#panic! at the disco fluff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loverontheleft · 3 months

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Happiest (revised)

Original request(s): I would love an imagine where the reader and Brendon are at Disney World, and he proposes in front of Cinderella Castle and it’s just so fluffy and sweet? Thanks! Aaaaaaand I would love to have a Brendon x reader imagine during a slow dance in their home followed by really slow, passionate, fairly vanilla sex.

Brendon x reader

Word count: 3.9k➡️5k

Warnings: nothing really. Pretty vanilla per the request.

-||-

“Bren, why are we walking so fast?” You’re practically trotting alongside your boyfriend, your hands tangled together as he cuts through the crowd—well, as he follows through the parting of the people Zack makes as he cuts through the crowd while Jake brings up the rear, his camera in tow. “Our next Genie+ pass isn’t until—” you pause to think.

“5:30. For the Seven Dwarves. But—” Brendon cuts himself off and tugs you close so you’re flush against him as a tour group in bright yellow shirts marches by, chanting at the top of their lungs. “But we’ve got somewhere to be,” he finishes, stroking the small of your back. “Come on, my love.” He nods in the direction where Zack and Jake are waiting patiently. Before starting though, he adjusts his hat as the stragglers of the tour group shoot you both furtive looks. You nudge him and look up at him, and he looks back at you. You’re silently asking the question, and Brendon nods. There’s a bit of time.

He waves at the teenagers, who squeal in stunned recognition, while you dart away to tell Zack that Brendon needs five minutes. Mission accomplished, you move back to where your boyfriend stands, and offer to take the photos. He beams at you, and the girls are gushing with gratitude to you both.

Photos taken and Zack alerted, he’s back to his brutal pace, and you and Brendon are laughing as you stumble over each other to keep up with him. Jake is taking his time, stopping and shooting his own photos seemingly at random but always catching back up with you by weaving through the crowds effortlessly. When you finally come to a stop, you stare up at the castle in front of you. “Brendon, what are we—” but your stomach growling interrupts you before you can finish the thought. He smiles.

“Fixing that. Come on, Y/n. We’re having lunch at the castle!” Brendon beams at you as Zack leads your group into the tunnel cutting through the castle and opens an ornate door on one side. You must look like a child at Christmas when you launch yourself at Brendon, hugging him tightly, and you can hear the shutter of Jake’s camera going crazy. “Happy, Princess?” Brendon murmurs in your ear. You nod, still clinging to him.

“You do make me feel like a princess,” you tell him, smiling radiantly. “I’m the luckiest, happiest girl.”

He kisses your forehead and holds you close as Zack lets the cast member at the hostess stand know the four of you are here. “Zack doesn’t mind being the responsible adult, handling all of this for us, does he?” You cling to Brendon, and he shakes his head.

“Nah. For one thing, he knows I shouldn’t do it myself. Best to lie low whenever possible. Small things like the photos earlier aren’t a big deal, but…my name on a lunch reservation feels different. And our anxiety manifests differently. Mine, I need to avoid it all. He needs to feel like he’s in control. And this way, he is. Despite what he may say or how he rolls his eyes, he likes taking care of you. He knows you’re important to me,” and Brendon breaks off so he can kiss you softly. “He knows you’re important to me, which means you’re important to him. He knows you make me the happiest I’ve ever been so…he’s going to keep you safe and keep you around.” Brendon shifts a little, biting his lip. “I love you.”

Your eyes are welling, and you clutch him to you. “I love you too. Thank you for treating me so well.” Brendon smiles and brushes his lips over yours once more, murmuring that he’s only treating you the way you deserve to be treated. “Still…” you trail off when Zack beckons. “Oooh! Time to go,” you say giddily, tugging at Brendon’s hand. “Let’s go, baby!”

-||-

“How do I look?” Brendon angles the plastic crown on his head and looks to you for approval. “That bad?” He teases when he catches your rapt expression. “Yikes, I knew I’d look dumb, but—” and as he reaches to remove the crown, you shoot out a hand and slap his away.

“Don’t you dare. You look gorgeous,” you murmur, transfixed on him. “Absolutely gorgeous. My Prince Charming.” He beams at you and raises his glass to yours, tapping them together lightly. “To us,” you say with a smile. He echoes your toast happily, and you both drink. Zack and Jake mimic the two of you, making you and Brendon blush and laugh.

“Sorry guys, we’ll try to stop living in our own little world,” you offer, and Jake shrugs, urging you two to lean together so he can take a photo. Brendon gets up and moves around the table to wrap his arms around you, and you smile up at him, forgetting about the camera and everything else. You tend to do that in his arms. There’s the snap of the shutter—you both blink, adjusting your expressions for the camera.

“Don’t bother,” Jake says with a wave, studying the preview screen. “That candid was everything.” He turns the camera to show you both, and you gasp quietly. “I know, right? It’s perfect.” Jake looks ridiculously pleased with himself, but you have to concede that the photo is definitely your new favorite.

Brendon kisses the top of your head before moving back to his seat. Once seated, he reaches across the table, taking your hands.

“Alright, time for a confession.” You look at him with wide eyes, and he smiles nervously. “This technically isn’t just a vacation.” Brendon pauses, and you nod, encouraging him to continue, even though you’re confused. “I have something important to do later. But if you’ll bear with me, I promise it’ll be worth it.” He smiles reassuringly and squeezes your hands. “I promise.”

“I believe you,” you tell him, raising your intertwined hands to kiss your interlocked fingers. “You always keep your promises. What do you have to do later that’s important?” He mimes zipping his lips and grins at you as the server places your side salads in front of you. You’re distracted; you give a quiet squeal of delight and gesture at your salad bowl. “Bren, even the croutons are shaped like Mickey!” He laughs delightedly at your glee and nods, watching you happily. “B, this is amazing. You’re amazing. Even if you won’t tell me what we’re really here for, this is amazing, and I’m so happy.”

“I’m glad. You being happy is all I ever want.” He shoots Zack a playfully dirty look when Zack gags into his cheeseburger, and you all laugh before digging into your food. “I mean it,” Brendon murmurs later over the slice of cake you’re sharing for dessert. “You being happy is everything to me.” You stab a piece of cake with frosting and bring it to his lips, smiling when he delicately plucks it from your fork.

“I am happy. I'm so happy. Brendon, my love, I’m the happiest. Are you?” You ask the question softly, taking your own bite. He nods eagerly, echoing your statement and strokes your hand that’s resting on the table with his index finger. “Good. You are so good and kind and wonderful. You deserve to be the happiest you can be,” you tell him, leaning in and meeting his lips for a soft, chaste kiss. As you part, the server approaches with the bill; Brendon holds out his wrist to tap his magic band to the scanner. Quickly, he signs the slip she offers and adds a tip before the four of you stand.

Brendon slips an arm around your waist and holds you close so Zack can lead the way out of the restaurant. You duck your head and follow Zack out, Brendon right behind you. His hand on the small of your back is soothing; you relax into his touch. Once you’re outside, you both slip your hats back on and check each other. “Good?” You ask, and he nods, kissing you quickly.

“Perfect. I’m good too?” He asks, tugging at the brim of his hat, and you echo him, taking both of his hands in yours and swinging them back and forth. “Good,” he affirms, squeezing your hands. “Let’s go,” he says after a moment, beckoning you to follow him. You’re at a leisurely pace now, and Zack pauses by a building designed to look like a fire station on Main Street. He knocks on a door, and it opens; Zack herds you and Brendon inside.

“Here we are,” Brendon murmurs, shrugging out of his leather jacket, leaving him in black jeans and a black t-shirt. You shiver just looking at him, and he slings it over your shoulders. “Cold, sweetness?” When you nod, he presses his lips to your forehead. “Then I’ll leave it with you. And my hat.” He nests it over yours. “Keep those safe for me?” He asks, and you give him a quizzical look.

“Where will you be? Wait, where are we?”

Brendon smiles sheepishly when a Disney cast member trots up with a clipboard in hand. The back of the clipboard has a familiar wreath logo on it, and you gape at him in disbelief. “Are you…no…wait. Are you—are you going to be in the Disney Christmas parade?” You’re whispering, even though everyone in this huge room seems to be in on the plan.

He grins at you and nods as another cast member appears with a garment bag. She unzips it swiftly and whips out a jacket you’ve never seen before, but it’s definitely meant for Brendon: the gold swirls look like a recent tour jacket, but these are slightly more precise, more uniform, and they look like—you grab his arm. “Those are Mickey heads!”

Brendon smiles and nods as he slips into the jacket, and yet another cast member comes up with a small black case that opens to reveal his signature golden microphone. “Urie, you sneak!” You exclaim in a stunned whisper, unable to stop grinning. “I didn’t even know they were recording today. This is the best surprise ever.”

“Hopefully not ever,” he murmurs with a small smile, passing you the microphone to hold while Zack slips him the box with his cufflinks; they’re a custom black opalescent set you got him last Christmas with his band’s logo engraved in them, and you get a little thrill every time you see him wear them. “Okay. I’ll see you soon, my love.” He kisses you once more, holding you close and breathing you in. “I won’t miss our Genie+ pass. Promise.” He pulls back and smiles, eyes shining. “I love you, Y/n.”

You whisper it back, hand him his microphone, and he blows you one last kiss as he’s whisked away by the cast members; you whirl around to look at Zack and Jake. “You guys knew?” They exchange looks and then meet your eyes. “Oh, of course, you knew. He couldn’t take one step without one of you knowing about it. Okay, so…now what? Do we get to watch? Where do we watch?” You’re impatient; you just want to see him perform. You know they’re taping and will require several takes, but you don’t care. You love watching him perform and want to see every moment of it.

At your question, a woman looks up; she recognizes Zack and waves the three of you over. There’s a cluster of large monitors and chairs; Jake makes himself comfortable in one and you do too, settling in to wait.

It’s been probably about twenty minutes when one of the cast members who is standing around introduces herself and says she’s in training to work in the boutique doing hair; she asks if she can practice on you. You’re not opposed, but you don’t know the plan. When you glance at Zack, he shrugs and nods, telling you you’ve got the time.

She flags down two fellow cast members to do your makeup and nails after begging to let them practice on you, and before you know it, your vision is entirely blocked by the woman doing your makeup and, honestly, you don’t mind. You know they’re not filming yet, so you're not missing anything, and the brushes feel good on your skin. You only did the bare minimum this morning: a tinted moisturizer, some mascara, and your lip gloss. But Shannon, as she introduced herself, is going all out, studying you from different angles while Tori works on your hair, debating between different styles behind you, and Renee works diligently at your cuticles. The camera shutter startles you; you look up, and Jake is grinning at you innocently, telling you Brendon will want to see you all done up.

-||-

“God,” you marvel, looking at yourself in the mirror. “You’re all incredible!” They blush and thank you before turning their attention to the monitor where you can see Brendon’s float just edging onto the screen. His voice carries through the air, and you’re swooning internally, watching him work the crowd from the Nightmare Before Christmas float he’s been assigned. Everyone else in the waiting area is mesmerized too, and your heart swells with pride. Your man is so talented and makes people so happy. He’s clearly having the time of his life, and you can’t wait to curl up in bed with him and have him tell you all about it.

It’s been maybe thirty minutes of repetition, of pulling the float back to reshoot from a new angle, when Zack checks his watch and comments that your clothes, a pair of jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt with Brendon’s leather jacket thrown over it, don’t really match your face and hair. The three women guide you out of your chair and lead you away with knowing grins, telling you not to protest.

“I blame you for this, Zack!” You call back teasingly before falling into stunned silence when Shannon flings open a door to a room that’s filled with what looks like dresses in every shade and every type of fabric known to man. “Well,” you say with a good-natured shrug. “You’ve done my hair, nails, and makeup…might as well dress me up too.”

-||-

“Oh Y/n!” Zack exclaims in a teasing voice. “You look like an absolute princess!” You roll your eyes at him and smooth your hands over the black crepe sheath dress Tori convinced you to put on. Brendon’s jacket is still keeping the chilly air off of your otherwise-bare shoulders and you insisted on keeping your high-top converses on; still, you do actually feel pretty fantastic.

Zack checks his watch again. “Right. Come on.” He reaches for you, and you shoot him an alarmed look, saying you’re not going anywhere; you need to go change out of the dress. “No time. We’re going now.” He’s putting a hand on your shoulder and steering you towards the fire station entrance and back towards Main Street, despite your protestations. “Come on, let’s go.”

When you step out onto Main Street, your breath catches. The parade is still going, and it’s absolutely incredible. Zack keeps walking, the hand on your shoulder propelling you gently forward. As you approach the castle, Zack waves at another cast member with a clipboard and headset, and there’s a call to pause. Brendon’s float is centered in front of the castle, and Zack nudges you through the floats. You look up; Brendon is waiting for you, an expectant smile on his face and—is that anxiety in his eyes? “

Brendon, what is this?” Your voice shakes, because you think you know. At least, you hope you know. The hair and makeup, the change of clothes, the manicure, the perfect positioning of the float in front of the castle—it’s all hinting at one thing, and you know you’ll be disappointed if you’re wrong. “Brendon?”

Instead of answering, he holds out one hand for you; you take it, and he leads you to the center of the float, smiling at you reassuringly, his thumb moving in soft circles over the back of your hand.

“I love you,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. Your eyes are wide, your legs are trembling, and your hands are shaking as he raises the microphone back to his mouth. You’re more sure than ever that you know where this is going, and you take a steadying breath. He’s worked so hard to make this all possible; you’re going to take it all in and remember every single detail.

“Two years ago, you made me the happiest man alive when you said yes to being my girlfriend. It’s been two amazing years, and I can honestly say you being by my side for the highs has made them that much sweeter, and the lows have been so much more bearable. You’re perfect for me; we complement each other so well, and I’m so wildly in love with you. I don’t want to go a single day without you in my life. Y/n Y/l/n, will you make me the happiest man alive once more?”

Your hands are over your mouth, and your eyes are brimming with tears as he drops to one knee while fishing a small box out of his suit jacket. Eyes on his, you drop your hands, letting him take your left hand with one as he holds the open ring box carefully in the other. “My love, my dream girl, my princess—can we add one more title? Will you become my wife and do me the honor of marrying me?”

You’re nodding, repeating your “yes” over and over again before the whole sentence is even out of his mouth, and he’s on his feet in an instant, his arms around you as his lips find yours for a passionate, ecstatic embrace. The crash startles you both; you pull away and start laughing giddily as the gold glitter fireworks explode behind the castle. “You’re absolutely incredible; you’re the best man I’ve ever known,” you tell him, forehead resting against his and lips brushing.

“Because you make me strive to be. Let me put your ring on your finger, my love,” Brendon murmurs, stepping back and taking your left hand again so he can slide the ring onto your finger. It’s a perfect fit and truly stunning; it’s a large, round solitaire diamond that shines like nothing you’ve ever seen before. “It looks beautiful on you,” he tells you softly, and you fling your arms around him again, telling him it’s absolutely perfect as you kiss him deeply. His hands slide down your back and move past your waistline; you arch into him, desperate for more. Zack clears his throat, and you pull apart, beaming at each other and breathing hard.

“You’re on a float for a family parade in front of Disney’s castle; everyone is watching. Keep it PG,” Zack intones. “Good news; that was the last take for Brendon. You’re both free to go.”

-||-

“I have one more surprise for you,” Brendon murmurs, stroking your hand lovingly as you sit snuggled up beside him on the grass at the fireworks viewing party following the dessert buffet he booked for your group. You look at him in wonder; he’s had surprise after surprise this afternoon.

“It’s a good one,” he assures you, and you laugh, nudging him with your shoulder and telling him that each surprise has been perfect. “I think you’re really going to like this one though,” he says with a smile. “I hope.” He slings his arm over your shoulder and you burrow against him, warmer now that you’re back in your original clothes—though you appreciate his sneakiness earlier; he knows you well and knew you wouldn’t want to be in jeans when he got down on one knee. The first firework goes off, and he turns his head slightly to kiss your temple. “I love you,” he whispers. “Thank you for making me happier than I ever thought possible. I truly am the happiest I’ve ever been.” You smile up at him and murmur it back, cupping his face in one hand and drawing him in for a long kiss.

When the fireworks come to an end, Brendon stands and offers you his hand; you clamber to your feet and wait for the crowd to disperse. Zack is standing close by and Jake is leaning against the fence of the garden seating area, having gone for a walk to take some photos. When the people thin out, Zack nods and follows closely behind you while Brendon leads the way. Your hands are tangled together and he’s beaming when you approach the castle again. “Brendon, dinner here too?” You’re teasing, but he nods, running his thumb over your ring.

“Sure, we can order room service if you’d like.”

Your eyes go wide. “Wait, what?”

“Honey, we’re home,” Brendon says in a dramatic voice, knocking on a door. “We’re staying in the Cinderella Suite. Just for the night though,” he amends with a grin. “A gift from the Mouse to us, celebrating our engagement.” A cast member in an opulent blue velvet uniform swings the door open and greets you by name with a broad smile. He guides you inside and invites Brendon to tap his magic band against a small panel under a painting of the glass slipper. He does so, and elevator doors slide open. You’re in awe; Brendon guides you in after the cast member, Nathan, and Zack and Jake bring up the rear. As the doors shut, you’re still staring at Brendon in silent wonder. The doors open to a marble foyer, and Nathan leads the way, giving you a brief tour of the space.

Once he leaves, Zack checks in with Brendon, who nods and tells him that you’re both fine and definitely in for the night. “Go back out, have fun,” Brendon tells Zack and Jake, who don’t need to be told twice. The elevator doors close after them, and Brendon turns to you, eyes soft.

“Alone at last,” he murmurs, taking you in his arms. “My sweetest girl. My gorgeous princess. My love. My fiancée.” The word makes you beam; you throw your arms around his neck and he lifts you up slightly, carrying you into the living room, or the salon as Nathan called it.

Brendon places you gently on the couch so you’re sitting, and he turns towards the bookshelves, messing with his phone. After a moment, Sinatra’s “All The Things You Are” softly fills the room. “Dance with me, sweetheart?” He extends a hand to you, and you place yours in his eagerly, letting him pull you close.

He’s singing softly in your ear as you dance slowly, one of his hands sliding down your back to rest at the curve of your spine. “All that I want in all of this world is you,” Brendon’s voice is low and smooth, and you find yourself melting into his arms. He holds you tightly before carefully dipping you, and you swoon playfully. You giggle as he brings you upright again, and you cling to him. “I’m the happiest man alive,” he tells you, kissing you softly. You nod, going on tip-toe to kiss him back tenderly.

As the song closes though, you tug at his shirt, leading him back towards the bedroom you saw earlier. You’re ready to really celebrate. “Bedtime, sweetness?” He follows eagerly when you nod, practically tripping over himself as you both laugh and race to the bed hand in hand.

The large bed has an ornate canopy over it, and he lifts you up and lays you out over the plush comforter. “Let me take care of you,” he whispers, and you nod, already barefoot as his fingers work at your jeans.

He makes quick work of your clothes and it’s not long before you’re both under the covers, pressed against each other with roaming hands and eager mouths. “Brendon,” you murmur against his lips. “I need you.” Your hand sneaks down to stroke him gently, and he kisses your temple. One of his hands slips between your thighs and nudges them apart so he can trace his fingers against the wet heat he finds there. You’re moaning and squirming, desperate for more; you drape your leg over his waist, and he pulls you even closer.

“Need you,” you repeat, running your fingers through his hair and rubbing against him. “Brendon, please.”

“I know, sweetness,” Brendon murmurs, kissing you softly. “I know. I need you. But I also need to get you ready for me; can’t just—” and his hips rock forward. “What kind of fiancé would I be if I just stripped you naked to get my cock in you?”

“Fuck,” you whine, clinging to him. You’re not sure if it’s the feeling of him against your thigh or the things he’s saying, but you’re overwhelmed with lust. “I know you’re being wonderful right now, but—”

Brendon laughs, shaking his head and kissing your forehead. “But nothin, sweet girl,” he teases. “We’re going to do this right, okay?” When you sigh your acceptance, he moves down your body and presses a gentle kiss to your hip. Your back arches just feeling his warm breath on your skin, and your legs fall open wider for him. “Good girl.”

“Oh, yes,” you moan, delving your hands down under the covers to grip his head. “Oh please, Brendon, yes!”

His tongue is moving with delicate strokes, lips caressing and breathing heavy. You’re glad he insisted on foreplay; you love his mouth so much. Brendon’s making soft, desperate sounds as he buries his face in you more firmly, his fingers wrapping around your waist and holding you in place on his mouth. After a moment, both of his hands move behind your knees, guiding them up so the blankets drape over him loosely.

You can’t stop moving against him, can’t stop whimpering his name and praising his tongue or the way he’s slipped two fingers in deep and is curling them back. You gasp, and Brendon nods, murmuring that he wants you to come for him. “Come on my face; give me all this sweetness—love you so much, want you to let go, really come for me. Know you can, and you know I want it all. Give your man everything you’ve got.”

You kick the blankets off, needing to see him. His dark eyes flash up from between your legs; you moan when his tongue rubs against your clit, and then you’re coming hard. Your body is trembling, eyes wide open, lips parted, and your fingers curl in his hair as you come with a loud squeal.

Brendon groans, tongue caressing while his fingers keep stroking through your climax, and you’re trembling when he crawls up the bed to take you in his arms. “Hi, my love,” he murmurs, grinning when you clutch him close and kiss him desperately. “It was good, then?”

“Yes; god, so good,” you whisper, nodding to reinforce your point. Brendon sighs contentedly, running a hand between your legs and stroking over his length. “Need you,” you remind him, and he agrees, situating himself over you and kissing you as he pushes in. His quick intake of breath matches your short gasp of pleasure; he caresses your face as his hips move slowly. “Yes,” you repeat, raking both hands through his hair and holding his mouth close to yours. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Brendon says as he rocks forward again, going deeper this time. “Does this feel good?” You tell him yes, you can’t get enough of him; his mouth is on yours again, and he’s got one hand resting on your thigh while the other cups your face, lingering between you and the pillow. You’ve got one hand playing with his hair at the nape of his neck while the other strokes over his back. “I love you so much,” he repeats, resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you too,” you whisper, clinging to him. “So much. I’m going to be your wife.” At the word, both of you break out into uncontrollable grins, and he holds you tight, both of you moaning and moving together slowly. “Oh B,” you whimper, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Don’t stop.”

“Not gonna,” Brendon groans, breathing hard. “Y/n, love, my sweet girl, you feel so—”

“Yeah,” you agree in a tight voice. “Yeah, you feel so good—oh god, Brendon! Brendon! Now!”

“Y/n, yes!” The hand framing your face moves to caress your hair and his mouth is on yours with urgency. You’re both moaning into each other’s mouths, your tongues touching and lips moving together as his stomach tenses, and you feel him come. Feeling him brings a hot second wave of pleasure through you, and he groans, clutching you close as you tremble under him. “That’s it honey, come for me. Come for your future husband.”

“Ooooooh fuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head as you quiver in his arms. “Brendon, yes!”

“Y/n,” Brendon murmurs after a moment when both of your breaths are steady and even again, nuzzling your nose. “You’re so beautiful. All the time, but especially when you come for me.”

“God, Brendon,” you say with a soft laugh. “You’re—you’re perfect.”

“You are too, Y/n. Perfect and perfect for me,” Brendon says as he brushes your hair over your ear and pulls you closer still. “You’re so damn perfect for me. You’re everything I've ever wanted in a partner. I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispers in your ear, stroking your thigh.

“I’m pretty sure they call Disney the happiest place on earth,” you mumble, resting your head against his chest. “Well, I can confirm that’s true. I’m the happiest girl alive right now, and I will be, as long as I’m your wife. So basically forever,” you say with a soft smile. “Since I’m always going to be yours.”

“They also call it the place where dreams come true,” Brendon tells you, kissing your forehead. “And, to quote the love of my heart, the light of my life, and my future wife…I can confirm that’s true, because you’re my dream girl, and I’m always going to be yours.” He kisses you once more as you snuggle in closer. “Y/n…all of my dreams came true today. I love you so much.”

#brendon urie #brendon urie fluff #brendon urie smut #brendon urie imagine #brendon x reader #brendon urie fanfiction #he could fuck me any way he wanted #my work #fanfic #imagine #panic! at the disco

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uncaaj · 9 months

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Fanfic: I Luv U Emo Boy XD (DuckTales 17)

Based on an AU by @georgiarose and Glo

READ NOW ON AO3!

The perfect day off began like this- with the drop of a CD into a boombox. The disc whirred to life and the echoing notes of a lonely piano filled the subdued, poster-riddled bedroom of Gyro Gearloose. He stretched his lanky arms to the ceiling and brought them down gracefully, cracking his neck just as the lead singer of his favorite band began to tell a story.

When I was a young boy

My father drove me into the city

To see a marching band

Gyro swept his long, jet-black bangs out of his eyes.

Perfect.

Walking over to the mirror next to his dresser, he snatched a black tube from the top of it and unscrewed the cap. The brush inside emerged covered in cheap eyeliner, color “Eternal Night.” As he carefully drew the makeup around the perimeter of his eyes, making sure to keep the lines simple and clean, he contemplated what he was going to wear. The sun was at its summer peak, roasting everything outside to a fine golden brown. No matter, for he had laid out his outfit the night before, something his parents would call a proactive and studious action. What did they know? They shouldn’t get their hopes up thinking he’d ever live the life they did. He just didn’t want to spend forever deciding what to wear, not when that time was better spent browsing for the new Haythorne Heights CD, which would be out any day now.

That, and impressing his boyfriend.

Speaking of, it was time to see if he was up. He probably was. Gyro was a late sleeper, something his parents frowned upon. Whatever. Gyro closed up the eyeliner and returned it to the dresser, making a mental note that he should get more while he was out. He grabbed his phone and flipped it open, heading straight for the top of his contact list.

“Gyro!” called a voice outside the door. “Can you please turn your music down? Your father can’t hear the big game!”

Gyro rolled his eyes and turned the knob a fraction of a percent down. Parents.

+++

Oh, well, imagine

As I’m pacing the pews in a church corridor

And I can’t help but to hear

No, I can’t help but to hear an exchanging of words

Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera tried not to nod his head to the upbeat, plinky sounds of his own boombox as he applied his eyeliner. Luckily he had done this so much, he had the application down to a fine science. All of his friends were jealous, even Gyro, the emo-est emo he’d ever known.

Fenton’s phone vibrated on his desk. Speaking of…

He finished up and screwed the brush back into the vial. He flipped the phone open with his thumb and saw the new text notification.

“hey loser XD u up?”

Fenton smiled and started pressing the keypad, which he also knew inside and out for the perfect SMSs. “I woke up at 9am this morning. Are you up?”

“lol who r u, my mom?”

“I love you too. :3 When are you coming?”

“in 10 min, we got the new spiked bandS @ the HT”

“:DDDDDD”

“see u soon”

His bedroom door opened. Fenton shut the phone and looked up. M’ma Cabrera walked in, lugging a laundry basket. “You got your clothes sorted, pollito?” she asked.

“Yes, M’ma, on my bed,” said Fenton, turning the music down so he could hear her properly.

She held the basket out on the bed’s edge and scooped the pile of neon tees and striped pull-ons into it with one motion. “So who’s taking you to the mall today?” she asked.

Fenton gulped and ran his fingers through his long purple-tipped hair. He had forgotten to mention that part until now and he knew she wouldn’t be thrilled knowing who he’d grabbed a ride from. “Er, Gyro Gearloose,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

M’ma sighed and put the basket onto the bed. “You know I don’t like you hanging out with that boy.”

“M’ma, he’s not that bad-”

“He’s careless, he’s disrespectful and he smokes- bad habits very easy to pick up. And I bought you all those nice shirts for your first college semester and you are dressing like a piñata!”

“M’ma, this is what everybody’s wearing. But I’m not doing it to fit in. It’s an expression of who I am.”

M’ma sighed again and wrapped her son up in a big hug. “Your mama can’t help it. I just don’t want you getting into any trouble, that’s all.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Fenton, trying a little to squirm out of the hug. “I trust him, and you can trust me.”

M’ma nodded. “Okay, Fenton.” She smooched him on the forehead and went back to grab the laundry basket. “Just make sure you’re back by dinnertime, okay?”

“Yes, M’ma,” said Fenton, waving her out. As soon as the door shut, he exhaled in relief. He loved his M’ma, but boy, was she smothering sometimes.

A little while later, Fenton heard a car horn outside his window. His excitement spiked in his chest and he practically tumbled out the door into the living room. “I’m leaving, M’ma! Love you, see you at dinner, bye!”

It all came out as one word as he bolted out of the house, but M’ma understood it perfectly anyway. Her own motherly instinct spiking, she carefully placed the sudsy plate she was sponging back into the sink and made her way to the front window. Peeking through the blinds, she saw Fenton and Gyro leaning against the latter’s car. Gyro, dressed in a black beanie, black t-shirt whose band logo she didn’t recognize, black skinny jeans, and black boots despite the blazing temperature outside had his phone held up high, Fenton in his other arm as they posed for a picture. M’ma sighed, seeing wisps of smoke emit from the cigarette in Gyro’s mouth. She knew Fenton was at the age where she could let go some and let him live his life, but darn it if he didn’t make so hard to do so. Still, it was the price of the gig and she would love him and support him to the ends of the earth no matter what.

As the camera shutter clicked, Gyro caught sight of Mrs. Cabrera peeping at them through the front window of Fenton’s house and sent a dark sneer in her direction. She was unfazed, police women usually weren’t, and made the “I have my eyes on you” motion toward him before letting the blinds go and returning to whatever it is she was doing. Gyro rolled his eyes.

“What’s up?” said Fenton.

“Parents,” Gyro scoffed.

“She means well, I promise. She bought me this the other day.” He motioned toward his pink shirt with a kooky character on the front from that one Invader Zir show on TV.

“Well, that’s something. You’ll get tons of likes when I post this on ThisSpace later.”

“D’ya think we’ll make front page?” Fenton bounced on his toes at the thought.

Gyro blushed. Gods, he was so cute. All he could do was shrug and give him a peck on the forehead, then walked over to the driver’s seat of his all-black rustbucket. As Gyro and Fenton peeled away from suburban hell, engine sputtering all the while, he asked, “You mind if we stop at Starducks first? I feel like the undead.”

“Fine with me. Maybe I’ll try that new hibiscus refresher they have.”

“You’re so fruity, dork.”

“You’re my boyfriend so who’s really the fruity one?”

“...touche.”

Gyro pressed the play button, and the two lovebirds entered their pure nirvana set to a CD in a stereo.

Dance, dance

We’re falling apart to half-time

Dance, dance

And these are the lives you love to lead

Dance, this is the way they’d love

If they knew how misery loved me

#ducktales #fanfiction #disney ducks #ducktales 17 #dt17 #gyro gearloose #fenton crackshell cabrera #emo #my chemical romance #mcr #panic! at the disco #p!tad #fall out boy #fluff #gay #bisexual

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kinnersonne · 1 year

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Hot take: Loki liked panic! until Thor liked panic!

#loki mcu #loki headcanon #thor odinson #loki odinson #loki fluff #mcu loki #panic at the disco

12 notes · View notes

ryanross5eva · 3 days

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ABSENCE [RYAN ROSS X BRENDON URIE]

TW: Self harm, self harm references, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, child abuse, blood, sharp objects, suicide attempts, suicidal thoughts and suicide references .

Please do not continue to read if you are sensitive to any of these topics!

Angsty/fluffy Teen! Brendon Urie x Teen! Ryan Ross oneshot.

Word Count: 6753

Hope you enjoy, please comment on any errors or improvements/suggestions or if there are any trigger warnings i missed! This is my first post. I apologise if it's bad yikes >_<.

Also put any one shot requests into the comments.

If you have any other ships or x readers (of emo men) put them in the comments.

—————-

Ryan kicked his shoes off and walked into his house. The horribly familiar scent of alcohol filled his nose, quickly running upstairs to avoid his dad. They lived in a relatively small town, his dad only went to his job for alcohol. He was getting money from his dead wife's bank account; he figured that kept Ryan’s needs sorted. Ryan would often get beatings from his dad, he never had a safe place until he went to school. Even at school he would be bullied and Ryan usually went home to cry himself to sleep. He always wishes everything would be different. Perhaps it would be better if his mom was here; he still went to visit her gravestone every weekend. His dad didn’t care for her except for the money he obtained from her death.

Ryan usually woke up at 5:45am to get ready for school. He had to do everything himself, so it took him longer than others who had their parents support. Ryan had set out all his clothes for the day, until something caught his eye. He looked down at the faded scars on his wrist; they reminded him of the times where he used to self-harm to feel better. Especially after his mother’s death. He stared around his room; the wooden box containing blades had an unusual enticing aura. fuck. He couldn’t relapse now, he’s 3 whole months clean; nearly 100 days.

He swiftly grabbed the blade and made 7 deep slashes across his wrist. He grabbed a tissue to clean himself up.It was the middle of summer and 71.6°F outside. He’d either just have to risk being spotted by teachers or wear a jacket all day. It was way too hot for a jacket and he had sports today; there is no way he could go with a jacket on all day. His school didn’t even have any goddamn air con. Ryan eventually decided to leave his jacket at home and try to cover up his fresh scars with band bracelets. He scrambled down the stairs with his bag slung over his shoulder.

“GET HERE RIGHT NOW!” His dad furiously shouted, Ryan could feel his stomach bubbling with anxiety and dread. He had to obey his father otherwise the punishment would be 10 times worse. He knew what was coming, it happened everyday. His father would punch him and occasionally break glass bottles on his head. Ever since he was born his dad became addicted to drugs. He blamed it on Ryan as he became a father when he didn’t want to.

As Ryan obtained eye contact with the burly irate man, he could see him clench his fist and shake with frustration. He braced himself as he took a clean strike straight to the head, that would definitely bruise quickly. Ryan always had to lie to the teacher and make up excuses. For example ‘I fell over.’ or ‘I got in a fight with another student.’ but Ryan knew he couldn’t keep up th at counterfeit for much longer.

Tears burned his face as his dad yelled for him to leave. He didn’t have anyone anymore. No mother, an unloving father and zero friends. The teachers that he could supposedly go and talk to didn’t even care, that's their job! They're supposed to fake sympathy even if they don't even mean it.

Ryan slammed the door and shoved his headphones in his ears. Even if he didn’t have any special people in his life, he had music. One day he dreamt of being famous. School had recently been getting worse for him; people would constantly call him gay or emo. Sure, he dressed in band shirts but he wasn’t the definition of emo. He never dated anyone, how would he even know if he was gay! His favourite band was my chemical romance, he always looked up to them. Everyday he would listen to them on the way to school. They truly changed his life, they were his source of comfort and inspiration he needed.

Ryan sucked in a deep breath as he arrived at the school gates. Almost immediately getting shouted at. When would this stop? Would it ever stop before it got too much? He just headed to his locker to prepare for English. BANG. There he was in Ryan’s eyeline, the well-known school bully. Already being bullied 3 minutes into the school day…yay. Ryan hated this, being bullied everyday just to go home to an even worse environment. He learned life isn’t always fair but can always be unfair.

He sat in English literature class, alone and bored. The students awaited the arrival of their teacher, Mrs Kay. Everyone was throwing paper aeroplanes and pencils at each other; until, Mrs Kay walked into class with an unfamiliar student. As she saw the disastrous sight of the classroom, she gave a disappointed sigh.

“Class! sit down, please welcome to our classroom a new student. His name is Brendon Urie.” He slowly made his way to the back of the classroom and sat in one of 3 empty desks next to Ryan. He tried to ignore the stinging on his wrists as a new wave of anxiety hit him. He tried to cover his fresh, beedy, scarlet cuts as best as he possibly could; hopefully no one would notice because then he’d be perfect for the bullies to target. They already did anyways, he just couldn’t have anyone see what he went through. His mental state was at an all time low. But, his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the new kid.

“Hey, as you know I’m Brendon. I thought you look pretty cool; I like your style. So, I thought I’d come sit next to you! What’s your name?” Ryan stared at him with shocked glassy eyes. No one had ever been this nice to him.

“Oh, um hi, thanks I’m Ryan Ross. I like your style too.” A smile crept upon his face. He hadn’t felt a genuine smile since his mother was still alive. Brendon shot back a true friendly smile back at him.

“I was wondering if we could have lunch together? If you have any friends I’d love to meet them!” Ryan’s smile faded away slowly. The other boy gave him a sympathetic confused look. He cleared his throat as Ryan just stared off into space.

“Shit, sorry. Yeah I’d like it if we had lunch together,” Ryan paused before continuing with the hard part. “I don’t have any friends though, the only human interaction I usually get is teachers or bullies,” He sighed and let out a small laugh. Brendon stared wide-eyed at the skinny tall boy.

They sat through the rest of the English lesson quietly, occasionally making jokes or commenting on things Mrs Kay said. Ryan kept seeing the teachers glance at his wrist, he continued to shift in his chair. RING. That was the bell for class to be over. Finally! He could get to know Brendon a bit more. But he just had to be interrupted by Mrs Kay.

“Ryan, could I have a word with you please?” Of course Ryan had to agree to it. Who was he to refuse a goddamn teacher? There certainly is no way to get out of this. He just nodded his head and walked towards her. “Ryan, I’m concerned about you. I’ve seen your wrist and I have these mental health concerns and possible ways to fix them on these documents. I need your dad to have them, is that ok?” His palms became sweaty and he tapped his fingers together.

“Is there anyone else we could give it to Mrs Kay?” Ryan anxiously asked.

“Do you have any friends that could help you?” She questioned, obviously knowing the boy’s social life.

“Actually I do,” Ryan replied as he snatched the papers out of her hands and ran to go meet Brendon in the lunch hall.

He took a deep breath before he entered the grand lunch hall. Ryan sat down next to his new friend; he quickly grabbed his lunchbox out of his bag.

“Hey, so I need to tell you something important. Then I have a huge favour I need to ask you,” He spluttered as Brendon took a bite of his sandwich. He happily replied with a simple nod. “Around 5 months ago my mother died,” Brendon looked at the boy with a flabbergasted expression upon his face. “Also, my dad beats me and he is addicted to drugs and alcohol. Obviously having all of that happen to me is quite a burden, after my mom died I fell into a deep spiral of depression…” Ryan didn’t quite realise how many tears started flowing down his face at this point. Brendon wrapped his arm around him as a source of comfort.

“It's ok Ryan, take your time,” He took a small slurp of his drink before panning his attention back to him. Ryan sucked in a deep calming breath before continuing. Words failed to come out of Ryan’s mouth, so he did the next thing he could think of. He carefully removed all the bracelets for his wrist and showed them to Brendon. “I get it Ryan, I’m here for you.” He engulfed him in a warm caring hug.

“I’m sorry, we just met. I shouldn’t have told you this, I understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.” He got up to run away but Brendon grabbed his arm to pull him back. Ryan winced at the stinging sensation reappearing.

“Ryan. I still want to be your friend. I can tell beneath everything that you’ve put up with is a boy who just wants to feel loved again,” He stared at him with an understanding look in his eyes as Ryan slumped back down. “Anyways, what was this ‘favour’ you needed me to do?”

“Mrs Kay gave me these papers about mental health. She said I need to give them to someone because they might be able to help me with panic attacks and stopping self harm,” Ryan sniffled. Brendon took the papers out of his hands and quickly scanned over them.

“How about we go to my house later? We can get to know each other even better and we can discuss these papers,” He flashed a toothy smile at Ryan. He just replied with a simple nod.

The rest of lunch and school went a lot smoother than usual from Ryan’s perspective. Having a friend around really does make life more enjoyable. They agreed to meeting each other in the parking lot after school.

Brendon talked about himself on the walk to his house, simply so Ryan could get to know him better. They scraped their shoes along the warm concrete sidewalk as they approached the Urie’s household.

“I’m home now mom!” brendon shouted as he took a step closer to his kitchen. “I brought a friend over, hope you don’t mind,”

“Of course not honey!” Mrs Urie exclaimed whilst wiping her hands on a towel. Ryan nervously gulped before gaining the courage to speak. His eyes nervously flickered around the room, seeing quite a few religious items such as multiple bibles.

“Hi Mrs Urie, I’m Ryan, nice to meet you!” He blurted before being pulled into a motherly hug. Tears filled his eyes. He forgot what a mothers love felt like.

“Nice to meet you too Ryan, friends are always welcome here!” He only had time to reply with a small nod as he got dragged upstairs by Brendon. Before he knew it he was entering Brendon’s colourful yet very teenage room.

“So, I had a look at the papers and it’s just about frequently checking up on you. I think we can handle that,” Brendon cheerfully explained.

“Yeah, I think we can!” Ryan replied with a cheshire-cat-like grin spreading upon his face. His smile was clearly contagious as brendon has an identical one spread across his face as well.

They continued chatting together but were eventually cut off by Ryan’s phone buzzing. Seeing as it was his dad, he thought he better answer it or there would probably be consequences. “Sorry Brendon, I have to take this,” Brendon simply nodded as Ryan headed just outside his room.

“RYAN! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” His dad shouted down the line. Ryan started to anxiously pick at his nails as he thought of his response carefully.

“I’m at a friend's house, sorry.” His breathing slowly picked up as he awaited his dad’s reply.

“Just get home now, I’ll just have to punish you later!” He sighed. Ryan’s eyes pricked with tears as he slid down the wall. Teardrops soaked his jeans as he quietly sobbed. He ripped a piece of paper from his homework and wrote an explanation to Brendon.

‘Sorry. I had to leave :P’

He grabbed his bag from the hallway and left the Urie house. Thank god his house was only a couple blocks away. God only knows what his dad was about to do.

Brendon slowly creaked his door open; it’d been 10 minutes since Ryan left to take the call. Surely it can’t take that long. To Brendon’s surprise, Ryan wasn’t there at all. He frantically scrammed back into his room to flop back onto his bed. Had Ryan text him?

From Ryan:

I left a note, sorry.

His heart raced as he crept back outside and read the note. He left Ryan a few texts along the lines of ‘Don’t worry’ or ‘Where did you go?’ to say he was concerned about him was an understatement. He was extremely distressed over his new friend. What if he gets beaten again? Even though he only met him today, Ryan was his number 1 priority. The scent of food disrupted his thoughts. He went downstairs and slumped down at the dinner table.

Ryan took a deep shaky breath as his dad opened the door. “Get here you little shit.” His dad’s voice rang through his ears. The only sound Ryan could let out was a weak whimper. Before he knew it, an empty beer bottle was smashed against his head. His dad gave out a menacing chuckle, pushing him straight to the floor. “You are garbage, don’t forget it.” Ryan sluggishly walked upstairs; he felt exceedingly lightheaded. Even more than all the normal times his father beat him, he was so used to the sensation. But he could tell this was unusual. When he entered the bathroom, his vision went blurry and dark as he collapsed into a heap on the ground.

Three hours later.

It was 8:15pm, 4 whole hours since Brendon last spoke to Ryan. Brendon was casually scrolling myspace, until he noticed how alarming it was that Ryan hadn’t responded. His mind panned back to what he had told him earlier, wait, did he go home? What happened with his dad. He didn’t have any time to waste as he chucked on his shoes and yelled to his mom. “I’m going to check on a friend, is that okay?”

“Of course honey,” and with his mom’s confirmation he sped out the door. His sneakers scuffed along the damp concrete and he puffed out heavy exhausted breaths. Rain fell upon his face as he ran so hard his legs nearly gave out.

Hang on, how was he going to get in? Fuck. He should've thought of this before he sprinted here. After pondering on what he should do, he spotted a window which was cracked open. He squeezed his body into the tight gap and got into the house. He could see the staircase from where he was standing. Loud chuckles and clattering of beer bottles against tables were erupting from the room next door. So, if that was Ryan’s dad he could easily get upstairs without being caught.

Once he tiptoed upstairs, a thud sound came from behind a closed door. Surely no one else was here, right? As the cogs turned in his brain, it came to him that it was Ryan. Frantically, his hands turned the doorknob to reveal Ryan curled in a ball on the ground. Brendon examined his whole body checking for injuries; blood was streaming out of his head. He inspected the injury closer and pulled small shards of what looked like beer bottle glass out from his brown locks.

“Ryan, can you hear me?” Brendon calmly spoke as he shook the young boy. He didn’t respond. His body laid unconsciously on the freezing tiles. Small teardrops turned into loud sobs as Brendon held Ryan as if he was fragile porcelain. He picked up Ryan and retraced his previous footsteps to end up back at his house. “MOM!” Brendon let out a shaky cry out of terror.

“Brendon? What’s wrong honey?” His mother quickly rushed to the front door and gasped before being interrupted by Brendon.

“Help me to get Ryan to hospital please,” He said through his teeth whilst choking back tears.

“He’ll be okay honey, I promise. Now, go get in the car,” She quietly answered as she rushed to get her keys. Brendon buckles his seatbelt faster than ever as he props Ryan up against him. Mrs Urie didn’t say a word to him; it was clear he was very distraught about this whole situation. I mean, who wouldn't be?

Brendon wiped away his tears as they stepped into the Emergency Room. His mom rubbed his back as a source of comfort; he just hoped that Ryan would be okay. Brendon sucked in a deep breath before talking to the worker at the front desk.

“What seems to be the problem?” The worker asked in a caring tone.

“My friend has an abusive dad, he didn’t respond to my text for hours. So, I went to check up on him and found him with glass in his head and he was unconscious on his bathroom floor.” He sniffled as he awaited the response.

“Ok, your friend will be in to see a doctor in 5 minutes max,” They thanked them before sitting down. Brendon anxiously shook his knee up and down as he waited. Ryan was so precious to him. They’ve only known each other for a day, but Brendon still felt this overwhelming need to take care of him and be there for him.

After a five minute wait, the nurse asked for them. “Ryan Ross? Doctor Lockwood is ready for you.”

“I’ll wait here, good luck.” Brendon’s mom gave him a pat on the back. He carried Ryan to the doctor; then he was instructed to place him on a hospital bed. Before he could even blink, the doctors got straight to work as they stitched up his wound.

“Mister Urie,” Dr Lockwood began. “I would like to discuss Ryan’s injury with you,” Brendon sat with the doctor for 45 minutes and explained. Worry ran through his veins as he thought about Ryan. “Well, Ryan’s stitches should be finished, if you would like to go and see him!” Lockwood exclaimed whilst looking at his rusty watch.

Brendon nodded and rushed to go see his friend. “Hi Ryan, how are you holding up?” He quietly whispered.

“I’m good, what happened? I don’t remember much..” He sniffled and gave Brendon a half smile. He explained for a 3rd time what happened and after an hour Ryan got discharged.

They got back into their car and Brendon sat in the back, just in case anything happened. “Ryan,” Mrs Urie spoke up, “I don’t think you should go back to your house, at least not tonight. It really does not sound safe for you, also I’m sure Brendon wouldn’t mind a sleepover!”

“B-but my dad will be really mad if he finds out I left and I’m not there.” Tears slowly welled up in his eyes.

“Ryan, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. May I have your dad’s number? I’ll tell him you're staying at ours, then I will have to tell the police, okay?” Mrs Urie had her mind set on this, it was extremely wrong to do this to a kid. What a monster he must be. Ryan just leaned his head on Brendon’s shoulder, occasionally lifting his hand to wipe his tears away.

They silently unbuckled their seatbelts and made their way inside the house. Brendon led Ryan upstairs to the bathroom and got a spare toothbrush out for him.

“Uh Brendon, I don’t have any clothes to sleep in,” Immediately after, he went to get clothes for him. He grabbed shorts and a baggy hoodie. Ryan took the clothes from Brendon and muttered a small thanks.

“You can get changed in here, I’ll go to my room.” Giving him a little smile, he exited the room.

A few minutes later, Ryan was ready for bed. He stared confused at the floor; oh great, there’s only one bed. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor, Bren?” His heart fluttered at the thought of a nickname. Brendon blushed before clearing his throat.

“Oh no, I don’t mind you sleeping in my bed! It’s massive anyway,” He awkwardly chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. Ryan slowly crawled into bed next to Brendon. He clicked off the bedside light and snuggled down into his pillow. “Night Ry,” Ryan felt his cheeks heat up and glow red with the simple nickname. No one ever made him feel this way, what emotion even was this? He couldn’t quite figure it out; he copied Brendon’s previous movement and fell into a calm slumber.

The next morning, Ryan awoke with an extra warm sensation to one side of him. It seemed that Brendon had attached himself in his sleep. He wasn’t complaining, it was quite relaxing. He reached over to his phone on the oak table. His eyes squinted as the bright screen flashed violently. Brendon stirred in his sleep as Ryan took a few pictures on his phone. He could tell Brendon was waking up, his deep snoring stopped and he was constantly moving. Eventually he ended up with his head on Ryan’s chest, Brendon rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“Morning Ryan, sorry for kind of sleeping on you,” He let out a content sigh and grabbed a bottle of water. Ryan stretched out his long arms and sat up.

“It’s ok, I don’t mind,” He grinned and headed to brush his teeth. Brendon quickly did the same thing, after proposing the idea of pancakes. Ryan eagerly agreed as he leaped down the stairs.

They sat together on the couch with the white noise of the television buzzing in their ears. After they had finished their pancakes, they shared memes on their phone and had a normal chat. Brendon’s mom interrupted them with an idea. “Y’know you guys could go out today!” Ryan quickly accepted the idea with a cheerful nod. Brendon exchanged glances with him as they decided upon a final decision. “There’s lovely restaurants in the town centre, I’ll give you some money boys.”

“Oh, It’s okay Mrs Urie. You don’t have to give me any money; you’ve done more than enough by letting me stay here.”

“Don’t be silly,” She chucked, “having your company is lovely, I don’t mind giving you money!” Mrs Urie smiled as she handed Ryan $50.

“Let’s go get ready then!” Brendon grinned as he excitedly ran upstairs. “I’ve got some clothes you can wear,” He shouted. Ryan flinched at the loud shouting, growing up he always hated shouting, even before his dad started to abuse him. His dad would usually have screaming wars with his mom; no matter what, it would end in his mom crying and Ryan trying his best to comfort her. He was only young, he couldn't do much about it.

Twenty minutes had passed, they were both completely ready and went out. “Mom! We’re going now,” He yelled, waiting for his mother’s response.

“Okay, remember to be safe!” Mrs Urie scrambled to grab her phone as they left. She dialled the police’s number to tell them about Ryan’s dad. Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello ma'am, what are you calling us for?” They answered; she went on to explain about his situation (In extreme detail) for almost an hour straight.

“Thanks for your report, we’ll send the police around there now and hopefully remove any harmful substances from the house.”

“Thank you so much, goodbye.” With that being said, they hung up and presumably got to work.

Brendon and Ryan were in the town centre now; they walked the streets together, hands occasionally grazing each other. They eventually entered a small restaurant tucked in the corner of a street. Two lengthy hours sharing conversation and eating lunch.

Once they had finished their meals, Brendon had called the waiter over and paid for the food.

“How about we head to the restroom quickly and then go home?” He suggested with a small smile on his face as he admired Ryan. He replied with a mini nod and smiled back at him.

Brendon was washing his hands in the marble sink as Ryan stared at him. He grabbed a few paper towels, drying his hands off. Straight after, they left the restaurant, feeling content.

“That was a really good meal!” Ryan beamed but was abruptly cut off by a man in all black + a mask attack Brendon. He was put in a headlock and had a gun put to his head; it wasn’t a busy street and the restaurant windows were tinted. No one would see.

“GIVE ME YOUR MONEY!” The man barked. Brendon whimpered as he couldn’t reach his pockets and stared at Ryan for help. He proceeded to punch the man square in the face. He couldn’t stand to watch Brendon be hurt any longer.

“Fuck off; don’t ever threaten us again.” Ryan growled as he scrammed. Brendon had tears in his eyes, frozen in shock. He engulfed him in a hug, Brendon only responded by resting his head on Ryan’s shoulder.

He rubbed his back and sighed. They stayed like that for a good minute until Ryan cupped his cheeks and wiped his glistening tears away. Their eyes were locked onto each other as they breathed deeply. Brendon slowly leaned closer and just before he could pull away; Ryan’s lips collided with Brendon’s. It was a sweet caring kiss, nothing but care and affection.

A moment was spent with Brendon longingly looking into Ryan’s hazel eyes. Suddenly, Brendon pulls back and pushes him away, a new-found rage filling his pupils.

“Ryan, boys can’t love boys,” He said as he ran away, shouting at Ryan to not follow him.

The bus was due in 3 minutes.

Brendon ran like his life depended on it; his lungs felt as if they were collapsing. His feet were on fire, he finally reached the bus stop just as it arrived. The bus hissed as the air brakes were being used. The double doors swung open as Brendon eagerly ran inside and raced to the back of the bus.

His hands traced designs on the polyester fabric of the bus seats. Thoughts raced through his mind at a 1000mph. Brendon couldn’t get Ryan out of his head. Every thought or idea was centred around him.

Shit.

He didn’t like Ryan. He couldn’t! His mum simply would disown him, she’s the most religious person he’d ever met. She would NEVER let Brendon see Ryan again. But, did Brendon actually have feelings for him?

The way his stomach gets butterflies whenever he thinks of him. The way a light dusty blush brushes his cheeks whenever they touch. The way he admired every movement Ryan made.

Fuck. He wasn’t just simply in love. He was head over heels. He had to tell someone, it had to be Ryan.

His mind wandered, taking him back to a time where his mother had a strong point of view.

~ Flashback ~

“Brendon! Pay attention, young man,” His mother disciplined as he played with his shoe laces.

“Sorry,” He muttered, turning his attention to the boring pastor. The pastor was talking about being homosexual, he didn’t appear to have a very fond opinion of it. Brendon’s mom was so brainwashed by him, she fully believed his opinion on homosexuality was right. It wasn’t; everyone should be accepted for who they are.

In the end, her views were so extreme that homosexuality is the reason they moved. She’d found out that there was quite a few homosexual kids at his school and refused to stay there.

~ End of flashback ~

Brendon had come to a realisation, he was bisexual. Even though his current love interest was a man, he had felt sexual attraction to women as well.

The bus came to a halt. He rushed out of the musty bus and raced to his house. He needed to make things right, but first he needed to know Ryan was ok.

Swinging open the door, he shouted for his mother. “MOM!” He yelled in a frightened tone.

“What is wrong? Where’s Ryan?” Brendon felt a sickening sensation form in his stomach at the small mention of the boy.

Ryan sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, tears flew down his face as he thought of Brendon. How could he just ditch him like that? He thought that Brendon was there for him after the incident with his dad. Oh, that was another thing to sob about. His shitty father. Why did he have to end up like this? Ryan reminisced on all his memories with his mother, tears increasing their quantity.

He did know one thing that would make him feel better. He knew it wasn’t the best solution, but it would put a temporary stop to his emotion. Cutting himself, that's all he could think to do. The sky had dimmed, now being a dusky grey. Ryan shuffled down the alleyway and yanked the shiny, metal blade out of his pocket. His hands roamed to pull his sleeve up. A few cuts, that's all he needed. He couldn’t seem to stop.

Ruby blood pooled around him and darkness overcame him.

“Mom, I left Ryan in the town centre. We had a slight argument,” Brendon whimpered. He curled up into a ball on the floor and weeped. “Please, go get him,” He pleaded.

Mrs Urie nodded and responded in a soothing voice, “Ok dear, you go upstairs and calm yourself down!” She exited through the front door and started up her car. Brendon dragged his body upstairs and flopped onto his comforting bed, recollection of cuddling up to Ryan washes over him.

After a while, she arrived at her destination. She glanced around the restaurant, Ryan was nowhere to be seen. Un popping her pocket, she grabbed her phone out of her pocket.

To Brendon:

Hey, is (restaurant name) where you went? I can’t s-

Her typing was cut off by her view being attached to a boy in the alleyway. Hurriedly, she scrambled over to him, her heart felt as if it was in her throat. It was Ryan.

“Ryan,” she called out, “I’ve come to get you!”

No response. Dead silence. The blood glimmered in the dull street lights.

“Oh my…” She gasped. Mrs Urie picked up Ryan in her arms and ran as fast as she could to the car.

She frantically propped his body against the leather seats. Her hands rummaged in the back of the car for her first aid kit. A green bag was quickly opened, strings of bandages were pulled out.

Slowly, stretchy bandages were wrapped around Ryan’s wrist, she applied firm pressure as it soaked up his blood. His limp body was put into a more comfortable position, buckling up their seatbelts, she started the car.

Ryan stirred in his slumber, his eyes soon adjusted to the colourful street lights.

“Mrs Urie?” He earned a small gasp out of her mouth.

Shocked and stunned, she replied, “Yes Ryan?”

“Where are you taking me?” He said with his eyebrows knitted into a confused expression.

“Just back to my house,” She said with a friendly smile on her face. She pondered for a moment, then got the courage to express her thoughts. “What happened between you and Bren?”

Several tears were appearing in his eyes, just at the simple mention of the boy. Gosh, he really was in love. It was just a shame his gay realisation had to be so tragic.

Eventually, he spoke up, “Uh, I kissed Brendon,”

“YOU WHAT!” She screeched.

“I don’t even know! It just felt right at the time…” He trailed off.

“You and Brendon are seriously in for it when we arrive at home! And do not even THINK about texting him to warn him!” She scolded. Ryan sat silently for the rest of the ride; he wished the ground beneath him would open up and swallow him whole.

They arrived and to say Ryan was horrified was an understatement. His hands were shaking and his eyes were threatening to spill tears.

“BRENDON! GET HERE NOW!” She squawked. Brendon knew that he was in for it. By the tone of her voice, reminding him of his father, Ryan grew more anxious.

Thundering steps boomed down the staircase as Brendon came rushing down. His eyes bulged out of his head; as he looked at Ryan, a panicked expression spread across his face.

“What happened Ryan?” He blurted with a soft, worried voice.

“You! You don’t care about me,” Ryan yelled, emotion loud in his voice. Brendon stared at him in shock, he felt as if a piece of his heart shattered into a billion pieces.

“Ryan, listen to me!” He pleaded, but Ryan slammed the door and ran to their bathroom. Brendon thought that Ryan hated him; little did he know, Ryan was going through the exact same thought process.

Ryan curled up in the corner of the bathroom, tears didn’t just fall, they were crashing around him. He thought back on wanting the world to swallow him up; he realised he was just suppressing his feelings. Ryan was suicidal.

He balled his fist up and shoved them inside his denim jacket pockets. Something cold pressed against his knuckles.

The blade.

Resisting wasn’t an option, he was overcome with an extreme need. A need his mind said he must fulfil.

However, he found his wrist wasn’t enough this time. He needed more. More blood. More thrill.

More pain.

This urgency for more resulted in him slitting his throat. First, only starting off with small cuts, blood rushing to the surface, but not dribbling onto his skin. The emotion had gotten so intense, he began to cut deeper. Blood rushed down his neck, ruining his shirt and occasionally dripping onto his jacket.

Ryan had started to feel light-headed. He stumbled around the bathroom; fuck, how was he meant to hide this scar. Before even taking any protocols into consideration, he began to clean up. Brendon didn’t have anything to clean cuts with. Of course he didn’t, what was Ryan thinking?

Carefully, his freezing hands pressed the paper towel against his neck. Sucking in a breath - caused by the pain - as it began to sting.

Why didn’t his attempt work? All he wanted was to be gone, he’d thought there was nothing else left for him on Earth. He might as well just die. He thought he was pathetic, that's what drove his passion for pain.

A knock came from the old, creaky door.

“Ryan,” Brendon said firmly. Ryan’s heart leapt out of his chest, he couldn’t face Brendon, at least not now. Quickly, he wiped his teardrops away and tried to steady his voice.

“Yes?” Ryan said, his voice slightly shaky from previous events.

“Come out, please…” His tone was hopeful; all he wanted was for Ryan to come out of the bathroom.

Ryan choked back his tears as he examined his neck in the mirror. “I can’t,” Ryan thought carefully about his response, but nothing was a good enough reason.

“I promise I don’t hate you…” Brendons voice trailed off before he continued. “I actually have some, uh, complicated feelings. I'd like to talk to you about it. But only if it’s alright with you!” He took a huge gulp, awaiting the other boy's reply.

No reply was made. Ryan lowered his head into his knees; he’d never been this bad. He let everything get to him, every comment, every action and most importantly everything. Some things (or people) are better off being shut out.

“I’m coming in Ryan; I can tell you're not okay,” Brendon waited for any final reponses. Finally, he turned the door knob with his hand.

He was speechless, bloody tissues and more cuts on his wrist. But, he hadn’t seen the worst of it yet. Brendon sat opposite Ryan.

He rubbed Ryan’s shoulder comfortingly. He was waiting for some form of eye contact; looking to find meaning and emotion in his eyes. Any form of communication would work, a sign even!

Ryan pricked his head up. Brendons breathing faltered as he saw his neck. Hundreds of thoughts ran through both their minds.

Suddenly, a harsh slap was delivered to Brendon from Ryan. It was all too overwhelming for him. His brain was shutting down and he wasn’t thinking straight.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” Ryan raised his voice.

“FOR FUCKS SAKE! RYAN, I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU!” Brendon felt his eyes rapidly well up.

“Well. Maybe I don’t want your help!” He said, quite a bit quieter this time.

“Clearly, you need someone's help! You can’t go a single fucking day without cutting yourself,” He muttered, Brendon was extremely pissed off by now. He had never been in a situation like this; all he yearned to do was help. Help the special person in his life.

Brendon realised that he shouldn’t have said that, he could’ve just ruined their (complicated) relationship completely. He seemed to snap out of his thoughts when Ryan was sobbing.

Brendon did that. He realised he made Ryan this sad.

“I’m so sorry Ryan, I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t mean it,” He apologised, Ryan meant so much to him. How could he do that to him?

“Go away,” Ryan sniffled. “I hate you,” He wept. Brendon knew he didn’t actually mean it. Even Ryan knew he didn’t mean it. Ryan had also come to the realisation that he did in fact need help.

Brendon stayed sat opposite him. He was lost for words; he had no idea what to do. He stayed silent, wishing that Ryan would say something first.

Fortunately, his wish came true. Ryan finally spoke up after what felt like an hour of silence - in reality it was less than a minute.

“Bren,” His cheeks dusted a pink shade at the pet name. “I need help,” He said and took a gulp of courage.

Brendon took Ryan’s hand in his hand. “Y’know I’d get you any help you needed,” He told him, maintaining a calm eye contact.

“All I need is you,” Ryan sighed softly; finding a sudden surge of confidence. Their eyes were like gravitational pulls towards each other; not leaving their view.

Brendon pulled Ryan into a deep, passionate kiss. Breath slightly shaky as their lips parted.

“When I left, I realised that I’m in love with you…” Brendon blurted. His cheeks burned a bright pink hue.

“I guess it’s true,” Ryan snickered, the other boy just stared, confused.

“What?” He questioned, trying to think of the answer, mind blanking.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,”

—

A/N That is the end of this oneshot! Hope you enjoyed it! Fun fact: this was based off of something I wrote in class :p

#ryan ross #panic! at the disco #pre split panic #pre split patd #patd #ryan patd #brendon urie #beebo #ryro #brendon patd #angst with a happy ending #light angst #fluff #fiction #writers on tumblr #wattpad #fanfic #fanfiction

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 4 months

Text

I was driving today and panic at the disco was playing. Now all I can think of is Eddie singing those songs 🤭

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson singing #eddie munson vocals #driving #panic at the disco

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sunraies · 10 months

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Rafe x Sleepy! Reader where he freaks out that she’s not answering her Phone and thinks The worst scenario that she’s sick of him, cheating etc. But It gets better when she calls him while he’s with The boys and she’s in her pj’s telling him she just woke up and asking what happened that made him call so many times 🥹

Sleepy baby

As requested above

Warnings - insecurities, toxic thoughts, drug use, drinking, and mentions of sex. Ending fluff.

*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*

16 hours ago, you posted to your insta story. 16 hours since you'd been laughing, smiling, singing, and dancing into the camera. Music pumping and disco lights blazing as you partied into the night.

You looked so happy, surrounded by your college friends. Some he knew, and some he didn't. He wished he could have been there with you. Long distance was slowly killing him, he was sure of it.

Although he'd been uneasy about you going so far away, things had been working out. He visited as often as he could, and you came home for the holidays. But it was moments like this when he started to doubt it all. His mind would spiral.

At first, he thought there was a reasonable explanation for you not texting him when you made it home and for not responding to his messages. You were probably to tired and drunk, simply forgotten.

But as the hours ticked by and multiple messages and phone calls later, his mind began to wander to darker places. You didn't need him anymore. You had finally realised it. You had found someone else. Someone else had found you.

You were a college student, you didn't need some hometown boyfriend dragging you down, you had finally decided to live your best life. Without him. Party, sex and drugs.

Well, two could play at that game. The moment Topper had told him about a party happening, he immediately said he would go. Fuck it, he was still the Kook King, he knew how to party, how to have any person he wanted.

The problem was that you were the only person he wanted. After a few drinks, he found himself where he normally ended up at parties. Sat with his boys, Topper, Kelce, and Barry, nursing a beer, smoking a blunt, doing a few lines, and glazing into the fire pit as the sky of endless stars shone above them.

"Bro, that's like the billionth time you checked your phone." Topper pointed out as Rafe pulled his phone out of his shorts pocket again.

"What's up, Little Miss Havard ghosting you?" Barry teased as he through arm an over Rafe's shoulders.

"Fuck off" Rafe tried to shake his arm off before sighing as looked at his phone again.

All that stared back at him was you as his lock screen and a couple of notifications, but none from you.

"Oh, shit. You really think she is?" Barry's smirk dropped, suddenly noticing his friend genuinely down about something.

"She's probably just busy," Kelce tried to reassure him. "You know with essays and shit. I mean, I have a shit ton, and that's just online"

Out of everyone in their little friend circle, you were the only one who moved the furthest away. Topper was on a gap year, Kelce was doing online courses, Barry was dealing, and Rafe had to follow in Ward's footsteps. A few of your friends did gap years.

Rafe nodded slowly. "What if, what if she's do -" He didn't finish his sentence as his phone screen suddenly lit up. 'FACETIME - Baby 😍 💍'

He nearly dropped his phone in the panic of answering it. For a spilt second, he thought about letting it ring out of spite. You'd not answered any of his. But he couldn't do it, for all the spiralling his mind had been doing. He needed to talk to you.

"Rafe, hey, you ok?" You looked so sleepy as you rubbed your eye. "I'm so sorry, I've been asleep all day"

If he could have jumped into the screen and kissed you in that moment, he would have. You looked so adorable, hair in a mess, no makeup, clearly sat in your dorm room bed as he recognised the bed sheets and the tapestry on the wall behind you.

What made his heart warm the most was that you were in one of his t-shirts. One of many you had borrowed/stolen.

He knew he was smiling at his screen like a complete goof. But he didn't care.

"Where are you?" You asked, trying to work out the noises around him and odd lighting of the fire pit. "Why did you call so much? Everything ok?" You asked, concerned.

"Everything's good, baby," He smiled. "Just at a party with the boys." He turned the phone around to show them

"God, Rafe, no don-" Too late, there you was in all you sleepiness. Proudly held up on his phone screen.

"Mrs Country Club!" Barry greeted as the others said "yo" and "hey"

You awkwardly waved and smiled as your cheeks burned before Rafe turned the phone back him.

"Well, I better not keep you from the party. As long as everything is ok?" You could tell something wasn't quite right, but didn't push it. He'd tell you in his own time. He always did.

"Everything is fine, my sleepy baby." He smiled, not giving a shit if the others heard.

"Alright, see you this weekend? Facetime tomorrow?" You smiled as he nodded before saying I love yous.

"Aww, my sleepy baby. Sleepy bab-" Barry teased before Rafe pushed him. Causing his chair to topple backwards onto the grass. Making everyone who witnessed laugh.

He glanced at his phone one last time, seeing you smiling face on his lock screen and new message 'Baby 😍💍 - I really do love you ❤️😘'

#rafe cameron #outer banks rafe #outerbanks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron fic

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peachesofteal · 9 months

Text

Dead Disco / Chapter 7

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Brief suggestive content. Angst, anxiety, self loathing, relationship issues. Darling is her own tag/warning. Panic attack, eating related issues, fainting. Emotional hurt/comfort, fluff. Established throuple. It's better when they're here.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Kyle grins in response, and then pulls you in for a hug. His face is full mirth, his cheer warming you from the inside, and you embrace him in return.

“’bout time they bring you out here. No reason to hide you away all this time.” Something nervous, a light giggle, slips out from between your lips, your eyes rolling in an exaggerated fashion. Johnny's hand flexes against the base of your spine.

“Gaz.” Simon sighs, and he barks out a laugh before turning back to you.

“Try not to let these two bore ya to death.” He whispers, before giving them both a nod and ducking down the hall. He makes absolutely no noise, feet silent against the floor, practically disappearing before your eyes, shadow here then gone, presence felt, and then void, all at once.

“He’s nice.” You look up at the two of them. Johnny chuckles, amusement scrawling across his lips and cheeks as he wraps his arm around your waist.

“Don’t let him fool ye.” He quips and you frown, confused.

“Gaz is… very, very good at his job. One of the best there is, I’d say.” Simon explains gently, and then your stomach sours, because you remember.

What they do. What their jobs are. Why you’re even here in the first place. You’ve never asked for in-depth detail or explanations, but you’ve heard enough, know enough, to know.

He turns the lock and pushes their door open, giving you a view into their room, a short hall that expands out to something that looks like a college dorm, except maybe a bit bigger. It’s got all the similarities though, cinderblocks and an old, tiled floor, singular window and a bit of an odd smell.

“So, this is your room?”

“Aye. We’ve got a big bed, mostly thanks to Si, and a little more space than everyone else on this floor but, this is it.” It’s sparse too, no pictures or personal items, nothing that looks like or resembles them except…

There’s a bulletin board, hanging on the wall above the bed. It’s empty, save for one thing, a photo that’s been stapled to the cork.

It’s of you, this photo, you under a white sheet, smiling at Simon, who’s behind the camera, with just the shadow of Johnny’s hand along your upper arm. It was taken last year, you can tell, because you recognize the style of your hair from that time, and you stand there for too long, staring at it, mouth partially hanging open, breath held in your lungs.

Nothing in this room that reflects them, or their home, or each other… nothing. Except for a photo of you.

“Darling?” Simon murmurs, and his chest presses against your back, thumb and forefinger stroking along the back of your neck. “You alright?”

“Y-yeah. I… I’m alright.”

“So, like… what is that you guys do?” The question lands to a silent reception, both of them exchanging looks in front of you, almost like you’re not even in the room. You feel awkward, and self-conscious, while they seem to have a silent debate with their eyes.

“We’re in multi-national special ops unit.” Johnny provides, and your eyebrows crease as you process. A what? A multi-national what? You laugh, until you realize their faces are deadly serious.

Wait. Are these guys in the fucking military?

“Special ops, like… the military special ops?”

“Kind of.”

Oh.

Fuck. Your cheeks feel hot, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the alcohol or the topic you’ve stumbled upon, but you swallow loudly as you process it.

You’re not exactly a huge fan of the military. Not like you really know anything about it, just that most of the wars your own country has been involved in for the last twenty years revolve around oil and imperialism, and all the dudes who serve are abusive and predatory. Assholes. Creeps.

Or at least, that’s what it’s like where you’re from.

“She didn’t like that.” Simon murmurs from behind the mask, and Johnny grimaces.

“Alright?” He hums and a small noise gets stuck in your throat, like you want to say yes, want to say no, like you’re not sure what you want. “We travel a lot, for work. So, we’re not always around… that’s where we’ve been the last few weeks. Working.” The words make your heart skip a beat, and you nod, still processing.

Not always around… not always around.

So they really aren’t planning on making this a thing, then. The thought stings with bitterness against your tongue, and you shove it away.

When you don’t say anything in response, Johnny sighs, and reaches for your hand, fingers curled against your palm in your lap. “How did we get on this subject anyway? We’re supposed to be havin’ some fun.” He smiles, big and warm, sending butterflies spiraling through your stomach and up your spine.

Simon’s gaze never strays from your face, and his brow furrows, like he’s reading you, or piecing you together. The scrutiny makes you shiver.

Why are you worrying about it? This is only like the third time seeing them, anyway. You’re getting too attached. You’re getting ahead of yourself. You’re just having fun. That’s all it is.

“Right.” You quip, and then pull your drink towards you before rising from the chair. Your skirt is short, and you realize it’s probably too short when you see Simon’s jaw grinding behind the mask as you turn your body, edge of the fabric brushing against the back of your thighs. His gaze is heavy, it’s hot, and you remember the image of him looking up from between your legs the other night, lower half of his face buried in your cunt, still hidden from view without the scrap of fabric. “So… should we get another round then?” You hold your empty drink, ice clinking against the glass, and Johnny chuckles before standing in front of you, a hand on covetously laying on your waist as his lips brush your cheek.

“’ll get them, love. You sit.”

The bed is very, very warm. You don’t even need the duvet and sheet that you have pulled around your shoulders, your hips, but you snuggle down into them farther, breathing in the scent of Johnny’s shampoo, of Simon’s skin.

It all whirs around you in some soft, soothing scented lullaby, and you allow yourself the indulgence, closing your eyes again even though you’ve only just woken from the nap that you slipped into when they left for a meeting.

You’ve managed to trap their body heat beneath the blankets, and you wiggle around until you’re facing the other side, staring at the bulletin board, your own face frozen in time staring back at you.

You look different. You look like you’re in a haze of contented bliss, a peaceful state of happiness, safe and secure, tucked between the two of them without a care in the world.

Why did it change? Who changed it? When? How?

The questions echo as you piece through the last few months in your mind, trying to place where the original seeds of darkness sprouted from, to find where the murky thoughts and feelings really came from, their roots, their birth.

This process, this seeking, makes your hands shake against the sheets. It makes your legs twitch, feet rubbing against each other while your chest tightens. Dread, panic, shame, all twist and turn through your mind, pinpointing your weaknesses and failures, exposing you to yourself like the fool you are.

They’re trying. Are you?

You don’t need the answers, not truly. You know where the blame lies. You know what happened. You know the part you played; you know the parts the guys played.

You stare at the wall and try to count the patterns in the concrete, willing your brain to focus, willing yourself to pull up, pull out, put your head on straight. The sound of blood rushing in your ears is deafening, loud enough that you think someone may hear it down the hall. May hear you, succumbing to yourself.

It feels like drowning.

They could pull you out. Simon could fix it. They could make it better.

But would they? Could he, now? When nothing is the same?

The memory from leaving the hotel ripples across your heart like a familiar melody, acid burning in your calves as you blink and shudder.

Simon, holding your nape, Johnny, holding you to him in the elevator, in the car.

“Stay with us darling. Stay here. With us.”

You wonder if it will ever be the same again.

You hate this one as much as the last.

Your mouth pulls into a frown, hands resting on your hips as you stare at the canvas in front of you, rotating your head from left to right, like that will make you see it better. Like that will bring it into focus.

The colors are wrong. They don’t harmonize, they don’t crest and swell together like you had envisioned. They don’t blend in a cacophony of floral silhouettes like you saw in your mind.

Instead, they look like a storming sea. Darker hues overpowering the light, like thunder through daybreak.

Maybe you could fix it? Or maybe, you should just abandon this technique. Maybe you could-

There’s a knock at your door.

It’s not light, or gentle, but firm, ringing out in rapid succession and you jerk.

Who could that be? You’re not expecting anyone until-

Oh. Oh no. Oh god. Oh no, no no.

Your eyes dart frantically around the art room before you're shoving the two brushes from your hands into a tray and tripping out into your living room.

“Oh my god.” You gulp out loud to no one but yourself, the person who has spent the last three, possibly four days in a haze, a painting binge, trying to escape the stress of your job, of life, of this… thing that’s going on with Simon and Johnny.

Trying to escape yourself. Your thoughts. Your feelings.

Your flat expresses it well. You think, possibly, it could appear like it had been ransacked. Your clothes are everywhere. Draped over your tiny loveseat couch, shoved between cushions and pillows. Two-day old toast sits on your kitchen counter, accompanying two, three, four coffee mugs that are filled with varying levels of liquid. Your uneaten dinner from last night sits on a plate next to the trash can, your oats from the other morning sit cold in the sink.

A prescription bottle that hasn’t been touched in four days, lurks on the kitchen counter with a handwritten note taped beneath it:

“You HAVE to, or you’ll regret it.”

Another knock sounds at your door, thumping followed by the sound of your phone vibrating next to the stove.

Your left sock has a swipe of chartreuse across it. Your overalls are tacky with dried paint. You can vaguely feel your hands touching your hair, your neck, hovering above where your heart hammers.

You can’t let them see you like this.

They’ve never seen you like this.

This is supposed to be light. It’s fun. It’s… not real. They’re not with you. They cannot see.

You take a deep breath.

Maybe you can pass it off. You can… say you’re sorry for the mess, that you’re sorting through things for donation. And you don’t have to lie about painting. That will explain the clothes.

You take a breath, and then open the door to find Johnny on the other side, happily smiling at you, mohawk shining in the light of the hall. He looks you up and down briefly, and you freeze, waiting.

Waiting for him to say something nasty, something hurtful. Waiting for him to reprimand you for failing, to accuse you of being useless, helpless. Waiting for him to tell you he doesn’t have time to deal with this. That you should be better, do a better job of taking care of yourself.

“- and he’ll just be a minute, but we’re so excited, been thinkin’ about ye all week. We had such a good time before we left, really loved sharing those days with you.” What? You blink. He cocks his head. “Love? Y’alright?”

“Yeah.” You answer, voice monotone. Somewhere, trapped beneath layers and layers of the worst pieces, you’re screaming. You’re aching. You’re desperate.

“This all paint?” He motions to the splatters and stains, and you nod robotically. “I remember, you mentioned that last time… that you paint. I uh, draw sometimes.” Of course, he draws. Because he’s beautiful, and perfect. He rubs his neck almost sheepishly before raising an eyebrow at you.

Oh. Right.

“D-do you… want to come in?” You offer it meekly. Please say no. say no, say you’ll wait out in there, say you don’t want to.

“Sure, thanks.” Fuck. He steps by you as you motion, brushing against you closely, close enough that the butterflies flutter and you can feel the heat of him. “This is cozy, yeah?” He gestures to your flat from the kitchen, and you nod again. On autopilot.

All you can see is the food, untouched, uneaten. Evidence of your struggle. A water bottle that’s full to brim. The coffee cups, that you couldn’t even bring yourself to wash. All you can feel is your own skin, dry around your mouth, your nose, and oily everywhere else, your dirty clothes heavy against your body. You can feel your teeth, your tongue, unbrushed, unclean in your mouth, jaw clicking while your grind your molars.

You shouldn’t have let him in. He’s going to see. He’s going to hate you. Hate this.

The room spins.

“Hey,” There’s a hand, on your arm. It’s big and soft, and sweet and you blink again. “Darling.” There it is. That pet name. That nick name. That name that’s quickly becoming your own. The one that makes you feel warm, safe, cherished. The one that makes you feel like this is something more.

You hate it.

You love it.

“What is it?” Johnny’s handsome face peers down at you, concern worrying across his brow.

“N-nothing.” You try to lead him off, but your breathing stutters through your nose, and he looks alarmed.

There’s a new knock at your door, heavy and quick, and you both turn to look just as Simon is filling the door frame, half of his face hidden with the black mask that he always wears.

He watches you. Like a predator. His eyes flick from you, to Johnny, to the kitchen… the living room.

It's like there’s a train sitting on your chest.

“Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” He says softly, clicking the door shut behind him. As soon as it’s secure, the mask comes off, and he’s focused on you, eyes not leaving your face, moving closer and closer until he’s upon you and Johnny, huge hand coming to hold your elbow. “What’s going on?” He murmurs, but it’s not for you. Even if it was, you cannot answer. There’s a train sitting on your chest, after all.

“Ah dinnae ken.” Johnny answers immediately, while his palm works up and down your arm in a calming pattern.

“Darling?” Simon cups your cheek. Ever since he showed you his face, he’s been… like this. Intuitive. Too intuitive. Too keen. Like he already knows. Like he’s been waiting.

“I-“ you try to tell him it’s nothing. That you’re tired. All of your lies flit through your head, the stories you wanted to concoct to explain everything away but nothing comes out. Not even your breath.

The room spins again, but this time so does your head. The floor feels like it’s tilting, or maybe it’s your feet that are off balance. You’re not sure. You feel light though, like your legs don’t even exist. Like your knees aren’t real.

“Shite.” Johnny swears, and lunges, hands darting out to catch you before the world goes black.

“Are you asleep?” There’s a whisper, like a soft touch, against your ear. It’s enough to prickle, enough to crack a smile across your lips, and you press your face into the blankets while strong hands shift your hips.

“I dinnae, might be.” Johnny hums, stroking fingertips down your ribs. It tickles, forcing a breathy giggle from your mouth that’s met with another’s, lips moving with yours while you melt away in a pile of partners and pillows.

“How was the meeting?” You whisper. Simon cradles you to his back, warmth bleeding through his shirt to your skin, and you shimmy closer, pressing hard until you’re flush with him, Johnny watching the two of you with heavy lidded eyes.

“Standard.” Simon answers. “Thought about you the whole time.” He kisses your cheek, arm reaching for Johnny who obliges, nestling himself against your chest. You focus on them, taking long, deep breaths, keeping yourself above water, keeping the murky depths at bay, for now.

It’s better, when they’re here. It’s always better, when you’re together.

“Thinkin’ about ye asleep in our bed, bare cunt on our sheets enough to drive me mad.” Johnny groans, fingers skating across your hip bone. You’re not wearing underwear, just a giant sweatshirt, one of theirs, though you’re not sure who’s.

Lust roars to life between your legs, desire, want, has you clenching, but you try shove it away.

It’s too much, too soon. You’re too… off center. You’ll lose yourself.

But they’re here. They’ll put you back together. Simon won’t let you fall.

It’s not a good idea.

You want it. You want them. Need them.

The back and forth makes your head hurt.

“I- I’m not ready.” You blurt, and he freezes, pulling his hand free immediately but you grab onto it, desperate to have his touch, to feel him.

Guilt burns in your heart.

“Of course, darling.”

“I’m sorry… I want to I just-“

“You never have to apologize.” Simon rumbles and you shake your head.

“I know but, I feel bad. Guilty.”

“Look at me.” He urges, and you shift, all while clutching Johnny’s hand in yours. “We love you. There is nothing for you to feel guilty about. We will be here when you are ready, but there’s no rush.” He strokes a thumb across your cheek, and you lean into it, eyes slipping closed. “I think I’d be more worried if you were ready to jump right into sex, after everything.” Johnny hums his agreement and presses a warm kiss to your shoulder.

“Let’s take a nap then?” He suggests, and you pull his arm to your chest, rocking between the two of them until you’re effectively sandwiched, comfortable, and secure, just the way you like it.

The way you dream about it.

The way you can only hope it might be, from now until forever.

#peaches writes #dead disco #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader x ghost #soap x ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley

763 notes · View notes

wonwayne · 5 months

Text

whatever you say ☁️ park jongseong

pairing : bf!jay x fem!reader genre : tooth-rotting fluff warnings : none! word count : 0.85k

a/n : i don't really know what this is. but it's cute. (just HAD to write on this thought [creds to @atrirose] because husband material jay !!)

home. nothing felt better than coming back from an achingly long work day to the smell of you. closing the door softly behind him, jay let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. comfort always seemed to creep up on him like this, with subtle reminders in the air that you would always be there for him, ready to—

“help me build the titanic?”

you beamed up at your boyfriend, legs crossed on the living room carpet, encircled by seemingly infinite lego pieces in red, white, yellow, and black.

not quite what jay was expecting to come home to. but he approached your little recreation ground anyway, lunging carefully towards the box packaging. “another 2000+ piece lego set?”

“9000!”

“oh—”

“9090, to be exact.”

jay nodded, kneeling down by the carpet to match your eye level. “... that’s really—”

“wait no, 9092! sorry i keep correcting myself, it’s just that i forgot to add the jack and rose minifigures.” you pointed proudly at the thumb-sized people. “once i’m done with the ship, i’m going to have them at the bow like that iconic scene. and then maybe every few days i’ll move them to the floor and put rose on a little door.” you held lego jack up to your boyfriend’s face. “you look just like him.”

he glanced to the side before mirroring its boxy grin. “do i?” you nodded vigorously. “well that’s very flattering, y/n, but i should say,” and he looked emphatically at the heap of legos strewn between him and you, “you’re making it very hard for me to hug you. any closer, and i’m bound to step on a lego here.”

your expression morphed instantly from disquiet to delight. god, you could never get over how adorable he was when he said the sweetest things in the sternest voice. “i’m sorry!” you burst out, sweeping the pieces to the side and jumping into your boyfriend’s arms. “i’ll be right at the door to hug you next time.”

“thank you, love,” he murmured as he kissed the top of your head, “keep working, i’ll make dinner and help build as soon as i can.”

even more adorable, you thought, for calling your lego-building “work.”

tragically, jay found you breaking your promise just a few evenings following. anticipating your pretty face peeking out of the doorway, he practically raced out of the apartment elevator. but instead of anything to look for, he was met by faint screams and hearty laughs — your laugh among them, and panic consumed him. who would she be laughing with in OUR apartment besides me? why the screams?? what if she’s—

bursting the door open, he was yet again unable to make sense of… you. you, belting taylor swift at the top of your lungs, dappled with rainbow light under the mini disco ball you’d set up in the far corner, mid-cartwheel with a wireless mic in one hand, dangerously close to crashing into both your partners in crime, jake and sunghoon.

they steered clear of you swiftly before freezing at the sight of a narrow-eyed jay.

“uh, y/n,” sunghoon began (poor boy), “i think—”

“—BUT THIS LOVE IS BRAVE AND WIIIIIIIILLLLLDDDDDD,” you persisted, thoroughly unaware of your boyfriend’s presence, and nearly assaulting the sofa as you landed from the cartwheel.

it took you till the end of the song’s bridge to notice your friends’ conspicuous silence. following their uneasy gaze, you saw jay maintaining the hardest poker face you’d ever seen him wear before.

but forget the “oh hi”s, skip the “let me explain”s — you glided over to where jay stood by the entrance and, offering the mic to him, sang quietly: “and i neverrrrrr saw you comiiiiiiiiiiing.” you sounded impossibly good.

“you should’ve,” he said, voice low, and with the hint of a pout, “seen me coming.” at a louder volume, he addressed the boys while his arms wrapped around your waist, “why do i have to come home to these two losers making a mess on a respectable thursday evening?”

jake opened his mouth to protest, but jay’s attention was already back to you. “you invited them?” he asked casually, pulling you closer in.

“i was getting bored without you,” and it was your time to pout, “had to unwind somehow.” you conveniently left out the detail that you had organized the whole “mess” in the house, and that the other two had played absolutely no part.

“with karaoke at the ungodly hour?”

“well, only because you arrived at an ungodly hour.”

he paused for a moment, then conceded, “right. of course, love, i’m sorry.”

you missed jake’s priceless expression as he made eye contact with jay across the room.

“P A R T N E R P R I V I L E G E,” he mouthed as aggressively as he could.

jay scoffed, and buried his chin deeper into the crook of your neck.

the only privilege, he would tell the boys later, was that of him having you in his life.

375 notes · View notes

her-power · 6 months

Text

The End of All Things (e.m. x fem reader)

C/W: 18++++ MDNI, I'm serious! Sweet! Eddie, smut, fluff, fingering (f receiving) oral (f+m receiving) unprotected p in v (don't be silly, wrap your willy!) making out, swearing, grief, hurt/comfort, parentloss, death, talk of death, best friends in love summary: This takes place 5 years after the events of S4. Midsummer 1991. Eddie & reader are in their mid twenties. Eddie is your best friend and has come to you after an unimaginable loss you just endured. You realize your feelings for him during this time, and sweetness and sexiness ensues. I originally was going for a subtle smutty-ness, but I got carried away, whoooops. (I suck at summaries, I'm so sorry)

A/N: This is based off of a life changing event that happened to me when I was seventeen. A lot of it has actual conversations/reactions from said event. This was insanely therapeutic for me to write, and I thank you all for reading this if you do, this goes out to all the ones who suffered a loss and are still actively healing. I see you, you are a rockstar and keep going <3 I also pay a little homage to Matthew Perry/Chandler Bing. I'm still not over it and Chandler will always be my comfort character like Eddie. This may have multiple parts, I also semi-proofread this, sorry for any mistakes! The title is a Panic! At the Disco song, it's been on repeat for awhile for me and I think it's perfect for this so definitely take a listen to it after you read this.

Word Count: 7.5k

“She’s gone.”

Your breath hitches as you stare at the wide amber eyes of your father from where you sat on the couch. He was clasping your hands tight as you stared at him. Your throat tightens.

“You’re lying.” A smirk tugs at your lips, this was a joke. The second those words left your lips you felt something cold creep up your spine, turning your stomach into knots.

“Honey, I’m not. She’s gone, she—”

You stand up fast, ripping your hands out of his. Your bottom lip trembles as you feel your tears burn the corners of your eyes.

“You’re lying!” You yell at him. “Where’s Mom?! Where is she?! You’re lying!”

Your father drops his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs. You knew he wasn’t lying; you knew it. It didn’t mean you had to believe it.

She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t dead. Wasn’t. Dead. She’s dead.

Those words swirl in your mind as you quietly groan. Your fingers clench at the hem of your black camisole, pulling and tugging at the thin material, feeling too hot, too tight.

“N-no…” You whimper, your vision blurring as you stare at your distraught father.

Your very core burns, it stings, and you couldn’t tell if you had a heartbeat. Is that what she felt? You wonder. Hunching forward, the pain in your chest was building and building as you loudly gasp.

“Nooooooooo!” You wail loudly. You find yourself pumping your legs towards somewhere, anywhere. An escape.

The door.

You swallow back bile as you push your front door open with your shoulder, you awkwardly stumble down the front steps, and the cool midsummer air caresses your face as your feet hit the paved driveway. You gasp again, gripping at your chest, and then you scream.

You didn’t know you could make a sound like that. A sound that was full of pain, full of anger, full of a feeling of invisible hands squeezing your heart until it bursts in your chest. Your scream echoes through the quiet neighborhood; you inhale another shaky breath, nails clawing at your stomach as you wail again.

A dog barks in the distance, a porch light turns on, then another. You swear you just heard someone say your name. You lift your head to the sky; the stars were so visible and beautiful that night, looking like small freckles kissing the dark sky. Your legs tremble beneath you, they’re numb, and you feel them start to buckle-

Strong arms grab you from behind, wrapping protectively around your middle; hot breath hits the back of your neck. Cool metal from ringed fingers touches your skin, hugging your arms to your chest as you let out another heartbreaking wail.

“It’s me, it’s me, sweetheart."

Eddie. Your best friend since you moved to this shitty town ten years ago. Your sweet, chaotic, beautiful Eddie. Your legs finally give out and he gently cradles your back against his chest, resting his forehead against your bare shoulders, feeling the roughness of hard pavement as your bum hits the ground. Your head leans back against his shoulder, his curly hair tickling your cheek ever so softly.

“H-how…” You try to form words; they were caught in your throat; you weren’t even sure if you had a voice anymore.

You wanted to ask how he got to you so fast, and if he could hear you all the way from his trailer a mile away. You’re practically sitting in his lap; his calloused fingers gently smooth out your mess of waves in your hair. Your vision blurred with hot tears as you could feel the Earth shattering beneath you. His hands find your face, his fingers cup behind your ear as he turns your face to his gently. Only the soft light from the front porch light illuminated his handsome features. Eddie. Your Eddie. His big brown eyes are wide as he stares at you, he looks terrified. He has never seen you this way before. You called him a few hours ago in the afternoon to tell him your mom had to go to the hospital for an emergency surgery, that you had to stay home to wait by the phone for updates from your father and you would promise to call him when you knew more. You were supposed to go to his place to smoke some weed and order pizza, a traditional Thursday night thing for you both. You figured he probably wondered what was taking so long, it had been hours. And for as long as you have known Eddie Munson, he didn’t have much patience; it was hard for him to sit still. Your fingers twirl the ends of his hair as you try to focus on him.

“Tell me.” He says quietly.

You can already see tears forming in his eyes, and you suddenly realize this is the closest you’ve ever been to him. Your noses were almost touching. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head from side to side, spitting and blubbering out more tears as the pain tightens its grip on your heart once more.

“I can’t.” You manage to gasp out. “Don’t…Eds, don’t make me say it.”

His hand cups over his mouth as he stares at you, realization settling on his face.

“No…” He inhales sharply. “No, Y/N…there’s no way.”

A memory flashes in your mind just then, a memory from only a few months ago.

You sat on the counter in the kitchen with your mom and Eddie as she made dinner. She was making his favorite chicken parmesan because it had been the five-year anniversary since he was no longer a suspect of those murders that had occurred that Spring. Your parents never believed he had anything to do with it, and it was your mother standing up for him at the town meeting that really helped his case, partially because the entire town was afraid of a hard-headed strong woman who grew up in South Boston, Massachusetts and also there was no evidence at any of the scenes of his involvement, or that he was a Satan worshipper. The other kicker was that Jason had disappeared, and everyone just assumed he did it after that. However, it didn’t stop the town from calling the cops every time they saw him walking somewhere or blasting Metallica from his speakers in his trailer. When your mom had her back turned, he attempted to stick his finger in the boiling pot of homemade meat sauce. Your mother wasn’t stupid, you swore she had eyes on the back of her head. She poked him in the side with the ladle handle, causing him to yelp.

“Come on! Just one taste! I promise I won’t ask for anymore until it’s ready. I’m STARVING.” Eddie pleaded, giving her a pathetic puppy dog look.

“Kid, get out of my kitchen. I’m not falling for that look again, I got stuck with you for ten years!” Your mother chuckles, stirring the sauce.

“You got stuck with a very handsome, talented, super funny son you always wanted! Did I mention handsome?” He towers over her and had sweetly rested his head on her shoulder, giving her a goofy grin. Your mother used the palm of her hand to push his face away and laughs.

“It’s my caring daughter’s fault for LITERALLY dragging you out of the mud that summer.”

Eddie looks at you, his smile reaching his eyes. “Yeah, your daughter is pretty awesome.”

He winks at you, and you roll your eyes, trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Don’t kiss my ass, Munson.” Your mom laughs. “I’m sending you home a plate for your uncle, and you better give it to him this time!"

“He politely declined!”

“No he didn’t, you ate it on the way there!” You banter back at him. He whips his head around to look at you, his face falling in mock betrayal.

“You are not my best friend anymore!” He wraps an arm around your mom’s shoulders and kisses the top of her head. “She’s my best friend now!”

You roll your eyes and laugh, hopping off the counter and making your way back to your room, but not before hearing your mother say this to Eddie:

"Everyone is out of their damn mind for not getting to know you or love you like we do. Jokes aside, honey, I can never ever replace your own mother, but I will make damn sure that you know that you can always come to me for anything.”

“Awww, Mrs. Y/L/N. Don’t make me blush-ow!” He laughs, you’re guessing she pinched him.

“I’m serious, Munson.”

“I know, I know.” You can hear the smile in his tone. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

You stare him now; he’s trying so hard not to cry.

“Fuck.” His voice shakes and he pulls you into his arms for a hug.“Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his Motley Crue t-shirt. Your mouth muffled by his shoulder.

“I’m sorry too.” You whimper. He hugs you tighter, and you can’t help but completely melt into his arms.

Your father had left the house the same night. Your mom’s brother lived an hour away, who was completely beside himself over the loss of his little sister. You could see that your father was exhausted, that he was tired of making fall calls and answering the phone. You could tell he wanted to go see his brother-in-law. He was already talking about arrangements, and you pretty much forced him to go see your uncle, that the arrangements could wait and that everyone needed to clear their head because she had just died. You assured him that Eddie didn’t plan on going anywhere and that she wasn’t going to be alone, that Wayne was aware of what had happened and knew where he was.

You sat on the floor of your living room an hour after your father had left. The rotary phone was at your hip, the receiver at your ear before you slammed it down and yanked the cord from the wall. You were over the phone calls too. The cops were called, apparently a neighbor had saw Eddie “lurking” around your house and assumed that was the cause of your screaming. You were too pissed, too grief stricken, too exhausted to bite your tongue. You had snapped at Office Hopper, but as always, he handled your snapping as graciously as he always did.

“Who was it?” You snapped. “Mrs. Hansen, right? That bitch always had a problem with us because my mother was so outspoken. She could never say shit to her face but would say it to our other neighbors. Well, guess what Kathy! SHE’S DEAD NOW!” You scream out your front door, Eddie’s hands were on your shoulders, gently pulling you back in the doorway.

“Easy, easy.” He mutters in your ear.

“Y/N. There’s no need to yell, I’m so incredibly sorry for your loss, but when we get a call that is concerning like that, we have—"

“Why is he still being targeted as the town freak? He has done nothing wrong, ever! We’re not in school anymore, we’re practically grown-ups. We work, we play nerdy games, and we listen to music. Come on, Hop. You know she didn’t call over concern for me. She hates me.”

Hopper sighs, taking off his hat. “You have to be respectful to your neighbors. You know this. Especially…” He lowers his voice and leans closer to you. “Especially the ones who call when a cat shits on their lawn.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and your face softens.

“Get some rest kid. Let us know if you need anything.” He glances at Eddie. “Take care of her, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods. “Yeah, I know Hop. Thanks.” He says softly.

You shut the door quietly and lock it. You glance at the clock, not believing it was after midnight. You comb your fingers through your knotted hair.

“I’m going to wash up. I need to scrub this fucking night off me.”

He nods at you, and you gently squeeze his hand as you walk by him into the bathroom. Eddie watches as you walk away, his breath hitching as soon as you close the bathroom door. He runs his hands through his hair and shudders. Eddie was usually pretty good with his words, most of the time he could never stop talking, but tonight, he had none. He had no idea how to comfort you, he had no idea what to say, or what to do. He loved your mother. That woman took him in like her own with no questions asked and it got to a point where Wayne would offer her money, which she would always refuse. She was the only one besides Wayne to defend him after the murders and all the bullshit with Hellfire. You had told him that Hopper had to practically restrain her from punching one of the mechanics who wanted to go on a witch hunt to find you; you told him you had never seen Hopper so scared for another human being. Eddie has tears form in his eyes and he quickly swallows them back, groaning quietly from the stinging and aching in his chest. Your mother treated him like a son, and he knows he would never feel that again and that hurt. It also hurt that Eddie had never told her how he felt about you, how for so many years he would be brave enough to pull her aside and say something but would pussy out last minute. Eddie wanted your mother’s approval. It had been like that for ten years. Yeah, he slept around, wasn’t a virgin by any means, but none of them ever stuck. All those girls, those women, he always wished it was you. He loved you; he loved you so much, but now, he wasn’t sure if he could ever tell you.

You peel off your clothes after you begin filling the bath, you stare at yourself in the mirror. You look like you aged fifteen years in a few hours. Blood shot eyes, hair a wild mess, cheeks crimson from all the screaming and tears. You sigh as you step into the bath, the water hot and you wince as you feel every muscle unclench as you slide into the porcelain, until just your head is exposed above the water. You stare up at the tile on the ceiling, marking each corner that had cobwebs that you made a mental note to clean. You close your eyes, inhaling a breath as you sink your whole face under the water. The sounds are muffled, the sound of the faucet still filling the tub vibrates around you. You wonder what it felt like, what she felt. Did her heart stop first? Or her brain? Did she know she was going to die? You open your eyes underwater, your chest clenches again and you stop holding your breath. Your mother’s lifeless face flashes in your mind and you gasp in water, quickly lifting yourself up, knocking over the shampoo bottles. You sputter and cough out the water you had just inhaled. Tears spring to your eyes and you begin to sob and suddenly felt so, so alone.

“Eddie.” You groan out, but your voice felt small. “Eddie!” You call again, the tears still spilling.

You hear a shuffling of footsteps outside the bathroom door, and a soft knock. “Are you alright in there?”

You had forgotten you were naked and submerged in water as you lean forward to turn the faucet off. You felt insanely vulnerable, but you needed to clean yourself up. You just didn’t want to be alone. You bring your knees up to your chest, resting your cheek on your knee, doing your best to cover your breasts and torso. The lower half of your body was hidden by the soap bubbles.

“You can come in.” You tell him meekly, wiping away the hot tears.

You knew he hesitated, it took him a few moments to respond. “Are-are you sure?”

“Yes, I just need…I just need someone in here with me.”

The latch on the door clicks open, and he slowly pushes it open with his toe. His eyes were already averted to the ceiling as he walked in, trying his best to be respectful.

“You can look at me, Eddie. It’s okay.” Wow, you thought to yourself, you were feeling brave.

A blush rises to his cheeks, and he meets your eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when he could only see your bare shoulders, legs and back. He sits on the floor next to the bathtub, leaning his back against the wall and looks at the side of your face.

“Talk to me.” He says sweetly, resting his chin against the lip of the porcelain.

He watches you make the washcloth swim back and forth in front of you, and he gently leans towards your hands, taking the cloth from you. He waits for you to say something, but you don’t. He takes the small bottle of body wash and squirts a glob of it on the cloth, gently massaging it into the fabric. Your heart was racing, and you hear him inhale a shaky breath. He kneels up a little, the warm washcloth hits your skin so gently as he carefully traces circles around your shoulders. You shudder, a warmness settling in your tummy.

“What am I gonna do?” You say quietly, tears burn your eyes again and you groan, you were tired of the tears.

Eddie swallows hard, gently moving a piece of your hair back to wash your neck. This felt foreign to you, this semi-erotic moment of him touching you like this, so sweetly, so gently. Your Eddie.

“I don’t know.” He says to you. “I wish I did, but I don’t.”

You lift your head to look at him, seeing a blush creeping up as the hills of your breasts are exposed. You watch him as he concentrates on your back, gently moving the cloth up your neck, your eyes flutter close. He dips the washcloth in the water and squeezes out the excess, pausing before moving his way towards your lower back.

“You know whatever you need, I’m here. Okay?” He tells you and you nod. He gently wipes away an exposed tear from your cheek. “You’re kind of stuck with me at this point.”

Your face scrunches up in mock annoyance and he laughs, you chuckle. “Yeah, I know. Thank you.”

He's looking into your eyes now and your eyes dart to his lips, before looking back into his eyes. He quickly glances away to finish washing your back and you turn your body towards him so suddenly, water splashes up and he drops the washcloth. You don’t know where this feeling came from, how you just wanted to continue to be touched by him, be loved by him. Was it the grief? You weren’t sure, but you sure as hell wanted to feel something else besides the fucking horrendous pain. Your hands are on his shoulders, the wetness from you dampened the ends of his hair as he stared at you with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” He whispers, his hands reaching up to cup your wrists.

You could tell he didn’t want to overstep, and he kept his eyes just on you, your eyes. He was a gentleman in all the right ways; but he desperately wanted to look at your body. You were fully exposed to him besides your lower half, and he had dreamt of a moment like this. Your hands touch his cheeks, your nose barely grazes his.

“Kiss me, please?” You say quietly, and his breath hitches.

His hand cups the back of your wet hair, pulling you towards him slightly as your breathing picks up. You could feel him tremble as you lean closer, your breasts pressing against the coolness from the porcelain, your nipples hardening at the contact. You push your mouth onto his, his plush lips as soft as you imagined they would be. He uses his other hand to cup your neck, you opened his mouth with yours, feeling his tongue enter your mouth so carefully. You were kissing your best friend. You were kissing your best friend. You were kissing Eddie. Your Eddie.

You wrap both arms around his shoulders, and his hands wraps around your middle. He was getting comfortable, years and years of his love for you was spilling out in this exact moment. You feel him lift you so easily out of the tub, awkwardly stumbling into the wall. Not realizing how strong he was, he grabs your ass, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. You could feel his clothes soaking from the contact of your wet skin and could feel the wetness that pooled between your legs as he kept kissing you, blindly searching for the handle of the door. The cool air from the living room air conditioner hits your bare skin, causing gooseflesh to prickle all over you. You push your body against his more, deepening the kiss and he groans, bumping into everything you both contacted. Pictures became crooked on the walls, you heard something tip over from a few of the shelves, and you finally make it to your bedroom door. Your back hits it a little roughly, and he pulls away from you to catch his breath before pressing his mouth to yours again and he finds the doorknob with one hand as the other continues to hold you up. You both fall to your bed with an oomph, you start laughing hard because your head had clunked against the headboard, and he looks at you with wide eyes.

“Shit.” He breathes out, pulling away from your lips and laughs. “I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You smile at him and nod, your lips pulsating from the kissing. He smiles down at you, rubbing your cheek, your hair, his hand gently smooths its way down your bare arms, towards your hips. He’s still looking at you, wanting to make sure it was okay for him to really see you before going further. You rub his cheek, and he leans into it, gently kissing your palm as he hovers above you. He was still trembling, and you take his hand, placing it on your skin below your breast. His calloused fingers squeeze the spot gently, his fingers barely grazing the underside of it as you watch his throat bob. He leans towards you and kisses your lips gently, leaning back on his heels as his eyes dart over your body. You bend your knees ever so slightly; he places his hands on your knees and kneels between your legs. He lets out a sigh and smiles sweetly at you and pulls off his shirt. His fingers trace a soft line over your ribs, he makes circles over your navel, the soft skin at your hips.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers to you, he chuckles awkwardly. “I mean, you’ve always been beautiful to me, not that just your body is beautiful. Your face is beautiful too, and your heart. All of you, everything—”

“Eddie, take a deep breath.” You smile, moving your palm up his torso and cupping his cheek.

He laughs, inhaling deeply, and places both hands on the side of your head as he leans down, your legs wrap around his jeans, feeling his eager bulge through the zipper. He kisses you softly, pulling away to look into your eyes. You could see tears form at the corners of eyes and you hold his face in your hand.

“What? What is it?”

He sighs, leaning up on his elbow. “For so many years, I wanted to tell your mom something that had been eating at me.” He groans, a single tear falls down his cheek and you wipe it away. “I wanted to tell her how insanely in love with you I was…I am.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, your heart does a back flip, and you feel your own tears prickle your eyes.

“I know it doesn’t mean much now, because she’s gone…fuck.” More tears spill from his eyes, you wipe them away, he holds your hand to his cheek. “I loved her. I loved her so much and she became a mother to me at a time when I really needed her, and she always told me I could tell her anything. I should’ve told her how I felt about you sooner, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Your heart broke for him. You knew how much he really did love your mom. Their relationship was for sure that of a mother and son. He had called her one night from the Hideout in the middle of the night because he got into a fight with a stupid townie and she’d bring him back to your house, cleaning up his wounds and comforting him. One night he had fallen asleep on your couch from a night of too much drinking, and she tucked him in, placing a large cooking pot next to him in case he had to puke. She would do so many motherly things for him that he wasn’t used to, and once he was finally comfortable enough to accept those gestures, he felt like a little boy again. You bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling and you give him a smile.

“I think she knew.” You curl your fingers through his hair.

“How?” He asks you.

“I never really thought much about it at the time, but she would throw subtle ‘son in law’ jokes at me and I would just ignore her. Because you were my best friend, there was no way you’d feel any other way than that. Or so I thought.”

You trace an outline on his lips with your finger. “You love me?”

He nods, not bothering to wipe another stray tear away. “More than you know.”

“I love you, too.” You tell him softly and he smiles.

“Yeah? You sure?”

You roll your eyes, tugging a piece of his hair and he yelps. “Don’t make me take it back.”

He laughs, caressing your face with the back of his hand, smoothing out your wet hair. He leans down, kissing you softly. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him onto you, he lets out a hot breath as you push your tongue in his mouth. His hands travel down the dip in your shoulder, down the middle of your chest and stops on the curve of your breast. You feel the coolness of his metal ring against your skin, your nipple hardens, and you gasp in his mouth when you feel his fingers gently pinch the hardened bud. His mouth finds your throat, leaving kissing trails down to your shoulders, still pinching and squeezing your breasts as you squirm beneath him. His mouth takes your nipple in his mouth, and you hear him softly moan as he gently bites down. His tongue swirls around the bud and sucks, and you arch your back. His hand travels down your navel and over your sex. You whimper when you feel his fingers spread your lips apart and he runs a finger over your clit. He pulls away from your breast and kisses you hungrily, his fingers tracing circles around your clit, pushing down and he smirks against your lips when you let out a loud moan. No one has ever taken their time with you; you have only had sex with two men in your life and it was always you finishing them off first and them being “too tired” to return the favor. Eddie knew what he was doing, you knew this wasn’t his first rodeo, and you desperately wanted to know what else he could do. He pulls away from your lips, licking and kissing a trail all the way down to your navel. He leans back on his heels, and your eyes widen at the outline of his hardened cock beneath his jeans. He places his fingers in his mouth, sucking off the taste of you and you squirm at how sexy he looked. You bend your knees and open your legs wider.

“Damn.” He mutters, scooting back to lay in front of your dripping cunt. He wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer to his face. “You really are beautiful.”

He kisses your clit gently, you arch your back, gripping at the sheets beneath you. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nerves, and he sucks on it, letting out a loud groan. It vibrated your entire body, and you moan. His fingers press into the meat of your thighs as he buries his face closer, his tongue lapping at your hole as you could already feel yourself about to burst. You grip his hair, tugging on it hard, which sends him into a frenzy, and you feel two fingers slide their way into you.

“Eddie…”

You moan his name, and he begins to pump those fingers into you, pressing against the sponginess of your g-spot. He continues to devour your clit and you lean up on your elbows to watch him. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you couldn’t believe that your best friend of ten years was doing these things to you. Your Eddie. He pulls away from your clit, feeling you clench around his fingers, and he slinks his way back up your body, his chin wet and dripping of you. He kisses you passionately, you moan at the taste of yourself, and he continues pumping his fingers in and out. His thumb finds your clit and rubs circles, you hold onto his shoulders as he kisses you, feeling yourself close to release. He pulls away from your lips for a moment.

“Come on, baby. I know you can cum for me.” His voice was lower, almost deeper.

Those words almost sent you over the edge, words you never in a million years thought would come out of his mouth. He pumps harder and groans as your hand finds his cock through his jeans and you rub your hand over the material. You dig your nails into his shoulders, and he lets out a hot breath against your neck, whimpering at the sheer intensity and passion.

“Fuck, Eddie…”

You moan out in pleasure and he groans against your neck. You feel the pressure building and building in your lower belly and you cling onto him as your orgasm rips through you and you cry out. He keeps his fingers inside of you, riding the orgasm out with you, the overstimulation was insanely uncomfy but as he kept pumping into you, you eased into another hard orgasm and your body shook beneath him. He slides his fingers out of you, you catch your breath as you continue to cling onto him. His hands grip your hip, and he looks at you, a smile creeping on his lips. You sigh, crashing your lips against his, unbuttoning his jeans hurriedly and sliding them off. His lips graze against your ear lobe and you roll him onto his back with your legs and he giggles. You laugh, kissing his lips, his neck and you lean up on your heels. His hands hold onto your hips. The length of him was almost intimidating, you bite your bottom lip and take him in your hands, gently moving your fist up and down. He lets out a deep groan and his eyes squeeze shut, arching his back. You rub his precum over his tip and he shivers, you move your head towards his cock and glance up at him. He looks at you with half lidded eyes and you lick a long strip from the base all the way to the tip, taking him into your mouth.

“Oh…oh my, unghhh—”

A loud, throaty moan escapes him, surprising you both and you both laugh. He covers his face with both his hands shyly, slightly embarrassed by the sound he just made. You kiss his tip, licking down his shaft and he whimpers. He grips the back of your head as you bob up and down, taking him all in, rubbing his balls to get him to squirm. He let out a low growl, a sound so animalistic and sexy you couldn’t believe you were the cause. He wanted to feel you, he wanted to be inside you and couldn’t wait any longer. He pulls at your hair, lifting your head up, your lips were swollen and wet with spit.

“Come here.” He says breathlessly. “Now.”

You crawl up to him, his lips catch yours in a passionate kiss. You were trembling now as you lined yourself up with his length. He cups the back of your head, sweetly pecking your lips as his other hand grips at your hips. You keep your face close to his, your lips barely touching as you lower yourself onto his cock. He squeezes your hips, throwing his head back into the pillow and lets out a throaty groan. You whimper as you take him all in, slowly rocking your hips to get used to the size of him as he stretches you out.

“Are you okay?” He whispers to you, lifting his arm up to cup your cheek.

You nod, pleasure was building in your belly as you grind against him, your clit rubs generously on his pelvis. You look into his eyes, running your hand up his chest, over his tattoos, tracing his lips with your fingers. You insert two fingers into his mouth, which he takes willingly and sucks. You move your hips up and then down, hard. His moan vibrates on your fingers as you rock faster against him; you remove your fingers and begin playing with yourself with that same hand as he watches you in awe. He arches his hips into you, and you cry out, your head falling back, he caresses and pinches your nipples. You lean forward, using the headboard as support to continue your movement. His tongue traces circles around your nipple, sucking hard and squeezing both with his hands. He moves onto the next one, you moan louder into his ear, and he grabs your ass, burying his cock deeper into you.

In one swift motion, he flips you on your back. His eyes stare into your soul, and you kiss him. He kisses you back with the same hungriness from earlier, taking your leg and moving it onto his shoulder as he thrusts into you. An insanely pornographic sound escapes your lungs, and he smiles against your lips. He leans up slightly to stare at your face, you were biting your bottom lip, and your eyes burn into him, and he could feel his heart growing bigger and bigger for you in that moment. You grab his perfect ass with your legs to push him further into you and he arches back; your lips go to his throat, gently nibbling on it and licking all over. Your orgasm was building in your belly, and by the way he was slowing down and getting a little clumsy, he was close too.

You pull his face towards you by the back of his head. “Fuck me.” You tell him through gritted teeth.

His beautiful brown eyes dilate, and you see the pure lust take over in his stare. He leans back on his heels, pulling himself out of you and you frown, he pulls you towards him hard by your thighs, his fingers for sure going to leave lovely bruises. But you didn’t care. Before you could make another comment, he slams his cock into you, and you scream out. He holds onto your hips, rolling his against yours at a hard pace, you swear you could see all the fucking colors of the rainbow.

“Fuuuuck…” He moans out. “Oh fuck-I’m gonna—”

“Don’t stop, Eddie.” You whimper, his cock slamming into your g-spot over and over was making you forget your name.

You move your hands down and find your clit, rubbing vigorously against it as your cunt clenches against his cock. He watches you rub yourself, a smile toys on his lips as he stares in wonder at you, he felt as if he was fucking a goddess.

“Oh god…”

“Cum with me, baby. I want to feel you.”

He groans loud, and that was enough to send you screaming, and crying out his name as you came all over his cock. You grip the sheets under you, still cumming hard and he slams faster into you, the bed squeaks and the headboard bangs into the wall and he sputters.

“Oh…my…unnngh.”

He slams into you once more, you could feel the warmness settle in your cunt as he came inside you, feeling his cock twitching as he slowed his pace and cried out, collapsing onto your chest. He rolls his hips against you and shudders. The two of you lay there in a pile of limbs, heavy breathing, and sweat. He lifts his head up to look at you, smoothing out your still wet hair, and presses his lips to yours. Your tongue goes into his mouth, and he moans softly, cupping the back of your head, deepening the kiss. He slides out of you gently, and pulls away from you, laying on his back. His hand rested on your thigh, and you could feel him dripping from you; you needed a minute. Or several.

“Well,” he says breathlessly. “I’ve never done that with you before.”

You weakly slap his chest and laugh loudly; tears prickle your eyes as you feel another laugh roll out until you’re full-blown cackling. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow and you laugh harder. He shakes his head, laughing with you, turning onto his side to rub your tummy gently. Your laugh was one of the things he loved about you because it was so contagious, and that this was the first time today he could see pure happiness on your face.

“I’m sorry.” You manage to say, your laugh still rolling out of you. “I don’t know why I’m laughing so hard. Oh wait, I do, you’re a fucking idiot and I love you.”

He laughs, kissing your cheek. “No going back now.”

“No.” You say, catching your breath, bringing your palm up to his cheek. “Never.”

He kisses your lips, your cheeks, your neck and leans up on his elbows. “My clothes are soaked.”

“I’ll put them in the wash.” You kiss his nose, slowly sitting up in bed, you could already feel the soreness between your legs. “I’m pretty sure my mom folded a bunch of your clothes you left here the other day.” You pause and turn to look at him.

“Of course she did.” He says with a sweet smile, tracing your spine with the tip of his finger. “Do you want me to go get them?”

You knew he only asked because the washer and dryer were in her little den with her vanity mirror.

“Uh, no. It’s okay.” You give him a smile. You go into your dresser, pulling out underwear and your oversized Queen tour t-shirt you got in 1987. Your mom had bought the tickets for you and Eddie; Eddie was indeed a total metal head, but he had a soft spot for Queen, probably because you loved them so much. You throw on the clothes and turn when you feel his eyes on you.

“What?” You ask, a blush creeping up on your cheeks as you stare at his naked body.

His right arm, which was covered in a full tattoo sleeve, was bent behind his head as he looks at you.

“Nothing.” He smiles sweetly. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. Around us.”

You lean over to him to kiss him, he holds your head,, leaving lots of pecks around your cheeks and lips, causing you to giggle. You pull away, turning around to grab his mess of clothes on the floor, throwing his dry boxers to him. He takes this opportunity to smack your ass and you yelp. You narrow your eyes at him, and pull out his chain wallet, snapping it open, pulling out some cash, you could only make out a few ten-and one-dollar bills.

“I’m taking this.” You tell him, shoving the bills into your underwear.

“Pretty cheap date, don’t ya think?” He laughs, pulling his boxers over his hips as your face falls into mock shock, you pull out the cash and throw it at his face, causing him to laugh harder.

You shake your head, leaving the room, heading towards your mother’s den. You slow your walking down as you meet the closed door. The grief starts to creep up again, your hand trembles as you reach for the doorknob. You twist the knob and push it open. An aroma of peach, rose and slight Sandalwood hit your nostrils and you have to hold onto the wall for support, blindly finding the light switch. The light is bright, and you squint, your eyes already filling with tears as the scent of your mother was everywhere in this room. Her vanity sat perched against the wall, the wood was a soft amber color. She had rebuilt this vanity after getting it from a garage sale a few years ago. You gently run your hand over the fabric of her sweater that hung behind the chair she always sat at; whether to do her make up, or randomly sketch some drawings in her sketch book. You pull your hand away as if burned, and you quickly go to the washing machine, tossing Eddie’s clothes in as well as some dirty ones that were in the basket. You see his folded clothes on top of the dryer, your heart hurt with how right you were and how she would never fold his clothes again. You groan, looking over the clothes, sniffling. You take out his Metallica tour t-shirt, and his black jeans. You exit her room after shutting off the light and quietly shut the door. Eddie was strumming at your acoustic as you walk back in, smiling at you at you hand him the clothes. He sees the tears in your eyes and immediately puts the guitar back on the stand.

He takes your hand, “What happened?”

You shake your head, trying to smile. “Nothing…it’s nothing. I’m okay. Can we go to bed?”

He looks you over once with concern and nods, gently kissing the top of your hand. You crawl into bed, leaning over him to turn off the light on your nightstand. You curl up next to him, burying your face in his chest. He wraps his arms around you, pulling the blanket over the both of you. You feel his lips kiss your hair and you sigh. All the sadness, all the grief had fallen away as he held you and you wished you could stay like that forever.

As if the universe was working against you, you woke up screaming. You were covered in sweat and tears pooled from your eyes as a panic attack settled deep in your chest. You sat up, leaning against the headboard, bringing your knees up to your chest as you scream out a sob. Eddie had woken up immediately, feeling you thrash around before you woke up. Dawn was approaching, and he flicks the light on. He kneels in front of you, placing both of his hands on the side of your head.

“Hey, hey, look at me, I’m right here.”

The dream you had replays over and over in your head like a broken record. You let out a painful groan, holding onto your stomach as you to try to speak and to calm your breathing before you hyperventilated.

“She…she was right there. Right in front me.” You tell him, your voice choking with sobs. “Right there! She was so close to me and I tried to reach for her hand but she kept moving away from me, and I ran to her. I ran so fast, but she just kept going further and further away until I couldn’t see her. And then she was gone. She was gone.”

You cry, hard, and he takes you in his arms, hugging you as you wept. You wail and he tightens his hold on you, gently rocking you as you gripped onto his arms.

“I’m not ready for this.”

“I know.” His voice trembles, smoothing out your hair. “You don’t have to be ready for something like this.”

“Why did she leave me?” You whimper, your entire body shakes.

“Why was she taken away from us!? Oh god…”

He kisses your head, your cheek, finds your lips and kisses them softly.

“Please don’t leave me.” You choke out. “Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. I promise you.”

“Don’t leave me.” You cry, holding onto him for dear life. He rocks you and you cry. You weren’t ready for the coming days, you weren’t ready to keep feeling this sorrow phone call after phone call, hug after hug, tear after tear. You weren’t ready for today. You weren’t ready for tomorrow. You weren’t ready. You weren't ready.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fluff #Eddie Munson x smut #Eddie Munson #eddie munson x female reader

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emberfrostlovesloki · 7 months

Text

Hit and Run [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (Panic! at the Disco) Center (@hotch-girl) Right (@figdays)

Prompt: The BAU reader gets in a hit-and-run accident on the way to work, and Aaron is forced to confront his growing feelings for her. Those feelings are finally shared as the reader nearly faints on a case and Aaron is there to catch her before she falls.

Pairing: Hotch x fem reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: Hurt/Comfort/fluff

Word Count: 13.5K

Content Warnings: Car accident (hit and run [reader]) cuts and bruises, second-degree burns on the legs and feet (and healing of those burns), hospitals, canon typical violence (mention of poisoning and strangulation), fainting (reader) language.

A/N: Good evening, loves! I’m so happy that this is finally finished. It turned out much longer than I had planned. But somehow I’m not surprised. There isn’t a ton of action in this story, it’s just a lot of emotional build-up that I hope pays off in the end. I hope you enjoy this, and if you do, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you have a great rest of your week! Love Levi ❤️

P.S. This is not as edited as it can be. I'll do that tomorrow.

List with all stories

_y/f/s_ = your favorite song

_y/h/l_ = your hair length

_y/f/f/w_ = your favorite face wash

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color

_y/f/f_ = your favorite fruit

_y/b/f_ = your best friend

_y/f/s_ = your favorite TV show.

_y/n_ woke to the lack of oxygen. Her vision was black, and she couldn’t breathe. _y/n_ tried to move, and that was her second mistake. As she tried to shift in what was a very uncomfortable, confined space her body protested. It was also hot, uncomfortably hot. The pain and the heat dragged a ragged breath from _y/n_. That also hurt, her ribs aching against the movement of her lungs expanding in her ribcage. _y/n_’s eyes open and the world swam in front of her. There was something white in her lap. That was all she could make out, as she blinked and saw spots. The heat on her lower legs was becoming unbearable. She groaned in pain. Why was everything hurting? What was going on? She had just been driving to work like every other day for the last two years after joining the bureau. _y/n_’s mind moved back to the early morning.

She had woken at 5:00 a.m. as normal to an alarm that she was now regretting horribly. _y/n_ could feel the approaching time change, and she knew that it would be even harder to adjust to the shorter days and possibly leave the office in darkness instead of the warmth of the dripping orange five o'clock sun. _y/n_ had set _y/f/s_ as her new alarm. Now that she had woken to it for over a week, _y/n_ realized that she might be ruining her favorite song for herself. _y/n_ had rolled over in bed and for one second, wished she was back in college when the worst thing about an alarm had been the prospect of a dreadful 8:00 a.m. algebra class. In the darkness of her room, _y/n_ finally hit stop on the alarm and got out from under the warm covers of her bed. Once her feet were on the wood floor of her bedroom, _y/n_’s natural routine kicked in. _y/n_ moved to the bathroom and turned on the light by the sink. She had to blink a few times to adjust to the sudden brightness. _y/n_ pulled her _y/h/l_ hair away from her face with a fluffy grey headband. She turned the tap to warm and waited a moment for it to heat up. After thirty seconds, _y/n_ leaned down and began raising her face with the warm water. After her face was wetted, she pumped a small bit of _y/f/fw_ into her palm and began applying and lathering it over her skin. Once _y/n_ was satisfied with the coverage, she rinsed it off completely. Lastly, she turned the knob on the sink to cold and rinsed her face once more. The cold water always had the wanted effect; finally getting her tired brain to wake up. _y/n_ padded into the kitchen and started a cup of coffee before moving back to the bedroom to change. She needed to do laundry but was avoiding it -- putting it off until the weekend. Because of this, her options were scant. She decided on a pair of loser-fitting black pants with a simple white grid pattern. She had picked them up at a thrift shop two weekends ago and thought they were a good find. _y/n_ then went to her closet and picked out a _y/f/c_ turtleneck shirt. She added a grey scarf and pulled out some thick socks and her well-worn Doc. Martins. Once the outfit and boots were on, _y/n_ moved back to the kitchen. She doctored the coffee to her liking and opened the fridge. She pulled out a yogurt cup and a piece of _y/f/f_ from the fridge. She leaned against the counter as she dipped the spoon into the yogurt. She needed to eat quickly as morning traffic was going to be hell on the way to work. It had rained the night before and the temperatures had dropped below freezing which meant slick, icy roads. After burning her tongue on the hot coffee and finishing breakfast, _y/n_ made it out to her car. She didn’t forget to grab her go bag or sidearm from its gun safe, as she locked the door behind her.

Coming back to herself, the heat on her legs was really starting to hurt and whatever adrenaline had stopped the real pain from kicking in was quickly ebbing away. _y/n_’s eyes cleared, and she came fully to her senses. She let out a cry. The deflated airbag was resting on her lap with fragments of tempered glass from the passenger side door and windshield. _y/n_ could distinctly hear her breathing. _y/n_’s left hand seemed to be pinned between her seat and the plastic padding of the interior of the car. She tried to pull the appendage free but it was struck. _y/n_ could move her fingers at least which was a good sign. _y/n_ was sure there was some sort of fire happening near her feet and legs, and she used her right hand to clumsily push back the airbag. There was black smoke filling the cab now and there was a tongue of flame dancing near her ankles. She tried her best to pull her feet up as she coughed on the noxious fumes. The situation was becoming dire. _y/n_ started to panic as her eyes welled from the smoke. She tried to undo her seatbelt, but it was stuck. Not thinking clearly with all the pain, she tried to open the driver’s side door, but that too seemed jammed. _y/n_ pulled her turtleneck over her lips and nose and tried to undo the seatbelt again. She didn’t even seem to notice as a group of strangers beat on the unbroken glass of her window to get her attention.

Emily saw the whole thing. Or almost the whole thing, as she made her way to work. The roads were crowded and people driving were either very defensive or just plain bad given the weather. Emily pulled on the main drive to work and saw _y/n_’s car in front of her. Em had considered tapping her horn to say hello but decided against it. They would be together in the office in about ten minutes anyway. As they moved down the road toward the intersection that led to the FBI field office, a car merged into the lane in front of Emily, dangerously. At this, she did honk her horn once and thought, ‘Jerk,’ as the sedan slightly blocked her view of _y/n_’s car. The light, which was notoriously fast, turned green and Emily inched forward. The light was turning yellow as Prentiss approached the intersection, and _y/n_ was halfway through the four-lane street with her blinker on to turn left. There was no way that _y/n_ could see the truck coming from the other side of the intersection. The large vehicle was speeding down the slippery road and ran straight passed the red light and into _y/n_’s car. Emily couldn’t tear her eyes away as the metal collided. Prentiss watched as _y/n_’s body was violently pushed to the side. The sound of the metal crunching and glass breaking had Emily’s nerves standing on end. _y/n_’s car and the truck slid a foot to the edge of the highway curb. There was a moment of silence as if Emily were waiting for something else to happen. The truck didn’t seem that damaged apart from a large dent to the hood, and it roared back to life loudly. The tires squealed against the ice as it backed up and then, very quickly sped down the street. Em memorized the plate number and then pulled forward into the intersection. Prentiss sent up a silent prayer that everyone else on the road had stopped and that another car hadn’t been involved in the crash. Em flicked on her hazards and jumped out of her car. Two other vehicles had done the same thing as her and a large man was already at the door of _y/n_’s car trying to open and free the agent trapped inside. Then there was a petite woman with her phone to her ear speaking to 9-1-1. Em overheard the woman say, “No, we’re trying to get her out of the car now. She’s moving around in there. Yes, yes. It’s the intersection of Neville Road and Barnett Avenue. Because Emily was assured the paramedics were on their way, she moved toward the heavily dented call. She called a number one on speed dial as she got to the wreck.

Aaron had gotten to the office early. When didn’t he? He was normally the first one in and the last one out. No matter how he cut it, either as he found his job important, or that he hardly had a life outside of work -- apart from Jack -- at least his extended hours at the bureau kept him from his empty apartment. When he was there, and Hailey had Jack during the week, it felt all too still. All too lifeless for his liking. At least he got to do some of the more bureaucratic brain-rotting mundane paperwork the job entailed from the team. He could often be found late at night in his office filling out the basic forms for his team over and over and over again in his neat blocky handwriting. So far it was only he and Mogan in the office, Derek was moving toward his desk, and Aaron turned to do the same. In half an hour he was going to meet with JJ to see about the next case for the team. Just as he settled into his swivel chair that hurt his back if he sat in it too long, he heard Derek shout his name. There was a distress in its tone. A sharp “Aaron!” that he rarely if ever had heard from Morgan before. He was on his feet and out of his office in an instant. He flew down the stairs. Morgan was already on the move toward the elevators and Hotch jogged to make up the distance and asked as he moved down the hall, “Morgan, what is it?” Derek turned to Aaron and said, “_y/n_ got in a hit and run on Barnett. Emily just called me. She’s already there.” Hearing this made Hotch’s stomach feel like it was suddenly being squeezed by an iron fist. His heart dropped as the worst possible scenarios flicked in front of his mind. Aaron hurriedly asked, “Is she okay? What did Emily say!” The urgency in his voice probably gave away that he was incredibly concerned for his younger agent’s safety. Perhaps more concerned than a boss should be about his employees. Hotch could see that Derek had caught what he was thinking, but he couldn’t fucking care. Not when he was imagining _y/n_ bleeding out, or already dead in front of him. He couldn’t bear it, so he repeated his question. Finally, Morgan snapped back to himself and as the elevator moved to the ground floor, he replied, “Em says she’s awake but trapped in the car and there’s a smoke filling the cab.” Hotch gritted his teeth, as he nodded along. Smoke meant fire, and fire meant possible combustion. Aaron wished the damn elevator moved faster. When they got to the bottom floor, he and Morgan sprinted past Spencer, Rossi, and JJ who were waiting to pass through security. Spencer asked, “What’s going on?” Morgan shouted back, “_y/n_’s hurt.” Derek’s car was the closest to the pair, and they both got in. Derek moved out of the lot as quickly as he could without speeding or getting himself and Hotch in an accident of their own with the roads as they were. When they got closer to the intersection, the cars were backed up down the road. Aaron looked at Morgan and Derek could see the desperation in his colleague's face. Morgan said, “Jump out. I’ll pull over and be there in a minute.” Aaron nodded and moved out into the bitterly cold air. Hotch nearly ate it twice on the slick concrete. He couldn’t care, he’d crawl on his hands and knees to get to _y/n_. Hotch could hear the peal of sirens in the distance. When he got to the scene, there was an assembled crowd. He elbowed his way to the front. He was relieved to see _y/n_ was out of her car. But the crumpled wreck of metal didn’t much calm his mind. _y/n_ had been pulled twenty or so feet away from the damaged vehicle.

Emily saw Hotch ran, and nearly tumbled, as he got a foot away from _y/n_. Prentiss felt better now that he was here. Em knew that _y/n_ and Hotch had something going on, or at least they both wanted to have something going on. The whole team saw it as a matter of fact. The issue was that neither Aaron nor _y/n_ had caught on. Or if they had, both parties weren’t acting on the feelings between the two of them. Hotch fell to his knees next to Emily. Prentiss was holding _y/n_’s hand. Prentiss sort of handed over _y/n_’s hand to him. Aaron didn’t even think as he took it and held it close in both his hands. Subconsciously, he drew _y/n_’s hand close to his chest, his heart. He was leaning over her, trying to ascertain the damage to her body. Her level of pain. When _y/n_ felt a new set of hands, a familiar set of hands resting around hers, she opened her eyes. Everything was bleary, swimming in front of her. But even with her compromised vision, she knew it was Aaron beside her. His broad shoulder and soft touch were all she needed to know that it was him. _y/n_ thought that she’d know him with less information than that. She believed that she could be blinded and deaf and she’d still know it was him if he walked into her room. _y/n_ tried to turn her head to the side to see his face better, but the man that had ended up dragging her body out of the driver’s side window which Emily had shot out with her sidearm, stopped her movement. There was a painfully loud explosion from _y/n_’s car as it finally combusted. The fire had reached the fuel tank and even though they were far enough away from the car to not be burned, the whole group could feel the heat radiate out from the flaming car. At the noise and heat, Hotch protectively moved his body over _y/n_’s. The loud sound had _y/n_ whimper, and Aaron wasn’t sure he could take hearing _y/n_ like this. Aaron didn’t even realize that the fire trucks, police cruisers, and ambulances had arrived. The sound of their siren was not registering to him, as he only had thoughts for _y/n_. Morgan and the firemen telling the assembled crowd to move back finally brought him back to himself.

Aaron shifted up as two EMTs ran over to them. Hotch reluctantly let go of _y/n_’s hand and moved back to make room for the two men who now had taken his and Prentiss’s places. One of the EMTs pulled out a penlight. _y/n_’s eyes didn’t follow the light. They drifted, and her pupils were dilated. Meanwhile, the other, leaner EMT was looking at _y/n_’s legs. The man had pushed up _y/n_’s pants up to her knees. Aaron looked at the angry red skin on her legs. At some point _y/n’s shoes had been taken off and Hotch noticed there was a small hole in her sock near her big toe. All Aaron seemed to be able to do at the moment was notice small details about _y/n_. Like how her watch face was cracked. How _y/n_’s speech was slurred as the paramedic asked her if she remembered what had happened. It seemed that _y/n_ did, just struggled to get the words out as she said, “Hit ‘an run. Big.” She swallowed painfully and continued, “Truck. Grey green… light.” Aaron suddenly became poignant about Emily being near him again as he felt her gaze linger on him. He turned and looked at Prentiss. Aaron asked, “What happened exactly?” Emily swallowed, as she watched _y/n_ squirm under the hand of the leaner paramedic who was pressing down on her blistering legs. Once Em had composed herself a bit, she said, “Well _y/n_ was one car in front of me. The light turned green. She did everything right, obviously. This guy, I’ve got his plate number and everything was driving a Ford F-350. And it was grey. The guy hit her on the driver's side. He was out of control maybe. He just barreled into her. I couldn’t guess the speed he was going. If the dude had been out of control when he crashed into _y/n_, he most certainly intentionally left without getting out and checking on _y/l/n_.” Hotch nodded and said, “Alright. Well, call Pen about the license plate. She’s sure to be in her office right now. I’m sure she’s called all of us at least twenty times by now. She’ll be relieved to hear from any of us.” Prentiss nodded her assent and moved to get her phone from her back pocket.

Aaron watched the paramedics move _y/n_ onto a waiting stretcher. As they lifted her up, Hotch turned to the larger man and said, “Can I ride with you to the hospital? Where are you taking her?” The man looked at Aaron intently and said, “Rockingham Memorial. Are you her husband? Partner.” Hotch cleared his throat for a moment, as his heart stuttered in his chest, and said, “I’m her boss. She’s a federal agent.” Aaron flashed his badge at the man, and the EMT took a second to look at the badge and Hotch over once. The EMT nodded and said “Alright. We’re going to load her in and then you can sit in the bench seat.” Hotch nodded as the seasoned medical professionals easily transported, wheeled, and lifted _y/n_ into the back of the waiting ambulance. Once the more built man was inside and locking the gurney in place, as well as placing one restraining strap around _y/n_’s waist. Hotch sat on the edge of the small seat. The EMT radiated the other man and said. “We can get moving, Stan.” There was a static and Stan replied, “Roger that. Headed to Rockingman, John.” With that, the large vehicle started moving down the road. John started by pulling out the pressure cuff and placing it around _y/n_’s arm. The man checked in, making sure his patient was still with them, even if not fully present. John asked, “How are you feeling? What’s your pain level on a scale from one to five.” John held up his hands, indicating one and five. Aaron focused in on her, as she said, “I don’t feel anything really. I’m just cold. So cold.” John nodded and moved to the front of the space. The man pulled out an emergency blanket and spread it over _y/n_’s form before he started pumping the pressure cuff to see what her blood pressure was. When the man had taken the reading, he jotted down the number, the EMT looked to Aaron, who was clearly upset, and said, “She’s most likely in shock. Both from the cold and what she’s been through in the last hour. Right now it looks like a mild concussion, some; burns to the legs, lacerations from the glass, and bruising to the body. Given the state of her car and how charred it was, I think we can find _y/n_ very lucky to have so fortunate an outcome. She very well might have died in her car as it caught fire.” Again all Aaron could do was nod along because there was nothing else for him to do but wait to hear more, from the hospital, Garcia, or _y/n_ herself. Hotch knew that he was going to have to think long and hard about what this whole incident meant to him. How he had reacted on pure instinct. How he couldn’t stop himself from seeming composed as he learned that _y/n_ had been hurt. How he had pictured her dead, lifeless body in front of him. How that was the worst thing he could possibly imagine at the moment. But for now, he would wait. Try to be present to _y/n_’s needs. There would be time to think later. Quickly the ambulance rushed to the hospital and when it arrived, Hotch jumped out and made way for the EMTs to lift _y/n_ down and out of the truck. As Hotch watched the men wheel her away to a space he didn’t have access to, John said, “You can go to the front of the hospital and check-in. A nurse will be with you when there’s news on _y/n_’s condition.”

Once Aaron had checked in at the front desk, he paced around the waiting room. Hotch pulled out his phone for the first time in an hour and found thirsty missed calls from Gacia, and three texts from Derek, Rossi, and Emily asking where _y/n_ had been taken. Hotch told Morgan the name of the hospital and what John’s preliminary assessment of _y/n_ had been in the ambulance. He was sure Derek would spread the word to everyone else. Once he ended the call with Morgan, who assured him he, Emily, and Rossi were headed over once they had finished speaking with the police. Next, to keep himself busy, Hotch called Garica. Penelope picked up on the first ring, and even though she said, “Office of Supreme Intelligence, to whom am I speaking?” Aaron could hear the strain in her voice. Aaron replied, “It’s Hotch. Got a read on that license plate yet?” There was a squeaky sound as Penelope moved in her swivel chair. Her tone was now determined as she stated, “I do. Plate number 7PN-G542 belongs to Mr. Paul Wilson of South Carolina. The man is squeaky clean. It appears he’s done nothing wrong in his life. I’m pretty sure this isn’t the guy we’re looking for.” Hotch asked, “Why’s that?” Penelope was typing away wildly, as she replied, “Well Mr. Wilson is Cuban American and the man Emily described was white. Also, there’s a report out for that truck's plate reporting it being stolen two days ago from a lot in South Carolina. So…” Hotch breathed a sigh and said, “Alright. Well, the report’s out there, at least there’s that.” There was a moment of silence before Garcia asked, “How is _y/n_? Em said she looked pretty bad. Did the paramedics say anything else in the ride to the hospital?” Aaron was still pacing but stopped for a moment. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand. Everything felt like it was happening so fast and yet so slow. He looked at his watch, it had only been fifteen minutes since he had gotten here. He had no idea how long it would be until someone came to tell him more information about _y/n_. He exhaled and replied to Garcia’s question saying, “There’s not much more to add from what Morgan told you. The EMT said she was most likely in shock, but she stayed conscious the whole ride over. _y/n_ was a bit loopy though, speaking with slurred speech, and long pauses, but the EMTs seemed to think she would be alright. Of course, only time can tell.” Hotch let the last line slip and realized how strange that sounded coming from someone like him. He repeated the line in his head, ‘Only time can tell.’ How cliche he reflected. Time would tell, time was telling right now as _y/n_ was being examined, prodded, and pocked to see the extent of damage her body had taken. Hotch became aware that he hadn’t been speaking for a minute, as Garcia’s breath on the other end of the line came through clearly. Thankfully Aaron was saved from any awkwardness because Prentiss, Rossi, and Morgan all rushed into the room. Hotch said, “Hey, Garcia, most of the team is here now, so I’m going to catch up with them. You can come a join us if you like.” The technical analyst replied, “I’ll be there in a bit. I’m going to see if I can find more info on the APB for the stolen truck, and then I’ll head right over.” Hotch nodded and said, “Garcia, please don’t break any internet or hacking laws trying to find this guy.” There was a pause and he tacked on, “At least not any that you can get caught for.” Hearing this, Penelope chuckled and said, “You got it, boss man. See you in a few.” The call ended, and Aaron approached the rest of the team.

Thankfully the members of the BAU only had to wait for about another forty minutes before a nurse came out and said, “Party for _y/l/n_?” Just as the middle-aged woman called, Garcia entered the building and all five members moved to the woman. Her nametag had Joan printed on it. Joan smiled and said, “Ms. _y/l/n_ is recovering well. She sustained a second-degree concussion, a hairline fracture to her left wrist, some bruising and lacerations to the face and chest, and second-degree burns to her legs. The whole team seemed to still at the news. Everyone looked around as if silently asking, ‘And how bad is that? What does that mean?’ Joan was helpful enough to answer their unanswered question with, “Miss _y/n_ is recovering well. She’s more fully conscious now. The primary concerns are her concussion and the burns on her feet. She’ll need some aid in getting around for a week or so, and the hospital is going to monitor her for a few more hours to make sure she’s cognitively okay for discharge. The doctor is speaking to her now, but you should all be able to go back and see her in a few minutes. She’ll need someone to stay with for a few days. Everyone nodded along. It was a short wait now that the team knew more, and that _y/n_ wasn’t in any serious danger. This didn’t stop Hotch’s mind from racing. From him wondering what would have happened if it had been worse. If _y/n_ had been seriously hurt. He tried as hard as he could, and yet he couldn’t still those thoughts. This situation reminded him that life was frail. That life, love, could be snuffed out in an instant. Life could be taken and it wouldn’t even have to be on the field, it could happen on a cold Monday morning and it wouldn’t even be his fault. There might not even be anyone to blame. The idea disturbed him deeply. His first were clenched tightly at his sides. He could feel his fingernails digging into the soft skin of his palm. As the nurse indicated it was okay for the team to move and see _y/n_ Hotch thought, ‘This is a problem.

Inside _y/n_ little curtained-off room, the doctor was just finishing up speaking with her and the grey-haired man moved out of the way to make room for the large group. When everyone shuffled in, _y/n_ almost smiled. She was much more coherent than two hours ago when she had been laid out on the frozen ground, Aaron noticed. _y/n_ didn’t look or feel great. Her body ached all over and her vision was still a bit off. The lights were too bright for one thing. She had to stop herself from squinting as the team all herded in around her. She knew she already looked goofy in a hospital gown. The nurse hadn’t let her look in a mirror, and maybe that was for the best. Not that _y/n_ was a very vain person. She tried her best to be content with her body and how she looked, but it felt like crossing some unspoken personal rule to be this disheveled in front of the team. In front of Hotch. For a second, she wanted to hide her face in her hands, or ask Emily, “How do I look?” But it was all pointless, and it would be such a character shift from the normal, no-nonsense attitude she showed in the field and office. So she mustered up a face that hid some of her pain and said, “You don’t have to look so concerned, guys. I feel like garbage, but I’ll live.”

The team did look very worried, and she thought that maybe she really did look as bad as she felt. The team chuckled at her comment, and immediately she felt better. _y/n_’s gaze found Hotch’s, and she noticed the thin line of his mouth. It was set seriously. She wondered if he was mad at her? But why would he be? She’d never really seen him like this before. It was close to the time that Emily had gotten hurt in a case at Waco. But there was something more to this look, and she was too tired to try and decipher it at the moment. Instead, she flashed him the tiniest of smiles. At this, Aaron’s face seemed to settle to its normal stoic look, so _y/n_ looked to the rest of the team so she didn’t start blushing. Penelope moved toward and gave her a little kiss on the cheek and asked, “How are you feeling, baby girl?” _y/n_ normally bristled at Pen’s pet names, but she accepted it once given the circumstances. _y/n_ replied, “Well, they’ve got me on some pretty good pain meds, so all things considered it could be worse. My feet feel funky though, in a not great kind of way. Penelope squeezed _y/n_’s hand and said, “Well we’re all here to help you out with whatever you need.” Derek agreed, saying, “Exactly what Pen said, _y/n_. You need anything and we’re on it.” As Morgan finished, the nurse moved back in and asked, “Miss _y/n_ have you decided who you’re going to stay with for the next few days?” _y/n_ blushed profusely. She hadn’t had time to ask anyone on the team, and she wasn’t even sure they had been informed that she was going to get some help for the next two days. It was embarrassing really. She liked others to think of her as strong and confident. Someone they could turn to, but now the tables had been turned. She looked up at the team, and she could see in all those assembled that they would be happy to have her. Rossi may be less so, but both she and Dave knew that she wasn’t going to ask him. _y/n_ had to pull herself from looking at Aaron. Because if she did, he would readily nod, and then that would mean that they could spend the night together at her place, or his, and potentially the night after that, and _y/n_ wasn’t sure if she could take that right now with how she was feeling. She might say things and do things that betrayed her feelings for him. In fact, she knew she would do something stupid, given all the meds and endorphins rushing through her body. So she looked up at Emily, and Prentiss beamed at her. They didn’t even need to say anything to understand each other. _y/n_ looked over at the nurse and said, “I’ll stay with Emily.” Prentiss raised her hand as her name was spoken, and the nurse moved toward her to get her contact information for the hospital's systems. As Emily moved with the nurse to the information desk, Rossi stepped forward and patted _y/n_ on the shoulder and said, “Keep your head up, kid.” _y/n_ gave him a smile too and said, “I’ll try Rossi.” There was an awkward silence as _y/n_ looked over at Hotch. _y/n_ wondered if he was ever going to say anything, or just keep standing there looking pained and uncomfortable.

Finally, Aaron cleared his throat. Garcia and Dave seemed to slide out of the room before _y/n_ could ask them to stay. She flushed again, and _y/n_ knew that Aaron could see her. _y/n_ wasn’t so silly to assume that Hotch didn’t know about her infatuation with him. It had to be clear. It was just awkward that neither of them had admitted it, even in the slightest. Maybe _y/n_ had read into Hotch’s actions around her, but she was pretty sure he cared about her as much as she liked him. The fact that he was her boss was what was a real punch in the gut. But what could she do? The feelings were there, she just had to stifle them. After a minute of silence, Aaron spoke. He used his reassuring voice, but he wasn’t sure who exactly he was giving comfort to, himself or _y/n. He said, “Would you be honest with me? How do you really feel, and what did the doctor say?” _y/n_ let out a sigh. She couldn’t lie to him even if she wanted to, so she said “My head’s all fuzzy, the lights are too bright, and my feet and legs hurt. Not that they're hot, just painful, like pins and needles all over. The doctor has them bandaged all up.” For some reason, she pulled up the blanket covering her legs to show off the medical gauze covering her feet and lower legs. It went up to her mid-calf and Aaron couldn’t help but cringe a little. It looked painful. He waited to see what _y/n_ was going to report about the doctor’s findings. He said her name, “_y/n_?” The woman in the bed came back to herself and said, “Dr. Jenings said I’d be out of the field for a few weeks, maybe three. The concussion and the fact that I can’t really walk sealed that deal pretty easily.” When _y/n_ finished, she bit the inside of her mouth. Aaron looked her over and saw the disappointment in her gaze. He knew that _y/n_ hated when she was out of the field. It had only happened once before when she got the flu very badly in December last year. She had been out for two cases and as badly she had felt, she still had Gacia fill her in on the case and called Emily or Derek once or twice a day. Aaron wanted to reprimand her, but he knew he would have done the same thing if he had been in her position. He had, however, texted her saying, “_y/n_ please take it easy.” Hotch felt the same way now, as he had then. He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. That really got _y/n_ to look at him, and he said, “This wasn’t your fault, _y/n_. There was nothing you could have done about this, and no one on the team or in the office is going to fault you for having to take a break.” _y/n_ looked a bit crestfallen but nodded anyway. Sometimes Aaron thought that _y/n_ felt like she had to right every wrong the world threw at her. Hotch knew that _y/n_ had a troubled past like every member of the BAU had a complicated past. He didn’t have all the details of her story, but he could sense that she felt pressure to show up. To be there a hundred percent of the time. Aaron knew how that felt. He knew what it meant to think that it was already too late. Hotch didn’t have a lot of time to think about it further as the nurse and Emily moved back into the space. Joan was holding a pair of crutches and for a moment Aaron thought that she must be joking. There was no way that this medical professional expected _y/n_ to get on her feet this soon after what she had been through Not after he and multiple doctors had seen the state of her feet.

Aaron’s concern was addressed shortly as Joan said, “Miss, _y/n_. This might seem counterintuitive, but we’re going to need you to try and get out and up on your feet as soon as possible. The doctor recommends it so that there isn’t a chance of thrombosis or blood clots. There’s also a chance for tautness of the surrounding skin. It will be incredibly painful, but we need you to try and walk as soon as you can for your well-being.” _y/n_ nodded. Aaron could see that she looked concerned at the request, but was trying to hide it from everyone. Maybe even herself. Joan gave _y/n_ an encouraging smile. The nurse said, “Good, well here are some clothes to change into for your release. Would you like me to stay behind and help you with that?” _y/n_ nodded and Joan asked Aaron and Emily to give them some privacy. As the duo moved outside, the rest of the team was waiting for them. Now Spencer and JJ were there as well and everyone asked Emily and Aaron what had happened. The pair did their best to explain what the nurse had said. It took a bit longer than expected. However, Hotch assumed a lot went into getting someone ready for that much pain. Aaron didn’t even want to think about it. He didn’t have to as a half-strangled sound could be heard coming from _y/n_’s room. The sound took the breath out of Hotch and he could see the rest of the team cringe. Garcia was so upset that she hugged Derek. Morgan took the analyst in his arms and covered her ears for her. There was a shuffling from inside the room and more pained noises. Hotch was biting down so hard on his tongue that he was sure it would bleed soon. The door was opened by Joan, and Aaron’s eyes snapped to _y/n_. She wasn’t even trying to look at any of them. Her brows were pulled so tight in pain that they were nearly touching. _y/n_ was leaning heavily on the crutches, gripping the handles with white knuckles. _y/n_ was taking labored breaths, as she moved unsteadily on her feet. She was looking at the ground only. Just at where her feet were meeting the floor. She had on some special shoes, thick black sandal-type things that accommodated the thick bandaging on her feet. The rest of the team moved to give her space and not have to see how pained she looked. But Aaron moved to her other side. It may hurt him to see _y/n_ this way, but it was clearly nothing to how she was feeling. And if his presence could provide even a modicum of comfort, then he would be there for her. Hotch stood on her right as she moved toward the door toward the check-out desk and the charge nurse. Aaron moved his hand behind _y/n_’s lower back. He didn’t make contact with her skin; his hand simply hovered over _y/n_’s shirt. It was a metaphorical helping hand. For one second, _y/n_ moved her eyes to his, and he could see that all the pain was still there, but there was a small bit of gratitude as well. _y/n_ wouldn’t be able to find the words to thank him. She wasn’t sure if she could for two reasons. First was the fact that even breathing seemed like an impossibility at the moment. The second reason was that the team was still around, even if they weren’t looking at her and Aaron. But _y/n_ had a feeling that if she opened her mouth more than a thank you would tumble out.

It took what felt like a very long time, though it was just around four minutes, for _y/n_, Joan, and Aaron to make it to the door. The nurse moved and held open the swinging doors for _y/n_ to get out of. Hotch’s train of thought was similar to _y/n_’s as she moved out into the lobby. He wondered if the team was scrutinizing his actions with _y/n_. If they were, and someone brought it up later, he would address it. For now, his attention was solely on _y/n_. Hotch was grateful that the staff at least let _y/n_ sit while she signed a few forms for her discharge. Emily also took on some papers and Joan also gave Prentiss a few file folders for the needed care steps for _y/n_’s recovery. Rossi moved forward and took the papers from Emily. When the paperwork was finished, Aaron looked over to Em and said, “I’ll drive you both to your apartment.” Prentiss nodded and Derek moved forward to get Prentiss's keys to drive her car to the front of the hospital. Aaron bent down and asked, can I give you a hand up?” _y/n_ looked up at him for the first real-time that day. She looked so tired but nodded her head yes. _y/n_ got her crutches ready to support her weight once she was on her feet again. Aaron bent down, placed his hands under her arms, and lifted her up. Once _y/n_’s weight was on her feet again, she made another pained sound, but this one was much smaller, just a little “mhm,” with an exhalation of breath. Hotch, _y/n_ and Em all moved to the sliding doors and out into the cold air. Hotch watched with a keen eye for any slick or ice spots on the sidewalk. Thankfully it was just a few feet from the hospital entrance to the waiting car. Derek got out of the driver's seat and along with Aaron, helped _y/n_ into the back seat. Hotch noticed the goosebumps from the chilly air on _y/n_’s skin, and he removed his jacket and handed it over as she gave him the crutches that didn’t quite fit in the backseat. Aaron watched with a tiny bit of warmth in him as _y/n_ slipped his oversized jacket over her frame. Em and Derek were talking quietly near the front of the car. Aaron moved to the trunk and placed the crutches there then moved to the front. Morgan stepped forward and asked, “Are you going back to the office after this?” Hotch nodded and said, “Yes. I’ll need to file some paperwork for _y/n_ and reach out to medical and see what timeline they have for time off in the field. However, if you or anyone else on the team needs the rest of the day off, I’d understand. Can you tell anyone else on the BAU team that?” Derek nodded and said, “Will do Hotch.” Morgan gave his arm a sturdy pat and as the built man turned to move back inside, Aaron called out saying, “Please drive safely, Morgan.” Derek looked back and caught his eye before he nodded and then moved back into the hospital.

Emily moved to sit in the back of the car with _y/n_. Em and took the injured woman’s hand in hers. Prentiss rubbed circles over _y/n_ thumb softly, providing a soft touch to distract and remind _y/n_ that she wasn’t alone. Aaron pulled out out of the crowded parking lot. He looked into the rearview mirror and saw _y/n_ leaning against Emily’s shoulder. Hotch asked, “_y/n_ how’s the temperature? Do you need it warmer?” _y/n_ just barely opened her eyes and said, “I’m good, thanks.” Aaron nodded, feeling bad that there wasn’t more he could do for her. It took about a half hour with traffic to get to Em’s townhouse in the center of the city. Emily got all of the files, and Aaron helped _y/n_ into the elevator, down the hallway, and finally to a seat on Emily’s couch. Emily turned on a single lamp and grabbed a glass of water for _y/n_. Prentiss took a bit longer in the kitchen than she needed, giving Hotch and her guest a few minutes of privacy. Hotch knelt and placed a hand on her left shoulder. He wanted to do so much more, to rub his hands over her arms, or stroke the profile of her face with the pad of this thumb. He wanted to dote on her, pick her up, put her to bed, and make sure there wasn’t any pain. But _y/n_ probably wouldn’t like that. She acted so strong on and off the field that he wasn’t sure that this kind of corporal affection would be appreciated. He also wasn’t sure his romantic feelings would be reciprocated either. It was one of the many reasons that he hadn’t said anything about his feelings for her. He couldn’t deny that he sensed a connection between them. Something physical and beyond. But perhaps he was reading into things. His brain going into hyperdrive in terms of profiler mood. His brain seemed to short-circuit sometimes when he was near _y/n_, but he was composed enough to hide it. Or at least he hoped he hid it. Aaron realized that he wasn’t saying anything, that his hand was lingering on _y/n_’s body. He looked at her, and she was staring at him. Her gaze seemed a bit distant, but _y/n_ was trying to focus on him. She opened her mouth and tried to say, “Hotch. I’m…” but Aaron stopped her saying, “Please don’t say you're fine, _y/n_. You were, are, in real pain, and you also went through something very traumatic. You don’t have to be brave right now. It’s okay.” That was all Aaorn could bring himself to say without it getting out of hand. A noise from the doorway had Hotch standing in an instant. Emily entered the room and placed the glass of water on the table next to the couch. Hotch softly said to _y/n_ alone, “Rest if you can, alright?” _y/n_ nodded and moved to take off his black blazer. Without really thinking about anything, or that Emily was standing right by him, he said, “You keep it for now. You can bring it back when you’re back in the office.” Aaron moved and unclipped his FBI badge that was still attached to his exterior breast pocket. He slipped the plastic into the back pocket of his trousers and moved away from _y/n_ reluctantly. He turned and Prenitss had a look on her face that spoke volumes without having to say a word. Aaron let out a little sigh, and he motioned for Emily to follow him a bit farther away from _y/n_. Hotch wasn’t ready to address whatever Em was thinking. Instead, he said in a steady voice, “Feel free to call me or text if you need me, or _y/n_ needs something. Anything. I’m just a few minutes away.” Prentiss nodded and said, “I’ll let you know. She’s going to be okay, Aaron. _y/n_’s a strong person.” Hotch nodded, not willing to address the look Emily was sending him. He moved out the door before anything else could happen.

The next morning, _y/n_ who had just changed her bandages and taken her antimicrobial and pain meds got a call from Aaron. _y/n_ picked up and tried not to give a groan of pain, as she raised her legs onto the bed. She answered, “Hey Hotch? What’s up?” There was a brief pause before Aaron said, “Just checking in. I have some news, but I want to hear how you’re feeling first. How was last night?” _y/n_ could hear that Hotch was using his office voice again. The tenderness that he had spoken to her with yesterday was still there, just veiled behind professionalism like normal. _y/n_ could picture him sitting behind his desk. His knees brushed the inside of his desk as it was just a bit too small for his lanky limbs. He wasn’t on his office phone, given he had called her on her cell. The image of him sitting, bathed in the soft lighting of his lamps was one she played out in her head often. He wasn’t exactly stationary in these thoughts, he was doing things other than paperwork or calling her to see if she wasn’t so battered and bruised. _y/n_ had to push those thoughts back. Now was not the time or the place. Even if her wildest fantasies were fulfilled, given the pain in her body was still feeling, none of those blissful ideas would be able to be completed. _y/n_ stifled a sigh, and instead replied, “It was okay given the circumstances. Things are still pretty painful and I understand what the doctor was saying about the long-lasting effects of a concussion now. My head and brain still haven’t seemed to reset to normal yet, but other than that, I feel as good as I can. Now tell me about your news. What did medical say?” _y/n_ was so familiar with the BAU procedures to not know why Hotch had been calling her. The medical board had gotten back to him to let Aaron know how long she medically needed to be out of the field. Hotch let out a big sigh and replied, “Well the med board looked over your files from yesterday and they’ve grounded you for three weeks, minimum. Given the concussion and the physical nature of being on the field, it’s not wise to have you back with us until then. When you get back after the three weeks, you’ll have to see medical to get cleared back to the field. _y/n_ couldn’t stop the long sigh that they let out while hearing the news. _y/n_ understood the need for her physical well-being, but being off gave her time to think. And if she thought too hard, her mind went to bad places, from the past and present. Working for the BAU mercifully kept her mind on other places and horrible scenarios. But now she was grounded and it sucked. There was a small silence before _y/n_ replied, “I understand.” She could hear Hotch click his pen, a habit of his that she noticed when Aaron was in the office. He would click his pen either on his wooden desk or with his thumb. Aaron took in a breath and said, “Try and rest while you can, _y/n_. You can call me or text me if you have any questions about your return to the field. And if you think you need more time, just let me know.” Hotch said the last sentence as a formality. He knew _y/n_ would be going stir-crazy after three days of not being at work. There was another silence, and _y/n_ asked, “Can I come into the office at least? Like after a week?” Aaron sat back and swallowed his emotion of concern for _y/n_. What more could he say than, “I can’t stop you from coming in the building, _y/n_.” They wrapped up the call shortly after that. _y/n_ closed her eyes for a minute and just tried to relax. In a few minutes, she was going to do her exercises to help with her recovery. It would be a long three weeks.

The team got called away on a case the next day. Thankfully _y/b/f_ was able to help _y/n_ who moved back to her apartment after Emily left for the new case in Vegas. Even though the lights twinkled and shone on the Vegas strip, and there was a highly unique case afoot - an unsub apparently leading people to poison themselves due to bankruptcy and gambling addictions - Hotch found it hard to keep his mind on the case. At the hotel the second night, he tried to find a lead, any lead that would help the team pinpoint more about this unsub. His brain drifted to _y/n_. He wondered what she was doing right now. It was 11:45 p.m. Any sensible person would be asleep given the chance. Maybe she was in her bed. Aaron had to stop himself there. He didn’t have sexual thoughts about _y/n_, at least not yet, but he was so tired that if he kept thinking about her, his brain might idle down that path. This, he would not allow. It was bad enough that he felt that he couldn’t even talk to _y/n_ he would feel infinitely worse if he started getting off to her too. He reflected on these feelings for a moment, how they had come to metastasize in him. From early on during their employment, Aaron could tell that _y/n_ was someone who couldn’t be easily pushed or waived. When _y/n_ had committed to something, they stuck to it. Not that she was one to hang onto an idea or train of thought during a case like Rossi's. _y/n_ tried to be open-minded in that regard. But she had committed fully to the team since the day she signed on. That was the standard, the expectation for him, but _y/n_ sometimes felt over-committed. She would stay up all hours of the night trying to figure a piece of a case out. She relied heavily on his, Rossi's, and Emily’s experience in the field to catch up on facts or training that she might have missed in her previous placement. Aaron sensed that she was running from something given how hard she worked both in the field and the office. He hadn’t asked what that was, but Aaron could sense it. He had hoped that maybe one day she would tell him. But then their feelings toward each other had become more complex. It had happened during a brutal and long case in October last year. It involved kids which was always the worst to deal with for him. The team had been working non-stop until Aaron had essentially ordered them to get some rest. Everyone had moved into their rooms to pretend to sleep and an hour later Aaron was moving down the hall to run a theory by Rossi. He had passed _y/n_’s room and heard crying inside. It wasn’t loud, but he could hear it distinctly. The sobs coming from inside ripped at his heart like a knife. He had knocked and the crying stopped momentarily. _y/n_ had moved to the door, unlocked both bolts, and removed the security chain. Aaron could hear the metal rubbing against each other. When _y/n_ had opened the door, she moved back to let him in. She turned her face as if to hide the pain there from him. Aaron gently took hold of her hand, and she finally looked at him. Softly he asked, “What’s the matter _y/n_? Is it the case? Has something personal happened?” _y/n_ bit the side of her mouth trying to stop the tears from coming again. But she couldn’t, and as she started shaking and crying again Aaron moved forward and took her in his strong arms. She leaned into him; really leaned into him for the first time. He had never seen her so vulnerable before and as he asked, “Please tell me what’s bothering you,” and her enigmatic reply of, “I just can’t Aaron. I can’t;” had changed everything. Because at that moment Hotch would have done just about anything to make _y/n_ feel better. To free her of whatever pain she was feeling. Whatever emotions were plaguing her? And when _y/n_ had stopped crying, and Aaron pulled away, she could see it in his eyes, and she wanted that from him just as badly as he wanted to give it; thus their fates were sealed, because this relationship, or hope at one couldn’t happen, and yet Hotch yearned for it. Thought about it nearly every time he looked at her.

Thankfully Aaron’s brain did manage to think of something besides _y/n_, and that was Rossi. Whenever he got stuck, he’d go and see Dave to see what the pro had noticed that he might have missed. It was helpful having someone older than him on the team for Hotch to turn to. Aaron pushed himself out of the bed and slipped on his tennis shoes. He padded down the hall and as he moved forward, Emily stepped out of her room in front of him. Prentiss was on the phone and said, “Yeah the team’s okay. I’d love to be spending a week in Vegas just for fun. How’d you feel coming here during Spring Break some year? You, me, Morgan, and Penelope…” There was a pause and Em continued, “You got it, Baby. Sin to Win.” Hearing this, Aaron actually laughed. He tried to disguise it as a cough but didn’t succeed. Prentiss turned on her heel and relaxed when she realized it was just him. She gave him a bit of a joking disapproving glare at him eavesdropping. Hotch could never not laugh when Emily said, “Sin to Win.” He was still unaware of the connotation or story associated with the phrase, but it never failed to make him laugh. It just sounded so strange coming from someone as polite and proper as Em. He pointed at the phone pressed to her ear and whispered, “Who is it?” He already knew, but Emily indulged him and mouthed, “_y/n_.” Aaron nodded and mouthed back, “Tell her to go to bed.” Prentiss rolled her eyes and said into the phone, “Someone has someone has something to say to you, _y/n_.” Without further ado, Em removed the phone from her ear and pressed it into Hotch’s hands. Aaron flushed red and looked at Emily like a deer in headlights, but Em crossed her arms and just looked at him as if saying, “Do it yourself.” After what felt like a bit too long, Aaron pulled the cell to his ear and said in an embarrassed tone, “Hey, _y/n_. Ummm… maybe you should be getting some rest?” The was a beat of silence, and _y/n_ let out a soft breath at hearing Aaron suddenly on the other end of the line. She replied, “I am resting, I’m in bed right now watching _y/f/s_. I feel so rested that I’m even planning my next vacation. Emily is promising me ‘Sin to Win’ in Vegas in the Spring.” Hotch had to stifle some sort of sound from coming out of his mouth at the rather wild and lurid image his brain came up with in association with _y/n_ and Em’s new favorite phrase. He coughed once and said, “Well good, just don’t get ahead of yourself. Rest well _y/n_.” With that, he quickly handed the phone back to Emily and moved down the hallway, well aware that his agent could see how flustered he was. As Aaron made his retreat, Em pulled the phone back to her ear and said, “It’s me again.” As Prentiss slipped into her room, she smiled. It was fortuitous that she had stepped out of her room when she had. Prentiss, JJ, Rossi, and even Morgan had started waiting for bated breath for something to happen between _y/n_ and Aaron. At this point, Emily was willing to push things in that direction if she had to, and tonight had been a clear, successful first step.

The case in Nevada wrapped up. Hotch was always glad to be headed home, but in this case, he was especially glad. It meant that he could check up on _y/n_ The team decompressed, and a few days into the next week, _y/n_ stopped by the office. _y/n_ sat next to Spencer and Derek talking about the latest case and what she had missed. Hotch clocked her grabbing at one of Morgan’s files, but he swooped in and took it from her hands, turned it over, and set it firmly back on Derek’s desk. _y/n_ pouted at him slightly, and both Spencer and Derek looked away. Hotch and _y/n_ were acting differently than they had before. Aaron had realized after the accident that life was too short and fickle for him to be playing around. The thought of _y/n_ being in a worse situation than being dragged from her car just in time was something that was going to stay with him for a long time. So even if he couldn’t say anything, he was going to at least act a bit more involved. Hotch viewed this like a soft launch, though to the rest of the team, it looked like ten massive steps forward. No one on the team was going to say anything about it though. They were just grateful that something was happening between them. Hotch also started acting like this to see if _y/n_ wanted this like he assumed she did. If she wasn’t interested in his advances then he would stop instantly. This was only his first day seeing her, and he was trying to still act natural, but he couldn’t deny the rush he felt when she looked at him like this. She feigned disappointment at him taking the file she had, but a genuine happiness to see him again. Aaron’s thoughts were shattered as Penelope's voice cut through his mental fog. Hotch turned to look at the small landing that connected the bullpen to the upper level of the floor the BAU was housed on. Garcia said, “The fam is home, _y/n_ is here, and everything is right with the world.” No one on the team acknowledged that their very jobs meant that the world was a horrible, awful, depraved place. But it was the thought that counted. Aaron moved aside to make room for Garcia in the little huddle of agents. He moved to the edge of the staircase, hesitant to move away. He listened in on the conversation the group was having. He pretended to look over one of his own files, even though he wouldn’t normally do that down in the bullpen. He at least pretended like he was missing a paper as he rifled through his full folder. He listened in on Garcia and asked, “So what’s with you and your friend getting into a fight? What happened there?” _y/n_ gave a small sigh at the question, but replied, “It’s this damn concussion. Some things, like the lights or certain sounds, just seem to set me off. I apologized, profusely, and we made up, but it’s just annoying that such little things are bothering me. It makes me feel like I’m not in control. I hate that.” Aaron actually started moving up the stairs as Spencer started going on a tangent about concussion symptoms and car crashes, while Pen leaned down and kissed the top of _y/n_’s head.

A full week elapsed and _y/n_ met with medical and took a physical to clear her for the field. _y/n_ was still walking awkwardly, but they were out of the heavy bandaging and her feet and legs had healed well given the care she took with her body and recovery. Aaron was forwarded the medical report from Dr. Sujedia recommending _y/n_ take off a few more days. Aaron had called _y/n_ to his office to discuss the results. _y/n_ sat down and did her best to look tough and undisturbed. Unbothered by the results of the test. Aaron looked over the papers and said, “As you know, Dr. Ramirez recommends another three to four days of rest. I’m prepping a new case with JJ this afternoon and I want your opinions on your condition. How are you feeling?” _y/n_ was honest with Hotch, knowing that was the best guarantee that they would be allowed onto the next case. She said, “My head’s still bothering me, and I don’t think my legs are down for a chase on foot right now, but I can just sit in the background. I can listen to and organize files in the precinct. I can work with JJ and do a geographical profile, or…” Aaron cut her off with a small raise of his hand from his desk. He knew she was trying to prove that she could still be an asset to the team, even if she couldn’t do all of the physically demanding aspects of the job. Hotch thought it over for a moment. He knew that _y/n_ would be upset if he said no. He saw the determined look on her face. Reluctantly he gave a nod. At least if she was with the team he could look over her. Not that she wanted that exactly, but it would make him feel better. He dismissed _y/n_ shortly after he reminded her that she was to take it easy on the case, doing work that would let her rest her body. He watched as she gave him a big smile and walked out the door. She was so happy that she didn’t even try to hide the little limp she had while walking on her tender feet. Once _y/n_ was back in the bullpen talking animatedly to Emily, he moved over to Garcia’s office. He knocked on the door once before he entered the dim space. Penelope looked up from her three monitors and asked, “What’s up Hotch?” Aaron leaned against the door and replied, “How many times did she visit you while we were away?” The ‘she’ in question didn’t need to be named before Pen said, “Just twice, but I didn’t ask her to Hotchy. I swear she came of her own accord.” Hotch’s set into a firm line for a second before he said, “Alright, well don’t encourage it, at least until she’s a bit better.” He added very softly, “She looks worn out.” Pen smiled gently and could see the concern on her supervisor's face. Garcia replied, “Pinky promise. We’ll take care of her.” Aaron nodded ever so slightly and then moved out of the technical den and toward JJ’s office.

The next case was in North Carolina at the private post-secondary school, High Point University. So far four male students that were all athletes had been found strangled on the school grounds. A panic had set in from the students, faculty, and most annoyingly the donors to the small campus. There was an obvious tie with all of the students being men and athletes. Though different sports had been targeted, not just a single athletic pursuit. There was also the option that scholarships could take a part in the murders as two of the three men killed had been on athletic scholarships that semester. As the team bounced ideas off of each other on the plane ride, _y/n_ said, “There are some wealthy alumni from Highpoint. Maybe this is some wild Operation Varsity Blues type of situation?” As always Spencer took off with this idea and how nepotism could be as real a motivator for murder as rage or shame might be. Aaron looked over his team from his spot near the front of the jet. It felt good to have _y/n_ back, even if in the pit of his stomach he felt concerned about throwing her back in the field like he was. Granted she had asked, but even so, he was still concerned. When they got to the university, JJ immediately started working with the campus media team to get a consistent message out. Hotch moved to speak with the University Police Department and Rossi went to the local station. Hotch took Morgan and _y/n_ with him, while Rossi had Spencer and Emily moved to the downtown police station. Things continued to move quickly as they always did on a case. The team made a basic profile. By the end of the day, due to the unsub clearly being young, or at least mentally young, they had made plenty of mistakes that were easy to pick up on. Unfortunately, the campus's UPD wasn’t used to murder’s happening on their territory and was overwhelmed by the student and parent response. The day unfolded with the team creating a profile and trying to stay as low-key as possible. Because the BAU was the BAU it was clear to the students that something was happening. This meant that the unsub was also likely aware of the presence of the FBI, pulled back, and might stop their killing spree. This would be a good thing except that once the BAU was gone, they could simply start killing again. Therefore, the team started canvassing the campus. Sitting in on big lecture classes and speaking to faculty. The team assumed that the unsub was a student first. Secondly, they assumed that the student was not an athlete, and potentially a student who had to retake a year or even more of coursework at the university.

_y/n_ was trying to listen to her body and abide by Hotch’s request that she take it easy. She had sat in a large mirco-economics class with Spencer and watched as the genius took so many notes. Covering over twenty pages as Dr. Reid wrote furiously about economic theory, where the Professor was wrong, where the textbook, which Spencer quickly read before class was incorrect. All _y/n_ could think of was that she was glad she was not that professor, or that she would ever have a class with Spencer as the instructor -- she knew she would fail the course on entry. After that, _y/n_ moved to the UPD’s department and went through piles and piles of non-sexual assault claims. If the unsub was a supersenior, there could be over six years' worth of reports to look through. She spent most of the day looking over these reports. The next day, _y/n_ spent a good deal of the morning with JJ, fielding concerns from students, bursars, and faculty members who asked questions. The pair also held some interviews with a few students that had caught the team's interest the day before. Although the interviews didn’t reveal much, but they gave _y/n_ an idea about something she read yesterday in a report. _y/n_ didn’t mind doing this kind of clerical work, but it was harming her current condition. Being under such harsh fluorescent lights was making her head swim. It was also putting their temper on edge. The last interview where a young sophomore had scratched his head incessantly and said, “Um,” “Like,” or “And” every other word had put _y/n_ pushed something in her like an itch that desperately needed to be scratched, but there was no actual, physical place to relieve the annoyance. _y/n_ was desperately looking forward to being cooped up alone in the files room looking for that one folder that she was thinking of. It would be killing two birds with one stone. It could be potentially helpful to the team, and it would give her a moment to decompress and let out her annoyed feelings. Just as _y/n_ was getting ready to leave, Hotch showed up and asked JJ and her about their progress. Mercifully JJ answered for both of them. When Aaron turned his gaze to her, she said, “JJ’s right. We haven’t found much with what we’ve looked at this morning. However, there’s a file I remember standing out at the UPD. I was going to head there now actually.” Aaron nodded. He turned to JJ quickly and said, “Keep up the good work here. Call me if you find anything useful. The smallest scrap of information could be helpful now.” JJ smiled at Hotch and said, “You got it, Hotch.” Next, Aaron turned to _y/n_ and said, “I’ll walk you there.” _y/n_ nodded and followed after him as he opened the door for her. Aaron could tell that something was happening with _y/n_. He couldn’t pin it down yet, but he wanted to make sure she was okay. The day was unimaginably hot given that it was November. The campus was also sprawling and had lots of external stairs. The UPD and the file storage center were almost a mile apart. As the pair moved down yet another set of stairs. _y/n_ felt that she was so hot. The sun felt like it was beating down on her relentlessly. As _y/n_ took another step down, she felt her ankle buckle and her mind went blank as her body swooned toward the concrete steps.

Aaron could feel that something was wrong as he and _y/n_ moved down yet another set of steps. Halfway down those steps, he looked over to _y/n_. Her breathing was shallowed and despite being in the direct sun, her skin looked shallow. He watched as her eyes fluttered closed and _y/n_’s body crumpled dangerously quickly toward the hard, sharp steps. For a millisecond, Aaron felt like he was back at the scene of the wreck, but this time he could do something in the moment. He wasn’t powerless. So, Aaron moved his left leg down two steps and positioned his body and arms to catch _y/n_’s limp body. When he caught her, she let out an exhalation at the harsh contact of her body colliding with his. Aaron bent down slightly and used his other arm to pull up under _y/n_’s legs. He gave a soft grunt as he took _y/n_’s full weight in his arms. Hotch moved carefully down the steps and glared at any students who threw him an intrigued or concerned look as he held _y/n_ close to his chest. Aaron moved to a flat portion of the path that was covered. He spotted a bench that was shaded by a large tree. Hotch quickly moved in that direction, and _y/n_ started to stir in his arms; her eyes slowly opening. Aaron got to the bench and sat down with _y/n_ nestled in his lap. He brushed a hand over her cheek, as she fully came to her faculties. _y/n_ gave a small groan and asked, “Wha’ happened?” _y/n_’s slurred speech worried him. Hotch replied, “You fainted, _y/n_. You really could have been hurt if you were walking alone.” Aaron couldn’t veil his concern. Not now. He added, “I’m worried about you, _y/n_.” _y/n_ looked up at him, not fully aware that Hotch’s hand was in her hair, and his heart rate was beating out of his chest with concern. _y/n_ tried to get her vision to clear. The pain in her head from the lights and the heat was still causing her pain and she replied in a tone that she wanted to sound exasperated, but it really just came out like a snap, saying, “Why do you even care?” And once the words were out and the tone became apparent, her vision cleared and she saw Aaron fully, and the look of love and care for her overwhelmed her. In a breathy voice, one that was starting to be overcome with tears, she said, “I didn’t mean that, Aa…” Her voice was strangled by tears and Hotch pulled her close to his body. His head rested on top of hers as he said, “I know. I know you didn’t mean it that way. I know.” And as Aaron held her, she did know he knew. That he knew it all. At that moment she wouldn’t fight him. All she wanted was for him to hold her and help with the pain. He had at the hospital. Even being near him made her feel better. They stayed there for a few moments and Aaron said, “I’m taking you back to the hotel. You need rest and don’t even try to fight me on this. You mean too much to me to be having on the field right now.” _y/n_ nodded and shifted to stand, but Aaron stopped her with a large hand, saying, “You’re not walking right now in this heat. I’ll carry you to the SUV.” _y/n_’s mouth fell open slightly and said, “Aaron I can do it.” Hotch nodded his head no, replying, “I’m not having you move down all those stairs again. The car is only two lots, over. Now if I hold you like I did before, will it hurt your legs at all?” _y/n_ swallowed and softly said, “No. It won’t hurt me.” Aaron nodded and readjusted his hands again. Carefully picked her up again. He moved quickly to the SUV. He set _y/n_ down and got pulled out his keys and unlocked the doors. Once _y/n_ was seated and buckled, he turned on the AC. The ride to the motel was short with Aaron just shooting Rossi and Em a text saying that he’d be back in a half hour or so.

_y/n_ was grateful that Aaron let her walk to her own room. As much as she liked Hotch’s touch and gentle care he had when he had carried her, she had her dignity and desire to still be able to care for herself. In her room, Aaron looked over at her bed. _y/n_ didn’t even care as she pulled off her blazer, slipped off her shoes, and laid back on the bed. While she was doing this, Aaron turned off the overhead light and turned on a lamp instead. He puttered with the air conditioning so that it wasn’t freezing, but not too hot either. He then moved to the window messing with the curtains even though the blackout curtain and decorative curtain were clearly closed. Hotch did this because he didn’t know what to say. Finally, _y/n_ called him. It was a voice she had rarely used with him. It was vulnerable, needy, scared even? When Aaron looked at _y/n_ he saw the desire in her face, a look that must have been the one he had on his own face as he covered her body on the freezing road, and as he carried her to the bench just a few minutes earlier. Aaron was drawn to her and sat on the edge of the bed as _y/n_ said, “Aaron. I like you. I have for a long time. I’m sorry if this fucks everything up between us, and I’m sorry that it took me so long to say anything. But I have to say something.” At this, she stopped and looked at him concerned that she might have ruined everything. Aaron leaned forward, ran his left hand through her hair again, and rested his forehead against hers. He felt such a reprieve at her words. He closed his eyes and said, “I like you too, _y/n_. I’ve been a coward about my feelings and your still here being brave after everything that’s happened to you this month. For a few minutes, I thought I’d lost you and I’m never going to let that happen again. At least where I can. I want to be with you.” _y/n_ gave a little hum and placed a hand on his chest. Knowing that she wasn’t delusional for desiring Aaron suddenly made all her pain seem to fade into the background. His breath on her face was comforting, and she opened her eyes a bit. She shifted up a bit and gave his mouth a peck. At this, Hotch opened his eyes. He gave her a soft smile and moved his mouth more needily over hers. As they shared that kiss, they were both grateful for the other. For the comfort that was to be had now and in the future. There was a lot to be said later, but for now, their love and lips said everything that needed to be at the moment. _y/n_ closed her eyes and let the moment linger. _y/n_’s hand found its way to his chest, placed it over his heart, and felt its steady beat under her palm. _y/n_ closed her eyes and as they continued to kiss, she was certain that she would know anywhere. No matter how they were challenged and pulled, she would always know and love him, and this was just the start of that journey.

______________________________________________________________

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nicoline1998enilocin · 10 months

Text

Interesting

PAIRING | Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.2K

SUMMARY | Bucky wasn't much of a talker before he met you, and he usually doesn't talk until you enter the room he's in. One day, Sam calls him out on his behavior, and he tells him that you're the only one who is actually worth listening to in the Compound.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Light swearing, 2 idiots in love who won’t see it until it’s pointed out to them.

A/N | If you want to send in a request for Bucky fics (either fluff/smut/angst), please don’t hesitate to drop them in my inbox! I’d love to see what you all think about when you think of Bucky! Thank you in advance 🖤

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

You have been holed up in your room for the entire afternoon because you're trying to get your wardrobe sorted out. You've been wanting to do this for a while, and there was no better day than the rainy Sunday you have found yourself currently enjoying. You got some music playing on your tv filling the space with some Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, and Panic! At The Disco to give you the boost of energy you need to see it through to the end. You're usually known to abandon things like this halfway, but you were sure today would be different, and now you're almost at the end. You promised Nat and Wanda that as soon as you were done they could search through it and pick out the clothes they want, the rest of it will go to Goodwill and be used for people who need them.

It took you only 15 more minutes before the pile on your bed was almost too big and threatening to topple over, but you stopped right on time. You knew Nat and Wanda would be in the living room so you walked over there. They were in conversation with Steve and Sam, Bucky was there too but he was just reading a book in a comfy chair in the corner. As soon as you walk into the living room Bucky looks up from his book and acknowledges you. ''Hi doll, it's good to see you again! We almost thought you had escaped or something,'' he said with a wink and you just laughed at his comment. ''No, just sorting my clothes is all! How's your book?'' you ask and he proceeds to tell you all about this book he's been reading.

You sit on the arm of the chair he's currently sitting in as the two of you have an entire conversation about the book, since it's one of the thrillers you've recommended to him and he's been hooked on it since the beginning. What the two of you failed to notice, however, is that the entire room had gone quiet, because they hadn't heard Bucky say a single word ever since they walked in and they asked if it was okay to join him. He just gave him a grunt in response, and they were completely flabbergasted at the fact that he could in fact talk. He just kept rambling on and on about his opinions, until Sam cleared his throat and both of you looked at him.

''Really? You're talking to her like you've not seen each other for weeks, but we can't even get a hello?!'' he says with a scowl as he looks at Bucky. ''I was just reading, it's no big deal. I was just invested is all,'' he says but everyone knows that wasn't exactly convincing. Steve is the only one who knows what's going on but he won't tell anyone, because Bucky told him about his feelings towards you in secret. Bucky never told anyone about Steve's feelings for Natasha either, so they knew they could 100% trust each other, even though this was making it slightly more obvious. ''Alright, you keep telling yourself that while I go make myself a cup of coffee,'' Sam says as he stands up, walking towards the kitchen.

This time you turned to Nat and Wanda, who were still looking at you and Bucky in disbelief. ''Did you two still want to go rummage through my clothes or-'' you say and before you can finish your sentence you are pulled away by the girls to your room, barely able to say goodbye to Bucky and Steve. ''See you guys!'' is all you get out before you're out of earshot. ''Could you please slow down? I'm not wearing shoes and the floor is slippery!'' you say and they finally do, but only when the three of you have reached your room.

''Spill it, now!'' Nat demands, but you have no clue what she's getting at. You look at her with a confused face, and then to Wanda in the hopes she would explain what's going on with Nat. ''W-what do you mean?'' you ask with hesitation clear in your voice. ''You and Bucky, what's going on between the two of you? He hasn't said a single word since we walked in, and right when you walk in he's talking like there's an endless stream of thoughts coming out of his mouth,'' she says and you blush. Is your crush on the super soldier that obvious? ''Nothing is going on, I swear! I didn't even know he didn't say anything to you, I assumed he was just busy with his book and happened to look up when I walked in...'' you say as a blush creeps up your cheeks and down your neck.

''I swear, nothing is going on! Now can the two of you just go through my clothes? That way I can still bring the rest to Goodwill before they close today,'' you tell them and they do, steering the conversation to your clothes as they try it on, and almost the entire pile is shared between the two girls. The rest of it goes into some trash bags and you're on your way to the parking garage when you're suddenly stopped by Bucky. ''Here, let me help you,'' he says and you gladly accept. When they're loaded into your car he offers to go with you and you happily agree. ''Shall we get some coffee before heading back to the Compound?'' he asks and you nod, that would be nice, especially with this rainy weather.

A few weeks have passed and there have been a few more incidents like the one when you walked into the living room, tonight would be no different. Tony invited everyone out to a bar to celebrate your last mission which happened to be a huge success, but you would be joining everyone later since you were having dinner with an old friend first. All the other Avengers were already at the bar, and Bucky was staring at the door as if it would run away if he didn't keep his gaze locked onto it constantly. ''You know she won't be coming in here any time soon, leave the door alone already,'' Sam sighs, but Bucky doesn't listen.

You decided to go for an edgy yet casual outfit today, perfect for the weather outside right now. Fall has finally arrived in New York and as much as you love the colder weather, it was also nice to be somewhere warm with all your colleagues and friends. You said your goodbyes to Ava as you walked into the bar, and she walked the rest of her way home. The little bell above the door went off and with it, Bucky's facial expression completely changed. ''You've got the be kidding me,'' Sam mumbled under his breath but Bucky didn't pay attention, all he had eyes for is you. ''Hi, guys! Sorry I'm late,'' you say as you sit down on the bar stool next to Bucky. Of course, he saved it for you so you could sit next to him.

''How was dinner with Ava?'' Bucky asked and you told everyone all about her, how the two of you met, some crazy antics the two of you have gotten into, and of course dinner tonight. She recently got engaged and she wanted to tell you in person, you couldn't be happier for her. Bucky had made sure to get your favorite drink in the meantime, and you were gladly sipping on it. ''So, did I miss anything while I was gone?'' you ask. ''This one-'' Sam put his hand on Bucky's shoulder when he said that, ''- was staring the door down as if it was going to fall off its hinges if he didn't,'' he says and you laugh loudly. Bucky would never get enough of hearing that laugh.

''Really? Did you miss me that much?'' you say and he immediately blushes, trying to hide behind his long hair. You let it go and the evening was filled with more drinks you and Bucky were constantly talking with each other, leaving the rest of the team to fend for themselves. ''Okay, this is getting out of hand. Buck, you're acting weird and I've had enough of it,'' Sam started, Bucky looking confused in his direction. ''What are-,'' ''You know damn well what I'm talking about. Whenever you're hanging out with us you barely talk, but whenever Y/N walks in you talk everyone's ear off! Just tell her you like her already so we don't have to keep doing this!'' he raised his voice and the red color Bucky was sporting before, has turned to a deep red at this point, and was creeping down his neck and chest.

''Sam, stop,'' he begs, but of course, Sam doesn't stop there. ''It's so obvious you two have feelings for each other, so why won't the two of you just admit it already? It's killing us for fuck sake!'' he yelled and that's when you had enough. ''Stop it! Just stop! I can't help it that Bucky and I get along great, that we have similar interests, and that he's fun to be around. But you don't have to attack him like this, he doesn't deserve that! Why can't you just be happy that he has made a friend? Someone who he feels comfortable with besides Steve? Is there something wrong with me that I can't be his friend or something?!'' you raise your voice this time and tears are burning in the corners of your eyes.

''That's not what I meant, Y/N. There's nothing wrong with you,'' Sam said but you had enough of this. ''Just leave me alone, I have had enough of this shit. I'm going home and I don't want to see any of you right now,'' you say and you get up, storming out of the bar and on your way to the Compound. ''You happy now, asshole?!'' Bucky snarls at Sam who does feel guilty for making you leave like that. ''And for the record, I only act like that around her because she's the only one who's worth listening to in the Compound,'' Bucky said before getting up and leaving too, going after you.

The bar was close to the Compound so you were there before Bucky was, and you had wrapped yourself in your comforter like a burrito so you could just be alone with your feelings. Bucky knocks softly on your bedroom door, hoping you're in there. ''Doll? Are you in there?'' he asks, but you don't answer. ''If you are, please open the door. I just want to talk to you,'' he says. ''Go away,'' you say, but of course, he doesn't. ''Doll, please, I want to explain something,'' he says and you unwrap yourself to open the door. ''Fine,'' you sigh as you go lay down in your bed, rolling yourself up in the same position as before. Bucky lets out a soft chuckle at the sight of a Y/N burrito.

''If you came here to laugh, you can leave again,'' you said sharply and he immediately stopped. ''No, I'm sorry. But I wanted to confess something, because Sam was right earlier, at the bar. I was staring at the door, wanting to see you walk in because you always manage to lift my mood without even trying,'' he starts, and you don't say anything and just listen to what he has to say. ''It's because I do indeed have feelings for you, I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember, and I enjoy being in your presence,'' he says and with that, you turn around, facing him. ''A-Are you in love with me?'' you ask, not sure what to think of it.

''I am, that's why I just feel so comfortable talking to you, because when you're around I know I can be myself, and those feelings are shining through every time I see you. Steve is the only one I told, but I guess Sam must've picked up on it somewhere,'' Bucky sighs, and you sit up. You sit next to Bucky on the edge of your bed, leaning your head onto his shoulder and enjoying his warmth right now. ''Would you believe me if I tell you I've been in love with you as well?'' you say softly, a small smile playing on your lips. ''Yeah, I would,'' he said, and he puts 2 fingers under your chin, guiding your face to his.

He plants a soft, loving kiss on your lips and the two of you don't move for a little while, even when your lips aren't touching anymore. ''I've been thinking about doing that for a long time,'' Bucky said and you laughed. ''Me too,'' you say before placing another kiss on his lips this time. ''Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me, doll?'' Bucky asks and your face almost splits open into a wide grin as you nod. ''Nothing would make me happier than that, Bucky!'' you say as you wrap your arms around each other, laying down on the bed together in a tangle of limbs as you cuddle for a while. The comfortable silence makes way for a deep slumber, as both of you fall asleep listening to the sound of each other's heartbeats.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff

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corinthianism · 4 months

Text

everything has changed | dean winchester (1)

pairing: dean winchester/f!reader additional tags: reverse isekai, fluff, crack, meet cute, slight angst

summary: once again, dean lands in the reality where he’s just a fictional character played by jensen ackles. it’s annoying the hell out of him and he just wants to go back home, until he doesn’t.

masterlist | next chapter | ao3

CHAPTER ONE: A SIMPLE NAME

Today was supposed to be a normal day. It was your day off and you were on your way to check out a new shop that had opened downtown. They sold a bunch of fandom merchandise, which wasn’t special or anything, but you were hoping they had a nice keychain that you could clip onto your bag. The paint on your old green lightsaber keychain had flaked off, leaving behind an ugly gray rod of steel instead of Luke Skywalker’s iconic weapon.

The shop wasn’t far; in fact, you could’ve walked it, so you did. It was nice out today, and it was one of the rare opportunities you had to actually get out and get some sun, what with work eating up all of your hours. You’d barely made it a few blocks when you noticed a man lying face-down on the ground, his cheek smushed directly against the hot concrete.

You panicked, not sure if you should rush in and help or run away. Very far away. While you were busy in your own head, the guy in question rolled to his side, revealing a very familiar face.

No fucking way.

“Jensen Ackles?”

Jensen groaned, pushing himself up from the ground, “What’d you say, lady?”

You swallowed and repeated what you said, “You’re Jensen Ackles, right? The actor?”

The man in front of you was no doubt Jensen Ackles, from the green eyes to the freckles that were dusted all over his nose and cheeks. It’d been years since the media last heard about him; him and Jared Padalecki basically shut down Supernatural when they quit out of the blue, after Misha Collins was murdered. Their representatives all said the same thing: that they were just having a hard time mourning their friend and that they needed to take some time away from the limelight.

But neither of them came back or at least, no one had heard from them since. Until now, that is. And for some reason, Jensen was all dressed up as Dean.

“No, I’m… Goddamn,” he winced as he tried to stand up, clutching his side with one hand. When you approached him to help him get up, you saw the crimson liquid that oozed from underneath his clothes and all over his hand. “I’m… I’m fine, lady, don’t worry about it.”

“Jesus Christ!” you staggered back at the sight of blood, the starstruck feeling suddenly replaced by shock. “You are not fine, dude, you need to go to a hospital!”

“No, I don’t,” his voice was gruff, more so than when you heard him in person the last time there was a Supernatural convention. That was years ago, back when you were still in braces and listening to Panic! at the Disco. Now, he sported a somewhat-noticeable Midwestern accent and asked you question after question that you weren’t really processing, all while keeping a mostly straight face despite his heavily bleeding wound. He spoke again, “What year is it?”

The question was odd enough to finally snap you out of staring at the bloodied patch on his jacket and out of your inevitable freak-out, “What?”

“I said,” he planted his feet firmly on the ground. “What year is it?”

“It’s… 2024?” you raised a brow, but your primary concern was getting him somewhere safe so he could be patched up. “Sir, I think you need to get some help.”

He fully ignored you, opting to instead frantically look around and march away to God-knows-where. You weren’t sure what to do except follow him, worried that the wound on his side was much worse than it looked. Judging from how much blood there was, it had to be deep. Probably a stab wound.

You really didn’t wanna think about it.

Following Jensen led you to a newspaper and tabloid stand, with him haphazardly flicking through today’s newspaper to find whatever it was he needed to find. You debated on whether or not you were gonna call 911 because of the wound, but he seemed entirely unaffected, or if he was, he did a good job of not showing it.

You both just stood there for a few minutes, and you couldn’t help but notice how he became more aggravated the more he read through the papers.

“Um, sir?” you cleared your throat, trying desperately to calm the panic rising in your chest.

He didn’t listen.

“Mr. Ackles… can—” you took a deep breath, “—can you please calm down and tell me what’s going on? Sir?”

He only frowned even more, clenching his jaw as he tried to absorb the words on the pages, instead of listening to you. Christ, this man was stubborn. Not at all what you thought he’d be. Then again, celebrities weren’t your friends.

You were getting frustrated, too. Then, an idea struck. You weren’t sure if it was going to work, it was stupid as hell, but you had to try.

“Dean?” you said the name softly.

He finally looked at you, though in all honesty, it was more like a side-eye. But it was something, so you kept going.

“Dean,” the name felt weird on your tongue as you repeated it. You were calling an actor by his character’s name. Who does that? “Can you please tell me what’s going on? I only want to help.”

“Sweetheart,” he gave you this big charming smile which you could only assume was a bit mocking.

“Dean…” you returned the favor, saying his name as sweetly as you could but the pettiness in your tone vanished as soon as you saw him wince again in pain. It would’ve been easier to let him go and to just go home, but you couldn’t leave him alone like this. He didn’t seem to have a car or even a working phone. “You’re clearly hurt. Please, just let me help.”

He let out a sigh of defeat, accepting that yes, maybe he needed some help, “If you want to help… where’s the nearest burger joint? And do you have a first aid kit?”

So there you were, sharing a burger with Jensen Ackles, except he only answered to the name Dean. You led him to a small diner, which was becoming increasingly rare in the area. The sign outside spelled out SMITH’S BREAKFAST DINER in a retro font, though the lights didn’t work anymore. The place had been operating since the late 80s, and never really got around to keeping up with the trends. Regardless, you kept coming back. They had good food, good music, and Suzanne always called you “darlin’” in a sweet Southern accent every time you came in for a quick bite.

You chewed your burger slowly, your mind wandering to the crazy possibility that you were actually sitting in front of Dean Winchester, not Jensen Ackles. If that was the case, you hoped the diner would bring him some comfort. From what you saw in the show, him and Sam always frequented places like these. The thought that he might actually be the character and not the actor was still so insane, to the point where you couldn’t even really enjoy your food like you normally would.

He was also munching on his burger, shamelessly groaning in delight. His eyes were even closed… which was definitely a good thing because you’d been staring at him the whole time. It took him less than two minutes to chow the whole thing down.

You knew some people who’d met Jensen at conventions, back when those were still a thing. They always said he was nice and considerate, and all that. Or that he smelled nice. Sitting here in front of him, there was only one thing that was stuck in your head.

This man, whoever he was, Jensen or Dean… he was incredibly attractive. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was, he looked like he needed help and honestly? You didn’t really know why you wanted to help. Perhaps you just had nothing better to do. Maybe it was something deeper than that. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to have “saved a celebrity” on your resumé.

“Dean” took a big gulp of the Coca-Cola in front of him, letting out a refreshed sigh. Then, without warning, he pulled out whatever was lodged in his side. The suddenness of his movement, combined with his pained groan, startled you. A few of the other patrons of the diner cast confused looks your way, which you tried to play off with a nervous smile.

A sharp clunk caught your attention and when you looked back at the table, there was a bloody shard of glass right next to your iced tea.

“What the fuck?!” you whisper-yelled, quickly covering up the glass with some napkins before someone else could see it. You turned your attention back to “Dean”, who was taking a few breaths to calm himself down as he began discretely disinfecting his wound. You wanted to be mad, you really wanted to, but your fourteen year old self would scream at you if you did not help this man. And the way he flinched every now and then as the hydrogen peroxide pricked at his wound certainly earned him some pity points.

“So… uh, do I really call you Dean?” you started lamely instead of reprimanding him for his callousness, still trying to wrap your head around the possibility that this might really be Dean Winchester. “Like the guy from Supernatural?”

He groaned at the mention of Supernatural, briefly stopping his movements to cast an unimpressed look at you, “Yes, you call me Dean, ‘cause it’s my name, lady.”

You steeled yourself as he went back to treating his wound, “Yeah, well, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

Dean stopped again, his brows relaxing into a more neutral yet somber expression, as if you’d just hit him with a sobering truth, “...Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”

The two of you simmered in an awkward silence for a few moments.

“I just want to help,” you spoke first, trying your best to convey your sincerity to him, “but if you are who I think you are then I understand why you might be hesitant to clue me in on what’s going on.”

“And who do you think I am, exactly?” he spared you an intrigued glance, unflinching as the needle pierced his skin.

You popped a fry in your month, chewing slowly as you eyed him up and down, “Well, I doubt Jensen Ackles would get himself injured like that and walk around in broad daylight where the paparazzi could see him and say all sorts of things. Dean Winchester, on the other hand…”

He shifted in his seat to fully face you, a smirk playing across his lips.

“So what? You’re just gonna believe that I'm Dean Winchester?” he raised a brow, squinting his eyes at you accusingly as if to test you. You had to give it to him, it made you waver in your belief, but you stayed firm.

“Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,” you offered with a small smile, feeling that the quote described your thought process pretty well. It made you feel smart in the moment, even if you knew full well that it was your teenage self’s delusions resurfacing.

He nodded in understanding and laughed, “Ha! Nice Velma quote.”

You were the one to raise a brow this time, “It’s a Sherlock quote.”

“Oh,” his smile faltered. He cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze out of embarrassment, “...Yeah. Yeah, I knew that. Totally.”

You held in your laughter, biting your lip as you watched the faintest blush spread across his freckled cheeks. The moment sizzled out after a while, leaving you two in a semi-comfortable silence. You noticed how guarded he was, sneaking a glance at you every now and then as he patched up his wound. You understood why; he didn’t wanna be vulnerable in a room where it was only the two of you, so as weird as it was to have a man bleeding out in a breakfast diner, it was still much safer.

It wasn’t like he was the only one with doubts. For all you know, Jensen Ackles had just gone crazy after Misha Collins died. Same thing might’ve happened to Jared Padalecki. You still wondered what on Earth happened to them, but there was something about the man in front of you that made you feel safe. Your first instinct was to trust him, and that had never happened before. It scared you.

Whatever it was, you just had to give this a shot. Maybe it was the feeling that this whole thing was a lot bigger than you could’ve ever imagined.

“What will you do after this?” you asked him, eyeing the needle in his hand.

The question seemed to upset him, even if he was trying his best to hide it. Something shifted in his gaze, his resolve seemingly faltering for a split second. It only intrigued you even more, getting caught up in his every little move like he was a movie you’ve never seen before.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” he offered you a tight-lipped smile, finishing off the stitch with a secured knot, “I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

That answer didn’t make you feel any better. Then, something clicked into place.

When Misha Collins was murdered a few years ago, a “script” for Supernatural was leaked by someone on Tumblr. It spread like wildfire then and you remembered the amount of hate comments the poster got. People assumed it was a weird fanfic to explain how Misha died since the case was never solved and for the longest time, people just stuck with that. A chill ran down your spine as you tried to recall what was in that leaked script.

Sam and Dean were sent to the “real” world by Balthazar using a spell. They were being chased by some angel whose name you couldn’t remember. Misha was killed while the brothers ran away from the angel. You racked your brain to figure out the last piece of the puzzle.

“Wait…” you started, doubt blocking you from saying the rest of the sentence. It was crazy, fucking insane, but if your Supernatural knowledge was as solid as you thought it was, then there was only one explanation for his sudden but subtle change in demeanor. “Please don’t tell me you’re stuck here.”

The frown on his face told you everything you needed to know. He was stuck here until someone from his home universe managed to bring him back.

“Oh my fucking god.”

He chuckled, “Right on the money there, sweetheart.”

“I shouldn’t be believing you just like that. Why am I believing you? You’re not real. I’m going crazy,” you said out loud, half of it going towards yourself and the other half going towards him. “Monsters aren’t real. Hunters aren’t a thing—”

He frowned, “Hey, I know we got off to a bad start but you can’t just be saying that I’m not real.”

“Prove it to me, then,” you hardened your gaze. “Prove to me that you’re Dean Winchester.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said.”

“Dean” sighed, shifting in his seat so that he was sitting a bit more upright and was fully facing you. Then, he tugged down on the collar of his shirt, revealing a very real anti-possession tattoo on his chest. It was blurred around the edges a little bit, having faded with time. A small gasp left your lips as you took it all in.

“That’s…” you looked back up at “Dean” and for the first time, you noticed how much older he was compared to the last time you saw him. Or the last time you saw Jensen Ackles. His wrinkles were deeper, his eyes more tired. There were a few tiny scars littered across his face, nearly invisible if you weren’t watching them so closely. His mousy brown hair had a few grey strands that poked out, as well as some grey peppered around his clean five ‘o clock shadow.

He chuckled once he saw your shocked expression, tapping on the tattoo, “Yeah. Got this bad boy in 2007. Probably saved my ass more times than I can count.”

“What do I even say to that?” you stared at him dumbly.

He realized that you were right. As weird as it was for him to be in a world without monsters and magic, it was probably weirder for you to find out that the world from a TV show was real. He smacked his lips and avoided your gaze, “Um. Yeah. Weird, I know.”

“Weirder than weird, dude,” you sighed, wiping your face with your hands. “I mean, I wanna help, but how the hell am I supposed to help you? You fight like… demons and vampires and stuff. I work from home! On my laptop!”

He looked back at you, smiling awkwardly as you had a mini-existential crisis, “I just, um… Do you have some cash? I got like, twenty bucks in my wallet right now. I just need to get to a motel and you’re never gonna have to see me again.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best way to console a woman in the middle of an existential crisis, but to be fair, the sooner he was gone, the sooner you could get back to your life.

He put back all of the stuff he used from your first aid kit back into its bag, pushing it towards you as he wiped his hands clean with a tissue. He called for Suzanne with a smile, his charm dialed up to a hundred, “Hey, sweetheart, can you pack this up for me? Thanks.”

“Oh, sure thing, sugar,” she beamed at him, before leaning towards you to not-so-quietly whisper, “You done good, hon. Your date right here is such a looker!”

Dean only chuckled lightheartedly at her comment. Suzanne sashayed away with a satisfied giggle, and you had to fight the urge to explode right then and there. You couldn’t believe what was happening to you right now.

You mustered up the courage to speak again, “He shot you a curious look, “What?”

“I…” you deflated. “You can stay at my place. I’m sure I have some clothes there that can fit you.”

“Sweetheart, I appreciate the offer but it’s not safe. Something could’ve come back with me, for all I know,” he leaned back against the faux leather. “I don’t wanna lead it right to you.”

“You’ll keep me safe,” you affirmed, moreso to yourself than to him. “And I’ll sleep better at night knowing you’re comfortable and fed and not in a motel in the middle of nowhere. You don’t have your brother with you.”

He nearly forgot that you knew a lot about him because of Supernatural, scoffing a bit at your words, “What am I? A child?”

“No, you’re a hunter and I’m not,” you reminded him. “I can’t fight against anything that decides to break into my home, but you can. It’s not just about you, I already shot myself in the foot by staying with you this long. Granted, I thought you were some actor who’d gone crazy but—”

“I get it, I get it,” he took a deep breath in, cutting you off. He processed your words, feeling a sense of protectiveness wash over him. It was still risky, yeah, but he couldn’t think of a counterargument. You were right, you were a civilian and if there was something that came after you, it was unlikely you’d survive. “Okay then. You got a deal then, lady.”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, “Well then, I guess we’re roommates, Winchester.”

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

author's note: and that concludes the first chapter of everything has changed! unlike last kiss, i won't be publishing all the chapters all in one go (since i'm still writing them), so please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments! of course, reblogs are much always appreciated. see y'all for chapter two <3 p.s. should i start a taglist? let me know as well!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #fem reader #supernatural #reader insert #supernatural fanfic #spn #spn fanfic #jensen ackles

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