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redrobin-detective · 3 years

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The 101 Deaths of Danny Phantom

AO3 link

One of the first things people learned about dealing with ghosts, other than not to try and date them, is to never asks about their death or obsessions. That doesn’t mean the citizens of Amity Park aren’t curious though, especially about their resident ghostly hero and the confusing and concerning comments he sometimes makes.

“Are you okay?” Phantom asked Maisie as she shook and tried to hold back tears after that car had almost slammed into her. She sometimes joked about getting hit crossing the street of her college campus to pay her obnoxious loans but it was another thing entirely to almost experience it herself. Maisie was nearly twenty, she shouldn’t be comforted by someone younger than her little step sister but here she was, shaking like a lead and leaning into Phantom’s comforting, chilly touch.

“Sorry,” she stuttered, “thank you, I’m sorry I’m just-”

“Hey, it’s okay to be upset that was very scary. The thought of dying is very scary.” Through her adrenaline and her tears, she took in the ghost’s unnatural glow, his faded, barely visible appearance and the fact that he was floating a foot off the ground. Maisie knows this ghost, this boy, knows more than she ever could about death.

“And getting run over by a car sure is a bad way to go,” the ghost kid chuckled awkwardly, taking his cold hand off her shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. “You should see how my dad drives or my mom or my sister if she’s running late enough,” Phantom paused in thought. “No one in my family should have a license now that I think about it. Anyway,” he dismissed with a wave.

“My sister and I were getting ready to head out to school and my dad was backing out of driveway too fast and didn’t see us and uh, luckily I got my sister out of the way in time haha,” Phantom trailed off awkwardly. Was it because of the uncomfortable conversation or because he noticed her dawning horror.

Her best friend ran the community college’s Phan club so Maisie was a member by default. Phantom’s death was sometimes talked about late at night, everything from wrongful murder to a freak accident. She never in her worst nightmares imagined being him being runover in front of his own house by parental ignorance. It was so normal, a quick mistake and a life lost.

“Oh my god,” he said with an adorable little green blush. “Why am I babbling about that? You almost got hit by a car, I’m probably retraumatizing you or something. I should probably go get the jerk who almost hit you,” he said before disappearing into thin air.

“Tia is not going to believe this,” she whispered to no one. All she knew is that for the rest of her damned life she was going to look both ways when crossing the street. She’d seen first hand what a single moment of reckless driving could cause.

XxX

Matthew, not Matt or Matty or Hughie, Matthew shivered from the cold. He was only in his boxers with little Pacman on them. It had been fine when he’d gone to bed considering it was mid-August but Phantom and this stupid flaming mecha ghost had tussled outside the summer camp he was working at. He could see some of the kids snickering at his state of undress though he was just extremely glad they were alive enough to disrespect him like this.

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” the ghost kid said with big, sad eyes that looked so human despite the fact that they were literally glowing. He looked around at all the snow and ice left over from his fight. “Jeez you guys must be freezing, I wish I could warm you all up but all I can do is make things colder.”

“S’okay,” Matthew said through his chattering teeth. “Teaching the kids how to start a fire was supposed to be next week but we can get a jump on it.” That got a smile out of the ghost and within a half hour, the other counselors were distributing blankets and hot beverages to the kids clustered around multiple fires. They didn’t seem particularly upset by the potentially fatal attack, Matthew will breakdown about that at a later time when he was alone. For now, he just smiled as the children chattered happily with the ghost while he cleaned up as much of the damage as possible.

“So you spend all day fighting ghosts?” Zoe asked with stars in her eyes.

“A lot of the nights too,” Phantom nodded, “I do other stuff but yeah it seems ghost fighting takes up most of my time.”

“Where’d you learn those cool powers?” Zuri asked, miming a punch.

“Comes with being a ghost,” Phantom shrugged, “my ice powers came in later though so I still struggle a bit with them but I’m getting better every day.”

“Why ice though?” Morris said with his cocked curiously to the side. “I see some ghosts use fire or shadows, why do you have ice?”

“Ah that’s a little personal,” Phantom chuckled but his posture was easy despite the invasive question. “Specialty powers like my ice require special circumstances and a certain uh connection to the ghost. Someone like me couldn’t use fire or electricity or plants, ice is in my soul, it’s who I am.”

Matthew paused in drinking his lukewarm coffee as a horrible thought came to mind. He’s been an outdoorsman all his life, practically from the time he could walk. He’d been a deep woods camping guide for a decade before switching to working at summer camps. But the years working in the relative comfort of a stable camp didn’t erase his knowledge of how unforgiving and deadly the woods in the winter could be. A grown man, much less a young teen, would freeze to death in 20 minutes if it was cold enough.

It made sense for ghosts to develop powers related to their deaths. Had Phantom been one of the dozens of unfortunate kids he read about every year who ran away in the middle of winter only to found later as a frozen corpse. He eyed the boy’s snow white hair and frigid aura he exuded with mournful trepidation. God, what a horrible way to die.

“I’d get chilly with ice powers,” Tabby said with a shudder, she held out her cup of cocoa. “You want some of my cocoa to warm you up?”

“No thanks,” Phantom said with a soft smile that was warm despite everything. “The cold hasn’t bothered me for a while.”

XxX

Ghost attacks may be the norm but, if there was one good thing that came out of whole mess it was the fact that violent human crimes went down drastically. So when the rare murder did happen, the shock and fear rippled through the whole town.

Stanford Newton had only been sheriff of Amity Park for eight months after the last guy had gone gray overnight and moved to Florida the next day. It was a daunting position but one he bore proudly. This wouldn’t be his first murder investigation having initially cut his teeth as a beat cop in Chicago but it would be the first in Amity. And it certainly was the first in which the dead served in an active capacity.

“Amanda Chastain, 27. Officially she was a waitress down at Spengler’s Diner but she’s been picked up for prostitution twice in the last year,” Stan said calmly, ignoring the cold, angry presence over his shoulder. “History of polysubstance abuse as well, not that either of those things mean she deserved this.” Used, beaten to death and then dumped in the trash like yesterday’s paper.

He wondered if she’d come back a ghost or if she’d finally get some peace this world hadn’t offered her. “We don’t have many leads right now, I’m afraid. Acting illegally as they are, there’s not a lot of resources these poor girls have to turn to.”

“I’ll find them,” The Phantom said with blazing conviction, his voice thick and sharp as ice. “I’ll find and bring them to justice and make sure no one else is hurt again.”

“I believe you,” Stan nodded, shutting his notebook as he finally turned to face the teenage superhero haunting his town. He can’t say he liked what he saw. The Phantom looked even less human than usual, his aura flaring and flickering like the foggy mist before a heavy snowstorm. His unnatural green eyes glowered, painting his too young face in a terrifying light.

The kid looked furious, clearly taking this death to heart. He’d read the Fenton’s memos about obsessions and such but this seemed beyond that. “But don’t hurt anyone to do it, or yourself while you’re at it.”

“I won’t, I’ll make sure they’ll face human justice and don’t worry,” Phantom gave a snarling smile. “No mortal can hurt me, not like this,” he growled causing the hairs on Stan’s arms and neck to stand on end. He flew off after that, presumably to track down Amanda’s killer.

“Not like this,” Stan mumbled to him, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his brow where a cold sweat had broken out. “Jesus Christ that poor kid.” Stan had seen plenty of murdered and mutilated bodies in his lifetime, some of them even kids. He just never got to talk to them after they’d had their life forcibly snatched away. It would explain the ghost’s near fanatical determination to save others, why he took a stranger’s murder so personally.

“I hope your own murderer is behind bars,” Stan said as he tucked his handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Or even six feet under, for killing a good kid like you.” Stan made his way back to his squad car so he could head back to the station and move forward with the official investigation. But he’d eat his hat if there wasn’t a stammering lowlife there by tomorrow ready to turn themselves in.

Maybe after all this was settled down, he’d delve into some of the cold cases stacked in the cellar. Maybe in there he’ll find a picture of a smiling, carefree teen who’d disappeared and returned with the power now to ensure no one else suffered as he had.

XxX

“Yes, I know about the Phantom,” Luis Oliveira will say to anyone who so much as brings up the ghost kid. Locals know better by now but the tourists eat it up every time. He twists his finely combed mustache and gestures to the floor where his audience is standing. “He died right there oh ten or eleven years ago.”

Luis has worked his way all across the the United States since he emigrated from Brazil in the 70s. He finally settled in Amity Park about twelve years ago. He’d never intended to stay in the small Midwest town but the fatal shooting of a young customer kept his little corner market open.

“He was a nice kid, always said hi to me and paid in exact change. Was big fan of the snacks I made, would stop by after school and take half my inventory. He had big brown eyes and a crooked nose,” Luis would smile at the memory before closing his eyes and frowning sadly. “One day, he came late. His teacher made him stay after to go over a failed test, I remember he complained. He was pulling out his money when robber burst in, demanding my money. I fumbled for the register key, dropped it. I bent down to grab it and I hear shots going off. Two over my head, another right into the boy’s throat.”

Luis will hear the sound of that sweet boy’s guttural choking sounds as he drowned in his own blood until the day he himself died. The robber left after the shot, Luis called the police and held the young man’s hand as he died. The would be thief were never found and Luis never did learn anything about the boy who’d died on his floor for getting hungry after school.

“As soon as I saw Phantom on the TV,” Luis would say, perking up after his moment of somber grief, “I knew it was that boy come back. Those kind eyes, I’d recognize them anywhere. He’s never come here but one day he will and I will be able to pass on my regret on not being able to save his life that day.”

XxX

“I think he killed himself,” Mikey whispered to Lester during lunch period, angling his voice low. “The jocks may love Phantom for his powers but I just know he was one of us, an unwanted nerd. I’ve seen him chatting up a ghost I’m pretty sure is Poindexter, Casper’s suicide kid. They’re probably bonding over their similar deaths and the circumstances that led to it.”

“That’s pretty dark,” Lester whispered back. “I also get unpopular vibes from him but I don’t think he’s the time do uh do that to himself; he’s too stubborn and protective. But I bet he was the victim of a prank gone wrong. Dash locked Fenton in the Janitor’s closet last Wednesday, he got out okay somehow but maybe something like that happened to Phantom. He always looks kind of annoyed at the A-listers, maybe they remind him of old bullies.”

“Nuh-uh,” Clara said, pushing up her glasses with her middle finger. “The ghost kid totally got electrocuted or something. He was fighting that weather ghost and he sent lightning bolts his way and Phantom flinched. He fought the Ghost King and yet a little electricity scares him? It might not’ve even been a lightning strike but something manmade like a machine backfiring or something.”

“Get real,” Mikey scoffed, sipping his milk with an eyeroll. “I’m sure we’d have heard about some poor kid getting zapped to death; this town isn’t that big.”

“We’d have heard about a suicide too,” Lester noted with a wry grin.

“Shut up Mr. I base my theories around Fenton who’s a known weirdo”.

XxX

“I’m telling you, the ghost kid died of some debilitating illness,” Abbie McMillian, retired school teacher and three year reigning champ at the Tristate area’s Daylily Competition. She sipped her tea and spoke with as much confidence as she had back in the day wrangling Amity’s impressionable youths. “The superhero thing is clear wish childhood fulfillment, a chance to live and be free like he never got to in life. You see how happy and carefree that young man looks while flying? Clearly he spent his formative years sick and weak.”

“No way,” Greta von Martin frowned as she aggressively stirred her own tea to show her displeasure. “I worked in a hospital for close to 30 years and I know what chronically sick kids look like and Phantom doesn’t fit the bill. I will agree he’s carefree when he’s not battling spooks but he acts like a stupid teen. I’m telling you, the boy got into his parent’s liquor cabinet or took a few too many of whatever pill was going around his school. Tragic but something that happens every day.”

“Greta, dearie,” Abbie said with a pinched frown. “We’ve been friends since grade school and I love you like a sister but you are wrong and until you admit it, I won’t share anymore of my recipes.”

“You’re just being stubborn because you can’t see what’s right in front of you even after working with kids half of your life, Abbie, love,” Greta sniffed. “And you can kiss my grandson’s help weeding you garden goodbye until you relent.”

XxX

Perhaps one of the most human traits is curiosity, especially about what comes after death. Now the good people of Amity Park know a great deal about the dead so the lives before is what attracts their attention and none so more than the ghost boy. Maybe it’s because he’s their hero or maybe it’s because he’s so young. Or perhaps it’s because Phantom is such a mess of contradictions that it’s very hard to guess how the unfortunate boy met his end. But everyone has their own theories, from the mundane to the fantastic, some with evidence backing them up and others pure poppycock.

But for all their curiosity, as much as it burns them to know, they’ll never ask. They don’t want to risk the powerful ghost’s wrath but, moreover, it seemed in poor taste. The boy risked his afterlife to keep them safe, they couldn’t ask what traumatic and miserable circumstances had led to this point.

And besides, it was so much more fun to look up at ghostly figure as he sped through the skies and wonder.

#danny phantom #my writing #i made a headcanon post and immeaditly said 'i have to write this'#and then I did #tw: suicide mention #there is a non described background death of an OC #opinions are like assholes #everyone has one #and *everyone* has an opinion on how phantom died #some are reasonably close and some are waaaay far off #but they wonder and gossip and argue when the kid cant hear #its human nature

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justoneofthoseghosts · 3 years

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Brettsey + Quiet me

A/N: Set somewhere in mid-season 9.

Matt walks through the common room hoping to get a glimpse of Sylvie. They’ve been in this weird place as of late after that night at Sylvie’s apartment when he told her he didn’t know if he’d leave with Gabby if she asked him to.

He knows now that he’d never do that. Chicago is his home. He and Gabby are over in every sense of the word. He doesn’t want to backslide, he can’t and he won't. All he wants to do is move forward. When this realization hit, all he wanted to do was tell Sylvie how he felt for her but he couldn’t because she was with someone else now.

So he keeps it to himself not sure if he’ll ever get the chance to tell her. They’ve managed to salvage the vestiges of their friendship. It’s not like how it used to be, Matt knows, but he hopes one day it will be. They make small talk on shift. He thanks her for giving him the lecture he needed to hear because it screws his head on straight in only the way Sylvie’s words can. He doesn't avoid Molly's as much, getting used to seeing her there with Grainger.

He glances at everyone in the common room waiting on Gallo, whose preparing dinner, but there’s no blonde head in sight. He notices Violet is there, chatting with Ritter and Mouch, so he’s sure 61 isn’t out on a call. Sylvie isn’t one to spend much time alone so it leaves him feeling slightly unsettled. He gets this pull in his gut telling him to seek her out, that there might be something wrong and he needs to know that she's okay.

He swiftly enters the bunk room but only Herrmann is there, napping. He doesn’t think she’d be doing inventory now. He saw the two paramedics checking the rig earlier this morning so he goes to the only other place he hasn’t really checked.

He peeks into the locker room and he finds her sitting on the bench, staring off into space. She looks so fragile then, he thinks. Maybe it’s best to leave her alone for now. He’s about to turn around when he hears a barely audible sniffle. It awakens this need to know what happened to Sylvie and figuring out how to make it better.

“Sylvie,” he says gently as he takes a seat next to her.

Sylvie is startled by his voice but she looks at him a second later, her eyes wet.

“What’s wrong?” Matt asks softly. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to put his arms around her to comfort her so he pins them at his sides, feeling a dull ache in his chest at how distant they’ve become.

Sylvie sighs but doesn’t speak. She turns her attention to a photo clutched in her hand. With a jolt, Matt realizes it’s the one of Julie and Sylvie, taken on the day Sylvie was born. The same one she showed him last year. It dawns on him it’s been approximately one year since Julie’s death.

Screw this, he thinks, as he wraps his arms around her. His heart skips a beat as she willingly draws into his embrace, sobbing quietly into his jacket.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year. I didn’t even remember until thirty minutes ago when Scott texted me a picture of Ameila and her cake,” Sylvie confesses.

Matt rubs soothing circles on her back, waiting for Sylvie to continue.

“Does that make a a horrible person?”

“What? Of course not, Sylvie. You can never be a horrible person.” Matt tells her earnestly, as he pulls back and looks her in the eye. He has to physically restrain himself from tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. That would be extremely inappropriate, he reminds himself, so he clenches his hand into a fist, his nails digging into his palm.

Sylvie sighs, “so much has happened since then and maybe I just lost track of time. My mind’s been pretty preoccupied lately. I haven’t even made plans to visit her grave,” Sylvie mentions, twisting her watch band. Matt hates that she even feels this way. He wishes he could take the pain away. He gets an idea. Maybe he can help lessen it instead.

It slips out before he can stop himself, “I’d be happy to drive you to Rockford to visit Julie. Might help to have someone along for the ride.”

Sylvie doesn’t speak and lets it hang in the air for a minute. She gauges Matt’s facial expression and the utter sincerity reflected in his blue eyes. She remembers how he drove her up to Rockford the first time to meet Julie, the same offer he’s making her now because he’s a good person willing to always help a friend in need.

Maybe she’s okay with being friends. They’ve been inching back towards it since about a month ago. He gave her the space she asked for but she knows she doesn’t need it anymore. She can’t stay away from him for too long it seems.

“Thanks Matt, that would be great,” Sylvie finally replies, smiling softly at him before noticing the tear stains she left on his jacket, “I’m sorry for leaving a mess on your jacket.”

“It’s no big deal, Sylvie. I can tell everyone I was a klutz and sprayed water all over it while washing my hands,” Matt remarks.

Sylvie lets out a small laugh, “thank you again.”

Matt lifts his chin in acknowledgement as he gets up from the bench and straightens out his jacket. He takes out a handkerchief from his slacks pocket and offers it to Sylvie, who gratefully accepts it.

“I think dinner is almost ready. I’ll see you in the common room?” He asks.

“Yeah, just give me a few more minutes and thank you, really,” Sylvie states, her voice laced with gratitude, wiping her eyes with the handkerchief.

“Always, Sylvie. You’ve been a really good friend to me and I want to reciprocate that,” Matt says as he pivots and makes his way out of the locker room.

When Sylvie is alone with her thoughts again, she starts to plan what flowers to order. Orchids were Julie’s favorite. She hopes she can find some of those before her trip. Maybe she could offer to buy Matt lunch for driving her. It was the least she could do for him being so kind to her.

It isn’t until later in the evening when Matt hands her a mug of tea, inquiring about the schedule and saying that he'll clear his for whichever day she picks, that she realizes it never dawned on her to ask Greg, the guy she’s been seeing, if he’d accompany her.

Leave me a prompt 🌊

#chicago fire #brettsey #fanfic prompt #I did my best with this one

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thebookreader12345 · 4 years

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Heart Palpitations

Pairing: Connor Rhodes x reader

Summary: Y/N passes out and ends up in the hospital where she meets the handsome Dr. Rhodes, the man who’s going to save her life from what she believes are panic attacks

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: mentions of panic attacks and heart conditions

Word Count: 1,373 Words

“Did you really have to bring me to the hospital? I’m fine,” I tell the paramedic.

“Per hospital policy, if we get to a victim who is unconscious, we have to bring them in. Besides, you passed out at work. That means something’s up,” the woman responded and pushed my gurney into one of the open trauma rooms, letting me move to the bed. “Now, change into this, and Dr. Rhodes should be with you soon,” she said and left the room, taking the gurney with her.

“Ugh,” I groan. “This is ridiculous.” I changed into the hospital gown quickly and sat down on the bed, pulling out my phone to check my email. As I was typing back a reply to a message my co-worker sent, a doctor entered the room. I thought Dr. Rhodes would have been a bald, old man, but he was quite the opposite. It took everything I had in me to stop my jaw from dropping.

“Hi, Ms. L/N. I’m Dr. Rhodes,” the man spoke.

“Please. Call me Y/N,” I correct.

“Okay. Y/N, I’m Connor,” Connor greeted.

“Nice to meet you, Connor. Can I just say that you’re the hottest doctor I’ve ever seen,” I point out.

Connor blushed a little bit, but ignored the comment and lifted up his tablet. “So you passed out at work today?”

“Yeah, but its no big deal. I get panic attacks, which sometimes cause me to pass out,” I explain.

“Panic attacks? Can you tell me more about that?” Connor asked.

“Uh, sure. I started getting them a few years ago, so I went to a doctor who confirmed it. I’ve been taking medication for them ever since, but every so often a panic attack will hit me,” I disclose. Connor nodded and tapped away at his tablet, giving me the opportunity to admire him. That’s when my eyes caught sight of his doctor’s coat, and I saw his specialty. “Cardiothoracic? You guys think there’s something wrong with my heart?” I question.

“Well, you could be having panic attacks, but passing out doesn’t fit the normal symptoms” Connor replied and slid his stethoscope off his neck. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” I answer.

Connor walked closer to me and slipped the stethoscope into my gown, pressing it to my chest. The metal from the stethoscope was cold, causing me to flinch a bit.

“Sorry,” Connor apologized. “I should’ve warned you about that.”

“Its cool,” I state as he listened to my heart. When I first got here, I was confident that everything was fine. However, Connor made a weird face, so I got worried. “Is something wrong?”

“Your heart is beating pretty slowly. Maybe you weren’t getting enough blood to your brain, so you passed out. I’m going to need to run some more tests,” Connor spoke.

..............................................

“Coronary artery disease? Isn’t that what older people get?” I question.

“Its mostly found in older people, but young adults do get it from time to time. Basically, your arteries get blocked easily by cholesterol, so less blood is getting to your brain, causing you to pass out every once in a while,” Connor explained.

“So what’s the plan? Do I need surgery?” I ask.

“That’s a last resort option. For now, we’re going to start you on some meds. I’m going to need you to come in every couple of weeks so I can check up on you and see if the meds need to be switched or adjusted,” Connor responded.

“Well, if I have to see a doctor over and over again, I’m glad its one with a face like yours,” I confess, causing Connor’s cheeks to turn red. This time, I even got a little smile.

“All right. I’m going to get you started on some anti-coagulants, and then you’ll be able to get back to work as a.................” Connor froze when he realized he didn’t know what my career was.

“Paralegal,” I state. “I work at a law firm down town.”

“Huh,” Connor said.

“What?” I ask.

“I just didn’t pick you as the law type,” Connor replied. “I would’ve thought firefighter or cop based on your personality.”

“You know, you’re not the first person to tell me that,” I inform him. “My dad’s a cop, and being an only child, he really wanted me to pursue his career.”

“So why didn’t you?” Connor questioned.

“I’d rather not run into a spray of bullets and risk dying,” I say.

Connor laughed and tapped away at his tablet. “I see your point. Nurse Sexton will be in here in a bit to give you the meds I just ordered, and on your way out, you and I will schedule your first check in. That sound good?”

“Sounds great. Thanks, Connor,” I exclaim.

Connor smiled. “No problem.”

3 Weeks Later

“There’s my favorite patient!” Connor exclaimed as he entered the room I was sitting in. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine, I guess. Work has been super busy lately, so I’m more stressed than usual. Other than that though, I’ve been good. How about you?” I ask.

“Oh, you know. Fixing people’s hearts. Saving lives. The usual,” Connor joked. “So, has the passing out stopped?”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t happen as often as before, but I still pass out every once in a while. Thankfully, it hasn’t been at work, just at home,” I answer.

“All right” Connor said and took his stethoscope from his pocket. “May I?”

“Go on ahead,” I reply and shrug off my jacket to give him easier access to my chest. Connor slid the stethoscope under my shirt, and this time, the cold metal didn’t bother me as much. Connor placed his hand on my shoulder as he listened to my heart, sending tingles throughout my body. I then realized how close Connor and I were to each other, and I could feel my face heating up.

“I think I’m going to keep you on the anticoagulants, but I’m going to add statin, which should hopefully keep you from passing out,” Connor explained.

“U-uh okay,” I stutter out, still flustered from the closer encounter I had with him seconds earlier.

“You good? Connor asked me.

“I’m fine. Do I need to schedule another appointment with you?” I question.

“I’m afraid until I get you on the right course of meds, you’ll have to keep coming back,” Connor responded.

“I don’t mind,” I say and pull my jacket back on. “Besides, you’re much more pleasant to talk to than the people I work with so...”

Connor laughed. “I believe it. Anyways, let me just prescribe you those meds and schedule another appointment, and then you can go on your way.”

3 More Weeks Later

“Its settled. I’m a genius. Tell me I’m a genius,” Connor said once he learned that I hadn’t passed out since he changed my meds, meaning they were working.

“Okay. You, Connor Rhodes, are the smartest doctor in the city of Chicago, and possibly the whole state of Illinois,” I state and laugh.

“Thank you,” Connor declared and bowed.

“Well, I guess this means goodbye. Since my heart is fixed, there’s no reason for me to keep coming back. Thanks again, Connor,” I tell him and make my way towards the door.

“Y/N wait,” Connor called out and stopped me just before I could leave, pressing his lips to mine. I was shocked at first, because I didn’t expect Connor to kiss me, but I soon got into it, wrapping my arms around Connor’s neck to bring him closer to me. When we pulled apart, I was almost out of breath.

“What was that for?” I ask.

“Ever since we met, I’ve felt this connection with you, and its only grown stronger over the past few weeks. Would you consider going on a date with me sometime?” Connor questioned.

I smiled. “I would love to go on a date with you. You’ve already got my number, so just text me anytime and we’ll work something out. As for now, I’ve got a huge case at work, so I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later, Connor,” I say and lean forward, kissing him one more time before leaving the room.

_________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @king-crockett

#connor rhodes #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes imagine #chicago med #one chicago #x reader #doctor

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ocegion · 4 years

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Nile is sitting on one of the couches of the safehouse, legs crossed and eyes on her screen as she lazily navigates youtube, when she hears an app notification loudly popping up a few feet away from her. She blinks a few times and looks up at its source.

Joe and Nicky are on the couch across from her, half-lying on each other as each of them reads their own book. Now, however, Nicky is grasping at his phone, slight grimace on his face as he looks at it, then exchanges a look with Joe, who sports a similar expression. A moment later they nod at each other and Nicky sweeps his thumb across the screen.

Their heads come together as they both focus on the screen, a certain degree of curious apprehension on their faces. They stay like that for a moment, then Nicky’s grimace comes back stronger than before as he tosses the phone to the edge of the couch. Joe just huffs, eyes narrowed, and his hand flies to Nicky’s head, gently massaging his scalp as he pulls the man closer.

It’s a few moments before either of them take notice of Nile’s fixed gaze. Joe looks curious, relaxing his hold on his partner a bit as he shifts his attention.

‘Is something the matter, Nile? You need anything?’

Nile now realizes she’s been staring, and quickly breaks her eyes away for a single moment before coming back, now with a teasing, somewhat incredulous grin on her lips.

‘I had gay friends back in Chicago, you know’ she comments easily. Nicky frowns in confusion.

‘You have gay friends now. We’re right here.’

‘I know, I know, not saying otherwise. Just… Some things are familiar.’ Neither of them seem to have a clue what she’s getting at, if their deepening frown is anything to go by. Nile’s amusement grows exponentially. ‘All I’m saying is, I know what a grindr notification sounds like.’

In the five months she’s been part of the team, Nile has barely ever seen Nicky show the slightest indication of nerves, let alone flustered. He’s about as impassible as a marble statue, but without the hard coldness to it. Now, however, she’s seeing with her own two eyes how a deep red quickly takes hold of his cheeks in the few seconds it takes for him to fully register what she’s said and hastily look down. He unconsciously leans towards Joe, who isn’t flustered, per se, but for once in his life seems to be not immediately sure what to say, mouth opening to start saying something, only to repeatedly decide to change his wording, then just shutting up with his lips turned a thin line.

‘What the hell is a green deer?’ Andy asks from the other corner of the room, where she’s taken off her headphones to pay attention to the current commotion. Nile brings her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh when Nicky groans in response.

‘Nothing important’ Joe grumbles lowly. Andy’s eyebrow rises, an equally amused and bemused expression hinting on her face, but she merely shrugs and puts her headphones back on. Nile can hear the music from here, and she’s going to have to remind her again that no healing means she can, in fact, go deaf if she keeps doing that.

For the time being, though…

‘Grindr’ she repeats, a delighted tone to her voice. The word seems to be some sort of spell that makes the both of them shrink on themselves, and she supposes it’s a bit mean, but they have behaved like the dignified, nearly-mystic millenium-old warriors they are every moment Nile has shared with them. She’s not going to let the chance to see them embarrassed pass so quickly.

‘There’s no shame in it, you know’ she says, and she means it. But she’ll admit that she says it knowing it’ll make Joe groan softly as he hides his face in his hands, and Nicky petulantly crosses his arms while pointedly looking away. ‘I mean it! I’m not going to judge you for your… Pastimes.’

‘This isn’t- This is not-’ Nicky stutters, brighter red if it’s even possible, and Nile is going to commit that look to memory because who knows when it’s going to come back. He wildly gestures with his hands, as if trying to grasp the words.

‘We were just curious, is all’ Joe supplies in a low but hasty mumble, nearly pouting and looking anywhere but at her. She raises her eyebrow.

‘I’d say you two are a bit late to be curious about this sort of thing. I doubt there’s anything you’ve got left to learn about this stuff. Well, being vanilla is okay in any case, even if it’s for a thousand years. Whatever suits you.’

Nicky stares at her, and opens his mouth to say something only to stop himself at the last second. He takes a long moment and in the end he settles, calmly, for ‘We were at a bar the other day, and we heard that grindr is the new space for gay men. We just wanted to check it out, keep up with the times.’

‘It wasn’t exactly what we expected it to be’ Joe adds, dryly. Nile takes a moment to stop herself from bursting into laughter. God, right now she really wishes social media wasn’t off limits to her, this is comedy gold.

She rises to her feet and throws herself at the other couch in between them. Joe and Nicky automatically make space for her, but they stretch their arms behind the couch to hold hands. They look at her curiously and she grins while she makes a beckoning gesture to Nicky.

‘Let me see.’

‘Nile!’ he nearly shrieks, half-scandalized. Nile is reminded that despite looking like he’s on the flower of life, at the point where maturity hasn’t started chipping away at youthful vigor, he is, after all, a grandpa older than most countries he steps into. Unfazed by this, she gives him a look that has him begrudgingly handling her his phone while muttering something under his breath.

Despite their complains, they seem very interested in whatever she’s going to do, both of their heads touching hers as they look at the device in her hands. She can’t help but be endeared by Nicky’s phone: His wallpaper is a pic of Joe sleeping (she’s willing to bet her next 30 lives that the opposite is true for Joe’s phone), and beside a sudoku app, the phone is pretty much barren. Except for grindr.

‘You should expect some, uh, unsavory things in there’ Joe mutters, somewhat apprehensive. Nile gives him an unimpressed look.

‘I’m not a child, Joe, no matter how many times you all say it. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen more than you had at my age.’

However, she goes directly to their profile. It’s the only thing that holds her curiosity, really, everything else has a very low chance of being anything she hasn’t already seen in her other friends’ phones. It is adorably innocent, considering what they knew about the app. It’s got a selfie of the two of them with Joe kissing Nicky’s cheek, another selfie of Joe at the beach with that backwards cap of his and sunglasses, and then a third one of Nicky reading, which she’s pretty sure Joe took while he wasn’t aware of it.

The profile is pretty much empty otherwise. The description is a mere ‘curious couple’, which, again, is adorably innocent considering she knows who they are. Not so much to anyone else, though.

Just in that moment, just as she’s about to check the chats just to drag the experience out, the phone rings with a new message. She opens it and-

‘Wow’ she says as she drops the phone, and you know what, she had forgotten the part about just how forward some guys could be. Had repressed it, most likely.

‘I know’ Nicky wails, picking up the phone and putting it at a safe distance. ‘We’ve gotten so many of those. And people who call Joe ‘daddy’. And asking about our, huh, positions. We keep expecting something a bit more… Mild. Just friendly. But no luck.’

‘We tried to start a few conversations, with some of the more, umm, dressed guys’ Joe continues, voice conveying a deep desolation within his soul. ‘It never goes over five minutes before they ask us if we want… Well. I’m not going to repeat it.’

Nile is, once more, struggling to keep the laughter inside herself. The sulky look they both give her has the laugh finally escaping her. ‘You are two attractive, young-looking men’ she says once she’s got her air back. ‘Of course guys are going to be interested. I think at this point you’ve figured out what guys are looking for in here.’

There is a brief silence. ‘Don’t get us wrong, it’s great there’s enough freedom for this… Thing, to exist’ Nicky says, more serene than he’d been a handful minutes ago. ‘It would have been unthinkable a handful decades ago in a country like this. It’s just not what we were expecting.’

‘It used to be about romance’ Joe adds, still somewhat sulky and looking at the phone like it had personally insulted him. ‘There used to be seduction, yearning, poetry. Courtship has changed a lot since we were young, we know, but this just skips it altogether. It’s lacking in taste, is all.’

Nile could repeat what the app was for and that there were other places they might find something more suitable to their tastes, but another, far more important thought crashes into her mind. She smirks.

‘You know I’m going to have to notify Copley about this, right?’

They both look like they’ve seen a ghost. ‘You absolutely don’t’ Nicky mutters, pale.

‘I absolutely do. No social media at all, remember?’

‘We were going to delete it anyway’ Joe begs. ‘We’ll do it right now in front of you.’

Nile pretends to think about it for about five seconds. ‘But what if someone has saved those pics of you?’

The look of dispair on their faces intensifies. ‘They can do that?’

Nile has no option but to roll onto the floor as she laughs harder than she has in a whole year.

#theyre old men yelling at a cloud. bless their hearts #Nile Freeman #Yusuf al Kaysani #Nicolo di Genova #Kaysanova #joenicky #my writing #shitpost #its basically a glorified shitpost tbh

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sylvies-chen · 4 years

Note

Brettsey please “so not to be rude or anything but i’ve been coming to this cemetery at this time on this day every week for fucking years and i’ve always been alone up until now seriously what the hell” au

Ok anon I REALLY have to apologize because this request has been sitting in my inbox for probably a month or two now but I didn’t get the inspo to finish this until last night. That being said, I got this into a short little oneshot so I hope you enjoy!!

Tags: alternate universe, grief, mourning, light emotional hurt/comfort, meet cute

Word count: 2922

183 days.

It’s been 183 days since Sylvie last visited Julie. 183 days thinking about how things should have been different. How Julie was supposed to survive, how her and Scott and Amelia were supposed to be a family. How Sylvie was supposed to reconnect with her, to finally know the woman who had given Sylvie her own life’s blood.

She was supposed to have more time.

Instead, Sylvie ends up feeling like more of a stranger to Julie than ever. The last time she visited was the funeral, and that hadn’t done much for her in terms of closure. If anything, it made her feel more out of place. Random strangers came up to her, asking how she knew Julie. Sylvie can still remember the confused looks on their face as she’d told them Julie was her birth mother who had given her up at sixteen years old, and the awkward condolences that came stuttering out of their mouths afterwards. She’d felt too guilty eventually, and left early. Who the hell was she anyway, to be tainting everyone’s view of her birth mother at her own funeral?

She hasn’t been to visit Julie’s grave ever since. All Sylvie had done was stay with parents for a few days to clear her head. A few days turned into a few weeks, and then a few months. Today marks month six of her stay there. Her parents had told her they’d be happy to have her. They hadn’t been receptive to the idea of Sylvie meeting Julie in the first place, so they were more than willing to help her through the loss. The only condition was that she had to go to therapy and work through her grief, which Sylvie happily agreed to. But last week, her therapist suggested she visit Julie’s grave to get ‘true closure’, whatever that means. It’s a strange idea to Sylvie but nothing else seems to be working. Her boss had assured her that Fowlerton was much too peaceful (the polite way of calling the town boring, and rightfully so) and it would do just fine without its favourite paramedic for a few days. So, reluctantly, she accepted.

That’s why Sylvie’s now halfway through an hour-long drive to Chicago, all the way back to the cemetery. She buys hydrangeas at a tiny flower shop she passes by when she first enters Chicago territory. They’re Julie’s favourite. They were Julie’s favourite

Her fingers anxiously tap at the wheel when she finally pulls into the cemetery. It’s a dreary Sunday, grey clouds hovering in the sky bringing the prominent threat of rain. The graveyard is empty when she gets there, from the looks of it, except for one single person. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see a man around her age sitting on a bench near a grave, his eyes observing her curiously from over his shoulder. He’s not someone she knows-- she doesn’t really know many people here in Chicago after all-- but she ignores his lingering eyes. Shades of grey stick out against the field of green and wilted flowers are scattered across other tombstones. It feels like a ghost town, for lack of a better term. It’s gloomy and it looks like no one’s visited this place in a while. Even for a cemetery, the sight is a depressing one.

Sylvie slams her car door shut and takes a deep breath. Relax, she thinks. Just a quick drop by to see her, place the flowers, and then leave. You can get through this.

She makes a beeline towards Julie’s grave, less than 100 feet away, and stops dead in her tracks when she gets there. Her feet feel heavy in her pink rain boots, sticking out like a sore thumb against her black coat as she observes the tombstone.

Julie Walters

Loving wife and daughter

1973 - 2019

Sylvie doesn’t know how to feel reading those words. A whole life, one she only scratched the surface of, reduced to a mere four words and eight numbers. It’s underwhelming, and she doesn’t know whether to feel relieved that Julie’s entire being wasn’t etched onto stone or insulted that they could summarize her in so few words.

Maybe it’s for the best. What else would they put on there anyway: that she was a flawed human who left behind a child who she wasn’t ready to have, only to die before she could see her second daughter years later when she was finally ready for one? When she was finally ready to reconcile with her first born? Yeah, it was definitely for the best.

She places the bouquet of hydrangeas on the wet grass next to the tombstone and stands back. Man, this is harder than she thought. The words are there, racing in her head, but they don’t come out. Every time she wants to say something, it gets caught in the back of her throat.

Sylvie’s trying to pick from a list of infinite questions and countless ways to begin when she feels a chill on the back of her neck. At that moment, a voice comes from behind her. “Hi, are y--”

“Ah!” Sylvie shrieks, the voice startling her. She nearly jumps out of her skin as she turns around in shock, only to see a guy standing in front of her. It’s the same guy, she realizes, that had been staring at her earlier. Now, up close, she guesses that he can’t be all that much older that she is. He has blonde hair that’s short at the back and longer at the front, his eyes a soft shade of blue-green. His jacket and boots are a little worn but other than that, he looks completely normal. Except for the fact that he’s the only other person in this whole cemetery, and he just came up to her from behind without making a sound.

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he assures her, his hands up in surrender.

“Oh, uh, it’s okay.” Sylvie lets out a big breath, shaking off the nerves from the jumpscare.

“Not to be rude or anything, but I just-- I’m usually the only one here,” he explains awkwardly.

“Are you a groundskeeper or something? I can leave if you guys need me to.”

“No no,” he laughs bashfully, scratching the back of his neck. “I work in construction, actually. But I’ve uh.. I’ve been coming here the same time, every Sunday for years now to visit my dad. Nobody’s ever here when I am, so I figured you must be new.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry for your loss,” she offers. So okay, he’s not such a creep after all. Actually, he’s kind of sweet. “He must have been a really great dad, for you to be visiting him every week after all these years.”

“He… had his moments,” the man explains delicately. “Honestly, he wasn’t the most affectionate guy. I guess I just don’t want to end up like him. Jaded and cruel.”

Sylvie nods understandingly, because she gets it. Her parents are loving and supportive, but she’s had some exes that have put her through the ringer. Her first real love, Harrison, had been manipulative and heartless. She’s always hoped that these awful guys wouldn’t change her for the worse either.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m saying all of this. I’ll get out of your hair,” he offers. “But uh, here. Take this.” The guy holds out a single rose, which Sylvie accepts.

Her eyebrows narrow in confusion at the gesture. “A rose?”

“Yeah, well, my dad has been getting a dozen roses a week from my family since I was 17, he won’t turn over in his grave if he gets 11 just this one time. I’m sure whoever you’re grieving could use it a lot more than he could.”

Sylvie’s confused expression softens into gratitude, a faint smile pulling at her lips. This guy, whoever he is, didn’t have to do this for her. It’s a sweet gesture. He really does seem nice. No catches, no mind games, just simple and kind. She hasn’t met a guy like that in a while, at least not one her age. “That’s actually really sweet, thank you.”

“Of course.”

“I’m Sylvie, by the way,” she introduces herself awkwardly. Everything about this situation is awkward, frankly. But she extends her free hand anyway. “Sylvie Brett.”

“Matt Casey. I wish it were under nicer circumstances, but it’s nice to meet you.” His smile is wide as he takes her hand and shakes it. It’s confusing, but it makes Sylvie smile all the same.

“You seem awfully cheerful for someone who’s in a graveyard,” she observes.

“Like I said: I’ve been doing this for a while. I’m sort of all talked out now,” Matt explains with a shrug.

“Right,” she nods. “I wish I could relate. Normally I’m the one who’s cheerful and talkative, but it’s hard with this sort of thing. Everything I want to say just doesn’t seem to come out. Sometimes, I think if I start talking…”

“You’ll never stop?” He guesses.

“Yeah.” How did he know?

“Well I can tell you from experience that you definitely do stop talking at one point. I got all talked out two years ago. I looked around one day and realized I was talking about types of screwdrivers to my dad’s grave with no one else around. Eventually, you’ll run out of topics like I did. And then new ones will come, and you’ll talk some more, and then you get quiet again and then you just… stop talking.”

“I hope so. I’m a big talker-- I mean seriously, I never shut up-- but I just… I don’t know where to start with this one,” she explains.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who are you visiting?”

“Julie Walters.” She points to the tombstone in front of them. “My birth mother.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Sylvie’s heard those six little words before. She had to stomach every single insincere, fake utterance of sympathy when she was at the funeral. But for some reason, the way Matt says it to her makes her think he really means it. She’s not used to people meaning it when they offer their condolences. It’s strange. Then again, this whole interaction is strange. “It’s okay,” she brushes it off.

“It’s not. At least, it doesn’t have to be,” he soothes. Something about his voice is so horrifyingly comforting. It’s calm and low, and it feels like warm tea and honey in her ears. It’s enough to make her want to burst into tears right then and there .

Sylvie takes a deep breath and then, before she can stop herself, breaks the silence to ramble. “I love my parents, you know? They raised me, they fed me, they’re responsible for the person I’ve become. But I’d always wondered where I came from, why my birth parents gave me up for adoption. And when Julie sought me out, I panicked at first. I wasn’t ready to give up that fantasy in my head of who she was, to have all my questions answered. But now I’m standing here, visiting her grave for the first time in the six months since her funeral by recommendation of my stupid grief counselor, and I… I just can’t stop thinking of all the questions I was too scared to ask. And man, it sucks.”

Matt stands there and nods understandingly, his gaze unwavering even as she turns her eyes towards Julie’s tombstone.

“I’m sorry,” she continues, wiping tears from her cheek. “We just met, and I’m rambling, and--”

“No no, it’s good for you,” he assures her. “ And I don’t mind it, I-- I like hearing you talk.”

“Oh.” Sylvie looks around, unsure of what to say. This Matt Casey guy, whoever he is, hasn’t run for the hills by now which is strange to say the least. But weirdly, it’s comforting.

“You’re right, you know,” he continues, switching the subject. “It sucks. Life… life sucks.”

“Yeah, it does,” she agrees, letting out a small laugh. This makes Matt laugh a little, which makes Sylvie laugh even more, until they’re both smiling and giggling in a cemetery like a bunch of blushing lunatics. It’s quite possibly the weirdest thing Sylvie’s ever experienced and yet somehow, it’s exactly what she needed. A bright light in the vast sea of darkness.

“You’re smiling again, that’s a good sign.”

“It is,” she agrees. “Am I crazy for that? I mean, I’m smiling and laughing in a graveyard with somebody I just met. Isn’t that weird?”

“A little,” he admits with a shy laugh. “But you’re not crazy. Sometimes people need a little bit of weirdness in their lives.”

“I guess stranger things have happened,” Sylvie shrugs playfully.

“Yeah.” He flashes her another smile before turning his attention towards Julie’s grave and facing it with her. Sylvie stares at the marked stone. She fondly remembers the few memories she had with Julie, and the countless ones they never got around to. It’s unfortunate, really, but it feels more manageable with someone there. Even if it’s someone she barely knows. Matt stands with her for a moment, the peace and quiet taking over. It’s nice. Sylvie’s never had silence be so comforting; it’s always made her anxious and uncomfortable up until now. Matt sure is a puzzling guy in that sense. She sneaks a peek at him through the corner of her eye, this guy who’s supporting her even though they just met. He’s lost someone too, he could be going back to his father’s tombstone. Instead, he’s staying there with her. Sylvie decides at that moment that Matt Casey is an unfailingly kind, weirdly solid guy. And, admittedly, a little attractive. Ok, a lot attractive.

“Hey, and don’t worry,” she adds after a few minutes of silence, “about being like your father. We aren’t our parents. And you seem… good. That’s all you can ask for I guess, is to be one of the good ones.”

“Thanks,” he nods, his eyes filled with a bit of confusion and a bit of something else Sylvie can’t quite place. Wonder, almost.

Sylvie turns back to Julie’s grave, tracing over the words with her eyes. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel so scary. Sylvie’s still sad, and wounds take time to scar over, but it doesn’t feel like she’s bleeding out anymore. She sighs, and she can sense the weight on her shoulders blowing away into the wind.

Unfortunately, when the sorrow blows away with the wind, it brings in the rain.

“Oh god,” Matt groans, wincing while looking up just on time to catch a raindrop in his eye. He squints and turns to Sylvie, who’s standing there laughing. “I didn’t see this in the weather forecast for today.”

“Me neither,” she giggles. “Today’s full of unexpected things, I guess.”

“It is.” He gives her a shy smile, nodding in agreement.

“Do you mind the rain?” She asks, looking up at the gloomy sky with a smile on her face.

“No,” he replies gently.

“Me neither.”

They stand there, hoods pulled away from their heads, letting the rain wash over them. There’s no shelter in sight anyway. They talk for a while about Chicago, about their lives, their friends, things that make them happy. But then they fall into a comfortable silence, smiling peacefully in the rain. Sylvie only moves a few times to brush raindrops off of the bouquet of flowers she’d placed at Julie’s grave. She looks at it, the name and the date etched in stone, and she doesn’t feel sick anymore. No questions unanswered, no bitterness. Her loss feels manageable.

She’s okay. More than okay.

“Hey, this might sound a little crazy, and I know we just met,” Matt starts after a while, “but would you want to… go get dinner or something?”

“What, like a date?” She snorts at her own joke, the idea being very nice in theory but impossible. It’s seriously impossible that this guy is actually asking her out, right?

“Er, yeah,” he nods. “Like a date.”

Oh. Okay, so he was asking her out. This is unfamiliar territory for Sylvie. She’s been asked out before, of course, by the small-town idiots in Fowlerton. But by an admittedly very good-looking stranger, under these circumstances no less? It’s a bit of a bizarre situation. That’s the crux of it, though. Matt Casey, whoever he is under all these sweet, charming layers, doesn’t feel like a stranger. Somehow, through one chance encounter, it feels like catching up with an old friend.

When she considers the facts, she’s had fun today. Every interaction they’ve had has come with such ease, and from a place of goodness and light. Yeah, maybe it’ll go absolutely nowhere. But one date in a public place won’t hurt her. She’s in Chicago for the rest of the weekend anyway. If anything, going out with someone like Matt Casey would do her a lot of good. And she hadn’t realized it until now but god, she really really wants to. So she does.

“I’d like that,” she finally replies while brushing rain off of her coat.

“Yeah?” He asks to make sure, his face lighting up with hope and slight excitement. Sylvie finds it adorable.

“Yeah,” she assures him.

He nods and grins excitedly as he leans in closer, and Sylvie feels the happiest she’s felt in a long time when he finally replies. “Me too.”

#this is a little rushed lol #also ik if i met anyone at a cemetary i would be weirded out but i tried to make this cute???#i just hope i was successful lol #brettsey #au prompt request #alternate universe #meet cute #light emotional hurt/comfort #mourning

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eponymous-rose · 5 years

Text

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E96 (February 25, 2020)

Tonight’s guests are Taliesin Jaffe and Liam O’Brien!

Announcements: The Chicago live show and C2E2 are imminent! The live show will be on Thursday night, but an hour earlier than usual, at 6 PM Pacific/8 PM Central! Liam will be at the live show, but unfortunately has to leave C2E2 early and won’t be able to make it on Sunday. On Friday, the first behind-the-scenes video for The Legend of Vox Machina animated series was posted on YouTube, introducing the writing team!

Episode 96: Family Shatters

Stats for this week’s episode! Of the 16 times Caleb has cast Teleportation Circle, the M9 have remembered to contact someone prior to their arrival 7 times. Of those 7 times, they were successful at contacting someone at the location only 3. Taliesin: “We’re playing this game like Skyrim, we’re just going through people’s houses breaking pottery.” Caduceus got the straw hat that he gave to Clarabelle in episode 31, about 188 in-game days ago. There were 17 cow-related puns. Dani: “Is that above or below average for a Critical Role episode?”

“Clay was kind of built relatively quickly. I didn’t give Matt a ton to play with. I gave him the order in which they left, I gave him Clay’s attitude and his impression of his family members, which was usually just one sentence, and some basic idea of what their power set might be if they had one. I always thought of him as, from a family perspective, of what would have happened to Percy if nothing went wrong.” He was happy to be the one to run the family business and just hang around at home and run the shrine. “I think the rest of the kids’ wanderlust probably put them at odds quite a bit.” He liked being able to play that conflict and show what Caduceus was like when he was annoyed. Cad took after his father, the girls generally wanted to leave, and Colton is “just sort of a doofus.”

Caleb was an only child, so seeing this many kids was a lot. “They clearly had their grudges and their different dynamics with each other, but that’s normal, for sure. Caleb’s very unfamiliar with it.” He also keeps looking at Nott and thinking about how everything he’s doing is about wanting to rebuild his family, whereas Nott is so conflicted about going back to hers. “He doesn’t understand it, but he doesn’t want to push it” or judge her for it. “I thought I had a really defined direction at the start of the campaign, but my seven best friends have knocked it silly.”

What’s keeping Cad with the Nein? “Caduceus is not ready to go home at all. He’s not done with his walkabout. He feels like he wants to see a bit more. He feels he has an intense debt to pay. He feels he has a mission to see everybody else through, at the very least. Or at least he’s telling himself that. So he’s saved his home, or at least he thinks he’s saved his home, and his family’s all right, so now it’s debts that must be paid. He’s not somebody who thinks you can just get off the bus.”

“Caleb was going to ask [the hag] about the ability to travel backward through time, not really believing that she could do that, but was still like, show me what you’ve got.” Even if she’d said it, he would have thought she was a liar. “Probably would’ve offered to kill the M9″ in exchange, then would’ve turned around to hit her with a surprise Disintegrate. Liam notes repeatedly that nothing could possibly have been as cool as what Laura wound up doing.

On the Nein not worrying about places Cad considered sacred ground, Caduceus “is fine with conflict. He doesn’t even really have to have conflict, he could assert himself if he were so inclined. It’s that he’s aware that there are limits to what these people can do. It’s very much the philosophy of ‘children and drunks can do no wrong’.” He’s picking his battles.

Was there a defining moment where Caleb started seeing the Nein as family? No single moment. “It’s like love by a thousand cuts.” Liam notes that he’s still not sure how Caleb would react if he suddenly had the means to carry out his plans. “He’s got the recovering-addict mentality.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Pumat! (CriticalHitical, photo by Minniemooncos on Twitter)

Taliesin notes that Caduceus is definitely feeling more connected to the group. “If anything, Caduceus is really embracing his role as the spiritual guide to the group. He feels like he really has a lot to offer from that perspective of being the roving therapist. Or at least, he thinks he’s a roving therapist.” Liam notes that Cad is the most mysterious of the group to Caleb. “He’s the most religious character I’ve ever played, too. He’s fun! He really came together very nicely.”

On Caleb being more lighthearted on occasion: “He’s been out of practice being a human being for a long time.” The Nein’s brand of ridiculousness is rubbing off on him.

Why hasn’t Cad been pranking the Nein? “They don’t treat him poorly in that way yet. Siblings, man. I have quite a few siblings, and there is an energy. It’s the same way like when you’re around your parents, you revert to a 15-year-old.” Same with siblings. “There’s just something-- just the urge to torture them is so overpowering.” The moment he got the whistle, he knew exactly what he was going to do with it. Liam was reminded of Taliesin’s real-life siblings while watching these interactions in the game.

On Caleb’s laying on compliments for the Traveler: “The thing about time travel is it’s so implausible. It’s so implausible that I could see us finishing this campaign and Caleb will still have it in the back of his head for the rest of his life. But maybe Artagan could help with that. He certainly sees the potential in Artagan, and it was a balance between wanting to support everything Jester has devoted her life to, so it just felt like everyone was ready to write it off. Life is often like this, life isn’t what you thought it would be, it is what it is. Let’s not damn this yet, let’s feel it out. And if I can use this situation to possibly eradicate ultimate evil, that’s a win.”

Cad found it tough to have family and friends in the same room and play both roles. “I don’t know how much it came across that he was trying to keep them, not necessarily separated, but ‘family, guys, guys, family, ANYWAY.’” He did want to get his family on their way as quickly as possible. Cad is the equivalent of his early 20s, so something like 85-120 years old for a firbolg.

Liam is asked about the conversation between Caleb and Yasha on watch several episodes ago. "You know what one of the best parts of that scene that played out was, is about 20 minutes or 30 minutes before that happened, I texted Ashley at the table and said, ‘Want to take watch? I have nothing planned, it could be fun.’” He wasn’t expecting it to go that far. “I think he had such an extreme reaction because he felt that he had done a good job of hiding things, and he was suddenly worried that he was transparent, that everyone had been able to read him this whole time when he’d thought that he was-- well, he’s a little in love with Jester Lavorre, and has been for a while, uselessly in love with her. The waltz was probably a little pebble. And in that moment-- this doesn’t play out verbally too much in the show, but he just was worried that this thing that he’s never going to admit to because it’s useless, she’s finding herself, and has her whole life ahead of her, and has other people around her who care about her and are a whole lot better for her than he is. And he’s aware of the way those two [Fjord and Beau] feel as well. It’s just there in the background fucking up his shit. It’s really just a problem. Big fucking problem.”

Fan art of the week: a gorgeous Clay family portrait! (by Teaweltzer on Twitter)

On Clay being absent for the renewal of his home: “I don’t think his arc’s ending off-screen. I think his arc ends when he comes home to see what’s become of it.”

Is Caleb worried about Beau since the confrontation with her father? “Of course he is. She’s ignoring all the advice that she gave him. He doesn’t like to see her that hard on herself when she’s so competent and probably the backbone of the group. It’s the most judgey Caleb’s been of anybody, really, but he’s very aware of the pain of family and personal stuff. She knows her, and even though he broke his shit in half, he could still see the dynamic in the room when we visited his family, so he feels for her. We need you and we love you and we will miss you, you don’t fucking get to go.”

Each of the temples has a secondary god; what was the Blooming Grove’s other god? “The Blooming Grove is for the Archeart because it is a gift of beauty. It’s the Allhammer, the Changebringer, and the Archeart. It’s kind of a powerplay from the Wildmother, in my opinion. They’re all three based off of very specific types of funereal practices that are common throughout the world.”

Caleb saw giving over the transformation spell to Essek as a returning of one of his many favors. “Caleb likes Essek a lot. They’re like two highly gifted kids at school together. And, you know, he’s quirkily charming and handsome. There’s just no reason not to, in his mind. Outside of the M9, he’s probably the only person that Caleb would see as a friend that he’s made. Everyone else is just sort of scenery around the M9.”

What’s next for Cad? “It’s a little bit of finding himself, or at least finishing himself would be the way to put it.” (cue snickering from off-camera) “He’s also vaguely aware of some of the things that are going to possibly emotionally damage the party on the horizon, and he wants to be ready to deal with, in vague order, whatever’s going to happen to Jester, and then whatever’s going to happen to Fjord, and then whatever’s going to happen to Nott, and Yasha, and Caleb. He doesn’t know how to deal with what Beau’s going through. It’s the one thing he has no experience of, because he has no experience with that family dynamic. When he met people with that family dynamic, it was always at the end of it.”

Some fans sent in death whistles. Brian encourages Taliesin to play one on the plane.

The hat for Calliope was a last-minute thought. The flute could also have gone for Colton, depending on “who I could sneak up on”.

Caleb took a symbol of the Archeart from the Labenda Swamp. “I think it was familiar to me. I think I might have either correctly or mistakenly thought it reminded me of the woman who helped Caleb in the Sanatorium.”

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

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joe-mazzello-archive · 4 years

Text

Party For One

A Joe Mazzello x Fem!Reader fic

Word Count: 4k whoopsssss

Rating: PG

Warnings: language, drinking, angst for most of it, a teeny bit of fluff, joe is a bit of a shithead in this one, sorry gang

A/N: hey remember how i was supposed to be finishing doj part two and instead i word-vomited this out in five hours at work yesterday? anyway, enjoy.

He hasn’t changed a bit, you thought to yourself as you watched him, always the life of the party. He’d been that way all through high school, the summers you saw him between college semesters, and the few gatherings he made appearances at when he was home.

You’d always been right beside him, too. Pre-gaming at a friend’s house, sharing the mic during karaoke, rubbing his back as he leaned over the toilet, crashing on the couch or the floor or wherever you could find a spot.

But now you were out of your element. You were in his other world. You were surrounded by vaguely familiar faces, people you knew you had probably seen in a movie or a tv show but you couldn’t place them exactly. And there he was, across the room, animatedly entertaining a small group with some anecdote you’d probably heard before.

He was obviously the reason you were here. He had been begging you to come out to Los Angeles for years now. Years of you’d love it out here and you and I both know you’d take the industry by storm and I miss my best friend. Eventually, you relented. Mostly because your career in real estate was exhaustingly boring and you needed a change. Acting had always been something you enjoyed but never looked at as a career opportunity until now. But you had to admit, you missed your best friend too.

So you packed up everything, drove across the country, and settled into Joe’s guest room. You had a meeting with his agency on Monday, but of course Joe, always the party host, insisted that you needed a welcoming get-together upon arrival. Which soon turned into a complete blow-out. In fact, you were pretty sure most of the guests in attendance had no idea what the party’s true origin was, let alone who you were.

So there you were, only hours since you had arrived, left to nurse your beer off in the corner. Part of you wished you and Joe could have had a quiet night in, catching up over pizza and a comedy special. But you knew deep down that would have just exacerbated the situation you found yourself in. Seeing Joe in the flesh once again had caused some...feelings to resurface. Feelings that you had worked for years to suppress, and had been hoping were completely gone by now.

All it took was him opening his front door and pulling you into a tight hug for all of those feelings to come rushing right back.

Sometimes he did things that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, he felt the same. Like the way he used to wrap a protective arm around you when the two of you walked around Brooklyn at night. The way he could sense when you were having a rough day just through your texts, and suddenly a delivery of Insomnia Cookies would arrive at your apartment door. The way every hello and goodbye hug lasted just a moment longer than was probably appropriate for two friends. But surely you were reading into it.

You knew he wasn’t avoiding you. No, he couldn’t be. Sure, the second other guests had started to arrive, his focus turned from you to them. And sure, he hadn’t given you the time of day since. But he wasn’t avoiding you, no. He was just a popular guy, he always had been.

You pushed those negative thoughts away, not willing to accept them.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” sounded a familiar voice with a British lilt from behind you. You turned and were met with ocean blue eyes and chiseled cheekbones.

“Gwil,” you breathed out, almost in relief. Someone you knew. The tall man pulled you in for a bear hug, immediately putting you at ease. You appreciated the gesture considering you and Gwil weren’t even that close, only meeting each other a few times back when the Borhap cast was briefly in New York.

“Did that asshole leave you here alone at a party full of people you don’t know?” Gwil asked as he pulled away. You chuckled at his frankness.

“You know how he is,” you mused, offering a smile and a shrug. “He’s gotta entertain everybody.”

“Now did I hear correctly that you’re moving out here?” Gwil questioned, casually leaning a shoulder against the wall next to you.

“Got here a few hours ago, in fact,” you explained. “I’ll be occupying the guest room until I find my own place.” Gwil chuckled at that.

“You quite literally just got here and he’s off chatting with people he sees all the time?” Gwil clarified, earning an exasperated nod from you. “I’m going to go ahead and apologize on behalf of that bastard.” You let out a genuine laugh at that, clearly pleasing Gwil if his smile was any indication. “So how was the trip out here?”

And that’s how you found yourself tucked into the hallway of Joe’s apartment, just exchanging stories with Gwil. You welcomed the change in subject, not wanting to harp on the whole Joe situation. You told him about the weird truck stop in Ohio, the delicious pizza you devoured in Chicago, the loud hotel neighbors you encountered in Colorado, and your brief stint in Las Vegas. Gwil offered his own road trip tales before the conversation shifted, and eventually he was regaling stories about various sets he’d worked on, actors he’d worked with, and general knowledge of the business. He even offered some much needed advice, melting away some of your initial anxieties about your career change. All feelings of loneliness and inklings of frustration at Joe were long gone, and you mentally thanked Joe for inviting at least one person you knew.

“Can I ask you something?” Gwil inquired after a little while, the two of you finding yourselves settled out in chairs on Joe’s balcony, enjoying the night air of LA.

“Fire away.”

“Did you and Joe ever date or anything?”

You burst out laughing at the question, shaking your head.

“No, no, definitely not,” you replied before taking a sip of your beer. You chanced a look at Gwil, finding him eyeing you warily.

“That’s surprising,” he admitted before pursing his lips and gently caressing his own beard, a gesture you noticed he did often.

“Why is that surprising?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Just the way he talks about you…” Gwil trailed off, his gaze focusing on the city lights before him. Your heart slammed against your chest at his words. You tried to keep your face neutral, not wanting to let Gwil know just how important what he was saying was to you.

“How...how does he talk about me?” you followed up, attempting to hide the quiver in your voice. Gwil immediately turned back to face you, his eyes glinting mischievously. His lips curved into a soft smile before he said your name gently.

“He...he’s in awe of you,” Gwil confessed. “I swear he talked about you constantly while we were shooting the film. ‘She’d be a great actress if she wanted to be. She’s funny, she’s charming, and she’s got the looks and talent.’ Everything reminded him of a funny story involving you. We practically knew you before we even met you.” Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as Gwil spoke. Sure, Joe had complimented you before. But something about the fact that he had practically bragged about you to people who didn’t even know you made your stomach flutter.

You realized Gwil had stopped talking and you met his gaze, finding his eyes narrowed at you.

“You should tell him,” he finally said after a few moments.

“Tell him what?” you asked, playing dumb. You knew exactly what he was referring to. The man had seen right through you. He smiled, this time seeing right through your act of denial.

“How you feel.”

You ran your hands over your face and let out a groan.

“I literally just moved in, Gwil,” you reasoned. “I don’t want to make him feel awkward about me staying here by telling him about the feelings he very clearly doesn’t reciprocate.” You gestured inside the apartment, where Joe was still talking it up with a few guys you recognized from Undrafted.

Gwil leaned forward, shuffling closer to you and placing a gentle hand on your knee.

“I know his actions tonight make it seem like he couldn’t care less. But I promise you, he’s so happy to have you here. He adores you. More than you even realize.”

You chewed on Gwil’s words, your mind swimming. You believed him; he had no reason to lie to you. But you just wished what Gwil told you lined up with how Joe had been behaving all night.

Eventually the two of you made your way back inside, to find the party had somewhat died down. Joe had shifted into clean up mode while the last small group was starting to make their exit. You instinctively began to straighten up, grabbing beer bottles and paper plates and disposing of them while Joe worked on packing up the leftover food.

You were tying up a full trash bag when Joe brushed past you, not even acknowledging your presence. Your heart sunk, knowing full well you couldn’t use the excuse that Joe was just distracted by others this time.

He was actually ignoring you.

As you opened a new trash bag, you began to wrack your brain for what you could have done already to piss him off. Gwil pulled you from your thoughts, pulling you in for a goodbye hug and a peck on the cheek. When he pulled away, his brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” It was amazing how quickly Gwil learned how to read you. Or maybe you were just that bad at masking your emotions.

Your lip trembled as you tried to prevent the tears from falling.

“He’s ignoring me now,” you revealed, earning a sympathetic look from Gwil.

“I’m sorry, love,” he offered quietly. “He’ll figure his shit out eventually.” Another hug, this one a bit longer as he held you against his chest. “I’ll text you next time I’m in town, we’ll all grab lunch.” You nodded with a soft smile before pulling away, turning your attention back to your cleaning.

Another minute passed, the last of the voices faded away, and the door clicked closed, leaving a silent apartment. You let out a sigh as you tossed the last of the plates you had found in the new trash bag. Pulling another beer out of the fridge, you ventured into the living room where you found Joe pushing the coffee table back to its original position. You awkwardly leaned against the arm of the loveseat as you waited for him to say something.

But he didn’t. After finishing rearranging, he passed by you once again, not even sparing you a glance, before heading back into the kitchen. You let out another sigh, following after him.

“Okay, can you please tell me what I did so I can fix it?” you pleaded, completely at a loss. Joe silently pulled a bottle of disinfectant and a rag out from under the sink and breezed past you another time, heading back into the living room. You scoffed at his actions, your sadness being replaced with anger at his immature way of handling himself.

You placed your beer down on the counter and trudged back into the living room, stopping in front of where Joe was wiping down the coffee table and crossing your arms.

“Joe? Are you going to talk to me or continue to ignore me like a fucking child?”

He froze, dropping the bottle and the rag on the table before finally, finally looking at you for the first time in hours.

“You’ve been here for what, five minutes? And you’re already trying to fuck my friends?”

Your jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

“You and Gwil seemed awfully cozy,” Joe replied before picking up the rag and continuing to wipe down the coffee table. You grabbed the rag from his hand, earning a sharp glare. “Hey--”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you roared, your blood boiling. “I hang out with the one fucking person I knew at my supposed ‘welcoming party’ besides you and suddenly I’m trying to fuck them?” You were shell-shocked at the accusation. Joe simply shrugged.

“The two of you were inseparable all night, what was I supposed to think?” he reasoned as he began to walk back into the kitchen. You scoffed again, tossing the rag onto the table in frustration at his nonchalant tone.

“How about the fact that you left me alone at a party full of strangers so I spent time with Gwil since you were busy with your other friends?” you fired back as you stomped into the kitchen. Joe began to wash his hands, still ignoring your piercing stare. “Like, holy shit, Joe. I know your world does not revolve around me, but the least you could do was acknowledge my existence. It’s my first night here, for fuck’s sake.”

That made him pause. He stared at the counter and you could practically hear how hard he was thinking. Suddenly, he met your gaze once again, a brazen look on his face.

“You could have come up to talk to me. I shouldn’t have to babysit you.”

His words were like a sword through your chest. Your jaw practically hit the floor this time.

“Fuck. You.” You turned on your heels and headed for the guest bedroom, angry hot tears escaping down your cheeks. You thanked your past self for barely unpacking anything before the party as you began to scoop up your toiletries and few pieces of clothing laying out on the bed and threw them back into your suitcase.

You felt ashamed and so so stupid for thinking that this had been a good idea. And the worst feeling of all was the embarrassment at thinking that there was ever a chance of Joe reciprocating any feelings for you. You were nothing but a burden to him. Someone he felt like he would have to “babysit.” You didn’t fit in in his world and you were foolish to think you could.

“What are you doing?”

You jumped at the sound of Joe’s voice behind you; you hadn’t even heard him approach. You swiped at a stray tear and finished zipping up your bag before lugging it onto the floor and pulling up the handle.

“I’m going to check into a hotel,” you explained as you pushed your way past him, luggage dragging behind you. “I don’t feel welcome here.” You began to make your way towards the front door, already feeling overwhelmed by anxiety. You had no idea what your next move was going to be. Stay in LA and try to figure things out? Go back home to two parents who would chant “we told you so” until they were blue in the face?

Joe’s hand caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Please don’t do that,” he pleaded, his tone from earlier completely gone and replaced with a much softer and more desperate one. “I’m sorry. Please stay.” You whipped around to face him.

“Which part are you sorry for?” you asked sharply. “The part where you ignored me? Or where you accused me of trying to sleep with your friend? Or maybe it’s the part where you said you shouldn’t have to ‘babysit me’?”

“All of it,” Joe replied. “I’m sorry I lashed out at you. I’m just--” he trailed off as he turned away, almost bashfully. “I can’t help but feel protective of you.”

You furrowed your brows. It didn’t make sense. He felt protective of you but didn’t want to have to ‘babysit you’? He felt protective of you but he got mad at you for talking to Gwil? You stuttered as you tried to put the pieces together, coming up empty.

“I don’t…” your voice petered out. You were completely flabbergasted. “What do you want from me, Joe?”

Joe’s eyes met yours once again, and you could see the conflict written on his face. He was struggling with something. It was almost as if he--

“I want…” he began, before taking a deep breath. “I want you to stay here tonight.”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. For some reason, a part of you was hopeful he would say something else. The two of you stared at each other for a few more moments, giving him the chance to say more. But it never came. So with a soft nod, you reached for your suitcase again, pulling it behind you as you walked back into the guest room, closing the door behind you.

✧✧✧

You awoke to the smell of bacon wafting into your room. You sat up, throwing your legs over the side of the bed. With a deep breath, you pushed yourself up and headed toward the bathroom.

The sight of your face in the mirror made you cringe. You hadn’t taken off your makeup before crying yourself to sleep the night before, leaving black streaks of mascara across your cheeks. You washed your face before running a comb through your hair. You knew you looked awful, but you didn’t care. Joe had seen you worse, and honestly, his opinion of you was not high on your priority list after his hissy fit last night.

You sauntered into the kitchen with a bit of hesitation, unsure what you’d be walking into. You found Joe, furiously whisking some pancake batter.

“Hey.”

He practically jumped out of his own skin, clumsily dropping the bowl of batter to the counter, luckily with little to no mess.

“Hey,” he replied, running a hand over the back of his neck. “How did you sleep?”

“Alright,” you lied. You had agonized over every detail of the evening until practically three in the morning. But you didn’t want Joe to know that. If he knew, he didn’t let on, instead offering you a small smile.

“I made bacon and I’m about to make pancakes,” he stated, gesturing towards the stove behind him. You nodded simply and took a seat at his kitchen island.

Things were awkward. You didn’t even know where to begin. Part of you wanted to tell him to forget everything and start fresh. It would make things easier. But part of you wanted to stand strong, make sure you held him accountable for how he’d hurt you.

You mulled over everything, idly chewing on a piece of bacon as Joe worked at the stove, mumbling under his breath about the pancakes cooking inconsistently or something. After a few minutes, you were pulled from your thoughts by a plate of pancakes being placed in front of you. You glanced up to see Joe eyeing you, an uncertain look on his face.

“I’m a huge asshole,” he admitted. You opened your mouth to agree with him but he kept going. “You were right. I was avoiding you during the party. It was easier for me to convince myself that you were having a good time than to check up on you myself. I thought I…” he trailed off, losing momentum. He shook his head and began again. “I assured myself that I could handle being around you again. That enough time had passed and I could be your best friend again without a second thought. But then you walked through my front door and it all came rushing back and I panicked.” You shook your head, trying to keep up with what Joe was trying to tell you.

“I don’t understand--”

“I’m in love with you.”

For the third time in less than twenty-four hours, your jaw dropped.

“I honestly think I’ve been in love with you since high school, but it took me well into my late twenties for me to actually realize it. And I got so caught up on this fantasy of you and I being this acting dream team, showing this fucking town who’s boss, together. And then you were here and you had spent the last week road-tripping across the country yet somehow you looked so fucking beautiful? And I just...couldn’t handle it. I invited practically everyone in my contacts to come over right away because I needed a buffer. I turned my focus to everyone else at the party because it was familiar and certain. With you there was so much uncertainty.”

He paused for a moment and collected his thoughts once again.

“And then I saw you with Gwil. I knew it wasn’t anything. But you were smiling and laughing with him and I just couldn’t help but wish you were spending your time with me. I know that doesn’t make sense. But I just got so caught up in my own head so when you finally confronted me, I panicked again. I threw everything back at you because I was afraid and embarrassed.”

You watched him as he plopped down on the stool next to you with a sigh.

“I wish I could do it all over again. There wouldn’t be a party. Just you and me like it used to be,” he continued. He turned to you, eyes sad with regret. “I am so so so sorry. You were right about everything. Except one thing. My world does revolve around you. The day you told me you were coming out here was the happiest day I’ve had in awhile. I’ve thought about nothing else since. But I completely understand if you want to leave. Hell, I’ll pay for your hotel and help you figure out what you want to do. But I also understand if you want me to just leave you alone.”

To say you were stunned would be an understatement. Your heart was pounding out of your chest at Joe’s confession. You didn’t even know what to say. There was so much that needed to be said, but you were frozen in place.

So you didn’t speak. You just moved.

You gripped the sides of Joe’s head and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. He let out a small noise in surprise, but quickly melted into the kiss, his own hands reaching for you and landing on your hips. You kissed him hard, pouring every emotion you felt into it. Every past pang of your heart when Joe had gone out of his way to do something for you. Every past flutter of your stomach when he had wrapped his arms around you. Every ounce of frustration and hurt that flooded your heart last night. He kissed you back just as eagerly, pulling you off the stool and closer to him, your chests pressing together.

You finally pulled away to gasp for breath, your forehead still pressed against Joe’s.

“I love you too, you asshole,” you breathed out, earning a chuckle from Joe. He pulled back to look at you, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You think I’d uproot my entire life and move across the country if I wasn’t completely in love with you?”

Joe’s face lit up before he dove in for another kiss.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” he asked, running his hands up and down your sides. You pursed your lips as you thought it over.

“I’ll only forgive you if you help me finish unpacking,” you reasoned, a smirk playing at your lips. Joe beamed, pulling you closer to him so you were practically in his lap.

“So you’re gonna stay?”

“Of course I’m staying. Why stay in a hotel when I can stay with my former best friend?” Joe’s brows furrowed.

“Former?”

“I guess I just figured ‘love of my life’ was a better title for you,” you revealed with a smile, running your fingers through his auburn locks. Joe pulled you in for another searing kiss, standing up and pressing you against the island, earning a squeal from you. After a moment, he pulled away, grabbing your hand and practically running down the hall towards the guest room, pancakes long forgotten.

✧✧✧

Permanent Taglist (crossed out names won’t let me tag): @queenlover05, @mrhoemazzello, @madamsledge, @sadhwstudent, @johndeaconshands, @puffnstuff08

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello x you #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello angst #joe mazzello fluff

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fenweak · 4 years

Photo

As requested! This rec list features Kazer Kid Fics -- Jonny and Patrick both with kids and babies AND as kids and babies, with a small dash of de-aging and a spoonful of mpreg.

⭐ for my personal faves

My Other Rec Lists 🍭 Rec me a fic? 🍭

The Ones Where They Have Kids

No Capes by sorrylatenew ⭐ - j/p as parents; implied mpreg

Husbands. Dads. Retired superheroes.

The Reeducation of Misters Kane and Toews + timestamp by jezziejay - single dad Patrick, teacher Jonny ⭐

In which Kaner sort of has a kid, and Mr. Toews doesn't know which of them is the bigger brat.

AU featuring teacher!Jon and hockey-player!Kaner. With bonus 'Hawks characters, love notes, pasta jewelry, Be Better Pizzas, pirouettes, a sprinke of angst and guest appearance by Derek Jeter.

trust your intuition (it's just like goin' fishin') by poeelektra - 1988 as parents

They’re on the periphery of the Home Wares section of Target, heading with purposeful stride toward Sporting Goods, when Gabe declares that he wants a doll for his “Been Good” toy.

Every Little Thing He Does (is magic) by jezziejay - single dad Patrick

Jonny Toews is a bewitching man who moves into a mysterious mansion in a small town. Soon, he opens Bell, Book & Candle, a curiosity shop full of candles, lotions, etc., and is enthralling the children of local police chief (Patrick Kane), who believe he is a witch (but not a bad one.) But not everyone in town is appreciative of their quirky new neighbor, and it may take a little bit of magic for him to truly become part of the community.

Under Cover by heartstrings - 1988 as parents

"Just get in the fucking blanket fort, Kaner."

Feels Like Family To Me + prequels by exmanhater - 1988 as parents

Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane plan, create, and obtain their family.

living next door to alice series by cinderlily - 1988 as parents

"It started with a phone call."Patrick and Jonny are suddenly given the opportunity to be parents. This is how they stumble through it.

some say love is a burning thing podfic by exmanhater - 1988 as parents

If anyone had told Johnny upon entering the NHL that thirteen years later he'd not only have a kid with Patrick Kane, but would be getting ready to go on a 'date night,’ he'd have said they must be smoking some pretty good shit.And then he'd have to wait a decade to eat his words.

In the Middle of the Night - 1988 as parents

Gone are the days when it took a cold, wet washcloth on his face to wake him up. Or: Five times Pat and Jonny's daughter wakes them up, plus one time they wake her up.

so show me family - single dad Patrick

Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one. ~Jane Howard

Fill It Up With Love by Frosting50 - single dad Pat; implied mpreg

So Pat’s senior year doesn’t turn out exactly like he’d planned. He still gets his degree in accounting, but he also gets a little girl named Emma. She’s all fat pink cheeks, curly brown hair, and blue eyes. She might have Ryan’s chin, but she’s all Pat’s. And the first time she falls asleep on his chest, chubby hand curled around his thumb, skin so soft and sweet he damn-near feels bowled over with how much he loves her. He didn’t know he could love anyone so much; it makes his heart feel too big for his chest, and he knows that he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to give her the world.

peas & carrots by altri_uccelli - 1988 as parents

Unapologetic Halloween fluff, or: Jonny forgets what day it is, but Kaner's on it.

Can You Lyft Me Up? by Mullsandmutts - single dad Patrick

Even high profile athletes like Chicago Blackhawks Captain Jonathan Toews are forced to utilize paid transportation from time to time. An accidental "share my ride" selection on an app results in a life-altering ride with an mouthy Russian driver (Artemi), an unfairly attractive single father (Patrick Kane) and his adorable sassy (and color-matching-challenged) preschool daughter (introducing Molly Donna Patricia Amelia Kane aka Mo). Jonathan refuses to feel too sketch when he negotiates a plan with the driver to "accidentally" have more shared rides with his new friends. When Mo has a traumatic incident at day camp, Patrick's heart is broken and Jonny enlists the help of Temi and the ever-meddling Patrick Sharp to get smiles back on both Kane faces. Jonathan finds himself more and more drawn to Patrick but Patrick's fears of being a good enough parent for Mo and meeting all of her needs could keep them apart. Will Temi, the Sharp family and a trio of nosy aunts in Buffalo be enough to help Jonathan and Patrick realize what they could have together or will Patrick's stubbornness and Jonathan's fear of ruining their friendship keep them apart? Stay tuned to find out ....

Three by Linsky - i won’t spoil it

Patrick doesn’t think he’s a pervert. But how would he know? Maybe a pervert is just a thing you are, and it doesn’t feel any different from being a normal person, until you do something perverted. Maybe that’s him.After all, he does have two names on his wrist.

All Your Memories by toewsandconfused - 1988 as parents; amnesiafic

Pat went to sleep a bachelor in the Trump Towers and woke up next to Jonny in the suburbs with three kids calling him Daddy. Struggling to figure out his new reality Patrick had ruled out dream, was banking on delusion because even though it meant he was losing his mind, it seemed safer than some kind of late-onset amnesia. He didn’t want to face that idea that this really was his life; that Jonny was his, that those beautiful kids were his, and he couldn’t remember any of it. The idea that the memories of their life together could be lost forever was too terrifying to deal with. Losing his mind was preferable to losing his memories.

Chelsea, Chelsea I Believe by empathapathique - single dad Pat ⭐

Patrick meets a girl his rookie year.

Don't Let Go by aohatsu - 1988 as adoptive parents

“So you were already with the boy you saved when the fire started?”Patrick pauses, but shakes his head. “No, there was an explosion—I don’t really know what it was, but then it was just me and Tigre, and it’s like, in a situation like that, you don’t really think? You just do. So I grabbed the kid and went through the fire escape. It’s not like I decided I wanted to save anybody, it was just the only option.”

Always Be My Baby by juliusschmidt - single dad Patrick

The thing is, you don’t just grow up once.

as careless as you are certain - single dad Patrick

March through August, 2015.

the one with the baby yentas series by forochel

Tazer has a son and Kaner is his son's kindergarten teacher.

It's the Magic of Risking Everything by conformityissuicide - single dad Jonny

When Jonny is thirteen he meets a small kid from Buffalo at a hockey tournament.

Then he has a gay crisis, a baby girl, and gets drafted 3rd overall by an Original Six franchise.

When he meets Patrick Kane again at prospect camp he doesn’t feel anything but excitement.

And then it all goes to hell.

"of gifts and fireflies" by huntersandangels - single dad Jon

Patrick Kane hasn’t lived a charmed life despite money flowing through his veins. The journey he is currently on, though paved with good intentions, proves to be a harder challenge than he could ever be ready for. The people he meets along the way give him a much more valued gift than his grandfather could ever dream of giving him.

I'm gonna love you til my lungs give out by arenadomatthews - 1988 as parents

“Papa, Dad, you guys are retiring today?” Bryan asks, looking up at his parents.“Yeah buddy, we are. Are you gonna behave while Dad and I are doing our press conference?” Patrick asks.

“Duh, Dad. I'm not a baby anymore,” he scoffs.

“He's right, Pat. He's our big boy now,” Jonny adds.

“Yeah, I'm going into 4th grade,” Bryan boasts pridefully.Patrick and Jonathan are finally announcing their retirement after 20 NHL seasons. However, their retirement ceremony will come with a twist: they'll be publicly coming out and revealing their family

Your Daddy's Aim Is True by thefourthvine; podfic by isweedan - cup wish baby! ⭐

patch it up by gasmsinc - 1988 as parents

Jonny stares at his daughter for a long moment. She stares back, eyes unwavering. She has Kaner’s baby blues, but at five she’s already mastered Jonny’s dead on the inside stare. Her kindergarten teacher claims she uses the unwavering look to bully other students into doing what she wants, and it’s something they should work on at home, but Jonny’s baby is a natural born leader, and he’s not going to get in her way of becoming the president, or, better yet, the supreme ruler of the universe.

Your patch,” says Jonny.

Baby, It's Hot Outside by toewsyourheart - single dad Pat

Jonny goes for a popsicle and gets a little bit more than he bargained for.

Take All That's Left - divorced single dad Pat

It’s been 6 years now, and he’s grown to enjoy the city since signing with the Rangers to follow Anna, who’d found a job in Brooklyn.

But Chicago; Chicago was Patrick’s first love, all his important firsts – it’s all been hers, and having to leave had been heartbreaking. Too many memories from Chicago were heartbreaking, and yet he always yearned for the city, always felt more comfortable walking her streets than any other place in the world. No other place quite felt like home the way Chicago did.

Isn’t She Lovely by windsthatwhisper + podfic by kanetcews (lavenderharry) - wish baby!

It's nine in the morning when Pat and Jonny stumble down the stairs, sluggish with sleep.

There’s a baby carrier on the kitchen island.

Jonny blinks, blinks again, then turns to get a cup of coffee.

Recreation, Entertainment, Art, or Sport by trademarkgiggle

of course jonathan toews can juggle

so show me family series by peeks, tazer - teacher Pat

“Just admit you like him.”

“Shut up, Sharpy,” Patrick says, before he rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the smirk widening on Sharpy’s lips. “Don’t you have your kids’ parents to bother?”

“No, my last kid left a couple minutes ago, so I’m totally here to watch you and Jonathan Toews make heart eyes at each other,” Sharpy laughs, waltzing into Patrick’s classroom. He immediately makes his way to see Sadie, who greets her dad with a hug.

(In which Patrick Kane is terrible at feelings but luckily, Patrick Sharp is a total bro.)

The Ones Where They’re With Kids

In My Blood and In My Bones + Nothing Sweet or Gentle by fourfreedoms ⭐

Patrick’s not really into dudes—he’s done that whole thing a couple of times—that’s rock-n-roll after all, but god, when Jonathan smiles, he looks really good.Johnny is a nanny. Patrick's a musician. They fall in love. Inspired by the movie What Maisie Knew.

the kids are alright

Patrick works at the sporting goods store Jonny takes his peewee team to for equipment.

given to us as free-flying souls by Mayhem10

Jonathan had never really considered himself particularly good with kids. He didn’t avoid them or anything and it’s not like they burst into tears when they saw his face, but he never was exactly sure what to do with them, these little people running around at waist height. It just wasn’t his area.So, of course, Patrick was basically the child whisperer.

(or five times Jonathan saw Patrick with kids and one time Patrick saw him)

Hide Your Face So The World Will Never Find You (Paper Faces On Parade) by huntersandangels

Jonathan Toews, farm owner and guardian of his nephew, is in desperate need of capable farm hands. Patrick Kane certainly does not fit the description but when a mutual friend confides in him that Patrick has lost everything he owned and is in serious need himself and offers Jonathan money to hire him, how can he say no?

Patrick Kane loves statistics and spending his money on thoroughly planned ‘adventures’ for his friends when he’s not partying away the rest of his fortune. If he wins the bet he can continue to plot freely but if he loses his extra curriculum activities have to stop. He agrees to go on an ‘adventure’ himself and settles in the Toews Farm posing as a farm hand. But as the time goes by, the less pretend it feels-and the more he enjoys Jonathan and Etienne’s company and the quite life in the farm; to the point where he’s not sure whether he wants to win the bet or lose...

Baby, You're the One by jezziejay ⭐

6k words of Jonathan Toews having feelings about babies. And feelings about Kaner. And feelings about putting a baby in Kaner.

The Ones Where They Are Kids

The Cat and the Fiddle series by james - childhood soulmates!

When Donna's son is four, he creates an imaginary friend.

i want to know what you know by sointimate - childhood sweethearts

Patrick is six years old and he's about to do the scariest thing he's ever done in his whole life.

Colorblind by july_v ⭐

Jon is five when he meets Patrick. It's also the time he begins to understand colors as more than an abstract concept.

How to become a man series+ coda by liketheroad, mockturtletale

In which Kaner gets spontaneously de-aged into a six-year-old, and he and Tazer both have a lot of growing up to do.

Romper Room by james - de-aged 1988

Sharpie doesn't really think this should be part of his duty as alternate captain. Luckily, none of this is his fault. A.K.A., the one where Kaner and Johnny are five.

you ruined everything in the best way by thisissirius + podfic by exmanhater .⭐ - de-aged Saader

Kaner's looking down at the kid, though, frowning. He crouches down. "Hey, kid, where are your parents?

"The kid's bottom lip juts out and starts wobbling. Fuck, that means he's going to start crying, right?

"Oh shi—oot, kid, don't cry," Kaner says. "I mean, if you don't know where they are, we can find 'em?"

"Kaner," Sharpy presses. "That's Saad."

don't worry about your body - de-aged Jonny

No one said anything. Everyone stared at each other then down at the tiny human being that was standing where Jonny had been. Kaner felt his mouth go entirely dry, and his stomach drop out from underneath him.

What the fuck, man.

Can You Picture It? by RemyJane

In which Kaner turns into a baby and everyone besides Jonny seems to understand. Includes excessive cuddling, ridiculously adorable baby-Kaner, and feelings. Jonny eventually figures everything out.

Never Getting That Shirt Back by ice_hot_13 - de-aged Pat

Patrick is de-aged into a toddler, and when he's with Jonny, he isn't a holy terror.

Je T'aime by banks99 (Nodiggity15) - de-aged Jonny

“He won’t take a bath. He’s arguing with me. It’s like he didn’t even change at all.” Kaner’s not pouting, fuck you very much.

MPREG

I Got a Love (That Keeps Me Waiting) by svmadelyn ⭐ -mpreg!pat

There's a lot of different ways this summary could go, like:Patrick Kane gets more than a gold medal in Sochi.

Or, the classic: It's too late to pull out now.Or: Patrick Kane continues to thrive in high pressure situations.Or: Patrick Kane gets knocked up, goes to White Castle, and finds love, not necessarily in that order.

But, ultimately, all that really matters is this: Patrick Kane is keeping his baby.

private passions and secret storms (all the secrets series) by CoffeeKristin, Frosting50 - mpreg!pat

Jonny’s life is good - great even. He loves Patrick and their kids, and even if they don’t always have time for each other, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. But when Jeff Carter comes into his life, Jonny’s world gets turned upside down. It’s going to take everything he’s got to convince Patrick to give him a second - maybe even a third - chance.

Patrick’s blindsided by Jonny’s betrayal and putting his family back together is a lot harder than he expected when their past comes back to haunt them.Can love conquer all?

Forever & Always, My Baby You'll Be by windsthatwhisper - mpreg!jonny

Jonny and Pat's life is a cycle of curse words, late night feedings, and five minute handjobs in the hallway closet.

Aka, I wanted some 1988 w/ a baby feels so I wrote this blurb of a thing in about seven minutes.

efficacy by thirteentorafters - mpreg!patrick

“You,” Patrick says, jabbing a finger angrily at Jonny. “Are gonna fucking help me, dickface.”

Opening his mouth to ask what the hell is going on; Jonny’s eyes drop to Patrick’s stomach. Jonny is acquainted with Patrick’s naked body and the last time they met, Patrick wasn’t fat. Or paunchy. Except that doesn’t look like usual fat. “Oh fuck.”

“Yeah, ‘oh fuck’,” Patrick says, imitating Jonny’s tone. “You knocked me up, asshole. What are you gonna do about it?”

Forever & Always, My Baby You'll Be by windsthatwhisper - mpreg!jonny

Jonny and Pat's life is a cycle of curse words, late night feedings, and five minute handjobs in the hallway closet.

Looked So Fine (I Just Had To Speak) by svmadelyn - !!!! ⭐

Patrick Kane’s talking penis maintains a ‘to do’ list. It is as follows:1. Jonathan Toews

Phone Tag by hawkeytime (jayyloo) - mpreg!Jonny

"Hi mom. Sorry I couldn’t catch you, so I guess I’ll just, uh.. leave a message. See, the thing is… my super-potent sperm may or may not have managed to knock Jonny up. Okay bye."

"Yes, hello, is this Hockey Canada? I just want it written on the record, today, June 31, 2015, that my incredibly improbable unborn child with Jonathan Toews will be playing for America. Yes, I’ll hold.

"Or: Pat accidentally knocks Jonny up. A saga told in a series of voicemails

A Royal Baby - mpreg!Pat

A cough from the doorway cuts Seabs off mid sentence. Duncs is standing watching them, a particularly somber expression on his face. "Jonny, I'm sorry to interrupt but you have a visitor that you'll want to go see right away.""Now really isn't a good time," Jonny tells him, not even putting down his fork."Trust me Your Highness," Duncs says, "This will be worth it."

[Patrick and Jonathan think their time brief time together at the Olympics is all they can ever have. Patrick's ensuing pregnancy proves otherwise.]

sun sweet berries of the earth series by gasmsinc - mpreg!Pat; a/b/o

There is a spirit living in Patrick State Park.“Listen,” says Jonny. “I didn’t mean to step on your crown.”The spirit’s bottom lip wobbles.

Tame the Roads That Can't Be Tamed by Linsky - mpreg!Pat; a/b/o

Patrick’s flown a million times. He’s never gotten airsick before. Even on last year’s epic flight to Denver, when they hit massive turbulence and half the team was groaning over barf bags, Patrick’s stomach was fine. And maybe he’s sick, sure—but why doesn’t he feel sick the rest of the time? Why is it only mornings and—

Oh.

Oh, no.

Oh fucking no.

(Or: In which it is difficult to be a wolf in the NHL, especially when you're not that good at condoms.)

Carve His Name With Pride ⭐ - mpreg!Jonny

Jonny leaves behind a home, a house, and a hockey career the month after he learns that he’s pregnant.

Eyass - mpreg!Jonny

"I dunno," Kaner tells him. "Whatever you need, man. You’re having a baby! That’s a lot of work. I want to be here for you."

Somehow, in the dozens of conversations he’s had with teammates and friends and family in the past few days, no one has said those exact words to Jonny: “you’re having a baby”. He has to comb his fingers through his hair and take a deep, steadying breath to compose himself.

Kaner notices and smiles at him; a crooked, beautiful thing. “It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

Heartburn and Survival by dedougal - mpreg!Jonny

They were in Canada when Jonny found out he was pregnant. Afterwards, Jonny used that as a point in his bulleted list of arguments about why Jack should represent Canada but, to be entirely truthful, finding out in Canada - finding out anywhere - was pretty disastrous.

Three Cups and a Pup by Miss_Psychotic, nommedeplume - mpreg!Patrick

The Story of Alpha Jonny and Omega Kaner getting their shit together and learning how to be Adulting Adults (Finally)

Chips and Cribs by whatislife - mpreg!Jonny

“What do you mean there are no chips,” Jonny asks from where he is standing by the island, hand resting on his stomach. “Weren’t they on the list? Did you not buy them?”(Patrick just wants to sleep.)

#patrick kane #jonathan toews #1988 #blackhawks #hockey rpf #chicago blackhawks #kazer #kaner #it's possible i have missed some stuff #it's been so long since i reread anything 1988!#askbox is open for your suggestions on this (╯▽╰ )

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eberles · 4 years

Text

Love, Rafe♡

Part 5 - 5 Years Later

Rafe Cameron x OC

A/N: AHHH once again there are a lot of time gaps, i tried to make it as easy to understand and follow along as possible! There’s only one more chapter left after this, thank you guys so so much for reading!! If you’ve seen the movie, please note that I left the funeral scene out.

Warnings: angst, swearing

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

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“I’m not jealous, Zoe, I feel sorry for you, and I can’t do this.” Rafe laughed out and walked away from Zoe leaving her on the side walk for the second time that night.

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽

It’s been a few months since Zoe and Rafe’s fight in Boston and they haven’t had much contact with each other since that night. Rafe was beginning to get a little lonely these days with just him and Katie together all the time. He was ready to start settling down and he wanted Katie to have a chance at having a mother figure in her life. Little did he know it would be her actual mother, Olivia, to show up at his apartment door.

“Olivia, I uh, wh-what are you doing here?” Rafe asked, stuttering through his words while making awkward eye contact with Olivia. Truth be told, it was weird for him to see her. Rafe had always assumed she would never come back, it has been 5 years after all.

“It’s been 3 years, Rafe...I miss my family. I’m not the same naive girl I was when I left, can I come in?” Olivia said with a nervous tone.

“It’s been 5 years, Olivia, not 3. And no, I don’t think you can come in, not while Katie is home anyways.” Rafe said wanting to just close the door in her face and be done with it.

“I’m so sorry Rafe, but there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in the last 5 years that I haven’t thought about her! Does she look like me at all? Does she have my blonde hair? Does she talk like me?” Olivia asked with a genuine voice, wanting to know more about the baby she abandoned all those years ago.

“Oh, please, that’s bullshit!” Rafe replied trying to keep his voice low so Katie wouldn’t come running to the door from her room.

“Please, Rafe, you have to give me another chance, i’m different, I promise.” Olivia looked at Rafe with the post pleading eyes he’d ever seen from her. And he stood there for a few minutes just staring at her, contemplating letting Olivia back into his life. Back into his daughters life.

“One chance, you get one chance, don’t screw it up. Seriously, you won’t get another one.” Rafe made himself perfectly clear and Olivia promised not to fuck anything up with him and Katie, and she kept that promise.

For their first meeting together Rafe decided to bring the girls to the beach so they can fly kites together. Rafe thought it was really sweet being able to see Katie bond with her mother even if it was just flying kites. Katie had one hell of a time and she really started to get accustomed to having Olivia around.

After that day, the 3 of them spent a lot of time together so Olivia and Katie could get to know each other better. Olivia and Rafe helped Katie with her homework, they went to the movies, they cooked together, they played tennis, and went to the beach. The 3 of them did everything together and it only took a few months for Rafe to start developing actual feelings for Olivia. She definitely was not the same girl who had left them all those years ago, he actually liked this version of her. And for the first time in 6 years, Rafe was ready to have a real relationship with someone. He wanted to belong to someone.

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽

Two years later and it came as a huge surprise to Zoe when she received a letter in the mail from Rafe. Not just any letter though, it was a wedding invitation for Rafe and Olivia. Zoe didn’t attend the wedding though and Rafe ignored her calls because of it. And when Rafe and Olivia moved out of their small apartment after the wedding and moved into a house together, Zoe was moving out the perfect Boston apartment she lived in with Nate.

It’s been about 2 months since Rafe got married and he wanted nothing else, but to call Zoe and see how she was doing, so he did.

“Hello?” Rafe called Zoe’s home phone and wasn’t expecting an unfamiliar female voice to answer.

“Uh, hi? Is Zoe there?” Rafe asked confused, but he could hear on the other end of the line that the mystery girl told Nate that someone was calling for Zoe.

“Rafe? Is that you?” Nate asked when the girl handed him the phone.

“Yea, it’s me. Where is Zoe? Who just answered the phone?” Rafe was mad now and it was showing through his words.

“It was Melissa, now calm down, Zoe moved out, we broke up, it was actually the day of your wedding, when she left.” Nate spoke softly into the phone, Rafe quickly hung up since he didn’t care to ask any further questions.

From Rafe: Oh Zoe, if only i’d known...also, Melissa?

From Zoe: Melissa is the girl Nate was cheating on me with, turns out she’s pregnant.

From Rafe: Oh Zoe :(

From Zoe: It’s okay, he sucked anyways.

Rafe couldn’t sleep that night. All he could think about was Zoe.

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽

Five years later and Katie is now 12. She acts how every pre-teen acts. Loud music, wearing makeup, annoying Rafe, it’s all the same. She even had a boy best friend, Toby, they met when they were in kindergarten and spent all of their time together since, and frankly, they reminded Rafe a lot of him and Zoe. One day when Rafe was at work with his father a familiar face walked in, it was pretty random and it took Rafe by a complete surprise.

“Jeremy?!” Rafe asked surprised. He hasn’t seen Jeremy since that awkward day on the sidewalk when Katie was a baby.

“Rafe Cameron. I didn’t know you worked here.” Jeremy said shocked.

“My dad owns the place, actually.” Rafe said matter of factly.

“Wow, you gonna take it over one day, then?” Jeremy laughed out.

“Yea, but I mean, look at you! You’ve really taken off with your acting right?” Rafe asked, even though he didn’t care much, he just wanted the attention off of himself.

“Oh yea, and I travel all the time too, New York, LA, Boston, Chicago, it’s crazy!” Jeremy replied, very obviously gloating the fact he could go anywhere anytime.

“Boston? You should get in touch with Zoe!” Rafe suggested.

“Zoe? You guys still talk?” Jeremy asked surprised.

“Of course! And she could use a friendly face.”

“I’ll think about it.” Jeremy responded, while Rafe just silently rolled his eyes. Jeremy always had the “i’m better than everyone” attitude, and Rafe could always see right threw it.

A few days after Rafe’s encounter with Jeremy, Zoe decided to write a heartfelt letter to Rafe about all the feelings she’s had for him over the years. It was random, but she was missing Rafe an excruciating amount lately and couldn’t care it any longer.

Rafe,

You deserve someone who loves you with every beat of her heart, someone you’ll always be there for you, and you’ll love every part of you...

That letter didn’t end up in the hands of Rafe, though. It did end up in the hands of Olivia, however. She opened the letter and wasn’t too pleased with what it entailed and took it upon herself to hide it from Rafe. After not hearing a response from Rafe, Zoe decided to text him to see where his head was at.

From Zoe: Rafe, I understand that you haven’t been in touch. And I just need to know one thing. Are you happy with her?

From Rafe: There’s not much I got right in my life, but this family, somehow we’re making it work. So I guess the one word answer to your question should be, “yes.”

“Babe, come back to bed.” Jeremy spoke, making Zoe lift her head from her phone with a disappointed look etched onto her face after reading Rafe’s last message.

Another few weeks later and Rafe had a business trip with his father planned for the entire weekend which would mean leaving Katie alone with Olivia. Which was fine, in the last 5 years they had been alone together, of course, but Olivia was not expecting for Rafe to come home early after fighting with his father.

When Rafe walked into his house he was more than confused to see a man’s coat hung up in his entry way. Making his way around the house he quickly noticed that Katie wasn’t home and there was pieces of clothing scattered around the stairs and halls. Once he got up to the bedroom he shared with Olivia he had no problem storming right in, since he assumed Olivia wasn’t going to be alone. It didn’t take long for Rafe to pull the man off of Olivia and punch him square in the face.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” Rafe yelled angrily as Olivia just sat there with a shocked expression on her face. She quickly realized he was talking to both of them. They made their way out of his house pretty fast and Rafe immediately started throwing all of Olivia’s shit into boxes, not wanting to look at it anymore. As he was going threw her drawers, he noticed one of them was locked and after finally prying it open he found a letter addressed to him from Zoe.

Rafe,

You deserve someone who loves you with every beat of her heart, someone you’ll always be there for you, and you’ll love every part of you, especially your flaws. I know Katie needs her mom. I don’t want to intrude. So if this is all wrong, just ignore it and I promise i’ll never bring the subject up again. Olivia’s not the girl for you, Rafe. Twice i’ve let you slip through my fingers. Let’s stop being afraid and take the chance. I know now I can make you happy. Call me if you feel the same way.

Love, Zoe

“Fuck.” Rafe whispered with tears in his eyes after reading the letter.

From Rafe: Zoe, are you there?

From Zoe: ???

From Rafe: Can you talk?

From Zoe: I don’t think you wanna talk to me

From Rafe: Zoe, please? You’re being weird?

After that text, Rafe received an incoming FaceTime call from Zoe, except it wasn’t Zoe on the other end of the line, it was in fact Jeremy.

“Jeremy? What are you doing there?” Rafe asked, utterly shocked that he answered Zoe’s phone.

“I live here now, I moved in.” Jeremy laughed out as Zoe came up behind Jeremy to see who he was talking to.

“Rafe?!” Zoe asked, surprised.

“Babe, now that he’s here, you may as well tell him what we discussed!” Jeremy said excitedly, while wrapping his arms around Zoe and pulling her into his lap.

“Tell me what?” Rafe asked nervously.

“We’re getting married! The wedding is next week, we know it’s fast, but it was the only time that worked since i have a movie to shoot soon. You have to come, obviously. Zoe wants you to give a toast.” Jeremy interrupted Zoe when she started to say it and she kept staring at Rafe through the screen. The only thing Rafe could do is smile and nod his head. He didn’t know what to say, if he had read the letter when it was delivered, things would be much different right now.

Part 6

taglist: @maaybanks @maybankiara @ssjiara @fav-imagines @jjmaybankx @drewsephsmiles @downbytheouterbanks @beautyandthebleh @spilledtee @rretrophilee @teeks-konecny @kitluvs1 @snkkat @pixelated-pogues @hoodcal96 @famousstarsandkelly @ilovejjmaybank @northcarolinanative @drewxxrudy @prejudic3 @whoreforouterbanks @afterglowsb-tch13 @k-k0129 @teenwaywardasgardian

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #outer banks imagine

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fanfic-corner · 4 years

Text

Writer Castiel

4/12/20 - I have wanted to be a writer since I was ten years old, so maybe I’m biased here, but I absolutely adore the idea of Cas being an author if he lived a different life!

Tabula Rasa by Dangerousnotbroken on AO3. (78,240 words).

Tags: Writer Castiel, Bartender Dean, Past Relationship, Pervasive Themes of Memory, Magic, Canon Typical Violence, Mentions of alcoholism, Mentions of Past Child Neglect, Mental Illness, Witches, Ghosts, Bi!Dean, Bi!Castiel, Referenced Past Minor Character Death, Angst, Slow Burn, Memory Loss.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Once upon a time, Castiel Novak had everything. He had a happy home life, a full scholarship, and, if he played his cards right, a promising journalism career. And on top of all of that, he had Dean. Then tragedy struck, as it tends to do, and Castiel lost everything. At thirty six, he’s got none of those things. He’s got no family to speak of. He’s got a job investigating purportedly true tales of the supernatural for a magazine no one reads. And worst of all he hasn’t seen Dean in nearly twenty years. So when research for an article turns him on to a witch who apparently grants wishes in exchange for stories, Castiel figures it’s worth the risk. If making a deal with a witch can get him Dean back, what has he got to lose?

Notes: This was absolutely amazing; both written beautifully and with a fantastic plot.

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance on AO3. (31,820 words).

Tags: Horror, Psychological Trauma, Domestic Violence.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Almost two years after the world doesn't end, Castiel falls from grace—and loses his voice in the process. It is the impetus for confession and change; before long, he is settling into a loving relationship with Dean, the Winchesters are tired, and hunting for a place to land has taken precedence to hunting anything else. Dean and Castiel fall in love with the strange little house on the end of Swallowtail Drive, and for a little while life is as it should be—sweet, affectionate, and beginning afresh. But more and more Castiel sees and hears things in the house that beg the question of whether or not a place itself can be alive. The walls and rooms seem to shift and grow and breathe, and one night, Dean comes home from a hunt changed in a way that Castiel cannot explain. In the months that follow, their domestic bliss takes turns for the dark and sour, and the confusion of their circumstances will ultimately test everything Castiel knows about the man he loves, and everything he believes to be true.

Notes: Excellently written, made me cry, and the ending was brilliant. Technically it isn’t tagged as Cas being a writer, but he does write some poetry throughout, and I couldn’t help myself.

Lost and Found by whelvenwings on AO3. (7,762 words).

Tags: Writer Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Demisexual Castiel.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: “Chuck Shurley? Sure, I’ve read his books. Kinda Vonnegut, but like, Kilgore-Trout Vonnegut, you know?” Dean took another gulp of his whisky, and smacked his lips like an adult. The guy sitting beside him at the bar, however, did not look suitably impressed. In fact, he was staring down into the bubbles of his cider, not even noticing the way that Dean was smiling at him, giving him the eyes. “I thought his stuff was pretty good, in a kinda metamodern way,” Dean added airily, and a little more loudly. The guy only nodded gloomily. Dean almost clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in frustration. C’mon, dude, I’m trying to impress you. Twenty minutes of talking and all Dean had to show for it was a weird first name, a series of dour stares and the strangest need to know more about this – Castiel.

Notes: This was written so well that I wanted to cry at Cas’ story of the stars, even though it wasn’t particularly sad. Now I want to go and stargaze with someone.

The House on the Ocean Road by coffeeandcas on AO3. (111,351 words).

Tags: Single Parent Castiel, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Baggage, Hurt Dean Winchester, Writer Castiel, Car Accidents, Past Character Death, Adopted Children, Mentions of Suicide, Slow Burn, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Near Death Experiences, Hospitals, Explicit Sexual Content, POV Dean.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester is on the run from his life. He's done something unforgivable, and can't face his family or friends ever again. So he does what any rational person would do: fakes his own death and vanishes into the ether. Wandering aimlessly along country roads, he succumbs to the elements during a violent storm and wakes up hours later in the home of a stranger: a single dad living alone in an isolated beach house, with a haunting past of his own. Cas is sweet and shy, but welcomes Dean into his home and tells him he can stay as long as he needs, never prying into his life or asking him to spill his secrets. As they rapidly forge a close friendship, Dean finds that the quiet life by the ocean with Cas is exactly what he's been dreaming of. He only hopes his past never catches up with him.

Notes: This was so gorgeous and the plot was fabulous! Also, I loved Jimmy, and Dean and Cas as parents were adorable. Weirdest use of Cole’s character that I’ve ever seen though.

What Can’t Be Seen by destieldrabblesdaily on AO3. (2,639 words).

Tags: Soulmate AU, author!Cas, Strangers to Lovers, First Kiss.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Written for this prompt: Soulmate AU where you first see color after eye contact: Cas is a famous best selling author and he’s promoting his book, so he’s talking to a crowd of people and suddenly his world is in color, and a lot of his fans pretend to be his soulmate. A Cinderella type situation ensues.

Notes: This was really cute and such a sweet and funny idea.

(un)conventional by imogenbynight on AO3. (6,100 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe, mechanic!Dean, Writer!Castiel, Conventions, Fluff.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Spec Lit Con--Speckly Con, to it’s regular attendees--is an annual weekend-long event held in Chicago, dedicated to science fiction, fantasy and otherwise speculative literature. This year Dean's favorite author, C.J. Novak, is appearing as a panelist. Naturally, he shells out the cash for an all access pass.

Notes: This was so adorable that I nearly screamed in the corridor outside my computer science lesson. Plus, the writing was absolutely gorgeous! I miss conventions :(

I Think That’s Mine by palominopup on AO3. (6,804 words).

Tags: Fluff, AU, Reporter!Dean, Writer!Cas.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: A mix up at the Atlanta Airport places Dean Winchester's laptop in someone else's possession. A series of calls and texts bring two men together.

Notes: This was so cute, Cas was so sweet, and Dean was an icon.

‘Star Wars is Overrated’ by leftdragonpainter on AO3. (38,186 words).

Tags: Soulmates, Pining, Drinking, Writer Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Neighbours, Swearing, Winchester Logic, Clueless Dean, College Student Sam, Awkward Dates, Dean Cooks, Castiel in Glasses, Slow Burn, Injured Sam, Fixing Cars, Smut, Costumes, Drunk Texting, Temporary Amnesia, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: When Dean Winchester turned sixteen he was disappointed by the words that appeared on his chest. He never expected that it would take so much to find his soulmate. He never expected to not remember meeting them...

Tags: Every time I thought I knew what was going to happen in this fic, something completely different happened, which I loved.

Event Horizon by Winglesss on AO3. (6,442 words).

Tags: Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Dean, Depression, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Past Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Texting, Sharing a Bed, Happy Ending, Veteran Dean, Doctor Dean, Writer Castiel, Strangers.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Castiel couldn't have helped his sister. That's why being offered a chance to help somebody else dealing with suicidal thoughts he took it without hesitation. When he gets the first text from someone who needs his help, nothing goes as he expected.

Notes: I don’t know if that kind of suicide prevention scheme exists, but this fic is very sweet.

Darkly Dreaming Dean by Duckyboos on AO3. (29,008 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Alternate Universe - Police, Detective Dean Winchester, Writer Castiel, Serial Killer Dean, Alternate Universe - Dexter, Established Relationship, Murder, Top Dean, Bottom Castiel, Anal Sex, Innocent Castiel.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester has the perfect apple pie life with his shy-but-sweet boyfriend in the suburbs. He has a steady, well-paid job with the LAPD and he’s charming and attractive. Really, he’s living the American Dream. It’s his extra-curricular activities that some may disagree with, as he’s also an accomplished serial killer. To date, his kills amount to around 36 and he’s never been caught. He’s employed by the law, remember? He knows how these things work.

A new serial killer arrives on the scene and despite the sloppiness of their work, Dean is intrigued by them and what they're trying to achieve, because their MO is the same as his; killing bad people. He makes it his mission to track the other killer down before the police do, and he’s left reeling when the 'Basin Vigilante' turns out to be someone a lot closer to home than he could have ever imagined.

Notes: I sort of watched Dexter a few years ago, and I absolutely love the idea of Dean as a vigilante serial killer. I only wish that the synopsis was a bit different, so the end was more of a surprise.

Finding Home by Desirae on AO3. (42,828 words).

Tags: Baker Dean Winchester, Writer Castiel, PTSD, Past Childhood Trauma, Childhood Kidnapping, Mistaken Identity, Dean Whump, Castiel Whump, Best Friends to Lovers, Emotional Sex, Fluff, Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester lived a quiet life running his bakery. Aside from family, Dean had no desire to let anyone inside. The more people you cared about, the more you had to lose; A hard lesson he'd learned at the tender age of eight when Dean’s best friend was kidnapped right before his eyes. Dean was forever haunted by the event, although he hadn’t realized quite how much until Emmanuel James Milton breezed into his life; waking his sleeping heart with a complete lack filter and achingly familiar eyes. An author, with no family and traumatic past of his own, Emmanuel never felt like he belonged anywhere until he walked into The Honeybee Bakery and met Dean. It’s not long before they find out that there is a reason for their profound bond.

Notes: It was obvious what was going on here from the start, but that just made it even cuter as they fell in love again.

I think it is a shame we didn’t get more human Cas content, but I guess it is too late now. I hope you enjoy these fics, and if you ever have a specific list you want me to make, feel free to ask!

#writer cas #castiel #supernatural #ficrecs #fanfics #destiel #dexter #soulmate au

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wonderofasunrise · 4 years

Text

A Land Without Compassion

A/N: I was a bit frustrated at how little the show explored Susan dealing with Mark’s death, as I had expected something more considering how they were each other’s person for a long time. And so this fic was born, with a few elements taken liberally from my headcanon—namely that Susan never left Chicago, and the reason why she couldn’t reciprocate Mark’s feelings was because she fell in love with Kerry.

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Featuring an excerpt from “With Me Stay” by The Corrs.

-----

A melting pot of paint stirred slowly to the boil We had a radar, now it’s gone

This is a cruel, cruel love I stood on the dark side of love This is a cruel, cruel love I stood on the dark side alone

***

Susan Lewis has lived in Chicago almost all her life, but the city has never felt so suffocating as it is tonight.

Sitting on the front porch of her house, she feels as if everything around her was moving closer towards her, ready to strangle her in an instant as she makes yet another effort to comprehend the events of today. She takes a deep breath and exhales before her eyes wander aimlessly around her surroundings and the street in front of her house, and that’s when it slowly begins to come together for her—the fact that the city will never be the same.

The words from Elizabeth’s letter to the ER this morning escaped her, and unsurprisingly it took her a good few hours to fully comprehend the news the letter delivered: Mark is dead. Her best friend is gone, brain tumour having taken him so cruelly and prematurely, and her world will never be the same again.

Her first reaction was to leave the admit desk, and while making her way towards the ambulance bay she half-expected that at least a drop of tear would fall down her face once she was out. But it didn’t, and it hasn’t.

She wants to cry. She wants to grieve properly, as she should upon the death of a beloved friend, to let everything out through her tears instead of holding it all inside until it explodes at the most unfortunate moment. But nothing comes out. She wonders if it’s a sign of denial; after all, it’s the first stage of grief, and having seen deaths firsthand almost everyday for years does not automatically make her immune from it.

She is still unable to cry anyway, and she hates herself for it.

***

Susan never regrets how her life has turned out, as she is at her happiest that she has been in years with the person she loves the most, but at times she does wonder about the what ifs and what could’ve beens all those years ago when Mark declared that he loved her.

She loved him, she told him in response, but it was altogether a different kind of love from what he had for her. She made sure he knew she was in love with someone else, and upon learning who the person was Mark’s first reaction was to ask, “How?” Still, he congratulated her, thanking her for trusting him with the revelation. Despite that he looked so defeated at the time, and she couldn’t help but kiss him. Neither was sure what it was supposed to mean, though it seemed like the right thing to do. It was pleasant enough for her, but there was no way of knowing what it was like for him.

She thinks about the kiss. She was not sure what it meant then, and she still isn’t sure what it means now. One thing for sure, it’s another reminder of what could have happened between the two, and while there is no regret on her part, at times she finds herself wondering how hurt Mark was at the realisation that his love for her was unrequited.

They never talked about it since—partly because of her desire to keep her relationship secret, and partly because he did not want to make things more awkward than they already were. While it did work well for both of them, she starts wondering if he ever needed closure, and if he needed to be convinced more as to why they would never be together.

Did she fail him this way? Did she fail to provide closure when he needed it the most?

Either way, they never talked about it, and they will never have a chance to.

Sure, he eventually found someone else, and she was beyond happy that someone was Elizabeth, but part of her now wonders if he ever suffered because of her rejection, and—if he did—how deeply hurt he was after she kissed him and told him she was in love with someone else. The same woman she is still very much in love with, and the woman who brings her happiness in place of all the what ifs.

***

Kerry Weaver has known Susan Lewis for years, and it is one of the reasons why she gets so frustrated every time she fails to read Susan and find out what to do with her in a difficult time.

Susan has been quiet since they arrived home, and she maintained a considerable distance from Kerry and everyone else at work earlier in the day. While Kerry finds it understandable, given how much Mark meant to Susan and how they were pretty much each other’s person for a long time, it still frustrates her that there is so little she can do to comfort Susan. Much to Kerry’s chagrin, the best thing she can do for now is let Susan keep her distance for as long as she needs while she is figuring out all the hows and whys she has been wondering about since the revelation in Elizabeth’s letter this morning.

In a perfect universe she would allow herself to hold Susan in her arms and let the younger woman cry her heart out instead of letting her figure things out on her own in a world Kerry knows she can never enter. She isn’t even sure if she has seen Susan cry since the news broke out, and the thought of how much pain it must be causing Susan shatters Kerry’s heart. She is so used to knowing the answer to everything, yet she has failed to figure out what to do with Susan at the moment, and the best thing she can do is wait. Wait and stay still, as much as deep down she is dying to do the exact opposite.

How Susan is coming to terms with everything is the main priority now, and Kerry’s desire to provide comfort and assurance—however she intends to do so—will have to wait.

Kerry understands perfectly that if there was one thing that Susan demanded absolute respect from everyone it was her friendship with Mark. It was a relationship built very steadily over many years of working and struggling together, which started long before Kerry came into the picture, and it is something she knows she needs to respect.

And so she does, because that’s how much she loves Susan. She loves her so much it hurts.

***

Another hour passes, and Kerry figures out now is the best time to finally make her way towards Susan outside.

She opens the front door quietly, and as soon as she does so she catches the sight of Susan sitting on a chair on the porch with her head down, her expression unreadable. One thing for sure, Kerry thinks, Susan looks lost. Well and truly lost.

And it frightens Kerry, because of all the things she understands and has learned about Susan over the years, it is not something she knows how to deal with. Without a word, she takes a seat next to Susan, and as soon as she rests her back against the chair Susan turns to her. Contrary to Kerry’s expectation, Susan’s expression shows no sign of surprise whatsoever, as if she had been waiting for Kerry to come to her and was somehow relieved that she finally did.

Thinking that it’s finally safe to do so, as softly as possible Kerry takes Susan’s hand in hers, and silently breathes out a sigh of relief when the latter does not fight. Kerry feels a gentle squeeze, and her eyes fall onto the sight of their entangled hands under the night sky—an act so simple yet so powerful, and one that Kerry never expected to provide her solace when she needs it the most. She hopes it also has the same—or at least a similar—effect on Susan.

A few seconds later Kerry’s profound attention at her hand around Susan’s is disrupted by the sight of teardrops slowly falling onto the hand, and Kerry promptly looks up to see tears welling up in Susan’s eyes. Susan lets out an audible sigh, all of today’s events finally coming together in a fleeting moment of sudden understanding, and she doesn’t even try to stop tears from streaming down her face.

“What happens now?” Susan finally speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. Still, it’s the most Susan has let out all day, and as strange as it may sound Kerry feels a tinge of relief upon hearing that. Whether she can provide an answer, however, is another matter.

A single look at Susan’s eyes nearly breaks Kerry’s heart into pieces once again; she has never seen Susan look so small and broken, and it pains her that there is only so much she can do to make it better. She silently prays that she will be able to do more after this evening, no matter how little more.

Figuring out that a silent gesture works best for the time being, Kerry lets Susan cry onto her shoulder, all the while holding her like she would a child. Tears run freely down Susan’s face as she mourns her best friend in the arms of her lover; while the poignancy of the moment is not completely lost on her, all she wants for now is simply pouring her heart out through her tears, as she had been waiting for hours, and Kerry is the only one who can help her through it.

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Kerry finally breaks her silence by muttering, “I’m sorry,” in an undertone. For the time being, it says everything that she needs to say and Susan needs to hear; anything more that she wants to say can wait.

“Stay with me,” Susan pleads in a tone that makes Kerry’s heart sink even deeper. It is the voice of someone who is not only grieving the death of a loved one, but also trying to come to terms with how her life will change forever after years of building a wonderful relationship with the person in question. Silently Kerry prays that she will never hear that tone from Susan again.

“Always,” Kerry affirms, because it’s the best thing she can promise to the woman she loves more than anyone else.

For the moment, it’s indeed everything that Susan needs to hear, and she wouldn’t ask for anything else.

#m's fanfiction #m's writing stuff #er #nbc er #er fanfiction #susan lewis #kerry weaver #mark greene #kerry x susan #kerry weaver x susan lewis #mark greene x susan lewis (friendship)#a fic born out of frustration #fic: a land without compassion

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yespleasetommyshelby · 5 years

Text

Need you now ~ Jay Halstead

An imagine based on the song ‘Need you now’ by Lady Antebellum - I kind of got lost in this one, it’s a tad long... feel free to send requests :)

‘Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor, reaching for the phone cause I can’t take it anymore...’

Sighing I look down at the broken photo frame on my bedroom floor, six pictures all showing the smiling faces of a couple perfectly in love, not knowing that a few months down the line it’ll just be memories. Jay Halstead, the most kind, thoughtful, loving man I had ever set my eyes on, a detective for Chicago PD, the guy who caught my eye the minute I walked into the little bar my uncle owns. We would have been together a whole year today, if only it hadn’t all gone wrong.

He was working a case involving prostitutes that we’re being sold into human trafficking they caught the guys at the head of the gang he changed that night and he hadn’t been the same since, that was three months ago, and it’s been a month since the night that it all fell down.

“All we ever do is argue Jay! Ever since that case it’s only been arguing!” I yell pointing my finger at Jay as tears slowly made their way down my face.

“You don’t understand y/n! You don’t know the things I saw, things that nobody should ever have to see!” He yelled back his fists balled up at his sides, his eyes sparkling with tears that he’s holding back.

“You’re right Jay, I don’t know what you see in your job, but I do know that you made a promise. You promised that no matter how bad the job got you wouldn’t let it come inbetween us.” I said quietening down to normal speaking volume.

I sighed turning around and walking into his bedroom grabbing my small duffel bag that was under his bed and haphazardly throwing the stuff I had left there into it, furiously wiping away the tears that refused to stop.

“What are you doing?” His pained voice came from behind me. Picking up the bag I turned round slowly only to be met by his bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks. “Please don’t go.” He begged quietly looking down at the ground.

“I’m sorry Jay, but you need to get your head on straight before we can even think about being together.” I said placing my hand on his cheek briefly before walking away to the front door, turning and taking one last look as he stood in the hall watching me. “I love you Jay Halstead, and I always I will.” I whispered quietly but loud enough for him to hear me, opening the door I barely heard his faint whisper before I closed it and walked away.

“Please don’t leave me.”

The sudden ping from my phone recieveing a message brought me out of my reminiscing, looking down I noticed that it was 8:30pm, right around the time Jay would be getting home. Shaking my head I looked at the message to see it was from Adam, one of Jays friends from work, I’d met the whole team and had become pretty close with Adam and Kim.

Adam - Hey, the teams heading over to Molly’s, everyone would love to see you, especially Kim. We’ll see you there y/n.

Sighing I put my phone down, I miss them, of course I do, but I know that he’ll be there and I can’t bring myself to face him. Looking back at my phone I didn’t realise I had another message, this one from Kim.

Kim - Hey, I know Adams already asked but I just wanted you to know that Jay’s a mess, he hasn’t been the same since that day, please talk to him.

Feeling the tears slipping down my cheeks once again I slowly pulled myself up and climbed into bed. I can’t call him, not yet.

‘And I wonder if I ever cross your mind, for me it happens all the time..’

Lying in bed I couldn’t help but to think about the first time I’d met Jay, it was at Molly’s the bar that my uncle owned with two of his fellow firefighters. I had just moved back from New York after finishing my degree, and according to Uncle Chris Molly’s was just the right place for a celebration.

“Hey Matt, who’s that?” I asked noticing a guy sending me a small flirty smile as I sat at the bar with Matt, a man who is just like an uncle along with most of the other guys at the firehouse.

“Who? Oh that’s Jay Halstead, he’s a detective at the 21st.” He answered sharing flirty winks and smiles at Gabby who was serving at the other end of the bar. Yuck.

“The same district as that Voight guy?” I asked knowing that they had some kind of problem a while back.

“Yeah, but thats in the past now, besides, Jay’s a good guy.” He smiled holding his beer up as a greeting as Jay walked over.

“Hey Casey, who’s this?” He asked sending me what was more of a smirk than a smile.

“Jay this is y/n, niece of Herrmann. Y/n this is Jay detective at the 21st, anyway, I’ll be back in a minute.” He introduced distractedly as he stood up from his stool and followed Gabby into the back room. Okay, their seriously like horny teenagers.

“So, it’s nice to meet you y/n niece of Herrmann.” Jay smiled sitting down on what was Matt’s stool, holding his hand out for me to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you too Jay detective at the 21st.” I giggled taking his hand in mine, and as they say, the rest was history.

Wiping away the tears I grab my phone seeing that the time is now 10pm, I’d wasted an hour and a half thinking about Jay, I doubt he even thinks about me anymore. Although that doesn’t make it any easier to not think about him.

‘Another shot of whisky, can’t stop looking at the door... Wishing you’d come sweepin’ in the way you did before...’

*Jay’s POV*

“Hey Gabby, can I get another one?” I slurred slightly as I held up my empty shot glass for her to see.

“Sure you’ve not had enough detective?” She asked with a raised eyebrow as she poured the drink.

“Nope.” I said bluntly before lifting the glass to my mouth, the sour liquid slightly burning my throat.

“Jay man, you gotta slow down.” Adams voice came from beside me as he took a seat on the stool next to me. “I text her, and so did Kim, you know those two are like sisters, she’ll come man.”

“You know, this is the place I met her, it was at yours and Kim’s engagement drinks, she came in with Casey and Severide, she was sat right here, I was over there.” I said pointing over to the table where the rest of intelligence were sat. “She looked me right in the eye and gave me a breath taking smile, I was hooked man.” I said smiling slightly as I looked over at the door remembering that night, hoping she’d walk through any second.

“To Adam and Kim!” We all cheered as we raised our glasses before downing the shots.

Just as I placed my glass back on the table Casey and Severide caught my attention, well not them exactly, but the woman they were with. She was wearing a short black dress with a heart shaped cut out over her chest, her y/h/l y/h/c curled slightly so that it bounced when she walked. I watched as Severide walked away leaving her and Casey sitting at the bar when she caught my eye, she held eye contact for a few seconds before she gave me a small smile, a smile that while I didn’t know it at the time, would be the view I loved to see the most.

“Go talk to her man.” Kevin nudged me in the side slightly obviously noticing the girl that had my attention.

“Nah man, she’s probably with Severide, she came in with him and Casey.” I shrugged slightly feeing disheartened that I may not get to know this girl.

“She’s single you know.” Kim spoke up nodding over to the girl. “She was at the firehouse the other day when Voight sent me over, she someone’s niece I think.” She shrugged going back to her conversation with Adam.

“Go get her man.” Antonio laughed shoving me slightly, taking a breath I walked over and Casey introduced us before he left to go find Gabby, I’ve still got to thank him for introducing me to the best person to come into my life for a long, long time.

“She’ll come man, you just gotta wait.” Adam said patting my shoulder before walking back over to the team.

Nodding my head slightly I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket, 0 messages, 0 calls, and it’s already 10pm, looking down I stared at my home screen for a few seconds, a picture of me and her the night that I asked her to be my girlfriend. I miss her so damn much.

‘It’s a quarter after one, I’m all alone and I need you now... I said I wouldn’t call but I lost all control and I need you now...’

*y/n POV*

My phone pinging next to my head on the pillow woke me up from my not so deep sleep, reaching around in the dark to find it, it takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust before reading the text.

Kim - He’s been sat at the bar since we got here, he’s waiting for you.

There was a picture attached, a picture of Jay sitting at the bar in Molly’s on his own, empty beer bottles in front of him. The picture alone made my heart break, checking the time I saw that it was 1am, picking up my phone I couldn’t help myself but to call Kim, I can’t face talking to him.

“Hello? Y/n?” Kim’s voice came through the speaker, along with laughing and faint music in the background.

“Hey Kim.” I smiled slightly just hearing her voice. “How is he?” I asked quietly.

“He’s bad y/n, he��s refusing to leave because he thinks you’re going to show up like how you did the first time you met or something, I’ve never seen him like this, he needs you.” She spoke sadly, pressing the switch in my head as I pulled myself out of bed and rushed over to my closet.

“Kim, listen, I’m on my way, but please don’t tell him I’m coming, just keep him there and safe, please.” I asked as I pulled out the dress I had worn the night we’d met. “I’ll there in ten.” I said hanging up quickly.

Almost ripping my pyjamas off I pulled my dress on and rushed into the bathroom to apply a bit of foundation and mascara before running a brush through my hair, that’ll have to do. Grabbing my leather jacket I walked out into the cold air, jumping in my car and rushing round to Molly’s.

I need him too.

‘It’s a quarter after one, I’m a little drunk and I need you now... I said I wouldn’t call, but I lost all control and I need you now...’

*Jay’s POV*

“She’s not coming man, let’s get you home.” Adam said as he came back over to the bar, shaking my head I checked the time 1.15am.

“She’ll be here.” I slurred as I nursed my eight beer of the night, not including however many shots I did.

“C’mon, I’ll drop you off-“ “No man, I’m not leaving this bar till she comes, I need her, now.” I raised my voice slightly cutting him off, still slurring as I looked over to the door where people were leaving.

“Alright, alright, we’ll wait with you.” Adam said raising his hands in surrender and walking back over to the rest of the team who were looking at me with worried eyes

Rolling my own I turned back to my phone, 0 calls and 0 messages. She’ll come, she has to. Not being able to help myself I pressed her number and listened to it ring before it went quiet. Voicemail great, maybe she really isn’t coming...

‘And I don’t know how I can do without, I just need you now...’

*Y/n POV*

As I sit in the car staring at the bar over the road I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking, this is it, all I’ve gotta do is walk in there and get him back, easy peasy... right? Shaking my head I opened the door and climbed out before making my way across the street, slowly pushing open the bars doors. As soon as I stepped foot inside I could feel all eyes on me, but mine never left him as he swirled his beer around in its bottle, looking over to the rest of intelligence I couldn’t help but smile slightly at the grins on all of their faces, Adam mouthing a quick ‘thank you’. Slowly I made my way over to Jay and took a seat on the stool besides him.

“Y/n, niece of Herrmann.” I said quietly watching the side of face, seeing how he turned confused before realisation suddenly took over.

“You came.” He whispered as he looked me up and down almost checking I was real. “I didn’t think you would come, I thought you hated me.” He said quietly, a lone tear falling from his eye, breaking the damn I had up, a slow flow of tears falling down my cheeks.

“Of course I came,” I started, wiping the tears from my face with a small laugh. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the day I left. I love you so much Jay Halstead, I just need you to talk to me after a hard case, not keep it bottled up.” I said quietly reaching over and taking his hand in mine.

“I love you so much y/n, and I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make sure you have the best life anyone could ever ask for.” He said standing up and pulling me up with him, wrapping his arms around my waist as mine went around his neck.

“I’ll never let you go again.” He whispered before he placed his lips on mine, moving in perfect sync like we’d never been apart. Slowly moving away the sound of cheering got my attention, the rest of intelligence came over hugging and congratulating us.

“Sorry I’m not staying long, I just came to get him.” I smiled slightly as I looked over at Jay who was already watching me, a big smile on his face causing mine to grow.

“Come on loser, let’s go.” He laughed wrapping his arm around my shoulder pulling me to the exit.

“I will leave your ass here detective.” I joked snuggling into his side as we walked out of Molly’s saying goodbye as we went.

“You’re never leaving again.” He said stopping next to my car looking down at me seriously.

“I know baby, I missed you much.” I smiled sadly a single tear escaping which he wiped away with the pad of his thumb. “I love you Jay Halstead.”

“I love you more than you could ever know y/f/n y/l/n.”

‘Oh baby I need you now...”

#jay halstead imagine #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd #one chicago #adam ruzek imagine #antonio dawson imagine #jay halstead #kevin ruzek #hank voight #jay halstead imagines #chicago pd imagines

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liliah39 · 5 years

Note

Hi darling! I saw you want to write some little fics about the boys, so, could you write a fic with Roger in which he finds the reader talking to other guy and gets jealous? * Jealousy plays in the background *

My Other Half (Roger Taylor X Reader One Shot)

Full Ask/Plot: Hi darling! I saw you want to write some little fics about the boys, so, could you write a fic with Roger in which he finds the reader talking to other guy and gets jealous? * Jealousy plays in the background * I was thinking about Rog and the reader being steady for a while, so he is thinking of proposing to her, but one day he sees her (at a diner or a shop, maybe?) talking to this other guy and gets more than jealous, he feels really bad about it? I guess this is going to turn out a little angsty 😅

Word Count: 7.2 K (its even lengthier than the last!)

Warnings: None really, mentions of sex. Swearing. Some angst. Thats it!

January of 1977, interview with the boys in Chicago while on tour:

“So Roger,” The interviewer asked. “We understand your girlfriend Y/N has been in the news a lot lately. What’s your life and relationship with her like?”

“Well she’s not my girlfriend,” Roger nervously laughed.

“She’s not?”

“Well if I may interject,” Freddie said. “She basically is his girlfriend, they’re just an odd bunch who says “oh we’re not dating, she’s not my girlfriend, we’re just in a relationship.”

“Fred,” Roger blushed, scratching the back of his neck.

“I must say he’s quite in love with her. They’re really the perfect couple.” John said.

“Yeah we love Y/N,” Brian started. “The two of them are pretty much inseparable. They’re a package deal, you can’t have Roger without her. I’m not quite sure why they don’t ever say they’re dating. Maybe it’s because they’ve been friends for so long? They’re great though.”

The interviewer laughed. “So, Roger. What is Y/N like?”

He smiled when he thought of you. “She’s the definition of the word rock star other than the whole being in a band thing. Plays guitar sometimes though.” It was visible to anyone watching him that his head was in the clouds. “We’ve been best friends since college, and then our relationship kind of just blossomed from there. You know; people always say opposites attract but-” Freddie cut him off.

“Oh not with them, Darling! I swear they’re the same person sometimes.”

Roger laughed at his friends comment. “Yeah, that’s what I was getting at. I mean we just always have fun together. Of course we have our quiet moments too, but we just really get each other; rarely fight. Always have a good time.”

“She’s the most wanted model in England right now, let alone the whole world. How does that make you feel?”

Roger smirked. “Well she ‘ain’t a model yet, mate.”

“Yeah, but I mean you two did that photo shoot together, and then all of a sudden everyone knew her name. Why hasn’t she taken any of those modeling deals?”

“Oh I don’t know, but she has an interview back home in a couple days. I don’t want to speak for her or anything, you know. I’ll let her say.”

“Then what made you do that photo shoot?”

Roger laughed. “Well I think any guy can understand where I’m coming from there, mate. If you’re a rock star and you’ve gotta do a solo photo shoot for your new song, (which I didn’t want to do, may I add) and you’ve got a hot significant other, you have her do the shoot with you. Plain and simple.” Everyone laughed at his blatantly honest statement, and the interviewer continued asking the rest of the band questions.

After the interview, the guys were in their shared dressing room, Roger fixing his hair at the mirror and Freddie and Brian gushing over pictures of John’s baby who just learned to walk.

“Guys,” Roger started with a clear of his throat.

They all turned up to look at him; it was obvious he was stressed about something. “Well you all know, uh. Y/N left to go back home the other day, and tonight is our second to last show in the states, and in like five days we go home, and do one more show in London to end our this tour, you know?” He was clearly sweating, scratching the back of his neck as he talked around what he was trying to get at.

Deaky nodded confused, Freddie said “Yup?”

“We know our schedule, Rog. What’re you trying to say?” Brian encouraged.

“If it makes you feel any better, I miss Veronica too, even though you saw Y/N two days ago and I haven’t seen my wife or children for four months, but yeah, I get it.” Deaky added.

“No, no. I um, uh-” Roger could barely form words. He covered his smile with his mouth as he looked down blushing. Unable to get out what he was trying to say, he unzipped the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a small black box. “I’m gonna do it.” He laughed, opening it to reveal a huge pear shaped engagement ring. “I’m gonna ask her to marry me!” He smiled, his friends congratulating him with a huge hug.

“Wow, you really went all in for that ring, didn’t you, Rog?” Brian asked.

“Yeah, bought it on Rodeo Drive when we were in California at Cartier. You know how she is, the bigger the better. Had to impress my girl.” he gushed.

“Well I’m so happy for you, Rog. She’ll definitely say yes. I see the way she looks at you.” John added.

“Of course she will!” Freddie exclaimed. “Though I must say; I expected Brian to be the next to get married. Honestly thought you’d be the last. You just have that free attitude. I mean, you’re only 27, Darling.”

“I know, I know. I thought the same thing. But I’m just so happy. I never want to lose her. I know we’re young. We’re both free spirits, but together we ground each other. It’s just one of those things that works, you know?”

“When you know you know.”

On the way back to the hotel room Roger couldn’t stop smiling, his years with you replaying in his head, going all the way back to the day you two met.

~~~~

It was an intro to dentistry class, only the second day of freshman year, and all the seats were filled in the lecture hall except for the one next to Roger. He knew everyone had been there the day before, so tried to figure out who was missing. Suddenly, you burst into class clad in your rock star aesthetic, popping your bubblegum ever so confidently, as you said, “Sorry I’m late,” to the professor.

“You know, Miss...” He started.

“Y/L/N”

“Miss Y/L/N, if you were here maybe you’d know that chewing gum isn’t good for your teeth.”

“Well Professor,” you started, noticing the teacup on his desk as you walked to the only open seat near the back. “Neither is tea; it stains them. Yet we all drink it anyways.” You smirked, plopping in the only free seat next to the wide eyed blonde boy. You relaxed back in your chair and put your feet up on the chair in front of you, red heels popping out of your black leather pants which you paired with a black leather jacket, some layered necklaces and a Led Zeppelin shirt.

Roger was absolutely smitten. He loved your attitude. Finally, he thought, someone to rival him. Someone equal to his level of strong headed-ness. Then he noticed what you were wearing. He almost wore the same bloody thing. He had on his black leather trousers, red converse, a Led Zeppelin shirt (thank god it wasn’t the same one you had on), his gold layered necklaces and black leather jacket. You were missing the sunglasses though. Was he looking at an alternate version of himself?

“Hello, Love. I’m Roger.” He smirked.

“Hi,” you smirked back, noticing how attractive he was. “I’m Y/N”

“Not gonna compliment my outfit?”

“Huh?” You asked, confused.

“Look at your outfit, Love. Now look at mine. See any coincidence?”

“Oh!” You laughed. “God, what’re the odds.”

It was silent for a couple minutes until you let out a groan of exhaustion. “I don’t want to be here, my parents are making me go to school to be a bloody dentist. I just want to go home and get ready for tonight.”

“Same thing is going through my mind, Love. I’ve got a gig tonight.”

“Oh really? I love music. What do you play?”

“Drums and sing a bit too.” He proudly smiled.

“That’s great. Wish I played something.”

“I can teach you,” he encouraged.

“I think I’d like that very much.” You smiled. “Where are playing later?”

“Imperial hall. You-“

You cut him off. “Really? You must be joking. You’re in Smile?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s why I was saying I wanted to go get ready for tonight! I’m going to your gig!”

“What are the odds?” He mimicked, making you giggle. “Hey, I’ll make sure you get a front row seat. Really, I mean it. I know how crazy those can get.”

“Thanks.” You smiled as he put a strand of hair behind your ear.

After class he called, “Hey, Y/N! I can't help but want to get to know you better. Do you want to go grab a coffee or something?”

“I’d love to, but I’ve gotta say I’m more of a whiskey girl than I am coffee.”

God, she’s perfect. He thought.

“Then the bar down the street it is.” Roger smiled.

Your relationship didn’t turn romantic after that for a couple years, you and Roger were just the inseparable friends who spent at least two hours together every day, and everyone thought were twins because of how similar you were. You always flirted and held hands, but kept it platonic until about a year after Queen had formed.

You and Roger were living together as friends, and one night after a Queen gig got wasted playing truth or dare with Freddie and the rest of the band. You had on a tight, revealing red dress. Knowing you could never pass up the riskiest of questions, Freddie said,

“Alright. We’ve been playing classic truth or dare for a while now. It’s time to spice it up. Who here is brave enough to do a truth and a dare that are connected at the same time?”

“Me! I’ll do it!” You burst up, making the four of them laugh.

“Alright, Darling. I was hoping you’d chose to participate.” Freddie was trying to get you and Roger together. “Of the four of us, choose who you like the most and want to be in a relationship with the most, straddle them and make out with them for a full minute, and then tell us the truth of why you chose them.”

“Deal.” You rose from your chair, gaze shifting between the four of them. You knew you’d choose Roger; had been in love with him for a while, but things had been going so well between the two of you for so long as friends you considered choosing Freddie just to make everyone laugh and not mess up anything between you and Roger.

But you couldn’t do it.

You turned to your left, locking eyes with your roommate as you straddled him, smirk on his face as your arms went around his neck, his hands reaching to your hair as your lips connected. The kiss was drunkenly passionate, the other three cheering the two of you on and counting to sixty as Roger’s hands roamed your back, your hands now tangled in his hair. You opened your mouth, his tongue immediately slipping in.

“58!”

“59!”

“60!” They cheered as the two of you breathlessly broke away.

“You chose me?” Roger questioned, astonished.

“ ‘Course I chose you.” You smiled, turning around on his lap to face the other three, his arms still tightly wrapped around your stomach.

“So,” Freddie smiled. “Why our Roggie boy?”

“God this is so embarrassing.” You blushed.

“Get on with it!” Deaky slurred.

“Firstly, you’re just as good if not a better kisser than I imagined,” you confessed, everyone laughing. “But I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you, Rog. I’ve just never been able to tell you. So scared I’ll mess everything up. I mean, you’re my best friend, and my roommate. I could really screw up my whole life if you didn’t feel the same way. Do you know how hard it is to confess you’re in love with your best friend and have been for the last four years?”

“Yeah, I actually do.” Roger laughed, making you flick your head at him in shock. “Wait,” he said in realization, the alcohol impairing his thinking. “You’re in love with me too?”

You nodded, smiling.

“So we could’ve been together all this time, but we were too scared to mess anything up?” He said in disbelief. “God I’m such an idiot!”

“But you know now,” you teased. “And besides, relationships are better with an established friendship.”

He sat there silenced for a couple moments, trying to process what had just happened. You and the other three couldn’t stop laughing at his thought process that was visually represented on his face.

First he was shocked, then happy, excited, confused, angry, annoyed, shocked again, and then it just kept going in that order until he had a look of realization, standing up as he grabbed your hand. “We, um, we gotta go home. Kay bye!” He said, rushing out with you in tow, leaving you and the boys laughing like crazy.

That night was a passionate night as soon as you had stepped through the door. The two of you had sex at least three times, maybe even more. After that day, you never really slept in your bedroom anymore. You gradually moved your things in with Roger, turning it into a spare room as your relationship blossomed. You never really had publicly described your relationship status, which was fine. To any outsider you were dating, and that’s fine because you essentially were, but really, the two of you were madly in love, and really that’s all that mattered.

~~~~

Back in England, you just finished getting dressed, ready to walk onto the set of Good Morning Britain in a half hour. You were nervous; knew criticism was bound to come from your outfit, but it also gave you an adrenaline rush. You always liked some excitement. Your hair and makeup were styled impeccably, and you wore a pair of tightly fitted black jeans which were slightly frayed at the bottom and stopped at your ankles to show off your new sparkly heels. You paired the whole ensemble with a leather jacket; one that you found in Roger’s closet back at home, and that was it. No shirt, no necklace. Nothing. Just an open leather jacket to drive the modeling agencies crazy with your cleavage - but tastefully. Of course it was taped down with double sided tape, but one wrong move and you’d flash everyone.

To calm your nerves, you decided to call Roger’s hotel room even though it was two in the morning back in the states.

“Hello?” He tiredly said, half awake. His groggy voice put an immediate smile to your face. Roger was always so adorable when he had just woken up. Took him a bit to come to his senses sometimes. He always said the funniest things.

“Hi, Baby.” You cooed.

“Y/N?” He asked, clearly still kind of confused.

“Yeah it’s me, Rog.” You giggled.

“Do I need to come pick you up now?” He slurred.

“What?”

“What?” He tiredly echoed, making you laugh.

“Roger wake up, it's me, Y/N.”

“Oh, oh. Sorry, sorry. I’m here now.”

You laughed. “What was that all about?”

“What was what about?” He said completely awake now.

“You saying you had to come pick me up?”

“Oh, yeah. Think I had a dream where you were at a bar or something and didn’t want to leave and I had to go back and get you. Gimme a break, Love. It’s two in the morning here, you know.” He teased.

“I know,” you smiled. “I just wanted to hear your voice. Miss you.”

“Well I miss you too, my Love. It isn’t just a saying. The bed really is much colder without you.”

His comment made you laugh. “You think that’s bad, try our bed back at home. It’s bloody awful.”

“You know,” he yawned, “you’re usually pretty good about calling at a decent time for us both. Why are you calling so early?”

“Nerves. I’ve got my interview in a half hour.”

“You’re the most headstrong person I know beside myself. You’ll be fine.”

“I know, but I never really do interviews. Just say a word or two when someone shoves a camera in your face. Never had one where I’m the Roger.”

“The Roger?” He laughed.

“You know, the famous person.”

“Ohh, righttt.” He smiled at your adorable comment. “Just keep your head together, be the personable girl you always are. Be the Y/N I know and you’ll be fine.”

“What about the questions?”

“Just answer the ones you want to, but answer them truthfully. You’re usually blatantly honest, so if you don’t like a question just tell ‘em. Or you can just dodge it. Both work equally as well. Being honest will show people your personality the best.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “And what if they ask about my modeling career?”

“Like I said, be honest. Tell ‘em you’re not a model. Tell ‘em about us, how the photo shoot came about. All that.”

“And if they ask if I have a manager?”

“You don’t.”

“But-”

“Y/N,” he cut you off, “you don’t even work or have a job. I pay all the bills, which I’m completely fine with and don’t want to stop doing. I love providing for you. But like I said, don’t lie to say what they want to hear or they’ll just prove you wrong.”

“Can I say you’re my manager?”

“Sure,” he chuckled, “Roger Taylor the best friend, manager, and uh,” he was unsure what you considered him in your eyes.

“Boyfriend?”

“You consider me your boyfriend?” He asked, shocked.

“Yeah,” You laughed, “you basically are anyways.”

“Alright, I like the sound of that. Roger Taylor the boyfriend. So what’s your outfit look like? Sure you’re all dolled up per usual.”

“Oh, um,” for some reason you were nervous to tell him. Your outfit was something that's usually a bedroom thing between the two of you. You didn’t need his added comments to your nervousness right now. “Black. All black.”

“Ooh,” he cooed. “You know how much I love you in black. Take a picture for me.” He imagined your in a tight, straight fitting, lace, black dress.

“Of course.” Although it’ll probably end up on the news in America later if I get the shock factor I’m looking for, you thought. “I’ve got those new sparkly heels on you got for me too.”

“I’m sure you look gorgeous.” He yawned. “Alright, Love, I had a show tonight and I have another and some traveling tomorrow. I’m exhausted and really need some rest. You’re gonna do great.” He smiled.

“Thanks.” You smiled back. Though neither of you could see, you could hear the smile in each other’s voices.

“Goodnight, Baby.”

“Goodnight Rog, sweet dreams, Love.”

Just as you hung up you heard, “Miss Y/L/N! Five minutes!”

~~~~~~

The woman sitting across from you shook your hand as you sat down, eyes slightly widening from the shock factor of your outfit.

“So good to have you here with us this morning, Y/N.” She smiled.

“So good to be here,” you smiled. “I’ve always wanted to be on the morning show ever since I was a little girl.”

“So the last couple weeks have been crazy for you, haven’t they?”

“Oh yeah, total change in my life.” You laughed. “I mean, I was kind of used to the cameras from Roger, but it was never like it is now. I mean they’re everywhere. Everyone has a question, I’m on covers of magazines. It really makes you want to look your best all the time when people are constantly taking photos of you and publishing them.”

“And the calls?”

“Oh yeah, that too,” you continued, kicking yourself in the head for not adding that in. “Course that has been crazy too. The phone’s literally off the hook. I just got back from tour with Queen in America a couple days ago to come here today, so I mean of course I was getting some while I was there, but I assume it was harder for the agencies to locate me then. Now that I’m back home it’s just non stop modeling agency after modeling agency ringing me up, one offering me more money than the last, all trying to get me to sign a deal.”

“And you haven’t accepted one yet,” the interviewer, said perplexed. “Do you realize you’re being called the most beautiful girl in England? Some sources even say most beautiful girl in the world. Why haven’t you taken this opportunity?”

“Oh I don’t really know,” you laughed. “The game of continuously turning them down is kind of fun to me, I must admit. But really, I’m happy with the way everything is. I mean being a model is every little girl's dream, but I’ve never been looking to make a career out of it. I don’t need it. Roger and I are happy just the way everything is. We don’t need anymore money. If the right one comes along, then sure, maybe I’m interested. But really it just was never part of my plan.”

“Can you explain how this craze to get you to sign a modeling contract came about?”

“Sure,” you laughed. “Sorry, it still sounds so funny to me. Well, Roger has a solo album coming out soon, and he had to do some promotional pictures.”

“For those who don’t know, could you say who Roger is to you?”

“Of course,” you smiled. “well I’m in a relationship with Roger Taylor, the drummer of Queen. We’ve been together for a while now, and have been best friends even longer. Can’t imagine my life without him.” You gushed, earning an “awe” from the studio audience. “Anyways, he’s coming out with his first solo album soon and had to do some promotional photos, which he hates doing, so he asked if I’d go along with it, so I did, and then it just kind of expanded from there. We went all out.”

“I’d say you did,” the interviewer smiled, holding up some photos of you and Roger in the photo shoot, (I imagine Kylie Jenner and Travis Scott’s GQ photoshoot) earning hoots and hollers from the audience. “What made you choose the outfit you’re wearing today?”

“Well that’s a rude question.” You retorted.

“I-I’m sorry.” The interviewer stumbled. “I like your outfit, I was just wondering how you chose it.”

“Oh, well, wanted to show a little more. I mean you are all referring to me as a model after all; might as well dress like it. And besides this is Roger’s jacket.” You said, tugging lightly on the collar.

And then you felt it. The release of the tightness on the skin of your breasts, the double sided tape breaking loose from your breasts from the change in pressure from your slight pulls.

And then it happened. The right side of the jacked flew open a little bit.

And you noticed.

The interviewer noticed; you saw it on her face.

The crowd noticed; you heard it from the gasp.

And the camera caught it.

The camera caught you flashing all of Britain on live television.

Hey, you thought in a state of panic, at least it was the good side.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Knock, knock, knock.

Roger groggily awoke from his sleep checking the clock.

3:30 AM.

Only an hour and a half after you had called him.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Roger, darling. You’ve got to turn on the news. It’s Freddie, Brian, and John.” He said giddily. He was excited about something.

Roger stumbled out of bed, unlocking the door and flopping back onto his pillow as Freddie grabbed the remote, hurriedly putting on the news.

“Look, Rog!” Freddie encouraged.

And then he heard it.

“Roger Taylor’s girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N flashes all of Britain, and now the world on her interview with Good Morning Britain.”

Roger shot straight up, watching it again and again. It was being blown out of proportion, yet at the same time was extremely noticeable. It made him turned on while also making him extremely jealous.

The whole world just got to see something that was only supposed to be his.

~~~~

You cried to Roger on the phone after his concert that night. How embarrassed you felt. How sorry you were.

He did his best to calm you down, almost blowing up at one point, but he kept his emotions in control. Decided he couldn’t start a fight with you if he was going to propose soon.

It was just the idea that the whole world saw something that he considered his, saw a part of you nude made him upset.

It made him jealous.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Weeks Later:

Roger had been home for a week, and you were feeling on top of the world. It was nice to not have to worry about traveling for a little bit, about where he was and if he made it there safely. It was nice to feel like a normal couple that lived together for a little bit.

The media had been ruthless. You took it hard at first, all the media calling you a slut, a whore. Saying Roger had been dating a prostitute and that the two of you tried to cover it up. You stayed in bed for a couple of days. Didn’t want to leave the house, turn on the TV, or look at the newspaper without Roger. You didn’t answer the phone to anyone. Only called Roger once a day. When he came home he found you in bed looking like a complete mess. Dark eyes, only wearing one of his sweatshirts. Glasses of water around the room, an empty bag of chips on the end table. The lights were dimmed and there was a box of tissues on your chest. He didn’t say anything when he saw you, and he didn't have to. He just held you in his arms as you cried.

It was all over soon enough though. As Freddie assured you, any media is good media. It brought attention to your name. Soon enough, your were out of your funk and getting free things from big designers in the mail. It all ended up alright.

Roger told you he had to run out and do a couple errands, and to be ready for dinner at six. He said he had some surprises coming throughout the day, so to be prepared. Little did you know he was planning on proposing that night. You awoke to his absence, still in your lingerie from the night before to a new, versace, fluffy bathrobe with a note on the hanger hanging from the bedpost across from you. It read:

“Love you more, xoxo, Roger.”

You smiled as you put it on, hearing the doorbell ring and starting the trek through your mansion to the front door.

“Oh my god, he didn’t.” You said to yourself as you stepped out of the master bedroom. There were photos covering the floor everywhere. Photos of the two of you. You picked one up. It was of a day you and Roger went on a hike back in college. It brought a smile to your face as you stuffed it in the pocket of your robe. You walked a little further, looking over the banister into the living room and foyer and down the stairs. At your feet was a photo you took of him when you went skiing last winter. Everywhere was covered with photos of the two of you. There were repeats, but it didn’t matter. Of course there’d be some repeats, he had a lot of floor space to cover. The pictures on the stairs made you smile the most, or instead just picture, singular. The stairs were covered in Roger’s favorite picture of you, a photo of you upside down, playing Tenement Funster on the guitar, which he had taught you because he thought it was the easiest to play. He took copies of that picture everywhere. Kept one in his pocket, one in his wallet, one taped on the side of his drum. One stuck in the mirror in your bedroom, one framed in the living room downstairs, one framed in his music room. It was everywhere. He said he never wanted to forget it. There was a poster board taped to the wall to the side of the stairs with “The love of my life, Y/N” and an arrow down written on it in sharpie, which made you giggle. Little by little, you picked up your favorite pictures, some of which you didn’t know existed, and put them in the pocket of your robe.

You made your way to the front door, unlocking it to find a huge bouquet of roses. There were easily six dozen roses, maybe even more. God, he was extravagant. But it made you smile. The card on top read, “Love you most, xoxo, Roger”.

Man, he really knew how to make a girl swoon. Around one, someone came with a dress bag. “Miss Y/L/N?” They asked as you opened the door.

“Yes?”

“I’m with Versace. Mr. Taylor designed this dress for you.”

“Oh!” You said, clearly shocked. “Thank you,” You smiled, taking the bag and tipping the man. You hurried upstairs, careful to not trip on all the photos, and hung the dress in your walk in closet, eagerly unzipping the bag.

It took your breath away.

There was a strapless, scoop necked satin, floor length, white dress. It had a high slit on the left side with a black stripe. It was gorgeous. It came with a matching black handbag and strappy black heels. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

“Wear this to dinner tonight, there will be people coming to do your hair, makeup and nails at four, I’m coming home around 5:30. Love you to the moon and back, xoxo, Roger.” Read a note that fell out of the shoe box. You went downstairs to eat lunch, gathering some more photos of you and Roger as you walked past them.

By four you were in your dress, literally feeling dressed to the nines, the stylists setting up camp in a spare room upstairs so Roger wouldn’t see you until you got ready. You heard him come home at 5:30, just like he said. He sounded so excited as he talked to you through the door, telling him you were almost done as he retired to the master bedroom to get on his tux, praying that everything went well tonight.

The stylists left around 5:50 leaving you with long, wavy curls, a beautiful, glammed up makeup look, and a white and black French manicure. Roger was waiting for you downstairs, pacing back and forth from his nerves.

“You ready down there?” You called.

“ ‘Course! Been dying to see you all day.” He smiled.”

“Okay then,” you said, opening the door to walk down to him, his head flicking up as you appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Wow.” He said, breath taken away from him.

You lowly made your way down, careful not to slip on any photos as he picked you up off the last step, spinning you around as he kissed your cheek.

“You look gorgeous. Just like I imagined this dress would look.” He gushed.

“So you really did design it?”

“Yup.”

“Wow.” You didn’t know what to say. “Not that I want you to stop, but why all the gifts today?” You smiled, caressing his cheek.

“You’ll find out later.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple as he grabbed your hand, leading you out the front door to his car. “Hey, has anyone ever told you that you should be a model?” He joked.

“Oh shut up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He brought you to the Cordón Bleu, the most expensive restaurant in London. As he pulled up, he said, “You go inside, Love. I’m going to park the car. I’ll be in in a minute.” The two of your separated with a quick kiss as you strutted inside, cameras flashing in your face.

When you walked in, the receptionist at the front desk called your name, shocking you. “Y/N?”

“Oh my god, Mark?!” You ran over to him, embracing him in a hug. You and Mark hooked up a couple times in college when you and Roger were still just friends.

“Hi! You look amazing!”

“Oh, thank you! So do you! How’s life?”

“It’s alright,” he laughed. “You seem to have made out much better than I did.”

“Well, Roger made out well. I just happened to be his girlfriend.” You laughed.

“Yeah. Believe me, I know about that.” He laughed. Just then Roger walked in. “But everything they’ve been saying is true. You’re really the most beautiful girl in England.”

Roger heard what he said. Saw who it was. Mark. His blood boiled in his veins, fist wrapping tightly around the ring box.

“Thank you,” you blushed, as Roger’s arm snaked its way around your waist.

“Oh, Darling look! It’s Mark!” You smiled.

“Hey.” Roger stated, monotone, as he stuck out his hand to shake Mark’s.

“Hey, mate! Great to see you again. You music with Queen is some of my favorites. Always gush about how I went to college with you two! Anyways, Y/N. I saw your interview the other day, for your first interview you did great. I was very interested.” He smiled. He didn’t mean it maliciously at all, however Roger took it the wrong way.

“Thank yo-” You started, but Roger cut you off.

“Hey, Mark, was it? I’d really prefer it if you didn’t talk about my girlfriend’s tits in front of me. Or actually, how about you just don't talk about them at all?” He snapped, catching you and Mark off guard.

“I-I wasn’t.” Mark stuttered.

“What has gotten into you?!” You whispered in Roger’s ear as he grabbed your hand protectively as he approached the host table which Mark stood behind.

“If you don’t mind, mate, I’d like to be seated now.” Roger coldly insisted.

“Of course, you had the private room upstairs rented out, right?”

Roger nodded.

“Alright then, this way.” Mark said, clearly uncomfortable.

“Actually,” Roger interjected, “would you mind if she brought us to our seats? I don’t need someone from my past ruining this day for me.” He said, coldly snapping at Mark.

Mark looked at him, confused to say the least. Your expression matched his, astonished that Roger could be so rude.

“Excuse me, Ann. Mr. Taylor would like you to bring him and Ms. Y/L/N to their room.” he said.

“Sure, right this way.” She smiled, leading the two of you to the stairs.

Roger’s grip on your hand was tight. You followed the hostess first as he trailed behind you, leaving one last dig as he said, “Oh, and Mark. Make sure you’re not our waiter.”

You gasped back at him in disbelief.

The room was gorgeous, there were roses everywhere, a table lit by candlelight waiting for the two of you in the center. Roger pulled out your seat for you, sitting across from you as he looked down in concentration.

Avoiding looking at you.

He tapped his fingers on the menu to keep himself occupied, his nostrils flaring in anger. The silence in the room was deafening; you could literally cut the tension with a knife.

“Roger,” you tentatively started, “Darling, I think you might be confused. That was Mark, remember? Remember how we used to all hang out in college?”

“I remember hearing you scream his name on the other side of the wall as he fucked you to sleep each night for a couple months.” He snapped back, eyes locking with yours.

“Okay, what is your problem? We never fight like this, we tell each other everything!” You exclaimed.

“You want to know my problem, Y/N? Tonight was supposed to be perfect, but that asshole just went and ruined it. Showed me we’re not actually exclusive.”

“What’re you talking about? Roger we’ve been exclusive for the last three years!”

“I knew I should have properly asked you out so you knew we were in a relationship. Then other guys wouldn’t think you’d just fuck them behind my back.”

“Roger! How dare you? I’d never cheat on you! We’ve lived together for eight years. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Obviously not; I saw the way he was flirting with you.” He whined.

“So what if he was flirting with me? I wasn’t flirting with him! That’s what’s important! And I wouldn’t flirt with him, or anyone else for that matter, Roger, because I’m in love with you. Besides, if I’m going to be a model, you’ve got to get used to people hitting on me, and be confident that I love you and only you. What more do I need to say?” You said, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

“Really?”

“Yes!” You sighed. It was silent for a moment as the waitress came in to pour your champagne and take your orders, then silent for a little while longer. He broke the silence.”

“I’m sorry, Love.” He finally muttered.

You looked up at him, awaiting more of an apology as two salads were placed in front of the two of you.

“I don’t know what came over me,” he continued, “I had such a perfect idea of today in my mind with the photos, and the flowers, and the dress, and dinner, and then, well you know, but then I saw him. Saw the way he looked at you, remembered how he made you feel all those years ago, and I just couldn’t handle it. I’d never been more jealous in my life. I don’t ever want to live without you.”

“Rog,” you smiled, reaching across to grab his hand. “I don’t ever want to live without you either. You don’t have to worry, Baby. I’m not going anywhere.” You finally had brought a smile to his face. “So what if there was a little hiccup in your perfect day? There’s been so much good, it doesn’t even matter.” You smiled.

“Yeah,” he agreed, leaning across to peck your lips, deciding to wait until the end of the meal to pop the question.

“And besides, the sex with you has always been much better.” You winked.

~~~~

Your meal was great, honestly the best food you’d ever had. Roger’s mood improved drastically as the night went on, the two of you joking and laughing per usual. At the end of your romantic dinner you were sharing a huge piece of six layer chocolate cake, Roger putting Fred Astaire’s version of The Way You Look Tonight on the record player in the corner of the room. Roger kept taking photos of you with his Polaroid camera, made you laugh by saying you could add them to the floor when you got home. You could tell he was nervous about something, kept stuttering on about every word he said, sweat dripping from his forehead.

“Okay,” he whispered, blowing out a huff of air and catching your attention. “So I’m sure you’ve realized this isn’t your normal date, right? I mean I think I’ve managed to go a little more “all out” than I usually do, right?”

“Yes, Roger.” You laughed. “Look around us. Look at my dress, my makeup, my nails. You’ve certainly set the standard for the best date ever.”

“Good, good.” He looked down, nodding to arrange his thoughts. “Okay,” he said, getting up and grabbing your hands as he pulled you up, walking to the window to overlook the city skyline. “Y/N. I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you, that first day back at uni. You’re the only girl I’ve ever been nervous to ask out and, hey, I guess I never did.” He said, making the two of you laugh.

“What’re you doing?” You said, choked up as you knew what was coming next.

“But I never had to ask you out, Love. That’s what makes things so great between us. We just work. But I don’t want it to be like that for the next big milestone in our relationship, that’s why I’m doing what I am now, because I want everything to be perfect. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on inside and out, and I can’t imagine spending any day not waking up next to you and I don’t want to. You’re my other half, Love, you complete me better than anyone else ever has and I’m never going to let anything change that. I’m so happy at where we are now and I’m ready to start a life with you start a family with you, Y/N. I know we’re young but that doesn’t change the way I feel for you. So, Darling,” he started, getting down on one knee as you gasped. “Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, please baby, please do me the honor of making me the happiest man in the world, by being my wife. Y/N,” he said, taking a box out of his pocket and opening it in front of you. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh my god.” You gasped, tears openly flowing down both of your faces. He looked nervous, unsure of what your face meant. “Yes, yes, a million times yes!” You screamed, as he scooped you up in his arms, spinning you around as your lips connected passionately.

“Oh my god,” you continued, smile never leaving your face. You were shaking from shock and excitement. “It all makes sense now,” you laughed. “Why you got so jealous. It doesn’t matter. I love you so much.” You smiled, connecting your lips to his.

“You gonna put it on? Spent a lot of money on it, it’s the least you could do.” He joked.

“Of course.” You smiled. “Wait, my hands are too shaky I don’t wanna drop it, can you?” You asked, making him laugh as he took the ring out of the box.

“Sure, Love. You’re too cute.” He chuckled. “And look, there’s our initials on the inside of the ring.”

That just made you cry of joy even more as he slipped the ring on your finger, the two of you a crying, smiling, laughing, kissing mess.

Roger paid the bill and the two of you walked out laughing together, hand in hand. He scooped you in his arms bridal style as you stepped out of the building, cameras immediately in your face, photographers screaming,

“Y/N!”

“Roger!”

“Mr. Taylor, what’s the occasion!”

He set you down as you walked to Vogue, the biggest editorial that was there.

“You wanna know what’s going on?” You asked, silencing the crowd and chorus of questions along with it.

“We’re getting married!” You said, shooting your hand out as countless cameras were snapped, the photographers taking your “engagement photos” all of which actually came out well. You were mailed the prints a week or so later.

“Thank you!” They shouted after the two of you.

“Thank you, Miss. Y/L/N!”

“Hey!” You turned around, looking at Roger as he read your mind, knowing what you were about to say so he just said it for you.

“You can start calling her Mrs. Taylor.” The two of you smiled, Roger scooping you up to bring home his fiancée.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I’m also so proud of this one! As always, send an ask of a plot and I’ll write you a oneshot, and let me know what you think of this one!

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oforamuse · 5 years

Text

say it (spit it out)

‘you guys shouldn’t have worked out- nothing about the two of you make any fuckin’ sense and yet...it always comes back to you two.’

or, the one where mickey finally calls mandy and tells her about the wedding.

set somewhere between 10x11 and 10x12

read and comment on ao3

Mickey sighs and stares at the scribbled numbers on the crumpled receipt in his hand. It's been sitting in the back of his wallet, untouched, for months.

His breath hitches, and he figures it’s finally time.

He dials the number hesitantly, his fingers trembling slightly with every touch to the screen. He didn’t think he’d find this so scary, which considering the amount of times he’s been at the receiving end of a gun, is bizarre to think about.

He gulps. He brings the phone up against his ear and leans back against the Gallagher’s kitchen counter. It’s a blissfully peaceful morning in the usually busy and somewhat manic Gallagher house, everyone else seems to be out - not that he’s keeping track of people’s schedules, he just lucked out. Ian’s at a meeting with his P.O, it was almost impossible to get him out of the house this morning - neither man wanting to move from their cuddled position in the middle of the bed. It had taken his alarm going off six times before Mickey had practically pushed him off the mattress and onto the floor, claiming he would pre-emptively divorce him if he doesn’t shut that fuckin’ thing up, already (there was a promise of a blowjob later, though.).

The call clicks through. There’s a rustle of noise and Mickey’s breath catches in his throat.

‘Mandy.’ Mickey says, it comes out gruff and low. They haven’t spoken to each other in years - he hasn’t even seen her since one of the first months the first time he was locked up. She didn’t try and reach him in Mexico, heck, he doesn’t even know which state she’s in. It’s been years since Ian saw her too, he claims. There’s a gulp on the other end.

‘You’re out.’ She states simply, skipping pointedly over the sentimentalities of two siblings that haven’t spoken nor seen each other in years. He could’ve probably expected it years ago, back when they were kids, but over the years they fell apart, no longer giving each other the support they probably should’ve. Her voice is held and tight, there’s an edge to it he can’t quite place, it’s unnerving.

He wonders what she looks like now, somewhat wracking his brain trying to place how much he remembers when he last saw her. He looks down at his left hand gripping the side of the sink, his engagement ring glinting in the light. It’s a stark contrast between the angry dark ink on his knuckles, the constant reminder of his roots and where he was grown from. The dark and hollow family tree he’ll never fully be able to escape from, no matter how much he’s tried. No matter how much either of them have tried. Being a Milkovich will always be there, following him closely behind like a shadow he can’t quite shake.

The silver band on his finger suddenly feels very heavy. The type of heavy that sits in your stomach warmly, grounding you to the floor. Mickey’s ridiculously fucking happy.

I’ll marry you, course I’ll fucking marry you.

Is she happy?

‘Yeah.’ He breathes into the receiver, it’s shaky and caught. ‘Got out, uh, month or so ago. Overcrowding or some shit.’ It’s a lie, but he doesn’t know how much Mandy knows about Mexico or rolling on the cartel. Heck, he doesn’t even know if she knows Ian got locked up too. The thought makes something in him shift, it’s uncomfortable and overwhelming, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

‘Congrats.’ She says, ‘I guess.’

It hangs awkwardly in the tinny silence between them. Mickey suddenly feels his cheeks flush and feels horribly, horribly vulnerable. He doesn’t even know why he fucking bothered to call, it was a dumb idea-

‘Last I heard you were in Mexico.’ She continues, and there’s a car honking loudly out in the background. It sounds like she might be on a balcony, perhaps in the middle of the city somewhere. Maybe, thousands of miles away. ‘How’d you swing that?’

Mickey lets out the breath he didn’t even realise he’d been holding and it flows out broken through his teeth, his lungs deflating. ‘You know about Mexico?’

‘Dad.’ She replies, and it’s dull and heavy. This takes him sharply by surprise like a stab to the gut, they both fucking hate their father.

‘Didn’t realise you guys were still talkin’.’ He swallows, trying to conceal the heavy lump forming in his throat. He always figured Mandy was like him, ready to cut off contact with their family as soon as she had the means to. It’s a shock to find out different.

‘We’re not.’ She replies firmly, and Mickey gets the clear message that she’s not going to give him any more details to play with. She exhales on the other end and Mickey pictures her blowing out smoke into the crisp air, watching it ascend up towards the sky as she so often did.

Fuck, he could use a cigarette.

‘Why’d you call?’

‘Can’t a guy call his sister? What’s with the 20 fuckin’ questions.’ Mickey gruffs, but he knows it’s not a ridiculous question. They don’t do this. They don’t keep up with each other’s lives. It makes something in Mickey’s chest ache dully, but he knows they could’ve probably gone the rest of their lives without exchanging another word. ‘You gave me your fuckin’ number.’

‘Yeah, and you’ve never fuckin’ used it.’ She snaps back, it’s exasperated and weighty. He can see her frustrated, twisted face, her hands clenched at her sides. It’s a sight he's seen so many times before.

‘Excuse me for being locked up and on the goddamn run.’ He bites back, ‘Not much time to chit chat between prison sentences and pushin’ coke for Mexicans...’ His fleeting anger trails off, and they breath slowly together, knowing they’ve both played an equally big part in neglecting the other.

Mandy lets out a thin, exhausted laugh, it comes through tinny and static. ‘You’re an asshole, you know that?’

He rolls his eyes, ‘I’m calling now, okay?’ Mickey sighs, his hand adjusting it’s tight grip on the phone. He feels like he might accidentally snap it in two. 'Not sure why it was left to me, but whatever.'

He feels like he might accidentally snap in two. He swallows.

Might as well get it over with.

‘Ian and I-’ He starts, his left hand gripping the side even tighter, knuckles whitening against the silver band.

‘God, you really couldn’t keep away could you?’ Mandy interrupts, it’s airy and light yet coloured with something heavier. Something low and fiery sparks in his stomach. He knows Mandy’s never been entirely supportive of his relationship with Ian - not because she disapproves or anything, but because she knows how badly he fucked him up when they were kids, it’s hard to come back from that. He’ll always be her piece of shit brother that knocked up a whore, got married, and fucked around her best friend. He doesn’t even think she has a clue about what happened with Svetlana, not that she should, not that he'd ever tell her. He doubts that Ian’s ever crossed that line either.

‘Shut the fuck up-’ He bites back, teeth gritted, despite knowing it’s 100% true - he couldn’t keep away even if he tried. He doesn’t even know who he’s kidding, he got his ass thrown back into the joint purely so he could be with Ian. He never wants to stay away.

‘You whipped bastard.’ She says, and Mickey could put money on her smiling right now, a big toothy grin that she only wheels out for special occasions, he hears it in her voice. The pent up tension deflates ever so slightly, bringing him back down to earth.

‘Whatever.’ He grunts casually, though his cheeks flush with red hot embarrassment and he sends a quiet thanks out into the universe that there’s no one else here to witness this.

‘So...’ Mandy starts, her voice hanging expectedly. ‘You and Ian are what?’

He can’t help the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile, because of course he can’t stop himself from smiling when he thinks of Ian, he feels like a fucking teenage girl.

‘We’re getting hitched.’ He says, his shoulders falling down in relief. He’ll never get tired of it.

Mandy makes a strangled noise from the other end. ‘No fuckin’ way, you’ve finally put your big boy pants on, huh?’ She quips humorously, but it stings, ever so slightly. ‘That divorce from your first wife finally roll through?’

He knows it’s supposed to be a joke, one of Mandy’s often ill thought out comments, but he can’t help the way his hand trembles.

‘Fuck off.’ He snaps because he’s not thinking about that period of his life today, no thank you, that is not the conversation they’re about to have. He hasn’t thought about Svetlana or the baby or the weird home that he and Ian crafted together for those few months, all those years ago. It hurts too much to think about, to think about how quickly it all came crashing down around him, burning and crumbling to the ground. Ian’s mania, getting locked up, that horrible, horrible day out in the front yard.

He used to think a lot about it when he was in Mexico, he’d see a young couple and it would hit him like a baseball bat to the skull that he would never get to have that again.

Maybe, just maybe, he gets to have Ian back for good now. Maybe the universe is done ripping the only good and solid thing in Mickey’s life away from him.

‘You gonna come?’ He grunts, shifting the subject away from the painful ache in his chest. It doesn’t work.

‘It gonna be in Chicago?’ Mandy sighs, and Mickey already knows the answer.

‘Yeah.’

‘Nah.’ Mandy breathes, ‘There’s nothing left for me there.’

It should hurt more, Mickey realises solemnly, but it doesn’t.

He understands, he gets it.

Lots of shit went down for Mandy in Chicago, lots of shit went down for him. He knows what it’s like to walk around with a name like Milkovich on your back, like a target, like a shadow. He doesn’t blame her for needing the space, the distance, a different air to breathe. He’d want the change too if his heart wasn’t so intrinsically rooted here, if he hadn’t spent years fighting just to get back to this point - the safety of Ian’s love and the solid walls of the Gallagher kitchen. He’d never thought he’d think of this house as some sort of paradise, but after years of struggling against the tide, it’s nice to be able to breathe again.

‘I’m real happy for you, Mick.’ Mandy says and Mickey can hear her swallow deeply though the receiver. ‘And Ian- fuck, I can’t believe you guys.’

‘What?’

‘You guys shouldn’t have worked out- nothing about the two of you make any fuckin’ sense and yet...it always comes back to you two.’ She says brokenly, her breath held and tight. She lets out a hollow, sad laugh. ‘Never actually thought you two were the real deal.’

Mickey doesn’t know what to say. He breathes, waiting.

‘Always figured Ian could’ve done better, especially when you got locked up...thought you’d just been, you know, fucking him around.’ She continues and Mickey has to swallow down a sharp, automatic response as she rallies through. ‘Guess I was wrong though… that asshole always was a little self destructive.’

‘Guess we both are.’ Mickey quietly but firmly and there’s a pause before they both let out broken and hesitant laughs. The moment is melancholic and filled with the knowing that they all deserved more out of life. ‘Just thought you should know.’

‘Thanks.’ Mandy says, after a moment. ‘I’m happy for you guys.’

It hangs there sadly, both of them aware of the struggle it’s been.

Mickey hums, unable to find the words, his thumb stroking the wedding band softly.

‘I’ve gotta go.’ Mandy sighs, and he can hear her rustling down the other end. ‘Thanks for calling, Mick.’

‘Yeah.’ He breathes, unsure whether he wants the conversation to end here or not, but pushing down the need to say anything else.

‘Congrats.’ Mandy swallows, there’s a beat and the line clicks off. He closes his eyes, and breathes.

He’s not sure how long he stands there, phone still pressed up against his ear, but he breaks when he hears the door rattle open moving quickly to wipe at his eyes. He opens the fridges and grabs a distracting beer, it’s cool against his skin. Someone trudges up the front staircase, their footsteps following all the way to the upstairs landing. A door slams. Carl, maybe?

He opens the beer and chugs it down in one go.

It stings.

#shameless #shameless fic #gallavich #gallavich fic #yes this is sad #but also i am sad #mickey milkovich #mandy milkovich

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