#oh because I'll take you to chicago was a distraction

[bleedingcoffee42]

[allbark-no-bite]

kiss me and apologize || Carmen Berzatto x reader

summary: from private chef to working in a rundown restaurant in Chicago, your life does a 180 as you try to fit into the world that is the Beef. Richie isn’t helping and Carmen just can’t figure you out

word count: 3.7k

warnings: swearing, mentions of michael’s death/suicide

author’s note: so um i guess i write for the Bear now?? official obsessed with the show and was inspired by all of the great writers that write for Carmy on here :)

"Carmen? The door?"

"What—? Oh yeah, yeah. Sorry."

He turns towards the door, fumbling for the key with numb fingers, his face burning hot.

He wasn't used to anyone else besides himself showing up to the restaurant so early in the morning, and he definitely wasn't used to you and your pink cheeks and and warm smile greeting him at the door. You were a new hire to the Beef, a godforsaken miracle dressed in oversized overalls who had shown up two weeks ago and been hired by Sydney on the spot.

She had been smitten with you from the start, dead set on hiring you without so much as a second interview.

"—studied in Copenhagen, worked at multiple Michelins in New York. I mean look at this, Carmen. She's a private chef in the Hamptons. We would be stupid not to hired her."

And you were great. You are great. Except for the fact that you're really fucking distracting.

"You sure you got it, chef?"

Carmen can't even blame the heat rising from his cheeks from the cold at this point because his hands are sweating as he jiggles the door knob that somehow always seems to get jammed at the worst possible moments. This is one of those moments.

Finally, he hefts his weight against the door while twisting the knob and it busts open. A muffled snort escapes you from behind him. Carmen steps inside, holding the door open for you with a small wave of his hand. "Sorry. I'm sure this crap isn't what you were expecting when you applied here—"

He's rambling, stomach twisting in knots. His nerves always screw up his stomach—maybe he'll pop a few Tums before—

"It's fine, Camren," you assure him, stepping in from the cold, body pressing against his in the small entry way. "I like it here."

I like you.

"Yo, am I interrupting something, cousin? You and the princess wanna take that shit somewhere else?" Richie's shout can be heard from all the way across the parking lot, and it makes Carmen visibly cringe.

"Fuck off, cousin," Carmen mutters, reluctantly breaking away from you.

Still standing in the doorway, you huff, whatever moment you and Carmen had shared broken by Richie's arrival. The taller man stomps up the front steps, shaking snow from his boots.

So far, he had been the only staff member you found unbearable. Even Tina had warmed to you after a few weeks and now took great pleasure in listening to your elaborate stories as a private chef. Richie, on the other hand, hated your guts.

"You just gonna stand there and let all the fuckin' cold air in? I'll let Sugar know to take the heating outta your paycheck."

"Fuck off, Richie."

The morning is only the beginning of his wrath.

——

"Richie, you fucking imbecile—"

"Every single time you open your mouth, all I hear is this fuckin' bullshit. Jesus, you're so fuckin' high and mighty with your fancy ass college degree," he sneers, looming over you. If he stepped any closer you would have lacked the self control not to hit him. "You wanna come in here, act like you know everything because daddy sent you to school—"

"You don't have to fucking like me, Richie, but what you're not going to do is push me around and be an egotistical misogynist just because you have a set of balls. So give me my fucking knife."

Richie's hand is in the air beside your head, waving about in wild gesticulation that he does not have your knife, or any fucking knife for that matter. "I don't have your shit!"

With your jaw clenched together, you breathe in deeply through your nose and take in the taller man through narrowed, disbelieving eyes. "Fine." You turn on your heals and storm off. "CARMEN."

Richie throws his hands up and scoffs at your retreating back, yelling after you. "Ohh go ahead, fuckin' call mommy. Like I'm scared of him," he snorts.

"CARMEN!" Your fury only fueled by Richie's taunts, your stride quickens as you shove your way through the chaos of the kitchen, dodging both Sydney and Marcus.

"Woah, chef. What's the matter?" Sydney asks as you whip past her, her hands busy with mashing potatoes, but you don't stop to answer, instead rounding the corner like a woman on a mission.

"CARMEN—"

"—What?!" At the third sound of his name, Carmen finally jerks his head up from his prep station, only to be met with you head on. "What's going on, chef?" he repeats, looking back down to his station after taking in your vexed disposition and gathering that no one's dying. He puts on these sort of metaphorical blinders once he's in the kitchen and nothing, not even you, is going to distract him from what he does best. He becomes an entirely different animal in the kitchen.

"That fucking dickwad has my knife and he won't give it back. How am I supposed to—"

Still urgently chopping carrots, Carmen cuts you off. "Chef, just get another knife," he instructs, stepping around you to dump a pile of sliced carrots into the bin.

His dismissal throws you for a loop and leaves you open mouthed, protest caught in your throat. Just this morning he had been stuttering nervously, cheeks flushed as you stood waiting for him to unlock the staff door. Now he's biting and abrasive, domineering in the way he takes control of the kitchen. You know he's just doing his job, doing whatever it takes to keep his head above the water—keep everyone's head above the water, but right now you want to scream at him. "Just tell him to—"

"Yes, Chef," he provides, indicating that he's done refereeing yours and Richie's squabble. He moves across the station so that you have to step sideways to avoid being in his way.

"But I—"

"Yes, Chef?" Carmen effectively cuts you off with a hard stare, momentarily stopping his urgent chopping. His blue eyes are fixating despite their look of wild urgency.

When it becomes obvious that arguing your point further is going to get you nowhere, you nod, growling a reluctant, 'Yes, Chef.'

If Carmen notices your attitude, he either pointedly ignores it or is too busy shouting at Tina about onions to care. You grab a knife laid out at one of the empty stations, purposefully shoving Richie as you round the corner.

"What's the matter, sweetheart? Mommy didn't take your side?" he calls from the expo station "Didn't fuckin' see that coming."

You ignore him, deciding that he's not worth anymore of your energy for the time being. There's an entire rack of ribs that needs to be sliced and it's going to take you twice as long with this poor excuse of a knife.

"Chef, how are those ribs coming?" Sydney calls amidst the kitchen chaos. "Doors open in fifteen minutes."

Glancing at the digital kitchen clock, panic sets into you as you realize just how much time you've lost. "Fuck," you mutter, more to yourself than anyone. "Ahh—I'm going to need at least twenty," you shout back.

"What? What's taking so long?" Sydney asks. You can hear her moving behind you, finishing up with her own prep.

"Yeah, what's takin' so fuckin' long?" Richie chimes in.

Your grip on the knife's handle tightens, but you don't give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his words. "I'm working on it, Syd," you promise her, praying you can somehow speak that confidence into existence.

Richie is still running his mouth behind you. "Y'know, maybe you just aren't cut out for this. It's not too late to go back to makin' your fancy little hors d'oeuvres up in New York."

"Screw you, Richie," you mutter, your brow furrowed as you concentrate on cutting through the ribs. The knife is hardly cutting and it's taking everything in you not to just start hacking away and be done with it.

"This ain't a cocktail party. This is a real fuckin' business, and we don't need you over here messin' us up and screwin' around—"

"Screw. You. Richie."

"What was that? Can't hear you, princess," he taunts.

Just as you turn to open your mouth, ready to snap at him, the knife hits a dull spot and slips against your grip, catching your fingers along the way. Immediately you jerk your hand back, biting back a cry. The knife clatters to the ground at your feet.

"Fucking dammit!" you exclaim, clutching your bleeding fingers with your other hand.

"Oh now you've really fuckin' done it," Richie laughs, shaking his head.

You only glare at him before muttering, "Move," as you shove past him. To his credit, he doesn't say anymore as you shoulder him out of the way.

By the time you get to the back sink, there's blood seeping from between your gloved fingers and onto the floor. You have to fight back a whimper as you peal away the latex from your skin.

"Woah, woah— what the hell??"

Hands appear beside you, grabbing your own bloody hand and wrapping it tightly in a clean kitchen rag. You close your eyes, willing yourself not to faint. The pressure stings but serves to staunch the blood flow and relieve some of your dizziness.

When you open your eyes, Carmen's blue ones are staring at you worriedly. "You good, chef?"

You close your eyes again, this time not because you're dizzy, but rather to avoid the intensity of his stare. "Yeah," you manage hoarsely, finding your voice. "Yeah. Just bandage me up okay? I've still got prep to do."

Even with your eyes closed you can still feel his eyes on you. He's so close that you can feel the brush of his body against yours.

"Yeah, okay," he finally says, but you can hear the hesitation in his voice. Immediate loss fills your body as he pulls away, but then he's pressed up against you again, holding your fingers steady as he wraps them up.

It hurts and you want so badly to just let go of the cry of pain and frustration that you're holding back. But instead you bite the inside of your cheek and watch Carmen bandage your fingers like he's done it a hundred times before. When he's done, he draws your hand up to his mouth and tears the tape with his teeth. You force back a swallow when his lips brush your skin.

"This okay, Chef?" he asks, looking up at you with those ridiculously anxious blue eyes—anxious like he's always got somewhere to be, something to do, something on his mind. Now they're focused entirely on you.

Somehow you find your voice. "Y-yeah—yeah, thank you." You pause, still staring at him, not moving. "I, um—I should go finish prep..."

"Okay," he answers softly.

"Okay."

"—Hey." Before you turn to slip out of his office, Carmen calls after you. He raises a fist to his chest, tracing it clockwise over his heart.

I'm sorry.

Your brows furrow at his apology. "Carmen, it wasn't your—"

"Yes. It was," he clarifies, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back against the desk. "I blew you off earlier and you got hurt because of it... So I'm sorry."

From the doorframe, you offer him a half smile.

"Apology accepted, Chef." And then you leave him before he can say anymore, slipping back out into the chaos of rush hour.

——

You do end up finishing you prep before opening. Your fingers hurt like a bitch, and you may need to visit a 24 hour clinic on your way home for a few stitches, but you make it though. Rush hour was hell, your head hurts from both screaming and being screamed at, but now the Beef is closed, the kitchen is quiet, and you can just breathe.

Slowly but surely, everyone files out of the kitchen once they finish their end of the day tasks, bidding you goodbyes and see you tomorrows as they leave—except for Richie, who you flip off once his back is turned.

The bell above the front door chimes, announcing Tina's departure, and then it's just you left tending to your station. Sydney had offered to take care of it for you, seeing as you were down a hand, but cleaning your space at the end of the day gives you peace of mind and time to cool down after all the chaos.

At some point, the lights in the back office click off and heavy foot steps make their way towards the kitchen. Carmen appears beside you, arms crossed as he watches you clean. He's quiet, observing the way you scrub the already pristine table top over and over and over. You don't learn that kind of precision from working in a place like this.

You're an anomaly to him and he doesn't know what to do with you

You certainly don't fit in here with your perfectly refined private school vocabulary and your Michelin star palette and your fucking expensive gold chain necklace that's probably worth more than the rent for his apartment.

"What're you doing here?" he finally asks.

"Wiping my station?" Your voice is leaning on the defensive side and he figures that probably has to do with Richie.

"Exactly," he concedes. "So what are you doing here? Because six months ago you were making fuckin' soufflés in the Hamptons."

This time you actually kind of laugh because that statement is not too far off from the truth. "I don't know, Carmen. I was bored?"

"You don't give up the Hamptons because you're bored."

You look up at him for the first time since he's walked up. There's no bristling anger in your eyes like there was earlier when Richie took your knife—he did and you both know it. You just look at him, really look at him, and then you set down the rag and you nod. "Just like you don't give up Noma?"

Carmen holds your heavy gaze for a while. It's as if some sort of unspoken understanding passes between the two of you and eventually he sighs, nodding. "Right."

You look around at the restaurant surrounding you, the stained floors, the rundown kitchen appliances, the framed 'let it rip' note. "Natalie, uh she told me about him—Micheal... I'm really sorry. He seemed like a good guy."

His eyes follow yours to the note, and he doesn't say anything for a minute, which isn't unusual, Carmen has always been decently shy since you met him, but it makes you wonder if it was a mistake bringing it up.

Strangely enough, this is the first time that someone's brought up Michael and he hasn't wanted to slam a door in their face. Normally, he would just nod and say something like, 'yeah, he was a good guy' and that would be his way of wiggling out of another unwelcome conversation, but he doesn't. Instead, he stares at the note and wonders for the first time since Micheal died if he should have gone to the funeral.

It made him feel like a fucking asshole for not going, but he couldn't listen to all those people saying how good it was to have him back—how happy Micheal would have been to have him back—because if Micheal hadn't gone and killed himself, he wouldn't be here anyhow. He'd still be in New York. He'd still be angry at Micheal like he is now.

Carmen sighs. "I—I wish that I had talked to him more instead of just fucking off to New York. Because after that I just hated coming back too all of this... y'know? And then it was like even when I was here, he kinda just knew that I didn't want to be here, and so we spent that time just fuckin'... at each other's throats.." He trails off, sniffing to clear the choked up feeling from his throat. "Just—who the fuck does that?"

He's asking you. Who shoots themself and doesn't even leave a note? Who shoots themself and leaves their little brother to pick up the remains of their shithole restaurant?

"Well," you begin, laughing a little at the absurdity of it all. "You're talking to a girl who decided to quit her job after three years as a private chef and is now slicing spare ribs in Chicago for just over minimum wage."

The unseriousness of the confession makes him crack a smile and now he's fighting a grin off of his face. "Yeah, that was uh..." He's still chuckling, shaking his head. "That was really stupid of you. Why would you do that?"

You're fighting a smile too now, heart pumping in your chest because he's really fucking pretty when he laughs. His cheeks are flushed and his curly hair is a disheveled mess and you just want to reach over and smooth a hand through it.

Your tongue wets your bottom lip and his blue eyes don't miss the nervous habit. "Well, there's this guy..."

"Yeah?" Carmen's smiling, the tired expression on his face softened by the twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, there's this guy. And I've looked up to him my entire life. He's brilliant—like really fucking brilliant. And I promised myself that if I ever got the opportunity to work for him, I would do it."

Carmen snorts softly, glancing down at the white tile floor a bit bashfully before looking back to you again. "And now you know what a freaking psycho I am, huh?"

You can see it, him retreating back into the mellow, unsure person he becomes when he's not manning an overflowing expo station, a broken freezer, and an entire staff of chefs. It's endearing how timid he is, like he almost doesn't really know himself or how he fits in anywhere outside the kitchen. "I don't think you're a psycho, Carm. I mean, I would be a little crazy too if I had what you have on my plate."

He just nods, still a little sheepish at your praise. Just like this morning, when you had caught him at the back door before opening, he doesn't know what to do with himself when you're around.

You break the silence by turning back towards your station. "I'm going to finish up here. I don't mind locking up if you don't want to stay."

Carmen watches as you lean forward onto the toes of your beat up sneakers to grab the paper towels off the overhead shelf and the hem of your hand cropped t-shirt rides up. His first instinct is to look away because the exposed flesh of your rib cage feels like something he shouldn't be seeing, much less staring at, but it's like he freezes out of panic and now he's looking at the tattoo just under your breast.

He stands there, mouth partially open to reply back to you, but it's like his tongue is numb in his mouth and he doesn't even remember what he was going to say anymore. And then it's gone, concealed again by the hem of your white t-shirt.

When you walked into the Beef two weeks ago, your tattoos had been strangely surprising to him at first. He hadn't pictured you like that in his mind—bronzed skin and tatted forearms and cherry glossed lips—just grunge enough to make anyone who passes you look twice. Now you're all he thinks about.

"Carmy. Carmy?"

You're staring at him, head cocked to the side, brows furrowed in confusion and—God, he wants to kiss you.

"Are you oka—"

"Can I kiss you?" He blurts out the question as if he won't be able to finish it if he doesn't get it all out in one breath. Like he knows that if he doesn't ask now he's never going to have the courage to do it again, and he'll be stuck shoving down these feelings for you for the rest of his life.

When you stare at him, eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights, he knows he screwed up. His stomach drops and—fuck, he really needs a Tums right now. He looks away, hand reaching to his hair, eyes darting to the ceiling because he can't take the embarrassment of looking at you.

"I—fuck, I'm sorry. That was totally—um. I shouldn't have—"

"Shut up, Carmen."

"No, that was stupid of me. I—"

"Shut up so I can kiss you, you moron."

Stepping forward, your hand curls around the back of his neck, drawing him down to close the gap between the two of you. Even then you have to stand on your toes to reach him. Although the tense, anticipatory stiffness of his body against yours is screaming wait, you press your lips to his before he has the chance to back down.

It's everything that a first kiss should be—hot and sweet and a bit awkwardly reserved. You can tell he’s nervous. Nevertheless, you can't help the hum that escapes you at the feeling of his plush bottom lip pressed between your own. If given the choice, you’d never pull away from the warm taste of his mouth.

Carmen's breathing heavy, heart pounding in his chest, hand pressing into your back, pulling you closer as he kisses you impossibly harder. He's never kissed a girl before and he decides then and there that he never wants to kiss any girl that's not you.

It’s not clear which of you pulls away first—coming up for air more than anything—but it leaves you both nose to nose, mouths still inches from each other, still sharing the same air that you would had your mouths been connected.

“Carmen?” you ask softly, nose brushing his as you speak. You can feel his heart beating against his chest.

“Yeah?” he replies in same breathy tone.

“Did I mention I really like it here?”

[magadauthan]

Ep 9: Murder Machine

Aaaaand now for the @trigun98watchparty, we get into what makes Trigun, Trigun. Come for the dumbassery, stay for the trauma.

Cue the entrance of Nicholas D. Wolfwood, wandering priest, and his gloriously bare chest.

--Vash can dish out the whining, but he can't sure take it. Milly is the champion, as the baby of the family. "Pay for our bus fare or I'll hate you! and btw can I have ice cream?"

--oh my lord, Meryl, you are so mean to that poor man. Punch count: 3; insult count: 2 - and then you and Milly steal his water.

--WW's Kansai accent is usually coded in English as Southern. It's probably a good thing the dub didn't tackle that, because it would have been distracting, but wouldn't WW with a Boston or a Chicago accent have been amazing? Come on, the Blues Brothers are right there! (hmmmm... there are an awful lot of similarities between Elwood and Wolfwood...)

--Ah, the portable confessional. Add another notch to the "items seen once and never again" tally.

--Boob shot!

--WW's cold read regarding Vash's empty eyes and hurting on the inside is less impressive when you consider that he has more information than he lets on.

--look at his stupid dress shoes, Tristamp nailed that shit, didn't they lol

--"Why doesn't anything nice ever follow you?" F*ck around and find out, Meryl

--"Did we just become best friends?" "Yep!"

--even the kid thinks you two are a couple of dipshits, seriously

--All of this worthlessness is what Tristamp was missing. Vash and WW have to have adventures where they shoot things, get into trouble, and insult one another. This is what's called "male bonding."

--This is one of the clearer looks we get at how the Plants do their Plant Thing. Push the button and a spider robot comes out. Um, okay. Guess that one was less useful than the Tuna Fish Plant or the Canned Salmon Plant.

--Why was it left behind again? Aren't Plants irreplaceable?

--Vash has a pretty good idea that WW's full of shit and takes a risk on him anyway. He knows how to force a hand.

--they're so cute as a team, aren't they lol

--And there's the second gun. don't ask about Knives' third gun lmao

--Milly gets to be best girl again. WW does take a shine to her right away, doesn't he. That, and he probably thinks it's amusing to make Vash and Meryl sit together. It's so third grade. (it's okay, Meryl, you can admit you don't mind that much)

In light of later events, it's interesting to note what parts of WW's cover story are true and which are fabricated. WW has been handed his orders from Chapel, so his encounter with Vash was no coincidence; WW has to case the joint before making a move. The girls helpfully confirm that WW has made contact, and he has to get Vash to trust him. Not too hard, though Vash isn't quite as naive about WW as he puts on. Everyone's got their act.

WW figures out quickly that Vash is a big softy, or maybe he has info; nevertheless, his generosity towards children (which Vash shares) isn't false. The part about the orphanage and protecting the kids is true, though the circumstances of WW's departure have nothing to do with money and everything to do with a hostage situation. WW's amazement at who he's going to be dealing with is also genuine; he knows Vash is legendary, but seeing Vash wipe out all the mechanical mooks while injured is next-level.

And, at the end of it all...

WW certainly didn't expect to like Vash as much as he ends up doing. (cue the conflict, and a zillion angsty fanfics.) That's going to make everything a lot more complicated.

[thehypotensivegrad]

The Adviser (33/45) | Bechloe Mafia AU

Chapter Preview - Read the rest at ao3

Chloe leaned on the railings on the rooftop of Barden Tower. It was another long day of scheming and plotting. They had the ball rolling after all, they had to keep it going.

Beca had her back on the railing herself, sipping on the coffee she bought on the way back from their walk. The two of them not quite ready to return to the office yet.

The sun was setting, Aubrey had messaged them about dinner and take out, another long night in the office awaited. Chloe was starting to miss her home, her bed. Or late-night drinks alone with Beca…

How far had they come since they first met.

She never imagined for things to get too far out of hand. But Chloe believed things would quiet down soon enough, and it will be back to her usual routine soon.

Except not really.

She gave Beca a quick glance and smiled wistfully. "What?" Beca had asked as she felt Chloe's eyes on her. "What are you thinking about Chlo?"

Chloe hummed. "I'd want for nothing else than put Chicago in his place, for all this to end. Return to the normal swing of things," she said truthfully. "But with what you have to do…" she went on to say, trailing off as she thought about Beca's honest confession about her plans for Chicago and the Kommissar specifically. She gave enough details to paint a clear picture, only because it was Chloe who asked.

She felt conflicted about it. Not because of what Beca had to do exactly, but the consequences and what they meant.

Sure, they'd put everything to rest. End this fight once and for all.

But at what cost?

Chloe wasn't sure she was willing to pay the price.

"Don't worry about it," Beca then reassured her, as if she had read her mind. She turned around and placed her arms over the railings before bumping her shoulder against Chloe. "Don't you know I'm a miracle worker, or have I still not convinced you yet?"

Chloe chuckled. "You don't even know what I'm thinking about," she said, trying to deflect the fact that Beca seemed to accurately guess what it was.

"I do," Beca admitted. "Don't worry about it, Chlo," she then repeated. "The things that need to happen will happen, and whatever comes next, well, we'll deal with it. Things will settle back to normal soon."

"Yeah, but the normal I want has you in it," Chloe then found herself saying. It felt like her heart was about to jump out of her chest with her confession, but she needed to say it at least once.

"Would you really miss me that much?" Beca then asked, looking rather smug.

"Everyone will," Chloe replied, not losing this battle. She'll miss her, yes. But she wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing how much.

"The future isn't fixed, and you're worrying about something that hasn't come to pass," Beca then noted. "Just have faith."

"Can a devil like you really say that?" she teased back.

Beca sighed and shook her head. She raised one hand and offered Chloe her pinky, despite looking away from her. Chloe laughed but nonetheless accepted by intertwining her own pinky with Beca. "I've never lived life in the traditional sense, I marched to the beat of my own drum," Beca said. "So, no matter what happens, I hope you know, I'll find my way back here to you. Always."

Chloe felt her cheeks burn bright as she stole a glance at Beca who still looked away. She wasn't sure if it was the orange glow in the sky brought upon by the sunset or if Beca was blushing just as hard as she did, but she took comfort in that promise either way.

"I'll miss you too, you know," Beca then admitted, stealing a glance off Chloe before pulling her finger away.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be distracted by your own plans and mafia business," Chloe teased in response. "You'll probably think of nothing else."

"You're wrong about that," Beca then replied, and her next words would be forever seared in Chloe's heart. "The truth is I won't think of anything else," she had admitted before turning towards the direction of the stairwell.

Chloe hid her face in her hands for a minute to keep her heart calm. Saying things like that…That's all they could ever admit to. Anything more would make things harder.

But Chloe hoped that perhaps one day, all of this now would be worth it.

And she could, in fact, get all that she wanted.

Those normal days, where Babel and DSM, where Chicago and his atrocities would be a distant memory.

Normal days she could spend with Beca.

[castlebyersafterdark]

for a while now i've had a vision of mike and will grinding in a club somewhere in san francisco but then it turned into a vision of noah/finn grinding dancing to my love by florence at the wrap party and everyone there is just like 'who didnt see it coming tbh'

Oh, absolutely beautiful. I love that. I love exploring the idea of Will and Mike a little older, navigating their lives as adults, firm in their relationship. I know the fandom seems to be a three-way split on whether they end up in SF, NYC, or Chicago and this scenario works for wherever (even if my vote typically lands in NYC - I have this entire world I've built in my mind of their post-Hawkins life and I know what their dorm looks like, who the other boys are on their floor, their jobs, their classes, their first apartment. It exists in scraps of drabbles and bullpoint lists and I'll never formally write it all out but I'm just using this ask to mention how vividly insane I actually am hahaha)

Anyway. I love the idea of the first time Mike and Will go to a club. Sure to be an overwhelming situation. Being in the midst of so many other gay men. Shamelessly intimate with each other. Men hand in hand, men making out with other men against the wall or right in the middle of the dance floor, men with their arms around each other, and the initial shock of Mike and Will when they see the dirty, raw way some men dance together. They almost feel like they shouldn't be seeing this. But it's allowed. It's all allowed there. They're safe. Will wants that. He has no idea if he's a good dancer like that because he's never allowed himself to find out. He wants to dance.

He keeps wistfully looking at the dance floor and is distracted as they sit at the bar and sip at drinks they shouldn't have been served but the bartender lets it slide because it's the nineties and every young gay guy deserves a freebie and you can always clock a newbie. Will wants to dance with his boyfriend. In public. They didn't get to dance at prom. They didn't even go. That night, they shyly slow danced in Mike's basement and hooked up on the old couch and Will cried about the ending of their childhood and how the world was unfair to boys like them. Will wants to dance with Mike. Mike watches Will look away yet again and hops off the stool, takes Will's hand.

"Dance with me?"

"Mike, I'm not going to be good at it. I don't know what to do."

"And you honestly think I do? Come on. No one cares here."

And they walk out to join the crowd, hand in hand, two boys who are now young men, navigating the world. It's a faster song and they don't know what they're doing. They're awkward and off-beat, but after a few songs, they start not to care about how they look and care more about how they feel. It's incredible. It's freeing. They hold hands and steal kisses and let their bodies exist closer together than they'd ever allowed outside the privacy of four walls. They jump to the music and attempt to copy from some of the guys near them, who join in and laugh as a group, all feeling the music and the existence of love.

Mike's got his hands on Will's waist, gripping him hard and pulling him close, hips flush. Will's wrapped around his neck, swaying with the music, sweaty and smiling and kissing and kissing Mike in view of anyone who cares to look. He leans backwards into the air, tethered to Mike's shoulders and Mike spins them around, and Will's totally lost in their own world with eyes closed and neck stretched. Then it's more hips against hips, hands in the back of pockets, hands everywhere, teeth on necks, bolder now that the floor has filled further, the music a little slower. As close as they can get away with in public, though many others are also pushing the limit. It's thrilling, being like that. Will spins and his back is to Mike's chest, letting his body be guided, and Mike's half hard against his ass. But what else is new? He knows they're probably not the only ones in a state of arousal on the dance floor. He can see that clearly. They are young and gay and momentarily free and they are so so so in love. ❤️

[camaro-and-smokes]

Is She For Real?

Chapter 16: I'm Flying Home for Christmas

Links to other chapters on tumblr on CH 1 >>

Read on AO3 >>

Tags: Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove, original female character Emma, emotional hurt/comfort, Christmas

Summary: It's 1999. Steve's about to fly back home from a work trip on Christmas Eve, but of course things aren't going to plan.

Author's notes: So, I decided to add the inevitable Christmas chapter :)

::::::::::

Steve had just gotten two chapters in the book he bought from a kiosk at the airport when the announcement came.

"Oh, come on!" he huffed when he heard that his name was mentioned among the ones denied boarding and should contact the ticket counter.

"Listen, all I'm interested in is getting to San Francisco sometime tomorrow. I don't even care about the time," he told the clerk at the counter. "I know that this is the worst time of the year, but if there's any chance..."

"Yes, I understand that, sir," she replied patiently. "But all the flights from this and the neighboring airports are fully booked until the day after tomorrow. The earliest flight to San Francisco I can get you on leaves on the 26th."

Steve rubbed his face with his hand. "I have a little girl at home. She's three, and I have missed every Christmas with her because I've been travelling for work over the holidays. If it was just me, I'd take the package and the hotel you offer and be on my way already. But I want to be at home tomorrow for her, not for me. Are you certain that there's absolutely no chance for me to get on any flight?"

"Sir, I understand that this is most inconvenient, and I'm so sorry that you can't get to your little girl. I checked the flights, but everything is booked full."

Steve sighed, defeated. "Ok. I guess I'll then take the offer of the hotel for two nights and the first flight out on the 26th."

Steve sat on the only empty seat he could find close to the counter and took out his mobile phone. This Christmas would probably be Emma's first. She would have any actual memories of - and he was going to miss all of it. Telling Billy about him being stuck in Chicago was one thing, he understood things like this happened. But breaking it to Emma, that he wouldn't be there on Christmas - his own heart broke for the thought alone.

"Hey, babe! Are you boarding yet?" Billy asked when the call connected.

"I wish. The flight was overbooked, and guess who was denied boarding."

"Well fuuuck," Billy sighed.

"Dadda, no cussing!" Steve heard Emma scold Billy with the tiny lisp she still had.

"Sorry, Emma!" Billy replied to her. "I've been talking about cursing with her a lot lately. It's a nasty habit. I don’t know where she has picked it up."

Steve snorted and smiled. "Yeah, where indeed, I wonder."

Hearing Emma's tiny voice and thinking that he was missing this step of her development, too, made Steve swallow hard to keep his emotions in check. Even though he was happy that his work made it possible for Billy to stay home taking care of Emma and they didn't need to touch the fund—his fund—they'd planned to keep untouched for her college, moments like this made him question if it really was worth it. He missed so much when he was away. He took a deep breath. "So anyway, I'm stuck in a hotel for two nights because the first available flight is on Sunday. Every flight is full."

Steve heard shuffling and a door closing.

"Sorry, I just had to come to another room. I don't want Emma to overhear anything accidentally. So, you're stuck there until Sunday?" Billy asked.

"Yeah. No way to get from here to anywhere until then. I already have a ticket though. The flight leaves at four in the morning, so I'm there first thing."

"This sucks ass. Emma has been so much looking for Christmas. And she hasn't talked about anything else today but you coming home."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I took her to see Santa in the mall to distract her, at least for a moment, and when he asked what she wanted most for Christmas, she said that she just wanted daddy to come home. I fucking choked at it and had to bite my tongue so hard it bled."

Steve could feel tears stinging his eyes, and he squeezed them closed. "I'm resigning. I mean it. This work has robbed me way too many important dates and development steps just this year alone."

”Babe, Steve,” Billy said softly, ”we’ll talk about it on Sunday. We'll come pick you up from the airport."

Steve couldn't say anything. He would've just burst into tears, so he just nodded and swallowed.

After waiting for a while, Billy spoke. ”Do you want to break it to Emma yourself?”

Steve took a few deep breaths. ”Yeah.”

Steve heard the door opening, and Billy calling for Emma to come to the phone.

The girl let out a high-pitched squeal and ran to the phone. ”Daddy?”

”Yes, firefly, daddy is here.”

”Dadda took me to the mall, and there was Santa!” Emma said.

”Really? Did you talk to him?”

”Yes,” Emma replied. ”He asked me what I wanted for Christmas.”

”Wow. What did you tell him?”

”Daddy to come home,” she answered after a moment of silence.

Steve couldn't hold back a tear falling on his cheek. ”Firefly, daddy wants to be with you tomorrow, but I can't.”

”But you promised!” Emma whined, clearly upset.

"Yes, I know I promised. Emma, do you remember when we talked about how daddy has to fly to get home?"

"Yes," she replied quietly.

"Well, sometimes daddy can't fly. And now that happened. And daddy can't drive either, it would take too long. Daddy has to wait until the day after Christmas to come home."

”But you promised!" Emma replied with a sob.

Steve had to squeeze his fingers to his eyes to keep more tears from falling. ”I know firefly. I'm so sorry I can't keep that promise. But it's just one extra day! And we can then have our very own Christmas. You'll get presents on two days. How about that, my fairy queen?”

”But it's not the same!” Emma shouted.

Steve heard the receiver clang against the wall as Emma dropped it and stomped away, crying. With her short temper, Emma was definitely Billy's daughter, even though they weren't blood.

”Hey,” Billy said to the phone a moment later. ”I'm sorry, babe. She was just...”

”Yeah, I know,” Steve interrupted Billy. ”I was really looking forward to being there too.”

They spent a moment in silence.

”I'll call you again later from the hotel, ok?” Steve said.

”Yeah. Baby...it sucks, but it's just one day. I'll talk to her. I love you.”

”I love you too, firecracker.”

Steve stared at the phone in his hand. This had to be the worst Christmas ever. Missing it when it was just him and Billy—it was different. But missing it with Emma, who had visibly grown both physically and mentally from the last time he'd seen her every time when he stopped by home—he had missed so many steps with her and it broke his heart. And now having to break his promise of being home by Christmas after he'd specifically told her he would be home then.

”I'm sorry, but I couldn't but to overhear your call,” the elderly woman who was sitting next to Steve said. ”You missed your flight?”

Steve glanced at her. ”Well, kind of. The flight fully booked and because I arrived among the last ones, even though I was on time, they denied me from boarding. Two nights in a hotel it is. At least there's a proper breakfast tomorrow.”

"So, you have a daughter?" she asked.

Steve smiled. "Yeah. She's three." He let out a sigh. "I was supposed to be home for Christmas for the first time since we had her. She was really looking for it. And me too. But I guess there's Christmas again next year. I just hope that my work allows me to be home then."

"Oh, that's unfortunate. It's always double disappointment with small children. My husband used to travel a lot for work too when our children were small, and he missed Christmases as well. And then when he finally didn't have to travel anymore, the kids were already the age they didn't care for Christmas that much."

Steve nodded. "I probably have to start looking for new options for work so that this doesn't happen ever again. This is the—excuse my language—shittiest feeling ever."

"My husband used to say the same thing," the lady said compassionately. "He couldn't do anything to it, though. We had four kids, and he had a good health insurance through his work, so we didn't have any options, really." She paused for a moment. "If you can do that, you really should. Kids are small only for a limited time."

"Yeah... And we don't even know if we can have more kids."

"Oh? How so?" As soon as the lady had said the words, she must've realized what she had said, for she hurried to add: "Uh, I'm sorry, you don't have to answer. It was rude of me to pry."

"No, it's fine. We're not just your average pair who have kids. My partner is a stay-at-home-dad, and I try to do my best to allow him to do that."

"Oh. Well, I can imagine it is different for sure to have kids in that setting. Is your daughter yours or his?"

Steve smiled, happy for the distraction. "She...Emma is adopted." He took out his wallet and dug out a photo of Billy and Emma to show her.

Seeing the photo always made him smile. He had taken it when they had visited Hawkins the previous winter. Billy was holding Emma on his arm like a rag-doll. Both of them had the reddest cheeks, and they were smiling their widest smiles. Both of them were also snowy because Billy had just moments before thrown Emma into the high pile of soft snow he, Billy and Emma had collected together in the yard. Steve had pushed Billy into the pile next to the giggling girl because Billy had done that to her. And then he'd taken the photo after he'd helped them get up. And then, after taking the photo Billy had given Emma to him and he hadn't realized why, Billy had dropped a fistful of snow inside his jacket collar as a payback.

The photo was perfect, and he had ordered extras of it to have one in his wallet, one in his suitcase and one on his office desks at home and at work. Billy had laughed that they should get a professional photographer to take a photo of all of them together and put that on his desk—at least at work. But he had replied that the photo had what he had signed for and not for plastic smiles in a perfect lighting.

"Oh my, she's cute! And this is your partner?"

"Yes. We've been together for just a little over fourteen years now."

"He's very handsome. And so are you, but, you know..."

Steve laughed. "None taken. I know he's a catch. I'm lucky to have him."

"And he stays at home and takes care of your daughter? Like a stay-at-home-mother?"

"Yes. He's actually a really talented car mechanic who specializes in classic cars, but he has taken it as his job to make a decent human being out of our daughter now. I try to help the best I can, but I'm away a lot and yet he's doing such a stellar job that I can't but admire him." Steve smiled and ran his thumb over Billy's face on the photo gently. "He didn't have the easiest start in this world, but you couldn't tell that when you see him with her. It used to be me who kept things running, but now it's the opposite. With Emma...he practically raises her, makes sure she has everything she needs, he organizes all kinds of things for her to do, they have frequent play dates and he's obviously charmed all the mothers on our street with Emma because there's always someone willing to take her over if we want to go on a date or something whenever I’m at home." Steve paused. "He has a network of people willing to help and I do not know how large the network actually is," he added, laughing. "There's just always someone who he can call and get help. I bet, though, that he does the same for others too when I'm not around. Another thing I never knew he was capable of before we got Emma."

The lady looked at Steve, seeing the wide smile on his face. "You must love him a lot?"

Steve took a deep breath. "Oh yeah, I do. I couldn't imagine being with anyone else. He's a handful though," he ended, making the lady laugh.

"Well, the best ones are, right?"

"Yeah," Steve replied, chuckling. "Too bad I have now two of them. But I wouldn't change anything. I love them to bits."

They were silent for a while.

"It must have made your life a lot easier to have those mobile phones?" the lady asked, pointing to Steve's phone that still was in his lap. "Being able to call from almost wherever, right? I suppose they work everywhere?"

"Well, they work where there's network available. So no, they don't work absolutely everywhere. Not yet, at least. But in most cities, yes. And I mostly travel between cities, so it's not an issue. And yes, it has made a difference, especially in the very beginning, when my partner wasn't yet fully trusting himself being able to keep Emma alive."

"He seems to have done a good job."

"Yeah. He's amazing. And Emma adores him, just like he adores her." Steve smiled. "And she's even so much like him and they're not even related but through adoption. Both hotheads, and emotional. We use a truckload of tissues a year."

"But that's not a bad thing at all! Where else you can show emotions but at home where it's safe to do so?"

"You're right. Well, Billy's childhood home wasn't safe, and he learned to show emotions only when he was with me. All my jacket pockets are full of tissues." Steve smiled again and took a tissue packet out of his pocket. "You never know with my hotheads when the tears fall, so I always come prepared."

The lady laughed. "You are a very devoted husband, I can tell. So, do you just talk on the phone when you're travelling?"

"Yes. Well, sometimes when I'm stationed somewhere for a week or two, my partner might send me a home video to watch. They make these videos where Emma presents her own show. It's dancing or singing, usually both, and then she always wants him to join. So then they goof around and dance and sing together."

Steve's face softened as he thought of the latest video he'd watched at home. He'd had a horrible jetlag and he couldn't sleep, so he'd been watching one of the latest home videos late at night. In the video, in between the dancing and singing and overall shenanigans, Billy turned the camera to himself. He smiled his widest smile, the one he knew was like kryptonite to Steve, and said: "Babe, if you're watching this alone at night, please come to bed, next to me. You don't have to sleep, just be with me. I miss you." Steve had acted at once, turned the TV and VCR off, walked upstairs and crawled into bed, curling around Billy. He hadn't been able to sleep, but he'd been close to Billy, trying desperately to pay back for all the times he hadn't been there.

Memory of that time made Steve's heart ache, and the lump that had melted a little over the chat with the lady returned to his throat. "It breaks my heart that I can't be with them on Christmas," he said with a cracking voice.

The lady looked away for a moment. Then she patted Steve's leg. "Listen. I suppose you're going to San Francisco too?"

Steve nodded.

"My children live far and they weren't able to come visit me this Christmas. They have their own things to do. And my husband died two years ago. Which is why I'm here. I was visiting a friend of mine who's in the hospital. I have no one at home waiting for me. But you do. I have a ticket for that flight, and I want you to have it. I could do two nights in a four-star hotel with full upkeep."

Steve looked at her, surprised. "But what about your...if you have a caretaker or your medicines or...I can't take your ticket!" he stuttered.

"Young man. There's no one who visits me often. I have enough tablets with me to last for another week. I'll manage more than better. But you need to be at home for Christmas. So, come, let's transfer the ticket to you."

She got up, leaned on her cane and started walking towards the gate with her roller bag.

Steve was stunned. He sat in his seat for a moment, but got over the initial shock of his luck changing, and finally followed her.

"Yes?" said the clerk on the counter.

"I'd like to volunteer to take the next flight so that this gentleman can get to San Francisco by today," the lady told her.

"Umm, we can't really just decide who gets the free seat..."

"Young lady. This man has an important job he needs to be doing tomorrow. Being a father. His little girl is waiting for him to come home after a long time of being apart. Are you sure you want to deny that from a..." she turned to Steve, who heard the discussion and just showed three fingers from his left hand to her. "...from a three-year-old? It's their very first Christmas together. He must get on that plane."

The clerk looked at her for a while, then at Steve, pondering. After a while, she sighed. "Alright. But don't you tell anyone on board I did this," she said as she exchanged the tickets for both the lady and Steve.

Steve looked at the ticket in his hand, still not believing what had happened. He looked at the lady, who he had helped to return to their seats to wait for an assistant to help her get to the hotel.

"I really don't know how I can ever pay back to you. Words seem so inadequate, and since you won't accept money... Allow me and my family at least take you to a dinner when you're back home."

"Well, I might just accept that," she said, smiling, and squeezed Steve's hand.

The last announcement for boarding sounded from the speakers above their heads a moment later.

"Well, it's time to get on the plane then. Have a very merry Christmas," Steve said and started towards the gate. He took his phone out and dialled Billy's cell.

Billy answered almost immediately.

Steve smiled. "Guess what, babe. I'm coming home tonight after all. The last call just came and I'm walking to the plane right now."

"What? How?"

"There was this elderly lady..." Steve said and turned to look back at the waiting area - and his heart fell.

There was a group of people around the lady, trying to get her to respond to their calls. Her head was hanging against her chest and all colour had vanished from her face.

"Babe? Is everything ok?" Billy asked when Steve didn't continue.

"Uh...I don't...I-I don't know," Steve stuttered. "The lady, she gave me her seat...I think she had a seizure. She's sitting unresponsive where I just left her. I walked away from her literally just five minutes ago."

"Baby, if there are people taking care of her... There's nothing you can do to help her. You're not a doctor."

"I know...I just...She gave me her ticket..."

"Babe, she gave you her ticket so that you could get home to us tonight?"

"Yeah, she did," Steve replied absentmindedly, his heart tearing into two for the need to see if the lady was ok and hurrying to the plane.

"Steve. She probably would've had the seizure in the plane if she was there. Now people can help her easier."

"I know..."

"Baby,“ Billy said softly. “Maybe it was her Christmas present to you?”

“Yeah.” Steve took a deep breath and turned around and walked past the gate, showing his ticket to the clerk. "Yeah, I'm coming home, firecracker."

"The best Christmas present anyone could give us, our family, babe. We'll be at the airport waiting for you."

The moment Steve walked through the doors to the arrivals hall in San Francisco, he spotted Billy and Emma. She was sitting on Billy's shoulders holding a red placate with Steve's name and hand-drawn reindeers and stars on it.

When she saw Steve, she started chanting: "Daddy! Daddy!"

Billy let her down and took the placate letting her to run to Steve.

"Hey firefly!" Steve said as he scooped her into his arms and hugged her tightly. "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you, daddy! Dadda missed you too."

"Did he?" he asked with a smile.

Emma nodded eagerly. “Daddy, I've been a really good girl. Do you think I will get a lot of presents?”

“Well, I don't know. That's up to Santa, isn't it?”

Steve walked to Billy, with Emma sitting on his other arm and pulling his flight bag behind him. Steve let go of the bag and wrapped his freed arm around Billy's waist, pulled him tightly against him, and gave him a kiss straight on the lips.

When Emma decided that his daddies showing affection to each other was enough—which was almost instantly—she grabbed Steve's cheeks and pulled his face away from Billy's, and hugged his neck tightly again. “I really missed you, daddy,” she whispered into Steve's ear.

“Yeah, I really missed you too, Emma.”

[josiehook200]

Nuptials Of Blood, Chapter 27

Kasey 

"Hope you consider publishing your book with us. -Walter Deville."  You have got to be kidding me! It can't be him! Unless this company has an office in England, they're still in England. I look at the signature and see that Chicago, Illinois is on it. Is it possible that they're in the States or is someone pranking me? I mean, who's that evil to possibly hack an email of the owner of the publishing company just to offer me a chance to publish my book with them? Wait...How the hell did he even get my email? Oh...Right...my email is listed on my FaceNook page and my Linkdown page. 

"Kasey? Kasey! KASEY!" I jump at the sound of Shann's voice next to me. 

"What?" 

"Are you okay?" 

"Yea, why do you ask?" 

"You've been in the kitchen for the last five minutes." Didn't think I was in here that long. Shann sees my phone in my hands and sees the opened email. 

"Who emailed?"

"Uh, no one important. Heh. I'll be in my room." I dodge past Shann and make a beeline for my bedroom. Once I get into my room, I lock my door behind me. Yes, I know I should have told Shann about the email but, I'm kinda have some shame towards my crush on Walt. Mainly the reason for the shame is the fact he was trying to get into Nadia's pants the first three days we were England and I did think he was a douche. Anyway, will deal with the shame later. I open my phone again and look at the email again. How did he get my original copy? I thought I threw it into the trash? Unless he dug it out of the said trash. Why would he dig it out of the trash though? I stare at the screen for a few minutes before I finally respond. I click reply on the email and begin to type my email. 

"Dear Mr. Deville, I would be more than happy to accept your offer to publish my book. I would assume a meeting would have to be set up? What day works for you? - Kassandra Larson." After I look it over, I press send. I close out of the mail app and open the clock video app to distract myself for now. 

A little while pasts and the party seems to die down when I see an email notification comes in. I close out of the clock app and open the mail app. I click open the new email that just came in and see the email has a date and time set up for this meeting. I read through the email. 

"Miss Larson, would October 25th at 3 p.m? - Walter Deville"  Well, I do have work that day so, that'll work. Will just have to ether drive down or take the train down there. I reply back. 

"That'll work for me. Soon on the 25th. -Kassandra Larson" After I finish typing the email, I click my phone and head to my closet. I believe I still have interview clothes from the previous interviews with other publishers. 

Currently trying to drive through Downtown Chicago at closer to 3 in the afternoon. Should have taken the damn train but, then again there wasn't any that would have given me enough time to get here without being late. 

"How much longer?" I hear Sienna whine in the back. I told the others and my parents about this meeting the day after Shann's birthday. Because based on what I told my parents about the Devilles, mainly Walt. They made me take Shann, Ni, and Enna with me to this meeting. I didn't fight my parents on it because I was too nervous for this meeting. I don't mean to be rude but, it'll be on my parents if the other people in this car are the reason why this meeting doesn't good well. They're the ones that made me take them with even though I'm almost 27 and can take care of myself. 

"Hopefully, not much longer."

"You said 10 minutes ago!" 

"Well, excuse princess, but there's traffic for some reason today. So, hold your fucking horses." Sienna shuts up after I say that. 

About 5 minutes of traffic later and finding out that there's a parking garage for this company, we head in.  I walk to the receptionist's desk with Shannon, Nadia, and Sienna behind me. I see the receptionist is on the phone. 

"I'll be with you in just a moment." 

"Alright." The receptionist's phone call ends shortly after. 

"Okay, what can I do for you?"

"Hi, I'm Kassandra Larson. I have a 3 o'clock meeting with I believe Walter Deville." A few clicks and clacks go by before the receptionist speaks again.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Deville is in the meeting on the fourth floor along with both Ms. Devilles." Viktoria and Lucy are in this meeting too? 

"Alright thanks." I head to the elevators and slowly the others follow behind me. Once we get into the elevator, I press the fourth-floor button and the doors close. During the ride up, my mind starts to race. 

These heels hurt my feet! Why did I wear them? Why do I still have them? I thought I threw them out after the last meeting with a publisher? Is my skirt too short? I hope my skirt doesn't ride up. Am I sure this was my clean white bra for this top? Gah, why did I choose this outfit instead of the other ones? Don't make an ass of yourself in front of the Devilles! They're the ones that are going to be the reason if your memoir gets published or not. 

I'm brought out of my thoughts when I hear the ding of the elevator. We walk out of the elevator and head to the meeting room that the Devilles are in. We ask a few people around of where this meeting room is and they help us find it. When we get to the room, I knock on the door first before we walk in. 

"Enter!" We walk in and everything I was going to say goes straight out the window once my eyes lock on Walt. Oh, this meeting is not going to go well. 

"Kassie!" I get hugged by Lucy. 

"Kassandra! I see that you brought your cousins with you?"

"Muh-my pa-parents made me br-bring them with me." 

"I see." I catch the look in Viktoria's eye as she walks back to her seat, bringing Lucy behind her. Did she already figure out why I'm stuttering a little bit? Thanks a lot, Dad! I inherited your stuttering problem. 

Viktoria

"Muh-my pa-parents made me br-bring them with me."

"I see." I take one last look at Kassandra before pulling Lucy off of her and walking back to our seats. I caught her face flush once she saw Walter which Walter did roughly the same when she walked in.  It is quite obvious that both of them really like the other but, don't know that the other feels the same. 

Walter

I walk up to Kasey and take her hand to shake it. 

"Miss. Larson..." 

"Mr. Deville..." Fuck, I'm already putty in her hands. Trying hard to control myself from kicking everyone else out this room and just fuck her here, but no. Need to take this slow. Don't want to mess this up before we even have a slight chance of getting together. I finally let go of Kasey's hand and head back to my seat before I try to take advantage of her. Damn it, I hate to admit this but, Viktoria's right. I am acting like a horny teenager when I'm around Kasey. Need to work on that. 

Kasey

Mr. Deville finally let's go of my hand before I try to kiss him in front of everyone. That would most likely make a bad impression. Wait, did I say try to kiss him? Oh, sorry, I meant before I make up an excuse to be alone with him and try to fuck him before anyone catches onto the lie. 

"Please, have a seat." We all sit down, and I see Viktoria pull out documents. She slides them over to me. 

"What's this?"

"Just a contract. We've already decided that we're publishing your memoir which will take about a year or maybe less to do. We called this meeting just make things official."

"I feel like I should have a lawyer read over this before I sign it."

"Do you know any lawyers?"

"My Uncle Knox is technically a lawyer even though he hasn't used his law degree."

"Alright then. Where is your Uncle Knox at the moment?" Nadia butts in before I speak. 

"I think he's having lunch with Uncle Keith." I turn to Ni. 

"Which Uncle Keith, Ni?" 

"Your Dad, Kas. My favorite Uncle Keith." I see the confused expressions on the Deville's faces. 

"Nadia has two Uncle Keiths. Her Mom's side and my Dad." 

"Oh! Well, then. Where are they having lunch at?" Why are they asking that?

"I believe at Denny's in Palai." 

"We'll be right back." The Devilles leave room and come back in about 5 minutes later. 

"Alright then, we'll resume this meeting in about an hour." 

"An hour? Why an hour?"

"Oh, that's long it's possibly going to take Renfield to go and get Knox and Kenneth Larson from Palai. If that's alright with you."

"I guess." 

"Wonderful." 

An hour later and Renfield comes back with Dad and Uncle Knox. Uncle Knox is reading over the contract while Dad seems to be making Lucy laugh with just being himself. 

"Again! Again!"

"Manic Monday." Dad doing his impression of BEW Canadian wrestler, Ledge. Uncle Knox finally finishes reading the damn contract. 

"Alright, Kasey. I've read it over. Now, this is a 2-year contract. Meaning that you're under contract with this company for at least two years."

"Okay, and?"

"Are you okay with that?"

"Yes."

"Alright then. Just sign it whenever you're ready." I take the pen from my Uncle and sign the contract. 

"Alright then. Congrats and welcome to Red Sky at Write, Miss. Larson." It's official. My memoir is going to get published!

Previous chapter Next chapter

[yourmidnightlover]

rock

Summary - spencer wants to figure out what's wrong with you, only to be reminded what day it is and he remembers why you've been so distant.

TW: talk abt: rape, recovery, therapy, case stuff; mention of: drug addiction, rape, miscarriage, being shot, death lol

WC - 4,283

!DISCLAIMER! - i am in no way trying to romanticize recovery from a traumatic event or being upset/depressed/anxious. this is kinda my way of getting through my own issues, so please don't think that's what i'm trying to do in any way. i also don’t know how i feel abt this ending since i wrote it so long ago but oh well!

i just realized there are a few spoilers so i'll put *asterisks* around them. those parts are just explaining how the reader's always there for the team.

----------------------------------

you had always been the rock in spencer's life.

mentally, at least.

when he had nobody there for him when he was going through his addiction with dilaudid, there you were. you helped him through it when everybody else on the team acted as if they never noticed.

you were the one that encouraged him to get help, and pushed him to follow through. you made sure he ate and talked to someone when he had his urges again, even if it wasn't you.

you let him come over and cry about what had happened, and how unfair his life was. you consoled him and would tell him how nothing was his fault. how he didn't deserve anything bad in his life.

*and when emily 'died', he went to your house every day. you held him as he felt himself falling apart from losing her. you didn't even worry about yourself needing to be consoled, because spencer needed you to be there for him.

*when she came back you were the one to convince him to forgive her. you talked sense into him. you reminded him how much he pleaded to have her back, and then he did. so he managed to forgive her... because of you and your logic.

*and you weren't just there for spencer. while, yes, you made a special effort to be there for him, you were there for everyone on the team.

*when derek was arrested back in chicago and the team found out about his past, you were the one he leaned on for comfort. you and penelope. you let him cry on your shoulder and yell at you about how twisted a man would have to be to do something so cruel to a child.

*when jj was kidnapped and beaten to a miscarriage, you were the first she told. you didn't say anything. you knew there was nothing you could say that would relinquish the pain of losing a child. so you let her cry. you let her hug you for what felt like hours. you let her grief her unborn baby for as long as she needed.

*when penelope was shot, nobody cared to check up on her after the fact except you. you went to her apartment for weeks just to make sure she was okay. eventually, she was able to let loose all of her frustrations on you, and you took it like a champ. she ranted about how she just wanted to be loved by someone attractive and how unfair and cruel the world is, in spite of how much good she tries to bring into it.

*when hotch lost hailey, you took care of his files. you offered to watch henry and let hotch cry to you about losing her a few times once you broke past his tough exterior. you even cried with him and jack. you made them dinner whenever you could, and helped him look for good nannies to help care for jack.

*when rossi lost carolyn, you went to her grave with him on many occasions. you brought him his favorite scotch, which was very pricey, and his favorite cigars, also very pricey, and tried your best to recreate 'the rossi special' upon his directions. it helped him feel in control of something when he needed it.

*and when emily came back from the dead, you helped walk her through her own grief. she lost herself, and buried her emotions. you helped her dig up her old self, and grow into an even better woman. you even took care of her cat when penelope couldn't manage. you helped emily grieve her own death when she wanted to deny it ever happened, and she was forever grateful for you.*

you had become like the team's built-in therapist when something bad happened, and you loved it that way. you loved being the one the team went to when they needed it. it made you feel as though you had a purpose, which was something you desperately needed.

but when you went through your own trauma almost a year ago, you refused help from anyone. you knew you should've asked someone for help, or at least someone to cry or talk to when you needed to.

the team had been working on a case for longer than expected, 8 days now, and everyone was really frustrated. you had released the profile 7 days ago, and there was still no new information. it was as if the unsub had gone dormant, and you all couldn't bear that thought.

when the team released earlier than normal from the precinct and you all went to the hotel you had been staying at, you decided to get a drink from the bar quickly. you went alone, wanting to review a few of the case files during the process and not needing a distraction.

you ordered a jack and coke, and opened the case files to begin rereading them, seeing if you had missed anything.

victims were kept for 24 hours, filmed, raped, restrained, cut in pieces, and thrown in the trash like garbage. it was absolutely disgusting, and the worst you had seen in a while. the victims were low-risk and most of them had a place of authority.

the unsub had been profiled to be someone who was bossed around by a woman, narcissistic and egotistical, wanted to feel more power and authority.

the problem is, that profile was most people living in the area. even penelope couldn't dwindle down the suspects.

and alas, you had missed nothing. nothing new appeared or caught your eye. you gulped down the rest of your drink and paid for it before packing up your things to head upstairs. you tossed the file back into your bag and began the trek to the elevator.

you were interrupted by something hitting the top of your head, rendering you unconscious.

the team had woken up, and after waiting around for half an hour, spencer realized something was wrong. he had morgan bust into your room, only to find the bed unslept in. you were missing. and the worst part... you fit the unsubs type.

spencer felt his heart drop at the realization he had taken you. and it seemed as though there was no trail as to where you had gone. penelope checked the cameras, only to find that they were hacked right after you left the bar, and then they resumed after you were taken.

at least they had a time frame.

later that day, after everyone hasting to figure something, anything out, spencer had gotten an email. he opened it and expected it to be relentless spam, only to realize it was a live feed video. a video of you. he instantly called penelope in hopes that she could trace it.

she said she could, but it would take some time because the amount of routers it had been going through.

while they were waiting, you noticed you were alone. you knew who the unsub was too, thanks to his baffling stupidity and narcissism that lead him to believe he wouldn't get caught.

"officer johnson! it's officer johnson!" you looked around the camera for a second, noticing something moving. "he-he here," you cried out. "i love you," you said to the camera to nobody in particular, but someone in mind.

you were terrified. spencer could see it in your eyes. he could see the tears you tried not to shed. you didn't want to please him, but you couldn't help but feel the absolute horror and fear coursing through your body at a relentless pace.

"hi there, missus fbi," he teased, finally walking into the frame with a ski mask over his face, clearly not aware that we knew his identity.

spencer told garcia who he was, and she began her digging. officer johnson's great grandparents had owned a farm that was since then refurbished. it was an hour away.

officer johnson had known that you two had chemistry. that's why he sent the email to spencer. he saw the longing glares, the 'innocent' touches, the smiles you would give each other, the longing looks you shared. he wanted to torment him.

so when he began undressing you and you turned your face away from the camera in hopes of sparing some of your own dignity, spencer felt his heart breaking for you. it broke even more when he heard the yelps, and screams, and please, and "no!'s" you elicited during the act.

they caught him before he cut you, but not before he finished the first part of his plan. your skirt was ripped, and your shirt was practically in two pieces. spencer had given you his jacket to cover yourself as much as you could.

you stayed silent the ride back. you didn't even let spencer hold you like you normally would after a tough case. you were ashamed. embarrassed. you felt worthless. you felt pathetic. you felt stupid. you felt helpless. you felt like you were drowning. you felt like you were without a life raft.

you knew you could talk to the team about it, but you felt so disgusted by the thought of what happened to you that you only talked about it in your therapy sessions.

hotch had given you two months off. he wanted you to grieve, and go to therapy, and try to cope with everything that had happened.

and you did try to do that. you tried your hardest to get over it and move past it, but nothing helped. not the journaling. not the talking. not the crying. nothing was working.

spencer gave you a little space at first, but he then decided to try to help you as you had helped him. he went over to your house almost every day, and sat outside your door after you wouldn't let him in.

you knew he was there... you sat on the other side.

"i-i know that you probably don't want to see anyone right now. and i'm uh, i'm sure you feel alone right now, or like you can't talk to anyone," spencer sniffled. "but pl-please just uhm, just know that i'm here when you want to talk about it. i'm here to listen to you when you need me to. i-i don't want you to be alone during this time, y/n. please, just let me in," he begged.

that was normally what he would say almost every night he went to your house. he would sit outside for hours after he would ask you to let him in without fail. until one day you let him in.

spencer felt so much relief when you opened the door, only for it to be smashed when he noticed your eyes looked red and puffy, your cheeks were stained with the tears you had been crying for so long. your cheeks were sunken in, and there were dark circles underneath your eyes that were once full of life and happiness. your eyes no longer had that gorgeous sparkle in them.

spencer vowed he would get them back.

as much as spencer wanted to wrap his arms around you in that moment, to comfort you and tell you that he was there, he wanted you to make the first move. he wanted to tell you how strong you were and how proud of you he was for getting through that. he wanted to tell you how much he loved you.

he wanted you to make the first touch, because he didn't want to further upset you. he didn't want to trigger a repressed memory, or bring back the feelings of what had happened.

but spencer's touch was nothing like the officer's. spencer's touch was soft and gentle. spencer's touch was feather-light and endearing. spencer's touch was love and home. the officer's was brittle, and rough, and repulsive.

"hug me?" you sniffled as your eyes welled with tears again as they had been for the past three weeks.

"of course," spencer slowly wrapped his arms around your shoulders as yours found his torso.

he walked inside with you still in his arms and slowly shut the door. without breaking from the hug, you both walked to the couch and sat down.

you didn't say anything. you just needed spencer to keep hugging you, so he did. he did whatever you wanted, needed, from him. eventually, you fell asleep in his embrace on the couch.

when spencer looked down at you, now sleeping against his chest, he couldn't bring his heart to remove himself from you. so like any whipped man would do, he carefully picked you up bridal styled and carried you to your room. he took his shoes off as well as his sweater vest before cuddling back up next to you.

as if it was a reflex, you cuddled up into his chest when he neared you again and got underneath the covers. spencer slept the best he did in months with you. and you slept without officer johnson in your dreams for the first time since that day.

ever since then, spencer had been making sure you were eating and drinking. he took you to your therapy sessions and stayed over most nights you had asked and he was able to.

they had a few cases during the two months, so every moment he could, spencer was with you. he coaxed you back to your normal-ish self. he watched as that glimmer in your eye began to slowly grow brighter everyday. he watched as your smile came back, and your tears didn't come so frequently.

the first time he had heard you laugh again, spencer had thought he was dreaming. he wished he had recorded that moment. he was more grateful than he's ever been in his life that he had an eidetic memory, because that sound would forever be engraved in his brain.

when you returned to work, you clung to spencer. he had become your tether to reality, and hope. he had become your rock during the recovery.

over the months, everyone slowly began to forget what had even happened. things went on as usual, and the team forgot the traumatic experience you had gone through. even spencer might've let the experience get lost in his brain.

so when it became 11 months and 3 weeks since the abduction, you began to distance yourself once again.

you politely declined going out with the team a couple days before the anniversary, something you never did. you insisted that you were just especially worn out from the case you had just been on.

spencer had to finish files given to him by derek anyway, so he didn't get to witness the encounter.

once the day of the anniversary came upon you, you found yourself feeling sick to your stomach. you couldn't help the tears that would fall from your face every so often. you knew why you felt this way, but you wanted to push past it.

you had gone into the office wearing a pantsuit and blazer, wanting to avoid the normal office skirt you happened to be wearing the day it happened. you stayed at your desk and quietly did your case files. you didn't even greet spencer as you would every day. you gave him a kind smile, but you would normally give him a hug, or at the very least an eager wave upon his arrival.

spencer just assumed it was one of those days where you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. it wasn't spencer's fault he thought this. he didn't even look at his calendar to check what day it was. he just knew they had paperwork.

but he did have this day marked in his calendar. he had it marked so he would remember to be extra kind to you, and do your files for you, and come to your place with your favorite wine and takeout. he wanted to help you through the one year anniversary, but he forgot to check his stupid calendar.

you thought he didn't care. you thought the man who you loved, and the man who helped you through everything that had happened had had enough of your complaining and grievances. so, you didn't tell him about it. you didn't bother him with the terrible thoughts clouding your mind because you thought it'd burden him.

so when you finished all of your case files early, you asked hotch if you could leave early, at 2:00, because you had things to tend to. he allowed you to do so, but this rose a flag for spencer.

he saw you exit without saying goodbye to him, something you hadn't done the entirety of knowing him. you had always told everyone to have a nice night and to be safe before leaving, but not today.

finally, he looked at his phone for the first time all day, only to feel like the worst person in the world to realize what day it was. spencer felt absolutely horrible at this revelation and ran into hotch's office as quick as he could after packing his things.

"hotch!" he exclaimed upon opening his office door.

"go. she was practically in tears," hotch informed him. "and reid," spencer stopped in his tracks to turn and look at the stern man, "please make sure she's okay." spencer gave him a soft grin and a nod before turning around and bolting out of the office.

you had gotten home and immediately burst into tears. you shut the door with your back, and slid down it. you had never understood why people had done that in movies until now. you just couldn't wait to break any longer, so you settled for your front door.

you held back no wail, or scream as you cried in front of your door, your knees pulled up to your chest as you held them tightly.

you wondered why you had to go through that. you wanted to know what kind of karma there was for someone who had always tried to do the right thing to be hurt... and for nobody to even care. nobody wanted to console you, or to make sure you were alright.

you had checked up on everyone on every anniversary of their struggles. whether it be a death, abduction, anything, you had been there for every single anniversary or reminder. and nobody was there for you.

nobody was there for you to hug, or to lean on, or to cry to, or to scream at, or to rant to. nobody was there. nobody loved you enough to care about that.

but then you had to remind yourself that they all had lives.

but the person who is your life didn't even care.

spencer didn't care.

and that's why you truly lost it.

he acted like it was just another day. he acted like it wasn't the anniversary of the day you thought you were going to die. the day you wanted to die. the day you felt your most low, and humiliated. the day you lost all hope. and he didn't remember.

if the man with an eidetic memory didn't remember, it must be extremely insignificant. so therefore, you must be extremely insignificant.

spencer raced to your house. he wanted to be there for you today, and he failed. he felt like a failure as a friend. he hated himself for not being there for you when he knew you would need him. he knew how you clung to him in your time of need. you thought he was worthy enough to hold onto when you needed someone, and spencer felt elated at that.

but now he wasn't there for you. and you needed him.

he had quickly stopped by the store and your favorite takeout place to get the things you'd want. he got your wine, chocolate, food, flowers, and a teddy bear that had a sweater vest on him - you've always loved his sweater vests.

when he got to the steps of your house, he felt his heart drop. as he walked closer he heard the wails of your crying right by the door. he could sense the heartache from the edge of your porch, and felt himself feel even worse, which he didn't think was possible.

he instantly ran to the door and knocked profusely. you sniffled one last time, feeling embarrassed that someone had heard you crying your heart out. you had figured one of your neighbors heard you and wanted to tell you to keep it down, so you wiped your tears and the stray mascara from underneath your eyes and opened the door, keeping your eyes lowered in embarrassment.

"y/n," spencer announced sadly, a tear falling down his face. you looked up in confusion from hearing his voice. you noticed his tear and reached up to wipe it away on instinct.

"why're you crying? are you okay?" you asked, forgetting all of your own problems at the sight of spencer crying. spencer let out a small chuckle at your concern.

"i'm alright, aside from the fact that i'm a terrible friend," he admitted as his smile quickly faded upon seeing your stained cheeks. "i brought your favorites," he offered, holding the bag of goodies in one hand and the takeout in another.

"y-you... why?" you asked, wanting to make sure you weren't misreading the situation for him trying to comfort you.

"why?" he asked in disbelief. "because it's the anniversary. i can't tell you how sorry i am, y/n. i swear i marked it on my calendar and planned for us to take off so i could take care of you. i-i just woke up late and never bothered to even check my phone. i kn-know it's no excuse... but i am so, so, so sorry," he rambled out, already tearing up.

you grabbed his arm gently and pulled him inside before you started crying in front of your neighbors. you took the bags from his hands and placed them on your coffee table.

"i thought you just didn't care," you shrugged as you took a seat on the couch, prompting him to sit beside you.

"y/n..." he sighed as he realized how terrible he screwed up. "i will always care about this. i will always care about you. don't ever think differently. i'm just incredibly... dumb sometimes. i can't believe i made you think that," he trailed on. "i will never not care about you, y/n. i swear it. i will always, always care about you. i will always love you," he froze as he realized what he just revealed. your eyes widened, and squinted, and roamed his face, trying to figure out if he meant the words he had just sped out. "i truly do, y/n. i i’m in love with you and i'm so sorry i made it seem otherwise."

it took you a second to absorb everything that he had said.

"you too," you solemnly admitted. "i’m in love with you too. and i could forgive you... for almost forgetting," you gave him a small smile.

"i'm glad you could forgive me. i don't know what i'd do if you didn't," he relished. "you actually love me?" you nodded with a small smile.

"i have for a while," you turned your head to the bags on the table.

"oh! right!" he said, reaching for the gifts. "i got your favorite takeout, your favorite wine, your favorite chocolates, flowers, and..." he trailed on as he revealed each item. "i saw this teddy, and i couldn't resist," he smiled.

you took the bear, taking in its appearance. it had a light blue, navy, and white diamond pattern sweater vest and brown shoes on. it looked like spencer, just teddy bear form. you smiled widely at the sentiment.

"it's you," you grinned as you took it in your arms, hugging it tightly as you saw spencer nodded with a smile mirroring that of your own. "i love it," you chuckled.

"i would understand, the fur is really soft," he relished in the thought.

"i don't think he'd be as good of a cuddler as the real thing, though," you grimaced. "but he'll do for when i don't have you here i guess," you shrugged with a smile.

"i plan on being here as long as you'll let me," he said softly.

"always," you grinned, setting down the teddy bear and trading him for the real spencer reid.

"always," he repeated, taking you in his arms and squeezing you tightly as if you'd float away at any moment. "now let's dig into this food while you talk about your feelings, if you want that is," he said after releasing you from the hug.

"i think i want to," you nodded. "and spence?" he turned from getting the food out of the bag to look at you for a second. "thank you for being my rock through all of this."

"i'll always be your rock, y/n."

@averyhotchner  @greenprisca  @muffin-cup

[enchantedblackrose]

Summer Heat

Original photos not mine, taken from Google Images. If you believe them to be yours and want credited or removed please lmk

Summer Heat

Description: Female reader imagines what being with some of Chicago's finest might look like. Kelly Severide. Jay Halstead. Antonio Dawson.

Warnings: 18+ only, oral sex (fem receiving), brief mention of spanking. Smut language?

If you read this and like it, please comment and reblog. Please.

Summer Heat

The Chicago summer air was heavy. Inside the 21st precinct was almost as stifling. Either the air conditioning can't keep up with the high temperature, or the outdated unit is on the fritz. You realize it quite possibly could be both. You suppose it doesn't matter as one point remains the same: there's no relief from the summer heat.

To make matters worse, things are unusually quiet for the Intelligence Unit. You and the team are stuck at your desks getting caught up on tedious paperwork.  Everyone is desperate for interruptions. 

Adam stands suddenly, volunteering to pick up lunch. Antonio tells him it's only nine and a disgruntled Adam sits back down in his chair.

The day drags on. So far you have attempted paperwork, rearranged the contents of your desk, made yourself appear busy without really doing anything, taken two bathroom breaks, and actually worked on your paperwork.

A sigh escapes you. You're bored and hot, itching for anything to break up the monotony of this day.

You catch a sudden movement from the corner of your eye and spot a familiar face.

Kelly Severide from Firehouse 51 is bouncing up the stairs. He nods in greeting to the others in the bullpen. Before you can get out the question as to what he's doing here, he shoots you a playful wink and heads straight into Voight's office, closing the door behind him.

Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's due to boredom, but despite being at work you can't help but imagine Kelly giving you that same wink right before he brings his lips to your entrance planting a kiss right there. Then his mouth dips down, his tongue darts out licking at your folds. His stubble brushing against your sensitive skin and his tongue finding your sweetest spot, causing you to moan. Kelly wouldn't bother fighting back a chuckle. He'd slip a finger inside you and work it vigorously giving you immense pleasure. He'd continue to lick and suck at your clit, pausing only to say how good you taste. Another finger would slip inside you and Kelly wouldn't stop until you climaxed. He'd feel you start to shake and would encourage you to come with words and actions. Your hips would involuntarily buck against his mouth, but Kelly would be unbothered...

You cross your legs desperate to feel any friction. The door to the office swings open and you nearly jump. Kelly catches your eyes and you think you blush. 

"See ya around, y/n." He waves a hand bye to the others.

"Mhm," is all you manage to mumble before he disappears down the stairs.

Jay questionly looks at you from his desk. But you shake your head. You grab a hair tie from your wrist and grab your hair to put in a high ponytail desperate to keep it off your neck.

"You look like you could use this." You look to see Jay now standing at the side of your desk, offering you a cold bottle of water.

'Thanks," you smile as you reach for it. You place the bottle at the nape of your neck before cracking it open and taking a long sip.

Jay leans closer to you. Despite the heat, his hot breath tickles your skin. "Sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine,"  you lie. As Jay makes his way back to his desk your mind wanders again. This time to Jay.

His lips drop to the spot on your neck behind your ear as he presses a sensual kiss there. He's just told you how fucking beautiful you are and you can still feel his breath on your skin. His hands would roam your body. His calloused fingers feeling rough against your soft breasts but his touch would be gentle, cupping each one, massaging them and lightly pinching your nipples. A delighted moan would escape you and you would straddle him. You envision Jay helping you lower yourself onto him. As you adjust to his size, he sucks and nips at your neck and collarbone. Your hips would steadily rock against him. While you might be in control of the speed Jay would take advantage of the position. His hand and mouth are taking turns engulfing your breasts,fingers pinching your hardening nipples, tongue encircling the sensitive peaks. His actions eliciting more pleasurable moans from you. You would build a faster rhythm, almost aching with desire. His other hand makes its way to your ass, smacking it lightly. The stinging sensation would only turn you on more. Your hitched voice telling Jay you're about to cum would cause his light eyes to grow dark with lust. His hands urgently attach themselves to your hips as he helps you rock against him harder and faster until...

Antonio calls your name, pulling you out of your daydream. Your head whips in his direction. "What?"

A smirk plays at his lips as he carefully looks at you. Fearing that he can read your mind, you blush. Of course you're being ridiculous; there's no way he could know what you were just thinking about your colleague. Your eyes carefully dart to Jay, who has his head down in his paperwork. You look back at Antonio. You're not sure, but you think his smirk has grown.

"I asked you if you had an extra file folder." He stands at his desk, arms crossed and it's impossible for you not to notice how the stance emphasizes his perfectly chiseled arms.

"Uh..umm, yeah. It's right...Um, here," you answer, clearly distracted, pulling out your side desk drawer, rummaging through files until you come across an empty folder. Antonio's eyes never left you, but now you feel Jay's on you again. You glance at him, but seeing his bemused expression, you quickly look back in your drawer. Pulling out the folder, you extend your arm, finally offering it. "Sorry, Antonio." He takes it from you grinning, but doesn't say anything, which is for the best because once again you're preoccupied.

You can't help it. You really like how his name falls from your lips. An...ton...i..o… An...ton..i..o. Oh! You imagine calling out his name over and over. His large dick would fill you completely and he would expertly drive it in and out of you. Your moans of pleasure mixed with his name would only encourage him and you just know he'd be calling you mami or nena. And that would almost be enough to send you over the edge. One of your hands would grip his muscular shoulder, nails undoubtedly leaving marks as you dig into him, attempting to bring him impossibly closer. Your other fingers would lace themselves in his short hair and tug. His thrusts somehow manage to hit you deeper. Your back would arch further into the mattress and the slight change in position would cause your name to come out of Antonio, followed by a few swear words in Spanish. This would, of course, turn you on even more. Antonio would be able to tell by the way your eyes fluttered shut but not before you saw that smirk of his. He'd purr into your ear, telling you how good you felt and that he wasn't anywhere near done with you yet. His words would trigger your release, your walls clamping around him -

"Alright, all of you get outta here, we're done for the day," your sergeant's gruff voice interrupts you and you're embarrassed to admit you never even heard his office door open.

Upon Voight's dismissal, you all but jump from your seat more than ready to leave the precinct.

Jay easily catches up with you. "Hey, y/n, wait. Let's go to Molly's for a drink. You can tell me what's been on your mind all day."

"Uh…"

"I just got a text from Gabby," Antonio's voice calls out from behind you as he slowly approaches the two of you. "Said she, Casey, and Severide are already there. Looks like everyone is wanting a cold one after this scorcher of a day. So, what do you say, y/n….you coming?"

Antonio's choice of words cause you to blush and you mentally curse yourself. Jay and Antonio watch you waiting for your response.

"Yeah, I'm coming- I mean, yes I'll go to Molly's." You quickly walk away, leaving the two men behind. You wonder just how long it will take for you to be able to look either of them in the eyes again. This was going to be a long night.

Stupid summer heat.

[y0itsbri]

gallavich week 2021 - day 3 - travel au as always inspo from @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

Stuck with You

Words: 5.5k

Summary: A winter storm strands a desperate-to-return-to-Chicago Ian at the airport with no car. A dark-haired mysterious man in an expensive-looking leather jacket and sunglasses seems to be his only hope. Ian grows suspicious of the man's true intentions as they embark on their road trip with some funky excursions. The two men find what need they most in each other.

"Fiona, I'm literally at the gate. I'm about to board now!" Ian was lying straight out of his ass as he was running through the bustling airport, dragging his bag as fast as the bent-as-all-hell wheels on the suitcase would allow him. He had not, in fact, woken up to his first alarm... or second. Maybe he was running extremely late despite Fiona's near-constant nagging to get there early in case something happens again.

Ian mumbled a quiet "Fuck" as his suitcase's wheel locked up again. He did not have time for this. His huffed cursing was apparently heard by Fiona's supersonic hearing. A woman in white capris glared his way. Okay, maybe it wasn't that quiet.

"Ian!" Fiona's voice rang through his phone. She sounded frantic and exhausted. She had every right to be, but Ian was not in the mood for an early morning guilt trip. "What happened? And you better stop fuckin' lying to me and get your ass-"

"Fi, I gotta go, love you, talk to you later, promise," he mumbled all the formalities as genuinely as he could muster before he hung up. He had tuned his attention into his surroundings and noticed an absurd about of people hovered around the rent-a-car station while the airport gates nearly empty, except for the occasional airport employees trying to reason with irritated passengers.

Sure enough, something did happen, as Fiona would have happily predicted. There was a massive winter storm and all flights had been delayed until further notice. Ian idly walked to his gate just to make sure he wasn't going to miss his plane like he had the day before. The gate was a fuckin' ghost town besides one man in an expensive-looking studded leather jacket and shiny dark hair to match. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of purple sunglasses, despite the fact that they were currently indoors.

Ian instinctively stepped closer to the man to maybe strike up a conversation. It wasn't something he was so fond of doing, but if he was trapped at an airport, he might as well make friends. Anything to distract his anxious thoughts about not making it back to Chicago in time for his interview. He couldn't even look at his phone, knowing Fiona was probably blowing it up right now about how he has to get his shit together. He knows.

In the midst of his inner debate, Ian oh-so-gracefully tripped over a chair -- the wheels of his suitcase coming to a halt, causing the bag to loudly clang against a nearby pole.

The man jumped up with a startle, yanking off his glasses and swiftly reaching into his boot and pulling out a small knife. He slowly took in the fact that there was no threat -- just a giant blushing ginger wincing at the knife pointed his direction.

The man sighed and tucked his knife away, "Shit, I thought you were trying to rob me or something."

Ian eyed a small black backpack tucked behind the man's legs. That bag was sleek and tiny compared to Ian's nightmare of a bag.

"Ain't look like you got much to steal," Ian joked, immediately regretting his decision to be witty after literally just being held at knifepoint. Maybe the mysterious man would appreciate his charm.

The man frowned. Okay, maybe Ian's humor wasn't for everyone.

"And how did you get that knife through security?" Ian asked in attempt to ease the tension a bit.

"None of your damn business." The man retorted shortly, but his eyes lingered over Ian for a moment longer, amused.

"Right." Ian replied after a moment. That was fair. He was a stranger, after all. But there was something about this man that was so intriguing. The man stood nearly half a foot shorter than Ian and clearly had the personality to make up for it. Ian was most definitely not in the mood to almost get stabbed again so he decided to lay off the talking, making an obvious show of adverting his gaze from the gorgeous leather-clad man in front of him.

"Uh.. hey," the man spoke up again as he looked around the terminal. "Did I miss the flight or did everyone just get abducted by aliens or some shit?"

Ian was amused at the aliens bit. Who even was this guy?

"It looks like all flights are delayed. Some freak super-storm coming in, don't want any crashes or anything."

"Buncha pussies," the dark-haired man grumbled as he stood up.

"Where are you going?" Shut up, Ian, shut up shut up shut up.

"Rent-a-car? Is that okay with you?" The guy pulled his bag over his shoulder, but turned his gaze back to Ian.

"Uh, yeah, I mean -- sorry, never mind." Nice going, Ian.

"I'm just busting your balls, man. Just gotta get back to Chicago before the weekend. Can't just sit around like a little bitch and wait for a storm to pass like some people." The enigmatic man teased him.

Ian rolled his eyes, but followed him like a lost puppy. "You're not the only one. I have an interview in Chicago in two days and I really can't miss it." Ian pointed back towards the rent-a-car area when the man didn't question him any further. "Don't think you'll have much luck with that, by the way. They looked almost sold outta cars when I walked past here earlier."

"So you walked past the rent-a-car instead of actually getting one? Real smart, Stumbles."

Ian cringed at the nickname. So much for first impressions. The man pulled out his phone from the tight pocket of his pants and stopped abruptly, Ian almost losing his balance to keep from stumbling into the guy. Again. Ian was literally swept up off his feet by this dude. He had to get himself in control before he lost what remained of his dignity.

"Ey' Dimitri, I need a car." The guy said into the phone. Ian awkwardly waited around. It wasn't like they made any plans of travelling together but they were in the middle of a conversation, he couldn't just leave. It wouldn't be polite. Not that much about this guy was polite to begin with. But they had something going at least. The phone conversation got heated very quickly. Now Ian could very clearly see why he was the type of person to have a knife in arm's reach at any given notice.

"I know you have fuckin' plenty. I'll drop it off next time I see Yevgeny, you know I'm good for it. I gotta job this weekend- It is your fuckin' business when your bitch of a wife- Oh c'mon, you can admit she's a bit of a bitch. Whatever- Or do you wanna tell Svetlana that your incompetent ass is the reason why she ain't getting her payment- or do you plan on paying for that shit? Didn't think so. Black cat. Red one."

There was definitely a lot to unpack and as curious as Ian was, he was definitely not gonna ask... yet.

"Red, you comin'?" The dark-haired man called over his shoulder as he started heading towards the airport's exit.

"Me?" Way to play it cool, Ian.

"No. The other giant ginger standing behind you. Yes, you."

"My name's Ian, by the way."

"Don't care."

"Where are we going?"

"Chicago."

--

Together but not together, they waited for... Dimitri, maybe? The shorter man beside Ian was tapping around on his phone and hadn't said a word about their plans beyond the simple 'Chicago.'

Right as Ian got the nerve to ask, a sleek black jaguar came to a halt on the street in front of them. Ian only knew a bit about cars because his brother liked fixing them up -- and man, was this a sick car. Lip would be jealous. Ian fought the urge to take a photo of the car -- unsure what the boundaries were in situations like this.

Ian's mystery man sauntered over to the driver's seat, exchanging a loaded handshake before switching places with the driver, who was apparently not Dimitri.

The passenger side window rolled down, revealing a bright red interior. "Coming, princess?"

Ian placed his suitcase in the backseat before hopping in the front himself.

"Do I ever get to know your name, princess?" Ian teased back. But he was genuinely curious.

The guy smirked, "Buckle up. I ain't slowing down for anything." And true to his word, they sped out of the parking lot, earning a few well-deserved horns from cars that they had cut off. Ian cringed.

--

Ian waited until they were on the interstate to speak again, not wanting to be the cause for an accident with this guy's hectic driving and the snow lightly falling on the road in front of them. Maybe he shouldn't be getting into cars with mysterious strangers. Maybe he should have thought of that before he did, in fact, get into a car with a mysterious stranger.

Ian decided to try again, "Ya know, if you don't tell me your name, I'm just going to start calling you something real stupid, like Bob or Cookie or Raven."

"Raven is actually kinda badass." The man replied, not taking his eyes off the road, but the side of his mouth quirking upward.

This guy was impossible, "Ugh."

"Ya know, you're kind of annoying for a passenger who should be grateful that I'm saving your ass. I could dump you on the side of the road, make you hitch hike all the way to Chicago or wherever the hell you end up. Probably some real weirdos out there wanting to pick up a pretty boy like you."

"Didn't ask to be saved." Ian blushed despite his best efforts to play it cool.

"No? So you were just following me all around the airport, why?" He glanced at Ian this time.

Yeah, he had a point. "Like I said, I got an interview I can't miss. My sister set it up for me and she would actually have my ass if I fucked this up. I'm talking like this-is-the-final-straw." Ian sighed, running his hands up and down his face.

"Hmm. You'll make it. I'm a good driver." He smirked. He lifted his hand off the wheel as if he were about to touch Ian's shoulder or something, but decided against it at the last second.

"Good and fast are not equivalent." Ian's breath hitched.

"Says you." The guy drummed his fingers.

"Says most people. And probably the cops." Ian was not about to spend a night in the slammer.

"Fuck the cops." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah."

The conversation died down and a rock ballad lulled over the car's exquisite sound system. Damn, this was a nice car.

"Mickey." The guy murmured, barely audible over the bass.

"What?" Like the mouse?

"My name's Mickey, by the way." He glanced over at Ian.

Oh. "Kinda badass." Ian returned with eye contact a smirk.

Mickey smiled at the road ahead of them.

--

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." Mickey called out from the driver's seat, patting Ian's shoulder. Ian could have sworn Mickey's hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, but maybe he was just reading into the interaction.

Ian must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive, because now they were parking in the parking lot of a diner. Red neon lights highlighted the exterior, giving the place a sultry vibe. Odd vibe for an off-the-road diner, but Ian supposed it could be weirder.

Mickey hopped out of the car and shoved his hands into the pocket in his leather jacket, searching for something.

After a moment, Ian slowly stretched his legs out as he crawled out of the car and found Mickey smoking a cigarette while leaning against the hood of the car. It was picture perfect. Mickey hadn't noticed him emerge yet, so Ian decided to give into his urges as he snapped a picture of the beautiful man in front of him -- all black shadows and glowing red.

Ian closed the car door and Mickey stubbed out his cigarette and led them inside. "Usual table," he said to the hostess, who led them to a table set for two towards the back of the establishment.

Yeah, this was weird. Who the fuck had a 'usual table' at a joint off the highway in the middle of nowhere?

Inside hung the heads of exotic animals that Ian hoped were fake. Once they were sat across from each other, Mickey ordered a short stack of pancakes and Ian ordered a hamburger and fries -- the first thing he saw on the menu.

"So, brunch and tigers? What is this place?" Ian mused, curiosity and now suspicion overtaking him.

"Cool, huh? Got connections." Mickey went back to rearranging the condiments and sugars on their table.

"Mhm." Ian was skeptical, but didn't want to pry. He seemed to be on this guy's good side for now.

Ian spent the better part of their stay just taking in everything around them. The walls were lined with playing cards, posters from bands he's never heard of, bizarre news articles, lights swung and tacked up with a casual precision, literal jewelry and crowns under display cases, and he could've sworn there was sparkles mixed into the red paint covering the walls. It was like a goblin's cave or something.

Occasionally, he would look up at Mickey, who would look away almost instantly -- like he'd been caught in the middle of something. Planning something? Ian couldn't tell if Mickey's cheeks were actually blushing red or if it was just the lighting. Probably for the best because Ian blushed like a motherfucker whenever he held Mickey's eyes for too long.

Luckily, the waitress brought over their food before Ian could say something stupid. Ian's hamburger and fries were places in a classic red boat with black and white checkered paper. The burger was massive and had a flamingo pick placed in the center of it. Mickey's pancakes were covered in bananas, blueberries, and powdered sugar. The waitress also set down a glass elephant bottle filled with, what looked like, maple syrup. The waitress just smiled at them and walked away without another word. This place was strange. And Ian couldn't shake that feeling.

About halfway through eating, Ian had enough of the odd vibes and promptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. He had to get out of here, forgo his luggage in the fancy ass car. He didn't care if he'd have to hitch hike at this point. He washed his hands in the bathroom sink, planning when to make his escape, when the door swung open.

"Ian." Mickey looked genuinely concerned. No stupid nickname. Ian. "What's wrong, man? You looked pretty sick back there. Is it food poisoning? I'll give Anakin a fuckin' piece of my mind if he didn't cook that fuckin' burger. He knows better than to fuck with me." He rattled off.

Ian felt flighty and tried to take off during Mickey's rage-induced ramble but an arm gripped his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, Ian, look at me." That was the problem. Ian couldn't stop looking at him. He would probably do anything he asked. And that was fucking dangerous. He was a stranger with connections. That couldn't lead to anything good.

Ian finally made eye contact and the grip on his arm loosened, gently sliding towards his wrist before falling back to Mickey's side.

"Promise me you won't kill me." Ian blurted out.

Mickey's eyebrows nearly flew off his face, "Kill you? Where the fuck is this coming from? You think I hate you or something?"

"Well, maybe, I don't know. This is weird."

"Maybe." Mickey paused, actually making an effort to see this whole strange situation from Ian's perspective. "But I like weird."

Ian stayed silent.

"I promise I'm not going to kill you. I promise that I'm going to get you back to Chicago for your interview. I promise we're all good, okay?"

The tension in Ian's shoulder's visibly relaxed and he released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. But that confession still doesn't explain this weird excursion.

"Why does everyone here know you?" Ian finally asked, swallowing his nerves.

This was not a conversation for the men's bathroom, but here they were anyways.

Mickey looked a bit embarrassed. "Used to live a few towns over with my ex-wife-"

"Ex-wife?" Ian nearly choked.

"Svetlana. Fuckin' disaster. But I used to come here with my son, Yev, on special occasions when his mom was out. He always loved it -- thought he was the king or some shit."

"Oh."

"Don't see the kid as much anymore, but this place still has the best fuckin' pancakes so we go when we can."

"So this isn't a sting operation to kidnap me?"

Mickey rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot. I actually happen to like you."

"Yeah, me too."

"So glad you like yourself, champ."

"Oh, fuck me." Ian groaned.

"Maybe later." Mickey smiled too sweetly for someone who had just insinuated what they had.

They returned to their table, finishing off what they could. Mickey had insisted he pay for both of their meals -- reparation for nearly giving Ian a heart attack and fleeing off to fucking Mexico or something. The waitress collected their tab and walked away with a wink, "Have fun tonight, boys."

"See ya 'round, Geneva." Mickey called, "Always in my fuckin' business." But Ian could tell it was meant with nothing but fondness.

Mickey held gave a two finger salute to the hostess on his way out before holding the lion-studded doors and turning to face Ian, "We're in this together, yeah?"

"Yeah."

--

Ian didn't fall asleep in the car this time. Instead, they played the license plate game and carried impersonal conversation in between stops at gas stations and fast food restaurants.

--

"Books or movies?" Ian read from his phone.

"What kind of fuckin' question is that?"

"From the online list you made me look up!"

"Yeah, because you suck at coming up with questions!"

"Whatever. Books or movies?"

"Movies, duh."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't like books? When was the last time you even read a book?"

Mickey flipped him off, "What about you, smartass? You prefer books over movies?"

"Well, no..."

"Well, exactly."

--

"Cats or dogs?" Ian asked. "I've never had either, but dogs are cool."

"Yeah, 'cause you act like one."

Ian gasped, mocking an expression of hurt. "I bet you're a dog person, though."

"Yeah, why're you so sure about that?"

"They're all tough and shit."

"I got a cat back home. She's tougher than any dog I know."

"What's her name?"

"Indy."

"Aw, softy."

"It's short for Indica, clearly we're cool."

Ian gave an even more exaggerated "Aww."

"Shut up, next question."

--

They had missed the worst of the winter storm that had threatened their flight and gotten them in this situation to begin with. It was starting to get dark and while Mickey assured Ian that he could drive through the night, Ian insisted they could stop at a hotel and still make it back before his interview. Truthfully, he didn't want to be involved in a luxury car crash with a maybe Russian mobster. He couldn't pinpoint Mickey, but that's what he had currently decided on.

They had pulled off into the lot of a pink hotel. Mickey had gotten them two rooms, side-by-side. Instead of going up to his room and passing out like Ian had expected, Mickey headed straight towards the hotel bar -- ordering a mojito and a vodka tonic and making friendly talk with the waitress in a very low cut red shirt like they were old friends. Mickey was nothing like Ian expected.

Ian headed up to his room to drop off his suitcase and call Fiona back, sure she was going to disown him right then and there for avoiding her calls all day.

--

Ian opted against going down to the bar and instead watched reruns on the hotel tv. Alcohol didn't really mix well with his meds and he didn't want a hangover if they were going to be in a car all day tomorrow -- especially a nice car like that. Yeah, he wasn't puking in that anytime soon if he could help it.

He took a long, hot shower, indulging in the hotel's eucalyptus-scented body wash before settling in for the night.

Ian was resting peacefully until he heard a blood-curdling scream next door. Mickey was next door. Mickey.

Ian leapt out of bed, grabbing nothing but his shirt before frantically knocking on Mickey's door. C'mon Mickey, don't be dead. C'mon. C'mon.

Mickey swung open the door rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Ian?"

"Uh, hi. I heard screaming. Just making sure you're not being murdered."

"Shit, yeah. I get night terrors sometimes. I meant to mention that to you, but it must have slipped my mind after a few drinks. Didn't see you down there?"

"I called it an early night," Ian replied guiltily. He felt bad if Mickey was waiting for him. But he didn't know.

"Yeah... anything else?" Mickey looked Ian up and down. Ian was suddenly hyper aware he was standing in front of Mickey in only his boxers.

"Um, no." Ian glanced around nervously.

"Great." Mickey shut the door. Whatever. Ian turned to open his door, but it wouldn't open. He searched his pants for the key card only to be reminded that he was not, in fact, wearing pants. Fucking great indeed.

Ian knocked on Mickey's door again.

"What?" He grumbled with a tooth pick between his teeth. "'m not fuckin' screamin' anymore."

"I locked myself out."

"Of course you did." Mickey rubbed a hand down his face, "You ain't goin' down to the front desk in your underwear and I'm not goin' down there either so it looks like you can either come with me or sleep in the hallway, your choice."

Some choice.

Ian followed Mickey into his room, the same layout as Ian's -- just mirrored. Mickey tossed a blanket at him and then collapsed back into the pillows himself.

Ian tried to make himself comfortable on the ground but all he was going to do was bruise his fuckin' spine and freeze his ass off because apparently Mickey likes to sleep in Antarctica.

"Fuckin' cold." Ian mumbled, cocooned in his one tiny hotel-grade blanket that hardly covered his long body.

Mickey didn't open his eyes, but he lifted the comforter on the bed, "Get in here, Frosty."

Ian hesitated. But he was really fucking cold. He made sure not to touch Mickey at all as he crawled under the covers, laying as still as he could on the edge of the mattress. Mickey sighed and scooted his back into Ian's chest, grabbed Ian's arm, and draped it around his waist. "There."

Ian was still for a moment before settling into the warmth.

"Mickey." He said softly. He wasn't even sure if Mickey had heard him.

"What?"

"Is that your real name? Mickey?"

Mickey sighed, "Mikhailo."

"Hmm. I like Mikhailo. It's like Mick-halo, like you're an angel."

"Baby, you've met me. There ain't nothing good about me. I'm more like the devil."

"Why's that?"

"Dude, I almost knifed you when we first met."

"I had that coming, though."

"Maybe so."

"Is that all?"

"Fuckin' terrorized my neighborhood as a kid."

"Me too, you ain't special. Got anything else?"

"I'm a raging homo."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Me too. Anything else?"

"Can't do enough for my own kid."

Ian was quiet so Mickey continued.

"Svet won't keep him in Chicago where my job is. I don't wanna be the asshole to choose work over my kid, but I can't just up and leave, either."

"Yeah, but it sounds like you visit him a lot. He must know you love him, though. Bet you're a better father than mine."

"Yeah, mine too. Ain't hard to beat. He's a real dick. I don't wanna be anything like that piece of shit."

Ian squeezing his grip around Mickey's waist. "You're not. I'm still betting you're all things good."

"Hmm."

"Guess we'll just have to see."

"Guess so."

A moment passed before Mickey spoke again.

"Go to sleep, stupid."

"Goodnight, Mick-halo."

Ian nestled his head into Mickey's hair, smelling the eucalyptus on his as well. The two not-strangers drifted off together.

--

Ian woke up after Mickey, who was already packing up his oddly tiny back pack again. And Ian's suitcase. He took a moment to recall last night's events.

"How the fuck did you get that?"

"Morning to you, too." Mickey tossed a prepacked muffin at Ian's half asleep body. "Went to the front desk for a spare key after continental breakfast, duh. Eat up, we're leaving in 10."

Ian groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He felt a weight on the mattress beside him. He peeked from behind the blanket to see that Mickey had sat down and was currently staring at his legs? Ass? Who knew. Turns out 'thighs' was the correct answer as he set his hand on the outer part of Ian's right thigh. Just resting it there for a moment before getting up.

"Fine, we're leaving in 15."

Satisfied, Ian closed his eyes for a few minutes, feeling the ghost of Mickey on his leg. He was so warm. It was like his heart was on fire.

--

They ended up leaving 10 minutes after Mickey's initial 15 were up. But it wasn't Ian's fault that there was a hold-up at the front desk. Something about a scheduling conflict between a drag show and a speech contest. Hell, Mickey thought they should combine the two events and call it a day.

Back in the car, Mickey had some upbeat indie music playing this morning while they circled around the old town to find a gas station.

"Ya want anything?" Mickey asked before he turned away from the pump and towards the building, patting down his ass to make sure he had his wallet.

Ian was distracted by the patting for a moment before replying. "Uh, maybe a Gatorade or something?"

Mickey tapped the hood of the car twice instead of replying verbally, but the message was received nonetheless.

Ian pulled up the picture he had taken yesterday of Mickey in front of the bizarre diner, moments before he thought he was being hunted for sport. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

After a moment, the driver's side door swung open, "Whatcha lookin' at, Smiles? Texting your girlfriend?" Mickey teased as he closed the gas tank and hopped in with a coffee balancing in one hand and three different flavors of Gatorade in the other.

"Nothing." Damn, Ian. Like that ain't an obvious lie.

"Ain't nothing, lemme see." Mickey took Ian's phone and dropped the Gatorades on his lap.

"Ouch! Well, thanks -- for these -- but give me my phone back!"

"Is that me?"

No sense in lying now. He was literally looking at it. "Uh, yeah. Thought it looked cool."

"That's dope as fuck, man. Send that shit to me, I wanna post it on my Instagram."

Ian certainly hadn't expected that response. But when had Mickey ever been what he expected?

"I don't have your number." And he wasn't asking for his number like some school girl. Mickey had literally requested he send him something. Ian had no idea why he felt so ridiculously nervous.

"Gimme." Mickey made grabby hands for the phone and began to plug in his number before Ian realized that this definitely counted as distracted driving in a very nice car. "Done."

Done.

--

The morning and afternoon went by pretty quickly. Mickey sang along to some pop songs while drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Ian took some photos of the inside of the car, earning some light teasing from Mickey. Shut up, this might be my only time in a car worth more than ten grand.

Ian watched the highway and the grass blurring past his window when he suddenly remembered the small notepad and pen he had swiped from Mickey's hotel room.

Mickey looked pretty distracted, so Ian took it out and began to sketch his profile. The man was too beautiful. He couldn't help himself. With a burst of confidence, he added a note to it before ripping the page out and sticking it in the side pocket of Mickey's back pack. If Mickey saw him, he didn't say anything -- for once -- and Ian was glad for that.

--

They were nearing Illinois state lines, so they had to get into travel specifics. Ian gave him the address to his apartment. Both being Southside, Mickey knew the area well enough that he wouldn't need directions until last minute.

Ian figured now was as good as time as any to ask, "What are you doing in Chicago?"

Mickey made a face like he was thinking about how much he wanted to explain to Ian. "Well, for one, I live there. Second, you've seen my tattoos right?" He held out his knuckles reading FUCK U-UP. Ian nodded and Mickey relaxed one hand back onto the steering wheel before continuing, "Tattoos were a family ritual. I help my brothers on runs when they need it -- those idiots can't plan for shit by themselves. Makes good money though. I also work part-time at this high-end restaurant downtown. Satisfies my sister that I have a legit job. Ain't too bad either. Lotta sketchy shit goes on, though, but they know I'm good to look the other way for a low low price." He grinned.

"Damn, you sure are something," Ian mused.

"Yup yup. What about you hot-shot? What's the whole deal with this interview?"

Ian sighed. "Never finished high school and uh, I have a mood disorder thing so a lot of places won't even consider me. Got fired from my last job for snapping at the dickhead manager --which was well-deserved by the way -- but still stupid. My sister, Fiona, got me this interview with the magazine company she works for -- she thinks I'm so sick like our mother and that if I don't have a job to keep me stable that I'll just fuck off. But the job would be really cool because I've been into photography and shit since like forever. I don't know, it's stupid. But I really just can't stand to let anyone down again, because I am better. They just don't always believe me."

Mickey frowned, and Ian worried he shared too much. But then Mickey rested his hand on Ian's thigh, "Hey, man. That sounds cool. But it's okay to not be okay. Just be honest with me, and I believe you. Promise?"

"Promise."

--

Ian's apartment was in sight before he knew it. It was starting to get dark out, but he would still be able to get a good night's sleep before his interview in the morning. Mickey's car definitely did not belong in his neighborhood. It stood out like a sore thumb. He couldn't stay for long if he wanted to leave with the car in tact.

Mickey helped Ian get his suitcase out of the backseat and then leaned against the car, watching Ian with a strange look in his eye. Before Ian could ask, Mickey stalked over to him and leaned up, and pressed his lip's against Ian's. He smelled so sweet. It wasn't the eucalyptus shampoo either -- that had long faded. This was just pure Mickey. Mikhailo.

The moment was over too soon and Ian groaned. Mickey gently patted his cheek, "Don't worry, big guy, you ain't gettin' rid of me this easy. I'll see you soon."

"Soon." Ian repeated back, still a bit dazed in the head.

Mickey smirked as he hopped back into the jaguar and sped off to wherever the fuck it is that Mickey goes.

Ian lugged his bag upstairs, unlocked his door, and plopped down on the couch.

Soon.

--

After texting Fiona one last time, Ian had turned his phone off to avoid any distractions. Giving in to the urge to text Mickey would definitely be a distraction. He needed routine. At least for tonight.

It was a relatively quiet night in terms of activities. He had microwaved a frozen dinner and watched a couple episodes of Schitt's Creek before taking his meds, brushing his teeth, and heading to bed.

No matter how chill of a night he was planning on having, his mind kept racing with thoughts of Mickey with everything he did. That man was so cool and funny and kind, even if he didn't believe it himself. Ian didn't know what exactly had caused such a reign of self-doubt over him, but they would talk about it someday. Ian wanted him to see how good he was. Mickey just brought long-vanished excitement to Ian's life again. He trusted him and cared for him. And he missed him. They had only spent two days together, but Ian couldn't imagine sleeping without him. He drifted off to sleep thinking about what Mickey would look like in his bed with him.

Ian had gotten up at his first alarm for once and arrived to the interview 15 minutes early. He was genuinely passionate about this job so it was easy to turn up his charm. He would hear a call back later that afternoon, but given that he was pretty sure Fiona was sleeping with his would-be boss's boss, he was almost certain he would get the job.

Ian finally turned his phone on when he got home. One message from Fiona -- reminding him of the interview. But more importantly, three from Mickey. He immediately clicked on Mickey's name, absolutely no use in playing it cool anymore. He couldn't get him out of his head.

Mickey (9:27pm): *image attachment*

Mickey (9:27pm): found this in my bag, i wonder how it got there🤔

Mickey (7:32am): good luck at your interview! hope it was worth literally dragging your ass across the country for

Ian smiled.

Ian (10:06am): I have absolutely no idea how that drawing got there. Maybe trolls? 😇

Ian (10:07am): And your luck helped! I think the interviewer liked me :)

Mickey (10:07am): hopefully he didnt like you too much

Ian (10:09am): SHE liked me a very healthy amount.

Mickey (10:10am): gonna keep it that way

Ian (10:12am): 🙄 Oh Mick. Can't be jealous over something you don't have.

Mickey (10:15am): i have you right where i want you dont you worry your pretty little head

Ian (10:17am): So you think I'm pretty is what I'm hearing?

Mickey (10:18am): i think your annoying go away

Ian (10:19am): I thought I couldn't get rid of you that easy?

Mickey (10:19am): changed my fucking mind

--

Their texting banter came to a halt when Mickey picked up a shift at his legitimate job. Ian unpacked his ratty old suitcase and cleaned up his apartment while he waited for his phone to ring. From the job... from Mickey.

--

Right when he was switching loads of laundry, his phone rang. It would be a lie if he said he didn't drop everything and run.

It was his new boss him on his new job. He couldn't hold back his grin as he immediately texted Mickey, then Fiona. He was proud of himself.

Fiona called and they chatted about the job -- omitting the part where he assumed she was sleeping with the boss -- and Ian's road trip -- omitting the part where he kissed his once assumed kidnapper -- and then about Fiona's kids and Carl's lately stunt. He was so invested in his little criminal brother that he almost didn't hear the knock at his door.

"Fi, I gotta call you back. I think I have a delivery or something." Ian wasn't expecting anything.

Ian nearly leapt backwards when he cautiously opened his door (there were no damn peepholes in his building) to find Mickey waiting on his doormat with a grin on his face. "Congrats on the job, man!"

"Oh my God. You're here?"

"Yeah, I told you I would see you soon. I'm a man of my word. And I brought cupcakes." Always the unexpected. "Well minus one. I didn't know which apartment was yours and I went to your neighbor's first and he wouldn't tell me where you lived without a fuckin' cupcake. Greedy asshole." He murmured, quietly smiting the old bastard.

"Mickey." Ian smiled, eyes crinkling with it. "You're good. You're so good."

[eleanorbloom]

Marry My Lover (Bryce x Eleanor Proposal Headcanon)

A/N: Well, I thought I wouldn't do it because I was too invested with this fic, but I've been thinking adult life is so fucking hard that maybe I'll never find the time and inspo to finish this fic, so... well, why not realease it to the world as headcanon/very-poorly-written-fic. If later I find the inspo, maybe I'll write it, maybe not, but I think posting this will lift a heavy weight off me.

Please forgive me my grammar mistakes and poor english, I mean, I know it's not poor, but I went really basic here, other way I would've never finished writing this lol

Tagging my WYR readers, in case you're interested in reading this @curiousconch @romereadingshop @utterlyinevitable @lahellacute @chocopeppermintcake

Also this is sumbission for @openheartfanfics Weekly Trope Challenge, week 2: Weddings & Proposals (@openheartheadcanons)

Marry My Lover

Bryce had wanted to propose to Eleanor for a while, considering both spontaneous and prepared ways to do it.

One of the first ideas was proposing on a visit to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, as it was the place of their first date. But none of their shifts let them assist for a couple of weeks, so he decided to look for something less complicated.

As he saw their annual meeting with the gang was coming, he decided he would propose on that occasion. Surrounded by friends, the people who helped them get together and supported them in the most difficult times both personally and as a couple.

So he would propose at Donahue’s. With a song, no less. Marry Me by Bruno Mars. A cheerful song, Eleanor loved Bruno Mars and simply matched with the tone he wanted to have on the proposal. Happy and spectacular. He wanted to make her feel the luckiest, most loved woman on earth.

So when he decided what he would do, he shared the news with Sienna so she could help him orchestrate the event. He would arrive a bit later than Eleanor, Sienna would keep her distracted, and then whoop, Bryce would appear at the center of the bar singing the song.

On the day of the meeting, Bryce was in the locker room when he received a text from Sienna: “All set, B! We’re waiting for you”. He breathed deeply, excited and a bit nervous at the same time.

They had talked about marriage, about a life together thousands of times, but it was different just taking the step and doing it, of proposing marriage. Marriage. Damn.

But at the same time, it was just a confirmation of the love they had for each other. Their love that had grown exponentially, to unknown highs and depths in the three years they had been together, and he was sure that their love would keep growing and getting stronger with each day.

After getting ready, he texted Keiki: “Hey Keiks, are you there already?” “Oh, yeah, hidden in the parking lot, super spy.” “Awesome, I’m coming out of the locker room I’ll be there in five” “Okay”

Bryce didn’t want her to miss it for the world. Keiki would kill him if he let that happen. Luckily for both Bryce and Keiki, she was studying close to home, more than close. Cambridge. BS in Physics at MIT, so as she was living just a few minutes away from Boston, they saw each other pretty regularly, once a week or once every two weeks depending on how busy the three were.

Keiki was excited about it, but there was just this strange smirk on her. Bryce thought it was just the fact that her brother would propose to Eleanor at last.

Once at the bar, he greeted their friends, Elijah, coming from Chicago, Jackie, from Baltimore, and Sienna coming from New York. Aurora was the only one living in Boston, working at Brigham and Women’s Hospital as attending and part of the new Diagnostic Team there.

Everyone was happy but at the same time with this strange smirk, like they were hiding something.

“And Elle?” he asked.

A few moments after the question was made, a guitar started to play. He looked at the center of the bar, and found Eleanor, on a yellow dress, and matched hatband playing guitar and singing: We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January And this is our place, we make the rules And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

Bryce couldn’t believe his eyes. His ears. His skin. How a shiver ran down his spine, making tingle every inch of him; how his stomach fluttered at the sight of her there, beautiful and singing and… Surprising him.

It was Lover by Taylor Swift, because, how not, his girlfriend was a Swiftie since High School, so once a Swiftie, always a Swiftie.

Bryce knew almost every song of the last two albums she had released in the last couple of years because they had blasted the speakers of their home for weeks. Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close? Forever and ever, ah Take me out, and take me home You're my, my, my, my lover

After singing the chorus, Eleanor handed the guitar to Rafael, who continued with the melody, and took the mic in one hand, singing the second verse as she started walking slowly towards him. We could let our friends crash in the living room This is our place, we make the call She took his hand on hers and softly pulled him to the center of the bar

And when Eleanor sang “And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you”, both chuckled knowingly, because they knew how true that was, wherever he goes, he enchants.

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

It had been three summers indeed and nor he or she couldn’t imagine a summer without each other.

Eleanor kept singing, every word with meaning, it was like the song was written for them, especially “I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover” Because who else on this planet was a magnetic force but him?

Bryce was beaming the whole song, smiling, laughing, biting his lip, showing how happy, flattered, incredulous and in love he was.

He couldn’t believe his luck. To this day, after more than three years, sometimes he still couldn’t believe he had the chance to love so much and be so loved. So happy, so free, so understood. And he would probably live this luck, this love, forever and ever with her.

When the song ended, Eleanor took out something from the pocket of her yellow dress. A velvet box. When she opened it, a silver ring with a diamond at the center shined under the multicolor lights of the bar. Eleanor took his hand in hers and kissed his knuckles softly before asking: “Bryce Lahela, mi amor, we both know we want to spend the rest of our lives together. In these three years you have made me nothing but happy. The happiest luckiest woman alive. I want that for the rest of our lives. Would you marry me?”

“Yes,” he said, eyes sparkling, shining so bright with emotions, with love, with adoration, with happiness, “Yes, babe, yes! The only thing I want is to spend the rest of my life with you!”

Everyone cheered, Sienna was crying, Kyra too, and even Keiki had shed a tear.

Eleanor put a ring on his finger and both kissed sweetly in the middle of the bar.

After a few moments, Bryce kissed her hand and chuckled, “Well, now it’s my turn.”

Eleanor stared confused at him, and when she heard him shouting “Música maestro!” she understood.

Eleanor couldn't believe it either. When the notes of Marry Me by Bruno Mars started playing, she covered her mouth with her hands just like Cecilia Bolocco when she won Miss Universe in 1986. “No way, love!” she squealed.

After a few verses, Bryce took her hand and turned her to the wall, where a video was playing. Videos of colleagues, nurses, even patients, with thumbs up singing along “Don't say no, no, no, no, no, Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah” Then, her parents showed up in the video, beaming as they sang along too. Even her grandparents from Chile, Ricardo and Ofelia, appeared in the video asking the same.” “Oh my god,” Eleanor couldn't hold it anymore and simply let the tears fall. Tears of joy, of happiness.

Then Bryce started to walk around the bar, singing with a persuasive tone, asking the patrons to join him in his singing, as if he had to convince her to marry him. Friendly patrons would nod and show their thumbs up and sing along for a couple of seconds.

Once the song ended, Bryce bend on one knee and took the velvet box out of the pocket of his pants, where a beautiful rose gold ring was there, with a round diamond at the center and smaller at the sides. “Well, you won me. This was my idea too, but you were faster, or maybe you had friends who took your side and decided to help you instead of me.” Everyone chuckled. “Or maybe she just asked before you did,” Jackie teased. “Either way, I’m honored and flattered, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity to propose to you. I mean, I’ve dreamed about this day practically since I met you.” “Awww, mi amor.” “I want all summers with you and all winters, especially winters so you can keep me warm on snowy nights.” Eleanor giggled, her eyes full of tenderness, “Of course, my love. Summer, fall, winter, spring, all of the seasons and all of the years I have left on this planet.” “Good. And you, Eleanor Andrea Bloom, would you marry me?” “Yes, my love, mi amor, sí, sí, yes!” Bryce put the ring on her finger, and again, people cheered and clapped. Keiki and Jackie whistled.

When Bryce and Eleanor got off the stage, the gang approached them, filling them with congratulations and hugs, and just love for the happy, recently-engaged couple. they disclosed how everything had happened -Eleanor indeed had asked help first, she had been practicing guitar for more than a month with the help of Rafael.

After a while, Bryce took Eleanor’s hand and led her to a quiet place so they could have a moment for themselves. They smiled and laughed without saying anything, still processing what had happened and trying to understand the happiness they were feeling. their hearts were simply overflowing with happiness and love. “You know? I can say people, mostly women, have asked me a lot of things in my life, some of them shocking, some of them rather cute, but never had a woman proposing to me, so this is a first. You're definitely a keeper.” “Oh, that's why you're agreeing to marry me?” she asked, feigning offense. “One of the four hundred million reasons, babe.” Eleanor smiled pensively, earnest, “You deserve everything, my love, everything. And that includes being proposed, because, damn, we’re too far from gender stereotypes and toxic masculinity.” “I agree.” “And because I really wanted you to know that I wanna marry you, and spend the rest of my life with you, just as much as you do.”

Completely spellbound by the sincerity of her love, now and always, Bryce simply bit his lip and leaned to plant a sweet kiss on her lips.

There was nothing else to do but be happy.

____

Ps: Here pics of Bryce and Eleanor engagement rings. I had the idea of a collage, but it would've also taken me a day to finish it, lol sorry

Thank you for reading! ❤

[jaysevhls]

Be Careful | Christopher Herrmann

Request: could you do a herrmann imagine where the reader is his daughter who recently became 51s new candidate, and she’s a really good firefighter but gets badly hurt on a call and he’s worried and then in the hospital after she wakes up they talk and he says how proud he is of her or something soft like that?

Pairing: Christopher Herrmann x Daughter!Reader / Chicago Fire

Warnings: Injuries.

Author's note: Hi, from now requests are open again. If you have some suggestions for imagines about Halloween or something, feel free to ask❤️ All of the requests I got before will be posted in this and next week. I'm so sorry for taking this that long, but I have a hard time and school is making it only worse, I hope you understand.

Working with your dad wasn't the kind of thing you have always wanted. You were sure that life will bring you something unexpected, but you never imagined working in Chicago Fire Department at the same station with your dad. To be honest, it was awesome. You always had him by your side, you knew how his day went, you understood him like no one. Sometimes things were rough, especially when engine wasn't on the scene and he couldn't see how you're doing on the truck. From the first day he treated you like his colleague, he knew that he can't put his feelings over job, because that's the only way to get distracted. He trusted you, more than everything, especially when Casey was your capitan and always had your back.

You didn't like brining work to home, just like him, that's why your mom never pushed you to talk about hard call. This thing in your family worked pretty well.

"Hey dad, I was thinking, maybe you should go with mom tonight to the theatre or something? I can watch kids." you walked into break room after first call in the day.

"Uh, what's on your mind and how much money do you want?" he asked you.

"What? No, I just thought that you haven't been on a date for such a long time and now, when I got the night off I can stay with them." you hugged him from behind. He closed the newspaper and turned to look at you. He looked kinda confused and for sure, he didn't believe you. "Okay, if you don't want, you're staying with kids and I'm taking mom for a girl's night."

"Oh no no, that's not gonna happen, when you'll pick them?"

"I'll come home for a night. Gallo? What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing, why?"

"You'll help me with my siblings, you owe me!" you said and walked out to the bathroom.

You stripped from your clothes and got to the shower. It was one of those day when after a case you're glad that everything in your life is going that way. You were happy, that was a sure thing. Even if something was missing, you couldn't notice that, because every single day you were surrounded by people who love you like a family member.

After you finish, you changed into fresh clothes, it was worthless after all, cause in every minute you could get a signal that you need to go, but comfort first.

You went back into break room, took some coffee and sat next to Christopher.

You were helping solving him the crossword.

"Herrmann, can I talk to you for a second?" Severide asked.

"Which one?" you and your dad asked in the same time.

"Not this time Y/N." you looked at him confused. Your father made his way to Kelly and looked kinda worried.

"So, I don't know how much things Y/N has told you but I'm sure you wanna know about this." you couldn't hear much of the conversation and you're glad, because it wasn't a right thing to listen to them, even if deep down you knew that conversation was about you.

"What do you mean Kelly? Something happened?"

"No no, everything is fine I think, it's just... Y/N applied to join the squad after finishing her being a candidate." now your dad looked confused and heartbroken?

"She never brought that around me. I thought that she's feeling okay on the truck."

"Yeah me too, but you need to know that I'm going to agree on this apply. She's an amazing firefighter and it would be nice to have her in squad. Besides, women know better, she would be really great. Don't worry, I'll always have her back, just like Casey did." Severide said.

"Yeah, thanks."

You finished your coffee and just in time you hard the alarm.

Quickly, you fixed your hair and got your uniform.

"Hey, Y/N? I heard that you want to join the Squad, congratulations." Casey said.

"Yeah, but... It's not a sure thing yet. I just really want to try, I hope you don't mind. I love being on the truck, but you know."

"Don't you dare think like this kiddo. I'm so proud of you and I'll always support you. You'll be great."

"Thank you, but please, don't tell my dad yet, I need to have this conversation with him on my own."

"Sure thing." he said. You looked at all the members in the truck. They were so happy that someone like you were with them, serving to the city and country. Gallo hugged you from the right side, while Mouch from the left.

"Okay guys, that's enough, you're gonna kill me with those hugs." you laughed.

You arrived on the scene and walked out of the truck. Casey gave you an order to stay behind him and to follow his movements.

The fire was spreading quickly, you saw a young woman running from the building.

"M-y my kids are in there, please, please help us..." she managed to say after she collapsed on the ground. You help Sylvie taking her to the ambo. Casey called you right after.

"Mask up guys, we're going on the second floor, Squad, you take the basement, engine cover us." you put your mask on and followed Matt. Stella and Blake were right behind you, calling and searching for people.

"Fire department, call out!" you yelled. Casey gave you an order to turn into right side while he and Stella will go on the left.

"The smoke is too dark, I barely see anything." Gallo said.

"Yeah me too, it's gonna collapse soon, we need to hurry." you answered, when you heard the loud crash and all you felt was a pain in your whole body. You couldn't breathe. Gallo was screaming your name and calling for backup.

"Mayday, mayday, Y/N Herrmann is down, the building just collapsed, she's on the first floor but her mask fell off, we need help."

Herrmann was standing with Boden next to the truck, helping with injuried people, while he heard Blake into his radio.

He couldn't think straight, he couldn't focus on what was happening.

Boden was holding him, because he couldn't let him go in there when building wasn't stable. After few minutes which last like hours, he saw Casey, Kidd, Gallo and Cruz walking out with you, while Severide held his mask at your face. You were unconscious and your head was bleeding.

"Guys, right here!" Sylvie yelled. They brought you on the stretcher. "She's not breathing and the pulse is weak."

Casey pulled your dad to let paramedics do their job. He was crying, but couldn't manage to say anything.

"Is-. She- she is okay? What happened? Casey, you promised to look after her." he asked.

"Hey, Herrmann. She was doing her job. I ordered her and Gallo to search that place, the floor wasn't stable and it collapsed. She has a broken leg and probably her arm is dislocated. They're taking her to Med, go with them." Herrmann made his way to the ambo. The whole ride was silent, his heart broke more after your heart stopped twice on the way.

"I can't loose you princess, please." he cried.

"She's tough, she's gonna be okay." Brett hugged him.

Hours passed by and nothing was said. They didn't know what was going on with you, you were in surgery for almost 4 hours.

"Casey? I'm sorry for what I said before. It wasn't your fault, I overreacted." your father said.

"It's okay, I get it."

"Herrmann?" Dr. Halstead appeared in the hall.

"How's she? Is she okay?"

"She's out of the surgery. She had a opened break on the leg, but everything is fine now. Also, she had a pretty bad head injury, but for now, we don't know if this caused any damages. We need to wait until she'll wake up.

"Can I see her?" he asked. Hall was filled with relief and some kind of happiness. You were alive and that was the only thing that matters.

"Yes, of course."

Herrmann walked into your room. When he saw all of those tubes and machines, his heart just broke. It all caused a painful flashbacks of his memories when he was stabbed. He took your hand and kissed it.

He spent almost 6 hours next to you, because he wanted to be with you when you wake up. Your mom was there too. She brought him fresh clothes and something to eat.

"D-dad?" he immediately woke up.

"Hey honey, I'm right here." he helped you with taking piece of hair of your face.

"What happened? Where am I?" you asked.

"Rough call you would said. Listen Y/N, I'm so sorry that I wasn't there, maybe if-"

"Dad, please stop. It's okay, I'm fine, hey. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere soon."

"Mom is here too, but I told her to get some coffee for us, I'll go to tell her that you woke up, should I get the nurse too? Maybe dr. Halstead? Are you in pain?"

"Dad, sit down, now. I'm okay, really."

"Oh sweetie. I'm so glad that you're okay. When I saw you, when they took you... I was so afraid that I'm gonna loose you. But deep down I knew... I knew that you're one of the kind, my daughter, who will handle everything on her own. I knew that you're gonna make it, you're so tough. I couldn't be more proud babygirl. I'm so happy that I'm the one who you call dad." he cried. You showed him to come closer and you hugged him tightly.

"Oh my god, baby, you woke up!" now Cindy walked into your room. You all hugged and stayed like this for couple of minutes.

"Um, right. Y/N, your mom and I need to tell you something."

"Please don't make me want to almost die again, are you pregnant?" they laughed.

"No, oh god no. We wanted to tell you that we're so excited that you want to join the squad."

"What? But how? I swear I'll beat his ass."

"Severide told me yesterday. He's so happy to have you there and we're too. You need to know that no matter what, we'll always support you sweetheart. We love you."

"I love you too."

[wayward-riana]

Bun In The Oven | Jay Halstead

Summary : The reader passes out scaring Jay and the rest of the crew, only to find out that a bundle of joy is on it's way.

Requested by : @fofisstilinski

Warnings : None.

"All right, team. Good job. Now get the hell out of here and leave me in peace." Voight grumbles as he closes the door to his office.

Everyone arranges their desk and grabs their coat, ready to get the hell out and call it a night. Y/N sits down in her chair, rubbing her temples. Everything seemed blurry to her for a moment. She felt really dizzy. She told herself it was because of the very stressful case they worked on, earlier today.

"Hey, you okay?" Jay frowns as he sees the love of his life sitting helplessly in her chair.

"Yeah, don't worry. I'm all right," She offers him a tired smile. "Just tired, that's all."

Jay takes her hand in his and kisses her knuckles.

"Ayo, I'm going to Molly's. Who's with me?" Kevin announces.

"I'm in." Y/N forces herself out of her seat. Jay gives her a look but she gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Soon, the group of cops find themselves laughing over Adam's horrible jokes with drinks in their hand. Y/N doesn't take a single sip of the drink she's ordered as the nausea courses through her.

Jay rubs soothing circles on her back with his index finger, sensing her discomfort. He presses a soft kiss on her temple. He lets his lips linger on her skin for some time before pulling away.

"....And then he said 'You might never know what will hit you'." Adam almost snorts out the whiskey as he tells his lame story.

"And you might never know what will hit your head if you keep continuing." Y/N hisses.

"Thank you, Y/N." Kim says as she elbows Adam.

Y/N's blurry vision distracts her from her co-workers' antics. Soon, her vision turns completely black. Jay feels her pulling away from him. He does a double take when he sees her starting to fall from her seat. Right before she can hit the ground, he catches her.

"Y/N? Baby? Open your eyes!" Jay exclaims as he holds her close to his chest. "Come on, doll. Please, hold on."

Tears blur Jay's vision as he sees her lying helplessly in his arms. His heart starts racing, thinking his soul would leave his body any time.

The entire crew rushes in Chicago Med. Will walks out of the doctor's lounge, ready to go back home but stops in his tracks as he sees his brother run in the ED with Y/N in his arms.

"I need some help here!" Jay yells out.

Will drops his backpack and rushes forward.

________________________________________

Jay holds Y/N's hand to his cheek, leaning in her warmth. A few tears escape his eyes as he patiently waits for his best girl to wake up.

He stares at her face which was pale, so were her lips. He thinks about the first time he met her. She came in a couple of months before Erin left. From the moment she walked in the district, she blew everyone away with her wit, charisma and with how badass she was. She might not be physically strong, but she almost always takes out all the suspects that get into a fight with her. She doesn't use her strength, she uses her brain. She can outsmart anyone.

From the moment Jay saw her, he was in love with her. He did ask her out multiple times, but they always ended with them hanging out as friends. What he didn't know is that she was in love with him, as well.

Hank was actually the one who asked Jay to cut it out and tell Y/N about his feelings.

"Hey, Halstead. My office. Now." Hank called the detective to his office, one day. Jay wondered what he did wrong. He thought of every potential thing he did that would get him in trouble with Voight.

"Look if it's about the cake, then I'm sorry. I accidentally ate it. It was just sitting in the staff fridge. I had no ide -"

"Cake - what cake? Hold up, you ate my cake?" Hank put his hands on his hips and glowered down at Jay.

"So, this isn't about the cake." Jay chuckled, nervously. He mentally slapped himself for being such an idiot.

"You and Y/N get along?"

"Yeah."

"You friends?"

"Yes."

"Just friends?"

"All right, why are you pouring salt on my wounds?" Jay huffs.

"Look, kid. I see it in your eyes, you care about her. So, just tell her and make my job easier."

"How will that make your job easier?"

"I won't have to see you whine over the officers in the district hitting on her. You already annoy me enough. I don't need you whining on this duty. Got it? Good."

Jay almost smiles when he remembers those times. He snaps out of his trance when he sees Y/N opening her eyes.

"Hey, doll" He rushes closer to her. "You're awake."

"Hi, darling." Y/N croaks out and tries to sit up.

"Easy." Jay says as he helps her sit up. At that moment, Will walks in with a tablet in his hands.

"Hey, Y/N. I see you're awake. Your lab results came back," Will states.

"And?" Jay presses.

"And, I have some good news."

Will stares at the couple with the biggest grin on his face.

"I'm going to be an uncle!"

It takes a second or two for Y/N and Jay to process what Will said.

"O-Oh my God," Y/N gasps. "I'm pregnant."

Will nods, grinning.

Jay jumps out from his seat with a blank look on his face scaring both Y/N and Will.

"I'm gonna be a dad?" He breathes out. "I'm gonna be a dad! BRO, I'M GONNA BE A DAD"

He yells at the top his lungs in pure ecstasy. Y/N covers her mouth with her hands, laughing hard at her boyfriend's state.

After Will discharges Y/N, Jay's dramatic ass pulls an Oscar worthy performance in front of the crew who were impatiently waiting in the waiting room.

He walks out without Y/N. He musters up a devastated look as he walks into the waiting room. His expression startles the others.

"Dude, what's wrong?" Kevin questions.

"Is Y/N okay?" Kim asks.

"What did the doctor say?" Adam asks while rubbing Jay's back, in a comforting manner.

"The doctor said that -" Jay's voice breaks. The others furrow their eyebrows as they wait for him to deliver the worst news. "-I'm gonna be a dad!"

The rest of the team was way too happy to kill Jay. So, instead they celebrated as Y/N came out in the waiting room laughing at Jay's shenanigans.

Later, Jay and Y/N drive home.

"I'm sort of glad that I passed out." Y/N speaks. Jay gives her a questioning look.

"You want to explain that?" He raises his eyebrow.

"Well, if I hadn't passed out I probably would've ended up having that drink. I can't have alcohol, I'm pregnant."

"Doll, you don't have to worry about that anymore cause now you'll be eating for two and I'll be drinking for two." He winks at her right before receiving a smack in the arm.