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pathologicalreid · 15 days

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for the fear of falling apart | part five

there's one last chance for everything to fall apart, but this time you aren't at the center of disaster - Spencer is

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst content warnings: lots of future talk (marriage and pregnancy), takes place during 15x10 "and in the end", explosions, the chameleon arc, spencer's hospital stay, sibling loss, diana's alzheimers, canon cm violence word count: 7.34k a/n: so this is the last part! i can't resist doing an epilogue, so a cutie little "where are they now" part on the horizon, but this was always the way it was going to end. as always, telling me your thoughts is the sexiest thing you can do.

“She’s not a threat,” Spencer pointed out, carrying on a conversation with you while he adjusted the straps of your bulletproof vest, pulling it tightly around you to cover as much of your torso as possible. You’d complain about him taking away your ability to breathe but if it brought peace to his busy mind, you could sacrifice your full lung capacity.

You flattened your palm against the SWAT truck for support while he resumed tugging at the Velcro straps of your Kevlar, “Speak for yourself! You’re not the favorite stepdaughter of a woman that you can’t stand.”

Deciding your vest was as secure as it was going to get, Spencer stood up, sharing a look with the SWAT commander before turning his attention back to you, “Why are you the favorite stepdaughter again?”

Dramatically, you tilted your head back and looked at the sky, “Because JJ had a child out of wedlock. I’m the favorite by default.” It was funny to think of your stepmother choosing you as a favorite, but you supposed the pickings were rather slim. “Hey,” you continued, “There’s an idea.”

“Uh huh,” Spencer responded mockingly, “Pick a new subject, please.”

Rolling your eyes, you rested fully against the armored truck, scuffing your boots against the gravel driveway to Everett Lynch’s house. “You’re no fun,” you accused, trying to use your family issues as a discussion to pass the time before you had permission from Emily to put your plan into motion.

Spencer hummed in response, watching your sister as she answered her phone and hopefully received instruction from Emily. You didn't like lingering out here like sitting ducks, no matter how many armed agents there were with you.

Matching JJ’s gaze, she nodded to you and Spencer, letting you know that Emily had given the go-ahead.

Quickly, Spencer slipped his phone from his pocket and dialed the number that he had previously memorized. You heard the phone ring as he held it up to his ear, and then a woman’s voice came through, “No, Roberta my name is Dr. Spencer Reid and it’s important that you listen to me right now.” He fed the Lynch matriarch instructions over the phone, “Even though you have the gun, the moment your son realizes you’re not gonna shoot him, he’s gonna get the upper hand.”

You couldn’t make out her response, but based on the way Spencer’s eyebrows were pinched together, you worried he wasn’t getting through to her.

“Yes,” he answered over the phone, “but first you need to let Olivia walk out of there, okay?” The next step was simple enough, and not long after he spoke, you saw the teenager run out of the house.

JJ had the opportunity to take the Chameleon out earlier that day, but he’d used Olivia and her diabetes as a bargaining chip. You lingered with Spencer while JJ ran out to meet her, gently guiding her behind the barricade to the waiting ambulance.

Instinctively, you set your hand on your firearm as a single gunshot rang out from the house, “Roberta,” Spencer urged, “that warning shot is what’s about to give you away, but we can help. Are you ready for us to come in?” He waited almost too long before speaking again, “Roberta?”

He looked back at the SWAT captain as everything hinged on Roberta’s response, and when Spencer gave the order to breach, you took your spot next to the armored truck. Your instructions were very clear, you were in charge of Everett once he was apprehended, and JJ was in charge of Roberta.

Across from you, JJ’s phone rang, you couldn’t hear either end of the conversation, but you could see the fear in her eyes when she looked up at Spencer and all of the other SWAT agents headed toward the structure. You took a few steps forward, trying to follow after Spencer, but JJ shouted your name and caught your attention right as the bomb went off.

The blast warped your perception of time. You looked back at the house on fire before your eyes automatically searched for Spencer. Everything was moving in slow motion, but even so, there he was, on the ground. “Spence,” you yelped before scrambling forward, dropping to your knees at his side.

Spencer started to rise from the driveway, propping himself up on his elbows. He likely couldn’t hear you, based on the way your own ears were ringing while you checked him over for injuries.

“Are you okay?” You asked him anyway, “Baby, can you hear me?” He tried to sit up, but you settled your hands on his shoulders, “No, it’s okay, stay down.” You continued to speak to him, taking time to shout instructions for the now scrambled first responders.

JJ called your name again, causing your head to snap in her direction, “Your head is bleeding,” she told you, jogging toward you and Spencer.

You rose on shaky legs as your sister took your face in her hands, frantically checking the wound that you couldn’t feel. Waving away paramedics, you urged them to assist the downed SWAT agents instead of you, “It’s fine, Jayg,” you breathed, straightening yourself out and keeping an eye on Spencer.

“Are you feeling alright?” You whispered to Spencer, noting the lack of focus in his eyes, you resisted the urge to wave your hand in front of his face.

He hummed in response, “I’m fine.”

Unable to help it, you frowned at him. ‘Fine’ had been his only sensation from the moment you arrived at the hospital in Reno until now. ‘Fine’ was a term used by people who were avoiding any genuine emotion, and you couldn’t entirely blame him. Last you heard the casualty count from the explosion was up to seven – including Everett and Roberta Lynch.

He’d gotten an MRI at the hospital – not that you’d given him much choice – and it came back clear, so the rest of the team wasted no time in having the jet prepared to return to Quantico.

It wasn’t the silence that unnerved you, it was the absence of activity. Your sister sat in one of the chairs, periodically turning her head to check on you, Rossi and Matt had claimed their own spots throughout the aircraft, and you and Spencer were sequestered next to the galley. Everyone seemed to be disassociating from the events of the day.

You willed Spencer to pull a book out of his bag and start reading. You silently begged him to do something that you could find comfort in. Instead, he noticed you staring and leaned over to gently kiss the unmarred side of your forehead.

Taking a raincheck on Penelope’s vision-boarding, you made sure the two of you got home in one piece. “Do you need to clean it?” Spencer asked, gesturing to the mark on your forehead.

You kicked off your shoes in the entryway, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes as he sat down on the couch. “No, maybe in the morning,” you responded. “Are you gonna come to bed?”

“In a bit,” he offered, leaning his head back to look at you one more time before you disappeared into the bedroom.

There were a lot of things about the day that didn’t make any sense, but the one thing you couldn’t wrap your head around was Everett Lynch’s suicide. Not to be mistaken with sympathy, you didn’t understand how his particular personality type could choose to blow itself up. He was too confident, too narcissistic for that.

The doubt kept waking you up, each time you hoped to find that Spencer had finally come to bed. Once the clock struck four in the morning and he still hadn’t come to lie down, you crawled out of bed, expecting to find him asleep on the couch.

Your heart dropped when you found him on the floor, dried blood crusted around his nose, deathly still.

Phone, phone, phone – where was your phone?

Grabbing his phone off of the coffee table, your head spun as you dialed 911, crouching next to him as you tried to make out the sound of his breathing.

In a four-in-the-morning fugue, you went through the motions, answering all of the dispatcher’s questions, all of the paramedic’s questions, and all of the nurse’s questions.

The emergency department nurse looked at you sadly, not much more than a pile of limbs in a stiff plastic chair, “Is there anyone I can call for you?”

Swallowing thickly, you shrugged in response. You wanted her to call everyone and no one at the same time, building up walls around yourself made of materials that you couldn’t name. You needed to call Emily. You needed to call Diana. Frowning at the nurse, you gave it another moment of thought before responding, “My sister.”

JJ didn’t answer.

The nurse tried her twice and you called once from your phone, but there was no answer.

Spencer didn’t wake up. Dr. K didn’t seem confident that he would.

Like a metronome, the steady beeping of Spencer’s vital monitor nearly lulled you to sleep until the ringing of a phone interrupted the pattern. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and your stomach lurched at the realization that your sister was finally calling you back, “I have been trying to reach you all morning.”

Your sister was silent on the other side, and you wondered if you had come on too strong. “What happened?”

The world was falling apart around you. Your castle was crumbling with you in it. You looked longingly at Spencer before you answered, “I think he’s dying.”

Time passed in an inordinate pattern, convincing yourself that hours had passed when it had only been minutes. You had moved your chair to Spencer’s bedside, tracing the scar on the inside of his palm in time with the steady rising and falling of his chest.

“Have you been here all night?” Your older sister’s voice rang from the doorway, she didn’t wait to be welcomed in, immediately moving to the side of the bed opposite to you.

Your eyes followed her hand as she gently set a palm on his shoulder, her blonde hair curling around her face as she studied Spencer’s appearance. Quickly, she caught herself, straightening up and making her way around the bed so that she stood behind you, smoothing a hand through your hair like she did when you were just kids.

Penelope followed behind JJ on a delay, her skin paling at the sight of Spencer in the hospital bed. She stood at the foot of the bed, placing her hands on the footboard and taking several deep breaths.

“I went to bed without him last night. I wasn’t sleeping well, so when I woke up at four in the morning and he hadn’t made it to bed I went to see if he had fallen asleep on the couch, but he was just… on the floor,” You told them absently, watching Spencer as he slept and recalling the way you had found him in the apartment. His body contorted from falling on the ground with a puddle of blood beginning to gather beneath his head.

You couldn’t look at them. You couldn’t look away from him knowing that it could be the last time you see him alive. “What do you need?” JJ asked, continuing to smooth down your hair.

Clasping his hand in yours, you nodded to yourself reassuringly, “Can you call Brookfield? I need to talk to Diana. If she’s lucid enough, can you ask if they can bring her here? If he… she should be here.” Sinking into an abyss of unknowns, at the very least you knew that he’d want his mother here with him.

The two blondes shared a wary look, and you steeled yourself for a difficult conversation. Penelope left to call Brookfield on your behalf, but JJ stayed behind, dragging one of the plastic chairs over to the bed so she could sit next to you. “We got the casualty report back from the medical examiner in Reno,” she informed you; her voice was low – the tone she took up when she wasn’t sure how to navigate a situation.

You nodded in understanding, waiting for the bomb to drop.

“There were six SWAT agents, Roberta Lynch, and Orlando Gaines,” she told you gently, watching your face for any sign of a reaction.

You frowned, expecting her to add Everett Lynch to the tally later on for dramatic effect, but the moment never came, “Oh,” you breathed, looking at Spencer.

JJ continued to explain that, based on the blueprints of the house that he had pilfered from one of his victims, he had likely escaped using a tunnel system beneath the house. The Chameleon was in the wind, and Spencer might just be his latest victim. “We know he’s not done though,” JJ tried to reassure you, “He’ll resurface somewhere.”

“We don’t know where and we don’t know when, though,” you told her, an edge of despair creeping into your voice. He should’ve died. Everett Lynch should be dead, and you shouldn’t be sitting next to Spencer’s hospital bed right now. “And Spencer might die for no reason,” you added. There was a slight chance that you could, someday, find comfort in Spencer succumbing to injuries sustained in a blast that took out The Chameleon, but with Lynch still out there, you were struggling to find any glimpse of a silver lining.

Your sister looked at a loss for words, reaching out her hand and dropping it to your knee when you didn’t take it. She mumbled something about letting it go for Spencer’s sake, but Spencer was unconscious, if you held on to your grudge against your sister, he was none the wiser. It brought you back to something he had told you after Grace Lynch shot you – I don’t want you to forget your anger.

Glancing over at her briefly, you took a deep breath, “You should get back to Quantico – the team will need you to catch Lynch.”

“No,” she said, pinching her brows together, “I’m going to stay here.”

Pursing your lips, you gave her a sidelong glance, “Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you going to stay here, JJ? Do you want to stay at the hospital for my sake or for Spencer’s?” Keeping your hand tucked into his, you didn’t budge when she pulled her hand off of your knee, and even then, you had your answer. “I’m asking you to please, go back to Quantico and find Everett Lynch. Spencer will have me, his mom, and Penelope with him and I need you to find the person who did this to him. I’m asking you to go, so you aren’t staying for me.”

She was looking at you in pure disbelief, “Ducky, I don’t-“ She faltered, “I thought we were all friends again. You told me you understood where I was coming from.”

Nodding in agreement, you recalled the conversation you had with her while Spencer was with Cat Adams, “I told you I understood how you could be in love with him because I’m in love with him, but I have limits, JJ, and there comes a point where I just can’t understand why you keep using your love as a weapon.”

“I- I’m not,” she insisted, but you could hear the unease in her voice.

You shrugged, “Maybe it’s not your intention, but you are fighting a one-sided battle. You’re married and Spencer and I are engaged, and you have single-handedly destroyed our relationship.”

JJ scoffed in disbelief, “You and Spencer seem to be doing just fine.”

“I’m not talking about me and Spencer, I’m talking about me and you,” you corrected her. “At Rossi’s wedding, you told me that you had meant what you said to Spencer when you were in the pawn shop, and every day since then you have refused to give me the space that I’ve asked for.” Your hands shook as your eyes flittered between her and your fiancé, “You’re my big sister, JJ. You’re always going to be my big sister, and I am always going to love you because of that, but we aren’t friends, so don’t try to pretend you’re doing this for me.”

She tilted her head to the side, “I didn’t want space – you’re my sister.”

“But I needed space,” you emphasized, the one thing that JJ had never seemed to understand. You were the one who got hurt in the process, “I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired, and I can’t pretend to be your friend anymore while you can’t even be a decent sister. You tell me that you and Spencer have all of this history, that you’ve known each other for fifteen years, but you’ve been my sister for thirty-two. You keep asking for me to hear you out, and yet you haven’t once listened to me. Go back to Quantico, go find Lynch, and be my fucking sister.”

You couldn’t be friends with someone who had been long harboring a crush on your partner, and it didn’t make sense for you to make any exceptions for her. “Okay, I’ll um… I’ll go,” she told you, hesitating for a moment before she nodded to herself and walked out of the room. You knew what you told her stung, you were sending her out with her tail between her legs, but you didn't have the gracefulness to coddle her anymore.

Slowly, you leaned your head down, gently setting your chin on the sidebar of Spencer’s hospital bed, keeping a watchful eye on him even as tears streamed down your face.

Your eyes were dry by the time Diana arrived, being guided by one of her nurses and intercepted by Garcia, who had known better than to ask any questions when your sister left in a hurry. With your sight zeroed in on the rising and falling of Spencer’s chest, you listened to the conversation, “Oh, Diana, hi,” Penelope said, unable to hide the panic in her voice, “Hi, it’s Penelope. I work with Spencer. I’ve come to see you before,” she explained.

Garcia had tagged along multiple times to see Diana at Brookfield, which was likely why they were so receptive when she called the facility. “You’re almost as tall as I am,” Diana responded and your heart sunk, worried that she might not be stable enough to face this.

“Diana,” Penelope continued gently, “Spencer fell, and he hit his head really hard, and he’s not conscious.” Her words were carefully chosen to avoid raising any alarm.

“Well, let’s wake him up,” Diana insisted, and you straightened up at the sound of footsteps approaching, “Let’s see him.”

Penelope practically stumbled in behind her, “No, wait.”

His mother nodded, not even acknowledging you as she walked in, “He’ll listen to me… Spencer,” she called to him. Seconds later, you saw it, the moment the switch in her brain flipped and an internal war started, “it’s not him,” she murmured. “No. No, no, no,” the conviction in her voice broke your heart, “This is not my son.”

Silently, you sat back in your chair, trying to think of something you could say to her to reassure her, but you couldn’t even console yourself.

Then she reached out for his hand, turning his wrist over and exposing the inside of his wrist, the small star-shaped scar that marred his skin facing the ceiling, “Oh, my baby,” she breathed. “Oh, my baby,” she leaned over Spencer, smoothing his hair away from his forehead, cupping his face with her hands, and begging with an unknown force, “Oh, please.”

Unable to tolerate the sight of her begging for Spencer to wake up, you quietly got up from your chair, hugging your arms around yourself before walking out of the room.

For years, Diana and Spencer had been all each other had, and you couldn’t imagine what this was like for her. To have her son fighting for his life in the hospital while she spent every day trying to hold on to fleeting memories of him. You couldn’t watch her, afraid of losing him. It wasn’t supposed to work like that – parents weren’t supposed to have to bury their children.

You thought about calling your mom, knowing she’d drop everything and drive the four hours to come be with you, but maybe it would be cruel. It would be cruel to have her watch a parent lose a child when she had lost her own.

Leaning your head back against the taupe walls of the hospital, you glanced over at Penelope, giving her a stiff smile.

“Hey, you,” she said, shoving her laptop in her bag before making her way over to you. “How are you holding up?”

You laughed humorlessly, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes before looking back up at her, “I’m not entirely sure that I am.”

Her eyes were filled with grief, and you knew that she was another person in Spencer’s life who didn’t deserve more loss, “Can I get you anything? Have you eaten?”

Food had been approximately the last thing on your list of concerns today, but you hadn’t eaten since Reno yesterday. You shook your head, “I’m not hungry,” You were actually a bit queasy, but you weren’t entirely sure if you were nauseous from your current predicament or if it was because you hadn’t eaten anything. “Maybe later,” you tried to appease her.

“Okay,” she sighed, “I don’t know what happened between you and JJ, but I do know that something happened. I might not know what it’s like between sisters, but I do know what it’s like to be a sister.” Garcia gave you a soft smile, “Do you need to talk about it?”

Desperately. Your chest ached at the idea of being able to talk to someone else about what had gone down between you and your sister, but you shook your head, “I’m sworn to secrecy.”

The understanding expression on her face deepened the ache in your chest, but she reached out and pulled you into a hug, “I know the two of you will figure it out.” She pulled away, sweeping tears from under her eyes, “I know you said you’re not hungry, but I’m going to go down to the cafeteria and I’ll get you something to pick at. You look like you need it.”

You smiled at her concern and gave her a small wave as she made her way through the hallways. It was sweet that she had faith in the sororal bond between you and JJ – even more than you had, but you just didn’t see it the way she did. There had always been an expectation of you and JJ growing up that you’d always make up because you were the only sibling that each other had left.

That expectation had led to a lot of issues being swept under the rug, maybe too many issues, but you couldn’t forgive JJ, not fully. Even under the weight of the obligation to forgive her for the sake of your familial tie, you couldn’t let this one go. JJ had broken any semblance of trust between the two of you, and even if you worked to rebuild that trust, the cracks were always going to be there.

When you and Spencer had fought and you knocked a bowl off of the counter, he made a remark about how the bowl could be fixed with kintsugi, but the bowl would always have cracks, no matter how pretty the gold looked in the seams. You and JJ would never get back to where you had been, and now, you were sure that you didn’t want to go back.

Wiping a few stray tears from beneath your eyes, you nodded to yourself before walking back into the hospital room, introducing Diana and Dr. K before the doctor gave you some information, telling you that Spencer’s brain was bleeding.

Tilting your head to the side, “No, I made sure he got an MRI at the hospital. The doctor there told us it was completely clear,” you assured her, remembering how you refused to let Spencer board the jet without getting an MRI.

Dr. K nodded, “We got the scans sent over from the hospital in Reno, there’s a small bleed that was possibly overlooked. From what you’ve told me, it seems like they were overwhelmed and needed to get other people through,” she told you, making it seem like no more than a clerical error.

“So…” you dragged out the vowel, trying to wrap your head around this reality, “His brain’s been bleeding since yesterday?”

The doctor affirmed your suspicions, “Boarding a plane with even the smallest of brain bleeds can have catastrophic consequences. In Spencer’s case, it’s caused intracranial hemorrhaging. Parts of his brain are shutting down and other parts are struggling to survive.”

Your stomach flipped at the mention of his brain shutting down, the term was far too close to brain death for comfort, “Is he… is he already gone, then?” You asked, faltering over your words.

“No,” she gave you some reassurance, “There’s a chance that his brain bleed will resolve on its own.”

“But not a good chance,” you observed, taking Spencer’s hand in your own. “Is there anything that can be done?”

The doctor adjusted the tablet in her hands, “The conservative approach would be surgery. It may reduce the swelling around Spencer’s brain faster. There is risk, it could cause seizures and even more bleeding,” she explained to the both of you.

The image in your mind of brain surgery didn’t bring you any reassurance, you looked up at Diana. Until you and Spencer got married, she was his next of kin. Spencer didn’t have any kind of healthcare directive for a situation like this, and you weren’t entirely sure where to go from here.

His mom shrugged at you, shaking her head, “I thought it was Tuesday, and it’s not Tuesday. So, I can’t tell you,” she answered, looking at you helplessly.

Turning your head to Dr. K, you asked, “Could we have a minute?”

The doctor gave you both an understanding look before stepping out of the room.

“What would he want?” Diana asked you, looking at you expectantly, “I don’t want to make the decision.”

Abhorring the idea that you would be the one to make the decision, you looked up at Diana, “I’m not sure,” you admitted.

“He always says he trusts you the most,” she told you. “Oh, for years in his letters, he’d always talk about you. Even before you started dating – it was always about you in a way I’d never heard him talk about anyone,” she continued, nodding as if she were convincing herself. “If he trusts you that much, then I have no problem trusting you.”

You didn’t want it to be up to you, and before you had the opportunity to answer, the alarm on Spencer’s vital monitor started going off. “Oh my god,” You breathed, moving back to allow the nurses space as they crowded around Spencer’s bed.

“What’s happening to my boy?” Diana asked, placing her hands in front of her mouth in shock, “What is happening to him?”

Watching quietly as he seized, you listened to his mom cry out for him and decided you wanted to wait a bit longer before resorting to surgery.

Picking at the bread of the sandwich that Penelope had gotten you from the cafeteria, you found yourself more amenable to sipping at the water she had brought you than you were toward actually eating something. According to Garcia, the team was hot on Everett Lynch’s trail, but she wouldn’t give you any more details than that.

Periodically, Spencer’s hand would twitch, but you told yourself it didn’t mean anything. You tried not to get your hopes up, not until Dr. K said something reassuring.

With the doctor in the room, there were four pairs of eyes watching his every move, no matter how minuscule. You leaned back in the chair, gently tracing the lines in his palm, “His… his eyes are fluttering,” you observed aloud, not daring to look away, afraid your mind was playing tricks on you.

“That’s a good sign,” Dr. K said, leaning forward and observing the same thing as you.

Penelope inclined her head to look up at the doctor, “Is he gonna be okay?”

She looked uneasy, “He’s putting up one hell of a fight, but it’s still too early to know for sure,” she answered diplomatically, checking something on her tablet before excusing herself.

Shortly after, Garcia’s phone started to ring, she brought it out into the hallway, letting you know she’d be right back.

Leaving just you and Diana in the room with Spencer, you watched as she continued to smooth his hair back, being able to see the maternal gesture made your chest ache – you never knew how many more moments there would be. “Has he been here before?” She asked you, “In the hospital, like this?”

You nodded slowly, moving through a fog of exhaustion as the day came to an end, “Yes,” you told her, memories of Briscoe County bubbled to the surface.

“Were you there for him?” She continued, wondering if someone had been there for her baby when she couldn’t be.

You had sat around his hospital bed with Alex and Penelope, waiting for him to wake up while Penelope set up Doctor Who figurines throughout the room. “Yes,” you answered again.

“Oh,” she sighed, “How awful,” she commiserated.

While a corrupt precinct wasn’t a new concept to the BAU, that case had been particularly difficult on the team, and there had been a day, much like today, where you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to tell Spencer you loved him again.

You didn’t tell him you loved him before going to bed last night.

“It was, actually,” you remembered, previously buried memories of time spent in hospital rooms. Months ago, your roles had been reversed, and Spencer had been the one begging you to wake up.

After a moment, Diana leaned forward a bit, “Spencer,” she spoke to him, “I saw some cumuliform heaps today. His favorite clouds,” She added the last bit for you, “I plucked that for him,” she explained as Penelope came back into the room. “Everything is up there, and we pluck what we want when we want, and we let go what we don’t.”

Penelope grinned, “That sounds very good. Okay, I am plucking a memory about Spencer’s eyes, and they are brown with gold on the outside,” she posited.

Diana hummed, “I think they’re gold on the inside.”

Tantalizingly slowly, Spencer’s eyes started to open, and your heart raced as a mix of emotions flooded through you. As your eyes met him, you smiled sadly and whispered, “Gold on the inside.”

“Hey,” Garcia said, the smile plain in her voice, “we were just plucking eye memories of you.”

He returned the smiles in the room, “I heard you.” Spencer hummed, “Forgot how much I loved those clouds, mom. You helped me remember.”

Diana grinned, any remaining trace of grief wiped from her face, “I did, huh?” Well, maybe I can come back tomorrow, and we can watch clouds together,” she offered.

“Am I still dreaming?” He asked rhetorically.

“Sweetie,” she cupped his cheek with a maternal gentleness, “You are very much alive.”

Once Diana was on her way back to Brookfield and Penelope – still not providing you with any details – left to go check in with the team, you rested your head on the armrest of his hospital bed, maintaining a watchful eye on him. “I love you,” you whispered to him after Dr. K left for the night.

He hummed, tired eyes looking back at you, “You’ve said that three times in the last ten minutes.”

“And?” You inquired, furrowing your brows.

The corner of his mouth quirked up, “And I love you too.”

You smiled at him, “Thank you for having a traumatic brain injury so I could delay my stepmother’s visit.”

At that, he fully grinned up at you, “It was all part of my plan.”

A thousand words rested on the tip of your tongue, asking him how he was feeling and about healthcare directives and how he chose his favorite cloud, but everything felt so important and so inconsequential at the same time.

“You should go home,” he spoke before you had the chance to, “Get some good rest, sleep in a real bed.”

You shook your head succinctly, “I’m gonna stay here.”

He raised his eyebrows, “The nurses will keep coming in all night and wake you up,” he insisted, knowing well enough that the hospital chairs did not make for a good night’s rest.

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t have anywhere to be but here tomorrow,” you told him, thumbing the fabric of his hospital blanket as you insisted on staying.

Spencer shifted slightly on the bed, trying to get a better look at you, “You need to take care of yourself.”

His concern comforted you, but you still shook your head, “If I don’t stay here next to you, I’ll drive myself crazy. This is the best place for me.” You picked your head up, reaching out to cup his cheek and smiling to yourself when he leaned into your touch. “What’re you thinking about?”

His head lolled lazily on the pillows, brown eyes – with gold on the inside – studying your features like he was trying to make sense of something in his muddled brain, “I had a weird dream.”

Most of the time, Spencer didn’t give credit to dream analysis, so when he had dreams that he deemed inexplicable, he’d make his head spin trying to find a logical reason. “Maybe it’s a side effect of the seizure medication they put you on,” you proposed, skimming the apple of his cheek with the pad of your thumb.

Spencer didn’t look convinced, “I saw people while I was unconscious.” His attempt at explaining gave you more insight on what he was struggling with, he had a complicated relationship with the concept of the afterlife.

“Oh, yeah?” You asked softly, hoping the two of you could talk it out.

He nodded almost indeterminably, “Strauss, Foyet, Gideon,” he elaborated, opening his mouth to add another name, but he faltered when the time came.

“Your brain was looking for manifestations of guilt,” you analyzed, each of those deaths had affected him in one way or another. “Using your past traumas against you,” you continued.

He still seemed unsure, “I’m not sure that’s all of it, some of it, sure, but…”

Your chest ached at the confusion in his gaze, “Was there someone else you saw?”

He sighed, leaning his head back against the pillows and looking at the dimmed fluorescent lights of the hospital room, “A little kid. A girl,” he told you, closing his eyes as if he was trying to recall the child from his dream.

“Well,” you considered it, “If your brain was using the other three as a manifestation of guilt, maybe the little girl is a manifestation of hope. The part of your subconscious telling you to stay formed her to represent the people you can still help.”

Spencer frowned deeply, looking at you again, “I guess I assumed there was a deeper meaning to it.”

You raised your eyebrows, “What else do you think it could be?”

“I thought…” he faltered, “I’m not sure.”

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked you, already starting to walk through Dave’s house to where everyone was gathering on the patio.

You stood in the foyer, pressing your lips together as you shifted the strap of your purse over your shoulder before finally hanging it up. Looking up at Spencer, you dropped your arms to your sides, “What?”

His eyebrows furrowed in concern, “I asked if you were alright. Are you?”

Your eyes widened, “Oh, oh yeah. It’s just weird, you know? Pen leaving,” the half-truth slipped easily from your lips.

“It feels like everyone’s changing except for us,” he said, returning to you in the foyer so that the two of you could walk outside together.

“Ha,” you said humorlessly, “Right.” Penelope was leaving, having decided that Silicon Valley was too far for her, but landing a job with a nonprofit in D.C. and leaving the BAU behind. Emily was house hunting in Denver, not for a permanent move, but for something for her to share with Andrew.

You and Spencer were staying with the BAU, he wanted to split time between consulting and teaching, similar to what he had done during his sabbaticals. “Well,” he ceded, “We’re not changing much.”

The two of you emerged onto the patio hand-in-hand, being on the receiving end of welcoming smiles that had an air of relief. Everyone was still in that phase of remembering how grateful they were to have him around every time they saw him. “How ya feeling, kid?” Rossi asked, standing around the table with Krystall.

Spencer set his hand on the small of your back before responding, “Feeling great, and I’m starting back next week. Can’t let the team be down two members,” he mused, looking down at you reassuringly.

Next to you, Tara scoffed, “Oh, come on, teaching and consulting? You’re making me look bad.”

“Just doing what I love,” Spencer replied candidly.

Luke raised his champagne, “Hey, I will drink to that,”

You prepared yourself to turn down a drink, thinking up an excuse until Penelope stepped out onto the patio, “Uh, you’re not supposed to start the festivities until the belle of the ball has arrived,” she jokingly protested, giving everyone a little twirl in a very Garcia-fashion.

Leaning into Spencer slightly, the two of you watched as Luke put his hands up in defense, “Don’t worry, okay? ‘Cause this is gonna be the first of many.”

“Penelope!” Kristy called out from across the table, “Congratulations! Here I thought we were coming to celebrate Dave’s retirement, but Matt said it’s your farewell party. And you had like a hundred offers,” she said, beaming from across the table.

Garcia waved her hand in faux humility, “Oh, that’s only if you round up, but yes,” she said excitedly. “Anyway, it’s a nonprofit, it’s close to here, and the dress code is all FBI conservative like I’ve been having to do,” she said, ignoring the doubtful looks that were shared around the table.

“I’m still in denial that you’re leaving,” JJ told her mournfully, a slight frown on her face.

Matt shook his head, “It won’t be the same without you.”

“Better not be,” Penelope scolded, her tone suggesting that she found the idea ridiculous.

Emily leaned over the table to clarify for Kristy, “Dave decided he wasn’t going to retire. He didn’t want the team to go through too much of a transition all at once.”

“That’s ‘cause Dave’s never gonna actually do it,” Krystall interjected, saying what many members of the BAU had also thought.

“Hey,” Rossi protested in mock offense, “Look, being with you all, doing what few others can, that’s where I belong.” He turned to Garcia, “But this night is not about me. To our beloved Penelope – a salut.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Luke and Penelope wander off to the patio, the two of them seeking out water. You made a mental note to ask her what it was about just as Spencer approached you, “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”

You waved off his concern, making your way over to the house, hoping there were hors d’oeuvres remaining in the kitchen. “I’m fine, this is Pen’s night,” you explained to Spencer as he followed you.

“Right, that’s reassuring,” he responded sardonically, trailing close behind you through the kitchen.

Turning back to him, you pleaded, “Can you let this go? Just for now.”

Spencer frowned, “I thought we were working on our communication.”

Silently, you cursed him for bringing up your therapist’s – who was likely going to have a field day when she found out – tactics. “Spence,” you complained, hating how your voice sounded like a whine.

“Y/N,” he answered in kind.

Groaning, you looked around the kitchen before dragging Spencer into the pantry by his shirt. You flipped the light on and looked up at him, “I had my yearly physical this morning.”

He knew this, in order to remain eligible to stay in the field, everyone needed to have a yearly physical performed by an FBI physician. The concern on his face deepened, “I- Are you okay?”

“I’m pregnant,” you breathed, the words that had been balancing on your tongue for the better of the day. You wished you had been able to give him a better announcement. A card or a onesie, anything would have been better than turning Rossi’s pantry into a confessional.

Instantly, you saw the gears turning in his head as he tried to do the math, “That would mean…” he started, eyes widening as he came to different conclusions.

You nodded, “I’ve been pregnant. They couldn’t give an accurate estimate based on just the blood test and I’ve been trying to figure it out, but-“

“Eight weeks,” Spencer answered, the concern refusing to waver as he studied your appearance.

He was looking for signs and trying to remember symptoms, and you didn’t blame him. You had always assumed you’d have some idea, but you were so shocked that the FBI physician had insisted that you lay down before driving home.

The same surprise was pasted across Spencer’s face now, his hands tentatively placed on either side of your waist, thumbs hovering over your abdomen, “You were pregnant when the house blew up in Reno.” His voice solemn as he held back any excitement, “Did the doctor… is everything alright?”

“He said if anything had happened as a result of the blast, we’d know by now,” you offered some reassurance, having shared the same worry when you found out that morning. You wanted him to be happy, because once Spencer was happy about this, you could be happy.

Spencer shifted his weight, “But you made an appointment with an obstetrician, right?”

Slouching slightly, you looked up at him, “First thing Monday morning. Spencer-“

“If I had known, I never would’ve let you go to Nevada,” he interrupted, instantly protective.

“Spencer,” you startled him, “Are you happy?”

He paused and your chest ached more and more with every moment he remained silent, “Did you think that I wouldn’t be?”

You released a small sigh of relief, smiling at him sheepishly, “It’s just… it’s a surprise,” you offered quietly. “Is it awful timing?”

“No,” he insisted, pulling you in by the waist and wrapping his arms around you. He leaned his head down, tucking his face into the crook of your neck, “It’s perfect,” he reassured you. “I love you,” he whispered, voice muffled as he held you tightly – held you together.

The two of you remained that way until a knock at the door came, “Hey, uh,” Luke’s voice rang out from the other side of the door, “If you guys are doing freaky shit in Rossi’s pantry he’s gonna be pissed.”

Standing up straight, you clasped your hand over your mouth in an attempt to cover up your laugh. Spencer looked equally as amused, dropping a kiss to your lips before reaching behind you to open the door, revealing Luke and his impish grin.

He threw his hands up in the air, looking at the both of you as he walked backward out the door, “I was sent in to get you. Rumor has it they’re about to play the belle of the ball’s favorite song.”

You and Spencer shared a knowing look, “Heroes,” the both of you said in unison.

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barcaatthemoon · 17 days

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new friend || ingrid engen x child!reader ||

your meet your mom's new friend, maria.

your mom ran around the house frantically trying to tidy things up. most of your toys had to be put back in your room except for the little figures that you were actively playing with. your mom had told you that morning that she was having a friend over, someone important that she wanted you to meet. you knew that it wasn't frido or caro because she didn't get like this when they visited. this had to be a new friend, someone from your mom's new team.

"okay, i think that everything is ready," your mom said as she looked around the house. she had started something for you to eat, unsure of whether you'd like the spanish food her friend was bringing. the food was different here in a lot of ways. it had different taste, textures, and overall flavors. your mom told you that you didn't have to try everything right away, but almost every single day came a new food or snack.

"will you play with me?" you asked softly. your mom was about to sit on the couch and wait for mapi, but playing with you made her feel a lot calmer. ingrid sat with you on the floor, already knowing what game you were playing with the handful of animal figures on the floor. as much fun as you were having, your game was cut short by the knock on your door.

"maria, hi," your mother greeted. you doubted that you could have seen past your mother, so you didn't even look up from your game.

"hola ingrid," the mystery woman said. you should have expected for her to be spanish, almost everybody new was. slightly deflated, you dropped your toys, knowing that you wouldn't be able to speak with the stranger. you were good with your norweigan and german since you had been born and raised in those areas. english was still very new to you, and you hadn't even begun any of your spanish lessons yet.

"little lamb, do you want to say hello to mapi?" ingrid asked as she stepped aside. you looked up at the woman, who you thought looked a little scary. she was covered in pictures, like the bad guys in your papa and uncle's action movies. ingrid, noticing your slight discomfort, moved to scoop you up into her arms. you were a nervous child, but being in your mom's arms made you feel invincible. "she's nice, i promise. we play together at barcelona, she helps protect the goal. tonight, we're going to eat dinner together and hang out."

"like a playdate?" you asked.

"yeah, like a playdate," ingrid confirmed. you liked playdates, but all the kids here spoke spanish, so you couldn't have them anymore. sometimes, ingrid tried to arrange little trips to germany, but there hadn't been a break long enough for that yet. you missed your friends back at wolfsburg, barcelona wasn't nearly as fun for you.

you got the sense that it wasn't a playdate for you. your mom let you down, but instead of going back to your animals, you went to the coloring book on the coffee table. you had to be very careful as you colored. if you got colors on the table, you'd have to go back to the dining room table again. out of the corner of your eye, you could see your mom take maria to the kitchen.

it wasn't an overly long time that they were away from you. maria sat on the couch a little ways away from you while your mom sat right in front of you. you could smell your food, and it made your stomach growl with anticipation. it had been quite some time since she had made your special noodles for you, but since you were being brave and meeting a new person, your mom decided you had earned a plate of them.

"i need you to wash up and get your seat at the table," she said as she leaned down. you set your crayon back in the box and raced off to the bathroom. "hopefully she's a bit more chatty after dinner."

"it's good that she doesn't talk to strangers, it means she's smart," maria reasoned. ingrid had your plate set out as you came toddling back into the room carrying your booster seat. "can i sit here?"

"as long as frido isn't coming. that's frido's seat when she comes," you told maria. the spanish woman nodded as she slipped into the seat next to you. you were digging into your noodles without a care in the world as your mom returned with plates for her and mapi. "is there dessert?"

"focus on your food," ingrid told you. you huffed and pushed some of the noodles around on your plate. "(y/n), eat your pasta. you've been so excited about it all week."

"can we go out for ice cream after dinner?" you asked. there was an ice cream shop near your building that you had been begging to go in for weeks. each time, your mom brushed it off telling you that you could go later. now was definitely later to when you had asked, so there was no reason you couldn't go.

"how about this, if you can finish that plate, i'll buy you ice cream. sprinkles if you eat two." mapi placed her hand out for you to shake, and without hesitation, you shook it. ingrid looked impressed as you started eating with enthusiasm. you knew the rules about food, so you didn't go too fast. the last thing you wanted was to choke before you got to eat your ice cream.

"impressive," ingrid mouthed across the table at maria. ingrid had always been scared that you were underweight. you were an engen, and that meant you were thin and lanky. other kids seemed to hold weight better than you did, the idea of sitting and eating meals was a bit difficult for you. with maria there, you were sitting still and eating for the hope of getting an ice cream with sprinkles.

"come on, we have to play for 30 minutes before we can get dessert," you said, tugging on maria's sleeve a little. your mom started to chuckle as maria just stared at you in confusion. "come on, i'll show you how to play farms."

"lamb, english. maria doesn't speak like we do," ingrid reminded you. sighing, you tried to reiterate yourself in english, but the translation didn't come so easily. "she wants you to play farm with her while we wait for dinner to settle."

"oh, okay," maria said. she let you take her to the living room where your animals were set up. you explained it with ingrid's help and the three of you played farm together. maria wasn't very good at it, but truthfully, caro and guro were the only ones who were really good at playing farm with you.

as excited as you had been about ice cream, you ended up falling asleep on the floor while you played. ingrid tucked you into your bed and made sure to keep your nightlight on. when she came back, maria was sitting on the couch scrolling on her phone. ingrid smiled as she settled next to maria, who immediately wrapped her arm around ingrid's shoulders.

"that went very well, she likes you a lot. and i think she ate enough to sleep through the night," ingrid said. "it will take a bit of time, but i think she can handle knowing that we're dating."

"i owe her ice cream," maria said. ingrid laughed at that, not really surprised that maria was hung up on that. "do you think we could go after training tomorrow? you could bring her, then i can gloat to frido that i have a new best friend."

"and promptly get your heart broken when she runs to caro instead of you? just don't take it personally, she just met you," ingrid warned. "she likes you, but i'm pretty sure caro is her favorite over me."

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #child!reader #ingrid engen imagine #ingrid engen x reader

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justyn1 · 5 months

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The Spycrab. Why does it exist?

What is a Spycrab?

A Spycrab is an iconic animation bug for the Spy from Team Fortress 2. This bug was introduced since the game’s launch in 2007 and still exists today!

youtube

This post will cover on what causes this bug happen, how to fix it, and why it SHOULDN’T be fixed.

Debugging the Spycrab

First we need to know how do you become a Spycrab in TF2. To become a Spycrab the player have to pull out the disguise kit, crouch, look up, then start moving in any direction.

This give us a clue on what’s going on. The issue is related to looking around while crouching with the Spy’s disguise kit. We can take a look at how Valve setup the Spy’s animations since they provided the model sources in the Source SDK. Let’s take a look at spy_movement.qci since that’s where they handle all of the animations related to moving around. From this point I will refer the disguise kit as PDA since that’s what it called in the sources. Looking at the entry for Crouch_PDA and Crouch_Walk_PDA everything seems to be written correctly. Theres nothing wrong with the code itself

Line 15: $sequence Crouch_PDA PDA_crouch_idle loop alignto a_reference addlayer PDA_aimmatrix_crouch_idle activity ACT_MP_CROUCH_PDA 1

Line 424: $MPCrouchWalkWithWeapon Crouch_Walk_PDA 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 PDA_crouch_walkN PDA_crouch_walkCenter PDA_aimmatrix_crouch_idle ACT_MP_CROUCHWALK_PDA $infoNode$

This means that the issue is coming from one of the animations itself. Lets load up the PDA crouch animations in SFM and compare with the normal stand up animations.

Everything looks fine however there’s something odd with the pda_aimmatrix_crouch_idle animation. It’s in a different pose entirely! To summarize what a aim matrix do, the animator put the character in various poses mimicking that the character is looking around. The game will take those poses and blend between them depending on what direction the player is looking. Generally you don’t want to stray way from the idle pose too much since it can cause potential problems when blending between various poses at once.

With closer inspection, it seems the pda_aimmatrix_crouch_idle animation is actually an early version of the spy’s knife aim matrix animation. Here’s both aim matrices side by side.

The Fix

Now knowing that the bug is created by accidentally exporting another aim matrix animation for the wrong weapon. The fix is actually very simple! Without touching the animation files itself. We can go into the spy_movement.qci and replace any mention of pda_aimmatrix_crouch_idle with pda_aimmatrix_idle and that’s it! Compiling spy_animations.qc and loading up TF2 we will see the Spycrab no longer works.

But should this bug really be fixed?

This is the part where I tell you that the Spycrab bug should never be fixed in TF2. Even though this bug was stemmed from a mistake and it’s pretty simple to fix. This bug should never be fixed purely because it’s very important for the game’s history and community. After this bug was discovered and popularized back in 2008. It spawns plenty of memes within the community and in-game references from community cosmetics and unusuals, an official rare taunt for the disguise kit, warpaints, and a poster from the map Carnival of Carnage a Halloween reskin of Doomsday.

Hopefully this post provide some interesting insight on how this iconic bug was created and the process of debugging animations in Source Engine!

#tf2 #tf2 spy #source engine #Youtube

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qlossytbh · 2 months

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𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you were in an accident and both you and spencer are figuring out how to deal with it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 angst, typical criminal minds content, reader gets beat up, physical violence, descriptions of physical injury’s, lots of freaking out, mild panic attack, angst + comfort, established relationship

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.5k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 this fic is inspired entirely on billie’s eilish’s the 30th. haven’t been posting but i’ve got a lot of almost finished drafts and requests im getting through atm

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Sometimes, Spencer hated his limitless memory.

Because of course, it worked wonders when he had to remember important dates, or endless facts that came remarkably handy in cases. Things no one else even considers remembering. Amazing for remembering favorite things of his favorite people, or remembering things they’d previously mentioned liking.

It was amazing until it found ways to haunt him.

He remembered when Morgan pulled to a stop, glancing up at the red light in front of him. He remembered when Penelope typed away aimlessly in the back of the car, reading out a few connections she found between this particular Unsub and the third and hopefully last victim. Everything was fine.

They almost had the case figured out. Hotch had called in, (exactly twenty-three minutes ago) informing them that that you and Emily had a lead on the whereabouts of the Unsub.

He remembered the tone in Morgan’s voice when he picked up the phone. “What?”

Both him and Penelope had glanced his way absentmindedly, not really thinking much of it.

“Do they know who yet?” He had asked, taking a sudden sharp turn towards the left. The pair watched as Morgan’s face fell, and his grip on the steering wheel had tightened. He remembered the look on Penelope’s face as she quickly glanced over at him, who probably looked equally as worried, if not more. Something hadn’t been sitting right, at all— he remembered from the second the day had started something inside him was telling him that.

“What’s going on?” Penelope's voice was shaky when she set her computer down to the side. Spencer just kept his eyes on Derek, narrowing them slightly at the subtle gulp in his throat and the way he nervously looked over at him. Not Penelope, him.

“Derek—“

He remembered when he told him that you had been hurt and how he was unable to think of anything else.

He looked forward towards the road, avoiding the way his co-worker and friend sat up in his seat, straining against his seatbelt as his chest turned to face him. “I don’t know exactly what happened, Hotch just told me she was ambushed and they’re now waiting on the ambulance.”

“Ambulance?” He could’ve sworn his heart dropped into the very pits of his stomach.

Penelope covered her mouth, tears already boring into them with a soft gasp that came from her mouth. “Is she okay?”

Derek’s mouth twisted into a straight line as he opened his mouth to speak and Spencer swore he had never felt as much panic course through him.

He didn’t usually freak out, but he swore his head just stopped working right there and then. All he was able to think about was getting to you. “They don’t know—“

“Drive.” Spencer told Derek. With a firm nod and no room for complaint, he stepped on the gas pedal, signaling on the sirens as he swerved through the streets.

Six minutes and thirty five point two seconds.

That's how long it took for them to get to the scene, where two ambulances and cop cars seemed displayed around the small suburban home. He felt time move as if it were in slow motion.

The car hadn’t even come to a stop and Spencer was already stumbling throughout the door, pushing his shaky legs towards the already chaotic scene.

Unbearable noises surrounded him— people clattering and shouting about, orders being thrown around aimlessly, sirens and bypassers stopping to gasp and gaunt at the scene.

Two officers were down on the floor, covered by a simple thin white cloth and he felt the nausea settle in. Just the thought of one of them being you made his knees grow weak and the bile quickly hike its way up his throat.

Before he could rush around in attempts to find you, his eyes landed on Hotch, hunched over a moving stretcher surrounded by about three, maybe even more, medics.

It all seemed visceral. An automatic response. Soon enough his legs were pushing him towards the stretcher that made its way towards the ambulance. “Hotch—“

He turned around, and allowed just enough space to reveal your absolutely destroyed form. Your eyes kept fluttering open and close, seemingly bothered by all the noise and light. Your breathing sounded strangled, covered by the oxygen mask you had on but the sound alone was something Spencer was sure would haunt him until the day he died.

He still remembered.

Spencer felt like he had been punched in the stomach. All he could do was push one of the medics aside and hunch over you as you fought against the universe itself to regain consciousness.

“Hey,” He cooed, voice tightening and nearly breaking in a cry. He cleared his throat and blinked through his tears, smiling down at you.

You couldn’t say a single word, but you mustered enough strength to lift your pinky, grazing it against his knuckles. Your face showed a much different reaction though, furrowing your brows in what seemed to be excruciating pain.

“She’s mostly unresponsive,” The medics informed. Spencer followed them alongside Hotch, until they got to the ambulance, clicking the stretcher upwards.

“Hey, listen to me,” He whispered, ducking down so he was closer to you. “I love you, okay?”

Your small fist grabbed the fabric of his shirt, not wanting him to leave your side, but it was hurting you too much to hold on. Your fist feebly fell and the medics somehow pushed him off and you were taken into the ambulance and he really didn’t know if that was the last time he’d see you.

He watched the doors slam shut, frozen completely in his place. He remembered watching the ambulance drive away and having to stop his legs from running after it. He remembered Hotch trying to grab his attention from the disappearing ambulance.

He remembered thinking non-stop but for the first time ever, wanting to stop it and not being able to.

Something so alarming started to awaken within him and he wasn’t really sure what to do with himself.

He spent thirteen hours and sixteen minutes in the hospital that night and next morning. Hotch and the others came by in turns to keep him company in the cold empty waiting room, but he didn’t budge.

The second to stay the most was Emily, given how she was also attacked at the scene but much less severely. She ended up with a few bruises and scratches— she silently wished it had been more.

Maybe then the damage on you would’ve been less.

He remembered sitting with Morgan and the others when the doctors came in, informing him that you had gone into hypovolemic shock and they needed to perform an emergency surgery to stop the internal bleeding that was causing your vitals to plummet.

Spencer even remembered, word by word and syllable by syllable that there was a high chance that you may not even wake up from the surgery due to how much trauma your body had received.

Three broken ribs, dozens, maybe hundreds, lacerations scattered across your arms and stomach, a ruptured spleen and a concussion. That wasn’t even including all the bits of physiological trauma you now had to attack once— and if— you woke up.

Spencer seriously felt his resolve to remain calm crumple the second the medics mentioned that the Unsub used a metal pole to beat you nearly to death.

He had asked for every detail and he remembered each one and how utterly hopeless they all made him feel. He cried, because he simply didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t know how to fix it, or how to help— he wasn’t even sure he could.

Because what if he had been there instead of Emily? What if he was able to stop it? What if more backup was sent in, what if when you had told him you felt off this morning when going into work he’d tell you to stay put and rest it off? What would’ve happened then?

What if he would’ve gone with Emily instead of you, what if you were actually lifeless when they had found you? What if you didn’t wake up? What if this meant he’d never get to hold you for a last time, and had to stick with the memory of seeing you bloody and bruised. What if you never actually—

“Reid,” Spencer looked up from his palms, which holstered themselves on his knees by his elbows. Emily smiled at him meekly. “She’s awake,”

Spencer looked around, blinking heavily and realizing he was in the same cold hospital waiting room he’s been in for the past day and a half.

He opened his mouth to speak, but realized it was incredibly dry. Too dry. He cleared out his throat with a firm cough and nodded, standing up feebly.

They walked down the quiet hallway, something so heavy hanging in the air. Just the patterning of his shoes and Emily’s heels bouncing off the walls along with the shuffling of their clothes. Spencer swore he wouldn’t be okay until he saw you but even then he didn’t think he’d be okay. How was any of this going to be okay?

Emily led him to a door and when they pushed it open, you were staring at the wall, seemingly in some kind of deep whirlwind of thoughts. A small knock offered by Emily caught your attention. You turned your head to the side, probably expecting another endless round of nurses. But to your surprise, there stood the one person you’d been wanting to see after this whole ordeal.

A broad yet tired smile made its way onto your face while laying back into the pillows. Spencer took you in, letting out a shaky breath. Your hair was disheveled, and your eyes looked tired. Soft and welcoming but hiding something so much deeper underneath that he’d have to be an idiot to not notice it.

There was a stitch on your forehead and the lash line of one of your eyes protruded a growing dark purple bruise. There were machines and cables and needles stuck beside and into you. And the more Spencer noticed, the more he wished he hadn’t.

“Hey,” Your voice was raspier than usual, small and steady, Spencer noticed this.

But then you smiled just like you used to before the accident and he couldn’t have found you any more beautiful.

“Hey,” He finally answered, walking up to the side of your bed. “How— How are you feeling?”

“I’ll give you guys some privacy.” Emily said, slipping past the door and leaving the two of you to your own accord.

“I’m okay,” You whispered, sounding so small and frail it nearly broke any ounce of self control he was mustering to avoid breaking into tears. “The pain meds are helping a bit,”

He gave you a silent understanding nod. His hand held onto the railing of your bed, not entirely knowing what to say or how to act. You watched him intently, noticing how he couldn’t really bring himself to look at you.

“Do you remember anything?” You turned to stare at the wall, trying to recall anything about the attack, but you unfortunately— some would argue fortunately— didn’t.

You shifted in your bed, scrunching your face in pain in the process, which Spencer noticed. Again. Of course he did.

Spencer looked down at you, dangerously entering territory where the back of his eyes burned, and his own mind bit at him, and he just didn’t know what to do with all the huge feelings that swarmed around inside him.

“Not really,” You muttered, scrunching your nose with a small huff. Spencer reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and letting his hand cup the side of your cheek.

“You really scared me,” You leaned into the touch of his palm.

“I’m sorry,” He shook his head before he even spoke, blinking rapidly to prevent any tears from falling.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I almost died,”

Okay, they were starting there. Great.

You had said it in barely above a whisper, staring at your lap and preventing Spencer from getting a look in your eyes. Your lips tugged into a frown. And Spencer said your name, trying to catch your attention.

Suddenly it all hit you. The gravity of it all. It came in stronger than a tidal wave, than a slap you didn’t even see coming. You felt the burning in your ribs, the rips and tears in your skin, the slight swell of your eye, the rattling of your own skull.

Spencer pulled out a chair and sat on it to level himself to your height. He reached out a hand and laced his fingers with yours.

It felt hard to breathe.

More silence.

“You okay?” You sucked in a sharp breath that came out as a little squeak, and suddenly you wanted to cry. Because you were tired of feeling so broken and feeling how every inch of your body hurt.

You shook your head and as soon as you did, a broken sob left your mouth. Your hands flew up quickly, attempting to hide the broken fragments of your gaze. Spencer heard every shard of the glass his heart had been made of around you shatter. He sat up, attempting to hold you from the side in any way he could, letting you cry out all the trauma you received in the past two days.

And you did cry it out, and your ribs burned, your head was pounding and you felt every ache and bruise in your body worsen. Seeing you like this hurt him more than any pain that had ever been inflicted on him.

Spencer pulled away from you once you had calmed down enough and brought one hand to the side of your face, leisurely dragging his thumb against your cheek bone and anywhere any stray tears fell.

“Dang it,” You sniffled, bringing the back of your palm up and rubbing your nose. “This is not how I wanted you to see me after my mini coma,”

Spencer knew you couldn’t keep serious for more than fifteen minutes at a time even if your life depended on it. He’d let you stall the situation this time however. He knows the two of you needed it.

“You look so pretty,” You smiled at his words, looking at him with so much gratitude and leaning into his palm, trying to find refuge in it.

“I bet I do,” You narrowed your eyes at him and he leaned forward pressing a kiss to your lips. You grabbed the wrist of the hand that held your face while he kissed you and gave it a small squeeze, hopefully letting him know how much you cared and appreciated him.

He pulled away, sitting back into the chair but intertwining his fingers with yours, reminding himself to always drag his fingers comfortingly across your knuckles and allow you to know he wasn’t ever leaving your side again.

“They had to change my IV needle,” You decided to stall for a bit. “The vein on my right arm wasn’t doing the job.”

“Really?” He knew that wasn’t entirely possible and that the doctors probably did an ass job at inserting it there in the first place, but he let you wonder on. “How’d that feel?”

“Im afraid of needles, but!-“ You shuffled a little bit around on your pillow for more comfort, huffing proudly. “I squeezed my eyes and tried thinking back on that book that talks about marxist criticism you read to me last week,”

He smiled warmly, bringing your hand over to him and kissing your wrist. “My brave girl,”

You let out a laugh, and he knew then he’d sleep a little better that night. He always did when you were by him.

“Hey Spence,”

“Yeah?”

“Can you stay?” You asked earnestly.

Spencer squeezed your hand. “Your pain meds are hitting you stronger than you thought if you think for a second that i’m leaving your side,”

You smiled. “I’m not going anywhere angel, I promise.”

The two of you basked in each other's silence. You closed your eyes and tried to alleviate the burning in your lungs as your breath shaked from the crying. Spencer just watched you, appreciating a while longer the small freckles and marks across your face.

“Spence,” He hummed, “I’m scared.”

He sighed heavily. Suddenly realizing that this wasn’t something easy to come. And he was too, because he almost lost the love of his life and he didn’t know what that information would do to him, much less to you.

For the first time, Spencer was out of smart answers and reasons why this would all be okay. It was hard for him to think he’d never feel this scared of loosing you again, and that idea haunted him.

“So am I,”

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rin-may-1103 · 4 months

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The Wrong Robin Au (part five)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Danny sat back with a wince, watching as Bruce and his butler (The man introduced himself as Alfred) collected themselves. Jason's book was now sitting on a shelf, displayed for everyone to see. Bruce's desk was moved back into place, and the chairs were repositioned. There wasn't any evidence of what had just occurred.

"would you like me to get you a rag, young sir?" Alfred asked, turning to glance at Danny with a raised brow.

Danny lifted his hand and gently touched his nose, hissing when it stung and throbbed. Pulling his hand back, Danny found his fingers covered in blood.

Well, that was going to be hard to explain later...

"yeah, thanks." Danny finally agreed, moving his hand back to hopefully keep more of his blood from staining his hoodie. His ectoplasm was just begging him to heal it, but he held back, watching as Bruce turned to face him.

The man was no longer crying his little emo furry heart out or blinded with rage. Instead, he was standing still with a calculative gleam in his eyes. Danny just knew the man was going to do a background check as soon as Danny left. (Or when Danny wasn't paying attention, he was Batman after all. Who knows what he was going to do?)

It's a good thing there was nothing that connected him with Phantom. Besides the drop in grades and convenient absences, but that can be excused by the trauma of his accident and all the ghost fights. Otherwise, Danny would be screwed.

No one besides Jazz and Wes has been able to figure it out, and he'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. He's retired now, or well, was retired. He might be getting back into the crime-fighting part again, but he was going to do everything in his power to keep from getting pulled back into ghost-fighting and dealing with the occult every day.

He could handle following Batman around at night and punching a few goons here and there, but the ghost fights? The world ending catastrophes? The annoying cult summoning? He didn't think he could handle it again. And sure, if there was no other option he would go out and protect the world. (It would be very shitty of him not to if he could do something when no one else could. He lived here too, you know.)

But that's not his job anymore. No, that's what the Justice League is for. (was for... He had forgiven them for not being there for him when it mattered. They were here now. So it was fine. No, it wasn't) They're the ones who are protecting Earth now. They're the ones who have to drop everything and help save the world. Not him. Not anymore.

Maybe he could think of this as a really shitty vacation? Then once he's sure Batman is stable and that Tim won't do something stupid, Danny could go back to Amity and figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Maybe he could even go to college?

"Why are you here?" Bruce asked, his calculated eyes still boring into Danny's head. Danny, having gotten used to ghosts popping up and speaking to him at all hours of the day, didn't flinch as he glanced back up at Bruce.

"To keep you from killing yourself, seriously dude. Did you not hear when I told you earlier?" Danny spat, pointedly wiping the blood off his chin.

Bruce barely even moved, but Danny could tell he had winced. Sensing people's emotions was going to become one of the more useful powers he had, wasn't it?

...

How long was his nose going to bleed, again? Didn't broken noses stop bleeding after a few minutes?

His core flared in annoyance, finally making him remember a very important fact.

He was half dead. As in his body doesn't heal or change without the influence of his ectoplasm. This means he's going to keep bleeding until he either doesn't have any blood to bleed or he lets his ectoplasm heal it.

Great.

That's not going to make Bruce suspicious at all. Nope. Definitely not.

Focusing on his nose, Danny let his ectoplasm rush to the area and start healing it, but held it back before it could do more than stop the bleeding.

Alfred entered the room not even a second later, "here you go, young sir. Just hold it there for a minute while I prepare my med kit."

Danny grabbed the rag handed to him and pressed it to his nose, ignoring the sharp pain. He watched as Alfred placed his med kit on the side table and started digging through it. After a few minutes, Alfred leaned back and pulled on some gloves.

"let me have a look," he demanded, turning to kneel in front of Danny. Danny sighed, removed the rag, and leaned forward to let Alfred get a closer look. The man clicked his tongue, but gently grabbed his face and studied the injury.

Bruce shuffled awkwardly in the background, looking like a child waiting to get scolded. Good. He was a grown-ass man for crying out loud, he should get scolded for breaking Danny's nose.

"Alright, this will hurt," Alfred said, moving his hands to gently rest next to Danny's nose. Danny, having dealt with many broken noses before, looked away from the older man and stared Bruce dead in the eyes.

With sure but quick movements, Alfred straightened his nose with a loud crunch. Bruce's eyes narrowed as Danny bit his tongue, keeping any other sign of pain to himself.

"There," Alfred sighed, "it was a clean break, so you'll only have to keep some gause on it until you go to the doctor. Master Bruce?"

Bruce grunted, before finally looking over to his butler. "I'm fine, Alfred."

"good," Alfred nodded, "then I shall put on some tea. In the meantime, I recommend you two have a civil conversation."

Danny leaned back, taking the wet rag Alfred handed to him, and cleaned his face. Now that his nose looked normal, Danny allowed his ectoplasm to start healing it. He didn't plan on seeing Bruce again anytime soon, so any bruises or swelling he should have, won't matter.

Alfred finished placing his medical supplies away and held his hand out for the rags, once Danny gave them to him, the man swiftly left the room. bruce will probably want to test his blood later now that Danny thinks about it. Well, that's definitely something Batman would do, Danny thinks.

Oh well, it's not like his blood would reveal anything. It's literally just his human blood. Now if he was bleeding as Phantom? This would be a whole other problem.

"Who are you and how do you know who I am?" Bruce grunts, stepping closer to Danny in an attempt to be intimidating. And it would have been if Danny hadn't just watched the man breakdown ugly crying not even thirty minutes ago.

Rolling his eyes, Danny leaned back in his chair and huffed, "I told you this already. My name's Danny. I'm here to keep you from killing yourself. And it's pretty obvious who you are if you just think about it." Because it was obvious. Once Tim pointed it out to him, that is.

He wasn't about to just tell Batman that though, Tim didn't deserve to have the man breathing down his neck just for being smart enough to figure it out.

Before Bruce could respond, Danny's phone rang once, twice, then stopped. Glancing at the clock, Danny found it was only six. This meant, it was either Sam texting him to figure out where he was (which wasn't likely, since he usually disappeared in the mornings) or it was Tim.

Grabbing his phone, Danny unlocked it and was met with a message from Tim.

TIM: thanks for listening to me.

Before Danny could send a response, another text came through.

TIM: when did you want to meet up and discuss a plan? DANNY: tomorrow, after you get some sleep. TIM: I did! I took a nap! DANNY: not a long one. TIM: I'm not tired though! DANNY: Then pretend to sleep or something, I don't care. Could you just make sure you sleep before I text you tomorrow? please, kid? TIM: whatever. you're not even that much older than me, you know that right? Danny: sure kid.

"Who is that?" Bruce suddenly asks, making Danny glance up at him.

Shit, uh... "The kid I'm babysitting later."

You know what? That works. And it's technically true.

Bruce just hummed, allowing Danny to turn back to his phone.

TIM: I'm thirteen! DANNY: Yeah? Well, I'm seventeen, almost eighteen. Anyone under the age of fifteen is a literal baby. which makes you? that's right. a child. and what do children need? Sleep. They need sleep, Tim. TIM: I'm not a child! and if you've forgotten; I still have all the evidence proving that you're Robin. I'm petty enough to release it. DANNY: Go ahead. If it'll make you sleep at night.

Tim left him on read after not responding for a few minutes. Bruce had wandered over to his desk to work on something, probably Danny's background check.

Sighing, Danny sent a text to Sam letting her know he'd be busy for the rest of the morning and to let Tucker know. Once that was done, he shoved his phone into his pocket and stood up. Bruce glanced at him for a moment before going back to what he was doing, leaving Danny to look around the office.

Pictures were hanging on the wall, books covering the shelves, and random objects covering everything else. Basically, Bruce's office was filled with all sorts of things. Things that could give Danny an idea of who Bruce was as a person. Something he was going to need to know if he planned to stick around and help him. which he was. because he'd promised Tim that he would.

Reaching out, Danny picked up one of the photos and examined it. It was Bruce, Alfred, and some boy Danny didn't recognize, though they looked eerily like him. They could even pass as his clone if you squinted.

"Hey, Bruce," Danny started, "Who's this?"

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hotpinkstars · 6 months

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LAZY MORNINGS - aventurine x reader

- your husband gets a call early in the morning, kicking a start to your day. but instead of him going into work, he stays in your arms.

- hellooo everyone! i'm back and i changed my theme up a little bit. thank you to all of the condolences i received, it made me smile and also made me happy :) but i feel ready enough to write once again, and i've been having aventurine brainrot...... hm... also my bad if this is really ooc i've read most of the penacony story and have payed extra to aventurines parts (i can also write ratio for all you ratio simps who want more food..) but my brain is wired weird so.... i fuck some things up anyways enjoy!!!!!!!!!

- no warnings, wc 528

You wake up, and immediately check the clock on the side of your nightstand. It reads 5:30 am.

You rub your eyes, scanning the room before your eyes land on your husband, Aventurine, who's got one hand in his hair and the other holding his phone up to his ear.

He was a beautiful sight; his eyes half open, hair messy, and pajamas in a bundle with one button keeping it on his torso. You lay a hand on the naked part of his chest, letting him know you were awake. He looks down at you, shooting you a soft smile before speaking into his phone.

“...Alright, I understand,” He said, his tone laced with irritation and sleepiness. “Lets schedule the interview for today.”

You sighed, replacing your hand with your head, trying to go back to sleep. You pull the silk sheets over your ear, everything below your eyes covered by the warm covers. Aventurine wraps an arm around your body, hanging up on the man who called to inform him of what you assumed was something important, and put his phone down next to him.

“Sorry if I woke you, sweetheart,” He sighs, wrapping his other arm around your torso. You nuzzle into him, eyes closed. You mumble something incoherent, and he chuckles. “Someones tired this morning.”

You nod, and he kisses the top of your head. “Do you have to leave early this morning?”

“Nope, not today. They wanted me to, but I'll just say I didn’t feel well enough to get out of bed. I don’t miss work too often, so they won't bat too much of an eye, hopefully."

You giggle a bit, snuggling even deeper into his chest, his heartbeat audible. It comforted you, it always does, and you could’ve fallen asleep right away if it weren’t for his voice keeping you conscious.

“I wish I could bring you to work with me, but unfortunately I can’t. I have to work with Ratio again today,” he groans, putting a hand up to his forehead. “I’d rather spare you of the nuisance he is.”

You laugh once more. “I bet he’s not that bad. You just make him sound like a geek, that’s all.”

“He’s much more than that. Much more insufferable.”

“I doubt it.”

You both laugh before simply holding each other. It seemed like it was only the two of you on this planet; the sounds of birds chirping brought a harmonious feeling, and it was as if none of your worries were able to break through your bedroom door and haunt you.

You tried to stay awake with your husband, considering he was probably up for the day due to the ever so rude interruption at such an early time in the morning. He was used to waking at this time, so he would’ve likely been up soon anyway. You, on the other hand, usually wake up when he’s long gone for the day, so it’s just natural to want to sleep a little longer.

“Fall back asleep, babe,” he pressed a tiny peck to the top of your head, burying his nose in your soft locks. “I’ll be here when you wake back up.”

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine #kakavasha #aventurine x reader #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #kakavasha x reader

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thebenjiblackwoodexpress · 2 months

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Devil's Snare part.3

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Description: Aemond tests his handmaiden's resolve not to fall in love with him and might just be rewarded for his efforts. But rumours surrounding the dismissal of Aemond's previous handmaiden threaten to derail their budding romance.

Previous part

Writer's note: Thank you so so much to everyone who follows this story. Your comments genuinely make my day 🥺. Aware Aemond has been fighting for his life to get Y/N to love him at an absolutely glacial pace...hopefully this will make up for the slow-burn thus far ;) Also I got carried away so there will definitely be a part 4 if everyone still cares for it.

Warnings: female reader, slight mention of blood/injury detail, slight angst, Aemond has some anger issues, mention of Granny Vhagar, potentially ooc Aemond (though I stand by him being a total sweetheart with the person he loves), so long it's not even funny anymore.

Y/N felt a headache coming on, though she could not tell whether it was from contending with her conflicting feelings for Prince Aemond or if she was coming down with an illness.

Of late, the Prince had become bolder and always seemed to be touching her or inhabiting her space in some small way, as if tethered to her by some string she could not see. Although he never crossed the boundaries of what was appropriate and seemed to always be watching for her response. His hand would graze the small of her back as he reached round her to take a book from his shelves or his fingers would brush against hers as she handed him a goblet of wine. Before, he had always sat across from her in his favoured chair when she came to him with questions of what she was reading with Helaena, or he simply asked her to sit and talk with him. Now he had begun to sit beside her on a chaise, close enough that their arms and thighs pressed together and his knee brushed against hers as he turned towards her to speak.

Only the other day, when the Princess had beckoned him over to look at Y/N's needlepoint on a dress she was mending for Helaena, he had positioned himself right behind her seat, one arm falling upon the arm rest, and leaned over her shoulder close enough for her to feel the reverberation of his chest as he spoke, sending her heart racing. "I am blessed to have a handmaiden that is both pretty and skilled in equal measure, sister." She rarely felt his eye stray from her when they were together in his chambers or Helaena's, and felt his gaze even as they crossed paths in the halls of the Keep during the day.

There were few periods of silence between them as from the moment she entered his chambers, Aemond would be asking her all sorts of questions about herself and about her day. Nothing was too insignificant for he seemed to want to know everything. And so she found herself complaining to him of his brother Aegon's new manservant who had begun to develop airs and graces, ordering the handmaidens about, much to her chagrin. Realising Aemond had been silent for a long time, Y/N began to feel slightly self-conscious she'd been boring him.

"I apologise, my prince. I'm wittering on about nothing."

She turned from him, feigning organising the items on his desk though she had already rearranged them earlier that day. She heard his soft tread approaching her before his hand covered one of hers to stop her movements. "Everything you have to say is important to me." His hand wrapped more fully around her own as he brought their joint hands towards him. Y/N knew she should pull away, that she shouldn't accept such intimate touches from the Prince, but she couldn't bring herself to do so, her own feelings for him having spread like wildfire despite her best intentions. Aemond graced her with a conspiratorial grin, leaning down to chase her eyes as they nervously flitted from him to the tapestries over his shoulder. "Would you like me to dispatch him for you?"

Y/N snorted at his jest and immediately covered her mouth with her free hand, embarassed that the sound had escaped her in front of the Prince. Aemond only chuckled and pulled her hand from her mouth so he had both gripped in between them. "Pease do not try to suppress your laughter around me, little one. I am gladdened to have been the cause of such a sweet sound." Y/N was certain she was blushing furiously at the Prince's attentions. Seeming to sense that his handmaiden was feeling overwhelmed, Aemond gently squeezed her hands before releasing her, only to raise his hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. "I hope to see you in the morning, Y/N, before I leave to train. That will be all for this evening." Y/N only nodded at the Prince, slightly dazed by his tender touch as she gazed at his handsome features. She found herself wanting to trace the contours of his face with her hand, to run her fingers along his cheekbone. Aemond's smile only grew in response, prompting Y/N to inwardly shake herself and turn to leave. When she reached the door she chanced a glance back to find him still watching her as if expecting her to turn back to him. His knowing smirk had her quickly flipping back round to exit his chambers.

As the morning sun cast a warm glow upon the Red Keep and its inhabitants began to waken, Aemond awaited the arrival of his lovely handmaiden to see him off before he left for the training yard. He was satisfied with the progress he had made to endear Y/N to him. Since he'd realised she at least harboured some attraction for him, he'd continuously tried to test the waters of her feelings, hoping with time their currents should strengthen into something more substantial, that she would come to reciprocate his love for her. He did not wish to make Y/N uncomfortable, ever aware of her shyness, or for her to feel duty bound to accept his touch. So he analysed her reactions carefully each time he initiated any physical contact with her or paid her compliments. Every time she simply blushed as he purposefully brushed his arm against hers, instead of shifting away from him, a gratified smile would ghost onto his face. Her reactions renewed him with confidence, assuring him that his attentions were not unwanted, his pursuit of her not without hope.

Looking up with a smile as the door to his chambers opened, his face fell as a different handmaiden entered than the one his heart yearned for. A heavy feeling of dread came over him almost immediately. Had something happened to Y/N. Was she unwell? Had she been mysteriously dismissed as his previous handmaiden had been? When the new handmaiden could not provide him with an explanation of Y/N's absence, he stormed from the room in the hopes that his sister Helaena might have knowledge of Y/N's whereabouts.

"Do you know where Y/N is? She did not attend to her duties this morning."

Helaena looked up from the tapestry she was sewing, alarmed by the abruptness of her brother's arrival and the slightly demanding tone of his questioning. "She complained of a headache yesterday and I sent her back to the servant's quarters to rest when she felt well enough to stand. Mayhaps it still ails her."

Aemond felt his chest constrict with worry and his voice came out quieter than he would have liked at his fears having been realised. "She is unwell? Should I go to her, ensure she is comfortable and being cared for?"

Helaena rose to take his hand "Most assuredly not, brother. It would only raise unwanted questions from the household staff and Y/N should be left to rest. Perhaps send her a token of your affectation instead, do you know which flowers she favours?"

Aemond nodded at her suggestion, his sister was wise and he trusted her judgement, though he knew others were quick to ignore her. "Of course, she has expressed a preference for bluebells."

Helaena's eyes glazed over as she considered this and Aemond patiently waited for her to share what she was thinking. "I believe you can find some on the eastern side of the Blackwater. I spotted them while flying overhead with Dreamfyre."

Aemond swiftly raised his sister's hand to his lips.

"Thank you, sister. I will ride out with Vhagar hence."

At the scratchy feel of her throat that had swiftly accompanied her headache, and the nausea that washed over Y/N in Helaena's room, she realised she was in fact ill. Awaking the next morning, she felt even worse than she had the day before, finding it difficult to move her head without pain and she groaned quietly as she rose from her bed to prepare for the day. It took her one attempt to stand to realise she would not be able to work that day, as a wave of dizziness sent the room spinning and she fell ungracefully back onto her bed.

"You look terrible. Are you sick?"

Y/N raised her head just enough to look at her friend Celeste.

"I feel terrible too. Can you ask the matron to find a replacement handmaiden for me today?"

Celeste nodded before grinning at Y/N. "Oh but how will Prince Aemond do without his favourite handmaiden?"

"I don't know what you mean" Y/N rolled her eyes at her friend, causing her to scoff.

"Don't give me that. I've seen the way he looks at you when we pass him in the halls." Y/N blinked in surprise that anyone else had noticed Aemond's regard for her, that it was not just a figment of her wishful thinking.

"How does he look at me?"

"Y/N, he only looks at you. I rarely see him cast his gaze elsewhere."

Y/N suddenly felt grateful for her fever, as she was able to use it as an excuse for her flushed cheeks.

A light tap against the door of her shared room woke Y/N in the late afternoon. Pulling herself up, though her limbs felt heavy as lead, she opened the door to be met by a young squire holding a large bouquet of bluebells.

"Prince Aemond wished these to be delivered to you."

Carefully taking the flowers from the squire and thanking him, she shut the door. Leaning down to smell the fragrant perfume of her flowers, Y/N smiled at the Prince's thoughtfulness and care for her.

Aemond felt sick with worry, he'd not heard any news of Y/N for days and he was beginning to think he'd have to fall back back on his original plan to go down to the servant's quarters and check on Y/N himself. The soft click of his chamber door opening had his head snapping up as it did everytime, just in case it was Y/N. His heart soared at the sight of the very object of his thoughts on the threshold. Aemond strode up to her, taking her smaller hand in both of his, his expression one of gentle concern.

"Have you been very unwell?"

His handmaiden looked somewhat bashful under his steady gaze, but he found he could not look away, even to save her from embarrassment. His eye flitted rapidly over her face to memorise her features oncemore, not having seen her in several days.

"I am well now, I apologise for my absence." Y/N titled her head up to smile softly at him, causing his heart to stutter. "I must thank you for the flowers you sent. They were beautiful and brightened my day."

Aemond squeezed her hand gently in response, his heart gladdened that his gift had been so well received. He leant down to whisper teasingly in her ear.

"I will gladly bring you as many flowers as should please you if you will only smile at me so prettily."

Aemond chuckled at the look of shock on his handmaiden's face, releasing her from his hold and grabbing his sword, giving her a chance to collect herself. "I am headed to meet with Ser Criston, but I hope to continue our conversation later."

Aemond paid no mind to the audience that had gathered as he continued to parry every blow that Ser Criston levelled at him. His concentration was broken, however, when he spotted his handmaiden in his peripheral vision walking through the training yard, basket in hand. He noted that she had stopped to watch and threw himself into the duel with greater fervour, wishing to impress her. In a brief moment of distraction, as he redirected his attention back to Y/N to gauge her reaction to his swordsmanship, Criston's sword nicked his torso. Aemond hissed in pain, looking down to see blood beginning to spread across his tunic, though he did not think it could be deep. Criston lowered his sword immediately, panicked at having actually injured Aemond, who he'd come to see almost like a son. He had expected him to block his blow easily, not having counted on the Prince's distraction.

Y/N ran to Prince Aemond's chambers, tripping over her skirts in her haste. She'd heard of his injury in the training yard and could barely contain her concern as news of it flew about the Keep. She felt a flash of embarrassment as she remembered how she'd stopped to watch Prince Aemond duel with Ser Criston, impressed by his skill as he seemed to dance around his opponent. Though she'd left before he had been injured and needed to confirm for herself that he was not badly harmed. Flinging open the door without knocking, she burst into the room panting for breath. "My Prince, are you..."

The rest of Y/N's words got away from her as her eyes fell upon the Prince in question sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless. She cast her eyes over the Prince's bandaged chest and torso, looking for his injury, but realised she'd been staring for far longer than was appropriate and quickly looked back up at his face to find him smirking at her. He could not be so gravely injured if he was still able to manage that, Y/N thought, embarassed by her own wandering eyes.

"Come here, Y/N."

Aemond's voice pulled Y/N towards him without her ever realising she'd been moving, although she stopped at a respectable distance away from him.

"Closer Y/N, I will not bite."

Y/N grew immediately suspicious of the mirth in the Prince's good eye and his teasing tone, but she took the final few tentative steps until she was positioned directly in front of him.

Aemond positively grinned up at her. "You are welcome to look."

Y/n's mouth fell open in shock at his meaning and she was certain she must look like a fish with her gawking. The Prince gave her no time to refute his allegation of staring, though in truth she had been. She could not deny even to herself that she found him beautiful.

"It is your fault after all." This startled her. How could he blame her for his injury? She had not swung the sword at him.

"My fault? What can you mean, My Prince?"

"I was merely distracted by your beauty, a stroke of luck for Ser Criston who could not have bested me otherwise."

Y/N took the time to swallow thickly, feeling slightly dizzy.

"You should not say such things, it is inappropriate. You are a Prince and I am a servant girl."

Aemond surveyed her for a moment, his eye trained on her face as he looked up at her.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

Y/N knew she should tell Aemond that yes, it did make her uncomfortable, pretend she didn't feel anything for him. That would have been the sensible thing to do. But she could not bring herself to lie anymore. Not when he was looking at her as if she placed the moon and the stars in the sky each night. Rather, as if she were both the moon and the stars for him.

"No."

"Then I do not care."

Aemond snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her towards him so abruptly that their knees knocked together and her hands fell onto his bare shoulders to steady herself. When he received no objection from the lady, Aemond wrapped his other arm around Y/N and pulled her down onto his lap. Tilting his head down, his nose grazing against her collarbone, he spoke against her skin.

"I always want you this close."

The door opened abruptly as the maestor entered the threshold. Y/N rose quickly, practically ripping herself from Aemond's arms, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the position he'd found her in with the Prince. Head down to avoid seeing the judgement in the maestor's eyes, she sped past him without looking back. Though she still heard Aemond angrily shouting at the maestor for "scaring her" as she strode down the hall and an involuntary smile rose on her face.

Y/N tried to clear her thoughts of Aemond, but the terrible rumour she'd just been made privy to by Helaena's maid sent all of the feelings she'd tried so hard to repress bubbling back up to the surface. She had just begun to give into his pursuit of her only to find out he had pursued his previous handmaiden in the same manner, leaving her with child and dismissed from the household staff, so the rumours went. In hindsight, she'd been foolish to believe the Prince could ever truly care for her, feel anything deeper for her than mere attraction. Perhaps it was the chase itself he valued and she felt an uncharacteristic rage rise within her at such callousness.

Brusquely entering the Prince's chambers, she ignored the way his eyes lit up at the sight of her and the way he rose to greet her from where he'd been reading. She pretended not to notice, side stepping him with a simple "Good evening, My Prince", to begin lighting candles, the light of the day having waned. Aemond caught her wrist, stopping her in her movements, and gently turned her towards him.

"Has something happened? Have I done something to displease you for you to act so distant?" He raised his hand to brush some hair out of her eyes but Y/N recoiled from his touch, side stepping him again.

"I do not wish you to touch me. I have been made aware of your last handmaiden's fate and do not seek to follow her."

Aemond's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his jaw clenching. "I do not know of what you speak, Y/N."

Y/N heard her own anger and sense of betrayal seeping into her biting retort. "Would you so soon forget her? Did she not bear your child. Was she not promptly dismissed by the Queen for it?"

As her words registered, Aemond's face blazed with indignation and he spoke through gritted teeth.

"You think me such a villain? That I would be capable of such depravity?"

"I do not pretend to know the ways of a Prince."

Aemond's voice was colder than she had ever heard it, though tinged by a note of insecurity. "I never did such a thing. Indeed, I have no idea as to why my mother dismissed the handmaiden, only that it was not of my own doing."

Y/N searched his face for the truth of his denial, but she could not find it within herself to believe the Prince could want her when he could have a noble lady or a princess if he wished. And she could not shake her suspicions as a result.

"It does not make sense for you to have behaved as you have towards me. What possible other reason could you have for pursuing a lowly servant girl?"

"So this is what you think of me? That I am a monster who preys on the hearts of young maidens only to ruin them?"

Y/N startled at the unbridled rage on the Prince's face. When Aemond's fist swung out and connected with the nearby cabinet Y/N shrieked and turned her head to the side, bracing for a blow that never came. A few moments of silence passed before she dared to look up. Aemond was looking at her with his mouth parted in shock as if she had struck him instead. "Did you think I would strike you?" His voice came out softer now, though this did no good to calm her nerves, which were still on high alert. She tried to brush away the tears that were rapidly forming and causing her vision to blur, not wanting to feel any more vulnerable than she already did. At the sight of her tears, Aemond took a step towards her, his arms held out as if to comfort her. "Please don't cry my love, I would never harm you." She took a frantic step away from him, cowering against the wall closest to the door. A look of acute pain fell across Aemond's face and he halted where he stood, arms falling back down to his side. She could see his fingers twitch slightly, as if it was only with a concerted effort that he was able to stay where he stood instead of going to her. Y/N hated the note of hysteria that laced her voice as she breathlessly gasped out her next words. "Can I leave?"

Aemond's head fell and she heard him take a sharp intake of breath before looking back into her eyes. His movements slow and considered, he opened the door for her and stepped aside to let her pass, though she heard a slight tremble in his voice. "I would never keep you here against your will." Y/N judged that he was telling the truth from the sincerity in his eye and all but ran from his chambers.

When Y/N entered his chambers the next morning, Aemond tried to apprehend her to apologise, to ask for her forgiveness. He had felt so hurt, so angry that there was a possibility Y/N should think of him as negatively as others seemed to, when he valued her opinion of him above all others. He'd purposefully made himself a formidable warrior, someone to be feared and respected, in response to the indignities and abuse he faced as a child. But he had never wanted Y/N to be afraid of him. He had only spoken her name before she rushed out "I only came to make my survey of the room and take the empty goblets, My Prince." Aemond was silenced by the trace of panic in her voice, how she should feel so afraid that she flew about the room to complete her duties and be free of him as soon as possible.

The following day Aemond had looked up hopefully at the sound of his door to see another maid entirely enter his chambers. On the third evening, Aemond did not expect to see Y/N, beginning to fear she might never feel comfortable to seek him out again. He resolved that if another day passed he would have to storm down to the servant's quarters to apologise to her if she would not come to him. It had been torture to be without her, so accustomed was he to seeing her everyday, and he felt he could go mad from missing her. Worse still was the knowledge that he had frightened her so severely that she should think he would harm her. The very thought struck horror into his heart and his head fell into his hands.

Y/N felt somewhat cowardly feigning illness so she did not have to see Aemond, another maid stepping in to fulfill her duties instead. But she had learnt the truth of his previous handmaiden's departure from the Princess Helaena, that she had indeed fallen pregnant, but with the child of her sweetheart who she promptly married. And now she felt ashamed at having levelled such awful accusations at the Prince. He had only ever been kind and a gentleman to her, only ever respected her boundaries and made sure she was comfortable with each one of his advances. Surely he would not wish to see her again. And yet she felt she must at least apologise for her part before requesting a new post.

Around the Hour of the Bat, a slight creak of wood alerted Aemond to his chamber door opening. He shot up from his seated position at seeing his beloved standing in the doorframe, her hand gripping the handle as if prepared to bolt at the slightest provocation. He cursed himself at his rapid movements, which had caused Y/N's eyes to widen and her to take a step back away from him. He wished he could pull her to him, hold her and tell her over and over that he would never harm her. But he knew that assuring her of this would require a much more delicate approach. Her name fell from his lips as a reverant whisper "Y/N."

Something in his expression or voice seemed to calm Y/N enough for her to softly close the door behind her and take a few tentative steps forward. Though, with grief in his heart, he noted how she would not meet his eye. Her voice came out so quiet and timid he could hardly bear the evidence of the fear he had wrought in the one person he wished to protect and care for above all else. "You are not still angry?"

Aemond took one step forward and then another as he watched carefully for any signs of distress, aware she was like to be flighty. He approached until he was close enough to touch her, though he refrained from doing so just yet. "I was wrong to raise my voice at you, and to lash out so that you should think I would strike you. Your misapprehensions were entirely understandable and I bitterly regret being so blinded by anger that should never have been directed at you, the one I love."

Y/N's eyes shot up at his words, her brows pulled together quizzically. "You love me?"

Aemond smiled sadly down at her. "I adore you. I am sorry indeed if I have not expressed this clearly enough."

Gently taking one of her hands in his own he started to pull her towards the chaise in the centre of the room. She followed without complaint but still looked wary of him. Once she was sat, he knelt before her and took both of her hands in his this time. Aemond tried to endow each of his words with weight to express the truth of his love for her as he gazed into her face. "If you can find it in yourself to forgive me Y/N, I will make you a promise now that I will never again raise my voice to you, nor will I ever comport myself in such a brutish manner before you. I would never harm you, my sweet girl" He slowly raised a hand to rest it on her cheek. "You are most precious to me. I wish only to see you happy and safe, for you to let me love you. If you permit it I would make you my Lady Wife. But, if you do not think you can ever feel safe in my presence again and you wish to part from me I will try to bear it."

Aemond feared he had mispoken when Y/N's eyes watered until her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder. His hands rose up slowly to hold her against him, one hand tenderly placed against the back of her head. He waited patiently for Y/N to speak but felt relief roll over him at the thought that she had looked to him for comfort. "I love you, Aemond."

He gripped her to him tighter, feeling that no words could be sweeter to him. He had hoped for so long to hear her say those words, for her to return his love and yet now he still feared he might lose her. Aemond tried not to panic and hold Y/N more steadfastly against him as she pulled back to look at him seriously, seemingly now in control of her emotions, her face level with his. "I want to trust you, to trust in your intentions. I will believe you if you say you love me as I know now that I was wrong about your previous handmaiden. But you must realise I am a servant. Can you really wish to marry me? "

Aemond beamed at Y/N as he realised she did not wish to cast him aside, that he could still acquit himself to her and prove his intentions. Smiling at her, his eye softening, he raised his arms to place them on either side of her. "It is my greatest and most earnest desire that you become my wife. You would no longer be a servant but my Lady" He hesitated for a moment, thinking of how he could put into words his devotion to her. "I wish only to continue in your light." Aemond lightly trailed a hand down her arm, his heart beating erratically as he awaited Y/N's answer. Aemond stilled as she raised her own hand to rest against his cheek, worried that the slightest movement from him would cause her to reconsider her actions. Leaning into her hand he placed his own atop to hold hers in place and briefly closed his eyes in bliss at her touch so willingly given. "Then I will marry you."

Aemond wasted no time in sweeping Y/N back into his arms, letting out a laugh as the pressing weight of her potential rejection lifted, leaving behind only joy in her acceptance of his love. When he felt her gently push against his shoulders he immediately pulled back, concerned he'd somehow misread the situation and only dreamed she had agreed to marry him. His mind quickly quietened at her loving gaze, only to begin racing again as she unexpectedly pressed a chaste peck to his lips. Y/N had hoped to convey her own feelings for Aemond by initiating a kiss, but she immediately felt embarassed at her own inexperience, sure she had not done it correctly. Aemond was only too happy to take control, feeling an overwhelming sense of affection rise in him at her innocent gesture and the bashful look on her face. Smiling at her, he pulled her to him to capture her lips with his. Aemond tightened his hold on her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him closer.

If you got this far you're a legend. Thank you so much for reading. I have ideas for at least another part so pls let me know if you want me to continue.

@nanawaffles

@youknownothingjohnwatson

@jjkysnk

@callsigncrushx

@misspinkonmars

@hyacinthesiss

@bitchyfestivalbouquet

@truly-abysmal

@void21

@sapphiresandferrari

@pinkykats-place

@superintenseart

@idonotknowenglish

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indigovigilance · 1 year

Text

Jimbriel, Satan, the Book of Life, and what it means for Crowley

Acknowledging that what we know so far about the Book of Life from various characters is highly suspect, I'm going to posit to you that Beelzebub is actually the true authority on the Book of Life, and that they bookend Season 2 with very important (and hopefully accurate) information about the Book of Life. With that in mind, let's take Beezlebub's S2E1 description and see how it fits with other canon evidence:

But what does it mean to have never existed in the Good Omens universe? For that, let us look to Satan.

From in-show canon, we know that Adam was able to retroactively change Satan's status as his father to not his father:

Adam altered reality, although Crowley, Aziraphale, the other celestials, and even Adam himself remember those events from a timeline that supposedly has been erased:

But Crowley nonetheless confirms that this is reality now. Satan was never Adam's father.

Additionally, though not technically in-show canon, we know from Notorious NRG that once Satan became Lucifer, this erased Lucifer from existence in the GO universe:

And Crowley's monologue in the bar drives it home; even though Lucifer no longer exists, Crowley still remembers him, and some key events that they were involved in together.

But a more dramatic portrayal of erasure is found in our favorite Good Omens himbo, Jimbo. In the trial of Gabriel, the Metatron makes direct allusion to the fact that Gabriel will no longer be Gabriel after his demotion:

Not "your memory of your time as the supreme archangel will be erased," no, it's:

Your memory of your time as Gabriel will be erased.

Whether he means to or not, Aziraphale reinforces this characterization of memory-loss-as-new-identity:

This can be taken simply as a safety measure, but Jimbo doesn't understand it that way and we see throughout the remainder of the season that Aziraphale is very consistent about calling his unexpected guest "Jim," even correcting Crowley when they're speaking privately and it wouldn't blow his cover to call him Gabriel:

But the final word on memory and identity, especially as they pertain to Jimbriel, again comes from our Lord of the Flies, Beelzebub:

All your you is your memories.

Altogether we see that there is significant in-show canon to support a theory that memory is inextricably linked with identity, and that when memory is removed, identity is so drastically changed that the name of the entity must also change... and the person who existed before, with that former name, exists no longer; it is as if they never had.

(But, as we see in the case of Gabriel, they can be restored.)

I told you in the title that this post was about the Book of Life: it is. Everything discussed here about memory and identity must necessarily characterize how the Book of Life operates, at least with respect to erasure. When someone is erased, they don't vanish, but they are so changed it is as if a new person has taken the place of the old, the way Jim took the place of Gabriel, until he got his memories back. But we can surmise that when someone is erased from the Book of Life, their memories aren't conveniently stored in a TARDIS/Ru Paul fly for later recovery. The memories may not be gone, but I'm going to guess that they would be extremely difficult (or impossible) to retrieve.

What this means for Crowley:

I think we need to give this scene a lot more credit for telling us how this universe works. Surface level, it reads as "you don't understand my trauma, and how I've been changed by it." Which is a very valid interpretation. But we can dig deeper and see that, given everything else we know about celestial beings losing their memories, names, and identities, Crowley is alluding to something far more horrific than just the scars left by flaming swords and halo-grenades.

These are the scars of a lobotomy. Something was taken from him, and he is aware of it.

He knows that his memory has been tampered with. Various people (Furfur, Saraqael) tell him that they recognize him, and of things they've done together. He has no recollection of them, but instead of getting agitated, he brushes it off and ignores it. This lack of questions from the guy who questions everything tells us that he already has the answers; not the memories, but the knowledge of why he doesn't have them.

Furthermore, when he's trying to get Jim to remember the something bad and Jim says it hurts, Crowley says:

I know. Do it anyway.

How does Crowley know that it hurts, to try to recall memories that have been taken out of your head?

Because he's been through it.

He has tried to remember, and some memories, like working on the Horsehead Nebula with Saraqael or monkeying around with Furfur, weren't worth the pain. Or perhaps it was pain on top of pain to remember what he had lost.

It is an especial testament to the cruelty of Heaven that he remembers going into battle, but not the bonds he formed with his friends. He remembers a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulfur, but not the work he did on the Horsehead Nebula, a thing that brought him joy.

And now, the person he loves most in the world, his only refuge from the terror of his empty nightmares, from his malignant and creeping sense of unease that something is missing, has gone back to that place where his identity was so horribly violated that he lost his name.

How will our hero cope?

If you liked this meta, you will almost certainly like my meta on Continuity Errors.

For my thoughts on who Crowley may have been before the fall, go here.

For my thoughts on how this pertains to Metatron, go here.

As I continue to produce metas related to this theory, you'll be able to find them all here.

#good omens #good omens 2 #book of life #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #gabriel #ineffable husbands #ineffable bureaucracy #beelzebub #ivoc #erasure theory

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poppadom0912 · 8 months

Text

Excuses

Warnings: Mentions of fainting, diabetes, canon-typical injuries

Summary: You suffer the consequences just because your teacher thought you were making excuses.

A/N: First fic of 2024!!! I had plans that I was going to post weekly in the new year just like last year but things went downhill. This january and february has had its very good but also really bad moments and even writing this was a struggle. I've found myself in a weird place of wanting to write but struggling and all of a sudden not being able to balance my schoolwork and writing. So I took a lil step back to solely focus on my work but looking at everything now, my fic updates will be much less frequent but hopefully just as or if not, more fun to read.

I feel bad for not saying or posting anything since the new year but I'm here now and hopefully will be more alive. I've got lots planned for you beautiful people, several series and way too many fics in my drafts that I cannot wait for you all to read. This wasn't as long or as juicy as I intended but my brain completely failed me so I hope this is good enough. I initially wanted to post this at the beginning of March but I finished the final editing today so here you go!!

Final note before we start, I have general knowledge about diabetes but that's all from my grandma. I have no idea if it's the same for teenagers so I'm sorry for any mistakes. Happy reading!!

Your biology teacher had been on maternity for three weeks now and you were seriously contemplating life.

Because of the crappy rules surrounding maternity leave, when your teacher refused to return before her three months ended, your school had a supply teacher fill in for her till she came back.

Since day one, you knew you hated her.

It was mid lesson and you knew as soon as you started feeling sluggish that your sugar levels were dropping. Your thoughts were only confirmed when your Dexcom receiver let you know of your decreasing glucose.

This wasn't a usual occurrence. Will and Jay always made sure you had eaten enough and you had the means to maintain the needed glucose levels so that nothing happened.

Alas, you were up late revising and you were stressing about keeping up your good grades. Jay was rushing you out the door because he needed to go to a scene he'd just been called to and Will was out walking Kol and hadn't seen you leave.

In conclusion, it'd been a hot minute since you last ate something.

The school were well aware of your diabetes. It was one of the very important things your brothers stressed them about when you first started.

Most students knew about it actually, having seen your Dexcom and not understanding since a diabetic child apparently wasn't common according to them.

So, when you randomly pulled out a snack from your bag mid class, no one questioned it and instead would make sure you were okay. There'd never been a problem before in school and everyone wanted it to stay that way.

However, this new teacher, Mrs Byrne was apparently completely unaware of your medical condition.

"Y/N. You know the rules about eating in class." She said strictly, pulling away all the attention from the board onto you.

She stopped you in the middle of opening the packet of fruit gummies. You frowned, looking at her confused along with your classmates.

"I have diabetes." You said bluntly, continuing to open the packet. "I don't eat this and I'll pass out."

Mrs Byrne only rolled her eyes, smiling at you condescendingly. "I've heard that excuse hundreds of times, give those to me."

You scoffed at the audacity, refusing to hand over what was yours.

It was when she started walking towards your desk with a pep in her step that the entire class got involved. Their raised voices overlapped, some angrier than others over what was happening.

However, you too were Stubborn alike to your brothers so you kept as firm of a grip of the packet. You turned a blind eye to the anger fuelled cover teacher. You continued to smile as she spewed threats of all sorts.

Due to your frustration and annoyance over the teacher who wanted to take your gummies away, you didn't notice how everything started change; how hard it was to move your eyes and lips, your limbs getting heavier and you thoughts slowly getting muddled up.

Lost in a daze, you were no longer able to fight back when she pulled harder, successfully snatching the small packet out of your hands. It was now that the class got furious, your friends were already up and at your side but now they were verbally attacking the teacher.

Fed up with her petty behaviour, you were going to get up and go to the nurses office who would take care of you but getting out your seat was harder said than done.

With one of your friends help, you weren't too sure who was helping you from your hazy sight that cleared when you blinked too many times.

You were wobbly on your feet, taking slow and hesitant steps towards the front of the classroom but before you could leave, you felt your legs give out and everything went black.

*****

It turned out that supposed crime scene that he was imminently needed at was nothing but a prank by a bunch of college boys resulting in a grumpy Hank putting them in cuffs and having them fined for a very reasonable reason.

That's how the rest of the unit found themselves finishing up paperwork, catching up about life in general as they debated what they were getting for lunch.

Jay was smugly sitting back, eyes flickering between Kevin and Adam who were bickering over something trivial when his phone rung, catching everyone's attention.

They were all so bored and normally when one of their phones went off during work hours, it meant something came up and they were needed.

In interest, everyone turned their heads towards Jay and waited for him to tell them they got a crime scene.

Picking up his phone, Jay's brows furrowed at the number, confused as to why your school was calling him in the middle of the day. They'd only call him if two things happened: You'd gotten in trouble or you got hurt.

"Hello. Is this Y/N Halsteads brother Jay?" A voice he couldn't recognised asked, most likely some lady from the main office.

"Yeah, that's me." Jay confirmed, sitting up in preparation for whatever he was going to be told.

"So sorry to interrupt you sir but Y/N collapsed in class." The lady said with guilt laced in her words. "Your other brother didn't pick up the phone. We called to let you know we had to call the paramedics and they've taken her to Chicago Med."

"Uh yeah." Jay said, collecting his jacket and keys. "Yes, thank you."

Not waiting for a reply, Jay hung up and quickly knocked on Hank's office door frame.

"Sarge, I gotta get Y/N-"

"Go get her. We're done here."

*****

Wanting to pull his hair out, Will rubbed his eyes in frustration, glaring at his patients scans that only confused him further. He was tired and was coming to half way through his twenty four hour shift.

"Dr Halstead- Uh, Dr Rhodes in T4." Maggie stumbled, looking down at her brick and making sure she read it correctly.

"What's wrong?" Will asked, confused as to why Maggie changed her mind which she usually never did.

"It's Y/N."

Now fully awake, Will followed Connor towards the ambulance bay where you were being rolled in. You were groggily sitting up on the stretcher, you hair a mess and a few scratches around your face and hands from when you fell.

"Sylvie, what happened?" Will asked the blonde paramedic while looking you over. He desperately wanted to check you over himself but let Connor do his thing. He really did not need Ms Goodwin on his case today.

"Teachers didn't tell us much but her classmates said she collapsed after not being able to eat." Sylvie relayed the minimal information she knew, shrugging her shoulders when the two doctors looked at her weirdly. "No one would tell us anything more."

"Y/N, it's Connor. Can you hear me kid?" Connor said while pulling out his penlight. He was like another brother to you, his concern just as high. "Can you tell me what happened?"

You groaned, mumbling nonsense with your eyes screwed closed. Your words were mostly unintelligible but Will understood them mere seconds later.

Fixing the problem you complained about, Will turned down the lights and let Connor continue fussing over you.

It didn't take long to find out the cause of your collapse, Will sighing at the news when he read the numbers from your tests.

"I thought she was always on top of her sugar levels." Connor said, closing the room door so you could sleep in peace.

And what he said was completely true but they weren't aware of why you couldn't today specifically of all days.

"She is." Will said, rubbing a hand down his face in frustration. "Maybe her dexcom malfunctioned or something."

Connor hummed, agreeing with his friend.

"Hmm, maybe."

*****

Arriving at Med, Will gave Jay a detailed rundown of everything he new about your medical state but also the events pre your hospital arrival.

Getting a good look at you, holding your hand in his and kissing you on your forehead, Jay was more than happy to leave you in your oldest brothers safe hands while he got to the bottom of this entire ordeal.

He noticed Sylvie was still at Med, Foster mentioning they were running low on a few supplies so they needed some stocking up. Jay took this opportunity to interview the two paramedics and try to get further understanding on this situation that wasn't making much sense to him.

Arriving at your school, Jay had some thoughts in mind but they weren't very concrete and his confidence wasn't as strong as he'd like it to be.

Walking into the school, Jay immediately noticed an entire class sitting and standing around in the corridor waiting in front of the principals office.

One of the girls who had been sitting in a chair had caught sight of Jay, her eyes widening before she smiled, gently nudging the girl next to her and pointing in his direction. The girls reaction was the exact same.

This created a sort of domino effect as the boy next to her noticed Jay and everyone was telling the other of his sudden arrival. The once silent corridor was now beginning to fill with murmurs and whispers, all their eyes glued onto his figure that moved down the corridor, their shocked faces quickly changing into smiles and smirks.

It seems that Jay had a reputation of sorts.

"Why are you making so much noise? What did I just say about talking-"

The principal cut himself off from his scolding when he suddenly noticed Jay's presence, his face blanching as all the pieces clicked into place.

"Detective Halstead! What a surprise, we weren't expecting to see you so soon-"

This time Jay cut him off, not too bothered about his lack manners. "My brothers with Y/N at the hospital so I thought there was no other perfect time."

The principal remained silent.

"Now, why don't you explain to me why my sister fainted under your watch?"

The students behind Jay couldn't help but snicker knowingly.

#onechicago #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #halstead sister #jay halstead #will halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x sister!reader #will halstead x reader #will halstead imagine #will halstead x sister!reader

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rose-pearls · 7 months

Note

Hiiiii i really love your work and was wondering if i could request a clarisse x daughter of Athena fic where (tw: sh) the reader has some control issues/is a bit of a control freak and sh to feel in control and clarisse finds out and helps her find some healthier coping mechanisms— idk like sparring or screaming at broken spears😂 if you’re not comfortable with this no worries— just thought i’d ask. have a great day!!!

Hi! Thank you for your request hopefully you like the way I wrote it! It is a bit short but I have kind of a writer block these last few days, but I am working on the requests I received (thank you so much for sending them)!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @kmc1989, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain

Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303

Clarisse La Rue Taglist: @peanutbelley, @abbersreads

Warnings: Self-harm, talking about doing it!!!

It wasn’t easy being a daughter of Athena, your mother was seen as the Goddess of Wisdom, and she always excepted perfection from her children. Some of her children managed to make her proud while others tried their whole lives only to have her ignore them as they hadn’t accomplished what she had expected them to.

To say you where someone stressed would be an understatement as you always found yourself wanting to control everything, practically losing your mind when you couldn’t control it. You learned to take control through small things, such as eating things in a certain way, that you only wanted to come out even numbers when you did something or the way you had to have every decoration perfectly centered. These were small things that everyone noticed but there was one thing that you hadn’t showed, too afraid of someone telling you that you are weak and that you aren’t a real daughter of Athena. You knew it was bad, from the first time you did it till now, taking that small blade from under your pillow to cut a small line across your skin. People couldn’t really see it, unless they really played attention to it, but you had always been careful. It was like doing it kept you in control of yourself and allowed you to focus more and be better. But it quickly became addicting, that grounding pain keeping you away from your mind running a thousand miles an hour.

You didn’t know what you were going to do when Clarisse would want to go further into your relationship, as the scars had always been hidden behind layers of clothes. Deep down you knew she would find out one day, but you just wanted to push it away for as long as you could, not wanting the brave Ares girl to see you like this. Only she learned it much faster than you could have imagined.

“What are you doing?”, you hear someone whisper and you turn around to find the door you thought locked wide open with Clarisse standing there. She looks pained at the sight of the small blade and your naked skin covered in small scars.

“Nothing,” you whisper, trying to quickly put your clothes back on but a soft hand stops you.

You look at her but as you are expecting her to be looking at the scar, she looks at you with sad brown eyes.

“Are you self-harming?”, the word is said so quietly that you barely hear it, but it still makes you flinch. You never wanted to say the word, thinking that if you didn’t it wouldn’t make it as important as it is.

“I do,” you whisper softly, not able to lie as she looks at you with tearful brown eyes. She looks even more pained at the words before getting closer to you.

“Can you let me disinfect the cut and put something on it?”, she asks, and you can only nod as she sits you back down and starts cleaning up the cut carefully. It is only when she finishes that you both find yourself in a long silence.

“You can always come to me when you need to talk. Please just come to me when you think of doing this, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” she whispers and you nod slowly, even if you did it you knew it was a hurtful thing to do.

“I just, I can’t stop,” you whisper, and she closes her eyes at the words, pain etched over her features.

“I’ll help you stop; we will find ways to help you cope without doing this,” she tells you and you nod slowly at her words, unable to figure out if you would ever really be able to stop doing it.

“I-I know it will be hard, but I will be there right by your side helping you. You can always come to me when you feel the need to do it,” Clarisse whispers as she holds your hand tightly, she seems scared that you are going to refuse her and not try to stop.

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything just yet,” you whisper, and she nods quickly, there is a certain understanding in her eyes.

“That is completely normal, I don’t except everything to be alright in a second. Take your time,” she says softly, and you nod before you trying to blink the tears away at her reassurances, but even as you try not to let them fall, they slide down your cheeks. Clarisse doesn’t say anything as the tears fall down your cheeks, she just brings you into her arms and hold you tightly. And if you feel tears against your hair, you don’t say anything, you just hold her tighter.

It isn’t that easy to stop, you knew it wouldn’t but having Clarisse by your side helps. She tries to find new ways with you to cope with your control issues, but it seems you don’t manage it the same way as her. She is more used to taking a sword and destroy a dummy while you look at the sword with disdain, rather wanting to plot the attack and using a dagger. But you find that baking is the solution, following a recipe and watching it all come together manages to keep yourself together and your mind away from things. It doesn’t solve everything, but it helps putting some thoughts away and focusing on something else. You don’t know how it comes that you are so lucky to have Clarisse by your side, but you cherish every second you have with her and her wide smiles as you put another baked treat in front of her.

#percy jackson x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse pjo #clarrise la rue #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse x female reader

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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year

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A/N: okay wow, it's actually here, but let me say a ew things first: i am no it proessional so there are some made up stuff so don't come after me if there are untrue things in the story lmao. also, the ending... im not entirely in peace with it, but i've been sitting on this story for way too long so i just bit my tongue and finised it. don't come after me if you don't like it... but anyway! hope it didn't turn out as bad and you'll enjoy the story!

WORD COUNT: 13.7k

SUMMARY: You're up for the promotion you've always dreamt about, but right when you need to prove everything goes downhill. Lucky for you the cute, quiet IT guy, Harry, is there to help you out.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

There’s that feeling when you wake all by yourself, a moment of peace takes over you for not starting the day off with your one true enemy, the alarm, but then panic instantly stabs you in the chest when you realize it’s a weekday and there’s absolutely no way you just woke up before your alarm, feeling this rested.

Your eyes pop open and you sit up in a frenzy looking around in the room, figuring out what happened and what should be done now. First you check the time on your phone and when you see that it reads 8:32 you almost start crying, but there’s no time for that, so you jump out of bed and sprint into the bathroom, stopping on the way when you spot Eric in the hallway, fully dressed, ready to leave.

“Eric?! Why didn’t you wake me up?!” you snap at him. He turns to you with innocence all over his face.

“I thought you were off today,” he simply says.

“Off?! We have the board meeting today, how could I be off!” you practically scream as you rush into the bathroom to get ready in less than two minutes hopefully.

“I’m sorry!” he calls out from outside. “I’ll see you in the office!”

And the next thing you hear is the front door opening and closing.

“Motherfu…” you mumble as you start washing your face like a crazy woman.

You leave in ten minutes, but you’re fifteen minutes late already, no matter how magically fast you got ready. You don’t have time to get a bagel for breakfast and you’re already halfway into the office when you realize you left your lunch at home too. You somehow shorten the route and win a few minutes on your way in, but you still arrive ten minutes late, looking like a hot mess, completely out of control as you make your way to the twentieth floor to your desk, pretending you haven’t just had the absolute worst morning of your life.

The elevator almost closes right in front of you, but before you could smash against the sliding doors a hand sticks out and stops it, letting you slip in last minute.

“Ah, thank you,” you breathe out, your purse sliding off your shoulder and your folder almost falls from your hands.

“N-No problem,” a sweet and smooth voice answers, but your hair is such a mess, it covers your vision and you don’t see the kind man that saved you a few minutes with his move. The moment the elevator arrives to your floor you jump out and rush towards your desk.

“You alright, boss?” Zaya, your intern asks, who is more like a personal assistant at this point. She eyes you curiously from her desk as you gasp for air and try to soothe out the wrinkles on your blouse, though there’s absolutely no use in it.

“Everything is perfectly fine,” you force a smile on your face as you start your computer, emails flowing in like crazy the moment you open your inbox. “Just had a rough morning.”

With Zaya’s help you go through everything at light speed, it’s one of your biggest strengths, being fast and productive, so in just about twenty minutes you reduce the thirty-seven unread emails to just two.

You’ve cleared your schedule beforehand so you can have a practice run for your big presentation. Today’s board meeting is gonna be an important one. There’s a promotion at risk, one you’ve been working your ass off to get and now it’s so close, you can almost feel it between your fingertips. This presentation and what stands behind it all is what you’ve worked for night and day for the past month and you have never been more confident in yourself, though you can’t shake the general nervousness off.

You make your test run to Zaya who says her mind is blown and there’s no chance you won’t get the promotion.

“You got it, boss,” she fist bumps you, something you’ve grown to like, it’s her form of appreciation.

“I hope so,” you sigh. “Alright, I’ll grab a coffee quickly before the meeting.”

You head a few levels down to the main kitchen area that has the best coffee machine in the building. It’s already past the morning rush, so you’re delighted to see that there are just a few people lingering around. Including Eric.

“Hey!” you huff out a smile as you stand next to him at the coffee machine. He peeks at you, just a tiny smile on his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes like usual.

“Hey.”

“If you’re curious, I was only just a bit late this morning,” you chuckle to yourself, grabbing a cup while Eric waits for his own coffee to get ready.

“Mm, great. Sorry about… the morning.”

“It’s okay, are you nervous? About the presentation?”

Funny enough you’re running for the promotion against Eric, the guy you’ve been hooking up for the past few months. It’s nothing serious, no strings attached, mostly just sex, though you believe that if you spend at least three nights together every week and spend time outside of bed as well, that has to mean more than just a regular hook up.

Right?

“Not really,” he shrugs, but it doesn’t sound genuine.

“It’s okay, you’ll do good,” you smile at him warmly as you place your hand on his arm and give it a squeeze, but you’re surprised when he moves out of your touch, shooting you a look.

“Not… in the office, Y/N,” he grits through his teeth, looking around to check if anyone saw the tiny gesture while you’re just blinking at him dumbly.

Yes, you usually keep your… whatever it is out of the office, but he hasn’t been this distant to you before. Before you could ask his phone starts ringing and he mumbles an apology before running off.

You write it off as nerves, you know Eric to be highly competitive, it must be a new field for him as well, running against someone he is involved with.

Your heart is racing when you enter the boardroom, welcoming the people that will decide your future at the company, the CEO, the CFO, the head of marketing and a few others you’re not that familiar with, but you know they have power.

For the promotion you had to come up with a plan to boost the numbers on the website that hasn’t been doing much lately. You worked up a plan for a marketing strategy that would reach the target audience in a better way, it’s pretty awesome, you’re quite proud of it and you’re convinced you’ll kick ass with your presentation.

There are a few more minutes left until the meeting, you pour yourself some water and go ahead to open your slides on your computer so you have it all ready when it’s your turn.

“What… Oh no,” you whisper, when your computer starts lagging and the cursor freezes. “No, no, no!”

“Everything alright, Miss?” the CFO notices your panic.

“Yes!” you force a smile on your face. “Everything is… perfect.”

He nods and turns back to his previous conversation while your panic intensifies. You keep pushing buttons and trying to move the cursor, but it looks pretty dead, so you decide to shut it down and try to restart it, hopefully it will come back from the dead.

Eric strides into the room, but as he takes his seat he doesn’t even look at you, just sets out his own laptop and paper notes and stares ahead of him. No matter how you try to catch his attention, he ignores you fully and it’s just another punch in your stomach.

What the hell is happening?

“Alright, everyone ready?” Daniel, the CEO claps his hands together. “Eric, you’re up first,” he gestures at him and while you’re still desperately trying to revive your computer.

Eric sets up and when his presentation appears behind him your stomach drops instantly.

The title, the topic, the colors… everything. You know all of it, because… because you made it. It’s yours.

You forget about your computer as Eric starts talking and he presents your idea, everything you came up with and worked hard on, he hasn’t changed a bit about it and now he is making it look like it’s his own. If you were panicking before now you’re about to set on fire.

That would be probably nice, because you wouldn’t have to go up there and most likely embarrass yourself.

How did he get your presentation? Why did he steal it? You can’t blame him just out of the blue, you need proof and right now the only device that could have it is dead in front of you.

You are so screwed.

“ Holy fucking shit, oh my God!” you keep mumbling under your breath as you approach your desk, holding your dead computer to your chest, eyes wide from what you just went through.

“Boss? You alright?” Zaya’s eyes widen when she sees you all shocked and traumatized.

“No! I’m anything but alright!”

Luckily, the small meeting room near your desk is vacant so you’re quick to take it, Zaya following you right after, shutting the door closed so you can unleash fully.

“Oh my God I can’t fucking believe him! The asshole! How did he fucking do it?!” you snap, throwing everything to the table so you can anxiously start pacing the floor with your hands on your hips. “I cannot believe this, what the hell!”

“Y/N, what happened? You’re starting to scare me,” Zaya eyes you and she actually looks scared which is a new thing, the girl is fearless.

“Eric! He stole my… my whole fucking presentation!” you whisper-yell, throwing your hands up into the air. “Every slide! Every detail! It was all mine! And he sold it as his own!”

“W-what? But… how? And what did you present then?”

“I have no idea! He was up first, as we all knew ahead of time, he went up there, opened his presentation and it was mine! I thought I was about to fall off my seat, fucking hell,” you groan, rubbing your face with your hands. Thanks to your rushed morning you’re not wearing any makeup today so at least you can’t turn yourself into a panda bear. “My laptop died right before the meeting started so I could use it as an excuse and… fuck, I made up a whole other plan on the spot!” You’re about to start hyperventilating, maybe even crying which you’ve never ever done at work before.

“But… that’s good, right? That you came up with something new?” Zaya tries to see the bright side of it, but you shake your head violently.

“You know what I came up with? I said I’m planning to rebuild the whole fucking website! All of it!”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes! I basically set myself up for failure!”

Everyone knows a full makeover could easily be a death sentence, especially with such a short notice. You have no structure to it, no plan and most importantly no IT support to do the actual work. Because you can dream up any idea, but you cannot actually write the code for it.

Zaya tries to cheer you up but you both know you’re not only knee high, but probably neck high in deep shit. She promises to take up extra hours to help you figure out what to do and though it’s nice, the situation still feels pretty much lost.

You’re on the verge of tears when you make your way to the IT department to have your computer checked out, which is still pretty much dead. You’re already dreading the interaction, Steven, the head of the IT department is a real pain in the ass, he never wants to actually help with anything so it’s always a fight to get things done with him.

When you walk into their office he is the first one you see and you almost groan out loud, but manage to keep quiet as you approach him.

“Hi Steven, do you happen to have a moment?” you ask, as politely and nicely as you can in the light of what just happened, but apparently it’s not enough for him, because the look he gives you makes you want to turn around and run away.

“What’s the matter?” he grimaces, fixing his glasses as he leans back in his seat.

“My laptop just died,” you hold up the device.

He stares at you, then at your laptop and then his eyes flicker back to you and he stays silent for what feels like forever before he speaks up.

“I have no time for this now,” he says, returning to his own computer and your shoulders fall forward in defeat, but then he speaks up again. “Go to the back and ask for Styles.”

“Thank you,” you breathe out and are already on your way away from his desk.

Maneuvering between the desks you’re trying to find out who’s Styles or who to even ask to tell you where to find him and you’re just about to stop at one of the desks when you see a big screen, a sticker on the back of it that says H. Styles, so you make your way over there.

As you’re approaching the desk a head full of chocolate curls appear and soon you spot the guy sitting behind the screen, peering up at you with curious, green eyes from behind his glasses.

“Are you… Styles?” you ask, feeling weird that you only know his family name. He stares at you for a second with wide eyes and you start to think you’ve got the wrong guy, but then he nods, the curls bouncing along with the movement.

“Y-yeah. I’m Harry Styles.”

“Great! Steven said you might be able to have a look at my computer, it’s completely dead.”

“Sure,” he clears his throat as he pushes back from the desk while you round it to give the laptop to him. “W-what happened?” he asks as he opens it up and tries to turn it on, but the screen remains black.

“Um, basically it froze right before the most important presentation of my life and then it died and hasn't turned on since then,” you summarize with a sad smile as you watch him grab some kind of cable to connect your laptop with his computer.

Harry hums as he opens some kind of program that has a long, complicated looking code running in front of him and he clicks and searches in it so easily as if he was reading a children’s book.

“Is it fully dead?” you ask after a couple of minutes.

“No, but you got a virus, it might take some time to restore everything and some files might not make it, I’m sorry.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling like crying again, but you manage to swallow them back as you lean against the edge of Harry’s desk. He looks up at you like a frightened kid.

“I-I can try to get everything back, I promise, it’s just that–”

“No, I know it’s not up to you. Thank you though. I’m just on the verge of… would it be weird if I started screaming right now?” you ask rhetorically as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I can set up another one for you to use with all the access cloned from yours, but you won’t have the files in the meantime.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

“Is there any file in particular you want me to try to recover?”

“There’s this folder that would be nice if I had it, here, this is the name,” you say as you grab a post-it and a pen and scribble the name down with all the files in it.

“Okay, I will try to restore it. Give me a few minutes to set your replacement computer up.”

Nodding sadly you wait by Harry’s desk, watching him work on his computer like it’s an instrument and he is pretty much a professional. You know nothing about programming, but Harry seems like a wizard, you have no idea why Steven makes him deal with all the tiny things when he could pretty much redeem the world.

“Here, this is the password, everything is set up,” he hands you the new computer.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll give you an email when I have something about your old one.”

“Okay, my address is–”

“I know, I just… I literally just logged you into your account,” he reminds me with a shy smile and you realize he’s right.

“Oh. I forgot. Well, thank you so much, Harry. And I’m sorry you have to deal with it now.”

“It’s fine, I’m the newest on the team, this is how it goes. Rookies get to deal with all the device issues,” he chuckles shortly.

You nod with a sympathetic smile and pay one last look to your savior. He looks young, around your age, but he’s sporting a slight stubble that adds some harshness to his otherwise boyish face. He’s got kind eyes behind his glasses, the prettiest pink lips you’ve ever seen on a man and his curls are screaming to be touched, though you’re not sure HR would take it well if you were just walking around the office, touching people’s hair. Oddly, it wouldn’t be the first time they would have to deal with a situation like this. Bobby DeMarco was a weird dude who worked in sales and he had an even weirder obsession with playing with women’s hair randomly. He didn’t last too long at the company, luckily.

When you return to your desk it takes everything in you to focus on working and A, not find Eric to claw his eyes out and B, not anxiously wait to hear anything from the board about today’s meeting. They are supposed to give feedback today and approve if you can continue working on your project and they can easily just kick you out of the whole thing as well. If that happened Eric would still have to prove himself to be a good fit for the role, but you’d have no chance to ever step up at the company.

You’re a mess, to say the least. You’re panicking over having to do a full website makeover in just a month, you have no idea where you stand with Eric and honestly, you’re torn between never wanting to talk to him and also screaming at him until your lungs give up.

God, your sister will be so mad, she was right! Jeanie warned you. She said it right at the beginning when you started hooking up with Eric that it’s not gonna end well, but you thought she was talking about being dumped eventually, not getting your promotion stolen from you!

When Zaya comes up to you with a question later in the day you’re still so shaken up you can barely make out an answer for her.

“I think you should report it,” she suggests, holding her notebook to her chest.

“And what do I have as proof? My computer is totally dead with all the evidence I made the presentation,” you groan, leaning back in your seat.

“Let’s hope the hot IT guy can restore everything.”

“Hot?” you chuckle. “How do you know he’s hot?”

“You said it’s Harry doing it, right? Curly hair, glasses?” You nod. “I know him, he is definitely hot,” she shrugs smirking, shifting her weight to one leg. “You know what would be nice? Hooking up with him to get revenge on Eric!”

“H-Hooking up? Why would Eric care about who I hook up with?” you clear your throat, pretending like you haven’t had a thing going on with Eric these past months. Zaya gives you a look that clearly says you shouldn’t think she’s stupid and blind.

“Please, Y/N.”

Sighing you roll your eyes as you give up the act.

“Judging from the betrayal Eric gives absolutely no shit about me.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” she shrugs just when your computer pings, signaling two new emails in your inbox.

One from the board and one from Harry.

“Oh shit,” you gasp as you lean forward so fast you almost fall off your seat and Zaya runs behind your desk to see what’s happening as you open the email from the board.

Your eyes skim over the lines several times before you finally process what was written in it.

They approved your plan. You’re still up for the promotion.

“Congrats! You made it!” Zaya cheers.

“Fuck,” you whisper under your breath.

“What’s wrong? I thought this was what you wanted.”

“The chance and the promotion? Yes. But now I have to do a full website makeover in a month which is practically impossible.”

You’re still moping and silently panicking when you’re approaching Harry’s desk for the second time today. When he sees you he jumps to his feet and you almost break a smile because he looks like a puppy for a second, but then you see that he has taken his sweatshirt off, wearing only a simple black t-shirt that puts his tattoo littered arms on display.

Fuck, Zaya was right. He really is kinda hot.

“Hey,” he waves at you when you finally reach his desk.

“Hi, how did it go?” you ask with a deep breath.

“Actually kinda good, I could save most of your stuff,” he says as he sits back and you walk behind his desk, seeing your laptop still wired to his computer. “I saved the files onto a harddrive, but I don’t recommend you to keep using the laptop, it’s… it’s pretty fried,” he chuckles, pushing the glasses further up on the bridge of his nose and for a moment you just stare at his side profile instead of focusing on what he’s showing you on his screen.

“Uh, that’s okay, I’ll be fine with the files,” you clear your throat.

“So um… I don’t know if it matters or not, but I-I thought you might want to know that you didn’t just get the virus because you clicked on something, it was… well, someone put it on your computer and it started attacking the firmware.”

You blink a few times as you process his words and then it all starts to make sense.

“What do you mean someone put it on my computer?”

“Well, there was a malware hidden on your computer that basically attacked the firmware which made it impossible for you to use the laptop and it also attacked the files saved, I found an implanted code that was giving access to–”

“Harry, I don’t really understand what you’re saying,” you remind him, his words sounding absolutely foreign to you.

“Sorry,” he breathes out with a nod. “So basically, the virus stopped your computer from working and it also gave access to a third party to reach your files.”

“So someone could use my files?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

You feel like fainting again, because now it all makes sense. And you’re starting to see red.

“Can you see what files they messed with?”

“Actually, I’m glad you asked,” he smiles proudly. “I was able to find everything they duplicated and there’s a folder they tried to get rid of, but I restored it.”

“Is it by any chance the folder I gave the name to you?”

“It is,” he nods, his fingers starting to type on his keyboard at lightspeed. “Here. See these lines?” he asks, pointing at a code you understand nothing of, but you nod. “It’s basically something they should have paid attention to if they wanted to leave no trace, but I found it so now we know what they were trying to put their hands on. I even have time stamps too. The virus was on your computer for a while and then it was activated to attack the firmware today.”

This is all like a movie, it feels like you’re in Mission Impossible or James Bond, except it’s not a great villain who is working against you but the guy you trusted to let into your bed. The guy you considered your friend and even something more than just that lately.

You made a mistake, you see it now and you want to dwell on it but you know you have no time for that, you have to keep moving forward.

“Do you know who did it?”

“Unfortunately, no. I could only get proof if I had access to the other person’s computer who was hacking yours. I’m sorry.”

Harry seems genuinely sad, as if he failed, but he did so much for you already.

“It’s okay. Thank you so much, can you… like, make a record of all these? So we have all this as proof at least.”

“Already done,” he nods. “Do you want me to file a report?”

“No. No need for that,” you shake your head. “But… I want to ask a favor from you. I know we barely know each other and you probably have a lot of work, so feel free to say no.”

“What is it?”

“Do you want to help me redesign our whole website?”

You’re anxiously chewing on your bottom lip as you wait for the Skype call to be answered, your sister’s name flashing on the screen until her pixelated face replaces it.

And she looks mad, just as you expected.

“Y/N, I told you so! I literally told you so!” she starts off, the voice cracks a bit as the call stabilizes.

“Can we skip the part where you tell me off like a child for hooking up with a coworker who ended up fucking me over?” you flash a smile, but she rolls her eyes at you, leaning back on her couch, her right side getting more illuminated by the lamp beside her couch. It’s past seven in the evening in Tokyo while it’s just six am for you. For the past six months this has been your usual, trying to call each other at a time that’s reasonable for the both of you with the insane thirteen hours of time difference. It’s definitely a hard task and sometimes you have to plan a call days, even weeks ahead.

“No, because I’m so mad!” she groans. “Mostly at the fucker, but you as well!”

“I really don’t need to hear how much I fucked up,” you mumble, looking down at your lap.

“Sorry,” she sighs, realizing she is making you feel even guiltier. “I’m just… you worked so hard for this and now he is ruining it.”

“I’m still up for the promotion,” you shrug.

“Yeah, but you said it’s almost impossible to do what you presented.”

“Well, things are looking a bit better now.”

She listens intently as you tell her about what Harry found on your computer and how you ended up asking him to help you out. You truly didn’t think he would say yes, but he didn’t even think about it before agreeing. So now you have the IT part covered by him, you just have to come up with all the rest.

“This Harry guy…” Sammy starts and you hold up your hand.

“Don’t give me the speech again, I learned my lesson.”

“No, actually I wanted to say that I like him.”

“For real?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“I mean, he is willing to work an immense amount of extra time on your project and he basically has no benefit from it. I hope you do realize how big of a sacrifice he is making for your promotion.”

You knew how big of a deal it has been from Harry to help you out but now that Sammy said it out loud, realization hits. It’s not right he gets nothing out of it, so you note to yourself to go over it with him when you meet him in the morning for your first planning session.

“I’ll talk to him about it. Now let’s talk about something else.”

Harry was afraid he wouldn’t be able to wake up so early in the morning and make it into the office for the meeting with you, but it turns out his excitement to be working with you is kicking him out of bed even before his alarm goes off.

He does his usual morning routine, shower, get dressed, breakfast and checking he has everything he needs in his backpack for the day and then he’s on his way. When he walks into the café that’s two blocks away from his apartment the bell gently chimes above his head, catching the attention of the owner, Frida.

“Harry! You’re up early today!” she greets him with a beaming smile, her grey hair is in her signature low bun, her blue eyes twinkling at the sight of him.

“I have an early meeting,” he mumbles with a shy smile, the tip of his ears turning red and she doesn’t miss it, but she knows how closed off he is so she doesn’t even try to tease her about it.

“The usual?”

“Um, yeah, but can you make it two?”

“Of course,” she nods with a knowing smile, her suspicion is getting proven that this early meeting is with someone special.

The two chat lightly while Friday makes the coffees to go, handing the paper cups to Harry once they’re done.

“Have a lovely day, Harry,” she waves after him and he nods back, pushing the door open with his hips, a cup in each of his hands.

He can’t deny there’s a pep in his step as he enters the building that’s eerily empty so early in the morning. He did not expect his day to take such an unexpected turn yesterday. He’s seen you around the office a few times before but he knew nothing about you, just that your laughter is ridiculously contagious. Then you jumped into the elevator with him in the morning, looking a bit messy but very pretty nevertheless. He could only blink as the elevator sped up and moments later you were out of sight.

But then you strolled into the IT department with your ruined computer and he finally learned your name. While he wanted to help with your laptop as much and fast as possible, he was also dreading the moment you’d pick the harddrive up with all your files and then never talk to him again. He felt silly, crushing on a woman he only officially met just a few hours before, but he couldn’t help it. Even when you were visibly stressed and worried he thought you were enchanting.

He was not expecting you to ask for his help, but luckily his brain clicked instantly and agreed without hesitation. For one, he’s been dealing with boring projects as the rookie on the team and this seems like a great challenge for him.

On the other hand, he would have said yes to anything you asked him, literally.

So now as he walks into the meeting room where you’re supposed to meet his excitement is mixed with some anxiety, because as much as he is curious about this project he is nervous to spend so much time with you all of a sudden. He can only hope he won’t seem like a freak to you.

Thanks to the early Skype session with Sammy you’re on time too, arriving to the office building just minutes after Harry. He’s setting his laptop up when you arrive, his head snapping up when you approach the desk and take the seat next to him.

“Morning,” you smile at him warmly.

“Good morning,” he smiles back, fixing his glasses to sit straight before reaching for the extra cup of coffee. “Um, I brought you this. Actually, I realized too late that I don’t know how you like your coffee, so y-you don’t have to drink it…”

“Oh! That’s very kind, thank you! I drink coffee however I can,” you chuckle. “I just need the caffeine.”

You see a small smile flash across his face before he returns to his computer while you settle next to him.

“Before we start, I wanted to go over something with you.” Harry turns to you curiously as you try to figure out what to even say. “This is a huge thing and I know it needs a lot of time and work. I don’t feel comfortable letting you do it without getting anything for the work you do.”

“Oh, I-I don’t need anything, I’m glad to help.”

“That’s very kind, but it still doesn’t feel fair. If there is anything I can do for you, literally anything, just feel free to ask. I would feel better if I knew you’re getting your reward for your work.”

Harry thinks about it for a few seconds before nodding to himself.

“Do I have to come up with something now?”

“No,” you chuckle. “Just promise me you’ll think of some way I can pay you back.”

“Okay.”

In the next hour you learn two things. One, working with Harry is incredibly easy. He is efficient, communicates well and simply a great at teamwork, it’s like a breath of fresh air after some of the people you’ve previously worked with.

The other thing you learn is that he is incredibly smart and it makes him very… sexy.

God, you shouldn’t be having these thoughts after what happened with Eric, but you’re not immune to a good-looking man with so much knowledge, especially when it’s in IT. You know nothing about coding and when he pulls up his miles long codes, types quietly for a few minutes and then shows you what he did, explaining to you the science behind it… it’s making you feel things you shouldn’t be. It’s so attractive when someone knows so much about something and they’re passionate and devoted to the field. It’s clear that Harry’s field is programming and he is ridiculously good at it.

You were afraid the task would turn out to be impossible and every time he spends just a little more time silently staring at his code you’re expecting him to give up and tell you he can’t do it.

But he comes up with something every time and by the time the meeting ends you feel oddly enthusiastic and optimistic about the whole makeover that was scaring you to death just yesterday.

“Harry, you are… truly a life saver,” you sigh contently as you lean back in your seat, a long list of tasks on your screen, but you can actually see the light at the end of the tunnel now.

“I’m happy to help,” he smiles shyly, nodding to himself.

“Do not forget about the payment, I really want to pay it all back to you.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he chuckles softly.

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Tomorrow,” he confirms before packing up his stuff and leaving.

You stay in your seat for a little longer, just having a break before starting your actual work day. Opening up your calendar you check what meetings you have today and that’s when you face what you’ve been religiously ignoring since yesterday’s ordeal.

The weekly marketing sync where most of the time it’s just you and Eric, because Dominik, the third person who should be present likes to cancel last minute.

It’s ridiculous that you still haven’t gotten into contact with him. Part of you was expecting him to come to you, to give you any kind of explanation though there is nothing he could have said that would have explained why he did all of that.

It’s been radio silence on his part and now you have to face him and talk to him.

You’d rather throw up in the middle of the office than do it, but you have to suck it up and deal with him.

He is there in the meeting room when you walk in, typing away on his computer like nothing happened, like he didn’t just try to ruin your career.

“Eric?” you call out, your voice sounds a lot more confident than you were expecting luckily.

He looks up, his face remains completely blank and it just angers you even more.

“Hey,” he nods without batting an eye.

“Hey?” you chuckle, as you close the door behind you, shutting you away from the rest of the people outside. “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

“Y/N, do you really want to do this?” he sighs, as if it was tiring to even think about the situation.

“Eric, you stole my whole presentation and sold it as yours!”

“Are you sure about that?”

You’re seeing red. And you’ve never been this close to actually punching someone in the face.

“Of course I’m sure about it! That was my presentation! Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Eric stands from his seat, taking his sweet time as he walks closer, trying to intimidate you with the height difference, which used to work, you even found it hot when he towered over you, but now it’s like his existence is giving you the ick.

“You have no proof, Y/N. And you didn’t say a word at the meeting. That ship has sailed, now it’s time to move on.”

“It was all just a joke to you?”

“I told you at the beginning I didn’t want anything serious, that wasn’t a lie.”

“But did you do it just to fuck my presentation up? We literally started hooking up when the open position was announced.”

“Does it matter?”

“It does!” you laugh in disbelief, tears stinging your eyes, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry because of him.

“Okay,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just wanted to get to know you and see what you’d come up with for the presentation, but then one thing followed the other and… I went with it.” He shrugs and then goes back to his computer like you just discussed the weather and not how he used you and then threw you away.

You can’t hold yourself together any longer, so you turn around and get as far from him as possible as you try not to start sobbing in the middle of the office. Fuck, this shouldn’t hurt this much, but you really trusted him, you thought you could have something serious, you were hoping Sammy wouldn’t be right about him, but she was. Unfortunately.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you approach your desk Zaya is not in today, so it’s pretty calm around your desk, but then you spot someone lingering there.

“Y/N?” Harry sees how shaken you look as you finally reach him at your desk. “A-Are you alright?”

“Hi Harry,” you force a smile out, but you can’t fool anyone with it. “Did we… Do we have a meeting or something?”

“No, I just wanted to show something… Y/N, are you about to cry?””

“N-No,” you shake your head, but your lips are already wobbling and you fail to prove your words right.

“Uh, come on, let’s have a break. Want to come up to the roof?” He gently circles an arm around your shoulders and you let him lead you back to the elevators.

“Roof? We can go out to the roof?” you ask, wiping your tears away.

He doesn’t reply, just makes sure to shield you from the curious eyes as you make your way up to the top of the building. You genuinely didn’t know the roof could be used and when you see Harry push the heavy door open that leads outside you’re guessing it’s not exactly a public spot, but you don’t question it.

It looks just like how a rooftop should look, it’s definitely not open for public use but when Harry leads you over the corner and you see a little bench there, facing the panoramic view, you know you have just found a secret spot.

“Is this where you hide from Steven?” you attempt to joke as you sit down with him.

“Sometimes, yes,” he chuckles. “Not my spot though, I think the janitor comes up here to smoke, but I haven’t run into him yet.”

You sit in silence, Harry gives you time and space to pull yourself together, not rushing you to talk at all and you’re grateful for his patience. Staring ahead at the view you take a few deep breaths, telling yourself not to let Eric’s bullshit get to your head.

“I’m sorry you had to… deal with my tantrum,” you chuckle sadly at last.

“That wasn’t a tantrum,” he smiles softly. “And don’t be sorry, everyone could have a bad day. Want to talk about what happened?”

“I trusted the wrong person,” you purse your lips. “Um, the virus you found on my computer. Someone from the company put it there to fuck up my chances for a promotion I’ve been dreaming of for a long time.”

“What? Are you… are you serious?”

“Yeah and the worst part is that… god, don’t tell anyone, but I’ve been kind of… hooking up with him and he said it was all just to get closer to me.”

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but then ends up closing it, processing what you just told him. You don’t blame him for being lost and confused, it’s a shitshow, to say the least.

“That’s… That’s awful, I’m sorry,” he clears his throat, gently shaking his head.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” you chuckle. “I trusted the wrong person. Learned my lesson,” you shrug, and you wish you could actually end it all in your head with that, but you know it will bother you for a while at least.

“Can I ask who this person is?”

“Eric Sonders.”

“I think… I know him. Didn’t think he could be this… vile.”

“Me neither!” you laugh.

“So… he stole your idea and presentation, so now you have to do something else? And that’s the makeover?”

Nodding you briefly tell him what happened at the meeting, he listens intently and then shakes his head in disapproval, probably just as upset and lost about Eric’s behavior as you are.

“You should report him, this is incredibly unethical and unacceptable.”

“I have no proof. We can’t prove that he did it all to my computer, you said it yourself.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

While Harry is deep in his thoughts you just stare ahead of yourself, doing a short assessment of your current situation. This should have been an exciting, professionally challenging time in your life, working on something that would earn you your promotion, but now, you feel like it’s more out of your reach than ever.

“We’ll make it work,” Harry speaks up, as if he could read your mind. “We can do it.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah. It’s gonna be a tight stretch, but… It’s not impossible.”

“You are truly a life saver for agreeing to do it, Harry. I have no idea what I would do without you.”

He turns to you with a sheepish smile and you notice the slight pink shade on his cheeks as he nods.

“I’m happy to help.”

Part of you knew this would be deadly, but even after expecting the worst, it hits you like a train.

In the next two weeks you feel like you spend every waking moment working on the project with Harry. Sometimes you do it together, sharing ideas, discussing them, sometimes you’re together but work in silence and sometimes you do it apart. Whichever it is, you eat, drink and dream with the new website.

While Harry is taking care of the coding, you do everything else, that means content writing, planning, organizing and also designing. It’s been ages since the last time you designed anything, once upon a time you thought you’d end up in that field, but then somehow marketing came into the picture and now you have to combine your two passions.

It’s destroying you absolutely, but slowly it’s starting to add up and you can see the progress.

On a Friday evening you’re still in the office after seven, practically everyone has left by now, but you’re deep in work with Harry beside you. It's one of those quiet sessions, when you’re working together, but only speak when there’s an issue. Neither of you said anything for about an hour when the silence is interrupted by Harry’s ringing phone.

“Ah, sorry,” he mumbles, jumping in his seat at the sudden noise as he reaches for the phone, checking the caller ID before his eyes go wide. “Oh shit,” he mumbles and you look up at him as he answers the call. “Hey Mitch!”

You hear a voice from the phone, but it’s too muffled for you to make out what they are saying.

“Um, I’m kind of still at the office… No, I didn’t forget!” he protests, but the look on his face clearly tells you he did forget something. “I-I don’t know… Yeah, I’ve been just working with Y/N… No, I won’t– Mitch… No!... Uh, okay…”

He holds the phone away from his ear, covering the mic with a hand as he looks at you with anxious eyes, he looks like a reindeer caught in headlights.

“Um, I forgot I was supposed to meet two of my friends for a few drinks. Is it okay if I leave now?”

“Oh God, of course! Harry, it’s so late, I shouldn’t have kept you here so long.”

“You didn’t keep me,” he chuckles, before the worried look returns to his face. “Actually, would you… I mean only if you want to–So do you maybe… want to come?”

It’s adorable how he stumbles over his own words and you see the familiar pink shade tinting his face again, it’s a color you’ve seen a lot lately and you’ve grown to quite like it.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with your friends.”

“You wouldn’t intrude, I mean, I’m asking because I want you to join, obviously.”

“I-I’ll just go home and work some more, it’s fine–”

“Y/N, we’ve been working all day,” he chuckles. “You deserve some free time as well.”

You think of his words, these two weeks has been so busy you didn’t even do anything else than working and sleeping practically. Some off time would be actually amazing for your fried brain.

“Only if you truly don’t mind,” you say at last.

“Let’s pack then,” he beams with a smile as he shuts his computer down.

Twenty minutes later you’re walking into a bar you’ve never been to, joining Harry’s friends for drinks and though you can’t put your finger on it, but for some reason you feel a bit anxious.

“Hey guys,” Harry waves at a couple sitting in a dimly lit booth. The woman is the first one to look at you with a beaming, bright smile as she slides out and holds her hand out for you.

“Hi! You must be Y/N! I’m Sarah and this is my husband, Mitch,”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you breathe out as you shake hands with Mitch as well.

You’re instantly bombarded with questions from Sarah as you slip into the booth and don’t even notice that Harry leaves and then returns with two drinks.

“Oh, thank you,” you smile at him as he sits beside you.

“So how is the project going?” Mitch speaks up, lazily draping an arm to the back of the seat behind Sarah.

“It’s going good,” Harry hums with a small nod, very humble about how much he has gotten done in just the first week.

“Mostly because of Harry’s hard work,” you add, praising him the way he deserves and it brings back that pink shade to his cheeks.

Sarah and Mitch are very easy to talk to, they seem curious about the projects the two of you are working on and just you in general. You’re having a great time hanging out with them and you feel like you’ve known them for a long time even though you literally just met.

You don’t even notice how time flies by, only when Sarah checks the time and lets Mitch know that they need to be heading home so the babysitter can leave.

“It was really nice meeting you, Y/N. I hope we can do this some other time,” Sarah hugs you.

“If Harry doesn’t mind me interrupting his time with his friends, then I’m in,” you chuckle, looking at the man in question who just shakes his head with a shy smile, letting you know he definitely does not mind.

“Alright, then it’s settled!”

They say their goodbye to Harry as well and suddenly it’s just the two of you in the booth and Harry is noticeably more nervous than before.

“Um, w-we don’t have to stay, if you want to go home, you co–”

“I’m happy to stay, Harry,” you smile at him without hesitation. He seems surprised, but excited at your answer.

You order another round of drinks and with the previous ones already consumed, it seems like Harry is slowly opening up, leaving his shyness behind and you get to have a peek behind his walls. The more you find out about him the more sure you get that he is truly an amazing, brilliant person and you wish you had met him earlier.

Maybe then you wouldn’t have fallen for Eric’s bullshit. Maybe then you would have fallen for him.

The drinks you’ve had don’t actually let it register, but you’re already developing a crush on him. How could you not? He is sweet, caring, smart, very thoughtful, basically the polar opposite of Eric. It’s making you question what you even saw in that asshole, you really put the bar too low.

“Oh shit, it’s already three in the morning,” you chuckle, when you finally check the time. “I should head home, I can’t sleep all day tomorrow,” you sigh, rubbing your face with your hands, realizing just how tired you feel.

“I’ll call an Uber, is it okay if we share one?”

“It’s more than okay,” you smile at him lazily.

Minutes later you’re out in front of the bar, waiting for the ride to arrive. It has gotten significantly chillier, you did not dress for a night out so you’re holding your blazer jacket tight on yourself. When Harry notices he shrugs off his jean jacket without a word and drapes it over your shoulders.

“No, you’ll be cold!” you try to protest, but he shakes his head.

“I have a hoodie in my backpack,” he shrugs and pulls out a black hoodie, putting it on right when a car pulls up in front of you.

“Thank you for inviting me out tonight,” you quietly speak up on the backseat of the Uber, staring at Harry’s dimly lit handsome face. His glasses slid down on the bridge of his nose and you had enough drinks to have the courage to reach out and push them back gently. The gesture seemingly surprised him, but he doesn’t protest, just keeps his eyes focused on you.

“It was nice hanging out with you outside of the office.”

“Now we know we have things to talk about outside of the project,” you chuckle, making him grin as well. “We’re a great duo, Harry.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure about it at first, I have never had to work this closely together with an IT guy and I was afraid I might be too intense for you. But it all turned out so good, I like spending time with you.”

“Really?”

“Is it that surprising?” you chuckle, letting your head fall back and rest on the back of the seat. “You’re a cool guy, Harry Styles. And very handsome.”

The last comment rolls off your tongue before you could bite it back and though it’s too dark to see it, you just know he is all blushed. Before any of you could speak up, the car comes to a stop, you’ve arrived at your building. Harry gets out of the car with you and walks you up to the door.

“See you on monday?” he shyly kicks the dust, hands in his pockets.

“Yeah. Thanks for tonight,” you repeat yourself and there’s a heartbeat of silence where you feel that moment.

You probably should not be feeling this way, not after getting yourself burnt so bad, but you can’t help it. You want to kiss Harry and for a split second you believe he wants to do the same. His eyes flicker down to your lips and you move just a tiny bit closer to him, time stands still and just when you think he’ll do it, he clears his throat and steps back.

“Good night, Y/N,” he mumbles nodding before he walks back to the car.

You stand there, feeling stupid as you blink after him before snapping out of your trance, forcing yourself to walk inside. As you take a quick shower and get ready to bed you get into a spiral.

First of all you’re such a needy idiot for jumping from one man to the other. You should not be looking at men at all after Eric and yet here you are, crushing on yet another coworker of yours, what is wrong with you?!

And second, why were you expecting him to kiss you? You’ve barely known each other for a few weeks and Harry is a reasonable man, he is probably not at all like you, he probably doesn’t want to get involved with a coworker especially not you. Some signs were giving you a feeling that he might have liked you more than just a friend, but you must have totally misread him.

You have to control yourself and not scare him away, especially since he is doing you a huge favor, the last thing you want to do is to make him uncomfortable.

Harry hasn’t stopped thinking about you all weekend. Specifically about that moment in front of your apartment building where he would have sworn he felt you were expecting him to kiss you, but he couldn’t do it. Not when you were clearly intoxicated.

He didn’t want you to think he would ever take advantage of you like that.

The next week starts oddly. He gets some extra tasks and you get involved in another project as well, so you can’t work together like last week. Monday and then Tuesday rushes by without the two of you meeting. By Wednesday Harry is craving to see you again and it seems like it’s finally happening, because you don’t cancel your morning meeting. He arrives in a good mood with coffee for you and him, excited to show you everything he finished in the past days.

But then he can feel the change in you when you walk in.

You seem off, but at first he can’t tell why. You’re not your bubbly self, you seem very closed off and oddly professional compared to the times the two of you met earlier. Harry tries to tell himself it’s nothing serious, but the more time you spend together the more obvious it’s getting and he can’t take it anymore.

“Y/N?” he quietly asks at the end of the meeting. “Is everything alright?”

“Sure,” you nod, but it’s like as if you didn’t even believe it yourself.

“Did… Did I do something that upset you?”

“Nope, I just…” You sigh, giving up the facade you’ve been trying hard to keep up. “Listen, about Friday, I’m very sorry, Harry.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“I feel like I overstepped a line and made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry about that. If I made you uncomfortable. I want us to work well together and my unfiltered mouth was not at all professional that night, so I’m really sorry about that.”

Harry is blinking at you, confused and lost about what you truly meant by all that. He did not see this coming and now he has no idea how to react other than just looking at you with a startled expression.

“Can we just go back to where we were before that?”

“Where… I don’t-I mean, um…”

“Let’s just forget about when we parted ways, please?”

“So… Uh, yeah,” he at last nods, trying his best to mask his disappointment. He thought there might be something more between the two of you, but this conversation is proof that you just had too many drinks and you didn’t mean any of it.

“Thank you so much,” you breathe out in relief. “I wouldn’t want to ruin our work together.”

Harry nods silently and doesn’t ask more about it.

He is trying hard to hide his disappointment and part of home wants to know if you felt even the slightest spark on Friday or it was all just the alcohol, but he is not one to dig into things that might end him up in an awkward situation. He just swallows it all down and pulls his walls up again.

You can feel a bitter taste in your mouth as well after your talk with Harry. Something felt off, but you can’t put your finger on it and soon you have something else to worry about.

You’re surprised to see Eric chatting with Zaya when you return to your desk. Your intern, bless her heart, is trying to keep a straight and professional face but you can tell she wants to scream at the man who definitely thinks he is charming the young girl with his small talk.

“Eric? What are you doing here?” you ask, biting your tongue so you don’t tell him to leave and fuck himself.

“Hey, can we talk? Privately?”

You look at Zaya and her eyes tell you what she thinks: it’s the literal worst idea ever. And you want to say no to him, but judging from his antics lately he would somehow use it against you so you don’t have much of a choice.

“Sure,” you mumble and the two of you take an empty meeting room. “So?”

“Look, I want to apologize.”

What? Is he for real? That was unexpected.

“My behavior was uncalled for and very unprofessional.”

“Do you mean the way you stole my idea and presentation or the way you talked to me when I confronted you about it?”

“Can you not attack me, please?” he gives you a look that would have put you in place before, but now it just annoys you. He is trying to make you be the one in the wrong and you want to snap at him for still being such an ass, but you want to be the bigger person and stay professional. No matter how much you hate him, you’re still colleagues.

“Go on,” you sigh, folding your arms over your chest.

“I know I can’t change the past but I think it's best if we deal with it in a decent way.”

How noble of him, pulling the rug from underneath you and then acting like he is this decent, peaceful man who just wants to work together. You want to throw up, but you swallow it back and force a smile onto your face.

“Sure, of course,” you tell him.

Seemingly Eric is satisfied with the work he did, but he is so tone deaf it hurts. He smiles nodding and heads out of the room with you behind him.

“Great talk!” he enthuses before walking away.

Zaya turns to you with wide eyes and you just shake your head.

“He wanted to apologize, though he didn’t really succeed, but I feel like it doesn’t matter to him,” you shrug as you sit behind your desk.

“You’re not forgiving him, right?”

“Of course not,” you scoff. “But we’re still colleagues, I can’t keep up the beef, it’s too tiring. I’ll just ignore his existence.”

You don’t think much of Eric’s ridiculous attempt to make peace, you keep your focus on your own project.

There’s a bit of awkwardness between you and Harry after your little talk, but you feel like with time it eases and you write it off as just him not fond of situations like the one you put him into on Friday.

Thursday afternoon the two of you are having another session together, working on some details he’s been trying to figure out himself, but he needs your input to finish them as well. It turns into brainstorming which results in a bunch of new things you want to include, but it will also add more work to your plate.

“I’m really sorry I always just keep adding new stuff to your load,” you sigh, truly feeling like you’re constantly overstepping boundaries, but Harry just shakes his head.

“I’m excited about these all. These are great functions and I’m looking forward to writing the code.”

“That sounded so nerdy,” you chuckle, but notice that Harry’s smile has disappeared.

“Sorry.”

“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s great, I love it when someone is so passionate about something. I love it when you get deep into the tech talk. I think it’s amazing how much you know about these stuff.”

“But you can always just tell me to shut up, I know a lot of people don’t like it when I talk like that,” he mumbles, noticeably avoiding looking you in the eyes.

“Has… someone told you not to talk about programming?”

“Um…” He shifts uncomfortably and you’re about to tell him he doesn’t need to answer, but then he speaks up. “My ex girlfriend hated it when I talked about IT stuff,” he shrugs, but you can tell it’s something he struggled with.

You can’t imagine ever telling him to stop talking about something that brings him this much joy. It’s clear this is his element and any woman that would try to restrain it is an idiot and can’t appreciate how wonderful this man is.

You watch him quietly finish up on his computer before he starts to shut it down and you know you have to say something.

“She did not deserve you.”

He blinks at you surprised so you continue.

“Anyone who wants you to stop talking about something that makes you happy is not a person you want in your life, Harry, I hope you know that.”

“Uh… thank you,” he mumbles, that lovely pink shade taking over his face once again.

“You can always talk tech with me. I like listening to it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It amazes me, because I know nothing about it.” And it’s really hot, you want to add, but then bite your tongue.

There’s a tiny smile on his pink lips and you can tell this moment matters to him more than you could imagine and you’re glad you could make him happy like that.

“D-Do you want to grab something to eat?” he suggests as the two of you head out of the meeting room.

“That sounds great! I’m starving!” you groan. “Let me just grab my bag from my desk.

Harry nods and follows you, he already has his backpack with him. You’re musing about what you should have and Harry is telling you about this amazing bagel place he loves when you spot the familiar figure near your desk.

“Eric, what are you doing here?” you ask, but you’re tempted to phrase your words differently, because it’s quite obvious he was snooping around your desk, not expecting you to show up after office hours.

“Y/N, hi! I was just… I thought I left some papers here the other day,” he clears his throat, stepping away from your desk.

“You had no papers with you,” you simply say, knowing well something is off with him.

“Maybe I remembered wrong,” he chuckles. “Alright, see you later,” he waves and then leaves quickly before you could ask any more questions.

“What was that about?” Harry asks as you launch at your desk, checking what might have changed.

“He was looking for something. He is trying to play me again,” you hiss through your teeth, frantically examining what he could have put his hands on, but you see nothing out of place. But then you realize that he must have thought you left your laptop, that’s what he was looking for. “Oh my God,” you gasp, quickly starting your laptop to see if there is anything wrong with it.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Harry, can you, uhh—Can you check if there is anything wrong with my laptop?” you plead as he rounds your desk and sits nodding, though he is a tad bit lost about what’s happening.

“Like, check if there’s another virus, or something?”

“Yes. I think he was trying to tamper with it again, I can’t know for sure if he hasn’t touched it earlier.”

You knew his half-assed apology was tactic, but you didn’t think he would do it all over again. Eric really isn’t the person you thought him to be.

You watch Harry type away on your computer, anxiously waiting for him to say anything and in the meanwhile you’re planning how you’ll get rid of Eric the moment you finally get your well-deserved promotion. There’s no way you’re letting a snake like him work at the company.

“I don’t see anything,” Harry finally leans back and you exhale in relief.

“I can’t let it out of my sight from now on,” you grumble, shaking your head.

In this moment you feel like you’re running out of energy, all because you trusted the wrong person. Feeling defeated you collapse into Zaya’s chair, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Harry softly says, as if he could read your mind.

“I’m in this situation because I made all the worst choices. I can’t blame anyone else but myself.”

“You couldn’t have known this is how it would turn out to be.”

“I know, but…”

“No but. Just… You know what? I’ll install an extra security program on your laptop so only you can access it, alright?”

“Really?” you sit up straight.

“Yeah, just give me a few moments.”

He gets down to work, works his magic and a minute later he is explaining to you what he got set up on your laptop to secure it.

“Harry, I owe you so much at this point,” you sigh in relief when it sinks in that Eric will not get his hands on your things again. “I have no idea how I will be able to pay you back.”

You notice a slight shift in him as he clears his throat, looking at you nervously.

“About that… I-I think I know h-how–I mean I thought about what… you could…”

“You know what you want in return?” you perk up, happy to do something for Harry after everything he did for you.

“Y-you can say no, it’s okay, I just–Um…”

“Harry, whatever it is, my answer is gonna be yes,” you chuckle, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He looks at your hand and then up to your eyes before finally speaking up.

“Go on a date… with me?”

Harry has been working up the courage to ask you all day, but he didn’t think he would have the balls to say it out loud. Sarah and Mitch urged him to shoot his shot, even after the kind of awkward conversation you had earlier. His friends were convinced you were into him regardless, but he’s been struggling to believe it himself.

It was kind of random he blurted it out, but now it’s been said and he is about to faint, waiting for your response. You’re staring back at him, eyebrows slightly raised, lips parted, but no words have left your mouth since his question.

“Y-You don’t have to, I-I understand–I mean, it’s–”

“Harry,” you cut him off. “I would love to go on a date with you,” you finally tell him and it feels like a stone has been lifted off his shoulders, his heart is about to jump out of his chest any moment.

“But I won’t take it as your payment,” you add and now it’s his turn to be surprised.

“What?” he breathes out, not sure what to make of your words.

“I would never take it as a payment, because I would go on a date with you regardless, Harry. Think of something else and we will have the date as well.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” you chuckle.

“Okay, alright, um… then… it’s a date!”

Harry is late.

He promised to be there at the meeting room on time to support you and answer any tech related questions that might come up in connection with your presentation. Eric is now presenting his (your) idea, he has added some features to it since he stole the whole thing, but it’s still mainly yours.

“Thank you very much for your attention,” he nods as he finishes his talk and the board claps shortly before it’s your turn to stand in front of them.

You’re plugging your laptop together with the projector when the door of the meeting room opens and Harry’s head pops inside. Relief washes over you as you watch him apologize for his late arrival and take a seat. Your gaze meets his and he smiles at you sweetly, holding his thumb up for you as you load the presentation. Now you feel braver, knowing he is here to support you.

You desperately wish you could read minds as you go on with your presentation. You’re met with mostly blank faces, but they were the same during Eric’s presentation as well, so you can’t tell what they are thinking about. It’s going smoothly, you rehearsed it a million times instead of sleeping in the past few days and when it’s time for questions you ace all of them, even the few tech ones. You’ve spent so much time with Harry that you can easily give an answer to everything at this point.

“Thank you for your attention,” you nod smiling at the end and disconnect your laptop from the projector, walking back to Harry.

“You did amazing,” he smiles at you proudly and his approval means the most to you.

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry I was late, I had to take care of something.”

“It’s okay. I’m just happy you’re here.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it.” The CEO stands up and all heads turn in his direction.

“Thank you for the presentations, I would like to ask the candidates to leave the room so we can vote.”

You gather all your stuff and head out with Harry by your side. Eric ignores your existence, as if he didn’t lie and cheat his way to this moment, but you’re not stressing yourself anymore about it.

You definitely believe in karma.

“You’ve got this,” Harry smiles at you softly and your heart melts at his expression.

You’re planning to have your date tonight. It’s gonna be either a ‘you’ve got the promotion, now let’s celebrate with our date’ occasion or ‘you didn’t get the promotion so let’s cheer you up with a date’, you’re fine with both, truly. You know you put everything you had into this promotion and if they still decide not to choose you, that’s their loss and your sign to move on.

You’re beyond excited about your date. There’s been an obvious change in your dynamic since Harry has asked you out, there are more glances, little touches, compliments and some very apparent sexual tension that’s still within the lines of comfort, it’s not too hard to control yourself, but you keep noticing more and more things about him that are pulling you towards him.

“I will miss our little work session,” you smile back at him shyly.

“Little? They usually lasted hours,” he chuckles, making you laugh too.

“Loved them all,” you shrug and the look on his face tells you he did too.

The board takes some time to make their decision and when the door opens fifteen minutes later your heart skips a beat. The CEO asks you all to return to the room and you take your previous seat, Harry sitting next to you. His hand brushes against your knee shortly and you look at him, your gaze meeting his as he gives you an encouraging smile.

“Thank you all for these amazing presentations, we were very pleased with the plans and projects,” the CEO starts as he stands at the head of the table. “We had no doubt you two are the best applicants for the position and it’s been hard to decide who to choose, but at last we made a decision.”

Oh God, you’re about to throw up. Is it you? Is it Eric? You hope you won’t cry. That could happen in either case, but you really don’t want to cry in front of all these people.

“The person we chose to fulfill the position is…” His eyes scan over the both of you as you hold your breath and then it finally lands on you. “Y/N Y/L/N. Congratulations.”

And just like that, your lungs fill with air again and it feels like a rock has been lifted off your shoulders.

“I told you,” you hear Harry beside you and when you look at him you see pride all over his face and you can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around his neck to hug him.

“Thank you, it wouldn’t have happened without you,” you mumble as you squeeze him tight before letting go of him, going up to the board to shake hands.

At first you don’t even process it, but then Eric’s voice hits your ear and you realize he is turning red across the table, complaining nonstop about the outcome.

“...The whole thing was so fucking out of the blue! Redesigning the whole website? That’s like suicide!...”

You don’t even have the chance to react to his comments, the CEO speaks up for everyone.

“Y/N’s idea is daring, innovative and brave, just what we need. We don’t want to play it safe and your idea was definitely in the safe zone.”

“His idea,” you scoff under your breath.

“Actually, there is something I would like to show you, if you have a few more minutes,” Harry speaks up as he starts his laptop and moves over to where the board is. You’re watching him completely puzzled.

“There’s been an unfortunate incident about the presentations. Y/N’s original idea was stolen, a virus has been planted on her computer to cover up the deed, but I could not recover enough information about the perpetrator to make accusations, that was until a few days ago.”

What?!

You see Eric’s red face turn completely white as Harry types away on his computer and then shows something to the board. They curiously eye the alleged proof as Harry continues.

“Proof could be only found on the perpetrator’s device and a few days ago I had access to Eric’s computer when he brought it in for a check up, since it’s been working too slow. As expected and told, I make a full check on every device in these cases and found unquestionable proof that Eric stole Y/N’s presentation through the virus.”

Oh lord.

You watch as everyone on the board processes what they see on Harry’s computer and you can feel the switch in them towards Eric.

“Eric, let’s have a chat in my office. Now,” the CEO says and it’s definitely an order and Eric doesn’t try to go against it, just nods and follows him out of the room.

“Harry, why didn’t you tell me you were planning to do this?!” you ask as you rush up to him. The board members are leaving the meeting room, leaving the two of you alone.

“I uh– I wanted it to be a surprise. Eric showed up at the IT department the other day and I got his case without him knowing so I could snoop around. Found the evidence right away so I thought the board should know what he did.”

“Why did you wait until they announced who got the promotion? This could have kicked him out of the contest right away.”

“I knew you’d get it,” he smiles shyly. “I had no doubt they would choose you, I wanted you to experience defeating him after what he did to you.”

To say you’re touched is an understatement. He didn’t just help you immensely to get this promotion, but also went out of his way to serve you justice. He has done more for you than anyone ever.

You just know you can’t let the moment pass and ignoring the fact that you’re still at work, though no one is around to see, you close the distance between the two of you and press your lips against his.

This kiss has been hanging there for a while and you’d be lying if you said you have never fantasized about what it would be like to kiss Harry, but reality is a thousand times more magical. His lips are soft and warm, go so well with yours and once his first wave of shock passes he finally returns it and you melt in his arms.

You had a feeling Harry was a great kisser, but the way he claims your lips just blows your mind. He is sweet and gentle but also demanding at the same time and if only you weren’t in the office you’d pretty much jump into his arms and let him do whatever he wants to you.

Somewhere in the distance a phone rings and it breaks the spell, making you realize that you shouldn’t get carried away.

“Sorry,” you smile, your lips barely just an inch away from his still. “I got… I just–Thank you. For everything you did for me.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he returns your smile and pecks your lips shortly one more time. “And I will always be here to support you.”

You might look like a lunatic as you watch the guy on the other side of the glass door of your office finish up the sign on the door.

Y/N Y/L/N, Head Of Digital Marketing.

God, you still can’t have enough of the sound of it even though you got the promotion two months ago. Okay, the first month you spent in your old job, teaching the ropes for your successor before you could start your transition into your new position.

Now it’s official and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Checking the time you sit back to your computer to finish up work for the day. It’s been one hell of a week, you’ve worked overtime three times so it’s great that today is finally Friday. You answer some more emails and check your calendar for the next week, making sure everything is settled.

There’s a soft knock on the door and when you look up your heart skips a beat, seeing Harry walk in, his backpack on one shoulder.

“Hey. Are you done?”

“Just one moment,” you smile and he nods, walking over to the window, patiently waiting for you to finish everything up.

When you turn the computer off and look up at him, you notice that he is staring at you already.

“What?” you ask, packing up.

“Nothing, just… you look so pretty.”

You still haven’t gotten used to his compliments, though they always just keep on coming and coming. You love them.

And you love him.

Walking over to him you wrap your arms around his waist as you steal a kiss. Usually you try to keep the PDA out of the office, but sometimes he is just too hard to resist. Like now.

You’ve been officially a couple for two months, your first date after your big presentation was like a dream, Harry took you to all of his favorite spots in the city and then you just spent hours stargazing on the roof of his apartment’s building, he had a whole setup with a mattress, blankets and pillows, it was the sweetest thing ever, the best way to celebrate your win. Since then, it’s been endless dates, movie nights, trips on the weekend, you’ve been kind of inseparable. Well, outside of the office, because you try your best to stay professional at work.

“What was that for?” he chuckles softly, his cheeks have that soft pink shade on them that you just want to kiss all over.

“I’m just happy. That’s it.” Reaching up you fix his glasses before taking a step back and heading out.

Usually you just walk side by side to the elevator, but today you feel extra upbeat, so when you step into the elevator you gently take his hand and lace it together with yours and you can’t help but smile every time you’re in here with Harry.

Because he told you this is where he saw you for the very first time that day you overslept before your disastrous presentation. He was the one who held the elevator’s door for you. You were so disoriented that you didn’t notice him then and he likes to tease you about it, saying that he knew that moment he was into you, all while you didn’t even look at him. In return, you always bring up how you were the one kissing him for the first time.

It’s crazy to think how much has happened between those two things or even between that morning and today. He was the quiet IT genius who you dragged into your madness. He is still a genius, but you’ve gotten to know the sides of him others can’t see and you love all of them, it just took you some time to open him up. To decode him.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

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