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featherymalignancy · 3 years

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Omertà—A Nessian Mob Story

Summary: When Cassian Şahin—a member of a successful organized crime syndicate—goes into Italy on a fact-finding mission for his friend and boss brother Rhysand Javed, there is only one rule: speak to no one and do not interfere. However, when Cassian’s mission brings him into contact with the devasting and powerful Nesta Archeron, daughter of the most powerful crime lord in Italy, he finds his mission (and his good sense) quickly blown off course. When circumstance forces Nesta and Cassian into close quarters, the line between hatred and desire begins to blur, leaving both of them to question whether their loyalties truly lie....

Okay so I know it’s not an update on any of my OTHER ongoing projects and I’m sorry! All I can say for myself is that this idea has been bubbling in my head for a few weeks and for the first time in a long time I sat down today and I wrote and this is what came out.

Some quick things before we jump in.

1. this was partially inspired by @tswaney17’s Elriel fic I Do Bad Things With You, if you haven’t read it, go do it now!

2. Despite a name which looks like it came from a over-eager wannabe fantasy novelist, the ‘Ndrangheta is a very real organized crime syndicate in Italy similar to the Sicilian mob. Most of the details about 'Ndrangheta are based in truth, if only very loosely.

4. TRIGGER WARNING FOR BRIEF GRAPHIC VIOLENCE

So yeah, let’s get into it!

Omertà, Part I

Under any other circumstances, Cassian Şahin would have dreaded the order to go to Cosenza.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find the city beautiful, because he did. Nestled in the valley of the Crati river and surrounded by rolling hills, it was idyllic and beguiling in that classic Italian way, and unlike the bland shit they ate in Lazio and Tuscany, the cuisine this far South was spicy, hearty fare that reminded Cassian of the types of dishes his Venezuelan grandmother used to make.

Still, none of that mattered. Not really, anyway. Cosenza was still ‘Ndrangheta territory, and for a man like Cassian who made his living outside the law, it was enough to know he was trespassing in enemy territory.

Besides, the city wasn’t run by some two-bit Sicilian cosche —it was run by the Archerons.

Originally hailing from Bari on Italy’s Western coast, it was rumored that the Archeron family descended from an illegitimate branch of the powerful and savage Sforzas, who ruled Milan and later Pesaro with iron fist throughout the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.

Having heard stories about Calogero Archeron, Cassian didn’t find it difficult to imagine the Archerons were pedigreed in both warfare and violence going back generations.

Not only were the Archerons the most influential of Calabria’s ‘ndrine, they were famous the criminal world over for their cunning, their resourcefulness, and their power.

It was why—on any other night—Cassian would have begged Rhys not to send him to Cosenza. After all, their business wasn’t one which often had dealings with the likes of Archerons

As Rhys was so fond of pointing out, “we aren’t that type of criminals.”

Where the old-school outfits like ‘Ndrangheta and Cosa Nostra still made their money off of racketeering, extortion, and smuggling, Rhys was far more interested in making his billions the modern way: through technology. From online gambling to wire fraud, Rhys wasn’t interested in anything as pedestrian drug smuggling or gun-running.

In Rhys’s mind, this meant that he had no quarrel with the Italian crime syndicates. Unfortunately, the ‘Ndrangheta—and the Archeron ‘ndrina in particular—didn’t seem to agree. Archeron capos had been nosing around Rhys’s Swiss accounts for months, and one poor bastard had even been stupid enough to attempt to blackmail Azriel in order to get to secure a cut of Rhys’s lucrative dealings.

Though Rhys had limited his punishment to breaking the would-be extornist’s wrists and Calogero Archeron—old-school, honors-bound mafiosi that he was—had chosen not to retaliate, they’d known for months that it wasn’t the last they’d heard of the Archerons. When the Archeron outfit found leverage over Rhysand—as they’d done with so many others before him—they’d be back to demand their cut.

It was why��up until tonight—Cassian and Azriel had been ordered to give the entire peninsula a wide berth.

“I don’t want either of you in Italy,” Rhys had said in that voice that always reminded Cassian of Rhys’s father.

“Until when?” Azriel had asked.

Though he claimed to hate the food, Azriel had always had staunch bias for Italian tailors, and—more importantly—a weakness for Italian women.

“Until I can be sure that Calogero Archeron won’t cut off your head and feed your body to the pigs in order to hide the evidence,” Rhys had said.

Cassian, for his part, had settled into the declaration with relative ease, quickly finding peace with the knowledge that he may be an old man before he ever set foot in Italy again. This in mind, he’d never imagined himself being ordered back within six months, and then when it he returned, it would be to Cosenza, the Archeron’s longtime base of operations.

Then again, Cassian had also never imagined that a man as powerful as Calogero Archeron could die of something as pedestrIan as blocked arteries. And yet he had, so here they were.

It had been Cassian’s idea, actually, to go to Cosenza once they’d heard of Calogero’s death. The Archerons—he’d argued to Rhys—would be vulnerable while they worked to fill the void Calogero had left. It was the best chance they’d get to get intel on the Archeron ‘ndrina .

As Rhys’s head of security, Azriel had insisted it was too much of a risk for Rhys himself to go, and the stakes were too high to send any of the more junior captains. So in the end it was only he and Cassian who’d gone to Italy, their directive clear.

They were to gather information and they were not to be seen, not to interact with anyone, and—above all—they were not to interfere in any way.

“Whatever the Calabrians are going to do,” Rhys had said. “Let them do it. I don’t need a war because one of you decides to try your hand at being a diplomat.”

“Yes sir,” they’d both said.

And so here they were, both dressed in funeral black and doing their best to blend in with the crowd at L’Opera, a swanky nightclub at the heart of the old city which served as the Archerons’ unofficial seat of power.

“You’re full of shit, you know.”

Azriel’s voice—smooth and cold—echoed in the earpiece Cassian wore. Despite his slight accent, Az still spoke Italian like a poet. Cassian had been told he spoke it like a peasant. Or worse, a tourist.

Cassian fought the instinct to touch his ear. Normally it would have been suicide to come wired into an Archeron club, but once look at the security on the way in earlier had told them that no one within the Archeron outfit would be looking for spies tonight.

“Excuse me?” He said instead.

“You don’t give a fuck about gathering information,” Azriel said. “You’re normally garabage on intelligence missions. You just think tonight might be your chance to finally see her ”

“Che?” Cassian said, speaking softly to avoid looking as if he were talking to himself.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Azriel said. “You know exactly who.”

“As a connoisseur of Italian beauty, I don’t know how you aren’t more curious as well.”

“Do me a favor: the next time you want to fantasize about Nesta Archeron, just google her instead of putting both our necks on the line.”

“We’re gangsters, Az; ‘necks on the line’ comes with the territory.”

Azriel, whose father had been a high-ranking shateigashira for one of the most powerful Yakuza in Kyoto, let out a soft snarl at the word. Despite what they did for a living, Azriel refused to acknowledge that like his abusive father, he’d ended up in organized crime.

“Speak for yourself,” he snapped

“I’m sorry,” Cassian said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Just keep your head on a swivel and stop thinking with your cock,” Azriel said, the bite gone from his tone.

“This isn’t about my cock,” Cassian said, “This is about seeing whether the Calogero’s chain of command really is strong enough to outlive him.”

Mostly, it was true.

Nesta Archeron—Calogero’s eldest daughter and his heir apparent—was due at the club at 11 for a meeting with her family’s second in command, a man known only by the nickname “ Il Barone ”, which,more often than not over the years, had been shortened to more colloquial iteration of Beron.

Beron had taken over as acting-leader of the Archeron ‘ndrina, and the few rumors they’d managed to collect suggested there was tension between Il Barone and the eldest Archeron, and that though her father had named her his successor in his will, Beron was apprehensive about put the ‘ndrina in Nesta’s hands.

At 29, Beron likely wasn’t the only one within the organization who deemed Nesta too young and too female to take over the ‘ndrina now that her father was dead. However, Cassian had been watching Nesta’s work within the organization the last few years, and he’d frankly been impressed with what he’d seen.

Far from the sex workers and smack her grandfather Anselmo had built his empire on, Nesta’s vision for the family was far more advanced—and far less exploitative of the poor and desperate who made up the majority of Calabria’s population.

Nesta had a degree in economics from Oxford and a MBA from Harvard, and—much like Rhys—her criminal ideology was centered in the money markets. Insider trading, exchanges fraud—it was still messy work, but it also tended to end with far less bullets to the head.

If Nesta did, in fact, attend the meeting with Beron, the outcome would be telling either way.

And yes, if Cassian was being totally honest with himself, he was... curious about Nesta Archeron, enemy though she was. Despite Az’s flippant suggestion earlier, Cassian had caved to boredom once or twice and googled Nesta, though information had been scarce and photos even scarcer. Still, the one he had managed to find had been taken of her during days on the rowing team at Oxford, and even in a shapeless kit with her hair scraped back into a braid, she’d been mesmerizing.

And that had been ten years ago. Cassian couldn’t deny he was eager to see how time had changed her. Az could call it what he liked, but the way Cassian saw it, gorgeous women were a perk of the job.

“There’s chatter at the door,” Azriel said, breaking Cassina’s reverie. “She’s on her way, five minutes.”

“And Il Barone ?”

“He’s already here, Private VIP lounge upstairs. Don’t even think about trying to sneak up there, Cassian.”

Cassian didn’t heed his friend, already on the move up the stairs.

“We need eyes and ears or this is all for nothing,” Cassian said. “I’m going to send a little friend up there.”

He unpocketed the discreet recording device—which had been designed to resemble a drink straw—and began the ascent, careful to watch his step to avoid making uncessary noise.

He needn’t have been so cautious.

Il Barone was on the phone, speaking in what Cassian was surprised to realize was Dutch. The ‘Ndrangheta, like their Sicilian counterparts, were generally unwelcoming of outsiders.

Then again, Vito Corleone’s consigliere had been German-Irish, so what did Cassian really know about any of this Italian mafioso business?

From what Cassian could pick up from Beron’s conversation, he was assuring the person on the other end of the line that he and Nesta would work out their differences and everything would be fine.

Cassian wondered—as he gently tossed the recording device onto the semi-private landing and watched into roll into place—what Nesta Archeron would make of the fact Beron had just promised to “handle her with care”.

If he had to bet, she’d probably be pissed.

“Cassian, get out of there,” Azriel said, voice barely above a whisper over the commas. “Archeron just walked in and she’d heading straight to you.”

Cassian soundlessly slunk back down the stairs before melting into the shadow closest to the stairs and asking, “What’s she wearing?”

Azriel’s groan was more audible than below.

“You can’t miss her.”

“What—”

Cassian didn’t bother with the rest as he glanced up to watch the most gorgeous woman he’d frankly ever seen striding towards him.

Just as Az had suggested, it was obvious even beyond her beauty that this was the famed Nesta Archeron.

However, where Cassian had imagined lush curves poured into a slinky cocktail dress, he was met instead with a woman who—perhaps somewhat fittingly—looked prepared to execute a hostile corporate takeover.

Though she was dressed in a black sheath, it was neither short nor overly tight, though it did hug her slender frame in a way that told Cassian it had obviously been made for her. A large mink coat sat over her shoulders, make her look like a mix between Tony Montana and Cruella DeVille.

And her eyes—

Given that her father was Calabrian and her mother Corsican, Cassian had lamely assumed that her eyes would be brown. Instead they were a scalding artic blue, so bright and cold Cassian was sure one glance from her would be enough to burn.

Oh fuck, she was gorgeous. Cassian felt his heart rate kicking up as she neared him, even as he melted farther into the shadows, knowing he couldn’t be seen.

But goddamn, what he wouldn’t give for even more look from that woman, burn hazard or not.

“Focus,” came Azriel’s voice. “I can practically hear you panting from across the room.”

“Relax,” Cassian breathed, risking a glance around the corner to watch Nesta Archeron and that gorgeous, heart-shaped ass ascending the stairs. “I’m a wraith.”

“Pain in the ass, is what you are,” Azriel murmured, and Cassian only chuckled his agreement before drawing out his phone to check the feed from the recording device.

As luck would have it, it had fallen into what would be a perfect viewing angle once Nesta sat down, which she did a moment later.

Il Barone was only partially in frame, but Cassian caught a decent enough glimps of his face as he leaned across the table to brush a lingering kiss on Nesta’s cheek.

“That’s enough, Vanserra,” she said with cool bite, her accent a mix of Italian lilt and posh British-English. “Just because my father is gone doesn’t mean I’m suddenly yours to slather over.”

Beron Vanserra.

That name alone would be worth the trip to Consenza, assuming that Cassian and Azriel both made it out of L’Opera alive.

Beron only chuckled.

“You misunderstand my affection, bambina. Your father was my dearest friends; that makes you almost a daughter to me.”

Nesta’s lips—which had been painted a sinister oxblood crimson—curled into a sneer.

“Don’t speak to me like I’m a child, yours or otherwise. And speaking of your children—” at this her eyes flicked up, presumably to the man who was standing guard over Beron’s shoulder. “ You’d do well to remind them that I am not their prize to covet, either.”

Another soft chuckle.

“I would never presume the right to covet a beauty like yours, Nesta,” a new voice answered.

“Then keep your eyes off my neckline, Eris,” she shot back.

“Now, now, children,” Beron cut in, Nesta’s eyes flashing even hotter at the deliberate jibe. “We’re not here to fight.”

“No,” Nesta agreed. “I’m here for my father’s ring. Give it to me and I’ll be on my way.”

“So soon?” Beron asked. “But you’ve only just arrived.”

“I don’t have time for your games or stalling tactics. That ring is my birthright, and my father left it and the ‘ndrina to me.”

Though the camera was angled too far away to catch all of Beron Vanserra, his hands at least were visible, as was the heavy gold signet ring he twirled around a finger.

“Perhaps,” Beron said. “But one could argue that he wasn’t his right to give this ‘ndrina away without the approval of the council. We aren’t Sicilians, Nesta; it’s not for one man to choose his successor.”

“I see,” Nesta said, and Cassian could see the cold ire limning her every muscle. “And I suppose this is the part where you tell me you think perhaps you would be a better fit for the role.”

“Perhaps I think I would be. Age before beauty, m’donna. I have critical experience you lack.”

“You’re also not Calabrian, which means the council will never accept you.”

“Except...they already have,” Beron said. “That is, the ones who are still alive. The others, obviously, had to be replaced before we could reach an equitable consensus.”

Cassian watched as the rage melted to something colder on Nesta’s face, his own heart rate inexplicably picking up in response.

“You think it’s that easy?” Nesta asked, but Cassian could hear the growing apprehension in her voice. “To just steal my family’s dynasty?”

Beron only laughed.

“I know it is, because I’ve already done it.”

Nesta reached for her phone, making Beron laugh harder.

“Go ahead and check for yourself, if you like. Ruggieri, Lanzano, Perratta, all your most ardent defenders—all dead. All that remains now is for you to submit. Your days as capo are over, of course, but I think we might still find some position for you to continue to provide value. On your back, perhaps.”

“I was going to suggest on her knees,” Eris cut in.

“Get fucked,” Nesta snarled.

“You first,” Eris shot back.

“I’d rather die,” Nesta said, and in flash she’d unholstered a gun from the belt of one of the two bodyguards she’d brought with her, pointing it directly between Beron’s eyes.

However, she was never given the opportunity to fire. No sooner had she raised the gun than the very same guard produced a garotte, stringing isn’t expertly around her neck.

“Fuck,” Cassian breathed, watching as Nesta dropped the gun to grappled with the cord now being tightened around her throat “They are going to kill her.”

“Tough shit,” Azriel said. “You know our orders.”

“Az, they are seriously going to kill her!”

“Then that’s her fault for not bringing more loyal guards. Stand down, Cassian!”

For a split second, Cassian did actually consider listening to his friend. Rhys had been explicit in his command that they not interfere, and killing the acting head of the Archeron ‘ndrina was not actually subtle.

However, when he remembered what it was Nesta Archeron represented and what she was being sacrificed to uphold, his decision was made.

Bounding up the stairs and unholstering the small snub-nosed revolved he’d smuggled past the metal detectors earlier, Casshain immediately fired at the man currently choking Nesta, hitting him twice in the chest. The man went down with a thud, as Nesta felt to the carpet coughing. It was then that Cassian realized he probably ought to have put slightly more care into his plan now that he was outnumbered four to one. However, before the remaining guards or the Vanserras could react, there was a loud bang and a shattering of glass below, followed by screams as one of the massive crystal chandeliers smashed on the floor.

Azriel.

Taking advantage of the momentary reprieve Az had bought him, Cassian fired at the next two guards hitting one in the chest and one between the eyes. Beron and Eris, clearly not willing to become Cassian’s next victims, both dove for the balcony, preparing to use the crowd below to cushion their fall.

Just as the famed Il Barone turned to flee, he pointed a finger at Cassian in menace.

“Whoever you are, you are dead. You both are.”

Cassian’s only response was to fire his final bullet at Beron, which grazed his shoulder just as he and Eris escaped.

“If by some miracle we make it out of here alive,” came Azriel’s voice as Cassian crawled towards where Nesta lay, breathing but now motionless, on the ground. “Please know that your days will still be numbered. I am literally going to kill you for this.”

“Get in line,” Cassian said, tentatively reaching to check Nesta’s pulse. “ Il Barone just promised the same.”

Just as Cassian’s fingers brushed the soft, delicate skin of Nesta Archeron’s neck, she flipped over, eyes bloodshot but still full of alacrity as she broke twisted his hand with a hard jerk, snapping two of his fingers.

“Fuck!” He said, but she didn’t stop, using his pain as a means of distraction before ripping the baseball cap he’d been wearing off his head and staring dead into his eyes.

“Whatever it is you think you want from me,” she snarled, eyes continuing to devour him. “You can’t have it.”

Cassian only bucked her off of him, breaking her grip on his wrist and—broken fingers be damned—flipped her onto her stomach. Quick as an asp, he jabbed her in the side with a fast-acting sedative that—until this very moment—he’d never fathomed ever finding a use for.

In less than a minute Nesta’s struggling ceased, and a quick check of her wrist told Cassian that she was alive but unconscious. Not that it mattered; the damage was already done.

She’d seen his face.

“Are you clear?” Came Azriel’s voice. “Back door, five minutes. Naz is already waiting in the alley with a car.”

“I can’t,” Cassian said, surprised to find his voice cracking with emotion. “Archeron made me.”

“She what?”

“She got the jump on me when I went to check her pulse and saw my face. I’m can’t go back with you and risk blowing your and Naz’s cover.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Azriel said, voice stern.

“You don’t have a choice. When she comes to—”

“Fine, then just shoot her before she does.”

“If I kill her, what was any of this for?”

“Then I’ll shoot her—”

“Just go, Az! I’ll lay low in Cosenza for a while and when I’m sure the heat has died down and it’s safe to come home, I’ll call you.”

There was a long-suffering sigh before—

“Bring her.”

Cassian, despite everything, felt the absurd need to laugh.

“Excuse me?”

“Bag her and let’s go. We’ve been here too long already.”

“Our orders were not to get involved. What do you think the boss is going to say when we come home with an Archeron as a hostage?”

“If you don’t bring her, then you might as well shoot her,” Azriel said. “Because when Il Barone finds her, he’s just going to kill her.” He paused before adding, “Or worse.”

He had a point there.

Glancing around for a suitable blindfold and finding none, Cassian ripped a measure of fabric from the hem of Nesta’s dress and tied it around her eyes.

If she didn’t hate him already, she was definitely going to hate him for that. Kissing the archangel medallion hanging around his neck, Cassian heaved a still-unconscious Nesta over his shoulder and took off down the stairs, marveling at the chaos that Azriel had managed to created and then evade as he jogged to the back door.

His friend was already there waiting for him, his normally glossy black hair damp with sweat and his eyes teaming with high emotion.

“Az, I—”

“No time,” Azriel said, kicking the door opened with a booted foot and all but shoving Cassian through into and into a waiting SUV. No sooner had Azriel leapt in behind him and shut the door then bullets began pinging off the armored side panels.

“Drive, Nazaret!” Azriel demanded, and the Land Rover peeled out down the alley and into the narrow streets of Cosenza. It took 25 minutes of elusive driving, but eventually Naz was able to lose their tail, guiding the car to a secluded helipad where a chopper was already waiting to take them across the Adriatic to Rhys’s estate in Croatia.

All told, the journey took about four hours, and with Azriel refusing to speak to or even look at him, Cassian had nothing to do but debate his sins.

He’d gotten in the middle of a ‘Ndrangheta dispute, killed Italian made-men, and kidnapped mafiaso royalty—all offenses the ‘Ndrangheta would never let go unpunished. And Christ, that was to say nothing of Nesta Archeron would try to do to him when she came to.

His fingers still throbbed from where she snapped them. Merda, was she going to be so pissed when she woke up.

And what about her sisters? Though both younger and—by all the intelligence Rhys had managed to gather on the Archerons—less involved in ‘ndrina business than Nesta had been, they were still ‘Ndrangheta by blood and birthright. Cassian seriously doubted they’d be taking the abduction of their sister laying down, which meant that they’d have to be dealt with as well, and soon.

But before all that, he’d have to deal with Rhys.

Cassian had (rather stupidly) hoped that perhaps Az would pity him enough to delay telling Rhys what had happened in Cosenza. However, he knew it had been wishful thinking when the plane touched down on the small runway which abutted Rhys’s villa and the man himself was standing on the tarmac, arms crossed and dark hair whipping across his forehead from the engine.

Glancing at Nesta’s form to assure she was properly attended, Cassian didn’t waste him dowdelling. He trotting down the steps, he opened his mouth to begin explaining himself before his friend held up an imperious hand to demand silence before gritting out, pearly teeth bared in a snarl:

“What the fuck have you done?”

Tagging some random parties: @tswaney17 @keshavomit @live-the-fangirl-life @katexrenee @mightymorphingayagenda @justgiu12 @vasudharaghavan @sayosdreams @123moiaussi @readingismyonlyhobby @jungleslang @nikethestatue @empress-ofbloodshed

If you don’t want to be tagged or you do, let me know!

#I’m back I hope?#Omerta #Nessian mob AU #Nesta x Cassian #New Fic

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inagetawaycarxo · 3 years

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Beneath The Surface [COMPLETE SERIES]

Pairings: Adam Cole x Reader, Kyle O’Reilly x Reader, Bobby Fish x Reader, Roderick Strong x Reader, Jay Halstead x Reader [Sibling], Will Halstead x Reader [Sibling], Connor Rhodes x Reader [LI], Austin Smith x Reader, Mob!Boss!Roman Reigns x Reader

Featuring: Y/n, Connor Rhodes, Jay Halstead, Will Halstead, Hank Voight, Kim Burgess, Kyle O’Reilly, Bobby Fish, Rhys, Carson, Mr Williams, Norah Williams, Kevin Atwater, Austin Smith [OC], Roman Reigns, Jey Uso, Antonio Dawson, Adam Ruzek.

Summary: A small town is rocked by a case of a woman with amnesia, who is she? what happened to her? What is she hiding?

Warnings: involves abuse, violence, blood, whumps, firefighting stuff I got wrong, police stuff I got wrong, medical things I got wrong, medical stuff, light angst, Adam being douche, secrets, errors I missed, PTSD, nightmares, flashbacks, angst, blood, violence, drama, mentions of kidnapping, character death, death, car crash.

w/c; 17523

The tree branches scraped against your skin as you ran through the woods. All battered and bruised. Finding it difficult to see out of your left eye it was swollen. You found it hard to breathe as well. Your lungs felt like they were on fire, but you kept pushing yourself to run. You couldn’t stop now, you had to run.

Hope sparked inside of you as you saw a barn. Quickly running over to the barn as best as you could.

Slipping under the wooden fence. Sucking in a deep breath, pain rippled through your body. but you pushed through. Walking up to the door of the barn. Your hand resting on the door, sliding it open.

You quickly entered the barn. Closing the door behind you. The barn smelled like manure, animals, feed, silage, and wood all mixed together. You made your way over to a hay bale, sitting down on it. You carefully laid down. The barn wasn’t occupied by animals. Your eyes slowly closed, as you winced in pain. Your head was killing you. Every limp in your body felt like it was on fire. Your vision slowly fading into black…

“Dad, I’m sure the animals will be fine,” The daughter of the elderly man huffed out.

“Just want to check on them, they are a new herd of cattle I want to see how they are settling in,” He spoke. Getting up. Walking over to the front door. Taking his coat off the hook near the door. He slipped it on. Slipping into his gumboots. He grabbed the lantern. Grabbing his matches out of his pocket and lighting the lantern. He put the match out. Putting it down on the hallway table. Grabbing his rifle that was in the corner. Slinging the armband that was attached to the rifle over his shoulder.

“They were fine ten minutes ago when you checked on them again,” His daughter sighed. As her father opened the door. Exiting the farmhouse. Ignoring his daughter.

He held the lantern up in front of him. The fire lightening his path. Eyebrows furrowing as he heard his animals make sounds of distress.

“It’s okay,” He reassured them. Not that it worked. He then proceeds to locate what got them so spooked.

Eyes widening in slight fear, as he saw a coyote stalking outside of his barn. He put the lantern down, so he could fire his rifle.

He aimed at the coyote. Pulling the trigger. The sound of the gun breaking through the air. This seemed to cause his daughter to panic rushing out of the house. While her father picked up the lantern. Running over to the coyote to see if he got it. The coyote quickly ran away, fleeing the scene without a trace of a bullet wound.

The elderly man let out a sigh. Looking at the barn.

His eyes widen as he saw a bloody handprint smudged on the door. Taking slow steps he walked to the door. Hand pressing against the door, he slides it open. Heart pounding faster.

The moonlight lit up the barn. What he saw next made his heart speed up. He clutched his chest with his hand, dropping the lantern in the process. Causing it to fall on the floor. Breaking the glass. The fire spread across the hay scatted on the ground, as the elderly man fell to his knees, holding his chest tightly as he had a heart attack. The image of a bloody, beaten-up woman laying on his hay bale was too much for him.

“DAD,” His daughter screamed as she saw the barn light up with fire. She quickly sprinted back to the house. Tearing the front door open. Rushing over to the landline. She picked the cordless phone up. Quickly dialing 9-1-1. Holding the phone up to her ear, rushing back outside.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The emergency operator spoke.

“HELP ME! My father, he is in the barn and it’s on fire,” She gasped out. Her voice was full of panic.

“What’s your address?” the emergency operator asked. Typing away on a keyboard.

“I… Oh my god,” The women gasped out, as the fire grew larger. She was too shocked to speak. The emergency operator quickly tracked the women’s location. Informing the fire department and the ambulance department.

“Ma’am, help is on the way,” The emergency operator spoke. Only to hear the sound of the phone dropping and a loud cry…

The smell of smoke invaded your nostrils, waking you up. Your eyes widen in panic as you saw fire. You quickly got off the hay bale, rushing to find a way out of this barn, unfortunately, you inhaled too much smoke, making you collapse to the ground…

The sound of the fire siren, as well as an ambulance siren, got louder as they drove up the driveway. The fire rig stopping near the barn. While the ambulance stopped a bit behind the fire truck.

The daughter of the elderly man rushed over to them.

Kyle and Bobby rushed out of the rig. Putting their oxygen mask on and tanks on their backs, before rushing into the building. While the other firefighters rolled the hose out, turning the nozzle on. releasing water.

Bobby and Kyle saw an elderly man laying on the ground. Bobby checked his pulse. Kyle looked around the barn, seeing another figure.

“Bobby there’s another one in here,” Kyle spoke. Pointing at a figure.

“I’ll get him out, and you go get her,” Bobby ordered. Kyle nodded. Carefully walking over to the figure. While Bobby picked the guy up, pulling him out of the building.

Kyle gasped as he took in the figure. It was a woman. Her face was littered with scratches. Not only was her face littered with scratches but there was blood on her face. he put two and two together, they were keeping this woman hostage.

He quickly picked her up carefully, walking out of the building. Glaring at the woman and the guy in the stretcher. Bobby looked up.

“Oh my god,” Bobby gasped out.

The woman looked up from her father. The other paramedic saw Kyle take another victim out. Rushing over to the back of the ambulance van, taking out another stretcher.

“Where you holding her captive?” Kyle spat out. As the other paramedic bought the stretcher over to Kyle. Kyle placed the woman delicately down on the stretcher. While the other paramedic checked the women.

“What?” The daughter of the elderly guy gasped out.

“She’s going to have to go to the hospital, she has a collapsed lung, among other things,” The paramedic spoke. The other paramedic nodded.

Both of them taking you and the elderly man to the back of the ambulance van. Kyle following.

“I’ve never seen that woman in my life, let alone knew she was in the barn,” The women gasped out. Holding her father’s hand,

“Well, then your father knew, maybe tried to hide the evidence of his crime,” Kyle spat out. as they loaded you in then the elderly man. The women hopping in a well.

“I’m not leaving you alone with her,” Kyle growled out. hopping into the back of the ambulance van as well. One of the paramedics hopped in, while the other one shut the doors. Going over to the driver’s side. Opening the door and getting in. they closed the door. Starting the ambulance van, then switching the siren on as they speed off to the hospital. Pressing their foot hard on the pedal. All the while Kyle glared at the women. Praying the woman he thought that they abused was okay…

Kyle felt relief wash over him as the ambulance stopped in the emergency parking space.

The other paramedic rushing out of the driver’s side, opening the doors. Both of them taking out the stretchers.

“You are going to pay for this,” Kyle growled out before he exited the back of the ambulance van…

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Kyle could hear his heart beating as every second went by. His chest felt heavy with anxiety, as he waited for a doctor or nurse to tell him the condition of the woman he saved. Or at least give him some sort of update. He had been waiting in the waiting room for hours.

Other people who were waiting as well, came and left.

He should have been at work, but he couldn't. He had to know the condition of the woman he saved, or at least her name.

Kyle heard footsteps approaching. Relief washed over him. thinking it was a doctor coming to inform him of the condition of the woman he saved, when he looked up it was his friend Adam, who happened to be a detective. Coming over to him.

“Hey,” Kyle spoke, sitting up straighter. As Adam stood in front of him.

“Heard you made quite a scene,” Adam spoke. Arching an eyebrow.

“Well, you would to if you found a battered and bruised woman in a barn, that was set ablaze, for all I know he was trying to cover his crime up,” Kyle grumbled out. Adam sat beside him.

“You don’t know that Mr. William isn’t that type of person,” Adam Sighed.

“People surprise you, Adam, you should know that,” Kyle grumbled. Adam just raised his eyebrow.

“Look Kyle I get you want to be a hero but you can't accuse someone especially a burn victim of abusing a woman, we haven’t heard the entire story yet,” Adam sighed.

“Like I said before people surprise you,” Kyle grumbled. Adam let out a long sigh. Resting his hand on Kyle's shoulder and squeezing it.

“Let the evidenced do the talking. Just stay out of it,” Adam warned. Letting go of Kyle’s shoulder and getting up. Leaving Kyle to glare at his back as he walked to the nurse's station. Asking the nurse where the room of the woman Kyle found was located in. The nurse quickly gave Adam the number for the room. Giving him a flirty smile. Adam smirked at her. Sending a wink her way as he walked off. walking to the room.

Adam pushed the door open. Smirking as he saw Doctor Rhodes.

“Connor,” Adam smirked. as he took a step forward. His eyes looking at the woman in the bed. She looked awful. There was a bandage wrapped around her head. A scatter of scratches on her face. her lip was busted, her left arm was in a sling, and her left eye was swollen.

“Cole,” Connor responded not looking up from the tablet. It was no secret Adam and Connor butted heads. Connor wasn’t Adam’s biggest fan, and Adam wasn’t Connor’s biggest fan either.

“So, how’s the patient? Is she going to wake up soon, hopefully sometime soon?” Adam asked. Making Connor’s jaw tighten. “She’s been through a lot, I put her induced coma, she’s lucky she’s even alive, she has a collapsed lung, broken arm, head trauma, not to mention…” Connor listed off only to get cut off by an impatient Adam.

“Yeah, yeah, just give her something to wake her up, so I can get answers out of her, then you can put her back in an induce comma,” Adam grumbled. Looking at Connor intensely. Connor’s jaw ticked.

Connor let out an annoyed huff. Putting the tablet down. giving Adam his full attention. His eyes were lit with fury. Blood boiling.

“Get out,” Connor shouted. Making Adam smirk.

“She’s a suspect,” Adam smirked. riling Connor up.

“She’s a victim, and she’s my patient, I’m not waking her up so you can grill her, come back when she actually wakes up,” Connor shouted. Nostrils flaring.

“Well, are you going to give me a set date on when you are going to take her out of the comma?” Adam asked.

“I’ll get one of the nurses to inform you when she wakes up on her own accord, till now leave,” Connor growled. Making Adam smirk. He turned around walking out of the room.

Connor let out a sigh. Walking over to you. His face edged with worry. He took a hold of your hand. His thumb caressing the back of your hand. His other hand went to your wrist, tracing the tattoo on your wrist. he knew that tattoo, he was there when you got it. Connor sat down on your bed beside you. Eyes filling with worry.

“Oh, y/n, what happened to you?” He sighed.

“I should have never left Chicago,” He spoke again, with so much sadness in his voice….

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Connor starred at you intently. He had a feeling your ex might have caused this. Connor quickly let go of your hand when he heard the door to your room open. He quickly stood up. Pretending to look t the tablet. As a male nurse named Rhys walked in. Rhys smiled at him.

“How’s the patient?” Rhys asked. Going over to you.

Connor let out a small sigh. Looking at Rhys.

“Pretty much the same,” Connor replied.

“If it’s any consolation, I think you made the right choice putting her in an induced coma,” Rhys spoke. Checking the wires that were connected to you.

“Let me guess Adam was complaining about it when he walked out?” Connor questioned. Making Rhys chuckle.

“Yep,” Rhys chuckled.

“Oh, Kyle is still in the waiting room, did you want me to inform him?” Rhys asked. Looking at Connor.

“No, it’s okay I will do it,” Connor responded. Making Rhys smile. Connor smiled at Rhys. Giving you one last longing glance. Before walking out of your room, and over to the waiting room.

Connor spotted Kyle. Making him let out a small sigh.

Connor smiled at Kyle as he made his way over to him.

“Kyle,” Connor greeted. Standing in front of Kyle.

“Is she okay? Is she awake?” Kyle asked frantically.

“She suffered a lot of brain trauma and I had to put her in an induced coma,” Connor replied.

Kyle looked down in defeat. Feeling like the whole world was closing around him.

“She’s in good hands,” Connor spoke. Giving Kyle a reassuring smile.

“Did you at least find out her name?” Kyle asked. Making Connor suck in a deep breath.

He knew who you were, but he just didn’t know if he should tell Kyle your name. The problem was Kyle was friends with Adam, who he hated, and who was a cop. Connor had a gut feeling your ex-boyfriend, who happened to be a cop did this to you.

“We don’t know, whoever hurt her removed her fingertips, and tried to make her unrecognizable,” Connor spoke. Making Kyle frown.

“You can see her if you want,” Connor spoke again. Seeing Kyle look deflated.

Kyle lifted his head. Eyes brightening with happiness. He got up.

“Thank you,” Kyle beamed. Connor gave Kyle a small smile.

Connor guided Kyle to your room. Opening the door for Kyle.

Kyle rushed in. Connor followed behind Kyle. Closing the door. Watching Kyle closely.

Kyle looked at you with a pained expression. Walking over to you. Taking in your appearance. It was all too overwhelming. Tears collected in his eyes.

He took a huge gulp before speaking.

“Don’t worry, my friend is a cop, and he will find out who hurt you,” Kyle promised you.

“Or side with her ex,” Connor thought to himself.

Kyle was about to sit down when his phone let out a ping. He quickly fished it out of his pocket. Looking at the phone screen. He had to go back to work. He looked at you then at the screen. Letting out a defeated sigh.

“Can I visit her again after my shift ends?” Kyle asked as he got up.

“Sure,” Connor replied. Smiling at Kyle. Kyle gave you one last final glance before walking out of the room reluctantly….

Adam parked his car next to Roddy’s car. Turning the car off and putting it in park. He put the hand brake up. Taking the car keys out of the ignition. Adam opened the door, stepping out of his car.

Roddy quickly walked up to him. Handing him some disposable gloves.

“Any evidence bagged yet?” Adam asked. As the two of them walked over to the burnt-down barn.

“No, everything is burnt,” Roddy spoke. Adam let out a grunt of annoyance.

He was about to speak, but the sound of a car engine coming towards them. Made him turn his attention towards the noise.

Adam saw Kyle get out of a taxi. Giving the taxi driver a couple of notes through the window.

Bobby quickly walked up to Kyle. Greeting Kyle.

“Hey man, how is she?” Bobby asked. Giving Kyle a big hug.

“In a coma,” Kyle responded. As Bobby pulled away.

“I’m sure she will pull through,” Bobby spoke. Putting his hand on Kyle’s shoulder.

Whatever Kyle was about to say was interrupted by the sound of someone talking.

“I found something,” Another cop spoke. Near the wooden fence.

Roddy, Adam, Bobby, and Kyle quickly rushed over.

The cop pointed at the fence. Adam smirked as he saw blood on the wooden fence. He felt confident it was the mystery woman that was lying in the hospital and that Mr. William didn’t hold the woman captive as Kyle claimed.

Adam turned to Kyle with a smug look. Making Kyle narrow his eyes slightly. Bobby and Roddy looked back and forth between Adam and Kyle.

“There's your evidence that Mr. William didn’t hold the woman hostage,” Adam spoke smugly. Making Kyle’s jaw clench slightly.

Adam turned his attention back to the cop.

“Bag it,” He spoke before walking off. Kyle glared at the back of Adam’s head.

It could be the blood of the woman he rescued or an injured animal, he thought to himself…

Chapter Text

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

It’s been two weeks since they found a bloody and bruised woman in Mr. William's barn.

Adam exhausted all leads. The blood they found wasn’t human, it was animal blood.

Adam tapped his fingers impatiently on his desk. Looking at the results from the blood they found two weeks ago. He put the piece of paper down. Letting out a frustrated groan.

“How about we get a warrant or something so we can get her blood?” Roddy suggested. Looking up from the PC screen.

“I have a better idea, we wake her up, grill her till she breaks,” Adam suggested. Making Roddy look at him with concern.

“Are you sure?” Roddy asked. Voice laced with concern.

“Unless you want an innocent man wrongly accused, we have no other choice, plus I think it’s time for her to wake up, I’m sure she would remember now, she’s been in a coma for two weeks,”

“How do you know she will remain; they say she has had brain trauma,” Roddy spoke.

“Because it is our only option,” Adam grumbled. Getting up and grabbing his coat. Roddy let out a sigh. Getting up and following Adam…

__________________________________________

Kyle smiled at the barista as she handed him a water bottle and a sandwich he ordered. He turned around, only to bump into a woman.

“Sorry,” Kyle apologized. Giving her a small smile. His smile dropped as he realized who it was. It was Mr. Williams, daughter.

“You should be, because of you everyone in this town thinks my father hurt that woman, that he held her hostage, that he tortured her,” She growled out. Tears collecting in her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks. Or if she, did it must have been a few hours. She had dark circles underneath her eyes.

“Well, what else was I supposed to think, she was injured,” Kyle snapped.

“Are you just being petty because I broke up with you?” She growled out. Through clenched teeth.

“That has nothing to do with it,” Kyle snapped. Glaring at her.

“Well, I hope you are proud of yourself, my father literally had a heart attack,” She snapped. Spinning on her heel and walking away…

__________________________________________

Adam walked into the hospital. Looking around the hospital in search of Connor. Adam walked over to the nurse's station. Smirking as he saw it was the nurse that always flirts with him. Roddy followed behind him.

“Where’s Doctor Rhodes?” Adam asked her.

“In surgery why?” She asked. Batting her eyelashes.

“No reason,” Adam smirked. Giving her a charming smile before turning around and walking to the unknown woman’s room.

Adam looked around before entering the room. Seeing if the coast was clear. Roddy followed behind him feeling slightly unsure if they should do this. He tried to talk Adam out of it on the way to the hospital, but Adam didn’t listen.

Adam took out a needle, with a liquid substance.

“Where did you get that from?” Roddy asked. Eyes widen in shock.

“A friend,” Adam responded. Walking over to you. He took the cap off the needle. Putting the needle into your cannula.

Adam smirked as he put the liquid substance into you. Roddy felt his heart rate quicken. Gulping as he felt like this was all a bad idea.

Your eyes opened wide. Looking around the room to see two male figures looking at you. You saw two figures standing there. Eyes widen in fear as you saw a police badge on their uniforms. Your mind quickly flashed to the nightmares you were having. The guy who beat you up had a badge. The sound of the machine monitor beeped loudly and rapidly. Roddy felt worried thinking it was the liquid substance that was affecting you. Maybe you were having an allergic reaction…

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Adam got up in your face. Making you gulp hard.

“Do you remember what happened to you?” Adam demanded. Making you move your head to the side. Adam’s eyes sparkled dangerously. He grabbed your chin hard. Roughly pulling your head to face him. The sound of the machine beeped faster making Roddy panic.

“Dude, just leave her alone,” Roddy sighed. Grabbing Adam’s shoulder and trying to pull him away. But Adam fought against him. Shrugging him off.

You tried to reach out to the button. But Adam grabbed your hand tightly. Making you whimper. Tears gathered in your eyes. As your heart rate speed up the machine beeped frantically.

Was he going to hurt you like that other cop was doing in those dreams you had?

“Tell me,” Adam demanded.

“I don’t remember,” You weakly gasped out. voice trembling with fear.

“Adam,” Roddy warned. Feeling worried about your safety. Yes, they needed answers. But scaring you to answer wasn’t the right solution.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Connor shouted. Looking at Adam and Roddy with fury in his eyes, but mainly Adam.

“Just getting answers, I mean it’s been two weeks since she came here, I want to know who our mystery woman is, don’t you?” Adam smugly spoke. Making Connor’s blood boil. While Roddy just shook his head disapprovingly.

“Are you insane, she has had a traumatic brain injury, she needs rest,” Connor growled out. Taking a step closer to you. Adam let go of you. making your heart rate decrease. You cast your gaze down.

“She woke up on her own,” Adam spoke. Connor gave Adam a sarcastic smile. Not believing a word he just spoke. Roddy shook his head no.

“I’m sure she did. Get out,” Connor spat out. Making Adam smirk smugly.

“I’ll find answers, and if you get in the way again I won’t hesitate in charging you,” Adam threatened. Glaring at Connor. Connor glared back at him.

Adam broke eye contact smirking.

“Come on, Roddy, see you later sweetheart,” Adam spoke sweetly. Patting your hair. Making you flinch.

Adam smirked at Connor as Roddy and he walked out of the door.

A whimper caught Connor’s attention.

“Are you okay?” He asked. Eyes full of worry. He quickly checked on you.

You looked at him intensely. Studying his features. He was gorgeous. You felt your breath hitch as he leaned closer. Shining his torch in your eyes.

He was about to speak but you cut him. Something about him made you want to tell him the reoccurring dream you kept having while sleeping. Well, it was more like a nightmare. Like he would keep you safe. that you could trust him. Heck, you would tell him your darkest secrets if you could remember them.

“I think I know who hurt me… when I was asleep, I kept having these vivid images of this guy attacking me. He hurt me so cruelly. And I saw a police badge,” You confessed. Your voice was above a whisper.

Connor looked at you with a heartbroken expression. Making your forehead crease with confusion. Why was he looking at you like that?

He grabbed your hand. Sitting down on the bed. His eyes gathering with tears.

“I don’t want to freak you out too much, but…” Connor spoke. Taking a deep breath before he spoke again.

“I know you; I know who did this to you,” He confessed. Making your breath hitch. Your mouth opening in shock. Eyes locked onto his.

“What’s my name?” You barely gasped out but he heard you somehow.

“Y/n l/n,” He responded.

“I’ll tell you anything, whatever you want to know I will tell you,” Connor spoke, looking at you with concern in his eyes…

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

You looked at Connor in shock. Your brain processing the words Connor spoke. Connor looked at you with a worried expression. While you looked down at the sheets.

You looked up at him. Parting your lips.

“Tell me more,” You gasped out. Heart beating faster.

Connor let out a sigh. Inching closer to you.

“You are from Chicago,” Connor started to say. Smiling slightly.

“You have two brothers, Will and Jay. Jay is actually your twin,” Connor told you.

“Twin? I’m a twin,” You gasped out in disbelief. Making Connor smile.

“Not identical though,” Connor chuckled. As a small smile graced your lips.

“You did have a boyfriend, but you dumped him, then got together with another man, which no one knows what he looks like, other than his name, which is Roman,” Connor spoke again.

“Oh, do you think he did this to me?” You asked. Heart plummeting as you waited for his response.

Connor let out a sigh. Casting his eyes down. his thumb absently caressing his thumb across the tattoo on your wrist. your eyes traveled down to where his thumb was. Sparks igniting in your body at his touch.

“ I think he did, I wouldn’t put it past him,” Connor finally spoke. Looking up at you. making your breath hitch.

“But the guy I saw in my dreams had a badge,” You gasped out.

“Yeah, your ex was a cop, wait you had dreams about what happened to you?” Connor spoke.

“Yeah,” You spoke quietly. Connor looked at you with concerned eyes.

“Your brother is a detective, didn’t like your ex-boyfriend, thought he was a corrupt cop,” Connor told you.

“Will or Jay?” You asked.

“Jay, Will is a doctor, and well you are a nurse, Will also hated your ex as well,” Connor replied. As you looked at him. Hanging on his every word.

You didn’t want to hear more about your abusive ex, so you changed the subject.

“What about us? How do we know each other?” You asked. This question seemed to throw Connor off guard. He looked at you with wide eyes. A shocked expression on his face. You raised your eyebrow at him. Wanting to know why he had that reaction.

It made you want to know the answer even more. Obliviously something went down between the two of you. Since he got nervous under your gaze. He looked away, delaying his response.

“I didn’t ask how you are feeling?” Connor asked. Avoiding your question by asking a question of his own.

This made you want to know even more.

“I’m fine, but you didn’t answer my question,” You spoke.

Connor ignored the last word you spoke. Taking his stethoscope from around his neck. He put the earplugs in his ear. Grabbing hold of the bell. Bringing it towards your chest. You grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Connor’s breath hitched at the contact of your skin on his.

He took a deep breath before speaking. Avoiding eye contact.

“We were friends… best friends,” Connor spoke. You gave him a confused look at how he was reacting. And how long it took him to reply.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Connor beat you to it.

“It’s complicated, we are best friends, but we had a friend with benefits kind of relationship as well, then it went downhill, then I left,” Connor spoke. Still avoiding your gaze. He looked sad.

“Because of me?” You asked. Voice-breaking. This made Connor finally look at you.

“No,” He responded.

“It wasn’t your fault, I didn’t leave because of you,” Connor spoke again. Grabbing a hold of your hand. Both of you gazing into each other’s eyes.

Just as you were about to speak the door opened. Making Connor get up. He stood up. Looking professional, as the nurse made her way into your room.

She arched her eyebrow at Connor.

“Just checking on our mystery patient,” Connor spoke.

“Your up,” She spoke. Directing her gaze at you, then back at Connor when he spoke.

“No thanks to Cole,” Connor grumbled. The nurse gave a forced smile. You could tell it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Doctor Cooper wants you for a consultant on one of his cases,” She spoke. Giving Connor a fake smile. Connor looked annoyed. He gave her a fake smile too. Before looking at you. Giving you a genuine smile. You could sense the tension between them.

“I’ll see you later,” He spoke. Giving you a sincere smile, before walking out of the room.

“So… what were Doctor Rhodes and you talking about?” She asked.

‘Not much, just asked if I could remember what my name was as well as if I could remember what happened to me?” You spoke. Lying to her. As she checked in on you.

“He seemed pretty close,” She spoke.

“He was just checking in on me,” You spoke. Making her give you a fake smile.

“Okay, I’ll check in on you later,” She responded. Giving you another fake smile, as she exited the room.

She quickly walked over to the nurse's station. Taking out her phone. Unlocking her phone. She quickly went into the messaging app. Pressing the conversation she had with Adam.

No budge. Though Connor and she seem pretty close She sent to him…

Adam gripped his phone tighter as he reread the message over again. He let out a grunt of annoyance. He was about to reply when the door to his office opened. Mr. Williams Daughter storming in. Roddy trailing behind her. Adam gave her a forced smile. Adam placed his phone on his desk.

“How can I help you?” Adam asked.

“Of course you are just sitting there doing nothing, you should be grilling that woman,” She snapped. Fists clenched.

“The truth will come out, we are doing everything we can, ” Roddy reassured her. But she just turned around to face him. giving him a deadly glare.

“My dad isn’t a kidnapper or abuser,” She snapped. Storming out of the office.

Adam picked up his phone. Typing a message furiously.

Spy on them. Listen in on their conversations, report back to me.

Adam smirked as he sent the message. He would find out who that woman was…

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Kyle felt anxious as he walked into the hospital. Fidgeting with his fingers. He heard through the grapevine, well Adam, the woman he saved was awake. Kyle wanted to visit her, to see how she was.

He walked over to the nurse’s station. He smiled nervously at the nurse. Who happened to be the nurse Adam flirted with.

She gave him a fake smile, which didn’t ease his nerves.

“Let me guess, you are here to see the woman you saved,” She spoke. Giving him a teasing smile.

“Yeah, I heard she was awake,” Kyle spoke.

“You can go see her,” The nurse spoke Kyle gave her a small smile, before turning around and walking to your room.

The sound of the door creaking made you snap your head away from the TV screen to look at the person who entered your room. You hoped it was Dr. Rhodes. But it turned out to be a stranger. You gave him an anxious look as you took in his features. He had brown eyes, a red beard, or maybe it was auburn and brown hair.

Kyle took notice of you looking at him cautiously.

“I’m Kyle, I saved you from the burning barn,” He spoke gently.

“Oh, well, I would tell you my name, if I could remember it,” You lied. You did know your name, you just didn’t know who you could trust other than Doctor Rhodes, which he is yet to tell you his first name.

Kyle let out a chuckle. Grabbing the chair and bringing it to the side of your bed. He sat down. Grimacing at the discomfort. Making you arch an eyebrow.

“You look better than when I first saw you,” Kyle spoke softly.

“Mmm, I don’t feel it, my head is pounding, I look like I’ve been through hell,” You whined. Pouting at him. Kyle smiled.

“But you are alive, that’s the most important thing,” Kyle spoke.

“I suppose, but my head is killing me,” You whined.

“Do you want me to go get a nurse? Maybe they can give you something?” Kyle spoke in a worried tone.

“Nah, pretty sure she hates me, I’ll be fine,” You gasped out. Bringing your uninjured hand up to your forehead.

Kyle felt his heart hurt as he watched you wince in pain.

“Do you remember anything?” He asked. His tone was sweet and caring.

“Just running through bushes and trees, then seeing the barn,” You reply. Eyes widening as you realized you might have revealed too much. Maybe it was how he asked you. Maybe it was those brown eyes staring intently into your soul.

Before Kyle or you could utter a single word the door to the room opened.

“Hey, y/n we’ve…” Connor started to say but stopped when he saw Kyle sitting next to your bed. Jealousy spiked inside of him. His jaw slightly clenching. The reaction didn’t go unnoticed by you. Maybe Kyle but not you.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had visitors,” Connor spoke.

“I just heard she was up, and I wanted to check in on her,” Kyle nervously replied. It was cute. Connor gave Kyle a forced smile.

Kyle seemed nervous.

“Um, I’ll see you soon,” Kyle spoke. Looking at you with a nervous smile, as he got up. You gave him a small smile in return. Watching him walk out of the room.

Your gaze returned to Connor. Giving him a pointed look.

“You seem jealous,” You pointed out.

“I’m not, I’m just worried,” Connor spoke defensively.

“Mmmhm…” You responded. Letting out a gasp of pain as your head throbbed.

Connor rushed over to you. Panic evident on his face.

“Are you okay?” Connor asked.

“Other than feeling pain in my head and body, yeah, I’m peachy,” You grunted.

“Carson is supposed to be giving you pain meds, damn it,” Connor grumbled at the nurse’s failure.

You gave him a quizzical look. Who was Carson?

‘Who’s Carson?” You asked. Voice sounding harsher than it was meant to be.

“The nurse that comes and checks in on you,” Connor responded.

“Oh,” You mumbled.

“I was going to clear you, but…” Connor started to say but you cut him off.

“I’m fine, it’s just pain,” You cut Connor off.

“You have had a traumatic experience,” Connor explained.

“I’m fine,” You huffed out. You would cross your arms if you could. So instead, you just pouted like a toddler who didn’t get their way.

Connor was about to speak but you cut him off.

“Please, clear me, I can’t take the taste of hospital food anymore, I mean the ice cream is great, don’t get me wrong, it’s the only highlight, but I’m bored sitting here,” You whined. Making your headache even worse.

“Ouch, and here I thought I was great company,” Connor fake sighed.

“You are…It’s just this hospital is driving me insane,” You huffed out.

“You’ve only had hospital four times,” Connor chuckled. While you just intensified your gaze. Pouting at him.

“Okay, fine, I’ll run a few tests before I give you the all-clear,” Connor spoke.

“Can’t we skip the tests?” You begged. Giving him a puppy dog look.

“Tests or hospital food for another week,” Connor spoke sternly. Making you let out a whine.

“Fine,” You sighed.

“And you are staying with me when I discharge you,” Connor spoke. Making your heart skip a beat.

Neither Connor nor you noticing Carson outside the door. She took her phone out of her pocket. Unlocking it. She quickly went into the messaging app. Clicking on the messages she had with Adam.

She’s being discharged. Staying with Connor. Kyle visited her btw, maybe you can use him as a pawn to find more about her.

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

After hours of CAT scans, MRI scans, CT scans, an echo, blood testes among other tests, among other tests, you were grateful that you didn’t have to take anymore. All you had to do was wait for the results.

Connor walked into the room with a huge smile on his face. Holding a bunch of clothes in his hands. you quirked an eyebrow.

“I got the results back, and you are in the clear, there were a few things that were a bit concerning but as long as you get psychotherapy to gain some of your memory back,” Connor spoke. As you smiled brightly at him. You sat up.

“Finally,” You beamed.

“I got a nurse to get you some clothes to change into, I got Rhys to buy some for you,” Connor spoke.

“Oh,” You spoke. Having no idea who Rhys was.

“He is one of the nurses who work here, and my friend,” Connor spoke. Connor placed the clothes on the bed. As you pushed the blanket back.

Connor’s hand rested on your lower back as you tried to get up. Connor assisted you.

He felt panic rise inside of him as you wobbled a bit. Your hand grabbed his arm for balance.

“Are you going to help me change?” You joked. Making Connor’s face turn red. He awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“Do you need help? Because I can get a nurse to help you,” Connor spoke.

“I’ll be fine,” You responded. Giving him a small smile.

Connor arched his eyebrow at you. Looking at where your hand was holding his arm for support.

You quickly took your hand away from his arm. Feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Alright, I will go get my stuff, then come back,” Connor spoke. Giving you one last longing glance, before walking out of your room.

You slowly took small steps towards the clothes. Slowly undoing the hospital gown. You cautiously put the clothes on that Connor gave you.

Just as you put the sweater on there was a knock at the door. Making you turn around.

“Come in,” You called out. Connor walked into the room. An amused smile gracing his lips as he held onto the strap. Keeping it from slipping. He was dressed in dark jeans, a top, and a black leather jacket. You quickly adverted your eyes back to his.

“Don’t laugh, It’s not my fault I have a sling,” You spoke in a pouty tone. Pouting at him. Connor let out a laugh. Walking closer to you.

“I’m not, I just think you look adorable, I discharged you while I was waiting for you to get changed,” Connor spoke.

“What would I do without you,” You jokingly spoke.

Not get beaten up by your toxic abusive ex-boyfriend, Connor thought to himself. He wanted to say that, but instead, he said something else.

“You ready to go?” Connor asked. Making you nod enthusiastically. He quickly walked to the door opening it for you.

You quickly walked towards him.

“Thank you,” You spoke. As you walked past him and out the door. Connor followed behind you. Catching up with you. you followed him out of the hospital and towards a car park. Which you assumed it must have been staff parking.

Connor took out his car keys. Stopping at his car. He quickly unlocked the car.

“Fancy car,” You commented on his car. Connor let out a chuckle.

“Well, it’s nowhere near as cool as what your car is,” Connor spoke.

“Shame I can’t remember it,” You sighed. Pouting at him.

“It was a Jeep Wrangler, the newer version,” He responded. Opening the car door for you.

“And he is a gentleman too,” You praised him. Making his cheeks blush. You may not remember the history he and you shared, but he did.

You quickly got in. Connor shut the door. Rushing over to the driver's side. Getting in and putting his bag in the back. Connor put the keys in the ignition. Turning the car on. Putting his seat belt on. Connor put the handbrake down, then put the car into reverse. Backing out of the car park. He put the car into gear then speed off.

Connor glanced at you now and then seeing you take in the surroundings. Connor smiled slightly. His heart hurting at what you have been through. He wishes he stayed in Chicago, he wished you at least called him and told him what your ex did to you.

Connor drove into a driveway of an apartment complex. Stopping in front of a garage.

“You live in here,” You gasped out. Mouth a gap.

“Yep,” Connor chuckled. Grabbing a remote from the center console. He pressed a button making the garage door roll up. Connor drove in. Pressing the closed button on the remote button. The roller door closed.

Connor chuckled at your reaction. Finding a parking spot. He quickly parked in the spot. Putting the car into park. He pulled the handbrake up. Turning the car off. Connor turned his body. Reaching in the back to grab his bag. While you exited the car. Connor took the keys out of the ignition. Getting out of the car. He quickly got out. locking the car.

“Come on, I will make you a nice dinner,” Connor spoke softly. You quickly followed Connor. Stopping behind him as he pressed the elevator button. The elevator chimed, as the doors opened.

Both of you walking in. Connor pressed the button to the top floor.

“So, is anyone living with you like a significant other?” You questioned.

Connor shook his head no.

“I haven’t been in the dating scene or been with anyone since Chicago,” Connor spoke awkwardly. The air in the elevator getting thicker.

“Really, because your hot and a doctor, plus you seem nice, least with me,” You spoke. Connor gave you a small smile.

The elevator dinged as it reached the top floor. Connor quickly exited the elevator. You quickly followed him. walking down the hallway in silence.

You felt slightly worried you may have stepped over a line.

“I’m sorry about that, I just…” You apologized only for Connor to cut you off. As he stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway. Taking out keys. He put them into the keyhole. Turning it.

“It’s okay,” Connor spoke. As he grabbed the doorknob, twisting the doorknob. Opening the door.

“I…Wow,” You gasped out as you saw the city lights out of the window.

“So pretty,” You gawked out. Rushing over to the window. Connor let out an amused chuckle. Shutting the door and locking it.

You looked around the apartment in amazement. Connor let out a laugh.

“I’ll show you the room you will be staying in, it has a bathroom,” Connor spoke, as he walked over to a room. Opening a door.

“A bathroom, wow,” You beamed. Rushing over to the room.

Connor smiled at your reaction. He quickly looked away.

“Why don’t you have a shower, I still have clothes of yours that you can change into,” Connor spoke.

“You kept my clothes?” You asked. Arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, from when you left them at my old place,” Connor mumbled. Cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. Why was he embarrassed he knew you.

“Thank you,” You spoke softly. Smiling at him softly.

“I’m going to make us dinner, clean towels are in the cupboard, Oh, and your clothes are in the tallboy,” He spoke, quickly turning around and walking out the room. Your heart beating wildly.

You couldn’t remember what you had with him, or any previous relationship, but for some reason Connor made you feel something. You felt a spark there.

“He is a doctor and can cook, damn, I missed the mark on that one,” You spoke in a dreamy tone.

You let out a heavy sigh walking into the bathroom. Closing the door. Stripping your clothes off.

Your eyes widen as you realized you have a sling on you. A curse slipped from your lips

“Ah, Connor I have a sling, could you get me a plastic bag,” You yelled out. Waiting for him to respond. But he didn’t.

You looked around the bathroom. Noticing a bathtub.

“I suppose having a bath will do,” You huffed out. struggling to take the rest of your clothes up. But eventually, you got there.

You walked over to the bathtub. Turning both taps on. Checking the temperature. Letting out a satisfied hum when it was the right temperature You put the plugin. Grabbing the shower gel. You squirted a bit in the water. Putting the bottle of shower gel down. You waited for the water to get a certain height; you turned the taps off. Carefully getting into the bathtub…

Connor tried to distract himself with making Spaghetti Carbonara, chopping up mushrooms, and bacon into little bits but failed miserably. You were invading his thoughts. It was killing him how he couldn’t just kiss you, but you didn’t have your memories of what he and you shared, and he didn’t want to scare you, let alone start something knowing you still had a boyfriend.

The spaghetti was already strained. All he had to do was put the sauce in. He poured the sauce into the pot. Putting the mushrooms into the sauce as well as the bacon.

Connor stirred the carbonara sauce around in the pot. Warming the sauce up. His mind wandering back to a memory he had with you.

A giggle escaped your lips as Connor’s beard scratched your neck, as he trailed kisses down your neck.

“We should just call in sick and do this all day,” You suggested. Making Connor look up at you tilting his head. He raised one of his eyebrows. Smirking at you.

“That’s a good idea,” Connor smirked. Pressing his lips against yours. The kiss turning feverish…

“I’m finished,” You spoke, in a sing-song voice. Making Connor jump. He quickly composed himself.

“Oh, smells nice,” You commented.

“Um…” Connor stuttered. He quickly checked if the sauce was warm. Thankful that it was.

“You okay?” You asked. Curious and worried.

“Yeah, you surprised me,” He spoke. Pouring the sauce into the pot that was filled with spaghetti. Connor quickly stirred the sauce around in the pot. Mixing the Carbonaro sauce with the spaghetti.

“Dinners ready,” Connor announced. Walking over to a cupboard. He opened it up, grabbing out two bowls. Connor went over to a draw. Pulling it open. He grabbed two forks. Connor turned around. Walking back to you. he quickly picked the spoon he was using. Putting the food into the bowl, before handing it to you.

“Thank you,” You spoke softly. walking over to the table. Connor joined you a second later.

“So, you said I have brothers what do they look like?” You asked. Breaking the silence.

“Well,” Connor spoke. Kind of getting caught off guard. He put his fork down, grabbing his phone.

Connor unlocked his phone, going into the photo app. He quickly pressed the see all option, scrolling until he found the album titled y/n with a red heart emoji. He quickly pressed that album. Scrolling until he found the picture of Jay, Will and you. While you ate more food.

“You were closer with Jay,” Connor spoke. Showing you the picture. You leaned in closer taking in the features of your brothers. One had brown hair and blue eyes while the other one had red hair with brown eyes.

“Because we were twins?” You asked.

“Probably, he and you had a weird co-dependent type of relationship, which surprises me, that he didn’t know who your mystery boyfriend Roman was,” Connor spoke. Making your eyes squint slightly. Trying to remember what Roman looked like, as well as memories with your brothers but nothing came up. You just made yourself get a headache.

“That’s Jay…” Connor spoke, pointing to the guy with brown hair and blue eyes.

“My twin,” You mumbled. But Connor heard you.

“Yep… And that’s Will,” Connor spoke again. Pointing to the guy with the red hair and brown eyes.

Connor noticed you grimace a bit. Your hand coming up to your forehead. Rubbing it.

“You okay?” Connor asked.

“Yeah, just tried to remember who they were, plus Roman,” You spoke. Rubbing your forehead.

“Leave that to psychotherapy,” Connor spoke. Giving you a small smile. Which you returned it by also giving him a slight smile.

The both of you ate in silence again. After dinner, Connor grabbed the plates, cutlery and pots, putting them in the dishwasher. He went over to the cupboard again. Grabbing a glass. Walking over to the sink. He turned the tap on. Pouring some water into the glass. He walked over to you handing you the glass of water.

“Thanks,” You mumbled. As he walked back to the kitchen island, grabbing a pack of tablets. He opened the box up. Popping two tablets into the palm of his hand, then spinning around. He walked back to you. Handing you the tablets.

“Oh, I’m fine,” You spoke.

“It’s your pain meds,” He spoke.

“Oh,” You spoke. Taking them off of him. you put them in your mouth. Taking a huge gulp of water. As you swallowed them. Grimacing at the aftertaste.

Connor let out a small chuckle.

“You’ve never been good with taking medicine or tablets,” Connor chuckled. His blue eyes staring intensely into your eyes. The intensity causes your lower belly to stir. Breath hitching. You may not remember whatever happened between him and you, but your body sure does.

“So, are you going to tell me more about your scandalous friendship?” You asked. Taking Connor off guard. He turned pale. Beads of sweat forming on his hairline. He scratched the back of his nervously.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked changing the subject.

“Let’s watch a movie,” He spoke. Rushing over to the joint living room. He turned the TV on. Going into Netflix. He quickly picked a movie.

“Okay…” You responded. Getting up and walking over to him cautiously. Sitting down on the same couch he was sitting in. wondering if you may have asked a touchy subject by he reacted. Maybe he just didn’t want to talk about it, maybe it hurt him to bring up the past. But the more you thought about the more you wanted to know more about what happened between him and you.

So you decided to try something. Connor didn’t notice you move closer to him. till he felt your body heat.

Connor turned to look at you. Your hands cupped his jawline. Eyes looking at his intensely. Closing the distance between him and you. Connor was hypnotized. Maybe it was because it has been too long since he felt his lips against yours. But he let you kiss him.

Lips moving together in perfect sync. Both of you feeling the spark. Warmth feeling the both of you. butterflies

Connor quickly realized what you were doing. What he was doing too. He pulled away. A look of pain came across his features. Your face dropped into a look of sadness.

“I can’t go down that road not when you are with another man, and not when you can’t remember the history between us,” Connor quaked out. tears pooling in his eyes.

“How am I supposed to remember someone I have no recognition of, let alone a relationship? I feel something with you it seems familiar,” You gasped out. Tears gathering in your eyes. It broke his heart to see you cry. But he needed you to remember him. it wasn’t fair on him nor you.

“I can’t,” He gasped out. turning around and feeling to a room. He shut the door. Sliding down it. While you sat on the couch. Falling back on the cushions. Bringing your knees up to your chest, and hugging them for reassurance….

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

You let out a heavy sigh as you heard the front door of his apartment close softly.

Carefully pulling the blanket and sheet off your body. Getting up. You walked to the bathroom. Stripping your clothes off. Turning the bathroom taps on. Putting the plug in. filling the bathtub up with warm water, as well as putting shower gel in the water.

You grabbed a washcloth. Stepping inside the water. Cleaning yourself off. Once you finished cleaning yourself, you got out. Pulling the plug out. The water going down the drain. You wrapped the towel around you. Drying yourself off. Then wrapped the towel around you again. You quickly went over to the basin. Brushing your teeth, then cleaning your tongue.

Once you finished cleaning your teeth, you walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Walking over to the tallboy. Opening the draw, that seemed to have your clothes. It hurt your heart that he kept your clothes, yet he doesn’t want to kiss you. You grabbed a pair of panties. Dropping the towel. You put them on with great difficulty. As well as the rest of the clothes. The jeans were the worst.

You let out a sigh of relief. Walking out of the guest bedroom. You saw a note on the kitchen island counter. Walking over to the counter. Reading the words on the note. Your psychotherapy appointment is tomorrow at 11 am.

You let out a sigh, dropping the piece of paper. He could have just told you that in person and not left it on a note. You needed air. But you didn’t have the keys to the place. You thought about it for a second before deciding to leave. It was the last unit on the top floor, and you could just wait by the door anyways.

You left his apartment. Closing the door. Walking towards the elevator. You pressed a button. Making the elevator make a noise as it went up to the top floor. Doors opening. You quickly rushed into the elevator. You pressed the lobby button. The doors slide closed. The elevator descended, till it reached the lobby. Making a chiming sound. The doors sliding open. You quickly exited. Sidestepping a woman, as she got into the elevator. You felt a little self-conscious as some people in the lobby stared at you. You felt a little relieved as you exited the apartment complex. You looked back at the building to see a name, but it had no name.

“Great,” You muttered to yourself. You hoped you didn’t get lost.

A cool hitting your face. You slowly walked down the sidewalk. Taking in the buildings and stores.

You weren’t really watching where you were going. Running into a woman and a stand of flowers. The flowers cluttering to the floor. The woman cursed.

You got up. Helping her out. The best you could.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized profusely. The woman took a good look at you before letting out an annoyed huff. Making you grumble.

“Course it’s you. Haven’t you done enough?” She snapped. You looked at her confused. Feeling slightly hurt by her words.

You were about to speak when you heard a familiar voice.

“Seriously, Norah, you don’t have to be a bitch, it’s not like she purposely set out to wreck your flowers,” Kyle snapped. Making Norah look at him. Clenching her jaw. Eyes narrowing into slits. You could tell something happened between the two of them.

“Of course, you would defend her, my father isn’t an abuser, he didn’t do this to her,” She growled out. Storming into the flower shop.

“She hates me,” You sighed. Kyle moved to stand in front of you.

“Don’t worry about her, do you want to go get coffee?” Kyle asked. Rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“On a date?” You asked. Arching an eyebrow. This simple gesture made Kyle’s heart race,

“Just as a get-to-know basis?” Kyle responded. Making you give him a small smile.

“Aren’t you working?” You asked.

“My shift isn’t until later on,” He spoke. Making you smile.

“Okay,” You agreed. Kyle flashed you a smile.

Both of you walked towards a small coffee shop. Taking a seat on one of the outdoor chairs.

“Say if it was a date would you say yes?” Kyle asked. Making you look at him in surprise.

“Well….I mean….I could be in a relationship or married,” You gasped out.

Kyle looked at your left hand. Seeing no ring occupied it.

“I don’t see a ring on your finger,” He replied cheekily. Making you let out a tiny chuckle.

“True… could have slipped off,” You spoke. Making Kyle frown. Before he smiled again. He was about to speak when a waitress came up to the table. Handing Kyle and you a menu each. Kyle and you smiled at her.

“Thank you,” Kyle and you both spoke at the same time.

Both of you looked at the menu, then ordered. The waitress wrote down Kyle’s order as well as yours. Taking the menus from Kyle and you. Telling the two of you that the coffees should be out soon. Then left to go inside the coffee shop

“So… what’s up WITH Norah and you? I mean I get she hates me because of that whole thing with her father, but I feel like there was something more, I felt tension?” You asked. Kyle let out a heavy sigh.

‘She is my ex, long story short, it was a horrible relationship,” Kyle explained. You gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I’m sorry,” You spoke.

“It’s not your fault, we were young and stupid,” Kyle sighed.

The waitress came back with two cups of coffee. Placing them down on the table in front of Kyle and you.

Kyle and you thanked her. Taking a sip of coffee.

“Y/n,” Connor gasped out frantically. Making you turn around. You gave him a slight smile. He looked frantic. Eyes full of worry. Hair was disheveled.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Connor gasped out. While Kyle raised his eyebrow. What has Connor your keeper?

Connor felt intense amounts of jealousy when he saw Kyle and you sipping coffee.

He knew he had no right to get jealous since he rejected your advances last night. But it was only because he wanted you to remember him. Remember what the two of you shared before he goes down that road again or tries something.

You quickly finished your coffee. Giving Kyle an apologetic smile. You got up.

“I’ll see you around,” You spoke. Giving him a soft smile. You turned around. Walking over to Connor.

Connor and you walked away. Leaving jealousy to boil in Kyle’s veins. He felt so crushed as he watched you walk off with Connor….

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Adam bought the tip of the beer bottle up to his lips. Wrapping his lips around the tip. Tipping of the bottle up. He chugged on the beer. Giving Roddy a nod, as he sat down on the couch next to him

“Well, today was exhausting,” Roddy sighed. Taking a sip of the beer.

“Yeah, still haven’t made progress with that case,” Adam grumbled.

Roddy grabbed Adam’s knee in a comforting gesture.

“We will find out who she is,” Roddy reassured Adam.

“Hopefully soon,” Adam grumbled. Taking another sip.

Roddy and Adam’s attention turned to the door, as Bobby and Kyle came through the door.

“How was work?” Roddy asked as they dumped the duffle bags they took to work near the hallway

“Eventful,” Kyle sighed.

“You’d think people would learn to turn the heater off by now,” Bobby sighed. As he sat down on one of the chairs. While Kyle walked towards the kitchen to grab beers for him and Bobby.

Kyle came back into the living room. Handing Bobby a beer. Sitting down on the couch. He looking dejected. Kyle twisted the cap off the beer bottle. Adam took notice of his friend's mood.

“Why do you look so down?” Adam asked.

“That woman we found in that barn fire on Mr. Williams farm, I had a coffee date with her, but then Connor came, and swooped her away. She must be staying with him, it’s not like I stand a chance against him,” Kyle huffed out. Feeling slightly better he got that off his chest,

Adam had to stop himself from smiling as he thought of an idea. He could finally find out the identity of that woman.

“You should ask her out again, woo her until she falls for you,” Adam encouraged. Kyle furrowed his eyebrows.

“I suppose,” Kyle sighed. Still not convinced. For one he didn’t have your number. He knew where Connor lived. But he didn’t want to seem desperate.

“Come on man, you’re a catch, don’t put yourself down,” Bobby reassured Kyle.

“I’m sure she sees nothing in Connor, isn’t he, her doctor? Bit unprofessional if he is still her doctor,” Roddy spoke.

“I don’t know they seemed pretty close,” Kyle sighed. Taking a sip.

“Firefighters are way better than doctors,” Adam stated. Arching an eyebrow. Kyle rolled his eyes.

“Look dude, if you like her go for it, you haven’t dated anyone since Norah, I want you to be happy, you deserve to be happy,” Adam sighed.

Kyle let out a sigh. Maybe he should ask you out again, try to get out of the friendzone.

“I’ll see if she is free on the weekend. I’m sure she has some sort of therapy, considering what she’s been through,” Kyle spoke.

“That’s my boy,” Adam boasted. As all four of them took sips of their beers.

Adam couldn’t wait to find out the information Kyle would feed him about this unidentified woman….

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Jay glared at Austin as Austin took the stand. He had a suspicious feeling Austin knew more than he was letting on. He had a feeling that Austin had something to do with his sister's disappearance, possibly murder. He hoped this inquest unravelled Austin’s lies.

Jay clenched his jaw as Austin started to answer the question. Will spared a glance at his brother seeing Jay fuming.

“I love her, I just wish Roman would tell us where he put her body,” Austin responded to a question Jay wasn’t listening to. Jay had enough. He stood up in a fit of rage.

“We all that’s a lie, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the one that killed her, you have abused her before. Which is why I think you kidnapped her and murdered her, then pinned it on some mafia boss she was dating,” Jay snapped. Making everyone in the courtroom turned to look at Jay.

“Mr. Halstead, sit down,” The judge spoke. Making Jay let out a grumble.

“No, he is the reason why my sister is missing. Possibly dead, if he claims he loved her so much, then why did he put bruises on her body. Laid his grimy hands on her. He abused her,” Jay snapped.

“Mr. Halstead,” The judge warned him.

“I did hurt her but that was my PTSD, I felt so bad after I hurt her. You should know that since you were in the military,” Austin spoke. Looking sad. Jay knew it was fake.

“Don’t use that as an excuse,” Jay shouted. Fury in his eyes.

The judge ordered the security guards to escort Jay out.

“I’m going to prove it was you, your lies will unravel, and the truth will come out,” Jay shouted as the guards escorted him out of the room.

Jay walked back to his truck. Fishing the keys out of his pockets. Jay unlocked the truck. Opening the door, and getting in. Putting the key in the ignition.

He wished he could have done more. His mind flashed back to when he last had an encounter with you before you disappeared.

“Y/n, open up,” Jay demanded. Banging on the door. You squeezed your eyes shut. Praying he would go away. You didn’t want him to see you with a black eye and busted lip.

Unfortunately for you, Jay didn’t go away. He pulled out the spare key you gave him. Putting it into the lock and unlocking the door. You cursed under your breath. Taking a step back from the door, as he opened it.

Jay’s eyes landed on you. He looked at you with a worried expression

“What happened? Who did this to you?” Jay asked. Looking at you with concerned eyes.

“Was it that new boyfriend of yours, because I swear if he turns out to be another Austin,” Jay grumbled. Concern turning into fury.

“No, it wasn’t Roman,” You sighed. Looking away from Jay. Glancing at the floor instead of Jay.

“It was Austin wasn’t,” Jay assumed.

“Course it was,” Jay grumbled.

“Jay, please, I’m handling it, he must have heard I was dating and he got jealous,” You sighed out. Giving him a pleading look.

“You are not safe from him y/n, let me handle this,” Jay spoke.

“I’m dealing with it,” You sighed.

“How are you dealing with it?” Jay snapped. Making you flinch. His eyes softened. His hands gently resting on your shoulder. Eyes looking into yours.

“I’m just worried one day you are going to end up in a body bag,” Jay sighed. You gave him a small smile.

“I’m going to get through this Jay,” You spoke softly voice cracking.

Jay went back to reality. He wished he did something that day. But he didn’t. But he was going to do something now. He was going to prove Austin killed you.

Jay turned the key in the ignition. Starting the truck. He quickly put his seatbelt on. Putting the handbrake down. then putting the transmission into gear. Jay pressed his foot on the accelerator leaving the courthouse to go to the 21st district.

Once he got there. He parked his truck. Storming into the 21st district. Not saying hello to Trudy as he walked past the front desk. He ran up the stairs. Punching the code word in. jay rushed up the stairs. Going into the bullpen. Hailey, Kevin, Adam, and Kim looked at Jay as he rushed into Hank's office. They all shared glances at each other. Feeling worried for their colleague and friend. Jay’s been on edge ever since your disappearance.

“I need your help, I’m hundred percent certain, that Austin Smith, murdered my twin sister, I saw her the night she disappeared he hurt her, she had a black eye and a busted lip,” Jay spoke.

Hank let out a grunt. Looking at Jay. He could tell this was wearing Jay down. he also had a feeling Austin wasn’t being truthful.

“I believe you, but if we are going to do this, we have to make sure we get hard evidence, bug his phones, keep this operation hush-hush, he is also a cop,” Hank spoke. Making Jay feel slightly better.

“We’re going to get this bastard, he is going to pay for what he did to my sister,” Jay spoke. Hank got up. Gesturing for Jay to follow him. Jay followed him.

“Alright, for now on we have one case and one case only, do not tell anyone else about the details of this case, you will not utter a single word about this case other than to the people in this team,” Hank spoke.

Hank looked at Jay. Jay nodded. Going to the whiteboard and writing y/n Halstead.

“Y/n Halstead, has been missing for a month, presumed dead, Austin blames Roman Reigns a mob boss in Chicago, for the disappearance of Y/n Halstead, Jay last saw her on the night she disappeared, a black eye and a busted lip, now we can assume Roman did it, but Austin has a history of hurting y/n, maybe he took it to far,” Hank spoke.

“We are going to bug his place, all his devices, till he confesses, gear up,” Hank spoke again. Walking out of the bullpen.

The rest of the team followed Hank. Getting ready to plant a bug in Austin Smith's house. The air was tense…

Hailey and Kim rode with Jay, while Adam and Kevin rode together and Hank drove alone.

“We will find her, Jay,” Hailey reassured Jay. Giving him a reassuring look. Jay tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Pressing his foot on the gas more.

“I just want her back,” Jay mumbled.

Kim and Hailey shared a look.

“How did the inquest go?” Kim asked.

“Horrible, he’s trying to play the victim,” Jay grumbled. Feeling slightly better as they all reached Austin’s house. He parked the truck.

Hailey was about to open her mouth when Jay got out of the car.

“He just wants to find her,” Kim sighed. As they both got out.

All of them slowly and tacitly walked to Austin’s house. Hailey, Adam, and Jay going behind the house, while Kim, Kevin, and Hank were out the front. Checking to see if Austin was home. When they found out he wasn’t. Adam picked the lock. Letting out a laugh of victory. Hailey, Jay, and Adam walked into the house, checking the area. Adam quickly went to the front. Opening the front door. Letting Kevin, Hank, and Kim in.

“Let's get in and get out,” Hank commanded. All of them nodded. Going off and placing bugs discreetly.

Once they finished placing the bug they all exited the house, Jay, Hailey, and Kevin going into the surveillance van while Kim, Adam, and Hank got into the vehicles. All they had to do was wait till Austin exposed himself…

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

You stared at the painting that was hanging in the psychotherapy waiting room. Waiting for your appointment. Technically it was CBT- Cognitive behavioral therapy, at least that’s what Connor told you last night. You were surprised he told you that. He has been acting weird and distant ever since you kissed him.

A woman who looked like she was in her late forties came out of the room. Then another middle-aged woman came out of the room as well. She gave you a warm welcoming smile.

“Come in, my name is Aurella,” She spoke.

You quickly got up. Walking into the room and sitting on the chair. Aurella shut the door. Walking over to the chair in front of you. She sat down.

“So, you’ve been through a lot, and since you suffered a brain injury and a head trauma. Your brain had repressed your memory. I’m here to help you regain some of those memories, like your name, life before coming here, and only if you want to what happened to you that lead you to have such this massive trauma,” She spoke in a comforting voice. You nodded your head. Giving her a small smile.

“First we are going to start small, we are going to start with your name,” She spoke.

“Lay down, and close your eyes,” She told you. You did as she told you to do.

“Now relax,” She spoke again. You heard paper moving.

“I want you to picture something that makes you feel calm,” She spoke. Looking at your body language.

You tried to relax, but your vision just showed black.

“Some people picture the beach or lying in a field of flowers looking up at the sky,” Aurella spoke.

Your vision slowly picturing the field of flowers. Strolling through the field of flowers, you hear someone call out your name.

“What name do you hear?” She asked.

Your mind pictured you wandering in a field of flowers. A voice saying y/n. you turned around to see a guy with an evil smirk. Your heart racing. You looked down to see blood. You could smell the metallic smell of blood.

Your eyes shot open. Breathing heavily.

“Are you okay?” Aurella asked you. Looking at you with a concerned look.

“Y/n, that’s what I heard,” You told her. Leaving out the part of the guy you saw and the blood.

“Okay,” She spoke. Writing notes down in the book she was holding. She looked back up at you. Giving you a warm smile. As she noticed you looked uncomfortable.

“I’ll see you next week,” She spoke. Standing up.

“It was lovely meeting you,” Aurella spoke. As you got up. She assisted you to the door. Opening the door for you.

“You two,” You responded.

“Take care,” She spoke. As you walked out the door. Giving her a small smile. You walked over to the receptionist. She looked up.

“I have you booked for the same time and day next week. No need to pay Connor, I mean Dr. Rhodes paid for it,” She spoke.

“Thanks,” You spoke. You turned around to walk out of the room, as well as the hospital. Walking through the town.

You saw the flower shop. Your eyes darted around, as you thought whether to talk to Norah. You decided to talk. After that image, you saw you had to tell her. Maybe she would hate you less.

You took a deep breath. Walking over to the flower shop. As you entered the flower shop. The door chimed. Anxiety bubbled up inside of you.

Norah looked up. Her warm welcoming smile disappeared as she realized it was you. She looked angry.

“Norah…” You started to say. But she cut you off.

“How do you know my name?” She snapped out. Your heart quickened.

‘From yesterday,” You gulped out.

“Oh, right, why are you here? What do you want?” She snapped out. Fury in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, for what you are going through, people accusing your father of hurting me, I know he didn’t do it,” You spoke in a soft voice.

“Then tell the cops,” She growled out.

“It’s complicated,” You sighed. She let out an annoyed huff.

Neither Norah nor you noticing someone was listening. Hiding behind the back room. That person happened to be Jey Uso.

Jey’s eyes widened in shock. Mouth a gap. You were alive. He felt a small bit of relief. He had to tell Roman.

‘You know what you can do, go away, everything was fine till you showed up,” Norah snapped.

“I’m sorry,” You gasped out. Feeling tears prick your eyes.

“Why don’t you do everyone in this town a favor and disappear again, this time show up in a town not covered in blood,” She snapped. Storming off.

You let out a heavy sigh. Turning around and walking out the door.

Feeling deflated. You walked down the streets. looking down at your feet.

“Hey,” You heard a familiar voice call out to you. You looked up to see Kyle coming towards you.

“Hey Kyle,” You greeted him.

“How are you doing?” Kyle asked.

“Alright, how about you?” You replied.

“Same, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out again, on Saturday, have some coffee and lunch, at the same coffee shop, only if you want to,” Kyle suggested in a nervous tone.

“Sure,” You replied. Making Kyle smile brightly. You smiled at him.

He took out a piece of paper. Handing it to you. You arched an eyebrow. Seeing numbers on it.

“It’s my phone number,” He spoke.

“Oh, thank you, I don’t have a phone, but I will definitely see you on Saturday, what time?” You asked.

“A bit after eleven,” Kyle responded.

Another voice called out Kyle’s name. Making Kyle turn his attention towards the person who called his name.

Kyle looked back at you. Giving you a warm smile.

“I have to go, I’ll see you on Saturday, take care,” Kyle spoke. Giving you a warm smile.

He took off running towards his friend and co-worker Bobby. Leaving you to stare at the piece of paper that had his phone number on it…

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Jey was beyond thrilled his shift at the flower shop was over. He was staying in a cabin with Roman at Norah Williams farm. She told him she needed help at the flower shop. So, he helped her, mainly to get on her good books.

He listened for hours on days while she ranted about this unidentified woman who ended up in her barn that burnt down. Jey thought it was interesting that there was an unidentified woman in the town. Maybe it was y/n since they didn’t find her body. Roman thought Austin killed her given he was the one that saved her from Austin. But Jey believed you were still alive, and he was right.

Jey stopped the car at the cabin Roman and he was staying in. putting the handbrake up. Putting the car in park, he turned the car off. Pulling out the keys. He quickly got out. Rushing out of the car. Slamming the door. He quickly ran to the cabin. Opening the door and slamming it.

Roman looked up from the TV giving Jey an annoyed look.

“How was the flower shop?” Roman asked.

“Interesting,” Jey responded. Walking towards Roman. Till he was standing in front of him.

‘I don’t think anything about a flower shop would be interesting unless you met a woman, who is she? You know we can’t stay long here,” Roman spoke.

“I found her,” Jey spoke. Eyes gleaming. Finally feeling happy he got that off his chest. Unfortunately, Roman thought he meant something different.

Roman rolled his eyes. Letting out a drawn-out sigh.

“Jey, this was a temporary thing, we can’t stay here, break up with her,” Roman demanded.

“I don’t think you understand, I found her,” Jey spoke again. Looking desperately at Roman.

“Well, I’m sure you will find another woman at the next town,” Roman grumbled.

“I found y/n,” Jey slightly shouted. Making Roman’s eyes widened. Mouth a gap.

He stood up.

“But he…” Roman gasped out in shock.

“She’s alive, though I think she was amnesia,” Jey spoke.

“Do you know what this means,” Roman spoke.

“Your innocent,” Jay responded. Roman grabbed Jey’s shoulders. Looking into his eyes.

“We can kidnap her and get out of this town,” Roman spoke. Making Jey look at Roman with confusion.

“But she doesn’t remember anything let alone her name,” Jey spoke.

“Doesn’t matter, I can’t lose her again,” Roman gasped out. Jey gulped before speaking.

“Then when do we do it?” Jey asked.

“We keep tabs on her, and when she is alone, we take her,” Roman spoke. Smiling at Jey. Bringing his hand up to Jey’s face and patting it out…

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Carson trailed behind Connor at a safe distance. Making sure she didn't get caught. She saw him go into a room.

She quickly pressed her ear to the door. Listening in on the quiet talking.

"Connor, I can't tell you how she went?' Aurella sighed.

"Please," Connor begged. Aurella let out a sigh.

"Her name is y/n, but I have a feeling she saw something else, just by how she woke up in a fright, I didn't persist because that wouldn't help her, given her current situation," Aurella spoke. Connor felt defeated you didn't remember him yet.

Carson smiled to herself as she found out this unidentified woman's name. She sneaked away, going into a supply closet. Taking out her phone. Unlocking the phone. She went into the messaging app. Going into the convo she had with Adam.

Her name is Y/n, didn't get the last name, but I hope that helps. She typed, then pressed sent.

A few minutes later her phone vibrated. She smiled as she saw his reply.

Thank you, it helps a lot. Adam responded.

She quickly replied with a kiss emoji before locking her phone. Putting it back in her pocket. She composed herself before walking out of the supply closet, getting back to work...

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Adam smirked as he reread the text Carson sent him. He finally had her name.

He looked at the screen of the PC.

"I got a lead, found out her name," Adam spoke, as he noticed Roddy walking into his office, holding a paper bag and a box with two coffees in it.

"Really, did she tell you?" Roddy asked. Eyes sparkling with delight. He placed the box that held the coffees on the desk. Putting the paper bag on the desk as well.

"Nah, a CI told me," Adam spoke, as he took one of the coffees, Roddy stopped opening the paper bag. Looking at Adam curiously.

"Right, is this CI Carson?" He asked as he grabbed his food.

Adam shrugged his shoulders.

"Be careful, I know you want to solve this case..." Roddy started to say only for Adam to cut him off.

"And I have, all I have to do is run her first name through the database, filter it to missing cases, and I have her identity," Adam spoke.

"Right, well I'll leave you to it, I'm on my lunch break," Roddy spoke. Picking up the box that only held one coffee cup now, as well as picking up the brown paper bag.

"Call me if you need me," Roddy spoke, as he walked away. Adam moved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

Adam typed y/n in the database, filtering it to missing, a few names popped up. He looked at every single one of them, feeling deflated. Adam pressed on another one. A smile gracing his lips as he saw the woman had the same similar facial features as you.

"Bingo, Y/n Halstead," Adam cheered.

Adam opened another tab, going into google. He typed in Y/n Halstead. Smiling proudly as he saw results. He went into an article. Reading the words that were written, he scrolled down, till he reached a video. Adam pressed play on the video.

A police officer looked up at the camera with sad eyes. Letting out a sigh before speaking.

"My name is officer Smith," Austin spoke voice full of pain. He looked down at the ground, letting out a sigh. He looked back up with glassy eyes.

"Y/n Halstead has been missing for months, her brother Jay was the last one to see her, y/n might be my ex, but I still care deeply for her. Y/n has been involved with Roman Reigns a notorious mob boss, I believe he may have caused her harm or killed her. Unfortunately, we haven't found y/n yet, but we are hoping if we find Roman and his accomplish Jey, we will hopefully get information on where he is holding her or buried her. If you have any information or potential leads please don't hesitate to call this number on the screen, as well as my number which is flashing across the screen. We just want y/n back Roman; we won't charge you if you cooperate," Officer Smith spoke.

Adam quickly paused the video. Grabbing a sticky note and a pen. He saw a picture of a woman showing on the screen as well as the numbers, it looked a lot like the unidentified woman.

He wrote both numbers down on the sticky note. Adam picked up the phone in his office. Calling Officer Smith's phone number.

Adam heard the phone ringing. Officer Smith picked up on the third ring.

"Hello, officer Smith speaking," Austin spoke.

Adam smirked leaning back on his chair, as he looked out the window. He noticed it was night time.

"Hello, officer Smith, this is officer Cole, I think I have some information on your ex-girlfriend, Y/n Halstead, an unidentified woman who came into our town, and after doing a little digging I believe she is Y/n Halstead," Adam spoke.

"Send me the details of your county and I will come," Austin spoke. As Adam smirked not knowing the danger that was laying ahead....

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Connor heard muffled crying coming from the guest room as he locked his front door. He quickly rushed into the guest room. Pulse racing.

Connor opened the door rushing inside the bedroom to see you hugging your legs with your uninjured arm. Rocking back and forth. Tears falling from your eyes. Your body was shaking.

"Y/n," Connor called out softly. His voice full of worry, as he cautiously came over to you.

You flinched as he neared you. Letting out a soft whimper. It broke his heart.

"It's just me, Connor," He spoke with a soft reassuring voice. You looked up at him with teary eyes. Lips trembling. It broke his heart even more.

"I remember what he did, what he did to me, how he abused me, how he hit me till I passed out, or maybe he believed I was dead," You sobbed out. Connor looked so heartbroken.

He quickly sat beside you. Wrapping his arms around you. You immediately fall into him. Holding onto him for dear life, as your body trembled.

"I'm here," He reassured you. His hand rubbing up and down your back. Rubbing soothing circles.

Whispering comforting and reassuring words to you. Eventually, your sobs subsided, your eyes growing heavily, slowly drifting back to sleep in Connor's arms.

Connor looked down at you with a sad expression. He was worried about you. Having you in his arms was too painful, especially when you didn't remember him or the history he and you shared. Connor delicately placed you down on the bed. Pulling the sheet over your body. Gazing at you for a second, before he turned around. Quietly walking out the door. He closed the door ever so softly.

Letting out a small sigh, he took out his phone. Unlocking it and going into the contacts. Scrolling down his contacts till he found Jay's contact. Connor pressed on it. Pressing the call icon. Bringing the phone up to his ear.

Connor waited till Jay picked up. When he did, he didn't wait till Jay said anything.

"Hey jay, it's your sister, she came to Florida, all banged up with no memory loss, and I'm worried about her," Connor spoke softly.

Connor heard heavy breathing.

"She's alive..." Jay gasped out.

"Yeah," Connor responded.

"Don't go anywhere I'm coming to get her," Jay spoke. Connor heard rustling on the other end, then a vehicle starting before he heard the phone cut off...

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Hailey exited the coffee shop. Holding the cardboard cup holder and a takeout bag. She had to beg Jay to take a break with her. Though he told the rest of the team to keep him informed. Hailey smiled politely at a woman as the woman passed her. Hailey heard a vehicle starting up, as well as tires screeching on the road. Hailey saw Jay drive off in a hurry without her. She quickly went over to a table. Putting the cardboard cup holder and bag on the table. She grabbed her walkie-talkie.

"Jay, what the hell?" She spoke into the walkie-talkie.

"I'm sorry, but I found news about y/n," Jay spoke. Cutting the walkie-talkie off.

Hailey was about to talk again when Kim's voice came through the walkie talkie

"Jay, Hailey, Austin got a call from a Florida police officer that y/n is in Florida,"

Hailey let out a relieved sigh, then felt a wave of anxiety wash over her at the thought of your ex finding you first. Possibly killing you.

"Can you pick me up, Jay must have found out first and left me here at a small coffee shop," Hailey spoke.

"Yeah, sure," Kim spoke, through the walkie-talkie...

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

You woke up with a gasp. Drenched in sweat. You looked around to realize you were alone. The house was quiet. He either left or was avoiding you or he was working. A frown formed on your lips. You slowly got up. Your temple throbbing as you did so.

You glanced at the alarm clock on the bed. Eyes widening as you realized it was 11:59 am. You quickly got up. Rushing to the bathroom stripping off your clothes. Turning the taps on to the bathtub.

You quickly did your morning routine, then got dressed. Rushing out of the door. You rushed to the café shop. Seeing Kyle sitting at a table. Looking slightly sad. He heard footsteps approaching him. He looked up to see you approaching him. His face lighting up with happiness.

"I am so sorry, I had a rough night, and I overslept," You spoke. Smiling at him.

"It's okay, are you okay?" Kyle asked as he got up. He was going to pull your chair out for you, but you already sat down. Kyle sat back down awkwardly. Ear burning red with embarrassment.

"Yeah," You responded.

"I have some news, Adam found out your name, it is Y/n Halstead, also, your ex-Austin Smith is coming," Kyle spoke. Kyle noticed your whole demeanor changed to a look of pure fear.

Your heart was beating faster. As flashbacks flashed of Austin hurting you. As well as beating you until you passed out. He probably thought you were dead, and now he found you, he was going to kill you.

"I have to go," You gasped out. Standing up abruptly. The chair clattered to the ground. Not that you cared. You rushed off leaving Kyle to look at you with a worried expression. You were not okay...

You ran as fast as your legs could take you. Passing people. Some of them looked at you like you were on drugs.

You felt a hand clamp around your mouth, then an arm wrap around your body. Pulling you closer to their body. You kicked wildly. Trying to free yourself. But they were stronger. They dragged you down the alleyway. You screamed for help. But their hand clamped down hard on your mouth. Muffling your cries for help. You saw Kyle in the distance, but he couldn't see you. Tears fell from your eyes, as they dragged you to the car. What if this person was Austin or someone he paid. Austin lived in Chicago. Surely, he wouldn't have come to Florida that quick.

They opened the back door. Pushing you into the car. They slammed the door shut. Walking to the front driver's side getting in.

You saw two guys turn to look at you. You shivered in fear.

"You're really alive," Roman gasped out. While you just whimpered, tears falling from your eyes rapidly. He reached out to wipe your tears away, but you flinched, moving back. Roman's facial expression turned into a look of sadness.

"Who are you? Are you going to kill me?" You gasped out. Roman looked at Jey. Before looking back at you. Making you even more anxious.

"I'm Roman, we were dating till your ex kidnapped you and tortured you, but your alive now and that's all that matters, this is Jey, my cousin" Roman spoke. Pointing at Jey who was in the driver's side. Roman glanced at Jey. Jey started the car up, the doors locked making you panic. Driving away. You passed Kyle, along the way. Your pulse racing. You didn't have many options, the doors were locked, the windows were tinted dark. Even if you did pound on the window, it's not like Kyle could see you. Your only option was to wait till they stopped at a petrol station and flee...

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Austin stepped off the helicopter that landed on a field. He smiled as he saw Officer Cole leaning against a car. He walked over to him with confidence.

Once he reached officer Cole. He stuck out his hand. Shaking hands with him.

"She's living with Connor Rhodes," Adam spoke. Making Austin's jaw clenched tight. Austin smiled at Adam.

"Then we should check there first," Austin spoke. Making Adam smile.

Adam walked towards the driver's side, while Austin walked towards the passenger side. Adam and Austin got into the car. Adam started the car, driving off. Adam sped towards Connor's apartment. Silence settling in.

Adam parked the car in front of the apartment complex. Austin got out before Adam could even utter a word. Adam got out as well. Catching up to Austin. Both took the elevator.

Adam pressed the top floor. Austin and him waiting for the elevator to reach the top floor. Adam could sense Austin was in no mood to chat.

The elevator reached the top floor. The doors slide open. Austin and Adam walked out of the elevator.

"His room is the one at the end," Adam spoke. As they both walked to the last room.

Austin roughly smashed his shoulder into the door. Breaking it. Adam looked surprised at the action.

Austin quickly walked into the apartment. Looking for you. Calling out your name but no answer.

He let out a frustrated grunt. Looking out the window. Clenching his fists. He Saw a few cameras scattered around.

He turned wildly around to face Adam.

"Do those security cameras work?" Austin asked.

"Yeah, I can get the tech to send me the feed if you want," Adam replied.

"That would be great," Austin grumbled.

Adam quickly did what Austin requested. Coming over to Austin once he got the feed.

"The tech guy sent me this," Adam spoke. Showing him the video. It was you running, then a hand grabbed your mouth. Pulling you into the alleyway. A few minutes later a car went out of the alleyway.

"Track the car's plates, put a bolo on that car, it's Roman, we have to save her," Austin ordered. As he exited the apartment. Adam hot on his trail. Doing what Austin asked...

• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Nerves ran through your body, as you made yourself look small.

Roman and Jey were talking amongst themselves. Roman turned around to look at you. He was about to speak when a car crashed into the driver's side, causing such force the car flipped over.

Glass shattered everywhere; the car rolled a couple of times till it stopped on the roof. Roman, Jey, and you all knocked unconscious.

Memories came flooding back to you. Your relationship with Austin, Roman, and you, when he first saved you from Austin, Connor and you having a friend with benefits relationship. Letting him leave Chicago without telling him about your feelings for him, Austin hurting you, walking to this town, your two brothers Jay and Will, everything came back to you in a rush.

Your eyes fluttered open, as you let out a gasp of pain. Everything hurt. Blood crusted on the top of your head. Nose bleeding. You were sure you dislocated your shoulder. Lucky it was the one with the sling.

You looked around your surroundings to realize you were upside down. Your hand reached down to your seatbelt. Undoing it. Suppressing a yelp of pain. If your shoulder wasn't dislocated before it definitely was now that you fell shoulder first onto the roof.

You crawled out of the car. Glass scraping your skin. You staggered to Roman's side. Pressing your index and middle finger against his windpipe. It was faint. Blood was running down his forehead. You looked past him to see how Jey was. Only to see the steering wheel embedded into his stomach. You reached over to check his pulse. But felt nothing. Your stomach turned. You quickly unbuckled Roman. Pulling him out of the car with great difficulty.

Roman's eyes fluttered open. He looked up at you with glazed eyes.

"Roman," You gasped out. Your hand stroking his cheek. Looking down at him with worried eyes.

"Y/n..." Roman grumbled out.

"I remember you," You gasped out. Tears pricking your eyes.

Roman smiled. Before coughing. You quickly accessed his body for wounds. Finding a large piece of glass sticking out of his leg. Before you could treat it, Roman grabbed your hand. Looking at you.

"Is Jey okay?" Roman asked. Making your pulse quicken. You shook your head no.

Roman's eyes watered. He opened his mouth to say something, but a sound of a gunshot rang out. Your eyes widen as you saw a bullet wound in the side of Roman's temple. You let out a scream. Shuffling away from Roman. Breathing getting heavier. You looked up to see your ex- Austin stalking towards you. You quickly got up. Running into the woods. Austin following you.

"You can run but you can't hide," He shouted. As you ran faster. Tree branches scratching your skin, you looked back now and then.

"Come on. y/n, let's finish what we started," Austin shouted. He sounded close. You quickly looked behind you, not noticing a root of a tree sticking out, your foot got caught and you tripped over.

You heard footsteps coming towards you. Looking around. Seeing a thick brunch on the ground. Wrapping your fingers around the brunch. You turned around to see Austin looming above you. You quickly got up. Swinging the brunch hard against his temple. It stunned him. You tried to run away but Austin wrapped his arms around you. Tackling you to the ground with such force it knocked the wind out of you. He turned you around to face him. Sitting on you, so you didn't escape. You tried to escape but you couldn't escape.

Austin looked at you with wild eyes.

"Do it," You growled. Glaring at him.

"I don't want to, but I have to, I love you so much, y/n know that but sometimes you make me angry," Austin spoke. Pressing the muzzle of the gun to your forehead.

Before he could pull the trigger another sound of a gun firing cut through the air. Austin's eyes glazed over as he slumped down on top of you. You quickly pushing him off you.

"Y/n," Jay gasped out. Rushing over to you.

Jay helped you up.

"Jay," You gasped out. As you wrapped your arms around him. Hugging each other.

"I remember..." You sobbed out. As Jay hugged you tighter.

"It's okay, I've got you, he can't hurt you anymore," Jay spoke. Pulling away from you. You nodded. Feeling slightly dizzy.

Jay looked at you with concern. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you fainted. Jay quickly caught you picking you up and rushing out of the woods. He didn't stop running till he reached his truck. Opening the back door, place you gently down on the back seat. He closed the door. Quickly going to the driver's side. Opening the door and getting in. shutting the door. Jay turned the keys, putting the handbrake down, he started the truck, pressing his foot down hard on the accelerator. Speeding off towards the nearest hospital. Speeding through every red light.

Jay stopped at the emergency entrance, hopping out and opening the back door. Grabbing hold of you. He rushed into the hospital.

"Help my sister, she fainted," Jay shouted. Nurses rushed over to Jay, taking you out of his arms and onto a gurney. Wheeling you off, leaving Jay to look at the doors they took you through...

Jay sat on the uncomfortable chair, in the waiting room. Waiting for news on how you were. He looked up as he heard footsteps making their way over to him. Jay glared at Connor.

"Jay..." Connor started to say but Jay cut him off.

"You could have called me early when she came into this town," Jay grunted. Standing up.

"Jay..." Connor tried to speak again but Jay cut him off.

"Is she okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, just a concussion, and a dislocated shoulder," Connor spoke. Making Jay sigh.

"You can see her if you want," Connor spoke. Jay nodded his head. As he silently followed Connor to your room. Biting his tongue.

Jay quickly walked into your room. Feeling slightly relieved.

"Hey Jay," You spoke softly. Noticing Connor at the door. Your gaze turned back to your twin brother.

Jay quickly wrapped his arms around you. Making you let out a tiny groan as he bumped your shoulder. Jay loosened his grip. Pulling away and sitting on the side of the bed. Looking at you through tear-filled eyes.

"Come back to Chicago with me," Jay spoke. Your eyes glanced to the door to see Connor wasn't there. Your heart plummeting to the pit of your stomach. You nodded your head. Jay smiled brightly. Glad you were coming home with him.

"I'm going to go get something to eat, do you want something?" Jay asked. You nodded your head no, Jay hugged you again, before leaving to the vending machine.

Jay took out some spare change, putting it into the slot. Pressing the number on the vending machine. Jay's eyes wandered off. Seeing an officer get treated. He quickly grabbed his food, walking slowly. He listened to the conversation. Hearing your ex's name being bought up.

"He crashed into that car," Adam spoke. Jay put two and two together. Anger rising within him.

"I'm so glad you are okay," A nurse spoke.

"You teamed up with my sister's ex, what is wrong with you," Jay snapped. Glaring at Adam, as he stood in the door frame.

"I didn't know," Adam gasped out looking at Jay with a guilty expression.

"I hope you have a bad time sleeping at night," Jay bitterly spoke. Turning around and walking back to your room. Seeing a guy with brown hair holding flowers stand in the middle of the hallway looking into your room, a deflated look on his face. Jay arched an eyebrow. Walking up to him. He looked at what he was looking at, seeing Connor and you talking. Connor was holding your hand.

"Who are you?" Jay asked. Making Kyle jump in fright. Kyle turned to look at the person who spoke to him.

'Kyle, I saved, y/n when she first came here," Kyle responded. Making Jay nod thoughtfully.

"Thanks, but y/n is fine now, she's going back to Chicago," Jay spoke. Making Kyle's heart sink.

"Um, can you give these to her," Kyle spoke, handing Jay a boutique of flowers. Kyle turned around and left, looking dejected.

Jay listened in on what Connor and you were talking about.

"Jay wants me to go back to Chicago though, but to want to give us another try," You spoke. Making Connor smile.

"Me too, I will come back to Chicago with you," Connor spoke. Making you smile.

Jay quickly walked into the room just as Connor and you were about to kiss. Connor and you glanced at him. You arched your eyebrows at him. He shrugged putting the flowers on the side table. He wasn't sure where Kyle and you stood, and he didn't want to jeopardize the relationship that Connor and you had.

"I got you flowers, and also none of that PDA stuff, I just got you back I don't need Connor to hog you," Jay joked. Making Connor and you smile. Letting out a small laugh...

A/N: FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED! You can also find this series on wattpad & ao3 links in the reblog I reblogged of this.

#chicago med x reader #one chicago x reader #connor rhodes x reader #roman reigns x reader #wwe x reader #undisputed era x reader

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separatist-apologist · 2 years

Text

A Christmas Prince

Summary: When reporter Feyre Archeron is sent to the small European Principality of Aldovia to cover the upcoming coronation of Prince Rhysand, she's mistaken for a royal portraitist. Deciding to lean into the lie in order to get a better story, Feyre is caught up in the drama and politics of Rhysand's life with no way out that doesn't betray them both.

This is based loosely off the Netflix movie A Christmas Prince and was my first full length Feysand fic so be kind.

This was also my Secret Santa gift for @arrowmusings and I hope they enjoy it.

You can find it on AO3: Here

Rated T for some language

Part 4/4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Feyre had never spent so much time sitting still while another person fussed over her appearance. Feyre barely recognized herself in the blue gown she wore though she wasn’t upset with what Mor had done. She still looked like herself, though her thick, honey brown hair was curled meticulously and her face was made to look shimmery and soft. The dress had been one of the gowns Elain insisted she packed. Though she’d been annoyed at the time, Feyre ran her hand down the tight bodice covered in soft blue beads as she stared at herself in a mirror. The dress itself had long, lacey sleeves and a boatneck line, was tight through her waist before fanning out around her legs and Feyre, for the first time in her life, felt like a real princess.

Beside her, Mor was dressed in red and was an actual princess, complete with the glittering silver tiara set atop her gorgeous blonde hair. She held out a jeweled arm, fingers grabbing. “Give me your phone. I want to take a picture.”

Feyre tossed Mor her phone, smiling wide. “You know, I could probably convince Cassian to steal another tiara if you like…”

“No!” Feyre said quickly, embarrassed at the idea. “It was just one night.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Rhys doesn’t have just one night.”

Feyre frowned. “What about all those articles on the internet—”

“Because the press is always right?” Mor replied just a hint too sarcastically. “Good genetics run in our family and there’s nothing the media loves more than a man with a good body and a handsome face being an absolute dick. Rhys gets mobbed everywhere he goes by gold digging royal wannabe’s who turn around and sell selfies and brief interactions like it was a week or month long tryst. Rhys hasn’t had a real…anything…in years. Then you showed up and…” Mor trailed off, grinning wide as if she didn’t need to finish.

Feyre shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. I’m…”

“Beautiful? Smart? The only person who has ever been better than him at anything?” Mor supplied. “Yeah, you’re totally right. What would he like about any of that?”

“He’s about to be King,” Feyre said, more to herself than Mor. “And I’m about to go back to America.”

“I hope not,” came Cassian’s voice from the doorway. He was practically bursting from his suit though he looked handsome all the same. “I like having you here.”

Just behind him, Azriel nodded solemnly, more in place in his suit, stunning if any man could ever be described that way. Their eyes met Feyre swore she saw pain flit over his features, that regret passed through his hazel eyes. It was gone before she could really study him and Feyre convinced herself she’d imagined the entire thing. She barely knew Azriel—what could he possibly be upset about when looking at her?

“If we don’t go down now, we’ll upstage Rhys,” Cassian continued, utterly oblivious to what was happening behind him.

“I would hate to make Rhys look bad,” Mor joked, accepting Cassian’s arm. More regret flashed through Azriel and Feyre realized she’d had it all wrong. Azriel’s disappointment was over Mor and how she didn’t seem to notice he existed. Feyre went with Azriel, trailing behind the loudly laughing and joking Cassian and Mor.

“What’s their deal, anyway?” She asked Azriel, curious what a princess and a bastard born nobody had in common.

“Her father hates how close they are,” Azriel replied after a moment of contemplation. “So she makes a big show out of how close they are.”

Feyre supposed that made sense though she doubted that was all that was happening. Why would Azriel watch Mor with such yearning and longing if he knew his friend was just helping her piss off her dad? Feyre was tempted to pry but Azriel was leading her down the stairs and the hall below was filled with courtiers and politicians and other people who seemed important. They didn’t need to overhear any of the gossip Feyre was interested in.

“Listen, Feyre—” Azriel began but Rhys appeared a moment later, utterly gorgeous in his crown and his suit and Feyre could hear nothing being said as she looked up at him. People were speaking, introducing him. Rhys’s eyes locked with hers and Feyre forgot there was anyone else in the room. There was only him, had only ever been him. He took a step down and then another and Feyre knew instinctively he was coming to her.

He didn’t make it. He was mobbed by others who had a better claim to him than she ever would and Azriel was tugging on her arm. Sound rushed back, dragging her kicking and screaming to reality.

“C’mon,” he whispered, taking her away from Rhysand. They went into a ballroom and it was just as cheesy as Feyre had imagined it might be. Tables draped in white were set on one end of the massive, marble space. Curtains hung over pillars and soft, twinkling lights made the room feel magical in a way Feyre couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“You’ll sit next to Mor,” Azriel murmured, leading Feyre to a table closer to the back of the room. She was sure she shouldn’t sit next to an actual princess but Mor didn’t bat an eye when Feyre took her seat and handed her a glass of champagne instead. Rhys didn’t look at her when he finally came in, Keir at his side and Feyre tried to pretend that didn’t disappoint her a little. He was busy, he was being pulled in every direction. She could be content to watch.

Rhysand took his place at the head table just beside Keir, the portrait Feyre had painted for him framed behind him on a stand. Every once and a while their eyes would meet and Rhys would seem to smile softly, a secret thing just for her.

He wasn’t the only one watching her. Keir, too, glanced over more than once which made Feyre squirm in her chair through the meal that was served. She suspected he knew what had transpired between her and Rhysand last night and it bothered him. If he hated Cassian and his daughter, what would he think of her?

“Feyre,” Azriel whispered when the plates were being cleared. “Feyre we need to talk about—”

“In a moment,” she whispered back, catching the subtle head nod from Rhys. Most people were standing, making their way towards the dance floor and for one terrifying moment she thought he was going to ask her to dance. She had no idea how.

Despite the crown on his head and target on his back, he somehow managed to get to the balcony without being seen. Feyre joined him, pushing aside breezy white curtains that somehow kept the cold winter air out of the warm ballroom.

He was waiting, body illuminated by hanging twinkling lights. It was terrifying to be the sole object of his attention. “You look…” His words trailed off and Feyre was tempted to cross her arms over her chest nervously.

“So do you,” she murmured, taking a careful step towards him.

“I’ve wanted to talk to you all day,” he admitted, closing the distance between them. He picked a curl of hair between his fingers, letting his knuckles brush over her cheek. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Feyre blinked rapidly, her heart pounding in her throat.

“I think there is something Ms. Archeron needs to tell you, too,” Keir’s voice spoke from the darkness. Rhys scowled when his uncle appeared.

“Aren’t you tired?” Rhys demanded furiously but Feyre could scarcely breathe. “Aren’t you bored of constantly causing problems, of being in my way? I want you out of this palace, of my court. I want—”

“And what of her?” Keir demanded, some of his smug countenance fading. “The reporter you’ve allowed in our midsts.”

Rhys’s face paled as he turned to Feyre, eyes huge. “Liar,” he said to his uncle, waiting for confirmation from Feyre. She couldn’t give it to him though she desperately wanted to.

“I tried to pay her agency for the excellent work she’s performed here and was told there is no artist anywhere in New York City named Feyre Archeron…but there is a junior reporter who covers pop culture…one who just so happened to major in art at NYU.”

“Rhys,” Feyre began but he took a step backwards.

“Tell me he’s lying,” Rhys all but begged. “I’ll believe you if you do.”

She couldn’t, though. “I…”

“Get out,” he said and Feyre didn’t need to be told twice. Shoving past Keir, Feyre made her way back into the warm, bright ballroom, slamming into Cassian halfway through the room.

“Whoa, hey, you alright?” He asked, Mor peering just over his shoulder. Her eyes darted from Feyre to Rhys, expression darkening.

“What has he done now?” She demanded, slinking around Cassian to confront Rhys. Only Azriel looked at her with any awareness. He’d tried to warn her and she’d brushed him off.

“I need a cab,” she told him, pulling from Cassian’s hands. Azriel’s expression became sympathetic as he silently turned his back to arrange for Feyre to leave.

“What happened?” Cassian demanded but Feyre was out, practically running back up the stairs. It took her too long to get out of her dress by herself, to change back into jeans and a t-shirt, holding her tears in as she did so. She had the sense to text Lucien, asking him to book her the first flight home without any context. Like he’d always done, Lucien just agreed and by the time she was packed and heading towards the entrance, Lucien had sent her the ticket without asking if she planned to pay him back or anything other than Are you okay?

No, she thought privately, miserable when Mor, Cassian, and Azriel were waiting just outside for her. There was sympathy mixed with disappointment on Mor’s face and stony anger on Cassian’s. Only Azriel’s remained unchanged and she wondered just how long Azriel had known and kept the secret.

“Write of us well,” Cassian asked, yanking open the cab door.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Feyre told them, wishing they knew. “Any of you.”

“Why did you do it?” Mor asked her, tucking a blonde curl behind her ear. Feyre couldn’t answer that so she said, instead, “I’m sorry.”

Mor nodded but it wasn’t good enough and they all knew it. Azriel offered Feyre a hug. “If you need anything…” he whispered in her ear, sliding a piece of paper in her coat pocket. “Call me.”

She didn’t acknowledge his words at all and instead slid into the backseat of the car. Cassian slammed the door shut and the driver took off, unaware that Feyre cried silently the entire way to the airport.

Lucien was waiting when Feyre arrived, standing just outside the doors beside a black sedan he’d either rented or always owned. He took her bag from her while Feyre climbed numbly into the passenger seat. She’d sworn she would remain stoic but the second he slammed his door shut she flung her arms around his neck and sobbed bitterly. It wasn’t like when things ended with Tamlin—Feyre wasn’t sure she’d cried at all, then.

“I loved him,” she sobbed brokenly while Lucien stroked her now limp curls.

“Did you tell him?” Lucien asked her. Feyre only shook her head. How could she after what Mor had said. Wasn’t she just another woman using him because of who he was?

“Come on,” Lucien murmured when sobs turned to hiccups. She didn’t realize he’d driven her to Elain’s until they pulled right up front and Elain stepped outside, arms wrapped around her middle and eyes filled with sympathy.

“I want to go home,” Feyre lied. She absolutely did not want to be alone. Lucien seemed to recognize that. He helped her out and took her to the steps where Elain waited.

“Want something to eat?” Elain asked, touching Feyre’s face softly. Feyre only shook her head.

“I want to go to bed.”

It took Feyre two days to get out of bed. Elain finally managed to lure her out with cupcakes and Feyre couldn’t summon the irritation she might have felt seeing Lucien sitting at the table already eating, frosting on his face.

“I cleaned some of your clothes,” Elain began, eyes darting from Lucien to Feyre. “And I found this in your pocket.”

Feyre recognized the phone number Azriel had given her sitting in Elain’s hand. Elain took a breath while Feyre took a bite. “Anyway I called him and I might have…called him an asshole.”

Feyre dropped her cupcake on the pristine table. “Elain.”

“I know it was just his friend but he said that Rhysand was just as miserable as you are, and that you should reach out and explain yourself.”

“And say what?” Feyre asked tonelessly.

“That you quit your job before he kicked you out—”

“I hadn’t actually quit yet,” Feyre interrupted Lucien with a little irritation.

“So fucking what? I’ll send him screenshots then. Intention counts, Fey.”

“I can’t.”

Elain’s eyes hardened. “Of course you can.”

“And if he’s still mad?”

“Then at least you tried, right?” Lucien prodded, his tone softer. “You said you loved him…prove it.”

Elain grabbed Lucien’s wrist and pulled him from the table after setting Azriel’s phone number on the table, giving Feyre space to think about what they said. Licking frosting from her finger, Feyre considered her options on how she might communicate to Rhys that while her intentions might have started off badly, she did love him, and would never betray him.

She wanted to call Azriel like Elain had, wanted to ask him about Rhys but her pride wouldn’t let her. So Feyre opened her laptop and did the one thing she’d always hated–she wrote. It wasn’t long or dramatic because in truth, Feyre had never been a journalist. She was an artist. Before Rhys, she could scarcely remember the last time she’d painted anything, and longer still when she’d felt joy doing it. Before Tamlin, certainly.

So Feyre went back home, calling an Uber to avoid her nosy sister and even nosier Lucien, pulled out her easel, and began to paint. She’d wanted to paint Rhys again but knew if she did, she’d miss him too much. She’d call him if she did, would blow up Azriel’s phone trying to reach him. So she painted Mor, and Cassian, and Azriel. She painted Velairs covered in snow and that cabin she’d first kissed Rhys in with his friends knee-deep in the white powder, laughing brightly beneath a yellow sun, throwing snowballs at each other. She could picture it.

It was New Years Eve when Feyre uploaded the painting and her short essay, one she’d titled: Prince Charming is Real, to twitter. She’d expected all twelve of her followers to see it though she texted it to Azriel all the same. He could decide if he showed Rhys or not. She had to be satisfied with that.

New Years Eve was at Elain’s. Feyre was surprised, walking in the door, to see Nesta standing in the living room, dressed to kill in tight black while Lucien sat on Elain’s cream colored couch, foot jiggling over his knee.

“Don’t start,” Elain warned, swanning in wearing glittering gold. She held a finger up, her warning to both of them, which caused twin looks of outrage.

“I’m just here for a little bit,” Nesta replied, glancing towards the door. Feyre was sure her friends were waiting for her at some impossibly expensive, chic club only the likes of Nesta could enter.

Elain scowled behind Nesta’s back as Nesta said, “You uh…you’re good, right?”

Feyre was saved from answering by a booming knock. Lucien’s whole posture seemed to bounce, then while Elain’s brightened.

“I’ll get it!” She offered, the only one moving towards the door at all though Feyre wasn’t about to point that out. Elain flung it open and Feyre’s heart nearly fell through the floor. Cassian stepped in, dusting snow from his flannel shirt with a grin. His whole body seemed light despite its bulk.

“You came,” Elain said with delight. Cassian’s eyes found Feyre’s and his smile softened.

“Of course I did.”

Feyre’s legs wobbled, taking her to Cassian for a hug. “Just you?”

“You fucking wish it was just Cassian!” Came Mors voice from the doorway. Feyre twisted to look at the beautiful blonde, killer in blood red and two bottles of wine in hand. “You can’t make me look that hot and think I’m not gonna show up.”

Azriel was right behind Mor, silent as always as he surveyed Elain’s apartment with quiet interest.

“Just…just the three of you?” Feyre murmured into Mor’s beautiful blonde hair.

“Sorry,” Azriel murmured, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“We tried, but…” Cassian added, clearly checking out her elder sister without bothering to hide it.

“He read it…we made him,” Mor added softly, plopping on the couch beside Lucien.

Feyre nodded. She couldn’t do anything else but knowing he’d read it and his friends had forgiven her but he hadn’t still hurt more than she was willing to admit.

“He’s stubborn, Fey,” Cassian told her, accepting a glass of champagne from Elain. “Give him time.”

“And space,” Azriel added, running fingers over Elain’s books.

“And if that doesn’t work…we’ll just beat his ass,” Cassian finished, walking to Nesta. “Cassian, by the way.”

“I don’t care,” Nesta said in a way that very much betrayed that she did care. Behind her, Elain rolled her eyes and sat on the arm of the couch where Lucien immediately put his hand on her thigh. Feyre couldn’t have done an entire night of the two of them constantly touching and was grateful Cassian, Mor, and Azriel were there. Even Nesta, prickly as she was, was a good buffer for brand new Elain and Lucien.

“Want to play a drinking game?” Azriel asked when no one else broke the tension.

“Can I invite some friends?” Nesta asked without skipping a beat. Elain nodded, jumping to her feet despite the heels on her feet.

“A few friends. My neighbors will kill me if this gets out of hand.”

An hour later, Feyre wondered if Rhysand might not come to see her just to yell at her and her sisters. Cassian was as close to Nesta as he could get without having her literally in his lap and Azriel had been eyeing Nesta’s friend Gwyn quietly from the kitchen doorway all night. Mor and Emerie had hit it off practically the first second Emerie stepped through the front door leaving Feyre, once again, the odd man out. She didn’t begrudge any of them a New Year’s fling but it chafed her raw wound all the same.

“Wanna go outside for a minute?” Lucien murmured after another round of cards again. Cassian and Nesta were battling for the ultimate winner, unaware they were just getting drunker and drunker.

“Desperately,” Feyre agreed, following him out of the oppressively warm kitchen. Snow was falling, their breath hanging in the air like clouds. She should have brought a jacket.

“They seem nice…even if Cassian keeps calling me Lucas,” Lucien told her, blowing warm air into his hands.

“They are,” Feyre agreed, suddenly terrified of what she’d do when they left.

“Are you thinking about—” Lucien cut himself off, looking wide-eyed over her head. Without another word or any kind of warming, he turned on his heel and went back towards the steps, leaving Feyre to spin wildly and come face to face with Rhysand.

He stood a few feet away, hands jammed in the pocket of his peacoat. Feyre froze in place, no longer aware of the snow or the cold.

“I uh…I got lost,” he said by way of greeting. “So it took me longer to get here.”

“You could have called,” Feyre replied softly, aware of how absurd the whole conversation was.

“They would have told you I was coming…I wanted it to be a surprise,” he admitted, taking a hesitant step forward.

“Rhys, I’m—-”

“I was stupid,” he interrupted quickly, coming closer still. “To listen to Keir, I mean. He was trying to unseat and me and would have said anything…”

“I lied,” Feyre whispered. “I was there to write a story about you.”

“But you didn’t,” Rhys replied, close enough to caress her face. “Even if thousands of people were talking about your painting and your essay.”

Feyre didn’t want to know her painting blew up, not then when he was so close to saying what she desperately wanted to hear him say.

“I don’t care why you were there,” Rhys continued, “I just want you back. Please, Feyre…come home with me.”

Time seemed to slow as Rhys fell to one knee in the snow, fishing a box out of his pocket. “It’s insane, I know and yet…and yet I wanted to give this to you at the ball. I’m in love with you. It doesn’t make sense and I don’t care anymore. All I know is ever since you left, I’ve been missing half of my body, my soul…it’s like you took the sun with you when you left. I love you, Feyre. Waiting a year isn’t going to change that.”

The ring was absurd and beautiful and old and yet still somehow perfect. She stared for a moment. “You love me?” She repeated, scarcely daring to believe she’d heard him right.

Rhys nodded, looking entirely too vulnerable at that moment. Bracing himself for the no she knew he expected.

“I love you,” she whispered, extending her hand so he could put it on.

He was back on his feet, crushing her to his body with a kiss hot enough to melt the snow around them. It was all she could do but cling to him because he was the air she breathed. If she was his light then Rhys was the stars lost to her in the smoggy, cloud covered city.

“Come inside,” Feyre asked him when he pulled away. “Come eat.”

Rhys smiled, beautiful even in the dark. “I’ll go anywhere you ask.”

She slid her hand in his and tugged him towards the door.

Towards forever.

#feysand #feyre x rhysand #elucien #but as always in the background #supportive best friend lucien #some pain #christmas feysand #IM FINISHED #feels good #also dont you dare come for me over this ending #have vyou SEEND the source material????#at least i gave rhys and feyre chemistry #more than netflix can say

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radicallovin · 2 years

Text

Sense And Sensuous, Ch.3

[READ IT HERE ON AO3]

Summary: It's 1984. Rhys Strongfork is the manager of The Lucky Striker, a bowling alley in Paradise Nevada. He wants more out of life than just his explosive on-again-off-again relationship with his high school sweetheart and running his father's businesses.

Handsome Jack is a cocky, arrogant mob boss who owns The Handsome Jackpot, an obnoxious, thriving casino on the Las Vegas strip. His life is exciting and violent, but beneath it all he's a vulnerable widow and father, trying to make it all work.

They both have a little slice of heaven that the other yearns for.

Chapter Three:

Eye In The Sky.

Rhys is rudely awoken by a sudden smack to the face, a suffocating heat-trapping him beneath its weight. He realises that it's Hugo's arm draped over him, but it feels more like a fallen tree, heavy and dead. Though Rhys has very high opinions of Hugo's biceps, they're not so appealing when they make Rhys feel unable to breathe.

He gently lifts the limb and lays it back beside the snoring man, sitting up as he does so and watches his boyfriend for a few seconds as he snuggles back into his sheets, rolling over. Hugo's always been a heavy sleeper. Rhys counts it as a blessing - his body clock usually has him waking up at the crack of dawn. At least Hugo can happily continue dreaming without interruption. He moves to sit at the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning. A whisper of white-gold light peaks through the closed blinds, wanting to break through, introducing the new day. As Rhys adjusts, his eyes greet the slither of sunshine, his heart and lungs expanding, ready for what his day has in store.

The hangover is distant, barely recognisable if even there at all.

After Rhys had rejoined Hugo at the casino, finding the larger man propped up against a slot machine with a troubled concern burning onto his face, he’d been quickly whisked away out of the club. Rhys tried to ask questions, but between the butterflies left from Jack and the sweat lining Hugo’s brow, he became too nauseous from the whiplash of the events. Usually, he’d be persistent, insist Hugo explain whatever was perplexing him, but he didn’t want to stop the euphoric fullness hugging his chest. He knew whatever Hugo did, whatever had left him a nervous wreck, it’d infect Rhys like a plague. He couldn’t risk losing the thrill just yet, he had to let the happiness soak into his bones so it would still be there in the morning.

There’s still a tingle, warm beneath his skin. A grateful smile forces itself upon him.

Rhys stands up from the bed, stretching out his long limbs. He looks down at himself and sees he’s wearing one of Hugo’s oversized t-shirts - it’s his Alan Parsons Project tee he bought a few years back at a concert. He's also still wearing his flamboyant pink and green socks, but nothing else. He looks around the bedroom floor and finds his boxers tangled up in his leather pants, alongside Hugo’s evening clothes. He pulls them on then walks out of Hugo’s bedroom, closing the door to leave him sleeping soundly. He makes his way down the corridor towards the kitchen, immediately taking the coffee pot to make himself some.

This was one of the most important reasons Rhys slept over at Hugo's house. His father wouldn't allow an automatic coffee maker in the house, assuming they were pointless, created by extortionists trying to steal his money. " You've got a working hand and a functioning brain, make it the old fashioned way! " Insensitivity aside, Rhys didn't have the mental strength to repeatedly argue with his father about it, knowing he'd never win. It was easier to buy himself an order to go from a coffee shop before his shifts at work. Thankfully Hugo had seen the appeal and invested, and that earned him some brownie points in Rhys' books.

Caffeine is a Godsend. It’d be easy to say Rhys is addicted to the stuff, but the way he manoeuvres life, it’s mandatory to rely on something outside of himself, to survive the trials and tribulations he can’t escape. Just the very aroma of coffee helps, setting the rhythm of the day. It’s a stable anchor of routine that keeps him calm and able to hold onto predictability, and in turn, an ounce of sanity. He pours the coffee out into one of the brown mugs Hugo has, practically salivating in anticipation for the rich, dark, and creamy taste. He brings the drink to his lips, blows gently to cool it down, and takes a longing sip.

“God,” He exhales after swallowing, a big content smile lifting his cheeks. “I needed that…”

Rhys takes his time with his coffee, savouring the taste. He perches himself against the kitchen countertop, warming his hands on the porcelain, thinking about the night before. The memories feel distorted. They're not dizzy and broken up by thick static-like usually when he's been drunk, but rather are thin and frail, blurred in a rushed fog. The evening doesn't feel like a real event, it went by so fast, he almost wondered if he had dreamt the whole thing. If not for the resemblance of Jack’s lips still fresh on his cheek, or the smell of his cologne under his nose, or the shine from a flirtatious wink blinding his vision, Rhys would chalk it up to a figment of his imagination, but Jack was real as the sun above.

After drinking his coffee, he starts getting together the things needed to make himself breakfast, quiet to avoid waking Hugo. He opens a lower cabinet to pull out some matte black frying pans, grabs the carton of eggs from the fridge alongside the pack of bacon, and lights up the stove. He wonders if he has time to smoke before Hugo wakes up. The taste will be evident on his tongue, but if Hugo's hungover the argument won't drag on. He scurries off to the bedroom, tip-toeing toward his leather pants and digging in the pocket to fish out his cigarette pack. He takes out one of the sticks as he walks back to the kitchen. Turning the knob of the oven stove to ignite the front burner, he places the cigarette to the flame until he sees a burn begin, and brings it to his lips to inhale deeply, securing the flame and taking the long-needed drag of nicotine.

As he begins making breakfast, he imagines what life would be like if he lived in the lap of luxury. Professional gourmet chefs who'd make him anything his heart desired - it'd be a miracle if he maintained his sticky slim figure in such a circumstance - and butlers who made sure he didn't lift a finger, taking care of the boring responsibilities everyone has to. Chores would be a thing of the past. Maybe that's why his parents had him in the first place, to train someone into being their worker.

When Rhys was really little, his relationship with his mother had been much more positive. She'd been a naturally doting mother, completely devoted to the role like she'd been waiting her whole life for the chance. He remembers how when she'd start prepping dinner, she'd sit him up on the kitchen counter so he could watch her, and listen endlessly to his babbling, nonsensical stories. He was enchanted by every little thing she did, wishing to work alongside her like a sous chef. Sometimes she'd give him the chopped up vegetables to put in the large pot, or would help him stir broths or soup.

He's not sure why things changed, but their relationship seemed to turn sour around his 10th birthday. It had been gradual at first - how she'd brush him off with excuses of being tired, or forgetting to ask how he was when he got home from school - but the day which was supposed to be a joyous event turned dark and dreadful, a memory that stings still to this day, as much as the raw impact of his mother's palm. She'd been so unbelievably angry about something, and Rhys was confused, panicking at the sight of his dear mother with tears flooding down her cheeks. Maybe he'd been too persistent to find out what was wrong, pushing her over the edge with his annoying childish tone worrying over her.

As an adult though, Rhys realises that slapping him was absolutely an overreaction, no matter the situation.

He still has no idea why she did such, or why she'd been so upset. Immediately afterwards, she stood before him with wide broken eyes, shattered by her actions and frozen in a life-changing depression that suddenly took over her soul in that very moment. Crooked party hat on top of his head, a hand holding his tender red cheek, and tears welling in his eyes as he looked back at her with quizzical betrayal. She held her hands out to console him - apologies for hurting the one person she should never - but Rhys instinctively flinched away, suddenly afraid, in a way he didn't realise was possible.

The only thing about his mother he still recognises from the sacred days is the content, blissful glow that halos her when she cooks. When she's alone in the kitchen, hands busy prepping meals, mind focused on the steps to a recipe, the caring, angelic woman he once adored returns. He feels his heart swell up with child-like nostalgic longing, wishing he could still smile with her, feel her love like a blazing inferno; it's been like an ice wall ever since the incident.

Bacon sizzles like static on the radio, filling the air with its delectable, mouthwatering aroma. Rhys holds his cigarette with one hand, takes long inhales every few minutes, and fries his food with the other hand. His concentration stops him from hearing footsteps behind him, only aware of Hugo's presence when his bulky arms wrap around his waist, pressing himself firmly against Rhys' back. He jolts in shock.

"If your food didn't smell so good I might be mad about you smoking." His voice is gruff, still ragged from the sleep coursing through his body. Rhys' heart seizes for a split second, but the low growl rumbling against his neck alongside Hugo's line of kisses calms his panic. He takes another long drag and blows out the excess smoke into the air.

"I think you're the only red-blooded American man I know who doesn't smoke," Rhys retorts, teasing him. Hugo's laugh that follows is muffled, and following suit is the feeling of his hips not so subtly grinding against him eagerly. The outline of his erection is evident, Rhys feels an overwhelming rush of warmth flood his body, boiling most down south to elicit his arousal.

"You look like such a well-trained housewife like this," Hugo muses, kisses becoming more heated and hard against Rhys' neck. "I should buy you a special apron for cooking...mm, imagine waking up to that, you wearing a frilly apron and nothing else."

Rhys isn't so fond of the image himself, admittedly, but he falls victim to the blood flowing down his body nevertheless. He hums in some sort of agreement, arching his back to press further into Hugo. The thick, square digits dig into Rhys' hips possessively, pulling him in harder against Hugo's concealed hard-on, desperately. Rhys chuckles softly under his breath, haphazardly looking over his shoulder to see the messy bed head of his boyfriend.

"If you're not careful, I'll end up burning your breakfast--" he's suddenly spun around on the spot, pulled in for a feverish hasty kiss; almost dropping his cigarette in his hand to the tiled floor. Hugo still tastes of the stale beer he'd drunk the night before, and Rhys is glad to have filled his mouth and lungs with nicotine, giving back something Hugo will detest just as much if not more. He falls in line with the kiss though, melting against Hugo's broad body and giving back as much lust as he can muster. They exchange muffled moans, eager for the other no matter how much they're already receiving.

"Last night was incredible," Hugo says between kisses, voice low and gruff and laced in carnal, animalistic desire. "Fucking that pretty little ass of yours...it's damn addicting."

Rhys pulls back and holds Hugo's face, heavy breath pouring over his flushed expression. He smirks, eyes connecting before he spins back around to the stove so he can turn it off. He takes another much longer drag of his cigarette before putting it out on the cold tile surface of the countertop. Hugo continues grinding relentlessly against the cleft of his ass like his life depends on it.

"I'm glad you think so highly of it," Rhys spins out of Hugo's space and leads him toward the bar stools at the breakfast counter, sitting him down before getting a plate to serve his breakfast on. "Maybe if you're good, I'll let you go again after breakfast." He sets the plate down in front of him.

"Wow," Hugo sounds genuinely surprised, and possibly ever so slightly confused. Rhys turns around to prepare his own plate. He can imagine Hugo's expression clear as day, dumbfounded and sceptical, though hopeful all the same. "You really enjoyed last night then, huh?" Rhys smugly laughs to amuse Hugo, scraping the fried food out of the pan onto his plate.

The night out had been typical as far as Hugo was concerned, right up to the point they crossed the threshold of his home, when Rhys pounced on him, hands tugging his shirt in a frenzy to undress. To Hugo, it must have felt like he'd tripped back in time to their high school lovebirds era when Rhys had been unable to resist him. Sex used to be constant for them, back when everything was exciting and new and not bitterly bruised. Now it's infrequent when he has the energy. Sure, Rhys still enjoys their sex - for all Hugo's faults, he's decent enough in bed, and when Rhys needs it, he suffices - it's just draining to muster up the willpower, to be intimate and affectionate with what feels like the grotesque doppelganger of the prince he once adored.

Rhys figured after fantasising about a perfect stranger, he owed Hugo. Even though he didn't have any suspicions of Rhys' imaginative infidelity, he felt compelled to pay his guilt forward. Sex has always been the best sedative between them.

Plus after meeting Jack, someone who made Rhys' knees go weak and his heart almost skip a beat, he was gagging for something physical. He could still feel the heavy tension weighing him down from last night, after Jack leaned in to kiss him, imprinting his cheek with the kind of tender affection he didn’t realise he’d been starving for. In the car ride home, with the quiet prominent between Rhys and Hugo, his nerves rumble, ready to revolt, desperate to sedate the hunger now painfully obvious. He didn’t know what else to do - Hugo was there, available, willing, and with his face pressed into the mattress, he could imagine someone else in Hugo’s place...

If he knew Rhys had been imagining another man last night, he'd have an aneurysm.

He’d probably have left Rhys’ face black and blue; overwriting the sweet touch of Jack’s lips against his skin.

He stands opposite Hugo at the breakfast bar and eats slowly, taking the final drags of his cigarette before stumping it out in the sink. Hugo half-heartedly chastises him again for his habit, but it doesn’t go very far, much to Rhys’ relief. They talk casually, discussing bowling, pondering the idea of renting a movie for a date night. It’s one of those times where everything between them is good. The air isn’t tense, the resentment isn’t heavy - everything is docile and peaceful, and Rhys has to remind himself tenfold not to fall for it so hard as he has in the past. When things are good, they feel great. Dream-like, perfect, wondrous, it’s what Rhys wants every day with Hugo, the ease and fun of a partner he can enjoy. He lets his guard down, ready for the moment to be forever.

He knows better now, though. Hugo’s moments of good should be savoured when they happen, cherished before they crumble. He can't hold out hope that they'll stick around for good.

God, that's depressing, why do I stay with him?

That's a thought for another day when things aren't good. Right now he's content to enjoy the idle chit chat over breakfast, listening intently as Hugo rambles about whatever pops into mind.

Afterwards, Rhys is cleaning up the kitchenware used while Hugo showers. He'd been offered to join, and considered it for a second, still thriving from the high of yesterday, but turned it down. Sleeping with Hugo so soon would result in pretending he was once again in Jack's company, and thinking about Jack in favour of his reality - replacing Hugo - felt like playing with fire.

Rhys couldn’t understand why such a minimal interaction had left such a strong impression on him, to the point that every other thought in his head came back to Jack. The warmth of the dish soap reminds him of the comforting heat radiating from Jack, pressed up against Rhys as he got close and personal. Turning on the small boombox radio and singing along, he’s transported back to the club, and the way Jack greeted him. Even when there’s nothing to spark a memory, Rhys finds a way to insert Jack and keep the fantasy alive.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, got it?”

Who was Jack? Why did he seem so intrigued by Rhys of all people? He was so confident their paths would cross again as if he could tell the future. Barely 24 hours later, he is thinking about a reunion, getting answers to questions he has yet to think up, and importantly to once again feel that rush of endorphins he got from just being in Jack's presence.

He can't go back to the club with Hugo - that would be stupid on so many levels. Should he even really go back at all, to visit someone that's a perfect stranger? If he was smart, he'd stay away, leave the curiosities to gather dust.

Perhaps Rhys is just looking for anything to spice up his life. The mundane repetitive cycle of his days drawing in and out like tides on the shore are almost hypnotically monotonous. It's the same old annoyances and pleasantries keeping him afloat - something different is like a jewel to a magpie. Jack is his jewel.

Rhys thinks for a second to remember the last time something different occurred in his life, that which stuck out the same way this sticks out has his whole heart and soul captivated. It's been too long, and it feels too good, to have a difference occur. Something potentially so scandalous too, when things have been unknowingly boring…

He purses his lips to think, holding a pan in half the soapy water. He shouldn't go alone, just in case anything happens, or Jack's not there. If it's a bust, he should have company - but not Hugo.

Maybe Vaughn…

Though he can already hear Vaughn's neuroticism ringing through his ears. The pesters of worries, even worse if he's left alone. Rhys would need an extra buffer. There's Sasha and Fiona, but they would never approve of him seeking out a mysterious rich bachelor when for all intents and purposes he's got a boyfriend. The only other person he can think of inviting would be August, which he ponders, and can’t come up with many negatives. August probably wouldn’t be all that interested in Rhys’ intentions, favouring hard liquor and dancing, and he’d be the perfect buffer to any of Vaughn’s potential concerns.

He looks over his shoulder. The faint out-of-tune singing of Hugo and the shower’s water is present. He moves to grab Hugo’s house phone, taking the base of the home phone over to the sink. He balances the receiver between his shoulder and ear, dialling the business. It rings a few times before being answered.

"You're through to The Lucky Striker, this is Vaughn speaking, how may I help?"

Rhys scrubs the pan in the water. "Hey dude, it's Rhys. Calling to check on the business."

He can practically hear Vaughn's body deflate over the line. "Hey bro...not much to report. People have been in and out all day, everyone's still alive. Sasha is still sulking about closing yesterday."

"I'd be surprised if she wasn't."

Vaughn laughs. "How was your night?"

"Good, good, I'm at Hugo's now."

"The phone's not bugged, is it?" Vaughn jokes, though his question has some genuine concern that Rhys knows lingers in the question.

"As if! Hugo's in the shower right now, we're safe."

"Right…" There's clattering the other end and a loud, triumphant collection of cheers in the distance. Vaughn claps and shouts his enthusiastic support before speaking again. "So gimme the deets, how awful was it really?"

Rhys scoffs. It's not a ridiculous question by any means, since most of his evening galavanting with Hugo results in Vaughn getting an earful the next day. He looks over his shoulder toward the hallway leading to the bathroom. "Honestly? It was surprisingly good." He turns around and leans against the counter, grabbing the dish towel to dry his hands. "Hugo was Hugo, of course, no surprise, but it was a rad place…", he clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, "we, uh...we should go sometime…soon."

There's a laugh on the other end before a long pause. "Oh, you're serious? Dude, We don't gamble."

"No, but it's got a club too," a strip club he conveniently leaves out. "And it's something new to do! We can go with August, too, since it's been, like, forever since we had a guys night." Rhys plays with the cord of the phone around his finger, chewing his bottom lip as he awaits a level of enthusiasm from his best friend he knows won't emerge.

"There's something you're not telling me, Rhys."

Vaughn's smart, and truly in tune with Rhys. He can picture the tightly knitted frown on his smug face, waiting for the truth that Rhys coyly holds back on revealing like a sneaky, devious child.

“You’re a real conspiracist sometimes, buddy. Don’t you want to have a good time out with your good pals? Cut loose like we did when we were teenagers?”

“Oh, like, drinking so much vodka you end up in the alleyway behind some dive bar with 3 middle-aged men doing lines of coke off of one another?” Vaughn scoffs sarcastically, harshly enough the tone pounds Rhys in the gut.

He retaliates by snorting defensively. “I’d just had my heart broken, Vaughn, cut me some slack.”

“Yeah, yeah, all your benders are because of that tool you insist on dating. Cut the crap, bro. Why do you really want to go?”

Rhys rolls his eyes, though he’s not that disheartened to reminisce. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and lets out a heavy exhale, lowering his voice to a mousey whisper. "I met this guy at the bar." A soft rosy blush creeps over his cheeks as the memory re-materialises as reality once again.

"You met a guy? Obviously Hugo wasn't around for that."

"Duh. He was being a loud jackass so I snuck away to get a drink in peace. This guy, Jack …seemed cool, and hot...and rich."

"Are you someone's sugar baby or something-- why does it matter if he's hot and rich?"

Rhys rolls his eyes. "It doesn’t matter. Not really, but…it was exciting." Rhys looks down the hallway and lowers his voice even more so. "He even kissed me."

"He WHAT?!" Vaughn exclaims, and there's a clutter of him dropping something on the other end, followed by a barrage of muffled apologies. Rhys laughs, talking while waiting for Vaughn to get himself together and rejoin their conversation.

"I don't even know how it happened. One minute we're just talking, next minute he's stealing a lighter for me! It was totally crazy, but... exciting, you know?"

He pulls the pan out from the soapy sink and rests it in the dish rack, following suit with each of the plates and cutlery. He basks in the mundane quiet of this miscellaneous task, grateful for the company of warm water and creamy dish soap when all the world is put on pause. He pretends the whole place is his own, and he’s all alone, enjoying being an adult with a story that made him feel blissful and alive. There’s no screaming. The ease is breathtaking.

That’s until Vaughn’s heavy exhale weighs down on Rhys, following with: “And you think it’s a good idea to see him again?” The judgement in his voice reminds Rhys exactly where he is. The dreamy euphoria of basking in a fantasy pops like the bubbles in the sink. His heart tightens, lodging in his throat. He grips the phone tight in his hand and looks over his shoulder, staring down the hallway.

Hugo could walk out any minute now.

“I want to see if it meant something,” Rhys says delicately, wrapping the phone cord around his fist and holding it near to his chest. “I haven’t been this excited about anything in, like, forever. Not since high school, when I thought me and Hugo were…” He stops, the words getting lodged in his throat. Dark clouds surround those memories, and he fears the torrential downpour if he falls through the depressive spiral. He shakes his head as if to knock the flashbacks out of his head, and drops his shoulders, relaxing all his muscles from their knots. “I need to do something different for once. Not another night counting the business taxes, or drinking at August’s place while he fights with Sash, or being demeaned by my dad or boyfriend or whoever! I…I think I need this.”

The change of pace could be his morphine. Every passing year, further cementing him in the cold, depressing realm of adulthood, he loses a piece of his soul. He’s always been a little more fragile than others, but his stubbornness kept him glued together, barely. Pain’s become so common he doesn’t even notice its after-effects until it’s too late when he’s already breathless and rotting - but the one moment he had to feel special and to be happy, felt as electrical as a defibrillator.

Vaughn’s silence tailors Rhys’ brain like silken thread.

"Okay,” Vaughn sighs, “Let’s stop talking about this over the phone when you’re at Hugo's place, he might hear you."

Rhys huffs. "He's got his radio in the bathroom with him, it's fine--"

"No, for real, let's…let’s talk later."

Rhys rolls his eyes but ultimately agrees. "We can meet at August's bar tonight, fill him in on the plan."

"Works for me. I'll be there for 8. Do not get yourself killed before then!"

Rhys scoffs as he hangs up and finishes up tidying. He puts Hugo's kitchenware away and wipes down the counter of any messes made, then heads for the bedroom. He replaces the oversized shirt he'd borrowed with his own clothes from last night, patting himself down. He looks in the mirror and groans at the sight of his hair a dishevelled mess, completely wrecked from sleep. Long locks curtain his face, fluffy and unkept, and tufts stick out of place. He tries flattening them with his palm but they push out persistently, annoying him.

He hears the bathroom door unlock, and makes his way toward it. Hugo stands in the doorway, completely naked and dripping wet, a towel around his neck. He grins mischievously, eyeing Rhys up and down.

"Can't get enough of me, huh?" He says, cocky and arrogant, pulling Rhys in to kiss him feverishly. Rhys is shocked by the assault. He rests his hands against Hugo's shoulders and kisses back tentatively. When Hugo pulls back, he growls. His hands lower to Rhys' rear, squeezing his cheeks fondly. "You know it looks good on you."

Rhys snorts, raising a brow. "What does?"

"The extra weight." Hugo lets Rhys go and spanks him hard, walking off proudly into his bedroom. Rhys is left dumbfounded, blinking rapidly as the words settle.

"Extra wei-- have I gained weight?" He asks in a fluster, staring at Hugo as he grabs his clothes for the day. Hugo scoffs, looking back at Rhys while throwing a pair of shorts onto the bed. He takes his towel and starts drying his hair.

"A little. Your ass feels fuller, anyway." He throws the towel over the bed frame and pulls open another drawer. "It's a positive thing, babe."

Rhys frowns, wanting to shrink into himself suddenly. He does his best to ignore the insecurities crawling up his spine, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.

"Well anyway-- do you have any hair gel I can borrow?"

Hugo arches his brow but points toward the bathroom. "In the mirror cabinet."

Rhys promptly walks toward the bathroom and takes out the tub of gel in question. With one hand he scoops up a modest amount of gel, and with the other, he takes the comb on the sink ledge to brush back his hair. Seeing his face again free from the scruffy tussled mop feels good. He rubs his hands together and starts combing the gel through his hair with his fingers, slicking it back and holding it so it stays in position. He feels Hugo's presence enter the bathroom, watching him from the doorway, still very much naked. Rhys ignores him in favour of doing his hair, turning every angle to check his reflection, make sure he's neat and proper now his hair has been restricted back into place.

After so long not being addressed, Hugo speaks again. "I thought you had the day off today?" He steps closer to Rhys, looking at him through the mirror reflection. Hugo is much broader than Rhys but notably shorter by an inch or two. There have been incidents in the past where Rhys wore heeled boots and Hugo ended up scolding him.

Rhys keeps a cheerful disposition for the sake of peace. Sometimes it feels like stepping on eggshells with him, but it's the smart thing to do if he wants to survive without a headache. "I'm gonna go visit August, help him with some stock-taking, general business stuff." He smiles nonchalantly as Hugo nods, dubious of his answer but accepting it nevertheless - what reason did he have to question him? As he wanders back to the bedroom, Rhys finishes off his hair and does his teeth.

When he rejoins Hugo back in the bedroom, he's still not dressed but begins spraying cologne in his hair nevertheless, and peacocking for the full-length mirror. Hugo spins theatrically and stops abruptly facing the mirror, clicking his fingers at his reflection.

Rhys watches the display, amused and bored in the same breath. It's all very Hugo, to flaunt for no one but himself as if overcompensating to the one person truly in trouble of falling for his act: himself.

When Hugo turns around, Rhys says the first thing that pops into his mind without thinking. "How did you get put on the list for the Handsome Jackpot?" He's not sure why the question comes to mind above all else. Hugo doesn't seem to think much of it, as he ponders an answer mindlessly.

"Clubs are always looking for celebrities to invite. My reputation did all the hard work."

The urge to roll his eyes is strong, but Rhys holds off thankfully. The next thought that pops into his head is a risk to speak into existence, but the want is worthy, he needs to take the chance for his sanity. He pops his hip and grins mischievously, sauntering up to Hugo with a spring in his step before slinking his arms around his neck.

"Could you maybe get your name on the list again so I could visit with the guys?" He asks voice light and flirtatious, batting his eyes.

Hugo frowns, backing away suddenly and making Rhys drop the act like shattered glass. "Why do you need to go there again with them ?!" Where the mood shifts to a familiar disdain, Rhys readies himself for the unpleasantness. He witnessed the calm, now comes the storm, predictable but unwelcome.

He's calm about it, smiling confidently. "Hugoooooo,” he whines out softly, alluringly, the way he knows makes Hugo weak in the knees. It’s his secret weapon, slipping into the role Hugo expects of him, cute and promiscuous, but manipulative. He did his part last night, being the perfect subservient boyfriend who moaned on queue, like an innocent virgin finding substantial relief. He's fallen in line all morning, and now he can use it to his advantage. He pouts his lips and places his hands back around his neck, moving in close so their bodies are pressed tight against one another. Hugo’s strong features are so soft up close. “It’s purely for business.” He brings his hands round to hold Hugo’s face, tilting his head and knowingly letting his gaze drop to his pursed, stubborn lips.

Hugo frowns, confused. “What do you mean? How is gambling business?” Rhys snickers in a way that could seem cruel if he wasn’t so gently stroking Hugo’s cheek with his thumb. He takes Rhys’ wrist in his hand and holds it, tittering on a loving gesture and a warning.

“We’re not going to gamble, silly.” He closes the space between them and kisses Hugo longingly, dragging the affectionate token out until a needy breath slips from Hugo. He keeps his forehead against Hugo’s lightly. “I was thinking, a lot of important rich people go to that place, right? It would be the perfect place for August to network with him. His mom’s been really bugging him to expand the business and make it more than just a place locals venture.”

Hugo snorts condescendingly, but the way he looks at Rhys, it’s obvious he believes him. “Not to take a crap on your idea, babe, but uh…I’m not sure August is sophisticated enough for that place. Any professional with working eyes and a nose will take one look at him and know he’s a bum.”

August has always been an interesting character - very much the black sheep of the group. No one would picture him and Rhys being friends. Sometimes it was hard to imagine Hugo having any friends. In high school, August kept to himself. He'd asked Sasha out when they were just preteens, which is how he and Rhys met. He was the intimidating punk kid that spent most Saturday mornings in detention - whether it be because of the organised fight club he started during lunches, or because during a disagreement he'd told a teacher to suck his dick, or because he'd punched one of the star footballer's front two teeth out right in the middle of his practice.

The last one had been for Rhys. After becoming the target of their hazing, August interrogated Rhys as Sasha tried covering his eye with makeup, and immediately stormed off to confront the culprit. August didn't care about social statuses at their school, all he knew was someone had hurt his friend, and he'd always been taught to live life by "an eye for an eye". That moment cemented things for them.

Rhys has always cherished his awkward relationship with August, for all its quirks. He’s always wished to be more like him - unapologetic and blunt, but still caring, deep, deep down. He knows Hugo doesn’t care much for him, but Rhys knows he’s more than what meets the eye. He’s not just some pothead mommy’s boy, whipped by his girlfriend and looking for an excuse to get into a fight. He’s sensitive, and compassionate, and deserves better.

Of course, Rhys would never say anything so nice to August, for fear of getting a hard punch to his arm. His admiration was purely for himself to know.

Rhys pushes down the need to defend his friend - he can’t afford an argument. Instead, he tilts his head and leans in to kiss Hugo’s neck, right at the spot he knows makes him weak in the knees. A purr accompanies his affection, just to secure the deal.

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeease, Hugo,” Rhys begs in his softest voice possible, light and airy and a little feminine, while his hands slip down to caress his bulging wet biceps. “Think of how impressed they’ll be when they see how much power your name has.” He moves his lips over to Hugo’s jugular and nips gently, smirking when he hears the telltale groan of Hugo’s libido kicking into gear.

“Jesus, you’re such a minx,” Hugo chuckles, hands going round to hold Rhys’ back and secure him flush against his nude self. Rhys giggles, playing his role perfectly, grinding against Hugo desperately, and the broader man growls contently as he grinds back enthusiastically. “You promise me you’ll be on your best behaviour if I do this for you?”

Rhys feels his heart practically jump into his throat at the notion of getting what he wants. His affectionate kisses turn more lustful, excited pre-emptively. “Absolutely,” He lies, moving back to Hugo’s lips to kiss him deeply, tongue slipping into his mouth.

He wonders what kissing Jack is like.

“No funny business, baby,” Hugo tries to clarify, though he’s smiling wickedly against Rhys’ kisses. “You show your trashy buddy how to actually succeed in life and don’t make a mockery of my name, got it?”

Rhys knows if Hugo wasn’t rock hard and still on the high of the heated night before, he’d never give in. He’s doing what he has to, to get what he has to. He slips a hand down between them and wraps it around Hugo’s thick cock, giving it a gentle, persuasive tug, in time with taking his bottom lip between his teeth and tugging playfully. Hugo moans desperately, eyes rolling back before focusing on Rhys again, fiery need encapsulating his pupils. Rhys lets his bottom lip bounce back into place and snorts softly, jerking his brows.

Hugo grunts ferociously and scoops Rhys up in his arms in one swift action, spinning around to throw him to the bed. Rhys laughs as he flops onto the mattress, and gasps when Hugo pounces on him.

He seals the deal and keeps Hugo happy.

He’s going to see Jack again; he has to know more.

#rhack #rhys strongfork #hugo vasquez #tftbl vaughn #rhysquez #Handsome Jack #borderlands #Tales from the Borderlands

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gardenfaerie222 · 1 year

Text

A Bouquet of Violets: Chapter 1

Pairing: Feysand

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Feyre is an undercover officer in PPD’s vice squad. Rhys is a mobster who runs a nightclub named velaris lounge. The police need evidence of his illegal transport of drugs and weapons, what they don’t know is no amount of evidence will ever bring him down.

Content Warning: Assult Mentioned, Violence, Domestic Violence, Cursing, Mental Health

“Fey…re…?”

“F…eyre?”

“Feyre?”

“oh, I’m sorry,” Feyre blinked, “what was the question?”

“How are you handling everything?” The therapist asked her, and Feyre stared at her blankly. How was she handling everything? What was everything? The man she killed a few months ago, her partner setting her up to be assaulted only to get herself killed? Of course, the therapist was only asking about one of those things. It was assumed when she was found that something had been attempted, but she refused a rape kit and told them she was fine, even with the ripped tights bundled deep into the back of her closet. She thought she might burn then, but who knows if nylon is even flammable. She could probably google it, but what was the bother.

The therapist was staring at her expectantly, and Feyre realized she still hadn’t answered the question that had already been repeated to her, “I’m fine, eveything’s going well,” she smiled, trying to force it to reach her eyes. Her therapist didn’t look convinced, and Feyre didn’t blame her. She looked terrible. She had lost weight, already previously being petite it did nothing to keep her from looking like a skeleton or a scarecrow. Her hair was flat and dull, looking more like mud then the bronzy gold it had been previously. Her skin was sallow, and pale, her eyes rimmed in a nasty purple. She looked like she hadn’t slept in months, probably because she hadn’t. Every time she tried she dreamed of a nameless, quite literally faceless, man staring at her. Asking her why she did it, running his hands up and down her legs, finishing what he had tried to start. It terrified her, startling her awake. The bouts of nausea after her nightmares half convinced her something from her dream was true, that maybe she compartmentalized, and that she was pregnant. That test scared her more than any siren did, even if they still make her flinch.

The case into what happened with Amarantha and her, and was she assumed was an assignment from vice had been dragging. Internal affairs ordered her to attend these therapy sessions, among a million interviews about what had happened. Of course, what Amarantha had done wasn’t a part of any investigation. She was corrupt. Feyre was quickly finding out, the whole Prythian Police Department was. Amarantha was being hailed as a hero, even if her and the IA officers all knew the case they were “working” wasn’t exactly above board. It left a sour taste in her mouth to see the woman who let her be drugged, and was going to let some man assault her under the pretense of doing her job, be buried with honors and her photo hung in the precinct.

None of this Feyre could tell the woman in front of her, as she offered a smile that probably looked more like a grimace, “Really, everything’s going well, I have a great support system.”

Another lie, her support system consisted of her fiance, Tamlin, and no one else. Feyre’s sisters didn’t talk to her anymore, she probably hadn’t heard from them in almost half a decade. Not since she graduated college and moved in with Tamlin. She could still hear them telling her not to, not to move away from them, not to move in with him. She didn’t see what they saw then, that Tamlin was crazy, controlling, and heading down the path of physical abuse. He hit her, but occasionally she’d end up with bruises on her arms in the shape of fingers, and much more frequently, with drywall in her hair from where he’d punch the wall next to her head. She hated when he was like that, he scared her. Anger flashing in his eyes, his jaw gnashing like a wild beast, spit flying. He’d probably kill her someday, she didn’t know if she’d stop him.

“Feyre, I can’t help you, unless you help you,” Her therapist eyed her over glasses, but Feyre kept the smile plastered on her face.

“The best thing for me is to get back to work,” Her therapist didn’t seem to believe her, but Feyre finally got the stamp she was waiting on. She was fit to return to work. She actually really did like her therapist, and maybe if it wasn’t ordered by internal affairs, Feyre really could have utilized the resource. She wished she could talk about her nightmares, and the fact that she killed someone, the fact that she’s happy Amarantha died. God, she felt like a terrible person. The walk out to the parking lot, and the drive back to her house, she felt dread settle in her stomach. She got to return to work, which was great, but her coworkers weren’t the most accepting. It also didn’t help that after Amarantha’s death she got a good idea of who was corrupt and who wasn’t. One heavily outweighed the other.

Could she really even judge the other corrupt officers when she knew she was a murderer? It was a dilemma she dealt with daily since the incident. She thought she was a good person, and she thought the man she killed was a bad person, but she was biased. Of course, she thought she was a good person, who actually thinks they’re a bad person? At the same time, how could someone who drugged and assaulted women think they’re a good person? That’s the question. There’s plenty of stories on the news excusing rapist, and even more podcasts and videos online saying men couldn’t help themselves. Maybe they really did think they were good people.

Feyre shrugged off that train of thought as she pulled into the driveway of the house she shared with Tamlin. She glanced at his car sitting in the spot next to her and steadied her mind for a moment before pushing the car door open and stepping out. It took her less time than she wished to get to the front door, turn the key, and step in, “Tam? I’m home,” She called out, plopping her bag down next to the door and kicking off her shoes.

“How’d it go?” He called back to her, but she didn’t miss the slight mockery in his tone as he appeared in the doorframe of his office.

“It was fine, we just talked about Am a little bit,” She responded, admittedly glazing over most of the appointment since she herself wasn’t really paying attention.

“I don’t know why they’re making you do that,” Tamlin scoffed, moving across the foyer into the kitchen to lean against the counter.

“I don’t know Tam, maybe because my partner was murdered while we were on a job? They seem to think that might be a little traumatizing, not to mention everything else,” She rolled her eyes, knowing full well she had developed an anxiety disorder and PTSD. Her therapist had told her as much.

“Yeah, right,” He scoffed, crossing his arms, “You and Amarantha went out, off the job, you let some guy touch all over you and she got shot, you weren’t even there when she got shot what do you even need therapy for?”

“That’s not how it works,” Feyre snapped back, her eyes blazing, “I was fucking drugged Tamlin, I have no idea what happened when I was out. I didn’t even want to drink, Am made me.”

“Oh, what?” He laughed, “Did she pour the drink down your throat? Hold your nose closed? Be serious, Feyre.”

“God, you’re such an asshole,” Feyre mumbled, turning to walk back toward their bedroom. The first thing she felt was a searing pain in her wrist, making her flinch as she whipped around. Tamlin was holding her arm, tightly.

“Tam,” Feyre whimpered, eyes becoming glassy as he squeezed tighter, “you’re hurting me.”

“You need to show me respect,” He seethed, glowering down at her, “You should thank the stars I didn’t leave you when you cheated on me, and came back all messed up in the head. I’m sticking by your side Feyre, because I love you,” he stroked her cheek with his free hand, but his vice-like grip on her wrist didn’t loosen.

“I am grateful Tam,” She breathed out, eyes watering and a few tears overflowing, “I know this is really hard for you,” she felt bile rise in her throat as she spoke the words.

“Well, I’m glad you understand that,” He smiled at her, but it wasn’t kind as he released her wrist, and she rubbed the sensitive skin.

Feyre braced herself as she let the other shoe drop, ‘I got cleared to return to work.”

“What? Why do you need to go back to work? Especially if you’re so traumatized from your last assignment,” her nostrils flared at the mocking tone he took on when he mentioned her therapy but she stayed silent, taking a breath before formulating a response.

“I love my job Tam, I really want to go back,” She pleaded, “it’ll be good for me to get back into the routine.”

“Whatever Feyre, do whatever you want,” Tamlin rolled his eyes at her, barely glancing at her as he moved to go back into his office, “you never listen to me anyway.”

She didn’t breathe until he closed to door, no matter how small the buffer was, she appreciated it. She went to their room, turning the water as hot as she could tolerate it, stripping off her clothes and glancing at herself in the mirror. She looked terrible, her hips and collar bones protruding, her face gaunt, her healthy glow gone. She glanced away, stepping into the shower and promptly sitting under the practically boiling steam water. She scrubbed her skin till it was pink and raw, and sat until the water turned to ice, she sat until she heard Tamlin come into the bedroom, and knew it would be a long night of playing the dutiful fiance and shooting awake from nightmares with seconds to make it to the bathroom.

“You coming, Feyre?” Tamlin asked her from behind the closed door of the bathroom.

“Yeah, of course, just give me a second,” She called back, wrapping herself in a robe and taking a deep breath to steady herself before opening the door, giving him a soft smile and hiding her bruised wrist behind her back.

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years

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365 Days: Part One (Feysand)

Here’s a new multi-chapter Feysand fic. It’s been overdone, so sorry I’m not original, but it’s going to be a lot of humor/smut/flirting. This part is basically a prologue because it sets up the actual story, but the meat and potatoes are coming soon, don’t worry. Next part out Tuesday!

Synopsis: Feyre Archeron, a bright young lawyer with a spotless track record, finds herself forced to steal from one of the most dangerous men in the city in order to protect her reputation. When she gets caught, she thinks she’s done for. But instead of dying, she’s given a reckless, life-changing proposal.

________________________________________________________________

Feyre Archeron was not the law-breaking type.

Hell, she wasn’t even the rule breaking type.

She was a second year law student with a spotless record and a moral compass that usually refused to budge.

Yet here she was, about to break the law and steal from the most dangerous man in the city. Because of her boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend, she thought angrily.

She could not believe she’d gotten herself in this mess. Or that Tamlin was the one causing her problems.

He’d been so good to her for so long. So sweet. But this...

This was despicable. If she wasn’t so objective to the color orange, she’d have killed him when he told her what she had to do. And why she had to do it.

She slapped her cheeks twice, took a deep breath, and walked into Night Court Banking.

“Hello. How can I help you?” one of the tellers asked kindly.

“Hi, I’m here to see a security deposit box.”

“Of course. May I see an ID?”

Feyre forced herself to not stutter. “I’m actually not a member here. My husband is. Am I still allowed into the account?”

“Well, we’ll have to call him to verify, but it shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll still need your ID, though. What’s your husbands name?”

I’m going to jail. Or hell. Whichever comes first.

Feyre took a deep breath and smiled. “His name’s Rhysand Asterra.”

The bank tellers eyebrows flew into her hairline. “I... I wasn’t aware Mr. Asterra had married.”

Feyre swallowed her vomit and tried to look giddy. “Please don’t tell anyone. We’re trying to keep it quiet.”

The bank teller smiled kindly. “Of course, I understand. ID please?”

She slid the fake ID across the counter. Feyre Asterra. As if.

“Alright, Mrs. Asterra. I’ll have to call your husband to verify, and then you should be set.”

Feyre attempted to not look like she was about to pass out as the woman dialed. Tamlin had assured her he would get the call, not Rhysand, but he wasn’t exactly trustworthy.

“Hello, Mr. Asterra. Your wife is here requesting access to the safety deposit box.”

She couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but she thanked her lucky stars Tamlin wasn’t as useless as he seemed as the teller hung up the phone, smiled, and said, “Follow me.”

~Rhysand~

Rhysand Asterra, the city’s own Son of Satan, strolled into his office ready to snap necks, every wise person taking a look at the expression on his face and jumping out of his way.

“Azriel,” he called out as soon as he got through the door. “Why the fuck are people gossiping about me being married?”

His best friend and right hand man opened his mouth, but Rhys interrupted.

“And Cassian,” he said to his other best friend and head of security, “How the fuck did someone break into my safety deposit box today?”

Rhysand’s patience had completely run out. “Both of you need to figure out who is trying to die today, then go make it happen. Actually, no, let’s not be hasty bastards. Bring them to the house upstate.”

“Rhys-“

“Make sure you break a few bones before I get there, though.”

“Rhysand. Shut your fat mouth for a second.” Cassian said, suddenly exasperated.

Rhys rolled his eyes. Cassian was the only person who could talk like that to him and frequently liked to use the right.

“You need to watch the security footage before making any decisions,” Azriel said, calm as ever. Where Cassian was made of brute force and aggression, Azriel was his cold, detached, always calm opposite.

“Why?”

“Just fucking watch,” Cassian sighed, voice sounding a little amused, and pressed a button on the remote. Black and white footage from the bank he owned came up on the screen.

“What am I looking at here?” Rhys asked. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It definitely didn’t look like a robbery.

“Your criminal.”

“What?” The only person on the screen was a woman, probably early twenties, smiling kindly at the bank teller.

“That’s the woman who broke into the box. By saying she was your wife. Had an ID and everything.” Azriel sounded like he was holding in laughter. “Pretty ballsy.”

“But they’d still-“

“Here’s the part where Larissa—the bank teller—calls you. Except it isn’t you.”

He had to refrain from rolling his eyes again. “No shit, Cas.”

Rhys watched the woman walk into the back, then, not five minutes later, walk out, calm as could be.

Which was a pretty impressive feat, considering she’d just stolen two million dollars in diamonds from the head of the mob.

“Find out everything about her. Now.”

~Feyre~

Feyre was in bed, asleep, when they came for her.

She swung with the knife she’d stuck under her pillow that night, but her attacker just laughed, easily dodged, and grabbed her arms.

It was useless. This was the end.

She tried not to cry, but it was a little depressing that she was about to be taken to some abandoned warehouse, tortured, and killed. Because of her fucking ex.

Her attackers shoved a black sack over her head and swiftly carried her out. Somehow, they’d tied her hands and feet while doing it. Clearly it wasn’t their first time.

The thought was not reassuring.

Too late to bother holding her breath, she realized the hood was laced with some sort of chemical. Great, she thought drearily, now I can’t even plead for my life.

It was her last thought before darkness claimed her.

Minutes or hours or days later, Feyre awoke with a start.

She looked around, completely confused. She was in a bed in a gorgeous bedroom decorated in blues and golds, the space heated by a roaring fire.

What the hell?

It definitely wasn’t the dark, dreary dungeon she’d been expecting.

She looked down at herself, noticing with a frown the loose white shirt she was wearing wasn’t her own. And that she didn’t have pants on.

Someone coughed from the corner of the room, and Feyre jumped as she saw the outline of a man standing.

“Am I dead?”

She couldn’t see him, but she had a feeling he was smiling.

“No.” His voice was amused, but cold. Dangerous.

“Oh. Am I about to be?”

“No.”

An uneasy feeling rolled across her skin. “Who are you?” He didn’t say anything, so she asked again. “Who are you?”

He stepped forward and the fire lit up his face as he smiled and said, “Your husband, apparently.”

~Rhysand~

After a minute and a half of her staring at him open mouthed, Rhys asked, “Are you going to say something, or shall we continue to stare at each other?”

“Oh my God,” she whispered softly. “You lied.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I am about to die,” she said with a resigned tone, looking around for potential weapons, probably.

When Cassian had told him she’d tried to attack him with a kitchen knife, he’d had a good laugh. It wasn’t every day you met someone willing to stand up to him and his crew. Pointless as it was.

He leaned a shoulder against the mantle, ignoring the heat of the fire, and schooled his face into bored amusement.

“I’m not going to kill you. But you are going to tell me how you got into my security deposit box. And why.”

She shrugged, the motion extremely casual for a red-handed thief. “It wasn’t that hard.”

Probably not the best thing you could’ve said.

“I’m sure my head of security will find that reassuring, but tell me how you did it.”

“What’s the point?”

Rhys tried not to walk over and shake her. “What do you mean?”

She sat up, the collar of her shirt falling off her shoulder in a stupidly distracting manner. Even though she’d just been drooling face down on his pillow, she was fucking gorgeous.

She stole two million dollars from you, idiot.

He forced his eyes back to her pinched brow.

“I mean,” she said quietly, “I stole from you. Telling you how won’t change the consequences.”

He rolled his eyes, strolling forward and sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m not going to fucking kill you, Feyre. Get yourself together and tell me what happened.”

“How do you know my name?”

Rhysand gave her a small smile, repressing a laugh at the horror on her face.

She sighed heavily and gave him a go to hell look. “I said I was your wife. And used a fake ID.”

“I figured as much. But how did you deal with the phone call?”

Her face went pale. “Oh. Erm... what phone call?”

“Feyre, do not pretend to be an idiot. You saw the teller call me. How did you get around it?”

“I didn’t,” she stated as though it were obvious.

“You had to.”

“But I didn’t. I have no idea how it happened.”

Rhys got up again, walked to the bar cart, and poured himself a very stiff drink. The urge to throttle her was growing by the second. Along with another urge he snuffed out completely. “You’re telling me you walked into my bank, knowing who I am, and had no idea how to get around the phone call?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Who were you working with, then?”

~Feyre~

Shit, shit, shit. She needed to figure out something. And quick.

“Don’t bother lying. Your right eyelid twitches every time you even think about it.”

Double shit.

She couldn’t tell him Tamlin was involved, no matter what happened, so she forced herself to roll her eyes and feign confidence. “Fine. I hacked into your server the day before and changed the phone number to mine. I set up a pre-recorded message.”

He nodded, his beautiful violet eyes twinkling in the light from the fire. “Mmhm, you hacked into my server. Sure. How’d you get past the firewall?”

She swallowed thickly. “I... um-”

Rhysand sighed heavily. “Feyre, it’s obvious you weren’t working alone. Who helped you?”

She winced. “No one helped me.”

Rhysand prowled toward her and her blood started to thrum. Everything about him was simultaneously dangerous and beautiful, and it made her body come alive.

He leaned in, teeth close to her throat, and she couldn’t help but notice he smelled like the ocean and rain and citrus. He’s ridiculously attractive for someone so- focus, Feyre.

“Don’t be stupid. By now, you’ve figured out that I don’t hurt women. But don’t think for one second you will get away with this if you don’t tell me who your partner was.”

Feyre started to say something, but he held a hand up.

“Before you lie to me again, think about your sisters Nesta and Elain. Think about your pretty little roommate, Mor. I have the power to ruin all of their lives. Yours, too. And I will, unless you tell me who helped you.”

Something in his voice, something about his predatory stance, made Feyre see red. All of her fear from earlier went out the door. Along with caution.

Before she could stop herself, she reached out and slapped him clean across his face. “You lay a fucking finger on my family, and I will make sure you live to regret it.”

There was a terrible, terrible pause as his eyes bored into hers, sensual mouth dropped open. He raised a palm to his cheek, the expression on his face almost awe.

Then he did the damnedest thing. He laughed.

“Feyre, darling. You’re quite a remarkable woman.” Rhysand smiled, and Feyre’s anger diminished a little. “Slap me all you want, but you will be telling me who helped you. One way or another.”

Feyre felt like she was playing a game, stuck on the same level, bound to never win. She could threaten him all she wanted, but he had the means and goons to do whatever he wanted to her.

“No one helped me, don’t you get it?” She exploded, dragging a hand through her hair. “I didn’t want to rob you; I don’t even have the diamonds!”

“What?”

She took a deep breath and commanded herself to calm down.

“The last thing on earth I wanted to do yesterday was rob the head of the fucking mob. I’m not an idiot.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have got to be the most frustrating woman I’ve ever met.”

Because she had a death wish, she spat back, “Well, since you probably pay for your female companionship, I’d be inclined to agree with you.”

His violet eyes flashed, and a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. He snuffed it out and got back on topic. “So you’re saying you were forced to rob me?”

Feyre nodded, then watched as he went to pour himself another drink.

“By who?”

Fuck. “Um, I can’t tell you that.”

He ran a hand through his dark hair. “And why not?”

“It was part of the deal. If he--or she!--finds out, then I don’t get- um, then the deal’s off.” Jesus, get it together.

Rhysand took a long look at her face and rolled his eyes. “It was Tamlin O’Connor.”

Completely forgetting her own advice to remain composed, Feyre’s mouth fell open. How the hell had he guessed that? “What? No, it wasn’t.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” He came over and reclaimed his spot on the corner of the bed. “I honestly don’t know how you convinced anyone we’re married.”

“I am not an awful liar, I’m just nervous.” That was the most honest thing she’d said in a long time.

“Why are you nervous?”

She flattened a look towards him. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because the head of the mob kidnapped me and is threatening everyone I know and I have a lot riding on those stupid diamonds.”

As the reality of her situation set in, Feyre realized she had two options: Stay and experience the wrath of the man everyone called the Son of Satan, or flee.

Not being a fan of torture, Feyre didn’t feel bad at all as she gathered her strength, reared back, and punched him in the throat.

She blocked out his surprised gasp, along with the slew of curses he unleashed, as she hurtled for the door. She had no idea where she was, but she knew she had to get out of here.

Her hand wrapped around the handle, only for a tan, tattooed hand to grab her other wrist and halt her progress.

Rhysand whipped her around, and she crashed into him, both of them landing on the floor with a dense thud.

Feyre managed to get a satisfying elbow to the face in before he pinned her arms above her head. She swung her knee up between his legs, but he expertly avoided the hit. Then her legs were pinned effortlessly under his.

She was trapped. Again.

This time, she directly under him, trying to ignore the sensation of his weight on her. The thin shirt she was wearing did absolutely nothing to block out the edges of his body.

Feyre felt her breathing go a little shallow as she remembered she wasn’t wearing pants.

His tensed muscles pressed into her chest, heavy arms confining hers to the floor. His legs were corded with muscle and one of his thighs was in between hers a little-

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I swear to God I’ll kiss you.” Shit. Her gaze shot to the ceiling. “You’re developing a kink for hitting me, I think.”

She ignored that.

A firm hand drifted to grip her chin, the other still holding her wrists. “I’m not going to let you up until you tell me everything.”

The look in his eyes told her he was serious, so she rolled her eyes and murmured, “Tamlin’s my ex-boyfriend, which I’m assuming you know. He’s in debt. I didn’t know, but he likes to gamble. He borrowed from the wrong person, and he was desperate for the cash.”

He nodded, still pinning her. Apparently, there was more she had to spill. “How’d he get you to go along with it? You’re not exactly the robber type.”

So true. “He, um, has something on me.”

His dark eyebrows shot up. If she didn’t know better, she would say there was wicked delight in his eyes. “What is it?”

Feyre shook her head. She’d never tell him. She’d never tell anyone. Ever.

Rhysand sighed dramatically, the movement making his chest drag against hers. “Just tell me what you did. I promise I’ve heard worse.”

Probably from your own diary.

��I didn’t do anything.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Feyre watched the movement. “So his leverage over you is that you’re an innocent little lawyer?”

Avoid, avoid, avoid. “Why do you need to know, exactly?”

“I’m trying to figure out a way to get you out of this.”

That stopped her hateful thought process. He was trying to help her? Feyre had absolutely no reason to believe him, but for some reason, she did.

“When Tamlin and I were together, he um...” She looked at his perfectly innocent chin, unable to speak the words under his demanding stare. “Recorded us.”

That damned hand on her jaw forced her eyes back to his. He looked confused, so she sighed.

“While we were... intimate,” she explained.

Understanding lit up in his eyes, and his expression morphed into something deadly. “He made a sex tape? Without your permission?”

“Mmhm,” she murmured awkwardly, suddenly very aware that she was still pinned underneath him. Without pants on.

He seemed to realize it, too, because he stood up and pulled her with him. Knowing it’d be pointless to run, Feyre sat back down on the bed and watched as he paced back and forth.

A few minutes later, she practically saw an idea form in his beautiful head. Rhysand turned to her, hands braced on the mattress, and asked frankly, “Do you love him?”

“No.”

A flicker in his eyes, too quick to read. “Good. I have a proposition for you, then.”

Her eyes narrowed on their own accord.

“I’ll take care of Tamlin. And the recording.” She was grateful he avoided the term sex tape. “I’ll make sure he’s the one who gets the blame for the robbery.”

“That’s an offer, not a proposition,” she pointed out.

“How right you are. I’ll take care of everything...” He smiled softly. “If you marry me.”

Every thought emptied out of Feyre’s head. “What?” she breathed, the sound barely audible.

Rhysand slid his hands in his pockets. “There’s already a rumor going around about me being married. Your picture’s been leaked, too.”

Shit.

“And I can’t allow people to know I was robbed. Bad for business, baby.”

Shit.

“Marry me, and I’ll deal with it.”

A thought occurred. “What exactly do you mean ‘deal with it’?” Tamlin was a complete jackass, but he didn’t deserve to die and be thrown in a shallow grave.

“I mean I’ll tell the police you went to the bank to get something for me, Tamlin cornered you when you came out, and he stole the diamonds,” he explained casually, as if they weren’t talking about a felony.

“And the tape?”

Rhysand scratched the back of his neck. “I have someone who can... acquire it.”

She remembered the level of professionalism of her kidnappers.

“Are you alright? Are you about to attack me again?” The amusement in his voice grated her nerves.

“Maybe. I just don’t see how you can be so calm about this!” She shot out of bed, not even caring about her state of dress, and took over his role of pacing. “I can’t marry you, I don’t even know you! And you’re in the mob! You’re Al Capone!”

Rhysand laughed suddenly, and Feyre turned to see him bite his lip. “I pay my taxes, love. And I’ll even give you a loophole. After a year, if you’re still miserable, we can get a divorce.”

“How are you okay with this?”

She couldn’t fathom the idea someone that rich, powerful, and handsome was okay with signing over a part of his life.

“Honestly, my life was getting a little boring before you came along. Plus, even Al Capone had a wife, you know.”

She rolled her eyes. “So my options are to go to jail and become a disgrace to my family, or marry a mobster?”

“Pretty much.”

Despite herself, she let out a little laugh.

Rhysand smiled softly as he walked over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Think about it. Sleep. I’ll take the couch.”

“Wait, this is your room?”

He nodded, purple eyes twinkling as he watched her take in her surroundings with renewed interest. “I’ll see you in the morning, Feyre darling.”

And then she was alone.

Holy hell. What am I going to do? She had no idea.

Because she was a complete nerd, she grabbed a notepad off the desk in the corner and began to make a pros and cons list of the marriage.

Pros: No jail. No Kim K scandal. Rhysand is good looking (constant eye candy). Rhysand is rich.

Cons: Rhysand is the head of the mob. Rhysand could be mentally unstable (strong possibility, considering marriage proposal). Rhysand is friends with very good kidnappers. A year without sex.

She didn’t bother writing down that her love life would suffer. After her last boyfriend, she couldn’t care less if she didn’t date for a long, long time.

After thinking of all the consequences she could, Feyre decided the list was completely pointless. Her thoughts were jumbled beyond belief, and she had no idea what decision she’d find herself making come morning.

With a sigh, she threw the notepad on the bedside table, slid down in the bed, and fell asleep.

~Rhysand~

Around noon, Rhysand couldn’t take the insufferable boredom any more, so he went to sit on the edge of he bed and watched Feyre sleep like a complete stalker.

She twitches in her sleep. How cute.

Rhysand smiled down at the woman completely passed out in front of him and poked her forehead with a discarded pencil from the nightstand.

Feyre made a few harumph sounds before opening those blue eyes and peering up at him. “Good morning.”

“It’s almost afternoon at this point.” He ran his eyes over her frame, still dressed in his shirt, and found himself enjoying the sight a little too much. “I thought I would come in and help with your decision.”

When she noticed what he was holding, she shot straight up and tried to grab it.

Rhysand kept the notepad out of reach and lightly slapped her hand away.

“Let’s start with the pros, shall we? ‘No jail.’ That’s definitely a good one, because as beautiful as you are, orange doesn’t flatter many people.”

Feyre covered her face with her hands, and he laughed as he read, “’No Kim K scandal.’ You know, I heard her own mother released that tape. Dreadful.”

She groaned in embarrassment.

Rhysand couldn’t keep the shit-eating grin off his face as he continued. “’Rhysand is good looking.’ And in parenthesis, I quote, ‘constant eye candy.’”

She grabbed the pillow underneath her and covered her head with it. He took it away and smiled down at her. “Wouldn’t want to block your view.”

“You’re such an asshole,” she told him matter-of-factly, still blushing, but there was a small smile on her face.

“Next we have ‘Rhysand is rich.’ True. You wouldn’t even have to steal to earn a living.” He was enjoying himself too much.

Especially as she glared up at him.

“Now onto the cons.” She made another attempt to snatch the list away, but he grabbed her hand and held tight. “Rhysand is the head of the mob. This is true, but it’s probably not what you think. I’m more of a business owner. I own a few banks and some clubs downtown. I also control the imports and exports into the city.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow. “That’s not illegal. ‘Mob’ implies illegal.”

“By imports and exports I mean drugs,” he sighed, suddenly embarrassed about his career. “And the way I enforce rules is occasionally illegal.”

She bit her lip and he could tell she was processing the information. Then, “Do you kill people?”

Rhysand shrugged. “Not if I can avoid it. Most of the time, if it comes to that, I just don’t allow them to come into the city ever again.”

She was quiet, so he continued with the list. “’Rhysand could be mentally unstable.’ Apparently, this is a strong possibility. I can promise you, Feyre darling, I was of sound mind and body when I gave you this proposition.”

Those blue eyes narrow, but she didn’t say anything.

“‘Rhysand is friends with very good kidnappers.’” He laughed soundly. “I’ll tell Cassian and Azriel you were impressed. You can meet them later, if you want. Cassian told me you tried to stab him with a butter knife, by the way.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll be better prepared next time.”

He couldn’t help but grin. Damn if he didn’t like her.

“And lastly--and this one is extremely interesting to me--you wrote: ‘A year without sex.’”

Feyre’s entire face went red. All the way down past the collar of his shirt. He watched with amusement as she looked anywhere but at his face.

Just to keep her blushing, he asked, “It could be my memory, but I don’t recall that being part of our negotiation.”

She growled--growled--at him, and he had to bite his lip to keep himself from eating the sound.

“I remember how you looked at me last night, when I was on top of you.” Her eyes go a little wide. “I don’t think you’ll make it a year.”

Determination lit up on her face. “I think I could go two.”

He smiled, and she looked down at the hand he still had captured with his.

Rhysand wasn’t entirely sure he was breathing as her delicate finger traced over the tattoos on wrist. She followed the lines across the back of his hands, down each finger.

She seemed a little lost in thought. “What are you thinking about?”

She glanced up at him. “I’m trying to make sense of it. I’ve heard awful things about you, and the people you work with. And yet... you’re nice to me. You don’t seem like a bad person.”

He swallowed against the sudden tightness in his chest. “I’ve done-”

Feyre cut him off. “We all do things we don’t want to do. It doesn’t define us.”

For some reason, he couldn’t think of a single response.

The entire city feared him--they called him the Son of Stan, for shit’s sake. And for the most part, he deserved it; he’d done terrible things to get control of the city.

And yet she looked at him like none of it mattered. She looked at him with an openness he hadn’t seen in a long, long time. Like he was a person, not a monster.

“I want you to make me a promise.”

Rhys nodded. He was pretty sure he’d agree to anything.

“Promise me you’ll stay like this with me,” she whispered to him. “Your business is your business. But stay... good with me.”

Surprised he could even find his voice, he murmured, “I promise.”

He meant what he said. Rhysand liked how she looked at him, and he’d never do anything to compromise that.

“Then I’ll marry you.”

The amount of happiness that unfolded in him scared the shit out of him. He didn’t know why, but he’d been desperate to hear those words.

Unable to stop himself, Rhys leaned down and brushed a kiss against her lips.

He heard her inhale sharply, but she stayed perfectly still. Then he pulled back, gave her a stupidly big smile, and asked, “Would you like a tour of your new home then, Feyre darling?”

________________________________________________________________

Part 2

@bamchickawowow @b00kworm @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11

#feysand #high lady feyre #feyre #feyre acotar #feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #rhysand #acotar #acowar #acofas #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #acotar fanfiction

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