friday night fire fight - oneshots

the bad batch

who am i riding?
modern!au bad batch x f!reader
2.8k words

summary: your night out at a bar takes a bad turn. luckily, your knights in shining armor show up just in time.

tags/warnings: consumption of alcohol, attempted assault, attempted drink drugging, some violence, mentions of war violence, suggestive content

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Even you had to admit, perhaps this hadn't been the best idea you'd ever had.

Tonight had supposed to have been about letting off some steam, about forgetting the worries and stressed and woes of the week, about maybe flirting with a few guys who would beg for your number as you walked out the door. You'd even convinced your best friend to accompany you to the bar, your anticipation for Friday night growing as it at last dawned upon you.

Yet here you were - sitting alone at the bar, heels tucked shyly beneath your stool and a glass filled with your preferred choice and melting ice sweating against your palm. With a small exhale, you checked your phone only to find an empty screen staring back at you. She stood you up - how charming.

Suddenly this Friday night seemed better for wallowing in your self pity at home than out by your lonesome at a bar filled with couples and friends. Yet for whatever reason you could not place, you decided to stay. Maybe some small, selfish part of you wanted the attention you were desperately craving. Maybe you just couldn't stand the empty apartment waiting for you back home, the lights still dim you entered and the halls empty and devoid of any trace of life.

As you took a sip of your drink, you shut your eyes and rested your chin in your palm. The sharp aroma from freshly painted nails wafted up to your nostrils, causing them to crinkle.

It wasn't much of a secret you were quite lonely in this little life of yours. Your parents still lived in your hometown - six states over - and you didn't have any siblings. No significant other to share your nights with, not too many friends to laugh with over beers, even.

Oh, well, you thought as you took another sip. You were perfectly fine being on your own.

And yet you couldn't ignore that small part of yourself that argued you weren't fine with it.

Becoming bored with the sports game playing on the flatscreen against the bar wall, you cast a subtle glance around the rest of the building. It was a nice little place, rustic and wood-styled. Not the Ritz, but okay. It wasn't crowded, even for a Friday evening. A couple laughed quietly over their drinks at a small table on their own. A number of young men conversed at a booth in the corner. A small crew of boys howled as they knocked pool cues against balls on the green felted table.

You pursed your lips as you made eye contact with one of the boys playing pool. He was attractive. Not particularly your type, but good looking enough to make you smile in return when he sent a grin your way. Unable to speak from across the room, he raised an arm and gestured to the pool table. He was offering you a spot amongst them.

Societal rules said you had to decline the first invitation. Dutifully, you shook your head and smiled. No, thank you. He tilted his head flirtatiously, then gestured again. You glanced down at your drink, then exhaled a small chuckle and got to your feet. Carrying your glass in one hand and your purse in the other, you made your way languidly toward the table. In response to your arrival, the boys whooped and hollered.

"Ignore them," said the man who invited you over as he offered you a chair to put down your things. "They never matured past high school!" He yelled the last few words, receiving a few scoffs and swears in return. He passed you an extra cue, then leaned against his own and did that head tilt once more that - and you hated to admit it - got your stomach fluttering. "I'm Andy. Thanks for coming over."