Warnings: gore, killing, fighting, abuse, mentions of being a slave, mentions of being sold, Yandere stuff
I got the idea from Desmond ASMR on YouTube.
Yandere! Gladiator who you didn’t know until he was given to you as a slave for helping the noble counsel and the city with your knowledge of plants and helping them grow faster.
Yandere! Gladiator who hates you from the moment a guard brought him to your tiny apartment and he had to look at your face.
Yandere! Gladiator who pins you to the wall and tells you how easily he could kill you when the guard leaves and you don’t know what to do but you don’t want to use his collar on him.
Yandere! Gladiator who is shocked when you weakly take off the collar off and let you go in shock.
"Why would you do that?" He asked in a shocked voice as he let you go.
"It hurts you right?" You said while grabbing your throat.
"Yes," he said quietly as he tried to wrap his head around the situation. "B..but I don't understand why you would take it off?"
Yandere! Gladiator who thinks you’re weird but doesn’t complain as you let him do almost anything he wants as long as he helps you do some things.
Yandere! Gladiator who has nightmares about the gladiator pit and wakes you up in the night when he needs water after the nightmares he has.
Yandere! Gladiator who you let sleep with you after one night where it was bad for him.
Yandere! Gladiator who falls for you and makes you cuddle with him all the time and is happy to help you whenever you need it.
Yandere! Gladiator who feels heartbroken when you come home in tears and put his collar back on him.
“I don’t understand cupcake why?” He said in the most broken voice you have ever heard.
Yandere! Gladiator who feels angry and hurt when you don’t answer and only cry in response.
Yandere! Gladiator who goes out the next day and when a guard mocks him for wearing his collar he snaps and when the guard is alone he fights him.
Yandere! Gladiator who is pulled away from the guard by some other guards he ends up picking up a piece of wood in the alley and beats all of them to death with it.
Yandere! Gladiator who walks away from the scene before going back home and taking a shower.
Yandere! Gladiator who was relieved when you weren’t home but when the news of three guards getting killed spread it made him a little nervous but you didn’t notice or suspect it was him.
Yandere! Gladiator who won’t let anyone stop him from being with you
Hey! Can you please write for Yan!Chrollo with a morning hard-on x Fem!Reader? :3
CONTENT WARNING: dark content (read at your own risk), yandere!chrollo, non-con, somnophilia, smut (mdni), implied killing (brief), implied stalking (brief), implied drugging (brief), dry humping, unprotected sex but no creampie, p in v, porn without plot.
WORD COUNT: 1.5k
NOTES: hi hi nonnie!! i had fun writing this one, thank you for this :3 i do hope its up to your standard! lmk your thoughts <3
It was another peaceful early morning; birds sung upon the first rays; skies tinged with rosy hues; streets were devoid of any individuals. It was perfect—well, no, almost perfect for two reasons: 1) you weren’t beside Chrollo, instead, he was greeted at the sight of his plain ivory beddings, and 2) he could feel a rather intense throbbing at the apex of his legs.
Each idle second spent had his cock growing with pure lust that only you could satisfy—not his own hand, definitely not a cheap little sex toy, you.
Who was he to devoid himself of that pleasure?
A tired groan escaped his velvet lips as he rolled off the bed, Chrollo was a naturally patient man but not when it came to satiating one’s carnal desire.
So, to take matters into his own hands, he quietly stepped out of his apartment, the metal door behind him closing with a soft thud as the cool morning air engulfed his warm body. He was still in his pyjamas, the ebony strands on his head sat dishevelled, revealing his sharp brows and the unique tattoo between them.
Chrollo walked down the open corridor, the soles of his slippers padding along the concrete beneath. You only lived next door to him, making it a very convenient trip for the latter—though, it wasn’t a mere coincidence, no.
After months of keeping an eye on the apartment building you lived in, Chrollo had seized the opportunity of living right next door but of course, that wasn’t without having to get rid of the sweet, sweet couple that once stayed in the apartment he now resided in.
He stopped before your door, an unreadable expression plastered on his face as he keyed in the code to your door, it emitted a soft hum before the lock became undone. You had invited Chrollo over the night before for a friendly dinner and he made sure to keep track of everything in your apartment, including the password to your door.
Chrollo entered without hesitation, carefully letting the door close with a light click before proceeding to take his slippers off and head straight to your bedroom. It was dim inside, the curtains were drawn and the only source of light were the ones that peeked through the small gaps of the curtain.
It had only been a few minutes since he left his own apartment but god did his cock fucking hurt, it was practically straining against his cotton pants, begging to be let out. He wasn’t usually this excited when it came to sex but he assumed it must’ve been his hormones going completely off the rails knowing that he was about to have you for the very first time.
Those nights where Chrollo furiously fisted himself at the mere thought of you were long gone because now, he could have the real thing. Was your cunt as tight and soft as Chrollo imagined it to be? There was only one way to find out.
He could almost whimper at the sight of your defenseless body—so vulnerable; so peaceful; so beautiful. You were on your side, legs tangled in the duvet, torso hugging a pillow, and ass on full display. Chrollo stood at the foot of your bed, onyx gaze shamelessly wandering up and down your body. He traced your soft lips with his eyes before slowly going down, down, down to your exposed legs.
Oh, you looked even cuter with those skimpy shorts on.
Chrollo wasted absolutely no time to hop on the bed with you and start grinding his clothed cock against the curve of your butt. The initial contact sent heated pleasure all over his body, driving him deeper into his lust-clouded state; he wasn’t even inside you yet but he could almost cry at the sweet sensation your body gave him.
Broken moans and breathy sighs in the shape of your name slipped past his velvety lips as he rutted his hips a little faster, one hand rested atop your hip to hold your limp body in place. He let out a breathy chuckle as he noticed your lower half subconsciously pressing back. What a dirty little slut you were.
Chrollo entertained your actions for a while by pressing himself further into you and grinding harder but soon enough, a little dry humping could no longer satiate the immense thirst his cock desired. With a sense of urgency—or rather, impatience, Chrollo stripped his and your lower halves naked, flinging off any article of clothing that could get in the way of his ministrations.
His cock stood proudly against his pale abdomen, raging scarlet and coated with a thin layer of pre-cum, he teased the tip along your slit which earned him a low mewl, he shuddered at the innocent sound. Chrollo wasn’t afraid of you waking up and catching him doing all this because he knew the drug he had slipped in your drink last night was potent enough.
He lifted your leg a bit to allow him some room before giving your nape a chaste kiss as he slowly entered your warm cunt. Chrollo let out a shameless moan against your ear as your cunt practically swallowed his tip, greedily sucking him in like the cock-hungry slut you were.
The tips of his fingers dug into your naked skin, breath turning shallow as he sank deeper and deeper into you, and as he bottomed out, he released a low moan of your name accompanied by his bare palm roaming all over your body,
“My love . . . you’re so perfect.”
Chrollo’s imagination was right, you were as tight and soft as he had imagined, and even more so. The way your wet, greedy cunt enveloped his hard cock was enough proof that you were solely made for him and even at the mere thought of other men being inside you left a bad taste in his mouth. They would only taint and bring shame to your sacred temple but not Chrollo, he’d worship you as though he was your devout follower.
Without wasting any more time, he slowly pulled his hips back—eyes almost rolling to the back of his head at the feel of your bare walls dragging against his shaft—before pushing in. Both your legs were closed which amplified the tightness of your cunt, albeit a little hard to move in, he couldn’t care less.
“Mhm . . . You like that, don’t you?”
Chrollo curled into your body, burying his face at the crook of your neck as he maintained a slow, deep pace; he wanted to relish the raw connection between your bodies; memorise the way your wet cunt quivered and responded with each thrust; how your subconscious mews sounded like absolute music to his ears.
Chrollo wondered if you dreamt of him, too.
Soon, his slow, sensual thrusts turned into erratic ones—pure desperation and lust were prominent with every sharp thrust of his hips. Your moans became louder too, interlacing not only with Chrollo’s low groans but also with the sound of skin slapping and lewd squelches. Everything that was once quiet grew in volume which filled your room with all kinds of sounds but Chrollo wasn’t ashamed one bit, instead, they fuelled his drive even further.
Your bed sang a rhythmic song, creaking with each shameless thrust of Chrollo’s hips, his heavy balls slapped into the skin of your ass which was sure to leave a burning sensation once you’ve come to. Chrollo tried his best, he really did, he tried his best to handle your unconscious body with the utmost gentleness but god, your sweet cunt felt way too amazing for him not to pound you into the sheets like a mere fucktoy.
Was he sorry? Not really but he’d make it up to you one way or another.
“F-Fuck, darling—ngh! I’m close . .” He panted into your neck as if you could hear him. As the knot deep in his core tightened with every pleasurable second, Chrollo roamed his hand beneath your shirt, roughly palming at your breasts and pinching your pebbled nipples. He couldn’t see your bare torso yet he could conclude by touch alone that you were perfect.
Chrollo peppered your neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses—careful to not leave any evident love bites—even the taste of your skin was heaven-sent.
Chrollo bit his lip hard enough to draw crimson, vision going white as he neared his impending orgasm, he gave a few more short thrusts before quickly pulling out to fist his cock furiously and shoot his load on to your exposed back.
He moaned your name as thick ribbons of his essence coated your back, they glistened beneath the morning rays that leaked into your room. Chrollo violently shuddered at the electric pleasure that engulfed his body; he laid there next to you, scarlet-faced and completely fucked out but nonetheless more than satiated.
Maybe next time, Chrollo would be able to see your lustful expression as he mercilessly fucked you into the mattress but for now, he could settle for your dainty moans.
Moon Sun or Eclipse do you have any advice on how to stand up to someone who really scares you or how to stand up to someone bullying you I ask because I figured you 3 must have gone through it due to everything that has happened and I wanted to know what you had for advice on it and also you guys are super cool hope your doing good and lots of love and care also sorry if that brings up bad memories👍
" I don't think the mers have the best advice.... I dont recommend following their advice. We dont condone killing someone in the Archives!! "
Drinking in the utter, devastating angst that is Whumpee watching the Caretaker that promised them “No one will ever hurt you for as long as I’m alive.” get killed by Whumper.
Warnings: Blood, injuries, violence, mentions of murder/killing
Masterlist
Previous Chapter
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Nico is the first to move.
He springs into action, pulling your phone from your hand and dropping it to the coffee table. You’re motionless, hand still in the air, fingers molded to where your phone was resting. The stupid email swims before your eyes.
Find Hughes before they kill him.
Nico grabs your shoulders, moves you until you’re facing him, blinking away the mental image of the text.
“Baby,” he says, tone gentle but capturing, and you snap back to reality, meet his gaze “need you to focus okay? Can you take a deep breath for me?”
You do as he says, inhaling and exhaling. He looks so steady still, like he can’t even feel the way the ground sways beneath your feet. It’s that certainty in his eyes, the determined and solid look he gets before jobs that gets you to actually focus.
He offers you a small, proud smile, cupping the side of your face in his large palm. “Get Johnny and Timo on the phone, tell them you’re here. Prep for injuries okay? Alex will stay with you, make sure he arms the security system once Nemo and I leave.”
Your hands feel numb and jittery, but you shake them out, nodding again. Nico ducks down to press a kiss to your forehead, sweet and reassuring, but he doesn’t linger before storming into the kitchen, all business as he barks orders to Alex and Nemo.
Following his lead, you head down the hall to his office, unlocking it with your thumbprint and rushing to the locked drawer at the bottom of the desk. You’ve already got it open and are digging out his things for him when he comes in, boots on his feet and black t-shirt stretched over his torso.
He’s silent as you help him finish getting ready, rushing through stuffing extra rounds in his jeans pockets, dropping to your knees to tie the red bandana around his thigh. When you glance up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrowed as he load his gun, clicks the safety on. You rise back to your feet and he tucks it into his waistband.
“Nemo have everything he needs?”
Nico nods, “I’ll give him the gun and vest from the car.”
There’s not much else for you to do after that except send them on their way, following Nico back into the kitchen where Alex is finishing showing Nemo how to display his colors properly. They stand at attention when Nico strolls in, following him to the garage door.
Alex hits the controls, lifting the large metal door and Nemo heads for the passenger seat, and you stand in the doorway, watching them, watching Nico. This time, Nico does linger, turning to face you with a deep furrow between his eyebrows.
“M’gonna get them,” he promises, cupping your cheek again. “I’ll get our boys okay?”
You nod, bite at your bottom lip with worry until Nico thumbs it free, urging you to speak. He’s right, there’s no time for delays or hesitance here.
“What if it’s not real?” You ask, “the email? What if they’re just trying to separate us Nico?”
He sighs, considering, like he’s already thought about it too. It’s Jack and Luke that have been threatened though, and you’re not going to let them get hurt on the off chance that someone is tricking you two.
“It’s our boys, better safe than sorry.” He shrugs, voicing your thoughts. “I’ll get Jack and Luke, you get ready, and if something feels off, if anyone trips the security system, you take Moose and Alex into the panic room, okay? I’ll know to come get you.”
Every time the panic room is accessed, Nico gets an automatic notification. It was designed in case you were home without him and someone managed to get onto the property without tripping the alarm system. Even if you have Timo with you, you’re supposed to arm yourself and get to the panic room with him and Moose. That way he’ll know right away. He can check the camera systems and come to you with backup.
“Okay,” you agree, swallowing down the nervous panic rising in your throat. You’ve been trained for this, meant to handle this, and you can. Just like you know Nico can. Still you grab at his bicep, finger digging into the fabric.
“Come home in one piece please? Or at least in something I can fix?”
He smiles, so small and tensed it doesn’t dimple his cheeks, but he leans in to kiss you goodbye. “I will, I promise. I’ll bring our boys back in one piece too.”
Nico has never been a liar, and every promise he’s every gave you has stood, so you peck his lips again and send him off to the car, and you don’t let your fear tell you that’ll it be the last time you see him. As much as you love the way his ass looks in those jeans, you refuse to let that be the last you see him.
Nico and Nemo pull out of the garage, and Alex shuts the garage door behind them, and then he hovers around you when you go back inside, waiting for him to arm the alarm system. You need to call Timo and Johnny, need to start setting this place up like a triage center, so you move, forcing your arms and legs to work, and your brain to shut up.
Then you hope and pray that you’ve got the right Hughes in mind, because if you don’t, you have no way of reaching Quinn anyway.
You fall into the methodical trance of fulfilling your duties, tasking Alex with getting ahold of Timo and Johnny while you start clearing off space on the kitchen island, sterilizing, preparing. You remember picking out this countertop. The discussion then was just about practicality, like how much space you’d have for family dinners and holidays. Nico had teased that there’s now lots of room for you to safely sit up there and watch him while he bakes or works. Just like you always did at the penthouse.
Until now, you never thought about how the island is just the right size for a makeshift operating table, that most of the boys could lay out on it easily. You wonder if Nico thought of that and your stomach rolls uneasily.
“Timo and John,” Alex tells you, hopping up from the barstool. He sets the camera monitor down by the sink, taking off to greet them at the front door. Moose follows him into the entry way but doesn’t leave, just sits pretty on the kitchen tile, watching you and him.
The alarm system chimes as he disarms it, and you peek over at the monitor, squinting at the different boxes displaying the camera views. They all look normal, devoid of movement aside from the ring camera showing Timo and Johnny.
You don’t stop watching it until the door is shut and Alex has armed it again. Timo enters the kitchen first, forehead knitted in concern. He pats Moose on the head, making a beeline for you.
“You okay?” He asks, softly squeezing your shoulders and you nod, unsure of what else to say or do. You are okay, you know that. The house is safe, you’re safe, but Nico and the boys, you don’t know if they are.
You trust Nico to get everyone back here, you just don’t know what state they’ll be in, and that for some reason, feels worse.
Timo reads you well, lips pursing into a sympathetic frown and he ducks down to press a chaste kiss to the top of your head. It doesn’t fix all your anxieties, but having the support of your partner in crime eases some.
“I’m going to pull up Nico’s tracker, yeah?”
You nod, blowing out a slow breath. “The office is unlocked. You remember the login to the software?”
Timo chuckles through his nose, giving you an incredulous look. You and him had giggled over the credentials for the tracking software a couple days after you got Nico back from the Rangers, and he’d laughed in disbelief when you told him Nico let you keep it.
Not that you would’ve let him stop you anyway. You’ll sneak a million different trackers on him in a million different places if it keeps him safe.
His laughter wasn’t of shock that Nico let you keep the tracker in his watch, but more so at the idea that you thought he wouldn’t.
“Right,” you grin, a little twitchy and tense “let me know when it looks like they’re heading back here, okay?”
“Got it boss.”
Johnny hauls a gear bag up onto the barstool, immediately going for the zipper. He’s shifting through items inside when he peers over at you.
“What are we expecting?”
You swallow, gripping the edge of the counter. “The worst. Message threatened killing so…”
Johnny nods, starts laying out the more advanced and heavily stocked medical gear Nico sneaks from the hospital for him. He may not be a doctor, but a Harvard college degree and saving your life was good enough for Nico to put you both unofficially in charge of situations like this.
“Which one?”
Your ribs throb, contracting painfully around your already-too-tight lungs and heavily beating heart. “Didn’t say,” you croak “just said Hughes.”
At your tone, Johnny pauses, hands still cradling a couple bottles of liquid pain killers and a needle. “You think it’s fake?”
You shrug. “Nico forgot there’s a third Hughes in our life.”
From the entryway, Alex pokes his head in, eyes narrowing menacingly at the mention of the eldest Hughes. You ignore the look, unsure of what to make of it. You don’t even know what messages have gotten out about Quinn and the Canucks, what the other organizations know. Everyone knows there’s three Hughes in the lifestyle, and you’re certain they know Nico travelled over the Canadian border to Vancouver, but any other details are a mystery.
Johnny hums, placing the items down and leveling you with a steady look. “What’s your gut say?” Like Nico, he’s always trusted you without explanation or word. You suppose saving each other’s lives, killing for each other after only interacting for a couple hours will do that.
He looks at you now like he’ll believe whatever comes out of your mouth next.
It’s a terrible feeling, having the name on the tip of your tongue, because you know if you say it, it’ll be like you made it true. You know it’s not possible, that you haven’t put this threat over Jack and Luke and Quinn, and that even if you say nothing, someone will still be hurt.
You know it doesn’t matter what name you say. It won’t change the fact that you’ll be going into this blind, that you’re expecting the worst case scenario right now, so you shouldn’t even answer but-
“Jack,” you mumble, unable to hold Johnny’s gaze. Instead you stare down at the sterilized countertop, clenching and unclenching your jaw. “If it’s not Quinn, it’s Jack.”
Johnny doesn’t stop moving, preparing everything. He’s still threading a needle for stitches when you finally sigh, reaching over to help get out gauze and dressings. He doesn’t seemed surprised by your answer, not like Alex does who stares at you with those big, brown eyes. Terrified, nervous, worried that he’s about to lose one of the closest things he has to a brother.
You want to take it back for his sake, but you know you’re right. There’s no world in which the Hughes brothers were threatened or attacked, and Jack didn’t take the brunt of it. You’ve seen what he’s done for Luke to protect and preserve his happiness, how he fought to keep him alive and to get him to Jersey, and you know that it’ll be Jack on this countertop soon.
“We know what we’re doing,” Johnny finally says in Italian, as if he’s come to the same realization as you. You won’t just be saving Jack, you’ll be saving Luke’s lifeline, Nico’s shining star, his best friend.
“We do,” you reply, “we’ve gotten through worse haven’t we?”
He offers you a crooked smile, gaze still focused and strained, but he looks certain. You trust Johnny, and he trusts you, and more importantly, Nico trusts you both to do this. He has faith in your ability to heal and comfort after he’s done the initial saving.
“They’re heading back,” Timo calls, hooking his hand on the entryway as he swings around Alex to meet your gaze. He looks the tiniest bit shaken, overwhelmed maybe. “Moving fast too.”
The message is clear. They’re rushing here and you and Johnny need to be ready. You snap into focus, directing Alex and Timo to the garage door off to the side.
“Get the garage open and wait at the stairs in case they need help, keep the rest of the house armed.” You instruct, pulling your hair back with the tie on your wrist. Johnny follows you to the sink, elbows bumping as you scrub your hands on soapy water, toweling them off with dressings from his gear bag.
You’re slipping on latex gloves when you catch sight of Alex standing in the open door to the garage, skin pale.
“Alex,” you call, and his gaze snaps to you. He looks so much like the kid you’d pulled off the jet all those years ago, same scared eyes and trembling fingers. “If it’s too much, you go upstairs okay?”
He makes a pained face, mouth opening to argue something along the lines of Nico being disappointed, of him not doing enough, but you don’t care. Alex has seen a lot of bad things in his life and you’re not going to let him see any more than he can handle.
“No one will get mad,” you promise him, “not about this. Your job is surveillance right now so all you have to do is make sure they get in this house before you arm everything and then watch the screens, okay? Nothing more.”
He barely gets a moment to nod before the roar of Nico’s engine comes down the drive, tires skidding on the pavement and Timo is yelling from the garage “they’re here! Let’s go!”
Alex rushes out into the garage and you finish clearing space on the counter alongside Johnny, double checking that you have everything laid out. Car doors slam, boots slap on the garage floor, and you hear the tremor in Timo’s voice when he goes “oh fuck man.”
You and Johnny share a look, silently checking that the other is ready, even if your breath feels stuck in your throat. The kitchen goes still for a moment, and then bodies gather in the doorway, and suddenly the room bursts into a flurry of movement and noise.
Nico is who you find first, dark hair hanging over his eyes and you pause at the red splattered along the side of his face, dotting his neck, and undoubtedly soaked into his black clothing. His arms and hands are stained with blood, flaking around his wrists and in his arm hair. You expect to find some kind of injury on him with the amount of blood he’s sporting except-
“Not mine,” he grunts out, at the same time you lay eyes on the body draped over his shoulder. It’s a mess- he’s a mess, clothes and skin matted so badly you can’t tell what is what. Nemo is on the other side of him, face so white you think he might be moments away from puking on your floor.
Nico and Nemo drag the body forward, Nico wincing at the sharp inhale that cuts through the room. You round the counter with Johnny, both of you reaching out to help.
The jostling makes him groan, a pitiful and heartbreaking little sound that makes Nico’s jaw clench.
You reach out to help carry him around the middle, but the sudden appearance of two startling blue eyes makes you stop.
Bloody and broken, tears already starting to make clean lines on his dirty cheeks, it’s Jack that’s barely hanging on by a thread. Over his shoulder, Luke crowds in too, an even bigger look of devastation on his face.
“Y/n,” Jack mumbles, breath hitching and you reach for his hair, combing it back from his dirt smeared forehead. He looks younger like this, his already baby face made vulnerable by pain and fear.
“Hi Jack,” you coo, hoping to calm him the best you can. You cup his cheeks, soft and cautious of any injuries that might be there. “We’re going to lay you down okay?”
He blinks, right eye swollen and bloodshot, and you take that as the best agreement he can give right now. You motion for them to keep moving, stepping out of the way as Nico, Nemo, and Johnny get Jack laid out.
You shoo the others away, Johnny grabbing scissors to start cutting away Jack’s shirt. Your hands are reaching for a cloth to begin cleaning his face when he opens his eyes again, half lidded and still shiny with tears.
“Luke?” he asks, “Lukey okay?”
It’s such a sweet thing to ask, unbelievably so, and yet it’s equally unsurprising. You only saw Luke briefly but he looked unharmed, completely untouched by whoever hurt Jack, but he’s still concerned for his baby brother.
“Luke is fine,” you promise him, starting to clean up his face. Johnny has gotten most of his shirt off now, dropping the pieces of fabric to the kitchen floor. “He’s here at the house with you.”
Piece by piece the extent of Jack’s injuries come into view. There’s less puncture wounds than you thought, a lot of scraps and bruises dotting his torso, but the culprit of all that blood is coming from a deep wound on his side.
Jack seems to realize he is fact at the house, looking around blearily at you and Johnny, at the light fixture hanging over him, trying to roll his neck but stopping short when something hurts enough for him to wince, more tears leaking out of his eyes.
“Nico?” He croaks, eyes wide and panicked all of sudden. “Is he-where is he? Schao…”
You apply pressure to his chest when he tries to sit up, shushing him the best you can. It doesn’t work the way it should, Jack fighting against your hold even if makes the pained expression on his face grow deeper.
“Nico is here,” you assure, “he brought you home Jack. He’s right here with you.”
He’s still tense, trembling with adrenaline and shock but lets you press him back until he’s laying down. Realizing the same thing, Johnny gives you a look as he reaches for the prepared shot of painkillers, handing them over to you.
“Y/n it hurts.” Jack says, and you push his hair back, working around the matted knots. Your cohort starts cleaning the wounds on Jack’s body. His nose scrunches into a wince, back arching off the counter at the sting, but it must hurt more because he collapses with a noise of protest.
“I know darling,” you sooth “it’ll be okay. Me and Johnny are going to take care of you, okay?”
His swollen cheek is an angry red, already turning to a deep shade of purple, and you resist the urge to cup his face, to hold him.
You can do that later. Right now, you need to fix him.
Uncapping the shot, you reach for his arm, feel around on the soft skin for a vein. Luke rushes up behind you, standing over your shoulder to look down at Jack.
“Rowdy?” He croaks, frantic “Open your eyes bud. Why are your eyes closed?”
You find a solid vein, digging your thumb nail into the skin as warning but he doesn’t seem to notice. When you glance up you find Jack trying to open his eyes. A sliver of blue appears and then fades behind his eyelashes, a whimper of protest leaving his trembling lips.
“Luke,” you say, lining up the needle “you should go to the other room.”
“No-“
“He can’t open his eyes right now Luke, he can’t help you,” you interrupt, tone firm “Let me and Johnny fix him up and then you can come back, okay?”
You get the shot into his arm, letting out a brief breath of relief when some of the tension in his body bleeds out, leaving him limp on the white marble.
“No I want to stay.” Luke argues, but Nico has slipped between you two now, is slowly bodying Luke away from the counter. You don’t have time to look at them, but you can hear the way Luke scrambles to get away, fights to get out of Nico’s hold. “Nico let me stay! I can’t- please I have to stay with him.”
“Luke no,” Nico barks, “give them a minute.”
Johnny is already finishing up some stitches near Jack’s hip bone, the skin over the sharp cut already bruised, and you mentally pray that it’d didn’t bruise too deeply. Starting with the worst, you move over to get a good look at his side, stomach turning at the sight of it.
You have no idea how he got it, what weapon it was exactly, but you do know it’s bad. What little you can make out around the blood is shredded layers of skin and muscle, so deep into the flesh that you grab for Johnny.
Nico has gotten Luke away from the counter but not out of the room. When you speak, it’s in Italian. “John, we might need a real doctor for this.”
Picking up your caution, he casually moves over to join you, peering down at the wound with a slight grimace.
“If that’s internal…”
Johnny shakes his head. “No hospitals, not tonight at least. You know the rule.
Right, the rule. It’s protocol that for ambushes, attacks like this the hospital is last case scenario. Unless the person hurt is actively dying, you stay away from the hospital. It’s safer, will keep them hidden and safe. Anyone who might come back to finish the job would think to check a hospital first and Nico doesn’t want them finding anyone there.
“Can you get the stitches that deep?”
He tilts his head, considering. “I think so,” he blows out a breath “it’ll hurt though. You might have to kind of hold on to him.”
You nod, glancing over your shoulder towards the youngest Hughes. He’s not fighting Nico anymore, but your fiancé still has a strong arm around him, bicep shifting as he rubs at Luke’s back. You pause at the sight of Luke’s face.
He’s tucked into Nico’s shoulder, hunched down to match his height but he’s staring at Jack, eyes glassy and unfocused, like he’s not actually seeing him. He’s not here.
It might not be the best idea, could lead to an angry and frustrated Luke, but Nico and Timo are here. They’d be able to handle him if things got out of hand, if he lost himself in panic and anxiety.
You don’t think it’ll be the case though. Not when it comes to Jack, to his Rowdy.
“Luke,” you call, ignoring the way Johnny’s fingers stop preparing another needle with thread. Across the kitchen, him and Nico both perk up to look at you.
You take a deep breath, motion him closer to you. “I need you to come and be here with Jack. Is that okay?”
Almost dazed, he nods. Nico, always so perceptive, catches onto what you’re asking of Luke. Dutifully, he guides the kid over to the bottom of the counter.
“Just hold his ankles,” you instruct and Luke’s eyes widen in panic “not tight. Don’t restrain him or anything but just so he knows you’re here, okay?”
Nico pats him on the back again, laying his left hand on Jack’s ankle and then nodding for Luke to do the same. Hands trembling, he matches the movement, tracing his thumb over Jack’s ankle bone. Moving to the other side of the table, you take Jack’s hand in yours, squeezing his cold fingertips in hopes that it’ll warm him up. With your other hand, you thread your fingers through his hair again.
“Ready?” Johnny asks you, gaze shifting to Nico and Luke for a beat.
“Yeah we’re good.”
Before Johnny can so much as touch his skin though, you’re tracing your thumb over his cheekbone. “Hi Jack,” you murmur and his eyelashes flutter again, fighting to open. “It’s okay darling, you don’t have to do anything. I just want you to know we’re here with you, okay? Me and Nico and Luke, too.”
“Hi Rowds,” Luke croaks, words wobbling “I’m here bud. The whole time I’ll be here. Even when you wake up.”
Nico squeezes his ankle. “You’re good, Jacky. We’ve got you now.”
Johnny has started stitching him up now, gloved hands making a gut wrenching slick sound as he digs into the wound. Jack groans, face scrunching in pain, and without much else to give him, you do the only thing you can to distract him.
You keep talking. Tenderly brushing your fingers over his face and through his hair, letting his fingers weakly squeeze yours as you tell him anything and everything. That you know it hurts but it’ll be better soon. Reminding him to just keep breathing, to let himself go to sleep if he can, that you’re all watching over him.
Most importantly, you keep telling him “you’re safe now, darling.”
Not soon enough Johnny has got him stitched and bandaged, peeling off the blood stained gloves and pursing his lips at you.
“What?” You ask.
“I don’t think he’ll need a doctor,” he says in Italian, “but we’ll have to watch the bleeding tonight.”
You planned on watching over Jack tonight anyway, and you’re certain Luke and Nico are planning the same, so between the three of you, the task should be simple enough.
Letting out a breath of relief, you look over the boy laid out on your kitchen counter. He’s awfully bruised and scratched, and could probably use another wipe down to clean him up. He’s not bleeding out anymore though and that’s a win except-
He’s still lying stiff and awkward on the marble, even with his eyes shut and mouth parted like he may be simply sleeping, something is off. It takes you another silent moment of looking Jack over to see it.
“Nico,” you call, “when you found him what was he doing with his right arm?”
“He was-it was just there I guess. He was on the ground, holding it a little weird maybe.”
Your curiosity has got Johnny’s attention, and he slowly leans over Jack to look at his shoulder. You think of them carrying Jack in, how he was propped up at an odd angle, the way he groaned when Nemo moved. What you originally thought was due to a difference in Nico and Nemo’s height was actually an injury.
“What’s wrong?” Luke asks, tone tinged with panic.
“His shoulder,” you comment, looking to Johnny for backup “I think he’s dislocated his shoulder.”
Johnny lets out a slow breath. Nico comes up behind you, warm hand finding your lower back and he leans over your shoulder to get a good look at Jack and the awkward jut of his shoulder.
“Oh fuck,” Nico murmurs.
“Did it pop or anything when you were carrying him?” You ask, turning to face Nico. He’s still looking at Jack, crease between his eyebrows. He shakes his head.
“Not that I heard. Nemo?”
Across the kitchen, a heavily accented “no pop,” comes from Nemo “but I could not lift it. It hurt him when I tried to carry him.”
You wince, unable to even imagine how badly it must’ve hurt Jack when Nemo tried to drape his injured arm over his shoulders. Nico’s gaze drops to you, guilty.
“M’sorry I should’ve noticed. We just tried to grab him right away and-“
“It’s okay,” you promise, finally getting a good look at him. He said Jack was just on the ground when they finally got to him, but what he didn’t say was that someone was there. Someone gave him a big welt on his left eye, the skin already inflamed and purple. He’s still covered in Jack’s blood, but you’d guess that somewhere on his hands are split knuckles and blood of his own.
Later, you’ll get him cleaned up and ice his wounds.
“We’ll just set it, bandage his arm down, and hope for the best.” You explain, and Johnny gives you a nod of agreement. Staring, you wait for him to come over and start setting Jack’s shoulder, and he blinks expectantly at you.
“That’s all you cara,” he laughs, holding up his hands. “I’ll keep him still but I think the only hands that can manage that are yours.”
“I’ve never set a dislocated shoulder before!” You squawk, pointing an accusing finger at him.
“Neither have I. We just learned about it.”
You and Johnny lapse into silence, contemplating even though you know you’ll be the one to do it. You’d rather be the one lining up his shoulder again than the one holding him still, pinning him down in the off chance that the sedative didn’t do what it’s supposed to do.
You cringe, “yeah okay. Just keep your hands on him, okay? And talk to him?”
Johnny salutes you, lining up next to Jack and laying a hand over his stomach and good shoulder. Nico stops you before you can turn away, grabbing the back of your neck and ducking down to kiss your mouth. Strong. Assuring.
He rejoins Luke, the two of them grabbing Jack’s legs again and he gives you a go-ahead nod. Taking a deep breath, you grip Jack’s elbow in one hand, bracing the junction of his shoulder with your other. Luke and Nico start talking to Jack, words that go in one ear and out the other as you go over everything you and Johnny read and watched on this.
You can’t be cautious or hesitant with this. There’s no second guessing. As soon as you shift his elbow up, following the same actions you saw in an animated medical lesson, Jack’s chest jumps with a sharp inhale.
Gritting your teeth, you keep going, running through the motion with certain and capable hands until the gut-wrenching pop of his joint rattles throughout the room and even worse, the way his limb slips into place in your hands. It’s enough to make you gag, turning to stifle the sound in your bicep.
After a beat of silence, you blink your eyes open, peer down at Jack to make sure he hasn’t died by your hand. You’re still caressing his arm and shoulder, fingertips white with how tightly you’re holding onto him.
Beneath them though, he looks perfectly fine. A little bruised and banged up, cheeks wet with fresh tears that have snuck out of his closed eyes, but he’s breathing, and he’s alive, and he’s safe.
“Oh thank god,” you sigh, reaching up to wipe his cheeks dry. He makes a gurgled sound of acknowledgement, lifting into your touch just a bit, and you think he’s trying to thank you or tell you he’s okay. Cupping his cheeks, you lean down and press a kiss to his warm forehead.
You’re not sure if Jack can really hear you, but the last thing you want to do now is startle him, so you announce out to the room, “we’re going to get your arm bandaged up now and then you can sleep, okay?”
Johnny has already pulled out a few rolls of Ace bandages, tearing through the plastic to hand them to you. Then he moves to Jack’s head, sliding his hands under his body with an apologetic, “It’s Marino buddy, I’m gonna sit you up for a sec.”
You help him prop Jack up, biting back a wince at the way Jack whimpers and groans, but quickly work on stabilizing his shoulder with one set of bandages, using the other to pin his elbow to his side so he can’t move it. There’s not much else you can do for him now except manage the pain as best as possible and hope that the wound on his side isn’t bleeding internally, so you stop Johnny from laying him down again.
“We should put him in the guest room down here,” you suggest, “Luke can sleep with him and he’ll be more comfortable than here.”
You make a face at the mess of bloody and stained gauze on the floor and across the counter top.
Nico steps forward. “I can take him Johnny. Me and Luke can get him changed and everything.”
He passes behind you, pausing to lay his hand across your back and press a quick kiss to the back of your head. There’s else to be said right now though, so he quickly moves on with Luke in tow. The younger boy follows quickly and obediently, still a little shaken and unable to take his eyes off Jack, as Nico cautiously slips an arm under Jack’s legs and the other around his back.
Just as steady as you know him to always be, Nico eases Jack up and heads towards the downstairs hall, Luke close behind. You make a mental note to give Luke something to help him sleep, but before that, you’ve got to finish up here.
Johnny hefts out a sigh, propping his up against the counter and peeling off his latex gloves. “Is now a bad time to say you’re so hot Cara?”
Exhausted, you snort, rolling your eyes at him. The gloves you’ve got on are disgusting, so you discard them for a fresh pair, ignoring his confused gaze in favor of turning to the trio of men hanging back by the door.
They’re all slumped back against the counters or the wall, a little wide eyed when they realize you’re moving to them now. Timo and Alex were here with you, out of physical harms way, so you start with Nemo.
“Are you okay?” You ask him, taking his chin between your gloved fingers and turning his head each way. Unlike Nico, he doesn’t have any bruising or welts on his face, but you double check anyway just to be safe. Even if it means Nemo is hunching forward, big brown eyes blinking nervously.
“I was not hurt,” he mumbles, smiling awkwardly around your grip. “Nico got in fight, sent man with Jesper.”
You turn his chin until he’s staring down at you. “Jesper was there?”
He nods. “Nico have him meet us there. Man standing over Jack when we got there, he fought them but Nico you know, win. And then uh send the man with Jesper to the docks.”
You, Timo, and Alex all wince at the same time. As pleased as you are to hear that they’ve got a lead in figuring out what happened tonight, the reminder of what they do down at the docks with said leads always makes your stomach turn. The one place you’ve never been is the empty shipping container Nico keeps down there. Not because he doesn’t let you, but because you heard enough about their interrogation tactics to know you don’t want to see it.
Alex has heard it all too, not that you’ve ever let him step foot there either.
Nemo frowns at you. “Docks not good?”
“Not good,” you shake your head, “at least not for that man. I stitch you all up here and I don’t ask any questions about what happens at the docks.”
At your pointed look, Nemo makes a noise of realization. Then his whole face scrunches. “That man is dead?”
Timo laughs, short but amused. “Yeah probably in a couple days if he’s lucky.”
Nemo’s frown deepens when you let go of his face, carefully patting down his shoulders and arms. He’s dirty and covered in blood the same way Nico was, though you know it’s not his.
“What are you doing?” He squeaks when you start prodding at his abdomen, muscles tensing under your fingers.
“Making sure you’re not hurt.”
“I’m not!” He insists, voice higher than you’ve ever heard before. You pause, glancing up at him. His cheeks have gone red and splotchy, bottom lip bitten between his teeth.
“Adrenaline can keep you from feeling injuries,” you tell him, “Are you sure nothing could’ve clipped you? No one shot a gun or threw a weapon?”
Jittery, he shakes his head. Not wanting to embarrass him or make him anymore uncomfortable than you’ve already had to, you straighten up, pointing a stern finger at him.
“If you feel anything, anything at all, you tell me. I don’t care if it’s a leg cramp at 4 in the morning, me or Johnny are told about it, yeah?”
He nods again. “Yes ma’am.”
You peel off your gloves, nodding towards the stairs and in a much gentler tone tell him, “Why don’t you go shower and get changed? It’s late.”
“Okay.”
He eyes you for another moment before doing an awkward shuffle to get around you. He’s halfway to the stairs when you call out, “bring your gear down to the laundry room please!”
Faint and accented, he shouts back, “Yes ma’am!”
Alex is next, already patiently waiting for you with Moose by his side. He offers a small, pained smile. “No one followed Nico home,” he says, motioning to the security footage.
“Good,” you nod, then level him a knowing look. “Are you good?”
He swallows, the gulp audible in the silent room, and thinks for a moment, eyes going a bit glossy as he looks over your shoulder at the mess that was Jack’s operation table.
“Yeah I’m okay,” he finally says, letting out a tired breath. “You and Johnny are really good at that.”
Bashfully, you smile at soft gleam in his eyes. You and John have always been a pretty good team of healers, have been since the moment you met him and it was you he was fixing up.
“Thank you,” you murmur, then cup his cheek “go get ready for bed and I’ll make you some tea?”
Almost shy, Alex ducks his head down, and you can’t help but laugh under your breath. You appease him though, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead too before sending him off towards the stairs with a pat on the shoulder.
Yanking off your latex gloves, you discard them on the messy countertop and shut off the tablet Alex left there. Maybe you should still have someone monitoring it, but you don’t want to. Nico can decide that later, after you’ve gotten everyone cleaned up and resting in bed.
Timo, arms crossed over his chest, holds his hand up and you high five him, going easily when he wrestles you into a hug.
“Good job sweets,” he says, “you didn’t throw up on Jack. You did gag though.”
You jab at his ribs in retaliation, bemused. “I never wanted to know what it felt like to move bones.” He makes a noise of agreement, patting at the top of your head when you slump into his shoulder.
“Tired?”
“Mhm, gotta clean up though.”
Timo nudges you back, nodding over your shoulder. Nico is there, standing in the entryway to the kitchen, just watching you and Timo. The bruise on his cheek has grown darker, raising a knot under his eye, but even with the hindrance you can read his expression clear as day.
Angry. Tired. Wanting.
“We’ve got it,” Timo tells you, “you’ve got another boy to coddle.”
You think about sticking your tongue out at him, asking him if he’s jealous or something over giggles. Normally you would, but there’s still an odd tension between him and Nico, and after everything you went over with your fiancé the past couple days, all you care about it making sure he’s okay.
Him and Johnny begin to load everything into trash bags and you cross the black and white tiled floors to Nico. You’ve abandoned your gloves already, but that doesn’t stop you from cupping Nico’s dirty face. Your heart thumps loudly in your ears and you contemplate asking Nico to get blood pressure medication from the hospital next time he raids their shipments.
“Tell me you’re not hurt Neeky.”
He sighs, quiet and relieved, voice just a whisper between the two of you. “I’m not hurt. S’just a black eye. Bruise on my shin too I think.”
Your shoulders slump, the anxious weight that had been sitting on them since he walked out the door to go get Jack finally lifting enough for you to breathe normally.
“Okay, let’s go get you cleaned up.” You usher him towards the stairs with a hand between his shoulder blades, pausing only to look back at Timo and Johnny, cringing at the mess that’s staining your beautiful, white kitchen.
“T, bleach water please?” You beg, but he’s already laughing to himself and waving you off, familiar with your cleaning standards after all these years.
“I know, don’t worry about this.”
You guide Nico up the stairs, meeting Nemo on the landing. He’s in his pajamas again, a cozy set of blue flannel ones he’d come back from the mall with a few days ago, and thick glasses on his nose.
“Laundry room,” he tells you, showing the balled up black clothes in his hands. There’s an odd pause where he looks from you to Nico and then back, waiting like he needs some kind of dismissal to keep going.
“Uh thanks Nemo,” you say, unsure of what else to do. He nods, squeezing his dirty cloths to his chest and then ducks around you and Nico to get down the stairs. Shaking off the odd encounter, you nudge Nico to keep walking with a pat on the ass, and when he glances back at you, you’re pleased to see the amused grin on his pretty face.
“What’s that for?” You ask, following him down the hall.
“Nemo,” he says, “he’s funny, huh?”
There’s a knowing lilt to his tone, like he knows something you don’t. Something about Nemo probably, but you’re not going to pry for details after you basically patted him down in the kitchen earlier. You’ve pushed Nemo’s boundaries enough for tonight.
“Sure,” you agree, and he doesn’t say anything else, but his little smirk stays planted on his face the whole way into the bathroom. It only turns to something softer once you’re getting a fresh towel out of the linen closet, asking him “bath or shower?”
“Whichever,” he shrugs, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it to the bathroom floor. Deciding it’d probably be best for you to try and wash the night away too, you turn on the shower water and grab a second towel, draping them over the hooks by the shower door.
Nico is leaning against the sink, a warm and gooey look on his face. Routinely, he hands you the claw clip you always have by the faucet and you pull your hair up. Without word, he reaches for your shirt, large hands rolling it up your torso and over your head, careful to not catch the clip you just put in.
Gaze never straying from yours, he tucks his thumb into the fabric and then swipes at your cheek, wiping away whatever had been stained there. One glance at the grey fabric lets you know it was blood- Jack’s blood, more specifically.
He smiles, sweet and loving once it’s been cleaned away. He looks at you like he’s got a million things to say, all of them something beautiful. Even after the night has been entirely upended, after finding Jack like that and having to put him back together, he’s watching you like it’s all okay.
Warmth floods through your chest, and you drop his gaze in favor of getting him out of the rest of his clothes. The shower has grown hot, fogging up the mirrors behind you, and you need to get back downstairs and help everyone to bed.
You also need Nico to stop looking at you like that. It feels wrong to be fluttering and flushing under his gaze when Jack is hurt downstairs and Luke is scared, and someone dared to lay a finger on your boys.
Nico doesn’t seem to mind though. Ever the mob boss, he’s capable of doing both, of showering you in praises with just a knowing look while also smoldering with revenge for Jack and Luke. For you too probably.
You nudge him towards the shower before stripping out of your own clothes, trying and failing to hide your laughter when you find him still waiting for you by the shower door.
He doesn’t speak until you’ve got him under the warm spray of water, fingers pushing his wet hair off his forehead.
“That was fucking incredible,” he says, voice loud after so long of listening to nothing but the pattering of the shower. The compliment makes your face grow hot, shyly dropping your gaze to the dips of his collarbones. Nico’s not having any of that though. His hands, warm and wet, grab at your hips and he guides you closer to him. Close enough that there’s nothing for you to do but peer up at him.
“Don’t be shy,” he chastises, earnest to the point of sounding angry. “I mean it. Everything you did down there took my fucking breath away.”
Nico leans down, presses his damp forehead to yours until all you can see are his eyes. Dark, proud, obsessed.
“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
You’d laugh if it weren’t for how genuine he is. It’s impossible to even fathom that he’s standing here with you, bruised and dirty, making such a claim.
Nico is strong. He’s always been the most bull headed, gritty, tough person you’ve ever had the privilege of meeting let alone getting to share a life with. To the point that it’s almost annoying, how enduring he is.
He feels like Goliath bowing down, breath ghosting across your lips, touch so delicate you’d never guess the strength he’s hiding.
It might be sacrilegious to keep comparing him to biblical figures, this man that calls himself the Devil with his horns hanging over his heart, but you don’t care.
Lucifer was once an angel, wasn’t he?
“Thank you,” you murmur, “I’m only as strong as you’ve made me.”
He returns to his full height, dragging you up onto your toes when you refuse to unwind your arms from around his neck.
“Maybe,” he agrees, knowing it has been him that’s trained all of you, taught all of you to be strong. You wonder if he knows it’s been more by example than practice. “That doesn’t make it any less impressive though.”
You smile in thanks, combing his hair back again and then cradling the wounded side of his face. With the swelling bruise and his dark hair slicked back, he looks like he’s stepped straight out of Goodfella’s, the embodiment of mafioso himself blinking down at you, waiting patiently for you to soap up his hair and kiss his dimples and wrap him up in a fluffy towel.
Maybe you’ve impressed him, but it’ll never compare to how even the simplest aspect of him will blow that out of the water every time.
“The man,” you say, after you’ve rinsed all the suds out of Nico’s hair. “Nemo said you took him to the-“
“Yeah,” he nods, clearing his throat “yes. Well Jesp took him, not me, but yeah.”
His eyes are searching, sweeping over your face with a slight hesitance. The docks are not a place you’re ever eager to discuss. In fact, every time they’ve been brought up in the past or Nico has mentioned needing to run down there, any curiosity you’d normally have disappears.
You don’t want to even hear about the docks let alone visit them, and you don’t want Nico there either. Not that you could realistically keep him from there. He’s the boss and the worst of all them, a necessity to interrogations.
Jack used to try and freak you out, tell you half-assed, vague stories of what Nico did at the docks, what he taught them all to do. You don’t know if Jack just thought it was amusing or if he was trying to test you, but aside from a slight sense of nausea, you didn’t really react.
Those stories were always so far off from your Nico that it wasn’t hard to pretend they were just that; stories.
Even if you know deep down, Nico is a versatile person.
Nervous, you ask, “are you heading down there after this?”
He laughs softly, brushing his thumb over the uncomfortable scrunch of your nose. Much to your relief, he says, “No I’ll send Timo to help him out. M’staying here with you and the chind.”
Eyebrows furrowing, that relief turns to confusion and you frown at him. "What does that mean?"
Nico shrugs, aiming for nonchalance when he responds but a blush has settled high on his cheekbones. "The kids."
Your face must give away how gooey that makes you feel because he turns shy, rolling his eyes and dropping your gaze in favor of reaching around you to shut off the water. You can't help it though. You love Nico, you can't wait to marry him. And ever since Switzerland and Nola announcing the baby, you've thought about one day growing a family with him. There hasn't been any talk of it yet, not with everything going on, but you know what this means for him.
Nico has been thinking about it too, about having a baby with you.
At least enough for him to feel fairly comfortable with admitting you've already got kids. More importantly though, he said it in Swiss German. The language from his poor, broken childhood that he rarely shares with you.
You let Nico guide you out of the shower now, grabbing his towel off the hook and wrapping it around his broad shoulders. He snuggles into it, hiding his blush and shy grin in the fluffy fabric as you dry off with your own towel. No other words are exchanged. He watches you dry off and change into clean pajamas, ducks down for you to towel through his wet hair and then sit him on the edge of the tub to clean his face, put cream on his bruises. In that comfortable bubble, after he's gotten dressed and let you run hydrating oil through his damp hair, press a kiss between his eyebrows and then to his swollen cheek, you decide that this is what you want. You want it right now too.
You want Nico soft and happy, the way he should be. You want family dinners and movie nights, want to send all the kids off to bed with a kiss on the forehead and a mug of warm tea in their hands. With Nico, you want the loving and peaceful home you never had.
It's almost impossible to have peace in this lifestyle, but you can sure as hell try, and between you and Nico, you think you'd be good at making it.
The first step to getting there starts tomorrow. It's time to end this fight with your parents. And you'll let Nico do it however he deems necessary.
~~~~
Nico is already awake when you finally stir, fingers sifting through your hair, heart beating under your ear. It's Jack you see first though, propped up on the pillows next to you, mouth open and breathes heavy in the kind of way only drug-induced sleep can cause. He's holding your hand though, hasn't let go since he woke up in the middle of the night, voice a watery warble as he told you he hurts. Nico had gotten up, slipped out from under you to get the painkillers, and had them popped them in Jack's mouth while Luke blearily gave him water. Luke tucked back into his side then, careful of his shoulder, and Nico had petted at his messy hair, and you stroked over his knuckles until ten minutes later when he fell back to sleep, his grip on your hand loosening, but never letting go.
Luke is still asleep next to him, his mess of curls the only thing visible from under the blankets. Stretched out over the lump that you think are his legs is Moose, head hanging off the edge of the bed, but hulking form still taking up too much space. You wonder if he was mad last night that he couldn't lay over Nico's feet like he usually does, if he jumped onto the bed and paused when he realized it was you that was there now, laid out in the V of Nico's legs and tucked into his chest. If that's why he slept on top of Luke instead. Maybe he realized Luke needed him more.
Cautiously, you slip your hand out of Jack's, wincing at the tense spot in your shoulder as you push up onto your elbows. Nico is already looking at you when you blink up at him, finding his eyes in the shadowed room.
"Hi baby," he whisper, looking like he spent more of the night awake then he did asleep. Maybe it's just the dark bruise that's taken over his left eye or maybe it's the way little light filters in through the blackout curtains, but he looks dim with exhaustion.
"Oh Neeky," you murmur, "did you even sleep?"
The guilty purse of his lips tells you all you need to know before he says, "Not really, not after he woke up." You picture Nico laying there all night, staring up the dark ceiling, listening to you snore into his chest, running his fingers through Jack's hair and then yours, carefully craning his neck every few minutes to make sure both boys were still okay.
At your upset frown, he squeezes the back of your neck and promises, "I'll be okay. Just need some coffee."
So you carefully slip off the extra blankets from the living room that were draped over you and Nico, climbing out of bed with his hands steadying your hips, and then the two of you tiptoe out of the room, leaving the Hughes boys and Moose to keep snoring.
In the light of the kitchen, he looks so much worse. Swollen, purple bags under his eyes, the left one bloodshot and turning a muddy black color. You’ve seen Nico with a lot of injuries over the years, but they never get any easier.
“You need to ice that,” you tell him, digging in the fridge for the homemade cold brew he loves. Lazily, he hums and pulls out two mugs from the cabinets, passing them to you across the island counter.
He doesn’t have the energy to complain when you add creamer and brown sugar syrup to his. He just leans over the countertop, knuckling at his good eye, and you make your own mug of coffee.
It’s an odd sense of unease being in the kitchen after last night. True to his word, Timo and Johnny cleaned everything to a T. If it weren’t for the welt on your fiancé’s face and Jack in the other room, you’d never believe that this spotless kitchen was a hospital last night.
You return all the coffee ingredients to their place in the kitchen before fishing out a bag of frozen peas and carrots from the freezer drawer. Nico is scooping up his mug when you rattle the bag at him.
“Come on, let’s go talk.”
Zombie-like, he drags his feet to the living room, collapsing into the couch in a way that has you holding your breath and praying for the sake of your white cushions under his mug. Somehow not a drop is spilled, and you set your own coffee down on a coaster.
Nico turns to face you when you sit next to him, one leg up on the couch, and he lets out a breath of relief when you gingerly hold the peas, now wrapped in a tea towel, to his cheek.
You give him a moment to just drink his coffee and be, to let the throbbing of his face go numb, before asking, “Timo still out?”
“Texted me this morning,” Nico says, dark eyelashes fluttering as he opens his eyes to look at you “Haula and Dermy were taking over, but he was heading home to clean up before daylight and would head over here after.”
You nod, contemplating. “Did you recognize him? The man?”
Nico blows out a breath, jostling the peas when he shakes his head. “No I didn’t. I’ll have to ask Luke and Jack more later but, we got there and Jack was on the ground by his car. Guy standing over him and Luke was coming out of the restaurant across the street. He’d already gotten to him pretty bad by then.”
It’s not great to hear. There’s not a lot of details about anything, and it all happened so fast last night you doubt Nico had a chance to look around for anything that might offer clues. It’s a little comfort though to hear that Nico doesn’t know the man, doesn’t recognize him at all because-
“You thought it was him,” Nico says, not a question but a fact “you thought it was your father.”
Noncommittal, you shrug, but you know you’re not fooling him. “Even if it wasn’t him personally, it was him. Who else would do that?”
The distraction, him showing up to the bar and demanding to see you or Nico. He raised your guard there, set off alarm bells for Nico to keep a close eye on you, just to go after Jack. Depending on the details, he might’ve been hoping to get Luke in there too.
Nico perks up a bite, eyeing you curiously. “Would he? Is he capable of it?”
“Two years ago I would’ve said no, but look what they’ve already done,” you explain, “look what they’ve done to their own kid. I don’t like to try and guess what they’d do to someone who’s not.”
He nods, eyebrows creased in thought and takes another sip of his coffee. “Whether it was them or not, someone knew about it before us.”
Right, M73. The mysterious email pen pal had given you a heads up. One that might’ve saved Jack’s life.
“And warned us,” Nico continues “When that email came in, Jack hadn’t been touched yet. So it was planned and this guy knew about it.”
Lapsing into silence, you two stew on it for a moment. You know Nico doesn’t trust M73. Especially after Dawson’s failed attempt to track down the location of the IP address. If anything, it made him more nervous that this guy was so unattainable and somehow knows so much about you two.
“I know it scares you,” you start, laying your free hand over his “that this person knows these things, but if last night showed us anything, we know we can at least trust whoever it is.”
“Hardly,” he scoffs, “because we still don’t know who it is.”
You nod, conceding. “I don’t think they’re hiding from us Nico. I think they’re hiding from someone dangerous.”
He blinks at you. “I’m dangerous.”
True, but this is different.
“What if they’re caught up in what’s going on and are actually trying to help us?” You offer, “I mean they saved Jack and probably Luke last night, which means they know that they’re, they’re our- what did you call it?”
He smile, soft and shy. “Chind.”
You nod, mirroring his grin. “Our chind. They know how much family means to us.”
He hums. “They probably also know what we do to protect our family.”
Squeezing his hand, you’ve just begun to nod in agreement when he startles. His sudden movement and rigid posture knock the makeshift ice pack from his face, falling into your lap uselessly.
“What?” You ask, heart jumping at his deer in headlights expression.
“M73,” he says, “do you- I think it might be Quinn.”
A little dumbfounded, you sink back into the couch cushions, hoping they’ll just swallow you and Nico up. It’d probably be for the best. The headache you’ve got building up in the back of your skull will dull and Nico could finally get some shut eye.
Evidently, the couch doesn’t swallow you up, and you’re left staring up at the gold chain around Nico’s neck, thinking.
You and Nico have always been on the similar wavelengths, and just yesterday you were thinking of Quinn Hughes so it’s no surprise that Nico apparently was too. With the way everything was left in Vancouver, you also knew it would likely not be the last time you have to see the Canucks boss. Of course you didn’t know when or how, but you told him to fix it if he wanted his brothers back.
Maybe this is him trying to do that. He’s one of the few on the East Coast that would know how you and Nico operate, how you take care of Luke and Jack. He’s also the only one that would have a personal stake worth going against an entire mob for.
It’s believable and makes the most sense, but you still respond, “I don’t know. M73 doesn’t seem to mean anything to Jack and Luke when they heard it. But it makes sense.”
You let out a huff of irritation, tossing the peas and tea towel onto the coffee table in favor of curling up in a ball. Nico grabs the top of your head, nudges you into tipping over into his side, and you do.
“Maybe we’ll find out when I call him.”
Nico fingers freeze where they had been massaging at your scalp, caught off guard. “Why are we calling Quinn?”
Suddenly a little choked up and watery, you turn to hide in his ribs. “Jack is really hurt Nico. He deserves to know that.”
“Yeah okay,” he sighs, and a gentle kiss is pressed to the top of your head. You take a couple deep breathes, choking down the lump of emotion in your throat.
“We should eat something,” you finally say, “Alex and Nemo will be up soon, and Jack’s pain meds are going to wear off so he’ll need to try to eat too, and Luke is always hungry.”
You make a move to get up, but Nico locks his arm around you, tucking you back into his chest. “Alright, we’ll feed ‘em baby,” he promises, the words spoken into your temple, “but Timo just unarmed the gate. Let’s hear what he has to say first.”
It’s not a suggestion. Even if you think the boys, the chind should come first, Nico wants this dealt with now. That’s just the kind of person he is. He’ll feel better, feel like he’s protecting Jack and Luke if he gets to the bottom of the threat immediately. It’s what any mob boss would do. And you’ll feel better feeding them, making sure they feel safe and cared for. It’s what any mob wife would do, at least you think so.
Still, you follow Nico into the kitchen, ignoring the notifications coming for the security iPad of locks being disarmed, and by the time you’re hopping up onto the island counter top, Timo is shuffling in through the garage door.
“Oof Hisch,” he grimaces, “your face looks brutal.”
Nico frowns, grumbling out a “Thank you Timo.”
You paw at Nico’s shirt, pulling him back until he’s standing between your parted thighs, and you can wrap your arms around his shoulders.
“Leave him alone,” you tell Timo, “he’s still pretty.”
Your best friend laughs, holding up both hands in defense as he toes off his shoes. Nico’s hand finds your thigh, squeezing appreciatively and you peck a chaste kiss to his shoulder.
“How’s Jacky?” Timo asks, opening the fridge to fish out a bottle of the fancy European water him and Nico love.
“He’s okay,” Nico answers, “no signs of internal bleeding so whatever her and Johnny did to that cut on his side worked.”
Timo leans against the counter opposite, taking a large swig of water. “That’s good.”
“He’ll be up soon though,” you add, “once his meds wear off, he won’t stay asleep.”
Whatever adrenaline or instinct that knocked him out on the counter last night before you could even get a shot of painkillers in him will be long gone by now. As soon as that cut starts to ache and his shoulder starts to throb, he’ll be up and probably begging.
“Get a move on it is basically what’s we’re saying,” Nico simplifies, pinching the soft skin on the inside of your knee when you scoldingly bite his shoulder.
Timo rolls his eyes, taking another long and slow drag of water that has Nico glaring at him. He caps the water, setting it to the side and blowing out a slow breath.
“We got nothing,” he finally sighs, shaking his head in frustration. “No marks of other mobs on his body, no identifying objects, nothing. Me, Jesp, and Jo all took a run at him and he won’t fucking give us anything.”
You grimace at his words, glancing down at the hand he has braced against the countertop, and sure enough his knuckles are swollen and bloodied. You’re not sure what exactly comes with a Devils “run at” but you’re sure more damage was done than just the handiwork of Timo’s fists.
Thankfully, Nico doesn’t ask him to expand on the details of what they did.
“Figures,” Nico grunts, “when you called in Dermy and Haula I assumed we’d had an issue.”
Dermy and Haula aren’t exactly top dogs amongst the group, but they’ve got other skill sets that Nico keeps them around for. The main one being their ability to torment and tear through others in an almost animalistic way.
Timo’s face scrunches in discomfort, hesitance bleeding into his gaze, and he looks from Nico to you, then back. Your fiancés shoulders tense.
“What?”
“There is one thing we got out of him. The only thing he’ll say really…”
Impatiently, Nico motions for Timo to just hurry up and say it despite the grimace that’s sunken his features even more. What ever this guy said, Nico isn’t going to like.
“He says he’ll only talk to the mafiosa.”
It makes Nico laugh, a twisted and cruel laugh that you already know means absolutely not. You don’t go down to the docks when they’re not holding someone there. There’s no way Nico will want you going there now, and you don’t really want to take a trip there but-
“He said that?” You press, chest going cold. “He said mafiosa?”
Confused, both Timo and Nico turn to look at you.
“His words exactly,” Timo assures, “why?”
They’re so smart, usually. Together, Nico and Timo put together a whole mob family at a very young age. On top of that, they did it in the forgotten state of New Jersey and somehow made the Devils big enough to compete with the large cities mobs.
They’re also so unbearably dumb sometimes.
“Mafiosa,” you explain, “you guys don’t use that word around here.”
All at once it clicks for Nico, his mouth pursing with realization. The first and only person to call him mafioso, to purr it in his ear in hopes of riling him up, was you. The North American groups don’t call themselves mafia at all. They’re strictly mob.
“It’s Italian,” Nico murmurs, not surprised “he came from somewhere with Italian roots.”
“And he knows me.” You add, “So not just any roots.”
He came from your roots, from your family, and he came with the intention of getting to you. Like Nico, you can’t say you’re shocked. Since last night you believed it was your parents that did this, even if it seemed impossible. You have no idea how they’d think to do this, how they’d know this man that hurt Jack, any of it.
But you have seen firsthand how cruel they can be.
Now they’ll see how much worse Nico can be.
“What do you want me to do baby?” He asks, stepping back between the v of your legs. As you sort over the details, he cups your face, soothing his thumbs over your cheekbones.
You love Nico’s hands. They’re big and capable, warm and safe on your skin, loving in every touch they lay upon you. They’re also dangerous when you need them to be.
“We’re going to go see Mrs. Sposato,” you decide, “I need to known more about my Nonna before…”
A hand moves to the back of your neck, taking ahold of you with a strong grip, and he squeezes, both encouraging and placating. “Before what?”
Faintly, you can see Timo come closer too, standing over Nico’s shoulder to look at you. There can’t be any hesitancy here though. Nico needs to know you’re serious about this, so you hold his gaze, steady and firm when you finally speak.
“Before I let you kill my parents.”
~~~~
Timo watches you closely for the rest of the morning. There wasn’t a time to expand on your plan after Alex came stumbling downstairs and bullied his way between you and Nico for a morning snuggle. Not even five minutes later Luke and Moose came out, croaky and scared as he told you Jack was up and needs more meds.
You moved to fetch them, Nico and Alex started on breakfast, and Timo went to let the dog out in backyard, officially tabling the discussion.
Now though, with Alex and Nemo completing a surveillance shift alongside Johnny, and Nico and Luke helping Jack into the downstairs bathroom for a shower, that calculating gaze turns into more.
Elbows bumping as you load the dishwasher together, Timo wastes no time.
“You’re really going to let him do it?” He asks, not judgmental but apprehensively soft in that way Timo always is. It’s similar to the way Nico speaks to you when he’s genuinely curious, words barely there. You’ve heard it from Jonas too a couple times, the latest one being at the bar, when he questioned you about your father.
You wonder if it’s a Swiss thing, being that soft spoken and kind when they want to be.
“I don’t know,” you murmur, scrubbing off a stubborn bit of dried potato from a plate “I want to. I think it’s what they deserve.”
“It probably is,” he agrees, taking the dish from you and placing it on the bottom rack. “I just don’t want you regretting anything later.”
You want to laugh, want to tell him the only thing you regret to this day is letting Rino walk away from Switzerland and Nico. That you still think you were being too kind and naive. You should’ve killed Rino then and there, let Nico say his goodbyes standing over a grave. If you had known Luca and Nina wouldn’t hunt him down the way they should, you would’ve stopped him then. It would have made everything easier for everyone.
You’ll never forgive yourself for acting out of the kindness of your heart that day, but you also don’t think you’d be able to forgive yourself if you had killed him either. Would Nico have forgiven you for it? Probably, the same way he’s forgiven you for all but exiling Rino. Would you be able to forgive Nico for killing your parents?
It’s a complicated thought, especially since you know he’d only do it your behest. You don’t think he’d even have to ask for forgiveness. There’d be nothing to apologize for.
“Nico stayed here last night,” you reply, “any other time he would’ve been at the docks himself. He’d be taking care of it and you’d be here with me. That was always the protocol.”
“I know,” he agrees, and the dishes go forgotten for the moment.
“Instead he chose to stay here. He told me he wanted to be here, with me and the-the chind.”
Timo’s eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t interrupt, arms crossed over his chest as he patiently waits for you to finish.
“I still stand by what I said about having kids. I’m not ready and I don’t think he is either, but that doesn’t change the fact that we already have those boys, and for the first time Nico is…he’s being more than their boss or their friend.
“And I want that. I want to have kids with Nico and I want him to believe himself and know he can be a good father.”
Shuffling, Timo hands you a towel to dry your hands, and then the two of you rest your husband the edge of the sink. When you meet his eyes, they’re shining with something you can’t quite place. Before you can ask him, he urges you to go on with an implying, “but?”
“But if anything worse had happened last night, if we’d have lost Jack or Luke- and we would’ve of if it weren’t for that email- you know Nico would never move on. He’d always blame himself for that and everything here would be lost. He’d never let himself have kids if that happened, so anyone who is a threat to it, has to go. Whether they’re my family or not, and they’ve proven time and again that they’re not.”
The words hang in the air for a moment, settle into the stillness, before a slow grin takes over Timo’s face, and your gaze narrows at him.
“You know, Nico used to be such a little douchebag when we were teenagers?” He starts, much to your confusion. “He grew up a lot when we moved out here, but before that he was the worst. Part of the reason he named us the Devils is because all the mothers back home swore he was a devil. And they swore he’d always be that way. He’d die just like the devil, angry and mean and alone.”
You’re no stranger to stories of Nico’s reputation, especially his one back home. You heard stories from Timo and Jonas, were cautioned by random girls in his bar when they saw you, encouraged by friends to leave him, abandoned by parents. They all something so bad in Nico that it wasn’t worth their time. You’ve spent years trying to find what exactly that is and have come up empty every time. Still, you’re not shocked to hear back home he was worse. You are appalled to hear that grown woman would say such things about a teenage boy though, especially one that was only trying to survive.
What do they expect from a child that was taught to hold a gun and take a life before he even knew himself?
At your indignant scoff, Timo laughs. “He’s always had a problem with people looking at him and seeing what they want to see. He never bothered trying to change their minds either, because it didn’t work. He knows what he was born for and raised to be; exactly what everyone always said. A little devil, the evil prince of the Hischier’s.
“The only person to see him, just as he is, is you.”
You’re suddenly reminded that while Timo is your best friend, he was Nico’s long before that. He grew up alongside that supposed Swiss Devil of a boy, witnessed it all with his own two eyes. You’re not the first person to see the real Nico, Timo was, and that glint in his eye from earlier clicks into place. Admiration. Pride. Love.
Timo is Nico’s closest thing to family from back home, is more of a brother to him than Luca. He loves Nico. And he loves you. And he really loves that you love Nico. That you never fell for the devilish front Nico put up.
“He can be mean,” you say, choked up for some reason “and he can be angry and he can be an asshole. But everyone can. Not everyone can be as loving as he is though, or as protective.
“I won’t regret killing anyone who might take that away from him.”
Timo bundles you up into a big hug at that, cheek pressed into the top of your head, and he squeezes you so tight it aches in your shoulders and ribs, makes all the air in your lungs squeak out. “Whatever you decide boss.”
You laugh, not as wheezy now that he loosens his hold. Still, it’s a hard decision and while you think it’s right, you’re terrified of fucking this up. It seems like no matter what you pick, it won’t be the best decision.
“Being in charge sucks,” you mutter, “I should just let Nico decide. He’s been trying to kill them for years.”
“Think he was more trying to impress you,” Timo admits, “he would never hurt them without your approval. He just wanted you to know he’d take care of you.”
Your whole body goes warm, lips curling into a giddy smile that you attempt to hide in Timo’s shoulder. He knows you so well though, snorting as he buts his chin into the top of your head.
“You’re disgustingly cute about him.”
“I know,” you agree, cheesing when he pulls back to look at you “that’s why I think I can get him to decide for me.”
“No chance.”
You hum, “If I asked him while crying, he’d do it.”
“Yeah probably.” He agrees, equally amused and fond. One day, when you have more time, you’ll have to fully thank Timo for giving you Nico. You may have seen around Nico’s devil-facade, but he did his best to push and test you, and at the times you thought you’d lost Nico or that it would never work, Timo was always there to talk you down. And talk some sense into that friend of his.
At the wedding maybe, you can find a way to show him. To credit him for being someone you and Nico both leaned on when everything was too heavy for the both of you.
Huffing and puffing, the sound of someone grumbling their way down the hall interrupts you and Timo. Luke comes around the corner and into the kitchen, scowling. His face softens into begging eyes and a pout when his eyes meet yours.
“What’s the matter Lukey?” You ask, going back to finishing up the last of the dishes. He plops down into one of the stools at the island, plucking up pieces of leftover fruit from breakfast.
“Jack kicked me out,” he mumbles, petulant “apparently it’s weird having his brother help him shower. Not weird if Nico does it though.”
Timo snorts. “That’s because it’s Jack and Nico.”
You glance over your shoulder, find Luke glaring at the back of Timo’s head, cheeks stuffed with food. “I want to help take care of him.”
“You are,” you assure him, wiping down the now empty sink as Timo started to run the dishwasher. “You slept with him all last night, were there to get his meds this morning. By just being with him when he needs it, you’re helping him.”
Luke is still pouting, shoulders hunched and deflated when you come to sit next to him. He shrugs, popping a grape into his mouth. “I didn’t really do anything last night. I mean we were all here, we all saw you do it.”
Almost guilty, he hangs his head. “You did everything.”
Across the kitchen, Timo raises his eyebrows and purses his lips. Snagging his drink off the counter, he motions to the other room, and you’re left alone with a very dejected Luke.
“I did what I had to,” you amend, “I did what Jack needed. Which is why I had Nico bring you back in to hold him and talk to him. He needed you, Luke. And you were there for him.”
You frown when he doesn’t say anything, clearly not believing you but unwilling to argue. Hopefully, this is something he’ll be able to fully unpack at therapy next week, but for now, it’ll be up to you. For now, you’ll do what you have to again.
“You should be proud of yourself Luke.”
He chokes down another bite of grapes, glancing up at you through dark eyelashes and messy hair, and you think this is probably what Nico saw sitting outside his bar when Luke was just 16. You’ve never questioned why Nico took them in, but when Luke looks at you like this, you’re reminded why cold, hard, devil Nico couldn’t turn them away.
“You were here with him, in more ways than one. You didn’t shut down or get mad, but you fought to be with him. That’s a big deal and it’s big progress.
“And me and Nico will always baby you two, and protect you two, but I will say, you’re turning into a really strong and capable man, Luke.”
Impossibly, Luke eyes grow even bigger, glossy and bright. He sits up straighter, shifting until his gangly knees bump into yours.
“I don’t feel like a man,” he admits, “I feel like, I need you or Nico all the time. Like I’m still a kid.”
You know this is serious for him, know he’s genuinely torn up about the fact that last night Nico had to come to rescue, that many times before he’s had to do the same thing for them. It’s hard not to laugh under your breath though, both amused and in disbelief.
“Needing us or needing help doesn’t make you a kid,” you explain when his eyebrows pinch in offense. “Nico needed help with Jack last night, so he brought him to me. I needed help in Switzerland, so I called you. Needing each other makes us a family. Not immature or childish.
“It means we trust each other.”
He’s silent, eyes searching your face like he expects you to laugh again. Or maybe he’s looking for cracks in a facade, trying to see if you’re just lying to him to make him feel better. You’re not though, and after a moment he must realize it to be true, because he takes a deep breath and sits up even straighter.
“Does Nico tell you about our rookie tests?” He asks, and you shake your head. You know of the rookie tests, know that once they complete training, Nico gets together with Timo, Jonas, and Jesper, and they all put the boys through a final test or challenge. It’s what seals them into the Devils. It’s how they earn their ring.
You never know the details or even asked. It’s been awhile since you’ve had a rookie, Alex being the last and his training was different. He earned his pennant and ring by being with you and Nico. And when Luke was training, you were holed up in the penthouse and at therapy with Nico. You never heard a word about Luke’s training and progress.
“We finish our training and stuff, and one of them tells us that we’re pretty much in. That we’ll have a final test to see if we get our ring. Jonas was the one that did most of my stuff, him and Timo. They don’t give any details though, just say we’ll know when we know.
“A couple days after I was doing stuff with Timo and Jonas finds us, said it was an emergency or something and we had to go right now. We went to this big factory or something outside the city, and Jonas finally told me what we were doing there. He said that Nico was hurt, that someone got you again and everyone was inside.”
Your confusion deepens. You’ve never been held at any factory outside of the city, never been taken by anyone except Philly and Nico’s father. There’d be no universe either in which Nico would send anyone after you without going himself, unless he were worse than just hurt.
It hits you then, that was Luke’s test.
“We got separated inside. Jonas and Timo were- I don’t know gone I guess. Not really, but I thought they were, and I just had to keep going. I had to find you. And I did, but when I got inside the boiler room it was Nico instead, and he had my ring.”
Unsure of why Luke is telling you this, you nod. It’s almost cruel, you think, of Nico to use that in a training or a test. Especially for Luke, who knew that only a few shorts months before that, you had been taken. That situation was completely real. You had been hurt and Nico was using it as a game for Luke.
“That’s the test,” he continues, “all the rookies are put in a rigged scenario that we think is real, where you’re actually in danger, and we have to save you. Jack said he did it too, that they all did.
“We didn’t have to pass either, not really. As long as we were willing to bleed or die trying to find you, Nico gave us the ring.”
The hurt ache that had been building up in your chest eases, replaced by the feeling of your swollen heart beating just a little too fast. Nico wasn’t using you for a game, wasn’t capitalizing off your trauma. It wasn’t a game at all. The test was to make sure that they’d all protect you, that they’d save what matters most to Nico.
“Oh,” you croak, wringing your hands together. You wish Nico wasn’t scrubbing shampoo into Jack’s hair or toweling him off or whatever right now, because you want him out here. You need to see him, need to do something with your fingers that ache to hold him and body that throbs to curl into his.
Clearing his throat, Luke finishes, “Loyalty is what makes us Devs, and it’s measured by how much we’ll lose for you, what we’d do to save you. At the time, I thought it was extreme. I thought Nico was a little crazy, but I get now why he uses you for the test.
“He has to. He has to know that we’ll do anything for you because you’ll-you do more for us.”
You don’t know what else to do except wrangle Luke into a hug, leaping off the barstool and throwing your arms around him. Without hesitation he hugs you back, long arms wrapping around your middle and he tucks his face into your shoulder, nose burrowing into your shirt when you tangle your fingers through his curls.
“Thank you for saving Jack.” He whispers, voice cracking before he hides in your embrace again. You squeeze him tighter, pressing a kiss to the side of his head and blinking around wet eyes. Luke never has to thank you for that, none of them do. You’ll always do it, no questions asked or gratitude needed, because you love them. You love them so much it threatens to bubble out of your entire being, spill over through the tears in your eyes.
“Always, Luke,” you swear, “never forget that, okay?”
You give him one last squeeze before pulling back, holding him by the shoulders when you say, “Jack didn’t mean anything by asking for just Nico. He’s your older brother, he didn’t want you to see him vulnerable.”
Sniffling, he nods. Then he blows out a big breath, shaking off the significance and emotion of the talk you two just had. Following his lead, you pinch at his cheek and tease, “And he’s got a boy crush on Nico.”
Luke groans, half-heartedly shoving you away from him. Giggling, you pick up the now empty fruit plate and go to deposit it in the sink. When the boys are here, it feels like the sink can never actually be empty, but you don’t mind. Even if dishes are your least favorite chore.
“Boy crush,” Luke grumbles, “if anyone around here has a crush, it’s Nemo.”
You frown. “Nemo has a crush on Nico?”
Which for some reason makes Luke snicker, rolling his eyes at you like it’s obvious or something. Nemo follows Nico around like a dog chasing bone, acts more like his shadow than even Alex, but you didn’t think he had whatever little crush Jack has on Nico too. Nemo just seems like he really looks up to Nico, and is probably a little lonely.
Pushing up from the stool, Luke meanders over to the fridge and pulls the door open.
“I dare you to say that to Nico,” he says, then ducks his head down dig through the fridge. Lost on the punchline, you blow him off. You’ll ask Nico later maybe, when you don’t have so many other things to talk about.
Right now, you need to focus on Jack and stopping your parents, in whatever shape and form that may take.
~~~~
In fresh sheets and with the tv on low, Jack lay curled up in the guest bedroom, eyes heavy from medication and exhaustion. He smells like Nico’s body wash and your conditioner, and you wonder if Nico used it thinking it’d help tame the wild curls Jack never lets dry freely.
He must’ve, because his hair is a frizzy halo on your shoulder, falling over his eyes in that charming messy way he pulls off well, and he looks so much better now, so much more like himself. Even with the bruises and scrapes, and the awkward way his shoulder sits in the sling Johnny brought him.
You sift your fingers through his hair, hoping the action is both grounding and reassuring. It must be, because he stops fiddling with the duvet cover once Nico has turned the volume down on the tv, sitting by your feet.
“How are you feeling Rowdy?” He murmurs, laying a hand over Jack’s ankle through the blankets. You feel the way his body relaxes further into yours.
“Good” he croaks, “tired, but those painkillers are wild dude. M’gonna be flying soon.”
You can’t help but giggle into the top of his head, fondness swelling in your chest at the way even Nico smiles in amusement. That monthly check he sends to the hospital is definitely paying off.
“Good to hear,” he nods, pausing for a moment. His eyes track the movement of your fingers in Jack’s hair, growing so familiarly round and sweet. It’s the expression he only gets with you and with the boys…with your chind.
“Can you talk to us? Before the painkillers knock you out?”
Jack hums, lazy and tired, but you feel him nod against your shoulder, followed by a quiet “yeah I can do that Schao.”
Carefully, he shifts to sit a little higher up on the pillows, craning his neck at an odd angle to keep your fingers in his hair. You catch the way Nico’s grip flexes around his ankle.
“What happened last night? Luke told us what he knows but there’s that gap when you weren’t together.”
Luke had shared his side earlier while Jack was resting after a late lunch. They were hanging out the loft, decided they wanted to go to dinner. Not takeout dinner or abusing the Uber Eats app you know has one of Nico’s cards in it. They wanted to sit down and have a real dinner. It’d been something they were trying to do more since Vancouver, a moment with just them, brother bonding and all that.
Jack realized after ordering that he left his wallet in the car. It was parked in the back alley, outside a private entrance only them and the staff get to use courtesy of the big Devils logo on the front window and stamped into the back cover of every menu. He nipped out to grab it real quick, said it would only take a minute, and left Luke sitting there at the table. Appetizers came out, and with a heartbreakingly guilty expression, Luke admitted to forgetting about Jack and scarfing down almost all his calamari before he realized Jack had been gone for around ten minutes.
He told the hostess he was just popping out to check on something, assured them he wasn’t dining and ditching, and went out the back alley. He had just stepped out the door and made out the man standing over Jack on the pavement. Luke managed to wrangle him from the back, get the pistol out of his hand when Nico’s car pulled up.
Which is how Nico found them. Jack on the ground, a man standing over him, and Luke aiming the barrel of it at the man’s forehead. Instead of shooting, Nico had tackled him to the ground, took a few hits and laid more of his own, enough to knock the guy out.
Jesper and Jonas picked him up and took him to docks, and the rest of them got Jack in the car and brought him to you.
“It happened so fast boss,” Jack starts, slurring the -s just a bit. “Know you always said it does. Remember how fast Philly grabbed her too, but it’s different when it’s me.
“I opened the car and grabbed my wallet from the cupholder. And then I closed the door and suddenly I was being shoved into it. I don’t know, I tried to fight. Managed to turn around and try to hit him, but he caught me under my shoulder and like-“ Jack makes a lazy motion of pushing up, and you cringe at the mental image. You knew what it felt and sounded like popping it back into place. You don’t want to know what it was like when it was dislocated.
“I heard it pop and then I was like on fire. It burned so bad. Something sharp caught my side and I was down. I don’t even remember what happened, how long I was down before I could hear Luke. I think we were in the car or-or back here maybe.”
Nico’s eyebrows are furrowed in thought, jaw tight. “Did you hear a car? Did he say anything?”
Jack takes a slow breath and you know he’s getting even drowsier. You’re not sure how much longer you’ll manage to keep him up before he’s not making sense anymore.
“No car. Don’t know where he was even hiding or what. Didn’t see him when I went out there,” he says, delayed and heavy. “He said something though. In Italian.”
Of course, Italian. He was asking for the mafiosa at the docks. It’s no surprise he was probably asking Jack the same.
“Do you remember any of it?” You ask him, lighthearted and easy. The last thing you want is him feeling guilty or burdened for not knowing.
He hums, contemplative, and then in one of the most brutal Italian accents you’ve ever heard, mumbles, “diavolessa. He said some other stuff but I just remember that because I remember thinking I should ask you what it means.”
Nico is already watching you before Jack even finishes the sentence, so he catches the way your face falls. Your veins turn cold with disappointment and guilt, because this cements it. The mafiosa term could be excused as coincidence maybe.
This cannot.
“What does it mean baby?” Nico presses, tone careful.
You sigh, eyes heavy and sad. “Diavollesa means she-devil,” you translate “he was looking for me.”
Half-asleep, Jack makes a noise of realization. When you glance down at him, his eyes are closed, long lashes brushing his cheekbones. He’s still coherent enough to tack on, “sick name, she-devil. Don’t know the rest of it but the cameras, I parked under the cameras like you said.”
Simultaneously, you and Nico both perk up. That was a rule you gave all of the boys. Whenever they went out without Nico or with less than four of them, they needed to always park near a light or a camera. It was the same precaution you’d taken since you got your license at 16, something Marky had advised you in passing when you both completed drivers ed at school. He said you were less likely to be attacked under a light, and if you were, at least security footage would capture it.
You passed it onto the boys just because you could. Because Nico was always giving them rules to stay safe and you wanted to help too, wanted to protect them. You figured it was good practice, even if they weren’t as vulnerable as you. Hopefully they’d internalize it, teach their future partners to do it too.
Jack remembered and he did it, and now you and Nico can go dig through security footage that will give you what you need.
All the information to get rid of your family forever. Tomorrow, you’ll decide if Nico is going to kill them or not.
It won’t just be you choosing though. You’ll give them exactly what they want. God bless them, the mafiosa, the she-devil will be selecting their fate.
