18+, Men and Minors DNI- Do not repost works without permission!
WLW, Celebrity Fan-fiction. Heavy use of song lyrics for themes and storylines, and I don't like to write short fics. This is my first fanfic blog in a long time- I appreciate reading everyones comments on my work! Focused on Scarlett Johannson and her characters, Elizabeth Olsen, AJ Cook, Rhea Ripley, etc.
Bonus points to those who can guess all the lyrics being used :]
Series: I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much (ScarJo)
HIATUS
You’re a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet. (Warnings: Smut, Strong Language, Violence, Stalking, Death Threats, Implied Abuse/Sexual Abuse, Flashbacks to War/PTSD)
*More warnings will be added as I write*
Ch. 1 - Are You at One, or do You Lie?
Ch. 2 - We’re Hiding Like a Shadow in the Dark
Ch. 3 - All This Money and This Pain Got Me Heartless
Ch. 4 - Fuck Around and Damn Near Die in it
Ch. 5 - You Pulled Me Under Just to Save Yourself
Ch. 6 - You Blame Me for Everything You Hate
Ch. 7 - Fall Down Before Me, I Want You on Your Knees
Ch. 8 - The Weight That’s Crushing can be Relieved
Ch. 9 - I Have a Growing Fear and You’re Not Helping Me
Ch. 10 - I Pulled Off Your Wings, Then I Laughed
Ch. 11 - Army Green Was No Safe Bet
Ch. 12 - Whisper on a Scream, Doesn't Change a Thing
Ch. 13 - Digging Up the Dirt, You Get to Meet All Sorts
Ch. 14 - I Just Want You to Know Who I Am
Ch. 15 - The Only Thing You Brought Is Psychological Warfare
Ch. 16 - You're Gonna Get What's Coming to You
Ch. 17 - A Pebble in the Water Makes a Ripple Effect
Ch. 18 - If You Wade Around Forever, You Will Surely Drown
Ch. 19 - I'll Be Hurtin' When I Wake Up On The Floor
Series: I Work Too Hard, Can You Fuckin' Pay Me? (Wanda Maximoff)
ONGOING
Y/N moved to escape some of thier looming troubles from Westview, to the place that their best friend said would make a difference. New job, new digs, will Y/N make a change for the better, or leave another city with their tail between their legs? (Warnings: Smut, Strong Language, Cheating, Intersex!Reader, Alcohol Abuse, Angst)
- PT. 1 - PT. 2 - PT. 3 - PT. 4 - PT. 5 - PT. 6 - PT. 7 - PT. 8 - PT. 9 - PT. 10 - PT. 11 - PT. 12 - PT. 13 - PT. 14 - PT. 15 - PT. 16 - PT. 17 - PT. 18 -
S.J. - You Hold Your Hands in the Air, Screaming My Name 😈
S.J. - So Fucked Up, From the Way That You Touch - Pt. 1. Pt. 2. 😈
E.O. - Our Fire When We're Together, Mixed With Paranoid Manners🥰
N.R. - I Got a Secret, So I'ma Drop ‘Em to the Floor 🎄😈
W.M. - Easy to Love 🥰
J.J. - It's Time to Let Her Know What You Need - Pt. 1 Pt.2 😈
N.R. - Let's Talk About Chemistry😈
J.J. - Caught Between Black and White 😰
W.M. - I Just Wanna be Yours 😈
N.R. - There's No Hope In Endless Winter 😰
N.R. - Ancient Sun, Cast Your Light (Pt. 2 to There's No Hope In Endless Winter) 😰😈🥰
W.M./N.R - I Gambled On Red And The Price Was Paid 😈
W.M./N.R - Fuck Me Like You Mean It (Pt. 2 to I Gambled On Red)😈🥰
S.J. - You Should Probably Leave 🥰😈😰
N.R. - I Can't Help The Way I'm Feelin' Pt. 1 Pt.2 😈
E.O. - Watch The World Explode From Underneath Your Glow 😈
W.M. - She Had Other Plans
W.M. - Tell Me Your Limit and We'll Cross the Line Again (Pt. 2 to She Had Other Plans)😈
W.M./N.R. - Come With Us And You Will See ⚰️😈
J.J. - Black and Blue 😈
E.O. - You're A Doll, You Are Flawless🥰
E.P. - Between the Pain and the Way You Look 😈🥰
*credit for images/lyrics used on this blog belong to respective owners, i do not own these images/songs. contents of this blog are purely for creative entertainment purposes, any similarities between those portrayed in this blog and real people are purely coincidental. all works on this blog are fiction. works are my own, do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.*
I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 19
You're a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.
TW: Sexual Assault, Description of injuries and assault, substance abuse
2.7K Word Count
CH. 19 : I’ll Be Hurtin’ When I Wake Up On The Floor
You sit up, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. Your body aches, and your head feels like it's full of cotton. You hadn't realized how drained you were from the past week. The doctor hands you a prescription for some painkillers and some OTC contraceptives. You nod your thanks, already starting to feel the weight of the new information. A week gone by, and you had no memory of it. You try to piece together what might have happened during that time. The doctor excuses herself to speak with Kris, leaving you alone for a moment. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. Your mind feels foggy, and your body aches. It's like you're waking up from a long, terrible dream, but you know this is reality. Your reality.
You glance over at Kris, who is listening intently to the doctor. She catches your eye and offers you a small smile, trying to reassure you. But you can see the worry in her expression, and it only makes you feel more unsettled. You hate when people worry. Especially about you. The last time that happened, people died. As the doctor finishes up with Kris, she comes back over to you. "I've given Kris instructions on how to care for you at home. She'll stay with you for a few more days, just to make sure you're doing alright. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask." She pauses, then adds, "And don't forget to take your medication. It's important that you rest and let your body heal."
You nod, still feeling a little dazed. You're not sure what you need, exactly, but you know you need someone. You glance at Kris, and she smiles reassuringly, squeezing your hand. Feeling the pit in your stomach forming, you get antsy as the urge to want to leave takes over.
"I think I'm okay to go home," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I need some time, you know?" The doctor frowns but doesn't object. She nods, giving Kris a sympathetic look.
"I'll get your discharge paperwork going." Dr. Stef walks out, leaving you and Kris alone.
"You know," Kris says softly, coming to sit on the edge of the bed beside you, "if you want to talk about it... anything at all... I'm here for you." She looks at you with those big, blue, worried eyes. You look away from her not wanting to see the pity and remorse on her features, and not wanting to let her see the pain in yours. Instead, you focus on fiddling with your hospital bracelet, twisting it around your wrist. You're not ready to talk about it yet, and you don't know if you ever will be. The memories are still too fresh, too raw. Waters had gotten to you, yet again. You felt like you were back at square one.
"I'm not sure what I want to do right now," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just need some time to think."
Kris nods, squeezing your hand. "Of course. Take all the time you need. I'll be here for you whenever you're ready to talk." She stands up, gathering your things from the bedside table.
"I need to do that alone, Kris."
You don't want her to misunderstand. You need to sort out your own thoughts, and your own feelings. You need to find some semblance of control in this mess.
The doctor hands you the discharge paperwork, along with a set of instructions for the next few days. You nod in understanding, but you're not sure if you can even focus on that right now. The painkillers are starting to kick in, and the haze in your mind is beginning to clear. As Kris helps you into your clothes and gets you settled into the wheelchair, you can't help but feel overwhelmed. She keeps glancing at you, worry etched into her features, and it's all you can do to not break down right here. You don't want her to see you like this. You don't want anyone to see you like this. Jim had made his way into the room, and his presence was calming you down. He was there after the last time this had happened, and he is here now.
"Hey, kiddo," he speaks lowly, grabbing the wheelchair and slowly pushing you out of the room. "I know you do not want to talk about it just yet, but you will need to soon."
Your throat tightens at his words. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. The hallway outside the room seems to stretch on forever, but finally, you reach the discharge area. The nurse at the desk glances up, then quickly looks back down at her paperwork when she sees Jim.
"Here's your paperwork and instructions," the doctor says, handing them to you. "Your friend Kris has everything she needs to care for you at home. If you have any questions, or if anything comes up, don't hesitate to call."
You take the paperwork from her, barely registering her words. Your focus is on getting out of here, away from the sterile hospital environment, and back into the relative safety of your own home. Kris helps you into the waiting wheelchair, and Jim takes up position behind it, ready to push you out.
You suck in a deep breath as you are pushed out of the sliding doors, the fresh air hitting your lungs as the smell of the trees surrounding the hospital waken your senses.
"Where to, kid?" Jim asks, already knowing the answer. You stand out of the wheelchair, slightly unsteady as you turn to the pair behind you.
"I'm going home," you internally winced at how harsh that sounded. "I need some time...alone."
Jim nods, not looking surprised. "Of course, kiddo. We'll get you home, and then we can figure out the next steps." He glances over at Kris, then back at you. "But you're not going to be alone for too long. I'll stay close by, and we'll get through this together, okay?"
Kris scoffs, looking annoyed that Jim is humoring this. "Jim, she cannot be alone right now! Even the doctor said that!"
But you ignore them, steeling yourself against the pain in your side. You nod, even though it hurts. "Thank you, Jim. And Kris. I appreciate it." You turn to face the car that was waiting for you, the driver holding open the back door to the blacked-out SUV.
You climb inside, grateful for the familiarity of the vehicle, and the scent of leather and air freshener that greets you. As the driver closes the door and gets back behind the wheel, you lean back in your seat, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. "To the office, please."
The driver nods and pulls out of the parking spot, heading toward the city. You close your eyes, trying to shut out everything but the rhythmic hum of the tires on the pavement. The pain in your side throbs in time with your heartbeat, and you fight the urge to curl up into a ball and cry. Instead, you focus on the feel of the seat beneath you, the cool air from the vents blowing across your face. You don't know how you're going to face your team after this. You can't help but feel like a disappointment, or a burden, like you have let them all down. You wish you could just disappear, be somewhere else, anywhere else. You think about the look on Kris's face when she found you in your apartment, or how she looked at you as she talked to the doctor.
You wonder what she's thinking right now. If she's mad at you for not telling her how bad this assignment was, or if she's just relieved that you're alive. You close your eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but they keep creeping back in. The pain in your side is constant, a throbbing ache that sometimes makes it hard to breathe. You wish you could just make it stop Finally, your mind drifts to Scarlett. The blonde had come by the hospital to check on you, and who knows how often. you had only woken up one time to hear her voice in your room. The voice you secretly found so much comfort in. You were supposed to be protecting her. Yet- you got yourself holed up in a hospital room instead. You felt like a failure.
The car pulls up to the elevator door inside your office building, and you gather your things, trying not to wince as you stand. You limp out of the car, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. You stalk towards the elevator door as the driver pulls away, your finger pressing the button, and you look at all the damage on your hands and wrists from being bound.
When the elevator doors slide open, you step inside and lean against the back wall, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath. You can feel the tension in your shoulders and neck, the pain in your side making every movement a chore. You wish you could just disappear, be somewhere else, anywhere else. The doors ding open, and you walk past Kris's office to yours, slipping inside unnoticed by your bosses. You walk to your desk, flipping a switch on the side to darken all your windows so nothing could be seen from the outside.
You knew you had to wait a bit before you could fly home to McCall. So, you were going to bunk here for the night. You lock the office door and pull down the panel for the hidden Murphy bed.
You lie down, but the pain in your side keeps you up. You roll onto your side, staring up at the ceiling. The lights from the city below twinkle through the windows, casting an eerie glow across the room. You close your eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing ache in your side. You wish you could just sleep, but you know that's not going to happen. So, you head to the bathroom, gingerly peeling the tee-shirt Kris had brought for you to wear off. You began to survey your injuries in front of the mirror, growing more and more angry as you saw the various cuts and scrapes, bruises, and bumps that littered your body. Some of the bruises were dark enough to hide some of your tattoos.
You splash some cold water on your face to clear your thoughts. You can't believe you let yourself get into this mess. You should have been more careful, and more alert. You shouldn't have trusted the system. But, you did. And now look at you. You're lucky to be alive. You cannot let Waters get to you like this anymore. That's what you keep telling yourself. Deciding enough is enough, you cut the dressing on your side off, as well as the dressing wrapping your head. You wince as the gauze snags on some of the stitches before freeing itself. Grabbing a clean washcloth, you clean yourself up, before pulling the tee back over your torso and walking out to your bed.
You collapse onto the mattress, the cool sheets pressing against your sweat-dampened skin. You close your eyes, trying to find some semblance of rest, but it's no use. Your mind refuses to shut off. You keep thinking about Scarlett, and how she must feel about all of this. You wish you could just go to her, hold her, protect her. But you can't. Not right now. You have to focus on yourself and get better. The clock on the bedside table glows softly, casting a dim light over the room. The minutes tick by, each one seeming to weigh a ton. You decide enough is enough. You know you need to take your medicine, but you can't until you are home. So, you pack your things, hide the bed away, and walk up to where your helicopter sits on the roof.
The wind whips through your hair as you step outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stuffiness of the office. You make your way to the helicopter, wincing as you climb up into the cockpit. You buckle yourself in, start the engine, and take off. The cityscape below you blurs into a kaleidoscope of neon and darkness as you ascend higher and higher into the sky. You keep your mind focused on the flight before you, and soon enough you are landing at your cabin, weary and sore. You know it wasn't the brightest idea to make that flight alone, but right now you cannot help but feel like a crash landing wouldn't have been the worst thing for you.
You stumble inside, dropping your bag by the door. The cabin is cool and dark, the fireplace crackling softly in the corner. You head to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of whiskey, and down it in one gulp. The burn of the liquor is welcome, but it does little to dull the ache in your side. You pour another glass and sit down at the table, staring out the window as you sip.
The stars twinkle above the treetops, their light casting a soft glow on the snow-covered ground. It's beautiful, but it only serves to remind you of how far away from everything you feel right now. You wish you could talk to someone, anyone, about what happened. But you can't. Not yet. You take another sip of your whiskey, letting the warmth spread through your body. As you sit there, lost in thought, you hear a vibration coming from the kitchen. You walk over to the counter, seeing your phone screen light up as the notifications keep pouring in. The device had been dead since that day, and this was the first it was being charged. Your heart drops when you see Scarlett's name pop up on the screen, noticing she had tried to text you, and is now calling you.
Your body reacts on impulse, accepting the call before you can think.
"Hello?" you croak out, your voice hoarse from disuse. There's a long pause on the other end of the line.
"Oh, thank God," Scarlett whispers. "I've been so worried about you."
Your heart sinks further as you hear the tears in her voice. "I'm okay," you tell her, though the lie feels hollow even as it leaves your lips. "I just need some time to myself."
There's another long pause, and then Scarlett lets out a shaky breath. "I understand that, Y/N. I do. But I wish you'd let me be there for you. I want to help.”
Your heart twists at her words. You know she means well, but you also can't pull yourself to let her in. Not yet. "I appreciate that, Scarlett," you say, your voice softening. "But I need some time to sort things out on my own.” There's a long silence on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear her taking deep breaths to calm herself down. You want to reach out to her, to comfort her, but you know you can't.
"I... I understand," she finally says, her voice shaky. "Just promise me you'll call me if you need anything, okay? Or if you change your mind about wanting to be alone..." she starts. "But, Y/N?"
"Yeah?"
"He had been torturing me too, just in a different way. We can help each other, you know?” Your heart clenches at her words. You know she's right, that he's been tormenting you both. But you can't bring yourself to trust anyone right now. "I'll think about it," you manage to say, your voice sounding even more distant than you feel. You hang up, not wanting any more words to be said.
You stand there, staring at the phone in your hand, feeling guilty for how you just treated her. But you can't help it. You need this time to yourself. You take another sip of your whiskey, letting the liquid burn its way down your throat. It's not enough. It will never be enough. You go over to the bag with your medicine in it and get out what you need to take. Hopefully, this will allow you to sleep.
I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 18
You're a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.
A/N: Thanks all that are sticking with this one, it picks back up again, I promise!
TW: Sexual Assault, Description of injuries and assault
2.4K Word Count
Ch. 18: If You Wade Around Forever, You Will Surely Drown
The shock of the statement sent you reeling, yet again. He was awake. The man you saw as a father figure was awake, and you weren’t there. Deep down, you knew that he wouldn’t care if you were there or not- what he would care about is that the reason you weren’t there. The guilt of not being there when he came to cause a pit to settle deep in your stomach, as your eyes went misty.
“Y/N, we did tell him what you had said to me before we left the ER to find you. He also wouldn’t tell us anything, because he feels that it is your story to tell.” Kris continued, seemingly oblivious to your inner turmoil.
“Smart man,” you whispered, your icy gaze shifting back to Kris. “Because it is true, it’s MY STORY to tell. I get to know all of what happened, I get to decide who knows what, and if it’s important or not.” Her expression dropped, she knew that you were not going to open up about this.
“This isn’t a moment of weakness, Y/N. This will help you, this will help us understand him, and help us to help Scarlett.” She tried to appeal to your more logical side, but you were not in a logical state of mind at the moment.
“Waters ISN’T LOGICAL, Kris. He does whatever. He’s a loose fucking cannon, that’s why he isn’t in the Army anymore. ” you fire, turning your gaze away from her to look out the window instead.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” was her response. “So I take it that’s how you know each other?” She asks, shifting her position, lifting her left knee over her right leg, so she can rest her hands on top.
“Yeah. You could say that.”
“So…”
“So what, Kris? He was my CO in the Army. He made my life a living hell there. Now he’s doing it to an innocent woman, and me for payback.”
“Payback for what?”
You thought long and hard about how to phrase this.
“Blowing the whistle,” Was your quiet response. “I had seen him do some terrible things. I tried to let it be, to not get involved. But he messed up. He hurt someone and sent them to the infirmary. I had no choice but to say something.” It wasn’t a lie, per se, but you had carefully omitted that it was you who was the victim, that it was you who had witnessed everything because he had assaulted you. That your best friends had found you, taken you to the infirmary, and the rape test gave the brass all the evidence they needed. The reason you had to say something was that he had pushed it too far. Had he not pushed it that day- you wouldn’t have had to say a word. You would have been deployed with Nix and Cam. You could have protected them. But his paranoid measures cost two good people their lives. So now, you try to make sure that their sacrifice isn’t in vain.
“What did he do, Y/N?”
“Aside from his usual berating, he threw a stone ashtray at someone. Knocked them out.” Was your response, again, omitting the important details, like the rape that led up to the whole ashtray Olympics, or that the “them” was you.
“Mmm. Okay.” She could tell there was more to this, but wasn’t going to push it. “I’m going to let you rest, Y/N. But Chris and Paul want answers. I’ll try to push them off for you. But you can’t put this off forever.” She stood, a worried look on her face.
“Don’t, Kris.”
“Don’t what?”
“Give me that look. That’s exactly why I don’t tell people things.” Her expression shifted from one of pity to one of knowing.
“Well, Y/N, you better get used to talking. Because that’s all you're going to be doing while you’re in here.” She turned towards the door.
“Kris?” You caused her to stop and look over her shoulder as she waited for you to talk.
“Did anything happen to Scarlett?” Kris’ shoulders slumped.
“I don’t know yet, Y/N. We sent a larger detail to her house, but that’s all I knew of.” You shook your head in response, returning your gaze to the windows to look outside. Before you knew it, your body willed itself into a restless slumber.
*****
You could hear faint whispers in the room around you, but couldn’t make out what was being said. It sounded like Kris, but she was talking to someone and you couldn’t tell by the voice who it belonged to. You tried to focus on the conversation, so you could figure out who was in your room without opening your eyes, and possibly alerting them that you were awake. The hushed voices sounded strained, like they were fighting.
“You shouldn’t. Be. Here.” Kris whisper-shouted at the other person in the room. What caught you off guard was another female voice.
Scarletts voice.
“I will visit whoever I please. Last I checked it isn’t a crime to check on someone.” She muttered.
“Girls, please!” A male voice interjected. Jim.
“Jim! Her being here will stress her out more! She needs to leave!” Kris whispers and yells at Jim. You weren’t a fan of how Kris acted since this new project began.
“Scarlett is her client. They have spent a lot of time together since we picked this project up. If Scarlett wants to check on her, let her!”
“Ahem… still in the room, guys!” Scarlett interjects.
“And, Jim! You just got discharged, you should be at home resting!” Kris continued.
“No. She came to visit me every day while I was in the hospital. I will be here for her. She’s my daughter!” He whisper-shouted back.
“What?!” Scarlett squeaked, and both Jim and Kris shushed her. “You’re her father?!”
“Not by blood, no. We’ve kind of…adopted each other in times of need.” He whispers. You could hear everyone shuffling around as the door clicked open.
“Hello everyone,” you heard as it sounded like the doctor shuffled in. “I’m Dr. Roberts.” The door clicked behind him as you heard him walk to the computer across the room. “I need to run some tests and check Y/N’s vitals. Are any of you family?”
“Well, this is my turn to leave,” Scarlett says quietly, gently patting your lower leg as the door clicks open and shut again.
“Finally,” Kris mumbled.
“Kris. LEAVE.” Jim barked, sick of the blondes antics. He sighed as she shut the door behind her.
“I take it you are family?” The doctor asked.
“Yeah, stepfather.” He responded. You suddenly felt what you presumed were the doctor’s cold hands through your gown as he gently tapped your shoulder. You jumped at the sudden feeling of someone’s hand that close to your face.
“Sorry, didn’t want to startle you, Ms. Y/L/N. I need to check on some things before we discuss discharging you.”
“OK.” You responded, a dry smile on your face. He began checking the cut on your face, cutting away the bandage so he could ensure the stitches were clean and dry.
“How do you feel, Y/N?” Jim asked, a concerned expression written on his features.
“Like I had the shit beat out of me for hours, honestly.” You groan as the doctor leans you back, so he can begin to probe certain areas of your body to check for tenderness. One of the regular nurses comes in, a bashful smile on her face as the doctor pushes on your side, the bruising now making itself apparent. You groan as Jim grimaces for you.
“Well, Y/N. You do have some bruised ribs, a mild concussion as well as some minor stab wounds that have started to scab,” the doctor started. “Your breathing sounds ok, so no punctured or collapsed lungs. The black eye will disappear; just try not to bend over to pick anything up for a while.” He continued. “The cut to your eyebrow is stitched, healing as nicely as possible with the double scar tissue. Make sure you keep this ointment on it, to minimize the appearance of the scar as it heals.” You nod as he continues. “It’s going to get purple and nasty looking for a little bit, but as long as you keep up with the scar cream, it will reduce and the color will lighten. Do you have any questions?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Good. Now, please wait here, the OB will be coming in here shortly to speak with you.”
“OB?”
“Yes, Y/N. We have an OBGYN assigned to this case since you were attacked. It is standard procedure.” After this, he nodded curtly and swiftly left the room.
“The personality on that one, eh Jim?” You ask, pointing to where the doctor just left.
“Y/N,” he warned, narrowing his eyes. You shied away from his gaze. “Honey, why didn’t you bring someone home with you? You can’t pull a Wonder Woman with this guy.” His gaze softened as he stepped to the side of your bed. “I can’t always be there to protect you, Y/N. And I’ll be dammed if I have to bury another daughter.”
“There wasn’t time, Jim.” You respond, staring down at your hands, fiddling with the wristband to avoid eye contact. A knock on the door brought your gaze back up, and an Amazonian-looking woman in soft pink scrubs walked into the room.
“Good afternoon, Y/N. My name is Stef,” she spoke softly, a slight accent making itself apparent. She turned to Jim, a bright smile on her face. “You must be?”
“Jim, my name is Jim. I’m Y/N’s stepdad.” She nodded before reaching out to shake his hand.
“Dad,” you corrected. His smile grew at the correction.
“Well, Y/N, this is the first time I’ve seen you awake since you got here,” she started. “There are some things I want to check on, and some things I want to go over with you.” You nod, letting her know to continue. “But, for the sake of this exam, I am going to ask Jim to leave, OK?”
“OK.”
“Now, if you want someone in here, we can ask for a third party to be in here. But they need to be female.” You knew you wanted Kris in here, but not if she was going to keep acting up.
“My assistant, Kris. But I would like to speak with her alone, first.” She nodded, leaving the room with Jim in tote. Shortly after, Kris came back into the room.
“Jom said you asked for me?”
“Kris, I want you in here while they do my exam.” You say coldly.
“Ok, sure Y/N.” She smiled.
“Under one condition.” Her face dropped.
“Drop the attitude, Smith.”
“Wha…”
“You know what I mean, Kris. This attitude you have towards Scarlett needs to stop. She is our client, a paying one. And she is going through a lot with this. This ordeal is not her fault. Quit treating her like an inconvenience, and. Play. Nice.” She looked utterly shocked as you called her out on her antics. “Jealousy is not a good look on you, K.”
“I’m not jealous.” She quipped.
“Kris, I was with you for two years. I can tell when you’re jealous. We both agreed when we broke up not to do this.” She looked like a dejected puppy and sat down in the corner chair. “Kris, she’s gonna talk to me about some shit, and it doesn’t leave this room. Understood?” She nods at you her eyes questioning. At this point, Stef walked back into the room.
“OK, are we ready to begin?” You nod at her, a small smile in acknowledgment. She sat in her rolling chair, rolling over to the foot of your bed. Pulling out the stirrups she guided your feet into them. “Now, Y/N. Medically, you were attacked. You were violated in ways that most do not ever have to experience,” she looks at you, as she puts her gloves on. “For that, I truly apologize that someone felt the need to do this to you.” You nod in acknowledgment. “However, this is something that has to be done as a result, to make sure everything is ok,” she continued on. “If at any time, you feel uncomfortable, please let me know.” You gave her one last nod and felt the pinch as the speculum slip inside of you. As you felt the stretch of the tool, you grimaced at the feeling. “I know, this thing is uncomfortable. I’m sorry,” she started. “You do not need to answer if this makes you uncomfortable, but this will help me understand the extent of any damage or injuries that may have occurred,” she continued. “Do you recall what you were penetrated with?”
You took a moment, allowing yourself to think back to the last time you were in the apartment.
“Yes, I do.” You speak softly.
“That’s good. Your recall is intact. Are you comfortable with telling me?” You nod, looking at Kris before diverting your gaze to a spot beside her. You were on the fence about seeing her reaction to this.
“There were multiple occasions,” you begin, seeing the way Kris’s face drops. “But they used their fingers, their fist, and a silencer for a gun.” Even the doctor dropped her facial expression, and sorrow washed over both women’s faces.
“Is there any way that they could have inseminated you?”
“I suppose, I’m not sure.” She nodded, continuing her probing as she performed the exam.
“Well, Y/N, the blood work doesn’t show any anomalies at the moment, no drugs or alcohol,” she started. “There is some significant tissue damage to the endometrium and cervical canal.” She stood, removing the tool, and setting it on a tray before removing her gloves and throwing them away. “You will likely develop some vaginal scarring as a result. This may or may not result in painful intercourse, as well as more painful periods.”
Nodding, you look up at the doctor, as she comes over to the side of your bed.
“If you would like, I can give you some OTC contraceptives, in the chance that you may have been inseminated. With it being a week after your assault, it is hard to tell if you are yet. ”
”A week?” You ask, your eyes narrowing at the new information.
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“I’ve been out for a week?”
“Well, not out, necessarily, but your body has been in a recovery mode, of sorts. You’ve been in and out of sleep all week.” Kris said quietly from the corner.
I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 16
You're a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.
A/N: Shorter chapter, as I work through some of the thick stuff. TW- torture/abuse, brief mention of coma, blood. Definite angst.
2.2K Word Count
CH 16: You’re Gonna Get What’s Coming to You
“Now, aren’t you glad that you moved into these luxury apartments, that have… Every. Unit. Soundproofed?” He punctuated each word by cinching the knots on your hands and feet tighter before he tied your waist down to the base of the chair. “I’m not even going to bother trying to keep you quiet, no one will hear you anyway.”
“What do you mean, Waters…” you tapered off as he disappeared behind you. You grimaced as you felt cold steel at the base of your neck, a shiver being sent down your spine as he trailed it down your neck and he walked back in front of you. You could feel a slight warmth and a drip, so you knew he drew blood. “Waters, what are you doing? Do you think this is going to change anything?” You asked, watching as he took his time tracing some of your visible tattoos with the blade in his hand. At this point, you were glad you told Kris an hour. “This is only going to make things worse for you, Waters.”
“Shut. UP.” He snarled at you, before hooking the buttons of your shirt with the end of the knife, and slowly working it up, popping the buttons and sending them flying in various directions across your kitchen. “How about, you just keep that disgusting mouth of yours shut, hmmm?” He leaned in a wry smile on his features. “I think it’s been long overdue for you to get your last lesson, what do you think?” He ran the blade along the side of your face, giving you a cut that mirrored the scar that now ran along his face. In your research, you found out he had been involved in a nasty prison brawl that resulted in him receiving a large laceration on his face.
“Fuck off.” You growled back.
“Tsk tsk… such a shame.” He ran the blade again along your cheek, a sharp pain emanating as he cut from the bridge of your nose to the apex of your cheekbone. “You could have been good. Really good.” He continued to run the blade over various parts of your body but was concentrating on your face and neck, which made you extremely nervous. He suddenly grabbed your face, roughly, squeezing your jaw in a vise-like grip, forcing you to look at him. You watched as he brought the 12-inch blade up and felt him trace your jawline, before bringing the blade up and digging it into the scar on your eyebrow from all those years ago.
“Fuck!” You yelled as he dug the blade deeper, cutting further than your original scar had. You felt the blood begin to run down your face, burning as it pooled in your eye, blurring your vision. He laughed maniacally as you wiggled in the chair, working your wrists together to try and loosen the rope, which felt like it was only getting tighter. “Waters, just leave her alone. She was…she was just doing what she was paid to do. She isn’t even Russian, Waters. Just…just get your retribution with me… and leave her out of it…”
“Ohhh… Y/L/N. You cannot seriously believe that this is purely because of some character she played…” he paced in circles around you, so you let your head fall backward to keep the blood out of your eye. “This, this is a message, Y/L/N. We’re sending a message to the scum that everyone calls ‘Hollywood Elite’, that they are all tarnishing the image of this country you and I fought to protect.”
“What image is that, Waters?” You growl, your head hanging low as the blood from your face drips onto your knee, you watch it out of your good eye as it seeps into the fabric of your pants. He let out a maniacal laugh as he continued to walk around the chair you were tied to. You hoped to get him going on a tangent, to get him talking so it would take longer before he presumably did to you what he did all those years ago- and if you got him to talk enough, to stall enough, then I would be long enough for Kris to hopefully send someone to you.
“Hollywood, the film industry, has always portrayed this convoluted image of what this country is, what it stands for…” your laugh, disrupting his rant, and causing him to stop pacing. “SHUT. UP.” He points the knife in your direction, giving you a crazed look.
“Mmhmm. Okay. Continue.” You respond.
“As I was saying…They portray this nation through a lens. We are never the aggressor- always passive. The ways we are portrayed, it's like they want us to look… weak. Like we are too wrapped up in ourselves to care about what anyone else is doing. ”
“You’re delusional, Waters. We are literally like that.”
“SHUT. IT.” He screamed, slamming his hands onto the countertop behind you. You throw your hands up in defeat.
“Fine. Shutting it.”
“See?! You’re part of the fucking problem! You can’t honestly believe that we are oblivious to everything. We have threats from the inside, out. Your little project is one of them. You may believe that she is some poor little movie star, but she is part of the problem. You may believe she’s innocent in this, but she is just as guilty as the next guy. These movies your ‘client’ plays in, are popular, and they’re colorful. But they portray a simple, almost basic, and nonviable notion of what our combat looks like. What our hell looks like.”
“Waters, you and I have a different sense of what hell looks like.”
“I don’t want to hear it, Y/N. You sent me to a literal hell on earth. You RUINED my life.”
“No, I didn’t do a damn thing, Steven. I merely existed, and YOU… you decided to act in the way you did. You ruined your life, I didn’t.”
“I was helping you.”
“Helping me, my ass.”
“Oh don’t pretend that a small part of you didn’t enjoy it. You know that part of you yearned for that kind of attention. To be normal.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I am normal. You’re the sick one in this equation.”
“Mhmm… keep telling yourself that. That is why this assignment is so… perfect. I can take care of the one who ruined me, and one of the largest celebrities ruining this country. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “STOP with the attitude.” He stands in front of you, lowering his gaze to your level. He runs the backside of the knife up your face, before placing the tip parallel to the scar over your eye. With a quick flick, he adds another cut. “Now, time for me to…finish what I started.”
You felt like it had been sufficiently long enough that someone should be here by now. You could feel the blood running down the right side of your face. You were about to look up, but the sudden force to the side of your face knocked you unconscious.
***KRIS POV***
“Fuck!” You screamed as the phone went straight to voicemail for the third time. You knew better, you really did. You knew she wouldn’t answer. She had put the phone in airplane mode. You knew that. You just hoped that she would answer. Slamming the phone onto your desk, you ran to the elevator, repeatedly pushing the button to Cliff and Paul's floor. “Cmon, cmon cmon… fucking slow ass elevator! I just need to get up there!” As soon as the door opened, you ran down the hall to Paul's office, barging into his office without knocking. The look of shock on his face says it all.
“Ms. Smith, what seems to be the issue?”
“It’s Y/L/N. Something is wrong.”
“Well, yes. That’s why we sent her home. She’s not right, right now.”
“No, no, NO! That’s not what I mean. She left, and I got a text from her. She said something wasn’t right, to bump Johanssons security, and if I didn’t hear from her in an hour that he was at her apartment. Something. Isn’t. Right.” You punctuate each point.
“Who is at her apartment, Smith?” Another voice asks. You turn, seeing Zlatkov sitting across the room.
“Waters, boss. They have a history. He isn’t just hunting Scarlett anymore. When he found out that her team was going to hire us, and that Y/N is our head of all major projects, he started following her too.”
“What makes you so certain Y/N was being followed?” Cliff asked.
“Shit… she, uhhh… she told me. Kind of. ”
“That makes no sense, Kris.” Paul chimed in.
“It started with someone watching from across the street from her apartment here. She was followed from her house in Montana, and she’s been getting calls. Each time, they’re not long enough to trace. All from different numbers. But they’re from him.”
“What am I missing here?” Cliff asked you and Paul. Paul sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I think it’s time we make a little field trip,” Paul says, gathering his coat from the back of his chair. Cliff shoots you a confused look, and you just shrug.
“Hold on, I need to know what’s going on!” Cliff yells, causing both of you to look his way.
“Cliff, do you remember when we were in the process of hiring Y/N, and her military file was partially redacted?”
“Yes.”
You let out a deep sigh, knowing where this was going. You knew some of the details of what had happened to Y/N during her time in the Army, deep discussions that had been held in twilight hours, nights where there had been full of lust and passion. Nights that trust had been built, and you have a sneaky suspicion that the trust you had built was about to be shattered. You hadn’t been made privy to all the details, but enough that you knew why she did what she did, and what made her tick.
“Okay, we’ll keep that in mind. Now, let’s go. It doesn’t sound like we have much time. ” Paul looks your way, before turning and walking out of his office. You quickly followed Cliff right behind you.
“Where do we need to go?” Cliff asked, as Paul fished the keys to his work vehicle out of his pocket, and headed towards the elevator.
“We’re going to pay a visit to the one person besides Y/N who can give us some answers.”
The drive was silent and short, but to say that you and Cliff were both utterly confused when you pulled up in front of the hospital was an understatement.
“The only person who can give us some answers is Grange,” Paul answered the questioning look in the rearview mirror.
“But Grange is in a coma.” You respond eyebrow quipped as you climb out of the SUV.
“Nope. He was woken up this morning. I hadn’t gotten the chance yet to tell Y/L/N.” Paul responded as Cliff stood nodding his head.
“Ahh. So let's bombard him with the news that somebody that he regards as a daughter is likely being held by a psycho. And ask about her past. Awesome.” Paul cringed at the sarcasm, understanding your hesitance with this scenario.
“It’s not ideal, no. But it will give us an idea of who this guy really is… and why Y/N is so rattled.”
You all shuffled into the hospital, flashing your work badges to gain entry past the two guards standing by the elevator to the level Jim was on. Your company had set up multiple checkpoints, particularly with Jim being unconscious. The very real possibility of a retaliatory attack loomed, so guards and undercover were scattered throughout the hospital. The elevator door dinged, and you three walked down the corridor, towards the guarded room where Jim was. He was staring out the window as they approached, the sounds of their heels and shoes clicking down the hallway causing him to look their way. He had a smile, but it quickly faded as he realized how serious they were.
“Where’s Y/N?” He asked as soon as everyone was in his room. Your stomach dropped as he looked right at you.
“That’s why we’re here, Grange. It would seem that a certain someone from her past has made an appearance. We wanted to ask you to fill in the blanks.” Paul unbuttoned his sports coat, sitting in one of the chairs at the end of the bed. Jimmy scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, you could say that sick son of a bitch is back. This isn’t just an appearance. But I’m confused as to why you need to ask me. It’s Y/N that needs to tell you. If she hasn’t, then she doesn’t want to tell anyone.”
Whew. He said what you were thinking the entire way over here.
“Well, unfortunately, it is now interfering with this project, and her work. So we need to know what you do.” Cliff chimed in.
“Why don’t you ask her yourself, then?” He looked between the three of you.
“That’s the thing, Jimmy. We think that he has her right now.” You finally spoke, Jim’s face going pale when he realized the weight of what was just said.
“Then…” he sighed, rubbing between his eyes. “You need to be helping her. Finding her. You can ask us after the fact. You shouldn’t be here asking me to tell you what only she can tell.”
I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 1
You're a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.
Here it is, the first story. Chapter numero uno. No smutty stuff yet, but it'll be incoming. If y'all like it, I'll keep posting. It will be a series. A long one, the plot needs to thicken. Bonus points if you can tell where the lyrics are from XD
3K Word Count
Chapter One- Are You At One, Or Do You Lie?
You stood on a patio, gripping your fresh mug of coffee as you gazed out towards the vast landscape that lay to the front of you. Sleep had eluded you all night, and when the decision had finally been made that you weren’t going to receive a restful slumber- you groggily made your way to the kitchen of mountain home for a source of fuel. Bundled in your favorite zip up hoodie and some fleece lined sweatpants, you made a strong cup of coffee and slowly made your way to the best part of the home (at least, to you).
This place you called home was far from most’s idea of humble and conservative, but to you it was a dream, and it was the perfect place to escape your tiny city apartment. Those who you trusted enough to bring here, upon their first visit could not believe that the slummy 600 sqft. apartment you slept in within city limits belonged to the same person who owned this chateau. It was easily ten times the size, housed your selection of transport handily- and allowed you to tinker and build to your hearts desire- in your free time.
Free time was a concept that had eluded you the past 8 months. This was the first time you had been able to escape the demanding requests of what allowed you such luxuries- your job that you had once loved. It allowed you to live this lifestyle of multiple residences, cars of your dreams, and a comfortable living since your early graduation from college, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for that. Of late, the very job you swore you owed your happiness and gratitude for had completely drained you of all satisfaction you once held. The switch to a new management company and new bosses has made your life a living hell, and you were simply exhausted. You had spent the last year helping to roll everything over for this new ownership group, working tirelessly and many times staying at your corner office in a posh downtown Los Angeles high-rise, sleeping on the sofa that sat across desk.
Being a high ranking executive officer for a government-trusted security firm, you saw everything. The early exit from college sent you straight to the military- quickly earning the respect of all around you, and you worked the ranks within your 6 years in the US Army as fast as anyone ever had- particularly for a woman. Holding the title of a three star general was sheer insanity, with which no one thought it was a possibility to obtain a rank that high, that quickly- not without the drama and rumors, at least. That is what made you discharge with honors, quickly accepting your current position as the Chief Executive to Internal Affairs, which was a fancy way of saying you were in charge of the clean-up. You handled all internal affairs, information leaks, and other messes that someone’s lackadaisical attitude or poor judgment had created. You were also a secret weapon, of sorts. Many mistook your title as one where your hands never got dirty, you would have someone handle your “dirty work”. Oh, the fact that you handled it personally messed with many of the poor soul’s minds with whom you had to scour their mistakes and tie up any loose ends.
You were leaning up against one of the main support logs with your steaming cup, a timber that held the weight of a massive roofline, shielding your best mountain view from too much weather. The only lights on were the under cabinet lights in your kitchen, which was 30 or so feet behind you, behind a wall of glass that you demanded the house be built around. You had all but built the majority of the house yourself, the lack of control was too much- only contracting out the major structural aspects and work that was too involved for you to do alone. You had also purchased a fair amount of land surrounding your escape, to the tune of a few thousand acres. You wanted to ensure the utmost in privacy, and also security. Your career ensured that you made more than a lifetimes worth of enemies, as you more often than not cost them their jobs, at least.
Sometimes you cost people all but their lives, but made them wish you had just taken that instead. To this you had long since steeled your emotions to this, as it was a part of the business. The land included a large lake- so even on frigid night like tonight, you found solace in coming outside with something to warm your hands, while gazing at the reflection of the mountains and the nighttime sky reflecting in its calm waters, your boat barely moving against its dock. As you found yourself becoming more and more entranced by the view in front of you, the ever so slightly lightening of the sky before you and the vibration of the watch on your wrist told you that you needed to try and get at lest a few hours sleep, so you begrudgingly turned around, and placed the half empty mug of coffee in the sink, before slinking over to your sofa and flinging your exhausted form onto it, and turning into its back for a nap. Today was going to be a big day, so you needed some rest.
Your eyes opened right before your alarm went off on your cell phone, and you slowly sat up and groaned, muttering a “fuck” to yourself before standing up and stretching your sore body. You shuffled off to the master suite upstairs, quickly discarding the hoodie and sweatpants before walking into the shower to fire up its multitude of jets and shower heads with steaming water. You desperately needed to rinse off the lack of restful sleep and freshen up for your day. You grabbed a fresh towel from the linen cabinet that towered next to your side of the sprawling double vanity. The combination of wood and stone always calmed you- and it was evident in how this home was designed.
The shower you stepped inside of appeared as thought it had been cut out of a mountainside- with stone ledges holding all of your favorite soaps, shampoos and conditioners, and made you feel like you were showering in a waterfall. As the water cascaded and massaged at your aching form, you grabbed onto your soap of choice for the day, and lathered it all over your tattooed, chiseled body. Your parents had never been happy with your decision to tattoo the majority of your body, particularly the back of your neck. That had been the final straw of disappointment from you- they haven’t spoken to you since. Your childhood was highly conservative, as your dad was a southern, religious and military man himself, and your mom was the epitome of a housewife. She would bend to his opinion and will, as though she had no say of her own. While you deeply loved your mother, you could not stand to see how her opinions and values disappeared over time- being taken over by your strict fathers.
It’s not that you really mind that they cut you out- as you had always longed for your own sense of being, and hated living in your fathers shadow. The tattoos were at first seen as “acting out”, but they quickly realized that it went further than that, and you weren’t going to hear any of their disapproval regarding what you did with your body. The short hair dyed in any and every color, piercings that came and went, and ink were your way of displaying your current state. As you turned around to shut off the water, you reached out of the veil of steam that was flowing around the shower, and grabbed the towel hung on a convenient rack just on the outside of the showers walls, made to look like dead wood. You peered over at the large mirror, slicking back the dark brown and blonde streaked hair, leaning on the counter to truly see how exhausted you look. “You look like hell, Y/L/N.” You say to yourself in the mirror, before carrying on with your morning routine.
Opting for a navy blue pinstripe suit, with a black button up, you mussed your hair in the mirror, giving it your signature tousled look, before turning to weave the brown belt through the loops around your trim waist. You grabbed the matching pair of brown shoes out of your walk in closet, and slipped them onto your feet before turning and looking at your appearance in the mirror. You had always been an athletic kid, and the myriad of sports you were involved in growing up allowed you the luxury of a muscular build on your tall frame. You weren’t insanely tall, average for your family, but taller than most. You looked down as your watch vibrated on your wrist, reminding you that you needed to leave soon- otherwise your commute to work would take you past your typical start time, which was not the impression you wanted to set for the new bosses. You quickly spun around on the hardwood floor, grabbing your cologne from the wooden shelf, and spraying it onto your pulse point and wrists before grabbing the keys hanging below and making your way out of the bedroom and towards the other wing of your house- where all your toys were kept.
Typically you wouldn’t escape unless you had at least a few days to spend here, as this was seriously out of your way for a commute to work. But you needed the respite. Work had been abnormally stressful for you, as you were planning for a massive undertaking at work- a new security project that required the best of the best- so you were “volunteered” to be the only person for this mystery operation. You arrived in the warehouse of vehicles that were varying degrees of extravagance- from classic cars to modern exotics, you had your bases covered. You walked past them all, climbing a spiral staircase the the opposite end of the garage, and opening a hefty steel door and walking out to your helicopter. Your days in the military afforded you many things- a pilots license being one of them. You quickly climbed inside, placing the headset hanging from the ceiling next to you onto your head, and grabbing the aviator sunglasses on the seat next to you before switching all the necessary toggles and firing up the machine. You announced your presence to the nearby air traffic control tower- located in the neighboring city, before gently pulling the joystick between your legs and slowly raising the vehicle off of the ground, and up towards the city. The two hour flight to work would be plenty of time for you to get your mind into work mode.
You swiftly landed the helicopter on the rooftop of your workplace, only to be greeted by your new boss, as well as your assistant, Kris, waiting for you a safe distance off of the helipad. You hopped out of the copter, re-buttoning the top buttons of your pinstripe blazer, and walking towards the pair. Kris gently smiled your way, handing you a large cup of coffee, for which you were thankful. You nodded her way, raising your eyebrows so they could just be seen above your glasses as you too a sip of the liquid, then letting out a long sigh after swallowing the drink.
“Thank you.” You spoke quietly, and turned to your direct supervisor to shake his hand.
“Y/L/N. Good Morning, we have a lot to do today. I hope you are prepped and ready.” He lifted his head slightly, as he tried to make it like he was taller, so he could look down towards you.
“Yessir. I’ve been prepared for the last two months, sir.” You replied curtly as he turned and stalked back to the doorway that would descend back down to the executive level of the office.
“You look like shit, Y/N…” Kris whispered to you as you both walked behind your boss, a slight look of worry on her face. She had been one of the first people you met after you discharged from the military, and moved to Los Angeles. You had actually gotten her this job as your new assistant as she was one of the few you knew you could trust, and your former assistant had kept trying your patience and trust. She was dressed up more than usual, wearing a tight black pencil skirt, that fell just below her knees. It was slightly split up the back, and allowed you the slightest view of her toned thighs. She wore a dark green blouse, and her blonde hair was wrapped up in a bun, with her black glasses framing her piercingly grey eyes. That was the first thing you had noticed about the woman when you first met- how her eyes seemed to be so colorless, yet full of emotion. You both had tried the whole relationship thing- but with your lack of comfort within yourself to fully admit you were gay, and years of pretending you weren’t, being in the military and with your conservative parents- you had both decided that you couldn’t be together, but were mature enough to recognize that you both were good friends, and wouldn’t let the failed attempt ruin your friendship. But, the brief glimpse beyond your hardened, tattooed exterior allowed her to read you like a fucking book. And you hated it.
“Thanks, Sherlock.” You smirked over your coffee cup, as you approached the elevator to take you down towards your office.
“You’re working too much.” She stated flatly.
“No, I’m only doing what is necessary.” You state, and she rolls her eyes as you peel the glasses off your face, setting them on top of your hair. You briefly glance her direction to notice she rolls her eyes at you before the doors ding open, leading you towards a long marble lined hallway flanked by frosted glass doors and windows. You both walked towards the door that led you to your office.
“You never fly to McCall unless you can stay for a period of time. You flew there to stay the night? That’s not like you.” She was walking in front of you to be able to open the door before you approached it.
“Yeah, so? It’s my house. I can go if I want. What made you so sure I went there in the first place?” You asked pointedly, not meaning to come out that rude as you crossed the threshold to your office.
“Your car was still in the parking garage when I left last night. I came back up to check on you, but you were gone. I went upstairs and the heli was gone.” She narrowed her eyes in your direction. She always warned you not to burn the candle at both ends, but you did it anyways.
“You don’t need to check on me. I’m a grown ass woman, I will do what I need to for my job.”
“Y/N, this isn’t about work. You need to take care of you.” She spits back pointedly, before spinning on her heels and walking back out the door towards her office next door. You sighed, rubbing your hands on your face, before removing the blazer adorning your shoulders, and unbuttoning the cuffs to your black dress shirt, allowing you to slightly roll up the sleeves to show some of your inked skin. The holster you wore on your hip that housed your work pistol came off, to be sat next to your on your desk. You sat rather heavily into your large leather chair, taking a deep breath and opening your laptop to begin checking your emails.
You scrolled through every email, skimming them over, deleting the unnecessary ones, forwarding ones to Kris that she could handle, and finally your eyes fell upon the email you knew was coming. There was an attachment that was rather large, and you had to print it off before slipping it into a file and making your way towards the board room two floors down. You heard Kris’s door open as you opted to go down the stairs instead, and opened the door to lead you down towards your next assignment. You took the opportunity to glance at the file as you swiftly descended the stairs, and right as you approached the door to the correct floor, it opened up- causing your eyes to dart up and be met with a discontent gaze of your best friend. You blankly stared back as you walked by her, and made your way to the board room.
“Did you read any of that file yet?” She asked, shuffling a little bit quicker to catch up with you.
“Some of it, yes. Why are the names redacted? I have the highest security clearance of anyone here.” You turned to your assistant, who shrugged her shoulders, narrowing her eyes as she reached for the folder, to open the pages and confirm what you had already stated. You approached the door to the boardroom, the occupants of the room were obscured by heavily frosted glass, but you could hear a faint conversation. Kris shrugged, not knowing why, and stepped around you, to grab the door and hold it open for you. As you step inside the room, your eyes glance from person to person, astutely taking in their demeanors as your gaze bounces from person to person. First, your bosses, who were starting at you expectantly, and then to the people in the room you had no clue of- except one.
“Are you ready to start, Y/L/N?” The owner of your company asked. Your eyes remained locked onto the blonde bombshell sitting at the far end of the table, surrounded by people you assume are her assistants. You sit down at the opposite end of the table, without breaking eye contact.
“I thought we were a government military contractor, not some for-hire security outfit.” You state coldly as you sat next to your boss. He glared back at you, giving you the impression that this was not the time.
“We’re not for hire. But when someone asks for the best, they ask for us- more specifically, you, Y/L/N.” He quipped back. “And I shouldn’t have to remind you, that in this business- money talks. Back to business,” He says pointedly in your direction, earning a smirk from both blondes in your presence.
(CHAPTER 2)
A/N: Nothing like making your boss call you out in a meeting, amiright? Let me know what you think!
I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 17
You're a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.
A/N: Short chapter, with the weight of it all. TW- torture/abuse, brief mention of coma, blood. Definite angst.
1.8K Word Count
CH 17 : A Pebble in the Water Makes a Ripple Effect
You sat, head drooped, chin resting on your chest in the middle of the kitchen to your apartment. Waters had sufficiently made himself at home since it seemed you weren’t going to be getting any relief anytime soon. No one had shown up to your apartment like you had asked of Kris, and you were beginning to spiral, wondering if anyone would ever show. Your clothes had been haphazardly ripped, giving the man access to all the assets he deemed necessary for his ‘therapy’. You cringed as he sat on your sofa, half-naked and smoking a cigarette. You now had dried blood running down your face, neck, and chest, and he made sure to leave you some “souvenirs”, some deep little punctures in your torso and sides. You grimaced at the feeling of these cuts bleeding, drying, and cracking open anytime he forced you to move. The throbbing pressure of the black eye you were sure he gave you is causing your vision to blur with each beat of your heart. You know that isn’t good.
“Showtime, slut.” He says as he finishes whatever he was watching on his phone, throwing it on the sofa before coming over to you, his semi-hard erection now shoved into your face. “You know what to do. You’re going to give me this, or that little actress friend of yours is going to end up just like Camila. Or Nikki.” He grabbed his gun off the counter behind you, shoving it against your temple before forcing your mouth open far enough for him to force his way inside. While he was groaning, the mere thought and feeling of this was making your insides churn. The thought of Scarlett having to endure this, just becoming another one of his victims, didn’t sit well with you. You wouldn’t, couldn’t let it happen. So you just sat there, before he grabbed the back of your head with his other hand, pushing you down. “Fuck, it’s been so long. Don’t you feel better?” He grunts as you bite down slightly, causing him yelp and to pull your hair so he can pull you off of him.
“Fuck off, Waters.” You growled, he just smirked and shoved himself back into your face. You couldn’t help but let him have his way, knowing he would make everything significantly worse if you fought back too much. He began thrusting himself down your throat while you sat there and took it. Disconnecting from your body, your mind began to wander as far away from this place as possible. His thrusts started to become sporadic, and his head lolled backward as he grabbed the back of your head, slamming the full length into your mouth as he came. He grunted and panted as you leaned back, your skin crawling. You didn’t want to swallow, but he held your jaw shut, forcing you to down the vile substance. You wanted to purge your stomach, but that would make your punishment so much worse from him. So you sat back, you took it. That’s all you could do.
He now stood in front of you, trousers pulled up, but hanging off his hips unbuttoned, a smirk eerily creeping across his lips. He stood there, unscrewing the silencer from his sidearm, your mind wondering what the hell he was doing. Your apartment was soundproofed, but not THAT soundproof.
“Ohh, I see that you’re wondering what I’m doing…” he sets the pistol off to the side before turning his heel back to you. Goosebumps set your skin ablaze as the silencer was drug across the countertop, before dropping it to your bare shoulder. The moment of realization hits you as the cold, matte black metal tube is brought lower and lower. He bites his lip as the barrel is brought below your waistline, and he slides it over to your upper thigh. Slowly, he pushes the silencer into you, you grimaced at the burn, feeling the tube deep within you. You looked up, not wanting to see the face or the scene unfolding before you. He began to work it in and out of you slowly, seemingly enjoying the grimace you were currently wearing.
Your mind began to wander, as the vision of Waters yelling in your peripheral faded to the background. Your mind began to spiral, wondering why no one had shown up yet, if anyone would show up. Or who it will be. Hopefully, it isn’t Kris who shows up, you don’t want her to see you like this. Relationship or not. The only person you would be okay with is Jim, and he is out of the question- he is in a coma because the man currently yelling at you decided he needed to “reform” you. This was your fault. Nix and Cam’s deaths were your fault. Waters’ psychological break, and sending him to prison, was all YOUR FAULT. He is now involving an innocent person, Scarlett, because of you.
The spiral began to worsen, you began to rock around, trying to free yourself from your mind’s restraint. There wasn’t anyone or anything here that was grounding to you- he had taken away any solace you had built within these walls. Flashes of the ashtray flying towards your face, the razor’s edge of his hunting knife slicing your eyebrow, the feeling of his hands on your ribcage, bruising you before he threw you on the ground and kicked your ribs. Camila looking over your beaten, abused body in the locker room, the look on Nix’s face when she saw your condition as you fell into her arms. The look of the courtroom as your attorney told the judge and jury of your aborted child, the child he had fathered. Your body being tossed from the back of a moving Ford Explorer- the government-issued car he drove around in over, and over again. You were trapped inside your mind, and who knows for how long you were trapped within the bone walls.
You were brought out of your trance by two cold hands on the sides of your face, a familiar, dulcet voice cutting through the fog your brain had provided. Your head was spinning but began to come into focus, a distraught Kris kneeling in front of you, Paul and Cliff were standing behind her in the living room, giving you some space. Your bosses gave you a once over, silently nodding to Kris before leaving the apartment. As the front door opened and shut, you noticed it was now dark outside.
“Y/N? Honey? You in there?” She asked quietly, concern laced on all of her features. A groan was your only response to her. “Okay, okay… let me get you some clothes. Do you have something comfortable here to wear?” You shook your head ever so slightly, the goose egg on your forehead now making its presence known as the throbbing started. You winced in pain, and Kris grimaced. “Let me get you some medicine.” You shook your head, remembering what had taken place before Kris interrupted your flashback. She stood, walking up the stairs to find you some clothes since what you had been wearing was sufficiently torn and thrown all over the apartment. Upon the realization that you were no longer tied down, you threw yourself at the kitchen sink, emptying your stomach into the stainless steel basin.
“Be careful, Y/N!” Kris came running back to you, a pair of joggers and a simple black hoodie in hand. She threw the clothes onto the counter behind you, rushing to your side and sliding her hand up your back, just as the contents of your stomach had been purged. You jumped at the contact, cowering away from Kris like she had just burned you. “Y/N, it’s me, honey. It’s Kris. I’m not going to hurt you, but I need to clean these cuts up before you get dressed.” You shook your head, the tears coming out of your eyes without any control.
“Please, get someone to Scarlett…” You whispered before you fell to the ground, and the last thing you saw was her face looking down at you, teary-eyed and concerned as you faded out of consciousness.
***
You woke up to the dull hum of the equipment around you, a strong smell of disinfectant awakening the rest of your senses as you gingerly opened your eyes. The bright, sterile environment causes you to gasp in pain, suddenly aware of the surging pain throughout your body. You could feel the gauze wrapped around your head, covering the throbbing mound on your forehead and concealing the majority of the cut to your eyebrow. Blinking, you tried to get your brain and eyes to focus, seeing a blurry Kris seated across from you in the hospital room. Even from 10 feet away, and with the haze you were still in, you could see the worry etched into her features. Her eyes, usually so bright and mischievous, were filled with a fear you hadn't seen before.
“You're awake,” she said, her voice shaky. “I’ve never seen you like this, Y/N… I was so scared.” You grunted, not wanting to talk due to the searing pain ripping throughout your body. “How do you feel?” She asked quietly, leaning forward in her seat, clearly not wanting to push your limits. Quietly, you let out a hoarse response.
“I’ve been better, Kris.”
“I know that, Y/N. But what are you feeling? We came into quite a mess.”
“It wouldn’t have been such a mess had you shown up sooner.” You fired back, your uncovered eye narrowing in her direction.
“Now, Y/N… we got there as fast as possible. Your cryptic texts didn’t help any.”
“Cryptic?! I said if an hour went by, and I didn’t call you, something was wrong. It was 3 PM and light out when he was in my apartment, and dark out when you snapped me from my flashback.” You were whisper shouting at Kris, not wanting the hospital staff to come running to you screaming at Kris, or to feel the pounding in your head such a reaction would surely induce. Her face shifted from worry to a more guilt-ridden expression, as something struck her.
“It was Chris, he wanted to try and figure out why you would request a bump in security without reason. He was trying to make heads or tails as to why every time we did something, Waters was two steps ahead of us. He began to ask me questions, Y/N. Questions only you or Jim could answer. I told them both that he had been following you as well, and they asked how I knew. So I told them about Montana, about him following you from your house, calling and texting you.”
“Okay, so?”
“So instead of trying to get information from you, Paul decided that Jim should be the first source of information.”
“But Jim is in a coma. He couldn’t tell you anything, so why would you go there first?”
I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 14
You're a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.
A/N: Shorter, angsty chapter, y'all. We're working up to some stuff ;] bare with me as I am working thru some personal stuff, so I haven't been able to write as much.
1.3K Word Count
Ch 14: I Just Want You to Know Who I Am
“Y/N? Y/N?” You heard a faint call of your name, and a grip on your shoulder. You quickly realized that you had just had a flashback in the middle of working out, at work. Looking around, Scarlett was leaning you up against the cool surface of the mirrored wall behind you. Her features laced in concern as she wiped your face with your towel, rubbing your arm as you came back to reality. “Count for me, Y/N. Breathe. I’m here. Focus on me.” She grabbed your hand in hers, placing it over her now sweaty chest, allowing you to feel her pulse through the hoodie she wore. Once you came to the realization of what was going on, you quickly scrambled away from her, standing and brushing yourself off.
Clearing your throat, you straightened yourself out, taking a deep breath.
“Sorry, Scarlett. Don’t know what happened there.” You nervously ran your hand over the back of your neck, walking around the actress to grab the water bottle leaning against your bag on the floor.
“I would say you had a panic attack, Y/L/N.” She now stood where she had been kneeling next to you, but hadn’t yet turned around to face you.
“It’s been a long day, for both of us.” You respond, glancing over your shoulder as she turned on her heels to face you. You began to unwrap your fists, grimacing at the tape and gauze sticking to your battered knuckles.
“I know we don’t know each over very well, Y/N, but do you want to talk about it? It may help…” she asked, walking around so you were facing each other. She gasped when she saw the condition of your fists. “Your hands, Y/N.” You quickly withdrew them from her hands. You pretend not to noticed the look of disappointment that flashed across her face in doing so.
“It’s okay, Scarlett. How long was I on the ground?” You asked, wiping off your hands before wiping off the rest of your arms and your head.
“You were just sitting there, mumbling before you started to breath really heavy. 20 minutes, I’d say.” She responds. “I thought you were winded at first.”
“Oh.” You sat yourself on the bench in the middle of the gym, elbows resting on your knees, water bottle in your hand. She sat next to you, the pair of you sitting in silence for what felt like forever. But to you, it was one of the most comfortable silences you had ever been in. No pressure, just comfort. After a period of time, and half your water bottle gone, you break the silence. “I don’t know how he is.” You whispered, putting your head down. “The one man who has protected me through everything, and I led him into a trap.” You spoke softly, playing with the water bottle in your grasp.
“It wasn’t your fault, Y/N.” She whispered, inching herself closer to you. You slid a little bit further away, not wanting to allow yourself the comfort.
“But it was, Scarlett. I put him in that situation. I’m the leader…I’m…”
“Y/N, stop. You couldn’t have possibly predicted that they would t-bone the car.” She reached out for you, gently grabbing your bruised hand.
“It should have been me, Scarlett.”
“No, Y/L/N. Don’t you dare.” You pulled your hand away from her, grabbing your water bottle again. You stood, clearing your throat from the rock that was now lodged in it.
“I’m going to shower, Scarlett. If you want to keep working out, make yourself at home. I’ll… uhh. I’ll be back in a minute.” You walked away, leaving a speechless blonde on the bench in the middle of the room.
After getting to your locker, you stripped yourself of the gym clothes, stepping foot into one of the shower stalls before cranking the water all the way to its hottest temperature. You needed to loosen yourself up. You allowed the hot water to run over your body in an effort to de-stress. You cannot believe you had a flashback in the middle of the gym at work. Let alone, in front of your client, the person you should be protecting. She can’t see you weak. You cannot let her see you like that, ever- ever again. It will only compromise things more. You steel yourself, talking yourself down as you rinse your self off.
Grabbing the towel hanging outside the shower, you cover yourself, walking back to the locker with your name on it, and putting your sweatpants and tee shirt back on. Collecting your thoughts, and yourself, you took a deep breath, and walked out of the locker room. Looking around, you see no sign of Scarlett.
“Scarlett?” You call out, but get no answer. “Scarlett? ”
“Y/N.” Kris called out. “She’s upstairs. In the board room.”
“Oh. Thanks, Kris.” You began to walk by the other blonde. As you passed her, she quipped over her shoulder.
“What the fuck happened down here? She said you weren’t ok, that’s why I’m here.”
“I’m fine, Kris. Look at me. Fine.” You emphasize the last part, to exaggerate that you were ok, even though you and her both knew you weren’t.
“Y/N. You know you can’t do your job if you aren’t in the right state of mind.” She turned on her heel, standing with her hands on her hips to face you.
“Kris. Seriously. I’m fine.”
“Mmhm.” She responded, raising her eyebrow before walking past you. “I don’t know why I ask. You never tell, anyways.”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell.” You mumble, just loud enough she can tell you said something.
“What?”
“Thanks for checking, Kris.” You walk past her, heading to the stairs. You didn’t want to be trapped in the same elevator as her right now.
***
Later that night, you had taken Scarlett to a friends house, she wasn’t quite comfortable to stay by herself. Another actress, someone she would be starring in a movie with. You had to do a walk around, make sure everything was safe, and leave a few guards posted outside. While waiting for the two guards to arrive, you were all seated in the living room to the beach house, a salty breeze blowing into the room as the two women talked.
“So, Y/N…” the actress introduced to you as Elizabeth Olsen, or Lizzie, turned towards you.
“Y/L/N. I go by my last name.” You respond coldly. Scarlett whips her head in your direction, a shocked expression on her face.
“Riiiight… Y/L/N. How’d you get into security?” She asked, trying to involve you in the banter back and forth.
“Military. This allows me to stay involved without being involved.” You respond curtly.
“Ahh. What branch?”
“Army.”
“Mmm. Well, thank you for your service.” She responded, quickly getting the hint that you didn’t want to talk about it. You rolled your eyes, looking at your hands. Lizzie and Scarlett went back to talking back and forth as you stood, deciding to do a real quick walk around the house before your two agents showed up.
“Y/N.” You heard the familiar rasp behind you.
“What?” You turn around abruptly, almost causing the blonde to run right into you.
“I’m not going to ask if you’re ok. I know you’re not. But I’m here, if you need to talk. I hope you know that.” She replies quietly.
“Thanks. But I’ll be fine.” You respond. Her face dropped.
“You don’t need to be like that, Y/L/N. The machismo doesn’t impress me.”
“Machismo?” You chuckle, shaking your head before dropping it to look at your feet briefly. You raise it back up, looking at her in the eyes. “This, this isn’t ‘machismo’, this isn’t ‘bravado’, this isn’t a blowhard type of show, Scarlett. I’m simply doing my job. We aren’t friends. You are my client, I am here to protect you. Not to chit chat over tea and fucking crumpets. So if you’ll excuse me, I am going to make some rounds, and make a phone call. My agents will be here over night, and will take you home in the morning.”
You left her, standing on the doorstep to her friends house, shocked.
I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 15
You're a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.
A/N: The angst and tension is going to go up in the next few chapters, before we come back into orbit... so be warned now.
2.6K Word Count
Ch 15: The Only Thing You Brought is Psychological Warfare
It had been a week since Jim was hit. A week, since you had messed up. At least, in your mind. Everyone in the office, even Cliff, told you that it wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could have done. But you knew different. It should have been you. The taunting texts and voicemails from Waters even confirmed your thoughts. Jim had been knocked unconscious during the accident, likely a result of the full barrel roll the SUV had endured. But he was alive. You had been in and out of the hospital all week, checking on him until he woke up after the hospital induced a coma to allow him to heal. He had sustained multiple broken ribs, a concussion, fractured arm and a nice goose egg above his left eye. But he was alive. Your team had tightened up security around Scarlett as a result, the fact that Steven was getting more brazen in his attempts to harm a direct result. You hadn’t spoke to Scarlett since she called you out on the balcony of her friends home. You hadn’t performed any lead work on security for her under the recommendation of your boss. It was uncalled for. She didn’t have the right to say that shit. She doesn’t even know you. You kept telling yourself that. But you knew she had a valid point. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to let someone in, for once.
But not today. You were filling out paperwork in one of the boardrooms, a quiet knock on the door rousing you from your thoughts.
“Busy.” You respond, not even looking up to see who was at the door. You thought they went away, but someone knocked again. “I’m busy.”
“Y/N.” The familiar dulcet tone of your assistant rang through the cracked door. You leaned back in the leather office chair, not even sparing the woman a glance.
“What, Kris? I’m in the middle of something, and if you haven’t noticed, I’m not in my office so I won’t be bothered.”
“Cliff and Paul need you. Something about Johansson.” You lean your head back onto the headrest of the chair, and stare at the ceiling.
“I’ll be there in 5.”
“They’re in your office, waiting. I’ll tell them you’re on your way.” With that, she shut the door behind her, a deafening click of the latch echoing through the silence of the boardroom. You gathered your files, your pen, and your notebook, tucking them under your arm as you skipped the elevator, opting to choose the stairs to go up the two flights to your office. You had been using the stairs more frequently of late- using it as a way to clear your head, seeing as how most everyone chose the elevator. When you pushed open the door to your floor, the click alerted Kris to your arrival. She sent you a questioning glance as you walked past, stepping foot in your office.
“Gentleman. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You asked as you set the files onto your desk, perching yourself onto the corner of your desk and facing the two men in the arm chairs of your office. Rolling the sleeves of your satin black dress shirt up your arms, you crossed them over your chest, as if they needed another reminder that you didn't want to be having a conversation.
“Y/L/N, this is about the detail for Scarlett.” Paul states dryly.
“Okay?” You respond.
“I think with what happened last week, we need to reevaluate. Clearly, Waters has a step ahead on us.” Cliff chimes in.
“That’s what we’ve been working through this week, has it not, Paul?” You turn to your supervisor, the tone of your voice almost daring him to say otherwise.
“Y/L/N, we think that maybe one of the other agents should head things up, let you run things from the office. At least for a while.” Paul continued. “That way, it can be seen that there is a rotation, keep Waters on his toes.” You sneered at Paul.
“Clearly, you all need to do some more homework, then.” You fire back.
“Y/L/N…” Cliff responds with a warning tone.
“NO! You don’t fucking get it!” You fire back, your tone now adamant as you stand at the head of your desk. “Waters is a trained bloodhound. He is NEVER on his fucking toes. He is programmed to always be two steps ahead. Removing me does nothing! He is fully anticipating that, along with a changing of the guard. As much as it pains me to admit, he isn’t fucking stupid.”
“I never said he was, Y/N. But we need to get ahead of him, for once. He has been ahead of us this entire time.” Cliff responds cooly.
“I fucking understand that, but first and foremost, we have to protect Johansson. She is the priority. I can try and shuffle her around some, break up her routine. That should buy us some time to figure out a way to get Waters backtracking.” You respond, walking behind your desk to sit in the large executives chair. “But I am warning you right now, if we change things too much, and he feels like his control is slipping, he becomes reactive. Nuclear. He WILL go scorched earth on everything in a means to destroy who he is after. And that is the last fucking thing we need.”
“Mmm. Sounds like you know more about Waters than what is in his file, Y/L/N.” Cliff looks up at you, trying to gauge your reaction.
“Oh, believe me, sir. I know him better than anyone.” You respond, leaning forward in the chair, keeping a stern glare on your boss.
***
After the debacle that was called a “meeting” to question your tactics with the protection detail, you decided you needed to step out, clear your head. Your head hadn’t exactly been on a swivel the past two weeks, but more a like being perched atop a rusty pole seized into place, looking at one singular thing. That was allowing Waters to run amuck in your peripheral, while you were focused too much in the past. You had to figure this out, so someone else wasn’t subjected to the torture you knew this man could dish out.
“Kris, I will be out of the office for the rest of the day, possibly tomorrow. I have some things to attend to. You know what to do.” You normally go into her office and tell her what you need of her while you’re out, but you decided to just call her desk line. You hung up immediately after, not leaving room for her to question or offer a rebuttal. You send an email to Paul and Cliff, telling them that you will be reachable for emergencies, but you need to re-evaluate the detail for Scarlett. And in order to do that to your standard, you cannot be bothered. You packed up your things, and made your way to the parking garage. This time, you had your black Challenger sitting in your parking spot, and you popped the trunk as you approached, throwing your bag in the back before climbing inside, pressing the clutch and letting the car rumble to life.
You were currently stuck in traffic on the way to your apartment, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel to the song stuck in your head. You wanted to get home, change, and go see Jim for a little bit before you sat down to figure out what the hell Waters angle is on Scarlett. Just as the traffic started to loosen back up, you heard your phone alert. It wasn’t your normal text tone. No- it was the tone that you had set for your security alerts. You looked over at your phone, gripping your phone tighter when you saw that the alarm at your apartment had been disabled. You knew exactly what was going on.
You waited for a brief second, before depressing the clutch and mashing the accelerator to the floor, veering yourself to the shoulder of the highway, and flying up the side, dangerously close to other vehicles. All it would take is one person to decide they didn’t like your tactic, and pull onto the side of the highway as well, and you would smash right into them. You were thankful as the exit you needed was approaching, and you cut off multiple people, causing a symphony of horns and yelling to come from those behind you as you cut completely across the highway, flying down the off ramp, and turning down the main thoroughfare that led you to your apartment. You continued to bob and weave your way through traffic, cutting through side streets, before arriving to your parking spot. You put the car in neutral, mashing the e-brake to the floor before killing the engine and getting out of your car as quickly as possible. You were glad you didn’t remove your shoulder holster, so you pulled your gun, approaching the door to your home away from home. You observed the blinds were drawn tight, which was unusual. You typically left them cracked so light could get in. The front door was shut, but not latched. Fuck. You quickly sent out a warning text, letting Kris know something isn’t right.
09:23 AM YOU- “Kris, something isn’t right. Make sure that they bump security for Johansson. Things aren’t adding up.”
09:25 AM Kris- “Y/L/N, what the hell are you talking about? I need reason to bring to Cliff and Paul, not just a hunch. You know that.”
09:26 AM YOU- “If I don’t call you in under an hour, then he’s here. At my apartment. And something went wrong.”
09:26 AM Kris- “So help me whatever god there is, Y/N, quit being fucking cryptic and tell me what the fuck is going on!”
09:28 AM Kris- “Y/N?”
09:32 AM Kris- “Answer your fucking phone!”
You had silenced your phone, putting it in airplane mode so no alerts you disrupt what may happen. You hoped to god that nothing would happen. As you began to reach for the door knob, the door swung open, revealing a very Chesire Cat, malicious smile. Your stomach dropped, but to say it wasn’t expected would be a lie. Steven.
“Well, well, well, Y/L/N. I was just making myself at home. How nice of you to join me so much earlier than anticipated. I appreciate it.” He motioned towards the living room, your living room, quickly following behind you. “Make your self at home, Y/L/N.” He leaned down, whispering in your ear, you could feel the disgusting trace of his hot breath on your ear, causing you to speed up to get as far away from him as possible, as you tried to keep your churning stomach from evacuating all of its contents on your rug. Finally steeling your emotions, you allowed yourself to talk.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Waters?” A cynical laugh erupted from behind you as you spun on your heel.
“Oh, Y/N. Don’t be rude to your guests.” He snarled, lunging in your direction, coming to a stop just before you. You could see his dull grey eyes, the scars adorning his cheekbones, and the addition of the wrinkles, smile lines and crows feet that are now adorning his face with the passage of time since you had last seen him.
“Guests? That’s rich coming from you. You’re the one who made yourself at home. I would hardly. Call. You. A. Guest.” You snarled back, equally leaning in, your faces almost touching. “But I understand that someone willingly being in your presence is a foreign concept for you, Waters.” Something in his eyes changed, but his expression did not.
“Oh, Y/L/N. That mouth of yours always gets you into trouble, doesn’t it? That’s why you’re here now, instead of doing your job, isn’t it? They want you off the lead for that pathetic client of yours.” Your expression faltered- he wasn’t entirely wrong, but you were here because you needed the day off to clear your mind. So far, that idea was going swimmingly. “I couldn’t help but notice you haven’t been hanging around with your new client, per usual. Did she get sick of you already?” You left a stoic expression on your face, not wanting to give this man any advantage. He was already in your apartment, that was enough of one. You watched as he now paced your living room, while you remained on one side of your sofa, leaning over so your arms were straight and you rested against the armrest.
“What’s your angle here, Steven? This is a lot of extra curricular for one target of yours…” he scoffed at this, turning on his heel to face you.
“DO NOT USE…MY NAME!!!” He yelled in your direction, you grimaced as you could see the spray come from his mouth in the remaining daylight. “It’s Waters to you, Y/L/N. Or do I need to remind you?” He stepped closer, and you could see how erratic he was being, and how close he seemed to be to loosing it completely.
“Waters. What are you playing at here? There’s a ton of extra bullshit going on here.” You try to calm the man pacing your living room, so he doesn’t completely fly off the cuff.
“I’m not playing at anything. You just so happen to be a pleasant surprise in this assignment. Now, I have two people I get to ruin… both of which I will take great pride in doing so.” He seemed to harden his features, turning to face you so he could gauge your reaction. “One of these people, just so happened to ruin EVERYTHING… and I mean EVERYTHING for me. You took my wife, my family, my freedom… all for what? So you could whore yourself out, and continue to walk this earth being the fucking abomination that you are? I wouldn’t be surprised if you slept with my ex-wife while you were ruining my fucking life!” He was now within an arms length of you- something that you did not care for.
You tried to step away, to give yourself more space, but he quickly reacted by grabbing your shirt and tie, pulling you closer.
“Do NOT pull away from me! You’re going to take your fucking punishment. I’m going to ruin you, just the same you did to me…” he growled in your face. You wanted to interject, tell him you were ruined just the same- but someone like him would never see it that way. “We are going to play a little game, Y/L/N… but it will probably be more fun for me, than it will be for you.” He used the grip he currently had on your shirt, pushing you to the high top chair that you just now realized he had placed in the middle of your kitchen. You were forced to sit, as he began to use some rope he had tucked away to tie you down.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Waters?!” Your voice was filled with anger, pent up frustration, and you were trying to compartmentalize the fear of what may be coming.
“Now, aren’t you glad that you moved into these luxury apartments, that have… Every. Unit. Soundproofed?” He punctuated each word by cinching the knots on your hands and feet tighter, before he tied your waist down to the chairs base. “I’m not even going to bother trying to keep you quiet, no one will hear you anyways.”
