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bluestarfruit · 1 month

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You Should See The Scars.

(Ellis Fielding X Reader)

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

NSFW, MINORS DNI WITH THIS POST

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.”

#shoutout to the 2 people who are gonna like this #loose cannons #loose cannons 1990 #ellis fielding #dan aykroyd #my shit

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