#chicago fire head canons | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writers-hes · 8 months

Text

i need you (2 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader

It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to...maybe this time he feels the same? (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, canon typical themes, unedited)

PART ONE / navigation

Sorry for the things I said.

I appreciate you.

He erases the messages that he wanted to send. It was tempting…

The flowers he let die mocks him by the stove. It was a fire hazard he knew; but if this room burned down, would you come over to check if he was doing well?

His eyes look ahead, empty. Ever since that incident in the kitchen weeks ago, the Chefs have been on edge. Who wouldn’t be? He was cutting away those vegetables like he just didn’t cut his hand. He decided to forget about you…for now. But it was hard, considering the fact that your artwork hung in The Bear like a mantlepiece. A mantlepiece for others but he sees it like a crufix and he, a sinner with no redemption. It mocks him of his mistakes…of what he said. Everything seemd to mock him.

Ever since that bloody incident in the kitchen a few days ago, Carmy made sure to never commit a mistake again. Every second counts, every second counts…every second he counted was spent on you.

Were you alright? Were you in Chicago? Did you still need him? Or were you alright since he's finally out of your life?

You’re so fucking miserable.

It rang in his head because he knew that it was true. He was—is miserable. He made everyone around him just as miserable as he was. He could never grasp the intensity of his feelings; could never seem to grasp anything. He thinks to himself to just fuck it all and go to you and grovel…but he just couldn’t. He knew he wanted more. He was well aware of his feelings for you but to think that he made a mess of everything that he could ever have was hard to swallow.

Carmy has the habit of hiding from his allies. He can’t control his emotions but sometimes, he bides his time hoping to fix it. He tries to wait for the perfect time to fix what he burned but…it’s been too long since you last saw each other. It’s been too long since he sent you a message.

Would you still love me?

You weren’t doing any better. Carmen, despite his refusal to love, was warm. He’s the sun shining on a cold winter day; the warmth that spreads all over your body from the kiss that he leaves on your shoulder. You missed him dearly, but you couldn’t have it in you to reach out first when it was him who didn’t love you.

The realization of Carmen not loving you back was bearable at first but to see it right in front of your eyes…to be on the receiving end of his rejection was more than what you could comprehend.

In a span of those months without Carmen, you felt…like there was a gaping Carmen Berzatto-shaped hole inside your heart that only he could fix. You’ve been in and out of Chicago to forget about him, but you couldn’t. At the end of the day, you were just as miserable as when you first realized that you'd fallen for him. Was it asking for too much when you asked him to still be your friend? The more he pushed you away, the more you were convinced that you didn’t matter to him at all.

Is it too late for me to love you?

You’ve been surrounding yourself with work; painting in your studio for what felt like years until you were sure that your fingers were gonna fall off.

If walls could talk, they’d tell the world of Carmen Berzatto.

You’ve been purging yourself of anything Carmy and you found yourself painting every single food he’s ever made for you. It was all that you could do to relieve yourself of the sobs that choked you at night; when you didn’t want to acknowledge that the man you loved didn’t love you back. You should have been fine—you were expecting this. You were anticipating this but you still wondered what it would be like to be loved by him. You still wondered what it would feel like to hold his hand in the streets of Chicago. You wondered how his hand would feel on your knee while he drives back home. You wondered what it felt like to be loved by him.

You were meeting some art collector today—he seems to be keen on commissioning you for your work and you accepted. He was supposed to arrive in Chicago to meet you and to try a new restaurant that everyone’s been raving about. He said that he already had a reservation for three but he couldn’t go and told you to meet with his art consultant, Isaac on his stead.

You should’ve known from the context clues that you’ll be landing in a place you didn’t want to go to. You should’ve been smarter because maybe, if you did, you wouldn’t be sitting at The Bear, waiting for your frozen grapes and bone broth. Surprise was one word to describe Natalie’s face when she saw you.

“So, how did you realize you wanted to pursue art?”

“Oh,” you licked your lips. “I guess, I wanted to pursue it all my life. It was something that I was good at and…and I can’t really cook well. I liked how food was presented and how empty dinner plates look sometimes, you know. It didn’t take long for me to collaborate with chefs and restaurants and…”

“Is that your piece?” Isaac asked. “I’m sorry, I just—wow. Do you think the manager will let me come nearer to inspect it?”

You smiled at him.

“Um, yeah.” you nod. Richie comes by and stops by your table.

“Good evening, guys,” he greets. “Y/N, it’s been a while.”

“Hey, Rich,” you waved.

“We’ll get you started with frozen grapes in a minute,” he says. “How’s your night? Didn’t know I’d find you here.”

“Oh, this is Isaac. Isaac, Richie.”

Isaac stands up to shake Richie’s hand.

“Do you want to go see the painting? It’s even more detailed up close,” Richie said, ushering Isaac to the painting. He throws you a look as if to ask for your permission but you just smiled at him. Your knee was bouncing under the table, trying to calm yourself down. Richie walks back to your table.

“You know he’s not going to like that,”

“I’m in a business meeting,” you shrugged. “Isaac is an art consultant and his boss told us he couldn’t come. Do you need to see my text messages?”

“I know, I’m not fucking accusing you of anything. Don’t be defensive,” Richie says, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “But had I known that we were going here, I would’ve suggested another place. I don’t want to be here either.” Richie looks for the object of your focus, seeing your eyes zero in on the painting you gave to Carmen.

“We all love the painting. Carmy loves it. He looks at it every day before opening,” he offers but you only shrug. If he loved the painting so much, why didn’t he text you? “You should’ve thrown it at me instead of throwing it at the back. Could’ve earned thousands on that one,” you chuckled, telling him that it probably would. He sees Isaac come back to the table after marvelling at your painting. Richie smiles tightly and tells him that starters will be served shortly.

“Yo, Y/N’s outside. We have to bring our A game!” Richie shouts in the kitchen. “Make her first time here an experience. Fak, make sure that the lamp over Y/N and Isaac isn’t too hot and then, ask if you could serve them some drinks.”

“Okay,” Fak nods, fixing his hair to make sure that he was presentable. It takes a bit for Carmy to register what Richie was saying and he blinks.

“Wait, hold up. Cousin. Who’s here? Y/N…she’s here?” Carmy asked, taking the teapot of bone broth. “With…with who?”

“Isaac,” Richie replied, he was watching Carmy fix his hair and his uniform. What an asshole.

“Carmy! Don’t fucking—go,” Sydney whispers the last part, looking pointedly at Richie once Carmy leaves with the fucking teapot. “Really, Richie? Tonight? You want to play fucking games tonight?” she asked. “Need I remind you of the bloody chopping board? Sweeps hasn’t removed the stains out yet,”

“What?” he shrugs. “Everyone’s been on edge since they stopped talking. It’s nice to take a breather,” Richie saw the realization dawn on Sydney’s face and he smirks. “Right, chefs! It will take Carmy two minutes to go do his alpha whatever fucking bullshit outside. That’s two minutes of easy time. I’ll need focaccia for Y/N’s table after the fucking grapes. Make sure that the dishes are warm, chefs! Every second counts,”

“Good evening,” he greets, a tight smile on his face. He catches the way your smile falls slowly into a frown.

“Carmen,” you replied.

“Finally had the time to visit,” he says. “With a date?”

“Ah, no,” you replied. “Isaac is my customer’s art consultant and he’s uh,”

“Here to make a deal,” Isaac replied. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Berzatto.”

“Here’s your broth with the-the grapes,” he says, shakily pouring it over the frozen grapes. “Hope you, uh, enjoy the evening, Y/N. Isaac,”

He turns to leave but pauses.

“Um, sorry, Y/N can I have a word with you?” he asked. “Please,”

You swallowed. “Um—“

Isaac saw your apprehension. “It’s okay. You’re friends…right? I’ll stay here,”

“Sure. I’ll take two minutes. I’m so sorry,” you apologized before letting him lead you to the kitchen. “Hi, guys. Sorry for interrupting,”

“It’s fine,” Richie says, smiling at you sweetly.

“Carmy, we can talk later, okay? Your kitchen needs you,” you tried. You’ve been saying that to him even before your entrance to the kitchen, but he only shakes his head.

“Just…two minutes,” he says. “Please,”

“Carmen…”

“Please,” he tried. He didn’t really want his staff to see him grovel even though he knew that this was bringing them some sort of a sadistic joy.

“Sorry, everyone,” you forced out, but Sydney was actually thankful to get Carmen out of the kitchen for a few minutes. If it was possible, Carmy was even more unreasonable. His standards were tip top. A second too long was a second too much. He and Sydney have been screaming at each other every night; the volume of their voices louder by the second.

You followed him into the office, being reminded of the hurtful words you’ve said to each other. He locks the door, and runs a hand over his face.

“What…what are you doing here?” he scowls.

“I’m a paying customer. I can go wherever I want,”

“With him? What are you doing here with him?” he asked, hands on his waist to show his impatience. You decided to make him wait and he does, urging you to answer by raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t think it matters to you,” you replied. “I can go eat wherever I want. I can afford it,”

“I’m-I’m not saying that you can’t. Just-just tell me why here?”

“Why are you so bothered? You can’t question every guy you see me with, Carm,” you reasoned out. “You told me you didn’t love me. I don’t think it’s necessary for you to still know where I go and who I spend time with.” He flinches at your tone. You’ve never talked to him like that before. You were always so gentle. So, for you to disregard him and not even give a reason why, an icy glare thrown his way…was mean.

“I can kick you out,” he spits. You scowl at him; he’s never been the subject of your anger and right now, you were seething.

“So, kick me out,” you challenged him, meeting his eyes with the dort of ferocity that he never expected from you. He stays silent, looking at the floor. He didn’t want you to hate him more than you already do. “I thought so,”

Urgent and demanding raps on your door broke you from your reviere. You liked painting in silence; it soothes you from the loudness of the world outside. You sighed, knowing immediately who was on the other side. Your breath was shaky, and you tried to walk slowly towards the door. What would you even say to him?

Carmy was a jittering mess on the other side. He couldn’t get you out of his head ever since you visited The Bear a few days ago. He was watching from the other side after service, seeing you laugh at whatever Isaac said. He was making you laugh when that was reserved to Carmen alone…months ago before he ruined everything he ever wanted. He waits with bated breath as you open the door. He used to be able to just come inside your house whenever he wanted. You used to wait for him with a small smile on your face. It is all gone now. You looked tired; like you didn’t want him there at all.

“Can I come in?” he asked but he didn’t miss the way you shielded your body with the door. He didn’t miss the way your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“Sure.” Sure. Like you didn’t have any other choice but to deal with him right now. Sure.

“Thanks,” he licks his lips, putting his shoes on the side like he used to. Your home was clean but it was devoid of anything. The lights were barely on and the music that used to play from your vinyl was nowhere to be heard. Carmy used to tease you for being pretentious. It’s too quiet inside your house right now.

“Do you want anything? Water?”

“No, thanks,” he says, and you nod. “I’m…I just—I don’t know why I’m here,”

“I see,” you replied, looking anywhere but at him. “Can I help you?”

“Um—who-who were you with the other day?”

“You can’t just…question or decide to drop by when you see me with someone else, Carm,” you said, voice low and careful. “He was an art consultant,”

“Why?” he asked, his eyes inviting you to look at him but you wouldn’t budge. He knew why. He knew that he was an art consultant but something inside Carmy was telling him that the planning had been deliberate and that you went there with malice. To spite him…make him jealous…it was narcissistic but what if?

“Because…because you don’t love me,” you chuckled. There was something funny about not being loved back by a person who used to come to you at the smallest inconvenience. “You don’t love me but the first thing you do is to freak out. It was a work meeting and you freaked out. You don’t love me, Carmy,”

“How many times will-will you hold that over me?” he asked, frowning. “Why are you acting like-like I did something wrong? You can’t control how I feel, Y/N! Give it up!”

“Because I can and I want to, Carmen!” you exclaimed, chest heaving. Your throat constricted at his rejection. This was the second time. “I can and I want to hold that over you because I’m hurt. I am hurt. You hurt me. You toss me away to the side and-and you expect me to be forgiving. You expect me to just understand,”

“You have to accept that I…don’t—that I don’t love you that way,” he whispers, and it just breaks your heart because he still couldn’t get it.

“I’m not asking you to love me back,” you croak, your eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t want to tell you how to feel—or what to feel but you didn’t even text me. You didn’t ask me how I was doing…or -or said hi to me. You—you…I don’t know. You just stopped.”

“Why didn’t you text me first?”

“Because I told you how much you mattered to me. I told you that I love you. I thought that if I didn’t text you, you'd miss me and…God, Carmen. I would have been fine if you didn’t love me back. It would have been fucking dandy. It would have been great if you could have just…treated me like a—like a friend, you know? I still would’ve been there for you…but you shut me out! You showed me just how little I mattered to you, Carm. Did you know that…? You—you treat me like how you treat everyone else when you’re the one who needs me. ”

“You do—you matter to me…”

“Actions speak louder than words,” you spat, your arms crossed over your chest. “You only text me first when you want a quick fuck. I’m free tonight? Want to go? You can’t even say that you want to have sex with me,”

Carmen was at a loss for words. He was hurt that you’d think that way of him when he thought the world of you. Did you really think that you’d matter to Carmen just because he wanted to fuck you?

“Hey, don’t-don’t do that. That isn’t fair to me. You know that-that you mean more to me than that. You’re being unfair,”

“Unfair,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I’m being unfair when you’re the one inside my home after seeing me with a guy that I am working with.”

“It’s my fucking restaurant! It’s my goddamn restaurant,” he exclaimed, running his hand over his golden hair that you loved so much. “It’s my fucking goddamn restaurant!”

“And I’m fucking telling you that I can do whatever I want!” you retorted, matching the intensity of his voice. “Why do you care, Carmen?” you spit.

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what? Carm? Carmy? Bear? Carmen…Anthony…Berzatto?” you taunt, the same venom dripping from your voice. He just never heard it from you before and it was an unpleasant feeling. “I’m not…I’m not going to let you push me around just because I love you, Carmy,” you shook your head.

Carmy stares at you, his face pinched in frustration and in sadness. He looks away, swallowing. He presses his hand over his chest to ground him. He didn’t know if he should be mad at you for making him feel this way. Like he needs you all the time to be alright. He didn’t know if he should be angry at himself for letting you lure him into your trap and your promises of warmth and love and…contentment. All this time, he tried to convince himself that he didn’t need anyone much less you for that matter.

“Say something,” you urged, looking at him desperately but he just shakes his head. You could feel it—feel him detach himself from you. You could feel him cower, hide his feelings…the real reason why he was knocking on your door in the first place. “Fucking say something, Carm! Tell me why you’re here,”

He just stands there unmoving, blinking back any emotion. He wanted to store everything in his brain. He didn’t want to feel anymore…he didn’t…

“Fucking hell,” you whispered shakily. “I don’t know what you want from me…but I can’t go on like-like this! I can’t open the door for you every time you knock. I can’t answer every time you call…just…please, Carmy. Fucking say something.”

Still, he stays silent.

A sardonic chuckle escapes your lips.

“Leave when you want to, I don’t give a shit. Just…just don’t come inside my fucking studio, Carmen. I was expecting you to apologize to tell me that you still want to be friends…I guess I thought I mattered to you more than that,” you told him, walking away. He just watches you go to your studio, hearing the sounds of your materials being thrown in different directions. It doesn’t make him flinch; he just watches the fire burn.

It’s time to go.

Carmen has been living in autopilot since his last visit. It was probably jealousy that prompted him to act like a jagoff but he wasn’t ready to admit that. Instead, he was harder on himself, beating himself up over the smallest things—if a dice wasn’t precise, it wasn’t good enough. Food out for a second too long was cold. It was like reliving New York but he was the perpetrator. He was the one pushing his boundaries until he hated what he was doing and Carmy admits, it was not healthy.

But what else could he do? Cooking was the only thing he was good at and there was nothing else to do other than work.

That was a lie.

He sometimes spent hours rereading the messages you sent him. You’d always text him to have a good day…a funny photo that reminded you of him…

He smiles at some of them, but it’s quickly replaced by the frown that etches on his face because he will never receive these messages from you. Isaac probably fucking does though. He grips his phone tightly in his hands; he hates that thought. He looks at his phone blankly, the message from you illuminating his face blue.

parm4carm? carmyggiano reggiano? carmensan hahahahahaha i’m at a meeting and i want to laugh because i’m thinking of things to add to your name

He didn’t remember replying but he did remember the small satisfaction that the message brought him all day. You were thinking of him and you were trying to make him laugh; he tried his best to stop himself from smiling but Richie noticed it immediately.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” he asked him but Carmy only flipped him off, turning around to stop Richie from seeing him.

He sighs. It’s not like what you had wasn’t fun. In fact, he was quite sure that it was the somewhat-only healthy relationship that he has. You both gave wach other space, you talked things through. When he started dating Claire, he went to your apartment first to tell you about her. You shrugged it off, not really minding who Carmy dated back then. When he apologized for not inviting you to the opening despite multiple protests from Richie and Sydney, you understood. When he stopped responding for a week, you showed up to his door with a pack of his favorite cigarettes and a box of doughnuts.

Looking back, did he ever do anything for you?

“Carmy, you good?” Sugar asked. He was more standoffish; he smokes more, and he doesn’t speak much. It’s always only a grunt or a “yeah yeah.”

“Oh,” Carmy says, blinking. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Carmy…” Sugar tries. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he nods. “I…I’m just thinking, you know? Like-like, I fuck everything up and-and I’m aware of it,” he says. “I know that what I’m doing isn’t right but…you know, I-I always have this dream of a fire…and I just watch it burn…”

Sugar nods, trying to coax out the lump in Carmy’s throat.

“I wonder if I just don’t speak…will they understand me? I can’t fuck things up again just because I have no cell reception. What if that happens again?” he asked, frowning. “Fuck,”

“Do you think she’s distracting? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,”

“But I…I want to,” he says, his hand pressed on his chest. “I want to, Nat but I can’t,”

“You’re a pain in the ass, Carmy. Go talk to the girl,” she smiles and Carmy could only nod because maybe Nat was right. If he could just…talk to you without jumping on your throat and without blinking, there like a fucking idiot.

That’s an easy job, right?

“I’ve been thinking about-about us, and I just want to say that I’m sorry and that I…Fuck!”

He was walking like a madman inside his apartment, on the verge of texting you about how Isaac chewed with his mouth open. You told him you hated people who chewed with their mouths open—loud and wet. He saw your favorite cereal on sale the other day. He almost wanted to ask you if you were aware that it was marked down. Should he get you a few boxes? What about three? He just wanted to know. Would you…would you come over if he let his kitchen burn? Would you come over if you saw the dead flowers that dried up because he couldn’t find it in himself to throw them away. It was the last piece of evidence that he wanted to go. Would you even accept his dead flowers now that your name was on every art forum? You probably like cereal and milk with fucking gold leaves and fig.

He knows that you didn’t like it when he looked sad but when he visited you, did you notice the way his shoulders slumped? Because he noticed the shallowness of your breathing, the taps on the floor, the pause before you opened the door for him. He noticed the way you blinked back the tears that he threatened to spill because he was cruel. He knew…he knew that he was cruel but would you still forgive him if he ran up to you now?

The cereal you like is marked down at the store. Do you want some?

The vibration in your pocket stops you from talking to the guy who just offered to buy you your coffee.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly. “Let me just…get this,”

Your hands slightly trembled when you saw the message that Carmy just sent. It was an odd olive branch but what if you were looking into things again? What if he was just trying to have sex again?

I’m sorry for the things that I said.

Can we talk?

“Hey, hey,” the guy says. You didn’t even know his name. “Are you alright?”

“Uh? Yeah, no-yeah, I am. Sorry,” you replied, locking your phone and putting it in the back pocket. “What was it?”

“Oh, I was wondering if-if you want coffee?”

“I…already ordered, though,” you replied. “Advanced order and I’m just waiting…”

The guy’s face falls, and you smile timidly.

“Sorry,” you offered.

“No, that's fine,” he shrugs. “I should’ve known or something,”

“No, thanks. Um, yeah…”

The barista calls for your name on the counter and you smile at him before leaving. You rushed out of the café without another word, coffee in your hand and Carmen’s message in your backpocket.

The Read label was putting Carmen in a spiral. You read the message twelve fucking minutes ago, why weren’t you replying? He was popping the joints on his knuckles, watching the phone closely until you replied.

what time do you close?

can we go to your apartment instead?

He lets go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He texts you to just enter the apartment since you still have the keys, completely forgetting about the flowers near his stove.

When you entered his apartment, you were greeted with the bareness of it all, save for the dried flowers on the stove. You frowned, walking towards it. Carmy didn’t need flowers… Besides, this was a fire hazard. Was he okay?

You turned over the card attached and took a sharp breath.

Let it rip. I’m so proud of you.

Love, Carm

Was this deliberate? Did he plan this all out to get you to forgive him? You turned away, trying to forget the note that he was meant to give you. You sat on his couch instead, settling on the corner and flipping through the channels on his cable. You wanted something to fill the silence so that when he comes, you wouldn’t have to try to make up for it by saying something stupid like the weather in Chicago.

You settled on some reality show, looking at the screen with your eyes glazed over when you heard someone mess with the lock. You looked over, watching Carmy in his grey sweater. He tossed the backpack to the side and his shoes were laying somewhere. You saw this scene before—multiple times but the undertone was different.

“Hi,”

“Hey,”

“Um—“

“I hope you…you don’t mind me watching—“

Carmy’s eyes flicks to the stove and realization dawns on his face.

“Fuck, fuck. Sorry—you, ah, weren’t supposed to…” he puts the flowers in the cupboard hastily, some leaves falling. “See that,”

“Yeah—“

“Um, I’ll just…”

“Yeah,”

He nods, blinking, before stalking to his bedroom. He locks the door behind him and heaves. Fuck. He shakes his head entering the bathroom to wash the day away.

You couldn't focus anymore. Why was he so ashamed of the flowers he got you? You swallow the thickness down your throat. Were you intruding if you got yourself a glass of water? Carmy goes out of the bedroom a few minutes later, fresh and clean. He looks at you and heads to the kitchen. You don’t move.

He comes back with a glass of water for you, laying it down on the coffee table and then sitting beside you—as far as he could because he didn’t know where you stood right now. What boundaries can he cross?

“Thanks,” you smiled at him, taking a huge gulp of the cold water. “Um…”

“Shit—I don't know what to say,” he says, folding his hands on his lap.

“We can…we can start with what we said,” you replied slowly. “I…”

“I’m sorry,”

“Carm—“

“I’m sorry. I didn’t take-I didn’t take your feelings into consideration and I…I hurt you,” he says, looking down. You were both sitting straight ahead, the TV illuminating your faces. It felt like a thick wall was between you two and that it was up to you to break it. “I just…I don’t know. I can’t keep on doing shitty things and then-then, feeling bad about myself but I…I spent my life trying to-to understand mom and Mi—key,” he chokes. “I guess I don’t want to understand anyone else anymore because I wouldn’t be able to but I—but you’re not anyone else.”

“I fucked up,” he says. “When I was with Claire…I was locked in the fucking freezer because I had no cell reception. I don’t want that…but I don’t—“

“What do you want, Carm?” you asked.

“I want to—I want…I,”

“I’m sorry for calling you miserable and unreliable,” you told him. “I was hurt and I’m sorry for uh, holding things over you. It’s not your fault that I caught feelings. It wasn’t fair to just…expect you to…love me, you know? Wasn’t fair,”

“No, I was a shitty friend. I shouldn’t have let you go like that,”

“Yeah,” you nod. You heard him shift in his seat, legs crossed over each other and facing you. You glanced and did the same.

“I got you your cereal,” A small smile.

“Yeah?” A beat.

“Like four boxes.”

“I’ll be sick of them,” you teased.

“I know but maybe you’d hate that instead,” A confession.

“I don’t hate you…”

“You don’t?” he asked. “Why…I’m really sorry. I don’t want to…I’m really fucking sorry,”

“What do you want, Carm?” you asked, a brave hand on his knee. “Tell me what you want,”

“Please,”

“And we’ll make it work,”

“I want everything. But I…I don’t…It’s funny. A fridge started Claire and I’s relationship. A fridge ended it too. I’m sorry for bringing her up…but I never felt like I was deserving of…of happiness and I,” he blinks, eyes pinching at the bitterness of every word that rolled off his tongue. “Who the fuck said I could be in a relationship? I am the best because I was focused and I…I had cell reception and I didn’t have the bullshit of understanding feelings. I don’t need amusement or enjoyment…I…no amount of good was worth it, you know? I thought-thought that it was a complete waste of my fucking time but I crave for it,”

“And…I don’t know. I failed them and I…I don’t—“ he heaves. He has to let it all out if he wanted to make things right. “I’m scared that if I…jump in, you know? I fuck everything up again. My staff hates me, I hate me, and you…you hate me too. I don’t want to lose cell reception and I…I don’t need enjoyment but I need you. I need you with me all the time but what if you get—sick of me and push me away like Mikey did? What if…what if you learn to hate me? I need you and I don’t know if I can handle it if we—if we just stopped talking and I did. I stopped talking to you because it would have hurt me more if you decided to end things like that…I’m sorry,”

“I’m just…I fuck up everything that I touch, and I know that I’m miserable and I’m so fucking sorry that I hurt you. I’ll take that with me to the grave. I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, a hand pressed on his chest, like he was protecting it. The barrier that you had to strike down. A gentle hand takes his, interlacing your fingers with his calloused ones. It makes him flinch, but he accepts the gesture.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” you smiled and Carmy could just cry because it was the same thing that Claire had told him. What was the guarantee that it was different this time? “But Carmy, you have to understand that I…I don’t want to hurt you or-or distract you from being the best. I want you to be the best…”

“Is the best…enough?” he asks. “If I lose you?”

“That’s a question you have to answer for yourself, Carm,” you offered. “I’m selfish. I can’t—I don’t want to be the reason why you learn to hate me just because I told you to choose me and I don’t want you to choose. I want you to…be the best and be—be…”

“I need you,”

“I know but I…” I want you to love me.

“I touch everything and I burn everything…Richie and I…I feel so bad about the things I said to him and I fucking hate that I can’t control anything. My life is so fucked up and I—“ he stops, looking at you for the first time that night. “I just wish to just let the everything burn and then it will all go away but I need you to watch it burn with me,”

He still hasn’t said what you wanted to hear from him. He still hasn’t said anything.

“I love you,”

You stop your breathing.

“Carm—don’t say that just for the sake of saying it,” you begged, pulling him away from him and standing up. “Don’t say that if you don’t-don’t mean it…you're just being mean,”

“I do,”

“Carmy,” you whispered. “You didn’t love me months ago. What made you love me now?” you asked. “I’m not invalidating your feelings or-or whatever but I need you to understand that I’ve been loving you for months. I loved you after you broke up with Claire and we drank wine many months ago, but you didn’t…do you love me because you need me?”

“No!” he says. “I love you and I need you. I’ve been—harboring these feelings but I can’t…I can’t say anything and I’m so, so scared that if I don’t say anything now, then everything will just be a big fucking shit show and then, I’ll lose you forever. I’m so scared because what if we don’t work and-and you decide that I do make you miserable? What then?”

“What if we work out?”

“That’s worse because then I’d know that I’ve been holding myself back for nothing,”

“I’m confused, Carm. What do you want?” you asked, shaking your head.

“You and I…together,” he replied. “Only if you want to. I don’t want to make you feel like-like I’m,”

“Can you say that again?”

“What?”

“What do you feel for me,” you begged. “I’ve been…I’ve been waiting months for you to tell me those words and I just have to make sure that I—that I’m hearing you correctly,”

“I love you,” he says. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeats the same words over and over again and you feel your eyes brim with tears because this is what you wanted—this is what you’ve always wanted to hear. He stands up and walks over to you, covering his arms around your frame. “I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t,”

“Carmy…” you trailed off. “I’m sorry for the things that I said,”

“I’m sorry too,” he says. “But it’s okay…consider everything forgotten,” he kisses your temple and checks on you. “We’re okay, baby. We’re okay,”

“I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” he says, ducking his head so his lips could meet yours. “I miss you,” he mumbles, cradling your head with his two hands. He kisses you fervently, like he was thirsty and you were the fountain of life. “Mm,”

“Carm…” you whine when he lets you go. You push him to the couch, his legs open wide as he watches you. “I want to show you how much I missed you,”

“Yeah?” he rasps, tapping his lap. “Come here, baby,”

You nod, watching his chest rise and fall in anticipation. You settle yourself on his lap, legs on either side. His hands immediately find your waist, clutching your body through the soft material of your shirt. You tug on his shirt to bring him closer to you, kissing him slowly. Your hands find themselves tugging on his hair, your hips rocking softly against his clothed crotch.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hips meeting your subconsciously and you giggle at his anticipation.

“Carm!” you chuckled, lips trailing down to his jaw. He likes that you never fail to leave love bites where everyone can see. He sighs deeply when you suck on the spot he liked so much. You could feel him harden under his joggers, itching for release. When you are done, you smile at him, pecking him on the lips before removing his shirt completely. He sucks in a breath when your soft hands run over his chest. “I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” he rasps, tugging on your shirt. You oblige, removing the piece of clothing entirely. His mouth waters at the sight of your naked torso. You rub your heat against his cock, the both of you moaning because of the pleasurable friction. It was slow and deliberate at first but you were soon mewling, his mouth on yours. His tongue pushes past against your lips, swirling with one another. “Remove everything, please—“

You nod, standing in front of him to strip yourselves of what remained between the two of you. Carmy, runs his hand on your waist, looking up at you with need. You run your hands through his hair while you let him kiss every part of your body that he could kiss. You sigh at the contact of his warm lips against your body, settling yourself back on his lap but this time, with less restraint. His hand immediately finds your cunt, fingers working to flick your clit. You whimpered when you felt his fingers prod your entrance.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Fuck yourself with my hand,”

“Carm,” you whine, bouncing slightly. Your hand finds the tip of his cock and his hips jerks, at the contact.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he says, looking up at you with his eyes half-lidded. He removes his fingers inside you and sucks on them. “You always taste so sweet,”

You couldn’t choke out any reply. So instead, you put your hands on either of his shoulders, slowly sinking on his cock.

“Fuuuuck,” he says, his head falling on the sofa. “Fuck,”

“Carmy,” you said, rolling your hips against his own slowly. “You’re so—“

“Good,” he says, watching his member disappear inside you completely. He could feel your wetness on his thighs, and it kills him. “I’m gonna make you mine,” he says, pinching your nipple.

“Carmy!”

“You like it?” he asked, his head inching closer. He flicks his tongue over the sensitive bud while you ride him. He bites on it and you flinch. He feels your walls clench around him when he does that, so he tries it on your other nipple.

“Carm,” you whined, “Fuck—“

The moans that emitted from his mouth vibrated on your chest. He was continuously sucking and licking your nipple, pinching and twisting it with his rough hands while you gyrated against him. His cock fills you up differently and you let his hips thrust upwards, hitting a certain soot inside of you.

He gives up the need to control, letting you part away from him. You stand up, repositioning yourself to finally—

“Fuck!” he groans, not expecting the sudden feeling of your tight, wet walls wrapping his girth. The tip was just teasing your wntrance a few second ago. His head falls back, arms wrapped around your waist while you bounce on his cock. “Fuck, fuck,”

“Carmy…” you moan. “Kiss me,”

He does what was told, capturing your lips with his. His tongue parts your already open mouth, his arms snaking around gour waist to keep you closer. You whimper, hands holding either side of his neck and you grip slightly.

“Mm,” he groans, breaking away from you. Your pace was speeding up, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling his apartment. “Fuck,”

You smiled at him, constricting his airways a little tighter.

“I’m so—fuck—oh,” he chokes out. His hips stutter against you, cock filling you up completely and he feels your walls clench around him. “close.”

“Baby, baby, baby…” he sighs, the pressure too much for him. “I’ll make you mine. I’ll make you mine,”

“I love you,” you mewled, head falling when he plays with your sensitive buds again. “I want to be yours, Carm,”

He meets your wet pussy with his cock in sloppy thrusts. Your bodies were moving in motion, desperate for that release—that closeness after months of being away from each other. Carmy was holding you so close, grunting and groaning under you.

“Fuck, I fucking love—oh,” his voice breaks and he comes undone. Your walls clench around his gushing member, thrusting inside to chase your high. Your movements slow down, his head on your shoulder. A beat passes with heavy breathing. He peeks. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, removing yourself from him. “Are you?”

He nods, pushing your hair away from your face.

“I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up. What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?”

“I think cereal’s good.”

A/N: First and foremost, I’d like to thank you guys for the overwhelming love and support that you showed in chapter one. Your comments and reblogs all motivated me to write chapter 2 the best that I can and I hope that you love this chapter as much as the previous one. As always, don’t forget to comment or reblog your thoughts! I’d love to know what you thought about this one.

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt@morgthemagpie@hal3ynicol3@1800-queen-trash @ummvengers @thottywizard

TELL ME YOU NEED ME TAGLIST: @hanula18 @globetrotter28 @trashcanfullofdork @carmens-berzattos @se0kie @saturnheart @akila-twt @mashadanki @ayoedibiris-letterboxd @quicksilversg1rl @docmerlock @notalxx

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #angst #fluff #the bear #the bear fc #carmy berzatto smut

1K notes · View notes

peachyhalstead · 2 months

Text

alive | j. halstead

summary: chasing down an offender doesn't go quite as planned (dw it ends fluffy)

pairing: established (married) fem!reader x jay halstead, platonic!reader x adam ruzek

word count: 1.75k

warnings: canon-level violence, gunshot, hospitals, medical inaccuracies

a/n: meet a seasoned fanfic writer's first fic about jay <3 please let me know what you think of this !! also it was originally written in 3rd pov so if you see anything wrong, no you didn't ---- You followed Adam down the alley, weapons drawn. "Chicago PD! Stop!"

You felt your lungs burn as you raced down the alley, nodding when you saw Adam silently gesture to enter through the front door, and he would take the back.

Noticing the door was already open, you walked in, eyes alert for any sign of a victim or offender.

Hearing Adam call out a "clear!" you opened your mouth to do the same, but didn't make it that far as you heard three shots ring out, feeling two sharp pains tear through your body.

Adam, having seen the offender shoot you, quickly fired a round of his own weapon, pressing a button on his radio. "5021 Ida, shots fired by offender and police! We need an ambo to our location, plain-clothed officers at the scene, one in need of urgent medical care!"

Near the end of the block that you and Adam were on, Jay's head shot up to meet Hailey's, hearing their coworker's distraught call into the radio.

The two sprinted out of their location, and down to the abandoned house, hearing the sirens grow louder.

"Ruz! Where are you guys?!" Jay called, stomping through the house.

He felt his heart plummet when he saw his wife on the floor, bullet hole in your shoulder and belly, Adam holding his jacket over the wounds.

"Y/N!" He fell to his knees next to you, letting out a breath when you looked at him.

"J-Jay, I didn't see him coming." You mumbled, breaths shaky.

"Shh, it's okay, hon. You're going to be alright." Jay reassured you, his hands trembling as he reached out to stroke her the back from your face. He shot a panicked look at Adam, who was still pressing down on the bullet wounds.

"Ambo's en route, Jay," Adam said, his voice tight with worry. "She's strong, she's gonna pull through this."

Jay didn't answer, his attention solely focused on his wife. He held onto your hand, willing his strength into you. "Hang in there, baby."

"I'm trying," you answered weakly.

Just then Voight and Kevin Atwater stormed into the room. The sight of you on the floor left them momentarily stunned before they sprung into action. Voight acknowledged Ruzek with a curt nod and Atwater immediately moved to Jay's side, helping apply pressure to your wounds.

The sirens outside grew louder as the ambulance neared their location. It wasn't long before the paramedics came rushing in with a stretcher, immediately getting to work on stabilizing you for transport to Med.

As they carried you out of the house, Jay followed closely behind, fear etched on his face but determination in his eyes. He watched as they loaded yoiu into the ambulance before climbing in right after them.

The team was left in the eerily quiet house -- a stark contrast to the chaos moments ago. Voight looked around at his team, each one wearing an expression of concern and fear for their colleague.

"Everyone alright?" he asked gruffly, though there was a hint of concern in his tone.

Ruzek and Atwater both nodded, and soon the team made their way to Chicago Med, making home in the waiting room, wanting to be there for both you and Jay.

Jay, having hopped out of the ambulance as you were unloaded and ushered into a trauma room, a few nurses stopping him from going in. "Jay, Jay stop!"

The detective pulled a hand through his hair, looking at his older brother, Will. "Will, you gotta help her, man."

Shaking his head, he nodded to where his coworkers Dr. Marcel and Dr. Choi were working on you, who had since lost consciousness. "I can't, bro. She's family, against hospital policy."

Jay hit the wall, tears coming to his eyes. "I can't lose her, man. We just got married, this can't be the end."

Will clapped his brother on the back, jaw tense. "They got her, Jay. She'll be good, she's a strong one."

The two brothers watched as you were rushed into emergency surgery, being told to wait in the waiting room for any updates.

------

Jay stared at the clock on the wall across from him, watching the hands move as time passed. It had been two hours since you were taken to the O.R., and as much as Will tried, he wasn't able to get any more information out of his coworkers.

"Hey, man." Adam walked over to Jay, handing him a coffee.

"Thanks." Jay spoke, voice raw. "You saved her life, Ruz."

Adam shook his head, sitting next to Jay. "It was my idea to split up. If we stuck together, maybe she wouldn't have gotten hit."

Jay looked at his friend. "Don't blame yourself, Ruz."

The two detectives sat in silence, only perking up when Will and Dr. Marcel walked out into the waiting room.

"Is she-" Jay cut himself off, unable to finish the question.

"She's alive. We got both the bullets out, there was some damage to her shoulder, but we were able to repair it all."

Jay let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, grateful smile on his face. "Can I see her?"

Dr. Marcel shook his head. "Not right now. She's being moved to a recovery room in the I.C.U., a nurse will come out to bring you to her when she's settled."

"Will she still be able to be a cop?" Adam asked, the question plaguing him ever since he saw you hit the ground.

"With physical therapy and rest, Y/N should get full function and mobility of her shoulder. It won't be fast, she'll need lots of rest."

Jay thanked the surgeon, shaking his hand before he walked away.

------

Once the team had all heard that you made it through surgery, they headed back to the district to close up the case, the offender in CPD's morgue.

Jay sat up when a nurse walked over to him, smile on her face. Maggie, he recalled, from when Will introduced them a while ago. "She’s awake, she's asking for you."

Rising from the uncomfortable seat, Jay groaned as his back cracked, following Maggie down the halls to the I.C.U.

He smiled when he finally laid eyes on you, blinking blearily as the door opened and you saw your husband.

"Jay," you sighed in relief, her voice barely a whisper.

His breath hitched in his throat as he approached the bed. Your face was paler than he remembered, hair fanned out on the white hospital pillow. The sight of seeing you awake, those sparkling eyes looking at him despite being clouded by painkillers and fatigue, was enough to bring tears prickling in his eyes.

"Hey, baby," he murmured, carefully taking your hand and pressing a kiss to it. "How are you feeling?"

You gave a small wry smile. "Like I’ve been shot twice."

He chuckled weakly, stroking your hand with his thumb. "They said you did great in surgery."

You shrugged slightly, wincing after. "I don't remember much."

"They also said you’ll need a lot of rest and physical therapy for your shoulder."

You nodded slowly. “That’s okay. I can handle it.”

Jay looked at you, admiration clear in his eyes. Despite having just woken up from surgery and being shot twice, you were still trying to put up a brave face.

"There's my soldier," he said softly, brushing a loose strand of your hair from her your-drenched forehead.

Just then there was a soft knock on the door and Will walked in followed Dr. Marcel.

Dr. Marcel greeted you two with a warm smile as he approached your bed. He checked on your vitals before turning to Will and Jay.

"She's doing well considering the circumstances," Dr. Marcel reported.

Will nodded, sending you a comforting smile. "Should be able to get discharged in a few day’s time."

You nodded, looking at the sling your arm was in. "How long do I need to wear this?"

Dr. Marcel smirked, Will had warned him that his sister-in-law wasn't one to sit around and do nothing. "At least a month, but it depends on how your physical therapy goes. But, for a couple weeks, you can't move your arm. We had to repair some muscles in your shoulder, so it'll be sore."

You nodded, thanking the doctor as he left, Will following.

Jay looked at you, sad smile on his face. "Ruz is blaming himself."

You frowned, trying to sit up, wincing as your abdomen throbbed.

"Hey, hey, take it easy." Jay helped you sit up, making sure you were comfortable.

"Can I see the team? At least Adam, I want him to know it wasn't his fault." You looked at your husband, who nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead, heading down to grab the team.

------

After a few days, you were finally able to leave the hospital. You had signed the discharge paperwork, and Jay walked back into the room after pulling the car around, soft smile on his face when he saw you struggling to get her coat on, one arm still in the sling.

"Here, let me help," he offered, walking over to you. He helped you put on the coat, paying extra attention to not disturb your injured shoulder.

You met his eyes and offered him a soft smile. "Thanks, babe."

Jay just nodded, his throat choked with emotion. He was relieved that you were okay but knew you had a long way to go for your complete recovery. He gently took your hand, gave it a squeeze, and lead out of the room.

As they walked through the silent corridors, you leaned into him slightly. It was subtle but Jay noticed it immediately. He wrapped his arm around you, offering her comfort and support. The worry lines on his face seemed to deepen as they moved towards the exit of the hospital.

Outside, the city was bustling as usual. The harsh city lights reflected off Jay's face as he helped you into their car before moving around to sit in the driver's seat.

The ride home was quiet. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the occasional honk from nearby traffic. You were staring out of the window, mind lost in thoughts while Jay focused on driving, occasionally glancing over at his wife.

“Hey, Jay?” You looked over at him, voice quiet.

Jay hummed, glancing at you while he pressed on the gas petal when the light turned green.

“Just,” you paused, feeling a teenager in love again. “I love you.” ---- a/n: did u like it? also please don't expect good titles ever titles always make me wanna punch a brick wall

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #chicago pd #one chicago #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x fem!reader #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd fanfic

233 notes · View notes

kellykidd · 5 months

Text

No Matter What

*Gif belongs to its rightful owner, it is not mine*

Pairing: Matthew Casey x reader

Summary: From Anonymous: Hellooooo ‘Stay behind me no matter what.’ Matt Casey :) ~~ Matt Casey + Reader + Fire Call = Hookups in his Quarters (I don’t make the rules)

Words: 682

Warnings: Intimate moment, canon typical events

Read on Ao3 here

Notes: Sorry it’s so short, but I hope you like it Anon!

Join my taglist here

Tags: @mrspeacem1nusone @kiddbegins @pensfan5871

“Need any help with the inventory?” Sylvie asked.

“I think I’m finished up,” you laughed, "you bored or something Brett?"

"I know I've only been in Chicago for a few months, but this is the first shift I've had with no-"

"I'm gonna cut you off right there before you jinx us. Those who say the 'Q' word or even think about the lack of runs is a jinx to the whole house."

"How do you know this?"

"Candidiate a few years back-"

Battalion 25, Truck 81, Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambulance 61, building fire, 723 North Wabash

"Looks like you are the new jinx, Sylvie Brett," you laughed, hopping into the passenger seat of 61, "and the jinx gets to drive."

Sylvie started the short drive to the scene, "how's it going with you and Casey?"

"Good, yeah, we're in a good place. It's weird to date someone you work with though. I'd never done that before Matt."

"Helps that your crazy schedules are synced."

"True that," you giggled, pulling up to the fire.

You hopped out of the rig and grabbed the jump bag before heading over to Boden.

"Where do you need us, Chief?" you asked.

"Two still inside, owner needs to be checked out."

As you and Sylvie tended to your victim, you could hear the commotion between truck and squad.

'Chief, I need a medic inside if you have one to spare' your radio buzzed.

"You good here?" You asked Sylvie.

"Yup, go."

You threw your bunker coat on and grabbed the jump bag.

"Medic coming in now, Casey. Where am I going?" you said, hustling towards the fire.

"I'll come get you, we're turned around in here."

You stopped and waited at the door.

"Fire is pretty much out," he announced, "follow behind me."

You followed Casey into the building and up the stairs.

"Baby, I need you to stay behind me no matter what," Matt admitted, "I don't know what hapened in here and I don't want anything to happen to you."

You nodded and followed him up the stairs to the second floor of the building.

"Victim is over here. Burns and possibly a neck injury as far as we can tell.”

“Thanks. Conscious?”

“In and out.”

You leaned down beside your victim.

“I’m a paramedic, I’m here to help you,” you introduced yourself as you undressed the victim of his jacket.

“Matt, you’re right. I’m worried about a neck injury. Grab the collar.”

Your boyfriend, now assistant, handed you your supplies.

“Help me get him out of here. It’s getting hotter in here.”

He nodded, picking up the jump bag beside him and handing it to you.

“Got him?” You asked.

He nodded and brought your victim outside.

After finding Sylvie, you loaded up the victim while Sylvie got the oxygen ready for the ride to the hospital.

——

Returning to the house after your run, you looked in the ambo’s mirror.

“Brett, did you seriously let me ride around with soot on my face?” You laughed, trying to rub it away.

You walked into the now full common room with your partner.

“So are we finally gonna convince you to take the firefighter’s test?” Herrmann asked.

“Haha, very funny Herrmann. 61’s my home, always will be.”

“I’m sure we’ll get you over here at some point,” he chuckled.

You ducked out of the common room and into the bunk room, where you peeked into Matt’s office.

“Got a minute?” You asked.

“For you? Always.”

You locked the door behind you.

“You know,” you laid down, semi-seductively, on his bed, “they way you said ‘stay behind me no matter what’ on that last call was-“

He leapt up from his chair and drew the blinds.

“Was what?” He smiled.

“I was kinda sexy,” you grinned.

“Oh yeah?” He leaned in for a kiss.

“Yeah.”

“You know what else is sexy?” He broke the kiss for a moment, “you with all that soot on your face.”

“I guess we should do something about these feelings then, huh Matt Casey?”

“I think you might be right.”

#Matt Casey #Matthew Casey #Chicago fire #Matt Casey fic #Matthew Casey fic #Chicago fire fic #Matt Casey x reader #Matthew Casey x reader #Chicago fire x reader

143 notes · View notes

kiddbegins · 2 months

Text

Secrets Kept - Matt Casey [Pt. 1]

Requested: kind of. The request I got gave me the idea, but I decided to split it up into a mini-series on my own

Word count: 3,759

Warnings: nothing really tbh

A/n: that little comment she makes is a canon event for me... didn't break my wrist though

Masterlist

Working at 51 was a blessing. Truly. Moving to Chicago from the east coast and so having a group of people practically invite you in with happy, open arms was exactly what you needed.

You were content with your crew, the boys shockingly open for having you be one of their first female firefighters, even the older men of the group were welcoming. Something you were sure was by some grace of god.

Regardless, your first year has been going great, and the closer you got to the one year mark the more you wanted to tell your lieutenant of your plans to apply to squad. Sure you could have put in an application months ago, got a head start on things, but you wanted the regular truck experience under your belt.

Get to know the way the Chicago fire department worked, get to know the people in the house in case you were detailed to somewhere that wasn’t 51. Which would suck. Not only because you liked the crew, 81 specifically but Severide was someone you wouldn’t mind working under.

“What are you thinking about?” A voice pulled you out of your thoughts and back to reality which was that you were staring in front of you at the mug that was still sitting completely filled.

You lifted your head, shrugging faintly as Stella took the spot across from you, “Uh, nothing, honestly. Kind of just zoned out.” In an attempt to cover the fact you were lying, you chuckled, “Not my best habit.”

Stella nodded, crossing her arms. “Yeah I have noticed that about you. Except that was usually when you were looking at someone,” A smile on her face as she not so subtly gestured towards the lieutenant at the opposite end of the table.

There was no real way to hide the way your cheeks tinged pink, a light scoff leaving your mouth. “I… I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” You tried to divert your attention to the mug in front of you but Stella’s smile tightened.

“Oh, you so do.” She laughed quietly, leaning closer to you, elbows to the table. “You got the hots for-”

“Shush, don’t you dare say a thing. If I’m admitting this to you, you’re being bound to secrecy.” Your finger pointing at her made her zip her lips with an imaginary key, tossing it over her shoulder. “Thank you. New conversation topic now?”

Stella nodded, starting to go off about how she was gonna try and get a job at Molly’s, put use the mixology knowledge she had tucked into her pocket to use. Except Herrmann was apparently not entirely sure that was a good idea.

You rolled your eyes slightly, “You’d be great, you’ve made me a cocktail before and it was freaking delicious.”

“Right?! Thank you.”

“Not to change the topic again but can I run something by you?” You took advantage of the pause in conversation, Stella gesturing forward, urging you to continue. “Do you think I’d be a good fit for squad?” The question made the other girl raise.

Her lips tugged down as she nodded, “I don’t see why not? I mean everyone is if they get the right training? Why? You thinking about leaving us?” Stella was usually supportive and that was pretty soothing.

When you first joined 51, she made sure you felt welcomed, and maybe that was why you got the open arms as you got used to those around you. “Leaving us?” Casey looked up from the magazine in his hands, Stella’s voice coming out louder than she meant to.

You turned to him quickly, shaking your head, “No, no, not leaving.” You attempted to clarify with a waving of your hands.“I just uh, I was kind of thinking about trying out for squad is all. And I wasn’t going to say,” A pointed glare at Stella, “ anything until I knew if I was going to go through with it or not.”

Matt put the magazine down, leaning forward onto the end of the table. “You wanna join squad?” His eyebrow cocked up, something being said in between the words that you couldn’t put your finger on. Not disapproval but also not support.

Some sort of middle ground. “Uh, yeah? Is that an issue?” Your voice came out just a bit snippier than it was meant to, reading too much into the way he seemed to not think she could do it? To not want her to do it? “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

Mentally you slammed your head to the table, Casey shaking his head slightly, “No, it’s okay, you just uh, never seemed like you had an interest in it before. That’s all.” He replied, eyes lingering on you before glancing at Stella who had sat back, watching the two of you talk.

She was perfectly content in staying out of the conversation, letting you and Casey continue at it. “I’ve been thinking about it for a couple months. It’s no biggie. Sorry if I should have told you sooner.”

He waved off the apology, it wasn’t like you owed him the knowledge of your interest in the switch. And you knew that as your lieutenant and friend that he’d support you whether you gave him a big heads up or not.

“No worries, keep me updated?”

“Uh, sure…” You glanced slightly at Stella before standing, making a beeline for… well anywhere but where you were. It didn’t have to be so awkward around Matt, hell it felt wrong to feel so awkward around him.

But he was just so open about welcoming you in with open arms and the fact that he consistently checked in at the end of shifts made you feel all… warm inside. And sure, he was just doing his job, being a lieutenant and/or being a friend, but you couldn’t help the fact it made you want to grab him by the face and kiss him.

Which is a totally normal thing to feel. Kinda. You collapsed into a chair out on the apparatus floor, forehead leaning against squad’s table, each of the other guys just looking at you in confusion. The table was meant to only be for them but she’d already taken to it.

“Well hello to you too,” Cruz laughed out, tossing his hand of cards onto said table in annoyance, “alright I’m out,” they were playing some card game you didn’t know, just listening to them bicker back and forth.

Mainly Kelly telling Capp that his hand was crap and that he wasn’t bluffing (he was), but mixed with him arguing the same thing back. You sighed as the game came to an end, Kelly winning just like you assumed he would.

“Severide, could I ask you something?” You asked as the others went inside, the food for lunch being done and them apparently starving from what Tony had said.

Kelly nodded, “Shoot.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to ask, didn’t want you to think I was looking for an in or something but if I was gonna try for squad, do you have any specific classes and stuff you recommend?”

He went off into an entire list of classes, your eyebrows lifting as you sighed, “God. Alright, uh, could you… write those down? At least the last few, I got the diving and the hazmat but other than that.”

Kelly chuckled before pulling the notebook on the table closer to him and jotting most of them down. “Here, if you need to, I give you full clearance to name drop me to the higher ups.”

“That offer is greatly appreciated Kelly, thank you.”

Later that night, as always, the firehouse met up at Molly’s. Drinking, chatting, snacking on the small bowls of peanuts that Herrmann put out. Everything.

You were currently sitting at the bar, Otis on the other side rambling on about how he would like to start offering at least some sort of food that wasn’t the nuts but Herrmann was apparently fully against it.

As he was with most things. “I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t want to. It would help the bar immensely, don't you think?”

Stella, who was sitting next to you nodded, but you didn’t answer. Too busy gazing off to the one man in the entire building that you couldn’t have. “Earth to y/n.” She muttered on behalf of Otis, sighing as she followed your line of sight. “Jeez, alright, look at me.”

Stella snapped her fingers in front of your face. “What, what?” You flinched, turning to her with a slight glare in your eye.

“What? Dude,” She lowered her voice and turned to be away from the man who got pulled away seconds later, “you were staring at Casey. Again. Look, either you suck it up and ask him out, or you throw your crush off the roof of a burning building into the chicago river. Because you can’t pine forever.”

She leaned away as Sylvie came over, sitting directly next to you. “Hey, what are we talking about? I don’t know how much longer I could listen to Casey talk about construction jobs.”

“I would.” You commented before sighing and shaking your head, forcefully pulling your eyes away from the blonde Lieutenant. “And uh, just firefighting stuff. I’m starting to train for squad.”

Sylvie nodded faintly, “Hm, right, I’ll just listen in then,” she chuckled, ordering some fruity drink right after. The conversation ended up mainly being about movies you’d all seen, and making plans to see a new one together soon.

After a while you sighed, “I think I’m done, gonna head home.” Stella frowned before nodding.

“Alright, be careful getting there.” She spoke, knowing you had a few drinks and were a decent lightweight.

You nodded before standing, putting your jacket on and heading towards the door. “Oh hey, you leaving too?” The familiar voice of Matt Casey caught your ear as you grabbed the door handle.

Softly you nodded, pulling it open and letting him out first. It wasn’t awkward per say but there was an unexplainable silence as you both walked to your respective cars, his truck parked right in front of yours.

“You shouldn’t be driving.”

“Neither should you.”

Matt looked over at you, eyes lingering just too long that you felt yourself go warm. He nodded faintly, “Fair enough. How about I walk you home then?” He offered genuinely, always happy to make sure someone got home safe.

Even more happy to walk and talk with you the entire way there. Not that you lived far but it was far enough that you’d be walking for a decent amount of time. “It’s a bit of a walk.” You muttered, hands deep in your pockets.

“I don’t mind.”

It was so hard to ignore the way those three words made your heart skip a beat. Like he knew how you felt and all that. You nodded just slightly, not trusting your voice to be steady as you started in the direction of your apartment.

In actuality it would have made more sense to uber. Get there quicker, no awkward conversation with the man you wanted to kiss regardless of all those regulations. But how could you have said no and wasted the way you walked together?”

“So, Sylvie said you have a construction job coming up? You only talk about those if you’re not sure how to do them.” You glanced over at him, the blonde chuckling in response. He was aware that he did that, but he didn’t know anyone else picked up on it.

Slightly he nodded, “Yeah, these people want a shed, but they want it two floors, with an actual staircase but they don’t have the space for one. It’s frustrating.” Matt chuckled, fondly glancing over at you as your eyes stayed on the ground in front of you.

You nodded, “What about a spiral? Those aren’t like, a lot of space right?”

Matt stopped, looking over at you. “That’s actually a really good idea. I don’t know how I didn’t think of that.” He laughed softly before continuing on next to you.

“My apartment has one that has definitely given me tons of space so, I figured I’d offer it up.” You shrugged faintly, smiling warmly to the man. “Glad it wasn’t a stupid idea at least.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever had a stupid idea.”

“More like you’ve never seen or heard my stupid ideas. I have plenty.” You joked as you turned the corner, taking the chance to look up at him, the same smile on your face that didn’t seem to want to go away.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, looking at you. “Maybe you should tell me some of them then.” When you looked over at him he had a soft smile on his face, as if he actually wanted to hear anything and everything you could have thought of.

You immediately blushed, the thought of sharing half of the shit you thought throughout both your life and more importantly, the shifts you had together. “Uh, mmm, maybe if I wanted to embarrass myself I would.”

It was a good reason, hopefully a satisfactory one. “Oh come on, we’ve been friends for how long now? I don’t think anything you tell me could be that bad.” Matt lightly elbowed you. It was nearly impossible to give in.

Like seriously, he looks over at you with the stupidest and shiniest blue eyes and you’re expecting to not give in but then he gives a reassuring smile and it’s like he flicked the heel of Achilles.

“God fine, only because I can’t say no to your stupid blue eyes,” You huffed, looking down at your feet as you paused at a crosswalk. “When I was a kid, I thought it was a good idea to ride in one of those red Little Tikes cars on my mom’s friend’s porch.”

Matt shrugged, “Couldn’t have been that bad?”

“There were no railings and I went right off the side. Broke my right wrist.” You laughed quietly, shaking your head, “Not the first time I’ve broken a bone because I thought something seemed like a good idea.”

He rolled his lips in an attempt to not laugh, failing as he chuckled in response, “Okay, maybe not your best call but hey, you managed to make it here and you’ve had better ideas now.” Matt offered, “Like that call at that house fire last shift.”

You waved off the comment, “Someone would’ve thought of that too.”

“But you thought of it first.”

You didn’t get a chance to retort, your apartment complex coming up in just a few more steps. “Well, this is me.” You breathed out, turning to Matt as you stopped at the front stoop.

He stopped, just barely glancing over your shoulder to the apartment building before back at you. There wasn’t a bone in his body that wanted to leave you. Talking just.. Came so easily. It was probably the simplest conversation he’d had all day and between the other firefighters and the higher ups he was forced to talk to that day, he needed it.

“Oh, alright.”

There was no way to deny the fact you didn’t want him to leave either. Maybe you should have just kept walking. Take a tour of Chicago as if you’d never been before, maybe that would be a good way to get him to spend more time with him.

Just slightly you nodded, stepping forward to hug him, arms over his shoulders. The choice you made to do that was split second, not giving any chance to second guess. Matt hugged back, only a tiny bit shocked.

He wanted to have his arms around you longer, his grip not loosening as you pulled back. Your arms stayed over his shoulders, eyes darting over his face. What was he doing? Why didn’t he let go?

His gaze was on you with the intensity of about a three alarm fire, “Casey?” You muttered just barely, unable to pull your eyes from his once they locked onto one another. It felt like there was buzzing all around as he just slightly leaned forward.

Against everything you wanted to do, you slightly pulled your head back, “Casey, we can’t.” You sighed, punching yourself mentally and repeatedly, wishing you could’ve forgotten that he was your lieutenant, your superior. That it was wrong.

“Why not?” He muttered, already knowing the answer. Matt wasn’t unknowing of the rules. “You’re trying out for squad soon right?” That was why he was acting differently. How you hadn’t realized that before was a mystery to you.

You gaped slightly, “I mean yeah, but that’s not for a while.” You wanted to give in. Truly it was like he was mentally pulling you in and you were just strong enough to not let it phase you. Sort of.

But squad was far out. Months away. Hell you hadn’t even applied yet. But for some reason, Matt didn’t seem to really care. Well, he didn’t mind, but you on the other hand, were worried.

Matt moved a hand from around you, putting it on the side of your face, “It’s still going to happen.” He moved slightly closer, your body not moving that time. It wasn’t like he was wrong. It was going to happen.

What exactly could go wrong?

He noted the lack of rejection that time, eyes locking on yours before onto your lips, officially moving the rest of the way and pressing into a kiss. Every single neuron in your brain seemed to fire at once, your body immediately going warm.

Matt kept his hand on your cheek, your arms over his shoulders just enough to keep him to you. The way he held you made every thought, every bit of concern fly right out of your brain. As if you never even thought of it.

You leaned in more, grabbing at the front of his jacket like he’d suddenly disappear if you didn’t. He pulled back just slightly, the both of you needing to breathe. “Do you want to come upstairs?” Your voice was soft and low, Matt almost immediately nodding and muttering a yes under his breath.

In seconds you dropped your hand to grab his, pulling him upstairs and into your apartment.

The last thing you expected in life, well, in the last few months anyway, was to wake up to your boss looking over at you. Matt Casey being the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes made your breath catch and your heart nearly stop.

If you didn’t already think he was attractive, the way his hair was tousled from the night before along with the lazy smile that grew on his face at the first sign of your consciousness would have been enough for you to sleep with him.

Again.

Oh fuck, you slept with him. With god damn Lieutenant Casey. “Oh my god, we-”

“We did.” Matt cut you off, looking down at you, “And if you want me to leave and forget it happened I will. But if it matters at all, I would like to not do that.” He spoke soothingly.

Once again you were a snake and he was the charmer, calming you down as you sighed, “Don’t leave, but we definitely need to talk about this because honestly we shouldn’t’ve done this and if Boden finds out or worse-” Matt leaned down to kiss you, his lips probably the best form of being shut up you’d ever had done.

He hovered over you, a hand next to your head, “Breathe. It’s okay,” His hand moved to stroke through your hair. “Just, take a second.” Maybe it was you being blinded by your feelings but you felt like you had to listen, sighing softly.

“Go ahead.”

“Alright, maybe last night was a lapse of judgment, but, I have wanted to do that for at least the last two months.” Matt started, moving to sit up in the bed, you following suit, the blanket pulled up over your chest.

You could tell he wasn’t done so you simply nodded, “And finding out you wanted to try out for squad was probably the best thing I could have heard cause, working with you but not being able to do anything was suffocating me.”

Matt picked at a loose string on the blanket before he continued again. “If it means anything. I want to do this. Be with you.”

“Casey, we wouldn’t be able to at work-”

“So we don’t tell anyone. I don’t care if I have to become a hermit if it means being able to be like this again. And, I don’t just mean the sex. I mean, sitting and talking. Laying together. All of it.” His words were convincing. Almost like an angel on your shoulder.

Of course there was the devil part too. Your own thoughts being the negative side. Except, what exactly was there? Sure, no kissing or hand holding at work but would that be much different than the usual already? No.

Maybe it would be worth it. Having time like this with Matt was alluring. It was something you’d been thinking about for ages so why were you so hesitant to do it? “You’ll have to promise something then.” You spoke after a few moments.

“Anything.”

You let out a soft sigh, biting your lip, “You don’t treat me differently at work than how you always do. No, suddenly not putting me in harder situations. Or dangerous ones. I’m still a firefighter and I’m still a good one.”

Matt nodded, “You’ll still be one of my subordinates. No special treatment. I think in turn that means I have to tell you not to do anything stupid and expect me to let it slide.” He added and you immediately nodded.

“I expected nothing less. I won’t expect anything special and you don’t do anything special.” You thought before holding out your pinky to him. Matt looked at you with amusement. “C’mon. Pinky swear. Everyone knows that if you break one of these you get bad luck or whatever.”

Matt chuckled, nodding as he latched his pinky to yours. “Alright, I promise.” After a couple moments, you sank back into the bed, looking up at him. Without needing to say anything, he leaned over and pressed a firm kiss right to your lips.

“This mean you’re my girlfriend then?”

“I believe it does.”

“Perfect.”

JOIN MATT'S TAGLIST HERE!

tags: @winchesterszvonecek, @halsteadbrasil, @wnbweasley, @firetruckstuckley @onechicagogrl @whiskeymeaway92 @neapolitantoebeans @kellykidd

#matt casey #matthew casey #matt casey x reader #matt casey writing #chicago fire #chicagofire #chicago fire fanfic #fanfiction #one chicago fanfiction #matt casey imagine #matt casey one shot #one chicago x reader #x reader #teddy writes #teddy writes matt casey #teddy writes chicago fire #teddy writes one chicago

75 notes · View notes

omgrachwrites · 4 months

Text

World on Fire - Chapter Two

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Summary: A funeral and a job offer pull you back to Chicago. Back to him.

Warnings: fluff, angst, swearing

A/N: I know that non of this fits with canon but lets just go with it! I hope you guys enjoy this and please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

Chapter Two

The smile you threw Meg was apologetic as you dragged a comb through your hair and ran down the stairs in search of your shoes. You’d had a crazy twelve hour shift at the hospital – Meg was thrilled to have to stay with your parents – and you’d overslept. Meg looked so much like her dad as she narrowed her eyes at you and folded her arms.

“I’m sorry baby,” you kissed her forehead, “you look nice. Ready for the party?” Meg was having a good time in school – despite her complaints about it – she’d been invited to her best friend’s brothers party that ‘The Beef’ was catering for.

“Mum, we’re gonna be late!”

“We won’t be, sweetie, I promise. I’m ready,” you toed your shoes on and then you were out the door.

Thankfully, you had missed the early morning rush and you made your way through the streets without too much hassle. You glanced over at Meg who was gazing out of the window, she’d taken to Chicago a lot quicker than you thought she would have. Better than you had taken to it anyway.

“Called your dad today?” you asked.

Meg hummed in response as she glanced back at you, “yeah. He says he misses us, misses you.”

You sighed as you glanced back at the road, “Meg, me and your dad are not getting back together. We tried, it didn’t work.”

Meg made a face, “then you need a date.”

You laughed, “what makes you think that I need a date?”

“Because you’re cranky.”

You raised an eyebrow as you pulled up outside the house, “I don’t think so,” you scoffed as you looked over at her, “I’ll pick you up at 6, okay?”

Meg nodded, “are you sure that you don’t want to come in? Your friend Richie will be there.”

You smiled as you tucked a flyaway curl behind her ear, “I’m sure baby, you have a great time.”

Meg kissed your cheek and got out of the car, you watched her head up to the house and made sure she got in okay. You didn’t restart the engine, you sat there for a couple of moments, looking up at the house as you debated on whether you should actually go in or not. After a good few minutes you decided to listen to your daughter and join the party.

It was Richie who opened the door, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth, “hey,” he grinned, pulling you in for a one armed hug, “good to see you.”

You laughed as you hugged him back, “and you. Jimmy won’t mind that I’m here, right?”

“Nah, course not. C’mon, let’s go and grab some food.”

Richie led you through the crowded house and into the backyard. Meg was talking to a guy with curly hair who was cooking hot dogs on the grill. As you came outside with Richie, Meg turned to look at you.

“Mum, you came!”

The guy Meg was talking to turned around and you felt the smile slip from your face as you stared at the handsome man. His hair was a little longer than it had been in high school, a couple of scars littered his cheek and he’d gotten some tattoos. His eyes though, his eyes were the same.

“Y/N,” he breathed, you didn’t know how to feel about him saying your name like that after so long. You wanted to hate it, you wanted to hate him. But you didn’t.

“Carmy, you’re back,” you didn’t know what else to say. Why hadn’t Richie told you he was back? Carmy nodded as he stared at you, the atmosphere was a little awkward. That was until Richie spoke.

“You gonna fuckin’ stare at her cuz, or are you gonna get her a hot dog?”

You laughed as Carmy rolled his eyes and he began to make you a fresh hot dog. Meg went over to join her friends as Richie poured you a cup of the luminous green punch.

“This meant to be the shit from Ghostbusters?” you asked, giving it a tentative sniff. Richie nodded and you took a small sip, “it’s good,” you laugh.

Richie went to cause chaos elsewhere, leaving you with Carmy. You thanked him as he passed you a hot dog and you slathered the sauce on top.

“So, you’ve got a kid huh?” he started with a raised eyebrow, when you nodded he busied himself with dishing up more hot dogs for the kids, muttering beneath his breath, “never knew that you wanted kids.”

You scoffed as you took a bite of the hot dog, trying to ignore how good it tasted, “well you know we never really got to have that conversation did we?” your voice was unintentionally bitter and you saw Carmy almost recoil.

“Yeah I know. Look, Y/N, I’m,” you cut him off, you didn’t have time for this.

It was funny, you had waited years for an apology but now, you didn’t want to hear it, “Carmy, you don’t have to say anything. Y’know, I can’t blame you for how you felt.”

The guilt was clear in his eyes and that honestly wasn’t your intention. You couldn’t say that you were necessarily happy to see him back but you weren’t going to be a complete child about it. You took another bite of the hot dog as you let the silence stretch between you, the only sound was the sizzle of the grill and the party going on inside the house.

“I’m really sorry about Mikey, Carmy.”

He let out a nervous laugh as he bent over the grill, refusing to look at you. He’d always been that way when he was nervous, “thanks, that’s er, that’s really nice of you. I know how much he meant to you as well, so y’know, I’m sorry too,” he smiled as he finally met your eyes, looking vulnerable and lost, “he left me the restaurant, Y/N. In his will.”

You couldn’t say that you were surprised, Mikey loved that restaurant and he loved his brother even more. What did surprise you was the bitter look on his face, it seemed as though a lot had happened while you were in London. But, you weren’t going to unpack that right now.

“That’s why you’re back?”

He nodded as he ran his hands through his hair, looking conflicted, “need to get the restaurant up to scratch.”

“And then?”

Carmy scoffed, rubbing a hand down his tired face, “and then. I don’t know,” he swore beneath his breath as he tried to squirt some ketchup onto the hot dogs but none came out.

You laughed a little as you watched him shake the bottle, his brow furrowed, “need some more ketchup?”

“Yeah, yeah, that would be great thank you.”

You nodded at him as you walked back into the house, managing to make your way through the group of pre-teens as you headed for the kitchen. You opened the fridge and found a half empty bottle of ketchup towards the back of the fridge and you grabbed more relish in case Carmy needed it.

As you turned to go back outside you saw Richie arguing with Jimmy and you walked over to them. Jimmy greeted you with a welcoming smile, “hey kid. Good to see you.”

“And you, Jimmy,” you smiled before you glared at Richie, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me Carmy was back!” you hissed.

Richie held up his hands in mock defence and plastered an innocent look on his face, “it didn’t seem important.”

You scoffed, “didn’t seem important? Oh, and I suppose you told Syd not to mention anything either?” you’d met Syd at the restaurant on a day when Carmy clearly wasn’t there and you guys had become pretty close.

“Look, Y/N! I don’t know what you want me to fuckin say, you were heartbroken when you and Carm split. Sorry if I didn’t want to upset you.”

Richie’s words made you feel guilty but you pushed it right down. You shook your head as you pushed past him and went back outside to Carmy. Natalie was out there talking to Carmy but she looked pissed, she’d told you that she wasn’t coming and had conveniently left out the part about Carmy being back. Did everyone think you couldn’t handle it?

She waved at you as you came outside and she pulled you into a hug, “hey, you.”

“Hey,” you smiled as you put the bottle of ketchup and relish on the table, “good to see you. Thought you weren’t coming.”

She shrugged as she glared over at Carmy, “thought it was stupid not to come just because I’m pissed with Carmy. I’d never go anywhere if that was the case,” she laughed, when she realised what she’d said she shot you an apologetic look before she quickly changed the subject, “how’s work?”

You made a non-committal noise as you poured yourself another cup of the punch, “it’s going pretty well. Meg isn’t exactly thrilled with having to spend the nights that I’m at work at my mom’s.”

Nat laughed and pulled a face, you knew by her look that she remembered what your mom was like, “I’ll take her when you have to work.”

“No, Nat. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

She laughed, “well that’s good because you’ll notice that I didn’t ask, she’s a great kid.”

Carmy nodded in agreement as he looked up at you, “she is, looks a lot like you.”

You laughed as you watched your daughter with her friends, “yeah, she’s got her dad’s attitude though.”

“Is he awful?” Carmy asked.

You looked up at him, his cheeks and nose were red from the cold and his curls were blowing in the wind slightly. There was genuine interest in his blue eyes as he waited for you to answer his question.

You sighed and looked away from him, shaking your head, “no, her dad’s great, we just um,” you trailed off, “let’s just say Meg was the only good thing to come out of our relationship.”

Carmy opened his mouth to reply but he was cut off when Meg walked over, “Mr Carmy, can I get another hot dog?”

Carmy grinned, “sure kid.”

You watched with a smile as Carmy quickly whipped up a hot dog, helping her put on the mustard along with the crispy onions and relish. When you and Nat approached Meg with the idea of her staying with Nat while you were at work. The look of relief on her face unfortunately told you that your mom was just as awful to your daughter as she was to you.

After the party you were driving home and you couldn’t ignore the happy look on Meg’s face as she ate another hot dog. Carmy had made her one for the road.

“You know mum, if you’re not getting back with dad, you should date Carmy.”

You laughed, “oh god, you don’t think he’s cute do you?”

Meg made a face, “ew no! He’s old like you but he’s really nice mum, he’s really nice to you.”

You held back a scoff, if only she knew. You hadn’t forgiven Carmy, and you probably never would, “yeah, maybe.”

#carmy #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy x y/n #reader insert #the bear #the bear hulu #angst #fluff

77 notes · View notes

myosotisa · 9 months

Text

It's been a long year - e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader

ǁ tags: angst, hurt no comfort. major character death. everybody dies. its just sad. its really just so fucking sad and thats it. gender neutral reader, no pronouns used, no y/n. canon compliant. honestly? dont read it. i just wanted to cry for 30 minutes straight.

ǁ word count: 800

It wasn’t supposed to go this way.

1986. It was supposed to be the year. The year you both got out. The year to end all years.

You and Eddie were going to go to prom underdressed and over intoxicated. Spike the punch bowl. Maybe try to steal the crowns from the King and Queen.

You were going to graduate – walk across that stage and wait at the other side while he gave the entire crowd the bird, maybe gave Mrs. O’Donnell a big wet kiss on the cheek just for the fuck of it. Hold his hand while the two of you ran off like Bonnie and Clyde to whatever your next adventure held.

You were going to pack up in his van and just go. Take his savings from dealing and yours from slinging coffee, give Wayne the tightest hug imaginable and a promise to call, get in the passenger seat, roll the windows down, blast the escape mixtape, and kiss buttfuck Hawkins, Indiana goodbye.

Maybe end up in Indianapolis. Maybe Chicago. Maybe further. Hell, you’d take that stupid van to California if you could. You’d spend a weekend making it watertight and buoyant if you thought you could take it across the ocean. It didn’t matter, not at all. Not as long as you were hand in hand with Eddie Munson wherever you ended up.

To be fair, maybe you should’ve been more specific in your wishes. Maybe you should’ve clarified to whoever was listening that when you promised to love each other to the end of the line, through everywhere and everything, that you had planned for it to be a long time. Planned for it to be a lifetime of adventures together.

That was always the plan. Written in promises on the palms of your hands and then collapsed together, letting the sweat and tears smudge the pen into a pool of ink on your intertwined fingers. A promise made in blood and sacrifice and in sickness and in health and in breaking the law and in dinner with Wayne on Sundays and in stolen kisses and in lost virginities and in first and only loves.

It was always ‘you and me against the world’. Spoken to the stars above Lovers Lake and the faded glow in the dark stars above his bed and the dark screen at the drive in theater and the back of his throne at Hellfire and into the carving of your initials in his locker. ‘Til death do you part.

Maybe this was the cruel joke of a cruel god who heard ‘you and me against the world, til death do you part’ and thought, “I can make that happen.” Malicious compliance to the promise the two of you had written on your skin in sharpie like it would last a lifetime.

Because it’s true. Laying on the grey floor of an alternate dimension, hand in hand with the love of your life – it's you and him. Growing cold, rapidly losing blood and feeling, pain fading away into near nothing. Just your hand in his.

It's choked, feeling like you're drowning in your own blood as you stare up at the darkened sky, you ask, “Hey Ed?”

His fingers move in your hand, the best answer he can offer. He’d taken the brunt of the attack at first, trying to protect you. Part of you wants to look over at him, just one more time. But you can’t even turn your head. Can’t do anything but stare at the sky that isn’t yours and watch it sometimes flash red like the blood pouring from your body. And maybe it's better that way. You can remember him in your mind, behind your closing eyes. Happy, smiling, shirtless in bed, a face smeared with mashed potatoes, and a ring of yours on a chain around his neck that you’d traded for his guitar pick.

You do wish you could hear his voice one last time though. Maybe he wishes that too.

“I think I–” a cough, a gasping breath that feels like knives and fire, a whimper of pain. “I think this settles it. I… I don’t think we would have survived in a horror movie.”

And he makes a noise, his hand lightly gripping yours again before going almost limp in your grasp. You know he’s slipping faster than you. You tell yourself the noise was a laugh. That you could make a shitty joke at the end of the world and he would appreciate it. That it was the right thing to say.

And even though it probably doesn't change anything. Even though it hurts so fucking much. Even if you don't actually know if he can still hear you anymore. You just have to say it one more time.

“I– I love you, Eddie Munson. ‘Til the end of the line.”

I wanna love you ‘til we’re food for the worms to eat. ‘Til our fingers decompose, keep my hand in yours.

thanks for reading. sorry.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt no comfort #eddie munson image #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #myos ideas #myo4munson #Spotify

125 notes · View notes

gallavichfanficlibrary · 11 months

Text

✨ Hey guys! ✨

Just wanted to share some recent fics that you may have missed out on :) Just some stories we enjoyed in the last few months.

First of all, I want to mention several new-ish authors whose works we loved. I'll link some fics but check out their other stories too!

sam_writes_fics

sending my love (from the other side) - post 10x05: ian visits mickey in prison.

hey brother - mid-11x10: mickey and lip talk post-fight.

lalazee

The Thing About Living - AU. In which Ian Gallagher donates a kidney just to get a date with Mickey Milkovich. That’s it, that’s how it goes. Everyone gets a happy ending. (Genuinely one the rawest, most beautiful stories I've read recently. Don't let the heavy theme turn you off.)

Of Going Home - Superpowers AU. A famous superhero Ian is forcibly put on leave from his job and returns to the Gallagher house, a failure all over again. Not only does he not know what Mickey does when the world goes dark, he doesn't know that Mickey is still living southside at all.

pinkpantherman

burnt by fire without trial - they get each other off on a couch. their couch. that's it

look at the situation they got me facin’ - Set in S1, Mickey's POV. PWP with bottom Ian.

roseapothecarys

quiet - 5 times Mickey lets his guard down, as observed by various third parties.

OnlyFans!Mickey series - What happens when your roommate comes home and finds you making a solo sex tape in the living room for your hordes of horny online followers?

***

And some fics separately!

One-shots:

hold steady - Those big hands hold a special place in Mickey’s heart.

to be gentle, to be soft - a series of four vignettes from their third year of marriage.

call me what you want - Post-canon. Ian's POV one night when he can't sleep in their new apartment. A great character study.

Full of it - Mickey knows he hasn't had the best track record, but is tired of the constant surprise from people when he can do normal things.

counting the heartbeats - It’s been a month and three days since their first kiss.

Hot Sugar - To settle a petty argument, Ian, Mickey, Lip and Carl end up at a shooting range and Mickey discovers he has quite a bit of a competence kink.

Drive-by BJ - The nice thing about driving a converted ambulance is all the "head" room it affords you.

Pushing Luck - All about their second kiss. Set after the robbery and before the-sleepover-we-don't-talk-about.

Thirteen Hours - Ian has known for thirteen hours that he’s not crossing the border with Mickey, so he makes the most of the time he has left with him.

all i need in this life of sin (is me and my husband) - Ian wants the two of them to have more friends. Mickey doesn’t.

27 - Ian Gallagher is another year older, Mickey knows exactly how to celebrate.

The Demon Made Me Do It - Mickey allows a demon to possess him, but the demon-Ian-has different ideas about what that means.

baby don't stop - Post-canon. Ian and Mickey settle into the ups and downs of domestic life.

How To Bag A Baddie - Wrong number AU. Ian gets a threat from an unknown number. He gets curious.

and he says, “it’s no big deal,” - Frank headbutts Ian again, and Mickey witnesses the outcome. Needless to say, he’s more than pissed.

The Taming of Mickey Milkovich - Mickey has missed Ian and is being a brat. Ian takes care of that.

Like sunrise on a summer day - Mickey is a famous painter, specialised in doing portraits and Ian is a vampire who hasn't seen his own face in over a century and would very much like to change that.

Warmth - It's a lazy winter Sunday.

WIPs:

Mickey The Unfriendly Ghost - Ian is finally in a position to move out of the Gallagher family home and into somewhere by himself. Things start to go downhill when strange things start happening in his new house.

The Exchange Student - Ian is a British exchange student in Chicago, and Mickey is his 'holiday fling', as much as they can ever have a fling, that is.

Africa - AU. When Ian lands himself an internship with famous wildlife photographer Mickey Milkovich he can't believe his luck. Spending one month traveling through South Africa with his big hero is a dream come true.

second chapters - When Mickey’s PO assigns him a job at the local library, he’s pleasantly surprised—not that he’d ever admit it. Practically lived in the prison library, and what better way to start his new life than with a career he might actually enjoy.

Finished fics with several chapters:

Designs on You - Ian has just moved out of his family home to live on his own for the first time. Working as a paramedic, he’s finally happy, stable, and moving forward with his life. But first, there’s one last remnant of his past self that he needs to let go of: his accidental porn tattoo of his late mother.

Dead Meet - Online dating AU. Ian's life is great but he feels lonely and doesn't want to be single anymore.

We do Each Other’s Laundry in our Hearts Sometimes - A very sweet hybrid AU where the Gallaghers are all bird hybrids and the Milkoviches are all wolf hybrids.

Prelude Motel - AU. When Mickey’s secret spot is infiltrated by an intriguing stranger, all the warning signs are there. Despite the voice in the back of his head telling him to disengage, he can’t help but bite off more than he can chew, running straight back to the spot and the stranger when a job leaves him injured.

***

There are many more fun stories that's been written over the past six months, take a deep dive in the ao3 ;) Plus, we're patiently awaiting the Gallavich Week 2023 to start... So, happy reading! ^^

#gallavich fic rec #lists

117 notes · View notes

sjhhemmings · 4 months

Text

Evermore pt. 4

greg ‘mouse’ gerwitz x cassie voight OC

A/N: so there's going to be a little time jump to season 3 episode 11 of Chicago Fire where canonically Sylvie and Peter get kidnapped, Im thinking it’s still in about season 1 of PD though. I'm gonna change it a little bit so I hope it doesn't get too confusing...i'm going to try and stay as canon as possible but we'll see. Also don’t hate me for the timeline because I’m lowkey just as confused. (also idk why the spacing is weird, but i gave up trying to fix it.)

warnings: kidnapping, slight ptsd, swearing, violence.

word count: 4920

wattpad: sjhhoran

It's now been 3 months since Cassie's father, Hank Voight, has been out of prison.

Things at the firehouse have finally started to calm down, except for the fact that Gabby Dawson has now become a firefighter leaving Cassie on ambulance 61 with either Chout or McAuley until they find a replacement.

Despite Gabby's multiple attempts to assure Cassie it wasn't her fault that Gabby left, Cassie doesn't really believe it. However, Cassie is still proud of Gabby for pursuing her dreams either way. The talk they had a few weeks ago to clear the air and any hard feelings was...rough. To say the least.

Jay also took the job in intelligence under Cassie’s father so that was exciting.

Cassie is still shocked that Gabby didn't want to date Jay, he's a great guy. Not that Cassie would ever go for him, she's still his #1 wingman. Or woman. Wing-woman.

"Alright, everyone settle down. This is Sylvie Brett, she will be the new paramedic under Cassie." Boden announces at the morning briefing. Cassie sent a small wave to the new paramedic from where she was standing at the back of the room.

"Cassie is your PIC, anything you say or do on the job must go through her. Understand?"

"Yes sir." Sylvie said at the front of the room next to Chief Boden.

"Okay. That's all. Go out there, do your jobs and do ‘em good." Boden then said leaving the room before everyone else.

"Hi," Cassie said now walking over to her new partner.

"Hey, it's so nice to meet you, i've heard a lot." Sylvie said shaking the other paramedics hand.

"Thanks, it's nice to meet you too. I'm gonna say we should head over to the ambo to check inventory, is there anything you want to let me know before we start?" Cassie asks making Sylvie give her a questionable look.

"Yeah that sounds good. Would you be able to clarify what you mean by-"

"Ah, sorry. It's a force of habit with the rotators. I've been stuck with Chout for the last week and he's very...excited…like at all times. Then there was McAuley who was literally the embodiment of Debby Downer, I don't know I guess I was just asking if you were going to have some odd, personality thing that I would have to get used to." Cassie said chuckling as they make their way to the apparatus.

"Okay yeah that makes sense. Um I hope I don't have any personality thing, but if I do please feel free to let me know." Sylvie said chuckling nervously.

Smiling at Sylvie's innocence Cassie felt like they were going to be good partners.

"No complaints so far, I like you Brett."

After a few shifts of working together, Cassie and Brett felt like they fell into a pretty nice rhythm. It felt natural how well they communicated and worked together.

At the end of the last shift however, Cassie was visited by a victim's family member. A patient she had treated when she briefly worked with Peter Mills before he eventually left to work at his family's restaurant. The patient had passed before they arrived at the hospital, and the father was more than upset with Mills. Something that Cassie had no control over.

"I need to speak with you," Cassie heard the all too familiar voice of Anthony Lullo called out.

The memory of meeting with Peter and Chief flashed through Cassie's brain where Peter had convinced both of them that Anthony wouldn't be a problem anymore.

"Looking back I'm glad that I didn't file a police report on him. He's in deep grief, and he deserves a pass on this." Peter's voice flashed through Cassie's mind.

Deserved a pass her ass, but she wasn't going to undermine Peter. He trusted his gut, and she trusted him. So, here they were.

"Mr. Lullo, please, I'm sorry for what happened but I really need to get home." Cassie said as she walked past him to her car.

"You're going to regret that." Is all Mr. Lullo responded with before leaving.

"Hey Chief, I just wanted to let you know that Anthony Lullo made another visit to the firehouse after last shift. He said he needed to speak with me and when I continued walking saying I need to get to home he mumbled something under his breath. I don't really know what he said, but just thought you would like to know." Cassie said making a pit stop to Boden's office who gave her a reassuring nod before she left.

"Who's Anthony Lullo?" Sylvie asked when her and Cassie were doing inventory for the ambulance.

"How do you know who that is?" Cassie asked confused.

"He approached me when I was coming into work today, told me to tell you that you need to talk to him. I don't know, I was just confused." Sylvie said defensively not really trying to get on Cassie's bad side already.

Taking a deep breath Cassie looked at Sylvie.

"Anthony Lullo was a patient's father that ended up coding before we made it to the hospital. I haven't seen him in a few weeks but it was starting to become harassment with how much he was coming around the firehouse. He ended up threatening my old partner, Peter Mills. It was this whole situation. I don't know why he's back though." Cassie admitted making Sylvie nod her head in understanding.

A silence fell through the girls as they finished looking through the medications in the ambulance before a call came through the intercom.

"Ambulance 61. Injuries from a fall. 815 South Nebraska."

"That's around the corner," Cassie said as they hopped out from the back.

"Can I drive?" Sylvie asked making Cassie chuckle.

"Sure."

Pulling up to the scene, Cassie and Sylvie immediately jump out looking for the victim. When they finally found him on the side of the street Cassie looked at Sylvie.

"Where'd he fall from?" Cassie asked as she looked at their surroundings, no visible places for a fall.

"You fell, sir?" Sylvie asked as she was putting her gloves on.

"My legs, my legs!" The victim screamed.

"Okay, can you take some deep breaths for me?" Sylvie asked as she began examining him.

Cassie still looking around as to what could've caused this injury, she saw a dump truck down the road. Uncovering blanket from the man's legs she sighed.

"He didn't fall. He was run over." She said agitatedly getting up and calling into her radio.

Once they finished doing what they could, they strapped the now unconscious patient onto the gurney

"He passed out from the blood loss. Let's get him to Chicago Med." Cassie said as they were working on getting him into the ambulance.

Quickly grabbing both the girl’s attention, a car pulled into the alley blocking in the ambulance.

"Who's that?" Sylvie asked with Cassie immediately recognizing the car.

*6 hours later*

"Halstead. Thanks for coming. Nice to have somebody we could trust on this." Matt says greeting the detective.

"Absolutely. Still no word from your paramedics?"

"No."

"Dumb question, anybody try their cells?"

"Yeah. No answer."

Once the pair find their way to the ambulance Jay immediately starts getting suspicious.

"Were they dispatched to this location?" He asks, heart dropping at the realization.

"Yeah."

"This could've been a set up." He said turning around and immediately seeing the hula dancer on the dashboard of the ambulance. The one he got as a gift for Cassie.

"What the hell happened here..." He mutters.

*6 hours earlier.*

"Hey, guys, we got a medical emergency here. We're gonna need you to move the vehicle." Cassie announces at the men who just stepped out of their car.

"Hands in the air. Keep your mouths shut." One of the two say as they both raise their guns at the paramedics.

"Woah." Sylvie mutters earning a glance from Cassie.

"Turn around!" One of them shouts making the other instantly yell at him.

"Keep it down! Now turn around put your hands behind your back." He says more quietly turning Cassie roughly.

"This guy needs to get to the hospital!" Sylvie yells getting another glance from Cassie.

"Brett, Brett. Hey don't hurt her please." Cassie says as they make their way to the car away from the patient.

"What is this?!" Sylvie shrieks.

"This doesn't have to be messy, just do what we say." One of them says as they throw the girls into the car.

"Please, let her go. I'm the one that he wants!" Cassie yells.

"He? Who's he?" One of them says with a smirk slamming the door in their faces.

"Where are you taking us?" Cassie asks as one of the men starts patting her down in the backseat.

"Shut up!" The man says as he gets a little too grope-y.

"Where's your phone, hun?" The driver asks as he reaches over for Sylvie in the front seat.

"Left hand jacket pocket." Shes says quietly as he grabs it and chucks it out the window.

"God, why did I have to be stuck with the grabby one." Cassie says looking at the man with a gun to her head.

As he pushed it farther into her temple she winced at the familiar feeling.

"Look, Jason Lullo sustained fatal injuries long before we arrived at the scene!" Cassie says earning an eye roll from the driver.

"Don't know what you're talking about. Just keep quiet now." He says as he continues driving recklessly.

"You gonna kill us?" Cassie quietly asked as she looked the man in the eye through the rear view mirror.

"You know everything is that it?" He asks with a smirk.

"Brett." Cassie quietly says as she looks out the window.

"Quiet!" The man with her said as he shoved the gun farther into her head.

"Brett, brace yourself." Cassie says before head butting the gun out of the man's hand and kneeing him in the face. Quickly kicking him in the groin after, Cassie moved over in the seat she wasn't buckled into and kicked the driver in the side of the head. Keeping her foot against his throat, this caused the driver to spin the wheel uncontrollably, inevitably crashing into a random scrap yard and making contact with a trailer trapping them inside.

*6 hours later*

Eventually finding the car, Jay and Cruz immediately get out to check it out. The thoughts running through Jay's head have him trembling more than he ever has on any case he’s worked before.

"Hey, this is Detective Halstead of intelligence, I'm gonna need you to run an Illinois passenger tag." Jay says into his phone watching Cruz check the car.

"Halstead...We got nothing. Car's empty. Looks like everyone made it out." Cruz says making his way back to the Detective.

"This happened hours ago. If Lullo's got them, they're dead!" Cruz says spinning out.

"Don't assume anything." Jay says trying to cover up his anxiety so he doesn't freak Cruz out any more.

"The hematoma's recollecting!" Cassie says looking at the driver's wounds.

"I thought you fixed him!" The other man says pointing a gun at the two.

"He needs medical attention." Sylvie says with attitude.

"Isn't that your job!?"

"Hey, we're paramedics, not doctors. You need to get him to an ER now." Cassie shouts back.

"This is your fault anyway, with that smart-ass stunt. Fix him, or i'll put a bullet in your head." The man says pointing the gun at Cassie again.

"This lump on your buddy's neck is due to internal bleeding. As it grows it presses on his trachea and that's what's causing the difficulty in breathing. It's only going to get worse!" Cassie says back to the man.

"So cut it open again!"

"That's only a temporary fix!" Sylvie now says butting herself into the conversation.

"Look. He's going to die unless we get this bleed tied off. We need to get to the hospital." Cassie says to the gunman.

"Might as well waltz into a police station!" The gunman says turning away from them.

"No hospitals." The driver on the make shift table mutters.

As his phone starts ringing he hands it to the other gunman.

"Don't answer it. Not if we're giving him bad news." He says obviously in pain.

"C-can't you guys tie off the bleed?" The very stressed out gunman asks.

"No," Sylvie says but not before Cassie says maybe.

"What? Cassie that's surgery."

"Look, if we do this, will you let us go?" Cassie asks looking at the guy.

"Okay. Deal." The gunman says walking off as he answers the second phone call.

"So this is what we think Cassie and Brett were in?" Gabby says looking worriedly at the car Cruz and Jay found.

"Yeah." Matt says sorrowfully as he opens the very, very, torn up door.

"Jay." She says as Detective Halstead made his way over to where she was standing.

"Gabby." He greets back.

"We gotta find them." She says looking at Halstead.

"We're uh, we're trying." He says almost breaking.

"Guys, I got some blood here!" Severide yells out pointing at the driver seat.

"Okay, at least one occupant is injured. Maybe they didn't get too far.” Jay says taking a step back to think.

“Okay, come here, everyone. Now!" Jay yells gesturing at the surrounding cops and firefighters.

"I want a tight perimeter, I want a K-9 unit, and I want a door to door search of the entire neighborhood. If you see anything that you think might be out of place, I want to hear about it." He says sending them off to their assigned tasks.

"Jay." Gabby says approaching him again.

"Hm?"

"She's my friend too. We'll find her." She says squeezing his shoulder reassuringly getting a tight lipped nod in return.

"Knife." Cassie says taking the blade from Sylvie and pressing it to the driver's neck.

Quickly pulling a gun on her she takes a step back.

"Hey! If you want me to do this, set the gun down now." She shouts a little startled.

As the other gunman takes the gun from the driver's hand, he sets it on a nearby surface.

"Okay. This is going to hurt, a lot. But I'm gonna do it fast. Kay?" Cassie asks getting a nod.

As Cassie made the incision on the driver's neck, she quickly turns around to set the blade down and grab something to use as a clamp.

"Hey, hey, that was the easy part okay?" Cassie says coming back and looking at the incision as he passed out from the pain.

"Hey, hey! What the hell did you guys do, what happened to him!?" The gunman yelled earning glares from both the paramedics.

"He passed out from the pain." Sylvie said now looking back down at the patient.

"Clamp it right here." Sylvie said looking at Cassie as she pointed to his carotid artery.

"You do realize what that will do right?" Cassie whispers with wide eyes.

Glancing down at the bloody table, Sylvie wrote 'Let him die.' in the man's blood.

After deliberating for a few seconds, Cassie shakes her head no and clamps the bleed. Looking back at Brett who scribbled out the words, Cassie gave her a specific look.

"Why so quiet?" The gunman asked.

"I uh, I'm clamping it off now." Cassie says as she took the blade out of the exacto knife they had and handed it to Brett.

"Okay, we're going to need to find someone to suture him up but he should be fine. Cassie says stepping away.

"You. Come here." The gunman says grabbing Brett's arm and taking her across the room.

"Hey! Wait! We had a deal, I need her!" Cassie says yelling at the man.

"I need to make sure he's okay first." The gunman says as he zip ties Brett's hands together.

As the man starts waking up, Cassie finishes putting some gauze his wound.

"See? All good." Cassie says looking at him.

"We'll see." The gunman says.

"The deal was, we fix him up and you let us leave!" Sylvie yells. Loud enough for Detective Halstead who's outside the door to hear. Something they're unaware of.

"I know what the deal was!" The man yells back.

"We gotta go now and the doors bolted, can you guys get us in!?" Jay yells at Casey who is already radioing for Severide.

"You said you'd rein in your partner, so how about it?" Brett yells as she secretly cuts the zip tie off her hands.

"Will you shut up!" He yells as he gets ahold of Cassie and holds a gun to her head.

"I knew we couldn't trust you two." Sylvie mutters as she finishes getting the zip tie off her hands.

"Drop the gun." Sylvie says catching the driver's , the gunman's, and Cassie's attention with the driver's gun in her hands.

"I said drop it!"

With a nod from the driver, the gunman shoots at Sylvie but not before Cassie moves his arm out of the way so the bullet catches the floor. As he fights back and fires again, Cassie is still holding his arm so his aim is off.

With his other arm that had a hold of Cassie, he lets her go to elbow her in the nose. Once he drops his elbow, Cassie punches the guy in the face. She then knocked him on his ass after he catches a kick in the balls.

As Cassie gets away to grab Brett, he continues firing at the paramedics.

Fleeing into another room and locking the door, Sylvie looks around to see that they're trapped.

"Shit." She mutters as Cassie blocks her from the bullets flying through the door.

"Stay behind me." Cassie says as she grabbed a metal pipe, preparing for when he breaks into the room.

Once he does the door flies off the hinges, and all of their attention's turn to the next sound.

"Chicago PD! Don't move, drop your weapon! Do it now!" Jay yells as they charge into the warehouse.

Watching as the gunman put his hands up surrenderence, Jay continues making his way to the gunman.

"Put your weapon down, get down on the ground. Now! Hands up behind your head!"

"Voight! Brett!" Casey yells as the girls make their way back to the other side of the door.

"We were in here." Sylvie says making her way through the door first, Cassie quickly following behind as she dropped the pipe and clutched her nose up. Probably broken.

"Anyone hurt?" Casey asks.

"Not me, Cassie got an elbow to the face though." Sylvie says breathing heavily.

"Sylvie!" Cruz says running up to her and pulling her into a big hug.

"Cassie," Jay says softly looking at his best friend once he got cuffs on the bad guy.

Basically falling into Jay's arms, Cassie quickly forgot about her nose.

"Hey, hey, hey, you're okay. Shh, you're okay." Jay said brushing his hand through the back of her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"Hey Cass." Gabby said making her way over to the girl.

As she pulled away from Jay's chest, she didn't leave his grasp as his hand still rested on her hip.

"Hey," she said pretty nasally as the Gabby pulled her into a hug of her own.

"Some pretty good partner bonding, huh?" Gabby asked making her chuckle.

"I'm glad you're okay." Casey finally says patting her on the back.

"Thank you, guys." Cassie said turning back to Jay.

"You need to go to the hospital." He said looking at her eyes that are already turning black and blue, along with her swollen nose.

"What? You calling this ugly?" She asked teasingly as they started walking out of the warehouse.

"No, no, just. Colorful?"

Playfully hitting him in the chest with a shocked expression, Jay quickly told another cop to take the perp in to the station and that he was going to go to the hospital with Cassie.

"So, your nose is pretty broken. If you look here, there's a slight fracture. We're gonna tape some gauze around it. Make sure you keep it on for the next 12 hours and rewrap it every 8-12 hours, for the next 48. It should heal in no time, make sure you ice it and take some pain meds." Doctor Rhodes explained to both Jay and Cassie in the trauma room.

"So i'm good to go?" She asked a little impatiently.

"Uh, yes. Maggie is getting your discharge papers now, but I do want to take a look at this hand." He said lightly grabbing her hand and examining her swollen knuckles. Sending butterflies through her stomach too.

"Oh, no, it's fine. I just ice it with pain meds and the swelling usually goes down within 24." Cassie said smiling and making a fist and opening her palm a few times in a row.

"Hm. Okay," Connor said sighing and looking between Cassie and Jay. "I'll get those papers to you. It's nice to see you're okay Cassie. Really." He finished with a warm smile and walking out of the room.

Jay quickly looked at Cassie's blushing face and starts laughing.

"You like him!" Jay teased making her blush harder.

"I do not!" She yelled back hitting him lightly.

"No, no, you like him like him, don't you?" Jay continued earning an eye roll.

"Okay so what if I do. I see him when I bring patients in sometimes...drop it." She said looking away.

"Okayyy." Jay said all sing-song-y making her roll her eyes again.

"Knock knock." her father said walking into the room.

"Hey, thanks for staying with her but you can leave now. Brett is down at the station but i'm gonna need you to question this Anthony Lullo when Cassie gets down there." He said looking at Jay earning a nod.

"I'll see you later." Jay said with a tight lipped smile as he walked out.

"You okay?" Voight asked making her nod.

"Yeah, all good. Fractured my nose, but I think I did the same to him plus some manhood damage." Cassie said making them both chuckle.

“I apologize for not being here sooner. Alvin and I were picking up the guys from the warehouse and finding Lullo. I have a question for you though.”

“What is it?” Cassie asked.

“How about you come stay with me for the next few weeks. You know, until this whole thing blows over and we know you’re safe.”

“What? You’re kidding right?” Cassie said laughing at his offer.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Hank asks crossing his arms over his chest.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Cassie says hopping off the trauma bed and grabbing her things.

“Look, you thought this thing ended what, three? four weeks ago? Then look at what happened today. Just until it blows over? Okay?”

Without saying anything Cassie just looks at her father and stares.

“Okay?” He asks again.

“No, not okay. Jay literally lives across the hall from me. If anything happens, I’ll be fine. I know self defensive, I can hold my own.” Cassie says defensively walking out of the trauma room.

Signing the discharge papers at the nurses desk, Cassie walked out of the hospital with Voight quick to follow.

“Can you please just listen to me on this?” Voight asked opening the passenger side door for Cassie.

“No.” Cassie then said slamming it once she got in.

“I’m gonna go downstairs with Alvin, I’ll meet you guys upstairs with Jay and Anthony. You and Sylvie will be on the other side of the mirror.” Hank said kissing Cassie’s temple as they both walked into the 21st.

“Who’s downstairs?” Cassie asked knowing what he’s going to do.

“Guys who like holding female paramedics hostage in a warehouse.” He said walking off.

“Cassie. Nice to see you again.” Trudy said greeting Cassie.

“Hey sarge. So since i’m a civilian now aren’t you supposed to have someone walk me to the interrogation room?” Cassie teased once she got to the sergeant’s desk.

Sighing, Trudy removed her reading glasses and looked at the girl.

“That was supposed to be your father’s job. I’ll do it though. Yo chump! Watch the desk until I get back.” Trudy says coming around and showing Cassie to a room she knew all too well.

“We have numerous witnesses saying they saw you make a serious threat against Peter Mills. Then showed up again to talk to Cassie Voight.” Cassie heard Jay say once she walked on the other side of the glass.

“My son was dead. I was upset.” says Anthony.

“Yeah, that certainly squares with the eyewitness statements. ‘Mr. Lullo was livid.’ , ‘Full of rage.’ , ‘Frothing at the mouth.’” Jay finally said setting the paper down in front of Lullo.

“Look, I went over there and I apologized to Peter Mills, and he accepted my apology. He’s a good kid.”

“But what about the part where you visited Cassie Voight? Multiple times, even after Peter Mills had stopped working at Firehouse 51.” Jay asked.

“I don’t understand what’s going on here. I thought you caught the men that took those paramedics?”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Jay said smiling at the man.

“Cassidy ignored my invitation to talk. Nothing happened since.” Lullo says sitting back into his chair.

“But why did you want to talk Cassie? I thought your issue was with Mills?” Jay asked trying to agitate him.

“Yes, but Cassie knew more.” Lullo muttered.

“What do you mean Cassie knew more?” Jay pressed.

“Nothing.”

“Oh c’mon Anthony. What did Cassie know?” Jay asked trying to poke the bear further.

“Cassie knew how slow she drove killing my son. Cassie knows that she is the cause of his death.” He admitted

“Your son was already dead by the time we got to the scene. We just prolonged how long it was before the inevitable happened, which was his heart stopping due to blood loss.” Cassie yelled as she bursted into the interrogation room, startling both Jay and Lullo.

“I don’t think she’s allowed in here detective.” Lullo said looking at Jay.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”Jay said covering for Cassie.

“Your son died due to his injuries. There was nothing we could do, but you need someone to blame. Is that it? Pointing a finger at someone that’s not you, or your kid?” Cassie asked trying to piss the man off.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lullo said chuckling and looking away.

“I think I do. Because if I didn’t, you wouldn’t be deflecting right now. If I didn’t you would still be pretending that you’re content with the fact it wasn’t one person’s fault that your kids dead.” Cassie said matter of factly.

When she didn’t get a response she scoffed.

“So you’re okay with that? That no one killed your son, and it was just his injuries? Oh c’mon. You need someone to blame. To fill your urge and get revenge. That someone killed him and they need to pay. Right?” Cassie asked.

“You killed him! If anyone killed my son it was that bitch! She was the one driving!” Lullo yelled surprising everyone.

“Your son was already dead before we even arrived at the hospital! It had absolutely nothing to do with my driving, and everything to do with the fatal injuries he sustained.” Cassie yelled back at the man not knowing how many times she could repeat herself over this matter.

“You all say that, but if you drove faster, he would’ve made it to the hospital, and he would’ve lived!” Anthony said standing and pointing at Cassie.

“Is that why you stalked me then? It was never about Mills was it? It was about the fact that I didn’t drive fast enough. So you stalked and harassed me, then hired someone to take me out?” Cassie pressed causing him to basically fume from the ears.

“Yes! You deserved to know what it was like to ride half alive while the person who was supposed to be helping you couldn’t care less about getting you help!” Lullo yelled.

“So you ordered a hit on me?” Cassie asked again. Waiting for the confession.

“Yes!” He seethed earning a content smile from Cassie.

“Jay, I believe you can handle this from here.” Cassie said walking out of the room.

Later on once they officially arrested Lullo and everyone was gathered in the bullpen, Cassie decided to stay behind and talk to her father.

“Hey, we wouldn’t have gotten him if you didn’t intervene. Good job, Cass.” Jay said patting her on the back.

“Jay, Cassie, my office.” Hank announced earning a confused look from the both of them.

“Uh oh, principal’s daughter called to his office?” Antonio joked getting an eye roll in return.

“I watched what happened.” Hank said as they shut the door.

“What do you mean?” Cassie asked confused.

“I mean I saw you get the confession from Lullo. I want you to know, I get that you didn’t like being a patrolmen. But, when I give you this offer you need to think about it from a detective’s perspective. You have all the training, you would even be able to start tomorrow. You have the balls. We need you. Cassidy, do you want to join intelligence?” Hank asked making her jaw drop.

tagging: @rockyhayzkid

25 notes · View notes

herrmannhalsteadproduction · 5 months

Text

500 Miles (Chapter Fifteen)

Summary: This is Part Nineteen of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Click here for the Series Rundown where you can find the links to read all of the previous installments (which I highly recommend you do so that this one makes sense.)

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz/Original Female Character, Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes, Assorted OC Couples

Warnings: Angst, Emotional Conversations, Dealing with Past Trauma, Swearing, Discussions of Past Drug Use, Discussions of Addiction, The Return of the Fluff

A/N: To underscore my previous note, this is an alternate universe so things have unfolded differently. This will not follow the canon arcs exactly by any means. But I hope you'll still enjoy it!

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Thursday Afternoon

***

Bex

Bex got out of the Tin Can, her heart beating rapid fire in her chest as she looked around the parking lot. What if he didn’t show? They couldn’t figure anything out if he wasn’t actually—

Oh.

Her breath caught as she spotted Mouse getting out of his own car a few spots away. She waited as he looked around. Saw the moment he noticed her. The look of relief flashing over his face had a slow grin spreading across Bex’s own.

They were gonna be okay. She could feel it.

***

Mouse

Bex was here. Mouse stood there, shocked, as she smiled at him and he smiled back, helplessly.

She came.

There was still a chance.

***

Bex

She let Kol out of the car, following when he instantly trotted over to meet Mouse. The two greeted each other like long-lost friends; Mouse crouching down so Kol could jump all over him. You’d think it had been months instead of only a few days.

Maybe Kol could tell Mouse needed some extra snuggles. He definitely looked like he did. A tiny flicker of satisfaction curled through Bex over the fact that he looked as rough as she felt. What? It was kind of nice to know she hadn’t been alone in her struggles this week.

Mouse stood up once Kol calmed down. His smile had faded and he was giving her a carefully measured look as he kept a bit of distance between them.

“Come on,” Bex said, nodding toward the trail. This was going to be easier for both of them if they were on the move and doing something normal-ish.

They walked for a while; sneaking glances at each other as they went. Bex wasn’t sure if she should start or let Mouse go first. They didn’t have the greatest track record on either front.

Passing by the bench from their last chat, Mouse steered them toward the next one. Kol immediately wandered off the path to nose through the bushes and Bex watched him for a moment to make sure there wasn’t anything dangerous around for him to snarf up. She turned back to find Mouse staring at her.

Enough of this. She was just gonna dive in.

“I’m sorry,” she said…at the same time that Mouse burst out with, “I’m so sorry.”

His eyes went wide as he jerked back. “You’re—Bex, what? You—you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“That’s not totally true,” she said, shaking her head and sighing. “Part of me didn’t want to hear what you were saying last time and I—I don’t want you to think that I’m not taking your concerns seriously. About your sobriety or our relationship. About anything.”

“I know,” Mouse said softly. He stepped closer, taking her hand and nudging her over to the bench to sit down. “I know that, Bex, but—”

“No, just—let me go first this time, okay?” Bex twisted around on the bench to face him. “You said something before about me thinking that if I care enough about you—and us—that it’ll see us through anything. And you were kind of right about that. I grew up seeing it with Chris and Cindy, you know? They love each other so much and they’ve used that to power through everything life has thrown at them. They’re kind of my blueprint.”

“My blueprint was pretty shit,” Mouse said, staring down at their intertwined fingers. “I’m glad you had that though and I don’t want to—to ruin that for you.”

Bex squeezed his hand. “We promised honesty, right? So, I’m not going to lie—I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to stamp that belief out of me. It’s part of my core.” She smiled when Mouse huffed out a little laugh.

“But this week has been pretty eye-opening in a few ways,” she said, thinking over everything that had happened. “The truth is that I’ve never dealt with anything like what you’ve been through so I have a lot of listening and learning to do still and I’m working on it. And I’m going to check out those groups that Chuck told me about.”

Mouse’s head whipped up at that. “Yeah?”

“I meant it when I said I’m taking this seriously. I understand better now that it means looking out for myself as well and finding those other places of support.” She’d already narrowed down her list to a couple that looked promising to try first. “So, don’t worry about me being alone in it all if something happens.”

“That’s—I’m really glad to hear that,” Mouse said, taking a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“If there was something else that became crystal clear this week it was that. For sure, neither of us is alone in this.” Bex shuffled closer to him on the bench, knocking her foot against his. “My support system was pretty good to begin with, but it definitely expanded a bit and I’m fairly certain yours, like, exploded.”

Mouse snorted. “You heard about Cindy’s visit?”

“Yup,” Bex said, grinning widely at him. “I would have paid good money to see your face when she showed up.”

“I swore,” Mouse said ruefully. “I didn’t mean to, but—it happened three times!”

“It takes a lot more than that to ruffle Cindy.” Bex leaned back against the bench, happy to see Mouse finally relaxing a bit. “Did it help though? Talking with her?”

He was quiet for a moment before answering. “It did,” he said. “I never would have thought—” Mouse shook his head “—it all ties together, you know? My group made me realize that I’ve been so focused on not going backwards that I haven’t let it sink in how far I’ve come. And how many people I have now. I feel like I’m finally seeing the whole picture.”

“That’s good,” Bex said. “I’m really glad to hear that.” It was a point she hadn’t been able to get through to him so she was so happy his group had been able to. There really was something to this ‘different people being able to provide help in different ways’ thing.

“Am I allowed to say my bit now?” Mouse asked, peeking at her sideways and she gestured for him to continue with her free hand.

He turned to face her, meeting her eyes as he covered her hand in both of his. “Bex, I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have given you an ultimatum like that. I was just—I was freaking out again. I’m sorry. I keep doing that to you and it’s not fair, but—you know, we were finally having the talk about everything and it felt like this huge step forward that there was no going back from and I—I—all I could think about was making sure you were protected. From it. From me.”

Bex blew out a breath. That was…a lot of stuff to unpack. “Okay, so first point because we really have to talk about this,” she began. “I have plenty of protectors, Mouse, and as much as I can appreciate it to a point…I don’t need another one.”

She steeled herself for the next bit.

“What I want is a partner,” Bex said. “And I’m really hoping that’s what you want too. If we’re doing this, you can’t make sweeping decisions for me. You just can’t. We have to be a team and talk stuff out. That’s not something I’m willing to compromise on. We both deserve that.”

“No, yes, you’re—you’re right,” Mouse said. “And I do—I want that. All of it.”

“Yeah?” Bex let out a shaky sigh. Apparently, she’d been expecting more of a fight on that one.

Mouse immediately noticed her wobble and nodded his head firmly. “More than anything,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice broke a bit. “And I’m—I’m sorry again for doing that to you. I don’t want that to be how we move forward.”

“Good, that’s good,” Bex said. “It won’t be then. And I mean, you talked about realizing how much progress you’ve made so look at how much progress we’ve made. That talk on Sunday—it was a necessary talk, right?” He nodded. “It was all things I needed to know and that you needed to bring up and that’s amazing. Sure, it kind of went shit-sideways for a bit, but we’re sorting that out.”

Bex let a smile spread across her face when Mouse shook his head, laughing quietly. They were sorting it all out. Slowly, but surely, they were getting there. As long as they could let themselves. “Finally having that talk though doesn’t mean we have to hit fast forward all of a sudden. We can keep things casual—” Mouse made a face. “—what?”

“I think that’s part of what’s feeding into all of this,” he said, freeing a hand to wave it vaguely in front of his heart and his head. “There’s nothing casual about the way I feel about you, Bex.”

How could one statement be ridiculously romantic and yet maddening all at the same time?

“I mean, you’re not alone in that,” Bex exclaimed, really hating how relieved he looked by her saying it out loud. He should know. How could he not know? “I don’t think either of us would be here if that was the case.”

“I wasn’t sure if you would be—here,” Mouse confessed.

“But you still came,” Bex couldn’t help pointing out.

“Leap of faith.” A little smile danced at the edges of Mouse’s lips. “Chuck said that’s what it takes sometimes when you’re, uh, trying to build something.”

“We both took one today,” Bex said. “It’s good—I think we’re on the same page again, yeah?”

Mouse nodded, but he chewed on his lip, something clearly still bothering him.

***

Mouse

Bex was right—they’d come so far and they’d talked stuff out and they were on the same page again and it was good…

What was stopping him from taking that next big leap?

Why couldn’t he stop being so fucking scared?

“I don’t think we ever stop taking those leaps,” Bex said gently. “It’s big and small ones all the time when you’re putting your trust in someone like this. Us still moving forward is another leap, but they don’t always have to be big ones. The point is that you’re making it. This can be enough for today.”

Wait—Mouse didn’t get it. Was she saying—

“It’s okay to not be fully ready, yet,” Bex continued. Mouse’s heart twisted in his chest when he realized she knew exactly where his thoughts had taken him. “I don’t want you to skip the steps you need just to jump ahead because you think we have to. Like we’ve reached an immovable milestone or something.” Bex squeezed his hand. “I know when we get there, it’s going to be amazing.”

“How can I ask you to wait even longer?” Mouse choked out. “I can’t keep making you—”

“Hey.” Bex pulled on his hands until he met her eyes. “You’re not asking, I’m offering. And you’re not making me do anything. It’s my choice. That’s an important difference, remember?”

“Bex…” He shook his head as his words left him and he tried to focus on accepting what she was offering him. What she was choosing to give him.

Time. Trust. Faith.

And the gift of believing he was worthy of all of that.

“I believe in us, Mouse,” she said, the most beautiful smile on her face. “I’m there, okay? And I’m willing to wait for you to get there too and we’ll take that freaking leap together.” She grew serious again. “The most important thing to me is that when we do, it’s because you’re ready. Not because you think it’s a step we have to take, but because you want this for you. For us. That’s all I need.”

Bex reached out to cup his face in her hands. All Mouse had to do was lean in a bit closer and he could kiss her. He wanted to. So badly. But it wouldn’t be fair to either of them to do that yet.

Not yet, but maybe…soon.

“It’s okay to take more time,” Bex was saying. “We’re doing this our way, remember? And the only people it has to make sense to is us.” She stroked her thumb over his cheek. “We’ll just keep figuring it out together. For every leap you’re ready to make, big or small, I’ll be here.”

Mouse did lean in this time and touched his forehead to hers. “Promise?”

She reached around to cup the back of his neck, holding him close. “Promise.”

In the space of one heartbeat to the next, when Mouse was seriously reconsidering his no-kissing-yet rule, Kol managed to come over and crawl half into their laps, reaching up to lick at their chins.

Bex leaned back, sputtering out a laugh. “Kol! You goofball!”

Kol barked, grinning at the two of them as he got back down and danced around in front of the bench.

“Someone was promised a w-a-l-k,” she said, shooting Mouse a sideways look. “We should probably do that before he gets even more squirrely.”

She got up and reached out a hand, pulling Mouse to his feet as well when he grabbed it. “Ice cream after?” she asked and Mouse marvelled at how normal it all felt again.

They’d had a horrible fight…but then they’d talked it out and—made a plan? And now they were moving forward? Simple as that?

It’s never as simple as that, an ugly voice in his brain said. You—

No.

Mouse stopped the voice in its tracks. Maybe it could be as simple as that. If he let it.

Time, trust, and faith.

“Ice cream sounds great,” Mouse said.

***

Thursday evening

*** Emery

At seven pm, the doorbell rang and Emery went to check the door cam before answering. She knew it was most likely Bex, who had texted that she was on her way over, but Emery wanted to turn that bit of safety consciousness into muscle memory.

Sure enough, Bex stood on her front porch, waving at the camera with a cheeky smile. Emery opened the door to let her in and Bex swanned inside. She kicked off her shoes while Emery locked up and then headed for the living room.

“Alright, let’s get this place party ready!” Bex had her hands on her hips as she cast a critical eye over the space.

And yes, Emery had asked her over so they could do some rearranging and make sure things were all set for the housewarming party on Saturday, but there was one thing that took priority.

“Spill first, move furniture later,” Emery said, herding Bex over to the couch. “How did the walk with Mouse go? What happened? Tell me everything.”

“Oof,” Bex chuckled, running a hand through her hair. “It was good, really good, don’t get me wrong, but it was a lot.” She didn’t sit down and motioned for Emery to get back up. “Let’s do this and talk at the same time. I still feel kind of wired.”

Emery leapt up, not about to argue if she was going to get all the (hopefully) juicy details and get her place party ready at the same time.

The whole story came spilling out of Bex as they pushed and shoved the couch and chairs around the room. On the one hand, Emery was so proud of Bex—and Mouse—for navigating all of that and working through things. It sounded like they were in an even better place which was great.

And yet—

“You still didn’t kiss?” Emery yelled, throwing her hands up. “Seriously? Oh, my god, I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“Because it’s about you,” Bex laughed, rolling her eyes. “Yes.” Emery grabbed her hands, eyes wide. “Think of my stress levels, Bex. My poor heart. This can’t go on much longer. Just one little smooch to cut the tension, I’m begging you.”

“Em—”

“I’m two seconds away from pressing your faces together myself,” Emery declared and Bex shoved her away, still laughing and shaking her head.

“You’re ridiculous,” Bex said, trying to catch her breath. “Listen, I’m happy with how things are and so is Mouse so let’s not push anything, but this couch.” She pointed at the new arrangement. “What do you think? Happy with this?”

Emery huffed, wanting to poke at things a bit more, but not wanting to upset Bex who did actually seem okay with everything. Then she looked around the room and frowned.

“Oh, no, this isn’t—why did we move this here? This doesn’t work at all.” Emery turned to Bex who was giving her a flat look and she shrugged. “My bad?”

The two of them burst into giggles, leaning against the couch.

“Okay, let’s move it back, you weirdo,” Bex sighed, smiling at her.

"At least we have one way of exercising our various frustrations," Emery offered. "Since no one's doing any kissing." She dodged Bex's swat with a cackle. “I love youuuuu!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bex braced her hands on the arm of the couch with a grin and started to push. “Love you too.”

***

Friday

***

Bex

Work was heating up for Jay—Intelligence had some kind of big case in the works which meant no training for Bex which she wasn’t entirely upset about. Her muscles could use the break. Jay said they might swing by Molly’s before the night was over though so she’d at least hopefully get to say hi.

As it was, Molly’s was hopping. Bex moved around behind the bar in a carefully orchestrated dance with Otis, Chris, and Gabi. It was an all hands on deck kind of shift.

Currently, they were multi-tasking working the bar while arguing about who would tackle inventory on Monday.

“The kids are done with their day camps,” Chris said. “I gotta be home to help, especially since I’m working here that night.” He grimaced regretfully. “I’m sorry to punk out, but with Cinds being pregnant…I promise I’ll try to make it up to you guys somehow.”

“It’s all good, Chris,” Bex said, patting his shoulder as she moved behind him to grab some glasses. “I don’t mind doing it.”

“Suck up,” Otis muttered and Bex smacked him with her towel while Gabi laughed at them.

“Let’s all remember this moment the next time Otis wants a favour,” Bex teased. He rolled his eyes at her, sighing.

“I’ll help!” Shay said, leaning over the counter. The four of them turned to stare at her and she shrugged. “It’ll be fun.”

Bex did not trust that glint in her eyes. She was definitely up to something, but Bex willing to deal with whatever it was if it meant an extra pair of hands.

“That’s two,” Bex said. “One more would be awesome…”

Otis and Gabi side-eyed each other.

“There’s only one way to solve this,” Gabi said, sticking out her hand. “Rock, paper, scissors.”

***

Shay

Shay sipped at her drink, thoroughly enjoying herself as a brutal rock, paper, scissors battle unfolded between Gabi and Otis.

Gabi, of course, won.

No one had informed Otis he had a tell and they weren’t about to anytime soon.

She patted his arm as he leaned against the bar, pouting. He’d be fine. Shay was a wiz at inventory and she planned on beating all previous records to get it done early on Monday.

Then she and Otis would be free to ask some very polite questions about how things were going with Bex and Mouse. Or she could send Otis to take the garbage out if Bex didn’t want to talk in front of him.

In any case, she was going to get some answers.

It wasn’t being nosy, thank you very much, Julie—it was just friendly, familial concern. She wanted to make sure things were going well and were back on track and—

Okay, she was just dying to know how it was going, full stop. She was only human!

And if being not-nosy on Monday didn’t work out, she could always try and pull Bex aside at Game Night on Wednesday.

Speaking of…

“Hey, Bex,” Shay called over to her. “Did you ever figure out what we’re doing for Outdoor Game Night?”

Chris snorted when Bex sighed heavily. “Outdoor Game Night?” he chuckled. “How did that happen?”

“It’s a long story,” Bex sighed again. “And no, Shay, I have not. I’m still trying to figure out the least painful option.”

“Hey, what about that game you used to make me play when you were a kid?” Chris asked. “In the backyard?”

Bex’s face scrunched up as she thought back and then cleared suddenly as a smile bloomed on her face. “Bex Ball?”

“Yeah!” Chris grinned back at her. “Why don’t you do that one?”

“Chris.” Bex grabbed his arm, shaking it gleefully. “You are a freaking genius.”

“I am aware,” he said as he passed a drink over to Kelly.

“What are we talking about?” Kelly asked, sipping at his beer.

“Outdoor Game Night,” Shay said. Since they were going to be outside, they’d extended the invitation to whoever wanted to come. It was shaping up to be a good-sized crowd. “I was asking Bex what we’re going to do and now it looks like we’re playing something called Bex Ball?”

Kelly turned to Bex, raising an eyebrow at her. “What the heck is Bex Ball?”

“Mm-mm.” Bex mimed zipping her lips. “You will find out about the gloriousness on Wednesday.”

Shay and Kelly looked over at Chris who was silently laughing at his end of the bar.

“What’s Bex Ball, Herrmann?” Kelly demanded.

“You’ll find out,” Chris managed to say in-between his giggles. He wiped at his eyes. “Ah, heh. Yeah. You’ll see.”

Kelly looked over at her. “Well, that’s not terrifying at all.”

“We’ve been through worse,” Shay said, clinking her glass against his.

“Not helpful, Shay. Not helpful.”

***

Saturday, August 22nd

***

Bex

Bex looked around Emery’s living room, pleased to see it packed with their friends and family. The house-warming party was going great. Sam, Devon, Isaac, Kira, Malia, and Bex had all banded together to organize the food and drinks, plus they’d brought plenty of pictures and art for Emery’s walls.

Everyone else had taken the request to heart as well and now the shelves and walls of her new place were full of images of friends and family and love. Even Lexi Olinsky had stopped by with a gorgeous blanket she’d made that matched perfectly with Emery’s couch.

Emery was getting more comfortable around the extended friend group which Bex was happy to see. She and Kim and Hailey were currently drinking wine over by the bookshelf, talking about a thriller they’d all been reading.

Bex hadn’t thought that the Intelligence gang would be able to make it with how their work schedule had been, but they’d all managed to show up a few hours in.

Including Mouse.

Bex spotted him talking to Jay, Will, and Connor across the room and gave him a wave. He sent her a crooked little smile in return.

He’d already pulled her aside earlier, apologizing for the fact that he wouldn’t be able to make their walk tomorrow, but Bex had waved him off, reminding him they had time. She knew this case was pulling them into some late hours and honestly, she was just glad they’d been able to squeeze in stopping by Emery’s.

She and Mouse could reschedule their walk, but she really wanted Emery to have this night.

Something to shower her new start in the best vibes.

“Bex. Bex!” Isaac came up to her, tugging on her arm. “Come with me for a sec.”

“What are we doing?” She let him lead her Emery’s bedroom. Where Devon and Isaac’s bass were hanging out? “What’s going on?”

“Please let him show you this,” Devon said, more fondness in his tone than exasperation. “He’s been working on it all week and—well, you’ll see.”

“Remember the song you showed us last practice?” Isaac asked, taking his bass out of its case.

Bex nodded. It was still in the construction stage. She wanted any original for their band to be a group effort so she’d given them what she had and everyone agreed to tinker with it.

“I came up with a bass line,” Isaac said, eyes shining. “It gives it kind of a bluesier feel, but I think if we lower the vocals a bit for the opening, it’ll sound really cool.”

“We’ve been playing around with it and the tempo,” Devon added. “We think it’ll make it even more effective when you go full with the chorus.”

“Wow, okay, cool!” Bex sat down beside Isaac. “Show me.”

“Okay, it starts like this…”

***

Emery

Emery clocked Isaac dragging Bex off toward the bedroom. He’d been dying to show her the bass line he’d been working on and Emery was surprised he hadn’t grabbed her as soon as he’d arrived. He’d been sending her snippets as well. Emery had told him it sounded great—and so had Sam and Devon and Kira and Malia, but he wanted Bex’s input too.

Everyone agreed she’d needed space earlier this week, but it seemed like things were better so she couldn’t blame Isaac for not wanting to wait any longer.

It was pretty cool what they were all doing. She was just excited to have a small part of it. To be back in the middle of things.

Speaking of…now was the perfect time for something she’d been holding off on.

Emery watched as Mouse headed down the hall toward the bathroom and set down her glass, quickly weaving through the crowd to follow him.

***

Mouse

Mouse was heading into the bathroom when a pair of insistent hands shoved him, propelling him into the room. He spun around to see Emery there, locking the door behind them.

“Um….hi?”

“Hi,” she said briskly, crossing her arms as she leaned against the door. “Don’t worry, this shouldn’t take long.”

“And what is this? Exactly?” Mouse had no idea what was happening right now. He was trying to figure out where to stand—how to stand—should he be trying to leave? What could Emery want to talk to him about—oh, wait—

“Is this a shovel talk?”

“Oh. Buddy. No,” Emery said, stepping away from the door. “I mean, I totally would, but I don’t think anything I could come up with would beat the one you seem to keep giving yourself.”

Ouch.

But also…fair.

And it still explained nothing.

“I’m not going to keep you for long—” Emery paused. “—or do you have to pee real bad because I can step out—”

“I’ll survive,” Mouse burst out, more desperate to finish whatever this was than anything else. “Just, uh, say what you need to say, please.”

“It’s not bad, I swear.” Emery smiled at him and hopped up on the bathroom counter. “I know you’ve had about a million different people talking to you and giving you advice and I know we don’t know each other very well, but…Bex is one of my best friends. And I figured, if my two cents will help at all, then I might as well give them.”

Her lips twisted wryly. “If that’s—is that okay with you?”

Oh. Mouse felt his eyebrows wing up. “Uh, yeah, that’s—that’s okay,” he said, leaning against the short wall by the bath tub. “Shoot.”

“I think you and I are actually kind of similar,” she said. “We’ve both been through some serious shit. Different flavours of shit, but still shit nonetheless.”

“Nonetheless,” Mouse agreed, biting back a smile.

“And I know what it’s like to…be loved by Bex,” she said. “Different flavours of love…but love, nonetheless.”

Wait. “I don’t—she doesn’t—”

“Don’t even,” Emery said, giving him the most withering glare he’d ever been subjected to which was saying something. “We don’t have time to debate that, especially when you’re wrong.” She shook her head. “Listen, I’m just saying that I get it. For people like us? Who don’t have most of the normal touchstones that most of the people out there do? Being on the receiving end of all of the love that Bex has to give can be…overwhelming.”

Mouse didn’t say anything, couldn’t really, but he gave her the barest of nods to let her know he was listening.

“The kind of overwhelming that makes you doubt…everything,” she said. “And I’m not going to give you the ‘you’re worthy of it’ pep talk because I’m sure you’ve heard it, but also, I know it’s only something you’re going to be able to accept in your own time.”

Time. There it was again.

“But as someone who is working through the shit and is working on acceptance,” Emery continued. “I know how hard it is and I just—I wanted to say that I see you. I see how hard you’re working and I’m proud of you. And I hope you are too.”

“I, uh,” Mouse cleared his throat. “I’m getting there.”

Emery beamed at him. “That’s good,” she said, hopping down from the counter. “I’m glad you came tonight because…I want you to see me too.”

He cocked his head to the side, not sure where she was going with that.

“I meant it,” Emery said. “I know what it’s like to be lost and trying to not just rebuild your life, but to…find it in the first place. And how unbelievably terrifying it is.” She huffed out a little laugh. “But I’m doing it. Still scared like a lot of the time, but I’m doing it. And so are you. We might not be doing it alone, but it’s still hard fucking work. And we’re doing it. We’re getting there.”

She held up a hand. “High fives, dude.”

That surprised a laugh out of Mouse and he reached out to meet her for the requested high five.

This was one of the weirdest conversations he’d ever had—definitely the weirdest one he’d ever had in a bathroom—but he still appreciated. Nonetheless. Mouse smiled at her.

“Thanks, Emery,” he said. “And, uh, I’m glad.”

She raised her eyebrows in question.

“That you’re doing this.” He waved a hand at the bathroom, the house, the all of it. “It is hard and I do—I see you and, uh, I’m glad you’re here. You should be proud.”

“Oh, jeez. I—” She sniffed and lunged forward, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you.”

Mouse patted her back as she squeezed him tight. Really tight. “No problem,” he said. “Do you think, uh, could I maybe use the bathroom now?”

“Oh!” Emery sprang back, shaking her head as she laughed at herself. “Yes. Sorry. I’ll just—” She opened the door, pausing as she looked back at him. “I know you’re working through things in your own time and I don’t want to rush you or anything, but I do think you could consider kissing Bex sooner—”

“Emery!” Mouse shooed her out and she held her hands up as she back away.

“Alright, I’m going! I’m just saying—”

Mouse closed the door on whatever she was saying. He shook his head, dragging a hand down his face as he laughed under his breath.

He didn’t even really have to pee anymore.

But he was going to stay in here for a few minutes longer just in case.

***

Jay

He’d seen Emery follow Mouse to the bathroom and reappear after a few minutes later without him, looking incredibly pleased with herself.

Jay poured another glass of the wine he’d noticed her drinking and made his way through the crowd to hand it over to her.

“Oh!” She smiled up at him in surprise. “Thank you.”

“It comes with a price,” he said, holding it back before she could grab it.

Emery narrowed her eyes at him. “And what is that?”

Jay leaned in. “You have to tell me what you were talking to Mouse about in the bathroom.”

“Well, some of that is none of your business,” Emery said. “Let’s just say it was a…moment of solidarity.” Then her eyes sparked with a light that Jay knew meant he should just drop it and yet…

“Anything else?” he pressed.

“Yeah, I told him he needs to stop messing around and start kissing Bex—”

“Okay, nevermind—” Jay pressed the drink into her hand and escaped, her laughter chasing after him. He was hoping she was just pulling his leg, but knowing Emery, she’d absolutely said something along those lines to Mouse.

No wonder he was still hiding out in the bathroom.

Jay might join him.

***

Connor

Connor followed Will into his apartment, squatting down to greet Kol as Will locked the door behind them.

Emery’s party had been a great success and Bex had deemed her house sufficiently ‘warmed.’ She was staying over there tonight to help clean everything up so he and Will had the place to themselves. It had been a long week and they were more than ready to call it a night.

Connor was basking in the domesticity of it all while they took Kol out to do his business, talking about everything and nothing the whole time.

Will had been chatting away the whole ride home, telling Connor about everyone he’d had a chance to visit with and asking who Connor had talked to. They’d also gone through all of the pictures and art that everyone had brought and Will was halfway through planning a picture wall for the apartment.

“We should put one in your apartment too,” he said, as they got ready for bed. “Maybe on the far wall in the living room?”

“I’d like that,” Connor said around his toothbrush. Will grinned, easily deciphering his garbled response. They moved to the bedroom and started getting changed.

“I know I keep going on about it,” Will said, shaking his head as he laughed at himself. “But it was such a good night, you know? I’m just—I’m so proud of Emery and how far she’s come. It’s amazing and I’m so happy for her. And Bex is turning a corner and I think Mouse is too? And did you see Jay tonight? I know they’re working that case and they’re all probably beat, but he was smiling and laughing—”

God, Connor loved him. He loved him so much.

Will stilled. “What?”

…and he had definitely said that out loud.

Shit.

“I’m sorry—”

“You love me and you’re sorry?” Will’s voice was strangled as his eyes kept getting impossibly wider.

“No, I—” Connor groaned, burying his face in his hands for a moment before daring to look back at Will. “I love you,” he said firmly. “I do. And I said I’m sorry because I know it’s kind of soon to be making declarations like that and I promised not to push you so if it’s too much, I understand and you don’t have to say it back, but I can’t—I’m not going to take it back because I do. I love you, Will.”

“You love me,” Will repeated, looking dazed.

“I do.” Connor’s heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest as he waited to see how Will was going to react.

“You love me.” A slow smile started to spread across Will’s face as he walked across the room to Connor. “And there’s no takebacks.”

“No takebacks,” Connor confirmed with an answering grin.

“Well, that’s great,” Will said, snaking his arms around Connor’s waist and pulling him close. “Because I love you too.”

“Yeah?” Connor reached up to wrap his arms around Will’s neck, running a hand through his hair.

“Yes,” Will said emphatically. “I never thought I’d love someone this much, Con, but I never expected you either. I love you.” He leaned in for a kiss. “I love you.”

“No takebacks,” Connor reminded him with a smile, going in for another kiss.

Will toppled them both to the bed.

“Never.”

Click here to read Chapter Sixteen.

Click here to read 500 Miles on ao3:

Here is the tag list (let me know if you wish to be added or removed):

@sorry-i-spaced, @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived, @ivyalmighty, @thewannabewriter, @lexhalstead3, @multifandomgrl08, @sensitivemallysix, @thebejeweledwatercat, @emme-looou, @trulylavandedarling, @onechicagochoicesbutterfly

26 notes · View notes

preciouslandmermaid · 2 years

Note

No. 26 with Carmy pls omg pls.

the fact that this isn’t showing up in the tags is my villain origin story

Prompt: “Please say something.” || Title: “Like Home”

Tags: this is just pure fluff and yes you can take this as canon for nghyb (post-fic) carmy berzatto x reader (idk how to explain that the reader’s gender can be applied to any identity?) word count/rating: 700-something. Gen rating.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a burst of inspiration, you start growing tomatoes in your apartment. You liked seeing their leafy, sprawling vines framed by a halo of golden light. You like pruning them and how their unique sweet scent clings to your fingertips. You make more than a dozen tomato sandwiches over the course of the spring.

When Carmy tells you he’s coming over tonight—you get the bright idea to make tomato sauce from scratch. It can’t be too hard, right? You cut the tomatoes into chunks. The juice and seeds squirt across the cutting board as Taylor Swift plays on your speaker. A vanilla scented candle flickers on your coffee table. Your phone lays on your countertop, screen smudged with tomato-juice and rogue seeds.

You scroll to the bottom of a recipe and follow the ‘Most Helpful’ suggestions in the comments. You are confident of success even with the flutter of nerves that dance around your stomach. You’ve cooked for Carmy before, but something about this feels more meaningful. You’re making pasta sauce from tomatoes that you nurtured from seedlings.

You start sautéing garlic and add chunky tomato into a pan of extra-virgin olive oil. So far everything looks normal. Nothing is on fire. Although your heart skips a beat when you glance at the clock. Carmy is due to arrive any minute. You boil water for pasta. The sauce simmers and the playlist switches to some folksy artist you’ve never heard of before. You smile to yourself, happy in the comfort and warmth of your home.

Keys jingle down the hallway and boots scuff roughly against the doormat. Fragrant and aromatic tomatoes and damp steam waft into the air around the ceiling lamps. Outside, Chicago is dark and twinkling. You pop your head around the corner to see Carmy peeling his jacket off his shoulders.

You greet him with a soft, “Hey!” Affection balloons in your chest. It fills to bursting when he looks over his shoulder at you, the corner of his mouth twitches upward. You disappear back into the kitchen to stir the sauce with your trusty wooden spoon. The nervousness from earlier has returned and heightened with his presence. You’ve never known him to be cruel when it came to your cooking.

Carmy approaches you from behind. His tattooed hand settles on your lower back as he looks over your shoulder, “It smells great.” He mummers appreciatively.

“D’you wanna try it?” You ask, grateful that you can only see his profile from the corner of your eye, and that he cannot see your face. Your scalp prickles. A tiny tremor caresses your spine. You mentally backtrack the recipe, digging through your mind to try and ascertain if you’ve messed up or not. Did you forget the salt? Was a clove of garlic enough? What about the basil? Your heart flips.

“Mm, sure.”

You scoop the sauce onto your spoon. You cup your other hand beneath to catch drops and draw the spoon aloft to Carmy’s mouth. Your breath catches at the casual intimacy of this moment as Carmy licks his lips. He is silent and pensive. Your heart flutters like a baby bird flying for the first time. The seconds tick by with agonizing slowness. His blue, tired eyes are unfocused and glazed, but he gives you a distracted nod. Is it seriously so bad that he’s speechless?

Your lips quiver into an uneasy, tense smile. “Please say something.”

You occupy your hands with stirring the sauce (even if it doesn’t need it) and checking the consistency of the pasta. Carmy’s hand slides toward your hipbone, thumb catching the hem of your shirt, and the skin-to-skin contact pulls a soft, dreamy sigh unbidden from your lips.

“It’s fire.” He whispers, mouth near your ear, before dropping a kiss behind your earlobe.

You groan, “Good God! You paused for ages, Carmy.” You turn off the heat, “I thought you were having a stroke or something.”

“Nearly.” He admits, covering your hand with his, and helping you stir the sauce. “It reminded me of Mikey.”

You swallow. “Really?”

“Yeah,” He bows his head to rest his chin on your shoulder, “Yours is better though.”

You laugh, delighted and relieved, and turn your head to kiss his cheek, his stubble is scratchy and familiar against your lips.

“Can I get that in writing?”

His close-lipped, gentle smile makes your heart race. “You gonna hang it somewhere?”

“Yes.” You preen, “Right in my office.”

He chuckles, low and reverberating against your spine, and you lean into him with adoration etched into every vein of your heart.

#carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fic #carmy x baker #my fics #carmen berzatto x reader #one shot

387 notes · View notes

kim-ruzek · 11 months

Note

Just realized some of the similarities between Rollisi and Brettsey:

Both women are blondes

Both women tend to be slut-shamed by people on SNS

Both women are badass in their work

Both women have been kidnapped with a gun pointed to their heads

Both women had a pervious sexual/relationship with another male co-worker LONG ago before getting together with the man they truly loved

Both women have slightly rejected the man they wanted to be with due to being worried about other obstacles

Both women have shown to hide their frustrations when the man they have feelings for is with another woman

But women had a hard time admitting they were in love with the man who they knew deep down was 'the one'

Both women are shown to be great mothers

Both men almost died with a gun pointed to their heads and were VERY lucky to have survived

Both men are badass in their work

Both men had to watch the woman they love be with other men

Both men have been slightly rejected by the woman they revealed some of their feelings to and wanted to be with

Both men had gotten upset when the woman they love had a sexual encounter with another man that took place recently

Both men had to watch the woman they cared for be proposed by another man

Both men let the woman they were in love to be the one to decide if they wanted to pursue a relationship with them

Both men would do anything to protect/help the woman they love

Both men always wanted to be fathers and are great being one

Both ships' co-workers knew they had deep feelings for each other and wanted to be together

Both ships are (most likely) going to have a family of five

AND BOTH SHIPS WERE SLOW BURNSSSS

AND BOTH BECAME CANON IN THEIR SHOW'S FINALES OF 2020-2021 SEASON

Now I really want a SVU x Chicago Fire crossover now after listing all of this lol

YES YES YES ALL THIS!!!

I have thought this quite often tbh and I LOVE it when other people also do. I love my lil blondies and their adorable and devoted husbands 💖

Y'know I really want to write a pd/svu crossover but now I'm craving to make one that can extend over to fire as well.

I love all the little parallels between the shows and my ships honestly.

Thank you for asking! I love talking about two of my favourite girls and their sunshine husbands 💖

#ree's asks #brettsey #rollisi #chicago fire #l&o svu #i seriously do love my blondies #this ask made me super happy

43 notes · View notes

starset21 · 3 months

Text

Always

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may currently be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under the name @.itswildflower

Looking for more? Chicago Fire Collection Masterlist

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: cannon typical depictions of fires/accidents, canonical death

“House 51. Anyone. Report. Report! Severide, report! Casey, report! Ambo 61, come in!” The Chief kept yelling into the walkie. “Truck 81, Squad Three, report! Mayday! Mayday emergency! Mayday emergency! Anyone from House 51, report! Report!” Emergency alarms rang out around them. Grunting Kelly sat up, his ears ringing a little from the blast. He stood up and looked around. “Hey, Chief! Severide here. Roof collapsed. We'll need assistance,” he reported as Newhouse stood up. “What the hell happened?” he asked. “Propane tank from the top floor. Squatters cooking on open flames. I jumped for the stairwell,” Kelly told him. “Yeah, me too,” he said as he hauled Capp up. “All right... spread out. Get eyes on everyone,” he ordered. “Hey, Casey! You copy?” he tried into his walkie. “Yeah. Down here,” he heard called out from the floor below. “You okay?” he asks over the edge. “Think so,” Casey told him. “All right, we're coming down.” Members of Truck 81 were helping each other up. “You okay?” Cruz asked Mouch. “Yeah.”

Hermann saw legs under some rubble. “Over here! Man down!” he called out. The crew rushed over. “Oh, God. Mills, easy, easy!” They tried to calm him as he grunted in pain and moved as soon as they pulled the rubble off. “My leg!” he grunted. “Calm down, Mills. Just breathe,” Herrmann told him. “Let's make him a splint.” They jumped into action and Mills yelled out in pain as they splinted his leg. “Where’s Halstead?” Casey yells, hearing a pass alarm still going off. Severide looks up and squad jump into action, following the sound of the alarm. “Halstead!” they yelled as they approached. It was coming from another pile of rubble. “Dani!” Kelly yelled as they dug it away and pulled chunks off. She groaned and opened her eyes as the pressure was lifted off her chest, making it a little easier to breathe. “Hey, there you are pretty girl,” Kelly’s face appeared over hers, taking the cracked oxygen mask off for her. They finished unburying her and she let out a weak cough. “Everything hurts,” she managed to tell him. “We’ll get you out, just sit tight Halstead, Casey, we got her!” Severide yelled out. “Dawson? Shay? Come in,” Chief tries. “Hey, Chief. Mills may have a fractured leg, and Halstead’s hurt too, she’s conscious but we don’t know much more than that,” Casey called into the walkie. “We got more of everything coming. Can you get them out of there?” Chief asked. “I think so.”

“Any eyes on Dawson or Shay? I can't reach them,” Chief asked. Kelly looked down at Dani. “Go,” she coughed. “Shay! Call out!” he yelled as he and Casey jumped into action looking for the two paramedics. “Dawson? Shay?” Capp turned to Dani, “Let's get you out of here. Ready?” he asked. “Yeah,” she let out a shaky breath. “On three, all right?” Tony told her. “Let's do it, one... two... three. Go!” They pulled her up easily though she cried out in pain. The other members of truck had pulled Mills up at the same time and were helping him out in front of her. They helped her past where Dawson and Severide were doing CPR on Shay and out to waiting paramedics, “Where’s the pain?” one of them asked. “Everywhere but I think I cracked some ribs,” she managed to get out as they helped her onto a stretcher. They placed an oxygen mask on her as they got to work, loaded her into the ambulance, and drove off.

When Dani woke up she groaned and turned her head to take in her surroundings, she must have passed out en route. She could see that her left arm had a cast on it and that Kelly was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair, asleep. “Severide,” she tried, her voice scratchy and dry. She cleared her throat and tried again and this time his eyes snapped open and went to her immediately. “Hi,” he breathed, his eyes watering for what felt like the thousandth time in 24 hours. He stood, bringing her a cup of water. She took a few sips before handing him back the cup. A few tears made their way down his face and she grabbed at his hand after he had set the cup down on the little table, squeezing it. “Let me, uh, let me go get the nurse and tell the others,” he told her, wiping his eyes. Dani nodded and let him go, as much as she didn’t want him to. A few minutes later, the doctor and a nurse came in and explained everything. X-rays revealed a few broken ribs and a broken arm, as well as a few bruises and minor cuts but luckily the broken ribs didn’t puncture a lung or anything else. It would be at least six weeks before her ribs would be healed and it would likely be another two after that before the arm was healed based on the severity of the break. The nurse administered some more medication while the doctor finished by telling her she’d need to stay in the hospital for a few days for observation before taking their leave.

There was a knock on the door. “Hey hotshot,” the middle Halstead sibling greeted as he opened the door and entered the room. “How are you feeling?” he asks. “Like a million bucks,” Dani told him sarcastically. Jay just raised a brow. “I got hit by falling debris Jay, it’s a hazard of the job,” she huffed. “I’m fine.” Jay walked over to her bed and sat down at the foot of it. “Will sends his well wishes but he’s not able to get time off,” he told her. “Again, I’m fine, no need to drag him away from his big-time job in New York,” Dani waved him off with a roll of her eyes. There was another knock at the door and some of the 51 crew were clearly waiting to come in. “I’m going to get out of your hair, love you, call me when you’re going home,” Jay told her, squeezing her leg and standing. “I will, love you too,” Dani tells him as he exits. Chief Boden, Matt, and Kelly came in and gathered around the foot of her bed. “How you feeling Halstead?” Chief asks. “I feel as good as I can feel all things considering, how’s everyone else? Mills? Shay?” she asks. “Mills has a broken leg but like you with rehab, he’ll recover, probably around the same time as you,” Matt tells her before looking at the Chief. Dani swallowed, realizing something else was wrong. Looking at Kelly she asks, “And Shay?” He shakes his head and looks down at the floor, refusing to meet her eyes. “Shay was unable to be revived, blunt trauma to the head,” the Chief told her. Dani was shocked, her eyes welling up with unshed tears, her mind unable to wrap itself around the fact that one of her friends was simply gone. A memory of them laughing from the other night at Shay and Kelly’s apartment flashed through her mind. “Everyone at Firehouse 51 is incredibly grateful that both you and Mills are okay, rest up,” the Chief tells her, patting her leg and heading for the door, leaving her with the two lieutenants, her best friends.

Dani bit her lip and shifted so she sat up a little more than before. “Dawson? How’s she doing with everything?” she asks. “She’s taking it pretty hard but putting on a brave face,” Matt told her. Dani looks at Kelly again to see him staring out the window. “Listen, Dani, don’t worry about us at the house, just focus on getting better and getting out of here,” Matt says as he leans down to give her a gentle hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We both know that I’m still going to worry, but I’ll give it a try. I’m fine Matt, get out of here, go be with Gabby,” she tells him. Matt looks her over before he nods. “I’ll see you later Dani,” he tells her and heads out, leaving her alone with Kelly. “Can you come lay with me for a little bit, Kel?” Kelly shook his head, looking out the window. “I don’t wanna accidentally jostle your ribs,” he tells her. “Kelly, don’t make me ask again, get your ass over here and lay down with me,” her voice wobbled a little, “please.” Kelly wiped his eyes before moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. “Happy?” he muttered, not really looking at her. “Kelly,” she reached out for him. He finally gave in and moved to lay on his side, facing her, taking extreme care not to jostle her in anyway. Dani took his hand in her uninjured one, and held it close to her chest. “I’m so sorry, Shay was a good friend and I’m going to miss her,” she told him. “Me too, I just don’t know what I would have done if we had lost you too… I’m so glad you’re ok,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against her temple. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere,” she tells him. A moment of calm silence passed between them. “Can we put some trashy tv on?” she asks and Kelly nods, reaching for the remote and turning it on, flicking through the channels until she tells him to stop on Friends. At one point Dani laughed at something, which turned into a cough and ended with her wincing. “I’m going to turn it off if you’re going to end up hurting yourself because you’re laughing,” Kelly threatens. The newest dose of pain medication was beginning to kick in and Dani yawned. “I’ll be fine, just turn it down a few clicks, please.” Kelly obliged and they went back to watching the show. Dani shifted and snuggled into Kelly further, comforted by the scent of his cologne and was out like a light within minutes. Unbeknownst to her, Kelly pressed a kiss to her head and settled in, not moving again until a nurse came into check on them an hour later. ~

She knew Matt was coming to bring Kelly back to work when she saw him pulling up the drive of the cabin and met him on the porch. “Dani,” he greeted, pulling her into a hug. “He’s ‘round back cutting wood, maybe you can talk some sense into him 'cause I certainly can’t at the moment,” she tells him when she pulls away, waving her casted arm to the side gate. She had at least another week with the cast and another one after that plus a few tests before she would be cleared for duty again. Matt nodded and she went back inside as he headed for the gate. “Hey. How you doing?” Matt greets him. “Great,” Kelly swings the ax and cuts through the wood. “Fish been biting?” Matt asked. “Jumping in the boat,” Kelly tells him, stacking the wood up. “So, uh… Are you coming back to 51?” Matt asks after a moment of tense silence. “That house is cursed, Casey. Nothing but misery and heartbreak there. There's a guy out near Grays lake who does boat repairs. He said he'll sell me a piece of his business, so…” Kelly trails off.

“Pretty quiet up at Grays lake. All figured out then?” Matt asks. Kelly nods. “Then I guess I should be heading back,” Matt tells him. “Come any time,” Kelly offers as Matt turns to walk away. He instead turns and holds out a worn-looking book. “Hey. One more thing. Boden still writes down all the calls we go on by hand. The date, the call itself, and what we did. And do you know what he writes in the column on the far left? The lives we saved. The ones that made it out alive. That we rescued. The badges... on the wall… at the Academy? Andy's. Shay's. Don't represent death. They represent the lives we save,” Matt tells him, leaving the book on the stump where Kelly had just been cutting wood and walking back out of the gate, waving goodbye to Dani. It was a while later that Kelly came in, the haunted look in his eyes a little lighter than it was before. “One more day,” is all he says. Dani sets down the wooden spoon she’d been using to stir the dinner she had been making and moves around the kitchen island to embrace him in a tight hug.

#starset writes #chicago fire #matt casey #kelly severide x oc #kelly severide #one chicago #dani halstead

8 notes · View notes

deanstead · 2 years

Text

Pieces (20): New Surprises

Chapter 20: New Surprises

Chapter Summary: Confronted by a new surprise, Y/N finds herself trying to find the best way to tell Jay. Meanwhile, Jay has a surprise of his own.

Word Count: 1,841

Warnings: mentions of dizzy spells, general canon-typical mentions of being unwell

A/N: I kind of came up with the idea for 20 & 21 while talking to @i-like-sparkly-things and she was screaming at me so technically this was an unplanned idea that later kind of changed some stuff so I hope you like it! And if you do, you can say thank you to Kat :D

SERIES MASTERLIST || JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Chicago’s weather had been unforgiving recently, the heat was relentless and every time you stepped out of Med you wanted to go right back in to the welcoming air conditioning.

It felt like the heat was very literally zapping your energy out of you, bit by bit. You felt even more tired than you did when you were up at all hours of the night when Chloe was little, but you also reminded yourself that you hadn’t been working as an ED doctor then.

You brought the cold bottle of water to your lips, feeling the cold liquid slide down your throat before you put the cap back on, putting the bottle back down onto the counter as the room swayed.

You frowned, gripping onto the edge of the table and closing your eyes. The heat must really be getting to you.

You were so focused on trying to breathe through it that you didn’t hear Will and Connor coming in although they were talking loudly and on any other day you might have thrown a line at them about them announcing their arrival.

Which is probably why they quickly picked up on the fact that you were off your game.

“Y/N?”

You didn’t open your eyes despite hearing Connor call you but you answered him. “I’m fine. It must be the heat.”

“Here.” Will and Connor guided you towards a chair and you only cracked open your eyes when you felt your body sink into the chair, guided by one of their hands.

Will was already sitting across from you. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“I’m fine.” You growled a little impatiently.

Will exchanged a look with Connor before he rolled his eyes and gave you a look.

You looked up slightly. “Fine, the room may be spinning a little.”

“Can we get you checked out, please?” Connor asked, peering down at you.

“No, I am not getting into a hospital bed. Not again. I had my first anniversary dinner date with Jay in the hospital. No, I’m not doing this again.” You said stubbornly.

“It’s been a year?” Connor asked, smiling and giving you a one armed hug.

Will glanced at Connor. “Missing the point here.”

You didn't even have the energy to remind Connor that another six months had passed since then.

Connor gave a small chuckle before he glanced at you. “Just dizziness? You feeling any other discomfort?”

You shook your head and Connor glanced at Will before he turned back to you. “Alright, compromise. We’re running tests but we’ll do it quietly and in here. No hospital beds.”

You opened your mouth to argue but caught the look on Will’s face. “Easy way or hard way, Y/N?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, pretty sure the hard way came in the form of him calling his brother. “You don’t have to tell Jay everything.”

“Easy for you to say, it’s not your ass he’s gonna kick.” Will muttered.

But you knew it was just easier to let them do what they wanted to do so you held your tongue as they fussed - Maggie was informed, they took your blood, and took your blood pressure.

Maggie practically threatened you to make sure you didn’t come out of the doctor’s lounge despite your protests that if this went on you’d get fired or all your coworkers would hate you because you kept bailing on your shifts. Maggie just rolled her eyes, pointing to Connor and Will. “These guys can’t live without you. Neither can the rest of us so it’s either here or I’ll open a treatment room for you.”

So you lay back against the couch now, looking at the ceiling. They’d brought in some snacks for you because apparently having some food was supposed to help and left with strict instructions for you to drink the bottle they’d shoved into your hand.

You wanted nothing but to go back out there to do your job but you could already see the look Maggie would give you and you knew she’d make good on her threat to put you in a hospital bed to make sure everything was alright.

The door opened and you looked up. Will had a weird look on his face, the iPad held in his hand.

“What?” You asked.

Will glanced up at you, pulling a chair and sitting facing you. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Tell you what? What did the test say?” You asked, reaching out for the iPad but Will held it just out of your reach, like a typical older brother.

“Will.”

Will blinked back at you before a look of dawning appeared on his face. “You don’t know.”

“Know what?” You were getting irritated. “Spit it out, Will. You’re freaking me out.”

Will just handed the iPad over to you silently.

Your eyes scanned over the test results like they were trained to do, like you did every single day, but you were frozen now.

“Do you want me to call Jay?”

You couldn’t hear Will, not really. At least, you couldn’t absorb anything he was saying right now as you stared back at the test results. Your test results.

You knew what it was telling you, the numbers made sense in a weird detached sort of way and for a minute you might have forgotten you were looking at your own chart.

“Y/N?”

You looked up now as Will’s voice broke through your consciousness.

“No, don’t. I… Don’t say anything yet, please? I’ll tell him.”

Will glanced back at you with a concerned look. “Is this a good thing, Y/N?”

You didn't answer him immediately. “I don’t know yet. I need to know for sure before I…”

Will nodded back at you. “I’ll get you an appointment. Discreetly. My lips are sealed, I promise.”

You nodded, not really back to your normal self yet. “I’ll be back to get you.” Will said, before he left the room again.

As the door swung shut after Will, you felt the noise in your brain increase as you looked back down at the iPad he’d forgotten to take with him and the word bounced around in your skull.

Pregnant.

You hadn’t planned for this. Not at all. Things had been working out well between you, Chloe and Jay. You and Jay had been seeing each other for more than a year but things were going so well and naturally that you didn’t really have the talk about what it meant for the both of you. Not in details, at least.

Jay always knew what you and Chloe needed before you opened your mouth, as if he could see it in your eyes, or hear your thoughts. You could see through Jay’s facade as well, knowing when he was trying to keep it together for Chloe which was your cue to distract her with something else. That’s how well things had worked.

Now, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t know. You didn’t know how Jay would react to this.

You weren’t sure if you were more relieved or worried when the ultrasound confirmed the blood test. The dizziness you’d been experiencing had had nothing to do with the weather or temperature and more to do with the extra person you were now growing inside of you.

But it didn’t stop you from being absolutely terrified about how to tell Jay and what that would mean for all of you. So you were secretly glad that Jay had been kept busy with a case. He still made it a point to drop by your apartment, show his face to Chloe or at least leave a little snack surprise in the fridge for her but he didn’t have time to stick around for too long, so there’d been no long conversations or opportunity for Jay to figure out you weren’t telling him everything.

Even so, you knew you couldn’t put it off forever. So when Jay had finished up with the case and things seemed to settle back into the normal routine, you’d told Jay that you wanted to talk because you’d missed him. Jay didn’t seem to sense anything wrong and he’d smiled, nodded and agreed that the both of you should do a date night that night, not forgetting to add that he would bully Will into babysitting if he had to. You laughed, reminding him that Chloe had just as much fun at Will’s before he left.

You were glad you were on shift today though because it meant you didn’t really have the luxury to think about what you were going to say to Jay. Until it was time to go.

“I’ll swing by in about half an hour to get her, alright?” Will said, the question lost on you. “Y/N?”

“What?” You looked back up into Will’s concerned eyes. “Yeah, sure. Whatever’s convenient.”

Will frowned. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

“Alright.” Will conceded even though he looked like he didn’t really believe you.

You stressed about it all the way home, even as you got Chloe ready for Will to get her and even though you smiled back at your daughter as she chattered on about her day, it was nagging you at the back of your head.

But you kept your cool through the rest of the night. Jay had come in shortly after you’d finished with the steak and potatoes, setting the plates down on the table. You’d opted for a simple dinner date but Jay had insisted on lighting the candles from the last time the both of you had had a stay-home date.

As you sank into Jay’s company, you almost forgot your original intention for having the dinner in the first place. It was like the magic of being with Jay, but as time ticked past and the both of you finished eating, you knew you couldn’t really avoid it any longer.

You were sure Jay could hear your heart beating against your chest like it was desperate to get out. Jay seemed a little nervous as well but you figured that he was probably reacting to you since you knew if Jay had been the one to say that he had something to tell you, the anxiety would eat you alive.

Jay cleared the plates off the table before he joined you back at the table and you took a deep breath. You just had to rip the band-aid off.

Rip it off, Y/N. Just do it.

You opened your mouth but Jay beat you to it, reaching for your hand from where he was sitting next to you. “My whole world changed the day I met you, Y/N.” Jay whispered.

You blinked back at him.

“I love you, and I will never ever let you go. Not for the rest of my life.” The only sound in the apartment now was your quickened breaths, as Jay leaned forward even more, taking your hands in his.

“Marry me.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

If you want to support me, buy me a coffee!

Character taglist is open here

#resa.fics #resa.piecesfic #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead series #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fic #jay halstead fanfic #chicago pd #chicago med

291 notes · View notes

libras-interactives · 8 months

Note

So, this is something that i am kinda curious about, but what of the mc in utdm is canon, like position/skills/personality/etc. and what of mc can we headcanon?

Since mc will be good at driving regardless(at least it seems like it), i was thinking, what else is canon about the mc?

I like to think you could HC whatever you want about your OC 🤔 but if you want specifics, this is what shows up so far (not really spoilers unless peeps haven't played certain Occupations or Deals):

The "Deal" your character made with Flynn is sort of like the backstory/background. So obvs if you pick Baby, the MC has a kiddo. Picking the Murder means they killed someone and Flynn was their lawyer. Picking Debts or Family gives them two parents, an aunt and uncle and a younger sister (the latter being most relevant). Picking Alone means the Mc has been travelling homeless for a while, etc.

Note there's a scene in Chapter 2 where your MC can specify a few things, like who exactly they killed or what happened to their parents, what happened to the baby's other parent, etc.

For personalities aka the Occupations, it's as follows:

Gunman - They've done plenty of crimes and murders, and had something of a violent streak when they were young. They know multiple individuals in Flynn's organization. Used to violence, confident and smart in the ways of lawbreaking - also, weirdly attached to their favorite gun. Ambivert.

Accountant - Worked in Flynn's legitimate law firm, wants to keep their head down and not cause trouble. Clever and able to do the violent jobs, but would much rather not. Delivers heavy doses of sarcasm when they're stressed. Introverted.

Distiller - Very likely has depression, not that they could get it diagnosed back then. Prone to feelings of guilt (moreso than the others), works calmly and is resigned to their new job in St. Louis. There was an accident at the distillery they worked in Chicago, leading to some PTSD with fire and loud noises. Introverted.

Callgirl - Worked at Flynn's ritzy club, the Duchess, and was possibly a working girl before that (depends on Deal.) Effortlessly charming and good at reading people, especially men. Not crazy about all this driving and shooting she's having to do lately. Meant to be femme presenting. Extroverted.

Musician - The most social and "normal" of the bunch, an artist at heart who isn't good or comfortable with all the violence showing up in their day-to-day life. They've been playing music (and specifically their instrument) since they were young, and growing up, their family was proud of them. They played at the Duchess most nights, but worked in clubs all over Chicago. Extroverted.

More things will come up, I'm sure, it just hasn't been written yet :>

#libra says #anons !!#if:devil's moon

19 notes · View notes

pedrito-friskito · 2 years

Text

give what you take - frank castle x fem!reader (hell’s angel part ii)

summary: close calls in the windy city, and frank just can’t stay away from you.

warnings: okay so I thought the first one was raunchy? uh. canon-typical violence (if you watched the show you can handle this) - oral (m and f receiving), the briefest mention of squirting, brat!kink, dom!frank, frank’s filthy mouth, fingering, cursing, more than a few soft moments in this one cuz frank has taken up residence in my heart THANKS

a/n: yeah….I really wasn’t expecting the reaction I got from head to head but then I blinked and there was a whole series idea in my head, so here is part 2! it is LONG (I make no apologies though cuz I actually think this is some of my best shit lol) - almost 11k words, but there’s actually plot??? so enjoy 🥰

| main masterlist | series masterlist | ao3 |

Location: Chicago, Illinois

You scramble up the nearest fire escape, heartbeat in your throat, slamming against your ribs like its trying its hardest to burst from your chest. Below, a gunshot ricochets off the metal, making the whole fucking ladder shake with the impact. You grip the rail tighter, biting back the whimper that crawls up your spine. Chancing a look over the side, you see your pursuer staring back at you, a shit-eating grin on his face, an unkind laugh echoing its way up to you. The gold card in his hand glints up at you, catching on the strained sunlight barely breaking through the gloomy clouds above.

It’s too fucking early for this shit.

“Can’t run forever, Angel!” he calls. “I’ll just find you again!”

You turn back, continuing up the steps until you’re on the rooftop, rolling over the edge and sprawling flat on your back on the gravel. Your arm stings something fierce; his aim was shit but he’d managed to graze your shoulder. Blood wets your palm when you grip it, squeezing the wound over your coat. Fuck. You just had the thing dry-cleaned, too.

Panting, you pull yourself up, shuffling along the roof so you remain out of sight, to make him think you’ve taken off across the skyline. With any luck, he’ll head for the streets, try and pick you out overhead and come up empty. Even so, you reach into your coat, procuring the pistol.

It’s the same pistol Frank Castle had kicked towards you that night in New York. When he’d come to dance and you’d ended up doing everything but. Part of you still genuinely wonders if he’s a good dancer. Maybe you’ll never find out.

Maybe he’ll call you from that burner you left him, and you’ll get to learn.

Curling your fingers around the gun’s grip, a memory sparks, flooding your brain and leaving your body tingling. Frank, pressed against the wall of the house you’d claimed as your own, kicking the pistol towards you, giving you a nod, his lips parted and chest heaving. The Punisher, giving you the go ahead, trusting you to take down the man gunning for him.

It quickly bleeds into another image: Frank with his tongue down your throat. Frank with his big hand wrapped around your neck, cupping your chin. Frank with his face buried in your pussy, holding your legs around his ears and making you cum on his tongue.

Another gunshot rattles you back to present day, whistling upwards and hitting the light mounted to the roof, not twenty feet from where you’re propped up. Another whimper slides up towards your teeth but you bite it back. Don’t cry, don’t cry, you do not fucking cry.

Except, fuck, you really want to. Things are not looking good.

He’d tried to grab you in broad fucking daylight.

And it was…him.

Betrayal tastes just as bitter the second time around, but here, in a city that’s not your own, that you’re not familiar with, it hurts double. And this time, he’s not just after your cash. He’s after your life. You’ll be damned if you let him have it, but it makes anxiety seep through your bloodstream, mixing with the adrenaline and leaving you queasy. Maybe you should have stayed in New York.

Maybe you should have stayed with Frank.

Shaking your head, you sink down deeper, rolling onto your stomach. The blood’s stopped flowing for now, and you army-crawl on your good arm, heading for the corner of the roof. If you can just line up a good shot, maybe you can end this here and now.

But when you finally make it to the corner, pull yourself carefully up to the edge to peer down at the street below, you find nothing but an empty alleyway. Fuck.

The sound of a door opening bursts through the too-quiet afternoon air, and you whirl, lifting your pistol. “Easy, lady!” It’s not him, which takes you a second to realize, and you lower the gun, shoulders sagging with relief as you haul ass to your feet, brush past the startled young dude you just pointed a gun at, and slip through the open door behind him.

There’s a Chinese restaurant in the lower level of the building, and you slip straight through the dining room and into the kitchen, gun still in hand, ignoring the shouts of protest and snagging a take-out container of noodles as you go, disappearing through the back door and heading straight into the next building.

The convenience store has a counter manned by an elderly woman who looks half asleep as you bee-line for the back, pushing your way into a disgusting bathroom and stowing your stolen noodles and your pistol in the pockets of your coat. You peel the sleeve off your injured arm, wincing as you go, covering the bloody skin with a wad of paper towel before pulling your coat back into place. You should send the fucker your dry cleaning bill, just for that.

You snag a chocolate bar and a bottle of gatorade, actually paying for the items — when you emerged from the bathroom, the old lady was watching you like a hawk — before heading back out. You scan the street before you step through the door, immediately crossing the street and heading into the business complex that takes up the other side of the road.

And that’s how it continues, blood pounding in your ears and your shoulder pulsing with every step, until you get…home. Or, more aptly put, the almost-shit-hole hotel you’ve been calling home for the last few weeks. It’s been nearly two months now, since you left New York, since you woke up in the arms of the Punisher and immediately knew you needed to get the hell out of dodge.

Biggest mistake of your life? It was certainly starting to feel that way.

But you’d left him that burner, the number you used most often the only one programmed in, and hoped that he’d call. You’d thought about making the first move yourself more than once since you left, but something always stopped you. And you definitely weren’t about to turn tail back to New York, not after the mess you’d left behind.

It feels like an eternity before you finally step through the door, immediately closing and locking it behind you, going to far as to drag the desk chair over and jam it under the doorknob. It’s not much, but it’ll at least give you a heads up if he decides to come knocking.

You stick the noodles in the microwave, pull your first aid kit out from where you’d stashed it under the bed, and carefully shrug out of your jacket. The paper towel from the convenience store has done a shit job of soaking up the blood, more just smearing it around your skin and getting caught in the gash. Your grit your teeth as you pull it away, reaching into your kit for supplies.

More memories spark as you clean the wound. Gauze pressed to your shoulder, Frank’s wide palm wrapped around your thigh, fingers getting dangerously close to your wet heat. His hands on your hips, pulling you down onto his cock, calling you good girl. Fingers on your chin, tracing your bottom lip, looking at you the way he did.

You really are something, sweetheart, you know that?

Your fingers shake as you stitch, and you curse, knowing it’ll leave a ragged scar, an ugly reminder of this time in your life. Tying off the thread and wrapping your arm in a bandage, your head feels heavy, the weight of the day catching up with you, the threat that seems to be following you around like a shadow — and not the sexy shadow Frank had provided — making hot tears crawl up your throat.

You turn on the TV, strip off the rest of your clothes, and perch on the edge of the unmade bed in your underwear, poking through your stolen noodles, pistol on your thigh. You haven’t had the courage to keep it anywhere out of arm’s reach lately, the cold metal a reminder that you know how to take care of yourself, that you’re perfectly capable of keeping yourself safe.

But right now? You really wish you didn’t have to.

You sniff hard, wiping wayward tears from your cheeks, and as if on cue, your phone starts to ring, vibrations shaking it across the table on the other side of the room. You all but toss the noodles aside, gun sliding into the sheets, and you pick up the phone, eyes scanning the number rolling across the screen, breath hitching in your throat.

Frank.

Sliding a shaking finger across the screen, you clear your throat hard, swallowing back the tears you’ve let fall thus far. Lifting the phone to your ear, you shove a hand through your hair. “Was wondering when I was gonna hear from you,” you drawl, masking your emotions best you can.

It earns you a husky laugh in return, one that makes you melt back onto the edge of the bed. Who the fuck is this guy, anyway? Why does he have such a hold on you, even three states away and after only one night in his bed? What the fuck?

“Woulda called sooner,” he rasps through the phone, and you sprawl back on the mattress, fisting a hand in the sheets. “Got into a bit of trouble after you left.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmhm, took care of it,” he mumbles. “You still bumming around Chicago?”

“For now,” you say, sitting up, retrieving your noodles from where they’re balanced on the mattress edge. “The Punisher making an appearance in the windy city?”

“Not him,” Frank says, “but Frank Castle just might, if you’ll have him. Not hunting you this time, sweetheart, not unless you want me to.”

You hum. “That’s an enticing offer. My bed has been rather empty since I left New York.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl, and the possessive tone in his voice when he whispers good sends a thrill through you, distracting your clouded mind for a moment. You let your eyes sink shut, remembering how warm his skin was, how good it felt when he pulled your hair, that satisfying fill of him inside you. You need it again, there’s no denying that.

“Can be there in twelve hours, princess,” he says, and you chew your lip at the nickname. “You gonna meet me somewhere?”

You rattle off the name of the hotel, telling him you’ll send the address to the burner. “I’ll leave a key for you at the front desk,” you say, “under…” You tell him your name then — your real name — and you don’t miss the sharp inhale on his end of the line when you say it.

He repeats it, the syllables slow but sure on his tongue, and it sends a chill down your spine.

“Just do me a favour,” you continue, “and keep calling me Angel.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replies, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “See ya soon.”

And the line goes dead.

As promised, a little under twelve hours later — yeah, he sped a bit on the highway, who gives a fuck? — Frank is in Chicago. He parks in the lot, slings his bag over his shoulder, sticks a handgun in the back of his jeans, and heads inside. He gives your name to the scrawny kid behind the counter, still silently delighting in the feel and sound of your name, and lifts a brow when the kid scrambles to find him the card, sliding it across with shaking hands. “Third floor,” the kid tells him, and Frank just nods, takes the card, and heads for the elevator.

The room is a fucking mess when he steps in the door, sheets strewn across the king-sized bed, empty takeout containers everywhere he looks, your godforsaken coat draped on the chair in the corner. There’s blood on the sleeve, and Frank tilts his head to the side. No way you would have left the thing stained for that long, and New York was almost two months ago.

He shuts the door behind him, flicks every lock and slides the desk chair beneath the handle. He tosses his bag on the bed, toes off his boots, drops his coat on the desk.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, light streaming into the otherwise dark room, steam curling around the door jamb. He nudges through the door, waving a hand through the steam, and you lift your soaked head, big eyes pinning him in place.

You’re crying, eyes red and bloodshot, and even through the wet glass, he can see the poorly stitched gash on your arm, weeping red across your skin. You say his name so quietly he can’t hear it over the pounding water, but he watches it curve across your mouth, your lip wobbling before your teeth sink into it.

In an instant, he’s stripping out of his clothes, jeans and boxers and t-shirt forming a heap on the floor, and he slides the glass door to the side, stepping into the scorching spray. He grits his teeth as it hits his skin, but you’re right there, tangible and real in front of him, not just a memory of that night in New York, not just a figment of his imagination invading his dreams during the few hours of sleep he manages to steal each night.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since that night, doesn’t know if he can stop.

You say his name again, and this time, he can hear it, your voice cracking halfway through, and it makes his chest tight. What happened to you? What happened to the crazy bitch who levelled a shotgun at his head on a dark road?

More importantly, who’s responsible?

He gathers you into his arms, turning you to the side so the water doesn’t drown you both, the heat starting to change from unbearable to comforting. “What happened, Angel?” he asks, one hand moving up the back of your head to knot in the wet strands of your hair. It’s shorter than he remembers, curling around his knuckles; you cut it. He likes it. “Tell me.”

You bury your face in his chest in lieu of an answer, hands curling into fists that rest on his pecs. You’re shaking, and worry seeps into his blood like a disease. He needs to know what happened. He needs to know who’s responsible, so he can fix it.

He has to fix it.

Tilting his head to the side, Frank grips your bicep gently, careful of the wound on your arm, and swipes his thumb across the stitches. You did a half-decent job, the stitches a little jagged and uneven, but at least it’s closed. He cups his palm beneath the water, lets it wash over the gash, over and over until the water runs clear instead of bloody.

“Who hurt you, sweetheart?” he asks, the hand still in your hair massaging at your scalp, dragging his nails lightly along it. “Who did this to you?”

Finally, finally, you lift your head, those big watery eyes looking up at him. There’s makeup smudged beneath your lashes, and he moves his hand from your hair to cup your cheek, swiping his thumb through the black smear. “You weren’t the only one with a gold card,” you say, your voice a little clearer, a little less shaky. You blink slow, leaning your face into his palm. “It was my…” You trail off, shaking your head once.

“Who, Angel?” he asks. “Tell me who hurt you. I’ll get every fuckin’ last one of ‘em, I swear to god.”

You inhale deeply, fists unclenching on his chest, nails scraping his skin. “It was my old partner.”

His brow grows hard, and you turn your head, looking away from him, hands slipping down and arms crossing over your chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

“We used to work together in New York,” you say, and he can hear the hurt slink back into your tone, a tear slipping out of your eye and down your cheek. “Before I was a regular at Sister Margaret’s, we ran jobs together. Underground shit, I don’t know. He handled all the contacts, I was usually the bait. I didn’t mind it at first, but then this one job…” You shake your head. “He was willing to let things go way too far, and I wasn’t having it, so I left. Finished the job myself, took the cash, and stayed off his radar.” You turn your head back to face him, and Frank can see the pain in your eyes. He doesn’t need any more elaboration than that. The details don’t matter to the rage bubbling in his gut. “And he didn’t like that.”

Your voice cracks and you almost collapse against the tile. Frank pulls you against his chest, holding you tightly, mouth pressed to the crown of your head. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs to you. “You’re safe. Nothin’s gonna happen to you, promise.”

You lift your head and your bottom lip wobbles, more tears leaking from your eyes, and Frank has both hands on your cheeks now, brushing each drop that falls from your eyes. You haven’t even given him a name yet, but his mind is already going; how many different ways can he make this fucker pay for making you feel like this? Treating a woman like that, his partner. Putting this much fear into your head, making you feel unsafe, making you scared for your life. What sort of sick, twisted shit can he force this guy to endure before he—

“Frank,” you call, your voice still wobbling, and Frank’s reverie breaks. You’re staring up at him, your hands having migrated to his hips while his mind had wandered somewhere violent, and he bites back a low groan when you squeeze lightly, thumbs digging into his skin. “Can you…” You trail off, dropping your head, leaning it against his chest.

“What, sweetheart?” he asks, moving a hand back to your hair, tugging lightly. “What do you need? Just ask.”

Slowly, you lift your head, leaning it back in his grip. “Can you wash my hair for me?” you ask, and Frank is already nodding. “I tried, but my arm—”

Frank lowers his mouth to yours, cutting off your words, the kiss soft and slow and deliberate. You taste just like he remembers, that quick mouth tinged with whiskey and salt. You come to life under his touch, and he feels it, your body reacting in ways he’s admittedly been dreaming about since he woke up alone in that bed. Your mouth slots perfectly against his — it feels right — and Frank’s mind has only one thought: keep her safe, make her feel good.

If your asshole partner tries anything while he’s with you, the Punisher might need to make an appearance, after all. But in the meantime, Frank’s attention is solely on you, on distracting you, on turning you into a pleasure-soaked mess.

You melt further into him as he washes your hair, massaging your scalp under his fingers, dipping you back slightly with a tight grip on your waist and pushing the suds away, the pads of his fingers pressed to your ribs. Your eyes fall shut, lashes plastered to your cheeks, and once the water runs clear, the soap all swirling down the drain, he leans in to close his mouth around your pulse. Your arms tighten around his neck, and he turns you from the spray again, pulls you upright and pushes until your back hits the tiles.

He drags his mouth up to your cheek, kissing it once, moving his head and nipping your earlobe. You make the tiniest noise, this mewling little whimper that goes straight to his cock, a groan slipping between his lips as your legs part around his knee, one thigh sliding up the outside of his. Frank curls a hand around it, squeezing once as he hitches your leg over his hip. “Lemme take care of you, babydoll,” he whispers, mouth dragging along your jaw. “Nobody’s gonna keep you safe better than me,” a soft kiss to your parted lips, earning him another tiny whine, “you hear me? He tries to lay a hand on your again and I’ll fucking kill him.”

Your eyes flash open, bright sparks in them now. There she is. “I missed you, Castle.”

“You missed me,” he starts, reaching for your wrist, tugging your hand between your bodies, “or you missed this?”

The words are said against your lips, which part as your fingers curl around his hard cock, sighing with satisfaction when it twitches in your grip. “Hmm,” you hum, tongue peeking between your lips to swipe across his lower one. You give him a quick squeeze, and Frank slams his other hand into the tile, palm smacking the ceramic. “Both.”

His forehead presses to yours, nose pushed into your cheek, and you do it again, fingers tight around him, your body heat and the warmth of the water almost overwhelming. You start to slither down the wall, your leg slipping out of his grip, and Frank can’t find it in him to stop you, no matter how good he wants to make you feel.

“I’ve been dreaming about you,” you say, your voice a whisper above the sound of the shower, “every night.” You grip his hips again, nails digging in enough to leave little marks on his skin, leaning forward to drag your tongue over his hip bone. “About this, about your body. What you feel like, what you sound like.” He braces both hands on the tile, looking down at you knelt before him, sucking in a hard breath when you tilt your head back and freeze him in place with those big, shiny eyes.

He’s achingly hard now, and his hands curl into fists when your mouth drops open and your tongue peeks out, flattening along the underside of him, body arching with the movement. Your chest presses against his thighs, and Frank chokes on a breath, hands curling into fists on the wall. “Fuckin’ tease,” he grits, and you grin, leaning up slightly, drawing your tongue back into your mouth and pressing your lips to his tip, featherlight kisses that turn his blood to flame.

“You never said no teasing,” you quip, and Frank grins. There she is. There’s his Angel, that smart mouth, that somehow familiar light in your eyes peering back up at him. “Just living out my dreams, baby. Can’t fault me for that.” Another drag of your tongue, and Frank drops a hand to your hair, twining his fingers through the wet strands.

Your eyes stay glued to his as you open your mouth and take him all the way, tip hitting the back of your throat with ease. He groans, hips twitching forward, but your eyes don’t waver, nails digging in deeper. You’re just as good as he remembers, just as talented, moaning around his cock and staring up at him. He tightens his grip on your hair, curling his wrist as you bob your head, nose scraping the hair at his base. Then you pull back, one hand moving to grip his cock while your mouth closes around his tip, sucking hard enough that his eyes roll back.

“Tha’s a good fuckin’ girl,” he groans out, body starting to stutter, vision blurring at the edges as the pleasure makes a home at the base of his spine. “You looks so good with your mouth full of my cock, y’know that?” He adjusts his grip on your hair, petting a hand across your scalp. “Pretty fuckin’ thing, on her knees for me.” You just keep going, mouth sliding down to meet your fingers, one hand moving around his hip to grab his ass, squeezing his cheek. He moves his other hand from the tile, holding your head between his hands, mussing your hair over your head, his jaw dropping open as the pleasure flares like kerosene on kindling. He could get lost in this, he knows; he’s already getting lost in you.

“Fuck, Angel, I’m gonna—” he chokes out, body stuttering forward into your hot mouth. Your gaze still doesn’t waver, locked on his face, scanning his features as he cums harder than he has since that night in New York, his own fist and the memory of you no match for the real thing. It’s blinding, his head tipping against the shower wall, and he sinks into the orgasm, the feeling of it snaking up his back and spreading through his limbs and setting his nerves on fire. God, you are so fucking good.

You swallow him down, taking him deeper again, letting him paint your throat with his pleasure, groaning out sweetheart and Angel until the feeling returns to his limbs and his knees don’t feel like jell-o. He hisses when you pull off him with a quiet pop, his hands sliding out of your hair to grab your forearms, hauling you back up against him, pressing you into the tile once more. He grunts when you lick your lips, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb and then sucking the pad clean.

He takes your chin in his hand, like he had in New York, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip. “I was gonna take care of you, babydoll,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth over yours. “Kinda rude, beating me to the punch like that, don’t you think?”

“Sorry,” you murmur back, nipping at his mouth, draping your arms over his shoulders again. “But the night’s not over yet.”

“Damn fuckin’ right,” Frank grumbles, and reaches over to turn the shower off. You gasp when he sweeps an arm behind your knees, lifts you up, and steps out of the stall with you in his arms. He sets you carefully on the ground, reaching for the fluffy towels hanging on the wall, wrapping you in one. You reach for a second, hastily drying your hair while Frank wraps a towel around his waist, tucking it in at his hip. You go to hang your second towel on the hook, and Frank grabs you again, carrying you out of the bedroom and into the main part of the hotel room.

You look so small as he sets you on the edge of the bed, wrapped in that big towel, hair curling about your face, and you stare up at him, like you had in the shower, that mischievous glint still in your eyes.

He plans to keep it there.

“I dreamt about you too, y’know,” he admits as he tugs at the corner of the towel, pushing it down your arm until your shoulder is exposed, and he leans in to kiss the scar that’s remained, the evidence of his stitch work after he pulled that shard of glass out of you. “Never should have left New York, sweetheart.”

“I’m definitely starting to believe that,” you reply, tilting your head to the side, giving him more access to your throat, releasing the towel so it pools around your waist. “But you know I couldn’t stay.”

“I know,” he says, and he reaches for the towel again, pulling it open, reaching a hand between your knees. “Y’know, I haven’t stopped thinking about that night.” Moving his mouth to your throat, he pulls your knees wide, fingers sliding up the inside of your thigh. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches, legs twitching wider to accommodate him. “You made the prettiest noises, Angel. Got me hard just thinking about ‘em, those sounds.” He drags two fingers through your folds, sighing heavily into your skin when he finds how wet you are.

Frank sinks to his knees in front of the bed, his own towel falling to the ground as he goes, a cushion between him and the hard floor. You whine at the loss of his mouth on your skin, but a tiny gasp falls out when he hitches your legs over his shoulders, pulling you to the very edge of the mattress. You’re absolutely dripping, glistening in the low light coming from the bedside lamp, and Frank lowers his mouth, licks a stripe up the very core of you, moaning into your pussy at the taste. He’s been dreaming about that too.

“Fuck, Frank,” you groan, hands finding their way to his hair. “God, you’re so good.”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispers against your thigh, eyes flicking up to you as you stare back at him. “Use your words. I wanna hear you, yeah? Wanna know how good I make you feel.”

You nod almost violently, your whole torso shaking with the movement, and you moan his name again, head tipping back on your shoulders. He grins against you, licking again, pulling your thighs tighter around his ears as he delves into you. Your muscles go taut in his hands, warmth and wetness flooding his tongue as he sucks at your clit, gently scrapes his teeth against your pussy, prods his tongue into your sopping hole.

Your noises don’t stop, those tiny whimpers like you’d made in the shower interspersed between his name moaned lowly and god, Frank, fuck, right there, oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your knees lock around his head, keeping him trapped, and Frank growls, releasing your legs to wrap one hand around his again achingly hard cock, the other sliding to the curve of your ass, where he pinches your flesh once before moving to your pussy, two fingers sliding into you with ease.

Back arching off the bed, you make the most delicious noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “Oh my fucking god,” you curse, hands locked in his hair still, “you make me feel so fucking good!” Your voice climbs at the end as he curls his fingers, thrusting them deep as he closes his mouth around your clit. He strokes himself, moaning into you. He can feel it, the way you’re getting tighter and tighter, thighs trembling around his ears, your body curling forward, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, over and over.

Still thrusting his fingers, he wrenches his head back, tilting his face up to yours, releasing his cock to curl his hand around your throat. “You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he asks, kissing you hard, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You take it gladly, hands scraping his back, nails leaving thick tracks he knows he’ll feel later. “Huh? You gonna be a good girl?”

Nodding dumbly, your mouth falls from his, lips making a perfect o as he curls his knuckles against that place he knows makes you see stars.

“Tell me,” he growls. “Words.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you babble, still nodding, throat stuttering in his grip. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard, Frank, I—”

“Good girl,” he says, and lowers his mouth again, still gripping your neck. It doesn’t take much more, one curl of his fingers and a soft suck at your clit, and your whole body seizes in his grip, chest heaving with each breath. He releases your throat, reaches down to grip himself again. He can’t stop, groaning when your orgasm coats his tongue, the taste making his eyes roll back, that heat in his spine taking up residence once more.

He’s lost in you.

You take everything he gives, tongue caressing you over and over until you’re cumming again, no words this time, just your open mouth falling against the top of his head, fingers locked in his hair, pulling hard. You must see what he’s doing, jerking his cock with every pulse that rattles through you, because once you catch your breath, you start to speak.

“You make me feel so fucking good, baby,” you whisper, your voice low. “You like the way I taste, huh? This pussy’s just for you, you know that?” You tug on his hair until he lifts his head, fingers still crooked inside you, making you gasp when he presses against your walls. “You gonna make yourself cum, Frank? Huh?” Your mouth glances off his temple, body going tight again as he moves his fingers again. He can feel it, and he tilts his face up, cheek pressed to yours.

“I want you to cum again, Angel,” he murmurs. “I want you to cum with me.”

You nod, skin scraping his stubble. “Yes, baby,” you reply, and one hand moves to cup his cheek, eyes meeting his. “Please.”

It’s the pleading in your voice that gets him, that pleasure-soaked tone reaching his ears. He curls his fingers again, his own jaw dropping as wetness covers your thighs and his forearm, your mouth open against his forehead as he keeps moving within you, keeps dragging his own hand along his cock, groaning loudly as his cock starts to pulse, cum coating his hand.

It’s quiet for a moment, as you both come down, nothing but the sound of you both catching your breath and the soft noise of his lips meeting yours, mouths seeking out each other. He kisses you slowly, languidly, pulling back only to kiss from one cheek to the other and back again, peppering your jaw, pushing his face into your throat again.

You whine when he pulls his fingers out of you, and it slides into a satisfied hum when he pushes them between his lips, sucking the taste of you from his knuckles, sighing at the taste. How do you taste so damn good?

He nearly topples over when you reach for his other wrist, fingers now lax around his softening cock, and you pull his hand to your mouth. He just watches, awestruck, muscles tightening as you clean his cum from his hand, tongue laving over his fingers, cleaning every last drop. “Sweetheart,” he groans, still licking your taste from his other hand, sucking at the meat of his palm. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, you know that?”

You just grin around the two fingers in your mouth and Frank groans, moving onto the bed with you.

The phone is ringing.

Your eyes shoot open, taking in the mess of your hotel room. The towels and clothes strewn across the floor, the slit of light breaking through the curtains that don’t quite close properly.

The large, scarred arm wrapped around your chest, calloused palm gripping your breast.

Frank.

Your body is aching from last night’s…exertions, and the burn is delicious as you stretch your arms over your head, arching your back and pushing your ass into his very prominent morning wood. He grumbles something unintelligible, squeezing your breast and burying his face in the pillow. You drag your palm along his forearm, feeling every ridge of muscle and scar that marks his skin.

Shit. The phone is ringing.

It’s not your burner — you’re pretty sure that’s still in your coat pocket — but the hotel phone, the red light on the base blinking brightly as you reach for the receiver. You roll back as you hold the thing to your ear, and Frank adjusts, moving himself onto your chest, planting his ear at your sternum. You can’t stop yourself from diving a hand into his hair, dragging your nails along his scalp. It makes him hum.

“Hello?”

“Just for the record,” a familiar voice says by way of hello, “I don’t want you dead, okay? This is a shitty business we’re in, okay, and there are rules for a reason.”

“Weasel?” you ask in disbelief. “How’d you get this number?”

“Does that really matter?” he throws back, and you shrug. Man’s got a point. “I don’t want you dead, all right, and when that sleaze of an ex-partner of yours showed up, asking for your card, I couldn’t say no, okay? I wanted to, but I couldn’t. Fucking stupid fucking dumb ass rules, okay?”

“I get it, Weas,” you say, almost laughing. “You don’t want me dead. I knew that already. Why are you calling, then?”

“I have a lead,” he says, faster than you’d ever heard the bartender speak before, “on the guy who ordered your hit.”

You sit bolt upright, jostling Frank from your chest, and he grumbles loudly, but you throw up a hand, pressing it to his bare chest. “Where?”

“There’s a gala at Willis Tower tonight,” Weasel continues. “Word is, he’s an investor of some sort, all dirty money and bullshit like that, but he likes to pretend he’s legit. He’s gonna be there.”

You’re nearly shaking, and Frank’s looking at you like you’ve got three heads. “You don’t have a name, do you?”

“No,” Weasel admits, and you can hear the letdown in his voice, “but I do know that wherever he goes, he’s got these two Russian thugs as bodyguards. Bald guys, crazy tattoos of bears on the backs of their heads.”

“Bears?” you repeat. “Are you serious?”

“Hey, I didn’t fucking tattoo the freaks, okay? I’m just relaying the information. You find those two, you find your guy. Take him down, and get the hell out of dodge, all right?”

You grin. “I owe you one, Weas.”

“You don’t owe me shit,” he shoots back. “Just don’t get yourself killed, okay? Like I said, I don’t want you dead, Angel.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Good, now fuck off.”

“You called me!”

And the line goes dead.

Frank’s still sprawled on the bed, head pressed into the mattress, and when you hang up the phone, he rolls onto you, hands covering your side, dragging his tongue up your spine. “We got a lead?” he asks, making you shiver as he moves his mouth down your back, pushing the blanket back so he can bite your ass.

You reach back, swatting at his head, earning yourself another bite. It feels good. “We do,” you reply, pulling at his ear, “and you’re gonna need a suit.”

Frank’s always known how to clean up okay. He knows he can, can pull off the bow tie and the jacket and the whole nine yards. He can’t even remember the last time he wore a suit; maybe senior prom? After that, it was dress blues or bust, medals on his chest and a hat tucked under his arm.

But the suit, he can pull it off. And judging by the way your eyes had gone dark and raked up and down his body in the dressing room, you think so too.

He’s been perched on the edge of the bed for almost an hour now, having gotten ready in about fifteen minutes, letting you muss with his hair until you were satisfied and disappeared into the bathroom to get ready yourself. He paced the floor for a while, even picked up the clothes and towels and takeout containers littering the ground, cleaning up best he could and retrieving the handgun from his bag to tuck into his waistband. Just in case.

You’d done a bit more digging on what the gala was for, doctored invitations for you both and printed them off at the public library after you’d bought his suit. He’d tried to follow you into the boutique where you bought your dress, but you’d shooed him off to the barbershop across the street instead, pushing a twenty into his hand with a grin.

There hasn’t been much talking since this morning. Not that there was much last night either, the passion having spoken for itself, but he can tell that you’re antsy.

“There’s a good chance he’ll be there tonight,” you’d told him when you returned to the hotel, outfits in hand. “If he tries anything, I—”

“If he puts a finger on you, I’m putting him down,” he’d told you. “Simple as that.”

There’d been a flash of something nameless in your eyes, the corner of your mouth quirking, but you said nothing.

The bathroom door creaks open and Frank shoots to his feet, adjusting his cuff links — he still can’t believe you made him get cuff links — for the millionth time. He sucks in a breath, lifts his head, and you’re…gorgeous.

It’s not a shock, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s like someone’s punched him in the gut. You look…

You look like an angel.

Lips painted a deep red, eyes lined black, shimmer catching the light along your cheekbones and collar, the tip of your nose and your cupid’s bow. Your hair piled on your head in artful curls, a strand curling at the back of your neck and around your temple.

And the dress? He’s got no words for that either. It looks like stars, black velvet dotted with silver, tight around your torso and flaring at your hips. Thin straps at your shoulders, the bodice dipping just deep enough to make his throat go dry, and when you take a step forward, he sees the high slit that bares your leg to your thigh, the strappy heels at your feet.

He’d fuck your brains out if you didn’t have to go like right now.

“So?” you prompt, reaching down to adjust the strap around your ankle. It shows him more of your leg, and Frank can feel his pants tighten. He had you completely naked in bed earlier, but this is just as sexy, if not more so. “How do I look?”

Is that even a fucking question? He realizes he’s just been staring, open-mouthed like a fish, gaping at you. “You…you look good, Angel.”

Your painted mouth quirks, eyes sparkling, and you turn. “Zip me up?”

Frank nods, closing the distance between you, gaze zeroing in on the open zipper at your back, the bare notches of your spine. He pinches the zipper, dragging it up slowly, and as he does, he leans in, inhaling the sweet scent of perfume on your skin.

There’s a tiny pair of angel wings tattooed on the back of your neck. He never noticed. “This is new,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over it. Before you answer, he leans in and presses a kiss to it, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s cute.”

“Well, you know,” you say quickly, slinking out of his grip. “New city, fresh start, that’s what girls do, right? Get stupid tattoos and run from their murderous ex-boyfriends. Sounds like a romcom.”

Frank scoffs, fiddling with his cuffs again. He can feel himself blushing, the scent of your perfume going straight to his head. “I’d watch it.”

He can feel you eyeing him, crossing to the mirror to inspect your makeup a little closer. “Y’know,” you say, meeting his gaze through your reflection, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked me, Castle.”

“Fuck,” he replies, rolling his eyes. So this is how you’re gonna play this. “Trekking across three states wasn’t enough of a clue for you?” He comes to stand behind you, hand reaching out to rest on your hip, palm sliding on the material. “I’m here for you, Angel. I said you’re safe with me and I meant it.”

Slowly, you turn under his hand, fingers knotted in front of you, lips softly parted.

“If this guy, this ex of yours, if he shows his face tonight, if he tries to hurt you,” he says, shaking his head, unable to take his eyes off your mouth. “If anyone tries to lay a finger on you, I…” He trails off, reaching up and pinching your chin in his other hand. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, do you understand that?”

You’re just staring at him, eyes wide and shiny, but Frank needs to hear it.

“Tell me, Angel,” he says, “do you understand that?”

You nod, head bobbing in his grip, a whispered yes meeting his ears.

He can’t stop himself from kissing you.

He’s careful, that much is true, careful not to smudge your makeup too much, though he knows your mouth is a write-off now. Frank wants nothing more than to plunge his hands in your hair again, to tug and pull until you’re squirming beneath him, letting him have his way with you again. He settles for you waist, other hand joining the one already on your hip, and he squeezes lightly, nudges his nose along yours before he kisses you bottom lip, then the top, bottom again, top again. Over and over, until it’s imprinted in his brain, muscle memory.

That little mewling sound of yours reaches his ears, and he can feel his trousers tighten. Your nails drag light along his scalp, palm grazing the freshly trimmed hair at the back of his head, and he sighs, sinking into your touch.

And all too soon, you’re pulling away. You’re blushing, eyes a little watery, and for a moment, he thinks you’re going to pull away completely, disappear into the bathroom again, but your hand lifts, catching his chin, rubbing lipstick from his mouth. Your gaze is glued to his jaw as you rub, perfectly filled brows pulling down on your forehead. There’s something in those eyes, something he doesn’t have a name for. Once the lipstick is gone, you turn towards the bathroom, reaching for your small purse on the counter and pulling out the tube. “I have to fix my makeup now, you jerk,” you throw over your shoulder, but the quip is halfhearted, and that unnamed emotion spreads through your features before you turn back to the mirror and reapply, lips parting softly.

There’s not nearly enough booze at this party.

You’re tucked in the corner of the room, a half-filled flute of champagne in your hand. It’s watered down, you think, especially since you’re on your third glass of the evening without so much as a slight buzz in the back of your brain.

Frank’s gone for the harder stuff, a tumbler of whiskey gripped in his big hand since you walked through the double doors. There’d been no issue with your ‘invitation’, not so much as a second glance before you were ushered into the ballroom. It’s fancy, no question, all high glass ceilings and crystal chandeliers, a damn orchestra playing quietly in the corner and waiters in tuxedos passing out caviar and what you think is a fig wrapped in cheese.

Nearly three hours in, however, and still no sign of your Russian bears.

You’ve managed to avoid conversation for most of the evening, ignoring people past a quick hello or an unenthusiastic wow, I love your dress! And Frank’s been stoic as anything, no more than half a foot from your shadow at any given moment. You’d called him on it earlier in the evening, and he’d just shaken his head, the tips of his ears turning red, and mumbled, “I don’t do parties, sweetheart, and you’re…distracting.”

You reached out and pinched his earlobe between your fingers, bumping your hip against his. You liked that you made him blush, that you hadn’t so much as moved all night without his eyes following you. You liked those dark eyes, the way he squinted a little when he concentrated, even more so when he laughed. You liked the way his ears stuck out, made slightly more noticeable by his haircut, and that big nose that suited his face so perfectly. You liked the cadence of his voice, the way he sighed a little after he said your name, how the tone would grow gravelly and low when you teased him.

You liked Frank Castle.

Fuck.

It was that realization that had you reaching for a second glass — and the third — and it’s what has you pouring the rest down your throat before plucking Frank’s glass out of his hand and tossing it back as well.

He narrows his eyes at you, licks his lips, and shakes his head once before he leans in, pushing his face into the curve of your jaw and nipping at your skin. As his teeth sink in, there double doors push open, a man in a suit stepping through, and your breath hitches, hand reaching up to grip the back of Frank’s neck, holding him against you. He keeps at it, and it’s a little more than a love bite, joined by his hand snaking from your waist to your ass, squeezing hard before he pulls away. “You want another?”

You nod, feeling your heart crawl up your throat and make a home there, trying to offer him a genuine grin. But he notices — of course he notices — and his hand returns to your hip, squeezing lightly.

“What, sweetheart?” he whispers, and you can see the darkness seeping into his features. Maybe the Punisher has come to Chicago after all. “Russians?”

You pull your eyes away from the door long enough to meet his, reaching up to push two fingers under his chin, leaning forward to kiss him once. “Nothing. I want Macallan, if they have it,” you whisper to him, lips quirking. “Two fingers.”

“Two?” he replies, mischievous smirk, tilting his head to the side. “That’s really all it takes, huh, Angel?”

Glaring at him, you shove at his shoulder. “Go, you menace, before I drag you out of here by the collar.”

The smirk widens to a grin. “You should try it, sweetheart,” he says lowly, leaning in to kiss your cheek before he pulls away completely, turning towards the bar, “I might like it.”

You roll your eyes at his back, watching the way he scans the ballroom before crossing to the bar on the other side of the room. He does look stupidly good in that suit, and you allow yourself more than an eyeful of his ass as he disappears through the crowds of people.

But then your attention prickles at something else, a shadow at your shoulder, and the wound on your arm, carefully covered by makeup, barks in response.

“Your bodyguard’s handsome,” Max whispers, his mouth suddenly right at your ear. It takes everything in you not to flinch, or reach for the knife holstered at your thigh beneath your dress. You sink your teeth into the inside of your cheek, bunching your hands in your dress. “Don’t worry yourself, Angel. You really think I’d try and take you out right here, right now? Make a scene? You don’t know me at all.” You feel his nose brush against your hair. “Besides, I know your boyfriend isn’t exactly shy about making a scene, and I’m not about to have my brains smeared across the dance floor.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” is all you can manage to spit back, and Max just laughs. Fucking asshole.

He presses his knuckle against your spine, drags slowly up, and you freeze, goosebumps rising on your skin. “Coulda fooled me,” he whispers. “You might need to get your eyes checked, baby, cuz the way he’s looking at you? I’ve seen that look before.” Max’s hand reaches the top of your neck, and you feel his thumb press into the very top of your spine, right where the wings are tattooed. “I used to look at you like that.”

Finally finding yourself, you whirl, stepping out of his grip and turning to face him. “Yeah, and then you tried to sell me like a piece of meat.” He tries to reach for you but you bat his hand away, anger flaring in your gut. “Looking at me doesn’t exactly make up for that.”

His handsome face goes feral, jaw going tight as he speaks through his teeth. You’ve seen that look before, quietly curse the girl that look used to turn you into. “I never would have let anything happen to you, you know that.”

“Says the man holding the gold card with my name on it.” You step closer, leaning up on your heels, getting in his face. “If you knew what was good for you, you’d get the fuck out of this city and leave me alone.”

Max just grins. “And if you knew what was good for you, Angel, you’d come with me.” When your gaze falters, courage snapping in half at his words, he laughs. “I’ve got snipers in the next building, all eyes on your boy over there.”

Your jaw clenches, and Max grips your forearm. You try to wrench out of your grip, but your eyes find Frank leaned against the bar, a smile on his face, talking animatedly with the bartender. “Thought you didn’t want to make a scene.”

“I don’t,” he continues, brows raising. “I just want you to take a little walk with me upstairs. For old time’s sake, hmm? You come with me, nobody lays a finger on him. Or puts a bullet in his head.” He lifts the hand not gripping your arm in an iron vice. “Scout’s honour.”

“Fuck your honour, Max,” you spit, baring your teeth. “You don’t have any. What is this about anyway, huh? What do you want from me? You want money, the price on my head? That what this is all about?”

“Maybe,” he grits, staring down his nose as you. You could break it. “Maybe I just want to see firsthand what Frank Castle does when someone plays with his toys.” Your hands curl into fists. “What, Angel, worried he won’t want you anymore when I’m done with you? When I’ve had my way with you again?”

“Please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Just put a bullet in my head now if you think I’m ever sleeping with you again.”

His grip tightens and you clench your jaw against the pain. “You come with me now, or Castle dies.”

You lift your chin. “And why should I believe you have snipers, hmm? Give me one good reason.”

“You want a demonstration? Lots of easy targets in here.” He taps his ear, turning his head to the side so you can see the earpiece sitting there.

“Fuck you, Max.”

“That’s the spirit.”

You don’t have a choice. It’s a game of cat and mouse, and you’re the mouse in the corner with a knife strapped to her leg. It’s only a matter of time, now, to see if you actually get to use it.

Frank watches from the bar. Watches him put his hands on you, watches him grab your arm and you pull out of his grip. Good girl. He watches the words exchanged, his eyesight not good enough to read lips at this distance, but the sinking look on your face is enough of a clue.

You’d given him the name, earlier in the day. Not like it mattered. Not like he really needed to know the fucker’s name. It wasn’t gonna change the outcome. But he’d watched it from his spot at the bar, watched the fear sink into your features like he’d seen it when he’d first arrived, found you crying in the shower, injured and scared.

The handgun is a welcome weight at the small of his back, and he nods to the bartender as your drinks are slid across the bar, pushing a ten dollar bill across the bar top. He downs his own drink in one gulp, snatches yours, and turns on his heel.

The fact that you’re not trying to run from Max is what has Frank worried. Something’s up, something decidedly not good, and the feeling only doubles when he sees you being dragged from the ballroom, throwing a look over your shoulder in his direction, eyes searching for him in the sea of faces.

Nobody’s gonna keep you safe better than me, you hear me? He tries to lay a hand on your again and I’ll fucking kill him.

It’s a good a promise as any, and he plans to keep it.

He skids through the door just as Max’s palm connects with your cheek, slapping you so hard you topple sideways, knees and palms hitting the marble floor, and Frank sees a drop of blood fall from your mouth. But before he can do anything more, Max has you hauled up over his shoulder, sprinting down the hallway and disappearing around a corner.

Frank takes off, stupid dress shoes skidding on the tile, handgun sliding easily out of his waistband and into his hand. He sees the flash of your dress as he rounds the corner again, and keeps going, spurred on by that fear in your eyes, and the memory of that unnamed emotion he’d seen back at the hotel. He has to keep you safe. He has to fix it.

There’s more rounding of corners, almost tripping up staircases in these stupid fucking shoes, and he loses you. He goes left when he should have gone right, ends up having to retrace his steps twice, cursing inwardly at his own mistakes, doubling back and darting up another stairwell. At least he knows you’re heading up.

He hears a door slam as he steps onto another floor, what looks like an office, and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting glass, a crackling thump that he makes him see red. Max isn’t as smart as he thinks he is, and he’s already enough of a fucking idiot for thinking Frank wouldn’t have his head for touching you. Big fucking mistake. Huge.

Rage tinging his vision, Frank barrels towards the source of the sound, your crumpled figure on the floor coming into view as he sprints for the door. It cracks open easily when he shoves his shoulder into it, lifting his gun with both hands and levelling it with the fucker’s head.

You’re curled on the floor, blood on your mouth and your cheek split open. Spitting red onto the carpet, you bare your teeth, and Frank’s gun nearly clatters to the floor when he sees the knife curled in your grip, blade smeared with crimson.

Max stumbles back against the large table in the centre of the room, clutching his throat, all gargling noises and wide eyes. His white dress shirt is a bloody mess, red spraying from the wound on his neck. Frank only blinks, lifts the gun, and puts a bullet between his eyes. The shot echoes through the empty floor. Like he said, big fucking mistake.

He drops the gun on the table, immediately on his knees and trying to help you, wiping the blood from your lips and inspecting your cheek. Not deep enough to need a stitch, but the fucker must have decked you hard. And when he glances up, Frank can see the glass wall has splintered, he assumes from you being thrown against it, and your eyes are a little foggy when you blink up at him, almost dazed. Your dress is torn, the slit riding higher on your leg, and Frank almost loses it when he sees red marks on your thigh, deep enough to draw blood.

“Are you okay?” he asks instantly, pulling his coat off and draping it around your shoulders. You’re shivering, blood-smeared teeth chattering as you stare up at him. “Did he touch you? What happened?” He glances over his shoulder, at Max’s body now slumped on the table. “I swear to fucking, God, Angel…”

You take his chin in your hand, nails digging in, pulling his gaze to yours. “I wanna go home, Frank.”

“Okay, baby girl,” he says lowly, and reaches down to pull the knife from your grip, sliding it into his pocket. He fumbles for the gun, sliding it back into the waistband, cursing the burn as it slips against his skin, but he grits his teeth against the pain. He turns back to you and collects you carefully into his arms, hauling you up, the fabric of your dress dragging against the floor as he goes. “I got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth to your temple when you sag against him. “Let’s go home.”

You wake up alone.

Back in the hotel room, your head buzzing with a combination of a champagne hangover and the impact of Max slamming you into the glass. Your mouth tastes terrible, and you blink heavy eyes open, finding your dress a pile of fabric on the floor, Frank’s suit half-laid out on the chair across from you.

Memories swim through your murky mind. Max’s hand on your thigh, clawing into your skin. He pulled the knife out, danced it under your chin, pushed the tip of it into the middle of your bottom lip. He told you how he planned to kill you, how he was waiting for Frank to show, so he could make him watch. So he could break the already broken man, the man who had already lost too much.

He hadn’t been expecting your knee between his legs, or the ease with which you’d pulled your knife from his grip and plunged it into his throat.

And then Frank was there, your knight in shining armour, pulling the trigger like it was the easiest thing in the world. Gathering you into his big, strong arms and whisking you away into the night, taking you home, wherever home happened to be.

You were starting to worry that home might look like him.

He’d brought you back to the room, cleaned the blood from your skin, tended to your wounds. Kissed you with such care and softness that it brought tears to your eyes, left your body feeling weightless, left your heart aching in your chest with the need to make him feel the same.

You’d whispered into the dark, when he laid down with you, begged him to touch you, to feel him inside you, and he’d obliged, moving so slowly against you, dragging the pleasure from your exhausted form so purposefully that the ache only grew deeper.

You know how it’d go down, if another one like Max came along, if the man who’d put out the hit on you — the man who you still knew almost nothing about — sent someone else after you, or if someone came after Frank.

If Frank stuck around, if you kept yourself glued to his side like you so desperately wanted to be, it wouldn’t end well. You’d lose him, he’d lose you; either way, the fairytale ending didn’t exist, and you’d done enough research on the Punisher’s history during your time apart to know just how devastating his past was. You’d both end up dragged through hell, him for a second time, and you couldn’t have that on your head.

Pushing the blankets off and swinging your legs over the side of the mattress, you see a hastily scrawled note on the nightstand, in what you assume to be Frank’s surprisingly legible handwriting. You’d assumed it would be chicken scratch, but you’re wildly incorrect.

Went for coffee. Didn’t wanna wake ya. Take an Advil and clean your cheek. xoxo F

You can’t drag him through hell again. Not after everything he’s been through.

So, walking slowly toward where his bag sits on the counter, you fish out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before, inhaling the manly scent of him. Pulling it over your head, your decision is made.

You have to remove yourself from the equation. To spare you both.

The room’s empty, when he walks in, coffees balanced in his hand. And fuck, if it doesn’t feel like a knife in the gut.

Your coat is there, folded neatly on the now-made bed, beside his packed bag. Bathroom’s empty, your makeup and toothbrush and your kit, all gone. No sign of you, just like the morning after the first time, when he’d woken up alone. But it feels different this time, more purposeful.

You were still asleep when he’d left initially, your face shoved in the pillow, brows pinched with a dream, but they’d softened when he leaned down to kiss you. He swore you murmured his name in your sleep.

Frank runs his fingers over the fur collar of your coat, fishes the burner you’d left him in New York out of his pocket, hits the speed dial.

The number you have dialled is not currently available. Please try again later.

“Fuck,” he whispers, the word not nearly heavy enough for the feeling in his gut. He sniffs hard, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

There’s no note this time, no explanation. Just an empty room, a fur-lined coat, and him.

—————

I have a taglist! if you’d like to be tagged in future works, please fill out this form! 💕

frank tags: @saintmurd0ck @moonlarking @mindidjarin @freshabogados @steadyasthe-flowers @whosfrankie @ancientbeing10

honorary tags (cuz u liked part i): @stardust-galaxies @cl3rks @ladyalice5 @scorpiowidow @jk7789 @rosellarecommends @androah @prince-kyloren @spxktr @kaseynsfws @castlesnchurches @sweetieswiftie @stresslessbaaby @mina2000alex @grippingbeskar @itwasthereaminuteago

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x reader smut #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle smut #frank castle imagine #frank castle au #jon bernthal #the punisher #the punisher smut #my fics #the punisher au #sort of #give what you take #hell’s angel

289 notes · View notes