Hiyah, bonjour, Namaste My names Britney and you see what you get and thats about it i dont care what comments you have about me because im simply just being me i want to change the world and we can do that by little things everyday Well anyway enjoy :)
please read this even if you're not indian. especially if you're not indian.
you've seen the jokes. india is "dirty", indians are "everywhere", why don't they fix their own country. ok. let me tell you why, and what's happening right now while nobody's watching.
first, the history you skipped: britain ruled india for two centuries and drained it. economist utsa patnaik's research estimates around $45 trillion in today's money was taken. the india that got independence in 1947 was one of the poorest countries on earth. every "why is india like this" question starts there. you don't get to profit off a robbery and then mock the crime scene.
now, what's happening RIGHT NOW:
in may the question paper for NEET leaked. that's the national medical entrance exam. over 2.2 million students took it. cancelled. years of studying, families' savings poured into coaching, gone overnight because someone sold the paper. students died by suicide after. these were kids who wanted to be doctors.
and out of that came a protest movement. a gen z group called the cockroach janta party, started by a 30 year old named abhijeet dipke, got 22 million instagram followers within DAYS. they've been doing a sit-in at jantar mantar in delhi demanding education minister dharmendra pradhan resign.
and then there's sonam wangchuk. if you've watched 3 idiots, he's the real engineer the character was based on. built solar schools in ladakh. invented ice stupas so himalayan villages have water. spent his whole life on education. he's 59 and he's been on hunger strike for 17+ days now. reporters went to see him this week and he was too weak to talk. and the troll armies are calling him "anti national" and "foreign funded". a man starving himself for other people's children. that's the thing here, anyone who asks a question is suddenly a traitor.
it's not one incident, it's everywhere you look:
âą infrastructure worth thousands of crores failing within months of the ribbon cutting. tunnels collapsing in regions where heavy rain is a guarantee, not a surprise.
âą youth unemployment near 10% for ages 15 to 29, 13.6% in cities. in a country of 1.42 billion where more than half the population is young.
âą only about the top 3% of indians earn above 10 lakh a year. meanwhile billionaire wealth keeps ballooning and the headlines celebrate it.
âą manipur burned for over two years. an ethnic conflict, tens of thousands displaced, and the prime minister barely said the word manipur while it happened.
âą journalists raided. critics' houses bulldozed. activists sitting in jail for years without trial under laws like UAPA. our press freedom ranking has cratered.
âą even the petrol is a fight now, ethanol blending pushed through while drivers complain about their engines and get no straight answers.
and through all of it, the PM, who came to power on religious polarisation (americans, sound familiar?), travels abroad for photo ops and has not held one single open press conference in over a decade. not one.
what i'm asking:
if you're not indian: share this. our media mostly won't cover any of it because the big outlets are owned by the same billionaires the government serves. the only reason wangchuk's fast is getting any coverage is people refusing to look away.
if you ARE indian: speak up even if you're comfortable. especially if you're comfortable. join the protests. add to this, correct me, translate it. staying quiet is a choice when nothing in this post touches your life.
india is not "dirty". india was robbed, and it's being robbed again, from the inside this time. but it's also the country where a 59 year old will starve for strangers' kids and 22 million young people will rally behind a party literally named after cockroaches, because cockroaches survive everything.
everyone has something to hide | frank castle x reader
author's note: hi guys! this story loosely, VERY loosely follows some events of season one of the punisher! this story does have a good ending, but there is talk of abusive relationships and torture as well. if there are any warnings that you think should be added that aren't, please don't hesitate to reach out. I hope you guys enjoy this story, and any feedback, notes, reposts, and comments are much appreciated. thank you so so so much! <3 <3
summary: you are sarah lieberman's friend and neighbor for the past year and a half. before he died, david helped you get away from your abusive ex, and just when you start adjusting to your new life, he shows back up. who else to save you but the new man sarah hit with her car who you've grown close to, pete or is it frank?
warnings: abusive relationship, held hostage, torture, knives, guns, emotional and physical abuse, unaliving, mentions of su!c!de, smut, 18+ MDNI!!!
word count: 13.6k
"You did what?" you asked with your jaw wide open as you held the phone close to your ear.
"I know, I know." Sarah sighs, closing her eyes and rubbing her hand down her face.
"How did you hit someone with your car? Did he appear out of nowhere? Were you distracted?" you asked as you paced around your living room, trying to think of all the possibilities that caused your sweet friend Sarah to hit a random person turning into her own driveway.
"I-I don't even know how to answer that. I didn't even see him! I was just coming back home when all of a sudden I felt a thud, and coffee was sprayed all over my windshield. It was bad, Y/N." You couldn't help the chuckle of disbelief that came out as Sarah explained what happened. "It's not funny, I didn't think I hit him that hard until I got out of the car and he had blood dripping down the side of his head," Sarah sorrowed.
"Holy shit, Sarah, I'm sorry that happened. I know it's been a lot this past year with David and everything. Iâm sure that was probably the last thing you needed," you said sympathetically.
The past year had been hard for Sarah; her husband David mysteriously died at the hands of the government for something he did, all you knew was that he did something brave. David was a good man who helped you out when you needed it a year and a half ago. He was able to give you a new last name, a new address, and, more importantly, a new life free from your abusive ex. It was a sad day for you, too, when David died, but you knew you'd help Sarah out with anything she needed.
"That's not even the worst part," Sarah sighed. You sat down when you heard her tone shift more seriously. "When I invited him to give him a new cup of coffee, he asked about David, and I didn't know how to respond. All he asked was what he does for work, and I didn't know whether to lie that he's still here or to tell the truth."
"That's the most normal response you could have had. It's a random man you just met in your home who unknowingly asks the worst question about your husband, who happened to pass away a year ago. It sounds like you handled it the best you could have, Sarah." You reassured her.
"But, I didn't," Sarah groans. "I ended up talking like David was still here and then admitted to lying about him being alive-" she abruptly stops as you hear her breathe heavier.
"Sarah, I'm coming over, okay? I promise you didn't do anything wrong, and it's not like you have to see him every day or ever again after your insurances work it out." You say as you get up to put your shoes on to make your way over to her house. That's one nice thing about living down the street from Sarah, you don't even have to drive over.
"No, Y/N, it's okay, you don't have to come over. He's actually still he-" you cut her off from making excuses to stop you, zoning her out as you went to grab your keys before you left.
"Oh, oh, you hear that, Sarah?" you ask as you hold your phone to your door as you lock it, "I already locked the door, and would you look at that, I'm outside! So I'm coming over, sorry!" You hear her talk over you as you act like you're losing signal and hang up the phone.
You make your way over to her house, and as you go to walk up her driveway, you notice someone in their garage. Great, of all things to happen today, I doubt what Sarah needs is some jackass breaking into their garage.
You make your way up her driveway, trying to figure out who it could be. "Um, excuse me, what do you think you're doing? I don't think the family that lives here would be appreciative of some dumbass breaking into their garage." You firmly say as you fold your arms across your chest. You can clearly see that it's a man with slightly curly, medium-length brown hair.
He slowly gets up, as you imagine he can feel the daggers you're shooting into his back. He still hasn't turned around as your patience wears thin.
"Listen, I think it'd be best if you just got out of here, and maybe I won't call the cops-" you're interrupted by Sarah as she comes running out of the house.
"Y/N, Y/N, it's okay! This is Pete, the guy I hit like two hours ago! He's not a burglar." You're facing Sarah as she makes her way towards you. "He's just trying to fix the garage door that decided not to open all the way." She's standing next to you when you comprehend who exactly the mystery man is. Pete. Not a random burglar.
You turn back towards him to apologize for the outburst, but any attempt to speak has disappeared since you're able to clearly look at him now as he faces you. He's handsome and more muscular than you originally thought from your first glance. Your eyes unwillingly look him up and down as you struggle to apologize for assuming he was robbing Sarah.
"Oh, Pete! I am so sorry for assuming you were here for nefarious reasons when you were just being helpful," you ramble. "I'm Y/N, Sarah's friend and neighbor, right down the street. I'm sure you can understand me being on edge after Sarah called me and told me she hit someone with her car in her driveway. I'm rambling, sorry." You awkwardly cut yourself off as you look to him.
He lets out a chuckle as he uses a torn rag to wipe his hands off any grease that may have transferred from the garage. "It's okay, I understand. I'm Pete Castiglione." He held out his hand for you to shake.
Your soft hand meets his rough and calloused one as you greet him. Your eyes look up to meet his as he gives you a smile. You feel your cheeks immediately go red as you release his hand.
"Nice to meet you." You quickly look to Sarah and then back to Pete, "I heard you got hit pretty hard with your coffee going all over the windshield." He laughs as he looks at the ground and back at you.
"Yeah, as hard as someone can get hit at five miles per hour. I wasn't paying attention and just happened to walk right in front. Totally my fault. Sarah was kind enough to give me another cup of coffee." Pete explains.
"And now I'm using him to fix my garage." Sarah laughs, "I don't see how this works out evenly for you, Pete," she says as she realizes he's the one helping her when she hit him.
"It's nothing at all, really. I've fixed plenty of things. Just thought I could help Sarah out since I'm already here." Pete says as the rag he holds flails around.
"That's sweet," you say as you make eye contact with him and hold it for a couple of seconds.
Sarah looks between you and Pete before she clears her throat, "Alright, well, I'm going to start getting dinner ready. Pete, you are more than welcome to stay. I can't thank you enough for your help today." Sarah sincerely states.
"It's really no problem. I'd hate to intrude. I'm almost done with the garage, and then I'll head out, but thank you." Pete's head lowers as he declines. You can't help but marvel at him as he rejects Sarah's offer. He had been hit by a car and was now fixing Sarah's garage. Who was this man?
"Okay, well, don't be a stranger, Pete." Sarah pleads when she wraps her arm around mine. "Actually, do you mind coming over sometime this week to sign a release form? It basically just says that you won't sue me if you suddenly have chronic back pain years down the road." She asks, but Pete is already agreeing before she finishes explaining.
"Of course, I don't mind at all." Pete agrees. Sarah nods her head in thanks as she starts turning us around to walk back to the house.
"It was really nice meeting you, Pete. If you need anything and Sarah isn't home, my house is the last one on the right on this street." You smile warmly.
Pete smiles back, "Thank you." He says as he nods his head. You look back at him one more time before heading into the house with Sarah, and he gives you a wave goodbye. You blush as you chuckle to yourself.
Sarah unwraps herself from your arm to open the door into the house. As soon as you step in, you shut the door by backing into it and closing your eyes.
"Sarah, he is cute. Why didn't you mention that over the phone? I would have driven my car over here and hit him myself." Sarah laughs as she takes in my beet-red face.
"I'm sorry! I don't really pay attention to that stuff, really, but you are right, he is cute. And a good guy. I mean, fixing my garage door when I hit him? Who does that?" Sarah exasperates.
"I don't know, but I am glad you hit him. You need to let me know the next time he's over, or maybe I'll just stay here every day," you whisper as you start planning your week out.
"Look at you, you're practically a teenager again!" Sarah lovingly points out.
You smile to yourself, but it slowly falls when you remember how your last relationship ended. "The idea of it is nice, but it's never going to happen. I'm not sure if I'm ready for a relationship." You slowly stand up and walk over to stand across from Sarah at her island.
"Y/N, relax. You just met him, and who knows if he's actually going to come back. He could leave after fixing my garage and never return. You don't have to get yourself worked up." You nod your head, coming back to your senses.
"You're right, I don't even know why I started thinking that to begin with." You weakly chuckle. Sarah stops what she's doing and grabs your hands.
"And when you are ready for something like that, I am here to analyze your new guy, overthink your outfit choices with you, and romanticize every new moment you have. That's all I want for you," Sarah squeezes your hands as you look up at her.
"Thank you, Sarah. I appreciate you so much," you whisper. "Now, how can I help you?" Sarah lets go of your hands as she shoos you off, not wanting you to help her make dinner.
You look out the window as Pete walks past to leave. You watch as he makes his way to the end of the driveway, turning right. You can't help but hope that this isn't the last you'll see of Pete Castiglione.
---------
It's been about three days since Sarah's freak car accident, and still no sign of Pete. To say you were disappointed was an understatement. You'd hope that at some point, Sarah would text saying he was over, but it hasn't happened.
You stood in your kitchen, chopping some vegetables to go along with your mom's famous meatloaf. It's the easiest thing to make during the winter that helps heat up your house to keep the cold out.
You notice how slowly your sink is draining and go to turn on your garbage disposal to clear anything clogging it. You flip the switch, and nothing. You wait a couple of seconds, thinking that maybe you flipped it weird, but you try again. Nothing.
You groan as you realize that you're going to have to call someone to come over to fix it, which is the last thing you want to do. You quickly place the meatloaf into the oven and set the timer for an hour. You start to look to see if there was anyone in the newspaper when you remembered how handy Leo, Sarah's daughter, is. You needed to go over to check in to see how Sarah was doing anyway.
You walk over to Sarah's house and notice her car safely parked away in her newly fixed garage. You smile softly as you think about how sweet Pete was to do that for her.
You knock once and then enter the door, seeing Sarah in the kitchen. "Hey, Sarah, where's Leo? Do you think she could come over and help me fix my garbage disposal? It stopped working for some reason." You don't notice how Sarah was engaged in a conversation when you make your way over. You stop in your tracks as you see Pete get up from the floor, assisting Leo as she stands. Your eyes widen as you take in Pete's newly shaved look.
"Your garbage disposal, too, huh?" Pete asks as he smiles at you.
"Pete, what a nice surprise," you say warmly as you feel your smile grow wide. You quickly look to Sarah as she clears her throat.
"Hey, Y/N, Pete just came over, not even ten minutes ago, and decided to help Leo with fixing the sink." Sarah's eyes go wide as she over-enunciates the ten minutes, so you know she was about to text you to come over. You give her a nod as your way to tell her you understood.
"You must have some sort of skill for knowing when something needs to be fixed," you laugh. Sarah nods her head in agreement, but Pete almost seems like he's been caught.
"Just happen to be at the right place at the right time or right place at the wrong time." He jokes as he starts to change the subject. "You said your garbage disposal wasn't working? I can head out with you to fix it." He begins, but you're already shaking your head.
"Oh no, I couldn't ask that of you, especially since you just fixed Sarah's. I know how handy Leo is, so I was just coming over to see if she wanted to make a quick buck by helping me." You smile at Leo as she walks towards you.
"I would love to make some money, but I need to do my homework, sorry, Y/N!" Leo says as she runs upstairs.
"Well, it looks like Leo's busy. Let me grab my tools, and then we can head over to fix your disposal," Pete says as he turns around to clean up the towels on the ground and place his tools back in the box.
Sarah smiles widely at you and gives you a thumbs-up. You place your head in your hands as you cover your face to hide your red-tinted cheeks.
You hear Pete get up and make your way closer to Sarah. "Do you need anything? I can bring dinner over tomorrow if that would help you out?" You offer as Sarah rubs her hand over your arm.
"Thank you, but I think I can handle dinner this week. I appreciate it, though." You smile and nod at her. "You guys should head out, it's getting late." You look at the window and see the sun still high in the sky. You look at her, confused, knowing that it's at least another hour before the sun starts to go down.
You start to protest, but Sarah cuts you off as she makes her way over to her front door. "Thank you again, Pete, for helping Leo. It would have taken her way longer by herself." He once again makes it seem like no big deal to help them out.
She opens up the front door, "Good luck fixing the disposal! I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N.," Sarah says as she ushers you both out and closes the door behind you, but not until after she gives you a quick wink.
You can't help the laugh that passes your lips, "oh gosh," you groan as you move your hand over your face. "Are you sure you're fine helping me? I'm giving you an out and will not be upset with what you decide," you say as you hold your hands up in defeat.
"No, it's the least I can do. I actually enjoy fixing things," he says as you fall into step beside each other.
"I believe you! You've fixed a garage door and a sink, all in what? A week? What's next? Well, besides my disposal, I guess," you joke as he laughs.
"You got anything else you need to fix?" He asks as he looks at you.
"I'm sure I can find something to break," you tease as you look up at him, making your way down the street. You make small conversation as you walk towards your house. "Here we are," you say as you hold the door open for Pete to enter.
He takes a look around, "what smell's so good?" He asks, as you remember the meatloaf you put in to cook while you were at Sarah's. You briskly walk towards the oven to see if you'd ruined your dinner for the next couple of days.
"That would be my mom's famous meatloaf, I know. Meatloaf can be quite controversial, but when I say this is the best meatloaf in the whole entire world, I mean that." You say as you pull it out and unwrap the foil. It was cooked perfectly with no sign of it being burnt anywhere.
Pete walks to stand across from you, "I'm sure there are worse things in the world than meatloaf." You gawk at him.
"Am I hearing a tone in your voice? Do you, Pete, not like meatloaf?" you stand with your arms crossed.
"It's a loaf of meat, I don't think you can fight with me on this," he explains as he throws his hands up.
You scoff, "Alright, I see how it is. Well, I'll change your mind by letting you have some after you fix the garbage disposal." You smile at him as he goes to inspect it.
"It's a deal. Now, let's see what the problem is." Pete looks into the sink with a flashlight to see if anything could be blocking it. You watch him take his time troubleshooting what the potential issue could be.
When he seems unsatisfied with his findings, he goes to turn it on, and once again, nothing. "That's what it is," Pete says as he turns to look at you. "Lucky for us, this is an easy fix. Since there's nothing when you flip the switch, it's the plug that's loose. It shouldn't take me long at all to fix it."
You sigh in relief that it's an easy solution, "Oh, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. I was worried I might have to call some guy in to fix it." You hear Pete begin to say something before he stops himself.
"You don't need to call a guy to fix things anymore," He says as he looks at you. You can feel the tension held between you.
You break the tension by taking a step back and clearing your throat, "Yeah, I got Leo to help me out," you say as you both erupt in laughter.
"You're right. That girl's going to be some kind of engineer in the future." He comments as he looks back towards the sink.
"Oh, tell me about it. She's one of the smartest girls I know." You say as Pete begins to get the tools he needs to fix the disposal. "How can I help? Is there a flashlight that needs to be held?" you offer, hoping he'd say yes.
Pete looks at his tools before looking back at you, "Yeah, I do actually, if you don't mind." You shake your head and make your way beside him on the floor. He hands you the flashlight as your fingers graze against one another. Your breath hitches in your throat as you smile at him.
Pete kindly explains how he's fixing your sink and going through the steps with you in case, for some reason, he can't come over to fix it. You nod your head as if you're listening, but you can't tear your eyes away from him. He's focused on what he's doing and slightly sticks his tongue between his teeth in concentration. You don't hear him ask you to move your flashlight closer, and you're only broken out of your trance when you notice him turning his head to face you. You didn't realize how close you were until now.
"I'm sorry, did you say something?" you ask quietly as your eyes move from his lips back to his eyes. He nods his head once in response.
He goes to push the hair that had fallen in your face back, but his arm gets cut on a sharp piece of metal sticking out from the sink. He lets out a groan as he recoils from under it.
It takes you a second to realize what happened until you see the blood dripping from his arm, "Oh my God, you're bleeding," you say in shock.
"Jus' a scratch, don't worry about it," Pete says nonchalantly as he gets up from the floor.
"Come on, let me patch you up," you say, gently holding onto his arm and guiding him towards your bathroom. "Stay here while I grab my med kit, real quick," you instruct as you place your hands on Pete's shoulders to lower him to take a seat on the counter.
"You really don't have to," Pete says again to stop you from wrapping his cut. You give him a knowing look before you disappear to get your first aid kit. You make your way to your room and grab it from under your bed. You hesitate as you take a deep breath, but smile as you realize that for once, you're not bringing it out to soothe your black eye or your busted lip. You're getting it to help someone else.
You walk back into your bathroom and don't look up as you get the supplies needed to help Pete's cut.
"This might sting a little, but I promise this is to help you. I'd hate for it to get infected because of my sink," you calmly say as you softly take his arm to clean him up. "I know it always helped me to think of something happy. Just to take you out of the moment for a bit," you share as Pete sorrowfully stares at you. He catches on to a lingering sadness behind your words as you fix him up quickly, as if it were something you'd done a hundred times before.
"How d'you know how to patch this up? That's better than anything I would have done, and I've had to patch myself up quite a few times." Pete asks as he marvels at your wound repair skills. Your hands still as you finish washing them in the bathroom sink.
"Everyone has something to hide, right?" You give him a small smile as you pat your hands dry. "Now, I'm sure you want to get home, so I won't keep you here any longer," you say, beginning to turn to walk out of the bathroom, when you notice Pete has a couple of dots of blood on his face that you're sure he got when he cut his arm so swiftly. You turn back around and grab the towel hanging on the hook next to the sink. "You have a little something- here, let me get it." You move closer to him and gently wash away the speckles of blood.
You don't realize how close you have gotten until you look at him to see if there are any other spots you may have missed. You're still holding the towel close to his face when you feel his eyes watching you closely. Your breath softly hitches in your throat as your eyes move to meet his.
You don't know what comes over you, or if there was some sort of expectation to be met that you set up in your head when you realized he was going to come over, but you slowly lean in, eyes closed, and don't stop until your lips meet his. The towel in your hand, close to his face, has slowly dropped as you adjust yourself to be even closer to him.
It must have been two seconds before he started reciprocating once the shock of you kissing him had worn off. His hands moved from the counter to hold onto your waist as you intertwined into a dance.
You feel his tongue softly graze your bottom lip, begging for entrance when you abruptly snap out of your fantasy. You suddenly move back from him so quickly that he leans in to meet where you had gone until he opens his eyes, realizing you've taken a step back.
You close your eyes in embarrassment as the hand holding the towel rests against your forehead and your other hand on your hip, "Pete, I'm sorry. I'm not really sure what came over me?" You ask in confusion, realizing you've never once done something as strange as kiss a man you met briefly three days ago in your bathroom, patching up a scratch he got from your plumbing.
"It's okay, really," Pete says, moving to get off the counter and stand across from you.
You move the towel away from your face as your eyes move to look at him. You can't help but notice your red cheeks that you see in the bathroom mirror. You let out a chuckle and watch as a smile grows on Pete's face. You both start to laugh over your little moment shared not even a minute ago.
"Do I have any more blood on my face?" Pete jokes as he moves his head side to side. Your laughter comes down to small chuckles as you examine his face just to double-check, appreciating the humor Pete seems to have.
"You are all good. You are officially cleaned up from the attack of the disposal monster." You laugh as you look towards the supplies still out from your med kit and go to put them back, with Pete still standing next to you. "I want you to know I really appreciate you coming over and fixing my sink. You had no reason to come over and help me, but you still did, and that means a lot." You look towards him and give him a full smile.
He nods his head in his own way to say 'you're welcome,' as he scoots past you, heading toward the doorway of the bathroom. You look over the sink again to make sure all your supplies have made their way back to where they belong. You look up to make your way to your bedroom to put it back when you make eye contact with Pete standing in the doorway.
"I think I know what else I was going to do! You have to try my mom's famous meatloaf!" You say, emphasizing the 'you' as your eyebrows lift and eyes widen in excitement.
His head hangs low as he slowly shakes his head and then looks up, "No, I don't want to hold you up any more than I have." You scoff as you fling your hand forward to brush him off.
"You're completely fine. I haven't had company in a long time, so you're not intruding at all." You warmly say as you pass by him to put the first aid kit back where it belongs. You walk to the kitchen to get two plates out to share some of your dinner with Pete, when you hear him clear his throat.
"Listen, I'd love to stay, but I got some things I have to do." He says apologetically.
You look up at him as you suddenly feel embarrassed to assume he had nothing else going on, "Oh yeah, I totally understand! Uh, let me-" you say, trying to busy yourself to distract from the feeling of disappointment coming over you.
Pete notices the shift in your demeanor and quickly tries to rectify it, "You know, maybe you could make me a, uh, a plate to go, huh?" He says, smiling at you. You stop and smile back at him, knowing he would stay if he could.
"Yeah, I can definitely do that." You say grabbing some Tupperware from your cabinet and giving him a generous amount of your prepared dinner. You make your way towards him and reach out to give him his food, "Now, unfortunately, you happen to be taking my favorite tupperware, which means I'm going to need this back." His grin slowly grows as he realizes where this is going and takes the container. You walk over to your stack of Post-it notes and grab a pen, writing your number on it. "So, you will have to see me again, I know, but this is the best I can do." You say, walking back over to him and placing the sticky note on the box.
"I don't think seeing you again will be an issue," Pete says quietly, as you both think over the night you've had. You walk past him to guide him towards the door. You hold it open for him as he makes his way out, but not before he turns back around to face you.
"I know I've said it a ton of times, but thank you again, Pete." You walk up to him with the door resting on your back. You place your hands on both of his arms to steady yourself and lean on your tippy-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. You place your feet back on the ground, looking up at him as he towers over you.
"I meant it when I said that you don't need to call someone to come over and fix things," he whispers as he leans down closer to you. Your faces are closer to each other than they were moments ago.
"I know," you whisper as he closes the distance and gives you a gentle kiss. You eventually lean back, "Have a good night, Pete."
"Good night, Y/N," he says, watching as you walk backwards into your house. You smile and give him a small wave as he waits until you close and lock your door. You place your hands on your cheeks to feel how hot your face is as you once again melt into the floor.
You have a smile on your face the whole time getting ready for bed, and before you fall asleep, the last thing you think about is Pete.
---------
Once again, Pete seemed to have fallen off the radar and hadn't been around in a couple of days. You kept looking at your phone, hoping that a text from him would magically appear. Why didn't you ask for his number? If you had done that, you would have looked for something to break and hoped that you'd gain the courage to ask him to come over for a real dinner. The type of dinner where you could get to know each other.
There was something magnetic about Pete that just couldn't keep you away. You weren't sure if it was because he seemed like he would protect you if anything were to happen, or if it was just the fact that he's the first guy you've started to like after your last relationship. Whatever it was, you wanted to see him again.
The first thing you did the morning after Pete came over was go to Sarah's house and let her in on every detail. She couldn't believe how bold you had gotten, and to be honest, you couldn't either.
You used to be scared of your own shadow, thinking it was him, coming back to finish what he had started a year and a half ago. It took a while for you to come out of your house and not immediately go back in once you thought you saw a glimpse of a person. Sarah and David were there to help ease and reassure you that you were safe.
Then one day something happened. You didn't want to be scared anymore or think that he had some control over you, so you ventured out. You went to the grocery store for the first time instead of having Sarah pick stuff up for you.
Soon, a grocery trip turned into taking a walk in the neighborhood and having a girls' night out with Sarah. It felt good to be back to normal, and that's what Pete made you feel like, normal, which is why you couldn't fully grasp what you were hearing on the news.
You usually had a cup of coffee, some cereal, and watched the news before going on your walk, and today was no different, besides the fact that you slept in a little past noon. It was a Saturday, which meant you could relax a bit since you always had dinner with Sarah, Leo, and Zach.
You walked over to your couch, turned on the TV, and switched to the news. The headline read, "The Punisher Returns," but the pictures they showed were of Pete and what you assumed to be a picture taken no later than this morning.
You dropped the remote and held your hands over your mouth as you processed everything you were hearing on the news.
Pete is The Punisher. But The Punisher is dead? No. He's alive, and Pete Castiglione is Frank Castle, but Pete is not real. The Pete you know is Frank, and Frank is The Punisher.
You remembered when Frank Castle was on trial a year ago for killing gang members and criminals on the streets of New York. You never watched the CCTV because other things were happening in your life, and all you were doing was trying to survive them. The only thing you knew about Frank Castle, other than the fact that he was on trial and had supposedly died, was that his family was brutally murdered in a shootout in Central Park in front of him. You couldn't imagine the pain or what that could do to a man.
When his trial was going on, you secretly hoped that maybe there was a way for him to get a lesser sentence by proving the insanity plea. When that fell through, you stopped listening for updates, knowing that it probably was not going to end well for him, but here we are. He's alive and well and just so happens to be a part of your life.
Is it bad that knowing his true identity as Frank Castle didn't change the way you feel about him? You still cared for him even though the Pete you knew was gone. It's a confusing feeling when what you think you know about someone ends up being the complete opposite.
You had to turn the TV off. You just needed to see Pete- Frank and just try to understand the predicament he's in.
Should you tell Sarah? You're sure she's probably watching the news, but maybe not. Saturdays are busy with Zach's new soccer team, Leo's robotics club, and her preparing dinner for you and them tonight. You should text her; she probably knows what to do.
You turn around to go grab your phone from your table when you feel a cold breeze. Did you turn on the A/C last night by accident? You walk closer to the table, and as you do, the floor gets colder and colder. This isn't the A/C. There's a window or a door open, which is weird because you always make sure they're closed and locked.
You go to see if any windows in the kitchen are open before checking your back door to your porch. You walk around and notice nothing unusual. All your kitchen windows are closed, so it must be your back door, but you hadn't gone out yet, nor did you leave through that door yesterday. So how did it open?
You start to panic as you try to remember if somehow you went out the door and forgot to close it, but you didn't. Your stomach drops as an uneasy feeling continues to grow. You need to grab your phone and run over to Sarah's.
You walk to the table and head straight to the spot where you left your phone, but nothing is there. Your phone is gone. Is this really happening? Are you still asleep? Your heart is beating faster than ever as you realize someone is in your house and you need to get out. You don't even have shoes on, but that's not stopping you from running like hell out of here.
You avoid going to the back door that's probably open because if it is, someone might be waiting there. You run out of your kitchen and turn the corner to leave through your front door.
You're about to unlock it when someone grabs your arm and yanks you against them. You try to scream, but their hand smacks up against your mouth, muffling any noise you could have made.
Their arms are wrapped around you with their hand still over your mouth, holding you back right up against their chest. You try to wiggle your way out but they're strong.
Before you can fully comprehend or try to look back to see who they are, they bang your head against the wall, knocking you out cold.
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You slowly start to come to your senses, feeling something dry against the side of your head. You move your hand to try to feel what it is, but you can't. Your arms are wrapped tight against something wooden. Your face scrunches in confusion with your eyes still closed as you try to get up from this seated position you're in. You're stuck. There's something tightly wrapped around both of your legs against something hard. You really can't move, and your head is throbbing. Is there something over your mouth, too?
"Ah, she's awake," you hear someone gruff as their footsteps sound louder, getting closer to you. "The little princess is waking from her slumber." You haven't opened your eyes yet, hoping that when you do, this will be just some crazy, realistic nightmare you've conjured. The footsteps stop as you can feel someone looming over you. You feel their rough hand push your hair back from your eyes, but shortly after, they yank your head back, forcing your eyes open. "Wake up! We got things to do, Y/N." You know that face, and you know that voice. This can't be happening. He found you.
After all this time, thinking you had finally escaped, he came back and found you. You can't help but cry knowing that you'll never have a life without this monster looming quietly behind you.
You try to subtly look around to see if there's anything around that you could use to get out of your restraints, but he's placed you far away from any table or window.
The thing that sucks is that if he had done this a year ago, you would have been prepared. You never went anywhere, including other areas of your house, without something to protect yourself, whether it was a knife or your gun that you kept loaded in your bedside table. However, you decided that enough time had gone by, started to let your guard down, and live the life you want and deserve. All good things must come to an end at some point.
"You've been asleep for hours, Y/N. I guess I've only gotten stronger since the last time, which means I don't really know my own strength." He slowly shows a mischievous smile as he creeps over towards you. "You got a nice place here. It took me a while to find you, with your new last name and everything. Nice touch, by the way. If anything, it just made the game more rewarding when I finally found you. And here we are." You maintain eye contact and don't break. You survived this man by yourself for years as he tormented and beat you, and you're going to survive again. "You're so quiet! Nothing to say?" He leans forward and laughs, "Oh, right, let me take this off for you." He rips off the duct tape over your mouth.
"You don't scare me." You bite back, grinding your teeth together.
"Y/N, now I know that isn't true. Come on, don't be like that. We were in love together at some point," he drones on.
"Go to hell," you say, spitting at him. He slaps you hard before you can close your mouth. He gets closer to you and brings the knife you didn't know he had close to your face.
"No! You don't get to do that! I'm in charge here. You're gonna regret that." He brings the knife to your cheek, but before he has the chance to cut you, your phone starts ringing. Both of you turn to face your kitchen counter at lightning speed. You see the clock in the distance and notice that it's now 5 o'clock. Dinner with Sarah.
He goes over and grabs it. "Who's Sarah?" he yells.
"A close friend who is going to walk over here if I don't answer that phone. So if you want this 'night' to go the way you want, I need to answer it." You say. The only reason you're explaining is because Sarah knows your voice, especially in distress. She'll know something's wrong and hopefully get help. What you said was true. If you don't answer, she will walk over. You're not sure what he would do to her if she did, but you can't let another life be ruined by him.
You see him contemplate his options as you try to explain to him how serious you are if he doesn't let you pick up the phone. He walks back over with your phone in hand, "If you say, anything- anything, I won't hesitate to kill you, Sarah, and anyone else involved." He was now eye level with you, "Do you understand?" he yelled. You shook your head curtly. "Good," he said, smiling again. He answered the phone and put it on speaker.
"Hey, Y/N, you have me worried. Are you still coming over for dinner?" Sarah asks as you hear her trying to corral Leo and Zach to sit at the table. You let out a small smile, knowing that you might not be able to see Sarah or Zach or Leo again.
"Hey, Sarah, I'm actually not feeling well." He brings his knife closer to ensure you don't get any 'funny' ideas. "I'd hate it if I got you and the kids sick if I came over." Your voice wobbles as you feel the sharp edge of the knife.
Sarah waits a couple of seconds before she responds, "Aw, I'm sorry you're not feeling well. I can bring you some leftovers tomorrow, if that works?" He shakes his head no, signaling to tell her that it doesn't work.
You're caught off guard, "Uh, uh, I don't think I'll be better by then, so you don't have to save any for me. I'll be fine." You excuse.
"Okay, well, I hope you feel better. We'll miss you tonight. Just make sure you get plenty of rest so you can come over sometime." Sarah says before you both say your goodbyes. He hangs up the phone and throws it on the ground.
âNow, weâll have no more distractions.â He goes to your living room and grabs your side table, bringing it over and placing it right next to you. You didnât notice the black duffel bag he had with him until he slammed it on the table. âThe fun can finally start. I hope youâll stay awake for it.â He says mockingly.
You watch as he pulls out a tool pouch and unravels it. Some of the tools he has, youâd never seen before, each one sharper than the last.
âIâm sure youâre wondering what all this is for, so let me explain.â He takes out one of the knives and cleans it with a rag. âWhile you were here playing perfect neighbor, I was learning all the ways I could make up for lost time with my beautiful girlfriend, without getting caught, of course. A gun is too quick and way too easy to trace. What better way to make your life a living hell than by cutting it in you?â He mocks, looking over you.
âGo ahead, you killed me a long time ago.â You say not willing to let him scare you. He rushes over and grips your chin roughly in between his hands.
âI didnât think a dead body could scream,â he says as he brings the knife and slashes your arm. Before you let out a scream, he holds his hand against your mouth. âI knew I was forgetting something.â With his hand still over your mouth, he grabs the duct tape next to him, tearing off a piece. âI want to take my time with you, and if youâre screaming like a bitch, it'll be over.â You canât help the tears that cascade down your face, finding it hard to believe that you were free from him not even two days ago. âDonât cry, Y/N, you know you deserve this for leaving me.â He roughly wipes the tears off your face. âNow, letâs have fun!â He says as he turns around to grab a different knife.
You watch as he constantly goes back and forth between knives to carve on your skin, each one sharper and going deeper than the last. When he didn't get the reaction he wanted, he'd punch you until you let out a muffled scream. You never thought that today would be the day that you died, and he won.
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As soon as Sarah picked up the phone, she knew something was wrong. There was a distinct pattern whenever she called you. It never took you that long to answer the phone, and if it did, you'd tell her what you were doing. You especially never missed out on dinner with her, Leo, and Zach, and you sure never denied leftovers, saying that if you ever did, something is wrong. What if that was your hint to her?
Sarah didn't know what to do, and she really didn't want to worry Leo or Zach if it was nothing. Their day was already busy enough, and she hardly had any time to relax.
There was only one thing she could think to do, and that was to call Pete to see if he could check up on you. She knew you both liked each other, so if anything, she'd be doing you a favor by asking him to check on you.
She grabs her phone from her purse and goes to click on Pete's name. She waits as it rings, but he doesn't pick up. She debates calling again but decides to leave a message to make sure he knows what she called about.
"Pete, I think Y/N's in trouble. She was supposed to come over for dinner tonight, but I called her a couple of minutes ago, and she just didn't sound right. Could you check on her for me? I would, but I got Leo and Zach here. I'm sure it's nothing, but I just have this weird feeling. Thank you." She explains quickly, trying to keep her voice down over her children's bickering. She turns her ringer on just in case Pete decides to call her back as she goes to put dinner on the table.
Frank watches Sarah's call come in, but with everything going on about his identity, he didn't want to answer any questions she may have for him. He waits to see if she leaves a message to confirm his thoughts, but instead, as it comes in, his blood runs cold.
You, Y/N, the only woman who he's grown close to since Maria died. In trouble. He sees red. All he knows is that he has to make sure you're okay. He couldn't care less if people caught a glimpse of him anymore than they already had. He needs to see you.
Frank grabs his pistol and checks to see if it's fully loaded before he heads out. He reaches the stairs when he hears David behind him.
"Whoa, whoa, Frank, what are you doing? You can't go out there. Everyone knows you're alive, and they're gonna be looking for you." David pleads as he steps in front of him to try to stop him.
"I don't care. I need to go to Y/N," he says as he goes to push past him.
David goes to stop him again, "Y/N? Like my neighbor, Y/N, whose house you came back from not too long ago? What's the deal with you two?"
Frank lets out a gruff yes, "The deal is that nobody goes after her, okay? Not on my watch." He says, itching to move past David.
"What happened to Y/N? Is she okay?" David asks, knowing your history.
"I don't know. Sarah called and left a message saying that she might be in trouble." Frank barrels past him because he knows that with every second they spend here talking, there is a second you could be hurt.
"Frank, if something is wrong with Y/N, it's probably her ex-boyfriend. He was an abusive asshole who tormented her for years when they were together." Frank couldn't process what David was telling him. The way you carry yourself, he never could've imagined what kind of hell you went through. You were sweet and nurturing, even though your life had been ripped from you. "I helped her get away from him by deleting any evidence of who she was before and changing her last name. If she is in trouble and it's because of him, don't show any mercy." David explains to Frank. He gives David a nod of acknowledgement before he runs out the door to you.
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You can hardly keep your eyes open, with one being swollen shut. All you know is that he is still here in your house, torturing you. You slowly slipped in and out of consciousness, not being able to handle the pain.
Your duct tape is still on your mouth, and your restraints have only gotten tighter as you fight against them. You've started to lose hope that anyone was coming to help you.
You feel him slap your cheeks, "C'mon, Y/N, you gotta stay awake." He says as he places his bloodied knife down on the table across from you. "Don't you wanna know why I'm here? Or how I found you?" You tilt your eyes to look up at him. He looks down at your mouth and laughs, knowing you can't respond.
He stands up and starts pacing in front of you. "I'll tell you. After you left me and disappeared off the face of the earth. I was miserable. The only person I truly ever cared about left." You roll your eyes, not believing a word coming out of his mouth, "The last name change made it quite difficult to find you." He smiles, pointing the knife towards you. "Until you fucked up. Were you a little too comfortable, Y/N? I mean, it looked pretty comfortable when you walked down this very street with another man." Your eyes widen as you realize he had found you days ago, waiting to pounce on his prey.
"Did you really think you could share a life with someone else? I'm all you are ever going to have, Y/N." He started to tear up as he stopped in front of you. "And that hurt seeing you get so close to him when you're with me. You don't understand how hurtful that was, and I'm here to make sure you do." He walks closer, "Every cut, every bruise, and every punch I give you just shows how much I love you. I'm hurting you so badly that I'm risking going to jail, that's how much I love you, Y/N. You just don't get it, and I'm not gonna stop until you do." Tears fall faster as he gets closer to you. He has the knife pointed at an untouched part of your cheek. He's about to go deeper when the door slams open. "You bitch!" He yells as he walks behind your chair, but not before slicing your cheek.
You pray with everything you have that it's not Sarah and that she called someone else. It doesn't take long for whoever it is to reach your kitchen by the sound of their heavy steps coming closer.
"Let her go," Pete- Frank growls, holding his pistol with his finger close to the trigger. The relief that you feel wash over you is hard to describe as you start crying even more, gaining your second wind. You look over Frank, dressed in all black with a bulletproof vest on. He came prepared and, more importantly, he came for you. You watch as Frank's eyes briefly look over you, looking at every cut, every bruise, and every injury caused by the monster behind you. His eyes briefly soften before hardening again, looking back at him. "I'm only going to say this once, let. Her. Go." Frank gruffs.
"Oh, is this him, Y/N? The guy who walked you back to your place? Fixed up your sink? Kissed? Did she tell you about me, huh?" No one says anything in anticipation of who was going to make the first move. You feel him get angrier behind you. "Of course not. I'm the only one who gets to have her. No one else." He yells, jabbing the knife in Frank's direction.
You can see the gears turning in Frank's head if he's able to make the shot without hurting you, but the way he's angled behind you, it'd be a slim chance.
"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to hurt a woman?" Frank snaps, knowing he's right in front of you and can't do anything. He tries to take a step forward, but as he does, you feel the wet, sticky blade pressed against your throat.
"One more step and I swear I'll slit her throat," He monotonously says, pressing the knife deeper. You watch as Frank takes a step back. "Get your gun off me, now," he barks.
"You know, I can't do that," Frank states, not willing to move his finger off the trigger.
"Is the knife not convincing enough?" He slams his knife down on the side table, and you suddenly feel cold metal pressed against your temple. "I guess a gun will have to do." He says nonchalantly.
You close your eyes as you try to think of how this night has a good ending. You saw Pete- Frank again, or for the first time, and that was enough, knowing that there was something there. You open your eyes and notice Frank has his arms held up in surrender and his finger off the trigger.
"You know, a knife actually is convincing enough," Frank says as his eyes briefly look to you and to the table. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, not knowing what he's looking at. "Make it easier for you not to get caught. No serial number to trace back, just a cut. I mean, hey, that knife can probably cut through a lot of different things." You start to pick up on the different words he enunciates as you follow his line of sight. The knife. He placed it on the edge of the table closest to your right hand.
Your hand can only move so much, and you try to push the limit to grab it as you watch Frank, but he subtly shakes his head no to get you to stop. He must be watching you.
"You wouldn't believe the trouble I had to go through to make sure each blade was different." He says as Frank slowly nods his head. You go for it as he explains how he could leave a knife here and no one would be able to know it was him. He must have forgotten about DNA and fingerprints.
Your hand reaches the very tip of the blade as you grasp it, trying to make sure he can't hear the knife moving. Lucky for you, he's animated and talking loudly over how this night was supposed to be 'perfect.' You slowly angle the blade to start cutting away at the rope. The only thing is that it's thick, and you're not quite sure how not to make it obvious.
"Shame your night got ruined," Frank says. You stop what you're doing. Did he really say that? "I mean, your first mistake was letting Y/N talk to Sarah. That's why I'm here. Her tone of voice tipped her off to call me. Shouldn't you have thought of that?" Frank asks as he looks at him.
"Not a mistake. Letting Y/N talk to her stopped her friend from becoming another body. Bummer you're involved now, buddy." He said. You feel him get agitated at what Frank is saying, but you don't stop. You feel one layer give way as you find your energy returning to your body.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night. It's just a little sloppy. I mean, you go out of your way to find her, and you tie her up in her kitchen? You didn't think to get her somewhere else?" Frank briefly looks down to check your progress.
Behind you, he starts to get antsy. Frank's words are bothering him. You can feel the agitation start to seep out of him.
You feel another rope give way; there are only two more layers, and this hand is free. You start to build your momentum a little more as Frank continues to distract him.
"If I'd taken her somewhere else, whose to say a cop wouldn't have pulled us over? This was the best place for this. For making sure that Y/N knows I love her." He says flaling the gun in his hand around.
"Love her? You got a shit way of showing it." Frank scoffs.
"You know what it's like to be entranced by her. Imagine having that, and then it's ripped away from you because she leaves. Erased. Gone. Untraceable. When all you did was love her?" He explains.
"Was it love when you beat her unconscious so badly she didn't know where she was or what her name was? Or was that when you did it the second? The third? The fourth time?" Frank says, looking at you sorrowfully.
How did he know about that? You feel the last pieces break apart on your last rope. You're almost free.
"I love her! No one else is going to have her. And if I can't have her, then no one can." He screams, pointing the gun towards Frank, away from you. The rope breaks, and my hand is free.
"Now, Y/N!" Frank yells as you grab the knife and plunge it past your shoulder into his chest. He screams out, dropping the gun held in his right hand, not before a shot rings through your house. You reach further down the side table and grab another knife to cut yourself free from the chair.
He's still on the ground, groaning in pain. You get up from the chair and make your way to stand over him. You see red as you start punching him. You ignore the pain as it rattles throughout your entire body from the damage he created, but you refuse to let him win. You're hitting his face, his chest, and stomach as you unleash the anger you've held inside for the past four years. He took everything from you before, and he's not going to take it from you now.
You don't know how long you'd been fighting him until you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you back. You collapse in exhaustion as you let the tears stream down your face. Frank places his arms around you and pulls you in tighter to his chest. He shushes you as he feels your body shake.
"He's not going to hurt you anymore. I got you." Frank says, rocking you back and forth. He presses a kiss against your forehead as you hear sirens outside your house. You pull yourself away from him as you begin to feel every cut he made. You look over and see how unrecognizable he is.
"Oh my God, did I kill him?" You say as you look at him on the ground. Frank notices you going into shock as he grabs your face, forcing you to look at him.
"No, he's still alive. You didn't kill him." Frank growls. You slowly nod your head as Frank pulls you up. "Let's get out of here, okay?" He doesn't let go of you as you make your way outside.
"Frank, you need to go. You can't be here. They'll arrest you." You say as you push him away. "Please, I need you to go."
"No, I need to stay here with you to make sure you're okay." He says as he moves your matted hair out of your face.
"I'll be fine, please, go. They're almost here." He hesitates. He knows he needs to leave, but you need to be safe. "I need you to be able to come back when they're gone, and if you're still here, then they're going to take you." You explain to him. He looks at you as he places his forehead against yours.
"I'm coming back for you," he promises. You nod softly as you pull back. Before he goes, he gently grabs your cheeks and kisses you. You try to savor the way he feels in case he can't come back. He breaks apart and gives you two more small pecks before he runs off.
You're standing in the middle of your lawn as cop cars swarm around you. They run up to you to see if you need an ambulance. You must look bad, judging by the gasps and shocks you hear as people look over you. You try to answer their questions about what happened, but your mind goes blank. Youâre about to answer when a single shot is heard from inside the house.
Only one officer stays with you, as the rest storm into your house, guiding you towards the ambulance where the paramedics look over you.
You've almost made it to the hospital when you hear over the paramedics' radio that "the other one" didn't make it. You donât have the strength to ask if that call was related to yours before exhaustion takes over.
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You spent three weeks in the hospital recovering from all the damage he caused. He cut you over a hundred times. Not all of them big enough to cause long-term damage, but just enough to serve as a reminder. He broke your jaw and gave you a bad concussion. The doctors say you were out for at least four days before you came to.
Sarah visited you in the hospital every day, and once you started feeling better and looked more like yourself, Leo and Zach came too. They'd keep you updated on things happening at school, how Zach's soccer team was doing, and Leo's robotics team getting first place at their competition. You were so upset that you missed seeing all these moments, but you were glad that you're still here.
When you woke up, there was a bouquet for every day you were out. Not just small flowers you got at the grocery store, but ones filled with your favorite flowers. They continued every day you were in the hospital until you left. You had an idea of who was behind the flowers, but you didn't want to get your hopes up.
The police came in and asked questions, informing you that he had died. He suffered a single gunshot wound to the head. You thought he had done it to himself, but they ruled out suicide pretty quick due to the angle of the shot. They asked if anyone else was there, but you weren't sure what to say. You wanted to protect Frank and let them know he saved you, but you didn't want them to twist the story around him. You simply said you couldn't remember, and if you did, you'd let them know.
Frank didn't come to see you at the hospital. You knew he couldn't, but there was still some part of you hoping it'd be okay for him to come once. You talked with Sarah about him, the first time asking if she had heard from Pete, not knowing if she had seen the news. She had softly informed you about his real identity, about him being Frank Castle. You told her that you knew and that it didn't change what you thought of him. Sarah agreed, especially after everything he did to help her out around the house and with Zach.
Sarah was there with you when you were discharged from the hospital. Surprisingly, you didn't need any crutches, but they still wheeled you out just in case your strength hadn't returned.
Your house had been cleared to be ready to move back in, but you couldn't imagine yourself being there, where everything had happened. You thought you could, but as you got closer, your throat tightened, and you thought your heart was going to beat out of your chest. You couldn't catch your breath. Sarah picked up on the panic attack you were having and stopped the car.
She told you that you were going to stay with her. She turned around and made her way back to her house. She asked if you could make a list or if there was anything in your house that you needed besides the necessities. You couldn't think, so you just shook your head no.
Sarah brought you inside and immediately took you to the guest bedroom upstairs. You'd stayed here plenty of times before when you and Sarah stayed up late drinking wine and talking about life. You couldn't believe the circumstances of why you were staying here this time.
It didn't feel real. He had come back and almost ended your life, but he didn't, and he wouldn't get the chance to do it again. You survived, but why did it feel like he still won? You couldn't help the sobs that racked your body as you tried to sleep. You heard Sarah come in a couple of times with what sounded like a suitcase and other items you needed, but you were too exhausted to acknowledge her.
It must have been three or four days until you felt like you had rested enough to leave the guest bedroom. Leo or Zach would come in and bring you food those days and just sit to talk with you. All they knew was that something had happened, but they didn't know the circumstances, which is good. You couldn't traumatize them with something that had nothing to do with them.
You felt bad for how long you had stayed with Sarah, even though she constantly reassured you that it wasn't a bother. You told her that by the end of the month, you'd go back to your house. You needed to at some point, and you had grown more comfortable with the idea of going back when you realized there was no way for him to hurt you again. She was hesitant to let you back, but understood the meaning behind you living in your house. Who knows? Maybe you'll get a dog or a cat to keep you company.
The first couple of nights sleeping in your own house were rough. You were tormented by nightmares that were so realistic you thought you'd been tied back up in that chair in your kitchen. When it happened, you'd call Sarah, and she'd drive over to pick you up to go back to her house.
When you were at home, you thought about Frank and wondered if he was okay. You watched the news constantly to see if there were any updates on him, but there weren't. You guessed that no news was good news.
Before you knew it, two months had passed since your accident. You were doing better. The nightmares were less frequent, but a longing to see Frank grew. Where was he?
You decided that for once you were going to make dinner for Sarah, Leo, and Zach, just as a way to thank them for everything they did for you. You had found a recipe that sounded good that you hadn't tried before. You decided to make it for yourself to test it out to make sure it actually tasted good. You didn't want to make a meal for them if it was awful.
You'd gotten the groceries earlier in the day and were just about to start making dinner when there was a knock at the door. You looked at the time, seeing that it was 4:30. It must have been Sarah. Sometimes she'd come over after dropping Zach and Leo at their extracurriculars to hang out.
You walk over to the door and quickly unlock it, sporting a big grin on your face. You opened it, and to your surprise, it wasn't Sarah, it was Frank. Your smile fell for a moment as you couldn't comprehend if it was actually him standing there, but it quickly grew as you realized it was. He was dressed in a black hoodie with a hat underneath to conceal his identity.
"Can I come in?" Frank asks as he looks around to see if anyone has followed him. You nod your head as you open your door to let him in. "Thank you." He says as he makes his way inside. You close the door and lock it behind him.
"Do you want to come sit down?" You softly ask, hoping he'd stay. It'd been so long since that night, and now that Frank was finally here, you're not sure what to say.
"Yeah," Frank agrees as he removes his hat and hoodie. He waits for you to pass him so he can follow you. You make your way into your kitchen as you motion for him to sit at the barstool. He sits down as you stand across from him, leaning against the counter. "How are you doing?" He asks as he directs his gaze over you, checking to make sure you're okay.
"I've been better." You joke as you only let out a chuckle, "I think I've spent two full days in my own house since everything happened. The nightmares aren't as often as they have been, thankfully." You say as you fold your arms over your chest and look at him.
"That's good. You're getting better." He says solemnly. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I should've been here sooner than I was. Maybe I could have stopped him from hurting you." You begin to shake your head as you see him start to work himself up. You walk over towards him and place your hand on his arm.
"Stop, you don't have to do that, Frank. You got here as fast as you could have." You counter as you start to console him. "You didn't know about my past or who I was hiding from. If anything, you saved me." He looks up at you, "If you weren't here to distract him, I don't think I would've been able to escape. I don't even know what would have happened." You can't help as the tears start to fall faster.
Frank stands up and pulls you into him. All these emotions you had been holding back, like the fear of him not actually being dead has consumed your every thought, each second you're alone in your home.
You pull back from him as he moves his thumb to wipe away your tears, "I thought that knowing he was gone was going to be some big relief, but all I can think about is what if he isn't dead?" You cry as Frank starts to console you.
"Shh, Y/N, he isn't coming back. He's dead, and no one is ever going to hurt you again." He says as he presses a kiss against your forehead. "You're not gonna have to worry about anyone coming in here or taking advantage of you. I'm here." He pulls away and moves the hair out of your eyes.
He waits a moment, âDoes it bother you?â He asks. You give him a confused look as youâre not sure what heâs asking. âThat Iâm Frank Castle, a now-alive but used to be dead convicted murderer?â He asks with his head facing down.
You take a second, âNo.â You say, looking at him as he looks down at you, shocked. âYou, being Frank Castle, saved my life. No offense, but Iâm not sure Pete Castiglione sounds like a guy who knows his way around a gun.â You joke as you both let out a laugh. "Thank you for my flowers." You smile up at him as you place your hand on his cheek.
"Of course," Frank says softly. He leans down and waits to see if there's any hesitation, but you surprise him by meeting him in the middle.
Your soft lips press up against his weathered ones, wrapping your arms around his neck. He wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you up, causing your legs to wrap around his waist. Your noses brush against each other as you try to find the perfect angle.
He places you down on the counter without breaking the kiss as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip. You open your mouth slightly to grant him entrance, moaning as your tongues entwine. Your hand grips onto the hair that has slightly grown out since you'd last seen him, eliciting a groan to escape his lips.
You feel his hands start to move down to your shirt to remove it, but your body doesn't look like it did before. There are all these new scars that you had chosen to forget because you couldn't stand to look at them. You move your hands to grab his and redirect them to your face, not wanting him to see what he had carved.
You move your hands to grab onto his shirt to take it off. You break the kiss as Frank quickly removes his shirt. You look at him as you run your hand over his sculpted body. You bring your face close to his chest as you kiss him. Frank grabs onto your hair and gently pulls you back to his mouth. Your tongues fight for dominance as his hand brings you even closer to him.
You pull back as you hop off the counter, but not before grabbing his hand to guide him to your room. When you make it, you bring him closer to you as you sit down on your bed. He towers over you as he brings his head down to kiss you again.
Your mouth opens as you let out a moan as his hand moves towards your breast. You're now fully lying on the bed as he hovers on top of you. "You're so beautiful, Y/N," he whispers as he holds himself over you, moving his finger over your face. You smile at him before your hands move to the back of his head and pull his lips to yours.
His hands move further down to the hem of your shirt to remove it, and before you can think of anything, you break apart to throw it off of you. You watch as Frank slowly moves to rest on his side next to you, looking over you. You look at his face as it slowly falls as he zones in on your torso.
Frank can't even count the number of scars that litter your body. Each one is unique in its length and size; some even look to go deeper than they should be able to. You slowly start to move your hands to cover yourself up, but Frank grabs your hands and places them where they were beside your head.
He moves to hover over you again as he goes to kiss and erase any pain or memory associated with the creation of your scars. He takes his time as he lovingly caresses each spot with his tongue. You can't help the tears that start to escape as you realize no one has ever been this sweet or gentle with you.
When Frank is done removing the evil hidden behind each scar, he comes back to look in your eyes. "I will always protect you, no matter what." He wipes your tears and traces the outline of your jaw. Your hand holds onto his cheek as you pull him closer to you. The only thing you wanted was to be as close to Frank as you could.
His hands move down to remove your jeans and underwear as he pushes his own off. You can't help but look down and marvel at how big he is. You go to move towards him, but he softly pushes you down.
He makes his way down your stomach as he reaches your center. You watch as his tongue slowly swirls around your clit, causing a warm sensation to spread throughout your body. Your back arches and your eyes roll back into your head as Frank's tongue continues to massage your center as if heâs done it before. He's speaking an entirely new language you hadn't experienced, and to say it was the best you ever had was an understatement.
He could feel you get closer as your walls clenched around his tongue. If there was one thing Frank was going to do, it was to make sure that you came. He continued to move his tongue in the way that caused your body to jolt every time. He worked you through your orgasm as you gripped his hair and moaned out his name.
When he came back up, you grabbed onto his back and smashed your lips against his. Your tongue infiltrated his mouth as you tasted yourself on his tongue. He moaned into your mouth as his tongue fought for dominance.
His body covered yours as he moved to align his hard member against your entrance. He moved back as he looked into your eyes, making sure it was okay. You nodded your head and bit your lip in anticipation.
He slowly moved in, allowing your body to get used to his length. You bite his shoulder to stifle the noises escaping your mouth. "Fuck Frank," you moan as he hits a spot you'd never experienced before.
He gradually increases his speed as he moves to place your leg against your shoulder, hitting another angle. Your vision starts to blur as you see stars. No one had ever made you feel like this.
He feels you getting close as your walls squeeze around him. You see Frank close his eyes as you realize he's getting close. "Look at me, Frank, please," you plead breathily. He opens his eyes as you hold onto the back of his head. You both see the pleasure cross over your features as the warmth spreads all throughout your body, reaching the top of your head to your toes. Your moans blend together as you feel his hot seed spread within you. He places his head between your neck and shoulder as he tries to even his breathing.
He kisses your shoulder before he gently pulls out of you, feeling his cum spread out on the sheets underneath you. You marvel as he begins to try to get up, but you grab his arm. He looks at you in concern to make sure everything is okay, but you just pull him down to kiss him one more time.
He pulls back to look at you and gives you a small kiss before he gets up. You see him walk over to your bathroom and hear him turn on the sink. He comes back out with a washcloth in his hand. He makes his way over to you and gently washes away any evidence of what you guys had done.
He goes to put the washcloth back in the bathroom and walks back into the room. You see him hesitate, not quite sure what to do.
"Can you please stay?" You ask quietly as you look at him through your eyelashes. He walks over to where you are on the bed and slides in next to you.
"I'm gonna stay for however long you'll let me," He says as he pulls you close to him. He runs his finger over your shoulder as you snuggle close to him.
"Then you're going to have to move in." You say as you angle your head to look up at him.
"Sounds good," he smiles as he lowers his head to capture your lips in a lingering kiss. The kiss ends as you take in each other's presence before you both slowly nod off to sleep. Who knew that a guy your best friend hit with their car would end up being the person you needed?
Note: this is a work of fiction. It has no connection with real life and does not promote the actions of the characters. It does not promote violence. There is no hate against any religion or country. Again, it is just a work of fiction. All the characters are based on Aditya Dhar's portrayal of them. Plagiarism is strictly prohibited.
A/n: this is the longest os I have ever written. Please give it some extra love. It is literally somewhere around 8k words, the longest I have ever written.
Based on this and this
Pairing: Hamza Ali Mazari x Noorjahan
Noorjahan had always felt like a outcast since the moment for as long as she can remember. Her mother was a hindu who had moved to London for higher education and met her father, a pakistani. Her father, Ahmad was the son of a powerful politician and the perfect spoilt brat.
Her mother, Mansi was from a simple family in Punjab, her family did not support her when she insisted on marrying Ahmad and so she choose to cut off her ties with them.
That was her first mistake, immediately after marriage Mansi got pregnant. She had to quit her job as it was a risky pregnancy. The fights between the couple increased in the span of 9 months, Mansi wanted Ahmad to come out of his father's shadow and work independently, while Ahmad wanted Mansi to move to Pakistan with him, change her religion and live there.
So as soon as noor was born, her parents got divorced. Ahmad went back to Pakistan choosing to live with his family while Mansi got a new job and started raising her daughter alone.
Soon enough Ahmad got married again and his contact with noor was cut off.
When noor reached the age of 5, Mansi decided to move back to India because her father had died and she needed to be with her mother.
The time in India was the best one of noor's life. She had got to meet her nani who despite being mad at her mother, lovingly dotted on noor. She also got a chance to explore her hindu heritage more. Her nani would spend hours sitting with her in the temple, telling her stories of Shree Krishna when her mother went to work. Her nani told her that since she did not have a brother she could tie rakhi to Shree Krishna and share all her heart's qualms with him. So little noor had started to consider a literal god as her brother.
But just like every happiness this one was too short lived in noor's life. One day, her mother and nani went to the hospital for her nani's routine check up. noor remembers her mother kissing her forehead before she left her with the neighbour, her nani sneakily promising her a chocolate when they come back.
But they did not come back. Their car was struck by a drunk driver. The hospital had declared her dead on stop. The driver could not survive either.
And just like that, 10 year old noor was forced to move in with her father, in Pakistan of all places. She had no other blood relation that was willing to take her in and her father was the only option left for her.
She remembers the first time she saw her father, he was a tall man probably 6'2. He smelled heavily of tobacco and gun powder, noor had crunched her nose in diguist.
Living in Pakistan was difficult for noor, she could not pray openly and practice her religion. She was bound by her father and his new wife. noor would often chant mantras in her head while sleeping at night, she would sit in a corner in her room talking to her 'brother'.
Life moved on for noor, she met Yalina when she was 12. Yalina was a grade younger than noor, but they still became friends because they had dance class together.
Yalina's home become noor's safe space. Yalina's mother was warm and kind, she would feed both the girls with her own hands, play with them and teach them about makeup and sanitation. Seeing the condition at noor's home, Yalina's mother had taken it upon herself to teach the girl about periods and provide her with the supplies.
Yalina's father Jameel was a different story, he was a distant yet warm figure. He was mostly busy but would sit with his daughter every night and listen about her day. noor would sometimes feel envious, her father hardly made a conversation with her. Jameel had soon unofficially adopted noor as well, he was known with Ahmad as they were work acquiantances. So he had convinced Ahmad to let noor stay with him.
noor had met Rehman at the age of 15. He had come to Jameel's house for some funding discussion and saw Yalina and Noor who he identified as Ahmad's daughter. Rehman had known Ahmad as he was a co-worker of Jameel but he wasn't very fond of the man. . At first Rehman had paid no attention to her, but curiousity got the best of him so he asked Jameel.
"Kya batau mere bache? Yeh Ahmad ki beti hai, maa hindustani thi uske intekal ke baad yeh Ahmad ke paas rehne aa gayi. Ahmad to tu janta hi hai, nashedi hai woh ek number hai. Ladki pe dhyan hi nahi tha, uski biwi marti peechti thi bichari ko. Yalina ki khaas saheli ban gayi, tabse meine Ahmad ko bolke issi yahi rehne keh diya."
Rehman had felt sympathetic towards the young girl, his own trauma added to it. So he asked Jameel "To matlab ab aapke saath hi rehti hai?"
Jameel nodded his head and soon changed the conversation to work.
Later that night at Baloch Haveli, Rehman had chosen to discuss this with Ulfat
"Bichari bachi, esse ammi-abbu to Allah kisi ko na de" ulfat felt extremely sympathetic for Noor.
"Ulfat agar hum usse yaha le aaye to?" rehman didn't need to explain further as Ulfat understood what he was feeling.
"Zaroor rehman, agar bachi ko etraz na ho to zaroor le aate hai usse yahan"
The very next day Rehman had gone to Jameel's house. He was greeted by Jameel's wife.
As the two chatted about random things while waiting for Jameel, Yalina and Noor entered the house laughing amongst themselves loudly.
Seeing Rehman they both sobered up and greeted him "Assalam-o-alaikum Rehman Bhai"
"Walaikumassalam"
The two girls then head down to their room. Soon enough Jameel too came and the two men walked to his home office.
Rehman shared his feelings with Jameel who smiled at his thoughts.
"Kaafi acha socha hai tumne. Par agar Noor manegi tabhi, mein uspe zabardasti nahi karunga"
Rehman nodded and Jameel asked his wife to send Noor to his home office.
Noor was nervous and she was replaying everything she had ever done in her head.
She knocked on Jameel's door and entered once getting the permission "Ji Jameel mamu aapne bulaya?" She asks standing in front of them.
Rehman smiled at her and said "Baitho Noor.â
Noor quietly sat down on the chair opposite them, nervously playing with the ring on her finger.
âKal Jameel sahab ne tumhare baare mein bataya tha.â
Noor stiffened. For a second she feared she had done something wrong.
Rehman hesitated for a minute "Mein aur meri begum chahte hai kii tum humare saath raho"
Noor stiffened and hesitation was clear on her face. Though she had known Rehman as he would often visit her house (when she lived there) and Jameel's, he was still an unknown man to her.
"Gabhrao mat, tum aaram se sochke jawab dena"
Noor nodded and Jameel dismissed her.
She walked back to her shared bedroom with yalina and found the younger girl scrolling through her phone. As soon as yalina saw her bestfriend she immediately sat up and put her phone aside.
"Kya hua? Kyu bulaya tha abbu ne?"
Noor felt tears rise in her eyes again and she hugged Yalina tightly, narrating the conversation that took place in the office.
Yalina had known Noor's insecurities and her fears of not fitting in anywhere. She knew Noor had a hard time adjusting and making friends. So she was mad at her Abbu for taking this approach but she also understood that he didn't have any ill intentions.
"Noor, Rehman Bhai aur Ulfat bhabhi bohot ache hain. Mein jab choti thi to unke ghar bohot baar khelne jati thi. Agar woh tujhe apne saath rakhna chahte hai to usmein koi burai nahi hai. Par haan, it's all your decision. Agar tu yaha rehna chahti hai to yahi rahegi"
Noor pulled out of the hug and looked at Yalina "Par mein esse kesse unke saath rehne chalii jau? Mein to unhe janti bhi nahi"
Yalina and Noor went quite for a few minutes before Yalina broke into a smile "To ek kaam karte hai, kuch din school ke baad seedha wahi chalenge. Tu Ulfat bhabhi se bhi mil liyo."
Noor nodded and the two girls then got into a discussion about school gossips.
Over the next few days, Yalina and Noor would go to Rehman's Haveli immediately after school.
They had met Ulfat who reminded Noor of her own mother. Ulfat had a warm aura around herself. She would make Noor's favourites whenever she was sad and would take her and Yalina on shopping spree any random day.
Naieem was in the same grade as Yalina and was her friend. He and Yalina had formed an agreement on pranking Uzair whenever they get a chance and Noor would reluctantly join them.
Uzair of course, never scolded Noor because in his head she was a sweet innocent kid who needed to be protected from the two monstrous children (as he called Yalina and Naieem)
Faisal was an 6 year old who had found his first crush in Noor. He would keep tugging on her pants to walk with her, run after her if she left the room and insist that she watch his favourite cartoons with her.
Rehman had maintained his distance at first, giving her space to gel with the other family members properly. But when one day, he saw her alone in the garden, he could not stop himself. They had a long conversation that day, in which rehman revealed about his own childhood to her and she realised that maybe his childhood trauma was the reason, he is wanted to protect her. Rehman had become a safe person for Noor, someone who insisted on protecting her and taking care of her.
Noor had soon moved in with the baloch family but would keep having sleepovers with Yalina whenever she demanded.
Years passed and at the age of 18, Noor had joined one of the most prestigious colleges in Karachi.
Life was perfect for them, until Naieem died. It was Babu Dakait's men who had chosen to take their revenge through a kid. A kid who deserved to live.
Noor remembers that night correctly, she was studying when their house help had informed her of the tragedy.
When she, Ulfat and Samina, Uzair's wife reached the hospital it was too late. Naieem had already succumbed to his wound.
That was also the first time she saw Hamza.
Hamza Ali Mazari was the man who had saved Faisal and tried to save Naieem. Suddenly Noor felt gratitude towards the man. He had atleast saved one of her brothers.
Life after Naieem's death was hard, his presence was felt in every corner of the house. But everyone was trying to move on.
Noor was shocked that Rehman had still not taken his revenge from Babu Dakait. But she was not dumb, it was the political pressure of the elections which stopped rehman.
A month after the unfortunate incident, Noor was sitting in the garden, on the single bench that was there. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even notice Rehman taking a seat beside her. Rehman cleared his throat, breaking her out of her daze with a flinch.
"bhai?"
Rehman looked at her for a minute as if analysing her expression "Tujhe kya lagta hai, Naieem ka badla lena chahiye?"
A sensible part of Noor wanted to deny it, convince him that elections were near and it would be a lot of bad pr. But then a part of her felt that pain again, the pain of losing someone you love. And even if revenge won't bring Naieem back, it would still give him justice.
"Lena chahiye" she had whispered softly that she thought he didn't even hear her.
But the rehman nodded his head at her. The two sat in silence again, until Rehman spoke again "Chal andar, kafi thand hai yaha"
---
Noor sat in the factory again, nursing the minor wounds of gang members.
They had finally taken the revenge for Naieem. Rehman had cracked open Babu's head in the middle of Cheel Chauk and then declared the Balochi rule over lyari.
"Donga bhai, ispe zara zyada zor na dale" she instructs him as she finished patching up the small wound on his wrist.
Donga nodded at her and patted her head in appreciation.
Hamza was next. He quietly sat in front of her as she began prepping up the bandages and cotton.
"Haath laiye" she mutters. Hamza leans to his left and shows the gash on his arm. His eyes never leaving her as she began to clean the wound.
Noor grabbed the sanitizer and started to clean his wound. It was a small gash from the knife.
Hamza hissed as the sanitizer touched his skin. Noor's head snapped up and she looked at his face searching for signs of discomfort.
"Maaf kijiyega" she whispers
"Koi baat nahi" hamza nods at her and she continues her work.
Soon enough, his wound was all cleaned and patched up. And since he was the last patient of the day, Noor had decided to go back to the Haveli.
She grabbed her phone from the side table while Hamza rolled his sleeve down.
Uzair bhai
Noor mujhe aur bhai ko kisi masle se jaldi nikalna pad raha hai. Tum factory mein kisi ke saath aa jana
Noor internally cursed herself. She had seen the message too late and by now almost everyone had left.
"kya hua?" Hamza asked seeing her tense face.
"Woh bhai to kaam se gaye hai, aur donga bhai ya siyahi bhai bhi nahi dikhre. Ghar kiske saath jau?" She mutters while nervously biting her lips.
"Mein chord du?" Hamza asks
"Aree nahi aap kyu takleef karte hai, mein khud hi chali jaungi" she shook her head not wanting to be a inconvenience.
Hamza looked at her with an emotion Noor couldn't comprehend and said "Meri Ammi kehti thi aurat ki hifazat karne wale ko jannat naseeb hoti hai. Mujhse meri Jannat ki kursi na cheene"
Noor almost blushed at his words and then composed herself "Theek hai"
Hamza allowed her to pack her bag and then held the door for her to walk out.
The two walked together in the streets of Lyari, the sun dipping in the background and children running towards their homes.
Noor adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. Hamza walked beside her quietly. For some reason the silence did not feel awkward.
âCollege kaisa chal raha hai?â he asks after a while.
Noor looked at him in surprise. âJi?â
âCollege,â he repeats. âKaisa chal raha hai?â
âAchha chal raha hai. Bas imtehan qareeb aa rahe hain to thori masroof hoon.â
Hamza hums. âKya banna hai?â
Noor looked ahead. "Doctor.â
Hamza turned his head and looked at her properly "Doctor?"
Noor gulped the bile that threatened to rise in her throat and smiled forcefully "Ammi ke intekal ke baad se bas yahi khwaish hai"
Hamza nodded at her and sensed that the topic was not something she could indulge in easily.
Noor glanced at him from the corner of her eye and asked "Aapko kya bana tha?"
She had asked the question in past tense because she knew that no child dreams of being a gangster. But he was in this life now and there is no going back.
Hamza froze at her question. He had no answer to it.
Because Hamza Ali Mazari had no dreams for himself.
And also because Jaskirat Singh Rangi did. He wanted to serve his country, he wanted to wear that uniform, he wanted his sisters to tease him again, he wanted his father to look at him with pride, he wanted pinda to run with him in the fields again, he wanted his mother-
"Kuch nahi. Kabhi socha hi nahi" Hamza answers, his voice heavy
Noor looked at his expressions and realised the question in her mind was better left unheard.
They soon reached the haveli. Faisal who was playing outside immediately saw Noor and dropped his football. He ran towards her and hugged her waist tightly almost pushing Hamza in the process.
"Appi, aap itna late kesse ho gayi?! Aap janti hai kitni chinta-"
Noor laughed at his rambling and ruffled his hair. "Maaf karna Faisal. Chalo bhabhi ko bola khana laga dein. Mein aati hu"
Faisal nodded and ran inside calling for his mother.
Noor turned to Hamza and smiled at him "Shukriya. Mujhe ghar tak chordne ke liye"
Hamza nodded at her. Noor watched his back as it slowly disappeared and a small blush coated her cheeks.
--
Hamza had been clear for his mission. He had even planned to honey trap Jameel Jamali's daughter for it. But no matter how hard he tried, his mind was occupied by Noor.
He could not stop himself from thinking about her and hence he couldn't even ask Yalina out.
Today was the day of Rally. Hamza was guarding the place, keeping an eye out while Yalina and Noor sat together under one of the tents talking about some politicians' wife.
Hamza could not help but keep sneaking glances at Noor. She was wearing a beautiful pink anarkali suit, which hugged her form and curves perfectly. Her hair were left open and a dupatta was covering her head. She had worn heavy jhumkas as her only accessories. Her lipgloss shined under the sun and Hamza had an urge to wipe it off from her lips and taste it.
He internally groaned as he realised that he was way too gone for her. He needed to talk to Alam bhai, get some advice from him.
Hamza watched silently as Yalina's mother tried to drag the girls with her, and so he interrupted "Jameel sahab aapko stage par photo ke liye bula rahe hai"
She fixed her dupatta properly and urged the girls again but Hamza was quicker "Bas aapko" his sunglasses covered eyes flickered over to Noor who sat flushed beside Yalina.
As Hamza turned his back to the girls, Yalina shot her bestfriend a teasing look "Tujhe Hamza pasand hai"
Noor gave Yalina a panicked expression and looked around to see if anyone heard her.
"Tu pagal ho gayi hai" she hisses at Yalina.
"Pagal mein nahi pagal tu Ho gayi hai. Hamza bhai ke pyar mein"
Noor despite her best efforts blushed and gave Yalina a look "Kitne bade ho woh mujhse. Sharam kar"
Yalina nudged her gently with an elbow and said "8-9 saal hi to bade hai shayad. Tu ikkis ki hai. Woh honge athais-unattis ke"
"Yalinaa yaarr" Noor whined making the younger girl laugh at her.
Hamza had soon started getting closer to Noor. It started with when Rehman once asked him to pick up Noor from her college. Noor had insisted on him taking her out for food instead of directly taking her home because she was hungry and insisted on eating something 'chat-patta' before going home.
Hamza took this as an opportunity to get closer to her. He had realised that she could be his ladder to getting closer to Rehman.
And so he took her out. Then it started becoming a daily occurrence for them. Sometimes, he would take her to watch a movie, some days they would go for some junk food and the others, they would just take a walk around the beach.
noor loved to spend her time with Hamza. She would ramble for hours in front of him and he would patiently listen to her, offering his input whenever she needed, she enjoyed breading his hair and even though Hamza would never admit it, he liked it too.
noor had realised that there was something big coming, because there were long meetings happening in Rehman's cabin, he would be very secretive and even Hamza looked a little tense.
On the day of delivery, Faisal had fallen sick. Rehman and Ulfat had to rush him to the hospital and that left noor alone at home with Aflaq. She watched as everyone loaded stuff in the car with Uzair barking orders.
"Hamza?" She softly calls out seeing him walk towards her.
"Kya hua jaan?" He asks whispering. To anyone it would seem like a normal conversation.
"Hamza pata nahi daar lag raha hai, kuch off lag raha hai. Aap please ruk jayein" She requests grabbing his bicep. Her gut feeling was hardly ever wrong and she felt as if something bad was about to happen.
"Jaan chinta mat karo. Sab theek hai. Agar kuch galat lagta hai to mujhe phone karna" He whispers.
Hamza looked around and seeing that almost everyone was busy and not noticing them, he dropped a small kiss on her forehead. noor blushed and smiled softly at him as he walked off.
noor had gotten bored being at home and also felt a little hungry so she walked to the kitchen, to get some food and help Aflaq.
"Haan bhai, jo aapne diya tha meine bache ke khane mein mila diya hai. Rehman bhai ko utha liya kya sp ne?"
noor gasped and hid behind the pillar listening to him talk. The person on the other hand said something and Aflaq's face fell and he said "Ji bhai, woh paise bhijwa dein"
noor could not breath anymore and immediately rushed to her room, making sure she goes unnoticed. Her hands fumbled with her phone as she searched for Hamza's name in the contact list and dialed his number.
"Ham.....Hamza?" She gasped out once he picked up.
"Jaan abhi baat nahi kar sakta, SP ne bhai ko utha-"
"Hamza-Hamza Aflaq ne kuch..........usne kuch milaya hai Faisal ke khane mein......woh meine use baat karte hue-"
"Meri baat suno noor, apne kamre mein raho aur bahar mat aana jab tak mein na kahu"
"Haan, aap bas jaldi aa jao" She whispers and clutches her phone tightly.
noor cut the call and sat on her bed with a thud. She realised that she was sweating and drank a huge amount of water from her bottle. Taking a few deep breaths she watched her face and forced herself to look normal.
It had been exactly 10 minutes when "ALFAQQQ"
noor flinched at Hamza's voice and ran outside. She covered her mouth in fear as she saw Hamza cut off Alfaq's fingers one by one.
Alfaq shouted Arshad Pappu's name and noor felt her heart beat so loudly as if it could burst in her chest.
Uzair started dragging Alfaq and shouting curses at him but noor stood frozen. Hamza saw her by the door and walked towards her. He knew she had witnessed pure mayhem and was clearly very shaken. And he also knew Uzair would kill Alfaq.
"Jaan... waha mat dekho. Meri taraf dekho, mujhe dekho, bas meri awaz par dhyan do" Hamza whispers, cupping her cheeks with his blood stained hands. noor looked at him, her cheeks strained with tears.
"Hamza.....hamza woh.....woh" she whispers her eyes darting towards Alfaq and Uzair who had his gun raised at him.
"Mujhe dekho, bas mujhe, meri awaz par dhyan do." Hamza whispers forcing her face towards him.
A gunshot rang through the house and noor flinched violently and Hamza immediately hugged her shushing her.
Seeing that she had finally calmed down
"HAMZA SALE" Uzair shouted his anger now directed towards Hamza.
"Baad mein baat karenge, abhi rehman bhai ka soch" Hamza and Uzair looked at each other for a minute in silence before Uzair nodded.
Hamza exhaled and smiled at noor. He nodded at her and said "Dhyan rakhna rehman bhai ghar aa jayenge"
noor nodded and watched them leave.
True to his word, Hamza had bought Rehman back. Though he had needed noor's help and asked her to call Yalina at the haveli and then lied to Jameel that he kidnapped her.
By the end of the day, everyone was too exhausted and so noor and hamza's matter was unofficially delayed to the next day.
The next there was a huge celebration in Rehman's honor. He stood in the floor above staring directly at him.
"Rehman Dakait ki behen ghuma raha hai, socha hai iska anjaam hoga?" Rehman asks taking a drag out of his cigarette.
Hamza stayed silent as Rehman looked at him with an unreadable emotion.
"Sala humare peeche se humari hi-" Uzair was cut off by Rehman,
Rehman put out his cigarette and looked at Hamza "Ishq ya Ayashi?"
Hamza thought he would hesitate, after all he had himself convinced it was all mission. But before he could even register it the words left his mouth.
"Ishq"
Rehman smirked at him and patted his back. "Par agar usko kabhi rulaya na to uske aansu ponjhane se pehle, tera janaza uthwa dunga"
---
Hamza held noor's hand as he led her through his small apartment. They had been married and on noor's insistance the walima was held the same day.
"Kitna cute ghar hai aapka" she mutters looking around the small apartment. Hamza chuckles and pulls her in his arms
"Bilkul uski malkin ki tarah" he whispers looking at her,
They were both still dressed in their clothes from the walima, her in a heavy white lehenga, the dupatta still pinned over her head and her jewellery clinking with every movement.
But Hamza could only see her in red, wearing a punjabi bridal suit and chooda. He saw her as Jaskirat would.
"I love you" noor whispers wrapping her arms around his neck.
Hamza kissed her forehead in reply and pulled her closer into the hug.
---
Within the first week of their married life, Hamza fell sick. Uzair had a good laugh about it saying that noor's food must be the reason.
"Hamza yeh lijiye" She whispers feeding him the homemade kada that Ulfat gave her recepie for.
"Jaan tum itni tension mat lo, bukhar hai theek ho jayega" he tried to reassure her but she had taken Uzair's words to heart.
"Hamza suniyee woh meine kuch dawaiyan aapko di thi, aapne kaha rakhi hai?" She asked
Hamza grumbled "Drawer mein hai jaana"
noor nodded and walked from the sofa/bed to the space where his desk was. She opened it and just as she was searching for the medicine, she found felt something liquid leak from a somewhere.
"Yeh kya hai?" noor whispers and sees the wet liquid reaching the diary.
"Aree shit" She mutters and pulls the diary out.
She used her dupatta to remove the wet liquid from the cover and just as she was about to put it back curiosity got the best of her and she opened it from the latch.
Half of the pages were visible while half were invisible. Her heartbeat quickened as she flipped through the pages. They held records of all the attacks on India along with who was responsible for it.
Just as she flipped another page, her mind went blank. There was another name, it was half visible but she could easily decode it.
R E H DA I
"noor?" Hamza stood behind her.
noor turned towards him, still holding the diary in her hands. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears "Aap hindustani agent ho?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Hamza hesitated for a minute "noor mujhe samjha-"
Her head snapped up towards him and she dropped the diary on the floor. Her hands flung to his collar and pulled him close "Sach batana hamza, biwi hu mein aapki, mohabat kari hai meine aapse, nikah kara hai. Mujhe sach batao, hindustani agent ho tum?'
Hamza's strong demeanor broke and a sob left his mouth before he could even stop it.
"Haan, hu mein ek hindustani!" He admits falling on his knees and crying.
"Humare beech ki mohabbat kabhi sachi thi?" noor asks, her own tears rolling down her cheeks. She sat down beside him, looking at her green eyes. In the early days of their marriage, she had felt like she learnt everything about him from his smallest habits to his greatest fear.
Hamza cups her cheeks, his hands shaking to even touch her "Agar iss zindagi mein kuch sacha hai, to woh meri mohabbat hai tumhare liye"
noor let out yet another sob and hugged Hamza tightly, burying her face in his chest.
"Jaan?" He whispers.
"Aap hindustani ho, meri tarah" She whispers
"Hein?"
She broke the hug and cupped his cheeks softly. "Hamza meri maa hindustani thi, mein hindustani hu"
---
Life had changed drastically for the two of them since that day. Hamza had set up a small mandir for her in their house. It was well hidden inside the cupboard. They had also set up a photo of Waheguru ji there. Hamza had also promised her that there will be no secrets between them anymore.
Hamza had planned 9 August for the death of Rehman. The plan was set and in complete motion.
That morning noor took a long time admiring her husband's sleeping face. Her mind was filled with fear that it might be the last time she sees him.
"Hamza?" noor whispers
"Bolo jaana?' He asks pulling her closer against his chest.
"Mere paas wapas aa jana please" She whispers
Hamza seperates himself from her and takes her face in his hands "Humesha jaan, humesha"
That night, noor sat in front of the TV watching the news anchor display the news of Rehman's death.
She did not even realise when she started to cry, her tears falling heavily. She felt this guilt in her heart, the guilt of betraying the brother that took her in and gave her a family, the pain of betraying Ulfat who considered her as a sister, Faisal who was probably broken all over again.
"I am sorry, I am so sorry" She sobs cluchting her dupatta to her chest.
A heavy knock was heard on the front door making noor flinch. She rose to her feet, her legs feeling numb and opened the door.
Hamza stood on the other side, he was completely bloodied. noor sobbed again and hugged him not caring about the blood staining her clothes.
Hamza hugged her back whispering "Bhook lagi hai" over and over again.
"Aap..aap naha lein. Mein khana laa rahi hu"
Hamza did not respond but walked to the washroom, noor walked to the kitchen and heated up the daal chawal she had prepared earlier that day.
When Hamza came out of the bath, noor felt her heart break all over again. His entire body was filled with bruises. Though the blood was clean she could finally see all the wounds.
Hamza sat on the sofa and noor placed the plate of daal and chawal in front of him. Just as she turned around to get her kit, she noticed how Hamza's hands were shaking and he could not even eat properly.
So noor took the plate herself and gathered the rice in her hands, she slowly fed him and Hamza ate like a baby, noor could feel fresh tears run down her face again but she choose to ignore them.
Once the food was finished, Hamza got up and took out his diary. His hands were still shaking as he flipped through the pages and tried to find Rehman's name in it.
noor took the pen from the table and crossed off Rehman's name from the list. She put the invisible ink on the pages again and put the diary back in the drawer.
Hamza pulled her into his arms, hugging her close. She buried her face in his chest, her entire figure disappearing in his arms.
---
10 YEARS LATER
Hamza's bloodied hand shook as he dialed noor's contact sitting on the train track.
"Hamza? Hamza Omar ko sach pata chal gaya hai? Woh usne yalina ko-" noor tried to explain, her hand cradling her 6 month pregnant belly.
"Mera asli naam jana chahogi?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
noor stopped in her tracks and held the phone even tighter against her ear.
"Hamza...." She whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Jaskirat.........Jaskirat singh Rangi" Hamza Jaskirat whispers
"Jaskirat" noor whispered with a smile. Jaskirat let out a sob as he heard his name from her, for the first and probably for the last time.
"I love you Jaskirat" noor whispered, clutching her belly.
"I love you noor" Jaskirat whispered, probably for the first time. He had always expressed his love towards her through actions, by always protecting her, helping her and encouraging her towards her dream of becoming a doctor, being the most proud at her graduation and now, during these 6 months of pregnancy.
As the call disconnected, noor fell on the sofa, breaking down. Her sobs rang through the empty house, as she clutched the tickets to London in her one hand.
"Bhabhi!" noor looked up and saw Rizwan rushing towards her.
"Rizwan?" she whispers getting up.
"Chaliye hume chalna hoga" He ushers her towards the door, grabbing her packed bags with himself.
"Rizwan bhai, par aap?" She looks at him confused.
"Bhabhi, Hamza ka sach Pakistani agencies ko pata chal gaya hai, they will also suspect me, since I am his right hand. I have recieved orders from Sanyal Sir to take you and board the flight to London" Rizwan explains as he helps her in the car.
"Par Jaskirat?" She whispers looking at him.
Rizwan paused as he realised the name she took. "Pata nahi. Abhi aapki security assure karna priority hai."
1 month later
noor had to admit that Rizwan Kabir was a great help to her. But she missed her husband. Her heart longed for Jaskirat and she just wanted him by her side.
In this whole month, noor had no information about Jaskirat, she did not even know if he is alive or not. But when the news of Uzair Baloch being an Indian Spy came out, noor was sure Jaskirat was alive.
She had spent the whole month in the house, only leaving for doctor appointments. She would start her day by lighting a diya in the mandir, and praying for his safe return.
She was currently sitting on the sofa, Kabir was in the kitchen fixing her a fruit salad when the doorbell rang.
noor pushed herself up from the sofa, despite Kabir telling her that he would attend to the door. She had always been the first to rush to the door every time just in hope to see Hamza.
noor's twisted the handle open and tears gathered in her eyes looking at the man in front of her. Her Jaskirat, her husband. He surely looked different, he was wearing a simple tee and jeans, his beard was trimmed. But what caught her eye was the pagg on his head.
She threw her arms over him and buried her face in his neck, sobbing loudly.
Jaskirat pulled himself apart from her and admired her. She was wearing a simple suit, her belly now even bigger, their twins are surely growing properly. However, the highlight of her look for him was the sindoor in her hairline, depicting her married status.
Jaskirat cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead. He joined his head with hers and said-
"Meine tumhe kaha tha na Jaan, humesha tumhare paas hi wapis aaunga"
taglist- anyone who was left, please drop a text in my dms
NOTE: MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT! This content is intended for audiences 18+ only, since later chapters will involve Smut!
A/N: Hi my pyaaris! It is so nice to be back and the love and support i recieve from you guys is absolutely insane! Thank you so much for almost 600 Followers! Its absolutely insane to me that so many people read and love what i write and ill continue to make you happy and write lots for you.
Now, for this Fic.. it is based on a Dream i had shortly after watching the movie. Jaskirat's story sat with me, affected me, still does- so much that i really wished his story continued. Where's he now? Where did he go? Without sugarcoating anything and being realistic about everything, i started to write. I hope all of you will enjoy / appreciate this fic, since it became my favorite very fast. Enjoy!
Warnings; agegap, traumatic experiences, mention of selfharm / suicide, mention of assault, violence against women, violence in general, injuries, sepsis, big trigger warning for this chapter.
Part 1 of ?
The floorboards didn't creak. They were as tired as he was, settled into a permanent, sagging silence.
Jaskirat stood on the wooden chairâa cheap, rickety thing heâd found in a junkyardâand looked at the wall. It wasn't a wall he saw, but a void. The ceiling fan above him hummed with a low, rhythmic vibration that felt like a heartbeat he no longer wanted to share. The coarse hemp of the rope was a rough caress against the skin of his neck, a stark contrast to the softness of the life he had once known. Before he had to bury himself under Hamza, a man that was driven by Revenge. A man he buried 3 years ago, right next to Jassi, a 21 year old boy with a soft smile and big dreams..
He stood perfectly still. His breathing was shallow, disciplinedâthe breath of a soldier, a ghost, a man who had mastered the art of being invisible.
Outside, the wind whipped through the desolate plains of this nameless town, rattling the corrugated tin roof of his shack. But inside, there was only the gravity of his own existence, pulling at his heels, begging him to just finally kick.. To let go. To end the noise.
His mind, usually a fortress of iron-clad focus, began to fracture.
He wondered about the Government. The men in dark suits who had once kidnapped him from the Police Transport. Did they still look for him? Or had they finally checked a box in a dusty file, marking him as 'Expendable Assets Lost'?
Maybe they knew he was alive. Maybe they let him run because a broken tool is of no use to a machine. He had been their finest blade, sharpened in the fires of vengeance and tempered in the blood of his enemies. But even the strongest steel snaps if you bend it too far. They had pushed him until he wasn't a patriot anymoreâjust a hollowed-out shell filled with the echoes of screams. He hoped they had forgotten him. He hoped they had accepted his disappearance as a final act of desertion, a silent respect, perhaps.
But the government was a shadow. His family... they were the sun. And the sun burned.
Yalina...
Her name felt like a laceration. He could almost smell the faint scent of jasmine on her skin, hear the way her breath hitched when he laughed. He had left her in the dark. To her, he was a martyr or a criminalâa man buried in a Pakistanj prison or a grave in a foreign land. He had let her believe he was dead because the truth was more dangerous. If he were alive, he was a target. If he was a target, she was leverage.
He closed his eyes, and he could see Zayan..
His son would be older now. Would he remember the way Jaskiratâs hands feltâthose same hands that were now reaching for the rope? Would Zayan grow up hating a father who chose a flag over a family? Or would he simply grow up with a hole in his heart where a manâs shadow used to be?
And his mother. His sister. They were mourners of a living man. He imagined them on festival days, perhaps lighting a lamp for him, perhaps whispering his name in prayers meant for the departed. They would never know he was standing in a shack in a small town, 400 miles away, preparing to make their nightmare a permanent reality. They would never know he survived the police, the betrayals, Lyari, Rehman Dakait, Major Iqbal..and the revenge, only to be defeated by a Tuesday night in a room that smelled of dust and despair.
The loneliness wasn't a feeling anymore; it was a physical weight. It sat on his shoulders, heavier than any weight heâd ever carried. For three years, he had been a man with no name. He had worked in fields, cleaned grease from engines, anything where people wouldn't ask his name.
He had spoken fewer than a thousand words in three years.
He was a ghost haunting his own life. Every night, the silence of the shack grew louder, screaming at him about the things he had doneâthe necks he had snapped, the lies he had told, the blood he had spilled in the name of a 'greater good' that now felt like a punchline.
What was a warrior without a war?
What was a man without a home?
The chair beneath him felt unstable. He liked that. He liked the honesty of it.
He looked at his hands. They were calloused, scarred, and steady. Even now, at the edge of the abyss, his body refused to tremble. It was a soldierâs body, trained to endure. But his soul was tired. It was frayed at the edges, unraveling into nothingness. He had fought for his country, he had fought for revenge, and he had fought to survive.
But he had nothing left to fight for now.
He took a deep breath, the rope tightening slightly. The air was cold. He thought of the endless fields, the fresh punjabi air of his hometown, and the warmth of a kitchen that was now a thousand lifetimes away. He thought of the man he used to beâthe one who believed in honor, in justice, in the future.
That man was gone.
"Forgive me.." he breathed, to Yalina? His son? Perhaps his Mother and Sister? To his best friend, Pinda? Which he had lost in the battle? Maybe to all of them..?
He looked ahead, his gaze fixing on a knot in the wood of the wall. One movement. A shift of weight. A release.
The world stayed quiet. No one was coming to save him. No one even knew he was there.
He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, the chair groaning in anticipation.
"Just one step," he thought. "Just one step to go home."
A scream.
It wasnât the wind. It wasnât the phantom echo of his own nightmares or the screams of the men he had left behind. It was real. It was high, sharp, and jaggedâa sound that tore through the silence of the Town like a rusted blade.
Jaskirat froze. His muscles, honed by decades of survival, reacted before his mind could catch up.
"Ignore it." his soul whispered. "Itâs not your war. Youâre already dead."
He closed his eyes, tightening his grip on the rope, forcing his weight back onto the center of the chair. He waited for the silence to return, for the void to reclaim him.
"Nahin! Chhodo mujhe!"
The voice came again, closer this time, followed by the sickening sound of a heavy blowâmeat hitting meatâand the clatter of something metal hitting the cobblestones. Then came the laughter. It was a guttural, jagged soundâthe laughter of men who knew no one was coming. In these backstreets, in the labyrinthine shadows, a scream was just background noise. People closed their shutters. They turned up their radios. They minded the business of staying alive.
Jaskirat stared at the wall. "Let it go.." he told himself.
But the womanâs sob wasn't fading. It was turning into a wet, desperate wheeze.
Something inside Jaskiratâs chestâsomething he thought he had successfully killed three years ago when he crossed the border back into India, only to realize he no longer fit in the world he had fought to protectâsnapped. It wasn't a sense of duty. It wasn't patriotism. It was a primal, ugly instinct...the instinct of a son, of a brother, of a true man.
He didn't untie the noose. He reached up, his fingers moving with a terrifying, mechanical speed, and sliced through the hemp with a small, sharpened piece of scrap metal he kept in his pocket.
The rope fell. Jaskirat stepped off the chair.
Everything went do fast, almost like in a trance.
He didn't use the door. He moved through the back window, his boots hitting the dirt with the silence of a predatory cat. The air in Toen was thick with the smell of fear. He moved through the shadows, making sure to stay unoticed.
He rounded the corner of the alleyway behind his shack.-
The scene was bathed in the flickering, sickly yellow light of a dying streetlamp. It was exactly as his intuition had mapped it.
Three men. They were young, fueled by a toxic mix of cheap chemicals and the arrogance of the predator. One held a knife, spinning it casually. The second held her downâa young woman, her clothes torn, her face a mask of terror and blood. The third was unbuckling his belt, his face twisted into a grin that made Jaskiratâs vision turn a searing, monochromatic white.
She looked so small. She looked like the world he had failed. She looked like the innocence he had traded for a gun and a fake passport....she looked like Jasleen.
Jasleen... the flashback to that night he found her in that tiny hutt.. alone- hurt.. like this girl right now. She had no facial similarity to his sister whatsoever, but the scenery...something in him snapped.
Jaskirat didn't shout. He didn't give a warning. A spy doesn't announce his presence; he merely changes the environment.
The man with the knife was the first to feel it. He didn't even hear Jaskirat approach. One moment he was laughing, and the next, a hand like a vice gripped his wrist, twisting it until the bone screamed. The knife dropped, but before it hit the ground, Jaskirat caught it in mid-air.
With a fluid, horrifying grace, Jaskirat drove the butt of the knife into the manâs temple
Not a killing blow, but enough to shut his world down. The man crumpled like a suit of empty clothes.
The other two froze. The one holding the woman looked up, his eyes widening as he saw the silhouette of a man who looked like he had crawled out of a grave.
"Kaun hai tu?!" the man stammered, scrambling to rise.
Jaskirat didn't answer. He didn't have a name to give.
He stepped into the light. His face was a mask of cold, dead stone. He grew older, on the edge of 50 by now, but he didn't loose his bite, the hard work on the fields kept him in shape.
The second man lunged, swinging a heavy iron pipe. Jaskirat didn't flinch. He stepped into the strike, narrowing the distance. He took the blow on his shoulderâa dull thud that would have broken a normal manâs collarboneâbut Jaskirat didn't even blink. He buried his elbow into the manâs throat.
The sound was like a dry branch snapping. The man fell back, clutching his neck, gasping for air that wouldn't come.
Then there was the third. The one who had been touching her.
He had backed away, pulling a snub-nosed pistol from his waistband. His hands were shaking. "Peechay hat! Main goli maar doonga!"
Jaskirat kept walking. His heart wasn't racing. It was steady. For the first time in three years, the noise in his head had stopped.
"Dar se kaanp rahe ho?" Jaskirat said. His voice was a low, gravelly raspâthe first time he had spoken in months. It sounded like grinding stones.
"Main keh raha hoon, ruk ja!"
"You won't pull that trigger.." Jaskirat said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Because if you do, you lose your only chance to run. And I am the only thing you should be running from."
The man fired.
The bullet grazed Jaskiratâs ribs, tearing through his shirt and leaving a red-hot trail across his skin. Jaskirat didn't even break his stride. He was on the man in a heartbeat. He gripped the gun, his thumb jamming behind the hammer so it couldn't fire again. With his other hand, he seized the manâs throat and slammed him against the brick wall with a force that cracked the masonry.
He held him there, inches off the ground. The manâs legs kicked uselessly.
"She was crying." Jaskirat whispered, his eyes boring into the manâs soul. "And you liked it..!"
He could have killed him. It would have been so easy. A sharp twist, a sudden thrust. He could feel the familiar pull of the abyss, the hunger of Hamza to finish the job. The government had spent millions of rupees to turn him into a weapon that didn't know how to mercy.
But then, he heard a small, trembling gasp from behind him.
He looked back. The woman was huddled against a crate, her eyes wide with a different kind of fear. She wasn't just afraid of the men who had attacked her. She was terrified. Terrified of seeing something gruesome.
He didn't kill the man. He slammed his head against the brick once, twice, until the man went limp, and then he dropped him like the trash he was.
The alley fell silent, save for the heavy, ragged breathing of the two survivors.
Jaskirat stood in the center of the carnage. His rib was bleeding. His shoulder was screaming in pain. The noose was still waiting for him in the shack, but the cold, clinical clarity of the mission had replaced the fog of that thought.
He turned slowly toward the woman.
You flinched, pulling your torn shawl tighter around your shoulders. Your hair was a mess, and a dark bruise was already forming on your cheek.
She's youngâ he thought. Too young to know the kind of darkness that lived in the heart of the man standing before her.
Jaskirat reached out a hand, then immediately pulled it back, realizing how terrifying he must look. He cleared his throat, the sound painful.
"Are you..." he paused, the word 'okay' feeling like a lie. "Can you walk?"
You stared at him, chest heaving. You looked at the three broken bodies on the ground, then back at the man who had appeared from the shadows like a vengeful deity.
"Who... who are you?" You whispered, your voice trembling.
Jaskirat looked toward his shack, toward the life he had tried to end, and then back at the woman he had accidentally saved. The government didn't know he was here. His family thought he was a ghost. He was a man with no country, no name, and no future..
"Nobody." he said, his voice softening just a fraction.
He moved toward you, not with the predatory grace of a soldier, but with the hesitant, broken gait of a man trying to remember how to be human. He reached down and picked up your fallen bag, handing it to her with a hand thatâfor the first time in three yearsâwas finally beginning to shake.
"Come.." he said. "You can't stay here."
As he helped her up, your fingers brushed against his calloused palm. The contact felt like an electric shock. To him, it was a reminder of a world he had abandoned. To you, it was the first anchor in a world that had just tried to tear you apart.
â"You're bleeding.." you said, your voice small but clear.
The silence between your two started right after he had helped you up, and lasted until you finally found your voice again.
â"Itâs not nothing. That bullet... it hit you. I saw it."
â"Keep your head down and keep walking." he rasped. His tone wasn't cruel, but it was thick with a finality that discouraged conversation. It was the voice of a man who had spent years giving orders that meant the difference between life and death..
âYou fell silent for a moment, but the adrenaline pulsing through your veins wouldn't let you stay quiet. You were a teacher; you spent your days explaining the world to children, finding logic in chaos. But there was no logic to this man. He lived in a shack that looked ready to collapse, yet he fought like a storm.
â"Iâve lived in this neighborhood my whole life.." You started again, stepping over a puddle of stagnant water. "Iâve never seen you. And I would have noticed someone like you."
âJaskiratâs jaw tightened. "That was the point."
â"Why did you help me..?" You asked, your curiosity finally outweighing your fear. "Most people... they would have just closed their doors. Especially here. Especially tonight.."
âJaskirat stopped so abruptly she nearly ran into his back. He turned, and the yellow light of a distant moon caught the scars on his faceâscars that told stories of wars and betrayals he would never put into words.
â"I didn't help you to start a conversation." he said, his eyes hard. "I helped you because the noise was annoying. Now, keep moving. We are three blocks from the main road. Where do you live?"
âYou flinched at his coldness, but you didn't look away. There was something beneath the frost in his voiceâa deep, resonant exhaustion that you recognized. It was the look of someone who had seen the end of the world and was frustrated that it was still turning.
â"The blue gate near the dispensary.." you whispered. "My father... heâs the doctor there."
âJaskirat nodded once and resumed walking, his pace slightly faster.
â
âAs they neared the edge of the residential district, where the houses were built of sturdier brick and the streetlamps actually worked, you felt a strange shift. The terror was being replaced by a profound sense of debt. You looked at his handâthe one that had held the gunman by the throatâand saw that his knuckles were split and raw.
â"My father..!" You began again, more confident this time. "He can help you. If you come inside, he can stitch that wound properly. He won't ask questions. Heâs used to people who need help without being asked who they are.."
â"I don't need a doctor," Jaskirat said.
â"You might. Infection in this heat is a death sentence. And you took a blow to the shoulder with an iron pipe. You aren't even flinching, but I know it hurts."
âJaskirat stopped again, this time turning fully to face her. He looked at youâreally looked at youâfor the first time. Young..around 25, eyes filled with an earnestness that felt like a physical weight on his chest.
â"Listen to me.." he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous hum. "I am not a man to worry about, I am not a neighbor. I am a ghost. You go inside that house, you lock the door, and you forget you ever saw me. You tell your Father about these boys, but you do not mention the man from the shack. Do you understand?"
â"I can't do that." You challenged, your voice trembling but firm. "You saved my life. I don't care if you think you're a ghost, Ghosts don't bleed, and they don't save a girl from being hurt. Only living good people do."
âJaskirat felt a spike of genuine irritation, masked by a deeper, more uncomfortable emotion. She was digging into him, her words acting like a probe into a wound heâd spent three years cauterizing.
â"What is your name?" You asked suddenly.
âThe question hit him like a physical blow. Jaskirat. The name felt heavy, forbidden. It belonged to a soldier of India. It belonged to a husband in a fading photograph. It belonged to a man who was supposed to be dead.
â"I don't have one." he said.
â"Everyone has a name."
â"Not tonight."
âYou stepped closer, refusing to be dismissed. "Fine. Then keep your name. But remember this: the blue gate. If the wound gets worse, if you find yourself with nowhere to go, or if those men have friends who come looking... you come to the blue gate. My family owes you.. I.. owe you this."
â
âThey reached the end of the alley. Ahead of them stood a modest but well-kept house. A sturdy blue iron gate stood at the entrance, a symbol of safety in a neighborhood that offered very little of it. A light was on in the upper window; someone was waiting up for her.
âJaskirat stayed in the shadows of the last building, refusing to step into the light of your home. He watched you stand by the gate, your hand on the latch.
â"Go inside." he commanded.
âYou paused, looking back at the dark silhouette he had become. You looked at the blood soaking into his shirt, and then at his eyes.
â"Thank you.." she whispered. "For the noise being annoying."
âA ghost of a smileâsomething so faint it might have been a trick of the lightâtouched Jaskiratâs lips for a fraction of a second before his face returned to its stony mask.
â"Lock the gate, be safe." was all he said.
âHe stood there, motionless, as you pushed the heavy iron open. He watched ypu walk to the front door, heard the frantic voices of your family as they saw her torn clothes and bruised face. He heard the door slam and the bolt slide into place.
âOnly then did Jaskirat turn away.
âHe walked back toward the darkness, his hand clutching his side. The adrenaline was fading, and the pain was beginning to bloomâa sharp, hot fire in his ribs and a dull, throbbing ache in his soul.
âHe thought of the noose hanging in his shack. He thought of the chair.
âBut as he looked at his handâthe hand you had almost touchedâhe realized he couldn't go back to the rope. Not tonight..
4 days later;
It had been four long days since the night in the alley..
For you, those four days were a blur of whispered conversations and stifled gasps. Your mother had spent the first forty-eight hours hovering over you, applying cooling pastes to the bruise on your cheek and weeping silently into her dupatta. Your older brother, Rohan, had spent that same time pacing the porch, his hand white-knuckled around a cricket bat, cursing the men who had laid a hand on his sister.
But your father, Dr. Rathore, had been the quietest of all. He had listened to your story with the clinical intensity of a man used to diagnosing hidden traumas. He didn't ask about the attackers; he asked about the man who had stopped them.
"You said he didn't use a weapon?" your father had asked on the second night, his brow furrowed as he cleaned your minor scrapes.
"He was the weapon, Papa" you had whispered. "He didn't move like someone who was angry. He moved like someone who was... certain."
Every afternoon, after the school bell rang and the children dispersed into the dusty streets of the village, you took the long way home. You walked past the row of dilapidated shacks on the outskirtsâthe place where the seasonal laborers and the drifters lived.
You looked for a man with a beard matted with dust. You looked for a man with a shoulder that should be sagging and a side that should be burning with the fire of an untreated bullet graze.
But there was nothing.
The worry was a constant, low-frequency thrum in your chest. You knew the reality of wounds in this heat. You knew that even a man made of iron could be felled by a microscopic infection. You pictured him lying on a dirt floor, his body shivering with a fever he refused to acknowledge, his pride keeping him from the blue gate you had promised him safety behind.
Dinner on the fourth night was a quiet affair. The house felt smaller than usual, crowded by the unspoken presence of the stranger.
"He hasn't come," your mother said, placing a bowl of dal on the table. She looked at your father, her eyes pleading. "If he is as badly hurt as she says, he might not be able to come."
Rohan looked up from his plate, his jaw set. "Iâve been asking around at the grain market. Nobody knows a man like that. A few people mentioned a 'silent one' who works for them from time to time, but they say he hasn't shown up for work since Tuesday."
You felt a cold knot tighten in your stomach. Tuesday was the day after the attack..
"Men like that don't want to be found.." your father said softly, stirring his tea. "In my years of practice, Iâve seen them before. Soldiers who have seen too much. Men who carry wars inside them long after the guns have gone silent. They think that by staying alone, they keep the world safe from the darkness they carry."
"But heâs not the darkness," you argued, leaning forward. "He saved me. He took a bullet for a stranger. Papa, if he dies in some corner of this town because heâs too proud or too broken to ask for help, how can we live with that?"
Your father looked at you, really looked at you. He saw the way your hands trembled when you spoke of himânot with fear, but with a desperate, protective urgency.
The room fell into a heavy silence. The ceiling fan whirred, cutting through the thick, dry air.
Your father stood up suddenly, his chair scraping against the floorboards. He walked over to the corner of the room and picked up his worn leather medical bag. He checked the seal on the antibiotics, the rolls of sterile gauze, and the bottles of antiseptic.
He looked at the bruise on your face, now fading to a dull yellow, and then at the door.
He reached out and squeezed your shoulder, a silent acknowledgement of the bond you had formed with a man you didn't even know.
"A doctorâs duty doesn't stop at the doorstep," your father said, his voice firm. He looked at you, then at the coat hanging by the door.
"You're the only one who knows exactly where he must live" he said.
He stepped toward the exit, his shadow long against the wall. He paused at the threshold, the moonlight catching the grey in his hair, before turning back to you.
"Bring me there."
You didn't wait another second.
The dry creek bed was a graveyard of discarded industry. Stacks of cracked bricks stood like jagged tombstones under the pale, indifferent light of a Rajasthani moon. Here, the air didn't just feel dry; it felt dead.
"Is this it?" your father whispered, his voice hushed as if afraid to wake the spirits of the place.
You nodded, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. "The one with the corrugated tin roof. He... he appeared fron the shadows behind it that night..!"
Rohan walked slightly ahead, a heavy flashlight in his hand. The beam cut through the darkness, illuminating swirling dust and the skeletal remains of rusted machinery. When the light hit the door of the small, square hut, your breath hitched.
The door was slightly ajar. It hung crookedly on a single hinge, swaying a fraction of an inch in the breeze with a rhythmic, metallic clink-clink-clink
"Stay behind me." your father commanded, his professional mask slipping into place.
As you stepped onto the threshold, Rohan swung the flashlight into the room.
The beam swept over a floor of packed earth, a single wooden chair that had been shoved violently into a corner, and a length of hemp rope lying coiled like a dead snake in the center of the room. Finally, the light landed on a low, wooden cot in the corner.
Him.
He was sprawled on his back, his legs hanging off the edge of the thin mattress. His chest was bare, his skin a terrifying, sickly grey. Even from the doorway, you could see the dark, angry streaks of red creeping upward from his ribcageâthe telltale map of sepsis marching toward his heart.
"Oh, God.." you gasped, rushing forward despite your fatherâs warning.
He didn't move. The man who had moved like a hurricane in the alley was now as still as a fallen statue. His eyes were closed, the lashes dark against his sunken sockets. His breathing was shallow, a ragged, wet sound that rattled deep in his throat.
Your father was on his knees beside the cot in an instant. He pressed two fingers to Jaskiratâs neck.
"His fever is high.." your father muttered, his hands moving with practiced speed. He peeled back the blood-stiffened rag Jaskirat had used to bind his side.
You recoiled. The graze from the bullet had turned into an ugly, weeping crater. The surrounding flesh was swollen and purple, pulsing with the poison of the street-level filth that had entered his bloodstream.
"Rohan, help me..!" your father barked. "We have to get him into the truck. Now. If he stays here, he won't see the sunrise."
Rohan moved to the head of the cot, his initial suspicion of the man replaced by a grim, soldierly respect for the state of his injuries. Together, they began the grueling task of lifting him.
Jaskirat groanedâa sound of pure, unadulterated agony that seemed to come from the very marrow of his bones. For a brief second, his eyes flickered open. They were bloodshot, unfocused, and wild. His hand shot out with a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a dying man, his fingers locking around Rohanâs throat.
"No!" you screamed, grabbing his arm. "Itâs us! We're helping you!"
The sound of your voice seemed to act as a tether. His gaze drifted toward you, the predatory fire in his eyes fading into a confused, glassy haze. His grip loosened, his hand falling back to the dirt with a heavy thud.
"Yalina...?" he wheezed, the name barely a ghost of a sound.
"No.." you whispered, your heart breaking for a woman you didn't know. "Itâs me, From the alley. Please, let us help you..!"
He didn't speak again. He slumped back into unconsciousness, his body becoming a dead weight in their arms.
The drive back to the house was a nightmare of silence and speed. You sat in the back of the truck, Jaskiratâs head resting in your lap. He was burning. You could feel the heat radiating off him through your clothes, a dry, searing fever that made him tremble in violent, sudden jolts.
You used a corner of your dupatta to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Up close, without the mask of his terrifying competence, he looked so...hurt.
"Who are you..?" you whispered to the wind as the truck rattled over the uneven roads. "What did they do to you...?"
You thought of the rope you had seen on the floor of the shack. You realized with a jolt of horror that he hadn't been annoyed by noise, he was distracted from taking his life.
When you arrived at the blue gate, your mother was already there, holding it wide. She didn't ask questions. She saw the state of the man and immediately began clearing the table in the small clinic room attached to the house.
The next few hours were a blur of antiseptic and blood.
Your father worked with a grim intensity. He didn't have the equipment of a major hospital, but he had the hands of a man who had spent forty years stitching the world back together. You stood by his side, handing him instruments, cleaning the sweat from his brow, and holding Jaskiratâs arm steady when his body convulsed in a fever-dream.
"The sepsis is deep.." your father said, his voice tight. "The bullet didn't stay in, but it took pieces of his shirt with it. Itâs been festering for days."
He began the process of debriding the woundâcutting away the dead, infected tissue. Jaskirat didn't wake up, but he began to thrash. His muscles corded like steel cables, his body fighting the very hands trying to save him.
"Hold him!" your father shouted.
Rohan leaned over Jaskiratâs chest, pinning his shoulders, while you gripped his hands. His palms were rough, covered in scars..
"He's fighting a war in there.." Rohan muttered, struggling to keep the man down.
Jaskirat began to mutter in his delirium. It wasn't just Hindi. There were snatches of Urdu, Punjabi, fragments of a dialect you didn't recognize, and namesâso many names.. Yalina...Zayan, Rehman-Bhai, Uzair...Pinda, Jasleen..
There was the same question in everyones eyes at this moment;
What in gods name happened to this poor man?
As the first streaks of lavender and gold began to bleed across the Jaipur sky, the chaos in the clinic finally subsided.
The wound was cleaned and dressed in thick layers of white gauze. An IV drip was hanging from a makeshift stand, slowly pumping high-dose antibiotics into his veins. The fever hadn't broken yet, but the terrifying grey tinge of his skin had faded into a pale, exhausted white.
Your father slumped into a chair, his surgical mask hanging around his neck. He looked older than he had that morning.
"He's stable.." your father said, his voice raspy. "For now. But the next twenty-four hours will tell us if his heart is as strong as his will."
Rohan and your mother had gone to get some rest, leaving you alone in the quiet room with the man who had no name. The only sound was the steady drip... drip... drip... of the IV and the distant call of a morning bird.
You pulled a chair close to the bed. You watched the way his chest rose and fellâslow, steady, and stubborn. He was a stranger.. He was a man who had tried to die, and yet, here he was, breathing the air of your home.
You reached out, hesitantly, and touched the back of his hand. It was still warm, but the unnatural heat was gone.
"You're save now.." you whispered.
In the quiet of the morning, you stayed there, a silent guardian over a fallen warrior. You knew that when he woke up, he would likely be angry. He would be confused. He would maybe even try to run... But as the sun rose over the blue gate, you knew one thing for certain: the silence of neither his or your life would ever, ever be the same again after this night..
Summary: Hamza's promise to you to bring you back to your shared motherland with him.
Pairing: Hamza Ali Mazari x fem!reader
Genre: angst
Warnings: spoilers if you haven't already watched the movie ig, mention of blood (tell me if any)
Word count: 2.5k
A/n: i cried while writing the last part....to my beloved, my muse @hamzaalimazari đ ehehehe he got the vn of me sobbing while writing this...to my readers please trust the process and the author. Characters aren't mine, this fic is purely dedicated to the movie based "character" and not anything in reality, IT'S PURELY FICTIONAL.
The black jeeps were parked outside the villa. You generally hated this feeling, it's gut wrenching in all ways possible. Hamza, your husband was dressed in his signature black kurta, a vest over it and a long black jacket. He looked neat, his hair fell in cascading waves down his back making him look like a babbar sher.
But the scene holds more than that. You are standing outside, in front of him near his black Hummer jeep. You have already seen that small bundle of files kept over his jeepâs bonnet but for now you ignore it, directing your attention back to the man in front of you. You knew when he was tense, veins visible, jaw tight as if he was holding back something dangerous.
Your eyes met, words weren't enough for what you both were feeling right now. You tried to speak but words couldn't come out so tears did and Hamza didn't waste a second before pulling you into his arms. You're flush against his firm chest. His hands rubbing your back as a reassurance of the promise he made to you, back when you moved in with him in his kabutttarkhana.
âWada kiya tha tumse meri jaan. Agar aese aasu bahaogi to mujhe lagega ki tumhe mujh par bharosa nhi hai.â His words reminded you of the promise he had made long back then.
âAap par pura bharosa hai lekin wakht par nhi, kuch bhi ho skta hai. Aap pakka wapis aaoge na?â you asked, looking up at him with dewy eyes.
âKuch bhi hojaye lekin tum mere sath meri bahon mei rahogi jald hi, mai iss wakht ko bhi hame alag nhi karne dunga. Meri baat yaad rkhna.â he reassured, cupping your face in his palm. He was holding his entire world in his arms right now. He wished so badly he could take those tears away, knowing you'll be anxious until you two reunite but he has to leave. His mission was about to reach its end, the final blow to take down those who have scavenged his country for years and he's going all at it this time.
âKal jo mai karne ja rha hu uske baad jyada der tak ham Pakistan mei nhi reh payenge.â
Hamza reluctantly let go of you to hand you the passport kept on his carâs bonnet. âYe London ki tickets hai, kal raat mere wapis aate hi ham rwana ho jayenge.â His words remained firm despite your worries as he handed over the tickets to you.
You looked into his eyes, letting him know you'll be waiting and he gathered you into a hug again. His arms around you have always made you feel safe, you wished you could have them forever.
Pulling away unwillingly, he turned to get into the jeep as you kissed the back of his hand with reverence.
You stood back watching him leave you, only for a while as he promised.
You were like a moth to his flames, knowing it would burn you one day but you still choose to stay until your last breath. You didn't even care about being burned or being saved because how could you think about yourself when the man you love is burning everyday in this hell he has been sent into.
Years ago when you lived with him in his kabutttarkhana, you remember telling him about your past and how you ended up living in Lyari despite being an Indian. Yes, your great grandparents were Indians. In the partition of 1947 they ended up on the other side of the Indian borders, unfortunately. Since then the upcoming two generations have been living here disguised as the locals to survive, just to survive. No malice against anyone around you, you were only taught to survive and if you get lucky enough one day you'll go back to your motherland.
After your father's demise, your mother told you about your ancestral identity. Since then it always bugged you that would you ever earn so much in life to ever find your way out of Lyari? The answer was always a no until you met Hamza. You both fell in love, how? That's something you'd save up for your grandkids to tell.
Originally you thought he was Balochi but when you told him your side of the story and expected him to be mad at you for not telling him that you're a Hindu before dating, he just chuckled and shook his head.
You were scared because this could be the calm before the storm but he just pulled you into his arms.
âUh, aap mujhse naraz nhi hai?â you still remembered that conversation very well.
âBilkul bhi nhi. Aapko apne asli ghar wapis jana hai na?â Your eyes widened at his words as you stuttered.
âHamza aapke bina mai kahi kyu jana chahungi? Kya aap mujhe khud se dur bhej denge?â You were scared that he's being sarcastically sweet but the truth was something entirely different and it was in your favour.
Soon he told you about his real identity and asked you to stay quiet about it, so you did. He didn't tell you everything just so you won't panic but with time you knew what he's up to yet you stayed away from digging in too deep.
At times you would get worried about him and wanted to ask him questions but then his words always held you back.
âAgar mere sath rehna hai to tum mujhse koi sawal nhi karogi. Mujh par sirf tumhara haq rahega hmesa ke liye.â
You remember that day when he said these words. He came back home late, he looked like a mess. That morning you agreed to him and here you are.
He has never disappointed you with his promises and you hoped it would stay like that because one promise breaking can cause the lifetime separation between you two.
A day has passed and that dreadful feeling in your guts still remains. You couldn't sleep since the night he left, you barely wanted to do anything because he's basically your source of energy. Every waking hour you have devoted to him and now you're not even sure when he's gonna be back? And that's dreading you.
While sitting in your shared bedroom your mind wandered to that night when you heard inspector Omar talking about his suspicions on Hamza to Sp Aslam. You did tell your husband about it but you felt like someone else needs to know this too, someone who's close to him and will help him just in case.
RizwanâŠ.no, can't be him because he's already with Hamza.
âSoch aesa kon hai jo Hamza ko back-up de sake. Anyone just anyoneâŠâ and then it striked you. Jameel Jamali.
Jameel uncle has been a close associate with your husband. Maybe, just maybe if you tell him without giving him the entire truth of Hamza being an Indian spy then he could provide him with some back-up.
Without thinking much you called Jamali. A few rings later he picked it up.
âJameel uncle!â Your tone already gave out your worriness.
âArey mera baccha, tu thik hai? Itni pareshan kyu lag rhi hai?â he questioned in a less worried voice.
âUncle wo HamzaâŠ.aapko pta hai na wo kaha gaye hai.â
âHaa magarâŠâ he hesitated to tell you about Hamzaâs whereabouts.
âInspector Omar unke piche lage hai uncle. Wo unhe giraftaar karne ki baat kar rhe the uss din party mei. Please aap kuch kariye uncle.â You pleaded in a low desperate tone.
âLekin Omar use giraftaar kyu karega?â He questioned.
âMujhe nhi pta uncle maine puri baat to nhi suni lekin wo kuch na kuch karne wala hai. Aap Hamza ko please bcha lijiye. I beg you.â You sobbed holding onto the phone in your hand.
On the other end of the call Jameel can only sigh to your pleading. âMai Puri koshish karunga. Tu chinta maat kar beta. Bacche ho tum dono mere. Thik hai?â he tried reassuring you before the call was cut.
Jamali was quick to draw out his secret cell phone from his drawer as he called the IBI officer in Delhi.
Sanyal was quick to pick up the call from his asset.
âSanyal sahab, ISI Hamza ko uthane wali haiâŠplease act fast.â there was an urgency in his delivery.
âMujhe home minister sahab se baat karni padegi. Keep me informed.â now Sanyal also knows what's up.
You placed the phone beside you as silent tears slipped down your cheeks. Somehow you managed to alert Jameel about the consequences that might follow but was it right to tell him? It won't make matters worse for Hamza, right?
Here Hamza struggled against Iqbal after showing the gates of hell to the two of his men. He was roughed up and dusted but he kept fighting and chasing that formidable man.
He chased Iqbal down and every step he took brought him closer to end this threat wrapped in human skin.
Hamza's face was painted in blood, every breath he takes comes out as a roar. A roar ready to tear the man in a million pieces standing in front of him. After losing his legs Iqbal was set up in a freight train carrying fuel. Hamza pulled him up by wrapping a chain around Iqbal.
âBahut khun baha liya tune. Par ab bss.â He was feral now. If you would see him right now, you won't believe your eyes but you'll definitely be proud of him.
âYe naya Hindustan hai, ye ghar mei ghusega bhi aur marega bhi.â He roared at the guy as he shook him by his collar. Iqbal groaned in pain but as they say ârassi jal gayi lekin bal nhi gayaâ, he continued to spat venom against your homeland but Hamza was deaf to his screams now. He got down from a ladder fixed on the train and pulled open the tap, from which the oil started flowing outside on the ground.
Hamza brings out the lighter, setting it a bit far away and letting the fuel flow towards it, as if letting the end of the nemesis of his nation chase itself.
As he walked away, the screams of the man continued from behind him. Iqbal cursed at his fullest but it did not matter because his curses were about to end with him as the fuel reached the lighter and a huge blast happened, causing the chain reaction of blowing up of the freight train.
Hamza on the other hand sat down, tired and bruised and the first thing he did was to take out his cell phone.
Your phone rang and when you reached to pick it up your eyes widened to see the callerâs name, 'Jaan'. It was him, with a trembling hand you picked it up.
The silence stayed between you two, just low breathing from both the sides. You pressed your lips together letting out a choked sob. Hamza let out a shaky breath before saying your name and that broke you down completely. You cried desperately, all the anxiety piled up in you came out at once. He did call you finally.
âEk aakhri baar tumhare labo se apna naam sunna chahta hu.â
You gathered your voice at his request.
âHamzaâŠâ you let out clearly, fighting back tears.
âMera asli naam janna chahogi?â He asked and after a few seconds passed, he whispered âJaskirat.â
âJaskirat.â You repeated back, proudly. Oh you were so proud of him, even though your heart was breaking but you couldn't bring yourself to say anything.
Taking in a few breaths, soaking your heart in your lover's name. You let it consume you completely. That's all you ever wanted.
Hamza heard you breaking down again and so did he but he can't let you hear it, he needs to let you go. He closed his eyes before he cut the call.
You gasped slightly calling out his name, looking at the empty screen of your phone.
âHamzaâŠHamzaâŠpleaseâŠâ your legs gave up as you say on the nearest couch.
You felt like your heart had been ripped out of you, hell even that would hurt less. Clutching the phone near to where he resides, you heart, you cried and cried. He left you no choice. Tears streamed endlessly down your face while desperate sobs tore from your chest hard enough to leave you breathless.
Here Hamza sat back knowing what's about to happen now. He let himself reminisce about you for the time being. His promise, did he break it? Did he ruin the home you dreamed of with him? Going back home? With you?
He wished he could have taken another way out of this in which he could get you safely back home with him.
His mission is completed, he should be satisfied but he wasn't. The only thing he regretted was the hollow promises he made to you, he did mean it but destiny took him somewhere else. He wished he could have ended it some other way, any way in which you would be with him. He swallowed hard, the weight of his own words haunting him. Regret flickered across his face the moment he realized what heâd done.
He broke the one thing he promised to himself in this mission. Hamza heard the siren approaching him, inspector Omar is here to take him, to torture him soon or later and he accepted his faith.
âMaaf karna jaan, ghar wapis nhi leja paya aapko.â He thought to himself as your smiling face and your melodious laughter was the only thing playing in his mind. Before he could open his eyes Omar was already standing with his team with a gun pointed at him. Hamza regained his composure and smirked, coming to terms with it.
You didn't realize how long you had been sobbing before you fell asleep. Rubbing your sore eyes groggily, you winced as your head was hurting like never before. You checked your phone hoping for another call or message or anything for him but there was none.
Realisation dawns on you. You have lost him. Have you lost him? Did he get caught? Or maybe he got to escape? What if he- No.
You gulped as you shook your head waving these dreadful thoughts off. âUnhe kuch nhi hua hai. He's fine. He promised he'll be backâŠbutâŠhow?â
One promise gone wrong can take it all away and now you feel like it did.
You mind wandered to the tickets he gave you of London. Didn't he say he'll come to London with you? But he also said something way before, taking you with him back to India.
Well you guessed all of it is gone now. Washed off with his touch and presence. All you got was his love left behind and you were glad, at least you had something.
Spending the rest of your life without Hamza, even the thought of it feels suffocating but you'd have to. For him.
You slumped back on the couch, confused about what to do with yourself anymore. âJaan kuch to kaho, madad karo meri. Aapki aadat padh chuki hai mujhe. Ab aapke bina mai jeena bhul chuki hu aur aapâŠ.aap mujhe chor kar chale gaye.â
You cried while starving for a touch you could no longer reach. You wept quietly, wrapping your trembling arms around yourself. Yearning clinged to you like a wound that refused to heal.
âAapka intezar hamesa karungi. Ghar wapis bhi to jana hai na, aapke sath.â
To be continued...
A/n: alright as I said...just lots and lots of yearning... I just word vomited my true feelings lolol... anyways trust me y'all (â äșșâ  â âąÍâ áŽâ âąÍâ )
A/n : hi guys??? So excited to post this. It's my first time writing on Tumblr so excuse any rough edges. If there's any constructive criticism, feel free to inform me đ„čđ
! This is just a work of fiction, take it with a grain of salt. It has nothing to do with real life events. It's written with just the characters of the movie kept in mind. I do not claim it being relevant to the plot in any circumstances !
âChal na yaar! Chalte hai na,â y/n whined, pulling the sleeve of Jasleenâs kurta insistently.
âArey nahi hoga yaar. Bhai jaane hi nahi dega,â Jasleen shook her head frantically.
Her words elicited a very sharp scoff from y/n.
Y/n hated her best friendâs older brother Jaskiratâs guts more than she could explain in words. He was awful. Just horrible. He stole every girl's night opportunity, every single hangout.
Strict curfew, â6 baje se pehle ghar pohoch jana.â
6 baje was said out of formality. In reality, however, 5:15 was already pushing it.
Guess what, college and coaching end at 4. To come home by foot? 25 minutes, minimum.
According to Jaskirat Singh Rangi, a âgirlâs nightâ meant bhelpuri, unnecessary walking, and ghar waapsi.
So in short, y/n never got to take her bestest friend out for a girls night.
âJas, jaane do na usey. Mere saath hi toh rahegi! Movie dekhke ajayenge na dono!â y/n pleaded, swinging her legs as she sat on top of a tall stool.
âJaao na, mujhe koi aitraaz nahi.â
âSach!?â She beamed, her legs stopping mid-swing as she leaned forward.
âBas,â he added, â6 baje se pehle wapas ajana.â
Of course.
Y/n scoffed, leaning back in her chair, legs swinging with more force as it was the only thing she could take her anger out on.
âKonsa kisi aur ke saath bhaag rahi hai, mere saath hi toh rahegi,â y/n grumbled, loud enough for him to hear.
âTumhare saath jaane diya toh ek ko uthayenge aur dusri free mil jayegi.â
âKya matlab?â
Jaskirat stood up, walked in front of her, and crossed his arms.
âChoti si toh ho tum. Ek mukka maarna toh aata hoga nahiââ
âMaarke dikhau?â
âBas zabaan chalani aati hai.â
Jasleen slammed her book shut, dragging both their attention to her. âTum dono jhagadna band karoge?â
âJhagad kaha rahe hai,â the two said in unison. Y/n shot him a look.
Thief.
âDekh y/n, main bas bol raha hu, dhyaan se reh. Duniya ki niyat buri hai.â
âDuniya ki niyat buri hai.â
Y/n had heard that line more times than she could count. And she always wondered, jab duniya dekhi hi nahi, toh niyat ka pata kaise chalega.
âBartan kal dho denge maa. Baarish de rahi hai,â y/n murmured, stacking the dishes in the sink.
It was not a full fledged rain yet, more like a light drizzle, but it was late enough for her mother to agree. The lights were switched off. Everyone retreated to their rooms.
Y/n took a cold shower the moment she entered hers. She loved the way the chill clung to her skin, reminding her of rain.
Scrunching her damp hair with a towel, she came to her roofed balcony. She took a slow, deep inhale, eyes roaming from sky to road, and waitâ
What?
The breath left her in a sharp exhale when she saw a very familiar figure
Jaskirat.
He was sitting by the side of the road, back against the wall, eyes shut.
What was he doing here?
The soft drizzle was slowly thickening, the droplets growing heavier every second, suggesting it was turning into a steady rain.
Before y/n knew it, her feet had already pulled her towards the door, walking down the stairs with featherlike steps, careful not to make a sound.
She clicked the door open with careful secrecy. A little too quiet, a little too practiced.
She ran to him, crouching down, ignoring the way rain soaked into her pajamas.
âJas. Tum yaha kya kar rahe ho. Itni baarish mein. Itni raat ko. Ghar kyu nahi ho. Yahaan kyun baithe ho.â
âMain. Main ghar nahi jaa sakta.â
The moment he spoke, alcohol clung to his breath. Strong. Heavy. His words dragged, voice lower than she had ever heard it.
Y/nâs eyes widened.
She opened her mouth and shut it again. She looped her arms around him to pull him up. The rain was growing heavier every second.
âSambhalo khudko,â she muttered.
He steadied himself as much as he could. He couldnât tell what she was planning, but he was too drunk to question anything.
She dragged him to the door of her house before clamping a hand over his mouth softly. âChup raho, jab tak main na kahu.â
She nearly lost her balance hauling his weight up the stairs, teeth clenched as he stumbled against her shoulder.
Both of their clothes were decently damp by now. She looked at the balcony. The soft drizzle had turned into a steady rain by now, which made y/n sigh with relief that she had brought him inside quicker.
Her gaze darted between him and the balcony before settling on him. âTum peekar kya kar rahe the waha nashediyon ki tarah?â she asked sharply.
Jaskirat looked at her, eyes droopy. His lips curved lazily.
âMain mazak nahi kar rahi Jas! Kar kya rahe the?â she furrowed her brows.
He blinked.
âTehel raha tha.â
Y/n folded her arms and looked at him, deadpan. She shook her hand once she understood she wouldn't get a proper answer.
She sat on the other corner of the bed, tidying the folds of the bedsheet before glancing at him again.
âSo jao. Varna tabiyat kharab ho jayegi. Upar se, subah subah tumhe chupake bahar karna hoga,â she said wearily before standing up to take out some pillows from the cabinet beneath her almirah.
âTum mujhe andar kyu laayi?â he asked, confused as to why sheâd sneak him in.
She replied without looking back, âToh tumhe waha pe talli hoke raste par sone dena tha?â
Silence.
Y/n assumed he had passed out.
Right now, the fact that she couldnât find the exact cabinet with the pillows and blankets was what annoyed her.
âY/n?â
âHm?â
âMaine tumhe bola tha na?â
âKya?â
âKi duniya ki niyat buri hai?â
She snorted under her breath. âItni baar mera naam nahi bola hoga jitni baar ye bola hai.â
âToh tumne mujhe andar kyu kiya?â
âPhir wahi sawal?â she sighed, pulling out the pillows, just as she turned to see him stand up lazily, steadying himself by gripping the edge of the nightstand.
She came near him in long strides. âUth kyu gayeââ
âMera matlab woh nahi tha,â he said, pushing her by the shoulders gently to make her sit down on the bed.
He looked down at her.
âDuniya ki niyat toh buri hai hiâŠâ
A beat.
âMeri bhi niyat buri huyi toh?â
His greyish droopy eyes looked deeply into hers, expecting a reaction.
A minute passed.
And she chuckled at his words, her smile lingering even after the sound stopped.
âHas kyu rahi hai?â he asked, eyebrows furrowed as if offended by her reaction.
âTumhari niyat⊠buri?â she asked.
Jaskirat bent to her level, hands cradled her head and tilted it up to look directly into her eyes.
âAgar main abhi kuch bura kar du toh?â he grumbled.
âKardo,â she said simply.
His eyebrows twitched. He dug his fingers into her hair, bringing his face closer and closer to hers.
He tilted his head slightly. He stopped when he could feel their breaths mingling.
If he moved just a centimetre more, heâd do something he would regret.
Or maybe cherish it.
Y/nâs eyes followed him the entire time. She didnât move once.
His hands twitched around her. They tilted her face up, his touch weaker now.
He drew his head back slowly. His eyes roamed over her features, starting from the tiny mole tucked beneath the corner of her lower lip, to her cupidâs bow, then her nose, before finally settling on her eyes.
And Jaskirat took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He shook his head once, hesitant at first, then decisive. His arms fell to his sides.
And his body gave out, his head falling to her shoulder and his body leaning against her, still shaking his head slightly.
Her arms wrapped around his neck to soothe the nape of his neck, lips curving upwards as she leaned back, palm flat against the bed to steady herself.
âNahi kar paaye?â she murmured, teasing.
Jaskirat was silent. He just snuggled deeper into her neck and grumbled something incoherent.
Y/n could feel the growing warmth of his face.
He wouldn't do it.
She knew he wouldn't.
Not under substance at least. It felt wrong.
Wrong, because he looked at her like she was made of glass, like she was something sacred.
Wrong, because heâd wanted this for far too long to take it under the influence of cheap liquor.
Y/n sat there, fingers running through his hair until his breathing turned steady. She gently moved him to lay him flat on the bed and pulled his shoes off, his head resting on a pillow. She spread a fuzzy blanket over him.
Careful not to wake him.
After she was done, she stood straight, hands on her hips, eyes roaming over his face lit by the light of the night sky from the balcony. Y/n pulled a chair to the side of her bed and sat there, elbow propped on the nightstand, head resting on her hand.
He looked peaceful. His chest rose and fell steadily.
Y/n couldnât help the smile forming on her face just watching him. The fear of being caught with a man sleeping in her bed lingered at the back of her mind.
She wondered if she would even have the heart to wake him if someone knocked at the door right now.
She brushed back strands of hair from his forehead, and her heart swelled when he nuzzled into her touch involuntarily.
Maybe tonight, she should just look at him. Maybe count his eyelashes before the time was up and she had to make him leave. The thought made her chest ache, something sheâd never felt before.
This wasnât good. Y/n knew that much.
The thought of what Jasleen would say if she peeked into y/nâs mind and saw her like this just watching him, wanting to take care of Jaskirat, made her lose her mind.
Y/n didnât realise when her own eyes betrayed her, and she gave in to the cheap temptation of sleep.
Y/n blinked her eyes open softly. Her neck ached from sleeping on the nightstand, but that wasnât what woke her up. It was a faint tug at her fingers. She opened her eyes to see Jaskirat tracing lines over her fingers.
He was awake, his eyes fixed on her hand like it was something fascinating. Something sacred.
She curled her finger instinctively, breaking his trance, and he quickly let her hand go, clearing his throat.
The sky was a softened blue now. She caught a glimpse of it from the balcony. Her eyes darted to the clock.
4:18 a.m.
She let out a sigh of relief.
âJas,â she called softly. Softer than sheâd ever called him.
âHm?â he responded, forcing himself to sit up despite the sharp headache.
âTumhe nikalna chahiye. Baad mein papa uth gaye toh phirâŠâ
He nodded and shifted, letting his feet touch the floor without making a sound. He pulled his shoes from behind the bed and put them on, tying the laces.
âGhar kaise jaoge?â
âPinda ke chala jaunga. Wahan se naha dhoke ghar jaunga toh shak nahi hoga ghar pe,â he answered without looking up.
She nodded thoughtfully.
âTum⊠sharab peete ho?â she asked.
âNahi,â he replied instantly, fingers pausing, tension visible in his hands.
âPinda ke doston ke saath tha. Uske baap ne use kisi kaam pe bhej diya aur main waha unn bigdail bando ke saath phas gaya,â his jaw tightened. âUnhone aadhi bottle gale ke neeche utaardi thi mere aur Gurbaaz ke ghar panga na ho jaye isliye maine kuch kiya bhi nahi. Main bas nikal aaya waha se.â
His voice was low, gaze on the floor, as if ashamed.
Y/n let out a sharp exhale, somewhere between relief and anger. She stood up and nudged his shoulder.
âChalo.â
The two walked very deliberately. Every door clicked slow and quiet, careful not to wake anyone in the house. She kept a tight hold on his shirt, leading the way to the main door.
Once outside, beneath the soft breezy sky of early dawn, surrounded by the aftermath of rain on trees and muddy puddles on her lawn, they both let out the breath theyâd been holding.
Jaskirat stood in front of her, looking down like he was expecting her to say something.
âSamhalke jaana aur jaake sardard ki dawai le lena,â she said, fixing the folds of his collar.
He nodded.
âPinda ko bol dena ki aise logon ke saath na rahe aur agar rahe toh tumhe saath na le jaye. Aaj ke baad sharab mat peena,â her hands softened the wrinkles on his shirt.
âMaine kuch galat toh nahi kiya na kal?â he asked quietly.
Y/n chuckled. âKiya hota toh zinda kaha chhodti tumhe,â she said, hoping her cheeks wouldnât betray her.
Jaskiratâs lips curved slightly.
âChalo, jaao ab. Dhyaan se jaana,â she said with a warm smile.
Jaskirat nodded and started walking, steps slow and deliberate, as if he wanted to stay a minute longer.
âAurâŠâ she spoke.
He stopped.
âAgli baar⊠hosh mein aana.â
By the time he turned, she had already gone inside.
He stood there for a moment, then walked away, face warm.
Anyone who saw Jaskirat Singh Rangi that day would've assumed he was fighting demons with how he was kicking the air.
A/N: Hey, hope youâre all doing well. It took me a long time to finish this chapter because I kept doubting if it was good enough to share. Honestly, Iâm still not sure, but Iâd lose my mind if I kept writing and deleting it over and over. So here it isâsorry if itâs not great.
Warning: guns and bloodshed.
The night over Lyari was heavy with rain.
It began as a low rumble in the sky, distant thunder rolling over the city like a warning, but by the time Hamza stepped out of the palace, the storm had broken fully. Rain crashed against the marble balconies, streamed down the palace windows, and turned the streets below into dark rivers of reflected neon and blood-red taillights.
Inside the room, you stood frozen, the words of Hamzaâs guard still ringing in your ears.
**âUzair par hamla hua hai.â**
Uzair had been attacked.
For a moment, the world around you seemed to tilt. Your hand tightened around the edge of the table as your breath caught in your throat. You could still see Hamzaâs face from seconds earlierâcold, unreadable, slipping into that dangerous calm he wore before violence.
He had left without another word, his jacket slung over one shoulder, gun in hand, disappearing into the storm like he belonged to it.
And perhaps he did.
Lyari had shaped him into something darker than the boy you once loved.
But it had not erased the fear that still gripped your heart whenever Uzairâs name was spoken in danger.
Lyari did not calm down after the gunfire. It only learned how to breathe through it.
Rain kept falling like it had forgotten its own purpose, washing over broken roads and half-lit rooftops where men had already started rebuilding the silence that violence had torn apart. Somewhere deep inside the city, SP Aslamâs name stopped meaning authority and started meaning absence. The kind of absence that still echoed.
Rehman Balochâs shadow returned again that night, as it always did when his death was spoken aloud in living rooms that still feared his name. Uzair carried that shadow without realising it, the way a man carries something he never agreed to inherit. And Hamza had carried it differently â not as grief, but as a slow-burning debt that never stopped growing.
SP Aslam had made a mistake, believing it had faded.
He had been wrong.
The attack near the docks was not loud at first. It was patient, like everything planned too carefully. Uzair was already injured when he realised the trap had closed around him. The fog near the water was thick, swallowing distance, swallowing certainty. Footsteps appeared where there should have been none.
And then Aslam stepped forward, like he had been waiting for this exact moment to close something unfinished.
âYou should have died with your brother,â he said quietly.
Uzairâs jaw tightened at the name. Rehman. It never came gently. It always came like a wound reopening.
Before Uzair could move, the night cracked open.
Not from Aslam.
From behind him.
Gunfire tore through the fog, scattering men into panic. The world shifted in seconds, collapsing into controlled chaos. And then Hamza arrived, walking straight into it as the storm had already agreed to his presence.
There was no hesitation in him. No warning. Only certainty.
Rain ran down his face as he looked at Aslam, and for a moment, something ancient passed between them â something that had nothing to do with the present and everything to do with what had been buried years ago with Rehman Baloch.
Hamza spoke softly, almost gently.
âYou should have stayed dead when you had the chance.â
Aslam laughed once, breathless and sharp. âYou think killing me changes anything? Rehman is stillââ
The sentence never finished.
The sound that followed was not dramatic. It was final.
And after that, there was only rain again.
Hamza stood still for a second longer than necessary, as if waiting for the world to confirm what he had done. Only then did his body shift slightly, his hand pressing against his side where pain had already begun to spread. It was small, controlled, hidden â but not gone.
He refused to fall. That was always his way.
But something in him had already been marked.
When Uzair was brought in, the mansion felt colder than usual, as if it had absorbed the night and decided not to release it. The corridors were dim, stretched too long, filled with that suffocating silence that follows violence when it has not yet decided who it belongs to.
You felt it before you saw anything.
A shift.
A tightening in the air.
And then Uzair was there.
Seated.
Restrained.
Alive.
The sight didnât just hurt â it pulled something apart inside your chest that you didnât realise was still whole. Your steps broke before your voice did.
âUzairâŠâ
His head lifted slowly, like even that movement cost him. But his eyes softened the moment they found you, cutting through everything else.
âYouâre okay,â he said quietly, as if that was the only truth he needed.
Your breath shook. âThis isnât okay. None of this is.â
Behind you, the door opened again.
Hamza.
You didnât need to turn fully to feel him enter. His presence changed the room before his footsteps stopped. When you finally faced him, he was still carrying the remains of the night â rain on his skin, exhaustion in his eyes, blood that he had already decided not to acknowledge.
His gaze went to Uzair first. Then stayed there a moment longer than necessary.
âI killed SP Aslam,â he said.
Not as a victory.
As weight.
Then, quieter, âFor Rehman Baloch.â
The name landed heavily again. Rehman never truly left conversations like this â he only changed what he meant each time he spoke.
You looked at Hamza, and something inside you cracked with understanding you didnât want.
âSo this was revenge?â Your voice trembled. âOr something worse?â
Hamzaâs eyes lifted to you slowly.
âI donât do revenge,â he said. âI do endings.â
A pause.
Then softer, almost like it cost him something to admit it,
âI brought him back so you could see him⊠one last time.â
The words didnât feel real at first.
They sank in slowly, like something drowning without sound.
Uzair didnât react immediately. He just watched, breathing unevenly, as if he already knew no argument could change what had been decided.
âYouâre sending me away,â he said at last.
Hamza didnât deny it.
âAlive,â he replied again.
That word carried something heavier than mercy. It carried control. It carried a decision. It carried the kind of love that didnât know how to let go without tightening its grip first.
Your hands moved before your thoughts did, as if instinct still believed it could interrupt fate. You reached for Uzair without thinking, fingers brushing his for a second too brief to hold onto.
It wasnât comfort.
It was farewell, pretending not to be one.
âI didnât want it to end like this,â you whispered.
Uzairâs expression softened, but there was something distant in it now â something like acceptance wearing the shape of calm.
âIn Lyari,â he said quietly, ânothing ends at the right time.â
The guards moved after that.
Not violently.
Just inevitably.
And Uzair was taken.
The space he left behind was immediate and unbearable, like the room had lost its balance and didnât know how to stand properly anymore.
You didnât move for a long moment.
Neither did Hamza.
But when you finally turned toward him, something inside you was no longer trembling â it was hardening.
âThis isnât mercy,â you said quietly. âItâs possession dressed like protection.â
A flicker crossed his face.
Not anger.
Something more dangerous.
Recognition.
Because part of him already knew that.
âI donât know what it is anymore,â he said.
And for the first time that night, his voice wasnât controlled.
It was tired.
Human.
Yalina had been standing near the doorway without sound, as she always did when the past and present collided too closely. She watched Hamza for a long moment â not like a wife watching a man she belonged to, but like someone who had once understood exactly how deep his darkness could go.
Her voice was soft when she finally spoke.
âYou keep calling it survival,â she said. âBut itâs starting to look like something else.â
Hamza didnât answer.
He didnât have to.
Because he already felt it.
When she left, the room felt even emptier than before.
And it was only you and him now.
The silence between you was no longer soft. It was sharp.
You stepped closer, eyes burning with something you were no longer trying to hide.
âYouâre destroying yourself,â you whispered. âAnd taking everyone with you.â
Hamza looked at you then.
Fully.
Finally.
And whatever was left of control in him loosened for just a second.
âI donât know how to stop,â he said quietly.
A pause.
Then, almost barely audible,
âBut I know what it feels like to lose you⊠and I canât do it twice.â
That was the difference.
Not power.
Not violence.
Fear.
Outside, rain kept falling without mercy, as if the city itself refused to acknowledge endings.
And somewhere far beyond the mansion walls, Uzair was being taken further and further away â not as a death, but as something far more permanent.
Distance.
And inside, Hamza Ali Mazari stood in the ruins of his own choices, realising that some wars donât end when you win them.
Summary: After the passing of his father, Jax is crowned the King of Charming. Not only has he been given the crown, heâs also been given much more responsibilities and duties than before. Thankfully, after your parents accepted his marriage proposal to you and youâre there to rule Charming by his side, things donât seem as intense, and he doesnât feel as pressured. Youâre everything he could ever want and need in a Queen, and he knew he could handle anything, as long as youâre by his side. But some people donât accept you, and some would do anything to take your place as Jaxâs wife, and as the Queen of Charming.
Genre: fluff, smut, angst | Warnings: unprotected sex, swearing, age gap (Jax is late 30s, reader is mid 20s), size difference, inexperienced reader (at least at first), slight corruption kink, reader comes from a neglectful family, mentions of loss of virginity, sex before marriage (how scandalous), incorrect and inaccurate language/grammar/dialogue from the time period (never specified), mentions of death, death, loss, mentions of illness, heavy topics, more to come.
Hope for the Holidays Series Masterlist {coming December 2025}
Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!neighbor!Reader
Series warnings/tags: 18+; angst with a happy ending, single dad!Jax, canon-divergence, grief, depression, past abuse, mentions of suicide and forced abortion, hurt/comfort, holiday fluff
Summary: The holidays used to be your favorite time of year. Now the festive seasonâand your ex that just might need a restraining orderâonly tears open a deep wound that you've spent the last three years attempting to bury beneath your work as a wedding photographer. The bitter, single father you just moved in next door to only makes the holidays worse, especially when you're forced to interact with him because his oldest son keeps sneaking over to see your cat. But the more you start to learn about Jax, the more you start to realize that he might be just as broken as you are.
Chapter List ădates/titles are tentativeă
1: Not Again ăDecember 1stă
2: The Cycle Repeats ăDecember 3rdă
3:
4:
5:
6:
7:
8:
9:
10:
11:
12:
Content warning: Fluff, Violence, Torture talk, Past trauma talk.
âIâm not talking about it anymore.â She said as she looked out the window. âI already told the cops and doctors and no one believes me, They think Iâm crazy.â
âWell, we are different; you can talk to us, " you said, pointing at JJ and you.
âI was possessed.â Your eyes looked up at her.
âWhat do you mean?â JJ asked.Â
âIt doesnât matter.â The woman quickly shook her head and crossed her arms.
âIt matters to me.â You swiftly said, her eyes briefly looking at yours to see if you were being truthful.
âWhen I heard my husband scream, I was there on my head, but I couldnât control my body.â JJ caught your posture shifting, and your knee quickly bouncing, but she said nothing. âI saw what I was doing but couldnât stop, I just wanted to stop.â
âIâm sorry.â JJ said.
âYou donât need to apologize.â She smiled.
âSome of your neighbors told the police you and your husband didnât get along, that you fought often.â
âBut I never wanted to kill him.â The woman desperately said as she took your hands, taking you by surprise. âDo you believe me?â Her eyes pleading.
How could you not?Â
At first, when this case was brought up by JJ, you thought all of this was a coincidence, something outside of your territory, but when Hotch asked you to look into it while the team was working on it, you realized he was right and this was indeed your type of case.
Now youâre just confirming it.
The only problem was that you were about to take away the case from your friend JJ.
âI do.â You smiled and cleared your throat. âOn the day this happened, did you happen to smell anything?â
âAnything like what?â The woman and JJ sent you the same confused glance.
âWhat was that?â JJ asked, her voice cutting through the tense silence of the psychiatric waiting room.
âWhat was what?â you replied, faking confusion.
âThe smell thing,â she clarified. It was obvious she wasnât going to let it slide.
âOh, that.â You forced a nervous chuckle and shrugged. âYeah, I donât know.â
JJâs frown deepened, skepticism written all over her face. At this point, you were running out of believable excuses, so you decided to embrace denial.
âI donât know,â you repeated.
âYou donât know?â she pressed, eyes narrowing.
Just as you opened your mouth to scramble for a more believable explanation, salvation arrived. One of the doctors stepped out of their office, clipboard in hand, and called JJ over to discuss the woman you'd just interviewed as JJ had requested a minute ago.
You took the opportunity, pulling out your phone to update Hotch on the case. His response was brief, as always: âUnderstood.â
As you were actively trying to avoid JJâs gaze, keeping your focus anywhere but on her. You caught sight of a tall, brown-haired man lingering at the edge of the room you and JJ just left.
Your stomach dropped.
His green eyes locked onto yours.
For fuckâs sake.Â
Sam fucking Winchester.
This couldnât get worse. Could it?
You subtly tilted your head toward JJ, signaling him to move. He got the hint instantly, spinning on his heel and sprinting down the hallway without a glance.
After sending a confused and questioning team back to Quantico to work on a sudden and extremely important case led by Rossi.
You and Hotch stayed to wrap everything up, normally only you would stay, but for some reason, Hotch didnât want to leave your side, as if you hadnât dealt with these cases for years.
âFind anything?â He asked.
He drove you to the crime scene this morning, he had been really helpful so far, but refused to leave you alone.
âBeen over the entire house twice, no sulfur.â You sighed in frustration as you rubbed your temple with two of your fingers.
âNo sulfur, no demon.â He mentioned.
âDo you think she lied?âÂ
Just as he was about to speak, the sound of an engine interrupted your conversation. His always prominent frown deepened in confusion.
âOh.â You said as you recognized the sound.
âOh?âÂ
âThe boys are here.â
âThe boys?â His piercing eyes looked at you.
âThe Winchesters.â You said as you stepped back, trying to escape from his gaze.
âWhat are they doing here?â He placed a hand over his hip.
You slightly bit your bottom lip as you shrugged. âWe are about to find out together.â
The door suddenly swung open.
âAre you dressed?â Deanâs voice shouted from a distance.Â
You closed your eyes for a brief moment as your face turned red, Hotch sent you a questioning look.
âExcuse him, you know, I think all those creatures dragging his ass and banging his head against the floor in hunts are finally starting to affect him in some way.â You said as you heard the steps of both brothers entering the room where you and Hotch were.
âHowdy partners!â Dean said with a smile as Sam looked at both of you with a shy smile on his face.
âPartners?â Hotch lifted an eyebrow.
âWell, we are kind of ahead in this case, we were here first, maybe we can help.â Dean shrugged.
âHow did you know about this case?â Hotch asked.
âNewspapers, there was a supernatural thing all over this, we came to check and found out you were here as well.â Hotch nodded.
Hotch raised a finger, motioning for you to follow him. His hand closed gently around your arm as he guided you into a nearby room, far from the brothersâ earshot.
âThey canât stay,â he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
âWhat? Why not?â You frowned, already anticipating the answer.
âTheyâre wanted.â
âTheyâre basically presumed dead,â you countered, placing a hand on his shoulder. âPlease. Just this once.â
âNo.â
âPlease, please.â
âNo.â
âAaron, please.â
Youâd never called him that, it wasnât a big deal, was it? Youâd kissed him more than a few times. Surely you could call him by his first name.
But still, you froze. Not today. No risks. Youâre not taking any chances.
But his frown softened slightly at the sound of his name or maybe was the sound of your begging.
âI mean, Hotch.â
He studied you for a moment, weighing his options. âFine. They can stay this one time. But they will follow my orders.â He said with a reluctant sigh.
âDone. Theyâre already used to me being bossy.â
âAnd you will follow my orders too,â he added, catching you off guard.
âWhat? But this is my case. Weâre on my territory.â
âYou want them to stay? Iâm in charge.â
âThatâs not fair,â you argued. âBut, fine.â
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned closer, his face inches from yours. His breath ghosted over your skin.
âSay it,â he murmured, his tone low and commanding.
âS-Say what?â you stammered, your legs trembling under his intense gaze.
Fuck, he really affected you that much.
âThat Iâm in charge.â
Your voice was barely a whisper, your cheeks burning. âYouâre in charge, Sir.â
Sure, you shouldâve put more resistance on that, but everything inside you said otherwise.
He straightened, putting distance between you again, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.
âGood. Then weâll work together.â
You nodded, still trying to steady yourself.
âAnd,â he added, his voice softening, âItâs okay for you to call me Aaron.â
He turned and left the room, leaving you standing there, heart racing and mind spinning. Half the time, you didnât know where you stood with him or where this thing between you was headed.
Clearing your throat, you pushed those thoughts aside and followed him back to the others. The brothers looked up as you approached.
âSo?â Dean asked, his arms crossed, suspicion written all over his face.
Hotch glanced at you, his silent cue to explain.
âWe accept your help,â you said, âbut Hotch is giving the orders.â
Dean frowned, clearly not a fan, but before he could protest, Sam stepped in.
âFine. Weâll follow his lead.â
Dean shot his brother a look but decided to drop the subject. âWhat do we have, then?â
âNo sulfur,â Hotch replied.
Deanâs eyebrows shot up. âNo sulfur? No sulfur, no demon. No demon, no case.â
âWeâre aware, Dean,â you said. âBut she wasnât lying. Thereâs something weâre missing.â
Dean grumbled under his breath, but Sam nodded, his expression thoughtful. âThen weâd better find it.â
âThereâs been another death.â You announced as soon as Hotch opened his door.
âWhere?â He asked.
âThe same area, just a few houses away from the previous couple.â
âIn broad daylight?â
âYep.â
âSame pattern?â
âYeah, but this wife decided to shoot at his husband.âÂ
He gathered his stuff as quickly as he could and walked beside you.
âThe boys have something.â
âThe boys?â Hotch frowned, his tone sharp. âHow did they get there so quickly?â
âUh, I guess theyâre staying at a closer motel,â you offered weakly.
âWeâre staying at the closest motel.â
âWell, theyâre quick. I donât know,â you muttered, avoiding his gaze.
Hotch stepped in front of you, blocking your path to the SUV. âLook at me.â
You closed your eyes, exhaling a heavy sigh before reluctantly meeting his piercing stare.
âWe made a deal,â he reminded you.
âTheyâre pretending to buy a house in the same neighborhood,â you admitted. âThey spent the night there.â
Damn, youâre so used to lying to him to get your job done, why is it so difficult now?
Hotch sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly, before stepping aside and opening the car door for you. He climbed into the driverâs seat, his hands gripping the wheel as he started the engine.
âDo they do that often?â he asked, his tone suspicious but calm.
âNo, no,â you replied a little too quickly. âItâs their first time.â
You turned your head toward the window, hoping he wouldnât notice the way your face betrayed the truth. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his jaw tighten, but he said nothing as the car pulled onto the road.
âWhat do you have?â Hotch asked, his tone commanding. You were used to it, The Winchesters? Not that much.
âThe neighbors heard some noises, and they told usââ Dean started, but Hotch cut him off.
âThe neighbors?â Hotch asked, tilting his head.
You sighed, already knowing where this was going. âHe knows.â
âWow. You fall under his pressure real quick. What was it, like, two seconds under his stare?â
âI tried,â you said defensively.
âI donât think you did.â
âNobody cares what you think, Dean.â You crossed your arms. âJust tell us what you two know.âÂ
âWe heard the shot coming from the house next to us, so we went to check it out.â
Hotch brought his index finger and thumb to his nose bridge. âYou went inside?.âÂ
âUh... maybe?â Dean replied, glancing at you for support, but you just motioned with your hand for him to stop talking.
Sam sighed and nudged Dean aside, stepping in to continue the conversation.
âWe did, and we kinda fought the wife to surrender the gun, but she was very strong, and, get this, she had ectoplasm leaking out of her ear.â
âWhat?â You jumped out of your seat. âHow?
Sam looked at a very confused looking Hotch. âEctoplasm is a black substance that only comes from a pissed-off spirit.â
âSo, weâre looking for a ghost?â He asked even more confused than before.
âItâs got to be ghost possession, itâs pretty rare, but it happens,â Dean stated.
âI thought only demons possessed people.â
âIf the ghost gets angry enough, they could take control of a personâs body.â You explained.
âWhich explains why our EMF detectors went crazy.â
âMine hasnât beeped at all. Not even at the first house.â You frownedÂ
âYeah, thatâs another thing, when the ghost left the body of the woman, the detectors went silent.â
âSo the ghost is constantly moving?â Sam nodded, giving you a knowing look, he knew you despised hunting ghosts. âBut we still donât know how.âÂ
âFine, Sam and Dean will go to talk to the family, you and I will see what the neighbors know.â You nodded at Hotchâs command.
After a whole day doing interviews and doing research, the Winchesters found out about a woman called Betty Mayers, she was a housewife who used to live with her husband and children in a house next door to the first victim a few years ago.Â
Betty was completely devoted to her family, until she found out about her husband cheating with his secretary.
Betty couldnât bear the betrayal, so she opened two of the bottles of wine her husband collected, and drank them all. Encouraged by the amount of alcohol she had consumed, she went to confront the cheating bastard and her mistress, but sadly on the way to her destination, she suffered a car accident and died.
But Betty didnât leave with the reaper that day, no. She stayed, hoping she could get to see her husband drowning in guilt after her death. But she didnât. Instead she burned with rage when, after a year of her passing, the man who swore to love her, married his young secretary.
After that she swore to end the life of every single cheater she knew of.
âSo whatâs the plan?â Dean asked.
âLetâs leave this town and let her finish the job.â You smiled.
The three men in the room looked at you like you were crazy.
âNo, she may be after cheaters right now, but itâs only a matter of time until rage blinds her and starts killing everyone in front of her.â Sam reminded you.
âFine, whatever, it was just a suggestion.â You said holding your hands up.Â
âWell, it's probably just a matter of time till she kills again.â Aaron reasoned.
âAre there many cheaters in this neighborhood?â You asked.
âSeems like.â
âDo we know how the ghost is moving?â Aaron asked the brothers.
âNot really, her father kept the house and just moved two months ago,â Sam explained.Â
âJust before the first attack.âÂ
âSo he mustâve brought something with him.â
âAnd she was cremated,â Dean added.
âSo, maybe an object.â
After another full day of talking with the neighbors and trying to learn more about the case, you and Hotch found out about Bettyâs Mayer father. He was a plumber and lately he had been working around the neighborhood, specifically the houses of the two last victims.
You also learned from Mrs. Black, a neighbor who lives around the corner, that Bettyâs father always keeps her daughter close to, with a golden locket he uses as a keychain.
âSo, we need to catch her attention,â Dean said, arms crossed.
âYeah, but how?â you asked.
Deanâs face split into a wide, teasing grin. You frowned. That look never meant anything good.
âWe fake an affair,â he announced dramatically. Then, without hesitation, he walked over to the kitchen sink of the house you had all conveniently invited yourselves into and burst the pipe. âWhile her father fixes our sink.â
You barely had time to process Deanâs plan before you felt a familiar presence behind you. Hotch leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered. âThe FBI is not paying for that.â
He didnât move away. If anything, he stayed closer. Close enough that you could feel his chest rise and fall against your back every time he breathed.
âWeâll pay,â Sam reassured.
Hotch turned his head slightly. âHow?â
You stepped away quickly, needing space before your thoughts spiraled. âDonât ask if you donât want to know,â you warned, trying to steady yourself. His proximity was doing things to you, and you needed to focus. âYou heard the boys.â you continued, forcing yourself to sound normal. âThis means going undercover.â
Hotch gave you a half skeptical, half amused look. âIs this why youâre always insisting we go undercover in cases?â His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile playing at the corners.
You shrugged. âMaybe⊠or maybe Iâm just discovering my passion for acting.â
Dean let out a short laugh. âSounds to me like youâre into role-playing.â
Sam sighed, already exasperated. âDeanâŠâ
You shot Dean a glare. âDo you ever shut up?â
âYou know he doesnât.â Sam muttered.
Dean just grinned, clearly pleased with himself and his dumb joke.
The plan was stupid, dangerously stupid, but it was all you had before the ghost started killing again.
It consisted of Betty's father coming to the house to fix the sink while you and Hotch faked an affair, and âYour husband Deanâ caught you in the act.
You were sure Hotch would say no, but apparently you were pretty wrong, cause he didnât just agree, he insisted and talked you into agreeing as well.
âYou think this is stupid.â
âOf course I do, Aaron.â You said as you sat on the bed. âWe are guiding a pissed and violent ghost towards us like itâs no big deal.â
Hotch stood looking out the window, waiting for the man to arrive.
âAnd I donât think we are fooling anyone, not even the ghost.â
âWhy is that?â He said, still focused on the window.
âNo offense, but you look way too federal with the tie and everything,â you teased.
Hotch finally looked at you, his eyes sharp and unreadable. Without hesitation, his fingers loosened his tie with ease, slipping it off and tossing it aside.
âFine. Itâs gone. Something else?â he challenged.
You smirked. âI'm not crazy about those pants either.â
His eyes narrowed slightly, clearly onto your game.Â
âIt was worth the try.â You shrugged with a smile on your face.
âWell, you donât exactly look like an unfaithful housewife,â he said, his voice steady but edged with something you couldnât quite place. âLose the shirt.â He said, no, commanded.
You froze for a second. âExcuse me?â
âYouâll wear mine,â he said simply, already starting to unbutton it.
Fuck.
You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the buttons of your own shirt. But in the end, you turned away, facing the wall as you unfastened each button, keeping your movements controlled. But you could feel his eyes on you, burning into your back.
It wasnât that you didnât trust him. It was about you. About the scars that adorned your abdomen. You didnât want him to see him like that, vulnerable, damaged.
If he sees you, he would ask questions you didnât want to answer and it would bring back memories you didnât want to relive.
You swallowed hard, shaking the thoughts away.
âHere.â
Hotchâs voice was quieter as he handed you his shirt. You grabbed it quickly, but in your rush to hide from him, you made it evident.
Hotch saw how you covered your abdomen, he would expect you to cover your chest first, but you didnât. You gave him full access to the view of the black bra supporting your breast instead.
And he thought they were looking beautiful, delicious, but his eyes flickered downward, catching the movement. And just like that, you knew.
He saw them.
You could tell by the way his expression changed. His gaze didnât linger long enough on your breasts. Instead, it dragged over your sides, catching the faint, faded scars adorning your skin.
He opened his mouth, about to say something, but the sound of a car pulling up outside shattered the moment.
Bettyâs father had arrived.
Without another word, you slipped on his shirt, buttoning it up quickly as Hotch straightened, his usual unreadable mask slipping back into place. But his silence said enough.
He wasnât going to forget what he saw. And you had no idea what that meant.
âShow time.â You murmured as you slipped down your pants, letting Hotchâs shirt cover your whole body.
The hunt went way better than you expected. Bettyâs ghost possessed her own father's body when she learned about your âaffairâ and fortunately she didnât have time to drag you around the house, but you distracted her enough for Winchesters to get the keychain to burn it while Hotch tried his best to protect you.
âAre you ready to go?â you asked, glancing up at Hotch while closing your suitcase.
âActually, weâre staying one more night,â he said.
You frowned slightly. âWhy?â
âI think we need to rest a little longer. Weâre going to need it, thereâs another case waiting for us as soon as we get back.â
Your eyebrows lifted. âWe? Are you actually planning to rest? Thatâs a new one.â
He gave you a look, unimpressed. âWe both need it.â
âIâm fine.â
âItâs pointless trying to lie to me.â
You smirked. âHotch, I do that for a living. Iâd say Iâm pretty damn good at it.â
He stepped closer, eyes locked on yours. âNot lately.â His voice was quiet but firm. âLately, you havenât been able to.â
So he was aware of the power he had over you. Awesome. Just awesome.
You could practically hear Deanâs voice in your head: âTwo seconds under his stare, and you start spilling all our secrets.â
You exhaled, shifting uncomfortably. âListen, I know what this is about, and Iâll say it again, Iâm fine.â
âThey didnât seem recent.â
Your stomach tightened. He was talking about the scars.
âThey arenât,â you said simply, hoping that would end the conversation.
No such luck.
âIâve never seen them before.â
âI keep them hidden.â
His gaze didnât waver. âWhy?â
You sighed, stopping mid-motion as you packed, then sat on the bed. âBecause,â you muttered, picking at the hem of your sleeve, âI donât like them, okay? Those scars remind me of things I havenât thought about in a long time.â
âI understand.â He nodded, but you shook your head slightly.Â
âNo, I donât think you do understand,â you said, a bitter laugh escaping before you could stop it. âThey made me insecure about my own body. Do you know how many boyfriends insisted I wear a shirt during sex? They avoided looking at them, let alone touching them.â
Hotch crouched slightly, making sure you were looking right at him. âLook at me.â
Your eyes met his, reluctantly at first.
âTheyâre beautiful,â he said, voice steady. âLike you.â
You searched his face, expecting pity. But there was none. Only sincerity. You saw in his eyes he meant it, but you just gave him a side smile.
âI meant it.â
âI know.â
Hotch felt a pang of something deep in his chest as he looked at you. He had never done this before, but something told him it was necessary.
Without a word, he stepped in front of you and pulled his polo shirt over his head.
You blinked, caught off guard. âWhat are youââ
Then you saw them. The scars. The ones left behind by Foyet.
Your breath hitched. You had been so caught up in your mind, in your pain, that you had forgotten. And now, seeing them like this, guilt settled heavy in your stomach.
You werenât there when it happened, but you remembered your father talking about how badly Hotch had been hurt.
Hotch took your hand gently, guiding you to stand. Then, without a word, he placed your palm flat against his chest. His hand trembled slightly over yours, the vulnerability evident.
Your other hand moved on its own, fingertips ghosting down the lines of his torso. His breath hitched, but he didnât stop you. His grip on your right hand remained steady, grounding.
âHe stabbed me,â he murmured, his voice quieter than usual. âTo match his scars.â
You looked up at him, but he didnât meet your gaze.
âYou donât have to tell me if you donât want to,â you said softly. âI understand, Aaron.â
His eyes flickered up at the sound of his name.
âBut I want to,â he admitted.
His focus dropped to where his hand still held yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.
âHe offered me a deal,â Hotch continued, voice measured. âHe had a previous arrangement, one that gave him satisfaction, holding power over the authorities by forcing them to stop investigating. But when I refused, I took that power away from him.â He exhaled sharply, like he could still feel the weight of the choice.
âThereâs no such thing as an honorable serial killer,â you said, voice firm. âYou couldnât have known.â
He didnât respond, just studied you for a long moment before slowly letting go of your hand.
âDo you trust me?â he asked.
You didnât hesitate. âI do.â
His hands moved to your shirt, carefully unbuttoning it. He was slow, deliberate, giving you the chance to stop him. But you didnât.
As the fabric slipped from your shoulders, your scars were revealed, two large ones, one on your right side and another slightly higher.
Hotchâs expression remained unreadable, but his gaze softened.
âDid you know this job was never meant for me?â you said suddenly.
His brow furrowed, the shift in conversation catching him off guard.
âYour older brother was supposed to take your fatherâs place,â he recalled.
You nodded. âIt was supposed to be that way. But one night, Dean and John came to our house. I thought they were just distracting themselves from Sam leaving for Stanford.â You let out a quiet breath. âBut in reality, they were following a lead on a demon.â
Hotch stayed quiet, his eyes telling you to continue.
âThat night, while they were out hunting, I went dancing with friends. It was nice⊠until I went to the bathroom.â You paused, staring at a point past him. âI just remember black smoke coming out of the vents.â
Hotch stiffened slightly, his hand brushing over your arm in silent support.
âThey wanted revenge,â you continued. âFor my father helping the Winchesters kill one of their âbrothers.ââ You let out a humorless laugh. âWho knew demons played family down in hell?â
His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
âI fought it,â you said, your voice quieter now. âI fought so damn hard, but losing control of my own body drained me. By the time my father found me, I was exhausted.â
Hotchâs fingers traced soothing circles against your skin.
âIt was all a trap, but I couldnât warn them,â you whispered, your throat tightening. âI screamed inside my own body, but the demon just laughed. I couldnât stop myself when it pretended to be me, when it ran straight into Deanâs arms.â Your breath wavered. âAnd I couldnât stop myself when I took the knife and stabbed my own body. Twice. In front of my father and the Winchesters.â
Your voice cracked, and suddenly, Hotchâs hand was on your cheek, gently brushing away the tears you hadnât realized had fallen.
You swallowed hard. âThatâs why I got the tattoo.â You forced a shrug, like it wasnât a big deal. âAnyway, after that, my father enrolled me in the FBI Academy to replace him instead of my brother. I already knew the truth, so it was easier that way. My siblings⊠still have no clue.â
Silence stretched between you, heavy but not suffocating.
Hotch took a slow step closer, his fingers grazing your chin, tilting your face up toward his. His breath mixed with yours, his lips so close but they barely brushed against yours, teasing, testing.
A shiver ran through you at the warmth of his mouth hovering over yours, the tension building with every second he didnât close the gap. It was agonizing, intoxicating.
And then you broke.
You surged forward, your lips meeting his lips in a kiss full of desperation and longing. Hotch responded instantly, his hands sliding to your jaw, his grip firm yet gentle, anchoring you to him. His lips moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, like he was memorizing your mouth, savoring every second.
The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against yours, drawing a quiet whimper from your throat. He tasted like warmth and control, like safety. His fingers slipped into your hair, tightening just enough to send a spark down your spine.
He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like he wanted to unravel you piece by piece.
And you let him.
That night, Hotch kissed you like no one ever had before. In a single kiss, he made you feel cherished and desired.
And little did you know, you made him feel the exact same way.
Could you please write a Hotch fic where male reader like likes Hotch and even though he tries to be subtle, the whole team knows and then he and Hotch ends up having to share a room on a case and Hotch being chill with that and the reader just full out having gay panic. (Which is just internal screaming basically and trying not to look while looking and being very embarrassed. Sorry, I dont know your sexual orientation, so I figured Iâd share what gay panic meant)
A/N: This was the fluffiest thing Iâve ever written. Also, Iâm gay :)
Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral!Reader
Summary: Youâve been pining for your boss since the day you first met, but when a case in Alabama leads to you sharing a room, feelings are revealedâŠ
â ïžTWâ ïžÂ Nightmares, Vulnerable!Hotch đ„ș
Masterlist
ââąâ
Youâve been working in the BAU for two years, five days, one hour, and fifty-seven minutes. Youâve been in love with your boss for two years, five days, one hour, and thirty-seven minutes. Youâve tried to keep it secret, of course you have, especially since fraternising is frowned upon. Sure, thereâs Penelope and Derek, but they flirt in a joking manner, the way best friends do. Unlike you, who becomes a flustered mess the moment Hotch looks at you.
Everyone in the office knows. they see the longing looks you give him, the way you seem to daze off the moment Hotch starts talking, the way you struggle to hold a conversation with him.
âWhat you doing there?â
You jump about ten feet in the air, startled by the sudden presence of Emily next to you. You cough, regaining your composure before shrugging.
âI-I donât know what you mean,â you reply, fiddling with your pen and looking at the paperwork on your desk, tearing your eyes away from the office window. Hotchâs office.
âSo weâre just going to pretend that no one notices the way you gawp at Hotch anytime youâre in a five-mile radius of him?â She teases, ruffling your hair. You swat at her, making her laugh, before fixing it. You go to retort, but are cut off by said boss walking out his office.
âMy team, briefing room.â
You scramble up and to the table, taking your seats. Penelope starts the briefing, handing out the iPads and paper file as she gives a rundown of the case. Two teens have been murdered in Monroeville, Alabama. As the briefing continues, however, the others canât help but notice the way their unit chief is acting. Heâs staring off a little more than usual, stealing glances wherever he can. He isnât properly listening to Penelope and instead distracted by something, or someone, around the table.
They look between each other and decide then and there they have to do something.
ââąâ
âLetâs call it a night. We arenât going to progress if weâre sleep-deprived.â
The team have been looking over this case for the best part of eight hours now, and as the night draws in, itâs hard to miss the yawns and sleepy eyes shared in the conference room. Thereâs a mumble of agreement as Rossi goes to ask the sheriff whatâs around in terms of motels and places to stay. Thereâs a small inn across town with some vacancies, but thatâs it.
Itâll have to do.
âHey, you okay?â
You snap out of your tired daze to look up at Hotch, whoâs got a small smirk on his face as he holds out his hand, offering it to you. You take it and Aaron helps you up.
âTh-Thanks,â you mumble, quickly following the others outside in hopes itâll cool your burning cheeks. You ride to the motel and go to the reception, booking rooms. Thatâs where things go a little wrong.
âWe have three double rooms and one with a queen bed,â she tells Rossi, who nods in understanding, though a little annoyed, and takes the keys. He walks back over to the group.
âFour rooms. Weâve got to double up,â he explains, failing to mention the queen bed. Unsurprisingly, JJ and Emily latch onto each other, as do Penelope and Derek. They take their keys from Rossi and head up, waving a goodnight and a mumbled âsee you tomorrowâ. Dave turns to the youngest. âC'mon kid. Weâll share.â
Spencer looks at him, and seeing the knowing look on his face, nods. He hands the key to you.
âYouâre with Hotch,â he murmurs with a smirk and your jaw drops.
âA-Are you sure? I mean, Spencer likes his things neat and-â
âKid, itâs fine. Go on.â He pushes you a little towards Hotch, whoâs staring off into space, thinking. Carefully, and with one last glare at the senior member, you tap his shoulder. He jumps, looking at you before relaxing again.
âI guess weâre sharing?â He asks, looking at the key. You sigh and nod. You two head to the room, and when you open the door, you notice one thing Dave forgot to mention.
Thereâs only one bed.
âFuckâs sake,â you mutter, lifting your bag and dropping it to one side of the bed and looking at Aaron. âI donât mind having the floor.â
Aaron smiles and shakes his head. âWeâll figure it out in a bit. You donât mind if I have first shower, do you?â He asks. You quickly shake your head, gesturing to the door of the ensuite.
âBe my guest.â
Aaron leaves and you sit on the edge of the bed, thinking.
Did he do this deliberately? I bet he did. God fucking damn it, Dave. I bet all the other rooms have two beds. I know what heâs trying to push, but it wonât happen. Aaronâs way out of my league, and anyway, itâs fraternising. Iâm not allowed. Weâre not allowed. Strauss would kill us if she found out. Found out what? Nothingâs going on between me and-
âIâm done. Thereâs still some hot water left.â
You snap out of your thinking and turn to face Aaron, before immediately turning away again. Heâs stood thereâŠin a pair of shorts and nothing else. Donât look. Donât look. Dear God donât look.
âY/N? You alright?â
You nod and grabs your own pyjamas from your bag, trying your hardest to keep your back to Aaron without it looking too strange as you head to the bathroom. âYeah. JustâŠbeen a long day.â
Aaron lets out a light laugh. âI guess, yeah.â
You have the fastest shower imaginable, not wanting to be seen as a hog by your boss, your crush, and quickly dry yourself off. You change and leave, looking between Aaron and the bed. âI can take the floor.â
Aaron shakes his head. âNonsense. Iâll have it,â he argues.
âWith your back? Aaron, trust me, I really donât mind,â you counter. Aaron. You like the way it rolls of your tongue. No. Stop it.
âWhy donât we share? Weâre coworkers. We can be professional,â Aaron suggests. He has to suppress a smirk. A chance to share a bed with you? He wouldnât pass it up in a million years. You swallow and give a curt nod, walking over and turning the bedside light off. You take the right side, Aaron on the left.
Itâs just for a few nights. You can do this.
ââąâ
âNo. Youâre dead.â
You groggily open your eyes, adjusting to the darkness of the room. âHm?â
âNo. Itâs not you. Not again. No! Donât touch him!â
Immediately, youâre awake, sitting up and looking around for the source of the voice. Your mind clears enough for you to focus a little better. Itâs Aaron.
You lean over, turning the bedside lamp on and looking at your boss with a furrowed brow. Heâs sweating, almost thrashing around, and mumbling.
âAaron?â You ask, shaking him lightly. âAaron? Itâs alright, youâre okay. Itâs a nightmare.â It doesnât take a profiler to guess what the nightmareâs aboutâFoyet. He doesnât talk about it much, unsurprisingly, but it didnât occur to you that itâd still affect him. You shake him a little harder. âAaron, itâs Y/N. Youâre alright. Just open your eyes. Youâre safe.â
The unit chief shoots up with a start, breathing quickly and heavily, as though fighting. You place a hand on his shoulder, saying quiet affirmations to him, pulling Aaron back down.
âYouâre okay. Youâre safe. Foyetâs dead, Jack is fine. Heâs with your sister. Everythingâs okay.â
Aaron doesnât like people seeing him like this; struggling with nightmares and trauma. The only person who did wasâŠHaley. His wife. Now, heâs next to someone else, whoâs comforting him just as well. It fills him with a warmth he wasnât expecting.
âSorry,â he mutters, finally finding the strength to look you in the eyes. You give a small smile and shake your head.
âYou donât have to apologise. Even the best of us get nightmares. Nothing to be ashamed of,â you reassure. âDo you want to talk about it?â
No. Aaron doesnât want to, but when he looks into your eyes, itâs like the anxiety and fear melt away. Youâre the light at the end of the tunnel. He lets out a small sigh.
âIt wasâŠFoyet,â he cringes at the voice crack. âHe had Jack, andâŠandâŠâ He doesnât know how to phrase the next part. You nod, rubbing his shoulder and moving to his back.
âItâs okay. Donât rush it,â you comfort. Hotch nods and takes a breath. Now or never.
âHe had you. He was going to kill you, and Jack. I wasâŠscared. The truth is,â he takes another breath, âI havenât been able to keep my eyes off you since you started working here. Itâs a strange thing, love. It can make you feel so many things and I guess falling head over heels for someone can be good and bad.â
Thereâs a silence as you take this in. He likes me back? Holy shit. Now itâs your turn.
âIâve worked at the BAU for two years, five days, ten hours, and forty-three minutes. Iâve been in love with my boss for two years, five days, ten hours, and twenty-three minutes,â you confess. âI never told you, especially after we had that fraternising seminar. I thought I was being subtle, but it turns out the whole team knew. I guess thatâs what I get for working with profilers.â You two share a slight laugh, quiet, but sonorous.
âHang on, why did it take you twenty minutes to fall in love?â Aaron asks with a smirk. You smile.
âMy first twenty minutes was with Strauss getting a tour of the place,â you remind him, making Aaron nod his head. Itâs only now he notices how close youâve got to each other. Heâs practically in your lap, you with an arm around his shoulders and holding him close. He smiles and looks up at you, slowly leaning in.
The kiss is tender, but nonetheless full of love and years of bottled up emotion. You smile, running a hand through Aaronâs hair and kissing his temple.
âDo you think you can go back to sleep?â You ask. Aaron shrugs and you lie back down, now a tangled mess of limbs.
âI donât know. Sometimes I could, sometimes I couldnât,â he admits. âYou should, though. We have to meet early with the sheriff tomorrow.â
You smile, feeling Aaronâs arms snake around your waist before an idea pops into your head.
âY'know, my mum always used to sing to me when I couldnât sleep,â you muse. Aaron looks up, cocking an eyebrow. He doesnât say a word, though, instead choosing to nuzzle into your shoulder, finding comfort in your scent.
âBlackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise,â you sing softly and Aaron canât help the look of pure glee as his mind clears. Thereâs no fear, no worry, no anxiety. Nothing.
Just peace.
âBlackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these sunken eyes and learn to see. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free.â
cw; +18 content! minors dni!, THIS IS FILTHY. NAAAAASTY, youâve been warned. mean harsh dom! spencer and bratty sub! reader, nasty make outs, spanking, hair pulling, cursing, degradation and praise (not quite towards you), use of good girl (again, not towards you), dirty talking, oral sex (s! receiving), face fucking, edging, gagging, facial, multiple orgasms and rounds implied, teasing, begging, hickeys, choking, spencer being a little bit of a pervert, piv sex, using cum as lube, unprotected sex (guys donât do this), scratching, pussy talking, breeding kink, creampie, squirting, slapping, spitting, spencer has crazy staminaâŠ
from this request.
@cherriesinthespring & @brattyspence đ
you were actually exhausted. whole body aching, the last thing you needed was to talk to him, but as always, there he was. your asshole of a flatmate. with his stupid glasses on as his amber eyes strolled through the pages of his book miles per hour.
âwell, look who it is. past midnight. seems like cinderella by how fucked up you look.â
you rolled your eyes at the smirk on his tone, kicking off your heels. âfuck off reid, iâm not in the mood for your bullshit.â
your relationship had been strained from the start⊠you two were like oil and water. always had been, since the two of you were five and had the sufficient conscience to choose if you liked each other or not. and believe me, if you had had another choice⊠you wouldnât have even taken up the offer to live with him. but your mother, dianaâs best friend, as soon as she had learnt that you had been given a promotion and needed to move to quantico? had told the blonde, who excitedly told her that spencer was looking for a flatmate. that sealed your destiny. and now there you were. sharing space with the person you loathed most in the entire world.
âhell, okay, youâre not fucked up at all, âcause getting some dick wouldnât have left you like that.â
you groaned, your head throbbing, full body tense. âwell at least i get to fuck, not like you, you only get off to letters on paper.â
and he dared to chuckle, fucking chuckle. he closed his book and put it aside, tall frame leaving its seat at the sofa to slowly stroll over you.
âwell isnât your vocabulary a delight?â he crooked his head. ânow why donât you tell me whatâs gotten you all bothered, princess. âcause iâm sure my incredible presence cannot be it.â he said sarcastically, but he seemed intrigued to know what had happened. âhard day at work? did starbucks ran out of caramel drizzle? or is your rose toy dead?â
âyou littleâŠâ your hands were reaching for his throat, but he was faster, his tongue clicking as his strong long fingers surrounded your wrists, stopping you centimeters away from his warm skin.
âreally, doll? trying to choke an fbi agent? such a bad girlâŠâ you gasped as he pinned you against the wall. âyou could get in a lot of trouble for that. maybe i should use my cuffs on you. or maybe not, iâm sure youâd end up enjoying it.â he muttered that last part against your ear, your cheeks reddish in both anger and embarrassment.
âfuck you.â you spat, and he chuckled, dark and teasingly against the skin if your neck. you were not done. he wanted to play dirty? two could do that. âand what do you say about extortion of people by your power, huh? an fbi agent trying to make me kneel under him for his status? i could easily get you fired. you should be ashamed, reid⊠but⊠it seems like you are more like⊠excited, huh?â and with a roll of your hips against him you confirm what you had suspected: he was hard. rock hard at that.
he smirked at you, ignoring your jab as he leaned over you. âare you threatening me?â he muttered against your lips, his tongue wetting his bottom one.
your eyes followed the movement, and your throat dried up. you squinted at him. âare you?â
âyou know⊠all this brattiness of yours is really getting on my nerves.â
âreally? by how hard you are⊠i would believe youâre enjoying it.â you muttered back. your breaths were mingling. there was heat pooling down on your lower stomach. and the tension exuding from your bodies could be cut with a knife.
âyou need to learn to keep your mouth shut.â he growled, eyes dangerous.
âbut wouldnât you like it wide openâŠ, reid?â
you could feel the moment he said âfuck itâ, his brown eyes now completely pitch black. âyeah? then open the fuck up.â
and next thing you knew? his tongue was deep into your mouth, which had willingly fallen open for him. the two of you groaned, and the tight hold he had on your wrists turned bruising. it was as if he hated the idea that he desired you so much. maybe he did. maybe you did. but right now the only thing you could focus on was on his hard cock pushing against your belly, and how soaked your panties felt stuck against your throbbing clit. when had you gotten so wet?
a moan left you as his plush lips surrounded your tongue and sucked, a hum leaving his chest when he then moved to your neck, sucking some more on the skin there.
âi think i ought to teach you a lesson, donât you?â you whined as he bit down on your pulse point. âanswer me.â a choked gasp left your lips when one of his hands, the one that wasnât holding now both your wrists up, came down harsh against the side of your thigh on a smack.
âyes.â
âthatâs what i thought.â he purred, and your eyes almost rolled back at the sound of his deep voice. âon your knees.â he ordered as he let go of you, and busied his now free hands on unbuttoning his slacks. you got lost for a minute there as you caught sight of the wet patch decorating his boxers, but he was quick to get you back on page. your eyes widened when his hand took harshly your face. âdo i need to repeat myself?â he hissed and you shook your head. âthen. get. on. your. fucking. knees.â you complied, knees on the hardwood floor, puppy eyes staring right onto his. âthat wasnât so hard, wasnât it? letâs hope you suck cock better than you follow orders.â
your pussy fluttered. fuck. why was this turning you on so much?
âshow me that tongue.â you stuck it out to him. pink. salivating. ready. he hummed and pushed down his boxers and pants down his thighs. your eyes widened at the sight of his thick cock. âletâs keep that dirty mouth of yours busy, yeah?â and before you could even react, you were gagging around him. it hurt. your lips were fully stretched around him, and your jaw was about to give up by the uncomfortable stuffiness. but god⊠it felt so good⊠he tasted so good⊠reid groaned, fingers winding into your hair and tugging as his hips snapped and his cock hit down your throat. âfuck. so that mouth is actually good for something, huh?â
your eyes couldnât help but water, your nails scratching at his thighs as he didnât even give you a chance to adjust before starting to fuck your face. you couldnât help but moan, eyes rolling as the air in your lungs thinned. he was literally fucking you dumb. and you couldnât love it more.
âsuch a fucking slut. look at you. you act harsh but as soon as a dick is shoved into your throat you start to act like a good girl, hm?â you whined, thighs squeezing against the other, throat swallowing around him and making him grunt. âjesus, youâre tight. wonder how your pussy will be. probably will have to stretch it open first, break it in since you havenât brought anyone home to fuck since you moved in, huh?â he chuckled. âthe walls are thin, you know? you think i donât hear you pumping your fingers into your little cunt every night? poor thing. youâre so desperate for cock you would take anyoneâs, huh? even mine. but, actually⊠iâm starting to believe itâs the one youâve been wanting the most, isnât it?â you whimpered. âhm? whatâd you think about while fucking your pussy, doll? did you think about me listening to you? that the reason why youâd moan louder? for me to hear? wanted me to come into your room and show you what a good orgasm is supposed to feel like?â you nodded, too lost to actually try and hide how the idea of him listening to you masturbating just a few doors away made you squirt all over your sheets. he chuckled. low. mockingly. âof course you did.â he pushed down your throat even harder. âall that time acting as though you hated me and you just liked me, huh?â you gasped and coughed as he pulled out of your mouth, smacking his wet leaking cock against your flushed cheek.
âi hate you.â you swore and his eyes glinted.
âyeah? well, for someone who hates me, you really love sucking my cock.â he chuckled when, while gliding his tip along your bottom lip, your mouth subconsciously opened. âyou want it?â
you kept silent. what could you say? you couldnât say no. that would be a lie. but you also couldnât say yes, thatâd would make it too easy for him. but before you could catch yourself you wereâŠ
âplease.â
begging.
his smile was that of the cheshire cat. âatta girl.â you moaned when he fed it back to you, pumping it down your throat over and over again. you relished on the musky scent, on the tuffs of hair of his base kissing your nose, on his tip making you gag over and over again until you became so messy and sloppy that trails of spit dribbled down past your lips and chin onto your thighs. âthaaaatâs it. so messy. canât help but want toâŠâ and then youâre gasping as hot spurts of cum hit your face, making you even more messier. spencer moans as he strokes every last drop out of his breeding tightening balls. âfuck. look at you. so pretty like thisâŠâ your mouth stays open for the dripping of it, the salty release hitting your tongue and making you hum.
when you open your eyes, your cunt throbs. he looks gone. wild in pleasure. and starving.
âget up.â your legs shake and you almost trip by how fast you complied. âiâm not done with you yet.â
not even 10 seconds go by before youâre being thrown onto his bed âhis bedroom being the nearest one of the twoâ, and another 10 is what it takes him to get you bare before his eyes. his eyes appreciatively took the sight of your heaving chest and rosy nipples in, the smoothness of your tummy, the plush of your thighsâŠ
he pumps his still rock hard cock. how does he manage to have that much stamina? it hadnât even gone down ânot in the slightestâ after making a mess of your face with his cum.
âitâs not gonna-â you try and say, but his words cut you off quickly enough.
âmouth shut. eyes on me. legs open. iâll make it fit. even if i have to break apart your pussy for it.â you swallow, and god, if you hadnât youâd have died of embarrassment by the whimper that tried to leave your throat.
you open your legs for him. pussy lips spread, soaking wet just for him, hole twitching in need of being fucked and clit puffy and sensitive pleading to be touched.
âknew sheâd be prettyâŠâ he groans, licking at his lips, hand tightening around his dick. his fingers come to your sticky cheek and gathers ropes of his cum, and before you could inquire him about it, heâs stuffing them into your needy little cunt. âjesus, sheâs tight. canât wait to break her openâŠâ your eyes roll as he sinks them to the knuckle and curls up up up until he hits that spongy spot that makes you sing the prettiest moans late at night when you know he can hear you.
âspencerâŠ!â you whimper, your legs falling further apart, hips twitching for more.
âthatâs it. open up for me.â he smirked, pushing a third finger inside that has you choking on a scream, walks tightening down hard around his digits he grunts. âtrynna milk me so soon, baby? i havenât even put it in.â
he fucks you open with harsh strokes, but heâs diligent, he makes sure youâre slicked up and ready, loose enough for his puffy head.
but when he aligns it up with your entrance, his jaw ticks. âitâs gonna be a tight fit. now, say âbiiiiig stretchâ for me, mh?â
âbiiiigângh!!!!â you canât even comply, not when heâs basically splitting you in half. your nails dig on his back as he pants and tries to fit in past the first ring of muscles.
âjesus.fuck.â with a âpop!â his tip presses in, and you two moan in unison. your lungs feel like youâre on fire, and your eyes sting. but fuck if it doesnât feel good being so full. âgood girlâŠâ he praises. and at first you think itâs directed towards you. but no. his thumb sweetly circles your clit and you cry. âtaking me so good⊠youâre doing so good for me⊠now, open a little bit more for me, hm?â
heâs talking. to your pussy.
but itâs not âlittleâ how much it has to open to accommodate him. every fucking inch is devastating. and by the time his balls hit your ass, his tip âif it could be possibleâ would have breached your cervix and fucked itself into your womb.
he falls onto you the moment you clench, and groans against your neck. âif only i had known youâd feel this good⊠i would have fucked you much sooner.â he then looks at your dizzy eyes and faded face. youâre half brain dead on his cock. he canât help but chuckle. âso this was the fastest way to make you behave and shut up, huh? good to know.â he slaps at your cheek, and you blink, breathing ragged and heavy, his hips grinding deep against your cervix, making you whimper. âdonât you dare tap out on me. i havenât had my way with you yet.â
and then heâs fucking you. reeeeeally fucking you.
your back arches, your nails draw blood down his back, and your cunt gushes in lewd wet sounds that resonate around his room by how hard and deep he plunges into you.
âfuck. so good⊠best pussy iâve ever had. made for me, arenât you, gorgeous?â he murmurs, and you are so lost⊠heâs mean. his hands are rough as they grip your hips in a way you know will bruise, and his cock is so harshly fucking you open that you believe heâll leave the imprint of himself permanently molded to your walls.
you can feel every vein, every ridge.
âspencer, spencer, spencerâŠ!â you cry and he chuckles in between grunts.
âso now itâs âspencerâ, huh? what happened to âreidâ? youâre so happy to get dicked down that youâre calling me by my name now?â one of his hands surrounds your neck, and when it tightens⊠your pussy does as well. âfuck! and here i thought you couldnât get tighterâŠâyour legs cage him, making your back arch and his dick reach deeper in places no one ever had. âneedy little girl⊠feels good, huh?â you moan, mouth open and he takes the chance to spit on it. and when you quickly and obediently swallow what he gives you? he speeds up. âfucking slut. you love this, donât you? love the fact that iâm breaking you apart. fuck. you even let me go in raw, bet youâll even let me breed you if i wanted, huh?â your cunt flutters and his head hangs for a second as a strangled moan leaves him. just for a moment there, he almost lost control and busted. âyou want it, honey? want my cum deep into this pretty little womb of yours?â you moan and he lets go of your neck to slap your cheek again, softly, but harsh enough to make your clit twitch. âanswer me.â
âyes, yes, plea-â
ânot you.â he grunts, going harsher, deeper, faster. âiâm not talking to you. iâm talking to her.â your breath leaves your lungs once two of his fingers meet your puffy clit, rolling it, pinching it. your pussy squelches. and he hums. âyeah? you want it that much?â another squeeeelch!, youâre dripping down to his sheets. âthen take it, pretty. itâs all yours.â and you scream, âcause the way in which youâre coming when his thick warm ropes of cum fill you is insane. itâs like nothing youâve ever felt before. your ears ring, your vision darkens at the corners, your brain seems to melt, and your pussy squirts in little unstopping spurts that soak his cock, balls, sheets⊠your juices are everywhere, and fuck if it doesnât make spencer come even harderâŠ
by the time his balls are drained and his hips halt, his cock up to the base inside you to keep you plugged in with his cum, youâre basically passed out, eyes crossed as you try to focus back onto the present. you canât even remember your name. fuck, you canât even remember how to breath.
and your legs shake like crazy when in a flip heâs got you on all fours âwell not all, since one of his hands has your face smudged against one of his pillowsâ. âagain.â he says, breathless as he pushes in his still hard cock into your abused and stuffed cunt. âshow me how you squirt again. i wanna see it again.â
Can you write a story where the reader, a BAU member, is on maternity leave after she and Aaron just had a baby? One day, she goes to the office to bring their daughter to visit Aaron, only to find him in the bullpen with the agent who replaced her while sheâs been on leave. The replacement has a crush on Aaron and doesnât know that heâs married to the reader. The replacement becomes jealous when she sees how much attention Aaron is giving their daughter and confronts the reader, but Aaron gets angry and ends up firing her."
Family first | [A.H]
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: Fluff, mom!reader, they have a daugther, bitch of a replacement coworker who doesn't know her place.
As you stepped into the all too familiar bullpen you were met with the usual sound of phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and the occasional laughter bubbling up from conversations between team members. You hadnât stepped foot in the office in months â your maternity leave had been an endless storm of sleepless nights, diaper changes, and indescribable moments of joy. Now, cradling your six-month-old daughter in your arms, you stood at the threshold of the office, taking it all in â realizing how little you'd missed working, as long as you got to spend your time with your daughter.
âReady to surprise Daddy?â you cooed to your baby, brushing a soft kiss against her fluffy head. She giggled in response, her little hand grasping at your necklace â the one Aaron had gotten you with a charm of your daughter's initial. Her chubby fingers wrapped around the charm, and you couldnât help but smile at her curiosity.
Heads turned as you had entered, and a wave of warmth spread through you as familiar voices from your friends greeted you.
âY/N!â Garciaâs exclamation came first as she flew across the bullpen, pulling away from her conversation with Morgan, her colorful dress trailing behind her. âOh my gosh, let me see that precious little angel!â
You laughed, carefully handing over your daughter as Garcia immediately began cooing at her. Emily, Morgan, and JJ soon gathered around, their faces lighting up at the sight of the baby.
âLook at those cheeks,â Morgan said, his voice soft as he tickled her tiny hand. âHotch better have her signed up for karate classes already. Gotta keep the boys away.â
âOr girls,â Emily added. âSheâs going to be a heartbreaker either way.â
You beamed at their affection, the teamâs love for your little family filling your heart. âWhere is Aaron?â you asked, glancing toward his office. The blinds were drawn, but you knew he wasnât inside.
JJ nodded toward the conference room. âHeâs in there, showing something to Agent Morrison.â
Your smile faltered slightly at the mention of Morrison, the agent who had been brought in temporarily to cover your leave. You hadnât met her yet, but youâd heard through the grapevine that she was ambitious, skilled, and confident â maybe a little too confident.
You spotted Aaron through the windows, his back turned as he reviewed what you assumed were some case files with Morrison. He looked relaxed yet tired, his tie slightly loosened, though his usual air of authority remained in place. Morrison stood close to him â a little too close â her laughter ringing out at something he said.
Your lips pressed into a thin line, but you pushed the feeling aside. Aaron was your husband, your partner, and the father of the baby currently making grabby hands at Morganâs face. You had no reason to feel insecure.
Morgan handed your daughter back to you as you went to greet your husband.
And still, as you approached, you couldnât help but notice the way Morrisonâs body language leaned toward him, her hand brushing his forearm as she laughed again. Aaron didnât seem to notice â or if he did, he wasnât encouraging it.
When you reached the conference room, Aaron glanced up, and the moment his eyes met yours, his entire demeanor softened.
âY/N,â he said, his voice filled with warmth and surprise. His gaze immediately dropped to the baby in your arms, and he stood quickly, coming around the desk to envelop you both in a hug.
âYou shouldâve told me you were coming,â he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple before gently brushing a finger across your daughterâs cheek. She squealed in delight, reaching out for him, and he took her into his arms with ease.
âIt wouldnât have been a surprise if I told you,â you replied, grinning as you watched him cradle her. âI figured you could use a break.â
Aaronâs smile widened, and he kissed the babyâs forehead before turning back to you. âI always have time for my girls.â
Morrisonâs voice cut into the moment, a hint of confusion lacing her words. âWait, your girls?â
You turned to her, offering a polite smile. âHi, Iâm Y/N. Aaronâs wife.â
Her eyes widened, darting between you, Aaron, and the baby. âWife?â she repeated, her tone almost incredulous.
Aaronâs arm settled protectively around your waist as he nodded. âYes, my wife. Y/N used to work here before going on maternity leave.â
Morrisonâs expression shifted, her initial surprise giving way to something more guarded. âOh. I⊠I didnât realize.â
âWell, now you do,â Aaron said firmly, his tone polite but edged with finality, hoping that your visit would make Morrison drop her antics.
The tension in Morrisonâs posture was clear as day, but she pasted on a smile. âSheâs adorable,â she said, nodding toward the baby. âYouâre very lucky.â
Aaronâs grip on you tightened slightly. âI know I am.â
The interaction seemed to conclude there, and Morrison excused herself, claiming she had paperwork to finish. But as the day went on, it became clear that the encounter had unsettled her. You noticed her watching you from across the room, her eyes narrowing whenever Aaronâs attention lingered on you or the baby.
Finally, as you were gathering your things to leave, Morrison approached you near the elevator. Her smile was tight, her tone clipped.
âCan I talk to you for a moment?â she asked, glancing around to ensure no one else was within earshot.
You raised an eyebrow but nodded. âSure. Whatâs on your mind?â
Her polite facade dropped almost instantly. âYou donât have to flaunt your relationship in front of everyone,â she said sharply. âItâs unprofessional.â
Your jaw tightened, but you kept your voice calm. âIâm not sure what you mean.â
She scoffed. âYou know exactly what I mean. Walking in here with your baby like you own the place, acting like Hotch is your personal property⊠Itâs distracting and completely inappropriate.â
You blinked, stunned by the audacity. Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension.
âAgent Morrison.â
Aaronâs tone was ice-cold, and you turned to see him standing a few feet away, his expression thunderous. âA word, please. Now.â
Morrisonâs face paled as she stammered, âI⊠I didnât meanâŠâ
âMy office. Now.â
You watched as Aaron led her away, his posture stiff with fury. The bullpen had fallen silent, and you could feel the eyes of your colleagues on you, but you held your head high, refusing to let Morrisonâs pettiness rattle you.
Minutes later, Aaron returned, his expression softer but still serious. He placed a hand on your arm, guiding you toward the elevator. âLetâs go home,â he said quietly.
As the elevator doors closed, you glanced up at him. âWhat happened?â
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. âMorrison wonât be returning. Her behavior was unacceptable, and I made it clear that we wonât tolerate that kind of attitude here.â
You nodded, your heart swelling with gratitude and love for the man beside you. âThank you.â
Aaronâs eyes softened as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. âNo one disrespects my family,â he said firmly. âNo one.â
Synopsis: You land in Los Angeles for a one-month escape. Part solo adventure, part soul search. Itâs your first time in the city of neon dreams and casual fame, and you plan on keeping things chill. A few new friends, some spontaneous nights, and maybe a little mischief. Nothing too deep but that changes the night you get invited to a private Halloween party in the Hills. Exclusive. Celeb-packed. The kind of party youâve only ever seen through Instagram stories. Youâre there as a plus-one to a sweet influencer you matched with, but fateâor maybe just chaotic timingâthrows you into the path of Harry Styles.
Drunk. Flirty. And frustratingly magnetic.
Heâs famous, youâre temporary.
A story of missed timing, magnetic pull, and what happens when you fall too hard for someone who was never supposed to be yoursâŠ. until maybe, just maybe, he is.
