#i’ve literally never had someone walk out on me i feel very shaken
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damn i am still upset about yesterday i thought i’d be able to sleep it off
#fish rambles#i’ve literally never had someone walk out on me i feel very shaken#i would say no one told me it was gonna be like this but they did in fact#i’d just like to have someone to bitch to and get a hug from rn
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January TC Challenge
Day 1: Happy New Year! Any hopes for the new year? (TC or non TC related?)
I hope C and I will continue to keep in touch like we have done until now and that I get to see him more than once or twice this year 💀
Day 2: Do you have any nicknames/codenames that you call your TC? Do they have any they call you?
I call him C on here and he calls my normal name, which always makes me a little sad because he really likes giving people nicknames and even once said he’d think of one for me but never did, and he never once used my common nickname which many people do (even Incas Lily does).
Day 3: Describe the moment you knew they were more than just another teacher.
To be honest even on the first day we met him as the head of our programme, I suspected that he would become an important figure to me, just not to the extent that he ended up being. A week before we had our first 'talk', I was feeling particularly bad while at school and suddenly had an all-consuming urge to be hugged and held by either him or Incas Lily. I was near his office then and intentionally walked past it just to look at him. I didn't know why he suddenly carried so much emotional significance to me, but I just really wanted to talk to him – it's a little surreal that, just a week later, it happened.
Day 4: Do they decorate their classroom much? What does it look like?
He doesn’t have a classroom, but he decorates his office a little bit. Nothing too extra.
Day 5: What's the age gap? Did you ever think you would fall for someone that much older? Are you comfortable with the age gap?
14 years, which is fine, and it really feels like less. He once told me that he had always just talked to me like another adult, which was really, really nice.
Day 6: Describe the first time you saw/met them. How did you meet? What was it like? Were you automatically attracted or did it take some time?
I met him on the first day of school last year, he was new to our school and coming in as the head of our programme. He left a very good first impression with us; even though he’s not physically 'my type', I liked his energy and how reliable he seemed and the way he interacted with us.
Day 7: Do you plan on keeping contact with your TC after graduation? How do you plan on doing it? If you're graduated, have you kept in contact? How have you managed that?
I have graduated and kept in contact! We email back and forth once every two months or so now, and he is the only TC whom I actually feel good about keeping in touch with (i.e. he doesn’t make me hate myself every time I reach out, unlike with Incas Lily). He had casually alluded to us keeping in touch for a long time into the future, and I really hope he meant it.
Day 8: Is there something that tends to remind you of them? Like a sport, food, animal, etc…?
The main sports he plays always remind me of him, the niche shared interest that we have always remind me of him, and things to do with education also do because we’ve talked about it a lot.
Day 9: Do you have a memory you are particularly fond of with your TC? Any cute stories?
I have soooo many good memories with him I literally can’t choose. The three-hour talk we had the last time I saw him was easily one of the best. A more random cute interaction was when we walked up three flights of stairs together after one of our meetings, and we were just casually talking about food on our way, laughing and all; I loved walking together with him and loved the little conversation.
Day 10: Have you ever touched your TC? Like a hug or a brush of the hand?
Yesss we’ve never accidentally touched but we have shaken hands three times and hugged twice.
Day 11: How often do you talk to them? Do you talk to them outside of school?
Almost every school day from the middle of March to when we graduated, and now we email every one or two months. I’ve never seen him outside of school (except during our grad dinner ofc) but I guess our emails now are technically talking outside of school?
Day 12: Have you ever had any previous TC's? What were they like?
As this blog has documented, I have had many other TCs, but C is one of the only who had never taught me, and we got to have the closest relationship.
Day 13: If it were to happen, how do you imagine the perfect kiss going down with your TC? If by chance you have kissed your TC, how did it happen?
I don’t have strong romantic feelings for him and I adore his wife, so I probably wouldn’t want to kiss him. If it did happen, though, I would imagine it to have been at the end of one of our long talks. We’re both stood up after having casual and heartfelt conversations for an hour, and I’m awkwardly trying to thank him like usual, expressing how much everything he has done means to me. Maybe we’d fall into a short silence, and one of us would lean in to the other for a kiss, his hand gently on my waist to steady me, as natural and tender as a couple kissing goodbye.
Day 14: Do you truly believe there is a chance that they're interested in you? Has anyone else pointed out that maybe you're special to your TC?
I am special to C. I know it, and he has said things to that effect. He’s definitely not interested romantically, which I’m perfectly fine with.
Day 15: Have you ever gotten them a gift? If so, what was it?
I've gotten C so many gifts, mostly small snacks (and mostly chocolate) because he said he really likes food. At the end of the school year, I also gave him some things related to the niche interest that the two of us share, and he seemed really happy.
Day 16: If you're in their class, what are your grades like?
He doesn’t teach us, which is probably for the best since I’m pretty bad at it.
Day 17: If you had to pick one feature about them, physical or personality, what would be your favorite?
There is genuinely so much to love about C. The thing that first made him stand out to me was how much interest he showed all of us – he wanted to listen to our feedback, he wanted to know more about our lives, he wanted to share in our achievements and give us support where we needed it. I’m always drawn to teachers who seem like they really care.
Day 18: Do you know of anything they do outside of work? What do they enjoy doing in their free time?
He plays sports, walks his dog, listens to podcasts, spends time with friends, and I think he mentioned he occasionally games. Like, a person with a well-balanced life with hobbies and is happy and healthy??
Day 19: What goes on for you when you see them? How does your body react?
I didn’t tend to be nervous when I saw him (which was a good thing), it usually made me feel excited or comforted to see him. Sometimes I did struggle a little with our dynamic and my body would literally tense up when seeing him, but it didn’t happen often.
Day 20: What have you done, or what would you do, to spend more time with them? Join a club/sport they're in charge of? Sign up for an extra class they teach?
He doesn’t have the time to run clubs (and I suck too much at the sports he does anyways), but I did do stuff like sitting in on one of his workshops with a lower year group when he invited us.
Day 21: How often do you dream about them? What do the dreams usually consist of?
Maybe not as often as I would expect with TCs, but I remember dreams about him quite well. Before I left school it was usually some kind of twist on normal interactions, now I sometimes dream of being back home and seeing him again or being in the past. I dreamed that we were in a relationship two nights in a row a few weeks ago.
Day 22: What's a little detail you've noticed about them that you aren't even sure they're aware of? Do they run their hand through their hair often? Do they subconsciously bite their lip?
I don’t get to observe C as much as listening to him talk about himself, so I’m not sure about what he’s not aware of. I did find it cute that whenever he was trying to exaggerate with a number to make a point or just be funny, he often chose the same specific number.
Day 23: If they weren't a teacher, what do you think they should be?
Probably an athlete, but I think his goodness would be wasted in a professional sport environment – the same way it would for T and S, who are also both great at sport but are also both so much more than that.
Day 24: Do you think other people in your school may have feelings towards them too? Why?
On one hand I can’t imagine other students having romantic feelings towards him (even I, who have been attracted to no less than ten teachers over seven years, didn’t have much romantic feelings), but he’s just such an objectively good person. The absolute joy in his being, how reliable he is, his compassion, how he always listens and initiates conversations… It’s so hard not to love him.
Day 25: What are their classes like? Do they talk a lot? Is it mostly independent work? Are there a lot of notes?
I’ve never been in his class, and he doesn’t really teach a content-based subject.
Day 26: How would you describe their personality?
He's very extroverted, conscientious, logical, and organised. He really values building connections with people and can be a bit of a people pleaser (like me). He's really reliable and always finds solutions.
Day 27: What's the weirdest thing they've ever worn?
This is so specific- it was like a kilt, but a bad one, so it looked more like a picnic blanket draped around him, which was really funny.
Day 28: What's something you don't quite fancy about them? A quirk you find odd? A physical trait that you aren't a fan of?
This is just something that messed with my head a lot back when I was still quite unsure of our dynamic – when he greets students in the corridors, especially me, he almost never uses our names. Like, he definitely knows our names, but when other teachers usually say things like "hi [J]", he only says hello or morning, and it used to sound dismissive to me, as if he didn’t actually see me.
Day 29: How long have you had a crush on them?
Crush is probably not accurate, but I’ve had feelings™️ for almost a year now.
Day 30: Write a poem (short or long) about your TC.
I lost my ability to write poetry after T left :( I like to think that it died with him.
Day 31: Do you have anyone in your life who knows about your TC? Anyone you can talk to?
My closest friends know I was having those talks with C and that I have feelings, but probably not just how attached I am. For some reason, I think they feel a little more weird about my attachment to C than they did my crush on T and Incas Lily.
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Burn The Witch 14 - Haunt [Bucky Barnes x Reader]
A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.
Summary: It’s always difficult to keep secrets.
Series Masterlist
Well then.
Apparently this was how civilians dated.
You couldn’t exactly say you were very familiar with it. Your line of work didn’t exactly allow you to date and do normal couple stuff, let alone with a civilian. Spies were easier, you didn’t trust them and you knew they didn’t trust you.
Except for missions, you didn’t have any date nights unless they included going after targets.
That was why posing as a civilian was almost a relief. It was simpler, more fun, more peaceful-
Even happier.
“What do you mean you can’t give me a clue?” you asked, “It’s date night, you’re supposed to give me a clue. Those are the rules.”
“I don’t remember any rule like that.”
You slurped on the milkshake, dangling your legs back and forth on the high seat you were perched on.
“Well, how am I supposed to know what to wear then?”
Bucky tilted his head, eyeing your uniform with a grin on his face and you slapped at his arm playfully.
“Are you serious?”
He held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “I said nothing.”
“I refuse to believe you find this uniform hot.”
“Why?”
“Bucky, just look at this!”
“Believe it or not I’ve been looking at it for some time now.”
You rolled your eyes, “You’re so full of it.”
“Oh trust me darling, I’m completely sincere.”
You raised your brows, “How?”
He heaved a sigh and looked like he was considering whether he should tell you or not while you waited patiently.
“When we were—“ he licked his lips, “When—uh, back in the 40s, one of my buddies, he had this poster on the wall of the barrack we were staying in.”
You gawked at him, “A poster of…?”
“A pin up.”
“In this uniform?”
“Almost the same, yeah.”
You let out a clear laugh, “Oh my God, that’s why you reacted like that when you first saw me in this?”
The tips of his ears went pink before he dragged his gaze from yours and you awwed.
“Then it’s only fair if I ask you to return the favor and dress up from 40s.”
“As if you know any—“
“Clark Gable.” You cut him off and scrunched up your face, “Was that too quick?”
“A little, yeah,” he said, “Do you want to try again?”
“….Yes please.”
“As if you know anyone from those times.”
You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool, “I’m just pulling this idea out of thin air, but Clark Gable.”
“I don’t think I can pull off that mustache, Y/N.”
“I mean have you tried?” you asked, narrowing your eyes and he shook his head.
“Stop imagining me with that mustache.”
“You would look good!” you insisted, grinning mischievously and he heaved a sigh.
“Clark Gable? Seriously?”
“Bucky, I’m the one who’s dressed up like a pin up your buddies used to fantasize about, so I feel like you should give me some credit here.”
“Fair enough.”
“Why thank you,” you pointed out, “So? Where are we going?”
“You can ask as much as you want,” Bucky grinned, “It’s not going to work.”
You threw your head back, letting out a whine. “But I want to know!” you said, “Okay, is it inside or outside?”
“Outside.”
“A concert!”
“Not a concert.”
You pursed your lips, deep in thought, “…Flea market. You’re taking me to the flea market.”
He pulled his brows together, confusion written all over his face, “You think we used to go to flea markets on a date?”
“Picnic!”
“In the evening?” he asked and you pouted.
“It would be a romantic evening picnic.”
“Do you want to have a romantic evening picnic?”
You shook your head fervently, “I want whatever you have planned!”
“Nah, I’m putting romantic evening picnic on the list.”
“You have a list?” you asked and he nodded.
“Yep.”
“Can I see it?”
“No.”
You huffed out, making him laugh, “Aw, you’re adorable when you’re frustrated.”
“Bucky!” you whined again, making his smile bigger.
“Yes darling?”
“It’s not fair,” you insisted but before you could say anything else, you heard Tara’s voice.
“Hey lovebirds,” she said, “I hate to interrupt because you two make a beautiful couple, but your break is almost over and I’m going to need some help at the freezer.”
Bucky’s body tensed up beside yours but only for a second, and you pressed your lips together.
Right. Freezer probably didn’t bring up good memories.
“I can help if you want?” Bucky said slowly and you shook your head.
“Nope. Company policy, only staff can go in.” You leaned in to peck him on the lips, “What time will you pick me up?”
“Around 8:30.” He stole another kiss from you and stood up, “I’ll see you tonight.”
“See you tonight!”
“Have a nice day Tara.”
“You too Romeo,” Tara said as he left the shop and you followed her to the freezer.
“He is so whipped,” she commented, making you grin, “And so are you.”
Your jaw dropped, “Hey!” you said as you helped her with the chocolate milkshake container, “Not nice!”
“I can already picture how cute your children will be.”
You almost dropped the container at the mention but managed to catch it and pull yourself together.
“Oh I don’t think…” you trailed off, trying to ignore the pang at the pit of your stomach, “I don’t think he wants—um, I don’t think we—“
“Aw you really are cute,” Tara said, “Come on now. Are you telling me you never thought about a future with him?”
The image that flashed in front of your eyes was almost taunting you but you bit inside your cheek, then shook your head.
“My last relationship ended really badly,” you explained, “And Bucky has had a rough couple of….”
Decades.
“Years,” you said, “And everything is pretty complicated, I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Well, do you want it to be possible?”
You pushed your hair back and grabbed the nearest set of jars to put them on the shelf one by one, just so you could keep yourself busy.
“It doesn’t really matter what I want,” you heard yourself say, “It won’t make any difference in the future either.”
***
“A funfair,” Chloe looked up with a bright smile on her face as soon as you jumped up to sit on her desk. “He’s taking you to a funfair.”
“Wait, really?” you let out a laugh, “Oh that’s cute.”
“Who knew The Winter Soldier could be romantic?” she said, “I’d probably swoon if someone took me to a funfair.”
You could swear Keith appeared out of thin air behind you, “What?”
“Holy shit!” you exclaimed and pressed a hand over your chest, “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“Who’s swooning?”
“Barnes is taking Y/N to a funfair,” Chloe said, “Isn’t that romantic?”
“You find funfairs romantic?”
“Yeah!”
“Keith,” you raised your brows, “Aren’t you busy?”
“Nope, General is talking to Julian so I’m not busy at all.”
You heaved a sigh, “My meeting with him lasted like an hour, how did he let you go so fast?”
“Easy. I’m not the team leader.”
You sipped your coffee, crossing your legs and Keith grinned.
“So, did you tell her yet?”
Chloe frowned, “Did she tell me what yet?”
“Why Barnes stayed over at your place until midnight last night?”
“Y/N!” Chloe gasped, “You promised we would go lingerie shopping before you slept with him!”
“First of all, I didn’t sleep with him, and second of all, Keith nosey neighbor much?”
“It’s literally my job Y/N.”
“What happened?” Chloe asked, barely able to sit straight as Julian walked past you three to check his laptop on an empty desk near Chloe’s. You gritted your teeth, and turned to Chloe.
“Hm?”
“You have to tell us!” she said and Keith laughed.
“At least give us a base.”
“Second base?” Chloe offered and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Julian clenching his jaw.
“Nah no way,” Keith said, “The guy hasn’t been getting laid since what? 40s? Third base.”
No bases. None at all, Bucky was a gentleman and seeing that you were quite shaken up last night, he had just held you while you two watched that ridiculous action movie until you could calm down a little.
He hadn’t even asked any questions.
“Do you think he—“
“Y/N,” Julian’s voice cut through Chloe’s, “Can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?”
You pulled your brows together, “About what?”
“The mission.”
You eyed him up and down, then shrugged your shoulders and made your way to the nearest empty room, which happened to be a meeting room. He followed you inside and closed the door behind him as you turned around to look at him, already dreading this conversation.
“So?”
“So General agrees with me.”
Your head shot up, “I beg your pardon?”
“He agrees that it was quick thinking on my part when Barnes walked in on us arguing,” he said, making you grit your teeth, “Granted it wasn’t idea, but we can turn it around to work on our advantage—“
“Bullshit,” you cut him off, “Are you serious?”
“To repeat, an ex-boyfriend creates an environment of competition,” he said, making you scrunch up your nose in distaste.
“Unbelievable,” you said, “You know, just because General doesn’t see through this whole façade doesn’t mean you fool everyone else in here.”
“What façade?”
“Oh give me a break!” you let out a humorless laugh, “This whole teammate trying to be helpful bullshit. You don’t think anyone but yourself, you’ve proven you can’t be trusted and you want to take over this mission.”
“I couldn’t take over this mission if I tried,” he pointed out “I’m not Barnes’ type.”
You rolled your eyes, “Oh look at you, you got jokes now.”
“Just saying, I wouldn’t look as cute in that uniform.”
“Fuck you.”
“Y/N—“
“You’re not taking over my mission.”
“I’m not trying to take over your mission,” he explained patiently, “I’m trying to help you, is that so hard to believe?”
“I think we both know you couldn’t care less about me,” you said, “As that last mission proved.”
The amused, taunting light in his eyes was dimmed in a second as he gawked at you, brows pulled together in confusion.
“What?” he asked after a beat, “You think I don’t care about you?”
You let out a laugh, “I’m sorry, is that a trick question?” you asked, “You sure as hell didn’t care back then.”
He ran a hand over his face, “I think you and I remember that last mission quite differently,” he said, “I did what I had to do—“
“Uh huh.”
“I thought you would do the same,” he insisted, “Y/N, I was trying to get us out of there, just because I beat you to it—“
“I would never!” you snapped at him and he shook his head.
“Have you ever thought maybe that’s a problem?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Why do you think the General put me into this mission?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders.
“Are we going to pretend you’re here to do something else other than spying on me and reporting it back?”
“No, that’s not my mission,” he said, “I’m here to make sure you don’t do what you always do.”
“What, nailing the mission?”
“Running headfirst into danger,” he said, “You ran into world’s most dangerous assassin whom you’re playing the honeypot for, and any other spy would get the fuck out of there but what did you do? You taunted him. Twice.”
“Well I hate to break it to you, but I know Bucky better than you or the General—“
“You mean the Winter Soldier?”
“…Yeah,” you corrected yourself, “Yeah I know the Winter Soldier better than you two do. Better than anyone here.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, “I don’t know who told you otherwise, but not your every decision is right on missions. You keep taking unnecessary risks because you think it’s fun.”
“Maybe. But hey, at least I don’t leave people to die.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked and he closed his eyes for a moment as if it was way too difficult for him to hear and opened them again.
“I didn’t leave you to die, Y/N.”
You scoffed, “Alright,” you said, walking to the door, “We’re done here—“
“Are you sleeping with him?”
Your hand on the doorknob froze and you looked over your shoulder, “I’m sorry?”
“Are you sleeping with Barnes?”
“Who wants to know?” you asked, “You or the General?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yeah. If it’s you, I can ask why it’s any of your business.”
He shifted his weight, suddenly dragging his gaze from yours.
“I just…” he murmured, “I don’t like it.”
You paused for a moment, trying to wrap your head around the idea before you clicked your tongue.
“Well that’s a relief,” you stated, “I don’t give a fuck what you like.”
With that, you swung open the door and left the meeting room, not even looking back once.
***
In your defense, when you went to bed for a nap you didn’t think that 15 minute nap would turn into a whole two hours. You were still groggy by the time you woke up and your hair was a mess and you still had no idea what to wear and—
You were starving and way too thirsty.
You stretched out as you walked to the kitchen, still trying to pull yourself together but it was already dark outside so it was making things even worse. You flipped the switch and opened the fridge to grab the water bottle, uncapping it and taking big gulps. After you were done, you took out two slices of bread and peanut butter and jam, then quickly made a sandwich to take a bite. Leaning back, you let out a sigh and eyed the gun on the table.
You had a feeling the General would send you on another night mission soon.
You took another bite of your sandwich but your head shot up when you heard the doorbell ring and you almost dropped the water bottle but caught it mid-air.
“Shit…” you whispered and grabbed the gun to put it in the kitchen cabinet, and placed the sandwich on the plate, then made your way to the door to open it.
A fond smile pulled at Bucky’s lips as soon as he took in your disheveled appearance, “Hello there Dracula.”
“I’m so sorry,” you tried to fix your hair, “I…I was taking a nap and then I didn’t hear my alarm and—“
“Don’t worry about it darling,” he said, “You look beautiful.”
“I look like a mess,” you corrected him, scrunching up your nose and stepped aside so that he could walk in. He pulled you closer to peck you on the lips.
“Hi.”
“Hi back,” you smiled up at him and made your way to the kitchen with him following you suit.
“I’m just going to finish this and then I’ll get ready in like ten minutes, promise!”
“Not a problem,” he said as you jumped up to sit on the counter, dangling your legs, “If you want to stay in tonight—“
“No no!” you interrupted him, “I want to go to…um, wherever it is we’re going. Do you want some?” you held up the sandwich, “I could make you one too.”
Bucky stepped closer to you to take a bite of your sandwich, making you giggle.
“I mean do you want your own?”
“You’re not good with sharing?”
“Nope,” you shook your head, still smiling as he put his palms on the counter either side of your legs, caging you in.
“No?”
“Nuh uh.” You said, then leaned in to peck him on the lips again before you pulled back to take a bite out of your sandwich.
“How was your day?” you asked, and he heaved a sigh.
“Mm, uneventful.”
“Uneventful can be a nice change.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah I mean…at least your ex doesn’t show up out of nowhere,” you paused for a moment, “Or in your case, doesn’t escape from nursing home.”
He chuckled, his thumbs caressing the soft skin of your legs, making you distracted for a moment as the warmth filled you again.
“Did he visit you again?”
You tried to focus and looked up at him, “Hm?”
“Julian.”
“Oh,” you made a face and shook your head, “No. No but something tells me that wasn’t the last time I saw him.”
“Really?” he said, “I still feel like the next time he shows up you should let me know so that I can—“
“I already know what you’re going to say, and no.”
“What was I going to say?”
“Some macho showdown nonsense,” you said with a laugh, “Seriously. I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can,” he said with a sigh, “But the guy said and I quote, he would take you away from me, so forgive me if I want to have a talk with him.”
You rolled your eyes, “No one is taking anyone from anyone,” you said, “Number one, we don’t live in Stone Age. Number two, I’m quite happy with who I am dating now.”
A small smile curled his lips, “Are you?”
“I mean,” you heaved a dramatic sigh, “I would be happier if my date told me where we’re going but can’t win ‘em all.”
You pressed a kiss on his cheek and jumped down.
“Okay, I’ll be ready in a couple of minutes, knock yourself out,” you said, “There’s beer in the fridge if you want.”
“Thanks,” he said and you walked to your bedroom to open your closet, then grabbed a dress and put it on. After quickly doing your make up, you found the lipstick you were looking for and started applying it.
“Darling do you have a bottle opener?”
“Yes, it’s in the kitchen cabinet!” you called out and checked your reflection in the mirror before your mind caught up to what you had just said. Panic crashed into you, knocking the breath out of you and you dropped the lipstick to rush to the kitchen.
“Bucky wait—“ you started but as soon as you saw the open cabinet, your stomach dropped. He looked at you over his shoulder with a frown on his face, then turned around and held up your gun, making you swallow thickly.
“So,” he said, his gaze pinning you to your spot. “Anything you would like to tell me?”
Chapter 15
#bucky barnes#tfatws#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#the falcon and the winter soldier#marvel
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defenceless | jj x fem!teen!reader
a/n: i’ve been rewatching criminal minds and i can’t believe it’s been a year since i last wrote for jj. and i have no idea where this came from.
(feedback/positive comments are appreciated)
warnings: major references to blood/being stabbed. mentions of assault
word count: 2.7k
masterlist | request list | request rules
r is jj’s 19 year old adopted daughter and gets victimised after stopping an unsub from assaulting someone
i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated
“Morning, baby.”
You smiled when your Mum came up behind you and softly kissed your head.
“Morning, Mum. I made you some breakfast.”
You said, pouring coffee into the seasoned profiler’s ‘No.1 Mom’ mug that you’d gotten for her several years ago.
You’d gifted it to her on the first Mother’s Day you had with her after she adopted you. And she used it that morning and every morning since.
“God, what’d I do to deserve a daughter like you?”
JJ said proudly as she dug into her breakfast, happily munching on a piece of toast as she looked through her case file. Whatever dark, horrific crime she and her team were investigating simplified down to a few pages in that brown file.
“Busy day?” You asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, staring across at her.
“You have no idea. I’ve been up for a few hours trying to compile some notes on this case we’re working. Young, relatively low-risk, women are being raped in alleyways and there are no witnesses.”
She explained as she continued to eat whilst scribbling shorthand notes on a notepad.
“Any ideas on who you’re looking for yet?”
She hummed in answer. Swallowing her food, she replied, “Yeah, I think we have a preliminary profile that we want to release to the public later today.”
Pouring the rest of her coffee into a travel cup, she put her files in her bag and placed it on the counter you were resting against.
“You got class today?”
You were studying criminology, wanting to follow in your mother’s footsteps and become a profiler.
Nodding, you answered, “Yeah, then some of my friends and I are gonna head to the mall. And yes, I’ll message you constantly, so you know.”
You added when your mother opened her mouth to presumably ask that very question.
“Thanks, sweetie. Whoever our unsub is, he’s targeting women your age and considering he’s probably here right now, I need to know you’re safe.”
“I know, Mum. Now go, you don’t want to be late for work. Hotch only lets you be late once, you know.” You smirked.
“Yes, I know. Bye, y/n. I love you.” Your mother mirrored your expression and kissed your cheek.
“I love you too.” You replied, handing your Mum her keys and you watched her leave as the white door closed gently behind her.
***
“Maybe just call him out on it and see what he says?”
You suggested to your friend, Kerri, after she explained her boyfriend troubles to you and your other friend, Ally.
“I mean, the worst that could happen is-”
You stopped mid-sentence when you heard a muffled scream. Furrowing your brows, you walked closer to where the sound came from; an alleyway behind an old warehouse.
Remembering your mother’s earlier profile, you whispered to your friends, “Stay behind me.”
“Y/N, what is it?”
“Not sure.”
Inching around the corner, you saw two figures behind a dumpster. The smaller figure, who appeared to be a blonde female, was struggling against the male standing over her.
“Hey! Get away from her!”
Shouting, you ran up to the two and watched as the man’s head whipped around to face you before he darted off, jumping over a fence.
Approaching the woman, you saw she was half naked and had blood seeping from her nose.
“Oh god. Call 911, she’s been assaulted.” You said quickly to your friends who stood behind you, shocked at what they had just witnessed.
Hearing Kerri following your instructions, you took off the jacket you were wearing and wrapped it around the exposed girl.
“H-He tried to r-r-”
Unable to form the words, the girl started to sob at her ordeal.
“I know. It’s okay, honey. What’s your name?” You asked, speaking quietly to try to calm her as if she was a spooked animal.
“A-Annie.” She choked out as she tugged your jacket closer around her.
“Annie, you’re safe now. He can’t hurt you.”
The former began to sob harder and fell against your chest. Wrapping one arm around her, you used the other to take out your phone to call your Mum.
“Shh, it’s okay, Annie. You’re okay.” You said, soothing the distraught girl who was currently crying her heart out against you.
“Hey, y/n, what’s up?”
After quickly explaining what had just transpired, JJ told you and your friends to remain where you were since you were all witnesses and that she’d be there soon.
“You did good, babygirl.”
Morgan said, handing you a cup of coffee.
You were currently sitting at your mother’s desk at the BAU, having already given your statement to both local police and your Mum’s team at the crime scene. Emily and Spencer had driven your friends home whilst you came with your Mum to her work - she refused to leave you alone, even though you’d argued that it was still daylight and you’d be fine.
You didn’t reply, deciding to sip the hot drink, wincing when it burned your tongue.
“He’s right, y/n. Most people probably wouldn’t have heard anything.”
You glanced up at your Mum who stood above you, her hand resting on your shoulder.
“What will happen now? To the unsub, I mean. I interrupted him so he never managed to rape Annie.”
“He’ll probably try to hurt someone else.”
You turned to face Hotch as he approached you and the rest of his team.
“I just got off the phone with the hospital. They’ve discharged Annie into the care of her parents. She wanted me to tell you ‘thank you’.”
“I’m glad she’s okay. Physically anyways. So, you think he’ll get sloppy? Since he never got to...finish, he’s probably going to be antsy right? He might make a mistake?” You asked, hopeful that your Mum would catch him soon.
“More than likely. He’s definitely going to be angry, especially since we’ve just released the profile along with the sketch you helped us with, y/n.” Hotch answered, a gleam of pride in his eyes.
“Anything I could do to help,” you replied.
Standing up, you faced your Mum, “I think I’m going to go home. I’m kind of exhausted.”
“I’ll drive you h-”
“It’s okay,” you interrupted your Mum, “you’re busy here and you’ve got a lot of work to do. Besides, it’s only mid-afternoon so I’ll be fine. I-I just need some air.” You said, your voice faltering when you felt tears forming.
Clearing your throat, you held back your emotions and kissed your Mum on her cheek, “I’ll message you when I get home.”
“Okay, baby. I’m proud of you.”
The tall blonde hugged you close to her which you returned with as much ferocity, her hands stroking your hair as she cradled your head against her.
Bidding your goodbyes to the rest of the team, you left the federal building.
“JJ, you okay?” Morgan asked.
JJ had heard the emotion in your voice and though she was proud to have seen you comforting the most recent victim, it had hurt her heart to see what came after the ambulance drove away with an injured Annie in the back.
Once you’d given your statement and described the unsub to her and her team, she’d followed you to her old vacant office from her media liason days where you’d broken down.
She had watched you hold yourself together by a thread all throughout the questioning but had known that the adrenaline high would crash soon. And you quite literally did crash. In her arms, the moment she had closed the door behind her.
She had fought back her own tears as she gathered you into her arms, soothing you as you did earlier with Annie.
She’d tried as hard as she could to keep you away from her world.
She didn’t want you to be exposed to any more darkness than you’d already experienced when you were younger, before you’d met her.
“JJ?”
The blonde blinked, breaking away from her thoughts to stare back at the rest of the team.
“She did good, JJ.” Morgan repeated as JJ simply nodded, not knowing what to say.
***
Taking out your phone, you sent a message to your group chat with Kerri and Ally, wanting to make sure they were okay.
After receiving replies from the both of them confirming that they were fine and just a bit shaken up, you placed your phone back in your pocket.
Sighing, you continued walking down the relatively empty street; the majority of people either at work or school, unaware of what had happened just a few hours earlier.
You thought about Annie and later crying in your Mum’s arms. You didn’t even know why you did. Spencer probably would have given you some fact about adrenaline crashes but you shook your head, feeling self-conscious.
There was no need for you to break down like that.
All it achieved was your Mum being worried about you which was the last thing you wanted because it meant she’d be distracted from doing her job. Catching this asshole.
Hands in your pockets, you felt the bright sun shine down on your face.
Stopping for a brief moment, you glanced up at the sky, and allowed yourself to breathe.
As you were about to carry on walking, you felt a harsh grip on your arm pull you into an abandoned parking lot.
You thrashed against the strong hold, the self-defence skills your Mum taught you kicking in.
Stomping on the large figure’s foot, you smirked at the grunt of pain that fell from his lips. Then you elbowed them in their stomach and threw your head back into theirs. Hearing more shouts of pain, you started to run before you were roughly pushed against a brick wall.
Your breaths came out in heavy pants and your eyes widened as you stared into familiar eyes.
It was the unsub.
He held himself tight against you, pulling a switchblade from his pocket and into your view. Your eyes flickered from the sharp blade to his eyes. They were filled with fury as blood dripped from his nose - from when you’d head butted him.
“Good. So you recognise me.” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d swallowed a bunch of nails.
“What do you want?” You spat out, refusing to show any indication of fear to him.
“You ruined the other girl for me. But you seem like a challenge. I like that.”
Pressing the knife against your neck, he used his free hand to undo his belt.
You barely controlled the terror that threatened to rise through your body. Instead, you tried to focus on the pressure of his weapon, waiting for a slight reprieve where you could make your move to escape.
That moment came when he unzipped his trousers.
The pressure lightened for a few seconds which was all you needed.
Grabbing his wrist, you twisted the knife away from you and kneed him in the groin. Pushing him away, you stumbled, trying to escape.
But he was quick on his feet.
He swiftly picked up the knife that had fallen to the floor and thrust it into your stomach.
You groaned, the pain unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Your hand instinctively went to your stomach as blood started to coat your clothing.
You slumped down the wall as the unsub crouched down, sneering at you, “Bitch.”
Tapping the ground behind you, you felt a piece of broken glass in your fingers. Gripping it tightly, you gathered all your strength and plunged it into his neck.
He yelled out, his hand going to the glass that was still in his flesh.
Recognising what he was about to do, you clambered to your feet and watched as he pulled the shard, of what appeared to be from a broken beer bottle, out of his skin. Blood splatted all over the wall that you had been against, just moments before.
Blood continued to seep out from your wound.
You took off your jacket - the one you had previously wrapped around Annie - and pressed it against your skin. You groaned at the white hot pain that seared through your skin.
Knowing you were only down the street from the Quantico building, you took out your phone and called your Mum as you walked, as well as you could in your condition, back to the federal building.
“You home already?”
“M-Mum, c-come outside. I-I need you.” You choked out, trying to steady your breathing.
“Y/N? Are you okay?”
You could hear her shouting to the rest of her team before she continued to talk into the phone.
You made it to the entrance of the federal building but you were too overcome with exhaustion and you felt yourself drop to the floor.
You could hear shouts from the people around you as they watched blood pool around you.
“Oh my god. Y/N!”
You heard your Mum yell as she fell to your side, pressing her hands heavily against your wound.
You barely heard as Hotch called 911, stating his name and rank and urged for an ambulance to be sent immediately.
You struggled to keep your eyes open as you looked up at your Mum.
“Come on, baby. Stay awake for me.” JJ begged, tears carelessly running down her face.
“It hurts, Mum.”
“I know, baby. I know. But you’re strong. Stay with me. How’d this happen?”
JJ knew the only way to keep you awake was to continue talking so your brain could still remain active.
“H-He’s dead. He attacked me. I-In a car park. Down there.”
You weakly raised your hand and pointed towards the direction you had come from.
“Good girl. Just stay with me. You’re going to be okay. Y/N? Y/N!”
JJ screamed when she watched your eyes flutter closed as you lost consciousness.
***
“Woah, y/n. It’s just me.”
JJ said quickly when you jumped as she came up behind you to kiss your head.
It had been a few weeks since you’d been stabbed.
You’d woken up in a hospital, hooked up to all sorts of machines monitoring your heart rate. Your eyes had fallen on your mother who, once she saw you were awake, started to cry and hug you close to her. That then made you start crying and the two of you were just a pile of tears as you clung to each other.
After the tears had stopped and the doctors had checked up on you, JJ had told you that they’d found the unsub in a parking lot a few blocks from the BAU.
A couple of days after, you’d been discharged from the hospital. Your mother had stayed by your side up until this week when you had urged her to go back to work.
That had led you to now. She’d just arrived home from work and you hated that you were still on edge after your attack, despite your Mum telling you it was normal.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, honey.” JJ said softly as she came to sit beside you on the sofa.
You both sat in silence for a few moments before you spoke, your voice coming out in a whisper.
“I’m scared, Mum.”
You felt her eyes on you as she spoke, “Scared? He’s dead, y/n. He can’t hurt you.”
“I know, I just-In that moment when I fought him, I was so defenceless. And I’m scared of what will happen the next time I can’t defend myself.”
You continued, tears welling in your eyes as you stared ahead, unable to face your mother.
“Y/N,” JJ gently turned your face so she could look into your eyes.
“Am I defenceless?”
You blinked, having not expected that question. “What? No.”
“Exactly. I’m not. But I felt like it after I was kidnapped and tortured a few years ago. It’s normal to feel like that, y/n. But it’ll pass. I can promise you that.”
“It’s like I can feel him stabbing me over and over again.” You choked out, failing to force your tears back down.
“Oh, baby.”
JJ gently pulled you to her as she wrapped her arms around your body. She cradled your head against her chest as you clung to her arms, now sobbing.
“I got you, y/n. You’re safe. I got you.” She repeated, soothing you as you continued to cry.
Still hugging you against her, she kissed your head,
“As long as you have me, you’ll never be defenceless.”
#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#jennifer jareau#jennifer jareau x reader#jj x reader#jennifer jareau imagine#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x reader#derek morgan#derek morgan x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#penelope garcia#penelope garcia x reader#david rossi#david rossi x reader#jemily#aj cook#paget brewster#cm#cm x reader#criminal minds imagine#c: jennifer jareau#c: defenceless#s: mine#c: jj x d!r
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hey queen! Girl you have done it again. Constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly. i’d say i’m surprised but i know who you are. i’ve seen it up close and personal. girl you make me so proud.
“Father figure” is so cute omg 🥺 Could Maybe write something about reader finally joining the scouts and Levi/erwin being so impressed by scared for her (if u want)
“Father Figure,” Pt 2 Levi x Erwin Headcanon
PLEASEEEE, I love you🤧❤️ I shall give out a part 2. I’m thinkinnnng Levi’s reaction to you joining scouts annnnd Erwin’s reaction to both you wanting to be a scout and dating Jean😗 we’ll see how that goes.
Warnings: Season 3 mentions aka the beast titan for Levi. that is alllllllll
PART ONE
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Levi:
It had taken weeks, even a few months before Levi had finally went through with letting you join the scouts but he never took it easy on you, he treated you the same and even when he would train with you alone, he would be more harsh.
He only did this to benefit you, he wanted you to be better and definitely better than him and it had all worked in his favor. Once the first expedition came along, you had proven yourself well above than what the scouts expected.
As Levi watched you swing, flip and spin along the lines between buildings and the way you swiftly had taken down your first Titan, he was in awe the entire time. His eyes never left you and he would admit he got a bit emotional.
The flashbacks of you as a small child, tugging on his coat that he would wear and the way you always wanted to ride his horse or hear stories, they all flooded his mind. His own child stood in front of him, grown up and turned into a mini Levi and he couldn’t help but feel proud.
It wasn’t long until you turned into exactly like Levi onto the field, always putting yourself at risk and taking the bigger Titans on by yourself with no issue. He was shocked to say the least, he wouldn’t have expected you to grow up so quickly and turn into such a great scout.
One mission in particular had Levi on the edge, when the commander had ordered for only Levi to handle the beast titan, you had all but ignored both their commands and followed behind your father in battle. Maybe it was because you were worried for your dads safety, you didn’t want him to take the beast Titan on his own. You knew he was the best of the best but even then, you still knew your fathers weakness.
At the last moment, you had swooped in and spun around in the air, using your blades to swipe through and cut the hand off that was reaching for you before lunging your blades right through his eyes, hearing Levi yelling behind you.
“What the hell are you doing?! This wasn’t your mission!” He was beyond frustrated with you but more fearful that you would get caught up because you were too confident in yourself.
You ignored your fathers yelling, following his lead and instantly breaking apart the beast Titan until Levi had sliced the nape of his neck open and saw the older man break out of the Titans skin.
“Y/N, take your ass back to where the cadets are!” Levi grabbed onto your upper arm and practically yanked you towards him, the fury in his eyes was all but filled with fear.
“Dad, we literally just took down the beast Titan and you’re screaming in my face because I helped?” You glared up at him, the stubbornness you both had was too overbearing.
While you two were busy bickering about you joining in the fight, another Titan swooped in and had almost chopped you up in their mouth but Levi had pushed you down, watching the Titan pick the beast Titans body and run off.
“You let them get away because you were too fucking worried about me!” You yelled at your father, the anger boiling in both of you was steaming hot and he couldn’t help but feel angry towards himself too, for letting him get so distracted.
Levi had let a deep breath in, rubbing his temples for a moment as he tried to think clearly. He had reached over to you, embracing you in a tight hug and rested his chin on the top of your head, luckily you were short enough for him to even do so.
“I’m sorry, I’m trying to get used to you being out here and I get... scared. Only because you remind me of... me when I first joined, always putting yourself on the line, always going out of your way to prove you’re better but I need you to be careful.” He fully admitted, shaking his head at your carelessness but he couldn’t stay mad because you learned all that from him.
“Dad, I’m not stupid. I’m being careful, you have to trust me.” You rolled your eyes at your father, you frustrated you but you couldn’t help but understood the fear he felt while you were out here with him.
“I do trust you but I also need you to listen to commands when directed, do you hear me? You aren’t in control.” He grabbed your shoulders and forced you to look up at him, making you slowly nod you head.
“Don’t let that shit happen again or else you’ll be on horse shit duty.”
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Erwin:
Erwin wasnt as strict when you joined the scouts, he was actually pretty proud to know he raised you to be a great cadet and probably a great future leader. All the nights he helped trained you was a very proud moment for him to be apart of.
He felt like he had accomplished something greater, this was a feeling better than becoming a Commander and that was raising you to be a great scout member.
He had put you under Levi’s team for many reasons, only because he wanted him to watch you closely and he had trusted Levi enough to put his child’s fate in his hands.
He had watched you flourish nicely on expeditions, you always proved yourself to be great. Your first expedition you had taken down a total of five Titans on your own and ended up saving Connie in the middle of it.
Erwin couldn’t help but openly get emotional in front of everyone, causing them to grow awkward at your fathers tears as he watched you. You had repeatedly told him to stop being so emotional about everything but he did anyways, he couldn’t help but cry only because he was so proud of who you’ve grown to be.
The long nights of staying up with you when you wouldn’t sleep, the days where he would forget about his work to take you out on walks, to explore with you and play silly games that you made up. It was all worth it to him and his heart was full of love and happiness when it came to you.
But one day he had been looking for you after a mission, he was pretty worried and wanted to talk to you with dinner about how the mission went. He unexpectedly caught you and Jean outside alone, lips smashed together.
“Y/N, Jean.” He cleared his throat awkwardly and your face instantly heated up into a dark shade of red once you both had been caught, you wished it was anyone else but your own dad, you were completely embarrassed.
You had rushed inside, following your dad to his office where you two usually sat and ate your meals. Erwin was silent, he couldn’t stay mad at you thought, it was bound to happen that his own child would grow up and find someone.
“I didn’t know you two were daring.” He spoke up, causing your face to heat up again and you had tried to look anywhere else but him
“I mean, yeah, it’s only been recent.”
“Ahh and he makes you happy, yes? That’s what I would hope for.” He stared at you, both of you making eye contact and you were shocked that he was acting so calm about everything.
“Yeah, I’m happy.”
“Good, good but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve been watching you on some missions and even had your Captain report back to me on how you do on them. I know I’ve said I didn’t want you to be apart of this life but I’m very proud of you, you’ve grown up to be amazing and intelligent. I’m proud to be your father.” Erwin told you, taking a bite out of his food to hold in the emotions he wanted to express but he had to tell himself to not be such an emotional father.
“Oh,” You were certainly caught off guard by his words and you had to think to yourself if this was a dream and ask yourself why was your father acting like this.
“Thank you, I really appreciate it, dead.” You smiled at him, both of you finishing your dinner rather quickly.
Erwin had ended the night laughing and bringing up stories of when you were a small child to both you and Jean, he mostly told you the embarrassing stories and would mention one or two that were adorable. You had shaken your head at your fathers idea of a fun time, telling embarrassing stories but Jean had been enjoying himself a little too much.
Your father stood across from you, the intense feeling of being proud but also mixed with fear when it came to you telling him about today’s mission and how you taken out a few Titans in a second all on your own. You were definitely his child but it was scary to see how fascinated you were with being a scout and how truly happy you were with your job.
Erwin had to swallow his pride and his instinct to be an over protecting father, he always feared for your life out on those missions but he also trusted you and your strength to come back alive and well, you were his child after all.
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AHH well. I hope this is as good as the first one🤧
• Main Masterlist •
• AOT Masterlist •
#levi ackerman fanfic#levi ackerman imagine#levi ackerman imagines#levi ackerman x reader#levi fanfic#levi imagines#levi aot#levi ackerman headcanons#levi Ackerman#Erwin smith#erwin smith headcanons#Erwin smith imagines#Erwin smith imagine#Erwin x reader#Erwin imagines#Erwin imagine#erwin headcanons#erwin aot#aot Erwin#aot imagines#aot headcanons#attack on titan headcanons
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Something More (the mandalorian x reader)
CHAPTER 3: TO TRUST
Rated: Explicit (not this chapter, but future chapters will be)
Warnings: descriptions of violence
Summary: “What…” he starts.
“You got hit—” you interrupt.
“…Are you wearing?” Mando finishes, and your cheeks flush, looking down at his giant shirt you never changed out of.
“I was—when you called, I was in the fresher,” you say, scooting slightly closer to him, resting on both knees. “I didn’t have time to put anything else on before you told me to hide.”
“Oh,” he sighs, and then he’s pushing himself off the floor despite literally every single warning you spurt at him, and finally, he’s up against the same wall you’re leaning against. The space is small, small enough that two people would be pushing it, and the fact that one of those people is much larger than the other and in giant beskar armor means that your forehead is almost flush against the visor when he turns his head into you. Your breath catches in your chest. It’s not lost on you that in the heat of the moment, you didn’t run. You ignored where you were, and you forged on to save him. That didn’t happen the last time you were on this planet and the fact that belonging to something—to someone—was enough to push past the fear and do it anyway sung inside you.
The baby is in your face. You startle awake to a sea of green. He babbles as you jolt up, clapping his tiny hands together in celebration. He’s all swaddled up in his own robes, but he’s so much warmer than you are, and you groan as he hops up against you, fingers beating around your arm as you bring him in closer to your chest, hoping to leech off his warmth. Slowly, painfully, you push yourself off the ground and push on your neck to make it crack, the pain shooting up behind your eyes like starfire. You don’t want to see what shape your belly’s in.
“Good morning,” you slur through sleep, as the baby giggles and pushes into you. You just stay there, half awake, slouched against the wall of the ship, when suddenly the baby is being plucked from your arms and you’re staring into beskar.
It’s not lost on you that you’re at eye level with the Mandalorian’s crotch, and while you try your hardest to not let your gaze linger there in an obvious way, your eyes stutter once or twice looking up to where the helmet is.
“You’re awake.”
“Barely.”
He kneels so that you’re almost at eye level, and he’s dangerously close to you again. You feel your cheeks flush, the rush low in your belly, deeper than your injury, deep down somewhere warm.
“I need to see you.”
“Huh?” You manage, and hope it’s not as croaky as it seems.
“Your stomach. I need to make sure you don’t need a shot or to get checked out by a professional.”
You nod as his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, going slow, giving you a chance to stop him if you want. You want to sit on your hands and just let him take it all the way off, but you try to focus your brain elsewhere. Literally anywhere else. You fail. His hands are just as large as last night.
“You’re telling me you’re not a professional?”
“I know how to take care of injuries. I mean… a nurse droid, or something.”
“Last time I checked, this was an injury,” you pressed, a smile breaking out of your face faster than you can control it. “And you hate droids.”
“The injuries I usually take care of are my own. I can gauge how bad the pain is, how deep the cut goes. I’m not inside you,” he says, and it’s so fast that you think you imagined it, “so I can’t tell how bad it is.”
You blink at him, stunned into silence. Your heart is so loud and fast you’re terrified he can hear it. In the background, the baby is staring at you with his giant, magic eyes, and you know he can hear it, the little womp rat, the way he’s smiling at you. “Not bad.”
The Mandalorian taps your stomach, not enough to really hurt you, but enough to startle the bruise. You wince. “Bad,” he says, simply, point proven.
You let him check you out and argue about how it wasn’t that bruised, and it ached but you could move, and finally, very begrudgingly, he let you stand. You tried to gesture him up the ladder to the cockpit, but he shook his head, arms crossed.
“You first.”
You squint at him, shocked by his brazenness, shocked that he’s insinuating watching below you as you ascend the ladder, and your tummy does full back flips before you realize that he’s probably waiting to make sure you have enough working muscles in your abdomen to keep yourself upwards as you climb. You’re thankful you’re going up first, now, with the way you’re blushing again.
The ladder is a beast, but you’re up, and you’re not hurting that bad, so you make your way over to the chair where you usually hold the baby and fall into it. The ship is hurtling through hyperspace, smoother than the X-Wing did, but still shakily, and you have to avert your eyes from the rush of it because it’s starting to make you dizzy. Something brushes your leg, and you realize it’s the Mandalorian’s cape, worn and tattered, but fluttering past you even in the cockpit, and you bring a knee to your aching chest to hide your smile as he breezes past you to the pilot’s seat.
“Are you hungry?”
You can’t tell who he’s talking to until the baby looks at you, bug-eyed and questioning. “Not really.”
“You need to eat something.”
“I will. I can’t eat too soon after I wake up or I get sick. I don’t think vomiting would do my stomach any favors.”
He cocks his helmet back at you and you smile again, jutting your chin into your hand. He’s silent, but it isn’t an unsettling one. After sleeping a foot from him last night, you don’t think his silence will ever make you feel unsettled or uneasy again. It’s just there, permeating, surrounding both of you. You want to ask him a million things, and you don’t know which one to pick, but you also don’t want to force anything through the quiet.
It feels like hours have passed by the next time you open your mouth. You want to ask him where you’re headed again, but what falls out instead is, “Do you even know my name?”
He looks back at you, swings his helmet back to center, and then spins the entire chair around instead. “What?”
“I’ve been living here for almost a month,” you realize, counting the days on your fingers. “I babysit your kid. You trust me with your ship,” you say, looking up at the stars flying past the Crest. “Do you know my name?”
He stares at you. The helmet is obscuring his vision, but you know he’s staring at you. You can feel his eyes on your face, looking how your lips are parted, your hair still piled in a mess on your head.
“Of—” he starts, and then both of you are thrown sideways. Something on the dashboard is blaring, and before you can haul yourself off the floor, the Mandalorian is extending a hand to you as he navigates the ship out of hyperspace. You scramble back to the chair and buckle in, grabbing onto the baby’s floating cradle so that he won’t get knocked around either. You want to ask if the Mandalorian needs your help, but as quickly as the ship fell into disarray, the beeping stops. Your heart is hammering.
“What was that—?”
“I forgot about the shields,” he muttered under his breath, and then you look outside the window, and you realize where you are. You swallow, looking out at the planet in front of you, wide and purple and all-encompassing. You fold your legs up under yourself, not focused on anything except where you’re headed. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, hungry and roaring.
“Hey,” his voice filters back in, and it’s sharp, and you look over at him, trying to look neutral. You can tell it’s not working. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell again?”
“No,” you whisper, and then repeat it louder, “No, I’m okay. I just wasn’t expecting to…be back here anytime soon.”
The Crest pulls through the planet’s atmosphere, and you breathe a sigh of relief that you aren’t anywhere close to the heart of Galactic City, that wherever the bounty’s new coordinates were, it was on the opposite side of where you had been the last time you were here. Besides, you were staying on the ship, and you didn’t have to breathe any of the air of the planet if you didn’t want to. You swallowed, and as he pulled into a landing bay, you realize the Mandalorian’s helmet is still trained on you.
“You’re not a fan,” he says. It’s not a question. “Of Coruscant.”
“No,” you say, and you don’t elaborate because you’re not sure if you can without your voice shaking.
He keeps his visor trained on you, and you try to smile, but you’re afraid it’ll come out looking more like fear. “I’ll be quick,” he says, and his voice is low, honest. It reminds you of the way he talks to the kid, not to you, but you’re too shaken by being thrown out of hyperspace and landing on the planet you almost died on to understand the significance of his cadence. “Come downstairs with me.”
You follow him, aware of his gaze on your body as you descend the ladder. In any other circumstance, you could feel it burning straight through you, but you were too focused on trying not to fall. Silently, you match his footsteps as he walks over to the armory. His body is so large, so present, that you focus on the beskar and try to keep moving. The Mandalorian pushes a lever and the armory opens, and you blink at all the metal as your eyes adjust.
“Pick one.”
Hazily, you remember he told you to pick a weapon last night, and you let your eyes survey all the glinting metal before you settle on a small blaster, one that looks like a cousin of the one you lost in your crash landing. Similar enough to be strapped to your thigh in the same belt you still have around your waist, and you fit it in there triumphantly. You give the Mandalorian a half smile, and he nods, shutting the case.
It’s dark in the Razor Crest, even in Coruscant’s glitz and glamour. You rest your head against the wall, suddenly exhausted.
“I’ll be quick,” the Mandalorian repeats after prolonged silence, after you’ve made it clear you aren’t going to say anything else. “You stay here, with the doors locked. Sleep more, if you need it.” He tosses you something, and you don’t catch it in time. You bend down to grab it, but his hand is already around it, glancing off your hand for a second too long as he presses it into your palm. “This is to be used for emergencies,” he says. You stare at it. It’s a commlink, a new, fancy one. You nod. “If… if something happens, or if…” he trails off, cocking his head at you, “if I need you to come get me, you just press this button, and you can talk to me.”
He lingers for a second longer and then descends the gangplank, and it isn’t until he’s gone that his words fully register.
If you have to come get him? That’s new.
“Hey!” you call, and you know he can’t hear you anymore, but you can’t help yourself, “what constitutes as an emergency?”
Hours pass. One, slowly, and then two, and then three. You finally eat, you make sure the baby has too. You think about showering, but you haven’t been able to lift your arms above your head since you got your stomach bruised yesterday, so you lay spread eagled on the floor babbling halves of songs and whatever random thought runs through your head. You do everything you can to not look outside at the planet around you, to ruminate on the sleek buildings. You haven’t been on Coruscant for years, not since you were first out on your own when you were still a teenager, and you’ve tried everything in you to forget what happened the last time you were on the planet’s surface.
The baby coos at your feet, and you prop yourself up on your forearms, still sore. It doesn’t ache as much as it did this morning, and your bruises have turned this ugly yellow color around the edges, but you can flex without agony, which definitely means you’re just banged up.
“Hi bug,” you say, and he giggles, climbing up onto your sore belly, and you groan. “Hi. What’s up?”
He makes a series of noises, and you can’t understand him like his father clearly can, but you can gather the gist of what he’s saying. He’s babbling away, now pointing his tiny finger up to the ceiling, and you pretend you know exactly what he means.
“You’re absolutely right. Mhm, yep, I know. Is that true?”
He claps his hands together.
“You’re right, again, you little womp rat. Excellent point.”
He giggles.
“You’re much cuter than a womp rat, you know.” You pause. “I gotta tell you though, buddy, I don’t know what a womp rat looks like.”
He gasps, all awe. You look at him. There’s something about the kid, something magical, something that feels…elevated. You look into his big eyes, and you see yourself. You know that it’s because the things are huge, but it’s that same gnawing intuition in your belly that you had when you first met the Mandalorian, the same one that told you to crash land on Nevarro instead of trying to make it somewhere else, the same one that got you out of Coruscant the last time—you shake your head, trying to clear it from your head. You softly touch the baby’s nose, just once, and he giggles and climbs into your arms.
It doesn’t take long until you start itching for something else to do, so you peel yourself off the cockpit’s floor and start cleaning, using part of your torn shirt to dust off the dashboard and the pilot’s seat, humming ancient lullabies under your breath. You stop short when you realize you’re singing, and you double check the air locks, making sure you’re safe in here. You don’t dare to put on the radio, and you don’t sing louder than under your breath, because even though you have the new blaster strapped to your hip, the memory of yesterday is still too recent in your head. It isn’t long until you find yourself in the tiny room where the fresher is, looking at yourself in the mirror for the first time in days.
Your eyes are wild, that’s the first thing you notice. Frazzled, on edge, the kind of gleam that you used to get flying in the Alliance, but without the pride and the adrenaline. Your hair is a hot mess. You touch the lock of hair the Mandalorian pushed behind your ear last night, reverently, softly. Your shirt is ripped and stained to hell, and your necklace is hanging at a strange angle, the chain link touching the insignia, totally off kilter. You see the small blaster on your hip catch the light, and you pull it out of its hold. It’s shiny, sturdy, and much newer than the one you lost in the fire. You’ve never been a perfect shot, but the gun fits in your hand as well as the old one did, and when you hold it, you feel confident enough to know how to cock it back and pull the trigger, and you think you probably hit the target.
You look forlornly at the shower, and before you can think about how sore you are, you strip the rest of your clothes off, leaving the gun and the commlink on the small counter beside the mirror. You’re planning to be quick, just a rinse and scrubbing soap off of the leftover blood and grime from the night before, but when the water hits, it’s warm and inviting and it envelops you. You let it unfurl your messy hair from your head, let it permeate into your sore shoulders and all the way down your spine, temporarily washing away the years of nights spent sleeping in uncomfortable positions on makeshift beds. You touch your fingers over your belly, following the scar straight down to where it drifts off on the left side of your stomach. It doesn’t hurt anymore, but the bruises resist your fingers. You reach for the soap, and it’s blindly, and you don’t realize until you’ve been scrubbing for a minute that it’s very much not the subtle lavender scent you picked up a few bounties back, but the Mandalorian’s. It smells like clean wood and leather and strangely, cinnamon, that amalgamation of freshness that fades off skin slowly. You push the full bar up to your nose, and when you breathe in you can almost see it lathering into his skin, can almost feel your tongue licking clean up against it if he was in here with you—you catch yourself. Again. It’s there again, the arousal and want that had been long dormant before you ever met the Mandalorian. He’s infiltrated everything. You shake water out of your hair and think of anything else while your hands slip down the rest of your body, trying and failing to forget the way his voice got low when he found you hurt, how he touched you, how he held your throat with a singular hand—
Something is making noise, and you force yourself out of your fantasy to the sound. “Hey,” comes a disembodied voice, and your wet hand fumbles for the blaster before you realize it’s coming from the commlink. You sigh, turning off the water, tripping out of the fresher, scrambling to pick it up.
“Are you okay?”
“I need you to come get me.”
You stare at the commlink, then at your reflection in the mirror. You don’t have clothes on. Come to think of it, you don’t know if you have clothes to change into, and you’ve suddenly been promoted to getaway driver.
“Can you hear me?”
Even through the modulator, his voice is deep. You startle yourself out of your reverie.
“Yes. I’m sorry. I need a minute—”
“I’m going to give you coordinates,” the Mandalorian says, and then there’s a huge blast, and silence.
“Hey. Hey! Mando—”
“I’m here,” he says, but it’s gruff. “Dank ferrik. I’m hit. Here are the coordinates.”
You scramble out of the fresher, looking for clothes. You can’t find anything, and your bag must still be upstairs in the cockpit, so you shove open the alcove where the Mandalorian sleeps in a desperate attempt. There’s a shirt, just a shirt, but it falls to your knees and you make your compromise with the underwear you stepped out of before the shower. “I’m coming. Please hold on. Pleaaaaase hold on,” you whisper, low enough that you hope he can’t hear your wheedling, and then you’re up the ladder, your hair wet and wild, dripping on the cockpit floor.
“Do you have your blaster?”
“Um,” you say as you navigate the Crest out of the landing bay—hell, this ship doesn’t know how to move. “Yes?” You scramble down the ladder and back up again with your blaster in hand. You punch in the coordinates and let the ship go into autopilot as you scramble back down the ladder and grab the gun, wrapping your wet hair up in a towel.
“Grab the kid and put him in his cradle,” the Mandalorian says, and you do, and the wild look in the baby’s eyes makes you give him a quick kiss before you shut the crib and push him into the darkest corner.
“I’m almost here,” you say, and you can see what he was talking about. You’re still not near the hustle and bustle of Galactic City, but Coruscant has layers, each of them grittier than the last. The Mandalorian is attached to what you hope to the Maker is his quarry, lugging the conspicuous body up a hill, blasting at what looks like twenty other men. “I’m here. I’m gonna land—”
“You need to get out of sight,” he manages, and the commlink goes quiet. You do your best to land the ship—it’s not handling well at all—and then scamper down the ladder for the third time in wet feet. You grab the baby’s floating egg and your blaster, strapping the commlink to your wrist, and scrambling into the little alcove that holds the Mandalorian’s bed.
There’s a minute before he enters the ship, and everything is quiet. You huddle at the back of the chamber, the baby next to you with the blaster in your hand. Your towel has come loose and there are wet chunks of hair in your face, and you wait in the silence before he comes in. The cot is tiny, and not that comfortable, but this small space smells like his soap and the dirt he carries around, and despite it feeling lumpy in all the wrong place, you could absolutely fall asleep here, surrounded by him. It distracts you, and you hum lowly in your throat before you hear the hiss of the gangplank and you swallow all the air.
You’ve been seen by bounties before, they’ve made comments about you, and then they’ve been frozen in carbonite. A few looked dangerous, a few were just creepy, but the Mandalorian always let you handle yourself around them. This is the first time he’s ever told you to get out of sight, and you don’t know if it’s because the events of last night are still fresh in his mind, or because whoever he captured was dangerous. You wait with bated breath as you hear blows land, and when it’s been quiet for what you gauge is long enough before you peek out of the alcove. The Mandalorian is on the ground, and you can’t tell if he’s just resting after a fight until someone peeks back at you and you pull the trigger the second the alcove doors fly open. You rocket up on your knees, punching one arm out at a swaying body before he hits the ground, and the Mandalorian comes to. The man on the ground is livid, swinging at your bare feet, and you kick him backwards, not gracefully, but powerfully enough, and he collides with the carbonite gas, and before the Mandalorian can get to his feet, you press the button. The blue faced bounty is frozen, instantly, and you gasp in air as you sag back on the Mandalorian’s bed.
“What did I say about getting out of sight?”
“I did,” you manage, between gasps, “and then you got knocked out.”
He trains his visor on you, and you smile victoriously for a full second before you realize his hand is bloody. You follow it down to the slip in the beskar and see that there’s a nasty gash under where his hand is pressed.
“You’re hurt.” You scramble forward, grabbing the towel off your head. Your hair falls in your face, and it definitely smells like his soap, but you’re not sure if he’s conscious enough to notice. “Hey. Hey you. Mando. Stay awake.”
“’M fine,” he slurs, and you want to pull the helmet clean off his head and look into his eyes when you tell him to shut up.
“Definitely not fine,” you say, pulling him down to the ground with you. It’s messy, you know that much, and you know he has some bacta patches hidden around you, but you need the bleeding to stop. “Hey. Listen to me. I have to take this off,” you say, gesturing at the plate at his midriff. “You’re hit, I think it was a blast, but I need to make sure.”
“No,” he says, and you grab his visor and drop to your knees on his left side, pushing your palm flat against it.
“I’m not going to look at anything except the cut. You weren’t hit in the head, were you?”
“No,” he repeats, and you nod.
“Okay, then I’m not gonna see your face. I won’t look at anything else except the cut. But you’re losing blood, fast, and there’s definitely people shooting at the ship, and I need to make sure you’re okay before I get us the hell out of here.”
He nods. It’s small, but you catch it.
You inhale sharply when you lift the small piece of armor. He’s bleeding, but the wound is small, and you’re able to shove the towel on it to suffocate the blood while your hand flutters around in the small hold behind you until you can find ointment and the bacta patches. “Hey. Mando.” His hand finds your free wrist, and you stop investigating the ointment to look at him. “What?” you ask, your voice softer.
“Cauterize,” he manages, and you look back and forth between him and the wound, and you shake your head.
“It’s not that bad,” you promise, checking to see if the blood has started to clot around the wound. “Look, it’s gonna hurt for a few days, but the bleeding is slowing down, and I can give you this ointment and then put the bacta patch over it, and you’re going to be okay.”
He flails at your arm again, and before you can realize what you’re doing, you straddle him, one hand on his abdomen against the stifled wound, and one reaching up to touch his helmet, as lightly as you can, in some desperate attempt to soothe him, “I promise, I know when a wound needs cauterizing.” You point at your own stomach, hoping he’ll remember the scar. He nods again, and you exhale. “I swear, I’m going to fix it right now, okay?”
You pull the towel away and press the ointment into his skin. You can tell it stings, he hisses and groans through the modulator, and if you weren’t so preoccupied with trying to save his life, your brain would have fixated on the noises he was making as you straddled him. Once the bacta patch was secure and you were sure that it held, your fingers grazed over his bare skin. It was golden, soft to the touch, such a stark contrast to the shiny silver beskar exoskeleton that you stopped just for a moment to stare at it. You touched as lightly as you could, and once you were positive that he had stopped bleeding, you pulled his undershirt down and reattached the armor, sliding sideways off of him, resting against the same wall for the second time in two days.
It took a few minutes and lots of nervous babbling from the baby, but the Mandalorian finally eased himself back into consciousness, and when you heard him stir, you whipped around.
“What…” he starts.
“You got hit—” you interrupt.
“…Are you wearing?” Mando finishes, and your cheeks flush, looking down at his giant shirt you never changed out of.
“I was—when you called, I was in the fresher,” you say, scooting slightly closer to him, resting on both knees. “I didn’t have time to put anything else on before you told me to hide.”
“Oh,” he sighs, and then he’s pushing himself off the floor despite literally every single warning you spurt at him, and finally, he’s up against the same wall you’re leaning against. The space is small, small enough that two people would be pushing it, and the fact that one of those people is much larger than the other and in giant beskar armor means that your forehead is almost flush against the visor when he turns his head into you. Your breath catches in your chest. It’s not lost on you that in the heat of the moment, you didn’t run. You ignored where you were, and you forged on to save him. That didn’t happen the last time you were on this planet and the fact that belonging to something—to someone—was enough to push past the fear and do it anyway sung inside you.
“I know,” the Mandalorian says, and you inhale, hoping you didn’t just unintentionally say all of that out loud.
“What?”
He sighs, and it comes out through the modulator, but he’s not annoyed. You can tell that much through his filtered air—you know when he’s exasperated, and more and more lately, it hasn’t been directed towards you.
“Your name.”
You swallow. “Say it.”
He does. Perfectly. “It suits you. Names…Mine has only been shared once since I became a Mandalorian. I was on my deathbed, and that’s the only reason. I haven’t named the kid. He might already have one, but I don’t know it, so I don’t use it.”
You nod against the visor, your head touching his helmet. The beskar is surprisingly warm, and you pause there for a second, not wanting to move it away.
“Names don’t hold significance to me,” he whispers, and it cuts through the darkness of the hull of the ship. “I don’t need them to trust someone.”
You want to say you understand, even if you don’t entirely get it, but he sighs again and then you think he’s asleep, his helmet sliding down to the crook between your head and your shoulder. If you reached with your pinky, it could interlink with his gloved one, and you wait a few minutes to be sure he’s okay. When you hook his pinky with yours, he breathes, cinches it at the knuckle, and fades off into sleep.
#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian fanfic#din djarin#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din dijarin fanfiction#star wars#fanfiction#i hope y'all enjoy!!!!!#see you all next saturday for the next chapter update!!!
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Light My Cigarette
Javier Peña x Female Reader
Summary: After a rough work operation Reader is shaken up, Javier attempts to comfort Reader instead of letting them fall into bad habits.
A/N: This was my fic for the Pedro Secret Santa exchange, I had @aerynwrites - I wrote a hurt/comfort smut with Javier and Reader, I had a really fun time writing this and I love doing fic swaps (this is my like 3rd one and I'm addicted to doing them) I also decided to try and write the smut a little differently then I usually do and also tried to write in the second person for the first time- plus this is the first time I’m writing for Javier as well. Hope you enjoy! Requests are open!
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Smoking, Mentions of physical assault, Reader is a bit mean to Javier at first, Some crying, Oral sex (f receiving), Penetrative sex, Unprotected sex
Main Masterlist Word count: 1.5k
“Can I have one?” You said to Javier who was standing at the steps outside the embassy. He seemed confused at first about what you were talking about until you pointed to the cigarette he held between his fingers.
His eyebrows furrowed even more once he understood your request, it was well known that you despised the way him and Steve always had a cigarette hung around their lips. When you had first joined the duo at the embassy you imposed a strict rule on your first day that the windows had to be open if they wanted to smoke, either that or smoke outside. He still obliged your request despite his confusion, handing a fresh one over to you.
Your fingers shook unintentionally as you brought the cigarette up to your lips, beckoning Javier to lean in and light it. He again obliged your request, leaning in towards you with his lighter flicked on setting the stick aflame.
Javier’s questioning gaze still didn’t leave you while he lit his own. He was undoubtedly questioning your behavior after the last raid, being captured for a short while was part of the plan, it was fine, you were fine. The only visible marks you had from the encounter was a bruise that had quickly blossomed along the side of your cheek and a slightly bloody lip.
“Lets get you home.” Javier spoke with an uncharacteristic softness making you bristle even more, the only reason he was acting like this was because of your bruised figure. You scoffed to yourself slightly after taking your last puff before stubbing it out on the ground with your shoe. You were fine.
---
The drive back to the apartment complex that the embassy owned was almost completely silent, the only noises that reached your ears was the soft hum of the engine and any quiet noise from the dwindling traffic. Javier kept glancing back at you every so often, you couldn’t really tell if they were from genuine worry for your wellbeing, he wasn’t really well known for his compassion for others. The only time you had seen a similar look on his face was when he rescued Helena. You shrunk from his gaze a little once you made the connection in your head, Javier and you may be close but you certainly didn’t want his pity.
It shouldn’t change anything, again, you were fine. You only had been briefly roughed up by Escobar’s men, they hadn’t been able to do much in the short time that they had you before Javier and Steve had shown up with Carillo to ‘rescue’ you. It had all gone according to plan, you had gotten the needed information and walked away with minimal injuries. Again- you were fine.
---
“Are you ok?” Javier’s words cut through the thick air rife with tension in your apartment as he dropped you off at your door. You had been practically climbing the walls of the inside of his car before he pulled up outside the apartment complex in order to escape his lingering looks. Even going so far as to ask for another cigarette from him just for a bit of escape in the moment, though this time Javier didn’t oblige you. Unfortunately, he also had felt the need to follow up behind you even though his own apartment was at the other end of the hall.
“I don’t want your pity.” The snarl in your voice and the slam of your door seemed to catch Javier off guard, the tone you had adopted was usually reserved for your encounters with sicarios. Even if you found Javier infuriating at times you still never spoke to him in that tone. You actually regarded Javier as a close friend, maybe even a little bit more.
“I don’t pity you.” You even caught the add on I care about you that he mumbled at the end but there was no quelling your inner turmoil. Javier didn’t care about you, at least not in the way you wanted him to. The both of you were standing an arms length apart in the middle of your living room the tension begging to be broken.
“Is it because I’m a woman? Is that why you keep looking at me like that? I’m fine, they barely touched me.” You were just ranting at this point, unfairly taking it out on the first person in front of you which happened to be Javier. Hot tears started to prickle in your eyes threatening to spill over into large crocodile tears dripping down your cheeks.
“I don’t pity you.” He reiterated to you before continuing, “It’s ok if you’re not ok.”
Biting your lip at his words you shrunk back in on yourself crossing your arms around your midsection with even more tears falling. Ok- you definitely weren’t ok, you admitted to yourself. The way the men had beat you, even if it was only a little had in reality shook you up quite a bit. The worst part being that you could still feel their hands on you, you wished that the feeling would be replaced with more caring hands.
Javier took a hesitant step towards you, opening his arms and beckoning you in close for a hug. Your own steps towards him were equally as hesitant, but the resistance towards someone helping you, namely Javier, was slowly melting away.
After a few quiet minutes just standing in your living room basking in the comfort given to you you looked up at Javier only to find his eyes already on you. His lips parted slightly as your own gaze started to bore into his own, the tension so thick now that you could cut it with a knife. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before leaning in slightly, very willing to give into the tension yourself.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you.” His words only served to make you want him more, to pull him close and never let go.
“You’re not I promise. I just want to feel you, to have you hold me close.” You snuck your arms underneath his leather jacket to gain a bit more of the warmth that he radiated around him bringing you ever closer to the comfort you desired.“I just want you.”
When his lips hit yours the first thing that stood out to you is that Javier’s lips were unexpectedly soft. His other movements were just as soft as he slipped his tongue into your mouth gently while bringing his hands to cup your cheeks. The two of you had always danced around the unspoken chemistry in your relationship never really fully acting on it, until now.
The scent that always clung to his clothes invaded your senses a mixture of whiskey, the cigarettes you had both smoked, and something you couldn’t name that was distinctly Javi. Both of you made your way back to your bedroom never really breaking apart from one another unless it was to come up for a quick breath. He made you fall apart on his tongue slowly piece by piece pulling away a few times before finally letting you fall over the cliff.
When he finally sunk into you your back was pressed against his chest with your side pressed into the mattress, and his large hand wrapped around your thigh to hike it up towards your chest. Though you were not facing each other in the position you two had chosen, you felt completely connected with him, your bodies moving in sync with each other perfectly. You let out a loud whine of his name when he dropped his fingers down to your clit and started to rub slow devastating circles into you.
Even if it was the first time that you and Javier were sleeping together you could tell that the softness in the way he rotated his hips and the way he cradled you softly was uncharacteristic of Javier. You could quite literally feel the love from him which made tears again prickle at the corner of your eyes, though for a much better reason compared to beforehand.
“Mi corazón.” Javier wasn’t a man of many words, in his day to day life and also while you slept together the weight of his words fell deep in your gut and the droplets that clung to the corners of your eyes spilled over. A second orgasm washed over you, in response to being completely overwhelmed by his actions. Javier rocked into you a few more times before spilling onto the back of your thighs, then quickly angling your face towards him to envelope you into a breathless kiss.
“I’ve got you, mi corazón.” He quietly whispered to you while pressing kisses to your temple after cleaning you up, then rejoining you in your bed and pulling you to rest on his chest. You felt true comfort in his arms as you drifted to sleep not feeling any desire to have another cigarette.
---
Mi corazón- my heart
#pedros12daysofchristmas#javier peña#javier peña x reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#javier peña smut#pedro pascal fic#secret santa#narcos#pedro pascal smut
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thunderstorm blues
synopsis: when large storms roll into your home away from home, you have to find some way to comfort yourself. music and a private spot in the corridor is exactly what you need... not peter parker waking you up.
pairing: we know each other, but we don't! peter peter x reader
word count: 1k
blurb | original | au | request
a/n: we're all going to pretend peter is british, okay? this is completely a different universe - there is no spider-man as of right now. however, i hope you all enjoy it!
Night fell rather quickly today. You weren’t sure how or why, but it did. It was just another boring Saturday where you would sit and study, taking time to yourself and take in the grounds again. You would read your tea leaves, journal and then see your friends for dinner. No one had mentioned a storm at dinner, perhaps they didn’t know? You weren’t too sure, but you laid flipped on your side, looking at the walls that were painted a light brown, a few of your artwork lined the walls.
A loud clap of thunder had you closing your eyes quickly, pulling the blankets up closer to your face in a way to plug your ears. The rain pattered gently against the window, lighting flashing the sky for a moment. Your eyes slowly opened again, flipping over to your other side, looking at your roommate who was peacefully sleeping. You wished you were her. Sleeping peacefully during a large thunderstorm.
A sigh left your lips and you pulled your covers from your body, revealing your exposed skin to the cool air. You placed your feet onto the ground, leaning over to your nightstand to grab your phone, checking the percentage before unlocking it. You pressed the green and black icon, going to your Spotify home screen before going to your playlists. You scrolled for a moment before choosing your playlist named song’s to play when the sky is angry. You opened a draw, taking the earbuds and plugging them into your phone. You placed your earbuds in your ears and stood from the bed. Your bare feet pittered the floor as you pressed play. Harry Styles’ song Cherry began as you grabbed a fluffy blanket and left your shared room.
You walked down the stairs into the common room. The fireplace was still going and everything that was once misplaced, was put back. The paintings were without people and the list of faces who were currently in the Hufflepuff corridors, were asleep. It was peaceful. You continued to patter until you arrived at your corner, sitting down in the comfy chair. The yellow fabric enveloped you as you threw your legs over the arms of the chair and then placed your blanket on top of you. You leaned your head against the chair, closing your eyes for a moment.
And a moment you got.
You were shaken awake by an unknown figure close to 4am. They were whispering a soft ‘hey, wake up’ as they shook you. You jolted up, swatting their hand away and pulling your earbuds out of your ear to scold the person. But you turned to look over your shoulder and came face to face with Peter, your long time crush and current Prefect. Your eyes widened as you looked at him.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Peter joked.
“I wasn’t sleeping.” You battled, rubbing your eyes. Peter laughed.
“Oh? Tell that to your drool.”
You quickly lifted your hand to wipe at your mouth but as you did so, Peter chuckled out a ‘I’m joking.’ You looked back at him, eyes squinting to look at him in the dark before rolling your eyes and throwing your legs from the arm of the chair.
“Very funny.”
Peter shrugged, putting both of his hands on his knees. “I thought so.”
You pulled the blanket back up to your face. You stared at your knees as Peter got comfortable on the floor. You wondered why he was here. You fell asleep, sure, but he could’ve woke you up later instead of four fucking am. He wasn’t doing rounds right now, you would know. You were once a Prefect but after someone caught you in the Restricted Section of the library, you gave up the job.
“Why did you wake me?” You asked.
“Why did you fall asleep out here?” Peter retorted and you let out an exasperated laugh.
“Why do you care?”
“Why shouldn’t I care?”
Your hands dropped and the blanket fell with it. “We’re not playing the why game, Peter.”
Peter nodded and looked away from you. You looked at him as he looked away, admiring his features in the moonlight. He looked beautiful, literally so fucking beautiful. You constantly wondered what his curls would feel like between your fingers and his lips against yours. You wondered what he would do when you would kiss him at random times and how he would sound when you made him laugh harder than anyone. You never really believed that the two of you could be together. He looks like that and the amount of girls who pinned after him was outrageous, he has some many to choose from… why would he choose you?
You were pulled away from your thoughts as Peter spoke up, drawing your attention directly to his voice.
“I know you’re scared of storms.” He answered, eyebrows rising. “I was just making sure you were okay.”
There was a pause as you looked at one another. “How did you know I am scared of storms?”
“We’ve known each other since-”
“No,” you cut off. “I’ve never told anyone that… How did you know?”
Peter threw his head back and closed his eyes. He was thinking hard about what to say while you sat and thought of every bad thing that could happen. He shook his head and positioned it back straight, opening his eyes to look at you.
“I just… I caught up on it. You always seemed worried when others would bring up storms, especially when it was during class. You hated when it stormed during Divination because of the roof and how loud the sounds were.” Peter explained, truthfully. “I just picked up on it, I don’t know.”
You looked at him, eyebrows furrowing as the words sank in. You huffed out air and pushed your blankets off your legs, the heat becoming too much at the moment.
“Do you know why?” You asked.
“No.”
“Because the world becomes dark and things get loud. Things feel dangerous and there’s no way to get out of it. It just changes too quickly. It’s like the world just… changes.” You explained and Peter nodded.
“I understand that.” He responded. Peter bit his lip and picked up your blanket as he stood up. “I think the storm is done. If you need someone to sleep with or something… My doors open.” He handed the blanket back to you before walking away, leaving you to sit along by yourself.
want to talk about it? my works.
#Peter Parker imagine#Peter Parker x reader#Peter Parker oneshot#Peter Parker fanfic#Peter Parker one shot#Peter Parker fluff#Peter Parker angst#Peter Parker x you#Peter Parker x fem!reader#Peter Parker blurb#mine
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you & i.
pairing: tom holland x reader
summary: tom’s on his way to ask you an important question. the problem? he’s not sure what your answer will be, considering the messy circumstances.
word count: 1.9k
warnings: angst with fluff at end, shitty writing (whoops).
notes: here is this one-shot that was laying around for a bit, i watched the movie “the choice” on netflix a while back and this fic is (very) loosely based on that film. also, chapter eight of ready, set, action! is coming along great, i will post it soon:) thanks for reading, and as always my ask-box is open for feedback or just in general (i would appreciate it greatly). happy reading:)
here’s my masterlist!
send me an ask or feedback!
tom gripped the steering well as if his life depended on it, nerves bouncing off of him. he was scared, he was praying that he would be able to fix this mess that he created, that everything would be alright.
to put it into simpler terms, it was a race for him to reach you, the love of his life.
the objective? he had to ask you an important question. but the problem was that he wasn’t entirely sure what your answer would be.
—
“what do you want me to say y/n? this is my job.” tom runs his hand through his already disheveled hair as he paces back and forth.
“i understand that tom. but there needs to be some sort of effort. i haven’t talked to you in days.” you whisper, tears threatening to spill.
“yes, i know that! but you should understand that i can’t be there all the time. i have commitments, i have a schedule that i have to follow, i can’t be at your beck and call for fuck’s sake! god y/n, i can’t do this right now! i need a break from all of this goddamn it!”
tom hears you take in a sharp breath, and you both are silent for a bit before you speak.
“okay then. i guess we’re done.”
tom’s breath hitches as he hears the “beep!”, indicating that you had ended the call.
—
tom shakes his head in frustration as he blinks back the tears, thinking about that god awful fight. oh, how he wished he was honest. honest about how terrified he was about losing you.
—
it wasn’t even ten minutes after that fateful call when harrison found him frantically shoving clothes in his suitcase. “tom, what…”
“y/n ended it and it’s my fault. i need to see her.” harrison gasps, seeing tom’s red-rimmed eyes, and silently nods as he himself starts to pack a suitcase for himself, much to tom’s confusion.
“you’re a bloody idiot if you think i’m not coming with you.”
tom could only stare at his best friend before throwing his arms around him, and harrison can only rub his back soothingly as tom breaks down, hoping that everything would be alright and resolved once he gets to you.
—
tom has a hunch that you wouldn’t answer the door if he knocked, as you had the habit of peeking through the curtains to see who was outside the door, so he used the spare key that you had given him months ago to open up your door. silently kicking his shoes off, he walks into the living room and he could swear, the sight before him had his heart shattering into pieces.
you were cuddled alongside another guy, blankets draped over you both, holding you in his arms.
a guy that wasn’t tom.
“what the fuck.” tom mutters, and you snap your head towards the entryway.
“tom.” you let out a breath and tom scoffs, walking backwards and walking towards the front door.
“my bad. didn’t know you were busy.” he sarcastically spits out.
“tom, wait! it’s not what it looks like. he’s just a friend.” tom lets out a bitter laugh, and turns to look at the girl that he loves so dearly, the only one that could cause him pain this bad.
“i came here for you y/n. i came here because i cared about us, i cared about you. i loved you! and you do this?”
you halt in your steps and look at the boy who made you feel like you were floating on clouds, the only boy who made your stomach erupt into butterflies and made you feel so special.
the boy who was also able to break your heart into bits.
“loved?” you meekly whisper out.
tom looks down for a bit, before looking right at you, which he immediately regretted, seeing the sorrow and sadness pool in your eyes.
“yeah. goodbye y/n.” he tosses the key on your entry table and walks out without another word, getting into his car and driving back to his house, tears streaming down the entire way.
—
tom and harrison turn towards the door, someone pounding rapidly at the door.
“i’ll go.” harrison pats tom’s shoulder and makes his way to the front door.
tom shudders and rubs his eyes tiredly, grabbing another tissue, absolutely exhausted and drained from crying the entire night.
“tom? someone’s here to see you.” tom gives harrison a questioning look who only shrugs in response, and moves out of the way to reveal the boy that you were with last night.
“what the fuck are you doing here.” tom angrily stands up and harrison quickly moves in front of the boy, shielding him, knowing how much of a short fuse his dear friend possesses.
“whoa man, you got it all wrong! just let me explain!” the poor kid puts his hands up, and harrison mutters an “oh shit”, realizing that this was the boy that tom saw with you.
“explain?! are you shitting me right now?”
“i’m just her friend man!”
“yeah i’ve heard this best friend shit before, now fucking leave.”
“i’m gay!”
both tom and harrison snap their heads towards the boy, it was a miracle they didn’t get whiplash.
“what?” tom whispers, and ian takes this chance to explain.
“i’m ian. i’m y/n/n’s best friend. we went to the same high school, and i got picked on a lot. she literally saved my life, i mean that girl can be terrifying if she wanted to, literally scared all those assholes away…” ian continues to ramble as tom and harrison stare in shock.
“… and girls are not my type. i actually have a boyfriend.”
tom’s eyes grow wide in remorse as everything starts to click.
“ian… you’re the best friend who lives in new york. you and y/n/n are like siblings… she talks about you all the time.”
“yeah! exactly.” ian grabs tom’s shoulders, slightly shaking him.
“and you need to win your girl back.”
“fuck, fuck, fuck. i fucked up so bad ian shit!” tom puts his head in his hands, and ian looks over at harrison worriedly.
“yeah, yeah you did bro.” harrison states.
tom suddenly jolts up and hurries towards the door. “i have to talk to her. i have to get her back.”
“wait!” tom turns towards ian’s voice. “she’s not home. she went to her family cottage. she was pretty shaken up after everything.”
—
and so here tom was, anxiously peering at the road signs, and letting out a sigh of relief when he sees the familiar cottage. hurriedly parking the car, he unlocks the door by using the hidden spare key and barges in, looking around for you, but with no avail.
c’mon baby. where are you…
something catches his eye, and he looks through the window to see you with a blanket on your shoulders, standing on the pier, staring out at the lake view.
bingo.
hastily shoving the door open, he speeds towards the pier. “y/n!”
you turn around to see tom heading towards you. oh god no.
“y/n.” tom catches his breath as he gives you a hopeful smile, but falters in his steps as you move backwards, away from him.
“what are you doing here tom?” tom could see that you were hurt, and the fact that he caused your pain has him feeling immensely guilty.
“i needed to talk to you. there’s this misunderstanding and it’s my fault and i’m so, so sorry darling.”
you fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater nervously as you meet his gaze. “it’s too late tom. go home.”
tom shakes his head. “home is where you are y/n.”
“tom..”
“i was scared that i was going to lose you. because i’m not here, with you. i was scared that one day you would get sick of my shit and leave. you deserve so much better. you deserve someone who can be with you at all times, someone who you can rely on, someone better than me. and so, when i saw you with ian, it was like my worst fear was becoming a reality.”
you shake your head and look at him.
“and you would’ve known that none of that mattered to me. there was no one better than you. i just wanted you tom. no one’s perfect, including us and this relationship. i was patient but a relationship can’t survive without communication, especially a long-distance one. i know how important your career is to you, and you should know how insanely proud i am of you. but i would never make you choose between me and your job, but i wanted some effort. i just wanted you.”
“was? we’re speaking in past-tense now my love?” tom asks.
that darn nickname. you can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach despite the circumstances.
“you started the past-tense bullshit. and don’t call me that.” you send him a glare, turning around to face the lake.
“y/n.”
“i don’t want to hear it tom.”
“well you’re going to hear it either way baby. marry me.”
you instantly swirl back around to see a kneeling tom holding out the most stunning ring you’ve ever seen, glinting in the sunlight.
“wha.. what are you doing tom..” you stammer and tom only smiles.
“marry me.”
you look at him in pure shock for a moment, before straightening up and crossing your arms together. “no.”
tom stares at you, before shaking his head and standing up. he knew you like the back of his hand. you were being stubborn. and he wasn’t going to succumb to it. “yes.”
“no.” you state, looking at him with a stone-cold stare.
“yes.” tom moves closer towards you, determination in his eyes.
“no!” you exclaim, unable to look at him in the eyes anymore, tears brimming in your eyes.
“yes.” tom breathlessly whispers as he presses his forehead towards yours, and the only thing between you both was the gorgeous ring that he was grasping.
“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry for the shit that i said, for how i acted. but darling, i was scared. but we both know that we’re meant for each other. and i don’t want to do life with anyone else. i couldn’t imagine anyone else but you.”
you look anywhere but him, trying to avoid his gaze and tom knows.
“love. marry me.” tom kisses your cheek.
“marry me.” he kisses the tip of your nose.
“marry me.” he kisses the corner of your mouth.
and then you let your walls slip away, cautiously reaching up to cup his cheek, and he nuzzles into your touch, leaving a tender kiss on your palm.
“okay.” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut.
“okay?”
“okay.” you let out a sob as you feel tom sliding the ring on your finger, before cupping your face in his hands and smashing his lips onto yours, pouring all the passion and love he had for you. you eventually pull away for air and tom wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you impossibly close.
“i love you angel. you are the most precious thing to me. you’re the light of my life and i love you so much.” tom whispers against your lips.
“i love you tommy.” you finally open your eyes, looking right in the eyes of the person that you love most in the world, your sweet boy, your person, your fiancé, your soon-to-be-husband, the love of your life…
your tom.
“i can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together.” tom whispers as he nuzzles his face into your neck, pulling you into a tight embrace.
“me neither.” you grin back at a beaming tom and lean in once more, savouring the perfect moment with the man who owned your heart.
- - - - -
hope you liked it! hope to hear from you all soon, i would love to interact with y’all! :)) if you want to be apart of the main taglist, or the taglist for my series, let me know:)
#tom holland#tom holland fic#tom holland x reader#tom holland x y/n#tom holland imagine#tom holland one shot#tom holland one-shot
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Hi! Hello! If you're willing: rain + H50, more specifically: Danny/Steve, with a special participation of Eric, the forgotten boy.
Definitely willing, thank you! Love the Eric love. ❤ This is also on ao3, because I figured why not: Out of the rain, into the frying pan.
---
The downstairs lanai has a roof by way of the upstairs one, but it’s pouring down so violently that even standing in the open door to the backyard Danny could swear he still feels tiny specks of water on his bare arms.
“That’s just your overactive imagination,” Steve says. “Let’s go.” He gives a little push to Danny’s back, but Danny was expecting precisely this kind of peer pressure and is already holding on to the doorframe to brace himself.
“No,” he says, firmly.
“I’m with Uncle D,” their third wheel chimes in. Eric’s been staying with them because his apartment is dealing with a mold problem. It’s real mold, too, not the invented kind that Steve pretends to totally believe so Danny can move in and just conveniently forget to ever move out again ever, especially once they realize that maybe they should have been kissing each other this whole time and it would be highly inconvenient, for said kissing, if Danny’s mouth weren’t living in the same house as Steve’s mouth.
All that aside, though, Eric’s mold is the real kind, the kind that might actually get you sick with something other than worry over your best friend who you want to kiss. Which isn’t happening at the moment, because Eric, due to his actual real mold, is now crashing both on their couch and in the middle of their date weekend.
Which is, partially, why Steve suggested they all go for a nice long walk in the first place. Exercise and fresh air are both very healthy and a good way to not think about other forms of exercise he and Danny may have had planned for this weekend.
When Danny agreed, however, it was hours earlier over breakfast in the morning sun under a clear blue sky. The sky’s not even visible now, the water beating down in sheets like a blackout curtain.
“Oh, come on,” Steve says, even though notably, he himself has also not set a single foot outside yet. Danny doesn’t doubt that he would, if just to prove how totally willing he is to pretend he enjoys punishment, but Danny has also known him long enough not to doubt that Steve is only pushing like this because he knows Danny and Eric will push back. Steve’s light touch moves from between Danny’s shoulder blades down, to the small of his back, and it’s so distracting Danny almost forgets it could be the prelude to another attempt to forcibly encourage him to go outside. “Neither of you is made of sugar,” Steve argues, because of course he would. His train of thought is always suspended on a wobbly bridge between ideas no human being has ever had and the most cliché bits of prosaism available.
Eric, standing safely out of Steve’s reach with his nose a few inches from the window, turns his head and shoots a look at Steve’s hand. “I know you’re intimately familiar with what Uncle D tastes like-”
“Eric,” Danny says, flat and unimpressed.
“-but I might be. Made of sugar, I mean. I’ve been told I’m a very sweet guy.”
Danny shakes his head. Hopeless, this kid. “Who’s been lying to you?”
“Well, if you were made of sugar, wouldn’t you want to know?” Steve asks, in the most Steveish bit of Steveness of the last hour or so. The wobbly train has arrived at the what-the-actual-hell station, where “risk your life to see what you’re made of” is viewed as an acceptable way to reason, even in discussions where it takes on a literal meaning. “All the more need to go outside.”
Danny exchanges a look with Eric. Every once in a blue moon, Danny can definitely see how he might be related to this kid, because suddenly this mid-twenties idiot seems far more sensible than the mid-forties mostly-idiot right behind him.
“No,” Eric says. “I’d rather be a coward and live, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Good choice,” Danny says. Positive reinforcement, and all that jazz. “Never been more proud.”
Eric grins, and then he eyes Steve’s hands again, both of which have landed on Danny’s waist by now. Danny may or may not be leaning into him a little. Steve is warm and dry and Danny is still convinced he can feel the rain that’s pouring down six feet away at his front, so sue him.
Eric, so often a battering ram of a human being, looks uncharacteristically hesitant. “Are you guys sure I’m not getting in the way?”
“Don’t be silly,” Danny says, at the same time as Steve rhetorically asks, “Getting in the way of what?”
Danny is very glad when Eric doesn’t answer that, but less so that it’s because he’s still trying to make himself disappear. “Look, I’ll just go into the garage and take selfies in Steve’s classic car while listening to music at a very unhealthy volume. How does that sound?”
“Bad.” It really does, and not in the least because there’s no way that would even work. Danny is not going to get into a romantic mood while he’s worried about his nephew being banished to Steve’s beloved box of scrap metal on wheels. “Your mother would never let me hear the end of it.” In truth she’d probably never even know, and Danny also has some suspicions about his lonely romantic of a sister being the cause for Eric’s current behavior in the first place (Stella is a good mother, but Danny would not put it past her to bribe her teenage son with a Walkman so he’ll stay out of the way while her boyfriend of the month is over - Danny knows how tangled up priorities can get when you’re desperately trying to give your kid the picture perfect home life with two loving parents), but that’s beside the point.
Steve squeezes Danny’s waist. “What he means is that we like having you here.”
Danny rolls his eyes at the rain. That is what he meant, but it’s also what he said, if not in so many words.
Eric’s grin is back. “Thanks, Uncle S.” He taps the damp window. “I’m still not going for a walk with you.”
“That’s okay,” Steve says, heroically giving up. And then, like he’s gone fully insane and thinks he’s making a peace offering, “There’s a Monopoly game in the closet under the stairs.”
Danny freezes. “Oh God,” he says, but nobody listens to him. How easily the past is forgotten - Steve was there, after all, when Five-0 nearly broke up eight years ago, the last time Steve’s Monopoly board was dusted off.
Kono won, but at what cost? The team hadn’t eaten lunch together a single time for a full month after.
Eric, too young to know, rubs his hands as he turns away from the window and heads for the stairs. “I always had my suspicions about Mr. Monopoly and closets. It’s that bow tie.”
“No ties in Hawaii,” Steve agrees. His hands drop away and his warmth along Danny’s back disappears as he moves to join Eric.
Danny stays where he is, hands braced on the doorframe, grimly face to face with the downpour. Behind him, he can hear a box being set down on the table, and little game pieces being shaken out of their tiny plastic bag. “Hey,” he calls, just when someone up in the clouds seems to turn the faucet from torrential downpour to are you sure you’re not just literally underwater?, “I think it’s starting to clear up.”
“That’s just your overactive imagination,” Steve says, sounding very smug about his own clever callback. Eric cackles, and Danny thinks back wistfully to when his biggest problems could still be solved by lying about mold.
Eric wins when Steve lands on his Boardwalk hotel for the second time in three turns. At least by then the sun is breaking through the clouds, so Danny can drag Steve outside to finally go for that walk before Eric gets glared to the garage after all.
He drags Eric along too, just so he won’t get any weird ideas about being in their way again.
#my immediate association with h50 + forgotten boy would be nahele but there's just. MULTIPLE lost boys#my fic#*#h50#mcdanno#eric russo
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Home is Us
Fandom: 911 Lone Star
Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Owen Strand, Judd Ryder, Tommy Vega, Mateo Chavez
Summary: In the aftermath of the condo fire, Carlos and T.K. seek comfort in one another. Post ep for 2x12 "The Big Heat."
A/N: This is my rather belated post ep for 2x12. And it would not have happened without @bluenet13. Literally. I agonized over this SO MUCH and she listened to all my whining and didn't let me cut the part about Marlon Blendo so I owe her everything.
AO3
The night air was cool and still, the stars sparkling brightly in the sky, but the stench of smoke obliterated any sense of peace or calm. T.K. could feel Carlos’ hand gripping his shoulder with bruising force as they burst out the front doors and onto the lawn, both of them gasping and coughing.
Tommy came running toward them. “Are you all right?” she asked urgently, eyes and hands searching for damage. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m, I’m okay,” T.K. choked out. “Carlos?”
He shook his head, coughing violently. “I’m fine too.”
“T.K.!”
His dad came charging toward him, wrapping him up a fierce hug. “Oh my god,” he breathed into T.K.’s hair and then his other arm was pulling Carlos in too, squeezing them both with every bit of strength he had. “Are you boys all right?”
“We’re good, Dad,” T.K. said, even though he was shaking violently, adrenaline coursing through his veins so fast he felt lightheaded. “What the hell? How did you guys even know we were in trouble?”
“Raymond said something earlier today and I just put the pieces together,” Owen said. “I’m so sorry, I should have figured it out sooner.”
There were sirens screaming up now, ambulances and firetrucks, and Tommy put a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Okay, there will be time to talk about this later. Right now all of you need to get checked out by the paramedics. No objections,” she said quickly when several mouths opened to protest. “A little oxygen never hurt anybody. Come on now.”
T.K. moved follow her and then realized Carlos wasn’t behind him. He turned to find his boyfriend still rooted to the spot, staring straight ahead at the burning building. “Babe?” T.K. reached for his arm.
Carlos startled at his touch and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m coming.”
He was quiet as they sat on the back of the ambulance, answering questions with yes or no answers, eyes and body listless as they checked him over for injuries. T.K. had never seen his boyfriend look so small.
They were both given oxygen and then Tommy reappeared, blankets in hand that she wrapped comfortingly around their shoulders, her mom tendencies coming out in full force. “Is everyone else all right?” T.K. asked, pushing his mask to the side.
“They’ve all got some first and second degree burns, but they’ll heal up all right. How are you two doing?”
“It could have been a lot worse,” T.K. said.
“Carlos?” Tommy asked, her eyes softening and taking on a new level of concern.
He met her eyes and nodded. “I’m okay.”
She looked at him a moment longer and then reached out to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m going to go check on the guys. You two stay right here and do as you’re told, got it?”
It wasn’t long before the paramedics released them with instructions to take it easy, stay hydrated, and head to the emergency room if they experienced any concerning symptoms. T.K. was still in disbelief that they’d escaped so unharmed. It was nothing short of miraculous, if you believed in that kind of thing.
Carlos spoke as they walked away from the ambulance, his voice quiet. “I should uh, I should call my parents,” he said.
“Do you want me to do it?” T.K. asked.
Carlos shook his head, already pulling out his phone. “No. No it’s um, they should hear it from me.”
He dialed, taking a shaky breath as he waited for someone to pick up. “Hey Dad.”
The conversation was painful, even from T.K.’s end. He couldn’t make out Gabriel’s words through the phone, but he could hear the unbridled fear in his voice. Carlos on the other hand sounded almost monotone, relaying the story and pertinent information in painfully exact detail, but without an ounce of emotion behind it, slipping back and forth between English and Spanish as he explained.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before,” Carlos said, when he hung up.
“Yeah.” T.K. looked at his boyfriend who seemed to be refusing to look back. “Carlos? How are you doing?” he finally asked.
“I’m good,” Carlos said, eyes darting toward him and then away. It was clearly a brush off and they both knew it. So T.K. waited.
And then he watched as his boyfriend broke in front of him, anguish and fear spilling out like a wave until they were both clinging to one another as Carlos’ quiet sobs wracked his frame over and over again.
“Shh,” T.K. soothed, struggling to provide some kind of real comfort when he felt so raw himself. “Breathe. We’re okay. That’s all that matters.”
“I should have known, I should have made the alarm company come out today.”
“Carlos listen to me, none of this is your fault.” T.K. pulled him in tighter, desperate to do something to ease his pain.
“If I had just looked around, if we had waited ten more minutes to go upstairs—“
“We had no way of knowing.”
Carlos pulled back, still shaky. “You can’t really believe that. There’s always something. I should have done better.”
T.K. cupped his face in his hands. “Baby why are you beating yourself up over this so much?”
“Because I’m supposed to protect you!” Carlos said, the words coming out on a ragged sob. “That’s my job. To keep people safe. And when it came down to it I couldn’t protect you. The person I care about most in this world I couldn’t—”
T.K. used his thumbs to wipe away some of Carlos’ tears, clearing his throat, trying to keep his own tears at bay. “Listen to me. We’re a team, remember? We protect each other. You and me. Not just you.”
Carlos shook his head, face still contorted in misery. T.K. pulled him back in again and pressed a kiss to his hair. “It’s okay to be upset. But you cannot blame yourself for this. This was not your fault, do you hear me?”
Carlos nodded against his shoulder, but T.K. wasn’t completely convinced his words had gotten through.
Carlos took a shuddering breath and stepped away, wiping at his eyes and T.K. watched the wall go back up; the one Carlos had carefully constructed around him that meant he was always completely even-tempered and never out of control. “We should uh, we should go check on your dad and everybody. Tell them thank you.”
“Yeah, sure,” T.K. said, feeling like he probably should be saying something more, but unable to find the words.
Carlos was already moving toward the group gathered at the back of the ambulance and T.K. had no choice but to follow him. “You guys all right?” T.K. asked as Judd pulled him in for a side hug.
“We’re just glad you’re both okay,” Judd told him. “Everything check out with the paramedics?”
“We both ate a little bit of smoke, but we’re okay,” T.K. said. “Honestly though,” he swallowed hard, “we probably wouldn’t be here without you guys. So thank you.”
“You’re just lucky your dad drives so fast. I didn’t know he had it in him, what with him being such a city slicker,” Billy said with a chuckle.
“My driving is impeccable and I always drive the exact speed limit. Except in emergency situations,” Owen said, casting a look at Carlos.
Carlos managed to scrounge up half a smile but didn’t say anything.
A truck came screeching to a stop just behind the ambulance and Gabriel Reyes jumped out. The man looked truly shaken, eyes wild as he ran toward them. “Carlos! Mijo are you all right?”
“I’m okay Dad,” Carlos told him as they hugged.
“Gracias a Dios. You’re all okay?” Gabriel asked, looking around the group.
“We got out just in time,” Owen said. “Minor injuries only.”
“Which is more than we can say for the condo,” Judd said. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t do more Carlos, he had that place rigged up good.”
Carlos shook his head. “You did everything you could and we’re…” he swallowed hard and T.K. could tell he was blinking back more tears, “we’re very grateful.”
“Have they taken your statements yet?” Gabriel asked.
“Yeah, about half an hour ago,” T.K. said. Officers had come around while they were still sitting at the back of the ambulance and written down what little they knew. Nothing like telling complete strangers that you hadn’t realized your house was burning down around you because you were upstairs having sex with your boyfriend.
“Then there’s no reason you need to be standing around here,” Gabriel said. “You know the ranch is open to you both. Your mother is worried sick, she would be very happy to have you.” He turned to look at Owen. “But perhaps you would rather be closer to work? The ranch is a bit of a drive.”
“Well of course you’re welcome to stay at my place,” Owen said. “There’s plenty of space and Buttercup would love to have you around. But I’m sure Andrea wants you close to her.”
Gabriel shook his head. “I think they’re better off here in town. Andrea will understand. There will be a lot of paperwork to deal with in the coming days, they need to be readily available.”
“Well of course, but I’m not sure how much I can provide in the way of hospitality right now. The investigators didn’t really clean things up when they left,” Owen said meaningfully.
“Not a problem,” Gabriel said, taking out his phone. “I can have a crew there in the morning. It should never have taken this long in the first place. You know sometimes they drag their feet on these things.”
“Oh it’s no problem,” Owen said, waving him off. “Worth it in the end.”
The dads debated a while longer before they decided an exhausted T.K. and Carlos would stay with Owen for the time being to be closer to work and to their former condo for whatever overhaul was necessary. By that point neither of them really cared where they ended up as long as there was a shower and a bed waiting for them.
Owen elected to stay at the scene with Gabriel so Judd drove Carlos and T.K. home. Neither of them said much, still in a state of shock and Judd was mindful enough not to try and fill the truck with conversation.
The house was dark, Mateo asleep for the night. Buttercup looked up as they came in and gave half a tail wag before settling back down again.
“I think I left a couple sweatshirts and pairs of pants here,” T.K. said, searching through the drawers in his dad’s guest room.
“Mmhmm,” Carlos said. He’d sunk onto the end of the bed and was staring blankly at the wall.
“Hey,” T.K. stopped his search and went to him, cupping his face in his hands. “Why don’t you go get in the shower? I’ll find us something to change into and bring it to you.”
Carlos nodded tiredly and disappeared down the hall. T.K. stood for a moment chewing on his lip. He felt lost, adrift, trying to process and deal with his own feelings of grief and stomach churning worry, and Carlos seemed miles away. T.K. didn’t know what to do except to try and meet his physical needs.
He managed to scrounge up a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he thought would do the job. They might be a little tight, but at least Carlos wouldn’t be sleeping in the stench of his smoky clothes.
T.K. knocked softly on the bathroom door before stepping inside and putting the clothes on the counter. “You all right?” he asked.
Carlos sniffed and cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
T.K. gathered up Carlos’ soiled clothes from the floor and dumped them into the washer, intending to add his after he had his own shower. He heard the water turn off and a minute later the bathroom door opened. “I’m done,” Carlos called softly down the hall.
“I’ll be quick,” T.K. said, switching places with him.
The water felt good and he watched as soot and sweat and ash slithered down the drain. He took longer than he meant to, almost lulled to sleep by the soothing pound of the water against his back. Eventually it grew cool and he turned it off, stepping out to try and squeeze into a pair of sweatpants that belonged to his dad and a t-shirt he didn’t recognize but had found in the clean laundry.
T.K. left the bathroom still toweling off his hair. He crept quietly toward the guest room; Buttercup didn’t even move as he stepped over him in the hallway. Opening the door he winced when it squeaked, fully expecting to find Carlos completely sacked out in the bed, more than ready to join his boyfriend in blissful sleep.
Instead he found the room empty and a spiral of fear shot through him so fast it took his breath away. “Carlos?” he whispered, as if the man would suddenly materialize from a dark corner or the tiny closet.
When there was no answer he turned and went back the way he’d come, stepping over Buttercup again, searching the kitchen and the living room before he made his way to the back patio. “Hey,” he said softly when he spotted Carlos sitting on the edge of the outdoor sofa.
Carlos didn’t respond and T.K. felt his worry grow heavier. “Carlos?”
His boyfriend’s shoulders hitched slightly and T.K. walked around the patio furniture to find him hunched over, tears streaming down his face. “Oh baby,” T.K. said, dropping to his knees, hands frantically reaching for him.
“I’m sorry,” Carlos said hoarsely. “I just…I can’t…I’m trying to pull it together but—”
T.K. slipped onto the couch next to him and pulled him into his arms. “You don’t have to be okay,” he whispered, his own throat thick with emotion. “No one expects that of you.”
Carlos’ voice was hoarse and broken. “I’ve never needed saving before. Not like that.”
“Most people don’t,” T.K. said.
Carlos looked at him, eyes red and swollen. “You were amazing in there. I was…I was panicking and you knew exactly what to do.”
“You’re a police officer,” T.K. said, resting his head on top of Carlos’. “I wouldn’t expect you to know what to do in a five alarm fire. Just like you wouldn’t expect me to know what to do in a shootout.”
Carlos sighed and leaned into him. T.K. bent over and kissed his forehead. “We should try and get some sleep.”
Carlos shook his head again. “I can’t,” he said hoarsely. “I just keep thinking about it over and over again. I’m sorry I’m such a mess—“
“Hey, you don’t need to apologize. Everything you’re feeling is totally normal.”
Carlos swallowed hard. “I know it was just a house. But it was mine. It was the first place I felt like I could be myself. And then you came and it was our home and I—“ Carlos bit his lip and shook his head. “It’s all gone.”
“But I’m not,” T.K. said twining their hands together. “I’m right here. You’ve got me. And I don’t care where we are as long as we’re together. Home is us.” He stroked his thumb up and down on Carlos’ shoulder.
His face sobered as he took a really good, long look at Carlos. Exhaustion and fear still radiated off of him. He looked defeated. Empty. “Let’s at least try to get some sleep,” T.K. said softly, brushing a still-damp, curl from Carlos’ forehead. “We’ll figure things out in the morning.”
He pulled Carlos to his feet and they walked hand in hand back to the guest room. Carlos looked at the clock as he got into bed and groaned. “I have a shift in five hours.”
“You’re not going to work today.” T.K. told him. “They’ll understand.”
Carlos slid down the bed onto his side, leaning up on his elbow, his free hand finding a home on T.K.’s hip. “I meant what I said before. You were incredible tonight T.K. You saved us.”
“I’m pretty sure my dad, Billy, and Judd saved us,” T.K. told him.
Carlos shook his head. “I’m serious. If you hadn’t been there—“
“But I was,” T.K. said firmly. “I was and we’re fine. We’re…going to be fine,” he amended, because god knew there was nothing fine about them right now.
Carlos was quiet for a moment and then laid down all the way so they were face to face. T.K. shifted so they were even closer, needing to feel the warmth of Carlos against his own body. “I don’t think I can sleep,” Carlos said.
“Then we’ll just lie here together,” T.K. told him softly.
They locked eyes, both of them breathing together in the silence, just being together, holding on a little tighter than normal. “I can’t stop seeing it,” Carlos finally whispered. “I was so scared T.K. What if I’d lost you?”
“You didn’t,” T.K. said softly. He leaned in and pressed a tender, reassuring kiss to Carlos’ lips. Carlos didn’t respond so T.K. nudged him gently with his nose and then kissed him again.
It was slow at first, Carlos still drowning so deeply in loss and anxiety, but as T.K. continued to silently encourage him he began to reciprocate. First just one kiss, and then another, this one a little deeper, until they were completely pressed up against each other, hands searching for bare skin, shared breath moving between parted lips.
Things grew heated and T.K. could feel the increasing desperation in Carlos’ kisses so he smoothed a hand soothingly down his spine, pulling back from him just a little bit, forcing him to slow down. “It’s okay,” he murmured as their lips broke apart and came back together. “I’m right here.”
Carlos responded by matching T.K.’s slower kisses, following him rather than leading.
T.K. reached between them and slowly undid the drawstring on his boyfriend’s sweatpants. Carlos broke off the kiss. “Are you sure?”
T.K. nodded, moving his hands underneath Carlos’ shirt, helping him pull it off over his head. They both needed this, to touch, to feel, to reassure themselves that they were alive, that this might have changed their night, but it hadn’t change them.
Carlos started to roll on top of him, but T.K. gently pushed him back down until he was the one on top, chests and hips pressed together, a reversal of their positions from just hours before. Carlos’ hands landed on T.K.’s back, their eyes locking, both of them seeking comfort in the physicality of being together.
“We’re okay,” T.K. said, as much for himself as for Carlos.
Carlos nodded and then closed his eyes as T.K. began pressing kisses into his neck and chest. “We’re okay,” T.K. murmured soothingly every time his lips left Carlos’ skin. “I’m going to say it until you believe it. We’re okay. We will be okay together.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
T.K. woke up in the morning legs still tangled with Carlos’. It took him a moment to remember why he had a pounding headache and his muscles felt tight. Right. Burning condo. Smoke inhalation. Mad dash for their lives.
Carlos was still deeply asleep, for which T.K. was grateful. His boyfriend had drifted off in his arms somewhere around three am and T.K. had quickly followed. He managed to extricate himself without waking Carlos and pulled on some clothes before he headed out to the kitchen in search of painkillers.
Sun was just filtering in the windows, the day already bright and clear. It was incredible how the world could continue to turn, even when everything had just crashed down around you. T.K. found some Advil, leaving it out on the counter, knowing it was likely that Carlos would be in need of some too. Then he moved their now clean, damp clothes from the washer to the dryer. They’d need to go out today and get some essentials.
“T.K.?” Mateo asked in surprise as he appeared at the base of the stairs. “I thought you and Carlos made up?” He paused and frowned in confusion. “Is that my shirt?”
T.K. sighed and launched into an edited version of the night’s events. “Dude,” Mateo said when he finished, a stunned look on his face. “Man that sucks. I’m glad you guys are all right.”
“Yeah, us too,” T.K. said.
“And listen, my house just totally blew up too. It was a rental, so not quite the same, but if you guys need help with any part of this process just let me know. You can borrow my car or laptop or whatever you need.”
“Thanks Mateo,” T.K. said gratefully.
There were footsteps on the stairs and Carlos appeared, eyes bleary and swollen, curls a disheveled mess. There was still a heaviness about him, but he looked better than the night before.
“Hey,” he said, wrapping an arm around T.K.’s waist and giving him a kiss, lingering slightly longer than their normal morning peck. “Hi Mateo.”
“Hey Carlos. T.K. told me about your place, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s definitely not ideal,” Carlos said with a sigh.
“Did you sleep okay?” T.K. asked.
Carlos nodded, then winced. T.K. reached for the bottle of Advil and poured him a glass of water. “Thanks,” Carlos said, swallowing down two pills.
“Did you call your captain?” T.K. asked as Mateo grabbed a protein bar and vacated the kitchen to give them some privacy.
“Yeah he’d already heard. Told me to take the time I need.”
“Good,” T.K. said.
The dryer buzzed. “That’s our clothes,” T.K. said, getting up to retrieve them. “At least you can put on a shirt that fits.”
He tossed Carlos his shirt and pants. Carlos stared down at them, a frown on his face. “You okay?” T.K. asked.
“Why did you throw a shirt at me?”
“What?”
“Last night. We were about to be burned alive and you made me put a shirt on.”
“Oh,” T.K. thought for a second and shrugged as he folded his sweatpants and set them on top of the dryer. “I don’t know. I guess I just…panicked. I was thinking that the temperature drops here at night and I didn’t want you to be cold when we got outside.”
“Our condo was hot as hell, but you were worried I’d be cold?”
T.K. bit his lip and shook his head, a sheepish smile growing on his face. “I don’t know, like I said I panicked. It was the first thought that came to me.”
“Well it was a good one,” Carlos said, slipping his arms around T.K.’s waist. “Standing out there all night with no shirt on would have been pretty uncomfortable.”
T.K. threaded his arms through Carlos’, hands coming to rest on his lower back. “You doing okay this morning?” he asked.
“Better,” Carlos confirmed. “Thank you. I think I just…needed to let it all out. I’m sorry about last night. My head was…”
“Hey,” T.K. shook his head. “No more apologies. No one has anything to apologize for, right?” He brushed a hand over Carlos’ cheek. “Do you want coffee? Or a smoothie?” His eyes went wide as a thought hit him. “Oh no!”
“What? What’s wrong?” Carlos asked, concern dropping over his face like a cloud. T.K.’s distress was so sudden and visceral that he pulled back slightly, eyes searching T.K.’s frame for some kind of injury.
T.K. felt his chest growing tight as anxiety gripped him. “Marlon Blendo! Oh my god, my dad is going to be so upset!”
“Whoa.” Carlos cupped his face in his hands. “I’m sure your dad will be okay. Blenders are replaceable.”
“Carlos he really loved that blender,” T.K. said seriously.
Carlos chuckled. “Here I am, wondering all night long how we’re going to get through this and how you can be so calm when the world has literally gone up in flames, and now you’re losing it over a blender.”
“He was a really good blender!” T.K. pulled away from him and ran a hand through his hair as he took a few aimless steps, more thoughts striking him. “Oh my god my hoodies!”
“I will buy you new hoodies,” Carlos assured him.
“They won’t be the same,” T.K. groaned.
“Is this you finally freaking out?”
“I am not freaking out!” T.K.’s breathing had increased rapidly as panic spiraled through him. The sense of calm control he’d felt for the past twelve hours slowly started to slip away as reality set in. “Oh my god I’m totally freaking out. I can’t freak out, you’re freaking out! We can’t both be freaking out!”
“Hey,” Carlos cradled his face in his hand. “We’re okay? Remember? And if you need to freak out and lose it, that’s all right. It’s your turn. I’ll pull it together for a couple hours and you can melt down.”
“I don’t want to melt down, I want my shirt with the blue stripes on it. And that bergamot candle your parents gave us as a housewarming gift. Oh my god, Carlos all your spices from the market!”
“Come here,” Carlos said, pulling him into a hug, one hand holding him firmly around the waist, the other settling on the nape of his neck, thumb moving back and forth in a soothing motion.
T.K. let his forehead rest against Carlos’ shoulder, feeling more grounded by the strength of his boyfriend’s arms and the softness of his fingers. “Thanks,” he mumbled.
T.K. took a breath as the weight of everything began to land on his shoulders. Losing their home. Almost losing each other. God, how was he only now feeling how terrible it all was? He’d truly thought he was okay until this very second. “We’re going to make it through this, right?” he asked. He’d been so sure last night, but now…
Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “Yes. We are.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A/N: When I started writing this, did I think it would end up in the boys having soft, sweet "we're so glad we're not dead"
sex in Owen's guest room? Nope. No I did not. Is it all @bluenet13's fault that it happened? Possibly. Or possibly they're just too sexy and they couldn't help it. Idk.
#911 Lone Star#911 LS#Tarlos#Carlos Reyes#TK Strand#Tarlos Fic#2x12#The Big Heat#Post Ep#Home is Us#Emotional Hurt/Comfort
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WHAT FORTUNE GAVE - Prologue (Vergil x Nero's Mother)
Summary: Turmoil has engulfed the small Island of Fortuna, shaken now more than ever by a never-ending civil war opposing the religious Order of the Sword to a group of rebels named the Guard of Sparda.
As he tries to unveil his father's secret past and achieve some hidden dark purpose, Vergil crosses path with Elissa, a young lady whose thirst for vengeance and blood is as red as the dress she's wearing.
He doesn't want to care and he especially doesn't want to get involved but you don't choose your fate in Fortuna.
That's the story Nero is about to discover.
Tags: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Explicit Sexual Content / Explicit Language / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore / Religion / The Order of The Sword / Civil War / Rebellion / Demons / Action and Adventure / Sparda's past
Author’s note: This is one hell of an ambitious project I put myself into, but I hope you will follow me in this journey which is basically another fan fiction about Vergil and Nero's mother. Probably not the best (I've read some prreeety good ones) but one that should be (hopefully) different from what was previously posted.I worked a lot on this story, made a lot of research and used many artistic references that I catalogued at the end of each chapter for the curious ones among you.
Since English is not my mother tongue, feel free to let me know if there's any grammar mistake or if some sentences don't make any sense.
Anyway, enjoy your reading.
In twenty-five years, Aifric’s Alehouse hadn’t changed even just a tiny bit. Same hefty old furniture. Same mucky walls and filthy floor covered in layers of dry alcohol that stick your shoes to the wooden slats each time you take a step. Same lamentable drunkards in search of more alcohol to drown their sorrows in, their arms around women that would pretend to adore them for a night in exchange for a bit of money. And, now that Vergil dared breathe a little, same foul stench of humidity, staleness and sweat, typical of this kind of underground bars from the no-go areas of the Castle Town of Fortuna. And the music … Don’t let him think about the music.
Never thought he would come back here one day.
His firm gloved hand grabbed the backrest of a wobbly stool that scratched the old wooden floor with an unpleasant creak as he pulled it to sit on it, revealing his presence to the brown-skinned man sipping his beer in silence next to him, his defeated pockmarked face hidden under a thick dirty white cloak that hadn’t been washed in probably years and that had lost almost all its glorious golden embroideries.
Vergil eyed at him for a second, the same way the Moor had eyed at him when, more than two decades ago, he had sit on this very same stool, his then young frame hidden under a cloak similar to his and yet less odorous, a young wanderer looking for stories and answers. Strange how things seems to move in circle.
“You’re too late. You know that?” The man’s voice was thickly and hoarse, due to the long years of alcohol abuse and contempt towards the world, towards that silver-haired ghost back from a distant past but especially towards himself. “Twenty-five fucking years too late to be more precise.” He got no answer to that reproach, not a word, just a nod and a pregnant silence that made him scoff. But his laugh, once so hearty and alive, held today nothing but melancholy and despise. “But at least she was right. You did come back.”
Vergil peeped at the man again from the corner of his icy blue eyes, longer this time, but still with that eternal impassibility he was known for, hiding his slight surprise and his judgemental thoughts he knew deep down he shouldn’t have. But the barfly next to him was nothing like the man he had met years ago. This man was just the broken shadow of the one everyone in Fortuna once called Adel the Honourable¹ , Captain of the Guard of Sparda.
“What the fuck are you doing here … Vergil?” He spat on his name, literally, not caring about what the solemn Son of Sparda would think of him, would do to him. He spat to show him his disgust, his hatred, even though he knew that a bit of saliva wasn’t enough to show the extent of his feelings.
“Where is she?” Vergil asked with a calm voice that made Adel grimace (that voice was as nasally and annoying as he remembered) and finally glare at him, allowing Vergil to see how the years and the pain had marked and scared his once-handsome face. “You got some nerve to ask that now.”
“ I need to see her.”Adel firmly hit the counter with his empty glass before turning around to stare at Vergil, giving him a long disdainful look he thought he could only give himself. “Sure, I’ll bring you to her. But you might want to give me that damn sword of yours so that I shove it deep in your stone-cold heart first.” Vergil smirked. This was way too reminiscent of old foolish squabbles he once found very amusing … though quite pathetic and most of the time one-sided.
“Why don’t you use that crossbow² of yours instead?” The taunt wasn’t meant to defy him if one could read through Vergil’s phlegmatic voice. But the Moor³ interpreted it that way and yet refused to react to it, knowing how vain it would be.
“I don’t have it anymore.” Adel opened his cloak to reveal a leather sling with no weapon attached to it. “I don’t have anything anymore. And we know full well that it wouldn’t have done shit to you.”
“Trust me, Adel. I know what it’s like to lose everything.” Was it an attempt at sounding
sympathetic? Probably. After all, Vergil still felt somewhat confused by the occasional waves of humanity surging up from inside of him.
“Do you?” He laughed with bitterness, not believing him for one second. “Bullshit! And you know why? Cause you never had anything!”
If Vergil took this as a personal attack he didn’t let his body show it, but he nevertheless let out one simple sentence, a boast he knew would displease the brown-skinned man, a display of his pride and superiority he always thought he had over that mere human. “I had her.”
Quite expectedly, Adel jumped from his stool and before falling back against the bar, tried to grab Vergil by his blue collar. But it looked too pathetic and clumsy to be considered menacing or dangerous. “Fucking stop talking about her!” He pointed his finger at him in defiance while tears formed in his dull black eyes that had long lost their charming spark. “She fucking loved you! She loved you so damn much and you never cared, not a damn second. So don’t come to me with all your ceremony and shit, pretending you care now?” He sobbed loudly and wiped his eyes with his fists, a gesture that only made Vergil frown. How low had that man sunk! And how wrong he was.
“Nero needs to know.” The silver-haired man finally said, not very willing to continue this conversation due to a growing lack of patience. “He needs to know about his mother.”There was a new brief silence that could only be filled with glasses clinking, noisy hubbub and prostitutes giggles. Both men gauged each other, wondering who should talk first and what to say after the name of the boy the woman they both loved had given birth to was brought into the discussion.
“So you finally know.” The Moor finally said as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “How does it feel?” Vergil didn’t want to talk about his feelings, especially not with a man he hadn’t seen in years and that would be too eager to judge him. His feelings were his to ponder and only his.
“My feelings are none of your concern.” The brevity of Vergil’s sentences was annoying to Adel who had almost forgotten how it was to have a conversation with the stoic Son of Sparda. And when some people would call it introversion he would call it self-importance, despicable self-importance.
“Do you ever think of her?”
New intended silence. But yes, there were times when Vergil did think of her because that’s what happens when someone as special as her shares even just a tiny bit of his life. He thought of her when he was at his best and when he was at his lowest. And he had been thinking of her even more lately, each time he would look at Nero or think of him, each time he would remember his journey in Fortuna. She was a part of his past he would never be able to cast away. But again, none of Adel’s business. “Look, you don’t need to talk to me about her. Just tell Nero. I bet you know how to find him.”Glad to finally leave, Vergil stood up and dusted his long dark coat he felt had been soiled by such a dirty place. But right after he turned around to walk away, his old acquaintance spoke again with disarming heartfelt honesty. “It feels like hell to me.” Vergil stopped and slightly looked back at him from the corner of his eyes, at his defeated look staring deep in his empty glass again. “Like fucking hell actually. Seeing that kid of yours growing up to be just like her but at the same time just like you right under my nose. That smug smirk he got from you on the lips he inherited from her. Everything about that child makes me want to vomit or plug my eyes out because that makes me realise all I lost, all I could have had if you had never stepped a foot in Fortuna. You took her away from me, away from everyone, and when you finally got out from my life, you dared leave behind you a living reminder of your victory over me to torture me for the rest of my miserable days.” Vergil stood still, withstanding the man’s rancour without batting an eyelash.
“The fact you considered her love a victory maybe is the reason why you
never had her.” Vergil replied and before pushing the double-leaf door of the bar, waited for an instant as if he was expecting something to come in, but Adel was stubborn and not keen on accepting defeat. “You took her away from your son!” He shouted and smiled when Vergil froze again on his way out.
“ If that’s true, go tell him that then.”
***
Nico was pissed. Nero could tell it by the way she was furiously trying to fix the neon blue sign of their van. But what could he do about it? It wasn’t his fault if a starving empusa had decided to snack on the E while Nico was parked waiting for her friend to come back from his demon ass kicking routine. “D vil May Cry” Nero read out loud with a pout. “I don’t know, Nico. Works for me.” And yet, he had a feeling being angry because of a damn light was just a pretext to let out some pent up frustration due to god knew what.
“Really? Is that how you gonna treat your family heritage now?” The black-haired woman harrumphed, threatening to hit her friend with a monkey wrench. “Is that how you gonna treat my precious Minotaurus after all he did for ya? After he followed you right into that hellish ficus?”
“Qliphoth.” He corrected with a smile.
“Yeah whatever.” Nero had a brief laugh but eventually shrugged, not seeing the problem as he read the neon sign on the van again. “The E doesn’t light up anymore. So what? We still know it’s Devil May Cry.”
“When your deadbeat dad tore your arm out from its socket, didn’t I give ya a new one?”
Nero grumbled, not finding the comparison funny or admissible. “That’s not the same! You can’t compare my arm to a damn neon letter. I needed my arm!”
“And Devil May Cry needs its E! So stop complainin’ and pass me the stillson.” She ordered as she kept on adjusting the colourful wires hidden in the dented bodywork of the van. Nero sighed but handed her the tool anyway. “I thought you were tired of being my pet mechanic.”
“ I am but like I said, I can’t let you treat my baby like that.”
And then, he dared say it. “Seriously. I thought you would be busy reading those new files you found in your father’s old stuff? You didn’t say anything about what they were.” And, as Nico dropped the wrench on the hood, he immediately knew he maybe shouldn’t have asked that.
“Cause they were not interesting. Just pieces of diaries he wrote when he was young, explainin’ how he started working for the Order and why he didn’t want me or my mother in his life anymore.” Nero frowned, not believing Nico for an instant. Her sentence didn’t make any sense to him cause he was sure any child who had grown up without a parent would be even just a tiny bit interested in knowing who they were or what they did.
He knew he was.
God! What he would give to know even a just of small piece of information about his mother, about who she was, how she looked like. But unfortunately for him, the only person who had all the answers to his questions was never prompt to give them, acting more like a vault than a chatterbox. “And that doesn’t interest you? Raaah come on, Nico!” He clicked his tongue.
“I’m interested in his work. Nothing else. I couldn’t care less about his adventure with that other chick which is FYI apparently one of the reason why that asshole left my mother and me.”
“ You father left your mother for someone else?” Nico glared at Nero, catching a judgment in his voice that never was there.
“ Well I least I know why my father left my mother… No, actually, I know my mum, period.” Nero hadn’t heard that kind of words in years but the burn was as painful as he remembered. How many times he had heard the kids in Fortuna disrespecting him, disrespecting his mother, claiming she was a prostitute⁴ from the ill repute places of Fortuna. How many horrors he had to listen to. And how many punches he had received, and given, because of them. “Damn! I’m sorry, Nero. I didn’t mean.” Nico declared, horrified by her unusual behaviour and by the sudden sadness Nero tried to conceal in his blue eyes.
“Forget it. I’m used to it.” He gestured her to let go and went rummaging in the toolbox for no particular reason but to occupy his mind with something else. But Nico wasn’t willing to end their conversation like that, the feeling of guilt eating at her. “I’m sure your mother was someone fantastic, Nero.” She had a soft comforting smile.
“I mean, she had to be, you know … to stand your father.”
Nero chuckled but there was still that hint of misery, that very particular misery he only felt when thinking of his mother. A mix of bitterness, void and love. “Maybe she never really had to stand him. Maybe she was … a prostitute like everybody said.” Nico frowned; refusing to believe Nero would go for such bullshit. Didn’t he know how close-minded and rumour-hungry the people in Fortuna were?
“Nah, I don’t think so.” She declared as she funnily wrinkled her nose. “No money in the world would be enough to accept to spend a night with your dad. Your mother had to veeeery nice and patient and ooooh so in love with him.” Nero spared a glance at Nico, deeply moved by her attempt at comforting him and hoping she was right. “Damn, I beg that poor woman was a saint, ‘cause Vergil might look yummy to most people’s standards but he ain’t fun.” Her lips pinched together, she had a sort of deep serious frown that wrinkled her entire forehead, a somewhat amusing grimace Nero was sure was meant to emulate his father characteristic impenetrability. She kinda nailed it but …
“ Did you just say my father looks yummy?” Nero asked, quite disgusted. A crush on Lady, that he could get, but on his father … It made him shiver and want to throw up.
“Huh, to most people standards!” She repeating, clapping her hands between each syllables. “I’m not most people.” Nero’s eyes widened when he heard familiar slow and steady footsteps coming from behind the door of the garage. “I mean, do you really think I could feel even just a tiny bit attracted to ‘Power! I need more power!’?” She imitated with a cavernous voice and Nero tried not to laugh. But it wasn’t Nico’s new impersonation of Vergil that was making him want to do so. It was actually his father standing on top of the stairs, stoic and still like a marble statue staring impassibly at Nico making a fool of him. Maybe he should warn her of his presence. Yes, maybe he should.
He timidly pointed at his father standing right behind her; still unsure he wanted this scene to stop. But he couldn’t wait to see Nico’s face when she would notice Vergil. And oh god, how priceless it was.
Nico was an intrepid, loud and lovely person but when her dark eyes took a small glance of Vergil, she froze and cleared her throat, definitely uncomfortable and … yeah a tiny bit scared. “But it has its charm. You’ve got some charm. That’s undeniable.” She rectified, looking at Vergil who eventually nodded, a faint smile on his face that meant more ‘yeah right’ than ‘how funny’ in Vergil language. He didn’t find this funny at all.
“Good evening to you too, Nicoletta. Nero.” He nodded once again, casting his aura of solemnity all over the garage.
“Nico. Just Nico … nevermind.” Nico mumbled in a whisper that Vergil heard but chose to ignore. Nicknames were not his thing… They had never been his thing.He went down the stairs, his hand resting on the hilt of his precious Yamato as always and looked at the van with a new frown. “You two are busy working on some repairs, perhaps.” He asked in an effort to be as familial as possible, something that wasn’t his forte at all. It made the two friends exchange a curious glance.
“ Yes … I mean, no, we were done.” Nero replied, wondering what his father was doing here. After all, unexpected visits were not in Vergil’s habits.
“ No, we were not. Gotta fix that E, remember?” Nico tapped at the letter with insistence.
“ That again?” The young man sighed. “Is Dante here?” That could explain Vergil’s presence in Fortuna. But as 90% of the time – or more – the Son of Sparda evicted an answer, changing the subject – or ignoring it – with a destabilizing yet infuriating indifference.
“ Miss Goldstein is right, a E is important.” He spoke, his icy blue eyes looking towards a distant past, towards memories he held in his heart he was rediscovering more and more with each day spent with his family, with his son.
“ Thank you! See, I told you!” Nico
shouted, proud to be right.
“ What are you doing here?” Nero finally questioned, impatient to finally know the truth behind his father’s presence. “I was in Fortuna visiting an old acquaintance.” Vergil weighed his words with smoothness as he paced in the garage looking at his surroundings without no real interest in them.
“ You … got acquaintances?” The slight frown of disbelief on Nero’s face made him suddenly look so much like his father but Vergil didn’t notice, too busy staring at the extinguished E that looked so dull surrounded by such neon blue lights when it should have shone as brightly as them if not more. “Hopefully, he should visit you soon.”
“ Wait! What? Why?” Nero always saw his father as an impenetrable mystery, even when he was just V, but right now he couldn’t tolerate him being so evasive.
“To give you the answers you want.” And he couldn’t not tolerate him being a stolid piece of shit either. “About my mother?” Or a mute one. But with Vergil, silence often meant a lot. “Hey! You can’t just leave me like that!” Nero caught his father’s right arm with a violent strength, a vision that stirred a new one, an old one, one Vergil regretted. “Plus, why would you send a stranger in my house to talk to me about my mother? Why don’t you do it yourself?” God! If she knew what he had done to their son. What would she say? What would she do? “Silence. I thought so. You don’t even have the courage to tell me her name so why should I expect more from you.” In his lifetime, only a few persons had been able to defeat Vergil, one of them being his son. So, after looking down at his boots for a second, he walked away, not keen on riling up Nero even more, not today.“Elissa.⁵” The name, left unpronounced for so many years, burnt Vergil's tongue when each blazing letter, probably angry to have been reduced to dormant embers for so long, managed to escape the barrier of his tight lips. But Vergil welcomed this fiery pain without blinking and even dared say it again, embracing the ignition once more with a soft melancholic smile. He was part demon. Fire couldn't hurt him. So why being afraid of it? “Your mother’s name was Elissa.” Plus there was no danger in saying her name, just liberation. It was a beautiful name, after all. And for a second, he felt like his young self again. “Now fix it, would you?”
That E meant a lot to Vergil.
REFERENCES:
¹ Adel The Honourable: Adel is a Persian name derived from the Arabic عَدَلَ meaning "to act justly". I added the title "the Honourable" to reinforce the idea his character was made to be fair, honest and just. Adel also belongs to the House of Montefeltro, a name you will discover later.
² crossbow: I intended to give Adel a simple bow as it is the weapon of righteousness (ndlr: Robin Hood) but then I chose to give him a crossbow because I thought the addition of the word "cross" was giving a religious connotation that suited his character. The fact that he lost the weapon is of course meaningful.
³ The Moor: reference to Shakespeare's Othello.
⁴ claiming she was a prostitute: This idea of Nero's mother being a prostitute was directly taken from Devil May Cry: Deadly Fortune. In the novel, we learn that Nero was often bullied by the other kids claiming his mother was a whore.
⁵ Elissa: Elissa is the other name that was given to Dido, first queen of Carthage and lover of the demi-god Aeneas, in Virgil's Aeneid.
Her name is composed of the Punic reflex of "El-" meaning "god", and "‐issa" that means "fire", hence why her name burns Vergil's lips when he says it. Her name carrying the word "fire" also echoes the red colour of her dress and her hair as well as her affiliation to the House of Minos you will read about later. In a nutshell, this girl is on fire! ;-)
#devil may cry#devil may cry fanfiction#vergil#nero's mother#vergil x nero's mother#vergil fanfiction
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FALLOUT |LH| TWO
gif not mine
PAIRING: donghyuck x reader bodyguard!donghyuck
WARNINGS: mentions of yuta. swearing, blood (i’ll let you know when there are parts with blood mentions), smut (let you know), violence, angst
WORD COUNT: 2,9K
ONE TWO THREE
It had been a week since Donghyuck was working as your personal bodyguard and things were apparently going well. The threats had stopped, but they didn't want to let their guard down in case something happened.
Donghyuck and you had got a little closer since they used to spend quite a lot of time together. One night, you left the office at one o'clock in the morning and after Donghyuck insisted you eat something, you ended up eating at a stall in a street in downtown Seoul.
You took the opportunity to get to know each other a little bit better and Donghyuck told you that he wanted to be a music producer and went to music school, but his father never approved it and had to devote himself to what he did.
On the other hand, you shared that you never thought of becoming a CEO. You always pictured yourself a baker and having a small bakery, but somehow you weren't a great baker. He found it very interesting how the tables turned.
On Wednesday, Donghyuck arrived earlier than normal and you extended your hand and shook his, greeting him, pleased to note how firm and strong his handshake was. Why did a handshake suddenly seem so much more evocative? You had shaken hundreds, thousands, of men’s hands and none, not even your ex-partners, had a touch that brought shivers to your spine like that.
Maybe that day wouldn’t be so bad after all. You thought.
You had been told that one of your negotiations had been called off and they notified you right after you arrived at their building. What a waste of time.
“Ma’am, I was wondering if we could discuss you using the underground entrance from now on?” Donghyuck inquired.
No, it was still a bad morning. With one question, the attractive bodyguard brought on you wrath and was anything but attractive to you anymore. How many times have you instructed the driver and the staff that you were going to continue to enter the Genesis Intelligence Headquarters.
And how many times did you need to remind Donghyuck to call you (Y/N), not “Ma’am“?
“I’m late for a meeting,” you snapped. You turned on your shoes and started towards the building.
As irritated as you were, you were still aware of the presence of the well-built Donghyuck a few steps behind you and caught a glimpse of him in the window’s reflection as you entered the building. Hmmm, you sighed. «Even if he does annoy me, he is still lovely to look at.»
In your irritation and your attempt to get back on schedule, you lost sight of Donghyuck for the next ninety minutes. The 9:30 meeting to which you were late did not go well. Again.
As you exited the meeting to take his 10:00 call, Lia approached you. “I’ve confirmed your slot with Lee Youngjoon for tomorrow, but Nakamoto Yuta wants to see you at 10:45 this morning, instead of 11:30. He insisted.”
You frowned. Yuta? You hadn't heard or seen him in a year and suddenly he wanted a meeting with you?
You glanced at your watch. It was just shy of 10:00. If you were lucky, you could take your call and still make it to 10:45.
“Why?” You demanded.
“I don’t know, but he was very persistent.” Lia came to the response.
“Fine. Make sure to update security on the change in plans,” You instructed Lia. “Thanks, Lia.”
Fifteen minutes later, while in the middle of your 10:00 call, Donghyuck knocked on her door. Oh right, him. He entered your office without waiting for your response. You glared at him as you put your call on hold.
“Ma’am, we need to be leaving for your meeting if you want to make it on time.”
“I’m afraid you have the time wrong. We have another fifteen minutes and I need to finish this call.”
“No, ma’am. We need to take an alternate route. If we don’t leave now, you’ll be late.”
You continued glaring at Donghyuck. “Why? What’s wrong with our regular route? I could walk there faster than what you’re proposing.”
“I don’t doubt that ma’am, but I would advise against it. It’s all for your safety, ma’am.”
It seemed unlikely that you would win on this one. You ended your call, gathered your things, and followed Donghyuck to the elevators, where he selected the basement level rather than the ground floor. You shook your head and sighed. Once the elevator stopped, Donghycuk led you through to the underground entrance, where your car was waiting.
“Donghyuck, this will be the first and only time you have me use the underground entrance, do you understand?“ Your tone was scathing.
Donghyuck nodded in silence and as he held open the car door for you, your hand accidentally brushed against his and you couldn’t help but catch a whiff of his cologne. You froze. For three seconds, the world stopped. You were distracted by how attractive Donghyuck was. You almost didn’t want to move. You wanted to be as close to him as possible, for as long as possible.
Your reverie was broken by the sound of a car horn somewhere else in the garage. You felt a rush of heat flood to your cheeks. You slid down into his seat as Donghyuck closed the car door, hoping that he hadn’t noticed any of this. That behaviour, those reactions, were completely out of character. Even after the car started moving, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.
…
“You look as beautiful as usual, sweetheart,” Yuta greeted you planting a kiss on your cheek.
“It’s nice to see you, too,” you told him.
Yuta clicked his tongue, not sure what if he had done something wrong. “Come.” With that, you walked into his office,, leaving the door open. Donghyuck gave you a look and stood right in the door, turning his back on you.
“Since when do you have a dog following you around?” Yuta raised an eyebrow, sitting on his chair, eyeing Donghyuck. “I think I’ve seen him before.”
“He’s my bodyguard, not my dog,” you corrected him and sat in front of him. “And why don't you ask him?
Yuta shook his head. “Maybe he was someone else’s dog before you.”
You rolled your eyes. “Why did you want to see me?”
“Because I missed you.”
“Cut the crap.”
Yuta giggled. “You’re really having a bad day, huh? What happened?”
You sighed and relaxed on the chair. “The guy from Hong Kong called off the negotiation this morning and I was counting with that money for the new software we were going to launch next year. And he fucking called me right when I was outside the building!”
“I warned you about him, sweetie.”
“That’s the last thing I need right now, Yuta,” you glanced at him.
“I know, I’m sorry,” he nodded. “What if I invest in it?”
“You?” You looked at him. “Why would you do that? We’re literally direct competition.”
“We could launch it together. Right now your A.I is one of the best in the market, and I’m not gonna lie: I’m a bit jealous,” he admitted. “You combine tasks such as teaching self-driving cars to avoid accidents, assessing damage of a natural disaster, and detecting parking lot usage. This is all done through drone and satellite imagery.”
“Who in hell would've come up with that?” Yuta looked at you. “I can help you penetrate the Japanese market and get even bigger.”
You bite your lip. It’s true, during the last year you did everything to crack the Japanese market but failed and since Yuta’s company was a large and established company there, he could help you.
“You are really willing to negotiate with me?” You asked him.
He nodded. “I’ve known you for many years and I have followed your work. I’m pretty sure Genesis Intelligence could take over Industrial artificial intelligence.”
You stayed quiet for a couple of seconds and stood up walking around his office. “I need to think about it. You’re my friend and I don’t want business to screw things up.”
Yuta laughed and stood next to you placing a hand on your shoulder. “If sex didn’t screw things up neither will this.”
“Oh my, God. Shut up,” you hissed, looking to where Donghyuck was standing. He didn't even seem to move. You looked back at Yuta. “I’m gonna leave.”
Yuta chuckled and caressed your shoulders. “Stay, it’s been so long since we saw each other.”
You squint your eyes looking at him. “I’m not gonna fuck with you in your office.”
“I never said anything about fucking, but if you want me to bend you over my d-” You placed a hand on his mouth to stop him from talking and sighed.
“I’ll tell my assistant to call you so we can arrange a meeting soon with the rest of the staff,” you told him and grabbed your purse.
“I’m looking forward,” he smirked.
You nodded and started making your way out of the office when he called you. “(Y/N)?”
You turned around. “Yes?”
“Your ass looks incredibly hot today in those dress pants,” he smiled at you.
“Good afternoon, Yuta,” you said leaving his office.
Donghyuck started walking behind you, escorting you and didn’t understand why the comments Yuta made got him upset. Was he your boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend, perhaps? Your lover?
Why did he even care? It wasn't as if he was interested in you. He had a task he must comply with. Just another job. That's what this was supposed to be. He had done it dozens of times, killed someone for money, that is. He'd earned a reputation among others in his trade for being discreet, efficient, and the ability to make it look like an accident. He quite enjoyed it, too. It was an outlet for his creativity and frustration and he had a lot to be frustrated about.
You two were sharing the enclosed, confined space of a gaudy elevator. The metal around you was pristine, without a single smudge to be seen. Directly behind you, it seemed a ceiling to floor mirror was installed over the wall of the elevator... For what reason, Donghyuck sure. He wasn't much of an aestheticist anyway, prefered things to be plain or simple in design.
There was an awkward silence and you cursed Yuta’s building which had 25 floors. The ride was long.
“So… Mr. Nakamoto and you?” Donghyuck broke the silence. You looked at him, frowning. “Right, sorry. It’s none of my business.”
You scratched your forehead and then snickered leaning against the metal wall. “I’m guessing you heard our conversation. Sorry about that.”
“No, please. I apologise. Again, it’s none of my business, ma’am.”
“Yuta and I used to… be really good friends,” you looked at him. “That’s in the past, and it’s even more buried now that we’re gonna be partners. It wouldn't be ethical.”
Donghyuck nodded. “Got it, ma’am.”
You huffed and rolled your eyes. “You need to stop calling me ‘ma’am. I feel like a 50 year old woman.”
“Sorry ma’am, but you don't look anything like a 50 year old woman,” Dongyuck glanced at you.
Your overactive imagination can’t help but bring that off-handed comment to life inside your head. You smiled. "Thank you. So, will you stop calling me that?"
"No."
You sighed. "Please?"
Donghyuck laughed lightly. “You worry too much about that.”
“Yes,” You didn't deny it. “It's strange. You're only 2 years older than me and are ma'aming me everyday.”
Donghyuck smirked at the word you used. “You’re my boss. I’m just being professional.”
Your mouth opened to speak, but the elevator suddenly shook, the lights flicker, and you stumbled. Donghyuck reacted without hesitation, sidestepping to make sure that you fall into his chest instead of to your knees. The emergency light of the elevator turned on, and you two shared a glance at each other.
“Did it break?” A stupid question, you're sure.
Donghyuck hummed, stepping away from you and towards the elevator door before banging a fist against it. He checked the elevator buttons, then leaned back to glance up at the dial above the door - you're stuck between the sixth and fifth floor. Donghyuck pulled out his cellphone and groaned. "I have no signal."
You breathed a couple of times and looked at him. "Am I under attack? Am I gonna get killed here? Did someone plan this?!"
"Hey, hey," Donghyuck cupped your face with his hands and stared at you. "It's just a shut down. You're okay, nothing will happen to you as long as you're with me."
You nodded and closed your eyes trying to relax. Donghyuck's hands around your face felt like heaven; they were warm and soft. You opened your eyes again just to see a Donghyuck still staring at you. You could drown in that look. "Better?"
"Yeah, thank you," you whispered.
Donghyuck let go of your face and you hated the feeling of emptiness he left.
The bright lights flickered on and made you squint. You clapped your hands together cheerfully, turning to look at the dial over the door that begins to move again. “Oh, thank God!"
“Told you,” Donghyuck smiled at you. “Shall we?”
“Yeah.”
…
Your hands moved from his shoulders to the top button of his shirt. As you slowly unfastened button after button, your piercing eyes met his. Donghyuck thought he might come just from the intensity of your look and the feel of your fingers opening up his shirt. Donghyuck’s fingers grazed across your stomach and you shivered. Your hands moved around to Donghyuck's back, underneath his shirt. You pulled him closer to you, but not close enough that your lower halves touched. In fact, it appeared that he intentionally stopped their lower halves from touching. In one quick movement, you had Donghyuck shirtless. He barely registered when you started kissing his neck and then his chest with soft kisses. When your hands reached the top of his pants, you slipped them between the fabric and his skin. Grabbing the top of your ass, he finally pulled his lower half in contact with your lower half...
BEEP BEEP BEEP
Donghyuck awoke with a start. His breath erratic, his heart racing. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was and what was happening. Donghyuck looked around his room, around his bed. Both were empty, as always. It was a dream. Just a dream. You weren’t there.
He groaned when realised someone had woken up very ‘pleased’ that morning. Donghyuck ran a hand through his hair and got out of bed walking to the bathroom and taking care of his ‘problem’ and getting ready to go to work.
And that same night, you sat in the venue dressing room where you were about to make a speech, reviewing your notes. Donghyuck stood silent and still by the hallway door.
Lia entered the room, carrying several cups of coffee and a bag of food. It was about damn time. You had requested the coffee as soon as you got there; what had taken her so long? You had less than ten minutes to down the cup of decaf.
After having two sips of coffee, the venue manager called you so you could wait backstage since you would be on it in 5 minutes.
As the presenter made his little speech, you tried to crack your fingers for the third time in the day. You were nervous and Donghyuck noticed it. “If you keep trying to do that you’re gonna end up with no bones to crack for the rest of your life.”
“Huh?” You looked at him and then giggled. “Sorry, it’s just that… I’m nervous.”
“I never thought you were the nervous type when it came to speeches,” he said.
“It’s not about giving the speech, it's about who is here,” you sighed.
“And that is?” Donghyuck raised both eyebrows.
“My father.” You admitted.
“He 's here?”
You nodded and your eyes went to the crowd looking for him until you spotted him. “Do you see the man with the grey suit and a black tie, surrounded by 4 guards?”
Donghyuck’s eyes slyly followed yours and found the man you were talking about. He knew him from somewhere. He squinted to have a better look of his face and froze when he recognised. There was no way.
“... he technically is my father, but left my mom when I was a newborn and never came back. And 3 years ago he contacted me telling me he’s interested in my business but I have no plans to sell it or make a partnership by any means…”
Donghyuck was aware you were talking to him but he couldn’t stop looking at the man, or your father. Why would he want you dead? So he could take over your business? That was evil.
“Right?” You looked at him and shook your hand in front of him. “Donghyuck? Are you alright?”
“Yeah… yeah,” he shook his head and gave you a warm smile. “I was just… shocked to know he’s your father.”
“He’s a businessman with relations pretty much everywhere,” you said, “he’s so judgmental of my work but hasn’t even bothered to get to know me better. I guess he’s a natural dick.”
“He is… I mean, you’re great. He should feel lucky to have you, but he doesn’t appreciate that.” He looked at you. “You turned out great without him.”
“That’s what my mom says,” you beamed. “I should relax, what can he do to ruin me? Nothing.”
He gulped. Little did you know.
#donghyuck x reader#donghyuck imagine#donghyuck smut#haechan imagines#haechan x reader#haechan smut#nct x reader#nct haechan#nct dream
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Pairing: Chan x Reader
Genre: Angst/fluff/smut
Word count: 2153
Warnings: 18+ smut & cursing & fainting
Authors note: shit goes down in this chapter so eeeeeekkkk
You’re too hard to forget.
It’s been one week without any dreams. I have moments where my eyes are closed and I see flashes of images that look like various hospital rooms. But none of them have Chan. I told Jasey what had happened, I think. Honestly my body felt numb and my head was ringing so I don’t know what exactly I said, but I said enough that she would leave me alone, because I don’t want to think about it.
Unfortunately, it’s all I can think about.
It’s Monday morning again. I walk into school and plaster a smile on my face, knowing that I can take off in just six hours. I can do that, right? Yes, I think. I walk over to Jasey as usual, but stop when I see a familiar face. It’s the boy who I saw outside the coffee shop a couple weeks ago. He seems to recognize me too, because he stares at me with wide eyes. “Uhhh,” I say when I look at him, and thankfully Jasey doesn’t seem to notice and interrupts me. “Y/n! You’re here! This is Minho,” she says, and I can see the blush spread across her cheeks. This is her secret. And apparently, mine too. “I’m Y/n,” I say to him, though I’m looking at my shoes. He hesitates, but introduces himself in a similar way. I silently thank him for not saying anything like, ‘I know you’, or, ‘wait you’re the weirdo who’s friends with my girlfriend?’ We shake hands. He smiles. I smile. And then I turn on my heels, because suddenly I feel dizzy and I’m having flashbacks and if I don’t run, my feet might stay grounded forever, in a state of confusion and shock. “Y/n!” Jasey yells after me, but I keep walking, because I don’t know what else to say. I hear a few whispers behind me, and then I feel a hand gently pulling my arm, stopping my escape plan. I don’t want to turn around in fear of explaining myself to Jasey, but this is worse. The person with a grip on my arm is Minho. I see Jasey on the other side of the courtyard, and she knows something because she’s staying put. Does she know what I told him? Does he even know the depth of what I told him? Right now I don’t care. Because no matter what I told them or told myself, the dreams are gone.
Minho lets go of my arm, but I know he wants to know what’s going on. I speak first. “Sorry, I’m running late and I have English and I’m happy for you and Jasey so anyways I’m gonna get going…” I said. “Y/n, yeah?” he says. I nod, and turn away but he reaches for my arm again. “Wait, I want to talk to you for a minute!” he nods over to a bench, inviting me to sit down. But before I can think, my head is spinning and Minho is there and Jasey is rushing over and there I am. I’m shaking, for reasons I don’t know, and there are so many voices yelling at me from reality as well as from my very own mind. My head hits the concrete, and I pass out.
“I’m okay love.” Chan is in a hospital bed. His hair lies flat, and his skin pale. But he still looks like Chan. My Chan. His eyes shine looking up at me, and his lips form into a smile. I hug him. “Why haven’t I been able to see you?” I ask. It’s been days of waiting, hoping, and wondering if he was okay. They wouldn’t let me in, but I knew I could’ve if he wanted me to. “Why didn’t you let me see you?” I asked as my eyes filled with familiar tears. “Because even though I was hurt, I knew that if you saw me it would hurt you too. And seeing you hurt causes me more pain than anything physical ever could.” I thought about his words, but only for a moment. Because the next thing I know, I’m consumed in a kiss that made my heart stop. I missed him. But he’s okay. It’s us against the world, and I knew nothing would change that. We were back. Chan was going to be okay, and so was I.
I woke up in the nurse’s office. I’ve only been here a few times, usually when I faked a cough to get out of class or when I get migraines. This time though it felt like I was in the middle of some depressing party, held just for me. To my right, Jasey and Minho are standing over me, talking in worried tones. About what, I don’t know. To my left, I see my mom, and that’s when I think this is serious. Then again, She was probably just obligated to be called because of the school phone call I’m sure she received. As if I had pushed some sort of button, the all look at me at the exact same time. Well, I think. This is awkward. Mrs. Amy, our school nurse, is the first to speak. “Y/n, can you hear me? You hit your head pretty hard. Do you want some water?” I shake my head. I don’t want water. I want to go back to bed. Because even though my head is actually pounding, and I’m still a bit nauseous, none of it matters right now. Chan is back. Why now? I look at Minho. He looks at me. When I shook his hand, something felt so familiar. Like he was connected somehow, but no matter. “Thank you.” I say, and I’m smiling like an idiot. He looks at me confused, but I get up and I walk out of the crowded office. And I’m running, because I have so much to do but I have only one place to go right now. I’m going to the coffee shop, and I’m not going to be scared to go in this time. It could be the beginning of the rest of my life if I would just take the extra three steps.
Minho’s P.O.V.
“Minho, I’m so confused right now,” Jasey says to me. “We literally just watched Y/n pass out hard, and then run away like she got a shot of adrenaline.” It was about 9 a.m.now, so I was very late to school. I decided to just skip today in general. This was far more interesting than world history. “I don’t know, Jae. I don’t even know her,” I say. Y/n and I hadn’t even really met that day at the coffee shop. Is this about what she said to me then? I barely remember. I just remember trying to comfort someone who looked a bit shaken up. I never thought she might be broken completely. Maybe this has something to do with that Chan kid? Maybe a breakup, who knows. I love Jasey, but do I have to deal with her friend now? It’s bad enough that Chris is already going through some breakup with a girl he won’t tell me about, and he’s slept at my house every night this week. We play music and he reads and I like that he makes me pizza (that boy can fucking cook, even if it’s just simple things), but I don’t know Y/n. I can’t handle this too. “You should talk to her,” I say to Jasey. “She’s just going through something right now,” she says back, and looks down at her shoes. I think. And then I have a stupid brilliant idea, that could help both me and Jae. We were both so caught up with our friends that we never got much time together. “You know,” I say. “If she’s going through a breakup, I may have an idea. Or even not a breakup, but just rough shit. I know it’s hard and stuff, but I think she should talk to one of my friends. Actually, I think they’d get along really well. They could keep each other company.” I mean, Chris and Y/n. I think they’d be cute. “Calum, that’s never going to happen. I’m sorry baby, but Y/n is taken. I mean, sorta.” She’s laughing, like what I said, it was the dumbest idea in the world. Ouch. “She’ll be okay. I’ll talk to her later,” she says. Oh well. Was worth a shot, if not for Y/n, for Chris at least. I apply her last words to him as well. He’ll be okay. Everything will be fine.
Y/n’s P.O.V.
I’m scared again. Five minutes ago, I told myself to take a deep breath and just walk in. That was after the twenty minutes of standing there, pretending to be on my phone and thinking. I did this so nobody would ask me what’s wrong, like Minho did. Big mistake. But now I’m here and I’m scared. Thinking about Chan always made me feel dizzy because I didn't know what was real and what was a dream. It felt like it had all just become one big blur, dragging myself to and from school, skipping my way to meet Chan and trudging my way to meet Jasey at her place. She knew about the shop, and she knew that I’d never gone in, even though I was there so often. After running out of school this afternoon, she deserved a call from me, at the least. So I called her and went over to her place, and here we are back at the same downtown corner with the smell of coffee and muffins drifting through the air. I was smiling like an idiot, and had told Jasey why I was so adamant about getting out of school. I left out the part about Minho. To me he was just another human on this earth who happened to be dating my best friend, but he had a weird effect on me. I definitely didn’t tell Jasey. She didn’t ask. “Are you ready? Let’s just grab something to go, I’m really thirsty anyways.” I knew I couldn’t stand there like an idiot for any longer. I almost lost Chan once, the worst had already happened. I knew I was ready for anything. I took one last deep breath before bracing myself, and I took my first steps into the nostalgic feeling cafe.
I took in this new feeling, both the physical and mental aspects of it. It was exactly the kind of place that I dreamed of spending hours in, reading books and writing poetry. It had dim lights and a few couches, and wooden tables were scattered around the room. It’s exactly what I knew it would be, aside from a few changes here and there, but I couldn’t help but take it all in with wide eyes. Jasey had left to go order a drink for her and myself, and I went to the table that faces the window, like I had known myself to do many times before, yet never before while conscious. This was a feeling that I was starting to like very fast. At first I couldn’t remember why I was even here, but that was only for a moment. I looked around me, but I saw no sign of a dark haired boy with the eyes that I drowned in every night. There was barely anyone here, actually. I still saw my best friends backside at the counter, waiting for our drinks and striking up a conversation with the barista. A few seats over was a boy who caught my eye.
He had bright blonde hair that was down across his forehead. His shirt was tattered, but in a fashionable way, which he wore with black skinny jeans and dirty black converse. His eyes were piercing right into mine, a dark brown that I wish didn’t scare me as much as they did. I looked down at my hands to see them shaking the smallest bit. There was something about his presence that made me uncomfortable, but at the same time like I belonged even more. He looked out of place, but acted like it didn’t matter. Just like me. I looked up again, surprised to see that he was still staring at me with an unknown emotion in his eyes. He looked confused, almost. He stood up, and I unconsciously held my breath, not knowing why he was walking over to my table. The door was behind me, but he wasn’t looking at the door. He was looking right at me, almost as if he was looking through me. He stood 2 feet from me now at a dead stop. I studied his face, while I’m sure mine had “shock” written all over it.
“Allie?”
#bangchan fluff#bang chan fluff#bang chan#bang chan smut#skz chan#skz smut#skz x reader#skz x y/n#skz bang chan
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royal guard!minho
requested | some gender neutral hc for how he starts to wish he was maybe more than just a guard to you
to put things lightly, minho was the ace of your entire guard
like he was better than anyone …at everything
so originally he was on (your father) the king’s immediate guard
he was nothing but professional and saved the king too many times to count even from like stepping on rocks idk
when you turned like 17 and had to do more public appearances obv u were in a lot more danger so ur father jumped at having minho reassigned to u as the head of your personal guard “nothing but the best for his child”
the first time you met him… he only nodded or said yes or no to everything u asked him n ur jus like ok not much of a talker that’s not so bad ig haha ʕʘ‿ʘʔ
he was so quiet and “polite” for months despite you constantly trying to get something out of him
ur other guards always tried not to laugh bc if only u knew he had like two friends and was generally a pretty serious guy
but one day there was a festival in your kingdom’s central city so obv you had to make an appearance which u were very excited abt bc you only get to go into town like twice a year and THIS was one of those times
being “of age” and that much closer to taking the throne you might as well have painted a big red target on your head to signal people against the throne
everything was going fine, everyone was having fun and you decided to visit some of the booths and musicians around the square
minho was already suspicious of the situation and tightens the rest of your guard without u evenn rlly noticing but like
just as you turned to show these cute little candies to minho to maybe get a reaction for once -
the second he looks at you, someone moves to grab you but the flash of a knife in his other hand causes minho to jump immediately into action
honestly who knows what rlly happened minho moved so damn fast but the next thing you know, ur in the middle of your whole guard squad
looking through the gaps of their shoulders you see minho pinning down your assailant with a blade against his neck waiting for someone to arrest him even though he rlly wanted to just execute the guy right there
the festivities were kind of killed for u after that bc you and your family were rushed back home which u might’ve been more sad abt if u werent in so much shock :<
obv minho was the one to escort you back but like all he said was “you’re okay?” and after u dumbly nodded with wide eyes he walked with you but kept a hand around your shoulder
no one really talked after that which wasn’t unusual for him but in his mind he was rlly like
“?? ok i know its literally my job to protect this family but?? hm whyyyy do i seem to care sm more rnnn??//?” help him sdhskjd
u just looked so shaken up and disappointed and suddenly he was like damn </3 they rlly have no fun in their life and this one time they could was ruined :///
u had to stay inside for weeks after that bc it turns out there was a whole conspiracy to “eliminate” your family line so you waited in safety until the criminals were “taken care of”
minho had everything triple checked around the castle for your safety and secretly made sure you had extra treats and warm drinks sent to your room sometimes with little notes that he had the cook pretend to have sent because lately he’d heard you had trouble sleeping sometimes he’s shy boy aw
he started to realize how much he had gotten used to your smile and your little jokes and the way you sometimes tripped on the corners of rugs. and he thought maybe it was a good thing you guys didnt have many interactions lately because he was way too attached
you on the other hand, couldnt even rlly complain about having to stay inside so much bc you had everything you needed and- you knew it was for ur safety but- it wassss kind of suffocating at times
u tried sneaking out at first ((just to the garden!!)) which obviously was a bad idea bc it’s impossible to get past minhos fcking hawk eyes lmao
he STILL didnt say anything like he would just follow right behind you
n like u kinda huffed but whatever honestly at least it was just him and not 15 other guards like everyone acted like you needed
plus it was somewhat comforting to have someone so solid around even if he never talked smh
one night you sat near the little pond and tried to calm your mind by watching how the moonlight rippled in the water
you can feel him behind you so u just turn around and look at him ignoring how he was already looking at you
“would you at least sit with me?”
he kind of hesitates bc …what if someone tried to come up behind you? but with the sad look on your face he cant help but give in and sits on the stone bench at the opposite end of you
it becomes actually somewhat peaceful until you just decide to ask everything you’ve been wondering n u just blurt out-
“would it kill you to talk with me once in a while? i mean, talk like a normal person and not a machine? i dont bite i promise..”
he furrows his brow bc he’s shocked you cared at all and also he doesnt rlly know how to respond without being like “its not really in my job description to make conversation” but he honestly just thought you were being talkative out of niceties.
before he could even form a sentence you continued,
“i mean- i’m always trying to get your attention. i dont get to meet many people for obvious reasons but my guards are the closest people to me-literally, and i dont want there to be a big gap between us just because of my status..”
he cuts you off before you ramble yourself to death
“i didn’t know you were this troubled by it… i just take my job very seriously and i dont want to risk anyone’s safety for the sake of conversation”
u almost roll ur eyes but not wanting to be rude ur just like “even at home? i know you’re serious about your duties, believe me, i just… i get lonely.”
smthing inside him literally breakkkssss when you say that like u are such a pure and sweet person that deserves to have all the love and friends and fun in the world so he just gets quiet for a second and looks down
“im sorry.” he said it so softly you almost didnt hear him “i’ll be there for you more- if thats what you need. im essentially in charge of your safety and care and i’ll do anything to fulfill that responsibility.”
ok.
well this was good right? so why did you still feel unsatisfied?
“i dont want to just be a responsibility, cant we just be like friends? or…”
you cut yourself off before talking too much again
you had to admit to yourself you had developed a bit of a liking for minho, not just because he was probably the most handsome person in your kingdom, not even just because he saved your life, but he had really been a pillar of security in your life and you respected his loyalty and ambition.
he was more than admirable and everything you wanted as a standard for your kingdom
sometimes you let your mind wander to him getting on one knee and leading alongside you..
no, now youre getting sidetracked and delusional and he can practically hear the gears turning in your head so he stands up and reaches his hand out for you to grab
“of course you’re more than a responsibility to me, come on, lets go inside it’s getting cold.’
taking his hand and realizing the conversation was over, you moved to link arms instead as he walked you all the way to your bedroom door
u slept a lot better that night
from that point on you could not get rid of minho
like everyone was borderline uncomfortable with how jarring his change in attitude was
like he was constantly behind you looking right over your shoulder or grabbing your arm to stop you from bumping into things
even when he wasnt technically on duty he had taken it upon himself to give you little lessons in archery and even some defensive moves to help you protect yourself in case someone wasnt fast enough to help you
your tried not to get flustered every time he adjusted your form and the way you could feel his breath behind your ear
or the head pats when he walked you to your room at night
or his hand on your back when you guys would take walks in the garden
honestly it did not take long until one night you were sat next to your pond and after some comfortable small talk you noticed how close his face was to yours
but he noticed you didn’t pull away even as he leaned in closer and finally just kissed you
when he pulled away and saw your eyes still closed and how soft you looked his heart almost exploded
“i didnt mean to make things weird i just,, couldnt help myself, sorry”
his rushed confession pulls you out of your daze and you’re so happy (a little shocked) but you’re quick to reassure him
“it’s ok, i’ve been wanting you to do that for a while …”
he’s jus like “rlly?😳”
obviously this complicates things a lot and you aren’t really sure if you would even be allowed to have a relationship with minho bc of ur position
or if he would get in trouble for breaking the rules of attachment to u
all of this is kind of racing thru both of ur minds as you look at each other but you laugh after u both start talking at the same time
you prod him to go first so he grabs your hands and says like
“look i care about you a lot, and i know we’re not really supposed to be doing this but if i can be by your side … beyond my duties…i would really love to. but if we can’t, i can survive with just being here to protect and serve you in anyway i can”
he’s so honest and genuine and earnest it shocked u a little
even tho you were uncertain abt the situation as well you knew you had grown a little too fond and dependent on minho that you would do anything to make it work
luckily an arranged marriage was not required for you so that wasnt really the issue, but falling in love with someone not at all royal..? it was a daunting thought how the idea would be perceived
you wouldnt have said anything if you both weren’t completely sure of your feelings; but you really could not imagine being content or safe spending your life with anyone else so you mustered up the courage to ask the king and queen…
when you brought it up to your parents they looked pretty concerned
minho went on the whole “i’ll do anything to protect them and this kingdom” speech and your father just waved him off and was like
“i know u would …. i’ll allow it because there’s really no one better to represent the kingdom and because i want only the best for my child ;)”
u and minho were literally in shock but just quietly said thank u and left the room
when you had privacy he immediately pulled you in for a kiss (maybe several all over ur face)
you had a lot to figure out and many responsibilities but now you had an amazing person by your side to help you through it :.) <3
#im sorry this is so fuckn long#it took me so long to organize this and NOT HATE IT but hehe#lee minho#lee know scenarios#lee know imagines#stray kids lee know#lee know#stray kids scenarios#stray kids royal au#skz#skz imagines#skz scenarios#stray kids#stray kids imagines#stray kids au#lee minho scenarios#lee minho imagines#stray kids minho#minho imagines#minho scenarios
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Brettsey + 7 general 😊
“Is that blood?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “You are literally bleeding.”
******
“I love you, Sylvie. And I love you because of who you are. I don’t love someone else or love you because I can’t have someone else—“
What is that? Is that someone speaking? No, that can’t be it. She’s alone. She doesn’t remember how she knows she’s alone. She just knows she is.
“I love you and your ability to always give people the benefit of the doubt, the way you twist your watchband when you’re nervous, the fact that you put that picture of you and Amelia up everywhere.”
A little soggy laugh plays through her memory after those words, making her smile and then wince. Ow. What the hell? Where is she? And what is she remembering?
“My feelings are about you and me and not my past. I know that with a hundred percent certainty.”
There’s a flutter in her chest as if those words are some long lost part of her she never knew she was missing. They slide into place in her heart. She has no idea where she is or why the world seems upside down, but those words make sense. Even when nothing else does.
“I’m a little slow on the uptake and it took me too long to see it, but for the first time in my whole damn life I’m not moving on and I’m not letting go. Not when it comes to you.”
Matt. That’s who said those words. Matt.
But when did he say them? And why doesn’t she remember how she replied? She did reply, didn’t she?
Oh, god. No. No, she hadn’t. They’d gotten a call and then—
She winces again and forces herself to open her eyes. There’s splintered wood and a gaping hole about six feet above her, giving her a view of a very high ceiling through the shattered planks. She feels a cold firm surface beneath her. Not concrete, it’s softer than that.
She tries to turn her head and whimpers. The motion causes her muscles to ache, but she can do it. She wiggles her feet and kicks her legs. No neck or spinal injuries. That’s good. That’s very good.
Her brain feels like it’s been shaken up in her skull. Once it stops rattling her mind seems to anchor itself to the present again and the memories come flooding back.
Matt had said beautiful, wonderful words. She’d opened her mouth to reply and the bells went off. A solo call for 61. Man down. Her reply would have to wait — not that she knew what she would have said.
The house at the address they visited looked dodgy, but there was no red x on the outside and the doors and windows weren’t boarded up. She and Mackey had barely given a second thought before heading inside.
But then the floor started to give underneath her and she knew exactly what was about to happen. She pushed Mackey out the front door a second before the wood snapped.
After that, the world went black.
“Sylvie!”
Is that more of her memory? It doesn’t sound as distant as her memory had.
“Sylvie! Call out!”
The fear and desperation in his voice tell her it isn’t a memory.
“Matt! Down here!” She yells. “The floor collapsed! Be careful!” Through the latex of her gloves she thinks she feels dirt. “I think I’m in a crawlspace or a cellar or something!”
“Chief, I’ve got her. The house is structurally unstable. Don’t send anyone in. If we’re gonna get Brett out I need a location on a crawlspace entrance or a cellar door.”
“Copy that. Keep a close eye on her while we search the premises.”
“I’m okay!” She calls up to him, beating him to the punch. She can’t see him. He’s probably standing on the porch just beyond the threshold.
“You always say that,” Matt replies with a scoff.
“Really, I’m fine!”
“I think I’ll be the judge of that this time. Any injuries?” He sounds concerned and a little frustrated. It brings a fond smile to her face.
“I can move my neck and legs and I’m not feeling nauseous so I’m guessing no concussion or spinal and neck injuries,” she answers.
“Captain, we’ve got a cellar door on the right side of the house. It’s padlocked and chained.”
Kidd.
“I’m on my way.” A pause and then. “Sit tight, Sylvie. I’m coming to you. I know you think you’re fine, but do me a favor and try not to move.”
She rolls her eyes but agrees. “Copy that.”
She hears his footsteps walking away from her and sighs anxiously. She just wants to get out of here so they can finish their conversation. She wants a chance to say her piece!
While she waits for them she starts to feel woozy and lightheaded. She tenses as soon as the feeling settles over her. That can only mean one thing. She runs her hands over her body until she finds a growing wet spot on her shirt. The liquid is warm and thick.
Shit.
She reaches up and for the radio on her shoulder and presses the talk button. “Chief, this is Brett. If you’ve got eyes on Mackey tell her 81’s gonna need trauma dressing.”
“What happened to fine?” Casey shouts into the radio, renewed urgency in his voice. “I’m through the locks and chains, Chief. Kidd’s got the jump bag. She’s going in with me.���
“Copy that. Be careful in there.”
She hears the obnoxious squeak of rusty hinges and then quick feet shuffling through over the dirt floors. Casey’s next to her impossibly fast.
“Is that blood?” He asks with a shaky breath as he and Kidd crouch on either side of her. She feels him tugging the hem of her shirt upward. His palor pales considerably once he gets a good look at the wound.
That’s not a good sign.
She hasn’t seen the wound yet, but she doesn’t need to. She can feel how much blood she’s losing. It’s a lot. If she loses consciousness there’s a chance she might not—
They never got to finish their conversation. She has to tell him.
“Yes, but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is—“
“You are literally bleeding,” he huffs, cutting her off. “I don’t think now is the time. Focus on staying awake, Sylvie. We can talk later.”
Kidd grabs the trauma dressings, gauze, and scissors and moves to Casey’s side. Shoving him closer to Sylvie’s head and shoulders.
“You don’t know that. Neither of us do, but I do know you deserve to know how I feel. I need to tell you, Matt.”
“You said you were fine,” he says with a voice full of disbelief and eyes full of tears.
“I thought I was,” she replies sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop,” he orders while his hands brush her hair out of her face. “Don’t apologize.”
“No, I—I’m sorry for pushing you away. I felt like I had to but I see now I didn’t. I should’ve let you talk—“
“Sylvie, I promise you that doesn’t matter. I never blamed you for asking for space. My head was a mess. It wasn’t on you to help me sort it out. I needed to work that out for myself. You did the right thing for you. I understand,” he assures her, his hand gently cupping the side of her face.
“This is gonna hurt,” Kidd warns her apologetically a moment before she starts packing the gash in her side.
Fuck! She yells out and grips Matt’s arms in a vice like hold. The pain lingers long after Stella finishes. Honestly, Sylvie’s surprised she’s still conscious.
Matt yanks off his helmet and presses his forehead to hers as Stella wraps gauze around her midsection.
“You’re gonna be okay,” he tells her with convincing certainty despite how red and raw his eyes are. “And once we get you out of here, we can have this conversation.”
Kidd leans into her radio and asks for a backboard before she gingerly squeezes Sylvie’s thigh. “He’s right. You’re too tough to be taken out by a little old cut. Trust me, girl. You’ve got this.”
Matt swipes a thumb under her tears and places a lingering kiss on her forehead. “Let’s get you to Med. we can sort the rest out later.”
She grabs onto his shoulders to keep him from pulling away, tugging him closer until her lips brush the shell of his ear.
“I love you too, Matt Casey,” she whispers. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I love you too and I never want you to give me space ever again. Okay?”
He turns his head, quickly kissing the hinge of her jaw, and nods. “Trust me, space isn’t going to be a problem. You’re stuck with me now — for the forseeable future.”
Gallo and Mouch appear with the backboard as Matt pulls away. He puts his helmet back on his head, his Captain’s demeanor returning as he does.
“Chief, we’re coming out.” He says into his radio. “Get an ambo ready to roll.”
#chicago fire#brettsey#sylvie brett#matt casey#fanfiction#fanfiction prompt game#ask prompt#angellwings writes#my fic#another long one 🤣
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