The One With the Ring
- Clark knew he was going to put a ring on your finger the day he met you, but when he slips up and lets the entire world know that Superman is off the market, things get a little more... interesting.
You Should Probably Leave
- He should probably leave, right? He should do the right thing and walk away before he does something that might ruin your friendship. So why is it that he's moving closer to you, risking everything when he doesn't know if you feel the same way?
In a World of Boys
- You're tired of bad dates, but it's easier to deal with the fact that not every man is like Clark Kent when you come home to him cooking you dinner after your SOS text gets sent to the wrong person.
Worth a Thousand Words
- When Superman shows up to save the day, he makes headlines. Only this time the headlines aren’t exactly what you expect when you see yourself on the front page, labelled Superman’s new mystery woman.
Look After You
- When the whole world feels like it's coming down on his shoulders, you're there to remind Clark that he does not have to bear that weight on his own.
If You Were Mine
- You're drunk and Clark's pining, but he doesn't know how to tell you. Turns out, drunk you reveals that sober you wants the same thing.
Stay Stay Stay
- All your life, you've been conditioned into thinking that people will leave at the first sign of trouble. Lucky for you, Clark Kent isn't like all the others; he's prepared to stay and fight for you.
Four Blue Eyes
- After so many years of loving Clark Kent's blue eyes, you find another pair that you could get lost in.
Dancing in my Living Room
- Just you and Clark, dancing in your living room while the city sleeps.
Written in the Clouds
- You're not a fan of grand gestures, preferring the subtle, quiet type of love. Clark gives you that, but he's also not afraid to tell the world how much you mean to him.
You Are in Love
- You are in love with Clark Kent and he is just as devoted to you. All of those small moments equate to a love that even the stars couldn't have foretold.
Major Idiots
- You and Clark have this stupid running joke that drives your colleagues mad, yet neither of you are willing to drop it.
Glitter and Sequins
- You lose Clark to your nieces during the holidays.
Scott Miller
All's Fair
- Scott liked you. You liked Scott. The only problem was that you were both idiots who couldn’t admit it. The solution? You make Scott jealous and he finally does something about the tension between you.
After the Storm- There are few things more dangerous than storms, but your feelings for Scott Miller might be one of them.
Johnny Storm
Johnny's Girl
- She's Johnny's girl and he wants to make sure that everybody knows it.
Husband?!
- You and Johnny are in Vegas. One thing leads to another and...
Say That Again
- You're drunk. Johnny's listening to you ramble on about anything and nothing, but then he says something that makes the world stop turning.
Tyler Owens
The Hat Rule
- Kate knew you and Tyler were together, but she didn’t know how it happened. Turns out, your friends love retelling the story of the time Tyler totally lost his cool over you.
Second Time's the Charm
- You and Tyler broke up and you're with somebody new, but it's obvious that whatever the two of you had is unfinished business.
Bradley Bradshaw
Make 'em Wait
- Bradley has a surprise for you.
Jake Seresin
Dutiful Defender
- You get a black eye. Jake wants to know who touched you.
Rhett Abbott
You Lost It?!
- You and Rhett are new parents. Turns out baby brain hasn't just affected you, but Rhett too.
Adam Ruzek
Shoulder to Lean On
- After a bad case, you find yourself at your usual spot. Adam joins you, insistent on not letting you go through the motions on your own.
Angel With a Problem
- It was oddly domestic, sitting on the sink in one of the station bathrooms while Adam used a wad of wet tissue to gently wipe the remaining blood from your face. If you weren't fighting off a headache, it might have actually been kind of romantic.
Jay Halstead
You Meddling Kids
- It's Halloween. Herrmann is throwing a costume party at Molly's and you know the perfect couples costume (Bonus: Ruzek and Burgess join in).
It Could Be Real
- It was bad enough you'd wrangled him into pretending to be your husband. Asking him to pretend he didn't do the job he loved as well was something you couldn't do.
The Real Thing (Continuation of It Could Be Real)
- It was supposed to be a simple favour. A friend helping out a friend. It wasn't real, but he wanted it to be. The boundaries had blurred and Jay knew he'd never be the same now that he knew what it felt like to kiss you.
We Made It
- There had been a scary degree of calm in the bullpen since you'd all returned from your failed sting on Derek Keyes. It was only natural that your fuse blew after trying to contain it for so long. [Based on 3x01 of Chicago PD]
Antonio Dawson
Watch Your Mouth
- An FBI agent doesn't know when to shut his mouth. Cue Antonio stepping in to have your back.
Kelly Severide
Where's the Fire?
- After a nightmare, Kelly finds you stress-baking in the kitchen at 2am and... well, it's a good thing you're firefighters.
That's My Wife!
- You and Kelly aren't married yet, but he still insists on calling you his wife OR 3 times Kelly calls you his wife and the 1 time he does something about it.
Lipstick Kisses
- You're used to women giving Kelly the eye and normally it doesn't bother you. But this one? This blonde with the fake rack that was pressing up against him and leaving him no room to escape? This one was going to catch you an assault charge.
Catch a Peeping Tom
- There's a photographer in the firehouse. Kelly catches him where he shouldn't be.
Matt Casey
Little Miss Popular
- It was just another day on the job for you, but for the man you saved it might as well have been a blessing from the heavens. The only problem? He doesn’t understand that you’re not interested. The solution? Matt stakes his claim.
Not Another Western
- Matt's a secret movie buff. You, unfortunately, are not.
Prove Me Wrong
- You and Matt were like ships in the night. Everyone thought you'd end up together, but whenever one was single the other was always in a relationship. Your paths never aligned, until they did.
Jason Todd
I Prefer You
- Your wedding is coming up. Dick goes to great lengths for Jason’s bachelor party, but he… simply doesn’t want to stay.
Call It What You Want
- Attending galas wasn't your idea of a fun time, but showing your face was part of being Bruce Wayne's daughter. Having Jason by your side made them a little easier to bear.
Benedict Bridgerton
Lover of Mine
- Benedict is so in love with you that the thought of sharing is preposterous. At his side is where you belong, tucked beneath the warmth of his arm, a piece of him separated only to find your way back together.
SUMMARY: You and Matt were like ships in the night. Everyone thought you'd end up together, but whenever one was single the other was always in a relationship. Your paths never aligned, until they did.
WARNINGS: Mentions of a breakup (not with Matt ofc)
W/C: 1.3k
PROMPT: “We broke up a few days ago. I guess I was too embarrassed to tell you after you warned me about them.”
Walking into Molly's felt like you were a lamb to the slaughter. You'd been avoiding the bar for the last few days, coming up with excuses on your shifts as to why you couldn't hang out after hours. There was only so much laundry you could do before someone inevitably called you out for flaking on them.
Truthfully, you'd been moping over yet another failed relationship. Everybody had warned you that the guy you'd been seeing gave off a strange vibe, but you hadn't listened. Even Matt, who rarely involved himself in the affairs of others when it came to relationships, had told you that he didn't get a good read on the guy when he stopped by the firehouse to see you during your shift.
The moment the fluorescent lights hit you and the smell of beer hit your nose, you felt a swell of regret for having turned out. Stella and Brett had refused to take no for an answer, insisting on a girl's night as they swore they hadn't seen you properly in weeks. You'd arrived early and neither were there, but you saw Matt sitting at the end of the bar with two beers in front of him.
Biting the bullet and choosing company over solitude, you approached him and said, 'Hey.'
He turned and smiled at you. 'Hey. Wasn't expecting to see you.'
'Stella and Brett organised a girl's night,' you said, glancing around the almost empty bar. 'Yet neither of them are here, so...'
'Severide was supposed to meet me,' Matt said, gesturing to the beer beside his own. 'But he texted and said he's running late. You want a beer?'
You laughed, sitting down on the stool beside Matt. 'Sure. Severide can suck it for leaving you hanging.'
Matt slid the bottle your way and you took it gratefully. He furrowed his eyebrows. 'No boyfriend tonight?'
'Uh, no...' you said. 'We, uh... actually broke up.'
'Oh, really?' Matt asked. 'You okay?'
'Yeah,' you said, nodding but keeping your eyes on the beer in your hands. 'We broke up a few days ago. I guess I was too embarrassed to tell you after you warned me about them.'
'Wanna talk about it?' Matt asked.
'Not really,' you replied. 'I'm over it, to be honest. I don't think he was the right guy for me.'
Matt refrained from telling you that no, he definitely wasn't the right guy for you. Instead, he settled on, 'You'll find the right one eventually.'
You sighed. 'Yeah, maybe. Or maybe I'm just doomed to be unlovable forever.'
Matt bit his tongue again. He loved you. Pretty sure he always had.
In your back pocket, your phone vibrated. Checking the message, you saw one from both Stella and Brett, both cancelling last minute and sending their apologies. Cursing, you put your phone away and dropped your head onto the bar.
'What's wrong?' Matt asked.
'They cancelled,' you said. 'Guess I'm on a one-woman drinking mission.'
'Hey, no,' Matt said. 'You can hang with me. It's not looking like Severide's showing up anytime soon.'
'You sure?' you asked.
'I couldn't let you drink alone after you just told me you went through a breakup recently,' Matt said. 'We can drink and you can talk about it or not talk about it and I'll try my best to cheer you up.'
That was a nice idea.
There'd always been a friendship between you and Matt that nobody could ever explain. Like two ships in the night, always missing each other. Everyone at 51 thought the two of you would end up together eventually, especially after his divorce and the way the two of you naturally gravitated towards one another. You'd been the one that helped him through the divorce and he'd been your biggest supporter. Friends, you always insisted. That's what friends do.
Nobody believed it.
When they thought you'd finally own up to your feelings, one of you ended up in a relationship. It had been that way for so long that everyone had given up, wondering if your paths would ever align in a way that made sense.
Little did either of you know that your friends hadn't cancelled for no reason. Stella, Brett and Kelly were all looking through the window of the bar, squinting through the fogged-up glass to where you and Matt sat talking.
'Do we think this'll work?' Brett asked.
Kelly shrugged. 'I hope so. How'd you know she broke up with that dick?'
'She didn't tell us, but we could tell,' Stella said. 'She dodged all the questions about him and kept coming up with excuses not to hang out. She hates doing laundry, so when she used it as an excuse the second time, I knew she was lying.'
'And we think this'll work?' Brett asked. 'What if we got it wrong?'
'We haven't got it wrong,' Kelly said. 'I've known those two for longer than both of you. If there was ever two people so right for one another, it's them. They just need to realise it.'
'Look at you, getting all romantic and match-making,' Stella cooed.
Kelly rolled his eyes. 'Shut up.'
'Oh, they're leaving!' Brett said, eyes widening.
'Run!' Stella hissed, shoving them both into motion.
The three of them bolted around the corner of Molly's, taking cover in the alleyway. They heard you and Matt leave the bar, your voices carrying on the cool Chicago breeze. None of them could make out what you were saying, but Stella got brave and peeked out from their hiding spot to see the two of you walking down the street together.
'Matt's jacket is around her shoulders!' she said, shaking Kelly's arm excitedly. 'It worked! Oh my God, it worked!'
Kelly shook his head. 'We don't know for sure.'
'Ten bucks says he walks her home and kisses her,' Brett said.
'I'll take that action,' Stella replied.
By the time you and Matt made it back to your apartment, you were chilled to the bone despite his jacket around your shoulders. He lingered by your door as you unlocked it, letting it swing open before turning to him.
'You wanna come in?' you asked. 'Warm up for a bit?'
'Yeah, I'd like that,' he said. 'But- Wait, hold on.'
You turned back to him, confusion knitting your eyebrows together as Matt stepped closer to you, brought his hands up to cup your jaw and kissed you.
Disbelief ricocheted through your body as your brain took a moment to process what was happening, but then you melted into his embrace and let the kiss consume you. Snaking your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer and arched into his touch. He dropped his hands to your waist, sliding them around to your back as he held you against him.
In the hallway of your apartment building, you kissed Matt Casey like you never wanted to stop.
He pulled away first, a sheepish look on his face. 'Sorry, I shouldn't have-'
'Do that again,' you whispered, pulling him back towards you.
His hands dropped to your waist again and you jumped to wrap your legs around him. He steadied you by bracing his hands beneath your thighs, heading into your apartment with a skilled ease. Kicking the door closed behind him, Matt traced the familiar route to your bedroom, carrying you over to the bed and lowering you down gently.
You lay beneath him, his jacket still cradling your body as he took a moment to let himself fully soak in the sight before him. The way you smiled up at him, a reassurance and a lust in your eyes that had him hooked and wanting more.
'Matty...' you breathed.
'Yeah?'
'Are you sure?' you whispered.
He nodded. 'If you give me a chance to love you, I'll prove you wrong about being unlovable.'
That was enough to have you reaching for him, grasping a handful of his shirt and hauling him back down to meet him in another kiss. The first of many, you hoped.
SUMMARY: Benedict is so in love with you that the thought of sharing is preposterous. At his side is where you belong, tucked beneath the warmth of his arm, a piece of him separated only to find your way back together.
WARNINGS: None
W/C: 2.0k
"We could be at home."
You rolled your eyes from where you sat beside Benedict in the carriage transporting the two of you to another ball. His head was tilted back against the seat, eyes closed, shoulders slumped. He'd been complaining since before you even made it out of the door, ceasing his grumbling only long enough to compliment you on your gown and kiss your cheek before resuming.
"Ben," you said softly, resting a hand on his thigh. "We have to attend these things. Your mother would have our heads if we didn't."
Benedict tilted his head, opened one eye and looked at you. "I would rather have you in bed. Preferably without clothes."
"You had me in bed not two hours ago and we're lucky we're not later than we already are," you said, flashes of those moments playing before your eyes. Rolling in sheets, laughter and love warming the bed, feeding your souls as you lost yourself in his embrace. You shook the thoughts away. "Besides, it's polite to show our faces."
"Believe me, there's nothing polite about what I want to do to you," he said. "You look ravishing in that dress, darling."
"Stop it," you said, giggling despite yourself. Violet had tasked you with ensuring the pair of you arrived on time and you intended to fulfil her wishes to the best of your ability. "You're making it impossible not to turn around and go home."
Benedict moved along the seat to wrap an arm around your shoulders. "Maybe that's my intention."
He kissed you, taking his time to memorise the feel of your lips as though every time was the first. He knew you would fold, putty in his hands the moment his lips brushed yours. A masterpiece he could never have created, born from the heavens, its purest artwork. You were a woman he never saw coming but was planning to keep now he had you. So when he kissed you like a man starved of breath and you were his oxygen, the way your body melted against his was the most perfect reward.
Fortunately, you'd dealt with him for long enough to know every move in his arsenal, so let the kiss last for a little longer than usual before pulling away reluctantly.
"That won't work," you chided, hand coming up to his chest as he tried to lean in to steal another kiss. "We're almost there. We're not turning around."
"My mother has influenced you far too much for my liking," Benedict said with a sigh, falling back against the seat once more. "I suppose we can go for an hour."
"Two," you said.
"An argument could be made for two."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, kiss me again and we'll see about two."
Rolling your eyes, you kissed him again and he pulled away with a dopey smile on his face. "Happy now?"
"Happy enough considering we have to go to this ball full of eligible men that will all be staring at my beautiful wife," he replied.
"They won't be looking at me," you said. "There'll be plenty of other pretty ladies there."
"None so pretty as you," he replied. "And no, they won't be looking at you if they know what's good for them."
"So possessive, Ben," you teased.
"Hard not to be when you look like this," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. "It's a shame for all those other men that you're the most beautiful woman in every room. Wonderful for me, though."
You rolled your eyes. "Such a charmer, as always."
"It does bother me terribly that the old men all stare at you," he grumbled. "It's like the ring on your finger means nothing."
You giggled. "You're so dramatic. Besides, you'll be there to swoop in and save the day if any of them get too close for comfort."
"Ha," Benedict said dryly, kissing your cheek. "Presumptuous of you to assume I'll be leaving your side for a single moment tonight. You're the only thing that makes these events bearable, besides the alcohol, of course."
Shaking your head in amusement, you pressed a lingering kiss to your husband's lips. "My hero."
"My wonderful wife," he mumbled against your lips.
By the time you made it to the ball, it was a wonder your cheeks weren't flushed and you weren't utterly breathless. Stealing kisses with Benedict wasn't anything new, much to his siblings' chagrin, but he seemed to be on another level that evening. Wandering hands, lips ghosting over the hollow of your throat, dancing along your jaw, touching everywhere but your lips until you eventually grasped the back of his neck and met him in a searing kiss that left you both breathless.
Once, he had been your childhood friend. Knocking about with the Bridgertons as you had, you'd garnered quite the reputation among the Ton. Everybody assumed you would marry one of them and being so close in age to Colin the rumour mill leaned towards him being the man you would end up with, but none held your affections the way Benedict had. You would have married him in a heartbeat had he displayed any sort of interest in you beyond the parameters of friendship, but he didn't. Not until the day he almost lost you to another man and realised what he would be giving up if he let you get away.
He'd gone to your father, confessed his love for you and begged for your hand in marriage. Your father had laughed, informing him that his blessing had belonged to Benedict since before he ever had to ask. Your father was just grateful he'd finally realised his own feelings, having watched from afar as you both fell in love without truly understanding it for what it was.
The two of you married not long after. You courted for the appropriate time, receiving the scandal of an interrupted union between you and your former suitor by showing the Ton that neither of you cared. Benedict walked with you, called on you, delivered books he thought you might enjoy and dined with your family before finally sealing the union. He had asked you to marry him quietly, in the drawing room where he'd once broken one of his mother's fancy plates trying to impress you, and it felt as though your lives had come full circle.
Benedict made your days brighter and even the countless balls were a little more tolerable now you weren't the one under the spotlight with the attention of the Ton and you had him beside you.
Walking into the venue now, you pressed close to Benedict's side and kept your arm through his. He glanced down at you, smile playing on his lips as he bowed closer to kiss the top of your head. You were most content at his side and there was nowhere he would rather have you be. He liked to think you were the other half of his soul, a piece of him separated by the universe for him to find.
"Two hours," he whispered. "Then I'm taking you home and we're going to resume our previous activities."
You bit your lip to try and hide your smile. "Alright, but you have to dance with me."
Benedict nodded. "Anything for the love of my life."
An hour later, you found yourself with Francesca at one of the refreshment tables, seeking something to drink. Benedict, despite his promise not to leave your side, had been forced to do so. The natural necessity to use the bathroom cared little for people's promises, so with an apology and a kiss to your temple, he'd vanished into the crowd.
"I'm surprised Benedict hasn't made his escape yet," Francesca said.
"Believe me, I think he's plotting the best way to get out without being seen by your mother," you replied. "He promised me two hours, though."
"I'm amazed."
"Yes, me too."
Somebody bumped into you from behind and you stumbled slightly. A hand caught your arm to steady you and Francesca scowled at the man standing before you. Recognising the obvious discomfort on your face, she said, "I'm going to find Anthony," and with a look that said she promised to return, she was off.
"My apologies, My Lady," the man said to you, finally earning your attention as Francesca vanished. "I wasn't looking where I was going. Are you hurt?"
Gently disengaging yourself from the man's grip, you stepped a little further away. "I'm stronger than I look. Have you come looking for food?"
"In part," he replied. "But mostly I came this way because of the beautiful woman standing by the table."
You almost choked on the champagne you were drinking. "Bold words."
"Maybe I've been emboldened by your beauty," he said. "I'm Lord Devlin."
"Y/N Bridgerton," you replied curtly.
He took your hand, missing the wedding ring or just ignorant to it as he said, "It's a pleasure. I've heard all about your family. You and your siblings have quite the reputation for love matches."
"Actually, My Lord-"
"I'm here to find myself a wife," he continued. "And I do believe I've just laid eyes on the most beautiful woman in the room. Would you care to-"
"There you are, darling!" Benedict's exclamation broke through the crowd right as he appeared. There was a smile on his face, but you could tell it was forced as he laid eyes on Lord Devlin. He slipped into place at your side, arm around your waist to draw you closer.
"Ben," you said in relief. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to."
"I'm sorry, I got distracted by Anthony and then Francesca showed up and told me you were over here," he replied, finally tearing his gaze from you. "Who's this?"
"Lord Devlin," he greeted.
"Benedict Bridgerton," came the clipped response.
"Another Bridgerton," Lord Devlin said with a chuckle. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I was just about to ask your sister to dance with me."
"My sister?" Benedict asked, glancing around as though expecting to spot one of his siblings.
"I didn't have a chance to clear up the confusion," you explained, hoping your eyes conveyed your discomfort to Benedict.
"Oh," he said slowly, before he flashed Lord Devlin a grin. "This is my wife, My Lord. Not my sister."
"She didn't say."
"I didn't get the chance-"
"You should keep a better eye on your lady, Lord Bridgerton," Lord Devlin said. "Leaving her unaccompanied might give men the wrong idea."
"I don't think so," Benedict said, reaching for your left hand and pretending to observe your ring. His thumb brushed over the diamond, his hand a welcome warmth to your skin. "Ah, yes, see, there's the ring I put there. Very obvious that she's a married woman." You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. "Now, if you'll excuse us, Lord Devlin, my wife and I are going to take our leave."
Without so much as another word, Benedict steered you away from Lord Devlin and towards the doors. Letting out a nervous giggle, you relaxed into Benedict's hold and said, "Can we actually go home now?"
"You're silly if you think I'm staying here a moment longer," Benedict replied. "I'm taking you far, far away from here. To bed. Where only my eyes will be on you."
The two of you descended the steps down to the driveway and as you reached the bottom, Benedict crouched and looped his arm around your knees. Lifting you up with ease, you squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck.
"Ben, this isn't proper."
"I don't care," he said, tightening his hold on you. "If I want to carry my wife, I shall."
He stayed true to his word. Calling the carriage, he took you home, hardly able to keep his hands off you until you both reached the sanctity of your bedroom, wherein your clothes were discarded on the floor in a trail on the way to the bed. He laid you down carefully, taking his time with you as he so often did, and he didn't let you go even after you drifted to sleep. By the time the morning light was streaming softly through the separation in the curtains, he had forgotten everything else besides you, because at the end of the day you were all that mattered.
SUMMARY: There's a photographer in the firehouse. Kelly catches him where he shouldn't be.
WARNINGS: mentions of vomit (reader gets thrown up on), mentions of photographer taking photos of naked reader (doesn't happen though)
W/C: 1.1k
"It's a good thing I have a strong stomach," you grumbled bitterly, halfway out of your seat before Brett had even stopped the ambulance. "But if I don't shower soon, I'm going to start itching."
Brett laughed and killed the engine. "Yeah, it's gonna smell in here for a while."
"Ha."
You walked around the side of the ambulance and saw Kelly sitting with Matt and the photographer that was spending a day in-house to observe and capture authentic firehouse moments. Ever since he'd shown up that morning, he'd been following you and Brett around, the click of his camera providing the backdrop of your workday. It was getting on your nerves, so the callouts were welcome respite from it. Until this one.
When Kelly saw you, he grinned, cigar hanging loosely from his fingers. "What the hell happened to you?"
"I do not want to talk about it," you said, holding your hands up in surrender.
The front of your coat was covered in vomit, an unfortunate consequence of the call you'd just returned from. The smell was lingering in your nostrils and you just wanted to shower and wash away the memory.
"I'm going to shower," you said. "Then maybe I'll be in the mood to talk."
Kelly huffed a laugh. "Good idea. I can smell you from here."
Rolling your eyes, you moved closer to Kelly and watched him grimace as you did. "You're telling me you don't want some of this?"
Kelly raised his foot, intercepting your approach. "You know I do, but not until you shower."
"Get outta here," Matt said, chuckling. "You're interrupting my peace and fresh air."
"Alright, alright," you said. "If you don't see me for a while, assume I'm trying to scrub off a layer of skin in the shower."
You blew Kelly a kiss and headed inside to the showers. Cruz tried to stop you and ask what had happened, but one glare had him raising his hands and sending you on your way. Everybody knew better than to try and talk to you when that look crossed your face. The last time someone did, well... Herrmann had never been the same.
Back outside, Brett leaned against the wall and said, "We had a guy face down on Racine. Rolled him over and... bleugh, all over her. 50/50 chance it could've been me, but I am glad it wasn't."
"I can't imagine she feels the same," Kelly said. Matt grinned.
"No, I doubt it," Brett replied.
"Hey, uh, I'm gonna go and get some coffee," Nate, the photographer, said. "You guys want anything?"
A chorus of 'no's were returned to him and he disappeared into the house after snapping a couple of photos of Brett. Glancing down at his cigar, Kelly kicked his feet down from where they'd been resting on a stool and stood up.
"I'll be back in a minute," he said. "Nobody touch my cigar."
Matt raised his eyebrows. "No worries."
Kelly looked at Brett, who shook her head. "I'm not touching it."
Heading inside, Kelly made his way to the bathrooms, intending on maybe gatecrashing your shower once you'd gotten rid of the initial smell of vomit. He wandered past the toilet stalls, taking off his jacket as he went, before he spotted someone else moving around in the showers. Furrowing his eyebrows, Kelly quickened his pace and rounded the corner only to be met with the sight of Nate holding his camera up as though waiting to take photos of you. In the shower.
"Hey!"
If there was one person on this Earth that Kelly Severide would do anything for, it was you. There was hardly a line he wouldn't cross if it meant keeping you safe, and seeing a man waiting to take photos of you at your most vulnerable sent white-hot rage coursing through him.
His hands shoved Nate towards the opposite wall, where he grasped the man by the jacket and pinned him. "What the hell are you doing?"
"What the hell is wrong with you, man?" Nate yelled. "Get off me!"
"What's going on?"
Your head was peering out of the shower cubicle, dripping water onto the floor. Kelly looked over at you and said, "I just caught him trying to take pictures of you."
You were out of the shower now, wrapping a towel around your body. "In- In the shower?"
"Yeah," Kelly snapped, dragging Nate from the wall and shoving him. "Get your camera and get the hell out of this firehouse."
"Hey, man, you got the wrong-"
"No, I don't think I did," Kelly snapped, taking a step to position himself between you and Nate. "Get the hell out. I won't ask again."
Nate looked once at you, still dripping water onto the floor at your feet, towel wrapped securely around your body, and then at Kelly, whose fists were clenched at his sides like he was holding himself back from throwing a punch.
By the time he was gone, you felt some of the shock subside. Kelly turned to you and his name spilled from your lips in a whisper. "Kel?"
He raised a hand to you, his jaw clenched, before he stormed from the bathroom.
You let him go, hurrying to dress yourself again. Rushing and getting stuck in your t-shirt because you weren't completely dry, you ran from the bathroom and almost collided with Kelly on your way out of the door. A shriek of surprise left you as he clapped his hands on your shoulders to steady you, a laugh leaving his lips at the expression on your face.
"You okay?"
"You scared me!" you said, holding a hand to your chest. "Jesus, I was scared you'd start a fight."
"I was close," Kelly said. "I would've taken that guy's head off."
"While I appreciate you being so willing to defend my honour, it's okay-"
"It's not okay," Kelly said, his grip tightening on your shoulders. "He shouldn't have even come close to you in there."
"But he didn't-"
"Stop trying to justify this," Kelly said. "I already told Boden. He wants to see us in his office."
You sighed. "Kelly-"
"I know, I know, you're gonna tell me not to make a big deal about it," Kelly said. "Unlucky for you, I'm making a big deal out of this."
You grimaced. "Fine."
"Are you okay, though?" he asked.
"Yeah," you said softly. "I'm fine. Thanks for... you know, being there."
"Yeah, that jackass ruined my chance of getting you alone in the showers," Kelly said, shaking his head.
Grinning up at him, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and whispered, "When we get home, I'll show you just how grateful I am for you playing the hero."
Kelly's hands rested on your hips and pulled you closer. "Sounds good to me," he murmured, kissing you again. "C'mon, let's go find Boden."
You sighed. "Yeah, okay."
Getting through the rest of the shift would be the longest hours of your life.
I feel so insane about ai. I've had face-to-face conversations with people who use it for therapy, who use it to calculate the safety of pill interactions, who use it for all their emails and grant applications and legal documents and academic papers and finance sheets and for every single question they have about the world, and if you tell them about the ecological costs they just laugh and say "I guess I've used a lot of water." and I've been in multiple gatherings of 10+ people where I'm THE ONLY PERSON who doesn't use chatgpt. it's turning me into a ranting raving pariah, because how don't you people see??? why don't you understand??????? this bullshit didn't exist five years ago, you absolutely do not need it, and it is destroying everything
SUMMARY: Matt's a secret movie buff. You, unfortunately, are not.
WARNINGS: None
W/C: 0.6k
PROMPT: “I love you, I swear it, but not enough to watch another western.”
A/N: *Cracks knuckles*. This is a short one but I've been gone for a while. Uni and life kicked my ASS the last few months, but I'm back baby. This is super short but my attempt to get back into writing woo!
You loved Matt Casey. You swore you loved Matt Casey. He was everything you ever wanted in a man; kind, charming, respectful, and protective when he needed to be. He let you fight your own battles, backing you up only if it became clear you’d gotten yourself in too deep. He trusted you, and you trusted him with your life (God knows he’d saved it one too many times now). He carried your heels when you were drunk and gave you his shoes so you didn’t have to walk barefoot down the streets, but he’d always end up giving you a piggyback anyway and laugh at the way you struggled to keep them on your feet.
He really was the man of your dreams.
So you kept telling yourself that when you saw him pick yet another movie.
“Matt, I love you, I swear it,” you said, sinking down onto the couch and slumping dramatically across his lap, face down on the couch cushions with your stomach resting over his thighs. “But not enough to watch another western.”
“Oh, come on, this one has romance in it,” he said, placing his hand on the curve of your ass as you heaved a dramatic sigh into the cushions. “And it’s got Brad Pitt in it.”
You lifted your head. “Really?”
“That’s what got your attention, huh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
You flopped back down on the couch. “What’s your big obsession with westerns?”
“They’re good.”
“Okay, yeah, they are, but c’mon, we’ve watched one every night we’ve not had a shift,” you said. “I never thought I’d ever say this, but I’m tired of cowboys, Matty. I want something different.”
“Okay, okay, what do you want to watch?” he asked.
You picked yourself up off the couch, settling in next to him. “I don’t know.”
“Very helpful.”
“You put me on the spot!”
“Pick a movie, c’mon.”
“Now you’re pressuring me!”
He laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “We can watch whatever you want.”
"The Notebook?"
“That’s your choice? You’ve seen it twelve times and cry every time.”
“It’s a great film,” you insisted. “Please?”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Fine, but no crying.”
“No promises.”
He liked his western movies. He liked the action, the pacing, the high stakes, and the thrill of the adventure, but he had to admit that he liked this a lot more. Curled up with you in his arms, the comfort you sought in him when you inevitably cried at the ending of the movie, the way your body fit so perfectly against his own as though you were carved from the same star. Your arms wrapped around him as you whispered into the crook of his neck that you never wanted to be left in this world without him in it.
That was worth more than any western movie, in his opinion. To love and be loved so much that the thought of existing without the other half of your soul was something inconceivable; a fate worse than death.
So he kissed away your tears, laughing at the fact that he was right about you crying again, before he carried you to bed and laid you down on the mattress, kissing all over your face to bring the giggles bubbling up from your chest, abandoning the melancholy in favour of consuming you with the love he never wanted you to be without.
And when you fell asleep that night, wrapped in the safety of Matt’s embrace, he told himself that he’d watch all the romance movies you wanted if it meant keeping you like this forever.
SUMMARY: You're used to women giving Kelly the eye and normally it doesn't bother you. But this one? This blonde with the fake rack that was pressing up against him and leaving him no room to escape? This one was going to catch you an assault charge.
WARNINGS: Reader gets threatened, inspired by that one episode of Yellowstone where Beth smashes a bottle on a woman's head (but the reader doesn't do that).
W/C: 1.2k
PROMPT: "Your lipstick's all over me!"
Drumming your fingers on the bar, your engagement ring kept catching the light. The drink in front of you was your fifth - maybe sixth? - and you were feeling the buzz in your veins. Molly's was packed tonight; dozens of firefighters, cops and doctors filling the tables and bringing the bar to life with happy chatter. You were sitting at the bar with your brothers on either side of you, chatting aimlessly about the latest sports games, but you could feel Kelly's eyes on you from across the room.
He was sitting at a table with a few of the Squad guys, watching the way you laughed at something Will had said. You'd barely spent any time together that night, flitting between your friends and stealing kisses or quiet conversation whenever you passed one another. It was alright, though, because Kelly knew whose bed you'd be in when you eventually headed home and it was nice to see you having such a good time with your brothers. God knows you didn't see them nearly as much as you wanted to, what with your hectic work schedules not often coinciding.
"Hey, are you a firefighter?"
Turning in his chair, Kelly eyed the blonde woman that was standing a little too close for comfort. "Uh, yeah, I am."
"Wow, I bet you're super strong, right?" she said, a smile playing on her face.
She was pretty, sure, but she didn't hold a candle to you.
When Kelly's eyes flitted towards you, he saw you looking back at him. Will and Jay were watching too. Kelly turned back to the blonde. "Yeah, I kinda have to be."
"Do you wanna get out of here?" the woman asked. "My place is just around the corner-"
"You see that woman over there?" Kelly asked, pointing in your direction. "The one looking at you like she's considering murder? That's my fiancée, so no, I don't want to go to your place."
The blonde giggled. "Oh, that's not a problem. Hang on."
As she walked away, Kelly grimaced. Capp said, "Ten bucks on your girl."
"I'm not betting on a fixed fight," Kelly replied, already on his feet.
Now, you're used to women giving Kelly the eye and normally it doesn't bother you. But this one? This blonde with the fake rack that was pressing up against him and leaving him no room to escape? This one was going to catch you an assault charge.
She crossed the room towards you and Jay let out a breath. "She's either brave or stupid."
"I'm going with stupid," Will said.
"Hi," she said, giving Will and Jay a once-over before settling her gaze on you. "Is that your fiancé over there?"
She pointed at Kelly, who was crossing the room towards you. Your shoulders were tense as you said, "Yes."
"Cool, I just wanted to let you know that I'm taking him home with me," the woman said. "You can come with us and watch or he can tell you about it in the morning."
"Yeah, definitely stupid," Will muttered to his brother.
Jay gawked in disbelief. The audacity of this woman to speak to you - their baby sister - like that had both of them raising their hackles, prepared to jump in should you lash out. Herrmann, who stood at the bar just behind the three of you, grimaced. "Yeah, bad move, blondie."
Those closest to you had gone quiet, waiting for your reaction. Instead of swinging for her like they anticipated you doing, you rose from your seat. The blonde didn't back down, folding her arms and giving you a smug look. With a glare as cold as ice, you shoved her backwards and intercepted Kelly, who had just reached you.
"Hey, sweetheart-"
You grabbed the collar of his shirt and hauled him towards you. Shocked for a second by the boldness of your action, Kelly eventually caught up with you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He pulled you close as a few hollers and wolf-whistles serenaded the two of you. You kissed him like your life depended on it, staking a claim that would be impossible to ignore. Everybody in the bar would know that this man was yours and no bottle-blonde Barbie was going to change that.
When you finally pulled away after an inappropriately long time, you smiled at the man you loved. Kelly's eyes were wide, his pupils blown as he stared at you like you'd fallen from the heavens into his arms. So in love he was dumbstruck, you swiped your thumb over his lip in an attempt to wipe away your lipstick stain, but you just smeared it further across his chin.
"Your lipstick's all over me," he whispered.
"Better my lipstick all over you than her blood on my hands." You turned to the blonde woman as though remembering that she was there. "Want to tell me you're taking my fiancé home again or do you want to leave with what's left of your dignity still intact? I still have it in me to throw a punch."
Kelly's arm tightened on your waist, an indication that you would not be throwing any punches that night.
The blonde scoffed, said nothing, then stalked out of the bar.
When she was gone, Jay and Will rose from their stools. Both wore matching looks, impressed by your self-restraint.
"You know if you'd hit her, you probably wouldn't have faced any charges," Jay said. "What she said was a threat to you and your sense of safety, so you would have been well within your right to defend yourself."
"Not that he should be advocating for you punching people," Will said.
"So you're telling me I can hit her and Voight can get me out of it?" you asked. Jay pulled a face that told you he regretted telling you that. "Wow, let me see if she's still out-"
"Yeah, that's a no," Kelly interjected, winding his arms around you and pulling you back into his embrace. "No punching."
You heaved a sigh. "I feel like I deserve it after handling that so maturely."
"Maturely?" Herrmann echoed. "You just mauled Severide in front of the whole bar!" He slid a fresh drink towards you- your favourite. "Here. On the house for not starting a fight."
"Jury's not out on whether I won't," you said.
"No fights," Jay said sternly.
Rolling your eyes, you turned back to Kelly, who was still looking at you like he couldn't believe you existed. "Why do you look so awestruck?"
"I fully thought you were going to hit her," he said. "You know I didn't agree to go back to her place, right?"
"I know," you said. "Now, can I finish my drink and take you home, Lieutenant? There's some things I want to do that Herrmann wouldn't appreciate us doing in his bar."
Behind you, Will and Jay made noises of disgust. Will said, "Please remember that we're still here."
You turned to them, tucked under Kelly's arm where you belonged. "You know me well enough to know that I don't care."
Kelly gave your brothers an apologetic look. "Sorry, guys."
Jay sighed. "Don't be. I'm just glad there's been no fighting tonight."
You grinned. "I can handle things in a mature way, I'll have you know."
"The lipstick stain on Severide's face says otherwise."
You get to keep a copy of that post FOREVER. Tumblr is not like Twitter in that if OP deletes the original post, all the shared versions of the post will be deleted as well. This is how Tumblr still has posts from 100000 years ago circulating around.
You get to classify posts with your own tagging system. It makes finding things easier. Searching a blog using tags is also more reliable than searching with keywords.
You get to leave comments in the tags of the reblog! It’s handy when you wanna react to the post but are too shy to talk to OP and/or others in the reblog chain.
You get an archive/scrapbook of all the things you like, which you can then showcase with pretty custom themes.
You get to identify as part of a community. Among fandom blogs, fellow fans will know you’re one of them if you actually reblog things. Any outsider can leave a like, but it takes a fan or someone really interested in something to dare to reblog.
You get to make friends! People follow other people based on what their blog is like. If your blog is empty, then what’s the point of following you?
You give the impression that you care about what other people say, and it will make others look at you more nicely (empty blogs can be suspicious).
You are less likely to be blocked by artists/writers. (I’ve seen some posts from artists/writers saying that they’ll block spam likers.)
You are less likely to be mistaken as a bot or a creep (again, empty blogs are sus).
SUMMARY: It was oddly domestic, sitting on the sink in one of the station bathrooms while Adam used a wad of wet tissue to gently wipe the remaining blood from your face. If you weren't fighting off a headache, it might have actually been kind of romantic.
WARNINGS: Reader gets punched in the face (not heavily described)
W/C: 1.2k
PROMPT: "You're like if an angel had a very severe ketamine problem."
"Oh, Jesus!"
"Holy crap, what happened to you?"
"Is your face okay?"
You were covered in blood, holding a wad of tissue to your nose as you walked back into the Intelligence bullpen. Jay was trailing behind you, a strange combination of amusement and concern on his face as Adam rose from his desk to rush in your direction. The others - Kim, Kevin and Antonio - were watching in disbelief. It wasn't unusual for you to injure yourself, but this was new.
Adam reached for you despite your gentle swats to bat his hands away, one hand latching onto your wrist to pull the wad of tissue away from your face in order to assess the damage. His expression twisted into a look of discomfort.
"Not pretty?" you guessed.
"You're a mess. Jesus Christ, what happened?" he asked, looking more to Jay for answers than you. He knew better than to ask you.
"Well, we were tailing our perp and our resident idiot decided to get into a brawl in the street with him," Jay said.
"That is not what happened!" you argued. "He was going to get away, I stepped in and when I didn't get out of his way, he punched me in the face." You grinned. "It was awesome!"
Adam winced at the state of you. Your eyes were already bruised, but it wasn't half as bad as he'd expected it to be. There was dried blood all over your face, but you didn't seem to care. On the contrary, you seemed quite excited about getting to tell your story.
Voight emerged from his office and surveyed the scene in his bullpen. He pointed at you. "You been checked out at Med?"
"For a punch to the face? Sarge, I'm fine," you said.
Adam raised his eyebrows. "No dizziness? Headaches?"
"I'm fine," you insisted, batting away his hands and pressing the tissue back to your nose. "I just need a clean shirt and I'm good to go."
"I've got one in my locker," Adam said. "C'mon."
"Get yourself cleaned up," Voight said. "If you think you're alright to stay, that's fine, but the first sign of anything wrong, you get straight to Med."
"It was one punch," you said, rolling your eyes as Adam tugged on your hand to pull you towards the locker room. "And I got him good!"
"That's true," Jay said. "I think she might've broken his nose."
"Score!"
Adam didn't let go of you until you were both in the locker room. He sat you down on one of the benches, opened his locker and rummaged for a clean shirt. You sat and watched, knowing better than to attempt anything else.
He tossed you the shirt when he found it and you caught it with one hand. "That should fit."
"I'm sure it will," you said, getting to your feet. Tossing your bloody tissue into the trash, you sniffed slightly and said, "I think my nose has stopped bleeding! Jay was so stressed that I was going to bleed all over his car."
"I'm not surprised," Adam said. "Get changed and then we'll clean up your face."
"Yes, Doctor," you said.
Reaching for the hem of your shirt, you pulled it up and Adam let out an odd, strangled noise. "What are you doing?"
"Changing?" you replied, still halfway through removing your shirt. "C'mon, it's nothing you haven't seen before."
"We're at work," Adam protested. "It's a bit different to when we're at home."
You grinned, pulled off your shirt and tossed it at Adam. He caught it with a disgruntled huff as you pulled his shirt over your head. "You weren't complaining last night."
"Because we were alone," Adam said. "God, you give me high blood pressure."
In response, you patted Adam's chest. "Gotta keep you on your toes."
"You're gonna be the reason I'm six feet under," Adam replied, catching your hand before you could disappear again. "C'mere, I'm not done with you yet."
"Aw, you want a kiss?" you cooed, puckering your lips.
"Absolutely not," he replied. "You're covered in blood."
"Do I look cool?" you asked.
"Yeah, sure you do, Rocky," he replied. "Let's clean you up. Then maybe I'll think about kissing you. If you sit still."
It was oddly domestic, sitting on the sink in one of the precinct bathrooms while Adam used a wad of wet tissue to gently wipe the remaining blood from your face. If you weren't fighting off a headache, it might have actually been kind of romantic.
Your legs were parted, giving him ample space to stand between them and pay attention to what he was doing. Your hands danced over his chest, playfully trying to distract him as you tilted your head back and let him work.
When your hand rose a little too close to his face, he playfully attempted to bite your fingers and you giggled. "We're at work, Mr Ruzek. Save that for the bedroom."
"You're a freak," he told you, stepping away. "There. You look pretty again."
"I always look pretty," you replied, reaching out to grab him by the shirt. "Now, c'mere and kiss me. I sat still."
"I guess you did," he said.
He obliged your request and leaned in to kiss you, taking extra care not to bump his nose against yours. By the time he pulled away, his cheeks were flushed and his breathing was heavy.
"Thanks for playing doctor," you said softly.
"Let's not make a habit out of it," Adam said.
You slid off the sink and grinned up at him. "No promises."
Heading back up to the bullpen, you noticed the way Kevin looked up as he saw you coming. "Hey, there's our MMA fighter."
You flexed your biceps and puffed out your chest. "That's me. I'm a winner, baby."
"You got socked in the nose," Jay said. "How is that a win?"
"We caught the guy," you said, dropping your arms to your sides. "Is that not a win? Plus, I got to punch someone in the face."
"How can you make that sound so innocent?" Jay asked.
"Because I am a sweet and innocent human being," you replied.
"I don't know about that." Adam followed you into the bullpen, shaking his head in amusement. "You're like if an angel had a very severe ketamine problem."
"All I'm hearing is that you think I'm an angel."
"Yeah, on drugs."
"I don't need drugs to have a good time," you said, sitting down at your desk. "Although, does anybody have any Advil? I got punched in the face and despite what I told Voight, my head hurts."
Adam rolled his eyes, but went to his desk drawer where he kept his painkillers. He tossed you the bottle and you caught it with a wicked grin. "Not quite the hard drugs you think I do, but these'll work."
"I'm not sure you need hard drugs," Kevin said. "You got enough energy in you to power a small city."
You tossed back a couple of Advils and shrugged. "Somebody's gotta keep it fun around here."
"I'm not sure getting punched in the face constitutes as fun," Jay said.
"Maybe not, but getting nursed back to healthy by Nurse Ruzek was fun for me," you replied, winking at Adam.
SUMMARY: It was just another day on the job for you, but for the man you saved it might as well have been a blessing from the heavens. The only problem? He doesn’t understand that you’re not interested. The solution? Matt stakes his claim.
Kelly turned at the sound of a voice behind him, finding a man standing awkwardly in the doorway. He had his arm in a sling and was holding a bunch of flowers in the other. “I’m looking for a paramedic that works here."
“Which one?” Kelly asked.
“Severide?”
“Oh, right,” Kelly said, nodding. “I’ll get her. Wait there.”
He left the man by the engines and headed inside. You weren’t in the kitchen, but Herrmann pointed out that there was only one other place you could possibly be if you weren’t there. Kelly headed through the bunk room, finding you curled up in your usual spot, napping on Matt’s bed while he did paperwork at the desk.
Rapping his knuckles on the doorframe, Kelly watched you shift beneath the blanket. “You got a visitor.”
"Matty, you got a visitor," you grumbled, still not appearing from your spot.
"No, uh, actually, they're looking for you," Kelly said.
You groaned, stretching out like a cat before flopping back down. “Tell ‘em I’m busy. Tell 'em I moved to England. Tell 'em to go away.”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Go.”
You huffed, swinging your legs over the edge of his bed. “Who is it?”
“Some guy,” Kelly said. “Came in looking for you.”
“A guy?” Matt asked, raising his eyebrows. He twisted in his chair to look at you. “Stepping out on me?”
“You caught me,” you said dryly. “My secret boyfriend is here. I've been exposed!”
Matt pressed a hand to his chest, wounded. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”
You rose from the bed, moving toward Matt and wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you said, “You know I love you too much to do that, honey.”
“Better go see what this guy wants,” Matt said. “Want me to come with you?”
“I’m a big girl, Matthew.” You were halfway out the door with a giggle. “I can look after myself.”
Kelly, for Matt’s sake, said, “I’ll go with her.”
“Thanks.”
You headed out to where the engines were, smiling at the man politely as he saw you coming. Kelly was right on your heels, standing somewhat protectively behind you like some sort of overattentive guard dog.
“Uh, hi,” the man said. “I don’t know if you remember me, but-“
“I remember you,” you assured him. “How’s that arm healing up?”
“Doc says I should be out of the sling in a few weeks,” he replied. He held out the flowers. “I brought you these to say thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t shown up.”
You and Sylvie had been helping victims of a multi-car pile-up a week or so ago and you’d been the one to help the man with his injuries. He’d been scraped and bruised, his shoulder dislocated after he had been forced to lunge out of the way of an oncoming car. Fortunately, his wounds were superficial, so you’d popped his shoulder back into place for him, patched him up and sent him on in an ambulance to get his shoulder checked out at Med. You’d thought that would be the end of it.
“I’m sure another paramedic would’ve helped you out,” you said, taking the flowers. “But thank you. These are beautiful.”
"How about you let me take you out for dinner tomorrow night?" he suggested. "As a thank you for saving my life."
You were about to tell him that a dislocated shoulder didn't exactly equate to you saving his life, but thought better of it. Instead, you forced another smile as Kelly bristled behind you.
"Thank you for the offer, but I was just doing my job," you said. "And it wouldn't be appropriate for us to have dinner together."
"Yeah," Kelly said. "These things happen, man. You fall in love with the person that saved you, but I promise it'll wear off after a while."
The man glanced at Kelly before his eyes flickered back to you. "I've been thinking about you all week. I don't think it's wearing off anytime soon."
Now you definitely felt uneasy. "I appreciate it, truly, but I'm going to have to say no."
"Saved by the bell," you breathed. "I'm sorry, I have to go."
"Right, right," the man said, his expression melting back into that charming smile. Like the innocent flower, but the snake beneath unnerved you. "Duty calls."
You threw the flowers onto the Squad table before turning tail to run to the ambulance. Kelly grabbed you by the arm before you could disappear, wrenching you around to face him.
"Watch that guy," he warned. "I got a bad feeling."
"Me too," you replied. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."
"Hey, Baby Severide, these just got dropped off for you."
Otis walked in with another flower arrangement in his hands. You'd been sitting with Matt in the kitchen, scrolling through real estate listings to try and find a new apartment. The one you shared now was fine, but the lease was almost up and you both agreed that maybe somewhere new would be fun. You both wanted something more permanent, so were looking to buy. A fixer-upper would keep Matt busy and give you something to do in your free time.
Lifting your head, you furrowed your eyebrows. "Any idea who they're from?"
"There's no note," Otis said, sliding the flowers onto the table. "Just got given 'em and told they're for you."
Matt eyed the flowers like they'd personally spited him. You said, "I take it these weren't from you?"
"You hate roses," he pointed out.
"True, I do," you said. "Give them to Herrmann. Tell him he can give them to Cindy."
Otis snorted. "Recycling, I see how it is."
"Cindy'll like them more than I do," you replied. "Or you can keep them. You a rose man, Otis?"
"Nah, I'm good," Otis said. "Anybody seen Herrmann?"
"Last I saw him, he was out by the trucks," Cruz replied. When Otis had gone, carting the stupidly large bouquet with him, Cruz turned to you and said, "Have you got a secret admirer we don't know about?"
"Probably that guy from the pile-up a few weeks ago," you said, slumping back in your seat. "He asked me to go to dinner and I said no. He's the only one I can think of."
You'd told Matt about the weird encounter with the man and he hadn't been best pleased about it. When Kelly backed you up and said that the man gave off a strange vibe, Matt's concern had only grown. You weren't entirely worried, but the flowers arriving had sent a flutter of unease through your stomach. This had happened before, to other people in your crew. Hell, Kelly even ended up dating one of the women who he saved, but this wasn't like that.
There was nobody in this world for you if they weren't Matt. You'd both been friends before drifting so casually into something more that it was hard to pinpoint exactly when it happened. One night you'd been eating dinner on his couch, then the next morning you'd woken up in his bed, wrapped in his arms and tangled in his sheets. Kelly hadn't even been mad about it, because there was nobody in the world he trusted more with his sister's life than Matt.
"If he comes around here again, I'll set him straight," Matt said, tugging you close enough to kiss your temple.
"Thanks, honey," you cooed. "My hero."
"Ambulance 61, person in distress-"
You sighed. "Duty calls."
"Be safe," Matt called after you, watching you rise from your seat and run for the ambulance.
"Always am!"
"So you think this guy sent the flowers?" Sylvie asked.
You shrugged, turning onto the street you needed to be on. "I don't know. Maybe? I got a bad feeling about him when he first showed up."
"But he hasn't shown up since?" Sylvie asked. "So maybe it's not as bad as you thought?"
"I don't know," you said again. "I hope I'm just being dramatic, but even Kelly said he didn't like the read he got on the guy."
Sylvie cringed. "Well, I'm sure if he shows up again then Matt will have plenty to say."
"I dread to think of it," you sighed, pulling the ambulance into an empty spot on the street. "Alright, let's go."
You and Sylvie grabbed your bags and ran up to the front door of the house you'd been sent to. Banging on the door, you shouted, "Paramedics! Anybody home?"
"In here!" came a distant reply.
You tried the handle and found the door locked. With a sigh, you handed your jump bag to Sylvie and said, "Stand back."
"What are you-?"
She broke off with a surprised gasp as you lined yourself up with the door, raised your foot and kicked it open. As the door banged against the wall, Sylvie gawked like she didn't recognise you.
"Where did you learn to do that?" she asked.
"I got Jay Halstead to teach me," you replied, taking your bag. "C'mon." You headed into the house. "Hello?"
"Through here!"
You walked through to the kitchen, finding a man sitting with his back to you. Even from behind, you recognised him, so when he turned to you there was no surprise in your expression. It was your secret admirer.
"Oh, thank God!" he exclaimed. "I was trying to prepare some vegetables for dinner and the knife slipped and, well, with the sling and all-"
You saw the blood coating the kitchen counter and the man's sleeve, soaking the towel he'd pressed over the wound.
"Okay, sir, I'm going to take a look," you said.
Sylvie was watching anxiously. She recognised the tells in your composure, the way your shoulders stiffened and your voice changed to a more professional tone. That only happened when you felt like you were in some sort of danger. She'd been your partner long enough to know how you reacted to certain situations and this made her feel uneasy.
"You say the knife slipped?" you asked. "Were you using your left hand?"
The one in the sling.
"No, it slipped out of my hand and when I went to grab it, it caught my arm."
"Right."
"Boy, am I glad they sent you," he said. "I was hoping they would." He grimaced as you removed the towel, revealing a bleeding wound on his arm that immediately sent up warning signs. "Did you get the flowers I sent you?"
"Oh, that was you?" you asked, voice hollow. "Yes, they were great. Thanks."
"Have you reconsidered my offer of dinner?" he asked.
"Sir, with all due respect, I'm trying to help you here," you said. "And no, I haven't reconsidered."
His expression turned stony, but he said nothing else and let you do your job.
By the time you and Sylvie were leaving his house, you were rattled and tossed your jump bag into the back of the ambulance carelessly.
"You okay?" Sylvie asked.
"He didn't slip with the knife," you said. "He did it to himself on purpose."
"Why would he do that?" Sylvie asked.
"I don't know," you replied. "And I don't want to know."
"Well, if it isn't my favourite bartender."
You rolled your eyes as Matt appeared at the bar, grinning at you from across the wooden countertop.
"You shameless flirt," you teased.
"Can I not appreciate the prettiest bartender in Molly's?" Matt asked.
"Don't let Herrmann hear you saying that," you replied.
Matt chuckled. "Of course, wouldn't want to damage his ego."
"The usual?" you asked.
"Yeah, please," Matt said. "And one for you. C'mon, take a break, come sit with me."
"I can't," you said, handing Matt his beer. "There's nobody else to watch the bar."
"Put Otis behind there," Matt suggested.
"Hm, no, last time I did that he dropped a glass in the ice tray," you said. "He's on time out."
Matt leaned his elbows on the bar. "C'mere then."
Giggling, you leaned over to kiss him. Matt reached a hand up, catching the back of your neck and keeping you close for longer than was acceptable for a public kiss before he let you go. Pulling away, you shook your head in mock disapproval.
"Matthew Casey, you are a terrible man," you said.
"Can you blame me?" he asked. "You look great tonight."
"I look great every night," you said.
"Well, yes, but I hardly think it's appropriate to say that you look great in nothing-"
"Matt!" you hissed, cheeks heating up as you looked around. "You're in public."
"Yeah, and I'm right here," Kelly grumbled from his spot at the bar, an empty stool all that separated him from you and Matt. "Let's keep it PG."
Matt grinned. "Sorry, man."
"Yeah, no you're not." Kelly looked at you. "What are you laughing at?"
"Sorry, sorry," you said, covering your mouth with your hand. "This is just super awkward. Oh, what's that? You're waiting? Be right there!"
You darted off towards the other end of the bar, leaving Matt and Kelly together. Matt slid onto the empty stool beside Kelly, rolling his beer bottle between his hands.
"You good?" Kelly asked.
"Yeah, just thinking about that guy," Matt said.
"Yeah, me too," Kelly replied.
The man had shown up at the firehouse again a few days ago, but fortunately you'd been out on a call with Sylvie. He'd left yet another bouquet of flowers, this time with a note that all but demanded you reconsider and let him take you out. Herrmann had sent him away with a reminder that you weren't interested in him and Matt had thrown out the flowers - roses again - before you got back. They'd all agreed not to tell you that the man had shown up, not wanting to worry you.
It worried Matt, though.
While there was nothing they could do because there was no evident threat to your safety, it didn't sit well with him that there was a man out there that was seemingly obsessed with you. Although he knew that you'd never look at another man, that wasn't the point and he felt like he couldn't do anything to protect you from this.
"Hey, if he shows up, we'll figure it out," Kelly assured him. "Although maybe he finally got the hint after Herrmann laid into him."
"I hope so," Matt muttered.
He looked over to you, laughing at the end of the bar with Herrmann and Otis. As though drawn to his gaze, you met Matt's eye and gave him that smile that was only reserved for him; the one that told him everything he needed to know without you having to say anything. I love you. That was enough for him and he returned the smile with one of his own.
I love you too.
"This guy will not get the hint." Herrmann eyed the man that walked into the firehouse. "I swear, I'm not one for violence but he needs to get knocked upside-"
"Hey, easy," you said, laying a hand on Herrmann's arm. "It'll be fine." Then you added as an afterthought, "Any idea where Matt is?"
"Nope," Herrmann replied, glancing around. "Hey, Otis! Go find Casey for me, will you?"
"Why?"
"Just do it!" Herrmann said. "Tell him the flower guy is here again."
The man approached you and Herrmann, eyes shifting between the two of you. Herrmann had moved to stand just in front of you, his shoulder acting as a barricade that kept you well out of reaching distance.
"Can we help you with something?" he asked.
"You can't, no," the man said, eyes moving to you. "But you can. Look, I'm not in a sling anymore and the cut on my arm has healed nicely."
You forced a smile. "I can see that. That's great. Can we help you?"
"I was hoping now that I'm fully healed that you'd consider rethinking my offer of dinner," the man said. "I'd really like to take you out and I think we'd have a really great time-"
"I'm still not interested," you said. "Please hear me when I say that I think you're a nice guy, but I'm just not interested in you."
"But you saved my life," he said. "I have to return the favour."
"I was doing my job," you replied. "I save people's lives all the time."
Herrmann was tense beside you, watching the man's every move like a hawk. "Look, man, I think you should go and not come back-"
"I'm not leaving until you agree to go out with me," the man said. "One dinner is all I ask. I sent you flowers-"
"She doesn't even like roses!" snapped a voice from behind you. There was a hand on your back then, a familiar presence as Matt slipped into the empty space beside you. "You keep sending roses. She doesn't like them."
"Well, if she'd agreed on dinner, she could've told me-"
"She said she didn't want to go out with you," Matt said sharply. "Can you not get the hint that she's not interested?"
"What, are you her bodyguard or something?" the man asked.
"I'm her husband."
If you weren't so skilled at keeping your expression neutral, you would have looked surprised. Herrmann, it seemed, wasn't quite as prepared as you and his eyes widened.
The man glowered at you. "You're married?"
You shrugged. "Yeah."
"You could've just told me that," he said.
"Why should she have to?" Matt asked. "You should have respected her enough to accept that she wasn't interested without her having to mention her relationship for you to get the memo. I wasn't going to say anything, but you've pissed me off. If you don't leave now, I will be getting the police involved."
The man looked at you in disbelief. "You could have just told me."
"Again, why should she have you?" Matt asked. "You don't respect a woman saying no simply because she doesn't like you? She has to have a partner for you to finally back off? You do this with a lot of women?"
The man clenched his fists at his sides but said nothing. Without another word, he stormed out of the firehouse and Herrmann called after him, "She'd have eaten you alive, son!"
Snorting with laughter at Herrmann's parting blow, you turned to Matt as he tightened his arm around your waist. "Thank you."
"Sorry if you wanted to handle that yourself," he said. "I couldn't just stand by and watch."
You rose onto your toes and kissed Matt, ignoring the way Herrmann groaned in disgust behind you. When you pulled away, you said, "I don't mind having you in my corner."
"Always," Matt replied. "Although you should probably go and tell your brother that we dealt with it. Otis and Cruz are distracting him right now."
"Jesus Christ," you grumbled, reluctantly leaving Matt's embrace. You got a few steps away before turning back and running at him. Colliding with his body, he was prepared for you and caught you in his arms as you kissed him once again.
This time, you laughed against his lips as Herrmann said, "My God! You guys are gross! Take it somewhere else!"
When Matt finally put you down, his cheeks were flushed and his lips were swollen. "What was that for?"
"I just love you," you replied.
His smile was bright as he said, "That's enough for me."
This follows on from a previous post, but can be read as a standalone. Read the first part HERE.
PAIRING: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: It was supposed to be a simple favour. A friend helping out a friend. It wasn't real, but he wanted it to be. The boundaries had blurred and Jay knew he'd never be the same now that he knew what it felt like to kiss you.
WARNINGS: None!
W/C: 2.0k
A simple favour.
That’s what he kept telling himself, but he knew right from the jump that it would never be that easy. The moment you gave him that pleading look and asked him to be your fake date to a high school reunion, he knew he was putting himself in dangerous waters.
You were his partner.
His eyes.
You were the reason he made it out of every case with his life.
Every undercover job he'd done, every case he'd taken, every fight he'd made it out of alive, had all been because you existed in the world and he would never forgive himself if he left you behind. He had you to come back to after every fake persona he adopted, able to slip back into being Jay because you were waiting for him.
Stepping into the role of your fake husband was the most dangerous undercover role he'd ever committed himself to.
Pretending was easy for him; it was part of the job, but this didn't feel like pretending to him. He'd gone out and bought a fake ring for you, stopped to get flowers on his way to your apartment and proceeded to hold you in ways that went above and beyond what was expected of him.
Truthfully, he wanted to. He wanted to be the man you went home to every night, the one that kissed you goodnight and woke you up in the mornings with breakfast. Jay wanted that with you.
When you walked out of the reunion, you seemed in much better spirits than before. You hadn't wanted to go. High-school bullies had flocked in their masses to this event and if not for Jay being by your side, you doubted you'd have lasted ten minutes in that crowded bar.
"Thank you for coming with me, Jay," you said, tucked under his arm that he had draped across your shoulders. "This has been... really good."
"You're welcome," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He didn't need to pretend anymore, but it felt so natural to hold you like this and he didn't want the moment to end.
"It's still early," you said, checking your watch for the time. "Molly's is still open and Herrmann owes me a drink."
"How'd that happen?" Jay asked.
"I babysat his kids last weekend so he and Cindy could have some alone time," you replied. "Me versus five kids? Hardest job I've ever worked."
Jay laughed. "Sounds good to me."
Neither of you addressed the elephant in the room on the way to Molly's. You didn't want to shatter whatever illusion had fallen over you like a veil and made you think that this had a chance at being something real. Jay kept glancing over at you whenever he stopped his car at red lights, reaching across the centre console to squeeze your knee when a love song started playing over the radio. It made your chest tight with emotions you had been repressing for so long, desperate to ask him if he felt anything remotely close to what you did.
When you walked into Molly's, Jay had one hand on your back to usher you through the door before him. The moment Herrmann laid eyes on you from behind the bar, a grin split his features and he held up his hands.
"Ah, there she is!" he hollered. "How'd the reunion go, Giggles?"
Going along with the running joke, you giggled and weaved through the crowd towards the bar. Catching Jay by the hand, you tugged him with you and he followed. Reaching Herrmann, who had your drink ready for you and a beer beside it for Jay, you leaned across the bar and kissed his cheek.
"It went really well," you replied.
"See, I told you it'd be fine," he said, pointing at you. "You should start trusting me on these things." He eyed Jay and a smirk appeared on his face. "This the fake husband?"
"Indeed," you said, flashing the ring for Herrmann to see. "Worked like a charm."
"Yeah, we really showed them," Jay said, reaching for his beer. "Thanks, man."
"No problem," Herrmann said. "It's on me. Looking out for my favourite girl deserves a free beer."
"I'd do it again," Jay said, tapping the neck of his bottle against your glass as you raised it towards him. "To you, the best fake wife I ever had."
"And to you, the best fake husband I'll ever have."
Jay drove you home, listening to you singing along to the songs on the radio with a smile on your face. You'd had a few drinks at Molly's, bumping into Severide and a few of the Firehouse 51 crew, all of whom had asked you to recount the events of the reunion. Jay had hovered nearby, watching with a proud smile on his face as you let your excitement shine through. This was your element, where you didn't have to pretend for the sake of the crowd. Everybody in this bar adored you and it showed in the way Kelly hauled you in for a hug and Casey gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek as you finally said your goodbyes and made your way back over to Jay.
You still hadn't taken off the fake ring.
He walked you to your door like a gentleman and when you stopped with your key in hand and turned to him, you said, "I've had a really great night, Jay. Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me," he said. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat if you asked. Being your fake husband is the best job I've ever had."
You twisted the ring on your finger uncertainly, before carefully pulling it off. "You should have this back."
"Nah, keep it." It was a moment of boldness as he realised that he couldn't let this moment pass without speaking the truth. "Keep it and one day I'll replace it with a real one. Look, I don't know if you feel the same way, but I gotta say this or I'll walk away and regret it. I had a really great time with you tonight. You're my best friend and I can't imagine anybody else taking your place." He closed the distance between you and cradled your face in his hands. "I don't want this to just be a fake thing. I want it to be real."
You kissed Jay once at the reunion, but that was for show. When you reached for the back of his neck and pulled him down to meet your lips in a searing kiss, it was because you wanted to. Jay met you in the middle and pushed you backwards against the door of your apartment, caging you in with his arms and kissing you like a man starved.
The action spoke loud enough, but you pulled away just enough to whisper against his lips, "I don't want it to be fake either."
That was all the confirmation that Jay needed to gently tug your key from between your fingers and unlock your apartment door. The moment it swung open, you jumped and he caught you in his arms, hands hooked beneath your thighs to keep you close. He moved through your apartment with practiced ease, having been here enough that he'd memorised the layout.
Your key clinked in the dish on the dresser in the hall, your bag thudded to the floor where you tossed it and Jay kicked the door closed with one foot.
This had been a long time coming and he was going to make it count.
He wasn't wasting another second pretending you weren't made for him.
You woke in the morning with a weight across your chest. Jay's arm was slung over your body, trapping you in his warmth, his soft breath tickling your ear as you lay there for a moment and let the reality sink in.
Every boundary you'd ever set with Jay had shattered last night. You had always looked at what could be through a pane of frosted glass, never truly knowing but always desperate to find out. Gone was the unknown. The glass had broken as you hurtled through, and the mosaic that the fragments had formed was the most beautiful thing you'd ever made.
Glancing at your alarm clock, you realised it was still early. You didn't have to be at work for another few hours, so you rolled over in Jay's arms and poked his shoulder. A sleepy smile tugged at his lips and a quiet hum rumbled in his throat.
"G'morning," he mumbled.
"Good morning," you replied.
"Can we just stay like this forever?" he asked.
"As much as I would love to, we have jobs we need to get to," you reminded him. "C'mon, I'll make you breakfast."
"Mm, no," Jay grumbled, tightening his arms around you. "I'll make you breakfast."
So he did.
Standing in your kitchen, Jay whipped up a storm while you sat on the counter and watched with a mug clasped in your hands. He was shirtless, wearing his dress slacks from the night before and little else. You had his button-down on and a pair of cotton sleep shorts.
It felt so domestic, like this was how it was meant to be, and as you both sat together on your couch to eat, Jay shifted until he was wedged against you.
"So," he said, poking at his scrambled eggs with a fork. "About last night-"
"Were you serious?" you asked. "About wanting to make something out of this?"
Jay almost couldn't believe what you were saying. "Of course I am. I know it took me being your fake husband for me to finally tell you, but I meant every word I said, even when we were at that reunion." He pointed his fork in your direction. "You're my favourite person."
"You're mine, too," you said, a little sheepish.
"Hey, hey," Jay said, discarding his fork to tilt your chin up when you let your eyes drift down. "Don't do that. Be confident, because you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met and I'd be so proud to call you mine."
"Okay," you said.
"This is the start of something," Jay said. "Something good."
Something real.
A year later, Jay Halstead put a ring on the finger of the woman he loved. A real ring, representing a real love that existed between two souls. The moment he got down on one knee, promising to love you for the rest of his life, you had flung yourself into his embrace and promised to never let a day go by without telling him how loved he was in turn.
The two of you were the 'it' couple of the 21st District. Everybody knew that the two of you were together and even began referring to you as Mrs Halstead the moment the news of your relationship hit the gossip line. Voight was confusingly lenient about the two of you dating, since he presumed you'd been seeing one another well before you came clean to him about it.
The ring Jay gave you reminded you of the one he'd given you the night he pretended to be your husband. It was beautiful and the moment he slid the jewellery into place on your finger, you knew in your heart that he was right all that time ago. This was the something good you'd been waiting your entire life for.
Six months after Jay proposed, the two of you got married.
In a quiet ceremony surrounded by only your immediate friends and family, you and Jay tied the knot and sealed your union with a sweet kiss. You took the party to Molly's, which had been closed to the public for the event where you and Jay were the guests of honour.
You were whisked through the crowd for most of the night, trying to see everybody and thank them for being there. By the time you found Jay again, he draped an arm across your shoulders the way he always did and pulled you close. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before catching your lips in another.
Even though this began with the two of you pretending to be married, you knew it had been worth it. Jay had used that as his way to make you his and you would be forever grateful for that high-school reunion that forced you two together.
SUMMARY: There had been a scary degree of calm in the bullpen since you'd all returned from your failed sting on Derek Keyes. It was only natural that your fuse blew after trying to contain it for so long. [Based on 3x01 of Chicago PD]
WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, mentions and depictions of torture, violence, gunshots, stabbings, medical treatments, etc.
W/C: 2.5k
"FUCK!"
Adam and Antonio whipped around at the sound of your voice, watching your hands sweep the contents of your desk to the floor. Glass cracked in the frames of photos and pencils rolled into the void of filing cabinet undersides. Loose papers scattered across the floor, documents and reports taking a tumble in the path of your fury. What little remained near enough to your feet was kicked away as you paced back and forth in the Intelligence bullpen, hand on your forehead as you tried to steady your breathing.
"Guess we shoulda seen that coming," Adam said.
There had been a scary degree of calm in the bullpen since you'd returned from your failed sting on Derek Keyes without Jay. He'd been abducted while you and your team had been detained for too long by airport security. They'd taken him and you had been too late, running onto the scene only to find the body of Keyes' brother. The shout of frustration you'd released had echoed through the hangar.
On the way back to the 21st District, you'd been unsettlingly calm. Staring out of the window as Antonio drove, you'd walked into the district without a word to anybody, heading upstairs per Voight's instruction to figure out your next moves.
It was only natural that your fuse blew after trying to contain it for so long.
"How could we let this happen?" You kicked a stress ball Jay had once gotten you as a joke. It ricocheted off a filing cabinet and disappeared across the office. "What the hell are we going to do?"
"Hey, hey," Kev said, coming to grab you by the shoulders and force you to stop pacing. He'd taken one for the team after Antonio and Adam stepped back and out of the line of fire. Nobody wanted to approach you when you were angry. Jay was the only one that could, so him being absent left them in uncharted waters. "We're going to get him back."
"That's not the point!" you argued. "The point is he's out there somewhere, probably being hurt because of us!" Your voice cracked with the strain of the emotional turmoil swirling in your chest. "They took him."
You heard Voight call your name and saw him jogging up the stairs with Olinsky in tow. He saw the mess surrounding you, still standing locked in Kev's hold. "As much as I love what you've done with the place, you need to calm down."
A collective breath was drawn. Nobody had wanted to be the one to tell you that, and they all braced for impact in case you went nuclear. Instead, your shoulders sagged and your entire being deflated. A defeated huff forced itself past your lips and you looked at Voight with a tremble in your lips.
"What are we going to do?" you asked.
"For now, you're going to take a breath," Voight said, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Tidy up your things. We'll get Halstead back, alright?" He gave you a reassuring, one-armed squeeze. "You got this, okay?"
You forced yourself to nod, not entirely believing him. "Okay."
"Sarge," Trudy called. She'd come upstairs but you'd paid her no mind. You had your head resting on your hand, elbow propped on the desk, staring into nothingness. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrupt, but there's a very determined young man downstairs who says he wants to speak to Detective Y/L/N and her alone."
"No way," Adam said, getting to his feet. "I'll go-"
But you were already moving, feet flying with careless abandon as you practically flung yourself towards the stairs. Voight sighed, turned to Kev and said, "Stay here," before he jogged down the stairs after you.
"That's him," Trudy said, pointing you in the direction of a young boy.
He was holding a bright pink donut box that immediately filled your stomach with dread. The boy stood up. "You the lady detective?"
"I am," you replied.
"I'm supposed to give this to you," he said, handing you the box.
Even as you took it, the dread didn't lift from where it had settled. The box was light - too light - and you glanced at Voight. The fear that you'd open the box and find Jay's fingers was enough to set your own hands trembling, so much so that as you reached for the lid of the box, it took a moment to grasp it with enough force to lift it.
Inside, there was a CD and a burner phone.
You grabbed them both, flung the box to the ground and bolted back upstairs. Voight stayed to question the boy, but you were halfway back to the bullpen before he could even call out for you to wait.
"Antonio!" you called, throwing him the disk. "Play that."
He looked at you, concerned. "Are you sure you want to be here for this?"
"No," you admitted. "But I have to know if he's alive."
In whatever state that may be.
Kev came to stand beside you. His presence was grounding, rooting you in place as Antonio fed the disk into his computer and pulled up the file. Almost immediately, you were affronted by the sight of Jay, suspended by his wrists against an unidentifiable backdrop. He was covered in blood, shirtless and groaning in pain as three men assaulted him.
You flinched with every hit, felt every bolt of electricity from the taser they used on him thrum through your veins. Backing up slightly, Kev intercepted you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He held fast, keeping you steady on your feet as you turned away. It didn't do anything to silence the sound of the man you loved being tortured.
"Oh," you gasped, pressing your face into Kev's chest. "Oh, baby-"
There was silence as Antonio clicked off the footage. Silence, shock, a sense of defeat lingered in the air like a toxic gas, clawing its way down the column of your throats and tangling around the lattices of your ribs.
Voight placed a hand on your shoulder. Kev made to turn you away, but then the burner phone rang. You tried to go for it, but Voight was quicker, lunging for the phone just as your hand snatched at the empty air where it had just been.
You waited with bated breath as Voight went through with the call and once he lowered the phone, you said, "What did he want?"
"Halstead's life for all our CI files."
"I'll do it." There was no room for argument as you insisted on being the ones to drop the files.
Mouse had spent the night creating false CI files to deliver to Keyes, but the others had all voiced their concerns about being caught in the lie. Not to mention concerns about you being the one to make the drop.
You'd spent the night labouring with Mouse, desperately pulling ID photos from prison records to create these false identities. Antonio, Adam, Kev and Olinsky had all tried to talk you down, but you were deaf to reason. Jay was hurting and he was relying on your team to save him. If a female officer was who Keyes wanted, he would get one.
When Olinsky handed you a ceramic blade, you knew he was on your side in this.
"Are you sure you can do this?" Adam asked.
"I'm getting Jay back," you said. "It's not a matter of whether I can or can't do this. I have to." You swallowed. "He'd do it in a heartbeat if it were me."
That was how you found yourself standing on the sidewalk, a box of fake files beside you as an SUV pulled up. Folding your arms, you watched the side window roll down.
"You got what Derek wants?"
"These are all of the CI files," you said, nudging the box with your foot. "Where's Jay?"
"Let's say we take those files," the man in the car said. "We verify them, then we cut your boy loose."
You chuckled, shaking your head. "That wasn't the deal. The files for our guy. It's a straight deal or no dice."
A gun was pulled, but you didn't flinch. This was about getting Jay back. You couldn't afford to panic.
Instead, you raised an eyebrow. "I see him, alive, or I walk with the box."
The guy chuckled. "Looks like you're going for a ride."
"Great," you replied.
Picking up the box, you got into the back seat of the SUV and closed the door behind you. Nobody spoke on the drive to a house that was gated and grander than any you'd ever set foot in before. Shaking your head at the fact that this guy got to live in a palace while you and Jay lived in a crappy two-bedroom apartment, you gathered your box and followed the guys into the house.
"Hey, boss, we got a guest," said the man that pulled the gun on you. "She wouldn't hand over the box until she saw her boy."
"Ah, the lady detective," Keyes said, smiling at you. "Come to collect your boyfriend?"
"Come to collect my partner," you said, dumping the box on the desk. Opening it, you said, "We held up our end. Where is he?"
Keyes glanced at his men. "Go get him." When they left, he gestured to the lines of cocaine he was preparing. "Sure you don't want to do a little bump? Put you in a good mood?"
"No thanks," you replied. "I'm good."
Behind you, Jay was hauled into the room and thrown onto one of the couches. His hands were bound behind his back and there was dried blood all over his face. You moved towards him and knelt on the couch, gently reaching for the tape covering his mouth.
"Jay?" you whispered.
"What are you-?"
"C'mon," you said, cutting across him. "We're getting out of here."
Behind you, a gun clicked. "Hold up. Ain't no way either one of you is walking out of here. Not until these files check out."
You turned back to Jay. "Are you okay?"
He nodded. "What are you doing here?"
"Came for you," you replied.
He almost smiled. "Course you did."
"You'd come for me," you said.
You waited beside Jay as the files went through the checks, one hand on his knee. When the man came back through and reported that the files were all fakes, you rose to your feet in anticipation.
"You thought you could bring me a box of lies?" Keyes asked.
You shrugged. "I just brought the box that they gave me. You want answers, let me make a call."
"I'm done making calls," Keyes said, gesturing to Jay. "Do him first. Make her watch."
One man hauled Jay to his feet while another grabbed you by the arm. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the blade Olinsky had given you and turned, thrusting the blade into the side of the man holding your arm. He groaned in pain and you stabbed him again, and again, and again.
He yelled in frustration, shoved you backwards until your back hit the wall and brought his hand up to your throat. Letting out a scream, you pushed him backwards and he spun, taking you down into a table that shattered beneath you. The wind was knocked out of you and you gasped.
Elsewhere, Jay was struggling to keep Keyes from fleeing while also trying to make sure that you were okay. By the time the fight between you and the man ended, you were covered in blood and struggling for breath. His body collapsed on top of you and you groaned under the weight, shoving him away.
Noticing Keyes making a run for it, you snatched the gun from the waistband of the dead man lying next to you and rolled into a crouch, shooting Keyes once in the shoulder. He staggered and his back hit the wall.
"Don't move," you warned, breathing heavily as you got to your feet. "You're under arrest."
His move was made before his body went into motion. His eyes flitted to the gun on the desk and as Keyes lunged for the weapon, you were ready. Emptying the gun into him, you watched his knees buckle and his body hit the floor.
The moment it was over and there were no more hostiles coming at you, you dropped the gun and raced to Jay's side. Collapsing to your knees, you pressed a hand to his cheek as your frantic eyes scanned his body for life-threatening injuries.
"Jay, baby, are you okay?"
"Are you?" he asked. "You're bleeding- Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," he replied. "It's not mine."
"Chicago PD!" a voice yelled from beyond the office doors.
Relief swelled in your chest, a balloon expanding until it burst forth and you released a sob. "Ruz! It's clear!"
There was a blur after that, a haze over your vision as arms guided you from the building towards the back of an ambulance. One hand was still reaching for Jay even after the paramedics separated the two of you to run checks on you both. A light flashed in your eyes that had you blinking and scowling at the EMT, who apologised but reported that you were going to be fine.
The minute you were cleared by the medics on scene, you moved over to where Jay was sitting on the back of an ambulance. "Hey."
"Hey," he greeted, smiling despite the patchwork of bruises littering his face. "What did they say?"
"All clear," you replied. "You?"
"They're taking me to Med," Jay said. "But I'll be fine." He held out his hand for you to take. "Hey, Antonio said you were-"
"Jay, you got kidnapped," you said quietly, taking his hand and letting him pull you closer. "I had to watch- They tortured you. Whatever Antonio said was because of that."
"Hey, I'm okay," Jay said. He tugged until you were standing between his legs and you reached up to rest a hand on his shoulder. "I'm safe, and I'm glad it was you that walked into that room."
"I wouldn't have let it be anybody else," you replied.
Jay smiled, reaching up to brush his hand across your cheek. Settling it there, he let his thumb trace back and forth. "You coming with me to Med?"
"You think I'm letting you out of my sight after what's just happened?" you asked. "No chance."
When Will came by to check on Jay later that afternoon, he wasn't surprised to find the two of you curled up on his hospital bed, fast asleep. Jay had his arms around you and even in sleep, yours was clinging to his hand as though afraid that he'd slip away again. Another doctor came by and made to wake you both, but Will stopped them.
He looked at the two of you again and said, "Let them sleep."
SUMMARY: It was bad enough you'd wrangled him into pretending to be your husband. Asking him to pretend he didn't do the job he loved as well was something you couldn't do.
WARNINGS: Self-esteem issues (reader), talks of childhood bullying, reader has insecurities but Jay is there to boost her confidence.
W/C: 3.2k
"Why am I not a cop in this scenario?"
"Because these girls will eat you alive if they think your job is anything less than stellar," you said, propping your elbows on your desk and hiding your face in your hands. "And because being a cop isn't a desirable career choice, according to these people."
"Why are you even going if you're that stressed?" Jay asked, leaning back in his chair.
Adam, from his desk, pointed at you. "He's got you there."
"Because!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in frustration. "I bumped into Stephanie while I was getting coffee this morning and the universe clearly hates me because she recognised me and started giving me shit about not replying to that stupid forum about the reunion and when she saw my badge she was giving me more shit about how being a cop is a 'choice'-" you air-quoted the word with a scowl, "-and she didn't mean that as a compliment, let me tell you. Then she started saying that it's okay to be married to your job instead because 'not everybody gets lucky in life to find a man in finance' and I panicked and told her that I was married and so now I really need your help."
Adam's eyes were wide. "Did you breathe through all of that?"
"Barely." You spun your chair to face Jay. "I'll owe you one for this, Jay. Think of it as going undercover. I'll buy you a bottle of whatever you want."
Jay pointed his pen at you. "You need to take a breath, first of all. Seriously, calm down."
You inhaled sharply, releasing through your nose. "And second?"
"What time do you want me to pick you up?"
Your relief was palpable, so much so that even Adam relaxed slightly in his chair as you said, "You'll do it?"
"Yeah, I'll do it," Jay said. "This Stephanie chick made you feel like crap, so I feel it's only right to prove her wrong. You're pretty great."
"You mean that?" You almost didn't believe him.
"Yeah, I mean that."
"Do you have a suit?" you asked.
"Yes, I have a suit," Jay said.
"A nice one?"
He looked offended. "I own nice suits."
"Good, wear one," you said. "I owe you one for this, Jay. Big time."
Adam snorted. "You two are so stupid."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jay asked, a hint of defensiveness in his tone.
"Fake marriage?" Adam asked, looking between you both before settling his gaze on you. "You're so much better than any of those girls, you know that right? You don't have to prove yourself to them, or anyone."
"I know, but you should have heard the way she talked to me," you said, swallowing hard.
"Who cares what they think?" Adam asked. "As long as you're happy, which I presume you are, isn't that all that matters?"
"He's right," Jay agreed. "But I'll still do this for you if it means that much to you."
"Thank you." Your voice was soft, a spoken thanks meant just for Jay.
"Plus, you're smoking hot," Adam said, shrugging. "Like, you're literally one of the hottest women I've ever seen."
The heat in your cheeks came on fast and you smiled at Adam's comment. Glancing at Jay, you found his jaw clenched and his eyes burning holes into Adam. Choosing not to question it, you instead said, "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely," Jay said. "What time do you want me to pick you up?"
He arrived at your apartment a few minutes ahead of schedule, knocking on the door and waiting. When you opened it, still putting in your earrings, Jay held out the bunch of flowers he'd bought for you on the way over to your place. They were different shades of purple (your favourite colour) and your heart warmed at the thought he'd put into that simple gesture.
Jay had been frozen on your doorstep, slack-jawed and awestruck by the sight of you. In the purple dress you were wearing, you might as well have been pulled from the heavens to walk among mortals for the evening. Knowing that he got to walk into a party with you on his arm made him feel like the richest man on the planet. Even if it was fake.
You put the flowers in a vase with some water before grabbing your bag and following Jay down to his car. He opened the door for you and closed it behind you, leaving you certain he'd have put your seatbelt on for you if you hadn't insisted you could do it yourself.
On the way to the reunion, you explained to Jay why you were so against going in the first place. High school hadn't been fun for you; you had been bullied by your peers throughout your time there. It had been relentless and cruel, affecting you well into your adult life. You became a cop because you wanted to help people that couldn't help themselves the way you'd been at school and now here you were, years later and a member of one of the most sought-after units in the CPD.
When Jay parked the car, you saw your high school classmates greeting one another with cheerful smiles and friendly embraces. Letting loose a sigh, you slumped down against the passenger seat.
"Why am I here?" you asked yourself quietly. "Adam was right. I don't need to prove anything to these people."
Jay noticed the sadness in your eyes and reached over to take your hand. "Hey, look at me." You did, tilting your head in his direction, forlorn expression sending Jay's heart lurching in his chest. "We're going to go in there and we're going to show everybody that ever doubted you or made you feel like you weren't worth it that they were wrong, okay?"
You squeezed Jay's hand. "Thank you, Jay. I owe you one."
"Maybe after this you'll let me take you out for real?" he suggested.
"Maybe," you replied, trying to ignore the way your stomach was performing backflips. "Are you up for the challenge?"
"I've faced worse challenges than convincing you to fall in love with me," Jay replied smoothly.
The laughter that came from you was music to his ears. It was easy to imagine falling in love with Jay; you'd been doing it for so long already. From the way he would bring you coffee in the mornings even though it took him ten minutes out of the way on his drive to work, to him staying to keep you company in the office when everyone else had gone home, Jay was someone that you'd spent a long time learning to love in ways that you didn't feel with anybody else.
You often wondered whether things would change so drastically if you did become something more. Half of the time, you and Jay hung out during your off-hours, sometimes at Molly's nursing beers or mainlining shots until you were staggering home together. He'd hold your hand as you skipped along, singing drunkenly without a care for how you looked. Other times you'd be more subdued, respectable, tucked away in either of your apartments with a movie and some form of takeout. On nights you felt especially adventurous, you might cook instead, guiding Jay through the process and laughing as you worked.
It was so easy to fall in love with Jay Halstead that you didn't realise that you already had.
Acting on those feelings was something that you thought you could never do, not willing to risk jeopardising the friendship you already had with him nor put yourself in Voight's crosshairs for breaking his rule about internal relationships. But then you'd asked him to be your fake husband for the evening and shattered any boundary that might have stood between you and taking that leap towards something more with him.
"Alright, we should go in."
"Wait, wait, let- Let go," Jay said, leaning over to gently smack your hand away from the door. "What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't open my girl's door for her?"
My girl.
This man had no idea what he was doing to you.
Waiting in your seat as Jay got out of the car, you watched him dash around to your side. Opening the door for you, he held out his hand to help you from the car, smiling as you laughed and accepted the gesture.
"Such a good fake husband," you teased.
"Oh! Speaking of fake husband-" Jay fished in the pocket on the inside of his jacket and produced a ring. "For you, my fake wife."
"Jay," you whispered, looking at the ring.
It was beautiful; a silver band with three diamonds. One was slightly larger than the other two flanking it, sparkling like they'd been freshly polished. With trembling hands, you took the ring and slid it onto your finger.
"It's beautiful," you whispered.
"Okay, don't call me a creep, but I got your ring size from that time you left your jewellery at my place after games night," Jay said.
A game of Twister had once gotten too intense for any of you to be allowed to wear jewellery while playing and more often than not, you'd forgotten your rings at Jay's house and had him return them the next day.
"Do you always check a girl's ring size?" you asked.
"Only the ones I plan on fake marrying," he replied with a shrug.
"It's beautiful," you said. "It must've cost a fortune-"
"I can return it tomorrow," Jay replied. "I wanted you to have something nice, and-" he produced another ring, this one a solid silver band, "-I got myself one too."
You beamed at him. "I didn't even think about rings."
"Well, it's a good thing your fake husband is on top of things, huh?" Jay teased.
Glancing once more at the ring on your finger, which felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, you extended your hand and Jay took it with a smile. He tugged you close as you crossed the parking lot, an action that sent butterflies skyrocketing into your chest.
Jay held the door open for you and let you enter first before following closely behind. Years of working together had left you both unwilling to expose any blindspots when entering new territory, although this didn't feel like you were about to get shot at.
It felt worse, like you were leaping out of the frying pan and into the fire.
You both acted for a living, but this was a new level. The reunion was being held at a local bar and the moment you walked in, you were hit with the realisation that you really didn't want to be there. It was loud, with music blaring from a surround-sound system that drowned out any conversation. The floors were sticky and you felt claustrophobic, backing up slightly and bumping into Jay.
"It's no Molly's," he said quietly in your ear.
He was right. At least with Molly's, you knew what to expect. Herrmann behind the bar, getting your regular order ready before you'd even made it across the room. Friendly faces, a warm atmosphere and the knowledge that you were always welcome was just a few reasons why Molly's was your favourite place to wind down. This place wasn't anywhere close.
"Can we leave?" you asked.
"No, stay," Jay said, placing a hand on your back to prevent you from bolting. "And remember, I'm your very successful and very rich husband who runs his own law firm."
You nodded, throat dry as the two of you headed for the bar. Within minutes of you arriving, Stephanie appeared, plastering a smile on her face that didn't hide the look in her eyes when she spotted Jay standing behind you. Her gaze was hungry, raking over him like she couldn't wait to sink her claws in.
Jay had one arm around your waist to keep your back against his chest, a move which felt so natural that you didn't even question your closeness. It also put you directly between him and Stephanie, making it clear that he was here with you and had no interest in her.
"I'm so glad you could make it!" she exclaimed. "It's been so long since I've seen you! Well, other than this morning, but I was in such a rush that I didn't have a chance to stop and chat properly." She turned her attention to Jay, trailing her eyes down his body. "Who's this?"
"This is my husband," you said, overcome by the monster of jealousy that reared its head as you watched Stephanie ogle Jay like a prize to be won. "Jay, this is, uh, Stephanie."
"Please to meet you," Jay said, his arm tightening around your waist as he extended his free hand for Stephanie to shake.
"Pleasure's all mine," she replied, holding his hand for a fraction too long. "So, tell me, how does someone like you end up with Y/N here?"
It was an insult disguised as an offhanded comment, but it still stung all the same. Recoiling into Jay's embrace, his arm slipped from around your waist and there was an ache left behind for his touch. His arm then wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his side and pressing a kiss to your temple. Your entire body relaxed under his touch.
"The real question is how does someone as incredible as her end up with someone like me?" Jay replied, with a laugh that didn't quite sound genuine. To anybody else, it would, but you could tell the difference.
Stephanie raised her eyebrows. "Oh, come on, don't be modest. What do you do for a living?"
"I have my-"
"Jay's a cop," you blurted out, cutting across him before he could lie any further for your sake. It was bad enough you'd wrangled him into pretending to be your husband. Asking him to pretend he didn't do the job he loved as well was something you couldn't do.
"A cop?" Stephanie asked. "Really?"
"He's a detective," you said. "We work together in Intelligence." Jay watched you speak with surprise in his eyes, but also something that shone like pride. "That's how we met."
"She's the best detective I've ever worked with," Jay added. "And I knew from the moment I met her that I'd end up marrying her one day."
If you didn't know any better, you would find his words sweet, but he was just acting. Playing a role, the same way you did when you went undercover for a case. Jay was just remarkably good at saying everything you'd ever wanted to hear him say.
"Isn't that cute?" Stephanie said. "Is it mostly men that work in Intelligence?"
"No, there's a few women," Jay replied. "In fact, a few of my best friends are female cops." He looked around pointedly. "Who are you here with?"
Stephanie glanced over her shoulder. "I'm here with my boyfriend, Tom. I'll find him and introduce you. He's the heir to his father's fortune- I mean, business. Some big tech firm or whatever." She flashed a grin. "Be right back."
When she was gone, you sighed and stepped away from Jay. "I think that went well."
"Did you hear that?" he asked quietly, leaning closer. "Boyfriend. Not husband."
"Guess I've got that going for me," you muttered. "You're really convincing, you know?"
"Yeah, and you suck at this. Why'd you bail on our cover?" Jay replied.
"We spend our working days pretending to be people we're not. You love your job and it's something to be proud of," you said. "It's something that I am so proud of you for, so I couldn't ask you to lie about that for me. Not when I've already dragged you here and had you lie about being married to me."
Jay's eyes softened at your words and he placed a hand on your cheek. "Hey, it's an honour to be fake married to you."
Subconsciously, you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes. "You're just saying that to be polite."
"You shouldn't think so low of yourself," Jay told you. "You're incredible and it sucks that you don't see that. Give yourself more credit."
"Thank you, Jay," you whispered.
"Hey, what are friends for?" he asked, pressing a kiss to your temple.
"Yeah," you said, nodding and trying to ignore the way your chest tightened as he said friends.
"At least you're not with someone for their money, like Stephanie clearly is."
"I bet he's old," you said, letting out a little giggle. "Like, in his sixties."
Jay laughed. "I was thinking the same thing."
It felt so natural to be there with Jay, even if you were pretending to be a happily married couple. Being able to laugh with him made it a little easier to stomach that after tonight the lingering touches and forehead kisses would cease, but there would still be a solid friendship to fall back on come the morning.
"Thanks for coming with me tonight, Jay," you said, catching his wrist and keeping his hand against your cheek. "I really appreciate it."
"It's okay. Thanks for asking me and not Ruz," Jay replied.
"I love Adam and all, but he's not husband material," you said.
"And you think I am?" Jay asked.
You flashed your left hand for him to see. "Well, you did get me a pretty solid rock."
"What can I say? I know how to treat a girl." Jay smiled. "Speaking of, how about you let me take you out for real after this?"
You blanched. "What?"
"Yeah," Jay said. "Come on, how about Saturday? I can take you out for dinner and show you that I can be boyfriend material too."
For a moment, the world seemed to grind to a halt on its axis. Unsure whether you were hearing him correctly, you backtracked the conversation in your mind to convince yourself that it was real. Jay was asking you to go out with him, on a real date, with real intentions, and not just as some cover because you were too embarrassed to show up to this reunion alone.
"I'd- I'd really like that," you said. "But what about-"
"We can figure out the logistics later," Jay said. "Just say yes, okay?"
"Yes," you said quietly. "Yeah, Saturday it is."
"Great." Jay looked happier than you'd ever seen him look. "Hey, she's coming back over." He leaned closer. "Don't hit me for this."
"Hit you? For wha-"
You were cut off when Jay kissed you.
The feel of his lips on yours stole every coherent thought from your head, replacing them with a sensation that shattered every aspect of your existence. Nothing else mattered in that moment, because all you knew was that Jay was kissing you like a man starved. There was no gentleness that should have accompanied a first kiss; this was hungry, trying to convey without words exactly how he felt about you. You let him, because you had wanted this for so long that you never wanted the moment to end.
You didn't even care about Stephanie, or her boyfriend, or the reunion happening around you. All that mattered was the man with his hands cradling your face, his lips on yours, his name tattooed on your heart in a way that left you ruined for any other man. It was only him, and it would only ever be him.
You'd never kissed Jay before, but you knew you'd never be the same now that you had.
SUMMARY: Attending galas wasn't your idea of a fun time, but showing your face was part of being Bruce Wayne's daughter. Having Jason by your side made them a little easier to bear.
WARNINGS: None.
W/C: 2.0k
If there was one thing on this Earth that was able to render Jason Todd absolutely speechless, it was when he set his sights on you. It didn't matter what you were wearing, be it your awful ratty sweatpants on laundry day or one of his t-shirts while you made breakfast, you never failed to have him struck dumb just from seeing you.
Watching you now, descending the stairs in a ballgown that hugged every curve on your body, had his jaw going slack and his hands beginning to sweat where they were tucked into the pockets of his dress trousers.
Dick, who had been waiting beside Jason, burst out laughing at the look on his brother's face. An elderly couple passing by turned to stare in blatant disapproval and Dick grimaced. "Sorry, sorry-" He turned to Jason and clapped him on the shoulder. "Any lower and your jaw would have hit the floor."
Jason punched his arm.
You reached the bottom of the stairs, offering Dick a smile before turning your eyes to Jason. "Well, what do you think?"
Jason was lost for words, floundering to try and find something to say. Dick rolled his eyes, laughing again at the sight of Jason - cold, hard, emotionless Jason - gawking like a fish out of water at his girlfriend. His evening couldn't have gotten better if he tried his absolute hardest.
"You look great," Dick said, filling in for Jason.
"Thanks, Dick," you replied, eyeing Jason with concern. "Jay, you okay?"
"Uh, yeah, I, uh-" he stammered. "You look beautiful."
You beamed at the compliment. "Thank you."
"You'll have the old men drooling all over you," Dick said with a smile.
You grimaced. "I hope not."
"Not on my watch," Jason said, offering you his arm. "And if they do, it'll be from far, far away. C'mon, we're already running late."
"I take it back," Dick said. "It'll be Jason drooling all over you instead."
"Can you blame me?" Jason asked quietly. "You look stunning."
The dress you were wearing was gorgeous. It was a dark green colour, backless with a deep neckline, accompanied by a necklace that draped a thin silver chain down the centre of your spine. It floated around your legs with every step you took, showing flashes of the silver heels you were wearing. Your toes were painted the same shade as the dress, matching with your fingernails that Jason caught a glimpse of when you looped your arm through his elbow.
"Your tie matches," you pointed out.
Dick cleared his throat. "Yeah, you're welcome for the coordination, by the way."
"Great job," you said dryly.
Your father's galas were outrageously extravagant and he spared no expense on the evening. Champagne towers were stacked on tables and tiny, bitesize pieces of food were being floated through the room by the waiters. Tables were draped in fine white cloths with the most expensive plates and glasses that Bruce could find. It was ridiculous, seeing his wealth flaunted so brazenly, but you were used to it by now.
It took no less than ten minutes for you to be separated from Jason, with a gaggle of old ladies tugging him in one direction while a business associate of your father took you by the hand and led you onto the dance floor. Obliging him with a dance or two, you finally caught sight of Dick in the crowd and flashed him the 'help me' eyes, which had him intercepting the two of you and graciously asking to steal his sister away for a dance.
"Thank you," you breathed, following Dick from the floor to a quieter corner. "These heels aren't made for dancing." The two of you came across Tim and you snagged an entire serving platter from one of the waiters. "Thanks. Sorry. Hungry."
Standing with your tray of food, you and your brothers observed the scene before you. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy these things, but you'd much prefer to spend your evenings elsewhere. Having a wealthy father meant you were far more fortunate than others, which was why you put on your game face and threw yourself in with the upper class socialites of Gotham.
"I feel like I'm going to be sick," you groaned. "I've had too much champagne and not enough food."
Dick, who was standing beside you, stepped away. "Okay, but please do it that way." He pointed at Tim. "This suit's Armani."
"And this dress is Chanel," you replied. "I'll still throw up on it."
"Whatever," Dick said. "Don't ruin my suit."
"Can we address that you wanted her to aim at me?" Tim piped up. "Like I'm not wearing a one-of-a-kind Gucci suit?"
"Oh my God, we're all such snobs," you said with a giggle, shoving another hors d'oeuvres into your mouth. "It's so shallow of us."
"What's Jason wearing tonight?" Dick asked.
"Prada," you replied. "Doesn't he look incredible in a suit?"
"Oh! That reminds me!" Dick exclaimed, a little too loud for a civilised event. He winced as a few people turned to look at the three of you in disgust. "Sorry. Sorry!" He rounded on you and Tim, both staring at the ground trying not to be noticed. "I forgot to tell you."
"Tell us what?" you asked. "You going to tell everybody else in the room too?"
"Shut up," Dick muttered. "Anyways, I was getting a drink earlier and I heard this old lady talking to her husband. I'm not kidding when I say he must've been at least a hundred and ten and looked like he was made of wax-"
"The point?" you prompted.
"Right! She was talking about you," Dick said.
You raised your eyebrows. "Saying what?"
"Saying how she finds it disturbing that Bruce has allowed you and Jason to date despite being 'siblings'," Dick said, air-quoting the word with a grin.
"People say that all the time," you said. "It's nothing new to us."
You remembered the time your face was splashed across every newspaper in Gotham, a photo of you and Jason sharing a sweet kiss outside a nightclub alongside the headline 'SIBLINGS OR DATING?'. He'd picked you up after you'd been out with some friends and one of them had snapped the photo. Sensing a paycheck, they sent the photo to a money-hungry reporter who ran the story the following morning and watched it spread like wildfire to every news outlet in the city.
Bruce had sued the shit out of the city for that one. And your former friend. He'd won both cases.
"It's not that weird," Tim said. "I mean, if anything it makes Jason more bearable."
Dick grinned. "That's very true. The man is literally so in love with you, it's disgusting."
You rolled your eyes. "You guys are so weird. Was there a point to you telling me this?"
"Yeah, I thought it was hilarious," Dick said. "Especially after the whole debacle where people wondered whether you were actually siblings and if there was some weird, culty, House Targaryen vibe going on at Wayne Manor."
"Dick, I say this in the nicest, most I-love-you-forever way, but you're so chronically online that it's becoming concerning," you said. "I expect this from Tim."
"Hey!"
"Anyways, you're welcome for sharing that with you. I see Jason," Dick said. Your eyes flashed to where he was pointing, finally spotting your man across the room. Dick grinned. "Oh! He's talking to the hag! This is so entertaining."
"What?" you asked, peering through the crowd. "Who?"
"This old cougar lady that's been trying it on with Jason at every gala for the last few months," Dick said. "She really tries her best but he's so in love with you that it's really quite tragic for her."
"My favourite was when he wouldn't shut up about you," Tim said. "She told him her dress was Dior and he goes 'It would look better on my girlfriend'."
Your cheeks flushed.
"He's so whipped," Dick said. "But judging from the look on his face, he needs saving."
Jason's face was akin to someone who might have eaten a lemon. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were visibly stormy even from across the room. Swiping a champagne flute from a nearby waiter, you straightened your spine and grinned at Dick.
"Let me go save my man."
And you were off, floating across the room, ignoring the hands that reached for you with introductions falling from the mouths of the men attached to them, sidestepping women whose eyes raked across your figure in equal parts jealousy and admiration, twirling to avoid waiters passing by with trays of mini quiches and glasses of champagne. Dick and Tim watched in utter amazement at your gracefulness.
"Did you know she could move like that?"
"Tim, I watched her fall down the stairs on her way to the kitchen in her pyjamas while wearing a blanket as a cape. I did not know she could move like that."
"I feel like I've entered an alternate reality."
"A reality where our sister isn't Bambi? Me too."
You, while this had been going on, had reached Jason.
You slipped your hand through his elbow before he'd even seen you and felt him tense before he turned and spotted you. He always recognised your touch when you approached from behind, because you only ever looped your arm through his right elbow. It was your signal to him that you were there and his entire body relaxed under your touch.
"Hello, honey," you greeted cheerfully, sipping on your champagne. "I've been looking for you."
Jason shot you a relieved look. "I was just on my way to find you."
"I found you first," you replied, turning to the woman that had been keeping Jason talking. "Hi, Y/N Wayne."
"Trina Sanders, of Sanders Unlimited," the woman replied, holding out her hand.
You looked at it but didn't shake it. "Nice to meet you."
Jason downed the champagne in the glass he was holding and cleared his throat. "I think it's time for a dance." He placed the glass on a nearby ledge and turned to you. "Fancy a dance?"
"Let's go," you said.
Jason led you through the crowd, one arm around your waist as he shouldered through people to get to the dance floor. Once there, he spun you to face him and gathered you in his embrace. A smile bloomed on your face, the first genuine one since entering the room.
Moving to the music in a steady, slow waltz, you said, "I hate these things."
"Me too," Jason agreed. "Do you think anybody would miss us if we ditched?"
"Considering all eyes are on us right now, I would say yes," you replied. "Perhaps we can slip Dick a ten and get him to cause a distraction?"
"Good plan," Jason said. "I hate how these old men are looking at you."
"I could say the same about the women looking at you," you replied.
"I hate it," Jason grumbled. "You look gorgeous."
"You hate that I look gorgeous?" you asked.
"I hate it because you're always gorgeous to me," Jason said. "Even in my sweats and a t-shirt, you're the most gorgeous girl I've ever met."
You laughed softly. "You're such a flirt."
"Only for you."
Hours later, when the gala was in full swing, you and Jason found one another again after being separated by Bruce, who took you to meet one of his business associates. You were starving and a little drunk, having been surviving off champagne flutes and tiny appetisers that had been floating around.
"I really want a cheeseburger," you grumbled, sitting at a table staring bitterly at your heels. "Those tiny sandwiches do not hit the spot."
Jason grinned. "If my lady wants a cheeseburger, a cheeseburger she shall have." He held out his hand. "Let's make our getaway."
Headlines were made that morning. 'Bruce Wayne's heir ditches dad's gala in favour of fast food!' alongside pictures of you and Jason in the queue at the nearest McDonald's, dressed to the nines and looking happier than ever. Jason's jacket was wrapped around your body and you were tucked against his side. There was a McDonald's receipt hanging from your hand that was on the back of Jason's neck, having just pulled him in for a kiss.
When Bruce saw the picture he wasn't even mad at you for skipping out on the gala, because you were smiling like there was no place you would rather be than at Jason's side and that was all he'd ever wanted for you.
