#like yeah I’ve talked about Nine’s scars before

[the-last-quest]

The sillies‼️‼️

[sadslay]

- NEED YOU ⋆☆ 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings - inspired by, mentions of scars & blood, nsfw content, this is short im so sorry

the first time you saw abby was when her and her people came to the seattle claiming to be fireflies. you had only heard whispers about the group, but no more then a week later abby was sitting in your waiting room with a bloodied face and fists. when you called her in she sat down quietly with her hands gripping onto the bed. the first thing abbys eyes stared at was the scar sitting in the base of your neck.

“abigail right?” you asked, beginning to gather what supplies you needed to clean her cuts.

“just abby.” she corrected, watching you closely as you spun back around with some clean water and a rag.

you knew exactly what brought abby here. an hour or so earlier there was an altercation with one of the young soldiers and it resulted in them getting up on medical leave while abby only came out with a few cuts and some bloodied knuckles. although you didn’t know the exact reason as to why abby lashed out, you were able to put together the pieces. from what you had read on her file and what you had heard around the base, abby was a fifteen year old ex-firefly that had recently just lost her father. you knew what headspace abby was in right now and it was not something that could be ignored.

“how long have you been at the base for?” you asked, fully knowing she had been here for nine days.

abby sat in silence as you cleaned the sticky drying blood from her left eyebrow before quietly replying, “just over a week.”

once you had cleaned the blood you were able to see the small cut running through the end of her eyebrow. lucky for her, it didn’t need stitches only a bit of medical tape to prevent infection. the silence between you and abby was heavy but surprisingly not awkward.

as you taped up her eyebrow, she asked, “i don’t need stitches?”

you shook your hear as you grabbed a near by cloth to begin cleaning the cut on top of her cheek. “no.” you spoke softly. “but your cheek’ll need stitches.

the rest of her visit she didn’t talk. you told her that the stitches were not dissolvable so she would have to come in a weeks time to get them removed and at the end of it all, she quietly thanks you and left swiftly.

⋆☆

carefully removing her stitches with a pair of tweezers and surgical pliers, you put all your focus into making the whole process as pain free as possible. you had noticed abby fiddling with her hands, most likely to keep herself distracted, and you could feel her eyes lingering on the base of your neck. no doubt she was intrigued by your scar, just about everyone was, but abby was different. abby hadn't once asked about your scar or looked at it in a disgruntled or disgusted way, in fact she rarely looked at it, but when abby did, she looked at it with intrigue.

"did you pick a job yet?" you asked quietly, managing to pull her eyes away from your neck.

"no." she replied quietly. "the job i wanted was taken." she added, the disappointment in her voice was so clearly evident.

you removed the last stitch, allowing abby to take in a deep breath as you put your tools down on a near by table. "n'what job was that?" you questioned.

“anythin’ in medical.” she shrugged as you began to clean your station. you let out a soft chuckle as you peeled off your rubber gloves making abbys eyebrows furrow. “whats so funny?”

you weakly shrugged as you turned back to abby, subtly assessing her face to see if she needed a cover while it continued to heal. “just didn’t expect that from you.” you mumbled, beginning to gather a small amount of medical tape to cover the cut on her cheek. “thought you’d wanna be a solider.”

abby scoffed. “just cause i’ve gotten into a few fights?” she asked as a smirk began to ghost over her lips.

gently applying the medical tape to her - mostly - healed cut you tried your hardest not to smile. “well yeah, ‘nd from the looks of it you can throw a good punch.” abby grinned, clearly proud of herself. “i treated her ya know?”

“you put her medical leave?” abby asked, raising an eyebrow as she watched you closely while you began to pack up your station.

“god no.” you chuffed. “i’ve sent worse injuries back into the field, it was issac that put her on medical leave.” you explained, beginning to take off your green medical apron and hanging it on the back of your office door. “it’s ‘cause he realized that if she couldn’t handle a civilian then she shouldn’t be a solider.”

abby thought for a moment, eyeing you up and down as this was the first time she had seen you out of uniform. “he’s got a point.” she mumbled nonchalantly as she remained completely focused on you.

“i could put in a good word for you ya know?” you mumbled, leaving up against your desk. “he owes me a favour.” you added as a soft smirk began to creep onto your lips.

“you think i’d be a good solider?” abby asked, pushing herself away from the medical bed to stand opposite to you.

you nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “i think if you got into gym and really trained you’d be one of our best.” you admitted. “then you get some good benefits around the base.” you added. abby folded her arms across her chest and thought for a moment. “maybe you can tag along with me one time.” you shyly suggested.

“i like the sound of that.”

⋆☆

as seasons passed you and abby grew incredibly close. first it started as weekly catch ups at the gym and the odd visit to your office after hours as she’d refuse to have her medical done by anyone else, and then it became more frequent. abby would stop by your office before she would get sent out to do a run for issac and any chance she got she would invite you to lunch in the food hall or even drop off lunch right to your office.

with all of abby’s attention you quickly become infatuated. abby had a way of making the simplest things give you butterflies. you quickly realized that your feelings towards abby were not just platonic and after years of fighting you had come to terms with the fact that you had fallen in love with her. so when she asked you to travel halfway across the country - on a limb that the man that you had only heard stories about- to hunt down the man had killed her father you had to go with her.

while the group had stopped in butte for a few days, you found yourself scavenging around the rundown motel when you overheard abby talking to owen. you stopped in your tracks, quietly listening as the pair hadn’t spoken in months.

“‘cause she’s fuckin’ useless.” owen muttered in a hushed whisper.

you heard abby let out a sigh causing your eyebrows to furrow. “we needed her hear incase we got into trouble. she’s a good nurse.”

were they talking about you?

“what about mel?” owen asked. “just cause you wanna fuck her-”

“watch it!” abby snapped. “i brought her along because your fucking girlfriend can barely do her fucking job.” abby quipped her voice was stern as she grew more frustrated at own. “i bought her along because shes fucking useful, no other fuckin’ reason.” she spat.

after that owen stormed off, walking out into the hall were you stood opposite to each other. he gave you a pathetic smile before walking straight past you. slowly you began to fill with frustration as you march towards the door own had just walked out of.

“you know if you wanted a fucking medic to come on this fucking scouting mission then i would have sent one of my students with you.” you snapped bitterly as you slammed the door behind you.

abby frowned as she realized you had heard her conversation with owen. “come on,” abby groaned. “you know i didn’t mean it like that.” she mumbled, looking down at you as she inched closer to you.

you rolled your eyes at the blonde, coming to your wits end with her as she had been distant from you for weeks. “how’d you mean it then?” you quipped.

“it means i like you dumbass.” she smirked, taking that final step to bring the two of you together.

scoffing at the idea you tried to step back, “if you like me so much, how come you’ve been avoiding me?” you asked, bumping into the door behind you.

abby smiled at your naivety as her arm rose, boxing you in against the wall. “because i can’t control myself around you anymore.” she spoke barely above a whisper.

chocking on your words only made abby’s smile grow. “shhh,” she coed. “i know you like me too baby.” abby hummed, her nonchalant cockiness about the whole situation made your cheeks flush pink.

“do not.” you tried to protest, even you could hear the bullshit making abby chuckle under her breath. “fuck off.” you spat, barely louder then a whisper.

“you really want me to go?” abby asked, her head dipping slightly to be at your eye level, only for you to avoid her eye contact all together. her hand parted from the wall before shortly reconnecting her hand with the the bottom of your chin. “look at me.”

only abby could make a demand sound so soft you thought. you hesitated for a moment, knowing what would happen if you did look at her, but you were weak at the knees and desperate for any attention from abby. your eyes finally met abby’s turning your stomach into knots.

“you really want me to leave baby?” she asked again, her breath kissing your ear.

looking up at her, you began to feel light headed as something you had dreamed about for months, maybe even years was finally beginning to come true.

“please don’t make me say it.” you shamefully whispered, as abby slowly combed a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“oh baby.” she snickered, her soft seductive chuckle gave you goosebumps. “but i want to hear you say it.” abby smirked.

there was no point in fighting it anymore, abby knew you liked her, there was no more denying it. “i want you to stay.” you spoke ever so softly. abby grinned as you took in a shallow breath before continuing to whisper, “i want you.”

that was all the confirmation that abby needed, to hastily press her lips against yours. it was so messy and polarizing to anything you had ever experienced before. abby’s hands grabbed firmly onto your hips as she pulled you against her, her touch alone was enough to make your knees buckle. your hand grasped onto the base of abbys neck as you almost felt light headed. the whole experience was so euphoric but ethereal at the same time.

“so needy baby.” abby breathed into your neck almost making you audibly moan.

desperate for some friction, you pulled yourself even closer to abby. “shut up.” you breathed, barely able to have a coherent thought as you began to rub against her thigh.

abby let out a breathy chuckle as her hands dipped down to your thighs before hoisting you up to sit around her waist. her hands held onto your ass firmly, relentlessly squeezing as she slowly lowered herself to the ground. as she sat down with her back pressed up against the door your legs knelt on either side of hers.

her hands roamed up and under your thin singlet, scratching at your skin before her hands returned to your ass. you rolled your hips against hers making your core tighten as your hand snaked up her arms to her neck. you slowly pulled away, leaning in close to abbys ear as she continued kissing the soft spot of your neck. your breathing was heavy and everything that abby was going made you feel so, so good.

as you leant up against abbys ear, your finger tips scratching the back of her neck you whispered, “i need you.”

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Fourteen

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : R - very smutty (it gets messy)

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This chapter contains very vague mentions of Billy's assault by Arthur other than that, it just gets dirty. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~5.1k

A/N : This is set over a period of three weeks and I wrote a lot of it over the holidays while drinking wine which is the excuse I'm using for the smut being extra smutty. Also it's Billy's birthday! I know I say this every time, but thanks for reading!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Chapter Fourteen

You woke pressed back against Billy, his arms holding you tight against his chest. He’d been so exhausted the night before that you didn’t want to wake him, but you needed to get ready for work and you were sure he’d be needed at Anvil. Turning in his arms, you placed a hand on his cheek, lightly caressing his face with your thumb until he started to stir. The moment his eyes opened and he realised where he was, his lips pulled into a gentle smile.

“Hey,” he muttered, voice guff and sleepy.

“How did you sleep?” Thumb still tenderly brushing his cheek.

“Better than I have in years,” he answered, but still looked like he needed a few more hours. “What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty; I’ve gotta get up for work,” you yawned. “D’you want waffles?”

Billy didn’t answer. Instead his arms tightened around you, keeping you against him, his eyes shutting. “Five more minutes.”

There was something unbelievably soft about him in that moment, something cute, and you couldn’t deny him. It was strange to think that this was only the third time you’d woken up beside him because, already, you were certain you didn’t want to go back to waking up without him. With a soft sigh, you snuggled closer and closed your eyes, indulging him for  five more minutes.

As promised, you made waffles and a pot of coffee, and enjoyed a little more time with him before you had to leave for work. You didn’t make plans to see him again, but Billy barely managed to make it to midday before texting to ask if he could stay over again that night, bribing you with promises of takeout. And, of course, you said yes. 

It quickly became a regular thing; Billy coming round after work, eating together (sometimes take out, sometimes you’d cook), then you’d sit in front of the TV, enjoying each other's company before curling up in bed together.

You shared so many sweet moments and got to know each other - Billy even tried to explain baseball to you. (You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you still didn’t understand at the end, but you loved listening to him talk.)

“Did you ever play?” You asked, trying to picture a younger Billy in a baseball uniform, all cute rosy cheeks and devious smiles.

“Kinda - we used to play stickball since no one had a real bat,” he explained, “got to play at school though.”

“Yeah? Were you any good?”

“I used to think maybe I’d get a scholarship and go on to play in the majors,” he grinned, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and there was a sadness in his words you didn’t understand.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I, uh - I got hurt.”

“You shoulder?” You guessed, thinking back on all the times you’d seen him twitch and shift, remembering the scar you’d never asked about. Billy winced at your realisation.

“Yeah,” he let out a sigh, “when I was about ten, maybe eleven, there was this guy who used to volunteer at the group home; used to play stickball and hoops with us, we all thought he was so cool...”

He fell silent for a second or two, but it seemed to last a lifetime. Dread coiled in your stomach and, even though you had no idea what he was going to say, you were preparing yourself for the worst.

“When he called me pretty I knew something was wrong. I wasn’t interested in the games he wanted to play,” his gaze drifted away from you, “I swung at him with the stickball bat - got him pretty good a couple of times too. Prick paid me back by breaking my arm and tearing my rotator cuff...”

Before he’d even finished, your arms were around him, holding him tight. Your heart felt like it was shattering but in all that sadness, there was something else; rage. You wanted to hurt the piece of shit who’d dared lay a hand on Billy. You wanted to kill him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead and holding you just as tight. “I’m fine now.”

You didn’t say anything else about it - you didn’t know what you could say. So, instead, you just spent the rest of the night holding him tight, sad but happy that he’d trusted you enough to tell you.

As the days ticked by, you had more little moments with Billy, slowly getting to know each other, both revealing things you might have otherwise kept to yourself.

While watching a movie together, he noticed your gaze dropping uncomfortably as the lead character started to shed her clothes and your fingers started to pull at your sleeve. He didn’t say anything at first but, a couple of hours later you found his fingers around your wrist, his finger tracing the edge of your sleeve. When you looked up, you found an uncertain look on his face.

“What?” You asked, not sure you wanted an answer.

“I just -” he let out a slow exhale, thinking before continuing, “- I want you to know you never have to hide your scars from me. I know you don’t like people seeing them, but I want you to know that there isn’t a single part of you that I don’t think is perfect.”

“I don’t feel perfect,” but you weren’t prepared to have that conversation just yet, “but, thank you, Billy.”

“Scars don’t make you who you are, sweetheart.” He answered softly, kissing your cheek with a softness you didn’t know he was capable of.

It started to feel like you were getting an intensive crash course in all things Billy Russo and by the end of the second week, you were practically living together; he stayed every night, save the nights Tammy returned to the apartment. He took to taking things slowly better than you thought he would, but there were still some awkward mornings.

About a week in, you woke to find that his hand had slipped into your pyjama bottoms in his sleep, his fingers between your folds, coated in your arousal. His hard cock pressed against your ass. Half-asleep, you squirmed, trying to pull away, only to make the situation worse. His hold on you tightened, hips starting to grind against you from behind. You almost gave in as his fingers started to move.

“Billy,” you grumbled, pulling his hand from between your thighs, leaving you achingly unfulfilled.

He stirred behind you and quickly rolled away, muttering an apology as he left your room, no doubt heading for the bathroom. You tried to call after, to tell him it was okay, but he was gone before you could get the words out.

Fifteen minutes passed before he returned and, rather than getting back into bed, he sat on the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands. You gave him a moment before moving, kneeling behind him and wrapping your arms around him, not wanting him to feel bad about it. 

“Come back to bed,” you muttered, pressing your lips to his bad shoulder, and pulling him until he finally relented.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed as you settled beside him again, resting your head on his chest so you could listen to the beating of his heart.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I was dreaming about you,” he confessed, causing your heart to stutter in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you offered a moment later, “I know taking things slowly can’t be easy for you.”

“It’s not,” your stomach dropped, “but it’s worth it. You’re worth it.” 

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and held you tight, the both of you soon falling asleep again. It happened a few more times over the following days; you’d catch him sneaking out to the bathroom, boxers uncomfortably tented. And, every time it happened, you found yourself reaching for your vibrator the moment that he’d left for the day, your own frustrations slowly getting the better of you.

But it felt like you were getting somewhere, like the thing between you was becoming something real, something that meant something. 

Everything came to a head around Billy’s birthday - which, you hadn’t even realised was his birthday at the time. One day, around the three week mark, he turned up earlier than usual.

“Frank sent me home,” he explained, sounding annoyed as he kicked off his boots and hung up his coat.

“How come?” 

“He’s got this stupid thing about people working on their birthdays,” he sighed, taking himself to the sofa and sitting down while you stood speechless, staring at him in confusion.

“It’s your birthday?” You were mortified - you hadn’t known, you hadn’t prepared. You hadn’t even gotten him so much as a card. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t really celebrate my birthday,” he shrugged, “don’t worry about it.”

It made sense, you supposed, growing up the way he had, birthdays probably hadn’t been a big deal for him like they had been for you. But that didn’t mean that it shouldn’t be a big deal now, that you shouldn’t at least try to do something for him.

You came up with a plan, something silly and small, something you hoped Billy would appreciate. But, in true Tammy fashion, she had to throw a spanner in the works, deciding that she needed the apartment the following night so she could catch up with her friends, meaning she would be inviting people like Michelle around to get drunk. 

Reluctantly, you asked Billy if you could stay at the penthouse. It was the first time you’d been back since the day you’d walked out on him and, despite all the time you’d spent with him since then, it scared you, you felt like you had less control in his space instead of your own. But it was the only option if you wanted to do something for his birthday.

Billy arranged for the doorman, Marvin, to let you into the penthouse before he got home, giving you time to set up your surprise. It was silly, really, just some balloons and a birthday cake to eat after the dinner you were going to cook for him. After setting up - getting all the food in the oven, putting some candles on the table, and tying the balloons to the backs of the chairs - you changed into a dark red dress and put up your hair, pulling it out of your face.

Then came the awkward waiting as the minutes ticked by, flitting between excitement and worry with every passing minute. What if he didn’t like it?

By the time the elevator opened, the whole penthouse smelled like roasted meat and vegetables, and Billy looked - well, he looked tired. And confused.

“What’s going on?” He asked as you moved to meet him, smoothing out your dress before helping him out of his coat.  The confusion on his face deepened when he noticed the balloons.

“I know you said you don’t really celebrate your birthday,” your voice broke and your gaze dropped, anxiety clawing beneath your ribs, “it just - it didn’t seem right not to do anything, and I thought -”

“You did all this for me?”

You looked up to find the sweetest, softest smile on his lips, the sort of smile that was so rare your chest ached at the sight.

“It’s just some food and balloons,” you shrugged.

“It’s perfect,” the smile stayed firmly on his lips as he cleared the distance between you, wrapping you in his arms and kissing you.

Melting against him you completely surrendered to the kiss, to Billy. It had been so long since he’d kissed you like that, with a barely contained want that set your heart racing. You felt his fingers tangle in the fabric of your dress and, when he finally pulled back, you caught that familiar look in his eyes; he was barely holding himself back.

His dark gaze held yours, flickering and sparking with desire as you bit your lip, knowing you should pull away. But you didn’t want to. He wet his lips before leaning slowly, lips so close to yours when -

You almost jumped out of your skin as the alarm on your phone started to sound.

Billy snapped back to the moment too, letting go of your dress and taking an awkward half-step back. But, for a second longer, you held his gaze, heart still pounding, longing for what could have been.

“I should -” you started, awkwardly clearing your throat, shaking your head, “- dinner is almost ready.”

“Right,” he answered, staying exactly where he was, his hand twitching at his side, desperate to reach for you again, “I’ll go get cleaned up.”

“Right,” you forced a breath, lingering a moment more before turning and heading back to the kitchen.

Over dinner you made small talk, asking about his day, listening as he vaguely explained some of the on-going issues with Anvil. Apparently the security issue was still driving Frank crazy and, in turn, he had been stressing Billy out over it.

Once you were done eating (and after you’d sung happy birthday to Billy and made him blow out the candles on his cake) you ended up on the sofa, pressed against Billy’s side with his arm wrapped around you, watching a movie that you quickly lost interest in. After an hour or so, you lifted your head to look at him, finding him staring at you.

“What?” you asked quietly, nervously. 

“You’re amazing,” he muttered softly, pressing his lips to your forehead in such a tender way that it made your heart skip a beat. “Thank you, for all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you answered, pressing closer, lifting your head, “you deserve it.” 

Without warning, you kissed him, knowing that there was only so much your words could say. You were gentle at first, Billy let you set the pace, let you press closer and closer, let your tongue softly brush against his own while you climbed onto his lap. He let you make all of the first moves, only speeding up when you did, waiting until you put your hands on him before he finally touched you.

One hand tangled in your hair, ruining the updo, while the other found your bare thigh beneath your dress, his touch sparking your arousal and causing a familiar heat between your thighs. You lost yourself to the moment, to him, knowing that this time there was no alarm waiting to disturb you. Your hips began to move, slowly at first but soon turning desperate, soft moans spilling from your lips once you felt the press of his erection against you.

“Billy -” you gasped against his lips, pleading for more, for all the things you couldn’t put into words.

“Are you sure?” He’d only ask once, and once you said yes there would be no going back to the calm safety of the last three weeks. He gave your hair a gentle tug, forcing you to look at him, letting him see the lust and want in your eyes when you finally answered.

“I need you,” you begged, still grinding against the hard outline of his cock, “please.”

He didn’t answer - he didn’t have to. He just kissed you fiercely, possessively, while the hand on your thigh moved upwards.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re soaked,” he all but growled against your lips as his fingers started to touch you through wet lace. You keened, desperate and eager for his touch. “What got you so wet?”

“You, Billy.”

He grinned, rewarding you by slipping his fingers into your panties, running his thick digits through your arousal, coating them in it before, finally, sinking two into you. You cried out, your fingers gripping his shoulders as he started to fuck you with them, reminding you just what you’d been missing out on. And, once he started to work his thumb over your clit, you were a goner.

You’d have been embarrassed about coming so fast if it wasn’t for his shit-eating grin and the fact you needed to get him out of his clothes. But the moment you started to pull at his shirt, he took hold of your wrists, restraining you while he kissed you. 

“Not here, I need you in my bed,” he told you in a low, breathless voice, sounding barely in control of himself.

You lost yourself in the blur that followed; Billy carrying you to the bedroom, pulling off each other’s clothes, and eventually finding yourself thrown back onto his bed, your legs open as he knelt between them. Your gaze dropped to his cock standing thick and hard; it was enough to make your mouth water.

“Not yet,” he told you, reading your mind. Lifting your leg, he started to trail kisses down your thigh, causing you to squirm in anticipation, hips lifting as he sank down. “So fucking wet and needy.”

The only answer you gave was a moan when you felt his tongue start to run through your arousal in long, slow strokes. He lapped at your dripping slit, groaning against you, reacquainting himself with your pussy before turning his attention to your clit. Your whole body shook, fingers threading through his hair and holding him close as he started to devour you. You came against his lips, crying his name and begging him for more.

Trembling, you knew Billy was only just getting started; you’d already come twice but you were longing to know what came next.

He moved up your body, lips and fingers reacquainting himself with every inch of you, until his hips were slotted between your thighs and you felt the familiar nudge of his cock at your entrance. But, instead of filling you, Billy paused.

His hesitation was palpable as he took a slow breath and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed tight.

“I don’t think I can be gentle,” he admitted, and your breath caught. 

“Then don’t be,” you whispered, “fuck me, Billy. You won’t break me.” reaching down, you took his cock in hand and started to tease the tip through your wet folds. “I want you to fuck me.”

His fingers gripped your hip and, finally, his cock slowly began to slip inside you. After  weeks of just your vibrator, having Billy inside you again was overwhelming, his impressive size stretching you like it was the first time all over again, and the two orgasms you’d already had left you feeling overstimulated. Squirming beneath him, you drew your thighs to his hips, desperate to take every inch of him. Once he bottomed out, he stilled breathing heavily.

When he didn’t move, you let out a whine and started to rock your hips, so close to coming now he was inside you again.

“Stop,” he gasped, “you’re gonna make me come too quick.”

It broke you to know he was barely holding on, that you could have that effect on him. You bit your lips as you stared up at the beautiful man on top of you, fingers running through his hair before you coaxed him down and into a slow kiss, giving him the time he needed.

When he finally started to move, he took things slowly, giving you both something you hadn’t even realised you needed. You felt every inch, every throb and twitch, you felt just how deep inside you he could reach. Everything was Billy and nothing else existed.

Each slow but purposeful thrust of his cock filled you in a way no one else ever had or would. And, when he lifted himself to kneel between your legs, changing the angle so you could feel the ridge of his shaft rubbing that special spot inside you, you couldn’t hold back.

“Fuck, Billy, I’m so close,” you gasped.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he told you in a barely contained voice, not asking but telling.

And you did, crying out as your body submitted to him without hesitation, back arching off the bed. The look on his face turned possessive, dominant, and that should have scared you - it should have scared you how easily you’d done what he wanted, how easily you’d given yourself to him. But it didn’t. It felt so good to not overthink, to just let him take control and bring you pleasure. You kept moaning his name, writhing beneath him as he continued to lay claim to you.

“I love how wet you get after coming, just listen,” he all but growled, hips finally picking up the pace. At any other time you would have been mortified by the sounds your body was making as he drove his cock into you but, now, you only wanted more. “Only thing that sounds better is the way you moan when I come inside you.”

You’d missed his filthy mouth, missed the way it made you feel to hear all his dirtiest thoughts while he fucked you.

“I haven’t come since the last time I was inside you,” he confessed in a breathless grunt, still pounding his cock into you in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head. He’d waited four weeks for this, for you. (So he hadn’t been jerking off all those mornings, he’d been waiting it out.)

“Please, Billy -” you begged mindlessly, pleading with him, every fibre of your being needing, wanting. 

“You want me to come, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” His cock hitting just the right spot, causing your legs to tremble and your back to arch.

“You want me to fill your needy little pussy with cum?” He grit out, obviously getting close to breaking point.

“Please -” you continued to beg with a desperation that surprised both of you, walls clenching around him, trying to fight off your own end.

“Say it.” He demanded in a sudden, dominant tone that sent a thrill through your whole body and left you unable and unwilling to deny him. 

“Fill me with cum, Billy” you cried out without hesitation, “please - please -”

You kept begging desperately beneath him until you felt his cock twitch inside you. You cried out as you shattered, your inner walls violently convulsing around him as he continued to fuck you, spilling himself in the deepest parts of you.

Another cry tore from your lips as he hit that sensitive spot inside of you. Overwhelmed and overstimulated, you felt a sudden gush of wetness between your thighs, causing your whole body to quake. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, yes,” Billy groaned, pulling at your leg so he could hit that same spot over and over again, still pounding into your as he emptied himself, his fingers frantically rubbing your clit. You felt another gush before your vision started to blur. It felt like it was never going to end, like he was going to keep you in your moment of pleasure forever. His name was the only word you could form and, when he looked at you, you both knew the truth; you were his in every way.

By the time he was done, you were a trembling, panting mess beneath him. He stayed inside you, the last of his orgasm petering away to nothing, while you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Staring down at you, he groaned at the fucked-out expression on your face.

“You did so good,” he muttered softly, leaning to press his lips to your forehead, his hand tenderly cupping your cheek. “I always wondered what it’d take to fuck your brains out.”

At any other time you would have made a joke, told him that your brains were still exactly where they were meant to be, but you were too exhausted, your body still trembling. All you could do was let out a soft whine and that did something to Billy.

“It’s ok, I’ve got you,” he murmured tenderly, thumb softly caressing your cheek.

Kissing you softly, his tongue swept along the seam of your lips until you opened for him, giving him what he wanted, knowing there was nothing you’d deny him in that moment (or, perhaps, ever again). You moaned into his mouth, letting him kiss you as he softened inside you.

“I’m gonna pull out now, sweetheart,” he told you softly, despite the grin on his lips, “it might be messy, you made me come so hard.”

Another moan stole from your lips, your eyes closing tight as he slipped from your body, trying not to think about the wet mess he’d left between your thighs. When you dared to look, he was standing at the foot of the bed, staring down at you. Despite your embarrassment, you didn’t have the strength to close your legs.

“You look so perfect like this,” he muttered, softly placing a hand on your still-trembling thigh. A spark of thrill ran through you, loving the way he was looking at you, like you were the most perfect thing in the world to him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna take such good care of you. You just stay right there.”

Your eyes closed as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water soon following. He soon returned to the bedroom to scoop you off the bed, holding you tight as he carried you into the bathroom and climbed into the tub with you, sitting behind you as he lowered you into the running water.

“Tell me if it gets too hot,” he whispered softly, pulling your hair away from your neck so he could kiss along your shoulder.

Snuggling against him, you felt yourself drifting off as the hot, bubbly water continued to rise around you. His arms wrapped around you possessively, and you’d never been happier than you were in that moment.

“Thank you, Billy,” you murmured, half-asleep.

“What for?”

“For waiting for me.”

He let out a gentle sigh. “You don’t have to thank me for that, sweetheart. You’re worth every second,” pressing his lips to your neck as he spoke. “Anyway, I should be thanking you; this was the best birthday party I’ve ever had.”

You smiled softly, quickly drifting off, not rousing again until you felt Billy gently washing you, soaping your arms and shoulders.

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you did.” You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling. “You must’ve exhausted yourself; you put on quite a show.”

“I’ve never -” you didn’t even have the words for whatever that in bed had been, but you felt your cheeks start to warm with embarrassment, “- I mean, not like that...”

“Did you like it?” He asked, hands running over the scars on your arms, washing away the bubbles.

Giving a soft hum, you thought about it for a second. “It was intense - everything always feels more intense with you.” Then, awkwardly, after a moment's pause, you dared to ask; “did you like it - me doing... that.”

You weren’t used to candid conversations about sex, not like Billy - before him you’d always been told what you wanted, what you enjoyed, and how you were supposed to feel about it. But, with Billy, he always listened, he always gave you what you wanted, what you liked.

“I like everything you do in bed, sweetheart,” he answered, still sounding like he was smiling, like he was happy. “But, yeah, I really liked it. I’d love to do that to you again.”

Your breath caught just at the thought, allowing yourself to think about how different everything suddenly felt now that you’d taken the time to get to know each other. It meant something now - what, you weren’t sure, but as your head shifted on his chest and you heard his racing heart, you were certain Billy felt it too.

When the water started to cool, Billy pulled the plug before gently lifting you out of the tub and sitting you on the edge. He wrapped a towel around himself before starting to dry you. Every touch was  meticulous but gentle and, for reasons you didn’t entirely understand, you found yourself blinking back tears.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He asked, finally noticing when you tried to wipe your eyes with your hand.

“No one’s ever looked after me like you do,” you sniffled, not sure why you were suddenly overcome with emotion.

He wiped your tears away with the towel before pulling his robe from the back of the door and wrapping you up in it. His arms wrapped around you and he held you tight while you fought back the urge to cry. After everything you’d been through with him, it was impossible not to feel vulnerable.

“I’ll always look after you,” he promised as he lifted you up, “nothing’s ever gonna change that.”

Billy quickly whisked you back into the bedroom and sat you down in the armchair by the window while he stripped the messy bedding and replaced it with fresh linen. Then, before you knew it, you were deposited back in his bed while Billy dimmed the lights and turned on the TV before snuggling up with you.

You watched TV and dozed in his arms for the next couple of hours, until he finally turned off the lights so you could both sleep. You laid facing him, nose to nose, letting out a gentle sigh. when, without warning, he nudged your legs apart and you felt the ridge of his hard cock between your folds again.

With slow movements of his hips he teased himself against you until your arousal started to wet his cock. You mewled softly, too exhausted to do much of anything beyond what your body was already doing of its own accord. His hand soon slipped between you, directing his erection to your slickened slit.

“Billy -” you moaned as you felt his tip start to nudge its way into you, “I don’t think I can...”

He shushed you softly. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I just want to fall asleep inside of you. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

When you didn’t object further, you felt his cock start to slowly fill you. A soft moan spilled from you but it was quickly swallowed by his lips as he kissed you gently, tenderly. And, once he was buried inside of you, his arms held you tight against his chest.

“Mine,” Billy whispered, pressing one last sweet kiss to your lips.

And you were.

You were completely Billy’s now. You just weren’t sure how to tell him…

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

END NOTES : I didn't mean for this to get so long but I didn't want to break it up. I liked playing around with them actually learning a bit about each other and functioning like a normal couple for a while. I have a bonus Christmas thing that I wanted to post earlier, but it wouldn't have worked with where the story was, so I'm probably going to be posting that on Sunday - you don't have to read it to keep up with the story though (it's just a bit of smutty xmas fun).

Anyway, as always, thank you so much for reading this, it's really great to see how many of you come by week after week and I really appreciate every single one of you!!

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (I know it's not working for everyone - if it's not working and you don't want to miss a chapter, I post pretty much every friday, though there will be a bonus chapter going up on sunday)

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval @doloreschanal @damagelove @danzer8705 @unlikelystarlightcowboy @schlotzshewrote @bisexualbith @uncontainedsmiles @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lilliesofmay @billyrussoslut @readingabouthim

[tojiscumdumpster]

CHAPTER FIVE - READER

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page

content warnings - vanilla smut.

 I’m sober enough to be grateful that it’s Saturday, but I’m hungover enough to wish I didn’t drink so damn much last night. Four cocktails and eight shots? I’m surprised I’m not a corpse right now. My head is throbbing, and my body still feels too sluggish to get out of bed. 

 What time is it? Eight? Nine? Who knows? What I do know is that I’m going to take it slow today.

 But even though I have the biggest headache right now, I can’t deny that last night was probably the best sleep I’ve had in a while. 

 It felt warm. Safe, like I was being protected and cared for. And I know damn well Mr. Don Julio was not responsible for that. 

 When I get drunk, I can sometimes remember bits and pieces of what happened the night before, in the next morning. I know I was at a bachelorette party. I saw Toji—

 Wait, I saw Toji. We snuck away into the utility closet to make out like two horny college kids and talked. But he said something that hurt my feelings, causing my whole over drinking fiasco.

 Then, some random guy who was hard on the eyes started dancing with me. I can’t remember much after that, but I’m sure he was a creep.

 Realistically, I do need to get up to start my day. I have a couple of errands to run, and I sort of promised Nanami that we would meet for lunch later. Why? I don’t know. Again, I don’t hate him. It’s just… I don’t know. 

 But when I tried to get up from bed, I felt like I was being held down by an arm. Rough yet soft grumbles pass through ears that scatter goosebumps across my core. 

 In a way, they sound therapeutic. Though, I’m still skeptical about who’s in my bed because I don’t remember hooking up with anyone, let alone allowing someone to sleep over. 

 However, the moment I looked up to see those dark, mid-length, raven locks. The distinctive scar on his lip. His soft rose-colored lips, I broke from his embrace and jumped away from him. 

 Did I…

 “Toji?” 

 He barely stirs, but my voice is enough to wake him up. “Hm?” 

 My mouth waters at the sight of him, laying in my bed, wearing only a tank top that bare his biceps, but leaves me with questions because of the scars that accompany his beautiful skin. And his briefs that shows his toned thighs and— fuck . His semi-hard dick print. 

 I should look away, I should. But it’s hard when the man you’ve been fantasizing about for the past week is laying in your bed, looking like that. 

 “A picture will last longer,” he rasps. That deep fucking husky voice that sounds even sexier in the morning. 

 Y/N. Focus. 

 Heat floods under my cheeks as I look away. “What are you doing here?”

 “Last night really fucked you up, didn’t it?” 

 “I… Did we… Did we-”

 “Have sex?” He finishes for me, and I nod. “No. I wouldn’t do that to anyone… Not to you.” His last words were filled with softness that made my heart skip a beat. 

  Why am I so drawn to this man?

 Toji continues, “You’re pretty fucking clingy when you’re drunk, though. I took you home and cleaned you up for bed and I saw-” He stops mid-sentence, causing me to raise my brow in curiosity.

 “You saw what?” He sits up and turns away from me. I notice a light crimson color forming across his face and spreading to his ears. “Toji Fushiguro, are you blushing? What did you see?”

 “Just drop it.”

 “Nope,” I countered, jumping on him to get his attention back to me. I’m now playfully straddling his lap, completely oblivious. 

 It's like my hangover washed over me the second I knew Toji was in my presence. He was my serotonin, and I didn’t even realize. 

 “Aren’t you supposed to be hungover? Where the hell did all this energy come from?” He asks. 

 “Suddenly I’m not hungover anymore because I’m more interested in what you saw-”

 “Naked,” he interjects. “I saw you naked. When I was looking for your oversized tee shirts, you took off your dress while my back was turned and… yeah.”

 “Oh…”

 All the energy I had come to a halt while zeroing in on Toji. Me, still straddling his lap, becomes lost in his expensive emerald-colored hues. They’re so sharp. So pretty. Those soft lines, forming around his eyes that come with age, suits him well. But you wouldn’t even be able to tell he was forty-two because his skin is so smooth.

 His eyelashes are dark and medium length. Brows straight and thin. Lips rosy and slightly plumped. Toji, who claims to be an indecent man, appears like a beautiful catalyst to me. 

 It’s true what he says about us barely knowing each other, even though it doesn’t feel like that because in such little time, my life feels safe with him. 

 “Y/N,” he whispers. He calls for me and when he does, I feel his erection growing against my pussy. 

 “I’m sorry.” I start to pull away, but he holds me in place.

 “It’ll go down. Don’t want you to feel pressured to have sex with me,” he assures.

 “Okay… what if I—” I begin rubbing my sex against his dick. 

 “Y/N.” This time his voice is hoarse when he says my name.

 My pace quickens and the added friction of his briefs acting as a barrier brings me more pleasure than I expected. I lick and kiss all over his neck to hear more of his husky groans. 

 “Tell me if you want me to stop, Toji,” I say barely above a whisper. “Do you want me to?”

 He grabs my hips and rolls me on him faster. “Fuck no.” 

 It’s not sex, but fuck, this feels so good. The material of his briefs has me feeling Toji like he is bare under me. Dry humping might be a virgin thing to do, however, it’s aiding me in a much needed orgasm. 

 I take one of Toji’s hands to hike up my shirt and squeeze my nipples, having me arch my back in pure bliss. He’s just so hard. I’m very tempted to pull him out and ride his dick, but I’m not ready for that yet. 

 Our moans continue to mingle the quicker we chase our release, and I feel myself soaking up his briefs. Embarrassment fills my emotions from how needy I sound, along with my whimpering. Toji forces our lips together to devour all my sounds of pleasure, biting and sucking on my bottom lip that he can’t get enough of. 

 My sudden change of movements from grinding on his cock to bouncing and rolling seems to have an effect on him, just as much as it does to me. 

 “Fuck, you’re going to make me bust in my fucking boxers like I never had pussy before, Y/N,” he admits. “Keep doing that.”

 “Maybe because you never had mine.”

 Something about my words had Toji growling and flipping me over, where he’s now above me. The look in his eyes is almost primal. No. It is primal. Hungry, craving to feast on me until I tap out. 

 Before I protest from his loss touch, his lips are back on me, and he dry fucks me as if he’s actually inside of my pussy. His hips snaps into mine while dragging his mouth across my face and neck. Toji continues to pinch my nipples underneath my shirt and I'm a whining mess. 

 “Toji, I’m about to come,” I cry. 

 “Why do you sound so fucking sweet? How are you going to sound when my cock is actually inside of you?” Too many questions where I’m too horny to form an answer. “You think you could take me, pretty girl?”

 “Yes.”

 He chuckles, showing mockery to my answer. “We’ll see.”

 Why did that laugh, those two words, trigger me to come? It hit me hard, and blurred my vision with the tears that pricked my eyes. Toji’s presence was enough serotonin, but this? Nothing or no one could possibly ruin my day after this. 

 I softly gasp for air and it’s as if he knew to kiss me with such eagerness to breathe all the life back into me. Holding him tightly, I wrap my legs around his waist to take his thrusts and swallow his harsh grunts. 

 “About to fucking come, Y/N,” he growls. 

 “So come.”

 He gives me a few more dry thrusts until the bed creaks and the headboard hits the wall before coming in his briefs. 

 Toji gives me a sloppy kiss, overpowering, and not giving me a chance to keep up with his moments. Coming down from our orgasms together is an experience I never expected to happen so soon, but it felt right to do it now. 

 I’m completely sober to remember this moment with Toji. 

 Our breaths are shallow and his forehead rests on mine. Soon, he slowly rises from me to look at the mess we, well, I made on his briefs.

 They’re drenched. While he pulls apart a string of my wetness connects to him that makes my cheeks warm and causes me to look away. I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed, but I am. 

 “You’re so… fucking wet.” His deep and raspy voice soothes me. I feel his hand grasping my chin to turn my face to him. “Beautiful.”

 “Not into the lovey dovey shit, huh?” I say, repeating the words he said to me last night. 

 He scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. What you said was right, wanting to scare people away and shit.”

 I don’t want to interrupt his thoughts so I nod my head so he can continue.

 “I’m not good at relationships. Only been in one and, well… you know how that ended.”

 I stand on my knees to level with his eyes. “I’m not asking for a relationship from you. Not now, at least. Let’s just get to know each other.”

 He looks at me to consider my request, eyes wavering across my face. His hand goes to spring the tendril in my face, and I remember to curse myself later for now putting on my bonnet. 

 Toji takes his time to caress my face, line out my jaw, cuff my neck, and trace my collarbone. His touch is delicate yet burns through my skin. If I can feel this all day, I know I would be okay. 

 “Alright.”

 “Alright?” I repeat.

 He nods, giving me a half smile. “Alright.”

 Again, my arms are around his neck, and I pull him into a kiss for a few more minutes before I head out for the day. 

 Having lunch with my ex-fiancé, who is also my boss, is not how I wanted to spend my afternoon, but here I am anyway.

 After I spoke to Nanami this past Monday about potentially having dinner with him last night, it completely slipped my mind that I had a bachelorette party to attend. I’m rushing at five in the evening to grade tests for six different classes because my free period was used for a parent-teacher conference, and here comes Nanami coming in my classroom to see if we can still go to dinner. 

 I was honestly shocked that he had the nerve to ask me that question, like I want to spend my weekend grading papers. Unlike him, I like to enjoy my only two days off without thinking about work. 

 But when it comes to him? I’m sure he expected me to drop everything and accompany him to dinner. 

 Nanami stopped doing that for me, so why would I do that for him? 

 Anyways. 

 Because I wanted to see why he was so eager to talk to me, I decided to allow him to take me out to lunch today so we could talk. To see how things are going. His words, not mine.

 “How was the bachelorette party?” He queries, pulling me from my thoughts. 

 I sip on my sparkling water. “It was fun. Had too many drinks. So, I still feel a bit sluggish.”

 “I see. I know the martinis here are your favorite. Too bad you can’t drink any.”

 “Not unless you want me to puke everywhere.”

 Silence. 

 This is exactly what I was worried about. Is this why Nanami wanted to meet up? To have awkwardness while eating eggs and waffles? The chemistry. The love, at least, the love I had for him, died. A long time ago. This feels trivial. 

 “You brought me to one of the restaurants we used to go to together, you ordered my entire meal because you know me ever so well, and now we’re struggling to make small talk.” I come in hard with my accusations. “What did you want to talk about?”

 “I want us to try to make things work, Y/N.”

 I laugh. “That’s not happening. We tried twice. How many times do you need?”

 “Now? Just one. I know I haven’t been the best in our relationship, but these months without you made me realize there’s more important things in life,” he explains. “Memories. Marriage. Parenthood… I eventually want to build that with you if you allow me.”

 “If I allow you?” I mock. “That’s the thing, Ken. I never was opposed to any of that. You knew how much getting married and becoming a mother meant to me. I didn’t take away from you. You took that away from us.” 

 “I’m sorry.”

 I scoff. “Sorry for what? For staying late at work? For declining me sex? For having me to go to our friends get togethers alone? What exactly are you sorry for?”

 I attack Nanami with all these questions because it honestly fucking amazes me that he invited me to lunch to try to convince me to give another chance. 

 We were together for five years. Engaged for one. Problems began two years prior. I’ve been more than patient with Nanami. I was the only person to actually understand how he feels because I’m a freaking teacher. Work is hard on me, too. 

 But the difference is, I know how to keep it at school. Yeah, maybe I have my days when I have to grade at home. However, when it came to Nanami? I dropped the world for him…

 Why couldn’t he do that for me?

 I’m not going to cry over him in front of him. Not here. Not now, so this lunch needs to be cut short. 

 “I’m sure you’re sorry, Kento. Actually, I know you are,” I tell him. “I can’t act like we didn't share some amazing memories. The love you had for me when you were in our relationship was beautiful. You made me light.”

 “I still lov-”

 “But you also hurt me—badly.” I gather my things to leave him at the table, but before I do. I say one more thing to him. “I don’t think I forgave you yet. If you want to be friends, cool. Give me time for that. But romantically? There’s no chance for that anymore.”

 Nanami’s hand sits in lap, and if I know him like I think I do, they’re probably balled up in fists. I know his anger isn’t directed toward me, but at the reality of our demise. 

 “Okay… I understand. I’ll give you time, Y/N.”

 “Thank you.” I give him a solemn smile. “See you around, Ken. Take care of yourself.”

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

discussion question #1 — we see both reader and toji becoming familiar with each other, and trying to figure out why they don't feel like strangers. based on their interactions, who do you think will fall in love first?

[tgmsunmontue]

More than movie magic... 18/24

Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN

Chapter 16 is pretty much the only explicit chapter (so far), so you can skip it if you like, but it's not explicit by my standards, and it's very soft/tender.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

                “Well hey there…” Jake says, and now that he knows Bradley likes his Texan accent he makes no effort to temper it, but Bradley looks annoyed instead of amused or aroused and Jake hopes the annoyance isn’t directed at him. Not already.

                “Hi. Can I talk to you real quick?”

                “Uh, yeah, of course…”

                Of course there are catcalls and Jake rolls his eyes, but his heart is beating fast, thundering in his ears, terrified that this is somehow going to be his shortest lived relationship ever. He doesn’t know what he’s projecting exactly, but Bradley’s reaching for him, lacing their fingers together and pulling him to the side, just out of the way and out of earshot from most people although he notes pretty much every eye in the room is turned their way.

                “Hey. Hey calm down. We’re fine. You’re fine…”

                Bradley has shifted, putting his back to the room, as if he’s protecting Jake from everyone, eyes flicking over his face and his expression is concerned. Fuck.

                “Jake… you with me?”

                “Yeah, sorry. Just… heard those words before and it’s generally not the start of a good conversation.”

                “Sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry. I just need to tell you something, and I feel like I’m going to be apologizing a lot today. Nothing either of us did though, okay?”

                “The photos?”

                “Yeah. Mav’s seen them.”

                “Mav?”

                “Sorry. Pete. He’s on his way here because he called me from the air and he’s incapable of believing I can make my own life decisions.”

                “Okay. That’s okay. I’ve met Pete before.”

                “Yeah. You met professional-Pete, not parent-Pete. Different beast unfortunately. Just… if I could have kept him from meeting your mom until after we were married or something that’s how I would have played it, but, uh…”

                “You’ve thought about us getting married?” Jake blurts out, surprised.

                “Uh. No? Well. Not in detail exactly.”

                All his feelings around Bradley second guessing his decision to be with him have just dissolved, and he knows he had no reason to doubt it, but also knows his brain isn’t a rational place sometimes. Instead he’s watching Bradley blush and look awkward and he’s definitely falling in love with him.

                “I generally don’t start relationships with people I can’t imagine myself spending the rest of my life with? I’m thirty-five, I have a better idea of what I’m looking for. And I can imagine a future with you, so… here we are.”

                “Oh. So why would Pete be worried about that?”

                “God. This is not the place for that conversation. Just. I’ll tell you, but we have fifteen minutes before we’re meant to be on set and I need to tell you something else… He’s bringing Tom. His partner. Um.”

                Jake has to admit he’s confused. Pete having a male partner doesn’t really explain why Bradley seems as worked up as he is.

                “Okay. So it’s a man. You seriously don’t think I’d have a problem with that do you?” Jake asks, staring at him and gesturing between the two of them. Bradley is shaking his head though, like there’s more and Jake waits.

                “Tom as in Tom Kazansky.”

                “What?”

                Okay then. That’s a name and a half. Jake knows who that is of course, but he never met the man, Kazansky being pretty much a recluse since his health scare a decade previous when Jake had only just started making a name for himself. Jake isn’t even sure he’d recognize the man, the photo used in any media one from over twenty years ago.

                “Yeah. They’re… shit.  Thought I’d have time to tell you and prepare you for how weird they are. They have… a complicated relationship. They’re both incredibly stubborn and agree that they love each other, but they also… well. Tom got cancer, so he called it all off, said Pete could find someone better, and that started a whole other fight, but it was the most ridiculous thing, arguing over who loved each other more. They’re both hopeless, but neither of them can see it.”

                “Oookay…” Jake says slowly, his mind racing, because quite frankly he doesn’t care about Pete or Tom, he just wants Bradley to stop freaking out. “Bradley. They aren’t going to scare me off anymore than my family has scared you off.”

                As he’d hoped that makes Bradley laugh and he can’t help his answering grin.

                “I like your family.”

                “Well, that’s good. God. We’ve got to get to set. Marcia is going to have my head.”

                “I need to talk to her too, give her a heads up about Pete,” Bradley says, and he’s glancing over his shoulder then, eyes scanning the room and Jake reaches for his face and gets his attention before kissing him.

                “Go. I’ll see you in the arena shortly. Hope you appreciate that I don’t have to do makeup today!”      

…            …            …

                He’s distracted as he watches Jake walk away, but only a little, because he needs to find Marcia and Arnold, let them know that Pete is coming, but only to visit him and not to be an ass and tread on another turf, despite that totally being Mav’s MO. He knows Mav is getting on and mutters about retiring, but whenever he’s not working Bradley has to deal with more of his bullshit than usual.

                “Bradley, you haven’t eaten anything!” Aunty Kaye calls out, and he startles a little, turning toward her, because she’s not wrong, but he is going to be late to set.

                “Uh, no, haven’t really had time yet. I did grab a protein bar. Thank you for that by the way,” Bradley says, and he hopes he isn’t blushing too badly.

                “Hmm. That’s not proper food.”

                “No, I know. I just had a phone call. My dad is coming to visit. Both of them I guess. They’ll probably be here for lunch actually. Assuming they don’t get lost…”

                “Well I look forward to meeting them. Hmm. Do you know why I like you Bradley?”

                “Um. I thought maybe you liked most people?” Bradley asks, suddenly feeling like he’s smack bang in the center of a minefield with no idea how he got there. And of course he can’t be rude and just run away, he’d much rather incur Marcia’s wrath than Aunty Kaye’s at the end of the day.

                “Oh, I do dear. But I liked you before I’d even met you.”

                “Oh.”

                Now he’s confused.

                “You stand up to him, you wouldn’t let him try anything risky or dangerous and he complained about it bitterly,” she says, laughing. “But you know what I thought?”

                “What?”

                “That that sounded like someone who would keep Jake safe and unharmed. I’m his mom, of course I want him safe. He gets into enough trouble without thinking he can do risky stunts.”

                “Yeah. Of course.”

                “You don’t let him railroad you into things, I admire that too.”

                “Thanks?”

                “Here, on his own turf, watching him do something he was born with in his blood? You trust him to know his limits. He needs that too.”

                Bradley just nods, not sure if he’s even allowed to speak.

                “So. I like you. However if I ever find out you’ve deliberately hurt him, either emotionally,  physically or mentally I want you to know that you won’t see me coming. I will find you. Now, I can’t really threaten you with bodily harm, however I can threaten you with my disappointing looks, which my children assure me are the worst thing they’ve ever experienced. Of course, if Jake screws this up he’ll also be on the receiving end of one of such looks. However, I feel like you’re a man who doesn’t give up easily. Some days you’re going to have to dig-deep, because my baby can get in his own head and think the worst of everything and everyone, but I think if he were easy you wouldn’t be as interested as you seem to be.”

                Bradley gapes like a fish, mouth opening and closing and he has no idea what to even say, where to start with everything she’s just said. All it’s highlighting is that he and Jake really need to have a proper talk. Not just about their relationship, but maybe about potential baggage that they have, because he thought maybe he was the only one. He should have known that wasn’t going to be the case.

                “I’ve already told Jake that I think he’s worth it.”

                “Good. Maybe he’ll believe you.”

NINETEEN

[sstarfruitt]

You Should See The Scars.

(Ellis Fielding X Reader)

Ellis Fielding X Reader (NSFW, MINORS DNI)

asked some friends what my first fic should be, @/psychokinetic-ectoplasm said it should be Ellis Fielding from Loose Cannons so. here we are lol

After a little more than 10 years on the force, you figured you must have seen it all. Weird shit in basements during busts, dramatic outbursts in courtrooms, car chases, conspiracies, the whole nine yards. You certainly weren’t living like an action movie hero or anything, but you’d seen a bit of action, and you thought nothing could surprise you anymore.

But when you transferred to a slower department and Detective Fielding was practically dropped in your lap, you realized how wrong you were.

You almost weren’t sure he was a cop when you met him. With that round face and shy smile, you figured he must be some collaborator with the department- a historian, or city official, or something. But there was his badge, gleaming where it hung from the breast pocket of his suit. 

“How come I’ve never met you before, Detective?” you asked, still glancing him over.

“Oh,” he started with a polite smile. “You must have transferred here after I went on leave. I was uh… gone for a couple years. And when I got back, my first case led me to a firefight. I’ve… been in the hospital recovering since then.”

“Ohhhhhh,” you hummed, smiling back. “You were one of the ones on the von Metz case. I knew I’d heard your name somewhere. Congratulations on a job well done, then.”

“Well,” he chuckled with a shy grin. “Couldn’t have done it without help.”

-----

From the beginning, you knew full well that Fielding had his… little quirk. His uncle briefed you on it, with Fielding’s consent, of course. But over the months, you two seemed to have developed an unspoken agreement not to mention it. Sometimes he’d say something like “Hey, is it alright if you drive? I’d do it myself, but, uh, I can’t really…”

You’d cut him off with something like “Yeah, it’s fine.”

It was starting to bother you. It was the elephant in the room, hanging over these conversations about what he could or couldn’t do. You decided you didn’t want to stay quiet about it anymore.

You spoke up during a drive to a crime scene. It had been a few moments of deafening silence when you finally spoke: “Detective Fielding, I just wanna say something.”

“Yeah?” he responded.

“This disorder you have.”

You saw him swallow thickly out of the corner of your eye.

“Y’know, you don’t have to be nervous about telling me what you can or can’t do. I understand that there are triggers you need to avoid.”

He didn’t say anything back.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… I promise I’m not looking at you weird for it. You don’t have to pretend it’s not there. Not that I’m trying to make you talk about it or anything. Just wanted to let you know you don’t have to tiptoe around it if you don’t want to, and I’m okay picking up in the places you can’t.”

…Again, you were answered with silence. You glanced over at him- but were surprised to see him shyly smile at you. “Got it,” he answered quietly, his eyes meeting yours.

-----

You remember the first time you noticed the scars. It was about a year after you’d started working together. The two of you had just come back from some crime scene out under the DC summer sun. In desperate attempts to escape a heat stroke, you had shed your jacket and unbuttoned the top of your shirt. Fielding similarly had left his suit jacket in the car, undone his top buttons too, and had rolled his sleeves up to his forearms.

“God damn,” you sighed as you shut your car door. “I’m ready to write this report and go home.”

“Yeah,” he answered, plodding around from his side of the car to walk beside you. “I’m ready to just shower and lay down.”

“You need it,” you answered. “You’re drenched.”

He looked down to notice the sweat soaking through his shirt, pursing his lips. You couldn’t help but laugh.

It was as you two chatted over the water cooler, chugging the ice-cold water, that you finally noticed. His arm was propped on the cooler, pushing his sleeve up, and… there was something on his skin, peeking out from the hem of his sleeve.

“Hey, Fielding, there’s something on your arm,” you said simply, pointing with the hand that held your cup.

“O-oh, that’s uh-“ he stuttered, bringing his arm to his side and smoothing down his sleeve. “It’s from-“

That’s when it hit you. “Oh god, Fielding, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” he responded. But his lips pursed tightly and he wouldn’t meet your gaze. And right after you had gotten rid of that first elephant in the room, there was now another.

-----

Time passed. You and Fielding had been working together for over a year at this point, but things were way past the point of just being co-workers. After a few spontaneous dinners, a movie or two, and a night at your place, you had to make it official and have the department separate and reassign you. Of course, you wanted to be professional and keep your relationship out of your work. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t mingle in the hallways or head to dinner right after clocking out. It’s not like you drove in separate cars.

You couldn’t help your affection for him. His nervous little smiles, the stupid little bow ties he wore, the way he’d light up when he’d see you- he was such a sweetheart, too. You felt like the protagonist of a corny coming-of-age movie.

But there was always that elephant in the room.

You’d kiss him, he’d kiss back, you’d reach up to unbutton his shirt- but then he’d gently wrap his warm hands around your wrists and carefully pull your hands away from his collar. Or maybe you’d reach for his belt buckle- same thing, he’d gently pull your hands away, holding your hands in his. And he’d always look down at you with those big, mismatched eyes and purse his lips. After trying a few times over the course of a few weeks, you understood and stopped trying.

It nagged at you. Was it those scars? Is that why he wouldn’t let you see him undressed? Or was he just not into you? Was he trying to spare your feelings? You didn't even mind that he didn't want to have sex, you just wanted to understand why;

You didn’t know what to think, and you were too worried to ask. And so, you suffered in silence, longing for his touch, wishing you knew why he didn’t want you.

But eventually, you got your answer.

Summer had come again, and with it, another day of suffering in the sun. He’d come back to your apartment with you, with a promise of buying you lunch after using your shower. With a few laughs and smiles, you nudge him along to your bedroom.

“The bathroom connects to the bedroom. So just leave your clothes here, and I’ll try to dry them off while you’re in there,” you purr, running your fingers through his sweaty hair.

“Sounds good to me,” he answers with a smile. You grin back at him as you shut the door for him.

But then you realized. “Oh, wait, Ellis, Honey-“ you started, grabbing a towel from where you kept them, before hurrying back and pushing the door open. “Don’t get undressed yet, I forgot to give y-“

You paused in the doorway. There he was, sitting on the edge of your bed, his sweaty shirt in his hands.

They were worse than you thought.

The scars were all over him. Knife wounds, you figured. They were buried into his skin- several on his chest, a few on his shoulders, upper arms, and stomach. Despite being old and faded, they were obvious.

His eyes caught your attention next. His bright, mismatched eyes staring wide up at you, his lips slightly parted in shock. He must be terrified.

“Ellis,” you breathed.

“Please don’t look,” he responded weakly.

“Wait, Ellis.” You hurried over, settling on your knees in front of him to meet his eyes better.

“…I know, they’re awful,” he rasped quietly, looking down at the shirt bunched in his hands.

“No, Honey,” you answer. “They’re not.”

“Don’t try to spare my feelings.”

“No, I mean it, Ellis,” you say, grabbing his hand, gently pulling it away from the fabric of his shirt. His skin is clammy, and his palms sweaty. He looks away, his eyes watery.

There’s a moment of silence. You, sitting before him, clasping his hand gently. You lean in and kiss his cheek.

“I love you so much, just like this. Scars don’t change anything,” you continue. You rest your hand on his chest, your thumb rubbing over a scar.

“Sweetheart-“ he rasps weakly, turning his head a little. As you turn to look at him, he presses his lips to yours. He kisses you softly, weakly, as if he’s about to fall asleep.

When you part, you pant against his parted lips, “I think you’re gorgeous.”

He pauses for a moment. “…You mean it?”

You smoothed your hand up his chest. “Mhm,” you hummed to him. “If you want… I can show you how good I think you look.”

He seemed to pause again. “Only if that’s what you want, of course,” you continue, smiling sympathetically. “I just want to show you that I love you."

“I’d like that,” he said, almost a whisper, giving his usual shy, nervous smile.

“Great. I promise I’ll take good care of you,” you respond, smiling back.

After a moment, you move your head, pressing your lips to his neck. Already, he whimpers quietly. Your fingertips smooth over a scar on his chest, and he shivers a little at the strange sensation. You take a few moments to press kisses down his neck and across his shoulder. “You doing okay, Ellis?” you ask.

“Y-yeah,” he sighed breathlessly.

Your lips touched a scar on his collarbone. A whimper almost broke from his throat, but he barely managed to keep himself quiet. As you pressed a few more kisses to his neck, your fingertips brushed downward over the remainder of the scars on his torso. Eventually, they settled on his belt.

“Ellis…” you said lowly. You leaned back to look his his eyes. His were still damp- but they were hazy and a little blown out. “Is it alright if I stroke you?”

He swallowed thickly and nodded, his eyes locked to yours. At that, you smiled and leaned in to kiss him. This time, he kissed back with some force, hungry for more, but still weak. After you undid his belt, he lifted his hips to let you work his slacks down.

There were more scars. A few zigzagged across his thighs. You noticed a more recent scar that must have been the bullet wound from his gunfight. But what stood out to you was a particularly deep one across his abdomen, carved into his stomach, between his hips.

You can’t imagine what it had been like for him. Held down, watching a blade drag through your stomach- you blinked away the dampness in your eyes. Your fingers brushed against the scar, tracing the length of it lightly.

“Sweetheart,” he called softly, lifting his hand from your shoulder to brush through your hair.

You snapped out of it. “Sorry. I’m just… I’m sorry you’ve been through so much, Ellis. You didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s alright,” he answered. “I’m okay, here with you.”

You smiled sadly up at him, and he smiled back. You took the hand brushing through your hair, kissing his knuckle before leaning back a little to finally take care of him. 

“Oh,” you breathed quietly, your eyes tracing over his length for the first time.

His heart jumped in his chest. “What?”

“You’re bigger than I expected.”

He couldn’t help but blush a little at that.

You reached out to wrap a hand around his member, already half-hard. He quietly sucked in a breath at the sensation of your warm fingers wrapping around him. God, it felt just as he’d always imagined.

It took everything in him not to whimper when you pumped him once slowly. He watched your hand drag down his length and back up, then lifted his gaze. His eyes met yours for a moment. “You’re so cute,” you purred. He immediately looked away with a little noise of surprise.

Once again, you pumped his length at an agonizingly slow pace. Finally, a tiny whine tumbled from his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

“Feeling okay?” you asked softly, your fingers still wrapped around the base.

“Uh-huh,” he rasped back. “Please.”

“Of course. Here, Honey,” you answer.

The moment you started properly stroking his length, another little moan escaped his throat. You watched his eyes flutter shut, before he lowered his head to hide his face from you.

“Ellis,” you purred softly, catching his chin in the palm of your free hand and lifting it up. His face leveled with yours; His eyebrows were knit, his lips slightly parted, and his eyes were hazy. You leaned in, and softly pressed your lips to his. Instantly, he whined into it and pressed closer. His kiss was desperate and deep now. Months of wanting you- starving for your touch, your affection, but being too scared to admit it, bubbled to the surface. One of his hands gripped at the fabric of your shirt, and his free one settled on your arm. You felt his warm palms through the fabric- you could feel that he was trembling faintly.

A burst of pleasure bubbled up from his belly. At that, he broke the seal of the kiss, finally sighing a full moan against your lips.

“You’re doing great, Ellis,” you whispered to him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. You reached up with your free hand to brush your fingers through his hair. Still damp, you thought. I’ll help him shower after this.

“Sweetheart-“ he whined, “I’ve wanted you so bad.”

“Mhm?”

“Y-you have no idea how much I’ve dreamed about this,” he said, looking down to watch your grip firmly drag up his length.

“Mmm, what do you dream about?” you answered sweetly.

“U-uh. You kissing me. Taking care of me like this.”

You met his eyes for a moment- he looked back at you, waiting with bated breath to know how you felt about his fantasies. You leaned in to kiss him again, and he moaned into it eagerly. After a moment, your lips parted from his, and you said quietly, “Well, I’m right here to take care of you. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Really?” He said, leaning back to look at you with wide eyes.

“Mhm.”

His eyes stayed glued to yours for a moment, before turning away. Eventually he turned back to you, and rasped, “Faster. Please.”

You giggled softly. “Of course, Ellis.”

You picked up the pace of your grip pumping up and down his length, instantly drawing another moan from his throat. His head rolled back a little as his eyes fluttered shut once again and his brow furrowed. Your lips pressed against his jaw before you leaned back to watch yourself stroke him.

To your delight, precum had beaded on the tip of his dick. You gently ran the pad of your thumb over the head, eliciting a shudder and a moan from him. He rolled his head forward, his hazy gaze meeting yours. Your first name left his lips- something you’d never heard him say before.

“Hi,” you responded playfully. You leaned forward, once again pressing your lips to his, and he kissed back just as eagerly and hungrily as before. This is where you stayed as you continued to stroke his length, hot and practically throbbing in your palm.

His lips eventually parted from yours, as another moan ripped from his throat. His hips squirmed slightly, pushing his dick into your grip.

“You’re close, huh?” you asked.

“G- yeah-“ he moaned back.

“Go ahead, Ellis.”

He whimpered softly as you picked up the pace once again, stroking his length harder to help him reach his finish. He only lasted a few more moments before he finished with a broken moan. He spilled into your palm, some of it landing on your sleeve. You didn’t mind much. You continued to work him through his climax, until he moaned your name once again.

The look on his face was so sweet, his mouth hanging open a little and his brow furrowed. You didn’t realize a simple handjob would make such a mess of him.

But as the afterglow faded out, he opened his eyes and realized where he had finished. “Oh, Sweetheart, I… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ he started, a look of shame coming over his face.

“It’s alright, Ellis. I should have grabbed the towel. I was just so focused on you,” you answered, smiling up at him warmly.

He chuckled breathlessly, rubbing his hand over his face in embarrassment. “Oh man. Thank you,” he sighed. “That was… You’re wonderful,” he continued.

“You only deserve the best,” you purr back.

“Oh, quit it.” he responds, a smile playing about his lips.

“I mean it! You’re such a sweetheart, Ellis. You deserve to pampered.”

“If you think so,” he answered quietly, watching you wipe your palm and sleeve clean. Once you had it all off, you scooted closer and settled between his knees again, wrapping your arms around his waist. He placed a hand on the back of your head, burying his fingers in your hair. Your lips found a scar on his collarbone- he shuddered softly at the sensation.

“You know I meant every word I said, Honey,” you said quietly. “I love you more than anything. Scars and all.”

For a moment, there was only silence. But then he answered. “That means the world to me.”

His hand found its way under your chin, pushing your face up until he could press his lips to yours. He kissed gently, slowly this time. His palm pressed against your cheek, his thumb stroking the skin of your cheekbone. When he parted for air, he smiled down at you, his eyes finally softened and happy.

“How about we jump in the shower? You still have all that sweat sticking to you.”

“Oh, don’t tell me I smelled sweaty that whole time.”

“Wasn’t paying attention.”

He chuckled softly.

“Hey, why don't you join me?” he said with a soft grin. “Please, let me show you how thankful I am. Show you how beautiful I think you are.”

[averagedualies]

…Oh? A pelipper just dropped off a letter. Addressed from uhhhhhh-

“From: Vincent (The really hot famous one)”

Oh! I remember this guy! He’s the one that’s like- the taller one with ungodly amounts of makeup. Yeah I know who this is. Lemme attach what he wrote (putting it below a read more, since its kinda long)

“This weird bird just came crashing through my window with a note asking if I wanted to send a letter back so.. here you go.

Life has been.. interesting. Had to uh, ‘deal with’ Nine again. But he’s.. not gonna be a problem anymore! (still can’t believe he got brought back.)

I’ve got good news though. Two things actually

One: IM FUCKING MARRIED BITCHESSSSS!!! It doesn’t even feel real if I’m being honest. But, cod, she’s so beautiful. I seriously don’t know how he fell in love with me of all people. I’ll attach the wedding photos to this letter.

Two: We did it. We actually fucking did it. We have an honest-to-cod cure for sanitization… kinda. As far as we’re aware, there’s no way to fully cure sanitization. What you can do though, is restore free-will to fully sanitized people… with a bit of luck. Let me try to explain.

First off, her name is Coral. She was fully sanitized relatively recently, during the commander’s final stand. Because of how recent it was we were able to pretty easily find who she was before (with some help from Octavio). This was important because to reverse it at all, we need genetically similar healthy cells to act as a kinda catalyst. We got insanely lucky with Coral as she had a living twin who agreed to help, and we managed to recover her.

Even if you meet all these conditions though, you still can’t fully reverse it. Even with partial sanitization your body kinda grows a reliance on the stuff, making it near impossible to remove without… yk. There’s potential to reduce some scarring, but that’s about all that can be done for someone like me.

Anyways, she’s recovering now. She’s got her free will back (which honestly, that’s the most important part). We’re working with the C.Q.s to try and recover as much data about each subject as possible. They’ve been shockingly helpful, all things considered.

But I’ll stop talking now though and let you all see the photos. They're pretty cool :]”

[Image attachments: The first photo is of Byte, wearing a gorgeous wedding dress. It’s a sleek white dress that fades to purple near the bottom. The darker part is embroidered with silver constellations.

The second photo is of Vincent, wearing an incredibly sharp suit. It’s accented with shades of deep rust and gold.

The third photo has them together, Vincent… taller than Byte? He’s leaning over her shoulder with a smug grin

…it’s painfully obvious he’s standing on a box or two.]

Think that’s everything? Oh- wait nope, one more

[Image attachment: It’s an octoling. Her skin is typical of a sanitized octoling, but she has soft teal eyes and blue tentacles that fade to a vibrant pink near the end. She’s.. smiling. It’s small, but genuine.]

…I don't really have a lot to say on that one. Uh- wow. Just wow.

Also holy carp a version of me got married-

[utopiamedspa]

10 days post Abdominoplasty/ Tummy Tuck/ Mommy Makeover - Franklin A. Rose, MD

I'm here with Very beautiful Stacy Henderson who is now at 10 days, only 10 days status post what we call a floating umbilicus abdominoplasty and I mean, it is Flat. Flat, Flat, Flat. This is a little compression garment that she's wearing. Stacy: Yeah, I'm going to burn it in about five weeks! Dr. Franklin Rose: She came to me with an umbilical hernia, liposuction elsewhere that was quite irregular. And we ended up fixing her hernia. No suture line around the belly button. A little bikini incision about oh about this long. Stacy: So it's only been 10 days. So I got all my stitches out today. I'm like on the road to recovery. I was telling Doctor Rose I'm just disappointed that I didn't do it five years ago, I lived with the hernia I lived with the irregularity because I was afraid to get it fixed like that it might be worse and Dr. Rose told me ''No, I can fix it,'' and I was hesitant and now I'm like oh I could have five years in a bikini that I've been hiding and now I'm going to show everybody! I will do a bikini thing but give me give me another few days. But yeah, I just wish I would have done it sooner. I love it! Dr. Franklin Rose: Well, I mean, Stacy has a beautiful figure. She's quite near her ideal body weight but the real indications were this little hernia and then she was so irregular. It was wavy. I would call it wavy and the skin was, it was just loose. Stacy: People would say, ''oh I don't really know what you're talking about.'' Well, I took a before picture. Right. I don't want to post it but I'm going to because it just. Yeah. It shows, but I didn't show anybody so you didn't know it was there. Dr. Franklin Rose: She messaged me with photos from Honduras. Stacy: Yes, I did. Dr. Franklin Rose: And she said, she's had it. I'm done. She didn't like all of these all of this irregularity and the hernia was I'm sure a little bit painful at times. Stacy: It was. It impeded. I couldn't work out. I I haven't been able to work my abs out in nine years! It just made everything worse. So, it was bad and the skin was bad. Three babies popped out of this tummy too. Yes, three, three C sections! Dr. Franklin Rose: And we got rid of her C-section scar. The only thing that happened is she had a beautiful decorative tattoo. That had to go. Stacy: I'm not a attached to it at all. Now, I'll get a prettier one that's thinner. Right. And so, I couldn't be happier. I can't wait to show everybody. Even my husband who was the one that was a little hesitant. He's like, "oh wow!'' Like, it's good. Dr. Franklin Rose: Her husband is a well-known emergency physician in Houston, but anyhow, we don't want to belabor this! Stacy: No, no. I'm not going to brag about how great my stomach is but it's really good. Dr. Franklin Rose: She's done just great and thank you for viewing this with us. Thank you! Dr. Franklin Rose is a board-certified plastic surgeon who can help you  achieve the look you've always wanted. Contact our office today for a consultation and start your journey to a more beautiful you! 📲 (713) 622-2277 Learn more about Dr. Franklin Rose by visiting our website and scheduling a consultation! https://www.utopiaplasticsurgery.com/ 📍Utopia Plastic Surgery & Med Spa 1121-16 Uptown Park Blvd. Houston, TX 77056 #franklinrosemd #boardcertified #plasticsurgeon #facelift #breastaugmentation #tummytuck #liposuction #umbilicalhernia #abdominoplasty #beforeandaftervideo

[sasholotl]

for all the werewolf!Robin fans out there, I am here to feed you ! It’s a quick piece, hope you will like it !

''How did it happen ?'' Nancy asks one night, her fingers trailing soflty over the scar curling between her neck and shoulder, most of it hidden beneath Robin's shirt. She watches carefully for any flinch or wince from Robin, but her girlfriend only closes her eyes and sigh. ''You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,'' she adds almost immediately, uncomfortable at the idea of Robin forcing herself to talk, ''We can just forget I ask.''

Robin smiles, but it's not like any of her other smiles. This one is subdued, weary, so different from the wide one she flashes Nancy when she's being goofy, or the soft one stretching her lips when she stares at her.

This one screams of pain and sadness, and a million of other things Nancy can't quite decipher.

''It's okay Nance. It happened a long time ago.'' Robin turns on her side, finally opening her eyes to look at Nancy. It feels intimate, the way she looks at her, open and vulnerable. Nancy can't help but press a kiss to her head, affection building in her chest for the girl laying in her bed, ready to talk about the worst thing that ever happened in her life. ''Besides, as my girlfriend, you have now unlocked my dark and mysterious background. Hope you're ready for it, Wheeler.'’

Despite her, a chuckle finds its way out of her throat. To save face, she rolls her eyes and mutters, ''You're a dork.'' before placing a kiss to Robin's cheek, who snickers proudly.

''Yeah, but I'm your dork.''

''That you are.''

For a moment, silence reigns between them. It could have been oppressive, but Robin has taken her hand, and with gentle fingers, she grazes the soft skin of Nancy's palm as if she's holding the most precious thing in the world. Nancy lets her, struggling to keep her chest from exploding at the tenderness with which Robin treats her.

''Was nine when it happened,'' Robin begins, her eyes carefully set on her palm's lines, ''I was with my family, on vacation in some cabin deep inside the forest. One night...'' Robin inhales deeply, her grip tightening slightly. Squeezing her hand brings a small smile to her lips. ''One night, we were all around a campfire, telling jokes and creepy stories and it was fine, you know ? One of the happiest moment we had.''

Robin's eyes flick to hers, lost far away, unseeing. ''It happened all of a sudden. One moment I was laughing my ass off at something my dad told, the next something barrelled into me. I didn't even have time to scream. Its jaw was already keeping me in place and its teeth-'' Sitting up, Robin turns away from her, rubbing her eyes furiously. Nancy follows her, bringing one hand to her back, relieved when Robin leans into it.

''It's okay Rob, you really don't have to continue.''

''No, it's fine, it's cool, I can do it, it's okay.'' Her girlfriend doesn't look like she can do it, but Nancy doesn't protest, pushing her fingers against Robin's back, kneading and pressing like her girlfriend loves. Robin half-turns. Her profile is illuminated by the room's light. She looks beautiful. ''Really Nancy, it's fine. I think... I think I need to do it. I've never really talk about it with anyone.''

''And you need to lighten the burden.'' Nancy says, smiling wearily at Robin's suprised glance. ''I get it.''

Robin's face softens, understanding dawning on her. She turns fully, brings two arms around Nancy's shoulders and tugs until they're pressed flushed against each other, beating heart to beating heart. They stay like that until Nancy feels like the thing expanding in her chest will devour them both.

(Love, it's called love her brain whispers but she ignores it.)

''Sometimes, it feels like it's never going to get away.'' Robin mutters against her cheek, warm and wobbly. ''Like I'm one second away from this night. Like its weight is still resting on my shoulders.'' She can feel the slight shake of Robin's chest against her, reverberating in her own chest, the pain and grief of this moment echoing through her as if she's living it herself. ''Like I can feel my own blood pouring out of me, wet and warm and sticky.''

Her words end in a whine, a high-pitched sound that makes Nancy react instinctively. She shuffles closer to Robin, weaving one arm around her waist, the other curling on her shoulders, leaving her ample of space to bury one hand in Robin's hair. Robin sags against her, shaking and panting, trying to muffle the sobs building in her throat.

''I'm here, shh, I've got you Robin,'' Nancy whispers, massaging Robin's skull, almost hoping she could wash away all her sorrows with a snap of her finger, ''You're safe here, I'm not letting anyone hurt you.''

A sound, something between a sob and a chuckle, leaves Robin's mouth, ragged and choked as if it was torn out of her throat.

''Thing is, I'm not in danger now Nance. I was, ten years ago. Now ?'' Robin tenses in her embrace, drawing back with an intensity in her eyes that Nancy has never seen before. ''Now I'm the danger.''

The idea of Robin being dangerous is so ridiculous, it would have made her smile, had Robin not look like she completely means it.

''Robin, you're not-''

''I'm literally the same thing as the monster who bursted through the woods that day and attacked me. I could easily rip out your throat, just as easily as it has ripped out mine.''

Robin watches her, her face twisted in something Nancy doesn't understand.

''But you wouldn't do it.'' Nancy says, gently cupping Robin's cheeks, relaxing when her girlfriend leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. ''You wouldn't hurt me, you wouldn't hurt anyone even if you could.'' She presses a brief kiss to her lips. ''You're not a monster, Rob. You're much more than that.''

A self-deprecating smile stretches Robin's lips. ''Am I though ? You've seen what I did to this demodog.''

Nancy scoffs, rolling her eyes. ''Yeah and you saved us, you idiot. You literally used your 'monstrous' abilities to do good and help. How does that make you a monster ?''

Robin opens her eyes, frowning. ''I- It's different, I couldn't let you die !''

''Exactly ! You chose not to let us die, you chose to save us. That's the most heroic thing I've ever seen someone do. Despite fearing what we would say, or think, you still chose to turn and protect us from the demodog.''

Robin just blinks at her, opening her mouth without words passing the barrier of her lips. Despite the situation, Nancy allows herself a triumphant smile.

''I don't know why you're arguing against me, you know I'm always right.''

It's Robin's turn to scoff, although she can't quite hide the smile tugging at her lips. ''Ugh, you wish.

Laughing, Nancy brings her close again, kissing her temple. Her girlfriend falls into the embrace, nuzzling the side of her neck.

''You're too good at making me feel better, Wheeler.''

''And you're too prompt at thinking you're a monster Buckley. Not only it is very melodramatic-''

Robin gasps, shoving her playfully. ''It is so not melodramatic-''

''But you're also the fluffiest big dog I've ever seen.'' At Robin's groan, Nancy grins. ''You are ! Your fur is just so soo-''

''Shut up.'' Robin growls pushing her against the mattress, hovering her in a manner that is supposed to be intimidating. It only brings warmth to her cheeks. ''I am not cute. I am a killing machine.''

''Sure you are, cutie.'' Nancy drawls, dissolving into laughter at her girlfriend's face.

Robin flops down on top of her, and like most of their playful argument, it ends in a tickle fight that Nancy wins because Robin is too busy staring at her with heart eyes. Still, she wouldn't change it, not for anything.

Robin's stuck as her fluffy dog for the rest of their lives.

[dreamsclock]

“Do you think you could ever forgive me?” Quackity asks Dream years later, when injuries have faded into softer scars and they’re both older, quieter, less bitter. The old server’s a distant memory now; Tommy had started up a new one months back and sent invitations to the old server members, asking them to drop by. Quackity, who hadn’t settled since he’d left the Dream SMP, had agreed almost immediately, and had been surprised to see most had done the same.

[ warnings: trauma, trauma responses, past torture + abuse, past death (temporary), emotional distress, past unhealthy relationships ]

[ a happy ending to the dream smp where the gang restart some years later on c!tommy’s server !! idk i just liked the idea a Lot: might make this a series with different characters, who knows :D ]

It had been strange seeing everyone again — Tommy is just as childish as he’d always been, but with a mellow, solemn streak that matches the streak of white in his hair, Tubbo and Ranboo’s kid is a teenager now, almost, and seeing Wilbur had brought up some odd uncomfortable feelings from the past. Strangest of all had been seeing Dream: they hadn’t spoken much in the months they’d been on the server, hadn’t spoken other than strained smiles and awkward hellos when they’d inevitably bumped into each other with Sapnap.

This is only the second time in nine months they’ve been alone together. The first had been worse: Quackity had gotten overwhelmed and Dream had shut down and they hadn’t spoken much since. This time is different: this time is different in that Tommy’s server is mellow and gentle in a way Dream’s server had started. They keep the peace better on this server than they ever had on Dream’s; talking about problems is their new communication.

So Quackity swallows his pride and fear when Dream looks at him (mask-less; it’s taken some getting used to) and asks his question again.

“Like— you know, for everything that happened… back then. With the prison, and the torture, and… everything.”

He doesn’t miss Dream’s wince, the jitter in his left leg, the way one of his eyes doesn’t fully close thanks to the vicious scar running through it. Something sad pools in his stomach.

“I don’t expect you to, at all, but I thought I’d ask. What with…” Quackity shifts, uncomfortable. “With the wedding come up, and— and all.”

The wedding. Finally, after years of running and hiding and talking and tears, he’s getting married to Karl and Sapnap. It’s a sweet thing, but it’s painful too — he wishes it could have happened sooner, wishes they hadn’t gone through so much pain beforehand, but he’s so happy they love him. He never stopped loving them.

He knows Dream is going to be best man at the wedding along with George — and knows this conversation needs to happen. So he waits with bated breath while Dream shifts where he’s sitting in the grass, fingers tensing round the grass stems and pulling a handful of them loose, before sighing.

“Yes,” Dream says, perhaps predictably, “yeah, I forgive you. I don’t— uhm, I don’t like holding grudges. I don’t like being angry anymore. I think I’ve used up all my anger.”

Quackity understands. Hope blooms like an overgrown flower in his heart.

“But I won’t forget.” Dream’s green eyes meet his own. They’re faded, dull moss instead of the bright jewel they used to be, and it makes something twist in his chest. “I won’t ever forget what you did. I forgive you, because I understand why you did it and because you’ve changed and because I hate being angry at people my friends love. But—”

Dream’s head ducks, and he takes a moment to steady his breathing.

“But I won’t ever forget what you did to me, for months on end. And I hope you don’t, either.”

Quackity doesn’t speak for a long minute. The sun is setting over them, bathing the whole hill in a tired golden light. Somehow, this is simultaneously worse and better than remaining unforgiven. “I understand,” he says, at last, “I don’t want to forget either. It, um— Remembering isn’t something I like, but I don’t want to forget, either, you know? I don’t want to— forget what I’m capable of when I’m scared and when I’m angry.”

Dream hums. “I know what you mean.” It doesn’t take a genius to know he’s thinking of his past years on the SMP. “I don’t know. History repeats when we forget. I don’t want— The same things aren’t going to happen on this sever. I won’t let it.”

“We won’t let it,” Quackity says, firmly, turning his eyes to the small white daisy blooming between where they both sit, “Tommy’s… He’s a good kid, you know? I feel like he’s learned from all our mistakes. And we’re all there to help. I don’t know. Things feel a lot more unified on this server than they did in Dream SMP.”

Dream snorts, eyes wistful. “Yeah. It’s like… a big happy family, here.”

“It’s what I wanted,” Quackity tells him, awkwardly, “back in your server. Somewhere I could belong. Somewhere… happy. Peaceful. Kind of spiralled away from that, but that was my plan.”

It surprises him when the ex-admin laughs. “It’s what I wanted too,” Dream says dryly, “it’s what we all wanted, I think. Or most of us, anyway. It’s dumb to think back on. If we’d all worked together, none of this needed to happen.”

Quackity runs a hand over the scar on his throat from Dream’s blade taking his second life, glances to Dream’s own neck, where two pale, tired scars remain from Tommy taking his first two lives. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, “for what it’s worth. I know it doesn’t begin to make up for everything. It never will. But I want you to know that I… am very sorry for it all.”

“I know.” Dream turns to him again, placid, knowing. “I’m not going to say it’s okay. But— I give you my blessing, marrying Sap.” He offers Quackity a hesitant, crooked smile. “Unless you break his heart.”

Quackity finds himself smiling too — brighter than he has done in a long time. “Gotcha,” he says, heart soaring, “I— Hah, yeah. I think everyone’s said this to me other than George.”

“George doesn’t need to say anything,” Dream says, mock-seriously, “if you break Sapnap’s heart, say goodbye to your third life. George isn’t going to waste time with threats. Pretty sure he’ll just instantly kill you.”

“Seems in character.” Quackity laughs. “Should I be worried about Bad giving me a similar fate?”

“Absolutely. But for what it’s worth, he gave Sapnap one about you, too.” Dream gets to his feet, stretches. “He cares about you a lot. He’d call you one of his best friends, probably.”

Quackity feels his heart warm. “Bad,” he says, affectionately, “he was the one who told me you’d be here. He’s a good guy.”

“The best.” Dream turns to face Quackity, and for a moment, it feels like a new start. “Look, I’m-” He hesitates. “Next month, a couple of us are thinking of heading back to the old server, to, uhm- Just for closure, sort of. None of us really got it, it was just kind of abandoned pretty abruptly, and- I wasn’t originally going to ask you, but I want you there.”

Mouth dry, Quackity swallows. “You want me there?” He checks. He doesn’t know if this is a step forward or a step back. “You’re sure?”

“Unless you don’t want to go.” Dream exhales nervously, rubbing his hands on his cargo pants. “Just thought- We could bring fireworks and everything. I mean, okay, maybe not fireworks-”

“-Probably not, considering we got nuked-”

“-And Tubbo, yeah, okay, no fireworks, but we could have cake? I don’t know. I just thought... It might help.”

“...Did you ever see Las Nevadas?” Quackity asks, when the pause between them stretches a little too thin. Dream shakes his head.

“Destroyed by the time I got a chance. Techno did that, right?”

“Right.” Quackity smiles, a little hollow, but the ache in his chest is dull now. He’ll never stop loving Las Nevadas and the passion he’d put into it, but it’s a different sort of love from the dependency he’d had on the country before. “I mean, as far as I remember, parts are still standing. I’d like to show you and everyone some parts. If we go back.”

“Might be nice,” Dream says, softly, “might be nice. I could- maybe- show my house, too. I don’t know. Don’t know if it’s still there.”

“You had a house?” Quackity asks, brow wrinkling. “I thought you were homeless.”

“Oh my fu-” Dream cuts himself off, groaning, and beginning to storm away dramatically. Quackity grins. “I’m not homeless! Why does everyone keep saying that?! I had a house, I just- It was hidden! That’s all!”

“Good luck showing us your imaginary house, Dream!” Someone - is that Techno? - calls back as Dream leaves, leaving Quackity at the top of the hill alone.

His chest feels tight. He hasn’t felt this emotional since he’d sat down and spoke things through with his fiances - fuck, Dream had been the last person he had to talk to. He’d spoke to Tubbo, to Wilbur, to his fiances and to Bad and to the old crew at Las Nevadas, to George. This is what forgiveness is supposed to feel like. But something still feels like it’s choking him.

Getting to his feet with a tired sigh, Quackity turns, looking out over the horizon. It’s beautiful, Tommy’s server - glowing with radiant sunset and glistening, the sea stretches out for miles in front of him, with land crawling leisurely into the far distance. Without thinking about it, he brings his hand to his throat, and with a single fluid motion, snaps the necklace round his neck.

He holds it up to the light. A poker chip from Las Nevadas as the charm, the necklace is one of the only things he has from the old server, one of the only things tethering him to the past. Quackity considers it for a long moment, debating his next move, before throwing it into the air, letting it fall into the sea deep below him. The waves swallow it whole, a dolphin leaps high into the sea foam, and the poker chip is gone.

He can breathe.

Quackity stays looking over the edges of the hill towards the sea until Karl calls him for dinner. To his surprise, Dream and George are sitting there along with Sapnap, eyes bright, merry. Sapnap looks delighted that they’re finally altogether - George glances towards Quackity warily when he enters, eyes flickering once between him and Dream.

Dream, looking up, senses the hostility immediately.

“Quackity,” he says, friendly, light, “we’re literally just about to have dinner. Sapnap just invited us there.”

“I mean, if you guys are okay with it.” Sapnap adds. None of them are stupid - they don’t know the full extent of what happened between Dream and Quackity back in prison, but they know it had been bad. “Like, you don’t have to stay, dude. Don’t-”

“Sapnap,” Dream chuckles, shuffling over on the couch to let Quackity sit on the edge nearest George, “I’m fine if Quackity’s fine with it. Are you?”

Quackity swallows. “Yeah,” he says, and he means it, “I’m- more than okay, yeah, no. I’d love to.”

Sapnap lights up, and Karl beams.

And things are okay.

Things are more than okay for the first time in a long time.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

“Are you here all night?” Jason asked, “or are you planning to, you know, be a human? I think those go home sometimes.”

High above Jason’s head, a swarm of bats entered the cave, winding among the stalactites and screeching a kind of garbled response.

Dick, however, said nothing. He remained bent over one of the long tables on the cavern floor, examining a map Jason could barely see from his own seat a short distance behind, ignoring Jason and his sarcasm both. 

Jason didn’t enjoy being ignored. 

Fine. 

“I have some tasks you could take over,” he suggested, in his least helpful voice, “if you’re in the market for an excuse to keep working. I know you make those sometimes.”

Nothing.

“I have some weapons to clean, if you want to do that. You could type out all my old cases, if that works, because I only have the originals and those are hard to work with.”

Still nothing.

“Take out the trash?” Jason tried. “Wash the dishes? I put a load of laundry in a couple of hours ago, but there’s a wool jacket in the mix, so be careful what you put in the dryer.”

Dick didn’t move. Jason was enjoying himself now.

“Write a sonnet? Map the White House?” Jason held up a finger Dick couldn’t see, like he had just remembered something interesting. “I think there’s a library on 8th that exploded a few days back, so if you could just grab the rubble from the street and rebuild it by hand, that would be great.”

No reaction. 

“Whatever,” said Jason, “I’m out of here. Get some sleep maybe? I know the whole work-to-outrun-despair routine is your ‘thing,’ or whatever, but it never looks good on you. Have you considered—”

Jason cut himself off as Dick finally turned away from the table. Looking him in the eye, Jason felt suddenly and inexplicably afraid. 

“Go on,” said Dick, quietly.

“I’m just… saying that it might make things worse, to shut off and—” Jason pointed at the mound of paper on the table, “obsess over this stuff instead.”

“You think?” Dick asked. “No shit.”

Jason blinked. “Wait, are you—”

“Did you think it never occurred to me,” said Dick, “that I might be spinning out?”

“I didn’t say you were spinning out.”

“Were you thinking that maybe,” Dick leaned back against the table edge and crossed his arms, carefully casual in a way Jason didn’t like, “hey maybe I, Dick Grayson, haven’t noticed how it feels to be forty-nine hours into a case and puking in the bathroom sink?”

“I didn’t—”

“Maybe I just haven’t realized why my vision blurs out and I can’t think straight, and it’s weird how this happens—” Dick held up a hand, and Jason could see his fingers shaking, “—if I keep going for too long.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Wow, yeah, now that you mention it, this might be,” Dick said, flatly, “bad.” 

Jason glanced down at his boots to break the eye contact. “I’ll back off,” he said. “I’ll go.”

“It might be bad that I can’t sleep until I’m falling-over exhausted. Maybe I shouldn’t be taking all these cases—”

“I said I’ll back off.”

“Or writing all these notes or spending weeks on research, more than that on training—”

“Listen—”

“I probably shouldn’t be leading all these teams, huh?” Dick smiled in a way that reminded Jason of what he should have remembered before he opened his own mouth: that Dick could be very, very dangerous. “Can I get your opinion on that?”

“I’ll—”

“I KNOW!”

Jason stumbled back a step in shock. 

“I KNOW that I’m working too hard!” Dick yelled, “And I KNOW why I do it!”

“Okay!” Jason backed away again. “Okay, I get it!”

“I work so I don’t have to think! I’d rather drop dead doing this shit than stop for the millisecond it would take to feel again! Are you happy now?”

“Calm down, okay? I didn’t—”

“I don’t want to feel,” said Dick, gesturing around him, “so I’m going to stand right here over and over again.”

“Fine!”

“And I’m going to keep shutting down because it goddamn WORKS!”

Dick turned away again, bending over the table like he hadn’t said anything at all. Jason stood frozen for a moment, staring. 

“Does it?” he asked into the silence.

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Do you have something better?”

Jason looked down at his own hands and saw that they were shaking too.

“No,” he said.

“Then fuck off.”

Jason turned to leave, but Dick, it appeared, wasn’t ready to let it go. 

“I’m alive,” he said. “I’m standing and walking and doing all the things that matter.”

“Yeah.” 

“I’ve had enough of— enough of asking for help and getting—” Dick jerked an arm above his head, still turned away. “I don’t want to hear that the way I live is self-destructive. I already know. That’s why I’m here, that’s what I’m saying, that’s why I’m trying.” 

“Yeah.”

“Just… show me something better, or let me self-destruct.”

Jason fumbled awkwardly for something to say. “I’m sure— I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but whoever that is— I’m sure they’re… trying to help.”

“You weren’t,” said Dick.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You were trying to land a cheap shot,” said Dick, “and feel like you’re better than me.”

Yes, that was true. Jason wasn’t sorry, exactly, but he regretted it, and those were different things.  

“I guess that makes me an asshole.”

“And a hypocrite.” Dick turned around again and leaned back in the same way, quiet, in control. “You never stop either… not since the pit anyway.”

“Don’t.”

“I mean it’s different, obviously, because I don’t think you’re trying to hide it. Me, I don’t want cracks to show. I don’t want all this grief and anger and— you said despair, right?”

“Stop.”

“I don’t want the despair to show because I want to look whole, but you—”

“You’ve made your point.”

“You want to look like a week-old corpse rotting on the concrete, and may I say?” Dick smiled. “Excellent performance. You look exactly like that.”

Jason didn’t say anything.

“It’s a world of difference,” Dick continued, “because I— I’m pushing through pain… and you’re pushing to feel it.”

For a moment, they stared at each other, and Jason found that it was difficult to breathe. 

“I could yell back for that,” he said. It came out softly, more soft than he meant, as Jason shoved away something very close to shame.

“Do it.”

“No. I think it’s funny when people call me the angry one.” Jason looked down at his shaking hands again. 

“I am angry,” he conceded, “but you’re just as bad as I am.”

“Thematic,” Dick snapped. “Get out.” 

“No. You opened this book, so we’re going to read it. You’re right.”

“Leave.”

“You’re right, I do exactly what you just said I do. Sometimes I don’t sleep for days, and it’s not because I can’t.”

Well, that might not be fully true, so Jason stopped to backtrack.

“I mean,” he corrected, “I don’t know if I could sleep, if I really tried, but that’s the point I’m making. I don’t try. I don’t want to sleep.”

“I said leave.”

“It’ll be four in the morning and I’m slumped sideways on my couch watching surveillance footage I don’t need to watch, because I know when I finally drag myself to the bathroom mirror, I’ll look like hell—”

“Get out!”

“—and I want to! I feel like hell, I feel like goddamn Brutus in the Devil’s jaws, and I want to look like it. If I look like death, that means my pain is real.”

“Get out or regret it.”

“Oh, I know it’s self-destructive,” said Jason, smiling his best unnerving smile. “How could I miss it when I’m blacking out in stairwells and picking fights on purpose, just to get kicked around?”

That particular sentence, it appeared, caught Dick’s attention, because he stayed quiet this time, glaring from across the room.

Well then, Jason decided, it was time to push further. 

“Let’s get personal, shall we? Why do I live in this fucking city to see you or him or whoever else is living in the capes this week? I’m not shooting for reconciliation!”

“Well?”

“I’m going to stay here and cause problems until every single one of you hates me enough to shove me away. How’s my performance, by the way? Is it working? I’d love to get your opinion.”

Dick made a face that Jason couldn’t interpret, so Jason chose to press on. 

“It’ll hurt when I pull that off because I do actually care about you, but you know what? I’ll like that. Maybe someday all of this will kill me, and I’ll kind of like that too.” 

Jason paused a beat to let Dick interject, but Dick didn’t. 

“Your turn,” said Jason pleasantly. “Thoughts?”

Nothing.

“I like the aesthetic of self-destruction,” said Jason. “I’m going to look in the mirror tomorrow and see dark circles and scars, and it’s going to feel like being myself in a way that nothing else does.”

In that moment, watching Dick glare, Jason felt very tired— not in a way that sleep could solve, and not in a way that anyone could fix. No matter what Jason did, no matter what he tried, he could always feel himself sinking. He was empty and heavy at the same time, somehow trapped in place, unable to do anything except lie in his own blood.

A rotting corpse indeed.

“I’m not judging you,” said Jason. “I don’t have the space for that. I won’t tell you to just… change. I’m sick of hearing that too, hearing that I don’t have to do this to myself, that I am doing this to myself.”

Dick nodded. Jason wasn’t sure at what, but it felt like permission to keep going, so he did.

“I know I’m holding on to something I shouldn’t,” Jason admitted, even though it hurt to say out loud. “I know, but I can’t let go when there’s nothing else to take. I don’t have anything profound to say. I don’t… know what else there is.”

That was it. That was all Jason had, so he shrugged and stared down at the floor, waiting.

“I think if I stop working I’ll fall apart,” said Dick, finally, “and this time I won’t be able to scrape myself together.”

“Yeah.”

“I think fine, so I don’t have to keep going. I don’t have to shove away the dark and force myself through, but what would happen if I didn’t?”

“I don’t know.”

“I would be a shivering, hollow shape on my floor, maybe forever. I don’t know what I want to be, but I can’t be… I can’t be only that.” 

Jason understood.

“It’s hard,” said Dick. “I always hear— and say, I say this to other people— that things can be okay. I guess it’s true, but does it matter?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Unless I leave the cave right now and never come back, this is my life. I have an apartment and a fucked-up family—”

“Thanks.”

“—and I spend every night jumping through smog and the ghosts of everything I’ve ever done.”

“Saving people,” Jason noted.

“Win some,” said Dick, “lose some. How many times have you watched a person die?”

“A few.”

“A few.” Dick shook his head. “I know too much, but I have too much to leave behind.”

“I have a guy who makes passports on demand, if you change your mind,” said Jason. “He’s amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“Prints while you wait.”

Dick shot Jason a flat kind of look.

“What?” Jason asked. “It would simplify my plans.”

Dick half-smiled at that, and Jason got the sense that they were done yelling, maybe, for awhile.

“I feel trapped, and I don’t know how to fix myself,” said Dick, “while I’m still… here.” 

“Yeah.”

“I’m just trying to stay alive.”

“I know. Me too.”

“It isn’t getting any easier.” 

Jason thought about that for awhile. It would be nice to have an answer— something simple to say, some match to light in their common ground— but Jason couldn’t find one, so he shrugged again and hoped that understanding would be enough. 

It had to be something, didn’t it?

It was the best he could do. There were times, Jason figured, to talk about breathing exercises and the mess of self-help books piled on his dresser, but he knew this wasn’t one of them. They could call it catharsis, he decided, and leave it at that. 

“We could say it’s Bruce’s fault?” Jason suggested, since he was out of other ideas. “I like blaming Bruce for the shit I do.”

“You do?”

“Fuck off.”

Dick smiled fully at that one. “I’m not above it either.”

“Great,” said Jason. “Can I leave a note saying we blame him? No context at all, maybe on a single post-it? I think it would be really funny.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll bounce after that, for real this time.” Jason spun a finger in a circle a few times, pointing around the cave. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Yeah.” Dick tapped a finger against the table a few times, like he was thinking. After a moment, he pulled a bag from the edge and started packing up his things. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, me too.”

Fin.

---

art by @doc-squash​

[dudeandduchess]

Chef Kyo meeting wifey for the first time scenario? 🥺🥺🥺 Thank you.

Hope you like it, bby! ❤️‍🔥

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Unexpectedly (Fluff, Modern!AU, Chef!AU, SFW Scenario)

Warning: Knife talk, talks about scars (from work)

***

Excitement thrummed through every inch of (Y/n)’s body that she was practically skipping through Kappabashi; she didn’t even care that it was a little too humid for her taste, or that it was way too early for her— with it being nine in the morning.

For someone who always had dinner shifts ever since she started working as a pastry chef, she could only take it as a compliment— as only the ones who can keep up with the constant rush were put there. Still, it took its toll on her body, which especially showed during her days off.

Not that day though, since she had been waiting for it ever since two months ago; when she had first laid eyes on the pretty santoku knife that had caught her heart.

It was the prettiest knife made with Damascus steel, with the magnificent ripples on the blade, as well as a really feminine touch what with it having been engraved with tiny sakura flowers.

So, she had saved up to get it. And it was finally time to get her beloved almost knife.

However, her happy musings were put to an absolute standstill when she reached the shop’s façade and saw the shopkeeper about to take her knife out of the display case.

“No, wait!” The young woman gasped out, almost tripping over the welcome mat in her haste to get to the shopkeeper. “I- I’m getting that knife!”

The bespectacled man looked a little confused at her, before glancing over his shoulder; right over to a blond and extremely attractive man.

Everything about that man screamed enigmatic, and it took (Y/n) a couple of seconds to proverbially pick her jaw up from the ground.

He was just that handsome. Especially when he shot her a heart stopping grin. “Is anything the matter, miss?”

If (Y/n) thought that she was speechless before, then she was absolutely floored at that moment. She couldn’t even form a coherent thought, while her eyes flickered from the blond’s arresting gaze, then down to his plump and oh-so kissable lips.

“No,” The young woman managed to squeak out, all while feeling her shoulders begin to sag as the disappointment set in. She really had her heart set on that particular knife, only to have it bought by someone else in the end. “It’s fine.”

“Oh! You were that lady that my grandfather was talking about… the one who kept coming back here to look at this,” The shopkeeper interjected, flashing (Y/n) a sheepish smile, before awkwardly raising the santoku in his hands.

Reluctantly, (Y/n) nodded, forcing herself to smile and feeling her cheek muscles twitch with the stiffness of it. “Looks like I’ve missed it. It’s fine, I’m sure that she’ll be taken care of.”

All the while, Kyōjurō couldn’t take his eyes off of the breathtaking woman just a few feet away from him. She wore such cute clothes that it wasn’t fair at all just how attracted he was to her, but what really snatched his attention up were the telltale scars on the backs of her hands.

They looked pretty similar to the ones on the backs of his own hands. And when she lifted her right hand up to wave off something that the shopkeeper had said, he couldn’t hold back the soft smile that tugged up at the corners of his lips.

“Do you work in the kitchen?” The question had (Y/n) turning her full attention back to the blond man— instead of the knife that she had come for in the first place.

She was confused at first as to how the stranger knew that, until she saw where he had motioned to and found the burn stripe that she’d gotten from pulling the cherry tarte tatin  from the oven two days ago. “Oh, uh, yes. I’m a pastry chef at Sucré. You work in a kitchen too?”

Slowly, the awkwardness that hung in the air from before started clearing out, and what remained was a mellowed-out atmosphere that lulled both the blond stranger as well as (Y/n). In a way, their occupations were bridging a common bond between them that reduced the sting to (Y/n) losing her knife.

“Yeah, I’m the sous chef at Ishikawa. Rengoku Kyōjurō.” Instead of bowing down politely like any other person, Kyōjurō decided to offer his hand out to (Y/n)— which surprised her, in all the best ways.

Gingerly though, she lifted her right hand and took Kyōjurō’s proffered hand. And, as if by some unknown force, a blush began to spread across her cheeks— just from how warm and comfortable her hand felt against his.

Little did she know that Kyōjurō’s heart was racing in his chest, while he tried to bite back a grin at how cute she looked being so flustered.

“I have a proposition for you…” The young man offered with a smile, still not letting go of (Y/n)’s hand as he continued, “You can have the knife, if you go out on a date with me.”

And the rest, as they say, is history.

[bestiesenpai]

Spoiled Rotten - Toji Fushiguro

Half baked gangster/shady business dealer toji fushiguro idea...hope ya like it lol. Femme reader, 3k words

Content warningsss: a lot a lot of the word daddy lol, drinking, biting, drug usage(cocaine to be specific)

“There’s my little minx.” It’s his deep, smoky voice that you hear first when you open your door one late Friday night, dripping in an expensive borderline too short silk dress. A cropped white fur coat is your only protection against the crisp night air, the rest of your body - bare legs, open chest and feet clad in high heels - is exposed.

“Hey daddy.” You purr, sliding into his waiting arms. The scent of Toji’s cologne engulfs you, the warmth from his own thick fur coat surrounding you as he kisses the top of your head.

“See you got the purse I sent.” He pulls away slightly, thumbing the chain of the purse he had sent over this morning.

“Mhmm, I love it. Exactly my style.” Beaming up at him, you giggled as he slid an arm low around your waist.

“Daddy knows his girl well.” His hand dips down to squeeze your ass and then he’s closing your door, nudging you to the chauffeured blacked out SUV waiting on the street. “Now let's get going.”

As soon as you’re in the car, you’re seated in Toji’s lap, his thick legs spread out to support you. He keeps a hand on your back to keep you steady as the car rocks, and the other hand is high on your thigh, thumbing the hem of the dress just barely covering you.

“You look so fucking sexy.” Gripping your thigh, Toji lets out a low groan. “Gonna be the prettiest girl in that whole place.”

“Thank you daddy.” You press a few kisses to his jaw, lightly staining his skin with your lipstick.

“I got you a gift, I want you to wear it tonight.” Leaning over, he flips a compartment open in the center console and pulls out a velvet box. Curiously, you take it and unwrap it quickly.

“Oh wow!” Inside the box is a drop pearl necklace, delicate gold chain weighed down by a single pearl and then a slightly smaller one above it.

“Lemme put it on for you.” Shrugging your jacket down your shoulders, you sit as still as possible as Toji places the necklace on you. The pearl dips down your chest, nestling right at the curve of your breasts. “What a fucking treasure.” His fingers skim along the edges of the necklace, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You kiss him as a thank you, the scar on the edge of his lip a familiar sensation. He smiles into the kiss, hand coming up to grab your chin softly and open your mouth. Sliding his tongue past your teeth, you let out a squeak as the car comes to a full stop.

“We’re here, sir.” The chauffeur announces, knowing better than to say anything else or to look at Toji without permission.

“Let’s go doll.” Sliding you off his lap, Toji opens the door and helps you out. There’s a gust of wind that whips as you step out, almost making you jump back into the car. Pulling you closer to him, Toji doesn’t let you escape that easily.

“This the new club you opened?” Fixing your gaze on the bright, warm flashing light bulbs in front of you, you do your best to ignore the cold. It looks like something straight out of a movie: overly buff doormen, a long line of people dressed to the nines hoping to get in before the club closes. There’s VIP guests mingling outside, some smoking cigarettes while some are clearly high.

“Boss.” One of the bouncers nods and lets the two of you in without question. Immediately you’re thrust into the hustling club, scantily clad waitresses passing by with trays of drinks for wealthy clients sitting at semi-circular tables along the wall. Red velvet lines every seat and gold accents drip from the ceilings.

There’s a dance floor in the middle of the club, crowded with people trying to have a good time. Toji always knew how to throw a party, a star DJ headlining the opening night. All it takes is a nod to a member of his security team and you’ve got a strongly mixed drink in your hand, the fruity pink color doing nothing to hide the hard bite of alcohol.

“Whaddya think?” Toji asks over the music, taking your jacket off your shoulders and handing it to someone along with his own coat. With the garment now off you can see his physique more clearly in a crisp fitted black button up and slacks, the tight shirt highlighting his muscles perfectly.

“It’s great!”

“There’s more floors, follow me.” To the side of the room is a stairway tucked away he leads you to, a few people mingling along the steps. The sound of the pumping bass fades away and the atmosphere shifts.

Coming upon the second floor, you’re greeted by a room full of card games. Poker, blackjack and roulette tables were full of people playing, mountains of chips just waiting to be bet.

“I thought you weren’t allowed to open a casino?” His proposition to open this part of the club had been rejected last you’d heard.

“Yeah well the mayor owes me a few favors.” Patting your shoulder, Toij flicks his chin out to the room. “Wanna play a game, baby?”

“Okay!” Flitting away to a blackjack table, you could feel the eyes following you, sizing you up first and then landing Toji. There were several people here that would love to take you home, you could feel it in the way they eyed your legs and bare shoulders and it made a satisfied smirk worm its way onto your face, putting a bit more obvious sway in your hips as you walked.

“Putting on a show I see.” Toji chuckled as he sat down at an open table, immediately pulling you onto his lap. Waving his hand, a stack of chips are brought to the table and put in front of him, and another drink is brought for you.

You played the game of blackjack marginally well, not particularly caring if you won or lost. It was all Toji’s money after all, he would win it back and then some by the end of the night. There was no need to worry about playing smart, all you had to do was have fun.

“Shit, lost again.” You huffed, seeing the last of your chips taken away.

“Let’s play some poker, some friends of mine just walked in.” Getting up and moving tables, you greeted the friends Toji was talking about. They were people you’d seen before, and you could make decent conversation with them, but when you were seated at the poker table there wasn’t space to talk.

Toji kept you snuggly in his lap, one hand cupping just under your ass every time you moved and kissing the top of your head as you snuggled into his shoulder. Following along with the cards, you helped him play, earning back a few chips and slightly redeeming yourself from blackjack.

“Daddy, I wanna go dance.” You whispered in Toji’s ear forty-five minutes later, getting antsy and bored.

“Go have fun baby, I’ll catch up in a few.” Sliding you off his lap, Toji kissed your hand and sent you on your way. There was a security guard trailing you, one he’d hired to be with you whenever the two of you went out.

“Can you get me a drink? Just the same one I’ve been having will do!” Patting the burly man on the shoulder, you grinned widely as he nodded and left to the bar. You didn’t have to wait long for him to come back, handing you the drink silently.

Downing it quickly, you hopped onto the packed dance floor. The bass vibrated strongly from the floor up your legs, making your feet go numb the longer you danced. You tried to keep an eye out for Toji, see when he came downstairs so you could drag him onto the floor, but he took far too long to keep your interest.

Dancing with multiple different people, you paid no mind to the hands that glided along the small of your back or across your arms. It all added to the experience of the club, the music drowning out any attempts at conversation.

The ache in your feet couldn’t be ignored any longer now. A good number of songs had passed and you were tired. Not bothering to look for Toji, you sauntered over to the bar, the security guard snagging you an empty seat with ease.

Downing a glass of water and ordering another drink, you spun around in the bar stool and scanned the club. It was packed with even more people and as the front doors swung open you could see the line to get in was still as packed as ever.

“Hey, how’s it going?” A voice cut into the little bubble you’d made for yourself, a flash of white streaking across the corner of your vision.

“Hm?” Turning to face whoever had just sat down, you were face to face with a lanky man with wild white hair, black sunglasses low on his nose to reveal sharp blue eyes.

“I saw you dancing earlier, you looked really sexy.”

“Thanks.” You were unimpressed and he could tell by your tone. Crossing your legs, you turned fully back to the bar and swirled your drink, the scent of alcohol wafting up to your nose as you took a sip. The stranger’s eyes roamed all over you, drinking in the expanse of slightly sweaty skin before him.

“I’m Gojo.” He stuck a hand out, flashing you a grin as he waited for you to shake it.

“(Y/N).” Grabbing his hand with your thumb and forefinger, you shook it. You weren’t really interested in the man, but after taking another look over your shoulder and not seeing Toji, you shrugged slightly. No harm in entertaining yourself for a bit.

“Such a pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Thanks.” The cheesy line made you snort, a smile spreading on your cheeks despite yourself.

“Even prettier when you smile.”

“You really are a charmer, huh?” Leaning your head on your fist, you sized him up. He wasn’t particularly well dressed, just good enough to get in.

“Depends, is it working?”

“Depends. Buy me a drink?”

You end up making conversation with Gojo far longer than anticipated, somehow getting wrapped up in a story he’s telling that sounds too good to be true. He’d bought you two more drinks and you were certainly feeling the effects.

You were leaning far too close to him, nearly sliding off your own stool as your legs tangled with his. Your chest had dipped forward, the necklace dangling off your neck and the neckline of your dress plunging lower. A hand was now resting on his forearm, gripping it tighter as you laughed at something stupid he said.

“You’re so stupid!” You’re laughing far too loudly but you’re too tipsy to care. Toji’s prolonged absence had irked you enough that you didn’t care who saw you cozying up to this new guy; you wished someone had the nerve to say something to you, or better yet go right to him and tell him that his little minx had her eyes on a new prize.

“I’m tellin’ ya it’s the truth!” Gojo laughs right back, stretching out his long arms and putting one around the side of your seat, caging you in even more. Giggling at the absurdity of what he just said, your gaze snakes out across the club, out past the intimate little space you’re in.

Toji is sitting right at a VIP table a few feet away, his jaw cocked to the side and a pissed off look in his eyes. When you make eye contact, you giggle again and blow him a kiss, turning back to Gojo and putting a hand high on his shoulder, nearly wrapping it around his neck as you laugh extra loud in spite.

“How’s the liquor treating you, baby?” Gojo asks, rubbing a hand up and down your arm. The sound of his voice calling you that name doesn’t hit the same as with Toji, but you let it slide.

“Just fine.” You croon, fixing Gojo with your best smile and making his already pink cheeks flush a little deeper. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Toji sit up a little straighter and his sleeves have been pushed up to his elbows, baring his flexed forearms.

Looking directly at Toji, your fingers slid up the back of Gojos neck, finding the hair at his nape and twirling it between your fingers. Scraping your nails lightly against his neck, you’re not listening at all to what he’s saying now. An excited ripple runs through you, settling in your stomach as Toji stands up.

“Alright, funs over.” He huffs, yanking your hand off Gojo and pushing him away from you.

“What the fuck!” Gojo shouts, clearly startled by the sudden intrusion.

“Look who decided to show up.” You quip, pulling your hand from his grasp and waving over the bartender. “I’ll have another, thanks.”

“Get lost pal.” Gojo attempts to push Toji away but the man doesn’t budge. He tries to grab your wrist again but Gojo stops him, grabbing onto his arm tightly. “Hey, don’t touch-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Toji grunts, glaring harshly at Gojo. “Don’t get involved with shit you don’t know about.” You have to bite back a giggle behind your drink as Gojos mouth hangs open slightly. Grabbing your shoulder, Toji gets you to turn halfway to him. “You’ve had your fun, lets go.”

“Mmmm…” Tapping your chin, you pretend to think it over. “No thanks.” You can practically see his blood boiling, even more so when you put a hand on Gojo’s knee.

“You really want to play this game, baby?” Cocking his head to the side, Toji fixes you with an intense look. He’s pissed at how flirtatious you’ve been, but you know he loves it - otherwise there wouldn’t be the slight uptick to his mouth.

You get to take one sip from your drink before it’s taken out of your hand and you’re pulled from the bar stool. Toji has a tight grip on your wrist, almost enough to hurt as he drags you away from the bar.

Pulling you back up the stairs, he takes you to a side hallway and into a room tucked away, quickly locking the door behind him.

“Just can’t fucking help yourself, huh?” Toji barks when the door closes, pushing you into the room. It’s a decent sized office with two small plush couches facing each other, an opulent circular coffee table in the middle.

“I was bored, you took too long.” Pouting on one of the couches, you cross your arms under your breasts and push them up, looking away dramatically as Toji sits down next to you with his legs spread wide.

“S’not my fault, baby. Daddy had to take care of some business.” Throwing an arm over the back of the couch, he tugged you closer. “I’m all yours now.”

“Hm.” Still not done with your act, you kept your body turned away from him.

“You really gonna act like a brat right now?” He hums, curling his fingers around your upper arm. “I’d hate to smear that pretty makeup when I start spanking you.” As he speaks, he hauls you over his body, seating your ass right in his lap and giving your thigh a harsh spank. “But maybe you’d like that, huh?”

“Daddy!” Throwing your head back against his shoulder, you whine loudly, rubbing your ass into him. “You promised not to do that anymore!”

“Yeah and you promised to be a good girl.” Tilting his head to the side, Toji smirked at you. “Seems you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, quickly moving to straddle his lap. Spreading your legs wide, your dress rides up, revealing the special thong you’d worn to go with this dress. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you give Toji a quick peck.

He chuckles against your lips, hands sliding down your back to grab your ass firmly, holding you tightly against him. His fingers dig into your flesh, grazing the fabric of the thong and hooking it under his fingers.

“You know I love it when you wear this.” Toji hums, toying with the fabric. You giggle coyly, kissing his jaw and wiggling your hips in his hands. A low growl comes from his chest as Toji descends onto you, latching his lips onto your neck and kissing you roughly.

“Daddy!” Your fingers tug at his hair as his teeth sink into your neck. You moan loudly, tugging his hair again when he smacks your ass.

“Fucking brat.” He snarls, licking the teeth marks he’d left in you and smacking you again. “Love to get me all riled up huh?” Grinding you on his lap, Toji trails kisses up your neck and behind your ear.

Moaning in his ear, you nod drunkenly. Your fingers fumble to grab the collar of his shirt and unbutton it, eager to feel his skin underneath. Just as you get one button undone, Toji snatches your hands away.

“Who said you get to touch me?”

“Please, daddy.” You pout, trying in vain to get your hands free. “Wanna feel you so bad.”

“What about that chump at the bar? You seemed pretty happy touching him.”

“No, I don’t want him, I want you!” Bouncing on his lap, the alcohol was clouding your senses, making you way more desperate way faster than normal. “Just wanted you to pay attention to me.”

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” Toji chuckles, letting your hands go and helping you unbutton his shirt. Pushing his shirt off his shoulders, your hands greedily felt up his body, diving down to give a few kisses to his neck and chest.

“Love you daddy.” Your words are slurred, fingers already dipping down to his lower stomach.

“Fuck yeah you do.” He shivered, pushing you away slightly and digging in his pocket. “Bet you’ll love me even more with this.” In his fingers is a small baggie of white powder that you’re all too familiar with. Dipping his finger into it, Toji holds it under your nose and you sniff it up obediently.

“Thank you daddy.” As the drug begins to take effect, you smile stupid at Toji, dragging your nail across the edge of his lip and along his scar.

“Don’t ever say your daddy ain’t spoiling you rotten.” Taking a hit for himself, Toji throws his head and back and grunts, rocking you in his lap. “Completely fucking rotten.”

[fruitcoops]

Hopefully I can slip something in before the time is up. Don't feel the need to rush anything your writing is amazing and I will be excited for it no matter when it comes! I would really like to see a fic where Remus get's sick/hurt or just overall run down because he has been trying so hard to catch up to the rest of the team after he finds out he is going to be playing with them. Thank you!

So the discord discussed this briefly a while ago, but it’s been on my mind ever since. Stretch marks are often overlooked or hidden from workout regimens, even though they’re super common and the majority of people have them; for Remus, who spends basically the whole summer getting strong, it is very likely that he would get some. All the stretch mark love!!

SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for some negative self-talk

So Sirius’ heart was breaking a little bit.

That was fine. Everything was fine. It was just that his fiancé didn’t love him anymore.

Okay, that might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but it wasn’t like he was lacking in time to overthink things over the past week and a half. It had been nine days and about six hours since he was last allowed to hug Remus without him shying away with a stumbling excuse, and even longer since Remus had changed clothes outside of their bathroom after locking the door behind him.

Speaking of, he hadn’t worn anything other than jeans with his too-big shirts tucked in, which seemed like a pretty terrible idea in the dead of summer. He looked cute as hell—of course he did, it was Remus—but Sirius had noticed the almost-constant red flush on his face. He hadn’t had a chance to see those glorious freckles, either, which was a true tragedy.

So, yeah, Sirius’ heart was breaking. More than a little bit, actually.

“Are you okay?” he asked while they laid in bed together, ankles intertwined. Remus had been so, so careful not to get too close during the night and it was driving Sirius a bit out of his mind. Even Pots had noticed, pulling him in for a tight hug because “you looked like you needed it”. Damn him and his observation skills, Sirius thought.

Remus sighed. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Are you too hot?” Sirius ventured. It was summertime, after all, and Remus was terrible about regulating his temperature.

“No, I’m good.”

“Do I smell weird?”

Remus rolled onto his side. “What?”

“I mean—” Sirius sniffed his arm. It seemed normal to him. “Do I smell weird to you?”

“…no?”

“Because I run warm, so if I was sweating all over you—”

“What are you talking about?” Remus asked, looking honestly bewildered.

Sirius felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. “It’s just…you haven’t been cuddling me recently. Or hugging me. Or letting me touch you at all, actually. And—and I was worried that I upset you.”

“Oh.” Remus’ voice was soft, and his eyes went huge and sad, like melty caramel. “No, baby, you didn’t do anything.”

“Okay.” Sirius wasn’t quite sure he believed him. “Um, while we’re on the subject: when did you start wearing shirts to bed? And flannel pajamas in July?”

Remus’ ears turned vibrant pink and he cleared his throat, glancing away. It wasn’t the cute, sexy blush, either—he looked downright humiliated. “It’s nothing, I was just a little cold,” he muttered at last, turning back over and tucking his chin down.

After a second’s hesitation, Sirius trailed his hand down the bumps of his spine; he was still all angles despite the many pounds of corded muscle he had put on over the summer training sessions. “Is this alright?”

“Yeah.” He sounded a little choked up and Sirius’ worry worsened.

“What’s going on, Re?” he asked, still running his fingers over the broad expanse of his back. Remus mumbled something. “Can you say that again?”

There was a puff of air. “I don’t want you to see them.”

“See what?”

The side of Remus’ jaw in Sirius’ eyeline ticked. “I didn’t know it would happen.”

“You lost me, sweetheart.”

Remus settled onto his back, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. He chewed his lip for a moment before exhaling sharply. “Fuck it.”

He sat up and tugged his shirt over his head, then shimmied his pants down his thighs. He was still wearing underwear, which was a little weird in Sirius’ mind. Remus crossed his arms over his chest and stared holes into the opposite wall as Sirius scanned him for any injuries, bandages, or surprise tattoos. “…I don’t see anything.”

“Don’t—” Remus broke off and closed his eyes. “Please don’t sugarcoat it.”

Sirius sat up as well, still searching for what in the goddamn hell his fiancé was talking about. “Re, I genuinely have no idea what I’m supposed to be seeing.”

“Here.” Remus pointed behind his shoulder blades. “And here.” He moved his arms to show his hip and waist. “And here.” It took a moment, but he stretched his leg out so his inner thigh was exposed.

Sirius tore his eyes away from the smattering of freckles all over him—fuck yeah, finally—and followed the lines in shades of pink, lavender, and reddish brown that shone in the moonlight through their windows. “So you’re upset about your stretch marks?”

Remus nodded miserably. “I didn’t realize they’d be this bad.”

“Did you—” Sirius made a timeout motion with his hands. “Re, did you think I wouldn’t want to cuddle you because of these?”

His mouth twisted and he wrapped his arms around his waist again. “It sounds stupid when you say it like that. Sorry.”

“Sweetheart.” Sirius scooted closer and pressed their shoulders together; almost instantly, Remus leaned into him. “Everybody on the team has stretch marks. I have stretch marks. That’s what happens when there’s a lot of muscle gain.”

“They’re not as bad as mine, though.”

Sirius tugged the edge of his shorts up to show his inner thigh, where light silver lines still crisscrossed his skin. “They fade over time, but I’ve had these since I was nineteen.”

“Yours look pretty.”

“So do yours.”

Remus’ hold on himself tightened, and his fingers twitched down to trace the wobbly edges of the marks. “I knew you wouldn’t be upset, but…but I’m already kind of wonky-looking and I thought this would just make it worse, and I have been trying so hard to catch up that this happened and it’s just—it fucking sucks, Sirius. I’m itchy and stretchy and they’re permanent.”

“Can I touch you?” As soon as Remus nodded, Sirius hauled him into his lap and hugged him tight. “I don’t know who told you that you’re wonky-looking, but it’s not true. You are the handsomest man I’ve ever seen in my entire life and those stretch marks just show how strong you are now. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you know they’re as beautiful as the rest of you.”

Remus was quiet for a moment. “You always say I’m pretty, but I don’t feel pretty. It’s like piling more scars on. Nobody looks at scars and goes ‘oh, yeah, that’s sexy’.”

“I do.”

“You look at my freckles and think they’re sexy.”

“I look at you and I think you’re sexy,” Sirius said firmly into the back of his shoulder, planting a kiss to the side of his neck. “And for the record, I’ve always thought your scars are hot as fuck.”

That drew a laugh from him. “Thanks, love.”

“Can we cuddle now? And will you stop wearing jeans when it’s ninety degrees outside?”

In lieu of a response, Remus pushed him back down onto the bed and wrapped all four limbs around him with a contented hum. “I missed this the most,” he said into the side of Sirius’ chest.

“Me, too,” Sirius murmured back, kissing his head and snuggling closer despite the heat. Under his palms, the stretch marks formed all kinds of patterns, and he decided to map every single one with his fingertips. Remus fell asleep after three; Sirius dozed off halfway through the sixth.

[whump-town]

Stubborn

Everybody taking care of old Hotch because... I don't like it when old Hotch gets left to just die on his own :( don't ask why that's where I draw the line

No pairings

No warnings

In Jack’s second semester of his junior year, Hotch collapses again. He’s home this time, out in his garden under the glaring sun. The day had begun no different than any other. The birds on the powerline chirping and causing their disturbances, as eager for the day to begin as the school-aged children shouting in the street. He’d watched them from the sliding glass door facing the street, his tea warm in his hands. He’d waved at a few, the older ones who recognize him as a mystifying adult with stories to be unlocked. The younger children give him a face akin to a monster’s, his mystery horrifying in their already confusing enough lives.

It’s an hour before lunch. Two hours before Spencer shows up because it’s Thursday and he teaches a class on this side of town every Tuesday and Thursday at 2. One that he occasionally asks Hotch to attend -- as a guest lecturer, as a treat to his students, or just for the company.

He could call just about anyone.

Emily’s downtown, on her way back from a meeting with the Department of Justice. She’d be thrilled for an excuse to not go back to the office and spend an hour or two in his kitchen telling him about those pretentious assholes.

Garcia’s about ten minutes away, working at a nonprofit teaching “at-risk” kids how to code. Being the guiding hand she’d needed as a teenager so that they might not repeat the same mistakes she made. She was lucky, Hotch saved her but he’s not around to catch any more kids like her.

Morgan got hired by a family two streets over to fix up their house before they move in. He’s there now, tearing out rotting beams.

This collapse is not of the life-threatening kind. Not to Hotch at least. There’s no internal bleeding, no emergency surgeries. He doesn’t even need stitches but he’s on so many medications that thin his blood that it’s just on the safer side. From the hospital, he calls who he needs to. Reid first, he’ll worry when he gets to Hotch’s house and sees his truck gone. Then, Jack, it’s better to hear this sort of thing from him and not Emily in half an hour when she needs to yell at someone and who better than the son of the idiot she hates right now? Dave and Emily follow and he trusts them to carry the news the rest of the way. Rather, he simply doesn’t want to talk about it anymore and he’d rather Garcia and JJ and Morgan and everyone else just be mad at him than go on to have another conversation about how he’s feeling.

Fine. He just got light-headed. It was the heat and his perpetually low iron and probably his thin blood (the killer had been his blood pressure but they’re working on that). He just needs to get better about remembering to eat breakfast -- a larger breakfast than just tea and toast. Fainting, he assures Dave, happens. Jack’s seen it happen. The heat makes it worse, the summertime drains him. He’s come in from the garden and gotten weak in the knees plenty of times. He actually moved some chairs around the sliding glass door to the yard, prepared for this exact problem.

This over clarification does not help.

Made only the more complicated when he explains his head is fine. The fainting thing really isn’t a big deal, he just needs a ride home. He’d landed weirdly and pulled his back. He left with a new problem entirely, a torn ligament in his shoulder. That is a problem for a different day.

The surgery is set for the week just before Jack’s finals. Armed with a suitcase full of textbooks, his laptop, notes from this semester (and a few from last), and just enough clothes to recycle a few and still be fine, Jack shows up on his father’s doorstep. “I mean, the hospital isn’t exactly the library… but it’s not the worst place I’ve studied.” It’s far too late to send Jack back but Hotch is reluctant to let him stay. Even if he does prefer Jack be his ride rather than the likes of Penelope and that tiny green eye-sore of a car she drives or leave him to Reid and his defensive, jerky driving.

To the sound of “Aaron Hotchner November 2, 1971”, Jack settles down with his books. He tries to put himself in the right headspace for studying but it’s harder than he anticipated. The constant motion of the room unsettles him and he looks up several times to see his father’s reaction. To gauge the anxiety in his face, in the deep breathes that he pulls in through his nose. In how tight his fists are holding the sheets underneath him. It’s a simple surgery and they’ll be out of here in no time.

“Young” his heart had not handled the heavy sedatives and morphine well. Then again, those incidents are always hard to measure against a thing like this. Rushed into the ER with nine chest wounds and having nearly bled to death, it’s natural to conclude the stress of his depleted blood supply and his very recent trauma had caused his heart to stop on the table. That said trauma was the reason his heart had maintained to be a steady problem up until they released him. Again, when he was brought in with some of the worst internal bleedings the staff had ever seen. His heart had given them trouble too.

Jack is staring blankly at his flashcards when the doctor comes out.

Hotch had gone to Georgetown to be a lawyer like his father and his grandfather. Jack went to Georgetown to get an Art History degree. He was lead by something else. Not chasing some shadow, clutching at a lie he spoonfed himself. Jack didn’t live in anyone’s shadow, never felt the pressure to look and act a certain way. Was never beaten into submission or told to hold his tongue. Jack went to museums every Saturday with his father, preferred them to the aquariums and the zoo. Hotch held him close to the artwork, pushed his dense schedule around to go to new shows, and learned the names of pieces just to recite the knowledge back to Jack.

In his lap, Jack is memorizing pieces of art like his father had years ago for him. He’s stuck on The Anatomy Lesson, eyes glued to the details. The way colorless skin is held in forceps, peeled back to reveal angry red. He can feel the pinching teeth on his own skin, feels the heavy flow of hot blood spilling down over his arm.

“Hotchner?”

Jack flinches, caught completely off guard. He stands, flushing as he tucks his notecards into his textbook, and stands. “Ugh, yeah. That’s me.” He wipes his hands off on his pants, rubbing away the nervous sweat he’s built up.

The doctor recognizes him from earlier. He’d watched Jack and Hotch get out one last goodbye. Jack pulling up a nervous smile, dirty-blonde hair, and light eyes a complete contrast to Hotch’s ever-darkening features. Somehow more solemn, voice taken by the sedatives already working through his body. He hadn’t said a word, eyes vacantly following Jack’s movements but unaware.

Jack expects the same monologue he hears every time. The one that comes out so dry and perfect that they must practice it in front of the mirror, say it softly to themselves as they as they get ready each morning. He’s got it memorized himself -- the bits about recovering in post-op, make a full recovery, and whatever on the fly timeline they give for access back to the room.

“But he’s-- He’s okay? He’s--”

Jack feels impossibly childish. Five years old and Emily’s chilled fingers brushing his tears away, “baby, I know you miss your mommy. But you’re being so terribly mean to your daddy.” He had been, a terrible little monster squirming away from his father and refusing to eat anything. Throwing tantrums about nothing and everything. Screaming and crawling under his bed every chance he got. Pushing himself to the wall knowing he couldn’t be reached.

Now he can remember Hotch just sitting at the edge of the bed. There on the floor for hours. Sometimes he read, would pick up a book, and just start from wherever just to make it so his voice was reaching where he couldn’t. He slept there too, on the hard ground just to make sure Jack knew he was there. Slipped strawberry pop tarts on crazily designed animal plated under there, offered bites of his own food to the darkness under the bed. Sippy cups full of chocolate milk and juice.

He feels like a little boy again, getting news that he has no idea how to handle.

“He’s okay?” Jack stammers. “He’s going to be okay? I can see him?”

Hotch remembers those days under the bed too. Waking up in the middle of the night as Jack groggily curled close to him, still under the bed but crawling under his blanket. The ends of those awful sobs, Jack’s little chest jerking as he hiccuped. The force of his sorrow was too much for his little body. And Jack would fall into his lap, exhausted and needing comfort. His little fingers tracing the scars on Hotch’s face. How he whispered “thank you” and “please” from underneath the bed and how he’d pop his head out to say, “Daddy, I’m going to potty. I’ll be right back.”

Jack’s legally old enough to drink now and Hotch still sees that little boy. The three-year-old wiping his snot on Hotch’s dress shirt. The six-year-old holding his hand and reminding him to look both ways twice before crossing the street. The eight-year-old he left the hallway light on for, old enough now to think he needed to brave the night without a nightlight. So Hotch would offer to keep the hallway light on, not for Jack but for him because he doesn’t like the dark. The ten-year-old sheepishly offering him a father’s day gift he bought with saved allowance, a t-shirt he’s now worn the words off of. The fifteen-year-old curling up beside him on the couch, seeking his comfort but not sure how to ask anymore. The eighteen-year-old as tall as him talking his ear off while he tries to get dinner ready, sticking his fingers in the pan and sitting on the counter.

How did he grow up so fast?

He’s not a little boy anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time.

The creaking of a chair moves Hotch’s attention and he looks away from Jack. Away from the sight of his little boy curled up on a cot, drooling onto a pillow and notebook still open, a pen dangling from his fingers. He looks over and Emily’s sitting up, her reading glasses precariously sat on the tip of her nose. “Oh look,” she mumbles. She stretches out, groaning as her joints complain from being held in this miserable hospital chair for hours. “You’ve decided to join the land of the living.”

Hotch watches her fold the thin black frames of her glasses up, gently sits them down by his hand as she stands up. Jack had called her, even though he promised he wouldn’t worry anyone. Hotch didn’t want anyone else coming to the hospital over something so small and though Jack protested that their concern wouldn’t be because he was bothering them but because they love him. The very same reason he’d come home is that people gather after these sorts of things. They need reassurance that he’s alive and he’s just going to have to accept that. They compromised in the end, everyone could come to smother him in worry after he got home from the surgery.

But Jack was scared. He called the only person he could think to, the woman whose role in his life that was never really clear. She’d gotten on him about his grades, smacked the back of his head when he said something stupid, and always let him taste-test her wine at Thanksgiving dinner. Emily knew things that not even Jessica knew and she could be sterner than both Hotch and Jessica and also more relaxed, more understanding. She was always there for both of them, in the same capacity as Jessica and yet her own unique one. A friend Hotch trusted and loved and Jack could understand that. His friends always wanted to know if they were dating and he knew intuitively that the answer was no but he would hesitate to try and explain. But he didn’t understand the gravity that pulled them together, adults and their relationships far too complex to fit it into his simple understanding of love.

He did understand she was the only person to call.

“What’d he do this time?” she asked and knew she was playing the wrong role for the wrong Hotchner because no sooner than she could ask she had an armful of Jack. She sat with Jack for hours, let him get his fear out. Held him while he sobbed, felt pulled to the past. When it was Aaron on her shoulder, terrified he’d lose his son. Life has this very odd way of bringing everything full circle.

“I bet you’re hurting.” Emily moves to the table and pours water into the little paper Dixie cup left by the nurses. “Been right dramatic this afternoon,” she informs him, a dissatisfied matter-of-fact tone in play. “I know you find that to be particularly taxing.” She holds the cup for him, gentle despite her annoyance. She’s close enough to see the iodine on his skin. Dark orange swipes across his pale skin, the smell burns with its strength.

He pulls greedily from the cup, mouth impossibly dry. Stopped only by how little she poured, he sinks back heavily into the pillows behind him. His shoulder hot and angry from forcing himself upright.

“They’re going to let you go in the morning,” she says, sitting back down. He won’t remember this in the morning. Emily holding his hand, whispering thickly how angry she is with him as tears fall down her face. How scared she was getting that phone call from Jack, racing down here to be a composed person to comfort his son thinking her best friend was in the morgue.

He’ll wake up with a pit in his stomach, residual feelings from the night before he can’t tie down to memories. Emily shows no inclination to repeat herself, just coldly informs him that she’ll have Penelope make him a cardiologist appointment (it’s unspoken that no one trusts him to do this himself). Jack walks on glass, close by but terrified of being pushed away. Hotch is too out of it to put up much of a fight, by the time the morning shift has their hands on him he’s silent. Properly dosed up for a ride home and out of his mind.

He’s groggily propped up on pillows, watching Jack and Emily fight over if he has the right to wear shoes or not. Emily wants to hold them captive, he won’t run off or refuse the wheelchair without them and Jack shakes his head, “he’s not our P.O.W, Emily. He’s even going to get that far if he does try to run.” He’s given his shoes but Emily makes a point to collect his cane, holds it while the nurse helps him into the wheelchair. He’s a flight-risk and she’s not going to trust him, he’s run off on her too many times for that.

At the house the other’s have gathered up, having nothing better to do evidently on a Wednesday at ten in the morning. Penelope’s frying eggs and bacon, the carnage it takes to feed their brood spread out on his kitchen counter. Reid sitting on the counter, Hank in his lap, and the two of them watching Penelope. Derek’s on the sofa, feet kicked up on the coffee table, and Savannah learning on his shoulder. Dave’s getting orange juice from the store declared them all lawless, and didn’t trust them to get the right kind.

Hotch is granted his cane to get back inside the house but Emily threatens to kick it out from underneath if he tries anything fast. He smacks her ankle and Jack has to actually step between them to keep them apart. It’s in times like these where Jack finds himself wondering how these two ever had any role in raising him at all.

“Don’t you have jobs?” Hotch asks, hooking his cane over the coat rack and toeing his shoes off. He ignores the hand Emily places on his arm, afraid he’ll knock himself over. He manages just fine, has the whole house set up so that every other step is within arms distance of something to lean on. Fingers trailing the back of the couch he limps past Derek, smiling when Savannah offers a soft “glad you’re okay”. She pats his hand and he nods back.

“Up for some food, sir?” Penelope asks and she’s not taking no for an answer. They might be having heaping servings of eggs and bacon and gravy and orange juice but she’s made two small bowls of oatmeal. She takes the medicine Jack tosses up on the counter, puts it at the end where the rest of his medication sits. “I cut up apples,” she tells Hotch with a wide grin, sliding the bowl in front of him. “Dashed a little cinnamon and sugar in there, it’ll stick to your bones. Keep you healthy.”

He’s at a healthy weight at the moment, not as thin as he leans to when he’s sick but with Hotch, it’s always a good thing to have some collateral weight for the “in case”. Lifting the spoon in his left hand he scoops some of the oatmeal up, doing his best to hide his annoyance at how weak his extremities still are. How his hand shakes under the light strain of the oatmeal. He looks up, watches Spencer carry Hank over to the highchair sitting at the table beside him. He’s distracted so Emily swoops in, takes his spoon from his hand, and tries his oatmeal. He lets her do it. He raises an eyebrow and she shrugs. She likes it. He nods, it’s pretty good.

Hank immediately knocks his spoon on the ground and makes a low whining sound in the back of his throat. “Hop help,” he whines, pointing down at his spoon. His speech is still developing so he pronounces help and hop nearly identically but Hotch understands the difference. He just can’t bend over like that. His right arm is still pinned to his chest in an intricate web of gauze and this sling.

“Reid,” Hotch calls. His voice is deep, strained from intubation and anesthesia. It makes him sound sick. “He’s dropped his spoon.”

Reid nods, he already knows.

Hank points to his shoulder and frowns, “Hop fall down?”

Hotch nods, that is pretty much what happened and at the same time, Emily sweeps in and tickles Hank. She presses kisses to his face and making him laugh loudly. “That’s what happens,” she says. “Hops is just old.” Hank is too distracted by the ongoing attack to defend Hotch not that a toddler rising to his defense is very helpful.

Hotch sighs as Jack comes up behind him, stealing his spoon too. He takes a bite of the oatmeal and deems it nearly as good as the kind that Jessica makes. Hotch wants to be annoyed by it and yet all he does is nod and finds himself smirking just a little.

Penelope calls everyone in for breakfast and Hotch ignores the kisses pressed to his cheek as people drag chairs to the table around him. To the hands that slide over his back, assurance of life he remembers Jack calling it.

Derek slides him a mug of tea, made exactly how he likes it. He sits across from Hotch, close to Hank in case either needs assistance. Emily sits to his left, slides her coffee up beside his tea so he can have some if he’s quick about it. Jack sits beside her and the rest is a blur, too much motion at once for him to take in without his contacts or glasses. Penelope slides a tea plate to him, his medicine on it, and kisses his head while he’s still scowling at the plate.

They don’t leave him alone all day.

He ends up taking a nap with Hank, the toddler’s sticky little fingers holding onto his shirt as he finds himself unable to fight off the effects of the medicine and his full stomach.

He’s squished on the couch between Derek and Dave, forced to watch baseball because he can’t worm his way upright again just yet.

They change the dressings on his shoulder, his teeth clenched tightly so that he doesn’t let anything slip.

At midnight he wakes up on the couch. Jack’s bedroom door is shut, he’s sleeping peacefully inside. His heating blanket is pulled up to his chin, the heat turned up all the way. He can’t remember getting into this state himself but he has a fate memory of JJ helping him move his hand to his mouth, encouraging him to take the pain killers before bed. Of Derek making sure he didn’t just fall straight over onto his side. He manages to find Dave stretched out on the Lazyboy -- the chair he got Hotch for his fifty-something birthday. He’ll wake up in the morning to more food being made in his lonely kitchen, JJ this time. She’ll make blueberry waffles.

If he’d wanted attention, Emily will tease the next morning, he could have just asked. And he didn’t even know he wanted this. He never finds the words to ask for it to continue but every Saturday morning it happens anyway -- his kitchen and living room full of pajamas and suits in varying degrees depending on who has what to do that morning. The fainting thing is not cool but he considers this to be a good trade.

[study-coffee-chicago]

Stars on your Sleeve (Part 2) [A Jay Halstead Imagine]

A/N: The name of the girl is Y/N (I mostly write my imagines in second person POV...except for the one you guys might see in a few weeks) and cariña is just a nickname/term of endearment in Spanish that means sweetheart. Sorry if anyone got confused about that in part one!

"Dad," you started as you walked into Jay's office after school that day.

It was a Thursday and you had taken the bus from school to the district. It wasn't often that you did this, but you had gotten texts from both your mom and dad telling you that the current case was going to drag on and on tonight, so they wanted you at the district so that you wouldn't be home alone until two or three o'clock in the morning.

"Hi, cariña. How was your day? Learn anything interesting in school?"

"Dad," you groaned. "It's high school, half the stuff they teach me I won't ever use again."

"Well, excuse me for wanting to know about my daughter's day."

"Just can't wait for this week to be over to sleep in."

"You and me both, kid."

"Half the time you work weekends though, Dad," you pointed out.

"Comes with the sergeant title."

"And your sleeping in is like 7:00."

"Point taken. Now, did Mom pack you a few extra snacks or do you need some money for the vending machines?"

"She didn't--"

"Don't even finish that sentence, young lady," Hailey said as she burst into Jay's office. "I packed you a few extra things and you know it. You just want--"

"--Oreos," Jay and Hailey said at the same time.

"Hey, don't blame me! They taste good," you protested. "Anyway, Dad, can I use your laptop to do my homework?"

"Don't you have that school-issued one?"

"That one blocks Netflix."

Jay crossed his arms across his chest. "Homework, huh?"

"I'm just writing a paper. It's not like I'm doing math or reading something."

"What type of paper?" Hailey asked. "Because, I'm pretty sure that if it's a research paper, you need to focus."

"It's a narrative, so I don't need to be constantly focused, Mom."

"Makayla does the same thing," Adam said as he entered the office as well. "Let the kid have the laptop, Jay."

"Thanks, Adam."

"Uh," Jay groaned, "I guess."

"We also have a lead, so you wanna roll out after I give you the info?" Adam asked.

"Yeah. Sorry, Y/N, you need to go into the breakroom now."

"But why can't I stay in here?" you whined. "I want your spinny chair."

"Y/N, this is a case," your mom told you. "You know the rules: no being around the case talk. It's for your own good, we don't want to scar or scare you."

Mom, you know what I've seen, you wanted to tell her, but you knew it would be no use as your parents would never budge on this rule.

"I know, Mom."

Jay pulled his laptop from his desk along with the charger. "Rules?" he probed, holding onto the laptop and charger.

"Dad, I know the rules. Mom, c'mon, tell him."

"It's your dad's laptop, Y/N. I'm not arguing with you or him on this one."

Jay cocked his head to the side. "I'll give you the laptop after you tell me the rules...even though I know you know them."

You sighed. You went through this every time you used his laptop when he was going to be gone. "Only use my account, don't try to login to your account, and do not delete my search history."

"Here you go." He handed you his laptop and charger. "Good luck on your paper. Don't work too hard."

You went into the breakroom and opened the laptop. First, you pulled up Netflix, and then you pulled up your paper. It was your paper for your senior portfolio, which most people were putting off, seeing as you were only a freshman, you didn't need to work on it yet. But, you knew it had to be long, so starting it now would probably be helpful.

The paper was basically a narrative telling a story about each year of school. The stories had to be from two to five pages long, which meant that the paper in its entirety would be between 26 and 65 pages long. But, you didn't mind. It's not like you had to write a boring research paper. You also had to write about your career goals and one wish for your future as well, which would make the paper even longer still.

Seeing as your schooling didn't exactly match up with the American school system until you were around nine and in third grade, you had gotten permission from your teacher to just write about the sections of kindergarten, first, and second grade, as just memories from when you were six, seven, and eight years old.

You'd save the memories of six and seven for later, since you'd have to dig into the part of your brain where you were in the orphanage with your older sister, Illiana.

For now, you just scribbled down a few lines for ideas of when you were eight years old...which was pretty simple since a lot happened in your life that year.

***

"Y/N, we brought you some food if you--"

"Shut up!" Mouse hissed as the rest of the unit clambered up the stairs and into the bullpen. "She's sleeping."

Yes, when Mouse came home he returned to his job as the tech analyst of the Intelligence Unit. And, when Jay became sergeant, he pulled a few strings and got him a huge salary increase.

"I'll pull the car around front," Hailey offered.

"No," Jay whined. "That means I gotta be the bad guy and wake her up."

"Sorry, babe. I call dibs."

"Ew, guys, please keep the lovey-dovey nicknames to home. I don't need to see that," Adam joked.

"Shut up, Ruz."

Hailey swiped the keys from Jay's office and Jay went to wake you up. But, before he did, he saw the laptop, still open to both Netflix and your paper.

There wasn't much in the paper yet, as Jay had expected, only a few bullet points. His name caught his eye below the age 8 section...whatever that meant. He didn't mean to pry (well, really he did), but he closed the laptop without logging you out so that he and Hailey could take a look at it later.

"Y/N, Y/N, wake up."

You were woken up by someone gently shaking your shoulder.

"Quiero dormir, vaya," you whined. That was one thing you always did: reverted back to Spanish when you were tired. At least both Jay and Hailey understood it now because they had learned Spanish...which helped them with parenting because when they were mad at you, they'd talk in Spanish and that's how you know you were in deep shit.

"I know you want to sleep, and I'm not leaving," Jay answered. "But, we're going home so you can sleep in your bed instead of here."

"Mmmm, okay," you mumbled. You rubbed your eyes, but then decided it was too much work to get up, so you just sat up and closed your eyes once again.

"C'mon, cariña. Mom's got the car out front and then all you gotta do is stay awake until we get home, okay?"

"Mmmm," you mumbled and then stood up. He already had your backpack slung over his shoulder and was holding his laptop in the other hand. "Can I skip school tomorrow? I'm tired."

"Not a chance," Jay chuckled. "But, I can drive you to school and we can get you a frappucino on the way there."

"Mom won't be mad?"

"We don't have to tell Mom everything now do we?"

"No, we don't."

***

"What are you doing?" Hailey asked Jay as she slid into bed next to him that night. "Are you seriously checking our daughter's search history this late at night? C'mon Jay, she's a good kid. You won't find anything."

"That's not what I'm looking at. But, now that you mention it, I should probably check that, too."

"Then, what are you reading? Because I know for a fact that your case notes are definitely not as organized as that."

"Wow, Hails, you're so sweet," Jay said sarcastically. "It's Y/N's paper. The rubric was pasted at the top and it looks like she has to write about a memory from each year of her life and her career goals and a wish for the future."

"And you were snooping because...?"

"Because I saw my name. I wanna see what she says about us, Hailey."

"Jay, she loves us, baby. We're her parents. We both know that. You don't need to read her schoolwork to know that."

"Either way, I'm still reading it. Join me if you want, or go to sleep."

"Uh, fine. But if she asks, this was your idea and I will not hesitate to throw you under the bus."

Age 8, they both read to themselves, leaving/running away from orphanage

"God, no matter how many years it's been since she told us what happened, it never fails to break my heart," Hailey said.

Jay wrapped one arm around his wife. "I know, babe. I feel the exact same way."

"Hey, Y/N," the therapist started and you looked up at her. "Do you want to in that room over there and watch some tv while I talk to jay and Hailey? I can even turn on the Spanish movies for you."

"Okay!"

After getting you all set up, she left you in the room with a Spanish children's movie playing while she went to get Jay and Hailey.

"Jay and Hailey?" she asked as she entered the waiting room.

"Dr. Smith," Jay greeted.

"I have something to tell both of you, and Y/N told me it was okay that I tell you. When I asked if she wanted to be the one to tell you this, she said no because she didn't want to make you sad."

They entered the room where you had previously been and Dr. Smith sat in a chair and Jay and Hailey sat on the couch.

"What's this about?" Hailey asked.

"Well, she told me why she ran away from the orphanage."

Jay and Hailey were shocked. You'd been with them for three months and hadn't once mentioned why you ran away and what happened before Jay found you. It wasn't for lack of trying on Hailey and Jay's part, though. They tried. After all, they knew how to talk to child victims. But, they didn't want to push you too hard, and eventually, they just dropped the topic all together because they knew you'd talk about it when you were ready. Apparently, today was the day that you were ready to tell that story.

"And?" Jay pushed. "Why'd she run away?"

"She said that they came for her, the people who you were fighting," Dr. Smith said.

"Los Rebeldes," Jay said, more to Hailey than to anyone else.

"They came for her specifically?" Hailey asked.

"No, they just came to the orphanage. She said that she heard voices--male voices--telling them to get down on the ground and then some shots rang out. Her sister, Illiana, told her to hide and slipped the necklace around her neck. So, she did. She said she closed her eyes really tight and she just laid there, hiding and barely breathing. She said she heard a gunshot and then she heard Illiana scream and she heard squishing noises."

"Oh my God," Hailey gasped.

"You're saying they shot and killed her?" Jay asked, his voice cracking.

"That's what it sounded like, yes."

"How did she get out?"

"She said that she snuck out through a small door in the back of the room. She said it wasn't a real door, but it was a small door that led to the outside, by her description, it sounded about three feet tall and two feet wide."

"The waste doors," Jay muttered.

"The what?" Hailey asked.

"The waste doors...well, that's what we called them on Base anyway. They were these little doors where you could place stuff outside. Sometimes we'd put the packaging of our MRE's there or other crap we didn't need anymore. Not good for the planet, but yeah, that's what we did."

"So, Jay, you're telling me that Y/N essentially snuck out of the orphanage through a trash chute?"

"Well, we used them for waste, which is why we called them waste doors. But, I heard rumors of them being used at orphanages for parents to put their baby in a crib. They'd just open the door and place the baby in the little crib on the other side of the door."

"She moved the crib and snuck out through there?"

"If there was a crib, then she moved it and got out. If not, she just crawled out through there."

"Did she tell you anything about when she left?" Hailey asked Dr. Smith.

"She said that she didn't have much with her, just her teddy bear and that locket. But, she said that she walked for the rest of the day. And, according to her timeline, the soldiers came right after breakfast. She said she was really scared that they were going to find her and so she just kept walking. But then, she found a bit of a forest it sounded like and since it was starting to get dark and cold, she laid down."

"I found her in the middle of the night and she must've been there since sunset. No wonder she was hypothermic."

"We got her her first banana split after that therapy session," Hailey said. "I honestly don't know whether the food was to get her to try something new or to comfort us."

"Yeah, that was a rough night. I didn't even want her to leave my arms," Jay said. "Jay found me and I went home to Chicago," he read aloud. "Man, that night was rough, too. Probably worse than the night where we found out why she left."

"Now, it's crowded here, cariña so stay cerca to us or go mano a mano with me or Hailey, okay?" Jay asked you as the three of you found a parking spot at Navy Pier.

Adam, Kim, Kevin, and Will were all there as well. They had planned to go out and party and go to a bar when Jay returned home, but that changed now that he and Hailey had a kid to take care of, so they had decided to take a trip to Navy Pier.

In the airport, Jay had gotten a huge coffee from Starbucks, seeing as he had barely slept on the way home. Before coming to Navy Pier, you had gone to a place called iHOP where you had gotten some really yummy pancakes, and Adam, Kevin, and Will had made you laugh a lot and Kim spoke Spanish with you.

"What does that word mean?" you asked.

"What word?" Jay asked, looking down at you as he took your hand.

"Cr-crowded," you sounded out slowly.

"Uh, it means there's lots and lots of people."

"Oh, okay. I stay by you."

"So Y/N, what do you like to do?" Will asked you.

"I like reading and play fútbol," you told him.

"Really? Jay loves playing soccer!"

"We played back at the big house in España," you told Will excitedly. "We won and I got lots and lots of goals."

"Looks like you have a pro soccer player on your hands, little brother," Will said to Jay.

"Don't I know it."

"We go on the big thingy you showed me in the little book in the plane?" you asked Jay.

"The Ferris wheel?" You nodded excitedly. "We can do that, but let's walk around first. We might be able to play some games and win you a friend for Osito."

"Really? Osito have a friend?"

"Really," Jay promised.

As you walked down Navy Pier, you were excitedly pointing out every little thing you saw from the ducks and the seagulls to the big yachts floating down the Chicago River.

"Let's go into Garrett's, babe," Hailey suggested when they were inside the big atrium. "Give her a taste of Chicago's world-famous popcorn."

"I think that's a great idea," Jay agreed. "What do you think, cariña? Want to try some popcorn and then we'll get your favorite?"

You tilted your head to the side. "Popcorn? What is that?"

"Palomitas," Kim clarified for you in Spanish. "Hay muchos tipos diferentes de palomitas allí para probar y comprar."

"Oh, okay. Yes, please."

"What did you say to her?" Hailey whispered to Kim.

"Just gave her the Spanish translation of popcorn and then told her that there's a bunch of different types of popcorn that she can try and buy in there. But, you and Jay most definitely have your work cut out for you when it comes to learning Spanish. You're lucky that she's pretty good with English already and that I'm here to help you learn Spanish."

***

"Sleepy, cariña?" Jay asked as he heard you yawn from the backseat.

Hailey was driving and he was holding a big bag of caramel and cheddar popcorn...which Hailey was telling him not to eat all of it because she knew he would. You were in the backseat with your big stuffed bear, whom you had named Osita since she was a girl bear because she had really soft white fur and a pink ribbon tied around her. Jay had won that for you when he played a shooting game. You also had a stuffed duck that Will had won for you when he played a guess the weight game. You named him Pato...which meant duck in Spanish. You had gone on the Ferris wheel and had pointed out all the pretty things in the sky when you were up there. Hailey had never seen Jay so happy as when he was smiling wide at every little thing you pointed out and he tried to explain to you what they were.

"No," you answered as you laid your head against Osita. It was currently 3 pm Chicago time, which made it about 9 pm Spain time.

"Tell you what," Hailey started, "When we get home, we can show you your room, and then we can watch a movie and eat this popcorn. Because, if we don't start eating it soon, Jay will eat it all."

"Jay eat it all if we no eat it too?"

"Jay eats a lot," Hailey joked.

You reached your hand in front of you and towards Jay. "Palomitas please." Jay chuckled and Hailey smiled as he put some popcorn into your little outstretched hand. "Gracias."

"De nada," Jay told you.

"When we watch movie, how I get it?" you asked.

"We get it on the tv," Jay told you.

"No, how I know what they saying?"

Hailey hadn't thought that far ahead when she had suggested watching a movie. "Um," Hailey faltered. "We can make it so it's in Spanish."

"But then you no know what they say," you pointed out.

"We can put words on the bottom of the screen in English for us," Jay suggested. "Then all three of us will know what they're saying. Is that okay?"

"Okay!"

"Hailey," Jay whispered. "What are we gonna watch?"

"She's too old for princesses probably and way too young for action movies...how about Disney Channel movies? We could try High School Musical? That one's pretty good."

"You're kidding Hails. You watched that? Didn't it come out when we were like 20 or 25?"

Hailey held back a laugh. "Yes, it did. But, I babysat a lot of kids in my neighborhood who were around Y/N's age, and we'd always end up watching those Disney Channel originals."

"Okay, whatever you say, babe."

***

"I think I'm gonna bring her to bed," Jay said.

You had fallen asleep halfway through the movie. Before starting it, you had seen your room. It was purple! And, in black letters behind your bed, it said Salon de Y/N, which meant Y/N's room. Jay assumed that Kim had helped Hailey with the spelling and the boys had helped move the furniture into your room. There was also a little basket with a few things they thought you would like, such as a few different colored soccer balls and a bookshelf.

On the bookshelf, Hailey had picked out some books in Spanish that she had found at Barnes and Noble and some short chapter books in English that she used to read as a kid, such as the Nancy Drew series and Little House on the Prairie. She knew that you might need help reading them and might not be able to completely understand them all by yourself yet, but she knew that she and Jay would be there to help you.

"It's 6:00," Hailey protested. "Shouldn't we wake her up and have her stay awake for a few more hours so that her body can adjust?"

"If you're asking an adult like me that, yes, I'd stay awake. But, she's a kid. She needs her sleep. And, I'll probably be up before you anyway, so I can deal with her if she wakes us up at five in the morning."

"Okay super dad," Hailey joked. "Bring her to bed. I'll make us a quick dinner and cover this popcorn so it doesn't get stale. Can't wait for us to go to bed tonight." She winked.

"Hails, as much as I would love to take you up on that, I don't think it's a good idea when it's Y/N's first night. But, I will give you all the cuddles in the world tonight, don't you worry about that."

"As long as you didn't pick up the habit of snoring overseas then I'm all for that, babe."

***

Jay woke up to the sound of soft whimpering. It sounded like it was coming from the hallway but he couldn't be sure. He reached over Hailey and was about to grab her gun from her drawer where he knew that she kept it, but stopped when he remembered that it was probably just you. It wasn't just Jay and Hailey in the house anymore; you were there as well and that's probably where the noise was coming from. And, he didn't want to scare you by holding a gun.

He glanced over at the clock. 3 am. Yeah, sounds about right that you'd be waking up right about now since you'd slept for about nine hours and it was 9 am in Spain right now.

Jay slowly tiptoed out into the hallway, cursing himself that he hadn't left a light on or kept his and Hailey's bedroom door open so you could find them easily.

Jay reached out for the hall light switch and flicked on the lights, causing you to jump. "Hey, hey, it's just me. It's just Jay," he said calmly once he laid eyes on you. You were holding Osito and there were fresh tears running down your cheeks.

Jay never knew the force of an eight-year-old running into him could be so strong as to almost knock him over. You dropped Osito and wrapped your arms around him as if your life depended on it.

"It's okay, it's okay," Jay soothed. "What's wrong, cariña? Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"I-I no know where I was," you mumbled into his shirt. "Was dark. Think you and Hailey left, so I came to find you."

"Oh, sweetie," Jay started. "I'm sorry. I forgot to turn the light on for you in your room so that you'd know where you are. And, me and Hailey would never leave you."

"You promise?"

"I promise." Your stomach grumbled. "Hungry?" you nodded. "Alright, let's get you a sandwich and then get you back to bed."

"You eat too?" you asked.

"You know, I could go for a sandwich."

***

The next morning, Hailey rolled over to see that Jay wasn't in bed next to her and his side of the bed was cold. Then, she remembered you and walked over to your room and slowly opened the door. You looked up from the Spanish book you were reading and put a finger to your lips.

"Jay sleeping," you told Hailey.

Jay was sitting upright in your bed against the headboard, his thumb holding a place in what looked to be a Nancy Drew book.

"Did Jay read to you last night, huh?" Hailey asked as she walked closer to you and Jay.

"Yeah, he told me that Nancy does what you and Jay do with policia. Then, I sleep again and then I wake up and he sleep again, so I started reading in Spanish."

"I think we should let him sleep a little more while we go finish High School Musical and eat palomitas before Jay eats it all. Does that sound good?"

You nodded eagerly and closed your book. Then, you got out of bed and followed Hailey out of your room. And, after hearing that Jay had read to you and seeing him sleeping upright in your bed so that you'd be able to sleep, she had one more reason why she was truly head over heels for the man she married and got to call her husband.

"Look, Jay. She wrote her birthday in here for age 9," Hailey said as she pointed to the laptop screen.

"God, I don't think I'll forget that day for the rest of my life. It was such a good day."

"You are such a sap when it comes to Y/N."

"Hey! let me be sappy about our daughter, Hailey Anne. She's in high school now, high school. That means she'll be going off to college soon."

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself, sergeant," she joked. "Just keep reading this. It was your idea to snoop through her stuff after all."

"Jay, you got the stuff?" Hailey asked as she was sitting cross-legged on their bedroom floor with wrapping paper, tape, and scissors in front of her.

"Jesus, Hails," Jay laughed, "You make it sound like we're doing a drug deal."

"Well sorry if I want her birthday to go really well. Now, did you get them or not?"

"They're in here." He set a plastic bag down on the bed. He took out three framed pictures and laid them out on the bed. Of course, he made sure that the frames were different shades of purple. "Good?"

Hailey stood up and looked at the pictures. "I never know the CPD's sketch software could work miracles like this, so yeah, I'd say we did good."

Over the past month, everyone in Intelligence had told you that they were testing out a new sketch software to use to try to track down criminals. They let you play with it because they said they wanted to see what it would do...even though they knew what it did, how good it was, and it wasn't new. It was just a ploy to make sure they got your birthday gift right. They had told you to try and input someone's face from memory, someone like your older sister, Illiana.

So, when you had to go to the district for the day with Jay and Hailey, you'd ask to play with that software to work on your sketch. Little did you know, they were printing it out on fancy photo paper and putting it in a frame for your birthday. Jay had also swiped your necklace one day when you had taken it off to go swimming and had taken pictures of what your mom and dad looked like. Then, he and Hailey each took one parent and worked on making their faces through the CPD's sketch software.

"Now what the hell is this?" Jay asked as he held up a big board that Hailey had laying out in front of her as well.

"That, Jay, is so we can stick the back of the frames to it so that we don't have to give the three of them to her separately. Then, she can just take them off from it and place them wherever she wants in her room."

"You're smart. Maybe you should've gone to law school."

"Haha, very funny, Halstead. But then I wouldn't have met you."

"Eh, I beg to differ. You'd probably end up being some prosecution or defense attorney and then I'd have to testify, and after getting yelled at by you on the stand, I'd end up making an ass of myself and ask you out for a drink."

"Is that so?"

"That is very much so."

He walked up to her and grabbed her by the waist and she gave him a peck on the lips. "Hails," Jay whined. "Why'd you phone it in?"

"Because we have presents to wrap. Now, sit your ass down on the carpet and help me."

"Yes ma'am. But, damn, you're really going to be the death of me."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

***

"Before we do cake everyone, me and Hailey have one more gift for Y/N," Jay announced by tapping a fork gently against his champagne glass. Yes, the adults were drinking champagne because they were celebrating your first birthday with them as their kid. No, they wouldn't even give you one sip...but you didn't care and you didn't ask.

You had gotten spoiled all day. Will had taken you out for breakfast where you had gotten chocolate chip pancakes with all the toppings. Then, he took you to the sporting goods store where you bought an FC Madrid jersey and to Barnes Noble where you bought a few new books.

Then, when you got home, you were surprised to find everyone from Intelligence there along with some people from Med, and firehouse 51. Emilia, Mouse, and Makayla were there, and your friend, Rosa, whom Emilia had introduced you to earlier in the year at her welcome home party since Rosa was one of Emilia's little cousins.

You had gone outside and played a huge soccer game. And, when you got sick of playing soccer, Emilia busted out a makeup kit she had bought for you. And you, Makayla, Emilia, and Rosa did each other's makeup. While the four of you were doing makeup, a soccer tournament had broken out where Intelligence played Med, and then the winner of that game played Firehouse 51. Intelligence won against Med...mostly due to Jay. But, then they played 51 and they got creamed.

"Here you go, nena," Hailey said as she passed you the gift. Hailey had started calling you nena since Jay had a nickname for you, cariña, which you learned now meant sweetheart in English. So, she decided to call you nena, which meant honey. And, you and Hailey had thought it only fair if you came up with a nickname for Jay. So, the one you decided on was quite fitting in your mind: pecas...which translated to freckles. And, Will, well Will calls you Osa because your favorite animal is a bear. It's probably one of only three words he knows in Spanish next to hola and adios.

The gift was long and hard...like a piece of wood. You slowly opened the gift, wondering what else you could have possibly gotten.

You bit your lip as you finished tearing the paper off and flipped it over. "Mamí, Papí, Illiana," you whispered as you held back tears. "¿Cómo lo hicisteis?" you asked. Seeing as Jay and Hailey had been working very hard on their Spanish for the past nine months, they could understand you and could sometimes explain an English word to you in Spanish if needed.

"We didn't really need to test out the drawing thing," Jay answered. "We just needed a picture of Illiana. And, I got the pictures of your parents from the locket."

At this, you started to cry harder, remembering that day when Jay had to cut your necklace off of you in the back of the Med truck in Spain.

You stood up and hugged both Jay and Hailey at the same time. Now, you had both of your families watching over you: your biological family from in heaven and your parents in the here and now. And, your biological family now had no doubt in their mind up there that you would never, ever forget them.

"You remember what she called us that night?" Hailey asked.

"How could I forget? It was the first night she called us mom and dad. I still remember her exact words when I told her we weren't trying to replace her biological family: Son mi familia en el cielo y en mi corazon, pero vosotros sois mi familia aquí."

"They're my family in heaven and in my heart, but you are my family here."

"Exactly."

"Oh my God!" Hailey laughed. "She wrote sixth-grade: I cheated on a literature test and Mom had to come to pick me up and I got in trouble. And then, Dad went full-on dad-mode."

"No fucking way," Jay laughed as he brought the laptop closer to him and looked for the sixth-grade section. "I can't believe this is what she's going to write about!"

"Well, in her defense, it was the first time we had to ground her and the first time you went full-on, overprotective, my daughter can do no wrong dad-mode."

"Pretty sure the next time I'll do that is when she gets asked to the homecoming dance later this year."

"Jay! You will not! You will not scare the boys away from our daughter!"

"Well, they should be scared!" Jay argued. "We're both cops, babe. We can make their death look like an accident."

"Jay, what you're talking about is murder and I shouldn't have to remind you that that is illegal. If so, I am going to the Ivory Tower tomorrow to get you stripped of your sergeant title."

"Fine, fine. The next time I'll do that is when she gets her driver's license."

"Hey, on the bright side, we wouldn't have to pick her up from the principal's office then," Hailey pointed out. "She could just drive herself home."

"We wouldn't have to figure out which of us should go pick her up like last time?"

"Exactly. And I'm pretty sure she was thankful that it was you and not me who picked her up in sixth grade."

"Miss Halstead," your literature teacher said as she stalked over to you from the other side of the classroom. "Care to tell me what you have under your sleeve?"

"My arm?"

"I don't like being disrespected in my classroom. We both know you have your phone in there. And, lying to me will just make this worse."

"I-I needed it," you stammered, not wanting to have the whole class hear how stupid you were.

"For a test? You know the rules: no cheating. Principal's office, now. Grab your stuff. And, I'll be calling your parents as you walk down there."

You grabbed your backpack and started your walk to the principal's office. It's not like you had a choice...well, you did have a choice. You could've just not used your phone on the test. But, after that last grade you got on that essay and how weirdly worded the questions were, you basically had no choice but to use your phone. It's not like you were using it to look up the answers per se, but you were using it to try and understand the questions because there was no way you were going to ask that teacher.

"Mrs. Halstead, right this way," you heard the office secretary say as they led Hailey to the principal's office. Your phone was sitting on the principal's desk, the tab you had been using to cheat open and you were fiddling with the strings of your hoodie. You had thought about deleting your search history, but knew it wouldn't be of any use because Jay and Hailey would just be able to look it up with whatever police software crap that Intelligence had access to. You knew you'd be in more trouble if you deleted it and they found out that you were lying, so you decided you wouldn't delete it...even though you were regretting that decision as your phone screen stared back at you.

"May I ask why my daughter is in the principal's office when I thought she should be taking a test?" Jay and Hailey knew all about your literature test that day as you had read the book twice to be ready for it.

"That's exactly why she's in here, Mrs. Halstead," the principal told Hailey. "She was trying to cheat on her literature test."

"She wouldn't do that!" Hailey defended you. "She studied so hard!" She looked between both you and the principal, but your gaze stayed trained on the floor.

"Just take a look."

He passed Hailey your phone and she looked at the search history and the timestamps of said history. "Y/N, is this true?"

You nodded. Hailey sighed. "I'm assuming she's suspended?"

"Since this is her first academic infraction, I'm not going to suspend her. She does need to go home for the rest of the school day, though."

"Thank you. C'mon Y/N, let's go."

You hung your head as you left the middle school, Hailey holding your phone and still trying to figure out why you did this. But she knew that one thing was for sure: the minute Jay got home, he would not be happy.

***

"You're kidding me, right?" you heard Jay ask Hailey in the kitchen.

You were currently in your room, but the kitchen was right down the hall, so if you were quiet and focused enough, you could hear their conversation.

"I wish I was, Jay," Hailey said. "Just...here, take a look."

You assumed that Hailey was handing Jay the phone and he was looking at your search history.

Jay took a deep breath and restrained himself from shoving the chair into the kitchen table.

You heard his heavy footsteps coming down the hall and quickly locked your door and then sat back down on your bed.

You heard the doorknob jiggle as Jay tried to open your door.

"Y/N! ¡Abras la puerta inmediatamente!" (Open the door immediately!)

You were in deep shit if he was yelling at you in Spanish.

You didn't move from your bed.

"¡Ábrelo ahora!" (Open it now!)

"¡Estoy viniendo! ¡Calmáse!" (I'm coming! Calm yourself!) You got up from the bed and opened the door.

"Do not ever, ever tell me to calm down ever again! Do you understand me?" Jay asked angrily as he flung open your door after he had unlocked it. You nodded. "Now, I understand that you were caught cheating on a test. Care to explain that to me?"

"Not really," you sighed as you sat on your bed.

"I'm giving you one more chance to explain to me why you chose to cheat. And I suggest you tell me the truth, kid."

You looked up to be met with Hailey standing in the doorway. She nodded to you as if to say you better listen to your dad.

"Well?" he asked as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"I needed to cheat!"

"Nobody needs to cheat!"

"Well, I did!" You dug through your backpack and found the paper you had to write for the class that your teacher failed you on. "Because of this!" You threw the paper on your bed. "And because my teacher is a puta!"

"You do not call your teacher a bitch, young lady!" Jay yelled.

"Jay!" Hailey yelled. "Take the paper, go to our room and read it and calm down!"

"So Mom can tell you to calm down but I can't?"

Jay turned back to you, but Hailey grabbed his arm. "Bedroom Jay. Now." He left the room and Hailey turned to you. "As for you. You're grounded from your phone for the foreseeable future. Sorry, nena. Now, we'll be back to talk to you after we've read whatever it is you threw on your bed."

***

"We read the paper," Jay said as he and Hailey entered your room again fifteen minutes later. "And, I'm sorry for yelling. I know me and your mom are both detectives, but it'd look better if you told us why you cheated instead of leaving us to put the pieces together."

"I'm sorry, I really am. It's just, I failed that paper. And, I worked really hard on it. And, she said it wasn't a real tradition."

The paper topic was to write about a family tradition and you wrote about the Spanish tradition of eating grapes on New Year's Eve. With twelve seconds left of the year, you'd put a grape in your mouth for every second that passed. You'd try to get all twelve grapes in your mouth, but that was really hard. You wrote about the last time you did it with your family and your papí almost got all of them in your mouth while you only got three in your mouth since you were only three years old at the time.

One of the grading criteria for the paper was that it had to be a real tradition.

"She said that it wasn't a real tradition, Dad. She said that because she had never heard of it and that it sounded weird to her, that it wasn't real. So, she failed me. I also put some Spanish words in there, but I put the translations next to it. I thought it would make it more...what's the word? It's kind of like real? Like it'd make it more real to read? You know that word for it?"

"Authentic?" Hailey asked.

"Yeah, that. I thought it'd make it more authentic to read. And, I knew the material of the book. But, the questions were so confusing and I didn't want to ask her to clarify because she's mean."

"So you googled the questions to try to figure out what they were asking?" Hailey asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I really am. I just didn't want you to be disappointed in me and think that I've been here for four years and not know English."

"Oh, cariña." Jay crouched in front of you. "We'd never think that. I promise. And I know Mom would never think that either, right?"

"That's right," Hailey agreed.

"Now, I have to go make a phone call."

"You went off on that teacher, Jay! I don't think I've ever heard you that angry when you weren't in interrogation!" Hailey laughed.

"Well yeah! That teacher's logic and grading criteria were seriously flawed. And, you read that paper. It was really good. As Y/N put it that day, she really was a puta."

Hailey rolled her eyes.

"Wish for the future," Jay read aloud. "I wish that I could figure out why Los Rebeldes came to the orphanage and killed Illiana."

"I think that's enough snooping through her stuff for the day, babe," Hailey said, beginning to feel uncomfortable reading this. "Let's just go to bed."

"Yeah, I'm just gonna take a quick shower and I'll be back, okay? I love you." He gave Hailey a quick peck on the lips and made his way to the bathroom to take a shower.

"I love you, too."

But, Jay barely heard her. He was so lost in thought about how to get answers for you, for his daughter. Hell, he wanted those answers just as bad as you. What kind of sick bastard would come into an orphanage heavily armed and just kill innocent civilians and innocent children?

***

"Mouse," Jay said as he entered the bullpen the next morning, "I need your help with something."

"Jeez, Jay, you're late," Ruzek commented. "Where's Hailey?"

"It's her RDO. And, I promised Y/N a frappuccino because she had to wake up early for school and had to go to bed late last night because we were working a case."

"Does Hailey--"

"No, Adam. Hailey does not know that I gave our fourteen-year-old daughter sugar-laced coffee this morning. And, if you so much as say the words frappuccino, Jay, and Y/N in the same sentence, I will bump you back down to patrol so fast you won't know what hit you."

Jay started to walk towards the tech area where he assumed Mouse would be. His voice carried, so he hoped he'd heard him when he'd said he needed his help.

"Whose idea was it to give Jay all this power?" Adam asked rhetorically. "I think it's going to his head."

"I heard that Ruz!"

"You needed something, Jay?" Mouse asked as he turned around from his laptop and took a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah, can you do something off the books for me?"

"You don't even have to ask anymore, man."

"Just need to make sure you don't assign a case number to it."

"I can do that. Now, what do you need?"

Jay pulled out his phone and pulled up a Spanish newspaper article from two weeks ago. He laid the phone in front of Mouse. "This. This is why I need you."

Mouse looked at the phone and back up at Jay with raised eyebrows. "I'm gonna need you to translate that. I don't speak Spanish."

"Says that the guy who killed everyone in the orphanage that Y/N was in is meeting with his lawyer about an appeal. That son of a bitch. And, it's happening on Monday."

"He's meeting with his lawyer on Monday or you'll know if he won the appeal or not on Monday?" Mouse asked.

"He's meeting with his lawyer on Monday."

"And you need me because...?"

"Think you can hack into Spain's maximum-security federal prison system?"

"You cannot be serious."

"I am dead serious, Mouse."

"Why don't you just wait to hear the news?"

Jay sighed and took a seat next to Mouse. "Y/N has to write a paper and was using my laptop. It was this narrative thing for her senior project, so it's due in a few years. But, I'll spare you the details. Y/N had to write what one of her wishes for the future was and she wrote that she wants to know why the guy killed everyone in the orphanage. Not who, because we already know that it was Raúl Rodríguez. She wants to know why."

"That guy's the one who told them to attack the orphanage? The one that killed her sister, right?"

"That's the prick."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. I'd know that if it was my sister or my kid that I'd want to know."

"Thanks, man."

"Video and audio?"

"Yeah. I'm probably gonna get Emilia in on this too to translate."

"Why? Don't you and Hailey speak Spanish?"

"We do, but they're gonna talk really fast and I probably don't know law lingo except for the word lawyer."

"Fair enough. I'll get to work."

***

"Hails, Hails," Jay shook Hailey awake.

"Jay? Why are you home so late?" she asked as she rolled over and opened her eyes. It was almost 11:30 and she had gone to bed half an hour ago...she thought Jay would've been home by 11:00.

"Paperwork," Jay answered honestly. He instantly regretted his decision of waking Hailey up knowing her history of insomnia. "But, I shouldn't have woke you up. I'm sorry, babe."

"No, I'm awake now. What's up?" She sat up in bed and turned on the lamp to see Jay changing out of his clothes and into his pajama pants and an old t-shirt. "You don't have to sleep with a shirt on you know."

Jay smirked. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? But, don't want our daughter to walk in on me shirtless."

"She's spending the night at Rosa's," Hailey informed him.

"In that case..." Jay trailed off and took off his t-shirt along with his pajama pants so that he was just in his boxers. "Better?"

"Much better."

Jay pulled back the covers on his side of the bed and slid in next to his wife. She cuddled into his side and he wrapped an arm around her.

"What'd you want to tell me?" she asked.

"How do you know I wanted to tell you something?"

"You had that look in your eye, Jay Halstead. Now, tell me."

"So persuasive." He rolled his eyes playfully.

"Shut up."

"You love it, though." He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "You know how Y/N's biggest wish was to know why Raúl Rodríguez attacked the orphanage?"

"Mhmm," she mumbled.

"Well, I'm gonna find out why."

She pulled away from him. "What? How? You're going to Spain? To interrogate him? You know the CPD doesn't have jurisdiction there even though you were a ranger there, right?"

"Hails, I'm not going overseas to find him. I promise you that."

"Okay." She settled back into his embrace. "Then what are you doing?"

"Having Mouse see if he can hack into the prison system so that I can watch the lawyer talk to him."

"And you're going to be able to understand everything they're saying?"

"No, but Emilia will."

"You called her and told her your plan before you told me?"

"No! The only person who knows is Mouse. I figured I'd call Emilia tomorrow. Like I said, I was just at the district late doing paperwork."

"Okay, I believe you. And, we're not going to have her in the room with us, Y/N that is? We're going to tell her why he did this so she doesn't have to hear it from him?"

"Precisely. Now, am I right in assuming that since Y/N's gone for the night that we can be as loud as we want?"

"You are very much correct in that." Then, he gave her a kiss...and this time, he didn't phone it in at a peck.

***

You were sitting in the breakroom Monday afternoon trying to do some American history homework. There was so much reading involved, but it was okay because you liked history. And, there were pictures in the textbook...it wasn't like you were reading Romeo and Juliet like you had to do in English class.

You knew Emilia was here because she had brought you some fries, much to your mom and dad's dismay since your mom had packed you a few extra snacks. But, Emilia said she had to hold up her reputation as your cool aunt...even if she wasn't related to you whatsoever. And so far, she was holding it up.

You didn't know why she was here, but you assumed it was because Kim was in the field and they needed someone to translate audio. Sometimes Jay would call in Emilia if he knew that she wasn't working to do some translating so he didn't have to deal with calling up a patrolman. You also knew from hearing some of his conversations with Will that Will wanted to ask her out.

And, you hoped she say yes. You wanted Emilia to be your actual aunt. Apparently, she had a thing for doctors according to Jay's side of the phone conversations you'd heard, so you hoped it'd work out if your uncle Will ever got the balls to ask her out.

All of a sudden, Emilia came into Jay's office and he took off running. Hailey saw this and she started following them.

"What?" you asked yourself.

They always would tell you if they had to leave and they'd always be sure to tell you they loved you before they left.

You quietly walked out of the breakroom and towards where you had seen them running to. You assumed they were in the tech area because of the direction they ran in and the fact that whenever Emilia was here, she was most likely in the tech room.

As you got closer, you started hearing Spanish.

Someone talking about an attack...an attack on an orphanage.

A man said it was in the Tabernas Desert.

You peeked your head around the corner to see that on the screen there was a man in a nice suit and someone sitting at a table with handcuffs on.

"Anything we don't already know?" Hailey asked.

"Not that it sounds like right now," Emilia answered. "They're just talking about the orphanage Y/N and Illiana were in and where it was."

So this is the guy who did it. This was the guy--no, the monster--who led the attack that killed your sister.

"The lawyer just asked Rodríguez why he did it," Emilia said.

"And?" Jay asked

"Jay, I need to be able to hear them talk, so shut up."

Jay held his hands up in a sign of surrender.

"The lawyer just asked if it was something personal, something like Rodríguez being an orphan and he didn't have a good experience there so he attacked it, something that would tug at the board of appeals heartstrings essentially." There was a pause as Emilia continued listening. "He said no." She paused again. "Oh my God."

"What?" Jay asked frantically. "Why did that prick kill innocent children?"

"He said he ordered the attack because the orphanage was receiving aid from the US, for things such as food, clothing, and basic necessities."

"Un-fucking-believable." Jay wanted to punch something, but he restrained himself. "So, because our country was helping those who couldn't help themselves, this prick went after them?"

"That's what it sounds like. I'm sorry, Jay."

"Hails, how are we going to tell Y/N?"

"You guys don't have to tell me," you said as you made your presence known. "I heard the whole thing."

Jay sighed. "I'm sorry cariña, really I am. I'm sorry that this happened to you. That you had to find out this way. That this was the reason for what that monster did. I'm sorry."

"Dad read my outline?" you asked, turning to Hailey.

"Yeah, nena, he did. It was just open and you know him, he couldn't stop himself."

"Because he's a detective before he's a sergeant, just like Nancy Drew," you said, bringing it back to the books you'd used to read with your dad every night when you had just come over to the states from Spain and were working on your English.

"This should never have happened," Jay said softly as he walked over to you and brought you into a tight hug. "People that do these kinds of horrific acts shouldn't have the right to be born, much less to live."

"But if that wouldn't have happened you wouldn't have found me. And I wouldn't have found my forever Mom and Dad."

A/N: I wrote over 6.5k words to get this posted today! That's a new personal record for me! Also, my neuroscience class is kicking my butt right now, so if I don't update as frequently, that's why. Hopefully, I'll get one out every week or every two weeks at the latest. Please like/reblog and comment because I love getting feedback and it keeps me motivated to write. If you want to be added to the taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you! 

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