#Jay doesn’t have a last name yet so he doesn’t have a tag yet

[sunnie-angel]

A Soft Touch (pt. 4)

jason todd x f!reader

link to part 3, series masterlist, ao3 link

summary: jason and reader have their first real date. he starts to open up about himself and his family.

tags: fluff, feelings, romantic tension, pet name (angel)

rated teen | wc: 2.9k

a/n: there’s progress in their romantic relationship!!!! finally!!!! translation notes about Vietnamese dish names are at the end

Jay: Are we still on for Friday? I promise that I’m all healed up.

Angel: I’m sure I can fit you into my packed schedule somewhere :)

Angel: (I’m glad your leg’s better)

Jay: Can I pick you up in front of your building at 6:00?

Angel: Yes!

Angel: What are you planning?

Jay: Dinner, then the lights down by the pier walk if we’re up for it

Angel: I meant more like what should I wear…

Jay: Oh!

Jay: It’s a pretty casual place? What you wear to the coffee shop is fine.

Jay: That’s not to say that you don’t always look nice!

Jay: Wait, do you have any allergies?

Jay: Important question: do you like Vietnamese

Jay: Because I can make other plans if you don’t

Jason lets his head fall to the table in front of him, forehead resting on the table between his arms, phone still in his hands. He doesn’t know how you do it, but your presence still manages to fluster him even when you’re not even there. He’s a little embarrassed at just how quickly he’d started to panic, fingers flying over the buttons. But he so desperately wants this date to be perfect. Wants to make up for making you worry and showing up late. His phone buzzes in his hands, makes him look up eagerly.

Angel: Jason take a breath

Angel: You think I’m always cute, I don’t have any allergies, and I love Vietnamese

Angel: And Jason?

Angel: I’m excited for Friday.

Friday dawns, far too quickly and yet not soon enough. Jason chooses his clothes carefully, but now that the appointed hour is fast approaching his eagerness outweighs his nerves. Another soft Henley and sturdy boots have him feeling prepared for anything. He doesn’t bother with styling his hair this time, it would only get squashed by his helmet. His spare for you is still stowed in the saddle bag of his motorcycle where’d stashed it the night before. It’s as he’s running out the door, driving gloves stuffed in the pocket of his leather jacket that he hesitates, then grabs a scarf off of the coat hook.

He arrives in front of your building early, a full 17 minutes according to the clock on his phone. Jason doesn’t want to rush you, it’s his eagerness that’s caused his early arrival after all. He leans against the cooling bike, flexing his hands in his driving gloves, grounding himself from the noise of the city with the stretch and pull of the leather over his knuckles. A buzzing sensation in his pocket has him fumbling for the zipper to his pocket. It’s an incoming call, and for an awful moment he’s scared that it’s you calling to cancel. It is you, but canceling is the last thing you have on your mind.

“Hello, Jason? Look up.” Three storeys up and two windows left of centre is you, pressed up to the window phone to your ear. You’re grinning widely and waving energetically in an attempt to capture his attention. He raises a hand tentatively and waves back.

“Do you want me to buzz you in? It looks like it’s my turn to run late and I still haven’t finished with my hair yet.” You sound so apologetic, he could never hold it against you.

“You ah, you don’t have to do too much. The helmet will probably flatten whatever you do to it?” He doesn’t want to tell you how to look, but he also doesn’t want your hard work to go to waste.

“Helmet? Jason why didn’t you tell me sooner,” you say exasperatedly. “Okay, I’ll figure something out so it’ll fit over my hair.”

“Oh, sorry?” He says.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be down in a minute.” You speak absent-mindedly and hang up before he can respond.

Before Jason can get too worried, there you are, exiting the apartment complex, white coat flying out behind you. Only a few inches from him you come to an abrupt stop, hair swinging from the change in motion.

“Hi,” you say breathless, rocking back onto your heels, hands clasped behind your back.

“Hi,” he repeats back to you. Jason drinks you in, the soft glow of highlighter on your cheekbones and the gentle scent of your perfume. A piece of hair has fallen from where it was tucked behind your ear. His fingers twitch with the desire to touch. Slowly, ever so slowly, he brings one gloved hand up, giving you plenty of time to move out of the way. You stand, stock still, eyes bright and comfortable in his space. Gently, he tucks the errant hair behind your ear, lingers a moment before letting his hand drop back down to his side.

“How do I look now? Fine?” You tease, even more breathless than your entrance had made you.

“Perfect,” breathes Jason. Your cheeks heat up from the perfect weight of his adoration. The two of you get caught, trapped in each other’s gaze. Time spins out, unspools in perfect seconds and still you can’t bear to tear your eyes from his. The moment breaks as your stomach lets out a very unhappy noise, making you giggle and him snort.

“Sounds like someone’s ready to eat. Let me stow your bag and we can get going.” Your purse disappears into the saddle bag, exchanged for a helmet that Jason helps you put on, careful not to disturb your hair too much. He moves to the bike, easily slinging one leg across to straddle it. He extends his hand to you, and you accept his help, pulling at your skirt so it’s tucked under your legs.

To distract yourself from the solid warmth of him pressed against your front, you say, “Next time Jason, you really need to send me an itinerary. You’re never going to see me look anything but ‘fine’ otherwise.”

“So sure there’s going to be a next time?” He asks, slipping on his own helmet with practiced ease. The helmet helps Jason focus, cutting him off from your perfume and pretty eyes. The world shifts, stops rotating around you and your presence.

“As sure as I am that it’s going to snow later.” Jason kickstarts the bike, engine purring underneath the two of you. He pulls away from the curb carefully, mindful of his precious cargo and the way your arms tighten around his middle. Normally, Jason would enjoy the speed and freedom of the bike, city whipping away from him too fast to process. Now, with you seated behind him, fingers tightening in the material of his jacket, it’s probably the most touch he’s had from anyone outside of combat since he died. It’s making his stomach do strange things, butterflies taking up permanent residence. The vibrations of the engine and the dull roar of the bike pull him back to the road in front of him.

Soon, too soon, he’s pulling up in front of the restaurant. It’s an incongruous looking place, red and white checkered colour scheme like an old Americana diner, but Vietnamese written on the awning. Jason helps you dismount, fetches your purse while you smooth out your skirts. He holds the door open for you, let’s you walk into the warm air of the restaurant first.

The waiter greets Jason with an enthusiasm that makes him blush and rub at the back of his neck bashfully. One minute the two of you are standing in the doorway, the next you’re sitting in a booth tucked away in a corner, Jason’s got the best table in the restaurant apparently. It’s quieter here, the high padded backs of the booth filtering out the noise of the kitchen and the other patrons. The two of you have your own little bubble.

“Bring all the girls here, do you?” You ask slyly.

“Bring all the— oh! No, I helped the owner out with a situation and she offered me a free meal. She kept getting mad at me for doing takeout, insisted that her food deserves to be eaten fresh. Ever since I’ve been meaning to come back because the food’s just that good.” He looks down to fiddle with his gloves. “You’re the only one I’ve brought with me.”

“Good.” The waiter comes by, interrupting your conversation, dropping off a pot of jasmine tea and taking orders. Jason takes the interruption to enjoy the possessive curl of the word, enjoys your satisfaction in being ‘only’. Not paying attention, he rattles off an order for gỏi cuốn tôm thịt to share and phở tái nạm gân for himself when prompted by the waiter.

You pour tea for the two of you, push one cup closer to Jason’s side of the table. You wrap your hands around your own, bring it up to inhale the warm floral scent of the tea.

“So besides saving small time restaurant owners and reading classic novels, what do you do for fun?”

“I like to cook. It’s something my grandfather taught me. It’s a nice memory even if we haven’t spoken in years.” Feeling as though he’s revealed too much, he takes a gulp of his tea.

“Oh I’m sorry to hear that. He was the one that taught you to cook?” You leave the topic open ended, let him decide if the subject is too painful.

A plate of gỏi cuốn tôm thịt slides between you, the waiter leaving as silently as he arrived. Jason gestures for you to take one of the cold rolls first, and you do, getting comfortable with the silence and eager to be fed. He begins to speak as you dip the roll in peanut sauce, continues while you start to eat.

“It wasn’t just cooking. He taught me a lot about being a good man. I still remember his lessons when I make his recipes.” It’s all he can manage now, mentions of Alfred still too raw to examine for too long.

He puts an end to the conversation by stuffing his own roll into his mouth. The upside, the only upside really, is how much more he can appreciate food now that his senses are heightened. The texture of the shrimp and pork, the chewiness of the vermicelli, the freshness of the mint contrasting with the savouriness of the peanut sauce. He allows taste to overwhelm him, a distraction from his own conflicting emotions.

“Thank you for trusting me with that.” He opens his eyes to you smiling at him openly and genuinely. “So what do you like to cook? Do you bake too?”

It’s a much safer topic, and it carries you through the most of your dinner together. Jason’s been experimenting with different bread doughs, still hasn’t mastered the right ratio of sugar and yeast, seasonings and dried fruit. You tell a story about the best bread you’ve ever had, buttery brioche rolls studded with cinnamon baked apples and candied walnuts. He promises to see what he can do, suddenly eager to know what new expressions you’ll make with his creations in your hands.

Both your bowls of phở arrive, steam rising aromatic and thick. Doctoring your bowls to your liking, Jason notices that you add more Thai basil than he does, but less lime. That you hold your chopsticks comfortably, like you’d used them many times before. That you liked to push your bean sprouts to the bottom of the bowl to get them to cook a little faster.

There’s no conversation for a few minutes, only the sounds of happiness and eating. Truly, it’s the best phở you’ve ever eaten. You look up to breathe, and Jason’s looking at you, bowl empty and chopsticks laid across the top.

“Good?” He asks.

“Oh this is the best meal I’ve had in years. Whatever you did to get a restaurant owner to adopt you, keep it up as long as you bring me along.” He blushes, pink bringing out the delicate heights of his cheekbones.

There’s a warm silence as you finish up your meal. Jason takes the opportunity to drink in his fill of you. He leans back on his side of the booth, hands wrapping around his cooling cup of tea. The feeling of a full belly, the warm interior of the restaurant, and your company make him feel something close to the normalcy of his youth. Like this, he doesn’t have to steal glances, can gorge himself on your image uninterrupted. The soft curve of your throat, the gentle slope of your forehead, and the darkened length of your lashes drops of water to a parched man. The knit fabric of your dress looks soft enough not to irritate even his sensitive skin and he wants to know what it would feel like running through his fingers.

With a satisfied sigh, you place your chopsticks down and push the bowl away from you, lean back into your seat and smile. The two of you both agree that you’re far too full for dessert this time. Jason decisively wins the argument over the bill by saying he’d already paid for the bill in advance, days before the two of you had set foot in the restaurant, any leftover value on the tab added to the tip. You mock scowl at him, impressed by his foresightedness but also not willing to be outsmarted for long.

Stepping out of the restaurant is like stepping into another world. It’s cool, wind whipping at your face already, stars already burning somewhere unseen above. Jason steps out behind you, brushing up against you as the door swings shut. You lift your face up and close your eyes, letting flakes of snow melt on your warm cheeks and tangle in your lashes.

“Was right about the snow.” You say, breathing in the crispness of the night deeply. Opening your eyes, you look straight up into Jason’s teal ones. The affection there is breathtaking, splits your face into the softest of smiles.

“So I guess that means there’s going to be a next time?” He’s not nervous now, almost surprised but just how comfortable spending time with you is, even when you’ve moved from new acquaintances to romantic interests.

“Jason, there was always going to be a next time.”

The door swings open, right into Jason’s back, another customer trying to leave. It breaks the moment, the two of you shuffling off to the side with muttered apologies. You give a little shiver as another gust of wind buffets over you, rub at your upper arms to try and chase away a bit of the cold.

Jason steps in front of you, body blocking out your vision. Your eyes pan up from the lovely view of his chest as his hands work to untie the scarf from around his neck. He wraps it around yours, material still warm from his body, taking care to tuck the ends into your coat so they won’t fly in your face when he drives you home.

“I didn’t know that I could hope for so much.” He says quietly. “Let’s save the pier for a night when the wind isn’t trying to blow you away.” Turning away to grab the helmets, he tries hard not to let the infectious joy burning a hole in his chest affect the steadiness of his hands. Pulling the scarf up higher, you bury your face in it, inhale the scent of leather and aftershave.

Jason drives you home safely, insists on walking you all the way up to your apartment. You’ve just turned the key to the front door, before you remember the borrowed gift around your throat. Juggling your purse and keys, you struggle to unwind the scarf. Filled with a sense of daring he can’t name the source of, Jason lifts his bare hands and gently, ever so gently, folds them over yours to quiet them. Your touch burns, the electrifying leap before a grappling wire catches his weight. You inhale in surprise, look up to search his face. Whatever you find there must satisfy you, contents you to continue staring up at him with wide trusting eyes. He’s not sure he deserves the blind faith and tenderness in them.

Your lips part, ever so slightly on an exhale, and Jason wants nothing more than to taste. But the barest chaste brush of hands already has him trembling, weak-kneed and vulnerable at the gift of your presence. Breathing out shakily, he slowly inclines his head to rest his forehead against yours.

His eyes are heavy lidded as he speaks, “Keep it. Return it at the coffee shop on Monday, yeah?”

Your answering “Okay,” is barely a whisper. It’s so intimate like this, faces so close they’re out of focus, breaths shared between lips separated by mere inches. There’s a rightness to it, one that resonates in Jason’s very bones, and he knows he could never give this thing between you up.

The two of you stand there for eternity, caught in this moment of soft-spun affection, the first tendrils of some deep and nameless emotion rooting themselves in the cavities of your chests. With strength he didn’t know he had, Jason pulls back, lets go of your hands to smooth the scarf around your neck.

“‘Night, angel.” Then he’s striding away, down the hallway towards the staircase, long limbs carrying him out of the building.

There’s a buzz in his pocket just as he reaches his bike. Pulling out his phone, there’s a notification for one new message.

Angel: Night, Jay

gỏi cuốn tôm thịt - rice paper rolls with vermicelli, shrimp, pork, mint, and lettuce

phở tái nạm gân - pho with rare beef and tendon

[chicaotaku-fanfics]

There’s Three of You?! Pt. 2

As stated before: no, no one asked me to write this. Yes, I thought about all this. Yes, I’m doing listening excersizes (just like in junior high aaaaaaalllllll over again) for the dialogues.

Warnings: foul language, might be some medical inconsistencies.

CHAPTER 2

I had just parked outside of the 21st District’s Police Department, my brother’s phone in my passenger’s seat on top of my coat. I cozied up before getting out of my car.

That idiot doesn’t lose his head because God was nice enough to super-glue it to his neck.

I made my way inside and notice the woman at the desk, she looks imposing, a woman with authority.

She must be the desk Sergeant.

I made my way over to her, a polite smile on my face.

“Hi, I’m intern Dr. Lillian Halstead… my brother works here.” I say to her, she looks at me, genuinely shocked.

“I wasn’t aware Chuckles had a sister.” she said, I snorted at her nickname for my brother.

“Chuckles? That’s a good one Sergeant…” I read her name tag “Platt. Pleasure to meet you.” I added.

“Pleasure’s mine. So, what did Chuckles do now?” she asked, I pulled out his phone.

“Idiot forgot this at my place last night when he left after watching the game together.” I say, the woman let out a hearty laugh.

“Men and their sports.” she said, then she looked at me again. “Come on, we’re going up through the back, I heard those knuckleheads will be back any minute now.” she said, coming out from behind the desk, asking someone to cover for her and nodding with her head for me to follow.

We went around the back and went upstairs to the locker rooms, we exchanged numbers and she went back to the desk. I heard everyone come back and Antonio comment on the things they’d missed, then Sergeant Hank Voight gave some orders for the guys to go out again.

“Actually, I think I'm gonna do this by myself, O.” said the new guy, Atwater

“Oh hey, everyone, Atwater's been in the unit two minutes and already he's put himself in charge.” said detective Olinsky, Jay had told me about him.

Everyone started clapping and I did too, decided it was time to show myself.

“I’m not even in this unit and I know one of its most important rules.” everyone turned to look at me, even Voight, who had started to make his way to -what I assume is- his office, I had taken off my winter coat and had my lab coat on top of my blue scrubs. Jay looked surprised to see me there.

“And what’s that rule kiddo?” asked the sergeant, I smirked.

“Whatever Sergeant Voight says goes.” I said, he let out a small chuckle.

“Smart girl.” Voight said, then Jay spoke.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked.

“You left something very important at my place last night.” I answered.

“No I didn’t.” he said, I could see everyone following our conversation as if it was a tennis match.

“Yes you did.”

“I would’ve notice it.”

This man.

“Alright smartass, could you maybe call me? I think I left my phone in the car.”

Jay reached to his front right pocket, then to his left, then both his back pockets with a face of pure terror. He sat down, open his drawers and, alas, no phone. I decided to have mercy on him. I pulled out his phone from my lab coat pocket.

He look at it, sighed in relief and walked over to me.

“I guess I did forget something. Thanks.” he said, reaching out his hand for the phone.

“Fully charged and updated.” I slapped his hand away and gave him a serious look. “Please, for the love of God, don’t loose or break it. Remember that I gifted it to you for Christmas last year.” I added.

“I’m not that careless.” Lies!

“Tell that to your previous three phones!”

“Colateral damage during UC ops.” I slapped him behind the head this time. “Ow! Sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t begin to cut it when it comes to that. You know I worry, and yet, you go and still do UC work. You’ll make me go gray before my time!” I exclaimed, I heard some snorts and laughs.

“You brought me my phone back, charged and updated, for that I’m gonna hug you.” he warned me, I shrugged and accepted the hug. “I’m gonna lift you.” I panicked at that.

“What? No. Jay-!” he wouldn’t let me go.

“Ready? On three. One…”

“Don’t you dare Halstead!” I warned.

“Two.”

“I swear to God! Jason!” he ignored me again.

“Three!” and true to his word, his hands went to my hips, and he lifted me, turning us both around. I started laughing along with him.

“Ok, ok, I give. I give! Jay!” I said in between laughs, then he placed me back on the ground, he tighten his hold on me, leaving a kiss on my forehead.

“I love you, you know that right?” he asked me, I snorted.

“I could say the same thing to you.” I said, we pulled apart and I finally gave him his phone. He pocketed it.

“Gonna introduce us to the pretty lady?” asked, who I can only guess is, Ruzek.

“You haven’t told them about me?” I say in a fake offended tone, Jay let out a sigh.

“Drama Queen.” he mutter under his breath, then spoke in a normal voice. “Alright, everyone. This is my baby sister, Lilly Halstead. She’s finishing her internship at Lakeshore.” he said.

“There’s two of you?!” asked Ruzek in disbelief.

“Yeah… and I’m the prettier one out of the two of us.” I say in a stage whisper, he pushes my head to the side, I laugh.

“We’re both good looking. Let’s leave it at that.” he said, I nodded. Just then, my phone ringed. I raised my finger to signal I’d take the call

“Dr. Halstead.” I answered.

“Where in God’s name are you?” it was my attending, pissed.

Shit.

“As I asked you before leaving. I said I had to go and deliver my brother’s phone to him. I’m at his place of work.” I said, taking a deep breath, I could feel everyones eyes on me.

“I never gave you permission to go.” My expression showed my frustration and annoyance.

“Yes you did. If you’d actually been listening instead of checking half of the female interns’s asses-”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that. I’m your attending, and I could very well punish you for that sentence.”

“You gave me permission to leave.” I repeated.

“I did not. I want you back at the hospital. Now.”

“You have no idea who my brother is, do you?” I asked him, done with his attitude.

“No, and I don’t care.”

“You should Dr. Hobber… you should. By the way, how’s your wife? Does she know that you’re cheating on her?” everyone’s eyes, even Voight’s, were as wide as saucers at my question.

“Excuse me? How dare you-?” hes started to defend himself, I cut him off.

“Does she know that you do it with girls who are half her age? And how are your kids? I hear your eldest had a big soccer game last week? Is he still going to go to that private elementary school you bragged about?” I asked him, tone denoting my smirk.

“Halstead, don’t try me, you know I just need to say a bad comment about you and you’re out.”

“You even dare to go after my internship and I swear to God I’ll ruin your life… guess having a CPD detective working in the Intelligence Unit, for a brother does wonders to your observation skills.”

“Wait what? Your brother’s a cop? Halstead-!!” I hung up on my boss.

“And that is how you deal with your jackass of an attending.” I said, everyone clapped, I gave small bows. “Thank you, thank you, but I really gotta go. I bet he’ll want to have my ass for this.”

“Hey, he tries anything and I’ll swing by, badge on full display so he knows to back off. Maybe even add the bulletproof vest.” Jay said.

“Even I can pay you a visit.” Voight said, we all turned to him, shocked.

“Really?” asked Erin, my brother’s partner.

“Yeah. Put the fear of God in him. Show him no one messes with one of our own.” I was impressed by that.

“Thanks guys, I really appreciate it, but I have a folder about yay big with all the evidence of this guy being the worst kind of scumbag. It includes pictures, testimonies, forwarded screenshots, and a recorded phone conversation transcript between him and one of the girls who wants him out, pretty much everything to get HR to fire him.” I said, giving an estimate size with my fingers. Jay side hugged me and kissed my temple.

“That’s my girl.” he said, I smiled.

After another quick hug and promises of a drink later that day, I left the precinct back to the hospital. As soon as I parked back at the hospital staff’s parking lot, I took out the folder from it’s safe place.

“Show time.” I said to myself and walked inside, straight to the administrator’s office.

Tag list: @escapingrealtiylovinginsanity

[sybilius]

🎁💡💌

💡How many WIPs do you currently have?

Depends on how to define "in progress"! With a measured definition, two suppose! The FinJay fic, which I'm working on actively, and more Ren/Yota fic, which hasn't gone anywhere specific yet but I do add thoughts to semi-actively.

For a more generous definition of "intend to write, maybe" you could also include the longer Jay-focused Bullet Club character study, and a moody, somewhat silly Okada and Jay going fishing WIP I have outlined.

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

Of the typical named tropes, I do love to sneak a hypothermia fic in there. Haven't found the right one for wrestling fic, but I'm sure it will come up ;D

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

Sure! Here's the last segment I completed in the FinJay fic doc:

So they stop tagging.  There’s lots to do as young lions, of course. Lots to exhaust you, work your body till it’s numb, warm the crowd up, slip over, under, out of Jay’s grip, but never quite get purchase.  God, Jay is quick, keeps getting quicker. Gets up faster, even after the shotgun dropkick that Finlay fancies he’s finally gotten right.  That doesn’t get him the pin.  Neither do the dirty brawling tactics his father would have frowned at, fingers tearing at Jay’s nose.  Figures though, the way Jay encouraged him to try that.  Then it’s Jay’s shotgun dropkick laying him flat, Jay’s legs pinning him to the ring post and raining blows he can barely think through to his head.   He gets one good kickout, rallies, even manages to get Jay on to his shoulders – doesn’t stick the landing. And then minutes later, he’s fucking twisted, back in white hot agony, Jay’s boot on his neck, hand flailing, desperate–  The match doesn’t even cross the ten minute mark.  Yeah, they stop tagging, and instead, Finlay loses to Jay. A lot. 

[toomuchdickfort]

I made a post abt this one too but wanted to wait till I could reread it to see if I’m ok w it before I posted it

[Jay finds things. It’s what he does. It’s what he’s always done. So it’s not much of a thing when he adds a new artifact to his list- it’s just part of work. Sometimes artifacts are in strange places, or sometimes his visions aren’t entirely straightforward. But he gives the hints he can.

When someone takes him by the arm and just about drags him from his card game, it throws him off, to say the least. And when she starts interrogating him, she keeps her voice too low for him to really process past the sounds of the room around them, and she starts getting visibly upset that he’s not answering.

When she grabs him by the jaw to make him look back up at her, a part of him wants to laugh at it… but damn, it hurts. And when the next words out of her mouth are “What do you know, little man”, he almost laughs anyway.

But he catches a glint of something, behind the lace of her mask. And as he looks, he finds himself leaning in, just a little, before his vision is overtaken.

He sees a dark pool, in a cave at the base of a cliff, that refuses the sunlight that falls onto it. Distantly, there are lights. Colors in the void.

He sees potential in it.

The woman shakes him hard enough to break his focus, and she opens her mouth to ask him again, but he squirms out of her grip, and very nearly crawls away.

He’s finally found something that’s caught his attention, and he wants to be there to help retrieve it. But first, he needs to record what he’s seen before he forgets it.]

@highladysith @becnw @french-fry-0 @mauchi--mochi @bittersweet-and-verygay @king-bubble @softichill

[scuttling]

If I Should Linger

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,979 (what is wrong with me??) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Best Friend's Dad Hotch, Confident reader, Flirting, Oral sex, Protected sex, Dirty talk, A little angst with a happy ending Summary: Your best friend stands you up at the bar, but it actually turns into the best night you've had in a long time—maybe the best night of your life. Unfortunately, things don't stay uncomplicated for long... *Requested by @hotforhotchner11 Link to A03 or read below! “I can’t believe you stood me up to have sex with a frat boy,” you hiss into your phone from your seat at the bar. Your best friend Julie—better known as Jay—is on the other end, and she’s completely ruining your plans for the evening at later than the last minute. She’s never on time for anything.

“He’s not a frat boy… yet. He’s rushing.” You pick up your gin and tonic to take a sip, but her comment makes you pause.

“He’s rushing? How old is he?” The breath she blows out before she answers tells you everything you need to know. Goddamn cradle robber.

“Twenty? Or, almost twenty.”

“Oh, you nasty girl. He’s nearly ten years younger than us.” At 28, you literally could not imagine being interested in a 20 year old. Anyone under 25 is practically an infant; what would you talk about?

“The pussy wants what it wants, babe. It’s more fun when they barely know what they’re doing.” Then again, you figure, she isn’t exactly doing much talking.

“That’s gross, Jay.”

“Is it any grosser than your thing for older guys? You’d fuck my dad if I let you anywhere near him, which is exactly why I don’t.”

“I would not fuck your dad—actually, what does he look like?” She groans down the line and you laugh. “I’m kidding. I’m trying to fuck someone’s dad tonight, but not yours.” You hear a choked laugh from beside you and you glance over at, objectively, one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen: he’s Black, bald, muscular, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a killer smile, and apparently your thirst for older men amuses him. You smile back. “Jay, I have to go; I’m embarrassing myself in public.”

“Okay, and what else is new? Bye!” When she hangs up, you lock your phone and turn to face the man at the bar.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget people are actually listening in places like these; there’s so much talking it’s all kind of white noise to me.”

“It’s kind of my job to listen to what no one else does, but I forget to turn it off sometimes,” he says, and no, that’s not intriguing or anything. “So you’re into older guys?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you lean in with your chin in your hand, elbow on the bar.

“Almost exclusively. You don’t look old enough to be someone’s dad, but I’d probably make an exception.” He laughs again; he doesn’t have a drink, so maybe he’s waiting for the bartender, but you sip yours.

“I’m flattered, but taken. I have a friend who’s probably your type; he doesn’t do one night stands, though. He doesn’t really do anything. We’re trying to loosen him up.” You hum thoughtfully, take a cursory glance around the room.

“I happen to be great at loosening older men up. Is he here?” He shoots you a smile, looks at you like you kind of amaze him.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Would you, if you weren’t taken?” He nods a little, like you’ve got a good point, and you both laugh. “Yeah, it’s a double standard. If you can walk up to a woman and ask her if it hurt when she fell from heaven, why can’t I walk up to an older man and ask if he believes in love at first sight, or if I should walk by again?”

“That tired line would not work on my friend,” he says, and you grin.

“I think you’d be surprised. But, you know him better, so why don’t you just invite me back to your table, since I got stood up by my friend and I’m all alone, and let me do my thing?” You swirl your straw in your drink, try to look flirty, and he leans in on his elbow like you did before.

“You know what? What the hell. If nothing else, he gets some attention from a pretty girl and maybe it boosts his confidence.” You smile—you like this guy already.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He rolls his eyes, and then the bartender presents him with his drinks. You take two—one is a neat bourbon, that has to belong to the older man friend—and follow him to his table while he just shakes his head.

“Looks like you brought back more than drinks,” a pale woman with dark hair and bangs says with a smile when the two of you approach the table. He hands her one of the beers, takes the cocktail from your hand and gives it to a petite blonde with fair skin.

“Her friend bailed on her and we got talking at the bar, so I invited her to come sit with us.” You introduce yourself to the group, and the friend Derek mentioned might be your type? Egregious understatement.

He’s everything you like in an older man: polite, well-spoken, handsome, clean shaven, with a great head of thick, dark hair—he’s wearing an expensive watch, a goddamn suit, a tailored suit that fits him perfectly, and if Jay were here, you’d be catching her attention and panting like a dog, with your hands up near your face.

To someone without your more refined palate for older gentlemen, he may look like an average white guy in his early fifties, but you have to look down to make sure your panties haven’t dropped involuntarily. Just in case.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask, gesturing to the one next to him, and he shakes his head, pulls it out for you before he sits back down—yes, he stood when you approached the table. Manners, check. You’re trying not to drool.

You smooth out your skirt before you take your seat—you always dress for the man you want to attract, and tonight is no exception, so you’re wearing a black lace dress and nude heels; the dress is fitted, but not clingy, and not too short, and you know the right kind of man will find it appealing. So far, your handsome potential love interest Aaron seems to be looking respectfully; that may change, but you’re happy to see it, for now.

“So Derek mentioned you’re all in the FBI; are you the boss? You look like the boss,” you say with a playful smile, and Aaron looks a little nervous when he nods, makes eye contact.

“Until someone decides to overthrow me,” he jokes, deadpan, and your smile gets brighter. Dry sense of humor, check.

“I’d like to see them try; I definitely sense that you can handle your own.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Derek hiding a smile behind his hand. He knows you’re flirting, even if no one else does, and another reason you hope to take Aaron home is so you can wipe that smile off his face—but mostly because Aaron’s gorgeous, and you know it would be a very good time for the both of you.

“Let’s play darts,” Derek says to the other people at the table—you can’t remember their names at the moment, all your attention focused on Aaron—and they get up and walk over to the board, so it’s just the two of you.

Aaron clears his throat. “Thank you. What do you do for work?”

“I’m in publishing; a copy editor. Mostly Tom Clancy type action novels, and romance novels. Lots of heaving bosoms and cries of overwhelming pleasure, you know?” You take a sip of your drink through the straw, looking over at him as innocently as you can. He’s a little flushed; you’re a huge fan of that look on a man. “Do you ever read romance novels?”

“Uh, no. Not my genre.” He takes a sip of his drink, and you watch his mouth while he does.

“Not mine either. When you edit enough of them, they become wholly unsexy… and they never compare to real life.” You flick your eyes over his body, briefly but not subtly, and he gives you a glance back. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest. “So what do you like to read? Wait, may I guess?” you ask, setting a hand on his arm. He nods, and you carry on, leaning just a little closer. “So I’m going to guess you’re a fan of the classics, novels you’ve read a hundred times. I think you would tell me your favorite is To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say, tapping against his sleeve, “and maybe intellectually it is, but you actually feel more when you read Moby Dick. I bet your heart yearns for adventure—not that life as a crime solving FBI agent is boring, but it's all too real. Moby Dick is the perfect blend of adventure and fantasy for a man like you.”

“You’ve known me for all of ten minutes,” he says with a raised eyebrow, and you shrug and take a drink.

“True. But am I right? Or close?” He smiles, the first full, unguarded expression he’s given tonight, and you feel awesome for making that happen.

“My favorite book is Moby Dick. I make a point to read it at least twice a year. You’re good.”

“Thank you.” You pull back, take your hand off of his arm; you’ve laid the groundwork for touching, and he’ll have to make a move if he wants more. “People often tell you a lot they don’t intend to, and books are my thing, so it’s easy for me to connect the dots. I recommend books to people as a kind of party trick.” You stir your drink, and he shifts a little, sitting closer.

“Have you disappointed many people with your recommendations?”

“Oh, I make it a personal mission to never leave anyone disappointed,” you say, your voice low and sweet like honey. His eyes move to your mouth. You sweep your tongue over your bottom lip. “Derek said your friends are trying to get you to loosen up; can I ask why?” He flicks his eyes up to yours, frowns a little, like he’s not sure that’s something he’s ready to tell you; ultimately, he just sighs.

“I’ve been divorced for five years, alone for five years. They think it’s time I…” He trails off, shrugs.

“Get back in the saddle?” you offer, and he laughs lightly, agrees. “Is that something you’re interested in? You shouldn’t feel pressured into it if you’re not ready.” You might want to sleep with him so badly it’s sickening, but not at the expense of his well-being.

He exhales deeply and lifts his arm to rest it on the back of your chair; you want to smile, but the conversation doesn’t call for it, so you hold off.

“I think I’m ready, but how do you really know?” You turn toward him a little more, lean against his arm; it feels easy, comfortable, almost like a real date and not you flirting like your life depends on it and hoping to get a bite.

“I think you should wait to meet someone who makes you feel a spark, and then explore it. Maybe it burns hot, but doesn’t last. Maybe it’s a slow burn. Maybe it’s a bit of both. I think when you’re really ready to put yourself out there, you’ll know.” He holds your gaze, wets his lips, takes a breath.

“You’ve been flirting with me.” You do smile a little, then.

“Yes, Aaron, I have.”

“Did Derek put you up to it?”

“Absolutely not.” You touch his arm again, gentle, lean in close. “I’m genuinely interested in you. You’re everything I’m attracted to in a man.” His smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Old and uptight?”

“Older, and kind, and capable of having a conversation about more than just sports and money, and handsome. Very handsome.” You lift your fingers from his arm, brush them through his hair over his temple. “I feel a spark. Do you?”

“Yes,” he breathes, and when you set your hand on the table, he covers it carefully with his. His hand is big, warm, softer than you’d expected, and you’re met with the sudden urge to feel it all over your body. “I feel a spark.”

“Good. Do you want to come home with me tonight? No strings attached—just to get you back in the saddle,” you say with a tilt of your head, and he nods.

“I want to.” You’re certain that the smile that crosses your face is softer, inviting, but you get the feeling he won’t kiss you while his friends could be watching. You’re actually surprised he’s touching you so openly.

“Okay, so why don’t you give me a ride home? I was going to have to call an Uber, since my friend didn’t show up, but you’re a gentleman, aren’t you? You wouldn’t let me do that.” He catches on to what you’re saying, the excuse you’re giving him to give his friends, makes a noise of understanding.

“Of course. I wouldn’t rest not knowing you made it home safely.”

“I’m not sure how much rest you’ll be getting tonight,” you murmur, and you rest your free hand on his thigh under the table, squeeze a little. He’s very firm, and you kind of melt. “But that’s a very sweet sentiment, Aaron. Are you committed to staying here much longer?”

“Not at all. Would you like to leave now?” You hold his gaze for a moment, want to be really sure about this; you’re no expert on body language, but you’ve been here before, and he really does look less tense than when you first showed up, more comfortable and open. All really good signs.

“Yes, please.” He squeezes your hand, then stands, smooths out his jacket, and tells you he’ll be right back while he goes to say goodbye to his friends. You stand too, finish what’s left of your drink, and pull out your phone to text Jay.

Taking home the most incredible man. Guess I don’t need my wingwoman after all.

J: Tell grandpa I said he better treat you right.

Please. He’s not that old. If anything, you can call him daddy. :P

J: You can call him daddy. Have fun ;) The ride to your apartment starts out quiet, but you try to fill it by asking Aaron more about himself. You keep your hands on him while you chat, leaning as close to him as you can while wearing your seatbelt, running your hand up and down his leg, over his arm while he shifts gears. You know it’s turning you on, and you’re fairly certain it’s turning him on as well.

You learn more about his job, that he basically solves crimes by judging people, which is kind of funny; before that, he was a lawyer, which you can definitely see. He has one child, a daughter who’s upset with him because of the divorce (someone’s dad, check), and a brother who lives in New York, no living parents. It’s more information than you usually get out of someone you plan to sleep with, but you really do like him, and since he’s not the one night stand type, you think more conversation is the right way to go.

He asks about you too, about your family and your job and your lame friend who bailed on you, and when he arrives outside your building, parks in the lot, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean in closer, smoothing a hand over his waist.

“I’m really glad I met you tonight,” you breathe, looking up at him, and he puts his hand on your cheek and you meet for a slow, easy kiss. “Hmm. I knew you’d be good at that.”

“I knew you’d be good at that, too. You have the most beautiful lips.” He brushes his fingers over them, and you take his hand, bring two of them into your mouth to suck softly. His breath hitches, and you feel your panties getting damp. God, he’s gorgeous. “Let’s go inside,” he whispers, and you slip his fingers out, drop a hand to his lap where he’s—oh, so perfectly hard it’s unreal.

“We could get started out here, have a little adventure,” you say playfully, fully prepared for him to say he’d rather not, but he just licks his lips and looks at you like you’re going to be the death of him, but at least he’ll die happily. That’s another look you’re a huge fan of on an older man.

You undo his belt, his button and his zipper, pull his cock out of his pants; he’s of average length, thick, makes your mouth water, and you lean in to use that to your advantage, getting him wet with your saliva and then stroking him in your hand. You look up at his face, and he’s got his eyes closed, head back against the headrest—so fucking sexy. You reach your free hand under his shirt, where he’s hairy, strong, but a little soft, just the way you like it, and he opens his eyes and pulls you close for a kiss that’s a bit harder than the last.

“You’re absolutely perfect,” he sighs against your lips, and you press closer for another kiss. You almost regret the adventure comment now, because you want to undress him, and touch him, feel him all over, but you’ll just have to be patient. (That’s never been your strong suit.)

“Are you kidding? You are… everything. If I could build a dream man, he would literally be a copy of you.” He makes a sharp, self-deprecating sound, and you lean down to get him wetter, move your hand a little faster. “I’m completely serious. I’m a little upset I’ve been going to that bar for so long and our paths never crossed.” One of his hands moves to your hair, and he pulls you close for a kiss; he’s ready to come, you can tell, and you want him to more than anything, so you cover his hand with yours and dip your head, sucking his dick like you’re desperate for it. When it comes to Aaron, you’re kind of desperate for everything.

“Oh, god. That feels so good, baby.” You moan at the pet name—is there anything better in the world than an older man calling you baby? Maybe just Aaron specifically calling you baby—and he tightens his fingers in your hair while you glide over him, tight and wet, until he comes in your mouth.

You swallow it down, pull off breathless, and then swipe your tongue over him so he’s clean enough that you can tuck him back into his pants. You look up at him from his lap, and he’s panting too, rubs his fingers over your lips, your chin, down your throat. You’re desperately horny now, soaking wet, and when you shift to sit up, he catches you for a deep, steamy kiss, and that does nothing to help your situation.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and ugh, your heart flutters. Seriously, who created this man? He’s incredible. “Now let’s go inside so I can make you come, too.”

“Definitely,” you agree with a nod, and you kiss him once more before pulling back and climbing out of the car, straightening yourself up. He does the same, then walks over to you, takes your hand, and follows you into your apartment.

Sex with Aaron is… talk about adventure. He fucks like—well, like he hasn’t done it in over five years. As soon as you get inside the door, he gets on his knees, pulls your panties down, lifts your skirt up, and eats your pussy with such enthusiasm you come with your hands in his hair, rocking against his face, in less than three minutes. Seeing him down on the ground in the full suit, just going to town on you, is not an image you’ll soon forget, that’s for sure.

After that, the two of you stumble to your bedroom, hands all over each other, tugging at zippers and discarding clothes—he has you keep your shoes on, and that makes you feel slutty like a porn star, and super hot—and you kiss, touch, moving your hands all over each other's bodies until he’s hard again. You stay in missionary, and after he slips on a condom from your bedside table, he slides into you, kisses your lips and your neck and your shoulders while he rolls his hips against yours.

It’s slow and sensual at first, and you drag your nails lightly across his back, tilt your head when he nips at your throat.

“Aaron, oh. You feel so good,” you breathe, scraping your fingers through his hair, and his thrusts get a little deeper, his kisses a little rougher.

“You’re incredible. So gorgeous.” He moves a hand to your breast, massages it while your bodies work; you hitch your legs up higher, moan, and pull him closer, your hands on his body, and he fucks into you more frantically, humping against you hard, wildly. You’ve never really gotten fuck you like an animal, but that’s kind of what he’s doing, and you’re into it, clinging to him, pushing into his thrusts like it’s possible to take him deeper than you are now.

God, he’s going to spoil you, ruin you for all other men. You’re going to have your best sex at 28 and then be chasing this feeling the rest of your goddamn life. It’s both amazing and horribly unfair.

“Yes, Aaron, yeah. Fuck me hard, fuck me deep.” He groans, pounds inside you, moves his hand from your breast to the back of your neck and stares down into your eyes while he absolutely destroys you. You come clenching around him, pulling his hair and digging your nails into his shoulder, and his mouth comes crashing down for a kiss while he thrusts through it and then stutters, his orgasm right behind yours.

You sag against the pillow behind your head, and he puts his weight on you, hand still clamped around the nape of your neck, and breathes hot against your throat.

You stare up at the ceiling, catching your breath, and thank fucking god Jay stood you up tonight. Aaron is very sweet, kissing you and holding you, murmuring against your skin, and the two of you go to the bathroom, get cleaned up, and then raid your kitchen for snacks, talking easily and laughing. He doesn’t look like he’s about to bolt, which you’d been a little worried about; in fact, he actually suggests taking your snacks back to bed, jokes about not getting any crumbs on your white sheets. Never one to kick a man out abruptly after sex, and especially not a man like Aaron, you agree, and you end up in bed again, which means…

Another frantically torn condom wrapper later, and you’re on your stomach, your nipples rubbing against the sheets. Aaron’s hands are on your ass while you work yourself on his cock, rolling your body, moaning desperately like you aren’t already two orgasms deep; his dick hits just right, and between that and the nipple stimulation you’re coming fast, bucking hard against him so he’ll follow.

“Fuck, baby, coming already?” He tightens his grip, slams inside you, plants one hand on the bed to change his angle a bit. “Let’s try for another; your body is so perfect, built for sex, built for me.” You groan, roll your eyes back because his dirty talk is hitting the spot, and the two of you fuck together, noisy and eager and hot, until he shudders, squeezes your ass hard and starts to come.

You’re so close, right on the edge, and you sound wild because of it, your moans high, whimpering, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you beg, grinding against him, and he puts both hands hard on your hips, rails you into the bed.

“I’m not stopping until you come for me. Come for me,” he murmurs, and he wraps one hand around the front of your body, rubs your clit, and you climax, squeezing your eyes shut, seeing stars. You moan his name, drop your hand to cover his where it rests against your pussy, and this time when his body drapes across your back like a weighted blanket, you sigh and close your eyes.

He kisses your back and shoulders, runs his big hands over your hips and ass, then slides off and guides you to the edge of the bed, lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom. You think absently that you could get used to being treated this well, and you must say it, because he presses a kiss to your lips and whispers, “I will if you let me.”

There’s a little talk in bed, after you’re cleaned up and cozy beneath the comforter, about going on a real date; Aaron seems nervous, like he thinks you won’t go for it, that all you wanted was this night of sex. And yes, while that’s typically your MO, something about Aaron is different. He makes you want more, things like dates and picnics and sweet lovemaking at night and kisses—all the kisses, everywhere, all the time.

You ask him to stay, and he promises he will, and you fall asleep in his arms. It’s the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

You wake up to Aaron’s sleepy, handsome face, and you kiss and smile into each other’s lips, because last night was great, but this is even greater. Your plan is to take a shower together and then go out for breakfast, but there’s a knock at your door just as you’re planning to step in.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” you tell him with a kiss, and you pull on your robe and peer through the peephole, then pull the door open. “Well, well; now you decide to show up.”

Jay steps in with a box of doughnuts and two cups of coffee, looking properly shamed.

“I know, I’m a horrible friend. I broke the slut code: stay slutty, but never at the expense of your best girl.” You crack a smile, because you could never really be mad at her, but especially not after last night. You’re about to say that, but she looks over your shoulder at the clothes still strewn about your living room and grins. “Holy shit. Is your old man still here?”

“He’s not an old man, and yes, he’s in the shower, so shut up.” She shoves the doughnuts and coffee carrier into your hands and brushes past you, toward your bedroom, and you groan. “Jay, no, come on.”

“I just want to get a glimpse of him,” she says, peeking her head into your room. She sees more clothes, and the condom wrappers, looks back at you with a cocked eyebrow. “Okay, someone had a good time last night.”

“Yes, it was fucking incredible. He’s a sex god, I’m not even kidding. He ate my pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in months, then fucked me twice, so hard and sexy, and then he asked me if he could take me on a date, Jay.” You smile wide, can’t help it. “I really like him, so I actually owe you for not coming out last night.” She smiles back, pulls you close for a hug, and you step back with your hands on her shoulders. “So thank you, and thanks for coming to apologize, but can you please leave? I really don’t want to miss out on some potential good morning shower sex.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s all from a place of love, and she turns to head out of your room.

“Okay, but only because cockblocking you would mean breaking the slut code again, and I can’t have my membership card revoked. I have a date with the almost frat boy again tonight.” She grins, and you shake your head, pull off your robe when you hear the door shut and head for the shower.

Good morning shower sex has never been so good. One month and twelve dates later, and you’re head over heels for Aaron. He is so sweet, and smart, and secretly funny, the perfect gentleman when you’re in public and an absolute manic in private, and you seriously could not have imagined a more perfect man.

Jay is maybe a little tired of hearing you talk about him.

You’re out for breakfast on a Saturday morning—Aaron is on a case in Indiana, or you’d probably be with him—and she sighs around a bite of french toast.

“I get it, he’s the best lay you’ve ever had in your life. He makes your pussy wet and your heart horny, or whatever. When do I get to meet the old man who’s got you wrapped around his big sexy fingers?”

“He’s supposed to be home tonight, maybe I’ll see if he’s feeling up to drinks?” Sometimes he’s really worn out after these cases, and you don’t blame him, but occasionally they must touch him in a way that makes him want to enjoy life, because you’ve had some nice dates the same day he gets back. You’ll ask, and if he’s not up for it, you’ll reschedule.

“Ooh, yes. I can’t wait to finally get a good look at the hunk who turned my maneater best friend into a monogamous whore.” You gasp, affronted, and she cackles, takes a sip of her iced coffee. Sometimes you can’t even remember why you’re friends—but she never fails to do something completely unexpected and sweet that reminds you eventually. “Hey, maybe now that you’re obsessed with this guy, you can finally meet my dad, since I don’t have to worry about you trying to suck his dick at first sight.”

You know that Jay’s relationship with her dad has been a little rough since her parents split up, and you’ve always thought that maybe you could get her to open up to him, to talk to him, if you could get to know him, but her fears about your taste for older men have always been hilariously real. As if you can’t control yourself; as if you’d ever actually date her dad.

“Well I’ll have to ask my old man; maybe he’s down for a threesome?” It’s her turn to act offended, and you laugh and send Aaron a text about this evening before you forget.

Can’t wait to meet the infamous Jay, he replies, and you won’t lie, you’re feeling really good about your two favorite people finally getting to know each other.

That night, you and Aaron beat Jay to the bar, because of course you do—that bitch is never on time for anything.

You’re feeling cute in a sexy turtleneck dress (the neck of which Aaron tugged down to place a hickey under when you rode him on the couch before coming here) and a set of earrings he bought you—you’re wearing a set of lingerie he bought you, too for later—and he looks gorgeous in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

You can barely keep your hands off of him, squeezing his thigh, kissing his neck; you only give him an inch of space when he gets up to run to the restroom, and even then, the way he smiles and presses his lips to yours before he goes makes you want to cancel drinks and take him home so you can be alone.

But Jay asked to meet him, and you have been a little obsessed lately, so you want to do this and make her happy.

You look down at your phone, ready to hit her with some inflammatory where the fuck are you??? texts, when she drops into the seat Aaron had just vacated, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry. Traffic was really bad, and I got into this huge fight with my mom on the phone...” She pulls off her jacket, drapes it over the back of the seat.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, concerned. The two of them usually get along pretty well.

“Yeah, she’s just pissed because my dad has a new girlfriend—which is stupid, because she’s the one who wanted to divorce him, so why does she care? But anyway, I told her I’d meet her and be nice to her, because it’s important to him, and she expects me to take her side or something. I don’t know. Let’s just say I’m really glad I’m out for drinks with you and your old man so I can forget about my problems for a while.” She takes a deep breath for practically the first time since she started talking, then looks around, realizes it’s just the two of you. “Hey, where is he, anyway?”

“Restroom,” you say with a smile, but something more must creep onto your face, because she rolls her eyes playfully.

“And you didn’t follow him in there for a little stall action?”

“Ew, no. That’s more your speed than mine; we had sex before we came, anyway, look at this hickey.” You pull the neck of your dress down and she whistles, impressed.

“Congrats on having such good pussy, babe. I know you’re sickeningly obsessed with him, but it looks to me like he’s got it bad for you too.” You grin, instinctively want to gush over him, but you see him walking over out of the corner of your eye, so you hold off.

He’s frowning, though, and you’re not sure why.

“Julie?” Jay whips her head around at the sound of Aaron’s voice, and her eyes get wide.

“Dad? What are you…” You stand up abruptly, looking up at Aaron, and Jay stands too, looking between you, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I… We…” He swallows, looks at you like you’ve both made a terrible mistake. You’re surprised how much that look hurts, but you know you have to take care of Jay before you can feel sorry for yourself.

“Jay, listen to me, okay? I swear to god I didn’t know.” You’re begging, pleading with your eyes, your hands on her shoulders. “I did not know.” She shakes her head like it’s not making sense, but when she lets herself connect the dots, she brings up a hand to cover her mouth.

“Oh my god. Are you fucking kidding me?” She pulls away from you, looking at you like you punched her in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Jay, I didn’t—”

“Julie,” Aaron says, reaching for her, but she steps back, palms up.

“I seriously can’t believe this. You two… After every joke we made about me keeping you away from him?” She looks at you like you betrayed her, and you exhale, shrug sadly.

“It’s not like I went looking for him, Jay. We just… found each other.” You don’t look at Aaron, because if the last month hasn’t meant the same things to him, you’ll have to be okay with that. “I know it’s shocking, and I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it feels like to find this out, this way.”

“You’re right, you can’t imagine. I just fought with my mom about my dad’s new girlfriend, and it’s-it’s you.” She laughs, humorless.

“You fought with your mom? When?” Aaron asks, crossing his arms, and it’s so clear how much he cares about Jay. Her eyes fly to his.

“On the fucking way here. She told me about your new slut girlfriend, and I was defending you! I told her I’d meet her if you asked me to, that I’d be nice because I know she’s important to you! And it’s you,” she practically spits, turning to you. “Such a whore that you’ll fuck anyone over forty who can still get it up, including my fucking father.” Her tone stings, and people are looking at the three of you, but you take a breath, remind yourself that she’s just angry right now, and she loves you, doesn’t mean that.

“Julie, that's enough. I’m taking you home and we can talk about this there.” Aaron steps past her, picks up her jacket, and glances over at you, but you’re collecting your things and and pulling up a rideshare app to get yourself the fuck out of there.

You head for the bathroom to wait it out until your ride comes, and you definitely don’t cry because the two people who bring you the most happiness in the world are gone and they barely even looked back. It’s five days before Jay shows up at your door with apology doughnuts and a bottle of rosé. You eat and drink and cry on each other, and then laugh at each other, and your heart feels a little healed by the end of it.

“I’m sorry I called you a whore. It’s just… what are the odds, after everything we said, that you would actually hook up with my fucking dad.” You laugh and take the last bite of your doughnut.

“You don’t think I was a little startled by that turn of events? I was as shocked as you. I knew he had a daughter around my age, but that’s not really what we talked about, you know?” She shoves half a doughnut in her mouth and cackles.

“You don’t talk a whole lot, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Didn’t,” you say, and your whole mood shifts. She looks confused. “We didn’t talk a whole lot. He hasn’t spoken to me since the night you found out.” She pulls out her phone, starts texting.

“Okay, I told him I was okay with you guys like, two days ago, so this probably means he’s spiraling. He tends to do that—get in his own head and beat himself up for things that aren’t his fault.” She looks up from her phone, gives you a soft smile. “Will you forgive me if I tell you he’s moping at home right now, and that I know he’ll be happy to see you?” You roll your eyes a little.

“I already forgive you, Jay, but if he hasn’t called me, maybe there’s a reason. Maybe he was looking for an out, and I gave him one, or maybe he can’t feel the same way I do because he knows we’re friends.”

“He told my mom about you, remember? He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t serious about you, and I don’t think he’d be acting this emo if he didn’t have feelings for you.” She reaches out, covers your hands with hers. “I’m really, really sorry I fucked this up for you guys. Weirdness aside, I know what good people you both are, and I hate that you were happy and I took that from you guys. I’m 100% supportive of you being my future step-mom,” she says with a grin, and you roll your eyes again and give her a hug and then jump up to get a shower.

You’re going to go get your old man.

When you knock on Aaron’s door an hour later, he looks surprised to see you.

“I thought you’d be Julie,” he says softly, and you sigh.

“I know. She sent me. She wants us to get our heads out of our asses, but I told her I don’t know where your head is, because we haven’t spoken.” Seeing him makes you feel a little better, because he does look like he may have been moping the last few days, so that must mean the spark is still there, right? “If you want me to leave, just tell me, and I’ll go; I’ll get out of your life and you can pretend it was just a casual thing, if that’s what you want.” Your heart aches at the thought, but you’d understand, if being his daughter’s best friend is an obstacle he can’t overcome.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says after a long, painfully drawn out moment. “I don’t want you to ever leave. And I could never pretend this was casual.” He steps forward—so handsome in a t-shirt and jeans it makes you long to press kisses all over his face, to hold him and be held by him—and his eyes are trained on yours. “I know nothing about us is conventional, but it doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to you. I want to be with you.”

You take a deep, calming breath, exhale and nod. Your hands ache to reach out and touch him.

“I want to be with you, but only if you can promise that if something comes up with Jay—Julie—we can figure it out together. I don’t ever want to feel the way I felt the other night, and while I get that you had to take care of your daughter, and I’m glad you two talked things out, I can’t just be abandoned if things get weird.” You approach him, wrap your arms around him, and sigh. He hugs you so tightly, rests his cheek against the top of your head.

“I promise. I know I could have handled that better, but the situation was just so...”

“I know, that’s okay. Family comes first—but just so you know, she gave me her full support to campaign to become her new step-mom,” you say, pulling back with a teasing smile, and he shakes his head and grins. “So, one last question: Are you ready to get back in the saddle, Aaron?” He leans in and kisses you so hard you’re breathless, weaves his fingers into your hair.

“Sounds like my kind of adventure.” Message sent with high importance: Do not disturb! Your dad’s indecent.

J: Gross. Thanks for the warning, mom.

That’s step-mom, to you. Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[hyuckworld]

I posted 2,735 times in 2021

2402 posts created (88%)

333 posts reblogged (12%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.1 posts.

I added 4,146 tags in 2021

#💌 : jayflrt love notes - 2052 posts

#series: sugar daddy - 550 posts

#anon - 528 posts

#series: no nut november - 274 posts

#hrtattcker - 191 posts

#ryu 🌹 - 180 posts

#koa anon - 120 posts

#💌 : jayflrt rambles - 98 posts

#loml - 79 posts

#enhypen imagines - 74 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#excus s me i broke up with my boyfriend for u i am free any day of the week at any time i will be awake 25/7 please call me if you ever want

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

we’re dating! (not really)

❝ we're not dating, jake. heeseung’s just an idiot who gets out of awkward situations by saying he’s dating me. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee heeseung x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, crack, fake dating au, high school au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, making out, underage drinking, mutual pining, jake sim being the best friend no one everyone wants, party scene not sponsored by jackson wang, their love language is most definitely physical touch, just a lot !! of fluff !! 

SUMMARY ▸ lee heeseung rejects someone by saying he’s dating you. this is news to you, who has been heeseung’s best friend since forever.

WORD COUNT ▸ 7020 words

PLAYLIST ▸ bad idea! by girl in red • out of my league by fitz and the tantrums • line without a hook by ricky montgomery

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! this fic is for @geminirules​’s “just friends” collab. pls check out the other authors if you’d like and i hope you guys enjoy !! ♡ sidenote: everyone’s in their last year of high school!

See the full post

1531 notes • Posted 2021-08-13 01:15:35 GMT

#4

no nut november

PAIRING ▸ enhypen hyung line x fem!reader 

GENRES ▸ social media au (smau), smut, crack, fluff, established relationship au, friends with benefits au, college au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual jokes, sexual content, sexting kinda, horny-repressing hyung line makes mc sound like she has the hormones of a middle school boy, ft. jeongin, ryujin, taehyun, and park jisung

SUMMARY ▸ four men suppressing their carnal instincts for thirty days doesn’t sound plausible, but it’s no nut november, so victory is crucial. yet, there’s only one obstacle keeping lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, and park sunghoon from their prize: you. game on, boys.

TAG LIST ▸ at the bottom (send me an ask here if you’d like to be added!)

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! this isn’t like written-out smut so the warning may sound sort of odd for a smau?? but i hope y’all enjoy !! ♡ this is a “choose your own route” kind of smau, so you don’t have to read in order :’)

See the full post

1551 notes • Posted 2021-11-28 05:21:16 GMT

#3

sugar daddy

PAIRING ▸ lee heeseung x fem!reader (ft. enha and ningning from aespa)

GENRES ▸ social media au (smau), crack, fluff, mutual pining, college au, strangers to lovers

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual jokes, zero braincells, catfishing (don’t try this at home), heeseung and mc are painfully dense, heeseung and seonghwa sound nothing alike but mc is bad with names, ignore timestamps!

SUMMARY ▸ in which heeseung accidentally becomes your sugar daddy, but funding a sugar baby is hard when you’re a broke college student.

TAG LIST ▸ at the bottom (send me an ask here or comment if you’d like to be added!)

PLAYLIST ▸ click here!

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! i had a txt one of this but since it’s old i wanted to remake it for enha, so i hope y’all enjoy it! ♡ also Yes i used some random faceless pic for mc’s pfp but you can imagine whoever !

See the full post

1610 notes • Posted 2021-08-31 07:56:43 GMT

#2

the a-list

❝ our friendship was already ruined the day i fell for you.❞

PAIRING ▸ park jongseong x fem!reader (ft. park sunghoon)

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, angst, gossip girl au, rich kid au, fake dating au, friends to lovers

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual tension !!, jay and mc are the chuck and blair, enemies to lovers dynamic but they’re friends i swear, toxic rich kids doing toxic rich kid things, jay calls you princess which definitely needs a warning, smut content, oral (f. receiving), oral (m. receiving), thigh riding, dry humping, fingering, multiple orgasms, corruption kink, dacryphilia, slight degradation

SUMMARY ▸ life seems to finally be going your way. that is, until your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend is back, and gossip girl appears to be out to get you. but there’s only room for one queen bee in the upper east side, and with a hand from your best friend, park jongseong, you’re going to make sure it’s you.

WORD COUNT ▸ 10193 words

PLAYLIST ▸ fever by enhypen • positions by ariana grande • daddy issues by the neighborhood • swim by chase atlantic

TAG LIST ▸ @msxflower​ @danyxthirstae01 @shusan @hobistigma @dearlylhs @3ggieyolk @jayparkfromenhypen @pc-yeolie @sunghonkers @yeetyyeetyet @papiibuprofen @seuomo @wifemeupforsan @kkmlhnng @kyleeanne @blank-velvet @god-is-a-homosexual @neovrse @luvjaysbae​ @heelariously​ @sxirx11 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ this is sooo long overdue, but i’m so glad i wrote it because rich kid aus are my everything. also this fic was kickstarted by this and this :’) i hope you guys enjoy !! ♡ ps: you don’t need to know anything about gossip girl to read this 

See the full post

1779 notes • Posted 2021-10-22 15:36:18 GMT

#1

how to un-hate your summer fling

PAIRING ▸ park jongseong x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ implied smut, fluff if you squint, lowkey friends to enemies to lovers, friends with benefits au, summer romance au, frat boy au

WARNINGS ▸ suggestive content, profanity, fuckboy!jay, more like frat boy with fuckboy tendencies and a soft boy lean, making out, grinding

SUMMARY ▸ jay park had trouble written across his forehead, and you were well aware that making out with him behind locked doors was a terrible idea. yet, that never stopped either of you.

PLAYLIST ▸ peaches by justin bieber (ft. daniel caesar and giveon)

WORD COUNT ▸ 2689 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i was writing this as a summer romance au originally and then @baekhyuns-lipchain​ mentioned frat boy au so i went !! (btw i will still get that frat boy heeseung one done)

See the full post

1792 notes • Posted 2021-05-03 06:49:28 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[holylulusworld]

Chocolate Chip

Summary: A witch. A spell. A guinea pig.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader; Dean Winchester x Chocolate Chip

Warnings: language, angst, adorable Dean, possessive Dean, I love guinea pigs, so does Dean, fun, fluff

A/N: I had a weird dream after one of my guinea pigs died a few weeks ago. I turned into a gp and Dean took care of me.

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

“SONOFABITCH!” you cry, chasing after the second witch only to feel strange out of the blue. You know the bitch you killed first chanted a spell and that you got hit, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what was about to happen to you. “NO, DEAN!”

“Sweetheart?” Dean gapes at you, eyes widened in surprise or terror – you can’t define his facial reaction right now, too busy to shrink in yourself, feeling your clothes slide off your body until you end up on the ground. “Fuck, Y/N!”

“Dean! Y/N! I got the second witch,” Sam pants, running into the room only to find you in Dean’s hands, well what’s left of you. “A guinea pig? Dean, we don’t have time to play with pets.”

“T-that’s Y/N!” while you look up at Dean, a high-pitched squeal leaves your mouth. You purr rubbing your cheek against his warm hand. “Uh—I think she likes it when I hold her.”

“Wait—What? This can’t be Y/N,” looking at the guinea pig in his brother’s hands Sam furrows his brows. “We don’t have time for bad jokes either, Dean.”

“How shall I name her?” Dean carefully picks your flannel up to wrap you in the warm fabric. “Any suggestions, Sammy?”

“Dean, you can’t give Y/N a new name. We need to find out how the witch turned Y/N,” Sam tuts while his brother carefully presses you to his chest.

“She likes me, look,” while you happily squeak, excited Dean finally gives you the attention you always wanted, Sam sighs deeply. “I will call her Chocolate Chip from now on.”

Looking up at Dean you squeak again, liking the new name. Even though you can’t speak, you want Dean to know you appreciate he cares for you.

“No, you won’t call Y/N like that. Let’s look around the house, maybe I can find a reverse spell or something.”

“She’s so cute. Furry and all,” Dean snickers, but he presses a soft kiss to your head. “We gotta find a way to turn you back into your old self, until then, I’ll take care of you, Chocolate Chip.”

“Okay, we got hay, water, green stuff, and fresh cut grass, Chocolate Chip,” Dean built a compound only for you. It occupies most of the floor in his room, but he doesn’t care. “Look, I got a nice house for you to hide too, sweetheart.”

“Dean, stop talking to Y/N as if she’s a pet,” Sam watches you happily run around the compound, squeaking when you scent the fresh grass Dean cut for you. 

“But she’s so cute,” Dean kneels in front of the compound, watches you chew on the grass. “Can’t I keep her?”

“Y/N is human and guinea pigs live like eight years max! Do you want her to die?” head-snapping toward his brother to meet his gaze Dean tries to push the panic bubbling up back down.

“No, of course not. Lemme just take care of Y/N while you look for a spell,” Dean carefully pats your head, smiling when you purr in response. “Aw, she loves me. Don’t you Chocolate Chip? You love your daddy.”

“That sounded wrong on so many levels,” shuddering Sam looks at you feast on the grass. “I’ll go and check on the next spellbook.”

“That’s my Baby, she purrs like a cat for me, Chocolate Chip,” watching his brother carry you around Sam snickers silently. “Look, there’s Sammy. We like him.”

“Dean, Y/N knows your car and me.”

“You can’t know that Sam. What if the witch stole her memories too?” Dean smirks when you nuzzle in his chest, squeaking when he runs his fingers over your furry back. “Look at my cute little piggie. You can keep on researching while I look for food for her.”

“Maybe we should get her a second guinea pig. I know you should never have only one,” turning around like in slow motion, his eyes narrowed, jaw clenching Dean glares at his brother.

“No other pig will touch my Chocolate Chip! What if you get a guy and he gets her pregnant? We can’t let my girl have their babies!”

“Dean—” laughing Sam looks at you in his brother’s hands. “I didn’t want her to be alone, is all.”

“She’s not alone,” Dean grunts. “Chocolate Chip has me, now take your hands off my guinea pig and find a way to turn her back into a girl…”

“I bet Sammy can turn you back, sweetheart,” looking at you get comfortable on his chest, Dean smiles. “You’ve got a nice nose, Chocolate Chip. I bet you can smell me with it.”

(“Squeak”), lifting your head you try to answer Dean but all you get out is another squeaking sound.

“I get it,” he pats your head, careful to not hurt you. “You can’t understand me right now, but I want you to know that I’ll do anything to protect you. If Sammy can’t find a way to turn you back into a girl, I’ll build you a bigger compound and get you furry friends, promised.”

“Promised?” looking up at Dean you smirk. “I will take you up on that promise, Winchester.”

“Y/N,” Dean gasps, arms immediately wrapping around your body. “Uh—erm,” he clears his throat, tries to not look at you. “You are kinda naked.”

“Yeah, my fur is gone, and you didn’t give me clothes yet, Dean,” pecking his chin you try to purr one last time. “You took good care of me. Thank you, Dean.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he swallows thickly, looks down at you one last time before he stretches one arm to reach the abandoned flannel on his bed. “I’ll get you something to wear, Y/N. We don’t want Sammy to spy on you.”

“Aw, you’re still taking good care of me,” you sigh happily, head resting against Dean’s shoulder. “By the way, I understood every word, Dean…”

“Three?” eying the guinea pigs you got for Dean said hunter smirks. “How’d you wanna name them, sweetheart?”

“Uh—the one over there is a guy, but don’t worry,” whispering the male guinea pig got castrated you smirk when Dean sighs deeply. “We don’t want them to get pregnant Dean.”

“Poor guy,” Dean looks at the male pet, shaking his head lightly. “I’ll name you Impala, buddy. I think that’s a great name for a brave pig.”

“What about the girls? We could name one Chocolate Chip?” 

“No, that’s your name, Y/N. I will name one Pie and the other Burger,” you chortle, even snort a little but Dean ignores your outburst while feeding the little pets. “Look, they like my food.”

“Yeah, they like you, Dean,” taking Dean’s hand you squeeze it tightly. “Just like me—”

“I know you like me, sweetheart,” snickering Dean wraps one arm around your shoulders, still watching the guinea pigs. “Me, my food, and that I’ll always take care of you. My sweet little Chocolate Chip…”

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx

@screechingartisancashbailiff

@fallen-wolf22

@sister-winchesters99

@mogaruke

@the-is13

@helloitsmeamie203

@sandlee44

@strayrosesbloom

@notyourtypicalrose

@thewinchesterco

@marvelfansworld

@hobby27

@gh0stgurl​

@flamencodiva​

@jay-and-dean​

@valsworldofcreativity​

@h-o-l-l-i​

@dayasvalkyrie​

@wittysunflower​

@supernaturalenchanted​

@shikshinkwon​

@yolobloggers​

@hhiggs​

@laxe-chester67​

@ilovefanfic86​

@linki-locks11​

@eggingamazinglove​

@trumpettay​

@fandom-imagines1​

@waywardbaby​

@straycuties9​

@drakelover78​

@stuckys-whore​

@zxph-yr​

@i-love-superhero​

@ten-tenya-iida​

@deepmuffinspymaker​

@katsav17​

@heyitscam99​

@fandom-princess-forevermore​

@exo-nova​

@echoesofpassion-blog-blog​

@shatteredabby​

@anaelsbrunette​

@sea040561​

@lemondropirwin​

@lonewolf471​

@wronglanemendes​

@juniorhuntersam​

@helpmeluci​

@goodgodimaweirdperson​

@shadowkat-83​

@alltimesamantha​

@officialmarvelwhore​

@miraclesoflove​

@maniacproffesor​

@hollymac79​

@kayla-2000-art-admirer​

@gracefultrenchcoat494​

@babygirls-fav​

@spnwoman​

@amiquette​

@stormchick33​

@geekofmanyforms​

@jessica-marsh09​

@spnficgirl​

@shut-themoonscone​

@thequeenreaders​

@countrygal17a​

@atomicfandombomb​

@kteelou​

@soryuwifeyxx​

@defenderrosetyler​

@shortwinchester​

@maybesomedaygayyyy​

@sabascio​

@that-place-called-middle-earth​

@bunnybaby89​

@pandabiiissh​

@maddiedott​

@lilulo-12​

@05supernatural20​

@mblaqgi​

@justsomedreaming​

@cassiopeia-barrow​

@its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters​

@mscarter213​

@jo-like-josette​

@mep6811​

@prettydeaneyes​

@rvgrsbrns​

@deanwanddamons​

@tearsforhan​

@waywardbabie​

@certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel​

@belovedcherry​

@amandamdiehl​

@sycochick​

@abeautifuldiaster124​

@matsumama​

@rynabarnesrogers-reading

@homeorbust​

@emoryhemsworth​

@lunaticgurly​

@spnbaby-67​

@wonderlandfandomkingdom​

@heartislubbingdubbing​

@kitkatd7​

@doctor-hp-mcu​

@lovefromthewinchesters​

@coffeebooksandfandom​

@moosekateer13​

@simplepastels​

@caffeinefueledfangirl​

@vicmc624​

@mariaenchanted​

@bxnnywriting​

@lady-pswrld​

@thinkaboutmara​

@coldmuffinbanditshoe​

@suckmyapplejacks​

@princesssterek​

@lexy586​

@notbrooklynsblog​

@xoxabs88xox​

@doozywoozy​

@moshymosh​

@soccer-100000​

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187​

@wandering-spiritash​

@jessiebean00​

@riathearora​

@the-loml-got-nailed​

@greeneyedblondie44​

--------------------------------------

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

@spnfamily-j2​

@supernatural-bellawinchester​

@negans-lucille-tblr​

@deans-baby-momma​

@thefaithfulwriter​

@squirrelnotsam​

@roonyxx​

@underthewrap​

@deansgirl-1968​

@spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​

@butifulsoul125​

@lyinginthegingerlocks​

@champagneneen​

@janicho88​

@woodworthti666​

@thevelvetseries​

@dreaminemz​

@akshi8278​

@midnightsilver16830​

@mrspeacem1nusone​

@ria132love​

@caligraphee​

@the-witch-in-silence​

@justanotherwinchester​

@multisuperfandom​

@jadesupernatural​

@psychicforest​

@luciathewinchestergirl​

@magssteenkamp​

@tranquility-or-chaos​

@jxackles​

@michellemxndes​

@addictedtofictionalcharacters​

@impalapark​

@waywardrose13​

@team-free-will-you-idjiot

@myopiamystical​

@rintheemolion​

@bluecornflowers​

@rosalynshields​

@nihilismworld​

@peaches007​ 

@thoughts-and-funnies​

@lyarr24​ 

@givecki

@beabutterfly987​

@deandreamernp​

@quicksilver-x​

[thebookreader12345]

Two Becomes Three

Pairing: Jay Halstead x reader

Summary: Christmas comes around, and Jay doesn’t think anything of it, but Y/N has a huge surprise for him that will change his life

Requested: Yes, by @lma1986

Warnings: slight descriptions of sex, mentions of pregnancy

Word Count: 1,417 Words

I remembered that night like it was yesterday. Jay and I had just gotten back from a party, and as soon as we got home, clothes had been taken off. I remembered his lips grazing against my skin. His hands roaming my body. The way his breath had the faint smell of alcohol. I even remembered the way I moaned out his name, and how he reacted by smirking down at me. Like I said, it was like it was yesterday, except it was 2 months ago.

I placed my hand against the window pane as I stared out the glass, taking in the weather outside. It was going to be a white Christmas this year because today was Christmas Eve, and the snow was falling at a decent rate. My eyes scanned the buildings across the street, seeing snow piled on the rooftops and on window ledges, and I smiled. Christmas had always been one of my favorite times of the year. That’s when an arm slipped around my waist, and I was suddenly in the warming embrace of my husband.

“Good morning,” Jay murmured and pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“Morning,” I reply and continue to stare out the window.

“What are you doing up so early?” Jay asked me.

I shrugged. “It’s just one of those days. You want me to make you something for breakfast?”

“I think I’m good with coffee,” Jay answered.

“Well, a fresh pot is waiting for you,” I tell him.

Jay chuckled softly and pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek. “You’re the best. So, what time is everyone coming over today?”

“The party starts at 5,” I say. “So please make sure you’re ready by then.”

“I will be. I promise,” Jay spoke and exited the bedroom.

“I’ve actually got to go run an errand, but I’ll be back later,” I announce to Jay from the bedroom where I was changing into some clothes.

“An errand this early in the morning?” Jay questioned.

“Maybe it’s something I’ve got to do for tonight. I’ll be back in a bit,” I state and emerge from the bedroom in a pair of jeans and a long sleeved, gray, fuzzy sweatshirt.

“All right. See you later,” Jay said and pecked my lips. After I pulled on my boots and a coat, and grabbed my things, I left the apartment and headed out front where my car was waiting. I climbed into the driver’s seat, put the key in the ignition, and started the engine. It didn’t take long for me to get to Chicago Med, and when I walked into the ED, Will was waiting for me.

“Jay didn’t get suspicious and follow you, did he?” Will asked.

“No. I’m here alone,” I respond.

“Great. Follow me,” Will ordered and led me into one of the empty trauma rooms. The ED was practically empty today, which was weird seeing as it was Christmas Eve. Once I was inside of the room, I laid down on one of the beds as Will got the ultrasound ready. The gel was cold against my stomach, and I flinched a bit, but it didn’t bother me too much. “And here we are. You’re 2 months along,” Will said and pointed to the monitor which showed a small baby, which would soon start growing.

“I can’t believe we’ve been keeping this a secret from Jay and everyone else for the past week,” I tell Will. “I’m just excited for everyone to find out.”

Will smiled. “Jay’s going to freak out. I know because I’m freaking out, and I’m only the uncle.”

“Okay. I’ve got to get back to the apartment before Jay tracks me down. Can you print this out for me?” I ask.

“For sure,” Will replied and clicked a button on the keyboard, which printed out the small picture. I thanked Will and put the picture in my purse before giving him a hug.

“I’ll see you later, right?” I question.

“Yeah. I’ll see you tonight,” Will said. Back at home, I found Jay lounging on the couch watching TV in the dark.

“Hey babe,” Jay greeted.

“Hey. Why are you sitting in the dark? Turn on the Christmas lights or something,” I suggest and shrug off my coat.

Jay shrugged. “So where’d you have to go?”

“None of your business,” I tell him playfully and pull my boots off of my feet. “You’ll find out later.”

“Well you saying that just makes me want to know even more,” Jay pointed out as I flopped down onto the couch next to him.

“You’re not going to figure it out, and I’m not going to tell you, so you’ve just got to wait. Now, I am freezing cold from being outside, and I want to cuddle,” I say and hold out my arms. Jay laughed, but pulled me into his lap and wrapped his arms around me. The warmth from his body spread to mine, and soon I was already starting to warm up. It was hard knowing that our family would be going from two to three, and not being able to tell Jay yet, but he would find out tonight, and I couldn’t wait.

............................................

“No way. You’re lying,” Adam spoke as we all lounged around the living room. I was sitting on Jay’s lap in the arm chair, Adam and Kim were snuggled up on one end of the couch with Kevin on the other, and Will and Hailey were sitting on the soft, carpeted floor.

“I’m not. Y/N got out of the car, and right as her foot touched the ground, she slipped,” Jay said, causing everyone to laugh.

“Jay, maybe I should tell them about that one time at my parents’ house when-” 

Jay cut me off. “No. Do not talk about that. We agreed to never bring it up.”

“Well now I’ve got to hear it,” Hailey commented.

“I’ll tell you later,” I mouthed to her when Jay wasn’t looking.

“All right. Who wants some eggnog?” Jay questioned and tapped on my elbow to get me to get up for a second.

“Me,” everyone chanted, except for me.

“Y/N, do you want some?” Jay asked me.

“No thanks. I’m good,” I reply and perch on the arm of the chair.

“Are you sure? I know how much you love eggnog,” Jay disclosed.

“I’m okay,” I tell him. The reason I was declining eggnog was because it contained alcohol, and I was pregnant, so I couldn’t have alcohol. Jay, however, didn’t know that yet. After everyone had gotten their glasses of eggnog, they returned to their seats and we continued talking. Soon though, it was time for me to tell Jay about the surprise. I headed into the bedroom and grabbed the small, wrapped box from the back of the closet where I had hidden it earlier. Then, I made my way back into the living room and extended the present towards Jay.

“What’s this?” Jay asked me and took the box from my hands.

“The surprise I was telling you about earlier. I figured everyone else would want to see it too, hence the reason I waited until the party. Will and I have had this planned since last week, so please don’t make us wait any longer and open it,” I exclaim. Jay unwrapped the box and took off the lid before peaking inside.

“Are you serious?” Jay asked me, his voice laced with happiness.

“What’s in the box?” Kevin questioned. Jay reached into the box and pulled out a pair of baby shoes, which were designed to look like police cars, followed by the ultrasound picture I had gotten printed out this morning. A huge smile broke out on Jay’s face, and he set the box down before standing up to give me a hug.

“So, let me get this straight,” Jay spoke. “My brother knew that you were pregnant before I did?”

“Yes, and I was dying to tell you, but Y/N wanted me to keep it a secret,” Will responded.

“I’m so happy for you guys,” Kim confessed and gave me a hug. “It’s about time we had a baby join the Intelligence family.”

“Well, you’ll all have to wait about 7 months to meet him or her, but I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait,” I respond. “Merry Christmas, Jay.”

“Merry Christmas,” Jay murmured and pulled me in for another hug. “And thank you for making this the best Christmas ever.”

________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13​ @dreamingmanip @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @nevertoofarfromivar @anotherfan07 @giagma @mrspeacem1nusone @i-like-sparkly-things

[bill-y]

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta Mellark x male reader

We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family.

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part two: Click here, bomburino tortilla pony horse.

Part three: You're here, my guy.

Part four: Click here, amigo

Wattpad acc: L0calxDumbass

It didn't take long before I came home, my mother and brother was already dressed, and I was right, Kunal has been crying.

He immediately lightened up when he saw the bread, pushing the sleeves of my first reaping outfit (which was now his) back in order to munch on it.

"Don't worry, you only have your name once in the pile, you're safe," I reassured him, as I've done many times before.

I smiled, patting his head. My mother glanced at me, but I pretended to not notice. It's been long since we've talked, the last time was a disagreement, a petty one at that. About two years or so?

I honestly surpised myself, how can I go without talking to her for so long. . .?

Another trait my father passed on to me was a short temper, though I never lose my head and scream, but something about her words made me yell. Her face was full of shock when I did that, almost as if I've betrayed her.

"Don't be stupid like your father!" She told me.

My father isn't a stupid man, he was smart. Lady luck just wasn't on his side that day.

I took a bath, scrubbing the dirt and soot off myself. When I saw my clothing my heart stopped. It was my Father's.

It was simple, just as he liked. A white button up tunic, the hems made of elegant gold lace. The pants were loose, with garters securing on the hip and the hems, he never liked tight clothing, just like me.

My eyes went towards my mother, who simply nodded, "After you get dressed, sit down, won't you? Let me fix your hair," she said.

My mouth opened to protest, only to shut itself when she whispered a small, "please," My eyes softened, her voice sounded so guilty, she regretted her words, just as I did. She knew I could get chosen.

But I'm a coward, I don't like apologizing, something I inherited from her.

I nodded, and got dressed before I sat down, just as she told me. She began to braid tiny sections of my hair. I've never been good at it, really, It would always look messy when I did it. So I just looked messy everyday.

But her hands can do magic, it was like she was weaving silk, her hands full of grace and utmost care as she intertwined every strand of hair. I could feel her hand shake a little, as if scared with one wrong touch, I'd shatter like glass.

She used to sew clothing, make various artworks with whatever was in the house. Her hand was naturally delicate, soft to anything she makes contact with.

I bit my lip, none of us wanted to say it. We we're both thinking the same thing, though.

I never really liked cutting my hair, always kept it atleast neck length at best. I don't think short hair suits me at all, though it does get in the way while hunting from time to time.

Once she finished, without a word she pressed her chapped lips onto my forehead, she then walked away, leaving me with a pit of guilt in my stomach.

Such simple words, why can't I just say it?

I sighed, fixing my tunic and tucking it in, the garter snapping back, making me wince a little. It was stupid of me to let go.

I took a deep breath in, mustering all the courage I had to walk towards my brother, who has devoured the entire loaf. "Good?" I asked.

He nodded, a smile on his face, the crumbs falling down. I chuckled, wiping his mouth with my hand.

"You're like a bird, aren't you, little mocking jay?" I said, patting his head again.

He hummed, nodding aggressively, his hair bouncing up and down. I snickered, holding his head still with both my hands. I squished his cheeks together, making his lips form into a duck beak-shape. "Hey, Y/n,"

I rose my brows, humming. "I won't get chosen, won't I?" he asked. I sniffed, shaking my head as I linked our foreheads. "No, no you wont, Nal," I said. "If they call you, I won't let you go, alright?"

"You promise?"

"Of course,"

Soon it hit one in the afternoon, it was mandatory to attend this "festival", unless you're at death's door, that is. I found myself beside Gale, who patted my shoulder for reassurance.

Maybe it was obvious I'm stressed, tense. I'm not worried about myself, I'm more worried of them, especially Kunal. He's only twelve, yet he can still get chosen.

Some kind of festival this is.

I clenched my fists tighter, palms started to go white as I also clenched my jaw.

On the temporary stage stationed in front of the justice building was a podium, three chairs and two large bowls. The district is divided into two sections, jumbled across those two glass bowls, waiting to be picked up.

Twenty of them contained 'Y/n Greyback', one of them contained 'Kunal Greyback'.

There were also bright banners hung up, though I'm sure it was just there to taunt us, it sure worked for me. Everytime I look at it I start feel sick, hatred bubbling in my stomach.

The feeling of claustrophobia began to settle in as people piled into the square, the late comers having to just watch from a monitor instead.

"You alright?" Gale asked, nudging me. I gulped, sighing, "Course, I just —" I turned back, looking at my brother. "Worry of him,"

He gave me a sympathetic look, "He only has one entry, I'm sure he won't be picked," He said. Something I've been saying for such a long time, it didn't help settle my nerves.

"I know," I answered plainly.

We looked towards Katniss' place, beside her was Mardge, who gave me a curt smile and a wave. Out of politeness, I simply nodded back before turning back to the stage.

My hands grew colder each second, by two, when the mayor finally reached the stage, my hands were as cold as a corpse's.

Beside the mayor was Effie Trinket, District 12’s escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit. It looked quite ghastly.

Everyone murmured in worry, for whom was the empty third seat for?

The mayor stepped in front of the podium, beginning to tell the tale of Panem, how the twelve districts lost in the rebellion and now have to face punishment.

The Hunger games.

It was simple, each district would pick two "tributes" to this little game, and then they either kill like a hungry wolf or die like lost cattle.

I gulped, sweat forming on my forehead as I instinctively reached for the end of Gale's shirt. He held my hand, patting it a few times to let me know it would be alright.

He then began to read the victors in every hunger games. In the past seventy-four years, we have had exactly two.

Only one is still alive. Haymitch Abernathy, a paunchy, middle-aged man, who at this moment appears hollering something unintelligible, staggers onto the stage, and falls into the third chair.

To say he's drunk would be an understatement.

The crowd responds with its token applause, but he’s confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off.

The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughingstock of Panem, and he knows it. He quickly tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Effie Trinket.

Bright and bubbly as ever, she began to talk. I could feel my blood boiling upon hearing her obnoxious, Capitol accent. I tuned her out, gulping as my hands somehow grew even colder.

Please don't let it be my brother, anyone but him.

"Let's have the first pick, shall we?" She said, her voice at the end of the sentence practically sky rocketing up. She pulled a piece of paper from one of the Glass bowls.

My heart pounded, as if trying to escape my chest. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths in.

"Kunal Greyback,"

My heart stopped. Why couldn't it have been me? I had twenty, TWENTY entries.

I watched as my brother walked past me, his lip quivering, eyes glossy. Oh sweet, sweet Kunal, as delicate as a Lotus.

Kunal, the boy who gathers flowers every morning just for me.

Kunal, the boy who loves pulling on my braids.

Kunal, my dear innocent brother. Afraid of his own shadow.

I felt my own body move, launching myself forward. Gale called for my name, but I didn't care, no. I needed to get to my brother, I made a promise.

"NAL! NAL! NO!" I yelled, desperation evident in my voice as I pushed through the other people. "Y/n!" He screamed back.

Most of then gave me and my brother looks of sympathy, some gossiped. "Greyback," they'd whisper. "Another one bites the dust," they'd continue.

The peace keepers pushed me back, preventing me from reaching my brother.

No, not like this. He's still so young, he still wants to gather lilys by the front of our house, he still wants to create flower crowns for me to wear.

He still wants to breath, to live.

The mayor looked at me, recignizing me almost immediately. He didn't know me, no. Rather, he knew my father, the man he put under the execution block.

Oh mother, I'm sorry it had to be this way. It seems another one of your family members will die at the hands of the Capitol.

"I volunteer!" I gasped, gulping down nothing. My mouth was dry.

"I volunteer as a tribute!"

Word count: 1.6k

Tags:

@nin3s

:v

[danny-chase]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Damian Wayne & Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne & Bruce Wayne Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Damian Wayne Centric, Panic Attack, Sickfic, Sick Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, he gets half a hug, Damian Wayne is a sweetheart, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Damian Wayne is a good brother Series: Part 10 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

Sequel to Pneumonia, Damian decides to spend his day home with Richard.

Full story under cut

Footsteps echo through the hall, light, but heavy enough to be intentional. Too carefully timed to be confident in their placement. And with too little bounce to be Richard’s.

 Nor would he waken if they were Richard’s and that’s really his first clue. Briskly throwing off the sheets and flattening his hair, he throws open the door before his father can make it the rest of the way down the hall. The footsteps stop in their tracks.

 He leaves the door open as invitation, yet it’s unnecessary – father doesn’t approach. From what little time they’ve spent together, Damian finds it strange – his father is single minded in his work but yet so indecisive in his home – well – really this wasn’t his home. “How is he?” The words come out too harshly and he grits his teeth, hoping for leniency – father is to be respected, not talked to in such a manner.

 Nor was father was pleased the last time he erred in his judgment. Ever since he’d failed the first time he meant, he’d been treated like a plague, locked in his room then, and avoided now.

 …But he’d heard stories from Richard about a softer man than the one he’d met a year ago. A man whose love was stronger than his hate – who took in children and saved their souls.

 It was odd that such a man had shied away from his own son. Damian couldn’t understand what he’d done wrong – he understood the skirmish with Drake was wrong – but Richard spoke of a man who could forgive. And yet. He’d only seen forgiveness from Richard.

 He’d thought perhaps, that had been his father’s influence.

 Another footstep resounds around him, and the realization strikes – he hasn’t moved. Huffing – at no one in particular – he silently strides forward, yanking his dresser drawers open to retrieve a set of perfectly folded clothes.

 “Damian.” Father stays just out of sight beyond the door. Its nerve wracking – almost painful – waiting for information. Richard promised he would be fine, last night, he promised Bruce could take care of the things – would be back – would fix it.

 He’d almost believed him, but for a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

 It was odd, seeing him waver – especially because he’d seen for himself how much Bruce cared for him. He’d read the worry in his expressions and the thinly veiled pain as he stitched his successor’s side. Father was back – he’d believed that much – though he didn’t believe it when Richard said it – and that was… a complicated thing.

 Suffice to say, he’d kept watch from afar until he heard the doorknob turn, leaving once father began to speak.

 An awkward clearing of the throat makes him turn. Father stands in the doorway, looking stern but unsure, finally having decided to make an appearance. It’s irritating, how tall he seems; his head mere inches away from the top of the doorframe. “What?” He can’t keep panic from slipping into his voice. Swallowing, he makes another attempt. “How is Richard?”

 Frowning, father shakes his head slightly looking displeased. Damian’s heart sinks to the floor – Richard couldn’t – he promised – he –

 “He’s not doing as well as I’d hoped. His blood oxygen level fell last night, I had to put him on an external canister to raise it.” Damian lets out a long breath, his pulse returning to normal as father continued. “He’s stable, Leslie came over an hour ago. She predicts a full recovery, just don’t expect him to bounce back too quickly.” His father paused, giving him a curious look. “You look flush, are you alright?”

 Suddenly full of the desire to be alone, he shuts the door. “Yes. One moment.” For a moment he thought – never mind that now. Turning back to his clothes, he kicks off his pajamas, hastily changing. He runs a hand through his hair, breathing steadily – everything is fine.

 He can hear his father hesitating, the floorboards groaning as he shifts his weight. “School starts in an hour. I’ll drive you.” It takes all the willpower he can muster not to let a groan escape his lips. School’s awful on the best of days, a miserable prison with miserable teachers not paid enough to put up with his obnoxious rich classmates’ egregious behavior.

 “I’m not going.” Richard needs monitoring after all and his father had fulfilled the task last night. For proper care, he needs properly awake caretakers.

 “You will go.” The response is firm, but not without minor hesitation – something Richard had taught him to look for – something he could exploit in interrogations – something he could exploit here (for a good cause of course).

 His argument must be flawless – rational and logical, nothing else will suffice. Pulling on his socks, crossing the room, he flings the door open, storming into the hall, in a display of righteous fury. “The benefits of my attending school today do not outweigh the benefits Richard would receive if I monitor his progress and allow you sleep in order to be prepared to monitor him tonight. Firstly, I know the material already.” His father makes a noise to interrupt, but he continues unperturbed.

 “Secondly, I understand the social benefits are a concern to you. Ask Richard, I have made a friend. His name is Colin and he’s much better than any of the awful children at that school. And I’ve met with Lian and Irey and Jay.” The Titan’s children were annoying, but he wasn’t lying. It was awful, but he’d made it through the ‘playdate’. “Thirdly, as for extracurricular activities, Grayson has provided me with all necessary materials to pursue my interests. And…” He trails off, finding his father’s eyes tired, the bags under them unreasonably puffy. Gesturing vaguely, he pointed back at a mirror in his room. “Just look at yourself, you expect to watch him well like that?” They can debate all they’d like, but if father refuses to sleep much longer, the argument will be decided in his favor.

 The eyes shift to the mirror and back, then to him, to the floor, then covered by a hand. His father turns, muttering something he can’t quite hear, but he makes out the words from reading his lips. ‘What the hell has Dick been teaching you?’ A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth – he’s won. Perhaps, with further needling, he’ll be out of school for good, but today, he doesn’t press his luck.

 Father drops his hand with a sigh. “Fine. Keep up with your studies.” He takes a few steps back. “You can sit in the room but don’t bother him.” Damian holds back an eye roll, as if he would bother Richard while he’s recuperating. “Call if anything changes, I’ll make breakfast.” Father turns, Damian’s eyes follow, watching him stride down the hall, ducking into the kitchen.

 As the kitchen door smoothly thuds shut, he turns back to his room, swallowing down the odd sensation that stirs in the base of his throat. His steps are silent – mindlessly so, as he pads over into the adjacent bathroom to finish his morning routine.

 He emerges – the strange feelings sticking with him – he supposes he ought to feel relieved, but dread builds in the pit of his stomach instead at the prospect of seeing Richard.

 Father said Richard would be fine. Leslie said Richard would be fine. Richard promised he would be fine.

 None of them are liars – but what if they missed something? The thought wracks his mind on an endless loop. The hallway seems to stretch out as he takes a step towards his brother’s room. What if something changes before he gets there? What if the medication doesn’t work – what if it’s a super virus or an antibiotic resistant bacteria? Their enemies could come up with ridiculously effective toxins, pathogens aren’t that much different.

Richard promised. He tries desperately to hold on to that thought, stumbling forward, forcing himself closer to his room. His heart pounds harder the closer he inches, his head joining the party and thudding along in time. He feels like the deer slipping on ice on that dumb movie Richard made him watch; it’s as if his legs have forgotten to function.

 He’s nearly there – the hallway spins slightly but it’s just a few more steps – he needs to get control of himself but he can’t breathe. Two more steps. Two more steps and then he can. See Richard.

 Halfway through his next step, he trips, falling face first onto the floor, unable to do anything but choke out unsteady breaths, his mind screaming the counts to a breathing exercise learned as a child long ago.

 Pathetic. He would have been killed in the League for less. He mastered control of his emotion as a child – this – this is unacceptable! He reaches a hand forward, sheer willpower the only thing keeping him from curling in on himself – he has to keep moving.

 His hand connects with a foot, he looks up, finding a flush face with bleary eyes staring back. “Damian?” Richard’s voice is rough and quiet, guilt floods his stomach – Richard shouldn’t be out of bed – he shouldn’t have panicked like this – this is – “Woah, buddy, breathe.” There’s a hand resting on his shoulder, the next time he looks up, Richard sits next to him on the floor, tapping his hand in time to a new count, one he learned here a few months ago.

 There’s a million pieces of his mind scattered about the hallway and the longer he sits there breathing, the more pieces settle back into their places. Richard’s verbal count shifts into coughs, but he keeps his hand steady. When he finishes, the tapping’s all that’s left.

 Damian shakily pulls himself up on his knees, not quite sure what exactly happened. Richard gives him a small sad smile, his eyes full of sympathy – sympathy that Damian doesn’t want – feels guilty for receiving – sympathy he’s never earned. It’s overwhelming – and something’s wrong with him – because he doesn’t cry – hasn’t cried since he was nine – and he’s nearly eleven and he’s over this.

 He can’t cry because everything’s okay – Richard’s arms are open in an invitation, his hand receding from his shoulder, but close enough to hover. He’s fine. Richard is fine. Tired, yes, but his side’s not gushing blood, and his coughs subsided. Damian wipes his eyes on his sleeve, glancing around – ensuring they’re alone – before sliding up against the wall next to Richard, scooting under one of his shoulders. A muscular arm drapes over his shoulders, hand settling back on his shoulder.

 He’s warm, a bit uncomfortably so, and his breathing sounds raspy, but as he leans against his brother’s chest, he hears a steady heartbeat and it’s unbelievingly reassuring. The hand on his shoulder is firm, but not tight; he can slip out; he’s not trapped.

 Really, he ought to be ashamed, of needing comfort like some sniveling third-grader, but it’s different – coming from Richard – someone he’s seen far too many times on the wrong end of some twisted concoction of fear gas, crying and screaming – needing comforting himself. Fear gas. Maybe this was an after effect – he files away the notion to mull over later – perhaps run a blood test on himself later.

 Richard’s grip tightens as he coughs, turning to face away. Damian’s gut drops – Richard was supposed to be on supplemental oxygen. Guilt claws at his insides as he quickly stands, pulling his brother along the best he can. It gives him appreciation for Nightwing’s smaller frame – his brother is way heavier and bulkier than he was a year ago – supporting him takes nearly all his might. “Come on.” He urges, dragging Richard into his room, this times his steps steady and stable.

 They’re both out of breath by the time they’ve made it to the bed. Richard plops down, bouncing slightly on mattress, gasping for air. Biting back his guilt, Damian quickly traces the path of the nasal cannula, shoving the nose piece into Richard’s hands. “Here.” He watches the man fumble for a second before settling it place.

 He slides down, tucking himself into a tight ball beside the bed, listening as gasps turns to wheezes, wheezes to coughs, coughs to rasps and back again, as Richard learns how to breathe like a normal human being. “Thanks.” He grunts, nudging Damian with his shin.

 Damian huffs, he shouldn’t be thanked – he caused this mess! “For what?!” He half-shouts, quickly lowering his voice before he can say more. He needs to stay calm – he’s not supposed to be a disturbance. “It’s my fault you-”

 “Damian.” Richard groans in an annoyed way, not an ‘I’m about to hack up another lung’ way. “Thanks for staying in to keep me company. It’s sweet.” Some company he is, forcing his brother out of bed to come pick him up off the floor. “Quit pouting, I’m fine.” The leg nudges him again. A third time when he doesn’t respond. He pushes back. Richard nudges him again. Damian scowls, what’s he supposed to even do in this situation?! “Let’s play Mario Kart or something.” Richard says, as if he’s overheard Damian’s thoughts.

 Just as he pauses to mull over the suggestion, the door screeches on its hinges, shaking him out of his musings. “We should get that oiled.” Father mutters, carrying a tray of breakfast foods. He freezes in his tracks at the sight of Damian on the floor. “Everything okay?” Unfreezing, his motions are rigid and forced, his lips pursing into a straight line, brow furrowing, contorting into deep worry lines.

 Richard swings his legs back onto the bed. “Just left to use the bathroom, Damian helped me back.” The lie sounds natural, comes far too readily out of his mouth. Damian swallows, staring at the floor as his father ponders whether the statement rings true.

 It seems he’s decided to let it slip if he knows. He grunts an acknowledgement, setting the tray aside the bed, passing each a plate. It’s funny – how their dishes are so plain – just pure white, no décor. It struck him as odd when he’d first used them, now no longer odd, but fitting. The bland dish fits right in with Richard’s bland room.

 Father leaves as quick as he came, and Damian’s left to reflect on the empty room as he munches on a bagel. He hasn’t spent much time in here, out of respect for privacy, he’s seen it before, but never thought what it would be like to live in it. “Don’t you get bored of looking at the walls?” He mutters, after swallowing a bite. His own walls are cluttered with his possessions; trophies from fallen enemies, keepsakes from his mother, and gifts from his brother (even a friendship bracelet from Brown is tacked to his corkboard). Richard’s are bare, save one faded poster. His eyes linger on the grinning young acrobat, gracefully swinging with his parents in the background.

 Richard hums, curiously following his gaze. “Walls are walls, I don’t normally look at them. I just come in here to sleep.” He nods towards the television. “If I’m bored I can watch a show.”

 Damian rolls his eyes. “When’s the last time you even turned it on?” He stands, spinning, taking in a full view of the room. “Room color effects your mood.” It’s something Richard used an excuse, to get him to pick a new color for his bedroom when they first moved in. “And potted plants are good for overall wellbeing.” He has a few on his dresser, he even set up an automatic watering system. He could hang some ivy over the balcony. Though… maybe not ivy.

 Richard smiles to himself, letting out a little raspy noise that he supposes could be a laugh. “You’re really into it, huh?” Damian feels heat rise to his cheeks, he’s not ‘into’ anything as trivial as room décor. “Go wild, you can order whatever online and have it delivered.”

 Damian turns his attention back towards Richard, hastily scoffing as he finishes speaking. “I’m not interested, I just wondered how <em>you</em> of all people could have such a bland room.” A flash of annoyance runs over Richard’s face, lingering long enough for Damian to properly identify it. It’s surprising to say the least; Richard almost never looks that way at him anymore.

 Annoyance fades as Richard gazes out past the balcony. “I… lost a lot of stuff in the move.” Damian kicks himself mentally – Richard last lived in New York, but a month ago he overheard him and Drake talk about an old apartment back in Blüdhaven. He’d done some snooping in old casefiles, Richard’s stint there had been quite extended. Extended enough to have his property demolished by a villain even before the entire city was leveled by a nuclear explosion. “Damian.” Richard looks at him, face carefully neutral. “Don’t worry about it, let’s play cards or something.”

 Don’t worry about it – how can he not worry about it?! He’d be devastated if he lost the gifts from his mother – some things aren’t replaceable. He gives the room another glance – it’s still empty – but he could fix it slightly. Maybe consult with Drake about the former apartment, if necessary contact – he shudders – the Titans during – he gags – one of their playdates for advice. “Damian are you okay?” Richard looks perplexed.

 He shoves his plans back down, first things first, walls and flooring. He turns on the spot, marching out the door. “We’re fixing your room.” He mutters, storming down the hall to grab his laptop.

 When he walks back in the room, Richard is staring at him. “What?” He demands, as Richard’s eyes follow him all the way to a chair aside the bed. He’s a bit annoyed at the chair even, it’s from the kitchen, probably dragged in here by his father last night. He adds ‘seating’ to his mental list – if Richard’s ill or injured, it would be nice for Pennyworth or him to be able to sit somewhere.

 Richard shuffles back, edging closer and sitting upright against a mountain of pillows. “Nothing. I just thought you weren’t interested.” He cocks an eyebrow as Damian pulls up a paint comparison site.

 “I’m not.” He spits. “I don’t want to look at your boring walls anymore.”

 Richard laughs again, in his modified way. “Mm. Yup. Sure.”

 Damian ignores the comment, already delving into the program, comparing colors against the wall - connecting to the TV to display them, and weighing the pros and cons of each one. Richard watches, providing occasional commentary, rating each color on a scale from one to one hundred. They argue over shades of green, and the correct way to make purple pop – nothing serious, nor work related. Later the room will be full of things, but for now he’s content to let their conversation fill the void.

[justmypartner]

Make it Work: Chapter 8

Summary: When offered a permanent position with the FBI, Hailey agrees to take it under one condition: Jay comes too. As their personal lives and work lives begin to change, the two partners find it increasingly difficult to navigate their complex relationship and manage their feelings for one another.

Writer’s Note: This is my favorite chapter so far. I cried, I smiled, I felt a lot of emotions while writing it, and I’m pretty proud of how it turned out. There are a few warnings for this chapter, so see those below. Not to give anything away, but if you didn’t like Walker before, you really won’t like him after this chapter. Thanks to everyone following this story, I appreciate each and every note so much! Prepare your tissues and please enjoy!! 

TW//: mentions of assault and attempted sexual assault

Tagging: @angelsjedi , @brookerz122493 , @cpdfan2014 , @the–carousel , @maya-asturias , @itsdesiree86​ , @tvshowsaremyhappyplace 

Read on AO3 or below

A light patter on the window woke Jay long before his alarm did. He threw his duvet from his body and rose from the bed, stretching out his tired limbs before moving to the window to watch as rain fell from the sky. It was his first rainy New York City day, and his mood certainly matched the weather. Unlike the day prior, he was hangover free, but he had a strange dismal feeling in his chest he couldn’t explain. He chalked the feeling up to the dreary weather and slowly began to get ready for the day.

He walked to work, maneuvering through the sidewalk traffic carefully as his umbrella bumped into those around him. When he made it to the office, it was uncharacteristically quiet. He went to the break room to make a cup of coffee before settling into his desk. He had been quietly catching up on things when Walker walked in. Jay’s attention shot up when he noticed the red and purple bruises scattered across his face.

“Dude, what the hell happened to you?” Jay questioned, suppressing a snicker that leapt out from the back of his throat. Walker only replied with a scowl and a shake of the head. Jay threw his hands up in surrender, but he wasn’t planning on fully letting it go. Whatever happened, he figured must have taken place sometime after he left work the night before. Then it hit him, Hailey went out with him and would surely know the story.

Jay pulled out his phone, clicking on her contact and typing her a message.

Cannot wait to hear about what Walker got into last night. He’s being tight-lipped about it, but I’m sure it’s a story you’re just itching to tell ;)

He sent the text with a concealed smirk before slipping his phone back into his pocket and bringing his attention back to his computer. Not long after Walker showed up, Daisy walked in, immediately taking note of the bruises on Walker’s face and chuckling to herself.

“What happened Burrows, sleep with the wrong guy’s wife?” she mocked with a sneer as she settled into her desk. He silently shut her down the same way he did Jay. Daisy’s eyes met Jay’s, widening with curiosity and amusement. He shrugged, shaking his head with an entertained grin.

After a while, Hailey still hadn’t shown up, causing him to worry. She was never late, so he decided to call her. No answer. He texted her again, this time asking if she was alright. By the time Drake had come in to brief the team on the day’s case, she still hadn’t shown up and she still hadn’t responded. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew something was wrong. After the briefing, he pulled Walker aside.

“Do you know where Hailey is?” He asked him. The man twitched at the sound of her name, causing Jay to look at him crossly.

“No clue,” Walker replied bluntly.

“Did something happen last night?” Jay questioned, anxiety building as he surveyed the man’s beaten face, his imagination beginning to run unhinged.

“Look, Halstead. I have no clue where she is, leave me alone,” he spat, pushing past him to end the conversation. Something was up, and every word that left the man’s mouth only made Jay more concerned. His gut told him her absence and his bruises weren’t mutually exclusive, the thought sent a hot anger through Jay’s body. Before Walker could get far, Jay grabbed at his arm, pulling him back around to face him.

“What the hell happened?” He hissed. Walker tried to yank his arm away, but Jay tightened his grip, preventing him from doing so.

“Back off, Halstead,” he bucked up, trying to get in his face.

Daisy noticed the scrap, rushing over and inserting herself between the two of them.

“Woah, okay what’s going on here?” she raised, pushing against each of their chests to separate them. Avoiding the question, Jay shook his head, moving towards his desk and snatching his jacket from the back of his chair.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll go find out myself. It better have nothing to do with you,” Jay threatened, pushing a finger into the man’s chest.

He turned to Daisy. “Tell Drake I had to take care of something. Also, don’t let him out of your sight,” he told her softly, nodding his head towards Walker. She nodded skeptically, and he turned to make his way towards the elevators.

His heart practically leapt out of his chest as he trudged through the rain on his way to Hailey’s apartment. In his rush out of headquarters, he left his umbrella, leaving cold rain pouring over him, soaking in his clothes down to his skin the entire walk over. Yet, it did nothing to cool down the fire that filled his body with rage. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but the twisted feeling in his abdomen went from bad to worse after his confrontation with Walker.

He reached her building, desperately punching the buzzer for her apartment. It took several minutes, but eventually, she answered.

“Yes?” her soft voice echoed through the speaker, causing him to lean a hand into the building in relief. The comfort of hearing her voice dwindled quickly when he realized the defeated tone she carried.

“Hail, it’s me. Let me up,” he said as calmly as possible, raising his voice slightly to be understood over the thrumming of rain around him. There was no response and there was no buzz. He repeated his words once again.

“Let me up, please. I need to see that you’re alright,” he begged, the rain continuing to seep into his suit and cling to his skin.

A few moments later, there was a buzz and the lobby door opened. He made his way through it, ignoring the slippery mess he was creating all the way into the building and rushing up the stairs to her apartment. When he made it to her door, he took a beat, preparing himself for whatever he was about to see on the other side. He knocked. The sound of light footsteps approached before the lock clicked and the door opened slowly.

His heart fell in his chest the second he caught sight of her. His eyes travelled up and down her body, taking in every heart-wrenching detail. She wore an exhausted, somber look on her face and her eyes hopelessly avoided his. Her curls were a tangled mess framing her face, her bottom lip was split, the low cut of her tank revealed bruises along her neck and collarbone, and despite the way the long sleeves of the open flannel she wore covered her hands, he made out defensive wounds along her nails and knuckles. Without thinking, he reached out his hand, trailing his fingers gently along the red and purple bruises lining her neck and chest. The cold rain dripped down from his sleeves and onto her skin, sending visible shudders through her body.

“Hailey…” he whispered. Something broke in him when he noticed the way her eyes slowly fluttered closed as she relaxed under his touch.

“I’m okay, Jay,” she muttered, continuing to avoid eye contact with him. “Let me get you a towel, you’re probably freezing,” she said, moving away as he became aware of the way his body was shivering, the rainwater dripping down into a small puddle in her doorway. He stood there frozen, his eyes taking in the room from her door, noticing the knocked-over lamp and shattered picture frame on the floor.

What the hell happened here? He thought to himself before she reappeared in front of him, holding out a towel for him to wrap into. He stood a statue, only his eyes moving from the room and back to her, tears blurring his vision as the image of her battered body tore him apart inside. When he didn’t take the towel, she moved toward him, rising on her tiptoes to wrap it around his shoulders. She stepped back out of the way, and he stepped inside, just enough for her to close the door.

“What did he do?” he questioned, trying to remain soft with her even though his ire toward Burrows was spilling over inside of him. She sighed a shaky breath before turning around, finding a spot on the arm of her couch, flinching in pain lightly when she crossed her arms. He remained in the entryway, waiting for her to speak as rain droplets from his hair left trails down his face. He watched as she bit down hard, clenching her jaw as she concentrated on her thoughts.

“We went out last night,” she began, Jay taking note of the way she avoided saying his name. “It was getting late, we had a lot to drink. He had way more than me, way more than usual, but I didn’t oppose when he offered to walk me home. When we got out front, he emptied his guts into the bushes and asked me if he could come up for some water. I agreed, and he came up to my apartment. I pulled a glass from the cupboard, and when I turned around he was pressing me against the counter,” she said, the shakiness in her voice building up as she continued. Jay felt like he was going to be sick himself.

“He was trying to kiss me, holding me against the counter with one hand… groping me with the other. I told him to stop, that he was drunk, that I wasn’t interested. I tried pushing him away, but I was drunk myself… weaker and clumsier than I usually am. His hands were still on me, pulling, squeezing…” her voice trailed off as tears rolled from her cheeks. Jay was fuming with anger, ready to go kill the man with his bare hands that second.

“The more I struggled to get away, the more he laid into me. Punching me, choking me, putting his entire weight into my body as he forced himself on me,” her breath shuddered and she groaned as tears escaped her eyes. Jay’s head was pounding from holding back tears and vexation. The more she said, the angrier he became.

“Did he?” He asked fearfully, unsure of whether or not he wanted the answer. He felt that same heart sinking feeling he had when he asked her the same question so many years ago when he found out what Booth did to her. The same way it did back then, his voice broke with the words. He only hoped she didn’t notice the way he was completely falling apart with her. She shook her head as her puffy eyes blinked closed, sending tears down her cheeks.

“I was yelling at him to stop. Telling him no and pushing with every part of my body to get him off. He was so drunk he wasn’t even registering my words, but I was able to get a hit in, leaving him vulnerable for a split second. Long enough to catch him off guard. I laid into him until his face was so swollen I didn’t even recognize him. He got up and stumbled towards the door, falling into that table. I was able to shove him out of the apartment… and I just... I’m okay. Really. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” she said, looking down into the floor. Her words stung deep because he knew it really wasn’t anything she hadn’t had to endure before.

She was quiet for a moment, swallowing hard almost like she was trying to stomach every emotion that had to be consuming her. She stifled a series of whimpers and despite her best attempts, she fell apart completely. She clutched at her body with her arms as deep sobs shook her entire being. He wasn’t sure if he should approach her, wasn’t sure if touching her would trigger her, wasn’t sure what she needed in that moment.

So, he slowly made his way towards her, close enough to touch her, to remind her he was there and she was safe, but holding back as sobs continued to escape her mouth. She reached an arm out, trying to steady herself as she attempted to catch her breath. That was the affirmation he needed, so he carefully grabbed her by the arms, wrapping her up in his body slowly. She nestled into him and despite the cold and soggy mess he was, she clung tightly to him. They dropped to the floor as she fell apart. He rested his chin against her head as his arms squeezed her as tightly as they could. The rain droplets fell down his face and blended with the tears that spilled out of his eyes.

“Shh. I’ve got you. You’re safe. He won’t hurt you again. I got you,” he said, repeating the last three words over and over again in whispers. He felt her fingers clench tightly around his back and they sat like that for a while, huddled together on the floor until she had come down from it all.

She pulled away from his hold, keeping her fingers gripped against his back as he cradled her in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” her voice cracked with the words, and Jay responded instantly by shaking his head.

“No, don’t do that. You have nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered tenderly.

She reached a hand up, brushing a loose, wet curl from his forehead as he lost himself in her glossy blue eyes. Her eyes steadied him, casting out all of the rage that previously filled his body, and bringing him into an unexpected state of peace despite everything that just happened. She was all that mattered. Regardless of the trauma she had went through, in that moment, she was okay, she was safe, and she was in his arms. As she looked up at him, the pain and sadness that filled her eyes somehow coexisted with that familiar glimmer she only reserved for him, sending a fluttery feeling in his chest and a stroke of courage through his body.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words escaping his lips before his brain could even realize it. Her face fell with surprise, and tears refilled her eyes as he brought a hand to cup her cheek. His thumb swiped fragilely against her jaw as silence filled the room.

“I love you, Hailey” he said again, almost like he didn’t believe he said it the first time. Her mouth fell slightly agape as deep breaths sent her chest up and down steadily. Her watery eyes travelled from his eyes down to his lips, training themselves there for a moment as he took in every movement, every reaction to those words in the silence of her apartment.

In a flicker, she reached her head up and closed the space between them as her lips connected with his. She kissed him slow and steady. Her lips moved meticulously, delicately connecting and disconnecting from his as they each remained mindful of the wound on her bottom lip. It was a short kiss, but the feeling of her lips against his lingered long after she pulled away. She rested her forehead against his and stayed there as they each caught their breath. Silence surrounded them, and he felt like she could hear his heartbeat broadcasting loudly in the quiet.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” she blurted out as her eyes remained closed and her forehead stayed pressed against his. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his as she pulled away ever so slightly. The interruption caught him by surprise, and he became nervous. He worried that it was all too much, that he had ruined things by confessing his feelings, that the kiss was just a reaction to her emotions, and that her next words would be to send him away.

“Would you lay with me?” She uttered. He breathed out a sigh of relief. In any other context, he would’ve teased her for the suggestive nature of the question, but in that moment he knew exactly what she meant. She needed rest, a moment to forget about everything that happened, and just as comforting as it was to have her in his arms, he realized the feeling went both ways.

“I don’t mean-“ she began before he interrupted.

“I know,” he told her, nodding his head softly.

“But my clothes…” he said, becoming suddenly aware of the way his damp suit was stuck to his skin. She stood, offering him a hand to stand with her. His heart stopped in his chest when she pulled the towel off of him and moved her hands to his shoulders, sliding her fingers under his blazer and dragging it down his arms. Her small hands moved to the buttons on his shirt. He nodded when she sent him a silent question of consent. His breath came out in nervous shudders when her fingers slid across his bare chest, peeling his wet shirt from his body and letting it fall onto the floor. She continued undressing him slowly. It wasn’t sexual, it wasn’t awkward, and to his surprise, he didn’t even blush when he was left standing before her in only his boxers. It was intimate, sweet even, and his breath remained unexpectedly stable through it all. She grabbed the towel from the ground with one hand and his hand with the other, leading him to her bedroom. She settled him at the end of her bed and she brought the towel to his head, gently drying the loose droplets from the ends of his short, unruly curls. His gaze remained on her eyes the entire time, trying to convince himself that what was happening was real. She climbed into her bed and he climbed in on the other side, feeling an unexpected sense of comfort despite it being their first time sharing a bed, in just his boxers no less. Under the covers, she curled her body into his side. He wrapped his arm protectively around her and her hand came to rest against his chest. He grasped it in his, noting how small it was, rubbing his thumb gently over her bruised fingers.

“Thank you for coming here... making sure I was okay,” she whispered into his chest.

“Thank you for being okay,” he muttered back. She looked up, bringing her lips to the side of his jaw briefly before settling her head back on his chest. They laid like that for a while, and eventually she succumbed to sleep.

He laid awake with her head against his bare chest, staring at the ceiling, in complete disbelief of everything that had happened. Part of him was still full of anger, ready to find Walker and put him in the ground for what he did. Another part of him wanted to lay there with her in that moment forever. Walker would get what was coming to him, but in that moment she needed him, so that’s where he’d stay. It didn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t say the words back, but he didn’t care. He finally told her how he felt. He confessed his love for her with nothing but emotion and sincerity, and he finally knew what it was like to be kissed by her, to be wrapped in her warm body, and consumed by everything she was. They certainly needed to talk, to figure out what everything that happened would mean for them, but for him, for that moment, being there with her was enough.

[julieloveupstead]

"I'm Never Leave You" - Upstead

Chapter 4

- "Detective Rollins," she heard a female voice on the other end.

- "Hello, this is Detective Upton with the Chicago Police Department." - Hailey called the detective who had handled two similar cases to the one she and the team were handling a few years ago.

- "Hello. How can I help you, Detective?"

- "Today we started on a double murder case, similar to the one we found that the state was investigating a few years ago." - she explained to the woman on the other end. In the meantime, Sergeant Platt brought her, the autopsy results of the murdered boys.

- "Which one specifically?" - the voice on the other side pulled her from her reading.

- "It's about the beating, sexual abuse and then murder of two young men. We found drugs in the building with a similar tag. We think the two cases are connected." - Hailey elaborated.

- "And that's how I remember that case. We had a case like that, but we didn't have a suspect. When the son of one of the diplomats was murdered, the FBI took over the investigation, but as far as I know they didn't even catch anyone either. Practically, the investigation came to a standstill." - Detective Rollins said. But listen, email us with what you've found so far, and we'll compare it with ours and let you know." - suggested the Detective on the other end.

- "Okay, we'll send you everything we have right away, and I look forward to hearing from you." - and after a brief goodbye, Hailey hung up.

She went back to reviewing what she got from Trudy and then decided to call the FBI some more, who as Detective Rollins told her had taken over the investigation.

At the same time, Jay in Voight's office. Since the Sergeant wasn't there, he figured nothing would happen if he stayed there for a while, and If the Sergeant returned unexpectedly, Jay didn't care. If anything, after what he found out, he didn't care what opinion he would have of him or how angry he would be with him. As far as Jay was concerned, Voight might not be coming back. Back on the case, Jay had just spoken with an officer from the LAPD, and they also arranged to share information.

After the call, he returned to the bullpen, where Hailey was still talking. He sat down at his desk and watched her. He may have looked like a stalker, but he loved watching Hailey passionately do every single thing, even when they weren't together yet, the passion with which she gave herself to her work was remarkable, and he always appreciated that very much.

Hailey could feel Jay's burning gaze on her from the start and had to really try to keep her attention on what Agent Anderson-Li was saying.

- Jay, don't look at me like that," Hailey whispered as she ended the call.

- How am I looking? - Jay asked in an innocent voice, getting up from his seat and walking over to Hailey's desk.

- Well, like this - she pointed her hand at him. Jay sat down on her desk as usual.

- What do you mean? - he asked again, leaning over her.

- Like I'm your whole world - she whispered huskily.

- I can't help it if you're my whole world, Angel. - he whispered back.

Hailey gazed into his eyes and saw the loving look in his eyes until her heart beat a thousand times more, and if it wasn't for the fact that she was sitting, she was sure that she would have fallen intimidated by such great affection. She felt like she would never get used to how much Jay loved her.

For many years, she thought she didn't deserve to have a guy love her for who she was. Her father had admirably proven that for many years of her teenage life, and then the guys she'd been with when they found out what baggage she had left her behind. The exception was Garrett, but before things could get serious with him, he died at the hands of Booth and now that she's with Jay she can't believe that after everything he's learned about her and everything she's done he's still here looking at her with the same tender, loving and lustful eyes.

Since the day they started being together, Hailey thinks she's been dreaming and doesn't for the hell of it ever want to wake up from it.

- Jay, please don't say that - she couldn't help but have fears in addition to all the wonderful emotions she was feeling. Because what does he really see in her? After all, she's no one special. And after what had happened a few days ago, and not only that, all her pushback to cross the boundaries of the law, it all didn't look to her advantage. She was broken, and she knew that Jay accepted her like this 100 or even 200%, but she couldn't quell the fear that someday Jay would finally realize that there was nothing to glue together, or would he just be tired of it all and just walk away?

She used to think that the thing that kept her from telling Jay how I felt about him was the fear that he wouldn't feel the same way about her, but now she thought it was the fear that she would finally realize how complicated it really was and his leaving.

- Hailey...

- Guys, I found the owners of the house where we found these two boys. - Adam entered the bullpen, preventing Jay from finishing. They both turned towards him and waited for further information from their friend. - The owners are Margaret and Joseph Tremblay. - He walked over to the board and pinned up a photo, then walked over to the two detectives and gave them some cards. - Two years ago Margaret died after a months-long battle with cancer, shortly afterwards Joseph left for a retirement home. They had no children. - He explained.

- And do you know who he sold it to? - Jay asked.

- No one, Joseph was just renting it out, not to some Richard West guy. - replied Adam. - And I checked that no one with that name had rented the house recently. - He added when he saw the questioning look from his friends.

- So he was cheated? - asked Hailey.

- It seems so. - answered Adam. - The only question is by whom - said Jay.

- 'Okay Adam, we'll wait for Kevin and for Sergeant Smith and Officer Wilson, and we'll be done for the day, because we probably won't find one today anyway. - Jay sat down at his desk.

- Adam, do you know anything about Kim? - Hailey dared to ask her friend.

- 'Mhmm, her parents are sitting by her, and her sister texted me that her condition is stable, but the doctors are afraid to wake her up yet. - He replied, sitting down in his seat. Jay and Hailey looked worriedly at Adam, who, though he tried to hold back, had tears in his eyes. - I'm so scared for her. - He hid his face in his hands.

The pair of detectives looked at each other. They felt very sorry for their friend. Hailey knew exactly what the friend was talking about. After all, it had been over a year ago that Hailey had been in his shoes, and she remembered well the fear when she found out Jay had been kidnapped, and then waiting in the hospital waiting room for him to get some information and for him to finally wake up. It was like a nightmare. For months, she couldn't shake the images of Jay full of blood lying on the concrete floor and even to this day in her nightmares reliving it all over again.

She stood up and put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed in a gesture of support that Adam needed so much right now. Adam nodded in acknowledgement, Hailey smiled some more and went to the coffee room with a mug in her hand.

However, instead of making coffee, memories entered her head. She thought she had gotten over it, that she had accepted what had happened and moved on, but apparently this whole thing with Kim had caused the unwanted memories to return.

When Jay went missing, the worst part was the fear of not knowing where to look and that going around in circles was awful, and then the thoughts of whether she would make it in time or see him again. She was also angry with herself that something like this had happened, and until now she could not forgive herself that she had let such a situation happen at all. And when she finally managed to find him and saw his battered face her heart was breaking, but the fact that she found him beaten and bloody but alive helped give hope that all was not lost yet, that maybe they still had a chance. When Jay said he still had to come back for Angel, she barely held back the tears that started to appear at the corners of her eyes because it was all him. Jay Halstead, a man with a huge heart who always thinks of others first and himself last, even if it would cost him his life. And just when she thought the worst was behind her, it got worse. And waiting in that bloody room in the hospital waiting for any information about his condition and the emerging thoughts that this would be the last time she would see him was even worse. That's why he knows exactly what he might be experiencing right now.

Because knowing that the person you love so much is suffering, and you don't know if this is the last time you will see this person, is indescribable. Those things that you were afraid to tell him about, you may now not even have the chance to say anymore.

She closed the door and sat down on the couch. She brought her knees to her chest and just let go. She doesn't know at what point tears started streaming down her cheeks, and she didn't know if she was crying because of the memories, or because of Kim, or because of what happened in that damn warehouse, or maybe because of everything at once. She had to admit to herself that she felt tired of keeping herself in check in front of everyone, but most of all herself. She was already sick of it all. She felt a complete confusion in her head and did not know what she should do now. She knew that she would not be able to stand this way for long, that finally, after so many years, she had reached the limit of her endurance and did not know how to turn back.

When Hailey closed the door behind her, Jay still looked after her for a moment. He was worried, and he was worried a lot. He knew that the memories from over 1.5 years ago had to come back to her now because of Kim. Until now, Jay couldn't forgive himself for what he had done. When he was sitting in that basement and when they beat him and then after he was shot, his only thought was Hailey and her smile and how she would be mad at him. After that, he promised himself that he would never let something like that happen, that he would never let Hailey suffer. That's why he was so hurt by what Voight had done to her.

- Is Hailey okay? - Adam pulled him out of his thoughts.

- Mhmm, this whole Kim kidnapping thing has cost everyone a lot. - Jay didn't know how much he should say or if he should say anything at all, so he answered evasively. Adam just nodded.

- I remember when you were missing and Hailey was losing her mind. If it wasn't for her and what she did, I don't know if we would have found you. - Jay was puzzled by his friend's words and didn't know what to say, just stared at his companion.

He had never wondered how they had found him, he didn't know the need to revisit the subject. He was afraid that it would bring back bad memories and for him and most of all for Hailey, who he knew was going through a lot. - I know Hailey won't dare to do this, but I know her and I know that she loves you very much, you know that? - After a moment of silence Adam spoke again and again the honesty of his friend's words clobbered him. Now that he and Hailey were together to know that this wonderful person loved him was surreal, but in a positive sense of course, but when he heard it from an outsider, a person who doesn't even know they're together, it made his heart beat harder.

- I... Emm - Jay didn't know what he should say now, not to give too much away, and he was tempted to say out loud that he knew and that they were together, but he knew it wasn't something he should say himself.

- Jay - Desk Sergeant Platt came into the bullpen, delivering Jay from further conversation. Both men looked in her direction. - Nathan Robertson's parents had just arrived.

- Adam, will you come with me? - Jay looked at his friend, who nodded without hesitation. Before going downstairs, Jay took another look at the door to the break room where Hailey was staying and then approached Sergeant Platt. - Trudy, can I have a request? - The older woman just nodded, waiting for the young police officer to finally say something. - Could you sit with Hailey for a moment? - he asked quietly so that Adam, who was waiting for him by the stairs, could come over. Although he knew Hailey wanted to be alone, he didn't know if that was a good idea.

- Did something happen? - The Sergeant asked herself, surprised by her subordinate's request and most surprised by his worried look.

- You could say that. Serge, Hailey probably won't want to talk and will want to push you away but ... - He paused and looked away from Serge and looked in the direction his girlfriend was and then again at the older woman who was looking at him with a worried look. He realized suddenly that he trusted the woman standing across from him more than anyone on this command, much like Hailey, for whom Trudy was an important authority figure, and that was the only reason he'd dared after asking the Sergeant. - There's been a lot going on lately, and I'm just worried about her and I know she trusts you Serge like no one else and I trust you too. Hailey needs someone like you right now. - It was the first time he dared to say such a personal thing.

- Of course I'll sit with her. - Sergeant Platt hadn't been as moved by Jay's words in a long time as she was at that moment. The way Jay was worried about Hailey was heartwarming. It was the first time Trudy had seen, Jay so in love, and she was so happy that both of her best men were now happy.

- Thank you - Jay was grateful and sent the Sergeant a slight smile before joining his friend.

- Jay - before they went downstairs, though, Platt stopped them for another moment. - She almost forgot, I managed to identify the other boy. His name was Harry Bartel. He grew up in an orphanage and then was sent to a reformatory for theft and battery, where he had just met Robertson. - Jay nodded his head in understanding in passing, and then he and Adam finally went downstairs to the dead boy's parents.

Left alone, Trudy walked up to the locked room where she knocked on the closed door, and when she heard a quiet "please" after a moment, she entered.

Hailey was sitting on the couch and when she looked at the Desk Sergeant entering the room, she quickly wiped her wet cheeks and tried for a warm smile, but unfortunately a grimace came out.

- What's up, Trudy? - she said in a voice hoarse from crying, which she tried to mask with a grunt.

- Hailey, what's going on? - Trudy immediately noticed that she must have been crying, which immediately worried her.

- I don't know what you're talking about. - Hailey tried her best to sound normal and hide everything, hoping that the Sergeant would let it go. However, seeing the expression on the older woman's face, she knew she wouldn't succeed.

- Hailey, who are you trying to fool? - Platt sat down next to her subordinate and watched her vigilantly, sitting down at the table so that she could look at her. - Your boyfriend said it would be like this. - The older woman laughed, causing a puzzled look on Hailey's face.

- Did you talk to Jay? - Hailey asked herself in disbelief at the Desk Sergeant's words.

- Chuckles just confirmed what I've been seeing for the past few weeks, and I'm not talking about you, I mean what's going on with you. - She looked at her with a watchful, bone-penetrating gaze, making Hailey feel as if the older woman was reading her mind.

- Serge, it's all right, really - Upton tried again to convince the woman sitting next to her, and above all herself, that nothing was going on, but to no avail. With all her might, she did not want to let on that it was wrong, that something was going on. It's enough that he sees her so broken all the time, and that shouldn't be the case. Hailey doesn't like to show her weakness, that something hurts her, that there are millions of demons swirling around in her head that she can't deal with.

- You're a lot like me, you know? - said Platt in reply to Hailey, who was surprised by her words and waited for her to elaborate further. - From an early age I was taught that emotions are weakness, that if I am not tough, that if I show even the slightest weakness I will get nowhere. So I was like that at work and at home, which meant I was alone most of my life, but I didn't care too much because I worked in the police force, which was my dream, so as long as everything was going well professionally I didn't care that I had no boyfriend, no friends. At work, this frigidity helped me to survive in a world dominated by men. But then it started to bother me and when Mouch came into my life, everything changed. - It was a surprise that the Sergeant entrusted her with such private matters. She didn't really know why the older woman was telling her all this. - Look, Hailey, I'm not going to get you to confess to me, but I do want to tell you that if you want to talk to someone, and you don't necessarily want to tell Detective Chuckles, you know where to find me. - she assured Trudy.

Those words touched Hailey deeply. She closed her eyes and let out two deep breaths to calm herself. She wanted to tell Sergeant Platt the whole truth about what happened that day in that damn warehouse, but she was afraid that not only would she lose her job, but that Jay and the rest of the team would get in trouble, and she couldn't let that happen.

- Trudy, I appreciate your frowning at the truth, but I can handle it. - She turned her face towards the Sergeant. - But if something were to happen, or I wanted to talk, I know where to report. - she sent the woman a grateful smile.

- Okay - Trudy nodded, knowing she wouldn't convince Hailey to confide in her.

- Oh shit - Hailey looked at the clock hanging on the wall - I should send the documents to New York. - She stood up abruptly and without waiting for the Sergeant, she left the break room to meet Jay and Adam entering the bullpen at the same time.

- Do you guys have anything? - she immediately asked the men while crossing her arms over her chest.

- Nothing in particular. - Ruzek was the first to speak up.

- 'I don't understand how you can turn your back on your own kid,' snorted Jay as he dodged Hailey and sat down in his seat.

- What do you mean? - Hailey asked, looking at her boyfriend.

- Robertson was 15 when he first went to juvie and since then his parents had forgotten about him, and now they didn't even shed a single tear. Disbelieving. - Hailey could see that Jay was angry, at these people, and she wasn't surprised at all. She herself couldn't fathom why parents did so much evil to their children, it was incomprehensible. She walked over to Jay and put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it in a gesture of support. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, Hailey smiled slightly assuring Jay that she was fine and that she didn't need to worry, Jay returned the smile.

- 'What about Kevin? - Hailey asked, stepping slightly away from Jay.

- And with me, two pieces of information - as if on cue, Kevin appeared in the bullpen. - First of all - he went straight to the board and started to explain what he had found. - There are no drugs in our warehouses with that tag, nor any narcotics cop any dealer dealing the same amphetamine we found in that house.

- But? - spoke up Hailey sensing that Kevin was not telling all.

- But one of my informants heard some time ago that a big player had recently appeared in town, but he doesn't know who it is. He said as soon as he finds out something, he'll let you know.

- And that's all you've agreed on for five hours? - said a sergeant from the Homicide and Burglary department with a commanding tone, appearing out of nowhere together with his subordinate, who Hailey thinks looks at Jay too often.

- I don't understand? - said a visibly irritated Jay, standing next to Hailey.

- I mean, detective, that ...

- Sergeant, is there a problem? - unexpectedly in the room appeared Sergeant Voight and in truth Hailey, really tried, but she couldn't stop herself from violently drawing in air and instinctively moved closer to Jay.

- 'Your people haven't established anything for five hours,' Sergeant Smith explained in a smug voice. She felt Jay's muscles solidify and then felt his hand on her back, at which she instinctively moved even closer to him. She needed to feel the contact with his skin, to feel that he was there because that was the only way she could keep from giving in to the impending panic attack.

- Okay, Jay get all the information together and then you and Hailey will come to me - at that word I swallowed my saliva nervously and felt Jay clench his fists tighter. I stepped back so that my back was touching Jay's chest, to calm my nerves, to keep from being plunged into panic.

She wasn't ready to face their Sergeant yet.

- Sergeant Smith, welcome to my office. - and with that Voight entered his office, followed by the Sergeant from Homicide, to talk behind closed doors.

❁❁❁

- Adam go to the hospital and sit with Kim. - spoke up Jay after some time of work.

- What? - asked a surprised Adam.

- You stare at that phone for 30 minutes - said Hailey, turning towards him.

- Go Kim needs you - added Jay.

- Thank you - Adam started to pack his things and a moment later he was gone.

- You too - Jay turned to Kev.

- Thank you, but I will stay and help you. - protested the officer.

- Okay, whatever you want - replied Jay, shrugging his shoulders. - Hailey - Jay turned to his partner, who looked at him with a questioning expression on her face. - We've already sent everything to New York, and we'll probably have to wait a few hours for an answer anyway, so you can go home. - Come on. I'm not leaving you guys. - she said confidently.

- Hailey - Jay walked over to Hailey and sat down on her desk. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment and communicated only in their own way, without words.

- Jay, Hailey come to me - a grey-haired man leaned out of the office and Hailey regretted her decision to stay on District. Jay put a hand on his girlfriend's shoulder and whispered to her to go home after all, then got up and walked over to the Sergeant.

- Hailey has to do one thing with Kevin, so I'm going to have to suffice you myself,' Jay said in an unobjectionable voice. Hailey could see how angry he was and how hard he tried not to show it in front of her and Kevin, who completely didn't understand what was going on.

Hailey didn't want to go out and leave Jay alone, but on the other hand, she was afraid that she would lose control of her emotions as soon as the door closed behind her and the three of them stayed in that office.

- That's how one of my CIs spoke up, wanting to meet. - Kevin spoke up, trying to support his friends.

- 'Okay, go ahead - Voight spoke up after a moment, then walked into his office, followed by Jay, who closed the door behind him and sent her a smile to let her know that everything was okay. Hailey tried to smile as well, but for some reason she couldn't do it and a grimace came out.

- Come on, Hailey - she was pulled out of the shock she was in by the touch of a hand on her shoulder.

- Yes, I'm coming - she shook her head to get rid of unnecessary thoughts. She quickly gathered her things and a moment later she was already in Kevin's car.

She didn't want to talk and Kevin didn't press the issue, although Hailey could feel his worried look on her and knew he had a lot of questions. She laid her head against the glass and watched the passing streetlights. She closed her eyes and let a few tears run down her cheeks. She knew this was the first time Kevin had seen her like this, but she no longer had the strength to pretend to be strong, and she knew Kevin was one of those people she wasn't ashamed to show emotion around, and she also knew he wouldn't ask any questions if she wasn't comfortable. So now they were driving to her house and in silence, punctuated by street sounds.

[yeojaa]

Can I request more smut for A&A couple?? I love sexy jay and jinny RYFUIOOIDEWETYUKOJK

[ read angels & airwaves ]

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  gamer!jjk deserves his own warning.  but also cockwarming and a gross amount of love between these two.  wc. 1.5k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif because she is the pb to my j.  author note.  this is probably less sexy and more soft, but i hope you enjoy and i’m sorry it’s so late! ✨ 

He’s playing Overwatch - unwinding after a long day, dressed down in sweats and little else - when his chair starts rolling back, pulled by an invisible hand.  (Luckily, he’s only in queue, not yet matched into a game.  It’s easy for him to leave, exit out of the waiting screen as he continues his journey away from the desk, releasing his hold on his mouse, letting his keyboard hand fall into his lap.)  Feigned surprise trips across his expression, a subtle widening of his eyes, the softest hm? slipping like sandman’s dust from his lips.

“Play with me,”  you say in that way of yours, deceivingly sweet, lilting like the chorus of his favourite song.  (He thinks that’s what you’d be if you were anything else, played over and over in his thoughts, quiet in the background of his everyday life.  A kind reminder of your love, of your giggles and that cheekiness you offer in spades.  A heartfelt melody in A minor.)

(Jungkook wants to write something for you - because of you - he realises.  Of course he does.)  

He echoes your words back, pairs it with a quirked brow and a sing-song laugh that makes his eyes crinkle, long grooves dug into the bridge of his nose.  Sunshine pours between his teeth, lights up his entire face.  “You wanna play?”

Your answer is a shake of your head, freeing tousled strands from the haphazard bun you wear - the one that goes up any time you’re half-asleep (or gaming or simply too lazy to do anything else) - too many pieces askew to be sophisticated.  (It’s cute still, one of his favourite looks on you.  Messy, sleep-addled, real.)  

“I want you to play.”  The way you enunciate, throw heavy meaning into your words has him curious, chin canting when you round the chair, step to the side and brush a delicate hand through his crown of curls.  You push velvet away from his face, tuck it neatly behind his ear and smile so prettily he swears his heart might leap out of his chest.  The same hand falls over his with meaning, your own eyes the size of saucers.  Were you trying to communicate as if you were psychic?  He thinks you must be when you stare for longer than you need to, mouth pulling and pursing adorably, a wavering wall against whatever you want to offer but won’t.

When he relents, it’s with his hand curled around your wrist and a gentle tug of you closer.  (Because he always wants you closer.)  “Let’s play then.”

It takes you no time at all to settle into his lap, legs dangling around the back of his gaming chair, arms locked around his neck.  He imagines it isn’t the most comfortable position in the world but, well, Jungkook’s not going to complain that his girlfriend wants to cuddle.  Can’t even fathom the thought when you’re so warm and your weight feels like some sort of top-tier blanket.

“Good?”  

You simply nod into the small of his neck, cheek cold against his shoulder.  Maybe you’re just tired.  You haven’t been sleeping well the last few nights, if you could even call it that.  They were more midday cat naps, laid up in his arms on his free days.   

(Don’t worry, you’d said.  He did, anyway.)

When he wins his next three games, he thinks you might be a lucky charm - his own personal blessing, all his good karma offered in the form of victory.  The headshots are clean, the flashbang-right-click combos flawless.  Gold damage is his the entire time;  he’s racking up gold medals left and right with you there with him.

(It’s almost as good as when you play together, your damage boost enabling him to obliterate the enemy without worry.  Granted, the Mercy on his team isn’t bad either - but she’s no you.  Not the girl that makes his heart pitter patter in his chest, play some silly crescendo that feels like a sugar high.)

But then he begins losing, missing shots that should be easy, sends them into the dark, strangely distracted.  He doesn’t realise by what until it’s too late and the next roll of your hips makes him whine, the sound tripping off his tongue in a whimper.  

“Angel.”  The word is practically choked out, broken despite being only two syllables.  You’re still snuggled into his chest, seemingly innocent, unaware of the tension that grows, turning bone to brimstone.  He’s half-worried he’s getting riled up over nothing - turned on by only your closeness - when he feels the damp of your teeth, the sharp edge tickling over muscle.  For what it is, it shouldn’t flood his stomach with heat, have electricity tracking up his spine as if struck by lightning.  “What’re you doing?”

“Play with me.”  You repeat the words into his hair, thread them between the midnight strands as you stamp a sweet, chaste kiss right below his ear.  He thinks he might be able to resist you - until you’re tugging lightly at one of the silver hoops that line his ear, laving your tongue over the sensitive spot that has him seeing stars.

He parrots the words back to you but it isn’t a question this time.  More a promise, tenderness turning his smile soft, needy, utterly in love.

“Let’s go to bed.”  Not because it’s late - though it is, half past two in the morning now - but because he wants to feel you wholly, watch you fall apart in the comfort of your bed.  No more distractions, just the two of you.  Just how he likes it. 

“No.”  That surprises him, throwing him off his axis.  He’s halfway to a pout when you press a kiss, steal his brattiness away with one sweep of your lemon-lined mouth.  “You keep playing.”

Oh.

The time you take to slide his sweats down - taking his boxers with them, fingers hooked into the black band that hugs his hips - should be criminal.  It’s as if you’re doing it on purpose, tugging the material down carefully, balanced above him by his hands on your waist.  

(He steals the softest touches while you’re there, thumbs grazing the undersides of your breasts, fingers laying themselves into the rungs of your ribs.)

When they’re halfway down his legs, he kicks them off, lets them gather in a pile somewhere by his feet.  Forgotten - because he’s got much more important matters to attend to.  “Your turn,”  he hums - almost begs - when you settle back against him, straddling him as you had before, still dressed in his favourite grey shirt and your plain black thong. 

“Nope.”  You’re smiling down at him, more devil than angel, smile so sinful he feels his cock twitch against his stomach, hard and leaking pre-cum from the tip.

“But—”

The turn of your head further dislodges strands, has shadow throwing your features into muted light.  That’s not what has his attention, though.  

It’s your hand dipping between you, curling light around his length.  Pad of your thumb massaging over his head, slicking arousal until the glide is easy.  With a gun to his head, Jungkook couldn’t help himself from moaning, a keening sound that tickles your cheek and has heat flooding his own.  (You’ll be the death of him, he swears.)  “Baby, please—”

“Play,”  you repeat. 

He does, rolling himself forward, finding his mouse and keyboard with trembling hands.  

It’s cruel, what you’re doing.  (It’s also everything he could ask for, offered by the hand of the girl he loves most.  Even through the haze of desire, there’s affection that paints him pink, lights him up like a Christmas tree.)

(All he wants to do is fill you, fuck you full until you’re coming apart, crying his name out in that breathy way that drives him wild.  Playing his favourite song again again again.)

But he’s a good boy for you - always is - so he says nothing as he queues once more, tries his damnedest not to make a sound when he feels the press of his cock against your cunt, the heat that engulfs him when you take him in one fluid motion.

It’s as if his brain short circuits, as if you’ve rewritten all the code that makes him who he is.  He chokes a sound - a whine, a laugh, a cry - when you sink fully into him, curl those arms back around his neck.  You’re absolutely perfect, wet and warm.  Split wide open by how deep he is, clit flush against his pelvis, velvet walls yielding to the fullness.  

Whether he wins or loses his next games, Jungkook doesn’t care.  He’s already got everything he could ask for. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 19/?

Word Count: 4.1k

Author’s Note:

Warnings: Mentions of the court system, fighting, swearing, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

 Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Time Skip lol, February, next year. Finals.

She and Jason had been together for 6 months around February. When finals started coming up. The distance and tension between the two was fucking palpable. They hadn't fought or anything, but the stress between them had caused a slight riff. They just had space to focus on their studies.

They would see each other at work. She was his secretary. Everyone, all their friends, even their families, swore they just needed to bone. Which, considering they both heard about this from Bruce first, didn't mean they wanted to do it.

If you had asked Y/N, she would have said she wasn't dressing for Jason. But that was a lie. She was tempted to go with the advice everyone was giving them, especially before they went into their first finals exam. She walked into his office.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Well, I'm your secretary. Seeing if you need anything."

"I don't."

She turned to walk out.

"That doesn't mean you can walk out."

She smiled to herself, "Alright." She sat on the chair in front of his desk, "I won't walk out."

"Mhm."

She frowned, he didn't even look up from his computer. "What do you want me here for, Jay?"

"Close the blinds on all my windows, baby."

"It'll become dark."

"Good."

"Your eyes will fry from the light of your computer."

"Trust me, they won't."

"Uh-huh," she doubted as she closed the blinds.

Jason walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head in the crook of her shoulder. She smiled and leaned her head on his.

"Exams fucking suck," Jason said.

"Couldn't have guessed from the riff in our relationship, really? You don't say?" she sarcastically retorted.

"It's not like we had it easy this entire time, either."

"Fuck you don't say? At least my attacker was admitted to Arkham and my friends got out."

"Can't catch a break," he paused because his buzzer went, "Can't catch a fucking break!" he exclaimed, exasperated. He went and answered it, "Jason Todd, who's using Y/N (Last Name)'s buzzer," he said, sounding annoyed.

"Hey, it's Dick. You two aren't fucking right, B will be pissed."

"Shut up. We aren't. What do you want."

"Someone's pissed. I need paperwork."

"Come and get it."

She crossed her arms and laughed when Dick entered the room. She slightly waved. He slightly waved back.

"You know, you two should bone. But not here," Dick joked. He walked over to one of the many, many filing cabinets to search for the paperwork he needed.

"You're really just riding the wave into Jason running you down, aren't you?" Y/N said.

"Well, we're always up for sparring."

"It probably won't be sparring, Dick. You know your brother. He's staring daggers into the back of your head."

"For Valentine's, I'll be giving Barbara the stress of taking care of me after Jason beats me to a pulp."

"At least you'll get one last Gala?" she joked.

"Will you be coming?"

"She will," Jason said.

"Amazing. Don't fuck on the dance floor," Dick joked.

"Fuck you."

"Love you too, Jase," he turned to walk out, "Love you too, Y/N."

"I'll be sure to tell you I love you at your funeral, Dick," she joked as he walked out. She paused before turning to Jason, "Gala?"

"Come, please," he said before going to hug her. "I miss you."

"You see me every day, Love."

"But we haven't been," he paused, "Well, a couple. In weeks. I miss you. The fun one who got me to run down the streets of Gotham on a skateboard."

"Dress code?"

"White tie."

"Dammnit. Guess I'm shopping."

"I'll give you my debit card?"

"I don't need it, baby. However," she joked, "I sure will take it."

He laughed and forked it over to her, "Don't spend my Ph.D. funds."

"I will gladly spend your Ph.D. funds."

"No," he laughed, "Please, I need those."

"I mean if you insist I spend it all," she said, laughing.

"The Gala's later tonight, you can take the rest of the day off."

"Kind of you to do."

"I know, I'm a gentleman."

"Truly," she kissed him. "I'll see you tonight."

"Can I come to get you?"

"Feel free too."

"Alright. I love you."

"I love you," she said before she left the office.

Getting into her car, she fumbled with the mirror a bit. She looked like a mom. The bags under her eyes and the formal get-up for an office job did her in.

They had said "I love you" for the first time around Christmas. She wished she caught the moment where they were fucking around and she just said it.

The Christmas lights surrounded them, hung in the trees. They had gone to see the New York City tree in Times Square. He was setting up a photo to take of the two of them and she just said it.

She could have sworn his fucking eyes lit up with green. Like they glowed.

Reminiscing on those small moments with Jason was something that would make her smile without fail. That man somehow unlocked a new set of feelings, stronger feelings. She was in touch with herself.

She went to her house first, to see how A/N was doing. To see her on the steps. She pulled into the driveway.

"Hey, you good?"

"Huh? Oh! Yeah, of course. Why?"

"I have to go get a dress for a Wayne Gala trademark, do you want to come to help me?"

"Of course I do!"

---------------------

"I guess you could say we didn't narrow shit down about a dress," Y/N joked as she came out in the 16th dress she had tried on.

"Okay, well, that one is the best so far," A/N said, seeming like they finally made progress.

"Wow, this is news, we've narrowed it down."

"Honestly consider it a miracle. Thank God Jason let you go from work early. Are you getting a full day's pay?" A/N asked.

"Probably. I told Bruce I didn't want a full day's pay if I wasn't there, but Bruce said it was in my contract. I think he's just being generous," Y/N said with a sigh.

"Did you not read your contract?"

"I did! That's why I think he's being generous. I don't think I'd forget something like that."

"Watch you did forget those words. You should ask him to see your contract, if he's disobeying it then the board members are probably at his ass about it," A/N explained.

"God, please no. I would hate being a contention point for the board members."

"They probably want you fired. And they're probably mad that you won't be fired because you're with Jason."

"Well, I'm also just a great secretary"

"See, each time you say that I assume it's because you give him a little something-something under his desk every day."

"I'll have you know we've never had sex in that office."

"Did you have sex in another office?" A/N questioned.

"I'm pleading the 5th to any further questioning."

"Wait, oh my god."

"Nope! Going to go try on another dress and ignore you now!" Y/N exclaimed with a joking tone.

"This one's the best," A/N said.

"We're making progress! I'm thinking if I go with this one, I add gloves."

"God, are you trying to give Jason a hard-on?"A/N joked.

"I would like to plead the 5th to any further questioning on the matter," Y/N retorted.

"You're evil. If you're going to be evil, you might as well wear a suit."

"I wish. After all the shit I've been through, I want to stick it to the fucks who keep judging me. I'm already so jeopardized, though. Jason goes through a lot of shit dating me. I'll wear the dress."

"Old white people are old white people."

"Well, Bruce is nice at least. If he's judgemental, at least I don't hear about it on the news," Y/N said and twirled. "Yeah, this one. I like this one."

"I also like that one. There's something about silk. Always gets someone to look like 50 million dollars. Probably worth that too."

Y/N fumbled with the tag, "It's not pure silk, so it's less. Only 1000$."

"Only 1000$? God, that's like our rent."

"Rent is more."

"Well if we weren't in a house it would be the same. That's insane. That's like 3-4 months of groceries."

"I know it's a lot to us commonfolk, but Jason is rich. He wouldn't mind. We might, but he wouldn't."

"Yeah, but do you feel okay with spending that much of his money?"

"I have no idea. We'll see. I'll go try another dress on."

"This is cute," Y/N said.

"Well of course it is, it's probably worth your college scholarship, though."

"God, don't remind me of prices."

"It's hard to forget prices when we're given a lot of money to spend."

"We can't spend all of it!"

"What's he using it for?" A/N asked in a half-joke.

"He's getting a Ph.D. in Criminal Psychology when we graduate."

"Okay, okay. So he needs it."

"Yeah, he doesn't let Bruce pay his bills, remember. He's making his own money, minus the working-for-his-dad part."

"Yeah, the working for Bruce part seems a bit counterintuitive."

"If he's getting paid, it doesn't matter to him."

"What's it even like working with his family? Especially with the tension between you and Jason?"

"It sucks. Jason and I haven't fought, yet. We have to act like we aren't fighting. Which makes everyone think we are fighting. Which makes both of us mad. Because apparently," she paused, "The way to fix fighting is having sex, apparently."

"So have sex?"

"Shut up."

"Family on your nerves?" A/N asked.

"They're so involved, but I love them all. I just wish we had a moment alone, I know it's hard to do in a fucking office, but still."

"Go try on another dress. Show up looking like a million bucks."

"You are simply so right."

"I feel like this is the mature version of the black sparkly spaghetti straps one," A/N said.

"It's like you mashed a bunch of words together and suddenly I have to sell you my first-born son."

"Well, it's true!" She laughed, "It's a grown-up version, what someone, old white people, would expect of you."

"Old white people expect a lot."

"Jason's going to be one, one day," A/N joked.

"He's got not-white features," Y/N said, trying to picture his face. There was something about him. Something not-white. She had always picked up on it, but she could never tell what it was.

"Well, it's not like you can ask his mom her ethnicity."

"Jeez, that would be so rude of me to do. Let's just say it's... it's not my place."

"He's got secrets?" A/N questioned.

"Tall, handsome, mysterious. That's my Jason."

"A little bit of everything, all of the time," A/N said in a sing-song tune, specifically the "Welcome to the Internet" tune.

"Don't quote Bo Burnham to me, that album broke me," Y/N joked

"Who didn't it break? Oh, wait, probably Jason."

"He probably sobbed like a baby at it, I don't know where you got the "Emotionless" trope from, A/N."

"Can you blame me? He's a Wayne."

"Those are some of the most emotionally connected people I know? Like, genuinely, they're probably more in touch with themselves than you and I."

"Well, they don't exactly have the reputation for being able to discern their emotions, you know."

"You need to stop interacting with tabloids and their articles," Y/N said, seeming exasperated with the tabloids and the line of conversation. But that was nothing new. She hated the press, the articles, the paparazzi. She hated them all.

"Yeah, probably. You hate them for a reason."

"Do you not know about that time they made it so we couldn't get into our car?" Y/N asked.

"You did, you did."

"Fuckin' tabloids."

"Go try on another dress before you explode from rage."

"Valid," Y/N said, laughing.

"God, if only this wasn't a white tie event," Y/N said and sighed.

"I mean, you could just wear it."

"I will get my ass handed to me, however," she said, taking a picture, "Maybe Jason will just let me get it if I pay him back?"

"You don't have the money right now?" A/N asked.

"I need to get paid and I'll have enough," Y/N explained.

"Don't tell me this is worth more than our rent."

"I will just simply not tell you."

"Girl, you can't."

"Money is dumb and I hate it."

A/N laughed, "Which one do you want to go with?"

"Uh, probably the silk one."

"Temptress."

"I will literally buy and wear a corset to make Jason's life hard to get you off my back," Y/N laughed.

"I implore you to do so for the joke."

"Shut up," Y/N joked.

She still sent the picture of the last dress to Jason off-handedly. Asked him how he felt about it since she knew she loved it.

Why don't you just get it? He had sent back.

Can't afford it.

I can.

Please let me pay you back for this.

Just take me on a date.

I can do that.

You should.

I'll see you soon.

She laughed and grabbed both dresses.

"Jason's buying both?" A/N asked.

"Mhm! I have to take him on a fun date in return."

"You were probably going to do it both ways, honestly."

"You just know me so well."

-----------------------

They had gone and gotten the gloves before heading back to their house. Laughing and blasting rock songs the entire time. There was something about the bass running through the car and having the windows rolled down while screaming the songs. It was insane.

One of the songs they blasted was "I Think I'm OKAY" by Machine Gun Kelly and YUNGBLUD, switching out the vocals. It was fun to take breaks like that and, just enjoy each other's presence. Especially during finals season, where both of them were stressed because of their respective finals.

Everyone was stressed. Finals did that to everyone. Whether someone was in school or not, they felt the teenagers and college students lose their minds about it.

They got out of the car at their home and took the dresses inside. A/N went to go study in her room while Y/N went to go hang up her dresses. She entered her room and instantly remembered why she hated her laptop.

The laptop fan was deafening, it's why she barely had Jason over at her house anymore. She cleaned it constantly but, it kept going and going.

She brought it to the Wayne Manor over the Winter Break because she had work to do but wanted to see Jason, and everyone, everyone, commented on the thing.

They compared it to a screaming goat, an electronic mess, a horse-powered fan, anything they could put together with electronic, goat and fan, they called the laptop that.

Bruce even offered to buy her a new one, but she declined. She didn't think it was broken, so it didn't need to be replaced or fixed. If it was still in working condition, she was going to use it until it bluescreened on her.

Much to everyone's dismay.

She hated the fucking thing. So if she could drown it out with music, you bet your ass she did. She was grateful that her parents had sent it to her, but she assumed it was because they hated it too. She was right. No one liked that laptop.

She went to go shower. She figured if she fucked with her appearance and hair a bit, then the press would get off her back. She hadn't exactly tried to impress them thus far. But she wanted to just live her life.

She figured doing her hair, makeup, wearing the right clothes, she'd get harassed less. There was a lot of pressure dating a Wayne, she had realized.

She was constantly in the media, somehow she became an idol for little girls in the span of months. It was a lot for someone to take on. She embraced it normally. With open arms normally.

But A/N had told her that she started sleep-talking. Screaming about the eyes, the people watching her. She knew it was probably connected to the stress she was under dating Jason, but she really didn't want to deal with it.

If she ignored it, no one could tell her to deal with it. If she hid it, no one had to see it. She was looking into soundproofing her room so that A/N didn't have to see it.

Was it healthy to do that? Probably not. Probably far from the concept of healthy coping mechanisms.

She got out of the shower and started playing with her appearance. If she ended up with loud makeup and hair after this, she was going to just accept it.

She did end up with pretty loud eyeshadow. But her hair was fine, as acceptable as it could get for everyone judging her. Only nude lipstick that was just two, maybe three shades darker than her skin was what she needed. She kind of overdid the eyeshadow, so it had to be balanced.

Nerves by Icon for Hire was playing in her room. And in a way, that was how she felt. There was a lot of feeling in her, that she wasn't made for the life she was starting to lead. That being an idol was how she was going, but she couldn't do it.

She sighed and put on heels. White heels. It would be easier to put them on before the dress and gloves. The corset came on next. IT wasn't anything special, and she was capable of putting it on without help.

But then the dress.

"She loved that dress, but it wasn't the other one. The other one sparked a little bit of joy in her, while this one just conformed to everyone's opinions of her.

She wanted to wear the other one, so, so, fucking badly.

And finally the gloves. It was an outfit she thought was cute but would be torn to shreds in the media. She knew that.

The media liked to eat her alive.

Part of her wanted a break from it all. The other part wanted to do an interview with the press, to shit-talk all of them and make them weep. She wanted to be the one to destroy them.

Revenge was best served cold though, and the rage was far too hot in her head to even begin a proper essay on why they sucked.

She turned off the music in her room and was greeted with the lovely sounds of her computer fan. Comforting, but hatred.

Jason was going to be there any minute. Was she even ready for a Gala?

They had been through so much.

---------------------------------

She walked to his car. He brought one of the fancy ones.

"You couldn't just like, own a not expensive car?" she joked.

"Why would I do that?"

She laughed and handed him his debit card, "I don't know, to keep the press off your ass?"

"I think they'd find us no matter what," he said as he backed out of her driveway, "You look beautiful by the way."

"Thank you, Love. You're as handsome as always."

"Simp."

"Alas, I admit it," she joked as she turned on the radio. "I swear the media is going to have a field day today."

"When do they not?"

"That's fair."

"I'm sorry this school year's been fucking our relationship," he sighed, "We deserve better and a better chance than what we've been dealt."

"Unfortunately that's how school works."

"Fuck school sometimes. Not everyone gets as hit as badly as us."

"It's the psychology teachers. If any teachers are strict, they are."

"We still deserve a break."

"Well, there's always when finals are over."

"I swear we're doing something nice when finals end."

"That's not that hard to do."

The tension in that car was palpable. Truly, you could cut that with a knife. A diamond's edge.

They got to the Gala before anyone, except the Waynes.

"Hey lot," Y/N said.

"Y/N! Glad you could make it!" Stephanie said and pulled her into a hug, "The guys suck, so I like you the most today."

She laughed, "What did they do?"

"They won't play rooftop tag with me."

"Why do you even play that game?" Y/N asked.

"Agility! I'm a track star, duh. I drag them with me."

"Ah, how could I be so foolish," she laughed as Stephanie pulled her towards the other girls. Y/N waved at the boys while laughing. "You do know I have a boyfriend who wants to see me, right?"

"It's Jason."

"Good observation."

"Shut up. I claim you."

"You can't claim me!" she jokingly exclaimed, loud enough for the boys to hear.

"Steph, that's my girlfriend!" Jason yelled back.

"Not anymore!" She yelled as she pulled Y/N into the building.

"Explanation?" Y/N asked, "Do you have an issue or something?"

"I don't. Babs does."

"Go on?"

"Ask her."

Y/N sighed and walked up to Barbara and Cassandra, "I heard you have an issue or something?"

"Yes! You! Okay so," Barbara said, "We're all worried about you and Jason."

"Oh, Jeez," Y/N sighed.

"No no, listen. We can feel the tension. Have you been fighting?"

"I told you before, we aren't."

"Then what is it? 'Cause I'm known for being a detective, hello, I'm Jim Gordon's daughter. And even I can't figure it out."

"Probably exams. Exams suck."

"Oh! It's because you're not used to the fame," Cassandra said.

"Okay, Cassie. Listen, it's-"

"It is isn't it!" Stephanie exclaimed.

"Ugh. Yes. Are you happy now?"

"C'mon, it isn't that bad is it?" Barbara asked.

"It is. They've been at my throat with daggers ever since I met Jason."

"Who's been at your throat with daggers?" Jason asked.

"Don't worry about it," Y/N said before anyone could open their mouths and say to the contrary.

"Well, then. Everyone should be here soon," Bruce said. "Wish we had entertainment this time."

"Can't Y/N sing?" Tim asked.

"Uh, yeah?" Y/N said.

"So sing," Tim said.

"Tim. C'mon. Don't do me like this, man."

"Think about it," Bruce said and put a hand on her shoulder, "It could be fun."

She laughed and everyone scattered except her and Jason.

"So, the daggers comment?" he asked.

"Media reference."

He sighed, "You can always step out of the spotlight, my love. Step down, walk away from their eyes but still be in mine."

"I'll think about it."

He took her hands, "You should think quicker," he joked.

She laughed and he pulled her into the ballroom she knew all-too-well at this point. The first time she was there ran through her mind like no one was watching, the beauty in her memory for capturing it like that.

She knew once the pictures were released she'd probably attempt to paint it.

Galas were stuffy and full of people. She didn't like the people aspect. When strangers would come up to her and start talking, she'd get freaked out. They knew her, but she didn't know them.

She wasn't involved in getting to know people high-up in the world. She was a simple secretary who was dating one of the CEOs.

She'd get twirled around by people's sons. Stuck in dances and conversations. She almost always found herself with one of the Waynes after she ran from someone she didn't know.

She did figure if she sang she'd get away from everyone. So, in a fit of trying to get away, she found her way to Selina.

"Hey!" she said.

"Y/N! Are you running again?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Do you want to sing or something, Bruce said he asked you to."

"He did, and I figured, "Fuck it" so here I am."

Jason came up just as she said that, "Duet?" he asked.

"Now that's an idea and a half."

"You kids, always doing crazy stuff," Selina joked, "Le me see what I can do for 'ya."

"We're really doing this?" Jason asked as Selina slinked off.

"I guess so!" she exclaimed and he pulled her in for a kiss.

"Really saying "Fuck you" to the press today, huh?"

"Well, they're always saying "Fuck you" to me."

[theaviskullguy]

Ink and Petals

@dapple-dualies-propaganda here's the au

Tattoo artist! Rider x Florist! Goggles

hope you enjoy!

---------

When was it not busy at Squid ink?

It was one of the top Tattoo Parlors in Inkopolis. and it was also on a pretty busy street. So, it got a lot of customers. Also the fact that one of the artists was a famous turfer.

Rider hadn't formerly retired, but he had eased out of playing Turf Wars. He had found other interests outside of the sport: Theater, art, reviewing old movies online... He still did Turf from time to time, albeit the adult league. He was too old for the more popular teen division.

So, he found a job as a tattoo artist. And he rather loved it. Not only did most of his friends consult him for tattoo advice (from where the best places are to good designs), but he also knew some gossip. One of his regulars had beef with her neighbor because he has a pet raccoon who keeps stealing her trash and Rider could NOT wait to hear more about this story.

Another thing was, well, Rider had seen some shit. From people covered head to toe in tats, to people eagerly wanting their first tattoo, even to shyer folk who wanted one to defy controlling parents or to mark something important.

None of that prepared Rider for the news he got when tattooing one of the customers. More specifically, Gloves.

You see, Gloves had been coming in for the past few days. They had wanted a pretty complicated butterfly tat, so for the last 3 days Rider has been exchanging stories with the resident enby about... pretty much anything.

This is how this exchange happened;

"So you remember Goggles, right?" Gloves asked.

Rider rolled his eyes. "What, you think I'd forget the guy who kept pulling down my pants?"

"Oh ha ha. Anyways, apparently he works at that flower shop now."

"...He what?"

"You heard me!" They said. "I went there yesterday to get something for a project and there was Goggles! He misses you, 'ya know!"

Rider was just. quiet. He hadn't talked to his crush in a while, contact dwindled when Rider stopped doing Turf as much. Never once did he think Goggles would miss him, but that was probably the self hatred talking.

"...I'll think about it." Was all Rider said.

The conversation continued like nothing happen; Gloves saying multiple cursed things and Rider sharing interesting stories he heard on his job. Time flew by and soon, the tattoo was done; a butterfly with the bi colors on one wing and the nb colors on the other. Rider was quite proud of it, and Gloves seemed to like it. They waved, and left the store, humming to themselves.

Rider looked at the clock. His shift ended in just a few minutes. He knew he had no other appointments that day, so he took to watching old recorded matches in his phone.

Those were over a decade ago. Yet he still remembered everything. His favorite part was still learning he won a match by such a small margin. It was just... amazing.

He sighed. Rider missed those battles. But he has to say, he missed his crush a bit more.

He clocked out, saying goodbye to the other employee-Cherry (business relationships were easy to maintain when your coworkers were your siblings), and headed towards the flower shop for more reasons than one.

Army had a performance the next day. And yeah, Rider knew it was romantic, but platonically giving your best friend flowers was always nice. Plus, he wanted an excuse to see Goggles again.

He looked into the shop-the blue inkling was nowhere to be seen, but then again neither was the front desk. So, Rider shrugged and stepped in.

The floral scent was strong, but not overwhelming. Plenty of blossoms lined the stands, along with tags of what the flowers were and what they meant.

Rider looked around, trying to remember which flowers Army liked again, when he heard a familiar, youthful voice.

"Hi! Need any help?"

The inkling turned around. Goggles had definitely changed since Rider last saw him; his tentacles were longer and in an actual bun, for once. His blue eyes still had that clarity, and he still had that goofy smile. Though he didn't seem to recognize Rider.

"Uhh... I'll be fine. I'm just trying to remember what flower my friend likes the most." He said, hoping his accent didn't give him away; there weren't many in Inkopolis with an Australian accent.

But, Goggles didn't seem to notice or care. "Oh, okay!"

Rider internally breathed a sigh of relief. That would have been awkward if Goggles recognized him.

He looked around the shop, before spotting a bouquet of lilies. He knew Army liked lilies. If they weren't his favorite flower, it'd be close enough.

Rider took a few of the bigger ones, and a few white roses for variety, and took them to the counter.

Goggles smiled. "This a special occasion?"

"Not exactly. Just, my friend's doing a performance for a musical and I wanted to get him something for it." Rider explained.

"What musical?" Gogs asked, arranging the flowers with a sheer, white ribbon tying them together.

"Hadestown. He got Eurydice."

"Oh! I went to go see it last night! Army's amazing at that role. He's your friend, right?"

Rider internally panicked, but calmed down after remembering he wasn't Army's only friend. "Yeah. We've been friends for a while now."

"Well, tell him I said hi!" He handed the bouquet to Rider. "On me, alright? It's for a friend anyways!"

Rider nodded. "Thanks, mate."

"You're welcome!"

------

A few weeks went by. Rider occasionally stopped at the flower shop and got flowers for...well, no real reason. He'd use them to add color to his house, or give them to friends. He just wanted an excuse to see Goggles.

He'd talked to the blue inkling a bit more, too. He'd gotten into the business since, well, he really liked flowers, and he wanted a job where he could just...relax! He still did Turf, of course, but the Adult league was more serious than the teen one, and he just wanted to have fun instead of be expected to take a game seriously.

He still didn't recognize Rider. The yellow-green inkling was a bit hurt by this, to be honest.

Though, it was a bit startling when Goggles actually walked into Rider's work. And Rider was assigned to give Goggles his first tattoo: A blue jay on his shoulder, taking off from a branch.

This time, it was Goggles' turn to ask questions as Rider worked.

"Sooo.... you've been coming into my shop for a while and I still don't know your name!" The blue inkling stated. "I mean, you can probably recognize me though!"

Rider shrugged. "Well, who can forget Goggles of the Idiot Blue team?"

Goggles giggled. "You do know me! I still don't know you!!"

"...I can assure you, we've met before that day I got Army flowers." Rider said.

"Ooh! Can I try and guess who you are?"

"Ehh, why not."

"Okay! Umm..." Goggles thought for a moment. "Clams facemask?"

Rider shook his head. "Nope."

"Inkfall?"

"Wrong."

"Eging Jr?"

"Not even close there."

"Stealth Goggles?"

"Getting closer, I'll give you that."

"....Rider?" Goggles asked.

Rider chuckled. "Took you long enough, idiot."

Goggles smiled wide. "I finally found you! Hi Riri!"

"Hey, Gogs. It's been a while."

"Yeah! I'm a bit surprised I didn't recognize you, since we were pretty close!" Goggles stated.

Rider shrugged. "Well, I'm not the most memorable person anyways."

"Riderrrrr don't say that!" Goggles said. "You're still really popular!"

"To some people, maybe. Not everyone."

There was a tense silence, other than the hum of the tattoo needle as it made the drawing.

"....So." Goggles started again. "How's life?"

"It's...well, better than it was." Rider said. "Got my own place, for one. Though it gets a bit lonely.. You?"

"I'm still living in an apartment. I really want a roommate!" Goggles proclaimed. "Maybe we could move in together?"

"..I'll think about it, Gogs. Though it might be fun being your roommate."

"Really? Thanks Rider!" Goggled smiled.

The conversation grew more casual. Rider enjoyed it; turns out Goggles had his fair share of gossip. It was kinda cool.

And as the next few days passed, Rider looked forward to each of those sessions. His crush seemed to go from "this person would be fun to date i think" to "hOLY MOTHER OF THE GODS IM IN L O V E", and it didn't help that during those meetings, Goggles had to be shirtless.

The days turned into weeks and months. Goggles moved in with Rider, and the two became incredibly close friends.

And, it came to a head near valentines day. Goggles' shop was very busy, as expected. Luckily, Squid Ink wasn't as much.

So, on his day off, just before Valentines, Rider headed to the flower shop and got a bouquet of roses. Cliché to confess on Valentines day, Rider knew, but he's a pining gay cut him some slack.

And Rider came home right as Goggles was leaving for his shift. So, that left Rider with a good 3 hours to practice his confession.

"Alright, Rider. This has to be CASUAL. 'Hey, I've liked you for over a decade but just now had the confidence to confess!' No, too creepy sounding. 'Yo, Gogs. I really like you and maybe we could go out to dinner sometimes?' ...Too casual."

....Yeah, this went on for a while.

Rider groaned, collapsing his his bed. "I wish feelings were fucking easier...I should just call Army."

So, he grabbed his phone and selected the contact, Veronica Sawyer Kinnie

"C'mon, Army... pick up."

And not one ring later, "Rider, what is it?"

"...I need romantic help. Please." Rider asked.

"Look, just because I'm married to Aloha, doesn't mean I know how I ended up here."

"Yeah, I kinda know that." He stated. "Still. I really need some help."

Army sighed. "Who is it? It's totally that one person with the raccoon story-"

"Actually, no. It's, um.... It's Goggles."

The octoling on the other end of the line could be heard sighing. "Still a morosexual I see."

"OI! You're the one who married a fuckin himbo!"

".....Touché. Still, there's a difference."

Rider huffed. "Just... give me some advice. I wanna confess to him tomorrow but I've got no idea how. I'm giving him roses, but like, there's gotta be something more I could do, y'know?"

"Have you tried asking Prince?" Army suggested. "He is the one with the obsession with rom coms and romance novels."

"This is his exam period, Army. I'm not about to potentially interrupt a cram session by asking for romantic advice!"

"Fair enough. I'd say...well, just rip off the band aid. Like... 'Hey, Goggles, I really like you and was wondering if you'd like to be my boyfriend.'"

"...Thanks, Arm. I'll, uh, give it a try."

-------

Rider couldn't sleep that well. Mainly out of anticipation.

He was gonna confess to his crush of...over a decade, at least. He didn't fuckin know what was gonna happen!

Like, would Goggles reciprocate? Would he hate Rider after it? WHAT THE FUCK WOULD HAPPEN-

He sighed. He needed to get his mind off this shit.

Rider looked over to his bedside clock: 5AM. 5 hours before his shift. 5 hours to get his shit together and plan for confessing to the world's cutest but also dumbest man later that night.

C'mon, Rider. Think. Army said to rip it off like a band aid, but Goggles might find that a little sudden and out of the blue. He could write a letter and leave it for Goggles when he went to his shift (The flower shop was closed on Valentines day). That would be a safe option.

Rider sat up, and got out a piece of paper and pencil, writing a note.

"Hey, Goggles.

There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while. I really, really like you. As in, a crush.

I totally get it if you don't like me back, or think I'm weird, but hey, I was wondering if you'd wanna go out to dinner or something. Probably not tonight cause of Valentine's day but maybe tomorrow night or something.

-Rider"

Quickly, he folded it and wrote Goggles' name, putting a little heart sticker on it. It was corny, but hey, Rider had to use up those stickers somehow.

Rider attached it to the roses, and kept it on his desk.

And so, the morning went as normal. He had breakfast, got out of his pjs, put his hair up... the usual.

But as Rider left to go to work, he left the note and rose on the table, and left the house quickly.

During the day, he nearly forgotten all about it; He caught up with the gossip-Apparently the neighbor with the raccoon and the regular were now dating. So that was a nice little end to the story.

Squid Ink wasn't AS busy-probably because it was Valentines day, people were spending it with their lovers, not getting inked up (unless they made the appointment when single)

And it was near the end of Rider's shift when he heard his name mentioned. Probably someone making an appointment before he heard the familiar voice of Goggles going "Okay!!"

The blue inkling walked over to his station. "Hi Ridey!!"

"...Hey, Gogs. Getting another tat?" Rider asked, trying to keep his cool.

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!!!"

"A'ight anything specific in mind or-"

"Can I get just a simple quote one?"

Rider nodded. "Where do you want it?"

Goggles pulled down the collar of his shirt slightly. "Right here, please!"

"Okay. Just try to keep holding that down so I don't mess up.

-----

And so, tattoo conversations ensued.

The quote Goggles had wanted was a simple Pride one, that said "love is love". It was discreet, but a bit of it could be seen poking out if Goggles ever wore a v-neck.

"So, any plans for tonight?" Rider asked, trying to keep things subtle. Maybe Goggles hadn't read the note yet.

The blue inkling nodded. "Kinda! I had mental plans buuuuut nothing serious."

Rider raised an eyebrow. "Who with?"

"..I m-mean, I still have to ask him.." Goggles' face turned a shade of blue, and he averted his gaze.

"....Can I guess who he is?"

"If ya can!"

He smiled. "Does his name have an R in it?" Rider had a guess it was himself, but it wouldn't hurt to check.

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!"

"Got an accent?"

"Yep!!"

"Is he doing your tattoo?"

"....y-yeah?" Goggles sheepishly smiled. "I'm n-not that discreet, am I?"

Rider chuckled, but on the inside he was screeching. "Honestly? I had no clue myself."

"Really? I've been dropping the most obvious hints!"

"...Like what?" Rider asked, now a bit curious.

"Welllll I've been picking movies you like during movie night, I've made sure to get your drink on coffee runs, Oh! And I offered to cook dinner that one time!" Goggles stated.

"...Damn. I'm just oblivious then." The former dynamo user laughed, before turning off the needle. "There. It's all done." Rider held up a mirror for the blue boy.

Goggles' face lit up. "Whoa! It looks amazing!!! Thanks Riri!"

Rider smiled. "You're welcome. Now, uh, ...did you read my note?"

"..Y-yeah, I did. And, um...I like you too Rider!!" The blue man pressed a small, quick kiss to Rider's cheek.

Rider blushed. "S-so, you'll let me t-take you out?"

Goggles nodded. "Yeah!!!"

"I...thanks, Gogs."

"You're welcome Riri!!!"

----------

aAAAAA RUSHED END

but like. hope yall enjoy!

[friggsdc]

Title: little delinquent pt iii

part ii | part iii | part iv

Warnings: Female!reader (bat!sis), mostly family fluff, AU, hurt/comfort, Jason’s language

Word Count: 4700~

Synop: It had Bruce and Dick sharing a look for a moment before the latter spoke up, “It’s not like I’m against continuing to expand the family, but…” he eyed the child you held nervously, “please don’t start bringing home every child you find…” he tilted his head, “he’s bad enough.” Bruce settled a light glare at his first son (that definitely wasn’t what Bruce was thinking), though Dick was stilled by the way your eyes narrowed at him instead.

“His name is Terrence,” that was all you said, brushing past as they were suddenly on guard at the inherited Wayne-scowl on your face.

-

A/N:  tbh I cut the last chapter in two, this is the second half ee;;;; but I rewrote it to be it’s own chapter tho haha. Hum… this doesn’t pick up exactly where the last chapter ended, but it’s still all here. c’: Also, if you wear glasses, just know grumpy ol’ Bruce would probably force contacts on you in public (he’d see them as more ‘professional,’ and glasses as a danger/hazard in the field). Glasses are for home only sighs.

Ngl I see lexcorp similar to westworld’s delos, lotsa fancy designs ee;;;; Cadmus like nasa test rooms, clinical as heck with little to no windows, and wayne ent with Alien franchise’s archaic but advanced spaceship tech, or dracula’s castle with cubicles lmao

-

             “Hey, Jaybird…”

Normally he knew what to expect, normally he’d open the door braced for a tackle, so when the rush of wind never came, he was at a bit of a loss. There you were, dressed like Bruce for some irritating reason. A size-too-big of a jacket, zipped up over a uselessly thin black turtleneck, a pair of black gloves, pants covering everything, and a pair of black lace-less… boots… with red… soles…?, and a suspiciously familiar-looking kid in your arms…

There was a slight guilty look on your face as you gauged his reaction, he could tell, you were nervous.

Wait.

He eyed the kid something scary, his voice grounding out, “so, who do I have to murder?”

“You weren’t gone that long, you know.” Snorting, you pushed past him into the small safe house, frowning at the bareness of it all before situating Terrence on the floor mattress. “How you sleep on this thing is beyond me…” he just shrugged, “too used to it? Answer the question,” he pointed at the kid while closing the door, “who?”

Agitated.

“Terrence,” said child was looking around, but there was only so much that would grab his attention, as empty as the room was.

“His name is Terrence, and he’s no one else’s, he’s… mine.”

“You just said it hasn’t been that damned long—” his frustration was building; he wasn’t liking where this was going, not that you were aware which direction his head was headed at the moment, you’d just gotten here.

You shook your head, “don’t tell me you…” his anger settled into a dark scowl, but you refused to look at him, “you can’t seriously bring more kids into that fucking prison.” He was so conflicted, it was you, but you were still a Wayne. It scared him to think of more children stuck in that lonely mansion, becoming bitter like he had.

You remembered what Dick had said days earlier when he first saw the child,

“Jason—” you began, a slight warning to your tone.

He didn’t care,

“Don’t be like Bruce.”

His voice was so cold.

Terrence had crawled his way over to the legs of the table in the makeshift kitchen, eyes on a prize as he began trying to figure out how a chair worked.

“You know, that actually hurt.”

You didn’t hate your father like Jason projected, but you knew the way he spoke about him, the way he expressed his feelings, that he ‘hated’ him. It was a half-truth, you knew. Jason preferred not hurting you, next to Alfred, you were more tolerable than the other family members. 

Somedays Tim and Dick made that list. Somedays. 

But that didn’t mean he was actively trying to be kind, he wanted it to stab.

Petty. Resentful. Haunted.

He went to say more, but stopped, fists shaking slightly from anger.

You were staring him down, that same look of disappointment Bruce would give him when he made an obviously stupid decision, as if he were still a Robin in training. Like your father, you could read him like an open book when you tried, it made him feel vulnerable, guilty, small.

Fucking frustrated.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he was at a loss for words, “…shit.” He turned away from you, coming back to the moment as he tried to reign in his temper, “it’s just…”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

Instead of continuing to argue the point, too used to his outbursts (Alfred and your family primed you too well for dealing with the unstable emotions of others), you walked over and wrapped your arms around him, head resting on his clothed chest, “missed you, Jay.”

Almost hesitantly, his arms returned the hug, his head burying itself in your hair, “sorry…” he breathed out, almost too quiet. He was tense as you pulled back a bit, reaching up to grab his face in your gloved hands as you leaned up on your toes, pulling his head down to yours. You touched your forehead to his, making certain to be gentle, “Honestly, it’s okay Jay. I forgive you, okay?”

“Cold,” his hands cupped your (oddly chilled) gloved ones, eyes searching your face before he shifted, head nodding slightly, rubbing yours. A heavy sigh escaped him, an awkward smile forming, “so, how’s my cutest little sister been?”

Glad that he was trying to get past his guilt, you shook your head, “a roller coaster. Dad’s upset at me.”

He just snorted in amusement, relaxing a little as you continued, “And how was California? The Titans? I miss Kory…” you blinked at his flat expression, “what? You were at the Tower, right? With Kory and Roy, and the others?”

Wow you ruined the moment fast.

“Aaaand that’s where you stop being cute. I swear this family is full of creepers. I think Dick’s the only normal one,” you tilted your head as he kept his hands firmly on your shoulders. “Honestly, you and Tim are terrifying, your brother is a demon, and I don’t even want to describe Bruce.”

“Glad you didn’t include yourself in that, zomboy,” he groaned, “that’s hurtful,” then he pouted, finally getting a good look at you.

Terrence was old enough to stand on his two legs as he held onto the chair, but he kept stumbling as he moved uncertainly. His eyes were focused on his mission as he started trying to climb further up.

Something clicked in the back of Jason’s brain, sudden realization dawning, “what…” you sighed, his hand moving from your shoulder, “is this…?” You refused to meet his stare as his fingers hooked on the zipper of your jacket, “uhm…” you flushed as he pulled it down, a bright red bat in his face.

There was a sudden sparkle in his eyes.

“Huh, didn’t expect you to be that much of a fan.” You were burning from head to toe now, refusing to look at him at all, rubbing the back of your neck with a thick swallow. “That… that’s kind of the problem…”

“What, that you’re walking around with my colors?” His grin seemed disappointed, but turned a bit more concerned at the frown you leveled at him, “it… let me explain… I think I need help…”

“Definitely gonna need explanations. A lot of them.” The kid was one thing, this outfit was another. He made to sit down, and you followed, leaving Terrence to his own devices for the moment. 

It’s not like there was much trouble to get into, everything of worth or danger was out of his reach.

“…yeah.”

“…”

“…”

“What is it?”

“…Why’d you think I slept with someone? When you first saw Terrence in my arms?”

He leaned away from you, chin resting on his palm, propped up on the arm of the couch with his elbow, “I’m your brother, and he looks like… it’s… I’m supposed to get upset about that… just… answer…” he did his best to keep a straight face, but eventually he had to turn away, looking at the wall, ears burning.

“Hm…?” you leaned towards him and he didn’t have to look at you to know you had a less than innocent smile on right now.

“Creep.”

You just laughed as you leaned into his side, causing him to crack a small smile, still not looking at you.

-

[“So… How to start this…”]

[“The suit, first, Terry after.”]

[“Terry?”]

[“The kid. Just explaaaaain already, uuugh I have patrol in a few hours…”]

[A heavy sigh, “Okay, then... So, you know how Lex helps fund the Society’s shenanigans?”]

[“…oh.”]

[“Yeah.”]

-

When it came to most places, breaking and entering was always easier at night, but for the LexCorp building? Nighttime came with problems, it came with heightened security, rigorous control, and the easy ability to spot something that was out of place. There was also your youngest brother who had filled you in on his adventures with Jon once, not a single detail of the LexCorp building having been left out; he was a thorough kid.

It was far easier to infiltrate during the day, the number of staff on the security team, the cliques of scientists and researchers, and the average workers meandering about made it easy to blend. You had donned a pair of (older prototype) smart glasses, normal from the viewer’s perspective, an integrative matrix mapping AI system from the wearer’s. Well, it could do more, but this was what you needed, the constant reconstruction of old building plans for more accuracy as you walked around.

Tim’d made some amazing things over the years, such as his matrix encryption to keep your work phone quiet, scrambling any noticeable connections that could be traceable. But this one was probably the coolest in your opinion, and he had yet to see the return of said glasses since you wouldn’t give them up, and he could never find where you’d put them. The glasses were a useful subtle change from the norm, a quick disguise, the security barely giving you a glance-over as you entered the passcode for the ID tag you wore, walking into the building.

With a slight wave from you, and a “Good Afternoon!” from them, getting in the backdoor was always the easy part. There were two more women next to you chatting in excitement and you made to stick close to them, parting only when you came upon the women’s locker rooms. The badge number Tim’d tracked down for you was useful until it wasn’t, Lex’s problem was needing levels three and above extensive background checks on anyone hired, and Tim knew exactly where to look.

-

[“Like I said, terrifying.”]

[“You do the same thing.”]

[“That’s a bit above my paygrade, usually I ask Tim for help when I need information from behind top-of-the-line security walls.”]

[“Oh.”]

[“Yeah.”]

-

Next was invasion of personal privacy and property, and a lot of it. You’d have felt worse if it weren’t for having been raised this way, “you’ll find out that people are just that, some sick and twisted, some happy and kind-hearted, but in the end, we’re all the same. Eventually, nothing will surprise you,” your father would say.

It didn’t take long, going through a few lockers and purses, letting your glasses do most of the work. They were able to see in a three-dimensional matrix, constantly being constructed behind most any material or metal. There were plenty of lab coats in varying sizes to choose from, and you spotted one badge and wondered who the dumdum was. You had plenty of electromagnetic strips for your ID if you needed a switch, but it seemed unnecessary. Some people left their everything when they clocked out, too.

You’d secured your purse around your stomach and under your shirt, the bulge flattened at your side, tying the ends in place. It would uncomfortably dig into you, but you couldn’t leave it behind and it would only be for a short time.

No one had paid you any mind, too busy rushing to get in and out of the locker rooms, and you made to escape with a group of women in the same coats as yourself. The group and yourself came to an elevator, and you let them do all the work. One of them scanning their ID for the group, the rest blurting out the number of the floor they needed to get to, and yourself joining in. A strange calm settling as you got more into the coworker attitude.

Seventh level Research and Development wing.

-

[“Not his office?”]

[“Why?”]

[“I dunno, there’s probably some terrible top-secret info in there.”]

[“I mean, I was on the main R&D floor, how much more top secret can you get?”]

[“Touché.”]

-

The entire R&D area was made up of floor to ceiling glass window dividers, a white and chromatic color scheme, and a lot of tightly sealed doors. You honestly didn’t even need the glasses to find the head researcher’s office, it was written in huge bold letters next to the dumb door on a plaque.

Weaving through a few people with their eyes busy reading clipboards and cellphones, you eyed each inch of the floor, and wondered if the other stock standard R&D floors at LexCorp were similar. No one paid you any mind as you stood in front of the group of office doors, all packed neatly in a little corner, and each leading to a different R&D office. They were mostly empty, only one occupied, most of the techbros and techgals were out and about doing work.

Again, the glasses did the decoding work for you, getting you the set of numbers you needed to enter the room. Unlike the rest of the lab, this office had less windows, though the few it did have were still large. Though they faced out rather than in, and it also wasn’t as large and as roomy as you’d have imagined. The Wayne R&D offices being waaay bigger in comparison.

Taking out two small flash drives, you shoved the sticks into the lone computer on the desk, booted it up, and just let them do their thing. Having the computer start with the flash drive, it acted as an executable program, letting it bypass any needed passcodes or security clearance for now.

One for unlocking the system, the other for information storage.

No doubt someone will notice that.

You wondered briefly if this was how the Cyborg felt, only ever having gotten to see him briefly before he utterly devastated an entire operating system. He then rebuilt it to his preferences, all in the matter of seconds. Tim had always lamented not getting to watch when you described it.

Notably, it was quite lovely how LexCorp’s researchers had everything organized in a folder subsystem so well. You were able to track down the needed information in less than a few minutes through the root directory.

Gotta be faster.

However, as you stared at the processing bar on your information download, there wasn’t a whole lot to do. Clicking the monitor’s sleep button to dim any light, you stood up and strode over to the door.

Being the lookout for a computer program was a new one.

-

[“Pfff.”]

[He snickered behind his palm as you smacked him on the shoulder.]

[“At least you got in without needing to hack anything yourself. Get dunked on, Dick, Damian.”]

[Light laughter echoed.]

-

Nothing had happened by the time the computer let out a small ding, indicating the download had finished. With both flash drives now pocketed, you turned to the next problem: getting out.

It really shouldn’t have been that hard, it was so stupidly easy to get in, thank you new temporary coworkers, but as you eyed the group of security detail by the elevator, you made a hard turn to the side.

Had you gone through the front doors instead of the employee entrance, you would have seen a ton of security. Through the back however, they really were only at certain check points, it’s not like just anyone could get in. So of course, there was no way they would have been able to get so far as the head office of any department.

How long had you been gone from the others? How long did you still have on Tim’s encryptions?

Oh heck.

The options were now trying to squeeze by the security, which was doubtful, they were checking everyone, or figure out a way to base jump without any gear. Neither option sounded appealing, you had no wings or grappling hooks with you, and it was still midday.

The corridor you turned into went from full on glass to a partition supporting windows, half and half, split horizontally to allow for more privacy, probably.

This was also exactly where you didn’t want to be.

Frick.

Most of the rooms looked like chemistry labs, charts everywhere, huge gravity convection and forced-air ovens, and thermo-freezers that looked like they belonged in meat markets. It was almost overwhelming at how cool some of these things looked as you searched for an exit. So filled with anxiety and adrenaline as you were, you almost missed it out of the corner of your eye. It was the red shimmering of a glass bowl on your face that made you notice it, the barely-there stream of sun that caught it just right.

You wasted no time getting to work, the door just as easy as the others, passcodes, they were all passcodes. Where were the fingerprint and retina scanners? Hell, where was the facial recognition scanners? You’d come prepared for so much, so you were incredibly confused at the lax security features. But again, this wasn’t the ground floor and security clearance was stricter this far in, your badge did most of the infiltration for you.

Was your dad that paranoid that now, so were you?

-

[“The civi world is full of sub-par idiots.”]

[“You sound like Dami.]

[“Gross.”]

[“…it’s uncanny, really, he said the same thing.”]

[“Shit.”]

-

The room looked similar to the others, less windows, more wall, plenty of graphs and charts, but there were a few different things as well. A few of which you pocketed; the only expensive looking laptop was also grabbed straight off a table to the side of your quarry.

The most notable thing however was glaring you boldly in the face, all black and a giant red bat on the chest.

A batsuit.

-

[“Yeah, I’m gonna want to know why baldy even had this thing.”]

[“Tim’s going through the drives right now, Dami dropped them off…”]

[“Damn.”]

-

Why did Lex have a batsuit? Where did he get it from, or did he help develop it? Terrence was part of all this, and what about your fa… the Batman? Why was Cadmus part of all this? Why was Lex? Were there more suits? More clo— children?

Shit shit shitshitshitshi—

To say you were freaking out a bit was an understatement.

Hearing heavy footsteps, you panicked and grabbed the garment from behind it’s glass case and took a dive behind the nearest desk. They hadn’t come in yet, they hadn’t gotten to this room, there was still time, but… still time to what?

You eyed the suit in your hands, it’s size horribly different from your own body type (but you could probably still fit it) and you decided to make a really dumb decision then and there.

You were gonna get caught regardless, might as well suit up and try to fight your way out. If you were lucky, you could get out of this without ruining your father’s reputation (or Batman’s identity.)

You began stripping behind the desk, fully intent on donning the batsuit. If nothing else, these things usually came with masks, even though you hadn’t seen a single one near it.

The moment you pulled the fabric over your legs, heels sliding effortlessly into the red soles, you watched almost in amazement as the fabric melted to your skin, reshaping to fit you. There was going to be a lot of bagginess in the suit when you wore it, a lot of tightness in weird places, too, and it had looked fitted to a larger male. So you hadn’t expected the suit to fit perfectly on purpose. It even had a built-in utility belt. Suddenly you were a bit giddy.

Again, what the hell was Lex Luthor doing?

“So freaking cool.”

The material felt almost like a second skin, there was also no sensory loss from wearing it, you could feel the floor as if you were barehanded.

You’d never thought about it before, but now you couldn’t take your mind off Dick and his skintight suit. You felt almost nude in this suit, not used to something showing everything off like it was.

Did Dick enjoy this?

Your ears burned brightly as you finished suiting up, no longer able to think about a large portion of superheroes and villains.

How could you ever face some of them again?

How could you ever look Dick in the eyes again?

“Oh no…”

Perverts. All of them.

-

[Loud laughter.]

[A very red face.]

-

You had to admit though, it was so much cooler than your heavier and bulkier recon gear. It didn’t weigh you down and the sensory adaptation was something you’d never come across before. Speaking of, reaching up, you took the glasses off to get a clear view of your surroundings and immediately regretted it.

The suit seemed to come to life on it’s own as something came out of nowhere, engulfing your head in complete darkness.

A silent scream, too terrified to let out any sound.

You about died then and there.

The suit wasn’t that cool anymore.

Without missing a beat and calming your fears of being bagged or worse, the darkness faded, and you could see your surroundings. Blinking for a moment to adjust, you tried to get your bearings on what the hell just happened, your hand gingerly coming up to feel your face.

[Booting...]

Were you hearing things or did the suit just...?

Unfortunately, that was the exact moment the door to the room you were in opened, and you panicked. It was a dead-end room, you weren’t as good at fighting as your brothers, and the security here could be scary when hunting down an intruder.

Stupid Lex.

Without thinking, you grabbed your things now bundled up in the labcoat like a bag, slung it over your shoulder, and bolted towards one of the windows looking out.

You were so used to recon jobs that you hadn’t taken into consideration that you had none of your gear (but your brothers did this kind of stupid thing constantly, so you’d be okay, right?).

You were too caught up in the moment.

You hadn’t heard the sound, mind too blank, but the glass falling around you was enough indication of just what you had done.

Base jumping it was.

You were in a batsuit, after all. 

Falling seven stories was terrifying, but definitely brought you back to reality. Securing the makeshift bag on your back, tied around your neck, you began thinking as fast as you could. Claws? The suit had them, you had noticed, but you were too far from the building, having jumped a distance, then... The suit had a built-in utility belt, right? Maybe there was something useful in one of the —

[Servo-Motors engage…]

[Checking system function…]

[Loading protocol…]

…huh?

[84 feet till impact.]

…wait—

[75 feet till impact.]

“Yeah I see that.”

[71 feet till impact.]

“Thanks.” Sarcasm, “What else can you tell me other than my unfortunate demise at the hands of gravity?”

[Thrusters not online.]

[68 feet till impact.]

[Grappling gun unavailable.]

[Batarang lines unavailable.]

[67 feet till impact.]

[Retractable wings availa—]

“Yes, that one, wings, please! Wait… thrusters?” you had little time as your whole body suddenly started tumbling, a set of red wings expanding between your arms and the sides of your torso. “Shitshitsh—” and then you were gliding, your arms having spread on their own from the force of the fall. “Oh… Oh my…”

The suit was cool again, “Dang this is… nice… Like a bird or… him.” You reeeaaallllly didn’t want to chance him hearing you say his name.

You wanted to try this higher up now, in a sea of clouds… It was like floating, an almost weightless feeling taking over. The wind currents were a bit to get used to, but it wasn’t terrible, having imagined it would be worse higher up, in them dang fluffy clouds... sigh.

[23 feet till landing.]

The suit helped guide you to an area with less people, something akin to your own Gotham alleyways (to a point, Metropolis’ worst streets were like Gotham’s safest ones). The small alley that led to several businesses’ back doors was rather clean, and there weren’t many places to hide. The best you could do was a growing shadow next to an empty dumpster.

“Alright then…” you sighed aloud, hands doing their best to find any seam in the suit, and after a few minutes, your—

[Heart rate at 142bpm.]

[Heart rate rising.]

[Blood pressure at—]

“—No kidding,” you thought, mind racing, and unfortunately, there wasn’t a single seam on the suit.

Anxiety was building in your chest,

“Frick.”

-

[“Wait, the suit talks?”]

[“I think it has an OS on it? I haven’t tried the cowl since…”]

[“You should.”]

[“…Nnnn”]

-

“Why do you look like Nightwing?” All you did was take the clothes from Damian and began to dress yourself over the suit, not certain at all on what you could say to this situation. You’d called Damian the moment you lucked out and made the cowl… come off?, and in his eagerness to leave Jon behind, he showed up quickly.

“You will tell me,” he was sounding just like dad.

“Dami, I uhm…”

“…I won’t tell father.” he could deduce a few things this pertained to, including but not limited to the child you had brought home, and how you avoided Bruce.

You could only sigh and nod at him, resigned. You really hope this didn’t come back to bite you in the bottom.

“What are you two doing?”

The clothes you had couldn’t cover most of the suit, the clothes Damian had brought you were able to do just that. Strangely, you weren’t feeling overheated, even though you looked like you were ready for cold weather.

“Ah, Jon.”

“You look silly.”

“…thanks.”

[“…”]

[”...”]

-

“Nightwing? Screw that brat.”

“Please don’t speak like that…” you sighed, your head in your hands.

He just huffed in annoyance, “I wear the colors better,” he muttered, “it sounds like a lot, what's your next plan of action?”

You let yourself slump forwards as he pulled you into a side-hug, arm slung over your shoulders, “it’s this suit. I can’t get it off, and—"

BAM

You and Jason about had twin heart attacks.

Without missing another fraction of a second, the larger male was on his feet, flipping over the back of the couch ready to attack before he swore at the sight in front of him. Striding over to the table in two long steps, “What the hell, Terry.” He haphazardly picked the kid up, a red helmet falling on the table with a clang, and turned to you, “your kid just tried to kill us, you realize.”

Having slid to the ground out of need to instantly roll to the side, you stopped, staring at the smoking gun that’d been pushed off the table, lying on the floor near you. Your eyes then shifting to the hole in the safehouse’s wall, “Uhm… The safety…”

He just snorted, “I don’t always have it on.” He wasn’t great at taking care of himself, sadly. You did your best with your busy schedule and budgeted time constraints, but when he wasn’t here, he easily fell into old habits.

“Please don’t let the demon spawn near him.”

“Please keep the damned safety on your guns.”

-

Batman was straining so hard that it looked like he was in the middle of a fight, an obvious aura of unrest around him.

“Whoa, you gonna punch yourself in the face? Wait, wait a minute, I gotta…” Batman groaned, irritated as a red blur came into the room, jabbered on too quickly, then took his phone out and pointed it at the big bat.

“Okay, I’m recording now, do it!”

It took a moment as Batman thought, rubbing his temples.

“I trained my kids too well,” at that, Flash put his phone down, tilting his head in confusion, “and that’s… bad?” He looked up at the League’s computers in front of him, noting the blinking [[ALERT ALERT ALERT]] off to the side.

“Because,” Batman reasoned, “I have to deal with them,” he ground out, glaring at the sign of intrusion.

“Ooooh, your kids hacked into the system again, huh?” Flash let out a low whistle, clearly amused by Batman’s misfortunes. Batman did his best to ignore the red nerd, calling on Cyborg to assist him, even though he had already been on his way, noticing it moments prior.

“Family, amirite?”

Batman said nothing in response,

Tim almost got away with it.

Almost.