#I wish they’d at least release the one they’d already recorded even if the reason they never went ahead with it is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onechicago-upsteadrhekker · 3 years

Text

the trouble with wanting (is i want you) - part two

Friends!!!!! I’m here! I’m back!

I can’t apologize enough for the long wait! It certainly wasn’t intentional, but alas that is the life of a college student and unfortunately school comes before upstead as much as I wish it didn’t!

I hope part two gives you all the feels and makes up for the long absence, however, I do have something to share with you that may make you want to kill.

Part two turned into part three...

So, SURPRISE! This isn’t a two-shot; it will definitely be a three part story and I am happy to say that part three is written (mostly, I have to tweak a few things) so that will be up sometime next week depending on my school schedule.

Thank you again for your patience and I sincerely hope that you enjoy this chapter that contains no real plot, a lot of fluff and mutual pining!

As always, let me know what you think in the comments!

Tagging: @imjustwritingg, @anniesardors, @thetwit, @angelsjedi, @chichichicken, @carissalizz, @maya-asturias

Let me know if you want to be added to this list for part three!

Read on AO3

The next few days are filled with mandatory walking sessions, pain meds every four to six hours and Jay’s smiling face. He was the only reason why she wasn’t absolutely losing it because while she despised hospital stays in general, hospital stays in another city filled with people she didn’t know were downright insufferable.

But he’d made it go from something akin to glorified torture to slightly tolerable.

The bullet wound was starting to heal and the incision from where they’d had to remove her spleen was looking great according to the nurses and everything seemed to be on the right track healing wise, but anything regarding this thing that she and Jay had going on? She had no idea.

One would think getting shot in a different city, causing one partner to literally drop everything and come rushing to the other partner’s side would end in heartfelt confessions and relationships born at hospital bedsides.

But that’s not what happened, and Hailey was seriously starting to wonder if she and Jay were ever going to be on the same page. Or at least read the page aloud because she was fairly certain he felt the same way about her that she felt about him.

Because just partners don’t fly eight-hundred miles to be by your side even if you are hurt.

Right?

And it didn’t help that he was there with her almost twenty-four seven, giving her no time alone to process what he was telling her without words because before this, it had just been subtle glances and warm smiles, teasing words and affectionate eyes.

But this. Flying eight-hundred miles. It was tangible and real, and she couldn’t quite believe it was really actually happening, but then he was there, bringing her her favorite foods from restaurants she’d found during her time in New York and barely going back to her hotel room for sleep, staying by her side to keep her company and catch her up on five weeks’ worth of Intelligence news.

He was there for every lap around the hospital floor and every dressing change. He was there to shoo out the nurses when they were starting to get on her nerves and he was there, rubbing her hand softly when the pain of her bruised ribs made it hard to breathe.

And then there was the way she was constantly being referred to as ‘Jay’s wife’ instead of her own name much like when she was back in grade school and her teachers would call her ‘Sam’s little sister’.

He’d made quite the impression on the nurses and for some reason neither she nor Jay had set the record straight on the actual status of their relationship since that first day when he was mistaken as her husband.

(It was probably the same reason that they hadn’t talked about what Jay flying to New York meant. And to be honest, Hailey was sort of hoping that Jay would set the record straight on their relationship, if only to let her know where they stood.)

And she definitely wasn’t going to acknowledge the dangerous little thrill she got from hearing herself referenced that way or think about what it would be like for real. Nope, not a chance or she might never come back down to reality after having narcotic-induced dreams of three little words, ‘I do’s’, freckled little faces and laughing green eyes.

But then it’s so close, she can almost taste it and it should scare her, but it doesn’t.

Because she can feel it in the way he grins at her and in the way he tells her goodnight at the end of a long day of keeping her company. It’s in the way his arm brushes hers when he’s helping her sit or stand and it’s in the way his eyes hold hers for far longer than he should; his green eyes swimming with hints of the things she dreams.

But until she hears it. Until one of them gathers the courage to actually say the words and put a name to what they already know and feel, then she’s going to wait and guard those dreams carefully because she knows deep in her heart that when they return to Chicago, it will have either worked out or it won’t at all.

She’s not sure exactly when the pieces will fall into place or if they’ll even fit together but she knows they are at the point of no return. And honestly, that scares her the most because no matter what happens, it will always be Jay for her.

Because he was her home, and he had a place in her heart no one else could ever have and that terrified her because she knows that she’ll never get over him if for some reason it doesn’t work out between them.

She tries not to think like that because she’s pretty sure what she’s seen in his eyes is something that looks a lot like love, but it’s hard to be totally optimistic when it seems like the universe is always keeping them not necessarily apart, but not really together. At least not in the way she’s pretty sure both of them want.

So, she sits in her hospital bed, watching him laugh at her attempts to renegotiate her discharge date with the nurses and listens to him chatter about what Will’s been up to and how much he hated being tossed between Kevin, Kim, Adam and Vanessa while she’d been gone even if he liked working with each of them.

They’d been flying crooked he told her and that her not being there threw them all off so he’d be happy when he could take her back home and so would everyone else. In fact, they’d told her as much when Kim had facetimed Jay the day after he’d arrived in New York to get proof of life and see for themselves that she was truly going to be okay.

It was sweet and nice, and it made her realize how much she really did miss her team turned family even if she already felt like she was home just because Jay was beside her.

He was beside her and he was there with her and every time he looked at her over the beeping of the heart monitor she was hooked up to, everything else faded from view. The facetime calls with their friends, the friendly nurses checking up on her every few hours, the general hustle and bustle of hospital life happening outside her room.

It was just them and she’d be lying if she wasn’t looking forward to her discharge date for reasons other than just being out of the hospital because she knew then, she and Jay would truly be alone stuck in a hotel room in a city that neither one of them knew.

And that, she knew, would be the true test.

On the morning of the third day she’d been in the hospital, Hailey was given the news that she’d be released by that afternoon. If she was physically capable, she’d be jumping for joy but because of the dozen stitches in her side, she’d had to settle for celebrating internally.

Moving was still slow-going and she still felt overly tired far too early in the day, but she was confident that a night in her own bed (or at least the bed she’d been sleeping in for the past several weeks) would do her a world of good.

And she wasn’t going to think about how Jay being potentially next to her would probably make her sleep better than she’d ever had.

She didn’t know exactly where Jay had been disappearing to when he’d left the hospital at night, but she’d given him the key to her hotel room and he always came back looking well-rested so she felt safe assuming he was sleeping in the same queen bed she’d been occupying for the past five weeks.

Hailey wasn’t quite sure what would happen tonight when it was time for him to go to bed, but she wondered if this was the day they were going to finally get it right, nestled under the bed covers, whispering dreams and promises, her side aching but her heart so full.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Her gaze flicked up to Jay who had entered the room and was walking towards her, his hands already reaching out to help her pull on her coat. Hailey looked up at him as he focused his gaze on putting her left arm carefully through the sleeve of her jacket.

She wasn’t sure if a person could have reversed déjà vu, but the action brought her right back to another hospital room in a different city when she was still reeling from the panic she’d felt surrounding Jay’s terrifying brush with death.

When she’d helped him pull his familiar, worn black jacket over his sling right before she almost told him she loved him.

And now here they were again, except this time it was him helping her and this time she knew they weren’t going home without having the conversation they should have had then.

“Thanks,” She murmured softly, trying to ignore the way her heart raced when he briefly squeezed her hand.

Hailey gingerly sat down on the side of the bed, already worn out and sore from the morning’s activities of getting ready to leave.

“I called a taxi. It should be here any minute,” He grabbed her duffle and sat it beside her, “You sign the discharge papers?”

“Yes, thank God,” She muttered accepting the pair of Sperry’s Jay was handing her.

He chuckled softly, “You are so impatient.”

She shot him a look, “I’m sorry. And who was the one practically begging me to spring him from the hospital the minute he was awake and talking?”

He had the wisdom to look sheepish, but he couldn’t hide the wide smile threatening to take over. Clearly, they were both happy to be leaving the hospital room behind.

As Jay busied himself with packing the last few items into the duffle he’d brought Hailey the day he’d arrived in New York, he can’t help but watch her. She’s moving slowly, but she seems pretty alert for someone who got shot and had relatively serious surgery only four days ago.

Her eyes are bright if not tired and her hair is haphazardly thrown up in her signature high pony, but Jay still thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world and he almost tells her just that.

His mouth is open, forming the words when she turns to him after sliding on her shoes, catching his gaze with eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

And he thinks this is why he can never tell her how he feels. She’s always taking the words away with a flash of blue and a dash of blonde because he wants his future to look like her so badly, it terrifies him. And even when he does finally find the words, he knows he will never be able to tell her with words just how much she means to him.

His lips quirk and he shakes his head, turning his attention back to the duffle to zip it up before nodding towards the open door of her hospital room, “No reason. You ready to go?”

For a second, he thinks she’s going to push, and they are going to have the conversation they need to have right here and now, but then she doesn’t and some part of him feels disappointed that they are making themselves wait once again.

He’s not even entirely sure why because nothing is holding them back now. Not really. They are finally both in the same city with no kidnappings, rigged elections or anything else threatening to tear them apart and yet, they are still walking that very fine line of partners and best friends to something openly affectionate and loving and real.

It’s almost too perfect because while he rushed here in a state of panic, not knowing what he would find, Hailey, for the most part was okay and now they were stuck here with basically nothing to do but wait till she could fly without risk of infection or complications from surgery.

He’s not sure if he should be worried, waiting for the other shoe to drop or thrilled that the universe seems to be giving them a hint that it was finally time to take that leap of faith from partners and best friends to something more.

“Hailey, you are clearly in pain.”

After the short taxi ride from the hospital, they were finally in the hotel room and now firmly engaged in a battle of wills.

Hailey was currently giving him a glare that reminded him of the way she would silently warn him from across the bullpen to not do something he might regret or when they were down to the last couple of fries during a long stakeout and he was reaching for them.

Generally, he didn’t win the fights when she wore that look but today, he was determined to stand his ground.

“Jay,” It was practically whined and while he understood her reluctance to take the pain meds she’d been prescribed, he couldn’t stand watching her in pain.

In the few times that Hailey’s been injured during their partnership, it hadn’t been too serious, and she usually had a good attitude about doing what she needed to do to recover. So, seeing her like this, pale and tired and just not her normal, spunky self, broke his heart and he wanted to do everything in his power to fix it.

Starting with the meds she’s determined not to take.

He was happy to at least see the trait that was so undeniably Hailey in her eyes because otherwise, she looked like a lifeless shell of the badass detective he knows she is. The oversized pillows she was propped against makes her seem so tiny and she almost blended in with the sheets she was so white.

If he was being honest, she was starting to look worse than she did when she was in the hospital and that definitely concerned him enough to possibly make him take her right back there or at least call Will for his opinion.

Sighing, he uncrosses his arms to move from where he’s been standing a few feet away from the end of the bed holding the prescription bag in a clenched fist.

Her eyes track his movements as he comes to gingerly sit down at the edge of the bed, leaning over on his forearm to look at her closely, “Hailey,” He shakes his head, “Please just take them. At least so you can get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

For a second, he thinks that she’s going to keep fighting him, but then he sees the weak mask she’d had in place slip, the dull look of pain and exhaustion becoming clearly present in her eyes.

“Okay, fine,” She sighs out wearily, and he’s a little surprised that she conceded that quickly even if he knew he’d already won, but then she cocks her head slightly, “What do I get in return?”

Yeah, he didn’t think he’d won that easily.

Jay pushes the flirty and slightly suggestive response that instantly pops into his head to the back of his mind. There would be plenty of time for that later, or at least he desperately hopes so because he knows that now is not the time to start anything of that nature.

When he tells Hailey what she deserves to hear, he wants her feeling halfway decent and looking healthier than she does right now.

If they were in Chicago, he would bribe her with Bartoli’s, but they weren’t. They are in New York and she’s already made it quite clear that the pizza here is a tragedy, so he doesn’t think she’d want that particular food even if he could find a copy-cat deep-dish place.

So, he goes for the next best thing, “What about some Greek? It probably won’t be anything like Greek Islands, but I’m sure I can find a decent place. I could grab you some Pastichio. What do you say?”

The way her eyebrows furrow and her bottom lip sticks out adorably makes him want to kiss the pout away, but he doesn’t.

She shakes her head, “I don’t want Greek.”

Jay bites his lip briefly and refrains from making a comment on the childish tone of her voice as he regards her carefully for a quiet second.

He would never admit it, but he knows he’s a much worse patient when their positions are reversed so he’s more than willing to put up with her stubbornness because he knows it’s just a way to cope with the pain.

And besides, he loves her. He would do whatever he could to make her feel better.

“I’ll get you whatever you want as long as you take your medicine, so why don’t you tell me what it is you’d like to have,” He pushes himself up off his forearm to sit upright, but he still holds her gaze.

She sighs carefully, picking at the covers before answering him, “A Snickers bar.”

Jay raises his brows.

In the years he has known her, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her eat a candy bar. She could down a piece of chocolate cake at an event, or the random chip bag she’d found during a stakeout, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her eat the overly processed candy bar before.

“You like Snickers bars?” He can’t help the slightly disgusted tone of his words.

Hailey’s expression instantly morphs into a defensive one, “A girl can have guilty pleasures, and this just so happens to be mine. Now, you said you’ll get me anything if I take my medicine, so you’re lucky it’s not something like a new gun. Or a car.”

Jay rolls his eyes and Hailey desperately wants to swat him but she’s already in a significant amount of pain so she doesn’t think that would be the wisest decision.

“Relax, I will get you your Snickers bar. I promised, didn’t I?” He smirks a little as he moves off the bed to grab his coat that’s thrown over the back of the desk chair, “I just can’t believe I didn’t know you liked candy bars.”

Shrugging a little, she tries not to wince at the pain that small movement caused her, “I don’t indulge in them much; only when I’m not feeling good or if there’s literally nothing else to eat.”

After gathering up his wallet and phone, Jay stops in the middle of the room to regard her for another moment. He shakes his head, “What else don’t I know about you, Hailey Upton?”

She gives him a little smirk of her own, “Lots of things, I’m sure. I was once told I was aloof about my personal life.”

“And just when I thought I was getting to know the person under that tough exterior,” He feels the smile creep over his face, and he doesn’t care that he probably looks like a man hopelessly in love because he is.

He watches as her own expression softens and for just a moment, their eyes meet. A thousand words of unspoken love pass between them and he can see his entire universe in those captivating, blue orbs just as she can see a million promises in his.

Hailey shifts and winces at the sharp pain it causes her, cursing herself for ruining the moment. Those pain pills she’d tried refusing were looking pretty good right about now as the throbbing intensified around her still tender ribs.

Jay noticed her discomfort. He always does, and she could see the concern so clearly on his face it made her heart swell in love. He’s the most caring man she’s ever met, and it’s one of the things she loves most about him.

“As soon as I get back, you’re taking your meds,” Jay frowns, rubbing his thumb briefly along his hairline before dropping his arm, “I’d give them to you now, but I’m not sure I should leave you alone with narcotics in your system just in case. And besides, you need to take the antibiotics with food, so I’ll pick up something while I’m out.”

She just nods, picking up the remote for the television, “Sounds good. I’ll be here watching whatever trash I can find on TV, so hurry back.”

Jay gives her one last smile that warms her from head to toe before he opens the door and walks out.

When Jay walks through the hotel door about an hour later, he has the overwhelming urge to call out a ‘Honey, I’m home’, but he doesn’t want to wake Hailey if she’s sleeping and he’s not sure how she would respond to the term of endearment even if it is said teasingly.

It’s funny how that is the thing he feels would be crossing the practically non-existent line they have towing for the past several days. Or weeks really if he’s honest with himself.

As it turns out, she’s not sleeping but still in very much the same position he’d left her in. The TV was on, a rerun of ‘Happy Days’ playing quietly but she doesn’t seem to be paying much attention. Instead, she’s looking down at the phone in her hand, clearly scrolling through something before glancing up at him.

Her eyebrows rise as she takes in the various Target bags he’s carrying in both hands. Hailey let her phone drop in her lap, more interested in what Jay had bought because all she’d sent him out for were Snickers Bars, “Did you buy the whole store?”

He frowns at her as he finds the bag of take-out Chinese he’d ended up getting for their late lunch-early supper to set on the nightstand, “No, I did not, but I did get real food and,” He holds up the other bags he was carrying, “I got you your Snickers.”

Whatever else he’d bought was forgotten as she beamed up at him, already reaching for the candy bar he was digging for throughout his purchases. When he finally found what he was looking for, he tossed it to her, and she immediately ripped open the wrapper.

He makes a face as she bites into the sugary chocolate, “I still don’t know how you eat that crap.”

She responds with an eyeroll because her mouth was too full to make a witty comeback.

“You could at least wait till you ate actual food first,” Jay arched a disapproving eyebrow, his nose wrinkling as he watched her make an obvious display of enjoying her treat. He shakes his head and deposits the Target bags on the lower end of the bed to pull out the bottles of vitamin water he’d bought for her.

“Here, I got your favorite and a couple of new ones for you to try,” He handed her the blackberry flavored one before retrieving the pill bottles that were sitting on the nightstand beside their bag of food.

He read the instructions on each bottle then opened the oxycodone to dump one out, “Okay, you can have one right now and,” He checked his watch, “One at around seven then another at eleven.”

Hailey frowns, but takes the pill out of his outstretched palm anyway, “I hate the way these make me feel. My head feels fuzzy, and I can’t think clearly.”

Jay gives her a sympathetic smile and offers a simple, “I know” because he does know, but he also knows that if she has any hope of getting rest tonight, she needed to be well medicated.

“Maybe tomorrow we’ll try going all day without pain meds, okay? I just want to make sure you have a good night’s rest tonight since it’s your first night out of the hospital,” He tells her as he shakes out an antibiotic pill and then the iron supplement the doctor had prescribed her with for the next few days to hand to her.

Nodding, she knocks the three pills back and takes a swig of her vitamin water. Meeting his gaze, she reaches out to grab his hand and gives it a tight squeeze, “Thank you, Jay.”

The heavy tension that settles over them is now a familiar one and it’s almost comforting in a way as she tells him with her eyes how grateful she is for him.

After a few moments of silence, she clears her throat and withdraws her hand, turning her attention to the bags of stuff piled on the bed, “So, what’d you get?”

Jay blinks, shaking himself out of the trance they’d just been in as he rifled through the things he’d bought, pulling them out to show Hailey, “Well, I did some research and according to WebMD which was confirmed by my brother, weighted blankets can help with muscle soreness and speed up the recovery process.”

“I also got some ice packs,” He dumps out about a dozen before reaching in yet another bag, “And I picked up some of your favorite movies as well as a couple of pairs of fuzzy socks because I know you didn’t pack any and the hospital socks are terrible.”

The tears that spring to her eyes aren’t unexpected because the fact that he knows and remembers how much she loves wearing fuzzy socks when she’s at home decompressing tells her how much he cares even if he hasn’t really said it out loud yet.

The research, the weighted blanket, the movies, the treats, the socks; it’s slightly overbearing, but it’s sweet and it’s so undeniably him that it makes her heart hurt with the love she has for him.

She gives him a soft smile, “For someone who claims to not know me, he sure does take care of me and brings me all of my favorite things.”

“Well, after four years I would hope to know some things,” Jay smirks at her before moving to put the ice packs in the small fridge/freezer combo they had in the room.

He looks back at her over his shoulder, “But, I somehow missed your Snickers habit and it makes me wonder what else I should probably know, but don’t.”

Rolling her eyes, she watches as Jay moves back over to the bed, going for the food he’d sat on the nightstand.

“You know you’re not exactly an open book,” She points out with a wry smile.

He’s not an open book, it’s true, and even though she’s teasing him about it, she knows him better than anyone. Maybe better than even Will knows him. Maybe better than he even knows himself, and it’s ironic because the way she knows him better than anyone is more so through his actions and not his words.

She knows his heart through his acts of compassion. She knows his mind through his steady emotions. And she knows him because he lets her see the deepest parts of himself, unspoken secrets swimming in his eyes and dark memories whispered over drinks.

She knows the things that matter and the same could be said about the things he knows about her, but now that it’s being brought up, she does wonder if there are any meaningless habits she hasn’t bared witness to.

If her mind goes straight to those of a personal nature such as nighttime routines and shower preferences, then she’d never admit it.

“Well,” He handed her a container of Shrimp Lo Mein, “We’re stuck in this hotel room with basically nothing to do so,” Jay sat down on the bed, facing her with his own container of Chinese, “Let’s play a game.”

Hailey arches a skeptical eyebrow, “A game?”

“Yeah,” Jay nods as he takes a bite of his own Lo Mein, “Like one of those ‘get to know you’ games since we apparently don’t know much about each other.”

She frowns, a little unconvinced at this plan and what it could entail, but she’s curious and the slight woozy feeling she feels from the pain meds makes her ask, “What kind of ‘get to know you’ game? Like truth or dare?”

Smirking, he shakes his head, “No. Although, that could be extremely entertaining.”

“Uh-uh. No way am I drinking a bottle of hot sauce or jumping off the balcony or some other insanely difficult thing that you would think was easy,” She takes a bite of her food, trying to shake back the loose hair that keeps falling into her face, “I just had surgery.”

He’s full-on grinning now, chuckling at her impassioned response, “Nothing like that. I was thinking more along the lines of 21 Questions.”

Hailey tries to take another bite of her food, but her hair gets in the way again. She’s starting to get frustrated at the locks that keep falling into her eyes and mouth, making it hard to eat.

Sticking her chopsticks into the take-out container, she uses the now free hand to push her hair behind her ears as she shrugs, “Alright then. We don’t really have anything better to do other than watch movies and eat takeout anyways.”

The way his eyes sparkle at her answer is worth all the cheesy questions she’s sure he’s going to ask.

He stands up, shoving a used napkin into his now empty takeout container and she’s always amazed at how quickly he can down food when he wants to, “We can alternate asking questions and we don’t have to ask exactly 21 questions. It can be more, or it can be less.”

He throws his trash away and starts cleaning up the bed, moving all of the empty Target bags and the stuff he bought off to one side, “Is there anything off limits?”

She hesitates before saying no, shaking her head because while her natural inclination is to keep everything close to the vest, she knows there is nothing that she wouldn’t share with Jay if he asked her.

He makes her feel safe, and she’s constantly finding herself telling him things that she’d never said out loud before anyway, so she already knows that he will guard her secrets and feelings and thoughts deep in his own heart as if they were his own.

It’s like he knows what she’s thinking because the way he smiles at her is so gentle and the secretive sparkle in his eyes is what tells her that the same goes for him.

“You wanna go first or do you want me to?” Jay cocks his head, looking at her as he tears into the weighted blanket.

“You can go first,” She goes to take another bite of food when her hair falls into her face for what feels like the hundredth time.

She sighs internally, her frustration going unnoticed by Jay who had turned back towards the movies he’d bought, opening each of them as he tells her he has to make this first question a good one.

Pretty quickly after waking up from surgery, Hailey had found putting her hair up in its typical ponytail an almost impossible task because every time she raised her arms to gather her hair up, her stitches would pull, and her ribs protested loudly.

After several failed attempts that left her eyes watering, she ended up having a nurse put it up for her and she continued to ask for it done in the mornings before Jay arrived at the hospital to keep her company.

But now, there was no nurse to gather up her long, annoying hair when it keeps falling in her face and even though she’s stubborn enough to try it, Hailey knows if she pulls on her stitches or possibly breaks one, then she’s going to be paying for it tomorrow all because she wanted to put her hair up herself.

She sighs again, this one audible as she sets her Chinese container on the nightstand, “Jay?”

“Yeah?” He turns to look at her, his brows furrowed in concern.

Hailey bites her lip sheepishly as she snaps the elastic band around her wrist against her skin, “Can you put my hair up?”

He looks surprised for a moment before he smirks at the slight blush dusting her cheeks at having to ask for help with a task this simple, “Of course I can, Hailey.”

She hands him the ponytail holder as he walks over to the side of the bed, “But I will warn you. I’ve never done this before.”

She wants to tease him. Maybe tell him he’d better start practicing now if he ever hopes for a daughter one day, but it feels too on the nose when she wants that daughter to be hers too.

So instead, she smirks at him as he moves behind her to start gathering her hair up in awkward chunks. Hailey glances at him out of the corner of her eye, fake gasping, “Don’t tell me that the brave and noble Detective Jay Halstead, the man who jumps over moving cars and shoots sniper rifles doesn’t know how to put hair up in a ponytail.”

“Oh, shut up,” He grumbles good-naturedly, still trying to smooth her blonde hair into his loosely closed fist on top of her head, “It’s not like I’ve really had the opportunity or need to practice.”

Chuckling, she lets him concentrate on pulling her hair through the elastic and tries not to get lost in the feeling of his fingers in her hair and the warmth radiating off him. Her eyes flutter close and she marvels at how gentle he is even with the strength of his hands, well-conditioned in the act of squeezing a trigger.

And just like when making those shots, the precision in which he does everything is still there as he carefully tightens the elastic, securing her hair into place.

Hot breath hit the back of her now exposed neck and she can’t help but shiver. Before he’s stepping away, she swears she feels his hands brush her skin and she wonders if he’s equally as affected as she was by his closeness.

But before it can turn into anything, he’s smiling and settling back into his spot at the foot of the bed, gesturing to the ponytail he’d just completed, “It’s not as good as you do it, but I think it’ll pass.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Jay. It’s out of my face and it’s not like anyone will see it,” She grins at him as she picks up her food, intending to finish it off now that her hair won’t get in her way.

Jay frowns teasingly, “Hey, and what about me? Am I not someone?”

She smiles softly in amusement, “You’ve seen me in worse states and you’re not just anyone, you know that. You’re my best friend, Jay,” She hesitates because she knows that’s not strictly true. He is her best friend and he’s her partner but he’s also the man she loves, and it would be so easy to let the truth slip out.

Looking at him, she sees something in his eyes that looks like hope or maybe anticipation and she wonders if he thinks she’s going to tell him the one secrete she just can’t seem to get out. Maybe she would have told him if they sat there for a few seconds longer, but his phone buzzes and the moment is gone before it really even began.

Hailey wonders if phones are going to be their downfall.

She thinks she sees disappointment flash across his face, but she blinks and he’s looking at his phone with a serious expression.

“Is everything okay?” Her brow furrows as she watches him type out a quick response and put the device back into his pocket.

He shakes his head, sighing, “That was Kev. The Latin Players are on the verge of waging war against a new up and coming gang called The Jets.”

Interjecting, Hailey raises a brow, “As in West Side Story?”

“Yep,” Jay lets out a wry chuckle, “Anyway, the team flipped someone on The Jets’ side, and it looks like they are possibly willing to play ball so Kev was asking for some background info on my Latin Player connect because Intelligence is going to attempt to negotiate a truce before it can escalate to a full-blown gang war.”

She groans quietly, all too aware of the potential complications and ramifications that come from this type of violence, “That’s just what the city needs. A gang war.”

He huffs in agreement, dropping his head in disgust and she can see the tension in his shoulders. Even eight-hundred miles away, the crime and the innocent people that inevitably gets tangled up in it affects him.

Hailey frowns, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. She reaches out a hand to lightly touch his bent knee, “Jay.”

He looks up at her and the empathy she sees in his eyes makes her heart swell in what’s becoming a familiar sensation. Love and pride and admiration and respect for this man she has the privilege to know.

Her eyes soften and she smiles gently at him, an earnest look on her face, “If you need to go home, go home Jay. I’ll be alright here by myself. I don’t need you to take care of me.”

If the situation wasn’t so serious, she might have laughed at the way his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, clearly not expecting those words to come out of her mouth.

Recovering, his eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head adamantly, “No way. They can get along without me. I’m not leaving here without you and I don’t care if you think you can take care of yourself because who’s going to help you change your bandages or make you take your medicine or keep you company?”

He challenges in a slightly playful manner, but the eyebrow he raises dares her to contradict him and she knows he is serious, “Besides, I need to be here if I want to keep my own peace of mind. I don’t work well without you, so I’m not sure how much help I’d be anyway.”

She knows that no matter the circumstance, Jay would always perform above and beyond the call of duty, but she also knows that this is his way of telling her that he needs her and the way he was willing to stay with her in New York makes her heart stutter in yet another way.

Before she can dwell on the feeling any further, he’s smiling again, his eyes crinkling with mischief, “Now back to the game. I think I have the perfect question for you.”

Sorry it ended in a bit of an awkward spot, but I decided to split it into two parts when I hit 10,000 words and I still wasn’t done yet lol so I didn’t know this was going to be the ending of a chapter.

I’d love to hear what you thought and stay tuned for part three!

#upstead #upstead fanfiction #jay and hailey #hailey and jay #onechicago #chicagopd

75 notes · View notes

starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Fame With No Shame | Part Three

A/N; I think at most there will be one more part to this series, and that will be the reveal of Luke and the readers relationship to the public. Thankyou for all of the requests for this series, please enjoy xx

Summary; in the midst of an interview, there is talk of (Y/N) dating a member. The interviewer is keen to find who is the lucky gentleman within their ranks, but can Luke remain steady though the enquiries about his girl?

Brushing his hands down his black clothed legs, Luke sat upon the seat, eyes interpreting his composure. His face was slightly flushed, aware that his hair was a bouquet of messy curls, the state of his redress had not gone unnoticed by the hostess nor his curious band members. All were wondering of whom he had hassled sexually with before this set, but nothing was mentioned, at least not yet.

A small part of him wanted to let the world know of his relationship status, and more importantly, whom he was entangled with. But it would all be released in due time, he would just have to remain both vigilant of letting anything slip and patient. The rumours could manage to infuriate and humour him all at once, so many fans had claimed to know the identity of the woman in his life.

There were many suspicions, although they were only proven by the hope and dedication of all kinds of people on sites such as tumblr and wattpad, that his lover that was concealed to their eyes was not a lady at all. It was perceived that it was a bandmate; a dear friend of his, that he was sleeping and taking midnight strolls with.

That of course was not the truth, the shipping had been dragging on for years, he sometimes wished that the guesses could be correct all by their own. (Y/N) however was amused by how much it infuriated him, and all of his frustrations would dissipate at the sound of her glorious laugh, and in the end, all that was left was for him to join in and relax.

Things between them were certainly going good, to say the least. He had never felt so elated to see someone pour themselves a mug of coffee, or tie their shoelaces. It wasn’t hard, and hadn’t been difficult for him to admit the facts – he was in love. If there was any evidence that they existed, he was sure that he had found his soulmate.

She understood not only his emotions, but his springs of motivation, the ideas that would creep in the middle of the night or whilst he was in the bathroom for songs. His process was normal to her, because she experienced the same waves of inspiration, the urge to write what flowed to mind and execute lyrics until they were sure enough ready and sounded right to be released to the rest of the world.

And together, that was like the universe had combined the two creators for a reason, to make a beautiful sound, an eternal symphony that would play on forever and a day. If people knew about them, it could disturb the state of their peace, the security that they found within their relationship. And that would be the most tragic and morbid interference that either of them could ever experience.

Hate online was strong, and (Y/N) suspected that neither of them were prepared to take the mixed responses to their newfound and blooming romance. Each of them individually received the expressions of resenting opinions, through messages, through posts, through the loop of the internet. It was never ending, the trolls were headstrong and stubborn, they didn’t want to be stopped, and any reply that they got in turn only made their day, encouraging them to cackle away at the fact that they drew a celebrity’s attention and time away from more important matters.

“And we’re live.” The hostess of the radio show confirmed, settling more comfortably into her plush, swivel seat, as she set her digging eyes into the men that were seated around the platform of a small, recorded station. “My name is Heidi, and we are here on HotRadio, with the one, the only, Five Seconds of Summer.”

Luke adjusted his headset, leaning closer to the microphone so that he was close enough to allow his reviews and answers be heard better than when he was reclined back, awaiting the start of the recording. “So now tell me boys, how was it working with (Y/N) (L/N) for your new single, Flashes.” He gulped at the mention of her name, this wasn’t the best situation, considering that he could accidentally allow some classified information slip, and spiral through the channels of the web.

“She was amazing!” Michael blazed in with his initial impression of her, a jolly grin spread across his lips and chin. “We’ve been fans of her work for so long, it was a dream to finally work with her.” His hands waved as he spoke, confirming his excitement, although working with (Y/N) had already been and gone.

“Yeah.” Ashton bobbed his head, agreeing with his friend. “She is such a talented woman, we don’t do many collaborations singing with other people, but all four of us can definitely admit that she was such a great sport. She put so much work into the song, from lyrics and notes, there is a bright future ahead of her.”

The boys speaking of her made Luke want to purposely trip in his secrecy, they had no expense from gushing over her in such an idealistic way. However if he were to join in, he’d risk the exposure of the relationship. (Y/N) would be mad at him if he were to do that, so he rubbed his chin, feeling the growing prickles of stubble against his guitar picked hands.

Heidi smiled, they were eager to tell her their what appeared to be honest opinion. Yet there were still more details that she and the fans sought; answers. There were so many questions that were lingering, waiting to be spoken aloud in the recorded air.

“Was there any romance sparked between one of you and (Y/N)? How about you Calum?” It was typical, the enquiries about the song itself, that was supposed to be the main attention of this interview , it wasn’t about love, or feelings or whatever.

The thought that Calum, out of all of them, was the one considered to have gained her affections made Luke bite the inside of his cheek. Sure, Calum was single, but so was he, or at least was in the media’s eyes, and before he met (Y/N).

Luke’s frown was subtle, but it was still there! And everyone was oblivious to his disconcerting expression, all because the spotlight shined on the bassist, and the idea that he, out of all them, was privileged enough to have possibly shared a bed or the exchange of numbers in the static noise of the track.

Cal cleared his throat, ruffling the collar of his shirt, as though there were a reason for him to be fanning himself. “I mean, I’m not one to disclose that personal information.” That son of a bitch, Luke thought. From his response, something had obviously occurred, it was too bland for an answer.

That was until said boy began to laugh, spewing a humoured chuckle from his mouth whilst looking Luke dead in the eyes. The opposing man could only frown, his face hardened by the strong crease that went down the centre of it.

“Too bad she already has a boyfriend.” Michael chipped in, the guitarist’s attitude and statement not only making Luke paranoid, but also worried. What if he were not the only one that had grabbed the affections of (Y/N)?

To begin with, it was clear that she was a bit of a player, and he had no problem with it, there was nothing wrong at all with a woman embracing her sexuality, it was even kind of sexy. But now they were partners in a relationship, and he could only trust her to be faithful.

Mikey’s words had not only drawn the intrigue of the lead singer, but also Heidi, who was leant forward in her seat, the dimples in her face prominent as she was presenting glee from hearing first time news, that was broadcasting on her radio channel.

“Are we permitted to be told who the lucky gentleman is?” How she hoped that the revelation would be unconcealed during this very interview, personally the woman was curious herself, but also the thought of the views skyrocketing encouraged her desperation for an answer.

Ash smirked, his eyes fluttering through his trio of bandmates, this was certainly entertaining for the rest of them also. Except one from the looks of it, Luke was gnawing on the outer portion of his lip. This was getting to him, just as they wanted. They knew, all along, what was occurring between Luke and the talented lady.

She had been a crush of his for a long time, and it seemed that she shared that affliction of interests, by being attracted to the natural blonde himself. It was noticeable to the boys from the first time that (Y/N) had entered the studio, their eyes navigated to the sight of the other, and their attention had to be drawn for the pair to look away from one another.

“One of us.” The eldest member replied, and Luke realised that in that moment, he had not been as discreet with the entire dating ordeal as he thought he had. They’d quickly realised that there were strings attached when Luke began to miss their nights out clubbing, and said he’d prefer to stay in and watch a movie – alone.

However, it was not a solitary activity, and binging television was not all that the promiscuous man was partaking in. The symptoms that brought light and revelation to Luke and (Y/N)’s involvement was matching marks of red suction bites around the circumferences of their throats, that eventually healed and could be concealed, however the boys could see right through their efforts.

And then there was the undebatable evidence of smeared lipstick scorned across their lips, a shade which consisted perfectly against one another, from nudes to striking reds, the pigment that streaked against Luke’s vigorously hungry lips consisted to be suspiciously similar to the original prominence that was lined and filled on (Y/N)’s own petalled mouth.

“Oh.” It appeared that the prying interviewer had not even put any efforts into hiding her pleasantly condemned grin, every detail that was slipping through the teeth of the men gave her some kind of joy.

She had somehow hit a gold mine with the answers that her pay check curiosity had earned her. There was so much going on behind the scenes that had never been revealed, and it seemed that all would be exposed, on HotRadio! “Are we granted to know which one of you is the lucky man?”

Luke shifted in his chair, gripping onto the arms with his painted nails. He was prepared to hit rock bottom in this deep deep ocean that he had swam himself into, yet a snicker left Cal, bringing all afraid and all too alert attention to him.

“I think not, we can keep a secret for a little longer.” His eyes paced slyly over to Luke, sending him an all knowing wink.

He sighed, he lived to fight another day.

138 notes · View notes

emsylcatac · 4 years

Text

A little push

Summary:

Alya asks Chat Noir to record a video of himself encouraging Marinette to confess...to Adrien.

Of course his mouth speaks on its own. Of course he says yes.

Of course his Lady is most likely sure to kill him.

...And of course Marinette feels like she's the one who's about to die.

Read it on AO3

Happy (very late) birthday to @janaikam ♥

I hope you’ll like this post-reveal pre-relationship fic!

A big thank you to Bren, Lisa & Alizeh for beta-reading this you’re all amazing!

* * * * *

“Pound it!”

Adrien looked into Marinette’s eyes as he said it and she did the same, giving him that soft smile of hers that never failed to make him feel better. They lingered a few seconds with their fists touching, searching each other’s eyes knowingly.

Even though it had been months since they’d discovered each other’s identities, they couldn’t help but share a special glance that said, ‘I know who you are now’.

They disconnected their fists and turned towards the victim of the day—a woman in her thirties—who was slowly gathering her bearings. Marinette walked towards her and helped her stand up, offering words of reassurance.

Adrien watched her fondly before joining her and giving the woman a pep talk himself, until she left, thanking them once again.

“Well, Kitty, we did good today, eh?” Marinette said, nudging him with her elbow.

Adrien laughed. “Of course we did, we’re unstoppable! But I think you should go, you’re about to detransform soon,” he winked.

“Olala, I should hurry! Wouldn’t want you to find out my oh-so secret identity super top secret!”

They both giggled, Adrien shaking his head. “I’ll see you in class on Monday,” she whispered, and dropped a kiss on his cheek before flying away.

He touched his cheek and stared at her retreating form. He was about to let yet one of his all too recurrent lovesick sigh when a voice called out to him.

“Pssst, Chat Noir!”

He turned his head, only to be met by Alya’s grinning face and waving hand. He beamed at her, noting that he still had enough time left if she wanted a small interview.

“Well well well, if that isn’t our ever-so always intrepid Ladyblogger!”

Alya took that as a sign that she could come and talk to him, laughing all the way.

“Please, call me Miss Ladyblogger, The Most Intrepid And Greatest Reporter Of All Time, and not to brag, also personal favourite citizen of our local heroes themselves, between you and me.”

“Oh, my bad,” Adrien chuckled. “What do you need of me? An interview? A selfie featuring my best winning smile? Or,” he dropped his voice conspiratorially, a hand around his mouth, “pictures of Ladybug falling in the fountain because she was scared of…a ladybug?”

Alya laughed. “Actually, I had a favour to ask from you, but if these pictures are still on the table… how much would you want for them?”

Adrien winked. “Give me a croissant and I’m your cat, if you don’t tell Ladybug about your sources, of course.”

She smirked. “Of course. It’s a deal. I’ll have your croissant same time, same place tomorrow.”

“Lovely. Now what was it you needed of me, before my time is up?”

“Oh. So this is gonna sound really weird but...Okay. So my best friend is a fan of yours; her name’s Marinette, I don’t know if you’ve heard of her?”

Adrien bit back a laugh and tapped his bell. “Rings a bell, must have met her once or twice. Admirable citizen, just like you!”

“Why, thank you,” she said, falsely flattered. “Well. So Marinette is trying to hype herself up to confess to the boy she loves—”

Oh.

“—but she’s always had troubles, you know? Except now she told me that she really wanted to do it, and I’m so proud of her! She has been in love with our friend Adrien for so long now—”

OH.

Adrien’s brain short-circuited after that, and Alya was talking, and probably saying very interesting things, but what was it about Marinette loving him?!

“—So, could you do that? It would really mean a lot to her! ...Chat Noir?”

He startled, trying to reconnect with reality, and was met with Alya’s confused frown.

“Sorry,” he said—because yes he could still speak, which was great, wasn’t it?—“I didn’t quite catch that last part. Could you repeat, please?”

“Oh! Yes, so I was wondering—since I’ve heard from akuma victims and Ladybug herself that you give the best pep talks and since Marinette holds you high in her esteem— if you would agree to give her a few encouraging words while I record you? I want it to be a little surprise for her.”

Oh. Now that was a funny situation.

...A very, very embarrassing situation he had no idea how to get out from.

Was it true? Was Marinette really in love with him? It made sense, in a way, he reasoned.

It would explain a lot of things.

But what would Marinette think if she saw him, Chat Noir him, making a video for her to confess to him, Adrien him?!

...She would probably hate him forever.

“...Chat Noir?” Alya’s voice brought him back on Earth once again. She was looking at him with what he assumed were the best pleading puppy eyes she could muster, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t working. Now he knew why Marinette couldn’t say ‘no’ to Alya and vice-versa. “Could you do it? Please please please please pleeeaaaase? I’ll bring you another croissant! And Marinette really deserves it, you can’t deny her that—”

“Sure.” He heard his voice speak. Oh no. “I would love to!” Sometimes he wished he hadn’t been gifted with the ability to talk.

Alya let out a happy squeal, pulling out her camera. It almost convinced him that he had made the right decision in agreeing. Almost. “Thank you, Chat Noir, you’re the best! Marinette is going to be so happy after seeing it, no way she won’t nail her confession!”

“Hahaha…yeah...no way…”

Marinette was going to be mad at him. He didn’t know whether he should warn her or not; call her or not.

But one thing he was sure of, he was not at all ready to face her after that.

“So when you’re ready,” he gave an awkward thumbs up, “on the count of three… One...two...three...aaaand action!”

Adrien stared at the red indicator light on Alya’s camera, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. It was a terrible feeling. If a deer miraculous existed, he was sure very glad that he wasn’t its owner.

Alya nodded at him, reminding him that he had to speak.

“So,” he brought a hand to his neck, rubbing it awkwardly, “um, hello, M-Marinette, as you can probably see, this is Chat Noir! I’m here to tell you that...to tell you that...that…” He took a deep breath, trying to summon confidence he wasn’t sure he possessed at the time, and looked straight into the camera. “I’m here to tell you that I believe in you. I know you’re an amazing person and—”

* * * * *

“—you’ve been proving that you were very brave the few times that I met you. What I mean is...trust in yourself, and I’m sure your confession to...to that boy…”

“—Adrien,” Alya’s voice added in a harsh whisper.

“...Right. That boy A-Adrien will be very...very happy to hear it. I mean, you saying it, yeah he’ll be, um. Overjoyed. I think. Probably. So good luck and, uh...be happy.”

Marinette stared at her phone screen as the video ended, stopping on Chat Noir’s awkward finger guns with a face that clearly screamed like he just wanted to drown himself into the Seine, a sentiment she was currently sharing with him.

She couldn’t move for the next few minutes, replaying his words in her head. She didn’t dare to press “play” again and feel the embarrassment she was already feeling more and more a second time.

It was sweet of Alya, really. And well thought out. And Marinette probably would have loved the attention if the person she was planning on confessing to wasn’t the one encouraging her in this stupid video.

“Marinette?” she faintly heard Tikki’s voice calling out to her.

“I’m gonna die. No, wait… I’m already dead.” And with that, she dropped her phone on the floor and threw herself unceremoniously onto her bed, an arm covering her face.

“Marinette, this is great!” Tikki squealed. Marinette violently pulled her arm away to look at her. “Chat Noir said Adrien would be overjoyed to hear your confession!”

“Tikki. He said that ‘Adrien’,” she quoted the name with her fingers, “will probably be overjoyed. Keyword: probably. Keyface: the desperate one he was throwing at the camera screaming ‘please let me die’. How is any of this great, uh?”

Tikki didn’t answer right away. “Well,” she spoke in a timid voice, “if you’re both gonna die, then at least you’ll be together?”

Marinette knew Tikki was always trying to be optimistic, but this was a little much.

Tikki sighed. “Listen, I know it looks embarrassing—”

“—understatement of the century—”

“—but now you have the hardest part of your confession already done! All you have to do is call him or wait for him to call and—”

Marinette gasped and straightened up suddenly. “HIM TO CALL!” she screamed, and grabbed her phone.

When it was clear that no new notifications had appeared, she released a loud sigh to alleviate the pressure and fell back on her bed dramatically.

“Tikki. He hasn’t called. Or left any messages.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to do it?”

“Maybe.” Maybe not.

Marinette continued to stare at the ceiling, a thousand thoughts running through her head, all catastrophic.

“Tikki,” she called again. “He’s never gonna love me, isn’t he?”

“You know that’s not true.”

Marinette ignored her kwami. She grabbed her Chat Noir plushie that was snuggled up against her cat pillow, held it in front of her, and caressed the side of its ear and hair with one hand.

“All I want is to get lost in his emerald green eyes,” she almost sniffed, “pet his cute little kitty ears,” she rubbed the doll’s cat ear between her fingers, “and...and kiss his adorable kitty nose,” she bopped its nose, “and hold him close to me,” and she hugged the doll close to her chest.

“Marinette, don’t you think that you’re being a little dramatic here?” Tikki’s voice pulled her out of her reverie.

She glared at her, straightened up and shoved the doll into the kwami’s face.

“Tikki. There is nothing dramatic when it comes to this boy and my feelings for him.” She brought back the plushie close to her and lowered her voice. “I love you Adrien,” she murmured, before dropping a kiss on its forehead with a loud mwah.

Tikki sighed. “Well, now that you just practiced your confession and are ready for next time you see him, off to bed!”

Marinette pouted and gave her a distraught look.

Tikki’s expression turned kinder and more tender. “I’m sure everything is going to be perfect, Marinette. You don’t have to worry.”

“I hope you’re right, Tikki,” she answered while the kwami nuzzled her cheek. “I hope you’re right.”

* * * * *

“Are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?” Marinette asked again.

“Nope,” Alya grinned. “This is going to be fun, I promise.”

Marinette groaned playfully, the bag of croissants her best friend had asked her to bring swinging at the rhythm of her pace. It was a nice morning, and it was sunny for once in Paris. Marinette might not have slept a lot that night, but Alya’s overjoyed mood was lifting up her spirit.

...Until a realisation hit her and she suddenly stopped walking. “You’re not going to bring me to see Adrien, are you? Because you, dragging me on a Sunday morning, with croissants...”

Alya just laughed. “Of course not, silly. That’s you and only you who will have to decide when you meet up with him. I think I’ve done my part already,” she winked.

“Your par—oh. The video.”

“Yes, the video, the last little push you needed to have the most perfect and grand love confession that love history itself has never heard!” Alya dramatically said while making wide gestures with her arms, which would have amused Marinette greatly were it not for the tight knot she could still feel in her stomach from the previous day.

She forced a laugh. “Hahahahahaaa, yes it was very nice of…of Chat Noir to accept and…”

“Oh my god, Marinette,” Alya interrupted her. “Chat Noir was such a sweetheart. I wasn’t expecting him to accept but it was really nice of him.”

“Ooooh, yes yes, veeeery very nice of him, he really shouldn’t have,” Marinette nervously nodded.

“Right?! He probably had tons of other things to do but he still chose to take the time for us,” she kept on gushing.

Marinette thought she must have nodded dumbly after that. Talking about Chat Noir and the video just reminded her that he knew now and that she had no idea about what he thought of it.

That she had yet to officially confess—that she had yet to face him.

And somehow, the fact that he knew that she was in love with him when she hadn’t even told him herself, well… It felt more stressful than any surprise confession she could have planned.

“...and he even said that you were an admirable citizen, by the way,” she heard Alya’s voice talking to her again.

“Who? Me?”

“Yes, you! And me too, but that goes without saying,” she fake-bragged. “But come on, we’re almost there.” She grabbed her hand and pulled her in a small run, eyes glinting, and Marinette had no other choice but laugh at her best friend’s antics.

They passed by a small shop Marinette recognised as one that was destroyed the previous day during the akuma attack. They turned around a corner she knew would leave them were they defeated that akuma and—

“He’s already here!” Alya gasped.

—Chat Noir was casually leaning back against a wall, seemingly lost in thoughts and inspecting his claws.

...And all of Marinette’s panic came back full force in the span of a second. She was not ready. She was so, so not ready to meet him just yet.

She unknowingly gripped the bag of croissants and Alya’s hand tighter, using the latter as an anchor.

“Hoy, Chat Noir!” Alya waved at him.

Adrien turned his head.

Smiled and waved back.

Looked at her.

Dropped his hand and smile, eyes widening in horror.

Clearly, he too hadn’t expected her. She was probably looking at him with the same horrified look on her face and cursed her inability to pretend that everything was perfectly fine on command.

Luckily, Alya didn’t seem to notice the tension between them.

“I’m glad to see you remember our little deal,” she joked.

Adrien, bless him, quickly schooled his expression into a more neutral one and turned to Alya.

“Of course. A promise is a promise.”

“I’ve got your croissants,” she went on. “All warm of today from the one and only Dupain-Cheng bakery!”

“Wooohhh,” Marinette could hear the forced enthusiasm in his voice, “that sounds de-li-cious!”

He quickly glanced at her, and she averted her eyes immediately.

A nudge from Alya reminded her that she was the one with the bag of croissants and that she was supposed to hand it to him.

She all but shoved it into his face.

Great.

“Oops, err, sorry, here,” she apologised, dropping the bag in his hands instead.

“It’s fine, thanks,” he answered quietly.

She didn’t dare to look at him. Maybe he was looking at her, or maybe he was avoiding her, too. It felt awkward.

It felt so wrong.

Wouldn’t he look overjoyed if he was in love with her and just learned she loved him back? Wouldn’t he?

Alya’s voice pulled her out of her spiralling thoughts. “So, do you have my merchandise, hm?”

Marinette looked up to Adrien who seemed to be startled from his own thoughts, too. “Of course,” he zipped down his pocket, “here. It’s all on this USB key.”

He gave Alya a wink for good measure.

“Thank you, you’re the best!”

“What’s on it?” Marinette asked, more to pretend that she was invested in whatever was happening than out of real curiosity.

“Ah-a! That’s for me to know and you to never found out,” Alya wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh by the way,” she gave a small movement of the head in Adrien’s direction, “what did you think of the video?”

Marinette’s eyes widened in horror and she looked into Adrien’s eyes to see him looking back at her absolutely...terrified. She couldn’t find a better word to describe it.

He looked….he looked terrified.

...He really had moved on, hadn’t he? She was too late, and the idea that he would have to reject her terrified him, wasn’t it?

Marinette tried to control her emotion and keep the tears she could already feel prickling her eyes from escaping.

“The...the video?” she said timidly. “The one you sent me yesterday with Chat Noir?”

Alya nodded enthusiastically. Adrien was offering a tentative smile but she could see how much it was costing him to do it.

“Oh yes I hope… I hope it’s gonna help you,” he murmured in a trembling voice.

...She couldn’t do it right now. Internally cursing herself for being a stupid coward or some other name she didn’t even had in mind, she took a deep breath and summoned the cheeriest voice she could muster.

“Ooooh hahahaha, yes it was very nice of you and um, and a good surprise! But pfffeeew, it wasn’t necessary at all, I mean! I loved that you took your time for me but… I’m totally over Adrien, hehe. It wasn’t even a big big crush I had you know, just a tiny tiny little feeling, but now it’s all gone into the wind, wooooshh!”

She could feel Alya’s incredulous eyes on her, and saw the small smile Adrien had been trying to maintain completely disappear.

“But… Marinette, what are you saying? Just yesterday you were telling me on the phone that you were head over heels for Adrie—”

“Exactly,” Marinette cut, nodding, “yesterday is suuuuuch a long time ago, things have totally changed now!”

Her statement was met with silence, so she looked awkwardly from Adrien to Alya, and to Adrien again.

Adrien, who looked like a part of his world had just crumbled in front of his very eyes.

“Well,” he said, voice quivering, and she suddenly felt like she was falling from very, very high, “it’s okay.”

It was not.

“I’m glad to know that you’ve made peace with your feelings,”

Oh god no, please no.

“and that you don’t really need my help to...to confess.”

No, no, no...Everything, but not this.

“Chat Noir…” Alya tried to speak, sounding apologetic.

Adrien gave her a wobbly smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m always happy to help, even if things don’t always work out as we hope they would. And it was fun to spend a little time with you two.”

Marinette wanted to speak, but no words would come. She was sure her tears were visible and she tried to convey what she wanted to say with her eyes instead except...she didn’t even know what exactly she wanted to tell him.

Probably it was why she couldn’t form a sound.

Adrien’s eyes met hers for a split second, and he turned around, his back to them.

“Well, if you’ll excuse-me, I have somewhere else to be. I hope you two have a nice day.”

“Chat Noir, wait—”

But he extended his baton and soon disappeared behind a building.

“Wait…” Marinette whispered again, staring at the spot where he had just vanished.

“...Marinette?” Alya tentatively called out to her.

She turned to her best friend and let her tears free to roll on her cheeks.

“Alya... Why do I keep messing up? Why do I keep messing everything up?”

“Oh, girl… It’s okay.”

Alya pulled her in a hug and Marinette let herself cry.

“No, no it’s not. It’s… It’s not. Why did I say all of this? None of it is even true,” she sobbed.

Alya rubbed circles on her back and let her talk her heart out, listening patiently as always.

“You panicked at the idea of admitting again to someone that you loved Adrien?” she finally asked.

It wasn’t exactly that, but Marinette couldn’t really say why, so she just nodded into her neck.

Alya sighed. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have asked Chat Noir for this video. I thought it would be a good idea, but…”

Marinette shook her head frantically. “It was a great idea Alya, it’s not your fault.” And she meant it: she would have loved the video had Ladybug and Chat Noir not been her and Adrien. “It’s just me, I don’t know why I’m like this. And now, I hurt Chat Noir,” she whispered.

“Forget about Chat Noir right now,” Alya said. “It’s you who’s hurting. I’m sure he’ll understand, he said he had been happy to help anyway. And if you want, we can make a little video to tell him it was a joke,” she teased.

Marinette managed a giggle through her tears, and broke off the hug. Alya kept her hands on her shoulders.

“But seriously. Are you sure it’s only the Adrien thing that is making you cry? I feel like you’ve been more stressed than usual lately.”

She shrugged; she didn’t even know the answer to that.

“You know what?” Alya said, tone a little less consoling and a little cheerier. “I declare today as a girls day, and a make-Marinette-feel-better-day. So we’re going to have a nice lunch in a nice little restaurant, and then we’ll go to the cinema, how does that sound?”

Marinette finished to wipe her tears. “That sounds great Alya, thank you so much. I couldn’t have asked for a better best friend, you know... You’re always there for me.”

Alya laughed and gave her a side-hug, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Oh you could. You could have been me and have you as a best friend.”

That made her laugh. She still had to talk to Adrien, but for now she was glad to forget a little about him.

* * * * *

It had taken quite some time for Marinette and Adrien to get used to each other’s identities. They had been fumbling with their words a lot, overthinking each of their moves. It was a sort of out-of-body experience to merge two persons you viewed as two different entities into only one, and it had taken some time to really click in their mind and adjust their newfound dynamic.

So yes, it hadn’t been short, but they had gotten there—they had found a common, safe compromise.

But now, as Marinette anxiously watched Adrien’s back as he was packing his bag before leaving for lunch, it felt as if all this progress had been destroyed and they were not even back to square one, but to square minus ten.

She purposefully took more time than necessary to clean her table, nodding to Alya to let her know to go ahead and that she would join them at the cafeteria in a few.

And soon it was only the both of them left in the classroom.

Starting a conversation with Adrien had finally felt natural, like starting one with Chat Noir before they knew each other’s identities, yet it had never felt harder than now.

Thankfully, he was the one who took the plunge.

“Marinette? Can I… Can I ask about what happened this weekend?”

His tone wasn’t unkind, far from it, but it was also firm.

“This...this weekend?” she stuttered, cursing herself for pretending she didn’t know what he was referring to.

His expression crumpled a little and he sighed. “You know what I’m talking about. Listen, I’m gonna be honest with you—”

The knot she had in her stomach tightened and she could feel her heart beat faster—the kind of beat that wasn’t due to a sudden surge of love, but the one that was fearful of what the turn of events might be.

“—but sometimes, you confuse me. I mean, it got better now that we know, but there are times I don’t know what you think and…” he sighed again, and ruffled his hair.

Marinette kept staring at him; he was right.

“And this weekend, I finally thought I had figured it out, but then you…”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Adrien shook his head, looking like he was the one feeling sorry. He took a step towards her, and brought a hand to her face, gently putting some strands of hair behind her ear. “It feels like you don’t trust me with your feelings, my Lady,” he almost breathed. “I’ve always told you how I felt, or if something was bothering me...even if I’ve been more than clumsy about it at times.”

Marinette said nothing.

“I’m just asking you for the same honesty.”

He dropped his hand from her face but kept maintaining her gaze. His look was intense, expectant, but oh so disheartened.

“I’m sorry,” she finally mumbled again, because words still wouldn’t work.

His expression turned to a resigned one, and her heart broke a little.

“You know that you’re my best friend and that I’ll never think badly of you no matter what?” he said, before turning around.

“Adrien...wait—”

His phone rang.

“It’s the Gorilla. He’s waiting for me. I’ll see you after lunch,” and with that, he exited the classroom, leaving Marinette even more frustrated with herself than she had been before.

* * * * *

It’s precisely because something is important that it’s important to say, no matter what.

She had lost count of how many times she had repeated this in her head ever since Chat Noir had told it to her. She had often been close, so close to follow it and say what was on her heart.

So close... But she had never achieved it.

Marinette took a deep breath. Exhale.

Adrien was in the locker room, alone. All the other students had gone back home now, but a fencing lesson after class had held him up.

She had waited the entire lesson—she knew he would come by the locker room at the end to take some school books.

“Adrien?” she called timidly.

He stopped what he was doing, a hand on the locker door. He didn’t turn around.

How many times had she imagined confessing to him?

How many times had she planned her confession to him?

How many times had it all failed…?

Confessions don’t plan themselves, she figured. They just happen when they happen.

“I know you’re probably still frustrated with me, but...there are things I want to tell you.”

Hello Marinette; as you can probably see, this is Chat Noir.

“First of all...I’m sorry. For yesterday; for being confusing to you. For being a coward,” she whispered the last word.

I’m here to tell you that I believe in you.

“The truth is… I’ve always been afraid to open my heart, and especially to you.”

She couldn’t read his expression, but he hadn’t moved, his back still to her.

She took a step forward.

“Which is stupid, of course, because you’re my partner and there’s probably no one I trust more than you.”

You’re an amazing person—

Another step.

“But I think that’s because you’re so important to me that I’m scared to be honest with you. Because once I tell you…”

—and you’ve been proving that you were very brave.

“Once I tell you, you’ll know everything about me. And that’s terrifying.”

Trust in yourself.

“You told me once that it was because something was important to say that it was important to say it. No Matter what. Well. I have something important to tell you.”

She took another step, so she was standing right behind him now.

I’ll be happy to hear it.

“I love you, Adrien,” she whispered, and hugged him from behind.

You, saying it. I’ll be overjoyed.

“I love you,” she repeated louder into his back.

Good luck and…

She untangled herself from him. “I love you,” she said firmly, confident, one last time.

...Be happy.

Adrien turned around.

And he had the brightest smile she’s ever seen on his face, tears glistening at the corner of his eyes. Just like that, hers that she hadn’t noticed forming ran on her cheek and she let out a choked giggle. She threw herself at him, her arms around his neck.

He caught her easily and hugged her back just as tightly.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” he whispered into her hair. “I love you too. So, so much.”

She hugged him tighter, and put her hand in his hair, massaging it.

They stayed like that a few minutes, gently swaying.

Then, Marinette loosened her grip on him to look into his eyes. She slid her hand from his shoulder to his arm to his hand to link her fingers through it, but kept her other one in his hair.

She could almost feel him shivering.

They nodded at each other, knowing what they wanted.

And then their lips met. Softly, lingering but not pushing.

Marinette was aware of everything that was him, that felt him: his hair, that she was still caressing with her hand. His arm around her, with his hand slowly running up and down her back.

His other hand, still tangled with hers, slightly pressing more and more as the kiss went on. It sent waves of shivers throughout her body.

And his lips and breath on hers.

They broke the kiss, giddy smiles on their faces. Marinette grabbed his face then and kissed his nose.

Adrien laughed. “What was that about?”

“I wanted to kiss your kitty nose.”

He snorted. She giggled, and climbed on her tiptoes once more to kiss his laugh.

Once. Twice.

Three times.

He kissed her back each time.

“I’m sorry about this video. It must have put you in a tight spot,” she said after the third kiss.

Adrien whined. “I am the one who’s sorry. I had no idea what to do and I thought you were going to kill me.”

“I thought I was going to kill myself when I saw it,” Marinette exclaimed. “And then Tikki said that at least we’d be happy and dead together!”

Adrien burst out laughing. “I’d rather be happy and alive with you for now, if that’s okay.”

Marinette nodded frantically. “Oh yes me too. It was a good video though. It did help me in the end.”

“Yeah?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah. And from now… I’ll make sure that you know what I feel about you.”

He gave her one of his soft smiles, one of her favourite smiles of his. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

And she sealed it with another kiss.

_____________

Bonus scene:

Adrien watched Marinette out of the corner of his eyes. She was calm, sipping her tea.

But something was wrong. He could feel it.

Maybe it was in the way she was so casually drinking, almost ignoring him. Maybe it was because she still hadn't reacted to the pictures of her, Ladybug her, falling head first in the fountain that Alya had released the previous day—with the bright grand title "Ladybug vs ladybug? It's more likely than you think."

Maybe it was a little bit of both.

Marinette brought her tea one last time to her lips, and put the cup on the desk.

"You feeling good Chaton, uh?" she asked in a calm voice. Calm, but with a tone that either meant "all is good" or "all is wrong".

It was terrifying. He gulped.

"Yes?"

She nodded. "Good."

His right leg was rapidly bouncing up and down in anticipation. Marinette grabbed her phone and tapped a few things on it, before putting it back on the table.

His phone rang.

She was looking at her nails, casually rubbing them with her thumb. Adrien raised a brow and looked at his own phone.

One new message. From Marinette.

A link. And a caption that just said: '😘'

He clicked on it. A tab to the Ladyblog opened.

He felt a wave of dread slowly washing over him as the page loaded.

And suddenly, in bright, grand title was written:

"Five Times Chat Noir Was Scared By A Passing-By Cat, And The One Time He Fell Into The Seine."

#ml fanfic #rated T or G idk #fluff with slight angst #post-reveal pre-relationship #marichat #adrinette #not that it matters anyway fjdhs #alya & marinette friendship #alya & chat noir friendship #mine #myshitwriting #yes they're idiots #what's new here

317 notes · View notes

avengerscompound · 4 years

Text

Until the End of the World - 1

Until the End of the World: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 2429

Rating: E

Warnings: None for chapter. Smut, action, canon typical violence, pregnancy, and HYDRA trying to interfere with said pregnancy for the series.

Synopsis: Four years after Steve and Bucky got to the bottom of the HYDRA conspiracy that had led to you and your son being hunted for the first three years of his life, you, Bucky, and Steve have carved out a nice life together. Things are calm and you feel like a family unit. When Geo starts calling Bucky and Steve ‘dad’, a decision is made to try and add to your family.

Things aren’t as calm as they seem. When your pregnancy hits the papers, HYDRA rears its head once again, and Steve and Bucky need to track you down to protect the family they had created.

Chapter 1

“Okay, Geo, I think you’re either going to love this or hate it,” you said as you strolled through the gates of Cinderella’s Castle.

This holiday had taken a long time to get to. It had been almost four years since Geo had first asked to go to Disney World. You, Bucky, and Steve had been saying you would do it, and making plans and then something would come up and someone would get called out and the plans would have to be reduced to taking him to Coney Island or if he was really lucky a trip out to Westchester to the Legoland Discovery Center which was his favorite.

It was Geo’s seventh birthday and for once neither Steve nor Bucky had been called away on some mission that they absolutely needed for. Tony and Sam had been told under threat of death that they were to only call Steve if it was the end of the world and he was the only possible person who could stop it, and the three of you had taken Geo to Disney World.

Four years was a long time in a world that was as chaotic as Bucky found it, and yet thanks to cleaning up HYDRA and removing all records of either yours or Geo’s existence things had been calm.

Yes, there had been the usual Avengers shit. It was hard and it took a toll on him to keep going out there fighting. It was something he hated, but he did it because it needed to be done. Besides, he had a lot to make up for, so he’d fight until he couldn’t anymore.

The difference was, now at the end of the day, he went home to you, Steve, and Geo. He had been noticing himself relaxing more as each year passed, and more than that, he was enjoying life again and not just existing in a weird limbo where the best he could say was ‘at least they weren’t torturing him anymore’. He loved being a boyfriend and while he would never say the word out loud, he had been thinking of himself as Geo’s dad, and he loved that too.

There had been no further attacks from anyone. No one had ever been spotted watching you or Geo. You weren’t being followed anymore. It seemed to be over. So you had relaxed too. Geo had started school, and he was thriving in it. He was a smart little kid who had been starved for a group of peers, and now he finally had some he was the happiest little kid. He still had some attachment issues, not that Bucky could blame him for that. You don’t grow up with that and not freak-out when your family is gone too long. Still, he was a sweet, excitable little boy, who was now getting a chance to be a normal little boy.

You had gone back to school to get a master’s and Pepper had found you some administrative work that mostly just involved data entry and filing. You were enjoying your studies and the difference in your tension levels compared to the day Bucky had met you was palpable.

Geo held your hand as the four of you made your way around the large carousel in the middle of Fantasy Land. Bucky had never been to a Disney Park. They didn’t exist when he was a kid and even if they had, there was no way his family could have afforded to go. It wasn’t until he was a teenager that Silly Symphonies really came onto his radar and then Snow White was released. Certainly, it didn’t have the pull for a whole amusement park.

It was cute even if it was a little crowded. Tony had suggested getting special VIP treatment so that the four of you would be led through the park in underground tunnels and avoid the crowds. You had worried if that meant that he didn’t get the full experience with the stores, and the parade and shops and people selling balloons in giant bunches. Steve had said they’d try the old fashioned way and try to blend into the crowds. So they were decked out in Disney wear. Steve had bought a t-shirt with Mickey Mouse on it that he’d once again bought a size too small. Not that Bucky was complaining. It hugged the muscles in his shoulders and pulled tight on his arms. On Steve’s head, he had a gray ball cap with Disney World written on it in fat cursive letters. Bucky had a black hoodie with a D on the chest and a ballcap with Star Wars written in all caps. You looked particularly radiant in a red A-line dress with white spots that looked like something women were wearing back when Bucky was in his twenties. You had a black hat on with a big round brim hiding you from the sun and the prying eyes of any strangers.

It was a little overwhelming. There were a lot of people here, and Mainstreet had been bustling. No one had noticed them to the degree that they’d come over to talk, but Bucky had noticed a few glances of confused recognition. The kind people gave him when they knew they recognized him but couldn’t figure out where from.

They’d already stopped quite a few times. Mostly to browse stores, but Geo had stopped to meet Pluto, bought a balloon that had a large clear balloon on the outside, with a smaller green Mickey head shaped balloon inside, and gotten Mickey Mouse shaped pretzel which he still held the remnants of in his free hand.

The aim was to get him to rides with animatronics. He obviously had much more sophisticated technology at home, but he’d been talking about wanting to see the animatronics at Disney since he was three.

You, Bucky, Steve, and Geo each wore a different colored wristband that let you into your hotel room and the park as well as let you fast pass on different rides and charge things to the room. Geo kept lifting his green band to his ear and listening to it, and on a few occasions, he’d put his hand on each of the others like he was talking to them. Last night he’d held them all in his hands and sat quietly running his fingers over them until Steve had said it was time to go to dinner.

Right now they didn’t need the bands. You had been leading the group in the direction of ‘It’s a small world’ and you had insisted that you didn’t need a fast pass for that. Bucky approached the colorful castle facade that acted as the entrance for the ride. You went to lead everyone into the normal line but Geo tugged on your hand. “This one,” he said pointing to the fast pass line.

“We didn’t get fast pass on this one, bud,” Steve attempted to reason but as the words came out of his mouth he seemed to realize what was going on and he sighed. “Geo, did you add fast pass?”

“No,” Geo said. “It just gave it to us. It wants us to have fun.”

Bucky could see Steve trying not to laugh. “It’s not exactly fair that we get skipped ahead on every line.”

“Dad…” Geo whined and stopped, covering his mouth. He’d never called either Bucky or Steve that before and whining in the line at ‘it’s a small world’ appeared not to be where he’d intended to first try it out.

“Geo it’s…” Steve started, but Geo quickly hid behind you.

“We’ll fast pass,” you said quickly trying to defuse the situation. “Then we’ll talk about the fair way to use your powers later.”

Bucky shook himself out of the shock he felt and quickly followed on as you and Geo swiped your wrists over the fast past check-in and went down to the dock. The line was non-existent so you and Geo were guided to the front of the boat and Bucky and Steve to the seat behind.

The song was already getting to him as the ride started and Steve turned to him looking slightly panicked. “He’s never called me that before,” he whispered.

“I know,” Bucky said, taking Steve’s hand. Truthfully, Bucky was a little jealous of Steve getting to hear that first.

“Should I say something, let him know that’s okay?” Steve asked.

“You’re asking me?” Bucky said. “I don’t know. He’s obviously embarrassed he did it. Maybe you should just pretend it didn’t happen.”

Steve frowned and his hand tightened in Bucky’s hand. Bucky wished he had the right thing to say. That he could tell him they should all have a talk and Geo would be open to it and admit he wanted to call them both dad but he wasn’t sure that’s how it would play out.

In front of them, you were rubbing Geo’s back in soothing circles and whispering to him. Bucky tried to hear what you were saying but the sound of the incessantly cheery song drowned out just about everything else.

Bucky really did not like this ride.

It felt like he’d been on it for half his life when Geo started looking agitated. The boy suddenly banged his hand on the front of the boat. “I hate it!” He yelled and all at once the song stopped playing and the animatronic dolls all turned their attention to their boat.

“Geo,” you scolded. “Cut it out.”

“No!” Geo shouted and the boat sped up, almost speeding along the tracks. “I hate it in here!”

“Well, this ride just went from low level creepy to nightmare fuel,” Bucky muttered, making Steve smirk.

When the boat docked Geo scrambled out and you took after him as quickly as you could. “Geo!” You called. “Don’t run off!”

Steve and Bucky followed and Bucky quickly caught up to the boy, picking him up even as he struggled and carrying him away from the ride and off to the side of the path away from people. He put Geo on the ground in front of him and gestured to you and Steve to back off.

“G, what was that? You know running off on your mom is not okay,” Bucky scolded.

Geo shook his head and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hand like he was trying not to cry.

“Buddy, it’s me. Come on,” Bucky said.

“The park wanted me to skip the line,” Geo huffed. “And then I got in trouble. It’s not my fault!”

“You’re not in trouble,” Bucky assured him. “Talk to me, pal.”

“I hated it in there!” Geo said, and broke down into tears. He flopped into Bucky’s arms and Bucky hugged him close.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Bucky soothed. “I didn’t like it either. Maybe we need to figure out ways you can make it through something you don’t like doing.”

“The robots were empty. Tony said it would be cool, but they were empty,” Geo sobbed. “And they freaked me out and the music was horrible.”

“I know,” Bucky agreed. “There will be more fun ones. You like Coney Island right?”

“Yeah…” Geo sniffed.

“Well, there are coasters here too. We can find ones you like,” he said. “I promise.”

Geo pulled back and looked up into Bucky’s eyes. The boy looked so much like you, but he could see things in him that he assumed came from his dad too. “I didn’t mean to call Steve dad,” he whispered. “It just slipped out. Do you think he’ll be mad at me?”

“Oh no, Geo,” Bucky said. “He won’t be mad. You can call either of us dad if you want to. But you don’t have to either. It’s up to you.”

“I know I have a dad, but he died and I never knew him, but you and Steve are like my dads,” Geo reasoned.

“Yeah, we are,” Bucky agreed. “We do all the normal dad things.”

“Like read me stories,” Geo said.

“And make you turn the TV off,” Bucky added.

“You don’t mind?” Geo whispered.

Bucky smiled and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I promise. It’d make me happy. When I talk about you, I say ‘my kid’.”

“Do you?” Geo asked, with a slightly disbelieving look in his eye.

“Yeah. I do,” he said. “And so does Steve.”

Geo seemed to mull this over for a little while and then looked over to where you were standing with Steve. “How will you know who I’m talking to if I call you both dad?”

Bucky chuckled. “Context probably,” Bucky said. “But you could say Dad Steve or Dad Bucky if it’s unclear. Or you could make up your own names for us. Dad and Pop. Papa. Jeez … I dunno. Whatever makes you feel good.”

Geo worried at his bottom lip and then nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. “... dad.”

“Do you want to talk to your mom and Steve about this too?” Bucky said. “Or do you want me to tell them I said no more messing with the rides or you're grounded and then you can just start calling Steve dad and not talk about it.”

“The second one,” Geo said.

“Okay,” Bucky said standing up and holding out his hand. Geo linked his fingers with Bucky’s and they approached you and Steve together.

“I told Geo that if he messes with any more rides he’s grounded,” Bucky explained before either of you had a chance to say anything. “He agreed that that was fair.”

“Okay,” you said, looking a little uncertain. “G, there’s a ride around the corner that’s a haunted house. It has more animatronics, but I think it’s supposed to be really cool. Or we can go ride the teacups. I bet Steve could make them spin super fast.”

“Teacups,” Geo said. “And could I go on the carousel?”

“Yeah, bud, that will be fine,” you said. “Then we’ll see about the time. We have lunch booked.”

Geo held out his free hand to Steve. “Come on, dad.”

Steve smiled and took Geo’s hand and you moved to Bucky’s other side and wrapped your arm around his waist. Bucky slung his arm around your shoulder and the four of you set off in the direction of the carousel. Steve looked at Bucky and grinned. Bucky couldn’t help but smile either. They were a family now, and even though they might not get the wedding, this somehow made it feel that little bit more official.

// NEXT

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #pregnancy #until the end of the world

261 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch20: Bent But Not Yet Broken

Summary: The team are still searching for Katie, but with little luck. Meanwhile, she’s at the mercy of HYDRA…until help comes from a very unlikely place.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, bad language, beatings, smut (via flashbacks), brief descriptions and mentions of rape and torture. Major angst. 18+

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: I’m loving the banner for these three chapters!! And the edits @angrybirdcr

Chapter 19

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Katie awoke alone wherever she was. They had driven her from the place she was taken for hours, right into the night, when she had been dragged out of the back of a van and shoved harshly into what looked like some kind of old factory, down a number of steps so she knew she was underground. They had offered her nothing, no food, or water and she’d simply curled up on the hard bed in the corner of the room and cried until she had fallen asleep.

She had no idea how long she had been there, no idea. There were no windows, just artificial light so she had no way of using the cycle of day and night. Eventually, the lock of the door clicked and she jumped to her feet as the door opened, and the large, burly man who reminded her of Rumlow stepped into her cell. Katie swallowed, but maintained her stance, her eyes locking onto his, jaw jutting up defiantly as he stepped towards her.

“My name is Jones, and I’m in charge of your interrogation.” he sneered.

Still she said nothing.

She was dragged to another room by this Jones, who sat in a chair opposite her with another agent, and asked what she knew about what SHIELD was up to, now it was under the control of Coulson. And then them targeting her made perfect sense, she was the only Avenger that knew he was alive (Ward had no idea she had told Steve) They informed her they knew she had to be working alongside him to track the Sceptre and HYDRA, even though she hadn’t seen him for months.

And once more, she said nothing.

If it wasn’t so serious Katie would have laughed at their stupidity. Dumb fuckers had no idea about anything. She hadn’t given the sceptre a second thought since the Chitauri fight in New York and she certainly didn’t know where it was, or that Coulson had been tracking it.

She continued to say nothing when they drilled her about what she knew as to the whereabouts of Bucky, the ‘Asset’ or ‘Soldat’ as they referred to him. At that point, she had looked directly at the idiot who had been asking the questions wondering if he was born this stupid or if he suffered some kind of brain injury later in life, because only an idiot could possibly think that if the Avengers knew where he was that they would let HYDRA get their hands on him again. Unable to hold it in anymore, she’d laughed and simply shook her head.

They stuck pins under her nails for that one, but still she hadn’t broken. Although it fucking hurt, like nothing had hurt before. She’d been unable to stop the tears of pain falling down her cheeks, but she made no noise as she trembled through the ordeal. Instead she tried to remember her training, allowing her mind to focus out, concentrate on something else, something nice. Something safe…

“Miss Stark?” JARVIS inquired again. Katie gave an exasperated sigh. Her alarm hadn’t gone off and it had been Steve that had awoken her half hour later than she wanted when his alarm went off. Now she was running, running way behind. She hadn’t even had chance to do her make up. Thankfully, at Steve’s insistence she had packed the night before. "Yes J?” “Mr. Stark has informed me that he’s begun to slowly pour out your coffee. If you don’t hurry, there won’t be any left.” She rolled her eyes, shoved her make up punch in the bag she was taking with her- plenty of time to do it on the way. The flight would be a few hours. She grabbed her bag, headed into the hallway and Steve walked out of the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. “I gotta go baby I’m sooo late.” She sighed “Tony will be having a fit.” Steve chuckled and quickly scanned her up and down.

“Nice suit.”

She glanced down at her black pinstriped jacket, trousers and a simple light blue button down.

“You making funna me?” she teased.

He shook his head “Not at all. You’re gorgeous as ever.” “Charmer.” she grinned as he leaned down to give her a quick kiss before she turned on her heels. “Love you.” She tossed over her shoulder. “You too” he smiled “See you later.”

She clung to that memory. The last time she had seen Steve. His soft kiss, his hair wet from his shower, that grey Underarmour shirt clinging to his form. And eventually when they realised that there was nothing she was going to say, they stopped and returned her to her cell leaving her alone once more.

Katie wasn’t stupid enough not to understand that there was an element of revenge in all of this too. Revenge on her, and Steve, at the fact they had been a key part of bringing Hydra to the broken, shattered organisation it now was. And as she sat there alone, nursing her sore fingers, she could do nothing but wish they had killed every, last one of the fuckers.

As time ticked by the interrogations continued. She had her fingernails dug up with pins, she was water-boarded, strangled to the point of passing out, and it was always the same. They’d push her, she’d continue to fight, and then then they would stop. They’d leave her for another stretch of time in that room, feeding her whatever meagre morsels they decided upon, deliberately weakening her system, and would come at her again.

But, the thing with being in Solitary confinement is that you have a lot of time to think. And think she did, whilst she nursed her various injuries. As such Katie had a pretty good idea now why they were so bothered about Coulson and SHIELD tracking the sceptre. There had been records of it in any of the files dumped on the internet when they had released SHIELD and HYDRA’s secrets to the world but she suspected it was in HYDRA’s possession and had been from the start, taken by Sitwell and STRIKE from the tower once they had defeated Loki. She further surmised, that it had been taken to the specialist department, STATION just like the rest of the Chitauri shit that they had recovered. Which meant that Strucker must have it. And they were worried for some reason that SHIELD were coming for it.

And then one day, they swiftly changed tact.

“All you need to do is tell me what the Avengers and SHIELD are planning next and you’ll be free to go.” Jones said, looking at her as she stood in her cell.

Katie snorted, because really? Did they think she was that stupid? She knew he was full of shit, he had no intention of releasing her. Even if she did or could cooperate, she’d be dead when they had what then needed. At least this way, whilst they thought she knew something, they would keep her alive. And the longer she was alive, the more chance the team had of finding her

Her snort earned her a sharp punch to the face which caused her to tall to the floor, where she received a harsh kick in the ribs, leaving her winded before he turned on his heels and left. Groaning, she pulled herself up over to her bed and lay on her side, wiping at the blood and tears on her face.

More time went by, and then she was pulled back out and dragged to the familiar, clinically white room they like to ‘interrogate her in’. This time they threatened to go back and find Tony, Steve, the rest of her friends and family, and kill them all. But this time she didn’t snort, she full on laughed, because the thought of them trying to get into the tower and meeting Earth’s Mightiest Heroes was hilarious. And the laughter just wouldn’t stop.

That was until she got a back hander across the face and another punch in the ribs.

But the next time they try something else, they almost break her. Almost.

They came for her in her cell and first off they took her rings. They’d already taken her necklace and her bracelet but they’d left these with her for some reason. But now, they wanted them. First off they went for the sparkling diamond on her left hand. She should just have let them have it, but she couldn’t. It’s her’s, her ‘big, fuck off Tiffany diamond’, her princess cut engagement ring that she had always dreamed of. So she tried to fight, and screamed when she felt and heard her fingers snap as Jones stamped on her hand. When they went for the emerald on her right, she was too caught up with the pain in her left to fight for that one. This time they were the ones laughing at her, laughing at her pain as she held her bust hand close and choked on deep sobs.

And then Jones did something far more humiliating and degrading and forced himself on her. She put up as good a fight as she could, considering the state her hand was in, but someone else grabbed her painful fingers and pinned her arms above her head, sniggering, calling her a “SHIELD slut…” The pain of him inside her was excruciating, but as she opened her mouth to scream at him, she looked in his face and knew that was what the bastard wanted. So instead she turned her head to the side and screwed her eyes shut. Trying to block it all out.

When he had finished his grunting and smashing into her, he passed her over to the man who had been pinning her arms above her head but by now she was emotionally dead. When he finished, she lay still for a moment before she heard footsteps and Jones crouched down besides her, holding her diamond ring between his thumb and fingers.

“You know…” He leered at her as she backed away, grabbing at her trousers and shakily pulling them up as she rose from the ground “I bet this is worth a pretty packet. You’d think that giving you a rock like that would mean he cares but where is he, huh? The Star Spangled Man doesn’t seem to have a plan at the moment.”

And then, despite the pain, despite the fact he has just violated her, she laughed again because, you know ‘Star Spangled Man with a Plan…’ and those ridiculous videos and that spandex…

In hindsight it probably wasn’t the brightest thing to do. Jones snapped and he unloaded on her, again, only this time it was savage. He lost his temper, and she would normally be slightly proud but she had no time to be as she was pushed into walls, punched, kicked, stomped on. She tried to fight back, and normally she would and could put up a decent battle against anyone, she’s an Avenger, but being weak from lack of decent food, lack of sleep, and the various injuries she’s already sustained plus the violent assault she had just taken had all left her weak. And then the other one joined in. As they punched and kicked away she could hear faint voice echoing in her ringing ears, a brush of a thumb across her cheek, the warmth of a palm against her face.

“God I love you, Doll…” Steve looks down at her as he lies over her gently, both of them slightly breathless, sheets tangled around her legs.

She staggered to her feet and then her nose was smashed by a fist. Once more she was transported to another place, a mission, from way before her and Steve started dating, one where she caught an elbow to the face by some dickhead who had taken a Diplomat’s daughter hostage…

“It’s broken,” she says, matter of factly, as her Captain’s hand gently reaches up, thumb and forefinger carefully tilting her head so he can see her face.

He gives her a pained smile. “Yeah, looks like.” whilst he gently hands her an ice pack before standing up, and dropping a hand to the top of her head.

Katie was tossed around that room like Loki was by the Hulk. Oh wouldn’t it be great if Banner appeared now, Hulked out and ripped the place apart. Or Thor, lighting all these fuckers up. Or Widow for that matter, delivering them one of those delectable shocks. Or Clint, placing arrows between their eyes. Or Tony dispatching of them with whatever weapon he chooses. Or Steve, using his shield to break their bones and faces…

But no one came.

Jones glanced down at her “This is your own fault.” His boot swiftly collided with her midriff one last time. “One way or another, I will get something out of you. Maybe you’ll speak when we take you up to see a couple of my special friends… they’re good at making people comply.”

And they left her, a bleeding, battered mess on the floor.

Eventually she mustered the strength to crawl to the bed at the side of the room, hauling herself up onto the bare mattress. - they’d taken every little bit of comfort from her including the blankets and her warmer outer clothing and shoes leaving her merely in her blouse and her trousers, both filthy and covered in blood.

Everything hurt. Everywhere. Physically and mentally. And she was tired. From lack of sleep. The lights were kept on blindingly light all the time and she was craving the darkness of her bedroom in the tower.

How long was it since she’d been in her own bed? Certainly longer than days but was it weeks? Months? One second of time simply melted into the next in this place. The sobs wracked her painful chest as she let out the first word she had spoken since she had arrived, God knows how long ago, a single gasp of his name.

“Stevie…”

******

“Errr, do you have an appointment!” Katie grinned as Steve walked into her office, shutting the door behind him.

“Do I need one?” he asked she turned round from where she had been stood looking in a filing cabinet.

“Distractions always need an appointment.” “Is that what I am?” he pouted.

“When you come in here dressed like that, yes.” she said, pointing up and down taking in his jeans and grey top “That T-shirt is ridiculously tight, and your ass looks great in those jeans.

"It’s all yours, baby.” He grinned, hands sliding to her hips as hers slid up round his neck. “Can you spare your distraction enough time for lunch?” Katie let out a groan “I can’t, I’ve got a working lunch today as we’re looking over a proposal we got in from another publishers. I could probably grab a coffee though, I got like 20 minutes.”

“20 minutes?” Steve asked, arching an eyebrow and Katie immediately grinned as his eyes dropped to her lips.

“What are you suggesting Captain Bad Ass?” “Nothing” he said, innocently. Before he smirked “Does the door lock?”

“J…” Katie spoke, not taking her eyes of his “Do me a favour and lock down my office for half an hour, full black-out.” “Certainly Miss Stark.”

The door locks clicked, the blinds into the main office area closed, and Katie looked up to check the CCTV cameras were also down too. “That doesn’t make it sound proof though, just so you know…” she said.

Steve smirked and then kissed her hard, pulling her to him, one hand on her back the other tangled in her hair before he reached down, sliding his hands up and under her skirt sliding the grey material up over her thighs.

“I’m not gonna lie…”he murmured, lifting her up onto the desk so she was sat in front of him “Seeing you in these office skirts and tops… its kinda hot.”

She smirked into his kiss as she tugged at the material of his t-shirt until he raised his arms so she could pull it up, over his head and off. She was groping his bare chest as he pressed against her, rubbing her spot with his still covered crotch. She moaned at the rough denim of his jeans pushing against her, the thin barrier of her underwear doing nothing to stop the sensation.

"Tease.” she growled into his mouth before reaching down to unbuckle his pants and Steve grinned before sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth when she reached in and grasped him in her hand. His hands started opening the buttons of her blouse then once they were open he gently reached into the cups of her bra, pulling her breasts out, dipping his head down to suck at one of her nipples, his hand drifting back downwards to tug at her underwear. She moaned and shifted so he could pull them down her legs.

As he followed them down, dropping to his knees, he took an ankle into his hand pulling her foot up.

“These stay on.” He instructed referring to her heels and she nodded biting her lip as he threw her leg over his shoulder exposing her completely. She grappled for grip on the sleek, wooden desk, settling for one hand curling round the edge, the other finding its place back in his hair as he gave one long perfect lick, listening to her soft groans. He worked her with his mouth and her head tipped back, a constant stream of soft moans escaping her lips. He drove her right to the edge, his mouth and tongue knew how to play her perfectly now, and when he could tell she was close he rose gracefully and gently pushed her back, wrapping her legs round his waist so he was supporting her hips with his, and he pushed into her in one easy thrust.

“Jesus…” he shuddered, as he bent over to gently kiss her, his hands on her hips as he continued to thrust in and out. Fuck, this was hot. Papers, pens, staplers went flying off the desk as he pushed harder and harder, his name tumbling from her lips, “Stevie…” pure pleasure and ecstasy, and lust,and desire.

“Stevie!” This time his name was a shout, filled with terror, and fear, and pain, and it vibrated through him, painfully.

With his own yell, Steve sat bolt upright, before falling off the couch with a crash. Shaking his head, taking a deep breath he blinked his tired eyes and the room in front of him came slowly into focus. His eyes fell on a picture of the two of them in a frame sitting on one of the shelves by the TV. Both of them smiling as they stood in jackets, scarves and hats in the snow in Central Park, arms round one another. There are more of them together, and with their friends and family. Tearing his eyes away he looked around and spotted the pair of her shoes that had been kicked off by the door the last time she had walked through it, some 4 weeks ago, shoes that he couldn’t bring himself to move.

How the fuck had he fallen asleep? He jumped suddenly and looks frantically around him for his phone, it was in his pocket. There could be news, someone may have called, but he knows deep down that’s not true. They had no leads, every single but of intel they had had led them to nothing but dead ends. But he looked at it anyway and saw nothing. Nothing but her eyes and her smile peering back at him from the photo on his lock screen, along with the time and date, a reminder of just how long she’s been gone.

Steve took a deep breath and when he exhaled it came out in a deep, pitiful sob.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, his breath and voice catching as he curled up, leaning back against the sofa, his arms hugging his knees to his chest “I’m sorry, so sorry sweetheart, we’re trying, I’m trying, I’m so sorry…”

******

Steve couldn’t decide if time was moving too slow or too fast. The weeks without her were flashing by his eyes but the days and the nights felt like they lasted forever. He couldn’t understand how it was only 3 in the afternoon, mind you, having said that, the days and nights all blurred into one. He wasn’t sleeping properly after all. His nightmares were frequent, only now it wasn’t the ice or Bucky he saw. It was her, crying, screaming for help and him not being able to do anything about it.

Pouring himself what felt like his 17th coffee of the day he turned to see Sam walking into the room. Steve nodded to him.

“Cap, I know this isn’t top of your priority list but…” Sam turned to check they were alone before he carried on “I had a call today from one of my contacts. They have a potential sighing of Ol’ Frosty.” Despite himself Steve picks up, interested “Where.”

“Canadian Border, Montana. Mean anything?”

Steve shook his head “Is there a Hydra base nearby?”

“Not that we know of. I can take a look?” Steve nodded. “Thanks Sam.”

Sam took a deep breath. The man looked utterly broken, but he wasn’t surprised. Katie had been gone for 5 weeks and they had nothing. They were now taking a deep dive into old intel, the information they had recovered from the bases they had raided and re-raided. She wasn’t at any of them, but then they hadn’t expected her to be. Hydra were too smart for that

The pair of them wheeled round when suddenly Clint appeared in the door way “Cap… Coulson is here, says he has news.”

“Thanks.” Steve said,

Oh he had news alright. The location of another Hydra base that no one knew about, one they had dug up on the seemingly never ending search for that fucking sceptre. It was a small military outpost just outside of Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. Coulson had dispatched a team to do some recon, and they had spoken to locals who had informed them that the base had been empty with no one seen or heard entering for years.

“Until 5 weeks ago.” Coulson said, looking around at them from his seat at the table “According to a man out walking his dog, an SUV came straight down the road and into the gates, locking them behind him. A load of men in suits climbed out, so he assumed they were government. Since then Mr Dog Walker has seen armed guards on the gate each day. So they brought something there, we just don’t know what,“

“5 weeks…” Natasha breathed out “That’s too much of a coincidence!”

“Yeah, so I had my team sweep the base immediately…” Coulson sighed, as he looked around the room “There was no one there, but they did find evidence that Katie was there at some point.”

Steve turned his head away and stood up sharply, walking to the edge of the room, looking out into the hallway.

“What kind of evidence?” Tony asked, his voice cracking.

Coulson hesitated before he pushed the plastic bag across the table and Steve walked back as Tony tipped the contents out onto the table.

Her StarkPhone, in 2 pieces, clearly done to avoid them tracing her, the Captain America shield design that Tony had engraved on the back for a joke blinked in the light like it was mocking them. Her diamond star pendant that Steve bought her for Christmas and the bracelet he had brought her for her birthday, clasps broken on both as if they had been ripped off. But it was the flash of yellow, green and silver and diamond that made Steve’s heart stop. Her rings. Bright platinum and yellow gold. Sparkling diamond, deep green emerald.

There’s no way she would have given those up without a fight…

Tony pushed himself away from the table, a sob catching in his throat whilst Steve reached out to gently pick up his girl’s rings. He could hardly make them out now, the tears in his own eyes blurred his vision. He closed his palm around them, and walked out of the room, but not before he gave a loud, angry yet broken cry and his fist punched straight through the re-enforced glass in one of the windows that looked out into the corridor.

He headed up to the roof, he’d been coming here a lot recently. Good way to get some peace, away from everything. Except he was never away, because she was with him, in his head, every damned movement he made. He glanced across the skyline, his eyes falling on Central Park. The leaves on some of the trees already a bright mixture of reds, golds and oranges. Fall was his favourite time of year, he loved the colours. It was an artist’s dream. Not Katie’s though. Oh no.

“She hates this time of year.” Steve said simply as he looked out over the New York Skyline, not turning to look at Tony as he drew up beside him.

“Everything dies and it’s a bit shit.” Tony mumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets as he uttered the words Katie uses to describe Autumn. Steve knew what he was saying, but the pair of them couldn’t help but inhale at the sentiments of the word.

"Sorry… “ Tony sighed, “I just…” he trailed off, shrugging.

Steve shrugged also as he turned to look at the man besides him, lips curling into a despondent sort of smile. “I know…”

The two men stood in silence before a short, despairing chuckle burst from Steve . “You know, this time last year she made a pie,” he shook his head “I was teasing her about being miserable it was Autumn and she said the only thing decent about it is you can make apple pie. And I told her she was ridiculous, as surely apple pie can be made any time of year…” “That’s my mom” Tony said, smiling and he gave a small huff of laughter “Mom always used to make pies autumn through winter but never any other time of year…”

“I didn’t even wait for it to cool.” Steve chuckled. “As soon as it came out of the oven there was a scoop of ice cream on it and I was digging in. She stabbed me with a fork”

Tony snorted “Sounds about right.”

“It was the best fucking apple pie I’ve eaten.” Steve sniffed. “Damned it..” his voice cracked “ I’d give anything to have her here to make another…”

Tony glanced up at the soldier, the tears evident in his eyes.

“Katie told me she thinks you’re the strongest person she’s ever known,” he breathed out. “Learning to live and start again in a world that has continually done nothing but beat you down… “

“I don’t feel strong now.” Steve whispered, turning to face Tony.

“You have to be.” Tony said “We all do, that’s the only way we’re gonna find her.” Even in the dim light, through his own tears, Tony could see the grief on Steve’s face. There was utter desperation and sadness in his blue eyes, the tears now shining as they fell down his cheeks. The Captain released a long, shuddering breath before wiping at his face stating simply, “I don’t know how to be strong without her Tony.”

“She makes me better too.” Tony said, his own eyes now spilling with tears, “And for that reason alone we have to find her. And we have to bring her home.” his eyes turn back to the city which is now starting to light up as the sun begins to dips behind the horizon “And then she can make a damned pie.”

*****

He parked the truck at the end of the long drive, hiding it between two trees and then climbed out, the smells, the sounds of the wind, everything was familiar, but it was clear, sharp, as if he wasn’t experiencing it all through a veil of fog.

This was the last place on his list. He had by no way, shape or form eliminated everyone that had been involved in his programming, but he’d taken the main ones he remembered. And there was one left. A Doctor. A Doctor that had been sadistic. A Doctor that had been sadistic and enjoyed what he did, experimenting on him, on others. He wasn’t sure if he had been the type of person to seek revenge before they had done this to him and he didn’t really care either, and besides, it wasn’t just revenge…it was closure. After this one was dead, that was it. He was going to lay low, try and make sense of these whirring memories that came back to him in a jumble. Sometimes he could make sense of them, and some of them were stronger than others, like the ones of him in the war. He could remember the missions mainly. And then some of them from before were hazier, a short, skinny, sickly blond haired boy. Punk…

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” He knew the boy was Steve. Captain America leader of the Commandos. He remembered Steve but he didn’t feel that he knew him. But he understood that he should, the display at the Smithsonian had told him that.

Best friends since childhood.

The longer he stayed out of Hydra’s grasp the more his mind was his own, and it was only a matter of time, he hoped, till he did remember. But until then, he needed to slip away. Be a ghost story once more.

One more…

Picking the gun up off the passenger seat he zipped up his jacket and made his way towards the facility, making sure he kept to the cover of the expanse of forest and open green space that surrounded it. Of course it would be in the fuck end of nowhere. No one to hear the screams. He easily dispatched the guards at the gate, and the 4 that then rush out to greet him are no match for him. That’s one upside to this entire situation, he can fight. And fight better than he ever could

“Pick on someone your own size…” He swiftly boots the guy right up the ass and down the alley.

“You know, sometimes I think you like getting punched.” He turns to the small, blonde man standing up, dusting himself off.

“I had him on the ropes.” By the time he made his way inside he can hear the alarm going, and he smirked to himself slightly. Like it matters. Anyone who tried to stop him was dealt with, anyone who simply ran away, well he wasn’t here for them. They could go. He navigated the clinical corridor easily, by memory or instinct he doesn’t know but he eventually found the room. Something stopped him for a second, and a rush of vivid and loud memories flashed in front of his eyes.

“Soldat!” the voice is loud, almost a bark. “Hold out your arm.” He holds out his metal arm.

“The other one.” He does as he is told, and grits his teeth as the scalpel slices into him and they cut a chunk of his flesh away.

“Take that to my lab.” the voice says “I want to run some tests on his healing qualities, isolate the properties…keep him here, I can study his recover too…” With blood dripping down his arm, they take him back to his room, his cell at the other end of the facility, without even giving him a bandage.

With a low growl he kicked the door open and the man in the chair looked up at him, his eyes growing wide in fear.

“Soldat-”

The Doctor was cut off when a large boot kicked him hard in the chest, causing him to topple over backwards, the chair crashing to the floor. In one stride he was over him, gun levelled at his head.

“My name is Bucky.” He stated simply before he discharged his gun straight between the fucker’s eyes.

It’s done. It’s finished.

Turning on his heels he walked out of the room and aimed a punch to the man that launched at him from the right, sending him down easily. He then saw the flash of a gun as it went off, easily dodging the shot. He turned and fired one of his own, straight into the bastard’s knee cap and he collapsed. His path was now clear and he was about to leave, but then he heard it.

A jumbled scream of names, but it was the tone that set his nerves on edge. It was broken, the scream of someone desperate, someone that wasn’t here of their own accord. It was heart-wrenching, pitiful…and it was female

Automatically he spun and headed towards it.

*****

Katie had no idea when she last ate, it was certainly before they moved her here to this new place anyway. She didn’t trust them not to poison her, so at some point she stopped eating completely. She still refused to talk, and seeing as she knew they wanted her to scream, to shout in pain, to verify that what they are doing to her hurt, she also learned to stop crying out.

They wanted her to break. They continued to violate her, seemingly visiting her to get their fill whenever the ‘mood’ took them, but she held tight, tight to her memories, thoughts, trust in her fiancé, brother, her Avengers family to find her, tight to her desperate hope, and above all else, tight to that Stark pig-headed stubbornness.

She will NOT break. She will not give these fuckers anything. And if that means she dies, so be it.

As she lay on her bed, weak, her stomach churning from the bruises and hunger, there was a shrill noise in her ears, probably from the beating she took yesterday, but the more she tried to focus, the louder it became. And then she heard voices, yells.

The sound of gunfire made her sit up, fast, a little too fast and she cried out in pain as her body protested to the movement, but now she understood, the shrill noise was an alarm.

“He’s in the main lab…” She heard someone yelling.

And then Jones’ voice replied, he was getting closer as he spoke, she could tell “I’ll get the bitch, we need to move”.

Someone was here, and whoever it was wasn’t Hydra. And Katie let out a sob. It was them, it had to be, they’d come for her.

The door to her cell flung open and Jones ran in to grab her arm.

“Time to go…” As he grabbed her arm and dragged her off the bed she screamed. As loud as she could. She screamed for Steve, then Tony, then Thor, Natasha, Clint…her voice cracking and croaky from lack of use, yelling the first words she’d spoken in his presence since they’d taken her.

She wasn’t staying quiet this time, not now rescue was so close by.

“Oh, now you talk…” Jones gave her a quick slap which left her dazed but, as he dragged her to the door he stopped dead halfway across the room. Katie looked up, struggling to focus and she could just make out a tall figure, blocking the way. For a moment she thought it was Steve, but then she realised he wasn’t tall enough. And the way he held himself was all wrong. Then she noticed his hair, and as he strode into the cell, murderous intent oozing from every part of his body, her eyes started to focus and she saw his face from under the peak of his cap, that haunted stare she remembered from the riverbank.

“Bucky.” Her voice was nothing but a whisper.

Bucky tilted his head, surveying her, but he didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, his eyes moved to Jones, and they suddenly lit with a furious fire and he stepped forward again.

Jones pushed Katie hard towards him. She fell again, and Bucky gently caught her, setting her quickly to one side as he grabbed Jones who was making a break for it towards the door. He gripped the man in his metal left arm, which was covered by a black leather jacket and glove, round the throat and squeezed, hard. The man’s bones and sinew and tissue crunched and squashed in his grip and he fell limp.

I don’t like men hitting women, you fucker.

Bucky tossed Jones to the floor and Katie tried to push herself up from where she had fallen with her hands, but it hurt so much. Her broken one gave way and she lurched forward, bracing herself for the impact as she was about to fall flat on her face but the blow never came. Instead, a strong arm wrapped around her from behind and she was gently pulled back into a sitting position, as she fought to keep her sobs and cries under control. She looked up, following Bucky’s movement as he crouched down in front of her. She looked up at him, and managed a small smile.

“Thank you Bucky.”

Bucky swallowed, she knew him? How? How did she know who he really was? He continued to look into her eyes, green and dull, sunken into a face that is spattered with bruises, died blood, cuts and angry red marks and then he recognised her, from that day on the river bank.

The day he dragged Captain America, Steve, out of the Potomac.

“I’m Katie. Steve’s Girlfriend. You know Steve, right?”

What Hydra were doing with Steve’s girlfriend in this god-forsaken shithole he had no idea. But he also knew that he couldn’t leave her here.

“Can you stand?” He asked softly.

“I don’t know…” she choked out, her voice croaky. He decided it would be easier, and kinder to carry her. Removing his jacket and placing it round her shoulders, because it was cold outside and all she was wearing was a dirty blouse and trousers, no shoes or socks. He gently placed his metal arm round her back and his right under her knees, lifting her effortlessly up into his arms. She let out a small sob and a cry of pain as the movement jostled her slightly.

“Sorry.” He appologised gruffly, as she placed her arms round his neck for support and leaned into his warmth, the first kind and friendly touch she had felt in so damned long. Instinctively, she buried her face into his chest as he carried her, unable to believe that she was finally safe.

It wasn’t Steve, but at the moment she would have taken anyone.

Quickly Bucky made his way back through the base, up a short flight of stairs she had absolutely no recollection of coming down when she was brought here, and they emerged into the fresh air. The wind hit her face and stung her cheeks and she pressed her face harder into his chest, whimpering at the assault on her senses. Eventually, when she felt she had gotten control of herself she gently moved, ignoring the pain, to have a look around. The leaves on the trees around them were now sporting orange leaves, some having shed a few already.

It had been the 1st of September when she had been taken.

“Do you know the date?” she throatily asked as Bucky carried her gently but quickly towards a truck which was parked haphazardly in between 3 of the trees in a clearing set back from the road. How fucking long had they had her?

“10th October.” he replied

She gave another little sob as she did the maths in her head “6 weeks. 6 fucking weeks.”

“Try 70 years sweetheart” Bucky mumbled back, and his sarcasm made her snort a little laugh, and she instantly winced at the pain in her chest.

He gently helped her into the truck, laying her across her across the back seats, before he jumped in the driver’s side and gave a quick look around before he set off.

Katie pulled the jacket tighter around her and gave another loud sob, then the tears started, and she couldn’t stop.

“You’re safe.” Bucky cast a glance over his shoulder. “I won’t hurt you.” “I know.” He looked at her again, as she lay down, before she started to cough. Tilting onto her side, she tried to stop herself as it was painful, fire shooting across her stomach, up her side, her ribs…her hand…everything.

“You need a hospital.” he said.

“No.” she shook her head

“You need medical attention”

“I can…”she took a deep breath, fighting the pain “Home. I’ll be safer with Steve and my brother.” Steve. Bucky swallowed thickly. “Where’s home?” he asked.

“Manhattan.” “I can’t go to Manhattan” he said, shaking his head.

“Yes you can.” she grimaced “Steve…he’ll help.” “I can’t go to Manhattan” he repeated. She didn’t respond and when he glanced back he saw she’d passed out, or was sleeping, he doesn’t know. He took a deep breath and for a split second toyed with ignoring her request and driving her to the nearest ER, but he understood her fear only too well. If Hydra took her, there’s a chance they’ll come back for her and she was right. Steve could keep her safe.

So he drove into the nearest Police Station, parked the truck outside leaving the engine and the heaters running, to keep her warm and with his baseball cap pulled as far down over his face, grabbed his rucksack. He hid behind a dumpster, not far away, keeping the car in sight. It didn’t take long until someone came out of the police station and walked over to the vehicle to investigate. Bucky saw the man peer inside before he gave a yell, and yanked open the back door. Bucky took a deep breath, and with one last look over his shoulder he headed off into the cold October wind.

******

“Miss…” a voice was stirring Katie. It was a soft voice, not the harsh one she was used to dealing with. And she was warm, she could smell leather. A bit like Steve’s jacket, but not, because it didn’t smell like him. Blinking she saw someone leaning over her and she instinctively tried to back up, but she hit something metal. Taking a moment she realised she was in a car. And then she remembered Bucky. Bucky had killed Jones and freed her.

“Where…” she began and the large man spoke softly

“You’re in La Ronge…at the local police station.” he said, gently.

She glanced up, wary. “How do I know you’re not Hydra…” “Hydra?” he frowned and she took in his appearance. He was in a uniform, and he was flanked by other officers in a uniform.

“We’ve called an ambulance…” he began. “No!” She immediately yelled. “I need to go home…” “Ma’am…” “No. Hospital.” she growled, trying to sit up. “It isn’t safe. I need…” she took a deep breath “Can you call home, my fiancé, my brother, anyone…” “Where’s home ma’am.” “Avengers Tower.” she said, taking a deep breath. The man’s eyes grew wide as he looked at her, “You’re…oh my God, you’re Katie Stark…”

She nodded.

He leaned back out to one of the other officers and said something before leaning back into the car.

“There’s been a lot of people looking for you Miss Stark.” he said kindly “We’ll get someone on to your Brother right away. In the mean-time, we need to get you inside.”

She nodded and pushed herself up, gritting her teeth, trying to fight how much pain she was in. With a bit of a struggle and help she managed to shuffle herself out of the car. She steadied herself against it, whilst the officer looked at her and then gently moved towards her. Instinctively she shrunk back and he held his hands up.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I just thought you might need a hand walking.”

She did need a hand. After scrutinizing him for another second, she nodded and he gently scooped her up, causing her to hiss, and he took her inside. She was gently carried through the back of the station and into a warm, gently lit medical room of some sorts where she was set down on a soft medical bench.

“No hospital” she said again, feeling her eyes going droopy again.

“I promise.” the man nodded. “But we do have an on duty medic…maybe she could clean you up a little, and we can find you some clothes.” That sounded ok, and she nodded again, before the blackness took her once more

******

Steve couldn’t run. Not properly. He needed to be in the tower just in case. Not to mention the barrage of press camped on the doorstep since he had relented and told Tony to go public a few days back. And he hated the treadmill, seemed pointless, if he was running he actually wanted to get somewhere. So instead he took his frustration out on the punch bag. Every blow he landed was one for the fuckers that had taken his girl. He lost count of how many of the things he tore open but thankfully there seemed to be an endless supply, and someone to clear up the mess he left afterwards. Including the blood on the floor from his split knuckle as he had stopped bandaging his hands. The pain was twistedly comforting, something to actually feel when the rest of him was numb. "Trouble sleeping?”

He turned and saw her leaning in the doorway, wearing a pair of tight lycra leggings and a crop top that finished halfway down her perfect midriff and a cheeky grin as she took a drag from the water bottle in her hand.

He gave a laugh, as he caught the punch bag.

“At half 4 in the afternoon?” He quipped back as she crossed the room towards him. He noticed her skin was gleaming with sweat “you been training?”

“Sparring with Nat… she was an absolute bitch” Katie said, taking a drink from her water bottle “she needs to get laid then she might stop taking it out on me.”

“Or maybe you need to learn to punch better” he teased.

“Can you get divorced before you get married?” she said through narrowed eyes making him laugh. “I can punch just fine thanks”

“Show me whatcha got then” he nodded towards the punch bag. Taking another drink from her bottle she tossed it aside and shoved him in the chest, making him laugh again, stepping back as she passed. He watched as she took up her stance, feet slightly apart, arms raised, and she gave the bag a sharp jab with her right and it swung back away from her.

“Not bad…” he grinned, moving towards her. ”But if you tilt your hips…“ his hands fell to her waist and he moved her slightly "this way… legs slightly further…” he used his feet to nudge hers “this way and arms…” both his hands wrapped round her wrists, the light catching her ring on her left hand “little less high…” he used his arms to guide hers and swung and the bag sending it flying.

She dropped her arms and brought them around her front, taking his with them. “Admit it…” she said, her voice husky “my stance was fine you just wanted to touch me.”

“You have a very high opinion of yourself, or a very low opinion of me.” He said, his body stooping so his chin rest in her shoulder.

“No, I just know you too well Captain Sex Fiend…” she said, turning her head to face him, her lips brushing his.

He’d pushed her backwards, and took her hard and fast against the wooden clad walls of the gym, bodies slick and working together the way they always did. Her hands were in his hair, clawing at his back and it had left them both far more flushed than any other physical exercise ever did…. With one final punch as the memory faded Steve gave a cry of anger, frustration, grief, he had no idea what he was feeling, maybe all 3, but he knocked the damn thing straight off the chain anyway. “Captain Rogers…” JARVIS suddenly spoke. “Yeah.” He responded, his voice croaky from unshed tears. “Mr Stark has asked that you meet him immediately in the hanger. There has been a development regarding Miss Stark” Steve didn’t respond, he grabbed his dark, red hoody and sprinted out of the door.

“She’s been found.” Tony said, wheeling round to look at him as he ran up the ramp to the jet, not waiting for him to speak. “In the back of a stolen car that was abandoned outside a station in La Ronge.“

“Is she…” he choked out, and Tony gave a small smile and a sniff.

“She’s alive. But she’s not in great shape, and she’s refusing to go to hospital, told them to call us instead.”

Steve’s hands flying up to cover his face and they slid into his hair as he dropped into the seat behind Tony, the relief washing all over his body. Tony began to flip the switches, firing up the jet, at the same time as Bruce walked on board.

“We got something?” He looked at the two men.

“Yeah..” Tony said “Some police station in La Ronge called. They have her, but she’s…she’s not in a good way so we need…” He gestured to Bruce and pointed to one of the seats.

Bruce let out a deep breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “That’s great…that’s she’s been found…”

“Jarvis, you got that flight plan?” Tony asked.

“Yes Sir, you are expected at the air field, some 15 miles from the station. The Sergeant who called will meet you there. ETA 3pm”

Tony turned to Steve as the jet began to rise, the soldier was looking down at his hands, breathing deeply. He was a jumble of emotions, relief she was ok, worried about what state she was in, angry at who had done this to her. He was jerked out of his thoughts by Tony who gently clamped him on the shoulder.

Blue eyes met dark brown, both shimmering with tears. “Let’s go get our girl” Tony smiled softly.

**** Chapter 21

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

63 notes · View notes

siswritesyanderes · 4 years

Note

ooh! now that you've begun in dabbling in some s p i c i e r stuff (love it!!!) what would you think about Tom finding a familiar soul in the orphanage, if you want to make it real spicy, sister perhaps (continuing the habit of inbreeding in the family without conditioning; nice!) and him deciding that it would be only right, even though his sister is not a slytherin, to make her rule by his side- j-just to keep him in line, and continue the great line of slytherin! love your work :)))

Okay. Let’s do this. Ooh boy.

(N S F W) (TW: non-con) (TW: incest)

She was like him. She was, in fact, the only one like him in the entire world. It had seemed so, at least, when they were children.

She didn’t have his harsh temperament, or his impatience, but she had the same unsettlingly intelligent gaze and, most importantly, she could do the same sorts of things that he could. She made things move (most usually, books to her hand, especially if one of the other orphans had tried to take said book from her), she had made her hair grow back when a bully had cut it off (but not before Tom punished the other child for the mistake), and she could talk to snakes.

Even apart from her powers, they were very alike. They were quiet, and didn’t socialize much, and had a tendency to scowl. They spent all of their time together, and so that had developed rather identical mannerisms and turns of phrase.

It was tact that made her different; for some reason he could not hope to understand, his twin sister thought it worth placating the matrons and their fellow orphans. (Certainly, her social skills persuaded the caretakers to see his side of things more often than they would if he spoke to them, but still he found such diplomacy monotonous.) She spoke sparingly to the snakes, and only when he was already speaking to them, on the grounds that it was “rude” to do things that they knew made the others uncomfortable. She did not snap at anyone, or use her power to make them hurt; she ignored people who annoyed her and allowed Tom to handle people who provoked her.

“I’m glad for your temper sometimes,” she mused once when Tom returned, cool-faced, from scaring off a boy who had thrown a frog at her. “I don’t think you should always make a habit of it, though.”

“Habits are for people with dull minds,” he replied, returning to the book he had been reading.

When Professor Dumbledore came to tell them that they were magic and would be going to a place called Hogwarts, she let her brother do all of the talking; all of the asking and bragging (and, when the man set their wardrobe on fire, protesting). In the meantime, she observed from the social cues that Tom and the professor were developing a clear mutual dislike (as subtle as they both were about it) and considered the ways in which she could serve as damage control; it wouldn’t do for her brother to antagonize someone with power over them, as he had done with the matrons here.

The only time she spoke up was after Dumbledore gave them their allowance for school supplies, at which point she asked, “Are Galleons pure gold, sir?”

“Yes, Miss Riddle, they are,” the man answered.

“How many pounds to a Galleon?”

The professor told her.

She nodded, privately supposing that they could exploit the exchange rate of gold to pounds and pounds to Galleons and increase their money seemingly forever. She would tell Tom about it tomorrow.

That night, as Tom lay in bed with the day’s revelations running through him and his sister likewise resting on her side of the room, he whispered into the dark about how they would be running this new wizarding world before they were done. She didn’t answer, so he couldn’t be sure whether she believed him, but it didn’t matter; it was true. He would excel, because it was in his nature, and she would be with him because she was supposed to be.

At Hogwarts, they were sorted into Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Tom detested the separation, detested that they wouldn’t be sleeping in the same room, and he detested it more in the following weeks and months, as she came to make friends in her House. He had earned his housemates’ respect, through his own power and intelligence and aided on by the priciness of his possessions (thanks to his sister’s savvy Galleon exchanges), but it always soured his mood when he saw her laughing at the Ravenclaw table with some Other Person.

She knew him, though, well enough to make a point of giving him the most of her time, including leaving her friends straightaway, even mid-conversation, if he called her to be with him. It was out of respect for her that he allowed her these diversions, instead of scaring them away, but it was imperative that she show him that he took priority.

“You’re quite jealous,” she remarked in third year, while they were walking the grounds together without his followers. He had learned that she did not enjoy being near his followers and would spend longer times with him if they weren’t around. “It’s a sign of insecurity, you know.”

He ignored her attempt at starting a pointless argument. “I didn’t find anything using our father’s surname. I think our middle names must be the clue; ‘Marvolo’ and ‘Merope’ sound just like wizarding names, don’t they?”

“They do,” she agreed. “Thank you for keeping me updated on your search, though I wish you weren’t in Slytherin; almost none of the other Ravenclaws care about blood status. They don’t care if we’re Muggle-borns.”

“We’re not Muggle-borns,” he snapped, and was rewarded for his terseness with silence from her. His followers had come to uncomfortably ignore his heritage (or lack thereof) because he was frightening, cunning, and clever (and because his having grown in an orphanage with no knowledge of his parents allowed them to pretend that his parents could be purebloods), but there were only so few of them, because so many of his peers in Slytherin couldn’t get past his lack of a respectable name. No one provoked him, but he wanted them all to worship him.

And his sister, too.

When he found out that they were Slytherin’s heirs, he was sixteen, sitting at a table in the library by himself, poring over records. He checked over his readings several times before the feeling of vindication came over him.

He didn’t tell his sister about his findings until he had discovered the entrance to their Chamber, a month later; then, he dragged her out of the Great Hall (in the middle of a chess game with the “friend” he detested the most; that boy who she always seemed to be talking to and joking with) and into the girl’s bathroom, breathlessly saying, “Tell it to open.”

Flummoxed, it took her two tries to manage Parseltongue, but soon enough they were sliding down into the underbelly of the school, into their birthright.

As they wandered, with their wands lit, through the stone corridors, Tom felt the most alone with his sister he had in a while; it was like they were in their own world that no one else could access. Sealed away. She couldn’t talk to other friends here, nor had he any followers for her to take exception to. It was just them, and their destiny, and it was glorious.

He felt intoxicated by their aloneness, and wondered if this was how things had felt in the womb.

Their Chamber, their womb, their rebirth as heirs.

She seemed less pleased by the development; she kept murmuring, “I’ve read about this,” either to herself or to him.

“Relax,” he drawled. “This is our Chamber; nothing can happen to us here.”

“The stories say there’s a creature in the Chamber of Secrets, Tom. Some sort of monster.”

“A creature meant to serve the heirs of Slytherin; that’s what we’re looking for.”

“I don’t want to find it.” She turned to go back the way they’d come, but he grabbed her arm.

“Don’t go back. Aren’t you supposed to thank me for keeping you updated?”

She shook her arm from his grip. “Keeping me updated is telling me your findings, not tricking me into a dungeon full of snake skins. I can only think of the sort of monster that would leave these behind.”

“A snake, perhaps?”

“You’re not funny.”

Unexpectedly, her dry response awoke a rage he hadn’t noticed brewing inside himself. “No, that honor is reserved for Wilbur Cadwallader, isn’t it?”

The memories were rising, unbidden, to the surface, now; all the times he had looked up from his plate because the sound of her laugh was audible to him even in the Great Hall. All the times he had approached her in the Transfiguration Courtyard for no other reason than because watching her converse with Cadwallader and that ditzy redhead friend of hers made him want to chew glass. That one night, fifth year, when she had spent her prefect rounds walking with Cadwallader instead of him.

“Don’t use your envy to deflect. I want no part of-”

“Envy?” he repeated, very quietly. His sister was smart; she knew the difference between jealousy– the fear of losing what one owns –and envy– the desire for what someone else owns. She was too smart to use them interchangeably, which meant that she had chosen the word “envy” intentionally.

She recognized, also, his danger signs, and it was clear from her expression that she understood his change in tone, yet she carried on, “I want no part of Slytherin’s legacy.”

“I didn’t ask what you wanted a part of,” Tom said, still speaking very quietly. He noticed, suddenly, that he had grown much taller than her, in the past few years. “We are Slytherin’s heirs, and we are fated for greatness. It falls on us to restore the noble house of-”

“I’m a Ravenclaw,” she cut in coolly. “And anyway, I won’t be carrying the name of the family, in case you’ve forgotten; you will. Restore to your heart’s content. I want no part in it.” She tried, again, to walk away, but again he caught her arm, this time not releasing it.

“You’ll be restoring it with me, because we’re supposed to do it together. We balance each other; we always have. I’m going to rule this world, and you will be at my side if I have to…” Her suddenly sharp look caused him to trail off, as only she could.

She stormed away, and he fumed in place but allowed her to leave because if they continued to anger each other, he would probably hurt her, and he did not want to do that.

They did not speak to each other for a time after that, though he glared at her whenever she was in his line of sight and she made a point not to look his way. In the meantime, he opened the Chamber of Secrets, left messages on the school walls in rooster blood proclaiming the return of the heirs of Slytherin, and killed a mudblood from her house.

It was after this that she stalked up to him in the school library, her eyes fascinatingly red-rimmed and her expression furious. “They are going to close Hogwarts.”

He found it interesting how, even though he had spent so long enraged that she was ignoring him, seeing her so upset still made him want to alleviate her unhappiness. He ignored this feeling, though, and maintained a dry tone as he replied, “Don’t worry; I’ve made arrangements for the culprit to be brought to justice.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve said not to worry about it.” He watched her as she seemed to decide whether or not to leave him now. It was so weird to him that she saw herself as an individual. It was so obvious that she belonged to him; she was his sister, and they were Slytherin’s heirs, a deteriorated bloodline in need of strengthening. In need of purifying. “You haven’t met the basilisk,” he said, suddenly desperate to get her back into the Chamber.

“There’s a basilisk?” she said indifferently.

“Our basilisk. You should meet her.”

“Why would I want to meet a basilisk, Thomas?”

“You haven’t spoken to her.”

“No, but I’ve heard her, in the pipes. She doesn’t sound a dazzling conversationalist.”

“Come with me.” Somewhere in the building, Rubeus Hagrid was in the headmaster’s office, trying to explain away his illegal acromantula even though the poor thing had been doomed the moment he walked into this school as a half-giant. Tom could only imagine how wonderful it would feel to have a second victory today.

“You’re plotting something,” his sister accused.

“How astute.”

She rolled her eyes, in a clear, if reluctant, concession. “If it’s something stupid, I will leave.”

He took her down to the Chamber for a second time, adamant that she would not leave, even if she wanted to. He led her down a few corridors, rather than to the stone atrium he usually visited. There was a large pile of snake skins in this hallway, more commodious than the trails of snake skins littered throughout, that would be perfect for his purposes, and he hoped to put them to use.

“Last time you were here, I told you that we would rule together,” he said.

“So you did,” his sister answered, almost boredly. “I don’t suppose you’ve lost your enchantment with that idea?”

He licked his lips. She was walking ahead of him, as there were no forks in the corridor for him to guide her through. She wasn’t looking his way, but rather watching the ceiling as she went, as though intrigued by the idea of the whole of Hogwarts being above them.

Always walking ahead when she should have been walking by his side.

Tom pulled out his wand silently. The hex that he sent her way would have cleanly and entirely disabled her for at least the next ten minutes, but the sudden light that the spell provided had alerted her to his intentions, and she had spun hastily out of the way, removing her own wand from her pocket as she did so; he should have taken that from her before doing anything else. No matter.

What followed was a short duel, with extremely impressive spellwork all around. They were evenly matched, and he didn’t say that lightly; few ever matched him. But it came down to who wanted victory more, and her wariness of him did not exceed his desire for her.

Soon enough, she was crumpled on the ground, groaning and scarcely able to move. He lifted her into his arms and walked her to the chosen pile of snake skins. They weren’t exactly soft, but they had enough give to them that they were easily preferable to the stone floor. He set her down on them and climbed atop her.

Her eyes were nearly closed, but not quite, and they still followed his movement, which meant that she was conscious. Good.

“We’ve always kept each other in balance,” he said calmly, while keeping his wand leveled on her torso, working nonverbal magic to unfasten her robes. “No one of us could rule nearly as well without the other.”

Her gaze left him, instead peering at the far wall. He suspected she was looking for her wand, which had rolled down the corridor, but she wasn’t strong enough to move her head.

She should have been looking at him.

Her robes fell away, and his eyes feasted on her bareness. He had not seen so much of her in years.

She managed to growl at him, but only weakly.

“I let you have five years with those friends of yours,” he said softly. “I was generous, wasn’t I? I let you laugh and pretend with those idiots?”

She shut her eyes, because of course she knew exactly what would annoy him more than looking away from him.

He cast a mild stinging jinx to make her open them again, while at the same time removing her undergarments. “Watch me,” he hissed. “Watch me touch you.”

She watched, but only because he would keep stinging her if she didn’t.

He kissed her lips, then advanced his tongue into her mouth, and then moaned loudly, just so that she would have to know that she was giving him pleasure, no matter how much she hated it. She was naked under him, naked on a pile of snake skins in their Chamber of Secrets. He loosened his necktie, then his belt.

“We have the greatest magical lineage in the world, and it will be because of us that it continues,” he said.

“I will hurt you for this,” she told him, in Parseltongue because it was the only language she could manage in this state.

He thumbed licentiously at one of her nipples. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But I’d be careful making threats like that.” He pointed his wand at the middle of her head. “Maybe you’ll be better at carrying my babies if you don’t remember you’re doing it, hmm?”

She tried to keep glaring at him, but her bottom lip trembled, and she ended up closing her eyes again.

“Look at me,” he ordered, not stinging her this time.

She opened her eyes, and they were damp and scornful.

He kissed her lips again, more softly, and eased his trousers and pants down his waist. “Just think of how powerful we will be together,” he whispered, with the same awed tone he had once used to whisper to her at bedtime, when they’d shared a room at the orphanage.

(He’d been furious with Mrs. Cole when she’d made them move to separate rooms on account of his sister’s first menstrual cycle. Muggles always ruining things, always asserting themselves where they didn’t belong.)

“Ours will be the only bloodline that matters,” he breathed. “None of those so-called purebloods will dare say their family name in our presence. We will be royalty together.”

She was trying to move her arm, still trying to resist, but she was too weak. She would come around once she had to; she couldn’t stay mad at him once he had started making good on these promises.

He eased her legs apart and thrust himself inside of her. Her resulting moan rang through the stone halls, far from anyone who could dare to steal the symphony; it was just for him. Cadwallader certainly couldn’t hear her, couldn’t feel…Ohhh, Merlin. The contact, the perfect joining of two halves, was almost enough to make him release straightaway, but he knew that there was more, so he kept thrusting.

She listened to his hitches of breath and tried not to give him anything to listen to in return, though it was impossible not to make a sound. He was her first, but she would never tell him. She would go to the grave pretending that there was someone else before him.

Was she his first? Almost definitely.

This was so sick.

She thought that she wanted nothing more than for him to be done, but then when he finished inside her, it was a new kind of horrifying. Feeling him empty a load of horrors into her body, where they couldn’t be reached, all while making such enraptured sounds…They hadn’t taken contraceptive potions before the fact; she didn’t even know how to brew or access any, nor how to find out about them without destroying her reputation. And that was all counting on the assumption that Tom had only been trying to scare her, when he’d implied that he might erase her memory of this whole incident.

That thought sickened her the most, made her truly distraught, the idea that he might do all of this to her, wring pleasure from her helpless and unwilling body, and then she might be civil with him tomorrow regardless.

Himself, Tom intended to make full use of this night. His followers would cover for him if anyone inquired after his presence, and he would not be satisfied with exploring his sister’s potential only once.

He smiled. Upstairs, the whole issue of the dead mudblood was being squared away, with him scot free and even likely to receive an award for his heroism, and down here, he had finally achieved the correct amount of closeness with his sister.

He pulled out only once he was sure that none of his seed would be wasted. It actually wouldn’t be terribly convenient for her if she became pregnant while still in school, but it would increase her dependence on him, and she wouldn’t be foolish enough to name him as the child’s father (especially if he decided to make her forget that he was), so he could safely consider it a non-risk for himself.

He stared at her. Covered in sweat, even though she hadn’t been moving. Eyes closed, but he didn’t feel like bothering her over it now, when his mood was so good.

She probably considered it rude that he was allowed to keep his shirt and necktie on while she was completely bare; he rectified the problem, taking care to drape his clothes over the snake skins instead of on the dusty floor. He liked it better this way, at any rate; only skin against skin.

Clearing his throat to make her open her eyes, he pleasantly announced, “We’re going to go again, okay?”

Her gaze was positively gelid, but she didn’t growl, which he took as assent.

#male yandere #yandere tom riddle #yandere voldemort #possessive #obsession #lemon

656 notes · View notes

shutupandshipit · 3 years

Text

Sharpen your blades - Ch.3

Summary: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.

”With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.

“City Hall and the SC want us to give them more variety. We are a team solely made up of single skaters. Every year, we dominate the rankings for single skate while Shinketsu dominates the pairs, so this year both cities are being required to split their skaters evenly between singles and pairs with at least one pair coming from out top five.” There was a collective intake of breath, but no one commented, choosing instead to remain silent. “Unfortunately, for us, it’s a lot easier to switch from pairs to singles. With our male to female ratio, alpha/beta/omega ratio, and those of you actually experienced with pair skating, we’re at a disadvantage. So, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you.”

…..

Or where Katsuki and Izuku are forced to be partners so they can continue to compete, but the blood in the water may be thicker than anyone realized.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Chapter: 3/20

Previously <- Chapter 2: Refusal

Chapter 4: Fear -> Next

Author’s Note: Sorry, I 100% forgot to post yesterday, but I’m only a day late. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Training

Izuku was still in bed when his mom tapped on his door. After his injury and the subsequent surgeries, he rarely left his room unless he was going to school, physical therapy, or struggling through his chores. His hip, ankle and wrist were all weak, and his doctors still weren’t sure when or if he’d be able to do anything more than a fast walk.

Tearing his eyes from the video of Katsuki’s latest first place performance, he said, “Come in.”

Inko’s dark head poked around the door, an uncertain smile gracing her lips. “Hey, baby, there’s some people here to see you. I don’t know if you’re up for visitors.

With a grunt, Izuku pushed himself up against his headboard. “Who is it?” he asked, running a hand through his unruly curls.

“They say they’re coaches, and there’s a doctor with them. Um, Toshinori and Aizawa?”

Izuku almost swallowed his tongue. Through his choking, he gasped, “Like Toshinori Yagi and Aizawa Shouta?” He tossed back his sheets only to realize that he was still in his pajamas that were several days old, sweat stained and wrinkled. Then his eyes jumped up to the walls of his room, papered from one end to the other with posters of Toshinori when he’d still been skating competitively. There was a singular embarrassing photo of him and Aizawa the single time they’d partnered for a showcase.

What made it embarrassing wasn’t the fact that it was on his wall, but the fact that it was a blurry screenshot blown up to the point that it was almost unrecognizable.

“They can’t come in here!”

“Then come out here. They’re having tea right now.”

“I-I-” Izuku tried to think of an excuse, a reason not to see them. There was no reason two of the Skating Commission’s top coaches should be in his home. Why would they waste their time talking to someone as broken as him? He didn’t want to hear anything they had to say when they saw just how bad he was. He didn’t want to see the looks on their faces.

He frowned at the black mood that started to creep over him as it often did since his injury, sapping his energy and life until he felt barely human at all. When he glanced up, there were blue eyes looking at him over Inko’s head. Squeaking, he scrambled for his blankets.

Inko released a very similar noise to her omega son when she glanced around. Pushing into the room in a desperate attempt to get away from the hulking alpha, she left the door open.

Toshinori raised a placating hand, smiling. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you, just came to check. My name is Toshinori Yagi.”

“I know,” Izuku whispered before he realized that it might have sounded rude, cheeks heating as he glanced around the room at all his figure skating paraphernalia. He swallowed, sucking down a mouthful of the alpha’s sweet pound cake scent. He'd thought the blogs had been lying about his scent, and his mind reeled with this new information. “I’m just… not sure why you’re here.”

The smile never left Toshinori’s face. “Please, come out and we’ll explain. Chiyo would like to take a look at you as well.”

Izuku swallowed again, eyes wide as he stared. “Like Shuzeji Chiyo? The famous sports medicine doctor that put you back on the ice? Why…” He stopped, taking in Toshinori’s face again. Biting his lip, he shuffled to the edge of the bed and slowly eased his legs onto the floor. Inko immediately passed him his cane, and he grunted as he leaned into it heavily. “Okay. I’ll come out.”

Inko trailed closely behind him, ready to catch him if he stumbled. He could feel the burn of Toshinori’s eyes as he passed, and he couldn’t help the flush that colored his cheeks. He loved his mom, adored her more than anything else in the world, but at that moment, he felt a twinge of animosity rise from the black pool in his chest. He wished she wouldn’t shadow him like a just born calf, didn’t care half as much as she did.

He dismissed that thought as soon as he had it. Without his mother, he didn’t want to imagine where he’d be. Dead in a ditch probably.

It was slow going to the chairs that Inko had set out across the coffee table from the couch. Their couch wasn’t made for three bodies to sit on, but their visitors seemed to be comfortable enough as Izuku eased himself down into a chair. He didn’t release his cane, but instead held it more tightly as he glanced from the exhausted looking Aizawa Shouta to the ever chipper Shuzenji Chiyo and finally to the similarly sunny yet nervous Toshinori Yagi.

“Um, hello,” he murmured awkwardly after a moment, reaching out a hand, “I’m Midoriya Izuku. I’m sorry to be so forward, but I’m not really sure why you are all here.”

“Thought it was obvious,” Aizawa said, voice deep and deeply uninterested in the proceedings, “We’re here to recruit you for Yuuei’s newest generation of skaters. All we need is a yes or a no.”

Izuku’s hand tightened, knuckles going white. He glanced from one passive face to the next. “The doctors said I’d never skate again. They don’t even think I’ll be able to run again.” Biting at the inside of his cheek, he did his best to force back the heat pressing in at his eyes.

Shuzenji's smile widened. “That’s why I’m here, young man. I’ve gotten skaters with some rather nasty injuries back on the ice. Take Toshinori for example. Do you have your x-rays over the course of your recovery? And the first. I’d like to take a look if you don’t mind.”

“Of course!” Inko said before Izuku could even look at her. She jumped up from her seat and hurried down the hall to her room.

“Why is Yuuei looking for a new skating team? They already have one with a lot of really strong skaters.”

“Right,” Toshinori said, jumping into the conversations before Aizawa could answer, “but a lot of them are nearing the end of their competitive careers or are planning to go solo. Within the next ten years or sooner, all of them will be officially retired from the competitive circuit. So, we have to start training the next generation to take their places.”

Inko returned with a thick manila folder, and Shuzenji jumped down to take her into the kitchen where there was better light.

Izuku was quiet for a moment, listening to the quiet murmur of the two women. “So, why me? Even if I can skate again, it’s going to take a long time before I can compete again. I’m not even sure how you found me. My recent track record hasn’t been good.”

“Which is fine because we’re really interested in the team as competitors for senior divisions, not juniors. Yes, there was a decline in your performance over the past two years, but before that, you and your partner were making remarkable headway as competitors. We’d already had our eye on you two, and we were disappointed when you didn’t get a chance to go singles. We’ve already talked to Bakugou, and he’s agreed to join us.”

Izuku flinched at the mention of Katsuki, seeing all over again the look of horror and disgust on his face as Izuku lay broken on the ice just before he passed out. “I’m not skating pairs again. I want to skate singles.”

“That’s what Bakugou said as well,” Aizawa said, sitting forward to lace his fingers between his knees, “Good thing we’re only looking for singles. Yuuei isn’t known for pairs. One day, we might include them, but for the time being, there’s no reason to.”

“Good news, young man, I believe you’ll be able to get back on the ice by year’s end provided we change and increase your physical therapy,” Shuzenji called as she came back out of the kitchen, Inko trailing behind with tears wetting her cheeks. “Even if it’s not by the end of your year, you’ll definitely be able to skate again. Your breaks were a little messy and your dislocations bad, but everything seems to be healing well. Your doctors just have you doing the wrong kind of therapy. It’ll be hard work, but I have no doubt you can get through it.”

Swallowing, Izuku met Aizawa’s and Toshinori’s eyes again. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

…..

October Week 2

The music cut off suddenly. Izuku stumbled across the ice, toe pick catching and sending him sprawling.

“Midoriya,” Todoroki said, at his elbow in a moment with his peculiar snow and orchid scent.

Izuku accepted the helping hand, panting hard as sweat dripped down the side of his face and neck. He wiped at it with the sleeve of his shirt, dropping his hands to his knees.

“Maybe you should take a break. You haven’t stopped moving since we started, and you feel warmer than normal. Are you about to start your heat? You shouldn’t be on ice if you’re in pre-heat.”

Perceptive Todoroki, or maybe it was just an omega thing. Either way, Izuku quickly shook his head. Actually, when Izuku had looked at the figure skating calendar taped to his fridge, he’d been surprised to not only find that today was the start of week two of training, but also that there was a red line stretching for seven days into the third week of October. Izuku had immediately popped a suppressant, and went about his day.

He couldn’t be focussing on anything other than training. He just didn’t have the time.

“No, I’m fine. Just tired. This routine is going to be hard.” Izuku smiled up at his friend, but Todoroki’s mismatched eyes looked skeptical at best.

They stood up straight as Aizawa’s voice echoed through the rink. “That’s it for today. Pack up and get out, or don’t. I don’t care. We’re in the studio tomorrow. Don’t be late, or Nemuri isn’t going to be happy.” He turned from the rink entrance, striding away and not giving them time to ask him any questions.

The team met on ice only three times a week, in the studio twice for off ice training, and once at a nearby track for cardio and calisthenics. When they trained together, it was never more than three hours long. Any other training they did was on their own around jobs and college. Aizawa had supplied them with keys to the rink -perks of being the city’s official skating team-, but as far as he knew, Izuku was the only one who actively practiced every single day and often multiple times a day.

Izuku and Todoroki glided smoothly to the entrance with the rest of their teammates, but where the rest grabbed their guards and chattered loudly about classes and work and ‘I’m never going to get that jump down before December!’, Izuku remained on ice. “Chako, can you hand me my headphones and cell?”

Uraraka glanced over at him, cheeks flushed more pink than normal. “You’re not coming? We were going to get ramen. Just us omega.”

“Ah, no, I’m going to stay here a little longer. There’s still some things I wanted to go over.”

With a sigh, she reached into his bag behind her, easily finding the items along with the suppressants he kept in a plastic bag in case of emergencies. She stared at the pills, eyebrows pulling together as she frowned.

“Just vitamins!” he said too quickly and too loudly, leaning over the wall to grab his cell and headphones, “Thanks! Have a good time at ramen! I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” Shoving the buds into his ears and away from the wall, he slid back toward center ice where he stood to fiddle with his playlists.

Besides skating, he didn’t really do much else. He ran a figure skating blog where he posted videos of his own routines and lessons on how to perform different techniques and jumps. He also posted analyses on the wider skating world or particularly interesting foot work from other ice sports, ice skating events taking place across the globe, figure skaters’ costumes, ice skates, and so on. If it had anything to do with figure skating or putting blade to ice, it would inevitably end up on his blog one way or another. He earned enough from the blog to cover his living expenses and put some into savings. Everything else was covered by the wildly popular figure skating podcast he co-hosted where he got a kickback from the sponsorship deals and whatever merchandise they were able to sell. Since Izuku had also started helping with merchandise designs and marketing, they’d started to actually sell out of things.

One day, if Toshinori and Aizawa ever agreed, he wanted to be the first to write the autobiography detailing their brief yet bright partnership.

It only took the rest of the team ten minutes to clear out of the rink. Before the doors slammed closed, his friends called, “Bye, Deku! See you tomorrow! Go home soon!”

He waved his own goodbye. With a sigh of relief, he pressed play.

It was only when Izuku was alone on ice late at night with music in his ears and losing track of time that he was well and truly happy. With the others on ice, there was always the looming black cloud, the sense of dread, the reminder that Katsuki would be back from his rut sooner rather than later and at some point it would have to be him and Katsuki on ice together again. He didn’t hate the thought, but he did hate the anxiety it invoked within him.

Pushing away everything bad floating around in his chest, Izuku allowed himself to just enjoy the monotony of practice. One technique at a time. One song at a time. One leg at a time. The hours fell away, and outside, the sky fell dark.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he caught a flash of blond hair, broad shoulders covered in black and an orange bag out of the corner of his eye. He stumbled out of his spin and hit the ice, the impact jarring straight up his spine. Scrambling, he looked toward the rink entrance just in time to catch the double doors clicking softly closed.

The timer on his phone to switch techniques chimed.

…..

Katsuki let out an explosive sigh as he stepped out of his apartment building, breath pluming in the chilly night air.

Katsuki hated his ruts. Realistically, if the laws allowed him to, he could be a functioning member of everyday society during his ruts, at least he thought so. No one seemed to agree with him. Not his mother, his father or any of his friends. For some reason, they all seemed to think Katsuki had violent enough ruts to destroy his apartment. None of them had ever seen his apartment after a rut, and they never would as long as he had a say, not with the lingering scent of desperation and sex clinging to the walls.

His ruts weren’t violent, but they were boring as hell.

Adjusting his skating bag across his back and tightening the strap across his chest, he took off at a sharp clip towards the rink. He didn’t live far which he’d done on purpose rather than by accident. The nerd lived in the same building for the same reason. Katsuki should know, he’d been the one to discreetly leave a flyer with the words “Within walking distance of the famous Yuuei skating rink” bolded across the front in Izuku’s bag just before they’d graduated high school.

For an entire week, Katsuki was cooped up in his small one bedroom apartment. He wasted away the hours working out, cleaning incessantly, and binging hours of figure skating videos for inspiration for his own routines.

Katsuki had to deal with the typical rut related issues like getting hard every hour and the insistent heat that lived rent free beneath his skin that only made him feel like he was sweating to death. Even with all of his apartment windows thrown wide to invite in the plummeting autumn air, he left damp palm prints on everything . It was fucking maddening. The near painful erections that he ignored for as long as possible and the even more painful orgasms that followed were the bane of his existence. He did pretty much everything to avoid having to touch himself until there was literally no way around it.

The cold stung his lungs, and he inhaled greedily. His muscles, despite being exhausted from the long week, warmed quickly to the familiarity of running.

Here was the thing, Katsuki was a fully functioning adult male who enjoyed sex and the occasional jerk session as much as the next, but during his ruts, each orgasm just heaped disappointment on him and made him more irritable than he already would have been.

He wasn’t an aggressive rutter by any means -no torn bedding or holes in pillows or cracked plaster walls-, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed them. He would have dealt with them better if he was allowed on the ice.

There were suppressants he could use with various effects. To make his ruts shorter, happen only twice a year compared to four, eradicate them completely. Beside the host of physical side effects, he’d seen first hand what they’d done to Izuku. He wasn’t ashamed to say he wanted nothing to do with them.

Katsuki dug out the keys Aizawa had given him as he neared the rink, pulling off his gloves with his teeth one after the other. He didn’t normally practice late at night. It was easier to practice early in the morning to accommodate the rest of his schedule; training with the team, his modelling gig, the classes he taught for young athletes, and his own schooling. It wasn’t normal for him to practice at night, but he was making an exception. He wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he tried. Not literally right after his rut ended.

When he stepped through the double doors to the rink, he wasn’t expecting to find the rink lights still on and the smooth sound of blades biting into ice.

Doing his best not to be seen, he looked out onto the ice.

Wild green curls and elegant movements greeting him. Izuku moved on the ice like he’d been born skating. Even though he was gliding in a simple circle, round and round with one foot held off the ice in front of him, he was mesmerizing. His eyes were downcast, expression soft and lax as the quiet sound of his humming filled the rink.

To this day, Katsuki had never seen another skater who moved like Izuku. Moved like the ice was their true home. Moved like no one was watching him.

Except that everyone always had their eyes on Izuku. Toshinori, Aizawa, their teammates, Katsuki…

He wanted to hate it, wanted to hate how drawn he always was to Izuku, but he’d come to accept that it was impossible. Even a decade later after his injury, even seventeen years after they set foot on the ice for the first time, even nineteen years after they first met, Katsuki still couldn’t manage to hate it.

He turned back toward the door.

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #decchan #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!katsuki #omega!izuku #figure skater au #no quirks au #my writing #sharpen your blades

13 notes · View notes

dessarious · 4 years

Text

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt59

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

There was dead silence in the Watchtower for close to a minute before everyone erupted into chaos. Robin fought a smile as he watched the seasoned heroes turn into a mob of panic. The longer Discorde was active the more he liked her. Ladybug just sighed and rolled her eyes at her partner. This obviously wasn’t something they’d discussed. She let the pandemonium continue for a few minutes before letting out a sharp whistle to gain everyone’s attention.

“That’s enough.” Robin was impressed by the command in her tone. He even caught his father and Wonder Woman standing up straighter. “As Discorde said, I can cure this so there’s no reason for all this nonsense. Not to mention that the only ones that will be affected are those with Krytonian blood so most of you have nothing to worry about anyway.” That seemed to release some of the tension but they all gave Superman a wide berth regardless. Superman tried to level Ladybug with a glare but it was rendered ineffective by another coughing fit.

“I think you’ve proven your point, heal him already.” He had to say he was rather surprised that Green Lantern had worked up the nerve to glare at the heroine. He wasn’t surprised when the man backed down from the look she leveled at him.

“No, I don’t think I have. The situation in Paris is more volatile than ever and the last thing we need is outside interference to muddy the waters. Any action, including entering the city will be considered an act of war and we will retaliate.” Robin had to fight to hide his surprise at that statement and he heard a slight hitch in Discorde’s breath as well. “My team and I will handle the situation and recover the Miraculous. You will continue to ignore the situation as you’ve proven yourselves more than capable of doing for the past two years.”

There was a stunned silence as everyone processed the threat. Given Discorde’s display, going to war with the Miraculous would be disastrous and they all seemed to realize that. Some more grudgingly than others.

“Fine, but if this nonsense spreads outside of Paris, we’ll have no choice but to take matters into our own hands.” It was Superman’s last ditch effort to regain control of the situation and everyone knew it. Robin saw Ladybug’s expression soften slightly.

“Of course.” He watched her cast her cure and almost laughed at the stunned looks on various faces when the tables and chairs reappeared. Superman regained his normal color and the blood disappeared. There were more than a few sighs of relief. “I anticipate this will be the last time we need to meet like this. Hawkmoth’s reign of terror is about to come to an abrupt end.”

“And after?” The question came from his father. Robin hadn’t thought about what would happen after everything was settled. He was going to have to come up with an excuse to at least visit Paris. Ladybug just cocked her head in confusion.

“There is no after. Once this threat is dealt with there will be no need for us to interact. It’s best for everyone if the Miraculous stay hidden, and that includes their holders.” She sounded like she was reciting something that had been drilled into her. Discorde was even giving her a funny look. Wonder Woman looked confused more than anything. “We should be going.”

“Wait!” Wonder Woman approached and Robin could see Ladybug’s body tense. Discorde put herself between the two. “Could I speak to you privately for a moment?” Ladybug glanced at him and he could only shrug back at her. He had no clue what the woman could want.

“Fine, but only a moment. We really do need to get back.” They walked off to a corner together and Robin joined Discorde in frowning after them. Ladybug was listening intently and nodding every once in awhile but didn’t seem to be saying much herself. Wonder Woman seemed to be trying to break the sound barrier with her mouth.

“Should we be worried about that?” Discorde’s words were pitched low, for his ears only. He wished he had an answer for her.

“I’d ask Ladybug when you’re alone. She’s more likely to confide in you without witnesses.” She gave a thoughtful hum.

“Got yourself another girlfriend there Demon Spawn? I didn’t think you had it in you.” Robin pulled one of his knives without thinking and placed it threatening close to a tender part of his brother’s anatomy.

“I don’t have a girlfriend Hood and I suggest you learn to keep your ridiculous assumptions to yourself unless you want me to do everyone a favor and make it impossible for you to reproduce.” He really hated his family most days. Discorde was trying to split her attention between them and Ladybug but her heard the surprised hitch in her breath at his idiotic siblings next words.

“Oh calm down Damian it was just a joke.” He was going to castrate the bastard this time. He did feel a small amount of satisfaction that he’d been right about which one of them would end up outing them. Before he could properly deal with his father’s biggest mistake Ladybug came back and opened a portal for them. It dropped them on a rooftop about halfway between the apartment and the Grand Paris.

“You’re Damian Wayne?” It wasn’t really a question and he saw Ladybug’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Yes Chloe I am.” There was really no point in denying it after Todd’s massive screw up, but it did give him the satisfaction of seeing both Miraculous holders stunned for a moment.

“How did you…” He scoffed as Ladybug trailed off. She really must think him an idiot.

“Who else would you trust? I’ll admit if I didn’t know who you were I wouldn’t have figured it out but given your track record the choices were Chloe or Luka and I was pretty sure Luka wouldn’t disguise himself as a girl just for the hell of it.”

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

Ko-Fi

Tag List

@noirdots @valeks-princess @chocolatecatstheron @krispydefendorpolice @bee-wrecker @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @northernbluetongue @paradoxal-occurance @scrumptiouslyelegantchaosqueen @sonif50 @thequestionablyhuman @persephonebutkore @elspethshadow @geekydragonyt @mmwolf1605 @da-tasuky @mjisntme @bluerosette23 @anjuschiffer @littleredrobinhoodlum @tazanna-blythe @resignedcatservant @schrodingers25 @seraphichana @persephonescat @punstoppablechatnoir @magicalfirebird @crazylittlemunchkin @corabeth11 @cyborgcandy @casual-darkness @shamefullove @miraculous-simmer7 @tamoni112 @cat181818meow @littleblue5mcdork @allthebooksandcrannies @enchanted-nerd @disneyfoxuniverse @fallinginthe-void @mandy984 @goggles-mcgee @fontegagrilledcheese @dorkus-minimus @theatreandcomicfreak @zerotosiki @ayuchan07 @mindfulmagics @urbanpineapplefarmer @winter-gardenflower @mooshoon @my-name-is-michell @melicmusicmagic @7-sage-7 @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @alicesangelofmusic @caffeinetheory @nataladriana9 @multplelifes @wanderingreader1019 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mvaree @redscarlet95 @storyteller-d @howabouticallyou @ginamarie1512 @kurogaya913 @tbehartoo @maddrag @two-faced-biatch @senyahgirl @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @iloontjeboontje @kakashixobito @welcometopradasa @amirahevens @amlesi @miraculousbelladonna @virgil-is-a-cutie @18-fandoms-unite-08 @cupcakeandkisses @angelofmusickaterinapetrova @book-r-the-best @dur55 @moonlightstar64 @fertileleaf @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @thecaptainthunder @danielslilangel @novicevoice @nyaabinch @interobanginyourmom @welcometopradasa @charlietheepic7 @im-here-for-the-content @maya-custodios-dionach @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @starwindmaden @tired-butterfly @rogueptoridactyl @emeraldpuffguide @suzen23smith @yuulxd @animegirlweeb @alovelyocean @kris-pines04 @semaalcocer-blog @cadencehood @jardimazul @shethecat @silent-storms-posts @simplysslytherin @tog84 @thesunanditsangel @dast218 @tall-and-angry @the-alice-of-hearts @captainmac6 @theyellowfeverexperience @chrismarium @alessialeone6997 @heaven428 @tinyterror333 @smolplantmum @lilyellowink @naoryllis @katiegardneriscoolerthanyou @magewriter @doodledeerest @athena452 @peachedpocky @tired-butterfly @risingmoonyue @lunammoon @mylife-demonstrates-murphys-law @bobothyross @silvergold-swirl @loysydark @heaven428 @peachedpocky @hauntedwintersweets @awesome-starfish-and-tacos @silvergold-swirl @rosesgonerogue @castielsofficialtoothbrush @myazael @aestheticnpoetic @creator-josie @sturchling @snowstar1016 @myblacknightworld @kittycatwowmeow @midnightkaito @chylou34 @hufflejournals @indecisive-mess-named-me @uwuteamleader @sassakitty @jessigurl-design @demigodgirl20031 @freshbark @soup-served-chilling @elmokingkong @unknownvsworld @thatonegaybitchfromschool @tis-i-beanbandit @damianette-is-life @peachesbackup @nobodyw8s4evr

#maribat #marinette dupen chang #damian wayne #bffmaridami

257 notes · View notes

saiilorstars · 4 years

Text

Dare To Forget Me

Ch. 23: Tangled

/ Previous chapters /

Fandom: Law & Order SVU

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Female OC

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ` 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Chapter Summary: Clare Wilson's case continues to get more and more tangled, but that's nothing compared to what Montserrat and Rafael have going on.

Alright, so plans weren't turning out so well...for some people. Others actually got to where they needed to be on time. Like a professional does.

Montserrat practically ran down a hallway, slowing down only when she saw Rafael coming out of Judge Dolan's office. He looked peeved...and this time with good reasons.

"Where the hell is Rollins?" he demanded from the detective who was out of breath.

"I... don't know…" he took in a deep breath. "I just got a call from Liv and I dragged my ass out here."

"No good, you're still late," his snap was met with a glare.

"Hey, at least I'm here. And did I mention you're crankier in the mornings? Didn't think that was possible, by the way."

Rafael ignored her and led the way down the hallway. "We need to get Clare out now."

Still, Montserrat had to follow him. "Dolan signed the release forms?"

"Yes. I got him to do it because I was here on time," he purposely said loudly.

"You should be grateful I'm here," she snapped this time. "It wasn't my turn."

"Sorry," he scoffed. "Didn't know my presence was so bothersome to you that you had to tag team now."

"Don't be like that, please," she moved up so she could walk alongside him instead of behind. Her plead had come not in a snap, nor a demand, but instead in a way that sounded exactly like what it was: a plead.

Against his will, Rafael was forced to calm his snaps. It was that little effect she had on him that he wished she didn't. Because if she didn't, then it would be a lot easier to put some distance between them. It would be so much easier to show her that he was not the right person for her.

"Let's just go get Clare and go home," he said calmer but still put a bit more speed into his walk to leave her behind. It was simply for the best.

~0~

With Amanda being a confirmed no-show, Montserrat was the one to go directly to the officers in charge of the juvenile facility to get Clare back. There she was at the front desk, anxiously giving out Clare's information to get her back.

"Mm, one of those," the officer hummed after pulling up the right profile.

Montserrat made a face at the woman. "What does that mean?"

The officer ignored the question and moved on to what she found. "You're a little late. Yeah, she started acting up, so we gave her diesel therapy." At Montserrat's blank face, the officer elaborated. "Put her on a bus to Knollwood Juvenile."

"And where's that?"

"The Delaware border," the officer's rude manner pushed Montserrat more than where she already was.

The detective glared with a crinkled nose. "Well, thank you for nothing." She turned away and ignored the officer's face. She made it back to Rafael and told him what happened and of course had his first outraged response all to herself.

"Are you kidding me!?" he looked ready to go to the officer himself.

"Nothing I can do! She's out of our reach-"

Rafael brought a hand to his forehead and rubbed circles over it. "Maybe if you or Rollins had been here on time we would've caught her."

"Woah, I know you are not blaming me for this," she stepped closer to him and glared.

But like before, they were evenly matched.

He stepped closer as well and leveled her glare with his own. "Were you here on time? Was Rollins?"

"It wasn't my call," she said slowly. She was well aware of their proximity but this time he had her so irritated she wanted to smack him not kiss him. "Amanda was meant to be in. I had plans! I had the day off!"

"Oh, excuse me, then," Rafael sarcastically said as he backed away. He did it for measures though. "What plans did you have that were more important than your job?"

"Seeing my brother who's been gone for an entire month," Montserrat spat, and did technically get through to the man. "Gael and Damien were on a business trip, remember? We even celebrated my birthday earlier because they weren't sure if they would be back before my birthday."

Yup, Rafael did remember that. Dammit. He inwardly sighed and started regretting all the animosity he spewed. "I'm sorry."

"I was supposed to be out today so I could see him. So sorry if it got in your way," Montserrat pushed past him towards the door.

Rafael thought about going after her but he knew she'd never listen to him right now. He'd be lucky if she did even when she was angry with him. Why couldn't Rollins just have gotten here like planned? he would think endlessly on the way home.

~0~

Hearing they missed Clare, Olivia decided to go straight for the girl herself in her new prison. She took Nick with her, in hopes of finally getting the girl back. In the meantime, when Amanda finally showed up later that day (much, much later), everyone had their go at her. But no one was more irritated than Montserrat.

"I got yelled at because you didn't show up!" the ginger was shouting in Amanda's face. "I had plans, too, you know."

Amanda had a headache. It was a terrible, terrible headache that was borderline a migraine. She nursed a cup of coffee and just nodded as Montserrat yelled at her. When Montserrat was done, the ginger returned to her desk and plopped down while she waited for Amanda to finally speak.

"I'm sorry, guys. Something came up," Amanda said. Yeah, betting did. "It was irresponsible not to call in. That's my bad."

"Yeah," Montserrat snapped.

"Are you alright, Rollins?" Fin eyed the blonde woman with some concern. earlier in the day when they had first gotten word Amanda did not show up to Hudson county, Nick had talked to him on the side about Amanda's recent odd behavior. At the time, then just brushed Nick's words off. But now, looking at Amanda, he was beginning to think Nick was right in some sense.

Amanda seemed huddled as she took her seat at her desk. Even her nod is kind of off. "Yeah. Just not my best day." She glanced over at Montserrat, genuinely looking sorry for putting the ginger into that situation. "I'm sorry, Montserrat. I didn't mean to ruin your day."

Montserrat didn't say anything but she sensed Amanda's honesty. It wasn't so much that she had to cancel her plans with her brother, as it was that she'd been forced to be with Rafael when she was clearly not ready because all she seemed to do was argue with him, even more now. And that was saying something.

"Let's just focus on Perry's connections, shall we?" Sonny eventually asked after the silence became too awkward.

It was really the best they could do to push away the hard feelings. However, after a few hours they got a call from a very angry Olivia who ordered them to do some digging on the new prison Clare was in, Knollwood. As soon as they had something concrete, they were to meet her with Rubirosa and Rafael.

Olivia was livid even after they met her. And as she told the group how they found Clare's new prison, it just got her riled up even more. "Forget about releasing Clare. They wouldn't even let us see her!"

Nick, who was a bit more calm than Olivia, added, "They said she was in solitary. And she's staying in there no matter what."

"We called a contact at Jersey DOC, but he said Knollwood sets its own rules," Fin said.

"Knollwood's a private facility?" Rafael asked, even though he assumed the answer based on everything Olivia had told them so far (well, raged about).

"Oh yeah, owned and operated," Sonny answered. "The state pays per prisoner each day that they're there."

"It's pretty lucrative," Amanda remarked as she picked up a file she and Montserrat worked on before coming. It was the only way they wouldn't argue and once they found out more about Knollwood, setting aside their differences wasn't that hard. "They hit record profits just last quarter. So the more prisoners they get, the more money they make."

"And they're not exactly putting those profits back into the facility or rehab," Montserrat crinkled her nose as she remembered the details and accompanying photographs they'd found in their research.

"We get that," Rafael said dismissively while he went through his own paperwork.

Montserrat gave him a look for that. "No-" that sharpness made him involuntarily wince and look up to meet her hardened gaze, "-you really don't. There have been dozens of attempted teenage suicides. There's allegations of drug abuse, violence, sexual abuse-"

"-can we just put reforming the for-profit prison system on hold and focus on Clare?" he managed to cut through, not that it made Montserrat any happier.

"I was getting to that, Counselor," she smiled sarcastically. "If you'd let me talk. So every judge in Jersey- they send a few kids there a year, but Judge Dolan - 90% of his juveniles end up there."

"So the judge is funneling them business," Rubirosa got in and asked the winning question. "What's Knollwood funneling back to him?"

"We'll get back to you on that," Amanda made an apologetic face.

"And the Perry money trail?" asked Rafael.

"We have forensic accountants tearing his books apart, but he still won't give us the name of Clare's rapist," Sonny said. "And he had the Hudson County legal system railroad Clare. I mean, whoever this rapist is, he has serious hooks."

Olivia understood that and it made her even angrier they couldn't get to him. "So, Fin, Amaro, Carisi, keep hitting Perry. Novak, Rollins, keep digging at Knollwood. In the meantime-" she turned to the two ADAs, "-do you guys have any plan at all to get Clare out of there?"

Judging by Rubirosa's face, it appeared she'd been thinking about it for a while now. "I'm gonna get a forthwith order releasing Clare to New York's DOC."

"How is that any different from the last one?" Montserrat curiously asked.

"Even if she's in solitary, the warden will have to release her immediately."

Montserrat nodded and, very lowly, whispered to Sonny, "She's good." Sonny knew she had to have hated making that admission considering how she felt towards Rubirosa.

~0~

Thankfully, Rubirosa followed through and allowed SVU to finally take Clare somewhere safe. At this point, it was back to the hospital so she could rest and get back to normal health. Prison had done a number on her again.

"They drugged me," Clare said with a scratch voice. She'd been given a room in the hospital for her to peacefully rest in and was now receiving a visit from Montserrat. "They said I was out of control. I mean, I know I'm no white dove but…I didn't deserve that."

Montserrat watched the girl's eyes get watery and felt rage towards the prison ward, as well as the whole situation in general. "I'm so sorry, Clare, but we're working on bringing Perry down right now."

"Did he tell you the name of my rapist?"

"...no," Montserrat watched the little hope Clare had leave her body with slumped shoulders. "But we will, okay? We told you we're not giving up on you, remember?"

"You guys got me out of there," Clare said, reminding herself that even though they did get the chance to abandon her they didn't. "It was awful there."

"I heard," Montserrat said sadly.

"They dry-celled me in solitary. There was no running water. They called it the brown room. I had to sleep on the floor with no blankets. The other kids - everyone had bruises," Clare looked down at her arms which, surprisingly, bore no said bruises. "I guess I got lucky in that department."

"You're never going back there again, I promise," Montserrat got up from her seat to check her buzzing phone. "That's my partner. We may have gotten a breakthrough somewhere. I'll come back, okay?"

Clare nodded and smiled at the detective. "Thanks for being here."

"Of course," Montserrat offered a smile of her own then headed out of the room. As soon as she was outside the room, she sighed. She just kept thinking about her niece and it sickened her that no one else was watching out for Clare.

~ 0 ~

By the time Montserrat returned to the precinct, the group was already at the conference table discussing their recent findings on Perry.

"How was Clare?" Olivia asked her once she joined them.

"In honesty, she's had a rough few days," Montserrat sighed. "But I think she'll be good now, even more so if we manage to catch her rapist."

"Well, maybe we're getting there," Amanda walked over to the board of their case. "The Masconis are the ones getting the money from Knollwood."

"So did we get anywhere with Perry's byzantine financial system?" Montserrat looked at the men who'd been in charge of that.

"No, but we decided to take an alternate route," Fin said. "We took a look at Judge Dolan's finances."

"Hm, let me guess. Beatrice D'Avola's PR firm pays him as a consultant?" Olivia asked.

"No, money flows the other way."

"Four years ago, the Judge starts writing checks to local assemblymen, the Governor as well. 40 grand a year," Sonny relayed from one document they'd been able to get.

"The Governor?" Rafael stopped him, as if to mean for Sonny to check his details again.

"He's the one who appoints county prosecutors," Rubirosa pointed out. "With the advice of local assemblymen. A lot of money for a family court judge."

"He had to take out a second mortgage," Nick shared with them.

"What, for campaign contributions? He still writing checks?"

"No, he stopped two years ago."

"And that's when Knollwood hired the PR firm owned by Masconi's mother-in-law," Montserrat was catching up on the files on the table. She crinkled her nose at that detail and looked up to see if they'd caught on with it too.

"And when Dolan starts dumping every juvie he comes across into Knollwood," Fin agreed with her.

"So Masconi says 'Jump' and Dolan says 'How high'?" Olivia was liking they were finally getting somewhere with the case. The deeper they were into the case, the more they could get for each culprit.

"What does he have on him?" Rubirosa leaned against the table, her dark eyes flickering from one picture on the board to the next.

Rafael came to stand beside her and gazed at the board himself. Well, like any group of criminals there was always the strong and the weak, the boss and the lackeys. "Masconi, Perry- they're old-school thugs. Dolan bullies teenage girls. Let's hit the weak link."

Montserrat had the misfortune of witnessing the brief smirk he shared with Rubirosa. She didn't like it.

~ 0 ~

"You're jealous?" Kara had no regards for prudence or plain kindness. She just laughed while the two set dinner at the table, six plates, while Montserrat practically slammed the forks down beside each plate.

"Funny, I was under the impression that you were my best friend who would not laugh at my misery," Montserrat's quiet sarcasm was responded with another small laugh.

"I'm sorry, but it's too funny."

"My misery?"

"Hey, if you would've listened before, then none of this would've happened."

"Except it would have because Rafael would have still said the same things he did now," Montserrat put the last of the utensils down. She brought her hands up to her hair that she pushed back. "Oh my God, this is ridiculous. If I hadn't kissed him none of this would be happening."

"But you would be stuck in an endless 'what if' pit," Kara pointed out, much more serious now that she saw how stressed Montserrat was.

"But it's got to be better than this, right?" Montserrat dropped her hands and pressed them against the table to lean forwards on. "Here I am being jealous of some woman who's just doing her job. And when I'm not being jealous, I'm arguing with Rafael. Anything would have been better than this. It's got to be."

Kara stared at her friend with sorrow. "Okay," she moved around the table and gently turned Montserrat around. "I know that's how you feel, but I know that getting it off your chest was the better choice, you know it too. It's hard, but it will pass. And whatever happens, you'll know you made the right choice."

Montserrat swallowed hard and pushed away any tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "Yeah…" she whispered.

There was an exciting knock on the door from one four year old calling out, "Auntie Montse! I have a new game! Auntie Montse!"

Kara chuckled. "Love her. You want me to wait a minute-"

Montserrat shook her head. "No, go answer it. I'm good." She drew in a breath while Kara walked towards the door. They were having dinner with their brothers, and Montserrat's nieces, and this was something she didn't want to ruin. Some good family time was exactly what she needed.

As soon as Kara opened the door, Ivana Novak scurried into the apartment and went straight for her aunt. Montserrat bent down to pick the girl up in time.

"Auntie Montse! I've got Candyland! Do you want to play!?"

"Where's my hug and kiss first?" Montserrat's demand was met immediately with one brief tight hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"We can play now!?"

Montserrat laughed, a genuine laugh too. "Maybe after dinner, okay?"

Ivana nodded and was promptly set back on the floor. Montserrat moved on to hug Kara's brother, Damien, and then her brother, Gael.

"Please tell me you fixed your WiFi," Juliana's remark was practically ignored by Montserrat who pulled her into a tight hug. "Uh, okay…" Juliana was taken aback by the tightness of the hug. "Aunt Montse, are you alright?"

"Sorry," Montserrat pulled away from the teenager and looked at the others apologetically. "I have a case with a girl who reminds me of you, Julia. She's a year older than you but...she's had it tough."

"Oh god, what happened to her?"

"Lots of things, sweetie," Montserrat brought her, and prompted the others, towards the table. "We just got her out of prison after she'd been deprived of food and water, and sleep…"

"That's awful," Juliana made a face as she sat down. "Is she going to be okay now?"

"Course she is," Damien answered before Montserrat could. He smiled at the ginger. "Because your aunt's on the case now."

Montserrat smiled softly. "Thanks."

"C'mon, let's have some dinner," Kara said as she emerged from the kitchen with a tray of casserole.

"That smells good, Kara," Gael sniffed the air, along with Ivana. He could never deny that wasn't his daughter.

"I've been learning how to cook with Sonny," Kara proudly set the tray on the table.

"Yup, I'll give her that," Montserrat nodded. "We haven't had to call the firefighters in months now." Kara smacked her shoulder, making the others laugh.

"Just start serving or at least give me the spoon," Damien said as he searched for the spoon himself.

"I want to go first!" Ivana raised her hand and started getting up on her chair when Gael gently made her sit again.

"So Montse, was your birthday fun?"

Montserrat, who'd been drinking out of her glass, nearly choked on it when the subject changed. "What?" she looked at her brother with wide eyes. "Why? What have you heard?"

"Montse," Kara mumbled for the woman to get it together.

Gael was indeed staring at her sister. Montserrat cleared her throat and answered much calmer, "I...it was okay. It's never really fun turning 30, right?"

"I remember that," Damien nudged Gael on the side. "Remember our 30th?"

"I'd rather not," Gael agreed with a nod.

"I'm mad I didn't get to go to your party," Juliana crossed her arms, rather upset until Kara put a slice of casserole on her plate.

"It was at a bar," Montserrat reminded her. "No way your grandfather would let you go."

"Done good," Gael pointed. "But Montse, here's a gift I picked up. Juliana, sweetie?" Juliana nodded and got up from her chair to go retrieve a paper bag they'd left near the couch.

"A present?" Montserrat glanced to see her niece picking up the bag. "Oh no, please-"

"It's late, but I hope you like it," Gael took the bag from Juliana.

"Just so you know, I made sure it was good," Juliana warned Montserrat as she went back to her seat. "You know how men are with their gifts."

Montserrat chuckled as she reached a hand inside the bag. She pulled out a white rectangular box that she gingerly placed on the table. Inside she found a personalized, silver glass photo frame with a photo of herself, her father, Gael, the girls and Casey. To its right was an engraved phrase that read 'Our family may be small, but we are mighty' in Slovak, their home language.

"Oh that is beautiful, Gael!" Montserrat gawked. She remembered that photo from a birthday picnic they had for their father's birthday last year. "I love this!"

"Let me see!" Kara wiggled her fingers to get the frame. She tilted her head while she tried to read the foreign language. "What's that say?"

Montserrat took back the frame and read aloud, "Naša rodina môže byť malá, ale sme mocní. We may be small, but we are mighty."

"Aww, that's so cute," Kara chuckled.

"Okay, well, open mine now," Damien surprised her with his own gift that apparently fit inside his jacket.

"Guys…" Montserrat looked guilty for taking more presents, but no one seemed to care. Damien handed his present, shaped as a small box, to Montserrat. With a sigh, she took it and lifted its lid to find an emerald Kate Spade watch inside. It had light pink jewels on the glass of the watch. When Montserrat turned it over, she found her name engraved on the back. "Wow…" she blinked. "I…"

"Do you like it?" Damien seemed eager to hear the answer.

"Are you kidding? I love it," Montserrat laughed. "I'll probably wear this everyday!"

"That's the idea!"

Montserrat smiled at him then the others. For the next few hours, she'd finally get some peace.

~ 0 ~

The weakest link turned out to be even more fragile than Rafael had thought. Mere hours after Amanda and Fin visited Judge Dolan, the news of his suicide spread like wildfire through the media.

"This photo is probably why Judge Dolan killed himself," Amanda showed the group a picture of said judge with a 12 year old on his lap. "It was sent to him right before he killed himself.

Rubirosa took a closer look at the girl in the picture. "I know this girl. I saw her file. Miyako Nara, she was born into a massage parlor, passed around early."

"Where is this girl now?" Olivia asked.

"She disappeared four years ago. No trace of her since."

"Four years ago?" repeated Rafael, sounding like he'd just made a connection the others hadn't yet. "That's when Dolan started paying off Masconi's political cronies."

"Okay, now we know what Masconi has on Dolan," Nick said.

"Yeah but if they're smart then they definitely didn't send that picture on his own phone, right?" Montserrat watched Amanda shake her head. "Yeah."

"But the photo looks like a surveillance still from a private room at a strip club," Sonny pointedly looked at the group, reminding them what link they still had in their possession. "Miyako used to work at Perry's Jersey City club."

"All roads lead to Perry," Olivia bitterly said.

"Well, maybe Perry will talk now that Dolan's out of the picture," Montserrat suggested another round with the man.

"Worth a shot," Rubirosa agreed with her.

~ 0 ~

Clare shuddered a breath when she stepped into the lineup room to pick out the man who raped her. She couldn't believe they'd actually gotten him and that now it was just up to her to pick him out.

"Whenever you're ready," Montserrat gently brought the girl up to the glass.

Clare only needed to look once before she spotted the familiar man. "It's him, number three."

"Are you sure?" Olivia asked.

Clare nodded, swallowing roughly. "He raped me in the VIP room. It's like he thought I was part of the deal."

"Are we done here?" ADA Gina Masconi, Masconi's wife, moved forwards but Montserrat blocked the way to Clare. "I would like a word with my client."

"You mean your husband?" Olivia raised an eyebrow. "You're still standing by your man, Counselor?"

"Get some self respect," Montserrat muttered but was heard just fine by Masconi. "I'm going to bring Clare back to the group home. I'll be back later."

Olivia nodded for her to go and wished Clare well before they did.

~ 0 ~

"So the man who raped me is the prosecutor who charged me with fraud?" Clare felt like her head would hurt if she kept thinking about it. Montserrat was walking her down the group home hallway, back to her old room.

"Yeah, and the judge that put you away was being blackmailed by him," Montserrat added, but didn't expect Clare to remark about it. "I'm sorry. New Jersey- they're never gonna clean it up."

"But I'm safe now. They can't charge me?" Clare asked, stopping by the threshold of her room. "They can't send me back to Knollwood?"

"Absolutely not," Montserrat promised since she could see the fear of the idea in Clare's eyes. "And the feds assured us that they're gonna investigate Knollwood. We might free more of the kids inside there."

"Can you trust those guys?"

Montserrat bobbed her head for a few seconds. "Well, my friend seems to and, despite his irritating habits, he knows his stuff."

"So what happens now?" Clare stepped inside the room, and suddenly it didn't look so small like before.

"You start your new life. Go get your GED. Maybe go to college?"

Clare shrugged but Montserrat could see the smile on the girl's face. "With my view. There's my tree." She walked up to the window to peer out. She might go out later.

Montserrat felt her phone buzz inside her pocket so she pulled it out to read a text message. She quickly type back and put the phone back in her pocket. "So listen," at her voice, Clare turned sideways, "I know that being a teenager is hard enough, so...I may have done something to try and help."

"Like what?" Clare crossed her arms and waited for it.

"Well, that thing about your GED? I think I may have someone who could help you study and, I don't know, just be a friend?"

Clare looked at the detective suspiciously and even more so when she spotted a teenage girl with light red hair coming into the room.

"Clare, this is my niece, Juliana," Montserrat brought Juliana further into the room.

"Hey, you can call me Jules if you'd like," Juliana's nonchalant greeting made wonders for Clare. Everyone else in the group home seemed to have this pity look for her.

"Okay…" Clare's eyes flickered to Montserrat. "What's she doing here?"

Juliana covered her aunt's mouth - which she got a glare from Montserrat for - to speak with the right words. "Look, I know you've been through some tough stuff so my aunt thought it would be nice if you had someone to show you around the city. You know, like the fun parts?"

Clare somehow found a smile. "You can do that?"

"My Dad's okay with it but I need to check in every once in a while. Plus, I know where the best diner is in these parts. Have you ever tried french fries with milkshakes?"

"No...because I'm a sane person...in what fits."

"It'll blow your mind," Juliana made a motion above her head like if something were exploding.

"Okay," Clare nodded, seemingly getting into the idea. "Thanks."

"No problem!" Juliana smiled. She glanced at her aunt to see she was doing the same thing.

~ 0 ~

"Done deal, case closed," Amanda seemed to be in a hurry to leave the bullpen. She was gathering her things on her desk, ignoring what the others were planning for the night.

"We could get some drinks?" Sonny was asking the detectives, along with Olivia and Rafael. He spotted Montserrat coming in and called out to her, "Hey, how'd it go with Clare?"

"Um, I think she'll be good," Montserrat leaned against the side of her desk. "I introduced her to Juliana and I think that might help Clare get back to some normality."

"That's good, girl needs it," Fin nodded.

"And your brother's okay with this?" Olivia raised an eyebrow, making a good question.

"He knows I'd never put Juliana in danger," Montserrat smiled. "I think it could be good for Clare. And Juliana actually wanted to help."

"Alright, well, I gotta go," Amanda finally slung her bag over her shoulder. "See y'all tomorrow."

"Rollins, you're not going…?" Nick trailed off since the blonde left without hearing anything else. He turned his chair to the others and pointed behind for Amanda. "I'm not the only one who sees that, right? Something's wrong with Rollins."

"I think you just need to focus on yourself, Amaro," Rafael said. Nick rolled his eyes in response.

"Yeah, so how about them drinks?" Sonny pushed himself up from his seat.

"You don't have a date with Kara today?" Montserrat gave him a suspicious look. "You blow off my roommate, I kill you. You know that, right?"

Sonny playfully rolled his eyes at her. "One moment you're on me about actually having a relationship with Kara and then you're suddenly upset because I'm not paying attention to her?"

Montserrat shrugged her shoulders. "It depends on my mood."

Sonny deadpanned her and concluded he needed that drink now. "I'm leaving. Anyone joining?"

"Me," Fin raised a hand and got up. Nick agreed and started getting his jacket.

"How about you, Liv? Councilor?" Sonny gave a look at the two in question then one for Montserrat. "Montse?"

"I'm good, thanks," Montserrat said fast then looked to Rafael, as if letting him know he was free to go now since she'd declined.

Olivia declined as well, saying she was much too tired to think about drinking out from home. She was the next one to leave, but unlike Amanda she was in no apparent rush.

"Guess it's a guy's night out," Sonny shrugged and started leading the way.

"Can't see that turning out wrong," Montserrat sarcastically said, earning herself a look from Fin.

"Yeah, yeah," the man waved her off.

"Montserrat?" Rafael purposely lingered behind.

The woman, however, started getting her things with no intention of sticking around for another conversation that would inevitably turn into an argument. "You're free to go, Councilor. I wouldn't have said 'yes' anyways to drinks. I'm tired."

"But that's not what I'd like anyways," he said. "We can't go avoiding each other when we work together. And not being able to be in the same room together? Really?"

Montserrat didn't want to be frustrated, but it showed by the harsh way she stuffed her jacket into her bag. "Well, what do you suggest?" she looked up to meet his gaze. "Because it seems like whatever we do, we end up arguing anyways."

"I'm sorry-"

"-don't apologize. You just anger me more like that."

"Then I guess I should keep my mouth shut around you?"

"Maybe so."

Rafael deadpanned her before scolding her, "Montserrat, believe it or not it's not my intention to anger you, much less hurt you."

Montserrat seemingly discarded his apology to the side as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "Well you're doing a fantastic job here."

"I'm sorry," he said seriously. "You might not believe me, but I am sorry." Before she could toss that apology and leave, he grabbed her arm and made her look at him. "I know your birthday was never one you wanted to celebrate and I stupidly thought I could ease that night for you. But I just made things worse."

"I don't get why," Montserrat said quietly.

"I'm trying to help you," he clarified and for some reason, this time, she could believe him. She might not agree with him, but she could see the honesty in his eyes. "I don't want to ruin you."

"Why would you do that? How would you even do that to me?"

There was a weak smile on Rafael's face. "Why do you think Yelina and I didn't last? It's always me." Montserrat's face softened. She flinched, though, when he touched her face. "You know exactly who you're dealing with, Montserrat, and I don't want you to crash because of me. You're beautiful, you'll have no problem finding someone good."

His soft smile, coupled with his words, stunned Montserrat. In all her months working at SVU, spending time with him, he'd never been...like this. He was open, he was genuine...he was himself, not the sharp-tongue ADA she'd come to know.

Rafael withdrew his hand from her face and stared at her for a few minutes, almost making a mental picture of how close he had her, how she looked at him with her big, brown eyes...all to remember her, because the next time they would see each other they would be friends and nothing more.

It's over, Montserrat realized. No matter what she did, nor what she said, things were over and they never even really got started. "Okay," she said in a low whisper.

Rafael nodded and turned to leave when a tall, dark haired man walked into the bullpen. The man seemed to be lost until he looked at Rafael, only for Rafael to realize it wasn't him but Montserrat behind him the man was looking at.

"Jonah?" Montserrat blinked several times just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. Her emotions were a bit out of place, after all.

A big smile came to the man's face. "Montserrat! So it was the right place!"

Montserrat hurried towards 'Jonah' to give him a hug, but her eyes were still wide from the shock of seeing him.

"No problem at all," Rafael mumbled under his breath as he walked out of the bullpen.

#ocappreciation #svu #rafael barba #svu fics #rafael barba fics #svu imagines #rafael barba imagines #oc: Montserrat Novak #fic: dare to forget me

24 notes · View notes

holdyourbreathfornow · 4 years

Text

Like Father Like Son (ch.3)

(3rd and final part. I really took some liberties with headcanons, especially with a headcanon I had about Gordon so feel free not to post if it’s too out of touch with your canon. Admittedly kind of phoned it in near the end but I wanted to make sure I didn’t run out of motivation and leave it unfinished)

Coomer double checked the control panel screen displaying Gordon’s vitals for what must have been the hundredth time. He knew they were all stable, but he couldn’t help a bit of parental over-caution.

Gordon had been out of the danger zone of temperature fluctuations since he’d first woken up, briefly, almost nine hours ago. It’s why Coomer’d been able to convince Bubby to finally change over watch of Gordon to him and go to sleep in the first place. He’d assumed that, after alerting everyone to Gordon having no longer been comatose (to everyone’s great relief), Bubby would be glad to finally rest, but instead Coomer had had to argue that there was almost no chance for any kind of relapse at this point for nearly ten minutes before Bubby finally relented (a headlock might also have been involved at some point).

Bubby had been adamant about staying, despite his clear exhaustion, to the point where Coomer almost worried Bubby doubted in his ability to do so himself, but Bubby had gotten cagey when Coomer pressed him for the cause of his hesitancy. He drew into himself and quickly agreed to give up his vigil, hurrying away before Coomer could inquire further.

Certainly not an entirely comforting sign in regards to Bubby’s emotional state, but Coomer couldn’t say he was faring very well himself. He’d barely been able to sleep at all, jerking awake every time he drifted off, thinking he heard the blaring of Gordon’s tube’s vital readout alarm, indicating another temperature spike or drop in blood oxygen levels or erratic heart palpitations.

Coomer hated seeing Gordon in that tube.

He and Bubby had discussed, back when they first conceived (ha!) of the idea of creating their child in a fashion similar to Bubby’s own creation, the likely necessity of supplementary time in a growth tube later on in Joshua’s life. Bubby had needed many throughout his life and, though Gordon’s creation and genetic structure was much more stable than Bubby’s had been initially, due to being based off of existing DNA, instead of entirely from scratch, as Bubby had, it was still likely that, somewhere along the line, his body might need a “tune up”, so to speak.

They’d planned to build him his own tube around ten years old for that purpose, but then…well, they hadn’t ended up needing to.

So now, instead, Gordon floated inside an old tube of Bubby’s they’d specifically made for emergencies, ever since a terrifying incident back when Bubby had first been able to live outside of Black Mesa and they’d moved into this house together. The sudden changes and stress of living outside of Black Mesa for the first time caused Bubby’s molecular structure to almost entirely destabilize.

The frantic drive back to the laboratory, Bubby in the passenger seat, condition rapidly deteriorating, was one of the most frightening experiences of Harold’s life.

Since then, they’d made sure they always had a tube similar to Bubby’s at Black Mesa available outside of the facility. Years of fine tuning had stabilized Bubby’s physical makeup significantly, and eventually they’d moved the tube to storage, not having needed it in many years, but still wanting to have it available in case of emergencies.

Coomer supposed that was part of what made seeing Gordon like this so terrible.

This tube was one tied to painful and terrifying memories. Unlike Gordon’s original one, which was associated with the creation of their child, and even Bubby’s tube at Black Mesa, which at least held memories of how they met, this one was associated only with things going horribly wrong.

And how wrong they’d gone now.

Coomer had seen Gordon hurt before, of course, during the Resonance Cascade, but it had been different this time, to an extent he hadn’t expected.

Since learning of Gordon’s true identity, the memories of every time he’d come to harm, come so close to death, during their journey through Black Mesa and Xen, had haunted him, of course, knowing retroactively that it was his own child that he’d seen so battered and broken.

Coomer hadn’t expected just how different it would be seeing Gordon hurt while already knowing it was his child. He’d felt sick to his stomach, like he was going to break down or pass out. Luckily, Harold Coomer was nothing if not good at compartmentalizing, and had managed to keep it together while they worked to stabilize Gordon.

Now, thankfully, it seemed Gordon was out of the woods. His skin had grown back, to at least some extent, over nearly every burned area, and his temperature was completely stable, if still high. Likely, it was as low as it was going to get without him intentionally lowering it.

Which was precisely why Harold was making very sure everything was in no danger of sudden change for the worse. He needed to leave for a moment to talk to Bubby. Gordon’s temperature was still high enough to simmer the fluid around him and he’d likely need instruction from Bubby on how to control his newly developed powers before he could be released from the tube. The sooner such instruction could begin, the better.

One last check, and Coomer was confident enough to leave Gordon alone long enough to fetch Bubby.

Climbing up the basement stairs into the main hallway, he glanced into the living room.

Benrey and Tommy were fast asleep, leaning shoulder to shoulder on the couch, having apparently worn themselves out with worry.

Coomer smiled. He was glad Gordon had the two of them, it was clear how much they all cared about each other. He didn’t see Bubby in the room however, nor in the connected kitchen, so he didn’t dwell there.

He headed towards the room to his and Bubby’s room, but paused as he reached the door. He could hear a faint noise coming from inside like a soft sniffling and uneven breathing–

Oh.

He opened the door just a crack to see Bubby sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands and body shaking with soft sobs he was clearly trying to muffle.

Coomer rapped his knuckles against the door.

Bubby startled, and whipped his head around to see Coomer. His face was red and his cheeks streaked with tears.

“Fuck–I-” Bubby roughly wiped at his face to clear away the tears, and fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand. “Harold, I didn’t…I didn’t hear you…”

Coomer simply sat on the bed next to him as he composed himself.

“How’s…how is he?” Bubby asked, after clearing his throat. He stared at the floor, not looking towards Coomer.

“He’s stable. Tissue regrowth is coming along well. He’s as stable as I think he’ll be able to get until he can bring his temperature down,” Coomer replied. “I think it’s best to start teaching him to control it sooner rather than later. If he can learn at least how to regulate his temperature while he’s still in there, he’s far less likely to lose control again as soon as he comes out of the tube. You can work on teaching him all your flashier tricks once he’s out.”

Coomer chuckled, lightly.

Bubby, however, only turned even further away from him.

“Do…do you think that we could…” Bubby trailed off, then started again. “That tube is made for post decanting genetic alteration. If we could just…if we could nullify or remove the gene responsible for pyrokinesis…”

“What?!” Coomer cried, agape. “Bubby you can’t be serious! You know better than anyone the risks involved with that! That tube is made for emergency stabilization, not tampering with genetic code when there’s no reason!”

“No reason? There’s a damn good reason!” Bubby said, turning at last to face Coomer. “Look at him! Look at what’s happened to him! That’s the reason!”

“But you’re living proof that’s something that he can control! Something that doesn’t have to hurt him!”

“You don’t–you couldn’t understand!”

“The fucking hell I couldn’t!” Coomer snapped. “He’s my son, too! You think it doesn’t break my heart seeing him like this?”

“But it isn’t your–!” Bubby cut himself off.

“My what?”

Bubby grit his teeth.

“My what, Bubby?!”

“YOUR FAULT! IT ISN’T YOUR FAULT!”

Any rage that had been building in Coomer was doused instantly.

“Not my…Bubby, do you think…?” he stammered, almost at a loss for words. “This isn’t your fault, Bubby.”

Bubby stood up, sharply, hands gripping at the side of his head.

“Don’t you see?!” he cried. “Everything that’s happened to him is my fault! Everything that’s happened since I included my DNA in his design. I should never have included my DNA. I didn’t want to! I told you I didn’t want to! Why? Why did I let you convince me?!”

Tears were streaming down Bubby’s face again.

“We agreed to include both our genetic codes together!” Coomer said. “We wanted a child. One that was both of us, not a clone. I’ve had enough of those. We wanted a child that would be like us both.”

“Don’t you understand? He is like me! And I wouldn’t wish those words on anyone!” Bubby sobbed. “Seeing him like that I just–Everything they did to me. Everything they put me through–they would have done it to him, too. All the awful tests, all the cruelty, all the pain, oh god…he went through it all. Because of me! They took him because of me!”

“Bubby, we’ve talked about this a thousand times, he was sick and we were both scared. It wasn’t–”

“Not just that! I read it in his file! It wasn’t happenstance, Harold! They targeted him! Because he was on their record! Because he was…” Bubby’s voice broke. “Because he was mine. They took him because he was mine…”

He choked out a sob.

“They took him and they hurt him in every way they hurt me, and more. And now he finally gets out…and he’s just hurt more. Because he’s like me. Because he inherited my powers,” Bubby hugged his arms around himself, shaking. “Pain and misery…is all he got, all he could have ever gotten, from having me as a father…”

Coomer stood, slowly, from the bed, and placed a gentle hand on Bubby’s arm.

“Tell me how your powers work,” he said.

“You know how they work.”

“Tell me again.”

Bubby shook his head.

“I-I don’t–I can’t talk about that now,” he choked.

“Bubby, please,” Harold said, insistent.

“I…I absorb direct and…and ambient thermal and electromagnetic radiation and expend it at will, controlling…controlling my external temperature to induce localized combustion,” Bubby said, voice still shaking.

“What do you absorb?” Harold asked, his voice lilting as to imply a conclusion Bubby wasn’t drawing, but Bubby wasn’t in the mood for guessing at it.

“Damn, it Harold, why are you asking this now?” he snapped.

“Just say it one more time, out loud. Please, Bubby.”

“For the love of God, thermal radia–”

Bubby cut off as the pieces finally clicked into place.

“Radiation,” he breathed. “I absorb radiation.”

Coomer smiled, softly, as he saw realization dawn on Bubby’s face.

“Gordon absorbs radiation!” Bubby exclaimed, grabbing Coomer by the shoulders. “He absorbs Xen radiation! His cells absorb and expend it instead of being destroyed by it! He didn’t die from being sent to Xen because he absorbs Xen radiation! He didn’t die because…because…”

“Because he’s like you,” Coomer finished. “I had my suspicions from the moment they explained how Gordon was able to build up a tolerance from just the exposure to Benrey’s low levels of Xen radiation, and with so few negative repercussions. Once this happened, my suspicions were all but confirmed.”

Bubby released Coomer’s shoulders and sat heavily back down on the bed, as if his legs had been turned to gelatin. His eyes, red and puffy from crying, were wide with disbelief.

“They took him because they were cruel and evil people,” Coomer said. “He lived because he’s your son.”

He gently cupped Bubby’s cheek and guided his face up to look him in the eye.

“And your son needs you now,” he said. “Not to try to remove any trace of yourself from his genetic code. To show him how to accept and control what he inherited from you.”

Bubby breathed in a deep, steadying breath and nodded.

–

When Bubby returned to the basement, Gordon was just blinking his eyes open again.

With his facial skin growing back rapidly, his cheekbones no longer looked so gaunt and pronounced, but Bubby still saw his own defined bone structure reflected in them.

Not entirely alike, but not entirely different.

Not entirely a stranger, but not entirely himself.

Someone who was a mix of things that weren’t him, and of things that were.

For the first time, Bubby felt like that might not be a curse after all.

#submission #you can't see it but I'm rubbing my hands together and cackling manically #i love these so much!!!#AND THE SCIENCE #DIFFERENT KINDS OF RADIATION BEING ABSORBED CAUSES BOTH THE PYROKINESIS AND GORDON'S XEN DEPENDENCY #YOU'RE A GENIUS #family of three au

4 notes · View notes

chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary -Chapter 43

Warnings: marital issues, Tyler being an asshole, angst

Tagging: @alievans007m @thunderintheshadows, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @valkyrie-of-the-light

“I really wish you'd change your mind,” Esme says, as she lies on her stomach in the middle of the rumpled bed, clad in one of his t-shirts, elbows propped on the mattress and her chin resting in on her clasped hands. Watching as he steps into a fresh pair of jeans; hair still damp from the shower he'd taken following their love making; it had been intense and passionate, a hint of desperation in every kiss, touch, and thrust. And afterwards she'd clung to him; arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body, anxious to keep him right where he was. Where he was warm and safe and she could rest comfortably not only in his arms, feeling his heart beating against hers, the way his chest rose and fell with each steady breath. “About me coming with you.”

“We talked about this,” Tyler reminds her, as he tends to the zipper and button and buckles his belt. “About why I don't want you there.”

“You think you'll be too distracted because you'll spend the whole time worrying about me.”

“I don't think I will be. I know I will be.”

“You weren't distracted when we were working together in Dhaka,” she points out.

“A lot of things have changed since Dhaka,” Tyler counters.

“You were just fucking me back then. Now you're married to me, fucking me, and putting babies in me.”

He frowns.

“That was meant as a joke, Tyler. It was a horrible one, I admit. But it was still a joke. I could wait outside.”

“No. You can't.”

“I could be across the street, just keeping an eye on things, making sure you come out safe.”

“There's lot of people keeping their eyes on things. We don't need your eyes there, too.”

“I don't have to be right there, you know. I don't have to be right in the vicinity. I could be around the corner or a block away...” she tries again.

“Esme...I said no,” he tugs a black t-shirt over his head. “We talked about it, I told you why it wasn't a good idea, you were fine with that. Drop it.”

“I was fine at the time. But now there's an hour to go and I'm not so fine anymore. This isn't a one way street, you know. You're not the only person that's worried about something going wrong. I'm just as worried about you as you are about me. You think I want you to be doing this? You think I'm okay with you going to meet this asshole? I'd rather you just leave it to someone else.”

He sighs, then grabs his boots from the hall closet and sits down on the edge of the bed. “There is no one else.”

“There is always someone else. Are you telling me that there's one person that's capable of just grabbing him and holding onto him until the IRA make up their mind? That you're the only one who can get the job done? Get one of Mark's people to do it. It doesn't have to be you.”

“Yes, it does. I'm the one he wants dead, yeah? I'm the one that called him to meet? He isn't going to show up for anyone else...so...” his patience is running thin, temper already on a slow boil, and he angrily shoves a foot into one of the boots.

“I just don't want you going into this alone,” she says. “Someone should be with you.”

“Someone will be. Let it go.”

“Someone will be across the street and in the back alley. They're not going to be with you, with you. Why can't someone sit in the bar, at a different table, keeping an eye on things?”

“Because even the smallest fuck up could tip McMann off and then everything will be blown to shit. I can't believe I have to tell you this. You've done this before. The job. You know how things work.”

“And what are you going to do with him once you get him? That's the part I don't understand? Where do you take him? If you've got to hold him until the IRA makes up their mind...”

“Mark's in charge of that,” he lies. “Once I get him, Mark and his boys are going to take things from there. I'm just there to lure him in. That's it.”

“What are they going to do with him?”

Tyler shrugs.

“So you're just going to hand him over and you have no idea what they're going to do with him?”

“I didn't ask. It's not my fucking business. I don't care what they do with him.”

“I mean, they have to keep him somewhere. What are they going to do? Tie him and leave him in a locker or something?” she laughs at the mere mention of it, and he feels his entire body tense. “Don't you remember that show? We watched it together. About the guy that kept the girl in the Plexiglas box in his store basement? And the second season he used one of those storage lockers? His name was John or Jeff or Joe or something like that.”

“Maybe...I don't know...it sounds familiar,” his hands are gripping the laces way too tight; the fabric biting into his fingers.

“Joe,” she concludes. “It was Joe. Are they going to do something like that? Where else are they going to keep him? You can't keep him out in plain sight. Or in a hotel. That would draw way too much attention. Why don't they just go and drop him in the middle of IRA territory and leave him there? Save everyone the trouble.”

“I don't know, okay? I don't know what they're putting him or what they're planning to do with him and I honestly don't give a fuck. So can you just...please....stop talking about it.”

“You'd think they'd at least tell you. You're the one responsible for him. If the IRA says yes, you're the one that has to pass him over. What if one of these Marines goes batshit crazy over his dead buddy and kills him? Then you're fucked. And not the good kind of fucked, either.”

“It won't happen. They won't kill him.”

“Revenge is a powerful motivator,” she reasons. “I wouldn't blame them if they did. Or if you did.”

“No one is going to kill him. That's up to the IRA.”

“What if they don't want him?”

“I'll worry about it then. What the fuck with the twenty questions? Did I not just tell you to stop talking about this? Would you cut me slack here? Could you just shut the fuck up for five seconds? Jesus Christ.”

She frowns. “What the hell is your problem? One minute you're sweet and loving and worshipping me and then you're biting my head off. I get your stressed. I get there's a lot riding on this. That you're worried about the kids and Ovi and Chloe. But they're my kids too, you know.”

“No. I don't know that. I don't remember fucking you and putting those kids in you. I don't remember being there when they were born. I have no idea who you are. I've never seen you before.”

“What the hell is going on, Tyler? How can you change so drastically? Half an hour ago we were making love and everything coming out of your mouth was beautiful and amazing and now you're talking like this to me? What is going on?”

“Nothing. Nothing is going on. I'm just a little on edge.”

“You think? You've been a complete fucking prick since you got out of the shower. I know you're on edge. I get that. This is huge. And a lot of things are riding on this. But I'm not the enemy here, Tyler. I'm not one of the bad people. So don't talk to me like I'm some garbage in the street.”

“I'm not...” he snaps, then takes a deep breath and releases is slowly, attempting to compose himself. “... I'm not talking to you like that.”

“Okay so maybe you're not talking to me like garbage in the street. Maybe you're talking to me like you used to talk to all the different whores you were fucking before I came along. I'm not your whore, Tyler. I'm your wife.”

“Esme, stop. Before you say something that you're going to regret. Before you say something that you're not going to be able to take back. Enough of this shit. Enough of the questions, enough with picking fights, enough with deliberately trying to piss me off. Just enough.”

“For the record, you started this,” she informs him, as she switches positions on the bed, angrily beating her fist against one of the pillows and then slamming it down onto the mattress before lying down on her side, back towards him. “You've been acting like a total asshole since you got out of the shower. I understand you're stressed. I do. But I'm fucking stressed too. And I'm the one that has to keep another human being alive inside of her. Which by the way, is your goddamn fault.”

Sighing heavily, Tyler runs his hands over his weary face and glances over his shoulder at his wife. He wants to tell her. Desperately. He wants to confess all of the sins that haven't been committed yet. He wants to ask for forgiveness for becoming the person he'd said he'd never become; the one consumed by rage, driven by the need for revenge, with no remorse or compassion for the actions he's about to take. But he can't. He can't do that to her. Not right now. Not when she's the most vulnerable; a baby inside of her, his baby. When she's already so stressed and so worried about their other kids. When she's already consumed with fear surrounding what could go wrong when he goes to meet Michael McMann. He can't add anything more to her plate. He can't burden her with his problems. She doesn't need to know. What his true plans are. The truth would only scare her. And the last thing he wants is for her to be afraid of him.

****

“Babe...” he reaches for her, and she yanks her leg away as his fingertips come in contact with her thigh. “...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I didn't mean to treat you like that. Talk to you like that. I'm sorry.”

“Go away,” she sniffles. “Leave me alone. Go and do whatever stupid shit you're going to do. It's what you'll do anyway. It doesn't matter what I say or how much I worry about you. I can't save you, Tyler. Not when you're so hell bent on killing yourself.”

“That's not who I am anymore. I haven't been that person in five and a half years. You know that.”

“Nothing's changed. You said it would change. You said you would change. When we separated and I asked you to come back. Because I missed you and your kids missed you. You told me this would change. This life. When is it going to happen? Why does this change kick in? Because I'm still waiting.”

“I told you. After this, I'm done. I'm taking that job Nik offered. I won't have to do this anymore. At least not at this kind of pace. I'll be home more. With you and the kids. We'll be a family. A proper family.”

“I can't keep doing this. Living like this. I shouldn't have to feel like a single mother.”

“No,” he admits. “You shouldn't. And I fucking hate that you do.”

“We're having another baby. This will be number five. Five under six. I can't do this by myself. I just can't. I need you home. I've needed you home since the twins were born. Tanner was barely out of the hospital...after being sick for almost two months and near death twice...and you still went back to the job. I had three kids under two, I had severe postpartum depression and I wanted to kill myself and you still took a job. When I needed you the most.”

“We needed the money,” the excuse sounds feeble to his own ears. “We had all those bills from the hospital and all the other normal crap like a mortgage and utilities and all that shit. I had to keep a roof over you and our kids' heads. Food on the table. That wasn't going to happen unless I took a job. What did you want me to do? Let you guys starve? Move back in with your parents? Fuck that. I wasn't letting you or my kids live like that. So I'm sorry. That I did what I had to do for my family.”

“And what would have happened if you'd been killed? If you'd never come home? We would have lost everything anyway and the kids and I still would have ended up at my parents. So that argument is bullshit and you know it. I love you. So much it hurts sometimes. But don't pretend you haven't made some shitty fucking decisions.”

“I didn't make those decisions to hurt you. I made them because I felt it was what I needed to do. For you. For our kids. Do I feel like shit making them? Of course I do. Do I fucking hate myself for feeling like I abandoned you when you needed me the most? Every fucking day. But I do the things I do because I love you.”

“You should love me enough not to do them,” she counters. “When does it stop, Tyler? When do you say enough is enough? When do you finally put your family first?”

“Like I said,” he turns sideways on the bed, a hand on her hip, softly stroking it through the fabric of the t-shirt. “After this is over, I'm taking that job with Nik and things will change. I'll change.”

“Will you? Is that job going to be enough for you? How long will it be before you start to get the itch to get back into the game again? Six months? A year? Two years?”

“I won't be going back. Once I take this job, that's it. I'm done. For good.”

“I hope so,” she says. “Because I don't know if I can do this anymore.”

He has no idea what to say. If she even wants him to say anything. So he remains silent; his hand rubbing her, giving it a squeeze before sliding around to her stomach. Where that new life is growing inside of her. And she sniffles noisily and lays her hand over his; the white gold of their wedding bands pressed together.

“I love you, Tyler. But the time is going to come where I need to love myself more. Where I need to love our kids more,” she speaks through tears now, her entire body trembling.

He stretches out behind her on the bed, on his hand, hand still on her stomach, and he slides his other arm between her and the pillow. Allowing her head to nestle in the crook of his elbow. “I love you,” he says, and places a kiss on her temple. “And I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I didn't.”

“I've never felt that you didn't. I've never doubted it. But that doesn't mean I wasn't hurt by some of the things you've done. Some of the the things you've said. And I know I've hurt you too. And I'll never forgive myself for that.”

“Babe, don't to this. Don't do this to yourself. We've both fucked up. We've been said things we never should have said. But things could be so much worse. We could be so much worse.”

“Things need to change. We need to change. Both of us. This isn't all on you so please don't think I'm placing all the blame on you.”

“Most of it should be placed on me,” he admits. “Most of it is my fault.”

“I don't want this breaking us. The job. I thought I could handle it. I thought I was okay with you being involved still. But I'm not. And it's not fair to you to keep pretending I am. And if you'd rather the job me and the kids...”

He scowls. “That's not what I want. That's the last thing I want and you know it. I don't want to lose you. Or my kids. This is it. The last job. Once it's over, I take what Nik offered me and we go on with our lives.”

“I can't keep watching you walk out the front door and then spending the entire time you're gone wondering if you're going to walk back in it. Because every time you leave, you take a piece of my heart with you. And I'm worried I'll never get those pieces back.”

He presses his lips against the back of her head, tightens the grip on her hand as it rests on her stomach. “It's going to be okay,” he vows. “Things will change. I'll change. I promise.”

She sniffles noisily. “It's not just you that needs to change.”

“It's mostly be. And it doesn't hurt to hear it or admit it. It's the truth. I've been a shitty husband.”

“No. You haven't. You've had shitty moments. Just like I've had shitty moments as a wife.”

“More good than shitty though,” he assures her, and she presses a kiss to the inside of his forearm.

“I don't want to let you go,” she says. “But if this continues...this life...I'll have to. Because our kids deserve better. I deserve better. And so do you. If this kind of life you want, than you need to find someone that is far more accepting than I am.”

“I don't want to find anyone else. I want you. Only you.”

*****

For several minutes neither of them speak. The brutal honesty and the severity of the situation hanging heavily in the air. Their hands tightly clasped together, their eyes closed. He's known; that things weren't great. That despite the supportive and understanding front she puts forth, part of her hates what he does. That there's a linger animosity and bitterness just below the surface.

“I'm hormonal as fuck,” she suddenly complains, and he can't help but chuckle. “I'm sorry. For being so irrational.”

“You weren't irrational. You were truthful. It was things I needed to hear. And I am sorry. For making you feel like you're a single mum sometimes. For making you feel like I don't appreciate you or that I take you for granted. Because I do. Appreciate you. You're the one that's holding everything together most of the time.”

“I'm tired,” she admits. “Physically and mentally. I just want to go home. I want to go home and get our kids back and have a normal life. Well, somewhat of a normal life. Whatever normal is for us, I guess.”

“Babe, I love you, but there's nothing normal about you.”

“Dick,” she mutters, and directs an elbow at his stomach.

“Who wants normal anyway? Normal is boring. I'll take slightly unhinged and moody as fuck any day of the week over normal.”

“You shouldn't talk about yourself like that. You're stubborn and temperamental, but I wouldn't go as far as calling you unhinged or moody as fuck.”

He grins. “Now who's being a dick?”

She rolls over onto her back, and he slides his arm out from underneath the back of her head and uses his index and middle finger to clear the remnants of tears off her cheeks.

“I hate that,” he says. “Seeing you cry. It fucking breaks me every time.”

“It's the hormones. They've always been bad but they've never been this bad. Must be a boy.”

“You were never this bad with any of the boys, so nice try.”

“You think I was worse with Millie?”

“Way worse. Way, way, way worse. I thought it was normal, until you were having the twins and I realized just how bad you were the first time.”

“The twins were brutal in a different way though. Health wise.”

“Yeah, those blokes have been causing nothing but trouble from the very start. Second they were conceived they started their shit. And they're still carrying on.”

“Don't act like it isn't your greatest accomplishment. You wanted a son and you ended up with two at the same time. You were so goddamn proud of yourself after we found out it was twins. Walking around with that goofy ass grin you get, bragging to everyone that you managed to put two babies in me. Like it was something modern day miracle.”

“Well, it kind of was. Considering less than two years before I nearly died. They shouldn't even be here. I shouldn't even be here.”

“Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you are. Even if I'm a total bitch sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Fuck you, Tyler,” she laughs. “I can, and I will, kill you in your sleep.”

“I'd like to see you try. You know I wake up if a mouse farts, so how would you manage to get one up on me? And besides,” his hand settles on her stomach once again, the tip of his nose pressed against her temple. “You wouldn't kill me. You'd miss me too much.”

“Yeah, I would. When you manage to find awesome dick you have to hold onto it.”

“I guess I better keep up on my skills so you don't have a reason to kill me. Or you don't run off and find someone else who can dick you down better.”

“Oh please. There is no one out there that can dick me down better than you can. If there's one thing you're exceptional at...”

“Just one thing?”

“Okay...” she grins. “....there's a couple things.”

He rubs the tip of his nose against her ear, kisses her temple. “I still think it's a girl,” he says.

“Because of this dream you had?”

Tyler nods.

“Must have been a hell of a dream if you're still talking about it three days later.”

“It felt so...I don't know...real. Like it was actually happening. I could hear the waves and the kids laughing. I could smell the ocean and feel the sand between my toes. And we had another baby. A girl. She looked just like you. She was tiny and had dark hair and huge brown eyes. It was so real, babe. Like it was a sign.”

“We were in Australia?”

“Yep. At the beach we always used to go to. Remember the first time we took Millie? How much she loved it? She was just tiny then. Like just freshly hatched.”

“She was two weeks old. I was tired of being stuck in the apartment so we took her to the beach. So I wouldn't lose any more of my sanity.”

“You didn't have much left to lose. You barely had any when we met.”

“Which would explain why I ever let you seduce me in the first place,” she retorts. “Baby, it's so cute how you keep trying to get one up on me. But I'm too quick for you. You think you'd have learned that after five and a half years.”

“One day,” he vows. “It'll happen one day.”

“And the sky will open and the angels will sing,” she teases, and places a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I remember you wading out into the water with her. It was so cute. You had her so tight against your chest and she was so tiny and you were big and strong and it was honestly the sweetest thing to see. She had you wrapped around her finger even then. She's a daddy's girl, through and through.”

“You're still salty about that?”

“No. It's beautiful, actually. Seeing this big, tough guy with his little girl. It's a side of you I never expected to see. You have these two very distinct sides to you. You've got the job Tyler and you've got daddy Tyler. They're just so different yet so similar at the same time. I can't explain it. I just know I like it. Being able to see all the different sides of you while everyone else just gets to see one.”

“Some people would say that it makes me soft. Having that other side.”

“If that isn't some Gaspar shit, I don't know what is.”

“He was a good friend. Until he wasn't.”

It was the first time in his life that someone had wounded him that badly. When someone he'd put all of his trust and his faith in had turned around and betrayed him. A mixture of rage, disbelief, and hurt flooding through him the second Gaspar had revealed his friendship with Asif. That he'd gone to him and arranged a deal. Ten million dollars they'd split if Tyler would give up the kid and the girl.

That was never going to happen.

He's never told her. That the deal had been for Ovi and her. Some things are just better left unspoken.

“I didn't even know him that well and I hate him,” she says. “For what he did to you. For betraying you like that. He tried to kill you. And you were his friend. He was going to kill you to get to Ovi. That is messed up.”

“Money is a powerful motivator,” Tyler reasons.

“You saved his life. And that's how he repays you? Trying to take yours? That's fucked up. Is it wrong that I'm actually glad that Ovi killed him?”

“No, babe. That's not wrong.” Because Gaspar would have killed Ovi and you, he thinks, and he squeezes his eyes shut in a vain attempt to push the memory away. There was even the chance that Gaspar would have handed her over to Asif alive. And those results would have been far worse than a quick death.

“He was a true mercenary,” she says. “In every sense of the word. He fit the stereotype. Cold. Ruthless. Vicious. That's what most of them are like. Or least the ones that I worked with in the past. You're different. You've always been different. You've always been...I don't know...human.”

“Yeah, well I've done some pretty ruthless and vicious things. So...”

“Because you had to. Not because you get some kind of sick, perverse pleasure out of it. Some of these guys enjoy killing people. They practically get off on it. Gaspar was like that. He didn't even have to open his mouth and you could just tell. It's in the eyes. Always in the eyes. Your eyes have never been that way. That's where all your emotions are. Your eyes.”

“If you even bring up how people say I have 'the look' when it comes to you...”

She laughs. “Deny it all you want, Tyler. It's there. Everyone notices it. It's there whether you like it or not. Even Tanis mentioned it today.”

“Bullshit.”

“She did!” Esme insists. “I would not lie about that. She was talking about the guy she's seeing....”

“That Zak bloke?”

“How'd you know about that?”

“He doesn't shut the fuck up about her. Every time we'd stop talking about the job, he'd get on this kick about her. I wanted to strangle him. Tell him it's a trap. Don't fall for it, mate. Because they'll get their claws into you and you won't stand a chance.”

“Speaking from experience?”

He pecks her lips. “Obviously.”

“She seems pretty crazy about him. And he seems like a nice enough guy. She had an ex like mine. It's really screwed her up. The same way it's screwed me up. I told her that it's going to take some time. To get over it. And that sometimes you never do. I'm still dealing with it and it's been ten years. But it's a lot easier to deal with it when you don't have to deal with it alone.”

“I got you, babe. You know that. I got you.”

She smiles and kisses him. Long and soft. “You are a man among men, Tyler Rake.”

“There ain't no other men like me.”

“You can say that again. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing...”

“Good thing for you. Bad thing for the other women out there. You get me all to yourself.”

“Oh joy! I get the dirty laundry on the bedroom floor and the stinky gym socks and you're even stinkier boots. Speaking of which,” she glances down towards the end of the bed. “Do you actually have the fucking gall to lie in bed with those things on? What is wrong with you? Do you know where those things have been?”

“Up a few asses. They're clean. It'd be worse if they were the same pair I wore in the sewer in Dhaka.”

“Oh God...” she makes a dramatic gagging noise. “...just thinking about that...”

“I wonder what happened to those boots. Those were my favourite pair.”

“I threw them out. Along with all your other shit they gave me at the hospital. There was no saving them. They were beyond saving. I'm sorry.”

“Nothing a little soap and water couldn't have fixed.”

“Oh yeah right. They flat lined. I couldn't bring them back to life. Despite my best efforts. You should have burned them the second we got out of that sewer. Oh God...” she gags again. “...now I can smell it again. It's like it's permanently etched into my sinuses. How does it not bother you? Do you not remember what that smelled like?”

“Yeah, it smelled like ass. A million asses, actually.”

“And the rats...the sound of them....” she shudders. “How we didn't end up with cholera or the plague, I will never know. We should have thrown Gaspar down there. He would have fit right in with the vermin. I swear it took me a week to get that smell out of my hair. You should have seen the way the nurses and the doctors looked at me. They probably could smell it.”

“It was not that bad.”

“Like shit it wasn't. You were even gagging and retching. So it was that bad. Remind me to never again follow you into a dark, smelly place. That's twice now. First the smelliest sewer on the planet, then the dead body in McMann's bunker thing. I am never...ever...letting you talk me into something like that again. Because I will puke on you and I won't feel even the slightest bit of remorse.”

“That's evil. The small ones really are the most vicious.”

“They're the ones that keep the giants like you in line.”

He grins. “I just let think you're keeping me in line.”

She snorts. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. We all know who runs the show.”

“Me.”

“You wish!”

“You're five foot nothing and you weight a buck twenty soaking wet and you really think you can be the boss?”

“I'm five foot two and three quarters, actually. And I weigh a buck twenty three, I'll have you know.”

“I have a foot and a quarter on you and about ninety pounds. If not more. And you think you run things?”

“Listen buddy, I don't think it. I know it. I have the ultimate weapon to use against you. And I will use it. So don't tempt me.”

“You're going to knee me in the balls? Or should I say head butt because you're so goddamn short. You're like an angry goat. Gonna head butt me in the nuts.”

“An angry goat?” she laughs. “Did you seriously just call me an angry goat?”

“I was going to call you a hobbit but you love that movie and you'd take it as a compliment, so....”

“You're a goddamn Sasquatch and you have the nerve to call me an angry goat? You have the biggest feet I've ever seen...which you've passed on to your kids, thank you very much...and you're built like the Jolly Green Giant. Yet you have the balls to make fun of my height?”

“Listen, just because you need a step ladder to get up onto the bed, don't take your short people rage out on me.”

“You're a fucking dick,” she's laughing as she says it, and he lays his hand on her stomach and leans in to kiss her. Longer this time. But tender and sweet. Then he checks his watch and frowns.

“You gotta go,” she sighs.

“I gotta go.”

“Be careful. Please. Because despite all of our issues, I'd really like you to come back in one piece. So if you could do that for me...”

“I'll be back,” he assures, and places a kiss on her forehead. “Everything's going to be okay. It's all going to go as planned. Trust me.”

“I do. Trust you.” She lays a hand on the side of his face as he kisses her one last time before climbing off the bed. And she pushes herself up onto her elbows and watches as he gathers the last of his things; car keys, wallet, both cell phone and SAT. Then slides the holster -already loaded with the Glock- onto the waist band of his jeans. “You're kinda sexy, you know. When you're heading out to kick some ass.”

“I'm only sexy when I'm going to kick some ass?”

“No. You're sexy all the time. But you're exceptionally sexy when you're going to hand someone their ass. Please be careful, Tyler.”

“I will be. Get some rest, okay? I know you're worried about me, but you need to take it easy. And try to eat something. That baby needs her momma to be healthy.”

“Already calling it her, huh? That must have been some dream. Don't trust him. Not even for one second. If he even gets the slightest chance to hurt you...”

“He won't. He won't stand a chance,” he opens the hotel room door, then pauses before stepping out in the hallway, turning to give her a small, reassuring smile. “I'll see you when I see you.”

“Hopefully sooner rather than later,”

He nods in agreement, then steps out into the hall and shuts the door behind him.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #sanctuary #extraction #chris hemsworth character

17 notes · View notes

interstelleo · 3 years

Text

catch me and watch me

alex has to help jack pack for tour, but his eyes stumble onto more than an empty suitcase

2,459 words

alex knocked on the door to jack’s apartment, not waiting to open it. he and jack had always been close enough that they never needed to. plus he already knew he was coming over to help him pack. jack was not the best with being prepared for things and tour was not an exception. he was a little surprised to see that he wasn’t on his couch as per usual. he decided that the next best place to check would be the bedroom.

the thing that surprised him was not that jack had left the door open, nor was it the fact that he was jerking off. no, alex’s eyes widened at the other part, the sounds. there were two main things he could hear. the first, the sounds coming from jack himself. soft groans, heavy breathes, nothing new about those. the second thing though, was his own voice? and really, he had to do a double take because jack was jerking off to some random video of him?

alex listened in on it, hiding behind the wall so jack couldn’t see him if he happened to look up. it took him a moment to remember when he’d said those slurred words, but eventually it came to him. it was one of those rare times that they had two off days in a row. the band and crew went out for drinks, and if his barely there memories of that night served him well, at this point they were back on the bus. alex remembered quickly stripped, only putting his jeans back on after removing his boxers before starting to dance sexually. it would’ve been a striptease, but he’d already got almost nothing on and matt wasn’t going to let him take his jeans off.

alex bit his lip to stop a half-laugh, half-whimper at the fact that jack had not only secretly recorded him, but also got off on it. he’d always enjoyed people looking at him, part of the reason he always wore his too-tight skinny jeans. not helping his case was the fact that this was jack, his best friend, bandmate, and guy he’d had a crush on since eighth grade.

before his brain caught up with him, he found himself peering back into the room. jack looked hot as always, and the soft growls coming from his lips were turning alex on more than he realized. a minute or so, as alex would guess, passed before he realized his hand had unbutton and zipped his jeans, giving him better access to his own cock which he was now stroking. it didn’t take long for his imagination to kick in and provide him with the perfect idea.

jack clearly liked watching him, as shown by the bright red, leacking tip of his cock. alex also knew that he’d always wanted jack to catch him doing intimate things. he wasn’t sure why but the few times it had happened were drilled in his mind, and nothing even came from them. he always imaged what might’ve happened had jack stayed in the room. he hoped there’d be some watching, maybe fucking. that idea was still laden in his head, and now he had the perfect opportunity.

really, the couch being directly across from jacks bedroom was too perfect. sure, he thought while sitting down on the near end, he’s going to see me eventually, but he could look up now, or he could look up after a he takes a nap or something. that was all he needed to get his hand back on his now rock hard member. he couldn’t wait for jack to see him sitting there on his couch, watching the scene with a hand working his exposed length. it took a lot of him not to make any sounds. alex was naturally vocal and this was, no question, the hottest thing he’d ever done. he felt fucking filthy getting off to jack jerking himself off to a video he didn’t know existed while jack didn’t even know he was in his apartment at all, and he fucking loved it. he loved that jack was going to see him strung out on his couch, knowing that the situation was the thing that did it for him. he loved that jack wanted him in at least on of the ways he wanted him. he loved that the situation was so incredibly obscene.

alex’s eyes stayed locked on jack’s cock while his ears listened intently to the noises coming from his throat while fisting himself harder and faster than he’d probably ever done. in fact he was so focused on those three things, that he never noticed that he’d accidentally let out a moan and jack had heard it. the fist on jack’s cock never stalled as he looked at the blonde, fucked out on his couch, panting for release. his mind raced as he put together the situation. once he had, he smirked. alex liked that he was watching a video of him, and seemingly a lot.

jack laid his phone down on the bed next to him, slowly in case alex noticed it, though he was fairly certain his eyes were only on his dick. he decided to test something when he didn��t react. his motion changed from stroking to thrusting up into his hand. he refrained from laughing as alex let out a high pitch whine, startling himself. his eyes widened, hearing the noise he’d made, and he caught jacks gaze. his pupils were fully dilated and he had that smirk on his face. his mind ran with what to do or say, but no words came out of his mouth. his fist just kept working his throbbing cock desperately.

jack laughed at him. alex looked so dirty with how bad he clearly needed to cum soon, laid out on jack’s own fucking couch. then he made the decision that they were fucking, but not until he had his fun with him. “you’re fucking flithy, gaskarth,” he spoke, voice low and raspy, “look at you, getting off to the fact that i took a video of you, just so i could jerk my own cock to it. i can’t believe you’re that much of a fucking whore.”

alex only whined, wanting more. he didn't really care if the more included degrading him until he begged jack to let him cum or if the more included jack fucking him raw, but he wanted more. “please,” he whimpered.

jack chuckled again because honestly? he never thought alex would be that into degrading. “get up, slut. hands off,” he spoke sharply. “you have 30 seconds to be fully stripped.”

alex obeyed, slight fear flashing through his eyes for a moment. he worried that maybe jack didn’t want this quite like he did, but then he was being told to strip, and surely that meant something. he pulled his jeans off in record time, throwing all his clothes back onto the now abandoned couch. he held his own wrist behind his back, feeling exposed. he didn’t mind it, though. in fact, he was pretty sure he felt his cock twitch against his stomach when jack looked him up and down like a piece of meat.

“spin,” jack instructed, making a motion with the hand that had since left his cock. if alex liked to be viewed in a sexual light, he was going to be seen. jack was horny and alex was hot and getting off on it. it’s a win-win, really. alex did as he was asked, spinning in a slow circle, making sure to keep his hands out of the way. jack’s goal was clearly to see all of him, and he wasn’t about to make it seem like he wasn’t into the idea because he most certainly wanted to see where this went.

jack didn’t speak as he stilled, facing the doorway again. instead he brought his hand to his lips and spit in it. he kept his eyes scanning alex’s body as he brought it back to his aching length. he wrapped his hand around the tip tightly and started making small movements with his hips. “you like this, don’t you? you’re so exposed out there. what if someone walked in, lex?” he purred. “you look so good, i might have to invite them to join the viewing.”

alex nodded half-heartedly. he liked the thought more than he’d like to admit, but jack was slowly adding more thrust and he just wanted that to be his ass. he wanted jack to use his spit as lube and fuck him raw. he wanted him to watch how good he was at taking it, how his hole stretched and burned open for him. his vision became hazy, aside from the scene he was watching so intently.

jack knew alex like the back of his hand, and maybe they hadn’t done this before, but with how obedient he was being, he knew the blonde was falling into submission. he was glad that alex trusted him that much, but he pushed the thought aside to tell him later. his hips were making deep, slow thrusts now. “come here,” he instructed. “daddy wants to see the pretty hole he’s gonna be playing with.”

alex made his way over, eager to have jack in him. he bent over somewhat beside him, allowing him to do whatever he wished. jack spread his cheeks, looking at his prize. alex was perfect and his hole was so inviting. he pushed alex’s back down, with a little force, but not enough to really hurt him. he gave a light test slap to one cheek, smirking at the sharp moan he heard from below him. leaning over, he spread him open again and spit directly on his hole, stopping it from dripping out with his thumb. “do you want me to stretch you, baby?” he asked, sincerely. he didn’t want to actually hurt him.

alex shook his head quickly. he’d fingered himself earlier, so it wasn’t going to hurt as much as it could. even if he hadn’t he was so fucking horny, he didn’t think he’d care. “i can take it, daddy, please. i’ve wanted you in my ass for so long. just want you to watch me stretch around you. please,” he begged.

jack couldn’t say no to that. “ride me, you cock slut.” he pulled his hands away, grabbing the lube off his bedside table as alex climbed up onto his lap. he lubed himself up generously, hoping it helped on alex’s part. he helped line them up, before letting go so he could go at his own pace.

it was slow, but both boys took it as a moment for their roles to fall apart. jack was watching alex’s face, making sure he didn’t hurt himself that bad. alex’s eyes were shut while he focused on going down as steady and easy as possible. they both knew in those moments, this was more than just sex. it was, in a way, them telling each other how they’d felt for so long.

when alex eventually bottomed out, he looked down at jack with bright doe eyes. jack leaned up, kissing him gently as he grew used to being full. after a few moments, he started shifting his hips, whining softly. “so full,” he whispered, desperation lacing his voice.

“yeah, lex?” jack gripped his hips with more force than strictly necessary. “you like having your tight hole stretched around me like that?”

he whined, bringing his hands to rest on jacks. he wanted to run with the think they had going. jack had looked at him like an object, so now he wanted to be used like one. he was strong enough to lift him over his lap. he pulled up on his hands, picking himself up and pushing back down. “wanna be daddy’s fleshlight,” is all he said. jack growled lowly, repeating alex’s action gently. he nodded, biting his lip with a reassuring smile. “harder. i’ve seen you fuck before. i want that. i won’t break, but i’d like to see you try,” he challenged.

jack chuckled under his breath, lifting him up, and forcing him back down. “baby, don’t ask for things you don’t really want.” thus started an uneven rhythm of deep, hard thrusts. neither was going to last long, both being so wound up from the foreplay. jack moved him in different ways until he found the spot that had him moaning like a pornstar. “still want me to break you?” he asked with a smirk. over the years, he’d figured out that he’s better from behind. there’s more power in the thrusts like that.

alex didn’t even get a chance to respond through all the loud moans coming out of his mouth. jack felt pride from it. he was just that good with his cock. “how’s my toy, hmm? does it want to cum for daddy?”

alex nodded, starting to beg in broken whines. he was close, but he could tell jack was too. he was starting to thrust up into him as opposed to pushing him up and down and those thrusts were more uneven than before

“do not cum until after i do, understand?” jack didn’t expect him to respond, he was far, far gone at this point. for a moment, jack pretty much forgot that alex wasn’t a literal toy. alex didn’t mind it, really, it was hot to him that jack was chasing his pleasure so much. it wasn’t like he wasn’t still hitting his prostate dead on either.

suddenly, jack pushed down on alex’s hips as far as they could go. he came deep inside him, not letting up. alex came right after, spraying all over jacks chest. jack rode out their highs, holding alex up so he didn’t get covered in his cum. “are you alright, lex?” he asked as he caught his breath.

he nodded weakly, giving him a smile. “so good.”

jack lifted him up off of his softening cock, and laid him down gently. “are you sure? i didn’t go too hard on you? and the degrading was okay?”

alex nodded again, waiting for him to wipe off his chest so they could cuddle. “you were perfect,” he reassured.

jack wiped himself off with a tissue, before joining him on the bed. “you were perfect, too,” he smiled, taking the smaller into his arms. “you mean so much to me.”

alex laced their fingers together, turning to place a kiss to jack’s cheek. “are we boyfriends now?” he asked quietly. it was fast, and probably the wrong time for most people, but they weren’t most people.

“we’ve been basically dating since high school, lex. of course we’re boyfriends now.”

1 note · View note

writingismyhappytime · 5 years

Text

The Christmas Party

Ryan Sitkowski x Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut

A/N: Merry Christmas, @happys-crazy-queen22

"Why don't we get out of here?" You sigh, leaning into Ryan's side, his arm casually looped over your shoulder to keep you close, a drink held in his other hand. He knows you're restless, you don't particularly like coming to the events his studio throws, you find them incredibly boring. It's usually celebrating a new album release, sales, something like that, and you typically do good for the first hour, it's just after that your attention wanders. This time it's a Christmas party, nicely decorated, with the scented pine cones and a large tree strung with popcorn and guitar ornaments.

"Just a little longer," Ryan presses a kiss into your hair, ignoring the pout on your lips. You look as bored as you feel, you'd gotten over your excitement from the free food and glasses of eggnog early on. "You know this one is important. They wanted us all here to celebrate."

"Do you realize they've played the same song five times now?" You grumble, the light glinting off your black nails as you start to sip from your cup. They keep playing music from the different bands from their label instead of Christmas carols. "Whoever did their playlist apparently really likes hearing you scream in the background. Here I thought I was the only one who got to hear you scream."

Ryan pinkens slightly, but no one seemed to hear your comment. There's a large crowd, so many people a person is easily lost in the group, so it's loud with the chatter and music. "(Y/N)."

"Don't you think we'd have more fun somewhere else?" You say suddenly, getting an idea. You send him a sly look beneath your long lashes, your lips curving. You can think of ten different things you could be doing --- specifically to the good looking man at your side. "I mean, we could still technically be at the party."

Your boyfriend looks down at you, recognizing your tone. So you want to sneak off somewhere and have a little fun? He's not exactly opposed, the party is in full swing, half of his band is talking to their producer, so everyone is pretty preoccupied. .

Still, there's not exactly a lot of places the two of you can go, it might not be a good idea. "Maybe here isn't the best place," he hedges, green eyes flicking across the room. He shifts slightly from where he leans back against one of the tables, hearing you sigh indignantly.

Fine.

You finish off your drink before setting your cup down, straightening and stepping out from beneath his arm. Your smooth your fingers down your dress, brushing any wrinkles out of the black material; you tried to dress really nice today for his party, right down to your black stilettos that always make your legs look fantastic, the diamonds glinting in your ears a perfect addition to set off the darkness of your outfit.

You only wish Ryan appreciated the effort, he said you looked nice but you weren't content with that! He could have said you looked beautiful, or sexy, or told you all the things he'd like to do to you once he got you out of that dress, but no, just "you look nice, let's go, we're already late."

Ugh.

Your eyes flick about the room, and eventually you spy Vinny, standing rather off to himself, looking at his phone. He looks as bored as you feel, so at least there's one person who'll understand your plight. Someone steps up to Ryan, talking and distracting him for a moment, so you take the opportunity to escape, trotting over to the youngest member of the band.

"Hey, Vin," you sigh, tugging one of the metal chairs out from beneath the round table and sitting down in it with a flounce. You prop your chin on your hand, your painted eyes flicking up to his where he looks surprised. "Are you as bored as I am?"

"Uh," Vinny shifts a little, clicking the screen of his phone before looking at you. "I mean, it's a work party, so..."

"So it's supposed to be boring? Right. They couldn't even have some champagne or liquor to keep the poor unfortunate souls from losing interest," you complain, leaning back in your chair. You gesture at Vinny to join you at the table, and after a moment he does, albeit reluctantly; he knows you're Ryan's girlfriend, he's met you plenty of times, but he doesn't think he's ever had a conversation with you where it's just explicitly the two of you --- although he can't really think that, the entire room is packed with people.

"Most of the guys don't drink."

"Sure, but what about the rest of us?" You roll your eyes, shifting in your seat again. You want your boyfriend to agree to leave so you can go have some fun, even if the two of you only make it to the car. You can usually get Ryan to bend to your will, he's such a passive person, if not a perfectionist when it counts. You just get frustrated that he always wants to play by the rules, that he's not spontaneous.

You want to have some fun, make memories, and this is so not up to your standards! There's not even any games! No "pin the eyebrow on the lead singer," or "how many guitarists does it take to change a lightbulb." Just boring speeches by old white men and the occasional eyeball from the security who aren't checking you out but are more likely wondering what you're going to steal.

Come on, does it really look like there's room in this dress that you could hide something? It's pretty tight as it is, you doubt you could hide an award down the front. Someone would definitely question the bulge --- although these days, maybe not.

"Where's Ryan?"

"Over there talking to that short guy."

"Uh. Ricky?"

"Yeah," you frown, tapping your nails impatiently on the white tablecloth. Why is it always white? It stains so easily, you'd think they'd go for a different color. Red, considering the occasion, would have been a much better choice.

Hmm.

You wonder how you can seduce Ryan at his work party. Maybe flash him a little, cross your legs so he can catch a peek, something to motivate him to leave! Maybe he doesn't really like how you look tonight, what if he dislikes your dress, is that why he's not interested? If he didn't like your outfit he should have said so!

Hmph.

Wait... you suddenly have an idea!

You purse your lips before grabbing a napkin off the table, grabbing one of the pens from the cup in the middle you assume has a logical reason for being there. You scribble something on the napkin before folding it in half, abruptly offering it to Vinny from between your fingers. "Be a pal and give this to Ryan for me, would you?"

"Uh, you want me to give him a napkin?" Vinny blinks, reluctantly taking it.

"Yes. And unless you want your ears to turn red, don't read it either," You wink at him, amused as he immediately turns a bright shade of red as you rise from the table. You tug a little at the hem of your dress as it rides up, but you don't mind it short, you like showing off your legs. "Thanks, Vinny."

"Uh. No problem."

~~~~~~~~~~

Ryan can't believe he's doing this.

He can't believe you did that to Vinny! The poor kid looked incredibly uncomfortable as he shuffled up to Ryan, handing him a folded napkin like it was burning his flesh. He mumbled something your boyfriend couldn't hear before disappearing off into the crowd, and Ryan had flipped the napkin open curiously.

Meet you in you-know-who's office if you want to have a real party.

Considering there's only one person you dislike the most at the label company and you know where their office is, he knows exactly where you are. He sighs as he takes the elevator, leaning back on his heels as it slowly goes a few floors up. The doors ding, revealing a red-carpeted hallway, the walls lined with pictures of bands and performers, records and stars telling of their music.

He exhales heavily as he starts down them, seeing the door at the very end closed, the frosted glass hiding the interior. He glances around nervously, but everyone is downstairs, so he's not really worried that anyone will see him. He gives it a moment before he opens the door, nearly rolling his eyes.

"(Y/N)."

"Took you long enough," you sigh, sitting in his producers chair, your feet propped up on his desk as you twist one of his hats around in your delicate fingeres. "I've been in here for a few minutes, I almost thought you weren't coming."

"You really sent Vinny to be your messenger? He'll be scarred." Ryan chuckles, amused as he glances at your relaxed pose; man, his producer would have a heart attack if he saw either of you in here right now.

"Oh, it's good for him! Besides, I didn't write anything bad on the napkin, I just made him think I did," you chuckle, carelessly tossing the hat away. The office is dark, you hadn't bothered to turn on any lights, hadn't wanted any extra attention after all, but there's just enough light to see by thanks to what's filtering through the blinds. "And it worked, didn't it? No one will notice that we're gone."

"We have a speech in like twenty minutes."

"Guess we better make the most of our time then, hmm?" You drop your feet off the desk, quickly standing as he shuts the door firmly behind him, flicking the lock just in case. He would be mortified if someone walked in on the two of you, he'd never live it down.

You grin as you near him, your fingers curling in his collar as you force him to take a step back into the door, pleased that you have him all to yourself. He's just yours right now, you don't have to share his attention with anyone else. You take a moment to glance him over, from his dark hair to the button up shirt he wore tonight, admiring the handsome man who somehow decided dating you was a good idea. He looks so good, just like he always does.

You love the scent of his cologne, it's familiar and comforting. You like how his eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles at you, the deep rumble of his laugh when you catch him off guard with a smart comment. You adore this man, everything about him, from his kisses to his voice to his pretty eyes and his gorgeous... everything.

He's perfect.

Your eyes flick to his and you give him a coy smile, your talented fingers already working on the buttons of his shirt. Ryans hand rises to cup your cheek, tilting your chin gently so his lips can find yours and slow the pace. You feel so soft and warm against him, so eager for his touch, that he can't help but pull you closer, his tongue parting your lips to hungrily take control.

Ryan would never do this with anyone else, but there's a level of trust between the two of you he's never had before. He knows you're doing this for fun, to keep your love life interesting, not because you're going to blast social media about it later or tell all your friends. Everything he's ever told you has never gone anywhere else, and it makes caring about you all that much easier.

You giggle as he urges you to step back, only a few feet until you feel the producers desk against your thighs. You shift, easily lifting yourself up onto the rough surface, Ryan's lips still glued to yours as you both fight for dominance over the kiss --- he's always so quiet and laidback, no one would ever expect him to always want to be in control when in bed. You don't mind it of course, you like a man who knows what he wants.

Your thighs part as you tug him closer, already urging his shirt off his shoulders, cold fingers pulling impatiently on the black t remaining until you manage to wiggle it off of him as well. You can feel your tight dress ride up against your hips, your eyes roving the tattoos that decorate his skin --- you like them so much, they fit him perfectly, and god why is it guys are always so much hotter when they're inked?

Ryan's fingers slip up to your shoulders, tugging at the black straps there holding your dress up. You shrug them off, hearing rather than feeling him jerk on the zipper roughly, dragging it down your back and letting the cool air rush against your skin until you shiver. His lips are already on your throat, feathering kisses and nips across your sensitive neck as his hips push into yours, your thighs rising higher on his waist.

You hastily put one hand back to hold you up, biting your lip as your fingers curl into his thick black hair. You've never had sex on someone else's desk before, so this is going to be a nice experience. His fingers curl around your waist, gliding up to tug on the top of your dress, dragging it down until it's bunching at your hips. Your thighs tighten slightly against his torso, and you have no idea how turned on he is right now --- you're always so spontaneous, ready to get into some kind of trouble and drag him with you, but it's always worth it.

He sighs softly as your hips shift tantalizingly against his again, causing his jeans to grow increasingly uncomfortable. He wishes he had hours to kiss every inch of your skin, to show you how much he wants you with his lips, but there's just not the time --- he'll have to wait until he gets you back to your apartment. He pulls you tighter against him, making sure you can feel just exactly what you're doing to him, and you don't even have to try!

His fingers twitch at the thought of touching you, and he knows you're rubbing your chest against his enticingly, your fingers stroking through his black hair as he nibbles and kisses at your throat, just how he knows always gets you in the mood. He can tell by the way you're shifting you like it, the thin material of your panties all that's keeping him from your heat.

His fingers glide up your side, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they shamelessly cup your breast, giving a firm squeeze. You moan softly in his ear, your skin flushing just at the thought of what you're going to do to him.

When your mischevious eyes flick to his, his grip on you flexes, recognizing the gleam. You're in the mood to cause as much trouble for him as possible, and he doesn't have the mind to tell you no, either. So when you shift, urge him to take a step back so you can get to your feet, he lets you turn him around. His thighs press against the back of the desk as you drop to your knees, his eyes shamelessly focusing on the lovely pair of tits you have as you tug his jeans down his hips.

This is why he loves you.

Well, not this specifically, but the rest of you.

Okay, that's --- no, that's not what he means. He hasn't told you how he feels yet, and obviously, if he states it like that you'll blow him off and roll your eyes. He means he just... well, you're spontaneous where he's a stick in the mud, you make him want to be adventurous, get out of his comfort zone more often. He would never do something like this with someone else, he wouldn't have the guts.

You just... you just seem to bring out the best in him, and he doesn't want to live without your coy giggles or that look in your eye when you're about to start trouble. He's head over heels for you and he thinks he was from the very beginning. According to the guys, he's never looked at anyone like he does you, although he doesn't know what look they're talking about. He just knows you're the only woman in the world for him.

It's why ---- oh, fuck, that feels good.

Your fingers are curled around the base of his cock, your lips parted as you slowly begin to lick your way down his shaft. You're gazing up at him, and he knows you'd be smirking if you could. You pride yourself on your skills, and he's never once had any reason to doubt you, this is no exception.

"Fuck..." Ryan groans softly as your mouth envelopes his throbbing length, warm and wet and so very inviting. His tattooed fingers thoughtlessly tangle into your hair, curling through the soft locks as he tilts his head back slightly, eyes closing. His free hand curves against the edge of the desk, holding tight as you begin to work him over, your tongue grazing the underside of his cock, making its way all the way to his tip before starting again.

You like it when Ryan swears, it's how you know you're getting to him. He can be so uptight sometimes, but usually a good blowjob makes him putty, it's his weakness, you've learned. It's also how you get him to agree with you or convince him that you're right, he's very swayable when he's relaxed.

Your lips take more of his cock between them, hearing that deep rumble of pleasure start in his chest as your fingers curl around his thigh. You're sucking with just enough pressure, bobbing your head, his shaft pillowed by your hot, damp tongue that he thinks is made of magic. You hum softly when he groans again, pleased before you reluctantly pull back, not wanting to take it too far, after all. You still want your fun.

"Isn't this a lovely party?" you purr as your fingers lightly caress his shaft, your tongue flicking against his head teasingly. "We should come back next year."

"Mmm-hmm," Ryan doesn't care about the party at this point, Freddy Krueger could show up and terrorize everyone and he'd ignore the screams. His eyes are for you only, on the gleam of your painted lips, your eyes, that chest just demanding attention his fingers are itching to give.

He can't stand it.

His cock is throbbing, aching in your talented fingers are you caress and tease his head with your tongue, torturing him slowly. His brain has switched gears, he just wants you, on this desk, your thighs tight around his hips as you hold onto the table for dear life.

When he urges you to your feet, when his hands clasp your cheeks so he can kiss you, you don't argue. One of the things you adore about Ryan, is that he makes every moment count. From the first time you slept together to even now, you don't feel like it's just a fuck to him, it's... different, with him. The way he wants to kiss you, show you affection even when you're getting rough with each other, you like that. He has his own way about him that you're not sure you'll ever have with anyone else, and you're not sure you want too.

You've not been together too long of a time, but so far it's been your favorite relationship.

You can't help but smirk as you feel the desk behind you again, Ryan's lips eager on yours as his hands close around your hips, lifting you just enough to shift you onto the desk. Your thighs open for him, letting him return between them without hesitation as your tongue traces his. All you can smell is his cologne, feel the rough brush of his stubble against your jaw, the warmth of his arms as they close around you. He's holding you to him, taking just a minute to kiss you, not rushing to the finish line like everyone else.

Another reason you're a little concerned you're going to fall for this guy.

You shift where you sit, feeling his warm hands coast up your bare thighs, urging your dress around your waist and out of his way. Your fingers curl instinctively at the corner of the desk as he works the thin material keeping him from having his way with you off, and you lift your legs just enough to let it disappear into the floor --- you hope you don't forget those in his producer's office.

"Ryan," you sigh impatiently as you tug on his hips, urging him higher between your thighs. Your hand cups his cock as you feather kisses down his jaw, hearing his intake of breath. You're not sure how long you've been gone from the party, but you figure you better speed this along before someone starts missing the rockstar.

You lean back, letting your elbow bend to better hold your weight, Ryan's lean frame over yours. He takes only a brief moment to nuzzle your breasts before you feel the head of his cock at your heat. He strokes your damp folds with his length, bumping your clit teasingly as his tongue languidly circles your breast. Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you watch him, squirming against his teasing cock.

"Ryan," you whine. You need to move this along, despite the fact you're enjoying yourself. The attention to your chest feels good, he always has a tendency to kiss and suck and lick and just generally give your tits plenty of the appreciation they deserve, but you feel like you deserve the whole package right now too! You're impatient for his cock.

You feel him smile against your heated skin, and you groan as he suddenly pushes his hips forward, easing the head of his throbbing cock inside of you. Your head falls back in pleasure as he slowly enters you, thighs widening to accommodate.

Ryan exhales heavily as your heat closes around him, hugging and squeezing every ridge of his hardness as he pushes deeper. His eyes are on your face, admiring the gleam on your parted lips as your hips meet, bringing the two of you as close as you could possibly be. His arms lips beneath your lower back, pulling you flush against him, hearing your light gasp with satisfaction. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your arms curve around his neck, and you moan as he begins moving, thrusting inside of you forcefully enough to move the desk.

You can't help but kiss his neck, his jaw, his lips --- whatever you can reach. You can feel his muscles beneath your fingertips as they draw down his back, clasping his hips and urging him to fuck you as hard as he can. You love it when he does, when he just bends you over and you fuck the daylights out of each other --- the back of the sofa, on the kitchen counter, there was one time at band camp...

"Fuck, you feel amazing," you breathe, feeling a rush of heat throughout your body. Your knuckles are almost white where they grip the shaking desk, absently hearing items start to roll-off or clatter to the floor --- well that sounded like it broke.

You hook one leg tight against his lower back, spreading the other further apart. You shudder as his angle changes slightly, his cock easily gliding between your wet folds; he groans when you wiggle your hips, when you squeeze his length and murmur hotly in his ear what you're going to do to him the moment you two get home --- you have a feeling you'll be leaving the party early after this.

Ryan is going to have a heart attack, he just knows it. His heart races as he listens to your whispers and taunts, your fingers stroking down his damp skin. Fucking you on a desk in his boss' office, your dress tangled at your waist, displaying your delectable body --- he didn't realize it was on his bucket list until now. Your tits bounce with every hard thrust, and he can tell you're trying not to be loud, considering the environment, but there's no one on this floor, everyone's downstairs, and --- he wants you loud.

"Ungh, fuck, Ryan!"

There you go.

He smirks as he grinds his hips into yours, forcing you hard against the desk as his fingers suddenly pinch your clit. He feels you jerk beneath him, thighs squeezing hard around his waist as you tense abruptly. There's a rush of electricity through your veins so abrupt you're caught off guard, your skin flushing as you bury your face against his neck helplessly.

You're soaking his cock at this point, that felt so good. You love it when he's rough, when he takes control, when he doesn't ask but just does. He knows what your limits are, how much you can take, and you welcome the surprise when he's ready to take control. You don't mind being the instigator of course, but...

"I love your cock," you whimper as his hips buck harder into yours, clenching your fingers so tightly they start to ache against the smooth wood below you. He's holding you so tightly against it him you might as well be in his lap, his hands cupping your ass and squeezing. He can feel you shudder in his arms, you're panting, one hand clinging to him as your head tilts back once more.

He can tell you're on the verge of cumming, you're squeezing him, pressing your lips hard against his shoulder. He nudges you, urging you to lie back against the desk, knowing your arm is shaking with trying to hold yourself up at this angle.

He tugs you roughly to the edge of the desk, bracing his arms on either side of you as he kisses you, his fingers caressing up your trembling thighs as his cock enters you over and over. There's a roaring in his ears as you fuck, he can barely hear your panting breaths, the sounds of your body meeting, the shaking, and the jingling of what remained of the items on the desk.

Your fingers dig into his bare sides, pulling him hard against you where he leans over you. Your nails skim his flesh as you kiss him, your tongue parting his lips and desperately finding his own. He's cupping your breast, pinching and rolling your sensitive nipple between his fingers while your cling to him. There's a deep throbbing inside of you, on the cusp of taking over, of throwing you into the chaotic pleasure you crave. The harder he thrusts inside of you, the better it feels, and you find your back arching off the desk as he finds your swollen clit, your body going rigid beneath his.

Ryan's thrusts are relentless, even when your back arches and you threaten to cum on his producer's desk. He loves the sharp feel of your nails digging into his skin, the sheen of sweat on your chest he can just barely see in the darkness of the room. His arm thoughtlessly sweeps to the side as he moves a stack of papers out of his way, barely hearing them scatter to the floor so he can have more room.

Why is that so hot?

Your body clenches around his, hugging tight to his heavenly cock. The desk is wanting to creak beneath the two of you, and you're so tense, on the edge, on the precipice of pleasure --- you just need a push, a nudge, a bump ---!

The closer you draw to your own pleasure, the closer Ryan is getting to his. He lets his eyes close for a brief moment, enjoying the feel of your bodies together. Being with you feels so good, so right, he never wants to not be with you. Sometimes he finds it hard to believe that you enjoy being with him so much, but when you're together like this, even after a fight --- there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

Your fingers slip to the nape of his neck, caressing through his dark hair and causing him to shudder. He has no idea how much fun you have with him, when you can get him out of his comfort zone, that is. This is probably one of your best ideas to date, plus you're also riding high on the mess you've made of this desk and its contents --- you're going to have to start doing this more often.

"We should," Ryan agrees with a rasp, and you realize you must have said that out loud. You give a breathless laugh that ends on a moan, your nails abruptly digging into him as he finally gives you that nudge you'd been dying for. His lips find yours, stifling your moan of pleasure as you cum beneath him, that heat inside of you finally exploding into fireworks that take over.

Ryan rides it out with you, unable to hold back a moment longer. He presses his forehead against yours with a gasp, his fingers clenching against the desk as he groans and shudders.

Fuck.

Best Christmas party ever.

"I don't think I mind coming to work events anymore," you manage after a moment, brushing errant strands of hair out of your eyes as they slowly find his. You're still gently caressing the nape of his neck, and it's such a soothing, comforting feeling. He presses a kiss against your neck before lifting up, arching a black brow.

"I thought you hated them."

"You made me change my mind," you give him a half-smile, content. If it wasn't for the fact that a desk isn't comfortable to lay on, you'd never want to move! You wish the two of you could stay in this moment forever, just enjoy yourselves, well, more.

Just wait till you get him home.

~~~~~~~

You hastily smooth your dress down your thighs as the two of you leave the elevator heading for the party, realizing that you're nearly late for his so important speech. You make sure that your hair is back into place after the mess he made out of it, your dress is zipped, and you think you're good! He looks fine of course, except his hair is a little messy, but you like the look on him so you're not going to mention it.

You smile warmly at him as his fingers curl through yours, squeezing. You lean into him as you both make it to the hallway where you can see the Christmas party in full swing, everyone pretending to have a good time. You know you're definitely not as bored as you were earlier, that's for sure.

"I don't think we missed your speech," you murmur as you stop in the door, seeing the makeshift stage is still empty and it doesn't look like anyone's buzzing around waiting for some grand announcement.

"Oh good," Ryan looks relieved. "Chris won't murder me then for skipping out."

"Mmmhmm," you smooth at the collar of his shirt absently, your eyes flicking up. "Oh, look."

Ryan glances up, noticing the mistletoe hanging above his head. "Haven't you had enough of me, already?"

"Oh, I could never have too much of you," you chuckle, tugging on the front of his t shirt and drawing him to you. You grin up at him, glad that you're wearing heels as you look at him expectantly for a kiss. "You wouldn't tell me no, would you?"

"No."

"Ryan."

He chuckles, and his fingers rise, tilting your chin a little more before he kisses you. You lean into him, tightening your grip on his shirt as you deepen the kiss, absently listening to the chatter of the crowd and the vague sound of Christmas music. It's such a perfect moment, kissing your boyfriend beneath the twinkling lights, the soft music, the warm smell of cookies and his cologne.

You couldn't wish for a better Christmas.

Also wait.

You were wearing panties earlier, weren't you?

#ryansitkowski #secretsanta #Ryan Sitkowski #ryan sitkowski smut #ryan sitkowski christmas party surprise #smut

68 notes · View notes

keelywolfe · 5 years

Text

FIC: Playing Games (baon)

Summary: In the aftermath of Internal Disputes, Sans wasn't alone, not when his own thoughts could be haunting him.This wasn't how things were supposed to work, none of it, and there was nothing he would do but wait.

Tags: Kustard, Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Major Character Injury, Hospitals, References to Collaring

Notes: Now, I want you to know that I say this with the greatest sincerity possible, but all you people that got me shipping kustard? I hate you all.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The hospital chairs weren’t bad when it came to comfort, especially if you ran a little shorter in the pants than average. Not that it would’ve mattered much if they weren’t, Sans was well-trained in how to get to sleep in any and all places, knew exactly how to curl up in a folding chair for maximum comfort, no matter how hot or cold the climate got around him.

Tonight, he was only too tired to sleep. That didn’t matter either, he’d been worse off plenty of times before. Only thing that mattered was that Paps was the one sleeping, and that was enough of a topsy-turvy to make Sans want to check they hadn’t missed an exit and were still in the right universe.

Probably were; from what Stretch said, when you first took a sideways step into another world, you could feel the wrongness of it in your bones. His bones felt shaky and sore, a fine litter of bruises all along his side where he’d hit the asphalt, but none of them were sending out Morse code squawking that the sky was falling, so they were all right there. Chicken Little would have to wait for another day, though maybe he’d check in with Stretch’s little flock, see how their bones were feeling--

Sans ran a weary hand down his face, smelling the lingering smoky char. Fuck, he was tired.

In the hospital bed surrounded by machines and IV’s, Papyrus was lying perfectly still, and it was so fucking wrong to see. Even when he was sleeping Paps usually twisted and turned like he was training for the next Olympics. That little quirk cost Sans plenty of his own sleep when they were kids, nights huddled together for warmth beneath a threadbare blanket and all the while his baby bones bro tried to sleepwalk a watusi up his spine.

Sometimes Sans missed that little kid.

The fancy suit Papyrus always wore when he was playing ambassador was gone, replaced by a hospital issue gown that would give a peepshow of his pelvis when he stood. His old clothes were past the dry cleaning stage, scorched all the way up his spine and yeah, that sight was gonna haunt Sans’s dreams a coupla times in the near future, as was the bitter taste of his own soul in his throat when he crawled over to him, all the dazed moans and screams around them as he clung to his brother, frantically checking him over.

Yeah, let’s close that scene and set the memory box aside for those upcoming dreams to rifle through. No need to re-live the nightmare during the daytime, too.

Sans shifted in the chair, pulling his bare, bony feet up onto the cushion. He hadn’t changed his own clothes yet; about all he’d managed was kicking off his shoes, his filthy socks draped over them like the peels of the world’s most disgusting fruit. His travel outfit was a lil’ different than his bros, a hoodie and shorts were about as fancy as he cared to get, maybe a pair of sunglasses if he was feeling particularly feisty about it.

That getup was fine for someone on security team, something Papyrus very much was not, and Sans was planning to have a nice, long chat about that with him whenever his brother finally woke up.

He was gonna wake up and Sans was gonna be here waiting when he did, thanks.

As if magnetically drawn, a compass endlessly searching for north, Sans’s eye lights slid back to the bed towards his sleeping brother. His skull was still abnormally pale against the pillowcase, a revealing sign of magic drain despite the IV steadily dripping at his bedside. So very pale, except for the fine line of a fresh crack running down the side of his skull. Barely visible, really, someone who didn’t know any better might mistake it for a cranial suture.

Sans knew better.

It’d been a lot worse before Tori started in on it, crawling over to them through the rubble on the tarmac, ignoring shouts to stay down and her normally pristine white fur had been filthy, hands already caked with crimson marrow even as she reached out to Papyrus. The ugly wound Sans could barely stand to look at vanished beneath a thick green glow and that little crack was all that was left, a souvenir of Papyrus’s first trip to California. His brother had slumped to the ground after, those thready, pained moans fading. He’d been unconscious ever since.

He was gonna be fine; both Tori and Blue told Sans’s that over and over on the plane ride home, gonna be just fine. He was out cold was all, used up his magic down to the last dregs generating enough of a shield to cover himself and two other people besides. Right now it was nothing but a waiting game, Sans moving his pawn across the board until he landed on the ‘good morning, sunshine’ spot.

Just fine, sure, and Sans believed them. But he really wished he could roll doubles right now and speed up the process.

Most of his thoughts were either being firmly suppressed or focused the still figure laying on the bed, but Sans did manage to spare one or two leftover balls from the ones he was mentally juggling to wondered tiredly how Stretch was holding up. He’d been eating shit sandwiches himself this weekend, and now honey boy was topping it off with big ol’ slice of disaster pie. At least Sans had the luxury of being with his bro from the get-go. Trying to picture how he’d feel knowing only the bare details of what’d happened sent a cold frisson through his soul. That was enough for him to offer sending Edge out in the first ambulance; at least he was with his brother, Edge and Blue were both stuck in limbo all the way home.

Besides, he’d gotten to see plenty of the show on the flight home in the moments when Edge wavered into brief wakefulness. No wonder he never wanted to smoke weed or even drink much. They’d doped him to the gills without mercy, and now Sans was gonna have to live with an eternity of regret that the loss of his phone meant he didn’t get a chance to record Edge massacring a heartfeltly sung rendition of ‘I Want It That Way’.

Since Tori and Blue were no fun at all and refused to do it either, seemed the best option was to send Edge out and hope Stretch got a front row seat to the second act.

That show had been a helluva lot better than the inflight movie Edge’d given them on the way out. Stoic and distant since the second he’d gotten on the plane, a fuckton more so than usual. Wasn’t until Blue snuck in a whisper to Sans what was up that he got it. Anniversary tomorrow, yeah, husband back home while he got stuck playing lead babysitter with Sans as backup ‘cause Red was off saving the world or catching an early bird sale, some bullshit, anyway.

(not thinking about red, better not to, better to not)

Stretch probably pitched a bitchfit about Edge tagging along without him and Sans hadn’t registered to vote in this election, but he was gonna go with Stretch as his candidate. There was no good reason he could think of to make Stretch stay home past paperwork and pissiness, and the fact that Blue thought his Papy staying home was the better choice told him all he needed to about that.

They’d been Aboveground for a few years now and Stretch was nowhere near as bad off as he’d been back when they’d first shown up on the doorstep back in Snowdin. He’d gone the good boy route, got himself a therapist and everything. He was happy, anyone could see that, and HP issues aside, it was ‘bout time to cut the apron strings let Stretch mess up his own cooking.

Edge was better about it than Blue, but looked like he was still trying to play sous chef ‘cause Stretch wasn’t on the plane. Their fearless leader had put up a good front, but any moron could see he was upset, and Sans wasn’t just any idiot on the street. Whatever his reasoning, Edge obviously wasn’t happy about leaving his honey behind.

Welp, Sans had a feeling Edge wasn’t super eager to add Stretch to the roster now. Not after spending some quality time laying on the crumbled tarmac waiting for a stretcher, banged up and bandaged the best they could manage on the fly while the Human side of the contingency ran around squawking out orders, getting everything on lockdown. Trying to keep everything on the down-low until they could get a proper press release in order, yeah, that was the right procedure.

Sans still didn’t have a single qualm about slipping Edge that phone so he could let Stretch know he was okay. ‘Course he’d probably scared him shitless the way he started rambling on like it was his deathbed confession hour instead of just saying ‘alive and kicking’, oops, but eh, couldn’t win ‘em all.

Sans wasn’t winning a lot of ‘em lately.

The stack of blankets were tucked around Papyrus with generous care, but Sans got up and went over to him, anyway, smoothing the imaginary wrinkles in covers. His hands were beneath the blanket, the better to keep them toasty warm. Probably for the best, it was bad enough having to look at his skull, that single ragged crack. If he had to keep looking at his bro’s bruised, battered knuckles, Sans might go nuts.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It was his duty to play big bro, his, he’d taken that on years ago while he was still in his own striped shirt, his very first job. He was the one in Security, he was the one who was supposed to fucking protect, and even if Sans thought maybe he’d fucked that up a time or two before, suspected that there was a memory he didn’t possess, a

(reset)

past that wasn’t theirs. But he’d been keeping up their end of the bargain since his bro decided to be an Ambassador and Paps wasn’t supposed to break it, he fucking wasn’t—

The door creaking made Sans jerk, heat rushing to his fingertips in a heady blurt of magic for an attack that stopped forming the moment he saw who it was. He took a long, slow breath, shaking away his exhausted agitation the best he could, cause he was going to need every wit that hadn’t been blown away in the explosion to deal with this.

Red was standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. The light pouring in behind him cast him in shadow except for the smoldering glow of his eye lights burning out from his sockets.

Sans only ignored his awful horror movie impression and wandered back to his chair, crawling up to settle on the cushion with a weary sigh.

"you done with skulking around trying not to talk to me?" Sans asked. He didn't mean to sound as pissy as he did, but did Red really think he wouldn't notice? On the plane, outside the ambulance, even here, Red'd been all over, watching but not getting close.

No answer came, no sardonic comeback, no angry snarl. Red stepped into the room and closed the door behind him with disturbing care. Probably only playing at kindness for Papyrus’s sake, but something about his expression was unnerving, the lines of his face laid out in a way that Sans didn’t know.

He came close to the chair without reaching, only stood there, hands visibly fisted in his pockets. Crimson eye lights resting on Sans, but more like Red was looking through, like Sans wasn’t even there and Red’s gaze was laser-focused on the wall behind him.

“came to tell you i’m taking off for a while,” Red said, every word filled with deliberate indifference, “dunno how long.”

Sans only nodded. “yeah. thought you might.”

“wanted to see if you’d keep an eye on that fucking cat of mine.” Again, nothing but cool detachment, Red speaking to the wall and expecting answers.

He made no mention of asking Edge and Sans didn’t either. “sure, why not, i could use a few more scrapes for my collection. maybe i can trip over him on the stairs, add a few broken bones to the tab.”

There, a veritable hit; Red winced visibly, the distance in his gaze wavering. It was almost fascinating, really, watching with his own detached interest as Red tried to force it back. Must be a sign of his own shaken control, all of it unraveling, snapping into its proper place as he actually looked at Sans.

Sans had a pretty good idea what Red was seeing. The force of the explosion had thrown them all to the ground in spite of any shields, leaving behind a nice collection of mottled bruises and bloody scrapes to share around. His own pain had been secondary, unnoticed until they’d been shoved back on the plane for a ride straight back home. He’d been sitting next to Paps when Tori came over, watching the metronome precision of the rise and fall of his rib cage like only the force of his will was keeping his brother breathing.

The cold wetness against his skull had stung and it was only then that he noticed his own hurts. He’d sat there and concentrated on keeping Papyrus breathing, let Tori gently clean him up the best that she could.

So he didn’t have any illusions about what kind of eye candy he was right now. Another note of interest that Red didn’t seem to be able to look away, the minute flicker of his eye lights moving as they traced over those bruises and scrapes.

“i need to go,” Red repeated, but that indifference was wavering, seeping away, leaving behind something that was almost pleading. Huh. How about that. “i gotta. this is my fault. i’ve gotta—"

“listen to the ego on you,” Sans snorted. “even you can't know everything.”

“no, you don't fucking get it.” Shattered desperation, like nothing Red ever showed. Seemed like those walls Red kept up weren’t quite as impervious as Sans always thought; words were spilling out of him, vomited out in pained rush. “i didn't have shit going on here. i didn't come along on this trip because i knew you'd go without me and i…i wanted you away. for a couple days. wanted some time to get my head on straight and i didn’t give a shit who i pissed off to get it, i—"

Yeah, Sans could believe that. Fucked over his own brother and Stretch, and why not? It was only to get out of a Security detail that would’ve left him sharing a hotel room with Sans, left them out in the open in front of everyone. Made them obvious in a way that somehow Red didn’t think they’d been before, fooling no one but himself, but it was a lie Red somehow needed.

Knowing that was a different sort of bruise, on his soul instead of his bones, and every word out of Red was giving it a rough press. It was satisfying in a strange way, to know Red was panicking over him, made him want to feel it again.

"all right,” Sans said calmly.

"no, it ain't all right!" Red snarled, his voice cracking, breaking, breathing too heavily. "if I hadn't've fucked off--"

"then you would've been there instead of edge and it would all have happened the same way." He felt oddly serene, floating in his own peculiar calm. "you're one person. even you can't be everywhere and know everything. ‘sides, if that’s your fault, this is mine.” He flung his hand out like an attack at the hospital room, towards his brother lying unconscious in front of him. “’m getting sloppy, should’ve reacted faster.”

Red twitched, stepping closer, grasping that line of thought with eager gratitude, “reacted to what? how did my brother know? toriel ain’t sure and neither was blue—"

“intent.” Sans shivered, remembering the prickle of it washing over him, virulent hate that came a bare second too late for him to react. The memory of it made him remember something else, a delirious question forgotten in the aftermath, “didn’t think edge could beat me when it came to sensing intent.”

Red waved that off. “he’s been practicing ever since andy got turned into a pincushion outside that chinese place. what else?”

Of course he was, Edge probably spent his lunch hour wandering the streets to see how much hate he could pick up, that was a filling meal. “it was coming from the driver. edge was a lot closer to the car, he must’ve felt it before i did. he yelled for everyone to get down but by then, paps already had me face first on the asphalt.” He shrugged, trying not to think too deeply of the wash of vicious heat, the sound of it, the screams, fuck, all the screams— “after that, it gets a little explody. i can still hear it a little, it’s like listening to a seashell lodged in my head. doc said it might take a day or two for the echo to fade out.”

“that it?” Red’s gaze bore into him.

“that’s all i’ve got,” Sans drawled sourly. He turned in the seat, lounging with deliberate casualness, his legs hanging over the arm. “that’s the shit, the whole shit, and nothing but the shit. so that happened and our bros got hurt, yeah, but they’re gonna be fine. so, now, you wanna take off and go headhunting? you go on ahead. play your little game, start following your clues. just remember after paps wakes up and i can see he’s okay? i’m coming to find you.”

Red had been nodding along and Sans could see the moment realization bled through, the indignant rasp as he snapped out, “the fuck you are!”

“the fuck i’m not,” Sans countered, tauntingly. He ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting his own sweat, the bitterness of smoky residue as he goaded, “how are you gonna stop me? ask edge to chase me down while he plays hop along cassidy on some crutches?” Fury was sparking in Red’s eye lights like a firecracker as Sans went on with fractured glee, “he’ll be a coupla weeks recovering, you know. even you harping on him to get up and play protector ain’t gonna change that. gonna tattle on me to asgore, gonna lock me up? tie me to your bed?” Sans tapped a finger against his cheek bone pensively, a mockery of thinking, “or maybe i won’t go after you at all. maybe i’ll see about playing a little on my own.”

Ah, that, that right there. Sans could feel the impotent fury rolling off of Red, about the only time he couldn’t get it up, hands flexing as if he wished there was something in them and for a distant moment, he thought Red might actually attack him and wouldn’t that make for an interesting problem to explain.

Then it was gone, all that anger and frustration swallowed into nothingness. Interesting how Red managed to break without so much as changing expression. Must be a gift.

“you win,” Red said abruptly.

“we playin’ something?” Sans asked lightly,

“only with our lives. ain’t like anything important.” There was a sharp prick of frustrated anger in that, wasn’t all gone, then, only banked. A point Red proved by stalking forward to take Sans’s chin in two sharp fingers, yanked it up. Crimson eye lights searched Sans’s face and he couldn’t begin to wonder what they hoped to find. “you even know what you’re getting into here?”

“i’ve been fucking you for over a year.”

“i ain’t talking about fucking.” Those searing eye lights pierced deeply into him, crawling over the depths of his soul. “do you know?”

Deliberately, Sans lifted his chin more, exposing the bones of his cervical vertebrae. Red’s gaze dropped, lingered over them with hypnotic weight, and his fingers followed, coiling around Sans’s throat like a metaphor.

“if you like it, then you shoulda put a collar on it,” Sans said, soft and singsong. “i’ve been fucking you for over a year, fucking around three times that, you think i don’t know? collar me, claim me. may as well, i ain’t going anywhere, anyways.”

Red shuddered, lurching forward another step and his fingers tightening convulsively, not quite painlessly. “collar you? like you’d be fucking obedient.”

“from what i saw of you wearing one, i always figured the obedience part was an optional add-on. besides, at least i’m housebroken.”

The thin fingers around his throat tightened again, so very close to choking and Sans only shivered, yearning into that grip even as Red whispered with low, virulent intensity, “should’ve known i couldn’t keep dodging you forever.”

Red leaned in, but not for a kiss. His mouth was suddenly hot on Sans’s collarbone, dragging over I, uncaring of the sweat and filth coating him. Sharp teeth nicked tantalizingly against bone and Sans couldn’t hold back a cry, edged with a near sob because he wasn’t supposed to get this, he wasn’t, wasn’t supposed to have this suddenly thrust into his lap like a gift. His magic gave stirring an unfortunate try, but he was thankfully too tired to demo how much his psyche was absolutely going for the sweet threat in that touch.

"i wanna to keep you," Red muttered, mostly to himself, something like desperation curling around every word. Sans answered anyway, mumbling mindlessly.

"okay. okay, yeah."

"wanna keep anyone else from touching you,” whispered against him, a promise, a threat, Sans didn’t know. Red’s tongue was winding around his clavicles, sharp fingertips tearing Sans’s t-shirt, exposing more. “wanna put my collar you, warn the whole world that you're mine."

"yeah," Sans breathed brokenly. His hands move of their own accord, not bothering to ask for permission as they clutch at Red’s shoulders, blunt fingertips digging into the leather of his coat with creaking force.

"That sounds very romantic and potentially disturbing, but may I ask if you could do that in your bedroom and not here in front of me?"

Sans came pretty fucking close to kicking Red to the floor as he jerked up to see his brother’s sockets open, blinking at them owlishly. It wasn’t even a thought to scramble down and go to him; reaching for Papyrus was as automatic as drawing a breath. His brother reached back and if his hands were shaking a little, if there was something tremulous and almost fragile in that touch, Sans didn’t care.

His brother was awake and reaching for him, pulling him up on the bed and into his arms.

“Hush, there’s no need to cry,” Papyrus scolded gently, but he held on to Sans with enough force to get his bruises singing out an Ava Maria. “I’m perfectly all right and even if I’m not, you are, so that’s fine.”

“that is so not fine, paps, it is completely the opposite of fine,” Sans wiped away embarrassing flood of tears, sniveling humiliatingly into his sleeve even as Papyrus flailed and tried to reach for the box of Kleenex on the bedside table. “me and red are the ones working in the security department, we—”

He turned back to the chair, trailing off when he found it empty.

Well, shit.

“know something, bro?” Sans sighed out, even as he settled into his brother’s arms. “that whole vanishing thing is fucking annoying when i’m not the one doing it.”

Papyrus smoothed a hand down his spine, more gentle than not, and if he had an inkling of what he just interrupted, he was kind enough not to ask. “Never fear, brother, you are always fucking annoying whether you’re trying or not.”

Probably true. Hearing his brother swear was always enough to give his soul a seizure, even if he knew Papyrus only did it to get a rise out of him. He needed to go find one of the docs, let him know Paps was awake and there were probably tests that needed to be run, x-rays maybe, who the fuck knew.

It could wait a minute. Right now, the only place his soul wanted to be was right here.

But later, he thought maybe he had some dice to roll. Some asshole in a stupid hat once said the game was afoot and now that he knew there was a chance?

Sans was playing to win.

-finis-

#kustard #spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

65 notes · View notes