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purple-cat-demon · 3 years

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Forever Starts Under the Ginkgo Tree: Part 3

Pairing: Gavin x Hazel

Word Count: 1,146

Genre: domestic fluff

Warnings: none

It's a short part this time, sorry about that~ 😅 Thank you and enjoy~

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Wednesday, 6:45am.

It was a rare occasion when Hazel managed to wake up before Gavin. She chalked it up to the bad dream he had earlier in the night. Still, it wasn’t like him to miss his morning run.

‘Enh, he needs the sleep more anyway,’ she mused, shrugging it off as she went into the bathroom to get ready for work. When she finished, she quietly opened the door, just in case Gavin was still asleep. Instead, she was greeted by her worse-for-wear boyfriend; the bags under his eyes a clear indication that he really didn’t sleep well after waking up from the bad dream. She cupped his tired face, the minimal stubble lightly scratched her palms.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

A small smile and a weak nod was the response she got. She gave him a kiss on the lips, “okay, I'll make us some breakfast while you get ready.”

“Sure…,” he managed to say as she left the room. He headed into the bathroom, a hand raked his hair back before landing on the sink’s edge.

‘Get a grip, it was just a dream,’ he mentally chided as he looked in the mirror. He knew Hazel loved him dearly and he loved her dearly as well. She was his everything; his whole world; so why did he have a dream like that? Before his insecurities could bubble up any further, he clapped his face and proceeded to get ready for work.

Gavin padded down the hallway to the smell of eggs and bacon cooking. As he turned toward the kitchen, he stopped to watch Hazel happily moving around the kitchen. She noticed him as she turned to place the plates of food on the dining table.

“Ah, thank you for getting the shopping done, my love~”

“Sure, I was able to do it before work yesterday,” he said as he sat down at the table, “this looks delicious.”

“I’m proud of this breakfast, I didn’t burn the bacon this time~”

A tender smile tugged at Gavin’s lips, but there was something about him that was still off; at least, that’s what Hazel thought as she sat down.

“That must’ve been a really bad dream,” she said, breaking the silence. Gavin nearly choked on the food in his mouth as he swallowed hard.

“W-What do you mean,” he stuttered as he looked at her with wide eyes.

She sat her utensils down and gave him a worried look.

“You get quiet when there’s something heavy on your mind. Nightmares are no different. Please talk to me, I’m here to support you as well.”

She reached for his left hand but just as he went to grab her hand, his phone rang. Gavin got his phone out from the hoodie’s pocket; his expression soured upon seeing the STF logo on the screen. Hazel sighed as he took the call; his brow furrowed even more as the call dragged on. After finally ending the call, Gavin took a few more bites of food then got up to leave.

“What happened?”

“There’s an emergency at STF, I need to leave now.”

“At least finish your food,” she called to him as he walked to the door. He let out a frustrated sigh as he turned back toward her. He was about to retort when he stopped after seeing the scared look on her face. He rushed back over to put his arms around her.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he nuzzled into hair, “I think they’re going to send me on a mission.”

Hazel lightly huffed, “I thought you said you’d be able to get out missions this week.”

She squeezed his arms, reluctant to let him go. He loosened his grip and kissed the top of her head.

“I’ll definitely be back sometime tomorrow, I promise.”

She pouted as he hurried out the door; after finishing her food, she then gathered up the dishes.

“And I was so proud of this breakfast,” she muttered as she packed up Gavin’s leftovers, “guess I’ll take these with me to work.”

Gavin rolled up to STF headquarters, moderately annoyed with the whole situation.

‘This had better be a high emergency,’ he grumbled internally.

Upon entering the building, he was immediately greeted by Eli.

“Sorry about this but Leto asked for you and I to take care of this matter personally,” he said, giving Gavin an apologetic look. Eli then handed a file for Gavin to look through. As he thumbed through it, his irritation grew.

“Literally anyone else could have handled this, why us?”

Eli sighed, taking the file back, “yeah, I know. I said the same thing to Leto but he wasn’t backing down.”

“Let’s get going then. The sooner we get this resolved, the better…”

At AEC, Hazel gloomily typed away at her computer. The sudden change in her mood had everyone concerned, with Minor being the braver one to breach the question on the whole office’s mind.

“Hey Boss, you okay?”

Hazel listlessly looked toward her subordinate, “yeah, I’m okay, Minor. I just want to get this report approved.”

Minor tilted his head to the side, “you want me to get you anything, a milk tea maybe?”

Hazel hesitated for a moment, then spoke up, “you know what, that would be nice, thank you Minor.”

Minor lit up and bounded out of the office to procure a milk tea, meanwhile, Anna approached her boss next.

“Did something happen between you and Gavin?”

Hazel let out a frustrated sigh. She knew it was his job to protect the masses but she wanted to be greedy with her man who was always busy.

“Not exactly, the STF called him in for a potential mission. I’m just worried it's going to mess up our plans for this weekend.”

Anna patted her boss’s shoulder, she knew Gavin had been on some long and gnarly missions recently.

“I’m sure he’ll be back before you know it~”

“Yeah, hopefully….”

Minor returned with Hazel’s milk tea a minute later, “here ya go Boss, is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, Minor, thank you, though. I do feel better,” she replied, resuming her report.

Hazel went home to an empty apartment. She was secretly hoping her boyfriend would be back already but no avail. She hated sleeping alone, the absence of her boyfriend always made the bed less comforting. She checked her phone for any notifications from Gavin; again, to no avail.

‘He must be stuck somewhere where he can’t use his phone,’ she mentally noted.

To avoid the disapproval of skipping a meal from her somehow omniscient boyfriend, Hazel fixed herself a small dinner before getting ready to go to bed. She hoped her dreams would be more pleasant than her day had been as she silently prayed to the stars for Gavin’s safe return.

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #mr love #mr love gavin #gavin #恋与制作人 #bai qi #mr love game #pcd writes

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kchuarts · 3 years

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Flowers in Blood

A/N: This is actually really fun to write!! I am definitely trying to go for a bit slower build with romantic feelings being realized in later chapters. Right now they are just like frenemies of sorts.

Summary: The mission begins.

Warnings: Attempt at assault

Taglist: @lucywrites02 *(Let me know if you’d like to be added!!)*

Chapter 2: Wolfsbane

BEEP, BEEP! BEEP, BEEP! BEEP, BEEP!

Jonathan’s hand slammed down on the alarm clock, turning the irritating machine off. He raised his head and groaned as it was 4:40 AM and it made him wonder why in the hell he set the alarm that early. Angela told he and Katie to be at her office at 6 AM sharp, but for god sake-

“Five more minutes…” He mumbled, ticking the alarm to ten minutes instead of five like he said so.

He was trying to sleep off his moderate hangover and dull headache from last night after he made the dumb decision of upsetting his partner for the investigation. It was not until 1 AM that Pine decided to call it quits on the partially helpful alcohol and head back. The way that Katie had rushed out after he let slip that he was her brother’s friend and watched him die made him feel horrible. So much for a first introduction of sorts and hoping to form at least a decent bond with the young woman. Pine pleaded to whatever God was listening that the mission they were assigned on would pass by quickly or become cold again. It was rather dark to think that, but he could not deal with the literal lingering guilt at his side. He would have to come up with a way to push those feelings aside and quick in order for their mission to go as smoothly as possible. Just as the thought settled and Jonathan’s eyes lulled shut, the incessant beeping returned with a vengeance and for some reason, it was louder than before. Once again, Pine’s large hand slammed down on the noisy clock and forced himself from the confines of his bed. A shiver ran down his body from the cool air of his room as he stretched his waking body from the stasis of sleep. His blue eyes glanced over to the window and naturally, it was raining. He sighed with slight irritation and rubbed the bridge of his nose as the headache made its presence more apparent. Hopefully a hot shower before he left would help ease the now growing throb of his head.

Unfortunately for Katie, she had not gotten a wink of sleep last night and spent her waking moments dissociating. Logically, she knew that it was not Pine's fault that Cameron had died but she couldn’t help but let herself morbidly blame him for it. Her opinion of Jonathan had quickly changed as did her attitude of working with him as he was a man. She guessed by her reaction, he would show his true colors like all men did once they upset a woman and be an absolute prick. The brunette shook her head and let out a deep sigh, smacking the heel of her palm against her forehead. “Stupid, stupid, stupid…” She muttered to herself, getting up and whining from the unpleasant tingle that shot to her feet. Maybe she could convince Angela to let her go on her own? If she told the truth and her discomfort of men? No. She had only met the woman yesterday but she seemed like the type of person to tell you to bite the bullet and stick to it. “Fuck me.” She groaned softly, walking toward the bathroom and shedding her clothes off to shower before she left. Why did she even accept this stupid job? Sure it meant being paid well and going to travel, but she would be risking her life along with another person. If she chickened out now, then all those years of study and training would go down the drain. Katie also assumed that Cameron would be super disappointed in her after she had worked so hard to get where she was now. “I just had to be partnered up with your old buddy, didn’t I?” She asked out loud while scrubbing the chill from her skin with warm water and soap. After spending around ten more minutes in the shower, Katie just about screamed from noticing what time it was. The clock read 5:30 AM and the ten minutes spent basking in the hot water was not ten minutes at all. “Shit!! Wonderful first impression off to a good start!!” she grabbed the clothes that were set out for this morning and quickly shoved them on the best she could as her body was not completely dried off. Katie wanted to hit her head against a brick wall as hard as she could at this point and hopefully knock herself unconscious. Thankfully, the only thing that seemed to be in her favor was that her suitcase was already packed and good to go. The brunette furiously brushed her teeth and jumped around while trying to pull a sock onto her foot. “MMMGH!!” She clenched her teeth together and almost fell to the floor as she hit her exposed knee on the doorwall. Foamy toothpaste dribbled from her mouth as she shut her eyes tightly and eventually did fall flat on her bottom and cried. She prayed no one heard her or that she woke anyone up, though it was unlikely she did not.

“Perfect, just fucking perfect!” She spit into the sink and rinsed her mouth, growling in frustration and shoving her toiletries into her suitcase. “Hi Angela! Sorry I’m like twenty minutes late on my first fucking day of the job!!” She began to monologue and search for her wallet and phone charger. “I didn’t get any sleep last night because of my fear of men and my existential dread over my dead brother-” she fished the last of her needed items out and grabbed the door handle, “because the asshole you paired me with is the guy who killed him-!” Katie’s jaw dropped as Pine had been standing right outside of her door, presumably waiting for her. Her hands flew over her mouth and her eyes quickly fell to the floor from shame. “To answer your question, I heard everything. Even the part about me being an arsehole and “murdering” your brother.” His tone was cool and face unreadable.

“You didn’t have to wait for me…” Katie’s voice became quiet.

“Well I did because I thought that maybe I should apologize about last night and perhaps talk things through. However, it seems apparent that your mind has been made up already.” Pine snapped, huffing and turning on his heel to walk out. Here he thought maybe talking to her would start them off fresh and possibly help to deal with the guilt he felt. Turns out that was not an option in the slightest and further wounded the ex soldier after hearing her rant.

Katie raised her hand to stop him from walking so fast, but he had already left her alone in her doorway. Sighing loudly, the brunette girl did a once over around her flat before locking the door and slamming it shut. She didn’t really give a shit if she woke anyone up now as this mission was already a complete failure.

Naturally, Pine was first to arrive at Angela's office and took the time on his walk to cool off and shove what happened to the back of his mind. All those thoughts were forced back up front when Katie stumbled in five minutes later, panting. Angela’s brows knit together at the girl, “You’re late.” She bluntly stated. The younger woman waved her hand and took another second to catch her breath, shooting a glare at Pine who subtly smirked at her being called out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I swear to God I am NEVER late-”

“Except for now?” Jonathan spoke sarcastically and raised his brows, amused by how little it took to anger the American woman.

Katie glared at Pine, stomping her way over and pulling the chair aggressively seated next to the man away. Rob slowly lifted his head from some papers to witness what all was happening, keeping to himself. “Aren’t you two just chummy.” Angela muttered under her breath and rolled her eyes, “Great to see you took my advice of trying to get to know each other.” She frowned, folding her hands on her desk. “Excuse me!! I wasn’t aware that I would have the displeasure of being paired up with my dead brother’s killer-”

“Killer!? There you go again with blaming his death on me. I did not kill him, Katelyn O’Connor. If you knew half of what went down that day, maybe you would have a different outlook!” Pine swivelled his body around to face Katie.

The younger woman’s nostrils flared, “Really?! Then why was he sent home in fucking pieces!? Did you know we had to have a closed casket funeral that oh by the way, I never saw you, Jonathan Pine, attend?! It is your fault he is six feet underground when you could have saved him!!”

Jonathan stood up abruptly and loomed over the shorter woman who also rose from her seat, half tempted to spit in his handsome face. “You-”

“ENOUGH!! Fuck!” Angela slammed her palms down on her desk and growled. “I swear you two are worse than my fucking toddler! I don’t know what the hell went on last night, but it ends now if we are going to solve this case and bring whoever is running this circus down! I’m sorry to say that there is not anyone else I have to take your places and that you are stuck together. So unless you want to get killed out on the field over personal matters, I suggest you put it aside and at least be civil with each other!” The Director looked at both of them and threw her hands up, “Sit down!!”

Not wanting anymore issues, the agents obliged to Angela’s words but still cast nasty glances at each other. “Now if we are done being school children, I would like to debrief on what is going to happen. Can you handle that? Or do I need to bring out a get along t-shirt?” Angela waited for a reply, but got a silent nod from them instead. Whatever, as long as she got the information out and them on their way. “There has been a new break in the investigation and evidence has been found in Moscow. See here, there are poppies on the arms of victims from over in our neck of the woods and another similar marking on victims across the pond.” Her brown eyes glanced up at Katie before she continued, “However, with the recent uprising with this strange group making a comeback, a new flower is being used. Wolfsbane.” She tapped a picture that was recently printed. Pine quickly snatched it from Angela before Katie had a chance to look at it, causing both women to roll their eyes. “What’s with the flowers anyhow?” He shook his head and gave the picture back to Angela who then handed it to Katie. The Director shrugged, “Haven’t a clue. I suppose that’s just a signature they like usin’ after they finish with a crime.”

“Could have to do with poison.” Katie cleared her throat and handed the picture back. “Poppies and Wolfsbane are poisonous flowers, I’m just making a guess here but I think they’re using those kinds of flowers as a warning that these people are not to be messed with.” She folded her arms over her chest. “No, I thought that maybe they wanted to decorate the crime scene with pretty flowers.” Jonathan shot at his partner who in turn clenched her fists. “What the fuck did I just say?” Angela whined, dragging her hands down her face and growling from irritation. “Sorry, Angela. I think some of us just don’t have the decency to hold back any snark when they aren’t in the spotlight.” Katie smirked and slyly winked at Pine. The nerve of this woman! Pine could definitely see the side of his late friend in her that he absolutely detested. “Right then. Anyways, while I like your theory Katie, the reasoning behind these symbols are still unknown.

If the two have any correlation, report it back immediately. In the meantime, your target is Abaddon Hasapis.” Angela pulled a picture of a very elegant, yet sinister looking woman out. Her hair was curled and frame confident, knowing. Her eyes held a nefarious gleam and bow shaped lips cast a dirty smirk. “I want details on this woman as her name seems to be popping up in each new case that we receive on the Wolfsbane crimes. She is a socialite and often attends auctions, charities and parties for the wealthy. Naturally, none of the money in the charity events actually goes to the intended group. There is a gala in Moscow that she will be attending within the next three days.” Angela took a deep breath in, pursing her lips and looking at her agents sternly, “You two will be attending this gala and are a lovely couple who recently got engaged.”

Both of their jaws dropped slightly and each made a move to complain about their roles before Angela stopped them. “No, no! I will not be having any other interjections! Katie O’Connor no longer exists for the time being nor does Jonathan Pine. Instead, you are Steven Ranger and Natasha Romans. Your hotel is the Metropol and let me just say it was not an easy feat to get reservations. It is around a 10 minute drive from the gala and a bit of a hike should you find yourselves without transportation. I’ve had your measurements marked down and your appropriate attire sent to your room.” She clapped her hands together and raised her brows, sighing quickly. “Any questions before you go? And not about why you’re a couple.” She shot that complaint down faster than the agents could say uncle. The room went silent and Angela looked from Katie to Jonathan one last time before standing up and ushering them out. “Off you go then! As soon as you reach the train, shoot me a text, the hotel give me a call and then keep track of whatever information you gather. You won’t be returning to England for some time so I expect your best behavior. I cannot believe I am having to even say that. Please try not to bite each other’s heads off.” Her arms fell to her sides and she gave a frown. Pine nodded, flashing a small smile “There won’t be any biting since her bark is the worst she can do.”

“PINE!!” Katie smacked the tall man’s arm hard and growled.

“Ah, ah. Steven is my name, dear Natasha.”

Katie had not the faintest idea how in the hell she would survive this mission with this asshole or if she didn’t end up killing him by the end of it.

The way to the train station was relatively quiet for the most part except for the occasional grunt or cough. “Watch where you’re going! Fuckin’ wanker.” A pedestrian bumped hard into Katie and made her turn around, glaring before catching Pine smirk out of the corner of her eye. “You think me getting called a wanker is funny?” She clenched her jaw. Jonathan made a disgusted face, “Please refrain from saying that word ever again. It does not sound right when you say it with your, your whatever American accent. In fact, please refrain from speaking at all. Your voice is annoying.” He felt the girl sock him in the ribs with her elbow and trudge through. As she stomped forward to the conductor, Pine noticed a group of men eyeing Katie up and down while she was too busy being a piss ant. “She yours?” One of them asked, pulling a cigarette from his lips and blew smoke. The men must have seen her little stunt that she pulled earlier. “Ah, no. She’s not. I actually do not even know her, she’s just some rude American. Bloody foreign women, feisty they are.” He lied, giving a curt nod to the men before following Katie in short. They sat 3 rows apart as neither of them wanted to even so much as look at one another. At least now Pine could get some peace and quiet for a bit with the two day trip to Russia ahead of them. Technically, they didn’t have to put on the gag-inducing task of acting like a couple right away, but unbeknownst to them, it would have been wise to do so in the first place.

Pine shot Angela a text before putting his phone away to read up on the case and a book he had brought. He was an avid reader and quite enjoyed Shakespearean works and complicated theories. The book he had brought would serve great entertainment as it was packed with an abundance of Plato’s work. A few more passengers hurried onto the train before it departed, rudely shoving their way through the corridors. “Watch it!” One of them bumped into Pine rather harshly and caused his book to fall. The dark blonde man looked up while grabbing his book at the stranger and scoffed. He thought about retorting back, but decided it wasn’t worth the time to get into a fight when he already knew of the nonsense he’d be bickering over with Katie. Shaking his head, Pine dusted his book off and sighed. Around fifteen minutes had passed since the train departed and a very strong smell of nicotine permeated the air. Normally, Jonathan didn’t mind it as he was an occasional smoker himself. However, it was overwhelmingly pungent and particularly disgusting. Unfortunately for him, the source of the smell was sitting nearby and likely not to change carts soon.

“Hey there poppet.” A rough looking man took a seat in front of Katie, flashing his yellowed teeth. Two more men followed in suit, one of them sitting next to her and causing her to scrunch her nose from the strong odor of nicotine. Her heart began to race as she could practically feel the intention of these men radiate off them. “Please don’t call me that. I don’t mean to be standoffish, but I’d like to be left alone.” Katie’s voice cracked and she turned to look out the window, trying to calm down as past trauma was racing into her bloodstream. “That chap from earlier was right about you American women.” A dirty hand snatched Katie’s chin as the owner forced her to look at him. He licked his cracked lips and eyed her up and down with his soulless gaze, “Pretty one she is though. You may be a bitch, but that makes ‘em all the more fun to toy with.” He chuckled and released her face, grabbing her arm. Katie’s eyes widened and she shook her head. She was completely frozen as she felt grubby fingers crawl over her knee and up her thigh. Small, quiet noises of panic were the only thing that could escape her throat as fear came over the young woman. The touches stopped once a tear slid down her cheek and her body flinched hard as one of the men wiped the tear away. “Aww little poppet’s scared. What’sa matter? You still a maiden waiting for the right one?” The third man’s breath was enough to make Katie want to throw up. She shook her head no, unable to speak still and felt the fingers resume their unwanted caresses. Her breath began to pick up and her eyes flicked down as the button on her jeans was undone. “Please don’t-” She muttered, her body trembling as she felt fingers start to slide down her pants. “Please.” She cried softly, shutting her eyes before feeling the touches aggressively ripped off of her.

“Oi! What’s all this about!? You’re that bloke from earlier!! I thought you said she wasn’t yours!! Bloody liar, she ain’t about to be yours no more-”

The sound of Pine’s fist hitting one of Katie’s assailants had everyone in the cart turn their attention to the sudden fight. Jonathan grabbed the other two and tossed them out, bringing his elbow down on the back of one's neck and twisting the arm of the other until he heard a pop. A scream of pain erupted from the man and the train suddenly jolted to a complete stop. Pine grabbed the front of the man who initiated Katie’s attempted assault and growled, “She belongs to no one but herself. Unlike people of your ilk, I actually respect women and don’t fucking touch them without their consent! You would be wise to use the single brain cell in that thick head of yours to exit now considering our interaction has caused an issue. Get. Out. NOW!!” He threw the man to the ground and saw the trio scamper off the train as the doors opened. Police shortly put them in handcuffs before another came in to interrogate Pine. “I’d have you in bars too for what you did, but these three have been a problem for months now with harassing women. Keep yourself outta trouble, will ya?” The officer nodded to Pine before waving to everyone as a signal the situation had been handled. Once the officer departed and the doors shut, Jonathan held his hand out to Katie. “I doubt you want to continue to sit here and reminisce over those pigs. I know we aren’t on good terms but-” Jonathan stopped as Katie took his hand and got up, her bag over her shoulder and her eyes full of tears. The spy nodded and exhaled, leading the way to where he was sitting and helping Katie settle in. It was only until she finally calmed down that the girl released Pine’s hand.

“Why?” She sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Why’d you come to my rescue? You hate me.”

“I hate it when women are taken advantage of.” His blue eyes sparkled for a moment as he thought of his late Sophie Alekan. “I don’t… I don’t hate you, Katie. Just because you blame me for that,” He paused, choosing his next words carefully, “Doesn’t mean that I hate you. Actually, if you would have let me explain earlier I still feel that it was my fault. I have nightmares about that day and there isn’t a moment that goes by where I wish I would have been in his stead.” He looked at her, an honest expression resting on his face.

Katie’s brows turned upward and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Pine-” She closed her eyes and then sighed, “Steven.” She corrected herself, “I’m sorry for what happened i-it’s just it was so sudden and you know how humans are; we have a horrible habit of putting the blame onto someone and-” She stopped as Jonathan waved his hand as a signal that he no longer wished to dwell on the topic. “We can talk about it some other time but right now, are you ok? They didn’t hurt you?” His tone became soft. Katie shook her head and she gave a small, wry smile. “Thankfully, no. I just couldn’t fight back.” She admitted weakly, not wanting to see the disappointment in Jonathan’s stunning baby blues. “Is that why you were so nervous around me yesterday evening? And your flinch when we shook hands?” his question caused her to force her gaze back up. Katie’s pink lips parted as she was flabbergasted at how easy she was to read and nodded slowly. She pulled her arms around herself and swallowed the urge to cry down, “I’ll admit when Angela told me I was working with you, I felt afraid. For two years, I lived in a nightmare and never thought I would escape. By the time I did, I changed.” She rubbed her lips together, unable to stop the tears. “His name is Travis Smithson and he is the man that made me frightened of men and unable to live normally for three years.” she sniffled, wiping her tears and rubbing her face in her sleeve.

Jonathan’s heart sank and he felt the urge to hug her, but did not do so. “I’m so very sorry to hear that, Natasha. You certainly didn’t deserve it…” He made a mental note of her ex's name, stashing it in the back of his head for future reference. “Are you still afraid of me?” He asked softly, leaning forward just a bit. Katie shook her head and gave a shaky exhale before giving him a tiny smile, “No. I’m just mad I’m stuck with an asshole.” She began to giggle and brighten up, causing Pine to smile as well. “Well if we’re going to be on those terms again, then you’re just as much of an arsehole as I am… No, not as much because you’re too short.” He laughed as Katie hit him with her sleeve that wasn’t covered in snot. “Leave my height out of this!!” She smiled at him and chuckled softly at his jeer. “Hey, thank you for rescuing me. Maybe you aren’t as much of an asshole as I thought you were, even if you did call me a bitch to those men.” She smirked and pulled her tablet out. “To be fair, you kind of were acting like one.” He received a playful kick for his comment and shoved her leg away from anymore kicks. “But, I would at least like to make up for earlier and it is the right thing to do. Your brother would have kicked my ass if I didn’t.” He saw a smile at the mention of Cameron. “Yeah he would have. No one messes with Cam’s little sister and gets away with it.”

The rest of the trip went smoothly with Katie and Jonathan coming to civil terms and an agreement to have a long in depth discussion regarding Cameron’s death. “Shit.” Jonathan smacked his forehead and groaned softly to himself. “What? What is it?” Katie became alarmed and sat up from her light snooze. “I don’t know a lick of Russian. Please tell me you know enough to get us by? I did read your file but didn’t see anything about languages except Japanese.” He opened one eye, looking at his younger companion. “Luckily for us, I do. Unfortunately, I can’t read jack shit of it and I only know a few basics. Other than that, we will have to play stupid.” She immediately ate her words as a smirk crept onto Pine’s face. “I thought you already were playing stupid- Hey!!” He laughed as she quickly changed seats to get him into a sort of choke hold and rub her fist on his curly head. Jonathan fought her off after a few more seconds before she returned to her seat. “It says you’re 24 but you certainly act like you’re a teenager.” He mused, raising a brow at her as the train came to its final stop. Katie stood up and smiled at him, shifting her bag “What’s the fun in life acting like a 38 year old who bullies young ladies?” She grinned, watching him pack his belongings before exiting the train with her. “You forgot- Short, young ladies.” his large hand grabbed Katie’s head gently and ruffled her hair before chuckling at her pout. “Watch it, you-” Her smile soon faded as police lights flashed brightly ahead with plenty of caution tape to spare. Jonathan looked behind himself and gently took Katie’s hand, walking fast and attempting to get a glance at the scene. Russian officers kept shouting at the ongoers, telling them to move along and that there was nothing to see. A tarp had been laid out over the apparent victim with their pale arm visible to Katie and Jonathan’s view.

A wolfsbane flower had been carved into the victims arm along with the same flower decorating the scene.

#the night manager #the night manager canon divergence #jonathan pine x ofc #flowers in blood #fanfic #my writing #writing #spies in love

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illyrianwingspans · 4 years

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Do Not Go Gentle: Appointments

Link to song: Appointments by Julien Baker

Synopsis: Feyre makes good on her promise to Rhys, and Rhys makes good on his promise to Feyre.

TW: Brief and non-graphic mention of self-harm, suicide and domestic abuse.

Ao3 link

Chapter 16: Appointments

“How are you feeling today, Feyre?”

How was I feeling? I didn’t know. My body felt like TV static with the volume on low. Crackling, bustling, full of nervous energy, but dim. Quiet. How was I supposed to explain that to him without sounding like a true basket case?

He sat in the chaise across from me. It was grey, muted, soft. Everything in his office was. There were great, wide panoramic windows, and outside rain pattered softly against the windows. Another week of rain in Prythian, as though it was just for me.

The couch beneath me was soft, comfortable. I sank into it when I’d sat down minutes ago and settled in after sitting in the waiting room. When I’d first walked into the clinic, there were others in the chairs. A older man, probably in his forties, was thumbing a magazine, but not looking at it. Just staring at the walls around him, flicking through the magazine, as though his fingers were soaking in the articles through his skin. A woman about my age listening to music on her phone, eyes closed, head leaned back on the wall. I’d only stared at my feet as the sound of the secretary typing away on her computer filled the empty space, paperwork clutched in my fingers. I’d filled them out on Saturday, and Rhys had them scanned and emailed that day, but they needed more paper copies handed from me in person.

“Miss Archeron?” The secretary had called out. I’d pushed up from my seat and shuffled over to the counter, presenting her with the five sheets I’d meticulously filled out. They were thorough, extremely thorough—so much so that when I’d filled them out at Rhys’s kitchen counter, I was clenching my teeth, ticking off the boxes that applied.

Suicidality:

Ideation: No-Active-Passive

Plan: No-Yes (describe): Jump

Attempts: No-Yes-More than one

Date of last attempt: March 27th

Lethality of attempt(s): Low-Moderate-High

Thankfully, Rhys had left me alone that night leaning over the kitchen island, pen tapping against the cold marble. Every question was like another stab in the gut.

Self-Harm Behaviour:

Current: No-Yes (describe): Cutting

Past: No-Yes (describe): Cutting, two years ago

When it got to family history and prior or current relationships, I nearly tore up the papers right then and there and walked out of the townhouse. Instead, I scribbled down my answers as concisely and quickly as possible to not feel the sting of the words.

In my hands, handing over the papers, it felt like I was yet again giving pieces of myself over, letting them cut open my brain and take a peak of the scrambled, decayed remains inside.

The secretary, a kind-smiled woman in her early thirties, pointed to a blue door where the gold plaque read Dr. Angèl Suriel, PhD. I’d knocked softly on the door, heard a muffled, “Come in!” From the other side. The first thing that hit me when I opened the door was the faint smell of fried chicken.

“Sorry,” he’d said, hunched over his desk further in the back of the room, next to the windows on the back wall. There’d been a rustling of a food takeout bag before he’d shoved the top drawer of his desk closed. “Just got some lunch quickly.”

He opened a window, and lit a candle on his desk next to his jar of identical pencils, then turned to face me. Angèl Suriel was an older man, tall and thin with darker skin. His accent was slightly lilted, definitely Spanish judging by his first name. He’d smiled warmly when he faced me and extended his hand, which he’d brushed on his tan trousers moments before.

“Angèl Suriel,” he'd presented himself, and I’d shaken his hand weakly. “But call me Suriel. No doctor formalities, please.” He’d smiled. “You must be Feyre.”

I nodded, eyes diverting from his. They were brilliant blue, so pale, contrasting against his tanner skin.

Staring at him now, sitting five feet across from me on his chaise with a file in his lap, I wondered how the hell Rhys had found this guy. Why he’d needed to find him, in the first place.

How was I feeling? How was I feeling?

My tongue felt swollen, limp and utterly useless in my mouth. I resorted to staring past him, over his shoulder, to the buildings in the background. They were like standing giants across the city, watching over, holding thousands of people with energy and moment and life, but so solemn and serious in appearance.

“Feyre?” He repeated.

I blinked. “How about you look in that file of yours and tell me how I’m feeling, Suriel.”

“Oh no, that’s not how this works,” he grinned. “It seems as though you’ve watched too much TV, miss Archeron. I’m not going to sit here and waste my time if you’re going to be resistant or unwilling to share. I’m only going to say this once, so listen to me.”

My heart pounded wildly in my chest as those crystal eyes met mine, and he leaned forward slightly in his seat.

“There are thousands of people in this city who suffer with the very same feelings and behaviours that you demonstrate. There are hundreds of people on my waiting list, right now, waiting for a call that they can finally see me and get the help they need. I work twelve hours a day seeing people, filling in charts, coordinating with hospitals and answering ER calls at three in the morning. I’m doing this as a favour for Rhys, and I’m doing this because I want to help you. It’s only going to work if you do your part as well. So if you’re here to waste my time, feel free to leave so I can get back to my fried chicken.”

I sat there shocked. My mouth was open in surprise, and all I could do was blurt, “I don’t know how I feel.”

Satisfied that I’d given him an answer, he resumed his position, one leg crossed across the other to balance the papers in his lap. “Okay,” he said, “how about we try this. On a scale of one to ten, one being your complete worst, and ten being your complete best, where do you think you fall?”

It took a few seconds to mull over before I murmured, “Three, I think.”

He nodded and wrote something done. “And Friday night? What number did you feel then?”

That one didn’t take as long. “Zero.”

“Zero,” he repeated. “You just broke my scale.”

Despite myself, I snorted.

“Tell me about what happened.”

Another question that settled within me like a stone sinking into water. I felt like I was holding it in the palm of my hands, turning it over slowly, examining its features, dips and curves, not knowing where to begin, or what to say.

“I don’t know what happened.” That was true. The details were so hazy. The timeline was broken in my head, only giving me fragments and pieces of those moments on the ledge.

In his lap, Suriel flipped over a paper and murmured, “It says here you were going to jump. Where were you?”

At the word jump, I flinched. Clutching my kneecaps, I blew out a shaky breath, still staring just past Suriel’s shoulder, never quite in his eyes. “At my friend Cassian’s apartment. Fifty storeys up.” I picked at the skin on my thumb, not knowing what to do with my hands.

“You went to a friend’s house? To carry out your plan?”

“I was staying at his place.”

“For how long?”

“I was there for about a week and a half.”

“Where did you live now?”

“With Rhys in his townhouse.”

“And before that?”

I wasn’t ready to go there yet. “My apartment.”

But Suriel watched me carefully, like he knew my answer was missing something.

I murmured, “With my ex-fiancee.”

His pen scribbled against the paper once more, and this time when he looked back up at me, he said, “You were at this friend’s apartment. Alone?”

I nodded. “He was still at work.”

“So,” he said, then paused for a bit, wondering how to phrase his next question, “do you remember the events, or maybe the emotions or thoughts that lead up to the execution of your plan?”

It was like I was back up on that building with Rhys’s voice echoing in my ears. I could practically feel the rain falling on my shoulders, my hair, my hands.

When Suriel pushed a Kleenex box on the small table between us, I realized it was because I was crying. The tear drops collected in my open palms like some sick offering to the gods of pain.

“Why am I doing this?” I whispered sinisterly, bitterness in my voice, my eyes as I narrowed them at Suriel, wanting to storm out of this fucking office and never look back. Rhys was wrong. He was a destructive, conniving asshole. “What the fuck is the point of this?

Suriel, not missing a beat, leaned forward as I did, and spoke in that low commanding voice of his he’d wielded only minutes ago. “The point of therapy, Feyre, is for you to get as close as possible to the ideal life you imagine and want for yourself. To solve the problems you face, to help hone your skills and speak your mind. Many of my clients walk into this office just like you, sometimes in worse shape, clinging to the notion that this is the enemy. That I am the enemy. But the only enemy right now in this room is you, you and your mind.”

I couldn’t stop myself from crying harder.

“I am not here to judge you. I am not here to pick apart your brains, but I need to know what the problem is, where to start, and where we can go from there. People walk into this office miserable and they leave with hope.”

Even the rain paused outside when I said, “I was kneeling in the entrance of the apartment. Crying.”

My mind went back to me curled into myself on the hardwood floor, when I’d shut out the world completely in my own little bubble of agony.

“I got up, ran to the bathroom, and tried to find pills, blades, anything, but the shelves were empty. Cassian must’ve been worried because he’d basically childproofed the entire damned place. But one thing he couldn’t take away from me was the fact he’d bought an apartment on the fiftieth floor.”

“And before that? Before you went out on the balcony? Why were you crying?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. Words I hadn’t spoken to anyone, not a soul. Words I didn’t think I could even speak.

“Feyre, take a deep breath.”

I clenched my eyes closed, only able to see his twisted snarl of fury when his hands had closed around my throat. When my chest had slammed into his desk. When his fists slammed into my ribs.

“Feyre, take a deep breath.”

Slowly, trembling, I forced a breath into my lungs. I choked it out in a sob.

“Good. Another one.”

This time it came a little easier. On the exhale of my third breath, I said, “My ex-fiancee was there.”

“Did you speak to him?”

I shook my head. “I heard him through the door. He’d found me with a tracker on my phone.”

“Why aren’t you together anymore?”

I thought of the elevator, of me crawling on my hands and knees, nails cracking as I tried to resist him dragging me across the carpet of the executive floor.

“Because he locked me up,” I wheezed. “He wasn’t my partner. He was my captor.”

There was an eerie silence, only broken by the soft sounds of my quiet sobs. Suriel’s eyes found mine, and when I looked up to him, I said, “He was my fiancee. And I loved him. I love him.”

“But,” Suriel sighed, “he abused you.”

“No,” I contradicted weakly, “not necessarily.”

“Was he ever physically violent with you? Did he ever intentionally hurt you, has he ever tried to manipulate you or repress you?”

Silence. And Suriel had his answer. As I reached for a tissue, Suriel wrote some more notes in his papers. He looked over his shoulder to the city scape, then turned those eyes to mine and wondered, “Have you talked to your friends since everything happened?”

I shook my head. “Only Rhys. He may have said something to them, but I’m not sure.”

“Okay. It says here you don’t have a job right now. Are you looking?”

I shrugged with one shoulder. “A little. Rhys offered me something short-term.”

Suriel said, “That’s good. I want you working on something right now, Feyre. Even if it’s from home, if it’s a skill or a hobby or a job, you need something right now to keep you distracted. I don’t know enough about your situation right now to give you more specific goals or coping mechanisms, but I’ve found the best thing for clients in your position is just to keep their mind focused on something else. Being alone with only your thoughts when they’re so toxic can lead you down the wrong roads.”

I nodded, hands pursed in my lap.

“Try to see what Rhys can do with that job, try to talk with some friends. Something light. You don’t need to tell them about what you’re going through if you’re not comfortable because you don’t owe anyone an explanation. So you know your homework?”

“Get a job. Talk to friends.”

He snorted. “Distract yourself, Feyre. With good things. Light things. Even if it’s a movie with Rhys or cooking dinner. And try to stay away from alcohol and substances.”

“Distraction.” I repeated.

“Distraction.” He confirmed, a light grin on his face. “And I’m afraid that’s all the time we have.”

I wiped my nose once more than stood, tissue clenched in my fingers. “Same time next week?” I wondered, heading towards the door.

Suriel smiled then said, “Sounds good to me. Thank you very much for today, Feyre. You’re doing extremely well so far.”

“Well, hopefully therapy is the one thing I won’t fuck up.”

He smiled, more of a smug, cheeky smile. I opened the door and it closed softly behind me, but not before hearing his drawer being pulled open, and the sound of that takeout bag rustling around.

***

The car door shut beside me, and Rhys turned on the ignition.

“How was it?”

The streets passed by, full of people, full of energy. “Were you there in the parking lot the whole time?”

He shrugged as he made a left turn, going the opposite way of home. I raised my eyebrows. “Don’t you have better things to do? A company to manage?”

“My office is very flexible. Phone calls can be made from anywhere, including the comforts of my car.”

“You shouldn’t be sacrificing your work to take care of me.”

Rhys eyed me sideways. “Taking care of you is not a sacrifice. It’s as essential as any hour of tediousness in that stupid building.”

I sighed, my arms crossing across my chest. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere. How was the session? Do you like him? If not, we’ll find somebody else.”

The rain beat furiously against the windshield. Rhys increased the speed of his wipers. I said, “It was fine.”

“Fine.” It was more of an assertion than a question.

“He’s strange, but he’s good.” I glanced at him sidelong, and that calm concentration lining his features. “How did you find him?”

He shrugged. “Suriel was a very difficult man to track down. There’re many psychologists in Prythian, but not many that take on…these kinds of cases.”

“Which kinds?”

He looked at me then, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Suicidal ones.”

My next question was already on my lips, but a call came through, and Rhys touched the bluetooth piece in his left ear. “Yes Morrigan?”

I could hear her shrill voice distantly yelling at him to never call her that again. Rhys and her spoke of something for a few minutes, names and things I didn’t understand and didn’t care enough to try and decode. Finally, he said, “I’ll be there in a minute.” The call ended, and he pulled the piece out of his ear, discarding it in the cupholder. I looked out the window, curious as to where we were.

“Where are we going?”

Rhys said, “To the office. I have to pick up some things.”

My heart beat nervously. I knew that the circle would be in the office, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to see them yet. But I remembered Suriel’s homework for me and sighed, knowing that it was best if I did have some sort of human contact. “Can I come?”

His smile was wicked and salacious. “But of course, darling. Let me take you into devil’s lair.”

***

Night Industries was nothing like Spring Corporations.

Everything, from the lobby to the reception to the workers was much more heavy duty. Sleek. Dripping with grace and elegance in a dark, ominous way. Black marble greeted us upon our entry where six security guards stood at their posts. Each nodded to Rhysand, who in turn greeted them all by name with a stern nod of his head. Rhys didn’t need to say anything as he marched past the reception desk towards the elevators. I went to reach for the button, but he shook his head.

“Executive floor is a little more protected than that.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“We do things a little different here than Spring.”

At that, he lead me down another corridor to the left and down to flights of stairs. I was about to ask where the hell he was taking me when we entered another lounge, with a different secretary, who instantly greeted us with a smile on her face. This place was darker, a dingy unsuspecting hallway that I wouldn’t have considered if ever I were to break in. I guess Rhys expected such a thing and acted accordingly.

“Good morning Nuala,” Rhys smiled as he laid his finger on the scanner presented to him by the dark haired woman. She didn’t say a word to him, only smiled at both of us as the tablet turned green and the door to what looked like a janitorial elevator opened. It reeked of metal and rust as we entered the wide space. On the interior, it was padded with black velvet and golden lining. Rhys pressed the button for the ninetieth floor, and we were going up.

“Your clients don’t find this a little sketchy when they visit?”

Rhys snorted. “My clients never cross the threshold of my real office.”

Another raise of my brows. He only said, “You can never be too careful, Feyre darling.”

We were silent the rest of the way up. Once the elevator doors opened once more, the space that greeted us was nothing like the beat-up receptionist’s office downstairs.

Everything was dark, but in a different way. Grey walls. Dark stained floors with a silver carpet leading down the main artery of the hallway. On each side were doors, definitely offices or file rooms hiding behind them. It was like an impenetrable fortress on all four sides. At the end of the corridor lay a set of black double doors with silver glinting handles. Lights shone at the bottom of each wall, lighting up the floors, leading your way to them. I only stood in shock at the stark differences between Spring and Night, the luxury and elegance that seemed oozing power and control here rather than tacky expensiveness in that ivory tower.

Before the doors, to the right hand side stood an empty office chair behind a black desk. An apple computer was there, unused, unoccupied, waiting for somebody to sit down.

“Who works there?”

“No one,” Rhys replied, as he laid his palm on his door handle. He waited a moment before a whir and a click sounded, then winked at me. “Only opens with my fingerprints on the door handle.”

How that worked, I had no clue. But once the doors opened, I swallowed hard at the scene that greeted me.

If… if his office was supposed to look grand, it was nothing compared to Rhys’s.

The walls were twenty feet high, and along the entire back wall stood windows reaching all the way from floor to ceiling. The light, despite the raining day, was bright and inviting, speckled with drops of precipitation outside. On the left side of the room lay an area for comfort, white leather couches and seats, enough for all the damn employees in this place to sit. A low grey marble table sat between the seats in the middle of the circle, currently obscured with documents and files piled up haphazardly. Stretched out across it though, was a map—a map of Prythian, marked up by different colour pens, from the Sidra to the major companies of Prythian and their headquarters. The colours made no distinct pattern I could decipher, but the entire thing seemed meticulously examined.

On the ceiling, light lined the space in strips, the source unseen beneath the black beams forming squares, each equally spaced apart. On the side wall were different alcoves, within one I could see acting as a coffee bar with a mini fridge beneath it. The others were wider, also lined with light—but barren.

“I’m waiting for the right art piece to put there.” He explained. “Nothing has quite tickled my fancy yet.”

I could paint for you, I thought, but then was disgusted by the notion of picking up a paint brush.

And to the left of the space was finally his desk. Nearly the length of the wall—the back of which was filled with books—and also dark to match his limited palette. Three screen monitors sat atop of it, and other files were strewn around, as though he’d left his office in a hurry. He strode over to it once he saw my shock had subsided it, and sat in his black leather chair with a sigh.

“Take a seat, Feyre. Won’t be too long.”

I sat in the grey leather chair across from him, still soaking in the room. It was gorgeous. Bigger than any apartment my sisters, father and I used to live in.

He fiddled around on his cellphone for a bit while I was still gazing across the city skyline, and minutes later came a knock at the door. Rhys checked the monitor, then pressed a button on his keyboard. The door opened, and in sauntered Mor.

“Seriously, I could’ve just emailed them to you. I don’t know why you’ve got to waste so much gas to drag your ass across the city for a stupid paper—” only she stopped when she saw me. Mor, beautiful as ever, wore a white pantsuit and her hair up in a high sleek ponytail to show off her gold hoop earrings. Her face broke into a smile, her red lipstick beaming, when she saw me.

“Feyre! He finally showed you around. What do you think? Don’t give him any credit for this place, I designed this thing from the ground up.”

“You’re a dirty liar, Morrigan. This place was built before you were born.”

“Don’t call me that again, Rhys, lest you want me to remove your favourite part. And you know full well that I was in charge of all the renovations, so look in the mirror next time you call someone a liar.”

Rhys rolled his eyes as Mor sauntered over and handed him the paper. His eyes scanned it for a few moments before they filled with dread. “Seriously?” He asked his cousin mournfully.

She only swallowed, eyes skirting over the words as well. “I’m sorry, Rhys.”

He sighed. “It’s fine. We’ll just add it to the rest of the chaos we have to deal with.”

As he opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a file, Mor came to sit beside me. Her hand found mine and gave it a squeeze, her brown eyes warm and bright. “You’re looking great, Feyre.”

I could tell by the kindness in her voice that she was being genuine, and not Ianthe’s sappy fake shrill that I was used to. “Thanks, Mor.” My voice was scratchy and low.

She turned her head to Rhys, who was collecting other papers from his desk to cram into the manila folder. “Have you talked to her about the position yet? It’d be nice to have someone new around the—”

One look from him and she stopped mid-conversation, then turned to me. “I picked up another set of clothes for you, by the way. After your comments from last time I went for more…comfort. Still very stylish, though, so not to worry.”

“Thanks. I didn’t really think the leather jacket look suited me.”

Mor laughed at my dryness, and Rhys only rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mor.” A clear dismissal, but I only thought of what Suriel had given me for homework as Mor lifted from her seat and made her way to the door.

“Wait,” I said, looking into Mor’s soft eyes, who were filled with hope and excitement just at the sound of my voice. My heart swelled with the non-verbal support she held for me. “Why don’t you all come over tonight? For dinner?”

“Feyre, darling, please, that’s just asking for it.”

“Wait, no! That’s perfect! I’ll make cookies, and we can bring popcorn and snacks and oh, oh!” Mor jumped up and down excitedly, looking to Rhys with her eyes full of hope. “We can have a game night!”

“Dear Gods, Mor,” Rhys folded his hand into a steeple and closed his eyes, his features lined with misery. “Are you trying to scare her away?”

“Oh, you’re just old and cranky. Make yourself another coffee, for fuck’s sake. Have a little fun, Rhys. We’ll be there at seven!”

The door closed, and I could only work on trying to bite back my smile as I turned to face Rhys.

“You seriously don’t know what you’ve started, Feyre.”

“I’m just doing what Suriel suggested, Rhys,” I said sweetly. “Social interaction is good for the disturbed mind.”

He only chuckled and shook his head, amused. Then he stood, hands in the dark trousers he’d donned today. No suit—he’d worked from home most of the morning before my appointment. The black long-sleeve sweater he wore stretched over his muscles that rippled beneath as he faced the skyline below us.

“I did come here for that paper, but I guess while I’m at it I should make good on my promise to you.”

Pushing up from my chair, I followed behind him quietly, arms crossed over my chest. “Promise?”

“Yes. I said I’d have a job for you. And I do.” He was quiet for a few moments, the stars in his eyes glowing as he gazed at the cars below. “I need all the people I can get right now.”

“Why?” I breathed. The response, whatever it was, made my heart beat furiously in my chest.

“Because war is coming, Feyre.”

#dngg #acotar #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #sjm #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #feyre #rhys #rhysand #feysand #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction

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forever-forgotten-angel · 5 years

Text

Little Acts of Anxiety

Warnings: Hints of Virgil having romantic feelings for Thomas towards the end, though it’s mostly platonic.

Summary: Just a moderately fluffy pre-Accepting Anxiety idea that wouldn’t leave me alone. Hello, I was babysitting for a friend last night and the kid fell asleep. My phone was dead so I grabbed some paper and started writing and ended up with this story, well the outline anyway. I added a bunch of stuff as I was typing it up this morning. Hope you enjoy!

The first time Thomas had ever noticed was by complete chance.

He had been up well into the early hours of the morning editing his most recent video. He only had a bit left to go, but his eyes were drooping. He stretched out his stiff muscles and lied down on the couch, promising he would just let his eyes rest for a few minutes. So of course, he promptly fell asleep.

He jolted awake as he rolled over in his sleep and almost fell. He sat up and was confused to find himself in his bed. He hadn’t remembered coming upstairs. He was about to shrug it off as him just being too tired to remember coming to bed and go back to sleep when he heard noise from the floor below him.

He stood up, grabbing his phone off his nightstand just in case he needed to make an emergency call. He crept warily out of his room and to the stairs, avoiding the places where he knew the floor creaked. Moving as quietly as he could, he descended the stairs and peered into his living room where the sound was coming from.

He found Anxiety sitting on the couch and with Thomas’ open laptop on his lap, using it for, well Thomas couldn’t really be sure. He stood, just watching the side in shock for a several minutes, wondering if he was still asleep. But no, Anxiety was there. Thomas felt himself shift from shock to anger. Who the heck gave Anxiety the right to mess with his computer without permission?

He was about to confront the hoodie clad man when he suddenly shut Thomas laptop, placed it gently down on the coffee table, and sunk out of the room. Thomas was tempted to call him back and demand an explanation, but decided to check the computer himself first.

He opened the still warm laptop up again and turned it back on. He couldn’t find anything wrong. Nothing seemed to be altered, no embarrassing photos were pulled up for him to cringe at, no harsh reminders of upcoming events, nothing he would associate with the anxious side. He went to shut the computer down once more, figuring the man must have just been web surfing, which wasn’t too bad though he still should have asked before using someone else’s computer, when he noticed something. The video he was absolutely sure he hadn’t quite finished editing when he dozed off was now completed.

But Anxiety wouldn’t have done that…right?

The next day, Thomas made sure to mention to Patton his surprise at the video being finished as he thought he still had a it to go when he fell asleep. Anxiety was well within earshot, but did not claim credit. He just stared out Thomas’ window and quietly sipped from a mug. From the look on his face, he didn’t seem to be enjoying what he was drinking though.

Thomas managed to get a hold of the mug when Anxiety set it down during an argument with Roman. He gave the dark colored beverage a taste, not particularly worried about catching germs from an aspect of his personality, and nearly gagged.

It was coffee, completely black, no sugar or milk or anything else. It tasted awful, and Thomas had no idea why the side was drinking it since it was pretty clear he didn’t like it either. He pondered over this as he grabbed a piece of gum off of his desk and began to chew it furiously to get the bitter taste out of his mouth.

There was no reason for Anxiety to be drinking that coffee. It was clear he didn’t like it. If he was doing it for aesthetic purposes he would have chosen a clear mug, or at least drawn attention to it. So why?

It may have been a bit of a stretch, but Thomas was sure it had to be because he was up late editing Thomas’ video for him and felt he needed the caffeine. He didn’t have any real evidence of this, and it seemed like a silly detail to cement his opinion on, but he felt certain anyway. He knew he didn’t finish it, he knew Anxiety was on his computer, and he knew it was done when Anxiety got off. There was no other explanation.

The question was, why? Thomas thought about confronting the side and asking but he was too anxious (hah) to do so, not knowing how the anxious trait would react. He clearly didn’t want it known, since he did it in secret and then never took any credit even when Thomas gave him a clear opening.

In the weeks while he debated confronting the side, he started to take notice of more and more little things he never had before.

Things he was pretty sure he’d forgotten were added to his grocery list. His sheets were changed. His desk was a bit more organized. His bathrooms looked cleaner. His bed was made when he was ninety nine percent sure he’d left it unmade. His videos were edited, if not finished because he left too much that it would be obvious a bit more was done than before he went to bed.

He just knew the anxious side was responsible and it made no sense to him. He always seemed so cold and harsh, why would he be doing these things for Thomas? Especially without bringing it up to anyone and at least taunting Thomas for his inability to take care of himself. What was the motive? He didn’t know for sure the side’s reasoning, but he felt obligated to thank him in some way. So he went out to the store and found a cool kinda gothic looking journal and pen (Anxiety had mentioned he wrote poetry one, although he may have just been being sarcastic to Logan but Thomas took the chance) as well as a gift card for music and a small black cat plushie with deep violet eyes that he spotted on the way to the check out line.

He felt a little odd actually summoning Anxiety instead of the trait just showing up when he least expected and least wanted the side to do so. Anxiety himself looked quite surprised as well, though he quickly changed his expression when he saw Thomas looking at him. “Sup?” He held out the bag holding the gifts he’d bought to Anxiety. The side looked defensive as he peered at the bag. “What’s that?” Thomas shrugged awkwardly. “Just something to say thank you.” This time the surprise on Anxiety’s face stayed, despite the side clearly fighting to keep his typical demeanor. “For?” “For helping edit my videos, and making my bed, and changing my sheets, and keeping my grocery list updated, and cleaning the house up some, and-” Thomas was cut off by the darkly dressed man standing in front of him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about Sanders.” Anxiety was good. He really was. Thomas would have believed that. If he couldn’t one hundred percent see the pink hue blooming on the side’s normally pale cheeks. But okay, he could play along if that’s what Anxiety wanted. “Well, take it anyway. I bought it for you; I’ve got no one else to give it to.” He tried to keep the knowing smile from showing on his face, but he was pretty sure he had a gleam in his eye that the other could see. Anxiety looked at the bag hesitant but almost longing, still not reaching for it. Thomas stepped forward and pressed the bag into Anxiety’s hands and then, on an insane and sudden impulse, he reaches forward and hugs the side.

He expects to be pushed back instantly but instead Anxiety freezes under his touch. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt someone so tense. He’s goes to pull back when arms wrap around him and squeeze him tight. He can feel Anxiety’s heart race against his chest and the side doesn’t seem to be breathing. As if any small movement will cause this moment to end and it will never come back.

He eventually starts to grow concerned at the trait’s lack of breath and pulls back, looking at him. He isn’t entirely sure, but it looks like the side’s eyes are a bit shiny. His hands clutch the bag tightly as if any second now Thomas will snatch it back. Anxiety opens and shuts his mouth a few times before seeming to decide it’s better to just sink out. Thomas smiles when he hears a “Thank You” echo through his room in the side’s wake, in a smooth, soft tone he had never heard from Anxiety before.

Virgil waited until he was fully in his room with the door securely locked before tearing into the bag like a four year old on Christmas morning.

He feels his own anxiety trying to tell him this is probably just a trick. That Thomas found out about all the little things he’d been doing to try and help him and thought it was pathetic so he got something to make fun of him. He tried to choke that fear down. Thomas wouldn’t do that. He was far too good of a person for something like that. The first thing he pulls out is a little stuffed black kitty. He stares at it for a moment before hugging it to his chest with a smile. He gently places it down beside the stuffed dog Patton had given him when he’d found out that Virgil was the only side without a stuffed animal. Even Logan had a teddy bear dressed in a lab coat named Albeart Einstein, though he’d deny it if you asked. An odd thought that it was good the dog now had a friend crossed his mind, making him feel a bit silly. He shook off the ridiculous thought as he went to put the bag away. He knew the fact that he wouldn’t even throw the bag away since it was from Thomas was kinda sad, but he didn’t care. However when he picked it up, he was shocked to feel there was more in there.

He hadn’t been helping Thomas out in hopes of receiving anything in return, on the contrary he’d assumed it would go unnoticed and he’d continue to be as hated as ever (not that he thought Thomas’ opinion of him was completely changed now, maybe softened a bit if he was lucky). He just wanted to do something, anything, to make up for all the times he had to cause Thomas pain.

He hadn’t expected anyone to ever know. Yet his host had gotten him not one, but multiple gifts in return? As if Virgil needed another reason to love Thomas. He had actually been starting to feel like he could….not get over but at least push aside his less than purely out of duty feelings for his host. Then Thomas did something like this and they just came rushing right back. The YouTuber really had no idea what he did to Virgil, and Virgil was determined to keep it that way for the rest of their life.

His already present smile grows more as he finds a gift card for some music tucked into a really neat looking notebook that has a pen hooked to it. He feels the urge to let out a few tears as he realizes Thomas actually put thought, thought of him, into picking these things out. It was something he would treasure forever.

He put the now fully empty bag away in his desk drawer and sat down on his bed beside his stuffed toys. He grabbed his phone and headphones off his nightstand and activated the gift card before downloading a few new songs he’d been wanting. Once he had his tunes blasting in his ears, he opened the notebook and poised the pen onto the paper.

The blackest sky can always see the sun Even in the darkness, after day is done

Though it’s only seen when the sun is not

The darkest sky is content to rot If it means the sun shines for eternity

As the dark sky fades into lost memory

Because nothing else matters to the sky of night

As long as the sun never loses its light

Taglist: @organizeddiscord, @lesliealiceinwonderland, @theagenderghost

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #slight thvi #platonic thvi #pre accepting anxiety #fic #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders

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screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms · 5 years

Text

Forensics to Romantics (Magnus Martinsson x Reader)

Chapter Three: The Present Reflects the Past

Part 3/?

Words: 2,660

AN: I am so so soooo sorry I haven't posted in so long. Life and school have been crazy, but it should be calming down at the end of the month. To help make up for it, I made this chapter a bit longer than usual. Hope you guys enjoy. Love you all!!!

Warnings: Death and Angst

(Y/N POV)

Magnus and I had arrived at Amy's address and saw that there was also another patrol car just pulling in. I got out of the car, followed by Martinsson over to where the other two officers had just gotten out of their car as well.

"Dickson," One of the other officers, Jake Lance said as we approached them. "We have the warrant and were told to wait for you."

"Great," I said with a nod. "Thank you, Lance. You and Hairston," The other officer and Lance's partner, Jenna Hairston. "Take the back door while Martinsson and I go to the front."

With that, the two of them made their way around the back of the moderately sized one-story house. Martinsson walked behind me as we made our way up the four steps that led to the front door, and I could see that he had his hand on his gun. I knocked on the door three times then waited for a response. After a few seconds a woman, Amy, opened the door.

"Hello?" Amy asked when she saw Martinsson and me outside.

"Hi, Miss Bloom," Martinsson said. "I am ID Martinsson and this is DI Dickson. We are here to ask you a few questions about your late ex-husband, Mr. Richards."

"Oh." She said and her mood changed. "I was sorry to hear about him, I really was, but we haven't spoken in two weeks."

"Ma'am," Martinsson started to say. "We need to come in and look around."

"What?" She asked looking almost scared. "Why? I mean, you can't, you need a warrant."

"We do," I said flatly unfolding the paper and holding it out for her to see. "Now please, we need to have a look around."

She lowered her head and stepped out of the way so Martinsson and I could enter her house. I was met with the strong smell of alcohol and the sight of things scattered all over the floor. Clearly, she was in disarray, and if I was right, killing two people only added to it. I was on high alert, and I knew that at this point she could do anything.

"I am going to ask you a few questions," Martinsson said as we walked in. "Please sit down. Dickson is going to look around while I ask some questions."

"Alright," Amy said moving a pile of magazines off the couch and sat down. "What....What do you need to know?"

I walked out of the room as Martinsson began questioning her so I could look around. I could see Hairston and Lance coming in the back door into the kitchen and they walked over to me.

"Dickson," Lance said quietly as to not disturb the questioning Martinsson doing in the other room. "Do you need us her any longer? We were just requested for back-up on an actual arrest with basis."

I knew that like most others at Scotland Yard, Lance didn't really think I could figure out a suspect quickly and that any idea I had was a waste of time. I was used to it by know so his comment about having an arrest with basis didn't really bother me, but I could see a sympathetic look in Hairston's eyes.

She had joined the Yard about a year ago and she was one of the few people who didn't hate me and we had even shared a few lunches together. She was sweet and had a good head on her shoulders, and was one of the best shots in the Yard.

"I understand," I said to Lance and without a second glance, walked out the door. "See you around, Hairston."

"You too Y/N," She said softly and began to walk to the door. "Good luck."

I gave her a nod and she walked out the door to follow Lance. Now it was just Martinsson and me in the house with Amy.

I looked around the kitchen for anything that could help prove what I already knew about her. I saw empty beer cans in the sink and on the counters. Besides the mess of beer cans and magazines, the cabinets of plates and silverware were completely organized. I looked down at the counter and saw that knife block was just as organized as the cabinets, except for one thing.

Two of the bigger knives, like the kind you would use for cutting turkey, were missing. I first I thought they could be in the dishwasher but when I looked inside of the dishwasher, there was nothing in it. Then I looked at how big the slot for the knife was and could tell it was almost, if not, the same size as the one used on Duke Richards and Julie Patterns, now all I needed to do was find the knives.

I walked down the hallway and saw the door to her bedroom was open. I stepped in and was greeted with a different order that I recognized a metallic smell. blood.

I looked around the room for any signs of blood, even though I knew even the drunken, disorganized woman wouldn't leave evidence out in the open. I put on a pair of gloves and a face mask so that if I did find anything, I wouldn't contaminate it. As I looked around more than a few things caught my eye.

There were a few pictures of her and Duke but his face had been crossed out and so had the area where his hard would be. That was probably an emotional motivation, emotion is a strong motivation.

I walked into the joint bathroom and the smell was even more prominent than before. I pulled back the curtain in the bathtub, but there was nothing there but soaps and hair products. Knowing that there was a large amount of blood somewhere in this room, I decided to look around more closely. I looked in the linen closet, but once again, nothing. Then I saw the small hinges on the side of the mirror and knew that it was a door. A lot of homes had these types of mirrors, they would have a medicine cabinet behind them.

I opened the cabinet and before I even had it all the way open, a heavy object fell into the sink with a thud. I looked down and saw the knife that was missing from the kitchen, and it had some faded red marks on its wooden handle. I did not touch it because the CSI would need to photograph it and take it to the lad for a blood test.

I looked inside the cabinet and saw balled up blood-stained clothes. I quickly closed the cabinet door and walked out into the bedroom. I took off one of my gloves and took my phone out of my pocket to call Lestrade.

One thing was still bugging me though. Where was the other knife?"

Hello?" I heard Lestrade's voice come over the phone after a few rings. "Dickson?"

"Yes," I said back hastily. "I need a CSI team over here as fast as you can. I found bloody clothes and a knife that looks about the same as the one we suspected in her bathroom."

"Damn," He breathed out as he spoke. "Alright, they should be there in about fifteen minutes. Until then, you have the right to arrest her and bring her in."

"Certainly sir," I stopped when I heard some noise for down the hall where Amy and Martinsson were. I knew something was wrong. "I have to go; I think something is going on with the suspect."

I hung up and quickly shoved the phone back in my pocket and made my way back into the hall. I took my gun out of my holster and held it in front of me sturdy. I rounded the corner and saw what I had been worried about.

Amy had a large knife to Martinsson's through and he had his hands up as to not make her do anything rash.

"Amy Bloom," I said forcefully while having the gun trained on her. "Put the knife down and we can talk about this."

"Talk about what!" She yelled out, her whole body shaking. "I know you are going to put me away! There is nothing else to say or do!"

"If you kill him it won't help you any," I say as calmly as I can. "Look, I know you feel stuck. I know you feel betrayed, but killing won't make it any better. You don't have to do this; trust me it will only make it worse for everyone."

I was getting worried about her shaking; it was getting so violent that she could have cut Martinsson easily with her shaking.

No, this can't happen. Not again.

"Put the knife down," I said again. "You know it's the right thing to do."

She looked at me then at Martinsson and then at the knife in her shaking hands. After a few seconds, she dropped the knife and Martinsson quickly grabbed his cuffs and placed them around Amy's writs.

I felt so stupid for not knowing that she would use the knife, I should have figured it out sooner.

*Time Skip*

(Magnus' POV)

We had Amy Bloom in one of the holding cell's and the lad results from the blood would be coming in any minute now. I can't believe within my first week on the job someone got the jump on me, and in front of Y/N no less. She must think I'm a really great cop now. She did seem to change moods once we had Amy in custody and was left alone to think.

Y/N talked to me briefly after the incident, asking me if I was alright and things like that. I told her who Amy had a knife hidden in the couch where we were sitting, and that's how she was able to get me where she had. But after that, she had been keeping her distance. Even back at the station, she would barely even look at me.

She probably doesn’t want to be seen with the screw up new detective who managed to be a hostage on his first case.

I saw two of the other officers from earlier, Lance and Hairston walking by. Hairston stopped and looked at me with a smile.

"She's really something isn't she?" Hairston asked, and I assumed she was talking about Y/N.

"Yeah," I said thinking about all the things I had seen her do. "I have never seen or met anyone like her."

"We haven't formally met yet," She began with a warm smile and sticking out her hand. "I am Janna Hairston, but please call me Jenna."

"Magnus Martinsson," I said, shaking her hand. "And call me Magnus."

"You know," She started looking around to make sure no one was coming. "I think she has taken a liking to you, well as close to a liking as you can get with Y/N."

"I don't think so," I said softly. "Not after today at lest."

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"I mean," I began taking a breath and ruing a hand through my blond curly hair. "I don't think she was very impressed by my being a hostage on my first case. That's why she has been avoiding me since we got back."

"Oh," She said softly as if she was remembering something. "That's not it at all, Magnus."

She pulled up a chair and sat next to me, looking into my eyes sadly.

"It's not that she doesn’t like you or doesn’t want to be seen with you," Jenna said to me with a sad tone. "It's just, well, something happened to her about two years ago, and I think what happened today reminded her of it."

"What happened?" I asked, now very curious to know.

"It was before I started working here, but I heard about it for the others here," Jenna began. "And Y/N did talk about it with me once. You know how Y/N doesn’t have partners, they all can't take working with her and request to work with someone else right?"

I nodded and gave her a sad look.

"Y/N is fully aware of that fact as well," Jenna said. "In fact, after what happened two years ago, she requested that she would not be assigned a partner."

"So," I began to ask. "What happened must have been pretty bad, right?"

"Yeah, it was," Jenna said. "Y/N and her last partner, officer Hailee Baxston, were going after a suspect. They had all the evidence they needed to convert them, thanks to Y/N, and so they sent Y/N and Hailee in first, they were the closet and no one else was there yet. Everything seemed to be going great, it looked like they would get in, arrest him, and get out without problems, but that didn't happen. Hailee and Y/N spit up so they would corner him, but when Y/N got back to Hailee, things went south."

"In what way?" I asked, even though I had an idea of where this was going.

"The man they were supposed to arrest had snuck up on Hailee," Jenna began after looking around once again to see if anyone was nearby. "He held a gun to her head and waited for Y/N to find them. He demanded that they let him go or he would kill Hailee where they stood. Y/N tried to talk him down, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to get out of this one. Y/N told him that if he didn't put the weapon down then she would have to shoot. Before Y/N could react, he shot Hailee right in front of her and then shot himself. She died a few seconds later right in Y/N's arms."

"That's awful," I said after taking in what Jenna told me. "I can't imagine what that would be like."

"The two of them were close," Jenna said after a few moments of silence. "She was the only one who stuck around with Y/N. It also didn't help that Hailee was spotted to be off that day, but Y/N asked her to help with the arrest because they had both spent so much time trying to nail the guy."

I let out a breath and looked over to where Y/N was talking with a few other officers about the arrest.

"I know Y/N won't say it out loud," Jenna said to me softly. "But she blames herself for what happened. She doesn’t like to show emotions or get close to people, but Y/N and Hailee had a bond, so losing her took a toll on Y/N."

"I can imagine," I said shaking my head. "That would shake up anyone."

"See, it's not you Magnus," Jenna said looking at me. "I think it just reminded her about that day. I know that you have only been working with her for two days, but I can already tell you are different. She likes you and I can tell you like her; most people won't want anything to do with her after the first few minutes. You two seem to work well together as well."

"You think?" I asked."Yeah," She said with a nod and stood up. "I really do."

I gave her a smile as she walked away and then I turned my gaze back to Y/N. I had a new understanding of Y/N and was amazed that she still stayed in this line of work after everything she had been through. I still couldn't see why no one wanted to work with her, I may have only known her for two days but she seemed like a great person. I think her intelligence just scared people off, but to me, I just found it more admirable.

Seems like there was so much more to know about Y/N Dickson then meets the eye, and I planned on sticking around long enough to find out.

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#magnus martinsson #magnus martinsson x reader #wallander #wallander fanfic #sherlock wallander #wallander sherlock #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fic #detective #sherlock wallander crossover #sherlock fic

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