#can’t risk angering the bastard who always has a knife up his sleeve and is missing Inej | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wannabemobwife · 3 years

Text

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Sucker for Pain

Dad!Mob!Tom Holland x Mom!Mob!Reader

Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

Warnings: Guns (its in the title lol), grief, a minor mention of blood, fighting, always angst (what I consider angst)

Words: 4.1K

Author note: Totally cried while writing this. Feel free to leave comments or message me directly your feelings while reading the chapter. Always love hearing from you guys.

Chapter 5: Sucker for Pain

Words: 4.1K

Word of Charlotte’s death had spread like wildfire, especially at school. Only Rosie was attending the past fews days. Parker set to join her in two days time, after the funeral, he was scared of what lied ahead. Parker was discharged from the hospital a few days ago, under strict instructions to rest. He started to go a little stir crazy, watching the days pass.

Most of the student’s attended the funeral. Charlotte’s demise was widely publicized which made Parker’s blood boil. No one knew her like Parker did. Who Charlotte actually was the complete opposite of the persona she put on in public and at school. Charlotte was secretly funny and enjoyed really cheesy corny jokes. Her sense of humor was one of things that made Parker fall in love with her.

All the Hollands attended. You, Tom, Rosie, and Parker, and hoped to pay your respects. Parker was exhausted, he had been going through the stages of grief. How could his life get so screwed in a matter of a few weeks. A couple weeks ago, he was a kid planning his promposal for his girlfriend and now he is a protégé of the biggest mob in London who was about to bury his girlfriend.

This was the final stage, the one he was dreading the most, acceptance. He didn’t want to let her go. Charlotte changed his world for the better. She was the first person he ever loved and loved him in return.

The denial didn’t last long. It was unfathomable how she no longer existed. How the world wouldn’t be blessed with her beautiful smile anymore. Or her corny sense of humor and gracious presence. How could someone so perfect just leave the world so suddenly.

Bargaining followed next, coupled with anger. Parker was angry at the world, God, himself, and the bastards that killed her. If they had only driven home when he wanted to, she would still be here. If he hadn’t gotten grounded and not overslept and cleaned up quick enough. If he hadn’t thrown that stupid party. If his dad never gave him an ultimatum. If he never turned 16. Even if he never existed in the first place, Charlotte would still be alive.

There are 5 stages of grief as if you move on from one to the next but no, they stick with people. Especially, depression and anger. How does anyone ever really get over death. Losing someone you love is greatest pain ever felt. Someone you held and protected. Losing Charlotte, in that moment Parker wasn’t good enough. Not enough to protect her or love her.

Bringing us up to date, acceptance. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye but since when did he start getting what he wanted. Parker stood like a statue as he watched Charlotte’s casket lower in to the ground. He knew he had to be strong not just for himself, but for everyone else, especially Charlotte’s parents. At the reception, Parker tried to speak to them but, he didn’t know what to say. How could he lie to them saying it was an accident when in reality he was the reason.

“You have some real nerve showing up here,” Mr. Owens said as Tom walked up to the grieving parents. “I was so sorry to hear about Charlotte, Mrs. Owens,” Tom explained. “You daft prick, you were there. You could’ve protected her,” screamed Mrs. Owens to Parker.

“Mrs. Owens, I just came to offer my condol—“ Parker tried to say.

“Fuck your condolences!” She yelled, throwing her daiquiri straight on Parker. Coating him, from head to toe, in a very potent alcoholic drink.

“I think what my son is trying to explain is that if you need anything, money or a favor, it would be our pleasure. Our family business has some important ties.” Tom exclaimed, hoping to bring them some peace. “You and your son end lives. That’s your family business. I want no part of it. Now if you don’t mind, please get out of my fucking way.” Mrs. Owens said, pushing her way past Tom.

“You people have too many strings. I just want my baby girl back, and you can’t do that,” screamed Mrs. Owens as she left the premises.

“Sir, you want me to take care of her?” asked William, Tom’s capo. “Leave her alone, she’s grieving. Parker come on, let’s go home and get you cleaned up,” Tom explained.

“She’s right. If it weren’t for me Charlotte would still be alive.” Parker said solemnly. Tom hated seeing his son like this, it was eating him up inside. Tom couldn’t do anything to stop it, it was up to Parker to face his inner demons.

The Holland household was starting to return to normalcy, at least what they called normalcy. Parker refused to leave his room for awhile. Staff and you would bring food up to his room each meal and take the untouched one from before. He was a shell of a person after the night. All the while Parker was getting over Charlotte, Rosie was getting under someone new.

Henry had been coming over frequently for two reasons. To comfort Parker in his time of need and to be with Rosie. Their love for each other blossomed rather quickly. Rosie was not one for big romantic gestures, but made an exception from Henry.

The day had come where Parker was to return to school. How could face all of them with the judgements and accusations. Charlotte’s death shook everyone to their very core, everyone was taking the news differently. It wasn’t common for the school community to lose on of their own. Maybe a teacher but never a student.

There were a multitude of mourners that ranged from the fake asses who say they knew her but didn’t, her former conquests who only saw her as a good fuck and her actual friends who were devastated. Posters were hung up and there were candles, teddy bears and “We miss you cards,” displayed all over her locker.

You drove them to school that morning, since Parker was still grounded. Arriving at school, all voices ceased to exist as the black Rolls Royce pulled up. Out jumped Parker and Rosie and all eyes shifted to them as they walked through the halls.

“Glad to see you are back Mr. Holland. You missed a few projects, you can make them up at a later time,” Ms. Erikson, Parker’s chemistry teacher, said. Parker just nodded in response.

Walking to his seat, he perfectly heard all the rumors being spread or was he supposed to. “I heard he was the one who killed her.” “I heard they were both at a gang bang” “I heard she died in his arms”. How could people be so insensitive to make snap judgements like that.

Charlotte’s parents’ opted for the cause of her death to remain hidden. But they were teenagers, they couldn’t help but, gossip. Rumors are just rumors, Parker would tell himself. They weren’t entirely wrong. He was the reason, he was there when it happened, and he held her as she died. Being in those hollowed halls was brutal. Parker was basically the new social pariah.

The student’s weren’t oblivious to the Holland family. They knew what most people knew. That Tom Holland owned one of the largest exporting companies in Europe, Holland Exportation and Luxuries. And they knew not to mess with the Hollands.

Once class was over, now came the hard work. Tom called it “Mobster Bootcamp,” Parker was currently taking lessons with his dad to carry on the legacy. Tom had a few tricks of the trade up his sleeve desperately wanting to pass on to his son. They had met in the Tom’s office to begin.

“Lesson 1: Always wear black or white.” Tom started with as Parker took notes, like the perfect student he is.

With one, blood will alter it completely and the other remains unchanged. It was a common theme, with the Holland legacy, wearing black or white. It was sleek, dangerous and classy all at the same time.

“The one big perk is that blood doesn’t show up on black fabric.”

“Lesson 2: Wives must be treated with respect, girlfriends are fair game."

“If you’re a good man, the only describable difference between a wife and girlfriend is that one has an unnecessary symbol on her ring finger. They both mean the same and don’t you forget it,” Tom concluded.

And Tom was a good man. Never has Tom even thought about cheating on you. Porn was pointless and strip clubs bored him. Why throw away the best thing that ever happened to him, you.

“Lesson 3: Someone brings a knife, you bring a gun” “Never be without a weapon. Anything can become a weapon with the right skill set, but always be prepared.”

Tom was a big fan of improvisation. Sometimes using what he had on hand, like his tie. Strangling wasn’t his most favorite method of killing but he liked to mix it up.

“Also find finesse in your kills. Your mother is a big believer in gun to the head, execution style. Me on the other hand, I prefer to roughen up a guy a bit, but you will eventually develop an M.O. (modus operandi). Another lesson, make sure you don’t always use the same M.O. mix it up a bit, otherwise they could trace it back to you,” Tom elaborated.

“That bring me to my next lesson.”

“Lesson 4: Blackmail is your best friend.”

Tom has had a few close calls in his day. Everything about running a mob had to be sneaky. Bodies couldn’t be found by any random person, they needed to be cleaned up and dealt with. The witness’s in a meeting were sworn into secrecy, he had enough dirt on them that he could get someone to fake their death if need be. Cops were never a problem with the Hollands. They were his puppets and he was the puppet master.

“Killing someone in a public place you risk being caught by an innocent bystander. Then one things leads to another and you are cleaning up two bodies instead of one.That’s why I have the warehouse and the police Captain in my pocket. Just remember everyone’s got a price,” Tom explained.

“Lesson 5: Have as little weaknesses as possible.”

Tom hated referring to the one’s he loved as weakness but it was the truth. He couldn’t be weak if he desired to be top dog. The moment you and Tom started a family, his liabilities increased. From that day, his only goal was to protect you and the twins.

“I would never call your mother a weakness, but I would die for her. Also for you and your sister. This makes me vulnerable. In the past, people have put her in danger situations for leverage against me.” Tom said, rubbing his temples. Parker just nodded in return. A long silence ensued.

“Dad, are you okay?” Parker questioned.

“Yeah. I’m sorry son, I have more for you but, just have a lot on my mind,” Tom apologized. “It’s alright. Any luck with finding Charlotte’s killer?” Parker asked, his voice tainted with hope.

“No, but I do have a meeting at the warehouse with a contact would you like to tag along?”

“How could I say no,” Parker said, kind of excitedly. They made their way out of the mansion and drove to the warehouse. Parker had never been here before. It was dark and cold looking. The walls were pure metal sheets and the floor had stains of blood scattered everywhere. “Good to see you, Jazz,” Tom said walking up to the mysterious woman tied to a chair. Jasmine Ramsey, a contract killer Tom was friends with. A little more than friends at one time, predating you.

“Fuck you, Tom. What’d I do to be graced with your presence,” questioned Jazz. “Nothing to piss me off, yet,” Tom chuckled. “Then why the fuck am I here,” she said a little peeved.

“My son, here, needs to ask you a few questions,” Tom said, pointing towards Parker who stood in the corner. “Aww a baby Holland. Following in your daddy’s footsteps, huh?” “Shut it, slag,” Parker yelled as he melded his fist with her jaw.

“Jesus. What the fuck was that for?” Jazz screeched. “Woah. Sorry Jazz, should’ve told him you were an old friend,” Tom says, holding his hands up in defense. “Oh, I’m so sorry miss. Could I get you some ice or something?” Parker exclaimed, surprised that he just punched an assassin.

“Its fine didn’t hurt that bad. Gotta work on your punch,” she said adjusting her jaw. “Really. Hurt like a bitch to me” Parker whispered, holding his aching hand. Blood began to seep out of the broken skin, staining his knuckles red. “Tommy you gotta tell your son to grow tougher skin” Jazz exclaimed. “What the fuck were you thinking Parker?” Tom said, grabbing Parker by the collar of his polo. “Sorry I just assumed with her being tied up and all” Parker exclaimed. “That’s how we do business boy. You’ll soon learn”Jazz explained with a shit-eating grin across her face.

“Anyway, I need info on a murder at The Luxe on the 11th. A young girl was involved.” Tom turned to Jazz.

“Oh I heard about that, poor girl, she was pretty too. What’s it to you, Holland?”

“That’s not important,” Tom hissed. “She was my girlfriend,” Parker interrupted.

“Sorry lover boy my hands are tied, literally,” Jazz said, rolling her eyes. “If I untie you will you talk?” Tom replied.

“Yes, you know me. I don’t appreciate being threatened.” “Alright Jazz, just spit it out.” Tom said as Parker untied her restraints. “I was downtown at pub, called Harmon’s. Heard of it?” Jazz expressed. “Yeah, a big hotspot for Shaw’s men,” Tom said, nodding his head as he followed along. “Well, I was searching for my target and overheard some men saying “It’s going down tonight, word from the Merchant is that he should be there, with his little whore.”” “Fuck. The Merchant. Where have I heard that?” Tom said, puzzled. “Short for Merchant of Death. Surely, you’ve heard the old mob tales.” Jazz elaborated.

“Of course.”

“Well if it is him, I’d stop looking you don’t want to find him,” she warned. “Please, everyone knows I’m fucking top dog,” Tom asserted. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Tommy. You are now, but he used to be and if he is returning, watch your back. All he craves is power. If that’s it I’ll be on my way.” Jazz explained, asking for permission to leave. “Yes of course, Jazz. Thanks.” Tom muttered. “Give my love to your wife,” she said, pressing a cheek to his kiss as she strutted out. “Seriously dad?” Parker asked with a side glare. “Parker stop it. I love your mother and I would never cheat on her. Jazz and I are just friends.” Tom explained creating a “I’m watching you” look on Parker’s face.

“Jesus, one punch ripped open your knuckles. You're the one telling mom. Now come on or we’ll be late for dinner,” Tom said, inspecting Parker’s hand. Being the new mob boss was in Parker’s blood, but you were always against it. You loved the mob and being part of it but you wanted your kids to have a choice, unlike you and Tom.

Meanwhile at the manor, you and Rosie were making dinner. You appreciated all the staff to clean and cook but, enjoyed the satisfaction when doing it yourself. Secretly loving your independence. While you were dating Tom, you would try to ditch your security much to Tom’s dismay. You were a junkie for thrills.

Rosie and your relationship is what ever mother desired. You treated Rosie like a daughter first and a best friend second. As long as Rosie’s life was never put in danger you would keep her secrets. The major one being Henry.

“Hey honey. Since it’s just us here, how are things going with Henry?” You asked curiously. “Wait, where’s dad and Parker?” Rosie questioned cause nobody else knew. “Taking care of some business. Now spill, I want all the details.” “Well things are going really great. We kissed.” “Really? When? Where?” You have always wanted to have this conversation with her daughter. “At the hospital when Parker was hurt. I had a panic attack and Henry comforted me. He is really great, mom. I don’t know I’ve just never felt this way before,” she explained. Rosie had boyfriends in the past, never long enough for anything serious to perspire.

“Roo if you’re ready to take that step, I’m here for you. You can tell me anything.”

“I’m okay, right now, considering”

“Considering what? Did something happen? Has Henry been pressuring you?” You grew concerned of your daughter. “No. God no, nothing like that. On the night of the party, I got drunk and remember that boy Connor?”

“Yes, go on.” “Well he… he tried to rape me.” Rosie murmured, trying not to cry. “What? Roo why didn’t you tell me,” you whispered, your heart breaking on behalf of Rosie. “Henry was there to stop it and I just want to forget about.” “Roo, I’m so sorry you had to deal with this. I’m always here for you ok? I love you so much baby.” “Love you too, mom” Rosie replied. Their conversation soon quickly ended as Tom and Parker came barging through the front door and Rosie excused her self to the restroom.

“Ooo, something smells good. What is my beautiful wife cooking?” Tom asked, coming up behind you and kissing your neck.

“The only thing she knows how to cook, spaghetti and meatballs,” you replied, jokingly.

“How was your guy’s day?” You asked. “Great, Parker really showed them,” Tom said, kissing your forehead and pulling you into a warm embrace.

“Jesus Parker, does it hurt?” you questioned as he showed her his battle scars.

“What the fuck happened to your hand?” Rosie said, walking back into the kitchen. “Oh nothing,” Parker said, trying to change the subject. Rosie just gave him a puzzling glare as she dropped the subject.

“Dinner’s ready,” you announced as they all made their way to the dining room. There they sat at the long table, Tom at the head of course and you to the right of him. You all talked about your day, of course, avoiding any mob talk.

“So what really happened to your hand” Rosie asserted breaking the silence. “Drop it. Will you?” Parker barked annoyed at her persistence. “Fine,” she said staring at her plate until her phone buzzed. That noise put a smile across her face because it was always the same person, Henry. “Roo, you know the rules. No phones at dinner,” you remarked. “I know mom, just give me one second,” replied Rosie, holding up a finger. “Rosie, your mother asked you to put it down. Who’s got you so giddy anyway.” Tom said, defending you.

“Oh nothing” Rosie muttered, putting her phone down. “Ten bucks it’s a boy” Tom said directed towards you. “Deal” you responded, shaking his hand. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss, theirs loving way of shaking hands.

“I’m done. Dinner was great, thanks mom. May I be excused?” Parker asked and Tom nodded in response. Rosie cornered him on his way upstairs. It had been a while since they had talked. Sibling to sibling. Twin to twin. They tried not to keep secrets from each other. He hadn’t of told her about the mob and she hadn’t told him of her and Henry.

“Now tell me what the fuck you did to your hand,” Rosie barked, cornering him.

“Why the fuck do you want to know so bad?” Parker responded. “Umm, I’m your sister.”

“Rosie I don’t have time for your bullshit,” Parker yelled. “What the fuck happened? There’s something you aren’t telling me,” Rosie accused.

“Dad wants me to be the next him.” Parker explained. “I’m not following. What like run the company?” Rosie asked, confused by his statement.

“No. Dad is a mobster. He runs a mob and he wants me to succeed him.” “What the fuck? When did this happen? Why the fuck haven’t you told me?” Rosie exclaimed.

“Our birthday. This is what I was trying to tell you at the party!” Parker yelling causing Rosie to yell back. “Sorry, I was a little preoccupied and so were you!” Rosie hinting at Charlotte. “Don’t turn this on me. What the fuck are you doing with Henry, by the way? You think I don’t see the two of you sneaking around.” Parker quipped, in reality he had never seen their antics. “Nothing, it’s none of your business,” Rosie said, shying away from him. “Of course, it’s my business he’s my best friend.” “Well he is mine too and the world doesn’t revolve around you. If you weren’t so busy breaking curfew and sneaking out, you would see that Henry is really good to me, ever since that night.” Rosie explained stopping herself before she said something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge herself.

“Rosie, what happened?” Parker asked noticing her quick change in demeanor.

“You won’t care,” Rosie quipped.

“Try me,” Parker said softly.

“That night… someone slipped something in my drink and tried to take advantage of me, but Henry stopped it.” Rosie explained, trying to avoid the brute of Parker’s rage.

“Who? Tell me who right fucking now!”

“Connor.”

“I’m gonna kill him” “No, Henry already took care of it. You already have enough blood on your hands,” Rosie chuckled, surprised Parker cared that much. “Thanks,” he said with sarcasm.

“Roo, I’m so sorry. I should’ve known.” “It’s ok. I’m just trying to put it behind me”

“So what you are a mobster now?” “One in training. I need you to know I’m doing this for one reason only, to avenge Charlotte, okay. Not looking to kill for sport like mom and dad.”

Rosie’s suspicions grew over the years that her parents did enjoy living above the law. It didn’t bother her, she actually hoped the mantle would be passed on to her. She had a more fiery spirit than Parker, he was just a big softie on the inside much like his father. Appearances can be deceiving.

Tom was currently in his office, finishing up work for the night. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The last person he thought would call him, his dad.

“So are you going to say thanks?” asked Dom.

“For what? I don’t time for your antics, dad. A hit was hired on Parker and I have to figure out who did it.” Tom sighed. He was frustrated he was getting no where, who was the Merchant of Death. “Umm, hello. Like I said you’re welcome,” Dom quipped.

“You fucking mean that was you.”

“Duh, told you he needed a push in the right direction. I wasn’t the one to pull the trigger but I knew where he was.” “I have a crushed kid over here wanting revenge on the bastards who killed his girlfriend.” “Problem solved, glad he is joining the family business.” Dom said and hung up. How the fuck was Tom going to explain to Parker that his grandpa arranged the hit?

“FUCK!!” Tom screamed smashing everything in sight.

Meanwhile, Parker made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water when he saw you sitting on the couch, consumed in your book.

“Hey mom?” Parker asked, needing to get something off his chest. “Yeah, honey,” you responded, drawing your eyes away from your book. “I need to tell you something.”

“I’m listening… wait what the fuck was that. Hold that thought.” You hesitated when you heard a large crash come from Tom’s office.

“Let me go check on your father,” you said, getting up from the couch. Parker couldn’t help but be curious. He followed her before she closed the door and listened in, pressing his ear against the door.

“Tommy, what happened?” You queried. “It was him,” Tom spoke with an unchanging expression. “Who, Carson?” “No, Dom. He arranged the hit,” Tom said.

Parker’s heart sunk to his stomach. His girlfriend was dead because of his family. He really did kill her.

Maybe he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger but she was seen with him. As far as he is concerned it painted a huge red target on her back. What kind of life was he born into? He never wanted any of this and now all he is, is this.

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland blurb #mob!tom #mob tom #mob!tom holland #dad!mob!tom holland #mob!tom x mob!reader #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom holland x reader #dad!mob!tom

86 notes · View notes

onceabluemoonwrites · 4 years

Text

Cursed Kiss - Chapter 1: The Cursed Castle

Title: Cursed Kiss Chapter 1: The Cursed Castle

Author: OnceABlueMoon

Rating: T

Pairing: Bianchi/Chrome Dokuro

Tags/Warnings: There is some violence

Prompt: Lightning day: curses for @khrrarepairweek

Summary: The tale of Kuromu Dokuro is an old one, perhaps preceding even the existence of the monster hunters. To think the woman in the tale- the monster she became- is here, in front of her? Bianchi shudders to think of it.

Still, she has no choice. Her grip tightens on the knife in her hand, but before she can start to make her move, Kuromu- Chrome?- raises her hand, shaking her head. ‘’No need to fight your way out, darling, if you want to buy your brother’s freedom. All you need to do is take the geas on in his place.’’

Monster hunter Bianchi bargains her freedom for her brother’s and has to stay in the vampire Chrome’s castle. But the horrors within are not the shadows that whisper and follow Bianchi wherever she goes- no, to the contrary, the horrors are inside the mind of her captor.

AO3 link

Chapter 1: The Cursed Castle

The banging upon the gate is like a heartbeat. It’s so consistent, the battering ram colliding with the wood and steel, the precision almost inhuman. It would make Bianchi laugh, if the fear didn’t close up her throat. She reaches down, taking Chrome’s hand, not taking her eyes off the courtyard before them. ‘’They won’t take you.’’ She says it with desperation colouring her words. ‘’They won’t take you, I won’t let them!’’

She promises it with all that she has in her. It has been so long since she’s felt actual happiness. Now she has it, she won’t let go of it so easily. She’ll fight to the death to defend it, to defend Chrome, if she must.

Chrome laughs and it startles Bianchi. She’s so much older in soul, and yet her body seemingly younger than Bianchi’s. Her gothic dress swishes around her feet, showing her pale, naked feet as she lets go of Bianchi’s hand and begins to circle her, as if taking her in.

Bianchi feels naked. She hasn’t worn her armour in almost a year now. It hadn’t exactly been meant for anything more than hunter raids, far too stiff for the necessities of daily life. It had to be, in order to be strong enough to defend against the monsters of the night. The dresses that Chrome had stored in the castle weren’t exactly the kind that could be worn to battle, but they’d been good enough for a quiet life here. Good enough for spars with Chrome and writing letters to her brother.

God, Hayato. What is she going to tell him if she dies here tonight? He won’t understand. He never did.

Or, perhaps, he is the only one who can understand. Nobody loves monsters as much as her brother, after all, and even if it landed her here, in this moment, she can’t resent him for it. She loves him. She loves him, just as she loves Chrome. Tears well up in her eyes. She hates herself a little for that. This is no time to cry. This is the time to fight.

As all stories must start somewhere, Bianchi’s start the night her mother gets killed. Now you must know, her mother loved her very much. Bianchi loved her mother less, but perhaps that had more to do with how often she had to fish her little brother (her father’s bastard) out of the well after her mother tried to drown him again.

Funnily enough, her mother doesn’t get killed by the beast tearing it’s way through their village directly. There are no bite marks on her body, no slashes through her throat. There is no sign of the were-creature anywhere on her body. No, her mother tried to get away and fell into the very well she tried to drown Hayato in so often.

Bianchi wonders if karma is real, as she stares down at the corpse floating in the water.

It hurts, a little, to see her. But there are many bodies to bury, and her mother is just one amongst the many. She sends Hayato back inside and calls Renato over. ‘’Help me get her out.’’

‘’For the funeral pyres?’’ Renato asks, as he rolls up his sleeves.

‘’No, before she poisons the well or something. We’ve got to drink that water. This is just plain unsanitary.’’

He cocks his head, looks at her, considering, and then says: ‘’Hey, how do you feel about joining the resistance? We’ve always got room for people like you.’’

People like you, Bianchi thinks now, after years, and the resistance. Renato might’ve meant it as a compliment, but it really, really wasn’t.

She joins the resistance with her little brother clinging to her skirts. She’s fifteen, already tired of the world, and doesn’t flinch when they hand her a knife, hand her a bow, hand her a sword and tell her to figure it out before throwing her onto the battlefield. She figures it out in time. She survives.

They give her armour after that, as if now she’s properly blooded, didn’t die at the first raid, she’s worth investing in. She likes how heavy it is on her shoulders. It feels like responsibility. Like a shield. Like she’s protecting people.

‘’Why do you kill them?’’ Hayato asks one night as she tucks him into bed.

Bianchi sighs. ‘’Because they eat people, Hayato. Because vampires drink and werewolves bite and all that bumps in the night is evil. Because they’re monsters.’’

And Hayato, only seven, looks up at her with trembling lips and says: ‘’Must monsters always be killed for being what they are?’’

Bianchi’s heart clenches. Survived again, that little monster? She hears her mother’s voice echo in her head. ‘’No, Hayato, of course not. We only- We only kill monsters that do unforgivable things, okay. Only unforgivable things.’’

His eyes are filled with fear and she can only say: ‘’It doesn’t matter anyway, because you’re not a monster, you hear me?’’

‘’But what if I am?’’ His eyes are brimming with tears and she folds herself around him, hugging him tight.

‘’Then I’ll forgive you everything. Everything you can think of. Anything, any crime you’ll ever commit. I’ll forgive you.’’

‘’You promise?’’ he asks.

‘’I promise, with the force of the moon and the sun and the stars, and the very sky above us.’’

He sleeps soundly that night.

That very promise comes back to haunt her in the spring of Hayato’s fourteenth year of life. He’s nearly at his majority. Fifteen will make him capable of apprenticing properly, whether that is with the hunters or anywhere else, so Bianchi’s let him wander. He’s old enough now, and she knows his heart doesn’t lie within her own profession, the killing of monsters, and she’s hoping that he’ll find something he likes enough to make his living out of it.

Deep inside her heart, she knows he is best suited to be a scholar, smarter than her by leagues, but being a scholar requires proper schooling beyond just an apprenticeship. As much as she wants to give him the world, they don’t have the money for that kind of thing.

He says his goodbyes to her when he leaves to see the great market, to find out if being a merchant could possibly satisfy him. She laughs and ruffles his hair and calls him her ‘almost-adult’. He bears it scowling and all, but the next morning his horse returns without him, and Bianchi’s heart is in her throat.

She goes to the forest.

Now here is the thing: Bianchi doesn’t find the castle until she is thoroughly lost, after she’s killed wolves that attacked her, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, until the rain has soaked her through. She is, thus, allowed to be excused for the fact she didn’t immediately cotton on to it’s aura from a mile away, even though she really should have.

The gargoyles on the roof are ugly and snarling, the grand, French baroque build of the thing in disrepair, as the gate stands tall. It emanates the feeling of magic and it smells like a curse. Bianchi’s never really been able to describe magic in terms other than that. It is a feeling, as well a smell, and curses smell like thorns and rotten, withering roses. The castle reeks of it.

She should have known a place like this would have attracted her brother. She stalks towards the open gate and kicks a side door until it opens up, not trusting the main entrance. The castle is huge, sprawling even, and Bianchi listens for a second, but she hears no sound beyond the rustling of the wind. There are spider webs on the ceiling, and dust flurries around with every sigh of the wind through the broken windows, but Bianchi ignores it as she lights a torch and gets it off the wall. She makes straight for where- logically, seeing the lay-out of the castle- the dungeons must be.

She finds him there, shivering slightly in the corner of his cell. She feels the urge to kick the bars to get his attention, but that would make a large amount of noise, and she isn’t willing to risk that in enemy territory.

Laying into him, now, that she is willing to do in enemy territory. ‘’Hayato,’’ she snarls, trying to keep her volume down, ‘’What in the great blazes where you thinking, going here?!’’

Hayato startles, bumping his head against the wall. ‘’Shit! Woman, couldn’t you not scare the daylight out of me?!’’

She narrows her eyes and glares him into submission. He throws his hands up. ‘’Fine! I was going to the market, honestly. I just… Came across this castle and wanted to talk to its owner? How was I supposed to know she would imprison me?!’’

‘’Maybe,’’ Bianchi hisses through gritted teeth, ‘’Because this place smells like it belongs to a witch or a vampire, and both would like your very human blood? God, Hayato, I thought you were over this!’’

Now he’s looking hurt. ‘’Just because you refuse to see not all creatures of the night are bad doesn’t mean the rest of us have to! And okay, maybe vampires are a little bitey, but most witches don’t hurt a fly!’’

Bianchi’s breath catches in her throat, all her anger draining out of her, making place for a deep, deep fear. ‘’Hayato, how do you know that?’’

‘’Well, maybe I know a couple of witches here and there…’’ he trials off when her head thunks against the bars.

‘’One of these days, I’m going to say goodbye to you and you’re never coming back, are you? Because you can’t see danger when it’s coming straight at you. How many times, Hayato?’’

He doesn’t answer.

‘’HOW MANY TIMES?’’ Her breath turns ragged as the scream leaves her throat. ‘’Did you make deals with them? Hayato, please tell me you didn’t sell your soul.’’

He fidgets. ‘’No… But I did give them a little hair.’’ He sneaks a glance up at her, before getting defensive: ‘’Only a little bit! God, don’t get so worked up about it! Yamamoto might be a basket case but I know he won’t use it for evil!’’

Bianchi wants to scream, but the shadows around them are starting to get darker. Darker, and inkier, running more and more like ink blotting on paper. The owner of the castle is getting closer, and Bianchi needs to know what she’s going to fight. ‘’Who put you here?’’

Her brother opens her mouth, but she knows that look so she cuts him off. ‘’No, what put you here?’’

That’s when she feels icy fingers on the back of her neck. Bianchi freezes.

‘’Wouldn’t you like to know?’’ a voice as sleek and smooth as silk murmers in her ear.

A shiver works it’s way down her spine.

She whirls around and is faced by- a vampire? A witch? It’s hard to make out, with how strong the curse emanates from her. It’s a woman, in any case, skin as pale as that of a corpse, purple bags underneath purple eyes, and hair long and violet, in an half updo underneath her little black top hat. Her dress is black and it blends in with the inky shadows, melding until it seems like she’s wearing nothing but the darkness itself.

‘’Release my brother and I might refrain from killing you,’’ Bianchi hisses, because Hayato is her first priority, now and forever.

The woman starts to laugh, and ah, yes, there they are. Fangs, elongated in her mouth. ‘’You, threaten me within my own walls? Darling, your brother went through the main entrance, and all who pass there are bound to me. No mere human could kill me in my homestead.’’

A trident appears at her side, as if summoned from deep within the castle. Bianchi’s eyes widen. ‘’K- Kuromu Dokuro?’’

The woman smiles, sweet and yet insidious. ‘’It’s pronounced ‘Chrome’, but yes. That would be me.’’

It can’t be. Kuromu Dokuro is an old tale, perhaps preceding even the existence of the hunters. To think the woman in the tale- the monster she became- is here, in front of her? Bianchi shudders to think of it.

That was fine- that was good, in fact. It’d get Hayato out of the way, and while getting a geas on you while not knowing what it was was never good idea, it was better than having an unknown geas on him. ‘’Fine,’’ she barked, ‘’But you get him back to the village safely!’’

‘’Ane-san, no! You don’t like monsters, you won’t like it here at all!’’

She sent him a scathing look. ‘’You’re in a cell, Hayato, I’m taking that geas from you whether you want it or not.’’

She doesn’t look at him as the shadows drag him out of his cell and into the cold, hopefully back towards the village. Chrome darts forwards as the shadows come back, bringing her something that looks like a fallen star. She snatches it out of their grasp, before putting it on Bianchi’s tongue and forcing her to swallow.

It tastes like defeat, and the geas feels heavy upon her heart.

The geas, as she later finds out, imposes a list of requirements that steadily get more curious as they come along: the first she discovers is that she cannot attack Chrome, a reasonable geas to place upon one’s own castle if one is powerful enough to cast one in the first place. The second requires Bianchi to have dinner with her each night. The third, to her surprise, is that the longer she spends time with Chrome, the more the shadows listen to her.

It’s very convenient when she wants a glass of water in the middle of the night. Still a little creepy though, with the way the shadows reach for her at every corner now. But Bianchi doesn’t think she minds.

Spending time with Chrome is, surprisingly, no real hardship. The vampire likes fine red wine just as well as Bianchi does, and she makes a mean pasta. Or the shadows do- Bianchi’s not entirely clear about who exactly mans the kitchen here. She’s never seen a single soul besides her, Chrome and the shadows.

Sometimes she thinks she can hear the shadows cry, a thousand voices crying out for their freedom, but surely that’s just her sleep deprivation acting up again.

Bianchi doesn’t mind the castle, but her sleep is troubled anyway. She’s not used to being away from Hayato for this long, despite her many usual hunting trips.

It is thus, one night, that she decides to get her glass of water herself, instead of asking the shadows to fetch it for her. They push and pull at her, as if trying to prevent her from going towards the west wing, but Bianchi likes the motion of it. Likes how it makes her work to move forward. She’s strong- they can’t hold her back properly, inky and weak to light as they are.

Instead of the kitchens, she ends up in a room she’s never seen before. There’s a portrait, above the hearth, of a man and a woman and a little girl. The girl is looking up to her parents, but her face is stricken off the canvas.

Bianchi knows who she’s looking at anyway. The tale of the princess Kuromu Dokuro leaves no question about it.

‘’What are you doing here?’’ Chrome’s own voice sounds behind her, tired and dead.

Bianchi frowns, turning around to face her. The bags underneath Chrome’s eyes are even deeper than normal, and her violet eyes have turned a deep, wine-dark purple. ‘’I can’t sleep,’’ she says, ‘’Want to throw knives at the chandelier in the main hall and see who can bring it down?’’

Property destruction is one of their favourite games these days.

Chrome shakes her head. ‘’Not unless you want me to slip and drink from you.’’

Bianchi cocks her head. ‘’I thought that’d be part of the geas. The right to drink from me, I mean.’’

Chrome laughs, deep and without humour, a sound at odds with her strangely delicate appearance. She’s so much smaller than Bianchi, and yet, without a doubt, far more powerful. ‘’You know very well that the geas is a rule of three. The three commandments I asked of you are the ones you’ve already discovered. I wouldn’t ask more of you.’’

‘’You’re Kuromu Dokuro, though.’’ Says Bianchi, without thinking.

She pays for it when Chrome flinches back, looking genuinely hurt before her mask slides back on again. ‘’I thought you’d know me better than that, by now.’’

Chrome turns decisively, her skirt flaring out, and leaves her own quarters at a sedate pace. It doesn’t change what it is, though. She’s fleeing.

She’s fleeing Bianchi, and Bianchi doesn’t know what to do, because Kuromu Dokuro is a monster, but perhaps, Chrome Dokuro is not.

If only she’d known that before hurting the person she’s forced to live with.

#khr #khrrarepairweek2020 #day 4 #lightning day #curses #fanfiction #onceabluemoonwrites fic #bianchi/dokuro chrome #bianchi #dokuro chrome

13 notes · View notes

dylinski · 5 years

Text

Wasting Time

Request from Anon: How about #1 I love you, please dont go for sterek

Warnings: language, angst, little make out sesh

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale

Word Count: 2079

Author: @dylan-obrien-fanblog

A/N: Sorry this took me so long, I just couldn’t find the inspiration but I found it!!!! this is also what ignited my little sterek rant post I posted yesterday. i hope ya’ll like it.

Listen to THIS. It was my inspiration and is now my new favorite Sterek song.

Derek grunted as he turned in his bed for the hundredth time that night. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get comfortable and fall asleep despite being exhausted. Sleeping in a shitty motel bed didn’t help much either. He had been on the run for almost a year with the FBI chasing after him. Being framed for mass murder sucked, but thankfully Stiles intervened when they were just about to catch him. That was a couple months ago, so Stiles has had time to recover from his ‘injury’. He was still a wanted man, but Stiles was using all the power he had with the FBI to throw them off his tracks or to find evidence that proved Derek’s innocence. There have been a few leads, but none of them ever panned out and only led to dead ends.

In order to stay under the radar, Derek would move around to different motels every couple nights, but never too far from where Stiles was. At first, he only stuck around to make sure he was okay and recovered from the botched field op, which was mostly Stiles fault, but it was for Derek. He knew that it was a risk for him to save his ass, especially with only being an intern. He still couldn’t believe that he somehow convinced them to take an intern with little to no experience on a field op, he was also surprised he didn’t sway them to let him lead the damn thing. That was Stiles though, a relentless little bastard. After Stiles got better though, they had spent so much time together that it reminded Derek of the old days in Beacon Hills, fighting the bad guys and saving the world. Stiles begged him to stay and let him help to clear Hale name, and Derek just couldn’t say no to those whiskey eyes.

That wasn’t how things stayed though, tonight was terrible. Derek replayed the memory in his mind, going back to every word that was said and how each one cut him like a knife.

“Stiles, we haven’t had a new lead in weeks. This is getting ridiculous.”

“I know. I’m checking a few other things out, but it will take a while for my sources to get back to me.” Stiles rummaged through some papers that were laying on the bed, trying to make a connection between something, anything.

Derek sat at the small square table in the corner of the room, scanning his own pile of papers, but gave up on them a while ago. After some tense silence, Derek finally spoke. “I’m leaving in the morning Stiles.”

Stiles froze and slowly looked up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his face laced with anger and confusion. “What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving in the morning?”

“I mean exactly what is sounds like. How is that confusing?” Derek was befuddled as to why Stiles didn't understand him.

“I know what you said asshat! I just don’t believe it!” Stiles was now standing as he shouted at the raven haired man from across the room. He started pacing as Derek leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t leave, we said we were going to figure this out together.” Stiles started biting his thumb as he stared at his feet, continuing to tread back and forth. He suddenly stopped and looked up at Derek with weepy eyes. “You said you would let me help you.”

“You tried helping and we’ve gotten nowhere. It’s time for me to move on and search for other solutions.” Derek spoke calmly with a-matter-of- fact tone, hiding his own despair behind his stolid mug.

Stiles eyes dried quickly and his tears were replaced with rage. He scrunched up his nose in the way he does when he’s trying to stop himself from lashing out, which was evident by his clenched fist at his side. “Move on from Virginia or move on from me?” He couldn’t look Derek in the eyes when he asked his question through gritted teeth and found himself fixed on a point somewhere beyond the careless man.

Derek subtly flinched at Stiles’ last few words and his heart skipped. He kept his forthright features, despite everything he was feeling. His words were caught in his throat, so he spoke as few as possible fearing they would betray his composure. “Both.” He swallowed the lump in his throat as he heard Stiles whine in his throat, like a cry for help, he wouldn’t had heard it if it weren't for his wolf hearing.

“FINE! THEN FUCKING LEAVE!” Stiles grabbed his suit coat and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. His absence was felt and the room became silent and cold. Derek could feel the sorrow brimming at his eyes. He never wanted to hurt the boy, but that was all he knew how to do. Everyone he ever loved got hurt because of him, he was just better off on his own. There was no point in him dragging Stiles down with him, possibly ruining his career and reputation and even the smallest possibility of getting him killed. It was a stretch for him to even accept his help in the first place, but he had been here too long and it was time to press on, leaving Stiles behind...again.

Derek just laid there, staring at the ceiling repeating Stiles’ words in his head only hours after he spoke them. He hated that he left things that way, but there was no point in bothering the brunette when he was angry and had his mind set on something. He had no intention of seeing him again before he left at dawn, unable to deal with confrontation and emotions. He shifted in his bed, yet again, and closed his eyes trying to push out the sound of pain in his friend’s voice. Lost in thought, a knock at the door drowned out all the noise in his head. He sat up and immediately knew it was Stiles from his scent and the sound of his heartbeat, which was racing. He got up and opened the door, leaning against it wearing only sweatpants.

Stiles was soaked from the rain, still wearing his suit which meant he never went home after their argument. He looked up at Derek, his hair matted to his forehead and eyes full of tears that were indistinguishable from the droplets of rain that rested on his cheeks. Neither of them needed to speak, and Derek let him into the small room as he went to the bathroom to get him a towel. He grabbed an extra pair of sweatpants and a shirt from his already packed bag and handed them to the wet man while he was roughly scrubbing his head. The towel left his hair sticking up in all directions and Derek couldn’t hold back a smile as he remembered the young boy who used to wear his hair spiked up all the time. Stiles didn’t bother with his hair anymore and he wasn’t that young boy anymore either. Stiles peeled off the damp clothes and changed into the dry ones, causing Derek to blush. He had never even seen him shirtless before, but it was different than seeing another man topless...it was Stiles. It was always Stiles. He always did something to him that no one else did, something he couldn’t explain or begin to understand.

Once the spiky haired boy was settled, he sat down at the foot of the bed and let his head fall. He gulped, like he was nervous and preparing to make a speech which was not unforeseen for him. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and then looked up to Derek standing in front of him, looming with his arms crossed. Most people had resting bitch face, Derek had resting bitch arms.

“Derek...:” His voice croaked and sounded raw, like he had been crying and screaming for an unreasonable amount of time. Derek could see the pain in his eyes when the dark chestnut orbs took him in. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but the thing I regret the most is that I didn’t ask you to stay after Mexico. I know we’re both different people now and we’ve changed since you left, but I still feel like we haven’t.” He was crying again, avoiding eye contact as he stared at his feet. Derek had let his arms fall to his sides and his face more empathetic. He kneeled down to meet the boys face and squeezed his arm.

Stiles still didn’t look up, but continued on his monologue. “I’ve wasted so much time...spent countless nights trying to push you down, ignoring this hole in my chest that manifested the second you walked away. You said you’d be back, but I knew in my heart you wouldn’t. It was just by chance that the FBI was hunting you and I got on the team. If that hadn’t happened, would I have ever seen you again?” The question was rhetorical, but Derek didn’t have an answer either way. He hooded his eyes in disappointment in himself as Stiles wiped his nose on the sleeve of the borrowed shirt. He held it under his nose for a minute, inhaling the smell of Derek that clung to the fabric.

“I know this a lot, Derek, and I don’t understand much of it myself, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t have these emotions and I can’t go through this again. I can’t watch you leave, not knowing if I’ll ever see you again, not when I feel this way.” Stiles finally looked up, staring into Derek’s eyes with a longing he had never seen in those honey iris’ before. “I’m not going to let you leave again, at least not without trying. So Derek...I love you and I’m begging you, please don’t go.”

Derek couldn’t hold back his tears or his own emotions anymore, he cupped Stiles cheek and searched his eyes for answers or some kind of sign that this wasn’t all just a dream. He could feel everything he was feeling by looking at his face and he wanted to take all the pain away, let him know that he wasn’t crazy, that this wasn’t stupid, that he loved him too. Derek leaned in and pressed his lips to Stiles’, leaving him awestruck as his eyes widened. Once it kicked in what was happening, he screwed his eyes shut and kissed him back passionately, turning the kiss into more than just that, but something fueled with desire and longing that had been begging to escape for years. Derek pressed against Stiles, causing him to crawl backwards up the bed, refusing to break the unrelenting kiss. Derek straddled Stiles as his tongue dug into his mouth, searching it’s depths and creating a dance between their lips.

Hearts were racing and chests were heaving as Derek pulled back for air, placing his forehead against Stiles’. Their breaths mingled as their lips brushed, still processing what was actually happening. Stiles pulled his head back and ran his fingers through the black hair of the man staring back at him, giving him a crooked smile that made Derek blush.

He pulled his leg over so that he could settle down next to the brunette and draped his arm around his shoulders. Stiles turned into his firm body and nuzzled his nose into the crevice of his arm, wrapping his arms in an enclosed circle around his waist. He could hear Derek’s heart through his chest, strong and rapid. Derek rested his head on top of Stiles’ spiky hair and whispered, “I’ll stay.” He could feel Stiles smile against his chest eliciting a smile of his own.

“Good, now I don’t have to resort to plan B.”

“Plan B?” Derek leaned back so he could see Stiles.

Stiles just giggled into his chest, “Yeah, I was going to break in and circle the room in mountain ash.” Stiles looked straight at Derek with a serious expression as if it was the most logical solution.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile again as he thought back to Derek’s words. It meant more than what laid at the surface. In his own way when he said ‘I’ll stay’, he was actually saying ‘I love you too’.

Taglist: @bitch-banshee

#sterek #eternalsterek #sterek fanfiction #stiles stilinski #derek hale #mostly fluff #wasting time #post season 6A #pre season 6B #my writing

109 notes · View notes

justliketherifle · 5 years

Text

Trouble Always Finds Me Chapter 6

You and Jack hugged for a few minutes, both crying. When you finally parted, he brushed your hair behind your ear and again told you he was proud of you. You wiped the tears off your face and tried in vain to get the wet spot off his shirt.

“It's fine, she'll dry. Don't worry about it.”

“Okay. Thank you for being here.”

“Darlin', it is my genuine pleasure.” He kissed your temple and wiped away his own tears with a smile.

“You know, I got Mac's shirt all wet earlier too.”

“Oh yeah? So what's going on with you two?”

“Dad!”

“What? It's a fair question. That boy barely leaves your side.”

“Honestly? I don't even know if he likes me like that.”

He chuckled. “Honey, you must be blind then. The whole team sees it.”

“Well, tell him to make a move then.”

“Uh uh, I am not telling my best friend to make a move on my girl.”

You laughed. “Fair enough. Guess I'll just have to do it.”

“Just please wait 'til I'm not around because I’m cool with you two, but not that cool.”

“Deal.”

Jack left shortly after that, placing a kiss on your temple. You closed your eyes and leaned into it, promising to text him.

Mac came back in and gave you a smile.

“So how'd it go?”

“Better than expected. We both cried.”

“That doesn't surprise me.”

“It honestly felt so good to tell him. I went into more detail and my shoulders feel lighter.”

“I’m glad. You look like you could use some more rest.”

“Yeah, I could. I just…can I try something?”

He looked unsure. “Yeah, what's up?”

You moved closer to him, staring up into his deep blue eyes. His breathing quickened as you reached up and placed your hand on his cheek.

“Just stop me if you don't want this.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. You leaned in slowly, gently pressing your lips to his. He immediately responded, taking your face in his hands and kissing you back eagerly. You put your other hand on his chest and felt his heart racing, matching your own. You kissed for a few minutes, exploring each other's mouths and reveling in the moment.

When you pulled apart, pressing your forehead to his, you were both gasping for breath.

“Wow,” he breathed out.

“Yeah,” you said with a giggle.

“That was…amazing.”

“Agreed. We should definitely do that again.”

He smiled. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Once you go Mac, you don't go back.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed at you. “You’re a dork.”

You got serious. “I’m your dork. If you want.”

“Definitely. Now you need to get more sleep. Come on.”

He took your hand and led you to bed, sweetly covering you with your blanket before laying down close to you. You gripped each other's hands and smiled.

“God, you're so gorgeous,” you complained.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Hell no. It's just hard not to stare at you.”

“Well, I can say the same about you. You're ridiculously beautiful.”

You blushed. “Yeah right.”

“Hey. I don't lie. I mean it. I've barely been able to keep my eyes off you since we met.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Damn, Mac, you really know what to say to a girl.”

He chuckled. “I try. Now get some sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You smiled happily before reaching over and kissing him again.

“I think I really like you,” you whispered.

“I think I really like you too.”

After that, you drifted off, feeling comfortably warm and safe with Mac. It was a few hours later when the alarms went off.

You both shot up out of bed, scrambling for the door.

“Stay inside!” a voice shouted. “The Phoenix has been breached!”

You looked at Mac, absolutely terrified. He grabbed your hand, determined look in his eye.

“Nothing's gonna happen to you. Not while I'm around.”

You leaned into his side and he wrapped his arm around you. You both stared at the door as the shooting started.

Your ears began to ring and you started to feel faint. You had flashbacks to that day as Mac lowered you to his bed and tried to talk to you. You couldn't hear him, just the shots. Tears were blurring your vision. Everything was flashing between the room you were in and the hallways of your high school.

Mac's voice suddenly brought you back.

“(Y/N)! Can you hear me?”

You could only nod as he wiped away your tears.

“It’s gonna be okay. Still trust me?”

You found your voice. “With my life.”

“Okay, good.” He began looking around for anything he could use as a weapon. He ran to the door.

“Murdoc! I know you're out there!”

An evil voice came out of the speaker. “Angus. So good to see you again.”

Mac looked at the camera. “You’re not getting near her, you sick bastard.”

“Oh, has MacGyver found love perhaps? How quaint. That will make my killing her even sweeter.”

Mac growled and hid you behind him. “That’s never gonna happen.”

“You’re now trapped in a small room in your own headquarters, with no way of getting to your team. Just how do you expect to stop me?”

“I’ll find a way.”

“They should put that on your tombstone. I have no qualms about going through you to get to her.”

A thrill of fear shot through you. You pulled on Mac's arm.

“Mac, maybe I should just go to him. I can't risk all your lives just for mine!”

He turned to face you. “No way. I told you I'll protect you. That's what I'm gonna do.” He kissed you.

“Aw, how adorable. Are you picturing it yet, Angus? Her bloody, broken body on the floor in front of you?”

Mac grabbed a chair and set it underneath the camera before ripping the camera out of the wall.

“Such anger.”

“Shut up!” you cried.

“That’s not very nice, (Y/N). I see you take after your father.”

“You’re damn right I do!”

Murdoc chuckled over the speaker. “Now this is going to be so much fun.”

You groaned. God, did he ever stop talking? Mac had his Swiss army knife out and was fiddling with his cellphone.

“What are you doing?”

“Making an explosive.”

“Out of your phone?”

“Yeah. If I can get the battery to overheat, one phone call will light it up. You still have your phone?”

You pulled it out of your pocket. “Yeah, got it right here. Just give me your number. And promise to get a new phone ASAP.”

“Promise. 555-219-4823.”

“Got it. Just tell me when.”

“You're being surprisingly chill about this.”

“Eh, my boyfriend makes bombs out of phones. It's whatever.”

He stopped and smiled at you. “Boyfriend, huh?”

“’Fraid so. You're stuck with me handsome.”

He gave you a quick kiss before puncturing his cellphone battery and putting it back inside.

“When I say, open the door and call for our guys to clear out.”

“Okay.”

You both moved to the door.

“Now!” he yelled.

You threw open the door, yelled for the men to move, and Mac flung the phone into the hallway. You quickly slammed the door shut.

“Okay, call it now,” Mac ordered.

You called his phone and an explosion rang out.

“Come on!”

Mac grabbed your hand and pulled you out the door. You ran through the halls past several bodies on the floor until there was guy in a creepy mask with a gun in front of you. Mac went into action, kicking the gun out of his hands and beating the crap out of him. You thought for a second before picking up the gun. Mac gave you a look.

“What? I hate them but I'd rather not die,” you told him.

“Just keep the muzzle down. Let's go!”

You kept running, taking turns here and there, until another man appeared before you. You took aim and fired.

Gasping for breath, you lowered the gun. Mac put his hands on your shoulders.

“Hey, you did good. Just breathe.”

“Okay. I'll be all right, just might throw up later.”

“I’ll hold your hair. Let’s keep moving.”

You laughed nervously. “Such a gentleman.”

You moved quickly through the hallways, shooting anyone who pulled a gun on you.

Suddenly, you ran into Jack and Bozer, both armed.

“Oh, thank god, are you all right?” Jack asked, hugging you both.

“We're good. Apparently, I'm a good shot in close quarters.” You showed him the gun and your hands started shaking.

“Hey, I'll switch you.”

He took the rifle from you and gave you his handgun and an extra mag, which you shoved in your back pocket.

“I've never killed anyone directly before, so if I go off the rails after all of this, I hope y'all understand,” you said.

“Hey, we get it. Riley was kinda messed up after hers. We're here for you, girl,” Bozer told you.

“Thanks, Boze. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

You all ascended the stairs, Mac and Bozer behind you and Jack in front. He flung open the door and took some shots.

“Okay, clear. Let's move!” Jack shouted.

You burst through the door, gun at the ready. You felt hands grab you from behind and you dropped your gun. You felt a gun against your head.

“Hello, (Y/N). So nice to finally meet you.”

The others turned around and Mac went for you. Bozer had to hold him back. Jack aimed his rifle at Murdoc's head.

“Let her go, psycho,” Jack said lowly.

“Come and get her, Daddy. No? What about you, loverboy?”

“I swear I’m gonna kill you, Murdoc,” Mac told him, fighting Bozer's grip.

“Promises, promises. I think the two of us will go for a ride.”

Jack looked like he was about to shoot. You shook your head. In an instant, you perfectly executed SING- Solar Plexus, Instep, Nose, Groin. Murdoc doubled over and you ran to Mac. A shot rang out and you fell to the floor.

“No!” Your dad fired and Murdoc dropped.

Mac turned you over and you groaned.

“Well, I didn't expect to get shot today,” you said jokingly.

“It went through, but you're bleeding heavily.” Mac took off his long sleeve shirt and pressed it to the wound on your stomach. You screamed. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I know it hurts.”

Jack and Bozer knelt next to you. “Mac?” he said in a broken voice. “She gonna be okay?”

“If we get her to the lab right now, yes.”

Jack handed his gun to Bozer and lifted you up carefully. You still cried out.

“It’s okay, baby girl, I got you.”

You all hurried to the lab. Jack set you on your side on a gurney and pulled up your shirt.

“That looks bad, man,” said Bozer.

“I know. I need to stitch her up. Can you give her some anesthesia?”

“I can,” said a strawberry blonde.

“(Y/N), this is Jill. She's a good egg, she'll help you,” Jack told you.

“Okay, just do it. I hate IVs,” you moaned.

Jill inserted the IV quickly. You sucked in a breath through your teeth.

“Sorry about that. Let's get you stitched up.”

Jill worked on your back first, disinfecting it while Mac held your hand.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” you replied weakly.

“You’re gonna be okay.”

“I know, MacGyver. I still trust you.”

He brushed your hair out of your face. He kissed your forehead sweetly.

Riley joined you then and took out her phone and snapped a few pictures.

“You two are seriously cute,” she told you.

“Thanks, Ri,” you said with a groan.

“She gonna be okay?” she asked Jill.

“She’ll be fine. Gonna hurt like hell for a while though.”

“It’s okay, I've been through this before.”

Riley glanced at Bozer. “Yeah, we know. I found an article. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Better you all know.”

Matty entered the room. “Better we all know what?”

“About my tragic past,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Oh. That. I'm so sorry.”

“Really, it's fine. I'd rather concentrate on my current bullet wound.”

Jill rolled you onto your back. “You feeling any pain?”

“Nah, I'm good. Think I might pass out. Or throw up, one or the other.”

“I’ll still hold your hair, sweetheart,” Mac said.

“Best boyfriend ever.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, boyfriend? When did this happen?” Jack asked.

“While we were trapped in a small metal room together?” you said with a laugh.

He nodded. “All right, fair enough. Mac-”

“I know, I hurt her, you'll rearrange my face.”

“You got it.”

“Can we stop the whole macho thing while I get the rest of my stitches?”

“Sure thing, baby girl,” Jack told you.

“And done!” Jill said cheerfully, cutting off the thread.

“Thank god. Mac, can we go home?”

“Of course. I'll pull the car up.”

You missed him as soon as he left. You shut your eyes and let the numbness wash over you.

Jill gave Jack a bottle of pills. “Have her take these whenever the pain gets too much.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Dad, I hate to ask. Can you carry me again?” you asked.

“Absolutely.”

He lifted you as gently as he could.

“Thank you, Daddy.” The drugs were taking full effect and you were getting woozy.

“It’s not a problem, honey. You just rest now.”

With that, you let yourself slip away.

#macgyver/reader #macgyver fanfic #macgyver fanfiction #macgyver #fanfic #fanfiction #Trouble Always Finds Me

4 notes · View notes