#or is that your way of coping with your guilt?
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The Crucible [Hotch x Reader]
Photo credits: Left (@roting) Center (@dudeitiskarev) Right (@moodboard-d)
Prompt: Aaron finds himself alone with a homegrown terrorist group whose leader he put away a year ago. He gets beaten, shot, and dumped in the woods where the reader finds him and attempts to keep him alive long enough for the paramedics to get to him.
Pairing: Aaron x Non-BAU!reader, gender-neutral!reader. The reader uses they/them pronouns
Category: angst/hurt/comfort [happy ending]
Word Count: 14.9K
Content Warnings: Food is mentioned, alcohol is consumed, there is a hate group [the bad guys], severe beating [glass broken on a body, unwanted touch, forced drinking, punching, hitting, groping (Aaron)], shooting [Aaron], death by gunshot [a bad guy], gore, mention of past abuse [Aaron], arguing, near death, hospitals, deep concern and coping mechanisms, language. If I missed any, please let me know.
A/N: Hi all! It has been a while, but I am back now thanks to the end of the semester. I hope you are all doing very well! As always, I return with a novel of a Hotch story. I’ve had this idea for months now, and I am happy with how it turned out. I do want to encourage you to read the Content Warnings as this is angsty (though it has a happy ending). If you like this concept and would like to see a part two, let me know. I have many fluffy ideas for Aaron too, and those are coming, pinky promise. I am so happy to be writing again and hope to do a lot of it during the summer. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️
P.S. Special shoutout to @criminalskies for sharing emergency medicine with me for this fic! If I got things wrong, I'm sorry pookie.
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Aaron drove down the lonely highway. He’d passed briefly through Shenandoah National Park. The peacefulness of the trees had calmed his mind for the hour that he was in the park, but as he got back onto the main road, the conversation that was bothering him started to edge its way back into his consciousness. Hotch wanted to close his eyes and potentially scream, but he settled for rubbing his hand angrily over his brow and then his eye bags that seemed to get heavier each day.
Sean had reached out last week saying that he was going to be in New York meeting someone and had asked if his older brother had wanted to get a drink and catch up. To Hotch, this was last-minute planning according to him and his packed schedule. But he’d managed to drag himself out of bed and on the road on Saturday morning. When he got into the city, he and Sean met up at a swanky restaurant that suited Aaron’s taste a bit more than Sean’s. That at least he had to give his little brother credit for.
In their adult lives, the Hotchner brothers had never seen eye to eye. It had only gotten worse when their mom had passed leaving the last real reason for them to be civil behind. Not that they were outwardly hostile, at least they hadn’t been until this afternoon, just that Aaron carried a lot of guilt and Sean had never seen to be able to step past his anger about what life had thrown at him. Neither could be blamed for their responses. But when Aaron arrived at the restaurant, Sean moved forward and shook his hand, and even gave him a hug with his other hand. Hotch returned the hug, realizing just how many years it had been since Sean and he had seen each other.
They pulled back and looked at each other for a moment before moving inside and being seated. They both decided to just have a drink. Aaron got a mezcal mule and Sean opted for a margarita on the rocks. They both did a bit of catching up on their first drink, but things started to get rocky when Sean said, “So, I’m seeing someone new. Her name is Jennifer and she’s got three kids from a past relationship. I’m going to visit her and her family over the weekend. If things look good I’m thinking of moving from Nashville. Or I’ll invite her to move down with me.” Hearing this, Hotch took a sharp breath in. Sean had always been impulsive, but this was a lot, even for him. Aaron had hoped that with time, his brother would have grown out of this lifestyle.
Hotch furrowed his brow and asked, “How long have you known her?” Sean sipped his drink but didn’t love Aaron’s tone. He replied a bit defensively, “A month and a half, but I don’t see why that’s a big deal. I’m just feeling it out, Aaron.” Hotch couldn’t help but scoff and say, “It sounds like a bit more than that.” Aaron’s reply only solidified Sean’s defensive nature, and he replied hotly, “Well what do you mean by that? You don’t even know Jennifer.” Aaron took a steadying breath. He didn’t want to come off as creating a narrative, or not trusting Sean, but Aaron had seen the same thing play out with his brother again and again, and each time Sean got hurt. Hotch looked at Sean and said, “I shouldn’t have said it like that. But what I’m trying to say is that you jump into things. You and I have both seen it before. You say that I don’t know Jennifer well, but from what I’m hearing I don’t know if you know her that well either, and you’re already talking about you or her moving across the country. Does that sound logical or well throughout to you?”
Sean was already heated. Something about Aaron’s attitude made him feel judged. His older, well-put-together brother always had something to say about his life. Sean set down his empty glass and said, “Well maybe you’d know more about me and my life if you called me sometimes. Or unlocked yourself from the chain connecting you to your desk and came down and saw me sometimes.” Aaron sighed and tried to defend himself even though he knew Sean was right saying, “Sean, I have Jack. And my work doesn’t just let me have off time like yours does. Plane tickets go both ways. And you never answered my question.”
Aaron pinched the bridge of this nose. He just once wanted Sean to think through his actions. Sean responded, “You’ve always thought you were better than me. And I think you really stopped caring about me when Mom died. But let’s be honest, you stopped caring when dad passed.” The mention of their family so quickly broke Hotch’s facade of composure and he said, “Don’t bring family into this Sean. You know I don’t talk about that. I care about you and I want you to make good choices.” Sean let out a sharp breath and said, “You don’t talk about it because you refuse to admit how fucked up it left you emotionally, Aaron. At least I can connect with women. And don’t start acting like dad on me now.” Sean’s latest comment landed like a slap on the face to Aaron and he said, “You better not be comparing me to him, Sean. You had better not be doing that right now.” After all the beatings Aaron had taken for his mom and for Sean who always seemed to be getting into trouble during his younger years, the comparison made Aaron feel sick. Before Aaron had a chance to reply or defend himself for making a comment he already regretted, Sean continued, “And I don’t think you're qualified to comment on my relationships or how I’ve hurt people before. Haley dumped you and then died because of you. So I can think of at least one woman who’s been treated worse because of a Hotchner and it wasn’t me.”
What Sean said made Aaron see red for a second. He stood, towering over Sean who was still sitting. It was one thing to have Sean bring up their parents, it was one thing to call him a workaholic and be emotionally unavailable. He knew these faults already. It didn’t really hurt him to hear them again, but the comment about Haley ate at him like acid on flesh. He had tried. He had tried so hard with Haley. He had loved her. He’d loved her with everything there was in him, and yes, it wasn’t enough, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love her. That her brutal death hadn’t torn him open sinew by sinew. Aaron felt his heart pumping in his ears. He was biting his tongue so hard that he tasted iron in his mouth. His fingernails dug into the calloused skin of his palms. If Sean was anyone else but his family, he would hit him. However, after all the abuse Aaron had seen, he made a promise to himself that he would never be violent with his family. It took everything in Hotch to uphold that promise. When Aaron came back to his senses, he realized he was standing. It was a good thing as Aaron grabbed his jacket and moved away from the table. He looked at Sean like he didn’t know him as he said, “Don’t ever call me again,” and walked out the door.
The first hour of the drive back to Quantico was filled with a silence so oppressive that Aaron felt it weighing him down like an iron vest. The next hour all Aaron could think about was what Sean had said, and how he had responded. It wasn’t a good feeling. The way he’d ended things, but he wasn’t sure what else he would or could have done at such a cruel statement. If Sean could say something like that to him, to his face, then he felt justified with his final words of their conversation, even if Aaron had seen shame slowly creep up Sean’s face as he realized what he’d said. What Aaron ended up feeling for the rest of the hour was grief. Grief not only for missing Haley but for what felt like a death in his and Sean’s relationship.
Hotch would have liked to drive all the way home, get another stiff drink, take a hot shower, and sleep, but the fact that he had a drink and it was still a long way off from home made that an impossibility. Aaron checked his gas tank. He did need a top-up and he hadn’t seen a station for miles, however, he approached what looked like a small bar nestled in the middle of nowhere. He slowed slightly and looked at the exterior of the old wooden building with a wrap-around porch. The Coors Light and Miller Light neon signs fighting to be seen in the bright daylight gave away that it was a bar and not some old building with a few cars parked outside. Hotch knew he needed a bathroom and this was going to have to do. It would be in and out. He’d grab a beer so he didn’t look like he was just there to relieve himself; even if that was the case.
Aaron pulled into the parking lot. His hands tapped the wheel restlessly as he picked one of the many empty spaces. Something in his gut felt off, but he blamed it on the argument. As good as he was with dealing with stress, this was different. Hotch dropped his head for a second and tried to get his bearings. When he’d taken a deep breath, he raised his head and unbuckled his seatbelt, opened his door, and swung his feet out onto the gravel of the parking lot. The stones crunched under his tread. Hotch stepped up the three stairs onto the wooden porch. He could tell the building had seen much better days. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was rot in the wooden beams that smelled of pine sap. Hotch opened the door which creaked on rusty hinges, as soon as he stepped into the dim, ill-lit room, Aaron knew that he had made a mistake. There there were five patrons and the bartender scattered around the small space. Three of the big burly men were sitting at the bar, and before they turned around to look at who had entered their space, Hotch could see the symbols of hate on their leather vests The antiquated flag of the South that rested above the bar solidified that this was the hangout for a very particular group of people. If he could, Aaron would have walked right back out the door. Even his more casual slacks and button-down were a far departure from the denim jeans, stained baseball caps, and leather, but it was too late, the men sitting at the bar had turned in their seats and eyed him suspiciously.
It was too late to turn around now and just walk out the door. It would look strange and there was something inside gnawing of him to investigate this space further. Call the FBI with evidence of the type of activity happening here. Not only that, but his bladder protested as well. He quickly cleared his throat and moved into the space and toward the restroom sign on the far wall. He strode with a false confidence toward the bathroom, the men turned back to their conversation but with lower voices. After Aaron relieved himself, he moved from the poorly lit room that smelled like piss. He rinsed off his hands and realized that there weren’t any paper towels, so he opted to wipe his damp palms and fingers on his pants. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do.
Moving back into the bar, Aaron stepped up to the wooden countertop next to one of the men who continued to eye him with distaste. The man behind the bar turned his gaze at the tall, broody man standing in front of him, sizing Aaron up. After an awkward moment, the barkeep asked, “What can I get you?” It was clear from the way everyone was acting that he was not welcome here. At this point, Hotch didn’t want to be here either. After letting out a low breath, Hotch replied steadily, “Just a Budlight.” The bartender nodded and grabbed a clean glass from the cups stacked up on the back side of the bar. He moved to the draft beers and filled the glass to the brim, the frothy head spilling just the smallest bit over. The man didn’t bother wiping the side of the glass dry as he added a lime to the rim. As the red-faced man sat the glass down in front of Aaron he said, “That’ll be five dollars.” Hotch nodded and pulled out his wallet. He made sure to keep his FBI ID hidden as he pulled out a ten-dollar bill. Aaron’s eye flicked up the flag on the wall, and he regretted giving this place any money. But he’d just drink his beer as fast as he could without it looking conspicuous and then get the hell out of there. He handed the man the cash who grunted and pulled out a slightly wet five-dollar bill from the tip jar. Hotch took a few sips from the drink trying to drain the glass as quickly as possible. There was no chance of taking a picture without it being obvious, but he’d call the FBI as soon as he was back in his car. In fact, as soon as he was out the door. As he was drinking, one of the men from the tables near the window moved to the bar next to Hotch.
“Another Coors Steve.” The man who had just ordered was so close to Hotch that he could smell his sweat and very clearly see his hateful tattoo. The fact that the man had that visible in this place only solidified that Aaron would never take this road again. This place seemed more than just a spot for the locals to hang out and chat over a cheap beer. Hotch was halfway through his beer and making good time when the door opened again. Aaron couldn’t help like the rest of the patrons to turn his head slightly at the entryway. Hotch felt his stomach clench as he saw who was walking in the door. All other thoughts left his mind, and his work side kicked in. Aaron knew the man walking in the door well. He’d arrested him one year ago for a litany of hate crimes. The memory of the two young men who had been killed by the man stepping up to the bar with a familiar smile made Aaron’s stomach turn. Roman Invictus LeBrant, formerly Hayden Jude LeBrant before he fell down the alt-right pipeline and joined a hate group was a hard person to forget.
Roman noticed Aaron too. He was the man who had put him away for a year and two months of hell. Half of his time in prison had been spent in isolation for his protection as he kept picking fights with the inmates. Thanks to the fact that Roman had no spine and didn’t want to spend any time in jail, he had ratted out all of his co-conspirators and so-called ‘friends.’ Due to this, he had gotten off with a lighter sentence. The very sight of Agent Hotchner shot a bolt of rage through him. Roman’s face broke into a malicious smile. This time the tall and sauve FBI agent was on his turf, with his people. He didn’t have all of his friends to back him up. The man moved up to the bar with confidence. Everyone in the room's attitude shifted as their chosen leader entered their space. The man sitting next to Aaron quickly got up and made room for the man. Everyone also stood at the sheer presence of the man that they so revered. He stepped between Aaron and his friend. Roman looked at Steve and then to his left saying, “Steve, Dan. How are you motherfuckers?” The felon was so close to Aaron that he was brushing his thigh. The lack of personal space was meant to disturb Hotch, but it wasn’t working. Aaron had set down his glass, his eyes facing forward with a determined gaze. The fact was, as quickly as Roman had gotten out of prison, he had began his normal campaign of terror again. After that the man had made himself very hard to find, and to the top of the FBI’s most wanted list. So Hotch had a responsibility to make sure Roman got put back where he belonged. Unfortunately, Aaron couldn’t just whip you his phone and get the FBI here in an instant, and Roman knew this and was enjoying it.
The bartender could sense the tension between Hotch and his friend but chose not to speak. Roman looked straight ahead as well saying, “Hotchner.” Aaron replied, “LeBrant” in greeting. Aaron could feel his gut clench with worry. There was little he could do right now. Roman had come in the front door and was well aware that he was alone, so Hotch was left with not much more than his wits. He had his small pistol on his left ankle, but reaching for that would do little good as everyone in the bar was probably armed. Roman finally addressed the bartender saying, “Steve, I’ll take a shot of whiskey and one for my agent friend too.” At the word agent, the whole room's attitude shifted again. It was tense before, but now that they knew a fed was in their midst, the tension turned to simmering anger and fear.
Aaron knew that there wasn’t much worse than to be in a room full of people like LeBrant who were angry and afraid. Steve let out a chuckle and poured two generous double shots and placed one in front of Aaron and one in front of LeBrant. Aaron wearily looked at the drink and Roman took him with a single swig before turning to Hotch for the first time saying, “Aaron, I don’t think that drink is poisoned as I just had one myself, so drink up. I think you’re going to need it for what’s coming next.” Aaron met Roman’s hateful gaze, raised his shot glass, and said sarcastically, “To your health,” before downing the shot. The dark liquor burned down his throat and he stopped himself from coughing. As Hotch kept his face straight LeBrant asked, “So, have you liked my recent work? I’d think this is a sting operation on the FBI’s part, but you’re looking pretty alone from where you’re sitting right now.” The large man’s words were true as the group of men in the bar had all slowly started surrounding Aaron and cutting off any escape plans he might try and make.
Aaron was racking his brains for a way out of this situation but the repetition of the question, “Didn’t you like my stunt at that church, Agent? Didn’t it get your blood flowing? It certainly had me, excited.” Hotch cringed at the implication and replied, “I find little to be excited about to send a sixteen-year-old suicide bomber into a church filled with people, mostly women and children.” Roman scoffed and nodded at Steve for a beer bottle. Aaron shifted in his chair slightly which had an impact as everyone, including Steve, pulled guns on him. Everyone, except LeBrant that was. He was the king of his castle and he knew he would be protected no matter what. Roman raised his hands and said, “Easy boys. Take it easy. We don’t want things to get messy, just yet at least.” Hotch swallowed thickly and Roman grabbed the bottle off of the bar, looking at the label before quickly whipping it above his head and over the back of Aaron’s skull.
The sound and feeling of the ice-cold beer and the shards of glass colliding with Hotch’s head was so intense that it knocked him off his chair. Aaron took in a sharp breath as he closed his eyes as the alcohol streamed down his head and wetted his hair and the collar of his shirt. Closing his eyes didn’t help Aaron much with keeping a handle on the situation as he leaned heavily forward against the bar before being wrenched back by serval hands on his body to the center of the room.
Aaron stumbled as he was led away from any support. He could hear a few low laughs at his condition but was more worried about what was going to happen next. Hotch opened his eyes to see the floor swimming in front of his eyes. Before he could even get his feet under him, a knee met painfully with his groin. The pain of the glass tearing open his scalp and the feeling of warm blood flowing from his head was surpassed by the acute pain emanating from his nether regions up his body. Aaron grunted with pain and screwed his eyes shut again. The hot, large hands fondling a sensitive area of Hotch’s body had him open his eyes again.
He wasn’t surprised that it was Roman doing the fondling, thankfully at this point over his clothes. LeBrant spat in Aaron’s face as they made eye contact and Roman’s hand slowed as he said, “How do you like that Hotchner? How does it make you feel?” Aaron’s gaze hardened and he refused to reply to LeBrant’s taunts and demeaning actions. The gruff man gave Aaron’s groin a hard squeeze before stepping back. Hotch had just started to catch his bearings, when he realized he was being supported on either side of his body by two men with the rest of the gang stepping in front of him. His eye caught that his only gun had been taken. Roman, like a shark circling a bleeding victim in the ocean, hoping to get some sort of fearful response. When the man didn’t get one he snarled and pulled out a jack-knife and moved back to Aaron’s face flashing the point of the blade dangerously close to his skin. Still, Hotch didn’t flinch and Roman flicked the knife over Hotch’s cheek drawing fresh blood apart from the red liquid slowly causing Aaron’s vision to be disabled. Hotch naturally pulled back and Roman laughed before saying, “How would you like me to blind you, Aaron? Or cut off one of your ears. Do you think the FBI will still want you after that?” Aaron couldn’t stop himself from coughing out in pain as the men holding him tightened their grips on his forearms.
Roman was happy with his enemy's position, as bloody drool slipped from his mouth and onto the floor of the bar. LeBrant stepped back and stated, “Boys, if you want to have some fun you can. You can blame Agent Hotchner for locking me up for a few years, so why don’t you pay him back in kind? Now, no serious boldly harm, and not too much blood. You’ll have to clean this shit hole up after the mess you make of him, but enjoy for a bit.” Hotch raised his head to look at Roman defiantly, hoping to show that he still wasn’t afraid. Whatever he had planned for him, he still didn’t regret putting him away, and putting him away again. LeBrant met Aaron’s stern brown eyes and sat back at the bar, grabbing another drink like nothing was happening. The man said over his shoulder as the real beating began, “You’re welcome for the whiskey, Hotchner.”
LeBrant managed to down two more beers while watching and listening with a sick satisfaction to Aaron as he got punched, spat on, had drinks splashed in his face, and forced down his throat. Hotch gaged as another bottle was cast aside and hit the wall with the sound of shattered glass. He was beyond the point of silence as he took blow after blow to his face and torso. Aaron was sure his nose was broken as he took another hit to the face and his nose radiated pain through his nasal bridge and up his skull. He grunted in pain as his ribs got another beating. If pulverizing him to death was the plan, then the men surrounding him were doing a good job at that. However, what these bruisers weren’t very good at, and apparently Roman wasn’t good at noticing either, was that Aaron’s DNA was getting spread everywhere in the room from his saliva on the shattered beer bottles, or his blood dripping on the floor, or his hair which had been harshly pulled to jerk his head up. That was the thing about groups like these, they loved to act tough and strong, but their brains weren’t aways fully used. People like LeBrant could use others as a shield, but no matter what happened, it was going to be hard to get rid of every trace Aaron would leave in the space.
Hotch’s hold on consciousness was becoming harder, but he managed to notice when the front door opened again. Aaron had hoped it would be someone who was an outsider like him, someone who didn’t belong here. But the normalcy of seeing a man being beaten told Aaron the new man was part of the group. Hotch’s neck hurt as he made eye contact with the man. He had sandy blond hair and clear grey eyes. The look of surprise and innocence quickly left the young man’s face before anger and hatred took over. Aaron dropped his head not sure what was happening but unable to support his own head. Because of this, he didn’t fully understand why the arms that were holding him up suddenly slacked and there was a heavy scuffle of feet as the floor came dangerously close. Before he could reach the ground there was shouting and then a loud popping sound that Aaron realized was a bullet once he felt a searing hot pain tear through his side whipping his body back and to the ground. The pain was worse than anything Aaron had already felt before now. The pain was so bad that he struggled to get oxygen in and his vision went black for a few seconds before he took a huge choking gulp of air in which only blinded him with more pain.
While Hotch was writhing on the ground trying to get a grasp of what had happened and not blacking out, the older, more seasoned members of Roman’s gang stood for a brief moment of silence, as the men realized what had happened before an uproar started. They dropped their victim and rushed to the newest person in the bar throwing the gun from his hand. Roman stumbled out of his chair, face turning red with rage as he took a breath and shouted at the top of his lungs, “What the fucking hell are you doing Davies? What the mother fucking hell!” Spittle flew from his mouth and Davies, the newest, and youngest recruit to LeBrants' cause swallowed nervously. He hadn’t expected this response. He thought he’d get praise for his actions as he was always told to take bigger steps and take risks for the cause. Greg, one of the senior circles slapped Davies in the face and said, “Roman’s talking to you. Answer him.” Davies stuttered as he said, “That’s the guy that put you away. I thought that I should put him where he belonged. Hanged from a noose or underground. I ain’t got no rope, so I shot the fucker.” Davies was all in and zealous for the group's beliefs and in his case. Roman bowed his head and muttered “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” under his breath.
LeBrant came back to the moment when Aaron let out a soft whimper and placed his hand over his stomach where blood was pooling dangerously fast beneath him and onto the ground. Even in his agonizing state, Aaron knew that the most important thing was to try and stop the flow of blood as much as possible. If it was instinct or training, Hotch couldn’t be sure with the pain he was in. For now, all he could do was try and survive. Roman was thinking the same thing for himself as a multitude of options flashed in front of his mind. He was the leader and he needed to act like one as Davies looked at him like a deer in the headlight while the rest of his men glanced uneasily between Aaron’s hunched-up body on the floor and their leader.
Roman cleared his throat and took a more secure stance, with his feet apart and chest out. An idea was forming in his mind and he just needed his people to fall in line. Roman looked at Davies first and said, “It’s alright son. You did well shooting the fed. He earned it.” With those words, the men seemed to relax a bit and one knelt down next to Hotch to see the damage. Roman nodded a self-soothing gesture before saying, “Okay. Steve. Get us a trash bag or something to stop the blood so it will be easier to clean. Let’s do that first.” Steve rummaged through his back bar and tossed a roll of saran wrap and tape to Greg. Hank another senior member moved next to Greg and asked Roman, “Are we saving his ass?” LeBrant scoffed and replied, “Funk no. Just don’t want the fucker bleeding all over. Now, wrap him up tight, and don’t make it too comfortable on him either.” Hank snorted back laughter and he pulled Aaron’s torso off the floor roughly. Hotch tried uselessly to stop anyone from removing his hands from the gunshot wound, but he was too weak to put up a fight. His large hands were slick with blood as he tried and failed. Greg took out the plastic wrap and pushed the roll to Hotch’s stomach causing Aaron to groan out in pain. The pair on the floor moved the roll over the agent's wound minimally stopping the flow of blood. Davies watched as Aaron convulsed in pain on the ground.
The young man had thought he would feel better killing a fed, but what he was seeing was making him want to vomit instead. When the seran wrap was taped tight over Hotch’s blood-soaked shirt Roman instructed, “Greg, Hank, Davies, go take Agent Hotchner into the woods. Far away. I’d recommend the national park. Don’t kill him. Let him bleed out or better yet, let some animal finish him off. Take him in his car and then when you’ve dumped the body torch the car.” Everyone else, we’re cleaning this place, top to bottom. No drop of blood, nothing can be found here.” Everyone nodded and took on their roles quickly.
Hotch was jerked back to consciousness as he was dragged out the front door. He blearily saw someone open the door to his SUV before he was placed in the back seat. His brain was thinking of trying to run, to call for help, but he was stripped of his phone and hardly had the strength to keep his eyes open. Davies was standing outside the car still not sure what to do exactly, and most certainly not sure how to feel. Roman looked out the window at the man that had the potential to fuck his life over again. He turned to Steve and said, “Go out there and kill Davies. Headshot, make it fast, and don’t let him suffer.” Steve looked up at Roman and said astoundedly, “Roman?” LeBrant turned to Steve and said, “You heard me. The kid’s a liability. I am not going back to that shit fucking hell hole of a prison cell, and Davies seems to be trying to send me there, so go out there and get the job done. Put his body in the truck with Hotchner and tell Greg and Hank when they set the car on fire to leave Davies's body in there.”
It was with blind adoration that Steve hesitantly grabbed his rifle and stepped outside. The young man was still standing while looking at Aaron’s SUV as Greg and Hank looked at a map to decide where to drop Aaron off to have his last few moments of life. They were arguing about accessibility, getting the car in without being seen, and lugging the agent out into the middle of the surrounding forest. It had to be just right without the chance of anyone catching them but still able for two men to pull off alone. They didn’t trust Davies for shit. He was too green for the whole operation. Not trustworthy in their eyes.
Meanwhile, Aaron had gathered some of his bearings in the back seat. He was unhappy with his supine position in the back. It would be far too easy for him to be taken out quietly and quickly after the SUV had pulled away from the bar. While Aaron was waiting for something to happen, he pressed his left hand to his side tightly, grit his teeth, and used his right to slowly inch himself up to a seated position. He was well aware that this position was causing him to bleed out faster, but at this stage, life didn’t seem too long, and if he was going to go out, he would understand as much as he could as to what was happening around him, and if possible, leave traces for the team to find his body after.
The thought hurt Hotch as Jack would lose both of his parents. Aaron held himself back from crying, but the idea of his son being alone tore at him just as badly as the hole in his torso did. Aaron did not expect to see what he did. Just as his eyes got high enough to see out the window, the young man who had shot him had his name called from the porch of the establishment. Davies was about five feet from the bar and turned around. He didn’t see the shotgun in Steve’s hand, but Aaron did. There was nothing Hotch could do but close his eyes just before the blood splatter and brain matter painted the tires of his car. Aaron fell back onto the seat, not expecting to see an execution like that. He was too beaten to get back up, but at least he was laying on his side instead of on his back which would afford him a look out the front window so he could see where he was going or try and make mental notes of some landmarks; assuming that he wasn’t going to be blindfolded. From the state of things outside and groups shouting at each other, Hotch didn’t think that those dumping him would do anything more than take him far out and drop him.
A few moments later the back door was opened again and several men heaved Davies's body onto the floor in the back of the car. Aaron didn’t focus on the body apart from unintentionally seeing what was left of what had been a youthful face. He was unrecognizable now. Hotch closed his eyes and tried to steel himself for the ride to come. If he survived long enough he’d think about the man on the floor -- later, much later. Right now he centered his head on Jack, then on the team who were on a case in Ohio. Lastly, he tried his best to listen to Hank and Greg as they got in and revved the engine.
They were silent as they slowly drove out of the parking lot. The crunch of gravel and Aaron’s labored breathing punctuated the silence. It was clear to Aaron that the two men in the front were remaining quiet so Aaron wouldn’t have any more details about them, their plans, or the organization. He and the BAU had taken Roman down once, and they didn’t want to be in that frying pan again. As they hit the main road, Greg, who was driving, stayed just at the speed limit to not attract any attention from passing cars even though there were none on the road. However, as the car started hitting bumps, Aaron couldn’t hold in his pained grunts and whimpers as searing pain shot through him with each unexpected dip or rise in the SUV. It seemed that Aaron’s pained sounds were too much for the men, and they looked at each other and then the downed agent in the rearview mirror before they both started a light conversation that was fully juxtaposed to the gruesome scene around them.
The men began talking about the weather and then talked about their wives. Aaron could hardly hear the conversation as he tried to keep himself awake. The duration of the car ride took about half an hour, and Aaron noticed one very strange-looking tree that had been struck by lightning and bifurcated down the center almost perfectly. His brain had started to be pulled into so many different directions as his sanity slipped away from the blood loss. His brain wondered how many trees like that got struck annually, and he knew that Spencer would have an answer to that question. The team flashed before his mind when an abrupt halt of the car almost had Hotch fly into the seatbacks in front of him. He managed to not have that happen, and shortly after Greg and Hank were at the left side of the car and both grunted as they pulled Aaron by the legs out of the car.
Hotch almost hit the muddly path, but the two men held onto his underarms jostling him back to awareness. As strong as these men thought they were, they hadn’t realized just how hard it was to drag a limp body around, and Aaron had no strength to walk on his own feet and no desire to help in his own demise. In fact, if he could make it harder for them, he would. So Aaron coughed and made sure that some of his spit and blood got on the ground. Not only that but he also dug his toes into the earth so his tennis shoes left little trails in the mud. Hotch knew that if he was dealing with a more competent group, they would do something about this now, but Greg and Hank were too busy hauling him along to care at the moment. Greg was significantly taller than Hank and due to this, Aaron’s left side was far lower to the ground making the weight distribution of his toned body uneven. After only ten minutes, once the trio had entered what seemed to be a secluded and wooded part of the forest, the shorter man who was carrying the greater bit of weight grunted out, “Let’s dump him here. I can’t keep doing this and then have to trash a car too.” Greg, who was also tired agreed and they dropped Aaron like a load of bricks and took off as quickly as they could discussing loudly that there was a cliff face nearby and it was unlikely that anyone would find Aaron for days. Hotch moaned slightly and took in the scent of the wet earth near him. He supposed that dying in the forest, in nature, wasn't the worst place to go. It smelled nice and if he could only turn over he’d see the sky and canopy of trees above him once more. As his vision started fading again he realized he might not have that chance.
Nearby Aaron’s dump site, y/n had been on a four-day long backpacking trip. They’d asked their boss for the Friday and Monday off months ago. y/n had needed a chance to unwind, be alone, and potentially scream into the void. That type of behavior didn’t normally fly in their apartment and they were feeling so much more at peace after their first day of hiking. y/n had found a lovely spot to set up their small one-person tent for the evening. When y/n had gotten up the next morning and looked down the tall rock ravine, they saw the bolts in the wall from previous climbers. They regretted that it had rained the last night making any climbing impossible. y/n considered continuing moving along the twenty-five mile trail they had mapped two months before, but realized that they weren’t with a group and they were already almost halfway through the trail and could finish hiking it in a full day. Because of this, and because y/n had promised to do whatever they felt like on this trip, they decided to stay in that spot for the day. It was a bit off the beaten track which is what they wanted and in all honesty real life had been so stressful recently that just taking a day to sleep, read, and swim in the nearby river sounded like exactly what y/n needed.
y/n slept in another hour before making a cup of _c/t_. While they sipped their steaming cup, they picked up their most recent book and took a few minutes absorbing the pages of the story making small mental notes about where the plot might go and if some twist was coming in the next chapter. Somehow all the books that y/n read ended up having weird twists that they loved to hate. After getting through their drink and feeling warmed, y/n changed into light hiking attire that could be stripped down for a dip in the lake as long as the water wasn’t too cold or full of bramble from the rain last night. It was a short hike down to the water's edge and it was crisp, but not too cold to for a midday swim. y/n laid a towel down on the rocky shore after getting out of the water and drying off in the warmth of the sun. They dozed on and off as they tanned for a bit. Not that y/n was a vain person, but with the oncoming of summer, having a bit of a tan couldn’t hurt. When y/n was happy with their time by the lake, they moved back toward their tent and supplies which they had put in a bear bag and lifted high above the ground. It was about a thirty minute walk back to the tent when y/n would plan on what to do with the rest of their free day.
It felt wrong to just waste such a pretty day. When y/n was close to their campsite, they stopped in their tracks abruptly. The sound of voices and heavy footsteps is what made them halt. y/n’s stomach dropped for some reason. If they were on a more well-known trail or popular camping site, y/n would likely greet those on their walk in the opposite direction. But this was different. This area was secluded, off the beaten track. And from the sound of it, it was two men moving slowly nearby. y/n had spent enough time outside camping and backpacking to hear loads of horror stories of those having bad things done to them on the trail. Sure some of them were overembellished, but certainly not all of them, and y/n wasn’t willing to take the risk with their own safety. y/n slinked back into the brush and hoped that the men would stop before catching sight of their tent. y/n took slow soft breaths and waited, all there was to do was wait. Just as the footsteps seemed to be right on them, they stopped.
y/n couldn’t see the men. They’d stopped just out of sight. As they stopped, y/n realized that something was very, very wrong. The strong breathing of the men had hidden the sounds of another person. Someone who was clearly in pain. Their breathing was raspy like air wasn’t fully supplying their body. There was also a very painful-sounding grunt as the injured party hit the ground. One of the men said, “Fuck, that’s hard work. I don’t believe Roman’s stories now about all his brawls and picking people up in the clanger now.” There was a grunt and another, deeper voice replied, “Shit man, I don’t believe half of his crap, but he’s the boss. He says jump and I jump. Now let’s get back to the car and torch it. The agent here won’t last long.” The first voice agreed and said, “Yeah. I need a shower and another beer. Let’s hope it’s all cleaned up by the time we get back to Steve’s.”
y/n felt like they couldn’t stand still any longer. The desire to take a deep breath of just look out to see what was happening at the men who were talking pulled at them like an itch. But not all itches should be scratched. Some needed to not be disturbed, and it felt like torture, but y/n held back from moving until the sound of chatter and footsteps were long gone. Even after they were out of audible range, y/n waited. After another few restless minutes, they got up from their hiding position. From the sound of it, someone, perhaps someone unsafe was very injured. Even so, it wasn’t like y/n to leave someone hurt to fend for themself. With caution, y/n moved through the low brush and mud, and after a few paces, they noticed a man lying on his stomach. It didn’t take y/n more than a second to realize that the man on the ground, even if he was some hardened criminal, was unable to fight. Besides this fact, there was the comment about the “Agent not being around long,” so the man might have been on the opposite side of crime. Without hesitation y/n moved next to the prone form in the mud and set down their backpack. The man gave a small sound, perhaps aware that there was someone else near him. y/n looked over the man and noticed the saran wrap around his torso. It was a poor attempt to staunch the flow of blood from a bullet wound. Given how much blood the man had lost, there was no time to lose in getting the man medical help.
y/n knelt down next to the man and noted the thick blood coating his forehead and brow. y/n patted his shoulder, and he managed to open his eyes. Aaron could see the blurry figure of someone kneeling in front of him. He thought it was a hallucination until they touched his shoulder and tried to say something to him. Understanding the stranger's words was beyond all comprehension to him now. y/n could tell that he didn’t understand or see them well, but at least he was awake. It would be in his best interest to keep him awake. If the man slipped off to sleep, he may never wake again. So with that in mind, and to try and keep him in as calm a mindset as possible, y/n took off their jacket which they had tied around their waist, and placed it on the man’s back. It would do for a bit of padding and something to soak up the excess blood. There was no need to cut this side of the plastic wrap, and why it had been added in the first place was a mystery. But that wasn’t the main goal right now. The main goal was to stabilize the man for long enough until medical help arrived. y/n grit their teeth and said firmly. “I’m going to roll you over onto your back and then run to my tent and grab some supplies while I call 9-1-1 for you, okay.”
The man didn’t make a sound, but y/n knew that shifting his weight was going to be painful, so they didn’t waste more time. Given the man’s parlor, there was no time to waste. y/n grabbed the man’s shoulder and hip and tried to slowly and carefully roll him onto his back. As soon as y/n pulled their hands away, which were slick with blood, the man groaned in pain as his body settled. He was still awake. y/n cringed to hear him and said, “I’m going to run to my camp, get some supplies, and call in an emergency helicopter. I’ll be back in five minutes max.” y/n swallowed thickly trying not to be sick at the sight of the man. They grabbed his right hand and placed it over the bullet hole. The man’s hand was crusted over with blood, and it was large. His fingernails had dirt caked under them, and y/n imagined that it might be painful when he got washed up with all the hair his arms had on them. y/n snapped back to the moment. It had only been a millisecond, but in moments of high stress, they always found themselves focusing on the smallest, most insignificant things. They shifted their eyes to the man’s and he seemed to be locked on theirs. y/n nodded their head and said, “Hold your hands here, as hard as possible, okay.” The man nodded slightly, and with that, y/n got up and ran toward their campsite.
It was in moments like these that y/n hated that they didn’t always carry their cell phone with them when they camped alone, but then again, they hadn’t expected to find themselves in this situation either. y/n was an experienced outdoors person. With friends and family that respected and highlighted being self sufficient and being able to take care of one’s self. In their world being unable to handle any situation was a weakness and therefore y/n had pressed themselves to always be prepared. This included knowing basic first aid and other skills that were more niche to their interest in spending a lot of time outside. Although it had been hard to be a parental figure and having to figure out being self-sufficient from a very young age, the parentification had equipped y/n for moments like these, and for meeting strange men in the woods if it ever came to that. y/n ran as quickly and as carefully as possible. It would be no good to anyone if they slipped and twisted or broke an ankle or wrist before getting back to the man. The image of his bloody and bruised body was seared in their retinas. They hadn’t seen anything this bad, ever, and the questions on what had happened to the man and who he was came faster than y/n could process them. It was all a sickening blur. y/n made it to their camp and almost dove into their tent. They found their phone first which was still on the solar-powered charging brick. y/n checked for a signal and let out a small prayer of thanks that there was a signal. Even though they were pretty far out, a signal was more often present than not. And if there wasn’t, there were always ways to contact emergency services, but it would take longer, and there wasn’t time for longer right now.
After one ring the emergency operator answered, “9-1-1, please state your name and the nature of your emergency.” The woman on the phone sounded calm, calmer than y/n felt. Their breath had picked up with all the running, and they had to clear their throat before saying, “My name in y/n, _l/n_. I’m at Shenandoah National Park on the east side camped near Ghost View Lake. There’s a man who needs a Medevac as soon as possible. He’s been shot in the torso, and he’s been severely beaten.” There were a few clicks on the other end of the line and the responder asked, “Are you with this man now? Is he still breathing?” y/n nodded, taking in the person’s words before saying, “I’m not with him right now. He was breathing when I left him. I had to run to my tent to call you and get my emergency supplies.” There was more typing and a muffled voice on the other end of the line before the woman came back on saying, “Please get back to the man as quickly as possible. Do you have any medical training?” y/n nodded saying, “Some, but not much. The bullet seems to have gone clean through though, and he’s lost a lot of blood.” As y/n was speaking, they began packing all of the important things to help the hurt man into their large backpack. By the time they had started zipping up the sides, the operator had told y/n to get back to the Hotch and light a flare for the helicopter to see so they could find a spot to land. The woman relayed that it might be twenty minutes or more before help came, and to keep the man awake if possible. As y/n ran back toward Aaron, they were given more specific instructions on what to do once they were back. y/n kept the woman on the line and as soon as they found an open and dry spot close to where they had found Aaron, they pulled out a flare and struck it against the cap of the flare. Once the melting hot red light burst from the tip like the tale of a demon, they set the flare on a smooth rock, far enough away from the wet brush and leaves to not start a forest fire. Once this was done, y/n moved as quickly as possible back to the man.
Since y/n had been gone, Aaron felt his strength ebb again. Had the person said something to him? The world was dark again and he was beginning to feel numb. But the memory of the feelings of their hands on his, pressing against his stomach reminded him that they had been real, at least for a moment. Hotch also knew that sleep was death, and therefore grit his teeth and pressed against his torso again over his wound. The pain shot through him again, though his time was less intense; he knew this was not a good sign. Just as Aaron felt his hand slipping, he noticed a bright red light in the corner of his vision, and the person who had been with him before returned.
y/n skidded to a halt in front of the man, falling to their knees saying, “Hey, you’re still with me. Good. You’re doing good. Help is coming, I promise.” y/n placed their hands on either side of his head and the feeling of their fingers on the side of his face had Hotch open his eyes slightly. Just the simple feeling of touch was a comfort, even if he was doomed to bleed out on the forest floor. Hotch pondered how funny small things became huge things when life was about to end. y/n noticed his brown eyes on them and said, “I’m just making sure your head is laying flat. Then I’m going to check your mouth to make sure you’re not going to choke on your own blood.” Aaron tried to nod, but he couldn’t manage it. y/n knelt further forward and helped Aaron open his mouth. Thankfully there didn’t appear to be any blockage of his trachea, though his breathing was labored. Where or what that situation was, was beyond y/n, so they moved to the next thing the emergency operator had said to do.
The woman was still on the phone, but y/n was so hyper-focused on the task in front of them, that they didn’t think to give a report on the man’s condition. While he was trying to see the person in front of him more clearly, y/n started pulling things out of their backpack and setting them on the ground, attempting to not get them muddy or contaminated while still being efficient. Once y/n had pulled out their small knife, their first aid kit, and the clean clothes they had, they rezipped their bag and moved to the man’s feet. y/n spoke loudly, so the man could possibly hear, “I’m going to raise your feet. Keep the blood going to your head as much as possible. y/n grabbed their bag and placed it just to the side of the man’s lower legs. y/n didn’t want to shift the man’s body much, if at all, so they had to have things in place. They took another sturdy breath and lifted his left leg just high enough to move their backpack under his knees. The man groaned and y/n said, “I’m sorry. Sorry,” y/n repeated one more time before moving the other leg next to the first. y/n knew that this would be the least of the man’s pain. y/n placed their hands on the ground and took another stabilizing breath, reminding themselves that they could do this. That they could do anything, that they had had to do everything. y/n tried to picture the man as someone they’d protected in the past. Someone that they would do anything for. This helped y/n in moving forward to the next step. Before doing what needed to be done, y/n looked at the man again, tapping his face. Those big brown eyes met theirs again, half understanding, half sad. y/n said more softly this time. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry. Try not to bite your tongue. Keep your teeth clenched,” y/n demonstrated, “like this.” y/n they looked a fool, but what else could they do?
y/n pulled a packaged sanitary wipe from the ground and ripped it open. They rubbed it over their hands thoroughly. When the moisture had evaporated, y/n grabbed their first aid kit and pulled out all of the cotton balls and cotton bandages that were inside. y/n placed them on top of the kit and hoped the no wind would blow the supplies away, there were already scant few as it was. Next, y/n grabbed their knife and opened it with a flick of the wrist. y/n knew that once they made the next move there was no going back until the medics arrived. With a look of determination, y/n shifted forward and carefully slipped the tip of the knife under the plastic wrap covering the man’s front. His shirt protected his skin from the sharp blade from cutting him further, and y/n cut up and out with as much care as possible. The blood made the surface of the saran wrap slippery in y/n’s free hand and the multiple layers were not as easy to cut through. However, after what felt like an eternity and with y/n’s heart beating loudly in their ears, the plastic was freed from his body. y/n quickly closed and locked their blade and pushed the plastic barrier aside along with Hotch’s soiled shirt. Even though the saran wrap hadn’t done much to stop the blood from leaving the man’s body, it’s removal along with the final absorption barrier being pulled aside allowed the blood to ebb up a bit more in a trickle of crimson. Again y/n didn’t have time to look at the deep red pooling up on the man’s stomach. Instead, they grabbed a cotton ball and with as much mental strength as they had, pushed it into the weeping wound. The man’s body jolted in pain, but y/n ignored him and grabbed another piece of cotton and then another, pushing each of the white puffs into the bullet hole. The clean cotton was instantly stained red, and y/n tried to ignore the man’s cries of pain knowing that this was for the best. Keep the blood in the body, get his legs up, keep him awake. That was what the nurse had said and what was what they were going to do. At least to the best of their ability. Another eternity later, the hole was filled. It was still releasing blood but at a slower pace.
y/n grabbed the biggest cotton bandage they had and pressed it on top of the packed wound. y/n placed both hands over this last dam, and pressed down to try and keep the man stable. To keep him alive. It wasn’t until all of this had been accomplished that they managed to look up at his face. The man’s eyes were drooping closed and y/n said, “Hey, hey, stay with me. What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?” Aaron turned his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look at the person helping him. It was a comfort to be in their presence. He still couldn’t see them so he said in a low voice, “Hotchner.” y/n nodded, assuming it was a last name. They were at a loss for what to say next. Nothing felt right, so they opted for questions, easy ones. Or at least ones that seemed easy for them. “Hi, Mr. Hotchner. Where were you going today? What brought you this way.”
Aaron, whose brain had been feeling numb for some time, had started getting more blood circulation thanks to his legs being lifted off the ground. He could feel his helper's hands still over his side. Where he was and what was happening felt beyond him again. He didn’t like the feeling at all, but his body was shutting down and he half-mumbled, “I’m going to see my wife. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.” y/n, nodded and replied softly, “I’m sure she’ll be so happy to see you. And I know you’ll be happy to see her.” It wasn’t until this point that y/n had thought about him as a person. Not actually as a person, person, but as a man with a life and things outside this very moment of survival. But as they raised one hand and just barely shifted his hair that was caked with blood, off his forehead it became increasingly more difficult to see Mr. Hotchner as anything else than a man who is hurt and probably afraid to die. At the person’s touch, Aaron moved his dominant hand up and this allowed y/n to see that he wasn’t wearing a ring. This fact only came to y/n’s mind because Mr. Hotchner had just said that he was going to see his wife. y/n justified that perhaps the man was just one of many many husbands who didn’t wear a wedding ring, but for some reason, y/n didn’t think that this man would be one of them. Something in their gut just said otherwise. A moment later Hotch said something that would shock y/n even more as he said, “I’m worried about Jack. I can’t go away.” y/n looked up at him and moved their hand back to the now blood-soaked bandage and asked, “Who is Jack Mr. Hotchner?”
The image of Jack passed in front of Aaron, and he saw himself holding his child, Jack smiling. Maybe it was Christmas time because the lights were twinkling in the background. Then Jack at his first soccer game came to mind, his little legs carrying him toward a ball he was sure to miss. Hotch blinked back tears as he came back to himself. Weakly he said, “My son. Jack is my son. He’s a good kid. Really good. He doesn’t deserve this.” Aaron was thinking about the very real possibility of his son losing both of his parents, but he didn’t vocalize that out loud. y/n furrowed their brow and said “You’re going to be fine Mr. Hotchner. It’s going to be okay. You’ll see your son and your wife again. I know it.” y/n was speaking to themselves now mostly. The trauma of finding someone brutalized in the woods and the possibility that he might die in front of them was finally settling in. y/n had experienced trauma before, but not like this. This was different. Thankfully y/n didn’t have much time to explore this train of thought as the sound of the helicopter approached nearby. y/n bowed their head in thanks for the sound that drowned out their thoughts and didn’t even realize that they had set their head on Aaron’s chest while still keeping their trembling hands on his wound.
When they arrived, it took the emergency medics a moment to pry y/n off of Aaron as they struggled to let the man they were trying to save go. When y/n realized what was happening, they moved off to the side on unsteady feet and watched the flight paramedics assess and then begin rudimentary efforts to stabilize their patient. y/n watched as a blood transfusion was started and the packing of the bullet wound was made better with medical-grade supplies. These things felt like a blur and as the two-person medical team began moving Aaron onto a stretcher, the sound of police sirens in the distance became audible. y/n realized that the helicopter operator had shared the patient's location and law enforcement was coming to help. This allowed y/n to relax slightly realizing that they were not going to be left alone in the woods once the Medevac was gone.
Although y/n had felt peace knowing more help was on the way, the questions seemed endless as police arrived and went over the course of the afternoon again. They pointed out everything. Said as much as they could remember and watched as the orange helicopter lifted off and moved Eastward. The last thing they heard from the trauma team at the hospital was, “We have a multisystem failure. Patient is already on a transfusion and Fentanyl…” as they passed by,. y/n’s brain now felt like scrambled eggs and they longed for some respite. Eventually, the police said that y/n would need to come to the station and that they could get a ride in one of the cruisers. Behind y/n’s back, the officers also noticed that y/n should also go to a hospital, and driving there themselves was not a safe idea for them. A few minutes later, y/n tipped their head against the headrest in the backseat of the police car simply letting things happen to them at this point. The officers had assured them that a recovery and crime scene team would gather their belongings from their campsite along with their car. This was all for evidence too, but y/n was too tired to comprehend what was being said to them.
A few hours later y/n made it out of the room they had been seen in at the hospital. It was very dark outside at this point but the police had easily identified the man they had found, Special Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner. The words ran over y/n like a wave. Anything would bowl them over now, but finding out that they had found a federal agent near death in the woods was astounding. In the hospital, y/n was given a thorough exam and then given some strong sleep medication and some Benzos so that y/n could have a sound night’s rest. The local police station had called the Quantico Field Office to let the Beaure know that Agent Hotchner was in critical condition at the JFK University Medical Center.
As it turned out the BAU was out on a case at the moment, but the Lead Team Coordinator said they would reach out. Within the hour the hospital and police station knew that a member of the BAU was flying up immediately on their jet and should be there sometime around three in the morning. With this information in mind, the police had asked y/n to stay at least one day in town before going home. The very professional-sounding man, Agent Rossi, who was headed to the hospital had asked them to stay and talk. The police had made the choice easy by booking a cab and a room to get y/n from the hospital to the hotel room they had booked in their name. Thankfully, y/n’s boss, after a few minutes of explaining what had happened, had given them the rest of the week off. y/n knew they would need it. Nothing felt quite real anymore and some more time alone would be good. Before y/n went to call the cab, to get a shower and sleep, they stopped at the receptionist's desk and asked, “Do you know if Aaron Hotchner is in a stable condition?” The nurse asked them how they knew the patient and y/n showed their own medical bracelet and explained that they had found Mr. Hotchner. The man looked at y/n and how tired they appeared, nodded, and replied, “I’m sorry, I can’t share any information about the patient” There was a long pause before they added, “However, Mr. Hotchner is still in the ICU.” y/n nodded, wanting more information but also knowing that they had already been told more than was allowed. With that scant information, y/n moved outside and caught their ride.
The first thing that was surprising to Aaron was the fact that he woke up at all. The feeling of the stiff mattress against his fingers and the crisp sheets covering his body. The sterile scent of antiseptic was the next thing he noticed. He took a few moments to just take in the fact that he had survived the ordeal with Roman. Much of what had happened after the beating in the bar was foggy and beyond his reach. He tried to take a deep breath to center himself but that was a serious error as this triggered parts of his body that weren’t ready to be used that way yet. He let out a cough only exacerbating his pain. The feelings of multiple IVs which he detected now became more apparent and when he opened his eyes, the blurry figure of someone standing came into better focus as the door to his room opened letting in more light from the hallways. As his vision cleared, he could see Dave turn around and greet someone who must have been a doctor. Rossi stepped back a bit, but just knowing Dave was here let Aaron be checked over and taken care of. He didn’t have the energy for much more than being pocked and very lightly prodded before he slipped back into unconsciousness.
The next time Hotch woke, he was more aware. The room didn’t spin and he could see Dave looking down from his seat near the hospital bed. Aaron didn’t know what to say and just said, “Hey.” At hearing Hotch, Rossi sat forward in his seat and softly replied, “Hey there. Looks like you had a hell of a time with Sean.” Sean hadn’t even crossed Aaron’s mind, but Dave’s attempt at humor while he was feeling like hell was actually funny and Aaron let out a half scoff, half laugh before leaning his head back on the pillow. It wasn’t until he tried to move the blanket to feel more covered that he realized his arm was in a cast. His whole body felt numb, and in that moment, he was grateful for opioids. Rossi moved forward and moved the blanket up and over Aaron’s shoulders. Hotch looked up at Dave and asked, “How bad?” Rossi’s eyes moved toward him, a sure sign that it wasn’t good. After a deep breath, Dave said, “You lost a lot of blood, you’re fighting an infection, concussion, broken arm, and multiple lacerations to your head and body.” Hotch nodded, absorbing the information before saying, “Yeah, Sean really did a job on me.” Rossi could see regret in Aaron’s eyes even though the statement was an attempt at a joke. Dave frowned. Something had happened with Sean and it wasn’t fair to Aaron after being through such a crucible that he should feel bad about anything at the moment. Dave thought about reaching out and patting Hotch on the shoulder, but it was likely Aaron wasn’t looking for touch right now, so he settled with telling his best friend that the team was coming to find LeBrant, who had gone into hiding, and how Jessica would bring Jack down when the doctors said it was okay. Aaron nodded again, thankful that Dave knew him so well. When Rossi had given him some time to just relax and center himself, Aaron asked, “Who was it that found me? Have you seen them?” All Aaron could remember about the person who had saved his life was that they had stayed with him. That their presence, even if he had died, had made him feel safe.
Rossi replied, “I haven’t seen them yet, though I’ve asked them to meet me here. There are some questions I still have about their report. They should arrive in a few minutes, and that way you can have some time alone if you like. I did read about them, they’re name is y/n y/l/n y/a and they live in Virginia.” Aaron swallowed, his mouth feeling dry before saying, “I’d like to see them when they come. If they’re comfortable with it.” Dave nodded and replied, “I’ll ask them when they get here. For now, just try and rest. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll get the nurse.” Aaron nodded and let his eyes slip closed again. He could sense that Dave was keeping things from him, about what he couldn’t tell, but he’d ask in time, for now, he was alive.
y/n entered the hospital again. This time it felt better. They were going to get some answers, hopefully, or at least some information about Agent Hotchern’s condition. They’d answer more questions about that information. After the last few day or so the thought of Mr. Hotchner hadn’t left their mind. y/n went to the receptionist who paged another party in the hospital and after a few minutes, an older man walked into the hallway. y/n could tell that he was Agent Rossi instantly. His clothing and demeanor gave him away, along with the deep circles under his eyes. y/n turned toward the man and extended their hand toward him. Rossi gave y/n a reassuring smile and as he took their hand said, “Hello. I’m Agent Rossi. You must be y/n y/l/n?” y/n nodded yes and said, “Yes Sir. That’s me.” Dave gave a small laugh at being called sir, and gently led y/n to a seat on the far side of the waiting room. They both took a seat and there was a moment of awkward silence as they both made mental observations about the other. Finally, y/n said, “Agnent Rossi, I’m happy to answer any questions you might have about my report, but could you tell me if Mr. Hotchner is alright?” Dave dipped his head and pulled himself together saying, “He’s doing better. He’ll have a hard and long recovery, but he’ll be alright. Hotch has gone through a lot, he’ll make it through this too.” y/n listened thinking about the type of person that can say with confidence after such an ordeal that they would make it though. It seemed like a lot, but Mr. Hotchner was clearly cut from Kevlar. y/n replied, “Thank you for telling me. Now, um, what questions did you have for me? I wrote down some notes to try and jog my memory.” Rossi lifted an eyebrow as y/n pulled a notebook from their mini backpack and flipped to a page that had a neat, color-coded timeline of events. Dave smiled at this before saying, “I would like to look at your notes, but I have some questions of another nature to ask first.”
y/n looked confused about what Rossi had said, and he clarified stating, “I’d just like to know if Aaron said anything to you while you were with him?” y/n let out a breath realizing this was a more personal visit. This was to see how his coworker was, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. y/n felt bad for not having thought of that before now and swallowed, realizing this was going to be another layer they would need to unpack within themselves as well. After this thought had passed, y/n replied softly at first, “We did kind of talk, though I did most of it to keep my mind still.” Rossi nodded encouraging y/n to continue, which they did. “I did ask him where he was going and he said that he was going to see his wife. And that he was sorry for his son. He tried to say more after that but it was all sort of jumbled up.” y/n looked up, fresh emotions welling up in them at the remorse that Mr. Hotchner had shown while he lay dying. There was a glimmer of tears in Dave’s eyes too and y/n moved a hand to his comfortingly and asked. “Agent Rossi?” to check in on him. Dave sniffled and moved a handkerchief under his eyes before squeezing y/n’s hand back replying, “Please, just call me Dave. Aaron’s wife passed a little over a year ago. I, I guess I didn’t know what he would think about, but it would make sense.”
Hearing Dave’s words, a pang of hurt shot through y/n. Suddenly Aaron’s words made more sense. He said he was going home and being sad about it. Jack’s name popped into their mind and y/n asked hopefully, “His son, Jack. He said he had a son. Is he okay? Is Jack with his mom?” Dave closed his eyes and replied reassuringly, “No. Jack is fine. He’s a sweet and hyper kid.” That thought, of Aaron’s son being there for him, made y/n feel better. It was strange for them, to have such intense and strong feelings for a man they hardly knew, but then again, they had been through a lot together. There were a few more minutes of silence as Dave processed and moved on by asking to look at y/n’s notebook and to ask questions for them. Looking at y/n’s notes and the very detailed recount they had written was precise and smart. Not perhaps like a profiler, but somewhat so. That conversation lasted about a half hour and Rossi could see that y/n was tired and he still needed to broach the topic of them seeing Aaron, so to take something off of their plate he began by saying, “y/n this has been very helpful for me, both as Aaron’s coworker and as his friend. I know you’ll need your own time to process and work through all of this but I might need to contact you again by myself or a member of my team. Would it be okay if I left you my number and I got yours?” y/f felt a hitch in their breath thinking that this might be over. All the adrenaline came to a big crash like a wave on the rocks. But it had to end sometime, at least they thought so, so they nodded yes. The pair traded numbers and then Dave said, “y/n, I know this has been a lot, but I was just with Aaron and he asked if he could speak with you if you’re up to it. If not, he’ll fully understand.”
At the suggestion, y/n’s eyes shot up in surprise. Not that they hadn’t been thinking about the man twenty-four-seven since they’d first seen him in the woods, but the idea that he would even want to see them felt like a surprise. Curiosity suddenly turned into apprehension and for a second they thought about running out of the room for some wild reason. But y/n came back to earth and knew that perhaps this would be their only time to see the man they’d helped and it would hopefully make things feel more resolved, more final. And they’d have the peace of mind of knowing that he really was alright. So y/n nodded yes and Dave gave them one of his reassuring dad smiles and got up, leading y/n toward Aroon’s room. He flashed his badge when he came across anyone looking at him funnily. At the door to Hotch’s room, Dave knocked and opened the door slightly saying, “I’ve got a visitor for you, Aaron.” There was a muffled response from inside and then Rossi stood back and said, “I’ll be just outside when you’re finished.” y/n swallowed thickly and stepped into the room.
The space was large enough for a chair or two by the hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment that beeped on a cycle of minutes, keeping time. The lights had been dimmed and as y/n’s eyes adjusted, they took a small step closer toward the bed. Mr. Hotchner was all cleaned up from his blood-soaked state and now that he was visible, y/n couldn't help but notice how striking and attractive he was. y/n pushed that thought aside, it wasn’t the time. His dark eyes met theirs, and y/n said awkwardly, “Hello Mr., I mean Agent Hotchner, Sir.” Hotch let out a half laugh and said replied, “It’s alright, you can call me Mr. Hotchner, or just Aaron is okay.” y/n nodded listening to his deep voice. Different than how it had been in the woods. There was life in this version of him, and it made y/n feel better. y/n took another step forward, not sure what to expect.
Aaron watched y/n move forward. They were young. Younger than a normal person should have to deal with such stress and anxiety. He could see their apprehension even as they stepped close to him. Aaron cleared his throat and said, “Why don’t you have a seat, y/n.” y/n did as he said feeling the authority in his presence even as he was in bed recovering. Of course, he wasn’t directing that toward them, just that that power was there in him. It didn’t surprise y/n that he was someone important in the FBI. y/n sat in the chair closest to Aaron so they could hear him better. y/n wasn’t sure how to act now. They wanted to say they were sorry about his wife. But that was too personal. y/n opted for just asking, “Are you feeling okay?” The words sounded hollow in the face of the pain he had experienced in his life.
Hotch smiled slightly, seeing the struggle in y/n’s eyes. He was glad to see y/n. To really see them and know who they were given how they had kept him calm and feel safe a day ago. Once y/n was seated he replied, “I’ll be okay. It’s just going to take time. I wanted to see how you are doing actually.” y/n’s eyes widened slightly. Shone in the darkness of the room. Taken aback they said, “I’m… okay. I always end up being okay in the end.” Hotch nodded, seeing himself in y/n instantly. Another survivor of a difficult life. It was easy to compartmentalize, and he didn’t want that for them. Not this young. So he said again, “I hear you. But how are you, really feeling?” y/n took a deep breath and tried to suppress the emotions before saying in a shaky voice, “Tired, scared and I don’t know why.” Aaron nodded in understanding. He moved his hand toward y/n, not sure what his intentions were with that movement. Hotch replied, “You don’t have to think about it all right now. But don’t let it out with someone at some point it will eat you up. Do you think you can take this?”
y/n knew that Aaron was asking about just life in general. How overwhelming it could be after something like this. They had dealt with these feelings before, not like this, but close enough for y/n to say, “Yes. I can bounce back.” Hotch knew that response too. The bounce back. He didn’t want to pressure y/n to seek help, he’d be a hypocrite for saying so, but he worried. This person had saved his life and he didn’t want to see them crumble for it. Hotch took a moment and said, “Thank you for being there for me. I wouldn’t have made it without you.” Not really thinking he added, “You made me feel safe in that moment. I didn’t know if I was going to feel that again.” There was a long silence after his statement as they both absorbed his words. The quiet was punctuated by y/n’s quiet response of, “You’re welcome. I’m happy I could be that for you, Aaron.” y/n looked over at Hotch and could see there was something there. A bond, a name whisper on the wind, or a star. It was a flicker for just a moment and it was gone, but they had both felt it, some of the overwhelming feelings they both housed within.
In another moment Aaron said, “I’ll let you go, but I’m sure Dave has given you his number, but tell him to give mine as well. I may not be at my best right now, but if you ever need anything y/n, anything, you can give me a call.” y/n nodded and stood wondering if the last they’d ever see of Aaron Hotchner, and was at least grateful for having crossed paths with him. They brushed their hands over his hand for a moment before smiling, saying “I hope you are well soon, Aaron,” leaving the room. Aaron watched as their figure moved outside and stopped to talk to Dave for a moment then disappeared.
Rossi entered the room and asked, “Do you feel better now?” Hotch nodded and replied, “Yes. Did you give them my number?” Dave laughed and said, “Sure did, office and cell.” Aaron huffed but then said seriously, “y/n will need protection for a few weeks at least.” Rossi replied, “Already on it. Or Garcia is on it. Knowing her, y/n will be getting flowers and chocolate for life.” Hotch laughed at the truth in that statement and felt better. Yes is sucked, this sucked, and his body hurt like hell, but he was alive and things would get better. Aaron’s mind flickered back to his fight with Sean and he laid back on the bed with a groan. Dave watched and eventually, Hotch said with his eyes still closed, “Would you call Sean for me?” Rossi had Sean’s number in case of emergencies with Aaron, Jack, or Jessica. Rossi had everybody in the team's close family on that list. Dave couldn’t help but say, “Why do I have to call him, if you do will he throw his phone out the window or something?” Hotch scoffed and replied, “Just about, but I need to talk to him.” Rossi understood and took out his phone and dialed Aaron’s younger brother before handing the line over to Aaron.
Aaron had something planned to say, but Sean beat him to it saying, “I’m sorry, Aaron. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. You don’t deserve it.” Hotch let out a breath and replied as lightly as possible, “You bet I didn’t. But I want to apologize too. I got hot-headed…” Rossi motioned for Aaron to ask if he wanted him to leave the room or not. Aaron nodded his head no, and Dave settled in his chair. As Sean and Aaron spoke, and attempted in their own ways to make amends, Aaron knew that things would get better. There was family, be it Jack, Sean, or the team, and there were people out there willing to help. The image y/n smiling down at him filled him with a strange warmth, and he let the image and feeling linger as Sean went on about his day.
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Okay okay, hear me out…what if the reader was a ninja part of the team but they would also be involved in a prophecy where they end up dying to save their lover, I need the ninja reaction to when Master Wu tells them 🫶🏻
This is actually so sad, tho.... I love it! 🤭😝 I was a little stuck on writing, but I hope I was able to deliver what you wished for 😚🫶
~~~
What would be the ninjas reactions be as the prophecies says they're lover will die for them?
~Lloyd Garmadon~
- Denial is a river in Egypt. Refusing to believe that they would die for the sake of his life.
- No matter how many times he convinces himself, he knows truly he can't do anything to stop it. Further pushing him into no limits of getting stronger to maybe, just maybe prevent it?
- Keeping a watching eye at you at all times to see if you're safe, more so in battles or training.
- Would try to convince you to do other tasks rather than join the team if he knew it could be risky for either you or himself.
- Consently tries to spend as much time with you so that when the time comes, he could make sure to not regret a moment.
- Would often spend time silently watching you just live and socialise with others, his heart falling into his stomach.
- Admiring you and everything about you as a person.
~Kai Smith~
- At first, he just laughed and shook his head. There was no way.
- After maybe a few hours or days, the gravity of it all dawned on him. He couldn't help but feeling so hopeless and useless to not be able to help or postpone it or anything for that matter.
- His mind of having a feature together with you was immediately crushed, all the plans of being able to hold you at night and talk into the long hours of the night.
- In the meantime, he changed a little for you as in allowing you to goof around with his hair as an example.
- Holding hands no matter where you walked to feel you close just to know you weren't gone. Not yet at least.
-Knowing he was absolutely broken after when Nya was gone, he would be just the same with just worse of completely letting guilt eat him up in silence. He would refuse to let anyone know how he felt.
As the hothead, he is the practice dummys would be all burnt to crisp
~Cole Brookstone~
- Again?
- Really? First, his own mother. Now, the one person he loves with the whole being of himself
- No matter how much he tried to collect himself, he could easily take it out on training.
- Would at some point start to distance himself from you so when the time came, the impact would be less painful.
- Didn't want to be like his father with absolutely neglecting everything when you we're gone, but anyhow, he tried to smile to everyone and act chill like he usually would.
- Often held his breath when holding you close, wishing for these types of moments to never end.
~Zane Julian~
- He was obvious to the fact that the one he loves could so easily die, but he could live on for many years on.
- Has already been over this with himself, but hearing it being sooner than expected shocked him.
- Acting no different than normally maybe a few occasional more hugs throughout the day, nothing too out of the ordinary.
- When he was alone, his way of grief was meditate. Maybe it could make the damage a little easier for his wires to handle?
- Occasionally turning off the emotions to just feel as if he could "breath" as it did get to his head at times more than he'd like to admit it ever did.
~Jay Walker~
- Immediately lost himself as he shook his head, refusing to belive what a dumb scroll had to say! It's dumb right?
- Spending every waking minute of his day with you by his side, alongside helping you with everything he could think of.
- Coping with occasionally stealing shirts with your smell on them to feel as if you mext to him, even though you are just a few doors down or so
- Would slowly communicate with others as he became more silent, which scared everyone. Everyone stood on their toes around him to not further upset him.
- He came in clutch and used every single excuse possible to man kind to have you for himself the first week or two after getting to know. He felt kind of pushy so he calmed down a little.
~Nya Smith~
- She genuinely just accepted it, what more could she say? The prophecy says so, she cannot deny it no matter how much this frustrated her.
- Checking up on you and acting for the most sake normal, as to not make you uncomfortable or worried for her sake.
- Used any or all frustration on training her powers in different ways, which was beneficial for her in the long right?
- Just like her brother, there was no communication from her side. Whenever the topic of prophecy popped up, she went silent and stood next to you, holding pinkys.
- Would cry to herself whenever everything got to her, just knowing you're gonna to eventually leave it snapped her multiple times. She would always refuse.
~~~
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Fuck it I guess we're just starting the conversation ourselves. We're traumagenic and have OCD and schizophrenia and the trauma that comes directly from experiencing intrusive thoughts and psychosis is inseperable from our origins and how we function.
Its extremely likely given both our roles and relative ages that smile and I were both some of the earliest splits and also splits entirely due to the trauma associated with our OCD and psychosis.
One of the most common type of intrusive thought we get is violent ones, the best way to describe them is imagine something like House of 1000 Corpses or a Gore Horror film staring the people closest to you.
Constantly every day no matter what we did we saw the most graphic and horrifying stuff you could imagine. Sometimes it was done by others sometimes we were the ones doing it. We had no safe space from it and were near constantly in fight or flight mode.
I am an introject of War from Good Omens*, a large part of what I did and do is deal with the intrusive thoughts because the violence does not bother me in the same way as the others. I don't experience the shock or guilt associated with intrusive thoughts and while others have been able to learn coping skills via therapy that was a years long effort and isn't an innate skill.
My ability to do what I do was essential to our survival as a child and teen because if we didn't have anyone who could deal with our intrusive thoughts we'd have been dead years before we entered therapy.
smile holds most of the symptoms of our schizophrenia, and while we didn't experience the full disorder until our later teens we have dealt with hallucinations and delusions on and off since childhood. The ones that disturbed us the most as a child were two different somatic delusions**. One that we are dead and rotting and another that we are a void in existence.
smile's identity is both extremely linked to the concept of death and it itself is a void. it fronted during those episodes because it was much less bothered by said delusions. In the same way that my existence allowed us to survive our OCD smile allowed us to deal with our psychosis.
Both of us are the oldest active members and have some of the steadiest and longest running roles. Our experiences with trauma afyer affected us but our OCD and schizophrenia are inseparable from our being a system and how we function.
Traumagenic spaces are often extremely difficult to navigate for us because much of our trauma and how we function is innately tied to the trauma the came directly from our brain. We did experience trauma outside of that but what drove our formation and functions was OCD and schizophrenia.
That's extremely difficult to speak about when whenever exo/psuedomemories come up the main thing that gets said is that you can't have trauma from something your brain came up with on its own.
We get that our experience isn't the most common but we are not the only system with OCD, schizophrenia, or other psychotic disorders and the traumagenic community is failing those of us with these disorders.
-Scarlet
As usual tangents are below the cut for length
*Before anyone asks how I could be one of the earliest and from Good Omens, I'm from the book not the TV show. I'm over a decade older then the TV show.
** We also have a lot of shadow and void based hallucinations. smile's existence in our collective has helped with the anxiety associated with those. The shadow people and wolves are less terrifying when you have the void of all things in your head hanging out.
#pluralgang#traumagenic system#pro endo#sysconversation#syscourse#in the way that trauma discourse ends up being syscourse so often#collective chatter#accounts and narratives
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❤️🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️🩹
Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.
Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC
Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS
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Ch. 22: Healing
Yoongi has come a long way, but he knows it’s only the beginning. He’ll be going home where he will be left to try controlling himself in this unpredictable world. He’s confident though and ready to face those tests. The first test is coming a bit sooner than he expected as he looks at Hyeri’s pained face as he’s sitting next to her on the couch. She said they needed to talk about something but it’s not easy.
Hyeri is trying to find the words to say but she’s struggling. She hates confrontation and tough conversations, but she hates the painful unease in her heart even more. So she starts with the straight facts. She tells him the situation with his Black card. She tells him about the call she had with the attorney and all of the information he gave her about Chelsea. She tells him about her taking photos of his license and passport. She tells him everything.
Yoongi can only silently listen to her and try to quell his feelings of shame, guilt, and regret. She’s trying to remain neutral as she’s talking, but he can see in her eyes how much it pains her.
“Yoongi,” Hyeri says once she’s done telling him everything. “Will you be honest with me?”
“Of course,” he nods knowing it certainly won’t be easy.
“Why did you let her in your room?”
“I-“ he pauses trying to find the answer. Truth is he can’t remember much of anything. He’s only just now finding out that the woman’s name was Chelsea. “I don’t know.” He hangs his head in shame.
“Did you always bring people back to your room?” Hyeri’s tone is soft and unassuming. It’s not her intention to interrogate him or make him feel bad, she just wants the truth.
“No,” he replies. “Never. I…there was one that drove me to my hotel but that’s all. She-Chelsea is the only one that had been in my room.”
“Ok.” She takes a big gulp and opens her mouth hoping she doesn’t regret asking. “If they weren’t in your room then…where were you…doing…stuff…with them?” She instantly regrets it. She doesn’t want to know. She doesn’t need to know. Her heart is beating wildly out of control.
“Hyeri…” as much as she hates that she asked, he hates that he has to answer. “It was usually in a car or…wherever…”
“Wherever?” She tightens her fists briefly. She didn’t want to ask. She doesn’t want to know.
“Anywhere that was dark or secluded. I don’t know, Hyeri.” He huffs starting to get frustrated with himself. He feels like a piece of shit and even more so because he can’t even remember much of anything.
“Yoongi, how many were there?” She doesn’t know why she asked. It’s only getting worse and now she wants a drink to get herself to stop asking questions.
“Hyeri,” he sighs in exasperation. “I-I don’t know. I was so fucked up the whole time, I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for being a piece of shit. You deserve a better answer than what I’m giving you, but I truly can’t remember anything. I was so fucked up.” He’s trying to hold back tears but it’s nearing impossible.
“Yoongi,” she says softly.
“At least 6, maybe 7,” he spits out. “I don’t know, fuck! It was whoever offered at the right time.” He inhales sharply. “It was never about them. It was never about you. It was all me and I wish each and every single day I could take it all back. I didn’t want to face my feelings so I tried to be someone else, but I still made such a mess of everything and I regret it all.”
“Yoongi,” she repeats with a quiver. “Did you even think of me at all?”
“Yes!” He blurts in an explosion of tears. “Every fucking day! I know I told you to stop trying to talk to me, but every day that you didn’t broke my heart. I was so stupid, Hyeri. So stupid for trying to drink my feelings away. I wanted to die because I’ve been so terrible to you. You deserve the world, not a fuck up. You’re the greatest thing that has ever happened to me and every day I’m so grateful that you still stayed by my side. You don’t deserve any of what I put you through. I’m so sorry, Hyeri.”
“Yoongi,” she squeaks out past the knot in her throat. “I have to tell you something.”
There has never been a string of words that has caused him more anxiety, but he looks on through his tears hoping what she says next doesn’t break him.
“After you guys left for the start of the tour, I thought that I might have been pregnant.” Hyeri can already feel the bittersweet wave of emotions taking over as she reveals what she had truly been going through while he was across the world ignoring her.
“You what?” He asks in complete shock.
“I wasn’t going to tell you until I was sure. I wanted to tell you in person when you got back. I was scared, but at the same time I was so excited thinking of the possibility of having a baby with you. Then JJS confirmed the rumors of me and Kihyun and every little ounce of happiness I felt was gone. I was scared, Yoongi. You have no idea how scared I was.” She takes a breath as tears begin rolling down her face. “I wanted to say something to you but I had no idea how. I wrote and deleted so many messages that I wanted to send to you. I stared at my phone with my finger hovering over your name trying to call you but I couldn’t find the strength. I knew I had fucked up when Kihyun told me he talked to you. You should have heard it from me first and for that I will always be sorry. I was stressed out because you wouldn’t talk to me. I was more stressed out when I saw how bad you looked on tv. The worst feeling was thinking I’d lost the love of my life at a time when I should have been so excited about our future.”
“Hyeri, please,” Yoongi interrupts trying to get at least a brief moment to process what the hell she’s saying.
“Yoongi,” she continues. “I couldn’t sleep, eat, or breathe. I was hurting so much and I blamed myself for it all.”
“Hye-“
“I need to get this out,” she asserts. “You have to know. You have to know how I really felt during that time. You have to know how much shit was going through my head when you weren’t talking to me. You have to know that I was fearing for more than just our relationship. I thought I was about to lose everything, and when I would normally be able to lean on you, I couldn’t. I was scared and alone, Yoongi. That’s why I went out driving that night even though I was exhausted. I wanted to clear my mind, but I also was hoping I’d find the strength to drive off and never come back.”
“I’m so sorry,” he cries.
“It hurts me so much to know that you were with complete strangers, one of which a criminal, while I was home worried about my career, my relationship, and the possibility that I could be a mother.”
“Stop,” Yoongi chokes out. He can’t hear any more of what she’s telling him. His chest is twisted up inside and he’s afraid he may stop breathing if she says anything else.
“I’m not pregnant,” she reveals as the tears rapidly escape her eyes. “They tested me at the hospital after my accident and confirmed that I’m not actually pregnant. I was relieved but at the same time so sad. I was starting to get used to the idea of having a baby, but I knew it wasn’t the time. Not when I couldn’t even get you to talk to me, but I felt a change after that. I don’t know how to explain it, Yoongi, but after that I decided I didn’t want to be the same person anymore. I wanted to fight for myself and us, so I did. But I had no idea…”
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he says again with the guilt burning his skin through his flow of tears.
“If I had known at the time…I don’t think I ever would have forgiven you.” Hyeri breaks down and takes a moment to gather herself. “Actually, I hadn’t forgiven you at all. Nothing has ever hurt me so much in my entire life.”
“Hyeri,” Yoongi exasperates through sobs. He really wishes she would stop talking.
“I came here to prove to myself whether I could forgive you or not. I needed to see you and talk to you face to face to find out if I would truly be ok carrying on like this. I needed the truth from you to ease my mind.” She pauses with a sigh hoping Yoongi is doing as well mentally as he appears physically. She’s saying these things for her own healing, but she knows there’s a risk that it would make him feel bad and potentially cause him to crave a drink or anything else that may be self destructive.
“I’ve never been so disappointed and proud at the same time,” she continues. “I wanted to hate you when I got here, but when I saw you I felt like it was the beginning of our relationship again. Seeing you looking so healthy made my heart race like the first time you invited me over to your place.” She takes Yoongi’s hand and raises one corner of her mouth into slight smile. “Suddenly all I could think about was that first morning after I stayed the night I tried to make you breakfast but I couldn’t figure out how your fancy toaster worked,” she chuckles giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Even now after everything you’ve just told me, my mind can’t help but go back to how our walk outside reminded me of the midnight walk we took around the parking garage that one time when we couldn’t sleep.”
“Hyeri,” he says softly trying to stop her again before he starts crying more. He’s managed to pull himself together a little but her trip down memory lane is starting to pull his emotions out again. “You just said so much.”
“I know, but I needed to, and now…I feel much better.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah,” she nods. “I’ve been holding on to that for so long and I shouldn’t have, but I felt like I had no one to go to because I didn’t have you. Even when I got you back you still weren’t you. I tried talking to Namjoon, but there’s no way I could tell him I thought I was pregnant.”
“Pause,” Yoongi says raising his hand. “Can we talk about that.”
“I told you I’m not actually pregnant.”
“But you thought you were? How? Why did you think that?”
“My period was late so I was worried. I only took the test to make myself feel better because I thought there wasn’t a chance I would be. Then it came back positive but I guess that was just a faulty test or something. You can breathe a sigh of relief,” she jokes.
“Right,” he chuckles. “I hate that I wasn’t there for you. I hate a lot about what I’d done, but if you give me the chance I promise I will never hurt you or leave you lonely again.”
“Can we start over?” She asks hopeful. “Can we pretend this is the first night I stayed the night with you?”
“Start over?” He smiles.
“Yeah,” she nods. “I mean I’m not saying we pretend like nothing has happened. I feel like the wounds are still fresh, but this can be our new beginning. A new chapter where we learn from our mistakes and communicate with each other better. Can we do that?”
“Of course we can,” he says reaching up to stroke her damp cheek. “I promise I’ll never put you through this shit again.”
“And I promise I won’t let anything get between us. No agencies telling me what to do. I want to just let go and finally have control of my life and career.”
“Then let go,” Yoongi encourages. During his time here he’s done a lot of letting go. There’s still a lot more for him to let go of, but he can see Hyeri holding things in holds her back from being the brave and confident person he knows she can be. “I want to show you something.”
Yoongi stands and reaches his hand out for hers. She isn’t sure what he suddenly wants to show her, but she stands putting her hand in his and following him outside. He takes her around to the back of the cabin where there’s nothing but trees as far as they can see.
“This is something Minho had me do one day,” Yoongi says looking out into the distance. “Everything you’ve been holding in, let it go.”
“Huh?” She questions tilting her head.
“He had me come out here and let everything out.” He looks at her confusion but carries on. “He told me to take a deep breath and feel everything I have in me. Then let it go when I exhale. It seemed stupid at first but it actually helped a lot.”
“Take a deep breath and let it go?” She asks.
Yoongi nods. Hyeri looks out to the tree filled landscape and slowly inhales a deep breath. She holds it a few seconds then lets out a heavy exhale. She does it once more then looks at Yoongi as if looking for him to tell her she did a good job.
“After everything you just told me?” Yoongi asks shaking his head with some amusement. “That’s all you can let out? Don’t hold back.”
Hyeri nods and takes another deep breath. She thinks of how much time she spent worried about Yoongi and his health. She exhales into a brief groan that barely startles a fly. Yoongi chuckles.
“You can do better than that,” he says. “You said you wanted to let go, so let go.”
This time she takes a much deeper breath and holds it. Everything she’s been holding on to goes flashing through her mind. The nights alone wondering if Yoongi would ever speak to her again. The fear she’s continuously carried about losing her career. The constant anxiety and depression JJS put her through. The invasion of privacy and never ending rumors. The fear that she’d finally get the call that Yoongi had drank himself to death. The absolute gut wrenching pain of knowing he was intimate with multiple people while she was at her lowest.
Every little thing came flying through her mind with that inhale, and she unleashed it with a long high pitched scream that gradually swelled into a deep roar. She held it until she had nothing left in her and collapsed into Yoongi’s waiting arms. She takes a moment to catch her breath and find her footing, then she turns to look at Yoongi.
“Why,” she starts. “Why does it feel so…freeing?”
“It works, doesn’t it?” He smiles seeing the delight in her face.
“I just let it all go like you said. Everything. I let it out into the universe.” She rises up on her toes and plants a big kiss on his lips. “I want to let everything out into the universe.”
“Go ahead,” he encourages, smiling at the way she’s bouncing with excitement.
“I’m going to fucking kill this new role!!” She shouts into the distance. “I’m going to make JJS pay!!”
“Hell yeah!” Yoongi cheers.
“I’m more than just…just a FUCKING BABY!!!” She shouts bouncing on her toes even more. “I’m in FFFFFFUCKING LOVE WITH MIN YOONGI and I don’t want to HIDE IT ANYMORE!!!!”
“Wow,” Yoongi whispers in amusement.
“This is awesome!” She cheers still bouncing with adrenaline. “This whole place is awesome!”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’ve enjoyed myself here. Kind of sad that this will be the last night.”
“Then let’s make it count,” Hyeri smiles.
She throws her arms around Yoongi’s neck and hits him with a big kiss. A big, lingering, passionate kiss that passes her overflowing electricity through his body. No kiss has ever felt quite as satisfying as this one. His arms hold her tight around her waist as if it’s the first time he’s ever held her. She was right, he feels like it’s their first time all over again. The first time his hands explored every ridge of her body. The first time his lips swallowed hers and his tongue tasted how sweet she is. The first time he lifted her petite frame and wrapped her legs around his waist, except instead of carrying her to his bed like the first time, he’s carrying her inside to the dining table. He sets her on the top of the table because he simply can’t go any further. He’s letting impatience win this time.
“I love you,” he whispers into her mouth as he lays her flat on her back.
“I love you more,” she smirks. One thing she knows he loves to do is prove that he loves her more whenever she dares to challenge him.
“Don’t test me,” he smirks sliding his hand under her shirt.
She lets out a soft exhale at the feeling of him gently caressing every inch of her skin. The wave of goosebumps that prickles her entire body when he removes her shirt reminds her of the first time he pulled her into an embrace. The butterflies erupting when he lightly kisses a trail from her neck to her belly button takes her back to the first time she laid before him completely naked and his lips praised every part of her as if she were a goddess. The chill of the air hitting her erect nipples when he removes her bra doesn’t last long before he glides his warm tongue across each one.
He’s seen her like this many times. He’s marveled at her beauty while undressing her numerous times. It’s not the first time he’s taken his time to undress them both then stand over her wondering how he got so lucky. But it feels like the first time for them both. This euphoric build up of feelings and emotions mixing together when he bends down to kiss her softly as he teases her.
With a slow, gentle glide Hyeri exhales as if all of the pain she’d gone through were released in that single breath. She reaches for the back of his neck and pulls him closer to her. She needs to feel his skin against hers as his hips move to a steady rhythm. For every breath she releases, he feels more determined to love her the way he’s always felt she deserves. He’s more determined to make sure she’ll never regret giving him another chance. Every thrust is burning with determination. Every baritone moan is sharp with thunder. Every bit of salty skin his tongue tastes feeds his starving heart.
“I love you,” he growls.
The deep rumble of his voice is enough to make her hold a grip around him like she never has before. Her love is about to explode out of every part of her body and there’s no way she can stop it. There’s no way she wants to stop it. She breathes her love into him every time his hips connect with her pelvis. She’s so close. She’s so in love.
“Yoon…” she squeaks as she arches her back and digs her fingers into his back leaving red marks along his pale skin.
Yoongi holds her tighter chasing the release they’re both so close to. He wishes she’d never stop leaving marks on his back. He wishes she’d never stop calling his name. All of the sounds in the world could not compare to the sound of Hyeri moaning his name as she loses all control and melts underneath him. It powers him to his own climax that hits him so hard he has to pull Hyeri up to his chest and hold her tight until every bit of his love is released.
He peppers her lips with a few kisses then pauses just to look at her. Her love drunk face pulls a satisfied smirk from him. He’s never been so undoubtedly in love since he discovered music. He’ll do the dumbest shit for her, but he’ll be sure to never hurt her again.
#bts#bts au#bts fanfic#bts fic#cross posted on ao3#bts smut#angst#tw depression#bts fluff#tw alcoholism#bts angst#min yoongi#Suga#yoongi x oc#Suga x oc#yoongi au#suga au#yoongi angst#suga angst#yoongi fluff#suga fluff#yoongi fanfic#suga fanfic#yoongi smut#suga smut#yoongi fic#suga fic#established relationship#idol au#Yoongi
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Oh snap! Is it Chara backstory time?
FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT
MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)
#undertale#deltarune#crossover#crossover comic#utdr#undertale fanart#deltarune fanart#twin runes#twin runes comic#my art#ralsei#chara#frisk#jeez chara#stop joking about your own death#that's not funny in the slighest#or is that your way of coping with your guilt?#Ralsei knows things that we also dooooo#he DOES know about the player#pretty sure he noticed the Player's disappearance is related to Frisk and/or Chara
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An aspect of Hilda the series that I feel isn’t talked about enough is the colonizer’s guilt and how it affects the main character.
What made me write this was watching the third episode of the new season, but honestly, it’s something we see throughout the whole series. Starting out with the elves in the northern counties, and moving on to trolls and now giants. Every season that came out gave us a chance to see Hilda deal with the feelings that arise from living in a society she knows is built on the occupation of another people’s native land and the oppression of those inhabitants.
She knows it’s not her fault, she knows she’s not the colonizer, but she’s well aware that she’s in the privileged side of her society. Seeing her grapple with the fact that her very existence in these spaces is only possible because someone else is getting the short end of the stick, to me at least, makes her that much more interesting of a character.
Because it’s not a matter of fixing what she’s done, but the privilege is still there and not even well hidden when she sees the day to day life of the people whose land has been occupied by humans/trolbergians. So whenever we see her rush to aid them, her borderline desperation to fix what’s been broken, it’s even more captivating because it’s not just the usual “I love helping people and having adventures” gist, there’s always this undertone of guilt for something she hasn’t personally done but still knows has to be held accountable for.
Hilda knows the type of oppression that people like her get away with. And she wants no part in it.
#OP HAS ONLY WATCHED UP UNTIL EPISODE THREE YET!!!!!!!!!!#DONT TELL ME IF SHE TURNS OUT TO BE SOME SORT OF ALSO COLONIZED CODED MAGICAL CREATURE!!!!#but even if it’s the case. she still *grows up* thinking she’s in the ‘part of the problem’ side of things#and very much gets treated like so. so. you know. privilege either way#as a white Brazilian person this makes the character that much more relatable to me#there’s always this sense of guilt even if you know you’re trying your best to not be part of the problem#we’re already part of the problem. living where I live is only possible because of many years of violence against another culture#and we need to learn to live with it and fix what’s salvageable#and that’s what’s so juicy about Hilda. because she GETS the chance to fix it#and she DOES. and watching her cope with *why* those people need to be saved in the first place#is what makes her so interesting to watch to me#Hilda spoilers#Hilda s3#Hilda s3 spoilers#Hilda season 3#Hilda the series#Hilda netflix#Hilda (Hilda)
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DATING IS SO HARD WTF
#vent to follow in the tags lmao#like. what????#people!!! chill the fuck out!!#i had some dude unmatch with me bc i didn’t respond to him YESTERDAY#and like it’s not that big of a deal we’d only just matched but like?? patience is a fucking virtue?? and i have a life?#he was all like come back :((( then two minutes later he was like ok sorry for bothering you bye and then LEFT#like. fine if you do that but the message?? what??#anyway it came at a bad time bc. a bitch is already in crisis rn#cause i kinda feel like my irl friends hate me for some reason and i already feel bad that i’ve been so busy i’ve not been able to#talk to them that much#and i was supposed to go on a trip with my friend but that’s been postponed (not her fault or mine)#and my car still won’t start. we tried to jump it today and it didn’t do anything#anyway i’m like rapid cycling through major emotions and it’s like mimi chill the fuck out#and listening to way too much phoebe bridgers i know the end#also i’m in crisis bc i’ve made up with like. my oldest friend who used to have a crush on me and when i told him i preferred girls he like#stopped talking to me for a while#that was years ago and now we’re slowly becoming friends again but i feel so much guilt over it for no reason#and i get into avoidant episodes as a coping mechanism and like. i feel like im going into one atp#okay okay vent over im okay lmaoo#sorry folks hope your days going better than mine <3#｡･:*˚:✧｡ mimi speaks!
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who up praying for downfalls 🤨
#mine#yandere#yancore#yandere vent#oh my god have i got some things to say. ooohhuuoouugh buddy#its not even my own situation this isnt even related to me. but im being a nice upstanding young man and venting abt it instead of invoking#the curse of ra. wishing someone dies is such a good coping mechanism fr because instead of thinking about it forever i can move on with#my life. and its great! but oouuuh theres something wrong with that huh. and oh my god. this issue is so fucked but i cant explain it in#a heartfelt and meaningful way. so imagine someone is religiously devoted to a guy and their mental anguish stems from jealousy or fear#of abandonment. and they are internally tormented about that forever. and just because they dont fit your definition of whats right#youre all like Hey you know that guy that means everything to them. how about we take him for ourselves solely bc this person#this suffering person whose life depends on him- who acts like that BECAUSE they are suffering- you think they deserved to be punished for#their traumas? their guilt and pain and anguish? you are no better than whatever you think they are.#i dont think this even makes sense cause im vague on purpose. this sounds like a situation from the bible i think#idk i didnt read it. anyways im skipping and frolicking in my cradle of hatred that fills me with warmth and delight#its not required that people are nice or respectful when their lives have been wretched thanks to people like YOU#but i hope their devotion never wavers due to people who hate their happiness. its not like those people matter anyway#if youre meant to be with your Guy and you love him enough then nothing else matters at that point. its all a test#die a martyr for your own romantic ideologies or whatever satou matsuzaka said#this is literally the equivalent of like. a mother cat adopts a kitten that isnt hers bc her own kin are all dead. she protects this kitten#with her entire life. and her whole being. and hisses growls bites at anyone that comes close to it. and some human teens are like#we should take that kitten solely because the mother cat loves it so much that shes willing to get violent for it.#because its not very niceys of her to harass those who want to take away the only thing she has left! oh noes!!#like shut the fuck up dawg. if that cat mauls someone for getting too close to her baby then mind your own goddamn business#clearly they did not grow up italian 💀#clearly they did not grow up with nothing being their own. nothing being sacred. no desire to protect anything#anyways yanderes i love you. you are fr so easy to be around and you should never change for anyone. i mean maybe take some therapist#advice here and there in case your devotion makes you suffer but OTHERWISE!!! dont feel bad about being a hater!!! protect what is yours#and i will respect it so hard i swear to god. its not that difficult to treat your devotion with the kindness it deserves.#if a disrespectful teen tries to steal your kitten then ill help you beat them to death with a shovel idc
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#narcissistic personality disorder#NPD#narcissistic abuse#PSA#stay safe out here and do NOT allow others to dictate how you feel or bulldoze over your desires#YOU are a person#emotionally immature parents#you deserve a life of comfort & radical acceptance#do not harbor guilt for ways they have made you act out#the best thing to do is accept that you were preserving yourself the only way you knew how#and you are older now#reparent your inner child and heal#you may have done some things you’re not proud of but it could very well be bc you were pushed there and didn’t know how to cope properly#it’s okay. forgive yourself. forgive yourself for how you’ve allowed yourself to be treated too.#recognize your worth#get in touch with your higher self and all your true desires will rise to the surface. you will remember your TRUE identity.#the identity you’ve formed could just be a shell of protection that used to serve you but it no longer does#we can all feel it through the Source#let go & heal#i love you#mine#much of this also applies for those w/ narcissistic traits not just actual NPD fyi#felt this was relevant being in the midst of holidays#family can be draining#remember YOU DONT OWE THEM ANYTHING!!#not a THING. not time energy love anything
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I am such an upfront person when it comes to my needs, I have developed into an incredibly independent person who knows when and how to calm down.
That being said, I do not give a shit how others feels about the skills I’ve learned to cope. It is not my responsibility to bend backwards for you when I am trying to help myself. I cannot be more forward, literally, what else am I supposed to do.
If me saying “hey sorry, I’m having a rough moment at work right now so I probably won’t message you until [my] lunch, talk to you soon,” makes you anxious then that’s a you thing, seriously. Go to therapy or something. I am taking care of my own emotions and reactions right now, I cannot put that aside to reassure you further. I am blunt for a reason, it’s my not fault you assume I am lying, etc. please work on yourself.
#i tried countless things to morph my coping skills in a way that wouldn’t upset my ex#but nothing worked and you know what#that’s not my fault#anxiety sucks ya but I am not to blame#don’t guilt me out of taking time to cool down#i am very aware of how my anger affects the people around me. i purposefully remove myself#I’m not going to give that up just because you’re scared I’m angry with you#i told you I am not. i (vaguely) told you what was wrong. i told you what I was doing#i can’t do more than that#i don’t tip toe around my feelings. there are 8 other motherfuckers keeping track of how many times you’ve lied about yours#don’t project that onto me#especially when I am upfront about being upfront#especially when it’s a skill i honed for years to cope with my anger#or any of my skills for that matter#sorry I’m just *violently shaking a metaphorical pillow*#i don’t have anybody I need to tell this to often. but anytime I get angry or upset I start reciting the text I’d send to him#trying to word it so he wouldn’t assume my personal space was malicious#//#/vent
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Me, every time I feel out of control: haha wanna see how long I can not sleep?
#Ik it’s horrible but I literally don’t have other coping methods#trying to fall asleep is like my brain cells made driving me nuts a competition#so as much as I *LOVE* sleep#getting to sleep is a whole ass battle and when ur parents turn one of your rare decisions to get help into THEIR decision?#the other day my dad forced me to eat and ever since I’ve been forcing down gag reflexes to drink water#it’s not like… a stubbornness thing#I’m not doing this because “well you said I should so not I won’t >:[”#it’s more like my parents refuse to acknowledge I’m an adult but then do specific things to “treat me as an adult”#except it’s stuff like trying to control how I get my driver’s license but they won’t help me fill out a fafsa even though I need their info#and like#my parents are genuinely incredible#I could’ve landed way worse parents#but they CONSTANTLY try to gaslight me and it’s fucking infuriating#like I am CONSTANTLY playing bsf to my mom in the middle of a conversation where she was treating me like I’m five#and then she’ll do things like pay for things that I don’t need and didn’t really want and it’ll be $600#but when I want to make an investment in something I think would be beneficial to my life she’s like “do you think I’m made of money??”#and the thing is $50#that’s not even getting into my “gaslighting and guilt tripping ur child isn’t abuse it’s parenting” father#I truly love them but if they keep this shit up I AM going to loose my shit#whether that means I go no-contact or just check into a mental hospital is undetermined
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⚷ CHIRON SIGN OBSERVATIONS
CHIRON IN ARIES ♈︎
Chiron in Aries is a placement that can indicate a strong need for personal power and control. With this placement, you may have an aggressive or assertive nature as a consequence of past wounds or struggles you have overcome. You may have a tendency to try too hard, or feel extremely emotional and reactive to obstacles or setbacks. You may also have a strong desire to constantly prove yourself and to be in control or to be the best and the strongest. This placement can also indicate a strong desire to protect and stand up for yourself and others.
HOW TO HEAL :
* Finding healthy outlets for your anger and emotions, such as an exercise or a hobby.
* Practicing meditation and mindfulness to help let go of your inner anger and frustration.
* Learning to be kind to yourself and to accept yourself and your past without shame or guilt.
* Practicing empathy and compassion for yourself and others to develop forgiveness and release of the past.
* Working on finding healthy self-expression and being vulnerable to express your feelings and emotions.
CHIRON IN TAURUS ♉︎
Taurus Chiron can indicate an inability to let go or move on from past wounds and pain. With this placement, you may have a deep-seated desire for security and safety, and may also have a tendency to struggle with changes and transitions. You may have a tendency to hold on to the past and feel attached to things that have brought you pain, and find it difficult to let go. This can lead to issues such as anxiety, depression, or fear of change or of new things.
HOW TO HEAL :
* Working on establishing healthy coping mechanisms by identifying your triggers and developing healthier habits.
* Recognizing that you deserve good things and that you have value.
* Working on self-healing techniques by forgiving yourself and others.
* Learning to take care of your own needs and practicing self-love.
* Establishing an understanding and awareness of your triggers and patterns.
* Practicing empathy, compassion, and kindness towards yourself and others.
CHIRON IN GEMINI ♊︎
With Chiron in Gemini, you may have a wound or a trauma that is related to communication or self-expression. You may have difficulty expressing your true thoughts and feelings, or being truly honest and authentic with yourself and others. This can lead to difficulty forming a good and stable sense of identity and can cause issues and tension in your relationships. You may struggle with self-doubt, low self-esteem, and a tendency to overthink.
HOW TO HEAL :
* Finding healthy methods to get your voice heard, including writing, speaking, and expressing yourself.
* Developing healthy coping mechanisms to work through stress, anxiety, or anger.
* Practicing empathy, compassion, and being vulnerable with yourself and others.
* Learning self-expression and communication skills.
* Finding new ways to be in touch with your inner voice.
CHIRON IN CANCER ♋︎
Cancer Chiron can indicate a deep wound or trauma related to home, family, and feelings of safety and security. You may have a tendency to feel overwhelmed or anxious when you feel unsafe or uncertain, and you may have difficulty setting boundaries and trusting others. This can lead to issues such as codependency, attachment difficulties, and a tendency to put the needs of others above your own. It can also cause difficulty with expressing your inner feelings and communicating openly.
HOW TO HEAL :
* Learning healthy ways of expressing your emotions, communicating, and letting go.
* Practicing self-compassion and empathy.
* Being vulnerable and open with yourself and others.
* Practicing meditation or relaxation techniques such as deep breathing or yoga to help lower anxiety and find inner peace.
* Working on establishing healthy boundaries with yourself and others.
* Learning healthy ways to set and enforce boundaries, as well as practicing self-care and self-acceptance.
CHIRON IN LEO ♌︎
With Chiron in Leo, you may have a deep wound or trauma related to self-image, confidence, and self-worth. You may have underlying feelings of being inferior or inadequate, and you may struggle with self-care and self-acceptance. You may have difficulty expressing or embracing your inner creativity, strength, and confidence. This can lead to issues such as insecurity, self-doubt, and a tendency to seek external validation and approval.
HOW TO HEAL :
* Let go of the need to be in control and the need for praise.
* Developing empathy and compassion and building healthy relationships with others.
* Learning self-acceptance and self-love to foster confidence and inner peace.
* Practicing healthy self-expression and taking time to process your emotions.
* Practicing mindfulness to let go of the past and to be present in the moment.
* Practicing self-compassion and treating yourself with kindness.
CHIRON IN VIRGO ♍︎
With a Chiron in Virgo, you may have a deep wound or trauma related to service to others, health, or self-care. You may have an underlying feeling of worthlessness or that you are not good enough, and you may find it difficult to care for yourself or set healthy boundaries. You may also have a tendency to find fault or be overly critical, leading to issues such as anxiety, perfectionism, and a tendency to over-stress and overly-analyze things.
HOW TO HEAL :
* Practicing self-love and self-care.
* Establishing healthy boundaries and learning to say "NO".
* Learning not to feel so responsible for everyone else.
* Practicing relaxation and mindfulness techniques.
* Cultivating self-compassion and self-acceptance.
* Practicing empathy and compassion towards yourself.
* Developing self-value and self-worth.
* Letting go of the past and your wounds and focusing on healing and growth.
CHIRON IN LIBRA ♎︎
With Chiron in Libra, you may have a deep wound or trauma related to the balance between your needs and the needs of others. You may have difficulty setting boundaries and may tend to be very accommodating and self-sacrificing. You may have a strong sense of justice and fairness, which can lead to issues such as codependency and people-pleasing. You may have difficulty expressing your own needs and taking care of yourself. You may also experience a lot of inner conflict between what you need and what you want, and this can potentially lead to issues such as dissatisfaction and frustration.
HOW TO HEAL :
* Being more assertive and expressing your needs and boundaries.
* Practicing self-compassion and self-support.
* Learning to understand how you feel without being influenced by others.
* Developing self-value so that you don't depend on others for your self-worth.
* Doing things that make you happy and allow you to express yourself.
* Creating healthy and supportive relationships with others.
* Practicing empathy and compassion towards yourself and others.
CHIRON IN SCORPIO ♏︎
With Chiron in Scorpio, you may have a deep wound related to trust, intimacy, or betrayal. You may feel a deep fear of abandonment or rejection, which can lead to a deep resistance to opening up and allowing yourself to be vulnerable. You may also have a deep fear of being hurt and betrayed. This can cause issues such as mistrust, jealousy, possessiveness, and difficulty letting go. Healing a Chiron in Scorpio can involve learning to develop healthy trust and to let go of the past.
HOW TO HEAL :
* Learning to open up and be vulnerable with yourself and others.
* Practicing trust-building and allowing yourself to accept love and support.
* Learning to let go of the past and accepting your own faults and flaws.
* Practicing healthy communication and conflict resolution.
* Working on developing empathy and understanding towards yourself and others.
* Cultivating compassion and self-compassion.
* Finding healthy ways to express your emotions.
CHIRON IN SAGITTARIUS ♐︎
With a Chiron in Sagittarius, you may have a deep wound or trauma related to self-beliefs or a deep need to seek wisdom and knowledge above all else. You may have a feeling of not fitting in or finding your place in the world. You may have a tendency to doubt or second-guess yourself and may also have a lack of direction. This can lead to issues such as feeling like an outsider, having difficulty believing in yourself, or feeling lost in life. Healing a Chiron in Sagittarius can involve working on developing a sense of purpose and self-identity.
HOW TO HEAL :
* Developing a strong sense of identity and purpose.
* Establishing healthy boundaries with yourself and others.
* Being courageous and ambitious with setting goals or taking risks.
* Practicing self-compassion and self-care.
* Building a healthy self-esteem and self-image.
* Working through any childhood trauma that may be holding you back.
* Developing a strong sense of self-identity and self-worth.
* Learning to feel comfortable being alone and not always feeling a need to be with others or seek out external validation.
CHIRON IN CAPRICORN ♑︎
With a Chiron in Capricorn, you may have a deep wound or trauma related to your sense of responsibility and duty. You may have a tendency to sacrifice your well-being and needs for others, and you may have a deep need to be seen as competent and reliable. This can lead to issues such as burnout, a lack of work-life balance, and a tendency to blame yourself or take on too much responsibility for others. Healing a Chiron in Capricorn can involve learning to set boundaries and to let go of your need to take things personally and to try to fix everything.
HOW TO HEAL :
* Finding healthy ways to express your emotions and to express yourself.
* Practicing self-care and self-compassion.
* Developing empathy and understanding for yourself and others.
* Finding a healthy balance in your work and personal life.
* Practicing mindfulness and letting go of the past.
* Cultivating trust in yourself and others.
* Developing a healthy inner self-talk and working on positive thinking.
CHIRON IN AQUARIUS ♒︎
With a Chiron in Aquarius, you may have a deep wound or trauma related to feeling misunderstood or rejected. You may have issues with forming attachments or feeling like you don't really belong anywhere. You may also have a deep fear of being seen or recognized in public, which can lead to social anxiety or a tendency to isolate. Healing a Chiron in Aquarius can involve working on accepting your quirks and differences, and realizing that you don’t need to be accepted or liked by everyone.
HOW TO HEAL :
* Practicing self-acceptance and self-love.
* Learning to accept your uniqueness and differences.
* Finding healthy social groups or communities that make you feel welcome and accepted.
* Practicing healthy communication and interpersonal skills.
* Cultivating healthy relationships with those who make you feel understood.
* Finding healthy outlets for expressing your emotions.
* Practicing boundaries and learning to speak up for yourself.
CHIRON IN PISCES ♓︎
With a Chiron in Pisces, you may have a deep wound or trauma related to your empathy and compassion. You may have a deep empathy and sensitivity towards the suffering of others, which can lead to issues such as codependency, taking on other people's problems or feelings, feeling other people's pain very vividly, and carrying too much of the load alone. Healing a Chiron in Pisces can involve setting healthy boundaries and learning to separate what is yours and yours alone. It can involve not taking on more than you can handle, and instead learning to focus more on yourself and your own needs.
HOW TO HEAL :
* Practicing healthy self-care and self-love.
* Develop self-awareness and emotional intelligence.
* Practicing healthy boundaries with yourself and with others.
* Learning to say no to others and to let go of your codependency.
* Becoming more secure within yourself and within who you are.
* Developing a sense of self-responsibility and self-reliance.
* Finding healthy ways to express your emotions and express your inner creativity.
#astrology#zodiac#astrology observations#zodiac signs#chiron#chiron sign#aries chiron#taurus chiron#gemini chiron#cancer chiron#leo chiron#virgo chiron#libra chiron#scorpio chiron#sagittarius chiron#capricorn chiron#aquarius chiron#pisces chiron
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Sweet agony
After a tragic event, you believed you were unworthy of love. Spencer decided to prove you wrong.
warnings: (MINORS DNI!) fem reader, angst, explicit smut including fingering, unprotected sex
word count: around 3k
a/n: I did a poll the other day about writing angst with a sad or happy ending, most of you wanted a happy one. This is also written for @imagining-in-the-margins New Beginnings writing challenge.
"WHY CAN’T I LOVE YOU?"
The room held its breath as you met his gaze. You observed the glaze in his eyes, the tension in his muscles, and the subtle bobbing of his Adam's apple. The weight of unspoken truth hung heavy in the air, but instead of facing the question, you were surrendering to a different impulse.
Guilt and desire intertwined as you pushed him onto the mattress, letting the chaos in your mind take over. His body yielded to the unexpected force, and for a fleeting moment, you drowned out the unanswered question that lingered like a ghost.
Stress relief. Distraction. No strings attached.
That was what you agreed upon the first time you called him into your hotel room. What went on inside your head that night was a blur. But what stuck with you was the pain—not physical, but a lingering ache that your body still remembered from the way it bled tragically.
Working in law enforcement always came with risks, but being held captive and almost losing your life wasn't something you expected. The memories of the Unsub's touch on your skin, the scar he left behind, continued to churn bile in your throat even months after the tragedy. The repulsive was so strong you needed something else to distract you.
You needed someone else to distract you.
"Don't be gentle," was what you told him after you kissed him for the first time. The shock in his eyes was unmistakable—perhaps it was the rush of you making the move, or maybe it was the unspoken weight in your voice. Questions lingered in his gaze, a curiosity that always surfaced, but you knew how to silence him every time he opened his mouth.
Kiss his neck. Touch his skin. Grind your hips. Tell him how much you want to be ruined.
He hesitated initially, uncertainty clouding his expression, but eventually, he gave in because saying no to you seemed impossible. Despite convincing yourself that he was satisfied with this purely physical arrangement, you couldn't escape the undeniable truth. The hurtful look on his face lingered vividly in your mind after your first night together.
He had reached for you, and you backed away, flinching from his touch. It seemed cruel to deny him in one aspect while satisfying him in another, yet you craved the pain. And despite knowing that using sex as a coping mechanism wasn't the healthiest choice, or how denying his affection hurt him, he still came whenever you called.
He obliged to your needs without fail. He was at your mercy, caught in the complicated web of desire and restraint.
However, tonight was different. You told him to slip into your hotel room around midnight, the usual time you agreed to avoid any prying eyes. He came, as he always did, but there was something distinct in his posture. His eyes carried a deep pain, and when he spoke, you realized you could no longer avoid the inevitable.
"I can't keep doing this," he admitted, his voice breaking when you pulled him towards the bed.
Guilt swept through you but you couldn't stop yourself from throwing your arms around his neck. Instead of offering an explanation, you remained silent, your lips inches away from his.
"Why won't you let me in?"
He looked at you, eyes filled with a mix of longing and confusion, and the next question escaped his lips like a plea.
"Why can't I love you?"
His body yielded to the unexpected force as you pushed him onto the bed, crawling on top of him. The weight of the moment pressed upon your heart, a heavy ache that mirrored the confusion etched on his face. His eyes, wide and stained with tears, bore into yours. You couldn't escape the reflection of your own glistening eyes, tears threatening to betray the emotions you tried to suppress.
Shaking away the tears, you pressed your body against him and shut your eyes until you felt his soft lips against yours. The softest lips, with the most careful movements, had you moaning into the kiss. The softest lips that had you gripping his shirt in desperation. Those soft, soft lips melded seamlessly with your own, creating a sensation that electrified every nerve in your body.
You had never questioned your state of mind, but this feeling right now, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, was too much to handle. It was confusing and consuming your mind how agony could taste so terribly sweet.
As if sensing your internal struggle, he gently eased your body onto the bed next to him, taking it upon himself to undress you. You quietly watched as he slipped you off your clothes, noticing the way his breath quickened when you were completely bare before him, exposed, vulnerable. His eyes swept along your naked body as he settled back beside you.
The moment you felt his fingers brush your inner thigh, your senses went haywire. Every time he touched you, your body came alive with a burning hot desire. Every time his fingers brushed your skin, electricity surged through each limb.
A gasp fell out your lips when his fingers slipped down your slit and ever so slightly you rolled your hips, begging for more without words. He wasted no time, giving you exactly what you needed as his fingers moved up and down your folds, working you up further.
His fingers finally found your clit and you gripped the bedsheets, feeling his touch ease over your delicate areas with care. He started slowly, massaging small circles into your wet flesh and you gave in the pleasure, warmth bursting throughout your body without warning. Your head fell back, thighs clasping around his hand, and you rolled your hips—whimpering, moaning, so breathless all at once.
He then buried his face in your neck and you felt his warm breath against your skin. His lips trailed down to your shoulder, soft and slow, and when his stubbled cheek brushed against your pebbled nipple, you let out another moan. He tipped his head up, swiping his tongue against it before giving it a slick suck.
You couldn't help but bury your hand in his hair at the sensation. He grunted his approval, opening his mouth just a touch wider and drawing your breast into his mouth. He leaned back with a suck, gaze heavy on yours as his tongue swiped across your nipple at the same time two of his fingers slid into your wet cunt.
Your eyes rolled at the back of your head as your legs fell apart even further. This was why you seek him. He could make you forget everything. In his arms, you could forget the weight of your worries, the complexities of your emotions, and the tangled web of desires and regrets that plagued your mind.
You were sure he felt the same way too. Despite the weight of his previous questions, they seemed to fade into the background, his focus shifted entirely to showering you with pleasure. His fingers began to work faster, drawing out every filthy sound from your body. It didn't take long until you couldn't hold back any longer.
His fingers began working in and out of your tightening walls once again just as his tongue flicked over your nipple. Your eyes screw shut until you were seeing white dots behind your lids while he continued to thrusts his fingers inside you. You were uncontrollably shaking as you took one final, deep breath before the pleasure consumed your entire body.
His name hovered on the tip of your tongue. Calling him Spencer felt too intimate, but calling him Reid felt distant, like a stranger's name upon your lips. In the end, you opted for neither, allowing your pleasure to be voiced through the raw intensity of your moan.
His response was immediate. He pulled his fingers away from your drenched heat but continued to work against your clit. The intensity of the moment consumed you, leaving you breathless as he gave you exactly what you wanted, testing your limits until you could hardly take it anymore and pushed his hand away.
When he finally pulled away from your body, a wave of dizziness washed over you, leaving you reeling in the aftermath of your orgasm. His lips lingered on your breast one last time before he slowly sat up. He started to peel off his clothes, piece by piece, each motion deliberate and unhurried. Your eyes flickered at the way his muscles tensed and flexed with each movement.
His physique wasn't exactly muscular, but the hard outlines of his body still captivated you. Your eyes drank in the sight of him, lingering on the way his chest rose and fell with the quickening pace of his breath, before trailing down the soft expanse of his stomach, tracing the tantalizing trail of hair that led further south.
It was right at this moment you would've pushed him onto his back like you always did, reveling in the thrill of being the one in control. Or sometimes you preferred him taking you from behind so he could pull your hair as he fucked you senselessly.
But tonight you were so captivated by him that when he slipped himself between your thighs, you didn't resist. Instead, you welcomed his proximity, the heat of his body melding seamlessly with your own. You also didn't protest when he pushed his cock inside of your heat, stretching you out, because the sensation had you whimpering and you found yourself holding onto his shoulders.
His motions were slow and gentle. He was careful as if he was still scared of doing something wrong even though this wasn’t your first time with him, but he took his time to enjoy the feeling of your walls clenching around him. And suddenly you wanted to submit to him, you gave in to him completely, letting him take over you entirely as he rocked his hips into you over and over.
He then grabbed onto one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder. You gasped as he pushed deeper in this position. He pulled away as he focused on the way his cock slid out of your wet cunt, leaving just the tip around your swollen lips, before thrusting into you again. He exhaled the heaviest breath when you clenched around him so tight that he couldn't help but dig his nails into the soft flesh of your thigh.
Heat flooded every inch of you each time he thrust into you, the tension coiled tighter as you tossed your head back. His eyes trailed between your connected bodies, watching the way his length moved inside you effortlessly with the way your arousal coated him.
"Y-You're so wet," he couldn't help but groan, and you could hear the slick noise as he thrust his cock into your dripping walls over and over again. "God, you feel so good."
His words had you sitting up as you prompted your weight on your elbows, your eyes falling onto the way his cock disappeared inside you. You whimpered when he snapped his hips harshly, burying himself deeper and deeper from each of his thrusts before he picked up his pace. Surges of warmth began to course through you and you couldn't suppress your desperate moans.
And when you could barely stand the pleasure any more, he suddenly pulled your leg off his shoulder before wrapping it around his waist. His other hand found its way to the back of your head, holding you in place while he ruthlessly thrust in and out of you. Your mouth fell open as you were taken aback by his sudden pace, your eyes instinctively glancing over to meet his gaze.
His face hovered close to yours, the beads of sweat glistening against his skin. A furrow creased his brow, and despite the intensity of his movements, there was a raw vulnerability in those warm brown eyes that held you captive, drawing you in with their depth and intensity.
The pleasure and sensation washed over you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf your senses as his gaze bore into yours. The more he looked at you, the more overwhelming the sensations became, until finally, in a moment of pure ecstasy, his name slipped past your lips for the first time.
"Spencer," you breathed, the sound barely more than a whisper, but he heard you clearly.
His gaze softened as he listened to you. He listened to your body, the way you tightened around his length, the way you moaned and huffed each time he thrust at the right spot. And because your gaze held an intensity he had never seen before, he couldn't help but utter the three words he had been keeping to himself all along.
"I love you," he whispered, the words escaping his lips in a breathless rush.
Warmth spread in your chest and you finally snapped. Your back arched off the bed, nails digging into his arm, and your legs wrapped tight around his waist, taking every long, deep thrust of his cock until a final gasp spilled from your lips.
As the pleasure bubbled and erupted between your legs, surging throughout your entire, trembling body, he quickly began thrusting himself wildly into you. With his fingers gripping the back of your neck, he held you close to him, resting his forehead on yours as he fucked you through the explosion of bliss.
The warmth swelled to reach every limb before your body was coming down from the high, so beyond sensitive you couldn't even form words. He continued to thrust himself into your dripping, spasming walls with wild force before he finally lost control. He huffed out a groan, his brow creasing and his eyes screwing shut. He rocked into your body so deep for the last time, surrounded by your warmth squeezing him as he finally released inside of you.
He gently loosened his grip on you, allowing your body to fall against the bed seconds before he lowered himself beside you. Normally you would tell him to leave and he would quietly slip back into his clothes. But tonight was different.
Now, you both lay on the bed, side by side, watching each other in the dim light of the room. You could sense his desire to reach out and pull you close, but he held himself back, respecting the boundaries you had set. Yet, despite the distance, you could still feel the heat radiating from his body.
There was so much affection in his eyes, it would normally scare you, suffocate you even, but somehow you felt drawn to him. It was as if the barriers you had carefully constructed around your heart were slowly crumbling away, and you found yourself reaching out.
Your fingers traced his jaw, the rough stubble grazing your skin. His breath hitched for a moment as he watched you with a mixture of wonder and longing. Despite the hesitance in your touch, he welcomed your caress, allowing you to explore the contours of his face.
As your eyes met him, you saw a reflection of your own emotions mirrored back at you, and a wave of vulnerability washed over you. The tears welled up in your eyes, glistening with unspoken words and unshed emotions.
"I don't deserve you," you whispered, the words hanging in the air.
Spencer moved on instinct. He reached out to gently wipe away the tears that glistened in your eyes, his touch a soothing tenderness that stirred something deep within you.
"You deserve so much more than you give yourself credit for," he murmured, his voice gentle yet firm. "You deserve everything."
How was he so perfect? How was he able to see the goodness in you when all you could see were your flaws and shortcomings?
As you looked into his eyes, filled with unwavering love and acceptance, you couldn't help but wonder why he continued to stand by your side despite everything. Why was he still here, offering his unwavering support and affection, even when you pushed him away and blamed yourself for the scars that marred your soul?
"Why..." The question lingered on the tip of your tongue, begging to be voiced aloud, but you hesitated, the weight of the words too heavy to bear. "Why do you care about me?"
This time, he closed the distance between you, his arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace and you found yourself leaning into him. "I care about you because you matter to me," he replied. "Because you're worth caring about."
Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you struggled to contain the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you.
"You deserve all the love in the world, you’re the most deserving person I know," he continued, murmuring against your hair. "I know you’re scared, but you’re not alone in this. You don’t have to be alone.”
A choked sob finally escaped you, the weight of his words hitting you with a force you couldn't grasp. You pushed yourself closer to him, seeking solace in the safety of his arms, letting him pull you even closer as his own voice trembled with raw emotion.
"So let me love you," he whispered, the words a plea and a promise rolled into one. “Please.”
Tears streamed down your cheeks as you finally allowed yourself to release the pent-up emotions that had been building inside you for so long. You cried for the lost time. You cried for him, for the way you had hurt his heart every time he showered you with affection he offered so freely and yet you had struggled to accept.
But most importantly, you cried for yourself, too—for the person you had been before the pain, for the scars that still lingered beneath the surface, and for the glimmer of hope that still burned within you despite everything you had been through.
With a silent nod against his chest, you finally surrendered as you allowed yourself to believe, if only for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, you were worthy of love after all.
.
The prompts I used are along the line of Character learns to navigate their everyday life after a traumatic event, and “You aren't alone in this. None of us are.” They’re kind of altered in this story but I think they have the same depth :)
#gifwriting#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#mentioningmargins
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youtube
... y'all know Lae'zel is acting scared, right?
Video transcription:
I've seen a lot of comments on my short about Lae'zel dismissing her entire character because she's mean and… I'm just checking in here… you guys know she's scared, right? She's terrified.
She was kidnapped by the worst monster she knows, infected with the most horrifying death anyone in her culture can have, and then stranded on a hostile world, alone, with nothing to guide her except the dogmatic military cult indoctrination of a cruel lich demigod, telling her that her only hope of salvation is to follow Gith doctrine with total unyielding faith.
And still she tries to save you. When she keeps insisting that you must get to the Githyanki crèche, it's our only hope, she's trying to guide you towards the only salvation she knows from the parasite, so she can share it with you. And Gith... aren't supposed to do that, saving an outsider is not part of the doctrine, she's breaking the rules trying to do right by you.
None of that means she's not being an asshole, she's rude, dogmatic and unpleasant. But everything she does comes from a genuine, very misguided and abrasive, desire to do the right thing. It doesn't make her behaviour okay, but there is more to her character than just "being the mean one."
To expand on this a bit more than I can in a 60 second short, people acting from fear and from their damage is a major theme among the Baldur's Gate 3 companions.
Lae'zel is terrified and falling back on the only thing she believes will give her back some control over her situation, which is the dogma of the military cult she's in. Shadowheart is much the same, amnesiac and grasping on to the only solid thing she knows, which is her faith, which preaches deception, loss and duplicity as the only certain factors in life.
Gale is an inveterate people-pleaser desperately dependent on other people to help him feed his magic addiction, with his overtly affable exterior hiding a rolling boulder of guilt, ambition, greed, arrogance and legitimate hurt. Asterion is... well, no way to really lay out his deal without spoiling, but the boy has been through it and his self-destructive, hedonistic and selfish impulses are all coping mechanism and self-defense all the time.
None of that make their shitty behaviours okay, but in a fictional story, those kinds of flaws and toxic behaviours are what make for interesting stories and characters. I don't blame anyone for finding Lae'zel unpleasant and abrasive, but I do get a bit Old Man Yells At Cloud about people who casually brag about shoving her off a cliff-side, or murdering her because "she was a bitch" or whatever.
Like... being unable to face discomfort in your media is not a virtue, and lashing out reactively against fiction that doesn't validate your power fantasy isn't a flex.
Of course, I saw a lot of those reactions in YouTube comments and on social media, so my sample is biased by those algorithms, but still. A lot of people seem aggressively proud that they never engaged with her story because the terrified indoctrinated child-soldier wasn't immediately nice to them and I can't explain it but something about that reaction feels puritan to me.
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“life without you.”
summary; months after breaking up with them, they come for reconciliation.
warnings; heartbreak, break-ups
note; wowowow the first part to this blew up and i am so beyond thankful for all the love! after this comes more requests :D
!! divider by @cafekitsune !!
first part | angst ending
“we should probably see other people.”
༊*·˚. xavier
it had been a couple of months since you broke things off with xavier and the way his face had contorted into one of subtle shock made you feel, well, better about things. although it had pained you to say the words, knowing that he was instantly hit with something — be it guilt, regret, sadness, whatever — made you feel better knowing it meant he still cared enough about you.
though the months of silence that followed had you second guessing that notion, no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself it was normal for this to happen and that you should take advantage of this time. you would never admit to anyone the many nights you would spend on your couch, waiting around late at night hoping that knock would come on your door and your sleepy hunter would be on the other side.
perhaps you ended up manifesting it one too many times, however, because now you stand pj-clad in your doorway with one hand on your hip and a raised brow as xavier held out a round, marshmallow-looking stuffed bunny to you.
“what’s this?” you deadpanned, knowing exactly what he was doing — you just wanted to hear him say it.
xavier’s lips pressed into a tight line as he avoided your eyes and muttered, “i really screwed up. i didn’t realize how good things were with you until i lost you.”
you stayed silent, motioning for him to continue when he glanced your way.
“i don’t deserve to ask you for forgiveness, let alone should i expect you to take me back,” he said, holding your gaze, “but i’d be even more of a fool not to try. i’m so, so sorry i put you in such a shitty situation.”
xavier pushed the bunny a little closer to you, brightening a bit as you took it into your arms. it was soft and downright adorable, a stuffed reflection of the man in front of you(though, again, something else on the list of things that wouldn’t be admitted by you).
“i don’t expect you to answer me any time soon,” he added quickly, filling the silence, “so i’ll just —“
“xavier.”
the blonde immediately shut his mouth, giving you his rapt attention. with a sigh you look from the bunny to him before extending a hand to him, albeit hesitantly.
“i was in the middle of watching a movie,” you said, earning a confused look. “do you want to finish it with me?”
if your heart wasn’t racing by that point, the way xavier’s face broke out in a grin before he grabbed your hand excitedly and pulled you into your own apartment had it pounding against your rib cage like a drum.
༊*·˚. rafayel
you recieved a torrent of snarky, snappy texts following your brief break-up with rafayel. he switched between gaslighting you that nothing was happening and that you were overreacting to him acting nonchalant about the whole thing; it was so bad that you had to block his number before you even got back to your apartment, which was a few blocks away.
it was weird to not have your phone blowing up all day long but, at the same time, the silence was a sort of reprieve while you dealt with the emotional repercussions of the whole situation. it allowed you some peace of mind and gave you the space needed to cope and, with the months that followed, grow more comfortable with not being in a relationship anymore.
you had finally found yourself at peace once again, keeping yourself busy with things to do like trying out the new restaurant downtown. as you were getting ready to head out, a knock came from your front door.
“just a minute!” you called, adjusting the collar of your blouse in the mirror before heading to the door and opening it. “oh.”
standing in front of you was rafayel and thomas, the latter giving you a sweet smile and a wave.
“nice to see you!” he chirped before giving rafayel a shove on the shoulder and gesturing to you. “i’ll be in the car.”
“good seeing you, too, thomas,” you called as he walked off, then turned to rafayel. “so. it took your manager forcing you for you to come see me?”
rafayel pouted at you and crossed his arms over his chest. “last i checked, you’re the one who blocked my number.”
you barked out a laugh, unsure as to why you’d be surprised about the audacity of this man. “well, maybe it’s because you tried to downplay my feelings!”
“well i’m sorry, okay?” rafayel retorted, matching your raised volume. “there, happy?”
“happy?” you echoed, running a hand down your face. “rafayel, if you really think —”
“you’re right.”
you froze, biting back the rest of your statement and raising a brow. “i’m right?”
rafayel nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “i fucked up. like truly, undoubtedly fucked up. and here i am, thinking i can just say sorry and fix it all but that’s not how it works. i’ve got this whole front to keep up to protect my stupid ego but. . .” he sniffles and you realize there are tears in his eyes but he continues before you can speak up.
“fuck my ego,” he spat, clearly more angry at himself with every word he spoke. “my life has been complete and utter shit without you in it. i thought i knew what i was doing but i was wrong and i can’t even begin to express how sorry i am. i don’t deserve forgiveness or anything from you but gods you deserved an apology and i hope this is at least somewhat sufficient.”
rafayel sniffled again, the tip of his nose reddening as he wiped at his eyes. you were shocked to say the least, rooted to the spot as you watched the man you always thought to be so invulnerable breaking down in front of you.
slowly you reached out and your hands pulled his away from his face. he looked at you with wide, teary eyes as your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing the few remaining tears away. he whispered your name and you sighed, feeling all the hardened feelings towards the artist and your breakup softening to mush.
“i’ve missed you,” he whispered, leaning into your touch, and everything gets thrown out the window as you press a quick kiss to his forehead, then his cheeks, then the corner of his lips.
“i missed you too,” you said quietly. “come inside — i’ll tell thomas that i’ll drive you home later.”
༊*·˚. zayne
his coldness towards you was to be expected but still stung more than you could’ve expected. what made the break-up even worse was that you had to do it at the hospital and she was present for it all. you had tripped over your words and felt like a fool but knew, deep down, it needed to be done to prevent you from spending another sleepless night.
you had accounted for the way you’d feel when you’d find his clothes in your laundry; you’d accounted for the way your heart would surge whenever the rare occurrence came that you’d see him out and about in linkon city; everything was thought out and prepared for to avoid feeling too harshly.
what you had failed to account for, however, was how you’d feel when you came home one day to find zayne sitting on your couch with at least ten different bouquets of flowers surrounding him.
first it was shock — you quite literally dropped all your belongings. zayne raised an eyebrow at your reaction as if it wasn’t incredibly surprising to see him sitting in your apartment after having months of no contact.
second it was realization — you hadn’t taken your spare key back. as soon as it hit you your shock wore off and you groaned, running a hand down your face. after a long day at work this was the last thing you were expecting and needed.
last came the indifference. you gestured to him, then to the door. zayne stood slowly and walked around the bouquets, heading for the door. you were surprised up until he shut the door and headed back to his original spot on the couch.
“zayne,” you deadpanned. “that was a sign for you to leave.”
“do you really want me to leave?” the doctor asked, his steely gaze sending shivers down your spine.
no. “why are you even here?” you asked, defeated, purposely avoiding the question. “months of not talking and you suddenly appear in my apartment? what gives?”
“i need to apologize,” zayne replied bluntly, gesturing to the plethora of flowers surrounding him. “did the flowers not make that obvious? are they not enough? should i have gotten more?”
he looked somewhat distraught as he looked around him and you shook your head with a sigh to cover up the way the corners of your mouth twitched. you’d hardly seen zayne so stressed let alone stressed over flowers and if they were enough for you.
“zayne, the flowers are lovely,” you assured him. “more than i know what to do with, though.”
zayne nodded slowly, a bit more at ease. he stood once more and walked over to you, stopping right in front of you. he took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye, though you noted the way his eyes flitted down to your lips for a split second.
“what i did, how i treated you, all of it was unacceptable,” he said softly and you couldn’t help but already feel him worming his way through your walls. “i don’t know what i was thinking — or if i was even thinking at all. you are the most caring, respectful, and loving partner anyone could ever ask for. i was so lucky to have you by my side and i foolishly messed everything up.”
you wanted to reach out and wrap your arms around him, truly, but he still looked as if he had more to say so you held yourself back for a moment longer.
“you are everything to me,” he said, “and i will do whatever i need to do to regain your trust, your love, everything. however long it takes — days, months, years, nothing else matters to me more than you.”
you were in awe of the man standing before you, so moved by his words and actions that you couldn’t help but wind your arms around him and pull him close to you. you could feel him relax in your embrace, something that nobody else could do no matter what. with your cheek pressed to his chest, you smiled to yourself as you felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head and his arms wrap tightly around you.
“since i went a little overboard with the flowers,” he mumbled, “do you think we should take them down to the hospital and give them out to the patients?”
there he was. your zayne. sweet, compassionate, loving zayne.
taglist; @chim-i @reialbert @circusclownsam @yegrnn @kreishin @xmikanx @frobin4ever @keitthen <3 & all the anons that requested this!
#love and deepspace#rafayel#lads rafayel#rafayel x reader#lads xavier#lads zayne#xavier#xavier x reader#zayne x reader#zayne#rafayel love and deepspace#xavier love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace
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Lonely Together ║ ⓞⓝⓔ๏ⓞⓕⓕⓢ
LONELY TOGETHER
| PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!reader
| RATING: explicit material | 18+
| WORD COUNT: 1.8k
| CONTENT: disgusting brainrot from the Jackson era Joel pic being released, unhinged delulu take on him being sad and lonely and fixing it with sex as a coping mechanism, just general filth idk what to tell you, he's got a mouth on him, degradation kink?, use of derogatory terms but in a sexy way, my result of "sad horny" on the what kind of horny are you? quiz making a lot of sense in this fic
| SYNOPSIS: Joel is lonely. You're lonely. You decide to be lonely together.
It had started out naturally. Joel Miller’s house was remarkably quiet these days, some fracture in his relationship with his step-daughter Ellie being the catalyst for her departure, and he walked around most of the time looking like a kicked puppy. You were no better and with much less of a valid reason to be such a sad sack. You shared one thing in common above all else: loneliness. You’d both honed in on it, recognizing it in another person but not really knowing what to do with it for yourself let alone somebody else.
That is, until, the root of the loneliness made itself clear. You were desperate to be wanted, and Joel was desperate to be needed. A symbiotic give and take that restored some sense of equilibrium to the world when you gave into the urges and gave into each other.
And maybe you wouldn’t normally be so whiny and so pathetic. Maybe Joel wouldn’t normally speak so harshly and demanding. But you drew it out of each other, a safe place to be the worst versions of yourselves and chase what the mind and body needed to make things feel better if just for a little while.
There was no shame in how you meshed together. No second thoughts or chastisement for any notion of your ego being left completely checked and abandoned at the door or his flying off at the mouth with some manic call to ownership. It’s part of what made this dynamic work so well.
You refused to let yourself feel guilt or embarrassment over how he made you feel and act, and he didn’t kick himself for this rough, insistent version of himself that you brought out. It’s what led to a nearly constant need for each other, saying and being things that never left the walls of his home where you normally met up and often stayed the night.
“I know you’re not muffling those pretty little sounds,” he grunts and jerks your head up from where it’d been buried in the pillows as he slammed into you from behind. “Those are my sounds. They belong to me, and I wanna hear ‘em.”
You choke out some pathetic moan and let him puppet your head with his hand clutched around a fistful of your hair. The impact of his drives intensifies as he seeks out more of his sounds. Between the air being punched from your lungs and the mouth of your cervix being punched by his cockhead, you aren’t entirely sure what sounds you’re making, let alone if they’re enough to feed his demand for them.
“Yeah, there you go,” he husks and grips his free hand around the crease of your thigh to pull you closer to him.
There were times when he was particularly possessive and desperate, and your body subconsciously pulled away from the intensity of his focus, only to have him drag you back even closer to his whims. You always let him. He never gave you more than you could take, and, when he did, it always ended up being just a touch further than what you understood you could manage. He was always forcing you to learn about yourself like that. You resented and pursued it all the same.
“You know better than to make me chase this sweet little cunt,” he snaps.
You mewl out some kind of apology, but you both know this is just another part of the dynamic that feeds you both.
He pushes your shoulders down into the mattress, head sideways so he can still hear what he does to you, and jerks your hips back. You’re practically limp as a ragdoll, having gone at this now for the better half of an hour, growing exhausted from being taken to the edge so many times just to have him draw back at the last minute.
He pounds into you, and the wet smack of your smeared arousal sounds with each snap of his hip against you. Your slick is everywhere – your pussy drooling and begging and crying for release – a sort of debauched canvas he’s made out of you in all the ways he’s bent you and folded you and angled you for his liking. He locks your wrists behind the small of your back and uses the leverage to somehow pound impossibly harder.
You feel like you’re about to push through the mattress in a few thrusts if he keeps up this pace, a mind boggling stamina for someone in his 50s. It felt like at times his need to be needed outweighed your need to feel wanted, but you would never complain about the frenzied fervor it invoked in him.
Just as you’ve accepted your fate of being plowed through the mattress, he’s yanking you flush against his chest and driving you down onto his cock. Your hands fly for an anchoring point, and Joel obliges by wrapping an arm under yours and crossing it against your chest and neck until he’s cradling your throat in his palm. Your hands claw onto his forearm like a port in a storm, and you hold on for dear life.
He grips your throat, just enough for you to respond how he wants: a tiny shiver and a throaty moan.
“Yeah, that’s right,” he grunts. He’s slamming you down onto his cock now, almost deranged in how he seeks out any and every way to make you come completely undone. “My little fuckhole. Say it.”
“I’m–I’m your little fuckhole,” you choke out around the squeeze of his hand.
“You better mean it, baby. Any hole is mine, ain’t that right?”
As if to prove his point, he slips his thumb into the rim of your ass with ease, all the smeared lubrication of your unfulfilled orgasms making a slippery entrance for him to finger. You gasp and clench around him, around his thumb and his cock, all excitement and nerves and anticipation for where he would take this.
You cry out when he plunges his thumb deeper, maybe a reminder that you hadn’t answered him, and you were expected to always answer him.
“Anything! All of them!” you yelp. The sting of his thumb now steadily pumping in and out of you made you feel all the more dizzy and keen for release.
Apparently pleased with your corroboration, he slips his thumb out and grips onto your hip once more to resume his devastating drives. He presses your head back against his shoulder until your ear is next to his breathy mouth.
“Bet you’d let me wreck you there, too, wouldn’t you? Rip you open on my cock ‘til you were gashed and gaped, huh?” He sounds unhinged and so close to spilling inside you that you can’t help but moan and clench.
He breathes a laugh, all he can manage at this pace, and bites onto your earlobe before letting whatever crazed thought that passes through his pussydrunk brain spill from his lips. “Would wreck that hole, baby. Would have you sent up to the clinic just to see what they could do for it. Tryna hide your face all embarrassed when you gotta tell ‘em it’s all wrecked like that because you’re such a nasty fuckin’ whore for my fat cock. Let me use whatever hole I want just because I can, ain’t that right?”
You don’t question why his frenzied promise of fucking your ass so hard you’d need to go to the clinic makes your orgasm come blazing from out of nowhere up the back of your spine. He’s not far behind, a few more thrusts before he’s groaning and filling you with more wet and slip. You collapse together onto the bed and lay limp and panting for what seems like forever as he softens inside you.
You come back to earth when Joel gently nudges you and nuzzles your neck and ear. “You okay?”
It always struck something strange in your chest when he got tender like that, sounding genuinely worried he’d gone too far or been too rough. But, just like always, it was exactly what you needed. What you both needed.
“I’m okay. Felt so good,” you tell him in earnest. He pulls you closer to him and drinks in your praise. He needed this as much as he needed to bury himself inside of you. “Always make me feel so good, Joel.”
He hums a little gravelly acknowledgement and presses a line of soft kisses to your neck. You smile and wiggle your head for him to kiss more of you. It felt unreal in these moments afterward, each time building something strangely sacred and dangerously close to attachment. To companionship. To raw, genuine feelings. To love.
But that hadn’t ever been the point of this, and it felt terrifying to acknowledge. It was easy to say you came to him because he made you feel wanted. It was easy to say he broke you down and built you back up because you gave him that control.
It was decidedly complicated to say you maybe had found more in each other than intended, and neither of you needed complicated. So you deflect. You change the subject. You skirt around the elephant in the room.
“So,” you start and turn over to face him. He hisses as his softening cock slides out of you. You feel his cum dribble out of your cunt, and you want so badly to press your hand down there to keep every bit of him inside you longer.
He props himself up on his elbow to focus his attention on whatever it is you’re about to say, his fingertip drawing idle lines across your jaw and lips.
“You wanna fuck my ass for the first time, and I’m gonna get reamed so bad I’m gonna need to seek medical attention?” you tease.
He laughs a little at your delivery and at himself for getting so unhinged that he’d babbled about it in the first place. “Nah, baby, just got caught up in the moment. Would never wanna wreck it that bad ‘cause then I wouldn’t be able to fuck it again.”
You snort and grab at his chin. “Wow, not because I would have a wrecked asshole for the rest of my life? You just want it intact enough to fuck as many times as you want?”
He shoots you a lopsided grin that makes your stomach flip. “Ain’t that the point of all this? Me fuckin’ you how I want? You gettin’ what you need?”
It sounds false on his lips to the point that even he makes a microexpression of acknowledgement that it might’ve started that way but had morphed into something more – something complicated. But, at least for today, you were going to keep it easy.
“Yeah, I guess so,” you agree with an impish smile. You drag Joel down into a sloppy, lazy kiss.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#pedro pascal characters#joel miller#the last of us#the last of us fic#tlou#tlou fic#tlou smut
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