Pairing: Duncan Idaho x F!Reader
Words: 3k
Warnings: smut. probably ooc vibes bc ive only seen the film. angst. forbidden romance. hair pulling. hallway sex. possessive rough sex. jealousy.
Summary: He can’t stay away just as you can’t look at anyone else.
A/N: title from Fleetwood Mac's Dreams obvi.
Duncan manages to be reserved and rugged and wild all at once. He is the embodiment of duty. He is a stretch of lightning that has been bottled up and brought to heel.
“House Atreides is all you serve,” you bite out as he presses himself against you. His breath fans your cheek - his lips ghosting the skin of your temple. You can feel his grin.
“I serve you,” he argues.
“Because I’m part of the great Atreides machine.”
He chuckles in that low way he has. It rumbles through his chest and creeps between your legs. Your fingers catch in his nightshirt. “No,” He’s adamant. “Because it’s you.”
They have so few nights together. Clandestine meetings in empty hallways. Trysts. He goes out of his way to sit across from you at state dinners. His boots knock against your toes. His eyes trace your face and there is the tinkle and spark of cutlery on plates and someone asks him to relay his tales of all the battles he’s won. He’s unstoppable. A legend. His skin shimmers like sun-drenched sand and there’s the tiniest flecks of gold in the dark hair that is pulled away from his handsome face. He grins at you among the flicker of candlelight and stone and you feel it in your stomach. Knotted. Weighted. It hurts.
He’s fucking the Duke’s ward and it is probably the only disloyal thing Duncan has ever done against Leto.
He can’t stay away just as you can’t look at anyone else.
***
“Do you think he’ll marry me off?” you ask him while he’s still inside you. Your breath is hitched and your stomach is in your throat. His strokes are long and slow and inexorable. He can fuck you like this for hours - patient and deliberate as if he is savoring each part of you. Duncan is so big - everywhere - that sometimes you think he’ll keep going until he hits your heart. It stings and it’s perfect.
He stills - his body going rigid. His brow furrows and his expression twists into incredulous. The shadows of Caladan’s moon slip over your bed and force Duncan’s features into sharp relief. “What?”
His tone is blunt and almost angry, which is exactly what you wanted.
“Leto,” you murmur as you dig your knees into his waist - as you clench around him - making him twitch and slide further into you. “He might marry me off to strengthen the alliance.”
His jaw ticks. His nostrils flare. Something ugly and coarse sounds from his chest. He plants his knees and hitches one of your legs over his shoulder. “Duncan…” you start - suddenly thinking that maybe that had been in poor taste. But the apology is crushed and forgotten when he draws his hips back and then slams forward.
“Do you think I would let him?” he grunts as he fucks you into your mattress. You can’t anchor yourself. You scramble to hold onto your headboard - fist your sheets. There’s no use so you grab at his broad shoulders - his back - scrape your nails down his spine. He is unforgiving - the very flash of who Idaho is burns through him as he thrusts into you again and again. No respite. No gentleness. His hands catch in your hair and he presses you deeper into the bed - pinning you in place - biting your lower lip and sucking at your neck - your tongue - whispering things to you that make you shudder: I would never let another man touch you - I would kill them - You’re mine - this is mine - why do you like to taunt me like this - do you enjoy it - do you want to drive me insane enough to fuck you until you can’t speak - walk - my love - tell me
You break apart - squeezing him impossibly tight as he bites into the sweat-slick flesh where your neck meets your shoulder. He follows you not long after - hips stuttering between your spread thighs. You’re stretched around him and everything is wet. His pace loses all of its easy grace as he grinds to the hilt, filling you with hot lashes of seed. When he eases out, you can feel it on your cunt - warm and sticky. You’re empty. You miss the heft of him inside you. Duncan sits back to stare at what’s he’s done - his lips quirking smugly before he uses two of his thick fingers and plugs it back into your sex - marking you - branding you -
It's too erotic and intimate at once.
No words are shared between you aside from both of your strained breathing. You can hear the trickle of water from the fountain beyond your window. The wind pulses through leaves and grass. Dawn is intruding. The pink-purple threat of it drips over the line of his shoulders. There is the scent of incoming rain. The brine of the sea riding the air and you wonder when he will leave again. Not soon. Please not soon.
“You’re a demon,” he finally declares - scrubbing a hand over his face as if he is just waking up - as if he had momentarily lost himself.
You reach down - pressing between your legs where everything is sore and achy and feverish and his eyes follow - his gaze heavy and hungry and darkening with each swipe of your fingers.
“I suppose you’re right,” Your lips curl. “No one else can do what you do.”
He groans. “You’re terrible.”
After a beat, he reaches for your ankle and tugs it over his thigh. He needs something to do. He’s never just still - just willing to float and relax. It’s symbolic of your relationship. He goes and goes and you wait for him. Frozen in time. His thumb digs into the bones of your foot as he circles the soft flesh. He could break it easily if he wanted. He could break you and you’d still wait for him.
“I am, but your humble servant.”
He laughs and it’s bright in the dim blue light of your bedroom. It bounces and rolls off the marble and stone. It echoes inside the clutch of your ribs. It’s so gorgeous that it nearly makes you cry. “You and I both know that you’re no one’s servant.”
“I’m Leto’s.”
“You’re not. He’s far too soft on you.”
“I am,” you hiss as your head falls back into your pillow. Your stomach rolls and there’s a sharp soreness between your legs that you want Duncan to remedy by touch. “He’s going to turn me into a breeding sow or something equally dehumanizing.”
You feel Duncan’s caress pause on your ankle. The humor in the room vanishes with a cold suck. You glance at him and there’s an unreadable expression on his face. The shadows don’t give him all away, but you’re certain you see his jaw flex and his lips peel back to bare his white teeth. A flicker of disgust - regret. “That won’t happen.”
“You can’t stop it.”
For House Atreides - marriage is about alliances. It is about burrowing their family lines throughout the various pathways of the galaxy. You are not Leto’s by blood, but you have been raised as his own and that still counts. He didn’t even marry Lady Jessica.
It's not about love.
Duncan studies your foot in his hands - his calloused fingers slipping over your skin. “Don’t say that.”
The temperature of this interaction has gone dark. You hadn’t meant for that to happen. You were simply stressed - panicked and flustered that you would lose him. Every time that you have Duncan - every time that he comes to your bed - you fear the day that he won’t.
You need to change course and so you sit up and crawl over to him. You wrap your arms around his muscular shoulders and press your mouth to his throat. Your touch dances over his battle scars - the knots of flesh and tissue from blades and projectiles and whatever hideous things he’s fought throughout his life.
“I’m sorry,” you say and he lifts his hand to clutch your wrist. He seals it against his chest and sighs. You kiss his cheek before carefully turning his face to yours. He is so close. He is right here. “Duncan?” you exhale over his mouth.
“Hmm?”
“Would you still want me if I was Harkonnen?”
His eyes widen in surprise and you grin - pleased that you’ve shocked him. He tries to suppress a chuckle, shaking his head.
“Would be a little challenging.”
You are already forbidden.
“That’s not an answer,” you point out as you chew your lip. “What if I had no arms?”
He groans - squeezing your wrist harshly in reproach. He grumbles about how difficult you are as he pushes you backward. He sinks his tongue inside you to shut you up.
***
You hate the thought of Arrakis. You want to revolt. You’ll dry up there with the harsh sun, the smoke trees, the palms, and saguaro. Paul told you about the sandworms - enormous and horrific. They’ll swallow you all. They’ll swallow Duncan.
Idaho is always gone - accepting whatever stupid mission Leto has forced him to accomplish in order to prepare for your arrival. Of course, you learn that he adapts and befriends because that is simply who he is. His loyalty shines strongly enough that even the Fremen find him impossible to resist.
“He works you too hard.”
“It’s my duty. I know it’s difficult for you to understand since you are the most stubborn woman alive.”
The both of you fight until it burns out - quiet arguments hidden in deserted passageways of the castle.
I don’t want to go. It feels strange. The Harkonnens have poisoned it.
There’s nothing you can do. You can’t just stay on Caladan.
You storm off to your room and he inevitably follows.
***
It is miserable. Unbearable. The dust bites at your skin and coats you in a thin film that you cannot seem to wash away. The Harkonnens left their stink on the fortress and it unnerves you.
It doesn’t help that Paul had confided in you about his dreams of late.
When Duncan arrives at Arrakeen, he tells you and the others how close it was - how he had tasted death. He’s laughing. He finds it funny. You can’t control yourself - don’t have the strength to hide your horrified expression. He pauses in his tale - his brow creasing.
“What?” He reaches for you and you jerk away from him. “What is it?”
It’s all very public. Paul sees. Gurney sees. Your face crumples and tears spring from your eyes and you run from him.
You are not like Paul. You don’t know or see things before they happen. But you feel it. You can sense something vibrating in this fortress. It rumbles under your feet. You cannot get a full breath in. Your heartbeat is too fast.
Something is wrong.
You run and run and of course he catches you - his hands in your dress as he hauls you to him. He lifts you as he would a doll before he buries you into the wall with the length of his body.
“Stop” you beg - shoving at him. It’s like knocking your fists against a stone door. “Stop. I can’t do this.”
You think that if he takes you again, you’ll actually go mad. He is screaming death - it permeates his clothes and skin. You don’t want to lose him. He’s been yours for years. He’s only been yours. He is the one thing that you have.
He grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. He is so beautiful that it hurts. You’re going to lose him. His eyes bleed umber - his long hair is pulled back - his beard cut along his jaw. There’s a bit of sand on his chin. “What are you doing?”
“If you die,” you whimper. “I’ll never- I won’t survive it.”
He searches your face - bewildered. Finally, he sighs with the same sort of tone Leto would use on you as a girl. A petulant child. You should understand this. He’s a warrior. He is always touching death. He is always seconds away - an inch or mile.
He palms your cheek before gripping the hinge of your jaw and crushing his mouth to yours. His tongue slides between your lips. You can feel how hard he is against your stomach. He is thick with muscle and hot-blood and he’s been in the desert for weeks. He only wants you - the comfort of you - the familiarity of their bond.
He pulls back just enough to speak - his breath on your breath. His heart thumps strongly against your palm and you long to capture the beat of it. You could collect it and save it for him and use it if he fell. “If I die, you won’t. I forbid it.”
“You won’t be here to stop me.”
His gaze narrows. “No.”
You open your mouth again -
and choke on your words -
His hand has found its way between your legs - his thumb circling the peak of your sex underneath all your wispy fabric. He pushes his fingers into you - curling and scissoring as he deliberately drives you to a quick climax.
I want to save you.
You’re not Paul. You have no gifts beyond the face that seduced the great Duncan Idaho.
He leans forward - mouth brushing over yours.
“Is it because of what your brother said?”
Her baby brother. No blood between them. Sometimes you call Leto father because he is in all the ways he’s tried.
Duncan had been young when he had first seen you.
You were soft and sweet in that garden outside the Duke’s room. I never forgot. I always tried to make excuses to speak to him so I could catch a glimpse. You were so shy.
His fingers are gone and there is the blunt heavy pressure of his cock sinking into you - breaching slowly with all the warrior-patience Duncan possesses. He’s carrying you - anchoring you to the wall. You wrap your legs around his waist. Open up for me. You stroke the wrinkles around his eyes - his brow. Laughter lines. He was always laughing.
“Tell me,” he pleads in a way that sparks like an order. His cock is sheathed to the hilt - shallowly dipping in and out. His fingers on his other hand continue to trace the shape of your cunt. He knows your body too well. There will never be anyone else for you.
“Paul saw it,” you whisper - grief curling around your insides. “Paul sees everything. He knows.”
“He doesn’t,” Duncan snaps. His thumb digs into your jaw - his expression pained and somewhat frantic as you crumble in his arms. He wants you to believe him. “I’m not leaving you.”
“You can’t promise me that.”
“I can try.”
***
Leto had tried to match you with a suitor once. A son from House Corrino. Their grip on power had been waning steadily - leaking out.
There’d been a party - a dance. Jessica had made sure the palace was lit up. The very ceiling of the great room had been hung with tiny lights and blue draping to mimic the very image of the galaxy. The starks winking and trembling with the swell of the music.
Duncan had seethed in the corner. The man famous for his charm and his carefree spirit was consumed with such a rage that everyone noticed. Gurney had to speak with him. You danced and spun and laughed while he sulked. You’d been at that age where you only wanted to needle Duncan in order to make him possess you.
By the end of the night, he had finally caught hold of your wrist and dragged you down the hall. He shoved you into his quiet bare room and then thoroughly fucked you until you could say nothing but his name.
“Do you remember that man? Luther?”
“Don’t remind me.”
“You’re very sensitive.”
“Only when it comes to you.”
You had loved the taste of his anger and his jealousy. It had been a time where he didn’t know if you were his and you had played upon that knowledge. He couldn’t claim you as he does presently.
Now - you both don’t care enough to be anyone else’s.
Now, you despise Leto’s strategies after realizing what you could lose. Leto’s machinations were only entertaining when it wasn’t you on the board.
***
“Should I ask him for your hand, then?”
You’re lying on his chest - your ear firmly glued to the press of his heart. The heavy and relaxed thump thump thump like music. You sit up to stare at him. He’s naked - warm and at ease with his hair spilling over your pillow. It’s a rare state for him.
When you say nothing, he cocks his head slightly. He’s so enormous that he takes up most of your bed. The corner of his mouth twitches as he regards you with a mellow amusement.
“Do you think he’d say yes?” you finally reply.
He closes his eyes and shrugs. “No.”
Would it matter? Couldn’t we just refuse him?
“Perhaps - I will just never marry,” You trace your name across his olive skin. He shudders before snatching your hand and placing it against his mouth. He doesn’t kiss it, but caresses it with his lips. You inhale sharply - suddenly dizzy with him.
“Perhaps - we can wed in secret,” he hums - his lashes dark and long against his cheek. His lids still firmly shut and you wonder if he's gone somewhere in his head. “I’ll simply kill any other suitors he puts in front of you.”
“That would go well.”
He opens one eye to peek at you. “I’ll do it quietly. He’ll never know it was me.”
“Yes, he will,” you protest. “You’re his greatest soldier.”
“Then I’ll make it sloppy.”
You laugh and it tumbles out of your throat - bouncing against his firm chest. He flashes a grin and you finally understand that that had been his intention all along. He wants you to be happy. You hadn’t smiled here - in this wasteland. Not until now.
He slips his knuckles over your cheek. His expression is docile and pleased and you don't grasp how he can be so reverent and gentle when he has killed hundreds of men. You’ve heard the stories. You’ve seen him train.
You watch each other in silence - unknowingly memorizing the other's face. The silence itself is rare. Usually, you’re always lashing out and he is always keeping the balance - protecting you and soothing you until your nerves dim.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
You should tell him that.
You hear a noise outside, but Duncan doesn’t seem to notice. There’s a thump and then a buzz of commotion before it fades to nothing. Perhaps, someone fell.
You bite your lip - strangely nervous. He sinks the tip of his thumb into the soft flesh to stop you. The unsaid don’t in his pointed stare. A wave of uncertainty churns in your belly. You lean into his hand.
serial killers are a big problem for you and dewey, another problem? innate and self-consuming jealousy toward one gale weathers who happens to be flirting with your boyfriend.
anxiety, mentions of murder, dewey gets stabbed
4k words
the jealousy comes in literally halfway through (i'm pretty sure its at like word 2.2k) because i never shut up!
Perhaps it was a stupid insecurity, to wonder if you were good enough for the person that you had been dating for the better part of seven years. Despite the fact that he had, on numerous occasions, expressed the same insecurity he felt to you. But occasionally, despite living with his family and basically being accepted by everyone as his partner, you couldn’t help but worry that you weren’t good enough to be with someone like Dewey.
He was just so sweet and kind, a little ditzy sometimes but that only added to his charm. Tatum had constantly scoffed at your insecurities, reminding you that she believed you were way out of her brother’s league and not the other way around. But you had both made peace with the mutual fear, because it meant that after seven years of being together you still wanted nothing more than to remain together. Even while you left for medical school and he left to train to be a police officer, you still called each other every night and made an effort to visit on weekends. Now, while you were training to be a nurse and he was getting comfortable in his role at the police station, you were closer than ever.
Most of the time, you would help him solve crimes or figure out answers that he wouldn’t have otherwise gotten. Dewey would often help you by coming in injured, giving you someone to patch up when there was a slow day. It wasn’t that he tried to injure himself so you had something to do, it just sort of worked out that way.
Things changed last night, when Casey Becker’s dead body was found. When it became clear that this was probably not a one time occurrence. Dewey was ushering Tatum and Sidney around for their own protection, but for the first time, was doing his best to keep you completely uninvolved - much to your chagrin.
As you found yourself walking toward the door, keys in hand as you adjusted your scrubs, you felt a hand grip your wrist. You turned around, facing Dewey with a raised eyebrow.
“What if you didn’t go today. It’s just… it’s dangerous. And you’re going to be coming back at three! That’s a dangerous time..” He said, eyeing the window as the sun went down. He had been rather paranoid about your safety, beyond concerned that something terrible was going to happen to you while you weren’t around him.
“Dewey, I can’t call out of work because someone died. I work around dead people all the time.” You said, but a sigh escaped your lips. He was only trying to be thoughtful, he wanted you to stay as safe as possible and you knew that. You reached out and placed your hand on his cheek. “I’ll be okay, promise.”
“At least let me drive you.” As Dewey spoke, like clockwork, the radio on the side table went off. He was needed down at the station, for what, you weren’t sure.
“Drop me off on the way?” The hospital was on the way to the police station, so it wouldn’t make sense for him not to drive you. Plus, you were happy to spend a little extra time with him, even if you were about to have the next week off. Coincidentally, your week off happened to line up with when Dewey wanted you to be home - today was just going to be the one, unfortunate, day when Dewey was going to need to be worried for you.
“Sounds great.” A smile covered his lips as he grabbed his radio, telling the other officer’s that he would be at the station shortly, and walking out to the car with you. Clearly, he was being urgent since he was on the clock and needed to get to his job. The moment you were buckled in he was zooming down the road, which was predominately empty (which made sense, considering how few people probably wanted to go out on account of the murder).
He was at the hospital rather shortly, and though you didn’t have much time to say goodbye since you both needed to get to work, you still leaned over to press a kiss to his lips. Dewey seemed a lot more visibly nervous than you were, but he also seemed more nervous than you were in general.
“I’ll call you when I get off of work, okay?” He asked, before realizing that you had opted to leave your car at home. “I’ll be back for you tonight.”
You nodded, though you couldn’t help the slightly sly smile that crossed your lips. “This was your plan all along, making it so you could pick me up?”
“Yes, definitely. I definitely planned this.” He nodded, though his lie was just God awful. “Makes me feel like you’re safer.” That part was definitely true, but he had definitely not thought out the fact that he was going to have to come back and pick you up. Though, it seemed like he wished he did so he could take credit for it.
With one last chaste kiss, you were rushing into the building so you didn’t clock in late and Dewey was rushing down the road. Of course, he hadn’t actually told anyone that he was going to take you to work, so you were sure they were all wondering where he was by now.
The shift only seemed to drag on until you got to your midnight break, which, technically, you were dreading. You didn’t want to go sit in the breakroom alone in the middle of the night, even sitting in the reception area would be more ideal because there were secretaries and security officers. The break room was a free-for-all, what if the killer did come for you? You did know Sidney, after all, she was best friends with your boyfriend’s sister so you’d met and spoken to her on numerous occasions.
Though you couldn’t fight the sick feeling in your gut, when you were called to the phone to answer a call from Dewey, you remembered that you didn’t have to spend your break alone.
“Hey, what did you get called in for?” You asked him, resting the phone under your ear. Everyone was used to Dewey calling you during your break, so it didn’t really feel weird talking to him on the phone in front of other people.
“Oh, I’ll tell you about it when you get home. Sidney’s staying with us.” He said, but it seemed like the moment he spoke he changed his mind. Dewey went into detail explaining what had happened and why he had been called down to the station. It seemed like whoever was messing with Sidney was just getting worse, rather than better. While you were definitely worried for her safety, you couldn’t lie - your main concern was that this put Dewey in the direct line of danger. It was bad enough that he was in danger at work every day, you couldn’t stomach the idea of anything happening to him.
“I mean this lovingly, but please don’t make a visit to my job any time soon.” You said, relaxing a bit at the sound of him laughing on the other end of the line. Of course Dewey was tense, but he was still himself - that was something of a relief, that you had one certain thing even in a time of uncertainty.
“I hope I won’t have to.” Despite the laugh, he was still a bit solemn. “I’m worried about Tatum, I think they could come for her next.” Dewey’s voice was low, probably because Tatum was in the house with him, but it broke your heart to hear that - especially since he was right.
“I know how much you care about her, I do too. Just… stay positive about this whole thing, that’s the only thing we can do.” You said, pausing when you heard a yawn on the other end. “Have you slept?”
“Well… no. Not technically. Or- Not at all. No, I haven’t slept yet.” He said, “I was just going to wait until after I pick you up.” He added on, and you could tell there was a little bit of embarrassment in his tone. You understood why he hadn’t slept, considering that he had just been going out for the call when you left for work, but that didn’t change the fact that you wanted him to get some sleep.
“Just go to sleep for a few hours, I’ll be okay.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Alright, okay. I’ll see you in three hours. I love you.”
“I love you too.” As you heard him hang up the phone, you handed it back to the secretary at the desk. You could tell she wanted to ask questions, that she knew you had to know something about the murder and could share with her what you knew. But she kept it to herself, which was better than how most people acted until your shift ended. Many people outright asked for information, even though you really didn’t have much insider information. Nobody knew who killed Casey, there were suspects sure but it wasn’t like you were going to go rattling off information about an active investigation.
By the time your shift was over you were thoroughly exhausted, and, for the first time, glad to need to walk through the herd of first shift people coming in. Typically, you hated it. It felt like walking through a mall on black friday, everyone either coming in or leaving at the same time. But to have so many people with you, when you admittedly were a little nervous to be alone, was a relief. As you said goodnight to a few co-workers, you smiled at the sight of Dewey - front seat in your car, trying to stay awake at the wheel. As you got in, you couldn’t pretend that you didn’t nervously check your surroundings to make sure that there was nobody lurking in the shadows.
“Hey,” You said, bringing him back to reality as you buckled the seatbelt. He quickly started up the car and pulled out, seemingly wanting nothing more than to get back to bed. It felt like you were both back in bed in less than twenty minutes, which had to be a record for you, but it didn’t come without a thorough search of the house to make sure there was nothing out of the ordinary going on.
By the time you were in bed, you could feel your exhaustion overtaking you as you struggled to keep your eyes open while you waited for Dewey to join you in bed. Once he did, and you were situated against him, you allowed your eyes to close. Despite your exhaustion, you couldn’t help but worry about what the next day would bring.
“Can you promise you won’t get involved in whatever goes down tomorrow?” Dewey asked, sleep laced in his voice, as he let his own eyes closed.
“You know I can’t promise that, just like you can’t promise to stay safe.” You answered, but you understood why he was so worried. You were worried for him in the same way, worried that this was going to be the last time you saw him, the last time you were able to be in bed with him because something could go terribly wrong.
“Guess we can keep each other safe, then.” He mumbled, seemingly already half asleep. You nodded, a small smile on your lips as you finally faded off to sleep yourself. By the time you woke, Dewey had already left for work, though you did notice a small paper on the table beside you.
As you squinted your sleep filled eyes to read what he wrote, you took in the knowledge that he would call home if anything extreme came up. That he knew you weren’t going to let him off the hook so easily, and that he wouldn’t try to keep you fully out of what was going on. It made you happy to know that even though he really didn’t want you involved in the case, and you really shouldn’t be since you were just a civilian, he understood that you wouldn’t be able to feel safe if you didn’t know he was. Plus, he did make it pretty clear he felt more comfortable if you were with him.
The rest of the day was rather uneventful. You spent much of it sitting around waiting for Dewey to call and talking to his mom. His mom insisted that it was ridiculous he hadn’t proposed yet, considering how long the two of you had been together. It always got you thinking, every time she mentioned him proposing. It wasn’t like you two hadn’t discussed it, you had. You’d both talked about marriage and buying a house together quite a few times, but you were both just starting your jobs so it just didn’t feel right to do it until you were secure. Though, most of the financial planning tended to come from you, and what you knew about the home market, and less from Dewey.
Regardless, he never did call. He ended up finishing his shift and coming home, but as it would turn out, his shift wasn’t really over. He explained that school had been let out, that there were a lot of developments and that he probably wasn’t going to be home for long. He also explained that you would come with him, which was the main reason he came home. Unsurprisingly to him, he was called back less than ten minutes after he had left.
Despite the murder in the air, and danger all around them, the students of Woodsboro were throwing a party. “So… this isn’t gonna turn into some kind of murder party, is it?”
Dewey raised his eyebrows as he looked over at you, “I hope not?” He offered, but you could tell by the expression on his face that he couldn’t promise that it wouldn’t be. Sure, he could be going there to enforce some sort of curfew or keep the children safe but, chances were, he needed to go there to keep them safe from being brutally murdered.
“Right. Well. I know you get injured all the time so maybe don’t do that, if there’s a murderer.” You said, reaching a hand over to bring his into yours. You could tell he was either nervous or excited from how his hand shook in yours, which did nothing to help your nerves.
“How are you not scared?” He asked, changing the subject a bit but taking note of your mainly calm demeanor. It was clear he wasn’t disturbed or creeped out by how calm you were, just genuinely confused.
“I am, I just… it’s better if I don’t show it.” You never liked showing if you were scared, it felt embarrassing. Maybe if something happened to Dewey, then you would show it. But the only other time you ever really made it clear that you were afraid was when you were afraid of your own insecurities.
“We’ll be okay, I think.” He said, though he wasn’t completely assured. As he arrived at the house, he let go of your hand for just a moment as you both got out of the car. You were quickly met by Gale Weathers, you recognized her from the news - you were pretty sure that bruise on her face was courtesy of Sidney.
That was all well and good, you didn’t know why she was there but you didn’t mind that she was. What you did mind, however, was that you were one hundred percent sure that she was flirting with your boyfriend. Just about everyone who knew Dewey knew you were in a relationship, in fact, you were pretty sure that everyone who knew him knew. It was clear this wasn’t their first meeting, and even as he stood next to you, and you were facing some pretty serious issues involving murder, you couldn’t help the way that the insecurities creeped back into your mind.
Maybe he would be better with someone like Gale, she probably made more money than you did, probably would get him higher in the police station than he was. Maybe he would be happier. As you stood around quietly, you didn’t notice they were about to go into the house until you felt Dewey place a hand on your shoulder.
“You alright?” He asked, clearly concerned. But you only waved it off, giving him an unconvincing nod as you pushed past them both and approached the house. You let Dewey, slightly dejected by your actions, wrap an arm around your shoulder as you both entered the house.
Whatever determination you had to help had slowly withered away, even though you knew it was most probably ridiculous to be jealous of her flirting with him when you had actual crimes to take care of, you couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like there was really time to talk about it. But you couldn’t allow yourself to be cold to Dewey, even if you were jealous. You were both in danger tonight, and you didn’t want his last memory of you or vice versa to be a bad attitude, if worse came to worse.
You brought your hand up to his arm, smiling as he talked to the party guests, including Sidney and Tatum. Sidney didn’t particularly like that he had brought you, either, considering the fact that you weren’t exactly combat ready nor were you an investigator. But Tatum understood, she knew you were attached at the hip.
While you both ended up going back outside, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that Gale was unabashedly flirting with him. Especially considering the fact that she really hadn’t spoken to you whatsoever, though you had completely zoned out when you approached her out of anxiety, so you couldn’t be certain. Regardless, you followed them further into the woods, letting your arm wrap around Dewey’s as you walked with him.
It seemed like nothing was going to happen, besides the fact that another woman was openly flirting with your boyfriend who didn’t even seem like he noticed, nothing was happening. That was, until everything was happening at once. The second screaming was heard in the house you went running, Dewey kept you tightly against him in case you had any run-ins with the killer. But, as it would turn out, that run-in happened a lot sooner than you had anticipated.
As Dewey let out a scream he practically shoved you down a hallway, and while your first reaction was to protect him, the second you heard his body drop all you could do was run. The second you were hidden somewhere semi-secure, at least somewhere the masked man had passed by without noticing you, all you could do was sit and cry until you knew it was safe to return to where you were.
The last moments you had spent with him, you were completely silent and stoic. Not because you were afraid of the killer, not because you had some sort of cryptic or prophetic ‘bad feeling’, but because you were jealous. Jealous that someone else was flirting with him. After a moment, you rushed back down stairs, there was a lot of noise coming from the kitchen, so you were quick to bring Dewey outside.
As you clutched onto him, you started to realize that the shaking of his body wasn’t entirely coming from you. It was him. The breathing was weak and shallow, but he was still breathing. That fear you had, that fear that had been previously replaced with acceptance, was back in full force. If you didn’t know it would draw attention, you would make some sort of noise, but you couldn’t. You had to be as quiet as a mouse, it was the only way to keep him alive until paramedics came - at least, it was your only chance at it. You knew to apply pressure to the knife wound on his back, that it was better to keep it inside until you had something that could close it up or stop the bleeding.
You’d patched up his wounds many times before, you just needed to try and think of this as something not so different, at least, if someone came.
Time seemed to move slower than ever, as it ticked on and on. But the paramedics did come, and as it would turn out, Sidney was alive. You were quick to get Dewey into the ambulance, sitting beside him as you helped the paramedics do their best to dress the wound on the way to the hospital.
“I asked you not to get injured, this time.” You muttered, trying your best to keep yourself together but decidedly failing. The trip to the hospital felt like it took ages itself, and your fellow nurses decided they would take care of Dewey’s injuries for once. Perhaps it was your distraught face, or the fact that your hands actually were shaking in fear now, but they figured it would probably be for the best if you waited.
Wait you did, for a good hour before you were allowed in his hospital room. It was another two hours of you crying in the dim hospital lighting before he finally started to wake up, coming to terms with his surroundings before looking over at you.
“Hey- What- I’m okay, I’m right here.” He said, reaching his hand over to grab onto yours. You had to use every bit of your strength to resist lurching over and hugging him as tightly as you possibly could, since you were sure he was still in some sort of pain from the stabbing.
“God- I was so worried, Dewey. I can’t- I wasn’t even talking when it happened and- I didn’t get to tell you that I loved you, you know? Because I was so jealous and so stupid and-” You cut yourself off, letting the crying just happen at this point, as you felt Dewey reach over slightly to pull your hand into his, you felt him tugging you a bit closer to the bed. You pulled your chair up so you were directly in front of him, wanting nothing more than to be in his arms again.
“Why were you jealous?”
“Gale… she was flirting with you and it was so stupid- I shouldn’t have even been thinking about that while we were there but… I can’t help it. You know… maybe you’d be happier with her…”
Dewey looked absolutely bewildered, more so than he ever did before. “Happier? I’m the happiest man alive when I’m with you.” You felt him running his thumb over your knuckles, trying his best to reassure you. “Plus, you’re probably the only person that will ever get, or deserve, my mom’s blessing.”
You laughed at that, “She does bring up marriage a lot like… a lot. Constantly.” You said, letting the tears subside as you leaned over. It wasn’t the most comfortable way to sit, stretching your neck like a t-rex to try and rest it against him, but you were going to make it work.
“I’m sorry for getting hurt again.” He said, bringing his hand to rest on the back of your neck as he held you closer against him.
“It’s okay, it’s kind of your thing.” You replied, but made sure to add on a “But never scare me like that ever again.” At the end of it.
The truth was that he would scare you like that again, many, many times. But you rested easier knowing that you would never make the mistake of being jealous again, not over Gale or anyone else. You knew that Dewey loved you more than anyone, it wasn’t like he shied away from showing it. While you knew the nurses would need to come in and check on him at some point, it was nice to bask in the feeling of absolute, pure, and unadulterated love - at least for a few minutes.
if i had a nickel for every time i have seen timothy olymphant get shot on screen…i’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s kinda weird that it’s happened twice
A/N: I needed to do this for myself because I HAD to write for my new favorite best boy, Vigilante/ Adrian Chase. He’s been on my mind a LOT lately, so I’m using the prompts from this list here.
➵ “Can I kiss you?”
➵ “You’ve got that look again.” “what look?” “that look when I kiss you. when you get all flustered on me.”
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》MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT《
Pairing: Vigilante x f!Reader -
Rating: Explicit
Length: 5.6k
p a r t 1 | a w a r m w e l c o m e
It had only been a few weeks since you had first entered the Fennel Fields restaurant for a bit of breakfast, and since everything was still new to you, you had to try out all the local digs so you knew where you could frequent later on. Trying out different places to eat was important for you when you were in a new living situation, and so far several people in town had mentioned this place.
‘It’s not exactly a five-star place,’ they’d say, 'but the cook knows what he’s doing and the staff isn’t bad.'
That was all you really needed, honestly, so you decided the day after you settled in, you’d wake up fairly early -for you anyway- and ordered a nice plate of French toast at Fennel Fields.
You had to agree, the waitstaff was nice and the food was pretty decent for the likes of the restaurant, but there was one person on the staff who caught your attention; the busboy.
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