Hey hey, I was looking for Antonio Dawson content and I came across your blog❤️. I absolutely ADORE him I know he left a long time ago but that doesn’t mean my crush just went away (I mean that’s what re-runs are for). Do you still write for him?
Hi!
It’s crazy to think that it’s almost been three years since he left the team. I do still write for him! My posting on this account is sporadic since I often rotate what fandom I’m fixated on, but Antonio will always be near and dear to my heart. He is easily one of my favorite fictional characters ever. I’m always willing to write for him. I can’t say I’m very good at finishing requests quickly though haha.
Angst fics can help people come to terms with their own grief, begin healing, or give people that good cry that they need.
Smut fics can help people affirm and accept their sexuality. It can help them explore their sexuality in a safe way. They can also just be fun, and having fun is a drastically undervalued way to improve your mental health.
Dark fics can help people face their fears or process their trauma. It can make them feel safer and more secure. It can help them find their courage.
Fluff fics can give people rest and respite and comfort. It can give them hope that soft places exist and that maybe there is one out there for them. It can bring up their mood, which, if they have depression, can be a life saver.
And every fic people write makes someone feel less alone.
Point being, just because a particular thing doesn’t serve you, doesn’t mean it lacks value.
This is not to say that we have to consume all fic uncritically. Of course not. It is just to say that entire “genres” aren’t trash or lacking value just because they don’t serve you.
Could you do a nsfw alphabet with Antonio Dawson? Or just an imagine, really love your work <333
Literally my oldest request (I’d estimate maybe 3 years?) I struggled with this since I am not comfortable with writing NSFW so I wrote a general alphabet instead. I know it’s not what you wanted exactly, but also the chances that you’re still actively following this are low heh. But if you are, here you go!
Hey, can you please do a Antonio x teen!reader where she is one of his CIs is that he’s really protective over and she gets kidnapped because she gives him information? Thanks xx
Hi! I combined this with another request for a second part to an existing fic I already had, but I will say this whole Antonio being a father figure might stick around. I really like writing it. I linked the fic below!
A/N: Reader is between 14-17, so this is a Father Figure!Antonio x Reader. No romance, 100% platonic.
TW: Nothing horribly graphic, some mild angst, but mostly just to lead up to the fluff
Masterlist
It sure was cold outside. Chicago had been cold, but Minnesota somehow was colder. Your aunt had apologized she couldn't pick you up from school but it wasn't really her fault. She had to pick up some extra shifts to keep up with the bills. You're just glad she let you stay with her. 8 months ago, you really had no idea where you would end up.
8 months ago...
Detective Dawson ran off to make some calls, leaving you to your own thoughts. You noticed the worried glances of his coworkers watching you from the unit floor. You didn’t know any of them, they were all sorta intimidating in their own way, well, except for the woman with brown hair, she looked nice. It just felt better to block them out and focus on the mug in your hands. The hot chocolate had gotten cold in the time it took you to process everything and really you haven’t truly processed anything.
Dawson came back in the room, his face muddled with several emotions. There was some stress, determination and anger but you made out the sympathy on his features most of all. Most people don't want sympathy, but you were just glad someone was caring enough to do so. Trailing behind him was another cop, older, you'd seen him before, just didn't know his name.
"You got anyone we can call?" Antonio asks.
you had to wrack your brain a bit. It hadn’t occurred to you that this would be important. "I have an aunt. I haven't talked to her in years. My dad and her don't get along."
The two men exchanged a glance. And you understood now. If you didn't find a home yourself, they'd have to put you in a group home. That was not good. You had heard stories, everyone has. Group homes only provide shelter to trouble. If you ended up there who knows what would happen to you after. You hadn’t thought this through, this was a bad idea. In some sort of a desperate plea, you grab the detective’s hand as he’s about the leave with the other guy.
"Wait no no... I can't live in a home. I can't. I'd rather go home to my dad. Please no." Panic evident in your voice. His face softens, kneeling down to your height. He was just going to try to comfort you. You forced yourself to remember whatever he says can’t change the truth. He isn’t the one making the rules. You’re not naive.
"Hey, hey kiddo. Not there yet, let's give your aunt a ring and see if we can get ahold of her. You got a name?" His voice calm, if he was worried you really couldn’t tell now, unlike when he first returned. You gave her name, not knowing anything besides she lived in St. Paul. But they were cops, you figured they could track her down.
The other guy, Voight, left, you heard him call out to someone named Halstead to run your aunt's name. Antonio didn’t move, just kept holding your hand looking around as if he wasn’t. The fact we seemed unbothered by the comforting gesture put you more at ease, yet you still were struggling with this.
"B-but what if she doesn't want me?"
There was a look of disbelief in his face, as if you were made of solid gold. It was fake and you knew it, still, it was comforting. "We're gonna figure it out, ok? I'll tell her myself what a great kid you are."
"I'm sorry."
The detective didn’t have to say anything, but you knew he deflected your apology. Somehow you just knew the minute you said it what his response was going to be. He didn’t feel bothered. And on top of this it was going to work out. He would make sure it worked out.
And it did. Given the explanation of the situation, your Aunt was happy to take you in. Antonio pulled some strings and you spent one night with his colleague Kim Burgess (the woman with the brown hair) before your aunt took over custody. In less than 48 hours you were on your way to Minnesota with a bag you packed and your dad had no clue. For once you knew there was at least one person who was worth trusting in this world.
The snow crunched below your feet. It was only another mile or so to your aunt’s place. The roads were pretty clear. Much of the snow had been packed down for days, but a recent heatwave melted and refroze the roads to solid ice. The deceiving snow was only an inch or two thick on top of the slick icy layer beneath. So, when you hear tires squeal, it is not in any way surprising. You were learning to drive yourself; ice roads were something that even your aunt had trouble managing let alone teach you how to navigate. You had respect for anyone who was able to successfully manage those roads in two-wheel drive. Whipping around, there’s not a two-ton car sliding towards you as you had expected, planning to dive roll into the snow. There’s a black van with a guy in a ski mask running towards you.
Crap.
Taking advantage of the ice, you threw your backpack at him, hoping he’d lose his balance and walk onto the more slippery road. Yet things do not go to plan as he easily recovers and continues to pursue you, reaching you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You fought. You screamed, wailed, bit, flailed, kicked and every other defensive action your subconscious could think of. It didn’t work, he was just too much bigger than you. You were thrown into the back of the van.
no no no no no this can’t be happening.
You considered yourself a calm person, but that was before you were tied and gagged in the back of a van. The darkness seemed to only escalate your fears as you had a blank canvas to imagine your worst nightmares becoming reality. "Please, just let me go” you must have said it 40 times before something heavy hit your head.
Things faded in and out. Darkness and light fought a battle, but you could never really tell if you could see or not, it was all just shadows. The nausea was also coming in waves, paired with the throbbing sensation on the back of your head. You had been pistol whipped. But of course, you didn’t know that. The sheer terror of the entire situation still had you disoriented. You couldn’t feel the time pass, most people know what a minute or five minutes feels like, but you couldn’t focus. It was all too much.
When the van doors slide open you hear the guy who grabbed you talk to whoever was driving. “I still can’t believe this guy.” His gruff voice scoffed, close by.
“Well, he had the money, who are we to judge.”
“Guy? Had someone hired them to take me? Was I about to be sold or something?”
You’re embarrassed to say the next voice you heard brought you half a millisecond of comfort, it was misplaced. “You had to put a sack over her head?” It was your dad. How? Better question why would he ask that question though he had no emotion in his voice.
The men and your dad talk as you wrestle with this entire shock. Suddenly someone picks you up and carries you over their shoulder. You figured it was guy who grabbed you, but feeling that whoever was holding you gently lowered you to the floor, you made the new assumption it was your dad. The blindfold and gag came off in a quick motion. You were met with the hollow face of your father in some sort of abandoned room. He gave a sickening smile, one that brought no relief with it. “I brought you back sugar!”
“Dad, let me go.”
He nodded and started to undo your restraints. It couldn’t be this easy. Taking a moment, he was preoccupied with removing the duct tape glue from your arms, as if he cared, you jumped up, running across the room to open the metal door, but it was locked.
“Open the door, dad.”
“Y-you’ll just leave.” He whimpered, face looking offended.
This wasn’t your dad. The eyes were too hopeful and the demeanor was too caring. This was you dad having some sort of a mental breakdown. The pieces came together as you watched the tremors in his hands. Not knowing the man in front of you felt more terrifying than the man you ran away from. Before, you knew somewhere buried deep in his subconscious he would never seriously harm you beyond some bruises. But you stared into eyes you didn’t recognize. It was entirely possible he was going to kill you. All of that mess 8 months ago just to end up dying in Chicago and nobody knows about it.
But that’s where you were wrong.
Within a 25 mile radius…
“Detective Dawson,”
The somewhat uncaring police deputy at St. Paul started running down the situation. There wasn’t much to tell. Your backpack was found in a snowbank near some blood in the snow with you nowhere to be found. Your aunt had been adamant that the deputy at the front desk reach Antonio. And of course, the detective roped his unit into the situation. Voight made it a priority. It didn’t take a psychologist to see that Antonio cared about you, he cared about all his teen CIs. They were his secondary kids. He would find you, even if he hadn’t promised you to do so. He promised himself. When word had come in that your dad had been behind the entire situation it was not much of a shock. A man with a past of petty crime and domestic abuse with mental health concerns did seem like a high probability suspect. He had also rented out a storage container on the industrial side of town. Antonio and his team suited up. He was going to end this situation here and now.
“CHICAGO PD OPEN THE DOOR”
In a frenzied craze, your father throws you to the floor. It would make sense for him to run, but logic wasn’t a key factor right now. His foot goes to your neck and the gun points to your head. The gun must have been on his back, you hadn’t seen it until now.
I don’t want to die.
Not like this.
Not here.
Please no.
Please.
Bursting through the door you make out several people with weapons drawn on your dad. Light floods the dark room leaving the two of you partially blind, yet the tension still filled the air.
“LET HER GO.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order. Regardless, your neck was still being crushed. Air was slowly waning from your lungs. And then it wasn’t. In an instant you felt his foot roll out from over you, giving you a chance to scramble away.
“Y/N, Y/N, it’s ok. We’re police.”
And that was likely the only time anyone from your side of town was happy to hear that phrase. But still, you couldn’t quite comprehend it. It was a full mess of tears, screaming, wailing and shaking. You had been mere seconds from death by gun or choking, you couldn’t just suck it up. Not even you were that badass. Nonetheless, the cops weren’t getting anywhere with calming you down.
“Call an ambo.” Calls another voice, a woman. “Tonio, you ok?”
“Yeah” And under normal circumstances you would have connected the dots, but as it has already been overly reiterated, you were not stable right now. The only thing you could register was the familiar hand on top of yours gently squeezing your arm below.
“Shhh shhh, it’s ok kiddo, we got you. He’s gone.”
Hold it, you know that voice.
And what would you know, you finally grasped it. Staring down at you is Detective Dawson, once again saving your neck, literally. It was probably against some rule, but you just buried your head in his shoulder trying to block out everything outside. He let it slide, just holding you there, seemingly not in any rush to move you till the paramedics arrived. In time you realized the other officer trying to calm you down had been Burgess, but you just hadn’t recognized her. You’re in pain, but not horrendous amounts, must be the adrenaline. Regardless, Antonio calls another officer, Atwater, to carry you outside to the ambulance. Before you know it, the ambo is driving away from the scene to Chicago Med, leaving the Intelligence Unit to deal with the aftermath including Dawson.
Sitting in the ER, you wait for test results to return on your head scan. More had happened in the last 12 hours than in the last 8 months. You realized how much you liked the simplicity and (relative) safety of Minnesota, but now you’d at least carry pepper spray. You’re pulled from your thoughts as you see Dawson peak from the side of the curtains. You had not felt too lonely or afraid before given the officers stationed outside your room, but seeing him made you feel better.
“Hey kiddo, how’s the neck?” he smiles, moving into the room slowly as if he was trying not to scare you.
You smile weakly, still exhausted. “Alright, considering.” You noticed tape on the base of his neck on one side extending underneath his shirt where you couldn’t see. “What happened?”
“I might be getting a little long in the tooth for tackling suspects.” And by suspects, you knew he meant your dad. He was the one who got him off you. “Are you ok?” You ask. “All good, just had to get my shoulder checked out.”
“Ok, glad you’re ok.” And you truly were. You would feel awful if you had been the reason he had been seriously injured, especially after you were supposed to be out of his hair.
He nods, fiddling with his hands on the rail at the end of your bed. “Hey, your aunt is on her way to get you, it’s gonna be awhile, but I talked to your doctor and they said they’ll keep you till she arrives to monitor your concussion.”
You nod. “My dad?”
“We got him, he’s going away for a long time.” You notice his lack of enthusiasm in that response, obviously thinking that justice had not been fully served.
“But not forever.” Your voice soft, barely over a whisper.
He shook his head. “Long enough you’re not going to need to worry about him.”
“But you’ll come rescue me again if he tries, right?” You cocked an eyebrow, knowing it wasn’t a promise he could make, but every reassuring thing he told you made you feel better anyways.
“As much as I love the job, I don’t know if I’m going to be on the force in 40 years.”
“Yeah, you might not be able to a shoot a gun while using a walker with tennis balls on the bottom.” The two of you laugh a bit at that visualization.
As you quiet down you notice he looks a bit more serious.“But yeah, I’ll get you.”
Once again, probably against some protocol, but you just had to reach out and hug him burying your face in his leather jacket. He leans forward to pull you in. Something about it was just natural, you knew he’d protect you, you knew that now.
“Thank you so much. I’d be dead.”
“Of course,” He pets your hair, resting his chin on the top of your head.
“T-thank you for caring.” He pulls back to look you in the eyes.
“I checked your record, no priors since you left. Thank you for being worth it.” He smiles.
The two of you sit there for a minute, staring at each other, his hand still the (good) side of your head. You’d never really had a dad moment like this, but if this was the first and last dad moment you ever had, you were ok with it. It was perfect. He stands up, stretching out his back as if he’s about to leave. But instead, he pulls up a chair.
“You don’t mind if I stick around till your aunt arrives do you?”
You gently shook your head. Truth was, you were too afraid to ask him to do so, but of course, somehow, he knew what you needed. So there the two of you sat. Talking about the extremely normal things you had been involved in back in Minnesota. You swear he kept a small smile on his face the entire time. Just happy to see you moving on. It was done.
When you turned 18, you reached out the Antonio again and asked if he would be willing to meet up for lunch, now that it was “legal” to do so. And now it has become an annual event with occasional bonus trips when you somehow wind up in the Windy City. Your lives may have grown apart in distance but something would always keep the two of you together. He’d always be there for you, and you needed that. Maybe not everyone needs a perfect father figure to survive in the world, but knowing a tough boxing detective would be by your side in one phone call gave you the freedom of safety. Your aunt is an amazing woman, but Antonio Dawson is really the one who you owe everything to.
He promised, you trusted, and it was the first decision of your life that truly mattered.
A/N: I know my presence on this account is sporadic, but I hope some people enjoy this. I’m going to dive into my drafts to work on some of the partially written responses I have for some old requests. (:
Wow, I just got the notification that this page is 4 years old today. Thanks for everyone’s support and continuing interest in my stories! Means a lot to me. :)
Note: Reader is somewhere between 14-17 years old, therefore this is not a romantic paring fic of any kind. More like a Fatherfigure!Antonio x teen!Reader fic.
Antonio sits you down in the Intelligence break room. Your hands fidget nervously. You replay your carefully detailed script in your head.
“Y/N, why are you here?” He asks, handing you a coffee cup that most likely contained hot chocolate knowing Antonio’s Dad-like instincts.
“I can’t be a CI anymore.” You reply fiddling with the coffee cup in your hand.
His eyebrow scrunch as he thinks of a reply.
“Y/N, are you in danger?” He asks calmly and quietly.
You shake your head.
“I’m leaving Chicago.” You reply calmly.
“With your Dad?”
You hate to even think of him.
“Yeah, sorta last minute...” you chuckle, attempting to shrug it off.
“Is your Dad in danger?” Antonio asks.
The detective onto your little act. He knows something is wrong.
“No, I just want out alright?” You snap.
Crap. That was an obvious giveaway something is amidst.
Antonio crouches in front of your chair. He just sits there for a few moments before speaking.
“Y/N, I can help you, but you gotta let me in.”
The guy who saved your life more than once was begging to save it again.
“It’s nothing, I just want out.”
“Y/N, you’re good, but you’re not that good. Please kiddo.”
You take a breath. He’s right. He knows something is wrong now and he’ll keep bugging you till you give in.
“I... I can’t be around here anymore...” You looks at your lap.
“Are you in danger?” He repeats his earlier question.
“Eh...”
“What does eh mean? Huh?” He starts to raise his voice a bit.
You shrug.
“Can I please leave?”
“Not yet.” He answers.
He stands back up and paces the room, watching you. Your gaze remains fixed on your lap. As he walks behind you, you hear a loud thud, making you jump out of your skin, dropping your drink spilling some on your hands.
Antonio rounds back around and hands you some napkins from the table, helping you wipe off the hot liquid on your hands.
You’re almost completely finished cleaning up the mess when Antonio speaks again.
“Your Dad?” He asks calmly yet rigidly.
You look at him in confusion mixed with awe.
“What are you even...”
“When I dropped that book, you jumped,” he points behind you, “Kid, please.”
You shake your head looking away.
“I can get you out of there. You just need to say it.”
That’s it, you can’t take it anymore.
“I just want it to stop.”
“You want what to stop?”
You pull up the beanie you had been wearing to reveal a large bruise on your temple.
You see Antonio wince as he looks it over.
“Kiddo...” he sighs.
“It’s only happened a few times. I just can’t take it anymore.”
“It hurts I know...” he continues for you.
Tears are now welling in your eyes as you shake your head. “Not this!” You point to your bruise, “the words. I-I can’t take it anymore. I don’t care if I’m useless, worthless, a waste of space or a mistake. I already know. I don’t wanna hear it every time I walk in the door. Every time i sit down for a meal THAT I MADE. Every time I clean up his beer bottles and tell his buddies he’s out when he’s trying to come up with the cash for last night’s poker game. I’m done. I want out.”
You can’t even see the Detective anymore due to the tears clouding your vision. You feel Antonio bring you into a hug. You hear him shush you. He feels safe. Unlike your father, he is safe.
That’s why you trusted him in the first place when he was looking for undetected eyes on your block. He sticks to his word, he protects you and he has your best interest in mind. You can just tell.
After a bit he pulls away and starts to wipe the tears from your cheeks.
“I promise you kid. You’ll never go back there. You’re safe now.”
What he said after that were the exact words he said to you when you agreed to be his CI long ago.
“I promise, you trust. It’ll all work out. I’ll keep up my end of the deal until the day I die.”
Hi. Sorry to bother, but could you do one in CPD 2x13 where Gabby is in the elevator and that man (I can't remember his name) drops the lighter 'cause Antonio shoots him, but instead of Gabby the reader and just real fluff? Thank you!
Hey!! Sorry this took practically forever. I hope you enjoy it!!
This was it.
You were about to die.
It felt like every system in your body was vibrating.
Just your luck, the last face you would ever see
It felt like every system in your body was vibrating.
Just your luck, the last face you would ever see is the face of that devilish weasel Adrian Gish.
The fumes of the gasoline made your head spin, but you fought for control. Your life depended on it.
“Like a Phoenix, I will be reborn from the ashes,” he recited, seemingly euphoric in his likely final words.
The panic that was instilled in you mixed with fear and trembling. It felt like your heart would give out from exhaustion before he could even kill you. It was uncertain whether you’d drop unconscious of panic or of the sickening fumes first.
He killed Shay, now he would kill you. You desperately wracked your brain for a happy memory with Antonio to keep you calm.
His birthday...
Your birthday...
The night under the umbrella...
The night he proposed.
What happened next was a blur. You saw Gish look up and heard a gunshot slice through the air. Your hands automatically reached out to catch the lighter. In the haze of confusion your subconscious protected you and caught the lighter and slammed it shut.
“Y/N!” A voice shouted.
“I’m ok...” you responded weakly, as you slumped against the wall of the elevator. The fumes were overwhelming.
“I’m coming to get you!” The familiar voice informed, though you still couldn’t place who it was.
Your eyes floated shut as you watched the gruesome sight of Gish’s blood cascading onto the elevator floor.
The world became hazy as the pungent cooper scent of blood mixed with the overwhelming toxic fumes. The doors opened and the first thing that registers in your mind is Antonio’s concerned face.
That’s the voice you heard. It was Antonio.
“Onio...” is the best you can muster up after nearly suffocating.
He protectively pulls you into his arms and out of the elevator.
You cough “oh god...” recollecting what just happened.
“You ok?” He asks, voice breaking.
You nod, holding the lighter in your shaky hand against his chest.
His hand reaches up for your cheek as he checks you over.
Voight steps in behind Antonio, blocking the view of the grisly elevator scene.
“You need a hospital Y/N?” Voight asks, still looking at the scene.
You shake your head no despite its relentless throbbing.
Antonio looks skeptically back at Voight who just shrugs.
“She says she doesn’t need it, she doesn’t need it. Now you guys get out of here, I’ll call it in. We can get Y/N’s statement later.”
Antonio lead you outside into the chilled air. You inhale as deep as you can, but very little actually manages to make it into your lungs, causing you to cough.
Antonio was saying something as he was cut off by your coughing fit. He grasps your upper arm to keep you steady.
“You sure you don’t...” he starts, but quickly you cut him off.
“Yes! I’m sure,” Your anxious nerves are getting ahold of your body. You couldn’t stop shaking.
“I wanna go home.” You plead with your fiancé as you get to your car that you drove here. Antonio sighs, obviously wanting to take you to the hospital. Eventually he shakes his head in defeat, “ok but I’m driving.”
“Your place or my place?” He asks.
“Mine.” You reply. He nods playing attention to the road.
It doesn’t matter where you look, the floor, the window, Antonio, you see Gish in front of you holding the lighter, smiling.
You reach out for Antonio and grab his one hand resting on his lap.
He looks at you concerned, you just look at his hand. Gently, he squeezes back, “it’s ok sweetheart, I got you.”
When you arrived at your place, he held onto you to provide stability walking up the stairs.
“Babe, I’m fine,” you scowl.
He lets go as you bounce up the stairs. You feel odd, terrified one moment, happy and carefree the next.
Suddenly, as you get to your door, you have a coughing fit that lasts at least thirty seconds.
The moment the door was open, Antonio had you on the couch resting.
“Antonio, I feel f-fine,” you stutter as a burst of energy rolls through you. You start to shake and become terrified, looking to Antonio for answers.
“It’s the adrenaline, it’s gonna wear off, and that won’t be true anymore,” he says as he tucks a blanket around you.
You nod, letting the nervous energy rattle through your body and Antonio is off in your kitchen doing something.
He comes back with a cup of tea for you. He begins to slip your shoes off.
“Ant...”
“It’s gonna wear off suddenly. Just let me take care of you.”
You nod, still shaking with artificial energy.
He finishes taking off your shoes and follows it with your coat. He props pillows behind your head and brings the tea to your lips himself.
You let him to this because you know it makes him feel better.
You cough again. Your coughing is sped up. It hurts, likely from the shaking of your system counteracting with the coughs.
After you finish, he leans over you,
“take some deep breaths, slowly.”
You try, but end up coughing. He shushes you and encourages you to try again. You try three more times and finally get a deep long breath of clean cool and comforting air.
You smile feeling the air reach your lungs. You start to take more deep breaths but suddenly you feel your body quickly power down.
Antonio notices you begin to hyperventilate.
“Shh shh... it’s ok. It’s the adrenaline wearing off. Just relax. I’ll be right here. Deep breaths,” he rubs your shoulders and caresses your face.
“I can’t sleep Antonio. I see him.”
Antonio grabs your hands.
“He can’t get you. He’s gone forever. For good. You are safe. We’re safe. You need to rest. You trust me?” He asks.
You nod.
“Sleep.”
You feel yourself ease back a bit. Sleep felt really good right now. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt Antonio hold your hands.
As you come to, you realize you are in your bed wearing much more comfortable clothes.
Antonio is sleeping next to you. You glance at the clock.
2:43 AM
Oof.
You stand up to get a glass of water. You feel wobbly, but you manage to make it there without any stumbles. Your throat is dry and raspy. You know there is no way you could talk. You pour your water as you recount the day’s events.
Text
Car
Elevator
Gish
Lighter
Choking
Antonio
Hug
Shoes
Sleep.
Text
Car
Elevator
Gish
Lighter
Choke
Antonio
Hug
Car
Elevator
Gish
Lighter
Antonio
Elevator
Gish
Lighter
What was after that?
Your emotions take over and you start to sob. You continue softly, hoping Antonio won’t heard you.
The lights in the kitchen turn in startling you.
“Woah there. Sorry,” Antonio says. His face quickly drops into a frown of concern.
“Babe...”
You lose it.
“I-I I’m sorry Tonio. I-I, it was...”
He quickly wraps you in his arms.
“Shh shh shh. It was so scary. I know. You didn’t deserve that. I love you so much. I love you y/n.”
You sigh as you hug back tightly.
“You’re safe. It’s gonna take time. But I’m here and you’ll be safe.” He kisses your forehead. “Can I take you back to bed and hold you? Would you like that?”
You nod wordlessly, still tired. He wraps his arms around your waist and your legs and carries you back to bed.
Gish was gone. You were safe. Antonio was here. The rest of the story was predictable.
dededos
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