#Jackson police department

[amaditalks]

Here’s something that the most recent stories have not included: Dexter Wade‘s mother, Bettersten Wade, is currently suing the Jackson Police Department for the wrongful death of her brother in 2019, when an officer slammed him to the ground causing deadly brain injury. The action was so egregious that the officer was convicted of manslaughter. The lawsuit remains pending in state court, though a federal lawsuit was dismissed.

The Jackson Police Department knows this family. They know Bettersten Wade. She has been a thorn in their side seeking justice for her murdered brother. 

The police department and the mayor’s office have tried to characterize the months that Mrs. Wade continued to contact police regularly, begging them to do more to find her son, and during which the coroner’s office had his body, knew who he was and expected police to make a proper death notification, as “miscommunication.”

The county coroner’s office still charged her $250 to “claim“ her son’s body, but it’s still in a pauper’s grave at the county penal colony because the family has to pay for him to be disinterred and reburied in a proper cemetery. The body was not embalmed, and was already in an advanced state of decomposition when it was buried.

This is who police are. Irredeemable. Unconscionable. Killers, liars and corrupt fiends.

HINDS COUNTY, Miss. (WJTV) – A Mississippi man who died after being struck by a police SUV was buried in a pauper’s cemetery without his family’s knowledge – despite having his state identification card in his pocket, civil rights attorney Ben Crump alleged Thursday.

Crump claimed that the exhumation of Dexter Wade’s body and discovery of the ID, which had his home address on it, as well as a credit card and health insurance card, indicates a serious effort to cover up how Wade died.

Crump confirmed to The Associated Press that the address on the ID card matched the address of Wade’s mother, Bettersten Wade, who said she didn’t learn of her son’s death until months after he was buried.

[svalleynow]

Scottsboro, AL Police identify victim in US-72 accident on Monday

Scottsboro, AL Police identify victim in US-72 accident on Monday...

The Scottsboro, Alabama Police Department says a vehicle accident on Monday claimed the life of a North Georgia man. According to a release from the department, officers with the Scottsboro Police Department responded to the accident with assistance from the Jackson County Sheriff’s Department, Scottsboro Fire Department, and Highlands Ambulance Service. The two-vehicle accident happened at the…

[indianainfamy]

Sex Sting Nabs New Whiteland Church Elder

“Nick from Bargersville, happily married, two children. Work at a local church, and a seminary student!” – Nicholas Jackson, accused sex offender WWJD? Probably not attempt to hook up with an underage girl, like this elderof Grace Bible Church in New Whiteland allegedly did. Law enforcement officials say Nicholas Jackson, 39, began texting an undercover detective posing as a 14-year-old girl in…

[myjelllybean]

Blurt it out

This is a Tim Bradford x reader fanfiction I had an idea for and just had to write it down. English is not my first language so there could be a few mistakes.

I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it. If anyone has feedback, I am open for it. <3

Summary: It takes place in 4x1. That's the summary.

The next fanfic I will post will be a Chenford one and I am currently working on other stuff.

If anyone has requests or ideas what I could write just send it in bc I ran out of ideas.

She stared at the display, unable to look away. She didn’t really want to see what was happening, but she couldn’t just look away, and risk to oversee any detail that could help them. As a cop, she was trained to pay attention.

Next to her stood all the other people. Sergeant Grey, John Nolan, Lucy Chen, Tim Bradford, and of course Nyla Harper. She could see Lucy wiping a tear from her cheek, as well as Nyla. But she… she didn’t feel anything. There was not a single emotion in her.

(Y/N) winced, as she saw a shot being fired on the screen. Fuck. The last glimmer of hope was now gone. Sergeant Grey turned the video back.

“There. He flinched. As if Jackson scratched him or something like that”, he said.

“He knew he wouldn’t have a chance and wanted to give us something to work with. There would be DNA under is fingernails.” Lucy’s voice broke.

“I’ll tell the forensics so they can take a look at it. In the meanwhile, I want you all to go home and take some rest. I’ll let you call when we have some new information.” The Sergeant’s voice wasn’t as authoritarian than usually.

“I want to help. I can’t just sit here and do nothing! It was our colleague who got killed! Our friend! And Angela was kidnapped! We need to find out where La Fiera is!” Lucy felt more than (Y/N). You could hear it because of her breaking voice.

“It was an order, Officer Chen. Go home. Like I said, I’ll have you called in if there is any more information that there is now.”

“With all due respect Sir, but that’s my fiancée and I won’t go home until I know where she is and if the baby is healthy. I won’t go home until my pregnant wife-to-be is home with me again.” (Y/N) had completely forgotten that Wesley was here too. It was just logical; his fiancée was missing and he wouldn’t let them do their job without keeping him updated.

(Y/N) felt tears roll over her cheeks. She had just seen one of her best friends being killed. It didn’t feel real. Like she was only watching a movie and didn’t have any relation to the characters. Why couldn’t she feel more? She wanted to be mad, she wanted to be able to scream, to openly cry, but all she could was feel the silent tears rolling down her face.

She could feel a hand on her shoulder. Tim.

“You should go home. This case isn’t on us. At least not in the moment. Get some rest.”

Tim looked at her with worried eyes. Not really surprising. It was in the middle of the night. Her best friend just died – no, got killed - and she stood in the middle of the police department, crying because she didn’t know what to do. How she could get up in the next days.

“Come on.” She let Tim lead her out the office.

“I… I can’t go home. What if something happens? I… I’ll just stay here. This is the safest place right now.”

Tim looked at her… concerned. He often dealt with this kind of emergency, but Tim had never before dealt with this with his friends. Of course, he has already lost partners in the job but not like this.

“You can come with me. It would also be easier if they call us in to help them with something. Your apartment has a longer way to the department.” (Y/N) stared at him with wide eyes.

“Really? I… I don’t want to impose and you don’t feel too well either I think… your… your best friend just got kidnapped.” She really didn’t want to be an inconvenience. And what would be the looks she would get if anyone found out she stayed at her boss’ house for over the night even though they won’t do anything else that sleeping. In separate rooms.

“You won’t. Are you hungry? We didn’t really eat as the wedding didn’t take place so…?”

“I am hungry but I honestly don’t know if I can keep anything down now.” (Y/N) tried to dry her face from the tears, that finally stopped flowing.

“We can get some take-out and we try to eat and if not, we have the left-overs for tomorrow. Sounds like a plan?” (Y/N) nodded.

“Yes, that’s great. Thank you.” They slowly went to Tim’s car. The blisters the high heels gave her feet were long forgotten. They were her smallest problem right now. Somehow the physical pain even made her feel better.

They only stopped once to get the food. Quickly they decided to take Pizza, something they loved, and could easily be eaten the next day if there were some leftovers.

Tim’s house was… (Y/N) didn’t know what to say. It… fit him. Modern, but not much decoration. She took place at the table, the dress she wore was a bit disturbing.

Shit… She forgot that she doesn’t have any other clothes with her. She only had her dress, and she didn’t really want to sleep in it. It reminded her of all the things that happened today.   

“Ehm… Tim?” He stopped on his way to get 2 plates for the pizza.

“Yes? Is everything ok?” She nodded and then shook her head.

“I don’t have any clothes with me. Do you think we could get some clothes from my place?”

Tim looked at her as if she was crazy. She could somehow understand it. Her house wasn’t exactly next door. They would have to drive at least 30 minutes.  

“You know that it is a long way? Would you be ok if I gave you a shirt of mine and I still have joggers from Angela when she had an argument with Wesley and came here? I know it would be much too big but if you just slept here, I think it would work?” He looked at her with a questioning look and she nodded.

Why not? For now, it seemed like the best solution. Would it be unprofessional? Yes. Would everyone judge her if they saw her? Definitely. But right now, she had bigger problems. Jackson died. Angela got kidnapped. She kind of lost two of her best friends today.

Tim went to, which (Y/N) assumed, was his bedroom. Only a minute later he came back, a bundle of clothes in his arms.

“Here. You can go change in the bathroom. The first door on the left side.” He pointed in the direction he just came from.

“Thank you. Really.” Tim smiled. It was an exhausted but not a forced one.

“No problem at all.”

(Y/N) went to the bathroom. It was definitely more modern than her own. The shower! Wow. She would give everything just to have a hot shower.

“Tim? Could I take a short shower?” Her voice sounded weak. She didn’t have the energy to shout through the whole apartment, she just had to hope that Tim would have heard her.

“Yes. I’ll make the pizza into the oven so it doesn’t get cold, ok?”

“Thanks.”

(Y/N) didn’t remember when the last time was, that she had a proper shower, without having to stress herself because she needed to go to work. Still, she couldn’t enjoy the hot water, that was running over her body.

Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by emotions. The tears began to slow freely. She wasn’t crying as silently as she did before. Now she could only hope that Tim couldn’t hear her. She sank to the floor; the cold tiles on her back welt like ice cubes in contrast to the hot water.

She buried her face in her hands. Her brain finally realized it. Her friend was dead. Angela got kidnapped. They didn’t know what La Fiera was going to do to her. To her unborn baby. Did Angela already know that Jackson got killed?

A gentle knock was on the door.

“Are you ok, (Y/N)?” She tried to wipe away the tears. Stupid; she was in a shower.

“Yes. I’m ok.” She wasn’t and she knew that Tim could hear it. It was embarrassing. Her boss heard her cry. They weren’t even real friends. She tells him much about her life when they were on shift, but he was always a bit… reserved. They were acquaintances but nothing more.

(Y/N) was glad that Tim didn’t pry any further and she continued to sob freely. She heard how the door opened. Tim didn’t just come into the bathroom, did he? Luckily, the steam already covered the glass of the shower so he couldn’t properly see her.

He opened the door to the shower and switched off the shower. He handed her a bathrobe, which she slipped into. It was made out of very soft material. He gently pulled her out of the shower… and hugged her. A real hug. Not a hug like the ones you give when saying hello or goodbye… no… he held her.

(Y/N) didn’t know when it was the last time, she was hugged like that. She cried freely into Tim’s shirt. Right now, she wasn’t embarrassed by it. She didn’t even care about it a little bit. She was just thankful to be held.

After a few minutes, Tim led her to the living room, where he sat her on the couch, giving her a warm blanket he covered her with. Then he just sat down next to her, and continued to hold her. He didn’t say anything; didn’t ask questions. And it was exactly what (Y/N) needed at the moment.

When she finally started to calm down a bit, she wiped away her tears with her hands.

“Thank you, Tim.” Her voice trembled and sounded hoarse. If she still had her Make-up on, her face would have been black from the mascara by now.

“Nothing to thank me. It’s what a friend does.” Tim smiled weakly at her. Friends. He called them friends. She probably wouldn’t say that, but in the moment, she was thankful for it as it made the situation a bit less weird.

“I should probably get changed.” (Y/N) suddenly became aware that she wasn’t wearing anything under the bathrobe.

“Ok. Should I warm up the food? I am really hungry.” Tim looked at er with a questioning look.

“Uhm… yes… that would be great. Again, thank you.” (Y/N) hurried to the bathroom where the clothes Tim led her were still lying on the floor.

Just as she wanted to change into the clothes, Tim called her name.

“Come on we have to go! Grey has new information about Angela!” Instead of changing into the comfortable clothes, she just again slipped into her dress from the evening. Her hair was still wet but it didn’t matter at the moment.

When she stepped into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but notice Tim’s gaze at her. He scratched his neck, something she knew he did when he felt uncomfortable or nervous which has only happened once before.

“Ehm… Your… zipper isn’t properly… closed.”

Fuck! This didn’t just happen. Half of her chest was exposed… How could she not have noticed that before?! She already felt uncomfortable enough in this situation. Why did this have to happen exactly today. (Y/N) felt like she was about to cry.

She tried to close the zipper but it jammed.

“Wait let me do this.” As if the situation couldn’t get more embarrassing now her boss offered to close the zipper of her dress? If it was at least a zipper at the back of the dress but no. Why did she choose that dress today?

While Tim closed the zipper, (Y/N) only stared at the ceiling, unable to look at him.

“Ok. All done. Let’s go.” She ran to the car, as fast as it was possible in high heels. She slumped into the passenger’s seat.

“Here. Drink.” (Y/N) eyed Tim’s hand as he gave her a can of red bull.

“Oh wow. Thanks.” She was lucky he remembered to pack a few energy drinks in the back of the car, as they both were sleep deprived. And she herself was glad she packed her back with make up for the wedding, which was still in it.

She put the light on and put a bit of her make up on, so it wasn’t as obvious as before that she had cried before.

“You really do your make up now? In a driving car? Nobody is going to be interested in how you look. We have bigger problems at the moment.” (Y/N) glared at him.

Tim had been married. Didn’t he know doing make up is important for a woman? She always found it calming to do make up. It was soothing to do the precise work. Not being able to make mistakes especially not in a stressful situation.  

***

Only a few minutes later they arrived at the police department. They hurried to the Sergeant’s office. Nolan, Chen, and Nyla were already there. The only one missing was Wesley.

“Thank you for coming. Wesley’s not here. He is already in Guatemala. Lokks like he had an informer who helped him find La Fiera aka Sandra de la Cruz. We don’t know what’s going to happen. La Fiera is mentally instable especially after what happened to her son. I can’t officially send anyone to Guatemala.” Grey shot them a meaningful look.

“So, we’ll just have to wait what Wesley can do? He doesn’t have anyone there! He is an attorney! He has no chance against Sandra de la Cruz!” Nolan made a point there.

“I said I can’t officially send you there. But if I don’t know what you are going to do, I can’t prevent you from doing whatever you plan to.”

Now it was Tim speaking: “Conference room. Now. Everyone but Grey.”

***

Only an hour later everything was planned. They all were flying to Guatemala. (Y/N) has never been flying with a helicopter before, what makes her really nervous.

Next to her, sat Tim and on the opposite side were Lucy and John sat. Nyla was in the front with the pilot and in the back were two more seats for Angela and Wesley.

(Y/N) drummed her fingers on her thigh, squeezing her eyes shut as the chopper took off. She has changed into her police uniform, as the evening gown wouldn’t have been really practical for a long flight to Guatemala and probably a few shootouts.

She felt a hand on her fingers which where still drumming a rhythm. Tim’s.

“You ok, (Y/L/N)?” He was into full police mode. There wasn’t any space for kind words. They were about to free Angela and maybe even Wesley. If anyone wasn’t concentrated or anxious, they shouldn’t have come with them. It would have been irresponsible.

“I’m fine, Bradford.” Her voice didn’t sound as strong as she hoped, but everyone seemed to buy it for now.

After they finally landed, Harper, Nolan and Bradford were busy preparing the drone, while Lucy and (Y/N) looked around to make sure that they were save for now. They weren’t really near the house, but they didn’t know how careful La Fiera was.

It was already early in the morning. No one has slept in the last 24 hours, but they were so hyped up by adrenaline and energy drinks, that they barely felt how tired they were.

“Have you eaten anything in the last few hours”, asked Lucy at some point.

“A protein bar at the station but I not more. Didn’t have appetite after… after what happened yesterday. And you? Have you even been home?” (Y/N) could see that Lucy was exhausted and that she cried before. Her eyes were red and swollen.

“No. I couldn’t. I told Tamara I needed to do overtime but I don’t think she bought it. I stayed at the department and slept on a chair in the conference room. I just wasn’t able to go home to see Jackson’s stuff lying everywhere in the apartment. Where you at home? You still were in you dress when you came after Grey called you.” Lucy looked at her for a short time but not long as they still had to concentrate on La Fiera’s workers.

(Y/N) shook her head while saying: “I couldn’t go home either. Didn’t want to be alone after what happened. Tim offered me to sleep at his place.”

“Tim? Tim Bradford? Our boss Timothy Bradford?” Lucy looked really surprised but (Y/N) couldn’t blame her. She nodded.

“Yepp. He was really kind. I was very… upset earlier, so I was very thankful.”

Her friend still looked a bit shocked.

“Wow… that’s… strange. But you don’t have… feelings… for him… right?” (Y/N) laughed.

“God, no. I have to admit it had been a bit strange at the beginning but he was really understanding. He even bought pizza which is now probably cold.”

Even though she laughed, she wasn’t sure if the “feelings-theory” was that wrong. Did she have feelings for Tim? She has often questioned that before.

Every time he touched her it felt… special. She felt like her stomach felt full of butterflies. But she can’t have feelings for him, right? He was her boss and Lucy had to break up with Nolan because he had been also a rookie and not even her boss.

Damn it, why does she always have feelings for guys she cannot have. She still knows how it felt seeing Tim on her side when she woke up from surgery after she was involved in a knife attack. He said he didn’t stay in hospital all night, but she knew he was lying as he still wore the same clothes as the day before.

“Ok, the drone is ready”, Lucy and (Y/N) heard over the radio. They ran back to Bradford, Nolan and Harper. The display, that Nyla was holding, showed everything that was to see with the drone’s camera.

“Ok, they put Wesley and Angela in the trucks. It looks like she is in labor. Ok, that’s what we wanted. No. No! They drive them separated! Nolan, (Y/LN). You follow Wesley. Bradford, Chen and I, we follow Lopez to the hospital. Go!”

***

Like they were told, John and (Y/N) followed Wesley. It looked like there was only one person with him, but they couldn’t know for sure.

As (Y/N) and John followed the truck carrying Wesley, the tension in the air was palpable. Every second felt like an eternity as they carefully maintained their distance, making sure not to lose sight of the vehicle but also not to arouse suspicion. The city's neon lights flickered past, casting an eerie glow on the damp streets.

"(Y/N), are you okay?" John asked, his voice steady but concerned.

(Y/N) nodded, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "I'm fine, Nolan. Just... focused."

John glanced at her, noticing the tightness around her eyes. He knew what it felt like to be on edge, especially after a traumatic event. "We're going to get them back. Both Wesley and Angela. We just have to stay sharp."

(Y/N) appreciated his words but couldn't shake the gnawing anxiety in her stomach. She forced herself to stay in the moment, her training kicking in as she scanned the surroundings for any signs of any danger.

The truck turned into an industrial area, and (Y/N) signaled to John. "We need to be ready for anything.”

When they arrived at some kind of farm, the vehicle stopped, the person in the truck stepped out, revealing a silhouette in the bright sunlight. John and (Y/N) exchanged a glance and nodded, both ready to move.

"We need to get closer," (Y/N) whispered as they slipped out of their vehicle and crept towards the warehouse, using the shadows of the trees for cover.

They could see how Wesley got pulled out of the car, a weapon held to the side of his head.

“Faster! I don’t have the time for your games!” Just when Nolan and (Y/N) noticed that the man was about to shoot, they stepped forward.

“Drop the weapon! Now!” Suddenly, a shot rang out, and (Y/N) felt a sharp pain in her side. She gasped, stumbling and clutching her wound as she fell to the ground. John immediately dropped to her side, his eyes wide with fear and determination.

“(Y/N)! Stay with me," John urged, his hands shaking as he applied pressure to her wound. "We need backup! Officer down, officer down!" he called into his radio.

(Y/N)'s vision blurred, but she forced herself to stay conscious. "John... you need to... get Wesley..."

“I know. He is just over there. It’s going to be ok. Just stay with me.

 Back at the hospital, Tim Bradford, Lucy Chen, and Nyla Harper were on high alert, they already found Angela and were on their way to the chopper that should bring them back to LA. Tim's mind was racing, worry etched across his face. He couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his gut, and it only intensified when he heard Nolan’s frantic call over the radio.

"Officer down. (Y/N) has been shot. We need immediate medical assistance!"

Tim's heart skipped a beat. He glanced at Lucy, who looked equally horrified, which wasn’t surprising as (Y/N) was her best friend. Lucy has already lost Jackson, just yesterday, she couldn’t bear to lose (Y/N) now too.

When they all arrived at the chopper, they found John – who already was in the chopper - desperately trying to keep (Y/N) conscious. The sight of her, pale and bleeding, hit Bradford like a train. He rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he took over from John.

"(Y/N), hang on. You're going to be okay," Tim said, his voice cracking. He couldn't hide the emotion in his eyes. "Stay with me."

She looked up at him, her vision fading but her heart swelling at his presence. "Tim... I..."

"Don't talk," Tim interrupted, his voice choked with emotion. "Save your strength. We are on our way to the hospital.”

Thanks to his time in the army, he knew how to handle shooting wounds. He pressed a shirt – he assumed it was Nolan’s – to the wound, wincing as (Y/N) cried out in pain.

“I am so, so sorry.” Tim had never felt something like that when someone got shot. Not even when he was the one shot. He had never felt this much panic. He never had to hold back tears.

Hours later, Tim sat in the waiting room, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He couldn't lose her. Not when he finally understood what she meant to him.

"Any news?" Lucy asked, her voice trembling.

Tim shook his head, unable to speak. They sat in silence, each of them lost in their thoughts, until a doctor finally approached.

"She's stable," the doctor said, and Tim felt a rush of relief so intense it nearly knocked him over. "She lost a lot of blood, but she's going to be okay."

Tim let out a shaky breath. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude.

As they were allowed into her room, Tim sat by (Y/N)'s bedside, holding her hand gently. She looked fragile, but there was a peacefulness to her face that gave him hope.

When her eyes fluttered open, she smiled weakly at him. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," Tim replied, his voice soft. "You scared me."

(Y/N) chuckled weakly. "Sorry about that."

Tim leaned closer; his eyes locked onto hers. "You were trying to tell me something before..."

“It was nothing. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to let me die there”, she whispered. She doesn’t know why she couldn’t just say the truth but this didn’t seem to be the right moment. She had just been shot. What if he assumed she was just high on morphine – which she probably was, but that’s not the point.

The point is, she has feelings for her Sergeant. For her boss. And she doesn’t know if he felt the same. She has doubts. Why would someone like Tim, who doesn’t let any feelings near him, like her? She was just another colleague of his.

“Mhm… ok. I have to go. I am on shift today, but I will come back later. And here, I’ve got you a burger and fries. Thought you don’t want to have the gross hospital food after you were shot and haven’t eaten for 35 hours.” Tim held a paper back towards her.

“Thank you. And wait… I haven’t eaten for 35 hours? That’s a record!” Tim chuckled at (Y/N)’s attempt to lighten the mood.

“See you later.”

***

A bit later, Lucy stepped into the room, what made (Y/N) happy as she has already watched three movies and started to get bored.

"Hey, you," Lucy greeted, her voice warm. "How are you feeling?"

(Y/N) managed a small smile. "I've been better. But I'm alive, thanks to you all."

Lucy pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. "We're just glad you're okay. You really gave us all a scare."

(Y/N) hesitated, then decided to share her burden. If anyone could help her, it was Lucy. "Lucy, can I talk to you about something? Something... kind of… personal?"

Lucy raised an eyebrow, definitely intrigued. "Of course. What's up?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "It's about Tim. I... I think…I have feelings for him. I have for a while, but I don't think I can tell him. I mean, why would he ever feel the same way about me?"

Lucy leaned back, crossing her arms with a smile tugging at her lips “I knew it. It was clear to all of us. Lopey, Harper and I, we even have a bet running when you are going to tell each other. But really, why would you think you're not enough for him?"

(Y/N) looked away, feeling a lump in her throat. "I don't know. He's just... Tim. Strong, dependable, a great leader and so, so confident. And I'm just... me."

Lucy leaned forward; her expression serious now. "Listen, (Y/N). Tim is great, but you're amazing too. You're brave, dedicated, and you've got a heart of gold. And you are so damn strong. You have just survived a shooting. If Tim doesn't see that, then he's blind. But honestly, from what I've seen, I think he does see it."

(Y/N) felt a flicker of hope but still wasn't convinced. "But what if I'm wrong? What if it ruins everything?"

“That’s the risk you’d have to take. But I really doubt it. How he looks at you? How worried he was when he heard you got shot? He even stayed in the uncomfortable hospital waiting room all night as he refused to go home in case something happened! He told Harper to get you the burger and fries in your favorite shop and was about to kill her when she wanted to go to a different one!”

(Y/N) looked at her best friend with wide eyes.

“Are you being serious?” Lucy nodded.

“I wouldn’t say that if I wasn’t.” (Y/N) looked away, tears welling up in her eyes.

Lucy sighed, reaching out to gently turn (Y/N)’s face back toward her. "Listen to me. Life is too short to hold back your feelings. If you care about him, he deserves to know. And you deserve to be happy."

(Y/N) sniffled, a small smile breaking through her fear. "But how? When? I can't just blurt it out."

They both chuckled at the thought of her randomly telling Tim she likes him.

“Maybe you tell him when you get discharged from hospital. I am sure he is going to be there because he worries about you and wants to make sure you are ok. He even volunteered to drive you to your apartment and make sure you are comfortable with staying at home without anyone”, Lucy said.

“Ok. That sounds like a plan. Thank you.” Lucy squeezed her hand and smiled at her.

“That’s what friends are for.”

***

Finally, the day of her discharge came, and (Y/N) has thought about this moment a lot. How would she tell Tim? Where? When they are still driving to her apartment or should she invite him into her apartment to talk to him? She has never been the one to tell the other person she’s in love with them.

Tim entered her hospital room, where she sat on her bed, wearing joggers and a wide shirt. She knew she didn’t look her best, but if Tim expected something different, only 5 days after she had been shot, he would be stupid.

“Hey. Are you ready to go home?” Tim stepped into the room, smiling softly at her. Had Lucy been right? Did he really feel the same for her as she did for him? He wasn’t the mean, strong man in this moment. He looked… she didn’t even know how to say it… softer than usually?

“More than ready. 5 days in a hospital without proper Wi-Fi is definitely too long.” Tim chuckled.

“Ok, come on. Can you walk on your own?” (Y/N) nodded even though she wasn’t so sure. Yes, the meds they gave her are good, but not as good as she didn’t feel the pain in her abdomen where the bullet hit her spleen.

She slowly got up from bed, trying not to wince because of the pain she felt.

“Let me help you.” (Y/N) didn’t even react before she felt Tims arm around her, helping her to stay upright.

Somehow, they managed to go to the car, and (Y/N) took a deep breath when she finally sat in the comfortable passenger seat of Tim’s car.

“Are you sure you are alright being home again? Without help? You didn’t even manage to go to the car properly.“

(Y/N) waved him off.

“I am going to be ok. The meds only start to wear off but it is going to be better once I have taken the new painkillers they gave me.”

“Mhm…”

While they drove, it was quite silent. (Y/N) thought about how to tell Tim how she felt about him, because she still wasn’t sure how to break the news.

The car came to a gentle stop in front of her apartment building. Tim turned off the engine and looked over at her. "You sure you're ready for this? I can stay for a bit if you need help getting settled."

(Y/N) nodded, taking a deep breath. "Actually, Tim, I was hoping you would come in for a bit. There's something I need to talk to you about."

Tim's brow furrowed with curiosity, but he nodded and got out of the car, helping her carefully navigate her way to her apartment. Once inside, she guided him to the living room, the familiarity of the space giving her comfort.

"Sit down, please," (Y/N) said, her voice sounded higher than usually. She motioned to the couch, and Tim obliged, his eyes never leaving hers.

"What's on your mind?" Tim asked, his tone gentle but also worried. And maybe a bit panicked?

(Y/N) took a seat beside him, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. "Tim, I... I need to tell you something kind of really important. It's been on my mind for a while now, and after everything that has happened, I just can't keep it to myself for longer."

Tim leaned forward, his full attention on her. "You can tell me anything. You know that."

She took a deep breath, her heart racing. "Tim, I... I think I have feelings for you. I know it's probably not appropriate, and I know you're my boss, but I can't help it. I care about you, more than just as a colleague or a friend."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, (Y/N) feared the worst. Tim's expression was unreadable, and she braced herself for rejection.

But then Tim reached out, taking her hand in his. His touch was warm, reassuring. "I don't know what to say," he began, his voice soft. "Except that I feel the same way. I have felt like this for quite a while now. I care about you a lot, and it scared me to think I might lose you when you got shot and laid there."

(Y/N)'s eyes filled with tears, a mixture of relief and overwhelming emotion. "Really? I was so scared you wouldn't feel the same."

Tim smiled; a rare, genuine smile that even made her heart skip a beat. "It was hard to admit, even to myself. But seeing you hurt, thinking about what could have happened... it made me realize how much you mean to me."

There was an awkward silence for a moment, both of them processing the magnitude of what they had just confessed. Then, Tim chuckled softly. "I guess we're both pretty bad at this, huh?"

(Y/N) laughed, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Yeah, I guess we are. But I'm glad we finally talked about it."

“Me too.” Tim swiped his thumb over the back of (Y/N)’s hand, which he still had in his own.

“Tim? Is… is it ok if I kiss you?” Instead of an answer, Tim leaned into her direction, and kissed her like she never had been kissed before.

In this moment she knew that she loved this man. He has always been there for her. He was the person she talked about everything that happened in her life.

When Tim let go of her again, (Y/N) opened her mouth to say something.

“Was everything… with us… why you have always reacted so jealous and… tight… when I talked about my last boyfriends?”

Tim looked at her, his lips swollen from their kiss.

“Maybe… but I wouldn’t have wanted it differently. I loved listening to everything that happened in your life. And you always smiled so sweet when you talked about everything. I loved listening to you. I still have the records of when you recorded my books I had to learn for the sergeant test. Thank you.”

 “What are you thanking me for?” (Y/N) looked at Tim confused.

“For being you. For making me laugh. For trusting me. Simply for everything. But I believe we aren’t allowed to work together from now on.”

“What if we didn’t tell anyone we are a couple?” Tim raised his brow at the question, before shrugging.

“I think that could work too.”  

[notapradagurl7]

Keep A Distance.

Pairings: Black Fem! Cop!Reader x Armando Aretas.

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe.

Summary: You were a cop working on the runaway Armando Aretas case, alongside Mike and Marcus but decided to go solo by working undercover.

Taglist: @lovedlover @planetblaque @megamindsecretlair @westside-rot @keyera-jackson @browngirldominion @swavydadon @playgurlxoxo @nerdieforpedro

Warnings: PWP, doesn't follow the film’s timeline, profanity, mention of guns, mention of violence, erotic asphyxiation/choking, Armando being persistent to the reader, dacryphila, consensual for both parties, short fic.

————

The light from the computer illuminated on your brown skin with your hand resting on the mouse, clicking on the file on the desktop with the picture of vibrant roses. Opening the file, your eyes scan the information and criminal records.

All that work just to lose him out of your sight again.

“Armando Aretas is still on the loose after taking control of the Aretas cartel when his mother was tragically burned in a fire.” the reporter spoke up.

You sighed and shook your head in disapproval, you pushed the power button on the remote, turning off the television, there was no way to catch this guy after playing this game of cat and mouse. Your finger pressed the power button and watched the computer fade to black.

You were working for the Miami Police Department as a cop, moving your way to a respected and it was every man and woman looking out for themselves.

It was a shame that you had to endure the shit from men and women in the police department.

Standing up from the desk, you walked out of your office. You approached the main office with determination.

Marcus and Mike stood by each other, you gave them fist bumps while "What's the latest, detective?" Mike asked, leaning against the desk with a smirk.

"Same old, same old. Aretas is still slipping through our fingers," you replied, crossing your arms. "I think it’s time I take matters into my own hands."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? You know this guys plays fucking dirty."

“Yeah, well, dirty is my middle name,” you shot back, the fire in your belly igniting.

“Just keep your head on straight, alright?” Marcus warned, his tone serious. “We can’t afford to lose you too.”

You shrugged off their concern. “I appreciate it, but I’m not going in blind. I have a plan.”

“Which involves what? Seducing him?” Mike chuckled, but you noticed a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Something like that,” you replied, your smile a little too sly. “I’ll get close enough to gather intel; I won’t get too comfortable.”

“Uh-huh,” Marcus said, not buying it. “And what makes you think he won’t be the one to get too comfortable?”

Mike knew that you could take care of yourself but Armando was his son, he had Mike’s genes running through him. Once Mike called Armando the fucked up version of himself.

“Because I know how to keep a distance,” you replied, your voice steady.

“Just remember, he’s not some petty thief. He’s dangerous, Armando is Mike’s son” Marcus reiterated.

“I can handle myself,” you asserted, turning on your heel. “I’ve got this.”

As you stepped out of the precinct, the Miami heat hit you like a wall. You pulled your box braids into a tight bun, adjusting your badge before heading to your car. You knew you had to find Armando's weaknesses, and if it meant playing the role of an alluring enigma, then so be it.

Later that night, you found yourself at a dimly-lit bar, the kind where the shadows danced as much as the patrons. You leaned against the bar, scanning the room. The air was thick with tension as a mix of laughter and whispered conversations filled the space.

“Can I get you something?” the bartender asked, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Whiskey, neat,” you replied, your gaze still fixed on the entrance.

Moments later, the door swung open, and in walked Armando Aretas. He was a silhouette of charm and danger, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Your heart raced as he scanned the crowd, his eyes landing on you.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, sliding onto the barstool next to you, his voice smooth like velvet.

“Depends on who’s asking,” you replied, your tone playful yet guarded.

“Armando,” he said, extending his hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

“[Your Name],” you introduced yourself, shaking his hand firmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” he smirked, leaning in closer, the intoxicating scent of his cologne wrapping around you.

“Depends on your definition of good,” you shot back, your pulse quickening.

He chuckled softly, clearly intrigued. “You’re not like the others…I like that.”

“Keep your distance, Aretas,” you warned, your voice low and steady, but the chemistry between you was undeniable.

“Why would I do that when I’m enjoying this conversation?” he replied, his gaze piercing through you.

“Because this isn’t a game you want to play,” you said, your heart racing at the thrill of the chase.

“Oh, I think it is. And I always win,” he whispered, his voice dripping with confidence.

“So I heard that you're looking for me, Detective [Last Name]” he smirked, eyeing you up and down. His eyes remained on your ass.

You swatted his hand out of the way, and narrowed your gaze. “My eyes are up here, you're gonna come in with me. I'll arrest you and this case will be over..”

Armando smirked at you, snatching your gun that was attached to your belt. Your fist connects with his cheek as blood spills from his chin, he spits it out on the floor.

“I guess it's not over yet..” He smirked, stepping closer to you.

You were supposed to leave, you wanted to cuff him and take him into your car. But you couldn't, the heat between your thighs made you stifle a moan.

“Was all this chasing after you, a trick to get me all to yourself Armando?” you asked seductively, smirking.

Armando's eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Maybe it was, detective. Maybe I wanted to see just how far you'd go to catch me." His hand trailed down your arm, sending shivers down your spine.

You fought against the growing heat in your body, reminding yourself of the mission at hand. But the magnetic pull between you and Armando was undeniable. The danger only added to the thrill, fueling the fire that burned between you.

As his lips brushed against your neck, your resolve wavered. "We can't do this," you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

Armando chuckled darkly, his hand on your waist. Pulling your face closer to his, when he wanted something or someone, a desideratum for him.

He only did this just to get closer to you, he planned everything just to see your pretty face again. The

But this mission left you fuddled and to save face, you kept your cool instead of admitting it. Did he want you?

"Who says we can't mix business with pleasure, detective?" His words sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a hunger you couldn't deny.

In a haze of desire and adrenaline, you found yourself giving in to the temptation. Crashing his lips into yours, tongues turned in sync. You moaned in the kiss, and he led you to the car.

Next thing you know, you were under him on his bed and kissing him sloppily. Both of your clothes were littered across the bedroom floor, the soft smack of your lips colliding with his filled the room.

His naked body against yours from the front with glossy sweat, his hips thrusting into you without mercy, as if it was a vindictive yet almost loving type of fuck. His tongue glided across your neck, wanting to leave hickeys on you.

The moonlight peeked through the curtains, and shone on your brown skin. Your brown braids pool around your pretty face, your mouth agape only to let out loud drunk moans and slurred screams.

There you were, fucking your enemy in the dark. Thankful that he couldn't see your face twist up in pleasure, “I bet you look so pretty taking every inch of my dick mami..like a good slut,” he praised, cutting himself off with a raspy moan.

Your hand rested on the back of his neck, bringing him for another sloppy kiss. Leaving a chain of spit between your lips and his, “That dick is so good…” you mumbled, your head fell to the pillow.

Your slick pussy gripped around his dick tight, feeling his inch after inch.

“Oh..fuck! Armando!” You cried out, your vision blurred with tears rolling down your watery cheeks. Teeth trapped under your lips only to be sucked off by Armando, moaning muffled with each kiss. Your tears turned him on quickly.

His head ducked and halted between your titties, wrapping his warm mouth around your nipple. Thighs smacking against your ass, the sound similar to clapping, wetness enveloped his thick dick entirely, Suckling it roughly while pinching your left nipple, “Fuckk! M-more,” you croaked.

Balling your hand in the blanket you turned into a wet, blubbering mess underneath the male. “I’m yours now? So fucking wet..” he grunted deeply, you whimperrd in response. His hand wrapped around your neck, bringing you in for a quick kiss to your lips.

“You’re mine papi, all mine..” you moaned loudly, drooling trickling at the corner of your lip. Unable to speak from the pleasure.

This was better than you imagined, your guts being rearranged by the man you loathed so much but he was here with you. His hand smacked across your ass, you whined lowly. “Fuck!”

“Being inside you is a dream true, suck a good girl..” he groaned, rutting against you without mercy.

Your climax hit you rapidly like a tsunami crashing through without warming, your sticky essence gushed down on his dick and you screamed loudly, falling on the blanket.

He followed suit by pulling out of you, falling beside your body and kissing your shoulder. You panted heavily through it.

“T-this can't happen again..” you murmured raspily, shaking your head. trying to confess to yourself that this was a one-time thing.

Armando hummed lightly with a soft chuckle, “Are you sure about that? You did say that I'm yours..” he panted lowly.

You almost dozed off until he gently picked you up bridal style, carrying you into the bathroom as he flipped the light switch. He turned the faucet, you heard the squeak.

Filling the tub with foam soap, at the right temperature, You were placed in the tub, allowing the water to soothe the ache in your body and pussy, sighing blissfully. You watched him walk into the shower and proceed to wash himself clean.

You washed yourself clean from the weight of the day, you fell asleep in his bed with him. Beside his body, dressed in your clean panties and gray tee shirt.

As the sun began to rise, casting golden hues through the window, you made a silent vow to yourself. You left quickly with everything you had, keeping this a secret.

You had to keep a distance, but the memory of that night with Armando would linger, a dangerous secret that bound you together in ways you never thought possible.

The next day, you returned home and sat in your desk chair in front of your computer. Quiet as a church mouse, which made everyone worry about. It wasn't normal for you to be quiet from their perspective.

Marcus and Mike knocked on your door, the sound tore your attention from the computer. You jumped from the sound, placing a hand on your chest.

“Come in!” you called out, seeing the pair through the office window.

They stepped inside, concern etched on their faces. Mike leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, while Marcus took a seat in the chair opposite you.

“Hey, you alright?” Mike asked, his tone softer than usual. “You’ve been unusually quiet since yesterday.”

You flashed a tight smile, the memory of last night flooding your mind. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing you. “A lot, huh? Or should we be concerned about that ‘solo mission’ you took on?”

You shrugged, keeping your expression neutral. “It was just a quick check-in. Nothing major.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “You guys know I can handle myself. I’m not a rookie.”

“True, but it’s not just about handling yourself,” Marcus interjected, his voice serious. “It’s about the risks involved. Armando Aretas is dangerous.”

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms defensively. “He got away.”

“He did?” Mike asked you, raising a brow.

“Yeah, he was too fast and strong.” you added softly, looking up at the ceiling.

“Well, guess this case is closed huh?” Marcus asked, pursing his lips.

You nodded your head slowly, “Yes, and let’s just get to normal. What’s the melody to Bad Boys song? Bad boys, Bad Bo—” you sang playfully until Mike and Marcus interjected.

“Hey, hey, hey get your own theme song and learn the lyrics!” Macurs joked, his face twisted up a bit with a chuckle.

“Yeah, that's our theme song, but you did amazing on this case..” Mike added with a chuckle, smiling at you.

“My bad, thanks for believing in me guys..” you replied with a warm tone.

You gave the men fist bumps, watching them walk out of your office. Feeling a wave of relief wash over you, so much for keeping a secret. But it was over and you couldn't see him.

You could afford to blur the lines between business and pleasure, mixing them together was bad enough. You were done, now back to business only.

——————

Part Two.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Phillip Jackson at HuffPost:

Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.) introduced a bill Wednesday that would give federal and state officials more power to hold police departments accused of bad behavior to account. The Enhancing Oversight to End Discrimination in Policing Act, led by Warren and in the House by Rep. Marilyn Strickland (D-Wash.), would strengthen the power of state attorneys general to launch investigations into police departments involved in civil rights violations if the Justice Department fails to act on them. The bill would also task the Justice Department with looking beyond “traditional law enforcement mechanisms” when providing reforms to selective police departments such as mental health support, civilian oversight bodies, and community-based restorative justice programs, according to Warren’s office.

Warren had introduced a version of the bill in 2020. This newest version of the measure would also revitalize the Department of Justice’s Civil Rights Division, granting an increase in funding to pursue civil rights investigations into police departments and other government offices accused of discriminatory practices. It would increase funding for the civil rights division to $445 million per year over a 10-year period. (For scale, the 2023 budget for the division was $189.9 million.)

Warren first introduced her bill following the death of George Floyd in 2020. That earlier draft also called for Attorney General Merrick Garland to rescind a 2017 memorandum from his predecessor, Trump-era Attorney General Jeff Sessions, that limited the DOJ’s ability to initiate consent decrees on police departments — a key way of stopping bad behavior. (Garland rescinded that memorandum in April of 2021.)

Nine senators co-sponsored the bill: Cory Booker (D-N.J.), Ed Markey (D-Mass.), Jeff Merkley (D-Ore.), Peter Welch (D-Vt.), Ron Wyden (D-Ore.), Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.), Chris Van Hollen (D-Md.), Tammy Duckworth (D-Ill.), and Mazie Hirono (D-Hawaii). Several civil rights organizations are backing Warren’s new bill, including the American Civil Liberties Union, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the National Urban League and others.

Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-MA) and 9 other co-sponsors in the Senate are supporting the Enhancing Oversight to End Discrimination in Policing Act to strengthen police accountability. Rep. Marilyn Strickland (D-WA) is pushing this in the House.

[nuclerpotato707]

If you don't think that the ENTIRE mid Wilshire police department didn't have a betting pool on when chenford would happen, then you are WRONG, and guess who won? Jackson.

[todaysdocument]

Statement of Afro-American Patrolmen's League

Record Group 21: Records of District Courts of the United StatesSeries: Civil Case FilesFile Unit: Renault Robinson and the Afro American Patrolmen's League v. James B. Conlisk, et al.

Confidential

[illegible] -24715

For Immediate Release

September 10, 1969

The Afro-American Patrolmen's League has sought a meeting with the Superintendent of Chicago's Ploice Department, James Conlisk, regarding the explosive situation in the Black Community that has reached a critical point. This explosive situation has been developed by the current demands of Blacks to confront a construction industry that has systematically discriminated against hiring of Blacks. The demands are not simply for jobs but for the right to control the hitherto sinister pattern of hiring in the construction trades. If Blacks cannot participate in the construction of their own communities, who shall?

Recent events in Chicago hace amplified the prophecy of the Kerner Report: "We are rapidly drifting into two societies, one Black and one White". The arrest of Rev. Jesse Jackson has, of course, raised grave concern in the Black Community. We, as Black policemen, are attempting to humanize and bridge the gap between the two drifting societies. We want to build a new world with a foundation based on Social Justice as stated in our Declaration of Independence: "All men are created equal and are endowed with certain inalienable rights, among whom are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."

For a Policeman to state, "We are only doing our job" is to quite Adolph Eichmann when he defended the extermination of 10 million people. At this critical point in history we Black Policemen are standing up to be counted. People who are denied the right to build their own destinies have few options. In order to survive they must either struggle or surrender.

The Black Community will struggle for the right to construct buildings in Chicago. In struggle the potential for violence escalates. The need for a fair, just and impartial Police Department becomes paramount. We members of the Afro-American Patrolmen's League will continue to work towards that goal. We will no longer allow ourselves to be used as the oppressors of this Black Community in which we live. We will become its protectors.

In our Police Department there are few Black men who are in command positions. The racism of the Construction industry must not be perpetuated by the racism of the Police Department. To be legitimate the Police Department must represent all the people--Blace as well as White. As Rev. Jesse Jackson lies in a sick bed at the House of Correction and as the tension of this city increases, we Black Policemen join with all people of good will to make Dr. Marin Luther King's statement a reality: "Free at last, Free at least, Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

[rafaelsilvasource]

Co-showrunner Rashad Raisani provides an exclusive preview of Rafael Silva and Jackson Pace's futures on the Fox drama.

It's been 15 months since the season 4 finale of 9-1-1: Lone Star, and it appears a lot has happened in the world of the 126.

First-look photos exclusive to Entertainment Weekly show that Carlos (Rafael Silva) has graduated from the Austin Police Department to the Texas Rangers, following in his late father Gabriel's footsteps. "Carlos has this giant mystery in his life of who killed his dad, and that's not just going to be a procedural story. It's an emotional one," executive producer and co-showrunner Rashad Raisani tells EW of Carlos working with the same elite law enforcement team his dad previously did.

Raisani says he and co-creator and co-showrunner Tim Minear always knew Carlos was meant for bigger things than being a beat cop: "Even as far back as season 1, we talked a lot about putting Carlos on the path of being an APD detective. But then, as his storyline of his relationship with his father started to develop and we started to explore the complicated history of the Texas Rangers.... In a weird way it really reflected Carlos' own history with his dad: That his dad was someone he'd seen as oppressive and not accepting, and then as their relationship progressed that changed. We thought what Gabriel represented is the transformation of where we hope the Texas Rangers are going — and who epitomizes that better than Carlos."

[mimi-0007]

The family of Dexter Wade is calling for justice after the 37-year-old man was allegedly fatally struck by a Jackson, Mississippi Police Department cruiser in March and later buried in a potter's field without his family knowing.

[augustvandyne]

5 times she almost she almost confesses, and the one time she actually does. ( Lucy Chen x firefighter!reader.)

been in the works for a long time.. i apologize

it has been a while but i’ve been struggling (still kinda am) but im trying to work on myself and i have more time to write now!!

1.

The first time she almost says it, it’s mainly as a joke, but she’s cut off by you.

It was only the third or fourth time she’d met you, but she thought you were gorgeous and she would’ve sold her soul to go out with you.

On a random Tuesday, her and Officer Bradford responded to a distress call that happened to involve a house fire. Which was why you and your station were later called.

You’d had run-ins involving Tim Bradford and his rookies in the past, so you weren’t completely struck by this form of ‘teaching,’ but you were still surprised.

When you arrived on the scene Officer Bradford was telling Lucy she should help out since they were the only ones available in the moment, and you all but yelled out for Lucy not to do that.

“Officer.. Bradford!” Bailey shook her head in disapproval. “You should never enter a burning house without the correct equipment.”

“We were busy waiting. For you,” Tim leaned forward angrily, and that was when you entered the house, so you didn’t hear the end of the conversation. But you would bet good money that Bailey won that argument.

You moved through the house along with a few other firefighters, and that was when you found Lucy in the kitchen, all but coughing her lung out.

“Officer Chen,” You took one of her hands and placed the other on her back so you could help her out of the house and off the counter she was leaning on.

She leaned most of her weight on you, because she was weak from smoke inhalation, but you eventually picked her up to get her out.

You sat her on the back of the ambulance, and started checking her out since you had some paramedic training under your belt, and the other paramedics were checking on the more serious injuries.

“You okay?” You immediately put a gas mask over her face so she could breathe.

She tried to remove the mask to speak, but you shook your head and said, “Don’t talk. Just nod yes or no.”

She gave you a nod to let you know she’s okay.

Officer Bradford appeared in front of the two of you, but you shake your head at him.

“Uh-uh,” You pursed your lips and stepped in front of him. “I think you should go elsewhere. After the stunt you just pulled, you ought to be put on probation, but it’s not up to me.”

“I—“ Tim stood there with his mouth open, like you could stand there and talk to him like that.

“So you can take yourself back over there to the rest of your cop buddies, while I clear Officer Chen for duty,” You stood, one hand on the mask and one hand on your hip.

Tim clears his throat, “I’ll wait over there.”

“I thought so,” You nodded and watched him walk back over to the police cars.

Lucy let out an exasperated laugh, “Thank you. I needed that. I may regret it tomorrow, but, he deserves it.” Lucy pauses. “I literally lo—“

“It was no problem, really, I see he’s a bit stuck up. Someone had to put him in his place,” You cut her off, not even realizing she was trying to speak until after. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“Huh?” Lucy thought it would be best if she acted like she wasn’t saying anything. “Oh, nothing.”

“Okay,” You nodded. “You’re okay to go, but take your time. Make sure if you’re out of breath at any time, that you take a second to rest. My orders.”

“You got it,” Lucy stuck her thumb up with a smile.

“Bye, Officer Chen.”

2.

The missile attack took everyone by surprise, even you.

The Los Angeles Fire Department worked to help with damage control and to help maintain traffic on the freeway and along the streets.

It didn’t work very well, but it made you feel better to do that than to just sit around while the world ended.

Angela and Jackson eventually told you to just give it up because nothing was going to help if the world was really going to end in less than an hour.

You fought against her, but she told you and Bailey you should go find Tim and Lucy and find shelter, as they weren’t answering the radios.

Bailey grabbed your arm softly and pulled you away, because she knew about your small but growing crush on the woman, and she knew how worried you were, even if you pushed it down.

Angela told you their last known location, and that’s where you found them, drinking their worries away.

“Officer Chen,” You nodded with a small smile on your face — although it was fake, it was nice of you to try.

“Y/n,” Lucy’s eyes softened at another familiar face.

You look to Tim, and even though you weren’t his biggest fan, you greeted him with a pat on the shoulder. There was no need to keep enemies if you were about to die together.

“What are we drinking?” Bailey asked nervously.

“Tequila and Scotch,” Lucy tried handing the tequila to Bailey, but she shook her head.

“I’m not a tequila girl.. wine, and I can get down with.”

You chuckle lightly as you watch Bailey wander off to find a bottle of red wine, and take the bottle from Lucy. Your hands brushing in the process.

“I think I love you,” Lucy stumbled over her words slightly, and you just let out a breathy laugh.

“That’s very sweet, Officer Chen,” You kept your eyes on her as you took a sip from the bottle.

“The world is gonna end, so I thought I’d tell you,” Lucy shrugged jokingly, but deep down inside (and later in the months) she wasn’t really joking.

When it was all over, you found yourself sort of wishing she’d meant it, but you’ve only seen her a few times, and you barely even knew her favorite color. Not to mention she’d never even asked you on a date.

3.

You were very surprised when Lucy had asked you to be her date to Officer Angela Lopez’s wedding, but you reluctantly agreed to go.

The two of you had swapped numbers after the false missile attack, and she texted you like crazy.

Not that you’d ever complain, because the pictures of puppies and random selfies throughout the day was something you came to look forward to.

It’s months later, though, and you’re glad Lucy asked you out (kind of), finally!

You lived with Bailey, as she was your best friend, and the two of you decided to get ready together since John Nolan had asked her to come along as well.

You wore a lighter blue dress that had just been sitting in the back of your closet for months. It was a spaghetti strap, and it flowed along your body nicely with a slit up your leg.

You bought it for another occasion, but never ended up using it, so you just pushed it in the back, thinking you’d never have another need for it. But Bailey found it and convinced you this was exactly what you needed to wear to impress Lucy.

And she was right.

You’d pay good money to relive Lucy’s reaction to your dress over and over.

She had no shame in looking you up and down, which was good, because you had no shame in doing it to her, either.

The both of you looked away with a small blush on each of your faces from being ogled. That is, until Jackson pushed Lucy towards you.

“I’m going to go check on Angela,” Jackson removes his hand from Lucy’s back, and the two of you nod, but you aren’t really looking at him — more at each other.

“You look.. gorgeous,” You shook your head, amazed.

“You do too,” Lucy scoffed slightly. “If there was a competition, I think you’d win with flying colors.”

“Have you seen yourself?” You continued to ogle her.

You grab her hand softly, and lift your arms above the two of you so you can spin her around, her dress flowing freely with her.

“Oo, you’ve got moves,” Lucy laughed as you spun her back towards you.

“Yes, I do,” You lifted your brows jokingly. “We’ll have to dance together later.”

“Why not now?” Lucy whined. “We could just dance right here, right now. I don’t care who sees. Please?”

“Fine,” A small smile graces your lips. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

You timidly place a hand on Lucy’s back, because this was new territory, and you didn’t want to overstep. And you place your other hand in hers.

The two of you slow dance to a song that doesn’t even match your rhythm, and neither of you care.

Lucy spins you this time with a giggle, and your all but fall into her arms on your way back in. But you’re especially struck when she dips you without warning.

“I have moves?” You question with a huge grin on your face. “Look at you, Miss. Chen!”

She slowly lifts you back up and you are about to kiss her when a bunch of people start crowding around you.

“Lucy,” John is the first to speak, and with a shake to his head, Lucy removes herself from you.

“What?” Lucy’s smile is gone, and she’s given sympathetic looks. “Someone tell me what’s wrong. Now.”

Tim steps forward anxiously and whispers something in her ear, and you only catch parts of it.

Lucy looks like her hearts been ripped out of her chest over and over again, “O— oh. What— who did this?”

You lean forward and grab her in your arms, because all you heard was “Jackson and Lopez,” and “Missing.”

“Lucy,” Grey says in a plain voice, but there’s so much behind it, and Lucy pulls herself together.

“I have to—“

“Of course,” You held onto her hands, pulling her in for a small kiss on the cheek. “Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Yes,” Lucy nods. “I lov— erally can’t thank you enough.”

You shake your head trying to figure out what she just said, but then Bailey is beside you and the two of you are following closely behind them to exit the venue.

4.

You hadn’t heard much from Lucy in the span of a few weeks, and you were starting to worry.

Especially because Lucy was an over the top texter, and she hadn’t so much as sent one message a day. More like two in a week.

She was coping the loss of her best friend, you knew that, but it didn’t stop you from worrying.

You wanted to bake her some cookies and put together a small basket like she had when you were sick a month or two ago.

Bailey offered to come along, but you told her not to worry. Not because this was something you wanted to do on your own, but because she’d been off and on with Officer John Nolan, and you couldn’t stand to be put in more than one awkward interaction today.

Once the basket was put together (you had to have Bailey help you wrap it up and put the bow on, but that’s beside the point) you left and made your way to the station.

“Is Bailey with you?” John perked up from the front desk upon your arrival, but he was quickly put back down after not seeing her.

“Not this time,” You shrugged apologetically. “I’m looking for Lucy. Is she in?”

He eyes the basket up and down, “She might be in the break room for her lunch.”

“Has she eaten?” You knew it was a long shot asking him, because he’d probably been out there all morning, but it was worth it to try.

“If I guessed, I’d say no,” He shook his head.

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek, “I’ll just have to force feed her some of these cookies.”

“Sounds good,” John chuckled as you walked through the station, finding Lucy sitting where John said she might be. No food in sight.

“Y/n,” Lucy gives a slight smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Hey,” You placed the huge basket on the table and Lucy’s eyes are drawn to it.

“You didn’t..” Lucy frowned slightly. “You really didn’t.. have to.”

Lucy’s lips started to quiver, and you were quick to hug her tightly. You hadn’t seen her since the wedding, and obviously hadn’t spoken much either, so you were walking in blind today. No clue how she was holding up.

“Shh,” You let her cry into your chest, rubbing her back reassuringly. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay.”

Smitty begins to walk in, head hung as he looks at his phone. He looks up with a startled expression, “Oh— uh, Chen..”

“Get out!” Lucy cried into your arms, and you just chuckled at the interaction.

Smitty stood still, unsure what to do, “I think it’s best if you go..” The two of you stood awkwardly, just staring at each other. “Hello? Move.”

He swallowed and nodded his head, shutting the door on his way out.

“I lo—“ Lucy stutters and you just nod your head.

“I know. Shhh, I know,” You place a small kiss on her head. “It’s okay.”

5.

Responding to a quiet call in what looked to be an abandoned house was just what you needed today. Until it wasn’t.

You’d disappeared through a hallway because Bailey said she had the foyer, but she didn’t.

When you came back, she was trapped in what looked to be a trap of some kind — and you could only assume it had to do with Rosalind Dyer.

You and your group quickly called the LAPD, and soon enough, your girlfriend of two months walked in. You’d now known each other for a year and some.

“Y/n,” She hugged you quickly, placing her forehead to yours. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Gee, thanks,” Bailey said sarcastically from below.

“I don’t think I could handle it if it were me down there,” You say truthfully. “You’re smart, and you’ll know what to do, Bails.”

“It was designed for me,” Bailey quickly observes the tank.

Your heart drops and breaks in your chest for your best friend, and you’re so scared you feel as though you may have a panic attack.

You feel Lucy shift closer to you, her lingering touches bringing you comfort.

A sympathetic smile sets on her lips, a quirk in her eyebrow to ask if you were okay. You give a nod in response.

Things escalate quickly after that. John disappears, Bailey comes close to death, it’s a whole mess. And you’re struggling to breathe because you can’t lose your best friend tonight. It just couldn’t happen.

As Celina encourages Bailey to stay under the water longer when the explosions happen, you’re standing off to the side, a hand held to your mouth to hold the vomit in.

Lucy stands from her crouch, a gentle hand coming to your back to soothe your anxiety.

The bile lowers, and you attempt to speak, but she beats you to it.

“I l—“

For once you think you understand what she’s trying to say, and the swallow that contracts her throat says it all for her. You knew, and you reciprocated, but now wasn’t the time. There was too much going on all at once and you couldn’t accept the words here— not like this.

A slight nod from you and Lucy’s eyes changed.

“She’s going to be okay,” It was an empty promise, both of you knew, but she was trying to convince the both of you. “Come here.”

She wraps you in her arms and for once you feel safe.

+1

When she actually says I love you, you were in the hospital.

It was a fire rescue gone wrong, and you were in critical condition.

When Lucy got word she dropped everything and hurried to the hospital. Not even caring about Tim’s insistence on letting him drive her.

She broke twenty different laws on the way there, but the only thing she was worried about was getting to you.

A small smile formed on your lips when you heard her shouts — actual shouts — at the nurse to let her see you. You even think she flashed her badge, and if you weren’t in so much pain you’d laugh.

She does finally appear at your door, her pleads finally working, and you’re more than happy to see her.

She timidly sits on your bedside, afraid she’s going to hurt you from three feet away.

“Lucy..” You try to talk, but it pains you to even do that, and Lucy can tell.

“Don’t talk,” She reaches her hand out but draws it back at the last second because the last thing she wasn’t to do is make you uncomfortable. “Let me speak.”

You scrunch your eyebrows together in concern, because what did she have to say?

“I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t—“

“What did I say?” Lucy attempts to be stern, but it just makes you smile. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

Your lips wobble and she hates to see you like this.

“Bailey told me you had been rushed to the hospital. I’m so glad she did because I love you and I absolutely cannot lose you—“

Her eyes widen when she realizes what she’s said, her hand shooting to her mouth in shock.

“I.. I—“

“Lu—“

“Should I go? I should probably go, right?” Lucy nods nervously. “Or— just forget I said anything at all.”

“Lucy, I love you too.”

Your words catch her off guard, and suddenly the frown on her face is turned into a wide smile.

“You do?” She breathless.

“Of course I do. How couldn’t I?”

[svalleynow]

Scottsboro Man Shot and Killed

On May 21, 2024, at approximately 7:30pm Sheriff’s Deputies, Scottsboro Police and medical personnel responded to a 911 call about a person being shot on County Road 21 in the Pikeville, Alabama community. Tracy Thomas Bradford age 58 of Scottsboro was found deceased at the location. The investigation determined that there had been an altercation between Bradford and another male that was at the…

[magnoliasforyourmedic]

"Band-Aid Bandits" - Easy Company's Medics

Edwin Pepping and Albert "Al" Mampre were the self-proclaimed "Band-Aid Bandits."

When the regiment formed a medical detachment, Colonel Sink asked Mampre if he would like to be a medic. Mampre said yes and joined with Pepping. The two developed a knack for obtaining anything they needed without going through proper channels, calling themselves the “Band-Aid Bandits.” Both men considered medical training similar to what they learned in the Boy Scouts. The main difference: the medic candidates practiced giving shots to oranges. “I never ran into an orange in combat,” Mampre mused."

After Mampre and Pepping received their medical certifications, the regiment assigned a new lieutenant to toughen up the medics. He started off by teaching them to properly salute. In retaliation for the senseless exercise, Mampre lit a can of photo film on fire in his barracks. As smoke filled the room, Mampre ran outside to the lieutenant, shouting, “They’re trying to kill us!” The lieutenant went into the barrack and threw the burning can outside, telling Mampre, “I don’t think you’re gonna get killed.” 

...

While the training honed the men’s physical skills, it stimulated voracious appetites. One day, Mampre and his fellow medics caught the smell of fresh muffins wafting from the cook house. They found the tray of muffins and grabbed it, but not before the cooks grabbed the other end. The tug of war ended when the Military Police showed up and took down everyone’s names. “One guy said his name was ‘John Smith,’” explained Mampre, “another said ‘Terpin Hydrate,’ which means cough syrup.” Later, Mampre and his comrades snatched a line of milk bottles laid out for the battalion’s officers. “We were growing boys,” he defended, “we needed them.” The medics drank more than milk. They often drove to local watering holes in an ambulance. Mampre would sit up front with the driver and Captain Samuel “Shifty” Feiler, the dentist, between them. When they reached the bar, someone would shout, “Last one out buys!” and everyone poured out. Mampre and the driver made sure they opened their doors last, ensuring Feiler, stuck in the middle, paid.

Despite the intense training, the medics managed small rebellions. One medic, a cook, smuggled some local girls into a stable. Mampre and Lieutenant (Dr.) Jackson Neavles, the battalion surgeon, went to the stable where Neavles ordered the cook out. When he didn’t respond, they threw in colored smoke grenades. The girls ran out crying, their faces streaked with colors. “Those girls had to walk back to Swindon [about five miles away] like that,” said Mampre. The cook, on the other hand, refused to come out. Other medics had their own way of doing things. They dyed their hair with medicinal peroxide, turning them all blond or shades of red. When their hair grew back, leaving them with dual hair color, their British hosts did a double take. “They thought it was all the rage back in the U.S.,” said Mampre." 

...

Mampre also returned to his Band-Aid Bandit ways. He and some medics decided to steal an armoire from the upper story of an officers’ barracks. Mampre attached ropes to the armoire and was lowering it out a window when a lieutenant walked up and asked, “What are you doing?” Mampre told him he was trying to haul the armoire up to the room. Seeing that Mampre was about to be yanked out the window, the lieutenant told him to lower it and departed. Mampre and his buddies had a new armoire. 

...

In need of a shower, Mampre went into the officers’ shower but, while he was showering, an officer came in and asked, “Lieutenant?” When Mampre didn’t answer, the officer asked, “Captain?” Mampre finished, wrapped himself in a towel, and as he left said, “No. Staff Sergeant, but I’m clean.”

While there he saw some washing machines in crates. He “borrowed” one and had his fellow medics dig a square into the ground to hide it. The medics looked cleaner than the rest of the regiment. “Colonel Sink was wondering what was going on,” he said.

[hanahaki-disease]

And You Wonder What I Believe

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

Summary:

“When Tim looked over to his best friend, now adoptive brother, whose made of lean muscle and gangly limbs of a growing fourteen year old boy much like him, he wonders if he would have done the same. Would he have kept it all a secret from everyone if he knew it would save them? Would he try and keep the two worlds separate because only disaster can come from them meeting?”

To further enhance your reading experience, go and read “You? You!” and “Sing Sweet, Nightingale”

A/N: this installment is like 8,000 words…I did not plan for it to be that long

*******************************************

When it comes to Percy, Tim tries not to pry. Not even after their argument when Percy returned the first time.

The first time Percy disappeared, Tim had no control and no way to help. He hadn’t even begun to train as Robin, hadn’t confronted Bruce about him being Batman, and had been in the middle of a gala when he heard the news.

Percy’s first disappearance was the one of the many reasons that made Tim push harder to become Robin, especially when he had called Dick to let him know about the news. Because Robin was able to help the justice league look for the missing Wayne child. Robin had access to information Tim Drake couldn’t see. He knew that the New York police department didn’t even follow proper protocols when it came to the search, he knew that a gang messed with the footage of the gas station explosion because one of their members had been spotted as part of the passengers.

The second time Percy disappeared, Tim was watching Percy escape the school with the weird tall kid and a girl he had never seen before from the other side of the gym doors. The entrance blocked by some kind of debris and the gym was absolutely wrecked when the first responders had been able to get in.

Tim wanted to follow him, he wanted to make sure Percy was going to be okay and not vanish off the face of the earth for months on end again. He wanted to drag him to one of the many emergency cave and interrogate him, keep him there till Bruce joined them, and continue to question him. Tim wanted to know what had happened to his best friend, and he hates that it felt like they weren’t anymore.

Percy had been his first friend, his first real friend since the younger of the two got adopted by the Batman. Their sarcastic personalities clicking together like link-n-logs, becoming brothers the moment Percy suck up on him on that rooftop. They used to be able to tell each other anything. Nonsense about their current shared brain rot, secret crushes about the girls and boys in the middle and high schools. They would laugh at the gaudily dressed women in the galas, banter with Jason and Alfred for hours on end—Percy knew Tim better than Tim knew himself, and he knew Percy better than anyone in the world.

So why did it seem like the Percy stuffing his duffle was someone Tim had never known before?

Why was he so okay to drop everything he was doing the moment that random girl showed up at the manor? How did she show up at the manor, how did she get past the security triggers and over the seven foot tall gate? None of this was making sense and Tim had been growing worried for Percy ever since he came back two years ago.

He had come back home a bit more reserved than before, a bit more angrier like how Dick had been when he found out Jason died. New scars littered his body, ones that were never reported in his files about how he had gotten them. There was an air of knowledge around him, one with matching chains of secrecy that dragged his limbs down and pulled him away from getting too close with Dick or Tim again.

Something happened to Percy on the first summer away, and it happened again this past summer and now—not even four months later—Tim was watching Percy change before his eyes.

“You—You can’t go! What about Dick? What about Bruce and Alfred?” Tim eyes followed Percy as he ran around his room, grabbing what seemed to be the most random things to put in his bag.

“Dick is said he’d be back in January, he’s on a mission with the Titans to find clone Roy,” Percy said. “And Bruce could give less of a shit if I disappeared and came back.” He zipped up one side of the bag. They must’ve fought recently for him to say that, about what? Tim doesn’t know, but it couldn’t have been good. “I will feel bad about Alfred though.”

“And I’m going whether you like it or not, Tim,” he slung duffle on his shoulder walking out the room. “Nothing you say or do will not make me go. I have to do this.”

“If you go, I’m following,” Tim said.

“No, you’re not coming with me.”

“Then you’re not leaving Percy!” Tim said. “I’m tired of you disappearing every summer. Do you know how worried we all get when you do that?! No, you don’t, cause you’re not here!” He ran his hand through his hair, pulling at the roots. “God, just tell me what’s going on! I can help you, B can help you!”

“I can’t tell you, I wish I could, but I can’t.” Percy pushed past Tim towards the main stairs.

“Why not? Why can’t you tell me?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?” Percy dropped his duffle on the edge of the stairs. He made eye contact with the girl downstairs before Percy turned his attention back to Tim. “I’m doing this to protect you, to protect all of you. This is something Batman has no chance with and even if he did, it’s not his fight. I need to do this to make sure you guys are safe.”

“And what do you think the rest of us are doing every night, huh? Playing hopscotch with Penguin and having tea parties with Scarecrow?” Tim said. “We get hurt already, hell, you’re there to help Alfred patch us up! I just…” Tim sighed. So many words were bubbling up in his chest to the point where he was beginning to feel overwhelmed by all the emotions in him.

He wanted Percy to understand that he didn’t need to do whatever it is that he’s doing by himself. Percy had so many people that could help him with the ‘fight’ he has been doing the past two years. And if he didn’t want Bruce, then Dick would do anything for him. He didn’t want Dick? No worries there’s the entirety of the justice league and their associates. Percy could literally have his pick of the litter for help and yet he’s choosing to go solo?

God.

For someone who doesn’t like Bruce much nowadays, he’s acting an awful lot like him.

“I just want my best friend back, Perce,” Tim felt his shoulders drop. The heat of his worry and anger fading and leaving him exhausted. “I want to know how to help you.”

It was quiet between them for a bit, neither of them wanting to break the fragile silence that settled in the hall. Tim could feel his heart pounding in his chest and tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. It wasn’t often he cried. The emotion was too overpowering and draining, not cathartic like most people say it is. He cried at his mother’s funeral, he cried when he and Percy had their first real argument, and before that? He couldn’t remember, each time he wanted to curl up under the covers of his bed and follow Percy’s lead and disappear for a while.

He couldn’t stop them from falling when Percy carefully wrapped him up in his arms. “I want my best friend back too, but I have to go.” Tim nodded against Percy’s shoulder before the younger separated, the soft shuffling of feet made their way back down the hall to where the duffle sat at the edge of the stairs.

Tim didn’t stop Percy as he made his way down the stairs. Didn’t stop him when he zipped up his winter coat and slung the duffle over his shoulders. He didn’t move from his spot at the bottom of the stairs, one hand holding onto the rail as he grabbed one set of the keys to the front door, shoving them and his favorite gold Bic pen in his pocket.

“When I get back,” Percy held down the latch to the door handle. The cold Gotham air wafting into the foyer and chilling Tim to the bone. “I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Ten words and the sound of the door closing left Tim frozen in his place. He wanted to shove his boots on and his coat and trail after him down the drive way. He wanted to join him in whatever he had to do, whatever was so important that he had to miss the next few weeks or months or however long.

But Percy promised him that he would tell him, Tim had his word. Percy never broke his promises.

—

A week later, looking as if he had just went against Bane in nothing but the clothes on his back, Percy stumbled into Tim’s room. The duffle he had was gone and the clothes he wore were not the same, except for his Reebok, though they had seen better days. Dark circles lined his eyes and he looked paler than he did when he left. Even during the winter months, Percy retained this sun-kissed, beach side tan. It was a warm glow that, alongside the permanent sea salt waves, made it looked like he had been raised on the shores of the Caribbean his whole life. He did not look like that when he walked in.

A bright shock of white was the first thing Tim noticed about Percy when he collapsed at the side of his bed. It still had his signature wave to it, starting at his temple and curving around and through the curls already there. For as well has he knew Percy, he knows that he wasn’t really into dying his hair. Percy liked keeping it the same length and not really doing much to it, aside from styling it for the occasional gala or press release. So then why the white streak?

“Percy?” He watched as his friend ran his hands through his hair, interlocking his fingers behind him and tucked his head in between his knees. There was a tenseness to him, one that—even if he was in one of the most secure places in the world—wouldn’t relax.

When he turned his head toward him, there was a different kind of tiredness in his eyes. A kind of defeated but accepted kind of tiredness. His green eyes were duller than they had been before he left and he sported new scars once again. Faded white lines on his hands and one that down across his jaw from the end of his ear. Percy sucked in a deep breath when he placed his head back where it had been, unclasped his hand and leaned back against the bed.

Tucked under the new gray hoodie and rumbled orange shirt was the leather necklace Percy had started wearing after that initial summer. It had only one bead then, a solid black charm and a glowing blue trident in the center. It was cool at first. The little symbol and the faint light it emitted in the dark, Tim really wanted to inspect it. But then another was added onto the string the following summer. Just like the other, it was a simple sandy-beige colored bead with a pine tree and something gold hanging off the branch. The gold glowed like the tridents, if not brighter in the dark of Tim’s room and it let him see the most recent addition to the necklace.

It wasn’t a bead like the other two, a metal bow and arrow charm with accentuated star shaped corners rested on the neckline of the shirt. Silver and shiny and brand-new, unlike the worn and handmade beads he head. Did they mean something to him? Where had he gotten them? Percy never took it off, wanting the necklace to stay on his persona at all times. Which wasn’t that strange to be honest. Bruce had a particular watch he was fond of when he wasn’t Batman, Dick had his favorite blue studded earrings he never took off, and Tim had his mother’s wedding band hung around his neck too. But, just like his hair, Percy was never one to wear jewelry. He never like having anything around his wrists or around his neck because he would get overwhelmed by the constant rubbing against his skin and neck.

So then why the necklace all of a sudden?

“Where should I start?” Percy said, picking at the skin on his fingers in front of him.

“The beginning, I guess,” Tim closed his laptop, wanting to give Percy his full attention.

“Can you promise not to tell anyone unless I say so? What I’m going to tell you is gonna change how you see everything, even the Amazonians,” Percy turned his head.

“I promise,” Tim slid down to the floor beside him.

Percy nodded his head and sighed, the words heavy in his chest before he even began, “It started with mine and Jason’s dad. Our actual dad.” He locked his fingers together again. “He met our mom seventeen years ago on the beach in Montauk, New York. A summer fling that left my mom pregnant with Jason, and he said that they would go back to the beach for the summers before I was born.

“Jason said that he’s only seen our dad twice before I was born,” He held up two fingers. “The first he said was a fuzzy memory when he was three, and then during the summer the year I was born. After that, he never saw the guy again. We kept going to Montauk till I was three, our mom died in November that year when we were passing through Gotham and Jason and I never left. That’s when Catherine and Willis found us and picked us up.” Percy gave him a quick glance at that. “You already know what happened after that.”

Tim nodded his head quietly. Percy had told him about his years living with Catherine and on the streets. The days in a ratty old apartment, smelling like cigarette smoke, burning crack and moldy walls. Where water leaked from the ceiling and his and Jason’s shared mattress was the same one Catherine shot up heroine. It wasn’t all to different from their years on the streets, they still had to forage for their own meals and take care of themselves when Catherine was too high to even remember her name and Willis was in prison. But at least with them, they had a roof over their head and place to hide from the winter.

He hadn’t known about his birth mother though.

Percy and Jason never talked about her or how they ended up in Gotham. They didn’t even tell Bruce either. All the information they had about her was whatever Bruce dug up when he took them in. Her name was Sally Jackson, a single mother of two boys living in a somewhat bad part of New York, working at a candy shop a few bus stops away from her apartment. She didn’t have a college degree since she had to drop out after her uncle got cancer, and she didn’t have her parents since they did in a plane crash when she was still in middle school.

It was the bare bones information that Bruce could get and it was the only information he had about their biological family. After Percy disappeared, Bruce had tried to dig up his birth father, wondering if maybe he had taken Percy when he had gone to the Met. Maybe the man had seen his son, wanted him back, and took him while he was with his school. But no matter how much Bruce dug, there was nothing. No name, no description, no age. It was as if the guy never existed. He had to, though, otherwise his two sons wouldn’t exist.

“Two years ago, during the field trip to the Met, I had been isolated from the group by the substitute algebra teacher Mrs. Dodds,” Percy said and Tim looked at his with a confused stare.

“There was no Mrs. Dodds in middle school, though,” Tim countered. “I would know, I have an eidetic memory.”

“No you wouldn’t have and let me tell you why,” Percy turned to face him, his hands outstretched before him. “This is the mortal world—” He gestured with on hand. “This is where you and ninety-nine percent of the earth’s population reside. You see things how they are in your head pretty straight forwards. A dog is a dog, a person is a person—unless they’re an alien—and so on and so forth, right?” Tim nodded. “This is…this is my world.” He lifted the other hand. “In my world, I see things that you cant. Dogs aren’t always dogs, people aren’t always people, and natural phenomenon is not caused by science, but by magic. The barrier between these two is what we call the ‘mist.”

“Missed?”

“M-I-S-T. Mist. It’s a magical barrier that blind the mortals from the mythical and magical monsters and people. The Amazonians are a part of my world, they can see what I can see, they can fight what I can fight, but since they’ve been so isolated to the world of man, they’re unable to see past the mist now that it’s gotten stronger since ancient times,” Percy said. “The point is—The gods are real.”

“Like, like Jesus?”

“No, not Jesus,” Percy clarified. “The Greek gods. Zeus, Artemis, Hades—they’re all real.” Distant thunder made Tim’s head turn towards the window.

“But they’re just stories, myths!” Tim leaned back on his hands. “They can’t be real and you’re just making this up.”

“If they’re not real, how is Diana the daughter of Zeus? How are the Amazonians able to live on an isolated island in the middle of the Mediterranean sea, protected by magic? How is Shazam able to channel the ‘Speed of Hermes’ and the ‘Strength of Zeus?” Percy questioned.

Tim stayed quiet. “I don’t know!”

“They can do that because the gods are real. My dad, Jason’s dad, is Poseidon, god of the sea,” Percy said. “I didn’t know that until that summer two years ago.”

He turned around to lay back against the bed again, and eyes trained on the old skateboard mounted on Tim’s wall. The words were hesitant at first, tongue stumbling and stuttering as he recall that first summer. He told him of how the cab they paid had gotten stuck by lightning, flipped and burst into flames on an abandoned back-road. How the glass dug into his skin, the heat of the fire singing the hair on his forearms, and the cold rain digging into his bones and blinding him.

There was a smirk on his face as he spoke about the first monster he defeated. The Minotaur from the legends. He was big, apparently, seven feet tall, four feet wide at his shoulders, and just a mass of coarse bull hair and bright, white fruit of the loom underwear. Tim couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips at the mental image. The monster of the labyrinth? With tidy-whities?

His smile remained as Percy spoke about camp. The automatic camaraderie from the campers who just simply understood everything he had gone through and will experience. The children of the Hermes cabin, those claimed and unclaimed, welcomed him with open arms, teaching him all that he needed to know about life at camp. And while the nights were lonely and filled with nightmares, they’d fade away the moment the morning conch woke them up and started their day.

“The Friday of my first week was when I got claimed by my dad in the most show-offy way, I swear,” Percy chuckled as he threw his pen towards the cup on the other end of the room. They had been getting restless as they talked, Percy especially. He had taken to messing with anything he could get his hands on, a spare wheel for Tim’s current skateboard, the aglets of Percy’s laces, the gold Bic pen Percy always had.

“Claimed? What’s that?” Tim asked and launched his pink highlighter at the cup. “Is that like when a hospital does a paternity test for the baby or something?”

“Kinda,” Percy threw a pencil. “It’s when a god acknowledges their kids. It tells the camp and the other gods and monsters that you are their kid and, thus, have their powers or are a threat.” Percy fist bumped the air when his pencil landed in the cup, he was able to go again. “Sometimes the gods don’t claim their kids, they arrive at camp and they just stay in the Hermes cabin waiting for the day. Other kids get claimed shortly after arriving, but from what I heard that’s pretty rare.”

“Why the Hermes cabin, I though you said only kids of that god could stay in the cabin?”

“Hermes is the god of travelers, so he protects wanderers and stuff,” Percy dropped his arms against his lap. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked more annoyed than angry, if his tight voice was anything to go by. “The camp abuses that fact and shoves all the unclaimed kids in there and that’s not fair to the actual kids of Hermes and the unclaimed kids.” He throws another pencil towards the cup, watching it bounce way as it missed it’s target. “And you’d think the gods would be better with stuff like that, right? They’re gods, all mighty and all knowing, but they don’t even do the bare minimum of claiming their kids? It’s stupid.”

Tim stayed quiet as Percy continued his tale, offering comments and questions as it wore on. It felt unreal, what he had gone through at the age of twelve. (As if Tim was doing any better back then either, he was packing his bags to go a train in Paris to be Robin, so he really wasn’t one to judge.) It made the manhunt and new reports make sense too. The bus explosion was because a fury, the St Louis arch was a Chimera, and Percy was the reason zoo animals had been released in Las Vegas.

It all seemed like an impossible story, a modern Greek myth. Right down to the stages of “the hero’s journey” literature lesson. Tim had been told that there was magic that keep him blind to Percy’s world, the awesomeness of it all too much for him to comprehend. But he can imagine it pretty well. He can picture a younger Percy in his head surrounded by kids in the same bright orange shirts he was wearing, going ham on straw dummies in a Colosseum like the one in Rome. He can imagine the stone statues of the innocent lives Medusa captures, the souls in the fields of asphodel and the gems that sparkled on the food of the underworld.

He might not have been blessed with sight, but he does have a pretty good imagination.

Percy’s trip out the Bermuda triangle last years was even more impossible than the year before. First, the big kids in the gym class were Laistrygonians and Tyson was a baby cyclops and Percy’s half-brother. Which, what? How does that make sense?

“Cyclops are mainly children of Poseidon and some kind of nymph or naiad,” Percy had switched from throwing writing utensils at Tim’s empty tea mug, to trying to perfecting his batarang throw with the spares Tim had in his room. And, yes, Tim knows he shouldn’t have them outside the cave. Though people didn’t come over unless it was a gala, Bruce and Alfred did not want it to become a habit to have anything cape related in the manor. But Tim was always careful when it came to stuff like that, Percy can vouch for him.

“Why? I don’t know, but I have a feeling it has to do with his title of ‘father of monsters,” Percy shrugged before landing one bullseye. For claiming he was a terrible shot with a bow at camp, Percy had good aim. He hit whatever targets they set up with pretty good accuracy and speed, only missing the dart board on Tim’s door once. Alfred will not be happy about that when he sees the edge sticking out in the hall. “Oh, and Polyphemus, the cyclops guarding the golden fleece, is my half-brother too. I stabbed him in the eye.”

“That’s gonna make thanksgiving dinners awkward,” Tim joked.

“They’re already awkward now,” Percy pointed out. “I really don’t want to know how that’d go. Jeez. I think they’d trade me for the turkey.”

Percy continued to talk about what he did besides stab his brother. And despite being told that he was the son of Poseidon, Tim didn’t really believe him. Like, yeah, sure, Percy told him that he had perfect nautical bearings while at sea and that he could control any sea vessel while it was on water. And in theory, Percy can control water. (which, what was the limit to that? Was it just water or was it anything that contained water? Could he move poisons and toxins? Can…Can Percy bend blood?) But there is no proof of Percy doing that anywhere near Tim and the manor, therefore: Pics or it didn’t happen.

But back to Percy’s story—the fleece had done what to the magic tree? It brought the dead girl back? A part of Tim wanted to call bullshit on that, because how did that work? It went against all laws of nature to bring people back from the dead after so many years of them being in the ground. Even if the reason was magical in nature, one does not simply bring the dead back to life. Surely there was consequences for doing that right? Would it attract the wrath of Hades or Thanatos or something?

“So if you only go on quests in the summer, why’d you leave last week?” Tim pried the batarang out of the targets, small pieces of his bookshelf being pried out with each one. Alfred was going to given them so many chores for destroying the furniture.

Tim watched as the light heartedness Percy had vanished as he sat on the ground once more, the widow in front of him, the bed at his back. His knees came up and his arms were laid over them like it had been when they had first started the conversation. One hand reached to fidget with the bow and arrow charm and the streak of white in his hair seemed to glow in the dark, catching Tim’s eye.

“Last Friday, Thalia came to get me because she heard from Grover that there were two demigods that needed to be taken to camp. He said their scents were strong, like mine and hers, and it was an all hands on deck situation,” Percy said, dropping the charm before he began to spin his pen as an alternative fidget. “Me, Thalia, and our friend Annabeth went to upstate New York where we met Nico and Bianca, later we find out that they’re children of Hades.”

“We tried to save them, but there was a problem.” Tim placed the weapons in their case, his focus mainly on Percy. “There was a manticore and so many monsters that the three of us were getting out numbered. Thankfully the hunters of Artemis were able to come in, but, we lost Annabeth.”

“What do you mean?”

“She tackled a monster down into a trench and went missing for the week, eventually we found her, but I had to go on the quest given to the leader of the hunters, Zoe.” He had that dull look in his eyes again. No doubt the memory replaying in his head. “Her quest was to save Artemis, who had also been missing the for the past month, and it lead her to Mt Tamalpais where Artemis and Annabeth had been held hostage by Atlas.”

Incredulously, Tim cocked his head as he made his way to sit next to Percy. “Atlas? The guy who hold up the sky?”

Percy nodded. “He was set free by Luke because Kronos told him to. He really wants his general to lead his army or something. Anyway, Luke took over the weight of the sky and Annabeth was placed under it to save Luke.”

“Why though? The guy sounds like a total asshole, no offense ,” Tim commented.

“Oh, no, he is an asshole,” Percy agreed. “Luke is like her big brother, them and Thalia had come to camp together and she looks up to him the way we do to Dick. But, Luke is angry at the gods. He hates that they don’t care about us and wants them to fall so Kronos can take over, he doesn’t realize though that once Kronos gets his way, Luke’ll be thrown away like yesterday’s trash, ya’know?”

Tim nodded. He understood where Luke was coming from, after all, his own parents didn’t really care for him that much anyway. He knew they loved him, he knew they cared…in their own…special way. But he can’t imagine wanting his parents’ downfall because they weren’t there for Christmas every year. It was as if he summoned Trigon to smite them because they didn’t go to his third grade recital.

“Back to the story,” Percy said. “Once they got Annabeth to mt Tamalpais, He used the affection that she still had for him to have her take the weight instead. I think she was there for almost a whole day before they brought in Artemis. Eventually Artemis switched with Annabeth because she could last longer than a demigod, and also because she’s a maiden goddess of women. She’s gonna want to protect her as best as she can.

“Luke also knew that I would go where ever Annabeth was because, besides you, she’s my other best friend.” Percy rubbed the back of his neck and Tim smirked. Even in the dark of the night, with only the light of his singular lamp to light the room, Tim could see the tips of his ears turn a bit pink

He liked her, he just doesn’t want to admit it yet. Tim will file that information away for black mail for later.

“So by having her and Artemis there, Luke was using them as bait?” Percy nodded.

“Kronos wants me to be his meat suit,” he admitted. “Since I’m a child of his strongest children, I’ll be able to withstand the sheer amount of power that comes with hosting a titan. Especially since with my powers I basically control seventy percent of the earth, I can cause hurricanes that devastate the ground, and earthquakes to strong I could sink the Philippines.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting.” Tim nodded his head. Okay, maybe he didn’t want Percy to prove it. Like, it’d be cool for him to make the ground move a little, or raise the entirety of the pool water in the back gardens. But if he uses too much power? If he looses control? Tim doesn’t want to be the reason the docks get over flooded and the bridges collapse, even if it wasn’t him who did it. “How’d you guys get to there anyway? It took you a while to get across country on your first…quest, so wouldn’t it have taken you the same amount of time this time around?”

“You’d think but, we had more help this time,” Percy began explain how he made it across the county in a week. First he flew on Pegasus horseback, then boarded a magic train that took him to Colorado. While there he rode a magic boar that took him to Death Valley.

Percy paused once he got there though, the flow of words coming to an abrupt halt and an apprehensive bob of his Adam’s apple. It was clear that something shifted in Percy after that night. A realization of some kind, an acceptance to a truth and a guilt chaining him where he sat. Still, Percy continued on. His hands holding tight to his arms as they crossed atop his knees, the pen long forgotten somewhere on the floor.

First he described the sky, how the stars were so bright and every constellation made their appearance. He was able to trace Gemini and Corvus, point to where the little dipper ended at Polaris. Tim had never known a clear night sky like that, be he can imagine it. All the stars glittering without the smog and lights of the city to dim them.

“We got stuck in the desert for a bit though, in one of Hephaestus’s junkyards,” He held tighter to himself. “It would have taken longer to go around and we didn’t have the time for that, so we went through it. It was cool at first. All the machines and weapons and trinkets, you would’ve had a blast. But we didn’t know there was a giant mech made to protect the stuff.

“One of us had grabbed something and it woke. We tried everything, no one took anything, or at least we didn’t think anyone took anything” Percy rested his cheek against his arms and Tim could see his eyes grow glossy. Tears springing up and threatening to spill as he spoke.

“We lost Bianca, Nico’s sister,” Percy whispered as a tear made its way down his cheek into the sleeves of his jacket. Just like Tim, Percy wasn’t one to cry much. Preferring to express himself in solitude of his room or one of the various hideouts he had in the manor. Last Time he saw Percy really let his emotions go was when Jason died. Tim heard his voice grow hoarse with his cries, his face red and eyes puffy from crying.

Now that he’s thinking about it, Tim remembers the weather being all weird during Jason’s funeral. Small earthquakes rippled through Gotham for a while, rattling the glass of every window and nearly collapsing a few old buildings. The water in the harbor rose higher, the boats in the bay nearly capsizing. Not to mention the hurricanes that devastated a few cities in the south, the record high waves in the ocean.

Was that Percy doing that? Was it him and his father grieving the loss of a brother and son?

“And I…I promised Nico that I’d keep her safe—” He dropped his head, arms reach over his head to pull at his hair. Tim could hear his sniffles, the stuttering breaths that kept him from pulling in a full breath. “I told him that I would bring her back to camp, but she—she sacrificed herself to make sure the rest of us didn’t die there.”

Percy lifted his head and wiped at his tears, trying to could himself together. “Gods, he was so angry with me.” Percy said. “He hates me now, ran off and we can’t find him now. But I promised him that I’d keep her safe. I promised that she would come back!”

“You did what you could, Perce,” Tim sat closer to Percy, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He’ll be honest, he wasn’t the best when it came to comforting someone under emotional distress. The most he can do is a stiff pat on the shoulder and a robotic “there, there.” But he has to do something to help the guy, he can’t just leave him to wallow in guilt and anger like Bruce tends to do six days out of the week. “You protected her until she had to protect you, that’s how it goes sometimes. Especially in our lives.”

“I know, but I just wished Nico hadn’t run away,” he sniffled, wiping the tears off his cheeks. “He’s a son of Hades, monsters are going to be after him and he’s only ten. He can’t fight. He wasn’t in camp long enough to know how to defend himself. I just—“ he cleared his throat. “I just don’t want to be the reason something bad happens to him. He left the one place that safe for kids like us because I got his sister killed.”

There was a lull of silence between them and Tim could feel the guilt weight down heavy on Percy. He didn’t like that all of this has happened to him, hates that they’re only fourteen and already they have lost so much. Tim understands what Percy’s going through, he knows how the chains of guilt and regret feel around his limbs. Because how many lives could have been saved if Tim was just that much faster? If he was that much smarter? How many parents could have lived to see their children get married, graduate college, or even celebrate the next Christmas with them? How many kids will never go to school again, never see their friends or family, never age? All because Tim couldn’t save them in time.

Dick explained the guilt that come attached to this life, of knowing that they had the power to save them, but they couldn’t. He told him that every person they couldn’t save was another link on the chain. Dick also told him that, while they should be upset they couldn’t help them, their death shouldn’t hold them back. Yes, it was tragic. Yes, it’s good to feel guilty and sad and angry that they couldn’t do more. But he couldn’t let it consume him, Tim can’t let their deaths keep him from saving every one else.

A few more moments passed, and Percy’s breaths were even again. His voice still had that post-cry warble to them, no doubt the lump in his throat the cause for that, and his eyes were red and puffy from the cry. “When we got to the mountain, we found out that Zoe is one of Atlas’s daughters. She lost her place as one of the Pleiades because she helped Heracles in the ancient times and got banished, joined the hunters to avoid men and protect women since she couldn’t go back.

“There was a big fight between us and Atlas and Luke,” Percy said. “Zoe needed Artemis’s help to stop Atlas, Annabeth and Thalia were preoccupied with Luke and his minions, but she was still holding up the sky. If she dropped it, it would crash against the earth and kill us all.”

“Did you hold it for her?” Percy nodded. “Is that how you got the…?”

“Demigods who hold up the sky are given the streak of white as a trophy, that they were strong enough to not be crushed by its weight and understand the prison in which Atlas is chained to,” Percy said turning his head so that Tim could see it. Like some kind of magic anime girl, the streak of white seemed to glow in the moonlight. A silvery tint highlighted the black curls around it, as if Artemis was helping him show off this feat of strength. “Luke and Annabeth have more in their hair than I do since they held it for longer, but eventually we got Atlas back under the sky, not without consequence though.”

“What happened?” Tim furrowed his eyebrows.

“We lost Zoe. Atlas stabbed her in the fight when she was protecting Artemis. We tried to save her on our flight back to camp in Artemis’s chariot, but she didn’t want to be saved.” Percy got up from his spot and motioned for Tim to follow him to the window.

It was a clear night for once. The gray clouds didn’t cover the ark blue of the night sky and, most importantly for this demonstration, the stars. Bright twinkling lights of various sizes and brightness, some strung together by the human mind over the centuries. He tilted his head around, scanning the skies for a second before he stood back and pointed in the direction he was looking. There in the sky, near to Orion, was a new constellation. A set of stars Tim had never seen before. “Artemis turned Zoe into a constellation, she loved the stars and told me she didn’t like how in modern times we couldn’t see it anymore. It’s called ‘The Huntress.”

“Wow.” Tim gaped at it and he could see her figure in the sky. Her arm outstretched, and arrow notched in the bow ready to fire. It was beautiful.

“Yeah.” Percy sat on the bed, shoulders slumped and his body language timid. “That’s all that happened but it’s not what I’m most worried about.”

Tim took one last look at the constellation before joining him on the bed. “There is this prophecy that says a child of the oldest gods is going to fight Kronos when they reach sixteen,” Percy says. “It’s said that they’re either the catalyst for the fall or the survival of Olympus.”

“At first we didn’t know who is was going to be about, the prophecy was spat out a few decades ago. But then I showed up and everyone thought it was me,” He said. “We thought it would have been Thalia since she got revived by the fleece and she’s fifteen, but she joined the hunters and is now immortal. Bianca and Nico could be chosen, but Nico’s ten, and Bianca’s…”

“So that leaves you again.”

“Yeah.” He nods and takes a breath. “I don’t want this to fall on Nico, he’s already lost his sister and he’s so young.”

“But if you’re going against Kronos, the Kronos, you’re gonna need all the help you can get Percy.” Tim says.

“I know, and no I don’t want Bruce to know.”

“But—”

“No! This isn’t league business, it’s not Batman business. This is demigod stuff,” Percy stood up. “You guys can’t even see the monsters I fight, how are you going to protect yourself if you don’t know what you’re fighting? Mortals can’t see through the mist, they can’t get blessed with sight, unless they’re born able to see it.”

“And how do you know I can’t?” Tim crossed his arms.

Percy dug into his pocket and pulled out his pen and uncapped it. “What do you see me holding?”

“A baseball bat.”

“Wrong. It’s a sword.”

“No, you’re lying.”

“No I’m not, you just can’t see it. You can’t even feel it when I hit you with it, it goes right through you because you’re mortal. Bruce is mortal. Alfred and Dick and Barbara are mortal.” The bat changed back into a pen. “You guys could die trying to fight in my war and I won’t let you.”

“If you don’t want us to fight, then why are you telling me?” Tim said.

“Because you’re my best friend and my brother and I miss you!” Percy yelled. Whatever anger that was growing dissipated with the confession and he just looked defeated and tired again. “I missed just hanging out with you like we used to. And I can’t do that if you’re wondering where I disappear off to in the middle of the day cause I’m fighting a hell hound during fifth period.”

“You’re the one who didn’t want anything to do with me anyway when you said I wasn’t mean to be Robin! You’re the one who instigated it.”

“Because if I didn’t then you wouldn’t stop questioning me about what happened! You would try and tell Bruce, and then Bruce would try and take over and be a general to a child army of the gods. I don’t want that! You guys save the world all the time,” Percy said. “Can’t I save it just once without him?”

“You could’ve been Robin thought, I don’t see why you have to fight the titan of freakin’ time!”

“I don’t have a choice Tim!” Percy yelled. “Do you think I want to fight him? That I want to be the deciding factor of if Olympus falls and the world gets overruled by the titans and sent back to the stone age?!” Tim stayed quiet, watching Percy’s arms flail to accentuate his words. “No! I don’t, but I don’t have a choice. The sisters of fate have already said that I have to do it, and bad things happen to those who go against fate. And it’s bad enough that kids of the big three are essential cursed from birth now, I don’t want to tempt fate any more than I should.”

“What do you mean ‘already cursed?’ did something happen?”

“Yeah. World War Two. One side had the children of Zeus and Poseidon, the other the children of Hades, and they decided that—for the safety of the world—to not have kids since. They swore of the river Styx, which is the strongest bind of all kinds, and if you break it, bad things happen.” Percy answered. “Zeus broke his oath and Thalia died, Poseidon broke his oath and Jason died and I get stuck with eternal bad luck.”

“But what about those other kids you mention, Bianca and Nico, aren’t they cursed too?”

“Technically no, they were born back in the forties before the oath—” Tim opened his mouth to question. “Time magic and a casino in Vegas, I told you about it earlier.” Tim closed his mouth. “The point is Tim, I don’t want to be the center of the biggest prophecy of the century, but I have no choice. And it puts my mind at ease knowing you all can’t get hurt because you don’t know anything. Yeah, you guys can handle your own, obviously, but you can’t handle this.”

“You guys protect Gotham and the world and me from everything else,” Percy sat down next to Tim again. “Let me protect you guys from this.”

Tim let the words circle his head for a moment. The moon was way over head now, the stars outside the window shifted to the other half of the manor and he was kinda upset that he wouldn’t get to see Zoe’s constellation from his window. Logically he know that new stars didn’t just appear out of nowhere, they were already there in the sky, but to think that they had been just assembled into the constellation all of sudden was mind boggling.

Maybe Percy was right. Maybe the gods were real and that’s why strange things happen, it surely would explain Diana’s immortality and the other Amazonian’s abilities. It does explain where Percy’s been and the scars he has, why he’s good at sword fighting in the cave and why he acts like he knows more than anyone else.

Well, it’s because he does, Tim thinks. His brain had to process both normal mortal customs and that of the demigod world. He has to remember all the mythological monsters and gods, the heroes of old and how their stories help or hurt him now. He has to train all year around because the monsters won’t stop going after him because it’s a school day. No wonder some nights Percy’s wide awake, tired and sleepy, but adamant about not going back to sleep. He probably has nightmares that keep him up the same way it does for him and Bruce and Dick.

When Tim looked over to his best friend, now adoptive brother, whose made of lean muscle and gangly limbs of a growing fourteen year old boy much like him, he wonders if he would have done the same. Would he have kept it all a secret from everyone if he knew it would save them? Would he try and keep the two worlds separate because only disaster can come from them meeting?

“Okay.” Tim breathes. He would. Tim would be doing exactly what Percy is doing now because, ultimately, Tim can’t do anything to help. He can study the old myths all he wants, he can read the Odyssey and every variant of every myth ever, but he’ll never be able to cross the line that separates Percy’s world from his.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” He confirms. “You do what you have to Percy. I’ll try and help as much as I can with my puny mortal mind and body—” Percy breaks into a smile and snorts, pulling a smile of Tim’s own on his lips. God, how long has it been since he’s seen Percy smile like that, like when they were kids. When the duty of didn’t Gotham bind him to a mask and place the weight of the sky in his hands. “And I’ll try my best to keep B off your back. But can you promise me something?”

“What is it?”

“Promise me when you’re out on quests, saving the world, doing your thing as the son of Poseidon,” Tim says, holding out his pinkie. “That if you need help, of any kind, you won’t hesitate to call?”

Percy stared at his finger for a second, no doubt running through the possibilities in his head, but instead he wrapped his own little finger around Tim’s. “I promise.”

*******************************************

I love the relationship I’ve built for Tim and Percy, their characters (both canon and in this au) are just *chef’s kiss*

Also, I hope the rants they have are in character. They’re both those type of characters that it’s easy to accidentally write as their fanon-self and not their canon.

Thank you for reading!!!!

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[tumbleweed-writes]

Death and the Lady: Chibs Telford X Reader. Chapter Twelve

TAG LIST: @youngadult9016  @mrsfilipchibstelford @mamawiggers1980 @ravennaortiz @liveinsteadofdreaming @redwoodmaya

PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE

18+ Only. Crude sexual language.

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Chapter Twelve: Lamb

The door to the deputy sheriff’s office in Charming’s local P.D., was yanked open so hard that it could almost be considered a miracle it did not fracture the drywall against the doorknob as it slammed against the wall.

Deputy David Hale stared down at Agent June Stahl, his eyes dark and narrow the words flying from his lips. “You had my guys pull records on Tara Knowles and Y/N Y/L/N?”

Stahl gazed up at the infuriated deputy, her voice calm and cool showing no regard for his anger, she not even caring enough to address the question. “Did you enjoy your lunch break?”

Hale glared down at the ATF agent spotting the files spread out across the desk, his stomach turning at the clear sight of old mugshots featuring both Tara and Y/N along with police reports.

He didn’t understand what angle Stahl was working here. If she was interested in ol ladies then surely Gemma Teller Morrow would be a better choice. 

Tara and Y/N weren’t exactly on the same level as the Queen of SAMCRO. What could they possibly provide Stahl to build a RICO case against SAMCRO?

Both Tara and Y/N having questionable taste in romantic partners didn’t exactly mean they were involved in gun running. 

Deputy Hale slammed the door shut behind him not wanting any nearby ears to pick up on the conversation he was about to have with Stahl. He knew he’d already attracted a few gazes from both ATF agents and his fellow department coworkers by bursting in here clearly pissed off. 

He spoke his voice harsh, as he glared down at her, the agent looking all too comfortable sitting at his desk. “They have nothing to do with this investigation.”

“Oh, David. How willfully naive. They have so much to do with this investigation. You aren’t seeing the possibility behind these two.” Stahl remarked an amused smirk crossing her lips at how worked up the good deputy seemed to be over the mention of these two women.

It seemed that she had struck a nerve in him, and she was unable to avoid the temptation to strike again.

Hale let out a scoff at the comment addressing his first concern. “Tara Knowles left Charming and SAMCRO behind. She might have had a wild past, but she’s cleaned up her act. She went out to Chicago and got a medical degree. She’s not opening beers for outlaws anymore.”

“Oh, we both know that’s not entirely true. All these photos Agent Kohn provided seem to indicate that Dr. Knowles is starting to get a little close and personal with one very patched in Jackson Teller. Those two have a history judging by these police reports. Arrests in the nineties for public intoxication, disorderly conduct, and possession of stolen property, all in the company of one Jackson Teller.”

“They dated back when we were teenagers. We all did stupid things as teens. She left town at nineteen and left Teller and the MC behind. She’s been gone for over a decade now. She only came back because her dad died and she got a job opportunity out here.” Hale snapped Agent Stahl rolling her eyes at the comment.

“She was out in Chicago, David. She was top of the class from the looks of it. Brilliant young woman with the accolades to back it up, just how many job opportunities must those brains and accomplishments have brought in for her? With her background she could take a job anywhere in the country at any hospital of her choice. Why’d she pick Charming? I can’t imagine it's just homesickness that led her back here. She could have stayed out in Chicago and made a hell of a lot more money than Saint Thomas is probably offering her. Why pick Saint Thomas and Charming? I think we both are well aware of Agent Kohn’s real reason for coming out to Charming. Agent Kohn is one sick puppy and I can’t imagine Tara was too keen on sticking around up in Chicago with him hanging around. Tara’s ex boyfriend becomes her stalker and she comes back to a town where her first love has a dangerous reputation. You don’t think that’s a little convenient? '' Stahl pointed out Hale gritting his jaw unwilling to admit that the answer to just why she’d come back home lay in Jax Teller.

He spoke, still refusing to admit that Tara could possibly have any possible information to build a RICO case. “I’m sure Jackson Teller’s boy being premature has made Tara and he take some walks down memory lane, but Tara is no ol lady. She’s not getting any pillow talk about gun running from anyone in SAMCRO. Agent Kohn has been taken care of. He’s heading back to Chicago to answer to his superiors. Tara Knowles isn’t looking to seek protection from Teller.”

Stahl raised a brow at the comments, shrugging her shoulders as she spoke. “That may be the case, but you do have to be a little curious about the similarities between Dr. Knowles and Miss. Y/L/N. Both young women with troubled criminally prone backgrounds who left town only to come back after losing their fathers. Both women have been seen in the company of at least one patched in member of SAMCRO. In fact, both women share some similarities in their rap sheets. Looks like they have both been arrested in the company of one Jackson Teller. I do have to wonder if Dr. Knowles knows that Jax found a new Bonnie to his Clyde in her absence.”

Hale let out a huff at this, his voice holding an edge of irritation as he glared down at Stahl. “Y/N had some difficult years in her late teens and early twenties. Jackson and she shared a bond given her brother’s accident.”

“Yes, Daniel Y/L/N. It’s a shame what happened to him. Miss. Y/L/N dutifully pays those institutionalization bills to keep him cared for.  Looks like he wasn’t on the best path though. He ran around with Harry Opie Winston and Jackson Teller from what I’m gathering from Daniel’s police record. Looks like his first few arrests weren’t anything too grand, arrests in his late teens for possession of marijuana…not enough to get him more than a fine…some drunk and disorderlies around the same time. He was arrested with both Winston and Teller for a drunken brawl out at the Hairy Dog back when he was twenty one. The arresting officer commented that Mr. Y/L/N seemed elated by the violence. Judging by the black eye and the grin on his face in this mugshot, he was in his element. Strange how he never prospected for the MC. Looks like he was as thick as thieves with Teller and Winston before the accident.”

“His father kept him on a tight leash. After that arrest at twenty one he gave him an ultimatum, some tough love to get him on the right path. From my understanding he told him to get his shit together and enroll in community college or lose access to Y/N. His father didn’t want him leading her down that path. Daniel loved his little sister dearly. She worshiped Daniel and their father knew she’d follow him anywhere. His accident was heartbreaking for her. He may as well have died with as hard as she took it. He was more than a brother to her. I'm sure she viewed Daniel as being her best friend.” Hale explained shifting in place his stomach turning at the mention of a young man he’d once considered a friend before Daniel started going down a bad path with Opie and Jax.

“Looks like the ultimatum was in vain. Daniel Y/L/N has his motorcycle accident and that same year Y/N gets arrested in the company of Jackson Teller. She got busted for public intoxication. Scandalous considering she was all of eighteen and Mr. Teller was about twenty three, a little too old to be sniffing around her, but we both know the MC isn't filled morally upstanding guys. Her being barely out of being considered jailbait must have been thrilling for the boys at SAMCRO.” Stahl provided proudly displaying the mugshot.

Hale gazed down at the mugshot of an eighteen year old Y/N, her face still holding baby fat, her hair a faded pink that had gone a peachy tone, a dazed look in her eyes; she was clearly under the influence. He could spot chipped black nail polish on her fingers and a silver stud in her left nostril. The tank top she wore was far too low cut revealing the red lace of a bra. The slight smirk on her red painted lips showed that she felt little shame for her very first arrest.

Stahl spoke again providing more information about Y/N’s arrest record. “She continued to become a frequent flier in your jail cells. Looks like she got picked up a few more times at eighteen and nineteen, drunk and disorderly, driving under the influence, driving under the influence on a suspended license, possession of the tiniest amount of pot which wasn't enough to be an issue if she wasn’t clearly drunk, an arrest for shoplifting a pack of cigarettes and a candy bar where the arresting officer noted she seemed intoxicated. You picked her up more than once for some of these arrests…that must have been awkward for you both. Looks like she got a few slaps on the wrist, some fines, and some court ordered community service along with a few alcohol education courses. Didn’t seem to faze her though as the arrests continued…gotta love a small town police department. Most of this crap would have landed her doing some real time anywhere but Charming.”

“Sheriff Unser respected her father…everyone respected her father for the good he did for the community; caring for the deceased. He was a beloved figure around Charming. People saw him as personable and caring for the bereaved and diligent about caring for the dead. He had a reputation for being charitable to those who couldn’t always afford to bury their dead…made him even more adored around town. People felt sorry for him after Daniel’s accident…people around town felt awful for the man losing his son and having a daughter who wasn’t coping well. Lloyd Y/L/N advocated for his daughter to stay out of the system…Unser felt bad given what happened with Daniel, didn’t want Lloyd to lose another kid…The judge who ordered the community service and alcohol awareness courses felt the same way given Unser’s appeals to give Y/N opportunities to get her life on the right track. I don’t know how he kept her out of any real jail time or any harsher punishments…Unser’s a slick son of a bitch. I’m sure some money passed between Lloyd Y/L/N’s palm and the judge’s at least once. Lloyd Y/L/N was morally upstanding, but when it came to his little girl…he was willing and desperate enough to break his morals…especially given the situation with his son. He couldn't bear to lose Y/N too.” Hale provided, gritting his jaw at the thought of Unser.

Stahl shook her head. “Guess it’s good to be friends with Unser. Looks like Unser’s appeals kept her out of too much trouble, but she didn’t get her life on the right track. There’s a few more arrests here at nineteen. This one is interesting; an arrest in the company of one Alexander Tig Trager and one Robert Bobby Elvis Munson at a truck stop right on the edge of Charming city limits. Looks like she was about to turn nineteen and all three were clearly very under the influence. Trager was driving erratically and the officer noted that Y/N was so intoxicated that she fell out of the passengers door when the officer opened it. Local PD couldn’t prove that either man had provided the alcohol for Miss. Y/L/N, so Trager and Munson didn’t get more than a slap on the wrist for being in the company of an intoxicated minor. You do have to admit it's troubling a girl her age was hanging out with two men that age. Rumors around town are that Miss. Y/L/N was a regular at SAMCRO’s clubhouse. Looks like she was a…croweater? Isn’t that the term the Sons use for the club whores?”

The comment made Hale see red, the man speaking his voice harsh. “She kept bad company back then, but she was not playing the croweater game. She was not spreading her legs for every single guy in a kutte.” 

Stahl smirked at the comment, quickly addressing it. “Sounds like I struck a nerve there, David. You’re getting a little defensive about Miss. Y/L/N’s promiscuous past? One might think you’re sweet on her.”

She smirked all the more as she spotted the way Hale tensed all the more at the comment. She spotted a flash of indignation in the man’s eyes at the implication that Y/N was a club tart. “You arrested her a few times back then, David? That must have been frustrating for you in more ways than one. I bet you wanted to place her in handcuffs in much different circumstances.”

Hale scoffed at this comment shaking his head, his voice tense he refusing to address the innuendo about handcuffs and Y/N the thought making him a little hot under the collar. “I was close with her brother when we were kids. Having to arrest Y/N was not something I found enjoyable.”

Stahl sighed, backing off the teasing as she pulled out another mugshot. “Looks like she was around nineteen and twenty when things got a little disturbing for Miss Y/L/N. Her partner in crime shifted from Jackson and a few members of SAMCRO and to one Nathaniel Gunner Papadopoulos. Nathaniel or Gunner as he goes by is a Son. Looks like he was a nomad at the time, but nowadays he’s fully patched into the Tacoma charter of the Sons. The first arrests with him follow the same path; public intoxication and drunk and disorderly…then things get dark. There were a few calls out to bars around town where the two had some verbal altercations, there were no arrests for these as they vacated the premises and that satisfied the bar owners. Then there was an arrest outside a gas station for being disorderly in public…Y/N is about nineteen here and Gunner is about twenty six…looks like they got into a verbal altercation once again and Mr. Papadopoulos struck Miss. Y/L/N…he was arrested. She was taken in after she tried to argue with the arresting officer and interfere with the arrest of Mr. Papadopoulos. It seems she was frustrated that he was being arrested as she did not want to press charges for the physical assault on her. That was the first arrest for an altercation between the pair where things got physical. Looks like one of the final arrests we have of the pair involved an altercation the two had outside of a diner when Miss. Y/L/N was twenty. You were one of the responding officers from what I see”.

Hale shifted in place, his jaw clenching so tight he looked as though he might crack a tooth. He cringed as Stahl continued. “Chances are you must remember the arrest, but I can refresh your memory. From the police record it looks as though Mr. Popadopoulos and Miss. Y/L/N were under the influence and having a lovers spat in the parking lot of the diner, over the waitress getting a little too friendly with Mr. Papadopoulos, when Papadopoulos struck Miss. Y/L/N. She reacted by hitting him back and it devolved into a full on physical altercation. Looks like she got him pretty good judging by the scratch marks across his face and the bruises he’s sporting. He seems to have gotten her better though given the split lip. The arresting officer who you were with noted past bruises on Miss. Y/L/N and indicated suspicion of domestic violence, but Miss. Y/L/N seemed to brush questions about it off as evidence of rough sexual encounters between Mr. Papadopoulos and her. You noted in your notes on the arrest that you tried to urge Miss. Y/L/N to press charges against Mr. Papadopoulos as her reaction could be written off as self defense..but she was not interested. The two spent the night in jail and one of the Sons, looks like one of Gunner's fellow nomads that was visiting the mother charter, bailed Gunner out the next morning…Gunner then bailed Miss. Y/L/N out…how romantic. The mugshots are not pretty”

Hale let out a heavy breath, his body filled with tension as he gazed down at the mugshot in question. Y/N looked far less proud of herself in this photo. Her right eye was swollen, the hint of a black eye starting to develop. Her lip was split courtesy of one of Gunner’s silver chunky biker rings. She was dressed in another tight tank top and it did little to hide the bruises across her skin, some markings old and some quite recent. Her eyes held an almost empty sense to them as though she was running on autopilot most of the time but disconnected from her surroundings. Her body seemed too thin and it felt as though it was from more than aging. He suspected drug use though he could not place the drug in question without testing her. Her hair had faded back to its natural tone and the nose piercing was gone. She was scowling at the camera clearly filled with rage.

Hale spoke the words leaving him before he could stop them  “I tried to get her to press charges against the bastard. I tried to convince her that he was taking her down a bad path. He had her under some kind of spell or something I don’t know…She left town a few months after that last arrest. Rumors around town said that she was seen using a phone booth near main street looking worse for wear. Her father picked her up and got her out of town.”

Hale took a deep breath, his words harsh he tearing his eyes from the mugshot. “Y/N’s past has no bearing on anything. She has straightened herself out. She’s taken over her father’s business and has stayed on the straightened arrow. She’s grown up.”

“Maybe so…those empty graves that were found back in the cemetery months ago do seem fishy though…given the bodies that disappeared from the Sons warehouse right around the time those bodies from the empty graves were found out in Lodi. Those empty graves were filled by Miss. Y/L/N’s funeral home. Lodi cops seem to have lost steam for the case…and they were satisfied with Miss. Y/L/N’s statements about the incident. Does seem interesting that she comes back to town and just so happens to get involved with a member of SAMCRO right around the time that this whole grave robbing and disappearing bodies situation happens. How convenient for SAMCRO.”

Hale cleared his throat knowing he had his own suspicions about Y/N’s involvement, but he could admit he was choosing to live in denial over the reality of the situation.

He would be lying if he tried to claim he didn’t think of Y/N and didn’t feel some sense of fondness for her.

In some way he still remembered her as the talkative little girl who followed her brother and he around when they were kids.

He thought of her as the lonely child who according to his younger sister never could fit in with their peers.

He'd always felt a sense of care for Y/N none the less. He could remember her being vibrant and brave. She was at times a little too fierce and so unapologetic that it bordered on being rude. He could remember finding the quality somewhat admirable though; her willingness to be so brazen.

As she’d grown she’d seemed determined to follow her brother’s path in the company she kept. Hale had been displeased by her rebellion. He had hoped that her brother's accident would scare her straight but it seemed to push her into a life of chaos. She'd clung to the men who her brother had once run amuck with.

Jackson Teller had seemed willing to take Y/N under his wing and lead her to destruction.

Hale would be lying if he tried to claim he didn’t feel slightly disturbed as he stood aside and watched Y/N grow into an attractive young woman who seemed to be all too comfortable around the local outlaw MC. He’d maybe gone out of his way back then to try to coax her into understanding that she was down a bad path. He'd been a rookie cop back then and had been all too aware of Y/N's bad behavior. He'd tried to reason with her using his past friendship with her brother to coax her into getting on the right path. When Gunner had gotten involved with her that coaxing had increased but Y/N had practically spit in Hale’s face at his attempts to rescue her from her situation.

He’d been grateful when she'd left town. He'd hoped that she was getting her head on straight. When she came back to town Hale had hopes that she’d grown up in her time away. He’d been relieved when it seemed she’d turned over a new leaf.

Hale could admit that he'd been hopeful that she was done with bad boys in kuttes.

He could also admit that he'd felt a sense of attraction for the young woman who had returned to run her father's funeral home. She seemed a far cry from the angry young woman who used to run around with the MC.

He had been stunned to realize that he no longer viewed her as his old childhood friend's rebellious baby sister. She had grown into an elegant young woman who was dedicated to a respectful career.

He had hopes that perhaps her taste in men had matured as well along with the more sophisticated appearance she'd adopted.

He’d maybe even tried to ask her to dinner or coffee once or twice but she’d rejected the offers. He’d told himself not to take offense to her rejection. He'd decided that perhaps Y/N was going through a difficult time, losing her father and being back in a town she probably was not thrilled to be in.

He had told himself to bide his time and be patient. He had hopes that perhaps she would settle into town and then maybe be more inclined to give him at least one date.

He had hopes that perhaps he could shoot his shot with her again, but had his hopes dashed when she clearly became involved with SAMCRO once again. 

When he’d realized she’d chosen Filip Chibs Telford of all men, Hale had been disgusted. The older Scotsman seemed so wrong for her, and she seemed blind to this fact.

It was kind of insulting realizing she'd turned Hale down and chosen Chibs Telford. Though, Hale had a feeling he'd be insulted if she'd chosen any Son after rejecting him more than once.

It was as though Stahl could read his mind because she spoke all too giddy to pull out another file from the stack. “It seems Miss. Y/L/N still favors a bad boy in a kutte and she still likes her men older. Filip Chibs Telford is an interesting man. He has past rumored ties to the True IRA. He’s been arrested a few times in Belfast, but nothing could ever stick. His wife though…he’s still very much married by the way…is True IRA Royalty. Fiona Larkin is third generation True IRA. She got Telford involved in the cause. They were childhood sweethearts from what I know. The two were living as a married couple for a few years before they had their daughter. They have one child, Kerrianne Larkin Telford. She’s about twelve going on thirteen. Looks like they were a happy little family of terrorists for a few years at least. That changed most likely when one Jimmy O’Phalen rose up in the ranks of the cause. Looks like Jimmy O’ didn’t seem to be a fan of Telford. Rumors have it that O’Phalen scarred Telford’s cheeks and took his family as his own…banished Telford from the cause and Ireland. Telford fell in with SAMBEL…guess he didn’t take the threat to get out of Belfast too seriously though it looks like he only remained in Ireland with SAMBEL for a couple of years…he patched over to SAMCRO right around the Spring of 2000. He rolled into town a few months after Miss. Y/L/N left town…can you imagine if he’d made it stateside a few months before she left…the pair would have found each other sooner. Either way it looks like the pair found each other. I spotted them out and about the other day and by the look of affection I spotted him giving her, I would guess Y/N has been given ol lady status by Telford. She doesn't appear to be sporting the crow ink some of the other ol ladies are, but all the same...the looks he was giving her screamed love…do have to wonder if she knows he’s married.”

She paused watching Hale’s jaw tense a smirk crossing her lips before she spoke again. “She knows how to pick them doesn't she? I bet Telford gives Y/N all sorts of juicy bits of pillow talk…sweet little tight thing like her must make him all relaxed and satisfied enough to get those lips moving. Pussy gets men talking; especially trusted pussy that they love. Judging by the looks Telford gives her around town; he’s dedicated. Given his traumatic past and his appearance, I bet it wasn’t hard to get him dedicated. I have a feeling that Y/N doesn’t have to do much to get him talking. Bet she only has to suck him off to get all sorts of information out of him.”

“She’s not going to say a word, if she is an ol lady, she’s been given the orders on how to handle questions about the club. Even if Chibs is giving her details she won’t betray him.” Hale snapped trying to push thoughts of Y/N and Chibs doing anything slightly sexual from his head, the thought feeling him with both disgust and envy of what the Scotsman managed to have with Y/N.

Stahl shrugged her shoulders as she spoke. “Even if she doesn’t know he’s still married? Bet if we dropped some truth on her about her boyfriend’s current marital status, we might get her pissed off enough to run her mouth. If he betrayed her then well…hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“And if she knows he’s married.” Hale remarked what Stahl was suggesting make bile rise in the back of his throat. Call it a crush or fondness or whatever, but he didn’t like the idea of breaking Y/N’s heart to get information.

“If the tart is fine with being a mistress then I’m sure we can find some other way to get her lips moving. It doesn’t hurt to give her some pressure and see how she handles it.” Stahl provided a smirk crossing her lips at the rage in Hale’s eyes at the statement about Y/N being a tart.

She spoke again, a chuckle leaving her. “Don’t look so gloomy David, this might work in your favor. We get Telford out of the picture and you might just have a shot. Maybe we push her off bad boys, you can play white knight. You can finally put those handcuffs to use with her in a far more pleasant environment. Of course that might put a stop to the fun we’ve been having together hmm, but who am I to stand in the way of true love.”

He scoffed at the comment, his shoulders tensing at the suggestion as well as the implication of what Stahl and he had fallen into.

Stahl let out a sigh. “She can have you when I’m done. Trust me David, we can always press the ol ladies. No information is useless in RICO.”

Hale cringed at the comment, his stomach turning at this plan. 

He took a deep breath, having the feeling that Stahl was in for a challenge. Y/N was a tough nut to crack. 

Pissed off Y/N didn’t run her mouth. She just lashed out.

—----------------------------------------------

Y/N was surprised and relieved to see the roses left on her parent’s gravestones. She could admit she’d not been to the graveside since her father’s burial.

She’d been to the cemetery plenty enough thanks to her work…but she’d not had the nerve to walk over to the section where quite a few of her family were laid to their final rests.

Her paternal ancestors and their spouses were all buried close by one another. The oldest section of the cemetery held her oldest ancestors and their offspring. 

She knew that one day she herself would most likely be buried here alongside her family. There were already two plots at her parents' side that technically belonged to her.

Her father was always one to plan ahead when it came to funerals and had purchased the plots remarking Y/N could keep them for Daniel and herself or if she married and wanted to be buried with her future spouse she could sell her plot.

She had rolled her eyes at the comment about marriage of course. The idea had seemed preposterous given her tumultuous dating history and how most men who might be ideal for a future spouse showed her little interest aside from gazing longingly at her body.

She’d dated a few guys out in New York. She’d even had one pretty serious boyfriend but it had fizzled out before any serious talk about marriage and the future had come to fruition.

She knew her past held her back in her relationships in New York. How was she supposed to explain her past with the MC in Charming to prospective life partners?

She knew her most recent ex-boyfriend had some suspicions about her past…given her tendency to occasionally flinch during moments of intimacy that got a little too rough. She had never worked up the nerve to go into the full story though. She had a feeling her ex had sensed her trauma but had not been equipped to deal with it when she’d shut down any pleas for information about her past.

She was not quite ready to go into her background with that boyfriend. She was certain he couldn’t handle her past. So, she’d pushed him away the same way she did with most boyfriends. Scaring guys and pushing them out with cold behavior was easier than going into detail about her time as a friend of SAMCRO and the pain she’d endured at Gunner’s hands.

Chibs Telford was the first romantic partner who had any knowledge of what Gunner had done to her as well as her past sexual encounters with both Jax and a few other men.

She was stunned by Chibs’ reaction. He not only still wanted her, but had proven to her that he desired her.

It was not an outcome she had imagined when she’d allowed herself to imagine what might happen if she were to ever reveal the darker parts of her past to a man who liked her.

She kept thinking back to the words Chibs had said to her after he’d eaten her out; that he wanted to show her how she deserved to be treated.

It was a new and exciting concept to her; being treated well by a romantic partner.

She hoped that she’d proven to him that she wanted to treat him in kind. She couldn’t help but to think that with his own traumas he deserved to be reminded of how he deserved to be treated as well. 

She’d been more certain that he deserved all the tenderness and adoration on the planet by his reaction to the knowledge that she was planning on going to the gravesite today.

He’d offered to come along with her. He’d wanted to provide her with emotional support when she’d admitted she’d not gone to her parents' gravesite since her father’s funeral.

Y/N could admit she’d been tempted to let him tag along.

She’d resisted the urge to allow it though. She’d told herself that her first visit to the gravesite should be on her own.

Perhaps in the future though; she might let Chibs come with her.

A morbid voice in the back of her head told her it was the most depressing bring the guy you like home to meet the parents' situation, but she shushed the voice. 

She was also overtaken with the realization that she was an orphan now. She had no living parents…so that made her an orphan didn’t it?

A voice in the back of her head told her it was a dumb thought…everyone became an orphan at some point in their lives, so it wasn’t something that was that unique.

She shifted the red roses aside placing the daisies she’d purchased on either parent’s grave.

She had a feeling the roses left on each grave had been Old Charlie’s doing. Roses seemed more his taste than Skeeter’s.

She was not surprised to see that the graves had been well maintained, any flowers that had been left at her father’s funeral being taken away after they’d wilted. The area was clean and polished waiting for her.

She had a feeling that this was both Old Charlie’s and Skeeter’s doing. The men had most likely been out to the gravesite maintaining it until she felt ready to make it out. It was clear that they’d cared enough about her to make it neat and ready for her.

She found herself sitting on the ground directly in front of her father’s tombstone not caring if the dirt below her got her jeans somewhat dirty. It would be a long while before grass grew over the filled in grave. Grass had long ago grown over her mother’s filled in grave given that the woman had died when Y/N was so young.

She sighed, her eyes lingering on her mother’s tombstone for a brief moment. She rarely visited it. Her father had been the one who had gone out to maintain it.

She’d gone once or twice when she was a teenager looking for some maternal connection that she’d craved. She felt foolish for the action knowing she would not find that connection in a cold marble tombstone.

Her mother’s full name was written on the dark marble stone in neat font: Caroline Hope Y/L/N. Beloved Wife and Mother. Her birthdate and death date were written below the inscription. A small dove had been carved into the edge of the stone. It was a simple stone and Y/N had been certain her father had struggled to choose it as he’d planned her mother’s entire funeral.

She’d never quite understood how he’d had the mental strength to embalm and bury the woman he loved, but Y/N assumed that in her father’s mind it was just the last act of love he could give his wife. He’d made sure she was cared for. Y/N could distinctly remember seeing the clothing her mother had been buried in…a modest blue sundress with a white floral print and a pearl necklace. She had only been four then, but somehow her mother’s funeral dress was a core memory that had stuck. Her father had allowed Daniel and her to view their mother in the casket at the funeral. Daniel had run away from it but Y/N had remained staring at the woman. 

She was unsure if she loved or hated her father’s choice of giving her this core memory.

She tore her eyes from her mother’s tombstone, hating to admit she felt disconnected from the woman. Y/N felt a sense of love knowing that this was her mother, but she didn’t remember her clearly enough to feel the sense of grief she told herself she should feel.

She’d always held the thought in; certain it would upset her father. Her mother had been the love of her father’s life. She’d been his first and his last everything.

They’d met as teenagers and were one another’s first love. Her mother’s father had worked the funeral circuit preaching around Charming and surrounding towns and he’d brought his daughter along. Y/N’s father had been the funeral director’s son. 

Y/N’s parents had met for the first time at a funeral. It was not the most romantic meet-cute, but it was her parents. 

Her father had never remarried after her mother’s death. He’d not even dated. He’d remained dedicated to her even in death.

When Y/N was younger she’d hoped that she might be lucky enough to find love that deep with someone. 

As she’d gotten older though she’d become jaded by the concept.

She sighed, staring at her father’s tombstone, the dark marble was simple with her father's name engraved into the stone: Lloyd Oliver Y/L/N. Beloved Father. Dedicated Husband. Respected Mortician. 

The last addition had been her father’s request. Even in death he was proud of his profession.

She felt her throat grow tight telling herself this would feel cathartic even if she was just talking to a marble stone. “I’m sorry I haven’t been out here to visit…I’m actually sorry for a lot of things I’ve done lately.”

She clasped her hands together wringing them, her voice tense. “I can say without any hesitation that if you were still here right now…that saying sorry wouldn’t be enough with what I’ve done. I know how proud you were of our work…how proud you were that I followed you into the work you loved. I’m afraid I’ve sullied it though. You would hate what I’ve done…I fucked it up again, just like I always do. You know me; family disappointment as usual.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, her voice soft. “I’m sorry though, I really really am. I went down a path you’d hate. I got greedy and now I can’t get out of this…the sick thing is I was given a possible way out of it by Filip and I told him no. I am so desperate to burn in the hell of my own making. I…maybe I just like the pain. I think I deserve it in some sick way. How else do you explain why I’m so impulsive? I let the flame burn me and I never figure out that fire hurts…maybe I know it hurts but some part of me likes it. Maybe I’m sick? You did always worry about me…when I was a kid, I was way too interested in your job…Remember that teacher I had in elementary…fourth grade…she thought I was disturbed because I talked about your job so much…maybe I am. I mean what kind of person is so willing to do what I’ve done? What kind of girl prefers the company of the dead because the living scare the hell out of her? Maybe people around town are right about me? I’ve had a few boyfriends in New York tell me I’m not normal. Maybe at the end of the day I’m not right in the head…maybe I’m fucked mentally. How else do you explain the choices I make? I’ve always been quick to anger, too depressed, too impulsive, too starved for risk. I never know what’s good for me. I’ve had nice guys ask me out…back in New York…hell even Deputy Hale tried to take me to dinner pretty soon after I got into town… and I would rather scoop my eyes out with a melon baller than let a nice guy love me. I push people away because it protects me. I go for guys who don’t deserve me…I go for what hurts me. I let someone like Gunner violate me more than once and I stuck around. Maybe my brain is just abnormal.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I always felt bad for you…two bad kids. How could such a nice guy have such bad kids? I used to blame you for it when you’d scold me for whatever crap I had pulled…say that you were too damn nice and that was probably why I was so rotten. I tried to say that maybe if you were less focused on your job and more focused on Danny and me then we’d not have turned out so bad. I know it was unfair to turn it back on you. I think I was parroting the perceptions I heard from people around town though…poor charitable respected Lloyd Y/L/N dedicated to his service to the community but cursed with two ungrateful brats. You were always fighting to keep me out of jail or worse…always dealing with Danny’s health after the accident…always trying to balance the job with making sure your kids stayed alive. I know Danny and I both gave you hell…You died thinking that I was finally done giving you hell…but surprise.”

She let out a shaky sigh, her fingers reaching out to trace the birth and death date on the tombstone. “You died thinking SAMCRO was a thing of my past…you thought your biker whore daughter had finally grown up…I know you’d hate me for calling myself that. You never were fond of my choice in language especially when I used it to degrade myself. I know I always tried to take some high ground and claim that I was nothing like the girls that hung around the MC and threw themselves at anything in a kutte…was I really any better though at the end of the day? I may have been a bit more discerning in who I fucked but…I still liked a man in a kutte and a criminal record a mile long. I loved the danger…I loved the chaos. Nice guys who worked nine to five jobs just didn’t do it for me like the outlaws could. I wasn’t satisfied with a dick unless the guy attached to it had a rap sheet.”

She rolled her eyes, the words leaving her. “I know…just what every man wants to hear about, his daughter’s sex life. I guess you aren’t really here to hear it though…I hope you’re not hanging around watching me that much. That would be kind of creepy if you were just hanging around watching me 24-7.”

She let out another shaky breath as she spoke. “I met someone…Jesus, Daddy, you’d hate Filip. You would take one look at the reaper on his back and kill him on sight. You’d ship me back to New York if you were still here. You would not even give Filip a minute of your time to even attempt to win you over. You would look at his appearance and who he is and want me to get away from him. You’d see the scars on his cheeks and the kutte on his back and that would be that, no chance of accepting him.”

She shook her head, a small humorless laugh leaving her. “I know the age difference would make you less than enthusiastic. He’s forty five years old…just turned forty five. He was about sixteen when I was born. If that wasn’t enough to make you cringe…He’s got a wife and a kid back in Belfast…they’re estranged but they are still there…You’d take one look at those facts and shoot him on sight. I’m sure you’d take me for a fool…your poor damaged daughter hooked up with the married outlaw biker who is way too old for her…and if that didn’t piss you off you’d be so enraged about his past in Belfast even if I’d lie and try to tell you it's only rumors. I know you would just look at Filip and see danger. You’d see a guy who is going to destroy your kid. You wouldn’t think he’s good enough.”

She traced her father’s name, her voice soft. “I know what I’d say to you though. I’d say that he's good enough. I would tell you I don’t care about Belfast or who lives there…The age difference doesn’t bother me. I’d probably try to push your buttons and spit out some bullshit about how I am happy to call Filip Daddy even if he’s not quite old enough for that unless he was a teen dad. I’d probably tell you that a man his age has the experience to know how to make me feel so good, that he’s far more gifted in bed than guys my age.”

She paused, rolling her eyes. “I never was appropriate and I kind of lived to make you cringe back when I was having my rebellious years. I figured out that being vulgar and oversharing about anything sexual could make you back off and not suspect the reality of what I was going through. I was always capable of looking like a proper lady but my mouth and my tendency to love shocking people always ruined the prim lady disguise I wear.”

She cleared her throat, her words genuine. “I would be telling you the truth about him being worthy of me…he reminds me everyday that he wants to be worthy of having me. He’s tried pretty damn hard to woo me. I think even you’d be approving of the effort he’s put into it…the man didn’t run screaming when I told him what a trocar was. That’s impressive, you’d have to admit it. He asks me questions about my job; not to appease me or charm me, but because he wants to hear what I have to say. He’s been good to me. He makes me feel safe. I don’t think anyone has ever made me feel safe…at least not a romantic partner. I’ve never felt this protected with anyone.”

She felt her throat grow tight, spilling more of her heart. “I told him about Gunner…told him more than I even dared to ever tell anyone…even you. Pretty sure he’s the first person besides a therapist who knows all the details. I told him every last detail. He didn't run away like I feared he would. I was sure he’d run…or worse he’d look at me differently…like I am in fact just the biker groupie everyone around town thought I was back then. I was afraid if he knew about Gunner and the others…that he would surely leave. I mean…how is a guy supposed to cope with the fact that some of the men he shares a kutte with have fucked the girl he’s dating…how is he supposed to deal with the fact that one of those men, even if it’s a man in another charter…did what he did to me…I don’t know, I’ve always struggled with admitting what the lack of consent with Gunner meant…saying the word. Filip is the one who said the word…told me how wrong it was…even told me he wanted Gunner dead for what he did to me. I expected my past to be too much for him or for him to develop this weird jealousy issue…you know how guys are when they know someone else has touched their possessions… Filip though, his reaction was to feel sorrow for me…he wanted to show me what being shown love is supposed to feel like…he wanted to protect me and get retribution for what happened to me. He offered to kill for me, Daddy…and he meant it. I know you’d probably not approve of the fact that he’s capable of such a thing…but I’d have to hope that you’d approve of his desire to keep me safe…to love me. Filip doesn’t view me as a possession. I know you’d find that really really hard to believe…men in his world have some pretty fucked views of women. I’m not claiming he’s some abnormality in that world. I just think I’m as much Filip’s as he’s mine though.”

She sighed knowing she was safe to say the words here with no one to listen. “I love him…I love Filip Telford. He doesn’t know about it yet…I’m half afraid to tell him. What if he doesn’t feel the same? I keep thinking of what you’d say…you’d probably tell me that if he’s dumb enough not to love me then he’s too dumb for me. I need him to love me though…it sounds so pathetic to say it…I've never claimed to need anyone to love me...I have always been the type to say that people can love me or hate me and I don't give a damn either way...I like to think I’m independent…that I could go back to life before I met him…I, so much has changed in my life so fast over these past months. I resisted his affections so much when I first met him...I was afraid of what he'd lead me to...of falling back in with SAMCRO. He's made it clear though that he has zero intention of leading me back into the pain that I found with his world...I’m scared of how my life has changed over these past few months, of how things have changed since you died and I came back home, but Filip…he makes it feel so much less scary. I’ve opened up to him so much about my past and I have never felt comfortable enough with anyone to do that. I don't feel so alone with him around. I've never felt that...belonging. I always try to pretend that I don't mind being alone. I try to say that loneliness is just a part of life...Filip makes me want to stop isolating myself...and not accept the idea that I just have to be alone. I have never had that with anyone...the sense that they feel lucky to have me around...the acceptance of me for who I am. I don't have to pretend not to be so morbid or so quick to anger. I don't feel like I have to hide the parts of me that scare other people around Filip. I need him more than he knows. I just keep hoping that maybe he needs me just as bad.”

She shook her head reaching up to wipe at a stray tear threatening to spill from her eye. "I can’t say that you’d be fond of Filip… I can’t say you two would love each other, or even try to pretend to get along…but I think that maybe my loving him would be enough for you…I think me being happy with him would be enough. You always worried about my happiness…about me finding my place in the world. I want to be in his world…it scares me, but I trust that he would keep me safe.”

She spoke again, pulling her hand back from the stone. “I’m going to visit more often…even if you aren’t here, I know you’re not really here…I want to bring Filip sometime. He wants to come with me…to support me. I’m going to let him. I am letting him in…you’d like that…me letting someone in.”

She adjusted the daisies in front of the stone as she spoke. “Even if you wouldn’t be proud of me, I hope you’d still love me. You told me once that a father never stops loving his child. I hope that’s true.”

She stood up, wiping the dirt from her jeans as she spoke. “I love you, Daddy. I’ll see you later.”

She turned ready to make the long trek back to her car hoping that she could maybe get a latte somewhere to perk up enough to make it to the grocery store to gather the items she needed for the week.

She paused as a woman approached her. The professional looking woman was thin and tall with straight dark blonde hair and a pantsuit that screamed Fed. She appeared to be in her mid thirties at least. Her lips were thin and she wore little makeup. She had a narrow straight nose and well manicured brows. Her eyes were dark and they were fixed on Y/N.

She felt a chill run down her spine as the woman approached her giving a calm smile that did not match the intensity of her gaze. “Y/N Y/L/N?”

Y/N nodded her head, her voice tense, she doing her best to appear relaxed and calm. “Speaking.”

The woman pulled a badge from her jacket pocket revealing that Y/N was right to think fed. “Agent June Stahl, ATF.”

Y/N sighed  keeping that same relaxed demeanor as she spoke. “Can I help you Agent Stahl?”

“I’m guessing you aren’t here on business? More of a personal visit?” Stahl asked, nodding down at the dark wash jeans and gray babydoll tee Y/N was wearing. 

Y/N spoke her stomach turning at Stahl’s avoidance of the question. “I’m not here for work.”

She paused speaking again trying to sound more assertive than she felt. “How can I help you?”

Stahl spoke as she shoved her badge back into her jacket pocket. “What do you know about SAMCRO?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at the question. Stahl apparently was ready to jump right into it. She shrugged her shoulders giving the company line Chibs had taught her to give though she’d known the line long before Chibs and she had become involved. “That motorcycle club? Pretty sure they’re just a bunch of mechanics who are motorcycle enthusiasts. Pretty sure they throw a good wild party.”

Stahl smirked at the comment, not surprised by it. “Of course, Didn’t you used to be a frequent attendee of those wild parties?”

Y/N shifted in place, her arms crossing over her chest. “I did use to prefer Jack Daniels to mint tea. Didn’t everyone have a rebellious phase?”

Stahl nodded her head, not missing the chance. “And what a phase it was for you. I have to say I’m kind of annoyed but impressed, Y/N, several arrests under your belt and you served not a moment in a real jail cell. Looks like you got more than a few slaps on the wrist though…guess it helps that your daddy was buddy buddy with the local sheriff.”

Y/N held her head up high fast to respond, keeping her voice even refusing to address how her father had always been willing to appeal to Unser to keep her out of any real trouble. “I am not proud of my past behavior. If I could go back I’d change a few things.”

“Is SAMCRO one of those things you might change? I have taken a look at that rap sheet of yours, sweetheart, looks like the innocent club of motorcycle enthusiasts got you into some trouble back in the day.” Stahl remarked, stepping closer to Y/N.

Y/N stepped back a frown crossing her features. “Like I said, I indulged a little too hard back then…people do dumb shit when they’re drunk.”

“Is one of those dumb things Nathaniel Papadopoulos? Or Gunner…as he seems to insist on being called?” Stahl remarked not shy about bringing up something that she knew would make Y/N cringe.

The mention of Gunner did just that. Y/N crossed her arms tighter, her voice picking up a hint of tension. “I did dumb shit when I drank as much as I did. He was the dumbest. I was nineteen years old when I met him…I wasn’t mature enough to pick romantic partners who were the best for me. Pretty sure most nineteen year olds pick shit men. I wised up and left him. It’s ancient history at this point in my life.”

“What about now? Just what kind of men are you picking?” Stahl remarked a cool smile crossing her lips as she attempted to prod the answer from Y/N.

Y/N sighed fast to respond. “Ones who don’t beat the shit out of me.”

Stahl reached into the professional looking messenger bag she had slung around her arm as she spoke, pulling out a file. “You do pick men with records though. You should have a peek at his.”

She handed the file to Y/N watching as the woman gazed down at it searching for any hint of a chance to pounce. 

Y/N gazed down at the open file in front of her, raising a brow at what was clearly Chibs’ rap sheet. She shrugged her shoulders, keeping her calm not bothering to read past a few lines not shocked by what she saw. “Is this supposed to mean something to me?”

Stahl smirked, nodding her head down at the file as she spoke. “Filip Chibs Telford is an interesting man isn't he…if you believe the rumors around town…I find that most rumors have some truth to them.”

She paused nodding down at the file again as she spoke. “You should flip to page two…the arrests in Belfast. He was court martialed and discharged from the Queens Armed Forces at nineteen. Looks like he had a temper in his youth. The arrests in Belfast continue from there. Pretty sure he got into a few brawls on the behalf of the cause…The True IRA tends to frown upon anyone they think may be a loyalist. Looks like Telford took offense to loyalty to the crown, looks like he was not afraid to fight dirty…then there’s the suspicion of a few bombings that he may or may not have been involved in, can’t get a clear answer on that one. Any investigations went nowhere…There were a few rumors about how he may have taken part in the murder of a Northern Irish police officer but there was never any proof to tie him and his associates to it…speaking of his associates in Belfast…his wife…Fiona, she’s definitely True IRA through and through. Third generation, comes by it honestly. Her mugshot is on page three…she got arrested with her husband for one of those brawls I talked about. She is a fiery one…darker than I expected though for an Irishwoman. Pretty sure she’s the Black Irish we always hear about.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop turning the page on autopilot gazing down at the pretty young woman in the photo and a photo of a young Chibs, his face free from the scars that Jimmy O’ had left him with.

Fiona was an elegant looking woman with wild dark curls and piercing dark eyes. Her nose was narrow and her lips were pressed into a smirk that showed she had no worries about having any mugshot taken. She gave off the energy of someone who was well versed in danger and quite content to invoke it if necessary.

Stahl spoke up, a slight smirk on her lips clearly hoping to strike a nerve. “You did know he’s married right?”

Y/N glanced up at Stahl, her face not giving the reaction the woman was probably hoping for. She kept her cool not letting the information of what Chibs had done in Belfast nor the photo of his estranged wife rattle her. “Yes, I was aware. They’re estranged. Divorce unfortunately is not an option…You know how the Catholics are? I’m afraid I don’t know too much about Filip’s years in Belfast aside from the mundane fact that he was a mechanic and that he left some tragedy behind.”

If Stahl was disappointed in Y/N’s reaction she didn’t reveal it as she replied to the comment. “Yes, a true tragedy. I guess you’ve heard all the rumors that fly around Belfast…Jimmy O’Phalen took Fiona and Chibs’ and her daughter for his own…left Telford with a reminder to not even attempt to get them back.”

Y/N clenched down on the file as Stahl motioned to her cheeks lining them along where Chibs’ scars were embedded into his cheeks. She spoke again, a sigh leaving her. “Telford joined up with SAMBEL after that…Guess he was familiar with the MC before hand, so, they were happy to take him on...even though rumor has it O’Phalen banished him from Ireland…guess the banishment finally kicked in though since Telford came stateside back in 2000. He hasn’t seen Fiona or his daughter since Kerrianne was around four. I’m amazed Telford got citizenship in the states…given his record and the trouble he’s gotten into out here.”

Y/N kept her voice flat as she replied. “America is the land of opportunity.”

“That it is…and what opportunity has he found with you?” Stahl dared to ask a small smile crossing her lips hoping to make Y/N squirm.

Y/N spoke knowing the line to give a hint of snark in her voice, deciding that being vulgar might work in her favor. “I open his beers and suck his dick. Pretty sure most men couldn’t ask for more.”

“And what does he say when you wrap those soft lips of yours around that dick of his?” Stahl remarked, proving she was just as vulgar.

Y/N gave her a smile that she hoped read as confident not above continuing with the line of conversation though she was full of shit…they’d not gone that far sexually just yet. “Pretty sure he’s too busy moaning when I take him down my throat. That Scottish accent of his is hard enough to understand on its own…the second he gets is dick wet I may as well not even try to decipher Glaswegian.”

“And what about afterwards…any juicy bits of pillowtalk? Orgasms tend to make lips loose, I find.” Stahl dared to ask she stepping even closer to Y/N.

Y/N gave her a calm smile, the words sliding from her. “He tends to start snoring after he cums…You know men. You rock their world and they reward you by conking out.”

She paused lying through her teeth deciding that playing up the sexual role would work in her favor. 

It was a game she’d learned to play during her time in the clubhouse…when she wanted to entice a man into giving her what she wanted. 

She found that playing the minx could work in her favor with men and could make straight women intimidated enough to slink back. “I will say that that is the one advantage to getting your rocks off with a woman. Women are a little better at pillowtalk…too bad I like a good thick dick more than a nice wet pussy.”

Stahl smirked giving Y/N a reaction that she’d expected to get if she’d been talking to a man. She sighed, the realization hitting her that Stahl was playing on both teams. She recognized a raging bisexual when she saw one. “I can only imagine…what a shame you have your preferences.”

Y/N spoke as she stepped back, dropping the flirty tone from her voice. “I don’t know too much about SAMCRO. I can’t imagine they’re too interesting. Just a bunch of mechanics who love a good Harley and a crazy party…Like I said, any trouble they may find is usually aided by booze…people do dumb shit when they drink. I’m afraid my party days are over. Most people don’t like the idea of the local undertaker sliding around a stripper pole in a biker clubhouse. Pretty sure Filip would not be too into the idea of seeing me on any pole unless he’s the only one watching.”

“I’ll say it again, what a shame.” Stahl remarked that smirk still on her lips though Y/N did spot a hint of annoyance in the woman’s eyes at the fact that Y/N was still feeding the company line on SAMCRO.

She paused speaking again. “Telford and you make an interesting pair…a funeral director and a biker…just how did you meet?”

Y/N gave her a calm smile, the lie sliding from her lips. “My Acura got a flat tire. We got to talking and one thing led to another. I’ve always had a thing for accents.”

Stahl spoke up, nodding over Y/N shoulder at the gravestones. “You came back to Charming to a big mess from what I heard. Your father left you with some debt?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Y/N remarked her voice cool and collected she snapping the folder she’d been holding shut.

Stahl nodded her head at the comment she daring to bring out the big guns. “I’ve taken a peek at those debts of yours. You paid a little chunk of them off in cash…Just where did you get the cash? The payment was in the thousands. Lots of cash to having lying around with your debts.”

Y/N remembered the lie Chibs had told her to tell. She was relieved he’d given her enough background about Clay and Gemma’s finances, so that she could tell a believable story.  “Gemma Teller Morrow asked for my expertise. Her poor grandson having such a frightful entrance into the world got her thinking about her own mortality. Her husband and she were willing to pay me quite well for my time to discuss plans. They know my time is valuable and they took up quite a bit of it…They were willing to make it worth my while as they kept me so busy and out of reach from any of my other duties at work…pretty sure Gemma has some oil investments that give her some nice payouts. I came to them for the plans…made a trip out to the garage to discuss it all and went through the trouble of bringing all of the catalogs I have. They choose a luxury option for their caskets…mahogany and satin. I don’t do home visits for funeral planning, so they wanted to make sure I was compensated for the exception I made for them. They paid me double my usual rate plus travel expenses.”

“That is an extravagant payout.” Stahl remarked her tone of voice hinting she did not buy Y/N’s tale.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, her voice calm knowing she sounded heartless, but it was better to sound heartless than guilty. “People will pay anything to have peace of mind when it comes to death.”

Stahl dared to speak, nodding again at the cemetery around them. “I would have thought they might shy away from using your services…given what happened to those two men you buried a while back.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh shaking her head. “The grave robberies were an unfortunate incident. The families of those poor men were heartbroken over what happened to their loved ones' remains. I did everything in my power to make sure that they were cared for. The family was far more understanding than they had to be. They know I did my part when it came to the care of their loved ones before their final rests were disturbed. I hope the Lodi police find whoever was responsible for such a gruesome act. If I got my hands on them…well let’s just say I don’t approve of anyone fucking with my paychecks.”

Stahl smirked, hating to admit she was impressed with how quick the response was. Y/N was not an easy nut to crack. “And your boyfriend had nothing to do with those empty graves.”

“Why would Filip have anything to do with it? He’s just a mechanic.” Y/N remarked a small laugh leaving her she managing to make the accusation appear as though it sounded ridiculous to her.

“A mechanic with quite the record. You should hang on to that file, Y/N. Take a good look at it. There’s some really interesting bits of information there. Filip Telford is far from innocent. I think you are smart enough to know that. I am also thinking you aren’t so innocent either…that must be why he’s so obsessed with you. If that wife of his is any indication of the kind of woman he likes…then you are one bad girl.” Stahl remarked, nodding down to the folder still in Y/N’s hands.

Y/N gave Stahl a calm smile shrugging her shoulders. “I’m an absolute angel, Agent Stahl.”

She paused, giving the agent a flirty smile as she stepped around her ready to pass. “At least outside the bedroom. Now, if you excuse me. I have some errands to attend to. If you have any further questions you can find me at the funeral home.”

And with that Y/N found herself heading back to her car the folder she held clutched tightly in her hand.

She couldn’t decide if she wanted to burn the folder or not.

—-------------------------------

Chibs sighed rolling his eyes at Juice as he rounded the billiards table for what felt like the hundredth time. 

He spoke nodding down at the pool cue in the younger man’s hands. “Are ya takin yer damn shot or not? I ain’ got all day, Juicey.”

Juice scowled at the older man, his voice tight. “We put money on this okay? I don’t trust you after last time. I still say you hustled me, talked that damn croweater into distracting me and putting me off my game.”

“Aint my fault yer a shite pool player. I won fair an square.” Chibs snapped back a small smirk on his lips knowing that he had maybe talked the buxom blonde croweater Juice was recalling into helping distract Juice from the game.

It hadn’t been too selfish in Chibs’ opinion. He got Juice laid.

Chibs sighed as his cell phone began to chime he yanking it from his kutte knowing he might as well have a phone call since Juice was nowhere near getting on with the game.

He felt his heart lift at the familiar number as it flashed along his screen. He hit accept call, his voice becoming far more cheery than it had been moments before. “Hen, what are ye doin?”

“I need you, Filip.” She blurted out the comment striking him off guard.

The words were appealing but he was not hearing them in the context he would prefer. Her voice seemed panicked.

She spoke again knowing she sounded paranoid but a voice told her if Stahl was interested in her then who was to say that the feds hadn’t found a way to listen in on her calls. She had little idea how bugging phones worked outside of movies. “I need help with my lamb…seasoning it. You know what to do with lamb.”

Chibs furrowed his brow, thrown off even more by the comment. Y/N didn’t eat lamb.

He’d learned that bit of information when he’d mentioned Half Sack’s vegetarianism to Y/N as well as Gemma’s criticism of vegetarians. Y/N had commented that she was not a vegetarian and didn’t think she would be strong willed enough to be one. She did admit that she couldn’t bring herself to eat veal or lamb though. She had commented that she knew it was stupid as she’d eat the adult versions of cows at least…but she couldn’t get herself to eat lamb nor veal as they were both baby animals. He could remember finding the comment kind of sweet though amusing.

He felt his stomach turn it hitting him she was worried that someone was listening in on the conversation. 

He spoke trying to keep his calm and not fly off the handle at the thought. “Are ya safe, Love? Is anyone following ya? Are ya alone?”

“Yeah, no. You know it. I uh…just ran into someone while I was out…we got to talking as she reminded me of how much a pain lamb is to deal with. I know you know just what to do with lamb. So, I thought I’d call in the expert. I thought I might call Gemma about it…you remember what she told me about lamb back when we met to make those future funeral plans for Clay and her. I figured that you might be the person to go to though.” Y/N remarked still keeping her cool not helping but to feel like a moron for this entire charade.

She had a feeling that Chibs seemed to have caught up on the game though and was intelligent enough to decode what she was trying to say.

He spoke tossing the pool cue he’d been holding down on the table not caring if it scattered the balls and alarmed Juice. “Aye, I’ll be there, Hen. Don’t ya worry Mo ghràidh. I’ll handle the lamb fer ye.”

“Okay, be at my place…I’m headed there now.” She provided saying the remaining words in her head. I love you, Filip.

“Aye, I’ll be there soon.” He replied unaware that she was thinking the same thing he was currently thinking. I love you.

He hung up his cell sending Juice nod as he turned to leave. “Game’s over, Laddie. If Clay asks I’m goin to see my ol lady. Gotta help her with some lamb. Tell Gemma to give me a call. She knows what to do with lamb.”

Juice furrowed his brow as he watched Chibs leave the man not paying him any mind. He spoke to an empty clubhouse completely confused by the interaction. “Lamb?”

—----------------------------------------------

Her lips met his the second he walked in the door.

Chibs let himself into Y/L/N and Sons Funeral Home well past knocking and waiting for someone to allow him entrance.

He’d spent almost every night in the home this past week, so formalites like knocking had been forgotten.

He made his way upstairs nodding to Skeeter, the man giving him only rolled eyes in response.

As soon as Chibs stepped past the sliding door that led him into Y/N’s living quarters her lips met his in a bruising kiss.

He returned the kiss, his hands sliding along her body appreciating the figure he’d been shamefully admiring since their first meeting.

She pulled from his lips reluctantly, her voice sounding frantic now that she was far away from Agent Stahl. “An ATF agent ran into me at the cemetery today. Had some questions for me.”

“Shite, who was it?” Chibs dared to ask, having the feeling he already knew the answer.

Y/N took a deep breath trying to calm her anxieties. “Agent Stahl…fucking bitch tried to push my buttons by asking me about my past…Gunner and some other shit. She was eager to mention your wife…and shit that happened in Belfast. Tried to show me mugshots and your criminal record. She left a freaking file with me and told me to take a look at it so I could learn all about you. She’s trying to make me crack and run my mouth. Pretty sure she thinks that if she makes me afraid of you then I’ll turn and give her enough to go after SAMCRO.”

Chibs clenched his jaw, shaking his head, his hold on Y/N tightening. “What’d ye say?”

“I told her I know nothing about what you were up to in Belfast. I know about your wife and am unbothered by it. I know nothing about SAMCRO. I told her all I do is suck your dick and open your beers…I got pretty graphic on that last detail.”

Chibs smirked at the comment, his hand wandering down her body to give her backside a squeeze he was unable to stop himself. “Aye, ye ain given me that privilege yet, Hen. Probably had to use yer imagination on that one, aye?”

She sighed, shaking her head at the comment though it did make a hint of smile cross her features. “I thought the lewd angle would unnerve her…I have the weirdest sense that it turned her on. Pretty sure I can spot a bisexual from a mile away.”

Chibs rose a brow at the information. He spoke, shaking his head at the comment. “Ye know I would rather hear bout ye gettin a woman hot and bothered if she wasn’t a Fed.”

“I know you would…sadly I’m telling you what I told her…pussy doesn’t do it for me the same way a dick does. I have no interest in muff diving anytime soon, sorry to break your heart.” She commented, not shocked by this line of conversation. He truly was a male through and through.

“Aye, can’t say I’m disappointed…I don’t like sharin.” He remarked, surprising her by the certainty in his voice.

He sighed his hand running up and down her back as he spoke again. “Did ye look at the record? My rap sheet?”

“Not really…She mentioned a bunch of crap you pulled in Belfast. Saw a mugshot of Fiona and you…Stahl loved shoving that in my face. She tried to coax me into looking into the entire file.” Y/N explained noticing the tension in Chibs’ body at the mention of his estranged wife and of Belfast.

He felt his throat grow tight as he spoke again knowing that there was nothing he regretted in that file she was discussing. He had to fear that Y/N might find some things she was not pleased to learn about him…especially during his time with the cause. “Wouldn’t care if ye wanted to look at the entire file…ye probably should know bout the lad yer datin.” 

Y/N spoke so certain of the words that left her. “I know who I’m dating. I’m dating someone who has been so sweet and so protective of me right from the start. I’m dating someone who makes me laugh and as I recall eats me out like his life depends on it…which indicates he’s going to be pretty well versed in doing other things in the bedroom.”

She paused, pressing a kiss to his cheek catching the hitch in his breath at the mention of their bedroom activities. She spoke again, her voice soothing. “I’m dating a man who has known more pain than any human being should ever have to know, but still remains so strong and so compassionate. I’m dating a man who is loyal to his brothers and would do whatever it takes to protect what he believes in. I’m dating a guy who goes above and beyond to look out for me. He rushed all the way over here after I called him ranting about lamb like a nutcase…he offered to kill someone for me because he knows they caused me pain.”

She spotted his hold on her grew tighter at the mention of Gunner. She spoke once again, her lips pressing back to his cheek. “The man I’m dating has listened to me cry over my brother and my father on our first date and didn’t run screaming. He doesn’t care if my job scares the hell out of everyone. He treats me better than I ever believed I deserved. He proves to me each and every day that he wants me to be treated with all the adoration and security on the planet. He makes me feel safer than anyone has ever been capable of making me feel. I know just who I’m dating. I don’t need a criminal record to tell me a thing about him. I know who he is outside of shit he’s done.”

He sighed, his lips sliding along hers relief washing over him. She spoke as she pulled from the kiss her voice soft. “I don’t need a fucking ATF agent to tell me who I’m dating, because I know him better than she ever will.”

She spoke again, her voice firm. “I am not telling her shit. I’m sure it won’t be the last time she tries to press me over this. I know that ATF is up SAMCRO’s collective ass right now. I’m not telling her a thing though Filip.”

“Aye, I know, Hen. I trust ye. Ye did so good, Love. Fuckin gash doesn’ stand a chance with my lass.” Chibs praised her, the comment making Y/N preen somewhat. She was surprised by the feeling. She didn’t think she had a praise kink, but anything was possible.

He pressed a kiss to her lips he fast to speak again. “I want ye to keep tellin her the same thing, Hen. Ye don’t know shite. She ain’ got nothin on ye. She probably thought the fuckin life I was forced from in Belfast was some big secret I was keepin from ye.”

Y/N nodded her head knowing that was exactly what Stahl had been hoping for. She spoke a soft sigh leaving her. “She brought up the empty graves…Kept my story the same as always.”

“That’s my hen. Ye know yer in the clear on that mo ghràidh. Ye’d already be in handcuffs and been carted away if they had shite on that.” Chibs reassured her a sense of comfort washing over at at the words.

She knew he was right. It had been long enough. Lodi had left her alone and she had a feeling the ATF didn’t care about two empty graves when the local P.D. had failed to connect the dots between her, SAMCRO, and those bodies.

She had a feeling the ATF was more interested in the gun running that SAMCRO was secretly engaging in. 

Any pressure Stahl was placing on her was to entice her into slipping up and saying something Chibs had told her in confidence. She knew that the agent was getting nothing from her. 

Y/N would never betray the man she loved no matter how much Stahl irritated her and attempted to intimidate her.

She allowed her lips to slide along Chibs’ , the pair growing lost in the moment. She parted her lips from his knowing that there was only one thing she wanted at this moment that could make this day seem less awful. “I want you to take me to my room and love me so good that I forget all this crap.”

Chibs felt his heart rate increase at the comment, a warm flush of lust spreading throughout him. Was she offering what he hoped? “Aye, is that so? Are ye sure, Hen? Ye want it all?”

She nodded her head stunned at the realization of how badly she wanted this. She pressed her lips to his the kiss feather light before she spoke. “I am so sure. Take me to my room and love me Filip.”

He felt the moan leave his lips as she took his hands in hers leading him from the room to their destination. 

He knew he had every intention of giving her what she was asking for. 

He would give her anything. It was a realization he was quite content with.

[dukeofdelirium]

I don’t think people realize the reality of the allegations leveled against Michael Jackson. Intelligence agencies state that most serial pedophiles abuse upwards of 400 children in their lifetimes.

Big name convicted pedophiles like Weinstein have over 100 proven victims. Epstein had well over 100 as well.

Michael Jackson was friends with hundreds of kids all over the world. All but 5 defend him to this day. All 5 of those accusers have sought civil attorneys looking for money rather than criminal conviction, and no, the 2005 trial wasn’t because the accuser or his mother sought criminal justice. They had already sought a civil attorney which triggered the criminal investigation, the very same civil attorney from 1994 that got $15 million out of Jackson during the first child abuse allegation.

There is documented evidence of extortion from each of Michael Jackson’s accusers, including his 2 posthumous accusers. All of his accusers are also documented perjurers under oath and they also all have repeatedly changed their stories. None of Michael Jackson’s accusers ever contacted the police, either.

There is also no corroborating evidence that exists that can prove that Michael Jackson 1) was attracted to children or that 2) he ever sexually abused a child.

There are judicial findings of fraud against the accuser and his mother from 2005’s criminal trial. They had successfully extorted numerous celebrities before targeting Jackson.

The narrative the media and the accuser’s have spun is that Michael Jackson was a serial pedophile, and each one depicts him as having very different abuse tactics that do not align with one another. If these allegations were truthful, Jackson wouldn’t have had 5 accusers. He would have had hundreds, because he would have abused all of the kids around him.

This man was one of the most heavily investigated people on the planet. He was intermittently investigated by the FBI for 13 years. He withstood FIVE separate raids on his properties with 70+ sheriffs tearing through his home, he was investigated by CPS, as well as by multiple police departments for over a decade.

This is no light thing to shrug off and just say whatever to. That’s an insane amount of manpower spent targeting a single man. And guess what they found? NOTHING! They never found a single SHRED of evidence to support the idea that Michael Jackson committed any crime, and certainly not child molestation.

I urge those of you who haven’t researched the cases to do your research before you speak on it.

You can find all of the court transcripts online for free. You can find the FBI files online for free. You can even watch documentaries MJ supporters have made that have ACTUAL PROOF in them for free online! The proof of MJ’s innocence has been out there for decades.