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mieldreams · 14 days ago

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The Interview

Summary: An Interview with your co-star and childhood friend in the early 2000s.

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x reader

Warning: Crack.

A/n: the warning says crack because that's what I was on when I wrote this. more on that later.

*Set sometime in the early 2000s (possibly 2003) after the release of Life as a House and AOTC*

“—Next up we have a special and highly requested interview with Miss Y/N Y/L/N and Mr. Hayden Christensen! They starred together in the 2001 movie ‘Life as a House’ and have previously worked together on the Canadian TV show 'Higher Ground'. And after a quick little commercial break, they are going to be answering some questions sent to us by their fans! Isn’t that exciting?”

Your ears perked up at the call of your name, immediately snapping to attention and smiling politely as the cameraman pointed the camera for a shot.

“Oh, very. We love our fans and it’s nice to hear from them.” The camera switched from the interviewer to show Hayden answering.

“Yeah, it is. We’ve actually never done this, I think. So I’m kind of excited.” You said with a small smile on your face which quickly turned a little mischievous as soon as the cameras cut to the commercial.

*The cameras cut for the commercial*

“I hope they have some fun questions,” you wiggled your eyebrows at the camera and the crew, “I’m actually looking to get revenge on this guy here.” Hayden rolled his eyes jokingly and turned to you.

“You can’t seriously still be mad at that.” He chuckled.

“I am, actually. And I fully intend on making you pay,” you replied in the most serious tone you could manage.

But before he could reply, the interviewer interrupted, “Oooo what’s this I hear about revenge? Something scandalous we wanna share with the world?” his face had a curious expression.

“It's nothing too serious–” Hayden started,

“—uh, yes it!” you interrupted, manners be damned, the world has to know what a cruel friend your co-star is.

“Do you wanna tell them or should I?” you turned to him with raised brows.

“So basically,” Hayden starts with a defeated sigh, “Y/N here thinks I ruined her one chance at “true love”,” he made finger quotes in the air, “by introducing her—”

“by betraying me—”

“—by introducing her to Ewan McGregor.”

“You did NOT just “introduce” me!—” you shook your head in offence.

“He DRAGGED me to meet him even though I wasn’t ready!” you pointed at him with an accusing finger while looking at the camera crew and then at the interviewer.

While your voice took on a higher pitch to make your words sound as accusing as they did, and your face held an expression of the most genuine-looking offence, your body was quite relaxed, leaned back in your chair with your ankles casually crossed while your hands moved animatedly to emphasize your words. And that was all Hayden needed to see to know you were only pulling his leg.

So he replied with a laugh, “I just introduced you!”

“Uh yeah before I was actually prepared to meet him. I looked like a hooker caught masturbating in church with the way I stuttered and couldn’t get a single whole sentence out the entire time” Hayden and the interviewer immediately burst out laughing at your choice of words while you shook your head, your hands covering your face in embarrassment.

“And when did this happen?” asked the interviewer, still chuckling.

“A few months back – at this party with all the Star Wars folk. It was a little bit after episode 2 came out.” Hayden answered.

“So if it wasn’t for Hayden’s bad timing, would Miss Y/N have tried to shoot her shot with Mr. McGregor?” the interviewer tried digging further into this little piece of never-heard-before “drama.”

“Does Ms. Y/N have a crush on Mr. McGregor? And be honest!” the interviewer laughed.

You blushed at the question, a tiny smile appearing on your face that you made sure to hide by averting your gaze to your fingers picking a thread on your dress’ hem, “Uh...no,” you answered truthfully, fully aware that he was a married man and the Hollywood vultures that were always hungry for gossip and drama would definitely turn a harmless joke into some petty story about infidelity or worse, “I wouldn’t have done that. I mean, look what happened when I simply stood next to him! It is true ya girl is an Obi-girlie through and through, but she is not a smooth talker unfortunately.” You shook your head with an expression of exaggerated regret and pity, making the interviewer giggle.

“And how do you feel about that Mr. Christensen?” the interviewer raised his brows at the man beside you, who had surprisingly gone quiet while you had been trying your hardest to not blush and giggle while giving your answer, memories of your unholiest thoughts repeating in your head like a broken record player. (Can you be blamed really? Have you seen him in Shallow Grave? And Moulin freaking Rouge? Oh my god—)

Hayden simply tilted his head slightly towards the interviewer, you assumed he was playing the usual ‘pretend you don’t understand’ card that you both primarily resorted to when it came to vague but definitely not vague relationship questions.

But you were wrong, both ways. Because while that’s what he would have done had he heard the question, he was instead lost in the flashback reel his mind was playing — of the very night he had mentioned. Of how he may have stopped breathing when he first saw you standing across the room in that glittery short black dress. Of how he most definitely stopped breathing when his gaze travelled up your body only for you to turn, your eyes meeting his with a technicolour kaleidoscopic flash in his brain. Of how he felt a blackhole open up in his stomach when your perfectly painted red lips immediately stretched into the most dazzling smile when you realised it was him, and how quickly you had excused yourself to start walking his way.

And turns out the interviewer had, in fact, not been alluding to some “secret affairs” between you and Hayden either (as the magazines always called it, though you never understood how it could be an affair when neither of you were in another relationship, not that you kept tabs on his relationships or such things) as he clarified, “what do you think of the fact that Miss Y/N is an “Obi girl” and not an Anakin fan?”

And while you could have corrected him on how you never said you were not an Anakin girl, you were too curious to know his answer so you remained mum.

His memory reel ended abruptly, having to force a laugh to buy some time to think about his answer. If he answered too seriously, it could fuel the rumours but if he answered too casually it could fuel the rumours. He knew he couldn’t let any of his actual thoughts be known, not knowing what to do with those feelings himself, let alone trust the world with them. If he had maybe a 0.002% chance by himself, he’s sure the rumour mills would churn it down to a negative statistic. Not that he had actually thought about those calculations before, or any sorts of chances at all for that matter. No, he had never thought about just one chance for the hundred different ways he could love you or just one chance for the thousand different ways things could go wrong, what with both of your popularity and how you seemed to be two people worlds apart in your ways.

There was this queasy feeling in his stomach — odd ball of jealousy? No, definitely not. It couldn’t be. Probably just the milk he had that morning, maybe he should check the expiry date of his dairy more often.

“Um...” he shook his head while forcing a small smile on his face, “honestly? I get it man. Obi Wan’s pretty cool, eh? I mean Ewan McGregor’s definitely got the style. He’s so fun to work with and uh.. yeah, I get it. I get it.” Honestly, he himself didn’t know half of what he was saying, he just wanted to get started with the interview.

And maybe the stars were on his side that day because someone from the crew spoke up,

“Guys, so the commercial’s closing, the cameras and crew are ready. shall we start?”

“Yes.” Hayden replied a little too quickly while you nodded in agreement.

“So, we’re back after the break, and we’ll be starting with the first question to—,” the interviewer started, “– Hayden. From 10-year-old Leni Schmitt, she’s from Germany and she says, “Dear Anakin, why did you kill all those women and children when they didn’t kill your mother? I don’t judge you because sometimes my classmates annoy me too. Did those children annoy you?”

Hayden, who wasn’t expecting such a question looked at the interviewer with his mouth dropped open in shock, eyebrows raised while you sit beside him with a similar expression which you school immediately, or at least try to, but only end up having to cover up your amusement and surprise with a fake cough and clearing of your throat.

“Umm...” Hayden briefly looked at the floor, trying to come up with a suitable answer to this child’s question, he then turned back to the camera, “you see Leni, Anakin is a guy with very big emotions who isn’t allowed to talk about them openly, often. He’s a little conflicted and hurt after what happens to his mother and doesn’t know what to do. So he makes a few wrong decisions and does a few wrong—”

“—murderous” You whisper under your breath which you cover up with another cough, smirking off to the side which earns you a side eyed glare from Hayden who continuous like he never heard you.

“—things. I think he’s a good lesson that we should talk about our feelings first, even the ones that hurt and feel bad.”

“I agree, well said.” The interviewer nodded his head, switching to the next card in his hand. “This next question here, is for Y/N. It’s from 7-year-old Nancy from America. She says, “Dear Nancy, my name is Nancy too.”

“Hello, Nancy” you waved at the camera with a warm smile, understanding that the child was referencing to one of your older movies, where you played a young girl from the 17th century, named Nancy.

“I think you’re really pretty and very amazing. You’re really smart and strong and look very cool with a sword. I know pirates are supposed to be the bad guys but I want to be just as brave and smart as you when you grow up. When I grow up, I want to study space and stars too.” The interviewer continued reading from the card while you melted in your chair from the girl’s sweet words.

“PS. Can you please tell Mom and Dad to get me a sword for Christmas too?” The interviewer read with a laugh to which you chuckled too.

“First of all Nancy,” you turned to look at the camera again, “I can tell that you’re already very brave and amazing and smart. And I think it’s really amazing that you want to learn about space and stars, it’s a very cool subject.” You nodded your head with an encouraging smile, “as for the sword…” you titled your head towards the camera, dragging out the ending of the last word, “maybe you don’t need a sword because you’re already so cool. I needed the sword to fight to protect myself, but maybe you can become so smart that you don’t need one.” You hoped that the answer was sufficient for the little kid and that her parents weren’t cursing your name for their child’s slightly difficult gift wishes.

“Though swords are cool, no?” Hayden interjected with a teasing smile. You turned to give him a look with narrowed eyes, as if to say 'do not fuck with me.'

“Yes, but definitely not as cool as being really smart.” You said with strained laughter and an exaggerated smile into the camera. If the child wasn’t convinced, you were sure her parents would be sending you hate mail next for their kid’s less-than-convenient demands, so you turned to Hayden with wide eyes and an expectant expression.

“...Hmm you’re right.” He finally caved with barely contained amusement on his face, looking right into your eyes. “Nancy is really smart. And she’s really cool and really pretty too...” he broke his stare to turn to the camera, “so maybe she’s right, you don’t need a sword to be cool.” He shrugged his shoulders in a casual way.

“I’m always right.” You stuck your nose in the air and turned away from him with faux arrogance, his lips lifting in amusement as you both looked ahead waiting for the next question, except it wasn’t a question card that the interviewer held up.

“So we know we said we’re gonna have you guys answer questions from your fans,” the interviewer seemed to be holding a sort of small photograph, something like a standard 4 × 6 inches album size, but it was turned so you could only see the blank side, “but we’re your fans too, so we have a question as well.”

Hayden chuckled at that while you nodded your head, “Shoot.”

“So we have this photograph here,” the interviewer turned the photo around to show it to you both and then to the camera while your expressions immediately changed to that of surprise.

“Oh, wow. That’s really…” Hayden trailed off, still looking at the picture in surprise but now with a growing smile.

“Old.” You finished for him. “How’d you even manage to find this?” you asked.

“We have our sources.” The interviewer laughed and replied in a secretive way.

“No seriously how did you manage to find this? This was what? At least four or five years back. We look like babies!” you said, laughing in disbelief. “Can I see that please?” You wanted to look at the photo up close, the nineties quality not doing much for its clarity.

He hands it over to you and you let out a small gasp, leaning over to Hayden to show it to him as well. Your shoulders touched as you leaned together over the photograph, his fingers brushing yours as he tilted the photo to see it better.

The photo was one from the set of higher ground. It was of you and Hayden – asleep together in the highback armchair of the “common hall.” You were cramped together on the small single-seater chair, sitting side by side. Though practically, you were on his lap sitting perpendicular to him, with his feet on the floor while your legs went over his and over the arm of the one-seater couch. Your face was hidden in the crook of his neck while his head was leaned on yours, one arm wrapped around your back and the other rested on your legs while yours lay over his stomach. You were essentially squished between him and one arm of the chair and it looked somewhat uncomfortable in the photo, however if your memory served you right, it was one of the comfiest places you had slept.

“—in his arms” The Voice echoed in your brain. “Shut up,” you told The Voice.

The interviewer brought your attention back to him with a question, “So this is you two on the set of…” letting his sentence fade to let you complete it.

“Higher ground” you and Hayden replied at the same time as you left the photo in his hands to sit up straight again.

“And can you tell us more about this photo?”

“Um, yeah. This was, if I remember correctly, this was from the set of higher ground – it was the day we had to film those hiking scenes in the forest. This was towards the end of the day, I think. we were really exhausted.” You turned to look at Hayden as he replied, lifting his gaze from the photo to look you in the eyes.

“Yeah, um, funny though because I had no idea this photo existed.” You shook your head with a small laugh, “I guess the rest of them were planning on pranking us or something.”

“Clearly,” Hayden replied with a chuckle of his own, turning the photo to the camera again and pointing at all of your cliffhanger castmates gathered around the couch you both were sleeping on, each of them making funny faces at the camera.

AJ and Jewel were both holding uncapped markers in their hands, leaning over the sides of the couch with mischievous grins, their childish prank obvious. Kandyse and Meghan were standing behind the couch, with Kandyse smiling at the camera and Meghan looking down at the two of you while Jorgito and Kyle were posing in front of the couch. Kyle pointing at the two of you with one hand and making a shushing gesture with his other, and Jorgito was simply smiling at the camera holding a peace sign with his fingers.

You were honest about being completely unaware of the existence of this photo and judging from Hayden’s reaction, he was too. It made you nostalgic even though it was hardly a few years back. Your experience on the show was monumental in shaping your acting skills, specifically with how complex and flawed your character was. You remembered having a lot of fun with your castmates and feeling really good about the kind of story you were involved in showing the world. And since you and Hayden had already known each other from acting school, it made working together on set that much easier (though most people believed you to be fun and outgoing, you weren’t the biggest talker around new people).

The photo was so unexpected however, and you felt yourself get a little self-conscious at the thought that along with you, the whole audience that was watching would now be privy to it. As if the constantly churning rumour mill of romance and drama didn’t put out enough accusations of affairs and secret admirers on the both of you, this was truly the last thing you needed the world to see – you and Hayden in an embrace that looked far too familiar, as if you held each other and fell asleep in each other’s arms every day —which you didn’t. No matter how many times you daydreamed about it when you looked at his arms – his warm palms that were so much bigger than yours, the veins on the back of his hands that disappeared into his thick forearms or his strong and broad shoulders and how you’d wish time would stop whenever he hugged you in greeting. But it didn’t matter. You were friends. That’s it.

You turned to look at Hayden’s face only to realise he was actually saying something to the interviewer and you barely caught the last of his sentence, agreeing to something about his penchant for playing troubled and conflicted characters, including his character in the show. You felt guilty for spacing out and that made you feel more embarrassed, shifting in your seat to get your head back in the room and trying to clear your throat as quietly as possible.

Your movement, however, caught Hayden’s eyes and his eyes immediately shifted to you, meeting your gaze before shifting again to look you over once, to see if there was something wrong. When he didn’t find anything obvious, he looked back into your eyes, not stopping what he was previously saying but looking at you with a questioning gaze. The attention only flustered you further, so you quickly shook your head as discretely as possible to let him know you were fine but mostly to get his goddamn piercing eyes off of you, you were surely going red in the face as it is.

Thankfully, your reprieve came in the form of the next question from the interviewer.

“So the next question, is for Y/N, this is from 22-year-old Mia, she’s from France and she says “Dear Y/N, I really loved your work on ‘The Venue’, the ease with which you portray both the complex psychological conflict of the character as well as the almost euphoric seeming dissociative state she’s in throughout the movie has immediately made me a huge fan of yours. I can’t wait to watch the sequel! But I want to know – is there anything in the movie that you improvised or any part of the character that you made up yourself?”

You had picked up the glass of water in front of you to take a sip during the question, leaning forward to put it down but instead Hayden gets it for you with a simple, “here let me,” his hand brushing over yours while handing you a tissue for the water you had spilt on your dress in your hurry to put the glass down. You thank him then lean back in your seat to look into the camera with a small smile, “I’m glad you enjoyed my work Mia, thank you. To be fair, most of the ease came from just how well written her character was; so if there’s anyone to truly appreciate, it’s the writers. They helped me to really understand the nuances of her character, specifically emotionally. As for improvisations, yes actually. I did improvise some of her lines, mostly the ones with Chris Pine. With the kind of relationship those two characters had and with the help of our brilliant director, it felt natural really. Plus, Chris is an amazing actor and the chemistry these two characters have is truly something, it definitely keeps you hooked.”

“Speaking of chemistry,” the interviewer started, “this next question’s for the both of you—and this I think pretty much the entire world is eager to know at this point” the interviewer looked up from the card and paused for dramatic effect “are you two dating?”

Hayden sighed in resignation, leaning forward to pull something out from his pant pocket while you let out a joyous laugh, tilting your head back and pumping your fists in the air. He proceeded to pull out his wallet and take out what looked to be a local library card while you made grabby hands at him with a devious toothy smile. The interviewer could only watch in confusion and mild amusement as Hayden reluctantly handed over the card to you.

When you both settled the interviewer couldn’t help but voice his curiosity about whatever just happened in front of him.

“Um…” Hayden started only to be interrupted by you,

“—this is basically one of my revenge plans,” you answered with an all too pleased smile on your face.

“One of? Really?” Hayden asked with a groan tilting his head back, “heavens help me.”

“Heaven only helps NON traitors Hay–bae” you teased with narrowed eyes and your still present smirk. “You wouldn’t know.”

“I feel out of loop here, and I’m really curious so” the interviewer interrupted, pointing between the two of you “What is this revenge? Was that some sort of credit card…? Is the plan purchasing something really expensive with it?”

“Oh no no no, that would be—” you shook your head with a devious smile.

“—far too easy for her.” Hayden completed with an eye roll. “She took my library card. Her “revenge” is that she’s gonna order a bunch of really embarrassing stuff from the local library—”

You immediately started the list on your fingers, “porno magazines, questionable movies and toddler’s picture books, maybe I’ll try to order banned videos, it’ll be a real fun combo–”

“There would be kids watching this interview too, you know?” he interjected with a sigh.

“Sorry kids,” you winced at the camera, “but anyway– maybe I can order like pregnant mom guides and cult rituals instruction tapes, if they even have those—”

“And then she’s gonna make me collect them, in person,” he rolled his eyes, “cause she’s a cruel person who wants to traumatise the poor old woman who works there,”

“She’s seen things beyond your comprehension, Hayden.” You said in a jokingly patronizing tone.

“And how would you know that? What are you, friends with my local librarian?” he questioned incredulously only to receive a small shrug in response. He looked at you in bewilderment, “Oh my god? When-? How even?”

You scoffed, “We’ve known each other since we were kids, dude. You’ve lived there all your life, and she’s worked there all ours.” As if it was the most obvious explanation.

“Anyways,” you continued, “then I’m gonna make him return those things, in person, only after a week of displaying them in his house for everyone to see of course.”

“I’m not displaying them in my hou–”

“Oh hush, this is my revenge. I’ll say what to do.”

“Well,” the interviewer tried to get the interview back on track, “all the best for that. Now, shall we continue with the ques-”

Hayden leaned forward to grab his bottle of drinking water, your childish antics flustering him this time.

“Not doing it.” He whispered under his breath as he tilted his head to take a sip. You turned to look at him, ready to fire your own retort but stopped short at the sight of his side profile – his perfectly sculpted nose, his stupidly gorgeous long lashes that fluttered every time he blinked. Your gaze then fixated on his lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle, so full and pink and inviting as they slickened with the water, which then brought your attention to his throat, his prominent adam’s apple that bobbed up and down as he drank, his thick neck that looked like the most tempting canvas to paint with the print of your lips.

Your gaze lowered to his wide shoulders that stretched the sweater he was wearing before you realised what you were doing and quickly looked away, clearing your throat which unfortunately got his attention. He turned his head and your eyes met over the bottle that he still drank from and it felt like the whole world stilled for a moment before you had to look down again, feeling as if he might read you immediately, only to see his fucking neck bared enticingly again.

You leaned a little closer to him just as he finished drinking and put the bottle cap back on. sitting right next to each other, it was as if there was some sort of magnetic pull making you gravitate towards the other. You licked your lips, then bit your lower one, a hard-to-kill old habit, his gaze drawn to the movement before he looked back directly into your eyes.

What seemed to you like a moment that lasted forever, was in reality just a few brief seconds of definitely-not-drooling-over-him and way-too-intense eye contact.

“We’ll see.” you whispered with a subtle smile and a sparkle in your eyes then leaned away again, back from his personal space that you seemed to have forgotten about for a second.

He quickly looked to the interviewer and cleared his throat as he leaned forward to place the bottle back, “I’m sorry, we seemed to have gotten sidetracked. Y/N has the attention span of a goldfish.” He joked. And just like that you were back to your usual dynamic.

“If I have the attention span of one, then you have the memory of one.” You replied with a huff and a dramatic eye-roll.

“But to appease your curiosity, we basically had a bet going on.” Hayden continued.

“That he lost.” You continued with a smug thumb pointed at him.

“That I lost. We made a bet that we would get asked this question. I guess I naively assumed that rumours of us dating would be considered long dead and everyone would have moved on from this topic. Clearly, I was mistaken.” He said with a nonchalant expression that barely hid his discomfort at the topic.

“So then, should we tell them?” you turned to look at him and wiggled your eyebrows with a teasing smile. Your expression then turned serious as you tilted your head towards the camera, the smile wiped from your face, “should we tell them?”

Hayden was still leaned back in his chair to your left, while you sat at the edge of yours, your body entire turned to face his.

He merely shrugged a shoulder in response, as if to say, “Your call.”

You looked down for a second, cleared your throat then looked back into his eyes again, “We are—,” you turned to face the camera then turned your body towards the camera entirely as well, leaning ahead and further away from him while he still looked at your face, “—not. We are not dating.” You said shaking your head with a little laugh.

“But,” you wiggled your brows at the camera this time, “I still won the bet! So guess who’s getting special treatment tonight? It’s ya girl!” your thumbs at yourself and did a little shoulder shimmy, “and what’s that special treatment going to be you ask?” You continued the conversation by yourself, your voice taking on a suggestive tone with the raise of a brow, “Of really tasty food of course! And hopefully an even tastier dessert.” You laughed, looking back at Hayden this time, who was shaking his head with a fond smile that you don’t notice, because as soon as you turned to look at him he put on a faux thoughtful expression.

“Hmm… I don’t know. I don’t remember agreeing to dessert in the bet.” He looked at you with a small smirk.

Your head whips to look at him with a comically shocked expression, “Dude! You can’t be serious!?”

“Oh, but I am.” And his face held a calm and composed expression too.

“Oh my god, you promised me—” you start.

“I never promised—”

And your bickering fades as the video cuts off with the screen going blank.

The camera zooms out of the TV screen that had been playing the video.

“So, Y/N–”

“Yes, Tim?” your voice is light, going along with the joking tone of conversation the interviewer set.

“It’s been ages–what, like 15 years?” he asks.

You do the quick math in your head, “A little more than 15, yeah.”

“Wow. More than 15 years! It’s been wonderful watching you grow up to have such a prolific career.” He adds.

“Thanks, Tim. I’m really lucky to have gotten such opportunities.”

“15 years–wow. So, the first time around when we filmed that interview with you, when I interviewed you, we didn’t get to show it to the world–” he points to that same TV screen while you shake your head in confirmation.

“But now, we got to show it for the first time, even if it’s 15 years late!” he laughs. “So Y/N, from then to now, what’s changed?” he questions in a curious tone.

“A lot, Tim.”

You sneak a longing glance at Hayden who's sitting beside you on the couch before looking back at Tim. “A lot.”

“I mean–” you lift your hand, wiggling your fingers to show off the small sparkling diamond on your left ring finger. An uncharacteristically quiet smile graces your face as the audience erupts into screams in the background.

sooo it's been two decades... who's ring do we think it is? Hayden's? or did some other lucky guy shoot his shot first and win?? will we ever find out?? if it's not Hayden's should we change that??? 👀

ps: if anyone's confused about how they were sitting in the photo it's something like this but they're sitting on one of those single armchair types so they'd be forced a little closer so more like this or this (with ur butt on the cushion itself cuz you're still! just! friends!!!)😏😈

A/n: aight so when I said I wrote this on crack didn't mean literally ofc. (though I might as well have been, considering how stupid this is lol)

I wrote this ages ages ago when I watched a bunch of 2000s HC edits and got crazy stupid embarrassingly obsessed with him (again) so I just had to channel all that into some cringe thing. so here it is. after rotting in my drafts for so long. idk might take it down later we'll see. but for now y'all have her (even tho nobody asked for this so im sry)

I had only written this for shits and giggles so if things don't make sense don't bother telling me I already know.

But if you enjoyed it do like and comment! xx

#hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen #star wars #hayden christensen fanfiction #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen fluff #star wars prequels #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #scott barringer #x reader #star wars anakin #miel works

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gothamite-rambler · 20 days ago

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Jason and Rose pretending to hate each other in front of Dick because they DO NOT want him to know they're trying out dating. It's worse than if Batman knew!

Rose Wilson smacked Jason Todd on the back of the head alarming Dick Grayson as the two sat on the couch.

Rose: Left my wallet here again. Oh and Jace, your white tuft looks goofy.

Jason (to Rose): You're missing an eye, Rosie.

Rose: And it doesn't hinder my aim. Tell me does it suck you share the same name with the serial killer with mommy issues?

Jason: Does it suck you share the same name of the bent who let Jack drown?

Rose (chuckling): Figures you'd be into Titanic. Notebook your favorite movie too?

Jason: Much like my preference for women my standards aren't that low. Sorry, that means you're off the list.

Dick raised his finger to talk, but Jason cut him off with an equally sly remark.

Rose (snaps her fingers with a fake pout): You wound me, Jace! Sadly I can't do the same with you since it has to be impossible to wound someone who’s already so... dead inside.

Jason: That'd piece my heart if it wasn't coming from someone who's got so much baggage she'd have to pay fees.

Rose (crossing her arms with a smirks): Oh sweetie, my baggage is designer. Yours? It looks like it came from the clearance aisle.

Dick: ...

Jason: At least I can shoot a clear shot, cyclops.

Rose: Aww, honey this cyclops can make sure you're back in the hole.

Dick (not sure who to call out): ...

Jason: If you think you'll win then you'll be shocked when you lose your other eye. Does the 'good' one you have left work? How many fingers am I holding up?

Jason hold up one hand with two fingers. Rose smirked and held up both hands, both middle fingers raised.

Rose: Two? And I can see your equally goofy ghost hair.

Jason: And I can see that you are a bitch.

Rose: Same to you, asshole.

Rose grabbed her wallet and left without saying a single word to Dick.

Dick cleared his throat, looking at Jason with a mix of disbelief and exasperation at the exchange before him.

Dick: Could you maybe try being nice to her?

Jason: Not a chance. Pushing her buttons is way too entertaining, and she gives it right back. I'm honestly impressed... with how good at quips she is.

Jason pretended to check if the safety of his gun was on while avoiding eye contact from his brother.

Dick (shrugging and nodding in agreement): If that's how it is, why do you guys even go on missions together?

Jason: Honestly, I can’t stand her, but she’s a solid fighter and knows how to track some of Black Mask’s associates. She’s got her uses.

Dick (taking this in): That’s a bit odd, but please try to be civil. If you need me to, I can have a word with her about what she said.

Jason bit his bottom lips, surprised that Dick seemed to buying that he and Rose hated each other.

Jason (checking his gun’s chamber): Don’t sweat it; we’ll hash it out later. I’ll make sure to smooth things over for you.

Dick chuckled and shook his head, exasperated yet amused.

Dick (sarcastically): Oh, wonderful. Thanks a lot for that.

--------------------------------------------------------

Hours later, Jason and Rose were entangled in each other’s clothes, their lips colliding with fervor in the dim light of Jason's apartment.

Rose: Mm, I missed your lips.

Jason leaned in, deepening the kiss as he pulled her closer, guiding her toward the inviting intimacy of his bedroom.

Jason: I couldn’t stop thinking about you after you left.

Rose: Guess my spell really worked on you, huh?

As Jason trailed kisses down her neck, a shiver raced through Rose, igniting a palpable heat between them.

Jason: Whatever you say. Just so you know, I want you tonight.

Rose (smiling as her fingers wove through Jason's hair): Luckily for us, we both have the night off.

A soft chuckle escaped him, his arm tightening around her waist, drawing her even closer.

Rose (remembering their earlier exchange): By the way… Did he buy it?

Jason: Yeah, he thinks we can't stand each other.

Rose: Perfect. I hate you... so much.

Turning her to face him, Jason smirked, lifting her chin until their gazes locked with a heated intensity. The kiss that followed was soft at first, but quickly turned passionate, his mouth teasingly nibbling on her lip.

Jason: Show me just how much you really hate me.

With a playful shove, Rose pressed her palm against his chest, pushing him back onto the bed.

Rose: Let’s see if we can hate each other all night.

In a swift, effortless motion, Jason grabbed her arm and flipped her onto the bed, positioning himself above her.

Jason (sensually): I can’t stand you.

Rose (letting out a moan): You make me sick.

The air between them crackled with electric tension, both fully aware that this was far more than just a game.

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in-my-feels-probably · 2 years ago

Note

NIKOLAI LANTSOV MY LOVE

Maybe some angst/hurt/comfort where reader patches him up or from the show the aftermath of the battle where he's wounded

Salt In The Wound

Request: Maybe some angst/hurt/comfort where reader patches him up or from the show the aftermath of the battle where he's wounded

Hi! This is my first time writing for Nikolai! Bear with me while I try and get his character worked out, he’s a bit hard to write for. But I hope you like the outcome! Thanks for the request :)

(Warnings: season 2 spoilers, mentions of death, mentions of fighting, blood and wounds, general angsty shit, let me know if i missed anything)

—

When you arrived back in Keramzin, you found Nikolai and his crew in tatters. You had gone with Tolya to find the Sword of Neshyenyer, orders directly from Nikolai himself. It was bullshit, in your opinion.

He had done it to keep you safe, you knew that. He didn’t want you anywhere near the Fold, not while the Darkling still lived. Tolya was more than capable of keeping you safe, so you were sent with him. It wasn’t like Nikolai thought that you couldn’t handle yourself. That wasn’t it at all. He just preferred being the one to keep you safe, and he couldn’t do that while the Darkling was still in play. You had whined, but relented, not wanting to cause him any more stress than he was already under.

After your own obstacles, you finally made it back to Keramzin with the sword in your possession. To your horror, Nikolai’s ship was found wrecked in the valley.

Tolya ordered everyone to split up, and you followed him. You fought alongside him, letting him take the lead. When you caught onto Nikolai’s trail, a Heartrender found their way up the cliffside where you and Tolya were hiding.

“Take a deep breath,” he whispered, holding you still by your shoulders. “I have to slow our heartbeats so she doesn’t know we’re coming.”

You nodded, sitting as still as you could beside him. It felt like you were suffocating, your body going rigid. Tolya held you like that until he was sure the other Heartrender was gone, and then he released you. You gasped for breath, slumping against the boulder behind you. Tolya stood, bracing your arm with his to hoist you up.

“Your heart is pounding. Are you that scared for him?” He asked, continuing on Nikolai’s trail.

You quickly followed behind, trying not to think about the worst possibilities. He could be hurt, or–Saint’s forbid–dead. The thought nearly made your knees buckle. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the idea. But there was no point in pretending. Tolya knew your heart. He knew who it was beating for.

“I always am.”

—

Minutes later, you had followed Tolya all the way through the first crowd of Grisha that were blocking Nikolai and his crew into a corner. Together, you took them down one by one, following their trail all the way to where Nikolai was hiding. The Crows came in from the opposite direction, taking out what was left of the band of Grisha still fighting.

Tamar buried her axe in the last Squallor’s head, and Nikolai stood to shoot the last remaining Tidemaker.

The one you would come to hold responsible for the death of Dominik Vertov, Nikolai’s oldest friend. Tolya boosted you over the wooden wall just in time to see her body hit the ground.

“Nikolai,” you gasped, taking in his appearance.

He was caked in dirt, his clothes torn. He had cut himself somewhere along his temple and cheek, with blood and grime matted into his hair. His pants were ripped, revealing a nasty gash in his lower thigh. He appeared to be limping as he turned at the sound of your voice, his shoulders slumping in relief.

You closed the gap between you both, wrapping your arms tight around his neck. He pulled you into a bone crushing hug, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re alright,” he murmured, breathing you in. “Saints, I thought that was it for me for a second there. Sending you with Tolya was smart thinking on my part.”

You squeezed him tighter, grumbling as you scolded him. “I’m never listening to you again! From now on, you’re staying by my side. I don’t care what your orders are. Look at you, you’re hurt!”

“Barely a scratch, darling,” he said reassuringly as he finally pulled away, taking your hand in his. “You can yell at me later, alright? The blade, did you find it?”

Kaz picked up his cane, nodding. “Inej has it. They’ve gone to find Alina and Mal.”

“We have to do the same. If Kirigan brought the fight here, he’s gunning for her.”

Tolya patted Nikolai on the shoulder, getting his attention. “Y/N and I cleared a way into the fort. Come on!”

You wanted nothing more in that moment than to whisk Nikolai away from all the chaos and madness of the looming threat in front of you. Keeping him away from the Fold and out of harm’s way was what your brain was screaming at you to do. But you had your duty to Nikolai, and to Ravka. You had a duty to Alina, who was going to save you all. You had to put aside your own wants, and do what was right.

Nikolai nodded, squeezing your hand. “Come on, milaya.”

Sweet girl.

You sighed, wrapping one arm around Nikolai’s waist, letting him hold on to the other to brace himself. Once you were sure he was ready, you moved in tandem. Together, you hurried behind the group into the fort.

—

The following events couldn’t have taken more than an hour. But it felt like a lifetime, watching Nikolai’s every move in the Fold.

Kaz had given him his cane so that your arms were free. You were able to fight then, and you fought with your life alongside your friends as you made your way through the fort.

By the end of it, the Fold was gone. The darkness was gone, and the Darkling along with it.

But not before the nichevo’ya got ahold of Nikolai, clawing him in the shoulder as it dragged him up a column.

That was the worst of it. Knowing he was looking death in the eye, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. The nichevo’ya were unkillable without the blade, and Inej was nowhere in sight. You had clambered to get to him, screaming and waving your hands to try and distract the monster, begging for it to let Nikolai go.

Tamar had held you back, letting Tolya take the lead alongside Adrik and Nadia.

“He’d kill me for letting you die for him, and you know it!” She said solemnly, her face crumbling at the sight of her King. “I promised him I would keep you safe, Y/N! Let them do this.”

You felt your knees buckling, and your throat beginning to burn as you let out desperate wails and pleas. You could barely see through your tears as you begged Tamar to let you go, trying to wrench yourself free of her hold. Nadia and Adrik continued to use their powers to try and separate the shadows, their attempts failing.

Finally—to your relief—the monster disappeared upon the Darkling’s death.

Nikolai dropped to the floor, landing with a harsh thud. Tolya moved to catch him, and Tamar let you go, joining her brother at Nikolai’s side.

“Kirigan must be dead!”

You scrambled to the floor, reaching for any part of Nikolai you could hold on to. He immediately chased your touch, clinging to your arms as you laid by his side. He gasped for breath, clutching his chest.

You let out a cry of relief, cupping his jaw. Your throat was raw, your voice small.

“Nikolai,” you said through tears. “Are you alright?”

He clutched at his shoulder, grimacing in pain. He remained stoic, trying to hide his fear for you. It was a valiant effort, but he couldn’t keep up the facade, a few stray tears rolling down his cheeks as he breathed heavily.

“I’m alright, darling,” he nodded, not sure if his words were more in an effort to reassure you or himself. Either way, not much comfort came from his words.

He clutched your hands tightly for a moment, before allowing you, Tolya, and Tamar to help him up off the floor.

—

Outside, you rested Nikolai on top of a crate to get him off his feet.

Inej came down with Alina to confirm the death of the Darkling, letting Nikolai know that Zoya was guarding the body. With your help, he shakily stood, thanking everyone for their help. Much to your displeasure, he asked you to take him back to his ship. He needed a minute to himself, before everyone needed to gather and discuss what to do next.

“That’s a lot of walking on that leg, Nikolai,” you said anxiously, walking cautiously behind him as he led you up the hill. “You’re so stubborn, sometimes.”

He smiled, leaning into you. “You love it.”

You rolled your eyes, keeping your arm around his waist as you followed Tamar and Tolya back to the ship. Aboard the ship, you eased him down onto a turned over barrel. Tolya came over to hand you a sack full of bandages and clean rags.

“Take care of him,” he smiled, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We’ll be over here if you need anything. We should head back to Alina soon, though.”

You nodded, giving him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Tolya. For everything.”

—

“Are you alright?” You asked once everyone had settled, and Tamar and Tolya had given you a moment alone.

“Dominik,” Nikolai answered sadly, casting his eyes to the deck.

“That wasn’t your fault,” you firmly reassured, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to pull him into your side. “He died for his King and country. He was brave enough to save your life. For that, I’ll be eternally grateful to him.”

Nikolai’s face crumbled, and he hid his expression into your side. “I don’t want anyone dying for me, Y/N. I don’t want to be the kind of King who has to ask his people to lay down their lives for him.”

You ran a hand up and down his back, bending down to press a kiss on the top of his head.

“Listen to me. You’re going to be the best King that Ravka has ever seen. And that comes with making sacrifices. It’s not fair, I know. I know you don’t want it, and I wish I could take on that burden for you. But you’re all we’ve got, and I believe in you. We all do.”

Nikolai sniffled, letting his cheek rest against your stomach. You combed your fingers through his hair, careful to avoid the gash on his temple.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I know how much Dominik meant to you. But his death wasn’t for nothing, I need you to understand that. He didn’t die in vain. His bravery will be remembered, I promise you that. And so will yours, because of today. I’m so proud of you, lapushka.”

Darling.

“I’m getting blood on your shirt,” he spoke, muffled into you.

“I don’t care, love. It’s just a shirt.”

You lightly chuckled, letting him change the subject. For a man who speaks so highly of himself, Nikolai didn’t take genuine kindness and adoration well. It was a good thing his face was hidden in your shirt. His cheeks were flushed a rosy pink at your words, his eyes glazed with tears. You continued running your fingers through his hair, when he finally sniffed, pulling back.

“I care,” he grinned, looking up at you. “That’s my shirt you’re wearing.”

You smiled sheepishly down at him, nodding. “Forgot about that. Well, I suppose we should get you cleaned up, then. Alright?”

Nikolai nodded, and you reached into the bag, pulling out a couple of clean cloths. You used your canteen to wet them, crouching down to deal with the gash on his leg first. You wiped as gently as you could, grimacing when he would wince.

“I don’t think you need stitches. Best get a Healer, though. I don’t want you limping the rest of the day.”

You finished wrapping his leg, standing to grab a fresh cloth. You wet it, standing to the side of Nikolai to try and wipe the caked blood and dirt out of his hair so you could find the source of the bleeding. You sighed in frustration, gently untangling the hair matted to his temple.

“What?” He asked quietly.

“Nothing. I just can’t figure out where you’ve cut yourself. I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No, darling,” he murmured.

You nodded, continuing to wipe away the dry blood from his temple. It was a miracle he wasn’t more injured. You huffed, trying not to think about the fact that you weren’t with him when the ship went down. Trying not to think about the fact that he could have died, and you never would have seen him again. Never would have gotten to run your fingers through his hair again, or hold him in your arms. Never—

You were pulled from your thoughts when you felt hands grip your hips, pulling you forward.

You looked down to see Nikolai gazing up at you, his hands resting on your hips. He pulled you into him, slotting you between his legs. You rested your hands on his shoulders, steadying yourself.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

You wouldn’t meet his gaze, clutching his shirt in your hand. “Like what?”

“Like you’re looking at a ghost.”

You clutched him harder, taking a deep breath. You finally met his eyes, and he was looking at you with determination. He tugged you further into him, holding you still.

“I’m right here, milaya,” he said, reaching for your hands. “I’m alright.”

“But you almost weren’t,” you said shakily, squeezing his hands tight. “I was so worried, Nikolai.”

He stood on wavering legs, wrapping his arms around you. He pulled you into his chest, squeezing you tight. You pressed your cheek into his chest, clutching him as close to you as you could. You decided to stifle the thought, dropping the conversation.

He was here with you, right here. And he was alive. That was enough.

“I didn’t finish bandaging you,” you murmured into his chest.

Nikolai chuckled, pressing a kiss into your hair. “I’ll have Genya do it. You were butchering it, anyway.”

You pulled away, playfully slapping his arm. “Was not!”

“You were,” he mused, taking your hand. “But that’s alright. I don’t keep you around because you’re a good Healer.”

You raised a brow, turning to head off the ship back in the direction of the fort. “And what do you keep me around for, moi tsar?”

Nikolai smirked, taking your hand as you guided him down. “Other things, milaya. Other things.”

—

A/N - Hi! Hope this is alright :)

#nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x reader #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse #shadow and bone imagine #shadowandbone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone

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blue-sadie · 11 months ago

Text

Blood Flood

Peter Parker x Girlfriend Reader

Summary: Peter knows somethings up when you miss school so during lunch he races to your rescue

Warning: bad cramps, short

Yn/3rd person pov

I moaned out in pain curling further into my knees as a surge of pain shoot through my stomach no matter the heat that radiated from the hot water bottle or the painkillers I took nothing helped.

"Yn yn yn" I cringed out of embarrassment as I heard Peter crawl through my window, I pulled the covers tightly over my head "hey hey whats wrong" he asked his voice a bit raspy and breathless from his journey here.

"I'm fine" I grumbled and grunted as another pain surged, he quickly cooed taking a seat next to me on the bed his hands gently grabbing the edge of the blanket urging me to let go.

"Whats bothering you baby" he murmured as I finally let the blanket go so he gently pulled it away revealing my face dried tear stains ran down my cheeks and the makeup I tried doing this morning as I got ready for school smudged all over my face.

He gave me a sad smiled as he raised his hand to caress my cheek "the time of the month again" he questioned and I nodded sadly nuzzling into his hand the warmth somewhat easing my pain.

He smiled fondly dropping his bag onto the floor and removing his hand from my face and moved to the other side of the bed climbing in behind me, his body pressing up against mine and his arms wrapping around my torso.

"What about school" I whispered turning my head to look at him, he shook his head his arms grazing my skin in a calming matter "I'd rather spend time with my girl and make her feel better" he said pushing his head into my shoulder.

"Do you need anything food, water, juice, junk food" he rumbled "I can go to the convenience store down the stre-" I stopped him as I turned my head pecking his lips "I'm fine peter, I'm better with you with me" I smiled raising my hand to run through his hair, he hummed in satisfaction.

We fell into a comforting silence just enjoying eachothers company intil another surge of pain rippled through my body, a struggled cry left my lips making him sit up and cradle my body into him.

"I-is there anything I can do to help" he stumbled his voice fill of concern "painkillers" I muttered holding my stomach tightly he nodded furiously as he jumped from the bed fumbling with the things on my bedside table looking for the pill bottom.

"Baby where are they" he asked picking up the few things that fell and putting them back onto the table "bathroom" I groaned somewhat gesturing to my connecting bathroom.

He rushed to the bathroom whisper yelling out a yes as he found them "here you go baby" he murmured as he came back grabbing the half full glass of water and the pill bottle, I gulped down two and groaned out as he took the hot water bottle from my stomach.

"Don't worry I'm just going to warm this up and refill this" he said taking the now empty glass from my hands before leaving my room, I relaxed back into the bed the bad cramps subsiding as the painkillers kicked in.

"I'm back" he sung sweetly walking back over to me placing the glass on the table and placing the hot water bottle against my stomach "thank you" I whispered smiling up at him, he smiled back placing his hand onto my cheek.

"I am always here for you whenever you need me, all you need to do is ask, I love you and ill do anything for you, especially if your in pain I wish I could take it all away but I can't so I'll make up for it anyway I can"

#marvel fanfiction #marvel #marvel fluff #marvel x reader fluff #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #the avengers #avengers x reader fluff #avengers fluff #spiderman #spiderman fluff #spiderman x reader #spiderman x reader fluff #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader fluff

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justkending · 1 year ago

Text

It's just a hobby. (Drabble)

Summary: You took up a new hobby, and Dean likes to poke and tease you for it, but you feel the need to seek a little revenge for the constant joking.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3300+

A/N: I started this during the summer when I started five different crocheting projects (ADHD carried my summer hobbies) and decided to finish it before school started back up. I am currently still writing Found Memories, but I have to put a pause on it as the first month of school tends to take a lot of my time away from hobbies like writing… I’m moving to teach 8th-grade English this year and could use all the energy you’re all willing to send my way! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short story, and I’m happy to have the inspiration to write for Dean again :)

(Also, this is the closest to smut I think I've ever written...)

_______

“Seriously?” Dean grumbled as he looked in the rearview mirror seeing me pulling yarn to untangle a knot I had created.

Knowing where he was going with his normal banter, I just laughed and continued to focus on the craft in front of me.

“I pulled this out like 20 minutes ago. How are you just now noticing?”

“I’m watching the road,” he argued, and I rolled my eyes. As always, he had been sneaking glances to the back of the cab at me every other minute. “The hunt wasn’t even 40 minutes away from the bunker. Why did you bring that?”

“Why do you listen to the same three Led Zeppelin songs when you're upset about a hunt?” I countered, and he opened his mouth to disagree, but I answered for him to skip the sarcastic conversation brewing. “Comfort Dean. It’s all about comfort.”

“Why are you so weirded out by a normal hobby?” Sam jumped in, smirking, and sporting one of the many beanies I had made him with said hobby, which he had come to love. He looked down at a newspaper in his lap, no doubt already scoping out a new hunt.

“It’s not-” Dean stumbled on his answer. “I’m not weirded out by it. It’s just not a hobby I imagine someone like Y/N taking up.”

“You just described why you’re weirded out by it,” Sam looked at him with a blank stare.

He ignored him and rolled his eyes.

“What kind of people do you imagine the crocheting community to be full of?” I smiled, still looking down at my hands and knowing his answer already.

“Grandmas,” he replied almost immediately.

“Hmm,” I hummed as if surprised by his confession, even if it was wrong. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll stop wasting my talents on things for you.”

I could see his eyes shoot up in the mirror and a look of regret ghost over his green orbs.

Dean liked to make a big deal about this particular hobby I had started up a little over six months ago. I think a part of him just liked to tease me about it, but deep down, I knew he was proud of my growth. He was just bad at voicing it.

The first things I ever crocheted were just simple squares in different stitch work to learn a variety of them better. Those squares became washcloths and, surprisingly, were still used daily in the kitchen.

I learned to make bags, socks, hats, sweaters, stuffed animals, and even a few blankets.

“Just 30 minutes ago, you took down five security guards, wrestled three teenage vampires, and booby-trapped half of his nest. Now you’re crocheting a sweater for Charlie that says, ‘What’s up bitches?’ in the backseat. Mind you, with blood still smeared on your face,” he raised an eyebrow at me in the mirror.

I looked up and leaned toward the front to get a better look at myself.

“Oh, shit, I thought I got it all,” I groaned, seeing a smear on the side of my face I must have missed.

“It doesn’t add up,” he shook his head, but I could see a joking smile on his lips.

“Much to your surprise Dean, girls can have more than one personality trait. I know you boys are all, ‘Ugh, monsters! Kill, kill, kill! I need a scotch in my hand and The God Father playing on loop in the background to show how manly I-’

“Hey,” Sam cut me off and looked at me with his sad puppy dog eyes. “I’m on your side.”

“You’re right… You also like to read and share fun facts,” I winked, touseling his hair and getting a scoff of a laugh as he swatted my hand away. “See how hurtful it can be when you forget our brains have the capacity to do more than one thing?” I turned back to Dean with my arms crossed on the bench seat in front of me.

“I don’t think you're incapable of having more than one interest in life; I just think it’s interesting that you chose a 90-year-old women's side gig as your hobby,” Dean countered, pulling into the garage.

“Well, if you can’t appreciate it, then you can’t have the gifts my hard work creates,” I huffed, gathering my things and sliding back to the door as Dean parked the car.

Once the car was in park, I was the first out. I wasn’t actually mad at him, I was a hundred percent messing with him, but he deserved it for teasing me this long about it when I knew he loved everything I had made him this far.

He had a favorite blanket that he preferred to sleep with now. He had a nice sweater he wore around the bunker when he was cold. He had a few pairs of socks he preferred over store-bought ones. He even had a miniature plush Batman figurine that sat on his desk that I had learned to crochet just for him.

“Y/N, you don’t mean that!” he called after me, standing in the door on the driver's side of the Impala and shouting over the roof of it where I was walking inside.

“We'll find out soon,” I yelled back, never turning around.

The next three days, I teased him like he had me about this whole ordeal, but in my own way.

When we were cooking in the kitchen or doing dishes, if he grabbed one of the squares that now acted as our kitchen hand towels, I would steal it from his hands and say, “Sorry, merchandise can only be used by those who value it.”

With which he would respond, “Wait! I need that!” with his hands drenched in water after washing his hands.

Just for extra measure, I took all the towels and moved them to a new place only Sam and I knew. He was happy to join in on my little prank, and every time he had one, he made sure Dean saw him with it.

“Where did you get that?” Dean would jump up from wherever he was and march over to him to try and steal it.

“Only the VIP customers have access to these,” Sam would wave it above his head out of reach of Dean.

Another time, after a hunt, it was freezing in our motel room, where the heater barely worked, and the hotel didn't have enough blankets. Luckily I had one packed in the trunk of Baby, and I used it for extra coverage.

Even though Dean and I shared a bed, I wrapped it around me as I slept and said, “Sucks that you hate this so much, or else I’d share with you…”

He stared at me with complete annoyance when I gave him an exaggerated “Oh well” face before stealing it all for myself.

I did, however, wake up to sharing it, but only because he had stolen it, and I was too tired to fight him about it.

I think one of my favorite times I rebuked him of his privileges was when he was wearing a pair of socks I had made him for Christmas around the house. I may have gotten a little more intense than I needed to, but the look on his face made it worth it.

He had come into the movie room to binge a few episodes of a new series I got him hooked on, and after he called me in to watch with him, I noticed the specific socks he had on.

I grinned once my brain had formulated a plan to make him regret ever giving me hell for a hobby he obviously loved himself.

“Claire said there was a show called Love Island we should watch. I have no clue what it’s about, but she said it was popular and what the kids are watching now,” Dean conversed as he grabbed the remote from the table and stood with a blanket (not one of mine, as I had relocated all of them so he couldn’t find them) around his shoulders.

He was in the perfect position for my plan.

I walked over and, instead of facing the TV, stood right in front of him and looked up at him.

“You know what we could do?” I whispered in a low and sultry voice, bringing my hand up to his chest and inching my fingers up to the collar of his t-shirt before pulling at it gently. His eyes instantly darkened, and he was frozen in his place.

“Wh-What, uh, what can we do?” he stammered out. Even after three years of dating, he still got nervous. I loved it.

“I think you know what,” I said, tiptoeing upward to quietly say in his ear, bringing my hand from his chest to the back of his neck, softly pulling him closer to me.

“I think I have an idea,” he replied more confidently, immediately bringing his free hand to my waist and squeezing it.

I could have faltered there, but I held strong. I was going to make him pay for all his little ‘grandma’ jokes he had sent my way the last few months.

I pulled back, sending him a smirk that I knew revved him up. He returned it with his own and started leaning down, forgetting his grip on the blanket and remote. Now both of his hands sat on my hips with a stronghold.

Before he could lean down any further, I pushed him backward harshly on the couch, and at first, he was shocked, then he was excited.

Slouched into the cushion, looking up at me, his tongue came out to lick his lips and ended with a bite to his lower lip as he eyed me up and down as I stood over him.

“Dear God, Y/N,” he hummed under his breath.

I guess it helped that I was wearing some of my shorter PJ shorts, ones he had told me were his favorites, and a shirt that was cropped and slightly falling off my shoulder.

He had a thing for me being in a disheveled manner like this. Reminded him of how I looked after we fucked around, and he held pride knowing he played a part in the kind of glow I gave off.

I wasn’t sure how long I could do this without failing myself on the original mission. I came here to fuck with him, and now he was the fucker. Or at least he was going to be if I didn’t follow through with my plan in the next minute.

“You know, you should be happy you were by the couch,” I smiled, stepping to him and strategically bringing my legs to straddle his hips teasingly.

His breath hitched at that, and I knew I had regained the upper hand.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” he hummed as he admired my hands pressing into his chest as I leaned in, bringing myself closer to him.

“I was about to take you wherever I found you,” I whispered, looking him dead in the eyes with a soft smile. I looked him up and down and bit the inside of my cheek. That seemed to trigger his hands back to my hips instantly. This time a much more possessive lock on them.

“I don’t know where this is coming from, but I can’t complain,” he said lowly, and I knew he was hooked. Now it was time for revenge.

“Can I ask you a question?” I hummed, running my finger lightly over his hair down to his jaw, using the tip of it to push his chin up so I could see his eyes better.

“Please,” he buzzed, drunk with lust.

“Hmm,” I hummed, smiling more, dropping my gaze to his lips, then back at his eyes where he was drowning in dopamine by our current position. “Those socks you have on?” He didn’t catch on immediately and just furrowed his eyes as he processed what I asked. “They look familiar.”

I leaned back from my seat, still straddling his hips, but not with nearly as much pressure as before.

“What-” Dean started, but it dawned on him mid-thought. His eyes went from ready to tear my clothes off to annoyed realization. “Seriously.”

“What?” I feigned ignorance and stood up, repositioning myself between his legs, both hands on his knees as I looked at him and leaned over.

He couldn’t tell which way this was going for him, and that was the point. I was still winning this little game.

I eased myself lower, squatting with my knees going into the couch and in between his thighs. My hands went flat on his knees and slowly started working up his thighs.

“I can’t tell what you’re doing here, Y/N,” he said in a breathy voice. I watched as he tried to control himself, looking up away from me but not being able to help react to my hands on him.

“I’m not doing anything,” I said in a voice that made him lower his nervous wandering eyes back to me. The amount of green in his eyes disappeared slowly.

“You’re teasing me,” he said shortly as if he was worried his voice would tremble if he didn’t get it out quickly.

“Maybe, maybe not,” I shrugged with a pursed lip before bringing my hands slowly back down his legs.

“You’re mad at me,” he stuttered the last word when my hands worked their way back up, but further up than before.

“Now, why would you think that?” I tutted, shaking my head with an exaggerated look of hurt.

All he could do was take a slow, deep breath in as I tilted my head and smiled devilishly at him.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t play innocent.”

I grinned.

“You and I both know I’m far from that…” My tone was darker than before but in a seductive and tempting manner.

He couldn’t hold back anymore. He shot up from his slouched position and leaned forward, grabbing my forearms in his hands and pulling me up in his lap with his nose mere inches from my own.

“If your goal was to make me suffer, you won,” he whispered so quietly; if I wasn't this close, I wouldn't have heard it. He tilted his head up just enough for our noses to brush before pulling back.

“Keep it together, girl… Keep it fucking together,” I repeated in my head.

“Did I? Or am I just getting started?” I snarked, and that caused the new grip on my thigh to tighten, and I almost groaned at the pressure.

“Don’t start a war you can’t win,” he smirked, feeling as though he possessed the power.

Two can play that game.

I smiled, bringing my free hand up and tracing it behind his ear before wrapping it slowly around the back of his neck. I brought his face closer to mine but stopped right when I could feel the brush of his lips.

Our chests were pressed into each other, and I could feel his heart rate pick up. Perfect.

I nudged our noses again and smiled as his eyes closed, and he naturally and lazily chased my lips.

I rocked my hips in a measured manner, placed perfectly in the middle of his lap, and he sucked in a breath at the friction.

“Women don’t start wars. They finish them,” I whispered before promptly standing up and, in a swift motion, yanking the socks he had on off and walking to the exit.

“Y/N!” I could hear his shout from the couch from where I knew he was with a full hard-on, unable to move just yet.

“This granny is going to bed!” I shouted, speed-walking to my room in case he decided to run after me.

“You little-!” the shout still seemed far behind me, and I quickly shut my bedroom door and locked it.

Thankfully, I think I left him incapacitated for a second, and he didn’t follow me immediately.

I actually didn’t hear from him for the rest of the night. I hoped I didn’t upset him, but also, the whole reason I had done what I had was because he had become a little ass about my favorite hobby. I don’t mind the jokes, but after a while, you want a pat on the back for learning something new. Especially from someone you care about.

I went ahead and did my normal nighttime routine and got into bed before I started to read a book. I must have dozed off while reading because I woke up to the lights out, my book on the end table, and Dean crawling into the other side of the bed.

Before I could say anything, his arms came around my waist, and he pulled me to his core. He was in his boxers and one of his soft t-shirts I made him wear to bed.

For the record, I was perfectly fine with him in no shirt (or pants, for that matter), but when he did wear a shirt, I made him put on a certain kind cause his band and certain graphic tee ones were itchy on me when we cuddled.

He took a deep sigh and nuzzled his face into the crevice between my neck and shoulder, one of his favorite places.

“Why’d you lock your door?” he asked, already knowing I had woken up.

He had definitely picked the lock.

“I thought you were going to hunt me down, and I forgot to unlock it,” I replied sleepily.

There was silence for a minute, and eventually, he spoke up, whispering in my ear his apology.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” I sighed with a winning grin he couldn't see, knowing why but playing coy anyway.

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you how much I appreciate your brain,” he answered.

That was not what I expected, but I was intrigued.

“Hmmm,” I smiled, moving my hands to his that were wrapped around my ribs and nuzzling my backside closer to him. “Don’t stop now; you’re on a roll.”

He laughed and invited my attempt to fit into him like a puzzle piece.

“You’re ambitious with everything you want to learn to do, and I don’t tell you enough how much of a turn-on that is,” he hummed, rubbing his head into mine and peppering a kiss on my neck here and there. “And I know you know how much I love the skills you gain, but sometimes I’m bad about just saying how impressive you are to me.”

“You like my crocheting skills, Winchester,” I chuckled, turning my body to face him now and throwing one of my legs over his hips, pulling back in some. “Just say it.”

“I love your crocheting skills,” he replied with a wide grin and brought a hand up to move the stray hairs that fell on my face. “I love your baking and cooking. I love your impressive TV show-binging skills. I love the random facts you have stored in that beautiful brain of yours. I love your surprisingly nerdy side of Marvel and superheroes. I love your attempt at being a gardener.”

“Hey, I have three plants that are thriving right now!” I argued, poking a finger in his chest, which he grabbed and kissed the tip of.

“I love everything you’re passionate about,” he finished off. “I don’t tell you enough, and sometimes I like to see that face you give me when I tease you.” I gave him a look. “Maybe more than sometimes… But! I do love all those things and more about you, Y/N.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I replied, scooting in closer. “But it is nice to hear it from those captivating lips of yours.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

We started smiling at each other, and I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about earlier.

“I’m sorry I teased you,” I sighed, moving to where I was embedded in his chest, and he wrapped himself back around me.

“Don’t be. I deserved it,” he replied, chin on my head before he bent down and kissed the top of it. “I will say, though, I’ve never been mad about seeing that side of you.”

“What side?” I looked up at him.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing,” he chuckled, pulling my head back to him.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I agreed after a minute. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“You’re my favorite person. You know that, right?”

“Feelings are very much mutual,” he answered, caressing a hand up and down my back.

“Good. I’d have to kill you with one of my knitting needles if you said otherwise. Who said needleworking wasn’t dangerous, right?”

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk @drakelover78 @caruhleener

Supernatural Tags:

@flamencodiva @hobby27 @sucker-for-dean @deans-baby-momma @squirrelgirl67 @death-unbecomes-you @snffbeebee @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @spnbaby-67 @akshi8278 @musiclovinchic93 @vicmc624 @carryon-doctor-lock @perpetualabsurdity @herscrunchiehairtie @spnwoman @shamelesslydean @monkeymcpoopoo @winchestergirl82 @luciathewinchestergirl @deansyahtzee @thatgirl1456 @sucker-for-dean @atomicloverdonkeyperson @screechingartisancashbailiff @akshi8278 @supernatural3002

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader drabble #dean winchester drabble #justkending #spn fanfic #dean winchester spn #dean winchester x you #spn dean winchester #drabble #spn drabble

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ist4rgirlo · 1 year ago

Text

─ 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 - 𝐜.𝐟 : 𝐈𝐕

Summary: Now that your life has turned upside down, are you still willing to put your siblings' feelings first? Or would you rather fight for your feelings and do what makes you happy regardless of the consequences that might result in the future?

Prev ; Next || Conrad Fisher x fem!reader || My blog

Warnings: S2 SPOILERS! fluff, swearing, yelling (lmk if i missed anything!)

SEQUEL TO BEFORE EVERYTHING HAPPENED

───────────────────────────

Y/n’s Pov

"God why is it so hot!" Taylor complained -- holding her hair up, fanning herself with her hands. "Well, Aunt Julia said that the AC is broken" Belly said walking in the kitchen.

"What? No fucking way!" Steven groaned. Aunt Julia walked inside the kitchen "Alright, today's open house is cancelled. I need you all out of the house before the AC guy gets here." Aunt Julia said — we all looked at each other, smiling.

"Great, let's go to the beach! We could go surf and all of that" Jeremiah suggested, I looked at him and nodded. "You guys should go.” Conrad said patting me. I looked up at him “What? what about you?” I asked him.

“I'm not leaving the house" Conrad said, shaking his head no. "Oh come one Conrad!” Jeremiah pushed, "I mean we can go to the mall, they have good ac" Taylor suggested - still using her hands to fan herself.

Conrad still shook his head no "Cool, have fun. But I didn't ditch finals just to leave this house-" — "Conrad, I am trying to keep my shit together" Aunt Julia said cutting Conrad off, placing the papers down on the table "You already ruined my day and I would at least appreciate it that you guys get out of my hair for a few hours." Aunt Julia continued — she was pissed.

Conrad was about to say something else but I grabbed his shoulder gently, calming him down not wanting him to say anything that'll ruin everyone's mood "You know, we can go to the boardwalk" Belly said, I looked at her and nodded. I looked back up at Conrad nodding at him. Everyone agreed.

I watched Skye sit down infront of Aunt Julia "Hey you should come with us, Skye" I suggested looking at them — smiling. "Oh uhm sounds very state fair plus I should just stay here with my mom.. right?" they said - turning to Aunt Julia for confirmation. Aunt Julia shook her head no.

"It wasn't my favorite but you should go" Aunt Julia smiled gently. Skye nodded "I guess I'm coming with you guys" they said with a smile — standing up, walking towards us.

"Great! let's go?" I asked all of them, they all agreed and started to walk towards the door. I felt an arm around my shoulder, "Thank you, Y/N" Conrad said, I looked up at him and nodded "Of course, Connie" I said putting an arm around his waist before walking towards the door.

TIME SKIP

We were now here at boardwalk, we all decided to buy some ice cream first just to cool off.

"I promise you'll have fun, Skye" I heard Belly say to Skye — trying to convince them somehow. Jeremiah scoffed "Fun? The last time we went here you were crying" he said teasing Belly.

"Hey I remember that! Susannah had to throw your clothes away after" I said, pointing at Belly — chuckling at her. "Hey! you were crying too" Conrad said, poking my arm. I shook my head no “Nuh uh! I wasn’t!” pushing him a little.

"You know, Susannah used to force my mom to go here when they were kids. My mom hated it but Susannah loved it" Skye said. Conrad looked at her before saying “You know what my mom also loves?" he paused "The beach house"

I went beside him and grabbed his shoulder gently "Connie" I whispered. "My mom's not evil, Conrad" Skye paused "And your mom wasn't a saint" Skye continued — raising her brows before going back to eating their ice cream. We all stopped walking, looking at Skye.

I sighed, "Skye, have you ever played shoot your shot?" Belly asked Skye, breaking the tension. "No, I think I'll keep it that way" Skye said, looking down — shaking their head.

"Omg you need to see us beat Conrad's ass" I chuckled — shrugging my shoulders, looking at Conrad who was already furrowing his brows at me. "You can never do that" Conrad said smirking. I squinted my eyes at him, "Oh really?" I teased more, “Yes” he hummed — looking at me before eating his ice cream.

"Oh come on you guys, not another great boardwalk showdown" Steven complained — poking my side. I pushed his hand away, slapping it “Stop!”

“So basically they have this thing where whenever they go here they would try to beat each other in shoot your shot” Taylor said. “Yeah every year, not until they got so competitive that my mom banned them from playing” Steven said chuckling — Conrad chuckled too, agreeing with Steven. “So is everyone in?” I asked — looking around. All of them agreed except for Skye.

“Uhm.. I should probably head out” Skye said, their voice quiet, “No you should stay” Conrad paused clearing his throat “It’s fun” I nodded at Skye. “You’re in our team now” I said, patting Skye — smiling.

“Okay, just so you know, I dont do high fives or trash talking” Skye infromed us — Belly nodded “Deal” Skye nodded back before asking “So what’s the prize?”

“Well the loser has to buy the winner the biggest bag of candy” Jeremiah said “Candy? can’t we have something that is a little more sexier?” Taylor suggested — shrugging her shoulder.

“You know, we can talk about the prizes later” I said raising my shoulders — looking at everyone. Conrad clapped “Alright! Let’s go?” he said before walking towards me putting an arm around my shoulder — I nodded and started to walk towards the arcade.

TIME SKIP

We played a variety of games, such as 'Shoot your shot', 'Go kart', 'Rock Climbing', 'Basketball' and even went to see Cam Cameron, who was with us the entire time. When the competition ended, our team lost. So it was either me or Belly who must ride the Tower of Terror as a punishment.

"Okay, you guys should do rock, paper, and scissors!” Steven suggested — clapping his hands, liking the scene of both of his sisters not liking the thought of riding the Tower of Terror. I looked at Belly — pressing my lips together. Her face filled with fear.

I clapped my hands “You know what! As the older sister, I’ll do it for you” I said winking at Belly before walking towards her — patting her shoulder. I walked towards the gate of the ride, I felt someone grab my shoulder “You know, you don’t need to do it alone right?” It was Conrad, smiling down at me. I looked up at him, confused.

“Come on, Y/N?” he said guiding me. He was going to ride it with me, “Let’s go!” they all yelled — clapping. We went in and got buckled in, I took a deep breathe. I felt Conrad’s hand against mine, I looked at our hands before looking at him. “You’re going to be alright, I’m here” he said — smiling gently before locking his hands with mine.

He was always there for me. When we were kids, he was always there for me, making sure that I did not feel left out. He was always by my side, including me whenever they played games. That's how he was, he never left me alone.

We just held hands the entire time - looking at each other smiling. Afterwards, we went down and high fived with everyone else and decided that it was time to head home.

───────────────────────────

Conrad’s Pov

We we’re now on our way home, I was in Steven’s car. The girls were in Jeremiah’s car. “You know, today was fun” Steven said, smiling. I nodded, agreeing with him “It was fun” I smiled.

Steven shrugged his shoulder, still smiling “I dont know, I haven’t seen you that happy for such a long time”

“Well it did feel good feeling like a little kid again” I paused “And that’s what mom probably wanted, was us to be happy again” I continued. “But today was good” I said nodding — smiling at Steven.

“Okay but I just couldn’t help but notice something between you and Y/N” Steven said — I looked at him confused. “What?” I asked. He went and slapped my shoulder gently “Oh come on! Let’s forget about the Belly thing, she’s my sister too but you know I just noticed that there was a vibe between you and Y/N” He smiled at me, raising his brows teasingly.

My smile couldn't be contained - it was good that it was somehow dark. “What?” Steven chuckled “Just an observation” he said. “Well..” I laughed “I appreciate it” I nodded before looking away from him — still smiling.

TIME SKIP

We were now here infront of the beach house, as we all started to walk towards the door, we heard Jeremiah yell “What the fuck!” so I immediately went and ran inside. I looked and my heart dropped, the house was empty.

There was nothing left, no furniture, no plants, no paintings. All the things that reminded us of mom were gone. We stood there trying to take everything in. Our world has been shattered. I felt someone hug me from behind, it was Y/N, crying, making my heart break even harder.

The worst part of today was returning home to this, everything gone. It broke me, it broke all of us - to see our house, my mom's house, empty. It was like pushing the truth that Mom is really gone.

───────────────────────────

taglist : @maybankslover @urmomisafinewoman @user3729107491 @melllinaa @anthgoldenhrry @arunabrak @amj2277 @whoisalexa @remuslupinwifee @gulphulp @layanderson @astrvalee @goldenmoonbeam @podiumprincess @johannelis2302nely @silcintilla @smw-96 @apollo3475 @drikawinchester @fangirl-kimora @sanjanapm @milyswrld @scysuxx @starkeylover @fallingforel @mysticalstarlightflower @ifilwtmfc @allnrsnz @yeosxxx @elvishoe69 @be4tric3s @users09 @mirrorwalls1989 @sunflowers1610 @rubes26

hope u guys like this one !! i’m still sick but i feel much better than yesterday :))

love lots !!

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bluebeary-jay · 1 year ago

Text

scattered thoughts / sharp focus

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel is taken away from you and upon finding him almost-dead... something in you snaps ((kinda part 2 to clouded judgment / clear mind, but you don't necessarily need to read that one))

Tags: ANGST, angst with happy ending, near death experiences, Joel has surprisingly little screen time but you'll see he was there in spirit

Warnings: REALLY graphic descriptions of violence, small panic attacks, KINDA torture(?) 😳, choking, lemme know if i missed something

Word count: 7.5K

A/N: i can't believe i've finally finished it! i aimed for a worthy successor to cj/cm aaand i hope i managed but jeez was it hard. also i told myself i won't be writing sth like that again but i kinda have an idea for the final part (would be hurt/comfort 🤭) so let me know if it's sth you'd like to read. anyway as always happy reading!! 💕🥰 comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, i absolutely love seeing what you think of my fics!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You swallowed your tears and rested the chin on your hands, trying to push back the wave of panic threatening to drown you.

“Tell me again.”

Tommy sighed, his own eyes empty and worried.

“I don’t know who those guys were, but they obviously knew Joel. There was a dark man leadin’ them, and I think he had somethin’ wrong with his lip, but it was too far for me to take a good look. The group consisted of five, maybe six people? And I shot one of them, but he appeared to still be alive when they were leavin’.”

You were silent for a couple of seconds, trying to make sense of it all.

“And where did they take him?”

“I reckon to the old ski resort on the top of the mountain. We ventured pretty far from here to investigate these tracks.”

You nodded and steeled yourself, taking a deep, trembling breath and quickly drying your tears.

“Okay. I’m going.”

“You’re not.” Maria leaned over the table, her expression unyielding. “The decision is final.”

“I am going,” you repeated fiercely, slamming the flat of your hand against the tabletop, but Tommy gave you a stern look, which made you bite your tongue. “Look, I get that you don’t want to lose even more people in a rescue mission–”

“This is not what it’s about,” Maria retorted, almost looking hurt by your words. “Believe me, if I wasn’t carrying another human being inside me, I’d already be going after them. But you have to take other things into consideration.”

“She’s right,” Tommy spoke up quietly, though equally irritably, and you turned sharply to look at him in disbelief. “The route to the resort is very advantageous to fall into an ambush. They could shoot us off like ducks and we’d have nowhere to hide.”

“I don’t care,” you ground out, looking from one to the other. “We can’t leave Joel. He’s your family, for goddamn–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” shouted Tommy abruptly, bringing his hand down onto the table, too. “He’s my fucking brother and was family way before you were even born!”

“Tommy.” Maria kicked him under the table, keeping one hand on her belly. Her husband flared his nostrils, clearly agitated by your words, but you were too angry yourself to care right now. You two glared at each other for some time before Tommy clenched his fists and turned around.

“M’goin’ to get some air,” he said gloomily over his shoulder, already at the door leading outside. Maria sighed and looked at you again.

“Please. Don’t do anything stupid, and I swear I’ll send a group out as soon as this blizzard ends.”

“He can be long dead by then,” you answered gravely, really set off by Tommy’s reaction and his words. You tried to will your tear ducts to hold any signs of stress and worry, not wanting to show your friend how broken and helpless you felt inside. “If it was me, he’d already be halfway there to save me, Maria.”

“I know. But just think about it. If something happens to you…” She shook her head. “How do you think I’d be able to look Joel in the eyes and explain why… how…”

She genuinely seemed at a loss of words, and you sighed, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“I understand where you’re coming from, I really do. But I need to get him home, Maria. I have to.”

With that, you stood up, feeling like you were going to suffocate if you stayed in the room any longer. You didn’t look back even when you heard Maria calling your name softly.

There wasn’t any sense in discussing the matter with any of them – you made up your mind to go and save Joel and there was no way anyone would make you stay. He wouldn’t hesitate to go and get you if anyone dared to lay a hand on you.

You remembered that one time when he killed a group of men who wanted to use you as a bargaining chip to gain entry to Jackson. And how afterward you told him you’d do the same for him, unable to bear the painful and guilty expression on his face.

Now you planned on doing just that.

You were scared – of course you were, you weren’t stupid – and the nerves were practically eating you alive, gnawing at your bones and hurting your muscles from the inside out.

But the worst was the fear of never seeing Joel again. Of something happening to him. And you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t at least try…

“I’m coming with you.”

Your head snapped to the side. There stood Ellie – dressed in a warm jacket and a hat that didn’t cover her ears. Her eyes were full of fire, and you recognized the anger and determination in her expression as the same which were almost suffocating you.

Of course she was eavesdropping on the conversation. It was Joel that it was about, after all, her dad in all but one sense.

And suddenly you understood what Maria meant by not being able to look Joel in the eyes if something happened to you.

“No,” you said curtly, walking past her and out onto the street in the direction of your house.

“I’m not asking for permission.” Ellie was right behind you, and the force of her steps showed just how angry and frustrated she was – just like you felt. “I know you’re gonna go after those guys, and I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not,” you repeated more sternly, not turning around to face her. You reached your house and fumbled to open the door. “You’re staying and that’s fina–”

You stopped yourself and sighed, pressing your forehead against the wooden surface.

It was unfair. You were unfair. If those exact words spoken by Maria have set you off so much, you wouldn’t be surprised if Ellie…

“You’re not my fucking mom, remember?” the girl barked angrily, and you let out a shuddering breath, stressed to your limits with everything that happened in the last few hours. “You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do just because you’re older!”

It’s okay. It’s gonna be fine. Everything is gonna be okay.

“I know,” you whispered after a couple of seconds of silence, still not turning around. “I’m sorry.”

Ellie didn’t answer. You repeated your quiet mantra and glanced over your shoulder at her. “But Ellie, I… I can’t let you go. Joel would never forgive me if something happened to you.”

Jesus. Exactly like Maria.

Ellie still looked pissed at your earlier words, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well, you’re not the only one who cares about him, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re the one he cares about the most.”

Ellie opened her mouth. Closed it and furrowed her eyebrows, but the irritation in her eyes dimmed. You gave her a small, apologetic smile, trying not to burst into tears.

“He’s gonna be fine, you know,” you lied smoothly, opening the door. “And Maria said she’ll send a group to retrieve him as soon as the storm eases up a bit.”

You didn’t even need to look to know that she didn’t believe you. To be honest, you wouldn’t believe yourself either in this situation.

You waited several seconds to see if the girl wanted to say something else, but after a few moments she spun on her heel and went back, not saying anything. You stared after her, but when the thick snow made her figure just a fuzzy shape, you gently closed the door and pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes.

It’s going to be fine. You’ll get Joel back and all will be okay.

You took a couple of deep – albeit shaky – breaths to pull yourself together, and when you were pretty sure you weren’t about to start crying, you made your way into the kitchen. And stopped short.

At your table sat Tommy, fiddling with his thumbs.

“Fuck, Tommy,” you mumbled, trying to calm down your pounding heart. “You scared the crap out of me.”

The younger Miller looked up, but stayed silent. You looked at each other for a few tense moments, but ultimately you sighed and left him in the kitchen, going to your room to get a backpack and another, more fitting, set of clothes.

He was still there when you returned to the kitchen with your stuff, but you didn’t even pretend you weren’t preparing to head out. The man watched silently as you put the backpack down by the door, went to retrieve and reload your gun, and gathered some essentials on the table, not once glancing in his direction.

You were persistent in ignoring Tommy’s presence, but then he finally spoke up.

“We can go before dawn. I’ll get the horses ready and we will take the fourth gate.”

You froze and stopped what you were doing, then turned around and placed your hand on your hip.

“We can’t take horses up there. Not in this weather.”

“We’ll leave them at the fifteenth checkmark. That place in the East where there are so many swallows durin’ spring.”

You nodded, and your gaze softened when you looked him over. Tommy was just as worried about Joel as you were, you knew it. He was just better at hiding it.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you murmured, feeling terrible that in such a short amount of time, it was a second person you were apologizing to. “But you know I have to go after him. You know that.”

“Fuck,” he swore quietly, sighing. “Yeah, I know. There’s no way I ain’t goin’ either. Just… I just hate doing somethin’ behind Maria’s back.”

You didn’t answer – because what could you say? That he didn’t have to go with you? As much as you wanted to save Joel, pretending not to care about the dangers or anyone’s opinion, you knew you’d probably die if you went alone. But it didn’t mean you were going to ignore all that Tommy was risking by coming along with you.

“You don’t have to, Tommy,” you whispered. “You have your wife to think about, after all. And your–”

“I know,” he interrupted glumly. “Don’t worry. All of us will come back.”

You nodded. You really hoped he was right.

*****

At first, everything was going according to plan.

At least, until Ellie decided to show up.

She surprised both you and Tommy a couple of miles outside of Jackson, probably thinking that it was far enough that you won’t try to send her away.

You tried anyway. You were understandably furious, not only because she didn’t listen to you, but also that she trailed after you both for so long in this weather. Her reveal caused a short screaming match and a couple of nervous tears shed by you, but eventually you and Tommy decided it’d be more dangerous to make Ellie go back to Jackson alone. So she continued with you to the house where you left your horses, then past it and in the direction of the ski resort.

You didn’t know how many people were at the resort, and there were only the two of you – well, three, counting Ellie, but no matter her stubbornness, you weren’t going to let her go in – and an attack was too risky in this situation.

So you decided to sneak in. To distract and draw the kidnappers’ attention long enough for you to get Joel out. It was still stupidly risky, but it wasn’t like there were much more options that wouldn’t end in those guys killing all of you. The plan was that Tommy would find a vantage point and be on guard to take down any threats with his sniper rifle if you were noticed, while you go get Joel.

Ellie… Ellie didn’t take no for an answer. And as much as you hated that she tagged along on this dangerous rescue mission, you had to admit that she came prepared. Apparently some time ago Joel taught her how to make trap mines and she pitched the idea of planting some up the mountain to create an avalanche.

Well, you and Tommy were both very much against setting off a full-blown avalanche, but it wasn’t a bad idea per se. So it was agreed that Tommy will help her set the bombs in some strategic places while you wait for a signal to go in.

The sneaking in part was surprisingly easy. The people staying there didn’t leave any guards outside, probably because they didn’t expect that someone would actually look for them in this weather, and it seemed that there weren’t that many of them inside like you feared. You had a vague idea where Joel might be, based on the positioning of the people present, so you reckoned it’ll be the wisest to wait nearby.

It took about an hour of hiding in one of the empty rooms (you had to change your hiding spot once, because someone decided to randomly sweep the perimeter) before you heard distant explosions and panicked, angry yells, and then a rumble of the mountain. You suspected a fair amount of snow was falling down the slope, and you prayed that Ellie and Tommy were in a safe place when that happened.

You heard the sound of footsteps getting further away. Then more of it. It was eerily silent, and you counted to ten in your head, before slowly exiting your hiding spot.

Just as you suspected, Joel was held in the lobby, tied to one of the decorative columns, and even though his back was to you, you’d recognize him anywhere, even by hands or the back of his head alone. A quick glance around the room confirmed that there was no one around, but still you preferred to stay on guard. You silently tip-toed to where he was sitting on the floor, mindful of all the debris scattered on the floor and keeping your head low, and breathed a sigh of relief when you finally reached him.

“Don’t move,” you whispered, barely moving your lips. Your fingers touched his wrist and he budged slightly. You angled your face closer to the left side of his head, hoping he’ll hear you better this way. “It’s me, Joel. I’m gonna get these off you, okay?”

Not waiting for the reply, you took out your knife and started to cut the thick, coarse rope binding Joel’s wrists. You winced at the burns underneath, but you managed not to cut him, which was a feat with how tight the ropes were. He was very still, probably not wanting to handicap you.

“Okay,” you whispered when the last of the thick strands were cut through, and you carefully slid the remnants of the rope from his wrists. “Now follow me, Tommy is…”

Your voice died down when Joel’s arms loosely slumped down, along with his head, and a second later his torso started tilting to the side before heavily hitting the ground.

Your heart stopped in your chest.

“No.” The whispered word escaped you when you hurried around him, now not caring about staying hidden. “No, no, no, please…”

You rolled Joel onto his back and only now saw the damage done to him – his nose broken, face covered in blood, a gash under his left ear, and a still bleeding gunshot wound in his arm. He didn’t look dead, didn’t have that lifeless emptiness around him, but his eyes were closed and his chest was still. You put your ear to his mouth, desperate to feel his breath on your skin, but…

No, it can’t be, it can’t…

You couldn’t feel anything.

“Joel,” you said quietly, taking his face between your hands, but tears were blurring your vision. “Come on, please open your eyes.” A choked sob broke out of your throat and you shook your head when he still didn’t even as much as stir. “Love, please…”

That’s when your eyes landed on a small, glass vial lying discarded some feet away. You looked from it to Joel, tears clouding your vision, and scrambled forward to check it out.

As you suspected, the syringe – because that’s what it turned out to be – had the traces of a thick, translucent liquid in it left. There wasn’t any writing on it, but the glass was clean, unlike various other bottles and wrappings scattered throughout the facility. You stared at it for a couple of seconds, then fixed your gaze on Joel again.

Just as the sound of footsteps started to echo down the hall.

You froze and strained your ears to make sure you didn’t imagine it, then took a look around the room. The doors were slightly ajar, but whoever was coming here, they couldn’t see you just yet. Panic seized your insides and you turned to Joel again.

“Sweetheart, please wake up,” you whispered pleadingly, shaking his shoulders and slapping his cheek lightly. “Come on, look at me, open your eyes…"

The steps were getting louder by the second. You tore the glove off your hand with your teeth and tried to very quickly check Joel’s pulse, but either in your panic you couldn’t find it, or the heartbeat was too slow for you to pick up.

You didn’t consider any other option.

There wasn’t much time left, so finally you left him and quietly went to hide behind the door, waiting for the incomer to walk in. Your hand reached for the gun on your belt.

And paused.

There couldn’t be any other option… right? Joel was alive, you just failed to find his pulse. He…

He was lying, still in the place you left him, and you couldn’t see his chest moving. The blood was flowing from the wound in his arm, staining his jacket and the floor… Your hand, the one holding the pistol, was covered in it, too…

Then you did something you never expected of yourself.

The gun stayed in its holster, and you went to grab from the ground one of the heavier pieces of debris you noticed before, a long metal pipe. Your hands tightened on the metal, and your eyes stayed on Joel’s lifeless form. You took a stifled, nervous breath. Then a deep, steadying one.

The person in the hall was really close now. Joel still didn’t appear to be moving or breathing, and it made your own chest feel tight and painful.

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

But if they did this, if… if he won’t ever open his beautiful brown eyes again, say your name in that entricing raspy drawl…

The doors to your right opened and your face twisted in rage and resentment. Your muscles tensed and focus sharpened.

The man who walked through the door made a noise of surprise at the sight of Joel lying on the floor – and that inhaling sound, that maddening noise seemed to taunt you, because how dared he breathe when Joel’s own breath was stolen from him, when you weren’t sure if it was still there – right before you stepped forward and swung the pipe with all your might.

The man – dark skin, with short hair – fell down with a loud cry when the harsh metal hit him right in the temple. Your eyes scanned his figure for a weapon, and you hit him again, this time somewhere near his stomach, when he made a move to reach for his knife.

“What did you give him?!” you asked with malice and venom that were so alien to you, you almost didn’t recognize your voice. The man’s eyes focused on you for the first time when you kicked his blade away, and his confusion turned to anger.

“Crazy bitch!” he spat, heaving for air, and lunged at you, but the open wound in his skull must’ve slowed him down, because without any problem you managed to raise your makeshift weapon before he could grab you.

Since you met him so many years ago, you always had Joel to watch your back. Now you were alone, but somehow that thought didn’t scare you. It exhilarated you.

An unpleasant, hair-rising crack echoed in the room, followed by the stranger’s scream, when the heavy metal smashed the bones in the forearm.

“I asked… a simple, fucking, question!” you snarled at the man, bringing the pipe down again, aiming for his hand this time. He moved it away at the last second, which enraged you even more, so with a mad, frustrated scream, you smashed his knee, using the pipe’s momentum when it bounced off the floor. “What the fuck did you do to him?!!”

He screamed, loudly and terribly, cursing at you with every shaky breath he took, and–

You felt so unlike you, so… out of your skin, somehow… but you wanted to make him suffer. You wanted to know this inhuman cry of pain that was reverberating through the walls of the resort was your doing and your power over this bastard. Because of what they did to Joel.

Then a loud bang rang out in the air, and you instinctively ducked your head when a part of the door to your side was shot off. You dropped the pipe – no use for it now – and drew your gun, noticing with surprise that your heart was steady and your breath even, as if you didn’t almost get shot just now.

Another bullet was sent in your direction, and a woman’s voice yelled something inaudible, while you stood still and counted the seconds.

Three, two…

In a rapid movement, you came out of cover and aimed at the person standing in the hall, firing twice. The first bullet hit the woman in the arm while the second seemed to burrow itself in her stomach. She fell backwards with a curt cry, and the man lying at your feet roared with rage.

“No! You fucking bitch, leave her alone!!”

Your motions were almost automatic as you put your gun away and picked up the metal pipe again, its end splattered with blood. The man in front of you had to see something in your eyes – despair? emptiness? hatred? – because his face fell and he started quietly begging for you to stop and let him go. At least that’s what you assumed he was saying, because you didn’t listen to him one bit.

“Do not…” you started, unexpectedly calmly, bringing the end of the blunt weapon down. The impact caused his shinbone to break, and you lingered for just a moment to hear the bitter cracks of the shattered bones, “fucking… go anywhere. Don’t you dare move, hear me?”

The man didn’t answer, just cursed and wept in pain. The sound was horrible, but you almost didn’t notice it – or more accurately, didn’t care. Which would be even more concerning if you weren’t aware of the woman lying injured in the hall behind the door, and Joel, still unmoving and cold to the touch on the other side of the room.

Slowly, not hearing the black man’s cries or distant gunshots from where Tommy probably was taking down the enemies, and not caring about the blood of a stranger covering your jacket and pants, you dropped the pipe and took out your gun again. Then you made your way down the corridor, your eyes locked on the woman who shot at you.

She was groaning in pain, clutching at her stomach. When she noticed you, her hand reached for the pistol which lay discarded next to her, but you quickly lifted your own and aimed at her before she touched it.

“Don’t move,” you murmured, which would sound almost soft if it weren’t for the empty look in your eyes. The woman scanned you up and down, and slowly lifted her hands.

“Who are you?”

“What did you give him?” you asked like you didn’t hear her, coming closer to kick away her gun to the far end of the hall. The woman’s eyes followed the weapon, then shifted to you.

“Do you even know what that man did? What is he guilty of?”

“I know. Now answer the damn question. What did you give–”

The door on your left slammed open and you only had time to turn your head before a heavy body collided with you, pushing you to the wall. Your head hit the bricks with an echoing crack, knocking the breath out of you. A man who surprised you grabbed the material of your jacket and slammed you into the wall again, but you managed to grab his hair and yank it hard, which allowed you to step to the side and away from the point of disadvantage that being trapped against the wall was.

The man – taller than you, with a black eye and without one of the front teeth – was quick to recover, however, and catched the wrist of your hand that held the gun, pushing it to the side when you pulled the trigger. From the corner of your eye you could see the woman you shot curling up and covering her head, then trying to scamper away, but the wound in her stomach was a significant impediment.

You fired again, trying to wrestle the gun from the man, but his grip was strong and after a few seconds of struggle he managed to knock the weapon out of your grasp, sending it flying to where you kicked off the woman’s one earlier.

Not sooner than your hands were empty, his elbow collided with your face, hard, and you cried when a gush of blood started pouring from the broken nose and a cut on your lip. Fear washed over you, and sheer luck caused you to duck to the side in time, avoiding a fist to the temple.

You stumbled backwards a few unstable steps, breathing heavily. The guy was smirking, acting like he already won – but you weren’t about to die in this sleazy, stinky place, leaving Ellie all alone and never knowing why they abducted Joel in the first place.

Joel…

“You’ve made a huge mistake,” said the man quietly, taking one, then two steps forward and swinging again. You backed away a second time, feeling your heart pounding in panic and knowing you didn’t stand a chance against a man of his stature.

Finally your luck ran out, and the man managed to hit you in the jaw, making you taste blood on your tongue. Before you could recover, one of his hands shot forward and grabbed you by the throat, and then, still keeping his big hand on your neck, he brought your entire torso down, slamming you to the ground. You hit your head hard and the glass shards on the floor embedded themselves in your skin, but in the next moment the sound of your painful scream was cut short. The grip the man had on your throat tightened, and you started to have difficulty breathing.

Your eyes budged in fear as realization of what was happening dawned on you, and you started to kick and struggle wildly, reaching for your attacker’s face, but he moved out of reach, still putting his whole weight down on you.

Your fists were hitting his forearms, your nails scratching his cheeks, whatever to make him let go. But he didn’t, his hands still squeezing your throat so strongly and crushing your esophagus.

“After I kill you, I’ll go kill your friend,” your attacker snickered, smiling viciously as he watched ice-cold panic enveloping you. “He’s not worthy of keeping him alive that long, anyway.”

Something ignited inside you at his words.

Joel.

You suddenly remembered the many self-defense lessons Joel had given you, so that whenever he wasn’t there to protect you, you could do it yourself. He was always so afraid for your life…

Slowly and with great effort, your fingers crept down, searching for the handle of your hunting knife, while dark spots started to appear before your vision, partially covering the sneering face of the man crushing your windpipe. He said something else – something you didn’t even hear because of the ringing in your ears…

And then with the last bit of your strength, you yanked the knife out of its sheath and buried the blade in the side of his neck.

Several things happened simultaneously: the man cried in surprise and let you go, the woman shouted a warning – too late – and you swung your leg over him, straddling and stabbing the man over and over again. His neck, his chest, his face, you didn’t even see what you were hitting. Screaming your lungs out and burying the blade in him again, and again, and again.

And again.

With an outraged, desperate cry, the woman lunged at you, but the adrenaline coursing through your system made you not even register something cutting deeply the skin of your arm, your veins and muscles giving way. You spun around, tumbling with her to the ground, but quickly managed to pin her down, blocking her arms in place with your knees, and pressing the tip of your knife to her chest.

She immediately stopped moving.

“Last fucking chance,” you croaked with difficulty, your neck bruised and swollen. “What… did you give him?”

You didn’t know if it was the sight of you, bloodied and wounded, the fact that you just violently killed her friend, or something else entirely – but now the woman looked scared.

“Okay,” she whispered, trying not to breathe too deeply, and glanced nervously at the blade pressed against her skin. “Okay, I’ll tell you, just don’t… It was a tranquilizer. Nothing dangerous, we just put him to sleep for a couple of hours. He was putting up quite a fight and the guys were getting antsy that he’ll pull something off before–”

“He’s not breathing,” you rasped viciously, sputtering blood onto her face. The woman flinched and took a shaky breath.

“His heart rate is slowed down, but it doesn’t– it shouldn’t kill him.”

You clenched your teeth, then exhaled. Inhaled.

You have to take a grip of yourself. He is alive. He has to be…

Should be.

The weight with which you had pinned her to the ground became lighter, and the woman sighed with relief when you removed the sharp end from her chest.

“It shouldn’t… kill him?” you repeated emptily, trying to dismiss the pain in your throat when you were speaking.

“No.”

Your head was still buzzing, but you tried to push it to the side, to focus on what was important right now.

“Why… did you take him?”

And just with that one, quiet question, the woman’s expression changed. You were considering letting her go, since you already hurt her pretty badly, but the sudden shift in her behavior set off alarm bells in your head once more.

“He’s a murderer,” the woman said, as if it was the most obvious answer. “A monster that would do everyone a favor if he got put down.”

White, blinding fury flooded your veins and it felt almost as if electricity was cracking above your skin. Your hand held the knife tighter.

‘Put down’, like… like an animal. She was talking about the man you loved–

You weren’t able to stop the hatred and rage flowing out of every pore of your skin. In one swift motion you plunged the knife into the woman’s chest, making her choke and gasp in surprise.

“You cannot call him that,” you spluttered, barely able to speak from the pain. “You…”

And then your hand forced its way lower down, still holding the handle of your weapon. Cutting through the woman’s – now struggling and screaming in agony – abdomen and guts.

They went so far as to abduct Joel, they took him from you, hurt and shot him, wanted to torture him, to make him suffer before they ultimately kill him…

But they didn’t, he can’t be dead, he can’t–

The woman was conscious the entire time as you were ripping her insides apart, and her screams died down only after you reached the navel.

Your vision was blurry and faltering when you stood up, but your heart was still beating steadily. There was an echo of a scream in your ears, though you couldn’t tell if it was your or the dead woman’s voice.

There wasn’t anyone else in the hallway. In the back of your mind you hoped that Tommy took care of any remaining enemies, because if they’d come running here, you didn’t think you’d be able to hear them in time.

Clutching your injured arm, you slowly made your way to the room where you left Joel and the man who attacked you first. Your gun was lying near the entrance and you picked it up before pushing the door open and staggering inside.

The man wasn’t where you left him. Instead there was a big pool of blood, forming into a wide, smeared path leading further into the lobby. At the end of it you saw him, groaning and crawling to the exit.

You reloaded the gun and walked closer. At the sound, the man turned his head and his eyes widened when he saw you.

“You fucking psycho!” he spat, bracing himself on the elbow of his left arm – the only one still working. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! When she sees it, they’ll come for you, and they’ll make sure that the two of you will fucking pay for it!”

His words were flowing through you as you struggled to keep your vision focused. You felt weird – almost like waking up way too early and finding your body not listening to you entirely.

Then you realized. The hungry, burning anger was gone, the embers of hatred slowly dying out. There was only smoke and emptiness left inside you.

“I don’t care,” you mumbled, not loud enough for the man to hear you, but that didn’t matter – two seconds later he was dead, his brain splattered all over the floor behind him.

Your hand was shaking. Cold crept up your limbs, embracing and almost choking you as you breathed in, out, faster and faster as you finally comprehended what you did.

Your eyes moved down to the man’s indented knee, completely smashed into a bloody mess. The other limb was all wrong, his foot sticking in the opposite direction and no wonder he had to crawl to get away from you, you destroyed his legs, you…

You staggered backwards, your pupils darting to the hallway just for a second before returning to the battered corpse in front of you. The back of his skull was gone now, but how did he stay conscious for so long after you smashed his head with a metal pipe? There was so much blood on it… How much pain he must have felt after you left him?

And that woman… He begged you to leave her alone, and you… you ripped her open…

You moved back, back and further away, before tripping and falling to the floor. Your breaths were fast and shallow, and you reached for your neck, sore and swollen from almost being strangled, trying to will your lungs to work.

They were bad people. They took and hurt Joel, and planned to kill him. You had to kill them, they’d kill you in a heartbeat, they…

It wasn’t like you’ve never taken a life before, but it was the first time that you inflicted pain on somebody on purpose – not in self-defense, but because you wanted to retaliate. It was done in revenge.

You didn’t know for how long you had sat there when you heard someone saying your name. It sounded like… No, it couldn’t have been his voice, he was unconscious, he wasn’t breathing…

Suddenly, Tommy’s face appeared in your blurry field of vision – of course it was him, their voices were so similar, after all – and there was a deep crease between his brows. He looked worried and fearful, and–

“Snap out of it,” he said firmly, shaking your shoulders harder than he should have. Your name fell from his lips when you didn’t answer, and his eyes followed yours to a battered body on the floor. “Look at me. Look at me.” Tommy forcefully turned your chin in his direction, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. “You did what you had to do.”

You shook your head, swallowing the tears that streamed down your face. He didn’t know what you did. He didn’t understand what happened here, what happened with you… You yourself didn’t know what happened to you.

Tommy brought you closer to his chest, enveloping you in his strong embrace and the smell of leather and gunpowder. You choked on air, unable to stop the sobs racking your body, and deaf to his words, for the only thing you could hear were cracks of bones, screams of pain, and your own vengeful cries.

It was so loud in your mind that you almost missed a quiet grunt coming from behind you.

*****

Joel slowly opened his eye, then groaned and closed it again. He felt like shit and it was so hard to breathe, but he pushed through the pain and discomfort from the wound in his side, and tried again.

The first thing he saw was the greenish curtain, hiding the rest of the room from him, but judging by the fact that he was lying in bed, alive, with apparently all his wounds dressed, he figured it wasn’t the same place that group of angry youngsters took him to.

Lifting his head and turning it to the other side was a tremendous task, but it was so worth it – because there was you. Sitting in a chair next to him, asleep and with your head lying on folded arms on his bed. Joel smiled softly, but then furrowed his brows as a pang of anxiety shot right through him.

Your face was a mess, with cuts and bruises healing, your brow was split, and one of your forearms had a bandage wrapped around it, now a little dirty around the edges. Joel couldn’t see clearly, but your neck seemed… dark, as if the skin was bruised there, too.

What the hell happened?

He lifted his arm – the tingles and needles pierced his stiff limb – and brushed your cheek lightly, trying to wake you.

“Darlin’...” he murmured, and you stirred. He tried to say it again, louder this time, but his throat was scratchy and he winced at the feeling. There was no need for it, however, because in the next moment your eyes fluttered open and then widened when you took in the sight of him, realizing he’s awake.

“Joel!” Your hands – God, he missed the feeling of them – cupped his face gently, and your eyes filled with tears in the matter of seconds. “Oh my god, baby…”

“Hey, hey, I’m fine,” he breathed out quickly, not wanting to see you cry. “It’s okay, darlin’... I’m here.”

You sobbed with a dazzling smile, your beautiful eyes dancing across his features before you darted forward and pressed your lips to his firmly. Joel could almost taste the desperation and worry in your shaky breaths and tears that fell from your eyes and onto his tongue. He wanted to tangle his fingers in your hair and bring you in closer, but a sudden, sharp pain pierced his arm when he tried to move it, and he hissed into your mouth.

“Sorry,” you whispered and moved away quickly, letting out a broken laugh and brushing the unruly strands of hair away from his forehead. “I’m just so happy you’re okay.”

Joel wanted to ask what exactly had happened while he was out, but before he got a chance, you leaned in again and started softly peppering his face in kisses – first his cheek, then his forehead, then the tip of his nose and his chin. And Joel didn’t have the heart to stop you.

And that’s how Ellie found you both. She gagged when she saw the display of affection, but there was a grin on her face when he looked over at her.

“Gross,” she scrunched her nose. “But I’m glad to see you awake.”

“Yeah, well, I still feel pretty shitty,” he grunted, scanning the kid for any injuries, but she didn’t look any worse for the wear. His eyes strayed to your neck again, and the concern came back double-barreled. “What happened to you, sweetheart? Where–”

“I’ll… go get the doctor.” You stood up abruptly before he could finish, and looked over at Ellie. “Will you stay with him?”

“Yeah. Sure.” The teen shrugged, but now was avoiding Joel’s eyes, and he felt more uneasy and agitated by the second.

“Okay. Be right back, love. Gonna grab you some water, too.” You squeezed his hand and smiled. Joel’s eyes escorted you, and when he made sure you were out of the earshot, he turned to Ellie.

“What happened?”

“Well.” The teen blew out her cheeks and went to take a seat you previously occupied. “You were attacked during the patrol…”

“Yeah, no, that I remember,” Joel interrupted quietly. “They shot me, took me to that ski resort. But how am I here? Did she…”

He trailed off. Ellie looked at the curtain you disappeared behind, then back at Joel. “Listen, I wasn’t there, so m’not sure,” she mumbled quietly. “But after she and Tommy got you out, she was sorta… different.”

“Different how?” he asked sharply. Ellie bit the inside of her cheek, looking away. “Ellie.”

“I don’t know, okay?” she answered in a sudden burst. “She looked like hell. You saw her neck, I think someone tried to choke her, and she had an ugly cut on her leg, a fuckton of cuts and bruises… And the doctor spent hours getting all the glass shards out of her.”

Joel got up as much as he could, feeling a pit of anxiety rising in his chest. Ellie was silent for a while before she spoke again, this time surprisingly softly.

“Remember when you beat the shit out of that soldier when we were escaping QZ in Boston?” Joel nodded slightly – she did, too. “Yeah. She had a similar… kind of look on her face, and it looked… not exactly scary, but alien.” The teen looked up. “My guess is she did some fucked up shit to get to you. Tommy said she’s been having real bad nightmares since then, but he doesn’t want to tell me–”

Ellie snapped her mouth shut at the sound of footsteps, and a few seconds later you emerged from behind the curtain. You had a tall glass of water in your hand and a small, hopeful smile that grew when your eyes fell on Joel’s face.

“I know you’d probably prefer something stronger, but water will do you good,” you said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were just talking about you. Joel watched as you carefully sat down at the edge of his bed and put down the glass onto the table to his side. “One of the nurses will come here in a couple of minutes. You were unconscious for a couple of days so they want to make sure everything is okay.”

“I told you I’m fine, darlin’...”

“Please.” You gently took his hand in both of yours, staring at him with concern. “For me?”

Joel looked you over, his eyes lingering on your bruised neck and the bandage around your thigh which he didn’t notice before. Then he glanced at Ellie with worry, not knowing how to approach this problem or ask what exactly happened to you.

Your eyes were a little red and puffy, and he briefly thought about what the kid said: that you have had terrible nightmares, that apparently you went through some sort of hell to save him. It seemed that whatever you had done, it took its heavy toll on you. And he couldn’t bear it.

Joel hated the thought of you risking your life for him, of the experience branding you so deeply that you lost sleep because of it.

Because of him.

The only thing he could do right now was to be there for you. And maybe – just maybe, if he tried hard enough – to do something about those of your scars that he couldn’t see.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time.

“Okay,” came his soft answer, to which you smiled with relief. “Whatever you wish, darlin’.”

No snarky remark, no groaning or muttering could be heard from Ellie, and that worried Joel much more than he’d ever admit. He exchanged a worried look with her while you were distracted, drawing patterns on the back of his hand with tender fingers.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he heard you say quietly, though it was unclear whether you were talking to him or yourself.

Either way, Joel squeezed your hand tighter, now feeling oddly afraid of letting go.

“Yes, darlin’,” he confirmed in a soothing manner. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller angst #joel tlou #tlou hbo #btw i tried to do some research on tranquilizers and anesthesia drugs but i didn't find anything clear so. everything you read is made up #i could have wrote it better but.. eh #it was challenging enough and i can't believe i've spent almost a month on it

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year ago

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All These Years [Part 12: "Considering the Offer"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 3.5k

a/n: Another painful installment that is about to bring us to what I consider to be the worst angst of this whole series next. This one certainly hurts, though. Feedback is always appreciated--and so are theories about what happens next even if my lips are sealed!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks

“Look at us!” Foggy exclaimed, raising his beer bottle high up in the air, clearly still wound up from the win in court earlier today as his eyes scanned over everyone around the table. “All of us together again tonight! How often does that happen?”

“Well, not all of us,” Karen pointed out, nudging you beside her with her elbow. “We are missing Adam tonight.”

Foggy held up a hand, shooting you an apologetic smile as he shook his head. Internally you cringed, your heart aching at the mention of Adam, but you bit your tongue and kept your mouth shut. You weren’t about to correct anyone, not tonight. Especially when you weren’t prepared to come up with a partial truth as to why he actually wasn't here, because you needed some reason that would make it past Matt’s human lie detector abilities that you always kept in mind if you were to tell them the truth. And currently you weren’t in the mood to think of one.

“You’re right, Karen, I’m sorry. We aren’t all fully together tonight,” Foggy amended. “We are, unfortunately, one person short this evening.”

“Though you did manage to wrangle me back to Josie’s,” Marci said, her arm still wrapped around Foggy’s waist. “And how you managed that again remains a mystery.”

Marci’s eyes dropped down to her glass, openly studying it with distaste. She’d often made it clear she wasn’t a fan of coming out to Josie’s, preferring that you would all someday make your ritual hangout place at a nicer bar.

“At least this time I wasn’t the one who was unavailable,” Erica said, her slender arm casually draped over Matt’s shoulder.

Inevitably her voice drew your gaze all the way across the table. Her attention was focused on Matt, a smile crossing her pretty face. A sharp pang of jealousy struck you like a white hot fire in your veins when you saw Matt turn his focus on the beautiful dark blonde sitting beside him, a large smile forming on his own lips underneath his glasses as he leaned in towards her.

“You’re right, for once I got you out of the office and all to myself,” he playfully teased. “Which certainly doesn’t happen often enough.”

He leaned in to place a lingering kiss on her cheek and your eyes quickly dropped down to your beer before you, your fingers running along the condensation of the bottle. You did your best to try to ignore the sound of Erica’s giggle and the feel of your erratically beating heart at what was happening across the table. Pressing your lips firmly together, you fought hard to keep them from visibly trembling. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Karen was looking at you, but you tried your best to ignore that, too.

It had been a little over four months now since you’d learned Matt wasn’t dead, having found out when you’d seen him sitting and having a drink with your friends at Father Lantom’s wake. It was only a couple of months after that when Marci–who’d begun dating Foggy recently–had introduced Matt to one of the lawyers at her firm. Erica Kaminski. And he’d quickly grown fond of her real fast.

You'd met her a few weeks after you'd heard Matt first talking about her. She was apparently an impressive defense attorney herself, one who was incredibly busy and very focused and passionate about her work. She was sweet, too. Nice. Which made it absolutely impossible to hate her despite how beautiful, confident, charismatic, and successful she was. She was practically Matt's perfect match, even if she wasn't necessarily as crazy about taking on pro bono cases like he was.

They looked perfect together, too, with his dark hair, handsome face, and the strong build not very well hidden underneath his suits next to her lithe and leggy form and her model-like face and perfect hair. They looked like some sort of power couple and it physically pained you to see them together whenever you did. Especially whenever you saw Matt leaning over to give her sweet kisses to the cheek or the forehead–even worse when you had to witness a passionate kiss on the lips. Every single time it always felt like your heart was further withering inside of your chest, gradually shriveling up into a goddamn raisin.

She didn’t know about Matt’s alter ego, though. Nor did she know about his heightened senses. And Matt had made it very clear that none of you were to say anything about it to her. You’d understood why at first, but as the weeks wore on and Matt seemed further smitten with this woman, you’d started to wonder how things were going to continue on if he didn’t tell her the truth. How could he have a relationship with someone if they didn’t really know who he was? How could he know she really wanted to be with him– all of him–if she didn’t know there was more that he wasn’t telling her? You’d kept your mouth shut about it, but you’d always bitterly thought he was making the wrong decision by planning to keep her in the dark. Not that you felt she needed to know everything after only two and a half months, but with the way these two seemed to be going–at least with how Matt talked about her–you had a feeling she’d be reaching a point where she deserved to know the truth. And Matt deserved to be with someone who loved that other side of him, too.

Though admittedly, you felt like Matt was far more into Erica than she was into him. Not necessarily in a bad way on her part, but you often got the she’s-very-married-to-her-career sort of vibe from her. She was often unavailable to make plans with Matt, usually too focused on something with work. Sometimes work would even call her away when she’d been out–even if she was on a date with Matt. Whereas Matt had latched onto Erica like he’d had back at Columbia when he’d met Elektra. It almost seemed like some level of an unhealthy co-dependency he’d formed with her that you couldn’t quite make sense of, though of course you would never ask him about it. You figured it had something to do with whatever had happened to him after Midland, but he always seemed so happy with her that you’d tried to ignore it.

But as you spotted them kissing across the table out of your peripheral, you felt like you were about to be sick. As if she noticed exactly what was going on, Karen leaned over towards you.

“Want to grab another drink with me?” she asked.

You nodded, lips still firmly pressed together as you instantly pushed your chair back. Sliding off of it, you maneuvered around Foggy and Marci before making a straight line for the bar counter, your eyes locked on Josie pouring out a beer behind it.

“Something’s going on with you,” Karen pointed out as she fell in step beside you. “It’s written all over your face.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered.

Karen snorted, shaking her head. “Okay, I may not be Matt, but even I know that’s a lie,” she shot back.

You sighed as the pair of you reached the counter, leaning forward to rest your elbows up onto it. Turning, you glanced at Karen’s inquisitive and concerned face beside you. One of her brows rose onto her forehead in a silent question. Your eyes slowly slid back to the table your friends were at, a frown slipping onto your face as you spotted Foggy and Matt both focused on their girlfriends. Really, though, the nauseous feeling in your stomach was due to the intense focus Matt had on Erica and the hand he had on her knee as he was talking to her. Biting your tongue, your focus returned to Karen.

“Are we still grabbing brunch tomorrow?” you asked her.

She nodded quickly. “Yeah, I was planning on it,” she answered. “Why?”

“I’ll tell you everything then,” you told her, your focus shifting on Josie as she made her way towards the pair of you. “When it’s just us.”

The waitress placed the plate of eggs benedict in front of you and you thanked her softly as she did. The food looked good–as it always did here–but admittedly your stomach was churning a little at the conversation you knew you were about to continue. Eyes glancing back up, you saw Karen across the booth from you still staring at you unblinkingly, her mind clearly still on the conversation that had been interrupted just now. When the waitress placed Karen’s food in front of her, Karen muttered a ‘thank you’ quickly, but her gaze never left you.

“Is there anything else I can get for you two?” the chipper waitress asked, her focus darting between you and Karen.

“I think we’re good,” you answered, shooting her a tense smile. “Thank you.”

She nodded before turning and heading off to a nearby table. Karen immediately leaned forward across the table towards you, her blue eyes intense as she ignored the steaming plate now between where her elbows rested on the table.

“Okay, let’s back up and go back to where we were,” she said. “You were offered a new position?”

“Yeah,” you said, picking up your mimosa. You felt like one was not going to be enough for this conversation. “My boss has loved my initiative ever since…well, you know.”

Karen’s face fell immediately, a frown pulling at her lips. “I’m sorry about that,” she apologized, her eyes softening from the piercing stare she’d had for the past few minutes. “I really am, we shouldn’t have–”

You waved a hand, cutting her off as you clutched your mimosa tighter in the other. “Hey, it’s over, right? What’s done is done. None of you can take it back and you and Foggy have apologized like a thousand times already. And Matt probably ten times as much,” you muttered, drawing the glass to your mouth for a drink. Swallowing the cold liquid down, you added, “It is what it is at this point. I know why you all did it, but that doesn’t make it hurt less when I think about it.”

Across the table, Karen sat back in the booth. A look of guilt had taken residence on her face and you felt bad, but you weren’t about to console her for what had happened. Because admittedly that image of the three of them in Nelson’s jovially chatting when you walked in still plagued your mind some nights. As did the image of Matt and Erica kissing.

“But yes, my company has been doing well this past year and they’ve been focused on expanding,” you continued, bringing the conversation back around. “My boss has been loving my dedication to my work and the things I’ve been producing for the company, so he wanted to offer me the new position opening up first.”

“What’s it include?” she asked carefully.

“A massive pay increase,” you told her. “Like...almost double my salary now.”

Karen’s eyes grew wide across the table, her jaw dropping. “Are you fucking serious?” she breathed out. “You already make a good living–and they would almost double that?”

You nodded, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Karen’s eyes immediately caught the movement and they instantly narrowed at you.

“What else does it include?” she asked.

“Well, like I said,” you continued a little nervously, “my company is expanding. Outside of New York City.”

You saw the moment realization dawned and her face fell across from you, her shoulders dropping at the information. “How far outside of New York City?” she asked.

Biting your lip, your focus dropped down to your plate of untouched food. Nervously your fingers fidgeted with the fork on the table. Karen was the first of your friend group you were telling all of this to.

“Los Angeles,” you told her.

You winced at the sharp intake of breath across the table, your eyes slowly making their way back up to her face. One of her hands had flown up, covering up half the look of shock now present there. Your stomach felt like it dropped to the floor, your appetite quickly leaving you.

“So you’re leaving?” she whispered.

You shrugged a shoulder lightly in response. “I mean, I haven’t accepted anything,” you replied. “They offered me the position two weeks ago. They aren’t exactly in a rush right now for an answer because they’re still getting the new office together out there. But they really want me for this position. I’m pretty sure my boss is prepared to beg.”

“That’s–that’s incredible,” Karen said, a sad smile on her face as her hand fell back to her lap. “Really, that’s amazing.”

“Thanks,” you muttered.

“So–so what’re you thinking, then?” she asked. “I imagine you’ve been thinking about it for a bit now.”

“I–I’m considering it,” you confessed, heart hammering in your chest as you did. “Really considering it, actually. That’s a lot of money. I’ve never been that far west, either.”

“What about Adam?” Karen immediately asked. “What’s he say about all of this?”

Taking a deep breath, you sat back in the booth now, entirely ignoring your plate of food. Exhaling roughly, you prepared to drop another bomb on Karen.

“We broke up,” you told her.

“ What ?” she asked in disbelief. “Why? When? You two were doing amazing, what happened?”

Your eyes dropped down to your lap. Nervously you were wringing your hands together, your chest feeling tight.

“Almost two weeks ago,” you answered. “Shortly after I got the offer. I was thinking about it for a few days, mulling it over, you know? And I knew I needed to tell him about it because it’s not like I could just make a big decision like that on my own. But he–he really didn’t want to leave New York. His family is here and he loves where he works.” You paused, your eyes still unable to meet Karen’s. “He asked me to stay here with him. Wanted me to move in. Talked about…wanting more with me.”

Karen once again sucked in an audible breath across the table. Your fingers only fidgeted faster in your lap at the sound.

“He wanted to marry you?” Karen asked.

Swallowing hard, you nodded. The far too familiar sting of tears were in your eyes again and you fought to blink them back.

“I liked Adam a lot,” you admitted, your focus finally returning to Karen. “I really did. He’s an amazing man, really. And I–I tried to love him.” You sniffled, trying to fight down the emotion you felt rising inside of you. “I really, really tried with him. For a long time in the beginning when I was with him, I didn’t think about Matt. And it was nice. But then Matt he–he met Erica a couple of months ago and hearing him talk about her, seeing them together–”

You broke off, your eyes closing as a few tears fell down your cheeks. Shaking your head, you tried to continue.

“It made me realize I still love Matt,” you admitted. “After all of this time, no matter what I do or what he does, I can’t seem to stop loving him. And I’d been feeling that for a couple of months now but I just–just kept trying to push it down. But when I was offered this position and I needed to talk to Adam and he wanted those things with me…I realized it wasn’t him. He’s not the one I wanted those things with.”

Karen said your name softly, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“And then I–I remembered what you said,” you continued, a few more tears running down your cheeks as you spoke. “Last year. About moving away and I–” the words felt like they were getting stuck in your throat as you tried to force them out, “–I think you were onto something. Because I can’t live like this, Karen.”

A few tears fell down her own cheeks as she listened to you, one of her hands darting up to wipe them away. Shaking your head roughly, you continued on.

“I can’t stay here being in love with someone who will never love me back,” you told her. “I can’t continue to watch him with Erica anymore. Every time they kiss I feel like my heart is being torn to shreds. I just can’t do it anymore. And seeing him with her made me realize that if–if he were to propose to someone, I think it would kill me. So I…think I need to leave before that happens.”

Across the table, Karen inhaled a shaky breath. A few more tears slipped out of her eyes and you watched as she tried to blink them back, her focus shifting to the window beside the two of you.

“It sounds like you’re already decided then,” Karen said softly.

Pressing your lips together, you nodded. “I think so,” you admitted. “My heart is begging me not to go, I can feel it, but my head is telling me to get out. It’s been years of this pining and it’s–it’s keeping me from really being happy, you know? It’s not right to be this in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same way. And this incredible opportunity just fell into my lap and I–I think I should take it.”

“Does Foggy know?” she asked, her attention returning to you. “Judging by how happy he was last night, I’m guessing he doesn’t.”

You shook your head slowly. “No,” you told her. “So far I’ve only told you. I knew you’d be upset but…I know Foggy is going to have a hard time with this.”

Karen huffed out a humorless laugh, nodding as she wiped away a few tears on her cheeks. “Yeah, he’s definitely not going to handle this news too well,” she agreed.

“I might not tell him quite yet,” you admitted with a wince. “So if you could just keep this between us for now, I’d appreciate it.”

Instantly her eyes narrowed back at you. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat under her piercing gaze.

“I plan to tell him when I’ve gotten things more finalized,” you assured her. “You know, once I’ve accepted the offer officially and am actually looking at apartments out there. There’s no need to upset Foggy too soon in case something falls through. I just…don’t want to say something unless I know it’s for sure happening. But I needed to talk to someone about it.”

Karen’s expression softened as she offered you another sad smile, nodding as she did. “I understand,” she said. “So I’m guessing you’re going to tell Matt at the same time as Foggy then?” she asked.

Heart twisting in your chest at her question, you felt that all too familiar hollow ache gnawing at you. You honestly didn’t know how you were going to tell Matt this news, let alone actually say goodbye to him. It wasn’t something you wanted to think about because it hurt too much.

“Probably not at the same time, no,” you whispered, eyes dropping down to your still untouched plate of food. “He's been so happy lately with Erica. Happier than I've seen him in awhile. I don’t want to ruin that for him. And I don’t–don’t know how I’m going to tell him, either. He deserves to know at some point but I–I don’t even know how I’ll have the strength to tell him I’m leaving. To actually say goodbye to him.”

The tears were welling up again in your eyes and you fought hard to blink them back down. The thought of permanently saying goodbye to Matt felt like a small death in itself. Like you’d be leaving your heart in New York and dragging a shell of yourself across the country to L.A.

But what other choice did you have? Did you really want to stay here and watch him fall in love with Erica? And if it wasn’t her, surely it would be someone else. Could you really just sit there and watch it happen? Watch him tell some other woman that wasn’t you that he loved her? Hear that he’d gotten engaged? Attend his goddamn wedding and be forced to watch him join his life to someone else's forever in front of your very eyes?

You knew the answer was no. You could never do that. What you’d said to Karen was the truth–watching Matt marry someone else would absolutely kill you. With how long you’d spent wanting him– loving him–there was no way you could watch him make a life with someone else. No way that you could pretend he was only your best friend.

Leaving New York was the only option left that you hadn’t tried yet.

“I’ll tell him eventually,” you promised, both to Karen and yourself, “but not yet. I–I can’t talk to Matt about this just yet.”

[END NOTES]

I'm sharing end notes again on this series because I feel like y'all need it. Especially because I literally wrote this one up really fast today and hope everything came across!

So Matt is dating Erica and seems quite into her. And Reader has once again ended things with Adam despite how good things were going with him because she's still in love with Matt. All it took was her seeing him so crazy about someone else for her to realize she still has feelings for him. But that little seed of thought Karen planted awhile back never truly went away and now Reader is being offered an amazing new position in L.A. in the coming months that she's planning to accept. Which means bye bye Hell's Kitchen, hello California. And in turn, bye bye Matty.

So what happens next? Because Matt is about to learn VERY soon who Reader has really been in love with...but will she stay or will she go?

The next installment is titled "Breaking the News" and I do have a title for the one following, but I think I'll hold onto that until y'all get the next installment. Because I want to keep you guessing where this is going. I'm cruel like that 🙃

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock series #matt murdock

417 notes · View notes

skz317cb97 · 2 years ago

Text

The Beat

Jisung x Female reader

Word count: 2.5k (no look they're really drabbles okay?)

Synopsis: Jisung is having difficulties with a project and asks you to help take his mind off work for a bit.

A/N: 18+ ONLY! Okay seriously I'm on a roll right now but like I said they might not all come out so quickly so do bare with me if some of the others take longer. I am having so much fun writing these so I hope you all are enjoying them! Chan will be next! If you enjoy reading please reblog, comment, shoot me an ask, like, I love to hear from you guys! As always warnings and smut below the cut! 3/8

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! MDNI! Swearing/strong language, eluding to casual sex, oral (m receiving), deep throating, face fucking, cum eating, breath play (kinda not really), masturbating, cum shot, slight exhibitionism (kinda maybe, not really), slight MC dom/Jisung sub dynamic (kinda). I think that's all but if I ever miss something please let me know and I'll add it immediately!

It was the last morning before the guys were due back and you were on your knees under the kitchen table after you decided you’d rather blow Changbin than eat eggs and toast. You were sucking his soul out through his dick, choking and drooling all over his thick cock rubbing his balls and humming as you gagged on it again and again. Suddenly the front door opened and someone came walking into the apartment. Changbin had heard but apparently you didn’t because you were slurping and gagging on his fat cock when Jisung came around the corner into the dining room.

“Hey Changbinnie hyung!” Changbin’s eyes went wide with surprise.

“JISUNG! You’re home early!” You choked when Changbin shouted Jisung’s name and stopped sucking his dick for a second. But Jisung couldn’t see you or what was happening under that table and so you took Changbin’s cock back into your mouth and what you couldn’t fit you jerked off hard as you continued to fondle his balls covered in your saliva. You honestly didn’t know how he was holding it together, must be that strong jutdae of his.

“Yea I wanted to come home a little early and get some rest before having to jump back into the grind.” Changbin bit his bottom lip and nodded, small beads of sweat were starting to form on his temples and forehead and he prayed Jisung didn’t notice.

“Good idea Ji! Why don’t you go get you some rest!” Jisung looked at Changbin funny.

“Yea, okay Bin I’ll do that.” Jisung shook his head and went to his room. As soon as Changbin heard his bedroom door click closed he groaned out and came in your mouth. You swallowed and kept slurping on him until he was sensitive and pulled away.

“Remember this little moment the next time, pay back is a bitch.” Changbin laughed breathless, pulling you up from under the table.

“For now though we should probably get you home.” Changbin kissed you deeply.

“Go get dressed I’ll give you a ride.” He patted your rear end and you ran off to get your clothes on.

A month or so went by and everything was still just the way it always was. You and the guys had your board game nights every other Monday and had been to the club to go dancing and drinking. You had fucked two of them and at least one of them knew and they both acted like nothing happened. Aside from a lingering touch here and there when passing you or sitting by you everything was perfectly normal. It was a nice day and you were walking to the park down the street from your place when you got a call from Jisung.

“Hey Ji!” You heard him sigh heavily.

“Hey y/n.” He sounded drained.

“What’s wrong Sungie?” He took another deep breath.

“I’ve been at the studio all night and I’m just so stressed over this song that I’m having trouble with. Do you...you think maybe you could come to the studio and help me?” You were confused as to why Jisung was asking you to do this when Chan or Changbin would be far better options since they actually knew how to produce music.

“Ji I don’t know anything about music.”

“I know I just mean come and hang out, maybe distract me for a bit, clear my head.” Well that made more sense, he needed to unplug for a minute. You were only going to go on a hike at the park because you were bored anyway.

“Sure Sungie I’ll come hang out for a bit.” You could already hear his voice getting lighter.

“You’re the best y/n. See you soon!” When you got to the studio the door was slightly cracked open. You knocked lightly and walked in. When you did you saw Jisung with his head laid on his desk; it looked as if he’d fallen asleep while waiting on you. You were just going to back out and let him rest but you bumped something by the door and Jisung’s head sprung up.

“Oh hey! You made it great!” He rubbed his eyes.

“If you want to nap a little longer, I can come back later.” He shook his head and stood up walking over to welcome you in.

“No no I was only resting my eyes. Please come in.” He closed and locked the studio door behind you and ushered you towards the sofa in the studio. You sat down getting comfy and Jisung sat in the roll-y chair across from you. You both exchanged some small talk and caught up with what the other had been doing recently. Everyone had been so busy lately it felt like it had been forever since you’d see any of the guys when reality it had only been two weeks. The longer you sat there chatting with Jisung the more antsy he seemed to get, knee bouncing, eyes darting, if he chewed on his lip anymore he’d bite it off so finally you said something.

“Sungie you’re supposed to be relaxing and clearing your mind a bit. You look like you're ready to crawl out of your skin. What’s going on?” His teeth let go of his lip and he let out a heavy sigh.

“I... I really want to ask you something but I don’t want you to get upset with me or take it the wrong way.” His face was so soft and his big brown eyes seemed to have grown even bigger. You could tell he was genuinely scared you would be angry with him. You sat up and leaned forward a bit closing some of the distance between you and Jisung.

“Well... I promise to listen and try to understand if that helps at all.” Jisung nodded and shook his head.

“Okay... whewww... okay...” You braced yourself unsure of exactly what was going to come out of Jisung’s mouth. Jisung closed his eyes tightly.

“WouldyoudowhatyoudidforChangbinniehyungformetoo?!” It all came out in a shouted jumble of words. You jumped at the volume of his voice and caught fragments of words but not enough to understand him. You shook your head.

“Take a deep breath Sungie and slow down okay?” He took a couple more deep breaths and then closed his eyes again, softly this time.

“Would you do what you did for Changbin hyung for me too?” Your brow furrowed in confusion and then the memory of you blowing Changbin under the table when Jisung came home flashed through your mind. You tried to play stupid.

“Uh what do you mean? What did I do for Changbin?” Jisung’s face was buried in both of his hands embarrassed to say.

“Well... you... know... you... uh... sucked his... d-”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?!” Jisung jumped and looked terrified that he had in fact upset you. You were just caught off guard finding out he knew; you coughed and lowered your voice.

“How do you know that?” Jisung wrung his hands together.

“Changbinnie hyung said you were going to be over for the weekend. When I came home I saw your shoes by the door and then... well I saw your feet poking out from under the table a bit, that and Changbin hyung looked like he was about to explode.” Your face felt hot. You were so embarrassed to find out that Jisung knew the whole time that you had been under the table. Then it registered and you remembered Jisung’s actual question.

“Wait did you ask me...” Jisung waved you off in a panic.

“Never mind about that, sorry! I shouldn’t have suggested it! You’re my friend and I respect you and I shouldn’t have...” You couldn’t help but be endeared by his babbling.

“Sungie do you want me to suck you off or not?” His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open.

“Words Jisungie. Do you want me to suck your cock?” He gulped hard shaking his head up and down.

“Yes!” You tsked him.

“Yes what Ji?”

“YES PLEASE!” You hummed pleased and smiled at him.

“Good boy.” You got on your knees in front of him and ran your hands up his firm thighs towards the waist band of his pants. He looked down at you with his wide hopeful eyes. You could see his pants already starting to tent from his growing erection. You slowly unbuttoned his pants, dragging the zipper down one tooth at a time, a little whine came out of the back of Jisung’s throat and you looked up at him.

“Aww poor Sungie, you need it bad don’t you baby?” Jisung licked his lips and nodded.

“Please?” You smiled at him sweetly

“You asked so nicely how could I say no?” You grabbed the waist band of Jisung’s pants and underwear and pulled both down to his ankles. His cock was hard and leaking, smooth and pretty and while not as big as Changbin’s he was not lacking.

“Such a pretty cock Jisungie.” You praised him.

“Really?” He sounded surprised by your compliment.

“Oh yes Ji, pretty cock for a pretty boy.” His cheeks started turning red and you thought it was so cute. You had always thought Jisung was cute, his chubby cheeks and toothy smile. You licked your hand and wrapped your fingers around his cock. You started to stroke him slowly, your thumb rubbing the tip of his cock before twisting your wrist and sliding down his shaft again.

“Ffuck!” Jisung’s cock started leaking even more precum.

“You’re not going to cum already are you Sungie?” You leaned forward and licked the precum off the head of his dick and he twitched in your hand hard.

“N-nno I w-won’t please suck on it please!” The way he begged for your mouth made your body buzz with excitement and you could feel your arousal wetting your panties. You nodded and started gently sucking on the head of Jisung’s cock, slowly going further down his shaft, coating him in your saliva. Jisung gathered all your hair into a ponytail and looked down at you with your mouth full of his dick. When he hit the back of your throat and you gagged you pulled off and started jerking him off, looking up at him, your hair still held back by his hand.

“You’re such a gentleman Jisungie, holding my hair back for me while a choke on your cock.” You hummed and took him back into your mouth bobbing your head up and down sucking, drooling, and swirling your tongue around him.

“It’s s-so good y/n feels... Oh FUCK!” Jisung was glad the studio was soundproof because he moaned out uncontrollably when you gagged on his dick again and continued to suck him off. The grip he had on your hair tightened a bit as you repeatedly took his cock to the back of your throat, squelching, spitting, and gagging on it with pleasure before pulling off and stroking him again, harder than before.

“You’re being so good for me Sungie. Stand up.” He did as you said although on shaky legs since you were still firmly jerking him off. He looked down at you and thought he’d died and gone to heaven. You were kneeling in front of him, blushing, your chin covered in spit and precum giving him those sparkling doe eyes.

“Okay Jisungie, fuck my face.”

“Excuse me what...” You giggled a little, seeing you all messy and sweet then hearing that come from your mouth short circuited something in Jisung’s brain for a moment. You repeated.

“I said choke me with your pretty cock, make me deep throat you, hold me down on your dick until I’m gasping for air, face fuck me Ji, be good and I'll let you cum wherever you want.

Jisung twitched uncontrollably in your hand and he got a little sparkle in his eye.

“A-anywhere?” He asked unbelieving and you nodded, kissing the tip of his dick softly again and again.

“That’s right baby. Now, fuck. My. Face.” You took Jisung’s cock into your mouth again and started a good rhythm then Jisung started to gently thrust into your mouth testing the waters. When you hummed in pleasure he went a little harder. Your hands came up and grabbed his ass pushing him deeper into your throat still. Jisung got the hint and started fucking your throat harder and faster. The sound of your spit and gagging, you moaning around his cock, it all made Jisung feel so lightheaded. Jisung’s grip shifted and one of his hands cradled the back of your head as the other supported your jaw. Once he had his hold adjusted he really started jamming his dick into your throat. He pulled you off and tilted your head up to look at you. You were panting, a little sweaty, covered in spit and blushing. He shoved you back onto his cock, pinched your nose closed and pushed the back of your head down until your nose was buried into the soft spot above his cock. He made several shallow thrusts, drool dripped down his cock and balls as your throat constricted over and over again around the tip of his dick while you were struggled to breathe. Jisung looked down and realized you had one of your hands down your own pants riding and fucking yourself on your fingers as Jisung choked you with his cock. He pulled you off again and spit trailed from your fucked out face to the tip of his swollen red cock. You smirked up at him.

“Where do you want to cum Jisungie? Hmm?” You started stroking him with your free hand, your other still teasing and rubbing your clit. He bit his lip and whispered embarrassed.

“uhon your f...” You spit on his cock and started stroking him faster and harder.

“Sorry Sungie I can’t hear you baby. Where do you want to come?” You sucked on the tip of his dick as you continued to stroke him fast and hard, your warm wet tongue teasing. You stopped playing with your pussy and started gently playing with his balls.

“ON YOUR FACE! GOD PLEASE LET ME CUM ALL OVER YOUR PRETTY FUCKING FACE!” You spit on Jisung’s cock again and stroked him as fast as you could, two fingers from the hand playing with his balls followed a wet trail down until you were softly fingering his perineum. You aimed his dick at your face.

“Do it Ji paint my face with your cum baby.” The strangled moan that came from Jisung as he came almost made you climax untouched. A thick stripe of cum shot across your lips and nose, another across your cheek and one eye, another across your nose and forehead, more across your other eye, it pooled in your puckered lips as more stripes of his cum shot across your face. Your hand had crept back down into your pants again and you rubbed your throbbing wet cunt as you started to lick at the cum dripping down your face. Jisung helped wipe you off and once your face was clean again you stood and slumped back on the couch your legs spread wide.

“Look Sungie, you made such a mess.” Your hands trailed into your pants again and you played with your pussy. Jisung crawled on the floor on all fours and his face hovered over your warm cunt while you continued to tease and finger yourself.

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @hyunelixies @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh @channieandhisgoonsquad @minnysproutgriffinteddy

“Come now Jisungie, clean up the mess you made baby.”

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

#stray kids smut #skz smut #han jisung smut #jisung smut #skz317cb97 #cal 🖤#skz smut drabble series

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emberfrostlovesloki · 5 months ago

Text

The Crucible [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@roting) Center (@dudeitiskarev) Right (@moodboard-d)

Prompt: Aaron finds himself alone with a homegrown terrorist group whose leader he put away a year ago. He gets beaten, shot, and dumped in the woods where the reader finds him and attempts to keep him alive long enough for the paramedics to get to him.

Pairing: Aaron x Non-BAU!reader, gender-neutral!reader. The reader uses they/them pronouns

Category: angst/hurt/comfort [happy ending]

Word Count: 14.9K

Content Warnings: Food is mentioned, alcohol is consumed, there is a hate group [the bad guys], severe beating [glass broken on a body, unwanted touch, forced drinking, punching, hitting, groping (Aaron)], shooting [Aaron], death by gunshot [a bad guy], gore, mention of past abuse [Aaron], arguing, near death, hospitals, deep concern and coping mechanisms, language. If I missed any, please let me know.

A/N: Hi all! It has been a while, but I am back now thanks to the end of the semester. I hope you are all doing very well! As always, I return with a novel of a Hotch story. I’ve had this idea for months now, and I am happy with how it turned out. I do want to encourage you to read the Content Warnings as this is angsty (though it has a happy ending). If you like this concept and would like to see a part two, let me know. I have many fluffy ideas for Aaron too, and those are coming, pinky promise. I am so happy to be writing again and hope to do a lot of it during the summer. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

P.S. Special shoutout to @criminalskies for sharing emergency medicine with me for this fic! If I got things wrong, I'm sorry pookie.

List with all stories

y/n = your name

_c/t_ = coffee or tea

y/l/n = your last name

y/a = your age

Aaron drove down the lonely highway. He’d passed briefly through Shenandoah National Park. The peacefulness of the trees had calmed his mind for the hour that he was in the park, but as he got back onto the main road, the conversation that was bothering him started to edge its way back into his consciousness. Hotch wanted to close his eyes and potentially scream, but he settled for rubbing his hand angrily over his brow and then his eye bags that seemed to get heavier each day.

Sean had reached out last week saying that he was going to be in New York meeting someone and had asked if his older brother had wanted to get a drink and catch up. To Hotch, this was last-minute planning according to him and his packed schedule. But he’d managed to drag himself out of bed and on the road on Saturday morning. When he got into the city, he and Sean met up at a swanky restaurant that suited Aaron’s taste a bit more than Sean’s. That at least he had to give his little brother credit for.

In their adult lives, the Hotchner brothers had never seen eye to eye. It had only gotten worse when their mom had passed leaving the last real reason for them to be civil behind. Not that they were outwardly hostile, at least they hadn’t been until this afternoon, just that Aaron carried a lot of guilt and Sean had never seen to be able to step past his anger about what life had thrown at him. Neither could be blamed for their responses. But when Aaron arrived at the restaurant, Sean moved forward and shook his hand, and even gave him a hug with his other hand. Hotch returned the hug, realizing just how many years it had been since Sean and he had seen each other.

They pulled back and looked at each other for a moment before moving inside and being seated. They both decided to just have a drink. Aaron got a mezcal mule and Sean opted for a margarita on the rocks. They both did a bit of catching up on their first drink, but things started to get rocky when Sean said, “So, I’m seeing someone new. Her name is Jennifer and she’s got three kids from a past relationship. I’m going to visit her and her family over the weekend. If things look good I’m thinking of moving from Nashville. Or I’ll invite her to move down with me.” Hearing this, Hotch took a sharp breath in. Sean had always been impulsive, but this was a lot, even for him. Aaron had hoped that with time, his brother would have grown out of this lifestyle.

Hotch furrowed his brow and asked, “How long have you known her?” Sean sipped his drink but didn’t love Aaron’s tone. He replied a bit defensively, “A month and a half, but I don’t see why that’s a big deal. I’m just feeling it out, Aaron.” Hotch couldn’t help but scoff and say, “It sounds like a bit more than that.” Aaron’s reply only solidified Sean’s defensive nature, and he replied hotly, “Well what do you mean by that? You don’t even know Jennifer.” Aaron took a steadying breath. He didn’t want to come off as creating a narrative, or not trusting Sean, but Aaron had seen the same thing play out with his brother again and again, and each time Sean got hurt. Hotch looked at Sean and said, “I shouldn’t have said it like that. But what I’m trying to say is that you jump into things. You and I have both seen it before. You say that I don’t know Jennifer well, but from what I’m hearing I don’t know if you know her that well either, and you’re already talking about you or her moving across the country. Does that sound logical or well throughout to you?”

Sean was already heated. Something about Aaron’s attitude made him feel judged. His older, well-put-together brother always had something to say about his life. Sean set down his empty glass and said, “Well maybe you’d know more about me and my life if you called me sometimes. Or unlocked yourself from the chain connecting you to your desk and came down and saw me sometimes.” Aaron sighed and tried to defend himself even though he knew Sean was right saying, “Sean, I have Jack. And my work doesn’t just let me have off time like yours does. Plane tickets go both ways. And you never answered my question.”

Aaron pinched the bridge of this nose. He just once wanted Sean to think through his actions. Sean responded, “You’ve always thought you were better than me. And I think you really stopped caring about me when Mom died. But let’s be honest, you stopped caring when dad passed.” The mention of their family so quickly broke Hotch’s facade of composure and he said, “Don’t bring family into this Sean. You know I don’t talk about that. I care about you and I want you to make good choices.” Sean let out a sharp breath and said, “You don’t talk about it because you refuse to admit how fucked up it left you emotionally, Aaron. At least I can connect with women. And don’t start acting like dad on me now.” Sean’s latest comment landed like a slap on the face to Aaron and he said, “You better not be comparing me to him, Sean. You had better not be doing that right now.” After all the beatings Aaron had taken for his mom and for Sean who always seemed to be getting into trouble during his younger years, the comparison made Aaron feel sick. Before Aaron had a chance to reply or defend himself for making a comment he already regretted, Sean continued, “And I don’t think you're qualified to comment on my relationships or how I’ve hurt people before. Haley dumped you and then died because of you. So I can think of at least one woman who’s been treated worse because of a Hotchner and it wasn’t me.”

What Sean said made Aaron see red for a second. He stood, towering over Sean who was still sitting. It was one thing to have Sean bring up their parents, it was one thing to call him a workaholic and be emotionally unavailable. He knew these faults already. It didn’t really hurt him to hear them again, but the comment about Haley ate at him like acid on flesh. He had tried. He had tried so hard with Haley. He had loved her. He’d loved her with everything there was in him, and yes, it wasn’t enough, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love her. That her brutal death hadn’t torn him open sinew by sinew. Aaron felt his heart pumping in his ears. He was biting his tongue so hard that he tasted iron in his mouth. His fingernails dug into the calloused skin of his palms. If Sean was anyone else but his family, he would hit him. However, after all the abuse Aaron had seen, he made a promise to himself that he would never be violent with his family. It took everything in Hotch to uphold that promise. When Aaron came back to his senses, he realized he was standing. It was a good thing as Aaron grabbed his jacket and moved away from the table. He looked at Sean like he didn’t know him as he said, “Don’t ever call me again,” and walked out the door.

The first hour of the drive back to Quantico was filled with a silence so oppressive that Aaron felt it weighing him down like an iron vest. The next hour all Aaron could think about was what Sean had said, and how he had responded. It wasn’t a good feeling. The way he’d ended things, but he wasn’t sure what else he would or could have done at such a cruel statement. If Sean could say something like that to him, to his face, then he felt justified with his final words of their conversation, even if Aaron had seen shame slowly creep up Sean’s face as he realized what he’d said. What Aaron ended up feeling for the rest of the hour was grief. Grief not only for missing Haley but for what felt like a death in his and Sean’s relationship.

Hotch would have liked to drive all the way home, get another stiff drink, take a hot shower, and sleep, but the fact that he had a drink and it was still a long way off from home made that an impossibility. Aaron checked his gas tank. He did need a top-up and he hadn’t seen a station for miles, however, he approached what looked like a small bar nestled in the middle of nowhere. He slowed slightly and looked at the exterior of the old wooden building with a wrap-around porch. The Coors Light and Miller Light neon signs fighting to be seen in the bright daylight gave away that it was a bar and not some old building with a few cars parked outside. Hotch knew he needed a bathroom and this was going to have to do. It would be in and out. He’d grab a beer so he didn’t look like he was just there to relieve himself; even if that was the case.

Aaron pulled into the parking lot. His hands tapped the wheel restlessly as he picked one of the many empty spaces. Something in his gut felt off, but he blamed it on the argument. As good as he was with dealing with stress, this was different. Hotch dropped his head for a second and tried to get his bearings. When he’d taken a deep breath, he raised his head and unbuckled his seatbelt, opened his door, and swung his feet out onto the gravel of the parking lot. The stones crunched under his tread. Hotch stepped up the three stairs onto the wooden porch. He could tell the building had seen much better days. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was rot in the wooden beams that smelled of pine sap. Hotch opened the door which creaked on rusty hinges, as soon as he stepped into the dim, ill-lit room, Aaron knew that he had made a mistake. There there were five patrons and the bartender scattered around the small space. Three of the big burly men were sitting at the bar, and before they turned around to look at who had entered their space, Hotch could see the symbols of hate on their leather vests The antiquated flag of the South that rested above the bar solidified that this was the hangout for a very particular group of people. If he could, Aaron would have walked right back out the door. Even his more casual slacks and button-down were a far departure from the denim jeans, stained baseball caps, and leather, but it was too late, the men sitting at the bar had turned in their seats and eyed him suspiciously.

It was too late to turn around now and just walk out the door. It would look strange and there was something inside gnawing of him to investigate this space further. Call the FBI with evidence of the type of activity happening here. Not only that, but his bladder protested as well. He quickly cleared his throat and moved into the space and toward the restroom sign on the far wall. He strode with a false confidence toward the bathroom, the men turned back to their conversation but with lower voices. After Aaron relieved himself, he moved from the poorly lit room that smelled like piss. He rinsed off his hands and realized that there weren’t any paper towels, so he opted to wipe his damp palms and fingers on his pants. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do.

Moving back into the bar, Aaron stepped up to the wooden countertop next to one of the men who continued to eye him with distaste. The man behind the bar turned his gaze at the tall, broody man standing in front of him, sizing Aaron up. After an awkward moment, the barkeep asked, “What can I get you?” It was clear from the way everyone was acting that he was not welcome here. At this point, Hotch didn’t want to be here either. After letting out a low breath, Hotch replied steadily, “Just a Budlight.” The bartender nodded and grabbed a clean glass from the cups stacked up on the back side of the bar. He moved to the draft beers and filled the glass to the brim, the frothy head spilling just the smallest bit over. The man didn’t bother wiping the side of the glass dry as he added a lime to the rim. As the red-faced man sat the glass down in front of Aaron he said, “That’ll be five dollars.” Hotch nodded and pulled out his wallet. He made sure to keep his FBI ID hidden as he pulled out a ten-dollar bill. Aaron’s eye flicked up the flag on the wall, and he regretted giving this place any money. But he’d just drink his beer as fast as he could without it looking conspicuous and then get the hell out of there. He handed the man the cash who grunted and pulled out a slightly wet five-dollar bill from the tip jar. Hotch took a few sips from the drink trying to drain the glass as quickly as possible. There was no chance of taking a picture without it being obvious, but he’d call the FBI as soon as he was back in his car. In fact, as soon as he was out the door. As he was drinking, one of the men from the tables near the window moved to the bar next to Hotch.

“Another Coors Steve.” The man who had just ordered was so close to Hotch that he could smell his sweat and very clearly see his hateful tattoo. The fact that the man had that visible in this place only solidified that Aaron would never take this road again. This place seemed more than just a spot for the locals to hang out and chat over a cheap beer. Hotch was halfway through his beer and making good time when the door opened again. Aaron couldn’t help like the rest of the patrons to turn his head slightly at the entryway. Hotch felt his stomach clench as he saw who was walking in the door. All other thoughts left his mind, and his work side kicked in. Aaron knew the man walking in the door well. He’d arrested him one year ago for a litany of hate crimes. The memory of the two young men who had been killed by the man stepping up to the bar with a familiar smile made Aaron’s stomach turn. Roman Invictus LeBrant, formerly Hayden Jude LeBrant before he fell down the alt-right pipeline and joined a hate group was a hard person to forget.

Roman noticed Aaron too. He was the man who had put him away for a year and two months of hell. Half of his time in prison had been spent in isolation for his protection as he kept picking fights with the inmates. Thanks to the fact that Roman had no spine and didn’t want to spend any time in jail, he had ratted out all of his co-conspirators and so-called ‘friends.’ Due to this, he had gotten off with a lighter sentence. The very sight of Agent Hotchner shot a bolt of rage through him. Roman’s face broke into a malicious smile. This time the tall and sauve FBI agent was on his turf, with his people. He didn’t have all of his friends to back him up. The man moved up to the bar with confidence. Everyone in the room's attitude shifted as their chosen leader entered their space. The man sitting next to Aaron quickly got up and made room for the man. Everyone also stood at the sheer presence of the man that they so revered. He stepped between Aaron and his friend. Roman looked at Steve and then to his left saying, “Steve, Dan. How are you motherfuckers?” The felon was so close to Aaron that he was brushing his thigh. The lack of personal space was meant to disturb Hotch, but it wasn’t working. Aaron had set down his glass, his eyes facing forward with a determined gaze. The fact was, as quickly as Roman had gotten out of prison, he had began his normal campaign of terror again. After that the man had made himself very hard to find, and to the top of the FBI’s most wanted list. So Hotch had a responsibility to make sure Roman got put back where he belonged. Unfortunately, Aaron couldn’t just whip you his phone and get the FBI here in an instant, and Roman knew this and was enjoying it.

The bartender could sense the tension between Hotch and his friend but chose not to speak. Roman looked straight ahead as well saying, “Hotchner.” Aaron replied, “LeBrant” in greeting. Aaron could feel his gut clench with worry. There was little he could do right now. Roman had come in the front door and was well aware that he was alone, so Hotch was left with not much more than his wits. He had his small pistol on his left ankle, but reaching for that would do little good as everyone in the bar was probably armed. Roman finally addressed the bartender saying, “Steve, I’ll take a shot of whiskey and one for my agent friend too.” At the word agent, the whole room's attitude shifted again. It was tense before, but now that they knew a fed was in their midst, the tension turned to simmering anger and fear.

Aaron knew that there wasn’t much worse than to be in a room full of people like LeBrant who were angry and afraid. Steve let out a chuckle and poured two generous double shots and placed one in front of Aaron and one in front of LeBrant. Aaron wearily looked at the drink and Roman took him with a single swig before turning to Hotch for the first time saying, “Aaron, I don’t think that drink is poisoned as I just had one myself, so drink up. I think you’re going to need it for what’s coming next.” Aaron met Roman’s hateful gaze, raised his shot glass, and said sarcastically, “To your health,” before downing the shot. The dark liquor burned down his throat and he stopped himself from coughing. As Hotch kept his face straight LeBrant asked, “So, have you liked my recent work? I’d think this is a sting operation on the FBI’s part, but you’re looking pretty alone from where you’re sitting right now.” The large man’s words were true as the group of men in the bar had all slowly started surrounding Aaron and cutting off any escape plans he might try and make.

Aaron was racking his brains for a way out of this situation but the repetition of the question, “Didn’t you like my stunt at that church, Agent? Didn’t it get your blood flowing? It certainly had me, excited.” Hotch cringed at the implication and replied, “I find little to be excited about to send a sixteen-year-old suicide bomber into a church filled with people, mostly women and children.” Roman scoffed and nodded at Steve for a beer bottle. Aaron shifted in his chair slightly which had an impact as everyone, including Steve, pulled guns on him. Everyone, except LeBrant that was. He was the king of his castle and he knew he would be protected no matter what. Roman raised his hands and said, “Easy boys. Take it easy. We don’t want things to get messy, just yet at least.” Hotch swallowed thickly and Roman grabbed the bottle off of the bar, looking at the label before quickly whipping it above his head and over the back of Aaron’s skull.

The sound and feeling of the ice-cold beer and the shards of glass colliding with Hotch’s head was so intense that it knocked him off his chair. Aaron took in a sharp breath as he closed his eyes as the alcohol streamed down his head and wetted his hair and the collar of his shirt. Closing his eyes didn’t help Aaron much with keeping a handle on the situation as he leaned heavily forward against the bar before being wrenched back by serval hands on his body to the center of the room.

Aaron stumbled as he was led away from any support. He could hear a few low laughs at his condition but was more worried about what was going to happen next. Hotch opened his eyes to see the floor swimming in front of his eyes. Before he could even get his feet under him, a knee met painfully with his groin. The pain of the glass tearing open his scalp and the feeling of warm blood flowing from his head was surpassed by the acute pain emanating from his nether regions up his body. Aaron grunted with pain and screwed his eyes shut again. The hot, large hands fondling a sensitive area of Hotch’s body had him open his eyes again.

He wasn’t surprised that it was Roman doing the fondling, thankfully at this point over his clothes. LeBrant spat in Aaron’s face as they made eye contact and Roman’s hand slowed as he said, “How do you like that Hotchner? How does it make you feel?” Aaron’s gaze hardened and he refused to reply to LeBrant’s taunts and demeaning actions. The gruff man gave Aaron’s groin a hard squeeze before stepping back. Hotch had just started to catch his bearings, when he realized he was being supported on either side of his body by two men with the rest of the gang stepping in front of him. His eye caught that his only gun had been taken. Roman, like a shark circling a bleeding victim in the ocean, hoping to get some sort of fearful response. When the man didn’t get one he snarled and pulled out a jack-knife and moved back to Aaron’s face flashing the point of the blade dangerously close to his skin. Still, Hotch didn’t flinch and Roman flicked the knife over Hotch’s cheek drawing fresh blood apart from the red liquid slowly causing Aaron’s vision to be disabled. Hotch naturally pulled back and Roman laughed before saying, “How would you like me to blind you, Aaron? Or cut off one of your ears. Do you think the FBI will still want you after that?” Aaron couldn’t stop himself from coughing out in pain as the men holding him tightened their grips on his forearms.

Roman was happy with his enemy's position, as bloody drool slipped from his mouth and onto the floor of the bar. LeBrant stepped back and stated, “Boys, if you want to have some fun you can. You can blame Agent Hotchner for locking me up for a few years, so why don’t you pay him back in kind? Now, no serious boldly harm, and not too much blood. You’ll have to clean this shit hole up after the mess you make of him, but enjoy for a bit.” Hotch raised his head to look at Roman defiantly, hoping to show that he still wasn’t afraid. Whatever he had planned for him, he still didn’t regret putting him away, and putting him away again. LeBrant met Aaron’s stern brown eyes and sat back at the bar, grabbing another drink like nothing was happening. The man said over his shoulder as the real beating began, “You’re welcome for the whiskey, Hotchner.”

LeBrant managed to down two more beers while watching and listening with a sick satisfaction to Aaron as he got punched, spat on, had drinks splashed in his face, and forced down his throat. Hotch gaged as another bottle was cast aside and hit the wall with the sound of shattered glass. He was beyond the point of silence as he took blow after blow to his face and torso. Aaron was sure his nose was broken as he took another hit to the face and his nose radiated pain through his nasal bridge and up his skull. He grunted in pain as his ribs got another beating. If pulverizing him to death was the plan, then the men surrounding him were doing a good job at that. However, what these bruisers weren’t very good at, and apparently Roman wasn’t good at noticing either, was that Aaron’s DNA was getting spread everywhere in the room from his saliva on the shattered beer bottles, or his blood dripping on the floor, or his hair which had been harshly pulled to jerk his head up. That was the thing about groups like these, they loved to act tough and strong, but their brains weren’t aways fully used. People like LeBrant could use others as a shield, but no matter what happened, it was going to be hard to get rid of every trace Aaron would leave in the space.

Hotch’s hold on consciousness was becoming harder, but he managed to notice when the front door opened again. Aaron had hoped it would be someone who was an outsider like him, someone who didn’t belong here. But the normalcy of seeing a man being beaten told Aaron the new man was part of the group. Hotch’s neck hurt as he made eye contact with the man. He had sandy blond hair and clear grey eyes. The look of surprise and innocence quickly left the young man’s face before anger and hatred took over. Aaron dropped his head not sure what was happening but unable to support his own head. Because of this, he didn’t fully understand why the arms that were holding him up suddenly slacked and there was a heavy scuffle of feet as the floor came dangerously close. Before he could reach the ground there was shouting and then a loud popping sound that Aaron realized was a bullet once he felt a searing hot pain tear through his side whipping his body back and to the ground. The pain was worse than anything Aaron had already felt before now. The pain was so bad that he struggled to get oxygen in and his vision went black for a few seconds before he took a huge choking gulp of air in which only blinded him with more pain.

While Hotch was writhing on the ground trying to get a grasp of what had happened and not blacking out, the older, more seasoned members of Roman’s gang stood for a brief moment of silence, as the men realized what had happened before an uproar started. They dropped their victim and rushed to the newest person in the bar throwing the gun from his hand. Roman stumbled out of his chair, face turning red with rage as he took a breath and shouted at the top of his lungs, “What the fucking hell are you doing Davies? What the mother fucking hell!” Spittle flew from his mouth and Davies, the newest, and youngest recruit to LeBrants' cause swallowed nervously. He hadn’t expected this response. He thought he’d get praise for his actions as he was always told to take bigger steps and take risks for the cause. Greg, one of the senior circles slapped Davies in the face and said, “Roman’s talking to you. Answer him.” Davies stuttered as he said, “That’s the guy that put you away. I thought that I should put him where he belonged. Hanged from a noose or underground. I ain’t got no rope, so I shot the fucker.” Davies was all in and zealous for the group's beliefs and in his case. Roman bowed his head and muttered “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” under his breath.

LeBrant came back to the moment when Aaron let out a soft whimper and placed his hand over his stomach where blood was pooling dangerously fast beneath him and onto the ground. Even in his agonizing state, Aaron knew that the most important thing was to try and stop the flow of blood as much as possible. If it was instinct or training, Hotch couldn’t be sure with the pain he was in. For now, all he could do was try and survive. Roman was thinking the same thing for himself as a multitude of options flashed in front of his mind. He was the leader and he needed to act like one as Davies looked at him like a deer in the headlight while the rest of his men glanced uneasily between Aaron’s hunched-up body on the floor and their leader.

Roman cleared his throat and took a more secure stance, with his feet apart and chest out. An idea was forming in his mind and he just needed his people to fall in line. Roman looked at Davies first and said, “It’s alright son. You did well shooting the fed. He earned it.” With those words, the men seemed to relax a bit and one knelt down next to Hotch to see the damage. Roman nodded a self-soothing gesture before saying, “Okay. Steve. Get us a trash bag or something to stop the blood so it will be easier to clean. Let’s do that first.” Steve rummaged through his back bar and tossed a roll of saran wrap and tape to Greg. Hank another senior member moved next to Greg and asked Roman, “Are we saving his ass?” LeBrant scoffed and replied, “Funk no. Just don’t want the fucker bleeding all over. Now, wrap him up tight, and don’t make it too comfortable on him either.” Hank snorted back laughter and he pulled Aaron’s torso off the floor roughly. Hotch tried uselessly to stop anyone from removing his hands from the gunshot wound, but he was too weak to put up a fight. His large hands were slick with blood as he tried and failed. Greg took out the plastic wrap and pushed the roll to Hotch’s stomach causing Aaron to groan out in pain. The pair on the floor moved the roll over the agent's wound minimally stopping the flow of blood. Davies watched as Aaron convulsed in pain on the ground.

The young man had thought he would feel better killing a fed, but what he was seeing was making him want to vomit instead. When the seran wrap was taped tight over Hotch’s blood-soaked shirt Roman instructed, “Greg, Hank, Davies, go take Agent Hotchner into the woods. Far away. I’d recommend the national park. Don’t kill him. Let him bleed out or better yet, let some animal finish him off. Take him in his car and then when you’ve dumped the body torch the car.” Everyone else, we’re cleaning this place, top to bottom. No drop of blood, nothing can be found here.” Everyone nodded and took on their roles quickly.

Hotch was jerked back to consciousness as he was dragged out the front door. He blearily saw someone open the door to his SUV before he was placed in the back seat. His brain was thinking of trying to run, to call for help, but he was stripped of his phone and hardly had the strength to keep his eyes open. Davies was standing outside the car still not sure what to do exactly, and most certainly not sure how to feel. Roman looked out the window at the man that had the potential to fuck his life over again. He turned to Steve and said, “Go out there and kill Davies. Headshot, make it fast, and don’t let him suffer.” Steve looked up at Roman and said astoundedly, “Roman?” LeBrant turned to Steve and said, “You heard me. The kid’s a liability. I am not going back to that shit fucking hell hole of a prison cell, and Davies seems to be trying to send me there, so go out there and get the job done. Put his body in the truck with Hotchner and tell Greg and Hank when they set the car on fire to leave Davies's body in there.”

It was with blind adoration that Steve hesitantly grabbed his rifle and stepped outside. The young man was still standing while looking at Aaron’s SUV as Greg and Hank looked at a map to decide where to drop Aaron off to have his last few moments of life. They were arguing about accessibility, getting the car in without being seen, and lugging the agent out into the middle of the surrounding forest. It had to be just right without the chance of anyone catching them but still able for two men to pull off alone. They didn’t trust Davies for shit. He was too green for the whole operation. Not trustworthy in their eyes.

Meanwhile, Aaron had gathered some of his bearings in the back seat. He was unhappy with his supine position in the back. It would be far too easy for him to be taken out quietly and quickly after the SUV had pulled away from the bar. While Aaron was waiting for something to happen, he pressed his left hand to his side tightly, grit his teeth, and used his right to slowly inch himself up to a seated position. He was well aware that this position was causing him to bleed out faster, but at this stage, life didn’t seem too long, and if he was going to go out, he would understand as much as he could as to what was happening around him, and if possible, leave traces for the team to find his body after.

The thought hurt Hotch as Jack would lose both of his parents. Aaron held himself back from crying, but the idea of his son being alone tore at him just as badly as the hole in his torso did. Aaron did not expect to see what he did. Just as his eyes got high enough to see out the window, the young man who had shot him had his name called from the porch of the establishment. Davies was about five feet from the bar and turned around. He didn’t see the shotgun in Steve’s hand, but Aaron did. There was nothing Hotch could do but close his eyes just before the blood splatter and brain matter painted the tires of his car. Aaron fell back onto the seat, not expecting to see an execution like that. He was too beaten to get back up, but at least he was laying on his side instead of on his back which would afford him a look out the front window so he could see where he was going or try and make mental notes of some landmarks; assuming that he wasn’t going to be blindfolded. From the state of things outside and groups shouting at each other, Hotch didn’t think that those dumping him would do anything more than take him far out and drop him.

A few moments later the back door was opened again and several men heaved Davies's body onto the floor in the back of the car. Aaron didn’t focus on the body apart from unintentionally seeing what was left of what had been a youthful face. He was unrecognizable now. Hotch closed his eyes and tried to steel himself for the ride to come. If he survived long enough he’d think about the man on the floor -- later, much later. Right now he centered his head on Jack, then on the team who were on a case in Ohio. Lastly, he tried his best to listen to Hank and Greg as they got in and revved the engine.

They were silent as they slowly drove out of the parking lot. The crunch of gravel and Aaron’s labored breathing punctuated the silence. It was clear to Aaron that the two men in the front were remaining quiet so Aaron wouldn’t have any more details about them, their plans, or the organization. He and the BAU had taken Roman down once, and they didn’t want to be in that frying pan again. As they hit the main road, Greg, who was driving, stayed just at the speed limit to not attract any attention from passing cars even though there were none on the road. However, as the car started hitting bumps, Aaron couldn’t hold in his pained grunts and whimpers as searing pain shot through him with each unexpected dip or rise in the SUV. It seemed that Aaron’s pained sounds were too much for the men, and they looked at each other and then the downed agent in the rearview mirror before they both started a light conversation that was fully juxtaposed to the gruesome scene around them.

The men began talking about the weather and then talked about their wives. Aaron could hardly hear the conversation as he tried to keep himself awake. The duration of the car ride took about half an hour, and Aaron noticed one very strange-looking tree that had been struck by lightning and bifurcated down the center almost perfectly. His brain had started to be pulled into so many different directions as his sanity slipped away from the blood loss. His brain wondered how many trees like that got struck annually, and he knew that Spencer would have an answer to that question. The team flashed before his mind when an abrupt halt of the car almost had Hotch fly into the seatbacks in front of him. He managed to not have that happen, and shortly after Greg and Hank were at the left side of the car and both grunted as they pulled Aaron by the legs out of the car.

Hotch almost hit the muddly path, but the two men held onto his underarms jostling him back to awareness. As strong as these men thought they were, they hadn’t realized just how hard it was to drag a limp body around, and Aaron had no strength to walk on his own feet and no desire to help in his own demise. In fact, if he could make it harder for them, he would. So Aaron coughed and made sure that some of his spit and blood got on the ground. Not only that but he also dug his toes into the earth so his tennis shoes left little trails in the mud. Hotch knew that if he was dealing with a more competent group, they would do something about this now, but Greg and Hank were too busy hauling him along to care at the moment. Greg was significantly taller than Hank and due to this, Aaron’s left side was far lower to the ground making the weight distribution of his toned body uneven. After only ten minutes, once the trio had entered what seemed to be a secluded and wooded part of the forest, the shorter man who was carrying the greater bit of weight grunted out, “Let’s dump him here. I can’t keep doing this and then have to trash a car too.” Greg, who was also tired agreed and they dropped Aaron like a load of bricks and took off as quickly as they could discussing loudly that there was a cliff face nearby and it was unlikely that anyone would find Aaron for days. Hotch moaned slightly and took in the scent of the wet earth near him. He supposed that dying in the forest, in nature, wasn't the worst place to go. It smelled nice and if he could only turn over he’d see the sky and canopy of trees above him once more. As his vision started fading again he realized he might not have that chance.

Nearby Aaron’s dump site, y/n had been on a four-day long backpacking trip. They’d asked their boss for the Friday and Monday off months ago. y/n had needed a chance to unwind, be alone, and potentially scream into the void. That type of behavior didn’t normally fly in their apartment and they were feeling so much more at peace after their first day of hiking. y/n had found a lovely spot to set up their small one-person tent for the evening. When y/n had gotten up the next morning and looked down the tall rock ravine, they saw the bolts in the wall from previous climbers. They regretted that it had rained the last night making any climbing impossible. y/n considered continuing moving along the twenty-five mile trail they had mapped two months before, but realized that they weren’t with a group and they were already almost halfway through the trail and could finish hiking it in a full day. Because of this, and because y/n had promised to do whatever they felt like on this trip, they decided to stay in that spot for the day. It was a bit off the beaten track which is what they wanted and in all honesty real life had been so stressful recently that just taking a day to sleep, read, and swim in the nearby river sounded like exactly what y/n needed.

y/n slept in another hour before making a cup of _c/t_. While they sipped their steaming cup, they picked up their most recent book and took a few minutes absorbing the pages of the story making small mental notes about where the plot might go and if some twist was coming in the next chapter. Somehow all the books that y/n read ended up having weird twists that they loved to hate. After getting through their drink and feeling warmed, y/n changed into light hiking attire that could be stripped down for a dip in the lake as long as the water wasn’t too cold or full of bramble from the rain last night. It was a short hike down to the water's edge and it was crisp, but not too cold to for a midday swim. y/n laid a towel down on the rocky shore after getting out of the water and drying off in the warmth of the sun. They dozed on and off as they tanned for a bit. Not that y/n was a vain person, but with the oncoming of summer, having a bit of a tan couldn’t hurt. When y/n was happy with their time by the lake, they moved back toward their tent and supplies which they had put in a bear bag and lifted high above the ground. It was about a thirty minute walk back to the tent when y/n would plan on what to do with the rest of their free day.

It felt wrong to just waste such a pretty day. When y/n was close to their campsite, they stopped in their tracks abruptly. The sound of voices and heavy footsteps is what made them halt. y/n’s stomach dropped for some reason. If they were on a more well-known trail or popular camping site, y/n would likely greet those on their walk in the opposite direction. But this was different. This area was secluded, off the beaten track. And from the sound of it, it was two men moving slowly nearby. y/n had spent enough time outside camping and backpacking to hear loads of horror stories of those having bad things done to them on the trail. Sure some of them were overembellished, but certainly not all of them, and y/n wasn’t willing to take the risk with their own safety. y/n slinked back into the brush and hoped that the men would stop before catching sight of their tent. y/n took slow soft breaths and waited, all there was to do was wait. Just as the footsteps seemed to be right on them, they stopped.

y/n couldn’t see the men. They’d stopped just out of sight. As they stopped, y/n realized that something was very, very wrong. The strong breathing of the men had hidden the sounds of another person. Someone who was clearly in pain. Their breathing was raspy like air wasn’t fully supplying their body. There was also a very painful-sounding grunt as the injured party hit the ground. One of the men said, “Fuck, that’s hard work. I don’t believe Roman’s stories now about all his brawls and picking people up in the clanger now.” There was a grunt and another, deeper voice replied, “Shit man, I don’t believe half of his crap, but he’s the boss. He says jump and I jump. Now let’s get back to the car and torch it. The agent here won’t last long.” The first voice agreed and said, “Yeah. I need a shower and another beer. Let’s hope it’s all cleaned up by the time we get back to Steve’s.”

y/n felt like they couldn’t stand still any longer. The desire to take a deep breath of just look out to see what was happening at the men who were talking pulled at them like an itch. But not all itches should be scratched. Some needed to not be disturbed, and it felt like torture, but y/n held back from moving until the sound of chatter and footsteps were long gone. Even after they were out of audible range, y/n waited. After another few restless minutes, they got up from their hiding position. From the sound of it, someone, perhaps someone unsafe was very injured. Even so, it wasn’t like y/n to leave someone hurt to fend for themself. With caution, y/n moved through the low brush and mud, and after a few paces, they noticed a man lying on his stomach. It didn’t take y/n more than a second to realize that the man on the ground, even if he was some hardened criminal, was unable to fight. Besides this fact, there was the comment about the “Agent not being around long,” so the man might have been on the opposite side of crime. Without hesitation y/n moved next to the prone form in the mud and set down their backpack. The man gave a small sound, perhaps aware that there was someone else near him. y/n looked over the man and noticed the saran wrap around his torso. It was a poor attempt to staunch the flow of blood from a bullet wound. Given how much blood the man had lost, there was no time to lose in getting the man medical help.

y/n knelt down next to the man and noted the thick blood coating his forehead and brow. y/n patted his shoulder, and he managed to open his eyes. Aaron could see the blurry figure of someone kneeling in front of him. He thought it was a hallucination until they touched his shoulder and tried to say something to him. Understanding the stranger's words was beyond all comprehension to him now. y/n could tell that he didn’t understand or see them well, but at least he was awake. It would be in his best interest to keep him awake. If the man slipped off to sleep, he may never wake again. So with that in mind, and to try and keep him in as calm a mindset as possible, y/n took off their jacket which they had tied around their waist, and placed it on the man’s back. It would do for a bit of padding and something to soak up the excess blood. There was no need to cut this side of the plastic wrap, and why it had been added in the first place was a mystery. But that wasn’t the main goal right now. The main goal was to stabilize the man for long enough until medical help arrived. y/n grit their teeth and said firmly. “I’m going to roll you over onto your back and then run to my tent and grab some supplies while I call 9-1-1 for you, okay.”

The man didn’t make a sound, but y/n knew that shifting his weight was going to be painful, so they didn’t waste more time. Given the man’s parlor, there was no time to waste. y/n grabbed the man’s shoulder and hip and tried to slowly and carefully roll him onto his back. As soon as y/n pulled their hands away, which were slick with blood, the man groaned in pain as his body settled. He was still awake. y/n cringed to hear him and said, “I’m going to run to my camp, get some supplies, and call in an emergency helicopter. I’ll be back in five minutes max.” y/n swallowed thickly trying not to be sick at the sight of the man. They grabbed his right hand and placed it over the bullet hole. The man’s hand was crusted over with blood, and it was large. His fingernails had dirt caked under them, and y/n imagined that it might be painful when he got washed up with all the hair his arms had on them. y/n snapped back to the moment. It had only been a millisecond, but in moments of high stress, they always found themselves focusing on the smallest, most insignificant things. They shifted their eyes to the man’s and he seemed to be locked on theirs. y/n nodded their head and said, “Hold your hands here, as hard as possible, okay.” The man nodded slightly, and with that, y/n got up and ran toward their campsite.

It was in moments like these that y/n hated that they didn’t always carry their cell phone with them when they camped alone, but then again, they hadn’t expected to find themselves in this situation either. y/n was an experienced outdoors person. With friends and family that respected and highlighted being self sufficient and being able to take care of one’s self. In their world being unable to handle any situation was a weakness and therefore y/n had pressed themselves to always be prepared. This included knowing basic first aid and other skills that were more niche to their interest in spending a lot of time outside. Although it had been hard to be a parental figure and having to figure out being self-sufficient from a very young age, the parentification had equipped y/n for moments like these, and for meeting strange men in the woods if it ever came to that. y/n ran as quickly and as carefully as possible. It would be no good to anyone if they slipped and twisted or broke an ankle or wrist before getting back to the man. The image of his bloody and bruised body was seared in their retinas. They hadn’t seen anything this bad, ever, and the questions on what had happened to the man and who he was came faster than y/n could process them. It was all a sickening blur. y/n made it to their camp and almost dove into their tent. They found their phone first which was still on the solar-powered charging brick. y/n checked for a signal and let out a small prayer of thanks that there was a signal. Even though they were pretty far out, a signal was more often present than not. And if there wasn’t, there were always ways to contact emergency services, but it would take longer, and there wasn’t time for longer right now.

After one ring the emergency operator answered, “9-1-1, please state your name and the nature of your emergency.” The woman on the phone sounded calm, calmer than y/n felt. Their breath had picked up with all the running, and they had to clear their throat before saying, “My name in y/n, _l/n_. I’m at Shenandoah National Park on the east side camped near Ghost View Lake. There’s a man who needs a Medevac as soon as possible. He’s been shot in the torso, and he’s been severely beaten.” There were a few clicks on the other end of the line and the responder asked, “Are you with this man now? Is he still breathing?” y/n nodded, taking in the person’s words before saying, “I’m not with him right now. He was breathing when I left him. I had to run to my tent to call you and get my emergency supplies.” There was more typing and a muffled voice on the other end of the line before the woman came back on saying, “Please get back to the man as quickly as possible. Do you have any medical training?” y/n nodded saying, “Some, but not much. The bullet seems to have gone clean through though, and he’s lost a lot of blood.” As y/n was speaking, they began packing all of the important things to help the hurt man into their large backpack. By the time they had started zipping up the sides, the operator had told y/n to get back to the Hotch and light a flare for the helicopter to see so they could find a spot to land. The woman relayed that it might be twenty minutes or more before help came, and to keep the man awake if possible. As y/n ran back toward Aaron, they were given more specific instructions on what to do once they were back. y/n kept the woman on the line and as soon as they found an open and dry spot close to where they had found Aaron, they pulled out a flare and struck it against the cap of the flare. Once the melting hot red light burst from the tip like the tale of a demon, they set the flare on a smooth rock, far enough away from the wet brush and leaves to not start a forest fire. Once this was done, y/n moved as quickly as possible back to the man.

Since y/n had been gone, Aaron felt his strength ebb again. Had the person said something to him? The world was dark again and he was beginning to feel numb. But the memory of the feelings of their hands on his, pressing against his stomach reminded him that they had been real, at least for a moment. Hotch also knew that sleep was death, and therefore grit his teeth and pressed against his torso again over his wound. The pain shot through him again, though his time was less intense; he knew this was not a good sign. Just as Aaron felt his hand slipping, he noticed a bright red light in the corner of his vision, and the person who had been with him before returned.

y/n skidded to a halt in front of the man, falling to their knees saying, “Hey, you’re still with me. Good. You’re doing good. Help is coming, I promise.” y/n placed their hands on either side of his head and the feeling of their fingers on the side of his face had Hotch open his eyes slightly. Just the simple feeling of touch was a comfort, even if he was doomed to bleed out on the forest floor. Hotch pondered how funny small things became huge things when life was about to end. y/n noticed his brown eyes on them and said, “I’m just making sure your head is laying flat. Then I’m going to check your mouth to make sure you’re not going to choke on your own blood.” Aaron tried to nod, but he couldn’t manage it. y/n knelt further forward and helped Aaron open his mouth. Thankfully there didn’t appear to be any blockage of his trachea, though his breathing was labored. Where or what that situation was, was beyond y/n, so they moved to the next thing the emergency operator had said to do.

The woman was still on the phone, but y/n was so hyper-focused on the task in front of them, that they didn’t think to give a report on the man’s condition. While he was trying to see the person in front of him more clearly, y/n started pulling things out of their backpack and setting them on the ground, attempting to not get them muddy or contaminated while still being efficient. Once y/n had pulled out their small knife, their first aid kit, and the clean clothes they had, they rezipped their bag and moved to the man’s feet. y/n spoke loudly, so the man could possibly hear, “I’m going to raise your feet. Keep the blood going to your head as much as possible. y/n grabbed their bag and placed it just to the side of the man’s lower legs. y/n didn’t want to shift the man’s body much, if at all, so they had to have things in place. They took another sturdy breath and lifted his left leg just high enough to move their backpack under his knees. The man groaned and y/n said, “I’m sorry. Sorry,” y/n repeated one more time before moving the other leg next to the first. y/n knew that this would be the least of the man’s pain. y/n placed their hands on the ground and took another stabilizing breath, reminding themselves that they could do this. That they could do anything, that they had had to do everything. y/n tried to picture the man as someone they’d protected in the past. Someone that they would do anything for. This helped y/n in moving forward to the next step. Before doing what needed to be done, y/n looked at the man again, tapping his face. Those big brown eyes met theirs again, half understanding, half sad. y/n said more softly this time. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry. Try not to bite your tongue. Keep your teeth clenched,” y/n demonstrated, “like this.” y/n they looked a fool, but what else could they do?

y/n pulled a packaged sanitary wipe from the ground and ripped it open. They rubbed it over their hands thoroughly. When the moisture had evaporated, y/n grabbed their first aid kit and pulled out all of the cotton balls and cotton bandages that were inside. y/n placed them on top of the kit and hoped the no wind would blow the supplies away, there were already scant few as it was. Next, y/n grabbed their knife and opened it with a flick of the wrist. y/n knew that once they made the next move there was no going back until the medics arrived. With a look of determination, y/n shifted forward and carefully slipped the tip of the knife under the plastic wrap covering the man’s front. His shirt protected his skin from the sharp blade from cutting him further, and y/n cut up and out with as much care as possible. The blood made the surface of the saran wrap slippery in y/n’s free hand and the multiple layers were not as easy to cut through. However, after what felt like an eternity and with y/n’s heart beating loudly in their ears, the plastic was freed from his body. y/n quickly closed and locked their blade and pushed the plastic barrier aside along with Hotch’s soiled shirt. Even though the saran wrap hadn’t done much to stop the blood from leaving the man’s body, it’s removal along with the final absorption barrier being pulled aside allowed the blood to ebb up a bit more in a trickle of crimson. Again y/n didn’t have time to look at the deep red pooling up on the man’s stomach. Instead, they grabbed a cotton ball and with as much mental strength as they had, pushed it into the weeping wound. The man’s body jolted in pain, but y/n ignored him and grabbed another piece of cotton and then another, pushing each of the white puffs into the bullet hole. The clean cotton was instantly stained red, and y/n tried to ignore the man’s cries of pain knowing that this was for the best. Keep the blood in the body, get his legs up, keep him awake. That was what the nurse had said and what was what they were going to do. At least to the best of their ability. Another eternity later, the hole was filled. It was still releasing blood but at a slower pace.

y/n grabbed the biggest cotton bandage they had and pressed it on top of the packed wound. y/n placed both hands over this last dam, and pressed down to try and keep the man stable. To keep him alive. It wasn’t until all of this had been accomplished that they managed to look up at his face. The man’s eyes were drooping closed and y/n said, “Hey, hey, stay with me. What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?” Aaron turned his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look at the person helping him. It was a comfort to be in their presence. He still couldn’t see them so he said in a low voice, “Hotchner.” y/n nodded, assuming it was a last name. They were at a loss for what to say next. Nothing felt right, so they opted for questions, easy ones. Or at least ones that seemed easy for them. “Hi, Mr. Hotchner. Where were you going today? What brought you this way.”

Aaron, whose brain had been feeling numb for some time, had started getting more blood circulation thanks to his legs being lifted off the ground. He could feel his helper's hands still over his side. Where he was and what was happening felt beyond him again. He didn’t like the feeling at all, but his body was shutting down and he half-mumbled, “I’m going to see my wife. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.” y/n, nodded and replied softly, “I’m sure she’ll be so happy to see you. And I know you’ll be happy to see her.” It wasn’t until this point that y/n had thought about him as a person. Not actually as a person, person, but as a man with a life and things outside this very moment of survival. But as they raised one hand and just barely shifted his hair that was caked with blood, off his forehead it became increasingly more difficult to see Mr. Hotchner as anything else than a man who is hurt and probably afraid to die. At the person’s touch, Aaron moved his dominant hand up and this allowed y/n to see that he wasn’t wearing a ring. This fact only came to y/n’s mind because Mr. Hotchner had just said that he was going to see his wife. y/n justified that perhaps the man was just one of many many husbands who didn’t wear a wedding ring, but for some reason, y/n didn’t think that this man would be one of them. Something in their gut just said otherwise. A moment later Hotch said something that would shock y/n even more as he said, “I’m worried about Jack. I can’t go away.” y/n looked up at him and moved their hand back to the now blood-soaked bandage and asked, “Who is Jack Mr. Hotchner?”

The image of Jack passed in front of Aaron, and he saw himself holding his child, Jack smiling. Maybe it was Christmas time because the lights were twinkling in the background. Then Jack at his first soccer game came to mind, his little legs carrying him toward a ball he was sure to miss. Hotch blinked back tears as he came back to himself. Weakly he said, “My son. Jack is my son. He’s a good kid. Really good. He doesn’t deserve this.” Aaron was thinking about the very real possibility of his son losing both of his parents, but he didn’t vocalize that out loud. y/n furrowed their brow and said “You’re going to be fine Mr. Hotchner. It’s going to be okay. You’ll see your son and your wife again. I know it.” y/n was speaking to themselves now mostly. The trauma of finding someone brutalized in the woods and the possibility that he might die in front of them was finally settling in. y/n had experienced trauma before, but not like this. This was different. Thankfully y/n didn’t have much time to explore this train of thought as the sound of the helicopter approached nearby. y/n bowed their head in thanks for the sound that drowned out their thoughts and didn’t even realize that they had set their head on Aaron’s chest while still keeping their trembling hands on his wound.

When they arrived, it took the emergency medics a moment to pry y/n off of Aaron as they struggled to let the man they were trying to save go. When y/n realized what was happening, they moved off to the side on unsteady feet and watched the flight paramedics assess and then begin rudimentary efforts to stabilize their patient. y/n watched as a blood transfusion was started and the packing of the bullet wound was made better with medical-grade supplies. These things felt like a blur and as the two-person medical team began moving Aaron onto a stretcher, the sound of police sirens in the distance became audible. y/n realized that the helicopter operator had shared the patient's location and law enforcement was coming to help. This allowed y/n to relax slightly realizing that they were not going to be left alone in the woods once the Medevac was gone.

Although y/n had felt peace knowing more help was on the way, the questions seemed endless as police arrived and went over the course of the afternoon again. They pointed out everything. Said as much as they could remember and watched as the orange helicopter lifted off and moved Eastward. The last thing they heard from the trauma team at the hospital was, “We have a multisystem failure. Patient is already on a transfusion and Fentanyl…” as they passed by,. y/n’s brain now felt like scrambled eggs and they longed for some respite. Eventually, the police said that y/n would need to come to the station and that they could get a ride in one of the cruisers. Behind y/n’s back, the officers also noticed that y/n should also go to a hospital, and driving there themselves was not a safe idea for them. A few minutes later, y/n tipped their head against the headrest in the backseat of the police car simply letting things happen to them at this point. The officers had assured them that a recovery and crime scene team would gather their belongings from their campsite along with their car. This was all for evidence too, but y/n was too tired to comprehend what was being said to them.

A few hours later y/n made it out of the room they had been seen in at the hospital. It was very dark outside at this point but the police had easily identified the man they had found, Special Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner. The words ran over y/n like a wave. Anything would bowl them over now, but finding out that they had found a federal agent near death in the woods was astounding. In the hospital, y/n was given a thorough exam and then given some strong sleep medication and some Benzos so that y/n could have a sound night’s rest. The local police station had called the Quantico Field Office to let the Beaure know that Agent Hotchner was in critical condition at the JFK University Medical Center.

As it turned out the BAU was out on a case at the moment, but the Lead Team Coordinator said they would reach out. Within the hour the hospital and police station knew that a member of the BAU was flying up immediately on their jet and should be there sometime around three in the morning. With this information in mind, the police had asked y/n to stay at least one day in town before going home. The very professional-sounding man, Agent Rossi, who was headed to the hospital had asked them to stay and talk. The police had made the choice easy by booking a cab and a room to get y/n from the hospital to the hotel room they had booked in their name. Thankfully, y/n’s boss, after a few minutes of explaining what had happened, had given them the rest of the week off. y/n knew they would need it. Nothing felt quite real anymore and some more time alone would be good. Before y/n went to call the cab, to get a shower and sleep, they stopped at the receptionist's desk and asked, “Do you know if Aaron Hotchner is in a stable condition?” The nurse asked them how they knew the patient and y/n showed their own medical bracelet and explained that they had found Mr. Hotchner. The man looked at y/n and how tired they appeared, nodded, and replied, “I’m sorry, I can’t share any information about the patient” There was a long pause before they added, “However, Mr. Hotchner is still in the ICU.” y/n nodded, wanting more information but also knowing that they had already been told more than was allowed. With that scant information, y/n moved outside and caught their ride.

The first thing that was surprising to Aaron was the fact that he woke up at all. The feeling of the stiff mattress against his fingers and the crisp sheets covering his body. The sterile scent of antiseptic was the next thing he noticed. He took a few moments to just take in the fact that he had survived the ordeal with Roman. Much of what had happened after the beating in the bar was foggy and beyond his reach. He tried to take a deep breath to center himself but that was a serious error as this triggered parts of his body that weren’t ready to be used that way yet. He let out a cough only exacerbating his pain. The feelings of multiple IVs which he detected now became more apparent and when he opened his eyes, the blurry figure of someone standing came into better focus as the door to his room opened letting in more light from the hallways. As his vision cleared, he could see Dave turn around and greet someone who must have been a doctor. Rossi stepped back a bit, but just knowing Dave was here let Aaron be checked over and taken care of. He didn’t have the energy for much more than being pocked and very lightly prodded before he slipped back into unconsciousness.

The next time Hotch woke, he was more aware. The room didn’t spin and he could see Dave looking down from his seat near the hospital bed. Aaron didn’t know what to say and just said, “Hey.” At hearing Hotch, Rossi sat forward in his seat and softly replied, “Hey there. Looks like you had a hell of a time with Sean.” Sean hadn’t even crossed Aaron’s mind, but Dave’s attempt at humor while he was feeling like hell was actually funny and Aaron let out a half scoff, half laugh before leaning his head back on the pillow. It wasn’t until he tried to move the blanket to feel more covered that he realized his arm was in a cast. His whole body felt numb, and in that moment, he was grateful for opioids. Rossi moved forward and moved the blanket up and over Aaron’s shoulders. Hotch looked up at Dave and asked, “How bad?” Rossi’s eyes moved toward him, a sure sign that it wasn’t good. After a deep breath, Dave said, “You lost a lot of blood, you’re fighting an infection, concussion, broken arm, and multiple lacerations to your head and body.” Hotch nodded, absorbing the information before saying, “Yeah, Sean really did a job on me.” Rossi could see regret in Aaron’s eyes even though the statement was an attempt at a joke. Dave frowned. Something had happened with Sean and it wasn’t fair to Aaron after being through such a crucible that he should feel bad about anything at the moment. Dave thought about reaching out and patting Hotch on the shoulder, but it was likely Aaron wasn’t looking for touch right now, so he settled with telling his best friend that the team was coming to find LeBrant, who had gone into hiding, and how Jessica would bring Jack down when the doctors said it was okay. Aaron nodded again, thankful that Dave knew him so well. When Rossi had given him some time to just relax and center himself, Aaron asked, “Who was it that found me? Have you seen them?” All Aaron could remember about the person who had saved his life was that they had stayed with him. That their presence, even if he had died, had made him feel safe.

Rossi replied, “I haven’t seen them yet, though I’ve asked them to meet me here. There are some questions I still have about their report. They should arrive in a few minutes, and that way you can have some time alone if you like. I did read about them, they’re name is y/n y/l/n y/a and they live in Virginia.” Aaron swallowed, his mouth feeling dry before saying, “I’d like to see them when they come. If they’re comfortable with it.” Dave nodded and replied, “I’ll ask them when they get here. For now, just try and rest. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll get the nurse.” Aaron nodded and let his eyes slip closed again. He could sense that Dave was keeping things from him, about what he couldn’t tell, but he’d ask in time, for now, he was alive.

y/n entered the hospital again. This time it felt better. They were going to get some answers, hopefully, or at least some information about Agent Hotchern’s condition. They’d answer more questions about that information. After the last few day or so the thought of Mr. Hotchner hadn’t left their mind. y/n went to the receptionist who paged another party in the hospital and after a few minutes, an older man walked into the hallway. y/n could tell that he was Agent Rossi instantly. His clothing and demeanor gave him away, along with the deep circles under his eyes. y/n turned toward the man and extended their hand toward him. Rossi gave y/n a reassuring smile and as he took their hand said, “Hello. I’m Agent Rossi. You must be y/n y/l/n?” y/n nodded yes and said, “Yes Sir. That’s me.” Dave gave a small laugh at being called sir, and gently led y/n to a seat on the far side of the waiting room. They both took a seat and there was a moment of awkward silence as they both made mental observations about the other. Finally, y/n said, “Agnent Rossi, I’m happy to answer any questions you might have about my report, but could you tell me if Mr. Hotchner is alright?” Dave dipped his head and pulled himself together saying, “He’s doing better. He’ll have a hard and long recovery, but he’ll be alright. Hotch has gone through a lot, he’ll make it through this too.” y/n listened thinking about the type of person that can say with confidence after such an ordeal that they would make it though. It seemed like a lot, but Mr. Hotchner was clearly cut from Kevlar. y/n replied, “Thank you for telling me. Now, um, what questions did you have for me? I wrote down some notes to try and jog my memory.” Rossi lifted an eyebrow as y/n pulled a notebook from their mini backpack and flipped to a page that had a neat, color-coded timeline of events. Dave smiled at this before saying, “I would like to look at your notes, but I have some questions of another nature to ask first.”

y/n looked confused about what Rossi had said, and he clarified stating, “I’d just like to know if Aaron said anything to you while you were with him?” y/n let out a breath realizing this was a more personal visit. This was to see how his coworker was, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. y/n felt bad for not having thought of that before now and swallowed, realizing this was going to be another layer they would need to unpack within themselves as well. After this thought had passed, y/n replied softly at first, “We did kind of talk, though I did most of it to keep my mind still.” Rossi nodded encouraging y/n to continue, which they did. “I did ask him where he was going and he said that he was going to see his wife. And that he was sorry for his son. He tried to say more after that but it was all sort of jumbled up.” y/n looked up, fresh emotions welling up in them at the remorse that Mr. Hotchner had shown while he lay dying. There was a glimmer of tears in Dave’s eyes too and y/n moved a hand to his comfortingly and asked. “Agent Rossi?” to check in on him. Dave sniffled and moved a handkerchief under his eyes before squeezing y/n’s hand back replying, “Please, just call me Dave. Aaron’s wife passed a little over a year ago. I, I guess I didn’t know what he would think about, but it would make sense.”

Hearing Dave’s words, a pang of hurt shot through y/n. Suddenly Aaron’s words made more sense. He said he was going home and being sad about it. Jack’s name popped into their mind and y/n asked hopefully, “His son, Jack. He said he had a son. Is he okay? Is Jack with his mom?” Dave closed his eyes and replied reassuringly, “No. Jack is fine. He’s a sweet and hyper kid.” That thought, of Aaron’s son being there for him, made y/n feel better. It was strange for them, to have such intense and strong feelings for a man they hardly knew, but then again, they had been through a lot together. There were a few more minutes of silence as Dave processed and moved on by asking to look at y/n’s notebook and to ask questions for them. Looking at y/n’s notes and the very detailed recount they had written was precise and smart. Not perhaps like a profiler, but somewhat so. That conversation lasted about a half hour and Rossi could see that y/n was tired and he still needed to broach the topic of them seeing Aaron, so to take something off of their plate he began by saying, “y/n this has been very helpful for me, both as Aaron’s coworker and as his friend. I know you’ll need your own time to process and work through all of this but I might need to contact you again by myself or a member of my team. Would it be okay if I left you my number and I got yours?” y/f felt a hitch in their breath thinking that this might be over. All the adrenaline came to a big crash like a wave on the rocks. But it had to end sometime, at least they thought so, so they nodded yes. The pair traded numbers and then Dave said, “y/n, I know this has been a lot, but I was just with Aaron and he asked if he could speak with you if you’re up to it. If not, he’ll fully understand.”

At the suggestion, y/n’s eyes shot up in surprise. Not that they hadn’t been thinking about the man twenty-four-seven since they’d first seen him in the woods, but the idea that he would even want to see them felt like a surprise. Curiosity suddenly turned into apprehension and for a second they thought about running out of the room for some wild reason. But y/n came back to earth and knew that perhaps this would be their only time to see the man they’d helped and it would hopefully make things feel more resolved, more final. And they’d have the peace of mind of knowing that he really was alright. So y/n nodded yes and Dave gave them one of his reassuring dad smiles and got up, leading y/n toward Aroon’s room. He flashed his badge when he came across anyone looking at him funnily. At the door to Hotch’s room, Dave knocked and opened the door slightly saying, “I’ve got a visitor for you, Aaron.” There was a muffled response from inside and then Rossi stood back and said, “I’ll be just outside when you’re finished.” y/n swallowed thickly and stepped into the room.

The space was large enough for a chair or two by the hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment that beeped on a cycle of minutes, keeping time. The lights had been dimmed and as y/n’s eyes adjusted, they took a small step closer toward the bed. Mr. Hotchner was all cleaned up from his blood-soaked state and now that he was visible, y/n couldn't help but notice how striking and attractive he was. y/n pushed that thought aside, it wasn’t the time. His dark eyes met theirs, and y/n said awkwardly, “Hello Mr., I mean Agent Hotchner, Sir.” Hotch let out a half laugh and said replied, “It’s alright, you can call me Mr. Hotchner, or just Aaron is okay.” y/n nodded listening to his deep voice. Different than how it had been in the woods. There was life in this version of him, and it made y/n feel better. y/n took another step forward, not sure what to expect.

Aaron watched y/n move forward. They were young. Younger than a normal person should have to deal with such stress and anxiety. He could see their apprehension even as they stepped close to him. Aaron cleared his throat and said, “Why don’t you have a seat, y/n.” y/n did as he said feeling the authority in his presence even as he was in bed recovering. Of course, he wasn’t directing that toward them, just that that power was there in him. It didn’t surprise y/n that he was someone important in the FBI. y/n sat in the chair closest to Aaron so they could hear him better. y/n wasn’t sure how to act now. They wanted to say they were sorry about his wife. But that was too personal. y/n opted for just asking, “Are you feeling okay?” The words sounded hollow in the face of the pain he had experienced in his life.

Hotch smiled slightly, seeing the struggle in y/n’s eyes. He was glad to see y/n. To really see them and know who they were given how they had kept him calm and feel safe a day ago. Once y/n was seated he replied, “I’ll be okay. It’s just going to take time. I wanted to see how you are doing actually.” y/n’s eyes widened slightly. Shone in the darkness of the room. Taken aback they said, “I’m… okay. I always end up being okay in the end.” Hotch nodded, seeing himself in y/n instantly. Another survivor of a difficult life. It was easy to compartmentalize, and he didn’t want that for them. Not this young. So he said again, “I hear you. But how are you, really feeling?” y/n took a deep breath and tried to suppress the emotions before saying in a shaky voice, “Tired, scared and I don’t know why.” Aaron nodded in understanding. He moved his hand toward y/n, not sure what his intentions were with that movement. Hotch replied, “You don’t have to think about it all right now. But don’t let it out with someone at some point it will eat you up. Do you think you can take this?”

y/n knew that Aaron was asking about just life in general. How overwhelming it could be after something like this. They had dealt with these feelings before, not like this, but close enough for y/n to say, “Yes. I can bounce back.” Hotch knew that response too. The bounce back. He didn’t want to pressure y/n to seek help, he’d be a hypocrite for saying so, but he worried. This person had saved his life and he didn’t want to see them crumble for it. Hotch took a moment and said, “Thank you for being there for me. I wouldn’t have made it without you.” Not really thinking he added, “You made me feel safe in that moment. I didn’t know if I was going to feel that again.” There was a long silence after his statement as they both absorbed his words. The quiet was punctuated by y/n’s quiet response of, “You’re welcome. I’m happy I could be that for you, Aaron.” y/n looked over at Hotch and could see there was something there. A bond, a name whisper on the wind, or a star. It was a flicker for just a moment and it was gone, but they had both felt it, some of the overwhelming feelings they both housed within.

In another moment Aaron said, “I’ll let you go, but I’m sure Dave has given you his number, but tell him to give mine as well. I may not be at my best right now, but if you ever need anything y/n, anything, you can give me a call.” y/n nodded and stood wondering if the last they’d ever see of Aaron Hotchner, and was at least grateful for having crossed paths with him. They brushed their hands over his hand for a moment before smiling, saying “I hope you are well soon, Aaron,” leaving the room. Aaron watched as their figure moved outside and stopped to talk to Dave for a moment then disappeared.

Rossi entered the room and asked, “Do you feel better now?” Hotch nodded and replied, “Yes. Did you give them my number?” Dave laughed and said, “Sure did, office and cell.” Aaron huffed but then said seriously, “y/n will need protection for a few weeks at least.” Rossi replied, “Already on it. Or Garcia is on it. Knowing her, y/n will be getting flowers and chocolate for life.” Hotch laughed at the truth in that statement and felt better. Yes is sucked, this sucked, and his body hurt like hell, but he was alive and things would get better. Aaron’s mind flickered back to his fight with Sean and he laid back on the bed with a groan. Dave watched and eventually, Hotch said with his eyes still closed, “Would you call Sean for me?” Rossi had Sean’s number in case of emergencies with Aaron, Jack, or Jessica. Rossi had everybody in the team's close family on that list. Dave couldn’t help but say, “Why do I have to call him, if you do will he throw his phone out the window or something?” Hotch scoffed and replied, “Just about, but I need to talk to him.” Rossi understood and took out his phone and dialed Aaron’s younger brother before handing the line over to Aaron.

Aaron had something planned to say, but Sean beat him to it saying, “I’m sorry, Aaron. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. You don’t deserve it.” Hotch let out a breath and replied as lightly as possible, “You bet I didn’t. But I want to apologize too. I got hot-headed…” Rossi motioned for Aaron to ask if he wanted him to leave the room or not. Aaron nodded his head no, and Dave settled in his chair. As Sean and Aaron spoke, and attempted in their own ways to make amends, Aaron knew that things would get better. There was family, be it Jack, Sean, or the team, and there were people out there willing to help. The image y/n smiling down at him filled him with a strange warmth, and he let the image and feeling linger as Sean went on about his day.

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drabbles-mc · 1 year ago

Text

A Bet's A Bet

Rick Flag x F!Reader

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo Square: lost a bet

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, pining

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: I love him, what else can I say? 😂 I love to see a gruff, grumpy man squirm a little bit lmao.

Suicide Squad Taglist: @garbinge @beardburnsupersoldiers @words-and-seeds @artemiseamoon (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

“This is ridiculous,” Rick muttered as he picked the shot glass up from the surface of the bar.

You laughed as you watched him drink it, his head tilted back for a moment. He hardly even cringed. “I mean, you sort of set yourself up for it.” The offended look on his face was impossible to miss and it only made you laugh harder. “What? He’s literally so good at shooting people that they let him back out of prison to do it. Did you really think that you were going to beat him?”

“You don’t think I could?”

You shook your head before taking a sip of your beer. “I think that remains to be seen.” You flagged down the bartender and asked them to bring Rick another shot. You saw the look he gave you and laughed. “What? The bet was two shots and one—”

“I know, I know,” he grumbled, begrudgingly downing the second shot before looking back over at you again, “Just didn’t think that you would sell me out like that.”

You hummed in amusement even though you knew that he most likely couldn’t hear you over the noise of the bar. “I’m here to keep you honest, Flag.”

The shot glass made a loud clattering sound as he practically tossed it back onto the bar. “I think I might be the only honest one here.” He heard the dramatic gasp you let out at his statement and he laughed before looking over at you. “Yea. Including you.”

Your offended façade only lasted a moment longer before you started laughing again. “Fuck off. If you didn’t want me here, I wouldn’t be.”

“You know I don’t pick—”

“You don’t get to pick anyone from the roster in Belle Reve,” you pointed at him with the beer bottle in your hand, “but you do get to pick who’s gonna be on your team if they’re not behind bars.” His silence spoke volumes and you laughed in triumph. “And here I am yet again!”

“Shut up and drink your beer,” he said, shaking his head like you couldn’t spot the way the ends of his mouth were beginning to curl into a smile.

“Alright,” you took another swig, “but when I’m done, you gotta—”

“I know what I gotta,” he cut you off as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the edge of the bar.

“You make it sound so unbearable.” You couldn’t help but to laugh at his dramatics.

He turned around so that he was facing the dance floor. Leaning, he rested back against the bar. He spoke to you even though his eyes were scanning the rest of the bar and the dancefloor to keep an eye on the rest of your team.

“How long you known me?” he asked, still not looking at you.

You laughed as you maneuvered to copy his position. “Too fuckin’ long at this point, I think,” you joked.

“Right,” he agreed with a nod before finally looking over at you. “And in all that time, when the hell have you ever seen me dance?”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but then you snapped it shut again when you realized that you really hadn’t ever seen it. Not even way back when you were all deployed together and had downtime to fuck around between ops. Things got crazy when the whole squad had too much time on their hands, but no matter the volume of the music or the number of drinks that were passed around, Rick never danced. He got up to plenty of other ridiculous and irresponsible things, but not that.

“Holy shit,” you finally said with a laugh.

His lips flattened into a thin line and he have a single nod. “Yea.”

“Wait a second,” you shut your eyes tight for one moment as your brain started putting all of the puzzle pieces together, creating more of the insane picture that was Colonel Rick Flag, “you’re telling me that we’ve been out here, doing all of this insane shit, and you’ve never—”

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked.

“Because I can’t believe it.” You shook your head. “Out here ready to be murdered by an alien or something when you’ve never even danced.”

“Tell me how those two things are related?”

“Alright,” you said as you shook your head. Bringing your beer bottle to your lips, you downed the rest of it in one go before setting it back on the bar and looking over at Rick. “Let’s go. Come on.”

You started to walk away from the bar and towards the dancefloor. You only got a step and a half away before you noticed that Rick wasn’t following you. You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. Turning back around, you reached and grabbed onto his hand.

“Let’s go!” you said with a laugh.

Rick huffed, but he let you pull him along. If he really wanted nothing to do with it, he would’ve just planted his feet and been done with it. He dragged his feet a little bit but he still went. You felt it the moment it went from you just grabbing onto his hand to pull him along to him grasping your hand back. His fingers hooked around yours, the callouses of his palm rough but still warm against yours. You were glad that your back was mostly to him and that he couldn’t see the stupid little grin on your face over it.

“This is so fuckin’ stupid,” he muttered when the two of you got to the middle of the dancefloor.

You laughed, knowing that it was loud enough that no one else probably heard him, but you certainly did. “And yet,” you stepped in so you were pressed close to him, “you’re still out here.”

He scoffed. “A bet’s a bet.”

You were giddy. “Very honorable of you, Colonel.” There were a few beats where neither of you said anything, neither of you moved, and you couldn’t help but to laugh. Resting your hands flat against his chest, you leaned in so that he’d hear you without having to yell. “I think the bet was more than just you getting out here, Flag.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m aware.”

“It’s not that bad. Promise.”

He looked at everyone around the two of you. It was like no one even noticed that he was there, which he would be eternally grateful for after he survived this. He scanned the place, and realized that the only person watching him besides you, was DuBois, the person who had sent him out onto the dancefloor in the first place. Before he watched long enough to see the rest of the team crumble into fits of laughter at his expense, his eyes were back on you. You seemed as unfazed about this as you were about everything else.

“I don’t think you were part of the bet, by the way,” he mentioned as you danced.

You laughed. “Yea, ‘cause you were gonna come out here alone. Sure.” You could see the way he was shaking his head and even though you couldn’t hear him with all the noise in the bar, you were sure that he was mumbling and cursing under his breath. Bringing your hands from his chest to his sides, you forced him to start swaying, trying not to laugh at the confused and disgruntled look on his face. “God you are the stiffest man alive.”

He tried to relax, but now he felt even more on-edge than before. Something about the warmth of your palms soaking through his shirt, noticeable even with how heavy the air already was with the bodies packed onto the dancefloor.

“Liked it better when I was getting shot at,” he finally said.

You laughed, shaking your head before stepping in close enough for your forehead to drop against him, resting just below his shoulder for a moment as you laughed. Peeling yourself away, you left your hands on his sides as you said, “Maybe we should’ve gotten you a third shot.”

“You’re enjoyin’ this way too much.”

“Watching you squirm?” you asked. When he nodded, you could only nod right back. “Just a little, yea.”

It took longer than it should’ve for him to ease into it. And even when he did, he was still awkward, still stiff. Which really as about what you’d expected. You couldn’t deny that it was funny watching Rick Flag trying to force himself to loosen up and have a good time. It’d apparently been too long since he’d really tried to do anything of the sort.

You kept yourself pinned close to him. You knew that he wouldn’t on his own, so you took the initiative and placed his hands on your waist, letting yours come to rest on his shoulders in return. It was amusing to you to see how hesitant he was about it. The same man who had dragged you when you were bloodied and beaten, the same man who you had to cram into the world’s smallest, most uncomfortable spaces with to keep yourselves alive, was suddenly skittish when your closeness had background music to go with it.

Rick was only on the hook for one dance. That was the bet. Mostly because no one thought that he would actually get out there and follow through on it. You couldn’t say that you blamed them, but Rick had never been the kind to back down from a challenge or an order. Or a bet, apparently.

When the song changed, one flowing easily into the next, you thought that he was immediately going to turn tail and run. You’d understand it—you could still feel the slightly anxious and awkward energy coming off of him. Something completely foreign given the source, the same person who didn’t flinch running into a firefight beside you. But despite the small, lingering traces of discomfort, he stayed. Because even though his muscles were still a bit tense, even though he still hadn’t quite figured out what he was like to have a sense of rhythm, he liked the way it felt to have his hands on the small of your back. He liked the way the tips of your fingers reached just past where the collar of his t-shirt stopped.

He hadn’t even felt those thoughts creeping up on him until it was too late. It felt like one second he was looking around to make sure the two of you hadn’t lost anyone, and the next second he was looking back to you and the wind got sucked clean out of his lungs. And you were so unbothered, so unaware. He hoped that it would stay that way.

Not that you’d been very far away from him to begin with, but suddenly you felt so much closer. He could feel the press of your entire body against his, the way that your legs somehow ended up slotted together. His hips were pinned to yours, his arms wrapped tight enough around you so that he was almost completely on-beat with you. At that point, though, he didn’t even care about the rest of it. The racing thoughts in his head were outrun only by the rapid beat of his heart. For the first time all night there was only one thing pulling his focus, and it was you as you stared back at him. You looked just about ready to completely melt into him and his entire mind blanked out one that thought entered his head.

You saw the shift in his eyes, but it was a look that you weren’t familiar with, one that you couldn’t place. Your hand that had been resting in the space where his neck met his shoulder slid up, palm on the side of his throat, fingertips grazing along his jaw. You tilted your head slightly, eyebrows raising to ask the question that you didn’t want to yell loudly in the midst of the club. His response was an equally wordless smile and small nod. You felt your breath get caught in your throat as you looked at him. It was impossible not to feel the way that the two of you were each leaning in closer to the other.

If it hadn’t been so loud on the dancefloor, you were sure that Rick would’ve been able to hear the pounding of your heart inside your chest. In all of the years that the two of you had known each other, all the late nights, long talks, and close quarters, this was the first time that you felt like things were about to cross a line into territory that you wouldn’t be able to backpedal from. You were shocked at how much you didn’t mind the thought of it.

He was close enough to you that you could feel his breath against your skin. Your heart was about to burst clean out of your chest and your lips were just about to touch his. You almost couldn’t believe that it was about to happen.

And then, before it could, you heard the tell-tale sounds of a fight breaking out on the other side of the bar. You didn’t even have to turn around and look to know that it was your team. Some of the most lethal metahumans in the world finally got to have a night out and they just couldn’t fucking handle it.

Rick’s attention snapped over to the noise immediately, the dazed look on his face was quickly replaced with annoyance. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he practically groaned. His arms dropped back to his sides, hands leaving he small of your back leaving an emptiness that neither of you liked or wanted to think too deeply on.

You turned and followed his stride, both of you weaving through the tightly paced groups of people the best that you could. You had no idea what someone said to Peacemaker to get him to swing, but you really didn’t care at that point either. It was bad enough when one team member went rogue, it was worse when it turned into one of the few moments that everyone decided to be on the same side about something and everyone else got involved. You expected this kind of stuff from Peacemaker, but seeing Harley about to smash a beer bottle over someone’s head definitely made you a little extra concerned.

“Alright! Alright!” Rick wasn’t even attempting to hide his annoyance as he started pulling people apart. “Overstayin’ our welcome. Let’s get outta here.”

You caught out of the corner of your eye that DuBois was about to grab his gun and you quickly put your hand on his arm to stop him. He looked at you, peeved at the entire thing. You shook your head. “Not in here.”

He shook his head but he still followed your lead. He wasn’t that dedicated to picking a fight. Once you had him agreeing with you, it became much easier to round everyone up and get them out of the bar. Rick was practically dragging people by their collars but it worked nonetheless. You all had about seven hours before you would get in the chopper and brought back home. With the way things had unfolded so far, some of you might at least be able to use a couple of those to sleep.

Everyone’s rooms were all grouped together. It was a crappy little motel off the beaten path, but it was better than nothing. You were surprised that Waller got you all set up with anything at all, honestly. You’d take what you could get. You and Rick opted to share a room, the foot separating your two queen beds seemed odd now in a way that it never would have before.

“Everyone all locked up in their rooms?” you asked, half-joking, half-serious when Rick came into your room.

He chuckled, nodding. “Yea. All of ‘em are in time-out till we get back to Belle Reve.”

“Yea,” you rolled your eyes as you plopped down and sat on the edge of your bed, “because it’s not like prison is a time-out for them or anything.” You paused, watching as Rick flopped onto the bed that you weren’t sitting on, dragging his hands down his face. “They tell you what happened?”

“No,” he mumbled through his fingers, “but I didn’t fuckin’ ask, either.”

You laughed. “Didn’t wanna know the drama?”

His reply came with no hesitation. “Nope.”

You were shaking your head, helpless to do anything besides stare over at him. You waited, wondering if he was going to say anything about what had happened at the bar with the two of you. With the chaos dealt with and everyone safely stowed away in their rooms, you figured that this was going to be the closest thing that the two of you got to privacy for a while.

There must’ve been a graceful way to bring it up, a way that wouldn’t be awkward or jarring. You just didn’t know what it was. You kept your mouth shut, twisting your fingers into the blanket that rested on top of your bed.

Rick’s eyes were still closed, he was still laying on his bed with his legs dangling off the very end of it because he hadn’t scooted up enough before collapsing onto it. Even with all of that, he still felt you staring at him.

“What?” he asked, not turning to look at you as he did.

You shook his head like he could see you, because it felt like he could. Clearing your throat, you forced out, “Nothing.”

The end of his mouth lifted into a smirk. “Liar.”

It eased some of the tension you were feeling, the laughter that came out of you making you feel a little better about it all. “Shut up.”

Opening his eyes, he turned and looked over at you. “What is it?”

You shook your head. “Nothing, really. Just,” you sighed, “wild night.”

“I mean,” he chuckled, propping himself up on his elbows, “thinkin’ about everything else we’ve been through? Really not…you know…”

You let out a soft laugh, one that was quieter than you wanted it to be. “That’s true.”

“Look—”

“About the bar—”

You both started talking at the same time, both of you stopping when you heard the other. There were a few seconds of awkward silence before you both started laughing. You nodded for him to continue, beating him to the punch.

“Look,” he started again with a laugh, “I was just gonna say…” he trailed off, “I don’t really know what I was gonna fuckin’ say,” he admitted with a laugh.

“I think,” you said, a joking lilt already in your tone, “that considering you’ve never attempted to have any rhythm in your life, you really didn’t do that bad.”

He laughed, shaking his head at you. “Shut up.”

“I mean there’s room for improvement, for sure,” you nettled him just to get another laugh out of him, “but I thought it was going to go much worse.”

“Wow,” he sat up the rest of the way, hands braced on the edge of the bed so he was nearly mirroring the position that you were in, “thanks for the endorsement.”

“It’s an honest one, at least.”

He shook his head but he was still smiling. “Always is with you.”

You figured while you were in the vein of being honest, you might as well go for broke. “I also thought you were gonna kiss me,” the words tumbled out, rushed but clear enough. You chuckled nervously. “You know, before Peacemaker banged some guy’s face off the table.”

Rick’s eyes were still widened from the first part of your statement. He knew that it was his turn to say something, but he couldn’t find the right words. “I thought I was too.”

Warmth spread across your chest at his words, a smile instantly breaking out across your face. Your nerves didn’t dissipate completely, but there was a sense of security in it all that you hadn’t felt before. He could see it, too, the way that your body eased. He was up on his feet again before he could think to stop himself. It only took a couple strides for him to wind up next to you, the mattress sinking slightly beneath his weight as he sat down. He was close enough for the outside of your thigh to be pressed up against his.

“Rick—”

You didn’t get the rest of your sentence out as he leaned in and brought his lips to yours. Nothing you could’ve said would have had any shot in hell at being better than the feeling of him kissing you. You could still taste the faintest hint of liquor off of him from the bar, could feel his stubble beneath the pads of your fingers as they pressed against his jaw. He grabbed onto your waist, his grip firm, like he was determined not to let you or this moment slip away from him a second time.

When the two of you finally came back up for air, you didn’t pull away very far. His forehead was still pressed against yours, chests flush as he continued to hold onto your hip. You smiled, thumb grazing over his cheek as you tried to soak in the moment for all that it was worth.

“You’re better at kissing than you are at dancing, you know,” you finally said, whispering without quite meaning to, like what the two of you were sharing was a secret just for the both of you to know about.

He laughed quietly. “Thank god for that, huh?”

You smiled wider, shaking your head before pulling his lips back to yours. “C’mere.”

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