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cham-chammity · 3 years

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Drunk Striker (Fanfic Oneshot)

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Background info (TW: mention of suic!de):

In my AU or whatever you wanna call it, Striker was raised by his dad (Buck) and his aunt (Cassandra). Striker's mother died at childbirth, so Cassie helped her little brother Buck raise Striker. Buck suffered from Depression and a Panic Attack disorder (Striker inherited the panic attack part). Because of this, it lead to Buck commiting suicide about a year and a half prior to Striker joining I.M.P. Striker's parents were only 16/17 when he was born, so partially due to the shorter age gap he was very close with his dad. My oneshot takes place around the two-year anniversary of his dad's death.

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The taste of hot, straight whiskey burned Striker's throat as his lips met the one of two newly opened bottles of alcohol he purchased. He let out a relieved breath, as the western imp hadn't drank good whiskey since he last left Wrath. He also needed a distraction from the gut-wrenching memories trying to re-surface themselves in his head, memories he knew he'd be sobbing himself to sleep if he didn't force back down.

Taking another swig, Striker plopped down at the kitchen counter and took off his hat. The one dim light above him illuminated a sickly yellow glow, causing the bottle in the imp's hand to look like an old bottle of piss. Striker smiled at the thought, Blitz definitely would say something like that in the current situation. Speaking of his boyfriend, his small smile turned into a frown. Blitz wouldn't be home for awhile since he insisted he go spend the night out with Barbie. She was barely out of rehab; the twins hadn't seen each other in months. But that wasn't the driving reason why he told Blitz to go out for this particular evening. He didn't want Blitz to see him like... this. Striker needed to stay strong for Blitz, he couldn't let his mate see the weak, sad, drunk side of him. Blitz would probably just tell him to man up and push through it. Striker was strong. He can handle these things on his own. He didn't need comfort. Just a few drinks and sleep and he'll be good. Right?

Striker sat there taking in as much of the burning liquid he could handle, like a parched cactus in the dryest possible desert. Blackout drunk wasn't his go-to--nor his favorite--way out of these things. But it did the job. Sure, he knew how unhealthy it was, but at least he wasn't one of those 24/7 drunk-ass rednecks that did it thrice a week.

Striker was barely finished with the first bottle when the sound of familiar footsteps approached the door to their apartment. The door swung open and Blitz loudly barged in (per the usual), catching Striker comepletely off-gaurd.

"Hey babe, I'm back! You will not believe what-- whoah, why is it so goddamn dark in here?" Striker hissed and squinted as Blitz turned on the brighter kitchen lights, adding to the throbbing headache Striker could feel coming.

shit, Striker thought to himself. He isn't supposed to be home for another hour.

"You're back early, though' you'd be out for another hourer.. ssso." Blitz cocked his head in concern as Striker spoke. His accent was thicker than usual. He also doesn't normally do the hissy s thing unless he meant to or was drunk. And judging by the nearly-empty bottle of whiskey along with Striker's distraught appearance, he was definitely drunk.

"Babe, why have you been drinking? Alone? Basically in the dark?"

"Ssssno big reason, juss... ta pleasure mahselfss' all."

Blitz stood in thought for a moment. Striker never drank 'just because'. He always had good reasoning behind it, so something definitely was up. The crimsom imp walked over and sat down next to his mate.

"I came home earlier because I'm worried about you. You've been acting... off the past few days. You've hardly been eating, you're quiet, withdrawn... and I can tell you're tired as well. Now I'm really glad I came home early seeing you're trying to pass yourself out with a bottle of alcoholic-looking piss."

Striker sighed and lazily rested his head on a propped up arm. "Yeah, you're right ah guess," he muttered softly.

"So tell me, what's wrong?"

Striker sucked in a sharp breath at the question. "Iss nothin' ah can't handle on mah own. I'm alrigh'. I'll prolly juss go on n' hit the hay fer t'night."

As Striker stood from his seat, a blotched hand grabbed his arm yanking him back down on the stool he was sitting on.

"No."

"Wut?"

"I said no, Striker. There is clearly something wrong and I need to know what it is. I'm not going to let you shove it under the rug. And you definitely, by the looks of it, can't handle it on your own."

Striker looked at the floor, feeling nothing but shame for his weakened state. "Ah can't let ya see me like this though. Ah need ta be strong fer ya Blitz..."

A hand gently angled Striker's head up as calm, yellow eyes met tired, blown-out ones. "Hey, who was it that said no matter who you are, everyone has something deep under the tip of the iceberg?"

Striker took a moment to think before responding. "Ah did?"

"Yes. Who was it that said no matter what, there is going to be something dark in everyone's past?"

"Ah did."

"And who was it that said they'd help me heal those deep wounds and be there for me and stay with me every step of the way?"

"Ah did."

"You did, Striker! And you still continue to help me. But here's the thing, babe... our relationship here is a two-way street. I'd be quite an ass of a boyfriend if I wasn't here for you as much as you are for me. You are the strongest, bravest imp I know. You've always been strong for me and I know you always will. And just becuase you're vulnerable, doesn't make you weak."

Striker sat in stunned silence for a few long moments, before finally giving in.

"Mah dad. Two years ago t'day. He uh.. he passed." Blitz listened as Striker slowly slurred out the words, the crack in the taller imp's voice ripping a tear through his heart. He'd never seen or heard Striker close to crying before, let alone actually cry at all. "We were..." A long pause. "We were very close." Blitz wrapped his hands in Striker's and gave them a tight squeeze. "Ah misss him sss...sso goddamn much."

And with that, Striker broke. He finally let out the loud, ugly sobs he'd been gulping down the past hour. Blitz embraced him in a tight hug and wrapped their tails together, gently rocking his mate side to side while softly stroking his hair. Striker's shoulders violently shook as he took in harsh gasps and let out heart-wrenching sobs.

Blitz felt tears brimming in his own eyes at the sound of his lover's painful grief, the sharp claws tightly gripping at his shirt causing him to hug his lover tighter.

Neither imps knew how long Striker cried for, but once his sobs calmed down to quiet cries, Blitz helped walk him back to their room. He was pretty tipsy after all.

Blitz helped Striker strip down to his boxers as he did likewise. They both lied down on their bed and Blitz cradled his lover in his arms, placing a soft, gentle kiss on Striker's forehead.

"I love you so much, Striker," he whispered in his ear. "I'm always here for you, as you are for me. Don't ever forget that."

Striker gave Blitz's hand a tight squeez in response. He was too drunk and tired to muster any words, as well as his soft cries blocked any other noises that dared escape his mouth. But the hand squeez was more than enough for Blitz. He held Striker tightly the rest of the night, the taller imp fading in and out of crying spells before eventually entirely passing out.

Blitz refused to fall asleep until all he could hear was the soft breathing from his mate in his arms. As Blitz was finally able to drift to sleep himself, he was thinking up of some hangover breakfast ideas to make for his partner in the morning. Or afternoon, that'd work too. Striker needed the sleep after all.

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I originally post my fanfiction on my Wattpad (@cam-illeon). Hope y'all enjoy!! I might do a Drunk Striker pt. ll

#helluva boss #helluva blitzo #striker x blitzo #blitzo helluva boss #helluva striker #striker helluva boss #blitzo x striker #blitzo #helluva boss blitzo #blitzker #blitzstrike #hb striker #hb blitzo #hb blitzker #helluva boss fanfiction #fanfiction

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butwhyduh · 3 years

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The Batmobile

Jason todd x reader

Warning: angst, fluff, smut, it’s fucking in the fucking batmobile 🤷🏻‍♀️😏

It was a whole year ago that you found out about Jason being Red Hood. He had left a spare helmet in the back of his closet and you had pulled it on top of you when you grabbed a hoodie. After mentally freaking out, Jason had gotten you a bag of ice for the knot on your head.

It took a whole freaking year of knowing his secret and almost 2 years of dating for you to be invited to the Wayne Manor. Okay, actually Bruce had invited you within the first 6 months of dating. Jason was the one who wanted to keep you a secret.

You spent a good 2 hours looking through your entire closet to find something to wear. What the hell do you wear to dinner at a billionaire’s house? You relaxed a little when you saw Jason wearing plain jeans and a hoodie. Okay, yeah good. Casual was better. Not to mention that you were taking a motorcycle there.

You arrived in skinny jeans and a leather jacket that felt like a protection. You could act like a punk and most people won’t touch you. Especially when Jason had the scowl he was currently wearing. You followed his eyes to see the unmistakable form of Bruce Wayne in the drive.

Did Bruce specifically find children that resembled him? Much like Jason he was tall and muscular with dark hair and as you got closer you could see he also had blue eyes. He had a few wrinkles around his eyes and grey in his hair that seemed to add to his beauty rather than take it away. You’d never met a billionaire before.

“Hello,” Bruce said.

“Hello.” You shook his hand.

“I apologize for not having you over sooner but Jason seems to have wanted to keep you a secret,” he said with a tiny smile you almost missed.

“I wonder why,” Jason whispered sarcastically. Bruce ignored it. “Hello demon spawn,” he said and you gasped at the person you hadn’t seen before standing only a few feet from you.

“Damian Wayne,” he said with his hand out to you. You shook the young man’s hand and stated your name. He was only a inch or two within your height despite his youth and heavily resembled his father except for his deep olive skin tone and green eyes.

The door opened and a voice called out, “perhaps you should bring your party inside the manor. It will be snowing soon.” The polished English accent must have been Alfred.

Bruce moved to the side and you all walked in. Alfred had walked to the dinning room. The hallway had deep polished wood walls and was dimly lit by candles on candelabras. As you walked towards the room, a warm body grabbed your hand and you shrieked.

“Sorry! Sorry!” He said releasing your hand. You flushed, embarrassed. “I thought you saw me. I’m Dick.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

Jason grasped your hand and stepped towards Dick with a look of murder on his face. You put your hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. It was an accident,” you said with a little awkward laugh. Jason relaxed a little.

Alfred stood in the doorway to the dinning room with a small smile. He gently cleared his throat and you all followed him in the dinning room. It was then that you truly took in the beauty of the house. You had been too nervous about meeting his family when walking in.

The room was breathtaking. A long mahogany table was lined with emerald tuffed chaired and heavy gold curtains over the windows. The wooden floor gleamed and you noticed that your feet were the only ones making any noise as you sat down.

“Hello master Jason. It’s nice to see you here again. And you must be y/n. I’m glad he finally brought you around,” Alfred said quietly, shaking your hand. “Excuse me, I must serve dinner.”

A lovely smelling soup was placed before you all and water and wine was served. You watched as everyone ate. Bruce ate casually while Dick animatedly told a story. Another brother, Tim, shook your hand across the table before eating and typing away on his phone. Jason stared at Damian while eating and the teen glared back. You put your hand on Jason’s knee and he seemed to relax a little.

“I need to speak you, Jason, about work after dinner,” Bruce said casually. All of Jason’s tension came back.

“Not today,” he said. “We can talk later.”

“Well it’s quite important WE business,” Bruce said and everyone at the table watched the two closely.

“Is that why we came over? For you to talk business?” Jason said. He almost had a grimace on his face.

“Of course not. We wanted to meet your girlfriend,” Dick interjected. Jason ignored him.

Bruce finally spoke. “He’s right. We can talk about it later. Tell us more about yourself, y/n.”

“Oh, uh...” you said quite put on the spot. “I’m a photographer.”

“You should have brought your camera. The courtyard can be very pretty in the evening,” Bruce said. “Do you work for a newspaper?”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Jason scoffed.

“I don’t. I mainly take portraits but I have been taking urban photos lately,” you said. “Like the effects of urban areas. I mean-“ you felt a loss of words to describe what you meant.

“She takes photos of the worst parts of Gotham to expose the poverty. That’s where we met. I don’t really let her go alone anymore,” he said with the smallest hint of a smile. “It’s pretty damn dangerous.”

“I’ve been fine,” you insisted and Jason thought back on the multiple shady characters he’s had to beat for you to get your shots without knowing what he was doing. “But I’m putting together a piece for South Gotham Gallery. A few more shots and it will be complete.”

“I’ve heard certain areas can be very dangerous,” Dick commented. “I would be very careful. Especially with a camera.”

“Yeah, like the East End,” Tim said.

“I grew up there,” you admitted with a laugh. “Stay away from Crime Alley and you’re probably okay. During the day.”

“It’s unwise to visit at all. Crime has risen 11 percent in the past 3 years,” Damian said. Alfred served a salad next.

“And unemployment by over 15 percent in the Bowery. That’s why I’m doing my piece. Poverty and crime is caused by wealth,” you said frankly before realizing that you just said that to a bunch of billionaires. Jason stifled a snicker.

[[MORE]]

“I suppose so,” Bruce said slowly. Jesus, you had just insulted your boyfriend’s adoptive father.

“Sorry,” you said quietly looking at your salad.

“It’s fine. It’s true,” Jason said with a shrug.

“So do you two live together,” Dick asked, changing the subject.

“You’re saying that crime is caused by wealth? Can you explain,” Damian said. Jason almost crushed the stem of his wine glass.

“I just mean, Gotham’s rich have gotten richer and the poor poorer and the ones with the money can control that,” you said delicately.

“So the rich can prevent poverty? All poverty?” Damian asked. And to the 13 year old’s credit, he just seemed to be curious. He could clearly feel the tension he was creating but didn’t actually care as he wanted answers.

“Paying people enough to live, healthcare for all, rehabilitation services that actually rehab, good education. All will help prevent crime and poverty. Many studies have shown this,” you said and you wanted to remain impartial but your voice betrayed your passion for the subject.

“We donate and run many foundations that support most of those things. Right father?” Damian asked. You sighed but kept silent. Throwing money doesn’t solve a problem.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“Drop it Damian,” Tim said. He roughly stabbed at his salad.

“I just want to know how she could possibly know what the rich do if she has always been poor.”

Jason crushed the stem at this point. “Shit,” you said quickly wrapping his bleeding hand in a handkerchief from the table. He looked close to exploding.

“Don’t forget that she’s not the only poor kid at the table. I grew up on the streets and moved here. Rich people are shit,” Jason said. He started standing and Damian watched him with a glint in his eyes. He was ready to fight too.

“Sit down, Jason,” Bruce commanded. “He’s just a curious boy.”

“Not surprising. He gets it from his old man. Disregard for anyone else,” Jason all but growled. Tonight was only the tip of the iceberg. You put a hand on his forearm. The last thing you wanted was a fight.

“You’re angry,” Bruce said quietly. He swallowed harshly. “Sit down.”

“I’m a grown man,” Jason said scoffing.

“Not acting like that,” Bruce said. Jason’s hands twitched towards his gun on his hip but he resisted the urge.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. Alfred, food was great. Fuck you, Bruce,” Jason said grabbing your hand.

“Don’t leave,” Dick called as Jason pulled you down the hall. He didn’t go towards the front door but downstairs to a garage. There was probably 20 cars. Many of them were cars you had never seen in person.

“You wanna go for a drive?” He asked and you felt a thrill.

“One of these?” You asked.

“Nope,” Jason said pressing a code into a computer. A hidden garage door opened to expose a very conspicuous vehicle. The batmobile. You’d definitely never seen that car in real life.

“Seriously? Won’t he get mad?” You asked a little shocked.

“Fucking furious. We’re just going to get something to eat,” Jason said grabbing the key and unlocking it.

“Ugh... what the hell? Why not? Yeah,” you finally said. You knew the value of not missing a ride in the freaking batmobile. He grinned and opened the door for you. You climbed in and noticed a billion buttons. As Jason started the car, a string of lights pulsed on before the car showed multiple sensors. Jason pressed a few buttons before shifting the gear and driving out of the garage. The front gate automatically opened and he started putting on some speed once the car hit the road.

It felt like he was driving 50 when the speedometer was showing a cool 120. Your heart beat quickly in fear and excitement. Jason slowed down to 70 and grasped your hand. You could see tiny little cuts on his hand from the glass he crushed earlier.

“Is your hand okay?” You asked looking it over.

“It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt at all. Let’s get some food. I know a spot. But you’ll have to wear this,” he said pulling out a small black mask to cover your eyes. He took his own. “Can’t exactly drive the batmobile and show our face.”

The spot he knew was a tiny little taco truck strung with Christmas lights and a white board advertising “elotes con chile y limon.” It was on an empty corner lot in a not so great area of Gotham. It was extremely conspicuous as the pair of you got out of the car. Most people watched but as they thought they were watching freaking Batman order tacos, they didn’t say or do anything.

“Hello,” said the truck owner nervously. “Would you like something to eat? Elotes? Carnitas?”

“Yeah, 6 carnita tacos with cilantro and lime. A Mexican coke. 2 orders of sopapillas. What do you want?”

“That’s all for you?” You laughed always amazed at the amount he could eat. It made sense with all the energy he used but still. “Same but just 2 tacos and and a coke.”

Jason wrapped an arm around you waist and swayed slightly to the Mexican music playing in the truck. People started to get used to you both being there. Maybe Batman just wanted some tacos?

After receiving a plastic take out bag with foil wrapped tacos, a sign of good tacos, you both climbed back in the car. The masks were haphazardly tossed on the dash. Jason drove you both back the way you came and you wondered if you were going back to the manor when, no he was taking you to a quiet rest stop outside the city. You ate the tacos and sopapillas on the hood of the car. You watched as Jason added way to much spicy green chile sauce to his tacos.

“Want some?”

“I choose life but thank you,” you said. You giggled as he cleared his throat and gulped down his coke. But to his credit, he ate it. Maybe he just enjoyed pain? “Now what?” You asked watching the stars. They weren’t visible in the city.

Instead of answering, Jason pulled you close. Your back against his chest and he wrapped his arms around you. You held his hands and looked at the little scars that littered his skin. Always fighting. Jason bent to kiss your neck.

“Wanna be really bad,” he asked with audacity that you knew meant something interesting. You leaned into him more.

“What do you mean?” You purred. Dating a guy like Jason Todd, you weren’t exactly new to taking some risks.

“Let’s fuck. Right. Here,” he said and with every word he slowly spoke in a husky voice, he pushed his hips against you and you knew exactly what he wanted. You went to turn in his arms but he moved quicker and you were quickly bent over the car with a gasp. He pulled off his jacket and threw it on the hood. Little did you know but he was covering the camera.

Jason’s hand ran along your back and you shivered as your skin pressed against the hard metal. He kissed the back of your neck and kneaded the flesh on your hips and he ground his hard on against you. “Fuck you’re pretty. And letting fucking Bruce know what you think of the rich. That was hot as shit. I’ve been wanting to do this for months.”

“This was on your bucket list,” you asked grinding your hips back against him. “To bend me over the batmobile and fuck me?”

“Jesus,” he said before pulling down your jeans and panties in one push. You shivered at the cold air touched your ass. “Your fucking mouth, Princess. I love it.”

You weren’t cold for very long because after a few seconds of rustling with a belt and zipper, you felt Jason press against your ass. He rubbed his cock through your folds a few times before pulling away. You turned to whine only to see him rolling on a condom. He sunk into you without ceremony. His fingers roughly held your hips as he thrust into you.

You moaned and the echo reminded you that you were outside. Anyone could come up on the pair of you fucking on the goddamn Batmobile. It made you moan even louder. He rubbed his hand up and down your spine before sliding down to the front of your body to rub your clit. It didn’t take long for you to grip him tighter.

“Fuck, Princess, are you close?” He moaned in your ear. His thrusts were rough and deep and his fingers moved quickly over your clit.

“Yeah, oh shit, yeah,” you moaned. “Jay,” you whined when he readjusted his hand.

“I got you. Let go, Princess,” he purred in your ear. You reached a hand up and grabbed his hair. You pulled him close and moaned his name on repeat as you came. He grunted and a few more thrusts found his release. Jason pulled out and pulled up your pants with a pat on your ass and took care of his condom.

“We probably need to get the car back before Bruce come looking for it,” he said grabbing his jacket. Jason gave you a long sweet kiss before getting back in the car.

“Does he have a tracking device in it,” you asked with sudden realization.

“Yeah but all we did was get some tacos and stopped to eat them,” Jason said with a wink. “He won’t care too much. Plus he’ll only be mad at me anyways. Don’t worry about it, Princess.”

You held his hand all the way back to the front drive of Wayne Manor. As soon as you were in his car, his phone lit up and before he put it away, it was a message from Tim. “Clean it before you bring it back. I don’t even want to know what happened and Bruce is ofc mad.😩”

You laughed a little and Jason went from grinning to laughing out loud. “At least we didn’t fuck in the car,” you said. He laughed some more.

“Maybe next time, baby,” he said with a wink before speeding out of the drive.

“Oh god. I wouldn’t do Alfred like that.”

“I knew I liked you for some reason. Let’s get home. It’s cold as balls out here and I’d like to spend some time with my hot as shit girlfriend before the other shoe drops,” Jason said taking your hand again.

“That’s a fan-fucking-tastic idea.”

#friday night smut #red hood x reader #red hood smut #Jason todd #Jason todd smut #Jason todd x reader #batmobile #jason todd x y/n

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anna-justice · 3 years

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Lost or Found - 24

Summary: As Jay, Hailey, Kim, Adam and Kevin start their junior year in the wake of a tragic summer, the past year of their lives comes back to haunt them. If you enjoyed Pretty Little Liars, this is for you! *UPSTEAD/BURZEK High School AU

...

24 - Evermore ...

“Your dad should have killed you when he had the chance…”

Hailey whimpered, her eyes clenched shut and beads of sweat appearing on her forehead.

“So you want to play hero one more time?”

She flinched in her sleep, her heart beating out of her chest, so fast that she thought it was going to explode.

“That works for me.”

Hailey shot up, screaming. The last thing she saw was the barrel of a gun. She clawed at her chest, trying to get a good breath. “Hailey?” Someone yelled, and then right after, her Aunt appeared in front of her. “Hailey, it’s okay.” Trudy reached out to grab her hand, but Hailey pulled it back, looking at her with scared eyes.

It had been a month since she had heard those words muttered aloud, but they plagued her dreams frequently.

The two weeks following that day, all five of them took turns rotating through the police station. Everyday there were new questions, more people to explain things to, more statements to clarify, it was never ending. Then, it just stopped. There was nothing else they could do, they had to wait for trial. And in the meantime, Erin was placed in a psychiatric hold facility, and her lawyers were defending her actions as a symptom as psychosis.

It bothered them all, that technically she was free, all because they could blame her attempted murder on a psychotic break. Especially when Kelly Severide was looking at time. A few days after, two detectives showed up at Hailey’s house, wanting a full recount of the last five months, and that included the night that she was attacked. When Severide was questioned, he had no alibi and he confessed to strangling Hailey. His excuse was that he was threatened the same way that the rest of them were, only in person. He claimed that he knew Erin was alive the whole time, but she threatened to kill his mom and sister if he didn’t cooperate.

Unfortunately, the only way to corroborate the story for a jury is to prove Erin mentally competent, meaning she was capable of carrying out her threats. To all involved, even Kelly, it was clear that she knew what she was doing, she was a mastermind, but to everyone on the outside, they were just a bunch of teenagers wrapped up in a murder.

The girl that everyone thought was Erin still hadn’t been identified, they had to dig up the casket for the second time. The only way they were able to ID it the first time was by the previous fracture and bracelet, but there are a lot of people in the Chicago area that have broken their left wrist.

So, with no new information and the date for the trial to begin still months away, they all lived life normally. Well, as normal as it could be after everything they went through. And normal for Hailey meant waking up every night screaming.

Trudy looked at her husband, who was standing in the doorway. They shared a look, a very familiar one. They repeated the same steps every night, like some cruel rehearsed dance. Trudy waited patiently for Hailey to calm down, just seated on the floor next to her. “Hailey, sweetie, you’re safe.” She repeated.

Every night it was the same, Hailey would snap out of whatever daze she was in and apologize profusely. “I’m sorry, I got scared…” She started.

“Shhh,” Trudy said, placing a hand on her leg, “It’s okay.”

Hailey nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m good, you all can go back to sleep.” She said, glancing at her uncle.

Trudy just nodded, she learned many nights ago not to fight her on it, “Alright. Goodnight Hailey, we love you.” She said, squeezing her shoulder.

“Love you too.” Hailey said, watching them retreat back to their room. They left the door open like they always did, Hailey sighed rolling over and grabbing her phone. She sent a quick text to her boyfriend.

Hailey: :(

It was a system that they started a few weeks ago. The first few nights Jay would stay up with her on the phone, or she would call him after Trudy and Randy finally left, but the lack of sleep began to play a part in their relationship. So, they decided that every time Hailey had a nightmare (or Jay, he wasn’t clean of them) they would text the other a frowny face, so that in the morning they would know what the other had gone through the night before without having to talk about it. It has proved to be useful.

Hailey laid down again, willing herself to close her eyes, but she couldn’t. Sleep was too vulnerable, so she laid there awake, just waiting for the sun to rise on (hopefully) a better day.

…

“What do you mean you haven’t picked out a costume?” Kim asked, as Jay slammed his door shut. Like every morning, they were all crowded around his truck, waiting until the last minute to head to class. The gossip still hadn’t died down, they were still the topic of every conversation, so they avoided it as much as they could.

Hailey shrugged. “I thought we weren’t dressing up.” She said, looking up at her boyfriend, who nodded in agreement. Halloween was tomorrow, and of course Kim had plans for all of them.

“No, I said we weren’t dressing up as the characters from scooby doo…” Kim said, giving Adam a pointed look.

Adam held up his hands in surrender, “Like I said, I’m sorry, it’s too soon.” He said, stifling a laugh.

Kevin rolled his eyes, “Yeah, you all know I’d have to be scooby. And I’m not dressing up like a dog.” He snapped.

“But Kev,” Adam said, faking a frown. “I thought you were my dawg.” Kevin glared at him, faking a punch as Adam jumped back.

“Anyway,” Kim started, looking back at Hailey and Jay, and ignoring the antics behind her. “I promised Stella we would all be at her party tomorrow night, you guys will be the only people without a costume.”

Hailey sighed, “Kim, we will get costumes, I promise.” Kim opened her mouth, but the warning bell cut her off. Hailey smiled, grabbing Jay’s hand. “We’ll see you guys later.” She said, before pulling him away.

“Please tell me you have costume ideas,” Jay said quietly.

“Nope.” They rounded the corner, Jay leaning down and stealing a kiss before they entered their classroom. Criminal justice was a little harder to sit through than it was before, but somehow Jay had managed to get his grade up.

They took their normal seats in the back of the class, waiting for the teacher to begin. “I have an idea,” Jay said, leaning on his hand.

“Okay?” Hailey said cautiously.

“I’ll be a firefighter, and you be a Dalmatian.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Hailey scoffed, “No.”

“Okay. You be the firefighter and I’ll be the Dalmatian.” He said, smirking.

Hailey shook her head, “Try again.” Jay fake pouted, retreating back to his half of the shared desk.

Finally, their teacher decided to start class, cutting their conversation off for the time being. After about 30 minutes of notes, he passed out an assignment, leaving them to work on their own. Jay turned to face her, smiling. “I’ve got another idea.” He said, Hailey gave him a pointed look. “Squints and the lifeguard from the sandlot.”

“Why? So every time someone asks us who we are you get to lay on the ground and make me kiss you?” She questioned.

“Exactly.” He deadpanned.

“Jay-”

“Okay, okay.” He said, laughing. He loved it when she got all riled up. “Peter Pan and Tinkerbell, cause you’re so short-”

“Jay!” She said, smacking his bicep.

He laughed harder, “Okay, in all seriousness...we can be Jack and Rose from the titanic…” He watched Hailey’s face slowly morph into slight agreeance, “And Kev could be the iceberg.”

“I’m done with you.” Hailey said shortly, stifling her own laugh.

Jay laughed at his own joke, watching his girlfriend pretend to be aggravated with him. “You love me, you know it.”

“Unfortunately…” Hailey said under her breath. She took a deep breath, “What about Danny and Sandy from Grease?”

Jay smirked, “You in leather pants? Perfect.”

“You’re hopeless.”

…

The next day, Hailey sat in Kim’s bedroom getting ready. They had about an hour before the boys were supposed to come pick them up. Kim and Adam were going as Romeo and Juliet, while Hailey and Jay had finally settled on Rapunzel and Flynn Rider. Kevin had grouped up with some of the boys from his team, they were going as zombie football players, very original…

“Kim, you’re going to have to do this.” Hailey said, laughing in defeat.

Kim smiled, taking over for her. She was waiting for her to ask for help, she’d been struggling to french braid her hair for almost twenty minutes. “I got it.” They sat there for a while in silence, Kim carefully laying pieces of blonde hair over the others, she glanced at Hailey in the mirror, noticing the blank look on her face. “How are you doing?”

Hailey’s head snapped up to meet her eyes, she caught her off guard. “Uh,” She shrugged, “I’m okay, I guess…”

Kim scoffed, shaking her head. “I’ve said that word so many times recently that I’m not even sure it’s a word anymore.”

“Yeah…” Hailey said, letting her thoughts wander. “I get that.” And she did, it was like she used the word as a shield. It was her response to everything, and she wasn’t okay, not that it was really a secret. None of them were okay, but saying it made it feel like they were. And deception was something worth clinging onto.

“You know, we never talked about-”

“We don’t need to.” Hailey said, cutting her off.

Kim eyed her cautiously, “Okay.” She wanted to talk, but she didn’t feel like she had any right to push Hailey to. Not after what happened. “Done.” She said, a few minutes later, taking a step back to admire her work.

“Thanks,” Hailey said with a genuine smile, picking up the jar of flower clips they had bought that morning. “You think I should just put these everywhere?”

Kim nodded, “Yeah, I think so.” She reached down, clicking shuffle on a playlist, a random Taylor Swift song playing. They were both done talking.

An hour later, the two of them were sitting in Kim’s kitchen talking to her mom when Jay and Adam arrived. Adam just let himself in the front door, Jay choked on a laugh as he waltzed in like he owned the place.

The boys appeared in the kitchen, “Honey, I’m home.” He said, passing Kim and hugging her mom. Kim rolled her eyes as they all laughed, Jay’s hand finding Hailey’s back like it always did. He was so happy, even though life was still crazy, he was ridiculously happy. Watching Hailey smile and Adam joke around like he used to (before they used it as a distraction) was so nice, and familiar and just so damn good.

Hailey peered up at him, grinning as he pecked her lips. “Alright, let’s get a picture so you all can get out of here.” Claire said, ushering them together. Jay stood next to Adam, both of them holding their girlfriends securely against their waists. They all smiled brightly, relaxing after the click.

They quickly bid their goodbyes, making their way out to Jay’s truck. Hailey slid easily into the passenger seat, despite her nude heels (that she was already regretting), while Adam and Kim got in the back. They pulled out of the driveway, and somehow Adam ended up with aux cord. Somewhere in between an old Maroon 5 song and the Weekend, Jay’s hand found hers on the center console.

Hailey looked down at it and smiled. It was a simple thing that they did every single time they rode together, but it really symbolized how much things had changed. Hailey thought back to the day that he kept his eyes trained on the road, back when she cut him off when he tried to apologize. It was only two months ago, but they were different, everything was different, everything was better.

Jay followed her gaze to their conjoined hands, mimicking her smile. She didn’t have to say anything, he knew exactly what she was thinking. Part of him wishes he could go back and stay with her then, he felt like they had wasted so much time, but the other part of him knew that they were better for it. Neither of them were ready for what they have now, then. And what they have was worth the wait.

Finally they reached their destination, Jay having the park pretty far away due to how many people were already there. They got out, Jay rounding the truck to help Hailey down, even though she hadn’t needed it in a long time. The four of them headed towards the decent sized house, they could hear the music thumping from outside. Hailey slipped her hand in Jay’s, gripping his forearm.

Jay noticed the look of discomfort on her face, leaning down. “Hey, you okay?” He asked, eying her.

Hailey nodded, holding on a little tighter. “Yeah, just don’t want to get lost in the crowd.” Jay nodded, believing her lie. She couldn’t really explain it, but she had a terrible feeling in her stomach and the thought of being lost in a sea of people made her want to throw up. Even though it was over, Hailey still found herself looking over her shoulder and watching out for her. And even though all of that meant she was nowhere near being in a party mood, she wasn’t going to bring everyone else down, they all needed a fun night.

They made their way through the crowded makeshift dance floor, and found Kevin in a living area near the back of the house where he was sitting with Stella, Conner, Matt and Sylvie. “Hey guys,” He called, jumping up and clapping Adam’s back.

Stella stood, hugging Kim tightly, “I’m glad you guys could make it.”

Kim squeezed her, “Me too.”

Stella backed away, touching Hailey’s arm affectionately and giving her a kind smile that she returned. “I know it’s kind of crazy,” Stella laughed, “If you need something or just a break, the keys to the upstairs doors are hidden right under the doors, just inside the rooms.” She glanced at the obvious couples, winking. “I trust you guys.”

They all nodded, Kim blushing, a chorus of “great” and “thanks” sounding. The group dispersed, the five of them huddling up. “Obviously Hailey and I are gonna stick together, if we get lost, meet back here at midnight and we’ll head out?” Jay suggested.

“Sounds good,” Kev said, nodding.

Adam agreed too. “That works for me.”

That works for me…

Hailey flinched at those words, instinctively squeezing her eyes shut. Her breath caught in her throat. The image of a pulled gun flashing through her brain. She grimaced, trying to push the thoughts away. “Hailes…” She took another deep breath, doing everything in her power to keep her fear at bay. “Hailes.” Someone said, harsher, snapping her out of her daze.

“Yeah?” She asked quickly.

Kim eyed her cautiously, “I asked if you wanted a water…”

“Oh,” Hailey shook her head, “No, I’m good, thanks though.” She watched as Kim and Adam slowly disappeared into the crowd, her eyebrowed cinched together.

Jay stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the rest of the room, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, concern clear in his bright green eyes.

Hailey nodded vigorously, “I’m good, I promise.” She said, his face didn’t change. He didn’t believe her. Hailey reached up, pulling him to her level and attaching their lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she deepened it, pulling him even closer. Jay did his best not to get lost in the kiss, but with her it was so hard. She pulled away slowly, peering up at him. “Jay, I’m okay.” Kim was right, it didn’t sound like a word anymore.

Jay sighed, admitting defeat. “Okay.” He laced their hands together, leaning down and kissing her slowly before guiding her to the dance floor. They stood near the edge, Jay’s hand sitting on her hips as they swayed in sync to the fast music. They danced for a while before some of Jay’s teammates interrupted them.

Hailey stood securely at his side as they spoke, absently listening to the trashy rap music that was playing loudly throughout the room. “Fuck, shit, bitch…” The sound of a gun being cocked rang through the speakers and Hailey screamed. Suddenly the eyes of everyone around her staring at her. She was frozen in place, forcing the terrible memories away, but she couldn’t.

“Hailey.” Jay said, but her feet had a mind of their own and she was running towards the staircase, her lungs burning, she couldn’t get in a good breath. “Hailey!” Jay called after her, not even bothering to say goodbye to his team before taking off.

Hailey booked it up the stairs, dropping to the ground in front of the first door she saw, grasping aimlessly for the key. She slumped against the door, tears streaming down her face as she fought to breathe. Jay booked it towards her, crouching down and finding the key easily. He unlocked the door, then swept his hysterical girlfriend off the floor, carrying her into the room and setting her on the bed. She was still heaving in front of him, and Jay placed two hands on either side of her face. “Hailey, Hailey look at me.” He said, but her eyes stayed trained on his chest. “Baby, you’re safe, look at me, please.” She clenched her eyes shut, more tears falling down her face. When she opened them again, they met his and she launched herself into his arms.

Jay held her to him, rocking them gently as she cried into his neck. “I-I thought-” She stuttered, sobs wracking her body.

“I know, I know.” He said, trying to calm her.

“I thought it was over…” She said, and Jay felt his heart clench in his chest.

He ran his hand through her braided hair, no doubt destroying it. “It is, it’s all over, you’re safe. We’re safe.” For some reason that made her cry harder, maybe because she hadn’t for the past month, she had been bottling up her feelings to protect herself and everyone else. Because even though she was, she hadn’t felt safe in a long time.

Hailey pulled away after a long time, utterly exhausted. Jay couldn’t take the look of defeat on her safe, she looked so tired, so broken, that it scared him. How could he not have known how much pain she was in?

She couldn’t bear to look at him, so she kept her gaze fixed on her lap. He placed his hand on her thigh, and Hailey laid one on top of it. She sniffled, using her free hand to wipe the never ending tears from her eyes. “I’m okay.”

…

The following Monday, Hailey sat in the passenger seat of Jay’s truck. After the events of Saturday night, Jay had no choice but to loop in Trudy and Randall, he had to after he had failed to do so before. They spent the rest of the weekend convincing Hailey to see someone, to talk about everything they had been through.

It was probably the trauma left over from her parents, but the stigma that therapy made you weak was ingrained in Hailey’s mind, and convincing her to make an appointment was no easy task.

That’s how they ended up sitting in the parking lot of a private practice right after school, Hailey’s leg bouncing nervously up and down. Jay lifted their intertwined hands off the center console, kissing the back of hers. “I’m going to be here waiting, all I ask is that you go in there and try.” He said, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

Hailey smiled softly, nodding. She leaned across the console and kissed him slowly, hoping that she was able to portray just how much love she had for him and trust she had in him through it. Jay pulled away, taking her in. “I love you, Hailey Upton.”

“I love you, Jay Halstead.” She said.

“Now, go kick some ass.” He said and she laughed, opening the truck door. She shut it, giving him one last look before walking inside the doors.

She sat down in one of the waiting room chairs after signing in, a few minutes later an older man with big glasses popped his head out of the back. “Hailey?”

She stood, “Yes sir.”

The man smiled, “Come with me.” He led her back to an office, gesturing for her to sit on the couch while he sat in the chair across from her. “I’m Dr. Charles, but you can call me Daniel or Dan, or really whatever makes you comfortable.” He explained.

Hailey nodded, shifting nervously. “So, how does this work?” She asked.

“However you want it to, we can talk or not talk about anything you want.” He said, leaning back in his chair.

“Okay,” Hailey glanced at the ground, “The-There’s a lot…”

“That’s okay.”

Hailey grimaced, finally looking at him. “Where do I start?” She asked.

Dr. Charles smiled. “How about the beginning?”

Hailey sighed, taking a few deep breaths, ready to start confronting all the demons that she had been fighting for so long.

“Tell me everything.”

...

A/N: This is long but please, please, please read it!!

First, this is the end of this story, but it is not THE end! There will be a sequel and if you want to see a sneak peak, you can find it HERE. I am so so excited to continue exploring this version of these characters, and don’t worry, the next installment will be just as exciting as this one!

Second, thank you so so so so much to everyone who has shown love to and supported this story. It really means the world to me, you have no idea. This has been such an amazing experience and I have learned so much from writing this, so thank you so much for reading. You guys are truly incredible, and writing has helped me through a tough time in my life. I’m going to say thank you a million time, but thank you, thank you, thank you <3

This story evolved so much lol: in the beginning I had no plan, and then it changed like five times, and we ended up here, so here’s a few things that didn’t make it in.

Nadia was supposed to die in chapter 19, but I decided against it…

I debated Kevin and Stella getting together, don’t hate me for this ahaha

I almost made Kim lose her hearing, but I wasn’t sure I could do the storyline justice with everything else going on

I debated killing Adam (I’M SORRY, i’m sorry…)

And finally (cause you don’t need to know all of my secrets) I ALMOST broke up Upstead at the end

Anyway, there’s some behind the scenes action if you’re interested.

Back to the point: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SUPPORTING ME AND THIS STORY, I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART, and i cannot wait to embark on this next journey together!!

So much love,

Anna

@lissethsrojas @puckluck28 @fuckyeahkillianemma @chilly7188 @thebigapocalypsewolf @karihighman @ruzek-halstead @anotheronechicagobog @snowwhite013 @tracysupton @angelsjedi @carissalizz

#jay halstead #hailey upton #upstead #upstead au #kim burgess #adam ruzek #burzek au #burzek #kevin atwater #erin lindsay #stella kidd #trudy platt #chicago pd #kelly severide #one chicago #chicago pd au

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

Audio

Playlist Feels

*SHORT SERIES

Part 1: Church (smut)

Member: pilot juyeon without the strikeout :D

Genre: holy water smut idk pls send help

“I'll make you feel like never before”

“so what did happen after you got back to your place with your secret admirer?” sunwoo side-eyed you, trying his best not to completely turn his attention from the road to you.

hyunjun was leaning forwards and sticking his head between you and sunwoo, arms resting on the top of the seats.

“uh,” you fumble through your bag, pretending to make sure all the necessary items you needed were in it. “nothing... much.”

there was absolutely no way you could’ve told sunwoo or hyunjun what you were like when you were drunk and in the mood to play games with a stranger.

it didn’t matter if you’ve been friends for so long; you knew they wouldn’t shut up about it once they knew.

“‘nothing much’?” hyunjun scoffs, noticing the flush that was appearing on your cheeks. “what, did you two sit around and watch a movie while you retched? because i’m pretty sure you had a truckload of vodka.”

sunwoo snorted and pressed his foot against the accelerator when the green light appeared.

“we just... hooked up, that’s all.”

hyunjun raises a skeptical brow at you, squinting his eyes as you struggle not to look at him. “hooked up or hooked up and smashed?”

“why does it even matte-- shouldn’t you be strapped to your seat?” you turn around and start whacking him on his head. “sunwoo literally just learnt how to drive. how are you so calm with sitting in his car without a seat belt?”

sunwoo opened his mouth in exaggerated shock, quickly glancing at you while you were shoving hyun jun back into the back seat by his head. “hey! i could’ve declined your request to drive you to the airport!”

“my request? you were the one who said you’d drive me without even giving me an option,” you turn back to face the front, glaring at him while you said it.

“‘you were the one who said you’d drive m--’ ow!” he winced when you punch him in the arm.

the scent of the airport wafts through your nose the way waffles would smell to anybody else. travelling has always been something you enjoyed, and now that you were finally going overseas for a job opportunity, it made the wait and the effort all the more worthwhile.

hyunjun helps pull your luggage and sunwoo becomes your mobile clothes hanger while he carries your coat and you triple check to make sure you’ve got everything you need for the next year in new york.

you reach the departure hall, and the familiar sight of the immigration officers at the gantry checking the passports of other passengers was so comforting. but you turn around, only to see hyunjun giving you a little pout and sunwoo looking away, trying not to become emotional.

“i’ll be back in a flash,” you whisper, pulling hyunjun into a tight hug. the ankle boots you were wearing boosts you up about two inches, so you were able to wrap your arms around his neck without much effort.

“call us when you touchdown, okay? no matter the time,” he instructs, pulling you away from him and ruffling your hair. you nod and give him a bro-fist, turning to sunwoo, the man who has an ego the size of a horse.

“aw, come on~ don’t cry...” you tease loudly, grabbing his arm and shaking it like you were trying to wake him up.

“ah, ah, okay, okay, stop it,” he waves his hand infront of you before raising his arm. you shove yourself into his chest and tighten your wrap around his torso. “don’t come back with a baby, please.”

“i’m there for work, not to fuck around,” you snort and remove yourself from his warmth. he hands you your coat and you wrap your fingers around the hard plastic handle of your big, bulky luggage. passport in hand and constantly looking your shoulder back at them, you let the immigration officer check your identification in your passport and he lets you through.

“bye!” you mouth to the two of them once you were in the hall, aggressively waving while they try to wave you off. you give them one last smile and turn, dragging your heavy luggage behind you while you walked to the designated gated.

you look out the glass windows on the other side of the departure hall and the lights from all the planes outside looked like stars hanging too low from the night sky. the airport was one of your favourite places to be because there was never a moment this place was asleep. there was always a flight somewhere, and there were always people waiting around.

just knowing that mankind had come so far to let ourselves travel the world to the most magnificent views of the world was just so endearing to believe.

it was a little difficult to believe you were going to new york yourself, to be part of a production company that you’ve been working so hard and long for.

you were about to shove your earpieces into your ear canals when your train of self-reflection broke off due to a conversation you overheard.

but it wasn’t the content of what they were talking about.

it was someone’s voice.

you look up, only to see a group of air stewards and stewardesses dragging their small luggage behind them, all fit in their uniforms.

then you eyes catch sight of the lone pilot amongst them.

you would’ve tripped over something if you didn’t abruptly stop in your tracks.

“ah, he’s here already?”

“yeah, he said he was sending off a family member here anyway.”

you could feel your throat drying up like the sahara desert as they walk past you, a safe distance away.

it was him.

the stranger who...

you deemed a worthy opponent...

in bed.

he’s a pilot?!

you suck in a deep breath and proceed to stick your earpiece into your ears, trying to mount your attention to your phone and your music of choice while you awkwardly trail behind the group of them.

but you couldn’t handle walking behind them like this, not when you just had a one-night stand with the pilot. what were the odds of even running into him for the second time in less than 24 hours?

you break away from your path and head for the nearest cafe, grabbing yourself a cup of coffee to keep you awake on first few hours of the flight.

that was what sunwoo told you to do anyway, to help you adjust to the time difference and prevent jet-lag.

you find yourself seated in the lounge meant for the business class ticket holders, and there weren’t many passengers around. most of them were in suits and blazers, not to mention caucasian. it made you feel a little out of place, your white turtle neck and jeans with the coat draped over your forearm made you look like you were going on a holiday.

the coffee finishes in your stomach, and the book you were reading becomes a little boring when the idea of going to new york was becoming nothing short of reality. you tilt your chin to the ceiling and let your neck ache from the constant looking down, and your attention naturally gravitates to the movement in the lounge.

a stewardess had just come out from one of the lounge rooms to talk to the officer manning the gate for the business class, and you realise she was one of the stewardesses in the group you saw before.

you frown to yourself, shaking the ignorant, unrealistic thoughts out of your head as you try to continue your book.

but the coffee rushes through your digestive system a little too quickly and you pull out the earpiece, grabbing all your belongings and searching for an empty private room where you could leave your things before running off to look for a bathroom.

the hallways look a little like hotel rooms and the smell of diffused aromas were slowly getting to you. you turn around the corner, eyes digging into the words of your book with your hands full.

you step on someone’s shoe, and your left shoulder rams into someone’s arm, the impact causing you to drop the book on the floor.

“oh, sorry! my apologies, miss.”

you took a step back, feeling a little sorry about being so engrossed in your book. “oh, crap-- no, i wasn’t--”

your entire body turns to stone as you immediately register the face in front of you. the book was held out to you, your hands balled into tight fists and you could feel all the blood rush from all over your body to your face.

it takes him a second to realise who he’s bumped into, and a look of pleasant surprise pulls a smile across his lips.

what the hell is he doing in here?

“are... you here for a flight?” the book was still held out for you, and he raises a brow in curiosity. you swallow in attempt to dampen your dry, hoarse throat at the sight of him. he was in the pilot’s uniform: navy blue blazer, tie and white dress shirt. all he was missing was the cap.

“are you alright?”

his small laughter pulls you away from your thoughts, and you realise you had been scanning him from head to toe. he traps the book between the side of his chest and elbow, eyes never leaving yours. he reaches out to your passport that was messily stuck in the pocket of your coat, careful not to fold or tear any of the small documents stuck in its pages.

he flips it open and his eyes widen ever so slightly when he checks your boarding pass, and he looks up through his lashes at you with a look of satisfaction plastered on his face.

oh, no.

“nice to know that i’ll be your captain for the next 16 hours or so,” he neatly stacks your ticket and boarding pass back into your passport, gently placing it back into the pocket where he took it from. “well, the flight’s about 14 and a half hours so, give and take.”

it was so difficult to believe that the man who completely ruined you last night, and beat you at your own game, was standing right in front of you. nicely fitted into a professional uniform, and you were going to be on the same flight as him for the next 16 hours?!

he removes the book from under his arm and waves it next to his head, already used to you standing there like a statue for the last few minutes or so.

“do you still want this book? or am i going to need to keep it until you’re done being an iceberg?”

your mind yanks you back to the previous night, when he asked you different questions in the exact same tone.

“can i have their permission to bring you elsewhere? or are they responsible for sending you home safely?”

“you don’t happen to still be thinking about last night, are you?” your vision comes back into focus and the smaller gap between the two of you was now apparent. your pupils flit around him, noticing that there was nobody down the hall, because everybody was in the waiting area, too busy working on their laptops and ipads to even think of coming to the private rooms.

the hell does he mean ‘still’? how does one forget such a night so easily?

“judging by the lack of vocabulary you have right now, i guess you are.”

you blink in embarrassment, gulping and looking away in hopes that the dimmer lighting the hallway had to offer was going to mask your reddening, burning face.

he straightens himself, hand still holding onto your book.

this could not get any worse.

“well,” your urge to pee has long gone, and you were already turning on your heels to back away from him. “i’m gonna go and--”

“whoa, whoa, wait,” he grabs you by the arm, and he gently tugs you back towards him. “so, are you?”

his face was so disgustingly innocent, you wish you had your book to whack him across his face.

but that wasn’t you, that was you when you’re drunk.

it was difficult to come to terms with how different you were with a little alcohol confidence, but you’ve learnt to live with it once you realised you were your own champion.

that is, until this guy came along.

“you’re awfully quiet right now, don’t you think?” he looks up above you where a digital clock was hung. watching only his eyes shift but his entire body doesn’t sends a dangerous signal to your head. “especially with whatever you were saying last night.”

your heart was about to rip itself out of its cage and you purse your lips, trying to writhe out of his grip. but his hold reminds you of him yanking you to the edge of your bed by the ankles, and you mentally berate yourself for even thinking about it in this moment.

he holds the book with only his thumb and index finger, the rest of his hands looking for the handle of the nearest private room and pushing it open.

your eyes widen when the realisation hits you in the gut, and before you knew it, the door swings shut behind your luggage. he locks the door and pries your fingers off the luggage handle. pushing it into the corner of the room by the sofa, he places the book down on the cushion with caution.

“if it makes you feel any better,”

his large strides make it easy for him to reach your feet in just a few steps. you grit your teeth and feel your rear hit the small dressing table in the room. the lights lining the mirror were the only source of illumination, and since it was coming from behind you, it did nothing but highlight all his features. he cages you with both his hands gripping onto the edge of the table, and your constant shifting back into the furniture pushes it further into the wall as if it wasn’t already placed against it.

“i can’t stop thinking about it either.”

his leans forward and presses his lips into yours, the taste of him dangerously intoxicating. your eyes flutter shut, the kiss sends chills down your spine and into your fingertips.

the previous night, you could taste the alcohol he had been drinking, not to mention the vodka that you were mercilessly pouring down your own throat.

but now all you were tasting was the fresh mint of what smelled like toothpaste.

his hands travel up to your waist and he hoists you upwards, high enough for him to place you on the table. he pushes your legs open by your knees before resting his palms on your thighs.

the surface of the table wasn’t very wide, so it was easy for you to feel the material of his blazer brushing across your inner thighs. your hands were gripping onto his forearms, his warm hands pressing on the material of your pants while you enjoy the taste of mint lingering on his tongue.

he breaks the kiss and huffs, licking his lips and offering you a laugh through a smirk. “you really took me by surprise when you didn’t say anything outside,” he grabs your hands and rest them on his belt, the bold move struggles to anchor itself into your logic. “for a moment, i thought you were a twin sister or something.”

he dips his nose into your neck and to your ‘unfortunate’ dismay, he remembers your sweet spot. your eyes seal shut and a gasp gets sucked down your throat, but the sound was so sharp and apparent, even you felt awkward.

his palm flies up to your face and covers your mouth, turning your head so you were looking at him dead in the eye.

“there are no cameras but this room isn’t soundproof.”

his voice was so lustfully low, you hated how needy you were getting, even in the fucking airport.

“so do me a favour and try not to make a sound.”

his hand slowly leaves your lips and your blood starts to rush south when he starts fiddling with the button on your pants.

burying his lips between yours again, your fingers instinctively start to undo his belt, the cold metal sending little shocks through your hands.

he aggressively pulls your pants off from under you, and he pulls it over your boots so that they were now on the floor in a crumpled mess.

the amber lighting of the room paired with the diffused scent of wormwood was only alleviating every sense in you. goosebumps erupt all over your legs upon the contact with the cool air.

you undo the button on his pants and the zipper slips down easily with the growing bulge under his boxers. he pulls away and snakes his left arm around your waist in attempt you pull you nearer to him, and your hands push down the material of his underwear to free his length. you attach your eyes to his as your hands now pressed flat against the back of his neck, begging him to kiss you again.

he complies, tasting the remnants of the coffee you previously drank. you feel his fingers push your underwear aside and your wetness gets exposed to the cold air, sending shivers up through your gut.

he breaks the kiss for a moment to wrap your legs around his waist and over his long blazer. lining himself with your entrance, he lets you swallow him inch by inch.

a strained moan slips out through your lips, and he decides to tame it by wrapping his fingers around your throat. he doesn’t apply much pressure, but you know it’s a reminder for what he told you before.

his lips find your sweet spot on your neck again as he picks up the pace. every thrust was so well controlled that the table doesn’t ram itself against the wall. the only sounds that were audible were the soft grunts in the back of his throat and the light mewls that were spilling out your mouth.

your hands grip onto the edge of the table, and you feel them start to whiten with the strength you were investing. his pelvic bone begins hitting your sensitive nub, and you harshly bite on your bottom lip to prevent any lewd sounds from spewing out.

the wrap on your neck starts to tighten against your skin, and for a moment you felt as high as you did last night.

this man was making you feel drunk even when you were not.

the heavy breaths that were escaping through his lips were landing on your neck where his fingers didn’t cover, and he starts hitting you in places inside your core that you didn’t feel before.

you could tell he was worried he was choking you, for his grip loosened and the palm of his free hand flattens itself against the curvature of your hip.

continuous thrusts and bucks of his hips against yours was producing a heat that was beginning to fog up the mirror behind you. you could feel your fingertips getting numb from holding onto the edge of the table so violently, and the tingling sensation in your heat comes back in less than 24 hours.

“oh, shit--” the words were hoarse and comes out almost like a whisper, your eyes rolling so far back into your head your vision flashed white.

he provides you a few more thrusts to let you reach your high, his lips finding yours just before you could let your orgasm expose itself through your lips.

without breaking the kiss, you feel him empty your entrance and he shoots his load onto your legs like the previous night.

the kisses were sloppy and slightly exhausted, your chests were heaving up and down with ecstacy and satisfaction, but it doesn’t last very long when he pulls away and your eyes begin to focus on the blazer he still had on.

the uniform he had on while he was fucking you in a private room of a business lounge in the airport.

he gulps, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down under his skin on his throat, and you lean your head back towards the mirror. he pulls out a drawer next to your legs (that were now dangling limply) at the edge by the table, and he finds an elegant, silver box with little napkins in them.

the airport logo was printed on it, and you couldn’t help but marvel at yourself and how huge of a whore he’s made you.

without a word, he cleans you before he cleaned himself, and within minutes that you felt like seconds, he was already patting down the creases of his pants and blazer. looking at the mirror behind you, he fixes his hair and straightens his tie, eyes travelling to you, who you know looked utterly ruined, even without seeing yourself in the mirror.

a smirk appears on his lips, but it suddenly -- abruptly -- turns into a service smile.

his ability to switch back and forth was nothing less than demonic.

“later when you reach the gate, tell her you know the captain.”

you scoff, wearily rolling your head against the mirror and shaking it against the ceiling.

“and how the hell will she know i’m not just messing with her?” you eye him with tired eyes, watching him gently tug on his collar around his neck.

“because i know yours now, y/n.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 3: No Mercy

A/N: DRINKING MORE HOLY WATER

#timetohajima #juyeon smut #the boyz smut #the boyz juyeon #lee juyeon #juyeon #the boyz scenario #juyeon scenario

173 notes · View notes

eleanorbloom · 4 years

Text

When You’re Ready Ch. 11

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warning: Angst and cursing.

A/N: We are already halfway through this journey and things are finally getting interesting, so thank you all so much for all the support I’ve received and for stuck with me till this point. ❤

Taglist: @utterlyinevitable @binny1985 @shanzay44 @choicesficwriterscreations @laiba-the-person @starrystarrytrouble @lahellacute @lucy-268 @aylamreads @cinnamonspongecake @romewritingshop @angela8756 @bratzlahela

Let me know if you wanna me added or removed from the taglist!

Enjoy!

_______

Chapter 11. Don’t Start Now

Don’t show up, don’t come out

Don’t start caring about me now,

The following weeks were calmer than previous. The conversation Eleanor had with Ethan seemed to work because, since that day, he stopped directing his anger toward her, and instead, he did what he was good at in second place: ignore her.

Eleanor didn’t mind, obviously. If she confronted him in the first place, was because she was tired of his childish attitude and knew very well that his next obvious reaction would be ignoring her like he did the past months. She needed peace and that was the only way to get it.

Still, she couldn’t deny that the situation was painful. She never expected to spend the first months in the Diagnostics Team in such a bad position with Ethan, when it had to be the best time to learn from him, learn from his mentor, the person she had idolized since she was in high school. And all because he was jealous.

The silver lining in all this was that it soothed things with Bryce. As she didn’t rant about Ethan with him, the next weeks were very sweet and calm in the company of Keiki. For some reason, Eleanor clicked very well with her. Perhaps it was the fact that she had many similitudes with Bryce, even if they hadn’t lived together for ten years, and Eleanor thought she was undeniably attracted to that, so it couldn’t be any different with Keiki.

Some nights a week, she would stay with the Lahelas and have sleepovers in the living room to talk and watch movies until they would fall asleep on the mattress of the new bed Bryce had bought for Keiki. Some other nights they would play cards, or just talk about the day and about life.

Eleanor would even chat throughout the day with her too.

“Wait, my sister is sending you memes?”—Bryce asked, really offended while they were taking a break in the cafeteria—"Why she doesn’t do that with me?”

“Because she likes me more than you.”

“But I’m his brother!”

“Hey, take it as she has the same good taste as you do. Another thing you two have in common.”—She winked at him and Bryce couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Mmh you’re right. Spending so much time with me it’s getting on you, uh?”—He whispered proudly, leaning to her to kiss her in the cheek.

“Couldn’t be any other way”

“She’s really disappointed when I get home and you don’t show up. It hurts my feelings.”

Eleanor released a hard laugh at his pouting lips and his puppy eyes just like a Golden Retriever.

“Ohmygod, finally I’m seeing your Golden Retriever side. Are you jealous of attention?”

“What do you think? Keiki came for me but only wants to see you.”

“She just enjoys my company, a female presence, that’s all. But what she really needs it’s her brother. You have nothing to worry about, Goldie.”

She stroked his cheek and a second later, he furrowed his brows.

“Goldie?”

“That’s my new nickname to you when you’re behaving like a Golden Retriever, just like now.”

“Excuse me? You still have no pet names for me, but I got a freaking dog nickname? Seriously, Bloom?”

“Bloom? You think you can offend me by calling me like that?”—She grinned—"We talked about this. I’m not comfortable enough to use pet names yet, Bryce. But it’s a step, don’t you think?”

“It is a pet name after all”

“God, you’re impossible.”—Eleanor sighed, getting up from the seat with the empty paper cup in her hand.—“I gotta go”

“Don’t ignore me.”

“See? You’re such a Goldie.—She laughed again.—"Gosh, you’re sooo cuteee”

Eleanor placed a hand over his hair and patted him softly, just like she would do with a real puppy. Bryce scowled her, feigning to be offended.

A moment later, she leaned close to his face and looked at him tenderly.

“I love you, Goldie.”

Then she kissed him, a soft brush against his lips that made him cackle before she parted her lips from him.

“Goddamn, you know how to manipulate me, don’t you?”—He stood up from the chair and pulled her in a tight embrace—"Love you too, princess.”

“Good boy.”—She praised, hugging him back before untangling herself from his arms and dragged him outside the cafeteria so both could get back to work.

Eleanor was snuggled to Bryce, deeply asleep when she heard a knock in her bedroom door. It took her a while to wake up and go to see what it was. She didn’t even think about how poorly dressed she was. Just a rose satin tank top and her panties.

“This better be important”—She murmured opening the door mid-third knock, only to find a tall figure with deep blue eyes in front of her—"Oh!”

Ethan was standing on the other side his face impassive. He tried to focus on her face, but he couldn’t resist roaming his eyes over her body for a few moments.

“Oh, uh good morning.”—He greeted, returning his eyes to her face, only to notice someone behind her, under the sheets of her bed.

“What is it, babe?”—He heard a husky voice and then he saw Bryce stirring under the sheets and looking in their direction with a drowsy expression.

Babe.

Eleanor saw how his face disfigured hearing that single word. And obviously, the fact that Bryce was in her bed, sleeping. Ethan glanced at her stoically, but she could decipher the disappointment when his eyes betrayed him for a split second.

“It’s Dr. Ramsey”—She murmured looking back at Bryce, her cheeks flushed.

“Ramsey?”—Bryce sat up, startled, waking up in an instant.

Ethan followed his gaze.

“Good morning to you too, Dr. Lahela.”—He scowled at him briefly, evidencing how much he was hating that he was there.—"I’m sorry Dr. Bloom, I didn’t know you had company.”

His words sounded like an iceberg that made her shiver even if the room was warm with the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains.

“What are you doing here?”

“We have a case, I need you to dress up and go with me.”

“But is my day off!”

“The Team doesn’t have days off, Bloom. Wear something nice, the board is desperate to impress this patient”

“Okay.”

“Hurry up, I’ll wait outside.”

Eleanor closed the door and looked at Bryce biting her bottom lip, guilty.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry. You better finish this case soon, so you can come back to me.”

“We planned this for weeks. It’s your birthday.”—She pouted, sitting over the edge of the bed, beside him.

“Baby, we celebrated last night.—He took her hands and caressed her palm softly—"I slept with you, I woke up with you, and I have my sister here in Boston, what else can I ask?”

“Well, if you put it that way…”

“Just hurry up and go to my place once you’re done, okay?”

“Okay, promise.”—She leaned to kiss him and then got up to look for a formal dress in her wardrobe until she found a navy-blue corporate dress that had been saving for that kind of occasion.

Bryce chuckled suddenly.

“You saw his face? Oh, man. I know this is cruel, but it was some kind of birthday present to me.”

Bryce crossed his arms behind his head with a satisfied smirk over his face, while he was staring at Eleanor stripping from her clothes and putting on clean underwear.

“What do you mean?”

“His face when he realized I was sleeping in your bed. It was like his eyes were just about to jump out of his face and strangle me.”

“I want to know who thought it was a great idea to let him pass knowing you were here.”

Eleanor unfastened the dress, stepping into him one leg at a time.

“Maybe that person did it on purpose.”—Bryce speculated, standing up from the bed—“C’ mere”

Eleanor took a few steps and turned her back to him so he could zip her dress up.

“I bet was Jackie. She is such a troll and would totally do that.”—She turned to him—“Thank you.”

“If it was her, I have to thank her.”

Eleanor scowled him.

“What? She did you a favor. You didn’t want to tell him, fine. He just found us.”

She stood in silence for a couple of seconds, thinking.

“Yeah, it’s kinda relieving, actually.”

Eleanor conceded, before going to brush her teeth in the bathroom. Even if he had had his suspicions and this was nothing surprising, still she didn’t know how Ethan would react from now on. And what could unleash in her.

When she returned to the room, Bryce was already dressed up.

“Hey, you don’t need to leave. Sleep for a couple of hours more.”

“Nah, I prefer to go home, Keiki has been too much time alone.”

“Well, that’s true.”

Eleanor collected her things, cellphone, keys, and purse, and both left the room.

Once they opened the building door, they found Ethan leaned against a red mini cooper. The moment Ethan exchanged glances with them, he turned around to get in the car. Eleanor stopped a few feet away from the vehicle and smiled at Bryce, her cheeks blushed.

“Well, that’s me. I hope this ends soon.”

“I hope so too. Have a great day, babe.”

“You too, birthday boy.”

She kissed chastely in the lips and then turned to get in the vehicle.

The first consequences of what had happened were seen a few blocks away for her apartment. Ethan started to call her out because if they were doing home service to patients now was only because of her and her decision to pursue wealthy patients to save the Team. But she didn’t waste energy in replying. Instead, she decided to simply turn a deaf ear to any of his outbursts and ignore him the whole ride.

However, when his anger risked the possibility to compete with Mass Kenmore to cure Leland Bloom, one of the wealthiest men in the country, Eleanor decided to speak up. She didn’t brook up for weeks his hurtful words just to let go of a wealthy patient that could probably help to solve two and maybe more patients that don’t have the resources to be treated in any other hospital.

As Ethan left the house after declining the competition Leland Bloom had offered, without consulting with his colleagues, Baz, June, and her followed him outside to talk some sense into him.

“Ethan”—Spurted Baz—“Please, we need this. You know we need this.”

“No, I’m not going-”

“Could you please surgically remove your head from your ass for one second and consider that this is for the Team?—Eleanor interrupted, employing the same words he had used last year when Declan Nash was denying to even have a conversation with him about a possible treatment for sepsis. She wanted him to know how stupid and irrational was being at that moment.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re behaving like a goddamn diva, a freaking a spoiled child, you know? Do you think your ego is bigger than the needs of the Diagnostics Team? How unprofessional of you, seriously.”

Ethan’s face disfigured at words, exposing his embarrassment and mortification. After a few moments, he glanced at his colleagues apologetically.

“I, uh… Spoiled child seems to suit the occasion. And unprofessional. I owe you all an apology.”

Baz and June seemed clearly surprised by the bold words Eleanor had used on him and how she got to tame his anger in just a few seconds when Ethan had been punishing her for weeks after what happened with Gwyneth. When Ethan wasn’t looking at them, Baz raised his thumb, nodding amazed.

After the meeting with Leland Bloom, the team returned to Edenbrook to discuss the possible diagnosis with the information provided by the patient.

“The results will be ready this afternoon, so I’ll be doing rounds while I wait for them”—Eleanor informed after ordering the exams in the Nurses’ Station.

Ethan nodded imperceptibly but didn’t say anything, making Eleanor sigh.

She needed to talk about this. Her colon couldn’t support another day or another week avoiding the topic and hearing his outbursts just like that day. Now that the truth was out, there was no point in avoiding facing it. She looked around to check if there was any sight of June or Baz near, but the hallway was absolutely deserted.

“So, you stopped acting like a spoiled child, but you’re keeping the unprofessional act?”—She asked, standing in front of his desk, arms crossed and serious glare.

“Excuse me?”—Ethan took off his glasses, visibly offended.

“You are clearly pissed off with me because you saw me this morning with Bryce, and if you are bringing personal stuff to our working relationship, let me tell you that you’re being pathetically unprofessional, Ethan.”

“Watch out your tone, Bloom.”

“Watch out your reactions, Ramsey.”—Snaped her, instantly—"You have scolded and snubbed me for weeks just because I’ve ignored all your insinuations, and you can’t keep being like that.”

“Insinuations, what are you talking about?”

“Oh, please. Don’t act like you don’t know it. Since you came back from the Amazon you have waited for me to make a move on you, even if you said we were over for good. And when you realized that I wasn’t gonna play that game, you started to act like an ass just like before you left.”

“Clearly ego issues are contagious, and the scalpel jockey infected you badly.”

“Oh. So why the hell you’ve been acting this way with me, then?”

“Because you went behind my back in contacting Gwyneth Monroe.”

“No, it started before her. When we visited Evelyn Vega’s art exposition you were already acting weird. The fool’s act doesn’t work with me, Ethan.”

He stared thoughtfully, trying to suppress the words that were about to come out of his mouth. He didn’t want to say it. It was against his nature and against the decision he had made. But like everything that involved Eleanor, he was about to act against all his self-control.

“Four months ago you were so… persistent about us being together, and now you’re dating him?”

“A lot of things can happen in four months, you’re smarter than that, Ethan. And should I remind you that you were the one who ended things and only wanted a professional relationship?”

“No, I know that.”

“Then tell me, why is all this fuss really for? We broke up whatever we had four months ago, so clearly my personal life it’s not your concern, and yet it’s messing with our working relationship.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re with him.”

“What do you mean by him?”

“He’s shallow, annoying, egocentric, a scalpel jockey, and you deserve more than that.”

“Don’t you dare to talk about Bryce like that, Ethan.”

Ethan stopped, eyes wide opened, surprised with the almost visceral reaction she had had at hearing his words.

“I’m wrong? Do you know what’s behind all that skin-deep beauty and ego?”

Ethan knew he was more than that, but still, he wasn’t enough for Eleanor. He needed a sharp mind, someone, that challenges her. Someone like him.

“Of course I know him, why the fuck do you think I’ve been with him for three months?”

Since the first moment her intention wasn’t to hurt him, but god, he was being so mean that somehow now she wanted to throw all over his face how much time she had been with Bryce, so he knew this wasn’t an insignificant relationship and that she didn’t spend two whole months crying for his absence. At least not physically, but emotionally, she did.

“D…”—Her words were like a punch in the face. Three months.—“Don’t you see he’s not for you? You deserve better than that, Eleanor.”

Eleanor took a deep breath, containing all her anger. She didn’t want to make a scene. She had to be an adult, but it was difficult when Ethan was acting this irrational and stupid.

“I don’t know who you think you are to talk about someone you clearly don’t know. Not even your status as a second-best diagnostician in the country gives you the superpowers to know a person without really talk or spend time with them.—She took another breath—"That said, I’ll inform you that Bryce has been all the transparent you never were with me in all this time. When I was about to be suspended by the Committee, he was there to give me moral support. When you left for the Amazon, he started inviting me out because he couldn’t stand to see me sad. He saw my pain and did something to relieve me, not like you, that every time you saw me drowning, you preferred to ignore me because it’s easier than to deal with my emotions and yours. When I’m sad, when I can’t deal with this whole situation with you, he is there for me, to supporting and listening to me. So, do you really think I don’t deserve someone like him?”

Ethan felt how his ego was taking hostage of his body, he hated to be this way, but that question had been wandering her mind since the moment he saw Bryce in her bed.

“Do you still love me?”

That question took her by surprise. She knew he would ask her at some point, but not now. Still, she didn’t have intentions to deny it.

“Unfortunately, yes. But it isn’t important, actually.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“Eleanor…”

“Why do you care now?”—She interrupted before he could say anything that could trick her mind.—"You were very clear to me that nothing can happen between us, you ignored me for two months when you left for the Amazon, and now that I’m doing my life you suddenly care? The bollocks, Ethan.”

“I never thought you…”—He stopped mid-sentence.

“That I would move on? That my life would keep going after you? I can’t believe you’re this selfish Ethan. And this egocentric.”

“I don’t mean it like that…”

“I don’t care. Whatever you have to say, save it. You had your chances, and you preferred the easiest path. Punish me and ignore me, and I don’t deserve that.”

Eleanor left the room, her heart racing really fast. She was angry, scared, sad, anxious, guilty. All the stupid feelings Ethan always managed to make her feel, now were invading her mind and heart, threatening to explode inside her. She ran to the nearest restroom she found and once there she locked herself in the cubicle, releasing a sob.

All that had been holding up these weeks since Ethan was back in Boston, was now free. All that had been holding up because of Bryce, because she wanted things to work, but she wasn’t going to make Ethan a regular topic in their relationship. She had shared with Bryce the whole fight and how of an ass he was acting but never told him how she really felt. How devastated she was with the fact that he was ignoring her and scolding her because she had moved on. Never told him how difficult it was not even looking at him in the eyes because she was afraid that she would surrender to her most deep desires. Never told him that this whole situation was unfair because that was a moment to be learning from him, not avoiding him. Instead, she was receiving the worst of him as a person and as a doctor as he was throwing all outside the window because he was jealous.

And now she was feeling angry and more disappointed than ever. She never expected that Ethan would question her choices, especially the person with whom she had to move on. And never expected him to be this prejudicious. That he would suggest that Bryce as her partner was synonymous with insult and indignity.

She felt sick at realizing how blindly selfish he was. And for a person like that, Eleanor couldn’t spend another tear, so after a few deep breaths, she wiped the tears from her face and started to wander around the hospital to find something useful to do.

Half an hour later, she was informed that the results couldn’t be ready that day, so she went back to the office to inform Ethan, in the hopes that she could leave early to spend the rest of the afternoon with Bryce and Keiki.

“Dr. Ramsey, the lab has informed me that the results couldn’t be ready today, there was a problem with previous analysis that had to be made again and that is on top priority, but they’ll be ready tomorrow morning.”

“Alright. You’re discharged, then.”

“Thank you.”

She was about to grab her purse when Ethan stood up from his chair.

“Eleanor, wait.”

She turned to him, her face emotionless.

“I need to understand why.”

“Why what?”

“Why you… moved on so fast when you… you said you love me. How could you leave what we had in the past just after a month? Was all you said a lie?”

Eleanor felt heartbroken. She sensed his pain and how subtly he was acknowledging that after all this time he still couldn’t move on, but at the same time, she couldn’t believe he was questioning her feelings when he had been the one who broke everything they had.

“How… How can you doubt my feelings, Ethan? How?—She said as her voice was breaking—"I was honest with you the whole time. The whole time you were ignoring me I opened up my heart to you, I ridiculed myself in front of you every time I tried to make to your senses. You really think that all that was a trap?”

“No, but…”—Ethan walked towards her and stopped a few inches away as he sensed her discomfort.—"How could you do it so fast and…. with someone so shallow, you deserve better than that. You’re brilliant, you need someone who comprehends your sharp mind…”

“Shut up!”—She roared—"I’m tired of this shit, Ethan. Don’t ever talk about Bryce like that, you hear me? You have no idea…”—A sob escaped from her throat. It really affected her how bad he was treating Bryce—“…how wonderful he is and all the things he had done for me. If you knew, you wouldn’t be saying this bullshit. You should be grateful to him instead.”

“Why you say that?”

“Because he cleaned the mess you made. You were the one that broke me into hundred pieces, and not just when you left, but every time you ignored me and pretended that I didn’t exist, every time you didn’t answer my calls or emails, even when you started to punish me for moving on. You have spent months breaking me, Ethan. In million pieces. And you know who took all the broken pieces of me, who is putting them all together? Him. Like the brilliant scalpel jockey he is, he has been stitching every single piece of me with love, dedication, with patience, with a lot of patience. He has shown me how real and selfless love is by being a good friend, inviting me out, making me laugh, putting me on top of his priorities when not even I was putting myself first. And he had never hurt me, you know? So don’t ever say that I don’t deserve him, because he’s precisely what I deserve after all the hell you made me live.”

Ethan couldn’t say anything, and after a few moments, Eleanor turned to leave, but before she could take her belongings, he spoke.

“Do you love him?”

She faced him, bravery in her entire body even if she was still crying.

“Yes”.

Eleanor could see how his life fell apart, how she broke him with just a single word.

“But you said that you…”

“I love him but I’m not in love with him, yet.”

“You’re still in love with me, then?”—He said with a hint of hope.

“Yes, but that doesn’t change anything between us.”

“It does. Eleanor, I wanted to make things right, but I was afraid.”

“Don’t you think I wasn’t afraid too? I exposed myself in front of you a hundred times and I kept doing it even if you rejected me ninety-nine times before.”

“You have always been braver than I am.”

“Yes. That’s why I asking you to please end all this crap for good and let me be happy.”

“I … I don’t know if I can.”

Suddenly, he heard a hiss and before he could direct his eyes to the source of the noise, an imponent and categorically voice filled the air.

“Enough. ”

Ethan and Eleanor turned to the voice, startled, only to find Bryce standing in front of the sliding doors, his face frozen in a cold glare.

“Enough of your stupid game of making her feel guilty for the shit you created, Ramsey.”

“Bryce…"—Eleanor said in a tiny voice, clearly surprised of his attitude, but grateful that he had interrupted that tortuous exchange.

"This is not of your concern, Lahela.”

“If you are making her feel like shit, if you are making her cry like she is now, of course it’s my concern and I won’t let you do this to her anymore, you hear me?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, I’m asking you to behave like a decent human being and stop torturing her with your mistakes. She has paid more than enough for them, and it’s not fair you keep doing this. So, if you really, really care about her like you’re trying to show, take a step back and leave her alone.”

Ethan was speechless. He never thought he would see Bryce this serious and commanding, and that he would call him out like this. His eyes were now burning with fury and was standing a few inches ahead of Eleanor in a protective way, waiting for anything Ethan could throw at her or him and respond.

When Bryce understood that Ethan wouldn’t say another word, he turned to Eleanor.

“Come on, babe, let’s get outta here.”

“Okay.”—Her voice was barely a murmur.

"You have your purse here?”

“Yeah, it’s…”

“ Got it"—He said when he localized the black leather bag hanging from a chair in the circular table. Once he was standing beside her again, he held her hand and together walked out of the office, while the examining eyes of Ethan followed every movement of them.

The last thing he heard before the doors slid shut was a soft "It’s okay baby, I got you” after a few sobs, while through the windows he could see how Bryce was holding her in his arms, her face deep buried in his chest. Then, total silence. His hammering head full questions and guilt had deafened him.

___

A/N2: So, with this chapter, I officially declare that Bryce is Leo cusp Virgo in my AU, thank you very much.

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shadowthrone-ammanas · 4 years

Text

Guilt Chapter Two: Here to Stay

Finally the continuation of Guilt!

“Hey kiddo,” Snatcher said as Hat Kid strolled into the room. He’d invited himself abroad her ship again and had taken his old spot on the edge of the pillow pool.

“Hi,” she said with a smile as she ran up to him, seemingly unsurprised by his presence. “Does this mean you have new contracts for me?” She was way too excited by that thought. … Maybe he could come up with some later, ones that wouldn’t put her in much real danger while still being difficult and therefore apparently exciting and fun to her because she was insane.

“Not right now. I came up here to ask you something.” He’d been thinking about it for the past couple days since their talk and he may have already started preparations to find her good parents. Before he proceeded any further though, he needed to okay it with her.

“Oh.” She was disappointed, of course, why wouldn’t she be? But would she be excited by his proposition? “What is it?”

“As we’ve established, you’re an orphan. Regardless of whether or not your parents are dead or just abandoned you, you’re an orphan either way.” Hopefully it was the former because the latter was more depressing – people who abandoned their own children were a special kind of evil. “I however am a lawyer and thus have the credentials to fix that if you would like me to.”

Hat Kid’s face once again lit up with excitement; good, she deserved loving parents. “Are you saying you want to adopt me?”

Snatcher flinched. “No! I’m saying, I could find you good parents and write up the required legal documents for an adoption.”

“You’d be a good parent though.”

“Uh… kiddo, have you forgotten what I’m like? I’m a bad guy, remember? I eat people’s souls, I tried to kill you multiple times. That ringing any bells in that empty head of yours?”

“So? And you’re not all bad, very few people actually are. I think you’d be a cool dad.”

He scowled at her, crossing his arms in disapproval. “No, I wouldn’t. So, I’m not adopting you are anyone else.”

Her face fell, almost making him feel a little bad. But it was for the best. She’d be better off with almost anyone other than him as a parent. Heck, even the Mafia Boss would probably do a better than Snatcher could. So, it wasn’t happening no matter how sad she looked about it.

“Uh… okay,” she said, seemingly getting over it. “I guess I can’t force you to or anything so…” She shrugged. “I don’t need parents anyway. But thank you for the offer, I appreciate it.” She smiled at him. “But anyway, I’m going to Dead Bird Studios now. The Conductor and DJ Grooves are making another movie together, can you believe it? They agreed to let me play a small side character for a couple scenes. I was just coming in here to get a cool outfit for it.” She turned away from him to skip to her closet and pull something out. “I’ll see you later,” she called as she skipped back out of the room.

Snatcher sighed and slumped back into the corner. There went that idea. That was fine though, he didn’t care. He’d been offering to do a good deed for once on his unlife, if she wanted to reject it, that was on her. She was clearly perfectly capable of taking care of herself anyway so let her. It was none of his business.

“Earlier why was your first assumption that I was going be the one to adopt you?” he found himself asking hours later when Hat Kid returned after she’d told him way more about the directors’ movie than he really cared to know about.

“Well you’re the one who brought it up so why wouldn’t I assume it was you?” she replied, kicking her feet as they dangled over the edge of the pillow pool. She had a point. “I don’t really need parents though so it’s okay.”

He frowned at her. “What about the directors? You seem to like them a lot. One of them could adopt you.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be adopted by them though. They already got the Conductor’s grandkids to take care and I know from babysitting them that they are a lot of work. And as cute as they are, they like to bite and pull on people’s hair and it hurts. I don’t want to deal with that. Also, DJ Grooves and the Conductor are still trying to figure each other out. They love each other, I know it, they just have to sort it out and then… kiss or do whatever it is adults do when they realize they’re in love. I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

Assuming Hat Kid’s assumptions about the directors’ feelings for each other were correct they’re relationship was likely to fall apart and cause trouble for everyone around them so… it was perhaps best they didn’t adopt her. “What about the Walrus Captain?” Snatcher suggested next because he’d liked his idea of finding her a parent; it would’ve been his one good deed of the century. Which would hopefully make up for the fact that he’d tried to kill Hat Kid; an orphan with a tragic backstory who was just happy go lucky because she was a freak. “You like him, right? He’d be a good dad.”

“Yes, but uh…” she grimaced. “I still feel bad about wrecking his ship especially since he still doesn’t know it was me. And if he adopted me, I’d have to tell him and I’m not doing that.”

A chuckle bubbled up in Snatcher. “That was your fault?”

“Wait! You… didn’t know? Uh… nah, of course it wasn’t me.” She put on a forced grin and looked away, making a dismissive gesture with her hand. “I would never try to steer a ship that isn’t mine.”

The chuckle turned into full laughter because it was just too good. The world’s perfect little hero wasn’t actually a hero all the time after all. “Good job kiddo, you destroyed a man’s livelihood and almost killed a whole bunch of people in the process, some of them children so young even I wouldn’t murder them.”

She turned back to face him, scowling. “It’s not funny, don’t laugh. How was I supposed to know that driving a sea ship is so different from driving a space ship? It’s dumb that the boat didn’t have brakes because it should’ve. … But uh… I guess braking in the water is different than in space, huh? Still though, I didn’t mean to. It was an accident and I feel really, really bad about it. But… no one died so it’s not that bad, right?”

Snatcher’s chuckles died down. “Some of us did get awful wet though. Turns out that box wasn’t waterproof. And that water’s real cold kid, I hated it.” The fact that they’d crashed into an iceberg made it even worse because ice was the worst. Upon escaping the box, magicking himself back to the mainland and then his forest had been a pain.

“Oh… sorry. But… why were you still in the box? I would’ve thought you’d get out once the ship sailed.”

“I only left it at night when almost everyone else was asleep. I didn’t want to deal with having to kill a bunch of people to keep my place on the ship, it would’ve ruined the whole vacation thing.” More like he hadn’t wanted to deal with people at all. Living people weren’t his thing and he’d rather not be around them. Why he’d chosen to go on vacation in a cruise ship, he no longer knew.

“Oh well… sorry. But uh… it’s all fixed now, right? Everyone’s okay and the Captain’s got a new boat. So, it’s almost like it never even happened and we can all pretend that it didn’t.”

Snatcher could use that info to blackmail her one day. Though… he wasn’t going to, was he? Because of that whole dumb soft spot thing he had for her that was a like a disease so… “Fine,” he said with a sigh. “I guess the Walrus Captain is off the table then.”

“Yep. I guess there’s Cooking Cat, maybe. But she’s already adopted Mu and I know Mu has to be a handful. And I don’t really know Cooking Cat all that well anyway. She just kind of showed up in my kitchen on the ship a few times to experiment with my stuff. Cooking’s not really my thing so I just left her to it. And uh… that’s everyone off the table because I don’t want to be adopted by anyone I don’t know well because then what would be the point? I really do appreciate that you even thought about it though.” She gave him a sweet smile. “So don’t feel bad about not finding me a parent.”

Snatcher grunted. He didn’t feel bad about that, he didn’t even care. So, he was just going to drop the whole idea.

A few weeks went by that turned into a month and then two. Snatcher came up with more contracts to challenge her with. None of them, though difficult, were terribly dangerous and he may have kept a bit of a closer eye on her than he had before just in case. It wasn’t necessary though, she was just as skilled and nimble as ever, excelling at every challenge presented to her.

None of the rewards he made for her could ever top the shadow puppet – or apparently the bow because she wore it all the time when she wasn’t specifically using any other hat. But they weren’t meant to, he’d probably never be able to make something better. Just like before she was pleased with every reward.

Eventually he started running out of ideas. There were only so many types of physical challenges he could throw her way that didn’t involve someone or something specifically trying to kill her. Maybe he could start coming up with puzzles to challenge her intellect instead. It was certainly something to think about if she stuck around long enough. Speaking of that though…

“How long you planning on staying kiddo,” he asked as she reentered her room after changing into the outfit he’d made for her as a reward for a challenge. It was a version of the cloaks the Subconites wore. He considered infusing it with magic so that when she pulled the hood up, she’d look like a Subconite as well but had decided against it because she’d undoubtedly use it to bother him.

She froze for a second before continuing on her way back towards him, the spring suddenly out of her step. “Uh… I don’t know. Just… however long I end up staying, I guess.” she shrugged before sitting down next to him. “Thank you for the costume, it’s very cute.”

He grunted, unsatisfied with that response. “What was with that response? Why would me asking you how long you’re staying, make you sad?”

“Um… it didn’t make me sad?” Even if her tone hadn’t made it sound like a question, he probably wouldn’t have believed her. She was happy most of the time so when she wasn’t, it was very noticeable and her mood had definitely dropped at the question even if she’d brought it back up. “I just… don’t know when I’m going to go home.”

“And come to think of it, when you first got here and mentioned why it took you so long to come back, you seemed sad then too.” And Snatcher had forgotten to bring it up again until now. “Why is that?”

“Uh… reasons.”

He frowned and crossed his arms. “Something happened at home that delayed you and is the same thing making you not want to go back, right? What is it?” He was curious now.

She frowned right back at him. “And you say you wouldn’t be a good dad.”

“What does that have to do with this? Answer the question.”

“It has everything to do with it. But uh… I guess I can tell you. There’s no real reason not to because even if you wanted to you couldn’t turn me in. Basically, you remember what I told you about the school? They taught me how to fly and stuff. Well, that voyage I went on with my ship when I lost all the Time Pieces here was my final test for graduation and becoming a full pilot. I was supposed to visit three planets, collect stuff from them and go home. Which I succeeded in, this planet ended up being an extra one which I thought would be a good thing. But turns out, they know I lost the Time Pieces. They don’t care that it wasn’t my fault or that I got them all back.”

She sniffled as her eyes filled with unshed tears. “They failed me. And because of that they tried to take my ship away. I stole it back though and ran away. I got away somehow and had to hang low for a while because they’re looking for me. Coming back here was a risk that I probably shouldn’t have taken. But… the planet I was hiding out on didn’t have any intelligent life and everything alive bigger than me saw me as prey and tried to eat me, everything smaller saw me as a predator and ran away so I didn’t even have any animal companions. I was getting so lonely I felt like I was going insane. So, I had to come back. Thankfully, it seems to be okay. But that means I’m stuck here for uh… a long time. Leaving would risk their sensors picking up the movement of my ship.”

“What happens if they catch you?” Snatcher asked.

“They’ll take my ship and bring me back home to publicly execute me. They might torture me too if they think I might have any information about their enemies.”

“You’re a child though.” Even when Snatcher had been trying to kill her, he’d meant to do it painlessly. Heck, rarely when he killed someone did he mean for it to be painful. Torture was not his thing, just eating souls.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m a traitor now and all traitors must die. So, if they ever find me and catch me, I’m as good as dead because there’s no way I can fight all of them and win. And it’s not fair. I got the Time Pieces back, all of them. Why would they fail me? All I want to do is fly my ship. And it is mine no matter what they say. It’s not fair.” She sniffled again as she looked away.

Snatcher grimaced as he reached out a hand to lightly pat her head in hopes of that being a comforting gesture. “Well… good riddance, I say.” He tried to make his tone light. “They’re clearly all a bunch of corrupt peck-necks. You’re better off without them. And it is your ship, maybe not legally but in this case, who cares about the law?”

“I know but… that place was home and… I spent my whole life there on that station and I worked so hard to get back to it. But now I… I guess I’m homeless, huh? A homeless orphan, the only thing keeping me from basically being the stereotypical protagonist of a kid’s book or game is the fact that I don’t live on the streets stealing from rich people. I have my ship though which… I guess is good enough.” Her less than happy expression said she was lying about it being good enough. So…

“Uh… you can call this planet home if you want,” Snatcher offered.

Her face lit up as she turned her head to look at him. “Really?”

“Yes, really. You’re going to be stuck her for a while anyway while you wait for those assholes to stop looking for you so you might as well.”

“Hmmm… I guess I could find a place to land my ship and live out of it from there for a while. That’d be safer anyway because then they’d have to scan the planet directly in order to find it. Where though? Probably not on the island because I don’t think there’s enough space. Definitely not anywhere near the Metro. The mountains are too mountainous for sure. Maybe the desert would be good even if it would be hot so…”

“Kid, I know what you’re leading to,” Snatcher interrupted. “And fine, I’m not going to fight you over it.” Because she’d undoubtedly convince him anyway because she was just like that. “Go ahead and land your stupid ship in my forest. That’ll be my good deed for the century, letting a dumb homeless and helpless orphan live in my territory, so don’t expect me to do anything nice for you or anyone else for the next hundred years at least.”

Hat Kid giggled. “Okay, thank you.”

Snatcher frowned down the document he’d just finished revising for the fourth time, making sure it was as perfect as it could get. Was he really doing this? Really? After he told both himself and Hat Kid in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t? … Yes but… he had an excuse. She was moving into his first meaning he needed to have some level of authority over her and this was the best way to do that because it was the way she was most likely to respect.

Before he could second guess himself any further – which considering what he was doing probably wasn’t a good idea but he was full of not good ideas these days – he teleported onto Hat Kid’s ship again. “Hey kiddo,” he said.

Hat Kid, sorting through her closet jumped and turned to face him. “Hey Snatcher,” she replied, smiling.

“There’s one last thing I need you to do before you park you ship in my forest.” They’d already cleared a space and set up a basic landing platform, the only thing she was waiting was his okay to land. “I need you to fill in your full real name on this document.” He snapped his fingers, making it and a quill appear before.

She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion before looking down at the paper. As she read her expression brightened. When she looked back up at him it was with a large smile. “You’re adopting me?”

Snatcher held back a sigh. “Yes but only because if you’re moving into my forest I need to have some authority over you. This is the easiest way to do that.”

“Yeah, sure it is.” She giggled as she picked up the quill to fill in her name in the needed areas. When she was done, she handed both back to him because now it was time to sign it and make it official.

He sighed as he looked it over one last time. Hat Kid had written her name in her native language, meaning he couldn’t read and thus still didn’t know her real name. It didn’t matter though. He signed it at the bottom before he could think too much about it.

“There.” He snapped his fingers as he sent the adoption document to the same sealed, protected, and hidden room he kept the contracts with the Subconites in. “I’m legal guardian now.”

“Thank you!” She ran over and hugged him. He sighed and tolerated it. Just this once though, after this no more hugs. … He was glad she was happy though.

#My writing #Ahit #A hat in time #snatcher & hat kid #dadcher #fluff #adoption

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fanfic-scribbles · 5 years

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Lunch Buddy: Chapter Two

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter Two: Something New

Chapter Summary: Steve’s new acquaintance gets him to try something different.

Chapter Word Count: 1639

A/N: I really love vignettes and if that wasn't apparent before, it will become so in this chapter. Also author bias pokes out a little bit more; Spotify is the only streaming service I have any familiarity with so that’s what I’m using. I’ve excised most of my musical preferences in this story (it used to make up a fairly big chunk) but my frame of reference will pop up from time to time, as these things tend to do.

Steve Rogers was boring.

“Okay, no.”

He leaned his head to one side. “It’s just a coffee.”

I hadn’t meant to actually blurt that out, but fuck it; I was rolling with it now. “I just mean– you always pick that. Why not try something new?”

“I don’t want to try something new. I want that,” he said and looked at me with a raised eyebrow, like he was scolding me? Fuck that. “You said you’d buy my coffee. That’s my coffee.”

“Come on, I’m paying. This is the point where you pick something you thought about getting but didn’t want to spend your money on.”

“What happens if I don’t like it?”

“Throw it out.”

He made a face. “That’s wasteful.”

Maybe so, but he didn’t want a little change? His face said ‘no’ though so I rolled my eyes and got up. “All right; I’ll buy your boring coffee.”

“You don’t know exactly what I get,” Steve said, craning his neck as I walked away.

“You order the same fucking thing every time. They sure as hell know your order.”

Of course they knew exactly how much cream or sugar he did (mostly did not) want. So I got his drink, and then I got a little something different for myself, with a tiny empty cup on the side. I came back and plopped my stuff down before I could spill, but I handed him his drink properly. “I have to admit, I was a little relieved about the flavoring; I didn’t know you had it in you.”

He stopped just before he could take a drink. “I don’t–…wait.”

I tried to contain my laughter. It shook my body and he gave me a hard look. “Sorry, sorry!” I said and started pouring out a little of my drink into the cup. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s cold,” he said.

“No. This is cold,” I said and gave him his little sample. “Here. It’s something I ordered and it’s just a little bit– enough to taste, not enough to waste.”

“You’re a poet and you didn’t know it,” he quipped as he held the cup.

“I absolutely knew it,” I said, which got him to smile. The drink sample itself was already on very shaky ground by the way he regarded it. He looked hesitant but he sniffed it, very slowly took a sip, and…put it down with a weird look on his face. “That’s okay,” I said and leaned back to toss it before he could worry about it.

“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be,” he said and took what I assumed was a palate-cleansing sip of his own drink.

“A ringing endorsement,” I said and unwrapped my headphones. I didn’t take it as a loss– there were a lot of good things on that menu board. I’d get him. Eventually.

He didn’t show up for a few days. When he came back, he was coming in just as I was leaving and all we did was say “Hi” in passing. I felt a little…not bad, but disappointed. Oddly enough. We didn’t talk all the time, but he was pleasant company to have. He was actually perfect for my not-super-social tastes. It was nice to have someone who I could just sit quietly with.

One day, he was already there with his usual. I picked out something different but warm, and sort of closer to coffee. Might as well ease him into it.

“That’s pretty good,” he admitted and put down the empty tester cup.

“Good,” I said and made a mental note of it.

“Good?” he asked, like he was suspicious.

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Um…yeah,” I said. “What? I’m not trying to horrify you.”

He lifted one hand and shoulder, like ‘okay.’ “I’m used to people trying to shock me with things.”

“I’m not out to antagonize people. Generally,” I said. “If we’re friends, then yes, that’s completely reasonable. But I just barely met you, so you don’t have to worry. Yet.”

“Yet,” he repeated, his smile leaning to one side.

It was my turn to shrug. “You never know.”

Despite the random admirers, Steve was mostly left alone. There was a good handful of regulars and apparently most people wanted so badly to play into the ‘cool, unaffected by anything’ New York image that they’d rather stare longingly at Captain America than approach him. Some did, of course, but I was a bit surprised at how few those were.

“Do you need something?” Steve asked, and I suddenly realized I was staring in his general vicinity.

“Oh, no, sorry,” I said and rested my head on my hand, and fixed my gaze elsewhere. “I’m just staring off into space; don’t mind me.”

His smile looked a little strange, like he kind of wanted to ask why I was so weird. Or maybe I was just projecting. If only he knew that was only barely the tip of the iceberg. He didn’t get the chance to speak though– he suddenly sat a little stiffer and I barely realized why when a couple of young women approached him from behind. I put my head down to my book. How did he do that?

I thought I might ask him, as a conversation piece, but those girls kept talking…and talking…and talking. What they talked about I couldn’t say; it was mostly them fangirling but in a way that made me want to grit my teeth. Steve too, apparently, by how tight that smile was, and how hard he gripped that sketchbook. He hadn’t seemed so badly affected by that girl who had stammered at him for ten minutes, so they must not have been saying anything good. It seemed wrong to just sit back, but…

I had an idea, but I didn’t know if I should step in. I didn’t want to– this had the chance to be humiliating, if Steve didn’t play along. However, I thought he might, just out of politeness? Either way I decided, fuck it, I was going for it. I cleared my throat, but it was only enough to get Steve’s eyes to flick at me. I cleared it louder, and actually got his full attention, which (eventually) got the gaggle to shut up.

I smiled at Steve. “Uh, I found that song I was talking about, but you’ll have to listen to it now. I gotta get back to work soon.”

Steve practically slouched with relief; it was ridiculous that the impromptu fan club didn’t see it for what it was. I did get some dirty looks though, and they only intensified when Steve politely thanked them and sent them on their way. I wiped one of the earbuds and handed it to him, and randomly picked a song I thought he might like.

“It’s a little different from what you might be used to,” I murmured into his free ear. “But it’s pretty chill. A couple songs, okay?”

The look he gave me said ‘thank you’ better than words could. I sat back, navigating the minefield of my music, until I had to go. Apparently done with people, Steve packed up when I did, and we parted ways at the door.

“I try not to be…like that too much, you know?”

I looked up at Steve and could not, for the life of me, figure out how we got from “hi” and “hey” and a half hour of utter silence to that. “Uh…what?” I asked.

“Sorry,” he said and looked askance for a moment. “Those girls yesterday. I feel bad for brushing them off– they weren't that rude– I just…didn’t feel like talking much.”

“Oh. Yeah, I get that,” I said and looked back at my book.

“You get that particularly right now?” he asked, but he sounded amused.

“This is the age of multitasking. Get used to it,” I said but I put in my bookmark and shut it. I was close to having to leave anyway; starting a new chapter now would be a bad idea. “I was worried that would be overstepping. So I’m glad it worked out.”

“It wasn’t. I really appreciated it,” he said with a smile that showed it. “I actually liked the songs.”

The way he said it was…well, not intentionally insulting, so I went with it. “Why so surprised?”

“I don’t like a lot of music these days.” He shifted and then shrugged. “Maybe I’m just not used to it.”

That could have been it. Or. “Who’s been exposing you to music?”

“Tony,” he said. “Oh, right– Tony, my friend, is actually Tony S–”

“Tony Stark, yeah, I got that,” I said and he laughed. I rolled my eyes. “Smartass. See if I teach you to appreciate modern music.”

“I’ve been told I’m hopeless,” he said.

“I doubt you actually are, if your music timeline jumps from Bing Crosby to ACDC.” I scoffed at the thought. “That’s like going from Baroque to Blues.” Well. “Okay, maybe not, but hopefully you get the idea.”

Steve stared at me. “You know Bing Crosby?”

He sounded so hopeful, I couldn’t help but rope myself in. “Do you have any music streaming service? Like Spotify or something?”

“I probably could ask Pepper,” he said.

“Cool. Ask them to hook you up.” I scooted over to him. “Here; check this out.” I showed him the basics of Spotify, using Bing Crosby as an example. “The algorithm for some of the playlists can be a little…odd. Just zero in on what you like for now and I’ll figure out some playlists to make you when I have more time.” Speaking of which– I glanced at the clock, cursed, and started packing up. “I gotta go; I’ll see you later.”

“Have a nice day at work,” he said, overly cheerful. I flipped him off and he just laughed.

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers & reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #reader insert #lunch buddy

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cassiopeiassky · 6 years

Text

When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) Part 46

Hey, look what I finally got to do!! No lie, it felt like a great big hug when I finally got to sit and write. I have a paper due in 10 hours and 5 minutes that I haven’t started? What? I don’t know what you’re talking about, ha ha ha...

Plot: When you inadvertently become a witness to a murder and are suddenly a target for death, it takes a specially skilled soldier and his team to keep you and your family safe.

This will eventually be a is a reader x Bucky fic. The reader, by the way, is a civilian. No super powers, no fighting skills, and by no means perfect.

Word count: 3081

Warnings:

For the entire work: Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst. This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut. If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: Mentions of guns, violence, death,panic/anxiety, and injury If I need to add anything else, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. If you don’t want me to publish the ask, I won’t, or you can feel free to do it as a Nonnie. I will not take offense to any trigger warning requests. Your well-being is important to me and I do NOT want to trigger anyone.

***I do not own any of the lyrics/music in this story, so please don’t sue me for using them***

Tags moved to the end.

WEMtbB Masterlist

Previously on WEMtbB:

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles when he reluctantly breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours. “I know this isn’t the time or place, I just needed to feel you, to convince myself that I’m really here with you.”

You huff a quiet laugh in response as your fingers caress his scruff. “Don’t be, I was just thinking the exact same thing."

You each hold the other, taking the opportunity to breathe each other in. Like all good things, it can’t last nearly long enough.

Bucky pulls away, but remains close enough to maintain bodily contact. “I need to check in with Stark, Sweetheart. We’re getting you out of here tonight.”

You watch Bucky as he talks to Tony, and he stares at you as if you’ll disappear if he blinks.

“We don’t have a big window – we need to get her out of here tonight while the Krakkens and their men are distracted with their celebrating.” He glances down at his watch. “Yeah, yeah I can definitely work with that. Two minutes? Alright. And then…yeah, that’s a good idea. The drunker they are the better.”

Bucky gives you a ginormous smile, and you know without asking that his next words will be for you. “Ready to get rid of that ugly thing around your neck?”

“God, yes,” you breathe. It doesn’t even occur to you to ask how he’ll go about doing it – you simply trust that he has a way.

Bucky rises and circles around the bed to stand at the window, opening it when a dark shadow blocks out some of the stars. You almost laugh when you recognize it – Red Wing – so you smile and wave. A small light appears and winks at you as Bucky reaches for something, and when you blink the shadow is gone.

His smile is even wider than before as he walks back to you. “Alright,” he begins as he again sits next to you before unboxing the well-wrapped package, “Stark made this to cut through the metal. It takes about 5 minutes and it’s gonna vibrate and get really warm, but it shouldn’t hurt.”

“Okay,” you nod. Who gives a fuck if it does hurt, as long as you’ll be free?

“Alright Stark, it’s on.” Bucky no more than finishes speaking when you hear a small beep and feel the device start to pulsate slightly.

You exhale to steady yourself – you’re almost dizzy with relief, even though the tiniest bit of doubt starts to creep into your mind. Oh God, what if this doesn’t work?? “Tony’s sure this will work?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah. I, uh,” he scratches his neck a little sheepishly, “I made him test it multiple times to make sure it wouldn’t hurt you; that’s how we know it should take exactly four minutes and fifty-four seconds to cut through the metal.”

Well that’s oddly specific, not that you’re complaining. “What did you test it on? Were you able to figure out what this thing is made of?”

The look on Bucky’s face makes you regret asking the question. “We tested on a collar just like the one you’re wearing,” he begins evenly.

The implication sinks in. No. He couldn’t possibly mean…

“I took the collar that they’d put on Mikhail.”

It makes sense, but hearing it somehow still hurts.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.” The anguish in Bucky’s whispered words tells you more than he probably intended to say.

You think back to the note Mikhail had left you, the one you’d destroyed in the shower to protect you both. Hindsight is 20/20, right? “He was in on this. Mikhail knew. He was working with you.”

Bucky nods. “He didn’t know the whole time, but ever since he found out, yes, he’d been working with us.”

Emotion swells up and starts to choke you, but you don’t even know what you’re feeling anymore. Grief? Anger? Pain? Betrayal? Gratitude? Might as well write a bunch of feelings on a dartboard and start throwing darts, it’d probably be more accurate than trying to just pick one.

The room gets fuzzy, and it isn’t until you’re safely wrapped in Bucky’s arms that you realize it’s because your eyes are full of tears.

Goddamn it, Mikhail, I promised that we’d take you with us. Why the hell did you do what you did?

You want to sob, you want to scream…but you don’t have the energy for either. So you just breathe Bucky in as he does the same; he’s grieving, too, and all either of you can do at the moment is take comfort in each other.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, and now you’re not sure if he’s speaking to you or the memory of Mikhail.

“It’s not your fault, Buck. You weren’t the one holding the sword. None of this is your fault,” you whisper back, confident that you’re speaking for both you and Mikhail. He wouldn’t hold Bucky liable for his death any more than you do. As much as you’d like to go back in time and slap the stupid off of Mikhail for making such a reckless choice, it was still his choice. You don’t fucking understand it and you sure as hell don’t think you’re worth it but you’re doing your best to respect it.

It’s not easy.

A small click and the feeling of freedom captures your attention as that fucking collar falls from your neck.

“Oh, thank God,” you mumble as you sit back and put your hand to your throat. You can see that it is no longer around your neck, but you need to feel to make sure; the only thing your fingers find is the smooth chain of the necklace Bucky gave to you. It suddenly feels like you can breathe again.

“It’s gone, Sweetheart, that thing is off your neck,” Bucky confirms as he picks it up, relief evident in his eyes before a concerned look comes across his face. “Wait, say that again, Stark?” He clenches his jaw as he listens. “Fuck. Alright, we’re moving now.”

You stand when he does, and when he takes your hand you lace your fingers with his. The feeling of the cool metal against your palm soothes you; Bucky makes you feel safe. Even in the middle of this horrid nightmare, he can make you feel safe. It’s unexplainable.

“Okay Sweetheart, we need to run to the next room to grab a few things, and then we gotta go. Stark says that Nicolai is starting to cut the celebration short to organize – he wants to be ready in case the team tries to launch a retaliatory attack tonight.”

You nod as he leads you to the door, stopping only to put on your shoes, and then leads you into the hallway before glancing both ways even though you both know that Tony’s monitoring the Krakkens and their men. Bucky quickly opens the door to his room and ushers you inside, leaving the lights off as he closes the door behind you. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You nod, although you aren’t sure if he notices. The curtains are drawn, so it’s almost completely dark in here save for the small sliver of light coming from under the door. You can’t see a damn thing, but Bucky has ridiculously good vision. There’s a bit of rustling, and then nothing. The sudden unexpected weight of something across your shoulders makes you jump and it takes you a moment to realize what’s going on. “Goddamn it, Bucky. You’re in assassin mode; I can’t hear you.” You can barely hear your whispered words over your pounding heartbeat.

His soft, almost repentant chuckle in your ear warms you from the inside out as you stuff your arms into the sleeves of what you assume is a coat. “Sorry, Sweetheart. I forget that it takes your eyes longer to adjust to the dark.” He moves to stand in front of you, and this time he’s sure to let you know where he is before closing the zipper. “It’s fucking cold outside, so put these on.” Something is placed in your hands; gloves.

You smile as you feel him pull a hat on your head, much like he did on the night the two of you met. “This feels familiar,” you murmur as you slide the gloves on your hands. “Is this our thing? You putting a coat and hat on me before leading me to safety?”

His hands pause before his thumbs glide lightly over your cheeks. “I put that hat on you and I promised you wouldn’t get hurt. And then I was the one to hurt you.”

“Buck –“ There’s so much to say, and no time at all to say it. What was said in the other room not too long ago – it’s just the tip of the iceberg and you’re each going to need a lot of reassurance, but for now you both have to be content with the knowledge that you’re going home together.

“I know what you said, Sweetheart, it’s just gonna take me some time…”

Sometimes you wonder if he can read your mind.

He reaches around you to open the door. “Ready?”

With your heart in your throat, you nod. Here goes everything.

Bucky takes your hand and leads you into the hallway, past the room that’s been your prison for – how long has it been – three weeks? It feels like for-fucking-ever. You don’t spare the door a second glance.

“Buck?” You whisper, not sure if you’re supposed to talk, but you have a question that seems kind of important considering how you’re dressed.

He scans the hall and pulls you into his side before quietly asking, “You okay?”

Nodding, you point to his chest, still covered in his tactical gear. “Where’s your coat?” He’s got a hat and gloves, but that’s it. “You said it was cold.”

He nods and gently pulls you along to keep walking. “It is.”

“Bucky, we need to get you a coat.” It’s Siberia. In January. He needs a goddamn coat.

“No, Sweetheart, we don’t have time and I need you to have a coat. I’ll be fine.” You open your mouth to object, but he speaks before you can get the words out, “I’ll be okay, I promise.” He softens his tone somewhat when he glances back to see the look on your face. “Hey, if the cold could kill me, my age wouldn’t be in the triple digits.”

Well, he’s got you there.

“You, on the other hand, need as much warmth as you can get. It’s almost twenty below with clear skies, and we’ve got nothing but a motorcycle to get us to where we need to go.” He stops when you reach the end of the hall. “Stark? Which way are we going?” It’s eerily quiet for a moment before he carefully opens a door to a set of stairs. “Alright,” he focuses his intense gaze on you, “we’re going down as far as we can go. When we get to the main floor, there’s going to be a hall leading to the right. We’re taking that, and that’s gonna lead us to a side door. The tree line is about twenty-five feet away – run straight to it when I tell you to and DO NOT stop until you’re in the woods. I’ll be right behind you. It’s been too cold to snow lately, so there’s only a couple of inches on the ground; it shouldn’t be enough to give you any problems. The motorcycle is about twenty yards into the woods.”

You nod your understanding as he leads you through the door and silently closes it behind you. Bucky draws a firearm and takes your hand before he heads down the stairs, taking the steps swiftly but not so fast that you can’t keep up. You follow as quietly as you can, holding your breath momentarily when you hear a loud round of laughter echoing down one of the hallways. Bucky shoots you a reassuring look as he motions for you to keep walking.

Despite the fact that Tony is in his ear and would alert you to any danger, this is fucking terrifying. It feels like forever, but it’s probably only five minutes or so before you reach the door to the outside.

Outside.

You weren’t sure if you’d ever have the chance to be outside again.

“Ready?” Bucky whispers in your ear. After you nod, he points straight ahead out the window. “That’s where you’re going. I’ll be right behind you.”

Mouth suddenly dry, you nod as you stare at the trees. It’s not so far away, right? You can do this, your clumsiness isn’t going to rear its ugly head and make you trip. Right??

“Stark, are we clear?” He slowly opens the door, and the brisk air immediately sends a chill through your body. “What? Shit. Alright, tell me when…”

You swallow hard, almost launching into a coughing fit because your throat feels like sandpaper and the frozen breeze has stolen your breath.

“Go!” The whispered word leaves his lips and you’re running – running as fast as you can through the snow. The subzero air cuts into your lungs, making it hard to breathe, but you keep running. Somehow the trees are in front of you before you know it, and by some miracle you’ve managed not to trip.

A moment of panic seizes you when you don’t hear Bucky behind you, but you don’t stop or turn around until you’re a good ten feet into the woods. There’s sudden yelling, followed by the harsh sound of a gunshot, then two, three, four...

It’s dark, but your eyes have begun to adjust, and the snow reflects just enough light from the stars that you can make out vague outlines. You stare into the darkness. Alone.

“Bucky…” The breathless whisper barely leaves your lips before you hear the sound of crunching snow, and he’s suddenly in front of you.

“I’m here, Sweetheart, but we gotta go.” The urgency in his tone isn’t hidden by his hushed voice as he directs you where to go. “You need to stay in front of me. Walk as straight as you can, as fast as you can – don’t run, I don’t want you to trip.”

Not wasting the time to nod, you set out with him close behind. There’s more yelling, and although it doesn’t sound any closer, it sounds like there are more voices.

“Okay, the motorcycle is in the clearing ahead of you, just to your left.”

Just like he said it would be, the motorcycle appears as you step into a small clearing. Bucky quickly follows you, stepping around you to pull a bag off the seat. “Here, put this on.” He hands you a helmet before removing a length of rope from the bag. “I can’t safely drive with you sitting in front of me, so you need protection from the back. I’m gonna tie Steve’s shield to you to give you some extra cover.”

You look down in surprise to see the shield leaning against a tire. “O-okay.” You’ll have to ask him later about how he got that here.

Now that you’re not moving, you can feel the frigid winter air begin to seep into your bones. You don’t have boots, just shoes, and your jeans are doing nothing to protect you from the bitter cold. You already can’t feel your toes, and your body shakes uncontrollably.

Fuck, it’s cold!

Bucky deftly fashions a harness for the shield and slips it over your shoulders before helping you onto the back of the motorcycle. The yelling is getting louder, and you think you hear the sounds of engines firing up.

“Alright, Sweetheart,” he checks the buckle on your helmet, tightening it a bit, “I know you’re cold and that you might start losing feeling in your extremities, but I need you to hold on to me, okay? Hold on tight, and don’t let go.”

There’s no way you’ll be able to talk with how violently your teeth are chattering, so you just nod as best you can. Bucky climbs on in front of you, settling himself before grabbing your thighs to shift you forward so you’re sitting snugly against his back. You wind your arms around him as he starts the engine and pulls forward.

It’s even colder now that you’re in motion, but you’re so excited to be with Bucky and out of that goddamn hellhole that you can almost ignore the way the wind finds its way into the gaps in your clothes. The cold weight of the shield on your back does no favors for your body heat, but the fact that your and Bucky’s backs are so thoroughly protected makes it totally worth it.

Time passes as the miles do. The cold eventually loses its sharpness, and you begin to grow sleepy as you allow your mind to wander to your boys; a luxury that you have denied yourself so vehemently for the sake of survival. A soft smile crosses your face as you think of Jimmy’s sparkling blue eyes and Artie’s infectious giggle. It won’t be long now – a day or two, maybe – and you’ll have them in your arms. You feel light, and happy, and –

A sharp slap to your thigh breaks you out of your reverie. Bucky’s shouting something, but between the engine, the helmet, and the wind, you can’t understand a damn thing he’s saying. It isn’t until you nearly fall off that you realize you’ve almost completely let go of Bucky, and that his left hand gripping your leg and his right arm awkwardly clamping your arm to his torso as he steers is what’s keeping you in your seat.

Oh, shit. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, and tighten your arms around his waist. Fuck, are you in the early stages of hypothermia? How much farther do you have to go? Bucky moves his hand from your thigh to squeeze one of your hands before retaking his grip on the handle.

The bike slows, and you realize there’s a paved road ahead of you. He pauses before cautiously turning onto the road, constantly checking his mirrors as he goes. You can feel him relax the tiniest bit after another minute goes by, but then he tenses right back up as a bright light suddenly appears on your right. There are a few loud cracks before you realize that a car is the source of the light, and then a quick, sharp pain in your right thigh causes you to flinch as headlights flood behind you.

Bucky speeds up and guides the bike back into the woods, turning sharply to avoid a tree before you see his head turn and do a double take as he increases his speed once again. Following the direction of whatever had captured his attention, you see a dark spot growing on your leg. You can barely feel it, but you can see it well enough with the headlights still following you.

You’ve been shot.

Tags Round 1: @rogersxbarnesx @hellomissmabel @howdoesoneadult @ms-potts-to-you @nykitass @danimuhle @iwillbeinmynest @4theluvofall @shifutheshihtzu @iamtal @passiononfire @jade-cheshire3303 @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @lostinspace33 @gingerrootknits @callmebucky-doll @learisa @sammedrano @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @vaisabu @widowvinter @amrita31199 @bellenuit45 @agentraven007 @sarahjeaniejean @unpredictable-firecracker @omalleysgirl22 @crazyliraz @shamvictoria11 @kaaatniss @lillian-paige-weigle @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @sexyseabass1231

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #when everything's made to be broken (i just want you to know who i am)#WEMtbB #my work #part 46 #i'm so excited to get back to this #i can't even tell you #so #damn #excited

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tehfloridaman-blog · 5 years

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Canary: Or Something Screaming in the Silence of Space

Hey all! Another one of my shorts here--this one having earned an honorable mention alongside another I’m likely to post soon (if not today). This story’s more or less taking a much larger plot I had and condensing it as to show the story’s unique premise in a more contained span of pages. I’m likely to start writing on the full story soon and intend to post that here~! What I intended to focus on for this story was sound and color imagery, hence the prevalence in it. So enjoy...a story whose name I’m still undecided on. Toodles!

Wallace looked out onto the infinite horizon, colored blots of white light evenly speckled throughout the black void. Among them was a metal, iceberg shaped object. It had a rounded base and two protrusions, one rising upward and the other down, various yellow, glowing holes--windows--peppering its surface. The cockpit of the small ship was dimly lit by the consoles in front of Wallace and O’Connor, casting blue shadows onto the men’s faces and the ceiling, creeping out past them along the walls. Near the back of the room, two yellow lights filled in most of the dark gaps left by the console’s glow, though the corners of the room were still drenched in blackness.

The steady hum of the ship’s engines was pierced a moment by the clicking of buttons, being pressed in a precise manner by O’Connor as the grey and yellow-dotted station grew closer on the horizon, blotting out the stars near it. Wallace sat up, grunting as he adjusted his ballcap and gave his stubble a quick rub. O’Connor barely glanced at him until a few seconds later, resting his hands on his knees as he glanced over to Wallace.

“How long?” Wallace asked, blinking his eyes to get rid of the fuzziness of the lights. The whole cockpit was blurred for a few moments, steadily coming back into focus as O’Connor gave his answer.

“An hour. Also, three minutes.” An hour of sleep? It felt like a day’s worth, what with the relaxing drone of the ship providing a background ambiance equal only to specialized white noise generators.

“Drop it, check the station and leave?”

A pause from O’Connor, giving him a nod after a few second’s silence. The man stood up, disengaging his seatbelt with a sharp click as Wallace did the same. Their footsteps echoed down the hallway, each step being accompanied by a brief thump as they trudged along. Thump, thump, thump all along the hallway.

“It’s been unresponsive for a week now. Corporate wants to know what happened.”

“Stations don’t just go radio silent like that. It’d have an error message if the radio-”

“Suddenly died.” O’Connor said with him as they stood by the umbilical, the few meter-long space coated in an ominous red glow. O’Connor lifted the dirtied, clear plastic cover of the umbilical’s engagement system, some more click, clicking coming from the panel. Not a minute later, the lights switched to green, the blast door opening as the white and gray corridor lit up in front of them, barely illuminated by the blue lights along its top.

Thump, thump—down the corridor. The two men lacked any sort of caution in their strides as they casually walked down the length of the umbilical, Wallace pressing his ID against the scanner at the corridor’s end; the scratched, white door deeting in confirmation before sliding open with a woosh.

Cold air immediately poured through even before the door had fully slid open, Wallace zipping up his jacket most of the way as he stepped into the lobby beyond. O’Connor and Wallace flicked on their flashlights, the click of the buttons echoing throughout the silent lobby. The two pillars of light penetrated the area like swords, hacking away at the darkness as the copious amounts of discarded luggage were revealed. The area was built much like a typical airport, with benches and luggage areas and various stores—all closed with their bars down.

“Smell that in the air?” Wallace pointed his flashlight upward, hitting the vents in the ceiling. The air supply ran throughout the station, he internally prayed that this horrid, burnt smell didn’t circulate into the other areas.

O’Connor snorted, shinning his light over to a defaced billboard, darkened pink words covering its surface. The way the spray-paint had dried made each letter seem like a melting candle. “Reminds me of the bathrooms back in high school. All those anti-drug lectures were for nothing.”

Wallace chuckled, nodding in agreement as he took a step over to examine the words with O’Connor, the duo’s lights fully illuminating the message:

it came from canary

“Canary’s a kind of bird, isn’t it?” Wallace asked, reaching over to trace his hand along the strange writing. Made about a week ago, certainly a few days before they arrived.

“It’s the nickname for the mining planet.”

“The cold one, right? Same system as this station.” A pause from Wallace, rubbing his chin as he pondered the odd name of the planet before speaking. “Why Canary?”

“It’s an old legend. Old-old. Back on Earth, y’see, miners used canaries in cages to see if noxious gases were building up in the mines. If the bird died, they knew to leave before they suffered the same fate.”

“Bit of a…eerie name, don’tcha think?”

“Mhmmm…supposedly they test stuff over there, too.”

“No kidding, what kinda-” A thump nearby turned both men’s attention to the stairs just a few meters away, faint lights spilling out from the top of the flight to partially illuminate the figure standing at the stair’s bottom. Only its eyes were fully able to be seen, wild bloodshot eyes. It was holding something, an item that was long and cylindrical in shape. “-hello?”

O’Connor blinked, turning his flashlight the entity’s way to expose the true nature of the object. A revolver. The rescue worker put one hand in front of him in surrender, opening his mouth to speak. “We don’t-”

Wallace’s ears rang as the bright orange projectile flew through the air and hit O’Connor’s face with a wet, distant smack. The deafeningly loud crack of the gun’s firing came with a brief illumination of the man’s face—a wild, crazed look on it. As Wallace slid down against the billboard, clutching his ear, and O’Connor fell to the ground with a sudden thud; the man ran off, taking back up the stairs after giving the ceiling the swiftest of looks.

Wallace remained crouched there, the side of his face and shoulder having a spatter of his friend’s blood on it. Steadily he slid down the graffitied wall like a slug until he reached the bottom, huddled against it as though it was the only thing providing heat on Canary’s cold surface. The irony of this wasn’t lost on him. Summoning the courage to look at the corpse, Wallace found a neatly shaped, dark red hole in the middle of his forehead, blood trailing down it on a line as it went along O’Connor’s nose—curiously also bleeding with two thicker globs of blood leaking from his nostrils.

Then the corpse’s head fell forward, and Wallace saw the back of his skull. What was left of it. On the wall behind him--some skin, bits of bone, brain, lots of blood. Somehow the exit wound was ten times as bad as the entrance.

Eventually, Wallace summoned the strength to move on—giving his friend’s deceased form a momentary glance before stumbling forward, placing one hand on the wall to steady himself before rounding the corner, finding to his surprise that the dimly lit stairs were dotted every so often by a drip or two of blood.

Temporarily having to will himself up the stairs, Wallace continued further still—up the staircase and into the dark corridor, the lights having long gone out. He could hardly see the environment around him, angled walls with a crate or two placed for added scenery, he supposed.

In that dark, dark corridor he heard a thump above him.

In the vents.

Behind him.

Then another, closer. Yet one more—closer still. Something was walking in the vents toward him, so Wallace ran. He jogged down the corridor, glancing behind himself to confirm that, yes, there wasn’t anyone there, but the noises continued. The thing in the vents was running now, the thump-thump-thump-thump giving away its location as a ceiling panel fell from above, hitting the floor with a drawn-out clack-clack clatter. Light! Light ahead, through a door frame that had to be a maintenance closet of some kind! A pure, golden glow keeping the entire room open for view, Wallace did not hesitate when running in and slamming his hand down on the door’s button, the sound inaudible over his own panting, the locks clicking in with a second push, this one more tiresome than the first.

The thumping was gone, Wallace collapsing against the nearby tool shed. After spending a few minutes catching his own breath, the man took a glance over at the nearby desk and chair where a corpse casually sat, a gun in its hands.

The brown haired, white-shirted person from the stairwell was dead. Blood inching steadily from his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Staining the top of his shirt, he had died only recently. Surely whatever had been in the vents had done it. Yes, that was the only explanation. Noticing the recording device on the desk by the body, Allen shakily reached over and pressed the button with a tiny click.

“My name is Toby. Toby…err…I don’t remember that part. My last name. That’s not important. I’ll cut to the chase, yeah. Three or four days ago this shuttle arrived from Canary. Some dude was on it, guy named Crowley. Said he was a guy who worked security detail at one of the labs there—told us that what was in the package had…caused folks to go crazy. Said a…a monster was…”

A pause, the speaker taking a moment to sniffle, seemingly to compose themselves.

“Some monster had followed the crate, that we couldn’t open it or else it’d kill us all. Folks had reservations, obviously. Why should we believe some guy from an, uh, a planet that’s…it didn’t sound right, is what I’m trying to say. Obviously, some people said that it could’ve been from that research facility—bioweapons and all. A monster would make sense from there, but maybe they uncovered something? Like...under the ground?”

Another pause followed by the ruffling of papers, Allen took note of the semi-nonsensical writings next to the corpse, a few dots of dried dark red blood on them.

“So, we opened it! By we I mean the folks who worked down in cargo. Whatever they uncovered they…they all went mad. Crowley disappeared afterward, then the people who opened it started dying. Like something had hunted them down, killed them. Must’ve come from the vents, they said, must’ve come from the vents and left no trace. What else could’ve done it? Folks said they saw things, heard things. Said it was the monster.”

A pause followed by the person standing up and the click of the revolver’s hammer.

“Heard something. Might’ve just been the station, it’s falling apart as I speak. Gonna try to find a way outta here in the terminal, I think it’s hunting me.”

One more brief entrance into the realm of silence.

“I can hear something screaming in the silence of space.”

Then it ended. Allen looked beyond the man and his desk, spotting a section of the floor that had been moved, exposing a maintenance tunnel below it. Where this led was presently unknown…perhaps that’s how the…whatever had been hunting Allen had snuck in and killed this man before retreating to…

Allen heard a thump in the vent just behind his head.

He wasn’t sure how he ended up in the maintenance tunnel so quickly, but before he knew it Allen was crawling on his hands and knees inside the darkened veins of the ship, certain that he had to be safe.

Then the pipes around him began to clatter, the sound vibrating throughout the space as whatever was causing the noise began to frantically chase him. It followed him, it followed him, it followed him. Allen was sent scrambling like a roach, clawing his way forward through the pitch-black environment while the clink-clack-clink-clack of the pipes only grew closer and closer and closer and-

They stopped. He was on the ground; the vent having popped out beneath him. He wasted no time in sprinting like a gazelle through the doorway in front of him, punching the button to slam the doors in front of him shut with a force that seemed to have shattered his bones.

When he turned around, he was in a completely smooth, rectangular corridor. White walls surrounded him—the entire space not more than a few feet in length and width. Just enough for him to be able to walk forward comfortably. The entire area was awash with a pinkish red light, originating from nowhere but filling the whole space. As Allen walked forward, in a daze, the environment twisted around him. Bending, becoming flexible like rubber all while he stayed in the same position. Once it evened out, the walls were covered in the same graffiti from before: it came from canary repeated over and over, on top of each other to leave only fleeting spots of space where the white wall could be seen.

Allen continued forward to the door that looked ever closer but always oh so far away. After walking for what seemed to be ages, Allen was finally able to lay his palm upon the button of the door and open it with the same click as always. The door opened with a woosh, air spilling into the corridor as Allen stepped into the cargo bay beyond, shelf upon shelf of items were in front of him.

Sitting on a box in front of him was O’Connor, upright with his hands on his knees. His eyes were glazed over, the bullet hole in his forehead leaking blood which was frozen as it flowed down the bridge of his nose, forever stuck in time. The same two globs from his nostrils, hanging above his lips and sticking to his mustache.

“Is this really what you want, Allen?” It asked in a distorted voice, giving him an almost bored look. “You’re a canary. You’ve gone down into the mines and the gas is getting to you.” The corpse looked behind itself, an area in the middle of the room seemingly dedicated to an odd, rectangular white-topped, blue-bottomed box with other orange and green markings along its surface that had a singular beam of light shining down on it like an altar. “It came from canary.”

Allen limped over, putting both hands on the half-opened box as he read the black, printed words on it in the yellow, revealing light. A few drops of red blood stained the top of the crate. It was getting hard to see. Hard to breathe.

UNITED EARTH MILITARY RESEARCH

BIOWEAPONS DIVISION

HALLUCINOGENIC #HX-20

The canary fell over, croaked his last breath and died on the spot.

The sound fluttered into the air and was snatched away by the void.

#writing #my writing #literature #sci-fi #science fiction #horror #sci-fi horror #The Mines

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mystrothedefender · 7 years

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Trans-joker part 4!

I’m totes coming up with a plot lol.

Part one is here! Part two is here! Part three is here!

The word curious could be applied in both popular senses to the Joker, he was both a curious man and a curious man.

He couldn’t stop himself thinking now, having been back home for over 20 hours with his stockpile of T hidden away now rather than just stashed in his sock draw.

Who else was trans?

Himself, Batman, Riddler, Two-face.

He would never have expected so many.

Maybe there was something in the water around here?

Joker smirked to himself; it was kind of nice knowing he wasn’t the only one.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. He rolled his eyes, why did people keep bugging him.

“What do you boys want now? I told you you don’t need to ask me to go and buy food.”

The door opened, and Harley stepped through.

Joker frowned, his fists clenching slightly at the sight of her. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled at him, “Mr J I live here.”

“No you don’t I threw you out.” He looked away from his desk fully and turned his chair to look at her.

“Oh you’ still mad about that?” she waved her hand dismissively.

He looked her up and down, her body language, her tone of voice. There was something familiar about it. His eyes narrowed a little. “What do you want Harley?”

She seemed to tighten up a little. The last time they’d talked it hadn’t ended all that well.

“Well?” Joker urged.

She sighed softly, “Oh I know I shouldn’t have tried to hide it from you, Puddin’.”

Joker huffed, “Of course not, you can’t pull the wool over my eyes, Harls. Tell me what you want,” he gave a wide, fake smile, “I might be nice enough to give it to you.”

Harley shrugged, averting her eyes a little, “Well I uh, a buddy of mine,” she shifted on her feet a little, giving a soft shrug, “Kinda heard you had some kind’a drug from Arkham, and uh, well… he’s kind’a asked me to get it from ya’.”

Joker pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head minutely before running his fingers through his hair, leaning back in his chair, “Was it Ed? Tell him to fuck off, I don’t have any T.”

“No it wasn’t Ed,” she said with a shake of her head, “I’ve been asked to keep my patron’s identity a secret.” She walked further into the room, “And what do you mean you don’t have any? Everyone knows you took a bunch of stuff from Arkham.”

Joker shook his head, feigning a sad innocence. “Batman took it all. Ed stole it from me, then Batman took it from him.”

Harley frowned softly, “Wait, how do you know Batman took it. It could still be at Ed’s place!”

Joker’s face fell a little, “’You really think that I didn’t go down there and try to get it back?” he let out a scoffed laugh, “I was trying to get it back and Batman was already there.”

“How did you get away?”

Joker smirked softly, “I appealed to his better nature.”

Harley let out a suggestive hum, “Oh really? Something finally happen between you two?”

He chuckled softly, “Don’t be so crass, nothing like that happened. He’d never…” he let his voice trail off and his expression change back to an unhappy one, “What does it matter to you anyway. I don’t have any T, get lost,” he pointed to the door.

She sighed softly “Ok, ok… Pengi is sure gunna be disappointed though.”

Joker turned back to the desk, “Good luck dealing with that… Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Penguin was after his T was he…?

Either Penguin himself was trans or he had an underground buyer that was, either was equally likely.

Of course he probably had doctors and such that could get it for him, but free was free.

Most likely the T was for someone else, he couldn’t see Penguin putting something unchecked into his body, let alone something had had Joker’s fingerprints on it.

Maybe Riddler and Two-face had enlisted Penguins help to retrieve what Joker had.

Joker wouldn’t put it past Edward to hide camera all over the apartment, if that was the case then they’d know Joker had the T and they wouldn’t give up the case that easily.

If Penguin’s men came to see him in the next week or so then it meant it wasn’t Riddler and Two-face.

If they came tomorrow it meant it was.

Tomorrow came and passed.

Joker felt annoyingly on edge, waiting to be attacked, waiting, waiting…

It had been almost a week.

There was no way Penguin would just drop it.

Months’ worth of T, it was worth a lot.

It had entered Joker’s mind to volunteer them, but he’d quickly dismissed it. The risk was worth it. Having that much T stockpiled, the sense of security, as much as Joker usually loved chaos he loved the knowledge that his drugs were right there.

They were his and Penguin would have to kill him to get to them.

He ran a hand through his hair, a small way of comforting himself as he imagined the scenario.

He didn’t want to deal with this, he had bigger fish to fry. He wanted things back to normal, it seemed recently everything he did related back to his being trans, honestly it was something he didn’t like having at the front of his mind. Made him feel bad.

He should have just dealt with the cramps. At least they only lasted a few days and not weeks like this mess had.

Although it was nice knowing that Batman, Riddler, and Two-face were trans also. It was a strange sort of comfort but comfort none the less.

It made him feel closer to Batman, that was nice, Batman probably thought the same thing.

He could imagine it now, Batman, sitting on his bat-chair infront of his bat-tv, wishing that Joker would set up one of his infamous traps, that they could fight again, perhaps share a few longing looks whilst beating the shit out of each other.

He bit his lip and let out a soft breath.

He would kill for that right now.

How long would it be until Penguin came after him?

The sooner Penguin came for him, the sooner Joker beat him, the sooner he could get back to regular life.

“Coward…” Joker muttered to himself, hoping the verbalisation might somehow tempt the man to him.

After a moment stood up, letting his chair fall to the floor behind him.

Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t things go back to normal? He didn’t want more people to find out. He didn’t want to have to fight over this.

He picked up the chair and threw it halfway across the room, it landed with an unsatisfying thud. He wished it had smashed. He wanted to break something. He needed to get rid of the tension hanging over his head.

He marched into the bedroom and angrily threw on a shirt and a pair of trousers, slipping on his heels and stomping out of the hideout and into the street. He couldn’t handle it. He needed this over.

If Penguin wasn’t going to come to him then he would go to Penguin.

“You can’t come in,” the guard of the iceberg lounge said sternly, “Not after last time.”

Joker painted on his friendliest of smiles, “Oh come on, Philip was it? You gotta let me in, I’m a friend of Oz’s.”

“Yeah, not according to him,” the guard snarled, “And it’s not Phillip, you and your girlfriend killed Phillip the last time you showed up.”

Joker pulled a face, “Oh, oopsy? No hard feelings?” he reached out to pat the guards arm.

The guard pulled away, “Get out of here.”

Joker frowned and nodded a little, “Ok… Kiddo, look. Unless you wanna end up like Phillip you’ll let me in. Don’t you know who I am? I’m the Joker! The clown price of crime! I own this town buddy.”

The guard stood still, blocking his path, crossing his arms.

Joker’s eyebrows raised, “Well alright, you asked for it I guess!” He reached into his pocket.

Where was his….

Oh shit.

He’d left his gun at home.

“Of all the blasted things…” he mumbled to himself. “Alright, alright, I’ll go, for now. But mark my words, when I come back, and I will come back, you’ll be the first one I’ll kill.”

The door behind them opened.

Another man stuck his head out, dressed in a uniform similar to the guard’s. He looked down at Joker with dead eyes. “Joker?”

“The very same,” Joker smirked.

“Penguin wants to talk with you. Come with me.”

Joker’s smile widened, he gave the guard a smug look and slowly pushed his way passed. “Toodle-oo jackass. I’ll see you later.”

As the guard led Joker up the stairs he could feel his mind racing, fast enough that it might give him a headache.

He was sure he was walking into a trap. He didn’t have his gun. How had he forgotten his gun?

He patted down his pockets once more to check.

Oh, it seemed he had a knife stashed in one of his jacket pockets.

That might come in handy, though he was sure he’d do fine without it.

The guard opened the door to Penguin’s office and let him through.

“Pengi, hi, how are you ol’ pal,” Joker said with a soft chuckle as he walked through the large white room, further into what he was sure was a trap.

Penguin looked up at him from behind his desk. “Joker. I’ve been expecting you. I suppose Harley told you she was working for me?”

Joker nodded, smiling, “You should know by now you can’t trust her with secrets.”

Penguin huffed, nodding in reluctant agreement. “Yeah… Well, now you’re here, I wanted to talk to y’. I’ve procured some of the security tapes from around Edward’s apartment and I’ve got footage of Batman that proves you weren’t lying to Harley.”

Joker held back a grin, choosing instead a hard nod. “I didn’t think you’d believe me either way… Why did you want it anyway?”

Penguin huffed, “I won’t ask why you wanted it if you don’t ask me. But like I said, I’ got footage now that proves the bat’s got it. Now, uh,” he dented his fingers, “I wanted to ask you if you’d be interested in getting the stuff back from him.”

Joker let himself smile now, “Oh, of course.” He put his hands on the desk and leant over it slightly, “What’s your plan?”

Joker found himself laughing for the majority of that evening. This was so hilarious. He burst out laughing on the walk home and never stopped. Eating that night had been interesting.

Thank god Batman had helped him home that night. Now his T was safe for good and he was going to fight Batman again. The best thing was that Penguin didn’t even suspect him of still having it. There was no way he’d go into such much detail with his plan if it was a ruse to put Joker off guard.

Batman wouldn’t even know why they were coming after him.

This was going to be perfect!

There was no way he’d be able to sleep tonight.

#batman #joker #tlbm #batjokes #lego batman #lego joker #writing

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