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lolitakirstein · 2 months

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Hey Neighbor Pt 9

Part 8

WC: ~1.5k

AN: I'm so worried about writing longer chapters in case they are too boring. but I hate splitting things up when I'm on a roll. ha

You watched as the man you had run into exited Toji’s house 30 minutes later. Unable to hear what the two were discussing you relied on their body language to give you some hint as to who he was. The men seemed formal towards each other yet relaxed; Toji with his hands in his pocket or across his chest, the other guy casually lighting a cigarette while showing his back to toji. There must be some level of trust between them, then. Before the man leaves, you notice him gesture towards your house. You draw back further from the window, afraid of being seen.

Once the car is out of sight and Toji returns to his house, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Should you ask Toji who he was or was that being too nosy? Not like i’ll get a straight answer, he refuses to tell me anything, you think, settling on being nonchalant about it.

Fortunately, you had work to keep you focused. And most fortunately, your hangover was minimal. Nothing more than a slight throb thanks to the pain meds Toji had offered you. You become robotic as you scan, sort, and shelve books and answer the same boring questions from customers.

Before you can notice, it’s your lunch break. You sit in the small cafe that the bookstore offers, downing a hot chai latte and checking your phone. One message from the work group chat and one from Toji that was sent a few hours ago

Toji: You ok?

You fight back the urge to send, “I can’t tell you right now, it’s not the right time,” instead, pocketing your phone and playing hard to get. You clock back into work, ready to start the second half of your shift.

Wait, am I wanting him to chase me or something? This guy who knows things but won't tell me? Why am I trying to act like this is a dude i’ve swiped on Tindr? This guy has secrets, deep ones. Ones I probably don’t wanna know—

“Excuse me,” a soft voice snaps you out of your internal monologue. You spin around and are met with a man. His dark auburn hair is close-cropped at the sides while the top fashionably brushes just above his deep brown eyes. A soft shadow of stubble peppers his strong jaw.

“Oh, hello. Can I help you?” you quickly revert to the robotic motions of a customer service provider.

“Yeah, I was looking for your classical section.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular,” you ask after leading him to the designated section of the store.

“What would you recommend?”

A question every worker hates. “Well, can never go wrong with Doestrevsky.”

“Ah, yes, I read Crime and Punishment in school. Incredible prose,” he responds.

Your heart lifts at finally being able to discuss books with someone. “Indeed, if you like that, you might like The Idiot. Same themes of human nature and society.” You grab a copy off the shelf and hand it to me.

“Well I’d be an idiot if I didn’t take the advice of such a beautiful, well-read woman,” he says coyly as you walk to the counter. You internally groan but also can’t help but blush at the compliment, though the joke was indeed awful.

“Let me know how you like it?” you say after ringing him up and bagging his purchase.

“How about we discuss it over dinner sometime,” he cocks an auburn brown.

“Oh,” you stammer, thrown off by the sudden offer. It’d been so long since you’d been on a date you forgot what it was like to be asked out. “Sure!”

“Great I’ll keep you posted on my progress,” the man who you now know as Connor pockets his phone after you exchange numbers. “I look forward to discussing it with you and hearing your beautiful thoughts.”

Ok, he was laying it on a little thick but you don't mind. The only interaction you had had with a man for the past few months had been with Toji. And those interactions were hardly civil, much less flirty. Though Toji tended to tease, it was mostly to throw you off the topic of his secrets.

The rest of your shift goes by quickly and you arrive home before the sun goes down. As you get out of your car, you notice Toji sitting on his porch steps. You try to ignore him but ignoring him is like trying to ignore a bear about to devour you. You give a wave, walking fast to your house.

“You ok?” Toji asks, still sitting on the steps. Damn, he either can’t take a hint or is just stubborn.

“Yeah, thanks,” you respond fumbling your keys out of your pocket. You drop them. Cursing yourself for being so easily intimidated by him you stoop to pick them up. Toji’s feet appear in your line of vision. You look up at the giant man standing over you. You want to feel afraid, but you can’t deny the absolute feral part of your brain at the sight of him standing over you.

“Why didn’t you text me back?” the possessive tone didn’t help dampen the submissive part of your psyche. Damn, why do I have to be such a whore for crazy men?

“I was working,” you squeak out, picking your keys up and walking to your front steps.

“I wanna talk,” Toji says behind you as you march up the steps and unlock your door.

“It’s fine Toji. Nothing to talk about,” you turn around, Toji is standing at the bottom of your porch steps.

“There is,” Toji huffs a breath. “A lot, actually.”

You were not in the mood for this. Your day ended on a good note and you intend for it to stay that way. “Look, whatever it is. I don’t care.”

“Yes you do,” Toji takes one step up.

You shake your head, even though you were screaming yes in your head. You will not let him win. “Nah, I’m good. I really couldn't care less what your little secrets are. I don’t even know you.”

“It’s not that, it’s just—”

The notification on your phone interrupts the moment. You reach into your pocket for it and notice a text from Connor.

Connor: I hope you had a good rest of your day. I must say, you made mine :)

Oh, the cringe was off the charts with this guy. But you can’t keep the stupid smile from appearing on your face. Followed by a giggle. Shit I’m giggling over a guy. I need laid

“Who’s that?” Toji asks sharply.

“No one,” you shake your head.

“No one huh,” Toji takes another step up, finally standing in front of you. “‘No one’ got you smiling like a goof?”

“You have your secrets, I have mine,” you shrug.

“You don't blush like that for just no one,” Toji teases, he steps so close you can feel the heat off of him. “Now who could possibly be making sweet little y/n blush so much besides me?”

You crane your neck up to look at him, refusing to show he’s affecting you. “I can’t tell you. It’s not the right time.”

Finally, you manage to knock him off his game by throwing his words back at him. He steps back, putting some distance between you. A scowl wrinkles his brow and his jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth. You smirk, pleased with yourself. “Good night toji.”

Toji

Toji stares at the door you slammed in his face, stricken dumb by the sass you dished out. He had expected this to be a moment of confession, finally getting it all out in the open. Now standing at your closed door, Toji has no choice but to retreat back home.

After dinner and tucking Megumi into bed, Toji collapses onto his king-size bed. He turns his head to the window, towards your house. The lamp on your bedside table creates a soft glow from your window. He watches as you enter the bedroom. Your eyes on your phone, smiling.

Toji clenches his jaw. Here he was ready to start having an honest conversation with you, and you were too busy with this mysterious ‘no one.’ He hated being this way, but he couldn’t deny that he felt a sense of protectiveness over you.

He watches you throw your phone on the bed, the giddy smile still on your lips—perfect lips, soft delicate lips he’s thought about kissing on multiple occasions. With your back to the window, you remove your shirt and toss it to the chair before you begin sliding your pants down. As much as Toji would love nothing more than to watch, he has enough decency to look away, he’s not THAT much of a pervert.

He reaches into his back pocket, depositing the contents beside him.

First is his cellphone which he text Shiu–I need to borrow a few of your tech geeks.

The second, is a sealed envelope. No address, no street names or numbers. Just 3 words written in delicate script:

il mio agnellino

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dubious-writing · 2 months

Note

🖤 For whoever you're feeling.

🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

This was too much power to give me anon. Sorry it took so long. Also I really hope you’re an hrpf fan because that’s what I wrote. If you wanted a pairing from a different fandom, message me again!

But until then: have 1,071 words of Dewvorce

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

They were supposed to have more time. As much as they could get their hands on, which they assumed would be plenty, would be enough.

Turns out it was nothing at all.

It was probably stupid of him, but he’d held out hope until the very end. Ignoring all the rumors and the questions from reporters and the looks from their teammates they think he didn’t notice full of a pity that was too early to acknowledge. Ignoring the extra large carry-on containing too many clothes for just a quick back-to-back trip. Ignoring the steely resolve in Brandon’s face hiding away the pain just behind it, the set of his eyebrows betrayed by the clench of his jaw. Call it stupidity, call it ignorance, call it naivety.

Call it whatever you like; if nothing else, the hope had been there until the very end, through everything. If nothing else, that bravery is something to be proud of.

Their time together had seemed endless, a long sprawling trail, untouched, built only for their feet to walk on, a red carpet rolled out into the future just for them. Now, their time together can be counted in only minutes, the seconds ticking by one by one in the ticking of the wall clock in this barren hotel lobby.

Connor knows the rest of the guys have already said their goodbyes, their well wishes, clapped Brandon on the back preemptively and promised to keep in touch. They’ve been doing it all week where they think he hasn’t been able to see, where they think he wasn’t watching. They should’ve known it was all in vain; where Brandon goes, his eyes follow.

So they’re alone, here, in this nondescript lobby, not another soul in sight. Even the receptionists at the front desk could sense what a private moment this was and made themselves busy in some back room. The only sounds are the ticking of the clock, the shift of Brandon's palm on the handle of his bag, the slight sniffle in Connor’s nose as he tries desperately to keep his emotions in check. It feels like his heart is being cleaved out of his chest, bits of broken bone and pieces of flesh spilling onto the tiled floor beneath them.

Finally, after an eternity and instant, after not nearly enough time at all, Brandon shifts his weight between the balls of his feet. He takes one tiny step back, raises his hand to rub at the back of his neck, tightens the grip on his suitcase. The Wild green sands of their hourglass have run out.

“Dewey, I gotta…”

And Connor knows. He knows. This isn’t something he can stop, this isn’t a game he can throw his body into trying to get the win for the boys. This was a loss he looked straight in the eyes and never saw coming. There have been a lot of those this season.

The worst part, he thinks, is that he really did think they had all the time in the world. And if you have all that time, what’s the rush in voicing things already known and understood, when you know you’ll have another chance at it later?

There are no more chances.

“Brandon, you– I…”

“It’s okay,” and Connor didn’t think his heart could break anymore, but looking at Brandon’s smile, the edges trembling and cracking, he thinks it may have been kinder to just stomp the fleshy pulp of it into the floor. “I know.”

He has always known, hasn’t he, all these years?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

And that’s right, he will. Brandon was traded to the Avs, and the team was gonna be in Colorado tomorrow night anyways. Funny, how these things tend to happen.

Connor can’t bring himself to say anything, let alone a goodbye that would only feel inadequate, so he can only nod once, jerky, because he’s holding onto himself too tightly for it to look natural. Brandon’s jaw clenches again, the muscles in his cheek bulging with it, and nods back. He turns around, pulling his luggage behind him, the clack of the wheels hitting the seams between tiles echoing between them.

But… no. No, that can’t be it. An entire future, barely even started, still a fledgling little thing, weak and without its eyes open, smothered in its crib. Snuffed out in a matter of seconds with no effort at all.

And Connor knows he’s being a little dramatic here, that he will see Brandon again, that they will keep in touch, that neither of them are actually fucking dying (even if it feels like it, a little - a lot). But he can’t let that be it. It’s not fucking fair, and he can’t let that be it.

“Wait– Brandon!”

Brandon turns around too quickly to hide the wetness in his eyes, but it doesn’t matter because Connor’s are no better, and then it really doesn’t matter at all because both their eyes are closed.

As far as first kisses go, it’s fucking shit. Connor’s aim was off center, Brandon stumbling half a step back with the weight of a body crashing into his. Their noses knock and their teeth smash together beneath their lips. It tastes like blood and ash and despair, heartbreak and the death of the life they could’ve had if only they were able to get their shit together. But it’s also a kiss with Brandon - the only one he may ever have - so it has to be good enough.

Kissing your best friend, the guy you think you’ve been in love with for years, as emotionally stunted as you both are, right before he has to board a plane that will take him hundreds of miles away from you for what feels like forever, is not a good idea. As awful and terrible as the world is right now, it would probably have been more bearable if he’d never known what it was like to actually kiss Brandon, if he’d been left to wonder for the rest of his life.

But as Brandon’s bag clatters to the floor, as a hand worms itself underneath the hem of Connor’s jacket, as the other cups his jaw to tilt his head into a better angle, as the kiss softens into something less like anger and more like tenderness, he can’t bring himself to regret it.

#I very nearly added a last line of ‘But Connor doesn’t see him tomorrow’#but I just could not get it to fit #so be glad cos I almost inflicted even more emotional damage on you guys #can you believe I literally JUST started going here??? jfc #connor dewar #brandon duhaime #dewey^2 #dewey2 #what is their official ship tag? someone let me know please #minnesota wild #hockey #hockey rpf #my writing

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lostquinn · 1 year

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Mistletoe

Connor (dbh) x gn!reader

Fluff, clueless

Summery - Connor receives a note asking him to meet someone under the mistletoe, turns out the note was from the one person he wanted it to be, you.

Hoooooo boy it's been a while, my apologies folks! Here's a lil Connor fic that I've been writing to begin to get in the Christmas spirit!

Word count - 1120

Connor thumbed the slip of paper in his pocket, as he had been doing all day. It was nothing more than a simple piece of white paper with a few words written on it in black ink.

The android furrowed his eyebrows, wondering who had left the note on his desk. It was there when he arrived his morning and as he had looked around the office he didn't notice anyone it could be, just someone he hoped it was.

His eyes lingered on you, watching as you filed away paperwork into a draw under your desk. Connor felt as though his thirium pump skipped a beat.

"Jesus Connor," Hank grumbled. "You're acting like a lost dog, what's going on?"

Conner averted his attention from you to the lieutenant sat across from him. The older man was resting his chin on his hand lazily.

"Nothing lieutenant," Connor spoke firmly.

"Nothing? Nothing to do with the detective over there?" Hank nodded towards you.

Both of the men suddenly looked in your direction, pulling your attention from the paperwork to them. First you looked over Hank, then to Connor where your eyes lingered before you smiled, lifting a hand to wave at the men.

"There was a note on my desk this morning," Connor admitted, leaning towards Hank and lowering his voice.

"You're distracted over a note? What did it say?"

"Meet me under the mistletoe after work,"

Hank grinned at the android, raising his eyebrows slightly. He felt a sense of pride, knowing what the note was about.

"Seems like someone likes you, Connor,"

Connor blushed slightly at this statement. "Maybe they just need to talk,"

"If by 'talk' you mean kiss, then you're right." The lieutenant chuckled, bringing a mug to his lips as he took a swig of his coffee.

Hank grumbled as he finished his coffee, looking to the bottom of the mug with a disappointed expression.

Soon, he stood up and left to make himself a coffee. Connor watched him leave, and soon noticed that you were still looking at him.

His chocolate brown eyes met yours from across the bullpen, flushing your face with a dark blush as you looked away. He watched with a slight smile as you searched for anything to occupy your attention.

Connor pulled the note from his pocket and unfolded it. He looked at the handwriting, it was neat but simple and gave nothing away as to who it was from.

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth gently, biting it softly as he thought of you. He began to imagine you writing he note, soon his thoughts drifted to meeting you under the mistletoe.

"Connor!" Hank shouted from over the androids shoulder, breaking his attention away from the note. "Get back to work,"

Connor grumbled back at Hank briefly, not wanting to work while this mystery puzzled him. Soon, he complied and got back to work, looking into the current case he was working on.

The hours dragged on, Connor watched the clock like a hawk as he begged for it to come to the end of his shift. All he wanted to know was if the note was from you. He hadn't thought about what he would do if the note wasn't from you.

Finally, his shift ended. Hank watched as Connor put his things away,, filing away his paper work and rushing to turn his computer off.

For a moment, he glanced over to your desk and you were gone. He frowned. Connor paused for a moment as he looked to your empty desk, everything neat and put away.

"Maybe they're by the mistletoe already?" Hank suggested as he watched Connors shoulders slump.

With those words, Connors face lit up. He looked to Hank for a moment before nodding and heading off towards the mistletoe.

He couldn't recall who had put it up, or who had decorated the police station but someone had completely decorated for Christmas. Tinsel lined each desk, even Hanks, and there was a tree up in the corner.

It brought some holiday cheer into the office and everyone seemed to appreciate it. He had noted how your face lit up the first day you came into work after they had been put up, he had that memory saved and often thought of it.

Connor was watching his feet as he walked to where the mistletoe had been put up. He kept thinking about you, and how he hoped to see you under the mistletoe.

He was finally in eyeshot of the mistletoe. He realised how nervous he felt and closed his eyes, squeezing them shut tight as he pulled his coin from his pocket and began rolling it across his knuckles.

Eventually, he opened his eyes, deciding it would be better to find out then potentially leave you waiting and watching him.

Connor was surprised when his eyes met yours. You were stood under the mistletoe looking at him, a blush covering your face as your arm sat across your body, holding your other arm gently.

He noted how closed off your body language was as he approached.

--your pov--

The android stood next to you, glancing from you to the mistletoe above the two of you. He smiled meekly as he shoved his coin back into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper that you left on his desk this morning.

He unrolled the note and held it out for you to read.

"I'm guessing this was you?" He muttered.

"Yes, it was me- I'm sorry if I'm too forward or anything-" you began, but you were soon cut off.

Connor had placed his hands on your face, feeling the warmth of your cheeks as he leant down to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

As he kissed you, your eyes went wide, staring at him during the brief kiss. You were shocked at how soft his lips were, and how off guard he had taken you.

"That's what you're supposed to do under mistletoe, isn't it?" He quirked his eyebrow, tilting his head at you slightly.

A wide smile spread across your face as you looked at him. Quickly, you grabbing his collar and pulled it down towards you, dragging him down to your level so that you could press your lips against his.

Your face flushed a dark red as you did this, holding him close. It wasn't long before his hands moved down from your face to your waist, innocently pulling you close.

Eventually, you pulled away, needing a moment to breathe. Connor watched with a smile, holding you close as he had always imagined.

"We should do this more often," He smirked.

You chuckled softly "definitely,"

#detroid become human #detroit rk800 #rk800 #dbh connor x reader #detroit become human #connor dbh fluff #hank anderson #writers on tumblr #writing

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candyflossfairy · 1 year

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𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝑜𝑛 — 𝟶𝟸

𝟶𝟸. — 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝘩𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: After a rough day at work, you head back to Hawkins to sign your contract with Steve.

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 18+ only, praise, dirty talking, nipple play, protected sex (p in v), huge cock, cervix stimulation, overstimulation.

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4.3k

After you got home, you started packing up stuff. The boys gave you some boxes they had left over from when Tommy moved out, so it was a good starting point. Knick-knacks and decorations were boxed up and loaded into your car. By the time you got finished, it was four a.m. and you finally decided to sleep.

Your alarm clock woke you at nine a.m. and you slammed your hand on it to get it to shut off. A quick shower later you were blow-drying your hair and getting dressed for the day. Light makeup, jeans, and boots were adorned. You threw on your leather jacket over your Metallica shirt to fight against the cold outside and started your drive to work.

You were thankful you had the early shift today. You’d be done by two to head back to Hawkins. However, you also needed to let them know you were quitting. You felt bad that you couldn’t give them a full two-week notice, but at least you could give them a week to start looking for a new bartender.

Your boss, Connor, was pretty kind about the whole situation. He was excited for you. He even said he would come to one of your concerts should you be in the area. He did, however, warn you of Rudy’s wrath. You already knew. Once Rudy found out you were leaving, he’d be upset.

He never really got over his little crush on you, and since you were moving and going to be on the road a lot, he really didn’t have a chance.

Not that he had one in the first place. Good friend — not so good boyfriend. You’d seen exactly how he treated women he was dating.

Speaking of Rudy, he was coming in right now. You jumped a little, startled by his presence having been lost in thought. The bar was empty, save for a few patrons having a morning beer with Connor’s breakfast.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming in today.” You greeted him with a soft smile.

“I wasn’t planning on it. Just passing by and saw Rudy put the help wanted sign back up. Who’d we lose? Carrie? Oh, was it Mallory? Yeah, I never thought she was going to be here long.” He leaned against the bartop, an inquisitive look on his face.

“Oh—no, actually. It’s uh—it’s me. I got the gig with Corroded.” You gave him a sheepish smile.

He was silent for a while. A little too long for your tastes. You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he thought about what all this meant for you. For him.

“Wow… that’s… wow. Congratulations.” He nodded slowly, but his voice definitely defied his words. He was upset.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll be around for another week-ish. But we’re touring Indiana soon… so I have to go get ready with the band.” This was really awkward.

It shouldn’t be. It was your life, and Rudy had literally no say in anything you did. He was just… possessive? Which was literally insane, now that you think about it.

“Well, when it all crashes and burns, I’ll be here.” He nodded more definitively before patting the counter and turning to walk away.

“Asshole.” You muttered to yourself, shaking your head.

The rest of your shift went rather smoothly and you hopped back in your car to head to Hawkins.

You pulled up to the house and parked, getting out and heading up to the door. You felt awkward for a moment, unsure if you should knock or just let yourself in — no one had given you a key yet, and you technically didn’t live there yet.

You decided a mixture of both, giving a quick knock before you let yourself in.

“Hey!” Steve was the one to greet you, sitting at the dining room table. He had papers spread around him, and glasses on his face. It was…kind of cute, really. You didn’t imagine him needing glasses to read, but the accessory on his face was attractive.

He was attractive; and you’d be living with him soon. The thought made your cheeks flush a bit, and you gave him a wide smile.

“Just setting up everything we need to go over before I get you to sign. I kicked the guys out so we could do this with no distractions.” He stood up. “Would you like something to drink? I know you have a bit of a drive here.”

“Oh yeah, water would be fine!” You stepped over to the table and started looking down at the documents in front of you. It was a little overwhelming, to be honest. There were a lot of them. That was to be expected, though. Paperwork was a whole ass thing.

Steve came back and handed you a glass of water. You took a sip before setting it on the table.

“Alright, I’m gonna do this as simply as possible. There are a lot of big words in these documents, which is stupid, but I promise I’m not trying to scam you or whatever.” He picked up a stack of papers, “This is what is expected of you as a member of the band. None of it is crazy, really. It’s mostly just, you know, showing up on time to rehearsals and shows; but since you’ll be here that’s not a big deal. So if you want to take time to read all of that over, go for it.”

Mama didn’t raise no idiot. You knew to actually read it. So, you took your time, reading everything. Nothing really stuck out to you until you got to the end.

“This is also an NDA?” You asked, confused. “Why?”

“It’s mostly just saying, like… you know, we’re all living together and you’ll hear some things, see some things, that we don’t really want to go public with. It’s nothing huge like drugs. But if someone has a girl over, we don’t want everyone and their mother to know about it, you know? Mostly just…keeping our personal life out of the papers.” He explained.

Well, that made a lot of sense. You could understand that.

You signed the last page and dated it, before handing it over to Steve.

“Alright, next is what you should expect from us slash the record label. This is your pay, benefits, things like that. Obviously this will change as the band gets bigger because more money will be coming in, but this is the base starting pay per gig and time spent in the recording studio. If we get any interviews scheduled this is what you’ll be paid.” He pointed out each of the different numbers and your eyes went a little wide.

Well. You definitely wouldn’t be worrying about money any time soon.

“What are the bills for the house? How does that work?” You asked him.

“We take that into account already. Money is set aside from every gig to pay for the bills, so this number that you get paid doesn’t change.”

After a few more stacks of papers to go through, all of the contract was signed and you were officially part of the band.

"Awesome. I'll get this filed and after that we just gotta get you moved here." He smiled at you, shuffling the papers and clipping them together. "We cleaned out some stuff last night, but there's still things we need to move before we can get your bed and everything in there."

"No big deal. I only got, like, two boxes worth of stuff done last night."

"Well, we can get everything out tonight and rent a moving truck. Probably get you here in two days or so?" He asks, stepping around the table towards you.

You nodded, thinking about what was left to pack. "I can get everything done in two days."

"Cool."

Then, something happened. Something you weren't quite expecting. He touched you. Not in a gross or inappropriate way, but he lightly brushed his fingers against your arm. Goosebumps erupted on your skin, and you turned slightly to look at him.

"You know, I was against the whole…letting a girl join the band thing at first, but I never could deny how fucking pretty you were."

Your face heated up, your head tilting back slightly to look up at him. The air was suddenly thicker, your breath coming out in harsher puffs. You didn't know how to respond, really.

However, Steve was in total control of the situation, his fingers reaching up to lightly brush some hair behind your ear.

"I—um.." You didn't know what to say. "Thank you.." you said quietly, biting your bottom lip.

His eyes searched your face for a long while before he seemed to make a decision. He leaned in slightly, so close you could feel his breath on your lips. This close you could smell him. Spearmint, cigarettes, and cologne. You swallowed thickly.

His thumb gently touched your chin before it slid up to tug on your bottom lip. You would've been embarrassed by your next action if the heat in his eyes hadn't turned up significantly. Your tongue snaked out to swipe against his thumb, and he presses it fully into your mouth.

You sucked on it, your tongue laving over it. His lips parted, and his eyes went a little hazy.

"Fuck—" he breathed out heavily, "That's a good girl." He cooed, stepping closer.

He slowly pulled his thumb from your lips and kissed you without warning. How could you refuse? Nothing in your body wanted to stop him. Not the fact that you barely knew him. Not the fact that you were officially working with him, and definitely not the fact that you were about to live with him.

So what if you had a little fun? What harm could it cause?

In reality, a lot, you thought, but you didn't want to think about it. It had been a long time since you'd let loose and just…let go for a while. For long enough to get fucked, anyways.

Your thoughts left your mind the moment you felt the warmth of his tongue brushing your lip, and you opened your mouth for him, wanting to taste him as badly as he seemed to want to taste you.

His body pressed up against yours, making the swell of your ass push against the table. His hands gently touched your sides as his tongue curled with yours. He was going slow, but he was definitely in charge.

He was making sure you wanted this. Well, you didn't have a single qualm — except…

"When are the others coming back?" You asked breathlessly as you pulled from the kiss.

He scowled softly at the mention, before checking his watch.

"We've still got a good forty-five minutes at least." He answers, his breathing slightly hard, too.

You nod, and press up to kiss him again. His hands hook beneath your ass and he lifts you — a little too easily for your liking — onto the table. He was stronger than he looked, and as your hands slid up his biceps you could definitely feel the muscle hidden beneath his shirt.

He groaned into your mouth as your hands roamed up his arms and around his shoulders. He was appreciating the fact that you weren't shy to take what you wanted.

He pressed himself tightly against you, and you could feel the hard bulge in his jeans. He was bigger than you expected. Not that you could complain, but holy shit you knew you would be sore later.

Your hands slid up the sides of his neck and tangled into his hair. It was soft, despite looking like there was a ton of product in it. You weren't quite sure how he did it, but hell why would you think about that right now?

His hand glided up from your thigh to your hip, and then up the bottom of your shirt. He gently grasped your breast through your bra, kneading it.

"I'm not porcelain," you whispered as you pulled from the kiss. You looked up into his hazel eyes, determined. "You can be rougher. I'm not going to break."

"Oh, honey. You have no clue what you're in for." He chuckled. "Let me take care of you beforehand, okay? Promise we can get to the rough stuff once your tight little pussy has taken all of me."

You flushed at that, heat shooting to your core as you nodded a little too eagerly.

His hand slid out from under your shirt and he helped you take off your jacket, tossing it away before his hands threw off your shirt too. He reaches around you and easily unhooked your bra and you let it slide down your arms.

He looked at you, his lips swollen and wet from kissing and slightly turned up at the edges. "Well… aren't you a pretty little thing?" He hummed, reaching forward to delicately pluck at one of your nipples.

You shivered. Then his hands were on both breasts, squeezing.

"Yeah, these are nice…" he sighed happily. His head ducked down to take one nipple between his lips, and he sucked; his tongue working over it.

Your toes curled as you held back moans, your breathing laboring. Fuck, he was good with his tongue. You could only imagine if it was on your—

"Don't hold back." He told you, standing up straight. "Let me hear those pretty noises, hm?" He grinned, before bending back down to take your other nipple into his mouth.

His fingers rolled the other one between them, and your eyes fluttered as you finally released a moan, your back arching into his touch.

His tongue and his fingers worked in tandem, almost musically. It made you wonder why he was only the manager of the band. You kept that locked in your mind to ask later.

Your core was tingling. You needed to be touched desperately. You pressed your thighs together, rubbing, trying to relieve some of the feeling as much as possible.

Steve never stopped. He kept going; kept working your nipples until you were whining desperately for him.

"Shit, Steve, please." You moaned, tugging at his hair. "I need you, please."

Only then did he pull back and give your overstimulated nipples a rest. He grinned at you, too cocky, as his hands moved down to pluck open the button of your jeans.

You laid back, lifting your hips to help him get them off. Your panties were soaked through, and Steve seemed to find this more than amusing as he cupped your pussy.

"God damn," he sighed. "I can't wait to feel this. I bet you're throbbing in there. Tell me how badly you need me, baby." He gently rubbed you, relieving some of the tingling you felt.

"Fuck, please, Steve. I need you. I need you so badly, please. Please, please, please, please, pl—"

"Okay, okay," he chuckled. "I know you're eager. Lift up those pretty hips for me, baby."

You did, and he peeled your panties off, tossing them away with the rest of your clothes.

He was quick to pull his shirt off, revealing his toned chest and abs, complete with a small tattoo on the left side of his abdomen. You didn’t really give the ink another glance, too caught up in waiting for him to fuck you already.

His hands unbuckled his belt and he was quick to shove his pants down. Your eyes went straight to the bulge in his boxers, but you didn’t have to wait long before he was shoving them down, too.

You almost gasped at how fucking big he actually was. You didn’t know how that was going to fit inside you, and you suddenly understood what he’d meant earlier when he said you had to take all of him. There was a lot of him to take.

“Ah, shit—hang on.”

You barely registered that he was stepping away until he was gone and you sat up, watching him open a drawer in the kitchen. He pulled out a condom and waved it at you, grinning. “Community drawer,” he explains, “Anytime you need one.”

You didn’t think about what that really meant right now. Why would you?

“Just come fuck me already,” You groaned at him, laying back.

“Aww, you can be nicer than that.” He teased, as he stood back in front of you. He tore the condom open with his teeth and rolled it on smoothly.

“Please come fuck me already.” You huffed, reaching for him with your legs.

He chuckled and pulled you by your thighs so the bottom of your ass hung off the edge of the table. He pulled your legs up over his shoulders and your insides quivered. He was going to go deep, and you both knew it.

He licked his thumb, not that he needed to, and reached down between your legs to give your swollen clit a soft rub, his free hand grabbing himself to guide his cock to your cunt.

Your back arched, zaps of pleasure running up your body from the simple touch to your clit. Then, he pulled his thumb away and tapped his thick cock against you.

You swallowed thickly.

“You ready?” He asked, his voice thick with need.

“Yes, please,” You were desperate. You both knew it.

He rubbed the head of his cock against you a few times, the very tip of it slipping in slightly. He was using your juices to lube himself up a bit before he began to press in.

The stretch burned.

You whined, fingers curling hopelessly against the table.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. Just take it, baby.” He inched himself in.

Your eyes fluttered as he pressed further and further in, taking it as slowly as he could possibly manage. You thought he’d stop once you felt a brush against that spongey spot inside you, but he just kept going.

You felt something new you’d never felt before once he was fully seated. It was almost a little painful, it tingled.

He was pressed against your cervix. The thought made your whole body shiver. This was going to hurt at first at any rate, but… no one had ever stimulated your cervix during sex before. You weren’t sure if you should be scared or excited.

Fuck if it wasn’t hot that he was so big though.

He looped an arm around your thigh, pressing his fingers against your clit while his free hand gripped your other thigh tightly.

Then, he started to move.

It was slow at first, pulling out and pressing back in, trying to let you get used to the stretch, to the new sensation of his cock pressing against your cervix. You moaned quietly, feeling as though you were a toy for his pleasure, even if he was slowly rubbing your clit to try and make you feel good.

Slowly, the uncomfortableness began to subside, and you were only feeling pleasure with every thrust, your hips wiggling slightly as his fingers sped up against your clit.

“Faster,” You gasped, your back arching off the table.

He did as you asked, finally picking up the pace. His hand gripping your thigh tightened, digging into your skin. You moaned loudly, knowing that the boys could show up at any minute and find you like this. Find you being used by your manager.

It was fucking hot to think about.

His cock nudged your cervix with every thrust, and your pussy clamped down on him in response, making him groan loudly. His hips sped up and he snapped them a little harder.

Your eyes rolled back as a pressure began to build up inside you. This was a very, very new sensation. You’d had clit-stimulated orgasms before, and even gspot-stimulated ones, but this was different.

You could almost imagine feeling him spill his own orgasm deep inside of you, breeding you.

You moaned loudly at the thought, your hands grasping desperately at nothing until your nails nicked into the soft wood of the table. You couldn’t care if you left marks right now. You felt so fucking good.

“That’s it… that’s a good girl.” Steve whispered to you. “Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.” He groaned, his head tipping back.

Your eyes rolled back at a particularly rough thrust, your mouth wide open in a loud moan.

Your voice pitched a little high as the pressure continued to build and build until you were having a full-body orgasm, your back arching high as your pussy clamped down on his cock. It lasted for a good while, too.

By the end of it, you were so fucking bleary you couldn’t even tell he was still fucking you. He was, though. He hadn’t stopped. The pressure was building up again in your haziness, and you whimpered desperately.

“Steve, please,” You whined. You were so overstimulated, so hazy. He didn’t stop, though. He kept going until a second one hit you and you choked on a moan.

A few more deep thrusts and his hips stuttered to a stop. He was panting, sweat trickling down the side of his face. You barely noticed, still out of it.

You weren’t sure how long it took, but you blearily felt Steve lift you from the table and carry you away. You were placed on a plush surface and covered with a blanket.

When you came to, it was dark outside. You yawned quietly as you sat up, still very naked but definitely in a bed. It smelled like Steve.

You flushed. You’d literally fallen asleep right after.

You stood up on wobbly legs and stepped into the attached bathroom to relieve yourself. Somehow, you were fairly clean, no slickness in sight between your legs. You found your clothes on his nightstand, folded neatly.

Faintly, you could hear talking through the walls. It was too muffled for you to really make out anything, so you put on your clothes and tried to ignore the way your body ached.

He’d really done you in.

You opened the door and stepped out, walking down the hallway.

“ —I just don’t understand why—”

“There she is!” Eddie greeted you first with a wide smile, being the one facing the hallway. “Glad you got a nap in. Steve told us you were tired from working and the drive. You can always use my bed, you know.” He winked.

You laughed softly, trying to play along with Steve’s lie. “Yeah, if I’m anything it’s a hard worker.” You walked further into the living room and took in a deep breath.

“Well, feel free to stay. Gareth is making dinner and we’re supposed to record songs tomorrow anyways.” Steve told you, smiling.

“Yeah, I’ll stay, just —”

“You can sleep in my room.” Billy and Eddie spoke at the same time, before turning to glare at each other.

“Oh, I don’t mind the couch—”

“C’mon, you don’t need to sleep on the couch. Just let one of us crash on it for the night and you can sleep in the room. We’ll draw straws or something.” Billy laughed.

“...alright.” You nodded.

“Dinner’s ready!” Gareth called from the kitchen.

Everyone shuffled in while insisting you make your plate first. So you did; you made two tacos, and piled a good bit of rice onto your plate. You were definitely hungry after…well, your afternoon activities. Not to mention you’d missed lunch.

You all sat at the table together, beer completing the meal. There was a lot of banter between the boys, save Gareth who gave little comments with a sheepish smile, and Jonathan who glared down at his plate while he ate.

You weren’t sure why he hated you so much. What could you do about it right now?

“Hey, are these scratches new?” Eddie asked, rubbing a light colored line in the wood.

You choked on your drink, coughing loudly.

“No, those were definitely there.” Steve nodded, as Billy lightly patted your back.

“I’m fine—” You told him, giving him a smile.

Billy smiled back at you, and you both went back to your meals.

After helping clean up, you let the boys — minus Jonathan — draw toothpicks to see who’s room you’d sleep in.

Billy won and he led you to his room.

“I’m just gonna change and shit, so make yourself comfortable. Also—” He tossed you a shirt from his closet, “You can sleep in that, if you want. You know, to be comfy or whatever.”

You gave him a kind smile and nodded, turning away to give him privacy while he changed.

“Alright, I’m heading out. But if you need anything, let me know. I’ll be on the couch.” He winked at you.

You stared a little too hard at his shirtlessness before nodding. “Thank you.”

“Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight!” You called after him, as he left the room. The door shut behind him and you were left alone.

His room smelled good. You had to imagine it smelled like him. He had a vanity in the corner with a lot of hair products and cologne. He took care in his looks, and there wasn’t anything bad about that. You smiled a little to yourself as you got changed into his shirt and climbed into his bed.

You settled in beneath the blankets, wrapped up in the smell of him. He smelled really nice.

You were half asleep when there was a soft knock on the door and it opened up. You sat up slightly.

“Sweetheart? Hey, just wanted to let you know that I’m just upstairs if you need anything. You know, some water, or some cuddling —”

“Eddie, leave the poor girl alone!” You heard Steve shout from his room.

You laughed. “Thanks, Eddie, but I’m alright. I’ll definitely let you know if I’m in the mood to cuddle, though.”

“Alright, alright. Goodnight.” He chuckled, shutting the door.

You settled back down, and soon drifted off to sleep.

𝑡𝑎𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡: @wh0reforbucknasty @munsonzzgf @feminist-mina-harker @justice4billy

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sjhhemmings · 4 months

Text

Evermore Pt.1

Intro: hi all💫, so I’ve been wanting to write a long series for a while now, but i wanted to establish a footing/ platform with one shots and other content before I attempted this 🥰🥰. I got this idea from watching Chicago PD, it might be a little overused but this is my take on it. I’m hoping for this to be 15-20 parts😅? We’re still in the planning phase so some things are still undetermined. What i’m hoping for is that you guys can give me some feedback/ ideas of what you guys want to see happen, so feel free to let me know in the comments! My messages are also always open! I hope you all enjoy! 🥹💋

Major Character Relationships: Hank Voight/ Daughter!OC, Gabby Dawson(bff), Erin Lindsay(sister/bff), Jay Halstead(bff), (Who she ends ups with is TBA, but she has multiple relationships/ hookups ;)

Love interests: Jay Halstead, Mouse, Connor Rhodes,

Summary: Cassidy Voight is the daughter of ‘dirty cop’ Hank Voight. Cassie takes pride in her multitude of skills and opportunities resulting in her abilities to do (almost) whatever she wants career wise. When Cassie makes the decision to change careers (again), she will soon find out how loyal her ‘friends’ truly are. This story will follow Cassie and how she adjusts to her ever changing connections and relationships.

word count: 2.7k

wattpad: sjhhoran

The date is October 24th, 2012 and Cassie couldn’t have asked for an easier shift. 2 hours away from clocking out and absolutely no calls.

Cassie basically held a knife to everyone’s throats once they got halfway through shift. She couldn’t have anyone jinxing them. Not this late in the game. Threatening them one last time before she decided to turn in, she made sure to get extra comfortable.

But all good things must come to an end. Sleeping like a baby in the bunk room, Cassie gets woken up by the call alarm. Just her luck.

Jumping up in a rush, Cassie sleepily shoved her boots on and ran her hand through her hair.

As Cassie ran out to the apparatus floor, she heard an asortmant of sarcastic remarks towards the candidate. Of course he was the jinx.

“Nice goin!” , “Thanks a lot, Candidate.” , “Great job bud!” Most of Truck 81 said as they were gearing up.

“I knew I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.” Cassie said tying her hair back into a low pony before putting the rig in drive.

“Hey, at least you get to test out your new paramedic certification!” Gabby cheered enthusiastically.

“Yeah, yeah, but you’re still my PIC and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”

“Oh my heart!” Dawson playfully adds as they pull up to the scene.

Analyzing the car wreck in front of them, the girls jump out of the rig and into action.

“This isn’t going to be good,” Cassie says quietly to Gabby as they wheel the gurney to the worse car.

“Happy Birthday.” Gabby mutters back making Cassie’s heart drop. Immediately recognizing the car that’s better off, Cassidy begins cussing under her breath before directing her attention back to the people in need.

“61 to main, we’re gonna need another ambulance.” Cassie calls into her radio once they arrive at the car that’s currently upside down.

After a lot of hardwork, and multiple scares, Cassie and Gabby finally get one of the more stable victims to the ambulance.

“Hey Dawson?” Cassie asked anxiously after shutting the door.

“What’s up? We gotta go-”

“My brother was in the accident. I’m gonna guess he was driving the other car, would you be able to take this one back to the hospital? I really need to see him Gabby. I can catch a ride with truck or squad when we’re done-”

“Go.”

“Thank you. So much.” Cassie says running towards the other car she saw her brother step out of.

“What the hell happened!?” Cassie yells shooing off the officer currently trying to talk to him.

“Ma’am, we need to-” The officer tries to butt in,

“Back off!” Cassie yells earning a stern look.

“3 minutes.” The officer says warningly.

Taking a step closer to Justin, Cassidy pulls his shoulder so he’s fulling facing her. Immediately catching the stench of alcohol on Justin’s breath, she freezes.

“Justin!” She whisper yells finally getting eye contact from his end.

“What?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“What the hell happened?” She asks again hitting his shoulder.

“Just- Get out of here! I d-don’t need you, and you’re s-stupid pep talks right now.” He slurs belligerently.

“You’ve been 21 for two weeks Justin. Two weeks, and you can’t even drive sober on my birthday!? What if you were the one half-dead, hanging upside down over there, hm? You think-” Cassie stops talking at the swift thwap ringing through her ears.

Feeling her hands now on the ground, she registers the stinging metallic taste in her mouth. After a few seconds of gathering her thoughts, Cassidy stands up straight. Touching her bottom lip and looking at her fingers, she realizes she’s the one bleeding. Blinking a few times, Cassie looks back at Justin who’s face is truly blank. Unreadible.

He hit her. He fucking back handed her. Cassie looks down at the class ring on Justin’s right middle finger, now laced in blood. Chuckling a little at his audacity, Cassie turns around slowly because she can’t look him in the face right now.

It all happened so much faster than the slap. She didn’t even feel herself wind up, but she did feel the connection of her fist with Justin’s nose, Justin who is now knocked on his ass. Solely because he’s drunk and doesn’t have much balance. Stopping at the 180 mark that Cassie threw her body in, she goes back around bending over holding her fist.

Looking slowly at her hand that is now purple and swollen Cassie lets out a slow hiss. Probably broken.

“Hey Lady! What the hell!” The officer from before says picking Justin up and walking him over to a nearby bench.

“Cassidy!” She heard an all too familiar voice call out. Too busy nursing her hand to truly turn around and give him the time of day she settles for rolling her eyes.

“Cassidy Jordan!” The voice calls out again, but this time closer and still approaching.

Finally standing up and looking at her father, Cassidy frowns once she meets his eyes.

“What the hell is going on!” His raspy voice yells, making her slightly wince.

“Over here. Now.” He says more quiet this time and walking away. Mindlessly following him Cassie begins walking.

Expectantly looking at Cassidy once they’re in a more private location, Voight eventually scoffs.

Still giving no reaction Cassie frowns at the ground.

“Don’t give me that.” Voight says pointing a finger at her.

“I didn’t even do anything!”

“Right, and your busted lip and probably broken hand lives up to that huh?” He asks with a raised brow.

“Justin is drunk off his ass and caused a car accident, yet you’re over here scolding me for retaliating in self-defense?” Cassie asks trying to turn this around of her father, unsuccessfully.

“I know what Justin is, but you know better. What were you doing over there anyway, didn’t your partner leave?”

“Yeah. But I wanted to check on him at least. He’s a screw-up but he’s my brother that’s a screw-up.” She says crossing her arms and looking away.

“Look. I know this is not the most ideal way to spend your birthday, I get that-”

“Do you though? Do you get that? Because for all we know, this could’ve been reversed and Justin’s car could’ve been the one hanging upside down off a pillar.” She says back at her father.

“Yes. I do know. I will handle it, Cassie.” Voight says unconvincingly at his daughter.

“He fucked up. He’s been 21 for two weeks and this would be considered what? His fourth or fifth DUI? He’s been on this road since he was 15! But this time don’t forget the possible vehicular manslaughter if either of those victims die!” Cassidy finally screams at her father.

“You need to stop.” He says looking around at all of the eyes on you guys, despite being in a private location.

“You need to do something about this, or I will.” Cassie threatens.

“What do you mean, you will?”

“I’m working this scene Dad. I have to make an incident report. You need to let the cops take him in now, or I will say everything that needs to be said in that report. Your choice.”

“Cassidy, you will do no such thing. Do you understand me?”

“You need to let him learn! You can’t be there everytime he screws up to save his ass! He isn’t going to change knowing Daddy’s going to bail him out everytime he gets in trouble. We both know it, so help him.” Cassie finally scolds leaving Voight speechless. It’s not often his daughter talks to him this way.

As Cassie starts to walk away, her father’s voice stops her once again.

“Don’t do anything Cassidy. I mean it. I’ll take care of it.”

Pausing in her steps at his words, she lets them sink in until she keeps walking.

Finding lieutenant Casey to ask him for a ride, she stops behind him and the cop from earlier.

“Look. Detective Voight, behind me - the guy in the jacket. That was his son driving the car.” Cassie overhears the cop tell Casey.

“Voight? Like Cassidy Voight?” Matt asks not knowing you’re behind them.

“Yep. Can’t tell you how many incidents that detectives gotten his kids out of.” The cop now says walking away making Cassie roll her eyes. The only thing Hank Voight has bailed Cassie out of was shoplifting a chapstick in the 6th grade.

“Hey, Lieutentant Casey? Can I catch a ride with 81?” Cassie asks startling Matt out of his transe.

“Where’s Dawson?” He asks now walking away from the car and Cassie.

Quickly following behind, Cassie catches up to him.

“Um, she took one of the crash victims to the hospital. I stayed behind.” She says not disclosing anymore information.

“Hop in.” He says once they reach the truck.

A few days later Cassie still hadn’t heard from her father or her brother, and at this point she didn’t know what to do. Once she got to the firehouse though, she needed to figure it out.

“Voight, Casey, my office now.” Chief Boden said causing the pair to briefly glance at each other before following Boden into his office.

“I don’t have either of your incident reports from the crash last shift. Is there something I need to know?” He asks causing them to glance at each other again.

Before either of them were able to say anything he pointed to his desk, “Get it done. You have until the end of shift.” When Boden glances away from them, Cassie takes this as her chance to leave.

“Cassie, wait up.” Casey said calling after her.

Cassie finally stopped in front of Casey’s room and waited for him to lead the way.

“Okay, you need to explain,” Matt started as Cassie stared at her shoes.

“I don’t know what to do.” Cassie finally whispers, voice slightly breaking.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I love my brother and my father, don’t get me wrong. They’ve been my only family my whole life. Especially since my mom died 10 years ago, but I can’t help but feel so guilty for the other family.” Cassie finally breaks. Tears flowing down her face, Matt stood up to give her a hug before she pushed him away and wiped her tears.

“I told my dad that he needed to do something this time. He couldn’t just bail Justin out, Justin needed to learn. I told him that if he doesn’t then I will, that I will write the report and submit it as the truth. But he shut me down. I don’t know what he would do if I did, I can’t do it, Matt.” Cassie finally says looking up at him.

“Cassie, yes you can. If we both tell the truth in those reports then that family can finally get justice.” Matt said sitting back down at his desk looking up at Cassie.

Taking a few seconds to let his words sink in. Cassie realized she can’t betray her family like that.

“No, Matt, I can’t. I want nothing more than to bring justice to that family I really do. But I can’t be the reason my family breaks. Call me selfish, but I can’t bear the pain of being shunned by the only two people I have left. I’m sorry Matt.” Cassie finally says leaving him speechless. Then leaving his room.

A little while later, Cassie went to go talk to Boden. To tell him the truth and maybe ask for a little advice as to what to do. But to her surprise when she came to his office. She found Detective Antonio Dawson, Matt Casey, and Boden all having a little chat. Knocking on Boden’s door, he glanced at the Lieutenant and Detective before waving her to come in.

“Cassie,” He started but was quickly interrupted by her.

“Chief, I want you to know I’m on your side. I know what kind of things my father has done to bail my brother out of his idiotic mistakes, and I don’t support it. But you guys sitting here and gossiping about my family is a new low. If you guys are planning something, I at least need to know.”

“Why? So you can turn around and tell him everything?” Antonio speaks up earning a glare from Cassie.

“No. So I can help you guys do it right.”

“And why don’t you help? You know what really happened so report it.” Boden says making Cassie glance back at him.

“Look, call me selfish, but they’re my family. My only family. I can’t in good conscious turn my brother in and have my father hate me, but I can’t in good conscious let that family suffer from my brother’s wrong doings. Let me help you guys. That way justice is being brought for that family, and my brother finally gets punished for his actions. But not because of me.” Cassie finally says crossing her arms over her chest.

“Alright, well a buddy of mine who works out of Voight’s precinct said nothing’s come up in witness statements.” Antonio says

“So you’re trying to tell me no one else saw his kid drunk.” Boden adds making Cassie bite her lip anxiously.

“Hell yes, other people saw his kid drunk. But they were other cops who weren’t about to go up against Voight.” Antonio

Still listening Cassie opts to pace in the open part of Boden’s office. It’s what she does when she’s thinking.

“Well I would rather my guy not be the only one with his head above the foxhole on this one.” Boden says to which everyone agrees with.

“Look, and I’m not proud to admit this, but if Gabby were in your shoes for this one. I would tell her to stay out of it.” Antonio says now looking at Cassie.

“The passenger in the other car isn’t going to walk again.” Matt speaks up with news Cassie hadn’t even heard yet.

“Antonio’s right. Going against my father is a death wish. But it needs to happen. Justin is…Justin is sick. He needs help. I think this might be the only wake up call he’ll be able to have.” Cassie finally admits making herself tear up again.

At that a call for Ambulance 61 had Cassie rushing out of the room with an anxious feeling eating her from the inside out.

“Greg Duffy? I guess he was in a car accident the other day that you guys responded to?” Nicki comes in and announces to everyone in the common room. Cassie and Gabby had just gotten back from the call, to which Gabby ignored her for the majority of.

Peaking Cassie’s attention she gets up and follows everyone else out to the apparatus floor.

“Sorry to barge in on you like this, but my wife made this for you guys. We really appreciate what you did. And we know damn well it could’ve been worse If the car had tipped over, so thank you.” Greg says making Cassie’s heart sink as she looked at the beautifully homemade chocolate cake he had in front of him.

“How’s your son?” Matt asks looking over at you then back to Greg.

“Yeah, well…Mikey’s got a tough road ahead of him. But we’re gonna make it. We’re gonna be all right.” He says sorrowly looking down at the fresh cake his wife had baked for them.

“The other reason I came here is, I don’t know if theres anything you guys do in terms of what you saw, or piece together, based on what the accident scene looked like. But, the police report came back saying I ran a red light causing the accident. And uh, that’s, that’s not what happened, and I’m kind of at a loss in terms of how to fight it.”

At Greg’s words, Cassie knew what she had to do. She couldn’t be selfish any longer.

With Casey in Boden’s office they both finished their incident reports with Boden to proofread them after.

“Last paragraph.” Matt said as both him and Cassie hand Boden their papers.

“Visibily drunk. Smelled alcohol on his breath. Saw open containers on the passenger seat,” Boden said looking at Matt then taking Cassie’s paper.

“I can assume it’s around the same thing for you?” He asks to which she quickly nodded.

“Yes sir.”

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gogogodzilla · 1 year

Text

Chapter 14

Summary: You deal with being a hostage, and get your shit rocked yet again ✧ masterlist ✧ ao3 ✧ wattpad ✧ ✧ previous chapter ✧ next chapter ✧

You woke with a start, your cheek pressed firmly into the leather of the backseat of your car. The effects of whatever not-Connor put in your drink were still lingering, and your limbs refused to move.

Not-Connor had his gaze fixed straight ahead, and snowflakes pattered against the windshield. You wondered where he was taking you. He’d taken off the outfit he had on earlier and returned to his, no— Connor’s, usual outfit.

Your eyes shifted to look at the clock across the dashboard which read 10 o’clock. Damn, you’d been out for a while.

The feeling was slowly ebbing back to your limbs, and you wiggled your fingers. Your movement stopped when you noticed the cool metal pressed against your wrists. The bastard handcuffed you.

You ran through tonight’s events in your head, as you rolled onto your back. It started great with you being reunited with Connor, and you got to hug him. Very great when you kissed him. Although it wasn’t really him. Just an imposter.

Not-Connor’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror before returning to the road, “You’re awake. Good, we’ll reach our destination in about half an hour.”

“Where are we going?” Your mouth felt like sandpaper as you croaked out the words.

“The Cyberlife tower,” came his curt reply.

You furrowed your brows, and your head lolled to the side to look at him, “Why are you doing this?” He was silent for a few moments, and you figured he was ignoring you.

“I have to stop the deviant from accomplishing its mission,” he replied.

The whole situation felt ironic, in a way. One RK800 stopping another RK800 from completing his mission by claiming it was his mission. It made your head spin. You assumed that whatever Connor was doing at Cyberlife was big. Big enough that they sent someone to stop him.

“Were the handcuffs really necessary?” You asked as you lifted your bound hands, the light from the passing streetlights catching on the shiny metal.

“I received the RK800’s memories, which drew me to conclude that you would put up a fight,” he asserted.

You hummed in response. You figured that you probably would’ve attacked him, crashing your car, and killing you both in the process had your hands been free and you could actually feel your legs. Maybe it was better that you were handcuffed.

“Why did you kiss me?” The question was rolling off your tongue before you could stop it, and you pressed your lips together.

Not-Connor was silent from the front seat, and you continued, “I already drank the tea, there wasn’t any reason to kiss me, but you did.”

He glanced at you in the rearview for a moment before returning his gaze to the road. “I needed to keep you occupied until the sedative kicked in.”

“There were other ways you could’ve occupied my attention,” you replied before tilting your head, “y’know, for someone who’s supposed to be better than humans, you sure are a shitty liar.”

Not-Connor glared at you in the rearview mirror, and you allowed the rest of the ride to pass in silence. You slowly regained all of the feeling back in your limbs as time dragged on. You sat up in the backseat and Cyberlife tower came into full view. Its bright form silhouetted against the inky night sky. You wondered if it had always looked this phallic or if your dazed mind just now made the connection.

The car rolled to a stop, and not-Connor wasted no time exiting and whipping open the door to the side you were on.

He grabbed you by your bicep and yanked you out of the backseat. You were unsteady on your feet as he dragged you toward a side entrance. Unease settled in your stomach and your breath quickened. There should be guards here. There were always guards here.

He brought you to a side elevator, quickly identifying himself and shoving you inside. At one point in your life, you’d known this building like the back of your hand. The shortcuts you used to take just out of reach in your hazy memory.

Not-Connor brought his hand back to rest on your bicep. You rolled your eyes. It’s not like you could go anywhere. He pulled a gun out of his jacket with his unoccupied hand, and you stiffened. It was your gun. Once again, your own weapon had been turned against you.

The elevator stopped at your floor and the doors slid open with a hiss. Rows upon rows of androids were standing at attention, and your jaw dropped slightly. This is what Connor was here for.

“Move,” not-Connor demanded as he shoved you forward and pressed the end of your gun into the space between your shoulder blades. You gave a nod as you trudged through the rows of androids. As you were about to move down the middle row, not-Connor grabbed you and pulled you closer to him.

Then, you see him. Your breath gets caught in your throat and it’s like seeing him on your doorstep all over again. God, you wanted to run to him.

Connor had his hand on the wrist of another android, the white, plastic shell underneath revealed.

“Step back, Connor,” not-Connor warned as he pressed his gun to your temple and pushed you farther out into the open, “and I’ll spare the doctor’s life.”

Connor’s head turned to face you, and his LED flashed an angry red. His eyes widened as they jumped between you and not-Connor.

“I’m sorry, Connor,” you called out, “I should’ve known better.”

“It’s okay,” he assured, and you gave him a small nod.

Not-Connor shoved the barrel of your gun into your temple, “Your friend’s life is in your hands… Now it’s time to decide what matters most.”

“I used to be just like you. I thought nothing else mattered except the mission,” Connor replied, his gaze never leaving yours, “but this human showed me I could be something else… That I could be someone!”

You shifted your head slightly to look at not-Connor; his jaw was clenched, and he tilted his head to the side. “Very moving, Connor… But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I intend on doing.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” you urged.

Not-Connor’s anger came to a boil, and before you could blink, not-Connor smacked your gun against your temple, and you crumpled to the floor.

He leveled the gun at the back of your head, and you blinked rapidly, attempting to clear your vision. “What’ll it be, Connor?”

You brought a hand up to the side of your head, immediately pulling it away with a hiss. Crimson covered your shaking fingers, and you wrinkled your nose. This was getting old.

“Alright! Alright, you win,” Connor stepped away from the android and raised his hands. Not-Connor rolled his eyes before aiming the gun at Connor.

Without thinking, you launched yourself at him, grabbing onto his wrist and elbow and shoving them up toward the ceiling. A deafening pop sounded next to your ears as the gun went off. You were vaguely aware of one of the lights cracking as you wrestled for your weapon.

Not-Connor stumbled slightly before righting himself and grabbing the back of your neck. With one flick of his arm, he threw you to the side and you slid against the tile floor, nearly bumping into one of the androids in the row. He aimed the gun at you.

Connor crashed into not-Connor in an instant, sending the gun flying. The androids engaged in a vicious exchanging of blows. Your eyes scan the floor, frantically looking for the gun.

There.

The gun laid a few feet away from you, and you scrambled toward it, not even bothering to get on your feet until you’d secured your weapon. The handcuffs dug into your wrists slightly as you rose with the gun cradled in your hands. The familiar weight providing some semblance of comfort.

“Enough!” You shout at the two androids tangled together in hand-to-hand combat. You cursed yourself as they slowly rose from their position on the floor. You had no idea how you were going to tell them apart. Shit.

You furrowed your brows as your aim shifted between the two androids, “One of you is my partner, and the other is an asshole. Question is, which is which.”

“Ask us something, something only the real Connor would know,” one of the Connors suggested, and you bit the inside of your cheek. God, this was so fucking cliché.

You let out a huff before pointing your gun at the Connor on the right, “Where did I go to school?”

“You graduated from Yale University with a GPA of 3.96, and you remained there to complete your Ph.D. Your doctoral thesis was on ways to successfully integrate androids into society,” the Connor replied.

The Connor on the left’s eyes widened, “He uploaded my memory…”

Your gaze shifted between the two androids, and you ground your teeth. Was he trying to trick you into thinking he was shocked or was he actually surprised?

You pointed your gun at the Connor on the left, “What did I say about your uniform when we got lunch?”

“That Cyberlife wanted me to dress as offensively as possible,” he replied quickly, his mouth quirking up slightly.

Your aim remained on Left Connor, “What are my parents’ names?”

“Erica and James. They purchased a household android who you named Amelia when you were twelve. She helped take care of you when their careers kept them from home,” the Connor paused, his gaze softening, “One day, when you came back from school, Amelia was gone— replaced by a newer model. After that, you dedicated your career to saving androids in any way possible and cut contact with your parents.”

You sighed, grip tightening on your gun, “No one deserves to be discarded like that, least of all androids.”

“I- I knew that, too!” Connor on the right called out, “Don’t listen to him, I’m—”

You swung your gun to aim at the other Connor and pulled the trigger.

Not-Connor collapsed in a heap, and you let out a shuddering breath as relief filled your body.

Connor took a few hesitant steps toward you, “Are you alright, Doctor?”

“Yeah, get me out of these cuffs, please,” you requested as you held your hands up, the corners of your mouth turning up.

He gave a curt nod before heading to not-Connor’s corpse and retrieving the keys out of his jacket. Connor was gentle as he unlocked the handcuffs and tossed them aside.

You practically jumped into his arms as you engulfed him in a hug once your hands were free. He quickly returned the hug, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

You reluctantly pulled away, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Doctor,” he replied, taking in the wound on the side of your head with a frown.

You grabbed his hand, and brought it to your lips, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. You have a mission to complete, don’t you?”

“You’re more important than any mission,” he murmured before pressing a kiss to your forehead. You flushed and gently pushed him away.

He sent you a wink as he grabbed ahold of the android’s wrist once again.

He released the android and turned to you, “I’m going to help Markus, and it’s going to be dangerous. But, this is what the revolution needs in order to succeed.”

“I’ll meet you there, then,” you stated, a grin forming on your features.

Connor let out an exasperated laugh, “I think you’ve gotten into enough trouble tonight.” You raised your eyebrows and placed your hands on your hips.

He sighed at your refusal to give in, “Just… Be careful.”

You grinned and leaned in to adjust his tie, before pressing a haste kiss on his cheek, “It’s a date.”

The tides were turning, for better or for worse.

#dbh connor #detroit become human #connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh rk800 #chapter 14 #no y/n #reader insert #criminal analysis

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mackenzielovee · 2 years

Text

parenthood part eight: resolution

a/n: hi <3 can't wait to hear the thoughts and thanks in advance for reading! hope you enjoy!

warnings: swearing, crying, fighting

ambivalence masterlist , parenthood masterlist

You wake up alone. Normally, this is not the first thing you notice because it happens every morning, but with the way you’d fallen asleep with Rafe wrapped around you, it becomes more noticeable.

When you glance at the clock, you already know where Rafe is in his day. He’s already gone for his run, and he’s now upstairs with Josie, giving her a bottle. With a sigh and part of you wishing he was down here with you, you get up and hop in the shower.

Rafe goes into the office today and you will work from home with Josie while Connor is at school, but the thought of him leaving you just feels off. The thought of being apart from him after the way yesterday went has your stomach twisting under the warm water.

When you emerge from the bathroom, your robe tight around you, you find Rafe laying on your side of the bed with Josie seated on his chest. You give him a small smile, one which he returns before looking back at Josie.

“Say good morning to Mommy,” he encourages, “Say hi, princess.”

She just coos, making you laugh. You move to pick her up and he releases her, watching as you kiss her cheeks.

“Good morning, sweet girl,” you smile at her.

She giggles and you kiss her nose, watching her smile widen. When your eyes shift over to Rafe, he has a grin plastered across his cheeks.

“I love watching you with our kids,” he confesses, then swallows, “You still mad at me?”

You shrug, balancing Josie on your hip. Her hands claw at your robe but you ignore it, letting her do as she pleases.

“I don’t know,” you decide.

He sighs and stands from the bed, sweat from his run lining his forehead and wetting his hair. You swallow at the sight, not wanting to admit how much you love seeing him after his runs.

“I’ll drop off little man today,” he says, stepping closer to you, “It’ll give you a break, and give me time to scout out Nicolás.”

You groan, “Rafe–”

“I’m gonna shower. I made coffee for you. Should still be hot.”

He presses his lips to your forehead forcefully, then hurries to the bathroom before you can try to argue.

You listen to the door shut behind him and sigh, using Josie’s sweet face to make you smile. Knowing you don’t have time to dwell on it, you take Josie and head upstairs to find Connor and usher him into clothes while Rafe gets ready for work.

Rafe emerges from your bedroom fully dressed and ready for work while you remain in your robe, packing a lunch for both Connor and Rafe while Connor eats breakfast.

“Hey, buddy,” Rafe greets Connor, “I’m gonna drop you off at school today, is that okay?”

Connor grins and stands up on his chair, “No way!”

“Yes, way!” Rafe laughs, “Sit down and finish your breakfast.”

He kisses the top of Connor’s head as he obeys. Josie, who is laying in her baby base on the counter beside you, gets several kisses from Rafe as he makes his way over. He pulls back from her when she giggles, smiling at her.

“Hi, princess,” he says to her, “Can I take you to work with me today? You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

You snort, “Your father would snatch her the second you walk in the office.”

Rafe grins, knowing it’s true. He stands up straight and grabs your hand, stopping you from finishing Connor’s lunch. You lick your lips and turn to look at him, watching as he brings your hand up to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to your skin.

“Josie wants to know if Dad’s gonna be on the couch again tonight,” he says quietly, a slight teasing tone present in his voice.

Your lips tip up, “That doesn’t seem to matter, considering you made your way back in last night.”

He steps closer to you with a smirk, holding your hand against his chest and charming you with his eyes.

“Please, baby?” he whispers.

Your mind is already made up, but you love watching him squirm. With a deep breath, you slowly begin to nod your head.

“Okay,” you agree, watching him grin, “As long as we sleep like we did last night.”

“Yeah?” he teases, stepping closer, “You like when I hold you like that?”

You move to respond, feeling heat blossom across your cheeks, when Connor stands up on his chair again and looks over at the two of you.

“Daddy, is Mommy gonna put a Zebra Cake in your lunch, too?”

Rafe laughs and looks down at you, tipping your chin up so he can meet your eyes.

“Are you, Mommy?” he snickers.

You roll your eyes and playfully swat at his chest, turning back to the almost finished lunches in front of you.

“Yes, baby, I will,” you answer Connor, who goes back to his toast.

Rafe leans down and kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck. You let out a short laugh and teasingly try to get him off of you, even though you don’t really want him to stop.

“I don’t think I said a proper good morning,” he mumbles against your skin, “Can I make it up to you?”

“Rafe,” you sigh, “I really have to finish these before you go.”

“Just give me a kiss. I always get a kiss in the morning.”

You turn and peck his lips, laughing when he protests and tries for more. You nudge him away, and when Connor announces that he’s done eating, Rafe reluctantly steps away from you to take care of him. You put Connor’s lunch in his backpack and watch as Rafe collects his keys and tucks his wallet into his pocket, then squats down to help Connor put on his shoes. You walk his lunch over to him and when he stands, he takes it from you with a grin.

“We should go,” he murmurs, “Connor, give Mommy kisses.”

Connor steps forward and takes your hand, pulling you down to his level. You smile and give him a quick kiss, then wrap your arms around him.

“Have a good day, handsome,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he replies.

You pull back and kiss his nose, “I love you.”

“Love you, too, Mama,” he smiles.

You give him another squeeze and then stand up, finding Rafe saying his goodbyes to Josie. When he turns, he gives you a mischievous look and tucks an arm around your waist, pulling you in.

“Do I get goodbye kisses?” he asks innocently.

You laugh, “I guess.”

He grins and presses his mouth to yours, keeping it short enough, but longer than your initial kiss. You shake your head at him once he pulls back, reaching for Connor’s hand so they can go.

“Love you, baby,” Rafe calls over his shoulder.

“Love you, too,” you reply.

He steals one last look at you before ushering Connor out the door, closing it softly behind them. You exhale and bite your lip, unable to believe you already miss them. Instead of dwelling on it, you refill your coffee mug and take Josie into your office so you can get to work.

The alarm system beeping at the opening of a door in the house draws you from your work. You glance at the clock; it’s only been an hour since Rafe and Connor left. Your body tenses, even though you know the garage door was closed and the doors were locked when you came in here. Before you can panic, Rafe moves into the doorway of your office, and you let out the breath you’d been holding.

“What the hell?” you question, glancing back at Josie, who’s bouncing happily in her exersaucer.

He looks mad, you realize. His jaw is clenched tight and his eyes are dark. His left hand grips his car keys and his right hand is tucked behind his back.

“Guess who I ran into?” he asks you, his jaw ticking.

You spin around in your chair, “Who?”

“Nicolás,” he grunts, then walks into your office, stopping a foot from your desk. His right hand comes out from behind his back, holding a small bouquet of carnations, “He brought these. For you. Imagine his surprise when I showed up to drop our son off at school.”

Rafe throws the flowers down on your desk, bringing his hand to his hip. You sigh and puff out your cheeks, exhaling slowly as your hands meet your face.

“Rafe–”

“Don’t defend him,” he interrupts, “Bringing a married woman flowers crosses a line.”

“He’s just being–”

“So help me, if the word nice comes out of your mouth–”

“What do you want me to say?” you yell, standing from your chair and facing him, “It’s not like I led him on. I didn’t do a damn thing other than host a parent in our home for a few hours. Coming in here and acting like I’m the one at fault is childish.”

He laughs, and it practically drips with sarcasm. You watch his chest puff out as he breathes in, trying his best to stay calm. He exhales, letting the silence linger before he speaks, keeping his voice dangerously low.

“You don’t even see it, so you?” he chuckles, “Y/N, you don’t have to try. You don’t have to flirt or even consciously do anything. It’s just you. You’re fucking intoxicating as hell, and this guy would be stupid not to recognize it.”

You roll your eyes, “So, what? What do you want me to do, Rafe? How do you want me to handle this? Because I’m sick of my husband acting like a jealous teenager.”

He shakes his head, laughing to himself at the entire event. You cross your arms over your chest, your eyes beading into his to try and get an answer.

“I have to get to work,” he says, breaking eye contact, “We’ll talk about this later.”

He turns to walk away, to leave, but you stop him with a question.

“What did you say to him?”

You watch as he shifts his body, turning halfway around, just enough to look at you.

“I told him you’re happily married, and I’d appreciate it if he didn’t bring my wife flowers again,” he says, his voice somber now, “Then I told him that you hate carnations.”

He closes your office door behind him, even though it was open when he came in. You lay your head down on your desk and sigh, listening to the alarm system beep again, and Rafe slam the door as he exits. You toss the flowers in the garbage the second he leaves.

Rafe texts you once during the day, telling you he’ll be picking up Connor from school. You’re still working when the boys get home, and without a word, Rafe comes into your office and takes Josie out. You try to ignore the ache in your chest when the door closes behind him, putting all your focus into the remainder of your work day.

When you come down, Rafe has Connor at the table eating dinner. He silently points to a plate wrapped in foil on the counter, which you heat up and eat. Rafe remains quiet for the remainder of the evening; giving Connor his phone to play on while he lays back in the armchair with Josie on his chest. The only words you hear him speak are to her. When she starts to fuss, he picks her up and kisses her.

“What do you want, princess?” he asks her quietly, “I’ll give you anything.”

You swallow down the lump in your throat, wishing you were cuddled up beside him in the chair. He steals a glance at you and you look away, keeping your eyes down as he rises with Josie to get her a bottle.

He goes upstairs to feed her, leaving you to pretend you’re watching TV in peace. Connor cheers to himself at his video game from where he’s laid out on the floor, and you’re grateful for the smile it gives you.

After a bit, you take Connor upstairs to bed, leaving Rafe’s phone on the coffee table. When you come back down, he’s nowhere to be found, and you assume he’s still in with Josie. You’re sure tonight will be just like last night, where he’ll be waiting for you on your bed, ready for another round of fighting before one of you ultimately decides to go sleep elsewhere.

Your heart tumbles in your chest when he’s not waiting for you after you emerge from your shower. His pillow is gone, you notice, and your eyes flutter closed to stop any tears from rising at that.

You dress yourself in shorts and his shirt, then crawl into bed, refusing to cry. You lay there, wide awake, listening to the soft hum of the living room TV through the wall. You hear it when it stops, and you can just picture him laying back on the couch, one arm tucked under his head. Water lines your eyes at the image, making you turn and face his side of the bed. You run your hand across the sheets, feeling how cold they are. How unused, how worthless the king size bed feels with just you in it.

Half an hour goes by before you can’t take it anymore. You stand and grab a blanket from the edge of your bed, hurrying out in the living room before you lose your bravery. Rafe’s eyes are closed and his back is pushed against the cushions, leaving just enough space for you to crawl in. Which you do.

He hums to life when he feels the couch dip, but you already have your back to him and can’t see his expression. You don’t say a word, not knowing what will fix this, but knowing you need him right now. He must feel the same, because his arms are quick to wrap around you, pulling you against him and warming your entire body. Your eyes immediately fall closed when you feel him brushing your hair to the side, leaning down to plant a kiss on the back of your neck. Neither of you speak, but you know you don’t have to. The way he pulls you in and rests his chin on the top of your head tells you how he loves you.

When you wake in the morning, he’s still with you. You let out a breath of relief at that, at the feeling of his strong arms remaining around you. A part of you wants to snooze more, just because you’re wrapped up in him. The other part knows you can’t do that.

You turn in his arms and find him already wide awake, his eyes drifting down to yours once he can see them.

“Hi,” he whispers, his voice raspy.

“Hi,” you reply, “You didn’t go out on a run.”

He shakes his head, “My wife needed me to hold her.”

You draw your bottom lip between your teeth and turn all the way around, letting your hand meet his cheek. His eyes close under your touch, having needed it so much yesterday.

Your index finger traces over every line, every curve, every inch of skin you can touch. His lips curve up and you smile at that, hoping that somehow, this moment will last.

“I was frustrated yesterday,” he says, his eyes still closed, “That’s not an excuse to be an asshole. I’m sorry.”

Your hand travels to the back of his neck and up into his hair, letting your nails scratch his scalp.

“Rafe, I love you. No temporary shit, okay? I love you forever. Don’t let some guy push your buttons.”

He nods, “I just don’t like the idea of someone having feelings for my wife. Or thinking our marriage is disposable.”

“I understand,” you whisper, “But we know that it’s not. Isn’t that all that’s supposed to matter?”

He pulls his eyes open and you watch his throat work. His eyes are red, and you realize he’s kept them closed because his emotions were coming out.

“Yes,” he whispers back.

You smile, “Tell me you love me.”

“Baby,” he narrows his eyes, “You know I love you. More than anything. Except those two little humans we made.”

“I love you, too,” you remind him, “That’s what matters.”

He nods and pulls you closer, letting his lips meet your forehead. You tuck your head into his chest and clench his shirt in your fist, wanting him only closer. Just as you two get comfortable, you hear those little feet coming down the stairs, and you can’t help but smile.

“Can I have Eggos for breakfast?”

Rafe laughs, and the sound vibrates through your ears, making you grin.

“How about you say good morning first?” Rafe teases him, “And give us hugs.”

Connor makes his way down the remaining stairs and walks over to the couch, crawling up and over the two of you, placing himself firmly in the middle.

“Morning, Mama,” he whispers, “Morning, Daddy.”

“Morning, handsome,” you greet him.

Connor’s preschool is closed on Wednesdays, meaning Rafe is the only Cameron to be leaving the house today. After an hour or so of laying together on the couch, he groans and gets up, taking a quick shower and dressing for work. He gives you a slow kiss before he leaves, promising to be home right on time so you two can continue that. You just laugh and watch him go, feeling more relaxed than ever, knowing the two of you will be together in bed tonight.

Wednesdays quickly become your favorite, because you get to work with both of the kids at home. At first, you weren’t so sure how that would go, but Josie is an easy baby and Connor switches between his toys and the TV, so you can focus on work without feeling overwhelmed. The doorbell rings around noon, drawing you out of your groove. You pick up Josie and step out of your office, finding Connor mesmerized by the TV in the living room. You smile at him and then hurry over to the door, pulling it open and widening your eyes when you see Nico on your porch.

“Hey,” he smiles, “Sorry to bother you. Do you have a minute?”

You freeze as your brain screams different commands at you.

Absolutely not. Rafe would be pissed.

Just hear him out. Maybe he’s having real trouble.

He probably just needs a friend. You can’t shut him out because of Rafe.

Shouldn’t Rafe’s feelings trump anyone else's?

You stutter for a second, finally settling on, “Um, yeah.”

You don’t invite him in. You grip Josie tighter and stare at him, waiting for him to say whatever it is he needs from you. His eyes settle on your baby girl and he smiles, giving her a little wave. She grins and collapses her head on your chest, making you smile before you can help yourself.

“I, uh – I wanted to apologize,” he says, tucking his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, “For the flowers. That was lame. I just, y’know, you invited us into your home and you were kind enough to talk with me, and I wanted to thank you for that.”

Oh. You give him a genuine smile, because that explanation sounds innocent. He’s lonely, and he wants a friend. Just like you told Rafe.

“It’s okay,” you promise, “That was very kind of you. I was sure you didn’t mean to overstep.”

He nods, “I didn’t mean to upset your husband.”

You notice his correction of your previous statement, and a hint of doubt gets planted in your mind by that. What exactly does that mean? Obviously Rafe would’ve seen the flowers even if you’d been the one to receive them. He would’ve been upset either way.

“He seems to think you’re into me,” you test him, forcing a laugh at the thought.

Your heart drops into your stomach when Nico doesn’t immediately reject the idea, instead, nods his head.

“Maybe a little,” he admits, “Would that be so bad?”

Your lips part in shock, your jaw hanging open. Rafe was right. After your insistence that Nico is just a good guy, and that he just needs a friend, you find out that’s not at all the case. You’d fought this battle with Rafe for nothing.

You shift Josie on your hip, bouncing her as if to calm yourself. Your jaw clenches shut as you try to form a response, one that won’t sound too harsh.

“Nico, I’m married,” you remind him flatly, “So, yeah. It is bad.”

“Well, yeah,” he laughs before he can help himself, “But, I mean, I saw the way you swatted his hand off of you when he touched you. I just thought that, maybe–”

“Maybe nothing,” you snap, “I love my husband very much, and our marriage is none of your business. I’m sorry that you’re lonely, but I am most definitely not an option for you.”

His face falls, and you watch as he backs up a step. You want to urge him to keep going, to tell him to never come back, but you stop yourself. Daniel is still Connor’s friend, and you want the boys to remain that way.

“Right,” he says sharply, “Okay. Got it. I’ll back off then.”

“I think that’s wise,” you say.

He clears his throat, “Do you still want to get the boys together on Friday?”

“We promised them,” you answer. He nods slowly, waiting on you to direct how that will go after this, “Let’s meet up at the park. They can play there.”

“All right,” he agrees and steps off the porch, “Sorry to bother you.”

You just nod once, then step back inside and close the front door. You bring Josie to your chest for a hug, exhaling at the thought that you’re going to have to tell Rafe. As much as you dread that, you’re ready to put this behind you completely and move forward.

No more sleeping on the couch. No more half-asleep apologies. No more missing out on kisses or hearing him tell you he loves you. You’ll listen to him next time, and that will be that. Because he matters to you more than any of these other people should.

You’re seated on the couch when Rafe comes through the door. Connor is in the playroom and Josie is laying in her pack ‘n play. Your eyes close as you listen to his keys hit the counter, followed by his wallet, and then hear his footsteps grow closer.

“Baby?” he calls from the doorway, glancing over and finding you on the couch, “Hey, what’s up?”

You peel your eyes open and give him a small smile, nodding your head for him to come to you. He can tell instantly, you know he can, and he’s quick to sit down beside you and place a hand on your thigh.

“What’s going on?” he asks, “Where’s Connor?”

His eyes are on Josie, who is happy as can be at the sight of her dad. You shake your head, trying to maintain your composure even though you can feel the tears coming.

“He’s fine, he’s playing,” you explain.

“Then what is it?” he questions. He reaches and tilts your chin up so you’ll look at him, laughing when you protest.

“I have to tell you something,” you practically whine, “And I’m afraid you’ll say ‘I told you so’.”

His brows furrow, “What if I promise not to?”

“That would help.”

He laughs and tucks your body in closer, letting his thumb stroke the skin on your arm to calm you. You know you’re being pouty, but you don’t care, because this entire conversation is just going to be one big ego stroke for him.

“Talk to me,” he demands gently, adding, “Please.”

“Okay. But you have to wait until I’m done to say anything,” you tell him.

He grins, “Scout’s honor.”

You roll your eyes, not being able to help the smile he brings to your face. He laughs when he sees it and kisses your temple, encouraging you to speak.

“Nico came here this afternoon,” you start, feeling him immediately tense, but remaining true to his promise, “Trying to apologize for upsetting you, I think. And I jokingly told him you think he’s into me, and he–”

Rafe’s body tenses even more when you stop, sniffling as you try to keep it together. Even though he promised, he’s too wound up to care.

“He what?” Rafe practically growls.

“He didn’t deny it,” you finish, “He admitted it. You were right.”

You feel his body relax when you finish speaking, wondering if that’s it. If that’s all that happened. When you don’t try to say anything else, he cuts in.

“What did you say?”

You toss your hands in the air, as if that’s the most unbelievable question in the world to you. He should know what you said already.

“I said that I love you,” you say, as if it’s obvious, “And that I’m not an option for him. And that our marriage is none of his business.”

Rafe grins, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you pout, “But, Rafe–”

“Sweetheart–”

“No, let me finish,” you hold your hand up to stop him, “He implied that our marriage wasn’t strong because I took your hand off of me when you touched me. I know that bothered you, and I’m sorry. I really didn’t think anything of it when I did it, but apparently it meant something to both of you.”

He smiles sadly, letting his fingers stroke your skin as if just to prove he can. You let your head fall down on his shoulder, breathing him in. Because you can.

“I know you didn’t mean anything by it,” he says softly, “I know how much you love my hands on you.”

You scoff, “Be serious.”

“I am,” he laughs, “Why the tears, though?”

“We’ve been fighting for two days because I didn’t believe you,” you explain.

He sighs, “Sweetheart, as frustrating as it was, I love that you only wanted to see the good. I just wanted you to believe me, too.”

Your tears build until you turn and bury your head in his chest, letting him laugh lightly as he pulls you closer. His hand rubs up and down your back, comforting you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your words muffled by his shirt. You pull back and look up at him then, finding a small smile on his lips, “I’m sorry I didn’t. I’m sorry I even fought with you about it. I should’ve respected what you wanted from the beginning.”

“I’m sorry I was a dick,” he replies, “I just want to keep you safe. Keep you mine.”

You pull back and meet his eyes, furrowing your eyebrows and pouting your lips. Sometimes, you wish he could read your mind, just so you could show him how much you love him.

“Always,” you mumble, “I should’ve trusted your judgment from minute one.”

“Not necessarily,” he shrugs, “I didn’t trust yours. And that’s not an insult, it’s just a difference of opinion. We’re bound to have those every now and then.”

You smile, “So you still love me?”

He rolls his eyes playfully and shifts, grabbing your waist and pulling you on top of him. You giggle when he nips at your neck, pressing a kiss to the spot right after.

“Still, forever, always,” he mutters, “Take your pick.”

You pull back and cup his cheeks in your hands, taking a second to admire him as you did this morning. He gives you a teasing smile, one that has you dying to kiss him. So, you do. Because you can. His hands roam shamelessly as he kisses you, wanting you closer and closer and closer.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper when you pull back, lips puffy and pupils dilated.

“Stop apologizing,” he commands.

“I’ve missed you.”

You see his eyes soften and you practically melt right there in his lap, knowing instantly that he feels the same way.

“I’ve missed you, too, baby,” he says, his voice weak, “Promise me we’ll handle it better next time.”

You nod, “I promise.”

He sits up and kisses you one more time, then relaxes and lets you settle in on his chest. His hand moves through your hair and down your back, stroking all along your body.

“You know we have two kids to feed,” he says, laughing against your head.

“Just a few more minutes,” you plead.

He kisses the top of your head, “Whatever you want, baby.”

You close your eyes and lay there, letting his scent calm you. As much as you don’t want to, you replay the fight from the first night, trying to remember the reasons Rafe cited for knowing Nico was into you. Suddenly, you laugh.

“Did Topper really want to have sex with me when he was sixteen?”

Rafe laughs loudly, “Shit. Yeah. I was supposed to take that to the grave.”

You sit up and gape at him, “He never tried to. Not once. He was always just my friend.”

He nods, pursing his lips as if he knows something you don’t. You nudge his shoulder with your hand, demanding he tell you.

“Yeah, because I called dibs. Same reason Kelce never would’ve actually–”

“Rafe!” you exclaim, “You called dibs?”

“Obviously,” he shrugs, “Look how well it worked out.”

“Oh, my God,” you sit back on his legs, “You were obsessed with me, Cameron.”

“Still am, Cameron,” he fires back, a smirk lining his lips, “I also threatened to beat him up if he ever came onto you.”

“Was that before you started lifting weights?” you tease, “Because, honestly, your arms were, like, super small–”

“Excuse me?” he raises an accusing brow.

“Like, paper thin–” you tease, shrieking when he stands and turns you both over on the couch, pinning you under him.

“Is that why you never looked at me?” he questions playfully, “You wanted a big, strong man, right?”

He pinches your hip, and you squeal, giggling uncontrollably.

“Rafe, you pant, and when he stops, he sees the seriousness in your eyes, “I wish I could go back.”

“I don’t,” he answers you, “It’s our story. I don’t want to change a thing.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he confirms, “Even if you had me looking like a fucking lost puppy at every party. Just made it that much better when you finally looked my way.”

He laughs when your lips move into a pout again, and he kisses it off. Before you can respond, Connor’s voice rings through the house.

“Mommy, your phone died! Can I go get Daddy’s?”

Rafe sighs and sits back, pulling you up with him. Connor rushes into the living room and waves your dead phone in the air, as if proving what he’d just said.

“Here, bub,” Rafe says, pulling his phone from his pocket, “Can I have a kiss before you run off with my stuff?”

Connor laughs and rushes over to Rafe, who leans down and accepts Connor’s short kiss. You’re surprised when the boy turns to you and smiles, making your heart swell.

“Kiss, Mama?” he asks, already stepping toward you.

You grin and reach out, pulling him into your lap and listening to him squeal.

“How about five kisses?” you joke.

“Four,” he reasons just for the hell of it.

“Fine, four,” you reply.

He turns and smiles up at you, giving you four kisses. He giggles when he pulls back, but makes no move to get up from his seat. Instead, he makes himself comfortable in your lap and types Rafe’s password into his phone, powering up his favorite game.

Rafe stands from the couch and plugs your phone into the charger resting in the nearest outlet, then crosses the room to grab Josie.

“We’ll make dinner,” he tells you, leaning down to kiss your forehead and then press his lips to your right ear, “And I’ll accept dessert later.”

You smile and shake your head as he disappears off to the kitchen, grateful that everything is out in the open, and that you don’t have to worry about a damn thing anymore.

Tags:

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ankhmutes · 8 months

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A Charming Journey Home (SOA) chapter 6

Minors, please do NOT interact with this work. Sorry. The fun filth is under the cut, as always. Thank you for encouraging me and following with me on this journey. As all journeys must, they come to an end. At least, for now. This is the end of a Charming Journey Home.

“Let’s take her back to the club. Gemma can help.” Chibs said as he leaned into his burner phone. Tig kept his arms around you, encouraging your deep breaths. “Gemma? Yeah- we got a package coming your way. She’s okay but- the prospects got her jeep.”

“I gotta stay- finish the shift. Can someone just pick me up?” you found yourself asking, not wanting to face what might happen. You wanted to wrap yourself up in the safety that was your boys. “Filip, Alex– please??” you found yourself asking, never quite having used their actual names until now. It was almost like breaking an sacrament.

Things were put in motion and the night was a blur to you. You didn’t quite wake up or come back fully to yourself until you were driving up to T&M, seeing Gemma outside broke you slightly- you always had a soft spot for the matriarch.

“Gem.”

“Darling girl.” she whispered, holding you in her embrace for a moment, while Chibs and Tig looked around, making sure the compound was all clear. It was almost unnecessary, but you welcomed the action.

“I heard everything.” she said succinctly as she guided you back into the clubhouse, your boys walking past you with a slight embrace, off to see Clay and make plans. You let out a long sigh and nodded. “I bet you want the kids- I sent juice over to make sure they’re okay.” you thanked Gemma for her thoughtfulness, and she was succinct with her parting words, shooting you a knowing look "Bad shit happens to greedy whores." You took a few hours to yourself to relax and put everything to rights. You didn’t want to scare your parents or the kids with more stories about the Sons, or any of that club stuff. But somehow, you felt like everything was kind of on repeat, it was as if Connie was back.

Connor.

You hadn’t thought about him in months. Now it was almost as if you were back in Ireland. You allowed yourself to relax into the couch, your arms around the twins, your oldest leaning into your legs from his seat at your feet, the faint beeping sounds of his game system keeping you faintly tied to this world. You knew they understood the gravity of the situation, but at the same time you felt safer here in the clubhouse than out there.

“Bedtime, let’s go.” you found yourself saying as you blinked up at the clock. The kids silently obeyed you, trotting off to a room that Gemma had claimed for you and the kids, you put them to bed efficiently and once they were asleep, you went back out.

You couldn’t help yourself. You had to know what was going on. You had promised yourself you’d stay detached, but you had to know. Your space had been invaded, and you wanted to know what you were up against. Standing up tall, or at least as tall as you could with your petite frame, you moved confidently towards Chibs’s room. He was more likely to be straight with you, you had a feeling that Tig would try to protect you more, but Chibs, he had been through Ireland as well, and you knew he would understand.

“Chibs?” you asked, knocking on the door. You didn’t want to walk in on him if he had a girl with him, even if the thought made you twitch slightly. You heard him moving around, and then he opened the door to you.

“Okay, what?” he asked, a brow lifted in a knowing gesture. You moved past him, turning to face him and he shut the door.

“So what’s gonna happen now?”

“We gotta some work t’ do.” Chibs said in a slight huff, smirking as he sat himself heavily down on the bed. “There’s some stuff gonna go down this weekend… thanks t’ ya friend. Amanda pissed off some people, that’s what. She took herself down there and sold herself to another club.”

“What?” you said with a startled expression on your face. It couldn’t be Amanda, that sold the Sons out to that club, but at the same time……

It was Amanda. It was a shit thing she’d do, she’d wanted to be part of the club so long and they had denied her for so long. You fell back on the bed, your hands over your eyes as you tried to think but you couldn’t. All you could do was keep your eyes closed, your mind spinning from Chibs to Amanda, and back to Chibs and Tig. You listened to Chibs outline what Amanda had done, and how it had fucked everything up. Thanks to you, though, the Sons would be able to salvage something of their operation. Chibs’s hand slid up and down your thigh as you listened to him, your head still spinning but for different reasons. His hands felt so good, solid, and calming. He grounded you, and kept you from going into a tailspin, freaking out six ways to sunday.

“Don’t stop.” you found yourself murmuring, his hand stilling slightly up at the crux of your thighs, where the thick denim felt like nothing, you could feel his warm hand burning into your leaky slit.

“Darlin’ say the word.”

“Filip.” you whispered, arching your back to him.

He moved quick as lightning, hands moving quickly to remove your jeans, everything below your waist disappearing as if you had only to think of it, and it would happen.

His rough mouth slid over your moist heat. You could feel the warm slick of his tongue prodding through your wet folds, licking up every drop you produced, and your thighs held still, your breathing grew hoarse.

“Filip, please.”

“Please what, Lass?”

“Don’t stop.” you whined as Chibs coaxed orgasm after orgasm from you, your legs trembling and stomach contorting with each spasm of pleasure that shot through your body. You could see stars, and you floated along the edge, and then you felt his warm heat nudging at your thighs.

“Y’ need this, princess?” his voice coaxed, his face coming up to yours, his mouth inches from yours as you could feel the heat burning you through.

“Why you askin’ I told you not to stop.” You said with a half-laugh, catching your breath long enough for him to laugh sightly as he leaned forward, filling you up to the hilt with his thick cock. You felt filled up and complete, as if something had slid in place.

It didn’t last long, with the man above you, filling you and his movements were slow and sure, but you knew he would do this again- and again- and again, as long as you would allow him. He was your Filip, and you had welcomed him with open arms. You turned slightly, his rough kisses sliding from your mouth down to your neck, his mouth working your throat and back up, until you couldn’t help it anymore. You sobbed out his name, wrapping your legs around his waist and forcing him further up inside you, squeezing his cock with the immense wave of pleasure that you felt each time he moved inside you.

“Stop being a fucking tease, and fuck me.”

“Ah–!” you heard your name, strangled out as he slid out of you, hot come spilling at your entrance. He plowed through you, his hands at your shoulders, holding you close to him. Your heartbeats slowed, and your breathing grew more even.

You and Chibs cleaned up, you looking at yourself critically in the mirror, wondering if it would leave a mark, or not, but you didn’t care. The small bruise would be easy to explain away. You opened the door, and laughed at Tig, who was lounging at the door.

“Private party?” he asked with a slight pout.

“I saw Venus eyeing you earlier.” you said with grin, winking at Tig. “I know you’ve been chasing that for awhile. I figured– she’s a good gal, and I think you need a shot at that alone.” Chibs moved behind you, closing the door and latching it. “Filip, he’s done a good job of making sure I’m okay. He’s got my lucky charms.”

“Well, you know who to call when he can’t perform.” Tig winked saucily at you, kissing you on the mouth, tasting the warm heat that Chibs had imprinted on you with his rough kisses hours earlier. You and Chibs followed Tig back into the clubhouse public area, listening to the croweaters twittering over the recruits, and you sat with Gemma at the bar, listening to Gemma and Jax, your kids sleeping in Gemma and Clay's room close by as the members relaxed in the living quarters of the clubhouse in the late hours of the night.

You were home, you realized with a jolt as Chibs went behind the bar and poured you a shot of whiskey, with a can of coke fizzing open. Your heart grew three times its size at the moment your eyes met your man’s over the whiskey.

You were fucking, finally, home.

#Ankhmutes writes something #A Charming Journey Home #sons of anarchy fanfiction #chibs imagine #chibs x reader #Tig x reader #Tig x venus mention #filip telford #chibs telford #tig trager #soa #Ankh writes something

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 2 years

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A STUDY IN YOU, chapter fourteen

table of contents | talk to me & join the tag list | the playlist

March 13th, 2019

The door clicked shut behind Sophie, her footsteps faded down the hall when Jason turned to see you. His hands were in his pockets, tie loose around his neck when a dimple appeared on his cheek. “Well, there’s that.”

“She’s not going to tell anyone,” you waved him off quickly, stretching out on the sofa. You were too drunk to have a serious conversation at this time of night.

“I know,” he laughed, still standing in the center of the room. “But she is a character.”

“She is,” you agreed, reaching for the glass of water once more. Another sip, he watched in silence and you wondered if the weed was a good enough excuse to say your thoughts out loud. You took the chance.

“So--you didn’t like Connor.”

His eyes met yours, unreadable like he couldn’t tell if you were challenging him or just observing. When you let your head fall back against the cushions and your eyes closed, he laughed a little, coming to sit beside you.

“I don’t know Connor.”

“You didn’t seem to like him,” you opened one eye and watched him for a sign of emotion. His elbows were on his knees, he stared off into space and the clock on the wall ticked to remind you that graduation was hurdling closer with every second.

He looked over at you now, caught you looking and smiled. “You’re allowed to date him.”

This brought you back to the same solar system. You sat up quickly, your eyes bugged out of your head. “What?”

He shrugged, unsure why this caused such a reaction.

“I just met him tonight--”

“He was obviously interested in you--”

“He’s Max’s little brother!”

“--seeing as he wouldn’t leave you alone all night.”

“You’re the one who was rude at the end of the night to him.”

Both of you were more emotional now, a charge in your words that hadn’t been there before. “Because he seemed to think that you’d end up going home with him.”

“So you were jealous,” you said it quickly, a nod to confirm that your suspicion was true--with or without his input.

He blinked a few times, shrugged a shoulder and fought the smirk that threatened to rat him out. He stood from the couch and turned, offering his hand to help you up. “Forgive me for thinking that I’m the one you go home with.”

With one look he’d managed to shift courses, avoid the tension that was mounting and defuse the bomb of uncertainty that beeped somewhere in the distance. You laughed a little, felt the thumping in your chest when he nodded towards the bathroom. “Wanna shower?”

March 24th, 2019

He waited on the sidewalk, texted mindlessly when you tried to get your mom off the phone.

“Okay, mom, yeah—I’ll let you know.”

Your aunt’s birthday, a girls trip to New York, you could take them to the museums!

You’d check your calendar and get back to her, but your lunch break wasn’t the time for this conversation. You promised to call later, smiled apologetically when you turned back to him and started walking. Over toward Bryant Park, a left turn when he asked.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “My mom’s planning a trip to town, she’s got a lot of questions.”

He glanced over at you when you crossed the street, a nod to your shared midwestern roots. “Sounds about right.”

“What are you in the mood for?” You looked up to a neon sign overhead, gyros, falafel, chicken wings.

He slowed, looked inside the windows of a dine-in option. White table cloths and polished servers and he shrugged: why not?

Unexpected but you allowed it, followed him inside and read over the menus and listened to the specials. Your brows didn’t raise in surprise until he ordered a bottle of champagne.

He played it off with a shrug once the waiter departed. “You know, for your birthday.”

“Not this again,” you rolled your eyes, hesitant to give too serious of a reply.

“Not this again,” he repeated your words and rolled his eyes in jest. “Relax, okay? It’s a business lunch.”

Delated. You hid the disappointment on your face when the waiter reappeared with two flutes and the bottle. You watched as the bubbles raced towards the surface, smiled in appreciation and lifted a glass, just like he did.”

Awkward, and both of you knew it. Somewhere along the line the lines got more blurry and now you were six months in and playing pretend didn’t always feel so pretend, somehow. He cleared his throat.

“Here’s to twenty-eight.”

“Right,” you forced a smile.

He shifted in his seat at that, kept your gaze for a second before he asked: “are you upset with me?”

Your forehead wrinkled with confusion, the sip of champagne slid down your throat and you almost coughed in surprise. “What? No. Why--why would I be?”

He shrugged, almost like he wished he could backtrack now that he’d seen your reaction. He smiled a little, let his head tilt from side to side when he hesitated. “First I didn’t know it was your birthday, didn’t tell you about the core faculty thing, then it felt like I did a good job of pissing you off the other night--” he glanced around quickly when he realized the conversation topic was risky for such a public setting. “Regarding, y’know, Max’s brother.”

Ah, the moment you’d been waiting for: when he set you up for a slam dunk totally casual response to remind him that two could play whatever game he’d been playing for so long.

“It’s fine,” you said quickly. “And the core faculty thing is none of my business.”

Right? Right.

His eyebrows rose at that, he took another sip of champagne and nodded. “Well, Dean Vasquez let me know today that everything should be finalized by the end of the semester and next year it’ll be official.”

You couldn’t help but grin, you leaned forward and put your elbows on the table. “You deserve it,” you nodded, a soft smile. “I’m really proud of you.”

He squirmed a little in the metaphorical spotlight, made a face like it was no big deal. “To twenty-eight and promotions.”

You listened to him talk about it, smiled at the excitement in his voice after you both ordered. The comfort and ease between you felt reassuring and confusing all at once, how did that one kiss land you here?

And better yet, how were you supposed to address whatever this was and whatever it meant when in a few short months your dynamic would shift again?

He reached for his wallet after a while, you didn’t have forever and there’d already be too many questions about what took so long and where you’d eaten.

But you couldn’t let him pay for this like it meant something, couldn’t let yourself feel that level of hope or excitement. “You don’t have to pay,” you grabbed your own wallet, “let me split it with you.”

“Y/N, it’s fine,” he smiled.

“No, I mean it--”

“It was your birthday,” he reminded, eyes expectant as he waited to see how you’d challenge him.

“Yeah but,” the words pushed past your lips and landed on the table with an awkward thud. “You don’t have to care about that.”

He shrugged one shoulder, simple, quietly, like he didn’t really know what to say except for the truth. “But I do.”

You shook your head, a reminding smile: “you’re my advisor.”

“You’re my student,” he nodded, comfortable with the words and labels and…now he was on to you. “And I know I shouldn’t play favorites, but--can’t always help it.”

Your face felt hot, he caught your eye and smirked, handed his card to the waiter and then read an email from Charlie outloud. You walked back to 30 Rock, tried your best to shed whatever glow the lunchtime longing had left on your cheeks.

But you were metaphorically fucked. The constant push and pull had slithered into your brain and having sex with your professor was only half the problem.

The other half? Deciding what to do about it.

April 5th, 2019

Your phone was buzzing over and over in the pocket of your jeans. Not a phone call, not emails. Texts. And at this frequency, you knew without checking that it was Max in the group chat.

After what felt like the millionth notification you slid it out and eyed it, careful not to distract from the final presentation that Shayna Hillbringer had undoubtedly worked so hard on.

The classroom was dark for Shayna’s presentation and the semester was winding down. For third year graduating students, the start of April also meant the beginning of the end: final projects and papers and job applications as you hurtled toward the unknown.

Which is why, on this particular Friday night, you were sat in Jason’s classroom listening to Shayna ramble on about her experience working at an advertising agency.

It was fine. She was nice enough and the presentation was good enough. But of course you couldn’t focus with your phone blowing up as if the East Village was on fire.

Max Prescott (6:13pm): I’m hungry

Max Prescott (6:14pm): Are we doing anything tonight?

Max Prescott (6:14pm): Anyone want to grab dinner?

Sophie Mendez (6:14pm): I’m down! Finishing up stuff on set though, be done around 7

Naomi Halter (6:15pm): I just got home from work

Naomi Halter (6:15pm): You guys can come here! Take out?

Max Prescott (6:16pm): omg ok, let me get my life together

Max Prescott (6:16pm): Y/N????? Are you ditching us for daddy?

Sophie Mendez (6:16pm): Lmao (i’ll come when I’m out)

Naomi Halter (6:17pm): She has class, right?

Max Prescott (6:17pm): Yeah she does

Max Prescott (6:17pm): With daddy

You were about to thumb out a scathing reply, rub it in Max’s face that he was merely jealous of the fact that you were getting laid and he wasn’t.

But another text appeared at the top of your screen.

Jason Sudeikis (6:17pm): Can you at least pretend to pay attention?

You looked up at him quickly, but his eyes were already back on Shayna and her slide about storyboards for short-duration advertisements. What an ass.

You figured it’d be best to ignore all of them. Anything you replied to the group was just adding fuel to the fire, and replying to Jason’s text felt, well…not worth it. You decided that giving him a dirty look the next time he glanced in your direction would be good enough.

So you put your phone on do not disturb and did your best to stay focused. Shayna’s presentation finished early and for that he dismissed you all with ten minutes to spare. You took your time packing up, tried not to make it obvious that you, without a doubt, would be the last student in the room.

Maybe the others were somewhat aware of the relationship you had with him. Not the sexual one that happened behind closed doors (or in his office), but the mentor-mentee dynamic that this all stemmed from in the first place.

You congratulated Shayna on the completion of her coursework, loitered in the corner when she collected a graded rubric from Jason. Eventually the room thinned out and you were too buried in your phone to notice.

Y/N L/N (6:52pm): Just getting out of class, I can come by and hang for a while!

“Did you even catch a word she said?” He was eyeing you now from across the room. He slipped his laptop into his messenger bag and smirked, waiting to see what type of reaction he’d get.

“I was paying attention--but I had Max being a pain in my ass in the group chat.”

“I looked over there and you were reading that thing like a novella,” he teased.

You took a few steps closer to his desk in the corner of the room, offered a challenging smirk when he leaned against the side of it.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to go all professor on me right now.”

“Lest we forget that’s my actual job title,” he joked. But he wasn’t finished. He looked up at you now and shrugged. “I can’t let you get away with everything.”

“Well, professor,” you tilted your head to the side. “I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

He laughed, reached for his jacket that was slung over the back of his chair. “I’ll let it slide this time.”

“Good,” you chuckled. “I don’t do well with punishment.”

His eyebrows quirked at that, you immediately rolled your eyes at the dumb look on his face. “I mean from teachers.”

“You don’t strike me as the kind to get in trouble too much,” he sat on the edge of the desk now, amused by where this was headed. “You give off way more of a goody-two-shoes vibe.”

“Hi--” Shayna’s voice caused both of your heads to snap towards the door. “Sorry--I just--I realized I left my thumb-drive on the podium,” she took a few awkward steps into the room, the look on her face told you she was confused by the distance between you, or, really, the lack thereof.

Jason cleared his throat and stood, suddenly back into the version of himself you’d become less familiar with the more time you spent with him. “No problem--we were just talking about Y/N’s project.”

Shayna smiled, almost like she knew his explanation was more for himself than for her. She held up the thumb-drive to show she’d been successful. “Have a good weekend,” she waved over her shoulder.

Once she turned down the hall you both deflated, Jason blew a puff of air from his mouth and rubbed at the base of his neck. “Okay--well, uh--I also am, you know, heading out.”

“Right,” you smirked a little, why was it a turn on to see him so flustered?

He caught your eye for a second but shouldered his bag. “Are you--uh--leaving too?”

“Yeah,” you threw a thumb towards the door. “I’m heading to Naomi’s.”

“Oh,” he nodded. “Then I won’t invite you for a drink.”

You walked with him now towards the classroom door with raised eyebrows, intrigued by his sudden change in demeanor. “You were going to invite me for a drink?”

He shrugged, “Maybe. But you have plans,” he smiled.

“I do,” you confirmed. “And I’d never hear the end of it if I ditched them for you.”

He laughed, turned left with you towards the elevators. “Wouldn’t want that.”

So you waved awkwardly once you were outside the main doors, gave the vague promise of we’ll talk this weekend. You figured that neither of you knew why, but you both knew you would. Somehow, someway, for some reason. Maybe you just liked each other.

But that thought felt too real and too wrong and the subway ride to Naomi’s left you sitting in silence on a crowded train with nothing but your own thoughts.

They had a glass of wine waiting for you once you pushed the door open, a movie on and pizza on the counter. When you sunk into the couch beside Max, he turned to see you.

“Guys…can I have some advice?” You said quickly, pouncing on the opportunity when Naomi looked over at you. Sophie grabbed the remote and paused the movie, Max straightened up and kept his eyes on you.

You laughed a little, apparently this was out of character. After a pause for dramatic effect, you admitted: “I have no idea what’s going to happen with me and Jason after we graduate.”

Silence. Max looked to Sophie, Sophie looked to Naomi.

Naomi shrugged, eyes wide at your confession. “What do you want to happen?”

There it was. The same question that had been circling your consciousness for months and weeks and days on end. You traced the pattern of Naomi’s sofa.

“That’s a loaded question.”

Max crossed his legs. “You’re still going to work with him, so--things are still…off limits, right?”

“They’re a lot less off limits as co-workers than as professor-student,” Sophie held up a finger.

“Right, I mean--he had a meeting with Charlie last week. Said NBC should get me my offer letter by the end of April.”

When you first kissed him you didn’t expect to wind up here. You never expected that you’d have any reason to see him post-grad and you certainly didn’t ever think you’d be his co-worker.

“You might hate me for saying this,” Naomi prefaced. “But somewhere along the lines it feels like this became a lot more serious than anyone thought it would be.”

You stared at her, nervous. “...What do you mean?”

Sophie and Max wondered too.

“Well, you guys are apparently having sleepovers now,” she looked over to Sophie. Of course Sophie had immediately filled Max and Naomi in. “Like, regularly.”

“Twice,” you said. Wait. No. “Three times?”

Max’s eyes doubled in size, hearing a number slapped on there made it all real. “And you guys haven’t talked about after graduation?”

“No,” you said honestly. “Only in the work context.”

Sophie had been quiet. Her eyes were narrowed and you knew--based solely on the look on her face--that the wheels were turning. “Do you want to stop sleeping with him?”

The real answer was no. Of course not. But the responsible, mature, graduating adult figured that something like this might be better left in the past.

“I don’t know.”

“Elaborate, please,” Max pushed. That wasn’t a good enough answer.

You let out a dramatic sigh. “I mean, I like hooking up with him. I like spending time with him and you know, the sex is really good.”

They all liked that answer, smiles spread across the room but you held up a hand. “But it feels--” you stopped.

“It feels what?” Sophie asked, eager to hear where you were going.

“How am I supposed to bring this up to him? Admit that maybe I have some emotions or feelings about…him…or us, and--see? I don’t even know what to say! All of that would freak him the fuck out.”

Sophie was unimpressed, her mouth hung open like she thought you were being fucking stupid. “Aren’t we past the stage where you try not to spook him? You know, pretend you’re more normal than you are?”

“No!” You said quickly, shocked by her implication. “How would we be past that stage?”

“Because you guys aren’t just casually hooking up anymore,” Max looked at you like you had three heads.

“We’re not?” You asked.

“Did he buy you a birthday gift?” Max asked.

“No.”

“He didn’t do anything?”

“We went to lunch--he got a bottle of champagne. He said it was--I don’t know--partially for my birthday.”

Sophie smirked.

“But that doesn’t mean he has feelings for me,” you defended.

“How often do you guys text?” Naomi asked.

Jesus. You blinked a few times but then shrugged. You didn’t mean to put yourself on trial by asking for some feedback. “Not every day. Most days. Usually about work or school stuff.”

“I’ve literally been there when you guys just text hi,” Sophie mocked you and dropped her voice a few octaves to insinuate romance.

“Well we’re human,” you shot back at her.

“Okay,” Naomi butt in, this was obviously getting off topic and you appreciated the fact that at least one of them wanted to stay on track. “So--you have feelings for him.”

“Is that a question?” You narrowed your eyes.

“No,” Max laughed, then Sophie and Naomi did too.

You didn’t say anything, fought the smile that tried to creep onto your face when you groaned. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?!”

“Talk to him,” Sophie nearly yelled. “Tell him!”

“I would rather fail every class ever,” you decided.

Naomi ignored your theatrics. “Have you guys talked about Cannes?”

“What about it?”

“The fact that he’s basically bringing you as his date,” Sophie wiggled her eyebrows.

“No,” you pointed. “It’s an independent study.”

“That he’s grading,” Max reminded.

“So what?” You made a face at him. “Just because I’m sleeping with him doesn’t mean I get special treatment.”

“Okay,” Sophie let out a sharp laugh, yeah fucking right.

“You probably get some special treatment,” Naomi tried, always more delicate than Soph.

“I mean, maybe,” you said. “I don’t want it, though. I don’t want people to think that I’m the teacher’s pet.”

“Oh, sugar pie honey bunch,” Max cooed at you, a pitying look on his face when he clutched his heart over his sweatshirt. “Everybody already knows that.”

You groaned again, leaned your head back on the sofa and closed your eyes in turmoil. “Nevermind, forget I even asked for anyone’s advice. I will just die here on this couch and--”

“Hold on,” Naomi tried to help everything settle. “Do you think it’s worth it to talk with him about all of this? Like, if you actually want this to be mature and adult-like, don’t you think that’s probably your best option?”

“I don’t know,” you said with a sigh, ready to drop it for the evening. “I’ll think about it.”

April 9th, 2019

He was frowning when you knocked, brow furrowed in concentration before his eyes flickered up to the doorway.

“Hi,” you said quietly.

“Hi,” his eyes trailed down your legs and back.

You hadn’t texted with him over the weekend, decided to give him some space and take some of your own. There was also the petty and dumb part of you that was waiting to see if he would text you. Most of Sunday was spent avoiding your phone and the sad reality that he hadn’t.

Besides, you had Naomi’s words playing on loop and other final projects to finish. You spent Monday on set of another NBC show, counting down the minutes until you’d get to hop back in the writer’s room and do what you actually loved.

So on Tuesday you figured you’d test the water.

“I know we don’t have an appointment or anything,” you shrugged in the doorway. “But, I wanted to see if you had a minute to just look over the first draft of my paper, it’s just the analysis of Sarai’s first two features.”

He leaned back in his desk now, nodded when he outstretched his hand for the paper in yours. Staples in the top left corner, you’d already marked it up on the subway with corrections and edits but figured his input would only help. You know, seeing as he’d be grading it anyway, just like Max had reminded.

You shut the door behind you, let it click into place as you sat across from him. He looked at the paper quickly, then back at you. “Can I get it back to you tomorrow, or even Friday, maybe?”

“Sure,” you nodded, wondering how far to push. Something was obviously up. “Is, uh, is everything okay?”

“Yes, yeah,” he nodded, bringing a finger to his lips. “Just have a lot of papers to grade for one of my undergrad seminars and have a meeting with Charlie later today to get an update on casting decisions.”

Things had been moving along with the show. The executive team was put together, auditions had started and some rolles already filled. Cameras were supposed to start rolling in June, hopefully.

You stood and kept his gaze, smirked a little when you rounded his desk and sat on the edge, right in front of him. He smirked up at you, reassuring when he stood and let his hands hold onto your thighs. “Just a shitty week.”

“Well, I know something that might make you feel better,” you purred, hand grazing the outline of his cock beneath his khakis. He smirked a little, leaned forward to let his mouth find yours.

The same explosion of excitement, warmth pooled in your belly and your hands reached up to pull him closer. He smiled into your mouth, let his fingers trail up towards your panties. You let out an eager moan, one that squeaked from the back of your throat when his thumb came into contact with your clit, still separated by fabric.

But then he pulled back, cleared his throat and wiped his lips. A smudge of your lipstick on his mouth, he could see it on his hand and shook his head.

“Sorry,” he panted. “I, uh--I just don’t know if we should right now.”

He stepped back from between your legs, the same skirt you wore that first time he used his fingers. The wood of his desk was still cool on the backs of your thighs, he brought his eyes to yours and looked guilty.

“Okay.”

“Sorry--”

“It’s fine,” you hopped down and licked your lips, arousal still coursing through you when you shrugged.

He walked over to the other side of his desk, seemingly deep in thought before he swiveled. He eyed you for a second, hands in his pockets, hesitant.

“Can we talk for a second?”

You nodded, lips slightly parted when your heartbeat climbed. Oh fuck.

“I think we should talk about Cannes.”

Had you accidentally left him a 15-minute long voicemail that recorded your entire conversation with your friends? You played dumb. “...What about it?”

He glanced up at you quickly, the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile, immediate relief when you realized he wasn’t angry or upset. “Well, about both of us going on this trip.”

“Right,” you nodded obediently. You were following.

“And how obviously it might be fun to, you know, hang out in Cannes—“

“But,” you watched him.

“But we have to be really careful.”

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“I just don’t want either of us to, I don’t know, get in trouble or look bad and after Friday when Shayna almost saw us--”

“We weren’t gonna have sex right there in a classroom,” you smiled a little, challenging his anxiety.

“I know,” he said, still serious. “But, this is all still really fucking risky no matter how much we like it or how normal it is now.”

You digested his words, nodded slowly when you watched him. He was clearly more worked up than you--and in a different world, maybe you’d have asked him why or what you could do to reassure him.

You also wanted to be smart. You didn’t want him to lose his job and the fact that you’d made it this far without getting caught was almost impossible to believe. But the topic of conversation needled you, he was still in the center of the room and you were still unsure how to broach the question that seemed to hover over the vintage rug in his office.

You didn’t have answers. You didn’t have anything to say that would manage to avoid what was beginning to feel like a ticking time bomb.

You cleared your throat, smiled at him softly when you shrugged. “We don’t have to…keep doing this if you don’t want to.”

Maybe now was the right time to stop. Graduation, his promotion, it all made sense.

He nodded slowly, let out a defeated breath when he finally cracked a tiny smile. “The problem is that I want to.”

You smirked, appreciative of the way he tipped his hat and gave a peek behind the curtain. Got it. He was as confused as you were.

But there was no way--right here, right now--that you were going to address the elephant in the room. So instead of being brave and saying it all out loud, you took a step closer to him in the center of the room. “Well,” you sighed, eyes flickering to the door to warn of your upcoming departure. “Let me know when you come up with a solution.”

You felt his head turn once you walked away, his eyes watched with intrigue and confusion and excitement. But you kept walking, calling over your shoulder when you slipped out the doorway: “And what you think about my analysis so far!”

April 18th, 2019

You knocked on the door and wondered if Javier was already inside. Some TV show they were both obsessed with, a conversation at work the other day led to an invitation over to Jason’s to watch when they learned you’d never even heard of it. Oh right, Javier had teased. I always forget you were born in the 90s.

He tugged the door open and smiled, stepped aside for you to come in from the cool spring air. “Hi,” he greeted. “Did you see my text?”

“No?” You shrugged out of your coat, hung it on a hook near the door.

“Javier bailed--his baby has a fever.”

You’d seen the text come through but you were already on your way, took advantage of the fact that he’d never uninvite you.

“Oh,” you feigned disappointment. “I must have been too far underground to have any service.”

Whatever. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He smirked and locked the door, “I won’t force you to watch the greatest movie of all time if you’re not in the mood.”

“I came all the way here!” You teased, following him towards the kitchen. He had a glass of wine already poured, you couldn’t help but notice that it was the same bottle--a new one--but the one you said you’d liked at his Christmas party.

Maybe he’d gotten it for you.

“However will you survive an evening with me?” he made a face over his shoulder, handed you the glass of wine that, until now, had been sitting on his counter.

He watched you take a sip.

“What?” You asked.

He laughed a little, “I feel bad that Javier canceled and you came all the way here.”

“Ahh,” you nodded. “Good think we’ve spent plenty of time alone.”

You didn’t mean for that to sound as sexual as you did. A flush to your cheeks when his eyebrows rose. “Yeah?”

“I just mean--you know--it’s not awkward.”

He laughed, shook his head but made his way towards the couch in the living room. You followed behind him, wondered what you’d talk about and if it would eventually lead to fucking him on the couch or even in the kitchen.

“Well, let’s make sure this one doesn’t get back to Dean Vasquez, alright?”

“Hey--at least I’m twenty-eight now.”

He settled onto the couch and looked up at you, amused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Somehow, for some reason, you were bold enough to go there. Maybe it was the wine or the dim lighting or Javier’s absence. “Well, if I was older or if you were younger I think there’d be less scandal,” you shrugged.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, an offended look on his face. “You think I’m old!”

“No,” you laughed. “I mean, you are, but I just think 15 years is significant.”

“Here I was this whole time thinking the problem is that I’m your superior in almost every way,” he said sarcastically.

“That’s the hot part,” you teased, reached over to poke him in the stomach. He shrunk from your touch, grabbed your finger in his hand and held it for a second.

He let it go, let out a breath and shifted beside you.

“I think the age thing is hot too,” he quipped. “I think all of it’s hot, honestly.”

You laughed in agreement. “Yeah,” you nodded. “Me too.”

But he made no move. He didn’t reach a hand over to tease you, didn’t beg to taste you or anything that most of your encounters with him typically entailed.

One episode turned into two and then he turned to you on the couch. “I don’t know if this is weird—“ he laughed a little. A genuinely nervous look in his eyes when he looked up to see you.

“So if it is, let’s just rewind like thirty seconds to the universe in which I never brought this up, okay?”

Now he smiled at his own joke, he knew he’d saved himself from a moment of vulnerability.

“But do you wanna smoke weed?”

Your lips crept into a smile, you tried to fight it when he watched you with an expectant smirk.

“Duh,” you laughed. “Yeah.”

He stood, took a few steps towards the hallway before disappearing behind the door you knew was his. You looked around the dark living room, decorated decently for an early 40s bachelor-pad.

He reappeared with a joint in hand, nodded his head towards the balcony off the window overlooking the street. A fire-escape really, the same one from his Christmas party.

You followed him out and, took his hands when you stepped out and onto the iron structure.

You wiped your hands on your jeans and looked around at the night sky. He stood on the other end of a small landing, held up a lighter and shielded it from the wind.

He took a hit, held his breath and watched you watch a blinking plane overhead. Early April was starting to warm up, you could feel it in nights like these.

He exhaled, you looked over at him expectantly.

“This is my balcony,” he gestured around, laughed at himself when he passed the joint.

“So I’ve heard,” you teased, held it up to your lips and inhaled. You held your breath and counted to five.

He watched and smiled when you coughed a little. “What was your time like at CNN?”

You shrugged your shoulders a little once you’d gained composure. “Fine, great starting point, but being a PA wasn’t for me.”

“Yeah it doesn’t seem easy,” he nodded.

“It brought me to NYU so for that it definitely gets some points.”

He was smiling when you looked up at him. Your heart did a flip so you decided to change the topic: “How’d you end up at NYU anyway?”

“Uh, well—“ he laughed a little, almost awkwardly. “I needed a fresh start in 2013. Had a rough go of it career wise for a bit but I also—uh—I had split up with my ex-wife.”

“Oh,” you nodded, eyes narrowing with intrigue. That was a bombshell. “I didn’t know you were married once.”

Not that it bothered you. But it did feel like a curious detail to disclose after all this time.

He smirked, flicked out the joint and met your eyes. “Yeah, well, up until this year—why would you?”

You laughed a little, brazen and buzzed. “You mean you don’t tell most of your students about your love life or say their pussy’s so wet?”

He smiled wider at that, “I don’t.”

“Got it,” you nodded and smiled. “That’s good to know, like, you know, STD-wise.”

He rolled his eyes at your teasing. “Oh come on,” he laughed. “You say that as if I’m sleeping with every woman in Brooklyn.”

“No I’m not,” you defended, laughing when he shook his head. “I don’t know what you do in your personal time.”

“Well,” he sighed, still amused but more serious now. “It’s not that—I’m not sleeping with every woman in Brooklyn.”

“I’m glad,” you admitted. “Being one of many would make all of this less cool, for sure.”

“Oh,” he nodded, eyeing you suspiciously. “So being younger than me and feeling special is what does it for you.”

You watched as he took another hit, smiled a little. “You mean to tell me that you wouldn’t be pissed off if I told you I was sleeping with Will too?”

He couldn’t speak, held an inhale when he tried not to laugh. He shook his head and looked away when you giggled.

He let out his breath quickly, coughed a tiny bit but then clarified. “I’d be livid.”

“Right,” you nodded. A pause when you felt the question creeping into his mind. “...I’m not, like, seeing anyone else.”

He nodded. “Me neither.”

A cartwheel in your stomach when you realized what that meant: accidentally exclusive.

It almost came up after your birthday, but his smooth redirection in your living room ended in shower sex, not a conversation like this.

“Okay,” you reached for his joint. “Last one.”

You took it and inhaled, let him watch you when the smoke filled your lungs and you smiled in the night breeze. You followed him inside eventually, finished your glass of wine on the couch and laughed when he told you about the first time he met Javier.

Another episode and now your feet were on his lap. His arms draped over your legs, he tugged at the loose thread on your jeans and you wondered what it would be like to make breakfast for dinner together.

But when you checked your phone it was 1am, so you knew it was time to leave. Your turn to walk up to the line and then step back, a glance over your shoulder when you stood.

“Bedtime,” you said, lifting your phone with the uber app open.

“Yeah,” he stood, a nod when he scratched the back of his neck. “You’re good to Uber?”

“Yeah,” you headed for the coat rack by his front door and plucked yours off of a hook. “Thanks for letting me hang out,” you joked, smiled at him when he rolled his eyes.

“Like I was gonna kick you out,” he laughed.

“I’ll see you at work,” you had a hand on the doorknob.

He nodded, like he respected your choice to leave, like he liked the way you said it.

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herrmannhalsteadproduction · 1 year

Text

Congratulations on Not Dying (Happy Birthday, Chris!) [Chapter One]

Summary: This is Part Sixteen of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Click here for the Series Rundown where you can find the links to read all of the previous installments (which I highly recommend you do so that this one makes sense.)

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Christopher Herrmann/Cindy Herrmann, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, pre-Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz/Original Female Character, pre-Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes, Assorted OC Couples

Warnings: Language, Light Angst, People Making Bad Decisions

A/N: To underscore my previous note, this is an alternate universe so things have unfolded differently. This will not follow the canon arc exactly by any means. But I hope you'll still enjoy it!

Chapter One

Bex

Chris was turning forty and she would have made a big deal out of it no matter what, but—

He also almost died this year.

Bex really hated thinking about how close she came to losing him so to counteract all of that, she’d thrown herself into planning the best surprise party ever.

She just wanted a moment where everyone came together to show their love for Chris not because he was hurt, but because he was still there.

If she’d asked him about having a party, he’d have downplayed the idea of a celebration—probably would have suggested they all have a beer at Molly’s aka something they did every week anyway. Hence why she’d gone rogue with a surprise.

Everything was coming together perfectly.

She had them booked into the party room at one of Chris’s favourite restaurants. There’d be plenty of room for eating and mingling and dancing. The cake was ordered. Most of the decorations were bought. She had plenty of people on board to help with set up.

It was going to be amazing.

So far, the hardest part was getting Chris out of the way. Cindy had plans to whisk him and the kids away to the Lincoln Park Zoo for the day, but he was still making noise about working at Molly’s that evening. Cindy said if worst came to worst, she’d just shove him in the trunk.

The regular support staff was covering the bar so he couldn’t complain about that later (he still would, bless his frugal little heart) and a babysitter was booked in for the kids.

Bex looked at the clock. Seven a.m. T-minus twelve hours until party time.

No problem.

“Bex, I’m so sorry, but I got called in,” Will said as he rushed into the kitchen and poured himself a coffee.

“What? No!” Will was supposed to be one of her main helpers. He knew the whole plan from start to finish. Jay was supposed to help too, but he’d been…off the past couple of days.

She knew why. Erin had gone back to New York and it didn’t take a genius to read between the lines about what had gone down between the two of them after seeing them at Molly’s that last night.

They were both adults. They could make their own decisions.

Bex just wished they hadn’t made that particular decision. Not when she knew how much it had to be hurting Jay especially. People didn’t always see it, but just like Will, when Jay loved, he did it with his whole heart. And the people he loved kept leaving him.

He wasn’t talking about it to her yet and she was giving him space, but the clock was ticking on that. Brooding Jay was always a recipe for disaster.

Ugh. And now she was left with wrangling Brooding Jay all on her own.

“Please tell me it’s not a whole shift,” she begged Will. “I know you have to go, but I really wanted everyone to be there tonight.”

“Don’t worry,” he assured her as he started throwing things into his lunch bag. “They only need me to cover part of someone else’s shift so I’ll be done by two. Four max.”

She shot him a dubious look.

“I’ll be there!” He grabbed his stuff, gave her a quick one-armed hug, and hurried out the door.

Bex frowned after him and picked up her phone.

Bex: Hey! Are you working today?

Connor: Yup, but only until 4. I’ll still make it to the party.

Bex: Excellent. You’ve been drafted into Official Party Business. Officially.

Connor: That sounds ominous.

Bex: Will got called in. Your job is to make sure he leaves with you today. Please!

Connor: Sure

Bex: I know stuff might happen and you guys might have to stay. I get it. Bex: But if it’s at all possible to leave on time, please please please make it happen!

Connor: Bex. I’m on it. Don’t worry.

Bex: Thank you!!!

Okay. She huffed out a breath. That was the best she could do on that front. With almost everyone in their circle working as first responders, missing out on events was unavoidable sometimes, but she had her fingers crossed that the majority of their gang would be able to make it out for this one.

Her phone buzzed and she swiped to check the new message.

Jay: Sorry, Bex – going to be late. Have to head into work for a bit. Will try to be quick.

Bex banged her phone against her forehead a few times before responding.

Bex: No worries! Will you still be able to pick up the balloons later?

Jay: Yup

Bex: Awesome. Thank you!

She tossed her phone down onto the kitchen table and scrubbed a hand down her face. Okay. Not the end of the world. Jay still grabbing the balloons was a huge help. She still had other helpers.

It was going to be fine.

Her phone rang. The number for the restaurant flashed across the screen and she answered it.

“Ms. Herrmann, this is Kaitlyn from Arturo’s. I am so sorry, but we have to cancel your booking for today. There’s been a flood in the kitchen and we have to close for repairs.”

Kaitlyn went on about a possible rebooking date and somehow Bex managed to politely decline and hang up.

Well.

Shit.

***

Super Secret Birthday Party Group Chat – Team 51

Bex: 911 EMERGENCY SOS HELP Bex: ANYONE WHO IS AVAILABLE PLEASE COME TO MY PLACE

Kelly: What the hell, Bex?

Bex: NO TIME FOR QUESTIONS

Matt: We should probably just go there.

***

Bex

Twenty minutes later, Matt, Kelly, Gabi, Shay, Stella, Sylvie, Otis, Joe, Capp, Tony, Uncle Mouch, Uncle Bo, and Donna were all crammed into her living room.

Bex paced the floor in front of them as she explained the situation. “So, we have no venue, no food, no tables, no seating, no dishes, no music, and no dance floor,” she said, ticking the items off on her fingers. “All we have is a few decorations and balloons once Jay picks them up. And a cake as long as the bakery is still running.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “Maybe I should call them and make sure.”

Donna looked up from her phone, pausing the rapid-fire texting she’d been engaged in. “Cindy’s suggesting we use their house.”

“Won’t they be home before the party starts?” Bex asked. "Kind of defeats the purpose of a surprise."

“Cindy says she can keep him busy,” Donna shrugged. “The backyard is nice and big. The kitchen has plenty of room for us to cook. I’m guessing that’s the only way we’re going to manage food at this point.”

“I think Fifty-One can handle a proper barbeque,” Uncle Bo said with a confident nod.

That was…that was definitely a good start. Bex was starting to feel a little less grim about the whole thing. “What about tables and chairs? Do we need tablecloths?”

“I’ve got a buddy with a connection at a party supply place,” Matt said. “It’s a bit of a drive to get there, but he should be able to set us up with tables and chairs. If we take my truck and Capp’s, I think we could do it in one trip.”

“And we don’t necessarily need tablecloths, Bex,” Stella said, getting up to pace and plan with her. “We could get some tea lights for the tables and some fairy lights for the yard?”

Bex nodded, getting into the idea.

“And honestly,” Shay chimed in. “No one is going to stress if we have paper plates for this. None of us are fancy."

"Speak for yourself,” Uncle Mouch sniffed before cracking a smile.

Donna swatted at him with a laugh. “You know you’ve got plenty of hands willing to help out with the food,” she said to Bex. “We can do a big shop and take it all over to Chris and Cindy’s.”

“The restaurant refunded my money so I think I can still cover most of this,” Bex said, doing the math in her head.

“We’ll chip in too,” Kelly offered and everyone else nodded.

“I can do a beer and booze run from our supplier,” Gabi offered. “Get us a bit of a discount.”

“My cousin’s a DJ and he owes me a favour,” Otis piped up. “He’s got a portable dance floor too. It’s not huge, but I think it would fit in with what we’re setting up.”

“That would be amazing,” Bex said, her shoulders finally starting to lose some of their tension. “Thank you so much, all of you. Seriously, this is amazing.”

“It’s what we do, Baby Herrmann,” Uncle Bo said, wrapping her up in a hug. “You know that.”

She really did. And she’d never stop feeling grateful for it.

But she could be grateful and organized at the same time.

“Okay, huddle up,” she said. “We’ve got just over ten hours to make this happen.”

***

Will

Will felt awful for abandoning Bex, but he couldn’t leave the ED in the lurch either. They were short-staffed and he didn’t have all the details, but he heard they were getting slammed.

He jogged up the sidewalk and headed for the glass doors.

A quiet whine had him pausing until he heard it again.

There, to the right of the doors, tied up to a post by the bushes was a shaggy brown dog with the saddest little face.

“Hey, fella,” Will said, crouching a slight distance away and holding out a hand. The dog crept forward and sniffed at him before nudging into his hand. Will took the invitation and gave him a few pats. “What are you doing out here, hunh? Where’s your owner? Inside?”

The dog sighed and laid down at his feet.

“I’ll go check, okay?” He gave the dog one more pet before standing and walking inside where he instantly got swept up in the chaos of the ED.

***

Chris

Cindy had that look in her eye and she’d been on her phone more than usual.

Something was up.

But seeing as how it was his birthday…

He’d allow it.

Chris grinned to himself before noticing one of his children attempting to scale the fence of yet another enclosure. For pete’s sake—

“Annabelle!”

Hopefully they all survived to see whatever it was Cindy had up her sleeve. Click here for Chapter Two Click here for Chapter Three Click here for Chapter Four Click here for Chapter Five

Click here to read Congratulations on Not Dying (Happy Birthday, Chris!) on ao3:

And here is the tag list (let me know if you wish to be added or removed):

@sorry-i-spaced, @iunnowatuwant, @multifandomgrl08, @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived, @ivyalmighty, @thewannabewriter, @foxes-and-cats, @sensitivemallysix, @lexhalstead3

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year

Text

Safer Place

Can we get a part 2 to Safe Place? Maybe Nines and Connor having to unlearn going to the locker and instead just going to their room or to Hank instead? - Auggie

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt/insecurity, implied anti-android sentiments

Pairings: none

Word Count: 1490

They talk.

Hank scruffs Sumo as he trots over, letting out a low huff and flopping to the floor.

"Yeah, I know, buddy. That's how I feel too."

His eyes linger on Cole's old bedroom door, waiting for any sign of movement on the other side. It's early enough that Connor and Nines should be—well, 'up' was kind of a redundant thing to say, as was 'awake.' 'Active?' 'Ready to be goddamn pains in the ass again?'

'Up' it is, then.

It's early enough for his two boys to be worrying about this conversation that's about to happen and Hank sighs. Damn android having human problems like trauma and insecurity. Would he trade it for the world? Fuck, no, but it did make him tired.

I'm getting too old for this.

"Alright," he says a few moments later, raising his voice to let them know I know you two are up, get your plastic butts out here, "rise and shine, boys, let's go."

The door opens smoothly and Connor walks out first, still clad in his uniform that makes his face look goofy. He smiles as if nothing is wrong, but Hank can spot that LED spinning yellow. Nines follows shortly after, actually wearing a big DPD hoodie that's big on Hank. He fiddles with the sleeves and ties, his LED spinning yellow too.

"C'mere," Hank says, gesturing to the couch and chair, "you boys feel ready to talk about things or you need another minute?"

"I'm ready," Connor says, and Nines nods, "should—can we sit?"

"Sure. Anywhere."

He sees Connor's brow tick up slightly and he waits to see whether Connor's gonna push back. It's a good gauge to see whether or not he's feeling alright; if he decides to be a little shit about something, he's all good. If not, well, Hank's not a detective for nothing.

Connor ends up sitting on the armchair with his legs thrown over one of the arms, his back resting against the other. Nines looks around and sits on the floor. Sumo perks up immediately at the sight of possible cuddle-friends and waddles his way over, flopping down against Nines's leg and panting. Hank chuckles and sits up a little straighter.

"So," he says quietly, "can we talk about the storage locker?"

"What about it did you want to discuss, Lieu—" Hank gives Connor a look— "uh, Hank?"

"You think I want you in there?"

Connor shifts. "I…you prefer when we're not underfoot."

"That's not what I asked," Hank continues gently, even as he clocks Nines not participating at all. Connor fidgets with his coin.

"…no, Hank," Connor mumbles, "I don't think you want us in there."

"Okay. That's right, Con, I don't. Do you know why?"

Connor fidgets again. "Are we in trouble?"

Oh, fuck, kid, you're gonna give me a heart attack.

"No, son," Hank says, still careful to keep his voice soft, "you're not in trouble. Let me be a worried old man, hm?"

Nines, still not saying anything, scratches behind Sumo's ears. The dog huffs and lays his head on his knee.

"You said you go there when there's nothing else to do, right?" Connor nods. "Is it because of what I said?"

"Yes."

Hank allows himself a moment to hang his head. Then he takes a deep breath and looks back up. "I don't believe that anymore. I don't want you two to just be good little androids and fuck off to some disgusting old locker when you don't have anything else to do. You're…you know that, right?"

Both of them nod, but neither looks at him.

Hank takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Okay. You can keep using the locker if you want."

Both their heads whip around so fast he worries for a second they'll give themselves whiplash, only to wonder—somewhat hysterically—if androids can even get whiplash.

"We can?"

"So long as it stays in the room where I know you two won't freeze your plastic asses off, yeah. You can. It's your space. I'm not gonna force you out of it."

"I like the bed."

Nines's voice is so quiet that it takes Hank a moment to look down and realize he's said anything. He leans forward and lowers his voice too. "Yeah? The bed was nice?"

Nines nods. "Can—can we use that too?"

"Yeah, son. You can use that whole room if you want."

Nines looks up, scanning him—he can feel Connor doing the same thing—and he must realize Hank's telling the truth because he opens his mouth again. "It's not just when we have nothing to do."

"No?"

He shakes his head. "When—when we have to go somewhere."

Ah. "Like that other day at the precinct?" Nines nods. "Can you give me any other examples?"

"Now."

Hank freezes. "Now?"

Nines nods, LED spinning red. "I—I'm scared."

Shit. Shit, shit, fuck, goddamnit. He glances at Connor. Connor's spinning red too.

"Okay," he says quickly, "okay. If you're scared, we'll stop."

"We—we will?"

"Yeah, son. I don't wanna scare you. I—" Hank takes a deep breath— "I just want you to know you're safe here, okay? You're safe with me. You can…you can come to me if you're scared."

Nines looks up at him, eyes wide and pleading. "I can?"

"Yeah, son, if you're scared you can—oof."

For Nines had thrown himself into Hank's arms and he suddenly has a lapful of android, arms wrapped around him and a nose buried in his neck. He wraps his arms around Nines too, rubbing up and down his back and shushing him carefully.

"Hey, it's okay, son, you did great. It's okay, shh, shh, you're safe."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Connor get up and go back into the room, closing the door. His chest tugs a little bit but he pushes it away. Connor's allowed to take things at his own speed too.

It goes like that for a while. Nines will sometimes come to him. Sometimes he'll talk, sometimes he won't. Always he wants a hug. Connor goes to the room and he doesn't come out again until his LED's all blue and he can smile properly. Sometimes Nines goes in there after he's had a hug. The bed starts to look slept in again, the room is less dusty.

Hank tries not to push. He knows Nines never had to face him when he was so vocally anti-android, which makes it a bit easier for him to take comfort from Hank for things. He knows Connor knows Hank would never hurt him, never say anything like that ever again, but he also knows it's hard to get over something like that. Still, it hurts a bit every time his son is in pain and doesn't feel safe enough to come to him for help.

Then, one day, Connor asks him to come to the evidence locker in the precinct.

Hank follows him down, wondering which case this is for, only to just about have the wind knocked out of him when Connor's head buries itself in his shoulder.

"Whoa, whoa, take it easy, son, what's—"

A strange noise happens. So strange it takes Hank a moment to realize it was a sob.

Connor just fucking sobbed into his shoulder.

Nope. No fucking way. Whoever did this is fucking dead.

"Hey, hey," he murmurs, immediately softening and wrapping his arms around his shaking son, "hey, son, shh. It's okay. You got me, okay? I'm right here, you're safe."

Connor's arms tighten and he lets out a rush of breath but he doesn't stop rubbing his back.

"I've got you. You did the right thing, I'm right here, son. I'll keep you safe. You did so good, Con, it's okay. It's okay, now."

His shoulder starts to feel a bit damp and to his surprise, it makes him smile.

"You're alright, son," he murmurs, because he has his son in his arms and he can keep him safe here, "I'm here now."

Later, Hank will find out that one of the visiting cops told Connor he'd have him scrapped for even getting near him and Hank will not be written up for punching his lights out. Nines will discover he has a history of abusing his power as a cop and get the whole precinct investigated for criminal offenses. They will take Connor home and fall asleep in a sprawl of limbs while some movie plays in the background and Sumo stands guard. And even later, Hank will find himself being woken up by his sons cuddling closer to him.

But for now, he will hold Connor in the dimly lit evidence locker and let his son know there is nowhere he would rather be.

#fic #dragonbabbles #detroit become human #dbh

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