#WHY IS CONNOR WITHOUT HIS GLOVE ON ONE HAND | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kyberphilosopher · 3 years ago

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Fensterln

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me.”

Warning(s): some allusions to sex, explicit-ish language, fluff, reader has a whole ‘Black Cat’ thing going on. Word Count: 3273

Notes: This is a requested work. This is a headcanoned canon version of Superboy, meaning he is no version in particular and simply the character I figure as a whole. Reader can be any gender.

“Fensterln is when you have to climb through someone’s window in order to have sex with them, without their parents knowing about it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You know, most people think that climbing up the side of a building is easy. Like it’s nothing. They see it on TV, and in the movies, and in cartoons even, and they think, “That doesn’t look so bad!” because it doesn’t. Cartoons and actors don’t have to deal with the wind whipping their hair, constantly pushing their whole body all around, the butterflies of anxiousness making their heart thump, threatening the scenario of falling to their death. It’s terrifying. It takes a lot of skill, a lot of courage, and a lot of luck.

“Shit.”

Your right hand releases from the glass, arm slowly swinging back until it’s at your side. The same sides foot follows this pattern of rotation, until only your left fingertips and toes are stuck to the wall of the building, suctioning you to life. Below you, hundreds and hundreds of feet, is an island of grass and sand, encompassed by a large body of water. Over the tidal waves chip chopping away, there’s a distance. And in that distance, is the city, just under the inky blackness of the midnight sky.

Jump City, it’s called. You’re not too familiar with it. Most of your time is spent in Metropolis, or Gotham. Luckily, both of those cities have plenty of skyscrapers to practice scaling. One could say that you’d perfected the art of this sort of thing. The finger pads on your suit are sophisticatedly sticky, seamlessly letting you latch onto anything with grace. Your feet are the same.

The wind hits your face like sharp needles, amplified by the cold air and the incline. Your hair whips around wildly, also different from how it flows, softly, in the movies. The harsh breeze roars in your ears, louder than the thousands of explosions you’ve heard in your lifetime. Although dangerous, nothing beats the view. Those thousands of lights in the distance, the cars, the buildings, this building that you’re on now. Titan’s Tower is far larger and closer and more important than anything else at the moment.

“Okay then,” you mutter, twisting your body over to the right twice more, until finally both hands and feet are connecting against the glass in a stealthy, perfect crawling position.

You work your way up, one foot and hand at the time. You resemble that of a spider, or perhaps a cat. One, two. One, two.

His room is on one of the top floors, if not the top floor. From the two other times that you’ve done this, you remember the number of steps, the distance, the little cracks in the glass panes to look for so you know you’re close. Even from the outside, hundreds of feet up, hanging above death tantalizingly, you know exactly where you are and where you need to be. And you know, of course, that you are close.

Your right hand leaves the wall once more and reaches down to the belt on your hips. “Coming, my love,” you mutter as you flip open a small pouch attached. From the inside you pull out a slim switchblade, made specifically to cut through glass walls like this- designed it yourself.

The knife springs open. In a circle big enough to fit your entire body, you trace the blade in a wide arc from up to down, left to right. Then you flip the blade back inside, place the whole thing back into the pouch on the belt, and shove your left elbow against the middle of the glass in front of you.

It pops free immediately. The circle of wall falls forward into the room, with you not far behind.

Landing like a gymnast on your toes with your arms overhead, you are immune to the sharp pain in your femurs that comes from a sudden pressure like this. The glass pane is still intact on the floor ahead of you, which is coated with a red carpet that you recognize so well. It’s much warmer inside than it was outside, although you can still feel the night wind from behind you.

“Silent,” a voice remarks from beside you. It’s not an amused tone, really. It’s genuine and full of awe, surrounded by something casual.

You hum as you stand before throwing a look over your shoulder. Sure enough at your back, splayed casually on a bed against the wall you just broke through, is your favorite boy toy. Dark, curly hair framing his classically handsome face, nose scrunching slightly on instinct. He’s wearing the black and red super shirt he always does, coupled with the plaid pajama bottoms you’d gotten him as a gift in spring.

You want so badly to quip something back, but you both know you can’t right now. Not when you’re so close to the door. And yeah, that’s partially Conner’s fault, if not all. Too much noise would attract the attention of his team mates, the Titans, and then something probably not that great would happen. Maybe they’d throw you out. Maybe they’d fire him. Maybe things would just get weird. It’s not as if you and Connor are an official couple, even after all this time. You could stop sneaking around to see each other at any sense of danger.

You take a step towards the bed he lays on, noting the big, bright smile that lights up Superboy’s face at the motion. “Can you fix the hole?” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

Conner’s eyes go wide and the smile gets bigger.

“In the wall.”

The smile turns into an eye roll. “Yes,” he sighs, almost dramatically, pushing himself up. The boy crosses to the center of the room a few feet from you and begins picking up the perfect circle of cut window- wall while you look around the area.

You’ve snuck into Conner’s room before. Twice, in fact. It’s not clean, not horribly messy. His leather jacket is usually hanging off the dresser or door handle. Sweatshirts of different colors are littering the floor in a collective pile. It looks like a normal teenage boys room, really. It just feels very ‘Conner’.

First, he pushes the glass back into place in the wall, then he takes a few steps back. You throw him a smirk, nudging your head to encourage him to do the thing.

Conner’s eyes heat up. Little at first, as a soft yellow. Then into an all consuming scarlet that hisses out in two beams meeting in the middle between them. They move in a circle around the pane until you can’t even tell it was ever not there, and the wind you once heard no longer exists. The wall is perfectly in tact.

“Thank you, Superboy,” you tell him, tone laced overly sweet. Your hands, freezing from the cold even through the gloves of your costume, wrap around Conner’s upper arm.

“Yeah,” he tosses, back, voice low. His cheeks are turning pink.

You unhook your arms and saunter over to his mattress. As you throw yourself on and relax as you sink into the pillows, you let your eyes close. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” you tease. “Mm, do you know a lot of people who would climb up the Tower for you? I don’t.”

Upon hearing him take a single step forward, one eye pops open. “I know you missed me,” you continue.

Conner lays himself on the bed beside you, hands behind his bed with his arms bent. You turn to face him, propping your head up with your palm.

“You never answer my texts,” Conner says, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You text me?” you smirk, watching Superboys eyes sink close as he releases a sigh of defeat.

Your left leg slips over Conner’s hips. Then you pull your whole body up and over into a straddle over him, looking down at him. He’s handsome in the way nobody can argue with, so perfect and soft and structured. When you squint, he looks like Superman. But Conner’s not Superman, he’s better. You can’t explain why, or how, but he just is.

You place your palms forward on his chest at first, then backwards, behind your back, on Conner’s thighs. Your chest puffs out at the slight change of position.

Below you, the boy bites his lower lip softly in thought for a second. “What if I got you a phone?” Conner asks you. His light eyes holding yours through thick, dark lashes. “Just so you can text me back sometimes?”

“Us?” you gasp with wide eyes. “Talking? During the daytime?”

Conner glances away. “Message received. Very funny. Forget it.”

“I’m messing with you,” you promise with a smile. “Loosen up Super-Annoy.”

“So you’ll let me get you one?” Conner pushes himself up with a snap, eyes wide with some kind of excitement.

Well… would you? You haven’t had a lot of long term partners, if any. Your time with Conner has been the longest with anyone, and he’s not even really your boyfriend. He’s just… you know… the guy you kissed on a rooftop one night. The guy who once surprised you with a cone of ice cream, again on a night time rooftop, whilst you were sitting on the side of the building to watch the city below. The guy who remembered your birthday, the guy who keeps sending you the many, many texts reminding you that you can watch your favorite show on the TV in the tower. The guy who once lied to get you to ice skate with him.

Something about Conner has been enough to keep you hooked for months and months, always coming back. Sneaking into the Tower, taking more and more trips to Jump City, keeping notes of events throughout your week to tell him about when you see him.

How silly. Never giving the time of day to any other partner of yours, but for Conner? Conner has gotten at least eight months of it.

“I’ll think about it,” you roll your eyes.

“You promise?” Conner urges.

“Yes. Jeez, I promise. I will think about letting you get me a phone that only you have the number to.”

“Please don’t laugh at me about this.”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“It feels like it.”

“Connor,” you clasp a hand on his shoulder, pushing back laughter. “Have I ever laughed at you?”

“W- Is that- is that a serious question?” Conner’s eyebrows raise.

“Get up,” you roll your neck. “I want to change positions.”

The boy below you shifts. For a quick moment, something pokes between your hips from underneath. Your pupils dilate in response, but by the time they finish, the movement has ceased. “Tell me about your day.”

“I want to lay down,” you say as you stretch. “I just scaled up the side of the skyscraper-”

“You love it.”

“-and it was oh, so cold. I’m tired.”

“That’s not your day.”

You just stare at him expectantly, not quite sure what it is you’re waiting for.

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me,” Conner concedes. “You chose to be up there.”

“Prove it,” you challenge.

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy below you hisses as if annoyed. “I get it,” he says, but his arms are already snaking around your torso to pull you close and slowly pull you into a new position.

You lay on your side, back against Conner’s broad chest. His arms stay wrapped around your middle as he curls up against you on instinct, legs quick to tangle with your own. You know he must really be interested in you if he’s not going to mention that your ‘work’ shoes are still on while in bed.

“You’re an ass,” he mutters into your hair.

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ha,” you chuckle once. “Douche.”

“Please tell me about your day now?” you hear Conner almost plead. “Please?”

One of your hands, your right one, rests on top of Conner’s against your stomach. “Oh, you know. The usual. I helped out a small jewelry store today, snuck into a big building, currently hiding from Nightwing- you know how it is.”

“There wasn’t much crime today. I mostly just stayed in. You know that big building you snuck into?”

“Such a douche,” you breathe.

“Jealous much?” Superboy rumbles against your ear.

“I’m gonna tell Dick,” you tell him. “I’ll send an anonymous tip that one of the Titan’s is a big poop face.”

Conner puts his whole face in your hair. “Shiver me timbers.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not fair you guys get a whole building to yourselves. What are you even using half these floors for? People in Gotham are struggling.” You frown. “Well, except for Wayne. But you know what? He’s a douche too. You’d get along.”

Conner squeezes you once. Then you feel him still from behind you, not even breathing. And then-

“Move in then.”

At once, your brows furrow. “What?”

Your companion squeezes you once more. “Move in. Move in with me. In the Tower.”

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times, eyes looking around. You can’t see Conner, but you can feel him out. His eyes are closed, still inhaling the scent of you shamelessly. It’s hard for people to catch you off guard, not just like this, but at all. You just have that sarcastic, witty, sultry reputation. And for him- Super-Annoy, of all people- to just throw you off so easily?

“I’m not a Titan,” you decide on explaining, almost asking.

“Become one, then.”

“I don’t have the money to move in. The rent must be crazy.”

“I’ll pay for you.”

“Conner,” you swallow. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His head pops up. When you turn yours a little, you can look up at him, and he can look down at you. “Move into the Tower.”

Now your eyes are wide, and his are relaxed. No, Conner’s are focused, drilling into your own. “I’m... hardly Titan’s material.”

This was true. You’ve been skirting the gray line far longer than you’ve known Superboy, and he’s been super since the beginning of his creation. The first time you’d met was about ten seconds before you’d robbed a bank and sent him a wink before disappearing.

“You just told me, not five minutes ago, that you helped a small business. Helping people is what heroes are all about. You can do this, Y/N. You are Titan’s material.”

Shit. He’s right.

“Why not?” Conner questions.

“I... um...”

You’ve never lived with another person before. Your family, once upon a time, sure. Not friends. Not Dick Grayson, or Kori, or Rachel fucking Roth. And certainly not Superboy- Super-Annoy. Not someone you have a ‘thing’ with. What would that mean for the two of you? And when things go terribly, terribly wrong, what then?

Gotta’ think fast.

Your face is wiped clean, replaced by your signature smirk. “Get me a phone first. Then I’ll consider it.”

Conner doesn’t budge though. You wonder if X-Ray vision can see through lies too. “I mean it,” the boy tells you. “I want you here.”

“I have to survive the night in the building with boy prodigy and star flame.”

“Starfire.”

“Whatever. I have to do that first. There’s a reason we sneak me in, you know.”

Your free hand reaches up and cups Conner’s cheek without you telling it to. You ask your brain why, but yet, your palm doesn’t move. It feels over Conner’s cheekbones, encouraging you to look deeper into his somehow soft eyes. Your fingertips can even feel his hair, which is in need of a wash, as they get comfortable.

“For you,” you finish the sentiment, voice now genuine- also not predicted. “Sneaking in for you.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a secret,” the boy above you whispers, pouring his entire heart into it.

You answer with a snort.

If anything, Conner’s the secret. If he had his way, the two of you would probably be on your honeymoon at this moment. Hell, your whole relationship and subsequent marriage would be a honeymoon. You’re the one letting him follow you around. You’re the one never giving him just what he wants.

But then again, you’re the one who keeps coming back. Conner’s the one that never left.

“Trust me,” you nod with a humored grin. “I don’t.”

Conner sighs and falls back down to rest behind you. “Good.”

Besides his breathing, then there is silence.

Really? Telling you to move in? Of course it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to him. Of course he has the solution to all the reasons why not. Your fairly certain that Conner hasn’t thought about this until mentioning it, but even then, how did he have all the answers so fast? Where would you stay? With him? Sandwiched between Conner and Wally West playing video games for the rest of your life? Dying after Donna Troy catches you accidentally stealing her lunch?

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Conner begins, “but you should really stay the night.”

In response, you practically burst. “You hate being told what to do!” you say as you squirm in his arms. “Now you’re giving me suggestions?”

Conner sits up again so he can look down at you with a little frown. Luckily, it’s too nice of a view to be really scared of anything he could do. “Shh! You’re gonna get caught, Y/N.” Then Superboy’s eyes widen a little. “If you lived here, you wouldn’t have to be so quiet, either. You could just come through the front door.”

“Oh my God,” you squeeze your eyes closed. “Conner...”

One battle at a time.

“Fine,” you begrudge. “I’ll stay the night.”

Conner tightens his grip around your form happily in response. “Will you need any help in the morning?”

“No. No, I got it.”

Silence.

Say it. Say it. Say it.

“Conner? I, uh...”

Say it.

“I don’t have any sleeping clothes,” you lie.

“Sleeping?” you hear the boy behind you whisper. “I didn’t think we were going to be sleeping.”

“Now who’s going to get us in trouble?” you smirk. “Seriously though. I’ve been wearing my suit all day.”

“I can get you out of it.”

“You can’t just see through it?” you question. “Don’t you have X-Ray vision?”

Conner groans. “You’re ruining it.”

You smile. Conner’s the only partner of yours you realize you’re actually happy to be around. “I think you just want us to get caught.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Yayyy. Request finished. Next I have a Reverse Flash request, and then I should be good with the DC requests for now. Other than that I have some Jason Todd things, something for Damian and 2 fics for a character I haven’t written for before but are looking pretty good. I hope this satisfied the prompt that I was given in the request. Let me know anything you want or whatever.

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replicantdeviancy · 3 years ago

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It had been almost thirty-six hours since his encounter with Heisenberg, & in that time, much had happened. While observing the grounds beyond the castle walls Connor had stumbled upon a secretive meeting place, within what appeared to be the crumbling remains of an old church. There had been scaffolding left erected but abandoned against the damaged walls, for no repair work had been performed in some time - the structures were caked in dust. But it was not the location itself which had piqued the spy’s interests, rather the event taking place therein; an assemblage of the changeling witch & her coven. The Four Lords, those Mother Miranda claimed as her adoptive children.

What a farce. The so called children appeared to be just as dysfunctional as she, their disturbances laid out clearly in the candlelight of the once sacred place. From one of the many holes in the decaying building, Connor had listened silently, curious as to the agenda of these delusional beings & their black goddess. While he learned much by that which was spoken, it was the silence which conveyed far more to him.

Dimitrescu sat in a giant chair which must have been fashioned specifically for her. She was cross legged & enjoying a cigarette affixed into an antique holder, appearing quite elegant as she did. She was trying her best to hold in her disgust, the utter boredom which looked in her bright eyes. Beneviento sat mute as always, the high-pitched voice of her most precious doll echoing through the old brick structure. She made little reference to anything expressly coherent, more interested in aggravating the others. Moreau did not sit, but instead hung closely to Miranda. He had little to say. Heisenberg took his place upon a pew, resting back casually as discussions continued. He was riled on occasion, though most often by the giantess.

A curious family dynamic. It held a place within his musings as Connor found himself out beneath the stars for the third night in a row. This evening he had chosen to climb upwards towards a lookout at the top of the trail which led into the village, as it felt like the best spot to observe for the night. Lycans sometimes wandered the elevated grounds, but he wasn’t worried about them. They weren’t very bright, but they were quick. His trigger finger was quicker.

As dusk had approached & painted the sky a gentle, quiet black, Connor had settled in at the base of a thin tree. His jacket was zipped up tightly around him, insulated gloves kept his lean hands warm. Eventually the fires inside of the little houses were stoked & candles were lit, torches lighting darkened paths. Like this, the village of shadows appeared to be a sleepy little place in the mountains of Romania, not the hellish cult’s haven it truly was. Connor knew he had to remain objective here, focus on the mission. But being along like this, beneath nightfall & the blanket of twinkling starlight, he became a little nostalgic.

His mind drifted to the Iron Lord again & the conversation they had had not more than a day ago. If one could call it a conversation. It was more of something akin to a cat & mouse game, one in which neither appeared the victor yet neither felt they had lost. The pretty spy was still alive & functional, a fact that would have had him bewildered had he not believed he’d impressed upon Heisenberg some kind of intrigue. He expected it was a rare few that did not look upon him in fear, even less challenged him without the want to dominate him. There was no need, no desire to. They two stood upon an equal playing field & it had been recognized.

Connor would have been lying if he claimed he had not considered the mans invitation, though he wasn’t naïve enough not to know better than to accept. Though the Iron Lord appeared genuine in the moment, & Connor was confident in his ability to detect falsehoods & differentiate from truth, it wouldn’t have been impossible to deceive him. Highly unlikely, but not impossible.

Why am I thinking about this?

Why, indeed. There was no reason to attempt another encounter directly in order to obtain information. & if Heisenberg wanted his attention so much, then–

That thought ended abruptly as the youthful spy suddenly felt the distinct sensation of eyes upon him, a change in the air. It was faint, but his ears noted the absence of sound where sound once was; the gentle serenade of nature in evening, the breeze through the brush. A whiff of something danced briefly upon his senses, lost in the tepid wind a moment later. Musk, aged cloth. Leather. Someone was standing off to the side of him. His eyes drifted towards the unseen one in the pitch darkness, hands moving silently towards his belt. One hand upon the flashlight, the other to his side arm.

Quick as lightning Connor turned, his slender frame moving from a seated position to one knee as he aimed. His flashlight was perched beneath the gun, wrists in a crossed pose, illuminating the darkness. Connors visage was stern, eyes forward & hardened. Steely. Until his brain fully registered the target that had found himself in his crosshairs. After that, his body relaxed, though with exasperation. The firearm was lowered & a huffed sigh left the spy’s frowning lips. Heisenberg. ❝ ...Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to sneak up on people? ❞ he questioned. There was an edge to his dusky tone, but no fire. He wasn’t angry, just tired. His gun was shoved back into it's holster as he moved to sit in one fluid motion. The flashlight was switched off with a soft but audible click, & returned to it’s place. He didn’t need it. There was no danger here.

@macabremachinations

#macabremachinations #˾ ᴜᴍʙʀᴇʟʟᴀ ᴄʜʀ��ɴɪᴄʟᴇꜱ ̚ ;; ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᶦⁿ ʰᵉˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉᵃᵈ ʷᶦˡˡ ʷᵃˡᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵃʳᵗʰ ▐ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ #> ˢᵘᵇʳᵒᵘᵗᶦᶰᵉ ᴵᶰᶦᵗᶦᵃᶫᶦᶻᵃᵗᶦᵒᶰ - ˾ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ̚ - ᴱˣᵉᶜᵘᵗᵉ

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odos-bucket · 3 years ago

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More Protective!Batdad Fic, With the Pretense that this is a Series Mostly Given Up

They’re returning to the cave after Robin’s first night out since the start of Tim’s parents’ most recent stay in the city. It had been a routine patrol, made noteworthy only by the return of the boy wonder. They’d gotten into a bit of a scuffle with some muggers towards the end of the night, but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle, and they had both come away from it unharmed. At least that was what Bruce thought at the time. And he paid pretty close attention to things.

But when the domino mask comes off he can clearly see where Tim has a black eye, and a bruise blooming over his cheek.

“What happened?” He leaves his cowl and gloves on the computer, and takes a few steps closer to where Tim is fishing his civilian clothes out of a bag.

“Huh?” Tim bunches up the shirt he’s holding into a fist, and his eyes dart around for a moment without settling on Bruce. “Oh.” Fingers of his free hand fly up to hover over his injured cheek. “Thief got in a lucky shot.” His voice is a fraction of an octave higher than usual.

Bruce’s eyes automatically narrow as he begins his mental recall of the events that had transpired less than twenty minutes prior.

“I didn’t see you get hit,” he says slowly.

Tim just shrugs.

The bruise is too dark to be less than half an hour old anyway. It had to have come from sometime earlier in the day. It had been hidden beneath the mask though, and they’d both already been in full costume when they’d met earlier that evening.

Before Bruce can say anything else, Tim is ducking into a private alcove to finish getting changed. He’s a bit slower at it than usual, and Bruce wonders if that could be indicative of other hidden injuries, or if Tim is just drawing it out to avoid further scrutiny. Several minutes go by, and he finally clears his throat.

“Tim?”

“Just a second.” The words come out quickly.

Bruce goes to change himself, only to find that Tim still isn’t out by the time he’s finished and returned. He knocks gently on the wall that’s partitioning off the section of the cave where he’s changing, and hears a soft startled gasp, before Tim’s scurrying out.

“Yep! Sorry! Sorry! Just a little spaced.”

“Tim.” Bruce hopes his voice sounds gentle. “What happened?”

“What do you mean? I told you-“

“Don’t lie to me. That didn’t come from just now.” Bruce pauses and sighs. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Tim shakes his head.

“I won’t tolerate you hiding injuries from me.”

“I’m not.”

They stand looking at each other for several drawn out, silent seconds.

“Were you patrolling on your own?” Bruce asks after a minute. “I’m going to find out if you-“

“No.” Tim sounds even less like his normal self when he cuts in. “I promise I wasn’t.”

“All right. So what is it? Did something happen during the day?”

As much as Bruce wants to know about it if Tim’s getting into fights at school, or somewhere else, he recognizes that it may not be his place to intervene if this wasn’t vigilante related. That’s fine (at least so he tells himself) but he’d like assurance that someone’s looking out for his Robin.

“Is it something you can handle with your parents?” He tries.

Tim’s eyes widen for half a second, and then he bursts into tears.

Bruce briefly freezes, before returning to himself and rushing to Tim’s side.

“I’m so stupid,” Tim is muttering, barely discernibly. “I’m sorry. I was so stupid.” The words barely come out between bouts of gasping, shuddering sobs.

Bruce wants to beg him to tell him what happened, but settles for reaching out a careful arm, and slowly pulling him close. Tim freezes for a fraction of a second, before melting into his side, continuing to mumbled unintelligibly.

“It’s all right,” Bruce tries to sooth, very aware that he doesn’t really have the voice for that sort of thing. “You’re okay.” He desperately wishes that he could offer some more specific reassurances, but he still doesn’t know what’s going on. “I’ve got you,” he settles for, running a hand through Tim’s hair.

They stay like that for a while, Tim crying, and apologizing, and Bruce telling him it’s okay, and wishing he could be sure that it was true. Eventually the tears dry up, and the breathing evens out, and the tense body beside his goes limp with exhaustion. Bruce doesn’t let go, not until he feels Tim starting to shift around restlessly. And even then he stays close enough to be easily collapsed into again, should the need arise.

“I messed up,” Tim says, after a few false starts.

“Whatever it is, we can fix it.” A ridiculous promise, and one that Bruce normally wouldn’t be making without more information. But somehow- without Bruce meaning to allow him to- Tim has joined the narrow ranks of those capable of inducing him to speak or behave a-procedurally.

Tim shakes his head.

“Tim, I want to help, but you have to give me something to work with.”

Tim is too focused on keeping his eyes dry, and his breathing steady to respond.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Bruce forces himself to offer, forces himself to remember that this child isn’t his, doesn’t need him the way the other robins did.

Another sob escapes Tim, and he buries his face in his hands. There’s a pang in Bruce’s chest as he realizes what he has to ask next.

“Did something happen at home?”

The question is met with heavy breathing, followed by a drawn out silence, and then, finally, a slow nod.

Bruce forces down his rising anger, as Tim finally gathers himself to speak.

“I don’t know if they want me to go back.” It comes out in a hoarse whisper. “Dad was so mad at me.”

Fury coils in Bruce’s gut, and lies in wait for his next question to be answered.

“Did he do this?” He gestures to the black eye.

“It’s never happened before,” Tim rushes to say. “Nothing like this ever has.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Bruce practically growls. Tim, to his credit, seems entirely unaffected by the intensity of the tone.

“I started it,” he says.

“… There’s no way that’s true.”

“Bruce,” Tim chokes out, leaning back into him.

“I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Bruce pulls him close like he could absorb Tim into himself, like if he holds him tightly enough he can keep him safe- as if he’s actually capable of keeping any child safe. This will never happen again, he wants to say, I won’t let it. His mind is racing. He doesn’t want to let Tim back into that house, doesn’t want to let him out of his sight really. He’s never been able to fathom how the Drakes can have this selfless, determined, brilliant child in their care, and be so willing to spend all their time away from him. He’s been wary of them from the beginning. But he never imagined that they could pose this kind of danger to their son.

“This is so stupid,” Tim grumbles into Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce can’t disagree, though he’s a little worried that they aren’t on the same page about what exactly that means.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Tim continues after a minute. “I thought- I thought things were going well!”

“Telling me was the right thing to do,” Bruce says quickly. “If somebody’s hurting you- no matter who it is-“

“That isn’t what I mean.” He takes a deep breath, and leans back a little bit.

Bruce watches patiently, as Tim calms his nerves, and steadies himself.

“I… told Mom and Dad about Connor,” he breathes. “Not the alien clone thing, obviously. But, I told them that I was seeing someone- a guy- and I don’t even know why I did it! In the back of my head I knew there was no way it was going to go over well. I knew that. I was just, I don’t know, feeling happy, and okay for the first time in a while. So I thought-“ He shakes his head. “I mean I didn’t think; that was the problem. And Mom reacted the way I knew she- the way I should have known she would. And I got mad, and I started yelling at her, and Dad, when I yelled at her, Dad, that’s when he- he…”

Bruce’s heart breaks. It’s not like he’d imagined that Jack Drake would have a good reason for lashing out at his son, but this was nothing.

“I’m still not hearing anything that you did wrong.” He forces himself to stay calm.

“Trying to come out to them was dumb! I didn’t need to do it. They were leaving soon anyways, it shouldn’t have mattered!”

“No. They shouldn’t have hurt you,” Bruce says fiercely. “This is part of who you are, so it should always matter. It’s not stupid to assume that people who are supposed to care about you would want to know more about what’s going on in your life. Tim, you did nothing wrong.”

He runs a hand up and down his back, like he’d done when Dick had nightmares as a child.

Tim glances at him out of the glassy corner of his eye, and scrubs his hands roughly over his face, before mumbling something that Bruce doesn’t catch.

He waits for a beat, before quietly asking if Tim will repeat himself.

“They don’t want me coming around here anymore,” he says more clearly, voice suddenly empty. “They- they saw that interview you did a couple years back, where you came out as bisexual.” His face is tinged pink, ashamed to even be repeating his parent’s words. “So they think that I, I don’t know, caught it from you, like it’s contagious or something. But I didn’t know where else to go! And I- I don’t want to give this up…“ He gestures broadly to the cave around them as hiccuping breaths overpower his speech.

Bruce just holds on as Tim continues to cry, softly repeating that he didn’t do anything wrong, carefully keeping the furious voice raging, ‘those bastards won’t take you away from me,’ under wraps. He doesn’t let himself think about every other instance of his sexuality being cited as a factor making him an unsuitable guardian that he’s committed to precise memory, the vicious arguments that his children should be taken away from him, the fact that if he hadn’t been born so lucky in so many other ways they might have been. Tim doesn’t need him to be angry, Tim needs him to be smart.

They wait out the tears again, until they’re not falling so heavily, and Tim is shuddering occasionally, rather than continuously, and can compose himself enough to speak.

“I didn’t mean to dump all this on you,” he says once he’s mostly calmed down.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Bruce threads his fingers through locks of lightly tangled hair. “I’m so glad you told me what happened. You’re going to stay here tonight, okay?”

Tim is with them often enough when his parents aren’t around that they already have a room made up for him, a room which after less than a year has come to show more evidence of his personality than his bedroom at the Drake’s mansion.

Tim nods.

“Thank you.”

Bruce squeezes his shoulder.

“Do you still have pajamas here? Or do you need to borrow a pair of Dick’s?”

It’s something easy in a moment where everything feels impossibly difficult.

“I brought them with me when I went home.” His breath catches on the last word, and it only half comes out.

“That’s all right. Dick won’t mind.”

Now it’s just a matter of getting themselves upstairs. There will be more to worry about tomorrow, much more, and it will undoubtedly only increase in the days that follow. Bruce will have to figure out whether or not Jack and Janet Drake are looking for their son, and he can’t quite decide which the worse option is at this point. He’ll also need to make sure he understands what exactly is within his power to do to keep Tim safe. Bruce stops himself before he can begin preparing for the future too obsessively. He brings himself back to the present moment, stairs, pajamas, bed, all very manageable tasks.

He just really doesn’t want to let go of the child in his arms. The realization that Tim might need him more than he thought is overpowering, making him feel violently protective, and a little bit terrified.

Some of the strain of the moment breaks when Tim uses the side of Bruce’s arm to stifle a yawn, but it’s still a little while longer before they’re ready to head upstairs.

When they do, Tim wanders up to his room, where Bruce hopes he’ll find easy rest. He stays awake and finds Alfred. There’s a lot they need to talk about.

#batfam #batfamily #tim drake #bruce wayne #batman and robin #batman #dc #batdad #jack and janet drake #my writing

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vargassdottir · 3 years ago

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CHICAGO MED | Two Halves Make A Whole

✮ Prologue - Setting the Scene ✮

[Chapter List] [Part One]

(Starting Season One Episode One)

(This series will follow the series, starting 1x01 and roughly sticking to the timeline and events of the Chicago Med with some divergence from canon to incorporate the original character and events I’ve included to involve them.)

Chicago Med (One Chicago) : Connor Rhodes x Original Female Character

Warnings: Swearing, adult themes, usual hospital/emergency department blood and gore.

That morning was supposed to be easy. There’s a list of things to do, items to have prepared and packed the night before, scrubs sized and in your new locker ready and waiting. She liked the order of it in their otherwise chaotic lives, and her fiancée, even though he’d laugh at her incessant need to organise well in advance, couldn’t deny that this time it was helpful.

It’s why, when the train he was catching that morning derailed, he knew he had surgical gauze and bandages in his backpack and was already working on patients when the paramedics arrived. Hell, he could practically hear her jibing as he tied off a tourniquet for the middle-aged woman he was currently trying to ensure didn’t bleed out from a nicked artery.

“I won’t need this stuff, you know they do have gauze at a hospital.”

“Yeees and the last time I said that, I ended up stuck in a pile up for six hours tearing my second favourite shirt to pieces. I still miss that shirt..” there was a wistful sigh, and an amused laugh between the two of them, before she’d continued “Save the shirt. Carry the bandages.”

Connor couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory, earning a raised brow from the woman’s husband, gripping onto his wife’s hand with earnest concern. With an apologetic half smile, he nodded and moved on.

All the while, Mia, much to her fiancées chagrin about the painful beeping of the dawn alarm, had arrived early to the emergency department at Gaffney morning. Having already spoken to Goodwin, had the full guided tour by a remarkably well informed and equally witty nurse named Maggie, and changed into her burgundy scrubs and organised the items in her locker according to size and usefulness, she felt prepared for the inevitable storm that would likely soon consume them.

An auburn haired doctor, Halstead, as he’d been introduced to her as, and a heavily pregnant yet desperately sad, dark haired Doctor Manning had quickly become co-workers she had found rapour with, remarking on their shared love of an author that she’d caught Doctor Halstead reading as she met him in the doctors lounge earlier, and the absolute tragedy that was drinking coffee without milk. She’d chosen to stand behind her fellow female doctor when the great unveiling of the new ED had begun, hoping to catch some tips on which nurses were less likely to bite her head off and any regular patients that she should watch out for when their pagers set off in a chorus of chirps.

She hated the sound of those things.

Not for a lack of care of what they preceded, naturally if she was apathetic to the pain of others she would have never become a doctor in the first place. No, she simply hated the sound because, in her mind, it felt taunting.

Patients she could handle; find the injuries, assess the history, treat the symptoms and causes, stitch them back together… An elegant dance between science and compassion. It was the families she couldn’t bare. The questions, the accusations of how she wasn’t doing all she could, the ever shifting emotions she had to compensate for during every update.

Shaking her head, Mia snapped herself from her internal monologue of “fuck pagers”, and grabbed several pairs of surgical gloves to shove into her white-coat pockets and a stethoscope that she draped around her neck, and began to prepare for the onslaught of, from what she’d gathered from Maggie and April, a train derailment only a few miles away.

Looking down at her feet for only a moment, the same pair of lucky sneakers she had owned since she began her medical residency, what felt like a lifetime ago, battered and their black shade closer to grey now, she took a deep breath. Straightening up, she pushed the strands of loose hair that had already unravelled from her ponytail back behind her ears before she snapped on the first pair of gloves, and turned to the ED doors.

#chicago med #one chicago #fanfiction #fanfic #chicago med fanfiction #connor rhodes imagine #connor rhodes imagines #chicago med imagine #one chicago imagine

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hes-writer · 4 years ago

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Halo

Summary: y/n feels guilty for missing harry

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, mentions of vomiting and nausea, mentions of implied smut

Word Count: 7648 words

A/N: @devilinbetweenthesheet-s : don’t cheat and don’t do drugs, kids.

inspired by one of my anons. some parts are real and some parts aren’t :)

Tarnish (1) . Halo (2) . Reign (3) .

Reign Taglist

___

When the relationship ended, Y/N imagined being bed-ridden. A lack of motivation to do anything casual such as standing. Watching the television seemed to be a task that required all of her energy and full-attention to be able to understand the subtitles on the screen. Her friends would knock continuously on her door to be met with no response because she was asleep or Y/N couldn’t be bothered with pitiful conversation asking her if she was okay. She would be too tempted to ask how Harry was doing when she could easily pull out her phone and search his name in a few quick taps. These used to be easy; as easy as breathing and loving Harry was easier than loving herself.

How was he doing? Y/N hoped that Harry was regretting his actions. She was yearning for the vibration of her phone to restart her heart like an AED stuck to her chest, sending her pulses to remember that they were not what they used to be. Or maybe the snippy ringtone Y/N had set specifically for him and only him would ring through the air as she wallowed in a burrito blanket. Frankly too emotionally worn out to even move an inch as she watched her phone face down on the bedside table of her new apartment.

Life doesn’t wait until Y/N is capable of being back on her feet before thundering down with the foundations of living. Five days into the breakup did she realize that the money she had saved up would be spent faster than she can replace it if she stayed any longer at the hotel near the heart of downtown. It was a spur of the moment decision to ‘treat herself’; she thought she deserved it after being called names and thrown aside like a used toy. And on the fifth day, she was on the lookout for places to live in as she adjusted to her new life without Harry.

It wasn’t like Y/N was completely dependent on him. She had a well-paying job; just not as good as his. And she could afford a nice apartment, just not as nice as his mansion. Nor did it have the same toasty feeling that enveloped her when she walked through the doors. Y/N told herself that she would give it a few months; that maybe it was just the change in setting that misplaced every bone in her body because everything she did felt off. Deep down, Y/N knew that things weren’t the same without him. She could either live a life reminiscing how she--they--used to do things or she could change and adapt to this ball thrown at her.

The decision was in her hands, yet she hesitated with every gambling thought crossing her mind. On one hand, she was used to a routine. It was a routine that never got boring to her, solely because Harry found a way to make things interesting; refreshing. On the other, Y/N would be in a never-ending comparison of how much she missed him or pat her shoulders because she was able to compromise the old parts of her that existed when Harry was around and to integrate it with a new version that was wary of anybody getting close to her.

The challenge was not easy when the media got hold of the news. It seemed as if everywhere Y/N went---mixed reactions and judgement attacked her with doe eyes offering the best of luck or disgusted snickers telling that she deserved it and that they--Camille and Harry--were perfect for each other. But when Y/N quite literally was carrying a piece of him and her inside her stomach did she step up to what she had to become to raise her baby.

It seemed like yesterday when Y/N stared at her reflection in the en-suite bathroom of Harry’s home, pinching at a subtle layer of fat that she was sure wasn’t there a few days ago. Bloated cheeks that added a fullness to her face were substituted as the result of a bright smile plastered on her face because she Harry had pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before she left for work that day. The sudden aversion to fragrant foods she absolutely adored flew right over her head and excused as a bad batch.

And the most painful memory was the day Harry and Y/N’s relationship ended. The beginning of something new, something beautiful was right under their noses. Y/N wondered what could have happened if she didn’t find the letter. When the symptoms of pregnancy became more obvious each day; would Harry notice the change in her physique? The crinkle of her nose when met with a sandwich containing pickles that she used to love?

Y/N couldn’t help but envision holding the stick with a tiny ‘+�� pixelated by dark colours. Sitting on the closed toilet seat as she contemplated delivering the news to him in the early hours of the morning after she was awoken by a flush of morning sickness. Y/N daydreamed about watching his sleeping face smooth out of any lines as he dreamed peacefully and wondered if this was still a part of what he wanted with her. Maybe she would jostle him gently, rousing him with a poke as she kneeled on his side of the bed, flailing the pregnancy test between her fingers until he blinked the sleep out of his waterline. Harry would present her a doozy smile before realizing what she held--to which he would sit up faster than he had ever done, gazing at her with a pleading stare. For Y/N to confirm that yes, she was pregnant. Yes, they were going to have a baby and yes, Harry was going to be a father. A little family in the works.

But that daydream was reeled in like a fishing hook in grave waters as reality grounded her. She was apparently two months into her pregnancy when Y/N had mistaken the sickness as an inevitable reaction to finding out his infidelity. Hearing him say the term of endearment as if he had not used it with another person made Y/N want to grab him by the shoulders to hold a steady contact, jostling him until answers spilled out of his mouth. Answers that Y/N deemed justifiable but was there ever a good excuse for cheating? She wanted to strip him out of the apologies filling his mouth and get straight to the question of why he had done it. But even then, Y/N knew that there was no way she was going to be satisfied with his answers. It was just a matter of her accepting that the idea of ‘what could have been’ would live inside her head because she was the only one that knew about the life inside of her.

Harry had not made an effort to speak to her besides arranging the dates to pick up her things. She had to wear large clothes to hide her growing belly because Y/N wasn’t sure if she even had the right to tell him something so personal anymore. It fit well with the narrative that she was a depressed homebody that craved the touch of his fingertips on her skin, the taste of his lips on her tongue and the weight of his arms around her. Albeit that he was the father, Harry had obviously moved on way before they ended; a little over a year ago now to be precise.

Y/N was almost one-hundred percent sure that Harry had blocked her number. Scratch that, she was certain if the way her messages failed to send were anything to go by. She could handle seeing the handle of ‘read’ on the bottom of a message because at least she’d know that Harry did read it and that he was aware. But watching the encircled, crimson exclamation point appear was just another reminder that he planned to erase four years from his life to start anew.

____

So what if at four months, Y/N was attending another doctor’s appointment by herself, trying to amount to as little attention as possible? Well, today was the day that she was going to find out the baby’s gender. Her bump was definitely noticeable now and extremely uncomfortable especially sitting on a plastic, grey chair in the waiting room. The device in her hand felt like stone perceiving the icon of blaring red that indicated yet another failed message to the contact previously named ‘My Love’, now to just ‘Harry’.

Y/N: I’m finding out the gender of our baby today

Y/N: I’m hoping for a girl but either way, I just want the baby to be healthy.

“Y/N? Dr. O’Sullivan is ready to see you,” The nurse clad in scrubs walked out with a clipboard gripped in her hands.

Y/N stood up, pausing to retrieve her items. She took a breath before entering the room, catching sight of the doctor in his stereotypical white coat focused on the computer screen that showed her information.

“You know what to do. Good luck today,” The nurse mused, handing her a folded hospital gown to change into as she pointed towards the direction of the room with a little nook to change privately. After struggling a bit with pulling off her top, Y/N tied the strings of the hospital gown.

“Hi, Y/N. How are you today?” He asked, standing up to gather the items he would need. Y/N made herself comfortable on the small bed, the white paper crinkling as her weight shifted.

She sighed deeply, “I’m alright. Really excited, actually,” A grin appeared on her face with just how close she was to find out the gender of the baby, “How about you?”

“Good as always,”

Connor O’Sullivan was the name of the doctor. They met when Y/N was in search of the top-tier family doctor’s around the city and instantly had a connection. He had a trustworthy aura that Y/N deemed acceptable to guide her to a healthy pregnancy. A friendship had definitely blossomed around the doctor-patient boundary but they stayed within their limits. Inside jokes existed but it had never crossed the line. And sure, touches to the shoulder happened once in a while but nothing had escalated further.

Y/N’s baby bump was exposed to the cool room. She shivered when a gloved hand applied the gel on her taut skin. Stretch marks were littering the sides of her tummy. It was itchy and uncomfortable. However, it was tolerable especially after applying a combination of creams and oil to soothe the ache. It was also another reminder that she really was about to become a mother.

“Cold?” Connor teased with an easy smile. Y/N rolled her eyes upwards in response, “You’re the doctor here,”

He chuckled, directing her attention to the small screen beside them. The static fizz of black and white slowly morphing to a more discernible image as he attached the device to her skin, finding the perfect angle to produce a clear picture. The first time Y/N saw her little baby; it was the size of a lemon. The next couple of visits showed progression in their growth; tiny baby feet, stubby legs, and sprouting fingers could be seen on the ultrasound.

They looked more and more like a proper baby now--like the ones one would see in the clinics and Y/N really couldn’t believe that she was about to find out their gender. Y/N couldn’t tell just by inspecting the picture because of her lack of expertise.

“You’re having a. . .” Connor began, edging his voice at the last word. He wiggled his brows as Y/N’s eyes widened.

She balled her fists, “Oh, hell. Just spit it out, C,”

“A girl. You’re having a little girl,” He peered up at the patient, watching tears fill the brim of her waterline as she gasped, palming her slightly open mouth.

“A-a girl?” Y/N craned her head to look at the square image, blurrier because of the tears but beautiful nonetheless. “I can’t believe I’m having a girl,”

The doctor wiped the gel off of her tummy with a cloth, switching off the machine as he waited for another reaction out of her. Y/N tossed her legs to the side, putting on her slip-on vans to fully-comprehend the news. “I’m having a baby girl,”

Connor nodded, releasing an ‘oomph’ at a sudden pressure around his middle. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, feeling the tube of his stethoscope dangling against her cheek. Her lashes fluttered, happy tears streaming out. He returned the gesture with soft rubs on her lower back.

“I’m sorry, I’m so emotional,” Y/N pulled away with a huff, using her fingertips to rub the wetness towards her temple. “I’m so happy but I just wished that he was--,” She cut herself off, pursing her lips as an image of Harry carrying their baby appeared in her head.

“I understand, Y/N.” Connor mirrored her distraught expression as he really did feel sorry for Y/N. However, he couldn’t explain the extra twinge in his heart at seeing her frown over a lost love. “You’re doing great on your own,”

She sighed for possibly the tenth time that day, “We both wanted to name her Halo if it’s a girl or Arlo if it’s a boy. It reminds me of what an angel she will be,”

“Wait until she gets older,” Connor joked to lighten the mood, receiving a glimmer from Y/N. “What d’ya say you get changed and I’ll print out this ultrasound, sounds good? A few more months then we can meet baby Halo,”

Halo.

___

Harry’s relationship with Camille was a dream. It was everything he imagined, maybe even better. The first time they dabbled on getting together was four years ago, before Y/N was even around in his life. There could be so many things right about a relationship and it could still be wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the right place, the right time, or they simply had too many disagreements and flaws that both parties were unwilling to work it to make them--work.

Usually, the third time would be a charm but Harry felt that he and Camille didn’t need a third time. As he said, the past couple of months felt like a dream. He could close his eyes and still feel the soft skin of the woman he loves grazing his fingertips. He couldn’t help but transpire into a new chapter of their love; one where it wasn’t just them tumbling in the sheets. When the squeals in the kitchen while making breakfast were paired with pleads for whipped cream on their pancakes; a child.

Harry was old enough to know what he wanted--at least, he thought he was--and a family was in his books. He finally found a partner who had the same mindset in their future; Camille. At first, he was absolutely sure that Y/N could not be erased from; but her name wasn't set in stone and once he found someone better--no way in hell was he going to let that be a missed opportunity.

Camile sighed softly, laying on Harry's bare chest as he pulled the sheets over their clammy bodies. Their orgasms settled in their veins, the rush and panting breaths calming down with each blink of an eye.

With her finger swirling patterns on his skin, Harry stared at the ceiling in hesitant contemplation, “Babe, have you ever thought of getting off the pill?” She paused.

“Uh, sure, but then we would have to use a condom?” Her voice raised at the end in curiosity.

Harry released an awkward chuckle, gently swivelling her body off of him so he could sit up. Reaching over, his fingers found the flip of the light switch that turned the bedside lamp on. He smiled at her appearance, mirroring his stance as she sat on the bed, a sheet clung around her body.

He shook his head, “No, no. No condoms, no pills and, y’know. . .”

The confusion was evident on Camille’s features, “I don’t exactly understand what you’re trying to say, H--,’

“‘M asking if y’wanna try for a baby, love.’

Silence overtook the room. Harry held his breath in his throat, seemingly trying to swallow down the lump that had formed because of her lack of response. She cleared her throat.

“A baby?” Harry nodded with excitement despite the flat tone whipping past her lips. “I--don’t know how to say this, Harry. I’ve never wanted kids.”

His face fell, the words lingering around his head like a flock of birds. The dizzying epiphany rattled his head clear of any other thoughts besides the fact that there was a hole in his book; burnt and toasted with sparks inkling his skin.

“W-why not?” His palms fell flat on the silky sheets, fisting the fabric to keep him settled. “A mini you and a mini-me running around the house. Won’t that be fun, baby? Don’t you want that?”

It almost hurt Camille to see the grin plastered on his face, hopeful eyes practically begging her to change her mind. But she couldn’t.

“Harry, that part will be fun. What won’t be fun is getting huge, morning sickness, weird cravings, hormonal imbalance, the aftermath of labour, the sleepless nights, the puke, the changing diapers, the back pain, the headaches, the fights when they’re older and so much more” Her accent rippled with each explanation rejecting the idea.

Harry huffed, crossing his arms subconsciously to shield himself, “But it’ll be worth it,”

“It won’t be,” Camille scooted closer to him, situating herself on her knees so that she could look into his eyes clearly. “Look, I made up my mind ages ago and I thought you felt the same since you haven’t settled down yet”

“I was jus’ lookin’ for the right person,” His head dipped down, dropping his gaze their intertwined hands. “It’s gonna’ be okay, Cam. We can make it work. We’ll have our own family. We’ll be okay,”

She shook her head in refusal, “It will be okay for you, H.” Harry could feel her hands itching to slip past his. He held her tighter. He didn’t want to lose her. “You can get back to work immediately. I’m a model and it takes time to lose weight. Even when I do--I won’t look the same. It’ll take me months, if not years to even resemble my present body.

“I don’t care how your body looks. You’re still gonna’ look amazing. You think I won’t love you after birthing our little baby?” With brows pressed together, he pouted his lip in curiosity as she rolled her eyes.

Camille sighed exasperatedly, “I don’t want children, Harry. The sooner you understand that the better. It’s MY body. I’ll be carrying the kid around for 9 months. No thank you.” She stood up, stumbling slightly as the sheets tangled around her feet.

He followed suit. His height towered over her as she crouched down to collect the pieces of clothing strewn around haphazardly in a rush to have each other. “But it’ll be MY baby, Cam. OUR baby, don’t you want that?”

Fingernails dug into the skin of her palm, holding her clothes as she spoke, “I don’t, Harry. Why can’t you just accept that?”

In the heat of the moment, Harry couldn’t help but quell the ache in his chest with a memory he thought he had thrown away, “Because Y/N and I planned to have a family. A-and I thought you and I could have one too,”

Camille huffed, keeping her distance. She walked to the bathroom, “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fucking cheated on her then,”

___

His fight with Camille left the both of them on edge, barely able to handle the thick tension surrounding the house. Even though she took refuge in the bedroom and Harry wandered to the kitchen to cool off; it was impossible for them to stay in one place without having another argument.

Harry didn’t mean to let the memory slip past his lip. He hated it when he found himself comparing his past relationships to his current one. He felt that there was no need to do so, especially when the point of all of it was to start anew. Harry guessed that his desire to have a family was too powerful to keep his thoughts in check. The ache bubbling in his chest rose to a boil with each rejection that Camille answered with.

It wasn’t like he didn’t respect her decision. He really did. But Harry didn’t know if he was going to be happy being with her without progressing into something more through the years. What he was asking from her is just as difficult as what she was asking from him. Camille didn’t want to have children and Harry didn’t want to not have kids. There was no room for compromise if they both, mutually, wanted to respect each other's' decisions’ to the absolute fullest. However, the chances of him living a content life were zero to none.

And that was how Harry ended up at a bar, alone, at nine o’clock in the evening. They were invited by his friend, Kora, to a birthday celebration. Harry was reaching the limit of his threshold having to fake a smile and a chuckle while saying, “Camille’s feelin’ a bit sick tonight. ‘S just me,”

The thing with this celebration was that Kora was initially Y/N’s friend. He and Kora had become close friends while he was with Y/N and he guessed that that was the reason why he was invited. Although, it made him wonder why one of Y/N’s best friends invited him when she was aware of what happened between them. Surely, there was no way that Kora would invite Y/N, Harry, and Camille to the same crowded space, would she?

The sudden nervousness swirling at the pit of his stomach came with a quick neck as Harry scanned each premise of the bar. It was difficult considering the dim lighting and endless amounts of heads moving against each other. He hoped to see Y/N; just to see how she was doing! But he also felt like puking the alcohol he consumed because--as much as he wanted to admit it or not--he missed her.

After a half-hour of being vigilant, Harry willed himself to relax by the counter. Leaning one elbow on the wood as he spoke to another person regarding his upcoming album.

‘Yeah, yeah. It’s goin’. ‘M really excited for it cause’ I’ve got a lot of inspiration for some reason,” Harry answered with unyielding precision.

“We both know where that came fro--Oh hi! Sorry, H. Gotta check in on, Johnny,”

He rolled his eyes under closed lids, sipping on his drink, eyeing Kora when he heard a quip of Y/N’s name. Harry inconspicuously moved closer to her, making sure that he didn’t catch her attention.

“You’re not here,” Kora yelled with a whine to her tone. Her drunk self was still coherent enough to embark on the bartender to make another drink for her. However, Harry guessed that her senses were obscured with the way she yelled through the phone despite it being held to her ear and the function tapped to ‘speaker’.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise to make it up to you, Kora,” Y/N’s gentle chuckle rumbled through the speaker, making Harry smile. It was the first time he heard it in a while. He sometimes wondered if he had the right to feel relieved when Harry was the one that blocked her number in the first place.

“It’s my birthday! Why aren’t you here drinking with us?” Kora quietly thanked the bartender.

Harry’s curiosity spiked; why wasn’t Y/N here tonight?

“It’s because I’m pregnant, silly. Can’t really do that when I’ve got a bubba in my tummy,” Both women giggled, Kora, making a sound of acknowledgement, “Ohhh right!”

He really wished that he would have stuck by long enough to hear more of their conversation but Kora’s boyfriend was approaching her and he wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything if he was honest.

She moved on fast, Harry thought. He was definitely sounding like an entitled jerk. Hear him out though; Harry was happy with Camille. Yes, he had been cheating on Y/N for a whole year and yes, she had to find out through a letter but Y/N was pregnant.

Did she really move on that quickly?

___

Despite the guilt gnawing at her for missing her best friend Kora’s birthday, Y/N was also looking forward to getting some sleep. It was a couple of hours after their phone call together when the nauseating tightening of Y/N’s chest woke again and had been for the past three days.

It was a horrible feeling that spread from the confines of her stomach. The bile rising up from her throat that left a burning feeling from the acids that escaped her mouth as she quickly threw the covers away from her legs, running towards the direction of her bathroom where she emptied the remnants of her stomach from last night’s craving of pickles and hot Cheetos. Her chest heaved with exertion as she draped her arms over the white porcelain of the disinfected toilet, hunching over as her stomach seemingly pumped away toxins.

Y/N wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, visibly shuddering as she pointed a finger to flush the toilet. She had a feeling that she won’t be getting any more sleep despite the time being three o’clock in the morning. Halo was insistent on staying up past normal bedtime hours. Y/N sighed, walking lethargically towards the dresser to retrieve her phone before heading to the living room nearby.

Y/N: You up, doc?

The blue loading bar swooped to the right as Y/N sent a message to Connor. She was at the peak of her pregnancy and her due date was occurring within a few weeks. A lot had changed since the day she found out the gender of her baby. Between the emotional trauma of having been broken up with--the hard-hitting fact was that Y/N was pushed into a direction of pregnancy that wasn’t exactly her ideal path. She pretty much preferred the dream-like sequence of having Harry accompanying her to her ultrasounds.

Just as Y/N was about to delve into another imaginary scenario of Harry sending her cute baby onesies that he would absolutely need to purchase for their little one, the humming of her phone pulled her from drowning in pathetic wishes and desires.

Connor: What’s up, Y/N?

She jutted her lips as she typed out a response. Contemplating whether or not to send the message as Y/N’s thumb hovered over the arrow, she paused to wonder why she was feeling so guilty in texting another man months and antecedent her break up with Harry. He was happy with someone else, yet Y/N felt as if her feet were planted in a puddle of sticky glue; unable to move on from the life she built in her head. Although it hurt to admit that Harry only existed in her memories now, reminiscing the spoken words they have discussed was another stab to her already bruised heart.

Y/N: Halo’s keeping me up again..

Connor: Want me to come over?

To keep you company

The reply was instantaneous and she could not deny the flutter of her heart beating subtly despite the extremities it had endured. And Y/N couldn’t help but notice the jitter of her baby bump morphing a plump bulge where Halo had kicked it as if it was a stamp of approval of the man coming over.

It wasn’t the first time that Connor drove to her place at the brink of dawn to keep her company in case the sickness became too much for Y/N to handle. The first time was simply a desperate action because she was rattled by the sudden spike in dizziness and incoherence of her sickness that Y/N wasn’t confident in herself to handle it alone. Times after that were more for his comfort when Connor said that he would ‘rather be safe than sorry’ while he rubbed his palm up and down her back.

Minutes later, a knock on her door sounded, forcing Y/N to haul her plump body to the comfort of the sofa, pausing the rerun of a television show. She waddled towards the entrance, the fit of her pyjama waistband snuggly wrapping around her mid-belly. A stretch of skin exposed between her bottoms and her tank top.

“Hi, thank you for coming,” Y/N greeted shyly, widening the door to let Connor in as he chuckled, toeing off his shoes by the closet door.

He waved her off, “It’s no problem, really,” Connor assisted her back to her couch, aiding her by letting his hands stabilize in the air in case anything happened.

The moment their bottoms hit the cushions did Y/N realize the gravity of the guilt spiralling in her chest. Connor laughed softly, his back resting on the couch with his right arm resting on the top, fingertips barely brushing over her shoulder. He reached over the coffee table to obtain the bowl of freshly popped popcorn, picking one to munch on but not before looking over at Y/N.

“Want some?”

She snapped out of her daze, cheeks heating profusely at being caught blatantly staring at how Connor fit naturally into her home both physically and metaphorically. He couldn’t have appeared at a better time when Y/N not only needed medical assistance and a support group by her side. However, she asked herself if he could be anything more than a friend. She shook her head ‘no’.

“No thanks. I’m quite full,” Y/N pressed a palm to her belly when a kick halted her breath. ‘Okay maybe a little,” She rolled her eyes, scolding Halo. “She’s a hungry one,”

“I’m gonna pop some more popcorn, kay? Be right back,”

Y/N heaved a sigh, watching Connor’s retrieving figure. Her admiration was cut off by the ringing of her phone.

___

Harry wasn’t so sober when he opened the door to his car. He wasn’t in his right mind either when he unblocked Y/N’s number and tapped on her name, switching the screen as it rang. He threw his head back against the headrest, biting his lip when the dial tone rang and rang.

“Hello?”

Harry’s breath hitched, losing his voice momentarily before his slowed brain caught up to move his tongue.

“Y/N? It’s Harry,” He spoke quietly, “Don’t hang up. Hear me out,” His ears stretched to pick up the click of a dropped call but he didn’t hear any.

“Heard from Kora that y’were pregnant, yeah? And I was wondering, whose is it?” The venom in his voice dripped. His drunken stupor rendered him unable to grasp reality.

“I’m not answering that,” Y/N’s tone was firm and direct. Harry could imagine her pursing her lips inwards.

“Why not? Scared that y’gonna have to admit that everything you put on was an act? How can y’move on so fast and give me shit about it?” The parking lot was filled with cars yet Harry could see that he was the only one currently occupying one. If there was a better metaphor of feeling alone in a crowded place; then he would love to hear it.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Harry? You cheated on me! You slept with another woman while we were together. You loved another woman while we were together. For an entire year, you lied to me and deceived me,”

“Jus’. . .answer the question,” He pinched his nose bridge, a headache pounding from the bottom of his skull.

“How dare you speak to me this way? You have no right calling me up out of nowhere,” Y/N lowered the volume of her voice, “and asking all these ridiculous questions,”

“S’not ridiculous,”

She gave a smile to Connor who entered the room with a bowl of delicious smelling popcorn. Y/N clutched the phone to her chest. Connor situated his body beside her with a glimmering smile, his mouth twitching as he eyed her bump, “Can I talk to her?” A gentle question breezed past his lips, moving closer when Y/N gave him approval.

The man kneeled down on the floor, leaning his head downwards to speak to Halo, “Hey little one, y’gotta be nice to momma, okay?” His fingers waved when her feet kicked out. Connor looked up to Y/N with a proud smile, “Did you see that? She responded!”

___

Harry felt his heart clench as a new voice filled the speakers. His neurons were fried with each thought firing endlessly, “Who’s that?

“Don’t call me again,”

The dial tone rung in his ears, echoing in the quiet space of his Range Rover.

___

Pressing the power button for a few seconds, the device turned black and was left on the arm of the couch. The excitement in Connor’s voice brought a dreamy smile to Y/N’s face, chewing on some popcorn. The beating of her heart seemed to double at the sight of him being so thrilled with her baby.

“We can’t wait to see you. I bet you’re gorgeous,” Connor dropped his volume to a whisper to prevent Y/N from hearing, ‘’Like your mom,”

Y/N’s relaxed and comfortable state of mind mindlessly worked her hands to thread the hair on top of Connor’s head. Just like she used to do to Harry. Her expression dimmed at the thought, painting a faint simper when Connor looked at her in surprise before shrugging it off, continuing to talk to her bump. She shivered when a warm pair of lips attached to the skin of her stomach. Gentle pressure planting a kiss as Connor said his goodbyes to baby Halo.

“She’s a smart one, that much I can tell,” He confirmed, moulding his body to the lingering shape he had left behind in his previous position. And Y/N was flustered to say that she might have scooched a little closer to his body, snuggling her head at the junction of his shoulder.

“Can I?” She asked, doe eyes raising a question that would allow them to cross the boundary they had limited themselves to. He nodded reflexively as if he was awaiting this moment. Connor took the initiative to pull Y/N closer to him, subconsciously kissing the top of her head. The scent of the woman’s shampoo wafting through his nose and invading his senses in a sweet smell that he would gladly immerse himself to.

It was the most pleasant feeling for Y/N to completely let go of her former worries about starting anew when Connor was as cozy as a heater. He made Y/N feel safe and secure with his body shielding her and his actions hinting at a subdued attraction he hadn’t fully shown to her.

And Connor was proud of himself for not quite literally freaking out when Y/N smothered her face to his chest as time passed and the sun rays filtered through the blinds as she fell asleep. Her words mumbled in a jumbled mess about how she wished that morning sickness wasn’t called morning sickness.

It wasn’t totally accurate, she complained. She thought that it was a misleading name; catfishing perhaps. He had chuckled in response, tracing his fingers up and down her arm and feeling goosebumps rise on her skin.

The orange hue of the bright star painting the sky lighter and lighter until the pitch-black sight morphed into a mixture of shades that could only be described as beautifully grandiose--just like Y/N’s sleeping face when the sun casts a shadow to highlight her nose, scrunching with the slight graze of the back of Connor’s finger rubbing the tip. Or the way the luminescence caressed the apples of her cheeks where her lashes rested, mouth puffing breaths of air as she allowed herself to be vulnerable for the first time in months.

___

A heavy feeling had settled into Harry's chest after Y/N hung up the phone. The new voice he had heard had unmistakably been a man's. Who was he? Was Y/N having that man's baby?

Before he could help it, Harry was seething. He saw red, and if he were in a children's movie there would be steam coming out of his ears right about now. How dare she move on so fast? How could she have a baby with another man so soon? But when he thought about it; Harry couldn't even recall how long it had been since they'd broken up. It made him feel somewhat guilty. He hadn't meant to forget her. It had just happened.

His guilt soon manifested into frustration-- her being pregnant was a constant reminder that she had moved on with another man. Insecurity clawed at his insides- did he really mean that little to her? 'You cheated on her', his conscience pricked, but he brushed away the thought. He hated being reminded of his infidelity to his fiancée.

His defence mechanism kicked in like clockwork, using aggression to shield his insecurities. He opened his messages app and clicked her contact, typing drunkenly.

Harry: 'Your a whore'

'You're*'

'Diid yu cheat on me? I bet youu did'

'Do u sleepp arond a loot?'

'fck u'

He smiled smugly at his phone screen, satisfied with what he had sent her. He shut his phone off, and started his car, ready to drive back home. He knew he was being irresponsible, but between his current girlfriend not wanting a child and his ex being pregnant with one; he couldn't bring himself to care. He drove himself home, only to find a terribly worried Camille waiting for him to arrive.

He glanced at the huge clock on the wall behind her. 1:32 am. He shrugged his shoulders and brushed past her to their bedroom. In his drunken gait, he knocked over a metal tray. The loud 'clang' made him hiss and clutch his temples, a headache pounding in his skull.

Camille sighed and made her way over to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and muttering a "come here, H" Despite his sour mood, he found himself craving affection. What he wouldn't admit was that he didn't crave Camille's affection in particular. He just wanted to be held and feel safe in someone's arms. Anyone's arms. But despite himself, he mumbled, "m'sorry I left like tha'. Should'nt 've spoken to ya that way,"

She nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "It's okay, Harry, you're back home now. C'mon, let's get you changed and then let's sleep."

He bobbed his head up and down, willingly letting her drag him up the stairs to their shared bedroom, "Love ya,” Camille helped him out of his trousers.

She smiled softly, "Love you too, mon Cheri,” He giggled drunkenly at the showcase of her accent.

___

Harry woke up with a pounding headache, whining as his alarm rang at eight am in the morning. He opened his eyes to see that Camille wasn't in bed with him. His lips fell into a pout because of waking up alone.

There was a note on the bedside table.

'got called in for an emergency meeting for the show next week. be home by 5pm. love you!'

He sighed and reached for the glass of water she had left him. His brows furrowed when he didn't see Ibuprofen next to the water. Y/N left him ibuprofen beside the glass of water. Always. Harry snapped himself out of his daze, reprimanding himself for even thinking about her. Why is he thinking about her?

After a hot shower, Harry made his way downstairs to make himself breakfast. 'Eggs and toast', he thought. Placing 2 eggs in water and setting it on the stove before loading the toaster. He looked mindlessly through the drinks in the fridge, settling on 'Organic Orange Juice'. Y/N had introduced him to this particular brand after he had complained that all the others had too much sugar to be 'healthy'.

___

"This has no added sugar, H," she mentioned, "They sweeten it with honey."

___

Harry groaned, snapping himself out of the daydream, ashamed for thinking about his ex. Again.

He placed his breakfast on a plate and poured himself a glass of juice, sitting at the dining table alone. He chewed slowly with a mouthful as he unlocked his phone, beginning to go through his notifications.

Camille sent him a text. It was a selfie of her at her meeting, smiling and holding up a peace sign. He mirrored the expression, sending a text back

Harry: "stop being so cute"

He clicked the ‘back’ icon.

The second he does, his heart positively skips a beat. Not in a good way, either. Y/N's contact was just below Camille's, suddenly remembering the nasty things he had texted her the previous night.

"Fuck," He whispered under his breath, opening her contact. 'Read' was plastered under the messages he had sent. Y/N had seen them.

Connor had left a few hours later because he had morning rounds at the clinic the next day. Y/N had bid him goodbye with a shy kiss to the corner of his mouth,

“Thanks for coming, C,"

He smiled and pulled her into an embrace "Anytime, angel," into her hair. A warmth spread through her chest--one that she hadn’t felt in a long while.

After Connor drove off (with a final wave from his car window, of course), Y/N walked back in to settle on her couch again. Halo kicked a few times as she sat down, making Y/N squirm and giggle.

"Hi, you little goose! What's got you all excited, hm?" She rubbed over the area where Y/N felt the kick. As if, in response to her mother's voice, baby Halo kicked out again, right where Y/N's palm was. "Are you trying to high-five me, precious girl?"

Y/N cooed at her swelling tummy, a huge smile plastered across her face. "Or are ya just excited about Connor coming over to spend time with us? Got a good feeling about him, have you?"

She feels a gentle kick, it was almost as if the baby in her tummy wanted to say 'yes'. Y/N hummed softly, caressing her tummy, "Me too, angel. I've got a good feeling about him, too."

A few minutes later, Y/N reboots her phone her previously switched off phone so that she could see if Connor had texted her. He had.

C: Thanks for letting me spend time with you and Halo tonight. I loved it. I have a bit of time off on Sunday, do you want to get Pizza?'

Her eyes gleamed, but she hesitated for just a second. Connor had texted her. But so had Harry. He had sent her five messages, and Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted to see what he had to say.

She wanted to make sure before texting Connor back. Y/N was not sure what she was expecting or hoping for, but what she saw was certainly not it.

Harry: 'Your a whore'

'You're*',

'Diid yu cheat on me? I bet you did

'Do u sleepp arond a loot?'

'fck you'

She felt tears stinging her eyes, cursing at the pregnancy hormones that have gotten her feeling this emotional about drunk texts from her ex. Her body ignited with fury quicker than she realized she could. Y/N doesn't hesitate to click the 'block' button to his contact.

She didn't need a man like him around her or her baby. Or her potential boyfriend.

Y/N: 'Hiya!,'

'it was great having you over, and I'd love to hang out! Down for pizza anytime. Halo loves it too :P'

The reply was instantaneous

C: 'Great!'

'See you Sunday, then! What are your favourite toppings?"

Y/N smiled brightly, finding his curiosity incredibly endearing. She typed back a response, gleaming with joy at the fact that she finally had someone she could rely on.

___

"Fuck. fuck fuck fuck," Harry repeated, clicking the call button to Y/N's contact. He needed to apologize. Desperately. He needed her to know that he didn't mean any of those things; he was just drunk. Not that that was an excuse.

'The number you are trying to reach is not in service', an automated voice said.

Harry groaned in frustration, opening her message contact, typing out;

Harry: "I'm so sorry, I don't know what had gotten into me. I was drunk. I'm very sorry, Y/N xx H."

He took a bite out of his toast before looking back at his screen to see if she had read the message yet. He almost wished he hadn't. Harry’s heart plummeted. His chest constricted as tears stung at the back of his eyes. Throwing up the meal he just scarfed sounded like an option right now.

A flaming red exclamation mark met his startled glance, and his chest heaved as he read,

'Not delivered,'

___

As usual, let us know what you thought!

Reign aka pt3 is already up on Patreon (link in bio!)

Reign will be uploaded on Tumblr on Monday, August 31. ___

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what-if-i-imagine · 4 years ago

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“You’re my best friend” were Dick’s words. He could never decide if he took comfort in them or not, unsure of the context in which his soulmate would say them. As he got older, he learned to love them. The words stretched up his right leg, and his mom had told him it meant his soulmate was a runner. In his teenage years he found Wally west who said his exact words just minutes before Dick had said his own “I would do anything for you. Anything.” Which were written right over Wally’s heart.

“You are the coolest person I’ve ever met” were Cass’s words, written on her chest. She didn’t know what they meant for the majority of her life, only learning what they meant and what they were when she was deep in her teenage years. She carried the secret silent fear that her soulmate had already said her words, and she would never know. That was, until Stephanie said them one night in the Clocktower. She had said Steph’s words a month before without knowing it, and Steph was delighted to show her the words “my Batgril” written on the back of her hand.

“I hate you so much” were Jason’s words. He never understood them. If these were supposed to be the words his soulmate said when they fell in love with him, why did they express just the opposite? His father had used the words against him. Had told him even his soulmate would hate him. All the pain the words on his bicep had caused him, he was more than shocked when they were said by Roy on a night of hanging out as a joke, and even more shocked when Roy had shown him the words Jason had said to him two years before on his inner thigh reading “You’re Roy Fucking Harper, you are so much stronger than this. I know you can beat it.”

“You know you want me” were Tim’s words. They went along the under side of his jaw, into his hairline, and he hated them for so long. His soulmate was clearly arrogant and not worth his time if those were really the first words they would say to him after falling in love. Or that’s what he thought, until Kon said them, and Tim knew he was only saying them because he wanted a Tim to want him. Kon’s words delicately written spiraling down his arm, around his wrist, and to his hand was Tim’s immediate response of “you’d be an idiot if you thought I didn’t.”

“Gotham doesn’t deserve a light like you” were Duke’s words. Duke had ignored the words on his bicep for most of his life, knowing he had no interest in finding a romantic partner. Jason had once commented that his soulmate might be an archer like his, but he had begged thought about it farther than that. Then Connor had whispered his words while they were lying awake on the floor, their teammates snoring around them, and he wondered what he was supposed to do. A few years later, after Duke had found proper closure for his parents and fully settled into his new life, he finally said the words that stretched vertically down Connor’s back. “I’m ready now. I hope you still are too.”

“I believe in you, please just believe in me” were Damian’s words. He hadn’t known what to think of them for a very long time. They were not bad by any means, but knowing the line of work he would be in, they were not good either. In reverse to Tim’s, Damian’s words written on him chest were actually the response to the words he would say to Jon when he was fifteen, after Jon had finally gotten back to the right age and come back to him. “I can’t lose you again,” was written across Jon’s collarbones.

“If you think I’m ever letting you go you’re insane” were Barbara’s words. They were written so they circled her stomach, the end and beginning meeting at a point above her spine on her back. She had been devastated when woke up in the hospital, sure the bullet had ruined her words as well as her legs. The only relife in the hospital that day was when she realized her words had been perfectly spaced so the bullet didn’t touch them. Dinah said the words to her in response to Babs’s words that wrapped around her throat saying “please save yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“I love you and I hate it more than anything” were Bruce’s words. They started on his ring finger and made their way down to spiral around his wrist. The words had brought his family pain for a long time, but he had learned to become indifferent to them by the tenth anniversary of his parents’ deaths. When Jason trustee him enough to show his words, Bruce hand pulled off his glove and done the same him hopes to bring his new son comfort. He knew who his soulmate was, had for five years by that point. While he had been toweling off after a shower on Watchtower, he had seen Hal’s bare back and knew. The words “you’re Hal Jordan. If you can’t do this, then do no one can. I believe in you” were written in a way that almost formed wings on his back. Bruce remembered very clearly when he had said those words to him on the mission earlier that day. Hal didn’t say his words until a couple years into Tim being Robin.

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inagetawaycarxo · 4 years ago

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In A Blink Of An Eye | Jay Halstead

❛❛ Local psycho running around breaks into Jay and yns house. Shes alone and he's just getting off work and comes home to find yn hurt really badly...you choose the ending; And connor takes care of her in the ER❜❜-IsaacLaheysAnchor

Pairings: Jay Halstead x Reader, Connor Rhodes x Reader (Ex fling)

Featuring: Jay Halstead, Y/n (Reader), Connor Rhodes, Unnamed Psycho, Maggie, April, Will Halstead, Unnamed nurse, Ava.

Summary: Jay comes home to find y/n all bloody and goes into panic mode.

WARNINGS: angst, jealous!Connor, worried!jay, worried!Connor, hospitals, blood, injured!reader, comfort, plot twists, errors.

Word Count:2591

A/N: Got a Jay Halstead or One Chicago request? Send it in!

The sound of a loud thud and the floor creaking made you look up from your book. Eyes going wide. Shaking in fear. You quietly put your book down, taking the throw rug off your legs as quietly as you can. Standing up quietly. Turning not to make a sound. You cautiously walked towards the kitchen. Grabbing a knife out of the knife block. Cringing at the sound as you took it out.

gulping as you walked out of the kitchen, peeping out behind the wall. You felt relief wash over you as you saw nothing there. Taking a step out from behind the wall. You felt a wave of courage as you took small steps. The knife held out in front of you. Heart rate increasing by the second.

You were so focused on in front of you that you didn’t realize something was sneaking up on you until it was too late.

You felt a strong grip on your hair. Squeezing their hand hard against the back of your head. Slamming your head against the wall hard. It startled you enough to let go of the knife. Making the knife fall to the ground.

They let out a deep grunt. Slamming your head against the wall again and again. They let go. Hastily Taking out a gun from the band of his jeans. You reach up to your forehead, feeling it is sticky with blood. Making you let out a whimper. Bringing your hand down to your eye level. You let out a whimper as you saw blood. Your head pounds.

You crane your neck towards your attacker. Giving them a pleading look. Lips trembling. Eyes welling up with tears. The guy pointed the gun at you. Making you shake in fear.

A tall, disheveled man looked down at you, with a sinister smile. Observing you.

“Please, don’t.” You begged. Scooting away from him.

He ignored your pleas. Lunging towards you, you quickly scrambled up. Only for him to grab a hold of your hair. Yanking you back to him. Then pushing your face into the ground. You tried to crawl away from him, but he grabbed a hold of your ankles. Pulling you back towards him. Rolling you over onto your back. He climbed on top of you.

You tried putting up a fight. Trying to grab his gun but to no avail. He elbowed you hard in the nose. Making you gasp. He took the opportunity to shot you in the shoulder. A sharp pain shot up and down your arm. More tears pouring out of your eyes. Your vision blurring. He shot you, again and again, all in different places, your hands going up in defence. Trying to fight him off.

He kept going till you weren’t fighting him anymore. The pain as unbearable. Blood was covering your clothes. Your body spasming. Your blood was all over him, as well as the ground. He got up putting his gun away. He stood over you looking at you with a satisfied smile. While you just looked at him through glazed eyes. Your breathing labored. Your eyes getting heavy. The guy then turned away from you, leaving you to bleed out on the floor while he exited the home. Spots danced in your vision. Darkness soon surrounded you as your breathing got slower. Heartbeat pumping slowly. The sound of your phone ringing getting distant, as your body slowly shut down…

Jay let out a sigh, as he got into his truck. Putting the keys ignition. Turning the truck on. Blasting the heat, taking out his phone. Unlocking it. Jay tapped the phone icon app. Dialing your number. The sound of the phone ringing. Jay felt an unsettling feeling form in the pit of his stomach, as your voicemail played.

“Hey, babe, I’m coming home now, I will see you when I arrive.” Jay spoke. Ending the call. He looked down at his phone. Dread washing over him.

Something just didn’t sit right with him. You always picked your phone when he rang you. His eyebrows furrowed into confusion.

He quickly put his truck into gear. Putting his seatbelt on. Pressing his foot hard on the accelerator. Speeding out of the parking lot. Going through red lights.

His mind tried to think of excuses as to why you didn’t answer the phone. Maybe you were asleep or taking a nap. Or in the shower or binge-watching or lost in a book. The more he came up with excuses the more anxious he felt.

Jay quickly parked in front the of the house he shared with you. Turning the truck off, yanking the keys out of the ignition. Unbuckling the seatbelt. Getting out of the truck, he locked it in a rush. Rushing over to the front door. Unlocking the door in a hurry. He opened the door. Just as he walked through the threshold he stopped in his tracks. His heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach. Going pale, as he saw you lying limp on the floor. Blood staining your shirt as well as the floor around you.

Jay quickly rushed towards you.

“Babe.” He cried. Tears welling up in his eyes. His heart aching.

“No.” He sobbed. His body shaking with sobs.

“Y/n.” He gasped out. His hand shakingly extending towards your wrist, picking it up and trying to find a pulse, he felt his heartache, even more, when you couldn’t find one. He then moved his index and middle finger to your neck. Feeling slightly relieved when he found a pulse, but it was weak.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m going to take you to the hospital.” He cooed. Reassuring you, but himself more than you.

“Stay with me.” He pleaded as he slipped his left arm behind your knees, his right hand resting on your lower back. Pulling you towards his chest, as he cradled you to his chest. Standing up rushing out of the door. Shutting the door behind him. His eyes were on your face the entire time. his heart beating faster by the second. He felt like he was going to be sick. He couldn’t lose you.

Tears fell rapidly from his eyes, as he unlocked his truck, doing his best to open the backseat door near the driver’s side without dropping you.

“It’s going to be okay, your going to be okay.” He reassured you. Gently laying you on the backseat. He looked at you with a pained expression. Before closing the door and getting into the driver's side without hesitation.

He put the keys in the ignition, struggling to put them in since his hands were shaking. Cursing under his breath as he cried harder. He finally got them in. Turning the key, as the truck roared to life. Putting the truck into gear. He pressed his foot hard against the gas. Making the car speed off, not even bothering to put his seatbelt on. Speeding to Gaffney Chicago Medical Centre, breaking all the road rules. Looking at you in the rear-view mirror now and then. He wiped his tears away, but it was no use they still fell from his eyes.

Jay felt slight relief as he made it to Gaffney Chicago Medical Centre. Jay didn’t bother finding a park, he went straight to wear the ambulance park. Quickly opening the door and rushing to open the backseat door. Grabbing you gently. Carrying you to the emergency area.

“HELP.” He yelled desperately. April and Maggie looked up. Rushing over towards Jay who was holding a limp, bloody you.

“Baghdad.” Maggie instructed Jay. Jay rushed over. Putting you gently down on the gurney. Grabbing a hold of your hand, as Maggie hooked wires to you. While April cut your shirt open.

Jay stared at your chest and abdomen in horror. Lips trembling.

“Jay, you need to leave so we can help her.” April spoke. Giving him a sympathetic look. But Jay wasn’t listening to he kept staring

“Page Dr Rhodes.” Maggie spoke, as she continued to examine you. April nodded her head complying.

Will noticed the commotion happening. Coming over to his brother. His hand grabbing Jay’s shoulder. Giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Jay.” Will spoke. Looking at him with worry in his eyes. As they bagged you.

“She…” Jay barely gasped out.

Jay felt someone rush past him. Which happened to be Connor.

Connor felt his heart leap to his throat. His heart racing. He rushed over to you. Bumping into Jay in the process.

“Y/n.” Connor gasped, putting the disposable gloves on. Taking his stethoscope from around his neck. Putting the ear tips in his ear. Then putting the diaphragm in the middle of your chest.

“She’s been shot, multiple times, her pulse is weak, she isn’t responding.” April told him, as he listened to your heart pump slowly. This made him panic even more.

“Her hearts weak.” Connor sighed, taking the diaphragm away from your chest, and pulling the ear tips out of his ear. Putting the stethoscope around his neck.

“Let's do a scan, see if the bullets are still in there.” Connor ordered. Taking out his flashlight. Turning it on.

“Y/n, can you hear me?” Connor asked as he shone the light in your eyes. But you were unresponsive.

“Dilated pupils.” He sighed. Feeling more dread wash over him. Connor took a step back, as April slid a black pad underneath you, another nurse tilting you, then gently putting you back down.

All of them looked anxiously at the screen. Maggie stroked your hair.

Connor felt like his heart was being squeezed way to tight. As he saw five bullets still in you one in your shoulder, two near your stomach, one near your abdomen and the other one slightly near your heart.

“She needs to go to the OR now.” Connor spoke.

Jay stared at the screen in horror. His face was ghostly white. He felt lightheaded.

“Oh my god.” He gasped out. As Connor, Maggie, April and a nurse pulled the rails up.

Will pulled Jay out of the way as they wheeled you out.

“They are going to help her.” Will reassured Jay, guiding him to the waiting room.

“They are going to save her.” Will spoke. As Jay sat in the seat. Will crouched in front of him.

Jay raised his hands in front of him. His body trembling as a sob left his lips. His hands were stained with your blood.

“It’s okay, Jay, hey look at me.” Will spoke. Putting his hands on Jay’s hands and putting them down.

Jay looked at his brother through tear-filled eyes.

“What if she dies?” Jay sobbed out.

“She won’t, she’s a fighter.” He reassured his brother.

“I can’t lose her. I don’t think I could survive losing her.” Jay sobbed. Will gave him a pained expression. Wrapping his arms around Jay and hugging him. This made Jay break down.

“I can’t.” He sobbed….

Connor, Maggie, April and the nurse rolled you out of the elevator, rolling the gurney to an operating room.

Connor let go, going to scrub his hands. he heard the door open. Ava stormed in.

“You can’t treat her, you’re her ex.” She shouted. Making Connors jaw clench. He continued to scrub his hands.

“I’m the best option.” He spoke. Turning his head to look at Ava. She let out a sarcastic laugh.

“I’m her best choice, you’re her ex, what happens if you make a misjudgment, then what is her boyfriend going to think, that you did it out of spite because she is with Jay, not you.” Ava hissed out.

“You don’t know her as I do, you aren’t close to her, so yeah, I’m her best shot, and you're wasting my time and her time by talking.” Connor growled out. Moving towards the doors.

“Bastard.” She muttered to herself. As he turned his back to her. Opening the doors with his elbows…

“She should be out by, now right?” Jay asked his brother. Jay was pacing restlessly. While Will was sitting down. Jay’s eyes were red from crying. His cheeks stained with dried tears.

“I’ll go check.” He responded. Getting up. He gave Jay’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze when he walked past him.

Will got in the elevator. Going up. He exited the elevator going over to the desk.

“Have you seen Dr Rhodes?” Will asked the nurse at the desk.

“He’s over there.” she replied. Pointing her index finger to the room behind him. Will turned around to see Connor sitting next to you. Holding your hand to his lips. While you laid on the hospital bed asleep.

“Thanks.” He spoke. Walking over towards the room. Sliding the door open then close the door.

“So, where you going to tell Jay, she is out of surgery or were you just going to keep it from him? After all, she is his girlfriend.” Will spoke. Making Connor’s jaw clench. He untwined his fingers from yours. Delicately putting your hand down.

“She lost a lot of blood, I had to give her a blood transfusion, there were some complications during surgery, I nearly lost her. I had to put her in an induced coma.” Connor spoke, ignoring what Will said.

“She isn’t yours anymore Connor, you blew it.” Will spoke. Defending his brother.

“I know that.” Connor spoke. Standing up. His eyes were red from crying.

“I don’t think you do.” Will spoke again. Glaring at Connor.

“Have you ever thought that when she came in it affected me too? That I felt like I made a huge mistake letting her go. That the love of my life was dying.” Connor shouted. Fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

Will gave Connor a deadly glare. Connor let out a sniffle. Shaking his head.

“Jay can see her.” Connor spoke, as he gave you one last longing glance before leaving the room.

Will took out his phone. Sending Jay a quick text with the room and floor you were on. He would have gone and got him, but he didn’t trust Connor at the moment, not with what he saw.

Will looked up at you. An oxygen mask covering your mouth. The monitors showing your heart rate. Letting out a sigh. Just as he took a step, the door opened. Then shut. Will craned his neck seeing his disheveled brother.

Jay rushed over to you. Sitting on the chair Connor sat on. He grabbed ahold of your hand. Bringing it up towards his lips.

“My baby.” He sobbed. Kissing your hand repeatedly.

“She had to have a blood transfusion. She’s in an induced coma.” Will spoke. Making Jay cry.

“I promise you; I will find the person who did this to you.” He promised you. Looking at you as he kissed the back of your hand.

“I love you so much.” He sobbed.

“Please don’t die on me, please wake up.” He pleaded…...

#jay halstead x reader #chicago pd x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead angst #chicago pd imagine #chicago p.d.#chicago pd #jay halstead

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fadedflame · 3 years ago

Text

Carols and Circuits Day 11

Detroit: Become Human Prompt Challenge from @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Summery: Hank’s confrontation with Connor on the rooftop ended badly. Certain the fall had killed him, the last thing he was expecting was the kid to show up on his doorstep a year later. Traumatized and falling apart at the seams, Hank doesn’t know if there's anything he can really do to help the android. But he sure as hell is going to try.

Day eleven - Christmas Firsts

Words-722

< Previous Chapter / Next Chapter >

Ao3 or

Hank wouldn’t exactly call himself a tidy person, never had been. He had tried, back when he was married, but once he was divorced with an infant son and a full time job, he didn’t have time to worry about doing the dishes every day or whether or not there were a few toys on the floor. After Cole had died, he hadn’t had the energy to care.

So yeah, the house was a bit of a mess, so what?

“What the fuck?” Hank exclaimed as soon as he got inside, almost dropping his keys in surprise.

“Welcome home, Lieutenant,” Connor called from the kitchen. “Please wipe your feet, I just mopped.”

Yeah, he damn well had. And that was just the beginning. It looked like the whole goddamn place had been scrubbed within an inch of its life. “What the hell are you doing?”

Connor turned to look at him, paused, glanced at the dishrag in his hand, then returned his gaze to him. “I assume that was a rhetorical question?”

Hank sighed, pausing only to wipe his feet on the doormat as he had been told. “Alright, let's put it this way. Why are you cleaning the house?”

The android’s expression was still puzzled, as though it should be obvious. “Because it needed to be cleaned.”

Well that was debatable if you asked Hank. Sure, maybe it had been a few weeks, maybe months since he’d dusted, but the house was fine. “Right,” he said instead of arguing. “And you just decided to clean it?”

“Not just,” Connor told him, turning back to the dishrack to continue his task of drying and putting them away. “I always intended to assist in the household maintenance. It was just… daunting.”

“Daunting?” Well shit. Hank couldn’t very well complain if this was a sign of growth.

He looked over his shoulder, but didn’t pause in his work. “You were right about the gloves, Lieutenant,” he said with a smile. “I really should have thought of it myself. They dampen the external stimuli and help prevent my sensors from overloading.”

Hank hadn’t really thought anything about it, but yeah, Connor was certainly wearing gloves. They were a set of bright yellow, one-size-fits all, rubber utility gloves that Hank had probably forgotten about right after he’d bought them.

“I’m glad they help,” he told him, walking over to the sink to help. He pulled a dish from the rack, shaking the excess water from it rather than bothering with a towel. “But, you know you don’t need to clean the house, right? You're not my damn maid.”

“I know I’m not,” Connor insisted. “But I do want to contribute to the household. Besides,” his expression was less than amused as Hank put the mostly-dry dish in the cupboard. “I suspect I have a higher standard for cleanliness than you do.”

Hank rolled his eyes and flicked some of the water from his hands over at the android who blinked it away with a smile. “Alright, fine. Smartass,” he scolded without any venom. “You can clean if you want. Just as long as this isn’t some new neurosis or some shit.”

“It’s not,” Connor promised, returning to his towel. “Besides, wouldn’t it be better to celebrate Christmas in a clean house?”

“Yeah, I guess it will.” It was going to be a first, that was for damn sure. With the usual chaos of the holidays, cleaning was usually at the bottom of his to-do list. It wasn’t the only first either, he realized, sparing a moment to take in the unusual sight of CyberLife’s most advanced tactical android drying his dishes in oversized rubber gloves.

Even last year, Hank never would have thought he would be celebrating Christmas with Connor.

He left the dishes to the kid, and grabbed himself a beer from the fridge. “Just don’t work yourself too hard or anything,” he told him. “You’re supposed to be enjoying the holidays, remember.”

Connor absently assured him that he would take time to enjoy himself and Hank found that he wasn’t really all that worried. He had an energy to him today that hadn’t been there before, as though an unseen tension had eased, if only a little. Dare he say, Connor seemed happy.

No way in hell he was going to argue with that.

#dbh hank #dbh connor #detroit become human #d:bh #dbh prompt challenge #dbhcarolsandcircuits #dbh fanfic

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pink-bird-30 · 3 years ago

Text

More Missing Moments from Titans

Okay, I don't think the writers know what we want. Kori and Dick were in a car together and we DID NOT GET A SCENE. What is up with that?????

Well, I wrote it.

Enjoy!

Happy Reading!

As always, you can read my story on FF.net

Warning, this contains spoilers from 3x10!!!

With everyone gathered in the living area, Kori found herself slightly defeated. The Kori of two years ago would have called out Dick for his idiocy. Turn themselves in? It’s a whole new level of stupid that Kori distinctly recalls Dick pulling about a year ago when he was overcome with guilt for Jericho’s “death”.

But only because Barbara is the commissioner, and Dick seems to think she can help them, the Titans have no choice but to agree with Dick. And Kori absolutely hated it. She knew Connor and Gar would follow Dick with whatever he had to say, but what surprised her more was Kom’s agreeing. But that is a whole different issue Kori is dealing with.

All too soon, Dick is driving down the busy city streets of Gotham heading towards GCPD. Kom, Connor, Krypto, and Gar were in a separate vehicle following them close behind. Kori wasn’t sure why she chose to drive with Dick, but the uncomfortable silence settled between them is making her reconsider her decision.

Kori tries to remember the last time they were truly alone, and she can’t seem to remember.

“You’re quiet.” Dick says. He glances in her direction before focusing back on the road.

Kori side eyes him, her green eyes slightly coming ablaze before looking back out the window, watching the tall buildings of Gotham passing by.

“It’s not like my opinion matters, so why speak.”

Dick’s face scrunches in confusion, “What are you talking about? You know I-“

She turns to him, “You what? Value my opinion? Ask me if what we’re doing is the best decision? Even think to consider how I may feel about all of this?” She scoffs. “Please. Save me the story, Grayson.”

“Hey!” Dick abruptly pulls over on the highway and shifts the truck into park. “What are you talking about?” He turns to her, giving her his undivided attention.

“You’re kidding me right?” She throws her hands in frustration. “Dick, where the hell have you been?” her voice raw with emotion.

His heart sinks. Could she really be that mad at him for the plan? Or was is something else? He can see her usually joyous green eyes didn’t shine the same. Her natural bouncy curls were flat and lifeless. And her attitude as a whole was not Kori.

“I-I” what could he say. She isn’t wrong. The second he got back to Gotham he became ‘Dick Grayson, son of Batman.’ And the Detroit cop who went rogue was gone, replaced by this old version of Dick no one wanted.

Kori lets out a deep breath and sinks back into her seat. “Look, I only agreed to this plan because everyone else seems to trust your judgment on the situation.”

Dick nods in understanding, afraid to say anything else.

“But I don’t.”

Dick huffs in frustration, running his gloved hand through his dark hair, “Trust the plan? Kori, it’s a bit late to question a plan that is already in motion!”

“That’s not all, Dick.” Her eyes blazing with fury. She leans forward, making Dick fall back slightly towards the door.

Oh Shit.

“You walked up into Wayne Manor talking about making decisions as a family. A fucking family?! You have no idea what any of us are going through. You haven’t been around since Hank died!”

Kori can’t help the angry tears gathering in her eyes, she just hopes she can keep them at bay. She will not let him see her cry.

“And it’s no fair, you made this decision with Barbara. She isn’t even a Titan, Dick!”

The fight leaves Dick completely. Kori is right. As always. If he had the energy to chuckle, he would. What a complete asshole he’s been neglecting his own team because of who he used to be here in Gotham.

“You’re right. I should have included you, and the team, in the conversation before even approaching the possibility of doing this.”

Kori crosses her arms, still not believing him. “That’s it, I’m ‘right’?”

Dick grins, finally feeling the tension start to dissipate. “Yup.”

Kori scoffs, “Whatever. When this plan goes sideways, make sure to include me in the next ridiculous plan you come up with.”

“I promise.” And he means it.

Kori looks him up and down before sighing in content.

“We’ll see.”

She didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. Even without Rachel here to tell them something will go wrong, Kori knew driving down to GCPD is going to be a disaster.

She just hopes it something they can all handle.

#dc titans #dickkory #dick grayson #koriand'r #titans missing moment again #spoliers #nightwing #starfire #brenton thwaites #mame anna diop #titans 3x10

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starksvixen · 4 years ago

Text

Best Shot - Part 4

Warnings: lotta angst, poor medical description, tooth rotting fluff

Word Count: 1519

A/N - There is some descriptive writing about being awake during surgery. This scene will take place in italics. If scenes like this make you squeamish, skip past the italicized part.

Prologue - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 (finale)

-~-

He could hear your screams from the waiting room, making more tears fall with each tortured yelp. Why couldn’t they just sedate you? Give you some kind of pain management?

As if some other worldly power heard him, your echoes of pain no longer bounced towards him. Jay’s cries turned to sobs, his hands grasped so tight in front of his face his knuckles were white. Ruzek gently clapped his shoulder, along with the rest of the squad that surrounded the lone Halstead.

“She’s a fighter, Jay. I’m sure she’s okay,” he mumbles, trying to make the best of a bad situation.

Jay wishes with everything he has that Adam was right. That Rhodes had just put you under to spare you the pain. But there was a small voice, like a demon on his shoulder, saying that you had left him. That you were gone.

So as soon as Will entered the waiting area, covered in your blood, he held his breath. Everyone that was there for you did. When Will sat beside his brother, tears began to form in preparation for the worst.

“The, uh,” Will sighs. “The bullet was through and through. Only nicked a few arteries and Dr. Rhodes is stitching up the arteries right now. She might scream some more because she refused sedation.”

“Wait, without sedation? Why didn’t she want sedation?” Jay asks quickly.

“That’s something you’ll have to ask her once we move her up into recovery.”

“When can I see her?” Jay says while wiping what was left of his tears.

“Well, Natalie just has a few more tests to run after the surgery and then I’ll take you to her.” Will says while standing up. “She got really lucky, more then you know right now.”

Once he walks away, the entire district was in a kerfuffle over Will’s vagueness about your refusal of sedation.

“Who does he think he is? Sherlock Holmes? We deserve to know.” Ruzek says to the group.

“Yeah, well it’s obvious she didn’t want us to know something.” Jay snaps.

The whole room fell silent.

-(Y/N)’s POV-

The bounce from the stretcher sent pain racing through our abdomen, waking you up from your blood loss induced sleep. Once your eyes opened, you saw tears racing down Jay’s face as he sat on the ambo. You tried to sit up, tried to get to him and tell him you were okay. But the pain and a hand on your chest was a gruesome reminder.

“Let’s get 100 milligrams of Fentanyl in her stat and a bedside ultrasound,” Connor says as he wheels you into the trauma room.

“On my count. 1, 2, 3,”

Shaky hands lift your back board and lay you on the bed. All you can think to do is scream as your wound is hit multiple times in the tussle. Your vest is removed and your shirt is cut off swiftly with scissors. Through your blurry vision, you see Will and another doctor enter, gloves at the ready. The women takes the ultrasound wand from Connor as Will tries to place in an iv in your arm.

“Bullet is through and through,” Connor says.

“No free fluid in the belly,” the other doctor says before moving the wand lower. “Wait, hold the fentanyl.”

“Natalie, she needs it.” Will says as you feel a needle pierce your skin, adding onto the pile of pain your body was vibrating from.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), did you know you were pregnant?”

“No, no fucking way,” you mumble as you shake harder, only increasing your pain.

“Alright, (Y/N),” you hear Connor say. Turning your head, you can see the worry in his eyes.

“You are pregnant. Now I can give you a lower dose of fentanyl and I can get you under mild anesthesia. But I need to repair your wound or you and the baby will die.”

Everything begins to blur around you, but one thing stands out through the fog. You were going to protect your baby no matter what.

“Give me the lowest dose you can give me,” you whimper. “No sedation.”

“(Y/N)-”

“You heard me Connor!” you say as the pain spreads up, making it feel like you can’t breathe.

“Alright, call my team and take her to the Hybrid OR. Natalie, scrub in, I need you to keep an eye on that fetus.”

Connor and Natalie disappear out of the room as Will sticks you with yet another needle. Quickly, he wheels you in your bed into the OR. With the help of some nurses, he gets you on the operating table.

“Do you want me to tell Jay?” he asks.

“No,” you say while swallowing back whatever was left in your mouth. Will simply nods and leaves the room as Natalie and Connor enter.

“Alright, (Y/N), this is going to hurt but I need you to stay as still as possible. If you flinch and I knick another artery it’s game over for you two.” he says to, preparing what he needed to begin.

All you could do was nod, the pain and exhaustion beginning to overtake your already weak and fragile body.

That’s when you felt the first cut.

Searing pain on top of what already was unbearable spreads across your skin like fire ants on the hunt. You scream out, the only option you have as you force your body to stay as still as possible.

“(Y/N), the baby’s heart rate is increasing because of the pain. It’s safer for both of you to go under light sedation. I promise it won’t hurt it.” Natalie says to you, her worried eyes peering through into your soul.

You can only nod with a sob as Natalie gets to work. At the same time yet another needle pierces your skin, you feel cold metal digging into your chest. You’re out of energy to scream, all you can do is cry, ensuring your chest doesn’t bounce with each passing sob.

As you watch the needle disappear into your chest cavity, you prepare yourself to feel the pain once more. Thanks to the sedation, you finally didn’t feel a thing, but your body stayed tensed up as always.

After about a half an hour, you were closed up and waiting to be transferred to the recovery room. Connor sits beside you in the tiny ER room, his cap and mask in hand as he looks at you.

“Is it mine?”

Your breath hitches in your throat. What if it was? Back there, you automatically thought that the baby belonged to Jay, failing to remember about your adventures with Connor.

“I don’t know,” you croak. “If it is?”

“That’s up to you.”

You sigh to the amount your chest lets you. Things were finally right with Jay, you were in love and happy. Of course this happens now, something to take your happiness away.

“Dr. Rhodes? Can I have a moment with (Y/N)?” you hear Natalie say from the entrance to the cramped room.

“Yeah,” Connor says before standing up. “Just keep me updated.”

Natalie only nods as he leaves, you chuckling at her curtness towards him. She looks towards you and smiles, pulling the ultrasound machine over once more.

“Really? Him?” she says teasingly. You keep your chuckles soft to avoid more pain, but through your exhaustion you smile.

“What can I say? He was available.”

Looking down at her hand, you spot a ring on her finger, the one Jay had shown you many times on the anniversary of his Mom’s death. The one Will had taken for his special person.

“You’re Will’s fiancée?” you ask as you watch her hit a few buttons on the machine beside you two.

“Yeah, you must be Jay’s best friend then.” she replies before gently lifting up your gown.

“Not so much anymore,” you say with a bit of glum.

“I’m sure the baby won’t get in the way,” she reassures.

“That’s no-”

You’re interrupted by the sound of your baby’s heartbeat. Uncontrollable tears spring to your eyes once she turns the screen for you to see your tiny blip. Gently, you lay a hand over your mouth to hide your smile, not believing that there was another human inside you that somehow, you would do anything for already.

“The baby looks completely healthy, despite everything. They look to be about 7 weeks along.” Natalie says to you with a smile.

You run a hand through your hair, quickly doing the math in your head. The last time you and Connor slept together was well over 7 weeks at that point. You and Jay...well.

“It’s not Connor’s.” you reply with a soft sigh in relief.

With a smirk, Natalie sends a few photos to be printed before cleaning you up and taking you up to recovery. Once she gets you set up, ensuring everything was in working order, she walks towards the doorway. Before she leaves, she turns back towards you.

“Do you want me to bring Jay up?” she asks.

You nod softly as you gently lay a shaking hand on your abdomen. It was time for your blip to me it’s daddy.

Tag List: (leave a comment to be added)

shipshipshipau panaitbeatrice annaallicce ikleesfiction nocturnalherb16 weepingfestivalmentality

#jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #connor rhodes #connor rhodes x reader #conner rhodes imagine #one chicago #chicago pd #chicago med #reader insert #(y/n)

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