#i guess a lot of injuries and she's not bad

[liyliths]

౨ৎ ⋆ ｡˚ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

summary: you wind up a monster hunter, also third wheeling nancy and jonathan until steve harrington of all people shows up, surprise! between genuinely thinking you're going to die, fighting a monster, and trying to get will back, you're still wondering how you ended up in hawkins of all places. and, what's better, going back to living with your pos dad or fighting interdimensional monsters? you also find out steve harrington isn't as bad as you thought he was, yay!

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Is King Steve realizing he might not be a king after all?” She teased, watching with amusement as he winced at the nickname, waving her off. "Please, don’t call me that," he groaned, rolling his eyes as he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. "And, uh, Carol and Tommy? Yeah, they turned out to be real assholes."  Y/N shrugged, her tone light but knowing. “You were an asshole, Steve Harrington.” She pointed a finger at the boy’s chest, before giving him a slight, playful shove. Steve’s shoulders slumped slightly as he gave a small, regretful shrug. “I guess we all were, and I’m sorry.” Y/N’s lips curved into a grin as she met his gaze, her eyes softening. “Apology accepted.”

pairings: steve harrington x reader

warnings: mentions of a fight, death, blood, injury, cursing, monsters, and use of firearms and weapons

word count: 8.3k

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Outside Hawkins Middle School, the teens rushed to Jonathan’s car underneath the stars. Jonathan slid into the driver's seat, shutting the door with a sharp thud. Nancy climbed into the passenger seat, her eyes sharp and focused. In the back seat, Y/N slipped in and glanced between her friends, taking a deep breath.

“Will the kids be okay by themselves?” She was quick to ask, glancing between her friends in the front seats.

“They should be. We need to grab those supplies from the police station,” Nancy nodded, shifting in her seat and turning to face Y/N. “We can’t let Hopper and Joyce walk in there like bait. If we can kill that thing from up here, it’ll give them the upper hand.”

Jonathan nodded, “Then let’s grab what we need from the station and get the hell out of there.” He spoke as he ignited the engine, the car’s tires screeching against the parking lot asphalt as they backed out of their spot, rushing to the station.

𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Jonathan killed the engine as the group piled out of the car, their breath visible in the dark fall air. They rushed to the trunk where they had stashed the hunting tools and traps they had recovered from the police station after breaking in. Nancy grabbed the gasoline, while Jonathan hefted a box filled with bear traps and other supplies. Y/N took a deep breath and picked up a bat, turning to look at her friends.

Jonathan’s eyes scanned the shadows of the yard, his voice steady. “Let’s get inside and set up. We don’t have much time.”

They set to work immediately. Jonathan placed the bear trap in the hall, nailing it to the floor to be sure it was sturdy. Nancy reloaded the pistol they had stolen from Jonathan’s dad, while Y/N shuffled around the house, checking the windows and making sure all their defenses were in place, then began pouring a gasoline trail leading to the bear trap.

After everyone finished their contraptions, they gathered in the living room. “Remember—” Jonathan began reciting their plan, glancing between the two girls.

“Straight to Will’s room, and—” Y/N recalled, with Nancy finishing her sentence. “Don’t step on the trap, then wait for the yo-yo to move…” She then glanced to Jonathan who gestured at the lighter in hand, clicking his tongue.

“We light it up.”

“Alright, are we ready?” Jonathan glanced up, the group stood in a tense circle. They each held knives to their palms, hands trembling. The plan was simple but terrifying: lure the Demogorgon with their blood.

“On three,” Jonathan’s voice wavered, betraying his nerves. He took a shaky breath, his eyes lingering on the girls, sensing their hesitation. “You guys don’t have to do this—”

“Jonathan, stop talking.” Y/N interrupted the boy, her voice strained but firm.

“I’m just saying, you guys don’t—” Jonathan tried to argue before Nancy’s voice cut him off.

“Three!” Her sudden shout cut through the tension, sharp and decisive, like the blade they all pressed into their palms. The room erupted into a flurry of movement as they each sliced their skin, blood spilling freely from their hands.

“Holy shit—this is going to scar,” Y/N gasped, clutching her bleeding hand with her uninjured one, trying to shake off the intense, stinging pain. She watched as blood dripped down her wrist and onto her fingers, meeting the floor beneath her.

“Quick, let’s get wrapped up,” Jonathan rushed to the first-aide kit by the couch, urgency creeping into his voice. Nancy winced as she looked down at her own crimson-streaked palm, her face pale yet determined.

The group worked in silence, the eerie quiet only broken by the rustling of bandages and the occasional hiss of pain. Jonathan focused on wrapping Nancy’s hand first, his movements quick but careful. Y/N noticed how delicately he handled Nancy’s wound and the way he looked at her with soft eyes—it was hard to miss.

“Did you hear that?” Nancy asked suddenly, her voice tinged with fear as she glanced toward the window, while Y/N continued bandaging her palm.

“It’s just the wind,” Jonathan replied, though his voice lacked certainty. He kept his eyes on Nancy’s bleeding palm, trying to finish the task at hand while the girl’s gaze darted around the room, her paranoia growing with every growing second.

“Jonathan, are you sure?” Nancy’s voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with fear.

“Don’t worry,” Jonathan tried to reassure the girl, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself, too. “My mom said that when it comes, the lights speak. They blink… think of them as alarms.”

Y/N nodded, but her unease was clear as she held her bandaged hand toward Jonathan. “Do you think this is tight enough?”

Jonathan glanced at her hand, noting the blood seeping through the white bandages. “Wrap it some more—”

A sudden, thunderous knock echoed through the house, cutting off Jonathan mid-sentence. The sound was so jarring that all three of them jumped, their hearts pounding wildly as they whipped their heads toward the front door. 

For a moment, they were frozen, caught between fight or flight as the reality of their situation hit them full force. A deafening silence followed the knock, each of them holding their breath, waiting for what would come next.

“Jonathan, are you there man? It’s Steve!” The boy’s voice shouted from the other side of the door, and the group looked at each other with panging confusion written all over their expressions. 

“Is Harrington seriously at my house right now?” Jonathan scoffed.

“I just want to talk!” Steve continued pounding on the front door. Y/N shook her head in frustration—mostly disbelief, glancing between Nancy and Jonathan. She stood from her seat, marching toward the front door.

Steve Harrington has the absolute worst timing ever. The door creaked open, revealing the boy. “Hey, Y/N—what are you…” Steve’s voice faltered, his eyes landing on Y/N’s figure. His usual perfect appearance was wild—his face bloodied and bruised from the fight with Jonathan, and his hair tousled and messy.

“Steve, listen to me. I’m serious. You need to leave.” Y/N’s voice was tense, her body angled to block the doorway, preventing him from seeing the chaos inside. She peeked through the crack, her bandaged hand gripping the doorframe.

“No, no—I’m not trying to start anything, okay?” Steve pleaded, his hand resting against the doorframe, eyes wide with desperation.

“Steve,” Y/N raised her brows cautiously, “I don’t care about that. You have to leave, now.”

“No, please listen I–I messed up, okay? I messed up! I just want to make things right. Please,” Steve pleaded, but his words trailed off as his eyes landed on the girl’s bandaged hand resting on the rim of the door, blood seeping through.

“Hey, what happened to your hand? Is that blood?” Steve’s face was etched with genuine concern, reaching out instinctively to examine the wound, but Y/N yanked her injured hand back, tucking it behind her.

“Nothing—it’s nothing. It was an accident, alright?” Y/N snapped, her patience wearing thin. 

Steve Harrington, after all he’d done—was the last person that should be wrapped up in this, and quite frankly, the last face on the entire planet Y/N wanted to see.

Steve’s brows furrowed, his concern shifting to confusion. “Wait—did Jonathan do this? Did he hurt you?” His voice wavered as his mind raced to put the pieces together. Before Y/N could respond, her words caught in her throat, and she watched as Steve’s expression hardened.

Oh shit.

“Let me in!” He demanded, shoving the door with force. Y/N tried to hold him back, but Steve’s determination overpowered her. He stumbled inside, eyes widening as he took in the chaos. His gaze landed on the bear trap, the weapons, and the mess strewn across the house. Nancy and Jonathan stood by the couch, watching the boy cautiously.

“What is all this? What the fuck…” Steve’s voice trailed off with bewilderment. He looked around, the acrid smell of gasoline filling his nose. He barely had time to react before Jonathan rushed up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

“You need to get out of here!” Jonathan shouted, shaking the boy by his collar. “I’m not asking you—I’m telling you.”

But Steve Harrington’s skull was too thick to get through.

Steve jerked his arm free, glancing down at the floor with disgust. “What is that smell, is that—gasoline?” His voice wavered with disbelief. But before he could process it further, Nancy stepped forward, the sound of a gun clicking catching Steve’s attention—raised and aimed directly at him, while Y/N and Jonathan shared a stunned glance, taking a step back.

“Steve! Get out!” Nancy’s voice cut through the tension, panic edging her words. Steve’s eyes widened as he quickly raised his hands in defense, staring down the barrel of the pistol that was just a few feet away from his face.

“Wait, wait, wait, what is going on?” Steve stammered, attempting to wrap his head around the situation he found himself caught in.

“You have five seconds to get out of here!” Nancy shouted, her eyebrows furrowed together with determination.

“Okay—is this a sick joke? Put the gun down!” Steve’s voice grew louder, his hands held out in defense.

“I’m doing this for you,” Nancy raised her eyebrows at the boy. Steve’s heart thudded in his chest, his breathing heavy. 

“Nancy, seriously! What is—” But before he could finish, the lights above them flickered violently, the hum of electricity faltering. Nancy began counting down from three, with Steve pleading for the girl to stop.

“Nancy!” Jonathan’s sharp voice cut through the girl’s reverie, catching her attention. “Look at the lights!” His finger shot upwards and she followed his gaze—gasping. But Y/N didn’t waste a second. She grabbed a crowbar from the coffee table, her knuckles white as she clutched it while the others followed suit, collecting their weapons.

“Where is it?!” Y/N shouted, spinning in frantic circles as the lights flashed erratically, nearly blinding them.

“Where is what? Easy with that thing!” Steve’s erratic voice followed Y/N’s, watching her group with the others, backs against each other as she clutched her crowbar.

“I don’t see it!” Jonathan yelled out, eyes darting to every corner of the house, squinting to see through the blinding lights. “Hello?! Will someone please explain what the hell is going—” Steve screamed out frantically, demanding answers before getting cut off by a sickening crunch from above as the ceiling buckled. They were met with the horrifyingly tall figure of a monster crawling through—the Demogorgon.

Nancy didn’t hesitate. She began to fire at the monster as it hung in the ceiling through a coat of thick slime, but Jonathan grabbed her arm, dragging her back to the safety of the hallway to follow their original plan. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her eyes flicking between her friends retreating and Steve stood frozen in place.

Without thinking, Y/N lunged toward Steve, grabbing onto the boy. Her grip was tight around his hand—double her size, yanking him down the hall as hard as she could. Steve stumbled as he was pulled away, following Y/N’s lead down the hallway—the Demogorgon screeching just behind them.

“Jump!” She shouted through the chaos as she passed the bear trap, and Steve barely registered the warning.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” He screamed, his voice raw with fear as he leaped over the trap, his hand clutching onto Y/N’s as if she were his lifeline.

They stumbled into Will’s bedroom, slamming the door shut behind them with a heavy thud, their hearts hammering in their chests. “Jesus Christ, what the—what the hell was that?” Steve blurted out through his ragged breath, his voice cracking with adrenaline.

“Shut up!” Nancy and Jonathan turned to face the boy, shouting in unison, their voices strained with panic. Nancy looked downward between Steve and Y/N, her eyes instantly locking onto their interlocked hands.

Steve’s breath hitched as he glanced down, suddenly noticing his hand still tightly intertwined with Y/N’s. His fingers, sweaty and trembling, lingered in hers as she shook with fear. Y/N’s heart dropped, and the sudden warmth of Steve’s touch hit her like a jolt of electricity through the panic—she quickly pulled her hand away, clutching it at her side.

Nancy hesitated before she shifted her focus to the door, weapon ready in hand—where the growling of the Demogorgon grew louder with each passing second. The floorboards outside the door creaked, and the walls seemed to tremble under the creature's weight, its shadow looming beneath the door as they held their breath.

Suddenly—the lights above stopped flickering, plunging the room into an unnerving stillness as the electricity hummed still. The relentless sounds beyond the door ceased, replaced by silence. The group let out a breath they didn’t even know they were holding, attempting to ground themselves.

“Do you hear anything?” Y/N whispered, her voice barely more than a breath as she glanced between the others.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes, trying to listen for any sign of the monster. He sighed heavily, the sound filled with both relief and dread. “No, nothing.”

After a few moments, Jonathan hesitated before opening the bedroom door, taking the lead with his bat readied. He peeked his head out, scanning the shadows. The others followed close behind, every creak of the floorboards underneath their feet thunderous in the silence, with each passing second becoming more and more unpredictable.

As the group cautiously entered the living room, their heads darted around as they took in the silence. The spot where the ceiling collapsed had vanished without a trace, leaving just a crack as if it were remnants of some sort of leak.

The Demogorgon was nowhere to be found.

Y/N turned around, snapping out of her thoughts to see Steve muttering to himself, “This is crazy, this is crazy, this is fucking crazy!” His brown eyes were wild with panic, hands trembling while he paced in frantic circles.

He suddenly paused, with desperation flashing in his eyes—before lunging for the Byers’ home phone mounted on the wall, his fingers fumbling to dial 911. Y/N, adrenaline coursing through her veins, stormed towards him, yanking the phone from his grip.

She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her as she forcefully chucked the wireless phone across the room, the device clattering against the wall and shattering the tense silence. Steve looked at her, stunned, his erratic breathing mirroring the chaos in his mind.

“What are you, crazy!?” Steve's voice trembled as he held out his hands, desperation and fear etched on his bruised face. His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of the looming threat. 

“It’s going to come back! So you need to leave, right now.” Y/N shouted, her voice laced with sternness as she fixed him with a determined stare. She watched as Steve hesitated—his eyes flickering between her, Nancy and Jonathan, and the front door.

With no words spoken, Steve made a sudden beeline toward the door, his footsteps echoing loudly in the silence of the room. As the boy hurriedly exited the house, the rest of the group gathered close in the living room, their backs against each other, eyes darting nervously in every direction.

“Is it going to come back?” Nancy questioned, her back pressed firmly between Y/N and Jonathan’s. Before anyone could answer, the lights above them began to flicker erratically, with wild shadows dancing across the walls. 

The Christmas lights strung around the room blinked in a dizzying array of colors, their intensity almost blinding in the dimness. Tension hung heavy in the air, their hearts pounding in sync with the erratic pulsing of the lights. They took labored breaths, looking between every corner of the house the eye could spot.

“Come on, you son of a bitch!” Jonathan readied his bat, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the base.

“Where is it?!” Y/N shouted, clutching her crowbar in hand.

"I don’t see—“ Nancy's voice faltered as the electricity abruptly cut out, plunging them into pitch-black darkness, leaving the group with just a few feet of visibility in front of them. A heavy silence settled over the house, broken only by the sound of heavy breathing and the faint rustling of the wind outside.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she cautiously turned around, examining her surroundings with what she could see, the air thick with dread. A strange grumbling noise sounded closely, and she narrowed her eyes, focusing on the odd figure before her—until she realized what it was. 

Just in front of her loomed a monstrous figure—its grotesque, faceless visage and pallid, slimy skin, gleamed in the dim light, a chilling reminder of the imminent danger she faced just feet away. 

Y/N's sudden scream pierced the air, her terror echoing through the house as Jonathan and Nancy whipped around to the scene unfolding before them. The Demogorgon moved with quick and terrifying speed, locking onto Jonathan and tackling him to the ground, sending the boy’s bat clattering away in the chaos.

Gasping for breath, Jonathan struggled to regain his bearings as Y/N, fueled by adrenaline, swung her crowbar at the creature in a desperate attempt to help her friend. The metallic clang echoed against its ribs in the dimly lit room, and they could only watch as the monster suddenly halted its advances on the boy.

The Demogorgon turned its attention towards Y/N and Nancy—its pale, slimy skin reflecting the dim lights of the room. It stood tall and menacing, its faceless visage haunting in the darkness. Jonathan, barely conscious, could only watch helplessly from the floor as the creature slowly advanced on his friends with deliberate—almost mocking steps, its presence dreadful.

“Nancy, do something…” Y/N’s voice shook, backing up cautiously beside her friend. 

She watched in the corner of her eye as Nancy raised the pistol she held in hand, aiming the firearm at the monster. Its face opened up, revealing the horrifying sight of a shape almost like a flower blooming underneath its flesh—with slimy and thin sharp teeth covering every inch beneath its skin. “Go to hell, you son of a bitch!” Nancy screamed as she pulled the trigger, the room lighting up with each round that went off. Gunshots echoed through the house, but dread filled inside them as the bullets had no effect—the monster’s skin was too thick. It kept advancing, making slow steps toward the pair. Nancy fired again, each step backward more frantic, desperately hoping the bullets would make some kind of difference until an empty click sounded. Heart racing, she fumbled to reload, only to realize she was out of bullets.

Their backs met the wall behind them, defenseless, only able to watch as the Demogorgon inched closer. Its rancid, deathlike stench filled the air, horrifying their senses. Y/N shut her eyes tightly, her breath hitching as the creature's growl rumbled just inches away. Suddenly, a hard shove sent her sprawling to the floor, landing on the back of her head harshly. She looked up, heart pounding, only to be met with the faceless monster towering above her—her mouth forming into a silent scream.

Her body trembled as dread settled into her bones, each shallow breath scraping her lungs, desperate and thin. Time seemed to slow into eternity as she stared at death just inches away from her face—the monster’s foul breath fanning across her skin, with thick, wet slime dripping off its mouth, splattering on her forehead. Her fingers clawed at the floor, searching for something—anything, to save her. 

The only thing she felt was the cold certainty that this was it.

A guttural grunt broke through the tension, snapping Y/N back to the present as a heavy thwack echoed off the Demogorgon’s thick skin. In a blur, the monster above her shifted its attention and she gasped—barely able to process the sight above her. Steve Harrington, breathing hard—eyes blazing with something between terror and fury stood before her, ready to take on the monster. 

Steve Harrington had just saved her life. 

The boy’s movements were much different than a few moments ago when he had scrambled out of the house in an escape—his body now ready to fight. Y/N could only watch as he dodged and weaved the Demogorgon’s relentless attacks, each move a desperate dance for survival.

With every opening, he swung the bat Jonathan had dropped, the wood and nails cracking against the monster's slimy skin. He drove it back, blow after blow, the force reverberating up his arms. The Demogorgon stumbled into the hallway, Steve’s strikes landing on its stomach, doubling it over. With a final, powerful swing, he forced it into the bear trap with a resounding snap.

“He’s in the trap!”

Nancy rushed to Jonathan, who was still recovering on the floor, urging him to get up and offered her hand to help. Steve quickly shuffled over from the hall to Y/N’s side, grabbing her hand and helping her up from the ground as she trembled. 

“You okay?” The boy was quick to ask, his eyes examining the girl as he delicately held her steady by her waist.

“I think so,” She breathed, nodding, ignoring the sting on the back of her head as she shifted her attention to her friends in the hall standing before the Demogorgon—preparing to finally kill the damn thing.

They watched the creature thrash around wildly in the bear trap, writhing against the jagged metal. Without wasting a second, Steve and Y/N rushed into the hallway. Jonathan fumbled in his pockets, pulling out a lighter. With a flick, he ignited it, then hurled it toward the monster, flames catching instantly on the trail of gasoline leading to the trapped beast.

The entire hall erupted into flames, the roar of the fire deafening. Heat blasted into their faces, singeing their skin and filling the air with the acrid smell of burning. The group shielded their eyes from the intense light, watching in horror as the Demogorgon writhed within the flames, its agonizing shrieks piercing the air.

Jonathan bolted from the hall and returned with a fire extinguisher, dousing the flames. A thick, white fog enveloped the hall, causing them to cough and squint against the harsh chemical mist. As the smoke cleared, they cautiously approached the bear trap in the charred hall, hearts pounding. The monster had disappeared, and no trace of it was left in the trap.

“Where the hell did it go?” Nancy’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper.

“It has to be dead—it has to be,” Jonathan panted, his eyes frantically scanning the space where the monster had been.

“Jesus—do you think it just melted into the fire or something?” Y/N grimaced, looking at leftovers of rancid skin melting on the trap’s metal. Suddenly, the Christmas lights hanging above them began to flicker to life softly, a section at a time toward the group as if something was walking in their direction. 

Everyone’s heart stopped, the question lingering in their mind whether the monster had survived on the other side. They backed up cautiously as the light slowly approached them, but something was different about it—the energy was calmer.

“Do you think that’s it?” Steve questioned, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I—I don’t know, it seems…” Jonathan tried to find the right words, stuttering slightly. “Different.” Y/N finished the boy's sentence. The lights then continued and crossed over the group’s heads, a trail of electricity lighting up toward the front door. They followed the light outside on the porch, watching a street light in the distance flicker off and on as they caught their breath, slight relief filling the air around them.

“Where’s it going?” Nancy murmured, watching the faint light in the distance.

“I don’t think that’s the monster.” Jonathan’s eyes narrowed as the group shared uneasy glances.

Realization dawned on Y/N, her eyes widening. “Hopper and Joyce.” 

Nancy turned to her, concern etched on her expression. “Do you think they’ve found Will?” 

“I sure as hell hope so,” Y/N sighed, letting out a shaky breath she didn’t know she was holding.

After a few moments of silence, the group began to retreat inside the house, but Y/N lingered on the porch. She gripped the railing and let her nerves settle, attempting to ground herself. Nancy and Jonathan made it inside, but Steve hesitated—pausing in front of the doorway, concern flickering in his eyes.

“You coming inside?” Steve’s voice was gentle, almost hesitant as Y/N stood on the edge of the porch, her gaze fixed on the shadowed woods. Her back was to him, shoulders tense, a slight tremble betraying her steady stance.

“Y/N?” he murmured, resting a firm but careful hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

Y/N turned slowly, wiping at her eyes. For a fleeting moment, Steve thought he’d caught her crying—but then he saw the spark of a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. Suddenly, she burst out laughing. She knows she shouldn’t, it’s absurd—but she couldn’t help it. Steve blinked, then found himself chuckling too, shaking his head. 

"Holy shit! I can't believe Steve Harrington just saved my life from a fucking monster!" Y/N exclaimed, her laughter infectious as her nervous system took over.

Steve smirked, looking out into the dark. "Oh boy, what would you do without me?” He muttered, shaking his head as he leaned against the porch frame beside her.

Y/N rolled her eyes, still grinning. “Guess I’d be a goner,” she replied, shoving her hands in her pockets. But as her laughter faded, a quiet settled between them, and she found herself glancing at him, studying the faint bruises and scratches on his face. "Didn’t think you’d come back, honestly.”

He could feel Y/N’s eyes on him. “Honestly, I didn’t think I would either,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “When I saw the lights flickering in the house… I was frozen. Part of me wanted to run, to save myself.” He paused, furrowing his eyebrows together as he softly shook his head.

“But then I thought about all of you inside. I guess it was finally time to stop thinking about myself for once.” He met Y/N’s eyes, hoping she could see the sincerity in his words.

“I get it, actually,” Y/N spoke, and Steve glanced at her, surprised. “You saved my life, Steve. I don’t know how to thank you for that. I know it’s not easy—showing up like this. Especially when people don’t expect it of you.”

He nodded, letting out a small sigh. “I mean… everyone’s got me pegged as this guy, right? King Steve,” he quotes, “the guy who throws parties, dates pretty girls, and looks good doing it. No one asks for more, and it’s easier to just… live up to it,” He paused, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“But I’m tired of everyone acting like they know me better than I know myself, especially my old man. Maybe if I look good enough on the outside, it’ll cover up all the other shit, y’know?” He spoke as he fidgeted with his hands.

Y/N’s gaze softened, her own expression guarded. “Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one who’s had to play pretend.”

Steve looked at her, his curiosity piqued, and she hesitated before going on. “After my mom died, my dad was never himself again. He… wasn’t the type you’d want around. So, I learned early on that letting people in only gets you hurt.”

“Sounds familiar, but that’s not always true,” Steve murmured, their eyes locking in a long, weighted silence. After a moment, Y/N broke it, her tone soft but genuine. “For what it’s worth, you’re not so bad after all, Harrington.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re not too shabby yourself, Smith,” he replied, a small smile creeping onto his face as they leaned against the porch frame, earning a chuckle from the girl.

“Friends?” Steve straightened up, turning to face Y/N, his hand outstretched with a hopeful expression.

“Friends,” Y/N nodded, meeting his gaze as she took his hand in a firm shake. Y/N was grateful she finally got to see him—not Steve “the asshole” Harrington and most definitely not Steve “the king” Harrington.

Just Steve.

𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥

The moment the teens arrived at the hospital after receiving word Will was rescued, Jonathan was the first to sprint inside, rushing to ask reception where his little brother was. He was the only one who could see Will being immediate family, so the others retreated to the waiting room.

Nancy was the first to rush inside when she spotted her family, with Mike running from his seat and colliding into her embrace, almost knocking the girl down. “What happened?” Nancy held the boy’s shoulders, watching as his lips quivered and tears filled his eyes.

“El…” He looked up at his sister, until she pulled him into another tight embrace, holding the back of his head in an attempt to comfort him. The look in his eyes said it all—Eleven was gone.

The girl who helped them find Will was gone. That stung at Y/N’s heart—she’d only met her briefly, but she knew someone that young didn’t deserve what she went through. It wasn’t fair.

“We should go sit, yeah?” Steve’s voice broke through Y/N’s focus, gesturing toward the empty seats in the waiting room, his voice gentle. The girl nodded absently, before scanning the room once more—her heart plummeting to her feet. Hopper was nowhere to be found. 

Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway behind her. She turned, her heart leaping as she recognized the man. It was the Chief of Police—Hopper, approaching with a weary but relieved expression. “Hey, kiddo,” he spoke softly, his eyes filled with relief at the sight of the girl.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise and without hesitation she made quick, raced steps toward the man, her footsteps echoing in the corridor. She collided with Hopper, wrapping her arms around him tightly, as if he were her lifeline.

"I was so scared," she whispered, her voice slightly trembling.

Hopper held the girl close, his own emotions threatening to swell within him. "It's okay, I'm right here. I’m not planning on going anywhere, kid." He reassured her, his hand holding the back of Y/N’s head. They stood there, holding each other—grateful to find each other in one piece.

Y/N didn’t know what she would do if she lost him.

Suddenly, voices broke the stillness from inside the waiting room. “Guys, guys! He’s awake! Will’s awake!” Mike shouted, excitement spilling from him as he gathered his friends. Y/N pulled back from Hopper and watched as they bolted from their seats past her, turning a corner and sprinting to Will’s room. 

She was beyond grateful the boy was okay. Though the guilt still lingered in the back of her mind—if she had stayed with Will, and insisted on biking him home, none of this would have happened. No one would be hurt.

She was pulled out of her thoughts as Nancy suddenly brushed past her. She looked pale and fragile, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she hurried down the hall. Y/N glanced at Hopper, then at her friend disappearing around the corner.

“I’ll go check on her,” she murmured, concern pulling her forward.

Hopper gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be in the waiting room, kid.”

Y/N nodded, then followed after Nancy, her footsteps echoing softly in the quiet corridor. She rounded the corner just in time to see the girl heading toward the restrooms. Before Nancy could slip inside, Y/N called out gently, “Nancy?”

The girl turned around, her expression bitter and eyebrows knit together. “Are you okay?” Y/N asked gently, her arms crossing over her chest as she studied her friend’s face.

Nancy hesitated, her eyes flickering away from her friend’s. “Yeah, it’s just…” she trailed off, pausing. “I wish Barb were here, too,” she finally admitted, her voice trembling. The words hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the friend they had lost. 

Barb was gone. 

Y/N’s chest tightened, feeling the ache behind Nancy’s words. “Me too. I’m so sorry,” she said softly, stepping closer. She unfolded her arms, reaching out to pull Nancy into a comforting embrace. They held each other in silence, Nancy clinging tightly, as if afraid to let go of the last person who could understand her loss.

After a long moment, Nancy pulled back, her eyes clouded with guilt. She looked down, unable to meet Y/N’s gaze. “It was my fault,” she whispered, almost as if admitting it to herself.

“Nancy—” Y/N began, ready to reassure her, that she didn’t deserve to take on that kind of guilt. But Nancy shook her head, cutting her off.

“You don’t understand,” she continued, her voice thick with regret. “Steve invited us to a party. I didn’t want to go alone, so I… I made Barb come with me. I thought it would be fun—just one night.” She bit her lip, voice wavering. 

“But then… I ditched her. I ditched her to be with him, and I didn’t even realize she was gone until it was too late.” Her hand covered her mouth as she finished her sentence, as if speaking it made the guilt unbearable.

Y/N processed Nancy’s words, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. Nancy had never mentioned going to parties with Steve, much less bringing Barb along. She took a breath, her voice gentle but tinged with hurt. “Nancy… why didn’t you tell me?”

Nancy finally met her gaze, eyes wet with unshed tears. “Because I left her alone. I was supposed to be her friend, and I just… left her.” She paused, her eyebrows knit together. “I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive myself for that.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in the back of her throat. She could see the guilt etched on Nancy’s face, the way her hands trembled ever so slightly as she held back tears. What could she say to ease that kind of pain? Nothing felt right, nothing seemed enough.

An uneasy silence settled between them, thick and heavy. Finally, Nancy dropped her gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need a minute.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing quietly behind her, leaving Y/N standing alone in the empty hall.

Her stomach twisted. She knew Nancy’s pain, understood that kind of guilt—and hated there was nothing she could do to ease it. Losing someone like that wasn’t a wound that healed, it was the kind that lingered, carving a mark that would stay with a person forever.

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟒𝐭𝐡 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟑

Soft snow fell gently over Hawkins, blanketing the trees in pristine white. The night had settled in, bringing a cold chill that lingered in the crisp winter air. Christmas lights and decorations adorned neighborhood houses, bringing the holiday spirit. Jonathan and Y/N arrived at the Wheeler’s for a quick hello, and to pick up Will.

The harsh chill bit at Y/N underneath her jacket, and she folded her arms for warmth as Jonathan knocked on the front door. After a moment, Mrs. Wheeler greeted them, her face lighting up in a broad smile. “Jonathan! Y/N! Merry Christmas, come in!” Her voice was warm and familiar, instantly making them feel at home.

The pair thanked Mrs. Wheeler as they stepped inside, the warm air greeting them as they brushed snow off their jackets. Jonathan made light footsteps past the kitchen toward the basement to retrieve Will, but Y/N lingered at the entrance of the home, hesitating. She glanced inside the kitchen, seeing Mrs. Wheeler’s baked Christmas goods made with love. 

The girl took in a deep breath before treading toward the basement. As she turned a corner, about to follow Jonathan's path, she nearly bumped into Steve, who had appeared in the hallway. His hands were tucked awkwardly in his pockets, and he looked as though he'd been waiting for her. "Hey," he said, voice low.

“Hey,” Y/N breathed, meeting Steve’s gaze. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Truth is, ever since Will had been brought back home, nothing had been the same between any of them.

A few weeks after Will returned home, Y/N had been certain that Jonathan and Nancy would get together, though it never happened. She wasn't entirely sure why, there were a countless amount of reasons—but she saw how it crushed the boy when he and Y/N spotted Nancy and Steve making out in the school hallway, almost as if nothing bad had ever happened.

And Y/N would be lying if she said it didn't crush something in her, too. Steve and Nancy looked happy, sure. Happy in a way that made her feel both relieved and, unexpectedly—a little hollow. 

“I, uh, never got the chance to thank you—for what you said. That day in the alley, you know, the fight with Jonathan.” Steve tumbled over his words as he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at Y/N who gave a tight smile.

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, swallowing. “I’m really glad everything worked out for you, Steve.” 

An awkward silence stretched between them, neither of them quite knowing how to bridge the gap. Finally, Y/N cleared her throat, stepping away. "I should probably get going," she muttered, turning to wait for Jonathan and Will at the front door.

But before she could leave, Steve’s voice stopped her.

“Y/N?” He called out, stopping her in her tracks. She paused, glancing back at him.

"I'm... sorry," he began, his voice steady but filled with sincerity. “For everything. I shouldn’t have broken Jonathan’s camera, and I shouldn’t have said those things back in the alley. I was wrong.” His words hung in the air, and when Y/N met his gaze, she saw something genuine in his eyes, just like that night at the Byers house.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Is King Steve realizing he might not be a king after all?” She teased, watching with amusement as he winced at the nickname, waving her off.

"Please, don’t call me that," he groaned, rolling his eyes as he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. "And, uh, Carol and Tommy? Yeah, they turned out to be real assholes." 

Y/N shrugged, her tone light but knowing. “You were an asshole, Steve Harrington.” She pointed a finger at the boy’s chest, before giving him a slight, playful shove.

Steve’s shoulders slumped slightly as he gave a small, regretful shrug. “I guess we all were, and I’m sorry.” Y/N’s lips curved into a grin as she met his gaze, her eyes softening. “Apology accepted.”

Steve nodded, the corners of his mouth pulling into a small, genuine smile, one that reached his eyes. “Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he said quietly, his tone almost shy.

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” she replied, her smile lingering for a moment longer before she turned, heading for the front door—giving the boy one last glance over her shoulder.

As Y/N made her way past the kitchen with the scent of Mrs. Wheeler's baked goods filling the air, she spotted Jonathan and Will waiting near the front door. She was about to continue when Nancy suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, a neatly-wrapped gift clutched tightly to her chest.

"Jonathan, wait up!" Nancy called out, her voice urgent as she hurried down the stairs toward him.

She stopped in front of Jonathan, a bright, warm smile spreading across her face. "Merry Christmas," she said, holding out the neatly wrapped gift to him. Jonathan hesitated, looking from the gift to her, his fingers brushing the wrapping before he took it, still unsure.

"Thanks, but—I didn’t get you anything. I feel bad," he admitted, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he looked down at the gift in his hands.

Nancy waved it off with a soft laugh. "No, it’s not really a present," she said, her tone light as she shrugged. "It’s… well, you’ll see."

Jonathan's brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face as he glanced at the gift in his hands, unsure what she meant. Before he could respond, Nancy stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his chest. She leaned in and pressed a quick, unexpected kiss to his cheek. Jonathan blinked, his face flushing deeper as he pulled back slightly—caught off guard by the gesture.

Y/N took a quiet step forward, her presence breaking the tension. She met Nancy’s gaze as she stood beside Jonathan, offering a small, awkward smile. Her eyes flickered briefly between the pair before cutting through the silence. “Merry Christmas, Nancy.”

“Merry Christmas. I’ll see you guys later,” She gave a small smile before walking off toward the living room, sharing one last glance with Jonathan. He then looked toward Y/N and Will with a slight blush left on his cheeks, “you guys ready?”

Inside Jonathan’s car, Y/N sat in the back seat, her arms wrapped tightly around herself in an attempt to ward off the chill that crept in through the windows as the car warmed up, with a soft, steady snowfall creeping outside. Will sat in the passenger seat, his gaze darting between Jonathan and the small present nestled in his lap.

“I’ll drop you back off at Hopper’s, Y/N. We all buckled up?” Jonathan asked, his voice warm despite the cold.

Y/N nodded, offering him a grateful smile. “That sounds good, thank you.” Her eyes lingered on Jonathan for a moment, meeting his gaze with a flicker of appreciation before he turned back to the steering wheel and started the engine.

“Yep,” Will chimed in from the front seat, giving a quick nod. Then, his curiosity got the best of him, and he turned to the gift. “Can I open it?”

Jonathan grinned, a playful glint in his eye. “Yeah, sure.”

Will eagerly tore into the wrapping, his fingers quick and excited. As the paper fell away, the box inside was revealed—a brand-new, latest edition camera. He held it out so Jonathan could see, glancing at him with an awestruck smile. “Pretty cool,” The boy beamed, admiring the gadget.

Jonathan and Y/N exchanged knowing a look, both of them knowing exactly where it had come from.

Steve Harrington. 

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

As Jonathan’s car slowed to a stop outside Hopper’s trailer, Y/N pulled her jacket tightly around herself, bracing against the chilly night air. Snow was still falling, blanketing the ground and trees in white. The lake once flowing with water was now frozen solid. She thanked Jonathan, wishing him and Will a good night before closing the door softly behind her.

As Y/N entered the trailer, the warmth greeted her immediately, the fireplace crackling to life in the living room. There were a few holiday decorations Hopper had put up with Y/N, and a small Christmas tree lighting up the corner of the room. Hopper was sitting on the couch, his expression somber but soft, as if he’d been waiting for her. Y/N slipped off her coat, hanging it by the door, before approaching him.

“Hey, kid,” Hopper greeted her, his voice low, a hint of something weighing on it.

“Hey, Hopper,” she replied, offering him a faint smile as she took the seat across from him.

After a pause, the man cleared his throat. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but... Well, it’s been busy. So... I got some news.”

Y/N felt anxiety creep in the pit of her chest, settling itself inside her as she sat across from Hopper. If this was what she thought it was about, she had been pushing down the sickening thought for months. The anticipation gnawed at her. “News about...?”

“Your father,” Hopper said gently, watching the girl carefully.

Y/N’s breath caught in the back of her throat, her chest tightening. They’d been waiting to hear something since the court hearing. The silence from her father—Thomas, had been telling, but still, she’d clung to the hope that he’d at least care enough to reach out. 

She didn’t know what she would do if she had to go back to live with her father—knowing it would only be a certain amount of time before he snapped again and lost another job and they moved far away from Hawkins, a place where she had found a home, repeating the endless cycle once more.

He was still her father after all, but she was starting to wonder if maybe—just maybe, she could belong somewhere else—somewhere far away from him.

Hopper cleared his throat, breaking through the heavy silence settled between them. “He didn’t show up to the court hearing today.” 

Y/N’s heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach. Her father, ultimately, just let her go to the state. No explanation—didn’t show up for her, like she hadn’t even mattered. “What?”

Hopper watched her, his face gentle with understanding. “Listen, I know that’s hard to hear. It’s a hell of a thing someone could do.”

“Yeah, it’s just...” Y/N hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I thought he’d at least try, you know? I guess... I just hoped maybe he’d want me.”

Hopper’s expression softened further, a sadness in his eyes that mirrored hers. “Sometimes people are like that. Selfish. They don’t do what’s right, even when it’s right in front of them. But that doesn’t mean you’re not worth more than he could ever understand.”

Y/N’s lips trembled. She couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Listen, kiddo. I can pull a few strings, and keep you here as long as I can while you’re in custody of the state since your father didn’t show.” Hopper began, pausing as he observed the utter defeat etched on Y/N’s expression.

She didn’t want to leave this all behind—she couldn’t.

"And while you’re here,” Hopper continued, adjusting himself on the couch, rubbing his hand absently over his mustache, “we could talk about something more… permanent. Maybe adoption, if that’s something you’d want.”

"Adoption?" Y/N repeated, the word barely a whisper, her gaze meeting Hopper’s. 

“Yeah, kid.” Hopper gave the girl a warm smile—one that didn’t show itself too often. “And that’s if you’re comfortable with it, and of course, it’ll take time for both of us to think about it. Sound good to you?”

Y/N took a breath, feeling something in her chest finally settle. "That sounds… really good," she breathed, a genuine smile breaking through the uncertainty.

“I’m glad,” Hopper grinned through his mustache, leaning forward as he ruffled Y/N’s hair, his large hand playfully tousling it until she let out a small laugh, swatting his hand away before he spoke. “There’s something else I’ll fill you in on, too. Good news.”

Y/N glanced at him as she fixed her hair, trying to flatten down the frizz. “What is it?”

Hopper exhaled, glancing around as though to make sure they were really alone. “I’ve... been looking into a few things lately. Some sightings and rumors—small, but there might be something there,” he paused. “It’s about El.”

“El?” Y/N’s eyes widened. 

Eleven. The girl who had saved them all, the one they’d thought was gone forever.

Hopper nodded. “Nothing’s for sure. But, I’ve got a feeling she might still be out there… hanging on.”

And Y/N hoped he was right. It tugged at her heart. After everything Eleven had done for everyone—what she’d been through at her age… the girl deserved a second chance at life. It wasn’t fair.

"And you know... how have your dreams been, kid?" Hopper snapped Y/N out of thought, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

They hadn't exactly stopped, but they were better than the last few months, especially when everything was going on.

"Haven't been having very many lately," Y/N shrugged, "so it's been fine."

“Good. Guess we should call it a night, huh?” Hopper said finally, giving a tired stretch, his arms rising above his head. “Can’t be staying up all night waiting on miracles.”

Y/N chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She stood, brushing her hands against her jeans before glancing out the window where the snow continued to fall, blanketing the trailer in quiet white.

Hopper moved to stand by her, looking out into the dark, peaceful night. After a moment, he opened his arms in a rare invitation, his voice softening. “Merry Christmas, kid.”

Y/N looked up at him, a small smile spreading across her face as she stepped into his embrace. “Merry Christmas, Hopper.”

The truth is, nothing would be the same again. Y/N knew that. Between her life being at stake, and discovering monsters and superpowers are real against all odds—she didn’t need to ask for anything else. All she needed was right here, these people, in this town.

Maybe Hawkins wasn’t too terrible after all.

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[july-19th-club]

the last book grandma ever read was agatha christie's "murder on the orient express," which was also the first book my mother remembers getting from her as a gift and not a hand-me-down from her siblings.

one of her favorite 'isms' was 'all things in moderation,' but she also had a plaque in the kitchen when my aunts were growing up that read "you have to kiss a lot of horny toads before you find a prince" and another tchotchke that featured a cherub swinging on a length of twine that said "when you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and HANG ON." like every nonna on earth before her, she ushered us to dinner with a "mangia" - which was also what it said on her favorite apron.

the last picture taken of her was her first picture with her great-granddaughter ellie, who's two months old and named after her. it was the first and only time they met.

[rosesradio]

+

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 3. the accident

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel spend some time getting to know each other, but during dinner with Tommy and Maria, the truth comes out about your accident.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, mild description of head wound/stitches, flirting, clickers, violence and some descriptions of injuries/blood

WC: 10.4K

Series Masterlist

Two Weeks Later

"This place is a lot bigger than I thought. I feel like I see someone new every day."

"Well, your brain did a factory reset, so you kind of are seeing new people every day," Ellie joked at breakfast one morning. Joel had been scheduled on early morning patrol shifts lately, so it was just the two of you before Ellie's classes started. You felt bad, but you grew to enjoy these mornings with just her. She was easy to get along with and she didn't pester you constantly about your memory loss. It was like she just accepted it for what it was and moved on. Joel, on the other hand, was a different story.

"What are you doing today?" she asked, pushing away her bowl of oatmeal.

"I have to go get these stitches removed," you said, your fingers coming up to brush across your injured scalp. "Couldn't come any sooner. They are so itchy."

She hummed and crossed her arms. "Surprised Joel didn't wanna come with you. He's been hovering over you non-stop."

"Yeah, tell me about it," you muttered. When you caught the playful glean in her eye, you backtracked. "Not that I don't appreciate everything he's done for me, it's just..." you trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"It's just a lot?" she offered, and you nodded, relieved that she understood.

"I didn't exactly tell him, either," you said, dropping your gaze to pick at your cuticle in shame. "Every time I go to the clinic, he scares the shit out of that poor doctor."

She laughed softly and stretched her arms out behind her head. "Joel does that to people. He comes off like a pitbull but in reality? He's just a golden retriever."

A slow smile stretched across your face as you absorbed her words, then burst out laughing.

"That is-" you began, cutting yourself off with another laugh, "the most accurate description I could ever possibly think of."

"I've known him for a long time, what can I say?" she said with a grin while throwing her hands up in the air.

Your laughter died down as you stared at the table, lost in thought. Glancing up at Ellie, you decided to see what else she might shed some light on.

"Do you know of a Ben and Lisa?"

She froze and looked at you quizzically for a moment before dropping her hands back down onto the table.

"Yeah, do you remember them?"

"No, no," you said quickly, waving her off. "I kept a journal. Y'know, from before. And I was reading it the other day and I mentioned them. Are they around?"

Ellie glanced around the somewhat crowded room before meeting your eyes again. "No, not today. They don't really come out much," she said, examining you carefully. "They have a small house on the outskirts of town. They are... homebodies, I guess? I think they've been in here, like, twice, since you guys arrived."

"So, they came here with me?" you confirmed, and she nodded.

"Yeah, the three of you arrived together," she said. Her eyes glanced up and saw a few classmates heading out the front door. "I better go, school's starting soon," she said, pushing her chair back and grabbing her backpack.

"Yeah, okay," you said, sitting back in your chair. "Thanks, Ellie," you called after her, and she shot you a quick wave before running to catch up with her friends.

You wished you had more time to ask her about Ben and Lisa. Were they together? Were they siblings? Friends? How did you meet them? What did they know about your past?

The questions were piling up as you let your mind wander. You didn't even realize Maria, Tommy's wife, had approached your table until she said your name for the second time.

"Sorry," you told her, shaking your head.

She smiled and pulled out a chair, joining you at your now empty table. "Don't worry about it. I wanted to check on you. How have you been feeling?"

"Better," you said honestly. "I haven't needed the Tylenol really, so I'm going to bring the rest back to Nick this morning."

"That's fantastic," she said, leaning forward. She regarded you quietly for a moment before speaking again. "Any luck on your memories?"

You sighed and shook your head. It was inevitable - everyone eventually asked you the same question, either morbid curiosity or genuine concern encouraging them. And you tried not to let it bother you, you really did. But you couldn't help but feel like a failure every time when the answer was no.

And then Maria asked the next question everybody always asked.

"How's Joel handling everything?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Of course this was hard for him. It was hard for you, too, just in a different way.

"Alright, I guess."

"Are you two getting along? I know Tommy mentioned you were nervous-"

"Yeah," you said, cutting her off. "It was a little weird at first but it's not so bad now." You glanced around the dining hall, which was mostly empty. "Can you tell me a little bit about him? About us? I would ask Joel, but any time he tells me about some memory, I can see it hurts him. And I just can't stand to see that look in his eye again."

Maria gave you a sympathetic look and squeezed your hand. "I get it. It must be hard, I'm so sorry," she said, and you could feel the tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes.

"I just feel like I'm always letting him down," you said, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"You're not. Hey, look at me," she said, forcing you to drag your eyes up to meet hers. "You're not letting him down. He loves you. You have no idea how much. That man has been head over heels since the moment you met. He'd do anything for you-"

"I know, and that's what makes this so much worse!" you exclaimed. "I'm sitting around that house all day - our house - waiting for my brain to fucking work and give him the person he's waiting for and I just can't! I can't-" you slammed your palms flat on the table. "I can't fucking-" you buried your face in your hands as you tried to conceal your tears. Maria rubbed soothing circles on your back, giving you time to collect yourself.

"Sounds to me like you're going a little stir-crazy."

You dragged a shaky breath in and nodded, letting your hands fall to your lap.

"What if we got you assigned some work around town? Something light, nothing too strenuous. Would that help?" she asked softly, and your pulse began to return to normal.

"Yeah, I think that would be nice," you said, flashing her a small smile.

"Your choice, then," she said, pulling her hand back, "what are you good at or interested in? I figure stables are probably not a good idea. Tommy said you were having trouble riding. Is there anything you'd like to do?"

You pursed your lips and thought for a moment.

"I'm not sure... can I get back to you?" you asked, realizing once again that you knew very little about yourself.

"Of course," Maria said before standing up from her chair. "You know where to find me whenever you think of something. Or if you just want to talk... I'm here, okay?"

You gave her a watery smile before whispering your thanks, then watched her make her way towards the doors. You sighed and looked around, realizing you were the only one left after the breakfast rush, so you pushed yourself to your feet and followed Maria's footsteps. You had a few more hours before Joel was supposed to come back from patrol, so you decided to walk over to the infirmary and get your stitches removed.

The streets of Jackson were mercifully quiet. Most people were working and the kids were in school, so you didn't run into too many folks on your way towards the other end of town. You wrapped your arms around yourself a little tighter. The chill in the air still lingered from overnight, making you shiver. As you walked, you looked around at the buildings like you normally did, trying your hardest to shake loose a memory, or at this point, even a flicker of a moment, but nothing came.

You trudged up the steps to the infirmary and stepped inside, grateful to be back indoors where it was warm. A little bell rang above your head, announcing your presence, and a moment later you heard Nick's footsteps coming down the hallway. When he lifted his head and saw you, his eyes immediately scanned the room, searching for Joel.

"All alone today?" he asked, then motioned for you to follow him.

"Yeah, Joel's busy," you said, and you swore you could see his shoulders relax.

"I know the feeling," he said, standing next to an empty exam room and holding his arm out to his side, inviting you to enter first, so you did. "I've been trying to get around to doing inventory for weeks, but I'm swamped. Can't seem to find a quiet day," he continued as he opened and closed some cabinets. He pulled on a pair of gloves and opened a drawer for some scissors before placing it on a clean washcloth next to the bed and putting his glasses on.

"Oh, speaking of inventory," you said, leaning to the side so you could fish the pills out of your jeans pocket. You held them out to him with a smile. "Didn't need them all."

"Excellent. Thank you," he said, plucking the baggie from your fingers and setting them down on the counter next to the scissors. "Glad they helped. And again, I'm sorry I couldn't offer anything stronger-"

"Don't be sorry, I understand," you said, then tucked your chin into your chest so he could get a good look at the back of your head. He began to carefully snip away at the irritating thread, taking his time to pull each and every piece out without tugging too much on your skin. You noticed aside from the two of you, the office sounded quiet.

"All alone today, too?" you asked.

"Yes, unfortunately," he said with a sigh. "My aide, Monica, got poached from me. They needed someone on patrol since-" he cut himself off and cleared his throat, and you frowned before you realized what he was about to say.

"Since they had to replace me," you finished for him.

"Yes."

Your lips pressed into a thin line as Nick continued to work away at your stitches. Another casualty in the hurricane that your accident seemed to cause.

"Hey, what if I helped you?" you blurted out, and his hands paused.

"You want to be my aide?"

"Sure. Well, do I need any medical knowledge? I don't know much, but I can help you with inventory or cleaning instruments or... whatever else you might need."

You could sense his hesitation without even having to see his face and you knew in an instant he was thinking about Joel.

"Maria approached me this morning about a job. She said it would be good for me and I agreed. But if I'm not qualified, I understand-"

"No, no, it's not that," he said, and you rolled your eyes. Of course not.

"Joel isn't the boss of me," you said after a moment. He stepped backwards and you lifted your head up to look at him.

"He's an intimidating man," Nick said by way of explanation. He snapped his gloves off and tossing them in the trash. "Why don't you run it by him first? As a favor to me?" he added with a half smile. You sighed and nodded before sliding off the bed.

"Sure, I'll talk to him when he gets back," you agreed, following Nick towards the front door. You thanked him before heading back down the street, your fingers gingerly tracing your closed wound before you shoved your hands into your pockets.

How the hell could one man manage to scare half the town the way Joel Miller did? You thought you were beginning to see a glimmer of the man underneath the hardened exterior, but what on earth drew you to him in the first place? What did your past self see in him that made you so enamored? And why couldn't you see it now? You were afraid the answer didn't so much lie with Joel, but with you.

You desperately needed to discover more of the person you were before your accident. Maybe then you would get some more insight.

When you got back to Joel's house, you decided to take what little quiet time you had left and read some more of your journal. As the sun rose in the sky, the day began to heat up a bit, taking away that frigid chill in the air, so you cracked a window in his living room and curled up on a worn out, but very comfortable, arm chair.

You flipped through the pages, your eyes landing on the last entry you read: Joel lied to me.

You never asked him about it. Either you were too afraid of the answer or you were too afraid he wouldn't tell the truth. At first, you tried to convince yourself that it was nothing. That maybe you had just gotten into a fight on that particular day and you were mad. But seeing how sporadically you had updated the journal, you got the feeling you wouldn't have written it unless it was important.

And why wouldn't you have elaborated? What could it have been? Something that was so serious, you didn't want to risk putting it down in writing?

You hadn't realized how long you were staring at those four words until you heard Joel's heavy footsteps climbing up the stairs of the porch. You snapped the book shut and looked up just as he opened the door. His dark eyes found you immediately and, as usual, you saw what you always saw - relief in seeing you again, the joy one had when they saw their other half, the attraction a man has for the one he loves.

Damn him and his expressive eyes.

"Hey," you said with a small smile, "how was patrol?"

"Not too bad," he replied, kicking off his boots. "Quiet. No infected. Me 'n Alex made short work of our route," he said, strolling over to collapse into the couch next to your chair. He rubbed his eyes with a deep sigh, his head resting on the back of the couch.

"Tired?"

"Yeah," he said, dropping his hand to his lap and rolling his head in your direction. "Glad I got tomorrow off. Maybe we can do somethin' together."

"Yeah, okay," you agreed. Maybe it would be a good opportunity to learn more about him without directly asking. His eyes drifted down to the journal in your lap and he jutted his chin towards it.

"Read anythin' interesting?"

Looking down at it for a brief moment, you thought about asking him what he lied about, but you ultimately decided against it.

"Yeah, actually," you said, flipping a different page open. "I wrote about a Ben and Lisa. Ellie told me we arrived together and they keep to themselves," you continued, looking up at him. His expression was unreadable. "Maybe I should pay them a visit one of these days. Maybe they can tell me a little about myself before-"

"Yeah, maybe," he said suddenly, then stood up to head towards the kitchen. You frowned, your eyes following him as he filled a glass of water. When he turned back to you, you were still looking at him, waiting for him to say something else.

"Why don't you give it a little time before you go seein' them," he suggested after downing his water in one gulp.

"It's been two weeks," you said quietly, "how much more time should I give it?" He shrugged and strolled back into the living room, leaning against the doorframe.

"What'dya wanna know?" he asked, avoiding your question. "I know you better than anyone. I can answer your questions."

"I didn't know you the whole ten years, though," you reminded him, unfolding your legs from the chair. "It sounds like they knew me longer. I just thought they could tell me how I survived-"

"For what?" he snapped, and his tone took a sudden turn. When you met his gaze again, the warmth was gone, and in its place was a face of stone. "What does that matter?" he asked, his voice rising a little. "You're here, you did what you had to do. We all did. What's the point in rehashin' it?"

"What's the point?" you repeated, bewildered. "The point is so I can learn about myself. So I can figure out the person I became, the person you fell in love with!"

Something flickered across his face for a brief moment before his eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed.

"You're right, I'm sorry," he said, the edge to his voice now gone. "I'll take you to see 'em one of these days. We'll go together. I haven't seen 'em in a while myself. It'd be good to catch up," he added.

"Okay," you said slowly, "thank you." He took a deep breath and angled his head towards the stairs.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower," he mumbled, and you nodded, your eyes following him up the steps until he disappeared around the corner.

Joel Miller was an incredibly difficult man to figure out. Just when you thought you knew who he was, he did something like that and it made you second guess yourself. You had determined that aggressive side came out when he was protecting the ones he loved. So who was he protecting this time?

"What'dya wanna do today?" Joel asked you around a mouthful of eggs from across your kitchen table.

"Um, I don't know," you said, pushing your food around on your plate uncomfortably. You thought spending time alone with him was a good idea, but when you woke up that morning, you felt nervous. "Did you have anything in mind?"

He sat back in his chair and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "If you were feelin' up for it, thought I could take you outside the walls a bit. Maybe teach you how to ride again."

You perked up at his suggestion. For some reason, you didn't consider leaving Jackson as an option.

"Yeah, that sounds great," you said with a grin, and his chest warmed at the sight. He missed seeing you smile. Then he remembered something that might make you smile again. He stood up quickly, his chair sliding back across the hardwood floor, and walked over to his backpack, still hanging by the door from yesterday.

"What are you doing?" you called after him, but he didn't reply until he reentered the room with his hands behind his back.

"Forgot I gotcha somethin' when I was out yesterday," he said, trying to bite back his smile. It didn't even occur to him until the last second that you might not like what he was about to give you, that maybe your tastes were different ten years ago, but it was too late now. Nervously, he held out two worn paperback books. You stood up with a curious look on your face and took them in your hands, your eyes running over the covers quickly before turning them over and reading the backs. He shifted his weight as he anxiously waited for your reaction, and when he was rewarded with another huge smile, he couldn't hold his own back.

"These sound great," you told him, glancing at the books again. "I love mysteries, this is..." you met his eyes briefly before shyly looking back down. "This is so thoughtful of you, Joel. Thank you."

He beamed with pride, thrilled that he was able to do something nice for you. "You're welcome, ba- ahem," he coughed, stopping himself from finishing his sentence. You looked back up at him, heat creeping up both of your necks. He cleared his throat and turned around, picking up your plates. "You're welcome," he said again, "thought you might be gettin' bored 'round here."

He rinsed the plates in the sink before heading towards the front door. You put your two books on the counter and trailed after him, the both of you sliding on your boots and jackets. Joel grabbed his backpack before opening the door for you and he followed you down the porch steps.

"Yeah, I'm definitely getting a little bored," you said, eyeing him up as you walked side by side towards the stables. "But speaking of that, I was talking to Maria yesterday and she suggested I get a job." His head swiveled over to you, lips parted in surprise, but before he could speak, you continued. "She said I can pick whatever I want, nothing too strenuous."

He nodded and looked straight ahead again, your words rolling around in his head. "Yeah, suppose that makes sense."

"Good," you said, pleased he was open to the idea. "So when I was at the infirmary yesterday, Nick mentioned-"

"Why were you at the infirmary? Were you in pain? Did you get hurt?"

"Joel, I was fine," you said with a huff. You pointed to the back of your head. "I had my stitches removed."

He stopped in his tracks, which made you skid to a halt. His arms reached out to lift up your hair but at the last second, he held back.

"Can I?" he asked over your shoulder, and you nodded. He gingerly lifted up your hair to take a look at your injury, which felt much better now that the stitches were gone.

"Made showering so much easier," you told him. He hummed and dropped your hair.

"Looks good," he said, and continued walking. "You shoulda waited, I woulda went with you," he added.

"It took ten minutes," you said, waving him off as the stables came into view. "But while I was there, Nick mentioned his aide got reassigned to patrol to fill my old position, so I offered to take her place."

"You wanna work at the infirmary?" he asked, and you shrugged.

"I don't know much, but he said I didn't need to. He just needs help around the office. Cleaning up, taking inventory, maybe help him with some minor procedures. Hand him tools and all that," you said, and Joel nodded slowly.

"Alright," he said, "if that's what you wanna do, sure."

And although you weren't asking for his permission, it felt like you got it, anyway.

As you got closer to the stables, the high pitched whinny of a horse in a nearby paddock caught both your attention. The horse looked smaller - younger - and was attached to a long rope, and in the center of the field holding the other end was a man around Joel's age. Even from a distance, you could see the clench in his jaw and the way his muscles strained to rein in the animal, but he was losing the fight. The horse was too young and too strong and kept pulling away, getting as far away from the man as possible before the lead went taught and the horse was forced to face the man again. Each time it happened, the horse let out a shrill whinny and stomped its hooves in the dirt, expressing its displeasure.

"That's Caleb," Joel said as you both paused to watch. "Must be breakin' in a yearling."

"Breaking in?" you asked, your eyes still glued to the horse, whose head was twisting around angrily, trying to break free.

"It means he's tryin' to tame her so we can ride her," he explained, and you nodded. You both leaned up against the fence and watched the beautiful animal rear up and then dig its hooves deeper into the dirt, dust kicking up into a cloud around them. Caleb was struggling. Sweat was dripping down his face as he tugged on the lead and shouted commands at the horse, but she was having none of it.

The horse's whinnies were becoming louder and more panicked. The whites of her eyes showed when Caleb attempted to get closer, his skin tight over his knuckles from holding onto the rope. Once Caleb got close enough, the horse swung its massive head around in the air then reared back again with all its might, pulling Caleb off his feet unexpectedly with a shout.

"Shit," Joel muttered. He gripped the top rail of the fence and hauled himself over before you could even process what was happening. You watched, eyes wide, as Joel ran into the middle of the field, his arms raised up high over his head to keep the horse from stomping on Caleb.

"Hey! Hey!" you heard Joel's booming voice shout at the animal, drawing her attention off Caleb. The horse charged at Joel, but swerved away at the last second. Joel turned around and gave Caleb a hand, dragging him to his feet before the horse made its way back to where they stood.

"Hey," Joel said, softer this time, but his arms still stretched out in front of him. The horse skidded to a stop a few feet away, snorting and pawing at the dirt, its long tail flicking back and forth. Caleb stood and dusted himself off before taking a few steps backwards to catch his breath, but Joel remained in the same spot. He stared down the animal, the two of them silently sizing the other up. Joel's voice rang out again, just as soft as before. "Hey, shh, girl," he said, relaxing his stance a bit.

You stood cemented to the ground, entranced, as you watched the stand off between man and beast. Joel didn't look scared. He barely even flinched when the horse let out another high pitched squeal. He stood tall and firm, refusing to back down, and patiently waited for the horse to come to him.

He left his arm outstretched as an olive branch, his eyes never leaving the horse. He murmured low, soothing noises until it took a tentative step forward. Joel nodded encouragingly and continued to speak softly, earning him another step.

You felt a stirring low in your stomach as you continued to watch, with your jaw slack and your breaths shallow. Joel finally reached out and grabbed the lead, then ran the flat of his hand slowly up and down the horse's nose, giving it a little scratch between the eyes, and you clenched your thighs together.

After a few minutes of Joel calmingly murmuring to the horse, he handed the rope back to Caleb, who expressed his deepest gratitude before carefully leading the filly back towards the stables. Joel turned back towards you, dusting his hands off as he walked. Your cheeks felt warm by the time he made it to the other side of the fence and climbed over.

"That was..." you trailed off, not sure what to say. He smirked at you as he leaned down to pick his backpack up. "That was really impressive," you finally squeaked out. Unbeknownst to you, he could see right through you. He'd known you for too long and he especially knew what you looked like when you were aroused. He eyed you up and down before nodding towards the stables.

"It's 'bout respect and patience. You get what you give," he explained as he wiped away some sweat that formed on the back of his neck. Your mouth went dry at the sight.

"H-have you done that before?"

"What, break in wild animals?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at you, and you nodded. If he didn't already clock the way you were reacting, he wouldn't have said what he said next. "No. Only you."

You choked on your laughter and he grinned.

"I hardly think I can compare to a wild horse," you said, your cheeks on fire.

"You're right. Tamin' you was harder."

"I thought I was the one who confronted you about sneaking around? Which is it?" you teased as you followed him into the barn, the scent of hay and leather and the sound of horses gently snorting in their stalls invading your senses.

"Oh, you did. You just didn't like sneakin' 'round. Took a lot longer to make you fall in love and move in with me," he said. He walked up to a list pinned to a clipboard and scribbled his name inside an empty slot.

"Mm, and you really think you can do it again?" you asked, trying to sound doubtful but your smile gave you away. He glanced down at you, leaning against the wall for a moment, his eyes lingering on your lips and cheeks before chuckling.

"Oh, absolutely," he said lowly, and you felt your heart flutter in your chest.

"Alright, Casanova. Let's get a move on," you said, rolling your eyes and turning away, but not before he caught the excited glint in your eye.

Thank god for Joel's backpack.

That was the only thing separating you two as you clung to him from behind as he steered your borrowed horse through the woods. It was peaceful. Serene, even. It was hard to believe so many horrible things happened, and were still happening, in this world when you were surrounded by such beauty. And you might have been able to appreciate it more if you weren't so utterly distracted by your body's reaction to Joel. You couldn't imagine what you would be thinking and feeling if there wasn't a buffer between you. Had you been able to feel each and every strong muscle in his back and shoulders, or the heat rolling off him, or fully commit to memory his very unique and intoxicating scent.

No, luckily you had some distance, and by the time he reached the field he was looking for, you felt like you had regained your senses. You brushed off your earlier reaction to your hormones and nothing more by the time you slid down from the horse and joined Joel on the ground.

"It's so quiet out here," you remarked, looking around and shrugging off your jacket. By now, the sun had risen high enough in the sky to warm everything up around you, the frosty morning air long since melted away. Joel tied the reins of your horse around a tree trunk and took off his own jacket, slinging it over the saddle.

"We used to come out here a lot," was all he said, avoiding your eyes. You looked around again, trying to find something familiar. He could tell what you were doing and he shook his head.

"Don't try to force it, it ain't gonna do any good," he said, and you looked over at him, surprised.

"Sorry. I'm really trying," you said softly, looking down at the dirt. He looked at you sadly, just for a moment when your attention was on your shoes, then forced a smile across his face.

"C'mon, I wanna show you somethin'."

You followed him through the thinning trees towards the open field; the grass waist high as you hiked through it together, cicadas singing all around you as you walked. The sun was growing more powerful, but you weren't uncomfortable.

"This is my favorite time of year," you told him, and he glanced over at you. "It's not too hot, not too cold."

He smiled and looked straight ahead once again. "I know. You like warm days and cold nights."

"That's right," you said, pressing your lips together and wondering if there would ever be anything you could tell him that he didn't already seem to know. "You have a good memory."

"When it comes to you, yeah."

Joel held out an arm to stop you, your face angled towards the ground as you walked so you wouldn't trip. You looked up when you ran into his arm, first at him, and then at the scenery before you.

It was breathtaking. Somehow, without even realizing it, you were on top of a mountain. Or, close to it, anyway. Near the edge, you looked around and saw other hills and valleys surrounding you, green and lush and full of life. A flock of blackbirds swooped by straight ahead, and way down below, between all the jagged rocks, was a little lazy river.

"This is beautiful," you breathed, your eyes glistening. Joel studied your face while you were distracted, his eyes never once looking at the nature surrounding you.

"Yeah, I know," he whispered. You dragged your eyes away from the view and gave him a dazzling smile, one that made his chest ache, before sitting down at the edge of the grass with a sigh.

"Okay. What do you miss most about your life before?" you asked him out of the blue. His stomach lurched, his mind immediately filled with thoughts of a little girl with curly hair and dark brown eyes that once made him finally understand the true meaning of unconditional love.

"Barbeques," he choked out, hoping you didn't pick up on his mood shift.

"Mm, that's a good one," you said dreamily, still staring out over the edge of the cliff. "What was your favorite part?"

He felt himself relax a bit as you forced his mind to shift gears. "The music. The food. Just... lazy weekends, hangin' out with friends or family. Spendin' time with people I cared 'bout."

"What's your favorite barbeque food?" you asked, pulling your knees up to your chest and turning your head towards him.

He thought about it for a moment, his daughter's memory drifting back into the recesses of his mind. "Ribs. Or maybe burgers. Tough call," he said with a chuckle. You slapped the side of your leg and turned your whole body towards him excitedly.

"Oh, my god. Speaking of ribs. My brother - Matty - one time he was in an 'all you can eat' ribs competition," you said, a grin already pulling at the corners of your mouth. "He was like, 22 at the time and he could really pack food away. Like, really eat. It scared the shit outta my mom, she had no idea how he did it and still stayed so trim," you said, and Joel chuckled. "Anyway, he entered this contest and all of the other contestants were these, like, huge guys. I'm talking pushing 300 pounds huge, right?" you said, the excitement evident in your voice now as your eyes shone bright, making Joel smile even more. "So, anyway, one by one these guys are dropping like flies and my brother just kept mowing down all these ribs like it was nothing. It was down to him and one other guy and the other guy looked like he was about to tap out. The prize was like, a thousand bucks, and we were all getting so damn excited. He was gonna win!" you said, your voice getting louder the more excited you became. Seeing you that happy for the first time in weeks made Joel's heart feel like it was going to burst, so he played along and urged you on. "Then, Matty freezes. And I'm staring at him. And he's just staring down at his hands, and we're all like 'what the hell is he doing?' and suddenly - woosh!" you said with a giggle, using your arms for emphasis. "He pukes everywhere! It was so fucking much, Joel! And it was so disgusting, oh my god. People were running from their seats and dry heaving, and me and my parents are fucking dying with laughter," you said, your giggles growing louder the more you remembered. You wiped a stray tear from the corner of your eye as you continued. "Anyway, of course he got disqualified and he never could be in the same room as a rack of ribs ever again," you finished, flashing him a grin. But when you saw his expression, although he was smiling and giving you some obligatory laughs, you could tell it wasn't the first time he had heard that story.

"You knew that already, didn't you?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. He smirked and looked down at his hands.

"Yeah," he admitted, and you groaned. "But it's still a real funny story. I love the way you tell it."

"I wonder if there's anything I didn't tell you," you said with a sigh. He inched a little closer when he heard the despair in your voice.

"It doesn't matter. I love hearin' everythin' 'bout you," he said, and you gave him a little smile. "You could tell me a hundred times and I wouldn't care."

He kept saying that word. Love. Over and over, like it was nothing. You looked away, his eye contact too intense all of the sudden, and stared out at the beauty before you. But you could still feel the heat of his gaze on your skin. It sent a shiver down your spine. Your mind raced, trying to think of something else to say when he softly whispered your name. You tilted your head in his direction and the look in his eye caused you to temporarily forget how to breathe. He was staring at you like you were the only other person in the world. Like you were a siren, calling to him on the sea, or Aphrodite, knocking him to his knees in prayer.

No, no, no, you thought as he leaned in a fraction, his eyes flicking down to your lips. Too soon. Not ready.

A blood curdling screech echoed from somewhere behind you. Somewhere far too close for comfort. You froze, eyes wide and scared, but Joel whipped around and reached into his backpack, pulling out his revolver and knife.

Stay here, he mouthed, pressing a finger to his lips, and you couldn't remember if you acknowledged him or not before he crouched and disappeared into the long grass, leaving you all alone on the edge of a very dangerous cliff with some terrifying monster nearby. Slowly, trying very hard not to make a sound, you turned your head, searching for the source of the noise. As you scanned the field, the tall grass hiding Joel somewhere in its depths, you spotted it. It, being the only proper word.

It was hideous. Fucking disgusting. Half its face was overgrown with fungus plates, its mouth wide and wet and dribbling with blood, teeth yellowed and bared. It hunched over as it got closer and closer to you, snapping its jaw like a lion, trying to locate its next meal. You swallowed roughly as it got closer, its torn clothes and bent fingers coming into view. And the smell. The stench of death and rot filled the air, completely ruining the beautiful backdrop you were admiring mere minutes ago. Your heart slammed wildly in your chest, your breathing unsteady and your hands shook violently. You had nothing to defend yourself. You looked to your side, wondering if you could push it over the cliff if necessary. Where was Joel?!

Just as it was about to clear the grass and step into the clearing, Joel leapt up behind the creature and stabbed it in the back of the head with a loud grunt. It collapsed in an instant, blood spilling from its skull as Joel stood over the corpse, shoulders and chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath.

"Oh my god," you whispered, your trembling hands coming up to cover your mouth as you stared at the lifeless body. You hadn't seen an infected alive yet. And they were far more terrifying than you ever imagined. Tears welled up in your eyes that you quickly tried to flick away, but Joel already noticed.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed with worry as he cleaned his knife off in the grass.

"Yeah," you replied shakily, still staring at the dead infected a few feet away. You slowly forced yourself to your feet and walked around it, only stopping when you were safely in the grass. With a grunt, Joel kicked the body closer and closer to the edge until it tumbled over. You winced as you heard its body faintly thudding and cracking against the rocks and branches below. He glanced over at you, your face screwed up with a mix of distaste and fear, and he sighed.

"Wanna just head back?"

"Yeah," you said, looking at the view once more before following him through the tall grass. "It was nice while it lasted, though."

The two of you trudged through the grass quietly, back towards the woods. He could tell you were shaken up and he inwardly cursed the clicker for ruining what could have ended up being a really nice day with you. A day where he thought he was making some progress. He made you smile and laugh and he definitely recognized that heated look in your eye back at the stables, but all of those memories suddenly seemed so distant. It wasn't until the horse came into view that he even remembered why he brought you out in the first place.

"You still wanna learn to ride?"

You looked up at him, your perfect lips parted ever so slightly. It made him want to grab your chin and press his mouth against yours so he could remember what you felt like again.

"Oh, sure," you said, glancing wearily over at the horse as you approached.

"Why don't you take the reins and I'll sit behind you," he offered as he untied the horse from the tree. "That way I can take over if you're feelin' too nervous."

"Okay..." you agreed slowly, realizing that meant he would be pressed up against you for the entire ride home. And this time, there wouldn't be a buffer.

He laced his fingers together and bent forward, offering you a boost. You got a good grip on the saddle and delicately placed your foot in his hands before he launched you upwards. You swung your leg over and shifted in the saddle a bit, looking down at the back of the horse's head. Its long ears flickered back and forth, trying to shoo away the flies.

You gasped when the saddle shifted slightly and Joel climbed up behind you. Your body stiffened and you stared straight ahead as he got himself comfortable. You tried to block it out, but when his arms wrapped around you from behind and took the reins from your grasp, you realized it would be impossible.

"This is how you wanna hold 'em, see?" he murmured softly in your ear, and you immediately felt goosebumps break out up and down your arms. He hadn't been this close before. Not even when he was examining your head wound. His exhale tickled the side of your neck and you realized his lips were dangerously close to your exposed skin. When it occurred to you that he had asked you a question, you blinked and snapped out of it.

"Yeah," you said, and you hoped he would think your hands were shaking because you were nervous to ride and nothing more.

"Now we're ridin' western, so when you steer, you wanna pull the reins across, like this," he said, demonstrating with his hands over yours, and just like that, the horse turned to the left. "And you just do the opposite if you wanna go the other way."

"Okay, makes sense," you replied, surprised you were actually following along.

"You want the horse to move, you gotta squeeze your legs. Gotta do it hard, though. It's a big animal, they can't feel you if you don't squeeze hard."

"Uh huh," you said, so you gave it a try. You squeezed your legs as hard as you could and the horse slowly lumbered forwards, and you squealed with excitement. "I did it!"

Joel chuckled behind you. You could feel the deep rumble through your back and the little puffs of air from his nose on your neck. It made you shudder, and you tried to pass it off like you were cold. The horse began to slowly walk back the way you came, through the trees and past a little stream, and the longer you walked, the more confident you became.

"This isn't so bad," you admitted, and you weren't sure if you were talking about Joel's embrace or riding the horse. You were growing used to his arms around you now, even though you didn't really need his hands to guide yours, you didn't say anything. It was... nice.

"How do I make it go faster?" you asked.

"Well, you can give her a little kick, or you can click your tongue. You remember how to click your tongue?"

You laughed a little and without thinking, you gave it a try. Clicking your tongue experimentally against your teeth sent the horse rushing forward. Just into a trot, but it still took you off guard. You gasped and leaned back into Joel's chest, looking to steady yourself so you wouldn't fall. You could feel him laughing behind you as he tightened his arms around your waist and gave the reins a gentle tug, slowing the horse back down to a walk.

"Not funny!" you exclaimed, but your smile gave you away.

He missed this. He really missed this. He missed holding you and laughing with you and spending time with you. What he wouldn't give to kiss you again. He ached for the way you tasted, the way you moaned underneath him, the feeling of your smooth skin under his rough palms. Every day that passed he felt like he was forgetting little by little, and the urge to remind himself, the urge to pull you into his arms and kiss you deeply and take you to bed with him was becoming more intense by the day.

But he had to be patient. He could be patient. You'd come around, one day. He was sure of it.

By the time you made it back to Jackson, you were feeling much more at ease. Maybe this is what you needed. Some time away with Joel, just the two of you, so you could learn more about him. You had to admit, you were beginning to see a very soft and sweet side to him that you only caught glimpses of in the past.

Before today, you hadn't been able to understand the attraction. He was good looking, you already knew that, but you also knew that couldn't have just been it. That wasn't enough to share a love for one another that he classified as rare and meant to be. Now, it was starting to become clearer. There was something inherently sexy about the way he handled himself. The confidence he had, which, at first, came off as cocky, you now viewed in a different light. After the way he handled the horse in the pasture and the clicker in the field, you were beginning to understand.

Joel Miller was a protector. He cared deeply and passionately for the ones he loved, and he stopped at nothing to defend them. Sometimes that love was misplaced as anger, and that's where he kept losing you.

He had asked if you felt up to joining Tommy and Maria at the dining hall for dinner, and even though you were a little tired from your outing, you agreed.

As you walked down the street together, he had to fight the impulse to hold your hand. He still noticed the way people looked at you, their curiosity over your now famous injury getting the best of them, but once they caught his eye they quickly averted their gaze. It angered him, he couldn't help it. He didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. You didn't deserve to be gawked at.

You followed Joel through the crowded hall once again, and just like before, the crowd naturally parted for him. He seemed to be making his way towards the back, towards the same table as before, only this time Tommy and Maria were already seated and waiting.

Maria greeted you with a hug and you gave Tommy a quick smile across the table before sitting down between her and Joel.

"Beautiful day out today," Maria said off to the side while Joel and Tommy talked amongst themselves.

"Yeah, it really was. I'm gonna miss it when the snow comes," you said, giving her a face. "Who's watching your daughter?" you asked suddenly, glancing around as if you could have possibly missed a small child running around.

"Oh, Dina offered to babysit, so we jumped at the chance to get out of the house," she said with a laugh. "Did you do anything exciting today?"

"Yeah, actually," you said, glancing at Joel, who was still talking quietly to his brother. "Joel taught me how to ride a horse. Well... re-taught me, I guess," you said with a small laugh.

"Thats fantastic. I'm glad you were feeling well enough to go out," Maria said with a warm smile.

"Oh, that reminds me-" you said, stopping yourself when Seth came over to take your orders. You just asked for what Maria was getting and turned your attention back to her. "I thought of a job."

Her eyes widened in surprise and she clapped her hands together. "Let's hear it!"

"I thought I could help out at the infirmary," you said, and she nodded along thoughtfully. "Nick was telling me his aide had to join patrol and he says he just needs someone to help do things around the office."

"That sounds like a great idea," she said, but you could hear the hesitation in her voice. When she glanced over at Joel, you connected the dots and sighed.

"He's fine with it," you grumbled, your gaze dropping to your hands.

"Fine with what?" Joel's voice asked from beside you.

"She wants to help out at the infirmary," Maria said, and Tommy grinned.

"Great idea, sugar," he said, "Nick could use the help. He's smart, but he's disorganized as all hell."

"I think it'll be good for you," Joel said, his knee knocking against yours under the table. "Help you get to know everyone a little better. Besides, if anythin' were to happen, you're in the right place," he added, leaning back in his chair so Seth could put his plate down in front of him.

"What do you mean?" you asked, picking up your fork and then scrunching your nose when you saw cherry tomatoes on your plate. Without even looking up, Joel speared the tomatoes with his fork and put them on his plate, then the three of you watched as he gathered his squash and gave it to you.

"I mean, if your head ever got to hurtin' again, then you'd be in the right place," he explained, looking up and licking the pad of his thumb. He frowned a bit when he noticed the table staring at him, and Tommy and Maria quickly ducked their heads to focus on their food, hiding their smiles.

"What?"

You dropped your gaze shyly to your plate and poked at the squash with your fork. "You know I hate tomatoes."

Heat crept up his neck a bit but he grinned. "The acid upsets your stomach," he said, and you chuckled to yourself, about to say something else when Jesse happened to walk by your table with some friends.

"Hey, Jesse!" Tommy called out, making him stop. He gave you all a quick wave before looking at Tommy expectantly. "Think you can join in on the 10am patrol tomorrow? Joel was just tellin' me he saw a clicker in that zone. Don't want any surprises like last time."

"Yeah, of course," Jesse said, then Joel frowned.

"Speakin' of last time," Joel said, his eyes drifting back and forth between the two men. "You never did explain how she got hurt on your patrol."

"That's right," you said, setting down your fork, "what happened? How did I fall? Was it the horse?"

Tommy and Jesse exchanged a nervous look. It was quick, but Joel still caught it. His jaw ticked to the side as he patiently waited for an answer.

"Uh, it was all so fast, and so much was happenin'," Tommy said, clearly floundering.

"Yeah, it's kinda hard to remember exactly," Jesse said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Well, try," Joel said, his voice dropping an octave. You turned your head slightly to look at him, not understanding why there was a sudden mood shift.

"We got ambushed by a small hoard," Tommy began, pushing his food around on his plate. "Thought we had it handled til a bunch more came outta nowhere," he continued, looking up to meet your eye now. "You were takin' down a runner, didn't see one comin' up behind you and it pushed you down. Knocked your head on a sharp boulder. Jesse 'n me took down the rest of 'em and that's when we realized you were knocked out cold."

You nodded, the story making sense as you remembered waking up to them yelling your name and their clothes covered in blood. But Joel wasn't satisfied. He knew they were leaving something out.

"That all?" he pressed, eyeing his brother. Tommy looked at Joel, a tense moment passing between the two before Tommy slowly nodded. He was about to open his mouth to speak when Jesse interrupted.

"It was my fault."

The whole table turned to look at him, taken aback. His hands were fidgeting at his sides as he avoided Joel's intense stare, trying to look anywhere but at him.

"I wanted to check out this department store. It was too big, we hadn't cleared the area, b-but we hadn't seen any infected in weeks a-and I thought we were good," he said, glancing up quickly at Joel, who was clenching his jaw and glaring at Jesse.

"What'd you need so bad from this store?" Joel seethed, and you saw Jesse swallow nervously.

"I-it's me and Grace's anniversary soon, wanted to get her something-"

Joel stood up quickly, his chair tumbling backwards, clattering loudly on the ground and silencing the room.

"So you wanted to get your girlfriend a present? That's why she can't remember a goddamn thing?" Joel roared, pointing at you. Tommy stood up and held his hands out.

"Calm down, Joel."

"I ain't calmin' down!" he shouted, and you jumped in your chair, scooting away from him and closer to Maria, who put an arm around you and urged you to stand.

"Let's go to the bar," she murmured, ushering you away as if she knew what was coming.

"I-I'm so sorry, Joel," Jesse stammered, tripping over his feet as he tried to put some distance between them.

"Sorry ain't gonna bring her back," he growled, rounding the table, his shoulders tight and his eyes wild. He reached out and grabbed Jesse by the collar before Tommy could react, and slammed him face first into the table. Food and cutlery went everywhere. People at nearby tables backed away but stayed to watch the fight unfold. Joel lifted Jesse up and smashed his face into the table again with a grunt, and this time you heard Jesse cry out in pain. You covered your mouth in horror as you watched Tommy try to pry Joel's hands off of him. "Wonder how many hits it'll take before you forget Grace. Maybe then we'll be even!" he shouted, pulling him back up by the collar. By now, blood poured from Jesse's mouth and his cheeks, mixing with tears as he tried to pull Joel's hands away. Just as Joel was about to slam his head into the table for a third time, you found your voice.

"Stop!!" you screamed, and by some miracle, he did. He still gripped Jesse's shirt in his hands, but Joel twisted his head around to look at you. Whatever he in your face made his fingers loosen their grip and Jesse stumbled backwards, collapsing into a chair as Tommy kneeled down next to him, trying to wipe away the blood.

Joel turned his whole body toward you, his face red and his chest heaving. His eyes were still crazed with anger but you could see it slowly melting away.

He took a step forward and you took a step back.

His eyes dropped to your feet, regret washing over him in an instant.

"Maria, can you gimme a hand?" Tommy called out, and she rushed over to help Jesse stand. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw them slowly leading Jesse towards the front door, no doubt in search of the doctor to help patch his wounds, but your eyes remained locked on Joel.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, not caring about all the onlookers still frozen in silence. But you did. You opened your mouth, then glanced around and thought better of it.

"Not here," you said under your breath, then stalked towards the exit, pushing your way past people until you felt the cool night air in your lungs.

You hurried down the street, wrapping your arms around yourself as you barreled home. You didn't turn around to see if he was following you. You knew he was. It was almost like you could feel him now. His presence draped around you like a scarf, surrounding you, engulfing you, suffocating you.

Storming up the porch steps, you flung the door open and walked inside, not bothering to close it behind you. You charged into the kitchen and paced around, your anger boiling inside you with nowhere for it to go.

"I'm sorry," he tried again from the doorway, trying to give you space. You stopped in your tracks and looked at him. His eyebrows were pinched together as he quietly waited for you to say something.

"Have you always been like this?"

His breath caught in his throat and he paused for a moment before replying. "Since we met? Yes."

"So you're saying I've caused you to act like a caveman when you hear something you don't like?" you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly.

"No, no, that's not - what I meant was, since you've known me, I've... had a temper," he said, quickly correcting himself.

You let a silent moment pass between you as you thought about what he said.

"It's no wonder it took me so long to fall in love with you," you said, and he winced. He looked away, trying to hide the pain, and you couldn't help but feel a little bad, but you stood your ground.

"It didn't bother you before," he mumbled, looking at the ground.

"Well, it bothers me now," you snapped, and he nodded.

"Okay, then I'll work on it," he conceded, looking up at you. "Happy?"

You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Thrilled."

Brushing past him, you marched up the stairs towards your bedroom and slammed the door shut behind you.

You could hear him moving around downstairs as you washed up and changed into pajamas, still seething at his behavior. How could you possibly fall in love with this man? You could barely figure out who he was - one minute he was soft and sweet, and the next he was bashing people's faces in. Even you could see it wasn't really Jesse's fault. The three of you would have agreed to check out the store together. Joel was just looking for someone to blame. It was immature and brutish and stupid.

Just as you pulled the covers over yourself, you heard a quiet rap on the door. You paused for a moment before rolling your eyes.

"Come in."

The door slowly creaked open and Joel slipped inside your room, glancing around at the bedroom you once shared together before looking at you.

"Can we talk?"

You furrowed your brow for a second before nodding, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He stepped forward and perched on the side of the bed, facing the wall so you could only see his side profile as he sat, deep in thought. You pulled your legs up so your chin rested on your knees and waited.

"I lied to you."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you couldn't help but think of the journal - Joel lied to me - and wondered if this was it. If you were going to get your answer.

"When you asked me what I missed most 'bout... before. I lied."

Okay, so probably not the lie in the journal, but still, your interest was piqued.

"What do you miss most?" you finally asked, and he sucked in a deep breath, his eyes glistening as he stared at the wall.

"My daughter. Sarah."

Your heart clenched in your chest and your gaze dropped to your hands. A daughter?

A long silence passed as you slowly connected the dots. The way he was with Ellie. The anger. The journal entry about Tommy having a daughter. The softness he kept hidden away.

"She died on outbreak day," he began, his throat already constricting. "Died in my arms. She was shot and-" he sniffled and took a deep breath. "And I couldn't save her. I held her and watched the light leave her eyes and I -" he choked back a sob and looked down, still avoiding your gaze. "I've never been the same," he finally managed to get out.

You swallowed back the tears that were forming. How couldn't you see? Of course he was hurting. Of course he lost someone. Just like you lost your family, he lost his. Were you that selfish and blind that you couldn't see it?

"Joel, I'm so sorry," you said shakily, but he shook his head.

"Just wanted to explain why I'm... whatever," he replied, giving up and rubbing his face.

Your chest ached for him. He was in pain and you couldn't stand it. Inching forward, you wrapped your arms around his neck, tentatively resting the side of your head on his shoulder. His hand came up to cup your elbow and he tilted his head so it rested against yours.

"I'm sorry," you repeated softly.

"Me, too."

You stayed like that for a while. Extending small olive branches to each other as you sat with the weight of what the world did to you both, and you finally began to understand what might have brought you together in the first place.

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[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

I think another reason why I get rather annoyed when people hate on ToA Apollo is because how hypocritical their criticisms are.

I just saw a post talking about how great it is that Annabeth gets to show a lot of emotion, especially by crying. I also recall moments where she got frustrated or angry, and I found myself absolutely agreeing!

But then my thoughts turned to Apollo, another character who shows a lot of emotion.

But you know what he’s called for being frustrated, or upset, or for crying?

Whiny. He’s called whiny.

Apollo gets frustrated when he’s unable to perform something (archery) he used to be extremely good at. He’s upset that he can no longer use a bow correctly.

And people call him whiny for that. Apparently, those people have never experienced, let alone heard of The Gifted-Kid, something all Gifted-Kids (hello, tis me, Gifted-Kid since 4th grade RIP) can relate to Apollo over.

You were really good at something but all of a sudden you can no longer perform it as well? You’re not hitting your usual mark?

Well too bad, according to the fan base, you should shut up and not be so awfully whiny! It’s just archery!

(That was obviously in jest but you get my point.)

Additionally, Apollo never complains about important things. He complains about having to walk, but not the injury that’s literally turning him into a zombie and physically tormenting him.

That post really made me think about this, and then I asked myself; “Why? Why are people’s thoughts so different on Annabeth v Apollo showing emotion?”

It became apparent rather quickly, if you ask me.

Annabeth is a woman. Of course she should be able to show emotion! also maybe deep-seated sexism of ‘women are emotional’

Apollo is a man. And God forbid men show emotion I guess smh so also sexism

Because think about it. How many of the RRVerse male protagonists were allowed to cry? To be fully, and undeniably, upset?

I can only remember Frank crying on the plane after his grandmother’s presumed death, and Grover sniffling/getting teary-eyed in PJO. I don’t recall Percy, Jason, Leo, or Nico ever crying, or really having powerful bursts of emotion.

Yes, yes, Percy and Nico have both gotten mad and unleashed their fury upon someone, but that’s not what I’m talking about here.

I’m talking about letting them feel, letting them be emotional.

Not a burst of anger. But real, genuine character-driven emotion.

The fact that I can only name Frank and Grover from the previous two series is truly saddening.

Apollo gets to feel. To let his emotions flow freely. He whines, yes, but he also gets frustrated, he gets upset, and most of all he cries.

That all makes him a real character, someone people can relate to.

I’ll admit I’m a rather emotional person too. I have a quick temper, and more often than not the water-works come on real quick when I get upset. It’s a normal emotional response, but it can be difficult to work with, especially when you’re trying to stay calm.

Apollo is the first RRVerse protagonist to be allowed to have feelings— strong ones, even. And I can relate to that. There’s a reason why Apollo, Reyna, and Annabeth are all favorites of mine, and that’s because I see myself in them.

Annabeth is prideful. I can be too. She gets obsessed over her work. I do that too. Hates spiders? Oh hell yeah.

Reyna gave me someone to connect with over my sexuality. Ignore that Rick mixed what aro and ace are for a moment please She really gave my demiromantic self somebody to relate with, because the lack of aro rep is criminal. and no the Hunters are not aro rep

Apollo is emotional. He’s made mistakes and wants to do better.

Who wouldn’t see themselves in him? I certainly do.

And yet, he gets called whiny for having the literal rug pulled out from under him again and again, and he doesn’t even let himself complain over what he should, absolutely complain about!

Idk. I think there’s a lot to be said about how this fandom treats emotional characters, especially based on gender.

I guess this is all to say don’t judge a fictional character, because you’re judging a real person too.

And real people have feelings, you know.

[miriellesandthegiantpeach]

Curls | Bucktommy

In the bathroom, Buck is grimacing in the mirror, swiping his hands back and forth over his freshly cut hair. His eyebrows are furrowed with indecision; was this a good idea? He hears the front door open.

“Evan? Where are you?” Tommy voices rings out.

“Up here,” Buck calls back, he closes the bathroom door most of the way before Tommy gets up there.

“Oh there you are, what are you doing?” Tommy tries to push open the door but Buck stops him.

“I got a haircut from the place Hen suggested. You’re not allowed to laugh, okay?” Buck’s voice is hesitant.

“I promise I won’t laugh, did they botch it?” Tommy replies with total sincerity. This time Tommy can open the door and step into the bathroom. He examines Buck’s hair, very relieved it actually isn’t botched or a buzzcut.

Tommy takes it in and can’t help the smile that spreads across his lips. His boyfriend looks damn fine; curls in full force and not reigned in like how Buck usually styles it. The hairdresser added a fade making his neck look a lot longer.

“What? It’s awful. Your silence is making me nervous,” Buck rambles out.

Reaching a hand up, Tommy carefully pinches a wild curl and is surprised how soft it is, not at all crunchy with gel. His hand slides down to touch the equally soft hair on the back of his head. He absolutely loves it. “It’s definitely not awful. I always love your curls, babe. I like seeing your natural hair be free for once, and it’s so soft too. You look really really hot actually. It’s trendy for sure, but not in a bad way.”

Buck is still frowning at the mirror and rubs his fingers on the side of his face. “She even shaved off my sideburns,” he pouts and Tommy laughs.

“They will grow back in no time.” He wraps his arms around Buck’s waist and rests his chin on Buck's shoulder, watching him still fuss with his hair. “You know, it does make you look undeniably not straight, if that’s what you were going for.”

”Not really my intention, but I mean I’m not, so I guess it works?” Buck huffs drops his hands. “I’m itching for my gel, I feel so naked without it.”

“Don’t you dare. It’s just new, it’ll grow on you.” Tommy smiles, catching Buck's eyes in the mirror.

“Hey, what about your natural curls, huh? I don't see you easing up on the hair products.” Buck turns his head to look at Tommy.

“Shhh we're not talking about me right now,” Tommy replies and slides a hand up to cup Buck's jaw and kiss his lips. “I'm sure there's something in the pilot handbook about hair regulations,” he mumbles against Buck's mouth then promptly leaves him in the bathroom.

When Buck walks into work the next day he’s greeted with a wolf whistle from Hen, “Damn, Buck! I knew my girl would make you look fresh! You’re looking damn fine.” And he can’t help but smile at the praise. He gets compliments and light teasing from the rest of the crew. Maybe he can live with it.

One of their calls is at the famous gay night club, The Abbey, in Santa Monica. One of the cages that the dancers was in fell with the dancer trapped inside of it. Buck and Eddie had to break out the saw to get the dancer out, luckily he walked away with minor injuries.

They attracted a small crowd of the other dancers- all in skimpy speedo like underwear. Most of them had their eyes on Buck, giving him flirty compliments and asking if he’s ever been there. At first Buck was confused why he was getting most of the attention from these objectively hot men, especially when Eddie and his stache was right there.

Oh right, the hair, he thinks. The ‘undeniably not straight’ hair style he is sporting right now. He couldn’t help feeling a small blush creep into his cheeks.

His attention gets pulled back to one of the dancers, “Are you single? I know it’s really forward of me, but I thought I’d shoot my shot.” At least he’s polite about blatantly hitting on him.

“Oh wow I’m really flattered but yeah, I am taken,” Buck says proudly. He takes out his phone and shows the dancer and his friends his phone lock screen - a selfie of him and Tommy from one of their recent dates. Buck is laughing and Tommy is smirking at the camera with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Oh my God! I know that guy! That’s Mr. August from the 2019 LAFD calendar! I’ll never forget that year,” one of the dancers muses.

“Lucky bastard,” another one says to Buck, which makes his smile grow wider.

Tommy’s phone pings with a picture from Chimney, which there is no doubt this was his idea. It’s of Buck in the middle of a row of speedo clad club dancers. He doesn’t have his jacket on, so it’s just the fire T-shirt with red and yellow suspenders and the turn out pants. He’s holding an ax resting on his shoulder with the cockiest look he could muster; a sexy smirk on his lips with his left eyebrow cocked. The dancers around him are all looking at him, hamming it up for the picture acting like he’s the hottest thing on earth. Tommy couldn’t agree more and immediately makes it his phone background.

Yeah, the hair is growing on Buck.

[probablyintensemuses]

Dating Armando Aretas Would Include:

Grumpy x Sunshine Edition

🎧- Enchanted: Taylor Swift

pairing: Armando Aretas x black fem! reader

themes: grumpy x sunshine w/drabble

warnings: mentions of trauma & abuse, strong language, and a bit of gore.

authors note: I saw Bad Boys 4 again last night and it’s really refueled my Armando obsession, so more headcannons, drabbles, and fics on the way.

✨First Encounters✨

You and Armando meet in the worst of circumstances.

He, his father, and Marcus were on the run as wanted men, and you were the first person Mike thought to turn to after the attack at Tabatha’s.

Which he wasn’t wrong, you’d give your left kidney to Mike he’s saved you so many times.

You had let them into your small apartment, offering them clothes, food, and shelter until they could get in touch with the rest of the Ammo team and sort this shit out.

Armando had taken an interest to you then. Your house was warm and cozy, lived in. A small, plush couch, next to a coffee table littered with medical books. A kitchen stacked with teas and espressos , a dresser with vintage vinyls and a record player beside it. This was the kind of house he’d like to live in if he lead a different life.

You remember walking over to him, a picture of your parents and you when you were young in his hands.

“Those are my parents,’ you say. “I was ten then.”

Armando’s gruff exterior takes over though, and he doesn’t give you as much as a word back, let alone a thank you for feeding and housing literal fugitives.

You figured it was just him though and let it roll off you back like water.

You all got some sleep and the next day Mike asks you to drive them out to Dorn’s house on the dock. You agree and begin to load up the truck with guns, water, food, and extra clothes for the drive.

This is when Armando starts to question who you are and the legitimacy of your actions. Last person Mike trusted fucked them over, and he wasn’t having that shit again.

So he pulls his father aside and confronts him on the situation: you.

“How can we trust her?” Armando says, not far out of earshot of you.

“She’s good for it, trust me.”

“Didn’t you say that the last time and we got sold out. Don’t forget there is fucking five million dollar bounty on our heads. We can’t trust no one!” He whisper-shouted.

Mikes shoulders dropped. “I saved her life when she was younger, and I used to work with her parents. Trust me, she’s not going to pull a fast one. Because if she was, she would have done it already.”

Armando looked over at you, you’re dressed in a tank top, and that’s when he notices the cuts and burns littering your left arm. He sucks in a deep breath eyeing Mike who looks at you with sympathy too. There’s a story there, he’ll piece it together later, but for now he guesses you’re his only hope of getting out alive.

✨Post-fallout ✨

After you didn’t screw them over, and got them safety to Dorn’s, Armando found himself limping towards your apartment, blood trailing behind his feet.

Mike had sent him, and for some reason, at that moment, your place felt like exactly what he needed.

With the last of his energy, he banged on your door. Shortly, you answered and immediately went into panic mode.

The moment you let him inside, Armando crashes to the floor, passing out.

You screech and get every first aide equipment you have on hand and begin to bandage him up and stop the bleeding.

It took two bloody, sweaty hours, but you eventually got him all closed up.

Armando woke the next morning in a bed he didn’t recognize. This sent him into a frenzy. He went to shoot up out of the bed, but the soreness of his injuries knocked him back down.

“Fuck,” he moaned, grabbing at his torso.

From the living room, you turn down your headphones at the sound of movement. Armando must be awake.

Two days of rest, not bad.

You move towards the microwave and reheat the breakfast you had made him, pour some orange juice, and bring a whole heck of a lot of water and pain-pills.

Tray in hand, you kick open the door and slip inside your bedroom.

“Good morning.” You smile, setting the tray on the bed by his side. “How do you feel?”

“What the fuck did you put in this.” Armando asks, eyeing the food.

“Eggs, bacon, and toast.” You snicker.

Armando lifts a piece of toast, taking a bite. “If I die from this, I’ll kill you.”

“Noted, Sarg.” You salute.

You watch Armando eat his food with a smile on your face.

Eventually he looks up at you scowling. “Why are you staring at me.”

You shrug. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” You say truthfully.

“Well,’ Armando takes a swig of water, downing the pills. “Go be happy somewhere else.”

Your shoulders drop and you let out a sigh, you knew Armando was tough, but geez, you practically saved his life. Would it kill him to be a little nice?

But still you smile when you say, “okay, well if you need me, I’ll be out in the living room studying. Feel free to roam around, I don’t mind.”

It was a couple hours before Armando had come out of your room, limping over to the kitchen and rummaging through your fridge.

“I’m making dinner right now,’ you say, pausing your television show. “It’s a roast with veggies.”

“I want a beer.” He grumbles.

“Well I don’t have beer, but I do have wine.” You say, pointing to you collection of reds and whites.

“ I don’t want wine.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?”

Armando comes over to you, cornering you into the tiny space between your sink and the counter. “Get me a beer.”

“Let’s start over,’ you stick out your hand for a shake. “I think we’re at a misunderstanding of our situation.”

Armando frowns at your response, grumbling Spanish curses under his breath and walking away, slamming your door like a toddler.

The roast was done, and eventually you got Armando to come and have dinner with you…kind of.

He sat on the couch and watched the news, for updates on the status for his search, and you sat at the table, contemplating what to do with him next.

✨Enemies, Friends, Roomates✨

Mike had told you harboring Armando would only be for a short while until he could figure something out with the D.A’s office….that was three months ago.

Eventually you got your bed back, Armando taking the couch, but not your sanity.

Living with Armando wasn’t easy. He was brash, stand-offish, stubborn, and mean.

You did everything to try and form some kind of bond with him, even buying him gym equipment offline, but it just never clicked for him.

Not until one night when you’re studying late for an exam and happen to fall asleep at the kitchen table, books all around you.

That’s when you fall into a nightmare. The man who ruined your life the star of the show, again.

It always starts the same. You and your parents living happily at the park. Your parents watch you as you swing higher and higher, giggles filling the air. Then a man appears at the edge of the park, beckoning your parents over. You scream and shout for them but they never turn back, they keep going to the man. And when he has your parents in his grip, he brandishes a knife, slicing them open.

You let out a blood curling scream, slamming awake and falling to the group. Sweat sticks your curls to your face as you cry and gasp for breath.

Armando’s up in a second, swarming you.

“Estás bien?’ He pats you down, checking you out. “What’s happened to you?”

You can’t do anything but cry. The man who’s ruined your life, he’ll never leave you…he made sure of that in many ways. His latching to you is so deep that you can’t even escape him when you sleep.

You finally are able to get some words out, tell Armando, “I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,’ he helps you stand. “Maybe you should get some sleep in your bed.”

You’re shocked by his response, but you’re even more shocked by the way he helps you to your room.

“What are you doing?” You asks, confused.

“You just flew out your chair from a nightmare, what do you mean what am I doing? I’m helping you.”

“Yeah, I get that…but you never help me.”

Armando sighs, holding his hands at his hips. “You gonna tell me what it was about, or should I leave.”

You sigh. “When I was younger, my parents worked for the Miami Police Department. They were detectives and before I was born they ended up helping catch this serial killer. His name was Gunter Bennett but the media called him “The Gutter” because that’s how he killed. Years later, somehow he escaped prison. That’s when he came for my parents. He killed them in the middle of the night.’ You take an uneasy breath, finding birth relief and shock when Armando’s hand slips into yours. “And I was sure he was going to kill me too, but he didn’t…he did worse. He kidnapped me and kept me at some shithole for three years. Three.”

You rile up your sleeves and show all your burns and cuts. Armando remembers them from the first day he met you.

“It’s how I got these. That sadistic bastard,’ you cry. “He tortured me.”

Armando feels something in him snap hearing your story and seeing the ways it’s effected you, even now. He knows what it’s like to be harmed and loose the people closest to you.

So he shocks even himself with what does next, scooping you up like a wounded bird and nuzzling under the blankets with you.

You whimper and sniffle in his arms and he just hushes you, stroking your curls.

“It’s going to be alright, niña bonita, he’s gone now.”

Slowly, the exhaustion of work, school, and your tears overcome you and you both drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

✨My Lover✨

Armando was jealous.

You two had just spent the day out shopping, laughing and talking. Hell, you two live together! And yet you’re grinding on another man at the bar?!

The glass in Armando’s hand shakes and chips as he squeezes it further.

“Relax, muscle milk. You’ll break the glass.” Marcus says.

Armando scowls at him.

“I’m just saying, if you love her, tell her.” Marcus shrugs, walking away.

Armando scoffs. Love? Yeah right.

Did he feel close to you, yes.

Want to spend every breathing moment with you, yes.

Touch himself in the shower thinking about you, yes .

Oh fuck…he did love you.

Fuck! He loved you and you’re grinding another man!

Armando pushed out of his chair, it clattering to the ground in his wake.

He stalked over to you, grabbing your wrist and putting room between you and the man you danced on.

“ ‘Mando, what are you doing?” You stumble, clearly drunk.

“Let’s go.” He grabs you, chest heaving.

“Hey, wait!” You swat at him as he drags you through the bar and out the exit. “Why would you do that?” You whine.

“Because you’re drunk.” He rolls his eyes, slinging his leather jacket over your naked shoulders.

“I’m not!’ You whine, stumbling, luckily Armando catches you with ease. “I am.”

“You are. Let’s go.” He says, slinging you and carrying you bridal shower.

“Ah,’ you say, wrapping your arms around Armando’s neck and snuggling into him. “My knight in shining armor always takes such good care of me.’ You lean over, smacking his butt with a giggle.

“Shut up.” Armando says, resisting the urge to crack a smile.

Home, Armando tucks you into bed. He’s just about to walk away when you snatch his wrist, pulling him on top of you.

“Let’s play a game,” you whisper.

Armando rolls his eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth for truth. I tell you a truth and you do the same. “I’ll start.” You giggle.

“Tonight went exactly how I planned.”

Armando pulls back. “What do you mean by that?”

You shake your head and pout. “Uh uh. You’re turn.”

Armando sighs. “I don’t actually find you that annoying…anymore.”

“Ah, I knew it!” You laugh.

“Knew what?”

“Game over.’ You slump and snore, pretending to sleep.

“Stop it, you knew what?” Armando lifts you.

You bop his nose. “I knew that you loved me.”

Armando’s eyes get big. “What?”

“Me and kelly paid that guy to dance with me. We knew you’d get mad and that was all the proof I needed.”

“You’re a dick.” He starts to walk away, but you grab him by his belt loop.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You pull him back. “But you don’t have to be shy.” You hiccup.

Armando grumbles, nuzzling his face into your stomach. “And why’s that?”

You lift his head, angling it to face you. “Because I love you too.” You lean forward, placing a firm kiss onto his plump lips.

Armando reciprocates, opening his mouth turning the kiss fierce and hot. He climbs on top of you, mumbling against your lips. “And I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”

You giggle. “Feels good to be bad for a change.”

[romanreignseater]

Cinematography. (This Is Cinema ~ Roman’s Part)

Roman Reigns x Black Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; Rough sex, p0rngraphy, oral (m&f receiving), slight spit kink, and other nausty (ikyk) thingsssss..

“Already having made an absolute masterpiece with Mr. Jey Uso, you didn’t think you’d be stepping to the so called “Tribal Chief” so soon. But he put himself next in line and you weren’t mad at it.

A/N: This has been the most requested in my inbox and I have been dying to continue this story/series for you all. Here’s the first part of this series. Thanks for the support on my last Roman fic, what a warm welcome back 🥰🥰. More coming soon, I got a lot of ideas brewing up. AND MY HUSBAND IS BACK, TURN UP BITCHHHHHH 😝😝!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GIF: @jeysuso

It has been about two weeks since your last adult video dropped and it was the talk of the town. Scratch that, it’s talk of the whole world at this point. You filmed with a member of the hottest porn group there is, Mr. Jey Uso, and he most definitely rocked your world. As that video did your bank account.

The video reached 1 million views in just an hour and over the course of two weeks it was at 205 million views. Those numbers meant shopping sprees and palm trees. But, also trips to the masseuse, cause Jey did not play no games with you. He wore you out to the point where your management thought it was best to put you on an “injury reserve” list.

Yeah… it was that bad and honestly unnecessary.

But, good at the same time. Jey made you feel things you haven’t felt in a long time. What you didn’t know was a storm was brewing and headed straight for Casa Y/N.

As you stood in your kitchen making yourself some shrimp alfredo pasta with your teacup poodle, Rex, by your side being your little sous chef. The doorbell rang. Rex instantly began barking and running to the front door, trying his best to be your guard dog.

“Rex, calm your little ass down.” You yelled as turned the stove off and moved the pan of pasta to the side, wiped your hands and headed to the front door. You had no clue as to who was at the door, you weren’t expecting any company. Maybe it was a package, as your online spending habits always seem to leave your mind the second you purchased something. Or maybe fan mail, as you tend to get a lot of those from random men wanting to marry you.

“Rex back up from this door and stop all that barking please.” Rex sat quietly and tilted his head curiously to the side as you opened the huge door. You were surprised to see manager, Vanessa, standing at the door with a big grin on her face. As you opened the door even more, your breath completely stopped and your heart skipped a beat. Stood next to Vanessa was a 6’ 3, tatted, tan, and muscular Samoan with the face of a Greek god.

Your mouth stood agape as you admired his innate beauty, glaring at you with that smirk… that smirk that possessed all the women he’d ever worked with. Made them shrivel in their panties, made them wet for days, and made them absolutely numb to his body and his body only.

Roman Motherfuckin’ Reigns.

The leader of this adult film group aka “The Bloodline”, stood at your front door, with your manager. You couldn’t believe it!! Roman only had 8 videos up… 8 videos!! He’s only ever worked with 5 women in his entire pornstar career and they were quite the professionals. But now he stands at your door, which you could only guess what that means.

“Earth to Y/N, yoohoo. Y/N!!” You snapped back into reality as Vanessa began clapping her hands in your face. “Vanessa, where I’m from clapping your hands in someone’s face means you wanna fight. So, let’s not do that again. Got it?!” Vanessa looked taken aback as Roman just laughed with that dreamy chuckle of his.

“She is really feisty Nessa, just like you said, I like that.. a lot.” Roman whispered that last part into your ear so sensually that it made you want to take your phone and make this tape right here at the front door. But you remained professional as you knew Roman didn’t mess with little fan girls. He only worked with confident women who are professional and know what they want out of him.

And boy oh boy, you knew exactly what you wanted from him.

“Well let’s not waste any time with the long introductions. Y/N, Roman. Roman, Y/N. Shake hands and let’s get this party started.” Vanessa waltzed her way right into your home and picking up Rex in the process as she then said, “Ooo, is that alfredo I smell girl?!” You both watched as Nessa helped herself into the kitchen to feast on the meal you prepared for yourself.

“Your manager is really something, but she’s definitely a smart one and knows what she’s doing with you.” You faced Roman as you just gazed into his chocolate brown eyes as he did to yours. “Yeah that’s my girl. Why don’t you come in and have a seat?!” Roman removes your hand from the door, lets himself in and shut the door behind him. He then immediately picks you up and flings you over his shoulder. You gasped and begin giggling uncontrollably.

He gives a firm smack to your ass and heads his way into the kitchen.

“Oh, imma have fun with you baby.”

You bit your lip as you let Roman navigate his way through your home by following the smell of the pasta which would lead to where Vanessa stood chowing down per usual.

“Okay Groot, put my girl down. She’s on the injury reserve list and I can’t afford to have her down for another week.” You mentally curse out Nessa for mentioning this stupid injury reserve thing in front of Roman. He sets you down and takes a seat on the barstool across from Vanessa on the kitchen island.

“How did you get injured?!” He stares at you with curiosity in his eyes as you weren’t bandaged up, nor needing any sort of crutches or wheelchair. You played with your nails as you looked around the room trying to avoid eye contact with him. “Welllll… it’s kind of a long story. See what-.”

“Oh my god, she’s taking too long. Her last porno with your cousin, Jey. Messed. Her. Up. She’s been done up ever since.” Roman’s eyes moved from Vanessa’s to yours. You shut them not even daring to look back at him.

“Oh please, when I’m done with her she’ll be on that list for months. Why do you think I’ve only worked with 5 women my whole career?! Cause I broke em’ down, claiming they could take it but always proved me wrong. With you though… I know it’ll be different.”

Roman said that as he stood behind you massaging your ass with one hand and massaging your neck with the other. Roman’s massive hand travels from the back of your neck to the front of it as he choked you out. His hand on your lower half took the same route to your front, rubbing your pussy through your shorts. His pillow soft lips laid kisses all over your face, but grazing your lips every time you thought he was gonna go in for a kiss.

You completely crumbled. Cupping your entire clothed mound in his hand, massaging and torturing you. Making you squirm for his viewing pleasure. You lose your breath and awareness of your surroundings as he begins rubbing you out harder and enforcing a rougher choke around your neck.

“Ummmm, get your hands off my girl. You ain’t sign this contract yet.” Vanessa said with a mouthful of pasta, throwing the contract down in front of you both.

“Yeah you’re right. Can’t fuck the shit out of her without this little deal we curated.” Roman released you from the shackles of his hands and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“Wait, what deal?!” You stared at your manager trying to regain your breath, as she continued to slurp down the pasta.

“Wellll… you see, what had happened wasss.” You looked at Vanessa in utter disbelief as she was out her making “deals” without your approval.

“Ah she’s taking too long.” Roman began to speak on Vanessa’s behalf. “We have curated a little deal princess, where we will have a committed “porn” relationship. Basically committing to film with each other, and each other only for a period of time. But as of right now, we’re doing a little tester. Seeing if we have the chemistry before we go lighting any sparks here.”

You stood giggling not minding the sound of this little “deal”. But you can’t help but notice that Roman’s come flocking after your tape with Jey and you’ve heard about the slight competition between the both of them.

“Okayyyy, and why now?! Is it because I filmed with your little cousin and you’re nervous he’s doing bigger numbers and has bigger things than you honey?!” You continued your uncontrollable giggles as you looked to Vanessa who stopped in her tracks.

Roman shut his eyes and let out a deep sigh. Those words deeply triggered him. Him and Jey were always in competition with one another. Since they were in little league football to now slanging that dick for all of America to see. Despite Jey being a twin, they were more of an inseparable duo rather than frenemies.

Of course Roman had immense amounts of love for his family, he helped bring them into the industry and helped change all of their lives for the better. But he was a firm believer of not letting the people you allowed in to over throw you. He stood at the Head of the Table and he wasn’t gonna allow little cousin Jey to take that from him.

“Vanessa… call the camera crew.”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t even sign the contract and a camera crew was at your home setting up for what you could only assume was gonna be an absolute movie.

Roman didn’t speak to you after asking Nessa to invite the camera crew over. He must’ve not liked to hear you compare him to Jey, but it was all harmless fun… well to you at least.

You find Roman and Nessa in your bedroom with the camera crew setting up angles all around your bed. You slowly walked up from behind your bedroom door and Roman and Nessa looked up towards you. “Well don’t you look all cutesy girl. I haven’t seen you this dressed up since your first ever video..”

You visibly cringed at Nessa constant embarrassment of you as Roman chuckled his life away. “At least she’s all dressed up for a good reason. A great one at that." You dressed in your best lingerie. Red, tight, and riddled with lace.

Just how you liked it and assuming that’s how Roman liked it as well by the way he was eyeing you down.

“How about we get started, why don’t we?!” Roman sat on your Queen sized bed and waited patiently for you sit next to him. You slowly walked to the bed, as if you were unfamiliar with it. “This is your house, your bed sweetheart. Why you being all shy?! I don’t bite, well I might not bite right now.”

You blush and take a seat next to Roman on your bed. You look at Roman as he tells the main camera man where to stand.

“Sooo… there’s no game plan?! Just jumping straight into it?!” Most stars you’ve worked with have a certain setup for how their videos began and Roman seemingly didn’t have one. Most of his films sort of jumped straight into the last minutes of foreplay, then cut right to the sex.

“Sweetheart, this is my show and I’m running it. Just follow my lead and follow like a good girl, alright?!” Roman’s deep voice put you into a trance and hearing him call you a good girl nearly made you drool.

“Oh-okay.”

Roman pats my thigh and smiles at me.

“Good girl.”

He then signals the cameraman, which prompted him to start a countdown.

“In 5…

4…

3…

2…

1…”

He signals his finger towards us meaning that the camera is rolling. Staring directly into the lens, you were completely frozen. Your nerves began to get the best of you and those jitters you had when you first became an adult film star all came back.

You could feel the warmth of Roman peer closer to you. He places one of his large hands on your thigh and the other on your face, making you look him dead in his eyes.

“Don’t be nervous alright. Daddy’s got you.”

Before you could respond, Roman blesses your lips with a passionate kiss. Our lips smacking together in sensual harmony. His tongue swirled on the inside of your mouth, exploring every part of it.

Then the kiss became even slower. Your tongues fighting in a brute of passion, trying to figure out who asserted the most dominance. And of course… the Head of the Table won.

He moves from his spot next to you on the bed and stands in front of at the edge of the bed. He begins to massage your taut breasts through your lingerie, before removing it completely.

“Fuck baby, you look amazing.”

His comment only added to your nervousness, but his heavenly kiss brought you back to down to Earth.

He catches you by surprise as he yanks your hips to the edge of the bed and rips your soaked panties clean off. He spread your legs wide causing the glory of wetness to be revealed to him and the camera.

“You real wet huh mama?! Want Daddy to eat you out??”

You could only nod as his breath nearing your pussy could only cause you to shiver. He smirks and lowers his head down into your heat.

He begins eats you out messily, tossing your knees over his shoulders, and circling your clit until you soak his beard. He then sucked on each individual fold, licking and slurping covering it in saliva. You became a whimpering mess as he shook his head ferociously against your clit, with eyes rolling back, hands tangled in his luxurious hair and legs shaking and closing around his head.

“I’m gonna cum Dadddyyyyy.”

“Let it go mama.”

Your legs enclosed Roman’s head as they shook with maximum strength. Your back arched off the bed and Roman’s fingers gripped your thighs harshly, definitely leaving marks later.

You pant heavily, trying to regain your breath from the insane climax Roman just gave you. Without wasting anytime, he took his tank top off as well as his sweatpants and boxers.

His body a legit masterpiece. Sculpted by the gods.

Shocking you once again, he grasps the back of your knees, forcing them together and then crushing them into your tits. The head of his cock glides against your cunt, still convulsing from the feeling of that climax. 

Roman slams into you, not giving you any time to adjust. He just pounds you into the mattress. The room was filled with sounds, only sounds. The grunts and the wet slaps of his pelvis smacking against yours over and over again with his hand between your legs, rubbing your wet cunt and the place where it stretched around him.

“You like that mama?!”

“You feel it in your stomach, huh?!”

“Daddy’s going in real deep huh?!”

Your entire bed shook, the headboard slammed into the wall to the point where you believed the drywall began to crumble and holes will most definitely appear later on. You begin taking mental notes to tell Vanessa to send Roman a bill for your damaged wall.

His moans made you even wetter than you were before. It almost sounded like he was whimpering over your pussy.

Was the big man really whimpering over how good your pussy is?!

Before you could even relish in the sounds of his moans more, you legs shook once again as you felt your climax approaching and it was approaching fast.

Roman caught on to your short gasps and convulsing legs, he then began beating up your sweet cunt. Throwing your knees to the side of your head, making them touch your silk sheets. Pounding into you harshly, not missing a beat until you squirted all over his lower half and the sheets underneath you.

“Oh my goodness.” You let out an exasperated laugh as you closed your legs together to staph off that feeling. You winced as Roman let out a sharp smack to your ass. You opened your eyes as you watched him pleasure himself in front of you.

“Come suck this dick mama.”

Say no more.

You followed as Roman laid down and you took the position in between his legs, sniper style.

You grabbed at his flesh pole and it felt so hot and heavy in your hands. He most certainly was big. Like BIG. Although you didn’t want to compare lengths, Roman was massive compared to his cousin Jey. Maybe he liked to call him lil cuz for a reason.

“Whatchu you keep staring at?! Get to it princess.”

You innocently brought your mouth down and sucked the head. Moaning with his cock in your mouth and hands massaging at this balls. You slobbered down his length, bobbing your up and down head slowly. You peer your eyes up as you listened to the moaning and groaning Roman made from the moment you made contact with his member. His legs shook as you continued the pleasure.

His eyes rolled back and he grabbed the back of your head, bobbing your head up and down. Your eyes watered and you gagged as he stalled his hips in your mouth.

His cum coated the entirety of your throat. He groaned as you swallowed his cum while he was still in your mouth. His strong arms brought you up as he gave you a long kiss. Intaking all his cum and yours from earlier in each other’s mouths. A string of saliva hung from your lips to his. You both smile at each other, looking each other in the eyes.

“And… CUT!!”

You slightly jumped as you completely forgot about the tape you guys were filming. “That was absolutely perfect guys. Roman, Y/N… you both got a money maker on your hands right here.”

The camera crew began to clean up and take down the lights and mics. Roman tried to help you up off the bed, but you were so weak in the knees you couldn’t stand.

“I think we’ll keep on that list sweetie.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment and he began to chuckle. “Whatever Roman, just let me sit for a little.”

He smiled at you once more before he lowered himself to your ear. “Definitely better than Lil’ Jey huh?!”

This man is a problemmmm…

A good one though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE END.

HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED 💕💕!! Probably my fave Roman fic to date!!

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Floating Above Those Dark Skies

My Navigation and Masterlist

My Sweet Home Masterlist

My Cha Hyun-su Masterlist

Pairing(s): Cha Hyun-su x Fem!Reader Summary: Living with the love of your life and the girl you love like a daughter is perfect. Except for all the bad parts. Warnings: Season 2 spoilers! Follows the dialogue of the episodes relatively strictly (I know some people like that but some people don't so it's a warning), Reader being like a second mother to Ah-yi, Hyun-su being a great big brother/father figure, slight talk of previous suicide attempts (The National Suicide and Crisis Hotline is 988. There are so many people who care about you and would love to help you. You are not alone), injuries, underage drinking (but they're in the apocalypse so who cares), canonical death, hurt with comfort, the appearance of (soft and kinda ooc) monster!Hyun-su, no use of (y/n), reader has the nickname "Lucky". Word Count: 17,132 (wow, what a doozy)

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Hyun-su led the way as you all walked to his home. Halfway there, Ah-yi complained about her feet hurting and it was then you noticed she had been barefoot this entire time. 

‘We definitely need to fix that,’ you thought. 

Before Hyun-su could even open his mouth, you crouched down and extended your hands out to her. She rushed forward to jump into your arms with a tired smile. When you straightened back up, she rested her head against your shoulder and was out like a light within a few minutes. 

“She seems to like you a lot,” Hyun-su whispered fondly as a gentle smile laid itself on his lips. After making sure she was secure in your arms, you smiled back at him and dropped one hand from holding her to hold his hand. 

“I guess I’m just a toddler whisperer. I think she likes me better than you,” you joked and he let out a scoff while squeezing your hand.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” he told you in an offended tone you could tell was fake by the smile threatening to break his facade. 

After a few minutes of comfortable silence as you walked, you asked the question that had been burning in your mind since you saw him again with the girl in your arms. “So… who is she?” 

He let out a heavy sigh before pushing a tree branch out of the way for you to walk through since your hands were full. 

Always the gentleman.

“She’s Seo Yi-kyung’s baby.”

You let out a quiet gasp. “What? But she hadn’t even been pregnant for half a year? And this is at least a 4-year-old child!” You whisper shouted at him, completely shocked by the information. 

“I don’t fully understand it either, but I do know she’s hers,” he assured you and you let out a sigh, your eyes wide as you tried to process the information. 

“So, is she a monster-human mix as well? Is she like you?” You asked. You hadn’t noticed the way Hyun-su snapped his head towards you because you were too focused on the girl in your arm, letting out small breaths that tickled your neck. The way you said the sentence was so unlike anything he had heard before - especially relating to talking about monsters and neohumans. You sounded so soft, not an ounce of judgment or resentment in your voice. You sounded like no matter what the answer was you wouldn’t treat her any differently. You would adore her just as much as you were in that moment with your face buried in her hair as she let out quiet snores in her sleep. He gave a soft smile at the thought. 

“I think so. She's grown so much since I first met her. Her actual age is around 5 or 6 months.”

“Wow,” you breathed and he couldn’t help but marvel at the way your voice embodied adoration and your smile was so bright it set the sky on fire despite the sun falling over the horizon. “That’s… wow.”

The rest of the walk was spent in silence. At some point, Hyun-su’s hand moved from holding yours to circling your waist as you hugged Ah-yi to your chest protectively. Eventually, the three of you arrived at a dock where a large boat was parked. 

 You weren’t all too surprised to find he had lived on a boat for the past half-year but you couldn’t help the small part that didn’t believe him when he told you. 

He hopped up onto the boat first before helping you, careful not to wake Ah-yi. After the two of you were safely atop the boat, he led you to the captain’s quarters and helped you lay the girl in your arms down onto the nest of blankets and sweaters assembled to make a bed. Her dress had dried surprisingly quickly on the way to the boat, the only thing left to be damp was her hair.

 You weren’t so lucky.

Your clothes stuck to your skin uncomfortably but you refused to complain, giving a - hopefully convincing - smile to Hyun-su when he saw you detach your shirt from your chest with a grimace. He walked away for a few moments and you sat down at the entrance to the captain’s quarters, resting your head against the door frame until his soft footsteps brought your attention back to him. He stood in front of you with a pair of folded clothes in his hands. 

“I have these if you want to change into some fresh clothes. I don’t have any towels but this might help.”

The hesitant and shy look on his face made a smile break out on your own. You gave him a nod and took the clothes from his hands. You didn’t comment on how they were exactly your size but it made your heart flutter. 

“Thank you,” you told him genuinely.

He nodded back at you before pointing to a door inside the quarters. “In there is a bathroom for whenever you want to change. I’ll wait for you out here.”

You nodded and turned before the smitten smile overcame your face stupidly at the thought. He just said he would wait for you and you could feel your heartbeat quickening alarmingly while heat rose to your cheeks. You walked into the bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. It was kind of scary. You hadn’t seen your reflection in a few months, never venturing into any areas with cars and rarely going near water. All the mirrors in the women's locker room back at the stadium had been broken after a monster outbreak and the monster breaking all of them because she was ‘too ugly.’ 

You honestly almost forgot what you looked like, but you were beautiful. You had always thought of yourself as a relatively attractive person but never the kind that would make someone turn their head. Now, you found yourself unable to look away. Your skin was glowing, whether that be from the sweat collecting from the walk or the water, you didn’t know. Any blood that had collected on you over the past few weeks had been rinsed off in the lake and you relished in the feeling of being clean of it for once, despite how the stickiness of the wet clothes you were still wearing still made you feel a bit dirty.

Snapping out of your amazement, you quickly took your old clothes off, replacing them with the ones Hyun-su had given you. It was a simple pair of dark gray sweatpants and a maroon short-sleeved shirt. You took off your unbearably uncomfortable socks and replaced them with the soft wool socks he provided as well. Now dry, you exited the bathroom to see Hyun-su had stuck to his word and was waiting for you as he leaned against the door frame of the room, though this time in a different, dryer outfit. 

“Hey,” you said softly to get his attention. He looked over at you and smiled when he saw you all dressed and dryer than before. 

“Hey,” he whispered back. He held his hands out for you to give him your wet clothes and you did reluctantly. He walked over to the edge of the boat and laid them over the edge so they could dry before returning to you. “Well, you should get some sleep.”

As if his words were magic, you suddenly felt the events of the day hit you like a truck and you yawned, nodding your agreement. “I think that’s a good idea.”

You gave a quick look around the room before deciding to sleep next to Ah-yi with your head using a part of her ‘bed’ as a pillow.

Hyun-su winced as he saw you settle against the hard floor of the boat and walked forward without thinking. He gently grabbed your shoulders, lifting you and then settling you against his chest while you sat in between his legs. 

You blushed but said nothing as you settled with your cheek pressed against his chest, his heartbeat echoing against your ear and calming your nerves.

“Sleep,” he told you and tightened his grip around you. “I’ll keep watch.”

Your tongue felt heavy with sleep as you spoke your next words with a slight slur. “But what about you?”

He let out a soft laugh as he heard your breathing even out almost immediately after your sentence ended. He let his head rest against the wall behind him as he kept his gaze on the door.

“I’ll be okay,” he whispered as he briefly looked down at your peaceful sleeping face. “As long as you’re here with me…”

“Lucky.”

~A Week Into The Apocalypse, In Green Home~

It had been a week since the apocalypse started, and you had barely seen Hyun-su. The way the other residents and survivors treated him caused you to be so angry. You were thankful that at least one person - Eun-yu - didn’t treat him like a monster. 

She wasn’t much different though, considering she still avoided him most of the time. 

It was after the reappearance of Yi-kyung and the failed mission to retrieve medicine for Ji-su and her surgery that you got the chance to talk to him for more than just a quick goodbye or hello. 

“All alone?” You asked him as you approached the staircase. The candle in your hands burned a bright yellow and smelled of cinnamon sugar. His head looked up at where you were approaching and nodded as you settled yourself on the stairs with him. Although he appreciated you trying to give him space and sitting a short distance away, he couldn’t help but wish you were closer. You smiled at him and smoothed your hands along your pants when you were seated. 

“Are you scared?” 

The question through you off guard. Giving a quick look around the room, you didn’t see anything that you would consider to be a threat so you weren’t really sure what he was talking about. 

“Of what?” You asked, tilting your head in confusion at the boy. 

He mirrored your head tilt with a confused look of his own. Inwardly you laughed at how the two of you must look like confused dogs when their owners told them a command they didn’t understand. 

“Of… me?” He questioned again and a small laugh left you when you finally realized. 

“Oh, Hyun-su,” you reached over to gently grab his hand as you looked him deeply in the eyes. “I promise you I could never be scared of you.”

He looked down with a small smile at that and you could see the small hints of red on his ears and cheeks. 

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” you started and gently released his hand. He immediately felt cold at the lack of your added warmth. “I never tried because I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to talk to me, but is there a reason why you never came by? Even after you were given a choice to leave the quarantining room?”

He paused as he thought for a moment. “I thought you didn’t want to see me. You were the only person not put on guard duty so I figured it was because you asked not to.”

You let out a sad sigh. “Shit, I’m sorry. I promise that’s not what happened.”

He looked up at you with sad, confused little puppy eyes. “It’s not?” 

You shook your head. “The first, and only, time I was put on guard duty, I tried breaking the lock on the door,” you told him and looked away sheepishly. 

“Really?” He asked after a moment of stunned silence. 

You nodded in assurance. “After that, Eun-hyuk tried to do whatever he could to keep me as far away from you as possible. I was hoping that would change since you got out but now I know why it didn’t,” you smiled at him sweetly and he felt the heat rise to his cheeks so he looked away. “You know,” you continued. “I always saw you stop by my door right before you would leave, but you never said anything. Was that also because you thought I didn’t want to talk to you?”

“Partially. It was mainly so I could just see you before I left. Every time I thought I was going to die I thought about returning so I could at least try to fix whatever was happening,” he told you. Now he was the one who looked sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck. “I always backed out at the last minute though.”

You smiled and scooted closer to him on the stairs, moving down so you were on the same level and making it so only half a foot of space separated you. “I guess I was like your lucky charm then, wasn’t I?” You teased and lightly bumped your shoulder against his. 

“Yeah, I guess you were.”

~Back To The Present~

It had been about a month since you reunited with Hyun-su. You’d grown closer to Ah-yi in no time. She looked up to you and it seemed she just needed another girl in her life to have around. Your favorite part about growing closer to her was she had upgraded your honorific from ‘Miss’ to ‘Unni’ which made your heart clench adoringly every time.

The first time Hyun-su decided to make a trip into the city to collect some supplies, he was so hesitant to leave the two of you alone. You promised you would protect Ah-yi and yourself with whatever it takes; that seemed to be enough for him to be comfortable enough to leave. He never lost his hesitancy to leave the two of you alone despite each time he came back the two of you would be fine.

The most recent time was no different. You sat on top of a large, red, metal shipping container with Ah-yi as the two of you drew using the chalk you were fortunate enough to find a few days ago.

“That looks beautiful, Ah-yi! You are such a good artist,” you praised her on her drawing and she visibly beamed. It was a simple drawing of some flowers and her, you, and Hyun-su. It was clear it was made by a child but it was so beautiful in your eyes. 

“Thank you, Unni!” You ruffled her hair which she squealed at until you noticed Hyun-su walking towards the two of you with a smile on his face and a hand hiding behind his back while the other supported a red bag over his shoulder. “Oppa!” Ah-yi exclaimed and you smiled at her excitement. 

He rounded the corner of the large container and brought the hand hiding behind his back out to place a pair of pink shoes on the top. Ah-yi gasped while you had a big smile on your face. 

“Come on!” You urged her and she sat on the edge of the box so Hyun-su could slip the shoes onto her feet with the cutest smile ever on his face. Once the shoes were on, he held his hands out for her and she eagerly jumped down, having full faith that he wouldn’t drop her. Once he set her down, he reached his hands out for you to take and you gave him a funny look. 

“What’s wrong, Lucky?” He voiced his thoughts with a confused tilt of his head. You rolled your eyes at him while smiling. Your heart fluttered at the nickname. He’d started calling you it more often since the two of you reunited and yet it still gave you butterflies.  

“I’m okay, I can get down by myself,” you reassured him and turned around while you slowly lowered yourself from the canister, your front facing the metal. 

You heard Hyun-su softly breathe out a laugh from behind you before a hand grabbed onto the back of your shirt and pulled. You let out a yelp as you felt yourself falling only to land bridal style in Hyun-su’s arms. You clicked your tongue in faux annoyance and crossed your arms while he tried to hide the smug smile on his lips. 

“Going full ‘knight in shining armor’ mode, are we now?” You teased him and he blushed, pointedly avoiding your gaze. Suddenly, your stomach dipped as you felt him pretend to drop you and your arms wrapped themselves around his neck while he looked at you with another self-satisfied smirk.

“Well, it looks like my ‘princess’ needs her ‘knight in shining armor,’” he said softly as he looked away from you and you slapped his chest. He kneeled down when Ah-yi ran up to him. Knowing exactly what he was offering, she used one of his extended hands along with yours to help prop herself onto his shoulders. Hyun-su regained his grip on you as he grabbed the red bag he had set down and stood back up to his full height before starting the walk in the direction of the boat. You rolled your eyes, knowing any protests about him carrying you would be brushed off. Instead, you just snatched the red bag from his hand, placing it on your lap and holding it tightly to your body as you gave him a challenging glare. He just rolled his eyes with a fond smile and continued walking. 

The three of you made small talk as he carried you. Ah-yi explained what you and her had done while Hyun-su was venturing off and you chimed in every now and then with a comment. Hyun-su explained how he saw a peculiar monster today.

“It was like a mermaid with wings.”

Then, you both went on to explain what a mermaid was to the child. 

When you arrived at the boat, Hyun-su set the both of you down and Ah-yi started pulling you to the edge of the boat. You laughed as you walked up to the contraption. It was during your first week that you made the efficient self-fishing machine. It was a relatively simple mechanism that was made of a bunch of fishing poles and a homemade weight sensor. Whenever one of the poles was tugged on by something in the water, the device yanked it up and whatever was attached to the hook was left dangling in the air. 7 times out of 10, the hook was caught on litter in the ocean or a monster that was able to detach itself but there were the 3 times where you would catch a fish or two and the three of you would share it for dinner. 

It became a bit of a game for Ah-yi and yourself, guessing if the day would end with a fresh meal or a degrading empty can with barnacles growing on the side. 

As Hyun-su smiled at the two of you, he walked over to the stairs leading to the roof of the captain’s quarters and sat on the top, watching the sunset. No matter how many times you invited him to join the two of you, he always refused. It was nice you had a special activity to bond with Ah-yi over and he used that as his excuse every time.

It wasn’t even 10 minutes later as you were skinning the rare fish you’d caught with Ah-yi watching attentively as you explained the different anatomy parts to her that Hyun-su noticed a familiar face climbing the steps of the boat. He climbed down and started walking over to her while the two of you stayed distracted. You only looked over and noticed the two when you heard their footsteps. You carefully set down the knife and fish, wiping your hands on a stray towel beside you, and stood up to walk over beside Hyun-su. Ah-yi followed up behind you, grabbing onto the back of your shirt shyly. 

“I came too late, didn’t I?” Yi-kyung asked from in front of you as she looked at the girl shyly standing behind you. You decided not to answer considering you still weren’t sure how you felt about the whole situation of her leaving her child. Instead, Hyun-su answered her question.

“Not at all. You’re here now, right?”

She looked down and you could see the guilt and regret on her face. Slowly, you turned around to face Ah-yi. “That’s your mommy,” you told her and she looked at her hands shyly. “Why don’t you say hi.”

You lightly pushed her in the direction of Yi-kyung and the woman kneeled so she was face to face with her.

“Hi there,” you heard her whisper to the girl while you stood up to your full height. You wrapped your arms around Hyun-su’s waist and leaned into him while you watched them interact. Yi-kyung brought her into a hug and you smiled at the relief that settled on her face. 

Over the next few months, you and Hyun-su traveled through the city together, occasionally going back to visit Yi-kyung and Ah-yi but mainly wanting to give them the privacy a mother and daughter should have. It was adorable to come back and see the markings on the wall increase where Yi-kyung marked her daughter’s growth every day. Everything seemed to be going perfectly for the family of two.

Up until that day.

You had an awful feeling in the pit of your stomach for the entire day, feeling as if something bad was going to happen and you needed to get back to the two girls on the boat. When you shared your feelings with Hyun-su, he didn’t question it for a second, immediately going with you to rush back. 

When you arrived at the boat, you found a teenage girl covered in blood wearing the same dress as the little girl you’d grown to love while sitting on the bed blankets and jackets. You walked slowly towards her and she snapped her head up when she saw your feet enter her vision from where she had her head hung low. You kneeled in front of her, tentatively reaching a hand out to hold her cheek and she leaned into it.

Just like Ah-yi always did.

You let out a shaky breath as you finally voiced the question. 

“Ah-yi?”

She nodded, her eyes filled with fear.

Fear of resentment.

Fear of abandonment.

Fear of your fear. 

You just let out a sigh, whether it was from relief or surprise, you didn’t know. What you did know was that this was your Ah-yi and you would love her no matter what form she would take. You wrapped your arms around her and brought her in for a hug which she returned immediately. Relief coursed through her body so evidently that you could practically hear it. 

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay,” you dispelled her fears, bringing her closer and rocking her as she cried into your shoulder and told you what happened. You smoothed down her bloodied hair, not caring about how she was staining your clothes with the blood coating her. 

Once she calmed down a bit more, you gathered a rag from the bathroom.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” You promised her and she nodded. You turned and left, closing the door behind you and giving her a playful wink through the window which she giggled quietly at. Hyun-su followed you as you walked down the stairs of the boat and to the edge of the water. As you kneeled down to dip the rag into the lake's water, you started asking the questions on your mind about what Ah-yi told you happened.

“How did they even find this place? How did they find out about her being mixed?” You asked Hyun-su. His lips twitched into a small smile when he heard you refer to her as ‘mixed.’ He remembers you telling him the reasoning behind it like it was yesterday.

“I don’t like the word ‘monster.’ I always associated the word ‘monster’ with someone who acts evilly and neither of you are like that. I know you’re not entirely human anymore but I refuse to call you monsters. Human or not, you are still a good person.”

It was the moment he had set it in stone that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. 

“I don’t know,” he answered your questions. “But I have a bad feeling about the whole thing,” he paused momentarily before continuing. “What do you think we should do about the whole… touch thing she has?” He asked you and you frowned in thought.

“Well, I don’t think we should do anything. It’s a part of who she is and she shouldn’t feel the need to be ashamed of it. I don’t necessarily think she should use it on people, least of all those undeserving of it, but she can learn to control it. She doesn’t have to live in fear of herself.”

Just as Hyun-su was about to reply to your heartwarming statement, the two of you were interrupted by Ah-yi screaming and crying from the boat. You both ran in the direction of the scream and when you got there you saw Yi-kyung with her head down as blood dripped from her eye while Ah-yi was rubbing at a wound on her forearm. 

“What’s going on?” Hyun-su questioned in a panic. Seeing the bloody knife on the ground as well as a bloody pencil, you pieced together what happened. It seemed Hyun-su did too, if his sigh was any way to tell. “Why did you have to do this?”

Yi-kyung let out a few heavy breaths as she breathed through the pain coursing through her eye. “I’m her mother. No matter how she changes, or what form she takes… I need to recognize my little girl. I won’t ever lose her.”

It was then you realized the wound Yi-kyung inflicted on Ah-yi was black. You let out another sigh, anger, and understanding fighting for control of your emotions as you realized the purpose of her actions. She may have had better intentions behind the action, but how she carried it out was not the way to go. 

As Yi-kyung rose and left the scene, you sat down in front of Ah-yi, carefully reaching for her left arm where the wound had already healed. You gently used the rag to wipe down her arm, then her other arm, and then her face. You wiped down all the blood that tainted her smooth skin while she sat there silently, most likely in shock by what just happened. The domestic act, despite the violent acts that brought it about, brought a wave of emotion over Hyun-su as he watched the two of you. 

It made him realize how much he wanted a family with you one day. 

After Ah-yi was all clean, you gave her a pair of clothes to change into while you and Hyun-su went to the opposite side of the boat to talk while you waited for her. When she came out, you walked over to give her a hug which she gladly accepted. She squeezed you just as tightly as you squeezed her. You wished you could engrave it into her brain that you would never, could never, be afraid of her. 

Afterward, she went to sit on a barrel, swinging her legs back and forth while you watched her and leaned against Hyun-su’s embrace. It was all so calm until Yi-kyung appeared from the boat’s stairs and walked towards Ah-yi with purpose. Ah-yi, still angry at her mother for what she did, hopped off the barrel and started walking away but was stopped when Yi-kyung’s hand wrapped around her bicep and aggressively pulled her back. The woman shoved her daughter’s hands into a pair of pink gloves connected by a rope that she placed behind the girl’s neck. 

“Don’t take those off no matter what. Understand?” Yi-kyung told her daughter. You rushed forward, feeling anger simmer beneath your blood at the sudden display of aggression she started showing toward her daughter. 

“Hey, don’t you think this is a bit extreme?” You told her, standing in between the two girls. You felt Ah-yi grip your shirt from behind you. You could tell even if her body had grown more, she was still used to her childhood ways of having you protect her. 

“She’s my daughter, I will do as I see fit,” Yi-kyung told you sternly before swiftly turning around and walking back down the stairs of the boat, leaving the three of you alone. 

You turned around to face the girl and sighed when you saw her speed-walking to her sleeping space in the captain’s quarters and locking the door behind her. You and Hyun-su decided to just set up camp outside the door, leaving her alone for the time being so she could sort out her thoughts. 

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of Yi-kyung panicking. You instinctively looked around, looking to protect Ah-yi until you realized she wasn’t there. You rushed to stand up and ran to where her mother was breathing heavily and pacing back and forth.

“What’s going on? Where’s Ah-yi?” You questioned and she turned to face you.

“I don’t know! I was looking for her this morning and I can’t find her anywhere!”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself. Your thoughts were racing, trying to think of any place she could possibly be. When you finally landed on an answer, you started walking off.

“Where are you going?” Yi-kyung called out to you and you scoffed, not bothering to face her as you continued walking. 

“To find your daughter.”

When you got to the garden dome, the rusting doors were firmly closed unlike the previous times you were here with Ah-yi. Not deterred in any way, you rammed into the doors, successfully sending them flying open. You winced at the loud noise and walked in. 

“Ah-yi!” You yelled out, praying your instinct was right and she was here.

“Go away, Unni,” you heard her soft voice tell you from further into the garden. 

Sighing, you walked closer until you saw her sitting on the grass flooring while playing with a flower. 

“Ah-yi, why don’t you come home?” You tried but she just shook her head. When you realized she wasn’t going to say anything else, you walked closer.

Imagine your surprise when she scrambled away from you, desperate to keep the space between you two. 

“Ah-yi, what’s wrong?” You asked gently, stopping in your tracks to give her the space she desired. 

“Don’t touch me! I might hurt you!” She exclaimed fearfully through a sob and you cursed her mother for putting that image in her head. Taking another slow and gentle step toward her, you internally cheered when she didn’t move away. You took more steps toward her until you were sitting right in front of her and your hand reached for hers. 

When she pulled back, you gave her the best reassuring smile you could muster. “Sweetie, I know that you won’t hurt me. I promise.”

She hesitated but when you reached for her hands again she let you take them. You gave her a smile and squeezed her hand before pulling her into your chest. Your arms wrapped around her shoulders and held her tightly while she started crying more, her body wracking with the violent sobs she let out. 

“I just don’t understand why she hates me so much! Those men hurt me first!” She sobbed into the crook of your neck and you softly caressed her hair, brushing the loose leaves and grass strands out. 

“I know, I’m so sorry she did that to you. You definitely didn’t deserve that,” you reassured her and lifted your chin to rest your head on top of hers when you saw Hyun-su leaning against a wall while watching the two of you with a frown. You used a hand to wave him over and he slowly walked over so he was sitting about a foot away from the two of you. You looked back down at her and kissed her forehead lovingly. “I don’t want you to be afraid of yourself. You did what you had to do in that situation and no one is blaming you for it. Your mom is just…” you hesitated, looking to Hyun-su for support on how to explain the girl’s mother’s actions in a way that wouldn’t drag her name through the mud any more than it already was.

“Your mom was just worried,” Hyun-su intervened when he noticed your pleading gaze, bringing a hand to rest against Ah-yi’s back comfortingly. Ah-yi jumped a bit, startled, but otherwise didn’t do anything. “It was a shock to her to not only see you grow 10 years older in a few seconds but also to see how you dealt with those men. She didn’t want to lose you.”

“You mean she was scared. Scared of me,” she argued.

The both of you stayed quiet for a minute before you spoke again. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now because of what happened yesterday, but I promise you she loves you,” she started crying again and you just hugged her tighter to you. “And if you don’t believe me, at least know that I love you.”

It was the first time you’d expressed that to her in words and she looked up at you in surprise. 

“Really?”

The pure innocence and surprise in her tone were enough for a genuine smile to break out on your face. 

“Of course,” you told her sincerely and brushed her overgrown bangs to the side of her face. 

‘I guess I should trim those soon,’ you thought to yourself. 

“How could I not love you? You’re amazing!” You teased her lightly and she grinned at you. “You’re like a daughter to me, Ah-yi. I can’t see a life in which I wouldn’t love you.”

She dug her head into the crook of your neck again at your words. 

“I just stopped crying,” she complained with a whine that made you laugh. “Don’t make me start again!”

“Okay! Okay,” you caved and leaned back to look at her again. “Why don’t we go home now?” She hesitated for a moment before nodding decisively. 

The three of you stood up and you offered your hand to Ah-yi without a second of hesitation, something you could see in her eyes she appreciated. 

“Ah-yi,” Hyun-su said as the boat came into view in front of you all. You’d stopped by the lake where you saved her all those months ago on the way back and spent a few hours there. Both of you could tell she didn’t really want to go home yet so you extended the day as long as you could. 

She hummed and looked over at him from where you had her propped up on your back in a piggyback ride. She had stepped on a rock and dramatically complained about it until one of you just decided to pick her up and bring her along. 

That someone being you. 

“I…” he hesitated and you freed up a hand to reach over and give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I need you to do me a favor. When we get back, I need you to go easy on your mom.”

You could feel her body tensing on your back, not expecting his words to be that. You quickly intervened. “We don’t expect you to forgive her anytime soon. Hell, I don’t really expect you to ever forgive her, but I think we both agree that you should give her another chance,” you told her. She huffed and rested her chin on your head childishly. “We’ll talk to her whenever we get back and tell her what she did was wrong, but she was only trying to keep you with her.”

There were a few moments where Ah-yi stayed silent as you walked and you got nervous about what her reaction would be until she sighed. 

“Fine.”

You sighed in relief and smiled. What you wouldn’t tell her is that the ‘talk’ you would be having would most likely be a screaming match between the two of you while Hyun-su tried to be the mediator. 

It had been about a month since that day and you’d stayed with Ah-yi and Yi-kyung for about half of it. The rest of the time, you and Hyun-su traveled through the city together, enjoying the feeling of being free with each other and occasionally spying on the soldiers of the stadium when they went out on their supply runs. 

“I have a bad feeling,” Hyun-su told you one day while the two of you were washing a muddied shirt in the river. 

“Let’s go check it out then,” you told him, standing up and wiping your hands on your trousers but he held his hand up. 

“I… I don’t think you should come with me.”

You looked at him, feeling shocked and slightly hurt but masking it under a calm exterior. “O-oh. Oka-”

“I just mean it feels dangerous. I don’t really know how to explain it,” he interrupted you quickly, hesitantly taking one of your hands and squeezing it reassuringly. 

You gave him a small frown. “But I don’t want you to be in any danger either.”

He smiled confidently at you and stared deeply into your eyes. “I promise I will be okay. Just stay in the shed until I get back. I’ll be back in a few hours at most.”

After a moment of hesitation, your eyes flicking between the broken down shed behind you and Hyun-su’s dark mocha brown eyes, you nodded in agreement. He smiled at you before turning in the opposite direction and starting to walk away. Just as he started to get out of arm's length, you tightened the grip you had around his hand. He turned back to you, tilting his head in question but your head was down, your eyes focused on his hand where you gently played with his fingers. 

“Please return to me,” you whispered, barely audible to him and he sighed. Taking a step forward, he wrapped his arms around you, one resting on the back of your head and the other around your waist. 

“I will, Lucky. I always will.”

Eun-yu walked down the empty street of the city, darkness clouding every corner and making her jump at every noise. She wasn’t nearly as experienced as you when it came to venturing off alone and outside of the stadium so it was all new to her. This was her first time out of the stadium, let alone all by herself, and she had barely any idea of what to do or where to go. It all started when she was waiting for you at the exit you used to go through when you went on your personal expeditions. 

She wasn’t dumb. She knew you were leaving every day and trying to hurt yourself, yet every day you came back safe. Maybe a little broken and bruised at times, but alive nonetheless. Despite the two of you not being close, she still cared about you more than anything. You were the closest thing to a friend that she had. She was positive you didn’t remember this, but she had helped comfort you one night as you cried after another - but also thankfully your last - attempt to leave this world. You told her about the force that kept you alive, protecting you from monsters and from yourself. You told her about how you blame yourself for Hyun-su’s disappearance and how he was most likely dead. You told her everything. Afterward, you ended up passing out in her embrace and sleeping the entirety of the next day away while she stayed by your side to ward off anyone wanting to wake you. 

Once you woke up, you seemed normal. The same expressionless look on your face as you went on with your day. It stayed that way for a long time. Eun-yu tried her best to do subtle things to help you; to make you feel more wanted and make you blame yourself less.

Until one day, you never came back. 

You leaving and never returning is what led her to be standing at the exit not even a week ago, feeding some of her rations to a small stray kitten. It’s what led her to stay there even when Chan-young approached her and asked her what she was doing. It’s what made her stay even after a young girl she hadn’t recognized revealed herself. It’s what made her stay despite the pleas to go back inside from Chan-young and allowed her to see the woman she thought had died show up and take the girl with her. 

It is also what led her here, all alone looking for you or the girl or Yi-kyung. Whilst finding you was her main goal, she would be satisfied with any of the three. 

She lost Chan-young somewhere along the way after he was poisoned by the girl accompanying that old man but she didn’t let that deter her. 

Now, in the dark shadows looming over the alleyways she walked through, a long metal pipe clutched in one of her hands, she searched the abandoned city with the need to find you forcing down any fear she was feeling. The unoccupied hand had an old piece of clothing wrapped around it, protecting any dirt from getting into the wound where she protected Yeong-su from that soldier.

She often wondered if you knew how much you inspired her to be brave and protect those around her.

After some time, she found herself standing in front of a large greenhouse. Most of the windows were broken and she could see the plants inside had overgrown their once pristinely gardened form, but it was gorgeous regardless. The moonlight shone through the broken glass and cast spotlights of glimmering luminescence across the vegetation. She took a moment to admire everything, noting how you would’ve loved a space like this until she heard a growling sound from behind her and her guard immediately went back up. Moving the pipe so it was tightly grasped in her hands like a baseball bat, she held it defensively and slowly crept closer to the source of the growling. The large crater in the ground made her sick, reminding her of the tragedy that happened less than a year ago when the government tried to kill as many people as possible in order to ‘save humanity from itself.’ 

As she got closer, she raised the pipe over her head, ready to strike at any moment. The growling of the monster got louder as she approached and she prepared herself to swing until-

“He won’t attack you.”

Eun-yu turned around, facing the new voice and seeing the same girl from before. She lowered the pipe, letting it hang loosely at her side as the girl took slow steps toward her. Since she was almost positive this girl would have nothing to do with you, she instead asked about Yi-kyung. “I’m looking for Yi-kyung. You know where she is, right?” The girl stayed silent, gradually getting closer as she continued with her measured footsteps. “I have to meet with her.”

The two girls stared at each other as the younger girl approached. Silence stilled the air until it was broken.

“Mom… the people… they’re all bad.”

“Did you say ‘Mom’?” Eun-yu questioned, her face portraying her confusion and shock.

‘She couldn’t mean Yi-’

“You’re no different,” the girl concluded, taking her last few steps forward more quickly and launching Eun-yu down into the hole behind her. Feeling the ground disappear from below her feet and the wind rush through her hair, she screamed. 

A scream.

A scream was what stopped you from continuing your washing of Hyun-su and your clothes. You snapped your head in the direction of the noise so fast you were worried you got whiplash. Unconsciously clutching the current piece of clothing you’d been washing in your hands, you started sprinting in the direction of the noise. As you got closer, the area around you got brighter and you noticed it becoming increasingly more familiar to you. It was when you saw the familiar metal canisters that you realized you were near the boat.

It was also when you realized the boat was on fire. 

You gasped as you saw the flames licking away at the deck in the distance, pushing your body past its limits as you forced yourself to go faster, faster, faster. You were beyond terrified at the implications the fire had.

‘Was this the bad feeling Hyun-su had?’ You asked yourself. You tried your best to stay as positive as possible until you got there but it was difficult with all the possibilities swirling in your mind. However, there was one possibility you clung to: while the boat burning was bad in itself, maybe nobody was on it.

Maybe.

When you got to the stairs of the boat, you climbed them as quickly as you could, ignoring the pain in your foot when you slipped down one and ended up stepping on it wrong.

‘That’s a problem for later.’

You got to the top, not seeing anybody in the burning embers surrounding you. Quickly covering your mouth with the still-damp piece of fabric in your hands and thanking yourself for unconsciously holding onto it, you ran around the top of the deck, looking for any signs of life while simultaneously praying for none. Seeing nothing, your mind ran at a hundred miles per hour as you tried to decide if that was a good or bad thing. 

“Cha Hyun-su!” You screamed out, the use of his last name representing your evident panic. “Seo Ah-yi!” It was when you circled the captain’s quarters that you saw a familiar lean body. “Seo Yi-kyung!” 

You rushed forward, sliding down to your knees as you reached her and turning her onto her back. You winced as you saw the burn marks and ash littering across the side of her face. You brought the wet clothing down from where it covered your mouth and nose, quickly replacing it with the cuff of your jacket as you used the wet fabric to cover Yi-kyung’s nose. The fire caught onto your pants and you scrambled to put it out, letting out muffled screams into your sleeve as it burned your skin. 

You watched as the small baby monster you knew to be Ah-yi’s friend approached you and Yi-kyung. You were mainly confused about why it showed up here willingly, usually, monsters were terrified of fire and would avoid it at all costs but that didn’t seem to be the case. 

“Go away! Get out of here!” You screamed at the baby but it just babbled at you, running up to you and setting out the fire on your pants. Then, it began to circle around the two of you, using its body to roll out any fire that got too close. You quietly sobbed, your tears feeling like ice against your flaming skin. “Thank you,” you whispered to the small creature, feeling so grateful yet guilty for the way it was putting itself in danger for you. 

Suddenly, as you felt yourself fading out of consciousness, the exhaustion from the run over, and the pain in your foot getting to you, you heard a familiar voice call out for you.

“Lucky!”

Hyun-su...

Eun-yu screamed out as she fell until she quieted, accepting her death to be by falling down a large hole while not knowing if her only friend was dead or alive. Just as she lost all hope, the sound of something whipping through the wind above caught her attention along with a familiar large wing made of bone and muscle only. It was only for a moment that she caught a glimpse of the boy’s face before his arm wrapped around her body and they shot up. 

Reaching the top, Hyun-su swung around so his body would take the brunt of the fall and they crashed. Sliding across the concrete, he used his wing to slow them down as much as possible and keep her as unharmed as he could. Barely taking a minute to breathe when they came to a stop, Hyun-su opened his arm and rolled Eun-yu off before standing back up. 

“Cha Hyun-su,” the girl tried, struggling to lift herself from the ground. Receiving no response as he continued walking toward Ah-yi, who was watching curiously from the other side of the crater, she tried again. “Cha Hyun-su!” She finally made it to her feet as she screamed.

Hyun-su let out a breath. He took a moment to force his eyes to return to their natural state instead of the endless void that would consume him when in his monster state before slowly turning around to face her.

“Are you really just gonna leave like that?” She asked him, more quietly this time as he faced her. His wing flapped lightly at his side, whistling through the wind in an ethereally beautiful way. 

At least, that’s how you would often describe it.

“Were you expecting a hug or something?” He asked her in a blank tone and she looked at him with exasperated annoyance. 

“Yeah, I was. I expected at least a ‘Glad to see you. How’ve you been?’” She retorted back at him, getting angrier by the moment at the completely blank look on his face. 

“But I’m not glad to see you,” he told her and she couldn’t help but expect it. She knew they weren’t close. Nowhere near as close as you were with Hyun-su. You always tried so hard to make him feel included, to fight for his rights even when Eun-hyuk kept you as far away from him as possible. After you tried to break the lock of the door that one time, he gave strict instructions to everyone who had a guard duty that they were not to allow you near the room. You would always leave Eun-hyuk with the same phrase after each failed attempt to see the boy.

“You’re a coward. You won’t go up the stairs to retrieve the residents’ items yourself and then you treat the man who does do it like scum. I can’t believe you.”

It was what made her like you in the first place. While she knew you and Hyun-su had known each other for a brief period before the apocalypse, she couldn’t help but admire how you stood up for the boy without a second thought. She was pretty sure she realized your feelings for him before even you did. 

“You weren’t supposed to know how to leave the stadium. You should’ve just stayed away,” Hyun-su’s voice broke her out of her brief flash of memories. 

“It was you all along…” she started, taking a stuttering step toward him. “That night with the rope… all the times she tried to kill herself… it was you who saved her, wasn’t it?”

By the lack of surprise or questioning on his face, she knew her answer. They stayed silent for a few more seconds, Eun-yu waiting for an answer and Hyun-su trying to provide one. Though his face remained monotonous, he was trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t give her too much information but would satisfy her concern and need to know. 

“We crossed paths. I figured since we weren’t strangers I might as well help her out. I know what it’s like. She doesn’t deserve that kind of a death. That’s it. Nothing more,” he looked at her, making sure his words weren’t just floating in one ear and out the other. “You understand?” 

Without waiting for her to respond, he turned around again, rolling his eyes.

‘I have to get back to-’ 

“That’s bullshit and we both know it!” Eun-yu yelled from behind him, interrupting his thoughts. She took fast purposeful steps toward him as she continued to speak. “You’re in love with her, she was your everythin-!”

Hyun-su brought his wing down and scraped the concrete behind him, only a few feet away from where Eun-yu was standing. She held her breath, waiting for his next move and cursing herself for the shiver of fear that ran up her spine at his actions.

‘You would never fear him like this.’

Seeing him not make any more moves, she tried again. Prying her feet off the floor from where the strange acid was kicked up by the large appendage, she started walking again only for Hyun-su to slam his wing down again. This time, the toe of her front boot had melted off and she could see the black socks she wore underneath peeking through. She mentally slapped herself for how the breath she let out was shaky. Forcing herself to peel her boots off the ground again, she tried to take another step when suddenly a hand latched onto her bicep and pulled her back, sending her tumbling to the ground. 

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” The large man, Ho-sang+ asked. His shoulders were draped with a homemade camouflage outfit made of grass and hay. The man raised his shotgun, aiming it toward Hyun-su who had still yet to turn around. “You monster piece of shit, what are you doing here?” The boy turned to look over his shoulder at the new voice. “Get gone!”

Right as Hyun-su turned back around to keep walking, Eun-yu spoke up again.

“Wait!” She scrambled to her feet, intending on running over to Hyun-su but the older man grabbed her shoulders and held her back. “Cha Hyun-su. Cha Hyun-su!” He came to a halt again and it was enough of a tell he was waiting for her to continue. “She…” she began, hesitating to tell him this in case her gut feeling was wrong. “She’s been missing for months. Do you know… I mean… is she…” She couldn't force herself to get her words out, only able to speak in between shaky breaths as she started to think of the worst possible outcomes. If her gut feeling was wrong and you weren’t really with Hyun-su, she didn’t know what she would do.  

Hyun-su turned back around to look at her over his shoulder. Keeping eye contact with her for a few moments as he debated whether to tell her or not, he relented.

“She’s alive.”

Turning back around, he could hear the breaths of relief Eun-yu and the older man both released, albeit for different reasons. 

Following Ah-yi, they both walked away from the two humans. He waited until they got to the edge of the river to start talking.

“Why did you do that?”

“I don't like her,” Ah-yi responded.

“So why don't you like her?” He pushed, 

“Every human is the same. She’s no different,” she yelled angrily before her voice dropped to a mumble he was just barely able to hear. “The only human to be an exception is Unni.”

Hyun-su looked at her when she stopped, the anger being shown clearly on her face and he was confused about why she was so riled up. The quiet atmosphere was only interrupted by the hooting of the owls in the nearby trees. 

“I was curious about humans at first… because both Mom and Unni are human. So I said ‘hi’ and they…” She took a shaky breath in before continuing. “They hurt me. They yelled and they pushed and... and they hurt me too. And they killed all my friends and monsters!” She screamed out, her voice heavy with raw emotion. “Leaving just me.”

“They were just scared,” Hyun-su tried to soothe her anger and pain as her eyes filled with tears. “Afraid of losing someone.”

“Then I'll give them a reason. Show them how scary it was,” her heavy breathing slowly evened out and Hyun-su sighed. He knew you would be able to help her with a situation like this better than he would. From the very first day, you always seemed to have a way of calming her down and helping her through the more difficult times.

“Let's get out of here. Yeah?” He suggested as tears began to fall down her cheeks, hitting the pavement below with an imperceptible plop. 

“There's no place for me. My house is gone,” she told him. 

“What… do you mean?” He asked after a few silent beats. 

“I… no longer need you. Not you, or Mom…” she paused to calm herself but couldn’t stop the sob that came with her next words. “Or Unni. Not anymore.”

Hyun-su let out a slight gasp before sprinting in the direction of the boat. He hoped his suspicions were wrong. He hoped Ah-yi wouldn’t do that to her mother.

But he knew she would.

He’d heard the countless nights you spent with her in your arms as you consoled her and reassured her about her mother’s love when she was positive it no longer existed. He knew how much she hated the woman who gave birth to her, hated her for the love she once had but lost on that fateful day. 

Hyun-su ignored the sharp pain in his lungs as he sprinted toward the boat, cursing lightly when he saw the fire engulfing it from afar. Finally reaching it, he ran around looking desperately for Yi-kyung and screaming her name. 

It wasn’t until he found both her and you lying on the ground that his panic started to take over. 

“Lucky!” He screamed, running towards you and dropping to his knees. He quickly picked both of you up, the weight not a struggle for him but the positioning of your bodies being a bit awkward. He ended up with Yi-kyung on his back piggyback style and you being held in his arms like his bride. Seeing the small creature passed out only a few feet away, he picked it up too and put it on your lap as he walked off the boat, letting the home full of memories burn itself to the ground forevermore. 

Hyun-su walked towards the swan boat about a quarter mile away from the boat. Gently setting Yi-kyung down first, he placed you down with your head in his lap. He cursed himself. He couldn’t believe he had just left you alone. He couldn’t believe you would go into such a dangerous place willingly. 

But then again, he couldn’t be surprised. You were like that, so selfless and kind. If you saw the boat on fire you would never allow yourself to stay behind while there was a potential of the people you loved being on that boat. 

He was thankful you at least were smart enough to cover your nose and mouth when you were there. The ripped and slightly scorched shirt covering Yi-kyung’s mouth was one he recognized to be yours. And although it wasn’t a great replacement, he saw how the cuff of your jacket sleeve was loosely placed over your own mouth, slipping once you’d fallen unconscious. 

As he was picking the bits of seared wood and singed fabric from your hair, a small whisper of his name drew his attention behind him to Yi-kyung.

“Hyun-su…”

He turned around, making sure not to jostle you around too much as he looked at her. Her face was burned, fresh wounds scarring the flesh of her cheeks that would forever alter her appearance. 

“Are you okay, Yi-kyung?”

“It’s all my fault it’s like this,” she started. Hyun-su stayed silent as she continued. “I just wanted her to be safe like you were,” she whimpered, it was unclear whether it was from the pain on her skin or the pain in her heart. “All I wanted was for her to…” she sobbed but no tears came out yet. She was dehydrated and wounded and it was clear she wouldn’t make it without medical help they no longer had. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Hyun-su refuted.

Yi-kyung groaned as she sat up, leaning heavily against the edge of the swan boat. “I should’ve killed her.”

Hyun-su’s eyes widened at her words. While he knew that was what she had wanted when her baby was first born, he didn’t know it was still something she thought about. 

“In the back of my mind, I always had that thought. I know she must’ve felt it when I had those thoughts,” she breathed heavily, her breaths sounding gritty and labored. She looked at the girl lying in Hyun-su’s lap, feeling angry, regretful, and jealous, but mostly grateful. Grateful she had at least you to look up to and show her the way when she couldn’t. “I know she would always tell her about how she hated me,” she pointed at you weakly. “I know she always saw her as more of a mother than she did me.” 

“You’re wrong,” Hyun-su protested. “While Ah-yi loves Lucky, she needs you as her mother. I know because I was there too through all those days,” he looked down at you, eyes still shut and sweat clinging to your skin. “So was she,” he breathed out a sigh and looked back at Yi-kyung. “You said you were a bad mother, but you know that’s just not true.”

“The fault is all mine,” tears fell down her cheeks as she spoke, a soothing touch to her wounded face. “I was the one who made her like this,” she blamed herself, Hyun-su’s reassuring words either not registering in her brain or being completely ignored. “No, this is good,” she accepted. She knew her end would be soon. “It turning out like this is for the best. This way, I… I don’t have to kill my daughter.,” she sobbed.

“Were you really going to kill her?” He asked incredulously. At her lack of response, he continued. “Why? You’re her mother! So why?” 

“I don’t deserve to be,” she cut him off. “I could never be worthy of her, not when I treated her so differently than you did. Than she did,” she explained. She couldn’t fathom saying your name, feeling unworthy of being near you when she always had those terrible thoughts of hurting her own flesh and blood. You had always treated her so much better than she had, treating her like your own daughter, whether it was by blood or not. “I had the same thought hundreds of times. ‘Why is she cursed like this?’ Why?” She started sobbing again, the guilt and blame she put on herself for the past year torturing her soul. “It’s all my fault. My awful thoughts and desires turned her… into a… monster.”

Hyun-su scoffed. “Yeah, so what?” He looked at her and the surprise of his words stopped her crying. “Are monsters really all bad?”

Yi-kyung sighed and just as Hyun-su was going to continue talking, the soft babbling of the baby monster sounded out again, drawing both their attention to the mini creature. He gently picked it up, holding it in his arms as he spoke again. “This one saved you. Saved both of you. Saved you because you’re family…” his eyes filled with tears but he refused to let his voice break. “You see, monsters feel and recognize people. Because they were human once too.”

He hugged the monster to his chest, and the conversation ended when Yi-kyung faded out of consciousness. 

The group sat around the campfire, Ha-ni snuggled up against Chan-young’s side while the other two sat alone.

“So, which is it?” Eun-yu asked. “A brother? A boss? A dad? What are you to each other?”

“Why the hell does it matter? Just eat and get lost,” the older man evaded the question. 

“Um… why don’t you come back with us? You’ll be safer there,” Park Chan-young offered and Ha-ni’s head perked up in excitement. 

“Are we getting married then?” She asked, moving closer to his side and resting her head against his shoulder.

“Uh, that’s… that’s not what I’m saying,” he repudiated. 

“Safe? You guys have just been lucky,” the older man rolled his eyes at the suggestion. “That, or you don’t know better.”

“I think you might be underestimating some of us.”

“I don’t trust humans, okay?” He concluded.

“I’m not surprised. But you don’t trust monsters either?” Eun-yu integrated herself into the conversation once more. “And what about her?” She asked, tilting her head at Ha-ni. “You trust her?” He didn’t respond and it was silent for a minute. “Sure seems like it.”

Ha-ni, noticing how the atmosphere was turning strange and uncomfortable, interrupted. “Let’s go with them. Let’s go together, teacher, hmm?” She insisted, leaning forward in her seat to emphasize her wants. “Hey, let’s go!”

The older man looked thoughtful for a moment, considering his companion’s words before noticing something in the distance. 

“What are you doing here?” He screamed accusingly, raising his shotgun threateningly toward the figure approaching. 

Hyun-su walked forward. Yi-kyung was tied against his back using the long-sleeved shirt you used to cover your mouth in the fire meanwhile you were held in his arms, cradled against his chest protectively. 

He raised his head slightly to look at them, continuing his stride forward despite the threat of the gun in front of him. 

In the blink of an eye, Ha-ni appeared next to Ho-sang as he held the gun and moved his arms, forcing it to face the ground just as he pulled the trigger. It hit the rocks harmlessly and she looked at Hyun-su curiously. 

Taking a deep breath, he slowly lowered himself to his knees and placed Yi-kyung on the ground after untying her. Keeping you in his arms as he rose again, he held you close as Eun-yu rushed forward. Stopping just a foot in front of him, she looked down at you in shock. She reached her hand out to caress your cheek but stopped herself at the last second. 

“Please help,” Hyun-su begged and Eun-yu lifted her chin to look at him. “This was the only place I could turn to.”

Both Chan-young and Ha-ni walked over to where Yi-kyung was lying on the ground, kneeling down to properly assess the damage on her body. 

“How did she get like this? And the kid? The girl who left with you?” Eun-yu asked before looking down at you still in Hyun-su’s arms and finally allowing her fingers to skim along the feverish skin of your cheek as she whispered your name, stunned. “And what about her? Is she okay? Why isn’t she awake?”

“First, let’s get them both inside,” Chan-young stopped her questioning before Hyun-su could respond. Ha-ni helped him prop the woman on her back, fully intending to bring her into the trailer until a gunshot sounded. 

Eun-yu froze in shock, paralyzed by seeing Hyun-su stumble back with a gunshot to the shoulder. He fell to his knees once more, his grip on you loosening but refusing to let go. He gently set your lower body down onto his lap, his now free hand going to hold his wounded shoulder while the other held your upper body to his chest. He ignored the anger that stirred in his chest when he saw how close the shot came to your face, just missing by a few inches. Clenching his eyes closed tightly and blocking out the sound of everyone talking and screaming around him, he forced the familiar feeling of his monster down. When he finally looked up and opened his eyes he saw Eun-yu holding Ha-ni against her chest with blade centimeters from her neck. 

“- and I’ll cut her fucking head off.”

Ha-ni scoffed at her words with an annoyed smile but didn’t try to fight back or move away. 

“Way to prove my point about humans,” Ho-sang told her, not lowering his gun. “Pulling this shit after I saved your life is rich.”

“I said I’ll take him with me. I said I’ll take them so just… what's your problem?” Eun-yu begged the man, tears forming along her waterline as the situation continued to go downhill. 

“You’re with monsters,” Ho-sang explained, glaring at her from his spot. “That makes you a threat. And you call yourself human? Jesus.”

“You call yourself human when you just almost shot a girl in the face? He might not be human but she is!” She screamed at him and continued when she saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes. “And what makes you special? How can you be sure you’re gonna stay immune?” She questioned but he stayed silent. “What if you were to start showing symptoms? Seems a bullet is your only option. Since monsters have to die.”

Hyun-su groaned in pain before trying to stop her from baiting the man. “Stop it,” his words were spoken weakly as more blood spilled from his wound. He covered it with the fabric of his shirt, trying to avoid getting as much blood on you as possible but the splatters of blood across your forehead and cheeks told him it was already a bit too late for that. 

“And her?” Eun-yu continued, ignoring the boy’s warnings and protests as she started to speak about Ha-ni. “Could you put a bullet in her?” Her words were spoken softly but Ho-sang heard it loud and clear. He stayed quiet again, not willing to speak of the situation he feared the most. “How about I save you the trouble?” She offered.

“Oh, yeah. So this is who you are,” he finally spoke, nodding in disdain at her actions. 

“Stop it,” Hyun-su tried again but again was ignored. “Don’t do this Eun-yu,” he begged. 

Suddenly, Ha-ni grabbed the wrist holding the knife to her throat, and twisted it away from herself, spinning around so the knife was now in her possession and the tip was pointing directly at Eun-yu’s neck. There was a collective gasp from everyone watching and Ho-sang lowered his guns in shock. “Ha-ni!” He yelled at her as she stuck the point of the blade in Eun-yu’s neck, causing a trail of blood to leak out. 

After a moment of tense silence, she pulled the knife away and dropped it to the floor where it clattered against the rocks loudly. Pushing her forward, she walked over and entered her car, entering it and called for Ho-sang to join her. 

“In this life, we weren’t meant to be,” she started, talking to Chan-young as her companion got into the car and started it up. “Maybe the next one. Get rid of the girl though.”

The group watched as the two drove off before Chan-young turned to Hyun-su. “Are you okay to move? How’s your shoulder?”

Hyun-su pulled his hand away, the wound already having closed and the blood surrounding it was the only reminder that it was ever there in the first place. He nodded. “It’s okay.”

Chan-young took a few steps closer to him before kneeling beside him and looking at where you rested in his arms. The pain from your ankle and slight burns showed on your leg but you luckily didn’t seem to have any difficulty breathing or major damage. “And her? Are you still okay to carry her?” 

Hyun-su nodded once again while he moved his empty hand to once again rest under your knees and stood up. “Yes, I’m okay.”

“I think we’d better go. Monsters may have heard the gunfire,” Chan-young concluded and walked behind Hyun-su as he started the path to his chosen destination, whatever that place may be.

Eun-yu kneeled down to grab her bag and knife before looking back at Hyun-su. “Let’s go.”

He sighed as she started to walk behind him, taking a moment to look at you and make sure you were alright before he followed. He would have to wipe his shoulder down and clean the blood from your face before you woke up. He didn’t feel like worrying you about his injury just yet. 

Sighing once more, he turned around and started to follow the two. 

They arrived at the destination Chan-young had brought them to. It was a hospital, or at least it used to be. As they got inside, there was broken glass everywhere and scratches from an unnatural creature lining the floor. It was clear it was no longer the medical place it used to be. 

Setting Yi-kyung down on the hospital bed they found, Chan-young turned to Hyun-su and asked, “What happened to her?”

“A fire started where she was staying,” he started to explain, still holding you since all the other hospital beds they could find were not exactly clean. At least the one Yi-kyung was lying on didn’t have any blood stains on it. He didn’t mind though. “I think there was no way out. She was already unconscious by the time I made it in.”

“It’s carbon monoxide poisoning,” Chan-young concluded from the evidence provided before standing up urgently and turning to Eun-yu. “Something like a small gas tank should be lying around. Go look for some,” he then turned to Hyun-su who was getting ready to stand and help them. “You should probably stay here,” he told him and Hyun-su stayed silent for a moment as he looked at you in his arms before nodding in agreement. He moved to lean against the wall as the other two went off in different directions to search for the gas tank. 

After a while, there was the faint sound of someone yelling, “I found one!” Soon after, both Eun-yu and Chan-young returned to the bed, the boy carrying a gas tank in his hands which he set up next to it. Expertly, he plugged the tube into the tank and turned the air on, testing the pressure and how much oxygen was left in the tank. 

“Does it work?” Eun-yu asked just as the arrow pointed to ‘REFILL’ and Chan-young sighed. “What? What is it?”

“It’s out of oxygen,” he explained.

“So what happens now?”

“Her organs will start to fail without… without a steady supply of oxygen,” he told them before his head fell forward. “Fuck me.”

“Enough of that crap. Is there any other way?” Eun-yu begged, unwillingly to give up so soon. 

“It’s already too late.”

“Don’t say that unless you’ve tried everything,” she told him seriously, she then moved over to start picking Yi-kyung up by her arms. “Park Chan-young, help me carry her. Let’s get her to the stadium. We have to leave now,” she ordered but he didn’t move and Hyun-su just buried his head in your hair emotionally. “I said help me carry her!” She sobbed, setting her back down when he still didn’t try to help her and covering her face with her hands. 

The group just finished moving both you and Yi-kyung to another room, this one finally having another bed that wasn’t stained with blood and smelling of a rotting corpse. Chan-young helped Eun-yu carry Yi-kyung to the room while Hyun-su held you close, only letting you go when they found the bed for you to lie on. 

Despite how his monster body protested, he allowed Eun-yu to have a moment alone with you and Yi-kyung in the room, choosing instead to wait on the bench outside. He saw through the crack in the door how she held your hand gently and spoke words he couldn’t hear. He watched as she set your hand down across your stomach and retreated from the room to sit on the bench with him, leaving an empty seat between them. 

“Are you feeling better?” Hyun-su asked her once she sat down. She sighed quietly and he took that as her response. “We did the best we could.”

“Are you comfortable with this?” She asked him, not understanding how he could be so calm in a moment like this. “Is leaving her to die like that really the right thing to do?”

“Now that I think about it… I think it’s what she wanted,” he construed and she turned her head to look at him. 

“What?”

“Her boat was deliberately burned, but she chose to stay aboard.”

“Why, though?” Eun-yu whispered. “Why would Yi-kyung do that?”

“I wanna ask you something,” Hyun-su told her and she stayed quiet as she waited for him to speak. “How’s everyone doing? I’ve tried asking Lucky but she always gets really quiet when I do.”

Eun-yu’s lips quirked up minutely at the familiar term of endearment but the memory of her grief overwhelmed it. She took a few deep breaths to compose herself before answering him. “Hye-in and Su-yeong are dead. And Yoon Ji-su, too.”

Now Hyun-su knew why you would never talk about it, why you would always get quiet and have that far-away look in your eyes when he asked. He always figured you just didn’t know, that maybe you got separated at some point, but somewhere deep down he knew that was just wishful thinking. While he hated that you didn’t confide in him, he understood where you were coming from. Even a year isn’t always enough time to heal enough to talk about something so tragic. 

“Just like that, they’re all gone,” she continued in a whisper. He turned his head away from her as a tear fell down his cheek before she spoke up more loudly this time, masking the emotion in her voice with false confidence. “Now let me ask you a question,” she said. He turned to look at her but she was looking in the direction of where you lay on the hospital bed, head tilted to the side as you breathed easily. “How is she doing, really? Is she better?” Her voice almost broke as she unwillingly thought back to how you were feeling during your time in the stadium but she was able to mask it with a cough. While she was hoping you were doing better now that you were with Hyun-su and hopefully didn’t blame yourself for his disappearance anymore, she had to be sure.

“She’s doing good. She still has her bad days but overall she’s doing better.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, a single tear falling down her cheek. “Thank you.”

He turned his head to look back at her and saw she was now staring at him. “Hm?”

“You brought her back to me. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t at least see her one more time. If I didn’t make sure she was still alive. So thank you.” 

He nodded. “Of course.”

“I also,” she continued. “Want to thank you for returning to her,” she shot him a watery smile as her eyes brimmed with tears. “God knows she deserves it.”

When you woke up, the first things you saw were the blaring lights of the white lighting fixture above you. Groaning, you brought a hand up to cover your eyes and turned your head only to gasp when you saw the burned face of Yi-kyung on the bed next to yours. Quickly throwing your legs over the side of the bed and standing up to check on her, you let out a yelp of pain as you stepped on your wounded ankle and crumpled to the floor. 

Breathing heavily, you cursed yourself before hearing the sound of fast-paced footsteps entering the room you were in. You leaned up on one hand and saw a face you’d longed to see for weeks. 

“Eun-yu?”

The girl snapped her head to where you sat and gasped out your name, running toward you and crouching down. She grabbed your arms and helped you stand up, making you sit on the edge of the bed so she could check out your foot. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked, concerned but all you could think about was the woman breathing unevenly on the bed behind her. 

“Fine, fine,” you said dismissively, only half listening to her concerns. “How is Yi-kyung? Is she okay?”

Eun-yu slapped your arm lightly. “You were passed out for half a day, let me worry about you.”

You gave a small chuckle at her words, reaching your arms out to wrap around her shoulders. “It’s good to see you, Eun-yu. I’ve missed you.”

She exhaled slowly, wrapping her own arms around you and letting herself relax in your embrace. 

“Wait, what am I doing here?” You asked as you softly pushed her away from you. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the stadium? Are you okay?” You gasped, firing questions at her like a machine gun prior to grabbing the sides of her puffy jacket sleeves and pulling her a few inches closer as you looked her over for any injuries. Other than the small wound on her neck, she seemed to be relatively unharmed.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” she scolded lightly and lifted your wounded and swollen ankle up. “First, we should fix this up. I’m sure there’s some tape or something around here,” she started to walk away but turned back to look at you. “Don’t move,” she scolded with a finger pointed at you accusingly. You held your hands up in a surrender motion and laughed. 

After a while of looking around the room, she walked back with a wad of medical tape in her hand. You watched in awe as she started to expertly wrap your foot with the medical tape in a way that would help keep it in place. Noticing your stare, she explained. “I used to do ballet. I sprained my ankle and had to do this every day.”

“Well lucky me then,” you told her with a smile that she returned once she finished. She then cut the ripped pant leg off at the knee and cut the singed parts off. Using the burned-free part of the fabric, she gave you her hand to squeeze as she poured the clear liquid inside a bottle of vodka on your burns. You screamed and stuffed your sleeve into your mouth, both stopping yourself from breaking your teeth and muffling your pained noises. After finishing disinfecting the wound, she got to work on wrapping the cut fabric around your burns to prevent any further dirt from entering it.

Breathing heavily through your pain, you grabbed the nearly empty bottle of vodka after she set it down and lifted it to your nose. 

It looked like vodka.

It smelled like vodka.

Taking a sip, your face scrunched up in displeasure. 

Definitely vodka, although something was off. 

“Why is it so watery?” You asked her. Eun-yu’s head snapped up to see you bring the bottle to your lips again to take another sip. 

Grabbing the bottle away from you, she smirked and brought the bottle to her lips, drinking the last of the liquid while you whined. After sighing overexaggeratedly, she smiled at you and handed the bottle back to you. You shot her a glare “For one, when are you ever going to find a steal like that again? Had to make sure it lasted!” You laughed. “And second, regular vodka is too potent to use as a disinfectant by itself, you have to water it down so you don’t burn away your nerves.”

She secured the fabric with the medical tape and tapped your knee to signal she was finished. She helped you down from the table and let you wrap an arm around her shoulder as you limped over to the bench outside of the room. You thanked her just as you saw another familiar face appear around the corner. “Park Chan-young? What are you doing here?”

“Ah, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” He asked instead of answering your question. 

“I’m feeling okay, my ankle hurts a little but not too bad,” you told him with a smile before it faded and your head turned to look at Yi-kyung through the still-opened door. “She’s not going to make it, she?”

You heard the two of them sigh behind you and you let out a shaky breath. Tilting your head up, you tried to stop the tears from falling. 

It was silent for a while, the only sounds were the ragged breathing from Yi-kyung in the next room until Chan-young spoke. 

“Cha Hyun-su, was it?” He asked and your head snapped up to look at him while Eun-yu who was sitting beside you didn’t even flinch. “That’s the monster that killed Mr. Kim, right?”

You opened your mouth to ask what he meant when Eun-yu spoke before you could.

“It gets on my nerves when you use the word ‘kill’.”

He sat down next to her and leaned forward in his chair with his elbows resting on his knees. “Well, nonetheless, that’s how it went down.”

“Your curiosity will cost you someday,” at his silence to her words, she sighed and continued. “Mr. Kim was displaying symptoms.”

The news of this story was no surprise to you. While you weren’t there when it happened, you do remember how Eun-yu had relayed the story to you only a few nights after the incident. You didn’t know she knew it was Hyun-su though, and to be honest you felt slightly betrayed. 

“I don’t know when it’d begun.”

“Wait,” Chan-young started, gasping at the new information. “But why didn’t you say anything? You were branded as a murderer.”

“The Chief and I have had… a long-standing grudge. Yet we all lived because she opened the stadium to us. I can’t deny that. I just couldn’t screw her over like that.”

You quietly gasped. Despite the information not being new to you, you hadn’t known the reason she never spoke up was because of that. 

“Lee Eun-yu,” Chan-young said softly.

“Eun-yu, you shouldn’t have done that to yourself,” you scolded her quietly. 

“Don’t get me wrong. That wasn’t the only reason,” she continued, leaning back in her seat. “I didn’t know it was Hyun-su, but… either way, I didn’t want to tell Crow Platoon.”

Oh. So Eun-yu didn’t know it was Hyun-su. That definitely made you feel better than the idea of her knowing this entire time and just not telling you. 

When a sudden gasp was heard from the room Yi-kyung was in, all of your heads snapped up and Chan-young and Eun-yu rushed into the room. You stood up, hopping over to lean against the entrance when you slipped. 

Just as your hand missed grabbing the frame of the door, you felt an arm wrap around your waist and pull you back up. Turning your head to look at your savior, you were surprised to see Hyun-su with his arm supporting you and Ah-yi standing beside him, looking at you with just as surprised eyes as you were at her. The boy moved you so you were propped up against the door frame before he stepped into the room. 

“Could you step outside for a moment?” He asked the two as they stood beside Yi-kyung’s bed. They hesitated but eventually made their way out of the room. As Hyun-su walked up to the woman, leaning over her as she breathed raggedly, you wrapped your arms around Ah-yi and brought her into a hug. 

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry,” you expressed your condolences before pushing her away just enough so you could see her face. “How are you doing?” You asked her as you caressed her cheek and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. 

She shrugged her shoulders, looking away unconvincingly. “I’m fine. She hated me anyway. I only came for Oppa.”

You tsked and brought her back into your embrace. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

She didn’t respond and Hyun-su turned back to look at the two of you, motioning for Ah-yi to walk in. As she passed by you, you smoothed down the back of her hair and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. 

Hyun-su walked past her, letting her have her final moment alone with her mother on her deathbed. Instead, he walked over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist to help you walk as you all moved further down the hall to give the girl some space. Once he decided it was far away enough, he moved you over to the wall so you could lean against it and stood beside you. You leaned your head against his shoulder, wanting to give and gain comfort from the action. You all stayed there, silently, for a few minutes until Ah-yi walked down the hall. 

Hyun-su popped off the wall and she turned to face the two of you, mainly Hyun-su as he started to speak. “Why are you out here already?”

You leaned forward, grabbing onto his arm to support you as you looked at her. “You should stay with her a while longer,” you insisted softly. Her eyes fluttered down to where the medical tape peeked out above your shoe and the pant leg was taped in place around your calf before she fluttered her eyes back up to yours. 

“Mom’s not going to die. So stop crying, please.”

The way she said it gave you a bad feeling and the clattering that came from the direction of the room didn’t help to ease it. Hyun-su turned, making sure you were balanced before rushing over to the room. You glanced at Ah-yi before heading that direction as well, having Eun-yu and Chan-young help you.

“Yi-kyung!” You heard Hyun-su exclaim just as you all got to the doorway. When you looked into the room, you saw Hyun-su on the ground with Yi-kyung held in his arms while tears fell down his cheeks. 

You covered your mouth in horror as your own tears started to form. You stayed there, supported only by the door as you all cried over the loss of your friend. 

Your eyes shot open when you heard the sound of bones cracking. Her head was thrown backward and her back arched to the point where you were sure that was the bone-breaking sound you heard. The skin on the left side of her body started to turn black, almost as if ash had been painted across it. She started thrashing around, her body contorting inhumanely and her skin releasing a dark, unnatural smoke. As she rolled onto her stomach the bones in her back crunched loudly and she shot up. 

You barely had enough time to move out of the way before she ran into the door you were leaning on. Disoriented and dizzy, you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on what was happening around you until you heard the ringing of a gunshot and Yi-kyung’s half-monsterized body fell backward at the waist. 

“No, don’t do that!” Hyun-su screamed, rushing forward and moving Chan-young’s hands away while he held fast to the gun. 

“It’s too late for her. She’s already gone!” Chan-young yelled at him. 

You looked back at the woman to see the gunshot wound already gone, now covered with the same black markings that covered one half of her body. “H-Hyun-su,” you whimpered weakly and both men turned to look back at Yi-kyung. You let out a soft sob as you saw the tear slide down her face. 

“Yi-kyung,” Hyun-su whispered and she raised a hand toward him. Reaching for him, she started to walk forward before her other arm, the remaining human arm, reached out to grab her own hand, almost as if to pull her back. “You guys should go back,” he whispered to you all. “Take Lucky with you, she can’t walk on her own.”

“No! Not without you!” You protested but Hyun-su didn’t turn to face you. Eun-yu looked at you hesitantly before turning back to him. 

“What about Yi-kyung?” She let out through a sob. “How could she turn so suddenly? She wasn’t showing any symptoms.”

“Her daughter did this to her,” he explained hurriedly.

“Ah-yi…” you whispered in realization. 

“She turns people to monsters?” Chan-young questioned, still aiming the gun at Yi-kyung. “Monsterization is uncontrollable by humans.”

“She’s not a human,” you said lowly. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Eun-yu screamed at you just as Yi-kyung rushed forward to jump out the window of the room behind you. 

“Leave! Now!” He yelled at them before jumping out the window after her. 

“Hyun-su, no!” You cried out, trying to lift yourself to your feet to no avail. Eun-yu and Chan-young, ran to the broken window, looking out as you continued to struggle. “Eun-yu!” You screamed at her and she turned around to face you with widened eyes. “Please! You have to help him! Don’t let him get hurt, please,” you begged her.

She nodded, determined. Turning to Chan-young, he nodded at her and they set off in the direction of the stairs to the bottom floor. 

You sat against the glass doors of the room Hyun-su was resting in. For the first hour, you were in there with him, holding him while he cried. After he fell asleep, though, you decided to give him some space. You waited outside, leaning your head back against the cool surface of the glass with your uninjured leg bent and held to your chest while the other was extended outward. 

Down the hall, you could see Eun-yu watching you until Chan-young approached her. You looked away as you saw them staring at you. Both had sympathy lacing their gazes that you couldn’t stand to see. Sympathy meant you had something they felt sympathetic towards. You didn’t want to think of what that thing was. All you wanted was to be back at your shed, doing laundry with Hyun-su while Ah-yi sat down on the edge of the river bank with her feet dipping into the water. 

But those days were over, at least for the time being.

“What are you gonna do now?” Park Chan-young asked Eun-yu, her gaze still locked onto your form curled up across the hallway. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I found her, and she’s alright. That’s good enough for me. I know she’s in good hands with Cha Hyun-su. I don’t want her to come back to the stadium with us. Not when she was so miserable there,” she told him, thinking for a moment before giving a conclusive answer. “I’m gonna wait for Hyun-su to wake up. I’ll wait with her until then. Then I’ll say my goodbyes and return to the stadium. You?”

“I should get back there,” he decided. “I’ve been gone for too long.”

She nodded in agreement. “Yeah.”

Chan-young gave a final look back at where you sat now with both your knees bent and your face buried in your arms. “Send them my regards, both of them,” he told her and she nodded up at him. “I’ll see you at camp.”

With a moment of hesitation, he turned in the direction of the stairs and started walking toward them. 

It had been a couple of hours since Hyun-su fell asleep. Eun-yu had dozed off about an hour ago but you couldn’t bring yourself to shut your eyes for too long. So you sat there, your eyes staring off into the distance, unfocused and blurred. It wasn’t until the sun started to set, the light shining through the blinds of the windows and casting a golden orange glow onto the tile floor that you snapped out of your daze. Carefully bringing yourself to a standing position, you turned around, opened the door, and walked through. Your eyes immediately went to where Hyun-su was previously lying down, but when you didn’t find him there, you panicked. Raising your eyes, you let out a breath of relief when you saw him sitting on the bed next to the windows, leaning back on his right arm and swaying slightly. 

“Hyun-su?” You asked softly but received no response. Walking closer, you saw his eyes were closed as he continued to sway. It seemed like he was barely conscious and his body kept falling right before he caught it, over and over again. Reaching the point that you were standing right in front of him, you reached up to place your hand on his right cheek, a feeling he immediately leaned into. “Oh, lovely,” you whispered. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

About to pull your hand away from his cheek to clear the pillows and blankets piled on the bed behind him, you stopped when his left hand shot up and grabbed onto your wrist, keeping you in place. Confused and concerned, you brought your other hand up to hold his other cheek. “Hyun-su?” You asked. “Are you okay?”

He slowly opened his eyes and you gasped once you saw them. 

You’d only seen him like this once before and it was after he protected you from a particularly strong monster. Halfway through the battle, all of his mannerisms changed and he moved completely differently. It wasn’t until the monster ran away, Hyun-su covered in its blood yet not a scratch on him, that you saw his eyes. 

You weren’t scared. You could never be scared. 

Not of him. 

Never of him. 

But it did surprise you. 

After he returned to his normal self, he told you about how he tried to never go into that state of being because he wasn’t in full control. Despite the honest way you told him he would never hurt you and that you trusted him, he still kept the monster side of him tucked away as much as possible. 

It seemed that wasn’t the case right now, though. 

“Why are you here?” You whispered to him, your voice not at all accusing or scared, not even a little bit tentative. 

“You don’t want me here?” He questioned. It was so strange to see Hyun-su’s body and hear Hyun-su’s voice but know it wasn’t him, at least not completely. 

“I didn’t say that,” you told him, your eyes lightly scolding him in a way that made his lips quirk. “I just asked why you were here. Is he…” you hesitated, still unsure of how to fully phrase questions when he was in this state. “Are you okay?”

“He’s hurt. Let him rest for a bit,” he explained as he leaned more into your palm. His grip on your wrist hadn’t been all too tight to begin with but it still softened to a loose hold as he kept eye contact with you. 

You nodded at his words, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone and your lips curving into a subtle smile when his eyes closed contently. “Is that why you’re here?” You whispered, not wanting to break the calm atmosphere. His eyes opened again and he stared at you. “To help him with the pain?” He nodded and you sighed. It wasn’t the physical pain on his body either of you meant, and you both knew that. The pain of losing Yi-kyung, and then losing her again at his own hands was too much for him. It most certainly would have been too much for you, so you couldn’t blame him. Not that you would have anyway.

He tightened the grip he had on your wrist and gently brought it away from his cheek before releasing it completely. He turned his head to look forward in the mirror in front of him and used the hand once holding your wrist to move the collar of his shredded jacket away from his shoulder. You winced as you saw the wounded skin there, bringing a hand up to do something but hesitating. Instead, you looked around the room before your eyes lit up as you found what you were looking for. You released his face from the hand still holding his cheek and turned around, taking a step forward with your good foot. He leaned forward, leaning off his right hand and using it to grab ahold of your wrist. You looked back at him. 

“Stay,” he said simply and you smiled.

“I’m not going far.”

He held onto your wrist for a while longer before softly sliding it down to the tips of your fingers and slowly releasing you, all the while keeping eye contact. You felt the heat rising to your cheeks and turned before he could tell how flustered you were at the simple action. Taking another step, you tried to hide the limp in your walk and mask the pain on your face as you grabbed the materials and returned to where he was seated. Setting the medical supplies down next to him, you reached for the pillow behind him and took off the pillowcase surrounding it. Grabbing the mostly empty bottle of rubbing alcohol, you poured some onto the pillowcase before using one hand to pull the collar away to reveal the dirty wound underneath. 

You raised your gaze to his eyes only to find them already looking back at you. “This’ll probably sting,” you told him sorrowfully. You waited a moment for him to acknowledge your words but he just continued to stare at you with a blank, yet almost soft, look. You used your other hand to hold the alcohol-soaked pillowcase and bring it up to his wound where you carefully started dabbing away the blood and dirt. Looking over at him every few seconds to see if he was in pain, you found none each time whilst he didn’t take his eyes off you. Once the blood was cleared away and the pillowcase was thoroughly stained, it was clear to see the wound was much smaller and less serious than it originally seemed. A fact that made you sigh in relief.  

Before you could reach for the bandages to cover his wound with, Hyun-su grabbed your waist and pulled you to stand in between his legs. 

“Wha-?” You started to question but stopped when his arms wrapped around your waist in a hug. His head turned to the side and he rested it against your stomach. It didn’t take long for you to return the hug, albeit a little confused and startled. 

“You know I love you, right?”

The sentence sounded slightly muffled, and you weren’t sure which version of Hyun-su was speaking, but regardless, you answered, “I know.”

His arms tightened around you, a comforting and promising squeeze. “And you know I’m never letting you go again,” he paused, turning to look up at you. It was both a surprise and yet not when you saw one of his eyes was still the bright blue he had in his monster form, but the other had returned to his natural brown. “Right?”

You placed your hands on his cheeks, leaning down to leave a tender kiss on his forehead. 

“I know.”

[hgfictionwriter]

Self Control: Part Ten - Setback

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie suffers an injury during a game and has to navigate balancing her recovery and caring for you. She feels helpless as she tries to step up for you, but can't the way she wants to.

Warnings: Language. Slight angst.

A/N: Inspired by poor Jessie's injury during the Olympics. And everyone please knock on wood I'm not putting some bad mojo out there with this. Oh, and in this world Janine is still a Thorn 🙏 Rest of the series is here.

"-and Fleming is down. Oh, that looked like a hard hit. She's moving, but she's not getting up."

Football was a physical sport. She'd seen far too many friends ushered off the pitch to never fully, or sometimes even ever, return. She'd been extraordinarily lucky that she'd been more or less injury-free her career. However, sometimes she did take a few knocks.

Normally, she was most worried about the team anytime she was injured; that she was letting them down. But as you held her hand while she sat on the examination table in the medical assessment room, your eyes filled with concern and worry - at least for the short amounts of time she could manage to look at you; even with dimmed lights it was too damn bright - she felt most guilty about you.

"I'm confident we're looking at a Grade 2 concussion here," the team doctor said. "I'm not worried that we're into severe or Grade 3 territory. Y/N, I'm going to ask that you help monitor Jessie's symptoms and recovery over the next couple of weeks. If repeat vomiting occurs, extensive dizziness, or she's having prolonged confusion or headaches aren't improving, please contact me immediately."

Jessie had her eyes screwed shut. She tried to focus on her breathing and keeping herself steady as she attempted to will away the incessant pounding in her head. She opened them as the doctor finished speaking to see you nodding eagerly. Your eyes were trained on the woman before glancing back at Jessie and lifting her hand to give it a quick kiss.

"For the next couple of days - lots of rest. That means physical and mental. Very limited reading and screen time. And you're going to be really sensitive to lights and sounds, so a dark and quiet environment is best.

"Days three and four, you can start some light physical or mental activities again. Short, non-strenuous walks, for example. But listen to your body. Days five to seven, you can increase things a bit more, but-"

"We're moving in less than two weeks," Jessie interjected, wincing as she opened her eyes once more to look at the doctor. The doctor, who she knew well, gave her a look of warning, knowing where this was going.

"You should not be packing or moving furniture in two weeks," the doctor said firmly. "You can take on some light packing maybe 7-10 days from now, but carrying heavy boxes is out of the question."

Jessie shook her head and regretted it immediately, wincing sharply this time, a hand flying up to her temple as she grimaced in pain. Your hand came to her shoulder and she sat very still as she rode out a wave of pain.

"We'll hire packers," you told her sternly. "We already have movers anyway."

"No," Jessie returned stubbornly, still unable to open her eyes.

"Well, she's still coherent enough to argue with me, so I guess that's a good sign, right?" You relayed flatly to the doctor who chuckled.

"It is, actually," she said. "Y/N, you know my number. Feel free to contact me directly if you have any questions. Jessie," Jessie felt the doctor's hand on her shoulder and she slowly blinked her eyes open to face her, "behave yourself. I know you like to be busy and I know you want to take care of your fiancée, but you'll be able to get back to that much sooner if you listen to your body and to me."

"Mm," Jessie voiced noncommittally.

The doctor chuckled and spoke to you again.

"Okay, you can take her home now. And with all of this urgency I didn't even have a chance to ask how you're doing. How much longer?"

"About two months left," you answered.

"Oh my gosh. Final stretch, hey? How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," you said. Jessie peeked an eye open to see your hand subconsciously rubbing your enlarged stomach while you continued to hold her hand in your other. "She's so active." You shot Jessie a sidelong, mildly teasing glance. "And at night in particular. I blame myself for that one - I'm the night owl of the two of us, so she must be getting that from me. But yeah, some of the third trimester symptoms are certainly popping up, but truly, I can't complain too much. Or shouldn't yet anyway," you finished with a smirk.

"Well, it'll be nice to get settled in your new place before the baby comes. I'm positive you'll sort out the logistics just fine," the doctor added pointedly and Jessie knew it was for her.

"That's the plan," you said. "It shouldn't be bad. We don't have too much stuff. Most of the furniture will be new and we're just getting all of it delivered after our move-in date."

"That's great. Well, Jessie, I will be seeing you in a week for a follow-up, but Y/N, if I don't see you anytime soon, I have my fingers crossed that the rest of your pregnancy goes smoothly. Can't wait to see pictures of your little one once she's born."

The walk out to the car was slow and tedious. Jessie tried to walk casually and easily, dismissing your supportive arm and wanting to walk on her own, but ended up bracing herself against a random car only ten feet in as she became disoriented. Your arms were around her in a second.

"Baby, come on. Don't be so stubborn. Put your arm around me," you told her both tenderly and firmly. Despite the medication the doctor gave her, her head was still pounding and she had to relent.

She was filled with self-contempt as you eased her into the passenger seat and gently closed the door, wary of both the jostling and sound.

"My baby," you cooed after you climbed in and were settled. You rubbed her thigh and placed the cold compress the doctor had given you into her hand. "Here, hold this against you. It'll help."

"I hate this," Jessie said, voice shuddering against her will.

"I know, love," you said gently. "Let's be grateful it's nothing more severe. I know that doesn't help you in this moment though. Let's get you home, alright?"

She opened her eyes to look at you. Your bump was nearly pressed against the wheel at this stage in your pregnancy.

Jessie sniffled and rubbed her face in aggravation. You shouldn't be taking care of her. You shouldn't be worrying about her. It should be the other way around.

Though you drove as steadily as you could the whole way home, even the slightest jostling or bumps sent pain through her. She gripped the seat tightly and breathed heavily as she fought off a persistent wave of nausea.

She leaned heavily on you despite herself as you both walked up to the apartment. You'd found a hat of hers in the trunk and put it on her to block out some of the lights she'd encounter on the journey up. She apologized repeatedly throughout the walk and you tutted in disapproval and shushed her.

You put her to bed and Jessie began sniffling again as emotions began to bubble up once more as she watched you going all around the apartment to get her set up and cared for.

At one point you were in digging through one of the bottom drawers in the bathroom for something. You held onto the counter with one hand to balance yourself and you huffed in exertion, your stomach very much in the way.

Jessie sat up, wanting to come over to help you. She grimaced as her head began to pound anew and her vision narrowed to a point. She swayed in bed for a second before she felt safe enough to move again. She'd only flung the covers off of herself and lowered her feet to the floor when you voice boomed from the other room.

"Jessie," your voice sharp and making her flinch. "Get back into bed," you said insistently, but much softer this time as you walked back over and gently pushed her back down. She whined and sniffled as you did so. You began to laugh and her eyes grew wide as she looked to you in disbelief.

"Why are you laughing?" Jessie asked, her voice so much weaker than she intended.

"You're being silly," you said through a residual laugh. "You're so stubborn. You were levelled onto the pitch, nearly unconscious, less than two hours ago. Please, just relax tonight. Can you do me that favour?"

"I should be helping you," she went on, her voice up an octave as she fought through emotion.

"You can help me by resting," you told her patiently. "Oh, I have to text your parents back. They're worried about you."

She really wasn't in the right state of mind, because suddenly she felt her face screw up and she began sobbing, made worse by the physical pain the action triggered inside of her.

"Jess," your tone gentle and inquiring, but clearly in shock at the sudden outburst. You sat down next to her immediately and began caressing her head. "What's going on?"

Jessie winced in pain as her shoulders shook while she cried.

"Oh my gosh," you said, underlying concern in your voice as you began to rub her back and you took her hand. "Is it your head? What can I do, baby?"

"I'm letting you down," Jessie forced out, breath hitching at the end of her sentence. "I should be taking care of you."

"Oh my God. Babe, stop that," you said gently, but urgently. "You're not letting me down at all. You take care of me all the time. You're injured. It's okay."

"I'm not a good partner," she sobbed. She heard the sound of surprise from you, but she couldn't stop herself. "I'm not around enough. And that's bad enough. And now we're having a baby? I'm never going to be around. I'm going to be an absent parent. And even if I'm here, I might be injured and you'll have to take care of us both."

"Jess. Oh my God," you said in bewilderment as you rubbed her back further. "Baby, please. None of those things are true. Take a breath."

You placed a hand on her chest, pressing firmly and somehow it immediately caused her to slow her breathing. She brought her hand to yours and clutched it tightly.

"Breathe," you said patiently. "It's going to be okay."

Within those few moments, Jessie's breathing began to normalize and she felt her pulse slow once more. She exhaled and the tightness she'd held in her brow relaxed with it.

"It's okay, baby. Just breathe," you coaxed softly as you continued to rub her back and hold your hand and hers to her chest.

Her eyes remained closed as she let you calm her. Her shoulders hitched periodically with a residual cry, but eventually, she sniffled and opened her eyes to look up at you. The room was dark, but she could still make out your features.

"I don't want to let you down," she whispered, voice still trembling as her throat tightened once more, emotions threatening to spill over once more.

"You never let me down," you told her resolutely. "Ever. And I mean that." You let those words sink in before carrying on. "You are the absolute best partner I could ever hope for."

Jessie watched quietly as you smiled, but it faltered. Looking closer she saw tears starting to form in your eyes.

"I'm serious. You know my family. My parents marriage was absolute shit. I didn't know - for a long time - that relationships could be good. That they should be. The way you love me, the way you care for me, is something I didn't even want to hope for because it seemed so impossible. And then even if it was possible, there was no way I'd find someone like that for me. That I would deserve to be loved like that."

"Babe-" Jessie went to interject, but you stopped her.

"When I tell you you're incredible, I really mean it. You're far more than I could've ever hoped or dreamed for. You show me more love and affection in a day than I felt for years at a time. I swear. So please don't ever worry about letting me down."

Jessie was sniffling now, blinking tears onto her pillow and she lifted your hand to kiss it, holding it there against her lips and clutching you tightly. She hated that you felt that way for so many years. And though she was happy that she could make you feel loved like that, it broke her heart, too. She just couldn't fathom someone not loving you wholly and completely.

You leaned down and kissed her forehead, removing your hand from her back to caress the side of her face. You chuckled lightly, speaking against her forehead.

"Short of cheating on me or having some secret family on the side, you could never let me down."

"Babe," Jessie complained, shifting her head to try to look at you. "I would never do that."

"Just saying," you said lightly as you sat back up. "That's the line. For clarity purposes - even if you fell out of love with me and chose to end things, you still wouldn't be letting me down. I'd be devastated, of course, but I would respect that and still love you."

"Babe," Jessie started whimpering again and you consoled her.

"Okay, okay," you placated. "Last thing. Yes, you travel. Yes, you'll be away sometimes. And yes, it is possible that you could get injured again. But that's okay. Of course, I don't want you to get injured, but because I love you. You need to understand that we're partners. We take care of each other.

"And lots of parents travel for work. I know you sometimes forget, but I'm pretty independent and I'm capable," you smirked. "Plus, we have lots of support in case I or our daughter need anything while you're away. What stands out most to me is our daughter will grow up seeing her mom pursue what she loves, working hard to be the best as what she does, and inspiring a new generation of players. That means so much and I wouldn't change it."

You laid another kiss on her forehead. "Get some rest, baby. I love you so much. I'm going to take care of a few things, but I'll be back soon and we can lay together, okay?"

She gave a faint noise of acceptance and you rose from the bed, pushing off slowly, now having to lean back and get your balance to counter the weight of the baby. Jessie's hand shot out to brace your back, and though you delivered a stare her way after you were steady, it dissolved into a smirk.

"See? You're still helping me."

------

The week dragged on so horribly slowly for Jessie. She was so frustrated and upset with herself. She would've always wanted to be able to get up and go, do things, but especially now. You’d taken over essentially all of the household chores and errands and she felt exponentially guilty.

One day you came home, shuffling through the door with bags of groceries hanging off your arms. Jessie shot up off the couch to help you, but her vision began to peter out. She paused a few steps in to brace herself against a nearby chair.

"Jessie," you chided.

She could hear you putting down the various bags. And she pre-emptively put up her hands in defense. "I'm fine." When she opened her eyes again, she was met with a disapproving look from you. She dropped your gaze immediately.

"Sit down, please," you instructed.

"I can help you put everything away," she insisted as she tried to push past you, only to have you hold her back.

"Jess," your voice was curt and she knew you meant business. She could feel your gaze burning into the back of her head and she forced herself to look at you. You went on softer this time. "I'm sure you could help me with groceries. But I'm fine. Honestly. You can help me most by doing as your doctor said, and taking it easy."

She was contemplating a rebuttal, which you saw it coming from a mile away and you continued.

"Don't make me resort to tactics of emotional warfare," you said sarcastically and Jessie huffed, recalling how you told her the other day that the more you had to wrangle her, the more your daughter kicked and squirmed and tired her out.

Jessie sighed begrudgingly and collapsed into the couch, an instant pang shooting through her head at the jarring motion. Served her right for being petulant, she thought ruefully. Despite her antics, she felt your hand caress the side of her head.

"It's like a preview into parenting," you joked before kissing her head and returning to the groceries. Jessie opened her eyes and glared at your retreating form.

"Yeah? Are you going to threaten our kid with guilt trips, too?" She'd meant it as a bit of a snide joke, but immediately regretted her words as soon as she'd said them. Your movements stilled and you slowly turned back to face her, your expression one that made Jessie sink further into her seat.

"Do not start with me, Jessica."

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "That was uncalled for."

"You're still injured. A brain injury at that," you replied as you went back to the bags before giving her a pointed look. "I'll chalk it up to that. You get one freebie."

Jessie was silent as she watched you work. Your movements were laboured at times and she see how much effort it took to do certain tasks. Still, it was true, you managed just fine.

When you were finished, you returned to the living room and sat heavily next to her, a sigh of relief on your lips as you leaned back. You were short of breath, and Jessie looked away quickly when you felt her watchful gaze and peeked open at eye at her. You held out a hand, gesturing for her to relax.

"She's pushing against my diaphragm; it's making it harder to breath, it's not a big deal," you reassured her pre-emptively. You placed your hands on the cushions and pushed yourself up to sit straighter before you met her eyes again. You took her hand.

"I know you want to help. But you have to pace yourself. You can't spring up and sprint over, or you can't be up and down trying to pack and lift things. Not right now. You know better than that," you said gently.

"I already texted Janine and Kelli about packing. They agreed to come over tomorrow," she pouted, spurred on by another failed attempt of hers yesterday. You sighed and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you for doing that. I feel much better about that approach," you told her.

"I'm sorry," Jessie said, fingers fidgeting as she remained slumped on the couch. She sat up and gave you a hopeful look. "I'm feeling better every day, though. I'll be able to help out a lot more around the house soon."

You gave her a patient look and cupped her face in your hands.

"I'm pregnant - not infirm. Did you know...there are thousands of women, for one reason or another, who do this alone? I am very, very lucky that I have you and you’ve been so attentive and wonderful. But there are many women who manage all by themselves. I can do the same - not even, actually, since you’re still here and supportive - for a couple of weeks."

Despite your words of reassurance, Jessie's face fell and she snuggled into you, resting her head on your shoulder. She frowned as she felt your body jostle with a soft chuckle as you wrapped your arms around her. You kissed the crown of her head.

"My sweet baby," you chuckled further against her though she groaned. "Don't worry. A few weeks from now when I'm complaining 24/7 and can barely get out of bed, you'll be relishing these moments."

--------

True to their word, the next day Kelli and Janine were over and were making serious progress on packing up the apartment under Jessie's and your watchful eye.

Despite their help, it was a struggle for Jessie. She was very particular about things like this and she wanted things packed up and organized in specific order and way. With some coaching from you, she'd had to let some of that go, but it wasn't easy.

She and you packed up the lighter things, but anything heavy, and particular full boxes, were left to the girls. And what upset her even more was that she was having trouble focusing. Between all of the lights - clearly, none of you could pack in the dark - and physical exertion, she found herself having to take more breaks than she liked and you'd had to take over quite a bit in directing the girls.

Still, when she was able to, she tried.

"Oh, that needs to go over here," Jessie interrupted as Kelli was setting down a box in the obviously wrong pile. Kelli rolled her eyes good-naturedly and picked up the box once more with a heaving motion, balancing it against her thigh as she adjusted her grip before moving it to the appropriate area.

"Better, princess?" She asked, eliciting a scowl out of Jessie. She knew Kelli was just joking, but it was grating on her. Kelli called her that a few times now, along with a couple of other cracks in that vein.

Her friends, throughout her entire life, had always loved teasing her. Maybe it was the way she blushed when she got flustered or worked up, but people just seemed to love poking at her. Normally, she took it in stride, but it was hard to laugh them off today.

She had all of this mapped out and was fully ready to tackle it alone. Did Kelli think she wanted to ask them for help? No. She hated it.

You were supposed to have your feet up without a worry while she took care of it all. Instead, you were on your feet, packing alongside them and doing more than your fair share of directing and corralling. She saw how you stood there, a hand on your back as you caught your breath, a veiled wince now and then. She could see how sore and tired you were getting.

Her stare followed Kelli as she bounded back over to Janine to gather up some more items. Jessie could feel the heavy tension between her shoulder blades and she felt her face and ears growing hot. She took a steadying breath, she knew this feeling; if she wasn't careful she'd be blinking back tears soon.

She released a slow, deep breath as she returned her attention to the box in front of her and labelled it accordingly. She was setting down the marker when out of the corner of her eye she caught you waving Kelli over. She watched as you spoke in a hushed tone to her and nodded to the other room.

Jessie frowned as she watched you two retreat. Something seemed off, confirmed when you partially closed the door behind you. Jessie quietly padded over and held her ear close to the opening. She whipped her head around, gritting her teeth momentarily at the way the sudden motion aggravated her symptoms, when she felt Janine sneak up, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"What's going on?" Janine mouthed, ever curious. Jessie shrugged the girl's hand off her shoulder tempermentally.

"I don't know," she mouthed back with a mild glare. Janine rolled her eyes and they both leaned in.

"-I appreciate your help. I know you don't have to be doing this. But you need to stop making jokes. She already feels bad enough. She doesn't need you making cracks at her expense. She wouldn't do that to you if situations were reversed. So stop. Please."

Jessie's stomach sank. Now you were defending her as well. She went to push the door open, but Janine pulled her back and away, well out of earshot.

"Let it go," Janine told her.

The emotions Jessie had been working to keep at bay just minutes ago were now raging forward. Her ears were burning and she sniffled.

"Jess," Janine warned her with underlying care in her voice. She knew the last thing Jessie would want right now is to have an emotional meltdown. Janine placed her hands on Jessie's shoulders and spoke calmly, but firmly. "It's fine. Nothing to get worked up about. Y/N loves you a ton. She's being a mama bear to you right now. And fair enough. You're not feeling well, so she's looking out for you. Kelli's a big girl. She'll get it. She'll be fine."

Jessie sniffled and folded her arms against herself.

"It just sucks," she said as she worked to regain her composure.

"I know," Janine said as she patted her on the shoulder. "You'll be all better soon though. Take it easy on yourself." She smirked. "Y/N said you were planning to paint a few rooms in the new place a couple weeks from now. You're on your own for that."

Although she fought it, Jessie had to laugh. She was about to comment when she noticed the door open behind Janine and you and Kelli stepped out. She studied you both and to her surprise nothing seemed odd.

Janine followed her gaze and looked back at her with a wink before going back to help Kelli, who, at least as far as Jessie could see, was in fine spirits.

You must've noticed Jessie's behaviour because you soon approached.

"Everything okay, babe?" You asked.

She looked to you, her gaze eventually falling to your rounded stomach. She placed her hands on your pronounced bump and ran a thumb lovingly along it before lifting her gaze back up to you and all of the boxes around; a physical manifestation of the new chapter you both were starting together. She smiled at you.

"Yeah. Everything's good."

[russellsppttemplates]

https://www.tumblr.com/goldenboygate/748927575652515840?source=share

How about a blurb of happy tipsy/drunk Lando and reader on the boat and he's extra clingy and saying sweet funny things? Bonus points if she's caring for his bloody nose and he's looking at her with the gloomy sparkly eyes (we have all seen the pictures 👀🫣)

Note: the more content I see from this day, the more I think this is going in the books 😅

Cw: mentions a cut, blood, alcohol consumption

"Fill mine, please!", Lando asked one of the guys as he filled his own cup with some orange drink right on theme for the day.

When you said you'd join the celebrations for King's Day, Lando and Martin were the most excited for it and promised you one hell of a party indeed.

"Show me how you dance with your pretty hips! Baby, are my moves as good as yours?", Lando said as he swayed his hips from side to side, his knees helping him bounce slightly as he waved the cup around. The sunglasses didn't cover his blushed cheeks and big smile, but you were sure they were hiding your favourite pair of eyes, now probably squinty and glassy as he sang loudly.

"Yes, Lan, they're good", you shook your head as you laughed, letting him pull you closer to him so he could dance with you.

"My chest is full of love for you, baby", Lando whispered on your ear before he nipped at the skin there.

"We're out, Lando, there's other people here", you gasped even though you were enjoying his touches a little too much. Drunk Lando often meant an even clingier boyfriend.

"I don't care, I'm full of love for you - I love you!", he stated kissing your lips and everywhere on your face he could.

You turned around for a couple of minutes, approaching the edge so you could get a little bit of air and look at how everyone else was celebrating the day until you heard a gasp followed by Martin calling your name.

"What?", you asked before seeing Lando and his bloody nose, "Oh my word", you whispered as you approached him.

"We clicked the glasses and then this happened", Martin explained as you took a good look at the injury.

Even though it seemed like a little nick on the skin from the glass, it was bleeding a good amount, "Here's the first aid kit", someone said as they handed it to you.

"Does it hurt a lot, love?", you asked Lando as you rummaged through the bag to figure out what you had and what you could do with it.

"It's okay", he mumbled.

"Hold this, Lando, I need to find something to disinfect- we're in a boat full of alcohol drinks but medical grade stuff would be better I guess", you mumbled the last part, trying to read the label of the bottle and smelling them.

Once you look up after finding the rubbing alcohol and some cotton buds and pads, you see the gauze wrapped around his head, "like this, right, lovie?", Lando smiled, a genuine tinge of hope in his voice at helping you help him.

"Not quite", you laughed. You felt bad for doing so while he was clearly hurt despite not hearing many complaints from him.

"Let me put some steri strips - stay still, Lan, I need to see this upclose", you stated after cleaning the cut, applying the strips in a cross since you could see the skin was pulling both ways.

"Did you do it like an X? I felt that", Lando spoke, "X marks the spot for the treasure, doesn't it? I'm your treasure!", he cheered, "Taylor Swift says that it marks the spot where we fell apart, but we never fall apart baby, we're forever".

"You are, Lan, my biggest treasure", you smiled, "can you stay still for a bit longer though, please?", you asked gently still.

Lando complied with your request, staying still as you did your best to make sure the dressing was helping or at least not making the situation worse, "Is this your way of telling me you want me to get a rhinoplasty? Funny, it has rhino in it", he giggled before he attempted to make an elephant noise.

"No, baby, I love your nose just the way it is", you smiled, kissing the tip of his nose when you were happy with the improvised wound dressing, "there, all done! You even get a magic kiss for it to heal faster!".

"You're so pretty, you're really my girlfriend? Ah! Would you look at that, Martin? She's my girlfriend - I'm one lucky dude", Lando beamed at his friend before he kissed your lips, letting you sit on the edge of the boat, "you can sit there, baby, it's got railing to protect you from falling in the water - it's looks mucky", he made a disgusted face.

You sat there, glad to be able to experience these moments with your boyfriend and seeing his so carefree and happy. His PR team would maybe have to do some cleaning up, but at the end of the day, he was a happy young man enjoying his time off and he had the right to enjoy it.

"She is my girlfriend - Look, Y/N! Someone is recording us, say hi, my love!", he yelled, getting you to wave at a girl filming on another boat, "isn't she pretty? And she fixed my nose too!".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[july-19th-club]

a while back i read jane eyre for the first time since high school in anticipation of watching the 2006 wilson/stephens miniseries. it's incredible to reread these classic novels as an adult, because while i got all the words and understood the *content* as a teenager, i didn't at all find the book interesting or fun to read. anyway i think one of the reasons that book stood the test of time isn't so much the gothic intrigue and how fucked up rochester and his wife are . he sucks so bad in so many ways . but he keeps needing rescued from stuff and only jane can do it . he fucking breaks an ankle falling off a horse early in her employment with him and she's the one who helps him back to the house . his attic wife sets his bedroom on fire and jane's the one who finds him and puts it out before he dies of smoke inhalation . then attic wife sets the house on fire after jane leaves and the whole place burns to the ground, grievous death and permanent injuries, etc, etc. jane comes back yippee everything's okay again! austen heroes don't get wounded like that because they're far too sedate and busy engaging in social seasons and heathcliff is like not wounded physically so much as destroyed emotionally . but this dude strikes the balance for readers who best enjoy when a man is collapsing of various problems and literally cant survive a day without some governess to pour water on his four-poster so he doesn't fry to a crisp

ALSO . i particularly was interested in the passages just after jane first meets him where she talks a lot about how if he was a normal polite person, or even just like a normal Lord with like, a sense of propriety and good manor house manners, she'd have been shy and awkward and uncomfortable and would have hated him. but i think where some interpretations get it wrong is that she doesn't think his rudeness is HOT. she thinks it's good for her own confidence, in that she knows her own self-esteem and social comfort levels are so low that all the scripts of peerage and society make her crawl into herself and disappear. she doesn't know how to follow the scripts convincingly, she's been emotionally abused her whole life so she has no sense of self-worth, but he doesn't follow the script. which means she doesn't have to worry about following it either. which does wonders for her confidence levels because when she can just act in ways that make sense to her rather than second-guessing whether she will be Approved Of, she can actually be a person. and that's what she first appreciates about him: his ability to (more or less without trying or even noticing) facilitate that for her.

"The incident had occurred and was gone for me: it was an incident of no moment, no romance, no interest in a sense; yet it marked with change one single hour of a monotonous life. My help had been needed and claimed; I had given it: I was pleased to have done something, trivial, transitory though the deed was, it was yet an active thing, and I was weary of an existence all passive."

[atlabeth]

dance until we're bones

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader

summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.

a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 🫶 i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier

wc: 17.2k

warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldn’t say a happy ending but a hopeful one

Hotch can barely stay awake. 

He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadn’t already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point. 

It’s poor planning on his part—he already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he won’t be out until their first night in a hotel. 

He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no one’s surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyone’s there. 

Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffees—JJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAU’s supply—Reid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always. 

Hotch just hopes he’s put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour. 

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. “As lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, I’m afraid that we’ve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.” 

“Great,” Prentiss mutters. “How bad is it?” 

“Three married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,” Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. “Mom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.”

“Awful lot of similarities between the parents,” Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. “Looks like our killer has some family issues.” 

Reid nods. “The unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. I’m guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.”

“Probably has a grudge against his father,” Prentiss remarks. “They make it out the worst every time.”

“There’s no method to the torture,” Morgan says. “It looks like he’s just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.” 

“Our guy probably isn’t trained in anything, then,” Rossi says. 

Reid flips to another page in the file. “Serial killers like to see their victims suffer. If he’s not torturing the mom physically, then he’s likely making her watch.”

“He doesn’t kill children, though,” JJ notes. 

“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor,” Reid says. 

“The unsub sees himself in the kids?” Morgan suggests. “He’s doing what he didn’t get the chance to do.” 

“Whatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,” JJ says. “The press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.”

“Especially with families being killed,” Morgan murmurs. 

JJ sighs. “I’ll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.” 

Hotch nods and he closes his file. “Wheels up in thirty. I hope you’re all ready for a long day.” 

-

The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitable—save for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesn’t do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file. 

The team settles in quickly at the city’s precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene. 

It’s brutal—much too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house. 

They don’t learn much from the officers that they don’t already know. This is the most recent crime scene—George and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, they’re going to deal with a lifetime of guilt. 

It’s all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control. 

All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field.  

Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for what’s left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics. 

They’ll find whoever did this. That’s what gets him through it. 

They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killer’s motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.

Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now it’s a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road.  

Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. It’s difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything. 

First they go to a neighbor’s house, then an alleged eye witness. They don’t get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect. 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. “Thirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.” 

“What has he been charged for?” 

“Booked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouri’s version of aggravated assault,” she says. “He got out of jail a little less than a year ago, and it looks like he’s been living in St. Louis for some of that.”

“Assault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,” Hotch says. “What makes him a suspect?”

“Both parents are dead,” she says. “And from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. He’s got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.”

Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. “We’ll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.”

“And hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,” Prentiss murmurs. 

They’re at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind. 

The house number and last name—1432, Hartford—on the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small driveway—there’s no garage, so at least he’s probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive. 

“Remember,” Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, “be nice.” 

“I’m plenty nice,” he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh. 

Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they don’t wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a woman—certainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising. 

You.

Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock. 

You don’t live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isn’t Hartford. 

“Aaron?” you ask in disbelief, and he doesn’t even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions he’s going to get later.

He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. “Miss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We’re here with the FBI.” 

Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. “What is the FBI doing here?” 

Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. “We’re here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?”

“The murders?” you ask with exasperation. “What— what murders? And what do I have to do with them?” 

Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.

“We’ll be able to explain everything if you let us in,” he says. 

You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. “Take a seat. Uh— do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, or…” 

You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. “Thank you, but that’s not needed.” She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch can’t stop himself from looking around the house. 

It’s a small place, one story—likely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all. 

Two styles clash—decorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one person’s mess barely being held back by another’s cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub. 

“Are you gonna sit down, Aaron?” you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. “Or do you want to look around some more?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. “Just curious.” 

“That makes two of us,” you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you don’t sit down yourself, and there’s still a coldness in your eyes. “You’re FBI now?” 

He nods. “I had a change of heart.” 

You huff a laugh. “Thought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.” 

Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. “Miss Hartford—”

You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. It’s been over a decade since he’s heard your voice. “You can skip the formalities.” 

Prentiss nods and repeats your name. “As you know, we’re investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Louis area.” 

“And you think I have something to do with it?” you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him. 

“Not you,” Hotch says. “Do you know a Lucas Hartford?”

“He’s my brother,” you say, and your frown deepens. “You’re not saying—”

“No,” Prentiss interrupts, “we’re not saying anything. We’re just asking.”

And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things: 

Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and you’re not anywhere near the same person you used to be. 

Hotch doesn’t know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decade—now, he’s with the BAU. It’s not fair to assume you’re that same girl he met in law school. 

“My brother is not a murderer,” you state clearly.

“And we aren’t accusing him or you of anything—” she starts. 

“Me?” you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. “I’m a suspect too?”

“If you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,” Hotch says. 

You glower at him, but you stay silent. 

“We aren’t accusing either of you of anything,” Prentiss finishes. “We’re just trying to gather information with what little we know.” 

“I know my rights,” you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotch’s. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “That’s unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.”

“You know my name, Aaron. Use it.”

He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. “This is a serious matter. This isn’t an accusation—we’re in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.” 

“Ask away,” you say. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss starts. “He’s your brother?” 

You nod. “He lives with me.” 

He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didn’t have the heart to turn him away. 

“Why is that?” Hotch asks. 

You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and he’s much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too. 

“He’s a student,” you finally say. “He goes to community college. I’m giving him a place to live while he gets his associate’s.”  

“Community college and living with his younger sister at 39?” Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isn’t in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. You’ve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going. 

“He’s getting his life back on track,” you say defensively. “I’m the only one left that can help him, so I am.” 

“What about your parents?” she asks. “Surely they’re a better option than this.” 

“Both dead,” you answer. “And no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?” 

Hotch feels Prentiss’s eyes on him, likely because it’s a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he can’t look away from you. 

“Really?” 

He knows your parents are dead—it was in your brother’s profile, and by extension it applies to you—but it still hits him. 

He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her. 

And he didn’t even know when she died. 

You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You look— well… sad. 

“Mom went a few years after you graduated,” you say, looking at Hotch. “Dad went last year.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Prentiss says. 

You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb. 

“You never told me,” Hotch says with a slight frown.

“We haven’t talked in ten years,” you say. “Sorry that I didn’t know you still wanted updates.” 

Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. “Excuse me.” 

His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but he’s recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even. 

“I take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.” 

Hotch nods. “We came here looking for your brother.” 

“Does your team know about our history?” you ask simply.

“No.” 

“Do you want them to?” 

“…No.” 

You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. “‘Course not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.” 

You wait another beat, then ask another question. “How’s Haley?”

“Good, last I heard,” he says, and then he hesitates. “We’re… divorced.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

He nods. “This job isn’t easy for anyone.”

You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. “Morgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything we’ve found.” 

Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you. 

“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.” 

“Pass that along to your brother, too,” Hotch says. 

You reluctantly take the card, but you don’t look at it. “You can see yourselves out.” 

Prentiss nods. “Thank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.” 

She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door. 

Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again. 

“Garcia?” Prentiss asks after she picks up. 

“You’ve reached the office of all that is holy.” Penelope’s voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch can’t help the smallest twitch of his lips. “What’s up?” 

“Dig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,” Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. “And throw in his sister, too. He’s one of our only suspects, and we need to know if she’s in on it.” 

“On it,” Garcia says. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.” 

“You’re the best,” she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.

“Alright,” she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. “What was that back there? You two know each other?”

Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. “We were friends in law school.”

“Sure,” Prentiss nods. “The way you were around her, that’s not just ‘law school friend’ stuff.”

Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret. 

“It’s nothing,” he says as he pulls back onto the road. “We knew each other, we fell apart, we’re here now.”

Emily hums. “Is it too far to ask if you were together?”

“Yes,” he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. “It is.”

“Fine,” she says breezily, and she looks out the window. “But that tension was thick.” 

Hotch knows what she’s thinking. Hasn’t he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this case— 

He doesn’t really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadn’t expected to resurface any time soon—if Hotch is being honest, he didn’t know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off.  

You’ve changed a lot. So has he. 

And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him. 

That’s the only thing that should be on his mind. 

-

“For the last time,” you huff as you storm down the stairs, “I don’t want to deal with this.” 

“Because you know that Mia is a lying bitch!” Cleo exclaims, following after you. “I’m sick of you stealing my clothes!”

“I’m not stealing your clothes,” Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. “They’re too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldn’t even fit into them.”

“You are! And you’re stealing my fucking jewelry, too!” she yells. “All of my shit is going missing, and I know it’s not Little Miss Law School, so it’s got to be you!” 

Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. “You are not accusing me of this.” 

“I don’t have anyone else to accuse!” Cleo shouts. 

They both look at you, and Mia says your name. “You have to settle this before I kill her.”

“Oh, I’ll kill you first!” she hisses. “At least I’ll get all my stuff back!”

You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and you’re about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You don’t even try to hide your sigh of relief. 

“That’s Aaron,” you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. “I’m leaving. If you kill each other, don’t get blood on the furniture.”

You don’t give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you breathe. 

“What’s going on in there?” Aaron asks, amused. 

“My roommates are fighting again.” You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re much more interesting.”

“You know this is a study date,” he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss. 

“Still a date,” you murmur against his lips. “And something seriously needed.”

Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. “You’ve gotta get out of this house, honey.”

“I know,” you grumble. “But I can’t afford a place on my own.”

“Doesn’t have to be on your own,” he says as he opens the door for you. “It just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.”

“The lease ends at the end of the semester,” you sigh. “Just have to make it until then.”

“You know,” Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, “I do live alone.”

“Oh yeah?” You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. “What are you proposing?”

He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. “Just that you hate your roommates, and you don’t hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.” 

“Careful,” you warn. “You keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.” 

“You keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,” Aaron muses. 

You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you don’t really care at this point. They’ve made your life hell for a semester and a half—they can bother each other for once. 

“Aaron,” you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, “I’ve got a test on Tuesday.”

“And today’s Sunday.” He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. “You’ll be fine, honey.”

“You have one on Monday,” you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck. 

“Ruining our fun in the name of schoolwork,” he says. “No wonder all your professors love you.”

“Everyone loves me,” you correct. “Including you.”

You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve got that right.”

He closes your door then gets in the other side, and you’re already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on. 

“You’re a threat to my grades, y’know.”

“Maybe it’s all part of my plan,” you say. “Distract you with kisses to make sure I’m a shoe-in for this fellowship.”

“A dastardly plan,” he says with mock austerity. 

“I’ve been told I have to be more of a shark,” you muse. “Consider this me taking down my competition.”

Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs. 

Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world. 

“Don’t let anyone know,” he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. “But I’ll happily fall to you every time.”

“As long as you don’t tell everyone how whipped I am for you,” you tease.

“Looks like we’ve both got reputations to keep up.”

“Looks like it.”

You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each other’s presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air. 

(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)

- 

You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger. 

Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friends’ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it. 

You didn’t listen. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom.  

They were just… so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing. 

All you’ve ever wanted to do is help people. 

And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you can’t help but wonder where the hell you went wrong. 

You don’t want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI won’t stop bugging you until you give them answers—you know Aaron Hotchner won’t stop bugging you. 

Because god— what are the odds? 

What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother? 

It’s ridiculous, and it’s such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. You’ve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than you’d like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what should’ve been your golden years. 

It’s not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you don’t want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaron’s eyes—he was profiling you and your place the entire time. 

If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course it’s Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if it’s on you or your brother. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.”

“Well, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.” You cross your arms as you sit back. “I’m not really gonna let that stand.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a lawyer,” he says as he sits down across from you. 

“I don’t plan to be here for very long,” you respond tartly. “But don’t worry—that can always change. I know my rights.” 

“I’m the last person you need to tell that to.” Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though he’s obviously older—more grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching line—you still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties. 

You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. 

“Your last name wasn’t Hartford when I met you,” he says. “Why is it now?” 

“Not one for small talk,” you remark. 

“I never have been.” 

“I remember.” You hold his gaze. “It’s my mom’s maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.” 

You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaron’s always been like that, but it’s tenfold now. 

You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face. 

“How long have you been living in St. Louis?”

“Seven years. I’ve had that house for three.” 

“Rent or own?”

“Rent,” you scoff. “I don’t make enough for a down payment, and I don’t want a place tying me down.”

“What inspired the move?”

“Close enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.” 

“And home is?” 

“St. Charles,” you say, and you purse your lips. “Shouldn’t you already know all this?” You nod at the file in front of him. “It’s either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.” 

“We prefer to get our information from the source,” he says. 

“Sources can lie.” 

Aaron doesn’t waver. “And we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. “Ask your questions, Aaron.” 

He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to you—your brother’s first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up. 

You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything you’d been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had. 

You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened. 

“Lucas Hartford is our main suspect,” he says. “He matches our initial profile—in and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and he’s got a sister.”   

“None of those sound like questions,” you say. 

“Where is your brother?” he asks firmly. He’s given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell he’s getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly. 

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

“You don’t know,” he repeats. 

“I let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,” you say. “He’s done both, so I stay out of his business.”

“And you’re telling me you haven’t questioned it?”

“I called him the other day after you left,” you say. “He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t get a call back until the next night.” 

Aaron’s eyes sharpen. “What did you say to him?” 

“I called to see where he was,” you say evenly. “I think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.” 

“You didn’t tell him—” 

“No,” you interrupt, “I didn’t tell him about your investigation. If I think you’re wrong, why would I need to let him know?” 

He still has that look in his eyes, and you know you’re getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse. 

“Good,” he nods. “You could be putting lives in danger if you do—including yours.” 

“Please,” you scoff. “He won’t hurt me. He never has.” 

“Why do you let him stay with you?” Aaron asks. “You’re straight-edge, he’s a borderline alcoholic that’s been in and out of jail for years. You’ve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. You’ve got your life together, his is falling apart.” 

“That’s why I do it,” you say. “Our parents are dead. I’m all he has left, and he’s all I have left. I want him to get better, so I’m trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if he’s got no support?” 

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasn’t earned it.” 

“I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” you reply. 

Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly. 

“And you’re wrong, by the way.” 

“About what?” he asks. Again, unshaken. 

“I don’t have a law degree,” you say. “I dropped out.” 

And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing he’s gotten out of you. 

“Why? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.” 

“My mom got cancer,” you say. “Luke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldn’t do that from DC.” 

“I had no idea.” This is the first time he looks taken aback since you’ve met him again. “And she’s—”

“Dead,” you supply without waiting for an answer. You know he already knows it, but it still seems to have some effect on him. “Went a couple months after I was meant to graduate.” 

“…I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. He’s just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least. 

“It’s been a decade,” you say. “I’m just sorry it was her instead of my dad.” 

Aaron’s brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. “You seem to have something against your father.” 

You huff a mirthless laugh. “Excellent profiling.” 

“Child abuse is common for serial killers,” Aaron says. “We find it’s typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.” 

You stare at him again. This isn’t just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—it’s revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron. 

“Yeah,” you finally say. “Our dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

“You know th—” 

Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. “It’s valuable information for the profile.” 

The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. “Sure.” 

He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file. 

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Would you like anything? Water?”

You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking. 

“Look, Aaron,” you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. “I know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but I’m telling you—my brother and I don’t play any part in it.” 

“The profile—” 

“I don’t care what your profile says,” you interrupt. “He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it.” 

“He’s rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isn’t good for anyone.” You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. “But he’s working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.” 

“I suppose we’ll find out,” he says evenly. 

He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You don’t mean to be desperate, but you feel it. You’ve been defending Lucas at every chance, but you’re terrified of being wrong. You’re terrified that Aaron might be right—that he might be behind all of this. 

For his sake—and your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when he’s all you have left—you hope you’re right. 

You have to be right. 

The room feels even colder. 

Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your house—he said he doesn’t want them to know, but you think they already do. 

You wonder the kind of things they’ve come up with about you and him. 

-

Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room. 

“She does not like you.” 

“Did you gather anything else?” he asks placidly. He sets your brother’s file down so he can fix his tie. 

“Abusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,” he says. “Lucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Oh— and she really doesn’t like you.” 

“If you don’t want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,” Hotch demands. 

Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You haven’t exactly relaxed, but you’re not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor. 

“Her brother feels like a prime suspect,” Reid murmurs. “I feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.” 

“I told Penelope to keep an eye on him,” Prentiss contributes. “She’s tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye out—everything. We’ll know if she gets anything.”

“Serial killers want to see the damage they’ve done,” Reid says. “Things are falling apart here—the whole city is terrified. He’s gotta be in St. Louis still.” 

“You’re sure that he’s still in the running.” Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesn’t want to put you through anything more than he has to—not after what you’ve told him. 

And Hotch knows your past is your business—he just can’t believe you never told him. 

He’s turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things. 

“I’m sure, sir,” Reid says. “I’ve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.”

Morgan frowns. “Explain.”

“Family annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,” he says. “Paranoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.”

“He’s killing the parents but leaving the children alive,” Hotch says. “Sounds like a liberator to me.”

“That’s what I think,” Reid nods. “If Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?” He shrugs. “That could be why he started going for other families.” 

“Other fathers to take his place,” Morgan realizes, and he nods again. 

“You should talk to her, Spence,” Prentiss says. “You’ve got a handle on the profile, and you’re pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable person—just can’t accept her brother doing something like this.” 

“It’s typical for someone to deny their family member’s involvement,” Reid says. “No one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.” 

“If you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think she’ll listen.” Prentiss looks at Hotch. “She’s too closed off with you.”

“That’s how she is,” Hotch claims.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, “but it’s much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.” 

Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation. 

“I’d be happy to talk to her,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be in this kind of position—I can put her at ease, sympathize with her.” 

They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of you—some part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego. 

“Fine.” He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. “I trust you to handle it.” 

Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. “Thank you. Uh— sir. I appreciate your trust.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside. 

He says your name and sits down across from you. “I’m Spencer Reid. I know we’ve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.”

You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes Hotch… 

Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesn’t understand you the way he used to—that he doesn’t hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesn’t know you anymore. 

Hotch doesn’t get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you. 

“They sent a new one in,” you say. 

“You looked like you needed a break from Hotch,” Reid says. “Don’t worry. We all do sometimes.”

You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual. 

“I can imagine.”

He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you don’t look happy, you don’t cut him off like you cut Hotch off. 

“She’s pretty,” Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. “And stubborn. I see why you like her.” 

“Shut up, Morgan,” Hotch mutters.

He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation. 

The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you don’t stare daggers at him the entire time. 

Time doesn’t always heal all wounds, he thinks. 

When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. “You think she’s part of this?”

He shakes his head. “No. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainly—it hurt her, obviously, but it hasn’t taken over her life.”

“What about her brother?” Prentiss asks. 

“The more we learn, the more I suspect him,” Morgan says. 

She nods in agreement. “We just have to find him.”

Hotch isn’t sure yet. 

But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong. 

-

Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldn’t be happier. 

It’s hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once. 

You’re two years into law school, and it feels like you’ve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but it’s made better with Aaron. 

You’re laying down on a blanket—one you crocheted yourself in undergrad—resting your head on Aaron’s chest as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard. 

You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you don’t care. It has been too damn long since you’ve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and you’ve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. That’s far enough away for you. 

It’s been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issues—Luke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round. 

You don’t think you’re pushing it when you say Aaron’s support has been the only reason you’ve gotten through it, your grades—and your mental state—relatively unscathed. 

Aaron says your name, and you hum. 

“Are you listening?” he asks. 

“Of course,” you say. 

“Your eyes are closed.” 

“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” you say wryly. “What’s up?” 

You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly. 

“I got a call from Haley,” he says carefully. 

Your eyes open and you frown. 

You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.

It shouldn’t be a big deal now. But he’s treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate. 

“Yeah? What’d she want?”

“…She’s in DC for the weekend,” he says. “Some conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.”

You finally sit up, his hands falling from where he’d been playing with your hair, and you look at him.

“Your high school girlfriend wants to catch up.”

“An old friend wants to catch up,” he corrects. “I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated high school.” 

“…Okay,” you say slowly. “Do you want to see her?” 

He shrugs. “I thought it would be nice.”

“Do you think she thinks it’ll be more than nice?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “Your mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?” 

“It’s the only way I can think of her getting it,” Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since graduation.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron. 

You’ve met his mom a dozen times. You’re insistent that she doesn’t like you, despite Aaron’s assertions towards the opposite—it wouldn’t surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction. 

But that train of thought feels a little crazy. You’re confident in your relationship with Aaron—you love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. You’re not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up. 

“Go for it,” you finally say. 

He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. “Really?” 

“I trust you, Aaron,” you say. “You say she’s just a friend, I believe it.” 

You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaron’s smiling softly at you. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“‘Course,” you say, tipping a shoulder. “I’m known to be rational from time to time.” 

He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder. 

“I love you,” he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything. 

You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand. 

Sometimes you need reminders. 

“I love you too.” 

-

“Four more bodies,” Prentiss mutters. “God.” 

“You can say that again,” Morgan murmurs. 

Hotch is silent as he examines the father’s body. They’ve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadn’t been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third. 

No one expected this to happen so soon. 

The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. It’s the work of their unsub, no doubt. 

Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information they’d found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the family’s maid when she arrived for work. 

An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one man’s deranged quest for liberation. 

Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved. 

He sees Jack in every single one. He can’t help it. 

Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime scene—JJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didn’t want Reid to see it. They’ll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and it’s imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press. 

Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount. 

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says as he stands back up. “Our guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isn’t his thing.” 

He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the father’s arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. “Look at this. He’s been stabbed at least ten times, and his arm’s nearly severed from his body.”

“And his neck,” Morgan mutters. “He’s half decapitated.” 

Hotch sets the arm back down. “The unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.” He looks up at Morgan. “I don’t think he has a reason for killing the children. I think he’s getting sloppy—he’s getting overwhelmed by his anger.” 

“You think he’s devolving,” he says, catching on. 

“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of the line,” Hotch says. “Whatever he does next, he’s going out with a bang.” 

-

The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms aren’t happy that they’re working around the clock, the chief isn’t happy that the BAU hasn’t figured everything out yet, and the city isn’t happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight. 

JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their bases—they still haven’t been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city. 

The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information. 

“This just isn’t matching up,” Reid complains. “Lucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth he’s got alibis.” 

“What are they?” Hotch asks. 

“He was on the road all night when the third happened,” Reid says. 

“And how do we know?” Prentiss asks. 

“Garcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,” Morgan contributes. “Must’ve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.” 

“The last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,” Prentiss says. “I called the leader and she said he was there.”

“Do we have footage from any of those places?” Hotch asks. “We need to make sure.” 

Reid nods. “I asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through it—I can’t imagine it’s easy to get all that access.” 

“What about a second unsub?” Morgan suggests. 

Hotch shakes his head. “These are all meant to be personal for liberation—catharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.” 

“What about your suspect?” Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. “Could he be the unsub?” 

“Patrick Fenton,” Morgan says, and he shrugs. “He fits it—dead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But he’s got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I don’t see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.” 

“Maybe we’ll figure something out in questioning,” Reid says hopefully. 

Morgan’s phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. “You’re on speaker, babygirl.” 

“I found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,” Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone.  

“And?” Hotch asks. 

“I was getting there,” she says. “Lucas wasn’t there. He wasn’t on any of the footage—his sister was.” 

Hotch frowns. You? 

“You’re sure?” he asks. 

“I’m always sure,” Garcia responds. “And I don’t know if Spencer is there, but he also wasn’t there at the AA meeting—I combed through the whole meeting, and he didn’t show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.” 

“And you’re sure about that, too?” Hotch asks again. 

“What is with this questioning of my abilities?” she asks, offended. “Yes. I’ve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that I’ve got him burned into my brain.” 

“Thanks, babygirl,” Morgan says. “We’ll call back if we need anything.” 

“And you’re always welcome in this house of miracles,” she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up. 

“Lucas gave her his card,” Reid realizes. “It’s an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.” 

“Probably seemed solid to him at the time,” Morgan says. “He doesn’t seem like a detail oriented guy.” 

Prentiss frowns. “That means he’s back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.” 

Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucas’s file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. “His father died a year ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail nine months ago after a six year stint.” 

“If he’s been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?” Morgan shakes his head. “He’d snap. It doesn’t feel like justice.” 

“He thinks he’s saving the kids of these parents that he kills,” Reid says. “He sees himself in them—he can’t look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.” 

“He’s trying to get back at his dad,” Prentiss says. “We know that.” 

“But that’s not his main goal,” Reid insists. “If his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldn’t be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldn’t be the battered kid.” 

“His goal has always been protection,” Hotch realizes. “Yes, he’s getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, he’s trying to save himself.” 

“But he didn’t anticipate the kids being home this time,” Prentiss says. “He had to kill them too.” 

“If he‘s seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,” Reid says. 

“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Morgan says. “That’s gonna take a toll on him.”

“He’s coming to the end of the line,” Prentiss nods. 

Hotch’s brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. They’re so damn close—they just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucas’s next victim, they find him. 

“His next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,” Reid says. 

“You think it’ll be a murder-suicide?” Morgan asks. 

“It’s common with family annihilators,” Reid says. “Hell, it’s common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. It’s their way out.” 

And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him. 

“If his dad was still alive, I’d say he would be the target. But the only one left—”

“—is his sister,” Hotch grits out, and he’s dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him. 

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. “Where the hell is he going?” 

“The last victim,” she says as she starts following him. “The one person he never managed to save.” 

“Goddammit,” Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him.  

“What’s up, sugar?” she asks. “Got anymore leads?” 

He laughs dryly. “We’ve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road — he’s going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi and—” 

“Send them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?” she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Already on it.” 

“What would I do without you?” he asks. 

“Be half the man and twice as sad,” she says. “I’ve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.” 

“Always,” he responds, and he hangs up. 

Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of what’s going on, because he’s in the fog of a rampage. He’s in the driver’s seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him. 

Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and they’ve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didn’t really think of that through his haze. 

“We’ve got an extra one for you,” Reid says, reading his mind. 

“Thank you. I— I know what you’re all thinking—” Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.

“Just drive.” Her lips set themselves in a taut line. “We’ve got a murder to stop.”  

And he does. 

-

You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought you’d integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear. 

Summer has fully turned to winter, and you’re as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it up—the sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like you’re living in grayscale. 

A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame. 

Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, she’s running late. You don’t know if it’s a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’re stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner. 

It parks a distance away—there’s no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didn’t do assigned spots—and you have to hold back a scornful scoff. 

Of course you have to deal with this now. 

Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surprise—and what you think is shame—painted on his face. He says your name when he slows down. 

“You’re already packed.” 

You shrug. “I’m nothing if not efficient.” 

“I could’ve helped you with all this,” Aaron says, frowning. 

“Why do you think it’s done already?” you ask. 

His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Let me save you the pain of chivalry,” you say. “I’ve got a friend coming to pick me up. I’ve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. You’re welcome.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says. 

“You know what they say about a clean break,” you intone.  

“I’m sorry,” Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, it’s about the fiftieth time you’ve heard it from him in the past two weeks. 

“I shouldn’t have let you get that coffee,” you say with a grim smile, “should I?” 

His lips pull into a taut line. “I didn’t cheat on you.” 

“I know,” you say. It’s the one thing you do believe. “I just don’t think you ever fell out of love with her.” 

Mercifully, you see Amy’s car pulling up in the distance. She’s your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit. 

“My ride’s here,” you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathes. “Traffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoying—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. “You’re already doing me a huge favor.”  

“I want us to still be friends,” Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him. 

“Why?” you ask innocently. “So I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when I’m in town, and then get you to leave Haley?” 

“That’s not what happened,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head. 

You take the box from him and smile thinly. 

“Have a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesn’t involve me ever again.”

-

You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. It’s always been finicky, but you just don’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open. 

You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. He’s got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.

“Lucas,” you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, “I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight.”

His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. “I was wondering when you were gonna get back.”

“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. “This place has been quiet without you. Well— except for the cops. They were pretty loud.” 

“They haven’t been back, have they?” 

You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail. 

Your smile fades. “Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking.”

“Of course I haven’t,” he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests. 

“At least you’re not high,” you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. “And stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.” 

He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops. 

“Did you go to class today?”

“You don’t have to act like Mom,” Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff. 

“And you don’t have to act like a child.” You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. “I’m asking you about your day—that’s definitely not acting like Mom.”

“Yes,” he mocks. “I went to class.”

“Good.” You glance back at him. “I’m proud of you, Luke. You’ve been making progress.” 

His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. “Thanks. How was work?”

You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, Marie’s going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.”

“She’s still on it?” Luke asks, and you can’t help but smile a bit. 

“Don’t act like you know what I’m talking about,” you say. “Just agree with me.” 

“I agree with you,” he says. 

“That’s it,” you muse. 

Your eyes fall back on your bag, and you’re reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up. 

“Oh—” You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. “Thanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.” 

“…Of course,” he says, and he takes it back. “Glad I could help.” 

“I’ll pay you back, obviously,” you say as you get back to your groceries. “I just have to wait to get paid again.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And uh— you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?” 

You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “You have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.”

“…Good,” he says. “I can tell they’ve stressing you out.”

“Like that looks any different than my normal state,” you say wryly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.” 

You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. It’s almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to. 

“You remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?”

“I think? I was in jail, so.” 

You roll your eyes. “I know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.” 

“I remember you telling me how he broke your heart,” Luke says. 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“Then what are you saying?” 

“That he’s with the FBI now. The BAU,” you enunciate, and you huff. “He’s one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came here—they even brought me in for an interview.”

He frowns. “What’d you say?”

“The truth.” You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. “That I didn’t know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.” You shake your head with a sigh. “They must believe it, because they haven’t come back.” 

“What have they said about me?” he asks. 

“I’m not supposed to say.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really don’t feel like dealing with that…” 

You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. “I hope they find whoever’s doing it, though. It is freaking me out that there’s a murderer out there.” 

You pick up your knife and start cutting them up—they’re not the freshest, but it’s all Kroger had after work—and you glance back at Luke. “You really shouldn’t be going out so often with this going on, y’know. I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m careful.” 

“I doubt that,” you say wryly. “Still, though. I worry about you.” 

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks. “I’m your older brother.” 

“I worry about everything,” you say. “It’s my thing.” 

You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember what’s been nagging at you your whole ride home. 

“Oh— can you get the TV?” you ask. “Channel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her I’d record it for her.”

Lucas doesn’t respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up. 

“Thank you,” you say. “I think they have a fundraiser coming up or something…” you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. “God. I need to start paying attention in the break room.”

Another few seconds pass, and you don’t hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. “Luke, I’m making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.” 

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell he’s much closer than he was before. 

You don’t even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard. 

Then, there’s nothing. 

-

Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is. 

The station isn’t too far from your house, but it’s still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim they’ve had to look at. 

It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims. 

If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldn’t be happening. Your life wouldn’t be in danger. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. 

“I seriously think we’re looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,” Reid speaks up from the backseat. “This is his way of ending this for both of them—the ultimate protection of his sister.”

“No one can hurt her if she’s dead,” Morgan mutters. 

“Hotch,” Prentiss starts, treading carefully, “are you sure you’re okay to lead this?”

“Yes,” he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?

You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didn’t even realize were there, yes—but he’s an agent and a professional before all of that. 

It doesn’t matter that you have history. It doesn’t matter that you likely hate him. 

It doesn’t matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day.  

Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. It’s as simple as that. 

Hotch’s phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. “Talk to me, Garcia.”

“JJ and Rossi are on their way,” she says. “Are you headed to their place?” 

“Yes,” he says, and he puts it on speaker. “I’ve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.” 

“Do you think there’s anywhere else he could be?” Morgan asks. “If he’s going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.” 

“Already a step ahead of you, my love,” she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. “They grew up in a house in St. Charles—it’s abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. I’m sending the address to Emily right now.”

Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching. 

“Tell me how to get there, Prentiss,” he says. “He’s there.”

“You need to get on I-70,” she says, and then her brow furrows. “How do you know?”

“He’s killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sister’s rented place isn’t personal enough.” Hotch shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t he want to go back to theirs to end it all?”

“Hotch.” Penelope’s voice rings out in the car, and he doesn’t even realize he forgot to hang up. 

“What?”

“Be careful,” she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. “I… I know how important this is to you.”

Hotch’s throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them away—he can’t be weak now. He can’t let his team see him be weak now. “Dare I ask how?”

“I found an article about GW’s mock trial team,” she says. “Kind of went down a rabbit hole from there.”

Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime ago—it honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DA’s office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night. 

And now… 

Hotch’s spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He can’t decide whether he cares or not. 

“Thank you, Garcia.”

“No problem,” she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. “Uh— for what, exactly?” 

For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it. 

“Keep a watch on the patrol cars,” he says instead. “Update JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. I’m sure I’m right, but we need to cover our bases.” 

“Of course, sir.” He hears her fingers flying across the keys. “I’ve got yours and the squad cars’ locations up—I’ll call them now.” 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“Good luck, Hotch,” Garcia says softly. 

Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him. 

“We’ll get him,” Prentiss assures. She’s been watching him this whole time, he can feel it—she’s been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. “And we’ll save her.” 

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch can’t find the words. 

-

It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you don’t know why. 

You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes. 

Your arms don’t move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and that’s when you realize you’re in a chair—tied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs. 

Now the panic fully sets in. There’s a murderer in St. Louis, but you don’t fit the victimology from what you’ve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when you’re stuck in something out of a horror movie?

Lucas was the only one there with you. So either he’s in the same situation, or he—

“You’re finally awake,” a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops. 

For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you don’t look away from his gaze. 

“I was worried I was too rough,” he says softly. “But you’ve always been resilient.” 

“Lucas,” you breathe. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s finally going to be over,” he says, ignoring your panic. “We’ve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.” 

Your brother is fucking crazy. He’s fucking crazy, and he’s going to kill you.

You’ve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now he’s going to be proven right when he finds your dead body. 

You try to tamp down on your panic. You don’t have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but you’ve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life. 

And if there’s ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, it’s now. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper. “We— we can talk if you want to talk.” You tug at your ankle restraints. “This is unnecessary.” 

He shakes his head. “I know you. You’d run.” 

“Come on.” You manage as much of a smile as you can. “I’ve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?” 

“…You’ve always been too nice,” he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesn’t have his finger on the trigger. “Anyone rational would’ve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.” 

“You’re my brother,” you whisper. “I— I love you, Lucas. I’d never do that to you.” 

“Family’s supposed to be everything, right?” He shakes his head. “You were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.” 

“I’ve always believed in you,” you say. 

He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. “You’re definitely the only one.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.” 

“Mom didn’t care enough to stop anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.” 

You can’t defend your parents. Your dad’s a piece of shit, and your mom didn’t stop anything he did—but you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises. 

“I’ve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,” Lucas says. “And that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.”

You remember when you got the news. You were next of kin—your mother was dead, and your brother was incarcerated—so you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montana—apparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to death—and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyer’s office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided. 

“So you killed all of those people?” you asked. “Because you didn’t get to kill our dad first?” 

“I was saving those kids!” Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. “Saving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!” 

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat. “You’re just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.” 

“And that’s the zinger, isn’t it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. “He was right. We’re a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and you…” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You should be out there prosecuting people like me.”

“He ruined us,” Luke murmurs. “And I’m finally going to fix it.” 

All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You can’t find the words, but you don’t have to. 

Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. “Of course.” He eyes you. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say weakly. 

When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because they’re so decrepit, but you could never forget. 

Luke brought you back to your childhood home—the place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. It’s abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. There’s a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to college—except with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out. 

You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw your way back through the gates of Hell inch by inch—you will not die here. 

You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you can’t help but flinch. He won’t. Not now. 

“Looks like your friends the FBI are here,” he drawls. “You said you didn’t tell them anything.” 

“I didn’t,” you insist. “They’re profilers—they figure things out.” 

He shakes his head. “They don’t realize that I have to do this.” Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. “This is the only way to end our pain.” 

He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind you—you want to protest, but you don’t get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and he’s got fire blazing in his eyes.

“FBI,” he barks. “Hands up.”

Lucas doesn’t seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. He’s going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says smoothly. “This is a family matter.” 

“Put the gun down, Lucas,” Aaron says. 

“You know my name,” he says. “I know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.”

“Put the gun down,” he repeats. 

“I don’t think I will,” Luke says. “You see, I don’t go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.” He tilts his head to the side. “But you know that, don’t you? You’re all profilers.” 

“You’ve been targeting families that look like your own,” he says. “You think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.” 

“I don’t think it,” he bites, “I know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“This isn’t going to bring you peace,” Aaron says. “Your sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?” 

“Trust me,” Luke says. “I’m not losing her.” 

He flicks the safety off and you flinch. He’s going to kill you. 

“Put the gun down,” another agent warns. 

“If you all don’t leave right now, I’ll shoot her.” Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. “Except you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.”

“We’re not doing that,” the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think. 

“Really?” Luke chuckles. “You think you hold the cards here?” 

“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “Go.” 

Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they don’t doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave. 

“Wow,” Luke muses. “They really trust you.” 

“Because I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Aaron says. “Deep down, you know you’re not protecting her. Not by hurting her.” 

“I’m not hurting her,” he says. “She’s always been the one to keep me safe over the years—I’m finally paying the favor back. I’m finally taking her pain away.”

“You were abused as children. Both of you.” Aaron looks at your brother. “Your sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. You’re her older brother. You’re the one that was supposed to protect her.”

“My sister said you’re profilers,” he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Profiling me?” 

“You would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,” Aaron continues. “All you had was your sister, and even that wasn’t good enough—you hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didn’t think he was a good person.” 

Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “Shut up.” 

“Your sister has told me you can be more than this,” he says. “And I think she’s right. You’re better than this—better than living between the margins and jail.” 

“I’ve had a hole in my chest since I was born,” Luke mutters. “And I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s just grown and grown and grown. This— this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. You’ve got it too— I know it.” 

“I— I do,” you say. And you’re not lying. You’ve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that you’ve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. “And it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help you—we can both walk out of here.” 

“No,” he whispers. “No—we can’t.”  

“Yes, we can,” you plead. “I love you, Luke. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if that’s what it takes to get rid of that hole.” 

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you. 

“I’ve never been able to protect her,” Luke murmurs. “Not from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.” He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. “But that all ends now.” 

You screw your eyes shut. You don’t want to see Aaron’s face when your brother kills you. 

And then it happens so quickly you barely process it. 

There’s two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. There’s a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brother’s lifeless body fall to the ground. 

You scream again—you can’t even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath it—and Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and they’re talking, but you can’t focus on a single goddamn thing because your brother’s dead body is right next to you. 

Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him. 

Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force. 

Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now he’s dead. 

The only part you had left of your family—gone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake. 

Aaron’s soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“He’s gone,” you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. “He’s gone, and he tried to—”

A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaron’s arms. 

“I know.”

Aaron’s fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment. 

“You were shot,” he says with your name. “We have to get you to a hospital.” 

You don’t even feel it. God, you don’t feel anything. There’s a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers. 

But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron. 

“Get an EMT in here!” he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. “We’ve got a GSW— she’s losing blood fast!” 

You can feel Aaron’s rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours. 

“Aaron,” you whisper, your strength fading. You don’t think he hears you.

He helps you up and you’re suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and he’s beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete. 

“Aaron,” you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. “Thank you.” 

And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name. 

It’s not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die. 

-

You wake up in the hospital alone.  

You don’t know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you. 

The real surprise is that you wake up at all. 

Lucas is dead. 

He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded. 

You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesn’t exactly feel real. 

You’ve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospital—well and truly alone for the first time in your life. 

You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and you’re thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day. 

Who are you kidding? You’re going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all. 

You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and you’ve got the worst headache of your life. 

And you can’t stop playing it all over in your mind. 

He was going to kill you. 

Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU. 

Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner. 

The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do you—apparently the devil appears even when you think of him. 

“You’re awake,” Aaron says after a moment. It’s the third time he’s sounded surprised since you’ve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you. 

But there’s relief there, too.

He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside. 

“How long have you been here?” you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly. 

Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. “Three days.” 

“And how long have I been here?” 

“Three days,” he says. “You suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and… you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.” 

You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. “…Your brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to… keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one off—thankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.”

“How bad was it?” you ask. 

Aaron glances away. “You died on the table. They managed to bring you back, but…” 

“I guess Luke did succeed,” you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesn’t laugh, and you glance away too. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes.” 

He shakes his head. “If anyone’s allowed to joke about this, it’s you.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looks— god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you can’t imagine you look much better.  

“You were out for two days after,” he explains. “This is the first time you’ve woken up.”

“Why are you here, Aaron?” you ask quietly. “Why have you been here?” 

Aaron frowns. “Where else would I be?”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start. 

“My brother was a serial killer, Aaron.” Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. “He killed ten people while he was living with me and I— and I didn’t even fucking notice.” Your gaze moves back to him. “I went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.” 

“It’s not a crime to want to see the best in people,” he says. “Especially your family.” 

“It’s a crime to fucking murder people,” you huff, and it’s only slightly unhinged. “I— I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And if I did, maybe none of these people would’ve had to die.”

“Don’t blame this on yourself,” Aaron demands. “Lucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protection—nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.” 

You shake your head. “It might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but I— I can’t. He’s my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to families— god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!” 

“It is not your fault,” he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. “He was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and that’s nothing new.” 

“I just don’t know what to do.” You’ve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everything’s come to a head and you’re in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. “I have to plan a funeral because I’m the only one left to plan one, but— but does he even deserve one? He’s a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for god’s sake, but he’s my brother and even though he’s gone he’s still all I have left and—” 

You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same. 

“And I just don’t know what to do,” you repeat, barely a whisper. 

You meet Aaron’s eyes, almost desperately. You feel like you’ll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life. 

“Whatever you do,” he says, “you don’t have to do it alone. Not if you don’t want to.” 

“Aaron,” you start shakily, but he continues. 

“I know what you think, and that’s not what I’m suggesting.” Aaron pauses for a moment, and it’s obvious how carefully he’s crafting his words. “I’ve… always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isn’t the way I would’ve liked to meet you again. But I’m thankful I have.”

He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize it’s his business card, and it’s got his number. 

“I’m sorry for the formality,” he says dryly, “but I don’t exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.” 

You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner. 

“Years ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didn’t want to be involved in it,” he says, still treading carefully. You can’t believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. “But— but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.” 

“I’d like you to be a part of my life again,” Aaron finally says, “if you want to be a part of mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyes—coffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehow…

Somehow, you’ve ended up on a completely different side together. 

“My life isn’t going to be easy,” you say faintly. “Especially… moving through this.” 

“My life isn’t easy either,” he says. “I’m divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.” 

“It’s not a contest.” An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaron’s lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit. 

“Getting through this certainly won’t be easy,” he agrees. “But I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.” 

“I imagine you’re pretty busy,” you murmur. “Unit chief and all.” 

Aaron shrugs. “I make time for the things I care about.” 

Thankfully, you don’t have to figure out how to respond to that, because there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.

“It’s good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,” the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out. 

“It’s nice to be awake,” you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the room—to add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume. 

“I’ll give you some time alone,” Aaron says.

Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. It’s fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel.  

“Don’t go,” you plead, and it’s almost a whisper. “I— just— please.” 

Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down. 

“Okay.” 

And he stays. 

This time, he stays.

[silhouetteonpaper]

Saving Lives

Summary: It was supposed to be your one day off, working tirelessly as an EMT earning you a well deserved rest day. But what happens when a last minute emergency leaves you worried about the person you love the most? Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 1,481 Warnings: EMT/Ambulance mentions, burning buildings, gun use, injuries, medical talk

Natasha sits in the passenger seat of your car, the two of you driving through the city on your way back to the compound. Finally, you have the day off from your grueling job as an EMT. Although it’s incredibly fulfilling saving lives, there’s no denying it takes a lot out of you.

So, you’re glad to spend your day off having lunch with your closest friend, now heading back to the compound where you both reside. The Avengers took you in a while back—and even though you didn’t feel a desire to join their team, you found a similar passion for saving lives in a different way.

The quiet drive is suddenly interrupted by a loud alarm sounding from your phone, making you jump in your seat. “What is it?” You ask Natasha, keeping your eyes on the road. She flips your phone over to see what the ear-splitting notification is about.

URGENT: Requesting EMS 57th and Meadowdale - ALL AVAILABLE RESPONDENTS

“Shit, you’re being summoned to a call. On 57th and Meadowdale.” Natasha is well aware of your passion for saving lives and connecting with those through crisis, but she can easily see your frustration as you merge to head in the opposite direction.

“So much for a day off… I guess I’m glad we got some time together.” You give a disappointed smile, picking up your speed as there’s no time to waste in an emergency call.

Nat nods, but suddenly becomes preoccupied by her own phone. “Well, it looks like we’ll have a little more quality time.” She seems concentrated as you quirk a brow in confusion. “I’m being sent out on an emergency rescue too, on 57th and Meadowdale.” She smiles, holding up her phone to prove it.

Sure enough, there’s a request for her presence at the same scene. You move your gaze back to the road as red and white flashing lights appear in the city square. Your heart flutters nervously at the idea of all available EMS and superheroes being summoned. It must be bad if they’re in dire need for all this help.

You and Natasha waste no time hopping out of your parked car, the two of you still dressed in street clothes as you approach the scene.

“We’ve got multiple explosions up on the fifth floor. Dozens of people are wounded, and they keep coming.” A fellow EMT on the scene reports as he tends to a wounded civilian. You and Nat both nod as he explains. “We need someone to find out what’s causing the explosion, it’s all hands on deck here.”

Natasha exchanges a knowing glance with you. “I’ll go see what’s happening up there, wish me luck.” She voices before heading through piles of debris and shattered glass. You take a deep breath before rolling up your sleeves and diving right into action, beginning to work on a handful of victims at a time.

It’s hard to deny the growing nerves in your chest, the unknown of what lies in that building making you weary for what Natasha’s headed into. But there’s only so much room to think when countless lives are at risk, and you need to have ten hands to keep up with it all.

Suddenly, a loud bang ripples through the city as a cloud of flames erupts from the same building. You can’t help but wince, knowing Natasha’s already inside. What if she ends up like one of these other victims?

The urge to make sure she’s alright overtakes you, especially with sight of all these injured civilians. Any one of them could be Natasha right now. “I’ll be right back.” You tell the other EMTs, quickly peeling off your latex gloves and running through the growing debris.

“Wait! You can’t-“ The sounds of your coworkers are muffled as you enter the eerily quiet building. Your footsteps crunch as the glass beneath your feet shifts. The elevator is right in front of you, but you opt to take the stairs. Maybe it’s a gut feeling, but there’s no time to hesitate right now.

As you ascend all five flights of stairs, you hear yet another loud explosion. After taking cover while the ground shook beneath you, you’re finally on the fifth floor. Smoke floods into the stairwell as you exit, the entire floor shrouded with the effects of numerous explosions.

“Nat?” You call out, beginning to cough as the warm fog fills your already winded lungs. No response, just the sound of shuffling debris. There’s almost too much silence… “Nat!” You call out louder this time. The sound of gunshots makes you flinch, but the fear of who they’re directed at causes your anxiety to heighten.

Turning the corner into more thick smoke, you see a handful of figures moving through the dim hallway. There’s barely time to react as the smoke festers inside your chest, your vision blurring and mind becoming hazy. You’re an EMT for goodness sakes… get it together! You tell yourself, trying to swallow the emerging dizziness. But there’s no use, the effects of the explosions have rendered you powerless as you hit the hard floor.

“C’mon… please…” A violent cough escapes from your lungs as you hear a voice close by. You blink your eyes open, now feeling the cold floor beneath you. It takes a moment to regain your senses, all the while you notice a hand laying on your cheek.

“You seriously came up here knowing there would be smoke!” It’s easy to tell that Natasha’s the one right by your side, now taking your sudden consciousness as a chance to scold you.

Your only response is another cough. Natasha sighs, brushing your hair out of your face before lifting you up. It’s hard to tell what’s happening, but there’s obviously no immediate danger if Nat is acting this way.

The cool breeze that hits your face out on the street makes you finally take a deep breath. You don’t realize just how much oxygen you were missing until your lungs greedily suck in the fresh air. “We’ve got another casualty.” Nat tells someone across the way with a smirk.

You expect to be handed off to another EMT, but instead a crowd of faces you know even better file around. The Avengers stand inside the quinjet, seemingly waiting for something as Nat climbs aboard. That’s when you realize they’re waiting for you.

“Guys, I’m fine, please.” You voice, attempting to stand up as Nat places you on a medical exam table. But a loud cough interrupts your movement, the air in your lungs still trying to catch up.

Natasha guides you back down onto the bed. “Yeah, you’re not going anywhere. Just let us make sure everything’s alright first.” You roll your eyes, but still heed her words as you sit back down on the table.

Bruce does his usual check-up, the same routine you’re used to doing on so many people every single day. But this time, you’re the patient. It’s hard to shake the weird feeling of being on this side of things; if it weren’t for your attempt at being a superhero, you wouldn’t be in this position.

But at the end of the day, you wouldn’t change what you did. As Bruce finishes his once-over, you spot Natasha happily chatting with her teammates without a scratch. She glances back at you, a soft smile on her face. You return the expression, watching as she steps forward.

“Feeling better?” Natasha asks as Bruce finally packs up his first aid.

“Feeling like I could take on all those assailants.” You remark with a smirk, hopping off the table.

Natasha feels your forehead playfully. “Oh no! I think all the smoke went to her head,” she teases. “Bruce, we need to bring her ego down!”

You scrunch your nose, swatting her wrist away. As you look into her eyes, you can still see a glint of something behind Natasha’s eye. Like she’s still watching your every move—on edge, prepared for anything to happen.

“Hey, Nat. I’m sorry I went in the building… I just got worried and-“ You attempt to speak, but not before a certain someone interrupts.

“No, don’t apologize. I get why you did it, but I promise I can handle my own. As much as I love to save you from a burning building, you scared me pretty bad there. I’m glad you’re okay.” She voices. There’s no doubt you’re feeling guilty about your impromptu rescue, giving Natasha more work instead of less. 

You sigh, nodding as Natasha pushes a stray strand of hair out of your face. “So much for a day off huh?” She comments. You chuckle, the original lazy day long forgotten now.

“After all that, we’re going back home and watching a movie.” You decide, linking your hand in hers while the jet engine roars to life.

“Deal.”

[laughingfcx]

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA!

02. day2.mp4

cws: as usual, weird yuta <3 implied fighting, mild injury !? somewhat graphic description of death(?) ^_^ // masterlist is linked in the title!

wc: 1.4k!

good morning, afternoon or evening, pretty! i don't know when exactly you'll be watching this, of course, but i do hope you've taken my advice and waited for the next day to watch this! if you're even alive by now, that is! some people just end up dying, y'know, it's crazy.

good morning, yuta okkotsu. wait— why'd you just wish the weird murderer a good morning in your head? is he turning you weird too?

we— i don't have a lot to do today, so we'll go shopping! i mean, i do have to get more food, and running from the authorities doesn't really classify as fun in my brain anymore.

they want to kill me again, i think... see, i'm not against them, the higher-ups, but you gotta go with the flow, y'know? stay on top no matter what. one day, i'll be on top. mark my— actually don't, who knows what'll happen? maybe i'll end up dead! hmm, cherry or peach?

he looks back at the camera.

i'm talking gummies here; my best friend liked the peach ones, but i like the cherry flavour.

a pause; yuta pouts.

if i'm being honest, i really do miss them a lot. but they just don't understand, y'know? "do good, you'll get done good." that's just not a real thing anymore. to get what you want, you have to break the rules sometimes. i guess i broke too many, and now i've basically lost all the people i care about.

the camcorder is set down somewhere, and yuta takes a step back. he holds up three packets of something called happy cherries.

how long d'you think they'll last? eh, whatever— oh, oh shit, wait—

the screen goes black. you hear hurried footsteps, probably belonging to yuta.

that'll be $14.99, sir.

here, keep the change.

thanks.

he begins walking again; his steps speed up until he's running. vague yelling can be heard in the distance before it all just— stops.

yuta comes back into frame. he is in front of a background that suspiciously looks like the sky and nothing else, and his hair whips about messily because of the wind. he barks out a short laugh, one without any humour in it, before his mouth is set in a thin line.

they're not above sending my own friends to kill me now, it seems. rika, can you hold this?

the camcorder appears to be removed from his hands; he rolls his shoulders lazily with a yawn.

too bad none of them are anywhere near as strong as me.

then he perks up.

oh! by the way, i'm flying right now! check it out!

the camera pans around to show that he is indeed moving in midair.

rika's carrying me right now, but she's a cursed spirit, so you can't see her through the camera. but if you're still watching this, that means you can see curses in general. i'll introduce you guys someday!

the camera comes back to yuta's face. he mutters something under his breath.

if they don't kill me before that, of course. but, if i'm being honest, there's probably a higher chance of you dying from... ah... natural causes in the near future than me getting murdered by my old friends.

as if he has not just dropped that terrifying bombshell, yuta continues talking with a smile.

our next stop is the convenience store near my place! i'm really craving some instant noodles right now.

unfortunately, you'll have to go in the bag now.

yuta pouts. the screen goes black after some rustling, and he begins to hum to himself. then:

salmon cod roe.

the fuck?

yuta (you assume) makes a sharp noise in his throat.

inumaki?

mustard leaf.

what are you worried about? i'm fine.

bonito flakes.

that's not true.

yuta's voice is harsh; he seems upset.

i don't want to hurt you, toge. you'd better leave, now.

bonito flakes.

the sound of a— katana? being withdrawn breaks the tense silence.

toge.

a pause.

rika!

don't move!

the two voices ring out at the same time.

with a sudden jolt, your body goes rigid, then slack. you feel... powerless. weak. you can't move. you try to wiggle your fingers, your toes— nothing. somehow, this sudden loss of bodily autonomy is much more chilling than the self-proclaimed murderer who lives in your garage-sale camcorder. the only movement right now is the steady rise and fall of your chest as you breathe; even then, it's relaxed, when you know you would be hyperventilating right now if things were under your control.

huh?

sorry, that doesn't work on me anymore.

silence. it feels like yuta and the other person— toge? are having a silent conversation.

i warned you.

a loud crash, more running.

and then— the sky clears. metaphorically, at least. it's as if you're suddenly aware of everything again, suddenly able to move.

the recording is obviously paused; the screen immediately cuts to yuta. blood dribbles down weakly from a cut above his eyebrow, and there is a bag of frozen peas pressed halfheartedly to his cheek. he looks bored.

welcome home. i mean, my home. for now. as you can see—

he shrugs.

—there wasn't much of a fight. of course, i went easy on him. even if we're on opposite— no, even if we're not on the same side anymore, he still matters a lot to me. i don't want him to die.

but i bet you still have a lot of questions about a lot of stuff. like, why am i so sure about the person i'm talking to right now? what if you were just some old guy?

see, i can explain all of that. i'm not stupid, y'know.

the atmosphere shifts, tenses—

i wouldn't encourage you to think otherwise.

—and goes back to normal..

wait, i'm too low on sugar to do this right now.

he gets up and disappears from view, before returning with one of the previously purchased jumbo bags of cherry-flavoured, cherry-shaped gummies.

i already had the other two, but it wasn't enough, apparently. it's getting late, though. i think i'll tell you everything — or almost everything — tomorrow.

until then, don't die. it'd be so disappointing if you did. i mean, i'd still send flowers to your funeral, of course! but people are so much more entertaining alive than dead, don't you think? although...

when i really dislike someone, i think the best part is when they're writhing and crying and begging to die, when they're dying but they're also not quite there yet.

the smile on his face is bone-chilling, but also oddly attractive. whoa, dude, what the hell? why'd you just think that? what is wrong with you?

yuta pops another gummy into his mouth. his eyes close in appreciation; he looks like an eager, adorable puppy, albeit a concerningly sleep-deprived one, as he chews with a truer smile than before.

mm, i think that's enough for today! as usual, watch the next one tomorrow! goodbye!

he blows a kiss at the screen and your heart skips a beat. you shut your laptop down and get up.

"rika, do you think i made the right choice with her?" yuta asks. he is holding a magazine that was published last month. it is opened to the twenty-third page, which greets him with the title, GOING ON AN INTERNET DETOX HIKE WITH MY BEST FRIEND.

he is looking at one of the pictures in particular, the only one that does not present the scenery of wherever the author went. instead, it is a photograph of two people. the author, and her best friend — you. you smile up at him — only him, he likes to think — so prettily. he really, truly, sincerely hopes you make it out alive. he thinks the two of you would get along great.

rika shakes her head vehemently with a high-pitched cry, and yuta's smile disappears, replaced by a sudden unnerving lack of emotion. "come now, rika, don't be like that. it can't just be the two of us forever."

rika makes another noise of protest; yuta waves her away before closing the magazine.

"whatever, everything will work out, won't it?"

though phrased like a question, it is obviously a statement. as if the only option is for all this to end well. and that isn't really an understatement, is it? yuta will do everything in his power to make sure it does. and the best part is— he's powerful enough to actually do it.

taglist; @stillnotherapy @fishii28 @akaakeis @chososcamgirl @essjujutsu @xnqq @mikikkoo @brideads @schioedtei @starrissm @skullvgirl @satoryaa @aozui @kameyyy @dawnisatotalqueen @nothers @sonotpattismith @babysoo-meu

taglist is open :) i can't tag the bolded usernames!

UMMM YANDERE STALKER WHAT. I DONT LIKE THIS GUYS

im so down bad for him this isn't even normal

iya memorial service gc i will never forget u ("yandere yuta can redacted redacted" — someone in gc 2024)

next chapter will have much explaining also i was Thinking and the reader is so stupid like girl do NAWT [what she will do in the future]

i once had an entire bag of happy cherries while traveling and i felt so sick afterwards 10/10 experience would do jt again

fucking neighbours are setting off fireworks i hope they explode too (they sound like b*mbs actually)

© laughingfcx 2024 do not repost translate or plagiarise