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keerysfreckles · 3 months

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falling in — steve harrington

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when a burnt down mall sends y/n to steve

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, steve got his ass beat (who's surprised), s3 spoilers duh, pure fluff/comfort, blood and injuries mentioned, pretty detailed makeout session

a/n: for my wife @keerysbrowneyes ily

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

y/n sat nervously at the edge of her couch in her small living room. she watched her small flickering tv at the other end of the room with nothing but worry.

helicopters roaring, a blazing fire and multiple reporters surround the loved starcourt mall. y/n's heart almost burst out of her chest when one reporter stated most people made it out safely.

steve harrington was the first person to flood her mind. the girl hasn't heard of him for the past three days, which only made her nerves skyrocket.

"sources say scoops ahoy workers were at the scene, with multiple young kids and parents. . ."

y/n was out the door, struggling to put on her other shoe while running to her car.

—

y/n didn't even let the car come to a complete stop before she was running past concerned townspeople, reporters and cops. she easily slid under the caution tape and fit in between two firetrucks, not bothering to listen to the cops and other authorities yelling for her to stop.

y/n looked from left to right. she first saw nancy and jonathan, and robin sitting in the back of one ambulance. will was with his mother, with el and mike besides them. lucas was comforting max. she looked at the last ambulance and saw steve.

as soon as their eyes met, time slowed. steve dropped the blanket from his shoulders and y/n's worn out converse hit the asphalt again.

steve stood from the ambulance, and for the first time tonight a smile broke out onto his face. he didn't care it was hurting his eye.

his arms are wide open once y/n reaches him. hers instantly wrap around his shoulders as he lifts her off the ground.

"you're okay," y/n lets the tears fall from her eyes, her voice is strained. "you're here, you're really okay."

steve kisses the side of her head before setting her back on the ground, however neither of them let go of each other.

"i thought i lost you," y/n admits.

steve chuckles, "you could never get rid of me that easily."

y/n leans back, her eyes roaming over the boy in front of her. she sees the large bruise surrounding his swollen eye, and the tiny cuts on his lips.

steve copies her actions, not believing the girl in his arms is really here. this feels too much like a dream that he didn't want to wake up from.

y/n puts her hand gently on steve's cheek just as a tear falls from his right eye. his voice is soft and broken, "can you take me home?"

y/n nods immediately, and carefully takes his hand in hers to lead them both to her car. they're stopped briefly by a cop, to which they explain y/n would be taking steve home.

they sit in the car for a moment, while an abba song plays quietly over the radio. y/n leans forward to turn it off. she didn't think steve was in the mood to dance to anything, let alone listen to a happy pop song.

"are you okay?" y/n knew it was a stupid question to ask, but she had to ask anyway.

steve only nods, as he wipes his cheeks as more tears fall. y/n simply gives him her hand. his rough hand holds onto it the whole drive back to y/n's small one bed-one bath house.

"wait, i thought you were taking me home," steve announces once he watches her turn down the wrong street.

"you really think i'd let you stay home alone after whatever you went through?"

steve shrugs.

"how hard did they hit you?" y/n lets out an airy laugh, which steve reciprocates.

y/n looks over to the passenger side after parking on the street in front of her dark red door.

"thank you," steve's voice fills the silence of the car.

the two walk out of the and in the housr wordlessly. they both leave their shoes in a pile by the front door, and steve follows y/n to her room. he sees she left the tv and lights on, guessing she left in a hurry.

"you take a shower okay? then if you want i can help with the other cuts."

steve gratefully accepts y/n's offer. he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding once he sits on the edge of y/n's bed. she comes out of the bathroom after starting the shower, and making sure it wasn't too hot.

steve holds his arms open again, making y/n walk towards him. she stands between his thighs as he rests his head against her chest, hearing the pulse of her heartbeat. the girl leans down to place a kiss on his matted curls.

"i'll be here when you get out," y/n whispers into his hair.

as steve showers, he's careful when he reaches and cuts or bruises, and can't help but let more tears fall. by the end of it he couldn't tell if it was tears or water running down his face.

he's quick to dry off and doesn't mind the water falling back onto his face and neck from his wet hair.

he noticed his dried bloody work uniform was replaced by a pair of sweatpants, a tshirt and boxers. he smiled at the thought of y/n keeping a pair of his clothes here for him.

steve leaves the bathroom and is met with y/n coming back into her room with a small basket in her hands.

"hey," she smiles towards steve, "how are you feeling?"

"that was a must needed shower," he chuckles.

"what's that for?" he points to the wooven basket now placed on the bed.

"a couple things to help with your cuts."

after steve came over to y/n's house their junior year, with the aftermath of a fight with jonathan byers, the girl knew to keep a first aid kit just for steve.

y/n instructs for steve to lay on her bed. he gladly let a loud sigh leaves his lips once his back hits the mattress, making y/n chuckle.

she sits on the left side of steve, making her be in the middle of the bed. she easily leans over him to turn on the lamp placed on the night stand. steve can't help but blush at the close proximity.

"these are just wipes, to get any extra dried blood off," y/n starts walking him through the steps.

she's careful when wiping around the cuts on his lips, and is surprised he only winces once.

she moves to his hairline and bruise covering his eye. the swelling has gone down drastically, and she can now look at both of his beautiful brown eyes.

steve keeps his hands folded on his stomach while y/n takes care of him. she goes to the next step and takes peroxide and cotton balls to the cuts.

after the cotton meets his lips he grabs y/n's wrist. she mutters out many apologies, not meaning to hurt steve more.

"it's okay," he stops her rambling apologies, "just hurts way more than i thought it would."

y/n continues treating his wounds. every so often steve's eyes would float to her features. to her concerned eyes, crinkling at the corners. or to her hair that kept falling over her ear, to which she always put back, yet it never stayed.

y/n finally takes a warm towel, steve guessed was from the dryer, and she dabbed it over his lips and eye. she watched his shoulders relax as she held it over his eye.

"are you alright?" she felt like she asked the question a million times tonight.

steve nods, "never better."

another comfortable silence fills the room. steve now sits up, making y/n bring the towel to her lap. steve breaks the silence.

"did you always have that freckle?" his thumb traces the light freckle on her cheek. she blushes from the contact. before she answers, steve moves his hand to fix the strands of hair that have fallen in front of her ear. his hand goes back to holding her cheek.

y/n's eyes move between both of steve's brown ones.

"steve," y/n warns in a whisper as he starts moving closer to her.

"i want you y/n. thats the one thing i've never been more sure of tonight."

his soft words leave a tickling breath over y/n's lips.

y/n makes the move to lean forward. her right hand reaches to hold onto steve's bicep as her lips collide with his. the kiss only lasts for a few seconds before y/n pulls away. her cheeks are flushed as she sees steve's widened pupils.

steve simply pulls her back to him with the hand that was still on her cheek. he turns his head to deepen the kiss, and he can't help but smile against y/n's lips after feeling her hand move to his neck. she grips the damp hair, threading her fingers through it.

steve's left hand goes to y/n's lower back as he moves her to lay down. he's now hovering over her, with his thighs falling between hers.

the two pull away, both with blown pupils, flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

"do you want me to stay–"

"yes."

steve couldn't even finish his question before y/n answers quickly and pulls him down tp kiss him again, with much more hunger than before.

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thewulf · 6 months

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Emotionally Involved || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - hi! can you write a hotch angsty / fluff piece based off the episode of s3 ep 20 where they go to NY and have to work with Kate Joyner and Hotch treats reader like how he did to Morgan and pushes reader aside bc even after reader being there for him after his divorce with Hayley and thinking there was something more but then ends in fluff? :)

A/N: Love me some Aaron Hotchner!! Here's a good old angst to comfort :) Thank you for the request anon! Also, sorry this took so long. Lost my CM inspo but found it again. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 3.9k+

“New York baby!” Morgan grinned giving your shoulders a squeeze as the two of you walked off the jet.

Shaking your head, you followed him down the steps and towards the SUV’s towards the end of the runway, “You’re far too excited Derek. It’s not like we’re allowed to have fun when we’re here.” You tried not to dampen his parade too hard, but you also didn’t want to get too excited to be here. The team had a job to do, and you needed to be on your A game, Hotch had made that perfectly clear to the team.

“Let a man dream sweetheart.” He threw you a wink before walking ahead of you towards the SUV.

The ride to the precinct was uneventful as the team chatted about the unsub and the profile. When you got there you nearly gasped when your eyes landed on Kate. She was a Haley look alike, that was for sure.

Her eyes never seemed to leave yours as she greeted the team and went through the case. You stood back as her looks turned to mere glares. The team was even picking up on it as Spencer nudged your side and sent you a questioning glance. You merely shrugged your shoulders letting him you didn’t know why she was acting so cold towards you.

The team got to the newest crime scene with concerned citizens watching all around. It truly never got easier to see the distressed faces and worry rampant throughout a community. A dead body laid there with a mere tarp covering his or her indecency from the crowd. A bullet to the head. It truly never got easier.

When you looked up at the camera and the position of the body on the street you shook your head, “With the placement of that camera, odds are the only view we’ll get of him is the back of his head.” You noticed speaking out loud as you were trained to do. Observe your surroundings and bounce off ideas with the team.

Kate wrinkled her nose before giving you a rather unfriendly look, “Let’s not be too quick to decide what we do or don’t have.” She spoke abruptly before walking off. All you could do was bite your tongue and give her a curious look before somebody spoke up from beside you.

“The duchess at work has spoken.” The cop from the precinct snickered before walking off leaving just you and Hotch behind.

Bewildered you just gave him a look, “Did I do something?” She was giving you and you only an attitude while the rest of the team caught a pass.

Hotch sighed before coming out with it, “FBI Brass has made it clear to her that if she doesn’t figure out this case she’ll be reassigned. And you are at the top of the list to replace her.”

You were sure you looked like a deer in headlights at that moment. You? You were just a low-level profiler who’d been with the team for a few years but nothing major. You were good, not great, at your job. You’d never really put much thought into promoting out of your job anytime soon. You loved where you were, the team, Aaron as your boss. It worked. And worked well.

“You’re joking.” Was all that spilled out of your mouth earning a tight-lipped head shake from Aaron.

He looked a little annoyed before answering, “Why should you be surprised Agent? You’re good at your job. People notice that.”

You shook your head, “I thought the Bureau was thrilled to have stolen her away from Scotland Yard?” Still not buying it fully.”

Your boss just shook his head clearly uncomfortable with the whole ordeal, “I don’t know. I guess the politics here are different. And as you can see, she doesn’t really pull the punches.” He gave you a curt look before walking away leaving just you standing there under the camera. What the hell just happened?

You stook there as the group reformed talking about the Tarot Card the unsub left leaving your mind reeling. Why in the hell would you ever be on a list to replace anybody? Was Aaron talking you up that much? Did Strauss notice you?

When you got back to the precinct Garcia dropped the bomb on the team. There was more than one unsub. The team was left speechless as discussion ensued.

Hotch spoke up setting the new plan in action, “Dave you and Reid talk to the agents here. Y/L/N and Prentiss, brief the police when each shift comes on duty tomorrow. JJ and Morgan you’re with me.”

You frowned not liking where the case was heading, “I think we should get out in the streets Hotch.” He’d taught you to speak up when you thought things weren’t right, so you decided to. You were a team after all.

Kate shook her head though, “I brought you here to create a profile.”

You noticed your team mates awkwardly looking away trying to avoid the situation as best as they could. They sensed Joyner’s dislike towards you. But you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut. You’d thought Hotch would have your back, but you were surely mistaken, “Which we can give in the morning, and they can share with the afternoon shift.” You spoke back to her. It must’ve been more aggressive than you thought because Hotch just gave you a set of wide eyes as if to say, ‘back off’.

“We’ve allocated every extra man we have. This is New York City. It’s not like a few more people is going to blanket the city.” She spoke to you as if you were a child. A mere stupid child. You’d have normally shut up there, but your pride was hurt, you could admit that. She was attacking you, you had to attack back.

“I understand it’s a long shot Kate. But these guys hit mid-day.” You started to plead with her, trying to have her reason with you, “we could be strategic. Target INGRESS and EGRESS to particular neighborhoods. Position us near 14th, 26th, 59th…” Kate just looked away annoyed as hell at you. But you had to challenge her, there were lives at stake and you couldn’t stand it.

“Y/L/N, it’s not your call.” Hotch stopped you giving you the disappointed boss look. You gave him your best disappointed look right back at him. He was acting weird. You thought you knew the man. But maybe he was down bad for the Haley look alike. Maybe you weren’t as close as you thought you were. Some profiler you were.

Your pride and now ego was trampled upon as that just went down in front of your entire team. Giving a sigh through your nose all you could do was grab Emily’s arm and walk away. You had a police debrief to do anyway.

She just gave you a look as you walked away from the group, “What the hell was that?” She asked once the two of you were far enough away so that they couldn’t hear.

You shook your head, “Hell if I know. Let’s get this over with.”

She pursed her lips, “You good?”

Nodding your head, you opened the door to the room where they were all gathered, “All good Emily. Let’s deliver the profile.”

After delivering the profile and avoiding the curious looks from your all too nosey coworkers you found yourself walking back into the central office of the precinct with Rossi. You heard Hotch on the phone with somebody mumbling something incoherent.

“What’s going on?” You asked once you got close enough. Rossi grabbed at the back of your arm sensing the bad blood between you and Kate who was standing right next to Hotch.

“We’ve got eyes on one of them. Subway platform between 59th and Lex.” Hotch spoke clearly trying his best to stay calm. Calm always won out in situations like this.

But your heart dropped, “59th? We could’ve been right there.” You pleaded more with Hotch than with Kate. He simply avoided your gaze and looked towards Kate who looked frustrated with the entire ordeal.

“He’s got a gun! He shot her!” You heard Garcia through the phone.

Your heart broke even further. Did her dislike towards you get that poor woman killed? You looked down at the ground as chaos erupted around you.

“We lost him.” You heard the disappointed voice of Garcia through the line.

Frustration bubbled over as you let out a sigh, “We could’ve had that guy.”

“Even if we were on the platform. Odds are he would’ve gotten away.” Kate spoke up sensing she needed to say something, the case was beginning to run away from her.

“Maybe! But it was worth taking a shot.” You fired back frustrated that she wasn’t listening to you. You were used to working with a team that bounced ideas off of each other. Sure, Hotch made the final call, but he always included your ideas as a consideration, always. Kate just straight up would rather ignore you than consider that you might have a decent idea.

“We had every available man on the street!” She snapped back at you losing a bit of her regular professionalism. At least you were getting under her skin a bit.

“And we suggested to you that you use this very capable team.” Your voice was laced with irritation as you tried to break through to her.

But Aaron stepped in. And again, it hurt when he took her side over yours, “Second guessing doesn’t do us any good right now agent.” He looked at you, not towards her, you.

Fuck it. Might as well let him have it now, “Hotch, how in the hell am I supposed to look at these cops in the eye and tell them that we’re actually here to help them?” Your voice was laced with venom as you let your emotions take over. Fuck professionalism when people were dying because a woman didn’t like you.

“We’re here to present a profile, that’s what we need to do.” He looked at you so coldly you wanted to walk away. You might say something that could damage the relationship you’d managed to cultivate with him.

You couldn’t stop your fiery tongue that usually worked out in your favor, “I said to put us at those express stops, 14th, 26th, 59th and that’s exactly where they hit.” You tried to reason with your boss who was toeing the line.

He raised his voice needing you to tone it down, “It’s not your place to have this discussion Y/L/N.”

You raised an eyebrow in defiance towards your boss, “My place?” You noticed Kate looking the other way. She looked uncomfortable.

“You need to back off.” His voice was laced with that same venom you’d just spit at him.

You started walking backwards shaking your head, “We’ve got seven bodies Hotch.”

“Which is exactly why we need to stay focused.” He didn’t miss a beat as he kept his eyes locked on yours.

You did what he didn’t expect though. You cracked a smile. Maybe you were a little jealous, but you had to call out the tone deaf man, “Focused?” You walked forward so only he and Kate could hear, “From where I’m standing, all your only focus is on her Hotch.” Kate shook her head not really believing her ears.

“Take a walk, now.” He spit at you.

You simply nodded, “Sure, boss.” You waved to Rossi who looked equally as stunned at what was happening. He’d never seen you act so defiant. But then again, he’d never seen Hotch wrapped around one woman’s fingers so easily.

You walked right out of the precinct and down to a Bodega frustrated beyond belief. Unbelievable. Maybe you’d just torched your relationship with your boss, but he was being a real fucking dick to you. You were also being a real fucking asshole right back to him and her. You get what you give you suppose.

You’d found your way to your hotels bar getting yourself a nice cocktail and chatting with the bartender. You weren’t planning on going back to work that night, anyway, might as well get a little fucked up. Have some of the fun Derek so desperately wanted. But in the end you couldn’t. Wouldn’t. You were still on the job.

But you were interrupted on your first drink. Rossi spotted you taking a seat right next to you. You would’ve kept your mouth shut had it not been for the three drinks coursing through your system.

“I know.” You sighed as he sat down, “I was out of line.” You admitted knowing you were still partially at stake for the events that unfolded.

“You get a little too emotionally involved sometimes. I know the feeling.” He stated waving the bartender down for his own drink. Rossi was like the dad of the team for everybody, especially to you though. He’d taken you right under his wing once he’d joined the team. The two of you worked together well and he had a sense of duty to you. He needed to check in on his young buck.

You huffed looking up to him, “I just felt like Hotch was taking her side.”

“There are no sides here.” He stated simply watching you curiously. Did he know of the massive crush you were harboring towards the older man? You’d been so damn good at hiding it that it’d be a shame if it came out now.

You nodded your head, “I know Rossi.”

He didn’t let up, “Word is. They have an eye on you if SSA Joyner gets canned.” He stated simply. Your eyes went wide as this was brought up for the second time in a few hours on this case. First from Hotch, not from him, “People talk. But if she were to get fired it’d be because we didn’t solve this case.” He knew that’d be all you needed. You were competitive. Just like him.

“Rossi, I hope you’re not saying you think I want her to fail.” You took a bit of offense to that.

He shook his head, “Of course not. But I’ve never seen you push a superior like that before.” You raised your eyebrows thinking about what he said before he continued, “So, would you take the job?”

You shook your head quickly, “I don’t know. It’d be nice to be the one making the calls…” You spoke out loud trying to think.

“And dealing with the politics of running a field office?” He threw that question right back at you, “Doesn’t seem like you.”

“The B.A.U. wears people out Rossi.” You admitted quietly while sipping on your drink, “Look at Gideon. He was the best. And in the end, he ran away.” You looked forward and not at the man who was staring holes into the side of your head, “Hotch hasn’t even thought about cracking a smile in over a damn year! That man had to take a personal day just so he can have a conversation with Jack.” You groaned clearly frustrated, “What about you?” You asked, having to know what he thought. You’d just laid it all down on the line clear as day, “How many times have you been married Rossi?” You finally looked back up to see him nodding along with your rant.

“I get it. But I’ll make you a deal. If I think you’re losing it I’ll pull you out myself. But right now. I see someone who wants to get back on the job.” He looked down at the cocktail, “Or is there another reason you’ve gotten it nonalcoholic?” You looked down eyeing the receipt that exposed you so easily. He walked away patting your shoulder wanting you to follow him.

You’d suck it up. For the job and for Aaron. The walk back to the precinct was silent. Your heart was pounding as you walked into the room with the both of them, “Listen, about earlier…” You were looking at Kate, not Hotch, Kate.

She shook her head looking almost embarrassed herself, “You spoke your mind. I respect it. Let’s move on.” She gave you a half-baked smile, good enough for you.

When the case was solved it was too late for the pilot to take off, so the team went back to the hotel to prepare for an early flight home. No matter the time though you were always wound up after a case was solved so you made your way to the hotel bar that was open into the late night, thank goodness. This time you weren’t worried about being on the clock.

“You did well.” The familiar husky voice of your boss sent shivers up your energy depleted body that was still coursing with adrenaline.

Your eyes flicked up to the man you had yet to apologize to, “Thanks Hotch.” You looked away from him quickly before continuing, “I’m sorry about today, I didn’t mean to…”

He cut you off for the second time. This time much more gently, “It’s okay Y/L/N. It’s nice to see you so… passionate.” He almost broke into that rare Hotch grin you rarely saw since the divorce with Haley.

You huffed slightly not enjoying being teased by the man, “I just…”

“I know.” He must’ve had a thing for interrupting you because he kept on doing it, “I didn’t disagree with you, you know. It wasn’t our time or place. I didn’t want to step on her toes. It was touch and go there.” He admitted while taking the beer he had ordered from the bartender, “And then the explosion.” He paused trying to find the words letting you interrupt him.

You gave him a knowing smirk this time, “Are you trying to apologize to me Hotch?”

He bit his lip not having a damn clue in how he was affecting you rather severely, “I’m trying to say there are no hard feelings agent.”

You raised your eyebrows feeling somewhat daring. He approached you after all, “Agent?”

Rolling his eyes he gave you the smallest smile, “Y/N.”

You hummed finishing off your own beer, “That’s more like it Aaron.”

You, just like him, had no fucking clue what you did to him. You calling him Aaron? Oh, he was a goner. He didn’t want to admit how fucking hot he found you fired up in the precinct earlier on in the case giving your higher ups a piece of your mind. But he was your boss, he had to simmer you down before you really ruined your chances of getting promoted. As selfish as he was and wanted to keep you on the team forever he knew you were destined for much, much larger things. You were a natural leader, Aaron found that out quickly. You worked cases with ease and took on the difficult tasks without a second thought. He was constantly amazed by you.

This time he gave you an easy smile. It’d been a while since he felt good enough to smile. Maybe it was the weight lifted off their shoulders from solving the case to your casual flirting with him, but he was feeling good. Damn good. And as tired as you looked Aaron couldn’t deny how pretty you were. That easy gorgeous that never even had to try. He was enamored with you. As always.

“Is that a Hotchner smile?” You quipped not believing your eyes.

“Shh. Don’t tell the team.” You saw it grow just a little.

You shook your head turning your body towards him in the seat knowing he’d get the hint. Hotch was a top-notch profiler and he’d read you like a kindergarten book, with ease, “For the record, I’m not going to take that job.” You stated looking right at him seeing his curious reaction.

“Oh?” He looked at you with genuine curiosity hoping you’d elaborate.

You nodded, “Not ready for it. Have a lot to learn still.”

He let out a soft sigh of relief, “You may think that. But you’d make one hell of a unit chief.”

You grinned giving his hand a quick squeeze hoping you weren’t crossing the line with him, “Maybe in the future, yeah? I just wanna live for now though.”

“I’ll take that.” He grabbed at your hand this time holding it firm, “Have lots to teach you still.” He agreed with you hoping he wasn’t showing too much joy though his face, he still had to keep a somewhat professional composure in front of you. He was still your boss. For now. He just had to give it some time. He knew you were going to be something a little bit more special than just one of his employees. You were… unique.

You nodded, “I should’ve asked this sooner, are you alright?” He didn’t drop your hand, still holding it gingerly in his.

He looked down at his glass before looking up at you, “I’m alright. Thanks for asking.” He hummed hoping he wasn’t making you feel too awkward.

“Would you say anything if you weren’t?”

He shook his head, “Probably not.”

“Can you tell me if you’re actually okay? Your friend died. You were almost blown up…”

He stopped you for a record fourth time, “I promise, I’m okay. It’s adorable that you worry.”

Your cheeks surely lit up like a Christmas Tree on the holiday itself, “Somebody needs to. You’ll run yourself ragged.”

He grabbed at your other hand definitely crossing a line, but he just didn’t give a damn, “You don’t have to do that.”

You didn’t give him a second to argue as your replied, “I want to.”

He nodded flashing you that smile you saw early on in your career but was gone recently, “I’m glad it’s you then. If anybody is.” He admitted almost shyly as his eyes left yours looking away quickly.

You gave his hands a squeeze, “Just tell me if it’s too much Hotch. If I’m ever crossing a line. If I’m too much.”

He looked back up at you with the softest eyes, “You could never, ever be too much.”

“Too emotionally involved?” You pressed.

He laughed throwing his head back, “Rossi got to you I see?”

“He say the same to you?”

Aaron nodded his head, “He did.”

“That man will be the death of me, I swear.” You grumbled knowing what he was up too. He always said the two of you would work out and kept bringing it up now that he was single.

“You and me both sweetheart, you and me both.” He tossed you a wink before standing, “Come on, let’s get you to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” He held out his hand for you to take. Without a second thought you grabbed at it as he pulled you out of your seat. You were enjoying your hand being in his far too much.

“Whatever you say boss man.” You gave his hand a squeeze as he led you out of the bar and to the elevators getting ready for bed. The two of you sat in comfortable silence as two big cheesy grins coated each of your faces knowing something new was bubbling up between the couple. Something the two of you had been waiting on for a long time coming. One that you knew you’d happily accept. One you’d hope he’d embrace too. Little did you know he was ready to dive into the deep end with you, headfirst and all.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 2 months

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hi!! just read both of your wrecker works and rineicbeijcwjkdjs LOVED THEM!! wrecker’s my fav of tbb and i really feel like he needs more love😭 i'm gonna be checking out some of your other works later lol

anyways i saw that you were taking requests, so i went through your prompt list and saw two that caught my eye. they're 24. “You need to wake up because I can't do this without you.” and 18. “I almost lost you.”

i was wondering if you could write something with those prompts for wrecker please? like tbb + reader were able to rescue omega, crosshair, and tech (i am believer in tech surviving season 2 finale), but the reader got seriously injured during the rescue and is now in a coma. wrecker would be the one to say the prompts and it would be angsty like wrecker thinking the reader might die. but please let this end happily.

other than those details i trust your writing skills and process for anything! take your time writing, there's absolutely no rush!! and again your writing is soooo awesome!!😊😊

Well hello there!

I'm so glad you enjoyed those fics, and thank you for popping this request in - so sorry it's taken me so long to write it! I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope it hits the spot 😁

I guess it's also technically canon divergent now S3 is out, haha 😅

Through the Darkness

No one said rescuing the rest of the Batch from Mount Tantiss would be easy - you just didn't expect it to go like this.

Pairing: Wrecker x F!reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: canon typical violence, reader in a coma for a bit, little bit of angst, but also dashes of hope, happily ever after.

Translations: sarad - flower

Hemlock has his hands on you, his blaster pressed to your temple. The sounds of fighting cease. Dead TK Troopers litter the floor. Wrecker and his siblings freeze, slowly lowering their weapons.

Your back is pressed to Hemlock’s chest, and there isn’t a clean shot at him.

“Anyone moves and your dear liaison will pay the price,” Hemlock states.

Rage flows through Wrecker. You were in danger, too far for him to grab and shield, and he had no idea what to do. He glances at his siblings – Omega curled against Hunter’s side with weariness painted on her face, Tech leaning heavily against Echo for support as his body protests the prolonged time standing. Crosshair had peeled off from the group earlier, searching for what or who none of them was sure. They were all back together again. A family again. He wasn’t about to let Hemlock take you from them.

Shakes start in your thighs, slowly creeping up your body until your arms and hands tremble, too. You’ve been in dangerous situations before, had your life threatened before - but you’re certain Hemlock would do it. The man is crazy and will stop at nothing to get his hands on your family. The sound of his verbal back and forth with Hunter is like white noise.

The slightest movement in the rafters above catches your attention, and your eyes dart up. Battered and bruised, Crosshair has found a vantage point and a rifle. Those hawkish eyes meet yours, and a silent conversation is shared. You do the maths. There’s only one way out of this. Thank the Maker you still trust him, even after everything.

You give an almost imperceivable nod, knowing he’ll catch it. You flick your gaze to the others, taking one last look, just in case. Echo, who’d joined you all near the end of the war and had so seamlessly slipped into the fold of your family. Tech, worse for wear after his fall on Eriadu, but with that same solid determination in his eyes. Hunter, the man who’d welcomed you into the squad all those years ago, listened when you shared your thoughts and didn’t make a fuss when you broke terrible news to them about the next mission. Omega, trying to hide her fear through bravery – so much for a young girl with such a pure heart to endure. And Wrecker, the imposing force of a man who’d always put himself between you and danger, who reached for you at every opportunity and consoled you when things had gotten too much – the man you’d quietly loved for some time.

With a shaky breath, you close your eyes, placing all your faith in Crosshair. The quiet sniper who’d at first sneered at you and flicked toothpicks in your face before he’d thawed out and helped perfect your aim, taught you how to use his rifle, and what to look out for when scouting.

The sound of his shot reverberates around the hanger, and milliseconds later, searing pain tears through your shoulder, pulling a piercing cry from your lips. Legs giving out, you crumple, welcoming the cold durasteel you hit.

You don’t know if they all made it out, but you pray they did.

Wrecker hasn’t moved in weeks, refusing to leave you alone. The memory of you being shot won’t leave him; the sound of your agony is stuck on repeat. You’d been in bacta for what felt like forever, the shiny skin on your shoulder a testament to its healing power, but it wasn’t enough to wake you from the coma you’d slipped into. Pabu’s only Doctor had insisted on removing you from the tank once your physical wounds had healed, transferring you to a standard medical bed.

Crosshair’s shot had torn through your shoulder, but the angle had been perfect. Wrecker hadn’t expected any less from his little brother. The bolt had exited you and entered Hemlock, hitting him straight in the chest. A kill shot. That hadn’t killed you. Or so Wrecker hoped. Even if you woke, your shoulder would likely ache for the rest of your life, and your arm would not be as strong as before.

The sound of the door opening pulls Wrecker’s gaze from your prone form and across the small room in Pabu’s clinic. Crosshair slides through the crack in the door, thin lips pressed together, brow pinched. He visits often, guilt in his eyes every time he looks you over. You might’ve okayed the shot, but it still tore at the sniper’s soul to have hurt you.

“Nothing?” Crosshair rasps, sticking close to the door as he glances between you and his brother. He’d never admit it, but fear was starting to settle in his gut. If you didn’t wake…

“Nothin’.” Wrecker confirms, shoulders slumped. “Been talkin’ to her. Doc said she might be able to hear us. Not that it’s doin’ much good.” He sighs, gaze shifting back to you. “Told her we all got out okay. That you and Tech and the kid are alright. Don’t want her worryin’.”

Crosshair makes a slight noise, acknowledging his brother’s words as his gaze lingers on your prone form.

“You stayin’ a bit?” Wrecker asks, using one foot to push out the spare chair at his side – the rest of their siblings often visited, too.

Hesitating, Crosshair lets out a small sigh as he moves across the room, lowering himself silently into the chair. He hadn’t stayed before, preferring to flit in for any news before disappearing. It hurt too much to see you this way, knowing he’d caused it. That and he was still working through everything that had happened during his time with the Empire, trying to fix his relationships with his siblings. But Wrecker needed him, so he’d stay.

You’d always hated the dark.

The shadows surround you, pressing in from all sides. Yet amidst the inky darkness, you find yourself standing in a solitary spot of light, its glow offering a semblance of warmth amidst the chill of the void. The lights kept appearing, and you’d learned quickly that when a new one glistened on the horizon, you had to run for it before the light you were already standing in disappeared.

You’d lost track of how many lights you’d chased so far.

Each one varied in intensity – sometimes brilliant beacons, other times mere flickers barely piercing the gloom. Yet, regardless of their brightness, they all held a magnetic pull, drawing you forward with an unyielding force. And each time you reached one, a brief respite washed over you, a fleeting moment before the next journey into the unknown began.

Scanning the horizon, you spot another light starting to beckon, its faint glow a promise of safety. With a heavy heart, you know what you need to do.

Taking a deep breath, you burst into a sprint. Each step forward is a battle against the darkness, its tendrils reaching out like icy fingers, eager to drag you into its embrace. Goosebumps prickle your arms, heart pounding as fear gnaws at your insides, but a stubborn determination fuels your movements. You can’t afford to falter, to succumb to the darkness, not after everything.

Worry lingers at the edge of your consciousness, a constant reminder of uncertainty. What lay beyond the lights? Will you ever find your way back to the world you once knew? The questions taunt you, echoing in your mind relentlessly the longer you spend here.

Yet, a glimmer of hope remains amidst the fear and uncertainty. Though the darkness threatens to overwhelm you, there must be a reason for the light. There has to be something causing it. Blessing you with it. Giving you these small moments of respite and keeping you in one piece.

You keep going. One foot in front of the other.

A shove yanks Wrecker out of sleep, and the big man jolts awake with a small yelp.

Crosshair snickers, leaning back in his seat, drawing his hand back towards his chest. “Sleeping on the job, vod.” He can’t help but jibe, his smirk melting into a frown at the sound of Wrecker’s stomach growling. “When’s the last time you ate?” He asks. He hadn’t wanted to wake him, seeing him finally getting some rest, but the sun was high in the sky now, and Crosshair knew it wouldn’t be long until Omega and Hunter swung by.

Blinking, Wrecker’s mind takes a moment to catch up with the fact he’s awake. “Urm, yesterday? Maybe?” He guesses, not really sure. The days were starting to blend together.

With a huff, Crosshair stands, long legs unfolding. “Will get you something. Can’t wither away before she wakes.” He mutters, grateful for the opportunity to leave and not have to sit any longer in silence with his feelings – he’d done enough of that for the day.

With a slight nod of appreciation, Wrecker watches as Crosshair heads out the door, hearing the gentle click of it shutting behind him. Hand wiping over his face, Wrecker shifts in the chair, stretching a little. But he can’t avoid the inevitable forever, and although it pains him, he looks you over for what feels like the millionth time.

Despite his imposing stature, he feels powerless.

He hadn’t been able to protect you - the woman he loves. He’s loved you since the moment he first met you in the hanger of a Venator, as you’d been assigned to him and his brothers as their liaison. You’d offered them a smile that had rendered him speechless, and his booming laughter had then filled the hanger when you’d quipped back at Crosshair as he'd sneered about them not needing a babysitter.

You kept them on their toes and blended in so seamlessly with their chaotic lives.

Without an audience, Wrecker clears his throat, leaning forward in his seat to gently take your tiny hand in his much larger one. “I hope ya can hear me, sarad.” He starts, voice mellow. “Been a few weeks now since we got ’em back.” He’s not sure how much you’re aware of, if the passing of time is something you’re experiencing. “Cross was just here. Finally sat for a bit. Think he feels guilty.” Wrecker pauses, brows furrowing, face pinching. “I feel guilty. Should have protected ya, kept ya close.” Wrecker’s voice cracks a little, emotion seeping through.

“We’re all here, though. Ain’t leavin’ ya, no matter what. Can’t wait for ya to wake up and tell us all how much trouble we’re in.” He chuckles softly, a hint of sadness in the sound. “Just...ya need to wake up ’cause I can’t do this without you.” He admits, a well of emotion pressing down on his chest.

Wrecker’s words hang heavy in the air, the weight of his emotions palpable even in the silence of the clinic. He wishes he could shake this feeling of helplessness and do more than just sit by your side, waiting for a sign of life. But for now, all he can offer is his unwavering presence and a steady stream of conversation, hoping against hope that somewhere within your subconscious, you can hear him.

Keep going. You need to keep going.

The darkness claws at you, desperate to slow you down and draw you into its embrace. But the light grows closer with every step you take, with every thud of your heart as you race forward. Amidst your footsteps echoing in the void is the faintest whisper of something familiar.

No.

Not something.

Someone.

“Wreck!” You cry out into the darkness, feet faltering for a second as you recognise the deep voice. The darkness tries to take advantage of your momentary hiccup, but with a yelp, you pick up your pace. The hope that lingers in your heart explodes. As you draw closer to the light, Wrecker’s voice comes into focus. “Ain’t leavin’ ya, no matter what.”

With renewed determination, you push yourself harder, every muscle in your body screaming for rest, but you refuse to give in. The light grows brighter, its warmth now palpable against your skin.

And then, just as you’re on the verge of stepping into the light, a sudden force knocks you off balance, sending you sprawling onto the cold, hard ground. Panic grips your chest as you scramble, desperate to continue your pursuit.

But the darkness has other plans, closing in around you like a suffocating blanket, obscuring the light. Amidst the coldness creeping through your body, you cling to the memory of Wrecker’s voice, a lifeline in the darkness.

Body straining, you crawl forward, ignoring the pain and exhaustion, determination burning bright within you. You don’t belong in the darkness. You belong in the light. With them. With him.

Straining, you reach out an arm, trembling fingers skimming the edge of the light as Wrecker’s voice comes through loud and clear. “…ya need to wake up ’cause I can’t do this without you.”

The darkness recoils.

With a final surge of strength, you propel yourself forward, breaking free from the suffocating grip of the void. The light envelops you, wrapping you in its warm embrace as the shadows recede into the distance, getting further and further away. Relief floods through you, tears of joy mingling with sweat on your cheeks.

Head tilting back, you look up at the light, a bubble of laughter escaping as you bask in the glow. Eyes fluttering shut, you savour the moment. Yet this time, when you open your eyes, there’s no darkness or blinding light anymore.

You blink. Once. Twice. The soft hum of medical equipment fills the air. And there, beside you, is Wrecker, head bowed, the weight of his hand wrapped around yours.

Everything seems to freeze except the frantic thudding of your heart. “Wreck…” You whisper, your voice hoarse from disuse as you dare to hope you’re back. Really back.

Wrecker’s head jolts up at the rasped sound of his name, his good eye widening as he meets your gaze, your name falling from his lips as his features crumple, a heaving sob of relief escaping him.

You slowly sit up, wincing at the ache that shoots through your shoulder. It’s still tender, but the pain is nothing compared to the overwhelming flood of emotions that wash over you at the sight of Wrecker’s tear-streaked face.

You reach out, cupping his cheek in your hand, the warmth of his skin grounding you in reality. “I’m here.” You murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure if you’re trying to convince yourself or him.

Wrecker’s grip tightens around your hand as if afraid you might slip away again if he lets go. He leans into your touch, his words catching in his throat momentarily before he stands, leaning over the bed to envelop you in an embrace, protective yet gentle, conscious of your shoulder. “You’re back.” He murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “Thought I almost lost ya.”

Weak but grateful, you return his embrace, feeling the warmth of his presence washing over you, grounding you in reality. A lump forms in your throat at the thought of him worrying about you, thinking he would lose you. “Not going anywhere, big guy.” You reassure him, sniffling as you try to keep a lid on your emotions. “The others?” You ask cautiously, dread curling in your gut.

“All made it,” Wrecker confirms, arms slowly uncurling from around you as he sits back in his chair, hand scooping up yours so he can maintain some contact.

Your dread is swept away and replaced immediately by relief; this time, you don’t bother holding back your sobs.

“No cryin’, pretty girl. Please.” Wrecker’s heart aches at the sight, his free hand moving to cup your face and wipe away the tears.

You smile through your tears, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions. Wrecker’s touch is like a lifeline. “Sorry.” You manage to choke out between sobs, trying to reign in your feelings. “Just...so relieved.”

Wrecker offers you a tender smile. “No need to apologise, sarad,” he murmurs softly, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance. A bolt of courage has him leaning forward to gently kiss your forehead.

As Wrecker’s lips meet your forehead, warmth seeps through you, chasing away the last remnants of the dark coldness. He pulls back a little, his gaze meeting yours, and the air feels electric. Without a word, you lean forward, closing the distance between you as your lips finally meet his in a soft, tentative kiss.

And you realize that amidst the chaos and darkness, love has always been the guiding light, leading you back to where you belong.

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal @starrylothcat @cw80831 @dreamie411 @issa-me-bry-blog @leftealeaf @isaidonyourknees

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bemusedlybespectacled · 4 months

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Question: I enjoyed s1 OF OFMD, but for various reasons I never actually got around to watching s2 (pick up most of the plot from tumblr tho). What exactly went wrong in s2 that got so many people upset?

Oh, boy. Very long rant incoming.

So, for context, S2 had a significantly smaller budget, which necessitated moving the filming location to union-unfriendly New Zealand, reducing the number of actors/number of appearances of established actors, and cutting down the number of episodes from 10 to 8. In a show where each episode is only about half an hour long, that last one alone was enough to seriously hamper any character development or plot. I am very comfortable putting the vast majority of the blame on HBO because of these financial decisions.

The short version is that Jenkins et. al. needed to address and build on the problems left hanging in S1 while also getting the characters to the end of their character trajectories in case there was no S3 while also leaving room for additional episodes in case there was a S3, in a grand total of four hours, and failed.

The long version is that there were a bunch of what I'd consider small problems in isolation that came together and exploded in the S2 finale.

The reduced cast necessitated breaking up the crew (ex: having Swede marry Jackie and stay on land with her, so they don't need to pay Nat Faxon for all eight episodes) and not spending as much time on their relationships as S1 did.

The reduced time meant that the entire season was rushed (in contrast to S1, which takes place over at least several weeks if not months, most of S2 takes place in roughly five days), leading both to a lot of telling rather than showing (because they don't have time to show you), including vital character and relationship development.

This includes:

Having the Kraken half of the crew beat Ed to death after months of being abused by him – abuse that is clearly shown to have given them PTSD and a well-justified fear and hatred of him – only for them to be okay with him two in-universe days later;

On that note, having Stede dismiss the crew's concerns about Ed because he loves him and also we only have three more episodes left to fit in everything so we need to get over it really fast, even though Stede is supposed to be well-meaning and caring (even if he's not good at it all the time);

Resolving the issue of Stede abandoning Ed in one day, then having them "go slowly" in their relationship for two days and then have some spur-of-the-moment sex, and then the next afternoon have them break up over their diverging career aspirations, and then the day after that resolve that problem and retire on land while the rest of the crew sails off into the sunset;

Stede becoming a fantastic pirate captain over the course of one day, becoming wildly popular in the piracy world two days later, and then deciding the day after that to never be a captain again because he is retiring with Ed;

Having Ed and Stede decide to retire together as what is implied to be the end point of their relationship arc, when none of Stede's issues from S1, like his poor self-esteem, have been so much as mentioned by anyone, implying that he's either magically gotten over them or they don't matter all that much, actually, even though they were the catalyst for basically everything he did in S1;

Ed having two separate character crises – "I am an unlovable person" and "I want to do something with my life other than piracy" – not spending a lot of time on either one, having moments that clearly indicate he is still working on both problems and they have not been resolved, and then apparently having them both be resolved in the final episode despite nothing occurring to actually make that happen, and in regards to the latter, despite the story actively undermining it by repeatedly showing he can't do anything other than piracy;

Related to the above, Ed ending the series as allegedly being loved by the crew as a family (thus solving Crisis #1) despite this never actually being shown, demonstrated, or even fucking alluded to onscreen. If anything, it shows the exact opposite.

This last point is especially galling to me because of what is probably the most divisive issue in the fandom right now: killing off Izzy Hands after giving him seven episodes of character development.

The show begins with the Kraken crew clearly trying to use the skills they learned as part of Stede's crew to cope with their incredibly shitty situation and care for each other, which includes Izzy. Izzy, on his end, tries to protect the crew and speak up for them, which results in him being repeatedly hurt (both implicitly, as Ed at one point says "that's another toe" in response to Izzy advocating for the crew and we later see he's missing more than one toe already, and explicitly, as Ed shoots him in the fucking leg in front of the crew when he stands up for them).

This camaraderie is shown again and again and again. Frenchie, Jim, and Archie take care of Izzy while his leg is infected, at risk to their own lives. Izzy's misery over losing his leg is what unites the PTSD-ridden Kraken crew and the well-meaning-but-ignorant-of-PTSD marooned crew, who are initially at odds, to make him a new prosthetic leg. Izzy gives Lucius advice about forgiving Ed. Izzy is introduced to drag and opens up enough to sing at a crew party, and the whole crew is having fun together while Ed and Stede are in their cabin having sex for the first time. Izzy gives Stede pirate captain lessons and bonds with him when Ed leaves him. Izzy provokes the season's villain into focusing on him and then gives a big speech about how piracy is about belonging to something, giving the rest of the crew time to try to escape.

Recall that Season 1 had some pretty well-established universe rules, one of which was that it runs on Muppet physics/magical realism. People can jump off yardarms, hit the side on the way down, and be perfectly fine. People can get stabbed in the liver and it's totally okay because it's probably not that important, and even can stay pinned to a mast all night that way with only mild discomfort. Buttons can talk to birds and see long distances without a spyglass and put hexes on people. Good people can be hurt (Stede is stabbed repeatedly), bad people can die (the Badmintons, Geraldo), but no one we care about is ever killed.

This is repeated in Season 2: Ed is beaten into a coma with a cannonball and wakes up like Sleeping Beauty after a spirit journey, with no injuries to his face or body. Buttons turns into a seagull after spending an episode doing a magic ritual and is never seen again (because they couldn't keep paying Ewen Bremner due to the budget cuts). Jackie microdoses her husbands with poison to build up their immunity, so that she can later pull a Dread Pirate Westley and poison the British with shared drinks.

So: in the finale, the villain of the season is taken hostage by the pirates (for reasons? unclear how that fits in the plan), happens to have a gun on him (no one checked??), shoots Izzy on the right side and then leaves with no repercussions. The entire crew stands around silently doing nothing while Ed cries over Izzy and tells him that he's his only family.

And Izzy fucking Hands, the guy who just spent eight episodes bonding with and protecting everyone, uses his last words to reassure Ed that him becoming Blackbeard/the Kraken was Izzy's fault and that the crew is Ed's family and they all love him. No one else says anything to Izzy or tries to comfort him or help him in any way.

I repeat: in a show predicated on the idea that bullies and bigots die stupid deaths while queer people and POC are basically magic, a show that was praised for being kind to queer people by not making them worry about their faves suffering or dying, a show founded on the strength of the relationships between the characters, the guy who went through a season-long arc of learning to embrace his pirate found family and his own queerness is shot for stupid reasons on the side we're told isn't important and dies while everyone just stands there. His last words are about the whole crew loving Ed when the only person that the whole crew has loved all season is him.

Anyway, never mind all that, let's cut to Lucius and Pete getting married and Stede and Ed retiring!

Complicating all this is that people who liked Izzy (or even said anything insufficiently mean about Izzy) were harassed for months in between seasons with insults, slurs, and actual fucking death threats. Izzy's growth was kind of a vindication for liking him: it meant that, despite all the harassment, we were right to like him and care about him as a character. Even people who didn't like him initially started to like him during Season 2.

And then he dies, and now there's a bunch of people saying that Izzy fans are big whiny babies who can't handle fictional death, and actually his death was so meaningful and beautiful and the only logical end to his arc, and it can't be bad writing because people die in real life all the time, and also he admitted he fed Ed's darkness so actually he was a terrible person all along anyway and they were right to hate him (and his fans)!

So, yeah, there are a lot of reasons why it's so hated, and I'm probably only addressing the problems of the pro-Izzy people (from what I can tell, BlackBonnet shippers who don't like Izzy think Ed and Stede's relationship is fine and dandy, but I'm sure that there are other criticisms they have that I have not addressed). I'm not even addressing the issues with Jim and Oluwande's relationship this season (and whooo boy are there issues).

It wasn't a universally bad season. There were episodes I really loved and still do. But the finale was a train wreck, and because it was a train wreck, a lot of people are looking back at what happened before the wreck and realizing that, oh, the train lost its brakes and steering because of the budget cuts and the engineers kept throwing fuel in the engine to make it go faster, and huh, now that I think of it, that part earlier in the trip was really wobbly but I didn't pay much attention to it at the time because I was sure the engineers had everything covered.

#ofmd critical #our flag means death #writing #izzy hands #ofmd meta #askbox #personal

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hothothotch · 9 months

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hi! can you write a hotch angsty / fluff piece based off the episode of s3 ep 20 where they go to NY and have to work with Kate Joyner and Hotch treats reader like how he did to Morgan and pushes reader aside bc even after reader being there for him after his divorce with Hayley and thinking there was something more but then ends in fluff? :)

hey hey! first i want to say that this ask has saved my life. second, i got carried away again. but i hope you like it, anon s2

(god knows how much i want a part two for this one)

requests are open!

tw: angst, fluff, 5.3k words.

You should have seen it coming.

You’ve been a part of BAU’s team since the departure of Ellie, a quick replacement approved by Agent Hotchner — or Hotch, as the team called him — that took place for the first time after The Fisher King’s case, when Ellie was shot; when she decided working at the BAU was too much to handle, Hotch approved your official transference only a few weeks before Strauss’ approved Prentiss’.

In all honesty, you’d been surprised Hotch didn’t kick you out after that, but grateful nonetheless — you absolutely loved that job.

You had been the first to notice when Hotch’s marriage started to crumble, your own habit of staying late nights at the office giving you a first-row view of the nights he’d stay late and go home only on the early hours of the morning, just to come back fresh and new as if nothing had happened. There wasn’t much you could do to help, even if you wanted to; the fact that Hotch trusted you on the job didn’t necessarily mean that he trusted you enough to let you in on his personal issues, and you didn’t feel like you really wanted to. But, as purple bags started to form under his eyes, a clear evidence that he hadn’t been sleeping, you couldn’t help but start showing small, almost meaningless acts of service that you hoped would make him feel better.

Everything was pretty secretive.

You started to get in the office earlier, so you could leave a cup of fresh coffee on his desk (black with no sugar, as you know he liked), and whenever you went out for dinner, you’d come back bearing something that was small enough so he wouldn’t want to pay for what you brought.

You started daring more only a few weeks into your small endeavor. Instead of only leaving your secret gifts, you started to write small notes in Garcia’s colorful sticky notes (because you had none on your desk, so he wouldn’t know it was you) with encouraging comments, mostly about his job — and, when you were feeling specially bold, about his appearance in general.

You thought nothing of it, and had no idea if he even read them, but the fact that you were doing something to at least try and make things better was enough to warm your heart. Much more when his stern façade would suddenly turn into a lighter one as the day went by, even when you were out on cases and he found a cup of steaming coffee waiting for him, a sticky note attached to it with a unique message handwritten by you.

It wasn’t until the divorce that you felt the urge to reveal your identity.

Hotch had been served the divorce papers in front of the whole team, only a few minutes before they went out for drinks — it goes unsaid that he immediately stepped out of the group, deciding to go home. The team still went out for drinks, but the talks weren’t as fun as they were supposed to be, and the topic in hand was only one: Hotch’s sudden divorce.

“Haley left home a few weeks ago” Derek confessed, playing with his full glass of beer. A few women had come to hit on him, but it seemed like that small and closed group had decided that if one of them was miserable, they all would be miserable that night — and Morgan had been the first to agree to that silent contract, refusing every opportunity he had to get laid that night, “She took Jack and her things and… left”.

“How could she do it?” Penelope had asked, her voice wrapped in a wrath no one had ever seen the blonde bubble of happiness be.

“Hotch is very dedicated to his job, Pen” Emily had replied, her voice as condescending as sad, a clear indicative that while she wished things had been different, that maybe there was a second chance, something they could do to help, she still could understand Haley’s side in this bargain, “We understand that because we do the same, but Haley… she wasn’t one of us”.

And it was true. While any of you were ready to make sacrifices, to jump off cliffs in order to do the best for your job, Haley was just a wife that had to stay closed off at home with her kid, praying that, at the end of the day (or the week) her husband would make it back home.

Now Hotch knew how it felt.

“There’s nothing we can do to help” David had said that night, taking his own glass of whiskey and taking a sip of the sour drink, “Just be there for him”.

David was right. And maybe his words that night had been what prompted you to climb the three-steps of the catwalk’s stair one week later, one hand playing nervously with your necklace as you used the other to knock on Aaron’s door right after Spencer had left to go home, only you and your boss still on the sixth floor.

“Come in”.

Aaron’s voice was imposing, as serious as it had always been; it was curious, you noticed very quickly, how you’ve never seen Hotch falter before — even when he was served the papers, or when he officially announced for the team that he was, indeed, divorced. He had been calm and collected, talking about the topics as if he was making a comment about a case, or about the weather, and the only indication of his unsaid pain was the way his fingers played nervously with the now empty space where you’d been used to see his wedding band.

Just as he was doing when you opened the door, your eyes falling immediately on that spot, as if searching for an indicative that they had decided to try again. The hope painful on your heart.

“I finished the reports from the last case” you said after a few minutes, moving slowly to leave the folders on top of his desk, “And I’ve also filled the late paperwork, I’m sorry it took me a while”.

Hotch looked up at you, his brown eyes scanning your face almost curiously, and you frowned nervously at the prospect of having something wrong with your face, “What is it?”.

“Nothing” Aaron replied quickly, dropping his eyes back to his hands, “I’m sorry”.

You smiled softly at Aaron, moving slowly to take the seat across from him, careful enough to assure him that if he didn’t want you to sit with him, then you’d quickly move out and pretend nothing had happened. When he didn’t, you allowed yourself to place both your hands on top of his desk, your palms up in an inviting manner — you knew Hotch wouldn’t hold your hand, even with the clear offer, but you’d keep offering until he felt like accepting.

“We’re a team, Hotch” you whispered, almost inaudibly, hoping, one more time, not to be overstepping or making him uncomfortable in any capacity, “I know we’re not best buddies…” you teased lightly, adding a ‘yet’ on your mind, “But you still can share things with me. I’m here to help, you know? If you want to talk, ever, I’ll be here, okay?”.

Much for your surprise and happiness, Aaron had wanted to talk, eventually.

The first time was after a child-related case, from where he left with the need to see Jack, but unable to do so because Haley had taken him to his grandparents’ house. At first, when he called you up to his office, you’d thought you’d be reprimanded for a mistake you couldn’t even remember you committed, but you had barely stepped inside the office when Aaron started to speak, his eyes focused on the mess of papers on his desk.

“I want to talk” he said, his voice more painful than you thought it would be, “If you’re still up to it”.

You were. Absolutely.

And just as talking to him, falling in love with Aaron Hotchner was the easiest thing you’ve ever done in your life.

You didn’t notice how it happened, or when you finally realized you were head over hills in love with him, but what you did know was the unspeakable feeling of your heart thundering on your chest whenever he shot a smile on your way, or when he accidentally brushed his hand on your arm when walking past you, or during your nightly conversations, when he’d repeat the words you first told him all those months ago, when you offered your help.

“We’re a team”.

But you should’ve seen it coming.

You should’ve seen it coming when Aaron announced whoever was responsible for that case had called him personally, and not respected the natural order of things in which JJ receives the case and reunites with Aaron to know if it deserves their immediate attention.

You should’ve seen it coming when Derek commented about Kate Joyner being as ass, and Aaron immediately got defensive — and to some extent you believed you had noticed, even if you decided to ignore it, since your body had responded to his defensiveness.

But you didn’t. Mostly because up to that moment, everything was okay.

“You’ll keep throwing theories at me until I tell you to stop?” Hotch asked, and even if his voice was serious and perfectly professional, you could see a hint of a smile on the way his brows weren’t as furrowed as usual, a shy dimple appearing on the corner of his lips.

This, you thought as you observed his clear features, moving from side to side on the chair you’ve been sitting on, your sole duty being waiting for Garcia’s call, or a lead of any form, this is what I love the most about him. His almost smile.

The thought alone both intimidated you and made butterflies dance on your stomach. You loved him.

“I will” you agreed with a resolute nod, your face as serious as possible considering how bad you wanted to laugh, “That’s what I do when we don’t have leads, I try every possible outcome and make you smile every once in a while. Because we’re a team”.

Aaron shook his head, his smile a bit more apparent than before, “A team, indeed”.

“I hope we make a good one”.

You cringed visibly at Kate Joyner’s British accent, not failing to notice how Aaron immediately moved to look at her, a smile creeping up on his lips immediately as he met her eyes — and you felt your heart break even more at the realization that it was the same smile he always gave you.

“They liaised at Scotland Yard”, Emily had teased when you arrived, JJ gasping at the mischievous tone on her friend’s voice. You wondered if any of them noticed how your face fell by the minute, your eyes unable to match any of theirs, heart thumping against your chest because you had noticed how Aaron had looked at Kate.

He wanted her.

In a way he clearly had never — and probably would never — want you.

“Hotchner” you looked up immediately at his serious tone, furrowing your brows as you paid close attention at his words. You saw, with the corner of your eyes, when Derek and Rossi moved closer to the three of you, their faces as serious as Hotch’s, “Does it look like he could be one of our guys?”.

“What’s going on?” Derek asked, his eyes following Hotch’s every move.

“We’ve got eyes on one of them” Aaron replied quickly, and for a second you hoped they’d be somewhere you could get them, that maybe this hell would be over in the next hour, maybe you were remotely close… “He’s on the subway platform at 59th and Lex”.

Your heart stopped beating at that moment, your breath immediately caught on your throat as you turned to face Kate, “We could be there” you muttered, your voice nothing more than an accusing whisper, “If we’d followed Derek’s plan, we could be there”.

“No, we should be there!” Derek retorted, his voice pulling out the anger you’ve managed to keep away from your words, and if your message hadn’t been clearly delivered to Kate, Derek’s had been — it was her fault.

“He’s got a gun” Garcia announced on the other side of the line, her voice wavering slightly at the new information.

“What do we do?” you asked, eyes moving past Kate to meet Hotch’s, “What are we supposed to do?”.

Aaron didn’t have time to reply before Garcia’s voice came through once more, “He shot her”.

God.

“Where the hell are the police?”, Kate’s voice was nervous when she next spoke, walking past you as if you weren’t there, her eyes not daring to meet yours, even if you knew that she didn’t care about the rage you were displaying. She cared about nothing other than Aaron’s impression on her, “This is Kate Joyner with the FBI. We have a murder suspect, subway platform. 59th and Lex”.

“He’s getting away!” Garcia announced, her voice clearly anguished.

Your mind started to work, all the training you ever had in your life — both for the BAU and other Units — coming back to you on that second, drawing you to move closer to the phone, you’re voice commanding, “Garcia, can you get eyes on him above ground?”.

“He’s heading west on 59th Street”.

“If he makes it to the park, we’ve lost him” Kate pointed, clearly worried.

The point was, Kate’s worry meant nothing to you anymore. Not when she was responsible for that; not when her pride got over her job and caused you to lose the only lead you could’ve had.

“And whose fault is this, Joyner?” you asked, your voice as venomous as you could make it sound, both your hands holding tightly at the wooden surface of the desk you’ve been sitting at, “Because from where I see it, is yours”.

The silence between your small group was almost palpable, and you could hear how someone took a harsh breath, as if your words had been like a slap to their face. You didn’t turn to see who had had that reaction, though — you knew the team had a very tunneled vision of you, that the fact you rarely snapped at people made them think you weren’t as fierce as Prentiss, even though they knew you were way more able to stand your ground than Spencer, usually without being overly rude at the source of your dismay.

That wasn’t the case, not that day.

You heard Aaron calling your name, and if it were any other day, maybe you’d have drawn your eyes off Kate to look at him, but you knew if you did this now, you’d backtrack — and God knew you didn’t want to.

“We could’ve had this guy!” you spat, pointing at the phone, “We just had to follow along with Morgan’s plan, which was a good plan, but Ms. I’m-better-than-anyone couldn’t handle hearing that someone was better than her!”.

“That’s not what happened—”.

“Oh, isn’t it?” You cut her off immediately, licking your lips for a second as your eyes kept glued on hers. Not blinking, not faltering. For the first time since you joined the FBI, you allowed the anger to consume you, because it was personal for you.

The way she looked at Hotch was personal for you.

The way they kept their bodies close was personal for you.

The way he had immediately stopped reciprocating you and your feelings whenever she was close, was personal for you.

The way she had the man you loved under her spell was personal for you.

“Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved onto someone isolated” Kate retorted, her voice way calmer than yours.

“Maybe, but it was worthy a fucking shot!” you screamed, slapping your hands against the table, the sound calling the attention of the other Agents around, “Morgan said to put us at express stops. You wouldn’t need any new cop or to take the cops that are working from the streets, you just needed to assign us for this, and you decided not to, just because Morgan said so!”.

“It’s not your place to have this discussion”.

You were ready to spat back, maybe even to move closer to Kate and tell her that if she failed to do her job, then it was time someone else do it. But the voice that called you out wasn’t Kate’s.

You faltered, your voice suddenly getting caught on your throat as you turned to face Aaron, his eyes void of emotion as he looked at with you a grave expression, only one message written on his face: shut up, or you’ll see the consequences.

“My…” you stuttered, “My place?”.

“You need to back off” Aaron moved on, “We’re here to give the profile, that’s what we’ll do”.

“We have seven bodies, Aaron!” you said, but your voice had lost the strength it had when you were discussing with Kate, your anger turning into something way more painful. Painful for you, “Seven bodies. A woman was just killed on a subway platform because of her incompetence and you’re telling me to back off?”.

You hated how your voice broke on the last phrase, clear evidence that you were on the verge of tears. And you hated that he was a good enough profiler to see it, but he chose to ignore, because he was favoring her over you.

“You said it right, we have seven bodies” Aaron agreed, “Which is exactly why we need to stay focused”.

Derek snorted, drawing your attention back to him, “Pretty rich coming from the man who can’t stay focused on anything but her”.

As if it couldn’t hurt you more.

Aaron didn’t flinch, his eyes meeting Derek’s as he finished the almost inexistant space that separated the two of them, his voice low and passive — the tone he always used when talking with a suspect, “Take a walk. Now. You both”.

All you needed was for his eyes to meet yours for you to know you were done. With this case; with Kate Joyner; with Aaron.

“I’m out” you announced, messily grabbing your things and throwing them on your pockets, trying your best not to unravel then and there, where Kate could see how much she had affected you — how much their actions had affected you, “Out of this precinct. Out of this case”.

You walked past Aaron without sparing a glance at him, making a beeline towards the elevator. And for a second you thought about ignoring the way he called you, aware that you wouldn’t be able to look at him without the tears falling down your face, without you pouring your heart out to the man you ultimately loved, but that couldn’t reciprocate your feelings.

But you stopped, anyway. You stopped because a part of you hoped you’d see the man you’ve grown fond of in the past months; because you expected him to apologize, to say that you were right, or just say something… because if he didn’t, you might as well give up on him.

Ask me to stay, you pleaded, just ask me to stay.

“You can’t walk away from this case”.

You snorted at his cold words, and even with your back turned to him, you knew his face was still cold as stone, the Unit Chief, not your friend, “I can. And I will” you finally found it in yourself to turn and face him, the first tears falling down your face, “I’ll tell Strauss I couldn’t handle it, that it hit too close to home. Don’t worry, I’ll take the plane back to D.C tonight, I don’t want the jet and won’t make the Bureau pay for a bedroom for me. It won’t ruin your budget”.

“Why are you acting like that?” he asked, and you allowed yourself to bask on the way his own voice faltered, the way his closed demeanor changed at the sight of your tears, but it only lasted one second before you looked over his shoulders, finding Kate looking straight at you, clearly curious.

Suddenly there was no way you’d walk out without saying everything you needed to say.

“You really don’t know?” you questioned, “Okay, so I’ll tell you, Aaron” you made a pause, fidgeting with your necklace once again, trying to find the courage you needed to let it all out — everything and nothing at the same time, “I’m so in love with you, Aaron. I’ve been from the moment you started opening up to me. And to see you dismissing my opinion, acting like I’m nothing more than just an AIT who has no idea what she’s doing here, it hurts…” your voice was nothing but a mumbled hiss, the tears now staining your shirt, and you were unable to stop them, even when you violently wiped them away with the palm of your hand, “It hurts because I thought maybe… maybe you were feeling the same. Maybe you were opening up to me because you wanted me to be a part of your life, more than a friend, but a real partner… I thought we were a team, but I see I was wrong”.

You allowed yourself to look desperate, broken, out of place for one more second as you watched the way his demeanor changed as he processed every word you’ve said. You noticed with a heavy heart when it stopped, when he finally took in the meaning behind your words, and then…

Then you saw nothing.

And that only made your heart break even more.

“As I said, I was wrong” you repeated, pressing the elevator button violently, “I’m sorry, Agent Hotchner. I hope the case ends well. I’ll hand you my resignation once you’re back home”.

And without a word more, you left.

…

Prentiss called to let you know the case had ended only two days after you left — not that you wanted to know, but you had told Hotch you’d hand your resignation once he was back, so you were grateful she called. She didn’t ask if you were okay, because you clearly weren’t, and you were grateful for that, too (even if Derek and Penelope did call to know if you were feeling okay).

Aaron didn’t call.

He didn’t reach out.

Didn’t send a message or an email.

He was dead silent.

You had learnt from Derek that Kate Joyner had been killed on an explosion meant to hit her and Hotch, and that Morgan had driven him back to Quantico once Aaron was cleared from the hospital. He didn’t need to tell you, but you knew he had talked to Aaron (or either talked while Aaron listened) about what you said before leaving, about your feelings and how you were ready to resign because of the way he treated you; you also knew from his voice that he wanted you to ask what had been Hotch’s answer to their talk, but you didn’t want to know. Your heart was already too damaged to accept another blow.

It had been around the third day since the end of the case when someone knocked on your door. You had asked the team not to come over, not wanting them to see you on the state you were — hair disheveled, eyes puffy and red from crying —, and much less have to answer to questions you weren’t ready to answer; but you had been receiving a visit from your neighbor, Mr. Clark, who had caught you crying alone once and since then had been visiting you on the same hour everyday to make sure you were doing okay.

He was also helping you look for new jobs, even if he was trying to convince you to do something less dangerous than working for the FBI. It wasn’t working.

“Hello, Mr.—” you cut yourself off immediately when your eyes met the newcomer, your lips slightly parted as you took in his image, “Agent Hotchner?”.

You noticed how he flinched at your words, moving slightly back as if you had shot him straight on the heart, and not just called him by his title. Still, Aaron tried to keep himself perfectly composed (as always), one hand hiding something on his back as he fidgets with his fingers with the other.

If you hadn’t spent the past weeks crying over him, you’d have found it adorable.

“What are you doing here?” you asked sharply, your eyes scanning him one more time before you stopped to find his eyes, almost losing yourself on their brown — almost green, depending on the light — immensity.

“I wanted to talk to you” Aaron replied, rolling his eyes at the notice of how obvious his words were, “I wanted to apologize”.

You tilted your head to the side, your body clearly blocking his way inside your apartment — something you’ve never done before, “Okay. Done. You can go now”.

Your words were harsher than they’ve always been, void and certain, mostly because you knew you still loved him, and that if he asked to go inside, you’d allow. You’d buy anything he said in order to feed the fantasy of you two being more than friends, of the possibility of you being what you wanted you to be.

“Can we talk?” Aaron pleaded, taking a step towards you, “Please”.

“Why? So you can ignore everything I said at the precinct and cry over Kate’s death?” you spat out, and maybe you shouldn’t have talked about someone’s death with the coldness you’ve done, but you were honestly tired of Aaron and his bullshit, “I offered myself to help you, Aaron, because I knew you were suffering over your divorce. And if for some miracle Haley and you decided to go back together and try again, I’d swallow my feelings and let my heart break as I watch you and her trying to rebuild what you had, because I know how much you suffered over losing her. How much you miss being Jack’s father everyday…” you raised one finger, pointing directly at Aaron’s heart — the heart you still loved more than everything, “But I’m not stupid. I won’t let you step on my feeling to cry over another woman after I’ve told you how I feel, after I’ve pathetically confessed my love to you. I’m worthy more than that, Aaron! I deserve more than someone who only needs me when they’re emotionally vulnerable. I deserve to be loved, Aaron!”.

Aaron was silent for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as he observed the first tears rolling down. You thought he wouldn’t say anything, that maybe he’d only move away as you told him to, but he didn’t.

He took a step towards you, using his free hand to clear your tears, “I know” Aaron whispered, licking his lips, “And I should’ve thought about it, about your feelings, before putting mine on top of them. And I apologize, even if I know it’s not enough”.

No, it wasn’t. Because merely apologizing wouldn’t erase the memory of him observing as you poured your heart out and dismissing it on behalf of another woman. It wouldn’t erase the comments, and how he belittled you. It wouldn’t erase the pain you’ve felt on the plane back, or how pathetic Erin Strauss made you feel for abandoning the field over personal problems.

“I didn’t notice you were in love with me because I was trying to brush past the fact that I had fallen in love with you, of how inappropriate it would look like for Strauss, of how it could jeopardize your career…” Aaron cleared his throat, looking at the ground, “And how bad I felt over the fact that you were trying to help me with my marital problems, and I was too busy noticing how beautiful your smile is. I didn’t believe it was right for me to fall in love with you, because I didn’t deserve someone as pure as you”.

You remained silent; your arms crossed in front of your body. You knew there was something else he wanted to say, so you allowed him to.

“I imagine you heard someone talking about how… how much Kate looked like Haley”.

You snorted bitterly, and that seemed to attract his attention back to you, “Everyone. Even I thought that when I saw her”.

Aaron nodded slowly, this time his eyes didn’t move from yours, “When I saw her, all I could see was Haley. And I tried to convince myself that the fact I was shaken by that meant that I was still in love with Haley, and that I didn’t have to worry about my feelings for you, that I wouldn’t mess up our friendship because there weren’t feelings between us… but whenever I looked your way, or talked to you, I’d feel my heartbeat faster. And when I looked at Kate, I felt… empty. As if I was staring at an old ghost” he confessed, and you could see on his demeanor how confessing that pained him — either because he was confessing in a way that he wasn’t in love with Haley anymore, or because he felt bad speaking ill of the dead, you weren’t sure, “So I tried to force myself into find that old spark, the way I felt for Haley, something that would prove to me that I wasn’t in love with you, but I failed. And I failed you in the meantime”.

You took a sharp breath, hating yourself for the way you started to play with your necklace, “Where does it put us, Aaron?” you asked painfully, “Because I won’t go through that again”.

Aaron took his hand off his back, showing you the small Tifanny box he had been hiding, your breath getting immediately caught on your throat as you reached for the object hesitantly, “I’m not proposing to you” he clarified at the look on your face, “I couldn’t, not after just getting divorced… and I also can’t be in a relationship with you, now. I want to, but I need to settle things with Jack before I bring someone knew into my life, and I need to prove to you that I mean it when I say I love you”.

“Aaron…” you whispered, opening up the lid to reveal a golden lock pendant, one that you knew all too well — one you had nonchalantly commented with Aaron you wanted, but thought nothing of it, believing he hadn’t paid any mind at your words. He had, “I can’t… I can’t accept it, I—”.

“I’m not trying to buy your forgiveness, I’m not stupid to think you’d accept a gift in exchange of it” he cut you off, “But I want you to keep it as a promise that I’ll try to make it up to you every day, until you can forgive me. And that I’ll wait for you ‘til my last breath, if needed”.

You looked up at Aaron, nodding slowly.

You knew by the look on his face that you’d be the one leading them from that moment on, that if you wanted to just get the necklace and tell him to go, he’d go without missing a heartbeat. But you didn’t want it. Aaron was willing to try, to win your forgiveness and to respect your feelings in a way he hadn’t before.

“We’re a team” you muttered under your breath, opening up a smile.

So maybe you owed it to yourself to try, too.

Aaron gave you a similar smile, nodding, “We’re a team. The best team”.

And as you took a step to the side, inviting Aaron to enter your apartment, you knew you had already forgiven him.

Thank you for the request ✨

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner oneshot #anon <3

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wakeupthemembersofbylernation · 11 months

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If Mike really loved El romantically, they wouldn’t have dragged out a weird plot of not being able to say ILY for two seasons. One season? Sure. I can let Season 3 slide somewhat if one discounts all the queer longing that takes place and the odd finale kiss. You could interpret S3 as an awkward kid building up the courage to say the L word.

But two seasons? Nah. If the first interpretation were true, things would’ve been resolved when El confesses that she loves him back at the end of S3. But things were not resolved? And the show goes out of its way to emphasize that Mike isn’t even writing “I love you” in his letters? And they have a big, explosive fight about it… and he still can’t say it? Nah Michael, I diagnose you with homosexuality.

“But saying I love you is scary and a big deal and yada yada…” Okay sure. Saying ILY is a big deal. But middle school kids still say it pretty casually. And they certainly at least write it. It’s not uncommon for a kid to drop the “L” bomb to someone they’ve only been dating for a short period of time, only to break up the next day. Things are fluid and chaotic and unpredictable and messy. In Romeo and Juliet, Romeo thought he was in love with Rosaline until seeing Juliet, and he immediately changed his mind.

But even if we just assume it’s harder for Mike to say ILY to El because Mlvn is serious and more meaningful than a fleeting crush, that still doesn’t let Mike off the hook. If Mlvn really is as soulmate-coded as Mlievens believe, when have you ever heard of a soulmate-coded relationship in media where the writers went out of their way to show that saying ILY was like pulling teeth? Imagine if there was a whole section of Titanic where Jack struggled with saying ILY to Rose? Imagine Leia got into a fight with Han because he couldn’t write “love” in his romantic letters, and Han was all like, “I care for you so much, Leia.”Imagine Katara pulled out the receipts, and Aang was like, “Okay, okay. Katara, you’re being ridiculous. Like what is this?”

That would be absurd. And you’d either demand an explanation or stop rooting for them. It’s not that ILY isn’t often a big deal in stories. It’s that when it’s emphasized in a weird way and dragged out for two seasons, you have to side-eye it. It’s one thing when the big ILY is the logical and natural culmination of an arc, whether at the end of a season or the end of a series. That makes sense. It’s another thing entirely when someone is literally begging you to say it, and you still can’t say it. And then when you finally do say it, it’s in the penultimate season, and it’s extremely anticlimactic. And everyone has to emphasize how you said it 9 times to cope/compensate.

If Mlvn was meant to be endgame, and Mike really loved El romantically, they would’ve just… shown Mike and El being in love with each other. There wouldn’t be any doubt. None of the other couples, other than Stancy, have ever gone through this weird kind of ritual where words are emphasized over actions. No one doubts that Lumax, Jopper, and Duzie are in love with each other. Jancy is a little more complicated cause they were separated throughout S4 and doubts were raised, but even so, it’s nowhere near the odd situation with Milkvan. Jancy, Lumax, Jopper, and Duzie have all shown they love each other through their actions. They don’t rely on big gestures or words to prove it. In fact, Lucas even specifically says to Max, “I don’t want a letter.”

All I’m saying is, if Mlvn is treated with a considerable lack of seriousness post Season 2, if the show keeps them in a weird Groundhog Day plot of constant fights and lies and not being on the same page, and if it takes a third party with vested romantic interest in the situation for Mike to finally monologue a measly ILY to his girlfriend, then maybe there’s a reason for this? 🤔

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #mike wheeler i know what you are #stranger things #Byler endgame #el hopper

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loliwrites · 3 months

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August: Nice Girls Don't Stay For Breakfast

part one of fountain of sorrow

⇢ pairing: javier peña x f!reader ⇢ rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni ⇢ chapter warnings/tags: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother!reader [child won’t play a massive role], canon compliant gun violence [starts with a snippet from s1e7], mention of canon compliant violence against women [javi remembers helena], terrible exes, mention of past relationship abuse [nothing specific or graphic], creepy guys [not javi], sassy chucho, alcohol consumption, brief SMUT, car sex, unprotected p in v sex, post-sex photos, cigarettes [are bad for you], javi’s gonna make a good girl dad, female reader, no physical description other than a height difference, protective!javi, no use of y/n. ⇢ word count: 7.3k (woof, sorry. there was a lot of exposition to get out) ⇢ series masterlist ⇢ a/n: switching pov’s in this one. very excited to share this series with y’all & would love to know what you think about it! as always, i’ve done my best to tag the warnings, let me know if you think i’ve missed one.

Two shots. One right after the other. That’s all it took before he managed to get his first shot off. Well, that and the sound of lead whizzing by his head. Clear and present threats to his life trying to break skin and shatter bone. In another lifetime maybe he’d have been a little faster. A little quicker to the trigger. When out on raids like this, he wasn’t sure why his finger wasn’t perpetually in a half pulled position anyway. What use was it trying to take these guys alive? They shot first and asked questions second. Why didn’t he? If they had no qualms killing a DEA agent, why’d he take precautions to save that of a sicario?

These are fanciful thoughts. Ones you can only think about after the fact. Ones only after you’ve almost had your life ended, when your adrenaline has played its role – when you’re no longer running through the streets of Medellín, praying that when you round the corner, some guy with a .38 isn’t going to clock you in the head. Bullseye.

Those are thoughts that have to come later because running after a guy nicknamed ‘Sure Shot’ doesn’t instill one with a whole lot of confidence that he’s going to get out of this alive. Hell, maybe it’s lucky Poison fired the first two shots through the window. Maybe it was fate that he’d had those couple seconds to shoot back and make a run for it before Sure Shot lifted his handgun.

Not that anything that followed was lucky.

Murphy had gone after Poison. He’d run after Sure Shot, who, while on the run, seemed to disregard his nickname and the fact that he had a weapon in his hands. Before they’d separated too much, he could hear shots ringing off and knew Murphy wasn’t having the same experience with Poison. Rather unfortunately, the streets were crowded with people going about their daily lives, put right in the middle of the action through no fault of their own other than the misfortune of their geography. They were making it hard for him to keep pace. And should things go even more amiss, they would become collateral damage.

He rolled his ankle once while propelling himself over a wall. When he landed, he knew he fucked up. Not as spry and nimble as he used to be. And surely not as much as the man he was chasing. But they were leaving the crowds. Dodging the busy streets and trading them in for back alleys which left them virtually alone. That was when it really all went to hell. He’d gotten Sure Shot pinned in his crosshairs. One could call it a perfect sting operation as Sure Shot slid his gun over. But if there had been one thing Javier Peña had learned being in Colombia, it was that he should never count on being lucky, especially when it came to anything Pablo Escobar related. Because money spoke, but it spoke louder in the slums.

And the child that had arrived pointing a handgun at him, demanding Sure Shot be let go? Sometimes twenty dollars looked too damn good. And to a child who’d been exposed to cartel violence for the entirety of his life; being handed a gun with the money was like a dream come true. They weren’t playing cowboys and indians. They were playing policía y sicarios.

Up until that point, the worst thing he ever had to do was point his government issued sidearm at that child. He didn’t know it at the time, but that would eventually lose its place on his growing list of ‘worst things he’d done’. He couldn’t even blame the kid who was only acting in favor of a hero, so he added it to the list of reasons to hate Escobar.

Javi blinked. He was no longer in Bogotá or Medellín, but in Laredo, Texas. His hometown. Gone were the days of chasing someone down and being shot at, for now at least. Now his days consisted of helping his dad out on the ranch or DEA desk work. That was the one perk to Laredo. It sat right up against the US, Mexico border with an international airport a stone's throw away on the Mexico side, in Nuevo Laredo. It was just the right place for a DEA field office to set up and watch drugs try to enter the US. But it was also the place Javi had run from. The first chance he got, despite conversations with his father about how he could run but he might not like what he found. Truth was, he didn’t. The world outside Laredo was… pretty terrible. But he never regretted leaving. There had been some remorse there for what had happened with Lorraine, but never regret.

Javier closed his mouth and swallowed. It had run dry in his moment of blacking out. Honestly, he was shocked he hadn’t gotten into a car wreck. He rested his arm on the car door and drummed his fingers against the hot metal. It had spent the better half of the day baking in the sun while he sat at border watch. Now it’d bake a little longer while he helped fix a fence on his dad’s ranch.

He glanced out his window, squinting despite the sunglasses over his eyes and had to do a quick double take. You gotta be kidding me. Going along the sidewalk, arms swinging haphazardly, a little girl walked all by herself. She couldn’t have been more than six. Pigtails bounced with each step she took. Little Mary Jane shoes buckled over white socks, a navy blue and white checkered dress. She looked entirely out of place in the horribly country town. An innocent little creature in a world full of wolves. And as Javi continued to watch her, slowing down to accommodate for a red light but also to keep in line with her, he saw the wolves start to come out. The little girl remained oblivious to all of it, as a child who doesn’t know the world is full of evil would. A stark contrast to a lot of the children in Colombia.

Though she was able to continue on her way without notice of the world around her, Javi couldn’t. Not as she passed a group of boys on bikes – probably only a few years older than her – and how they tugged on her pigtails when she walked by. She waved her hands at them, brushing them out of her ringlets, the permanent smile not leaving her face for a second. The boys followed her for a few steps after she passed, probably thinking she’d pay them some attention if they teased her loud enough. But the moment they were behind her and no longer in her line of vision, it was like she had forgotten they’d ever been alive. Not once did she turn around to them, and finding this game now boring, the boys turned back and pedaled away. But those boys were the least of her worries. Sure, the boys were annoying but they proved to be no real threat. Kids didn’t carry guns here like they did in Medellín. At least, Javi didn’t think they did.

There was, however, a real threat. Or one Javi perceived to be a real threat. He doubted the little angel realized she was walking through a potential lion’s den. Now fully stopped at the red light, he kept his focus squarely on her. He didn’t want to think too hard about how useless he was while actually in his car, but regardless, he continued to watch. She skipped past a group of three men. Using the profiling skills the DEA had drilled into him, he figured these guys were around his age, though a little worse for wear. Each had a cigarette hanging from their lips and beer bellies hanging from beneath shirts. And every single one watched the little girl pass by. The conversation the men had been having stopped almost immediately, and gave way to what could best be described as ogling. Only once did one of the men manage to tear his eyes away to glance up and down the street. As if fully realizing this little angel was indeed alone they all started to chuckle.

The red light had thwarted the little girl’s advance. She reached up on tip toes and pressed her tiny fingers against the metal pedestrian button. Traffic in front of her and the group of men behind her, she was trapped in the middle. Javi almost thought he’d just continue on his way. That girl’s parents had made the decision to let their child walk alone. Prey to the world. And he had responsibilities to get through. His dad would tear him a new one if he was late. The fence had to be fixed by nightfall to keep coyotes from killing the chickens. He really thought he’d go on his way.

But they whistled at her.

And though not in the way Javi had been guilty of doing to a hooker or two, but in a way of trying to get her attention in lieu of candy. They whistled at her. And he prayed she’d continue to ignore the world around her. For just a second more.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Javi tore his eyes away from her long enough to look over his right shoulder, make sure he was in the clear, and then broke a few traffic laws to get to the curb. He threw his car in park, mumbled another profanity to himself, and got out of his car. Even breaking a few more laws to cross the street as the light turned green. But he had to get to her. Maybe to the public, he looked no better than the guys who had whistled at her. But he knew himself. He trusted himself a helluva lot more than he trusted those guys. So dodging traffic, he ran to her side of the street as the men advanced toward her. Despite the light now showing the little walking man, giving her the right of way, she didn’t move from the curb. Just stared at the street as Javi approached, “muñequita!”

The sound of his voice was enough to get the men to pivot on their heels and walk away from her. Javi was glad about that. He didn’t want to try to go up against three beer bellies. But the sound of his voice hadn’t been enough to get her attention. He tried again, now stepping up onto the curb beside her, “muñequita.”

Finally she looked at him. Hands clasped in front of her, head tilted back, and big, brown, soulful eyes looked up into his. The smile still on her face. Painfully unaware of the world around her. “Muñequita, where’re you going all by yourself?”

“Home,” she lifted one hand and pointed straight ahead.

Javi looked in the direction of her hand, finding that the light had already turned red again. He reached past her and hit the metal button again. “Where’s your mom?”

“She’s working!” the little voice chirped. High-pitched and very clear. Obviously, strange man, mommy is working.

“What about your dad? Where’s he?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Javi pursed his lips and nodded. He must’ve been out of the picture. Surely wasn’t the first deadbeat dad in the world. Javier crouched down, wincing, and rested his forearms on his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him. “It’s not safe for you to be out here by yourself, muñequita. Can I drive you home?”

The little girl shook her head but the smile remained, “mommy said not to get in stranger’s cars.”

“That’s right. Your mommy’s very smart.” He looked back at the streetlight. It had turned green for them again. “Can I walk you home, then?”

She nodded enthusiastically, probably just happy to have a ‘friend’ along for the walk that she could muse too. So Javi stepped off the curb and started crossing the street. But when he looked down to ask her if she knew her address, he found that she wasn’t beside him. He glanced back over his shoulder and found her standing on the edge of the curb. Her arm outstretched. Her delicate little hand opening and closing in his direction. Help, help, help. He took a breath and lowered his head sheepishly, he should’ve known, and made the few steps back to her. With his hand held open, she slotted hers in it and jumped off the curb with flair, skipping along to keep up with him.

It melted his heart. This sweet, little creature. A Lamb of God. And though she wasn’t pointing a gun at his face, she reminded him a lot of that little Colombian boy in Medellín. That boy had been given a gun and left alone. Sent to do the work of a drug lord who was far too willing to sacrifice a child’s life as long as it wasn’t his own. And this one… what was to become of this angelita left alone? If the crimes he’d seen committed against children in Colombia hadn’t been bad enough, the crimes he witnessed against women had been. At that moment, looking down at the little girl, Javier only thought of Helena. He wondered where she was. Where she ended up. Had she gotten to America? Had it been kind to her?

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Javi knocked on the front door and took a step back. He glanced down at the little girl, her hand still firmly gripping his. She hadn’t let go of it since they crossed the street. It also wasn’t the only thing she didn’t stop doing on the rest of the walk. She hadn’t stopped talking. About the clouds, every dog they passed, her school friends and their first grade-sized drama. He’d learned she was five and a quarter and one of the youngest in her class. Her favorite color was purple. And she liked her scooter because she was afraid of her bike.

And above all, she did not seem concerned that there was no answer at her house. Javi knocked again, but the girl pulled her hand out of his and ran back down the porch step, down the small paved path, and cut across to the lawn. Javi immediately turned and went after her, taking a couple steps in her direction before he slowed down when he saw what she had set out to do. Crouched down, singing to herself, she plucked a flower from the grass and came skipping back to him.

“Look!” She thrust the tiny flower in his direction.

He glanced at it, shifting his focus between the little, yellow flower and her. “Wow,” he feigned excitement.

She tugged on his hand again, “‘s a buttercup! Sit, I want to see if you’re good!”

Javi took a deep breath and looked around the neighborhood, wondering if anyone had seen him arrive with her. If they were suspicious as to what some random man was doing with a little child that wasn’t his. But she tugged on his hand again so he sat on the step and she curled in closer to him, resting her free hand on his leg.

“See!” She held the flower beneath her chin, “‘f’it glows lellow, that means you’re good!” She grinned and got impossibly closer to him. “Is it lellow?”

He ducked his head and spotted a faint colorful glow on her chin. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the sun was reflecting it. “Yeah, it’s yellow,”

“I’m good!” She shrieked and reached her hand towards Javi’s face, “lemme see if it’s lellow for you,”

Javier stretched his neck, raising his chin to give her access to the spot she needed for her experiment. There was a little pause, the petals brushing against the bottom of his chin as she inspected it. His eyes locked on her, watching.

“It is!”

She yanked her hand away and Javi lowered his chin, a new, wide grin spread across his face. “I’m good?” he asked, looping his arm around her back when she flung the flower away and scooted in closer to him.

The little girl nodded and opened her mouth to say something else but her attention was quickly diverted when a set of tires crackled along the gravel driveway. She hopped to her feet excitedly, but stayed planted beside Javier, her hand clutching his leg to steady herself.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Panic set in at the sight of an unknown man sitting, waiting at your house. The panic turned heart-stopping when you saw that that unknown man had his arm wrapped around your young daughter. Worse, he seemed to be smiling… beaming… at her. As if he’d found the greatest of prizes. Though his smile did vanish upon the sound of your tires crunching along the gravel driveway.

And the way you exited your car? With speed you didn’t know was in you. The story you’d heard about a mama bear instinct kicking in, in times of crisis had never exposed itself as fiercely as it did in this moment. It had only come in shades of gray before. Now it was full on technicolor. You were seeing it in living color and it felt as though you’d been removed from your body, floating above it all, getting a bird’s eye view. The way this man stood clutching onto your daughter’s hand, and the way she hesitated to obey your command to get away from him in order to give him a hug around the leg. A bitterness rose in your throat and only slightly settled when she finally bounded toward you. Still from your bird’s eye view, it was as if you watched yourself inspect her for harm done but found none. And temporarily satisfied, you suggested she carry on to the backyard. A gated safe haven and more importantly, far, far away from the strange, mustached man, staring at you both.

She obliged, as she always did. She was an angel. And after your ex – her father – all but split at the pregnancy announcement, an angel was exactly what you needed. The expectation was never that you’d become a single parent, but you figured it was a better option than sticking around with that deadbeat. Which, as you approached the stranger on your porch, made you wonder… where was that deadbeat? It was his day to pick her up from school.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You spat, now in killing distance if you so pleased to do to this guy. “So help me, I will cut off your dick and balls, put it on a pike, and march it through town! She’s five for fuck’s sake!”

Javi to his credit, not particularly known for his abundant patience, didn’t yell back. Didn’t fly off the handle in a fit of anger. Didn’t even let his expression show the slightest hint of sorrow. In fact, he had a smile on his face. And if that didn’t piss you the hell off even more.

“Is this your thing? You follow a little girl home, scoop her up, and poof! She vanishes. You fuck right off.”

Smile still plastered on his face, clearly finding some form of enjoyment from this spectacle you were putting on. But when the rampage simmered down, awaiting an answer, he lifted his hand, palm turned upward in an invitation to embrace yours, and grinned a little wider, “Javier Peña, DEA.”

You scoffed, staring his hand down and crossing your arms over your chest, “you think it’s better that you’re a cop? One bad apple…”

He rested his hands on his hips, “technically a Fed. For drug enforcement. And as far as I know, she didn’t have any coke-laced lollipops on her.”

You opened your mouth for another smart response, anything to show that you had the upper hand here. Concerning your kin. On your property. But Javi took a step forward, effectively forcing you back off the singular porch step, and there he stood towering over you, on the high ground. Though he would’ve towered over you anyway, even had you been on equal footing.

“If I were a cop, I’d be lecturin’ you about how it’s irresponsible to let your child walk home alone. And worse that she’s only five, as you so generously pointed out. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, you need to be worryin’ about the fuckin’ group of men whistling at her. Tryna get her attention.” He stepped off the porch, now on even ground with you, and just as suspected, he towered over you. Broad shoulders straining against a button-down cotton shirt, square jaw and strong nose to boot. “You don’t have to believe this, but I’m the best thing that could’ve walked into your daughter’s life today. ‘cause in my line of work, I have seen kids go poof. And for the little girls, they’re lucky if they go poof. It’s usually a helluva lot better than the alternative,”

Despite the height difference, you stepped closer, coming face to chest. Doing your best threatening glare. “If I see you around my daughter again, I will parade your severed penis around town like it’s a fourth of July float. Do not fucking try me, Javier Peña,”

It wasn’t until you let yourself inside the house and slammed the door behind you, that the smile returned to Javi’s face and he crossed through the front yard to get back to the sidewalk. While talk about one’s severed penis was rarely a reason to smile, it was one of the least violent things that he’d been threatened with and he figured that sort of punishment was far better than the kind that he’d watched Los Pepes commit in Colombia. And, yes, the cause had been just – in the effort to take down Pablo Escobar. But he knew the ease with which Los Pepes murdered sicarios in Medellín would one day be turned against him. They would have found a justification for his murder. And that, mixed with the fact that what he was doing was definitely illegal, was the reason he was back in Laredo. And the reason he’d been able to keep the muñequita safe today.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

He knew he wouldn’t make it to Chucho’s ranch before sundown. No chance. And his dad, also not particularly known for his patience (at least where it concerned his son), wasn’t bound to be too pleased about his son’s absence today. Hopefully he’d managed to fix the fence without him.

Javier’s suspicions proved to be correct when he pulled up his father’s long, dirt driveway and came upon the main house just as Chucho and his longtime ranch hand, Pancho, were stepping out the front door. For the second time that day, Javi found himself murmuring, “fuck,” beneath his breath.

Headlights illuminated the two older gentlemen, who still donned their boots, cowboy hats, and dusty jeans from their laborious day. Javi threw the car in park nearly before he hit the brakes, surely stripping the gears, and hopped out of the cab, ready to plead his case.

Chucho held up his hand. The wrinkles etched deep in his skin after decades of hard work in the sun. “No mames!” He shook his head and muttered to himself, “pinche naco. You owe Pancho a couple beers.” The elder Peña rounded to the driver side of his truck with Pancho letting himself into the passenger side. But before he fully entered the cab, Chucho looked back at Javi with a shout, “meet us at the Tack Room!”

The Tack Room. One of a handful of watering holes in town that boasted a kitschy barn theme. But it had the distinction of being the only one that was actually in an old barn. It had been transformed into the bar in Chucho’s young adulthood, and it had been his go-to place ever since Javier could remember. It was nothing fancy. Just a small town dive. Truly a place for locals though it wasn’t as if Laredo had much tourist appeal. Drinks were cheap. Domestic beers hovered around a buck. The food was greasy. Perfect for soaking up the alcohol already consumed and making patrons believe they could tolerate more. To Chucho it was home away from home, and to Javier, it was the place he’d gotten hooked on cigarettes. And places like it had been the reason he’d been so keen on leaving town as soon as he could. In a town as small as this, the local dives harbored three types of people:

The townsfolk who gossiped and got into everyone’s business.

The rancheros who never thought about leaving town.

And the deadbeats who never even tried.

And he’d gone to school with a lot of those in column number three. It was the bubble. People settled down here with jobs that barely paid the bills. They got married and started families. Those kids grew up, and never having the care, ambition, or opportunity to venture outside of southern Texas, stayed put. They fell in line with the work they’d watched their parents do and eventually started having babies of their own. And the cycle continued. All Javier knew was he had to get the hell out of there. So he did… despite the lump of guilt in his stomach about leaving his aging father behind. And when leaving brought him all the way to Colombia, Javi never thought he’d step foot in The Tack Room ever again.

It never failed to smell like sweat, burnt oil, and sawdust. A unique odor that all but singed his nose hairs and left him thinking his sense of smell would forever be compromised. The taste of Tecate didn’t even help. Not even the second one they were all on.

“Did you get the fence up, dad?” Javier asked, side-eyeing the girls at the next table over. If they weren’t old classmates or old girlfriends, he’d have a chance at warming up his bed tonight. They both looked like strangers to him. He could take his pick… or perhaps get both.

“No thanks to you, pendejo.”

“Alright, pop,” He took another sip from his pint glass. “I said I was sorry. I got held up, what do you want from me?”

Chucho lifted his cowboy hat off his head and smoothed out his hair before placing the hat back on. “Don’t think askin’ my son to stick to his word is too much. Instead Pancho has to help and his back’s–” Chucho interrupted himself. Then, looking past his son, and with a tone that dripped soft saccharine, “hola, chiquita!”

“Hola, Chucho!”

“Ven acá! Come meet my boy,”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

The day hadn’t been great to say the least. No day in Laredo was great but thanks to a deadbeat baby daddy and an even deader-beat judge, it was where you were holed up. Traded in San Antonio for it and cursed yourself everyday. As far as you could tell, there wasn’t any getting out of Laredo. Not for you. Not for any of the townies you’d come to recognize. Everyone just stayed put. The reason as to why hadn’t yet revealed itself. There wasn’t anything great in Laredo.

Well maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

A deadbeat baby daddy for an ex was the reason you were here but without him you wouldn’t have had actual sunshine for a daughter. How she ended up like that while being genetically half of him, you’d never know. But if having chosen a different guy meant you’d never had her, it’s a mistake you would’ve made over and over and over again. She was just about the greatest thing ever planted on God’s green earth.

And your job wasn’t so bad. Your first job, at least. There was some sort of cruel irony that job number one was as a clerk in the same courthouse where that deadbeat judge had told you it’d be “beneficial for the girl to grow up around her father”. He obviously didn’t know, or care to learn, just how terrible that guy was. Truthfully anyone – literally anyone – would be better off not being around him. But clerking was a job nonetheless. One with a steady schedule and pay. Easy to plan life around. Not like the second job.

Very few good arguments could be made for The Tack Room. And even less for being a bartender there. Originally you thought a small town bar only full of locals meant that everyone would treat you kindly. But you learned people were pretty much dicks anywhere you went in the world. See, a small town bar full of locals meant that the patrons started to get a little too comfortable. And since no respectable woman would be caught dead drinking at The Tack Room, it meant the place was full with large, aggressively masculine men, who’d spent the day working in the sun or bumming it on the couch while their woman brought everything to the table. And those large, aggressively masculine men, when given liquid courage, started to think they were God’s gift to humanity. Glorified machines to move their penises from one room to another. A normal shift meant being catcalled, grabbed, hugged, or pinched more times than you had fingers. The other girls blushed and cowered and took that behavior. They were raised here – worse, they’d known some of the older men who were now pinching their asses, as children.

Not you. You could thank your deadbeat ex for that. No man was ever going to lay a hand on you like that again.

“Hola chiquita!” The soundwaves drifted in your direction, wrapping the sing-song lilt around your atmosphere, and settling warm in your chest.

Actually, there was one good thing about The Tack Room. Chucho Peña. A quiet, aging gentleman from a bygone era; he was an unforeseen light. He’d liked you since the day he met you a year or so back, here at the bar. First shift, carrying a tray of empty beer bottles, Pepe Hernandez (that asshole) grabbed you by the back pocket of your jeans, pulled you back into him until you were seated in his lap and while he thought he was hung like a horse, you realized he was working with a chode. You told him as such – something mean and cutting since he’d already been rude with you – and instead of quietly nursing his bruised ego, he cocked a fist back and tried to take a swing.

Another thing to thank your deadbeat ex for. He taught you that fists were fast but your reflexes could be faster. You dropped the tray, beer bottles crashing to the sawdust floor, and dodged his hand. He may’ve missed but you never did. Landed one punch straight to his nose. With the commotion, you could hear your boss rumbling, coming out from the kitchen to see what the matter was. And before you knew it your little unforeseen light, Chucho Peña, was beside you. He nudged you out of the way and stood over Pepe.

Your eyes widened at Chucho, but your boss arrived at the scene you’d created but Chucho was taking credit for. He wanted to holler and cuss someone out. Crack some skulls for causing a ruckus. But finding Chucho (who, you’d later found out, had given your now boss his first ranching job as a teenager), your boss backed down and kicked Pepe out.

That first night, Chucho had given you his classic Peña wink and introduced himself. He didn’t like men around acting like fools and making his beer taste bad. But he liked you. Liked your grit. Your guts. And maybe because he knew you could rip him apart, he always treated you extra nice. To make up for the fact that no one else did.

“Hola, Chucho!” You yelled back over the noise of the bar.

“Ven acá! Come meet my boy,”

You handed your purse to the bartendress behind the already crowded bar and got an apron from her in return. Wrapped it around your waist and tied it tightly around your waist on your way over to the table Chucho and Pancho were sitting at. Chucho had mentioned his son only a couple times in passing. You got the sense it was a sensitive subject and never cared to pry too much.

But this son… your blood ran cold at the sight of him. Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, clean shaven save for the mustache…

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Out of all the faces he imagined coming up to the table per his father’s offering, he never guessed it’d be you. And that fact made a little chuckle erupt from his throat when he held out his hand for an introduction you didn’t need.

“Hey, chiquita,” he smirked, all charm and nerve. Even more pleased with himself when you shoved your hand into his and told him your actual name.

But less pleased after you practically ignored him after that. Only spent a couple minutes making small talk with Chucho, trying to remain polite despite wanting to get the fuck away from his son. Maybe one day you’d fill the elder Peña in on how his son was caught with a five year old.

After you politely excused yourself from the table so you could get to work, and Javier realized he’d been practically silent the entire time, he glanced at his dad and found him gearing up for a ribbing.

“Didn’t you used to have game with the ladies?” Chucho grinned and took a sip of his beer.

“She’s not my type,” Javi grumbled.

“Ah ha. You mean she’d take a bit of work,” Chucho nodded, easing his cowboy hat back out of his eyes. “Son, it’s the women like that, that you gotta hold on to,”

Javi shook his head absently, trying to write off his dad’s comments. But he still spent the rest of the night glancing back at the bar every now and again to get a glimpse of you. He wondered how much “work” it’d take him until you bent for him just like every other woman. To his dismay, you didn’t come back to the table the rest of the night. Instead, another waitress made the rounds and filled up the beers. She didn’t seem to have any problem with him. She’d be an easy one to get. But his dad’s words rang in his ears, and despite the waitress putting in a mighty effort to get his attention, he just kept looking back at you.

Until about midnight when he needed to close out. That waitress had stopped coming around when Chucho and Pancho left and she realized she wasn’t going to get any attention from him. He stood from the table and wandered over to the bar, pulling his leather billfold out of his wallet. Foot propped up on the kick step beneath the bar, and forearms on the wood bar top, he smiled when you made eye contact with him, practically forced to help him.

“Closing out?” you asked, noncommittally.

He nodded affirmatively, waiting until you were back in front of him with the printed tab before he asked, “who’s watchin’ your kid now?”

And you could deck him. Really could. Put some serious thought into it. But he seemed to catch on that his little joke wasn’t too funny.

“Sorry,” he bowed and slid his credit card over to you.

You ran his card, taking deep breaths so that when you turned around to face him, you wouldn’t be seeing complete red. It worked just a bit, and when you turned to hand the bill back to him, you only saw shades of dark pink. “Chucho never mentioned his son was DEA. Sounds like a lie,”

Javier smiled again. While he slid his credit card back into his wallet, he simultaneously slid out the badge that got him into the local office. Presenting it to you and adding the same blank expression on his face as his picture on the badge, he figured you believed him.

“She talked about you all day,” you shook your head and ran a towel over the bar to wipe away lingering condensation. It gave you something to do other than get lost in his eyes. “The buttercups told her you were good,”

“Not sure who taught her that, but buttercups aren’t very good judges of character,”

“I did,”

He pressed his lips together and leaned a little closer to the bar. “Well, they’re not. But they didn’t lie,”

You nodded, relenting. “Then I guess I should thank you. And apologize for that stuff about severing your penis and marching it through town,”

“Trust me, I’m sure you’re not the only woman in Laredo interested in separating me from my penis,”

“It does some damage, doesn’t it?”

A flush worked its way up to Javi’s cheeks and he laughed softly. He figured he’d let that one go without response. Your brain could imagine for itself what kind of damage he could do.

“I’m off in a half hour. If you stick around, I can show you how sorry I am,”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Maybe this not so great day was turning around. That’s the only explanation you could think of as to why you were currently seated on Javi’s lap in the passenger seat of your car, knees planted on either side of his waist, pressing against the coarse seat fabric. Tight t-shirt pushed up as far as it would go with your arms still in the sleeves. High enough for your breasts to be exposed; lace bra hiding the last bit of skin you had to offer. His hands had a crushing hold on your hips, rocking your body along his length. He was perpetually bottomed out, the lack of space giving no chance for reprieve. You brought one hand to the back of his neck while the other flung up and pressed against the roof of the car, trying to keep yourself down despite your body involuntarily inching away from him. Not that the confines of the space, or his grip on you, would let you get too far.

“C’mon, give it to me,” he growled with a labored breath.

A moan ripped through your chest and throat. Thighs quivered around Javi’s hips, which he undoubtedly felt because a chuckle rumbled past his lips and into the space between you both. You lowered your head, looking down into his eyes which were already boring into your soul.

“Already?”

“Shut up, Peña,”

He snapped his hips upward, where the head of his cock pressed against your cervix, searching for entry into a depth your body couldn’t accommodate. But entry wasn’t the ultimate goal, it was just to prove to you that he could. So he wrapped one arm around you, keeping you pinned to him where every movement of your body on his created friction against your clit.

“Javi, querida. It’s Javi,”

Your head lolled forward and tucked into his neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses. Despite you being on top of him, he seemed to be everywhere. His body encompassed yours like a weighted blanket. Arms snaked around you to keep you close, as if you had any intention of furthering yourself from the pleasure he was giving you. “Javi,” his name lingered on your lips, singing two syllables that had never sounded so sweet. “I’m gonna come,” you gasped into his neck, closing your mouth and suckling gently on his skin.

He smiled and licked his lips, trying to focus on the feeling of your mouth on his neck. Anything to not give in to the feeling of your anatomy squeezing him within an inch of his life. He didn’t need you to tell him you were close; he could tell. “I feel it. Feel you pulling me deeper,” he lowered his head closer to your ear, his arm doing most of the work to keep your body in its steady rhythm, thrusting along him. “Go on, soak me. Give me your best,”

“Javi, Javi,” you panted. Then quickly, your head was pulled away from his neck. Both his hands cupped around your cheeks, forcing you to look down into his heads.

You tried to lose the eye contact by squeezing your eyes shut, but Javi shook you to attention. “Let me see those eyes when you come all over me,”

Eyes snapped open, pleading. Eyebrows furrowed and mouth slack. Javi lifted his hips to meet the shifting of your body and that’s when you went rigid. Hands curling into fists and shaking. Your body jerked on top of him, an otherworldly cry erupting through you. He held on tight, leaning over and biting into your shoulder as you continued to tremble through your high. The breath hitched in your throat and it took a few seconds before a new deep lungful air entered your body. By that point, Javier was flexing and shaking beneath you.

“Where–shit–”

He knew you heard him too late. No doubt the throbbing of the pulse in your ears had blocked off the rest of the world. Unable to hear anything over the sound of your own blood pumping through your veins and the shattered cry coming out of your throat. So that by the time you did hear his question, it was too late. And Javi, just as he wasn’t known for his patience, also wasn’t known for his restraint – and yet somehow had the presence of mind and the wherewithal to physically lift you off his member just seconds before he came with a groan; thick spend coating his stomach.

You stared at it, watching the droplets create a line down toward the base of his cock, slaves to gravity. Only when he wrapped a large paw over your thigh and gave it a squeeze, did you blink and look back into his eyes.

“Good?” He asked in the same moment you leaned forward, finding himself face first in your breasts, “hello,” he smirked against your skin and bit into the fleshy mounds.

You squealed, searching blindly in the backseat with your hand before your fingertips found what they’d be looking for. And pulling back, with your free hand latching onto Javi’s hair and giving it a playful tug, you produced a Polaroid camera.

“‘S’that for?” he cocked his head to the side.

But you didn’t answer him. Just quickly held it up to your eye, peered through the viewfinder and snapped the photo.

“Hey!” He snatched the photo away as it printed, currently just a gray square, waiting for the final image to appear. “What is this? Blackmail? You take pictures of all your conquests,”

You laughed and grabbed the photo right back, placing it in your bra and lowering your shirt. “You’re not that special, Peña,”

Leaning back while still on his lap to create more distance for the camera, you held it back up to your eye and inspected the frame. This time his face didn’t make the cut, but his chest, down to his stomach still donning his come with his member laid back against it did. Along with your bare thighs straddling him, one of his hands still had real estate on your skin. You snapped that picture, too, and flipped it over to its blank side. With a pen in the center console courtesy of The Tack Room, you wrote your number and handed the picture to Javi. He was out of your car before the thing had even finished developing. And in the darkness of the parking lot, he wouldn’t have been able to see the image even if it had been. A cigarette was in his mouth by the time you peeled out of the lot, and his nerves were settling with the overhead lights in his car flicking on. That was when he saw just what you’d snapped the second time. Two bodies. Anonymous. His cock rested limp against his stomach. Your legs secured around his hips. And a phone number on the back with the instruction, call me, Peña.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x f!reader #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu #javier pena smut #javier pena angst #javier pena fluff #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #javier pena fic

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still-a-morosexual-help · 1 year

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Ok ok

(Keep in mind Obey Me!'s Devildom & Celestial Realm are not equivalent to Hell & Heaven despite sharing some characteristics, and it makes more sense to see them as two warring kingdoms rather than as heaven & hell)

In S2 they say the war between the angels and demons has been going on from the very beginning and no one's really sure why it started

Nightbringer says there was a whole line of Demon Kings before Diavolo and his father

Nightbringer implies that god created all the angels as they're all brothers and sisters even if they're not necessarily family

Nightbringer says that after the brothers rebelled and fled, the Celestial Realm labelled them War Criminals. The Demon King took them in and this nearly re-started the war between the Celestial Realm & Devildom. But the Demon King was able to smooth it all over. Soon after, he fell into a deep sleep.

Diavolo says, since he's not actually the Demon King yet, what he's doing is following his father's wishes or something similar to that

In S3, it says that Diavolo ended the war between the Celestial Realm & Devildom after his father went to sleep.

So let's assume that his Father had been going into these deep sleeps on and off for short periods of time and this last one (after everything had settled/calmed down a bit) was more permanent

When his father fell into that first sleep, Diavolo went ahead with their plan to call a truce and invited Lucifer over to talk about their plans for harmony.

In Glory Days, Lucifer is shocked that a demon wants harmony/balance/peace and wonders if such a thing was possible then why didn't his father reach for it

What I'm trying to say is:

The Demon King (Diavolo's father) wasn't there for the whole span of the war but still wanted to end it and wanted peace, and actively worked to achieve that

God was alive during the whole span of the war and probably is the only person who knows the cause of it but (as far as Lucifer knew) he never tried to achieve peace and was fine with letting things continue the way they were

And I think that's amazing

#obey me spoilers #obey me nightbringer #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me!#shall we date? obey me!#swd obey me #swd obey me!#shall we date obey me #obey me demon king #obey me diavolo #om diavolo #obey me! diavolo #om! diavolo #swd diavolo #shall we date diavolo #nightbringer spoilers

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hbyrde36 · 3 months

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STWG Daily Drabble 2/1/24

ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @hitlikehammers who chose today's prompt. This one is for YOU!

Prompt: “I Couldn’t Lose You”

Set in post season 4, angst w/ a happy ending

featuring S3/4 Secret Situationship Steddie - post breakup

Rating: G | WC: 1407 | Ao3 link

“I Couldn’t Lose You”

Eddie opened the door.

It was a reflex, really.

Someone rings the bell, you answer the door. It’s an ingrained behavior, unconsciously done.

He didn’t think about the fact that he wasn’t expecting anyone, or that it was past midnight and a decidedly odd time for unexpected visitors. In his defense, he didn’t know the simple act of opening his door would mean stepping into the past, and facing down the worst heartbreak of his life head-on after running away to another State to avoid it.

“Oh.” Eddie gasped, the sound seeming to echo as the man on the other side of the doorway sucked in his own sharp breath.

Pain lanced through his chest as he set eyes on Steve Harrington. The man he loved, who he hadn’t seen in over two years.

“It’s really you.” Steve said, blinking hard as if he couldn't believe his eyes. “I didn’t… I knocked on so many doors. I didn’t know your apartment number and–”

“What are you doing here?” Eddie interrupted, aiming for a bored disinterested tone, but the words came out a little too breathless to pull it off.

He couldn’t help it. The only thing keeping him upright just then was the death grip he had on the doorframe.

What was Steve doing here? Eddie figured he and Nancy would have been halfway to the altar by now, if not already there.

“I…” Steve trailed off, dropping his gaze to the floor. He gave a wry huff of laughter and shook his head before looking back up with guarded eyes. “Just answer me one question, and I'll never bother you again.”

“Fine.”

Eddie’s heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure the other man could hear it. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to stand here and look at Steve’s unfairly pretty face and remember. It’d taken him so long to forget, to be okay after… after.

“Why did you run?” Steve asked.

“I didn’t run. I moved.”

Steve scoffed. “Eddie, you snuck out in the middle of the night. We were both barely healed and I- I woke up and you were just gone. I went to your place and Wayne told me you’d packed your shit up in the van and left. No explanation, no note, nothing!”

Eddie shrugged. “I needed a change of scenery.”

“You could have told me!”

“I couldn’t.”

“Bullshit.” Steve spat, his eyes beginning to shimmer with anger. “It was like you died, Eddie! One day you were there and the next you were gone without a trace. No number to call, no forwarding address.”

“Wayne knew where I was.”

Steve shook his head, expression hardening. “It was like you fucking died! And I don’t… I just need to know why.”

Eddie deflated. Any chance of keeping his aloof demeanor intact was gone under the weight of Steve’s gaze. What was the point anyway? He might as well tell him the truth. Maybe then he would leave Eddie alone to begin the process of picking up the pieces of his shattered heart all over again.

“I couldn’t lose you.” Eddie began with a sigh. “I couldn’t stand the idea of losing you, so I left.”

Steve furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know. Trust me, I know. But after all that shit in the Winnebago with you and Nancy, I couldn’t just sit around and watch her take you from me. I thought If I left first, it wouldn’t hurt so much. I know that’s fucked up of me to say, as if you were ever mine to begin with, but–”

“I was.”

Eddie gulped, shaking his head reflexively. “No.” He breathed.

Steve's face softened and he reached out, cupping Eddie's cheek with an almost painful tenderness. “I was yours, Eddie, and I thought you were mine– or at least I wanted you to be. Looks like maybe I should have been more clear about that.”

“Then why did you say those things to her, about an R.V. and wanting six kids, and–”

“Jesus, is that what this has all been about?” Steve asked, dropping his hand from Eddie’s face and crossing his arms over his chest.

“There was also the eye-fucking.”

“Eddie.”

Eddie threw his hands up. “What was I supposed to think?! Here I was, falling head over heels in love with you, and the whole time you were dreaming about fucking off to Yellowstone or whatever with some picture perfect wife and your brood of equally picture-perfect children, like some non-musical version of the fucking Partridge family. Admit it, I was a detour. A glorified speed bump on your way to the life you actually wanted.”

“Baby-”

Eddie flinched hard at the use of the nickname, stumbling backwards out of Steve's reach. Horrifyingly he could feel tears stinging at the corner of his eyes. Even more horrifying was the fact that Steve was following him into the apartment and shutting the door. Hadn’t he done enough, now he had to literally invade Eddie’s home?

“Baby, please-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Fine. I-”

“Why are you still here? You got your answer. I don’t know what you needed it for but you can go back to your life with little miss perfect now.”

Eddie staggered to the couch, knowing if he didn’t sit soon his shaking legs would betray him. He pulled a throw pillow to his chest, hugging it tightly as he rested his chin on it.

Steve crouched down in front of him, but Eddie studiously ignored his gaze.

“What are you talking about? Nancy?”

“Or whoever the current little miss perfect is. I know you’re not picky.”

“Ouch.” Steve said, though not like the barb had actually stung. He reached out towards Eddie’s knee, moving slowly to give him every opportunity to protest.

He didn’t.

”There is no little miss perfect.” Steve said softly.

Eddie whined involuntarily. Squeezing the pillow tighter and tighter to his chest.

“It was true, what I said to Nancy in the RV. I did always have that dream. The part I didn’t get to say, because we were a little busy at the time, the part I would have told you if you’d asked me about it, is how the dream had changed. When you and I became, whatever we were back then, the dream became less about having 6 little Harringtons, and more about the person in the passenger seat. The one I really wanted to share my life with, the family we might build together by adopting our own kids some day, or the family we found with the little brats I can't seem to get rid of even though they’re about to graduate high school.”

Steve knelt down in front of Eddie more solidly, gently prying the pillow out of his iron grip. Eddie let it go. His eyes were locked on Steve’s as he let everything that was just said to him sink in.

“Say something, please.” Steve begged, taking both of Eddie’s hands in his.

“Is it still me?” Eddie croaked out, his throat tight as he fought not to cry. “In the passenger seat– is it still me, or did I fuck everything up?”

Steve smiled broadly, a few tears of his own escaping his eyes to roll down his cheeks. “I’ve been looking for you, all this time. I love you. Of course it’s still you, baby.”

Eddie surged forward, crashing his mouth into Steve’s. Their lips slotted together perfectly, just as they always had, as if no time had passed at all. Eddie threw his arms over Steve’s shoulders, pulling him close, as Steve wound his hands up into Eddie's hair, gently tugging.

They parted only when they had to, or else risk passing out from lack of oxygen. Eddie rested his forehead against Steve’s while they both caught their breath.

“I love you too… still… always. In case that wasn’t clear.”

Steve snorted the most unattractive laugh imaginable, but it was music to Eddie’s ears. He hadn’t heard that sound in far too long, and it warmed his heart almost as much as the kiss to know he’d caused it.

“I don’t know, Eds. I think you might have to show me again.”

Eddie was happy to comply.

He grinned, leaning in for another deep lingering kiss.

Thank you @penny00dreadful beloved friend and beta!

#stwgdailyprompt #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic #fanfic #stwg

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thebearmage · 1 year

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Hi! Could I request an one shot about Five&Wife!Reader set in S3 at the wedding, where Y/N worries about Five's drinking frenzy and takes care of him that night? Ya know, that usual drunk words are honest words, world ending stuff etc. I'm just into fluff right now 😭 Maybe Five and Y/N are mentally and physically the same age and know each other from the apocalypse to make it make sense. I loved In Their Arms! Five deserves love. If it's not something you're interested in to write don't worry💜

Put that down!!

Five Hargreeves x Wife!Reader

Summary: During Slone and Luther's wedding, Five goes all out on his drinking. You, being the responsible one, remain sober to take care of him. It goes as one would expect.

NOTE: I went for a bit more humor and angst here too, hope that's okay. Also, The Reader is a Speedster like The CW's Flash. So you can also time travel.

Also (F/C), for anyone who doesn't know, means Favorite Color.

Five and reader are both 18+

"Ah, here we go,"

You turn to look and see where Five is going. The alcohol, of course.

"Oh no," You put your face in your hands, "There goes my plans for the night,"

You and Five are happily married. You were once number 8, born with superspeed and the many different abilities that came with it.

When Five ran off that day, you had used your speed to follow him. You both traveled through time, finding it fun before Five got stuck in the future. Your time travel abilities weren't as limited as his, so you could've left. But you hadn't known if you could take Five with you, so you'd stayed. You didn't want him to be alone.

You and Five were happy together. You and Five had a daughter named Delores and lived in an abandoned library. Life was good and simple then.

Then The Handler showed up and swept you both into trauma after trauma. And then, to top it all off, when you both finally went back, you both got stuck in your 18-year-old bodies.

Now, after failing to save the world a third time, you were at Luther and Sloane's wedding watching as your husband went to get drunk.

You were not much of a drinker yourself, you never really liked the taste and HATED it when Five drank. Tonight, however, you'd let it slide, but you knew you'd have your hands full looking after him.

As the night progressed, you watched your husband slowly get more and more drunk.

You had fun though. Everyone dancing together was enjoyable and you had used the (F/C) lightning that came off your body when running to spice up the floor a bit.

You were twirling around in your dress when you heard Five's voice. You watched, trying so hard not to laugh, as his drunk-as-fuck-ass gave a moving speech to Luther.

You liked Five's singing though, you walked up to the stage and joined him. Wrapping an arm around him.

When everyone moved onto the patio, you had gone off to power your nose. So Five had gone out by himself.

When you went to find the group, half of them were gone, including Five.

"Oh no," you mumble, you stop Luther as he starts to walk Sloane inside, "Where's Five?"

Luther chuckles, "Said he was going to the buffet,"

You sigh and superspeed there, looking around. No Five. You growl and continue to run through the hotel. The (F/C) sparks and a strong breeze followed you everywhere you went.

You soon found Five wandering throughout the halls with cereal in his hands. You zip in front of him and smile.

"There you are,"

Five stumbles at the breeze you make but looks up and smiles when he sees you.

"Y/N!!" He jumps up and glomps you. You're so thankful that minor super strength is part of superspeed because if it wasn't, Five would have knocked you over.

"Hey, baby," you whisper, kissing his cheek, "What are we up to, hmm?"

Five blinks heavily a few times, looking at the cereal in his hands before shrugging, "I dunno,"

You laugh and kiss him softly, "Maybe it's time take you to bed,"

Five wriggles his eyebrows and locks his arms around your neck, "Take me to bed, huh?"

You playfully push his face away from yours, "Not like that. That's the LAST thing you need. I mean sleep, mister,"

Five whines, "Nooo, the night is still young!" He throws his arms out dramatically, "and I have plans,"

You raises your eyebrows in mock fear, "Plans?"

"Plans! Yes!" Five slurs poking your chest, "Lots and lots of plans!"

Five then stumbles over to the plant in the corner of the room, you wince as he vomits. Kneeling down next to him, and rubbing his back.

"There, there, sweetie, get it out," you urge, "It's alright,"

“With everything we discussed, it’d be folly to wait,” A voice said. You snap your head around and even Five looks curious.

The white buffalo suite door is cracked open, and you two can see Reginald, “There is no time. I can’t do this without you.”

Both you and Five press against the crack in the door, straining to see who he’s talking to. You use your speed to faze through the door, only for a moment, and see Allison.

“Do we have a deal?”

"Shit," you whisper, gently coaxing Five up, "Come on, baby, we have to go,"

"What why?" Five asked, already forgetting what just happened, "Wh-" then he wobbles "Oh shit,"

Five tips backward into your arms. You weren't prepared this time so his weight sends you both into the elevator. You grunt as you land on the hard floor, with Five completely passed out on top of you.

The doors close and you sigh. You knew Allison was unstable but this...this meant trouble. You look at Five in your lap and smile. Allison will have to wait, you have your husband to take care of.

As the doors slowly open again, you pull Five to his feet and start dragging him down the hall to your room. He wakes up half-way there are starts to protest.

"No! Please! I wanna keep going," he mumbles, you shake your head.

"You're way too drunk to do anything, my love," you say, Five shakes his own head.

"Am not!"

You look at him, "Oh really? Can you look at that clock and tell me what it says,"

"It says 'Five is not fucking drunk'" he turns around, all proud of himself. You only look at him unamused,

"Okay, bed time!"

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

You drag Five to the door and lock the door. He instantly blinks away.

"FIVE!"

You run out to find him running down the hall, cackling.

"You can't catch me!"

"Oh, for the love of!"

You speed up to him, only for him to blink again. You rub your temples.

"Come on, Five. You need sleep and I'm growing tired. Let's go to bed,"

Five, appearing at the end of the hallway, tilts his head in concertation, "Nah,"

"I'll snuggle you," You offer, "Just how you like it,"

"Ooh!" Five seems interested for a moment, then shakes his head, "Nah!"

He's gone once again, causing you to huff. You wounder if it was better for him to just run himself out.

You shake your head, you can't leave him. You run after him.

Soon, the entire hotel is light up with blue and (F/C) lights as you chase Five around the hotel.

You find Five pilling a bunch of mannequins into some machine and pouring soap in.

"No!" You cry, causing him to stop, "Put that down!"

Five beams and holds the soap closer,

"No! Put it down. Put it...down!"

Five pouts and drops the soap, "You're no fun sometimes, Y/N,"

Aaaannnnd there he goes. You decide to just wait it out. The next few hours you run around, following Five but no longer trying to stop his drunken antics.

Before long you find him snuggled up under the radiator in the kitchen. You smile and shake your head fondly before picking him up.

He snuggles your chest as his eyes flutter open, "Y/N?"

"Yes, my love, it's me," You shift him a bit to get a better hold on him, "I'm taking you back to our room,"

He nods and lets his arms dangle under him, "You're so amazing, you know that," he murmurs, "So...so...amazing,"

You laugh, "Thank you, baby,"

Five takes a bit of your dress in his fingers, "Is this the one I bought you?"

"Bought?" You chuckle, "You mean stole, but yes,"

Five sighs happily, resting his head on your chest and looking up at you, "You're so pretty," his smile is dreamy, "I love you so much,"

You smile and finally reach the room, you faze in and walk over to the bed, laying Five down.

His body relaxes into the mattress as he sighs in bliss. You slowly help him take off his shoes and vest before helping him change into more comfortable clothes.

"I love you," he mumbles for the 10th time, "I love you so much,"

"I love you too," you smile, quickly changing your own clothes using your speed, Five smiles.

"I love your power," he picks at his nail slightly, "It's so beautiful and powerful,"

You smile, "Yours is too," you lay down next to him, "Now sleep honey, it'll be alright,"

Five hugs you like a koala, arms around your chest, legs around your waist, "I'm so glad I get to spend my final days with you," he mumbles, "I love you,"

You kiss him softly, "I love you too, now rest,"

Five nuzzles into your chest. You smile and run a hand through his hair, listening the the noises of the kugelblitz outside.

"I wouldn't mind trying one last time," you mutter, "You're worth saving, my love,"

Five makes a noise in his sleep and you smile,

"Sweetest of dreams, Number Five," you kiss his head, "I will always be with you,"

———————❖———————

I love writing this one! It was so cute and fluffy! I tired to add some humor but idk how I did. Requests are still open so feel free to send in some more! Also, a part three to Mindless will be out soon so look for that. Thanks again for reading!

#fanfic #imagines #tua five #five hargreeves x you #five hargreaves x reader #number five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves fluff #five hargreeves fic #five hargreeves imagine #tua #tua fic #tua five x reader #tua season 3 #the umbrella academy season 3 #the umbrella academy

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tbyfandoms · 1 year

Text

I’ve Got You | JJ Maybank x Reader

Pairing: jj maybank x f!reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: struggling with financial burdens, y/n starts to crumble under the pressure. jj notices the girl he loves is hard on her luck, so he does everything he can to help fix it (requested)

Warnings: descriptions of financial struggles and depression, mild swearing

Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request

A/N: hello everybody! it feels great to finally get out my first fic of the new year! things have been kinda crazy irl so I haven't had a ton of time to write, but I just wanna say I appreciate all of your support and patience. when I got this request it really hit home, so I hope the user who requested this enjoys! in other words, I can't wait for s3 of obx to drop this month, I've missed my blondie <3

It was all beginning to be too much. You aren’t quite sure how much more of this you could handle.

Flopping onto your bed, you try your best to not fall asleep right then and there. You’ve just gotten home from a long shift at work, and to say you're drained would be an understatement.

You're not really sure where it all started. At one point you were fine, dealing with finances and typical life whatsits, when suddenly it all came crashing down.

Bills and necessities started pilling up and for some reason everything seemed to be getting more and more expensive. You were doing everything you could; taking on another job, spending less, even selling things you no longer needed. None of it seemed to help, though. You feel like you're being buried under all the pressure, and it doesn't help that it's starting to take a toll on your mental health.

Days and days went by where you would do nothing but go from one job to the next, come home and do what you needed, and then fall asleep. It was all starting to blur, you can't even remember what life was like before this all began. It makes you feel so sad and stressed, but you're not quite sure what else to do.

You're supposed to be hanging out with the Pogues tonight, and you'd promised you'd go since you've missed the last three hangouts to either work or catch up on sleep, but you're struggling to even keep your eyes open right now. Honestly with everything going on lately, you haven’t been one to want to socialize anyways. You can feel yourself pulling away from your friends more and more, but you feel as if you can’t do anything to stop it.

Turning over on your side, you grab your phone and check what time it is. It's early-ish. You could totally rest your eyes for a bit before you get up. Today was just so exhausting, it felt like you pulled a double because one of your co-workers called off and you had to do all their work as well as your own. The whole thing was a total nightmare.

It wouldn't hurt to drift off for a while. If you're a little late to the hangout later it won't be the end of the world. Everyone would probably just brush it off. So far no one's caught on to what's happening in your life and somehow that soothes you. You'd hate to worry any of them, they each have their own problems to deal with and you're not gonna add to the list.

Everything would be fine eventually. Although, from what you can see, it all seems far from fine.

*****

There's a rapid and consistent buzzing coming from your left side, and the feeling has you bolting out of bed.

It takes you a second to regain your balance and whereabouts, but as soon as you do you find yourself filled with panic. It’s darker out now, much darker than it was earlier.

When your eyes adjust to the brightness of your phone you see notifications on top of notifications of missed calls and texts. They’re all from the Pogues wondering where in the hell you are. You were supposed to meet with them hours ago. Shit.

Quickly, you open the groupchat you have with everyone and send a simple but honest text.

Had work today and passed out as soon as I got home. Didn’t realize how late it was. Promise I’ll be at the next hang, sorry!

Hopefully it’s enough to ease their minds. It’s not like you lied either, you really did have work and passed out. Just because you didn’t wanna go in the first place doesn’t mean it’s any less valid.

The thought sort of jars you. You can’t ever think of a time where you didn’t want to spend every moment with your friends, whether it be to surf, party, or just sit with each other. You frown at how much things have changed. You miss-what feels like-the old days, you miss the old you.

Your phone lights up with countless more messages from the Pogues as they take in your response. It's all a bit overwhelming. So, too tired to care you silence your phone and toss it aside. Just like everything else that isn't work, sleep, or bills; you could deal with it later.

Stomach growling, you decide you should get up and try to find something to eat. Making your way to the kitchen you think over everything you have to choose from, which isn't much.

Opening the fridge, your thoughts are further confirmed. It's practically a ghost town in this thing. You haven't had a chance to stop at the grocery store lately so there's not a whole lot to make. It's not like you have the money to go anyways.

Sighing, you close the fridge door and try to be creative with your limited options. Before you can even start to brainstorm though, there's several knocks at the front door.

Your eyebrows knit in confusion as you wonder who in the world it could be. You're definitely not expecting anyone, especially this late at night.

Slowly creeping to the front door, you nearly jump as more incessant knocking rings out through the house. Looking through the peephole your nerves both settle and start up again at the sight.

It's JJ. You know exactly why he's here before you even open the door, and that thought alone makes you nervous. You really don't feel like explaining yourself any further than what you sent in the groupchat, but it looks like that's finally starting to be unavoidable.

"JJ,' you say as you open the door, feigning as much joy as possible to try and throw him off. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? Y/N, what are you doing here? You were supposed to meet us hours ago and you never showed up."

The blonde lets himself in as he brushes past you. Blinking several times at the sudden intrusion, you close the door and begin to repeat yet again why you weren't there. "I told you-"

"No, don't. I don't want to her that bullshit excuse you sent in the groupchat because that's exactly what it is; bullshit."

Irritation flutters through your body as you take in JJ's words. "It's not bullshit, JJ! I did work today and just like I told you I passed out afterwards because of how exhausted I was! I can show you my damn timecard if you don't believe me."

Rolling your eyes you start to open the front door again, thinking it's high time JJ left. He's definitely overstayed his welcome if this is how he's gonna act.

"You know what? I think I would like to see your timecard. How about you show me all your timecards from the past week, month even!? Because it seems like all you do now is work."

The boy's words stop you in your tracks, hand on the doorknob. "I-I do not work all the time." You wince at your lack of confidence. You don't dare to turn towards JJ, knowing he'll instantly be able to tell you're lying.

"Yes you do, either that or you're lying to us, to me, about where you are every time we try to hang out or when I'm just checking in with you. There's clearly something going on." JJ's tone goes soft, concern seeping through his words as he continues. "Please look at me, Y/N."

Slowly, you turn towards him. You're trying your best to fight back tears, every instance of JJ or the others texting you flooding your mind. Every time you told them you had work when they tried to plan something or when you would cancel on them at the last minute when an extra shift opened up.

You thought you were doing good with hiding your problems and your excessive work and sleep schedule, but clearly you were wrong.

"There's nothing going on, J. I just get a lot of shifts at work, it's no big deal." Your voice gives at the end and you clear your throat to try and cover it up, but from the look on JJ's face, he's not believing any of it.

"C'mon, don't you think I know when there's something wrong with my girl?" The endearment has your eyes shooting to his, another sudden rush of emotion clogging your system. It's all too much to hold in, and you can feel the dam about to burst.

JJ apparently notices this too, because not a second later he's rushing forwards, his arms wrapping around you instantly. His warmth and familiar scent circling you.

The tears fall freely down your cheeks, soaking into JJ's soft, cotton shirt. Weeks worth of pent up emotion ravages your body, leaving you shaking and drained.

JJ leads you to the couch, sitting you both down but not letting go of you for even a moment. "Tell me what's wrong. I can't stand to see you like this."

Looking up at JJ, you try to regain your composure as he wipes away the tears on your cheeks. The subtle brush of his thumbs across your skin has you feeling warm and safe.

It's evident by the look on his face that the blonde isn't going to let this go. He'll sit here all night with you if he has to, that's how much he cares and how much he's worried about you.

There's a part of you, albeit small, that knows you should've confided in your friends about everything going on, should've confided in JJ at the very least. After everything you've been through together it should've been a given that you couldn't keep something from him for long.

Shaking your head, you try to think of where the hell to start. How do you just come out and tell someone you care so deeply for that you're struggling financially? Mentally? And that you have been for months?

Considering you don't even know where everything began, you just try you best to recount when it all started weighing heavily on you. You tell JJ about all the bills, about taking on a second job just to barely make ends meet. You tell him how depressed you've felt, how closed off, how tired.

It makes your heart hurt how JJ's eyes gloss over, how he shakes his head and scoffs in disbelief over everything. You know you're struggling badly right now, but to see how it effects someone when you finally say it all out loud makes it seem so much more real.

"I can't believe you've had to deal with all that, that you're still dealing with it." The blonde takes off the red hat he's wearing and runs his fingers through the waves that have been hidden there. "Why-Why didn't you tell me?"

Shrugging your shoulders, you bite your bottom lip to try and hold back the tears threatening to spill again. "I guess I just thought it wasn't worth it. I know you guys have things of your own to deal with, especially you, and I didn't want to add on any more burdens."

"Hey, no, none of that." JJ shakes his head and reaches out to hold your face within his hands. "Don't ever think that you can't come to me with something like this. Sure I've got a dead beat dad to deal with, but that's nothing I can't handle. I wouldn't let anything come between me being there for you. You're not a burden, not even a little bit. Especially not when you're dealing with something like this."

Overcome with emotions, all you can manage is a nod along with a smile, your heart feeing so full and so unlike what's it felt like for ages. Although everything is far from being solved, it's nice to know you have people to lean on, that there's someone who would do anything for you when it feels like you've been alone for so long.

Removing his hands from your face and wrapping them around you once more, JJ hums into the side of your head and you can't help but to let out a long sigh, trying to let go for just a moment and be here. It feels good to be wrapped in the Pogue's arms. To be honest, you could stay like this forever.

Before long, your mind is back to worrying about everything going on, about your difficult situation and how there seems to be no end in sight. "What am I gonna do, JJ?" You whisper while holding the boy a little closer, needing to feel grounded somehow.

Devastated by the broken sound of your voice and heartbreaking situation, JJ does his best to rack his mind of what he could do to help you. He'd offer you all the money he's got, but he knows you'd never accept it, not even as a gift. You're too proud and selfless to ever take money from anyone, especially not your best friends.

The boy grows restless, frustration and sorrow coursing through his body as your story replays in his mind. He can't wrap his head around how this has happened to you. Sure, it's not uncommon for those who live in Outer Banks, but the fact it's you rips him to shreds.

JJ thinks back on what he did when he was strapped for cash. Back to when he had to pick up the slack every time his old man went on a weeklong binge and didn't go to work for weeks on end. Suddenly, an idea comes to mind and the blonde rushes to offer it to you.

"What if-what if I talked to my boss to see if we can get you a serving gig or something where I work?"

You look up at JJ with skeptical eyes, not sure if what he's saying could really happen. "I don't know, J. I mean, are you sure? I tried to get in there when I was looking for a better job, but they weren't hiring."

"Yeah! I know I'm shit for a busboy but my word is good, and with your references you'd definitely get in! One of our servers just quit to go back to the mainland because she couldn't handle island life anymore, so it's perfect!"

You can't help the giggle that slips past your lips. This one sure has a way with words.

"C'mon, Y/N, it would be great for you. The pay is way better than the jobs you have now and the servers even get tips. You wouldn't have to have two jobs anymore and could worry a little less about bringing in money. The worst thing you'd have to deal with is the Kooks, but you know how to handle them better than anyone." A coy smile plays at the edge of JJ's pink lips. "Plus, you'd be able to see me a lot more too."

"Okay, I'd love that, thank you" you reply shyly. Looking away from JJ for a minute, you can't help the doubt creeping in all over again. "What if it doesn't work out, though? What if your boss already found someone. I can't be without a job, JJ. I need to make sure-"

JJ grabs your face, holding it in his hands just like he did earlier. The warmth instantly filling in the cold spots the fear began to create. "They didn't and you won't be. No matter what happens you still have the two jobs you've got now, but hell I'd quit and let you have my job if it means you can stop struggling with those. I mean it when I say, I've got you."

The boy flashes you a smile before leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on your forehead, doing anything to try and get you to feel better. Luckily, it works. You smile back and lean into one of his hands as heat rushes to your face.

"You really know how to make a girl feel better don't you, Maybank?" There's a hint of teasing in your tone, but you truly mean it as well. People may say JJ is a lot of things, but they can never say he's not a good friend.

"Anything for you, baby," he winks. Rolling your eyes, you push away from the blonde before he can get too cocky over the way he makes you feel. There's a smirk on your lips as you walk back towards the kitchen, stomach fluttering for more reasons than just being hungry.

Opening the fridge, you try to scrounge up an idea for what you can offer JJ. "You want anything to eat or drink? There's not much but I'm sure we can think of something."

"Yeah, starved! Forget cooking, though, you don't need to do all that. Let's go to The Wreck, you know I would die for one of Mr. C's burgers."

Laughing, you nod your head as you close the fridge and make your way to the front door. "That actually sounds amazing, let's go."

"Hey," JJ says, stopping you as you put your shoes on. "And don't worry, it's on me."

Tilting your head to the side, you look quizzically at the boy in front of you. "Kie's parents don't even charge us when we eat there?"

"Okay, yeah, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

"You're such an idiot," you laugh. JJ smiles at the sound and at the sight of your eyes gaining back a little bit of that sparkle he hasn't seen in a long time.

"But you still love me, though," he replies, not even needing to ask if that's true as he opens the door for you.

"I sure do."

As you make yourself comfortable behind JJ on his motorbike, you do your best to try and get your mind off everything. It's been hard to feel any sort of ease for as long as you've been dealing with this stuff, but with JJ it feels like for once you can just settle.

You have no idea if JJ's serving idea is gonna work out or what's gonna happen tomorrow. But you know at the end of the day you'll still have him, still have your friends, to help you figure it all out.

It's hard to open up about it all, but there's a part of you that knows it was the right thing to do with JJ. He's the greatest person you've ever met, and you wouldn't trade him for the world. And just like he said earlier, he's got you, and that's all that really matters.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank angst #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #obx x reader #jj maybank #outer banks #requested

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narujenreacts · 2 months

Text

Will Murder Drones get a Season 2?

Alrighty. So, after GLITCH's post yesterday of Digital Circus that also mentioned "We're also working hard on Murder Drones & will be releasing final episodes soon!", which sent a lot of the fandom (including yours truly) into a panic that this meant these are the final episodes for the SERIES and not the 1st season. However, that felt off to me since GLITCH has been promoting MD as Season 1 and not a short series, which, if it had always intended to be only 8 episodes, it would've been. That's just how it goes in the industry for online series. And I believe GLITCH wouldn't make that kind of mistake in marketing. It'd be different too if it was only promoted as Season 1 for the teaser, but it's been that way up until that Digital Circus post. Hell, here are some of the things Kevin and Liam said during GlitchX:

"I remember when we were coming up with the, uh, this is like way before when, you know, Murder Drones was really, like we were really going for a smaller, smaller show-" - Kevin

"The whole oil thing that was getting set up in the pilot, that was gonna be like a MASSIVE sort of plot thread throughout the season." - Kevin

"Because in terms of importance to kind of where I want the story to go, it just ended up being less relevant." - Liam

"We, um, did the opposite of that. I think the series as it progressed, which I think is - it is intentional, I would say. We have gone from, I think, supremely silly to supremely kind of self-serious." - Liam

"There's so many dog easter eggs if you go and watch through the entire season." - Kevin

"We are announcing the finale of the season." - Kevin

With everything they said, none of it sounds like Murder Drones was intended to be a single season series. Now, this leaves two questions myself and I'm sure some of you have, "Why haven't they announced a S2 yet then and why are they barely posting MD?" I decided to enter analyzation mode and went digging through GLITCH's Twitter and YouTube. What I found was that this isn't GLITCH's first time handling their series like this.

Meta Runner Season 1 (Animated Movie Cut) was released on Aug 28, 2020 and in the description Season 2 was immediately announced since they already had it done.

Meta Runner Season 2 - EP 1: Hard Reset released Oct 16, 2020. The final episode for S2, "EP 10: Fatal Error" was released Dec 18, 2020 and there was no mention of the 3rd and final season.

Want to know when they announced it? Not until Nov 29, 2021. Over a YEAR later.

And before that they barely posted anything of MR. At first it was Sunset Paradise, and then once that series was about to conclude they started posting about MD. A lot. Way more than they have for DC. And when they announced S3 for MR they didn't even mention it was the series finale! That wasn't announced until May 6, 2022, 6 months after S3 was even announced.

However, once they did they made it VERY clear it was the final season. 99% of their posts of MR after that mentioned it was the final season.

So, to conclude my thoughts. I don't think we should be worried. I wouldn't suggest getting our hopes up TOO high, because despite GLITCH handling MD the same way they did MR, there's always the chance MD doesn't get a second season. That way we're not deeply disappointed if it doesn't, but after looking into it I personally feel a lot more confident MD will get a S2. Just be prepared that if GLITCH doesn't say anything, it could be up to a year before they do, but if MR fans could hold out for as long as they did, we can too. Don't forget either GLITCH isn't only working on the first season of DC. They're also working on the pilot for Gaslight District.

#murder drones #murder drones uzi #murder drones n #murder drones season 2 #glitch productions

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the-traveling-poet · 7 months

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Hello 🥺🩷 I love your Levi x lieutenant y/n so much and I've been having an idea regarding Levi and lieutenant y/n but I couldn't find any Tumblr who'd make that request come to life unti I saw your head cold fanfic I was just in love . This is the idea I have in mind .... Levi and lieutenant y/n have grown up together from the time kuchel was alive they had a spark between them but after they joined the corps they became more focused on the duties they had and y/n chose to be his lieutenant to silently stay by his side . The scene where Levi was listening to Mikasa , Eren and armin sitting and talking about the outside world and sea after kenny dies , the trip leaves and Levi is sitting there tipsy when y/n comes and tries to tell him to go to sleep but then later she just sits down with him and they have a heartfelt talk with each other and how they have been one of the biggest supports in each other's life throughout their journey , they both indirectly confess how they feel and the other one gets it but they just sit there .

I know my request is very long but I have had this idea in my mind for such a long time I would really really be so greateful if you could make this idea come to life 🥹🙏💓🤍

Silent Confessions

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For as long as you could remember, Levi was at your side. From the moment your mothers met in the Underground and introduced their children to one another, up until you had both escaped that hell hole to become Captain and Lieutenant within the Survey Corps.

Over time, your bond had grown stronger with the more dangers you had thus far faced together.

Now, with a short break to prepare for the upcoming expedition to reclaim Wall Maria, you were able to spend some one on one time with your favorite shorty.

══════════════════════

Pairing: Levi x Lieutenant!Reader

Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, mentions of mental struggles

SFW, friends-to-lovers, fluff, S3

══════════════════════

A/N: Okay YES, I LOVE this idea. So cute I cannot T-T I hope I brought your vision justice!! Sorry it took me longer than usual to post this, my job got in the way BIG time.

As always if somethings doesn’t meet your expectations, I’ll happily re-write!

Enjoy~ 🤎

══════════════════════

The cheers of many drunken men and women echoed off the halls as they celebrated the Scout’s most recent victory.

Yes, many had fallen and suffered injuries worse than death itself, but this was the farthest humanity had come to a victory in…well…ever. So of course, a celebration was in order.

The cadets from the 104th trainee corps all stood around their table, cheering and drinking and congratulating one another on their various deeds, finally at ease enough to relax and be themselves.

You smiled to yourself as you lifted your own mug to your lips, swallowing the burning bitter taste of whisky as it flowed down your throat. You felt good, for once. It had been longer than you’d liked to have admit since you allowed yourself an evening to let loose and enjoy your time in the present.

Downing your second drink, you quickly went to refill your mug before wandering around the mess hall; merely observing your comrades enjoy their rewarded night off.

Along the way, you caught many familiar voices in the crowd, which made you smile to yourself in relief.

Good, they made it back alive.

Seeing all these happy faces around you reminded you of a time that seemed oh so long ago. Back in the days you still had a bright glow of hope shining in your eyes. While you had more hope now than you’d had in years, you still couldn’t help but worry.

For the citizens of Paradis. For your companions. For your friends, and yourself. Would you live to see this war ended? Or would you join your late friends and meet their same fate?

Shaking your head, you sighed.

Tonight is about celebration. Letting go, and relaxing…that’s what I should be doing, too.

The longer you stood there lost in your own thoughts, the rowdier and louder it had become in the hall. Looking around, you found the main source of the sudden bombardment of cheers and shouts.

Between two tables stood Eren and Jean, fists gripping each other’s shirts as they sluggishly threw punches. You were tempted to intervene, but when you saw the calm look on Mikasa’s face near to where Eren stood, you let your posture relax again. The girl was usually so uptight about his safety, so seeing her relaxed reassured the two would be fine.

A presence to your left caught your eye, and you turned towards the man who now stood beside you.

“Evening, Levi,” you greeted softly.

He replied with a click of his tongue, his narrowed gaze never leaving the cadets to meet yours.

“I suppose they should be broken up. Again,” he scoffed, folding his arms.

“Perhaps…Just don’t go too hard on them.” You chuckled behind your drink. Finally Levi shot you a look from the corner of his eye, observing the way you brought the mug to your lips.

“I don’t suppose they had any of that?” He raised a brow, gesturing to your alcohol.

“Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. It would explain the sudden and poorly executed fighting, but I wasn’t babysitting them, so I cant say.” You shrugged nonchalantly, taking another sip as you watched the two boys go at it.

Shaking his head, Levi left your side and strode towards them, but his scowl wasn’t as deep-set now.

“Oi,” Levi called out, now standing behind the brawling teens. Two swift kicks sent them rolling, clutching their sides and stomachs.

“Go to bed.”

The boys started to frantically scatter at his threatening tone, but poor Jean crumpled on the ground. The sound of him losing his dinner and drinks all over the floor made you turn your head away with a grimace, quickly making your way to the door leading out of the hall.

“And someone clean that up,” you heard Levi grumble before the large wooden door closed behind you.

The cool night air caressed your face in a gentle breeze, barely ruffling through your hair. Breathing in deeply, you closed your eyes for a moment; enjoying the quiet stillness that was now your surroundings.

Of course, the banter and chatter of the soldiers in the hall behind you resonated off the cobblestone street at your feet, but as muffled as it was you could pretend you were far away in your own world for a moment.

You started to walk aimlessly, just to enjoy the solitude and the peace that came with it. But after some time, a trio of voices caught your attention.

Stopping in an ally way, you peaked around the corner to see Eren sitting on a flight of stone steps with Mikasa and Armin; all lost in their own private conversation.

For a moment, you contemplated joining them to check up on them, but a sudden shift in shadows to your left had you muffling a gaps of surprise.

Weary grey eyes met your own, looking up at you from the ground where he sat. After regulating your breathing, you offered him a small smile; of which he merely nodded to.

Levi lifted a bottle to his lips and took a couple gulps from the container before setting it back down between his legs and looking over his shoulder towards the street outside the alleyway.

It seemed you weren’t the only one eves-dropping.

You slowly and quietly took a seat beside your Captain, still clutching your own mug in your hand as you leaned against the wall beside him. You both waited until the young trio had left the street to retire the night, leaving you and Levi alone in the near darkness the ally provided.

“Didn’t think you drank,” you commended dryly.

“Just cause I don’t drink at every given opportunity doesn’t mean I don’t drink at all,” he responded quietly, taking another small sip of his beverage.

“Fair enough,” you shrugged, mimicking him and taking a strong swing from your mug.

A silence fell between you for a moment while you gazed up at what little of the night sky you could see from the ally way, before your attention was snatched away by Levi’s sudden comment.

“I can’t understand how they do it. Maybe it’s because they’re so young…But they retain their hopes and dreams, even after all they’ve seen and done.”

You thought over his words for a moment before you replied.

“That they do. They sound so passionate when they talk about their ambitions. I think, with their determination, they’ll get there some day. The ‘sea’ I think Armin called it.”

Levi scoffed quietly, but not quite in disapproval. The expression on his face wasn’t one you could fully decipher.

“I tried that, once; having dreams and ambitions. All it got me was a pile of corpses.”

Pouting slightly, you lowered your head to stare down at your feet, bringing your knees closer to your chest.

“Life is hard. It’s a constant struggle. But if there’s something you truly want…Something or someone you truly love…You find a way to keep moving forward. To keep fighting for that cause. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin obviously have something they truly want, so they keep fighting and maintain their hope.”

Here you paused, thinking over how to word your next question.

“So how about you? You’re still here. You’re still fighting. So that means you have something you want to obtain. Or see. Or someone worth struggling for. What is it you dream about?”

Levi caught your adamant stare, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. He held your gaze as he thought, giving you the opportunity to really study and memorize his features.

Handsome features, you thought.

Finally, after releasing a sigh he seemed to have been holding in, he lowered his gaze down to the stone below him and fiddled with his bottle.

“I’m alive because I need to be. The people need something or someone they can look to for protection. That’s my job.”

“And?” You pressed.

“And? And what? That’s it.” Levi scoffed, shooting you a confused glare.

“No…I don’t think it is. Something’s keeping you fighting. I know you. Since we were children.” You chuckled around the rim of your mug.

Levi grumbled under his breath, making you stifle a laugh and cut him off.

“I’m not sure how much you’ve had to drink tonight, Captain, but I can promise you whatever you say will be kept between the two of us. Just like old times.”

Shooting you one last look from over his bottle, he rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I said, I suppose I’m still going on because I want to see those I…tolerate…live a life of peace some day.” He paused over his words for a moment, but finally met your eye and continued.

“There aren’t many, but for those few I’d do anything for.”

“Awe Levi, am I by chance one of these few?” you decided to lightly tease, leaning in closer to him.

Surprisingly, he didn’t try to pull away. Instead he stayed still, his shoulder brushing up against yours. You could smell the booze on his breath, but you hardly minded.

“Seeing as you’re the only one left alive that I’ve known nearly since birth, I suppose I tolerate you.” He huffed. “You’ve…been there for me, time and time again…I’m not sure what I’d do if you had died with them all those years ago.”

Grief clenched your heart, thinking back to your late comrades. They’d met their gruesome fate on your first exposition beyond the walls.

Lowering your gaze, you gently placed your head onto his shoulder. He flinched slightly in surprise, but again didn’t pull away.

“I miss them, yknow? I know you do, too. But we keep the memory of Isabel and Farlan alive by fighting on. We keep the memories of our late mothers alive by continuing to fight. And though we only recently learned of this, the same applies to your uncle, Kenny. We fight. Cause we have a reason to.” You sighed after you finished, as he remained silent.

For quite awhile, he kept his gaze trained on the ground between his feet, not speaking a word as he downed the rest of his bottle.

“You,” he whispered, suddenly, after awhile of tense silence.

“Huh?”

“You asked what else. What else I fight for, Keep going on for….I want to see you live the life you’ve always wanted.”

His whispered reply brought heat to your cheeks, and you tried your best to hide that with your coat collar.

“You don’t have to worry about me. You’re stuck with me wether you like it or not.” You chuckled, playfully bumping his shoulder to diffuse the sudden awkward tension that surrounded the two of you after his comment.

“Yeah, you made that pretty damn clear when you fought to be my lieutenant.” Levi hummed, his eyes on the now empty drink in his hand. His eyes shifted slightly, and his weight leaned against your shoulder gently. He might not have been sober at this moment, but you didn’t worry. He could handle his liquor well, you knew. But even still, his tipsy words ignited a spark within your heart.

Blushing slightly once more, you averted your gaze from his face down to your hands.

“Yeah, well…You didn’t refuse my request, when I went to Erwin about it.”

“A decision I contemplate every day.”

“Would you have said no, if you knew what you do now, back then? All the dangers we’d face, and the things we had to do?” You asked almost hesitantly.

He paused, seemingly in thought. “No. No, I never would have said no to you. And…I never will.” He finally murmured, nearly in a whisper with slightly rosy cheeks. From the alcohol, or from emotions, you’d never truly know.

But you could read between the lines of his words, and had to bite back a grin. You knew he wouldn’t like to have his words repeated back to him, albeit re-worded, so you kept quiet with the knowledge that maybe….just maybe….You weren’t the only one who had caught feelings after all these years working side by side with your best friend.

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