#just now seeing this he was one of the PERPs they talk all day didnt mention that... paul mooney was too they aint going to learn... 👁️chec | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katsukikitten · 6 years ago

Note

I love your writing first of all *chef's kiss* they make my day when I see you've written a new chapter. I was interested in an angst to fluff scenario with Bakugo and his S/O where S/O hasn't been hanging out with him as much and more with Kirishima, but the reason why is because S/O has been planning to propose to Bakugo. The proposal day arrives, but no one can get in touch with him. Maybe Kirishima or S/O finds him. Or you can resolve however, I trust you completely! Much love!!!

Distant

Ask and ye shall receive!

Bakugou wakes slowly, eyes leaden with the weight of sleep as late morning sun dances across his flushed cheeks. His hand instinctively reaches out for you but when his wide palm finds cool sheets he shoots up. His ears perk as he listens for two of your tell signs that you are home. He does not hear the steady stream of water coming from the adjacent bathroom not does he smell your heavenly shampoo. He sniffs the air further and the missing notes of robust coffee causes a small tug in his stomach.

He pushes it away with a harsh growl as he reaches for his phone. Angry that you have not been staying with him at his apartment lately, leaving early in the morning. Not making his coffee or singing off tune in the shower.

Not even lightly snoring away after an exhausting night of hero work and fucking late into the early morning.

You were treating him like more of a one night stand than your boyfriend of three years. He bites his lip before unlocking his phone, or even passing his finger over the screen as he damns himself for being so soft, vulnerable.

And all for you.

The two of you have been through a lot even since day one. Meeting at a new years party at Kirishima's house. He had begged Bakugou to come and the ash blonde filled out his obligation as the ruby haired man's friend but little did he know he was playing match maker. Katsuki figured not seeing his closest if not only "friend" for almost a year was not good for the friendship. But the two of them had been busy with their first years of Pro hero work. Bakugou especially quickly climbing into the top five.

Katsuki wouldn't have gone if he knew Kirishima was going to convince him to get drunk.

Especially wouldn't have gone if he knew you were going to be there. The two of you getting off on the wrong foot from the beginning. An assignment gone sour due to you both being too headstrong.

His one and only failure as a pro hero, it haunted him. No one else cared that the perpetrator slipped through y'alls fingers the first time. The second time Bakugou went alone and bust the whole drug ring thinking that would rectify his record for himself.

But it hadn't not even after six months and there you laughed with Kirishima, leaning close, *blushing*. And oh did that last part piss him off. How dare you.

How dare you have a grand fucking time as if you didn't almost "ruin" his career. Frankly he had enough to drink to confront you. Kirishima silently panicking as he dragged an extremely perplexed you into a half bath. He had meant to yell at you, pushing you against the wall as an asshole power move.

He had meant to really tear you a new one, to tell you that you needed to listen to your senior and not go off on your own.

That your injury could've been avoided had you just fucking listened!

Instead he kisses you, fiercely. Honestly not knowing why he did. Something about your flushed cheeks, half mast eyes. Plump lips curved up in a cat smile as if *you* were the one up to no good in every interview or assignment news coverage you were in.

Maybe it was how hard you punched him after that fateful day when he called you a dumbass even with your broken ribs.

He honestly had no intention to bend you over that vanity in the half bath, glaring at you through the mirror as you took him so well.

You rasping out his name in a drunken hush, trying so hard not to let everyone know what the naughty deeds the two of you were up too causing him to pound into you harder.

Wanting the whole party to know what a beautiful little slut you were.

And all flushed just for him.

He told himself that he didn't really care about you. That he was sexually frustrated and didn't realize it with being so busy climbing the rankings. That you were an easy fuck, a one time thing he needed.

Yet at every party he found himself gravitated to you, pulling you into any secluded room he could to make you his.

And you happily let him.

Until one day you pouted in the same half bath the two of you started this little arrangement in. Blushing furiously and not from his wandering hands or tongue.

*"Bakugou will you go out with me?"*

He tells himself that he only said yes so he could fuck you more often.

If that were true then why was he so scared to even check his notifications to see if there was a text from you.

"Come on Katsuki you dumb dick. Man the fuck up." He tells himself as he unlocks his phone to see a text from you.

Kitten🐱: 'Good Morning my King Suki. I went out with Eji 🚒 this morning. We are most likely going to be out all day. I know you have a shift this afternoon at the office. I packed you a small lunch and hopefully I set the coffee to brew around when you get up ☕. Much love ❤💋🐱'

He glares at his phone before sending a one word message back to you, knowing it will irritate you to know end.

'Again?'

Is all it reads and he know you will be furious. He slams his phone down before opening the nightstand drawer to stare down at the little black box that has been haunting him.

The same box he has carried on the last three or four dates. Somehow talking himself out of asking you.

That you would never want to marry an ill tempered, pig headed man like himself.

So boyfriend was good enough for now, that's what he tells himself as he slams the drawer shut. He rises making his way to the small kitchen in his one bedroom apartment to your promised coffee.

He is sourly disappointed to see a cup already brewed. The coffee stale by an hour or two and he curses himself aloud.

"Did I really sleep in that fuck all late?" His dark eyes find the time and the clock does not lie. He only had about and hour and a half to get dressed for his afternoon meeting and paper work.

He only hoped you be home for dinner tonight. He had promised to cook you your favorite last night but he made a meal of you instead.

He cannot help the irritation that grows steadier as the day grows older.

His shower seems colder than normal although the steam fogging the mirror says other wise.

His room much too quiet for his liking despite the music he was blasting.

A song you had suggested to him with the sly remark of knowing he would just *love* it.

Even his commute to the agency was seems dull as he stepped on and off the train.

Walking up the seven flight of stairs to his office. The door sticking like normal causing him to blast it off its hinges.

And it didn't help that you left him on fucking read.

Where the fuck were your cute 😡😡😡🤬🤬🤬🤬 emojis you would spam him with until he replied to the whole text? Where the fuck was the 'Suuukkkiii?!?!?!?' that followed the string of messages that he could hear in your whiney tone clear as day in his head.

He purposefully loses himself in backlogged paper work that the Director demand he catch up on now.

He hated reports. What was the point? You knew the end result!! Why add complicated details and play by plays when all one really needed was the criminal was captured, this is the quirk they use, the information they gave, and the organization they associated with.

Not that it was 12:55am and the perp was interrupting the dirty texts you were sending him.

Reminding him of all the things you were going to do to him.

He was in the middle of reminding you of the sinfuly things he too was capable of when the perp landed hard on the steak out he and Deku were forced to share.

Recalling the night had him picked up his phone.

Two hours.

Two hours you had left him on read while spending your fourth day with Kirishima on some "errand".

He hates to admit but it had him thinking something horribly awful as of late.

Considering you haven't been joining him for these light lunches at the often like you used too.

The past few weeks you've been aloof, so much so that you'd even taken your cat back to your apartment.

And damn it he missed that furball asshole who was finally warming to him. Lying on him when he was on his phone or batting at the food headed for his mouth as the cat perched himself on the back of the couch.

He didnt like you and Mr. Grump being at your apartment when you belonged at *his*.

"Kaachan!" Izuku all but sings, he lets himself into his office, "Finished with the report?"

"Deku why dont you ever fucking knock?" Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose wondering how this day could get worse. He was tired of thinking of you.

Tired of feeling like he was constantly chasing you recently.

And tired of the read status.

Even this late as his key slides into the apartment lock two hours later than normal.

Further fueling his dark thoughts as his mind wanders back to that new years party he first saw you out of hero work. Blushing and too close to Kirishima for his liking.

Still no fucking message. Still no voice memo or even phone call to say you'll be late or that you've even noticed that he was late, by accident not out of spite, and that you were missing his cooking.

Jealousy plagues him as he flicks on the lights in his apartment. He grips onto his phone tight enough that it groans from the pressure before furious fingers fly across the screen.

Your phone pings out on the coffee table in Kirishima's apartment.

"No I think this is a bad idea. Katsuki won't like it." You say before picking up your phone, "I'd have to do it differently."

Blood pounds in your ears drowning out Kirishima's retort.

SukiDaddy💣💥: "Made it home. Don't come over for the next week I'm too busy to give you time. Don't forget about our date this Sunday like you forgot about our dinner."

You bite your lip angrily as you slam your phone down next to a black box carrying a black band.

The little box weighs heavy on your mind.

The week passes slowly but it does. Its Saturday. You've packed your bag, gotten Mr Grumpy's things together all waiting at your house but you needed one final thing.

"Kiri I'm so fucking nervous." You jump from the nerves as you grab onto him. Blush dusting your cheeks as he cannot help but smile at you.

A scene to play out at the wrong time as Katsuki stops cold in his tracks. He was on his way to the flower shop to grab sunflowers, your favorite.

But no longer were those in his head. No only the image of you blushing towards Kirishima while he beams back at you. He takes a step forward. Thinking of confronting you and his supposed best friend.

He changes his mind last second, he watches you pull out your phone fingers flying across the screen.

Kitten 🐱: "Five right?"

He reads the message and crushes his phone in his hands. Hoping to never see your nickname pop across his screen again.

×××××××××

"Baby! I'm here early. I brought Mr. Grump!" You sing song as you waltz into Suki's dim apartment. When he doesn't answer you figure he got called into the office for a few. You turn on the lights, humming your favorite song as you let out your cat. He stretches before trotting into the bedroom to laze on Katsuki's half of the bed.

Three o clock is what your phone reads as you prepare some last minute stuff. You aren't sure where Bakugou is taking you but you know you're ready. You set your body con black dress that you wore to the first new years party onto the plush comforter. Cranking the hot water all the way up in the shower before taking your time to get ready. Blow drying your hair, braiding part of it. Applying lipstick that matches his eyes and lining your eyes with dark liquid liner.

The final touch of slipping into your dress has you smiling ear to ear in the long mirror. Your heels give you an extra few inches in height putting you close to Bakugou's eye level.

"I'm ready grump butt and just in time too." You say as you pet caramel fur glancing at the clock. 4:45pm. You set yourself down on the couch and wait patiently.

Time seems to tick by slowly.

5:00pm finally rolls around and your heart gushes when you hear a jangle of keys and the thud of boots on hardwood floor in the hallway. But the footsteps seem to bypass the door moving on quickly down the hall.

You frown, Katsuki left your message on read and never really confirmed 5 o clock. Nor did he tell you he was called in or anything of the like.

He could be running behind.

But he has never forgotten to text you that he would be.

5:15 turns into 530 then 545 accompanying several text messages and missed phone calls that go straight to voicemail. At first rage slithered through your veins as you tried to figure out where your boyfriend could be. But as 630 rears its ugly head on the clock your feelings begin to change.

Now worry starts to sink into your muscles, causing a severe ache to form in your chest as your mind began to play out scenarios in your head.

Dangerous ones at that.

Finally you break down and kick off your heels, phone in hand calling Kirishima.

"Have you heard from Bakugou?!?!" You scream into the receiver in panic.

"Ah no I haven't. Is everything okay? I haven't spoken to him in about aaaa....a week I think."

"He's an hour and a half late you know he's very punctual." You rush as you shove impatient feet into black converse. Grabbing your keys and jacket. The ring forgotten in the bottom of your pocket as you rush out the door.

"Alright. I'll call the agency and Izuku. You look in his usual spots."

"Eji what if..." Tears burn your eyes as you jump over the railing of the stairs landing hard on the bottom floor.

"Y/N this is Bakugou we're talking about." He says softly, "I'll send Izuku and others out if they don't know where he is okay. He's okay."

"He better be." You growl, anything to keep yourself from crying.

630 quickly turns into 7, 8, 930 and you're in a complete panic.

No one has heard or seen Bakugou all day. You stop at the mouth of an alley way as the large clock in the city rings out the time. You dry heave as a sob wretches your body, panic full on as thoughts bring you to dark places.

Him tied in a basement, his quirk being pulled from his body or his body contorting into a grotesque shape as more quirks are added until he becomes a shell of himself.

Or dead.

Your eyes find the full moon winking behind whips of clouds and then it hits you.

There is one place you haven't checked. A place you took him months ago, dragged him really when you saw an article about a super moon online.

You break out into a sprint, pushing through the crowd to catch a train. A train that moved too slowly at 80mph arriving an hour later. You push the doors open jumping onto the platform running full speed again.

Shoes echoing in sparsely lit streets as you smell the cleaner air and little to no light pollution to better see the moon.

A spur of a moment trip taken in leggings and basket ball shorts.

The moon was huge, so much so you felt as if you could reach out and touch it. You turned your head to gauge his reaction and when you caught him staring at you, as if *you* were the reason the two of you were here.

Not the freaking celestial body floating in the sky by mere fucking chance of placement.

That was the moment you knew you wanted to ask Bakugou to be your husband.

The cliffs edge could not come fast enough, the street could not move under your feet fast enough as you propel yourself through the biting night air of fall.

You begin to see a silhouette of a man, shrouded in shadow by the large moon. The muscular looking body seeming to throw something. You sob pushing yourself on. Talking your self out of the possibility that that might not be him.

But when you see a spark fly from deadly hands, illuminating his face for a fraction of a second you know.

You'd spot those blood eyes and ashen hair anywhere.

"BAKUGOU!" You scream anger catching up to you as you skid to a stop a few feet in front of him. His hands now dangling over the railing.

"Where the fuck were you?!" Voice raw as emotions fist fight in the pit of your stomach.

"Where the fuck was I? Where the fuck was *I*?!" Bakugou begins to heat up but makes no motion to move hands still dangling, voice dipping down dark, "I know where *you* were and have been for the past month."

"What?! I'm not the one who's gone fucking missing." You shout stepping closer, "You're not the one who fucking got stood up!"

"I'm not?! Really?!" He shouts, turning his face to you, his eyes are narrowed to slits, "I'm pretty sure I HAVE been the one being stood up for the last fucking month. Left behind after a good fuck so you could hang out with Kirishima!"

You take a step back as his voice gets dark once more

"Do you call him King too *kitten*?" He growls and it sounds animalistic.

It also cuts deep as tears well in your eyes, nausea ripping up your throat before you huff out puffs of heated air.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" The little box in your pocket suddenly popping to the forefront of your mind. You rummage clumsily by way of anger through the jacket gripping onto it had enough that the points bite into your palm.

"I was asking him for help!"

"For what?!" He barks, "What would you be asking him for help for that you couldn't fucking ask me?

Silence settles over the air before you produce the box, slamming it into his bicep, hot tears falling down your tender cheeks.

This was not how you wanted to do this.

These were not the feelings you imagined either party to feel when you asked him.

Not jealousy that is swirling thickly in the air as Bakugou's eyes widen staring at the box

"Wha...what is this?"

"What is it? It's a fucking box holding something that I got Kirishima's fucking help with!" You shout, box still pressed hard into his skin, hard enough it leaves an indent. He laughs a bitter laugh as explosions dance over exposed skin. He holds up one of his dangling hands, a diamond ring that he twirls upright for you to see better.

A nervous laugh bubbles up your throat before echoing around the two of you. You pull the box back to you with red cheeks.

"You're fucking kidding. This WOULD how this played out for us?" You laugh again, he pulls his hands to him slipping on the ring before you slip on his.

"You mean dysfunctional as fuck?" He says coolly, eyes falling onto the ring. He loves it, it matches him to a t. Not flashy, simple, a black band that shines in low light but would not catch the eye.

He sighs, looking at you painted in moon light reminding him of the exact moment he wanted to marry you as your eyes rove over the ring happily.

He grabs onto your waist pushing your back against the railing trapping you between a death drop and his deadly, hungry, gaze.

"Were you that impatient to be asked kitten?" He smirks as you blush. Lips easily finding that tender spot on your neck. You attempt to swallow desire.

"Did...did you tell Eji you were going to propose?"

He stills agaisnt your throat before biting down hard enough to produce a moan from your plump lips.

"Don't say another man's name while my hands are on you." He squeezes your hip harshly as he speaks husky in your ear, "Got it kitten?"

"Ah...Yes king." You rasp back before he grips onto your chin, leveling your face with his

"If I told him do you really think he would have let you get a ring and let you beat me to the punch?"

You laugh before shyly saying yes, he probably would.

The moon paints you in the best light as it always does, it brings out that twinkle in your eyes. The curve of your lips and hips. Bakugou leans in and kisses you slowly, savoring one of the first moment that would lead to the rest of your lives.

Knowing he will never doubt your distance again.

#bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha katsuki #bnha kacchan #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha ask #bnha imagine #ask kitten

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letsperaltiago · 6 years ago

Text

We’ll sweep out the ashes in the morning |CHAPTER 2|

If you're new here: welcome! And if you're returning for second chapter: bless you :')

Here's to some Peraltiago banter and pining !!

Read it on AO3 or simply enjoy it here! I appreciate comments more than you know <3

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CHAPTER 2: I say we don't know what comes 'cause that's on the way

“I’m home,” Jake called out as per routine as soon as he set a foot inside the walls of his home as the clock stroke 8 PM. The winter darkness had swallowed New York whole multiple hours ago, and the dwelling feeling of this specific day being that longest in a while was stuck in Jake’s tired, cold bones. Yes, today had felt torturously long, but it wasn’t because of the dark season (a national depression and whatnot) or the fact that he’d been out the door for 12 hours by now. No, all day long it’d felt like his phone and hands were constantly burning in what was clearly a move with the intention of provoking him. His body wanted to text Amy so bad; the faster he did that, the sooner he’d (hopefully) get to see her again. Yet he managed to refrain from doing so, figuring that Amy Santiago wouldn’t give anyone or anything but her job the time of day during official work hours.

Next thing he knew and before his thoughts could carry him elsewhere, the sound of a few light steps approached from the living room. Meanwhile he shrugged off his coat to abandon it on its designated hanger; right next to hers and above the already kicked off shoes.

“Hey,” he heard a warm voice welcome his eyes to switch in the direction of its owner. Here they met a pair of beautiful, welcoming brown irises. Not Amy’s warm brown irises though, he caught himself thinking… This was so wrong.

Immediately upon realising the betrayal his mind had just presented to him, Jake Peralta felt his heart skip a beat - the guilty kind - along with his gut dropping. It was indeed very wrong (even a rule he’d say) to compare ones current girlfriend, who was currently leaning against the doorframe connecting the living room to the entree, to an old friend slash colleague. Especially when you’d only talked to said old colleague for 3 minutes the very same morning. Her leaning hip elegantly as ever nudged the rest of her figure out of her resting position with his direction as target. “How was your day? It’s kinda late and I was getting worried about you.” Slender hands slid onto his waist as if they were making their way back home, reminding Jake of the fact that there was indeed nothing to worry about. Not when the incredibly stunning and smart Sophia Perez was gripping onto his knitted sweater in order to keep him in place for a welcoming kiss to his purple, frozen lips.

“Sorry,” barely made it out against her lips. Pulling away was his next move. “I had a perp that didn’t exactly feel like confessing, so I had to stay in order to get him to talk. He was not a fan.”

“Always the hero, huh?” Sophia smiled cheekily before turning back around prior to walking back to whatever she’d been doing before he walked in. “I had to bring home an important case that’s due tomorrow, so I’m working on that and already ate… But I made sure to keep a portion of dinner for you. It’s ready to be put in the microwave.” Then she disappeared back into the living room.

“Thank you,” was all there was left for him to call out after her, before making his way to their kitchen. ‘Their kitchen’ was still such a weird concept to Jake; sure they’d been together for 4 years now and had lived together for almost two, but sharing his home with another person still seemed surreal to him. This was of course nothing personal against Sophia, but it’d taken Jake a while to get comfortable enough with the idea of sharing a home with a romantic partner - hence why it’d taken Sophia two years to convince him of the fact that his apartment was a hazardous climate and that sharing the bills in two would ease their respective economies. All that aside, they now shared a quite nice apartment not too far from the 99th precinct and once again there was actual food on the table instead of his usual ‘chocolate milk with whatever cereal was in his cupboard that day’-combo. Not that he expected Sophia to cook or do anything for him… It was more a case of Sophia not really letting him, because she was afraid of him messing up, which to Jake himself seemed to be a fair judgement of character. What a chaos it would’ve been if he’d ended up with someone who couldn’t cook.

Whilst waiting for his food to be heated by the microwave as it quietly purred in the background, Jake suddenly realised he’d actually managed to forget about the burning phone in his pocket. For approximately three minutes. Nice. Without any further hesitation he grabbed the device from the right front pocket of his jeans and swiped it open before immediately clicking the green ‘contacts’ button; dear God, he hoped he still had her number. If not, he’d probably kill- Oh wait, there it was. Jake instantly felt his heart settle again. Yet just as quickly as it had settled, his veins started pumping and of course his heart followed behind, racing again just as his shaky thumb clicked her name then ‘send message’.

Elsewhere, still in her old apartment, Amy Santiago heard her phone give off a rumbling sound that was too loud to ignore. A sigh escaped her otherwise relaxed body in frustration caused by the fact that she’d forgotten to take her phone off vibrate. Trying to fight the global phone-addiction, she liked her evenings undisturbed and preferably without unnecessary use of any gadgets. Though she had to admit that this interruption was no one else but her own fault; and Jake Peralta’s, she mentally added shortly after having put down her book and pushed herself off the couch to check on whoever was trying to reach her after 8 PM. A small, some would say guilty even, grin let its presence be known at the sight before her. Of course it was him; who else?

Jake Peralta: Didnt have ur email saved in my contacts. Sorry:(

Creative, funny enough for her to breath out a chuckle. Even though it was just a few words, Amy had to admit that she was pleasantly surprised by how unquestionably their dynamic fell back into place; something she’d lacked ever since her transfer.

Amy Santiago: I’ll let it slide this one time.

Waiting, staring at the three taunting dots, holding her breath.

Jake Peralta: cool cool cool. so i was thinkin saturday. shaw’s. 8 pm. cool?

Jake’s lack of upper case letters was a mess, which could only cause Amy to feel physically uncomfortable. She was just about to allow herself to comment on it; had he not gone to school? Though she refrained and thus it was quickly replaced by more important matters such as verifying her neatly structured calendar. It would be a lie though, if she claimed to not have made a mental note; Jake really needed to step up his texting game and formal requirements. Simply the thought of his supposed, messy work mails caused yet another shudder, whilst her fingers directed the conversation in a completely different direction.

Amy Santiago: Just checked my calendar and we’re in the clear. Saturday at 8 it is. Hope you’ve gotten better at pool.

In his comfortable spot on his and Sophia’s couch as yet another episode of Queer Eye introduced itself, Jake tried to act if he wasn’t actually afraid of not getting a reply; as if he didn’t fear the fact that Amy had agreed to meet up just to be polite and get rid of him that very same morning. He tried to act as if that would be okay ‘cause it’s not like they meant more to each other than the average old friend slash colleague. People came and went; Jake knew that better than anyone. Though that didn’t mean that he was actually good at playing it off as okay - especially when ‘people’ could potentially be Amy Santiago. Mercifully, a buzz coming from the arm rest beside him drew his attention away from the warm dinner before him and spiralling thoughts. There was no questioning the fact that he did indeed reach for the buzzing device way too fast, but all that fell aside when the lock screen’s preview of the text caused his heart to swell with joy.

Jake Peralta: deal. and dont worry. i’ve been practicing. ur ass will be whooped by 9

A feeling of a potential catastrophe came rushing through his entire body as soon as his finger had pressed the ‘send’ button. Perhaps your third text in five years to an old friend shouldn’t include her ass; especially when you own ass was far from single and definitely had felt… emotions towards said old friend at some point in time. Fumbling fingers quickly typed out a desperate, probably pointless, redeem before yet again hitting ‘send’.

Jake Peralta: sorry!! that was really inappropriate!

“Fuck,” he furiously locked his phone, mad at himself, at the exact same time as the back of his head hit the back of his couch in defeat. Well, if she had no reason to back out before, she definitely had now. Billions of minutes went by (or so it felt) before another buzz drew the heavy head off the back of the couch in a quick snap. In a spur of moment it all very much felt like the pivotal moment of his entire life.

Amy Santiago: Title of your sex tape?

Oxygen once again poured right into his lungs, allowing his chest to open up and his breath to unhinge from the brief, horrid intermission. The widest smile in forever (compared to what, he didn’t exactly know) formed on his tired yet now very content face. Their relationship really hadn’t changed and apparently the student had become the teacher.

Though ‘Saturday at 8 PM’ had seemed lightyears away on that Wednesday, for both Jake and Amy, the weekend and day finally emerged. Unbeknownst to the opposite party, one was more nervous and excited than the other. They’d sent each other a few texts during those few days; small jokes, remarks and other whatnots without importance. Little did they know that every single notification made the other’s heart jump to their throats for just a nanosecond - every damn time.

Amy Santiago: I’m at Shaw’s. Got us two seats in the right corner booth. Where are you?

Jake Peralta: its only 7.48!.. whatever. shouldve known i never had a fighting chance. see ya in 10

Amy chuckled to herself after leaving her phone face down on the oh so familiar, wooden table. Seemingly out of nowhere, the strong familiarity of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks: Sitting in a booth at Shaw’s, the smoke from multiple lit cigarettes mixed with the smell of alcohol, waiting for an iconically late Jake, sipping on a cheap beer… If she hadn’t known any better, Amy could’ve sworn that she was back in 2014. There was no way she’d ever say it out loud, because that would mean actually acknowledging it, but she sometimes wished she actually was back in 2014. This would imply still working at the Nine-Nine and more importantly the fact that she’d get a second chance at choosing a different path for herself. A path that didn’t bring her away from what she’d forever consider her favourite work place and best friends; more precisely a path that didn’t bring her so far away from the possibility of getting closer to a certain idiot, sweet manchild. Sometimes she even caught herself redhanded thinking, daydreaming about what they could’ve possibly resulted in if she’d just stayed. If only she’d just stuck around long enough for her to realise that Teddy wasn’t a match and Jake possibly was… If not perfect then maybe at least better.

She must’ve been staring at the tip of her beer bottle for quite some time seeing that as soon as she allowed her eyes to leave it, she gazed right at a smiling Jake Peralta. Almost like he’d walked right out of her guilty daydream.

“7.59,” he briefly threw a glance at his phone, before putting it down on the table. “Nailed it.”

There was that stupid, racing heartbeat again, Amy thought to herself in the midst of trying to play it off with a welcoming smile and what she hoped was a smooth answer. “I’m impressed. Just for that? First drink is on me.” She pushed a second beer, unopened, in his direction. Prepared as always.

“First drink? Damn, Santiago,” he slid himself into the narrow booth and seated himself next to her. “Are you planning on getting me drunk?”

“Shut up.” Honestly? Yes. But she couldn’t admit to that so she settled for a classic eye roll. That at least always seemed to get her out of these kinds of situations, where she hopelessly needed to run from her secret wishes.

“Here’s to reunions and old friendships,” Jake raised his beer into the air, implicitly asking Amy to make this their little moment.

“I’ll drink to that,” Amy complied, clinking her bottle against his before taking a slurp.

Moving forward, flow of the conversation was smooth and seemed infinite. As a surprise to no one, they had a lot to catch up on and there was no sparing of details or sidetracks. The rabbit hole that was their five years apart was wide agape, and with alcohol added to the mix, there was no stopping them. Their phones never left their screen down positions on the table before them, and their eyes never left the other’s. This was continuously the case until they were both three drinks in and Jake’s phone suddenly pinged.

“Sorry. Just a sec,” the beer in his hand was replaced by his phone. “Must be Sophia asking where I am.”

Sophia. Amy mentally repeated the name, analysing it, trying to put it into a fitting context but alas failed. It must’ve shown on her face. She was never good at hiding her true emotions - especially confusion, where her frowning brows would always act as snitches.

“Oh, wait…” an almost regretful, nervous even, expression presented itself on Jake’s face. “You don’t know Sophia, right?” Why did he have a culpable feeling of not wanting her to either? Things were going so well. It might not have been morally right if so, but Jake couldn’t help but consider that an evening without mentioning Sophia would’ve been easier… He knew things with Amy could never head in certain directions, but he also knew that there would’ve been nothing illegal about forgetting about certain things for just a couple of hours, right? Temporarily allowing himself to forget that Amy had left, eliminating alternative fates for their relationship, thus leading him onto a path right into Sophia’s arms. Alas, it too late. There was no way around it, and Jake had to act like he didn’t absolutely loath the cards that were now clearly on the table. “I met Sophia about a year after you transferred to Major Crimes. She’s…” Jake interrupted himself by taking a finishing gulp of his now empty beer. “She’s great. We live together in an apartment near the Nine-Nine and we’re enga- she’s uh-… my fiancée.”

If he didn’t know any better, Jake could’ve sworn that his old friend’s otherwise golden brown eyes were suddenly eclipsed b a darker shade that he couldn’t quite recognise. All he knew was that it could compare to the way sinister thunderclouds would overtake a clear spring day.

“Oh, that’s…” He saw her struggle to form words, her dark eyes returning to the old habit of centralising on inanimate objects rather than people, whenever she needed a second to form her upcoming sentence. “That’s… amazing!” her eyes were redirected back to his, paired with a weirdly contrasting smile. “I’m so happy for you, Jake. You deserve that.”

If it wasn’t because he consciously forced himself to not overanalyse every single thing she said or did that evening, Jake would’ve been worried by this immediate switch of mood. Yet he let it be, acting as if everything was as it should be. “Thank you.” That was a start, Jake thought. “Yeah, I’m… very happy.” He begged to God that he sounded more convincing than he felt. Why was he feeling like this? He was far from unhappy with Sophia and there was no justifying his opposing thoughts nor his feelings.

“Good. That’s the most important, right?”

God, he hated that he loved the way she tilted her head, whenever she would ask a rhetorical question. “Of course… But uh- what about you? Got a lucky guy?” Though he was definitely tipsy by then, he was nowhere near drunk enough for this conversation. Just the fact that he felt the need to be drunk for this particular conversation was reason enough to get drunk.

“No,” she smiled. Not sadly, because Amy Santiago surely didn’t need a man. But maybe her smile was just unaccented enough to imply that she needed something. This alone gave Jake a devilish and false sense of consolation. False in the sense that it was so wrong. On the other hand he also suddenly feel the need to figure out what this something was. “It’s just me, myself and my job,” she added.

“Well,” a comforting smile countered hers. The last thing he wanted was for her to interpret his question as criticising or demeaning. On the contrary, he actually admired (and always had) her professional drive and independence. “That’s not a bad thing. I’ll have you know…” He pushed himself out of booth for the first time since he’d arrived two hours prior, earning himself a confused look frown from Amy. “… I’ll drink to you and your admirable devotion to your job. Beer?”

Amy couldn’t point out if it was caused by the change in the way the lamp’s warm light hit him now that he was standing up; or if it was caused by him taking off his hoodie before throwing it where he’d been sitting, only to reveal his iconic and flattering flannel; or if it was caused by the buzz in her head and heating cheeks that made her wish he would peel of the remaining layers of clothing. Whatever it was, Amy Santiago was frustrated, yet happy - that collision of feelings itself was extra frustrating. She needed to fight it off the deeply wrong and forbidden thoughts with something. “Shots?”

“Shots.” He concluded, checking for his wallet. “Definitely.”

When Jake came back with four tiny glasses of some clear liquid. Amy didn’t recognise that nor the taste, when she downed her first shot seconds later with Jake back by her side. They’d gulped down one each, followed by Jake explaining her what it was, but she didn’t care at this point. All she wanted was to get back on track and forget the pre-shots conversation about the future Mrs. Peralta.

#jake x amy #jake x amy fanfic #fanfiction #peraltiago #AU #b99 fanfiction #b99 #Brooklyn Nine-Nine #jake peralta #amy santiago

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bourbonboredom · 7 years ago

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A Reason To Believe Chapter 6

Being an undercover officer is a perilous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.

A Flip x OC Fic

Word Count: 4,339

Warnings: brief N$FW moment, brief mention of violence

When I'm with you

It doesn't matter where we are

Or what we're doing

I'm with you, that's all that matters

(x)

Flip was surprised when he ran his tongue over his lip and it brushed his mustache. He was trying to get a stray crumb but instead was met with the taste of pussy. Elle's pussy. Guess he missed a spot when washing his face that morning. He fought back a grunt as the tartness melted on his tongue, a reminder of his night. And the night before that. And the night before that.

After he'd spent that first night over in Elle's apartment, he was there almost every night for the next few weeks. The only time he elected to stay at his own place was when his undercover case had him up at weird hours. He'd go back to his lonely apartment, sad to sleep in an empty bed. He used to purposefully wake up before his date, prying himself from their bed and leaving before they even noticed.

He was a big guy and would prefer to have the bed to himself. But the way Elle's body curled up next to his just felt right. He'd wake up to the smell of her hair and the feeling of silky skin under his hand. If anything, it made it harder to leave in the morning. But he could control himself, he assured himself. They both had jobs to do, no sleeping in allowed.

He'd be fine at work most of the day, paperwork kept his mind busy. But little things brought his thoughts back to Elle. He'd catch a whiff of her perfume on his collar, or a stray piece of hair on his shirt, or her cum in his mustache.

He'd fought he urge to call her the first week and a half or so. He'd see her later in the day, there was no point of stopping what he was doing to call over to the hospital. It wasn't until his job kept him from seeing her for three days did he finally swallow his pride and call.

Jimmy had caught him at his desk. Flip thought everyone had gone to lunch, and used it as an excuse to 'call the hospital' to 'get more info on Kukowski's medical status'.

"You're smilin' an awful lot to be asking about a perp's condition," His partners eyebrows were raised as he clutched his coffee mug.

"It's confidential, if you'll excuse me for a minute," He put his hand over the phone so Elle couldn't hear, though the giggling in the background made him think she still could.

"You're talking to that cute nurse aren't you?" Jimmy's smile took up his whole face.

Flip furrowed his brow.

"Thank you for the update ma'am, have a nice day," He put on his authoritative voice, making Elle laugh harder on the other end.

"Alright officer, you too. I'll see you at the diner tonight," She responded before the line disconnected.

He hung up the phone and stood up to get more coffee from the break room.

"Get all the information you needed detective Zimmerman?" His partner called behind him, voice full of smug glee.

He was just met with a middle finger as Flip left the room.

——

"I wanna take you out," He mumbled against her breast.

Post-coitus, Flip had taken to resting his head on her chest. It gave her easy access to run her fingers through his hair, and let him use her breasts as pillows as he came down from his high.

"Like a date? We were just at the diner yesterday," She reminded him.

"No, like a real date. We can go to this nice Italian place on my side of town. They have candles on the tables and they dim the lights and stuff,"

"I mean if you want to. I don't think I've been on a real date in like a year," She mused, fingers scraping along his scalp in a soothing motion. He was practically purring under her touch.

“I’d say it’s just about time then,”

“When was the last time you went on a date? A real one, not picking up a girl at a bar,” She turned her head so she could look at him.

Her curls, which had been fanned across the pillow moments before, were gathered in to a braid and thrown over her shoulder. He was playing with the end of it, dragging the hair across her skin and watching her try not to act ticklish.

“I don’t know, maybe a couple of years ago?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t like the question, but why aren’t you married?”

His head rose from her chest as he propped himself up with his elbows. He looked at her, analyzing her face as he thought about how to answer.

“I am married. You’re my mistress, didn’t you know?”

“Phillip,” She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. You’re a great guy, respectful, good in bed, you got a good job, I can’t figure out how you haven’t been snatched up,”

“I’m married to my job is the short answer. Being on the force is hard. I work long hours, I can’t always be there, and I have to keep a lot of secrets,” He bit at his lip as he thought of what he wanted to say next.

There were some things he wasn’t quite ready to share with her, mainly that he was an undercover officer and not just a regular guy on the force. If they were truly keeping things casual, he wanted to keep her away from the more dangerous aspects of his job. If they kept this going and got more serious, he pledged to himself to have an honest conversation about his position, and what it could mean for their relationship.

“I had a long time girlfriend when I joined the force. Linda. We started dating right before I was accepted at the academy. She helped me through it, staying up studying with me, going to my graduation. My mom kept asking me when I was going to propose. I thought I wanted to, maybe in the next year or so. But police work kept getting harder. I’d be working long nights, had to cancel a few dates. Linda was okay with it at first, but it kept happening. I’d try to make it up to her, but I was new to the team and a lot of the grunt work would fall on me. Eventually she broke up with me, said she couldn’t take it anymore. She never knew where I was or if I was safe or whether she was going to see me that night. I understood, tried to tell her it would get better, but I knew I couldn't make her happy anymore,”

“So I kept on with work, tried dating a few other girls after that but it was the same problem. They wanted me home for dinner every night and being a detective just doesn’t allow for that. Flings have just been easier,”

He didn’t realize he’d looked away from her while speaking, vulnerability bubbling up in his chest as he spoke. He looked back at her to see she’d been watching him the whole time. Her brow was slightly furrowed and her eyes tinged with sadness.

“I’m sorry that happened,” She started. “You deserve someone who understands,”

“You have pretty well,” He offered.

“My job is just similar is all. Long shifts, late nights. It’s a pain in the ass to work around, you just gotta find the right person. I thought I had, back in Indiana. I was seeing this guy, Abe. He worked at the university nearby and never complained about my job. He was the first guy who didn’t immediately try to get me to quit and become a housewife. He seemed to get that my job was important to me, that I really love what I do,”

“But?” Flip asked. Elle sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“But once I got the opportunity to come work here in Colorado things started to change. Abe even talked about moving with me at one point, him getting a job at a state college down here. But the closer the moving date got, the more keen to stay in Indiana he was. It was just talk to him, a fantasy. He never really intended on moving, and never thought i’d actually want to go. When he realized what I really wanted, he begged me to stay with him. He gave me his grandmother’s wedding ring and asked me to marry him,”

“He didn’t really know you all that well then, huh?”

“No, I guess not,” Elle let out a dry laugh. “If I wanted to marry him, I would have by then. I think he thought it was romantic, a sweeping declaration of love. It really just cemented my decision to leave. I gave him the ring back and told him I was sorry. I took a Greyhound to here a week later,”

“I guess we’re both married to out jobs then,” Flip set his head back down on her chest.

“I do have to wear white everyday,” She noted, stifling a laugh. He chuckled at her joke along with her.

“We don’t have to worry about labels or anything right now. We’re just two busy adults having a good time with one another. No weddings or family heirlooms involved,” He assured her, his hand reaching up to play with the pendant sitting near the hollow of her throat.

“You’re the only guy I’m seeing right now,” He could feel the vibrations from her voice as she spoke. “I’m okay with this being more casual, but I thought you should know,”

“You’re the only girl I’m seeing right now,” He left out the part where even if there were others, he’d drop them in an instant to be with her. He knew he should take it slow, for both their sake, but he couldn't help but feel this was a little more emotionally invested than just having a good time together.

“Wow, we’re really bad at this,” She teased. “So, as two casual-but-currently-monogamous professionals, when is the best time for us to go on a date?,”

“Maybe Saturday night after you get off work? I can pick you up,” He knew he'd be meeting ‘the organization’ at Felix's house earlier that day. It would be his first meeting with the whole bunch, but he didn't expect it to last into the night.

“Only if we go dutch with the check,” She pointed at him.

"Of course," his palm rubbed against her bare breast catching her nipple. “Now do you think we can fit one more round in before midnight?”

She gasped under his touch, giving him a sly smirk before pulling him into round three for the night.

-------

If Flip knew he was going to spend his Saturday being forced to take a lie detector test at gunpoint, listen to his partner throw a rock through the window of a klansman's house, and then have to chase after said klansman to make sure his partner wasn't shot, he would have chosen a different night for his date with Elle.

But here he was, heart rate still trying to even itself as he drove home hours later. He would've been fine if Ron didn't throw a rock through the window of Felix's house. He would’ve talked his way out somehow. What was he even thinking? A black man instigating an attack while the house was crawling with armed white supremacists? He'd spoken to him about it at the station after he left Felix's, it didn't go great.

Ron was more focused on trying to make Flip impassioned about the cause. Trying to get him to feel the same way as he did, even though that wasn't him. He didn't let personal stuff get in the way of his work, he couldn't if he wanted to do a good job.

“Doesn’t that hatred you’ve been hearing the Klan say doesn’t that piss you off?” Ron had asked him in the dimly lit records room before they headed out for the weekend.

“Of course it does,” He’d responded. It was an easy question to answer, but it felt much more complicated under the surface.

“Then why you acting like you ain’t got skin in the game, brother?”

The Rookie’s words were frustrating. He didn’t understand what it was like for Flip growing up. His family pushing away their religion and their culture to fit in, until they were left with nothing but a name and some disregarded family heirlooms hidden away in the closet. Him never feeling like he really fit in with his Christian classmates, but also unable to relate to any Jewish people he met. He was always stuck in some middle ground, somewhere between what his parents wanted him to be and what they tried to keep from him.

Of course he had skin in the game, when the Klan talked about hating Jews, they were talking about his family. They were talking about Eliana. They were talking about him. Ron wasn’t considering how maybe it was so easy for him to slip into the roll of ‘White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, cherry pie, hot dog, white boy’ because it was all he ever knew. It’s not like he’s parading around with these racists and heading on home to Shabbat after, he knew nothing about the culture the Klan hated him for being apart of.

“Rookie, that’s my fucking business,” He gritted out, making direct eye contact with Ron. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore, especially not with his partner.

“It’s our business,” Ron responded.

Fuck that. He left him standing there in the back of the room as he lit a cigarette. It’d help calm him down.

Flip took a deep breath in an attempt to clear out all feelings from his work. He decided to focus on the night ahead. A date with Elle. A real date with Elle. He'd picked out his clothes earlier that day, his nerves getting the better of him. The black slacks and white polyester shirt were lying on his bed with a pair of dress shoes on the floor.

He slipped out of his work clothes and took a quick shower before re-dressing, his large hands buttoning the shirt with a practiced ease. He took a look in the mirror, smoothing down his damp hair into his usual center part before adjusting his cuffs.

All he could think when he looked at his reflection was of Felix pointing the gun to his head. It wasn't the first time it had happened. He'll, he'd been to war before he was on the force. And he'd been an undercover officer for the last three years, he'd had his fair share of close calls. But this was different. That gun wasn't to his head because of something completely out of his control; his heritage. Something he didn't even see as a big part of him.

What would have happened if they somehow found out who he really was? Would he have been shot over something so trivial? Was it trivial if someone wanted to kill him over it? He wasn't even a practicing Jew. But would that have mattered?

He laced up the dress shoes and shrugged on his sherpa jacket before leaving his quiet apartment to pick up his date. He tried hard to push his work out of his mind, turning up the radio to let a Chicago song take up the overworked parts of his brain.

Time passes much too quickly

When we're together laughing

I wish I could sing it to you, oh no

I wish I could sing it to you

He pulled up to Elle's right as she was walking out the front door. She beamed as she saw his car pull up. He put it in park and was about to climb out to open the door for her when she yelled over for him to stay inside.

Perplexed, he sat in the drivers seat as she got in the car and settled in the passengers side.

"You don't need to get out of the car just to get back in, I can open a dumb door by myself," She explained, giving him a peck on the cheek after.

"If you insist," He caught her face before she turned away, pulling her into a longer kiss on the lips.

She hummed with content as his lips pressed against hers, an emotion he felt himself. The world disappeared for a second, his problems evaporating when he could smell her perfume permeating the air around them.

They broke apart and it took him a moment to drift back to reality. With one hand on the wheel and one hand resting with hers in the median, he drove off toward their destination.

Giuseppe's Italian Restaurant was a tiny whole-in-the-wall joint, with decor that hadn't been updated since they opened in 1940. But they had some of the best reviews in the city.

Flip let Elle get out of the car on her own, taking a good look at her outfit for the night. Her hair was down, her dark curls contrasting against her fair skin. Her necklace rested against her clavicle as always. She was wearing a floral dress, made of a flowing material. The neckline was tight and plunged, showing a fair amount of skin, but the skirt came to mid-calf and was gathered. It wasn't something he'd ever picture her wearing but she looked fantastic.

"A dress?" He placed his hand on her lower back as they walked toward the entrance. "Weren't you just protesting by wearing pants to work?"

"I'm not at work, am I? I can clean up nice from time to time," She wore a sly smile as they were escorted to their table.

Wine was ordered with dinner, the plates of food so big that they had to move the candle to the side of the small table. Everything was going great, the two of them talking in hushed tones and laughing in not-so hushed ones. They picked off each other's plates, earning the occasional side-eye from some of the more refined diners. Elle would raise an eyebrow at them and they'd turn their attention back to their own table.

He was about to take another bite of pasta when he saw a man walk by the window who looked awfully familiar. Blonde hair, slight build, gaunt face, Felix-like. Flips blood suddenly ran cold. His eyes trained on the front window as the man walked by, trying to get a better look at him.

The man walked by, not bothering to look inside the restaurant. After a few seconds of studying his face, Flip determined it wasn't Felix. He breathed a sigh of relief, trying to yet again push the image of a gun to his head out of his mind.

"Flip?" He heard his voice called.

He turned his head back to the table to see Elle staring at him, brow furrowed. She'd rested her hand on top of his, something he hadn't even felt her do.

"You drifted for a moment there, are you feeling okay?" She asked.

“Yeah, just thought I saw someone from work, sorry about that,"

"Do you want to leave? We can eat the rest of this later if you'd like,"

"No, no, let's finish our date. I'm fine, really," He squeezed her hand, hoping to reassure her.

She gave him a look before continuing to eat. They filled the next couple of minutes with small talk, his mind still half at work as he thought about what happened at Felix's.

"Tell me more about your family," He found himself saying.

"Uh, what do you want to know?" She asked, looking at him with uncertainty.

"Why did they come to America? You said it was before the way right? Why America?"

"It's the land of opportunity. Coming from 1930s Germany, where they weren't even considered to be citizens, America was a paradise,"

"How were they not citizens?"

"Jews weren't citizens under the Nuremberg laws. Even if they'd lived in the country for generations, like my family. Before the war even started, dozens of restrictions were put on Jews to prevent them from contributing. We had to identify our businesses, we had to be in a registry, we couldn't marry outside our race-"

Flip's brain clicked. Jews were considered a race, not always just a religion. He knew this, but something in the way Elle spoke of it brought back memories of events he hadn’t really considered before. The way "Jew" was said by kids in grade school on the playground. The way it was said in a hushed tone by his mother's Bridge Club when she's host them at their house after carefully hiding all family relics. The way it was spat like venom by members of the Klan, said like it was the lowest thing a person could be.

"What were the Nuremberg laws?" He asked.

"What are they teaching out here?" She half-muttered, looking concerned. "They were laws to systematically enforce discrimination against Jews. The holocaust didn't happen overnight, the government worked for years to get Germany to see us as inferior. These laws prevented us from working and socializing outside our communities. Many fled, like my mother and father. They left in 1937, and had to give up most of their wealth in order to be allowed to emigrate. The rest of the family stayed behind, and were eventually taken to the camps,"

She grimaced as she spoke, rubbing her pendant between her fingers.

"My mother's brother was the only survivor we know of our family. He came to the US to live with us after he was liberated. I'd never met him before the war but mama says he wasn't the same when he came to live with us. He rarely talked about his time in the camps, and held a lot of survivors guilt. He watched everyone around him die, I can't imagine what he had to do to survive,"

She had looked down while talking, and looked back up at Flip when she finished, seeming startled.

"Sorry, this is really heavy conversation for a date,"

"No, I was the one who asked. I guess there are a lot of things they don't teach about the holocaust in school,"

"It's a shonda, how can people be expected to learn from it if they don't even know about it?" She slapped her hand on the table, drawing another look from a nearby table.

"They teach enough for it to never happen again," He said

"I hope you're right," She sounded unconvinced. "But either way, my family came here with next to nothing. At least they got here, a lot of people who tried to come to America as refugees were turned away at the border. They had to go back to Europe, where many died during the war. My parents were fortunate to have friends here to help get them on their feet,"

"I don't really know where my family came from. My grandparents on my fathers side came from Russia, but my mother never talked about her family. She said they'd passed away when I was a baby. We didn't really talk much in my family if you can't tell," He tried to make light of the situation.

"Maybe you could find some records at your parent's house. Or you could talk to your grandparents, if they're still alive,"

"They're not, but my parents inherited a bunch of their stuff, so I could ask," He said, thinking to himself about how that might go. They should be more open to talking about family stuff. He was an adult for fucks sake.

He considered how different his life was from Elle's. An assimilated military family in middle America versus an immigrant family from the biggest melting pot city in the world. Vastly different lives that somehow became connected. He caresses her hand with his thumb as he took it all in. The two of them sitting in this tiny restaurant in the candle light, talking about their lives openly.

"I like you, Eliana, a lot," He confessed, unable to find the words to fully express his feelings.

"I like you too, Phillip,” She stopped the movement of his thumb so she could hold his hand. "And this date is nice, but I can think of some place I'd rather be,"

"Oh?"

She leaned across the table, lowering her voice for his ears only.

"In my bed, with you on top of me, fucking me into the mattress until dawn,"

He was grateful his hair covered his ears because they for sure just turned red. He felt his cock stir in his pants, his hips shifting to try to adjust.

"Were in public, you know that right?" He smirked, lacing his fingers with hers.

"I can't help it if I want you in me 24/7," She pouted, letting her big brown eyes work him over.

"Is that so?" He leaned forward, letting his lips press against her ear as he spoke.

"If you want my fat cock in you, you're gonna have to listen closely Trouble. We're going to get out of here, get in my car and drive home. You're gonna be a good girl, I can't be getting pulled over by a coworker because you can't keep your hands to yourself,"

Her breath hitched as he continued.

"When we get back to your place, I suggest you take that dress off before I tear it off you. And then you'll get what you want, do you understand me?"

"Ten-four, detective," She whispered.

A few seconds later he felt her bare foot ghost over his lap. She must have taken off her heel while he was talking, and was now rubbing him through the fabric. The little minx. He raised an eyebrow at her, holding her foot steady with his hand. He was suddenly thankful the tablecloths were long.

"You said I couldn't touch you in the car, were not quite there yet, are we?" Her eyes glinted and her mouth twisted into a devilish smile.

"Check please!" He choked out.

_______

NOTES

There aren’t a ton of notes for this chapter, its more of just dissecting Flip’s feelings and struggle with understanding his identity. Where Elle grew up very sure in her cultural/religious identity, Flip didn’t really “grow up Jewish” as he mentioned in the movie. I think he’d definitely struggle with his identity, especially when confronted with so much hate regarding it.

Here’s a basic idea of what Elle’s dress might look like (center dress)

I mentioned the Nuremberg Laws in chapter 4, but if you want to hear about the atrocities of the holocaust listen to the Mengele episodes from Last Podcast On The Left. It’s a three-part series and a little hard to stomach at times. I have a pretty strong stomach when it comes to true crime but this one got me a few times where I had to take a break (definite TW).

A shonda is yiddish for a disgrace/scandal. Its great vocab for overdramatic people such as I.

Thanks for reading!

#flip zimmerman #flip x reader #flip zimmerman x reader #masterlist #ARTBmasterlist

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