#well that's what my boss said but apparently i'm still doing shit wrong!

[miley1442111]

hii love ur content!!! single-handedly carrying sydney adamu x reader fans rn LOL. was wondering if u could write something w femreader x syd where reader is filling in for marcus as he takes personal leave for his mom? like something with buildup and clear romantic tension in the kitchen btwn them and possible hesitation to act on it from syd’s end when they work together but immediately get tg afterwards ?? if you get the vision!! thank uuu <3333

thank you for requesting this, i love this idea so i'm going to give it two parts if that's ok!

i will always push the sydney adamu x reader agenda

in a minute- s.adamu

a/n: this is PART 1 of most likely two but i'm not sure yet. this is intended for a femreader but you can ignore that and imagine what you want :)

summary: you get a call from carmen berzatto to fill in as a pastry chef, you have nothing better to do, right?

pairing: sydney adamu x reader

warnings: mentions of a difficult workplace environment, mentions of verbal abuse, mentions of not communicating, cursing

Getting the call from Carmen Berzatto made you sick. He was your replacement in New York, he hated you, at least you thought he did. You were leaving New York for Paris, becoming a pastry chef after being sick of the stupid pressure and disgusting abuse you had gotten from restaurants over the years. Don’t get me wrong, being a pastry chef was difficult too, the insufferable people and bosses made you want to rip your hair out, but anything was better than New York. You had trained Carmen for a week, giving him your number in case he needed to ask any other questions. You assumed he’d deleted it. But no, four months into living in Chicago, teaching masterclasses and subbing in for people in various Michelin-star restaurants and bakeries, Carmen Berzatto called and asked if you could cover his pastry chef for a few weeks. You agreed and showed up the next day to see a restaurant that was not yet finished. Residue from walls lay on the floor, mould on the ceilings and an empty kitchen, bare of appliances met your eyes as you walked in. A pretty girl with headphones in stood in the locker room as you turned the corner and she startled when she noticed you. 

“Jesus! Y-you scared me,” she smiled, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” you smiled, stretching out your hand for a hand shake. “I’m y/n y/l/n, is Carmen Berzatto here? Or his partner, Sydney Adamu?”

“Oh my god, you’re Y/n y/ln. Like the only woman ever the International Union of Bakers and Pastry Chefs named ‘best pastry chef’,” she said, shocked that you were standing in front of her. 

You felt heat crawl up your back. You still couldn’t get used to people knowing who you were, it was strange. “The very same,” you practically grimaced. “So, are chefs Carmen or Sydney around?”

“I-I’m Sydney,” she smiled, shaking your hand. “Sorry if that was weird, I just… yeah.”

“It’s fine, I’m just awkward about it, don’t worry.”

“Ok,” she smiled, then snapped out of it. “What are you- I don’t know how to say this politely-”

“What am I doing here?” you finished for her and she nodded. “Carmen called me a few days ago, I trained him in New York and he apparently still has my number. He asked me to fill in for Marcus?” 

“Yeah, ok. So… umm, yeah ok. That’s cool,” She said, still coming to grips with it. 

“He didn’t tell you?” 

“No,” she admitted, sighing. 

“He always was kind of a dick. Don’t worry, I bet he’s just cooling-off or something, he used to get so angry we’d shove him in the freezer for a few minutes to let him calm down.”

Sydney looked at you in bewilderment. 

“I take it that he’s still like that?” you chuckled. 

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Only sometimes though.”

“‘Sometimes’ is too much for me, if he starts pulling that shit I’ll send him out. He’s such a baby sometimes,” you reminisced. “Sorry, if that’s rude since he’s your partner.”

“Well, he doesn’t really feel like a partner,” she sighed, leading you to the office. 

“Not communicating?”

“Never. I didn’t even know we were pulling down walls until they were down.”

“Shit, that’s awful,” you sighed. 

“I’ll call him and see where he is, just wait in here,” she smiled and opened the door for you, then left you alone. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

WEEK 1

Working at the Bear was different to anywhere else you’d worked. The people there were interesting in a way that only people outside of the Michelin-restaurant world could be. None of the bullshit you’d dealt with in New York, none of the crap you had to put up with in Paris. They were professional, but they cared about each other. Tina had become a good friend in only the one week you’d been there. Richie was pissing you off enough to warrant stabbing- something that had apparently happened before, and Carmen was either there all the time, or nowhere to be seen. 

And then, there was Sydney. Sydney had essentially fucked you up. From the moment you’d met her, you knew you were fucked. Her soft smile and endearing awkwardness made her basically irresistible. It was embarrassing how in just one week, you felt like you couldn’t be in the same room as her, yet you craved to be near her all the time. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Yo, you good?’ Sydney asked as you mapped out dessert ideas Marcus had sent you.

“Huh? Oh-yeah, all good,” you smiled.

“How do you like it?” she asked, cleaning the new silverware. 

“Like what?”

“The Bear?”

“It’s nice. Calmer than the restaurants I’ve worked in,” you answered and she laughed.

“This is calm for you?” 

“You should’ve seen Carmen and I’s boss in New York. Every night he’d make me stay until after closing, fixing any mistakes I’d made if I’d made any. After a while, it was just verbal abuse,” you chuckled and she smiled half-heartedly at you, her eyes missing the certain glow she usually had. 

“Sounds fun,” she joked, but it fell flat on both ends, then she walked away. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d made a fool of yourself, or made her uncomfortable. 

You internally kicked yourself. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

WEEK 2

You liked to pride yourself on two things, your standards in the kitchen, and your ability to stay calm under any circumstance. One of those didn’t apply to the current situation, and the other had been thrown out the window 3 minutes ago when this conversation started, more specifically, when Sydney started touching your arm. 

Carmen had finally come in and you’d gotten in a fight over the menu. You wanted something Marcus had suggested and Carmen wanted fucking fig rolls or something, you didn’t exactly know but you do know that it ended in you storming off to the back of the Bear and Carmen storming off to his office. You felt a swell in your heart when Sydney had come to you first, before she went to talk to Carmen. 

“You good?” she asked, accompanying you in the freezing air. You didn’t respond, still annoyed from the conversation. “Earth to Y/n?” Sydney had grabbed your arm and your eyes trained themselves on hers. 

“Yeah, just pissed,” you sighed, answering her first question. “He really doesn’t listen, does he?” You yawned. Sydney’s hand felt like it was burning itself into your skin. 

“No, he kind of refuses to,” she joked. “But if it makes you feel any better, I like your ideas more.”

“They’re Marcus’s ideas, just my drawings,” you were quick to deflect the compliment.

“Well they're beautiful,” she declared, with some uncertain meaning behind her words. ‘Well, you’re beautiful’ is what you picked up from her insinuation and your heart beat much faster than before. “Coming back in?” She dropped her hand and you finally let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“In a minute.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

WEEK 3 

Ok, so maybe you could pride yourself on just one more thing, the effect you had on Sydney. 

For the past two weeks, it’d been fleeting glances, the creating and taking of opportunities to touch each other, and small flirty conversation. Sydney had asked you to taste test some restaurants with her, and you had a great time. Conversation flowed, you felt relaxed for the first time in what felt like years, and you were spending time with the girl you liked. 

“Y/N?” You heard Sydney’s voice from behind you. “Behind!” she said. 

You had asked an old friend if you could borrow his restaurant's kitchen and he obliged, knowing he owed you a favour from when you saved him from being fired 7 years ago. 

“Yeah?” You called back, focused on your plating. 

“You almost done?”

“Almost,” you added the finishing touches to the plate and stepped back, a silent victory. It looked delicious. “Done!”

She handed you a fork and you took a bite at the same time. It tasted… terrible. You both spit it out into the sink behind you, then looked at each other and laughed. 

“That is god-awful,” you coughed, a laugh making its way out of your mouth.  

“Oh fuck that’s bad,” she laughed with you, a hand on your shoulder to brace herself. 

Both your laughters died down and her hand remained. She looked so beautiful, her hair pulled back in a blue bandana, her regular chef-white swapped for a green t-shirt and white overalls, and a smile on her face. You seized the moment and kissed her, it started out soft, cautious. Though it quickly divulged into something less sweet. Her tongue was in your mouth and your hands were roaming her waist. She gasped when you bit her lip and you smirked into the kiss. A buzzing noise pulled you two apart, heavy breathing and an uncomfortable stare of ‘what did we just do?’. You grabbed your buzzing phone, bag, and jacket, and left her in the restaurant. 

Was it the coward’s way out? Yes. Did that matter much to you? No. 

Not one bit.

[thepixelelf]

do u know nct?? if so, jung jaehyun and cupid au?!!! if not then au where wonwoo is a regular dude and also the subject of a Prophecy against his best wishes? idk i hope these are fun!!!

I genuinely don't think I could characterize jung jaehyun if I tried... but I can do reluctant Normal Guy wonwoo!! I hope you like it :]

[mr chosen one] It's been three weeks and six days since Wonwoo met the most annoying person in the world. Three weeks and six days since Wonwoo's been able to relax. Three weeks and six days of your constant pestering.

You call yourself the oracle. Whatever the hell that means.

All Wonwoo knows is that you showed up at his workplace out of nowhere as the "social media manager". Why would a company that sells Tupperware need a social media manager? Wonwoo still doesn't know. He's pretty sure you just wormed your way in to complete your life's mission-- annoying the shit out of him.

The first day, you'd leaned into his cubicle and whispered, "Hey. You're Jeon Wonwoo, right?"

And when he hesitantly nodded, wondering how the hell you already knew his name since he was one hundred percent sure he'd have nothing to do with the company's social media, you beamed.

Smiled so bright he thought he might go blind, and said, "I knew I'd find you."

Ever since that first day, you've been telling him over and over again how he's supposed to save the world.

Step number 1: find the king -- whoever that is -- in the heart of the fire.

You haven't told him who the hell "the king" is because apparently, you don't even know. And the whole "heart of the fire" thing is fuzzy to you as well, even though you're the one who said that out loud in the first place.

Step number 2: behead the king.

Yeah. Sure.

"And where am I supposed to get the sword for that?" he asked you nonchalantly a week into your nonsense, his eyes not leaving the spreadsheet he was working on. "Amazon?"

You just shrugged. "You can get anything on Amazon."

Step number 3: bear the crown under the weight of stars.

Whatever that means.

"You can't just say no," you asserted two weeks in. "This is your fate."

"I'm good, thanks." Wonwoo poured himself a mediocre black coffee in the break room, where he'd gone in the hopes of avoiding you. He didn't offer you any.

You crossed your arms. "The world is at stake."

"If the whole world is about to explode, I'm pretty sure you've got the wrong guy."

Almost four weeks of this weirdness, and maybe Wonwoo should've gone to HR by now, but it sounds a little trivial, even to him.

Hey, HR, my coworker keeps telling me I'm part of a world-saving prophecy and is convinced I need to go on a journey. I want either for them to be fired, or a couple weeks off so I can go save the world. Thanks.

Yeah, no. Instead, Wonwoo just braces himself for another day of your pestering.

...Which doesn't happen.

At the halfway point of the first peaceful lunch break Wonwoo's had in weeks, he realizes he hasn't even caught a glimpse of you all morning. He revels in that feeling for a bit, almost embarrassingly gleeful to sit in silence and eat his cup-a-noodles.

Then the afternoon goes by, and you've still yet to meet your annoyance quota for the day.

Wonwoo is happy. Yes. This is good news.

You've finally gotten over your delusions, and he won't have to deal with you anymore.

He's poking his head in Seungkwan's cubicle before he realizes he's doing it.

"Oh, them?" Seungkwan says when Wonwoo asks about you. "They left. They told big boss man we had no reason to employ a social media manager in the first place and got themselves transferred to a sister company."

Wonwoo blinks. "What?"

"Shouldn't you already know? You guys were hanging out like every day."

After that, Wonwoo walks back to his desk in silence. Awkward silence.

Why doesn't he like the silence?

When he sits down, there's a yellow sticky note on his keyboard, which he swears wasn't there when he left.

He wouldn't recognize your handwriting, but he knows it has to be yours.

Fine. I'll behead the king myself.

Wonwoo pinches the note between his fingers, and he remembers the conversation he had with you just the day before.

"It sounds dangerous," he said, focusing on the photocopier in front of him.

"Oh, it will be." You were leaned against the doorjamb. Always close by. "You'll be dodging death at every curve in the road."

"Delightful. I think I'll sit this one out."

The note gets crumpled in Wonwoo's fist. He grabs his coat and takes swift steps toward the elevators.

"Where are you going?" Seungkwan calls out when he sees Wonwoo practically run past his cubicle.

Wonwoo presses the down button before he rethinks and moves to the doors to the stairwell. He yells back, "I have no idea!"

He really doesn't.

But you said all that stuff about fate-- if it's really meant to be him that saves the world...

His footsteps, in whichever direction, will take him to you. Through fate or whatever.

At least, he really, really hopes so.

[lutawolf]

The 8th Sense ep 9

I'm going to hang on to the image above by bl-bam-beyond to get me through what I'm sure is to be a roller coaster.

Deep Breath... Okay Lets Do This!!!

I FUCKING LOVE THIS THERAPIST!!! That deep sigh when she says, "okay, work on yourself first." Because she knows there is no other choice. Because emotional fucking damage. I get this so much. I love you, lady.

"And when you're ready, think about what you want to do next." "I want to protect him." Sometimes love is selfless, and sometimes it's selfish. Sometimes they are a little bit of both. Here, we have someone who just wants the person they love to be safe. Not comprehending that sometimes it's better to have love than be safe.

I love bestie so much. Even though I feel an overwhelming need to smack that food out of his mouth, so I can hear him. Even if I'm just reading subtitles. I make no damn sense but there ya go.

I will say that Jae Won makes sense to Ji Hyun which is why they are simply meant to be. Even if I feel the urge to knock some mother fucking sense into everyone.

Haha, bestie over here throwing out words like narcissistic. I won't even correct him because he is funny. Apparently it's not common sense, cause you used it wrong. Still love you though boo.

I freaking love the trio so much! They are adorable. And you can't convince me otherwise. Oh lawd, he just now thought about his painful past.

Well... At least he is pretty, and he gets it now. So. 👀👀👀 And he has solid friends. Fighting! Then bestie goes and thrusts the dagger in. Damn.

Oh, this is going to be a tough scene to watch, isn't it. Those sitting next to each other talking about the incident.

Noooo!!! Him reaching out to hold his hand is gutting me.

Guys!!! Not gonna lie, I was literally holding my breath while I waited for him to go to her. Damn, that was painful. I mean, he isn't so good at it, but he is trying right. That's what matters. Ji Hyun come back and show this clueless boy how it's done!

Fuck, I hate her. She makes me want to gag every time I see her. I want to punch her in the face every time she says Oppa.

Nooooooooooo SHE DIDN'T!

Nope... I'm not okay. Everyone else can forgive. I am not in the forgiveness business. Guess I'll be the odd one out. He wanted to protect him, and then he does that. Yeah… Did that look like protection to you, do, and then you have the ability to be nice to her afterward. To not immediately go after that baby boy. Yeah, fuck this. Guess I'm gonna be the unpopular opinion here.

I love his bestie so much. Ji Hyun, you have the best bestie ever. I have mixed feelings on seeing Jae Won. I'm petty and I don't like to see him happy when he hurt Ji Hyun yet on the other side, maybe it means he is taking his fucking meds and getting his head on straight.

Oh, the look in his eyes when Ji Hyun just left. Then a deep swallow. You deserved that bitch. You really did.

Now that's unselfish love. Even believing that it's all ended. That the cunt won. He doesn't push but lets him know he supports him.

I mean... Didn't you do the same thing to Ji Hyun minus the sex. You didn't even break up officially before being back with her. Shit, I don't even know why I'm bothering to type anymore. I'm sure people have stopped reading at this point.

Shit, doesn't that sound familiar. "I apologize, I was out of my mind." I swear to god if I don't see some growth in this boy.

Oh, the boss knows. Dude, I love her. Okay, I'm pissed at you dude, but that was funny. "I'm here to eat, not listen to a fortune-teller."

OMG! I FUCKING LOVE HER!

"I can't seem to organize my life." "Then organize it." I don't know how many times I've said this. You know what the problem is, now start working towards a solution instead of sitting there and not doing anything about it. I can only help so much, eventually you've got to help yourself. "I feel like things got screwed up big time and I don't know where to begin to fix it."

Shit hit him! Oh, thank you baby Jezebel she hit him! I knew I was in love with her! Oh, I really love her. Knock some motherfucking sense into him!

There ya go. You only live once. Are you finally hearing people, asshole.

Oh! My little button nose. Isn't that just love. Love is forgiveness. For the people who deserve, who support you, and you want to be beside you. Love is forgiveness.

gif by @bl-bam-beyond

I love the song playing in the background of the kiss. Life is complicated and messy, grab your happiness where you can.

For those who read this. Thank you! 💜💜💜

[peachyteabuck]

Thanks for the advice. I'm definitely gonna try and stay as long as I can, because I literally can't afford to just quit sadly in this economy. What's funny is that we have no management, literally no one above us just our boss. I was told the treatment here and what goes on is just how a family business is. Well I'm never fucking working for a family business ever again lmao idc. The only reason I'm staying is yes to pay my rent and to not be forced to live with my mother because I'll literally end up homeless if I didn't have a job.

It's also confusing as my work mate (Morgan, bless her) , she said that my boss does like me, if she didn't she would avoid me. But at this point I'm a fucking punching bag. And yeah, people say it's fine to stand up to yourself, but like she's intimidating af, and has a lot of power and can ruin shit for me easily. Even when I haven't done anything. That's why I'm just like not fucking sure what to do at this point.

I've survived 7 months here and this boss literally almost had me hospitalized at the beginning of the year for the fucking shit she put me through. I wish I was joking. She's a typical highschool bully, but except she's ur boss who you rely on for financial support and to actually live. But apparently no matter what I do, if I walk on egg shells around her, she'll find a way or poke at me and it's like Ive always done something wrong. And whenever I try to be mature about it and have an adult conversation before others get involved in a workplace environment and before it becomes a shitshow, that still doesn't matter.

Apparently according to my co workers that I work with almost daily basis, they've all told me similar stories of how she was like that to them when they first started, to test them or whatever the fuck. Ivan, who's also openly trans and doesn't give a fuck but yk will call you out on ur transphobia etc, my boss never misgenders me in front of him cuz she knows he'll stand up and say shit, especially if it's deadnaming or doing obvious transphobic shit.

One time she was annoyed at me as I was slightly being immature/petty towards her behaviour towards me as sh wouldn't stop and leave me the fuck alone (keep in mind I'm 22 and she's 34, a grown woman) she had the nerve to put "she" next to my name and besides "they/them" (which what I like to be preferred by at work etc) and later I told her "yk that was....a bit too far and transphobic." And she said "well don't test me." I'm like ...... Girl.

(Sorry, I've realised I have been venting, but hey, work tea)

Yeah, that "if she doesn't like you she'd leave you alone" excuse doesn't fly with me. I'm really sorry you're stuck in that position because of finances. UBI now!!

[editorandchief]

Homelander saving a blind!fem!reader (she's not totally blind, she just see a very very very color blurred and she can't see peoples face at all) from being assaulted? And he just fell in love w her and well... Homelander is Homelander (or in other words, start an obssesion w her and stalks her)???

Sorry for my awful english, im trying haha :(((

Warning: none

Requested: yeppers, I love requests 🥰😍😘

Landing at the scene of the crime in progress Homelander lets go of Maeve once both her feet were secure on the ground Black Noir appeared next to him almost out of nowhere as A-Train came to a halt with him Starlight and the deep. 

Vought thought it would be great promo for the newest 'Seven' movie if the team was seen working...well as a team. 

"What's the situation?" Maeve asked walking up to the group of officers. 

"Apparently one of the patients of this shrink is holding her hostage in there." One of the cops answered. "Her assistant called the cops after she heard yelling and a gun shot."

The assistant in question came rushing towards the supes, tears streaming down her face. "Oh my god you have to help her," She cried. "He has her in there and these pigs are just standing around." 

"Hey!" One of the cops yelled. Maeve put her arm around the women and pulled her closer to the team while glaring that the police officer.

"Okay I'm gonna need you to tell us everything you know." Maeve smiled. 

"My boss Dr. Y/N L/N one of her patents Greg...J-Juniper, I don't know exactly what's wrong with him but I've heard him a couple of time bitching about his wife leaving him or something." She explained a glare having taken over her tear stained face. "That son of bitch if he hurts her-."

"I'm sure Dr. L/N will be fine," Starlight steps in. "Is there anything else we should know?" 

"She's blind," The assistant informed. "Well not all the way blind but she can't see thing well just 'moving blob of color' or at least that what she calls it."

"Alright ma'am thank you so much for all your help you have been so brave." Homelander steps in showing off his pearly whites. 

He was beyond done with this whole situation, a hostage, a literal hostage not even hostages. This was the big mission that needed all "The Seven'? There couldn't have been an orphanage on fire or some shit."

He was going to be having a long talk with someone when he got back to Vought.

"Okay A-Train," Homelander called prompting the speedster to approach him, hands on his hips a charming smile on his face as onlookers snapped pics. "I'm gonna need you to use your speed and disarm the suspect." 

"You got it boss." He replied with a small nod. 

Lowering his voice Homelander placed a hand on his shoulder speaking through his fake smile. "And if you could do that without popping anyone like a fucking balloon that would be great." He finished with a small pat on his shoulder. "Noir and I will have your six." He said, once again raising his voice to reach the ears of the public.

The three supes entered the front lobby of the therapist office seeing movement behind the opaque  double doors that lead into the office.  

Alright lets get this over with," Homelander states once the doors connecting them to the outside world had finally slammed shut. "Noir bag 'em and tag 'em." 

As instructed A-Train sped through the door of the office, running over and snatching the gun from the patients hand. not long after Noir was yanking the man down to the ground before tying his hand behind his back. 

Still having a grip on Y/N when all this happened cause he to also be yanked to the ground. 

Walking slowly over to the women Homelander looks down at her as she looks around the room while slowly attempting to stand on her feet. 

"It's alright now ma'am," Homelander said causing her head to snap toward him. "We're gonna get you out of here." Placing his hand around her waist he moves to grab her legs only for her to step away upon feeling his hands touch the back of her knee. 

"That won't be necessary ." She said with a small frown. "I may not be able to see that well I can walk."

"Of course you can." Homelander replied sending her a small smile only after realizing she probably couldn't see it.

Keeping his hand around her waist he guided her out the front door of the building Noir and A-Train following close behind Noir with the patent and A-Train holding the gun like some sort of trophy. 

As soon as they stepped out the crowd burst into cheers, claps and snapping pictures. 

"Y/N!" The assistant called out rushing forward. "Y/N, oh god are you okay? Are you hurt? Did that bitch hurt you?" She asked practically pulling her from out of Homelander's reach. 

"I'm fine Jen," Y/N replied with a laugh as her assistant began twisting and turning her to check for injures. "Just a bit shaken up, I had no idea Greg was so far gone. There has to have been a stresser."

"No no don't make excuses for him." She scolded rolling her eyes locking eyes with the leader of the supe team. "Oh godness and you guys thank you so much, I don't know what I would have done if anything happened to her." 

Homelander smiled at the show of gratitude from the women, especially while the camera's were rolling, he couldn't have wrote it better himself. "There's no need to thank us ma'am, just doing our job."

"No, Jen is right," Y/N replied turning towards his voice. "I'm so thankful for what you've done for me."

After that the crowd began throwing 'questions' and snapping pictures, although Y/N couldn't see the best she most defiantly saw the flashing lights.

'Y/N Was there anything else going on between you and the assailant?'

'How does it feel to have been saved by 'The Seven'.'

'Do you fear that the suspect will come after you again if released?'

"Wow this is alot." Y/N said to the Homelander still in his place next to her. "It has to get a bit overwhelming at some point."

"Well you know, I can't complain." He brushed it off. 

"Of course you can." She replied. "It doesn't matter what people think of you, you have the right to feel how you feel."

Looking down at the young women Homelander didn't know what to say. No one had ever told him that he should/could feel his feelings, because most of the time whenever he felt his feeling people died, mostly he was told he needed to suck it up and put on a bright face for the camera, for the people, for the ratings. 

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." She assured. "It'll be our little secret." 

"Ma'am." A voice called as a hand is laid on her shoulder taking her attention away from him, he didn't like that. "We'd just like to make sure everything is okay." Looking over to the person Homelander finds a paramedic. 

"Oh I'm really fine." Y/N starts to protest only to be cut off. 

"Nope, you're letting them take a look at you." 'Jen' the assistant insisted. 

"Fine fine." She said holding her hands up in mock surrender. "Thank you again." She said before she was led away throw the crowd towards the ambulance.

*-*-*

On her way to work the next week Y/N was more exited than she ever had been, after spending the rest of the week listening to music and podcasts, returning to work seemed like a dream come true though that thought would probably change as soon as she got there. 

Stopping abruptly Y/N took a few steps back as her body connected with another.

"I'm so sorry." She apologized to the blue blob that was standing in front of her. 

"It's quite alright." The figure replied. "It's good to see you again Dr. L/N."

"Homelander?" Y/N asked tilting her head a bit. 

"Guilty," The blonde supe replied. "I was just flying by and I happened to see you and thought I should check in to see how things were going." He lied. 

The truth was Homelander had been watching her every spear moment he got, telling himself it was only to make sure she was safe, he watched her listen to her music and podcasts half the time wondering what her fascination with SCP files were the other half worried that she was going to bump into something, trip and crack her head open. He had to be there to make sure she was safe.

She could barely fucking see of course she couldn't take care of herself, despite watching her do just that Homelander had convinced himself that it was his job to take care of her that she wanted him to take care of her, she was just too prideful to ask seeing that it was her job to help people not ask for help. 

"That's very kind of you," Y/N complemented. "I was actually just on my way to work."

"You're going back to work already?" Homelander asked with a frown. "Don't you think it's a bit too soon?" 

"Not soon enough I was getting a bit stir-crazy stuck at home all day." She laughed. "Speaking of which I have an early appointment and I really have to get going." She said giving a small nod before heading off towards the office.

An appointment with another person who could be just as crazy as Greg, someone that could walk right in past that fucking airhead Jen and do god know what to her.

Watching her walk down the street Homelander could feel himself becoming more and more frustrated as he couldn't think of a way to keep her from going to the office, at least not today. 

*-*-*

"Knock knock." Y/N heard as she sat her desk eating her lunch when she hear the door open. 

"Homelander." She replied as he walked towards her desk.

"You've memorized my voice." He notes a smile stretching across his face. 

"Yep, one of my mini talents." She joked. "what can I do for you?" She asked wondering what had prompted her second encounter with the supe. 

"Is that all you're having for lunch?" He asked looking at the single skinless orange in her hand.

"Yeah I was too lazy to think of things to eat and Jen gave me this orange so..." 

"Hmmm." Squinting his eyes not really liking her answer. "What a lovely office space you have here. If you don't mind me asking, Do you own it?" 

"Oh no, this used to be an accounts office and after he retired he put the space up for rent." She answered placing a slice of orange in her mouth. "I've been renting it for about two years." 

"An accountant?" Homelander pressed in hopes of getting the answer he was looking for. 

"Yes, Mr. Kline." She smiles at the thought of the sweet old man.  "Says once he has enough money he'd sell me the building and buy a nice little farm house for him and his wife, not really a fan of the big city anymore." She explained. A soft chime rang though the room before Y/N quickly reached for her phone and tapped the screen.

"Break times over." She sighed. 

*-*-*

It took three weeks! Three fucking weeks to get that old bastard to sell the office space that he rented to Y/N to Vought for a more than generous amount.

Soon Jen would so up to the office only to find the locks have been changed, she'll try to call Mr. Kline to find out what's going on but his phone will have been disconnected. Y/N will show up and Jen will frantically read her the letter that was slid in between the crack of the door, informing them that it would be in their best interest to come to Vought Tower.

"Homelander Sir." The Vought employee entered the meeting room. "I was told to inform you when anyone came asking about the office space...someone came...about the office space." he stated nervously. 

"Send them up."

Homelander watched as the two women entered the room cautiously arms looped together as if someone would try to pry them apart. 

"Y/N." Homelander greeted cheerfully with a bright smile. "I'm go glad you could make it."

"I'm sorry I don't think I can say the same." She replied frowning in his direction. "You bought my office space and changed the locks? Why would you do that? Did I do something...something to make you upset with me?" She asked shaking her head slightly in disappointment.

"No no of course not," He denied. "Please have a seat and I will explain everything." Jen led Y/N over to the pair of seat closest to Homelander. 

"I know I should have talked about this with you before but I just couldn't get it out of my head." Homelander started. "I didn't grow up in the city, in fact I grew up in a small farm house, and once you told me about Mr. Kline I just knew I had to help-."

"Wait, you bought Mr. Kline his farmhouse?" Jen interrupted causing Homelander to clench his jaw in anger. 

"Yes....Jennifer, as I was saying." He answered. "And Mr. Kline signed over the deed to the office space as long as I promised that you would be treated right." 

"So I still have an office." Y/N sighed finally able now to relax a bit. 

"Absolutely, though there are going to be a few changed in your rental agreement." Homelander stated pushing over a manila folder which was taken by Jen as she began reading along with him. "I noticed that your hours are Monday-Friday 7am to 7pm, a bit long don't you think?" Homelander asked rhetorically.

"No actually I th-."  

"Monday-Wednesday 8am to 5pm will be the updates office hours." He continued ignoring Y/N attempt to respond. "All past, present and future clients will go though a mandatory background check before their next session. At least two Vought security agents will be monitoring the building during the newly stated business hours. A balanced lunch shall be provided and must be eaten within the mandated lunch hour."

"I don't need an hour for lu-."

"Farther more any patent seen as hostile, agitated or aggressive will be treats as a threat by the above listed Vought security agents. Failure to comply with said rule and regulations may result consequence varying from reduction of business hours to eviction."

"Eviction!" Y/N raised her voice for the first time, in Homelander's experience. "Excuse me for saying but this is ridiculous! You cut my business hours by more than half, my clients expect a certain amount of privacy when coming in for there session, they also expect not to be treated like criminals if they get agitated because if you haven't noticed I practice therapy and I have absolutely no clue what our eating habit have anything to do with renting us this building."  

"There are other building in New York you know?" Jen spoke up. "I'm sure we can find another office." 

"Not for nearly as low as you are paying now." Homelander rebuttals, turning his attention back to Y/N placing a hand on her shoulder. "Look I'm not trying to be the bad buy, this building is now an affiliate of Vought and therefore has to be held to a certain standard, in the future I'm sure some alterations can be made to some of the minor stipulations."

"Minor." Y/N scoffs.

"Look everyone is a bit on edge right now, how about we give it a few hours and you can decide what you are comfortable with and we can talk about we can be changed." Homelander offered. "What do you say...tonight, I'll pick you up at around 8:00 and we can discuss over dinner?" 

Taking a few moments to think Y/N nodded her head before answering. "Fine." 

"Great." Homelander smiles. "I don't know about you but  think this is the start to a beautiful relationship." 

[messers-moony]

Devotion: Chapter Twenty-Four | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader (Series)

Summary: In which the Hargreeves siblings come together to stop the end of the world.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the Umbrella Academy. All rights go to the creators of the show, the comics and everyone in between. Gifs used in these chapters are NOT mine and are/were found on Pinterest.

Warnings: Cursing, Sex, Nudity, Violence, Gore, Alcohol, Drugs, Smoking, Intense Scenes, and Abuse (if I missed any let me know)

—The Return

❝I’m your generator, apparently.❞

Y/n blew a raspberry. In the distance, Stan was practicing some form of karate. She tilted her head. He was awful. Diego groaned, “I'm still so confused.”

“Shocking.” 

“Well, someone killed our mothers, so we shouldn't exist. But clearly, we do exist, and the universe can't handle it, which is a problem.”

Klaus laid on the floor and smacked the book on his face. Y/n waved her hand, and a cup of coffee floated to her. Before she could grab it, Five took it from the air, “Big problem.”

“Yah!” 

“Stanley!” Diego called, “Now is not the time to be doing karate, okay?”

“Mom said I need to practice.”

“Yeah, well, she's not wrong.” He flipped a knife, “You're very bad.”

Y/n sighed, “Well, I saved your pathetic ass.”

“Okay, hold on.” Allison said, “Five, so we caused a paradox. What does that mean?”

“It's hard to say. It's all been theoretical until now, but things have started to disappear.”

Y/n took the mug from his hands, “What things?”

“Right now?” Five hummed, “Uh, lobsters.”

“And a shit ton of cows!” Klaus said, sitting up.

Y/n sipped the coffee, “That’s just the beginning. It’ll continue to take and take until there’s nothing left to give.”

“Aren't you retired?”

“I want nothing more.”

“You know, you can't drag us through hell because you have an itch only an apocalypse can scratch and expect us to deal with the fallout. You're not the boss.”

The cup hit the table loudly, “Allison, no one wants another fucking apocalypse. We’re all tired.”

“Fine,” Five said, “I'm the messenger, and I'm telling you something terrible is coming.”

“Then let's go attack the Sparrows, get the briefcase, and go home.”

“This is our home, Allison. Accept it.”

Y/n perked up at something clattering. Stan hit a chair, and it clattered to the ground. Diego stood up, “That's it! I'm telling your mom.”

“Wait, where's Lila?”

“Shower. I told her she could stay with us.”

Viktor stared, “Wait. When did Lila get back?”

Five grabbed the mug off the table. He tapped Y/n’s shoulder. She sighed before following him, “Wait, Five, Y/n, where you going?”

“Go talk to somebody who only has half her head up her ass.”

“Don't leave, Five.” Klaus whined, “Don't leave.”

“No, Klaus. I'm leaving.”

Y/n followed him down the stairs. It was a quiet walk. When Five finished the coffee halfway there, he placed it on a side table in the hallway. Y/n grabbed the knife from her front pocket and flipped it in her hand. They reached the bathroom only three minutes later. Five opened the door, and Y/n followed. She closed the door behind her and walked past Five to the right. 

Lila was lying in the bathtub. Y/n couldn’t see anything except her head due to the bubbles. Five furrowed his eyebrows, “The hell are you doing in here?”

She dropped her leg into the water, “Shaving my nest, you little perv.”

“Don't flatter yourself, Lila.” Five said, “I like my women a little less likely to kill me in my sleep.”

“Then why are you dating her?”

Y/n shrugged, “Fair point.”

“We're learning so much about each other.”

Five hummed, and a black knife was headed toward him. Y/n didn’t bat an eye. She heard a wisp, and he was across the room from her. Lila turned and smiled. Y/n heard another wisp to see her behind him. She grabbed his shoulders and attempted to throw his head into the mirror. She pushed again, but Five’s head wouldn’t move. Lila turned to see Y/n with her arms crossed. Before Lila could look at her, she released Five from her grip.

Lila turned and kicked him in the stomach. Y/n watched him get punched in the cheek and the jaw. He fell to the dirty floor. He looked up to see Y/n looking down at him, “Don’t get involved,”

“Yes, sir.”

Five grabbed a towel from the edge of a bathtub and stood up. Lila threw a punch, but Five wrapped the towel around her and dug his elbow into the crook of her arm. Lila punched him in the abdomen, and he swung his elbow into her jaw. He wrapped the towel around her neck and placed his calf against her back. She was gasping for breath before Y/n heard another wisp. Lila was at the door plucking the knife from the door. 

Instead of Five, she turned to Y/n. Lila threw the knife, and Y/n ducked. It hit the floor with a clink, and Y/n picked it up. It was all black and heavier than Diego’s blades. Lila smirked and tried to swipe her feet. Y/n jumped and punched Lila in the jaw. Her face flung to the side, and Y/n got behind her, holding the blade to her neck. Five’s heart was pounding. The knife had got too close to her for his comfort. 

Lila flung her head back, and Y/n dropped the blade. She fell backward on her ass. Her head pounded, and she could hear Five straining. She listened to a loud clatter, making her head pound worse. Y/n groaned and stood up, swaying on her feet. She watched a liquid be sprayed on Lila’s face, and Five kicked her in the forehead. 

“All right, enough.” Lila picked up a towel from the floor, wrapping it around her body, “I'd forgotten how much I hate you, you puny little turds.”

“The feeling's mutual, Lila.” Five said. 

He walked over to Y/n and led her to sit beside a bathtub. She sat down on the edge and rubbed her temples. Five sighed, “As much as I'd love to stand here shivving each other, I have bigger concerns than you.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“What do you know about the grandfather paradox?”

“Well, I read the same training manuals as you did.” Lila said, “Why?”

“Because,” Y/n sighed, “It’s happening.”

Lila tilted her head, “Are you two being stupid?”

“Hand over your briefcase.” Five replied, “I need to go to Herb and find out how he let things get so cocked up.”

“Over there with my knickers.” She pointed, “Toss them to me, will you?”

Y/n rubbed her eyes. Finally, everything was clear. Lila was sitting on the tub’s edge, and Five had moved behind her. He threw Lila her black underwear. He looked down and threw her clothes on the floor before picking up two briefcases. He put them on the bathtub.

“Lila, why is it you have two briefcases?”

She hummed, “One's yours. Nicked it from the Sparrows.”

Five unlatched the latches, “Go on. Give it a go.”

She watched him place one on the floor. He opened the briefcase, and it spluttered red. Y/n tilted her head, and Five picked up the second briefcase. He unlatched it and opened it. It spluttered red. She saw panic written all over his face, “This can't be happening. The odds of one of them failing it's in the millions.“

“But two of them-“

“Astronomical. Yeah.” Lila retorted, “So, what does that mean exactly? End of the world?”

Five closed the briefcase and placed it on the floor, “Oh, it's much worse than that.”

“It means that we will have to work together.”

“Shit.”

“Fuck.”

Five turned to Y/n, “Can I please sit this one out?”

“I’m afraid not.” 

Y/n groaned, and Five walked over to her. He grabbed her hands and helped her up. She fell forward into his chest, and he stumbled backward. His arms wrapped around her to keep her standing. Five glared at Lila, “What the hell did you do?”

“I hit her in the head?”

“How hard?”

Lila shrugged, “Enough to get the bloody knife away from my neck.”

He sighed and held her for a minute. She lifted her head. Her eyes still looked dazed. Y/n pushed back from him and rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm. Five and Lila stared curiously. Y/n pulled her hands away from her eyes and tucked her hair back. She saw Five and Lila staring at her. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” Five replied, “Let’s go.”

Five grabbed both the briefcases. Lila had the towel still wrapped around her. She picked up her clothes and walked toward the door. Lila opened the door, and Y/n followed behind Five through the door. Diego was standing at the door with Stan not too far behind. 

“Lila, you need to take this kid with you.”

“The hell were you doing in there?” Diego said, looking at Y/n and Five.

“Bathing.”

He narrowed his eyes, “Together?”

“Oh, okay.” Five said, “Diego, we don't have time for this. Lila, Y/n, and I have got important shit to do.”

Y/n followed Five around the corner to an elevator, “Wait. What's more important than family?”

“End of the world, genius.”

He motioned to press the button, and Y/n pushed it. The doors opened. Y/n followed Five inside. Lila got pulled by Diego out into the hallway. She blew a raspberry and placed her chin on Five’s left shoulder. He could feel his face flush and turn hot. His body melted, and his heart was racing. He could feel her breath on the side of his neck. His breathing hitched slightly.

Five put down the briefcases. He let himself melt into her touch. She kissed his cheek, and his body lit aflame. He could feel the blush traveling up to his ears and down his neck. Diego and Lila were arguing, but he was in his own world. He felt light. His body felt hot, and his heart was pounding faster than a jackrabbit. 

She smiled and walked in front of him. Y/n saw his face flushed. It was adorable. He looked sheepish. Y/n smiled and took his right hand in her left. He interlaced their hands together. She listened to Diego and Lila in the background. She jumped when Diego shouted, “Wait! What am I supposed to do with him, huh? I got important shit going on too!”

Lila stepped into the elevator, “I doubt that. Figure it out, Diego. Be a dad.”

Five had pressed the lobby button and the doors closed. Y/n shuffled her feet, “That was a bit harsh.”

“He has to learn sometime.”

“I understand that,” Y/n replied, “But he doesn’t know what to do. We didn’t have a father figure to look up to. He’s trying.”

They made it to the lobby floor not long after. Lila walked out and went down a hallway. Five looked around and hid the briefcases in a secure location. Y/n watched him look around until his face lit up. She felt him grab her hand and pull her into a tailor’s shop. He walked through the door and started talking. 

Y/n let go of his hand and sat on a couch to the left of the door. She watched him look through the different suits and colors. She crossed her legs. She put her elbow on the arm of the couch and held her head up with her palm. The man returned with a tape measure and had Five stand on a stand. Five stood still as the man measured. She closed her eyes and heard the shore. 

Five turned his head to see her eyes closed, head resting on her palm. He chuckled softly. The man continued to measure, “She your girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” His cheeks heated at the term. 

He’d never called her that before. No one had asked for him to answer. He felt like a little boy gushing over a first crush. But he wasn’t a little boy. He was an old man with a girlfriend who made him feel thirteen again. His cheeks were red when he looked in the mirror, and a sickeningly sweet smile was on his face. The man measuring him smiled. 

When the man was done, it was thirty minutes later. Five picked out a standard black suit, and the man told him to wait while he tailored it to Five’s measurements. Five nodded and sat down on the couch beside her. He gently took her head and placed it on his shoulder. Her arms curled around his right, and she nuzzled her head into his bicep. Five kissed the top of her head as he waited. 

It wasn’t a long wait. He sat there for thirty minutes before the man held a suit covered in a plastic protectant. Five stood up and gently moved her head onto a pillow. The man smiled and handed Five the suit. Five took it and walked into a bathroom cubicle. It was small, and the light flickered. He sighed and took off the old clothes. They fell to the floor and the suit wrapped around his body like a blanket. It was familiar, warm, and light. 

He swept his tousled hair back to the right and dusted off his hands. Five picked up the old clothes and threw them in a bin. The door opened and clicked closed behind him. The man was gone, and Y/n was still sleeping peacefully on the maroon couch. Five sighed before shaking her shoulder. 

Y/n groaned. Someone was shaking her awake. She looked up to see familiar sage eyes and brunet hair. She sat up and rubbed her eyes before looking at him again. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit. She tilted her head, “A suit?”

“It’s what I’m used to.”

She hummed before standing up. Y/n opened the door and heard the bell ding before walking out. The hotel was still bright and humid. Y/n walked to a bar and grabbed a pot of coffee from behind it. She held a new mug and poured the coffee into the purple cup. It wasn’t steaming, but it was warm. She put the coffee pot back and took a sip of her coffee. 

She tilted her head at Five, “Where to?”

“Well, we need energy to power up the briefcases,” Five said, “Powerful energy.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, “What does that mean?”

“It means,” He drawled, “That we will need you to become a generator.”

“I am not just an energy source.”

“I know that. But you have electricity thrumming through your veins constantly.”

“So does Viktor.”

Five sighed, “No, Viktor creates the energy when he thinks it’s necessary. You have electricity in your veins all the time. It’s just dormant sometimes. It’s why the patches work as well as they do.”

“What do you know about the patches?”

“I know that they make that electricity crackle and make you feel like you’re restless.” 

Y/n sipped the coffee, “Okay, where do we meet Lila?”

“The utility room.” Five smiled, “Follow me.”

She filled the mug one more time before following him. It was a short six-minute walk around the hotel. Her shoes glided nicely against the carpet, and the cup was warm in her palms. The hallways seemed more humid than the lobby, making Y/n’s hair frizz at the ends. Lila was standing outside the room with an army green cargo jacket, black crop top, grey jeans, and black boots. 

Lila narrowed her eyes, “What is she doing here?”

“I’m your generator, apparently.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Lila said, “You can’t control electricity.”

Y/n could hear Five fluttering inside the cupboard. She heard different wires moving, creaky metal doors opening, and the occasional briefcase error noise. Five sighed inside the room, “Her power is made from electricity.”

“Like energy to power an electrical outlet?”

“Yes,” Y/n huffed.

Lila looked at Y/n one more time before going into the cupboard. She walked around and held different wires while Five adjusted certain things. Y/n leaned in the doorway, holding the mug of coffee close to her chest. She watched Five place two wires and walked back to the briefcase. Y/n watched Lila look him up and down. 

“Nice suit.”

“Thanks. The tailor in the lobby is a master craftsman.” He put two more wires on the briefcase.

“Still, I will miss those pasty knees.”

“Yeah, well, we could all stand to be showing a little less skin these days.”

Lila murmured under her breath before handing out the wires, “For you.”

Y/n sighed, and Five stopped, “Wait, let me try first.”

Lila shrugged and handed Five the wires. Y/n leaned back into the doorway and took another sip of coffee. His shoulders were tense. Y/n looked around the small room. It was mostly concrete with no paint, and there were wires everywhere. It was hot. Lila held out a jumpstarter.

“Ready to hot-wire this briefcase?”

“Let's do this.”

Y/n watched Lila turn the knob. Energy transferred from the wires into Five’s hands. They blurred blue, and he was exclaiming in pain. She saw the light’s in the hallway fade out and back in. Five lost balance, and his back hit the wall. Y/n heard Lila laughing and put the mug down. Y/n put her hand around the wire, which absorbed into her palm. The briefcase was on fire. Y/n could feel the energy entering her body. It took it in like a sponge and water. 

“Shit! Lila!”

Lila turned off the jump starter, and the energy stopped. Five dropped the wires and started flinging a towel at the burning briefcase. Lila laughed as she walked out of the room, clapping her hands together, “Yeah, I was 99% sure that wouldn't work.”

Y/n watched her sit on top of an ice machine. She picked up her coffee mug and took a sip. Her hands trembled from the new energy flowing. Five turned to her with soft eyes, “Thank you.”

She nodded, and he glared at Lila, “Well, I'm glad my pain amuses you.”

“You have no idea. It's like my therapy.”

“Well, now we are down to one half-dead briefcase, and my jumps are only accurate up to a couple minutes.” Five closed the door with a slam, “So, essentially, we're screwed.”

Y/n watched Lila’s face contort, “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Oh, I hate that smile.”

“Listen, on your own, your little jumps are rather pathetic.” Five scoffed. Y/n sipped her coffee, “But if we powered up together, you blinking, me mimicking that blink, I think we could create some kind of feedback loop and get enough juice to jump-start the case. Not to mention, Y/n can give you enough juice to power up for me to mimic.”

“All of us together?”

“We'd have to trust each other.”

Five scoffed, “Lila, you just spent the better part of the last ten days trying to end our life.”

“You killed my birth parents.”

“What the hell did I do?”

“Associate with him.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Fair enough.”

Lila jumped off the ice machine, “And your entire family stood by while that greasy Swede put a cap in the woman who raised me.”

“The Handler was going to kill you, Lila. In fact, she did kill you.” Five said, “Then I rolled back time and let the meatball do his work.”

“Oh, and by the way,” Five tilted his head, “If you're leading Diego on as payback for what happened in Texas, you're pissing up the wrong ladder there 'cause that idiot may actually love you.”

Y/n crossed her ankles, leaning against the wall, “He does love you, Lila.”

She turned, “If anyone knows what Diego loving someone looks like, it’s me. I don’t have to be a mind reader to know he loves you deeply. From being a mind reader, I can tell you that The Handler never loved you. You were a pawn in her chess game. Just like Five and I.”

“What do you know?” Lila spat, eyes teary, “You spent decades with no love, alone, and depressed. No one has ever loved you, and if they did, you betrayed them before they could hurt you.”

Y/n took a deep breath, “Maybe so,”

Lila started to open her mouth, but Five stopped her, “I’d suggest you stop talking before I kill you.”

“Enough,” Y/n said, “We won’t make it to the Commission if none of us can trust each other.”

“Okay, perhaps we can't get to trust,” Five replied, staring at Lila, “But there is a certain honesty in white-hot hatred.

Lila rolled her eyes before opening the door, “Then come over here, you god-awful little shits.”

“And hold my hand.”

Y/n sighed and watched Five take Lila’s hand. He held out his other hand to her. She gulped down the rest of the coffee and placed the mug on the ice machine. Y/n placed her shaky hand in Five’s right. She closed the door behind them with a click. Y/n’s body was trembling from the overload of energy. She took her hand back as they played around with wires. Lila stared at her, “Are you gonna do anything?”

“I don’t know this stuff.” 

Five gave her a knowing look. Y/n shrugged with a subtle smile. Lila rolled her eyes and continued to place wires in different places. They sparked with yellow. Lila held out her hands, “Okay, relax.”

“I can’t.” Five said, “Your breath is terrible.”

“Garlic is for winners. Enough foreplay!”

“This is so stupid.”

“Power up, shithead.”

Five turned to Y/n on his right. She watched him hold out his right hand. Her hand was shaking as his intertwined with hers. She took a deep breath before releasing it. The energy thrummed through her body, reaching her left hand. It shocked Five, he gave a small yelp, but it kickstarted his power. His hands glowed blue, and Y/n continued to let the energy through her body. 

“That's it.” “Let me in!”

Five was straining, “I can't! It's too much!” “Don't bitch out on me now!”

Y/n heard him give another squeak of pain but increased the electricity. It seemed to work, the blue was getting bigger, and Y/n could feel it encasing her. It was always so gentle, “I hate you so much!”

“Then get this right, or it's us in the Stone Age forever!”

“Now! Do it now!”

She let the rest of the energy flow, and they zapped. Y/n shivered. She thought it was from the jump, but it was snowing hard. It was a blizzard. She sat on the ground and struggled to stand up from the wind. She saw a hand pulling her up, “Oh, brilliant idea, Lila. Welcome to the Ice Age.”

“Shut up and just look.”

Y/n and Five turned around. She couldn’t see well through the piles of snow, but she saw an outline of a circular building. Her legs gave out, and her knees buckled. It was the Commission covered in snow, icicles, and ice. It looked abandoned. Her heart pounded, “The Commission.”

Lila laughed. Y/n pushed herself back to her feet and started walking forward, “Shit.” The door was cracked and opened. Y/n walked through to see everything destroyed. She trembled. Y/n looked up, and the chandelier was broken. There were pieces of cement all over the floor. Lila was laughing, looking around at the disaster, “Holy shit.”

“I was just here.” She said, “How long was I bloody gone?”

“It seems the grandfather paradox is affecting everything.” Five put down the briefcase, “Even places out of time.”

“Is that possible?”

“I stopped tracking what was possible a long time ago.”

Y/n heard rumbling and looked up. A piece of glass was falling. She placed her hands above her head, and the glass stopped above her head. She sighed and moved before letting it shatter to the floor. Five grabbed her left hand tightly in his right. He squeezed it and released a subtle sigh. 

“We better get moving.” Five said, “We’ll check the Infinite Switchboard.”

“And I'll check Herb's office.” Lila replied, “Little cockroach would survive anything.”

Five pulled and nudged her to the stairs. Y/n followed him up the concrete stairs. The building was freezing, and her legs felt like ice, “Bye.”

“See ya.”

“Miss you.”

“That's weird.”

They reached the top of the staircase. Y/n stopped him and pulled him in a different direction. Her heart was pounding as she got closer. She remembered the hallways like it was yesterday. She remembered everything. Her shoes clicked against the old flooring. Five’s shoes echoed on the floor. He held her hand tightly.

“Where are you taking me?”

She swallowed, “I- I just need to see something.”

“Okay.”

He followed her. Y/n walked through more hallways and avoided more broken debree on the floor. It took one turn to the left, and it was there. The room had been rebuilt from when she destroyed it. She walked toward it and placed her hand on the door. Y/n opened the locks gently, and the door flew open. It hadn’t changed a day, except it had been rebuilt like they expected her to return. 

“Y/n,” Five called, “What is this room?”

“This is where I stayed during my time at the Commission.”

She heard a thud. Five had put down the briefcase and walked toward the room. Y/n stepped to the side to let him look inside the room. He walked into the corner where she had always imagined him. She always looked in the far left corner and imagined him. He would always tell her to help him, that he was suffering, that he needed to come home. He had begged her for help every single day. Now, he stood in the corner, completely healthy, tall, and no longer an imagination.

“They kept you here?”

Y/n heard the anger in his voice, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I wasn’t to be trusted. I was too dangerous and too far into my grief. I was a ticking timebomb ready to explode if someone moved the wrong way.” Y/n said, “Until finally, someone relieved me of it, and I exploded.”

He tilted his head, “Too far into your grief? What do you mean?”

“I mean that when you disappeared, and everyone thought you were dead, I still hoped you were out there somewhere. It clouded my head. I started seeing you everywhere and hearing your voice inside my head. Sometimes I’d forget my surroundings and whom I was pointing the gun at.” She explained, “One day, it got a little too bad. I turned the barrel of the gun on Klaus. Before I could shoot, the gun was out of my hands on the ground. I grabbed the person and almost choked them to death before realizing it was Luther. After that, Reginald wasn’t so kind.”

“You said something back at the Consulate,” Five said, “You said that you were the only reason that The Handler gave me the deal to be a temporal assassin. What did you do to get that deal?”

Y/n shuffled her feet, “Something I’m not proud of. Something I regret to this day.”

Five walked in front of her. His hands gently moved her chin up. She stared into his green eyes. They were hypnotic. Y/n remembered seeing the same green gleam in the night sky in her dreams. It was a constant reminder of safety and protection. She had felt safe under that sky. She hadn’t felt that safe until she felt his embrace. 

“What did you do?”

“The Handler gave me an ultimatum,”

“She’s famous for those.”

“Yes, but this one, it was bad,” Y/n said, “I saw you.”

Five furrowed his eyebrows, “Saw me?”

“Yes, on the Infinite Switchboard, I was sixteen at the time and was planning to escape this god-awful place, but someone must’ve heard my planning or guessed because The Handler found out.” She couldn’t stop talking, “She took me to the Infinite Switchboard, and I saw you at sixteen in an apocalyptic wasteland. She used that against me. She knew I’d do anything to bring you back to the Academy and that my devotion for you was too strong. It didn’t matter whom I killed or what I did. At the end of the day, she knew that if I could get you back, I’d do it all over again.”

“But one day, she handed me an assignment. For the first time, I declined. I didn’t want to do it. I had killed so many people, but looking at the name on the slip, I knew that you wouldn’t have wanted me to do it. I could hear your voice in my head telling me it wasn’t worth it and that you’d find another way home.” She swallowed back the tears in her eyes, “But I knew there was no other way. And then The Handler said the magic words. She told me that if I completed the assignment, you’d get a deal out of the wasteland, so I did the assignment. I didn’t realize how long it would take her to complete the deal.”

Five’s face was still confused, “What did you do, love?”

“I killed Ben Hargreeves.”

[yeetlegay]

Oh I'm definitely looking forward to that meta!

Regarding the wound tending scene, I feel like I may have gotten it completely wrong. Like many others on the TL, I thought I noticed a difference in Porsche's overall attitude towards Kinn once he saw Kinn's male friend in Episode 3. So I read the wound tending scene as Porsche flirting with Kinn but then it was revealed in Episode 4 that he hadn't even registered that Kinn may have been gay. I mean it could have still been Porsche subconsciously flirting with Kinn without him even realising. I have no idea.

Honestly, I really do find Porsche hard to read. I mean I can genuinely pause an episode at any time and tell you exactly what Kinn is thinking based on the look on his face (Mile is an EXCEPTIONAL actor. His MICROEXPRESSIONS! I feel like every single decision he makes as Kinn is the BEST one).

However, with Porsche, it's very different for me. I think it may be intentional because Apo is definitely an incredible actor as well. On one hand, it could be that Porsche is confused/unaware of his attraction to Kinn. On the other, it could just be that he is very good at hiding his feelings. Both Kinn and Porsche are great at that. But when it comes to attraction and sexuality, that's not something Kinn really has to hide. I mean he's KINN THEERAPANYAKUL. He can do whatever he wants. He can look at anyone however he wants. What can they do about it?! Nothing!

But with Porsche, he stands to lose a lot if he makes his attraction to Kinn apparent and Kinn reacts negatively to it. I mean that's his BOSS! (Gotta love those power dynamics, LOL) I think this was illustrated in the "To me all our people are the same" scene in Episode 4. Porsche has remembered this kiss by this time and based on the reaction we saw, he didn't seem to mind it at all. I think him asking Kinn if he would have asked for him back was a very loaded and layered question. Yes, he wants to know whether Kinn thinks he's a competent enough bodyguard to be on his team but he also now knows that Kinn wanted to discuss the kiss (based on all his prodding earlier) and now wants Kinn to once again initiate that conversation because he's not the one in the position to do so.

So in conclusion, my point is that I'm confused about Porsche and where he stands. I REALLY want him to just be good at hiding his feelings but like I said, he could also just be confused about his feelings for Kinn. Sigh. I can't wait for Episode 5. I'm HOPING Porsche doesn't initially forget the events of the night before but I think he might.

Ack I’m just now seeing this! Well the meta is here now 😂

Yeah I don’t think Porsche really twigged to what that guy was doing in Kinn’s room in episode 3. We’re all still susceptible to heteronormativity/compulsory heterosexuality/etc. so it just might not have occurred to him that someone like Kinn would be gay. Idk Porsche just might need to have that gay shit directly in his face lol. Sort of like my many embarrassing experiences of finding out girls were flirting with me and I just thought they were being nice. Obliviousness is queer culture at this point.

I definitely think Porsche just, like, gives vibes constantly without meaning to around Kinn. He was definitely eyeing him up very subtly and radiating a certain energy, even though I’m sure he had no idea that’s what he was doing.

Porsche can be hard for me to read too, but tbh I think it’s hard for him too. I think he’s not very good at understanding himself sometimes; from one oldest sibling to another, I can recognize how he’s sort of closed off parts of himself because of how quickly he had to grow up and how much of his youth he lost in grieving for his parents and taking care of Chay. And for the same reason, when he is aware of his feelings, I think he’s very good at masking them when he wants to. He can actually be pretty calculating in how much of himself he reveals.

So yeah, I think it’s both! I think Porsche is confused about his feelings and doing a good job of hiding them. And I still do think he’s not in quite as deep as Kinn yet (I posted earlier that I’m getting some real demiromantic vibes from him, but we’ll see lol). I feel like Kinn may have fallen first, but Porsche will fall harder.

[fanfiction-artist-prototype]

"Do I look like your Dad?" hehe funny title

@achairwithapandaonit

"Do I look like your Dad?"

Okay so, so so so! This is a BNHA crack idea where Midoriya Hisashi is a low level goon for All For One right? And he goes on 'business' trips a lot and whilst he isn't like... Garaki levels of top goon he's pretty high up; to the point people are sending assassin's after the Midoriya's to get to him.

And Inko, well she's aware to an extent, but she also adamantly refuses to leave the flat, to move homes and little ten year old Izuku decides enough is enough!

So, he calls the number his mother has listed as 'contact Hisashi' except... it's not Hisashi's personal number it was the number he gave Inko for a 'if I die and everything goes to shit phone this number and my boss will help you' type of situation. But Izuku doesn't know that.

He phones, he hears a gruff 'Hello? How did you get this number?' and just starts wailing on whoever is on the other end of the line. He assumes it's his Father because he was very small when he last saw him so he doesn't know what he sounds like but this is Hisashi's number so it MUST BE him.

Izuku starts demanding Hisashi convince his mother to move because they're being attacked a lot, there's apparently hits on them and it's only his mothers fine control of her quirk and the fact that Izuku is very fast and small with great lung capacity to scream for help that things haven't gone very very wrong. Of course... it's not Hisashi on the other line but a mildly amused All For One who's laughing inside because he had told Hisashi that people would go after him and the cocky goon had said it wouldn't happen and well, he's got the reality on the phone.

AFO tries to tell Izuku he isn't his Father, tries to clear up this misunderstanding because sure it's mildly amusing but he also doesn't want to hear a random child wailing on at him frequently, so he goes "I'm not your Father-"

And that just sends Izuku onto another spiral, and so AFO gets this ten year old screaming at him saying how he was asked of two things, 'child support and keeping his Mother safe' and yes he's quirkless but is Hisashi really such a cruel bastard that he'd let his wife be assassinated!?

(All For One is slightly more intrigued now)

Of course he still tries to correct the situation but Izuku just pulls the 'I know the phone is tapped by your boss and that it's recording the location and recordings of all the calls here so if Hisashi doesn't get his act in order Izuku was just going to go to the police.'

Well that isn't much of a threat but it's interesting, here's a ten year old trying to blackmail his Father who he knows is involved in business so dangerous that assassins are involved. He wants to know more.

So he just... takes over Hisashi's place. He never goes in person but he sorts out the assassins, never lets Hisashi know about them and just starts phoning more often, talking quirks and such, talking heroes and ending up being something of a father figure in Izuku's life.

Inko knows damn well it isn't her husband and that it's his eldritch being of a boss but he sends her presents on hers and Hisashi's anniversary (and she knows it's the not-hisashi since these gifts are thoughtful and not the 'oh shit i forgot' last minute box of chocolates her husband also sends her) so she isn't saying anything.

Over the years Izuku becomes convinced his Father is a super villain hence why he's never around and Tomura knows that Sensei has a 'brat', but he thinks Izuku is his biological son and only knows his voice not his face.

Shigaraki has this whole one-sided rivalry in his head with Izuku for Sensei's attention and he discovers Izuku goes to UA and attacks 1-A behind AFO's back because HE was with Sensei before Izuku was even conceived he is not losing to a little snot nosed brat who is like a mini All Might!

The rest of the plot stays the same, but Shigaraki is just extra edgy because Izuku isn't just his 'All Might' in the dynamic he's like his 'step brother' and he wasn't quite ready for one. The Kamino wall incident (where AFO didn't destroy the wall the kids were hiding behind) is because he tagged Izuku as soon as he got the quirk and he's desperately hoping that Izuku doesn't try and kill him since this might be the one OFA user he doesn't want to kill but he's already Izuku's father figure he will pull out the so-called 'dad' voice he made to admonish the boy over the years if he gets in the way.

--

link to wip list

[whimsicallyreading]

For Day 29 of Rowaelin Month

“A song fic-“

The song- “Always Been You” by Quinn XCII

CW- Mentions of miscarriage and divorce

"I can't believe you right now."

Rowan looks at his wife in frustration. She's sitting at the end of their bed, staring listlessly at the wall. The skirt of the red dress she's wearing is wrinkled, and his heart aches when he notices the mascara marks on her cheeks.

"Aelin," Rowan tries again to reach for her, but she leans away from his grasp.

"No, Rowan. I'm done."

Rowan takes a long swing from the beer in front of him. The time on his phone alerts him that he's spent most of the evening sulking at his bar.

The guys had invited him to dinner, but Rowan hadn't felt like going in light of his current situation. Instead, choosing to meander to the shady little pub they'd passed by coming from the airport.

His lawyer had sent him numerous emails. Documents to sign, agreements to approve, and papers he needed to read through before sending them to the judge.

Divorce was a pain, and Aelin wasn't making it easy.

"Hey, bud. I thought I might find you here." Fenrys slides onto the barstool next to his.

Rowan sighs and rubs the lines forming on his forehead. "Well, I thought it was obvious I didn't want company."

"Too bad. Drinking alone isn't a good look on you." Fenrys raises a hand and motions for another round of beers. "How are things going with ya know?"

"Shitty. She's never paid a dime of rent on that apartment, but she wants the lease signed into her name and for me to front the first four months of rent." Rowan cracks a peanut between his finger. He has no intent to eat the growing pile in front of him. He just craved the satisfaction of breaking something.

"Well, have you talked to her about that?" Fenrys frowns in sympathy, knowing how equally attached both parties were to the little rental.

Rowan laughs mirthlessly. "No, she said that it was better if our conversations were mediated. I always knew Aelin was catty, but she's acting like such a-"

"Don't." Fenrys gives Rowan a severe look. "I know you are upset, but don't start saying shit you'll regret."

Rowan pauses and reluctantly nods his agreement. It's the alcohol talking. He knew the problems that had festered his marriage were predominantly his responsibility.

He takes a deep breath, but a heaviness seems to keep the air from reaching his lungs fully. The weight was slowly becoming too familiar, starting the day Aelin had presented him with the papers.

Rowan wishes he'd done more. Wishes he'd paid more attention and seen the signs of Aelin's unhappiness.

The day Aelin had broken down in their bedroom had been a cold wake-up call but by then? It was already too late.

"You missed our anniversary Rowan." Aelin shouts and pulls her heels off angrily.

Rowan picks up a shoe and tries to hand it back to her. "I know. I'm sorry. It's not too late, though. We can still go out? There's still time to salvage-"

Aelin turns away from him and seems to fold in on herself. Rowan wants to reach out. He wants to hold her, but something dark is building in the air.

"I don't want your leftovers, Rowan," Aelin whispers. "That's all I get anymore—your leftover time. Your leftover attention. Whatever leftover resentment you bring home from work."

"Aelin-" he tries to cut off her depressive spiral, but she's not finished.

"You used to call me during the day." Aelin's voice cracks, and he realizes she's crying. "Every day, you would call me on your break. Now you don't even call when you leave town."

"Baby, just listen to me." He puts his hands on her shoulders, but Aelin breaks his grasp to turn around and look at him.

"Is there someone else?" Her eyes are wide and vulnerable. So unlike his regular Aelin."

"What?" His brain is struggling even to formulate a reply. Rowan's lack of response only causes Aelin to worry more.

Something in her cracks. There's a quiver to her lips, and her face drains of color. "Oh. Oh no."

"Aelin. I swear there is no one else." Rowan finally says, but it's too late.

"Is," Aelin presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Is it because I lost the baby?" She sucks in a hiccupping breath. "You've always wanted kids. So did I, but my fucking body doesn't work."

Aelin closes her eyes, and Rowan knows she's speaking more to herself than him, but her words gut him just the same. "My body doesn't work right. I keep giving us false hopes and wasting money on pregnancy tests. Of course, you would look for a woman who can give you what you want."

He's surprised by the sudden flare of anger in him. "Don't put words in my mouth. That will never be your fault."

They'd known right from the start their journey to parenthood would be a long one. Aelin had a family history of complicated fertility. It had seemed so trivial when they got married. Yet even knowing there could be issues, nothing quite prepared them for the pain of a miscarriage.

Aelin sniffles, unable to force back her grief, "But you resent me. Don't you?"

Rowan doesn't reply.

"It's rough," Rowan admits out loud. "I let a lot get left unsaid. I was hurt and pushed her away. Now she won't even speak to me without a lawyer present."

Fenrys nods, "It's all probably for the best. Once this is over, you guys can put this drama behind you."

"I wish it were that easy," Rowan knocks back the rest of his beer. He grimaces at the drink. It's not taking hold quickly enough.

Fenrys raises an eyebrow. "You both will be able to shut the book on this chapter of your lives and move on? Considering how bloody you two have been fighting, it sounds ideal."

They sit in silence. Fenrys takes the peanut basket away from Rowan and picks at the shells. The bartender comes by, and disgruntledly eyes Rowan's pile of crumbs as he orders a whiskey neat.

Fen was like his little brother, but Rowan found it hard to admit his real problem to him aloud. "I still love her."

The basket goes flying over the side of the counter, and Fenrys chokes on his beer. "What?"

Rowan can't look him in the eye, "We lost a baby. It was early. Aelin didn't want to tell everyone. Three years we tried to get pregnant, and finally, a test comes back positive. She was so happy."

"Shit," Fenrys says quietly. "I'm so sorry."

"It was there, and then it was gone. I thought Aelin was fine. She cried for a week, but then it was like a switch flipped, and she was back to normal." Rowan clenches a napkin in his fist. "I was devastated. It hurt like hell, but I didn't want to send her back into a depression." Rowan shakes his head at how stupid he'd been. "So I put some distance between us. I didn't want her to think I was upset with her."

"I didn't feel better," Rowan sips the whiskey, relishing the warmth. "It made me mad that she got over it so quickly, and I couldn't. I didn't realize that I was growing that space between us. I didn't understand how much guilt she harbored and that she tried to be strong for me. Not until she broke."

"We fought. I said all the wrong things. Aelin couldn't take it anymore, she left, and I didn't stop her." Rowan leans his head on his hands and elbows against the counter. "She's the love of my life, and I watched her walk out the door."

Fenrys sucks in a breath and sighs. "You are my best friend, and I mean this in the most loving way possible. Why the hell are you here?"

"What?" Rowan looks at Fenrys annoyed face.

"Get out of here. Go. I'll tell the boss you have ebola or some shit." Fenrys fishes his wallet out and throws cash on the bar. "I'll even cover the tab. Just leave. Now."

"What? I don't understand?"

Fenrys looks at Rowan like he's stupid. "No offense, but you are about as interesting as a brick wall. The fact you caught a girl like Aelin is astonishing. If you love her, are you honestly going to let her go on being miserable?"

"She's not miserable," Rowan scoffs.

Fenrys laughs bitterly. "You forget I'm pals with Aedion too? Aelin winds up at his house almost every evening crying her eyes out. You two are still hopelessly in love. You're just dumb and badly in need of a good conversation."

"Aelin is upset?" A sense of disbelief washes over him.

"Yes! She misses you, but she's under the impression you are off sleeping around." His face saddens. "I told Aedion you weren't. He knows I go on all of these trips with you. Aelin's just upset you're gone and needs to believe in something that can help her let go."

Rowan stands up, swaying. "I have to go."

"Hell yeah, you do. Give Aelin my love," Fenrys waves as Rowan vates the bar like a hawk out of hell.

Aelin sets the stack of papers in front of him.

Rowan had been camping out in his office ever since there disaster of an anniversary. He'd texted a few times, but every time they talked, it was like relighting a fuze. Things weren't getting better.

"What are these?" Rowan asks without looking up from his screen.

"Your ticket to freedom," Aelin sits in the chair across from him.

She looks thin, thinner than she did when Arobynn was her foster father. It physically hurts Rowan that he's causing her that kind of stress. Glancing at the papers, she slapped in front of him. His blood becomes like an ice river through his body. "Aelin-"

"I'm not the one for you. That's apparent now. I won't hold you hostage in a marriage that you aren't happy in." Aelin blinks, and a tear slides down her face. He wants to wipe it away, but he's beyond angry. She was giving up on them.

"If this is what you want," Rowan slides the papers towards him and pulls out a pen.

Rowan is racing the familiar paths to their apartment. He doesn't care that it's almost four in the morning. The plane ride between Perranth and Ornyth is mercifully short, but he can't force himself to wait another minute.

"Aelin," he yells through their door. "Baby, answer me. Open the door."

Rowan's fists tap a consistent rhythm on the door, and his heart skips a beat when a bedraggled Aelin finally appears. "Rowan, do you know what time it is?"

She's in a pair of grey flannel pajamas, not one of her usual silky numbers. Aelin's eyes are red around the edges, and her face is still dewy from the excessive amount of lotion he knows she loves to put on. Rowan knows all of her routines. All of her favorite outfits, comfort movies, and best memories. He knows the scar she has on her left hand from an abusive foster father. Rowan remembers how the bridge of her nose wrinkles when she's upset in the same spot her cousin's does.

He knows everything about her, because not only were they husband and wife, they were best friends.

How could he have let that go?

Before Aelin can ask any more questions, Rowan has swept her into his arms. "I missed you so damn much."

"Rowan, have you been drinking?" Aelin asks in a voice cracked with emotion.

His hands are running up her back, and his knows burrows into her hair. He's always loved the smell of her jasmine shampoo. "Fireheart, I never resented you for losing the baby."

"Rowan, I don't want to talk about this," Aelin tries to push him away, but he squeezes her into his chest, and she melts.

That had been his mistake. He should have held Aelik like this and never let her go on pretending to be happy. How could he know everything about this woman and not have seen past her facade? She'd suffered. His own pain had blinded him.

"Aelin, I've made so many mistakes lately." Rowan rubs the back of Aelin's neck the way she likes, and he can feel the sobs starting to build up inside of her. "But the greatest shame of my life is not being there for you when you needed me. I was stupid, Fireheart. I'm not going to be stupid any longer. This separation can't go on, we aren't any happier for it, and I can't live knowing I'm away from the other half of my soul."

Aelin cracks, and he can feel the tears wetting the front of his shoulder. "You were never home. I thought there was someone else, someone who could give you the things you wanted because I can't."

Her whole form is shuddering his arms, and Rowan squeezes tighter as if he can hold her broken pieces together. "It's always been you. I don't care if we adopt or never have any kids at all. All I need is you, baby. You are all I've ever needed."

Suddenly, hands are in Rowan's hair as Aelin crushes their lips together. The kiss is frantic, a relief of the stress they'd carried upon their shoulders.

"I missed you too," Aelin whispers in between kisses. “Gods I mussed you so much.”

The rest of their night is filled with soothing words, frantic kissing, and murmured apologies. Rowan kisses the tears from her cheeks and Aelin looks into his eyes like she’s home. Nail dig into skin as they promise never to be apart again.

For the first time in months they sleep in the same bed. Rowan sinks into a deep restful sleep with his wife in his arms once more. He loves the way her cold toes search out his heat. How Aelin fits so perfectly against his chest. When he wakes up and she’s still there, his heart nearly features from relief.

After months of pain, it's the beginning of their walk towards healing.

The days after aren't perfect. They had legal issues to sort back out, more problems to lay bare to the sunlight. There was arguing, but it lacked actual heat, and they didn't walk away feeling unloved at the end. No longer did they fight to land barbs. Their bickering now served to work towards solutions and to express needs.

Between struggles, the love began to grow back. Rowan kept his job at work, and when he was home, it was about them. He started calling her on his breaks again, and it always astonished him how much he missed the sound of her voice. They both strived to communicate their feelings better and actually listen instead of reacting.

Aelin surprised him with romantic dates, and Rowan read pages of her favorite books to her at night. They danced in the kitchen and laughed at their favorite shows.

Fixing their marriage was hard work, but Rowan and Aelin didn't mind. The separation proved that neither of them wanted a life without the other. It was to whatever end, and they wouldn't accept anything less for them.

On one Sunday morning, Rowan opens his eyes and realizes that Aelin isn't on her side of the bed. Panic surges in him, and he looks around to make sure her things are still there.

They are, and the tension eases from his shoulders until he hears soft crying from the bathroom. Darting out of bed, he grabs Aelin's bathrobe and knocks on their bathroom door. "Aelin, what's wrong?"

Had he screwed something up? Was she sick?

The lock clicks, granting him silent permission for him to come inside. Rowan pushes the door open and finds Aelin crying on the side of the tup. With gentle hands, he wraps her robe around her and throws an arm over her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Aelin looks up at him, a radiant smile on her face. "Look."

Rowan glances down to her clenched fists and-

He blinks, once, twice. Aelin laughs at his dumbfounded face, and it breaks his paralysis. Rowan grabs her around the waist and spins her around the cramped bathroom, the positive pregnancy test clattering to the floor.

Aelin's arms wrap around his neck. The emotion in the room is raw and bittersweet, but there's a hopefulness that can't be denied. Rowan holds her tight as they process the news. When they break apart, the love between them is palpable. They had another shot at this, a fresh start.

Hards times would come and go, but good days were never far behind for them. Because for Aelin and Rowan, it's always been them.

And that's all they needed.

[mypoisonedvine]

Time After Time | dark!Neil (Tenet) x reader

summary: it’s tricky when feelings get involved in an organization like tenet.  still, you’ve never been happier than you are with your boyfriend Neil, even if he’s a bit elusive and a very erratic coworker.  for all his secrets, you never expected what he would tell you the day he finally proposed.

word count: 5.5k

warnings:  smut!! (dub con, for extremely complex reasons), almost kinda stockholm syndrome?, yandere/soft!dark neil, breeding kink, confusing time travel stuff

"What are we doing here?” you asked as you looked around the safehouse— like any secret Tenet hideaway, it was sleek but sterile, nestled in a historic neighborhood in southeastern Moscow.  It was sort of how you remembered from the last time you’d been here for work, but somebody had rearranged the living room and changed out the rug.  (Knowing the nature of your business, you were pretty confident you knew why the rug was replaced.)  

Neil had made it clear that you weren’t coming here for a mission, but never said what you were here for, and had kept up the veil of secrecy all week long.  At first, you had assumed that since tomorrow was your four-year dating anniversary, it must have something to do with that, but the more you pondered the potential options, the more you were unsure.

You turned to look at him and found him wearing his signature smirk, the one that made you sure he was up to something— but you still didn’t know what.

“Seriously, Neil, just tell me!” you pleaded with a laugh, shoving him playfully.  

“We’re here,” he explained slowly, “because I need to ask you something.”

He sank down onto one knee, clutching your hand in his, as you looked down at him with wide eyes.  "Oh— oh my god,” you barely managed to stammer, entirely breathless.

“As soon as I met you, I knew you were the love of my life,” Neil began with that smile of his that always melted your heart.  “I knew that I had to do everything in my power to make you as happy as you make me, to have you with me until the end of time— whenever that actually comes.”

You laughed a little, but it fell into a sob of joy as he reached into his jacket and pulled a ring out of his pocket, brandishing it to you.

“Darling, will you be my wife?” he asked, almost sounding like he was a little nervous that you’d say ‘no’, for some reason.

“Neil,” you whispered, “of course— yes, yes!”

He popped up and kissed you, smiling too hard for it to be a very effective kiss, though it was a perfect one nonetheless.  You felt him slip the ring on your finger and you felt like you were floating on air.  It was even more surreal than the first time you were inverted.

“I’m so glad you said yes,” he admitted with a sigh of relief against your lips.  You pulled back from the kiss and looked up at him, bewildered but overjoyed.  

“Were you really worried I’d say no?” you scoffed incredulously.

“Terrified,” he laughed, and you laughed too, kissing him again quickly before launching into the first of so many questions you wanted to ask.

“When did you— how did you—?”

“I got the ring last month,” he explained.  “I thought about waiting longer but I was so tired of hiding it from you.  Then it was just a matter of getting you here.”

“Don’t take this as me criticizing your proposal,” you giggled, “but I have to ask: why here?”

He sighed a little, smirking slightly, and looked away before catching your gaze again.  “You’re gonna think I’m a bit crazy—”

“Already do, continue,” you winked.

“But this is where we first met.”

He was right; you did think he was crazy.  You furrowed your brow and laughed nervously.  “Neil, we met at a coffee shop, the one by my old apartment.  I didn’t work here then, you recruited me yourself.”

He chuckled slightly, turning your confusion into an eerie sense of nervousness.  “Sometimes you amaze me with your naivete, darling.  This is where we first met, the first time.”

Gingerly, you pulled your hands away from his.

“I didn’t recruit you, originally.  I was here, working, when a close friend of mine came in and introduced me to the newest member of the team.  It was you… and you captured my heart, instantly.  Only problem was…" he trailed off, chewing his lip as he glanced away.

“Tell me, Neil,” you demanded quietly.

“You’d captured someone else’s heart, too.  And he had already married you.”

You stood up instantly, walking away a little before turning back to stare at him in bewilderment.  You couldn’t believe what you were hearing; you could hardly stand on your wobbly legs anymore.  “I… I had a husband?”

“Yeah, met him once; seemed like a nice guy,” he shrugged.  “But he wasn’t right for you.”

“And how’s that?”

“Because he wasn’t me.”

You shook your head, terrified to imagine the ways Neil had tampered with the flow of time for something as trivial as an infatuation with you.

“I tried to hide my feelings for you, darling, really; we were just coworkers for a long time, I kept it strictly professional.  But the more I got to know you, the more I grew to love you.  I knew I couldn’t be happy just being your friend— you’re my everything.  I tried to tell you— but you wouldn’t listen,” he shook his head.  “You told me you loved your husband.  You told me you had just found out you were pregnant.”

His words hit you like a train and you stumbled back slightly, bracing yourself against a credenza to try to keep from falling to the floor.

“I realized I had to go back,” he continued, becoming a bit more passionate as he explained his plan.  “You couldn’t be convinced if you were pregnant with his child.  But if I was going to invert myself to try to confess my love for you sooner, I figured it would be easiest if I took it a step further and avoided the whole marriage itself.  You had told me once about the day you met him.  So, I went and found you in that coffeeshop, the day before.  And I recruited you to Tenet.  Truth was, we could’ve used you a lot sooner, so it was advantageous to the organization as well— which is why I got approved to be inverted by the boss himself.”

That hurt.  He was Neil’s friend, but he was your friend, too.  Had he known that when Neil went back to recruit you, he would irreparably alter the course of your life?  Or had he only realized later and decided not to try to correct it?

“Don’t look so heartbroken, darling,” he pouted, stepping forward and reaching out to gently rub your shoulder.  “We’re finally together.  Things are finally the way they should’ve been from the very beginning.”

You pushed his hand away and averted your gaze, unable to look at him anymore.  "I'm sorry, Neil, I can't do this— I can't live a lie," you shook your head, beginning to step away.

“No, you can’t go,” he breathed, desperation apparent in his tone along with his expression.  “You can’t go!  I finally got it right this time!”

“Is that why you were afraid I’d say no?” you realized with wide, watery eyes.  “Because I said it before?”

“Yes,” he admitted, faster than you expected.  “But—”

“How many times?”

There came the silence, his nostrils flaring as he crossed his arms and looked away.

“How many times did I reject your proposal, Neil?”

“...Fourteen.”

“Oh my god,” you sobbed, “Neil, you— you never gave me a choice, did you?  From the beginning?  Every time I tried to get away from you—”

“You always knew you belonged with me,” he posited fiercely.  “You always knew, it was why you kissed me that night, a year from now, on the bridge in Oslo.”

“That wasn’t me!” you cried.  “I was never married, Neil, I was never pregnant, I never kissed you on any godforsaken bridge!  You undid it all, and now you’re holding what I never did against me?”

“Even then you knew we were meant to be together,” he explained, stepping a little closer; out of love for the man you thought he was, you had a moment of sympathy for the man he had become, and let him pull you closer and cradle your face in his hands.  He wiped a stray tear from your cheek as he smiled down at you.

It almost felt right for a moment, but you couldn’t trick yourself into believing this was anything but wrong.  "I'm sorry, god, I'm so sorry," you whispered hoarsely as you turned to walk away— but he chased you and spun you back around, overpowering you as you tried to wriggle from his grasp.

“After everything I did for you,” he growled, grabbing your wrists tightly when you tried to get away, “you can’t just walk away from me.”

“You didn’t do any of this for me, Neil,” you spat as you struggled, “you did this for yourself.  You stole my life!”

“I saw your life, it was shit without me, okay?”

"But at least it was mine!"

He grabbed you by the shoulders and pinned you to the wall, making you yelp as he glared at you, eyes wild and teeth bared.  “I’ll just go back and do it again.  I’ll do it a million times until you stay with me forever, I swear.  So what’s the use in fighting me?  You’ll say yes, eventually.  Why don’t you save us both some time— in a sense— and just accept it now?”

This was a side of Neil you hadn’t seen before.  He wasn’t livid, he wasn’t violent (at least, not to the level you knew he could be), but he was undoubtedly threatening you… and you knew that he was right.  More than ever you were sure that he was going to keep doing this, keep taking you through the same loop until he got the outcome he wanted.  It was horrifying to imagine, but at least this way you could know the truth.  Maybe you could even find a way to escape him someday— you couldn’t even imagine how, but you might come up with something later.  You had all the time in the world, after all.

He softened slightly as he must have realized you were considering it, reaching down to pull your hands into his.  You glanced over at the sparkling diamond on your ring finger, remembering how ecstatic you had been to wear it just a few minutes ago.  Now it was a tiny gold shackle, each glimmer of the stone like a silent taunt.

Devastated, but with nowhere else to turn, you began to sob and allowed him to embrace you and pull you into him.  He held you close as you cried into his shoulder, terrified and confused and seeking comfort even if it was from the man who had imprisoned you in time.

“Shh,” he soothed gently, “it’s going to be alright, darling, take some deep breaths for me.  Can you do that?  In—” he inflated his chest, guiding you to breathe with him, which you did to the best of your ability—” and out…”

Smooth breaths were difficult with sobs vibrating your lungs, but you eventually managed to stabilize yourself as he guided you through a few more.  You resented that he knew you so well to be able to calm you down; you resented that your body trusted him enough for it to actually work.

“That’s it,” he praised softly, “you’re okay, it’s okay…”

~

You stared at yourself in the mirror, contemplating the way your face looked through the lacy white veil.  Silently, you wondered if this was how you looked at your first wedding; the one that never really happened, to the man you never got the chance to meet.  You liked to imagine that you looked happier than this, that your eyes were filled with excitement rather than resignation.  

A knock at the door didn’t even tear you from your trance, nor did the sound of it opening; only Neil’s reflection appearing beside yours in the mirror made you snap back into reality, if only slightly.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your ear.

“Bad luck…” you mumbled.  “It’s bad luck,” you began again, “for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

“I think we’ve had enough bad luck for a lifetime already,” he joked, making you furrow your brow and turn around, looking up at him.

He bore a startling resemblance to the man you’d fallen in love with, to the man you’d been ecstatic to marry when he got down on one knee for you in a nearly-abandoned safehouse in Moscow.  Even the way he smiled at you, his gaze so gentle as it scanned your face, was exactly the way he’d looked at you a thousand times— when you first met, as well.  The first time for you, at least.  He’d known you for years then; it was no wonder that he looked at you with such love, struck up a conversation that perfectly targeted your interests.  He must’ve spent years practicing to be your perfect man, until he finally got tired of the lie and trapped you in his twisted idea of the truth.

It made you question his motives for appearing suddenly and spoiling the surprise of you in your wedding gown— a sight he must have been dreaming of for years.

“Did I leave you at the altar?” you asked, below your breath.  “Is that why you’re here?  You came back to stop me?”

He chuckled lightly and brushed his fingers over your face.  “I don’t know yet.  This is the first time.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.  “How can I trust you?  How can I know you haven’t said that every time?”

He didn’t answer, instead leaning in to kiss you gently.  You closed your eyes, accepting that you could never really know the truth anymore.  Maybe someday you would become comfortable with unknowing, or at least complacent enough to tolerate it.

Walking down the aisle felt sort of like walking toward the gallows, but instead of death waiting for you at the end, there was a life of futility, an existence guided not by destiny or decision but by derangement: one man’s fight, against God and nature, to keep you to himself and steal you from the life you were once meant for.

You managed to keep your footsteps steady, glancing briefly to the pews scattered with parse friends and family— wasn’t much time for either of those with the kind of work you did.  All the time in the world, but not enough time for a real life.  That was why it had been so easy to fall for Neil, since he was one of a few people you spent significant time with.  Had that always been the nature of the job?  Or an orchestration by Neil himself, separating you from others until you couldn’t choose anyone but him?

Thankfully, you managed to get through the wedding without crying more than was appropriate or screaming at him or trying to run away.  You exchanged the vows and the rings, you kissed each other, the whole shebang.  Occasionally you actually managed to enjoy yourself, in those moments that you forgot this was all a hollow facade, greeting guests and listening to toasts and dancing with Neil— your new husband.

You forced yourself to keep up the image of a happy bride for the sake of your friends, and everyone who came here in expectation of a fun wedding.  It was what they deserved, even if it was costing you everything.

But once they were gone, you didn’t know how to play the part anymore.  You didn’t know how to swallow down the sick rising in your throat as Neil led you to the honeymoon suite, how to smile back at him when he looked at you with so much joy.

You didn’t know how to prepare yourself for what you knew he expected.

“I… should change out of this dress,” you realized once you were alone in the hotel room together, and he nodded his approval.  You knew if you looked at yourself in the mirror, you would cry, so instead you focused on getting out of your uncomfortable gown.  The lacy white lingerie underneath was intimidating, not for what it was but for what it symbolized.  You couldn’t go back out there like this, obviously— so you grabbed one of the puffy white robes, the hotel’s logo stitched onto the breast pocket, and you threw it on as you stormed out of the bathroom and directly to the balcony.

Tears threatened to burn your eyes as you looked out over the London skyline.  It was stunning, and it made you appreciate that you should be thankful for the freedoms you did have.  There was a big, beautiful world out there and you had the means and the motive to explore it all, if you wanted— you’d already seen more than most.  

But you still mourned for the life you never lived.  Some would argue that in an infinite number of alternate universes, you had the choice to leave him if you wanted to; and apparently, from what Neil had implied, you usually took it.  Yet, that was useless to you now.  The irony was not lost on you that you would be so spoiled as to hate your life when you were standing on the balcony of a luxurious hotel, in a gown that cost more than your first degree, with a gorgeous new husband and more money than either of you would ever have any use for.  You knew you were being petulant.  But something deeper longed for freedom, with everything it cost.  Does it matter how decadent a cage is, if you are still trapped in it?

The balcony door opened behind you, and you defiantly sniffled, quickly wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

“Darling?” Neil gently called to you.  “Is everything alright?”

You didn’t answer, fearing the waver in your voice would give you away.

“I know it’s all a little… overwhelming,” he relented, his voice coming closer along with his footsteps.  “But you really have nothing to worry about.  I think you’ll rather like it.”

“Like what?” 

He paused for a bit before he replied.  And when he did, he said it like it was obvious: “Being my wife.”

You turned to face him, expecting rage in your voice but hearing only sadness.  “And if I don’t?  You’ll just… go back, and do it again until I do?”

He sighed a little, seeming hurt by the question.  “Please, darling, it’s our wedding night,” he cooed, “you can’t hate me.  Let me remind you how good we are together…”

His touch was distantly familiar, and against your better judgement you relaxed a bit and let him pull you closer, his cheek brushing against yours as he spoke beside your ear.

“I never inverted for this,” he explained with a whisper, fingertips grazing over your arm.  “I didn’t learn your kinks, memorize your body and then go back to impress you from the beginning.  The first time we were together… it was the first time for both of us.  And it was perfect.  Do you remember?”

You nodded.

“Tell me,” he instructed, lifting your chin to tenderly kiss your neck.

“Paris,” you sighed.  “We were posing as lovers to check in to a hotel without arousing suspicion.  I’d been enamored with you since I first met you and I thought maybe you felt the same way, but I told you we couldn’t be together because of Tenet…”

“But I kissed you anyway,” he reminded you.

“And I didn’t care about Tenet anymore,” you remembered.  “I just needed to feel you.  And we made love for hours— nearly missed our signal to get out of the building.”

He chuckled lightly against your skin, his fingers leaving goosebumps where they travelled across your back.  “It was worth it,” he decided.  “It was beautiful.”

You pulled back and looked up at him, finding so much love in his eyes, and you searched desperately within yourself for a way to love him in return again after what he’d done.  

Swallowing, you slid your fingers into his hair and examined his face one more time, illuminated in the faintly bluish glow of the city lights.

“Go back,” you whispered.

“What?”

“I need you to go back,” you repeated.  “To the day you proposed.  Don’t tell me the truth this time.”

Realization dawned on his face, somber but calm.

“I’ll be yours, Neil,” you promised, “forever, like you wanted.  But I can’t live like this.  I can’t live knowing what you’ve done.  And I can’t live with myself if I know that I gave in to you.”

“I hate to leave you on our wedding night,” he argued, turning away slightly— but you held his face and pulled him back to look at you.

“Do this for me,” you pleaded.  “Consider it a wedding present.”

He gave you a small, sad smile before he embraced you again.  "Anything for you," he whispered as he kissed you on the top of your head.

~

Neil all but kicked the door down as he carried you in his arms, unable to break the kiss even for a moment to open the door properly.

He stumbled around the room a bit before he finally tossed you onto the bed, eliciting a girlish squeal as the puffy layers of your wedding gown's elaborate skirt flipped up over your head.  Growling playfully as he climbed atop you and slotted himself between your legs, you pushed your dress out of the way to look up at him.

As your laughter died down and you examined his face, you were compelled to reach up and hold his jaw in your hand; he turned his face slightly to kiss your palm as you caressed his cheek.

"I love you," you sighed as you brushed a stray strand of hair back out of his face.

"I love you too," he smiled, "more than you could ever know."

You rolled your eyes.  "There goes my husband with his crypticness again."

He hummed at the title, kissing you again.  You figured you were lucky he didn’t rip the dress as he got you out of it, growling when he saw your lacy white lingerie underneath.  “You really are too good to me, darling,” he purred, leaning down to capture a nipple between his teeth through the fabric until your back arched.  “All wrapped up for me like a pretty little present…”

You whined when he slipped his fingers down between your legs, toying with you and refusing to just pull the panties aside and get on with it.  Of course he had to draw it out, savor every inch of you, but did he have to drive you so crazy along the way?

"Neil, please," you whimpered, "need you…"

"I know," he soothed between heavy breaths, kissing down your chest and stomach until he reached where you'd nearly soaked through your flimsy lace.  He kissed your swollen clit right through the fabric— damn him that just that little touch made you moan and grab his hair.  He loved seeing the effect he had on you, it was clear by the way he grinned and did it again, a little firmer, relishing in the way you squirmed.

Finally, he pulled your panties aside; although of course he did it tantalizingly slow before sliding his tongue through your folds, moaning lowly when you accidentally pulled his hair a bit.

He looked so damn good with his face between your thighs, staring up at you and holding you in place with his petrifying gaze.  His eyes were always uncharacteristically dark when he did this to you, like he'd been waiting all his life for this moment.  Like the taste of you drove him wild.

You shuddered when he pushed his tongue inside you, instantly putting pressure against the most delicate places inside you.  When the pleasure threatened to become too intense and you instinctively tried to squirm away, his strong hands gripped your thighs and held you down nearly effortlessly, likely leaving marks on your skin for you to notice tomorrow, to remind you that you were his.  As if the ring wasn’t enough.

“Fuck,” you groaned, “please— please let me come.”

You didn’t always ask him for permission, but he always gave it when you did.  So you weren’t expecting him to grin and stop his task to suck a hickey onto your thigh.  “Not quite yet,” he purred.  “I need you to ask really, really nicely…”

“Um,” you stalled, distracted by watching him leave a trail of marks along your skin with his teeth, “please… don’t stop, Neil, please let me come… I’ll do anything, you know I will.”

“That’s already true,” he reminded you, snarling as he gave your pussy a sudden spank; you yelped and jolted from the impact, but it ended with a moan and more wetness gathering at your hole.  “You can’t be so obedient all the time and try to use it as a bargaining tool, darling.  You know better than that.  Offer me something I don’t have.”

“If you let me come,” you pondered your potential options as you bit your lip and rocked your hips up in hopes of friction, “I’ll… make dinner, every night, for a week—”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“A month!” you blurted out instead.

“You’re negotiating against yourself,” he chuckled, slapping you right on your clit and making you cry out.  “And you’re not much of a cook.”

You were teetering on the edge, desperate for any leverage you could grapple onto, keening for just a touch more stimulation to bring you the rest of the way— and you were so fucking close.  You could only think of one thing Neil wanted, that he didn’t have, that you could give.  And it was a stupid idea, but you needed to offer him something fast before those dreaded spanks between your thighs made you come before he’d given permission.

“We can fuck on a mission,” you announced through your teeth.  Finally, you felt like you had his attention.  The only time that had ever happened was the one time you let it happen— the first time.  The next day you’d had a long conversation about how you weren’t going to let feelings interfere with the job; he agreed, and since then the two of you had done a pretty good job of separating business and pleasure.  Although he did occasionally get irritated with your work in the field and take it out on you that night in bed, but that doesn’t count, right?

“Really?” he mused.  “Whatever happened to boundaries?  What happened to ‘respecting the other team members’?”

“They don’t need to know,” you explained.  “Please, Neil, I really really need to cum.”

He pressed a thumb to your clit and drew slow, relaxed circles— just slow and relaxed enough to make sure you couldn’t come from it.  You sobbed and let your head fall back, exhausted of his teasing.  “How can you be sure you’ll be discreet enough?  You’re not exactly… subtle,” he smirked, your moans now exactly proving his point.

“Can’t be loud with my mouth full,” you countered, and his smile finally fell.  You finally had a bit of power back.

“You’d really suck me off on a mission?”

“If you can promise to keep quiet,” you chuckled.

He growled a bit as he dove back in, the sudden pleasure forcing a deep moan from your lips.  “Fuck,” he mumbled against you, “so dirty for me, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agreed as you bit down on your lip.  “God, I’m close, just don’t stop…”

“As long as you keep up your end of the deal,” he smirked, and you nearly forced his head back down between your legs but thankfully, he kept his mouth shut after that— well not quite shut, just busy, and before you knew it the pressure that built in your gut finally flowed over and you sobbed his name at the peak of your orgasm.

He kept going for just a moment too long, sending white hot shocks up your spine from the overstimulation, but thankfully he slowed down and pulled back, licking his lips and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

With that out of the way, and you nearly melted into the bed at this point, he sat up and hastily opened his belt and fly while he gazed down upon you with a burning hot stare.

"I should return the favor," you offered, sitting up slightly and reaching to wrap your hand around his length, but he shook his head.

"I’ll get my chance, but right now I just need to be inside you,” he explained gruffly.  “Can’t spend another moment without being buried in this gorgeous cunt of yours; I might die if I can’t have you now.”

"Well, if it's a matter of life and death," you grinned, poorly faking indifference as he shoved you back and caged you in, guiding his cock to your dripping wet entrance.

“Ready, darling?” he prompted quietly as you felt the head of him prodding at you.  You nodded, and yet you still gasped and clutched his forearms when he pushed into you.  It was like the first time every time, with the way his thick length speared into you and stretched you open, but you craved it regardless; by now it wasn’t even pain, just raw sensation that pushed your limits in all the right ways.  He sighed a bit when his hips met yours, already pulling back and setting the pace of his thrusts.    

Even with how wet you were, there was friction just from the size of him, but it was the right kind of friction— a smooth, slow drag against your walls that compelled you to wrap your legs around his hips and hold him deep inside you.

“Is that how you want it?” he interrogated.  “Deep?”  You nodded and he chuckled a little.  “I can do that.”

He stopped moving only for a moment to grab your legs and push them up, such that when he thrusted again, the tip of his cock hit the furthest places inside you and you choked on your own moan.  "Fuck!" you croaked, eyes shooting open and hands reaching out to clutch his shoulders.

"How deep am I inside you?" he asked coyly, well aware of the answer already.

"So deep,” you slurred, barely able to form words with a heavy tongue and empty lungs, “all the way…"

"Good."  He leaned down and growled against your ear.  "I hope I knock you up tonight."

His words shocked you, in the best possible way.  You surprised even yourself with the way your body reacted, and your hands were almost moving of their own accord as they grabbed his face and pulled him into a deep, needy kiss.

“Neil,” you mumbled as you broke it just enough to look up at him, “put a baby in me.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, thrusting into you faster than ever, “I will, darling…”

He was unstoppably filthy after that, relentlessly pounding into you, claiming your entire body as he whispered unimaginably dirty things in your ear.

"I know you want it so badly, darling, I know you need to be filled with my seed… can't wait to see you all round and glowing with my baby in you."

You didn't understand his emphasis on the word "my,” as if it could ever be anyone else's!  But you didn't really notice that very much, too busy crying out at the feeling of him stretching you out and reaching the deepest places inside of you.  “Neil, please— I’m so close, want you to come with me,” you whimpered.  

“Yeah?  Wanna squeeze my cock with this pretty little cunt while I fill you up, darling?” 

“Please,” you sobbed, and you were sure you’d never needed him this bad; never needed anything this bad.

Deep little growls coming from between his teeth signified that he was close, and you felt your body tightening around him as you reached your peak one more time, much more intense than before and so much louder than you meant for it to be.  He finally spilled inside of you, painting your walls with his spend as you whimpered and began to descend from your high.  His body relaxed atop yours, though his arms wrapped around you to hold you close.  After a few moments of that, he fell onto his back and you laid your head on his chest, humming happily at the feeling of his warmth seeping out of you.  You were confident you’d be sore all over tomorrow, but you couldn’t feel it now as the afterglow served as a painkiller, keeping you numb and happy while you cuddled into him.

His arm around your shoulders pulled you closer so he could kiss your forehead.  You looked up at him, admiring the way he looked horribly disheveled and yet entirely perfect; he looked back at you, smiling softly.

"Can't believe you're finally mine," he sighed wistfully, "forever."

[lafourmii20]

My favorite pairing is probably DrPepperony if I had to choose one, and I'm a sucker for 30 (the protective one). While I tend to swerve to "people protecting Stephen", please write it however you'd like - if you're interested in this combination. :)

Thank you for the ask, @aelaer 💕

I love drpepperony and I was very happy to write this OT3 with this prompt. It's a bit longer than I thought, and maybe not exactly what you imagined. I hope you like it!

~~~

drpepperony, pre-relationship (could almost be read as gen), hurt stephen, with a bit of blood, protective pepper, protective tony, not clint friendly (sorry i had to find sort of a bad guy), post Endgame but Tony lives and Steve died

~~~

“If you’re so powerful, why couldn’t you save her?!”

Clint’s shout echoed on the lawn, all the way to the cabin. Tony instantly got to his feet.

“Stay with uncle Happy, Maguna.”

He left his drink on a table, and his daughter under Happy’s careful watch, and hurried outside. When he pushed the front door, he frowned, deeply unhappy with the scene.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen whispered in such a thin voice Tony wasn’t sure anyone heard him –not sure the guy even wanted to be heard.

“You’re sorry? Is that what you just mumbled?” Clint answered, his tone getting angrier and angrier with each word.

“I am truly deeply sorry,” Stephen articulated more clearly this time.

It did not seem to appease Clint. At all.

“Well, great! You’re sorry. But Nat is dead because of you. And your sorry ass apologies won’t do shit to bring her back!”

Clint was furious. He was grieving. But he was taking it out on the wrong guy.

“It’s all your fault!”

Stephen didn’t move, didn’t even blink when Clint lurched forward and punched him square in the face. He fell backwards and blood splattered on the ground.

“It’s all your fucking fault!” Clint bellowed as Sam and Bucky restrained him, tried to stop him from attacking again.

He almost tore free, and Tony took a step forward. He was all for letting his fellow Avengers sort things out between themselves the way they wanted to –and if they had to punch some sense into each other from time to time, well it was their business. But no one was getting beaten up, without even trying to resist, on his lawn.

But before Tony could say anything, Pepper stepped into the scene.

“What is going on here?” she asked in her no-nonsense voice. Se didn’t wait for someone to answer –as if there even was a correct way to answer when she used that voice. “No one is fighting in my home! Today, we celebrate those we brought back, and we grieve those we lost. This is not a time for fighting and I will not tolerate it. Is that clear?”

Clint might try to protest, there was no way he would sway Pepper. He was an Avenger. She was even more dangerous, Tony thought with pride. Looked like he could let his wife handle the dirty business.

He crossed the lawn, got to the poor wizard still slumped on the ground, haggard and defeated. His nose was bleeding profusely, and the corner of his eye was starting to turn purple. Tony grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Come on. Let me take care of you.”

Stephen looked up at him. There was a deep sadness, a resigned look in his eyes that broke Tony’s heart. Then Stephen got up and it was gone. They walked silently through the crowd, crossed the lawn and reached the house. Tony pushed him as carefully as he could in a bathroom.

“Here we go,” he said softly, helping Stephen sit on the edge of the tub. “Fri, where’s the first aid kit?”

“Under the sink, boss,” the AI answered immediately and Tony dived under the sink to retrieve the little box, opening it to get some cotton balls and antiseptic, though he wasn’t sure what to do with those. “May I suggest the ice pack, boss?”

“You’re the best, baby girl.”

“Of course,” she answered, and Tony chuckled.

He went back to Stephen with a slightly wet towel to wipe off the blood while he handed him the cold pack. Stephen’s fingers shook wildly when he took it and pressed it on the side of his head, with a painful wince.

“You don’t have to do all this,” the Wizard of Oz finally said. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, look in the mirror, doc, and tell that to your face,” Tony scoffed.

He got a brief glimpse of a smile before he moved the towel over nose, lips, chin, and all the mess of blood that covered Stephen’s face.

“Why didn’t you send Clint to the Sinister Dimension or whatever the name of that hellish world is?” Tony asked, trying not to wince with Stephen every time the towel stroked over a sensitive area.

“Dark Dimension,” Stephen corrected.

“Sure.”

A moment of silence passed. Tony took the time to rinse the blood out of the towel before applying it again. It seemed like the bleeding had stopped. That only left the big ugly contusion at the corner of Stephen’s eye. Ouch, that looked painful.

“Fri, can you scan our good doctor? Make sure there are no deeper wounds?”

“I’m fine,” Stephen protested with another wince that said otherwise.

“Fri?”

“The good doctor is right, boss. No deeper injury.”

“Great.”

As Tony looked at the slumped and beaten up form in front of him, it seemed that nothing was great. If there were no physical wounds, it seemed that there was a more profound, more painful, psychological one. That man was wounded, burned out, and morally exhausted. And Tony was suddenly filled with the impulse to help him, to fix this, whatever this was.

He wanted to see the powerful and cocky sorcerer he clashed with, when they first met.

He wanted the weirdly flirty wink after great prowess of magic, and butting heads with someone that didn’t take his nonsense but actually listened to him, and compromised.

“So, why didn’t you stop him?” he asked again after a minute of almost comfortable silence.

He threw the bloody towel in the laundry basket and leaned against the sink, watching Stephen intently.

“Because he’s grieving. And he’s right,” Stephen answered in a too small voice.

Defeated.

Tony was not taking any of it. If Pepper had to protect Stephen from Clint, Tony would have to protect Stephen from himself, apparently. It was far from the weirdest thing he had ever done.

“Bullshit. It’s not your fault.”

Stephen arched an eyebrow behind the cold pack, before he winced and dropped it. Tony picked it up for him and, instead of giving it back to the wizard, he brought it up to Stephen’s face and gently hold it up against his temple. Stephen just sighed, closed his eyes for a second, letting Tony take care of him. The situation was slightly more intimate than Tony anticipated but it warmed his heart to see Stephen accept his help. And yeah, he could see himself get closer to the wizard in the near future.

“It’s not your fault,” he repeated.

“It kinda is. I chose this path, the one where Natasha and Steve had to die. Their deaths are on my hands.”

“That’s just pure bullshit! You didn’t push Nat on Vormir, she jumped. You didn’t put the gauntlet on Steve’s hand, he took it and snapped his own fingers knowing he would not survive it. You did not murder them. They chose to sacrifice themselves to save us all, and believe me, I would have done the same thing, without blaming you. You know what you did?”

“Wallow in self-pity, dishonoring their great sacrifice?” he whispered defeated and seemingly disgusted with himself.

“No.” Damn, that man really needed to be protected from himself. Tony knew a thing or two about blaming himself for everything, but Strange was on another level completely. “You put us on the right path, you risked your sanity to view all those possible futures and other timeline. You are a hero.”

That seemed to finally shut Stephen up. He blinked, looked up at Tony, but this time, there was something different in his eyes. A deep emotion Tony couldn’t really name. It made his heart race.

Stephen’s hand rose, lightly touched Tony’s at the side of his head. It was delicate and far more intimate than he expected. But before Tony could say anything else, the bathroom’s door opened, and Pepper stepped in.

Stephen quickly took his hand away, but Tony kept his position. There was nothing he wanted to hide from his wife. Besides, if something ever happened with the wizard, he was pretty sure Pepper would want to be included. Yep, that would be very nice actually, the three of them in the cabin. Tony could almost picture it.

Wait, he was thinking a bit ahead of himself, wasn’t he? Well, who could blame him, he was a futurist, after all.

“Are you okay, Dr. Strange?” Pepper asked.

“You can call me Stephen. And yes, I’m okay. Tony took care of me.”

Pepper looked at her husband. Tony winked, she smirked in return. His hand was still pressed against Stephen’s head –there was a cold pack between them, but did that really matter?

Pepper went to Stephen’s other side, carefully took his chin in her hand to examine him –and there was no cold pack or any medical supply to excuse the proximity. Stephen tensed for a second, then he relaxed in her grip.

“You did well,” Pepper finally concluded, with a small stroke on Stephen’s cheek. The wizard shuddered. Then she stepped back and the fluttering moment was over. “Tony, you stay with him, I’m gonna send everyone home,” she ordered more than asked.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Tony answered immediately.

“And Stephen?”

“Yes?”

“Stay for dinner with us tonight. Please?”

A moment of hesitation, blue-green eyes jumping from Tony to Pepper, a gulp and finally.

“I will.”

Well, well, well, Tony thought. That was a very interesting turn of events. He couldn’t wait to see where all of this would lead them.

~~~

Inspired by this intimacy prompt list

Prompts filled: 3. touching foreheads (ironstrangefrost) 23. wearing someone’s clothing (ironstrange) 29. kissing while mad (ironstrange) 59. height difference (ironstrange)

[doubleshotofsomething]

To Hell & Back

Part Four:  “My wings are frayed and what’s left of my halo’s black”

--

Summary: Your exit strategy involves your neighbour... Well, it is your neighbour.

Prompt: "I don't want to live on this planet anymore."

Warnings: swearing. (Typos that will be fixed). That's it??

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

-----

Series Masterlist

-----

You weren't always this...angry.

You weren't always this spiteful and short tempered, and malicious enough to deliberately poison muffins.

At one point in life, you were everything you'd ever wanted in a friend. Kind and compassionate. Even patience was a virtue you had an abundance of.

Then, one day, some guy from Asgard came with an army of aliens and ripped a hole through your father's finances. Apparently damaging a bunch of buildings, including the one your father worked at, was bad for business and so it closed down.

Just as your mother's job had barely managed to get your family out of the red, her boss gets murdered at some important meeting that blew up – along with some world leaders. In her boss's place, the son took over and ran the company into the ground.

Luckily, your sister had a bakery that made just enough to cover your parents' costs and your summer jobs had saved you enough to get you through college. Then, some other guy came with another alien army, and decided to take half the world with him – or whatever he did

The wrong half of the world, in your opinion. You could have lived without watching your sister's husband run her business into the ground. And life would have been a little easier if you didn't have to stretch yourself thin, to make sure your mother saw the next day.

"Then half the world came back," you continue, eyes focused on the cat. "And some random family showed up in my apartment. I'm pretty sure the husband had a heart attack when he saw me–"

Bucky places another beer in front of you. You hate the taste, but coffee on an empty stomach has never worked well for you.

"–so I moved," you take a final sip of your second beer, before placing it down and reaching for the one he just placed in front of you. "Now, I'm here. Stuck with a nosy neighbour and his cat."

"You can keep her." Bucky sighs, leaning against the wall next to you. Your shoulders brush. "I don't know the first thing about cats."

You frown and look up at him. "Barnes... You are cat. And I already have you, why would I want another one?"

He scoffs, blue eyes meeting yours. "I am not that kind of lady."

"Oh god," you roll your eyes.

"Gotta buy me dinner first, doll–"

"Not a doll."

"Maybe take me dancing," he continues, lips twitching at the sight of your scowl. "If you're lucky, I might invite you in for tea."

You glance at the coffee machine, still boxed, sitting on his counter but don't comment. You know what it means, you know why he bought it, and the thought alone makes you queasy.

So you look back at the cat, curled on your bare lap, and sigh. "Sorry I came in without pants."

You don't say anything else and he chuckles. He found you in nothing but an old shirt and socks that night, so he's not really surprised.

"Sorry I helped you without a shirt." He replies. He would've answered you immediately, the second you said his name, but he had to find pants first.

Silence falls between the both of you, and it takes actual effort for Bucky to look away from you. Tempering down the disappointment that has the audacity to knaw at you, at your stubbornness, you turn back to the screen of his laptop.

He was reviewing CCTV footage of your building's basement garage. Two hours into the viewing and he heard you calling him from the balcony, so he had to pause.

Now, four hours, three beers on your side and a weird trip down memory lane later – you're helping him sift through footage at a faster rate.

"So," you begin, eyes glued to the screen. "I have a question, about that whole serum thing."

"Hmm?" It's the first question you've ever asked about that part of him, that part of his history.

"How does it work when it comes to diseases?"

Blinking, Bucky has to pause the video to look at you. "Diseases?"

You nod. "Like flu, chicken pox, tonsillitis. You know, that stuff."

"I'm confused–"

"Do you not get it or does it run through you like water?"

"What?"

"Or does your immune system just basically butcher it within the hour?" You blink at him, eyes wide with curiosity. "'Cause like, I had this friend with one helluva immune system. He never got sick, so does it work like that?"

He pauses, lips pursing as he considers you. "Do you wanna know if my blood cells can cure AIDS?"

"If that were the case, you'd be in a CDC off-site lab right now–" you put down the beer you've been cradling. "–so, no. I wanna know what kind of illness can knock a super soldier out long enough for me to use it as an excuse."

He blinks. Once. Twice. "Huh?!"

"Saturday is in a few days."

Oh.

"What does that have to do with me?" His face scrunches up into the most confused expression you've ever seen.

"As we both know," you narrow your eyes at him. "Ever since you saved my life, like the asshole you are, my parents have taken a liking to you. And since I poisoned their favourite couple last week, I'm in deep shit this week unless I can find a good reason to not show up."

"I'm not gonna apologise for saving you."

You raise an eyebrow. "Of course not. That would mean admitting it was very selfish of you."

This is not how he expected this conversation to go. Or how he wanted it to go. So, he decides to turn back to the screen and continue watching the footage.

You know you struck a nerve, and it would be easier for you to blame it on the beer, but you can't. You want answers, just as much as he does.

You want to know what gave him the right to knock down your door, or the audacity to have his friend fly you to the hospital. He won't straight up tell you, you tried when you woke up in the ICU and found him there, and it pisses you off that he might not ever tell you.

Bucky frowns at the screen. "The camera's get switched off right after I leave–" he glances at you. "Did you bribe security to switch them off?"

"We have security?"

"The guys at the front desk?"

You frown at him. You know those guys, you bring them baked goodies from work three times a week.

"Hang on," you place the cat on the couch next to you, cross your legs and turn to move closer to him. "Let me get this straight."

Your knees gently press into his thigh and he forced to look at you.

"You're telling me that Laurence with sinuses, down in the lobby, and Percy with the three-legged rabbit. Those guys–" of course you'd know that. "–they're security? For this apartment building? We have security?"

"You can't be serious–"

"We have a biometric system at the door and like cameras, and a patrol car that frequents this neighbourhood–" you're pressing a little to hard on your fingers and he's worried you just might snap one off. "–what the hell do we need security guards for?"

You continue rattling off all the safety measures the building has, which means your fingers have to suffer throughout the list, unless he does something about it.

Which he does. Almost as if instinct, his hands are clasping yours before he can make the decision to reach for them. They're warm and cold against yours, but the right kind of warm and cold that makes you frown at them.

His hands swallow yours, which isn't something that surprises you. It's the way you're not pulling away, the way you're not fighting it, the way you can't blame the alcohol because it almost feels...normal.

You haven't felt normal in such a long time.

"You gonna stop tryna break your fingers?" Bucky starts. "Or do I have to stay like this 'til you knock out?"

You blink. "Does a concussion knock you out long enough to warrant an excuse?"

"You're relentless."

"Says the guy watching CCTV footage because of a cat."

"It's... For a good cause."

"Me missing Saturday dinner is a good cause, Barnes."

He sighs. "Doll–"

"–I'll owe you one."

Bucky is about to argue, his mouth was halfway open before your words registered. That's really what happened.

It's not like he was looking for an opening or anything. A way of asking you, that wouldn't resort in an argument or anything.

It's not like those were the words he's been waiting for, for quite some time now.

Not at all.

Of course not.

But, who is he to argue with the mysterious workings of a universe.

The room you're in is dimly lit, the only light originating from the kitchen and the streetlights. But you can still see that dangerous glint in his eyes.

He grins. "Is that right?"

You swear you heard yourself gulp.

-----

"Okay–" you're fidgety and anxious, and can't seem to stand still as the elevator doors close. "–now, let's go through this again. What's our exit strategy?"

Bucky turns to fully face you. He's been trying to keep you calm ever since the parking lot, but even he can admit that he was far too distracted to be helpful.

It wasn't even his fault he was distracted, it was completely yours. When he invited you to Sarah's party , the party celebrating the expansion of the success revamp of the boat business, he had said to dress comfortably.

Not dress like you were put on this Earth to be the end of him.

He was waiting in the parking lot, the same one that had the camera's switched off right after he left, when you came barrelling towards him.

You had narrowly escaped your sister. She was getting off the elevator just as you were nearing it, so you quickly opted for the staircase beside it. You were a flurry of floral black and white and pink in a summer dress, your hair barely in place – you tried using pins and thought about ribbons, but then forgot about them when you couldn't find your other shoe – as you basically pushed him inside the car.

You used the passenger window to try and fix your hair, as best as you could. And he spent the drive trying to reassure you that you looked fine.

You looked more than fine, but he couldn't seem to muster up the words.

"Doll–"

"Not a doll." Is your automated response.

"You look fine, " sweet as sugar, is what he wants to say. "And, well, there is no exit strategy."

You gape up at the mammoth of a man in front of you. His words, a ballad of heathens in your book, echoes in your head.

"No exit strategy?" You whine, fisting his shirt as you desperately meet his eyes. "Bucky, no. Please. You can't do this."

The elevator doors open before he can respond to you. Sam is waiting on the other side of the doors, champagne glasses in both hands.

Hands still gripping into Bucky's shirt, hair almost presentable, Bucky's face flushing from hearing you say his name, and your expression portraying pure fluster. You and Bucky both turn to find Sam staring at the scene in front of him.

His eyebrows shoot up, golden brown eyes lighting up at the sight. "Okay. This definitely makes up for you being late."

Bucky blinks, seeming to snap out of his stupor. "Wait, wha–"

"No–" Sam cuts in. "–I know how you 40s guys are about kissin' and telling. I won't pry."

"Hang on, Sam–"

"Bathroom's on the next floor," he has the audacity to grin. "Just be quick about it. The speech's in twenty minutes."

With that, he steps away from the elevator, gives a curt nod and – with a Cheshire grin – walks away.

You slowly peel your hands away from Bucky and take a few steps back.

Bucky clears his throat. "So, about the exit strategy..."

---

TAGS :D : @sunflowerxbarnes , @ginger-swag-rapunzel , @arctic-duchess , @sltwins , @thewayilookatbacon , @buckyisperfect , @paryl

[bluefirewrites]

I'm sorry about your presentation, idk if your still doing hcs but can you do one where Reggie is julies older brother by 1 or 2 years and Julie in love with Luke and Luke likes her as well but neither will do anything because of Reggie. If not its ok. ☺

I brought up an idea similar to this a while back! But let’s rework it. 

In this scenario, let’s say that the Molinas and the Peters' have known each other for a long while, ever since Julie and Reggie were kids. They’ve pretty much grown up together. 

And then they get older and a lot of shit happens. Julie’s mom dies. And Reggie’s parents finally get a divorce. 

As the two families are healing and trying to move on, eventually Ray and Reggie’s mom sorta just clicked. 

And years later, they ended up getting married- officially making Reggie Julie’s brother. 

They move into the Molina’s house and they transition to one big family so seamlessly that Julie often forgets that Reggie isn’t her brother in the biological sense. He’s always been an older figure to her, always looking out for her and Carlos. 

She’s so used to having him around. And even used to having Reggie’s friends around growing up. 

They all met when they were in middle school, but Julie hasn’t seen them much over the years, only seeing them during special occasions or whenever she would go to the Peters’ from time to time. 

She remembers Alex, the shy blonde one who does his best to keep the peace when everyone got too rowdy. 

And then Bobby, who is just hitting his stride in his sullen, moody teenager phase. Still nice though. 

And Luke, the wild one. The guy was all long haired, energetic, and sporting some gnarly braces the last time she saw him. 

She hears a knock at the door the night Reggie and his mom had moved in. Julie opens it and it’s the boys: Alex, Bobby, and- woah. 

“Julie?” Luke smiles, his long hair cut to a still shaggy ‘do, braces gone, and now ripped, telling by how he’s proudly wearing his Nirvana cutoffs, “No way! Long time no see,” 

“Y-yeah,” Julie instantly wishes that she wasn’t wearing her dinosaur slippers at the moment. She leads them all inside, telling them to make themselves at home while they wait for Reggie to come down. 

Julie hurries off to her room, red in the face, internally freaking out about the idea of a cute guy coming over to her house on a regular basis. 

A cute guy she cannot get involved with... imagine how Reggie would react... 

The guys note the dreamlike expression on Luke’s face as he watched Julie go up the stairs. Once she’s gone, Luke whirls around, “Has she always been like that?” 

“Squirrely?” 

“No...” Luke drops his voice down to a whisper, “I mean, has she always been that cute?” 

Alex and Bobby shoots this idea down real quick, “Woah! No no no! Off-limits! She's off-limits, Luke!” 

“How come?” 

“She’s Reggie’s sister,” 

“Step-sister,” 

“Still,” Bobby cuts in, “You know Reggie. He takes the brother role very seriously. He won’t let you stand a foot away from her if he heard what you just said.” 

“If who heard what?” Reggie says, coming down the stairs. 

“Nothing!” They all exclaim, and Luke silently thanks the boys for not ratting him out and invoking Reggie’s wrath. 

He does know how Reggie can get when it comes to Julie. He’s already so protective of her. So he’s not going to try and do anything to piss him off. 

And besides, he just finds her cute. It’s not like anything’s gonna come from it. 

Wrong. 

Luke and Julie are hardcore pining for each other the more time the boys spend over at the house. 

And they’re over a lot. 

Julie would come into the garage, now a studio space for the boys’ band, and watches them practice. 

Somehow Luke finds a way to gravitate towards her. Always standing beside her, ready to show a song he’s been working on or just ask how she’s doing. 

And Julie would find an excuse to hang around the boys, whether offering to help with songwriting or help clean up the equipment. One time, she hands Luke his guitar and their hands met. They both blush but quickly part before Reggie could see what transpired. 

They sneak little casual touches here and there, both to gauge if the other person reciprocates their feelings and to hide whatever was going on between them from Reggie. 

This all coming from the fear of Reggie flipping out on them. 

Apparently when the boys bring up Nick from Julie’s class, joking about the way he was starry-eyed when dancing with Julie (secretly trying to get a rise out of Luke), Reggie immediately asks Julie about a thousand questions: 

“Who is he? What does he do?” 

“Do? He’s a student. In my grade...” 

“Oh. No job? So he’s a deadbeat, huh? Doesn’t sound like a suitable match,” 

“What are you going on about?”

“Does he like the Star Wars Prequels? Yes or No? There is a right answer” 

“What does this have to do with anything, Reggie?”

“I need to know if he’s good enough for you!” 

Reggie starts watching Nick like a hawk at school, going out of his way to intimidate the junior (well as much as he could. he’s still pretty much a puppy and super non-threatening). 

It’s getting ridiculous. 

So Julie goes to talk to Luke, to try and nip this in the bud before Reggie notices their weird behavior. She manages to play off needing help to get something in the laundry room to get him alone without suspicion. 

“Look, we can’t do this anymore... whatever this is,” 

Luke nods, “Agreed. Reggie’s my best friend.” 

“And he’s my brother,” 

“I don’t want to do something that would upset him,” 

“Me neither. Glad we’re on the same page,” 

“Right. Same page. So just friends. Deal?” she sticks her hand out. 

He shakes it, “Deal,” 

They lock eyes, appreciating how the other one looks under the warm dimmed light. 

It takes only about .5 seconds for them to crash their lips onto each other’s, igniting a full on make out session. And by the time they finished, they realize their mistake. 

Uh oh. 

They can’t go back after this. 

Now they really have something to hide from Reggie. 

They sneak around the house, whenever they could. 

Luke would make up an excuse to grab water or go to the bathroom in the middle of rehearsal, just to sneak up to Julie’s room to grab a quick kiss and maybe a small tickle fight just so he could hear that laugh he loves so much. 

And Julie would join the boys at the dinner table, sitting next to him and discreetly slipping cue love notes into his pocket that she knows would make him blush and smile all goofily later (and if they turn into potential song lyrics? Well that's for them to know).

Alex warns Luke the next day, “I think he’s catching on. Be more careful,” 

They spend more time together now that Julie starts writing songs for the band. Her and Luke would huddle over the piano, scribbling the night away, always sitting dangerously close to each other.

Once, Reggie observes them quietly from the couch with an unreadable expression on bis face.

“We are careful,” 

Bobby raises an eyebrow at him, “Really? You tried to pass off the hickeys on Julie’s neck as rashes.” 

“And Reggie bought it, remember? He went out and got ointment for her and everything,” 

“He’s not stupid, Luke. You better do something about this. Fast,” 

Luke sighs, “You’re right.” 

Later that night, Luke pulls Julie into the upstairs bathroom, the one between her room and Reggie’s, to talk. 

“Jules, as much I want to keep doing this... I can’t stand lying to Reggie,” 

“Me too,” she says, “So, let’s just tell him. I don’t like hiding you.” 

“But we need to plan it out. We can’t just spring it on him,” 

“Catch him in a good mood hopefully, and we’ll tell him together,” 

“Sounds like a plan, boss,” 

“Love it when you call me boss,” Julie smiles, angling her head up to kiss him. 

Just then, the door connecting to Reggie’s room bursts open and the said bassist enters in his bathrobe. His eyes grow wide at the sight of them tangled up in each other. 

“What is going on here?” 

The couple breaks apart. Julie and Luke jump to opposite sides of the bathroom, hands up in surrender. 

“You didn’t lock the doors?” Julie hisses at Luke

“Was not my main priority!” Then Luke steps forward in an attempt to calm Reggie down, “Hey, Reg, pal, um, what you just saw-” 

“You guys were kissing in here?” he yells. 

Julie and Luke lower their heads, “...yeah,” 

Reggie sighs, throwing his hands up in the air, “Unbelievable!”

“Reggie, we’re sorry-” 

“In the bathroom, really? Can’t you guys do this in the laundry room like you usually do? My toothbrush is here, come on!”  

Wait. What?

Did they hear him correctly? 

“You knew?!” Julie all but screamed at her brother. 

“Duh. You’re not really subtle,” 

Luke splutters, “B-But Nick-” 

“Found out real quick that he’s not the one I should be worried about,”

“And the... the, well..?”  Julie gestures lamely at her neck, “Why did you get me ointment?” 

Reggie smirks, “Just to mess with you.” 

“So... you’re not mad?”

“Nah. Like I said. I need to make sure whatever guy you end up with, Jules, is good enough for you. And, well, I’ve known Luke almost all my life. And I trust him. Honestly, there’s no other guy I could think of that could be a better match for you.” 

Luke’s hand rests on his shoulder, “You mean that, Reg?” 

“Of course. I’m happy for you guys. But uh...” he sticks his thumb towards the door, “Could you like skip on out of here. I did come to the bathroom for a reason.” 

“Oh, right,” 

“Your Tia’s chicken went right through me-” 

“Ok, Reggie! We’re leaving!” 

“But one more thing,” 

Luke and Julie stop in the doorway leading to the hallway. 

“If you think I’m bad,” Reggie shakes his head, “Try breaking the news to Carlos,” 

Luke pales, “Oh no,”

“’Oh no’ is right,” 

The couple spins around to find Carlos in the hallway, arms crossed, staring them down, “Care to explain why you two were in the bathroom?”

“Well, uh, um, we were-” Luke turns to Julie, but the girl is nowhere to be found, having already yeeted to her room to escape an overprotective Carlos. 

Luke throws a pleading look at Reggie, “A little help here, buddy?”  

Meanwhile, Carlos is unamused, carrying so much tension in his small body that it has Luke gulping nervously. 

“Nope you’re on your own,” he winks, “Make sure to tell him about the ‘rash’ while you’re at it.”

And with a laugh, the bathroom door closes. 

“I can explain...” 

[stratossphere]

bodyguard | a. hotchner

summary: reader needs someone to spend the night with them while an escaped convict is stalking them, and they choose aaron hotchner, thinking he won’t even come.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (m. recieving), fem! reader, dirty talk, language

a/n: this is my first fic so go easy on me lol

——

"Okay. This is ridiculous." You scoffed, staring at Morgan. You did not need a bodyguard. You were 25!

"Ridiculous or cautious?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You silently wondered if he got them plucked and waxed to make them look that good. At your annoyed look, he sighed. "Well, how about this? I'll let you pick who guards you."

"That's stupid." You paused for a moment, mulling it over. "Okay, let me think about it." You sighed. You were on the brink of coming up with a plan, but you needed time to think. The man you had arrested had been released, and had promised in a letter to kidnap and torture you to his best ability. Comforting.

You sat at your desk for a while, mindlessly sorting through case files JJ had dropped on your desk, trying to think of some way to get out of being babysat by someone on the team. At first you were going to pick Derek because you liked his sense of humor, but then rationalized that he would probably make you sit in a corner.

Then you thought Reid, by Morgan would probably also say no. Reid was dealing with issues of his own, and the last time he had been a bodyguard for someone, they had ended up making out in a pool. And that was not happening.

Prentiss was unavailable because of a case in another state she was working with Rossi, and you knew JJ had Henry. Suddenly, it dawned on you. Ask for Hotch, and he would 100% say no. That left Garcia, and Morgan would most likely say no to that because she was unarmed. So you made your decision.

"Morgan!" You walked back up to his desk, a proud look on your face. You may not have been the smartest profiler, but you were definitely the best at getting your way.

"What's up, sweetheart?" He asked, turning in his chair and grinning at you. "You picked me, right?" Ooh, so confident. You shook your head.

"Hotch."

"Ooh, nicely played. No way he's going to say yes." He chuckled. "Go up and tell him."

"What? I have to tell him?" You complained, pouting. You didn't want to have to deal with his seemingly never ending temper. But alas, you marched your happy ass up to his office, and knocked on his door. He was on the phone but he motioned you in, telling whoever was on the phone he would need to call them back. He set down his phone, turning his attention to you. He looked exhausted, and if you weren't afraid of him, you would've told him he needed to go home.

"What?" He snapped impatiently, making you want to back out of that office as fast as you could. Hotch in a bad mood wasn’t exactly your favorite thing. You scoffed. Attitude much?

"Well, good evening to you, too."

"What can I do for you? I was kind of busy." He said a little softer, huffing and reaching again for his phone. You chewed on your lip. You hated asking people things. Even more so when they were apparently in a pissy mood.

"Morgan needs you to be my bodyguard for the night." You blurted, staring at your feet and then back up at him. He sighed deeply, staring at you for a second. Heck yeah, he's going to say no. You knew that look, seeing as he literally said no to you at least 5 times a day.

"Uh, okay. I'll get my stuff and take you home." He said, standing up. Your jaw dropped. No fucking way. He raised an eyebrow at your reaction to his words. Shit. Now you had to back your way out.

"What? No! You were supposed to say no!" You whined, throwing your hands in the air. Essentially throwing a fit in his office. In front of your boss. "You're obviously busy. See you later."

"I didn't ask what you wanted me to do, Agent. Get your stuff and we'll head to my car." He reprimanded, heading towards the door. "Let's go. And I don't want to hear any complaining." Well that was unexpected. You understood that he was overworked, but did he really need to yell at you?

"You're already acting like my drill sergeant and we aren't even home yet. Are you going to be this way the whole time?" You ignored his request, moping as you followed him. Morgan gave you a surprised/empathetic look as you passed by, and you pretended to throw up. He turned to look at you, clenching his jaw. You stopped as soon as his eyes met yours, straightening your posture. Force of habit, being around your straight-laced boss all the time.

"I can see you. You're right next to me." He muttered, giving you an annoyed look. You stifled a groan at his stone stature. This was going to be a long ride.

The drive home was silent, the only words spoken were "don't touch that" when you turned on the radio. He let The Beatles play, though, which you found interesting seeing as it was playing off the CD in his car already. Hotch likes Lennon. When you got home, you led him into your apartment, only after he'd cleared it for you. This was all so stupid.

"You should just go home. It's not like I'm going to die." You said as you watched him walk through the house with his shoes on. Who knew what kind of shit he had walked through in his work shoes?! Part of you was too afraid to see what his socks looked like anyways, so you let it go. You collapsed on the couch as you watched him look through stuff, that serious 'boss face' set even deeper than usual. It was exhausting, watching him frown so much. You always tried to make him laugh or smile, but to no avail. He was a stone cold bitch.

"No. You can't just be here by yourself." He said, stopping his pacing in front of you. His frown deepened (if that was even possible) at the amused look on your face, and he crossed his arms, pausing where he was standing in the kitchen. "What?"

"How do you just frown? All day? Like, I don't think I've ever seen you smile. Ever." You asked, giving him a curious look. He chuckled, shaking his head. But he didn't smile. How do you manage to laugh without smiling? Maybe he was soulless. That would make a lot of sense, honestly.

"You should go to bed."

"I'm not tired. You just want to get rid of me." You scoffed, shaking your head. He pinched his nose, sighing heavily. You were starting to seriously annoy him. Personally, you thought it was very funny.

"If I say yes, will you shut up and go to bed?" He asked dryly. You put up your hands in defense, getting up and rolling your eyes. You didn't need that kind of disrespect in your own home.

"You can't be my boss when we're in my house." You pointed out, turning on the living room light. "Hotch. Take off your shoes. Stay a while. Jesus Christ." Him pacing like that was starting to seriously stress you out.

"My job isn't to 'stay awhile.' I'm watching you, not hanging out with you." But he did kick of his shoes, and low and behold, he was wearing plain black. Boring. He could've at least done some colored diamonds. "Why are you staring at my feet."

His voice startled you, and you glanced back up at his face. He had a questioning look on his face, and he looked annoyed. But then again, he always looked annoyed.

"Sorry. I was just noticing how boring your socks are." You mumbled. He really needed to get some fashion tips from Reid and Penelope when it came to socks. He would've yelled at you if you were back at the BAU, but all he did this time was laugh.

There! A smile. A small one, but still a smile.

"Stop profiling me. All my socks are the same." He said curtly, crossing his arms. You faked a disappointed sigh, shaking your head.

"You shouldn't have said that if you didn't want me to profile. You like order." You offered, sitting back down. He looked unfazed by this, and shrugged. Just slightly.

"You already knew that, though. You've spent a lot of time in my office." He pointed out. He took off his jacket, hanging it on your barstool. Okay. Making progress. You nodded, giving him a grim look. Well, he wasn't wrong. That man spent more time reprimanding you than he did actually talking to you.

"You also like yelling." You grumbled, grinding your teeth momentarily to show that it pissed you off.

"And apparently, you like being yelled at." He said with raised eyebrows. You watched him, hiding the small smile on your face behind your palm. He wasn't so scary when he looked like that. Face relaxed.

"You don't want to be here." It was very obvious. He wouldn't sit down, and he was seconds away from starting to pace again. Plus, he kept looking through the open window. He was watching. Waiting. It was making you just as restless as him. Who knew SSA Hotchner was so squirrelly?

"I could be home with my son right now." He admitted, raising an eyebrow at you as if to say and? so what? you chose to come here in the first place.

"Then go home." You stated simply.

"No." Ugh. So stubborn. You decided to make light of his attitude.

"Well, at least I know someone enjoys my company." You joked, patting the space next to you on the couch. "You should really sit down. You can't just stand there all night." You'd think after so much walking and standing at work, he'd want to sit down and relax.

To your surprise, he did sit down, crossing his arms. This was the most calmly dressed you had ever seen him, and yet he was dressed more formal than anyone who had ever taken you on a date. Your eyes lingered on the top button of his shirt. He had unbuttoned it at some point. The way his shirt fit snugly on his arms, his hands...

"Do you know anyone who seems to linger around your apartment too long? Seems to always be there when you leave?" He was trying to divert your attention back to the case, but you didn't feel like talking about it. At least he had stopped your staring. You hoped he hadn't seen it.

"You know, the good thing about this is that you left at a normal time today." You pointed out. When he could get away with it, you weren't sure he even left his office overnight. He was there later than you and always there earlier the next morning, so you couldn't be sure. If he didn't annoy you so much, you'd worry about his wellbeing.

"I don't appreciate you judging my work schedule. What I do after you leave is not under your jurisdiction." He stated tensely, clenching his jaw. You groaned, leaning your head back dramatically. He was starting to give you a headache.

"Hotch. Loosen up. Seriously. You could eat something, watch something on TV, go to bed, get a drink, talk to me without that glare on your face-" you tsked, "-I could go on forever."

"How about you go to bed and I'll watch something? You still have work tomorrow." He said, reaching for the remote. You sighed, getting up and giving up at the same time. He also had to work tomorrow but WHATEVER.

"Fine. But if you're going to watch The Bachelor, don't tell me what happens. I'm recording it." You warned, pointing at him aggressively. He shook his head disapprovingly as you walked away and into your room. It was weird, knowing Aaron Hotchner was sitting in your living room, and you were going to bed. Very weird. But you couldn't erase the stupid smile he had caused from your face.

All jokes aside, once you were in your room (and you could hear the news in the living room, you should've guessed), the reality of the situation was starting to set in. Someone was watching you. Waiting to murder you in any way they could. Most likely torture and mutilation as he had his original victims. And yet, they hadn't had enough evidence to prosecute. You were alone now, and there was no one to distract your stalker.

You checked out the windows a couple of times, hiding behind the curtain. You couldn't tell if it was the dark or your imagination, but you saw people everywhere. Shadows in the alley outside your window, someone standing across the street, you began to feel increasingly jittery. Okay. You gave up. You were not about to be murdered in your sleep when you had your made-of-steel boss basically waiting for your call. You weren't just going to waste your resources.

"Hotch?" You called, unable to hide the quiver in your voice. You heard footsteps, and a second later he was in your doorway, looking panicked. You were already starting to regret your decision. You didn't need him in here. You didn't. You didn't.

"What? What's going on?" He asked, halting to a stop and looking around frantically. You grimaced, shaking your head.  You needed him in here.

"Nothing. Sorry. I was just going to ask you if you could look around one more time. Just to make sure." You said sheepishly, looking at him hopefully. He sighed in relief, relaxing. You had obviously worried him.

"Of course. Stay with me, just in case." He waited for you to follow him before walking out of the room. His demeanor was relaxed, and you could tell he was sure there was nothing to worry about, but he was looking anyway, which was nice. You did a full sweep of the apartment and obviously came up with nothing. You couldn't ignore the fact that you had immediately felt at ease when you had seen his face.

"Clear." He said as he closed your closet door. Part of you wanted to laugh at the obscurity of the situation you had just witnessed. Your boss checking your closet for monsters. Ridiculous. But the other part was focused out the window. Maybe you weren't hallucinating.

"Hotch." You whispered, moving to the side so you weren't in full view. When he looked your way you pointed out the window to the person who actually was standing across the street. So you weren't crazy. Hotch looked out the window from where he was standing and immediately reached for his gun, not taking it out but not taking his hand off of it. He watched for a while, then removed his hand.

"He's walking a dog." He realized, slowly closing the curtain. You sat down on the bed, pulling your knees to your chest. You sighed in relief. You were being so stupid.

"Okay. This is a lot." You mumbled, watching him glance out the window one more time. He turned back to you, a concerned (or something like that) look on his face.

"I can sit in here until you fall asleep." He said quietly, nodding to the chair next to your bed. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, the offer not one you would expect from your boss.

"Uh, yeah. That would be great, actually." You climbed under your covers as you watched him sit down and dial a number. You didn't know how you were supposed to sleep with him talking on the phone, but you went along with it and laid down.

"Hey, Garcia. I know it's late. I need you to arrange tighter security around y/n's apartment. There's only so much I can do from here." He paused for a second, listening to whatever Penelope was saying on the other end. "Thank you. And please, stop calling me that." He hung up, and then dialed another number. You stared at the ceiling as you listened to him talk endlessly with like 6 different people about six different things, and thought: who knew hotch was such a loudmouth?

"What are you, a teenage girl?" You groaned, sitting up. He looked startled, but he stopped dialing.

"Excuse me?" He must've thought you were sleeping.

"I have never met someone who spends so much time on the phone. Do you ever sleep?" You complained, turning your head to look at him. He turned off his phone and set it in his lap, giving you an annoyed look.

"I thought you were sleeping."

"It's impossible to sleep when you're talking." You weren't about to tell him that his voice was comforting. More when he wasn't using his Unit Chief voice. But you had yet to hear much of that.

"Not true. Jack falls asleep every night to Harry Potter." He objected. You rolled your eyes, pulling the covers further up towards your chin.

"I'd rather you read then talk about case files." You muttered.

"I don't have a book." He argued. You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, so you opened your nightstand drawer and pulled out some stupid mystery book you had never read. You didn't really have a lot of time for reading with your job.

"Profile and solve before the book ends." You suggested. "I'm sure you'll figure it out by the 3rd chapter or so. Probably the butler." For some reason, you were feeling pretty drowsy as soon as he had stopped talking, and it was getting hard to keep your eyes open. He gave you a gentle smile, opening the book and looking it over.

"Butler? It's usually the ex-boyfriend." He countered. You laughed weakly, closing your eyes and humming a small agreement.

"You can read it out loud, if you want." You mumbled. He paused for a second, and then he started reading. The book was about a dead son, and all the family were suspects. His voice has quieted down considerably, and as he turned the pages, his tone was barely audible. You fell asleep before he could get any farther than that.

——

You jolted out of a bad dream of someone breaking in when you opened your eyes. You were leaning on your arm, but your arm wasn't on your mattress. It was in Hotch's lap. You looked up to see that he was asleep, head leaning back with his mouth slightly open. You got up, stretching your arm seeing as it was asleep. This woke him, and he jolted into awareness. You rubbed your eyes, trying to bring the room into focus.

"Calm down." You mumbled, falling back against your pillows. You tried to calm your heartbeat, but for some reason panic had set in and wouldn't leave.

"You were thrashing in your sleep. I couldn't get you to sit still unless I held you down like that." He said, explaining the way you had woken up. You closed your eyes again, taking deep breaths. "Are you okay?"

"Not at the moment, no." You huffed. You reached out your hand, finding his and squeezing it tightly. "This is kind of scary. What does it tell you about me that I'm an FBI agent scared of an invisible man?"

"Tells me that you're sane. I would be worried if you weren't scared." He held my hand in both of his, giving me a sympathetic look. "You're not even fully awake." His skin on your skin was making you feel a certain way, even if it was just his hands.

"Can you sit with me?" You mumbled, squeezing his hand tighter. His hands on yours were calming the panic a little bit, but not enough. He chuckled.

"I'm already sitting with you. You probably won't even remember this conversation in the morning."

"No, like, in bed with me. Just sit with me. Please?" You begged. You knew he was going to say no, but it never hurt to ask. He sighed.

"Fine. But just this once." He got up and walked over to the other side of your bed, crawling in slowly. You leaned up against his side and wrapped your arms around him, his arm coming to rest on your shoulders. His cologne smelled expensive, and it was comforting. He had taken off his button up shirt at some point, and all he was wearing was the white t-shirt he had been wearing underneath it. It was soft against your fingers, and it smelled of laundry detergent. You could feel his heartbeat with your head on his chest like that.

You fell asleep like that, and part of you wondered if maybe, just maybe, you had a soft spot for Aaron Hotchner. Not long after that, you regretted the thought as he woke you for the millionth time. The man wouldn't sit still. He kept shifting around, shoulder hitting your side or a kick to the leg. Only once did he mutter a gravelly sorry and still for about ten seconds. Finally, you had had enough, and you jolted into sitting position, looking at your alarm clock. 3:28.

"What is wrong with you?" You groaned, turning to look at him, a desperate look on your face. You couldn't sleep if he was going to keep doing that, and you had had enough. You startled him considerably, and his head whipped around to look over at you. He had resorted to a lying down position, his pillow shoved under his arm and his hair tousled. He looked pretty good like that.

"I didn't know you were awake." He muttered, resting his head on his hand. You mimicked his position, quirking an eyebrow at him. You had no idea if he could even see it in the dark. He sighed uncomfortably. "Nothing is wrong with me."

"You sure? Because you've shifted in your sleep more times tonight than I think I have in my entire life." You pointed out, lying back down on your side and keeping your eyes on him. "What's bothering you?"

"Well, it's just..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words. "I'm in a bed with my coworker, and then I had a nightmare-" Aw, poor baby. Wait what? Split second decisions were made.

"Come here." You said gently, opening your arms to him. He hesitated for a second before letting his head fall to your chest, sighing softly as your fingers found his hair. Yeah, you definitely had a soft spot for your boss. You did that for a while, just running your fingers through the dark strands and making it stick up all over the place. "You want me to help you relax a little bit?" It was a stretch, and there was a chance that he was going to shut down and go sit in the living room, but the haze of waking up in the middle of the night had brought you some welcomed confidence.

"You already did it! What's the harm in continuing to do it?" You pressed another kiss to his lips, inhaling the scent of his cologne. "Plus, I don't kiss and tell." His hands slipped under your shirt, his fingers coming in contact with the warm skin of your back. A low chuckle against your lips and he seemed to be okay with it.

"Oh you don't?" He complied as you started to unbutton his shirt, gasping for breath as he sucked harsh marks on your neck, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. Any bit of hesitation he had been displaying previously was gone, and now all you could see was animalistic hunger in his eyes. His skin against yours was intoxicating, and even though it wasn't physically possible, you wanted to press yourself closer to him. Your fingers found his belt buckle, blindly fumbling with the silver piece.

"You want to know a secret?" He breathed as he broke the kiss, helping you get his belt undone and sliding out of his work pants. You couldn't help but laugh, his words completely unexpected. "What's so funny?"

"A secret? My big bad boss wants to tell me a secret?" You rested your elbows on his shoulders, waiting for his answer. You were secretly curious to know what this secret of his was. He pressed another kiss to your lips before motioning to the black socks he was still wearing.

"These socks are reversible." He whispered. A small smile spread onto your face, your hand reaching down to his feet and peeling back his sock to see if he was bullshitting you. He wasn't. The socks may have been plain, boring black on the side he had chosen to wear outside, but on the inside, they had little Santas all over them. You started giggling again, pulling him back into a kiss.

"I love them, but I wanna see you naked." You sang, your hand slowly trailing its way down his stomach. He sucked in a harsh breath, quickly stopping your hand.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, tipping your chin so that your eyes looked into his. There was worry in his eyes, but at the same time, there was undeniable lust. You nodded eagerly, lips parting slightly in a way you hoped would get him all hot and bothered. He shook his head, sighing.

"I need to hear you say it."

"I want you. I need you, Hotch." You whined, opening your mouth again as his thumb dragged across your lips. He pressed his thumb into your mouth, watching you with hungry eyes.

"You can call me Aaron." He chewed on his lip as he watched you suck on his thumb, looking up at him with faux innocent eyes. Your fingers found the waistband of his boxers again, starting to pull them down slowly. This time he didn't stop you, groaning slightly as your fingers brushed his hard on and pushed his boxers off as he accommodated the movement. He had pulled his socks off after showing you, so now he was completely bare in front of you.

God, you wanted this man to rail you.

You released his finger, instead attatching your lips to his neck and kissing your way down his chest. He was heaving for breath, and you felt a small pang of pride at how worked up you had him without even touching him where you knew he wanted you to. His fingers made their way into your hair, pulling slightly. You wasted no time, and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. He gasped audibly, pulling a little harder and bucking his lips toward your mouth. You swiped your tongue over the slit, earning a filthy moan from his lips. He pressed deeper into your mouth, and he started to thrust heavily, fucking your face. You hollowed out your cheeks, the moans coming from his lips going straight to your cunt.

"Oh, fuck. J-just like that." He groaned, his nails digging into your scalp. Who knew Aaron Hotchner was so vocal?

You bobbed your head feverishly in turn of his thrusts, groaning as he pulled at your hair. Suddenly, he pulled you off, wiping your lips with his thumb before pulling you back to his lips for a brushing kiss. He started to aggressively pull of the remainder of your clothes, throwing them haphazardly across the room. He pushed you back on the bed, slotting a knee between your legs.

"You know, there's something that I like to think about a lot." He mumbled, his hand drifting down your stomach. The way your body reacted to his touch, back arching and breath quickening, was making him so hard his cock was aching for you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against him.

"Yeah? What's that?" You asked, gasping as he started running slow, lazy circles over your clit. "God, I need you inside me, Aaron."

"I think about fucking you until you scream. Watching you come on my cock while I pound into you. Feeling your skin against mine. Wondering how you would taste." He whispered into your ear, chuckling as you reached between you to line him up with your entrance.

"You and me both, sweetheart." You bit his lip, trying to push forward to get him inside you. He put a hand on your stomach, keeping you still and at the same time stopping his movements on your clit. He raked his hands through your hair as he slowly pushed into you, pausing to let you get adjusted to his size.

"Don't call me sweetheart." He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours as you jerked your hips up towards his. His cologne had filled your senses and clouded your brain, and you knew that in the future every time you smelled it, you were going to associate it with the feeling of being stuffed with your boss's cock.

"More. Please." You whined, gripping his shoulders and grinding your hips in hope of getting some friction to soothe the unbearable arousal that was begging to be quenched. You needed him. You couldn't handle any more. He chuckled, starting to slowly move his hips, starting a teasing pace that he knew wasn't even close to being enough. You let out a sound that was a mix of a moan and a whine, loving the feeling of him buried to the hilt inside of you.

"So needy, aren't you?" He lifted one of your legs so that it was up against his chest, effectively thrusting into a different position. You cried out as he hit your g-spot, putting your hand over his where it was gripping your breast.

"Fuck! Fuck yeah, right there!" You cried, feeling your orgasm starting to build in your lower stomach. He let out a groan as his thrusts became sloppier, signaling that his climax was close behind. Your moans became more sporadic and his name fell from your lips over and over again as your high approached. "Oh god, m'gonna cum." You were breathless, and barely able to get the words out.

"Don't." He leaned onto you, pulling you so that your chests were pressed together, you in his lap and his hands on your hips pulling you down onto him. You shook your head, gripping his hair and pulling. You couldn't hold it. Every part of your body was on fire, and your walls fluttered around him as you held on with everything you had. Finally, he moaned into your neck, and you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

"Cum. Cum all over my cock." He groaned, kissing you with teeth and tongue as you both came together, the feeling of his cum inside you causing you to moan on top of the euphoria from your orgasm. You both rode out your highs before holding that position, both trying to catch your breath. He then slowly pulled out of you, eliciting a whimper from you as he brushed your sensitive clit. You laid back on your bed, so blissed out you barely felt him lie down next to you.

He pulled you against his chest, his chin resting on your head and his arm wrapped loosely around your waist. After a while, you felt his cum start to leave you, so you got up to go to the bathroom, cleaning yourself up and peeing before going back into the bedroom, admiring the sight in front of you. Aaron, spread out on the bed, sweaty and disheveled. He looked gorgeous. You just stood there for a second, locking the sight into your memory. You had no idea if you would be able to do this again. The thought hadn't even crossed your mind that he might not want to see you again after tonight. He was, in fact, just supposed to be babysitting you. Not fucking you. Maybe he was sitting there thinking about how much he regretted having sex with you.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" His voice interrupted your intrusive thoughts, bringing you back to earth. You sent him a small smile, padding back to the bed and getting in next to him, sliding back under his arm.

"You're just so handsome. I can't believe Aaron Hotchner is naked in my bed." You mused, running your forefinger over the grooves and lines on the palm of his hand. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his free hand drawing lazy circles on your lower back. The thought of someone stalking you outside your window had definitely escaped your mind, and the anxiety that had plagued you earlier about your situation was no longer a thought as you laid in Aaron's arms.

"Get used to it, sweetheart. I can't imagine being anywhere else." He purred, giving you a chaste kiss. He smelled so good. Everything about him was just so amazing. You wanted him to hold you forever. You haphazardly ran your fingers through his soft dark locks, relishing the reaction you received from him when you did so. Eventually, the both of you drifted off, holding each other like that. That was certainly not how you thought the night was going to end.

——

Your alarm for work the next morning woke you, and for a second you freaked out. Shit! Someone was in your bed! Then you remembered, and sighed in relief as you sat up. He opened his eyes slowly, groaning and trying to keep you from getting up.

"We have to leave in 30 minutes." You mumbled, getting up and stretching your arms over your head. You knew he was a very routine-oriented person, so you thought it would be fair to at least warn him that you woke up and hour and a half after he did. It was common knowledge that he woke up way before he needed to be at work. Everyone at work poked fun at him for it. He shot up like a bullet, his eyes wide.

"30 minutes? Are you kidding me?" He rushed out of bed, frantically fixing his sex hair in the mirror. You laughed, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso.

"Calm down, Agent Hotchner. I'll make sure you get to work on time. You might have to skip the shower though." In all honesty, you had set your alarm for 30 minutes later than usual after last night's endeavors so that you could enjoy him in your bed for a little while longer. He turned around and kissed you, his hands roaming over your still naked body. "Easy, lover. Keep doing that and we will definitely be late for work." You warned. He had put on his boxers at some point, and after he broke the kiss, he was digging around for his clothes. You watched him work, pulling on clothes frantically and at the same time checking texts/emails on his phone. You leisurely got dressed, barely giving the time a thought. You couldn't get yelled at by your boss for being late if your boss was late with you.

"You're something else, you know that?" He huffed, adjusting his watch on his wrist as you sat in his lap while putting on mascara. You ignored him, concentrating on not poking yourself in the eye. Since he had to get ready at your house (which included him using your toothbrush and letting you brush out his hair) he didn't have his hair gel, so his hair fell on his forehead softly, which made him look so cute. You vocalized this thought to him as you got up and led him into the kitchen to grab your shoes.

"I'm not cute." He muttered, grumbling to himself as he tied the laces on his dress shoes. You brushed your thumb over his cheek, grinning.

"Uh huh. Whatever you say." You left after that, and guess what? You weren't even late. As you rode to Quantico, you silently wondered what he did in the two hours before he had to leave for work. Crosswords? The news? Working out? Changing outfits? Well, that last one seemed improbable seeing as he wore the same thing every day, but you never know. You honestly had no idea. When you walked into the bullpen and separated from Hotch, Morgan was immediately in your face, bombarding you with questions.

"So? How was it?"

"Did he sleep there?"

"Does he snore?"

"Did anything interesting happen?"

"Did he say anything about your apartment?"

"Slow down, Morgan. Jesus. It was...interesting." You sighed, sitting down on his desk so that he would sit down in his chair and calm down a little bit. He raised a perfect eyebrow, evidently wanting more.

"Did he sleep there?"

"Well duh, Derek. Unsubs don't just decide they can't stalk at night because it's dark outside and the monsters are going to get them. He had to stay there, according to him." You explained. You were stepping on thin ice, and you were hoping he wouldn't assume what had actually happened.

"Where did he sleep?" He pried, wiggling his eyebrows and giving you a suggestive look. You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance with is antics.

"In a chair." You lied. Well, technically you weren't lying, he had fell asleep in the chair next to your bed for a couple of hours. But that wasn't the full truth. And as a knowing look crossed his face, you realized with fear that he seemed to know the same thing.

"You seem to be looking everywhere but me, mama. Come on, tell me the dirty details." He dragged the word way too long, a wide smirk on his face. I glanced up at Aaron's office, only to see him leaning against the railing out of Derek's eyesight, his look mirroring Derek's. You sighed, leaning in closer and sending Aaron an annoyed look.

"This stays between us, understand?" You asked, giving him a serious look. You didn't need him gossiping about your sex life with Garcia. Of course you were going right over to her room after this, but you wanted her to hear the real story, not Derek's no doubt over-dramatized version. He nodded eagerly, leaning in with you. You explained how last night went, and as soon as you got to the part about how you had sex, he couldn't contain himself.

"Oh my god. You did what?"

[eldritchqueerture]

Chapter 7: Threads

Hello! Long time no see! The delay was unplanned and I'm sorry about that. I had an idea in the meantime to add more fluff chapters before shit starts to go down but then I couldn't get to writing them while telling myself that I will write them eventually, and then I had other ideas, and I was writing for Summer in the Archives, and so we are where we are. I decided to just keep posting what I have and if I do feel like adding fluff that would be happening in the meantime then I will just make a separate work in the series. I'm aiming to go back to my weekly schedule (haha), so I hope I can get the next chapter out next Friday. As always, please leave me a comment or come yell at me here on tumblr, it always brightens my day and keeps my motivation up! Enjoy <3

Martin looks at Jon’s sleeping face and thoughts swirl inside his head like tendrils of the mist that has been following him, tendrils that meet in one specific place – his feelings for him. He’s not proud of the fact that this is where his thoughts end up turning every time he thinks about Jon, considering the severity of the situation Sasha explained to him, but he cannot help wondering – despite his better judgement – if Jon doesn’t share them. He replays the worry in his brown eyes, the tight hugs, always ensuring he’s there, safe, and whole… He might be adding meaning to otherwise ordinary actions, of course, but he can allow himself to hope, for when that hope sparks inside him, the fog withdraws.

Jon is wrapped in a blanket on the cot in the storage room, where Martin has laid him. They found him sleeping on the desk in his office, his eyes all red-rimmed and puffed up; they didn’t comment on it. Martin carried him to the storage room and placed his glasses nearby. Tim went to take Sasha home, so she can get some rest, too, and was supposed to come back with lunch; the events of the morning are laying heavy on all of them and have left them quite hungry.

Martin closes the door to the storage room and comes back to his desk. Working seems a bit pointless when you know that your boss is scheming an apocalypse somewhere behind your back and you can’t quit the job, but he finds himself needing a distraction, so he opens up his computer to do some follow up research on Jason North and the alleged ritual site he found in the middle of a Scottish forest. Martin’s never been good with research, not like Sasha, so he soon stumbles upon a dead end. He ends up researching pictures for Scottish forests and cottages, and he daydreams, with his poem notebook by his side. How nice would it be to just move to Scotland, to a cottage like that and forget everything. Grow your own vegetables and herbs, welcome the sun every morning with a cup of tea; go down to the town for some groceries, meet some good cows; and maybe Jon is there with him, and he finally gets through to his head that he shouldn’t make tea in the microwave, and they cuddle on the couch while reading—

“’scuse us,” comes a deep voice and Martin looks up, startled, to find two delivery men standing there, in the Archives, with a big package next to them.

“Looking for the Archivist,” the other man says, but Martin figures that just because the voice is coming from a slightly different direction. They sound exactly the same; he finds they look similar, too. Their clothes are identical; they’re different makes and all but somehow, he can’t tell these two men apart. There’s… something off to them.

“Sorry, are you two meant—” Martin blinks, but one of them interrupts him.

“Won’t take up your time.”

“Just got a delivery.”

Martin opens his mouth, trying to process the fact that they seem to be two parts of the same whole. He wouldn’t be able to explain this thought if asked, but this is what runs through his head.

“Look, you really can’t actually—”

“Package for Jonathan Sims.”

“Says right here.”

He looks and yes, there, on the package, says ‘Jonathan Sims’ in a very ordinary, unassuming writing. He glances over at the door to the storage room and back at the two men.

“Well, he’s not—”

“We’ll just leave it with you.”

“Be sure he gets it.”

Martin struggles for words.

“Okay, I will, but you really have to actually—”

“’course. Much obliged.”

“Stay safe.”

“I’ll… try?” He responds with the first thing that goes into his head.

“Your recorder’s on, by the way.”

“Might wanna change that.”

Martin looks at his desk and he notices a tape whirring steadily in the recorder.

“Oh… so it is. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“At all.”

They both turn as one and leave Martin, the recorder, and the package alone. He hums, looking from one to the other and back.

“Well, I know for a fact that I did not turn you on,” Martin speaks to the recorder. “Maybe Tim felt in a mood for a prank. It is April Fool’s after all,” he huffs out a laugh. “Would be his style to do something, even with… all this happening.”

He stops the recording and turns to the package; before he can do anything else, though, the recorder clicks itself back on. Martin gives it a sideways look and his heart picks up the pace. He frowns and clicks stop again. One second. Two. There; it clicks the red button on its own.

Martin stands up and takes a step back.

“What the hell,” he breathes out.

Suddenly he hears a familiar laugh from the top of the stairs and energetic steps running down. Tim emerges from the doorway and gives him a surprised look.

“You okay, Marto?” He asks and places a paper bag on his desk, then points his chin at the package. “What’s that?”

“Uh…” Martin collects himself in a second. “Two delivery men just came by. It’s for Jon, apparently.”

Tim places a second paper bag and his coffee cup on his desk and walks around the package.

“No sender. Interesting.” He strokes his chin and looks at Martin with a grin. “We should open it.”

“Tim!”

“Look, boss is asleep, the package came to the Archives and not to his house, how private can it be?” Tim throws his arms up but seems to be watching Martin’s reaction more carefully. He doesn’t look very bothered, Tim assesses; he seems to be equally interested in the contents. He sighs and tosses him a letter opener.

“Fine, but you’re taking the blame,” Martin rolls his eyes with mock exasperation, and Tim’s grin gets wider.

“That’s the spirit!” He cuts the tape at the corners and opens the packaging to reveal an old wooden table; there’s a hole in the centre, Tim reckons about six inches square, and its surface is covered in intricate patterns resembling optical illusions. He frowns at it. “Huh. A table. Why would Jon…” He trails off as his eyes follow the hypnotizing patterns. “Interesting…”

Martin watches as Tim drops the letter knife to the floor, enraptured by the table. He wants to say something, to call out his name, but the fog from the edges of his vision spills out at the sight of the table and it blocks out the world; Martin stops feeling the chair underneath him and finds himself stranded in a sea of grey, thick fog.

“Tim? Tim!” He calls out but there’s no answer. There would be no answer, ever; he’s all alone here.

—

Jon wakes up to a nagging feeling that something is wrong. He blinks, trying to get rid of the sleep weighing heavily on his eyelids and gathers his bearings. He realizes he’s on the cot in the storage room, a blanket thrown to the floor next to him. He still feels too hot, and he takes off his sweater vest. What’s this feeling, gently pricking at the back of his mind?

He gets up, wobbly as he feels, and makes his way to the door. As he opens it, a voice makes its way to his ears.

“…friend mentioned poetry?” Jon squints his eyes, as light reaches him, yet he immediately recognizes the voice.

“…Gerry?” He asks and blinks – yes, he can make out the thin and long figure dressed in black, sitting on top of Tim’s desk. Tim is there too, leaning against Martin’s desk in front of Gerry, and Martin sits in the chair, his cheeks coloured just a little with faint pink. They all turn to him with surprise when he emerges. He can feel tension in the room, and he acknowledges the presence of something that looks like a table covered with a blanket in the middle of the room; the nagging in his mind grows into anxiety. “Something happened.”

“God, Jon, did we wake you up?” Martin jumps up to him with genuine worry and Jon smiles slightly, as he shakes his head.

“No.” He blinks again, to chase away the sleep and looks at Gerry and his inscrutable expression. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching a zombie rise from the dead, apparently.” Gerry gets down from the desk and crosses his arms. “Also saving the lives of his assistants by accident. I know you said you’re a mess but good God.”

Jon frowns with worry.

“Gerry, I’m serious.”

Something in Gerry’s demeanour changes as he sighs, and his expression clears.

“Well, I wanted to tell you that I’m in,” he says. “Whatever your crazy plan is, if you even have one, I want to hear it or help you make it; you weren’t picking up your phone, so I decided to come, pay you a visit.” He glances towards the table and his eyes cloud with a shadow. “And it turns out it’s good that I did.”

“What is this?” Jon walks over to the table and three pairs of hands shoot out to stop him. Gerry’s touch lingers comfortably, because apparently that’s what he does, and Jon isn’t so sure he minds it.

“An old table, with weird, hypnotizing patterns,” Tim says, and Jon detects a tinge of guilt in his voice.

“Did it have a hole in the middle?” He asks urgently and Tim nods.

“We need to get rid of it,” Jon looks in the direction of the stairs. “Put it in the Artifact Storage and make sure it’s covered.”

“Are you familiar with it?” Martin asks and Jon nods.

“Amy Patel case; the one where a person got replaced. Why would they—” Jon’s face falls and he turns to Martin and Tim. “Who delivered it?”

“It was two delivery men, really big, quite intimidating, but—uh, now that I think about it I can’t remember what they looked like…”

“Shit,” Jon sighs and rubs his face. “Okay, we really do need a plan.” He looks over their faces and his eyes stop at Martin’s disgruntled expression. “What is it?”

“What you need is rest,” he crosses his arms. “You pulled an all-nighter with Sasha, and you haven’t even slept for two hours now.”

“You do look like shit,” Gerry offers his insight and Jon fixes him with a glare.

“I can’t protect you when I’m asleep,” he says and looks pointedly at the table. “Clearly. Tell me wha—” He stops when Gerry squeezes his arm sharply. He takes note of the static in the air and clears his throat. “I want to know what happened.”

Tim sighs.

“Alright, it is kinda my fault,” he admits looking away. “I insisted on opening your package to see what’s inside. But in my defence, I thought it would be something funny; at least a bit humiliating for you, and we could laugh it off. The mood’s been horrible lately,” he grimaces. “The lines kind of… hypnotized me. I couldn’t look away and I started getting lost in them. It… It felt like being trapped in a web; the more I struggled to look away, the harder it was. I don’t know how much time had passed before your resident goth intervened. Then I came back to myself and Martin… he was grey again.”

Jon glances worriedly at Martin, who starts fidgeting with his fingers.

“I didn’t think you guys could see that,” he confesses. “It’s… it’s that fog you mentioned,” he says to Jon who nods, his lips pressed together. “It was… stronger this time.”

“He was a step from disappearing,” Gerry says, looking at Jon curiously. “I thought you guys were new here.”

“We are,” Tim says, looking at Jon pointedly. “You said you know why that happens.”

“I did,” Jon sighs and leans against the desk, next to Gerry. “I’m—Martin, I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

Martin looks away and he mutters something along the lines of “don’t worry about it”.

“The fog is… another one of the fears; called The Lonely or The Forsaken,” Jon says, looking somewhere into space. “It’s the fear that you’re all alone, that you can’t connect with anyone. Martin…” He exhales. “I have reasons to believe that your connection to the Lonely might have appeared in this… reality, along with my memories.” He finally looks up at Martin; there are no emotions on his face. “When did the fog first appear?”

“S-Sometime when I got transferred into the Archives,” he nods. “I thought it was just anxiety, but… y-yeah, it makes sense, I suppose.”

“You still don’t remember what you did to end up here?” Gerry asks and Jon shakes his head; Gerry clicks his tongue.

“So, what do we do now?” Tim looks at Jon. “What is Elias’ plan?”

“I…” He rubs his forehead. “I don’t remember exactly. I…” He trails off looking at them. They are waiting for him to tell them what to do. Martin, with colour in his eyes and something else there, something Jon doesn’t let himself think about; Tim, whom he hasn’t hurt yet, who still has hope and who isn’t filled with bitter anger and sorrow; and Gerry who’s alive, here with him, offering his help. Jon thinks about Sasha, the real Sasha who’s still there. He can’t protect them all from other Entities and Elias. Even with all of his knowledge, Elias still has more power here than him, and Jon sees that his threats weren’t a bluff. Jon deflates with a sigh. “We need to know if there’s a way to fill the tunnels with CO2 before the Hive attacks; and I need the table sealed shut - it’s not getting anyone this time. Other than that, I think we need to work the statements, like before.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim raises his eyebrows. “Elias is serving an Eye power and not letting us leave, and I’m supposed to still work for him?”

Jon swallows.

“Elias… He’s dangerous. Even with everything I know, he can still hurt us. I’m not risking an open war with him.”

“What is he gonna do, kill us?” Tim scoffs but he goes quiet when Jon gives him a hard stare. “Fuck off.”

“Murder isn’t usually his style of dealing with things, he generally prefers threats and blackmail, but he can definitely do that, too,” Jon says. “Let’s just say we don’t want to piss him off more than is necessary.”

“You literally punched him in the face today.”

“Yes, I know.” Jon grits his teeth and looks away. Tim narrows his eyes.

“He threatened you, didn’t he?” He asks and takes a step towards Jon. “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jon says coldly. “We need to get back to work.”

“Oh, no, you’re going back home and getting some sleep,” Martin shakes his head. “Or we refuse to work.”

Jon groans but Gerry places a hand on his shoulder.

“Go, Jon, I’ll keep an eye on them,” he promises and after a second of searching his face, Jon gives in.

“Fine. Be careful.”

“You, too,” Martin says and hands him the paper bag from his desk. “Eat this.”

Jon gives him a grateful smile and, with a last look at them, walks to the stairs and climbs up.

—

Gerry Delano sits comfortably on a park bench with a cup of coffee in his hand and sips on it slowly; he thinks about the things the new Archivist – Jon – said to him this morning. He looked tired; the bags under his eyes, the messy hair, the absolutely horrendous smoking habit (at that Gerry just chuckles to himself) and the clean but messy clothes speak for themselves, and Gerry didn’t want to say it, obviously, but it was this entire image of an absolute mess of a confused man that made him believe him. The marks are curious, yes, but Gerry has seen many things which he doesn’t understand, and he’s okay with that. No, this man is clearly in need of support and if he’s really taken over for Gertrude (and, judging by the sheer amount of his energy just screamingBeholding, that was very probable), he is in for one hell of a ride.

If Gerry would have to describe his perfect life, with his mother and Gertrude gone, he’d probably say he wants to find a normal job and get some peace and quiet; that being said, he did try that as a teenager, running away from his mother and her life. He told himself then that he didn’t belong in the normal world and would always find his way back to his mother. He abandoned that dream for a while, until Gertrude offered to help him get rid of his mother’s ghost. He thought that maybe if he helped Gertrude for a while, burned some Leitners in the meantime, maybe he’d have enough and manage to build a life that didn’t always border on getting killed by something supernatural; and so his life went on and he never really grew to feel at home in the “normal” world. He’d about accepted the fact that he’ll probably die on the job with the old Archivist, and he wasn’t very surprised to find how quickly he accepted it. It seemed fitting; much more so than getting a job at a coffee shop or other, and just living among people who had no idea what’s really out there. Then he got shot in Pittsburgh – a Slaughter case he’d tried to prevent – and he was forced to stay behind in the hospital. In some fleeting moments of consciousness he saw Gertrude holding the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead and he prepared himself to wake up as a ghost any time; instead, he woke up to an empty hospital room and a note in her handwriting – “Build your life here. Stay safe.” He thought if this weren’t his chance to build the life he’d imagined for himself then it would never come; and he was right. He soon discovered that making friends is way too difficult when you’re able to tell which Fear Entity marked them in that supernatural encounter they’re too scared to talk about, and he returned to London, searching for Jurgen Leitner himself. He thought he found him, but he ended up beating up someone who turned out to just be some pathetic old man. And here he is, back in the world his mother dragged him into without his consent. Gerry sighs and takes another sip of his coffee. Maybe the universe simply needs a pyromaniacal, angry goth who did in fact end up in the business of helping strays.

He directs his thoughts back to Jonathan Sims and the Institute. They need to form a plan and Jon said he would fill his assistants in on at least the basics. He takes out his phone and checks the time – 1 PM. He rules that’s enough time to explain the basics of the metaphysical functioning of the Fear Powers in the world.

He finds his last messages and opens the one Jon sent at his request for contact saving purposes – “Here. – Jon Sims”. He’s a creative one, isn’t he? Gerry saves the number as Jon Archivist, then changes it to Jarchivist, and grins; then swipes to call.

No answer. He tries again and it still goes to voicemail.

Gerry shrugs and finishes his coffee. He burned his last Leitner in the alley just before he met Jon, so he doesn’t exactly have any new leads. He thinks he might as well pay the Archives a visit; it’s been a while since he was there last time, with Gertrude.

The street is quiet when he walks up to the building. The aura of Beholding is quite strong here already and he looks at the Latin words above the entrance. “I watch, I listen, I wait.” Tacky.

He comes inside and turns towards the stairs leading down. He’s not surprised when the lady at the reception calls out to him.

“I’m sorry, sir! Can I help you?”

Gerry turns to her. She’s a small Chinese woman with a bob cut and huge glasses; she smiles but Gerry can recognize a customer service smile when he sees one.

“Oh, actually, I’m a friend of Jonathan Sims, the, uh, Head Archivist. Saw him this morning, I promised I’d drop a few notes.”

“Notes?” She glances over at the papers at her desk. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Gerry Delano,” he tries to smile as she checks something.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I have you anywhere as a potential source—”

“Oh, that’s weird. I worked with the previous Head Archivist, Gertrude Robinson? Jon had a couple questions about her management style, you know how it is,” he waves his hand. “New job can be stressful.”

She looks over his clothes and tattoos with a frown for a second and then sighs.

“Alright, Jon’s office is right downstairs, through the Archives, Mr. Delano.”

“Thank you very much,” he nods his head and runs down the stairs.

Gerry doesn’t know what he expected to find down in the Archives, to be honest. Probably Jon being interrogated by his assistants, or maybe no one at all; he definitely did not expect to find one tall man staring into swirling patterns of a table that gave him very mixed signals of the Web, and another man in his desk chair, staring into space with a very unnaturally grey stare and his form dissipating into mist.

“Oh, I swear to God,” Gerry curses under his nose and looks around. “Can’t I meet people normally once in a blue moon?”

He picks up a blanket that lays stranded on the ground and covers the table. He then snaps his fingers in front of the tall man’s face and waves his hand.

“Hey, you still there?” He asks and the man draws in a breath, rapidly, and blinks, then looks around in confusion.

“Wh-Wha…” His eyes land on Gerry and he frowns. “Who are you?”

“Someone who just saved your ass from something nasty,” Gerry says, turns to the other man and touches his shoulder. Still there.

“Oh, God, his eyes are grey again.” The tall man grabs his shoulders and shakes him. “Martin? Martin!”

“How did he manage to go so deep into the Lonely with you there?” Gerry asks and moves to look inside the Head Archivist’s office. Empty.

“Into the what? Martin!” He shakes him again and Martin blinks and exhales but does not acknowledge him at all. “Do you know what’s happening to him?”

“Where’s Jon?” Gerry looks at the man sternly.

“Jo—who the hell are you?” The man exclaims. “We need to snap him out of it!”

“It’s not that easy.” Gerry rolls his eyes and looks through Martin’s desk. “What does he love?”

“What?” The man looks at him confused and Gerry stifles a groan of frustration.

“Martin. He needs an anchor, something that he loves that will bring him back here.”

The man’s eyes search the desk frantically.

“Come on!” Gerry rushes him and the man groans.

“Can he hear me?”

“Allegedly.”

“What does that mean?!” He looks at him pressingly.

“It means I don’t know!” Gerry grabs one of Martin’s hands. “He might, if he’s not too far gone.”

“Martin,” the man grabs Martin’s other hand. “Martin, think about tea. Poetry. Um, about—” He’s cut off by Gerry’s groan of frustration. “What?!”

“That won’t work,” he shakes his head. “He’s in the fogs of The Lonely; he thinks he’s alone and that it’s never gonna change; that he can’t ever make meaningful connections with other people.”

The man’s eyes move frantically as he puts something together in his brain.

“Martin,” he squeezes his hand again. “I’m here with you, you hear me? You’re not alone and Jon is here too, and Sasha will be here soon, and we will all be with you here because we are your friends, okay? We’re—” His voice catches when Martin’s grey gaze lands on his face. Gerry unknowingly nods for him to continue. “Look, I know you’re convinced that you’re no help here because of that fake resume that everyone pretends not to know about, but you’ve been such an amazing friend through these couple of months and—” he searches for words before continuing. “And I know you have feelings for Jon, and you need to think about him because if you ask me, he’s head over heels for you too, and you’re just too oblivious to realize, both of you,” he laughs and a tear streams down his face. “So you need to think about him because he needs you to be here and stay here, and we need you too, okay, Marto, we—we really do…” He inhales, as Martin squeezes his hand back and blinks. The man sighs deeply with relief and leans his forehead on their joined hands.

“Tim…?” Martin speaks up with a very gentle, detached voice and then his gaze lands on Gerry who has now let go of his hand and stands back up. “Who’s that?”

Tim looks up and wipes away another stray tear, then stands up to face him.

“Yeah,” he frowns. “That’s a good question.”

Gerry smirks and climbs up to sit at one of the desks.

“Seeing how I just might have saved your lives; I’d rather think some thanks are in order.”

“I’m not kidding, who the fuck are you?” Tim crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. Gerry notices he stares at his tattoos like he’s trying to remember something.

“Eh, fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Name’s Gerry Delano, but you may know me as Gerard Keay.”

Recognition flashes in Tim’s eyes.

“We had a statement about you!” He says and immediately frowns. “You killed a man.”

Gerry chuckles.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“What are you doing here?” Martin asks and Gerry crosses his legs.

“Waiting for Jon, actually. I thought I may find him here, but it appears I must have found his assistants, am I correct?”

“And you know Jon how?” Martin follows up; his voice gains a bit of depth to it, and he tilts his head, much more present than a second before.

“We met in an alley outside the Institute this morning,” Gerry shrugs. “Or, late night. Morning might be pushing it. He didn’t mention it?”

Tim sighs and rubs his face and Martin shakes his head.

“Eh, that’s fine. You two look like you have enough information to process for the next two months.”

“Something like that,” Tim nods and leans against Martin’s desk. “Jon’s getting some sleep and we’d rather have no one disturb him. It’s been a… hard morning.”

“He did look like he hasn’t slept in a week, I’ll give you that.” Gerry shoots a glance at Martin; his skin is regaining color, but his eyes are still unnaturally grey, and the edges of his form are blurry; the fog still lingers. “Hey, um… Martin?” He asks and Martin looks at him with surprise.

“Yeah…?”

“Just getting your names since you haven’t introduced yourselves. But that’s okay, I’m good at picking up from context.” He smiles and continues before Tim can speak. “So, Martin, what is it that you do here?”

“Uh… excuse me?” He blinks.

“I’m just interested, tell me what your usual day consists of. What do you do for fun? Your friend mentioned poetry?”

He notes the blush on Martin’s face with some satisfaction; the dark green colour returns to his eyes, though, still, his edges remain blurry. Martin can’t answer however; as he takes a breath, he’s interrupted by the door to the storage room opening.

Jon looks, frankly, even worse than he did before; in addition to everything aforementioned, his eyes are now puffed up from sleeping and he has apparently ditched his sweater vest, leaving only a creased, light blue shirt.

“…Gerry?” He frowns at him and takes in the room. “Something happened.”

“God, Jon, did we wake you up?” Martin shoots upright and the edges of his form become solid for a second. Just a second.

“No,” he shakes his head and blinks at Gerry. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching a zombie rise from the dead, apparently.” Gerry jumps down from the desk and crosses his arms. “Also saving the lives of his assistants by accident. I know you said you’re a mess but good God.”

“Gerry, I’m serious.” Jon gives him a look and Gerry sighs, but it’s a sigh of mock exasperation which hides only fondness. From the moment he learned Jon is the Head Archivist, he knew he would be a lot different than Gertrude; even if at first it was “this kid is a proper mess” contrasted with Gertrude’s calculated craft. He can see that what actually makes him different, better, is that he cares. Even though Beholding has him in its grasp far stronger than it ever had Gertrude, he has that spark of human empathy that she deemed an obstacle. He wouldn’t be the kind to sacrifice his own assistants to stop the Apocalypse, which maybe doesn’t give them big chances of success, but makes Gerry trust him. It makes him feel safer and it makes him stand stronger, and maybe that is exactly what is needed. And that one detail, that seriousness in his voice when he asks what happened to his assistants – to his friends – and the worry in his eyes when he checks if they’re okay, that’s what fully convinces Gerry that this man is worth his effort. If they can’t save the world with a strength like that then maybe no one really can.

—

Martin opens the door to Jon’s office to see the man reading something in a book. He looks up at Martin and his lips twitch towards a smile.

“Hello, Martin,” Jon says and immediately yawns. “God, sorry.”

“I was about to ask you if you’re still working.” Martin takes a look at his desk; there’s two empty mugs pushed to the side, a tape recorder (not recording), and some books and papers. Martin notices Jon’s glasses are still where he left them after he found them near the cot in the storage room. “You’re wearing contacts now?” He asks and Jon raises his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Well, I- I noticed you didn’t wear glasses today,” Martin shrugs and points his chin at them. “You forgot them yesterday.”

Jon’s eyes stop at the pair of glasses, and he frowns.

“Huh.” He rubs his chin. “Checks out, I guess.”

“What?” Now Martin frowns and Jon looks up at him, breathing in.

“The, uh—The Eye powers,” he grimaces. “This happened before too. I don’t—I don’t need them anymore.”

“Oh.” Martin shifts. “Well, I just wanted to tell you, you should get some rest. It’s—It’s late.”

Jon smiles fondly, staring into the air. Martin wonders what he's thinking about. Is he going back to memories he doesn't have?

“I really should, shouldn't I?” Jon asks no one in particular and sighs. “Thank you, Martin.”

“F-For what?” Martin laughs a little bit confused, and Jon looks at him for a moment before he shrugs.

“For caring. For being there.”

Martin looks away and shifts awkwardly again. Jon's stare, though gentle, is piercing; overbearing. Martin can't yet decide if it's good or bad, but it is certainly a lot.

“I should—”

“Could you—”

They start at the same time and look at each other. Jon shakes his head and gestures with his hand.

“Please, go first.”

Martin takes a deep breath.

“Could you tell me what—what it is that you want me to remember?”

Jon opens his mouth and closes it. His forehead ripples.

“I...” he begins and sighs, looking at his desk. “I don't think it was you. I mean—I think that... that it was a different version of you. In my past.” He looks up and his brown eyes are sad. “So it makes sense you can't remember because it never actually happened for you.”

Martin deflates with a little “oh” and looks down. The hole in his mind is settling nicely in the fog and he doesn't question it. Why would he? It was always there. He’s only lived this life, not anything else – if anybody would know it would be Jon. And obviously, it was a different Martin that Jon fell— That Jon cared for.

“Were we…” Martin stops, the word “together" left hanging in the air, and Jon looks at him for a second before something flashes in his eyes.

“We don't—I mean, I can't really— It's, it wasn't you so...”

‘I can’t really expect you to have the same feelings now’ is what Jon does not say, but Martin, of course, has no way of knowing that.

“Right,” Martin nods, and he can see Jon's cheeks blush, much the same as his own must right now. Martin swallows the awkwardness and nods again. “Alright, I'll, uh... I'll leave you to it. Then. Get—uh, get some rest.”

He closes the door and exhales deeply. Well, that was disastrous; he thinks, as he walks towards the document storage. There’s something heavy weighing down on his chest but he chooses not to dwell on it; it wouldn’t provide him with any insights he didn’t already know.

[devinescribe]

Games

Chapter 7 to '100 Promises'

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Warnings: Swearing, violence, bullying, blood, I think that's it, but as always feel free to tell me if I missed any.

"I finally got contact lenses. I think they'll be better than my glasses. I mean, yeah, I'll probably still use them, but it's... nevermind, what do you think?" He rambled, a dorky smile on his face. "If it'll make you happy, then you look great," you said, smiling, honestly meaning your words. "I'm asking for your opinion woman, stop giving me the 'if it makes you happy' bullshit. Give me your opinion," he stated, shaking your shoulders."It looks good! I'm not used to seeing you without your glasses, but you look good!" You laughed, your words coming out in a vibrato of sorts from him shaking you. "I'm glad you think so."

"Dear gods my hair is getting long..." he muttered, running his hands through his hair, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. "I think it looks good," you commented, passing by the bathroom with a laundry basket. "Really? I think I kind of like it too..."

"And how much does it hurt?" He questioned. "Not that much, or so I've heard. Plus, we're getting it at the same time, so... no backing out, or I'll cut your hair," you threatened, your hold on his hand tightening a bit. "No, don't you dare. And I won't back out," he said as you dragged him into the shop. (The fact I've been threatened with that-)

"I somehow can't believe we looked like that!" You laughed, pointing at the photo on your phone. It was from high school, and you were both laughing at how dorky you both looked. "Oh gods... actually, I was kind of hot," you said, giggling a bit. "Have we really changed that much?" Niragi questioned. "Well, let's see," you said, opening the camera and telling Niragi to get into frame. He did so, and you both stuck out your tongues, the matching piercings glinting in the light. You snapped the photo, and put it side by side the one from high school. "Wow... that's a big difference, holy shit," he laughed. You snickered, and posted side by side comparison of the the photos. "Yeah. Huge difference."

"Hatter would like to see you... Alone."

You looked back at Ann, and nodded, getting up. "If she's going, I'm going with," Niragi said, getting up himself. "He said he wants to speak to (Y/N) alone. Respect to rules for once please," Ann chided, as you walked to her side. Niragi laughed, finishing with a smirk, "And since when do I listen to the rules?"

You looked back at him with a proud, yet embarrassed face. Definitely not the same Niragi from back in the real world. He was more confident than you last remembered, that was for sure. "Dude, I'll be totally fine. The least they could do is kill me," you said, a bit to nonchalantly for his tastes. "That seems like a worse case scenario, but ok." he responded, "I'm still going with you." "No, you're not. Look, I'll be fine ok? Just wait outside the door," you suggested. He scoffed, but nodded nontheless. Ann stayed quiet, watching this exchange. 'So... is that all it takes to convince him? Really? All we needed was this girl?' Were her thoughts.

"Oh good, you're here!" Hatter exclaimed as soon as you walked in. Ann stayed outside, and shut the doors behind you. You nodded. Was he happy or just extremely charismatic? You didn't know, but whatever it was, it was nice. It made you feel like you were talking to someone you knew. Like the pleasant ladies from your apartment complex. "Well, what do you want to talk about?"

"Where are we?" You asked as you got off the train. "I don't know. Just took a random train. You said you wanted another adventure," he replied. You gasped. "Niragi Suguru, you did not," you said, grabbing onto his hand to make sure you didn't lose him in the large crowd. "I did. And what of it?" He asked, dragging you out. "Oh my gods... Excuse me, sorry to bother you, but which city are we in?" You asked one of the people who worked there. They smiled and answered with, "Shinjuku. Are you lost?"  You shook your head. "No, we'll be fine. Thank you very much!" You said. Niragi dragged you to the exit. "I don't look presentable to be in Shinjuku right now, Niragi," you said, hiding your face. "You always look nice though. And it's called opportunity. I took it, and now we're here. So, let's take advantage of this, yeah?"

Hatter sat you down. "From what Ann and Aguni reported back to me, you're a quick thinker. Great shot apparently. They were both very impressed," he started. You smiled. "I'm honored they felt that way," you said. Hatter chuckled. "Well, Ann said you'd do well in either position of a militant or an executive. And it's just your luck the precious person who held number 7 recently... died. The games, obviously. Before you came here, actually. Maybe it was a sign it was meant to be yours. And, since you've proven yourself useful, I think it's a good idea," Hatter said, rambling a bit. "That's a bit too high for me, isn't it?" You questioned. You had just gotten here, you couldn't possibly be up that high already. "Uh... no. It's not. So, as of today, you shall be a militant," he said dramatically. You laughed, thanking him as he gave you a wristband with the number seven written on the blue tag. You slipped it on your wrist. "Oh, and just so you know, Aguni will most likely take you under his wing. The militants are mostly guys, so be careful. And... uh... your friend can help you find everything. He'll also show you to your new room. That is all. Goodbye now," he said cheerfully. You smiled brightly, thanking him.

You opened the door to leave, seeing Niragi leaning on the wall across the door. You smiled, closing the door softly behind you. "I'm back," you said. He nodded, "I can see that." "Can you really? You have your contact lenses?" You asked, skeptical. He nodded his head. "Surprisingly," he added. "Hmm... and for how many more days do you have them?" You questioned as he led you through the hotel. "Well, I've been in the borderland about 2 and a half weeks-"

"Woah, hold up... you'd been gone for six months up in the real world-"

"Well, I'm starting to think time runs differently in both places. Because no way in hell have I been here 6 months."

"Ok... continue on."

You two talked about whatever came to mind just like you used to. It was like you never skipped a beat. He lead you down into where they kept the weapons. "Only milatants and Hatter are allowed down here. This is the basement, and also where we keep the weapons. So, take your pick," he said, a smirk on his face. "You're a bit to proud of this aren't you?" You asked, looking over the different weapons. "Maybe," he responded. You didn't have to look at him to know he was smirking, you could just hear it in his voice. You picked out a knife that had a strap around. You also picked up a riffle similar to Niragi's, and turned to face him. "Ok, I'm good," you said. "Tomorrow, the militants are heading out on a supply run. Which means you now too. You can wear actual clothes now, isn't that fun?" He joked. You rolled your eyes shoving him playfully. He ran his tongue over his teeth. "That's really how you want to play, huh (L/N)?" He asked. You could hear the tone behind his words. The tone that meant run or your fucked, because whatever game he's scheming will end with you caught. It was quite normal for you two. Playing games with each other was a hobby back in the real world. Didn't matter how childish or immature they were. "Ouch, my last name? That hurts... Suguru." (Is that his last name or his first name? I don't know, I've been treating it as his last name, but I'm probably wrong) You giggled, running off. There was probably tons of places to hide inside the basement, and probably even more places throughout the beach.

"How was last night? Did you have fun?" He teased as soon as you woke up. You rolled your eyes. "Don't even talk to me about last night. Another disappointment," you groaned, rubbing your eyes. "Damn. That bad, huh?" He said, handing you a mug with coffee in it. You took a sip, and smiled. Perfect... He always made really good coffee, and it impressed you. "Yeah... definitely that bad. I heard him leave this morning, let's hope he never comes back," you said. Niragi laughed, taking a sip of his own coffee. The sunlight came in through the sliding glass door of your apartment.  The sky was painted with pinks and purples. Gold dusted the clouds as the sun touched them. It was perfectly picturesque. "One day, we won't have to live in a sucky apartment building, you know? I promise you that one day we'll have... I don't know where do you want to live?" He asked you. You both walked over to the couch, sitting next to eachother. "I don't know... I'd go anywhere as long as I can still have my best friend with me.''

"Come on out, (Y/N). I'll find you sooner or later. We need sleep," he shouted. You stifled a laugh, and crouched down, sneaking around. You could see him looking around for you. You moved backwards, bumping into someone. You slowly turned around. It was the guys Niragi had introduced as 'Last Boss'.

Throughout the day, you had actually had the opportunity to talk to him a bit. More like you talked, while he observed you, occasionally making a sound of sorts to show you he was listening. He'd also answered your questions, so you thought he wouldnt be that bad. You made the quiet signal, putting a finger to your lips. He looked down quizzically. "Playing a game. Can't let him find me. Wanna join?" You whispered to the mysterious man. He nodded slightly, still a bit confused. "Ok, the objective is to not get caught by Niragi. He doesn't know you're playing yet, so I'll figure something out... oh, I got it! You go hide," you whisper shouted, shooing him off. He went to go hide, and you climbed to the top of one of the darker places. "A new player has joined in. One seeker, two hiders!" You shouted. You heard Niragi laugh. "Dumbass! You're letting me know where you are!"  You smirked. That's what you wanted him to think.

"Oh nice! You got his glasses that's 20 points!" The boys shouted. You struggled to get out of the ropes tied your hands together. You heard Niragi groan, and looked up, seeing him on the floor, blood dripping from his nose. "Niragi!" You shouted in worry. He looked over at you, before one of the guys kicked his face into the ground. You struggled against the ropes the boys had tied around your wrist. It dug into your skin, you could feel the skin being rubbed raw from how much you had struggled against them ."So useless without eachother, huh?" One of them taunted. "Stop hurting him!" You yelled, squirming. "Oh? Would you rather we harm you then? You were always such a pretty girl... to bad you decided to defend him," the leader of their little group said, kneeling in front of you. "I don't give a damn if you hurt me. Stop hurting him!' You shouted. "(Y-y/N), don't," Niragi said, before one of the bullies kicked him in the stomach. He winced in pain, screwing his eyes shut. "Stop it! He didn't do anything to you!" You screamed, struggling even more, the ropes creating rope burn on your skin. "It's not a vengeance thing. It's fun," the leader said, grabbing your chin, making you look up at him. You glared at him in disgust, wanting so badly to just hit him, or spit on him in the moment. But you didn't. You didn't because you knew if you did either you or Niragi would get hurt. More likely Niragi, since they knew he was your weakness. "Just like it's fun making girls like you submit," he added with a smirk. "Don't you dare hurt her! Hurt me all you want, but don't touch her!" Niragi yelled. There was confidence in his words, but you also knew how scared he was. You could see it on his face. "That sounds boring though. What if we just make both of you our little puppets for the night, have you both put on a show?'' One of the guys snickered. This was followed by a chorus of 'not a bad idea' and 'sounds interesting.' You looked at Niragi, fear written all over your face.

You ran quietly, and quickly, knowing he could catch up to you. You looked around the dimly lit basement, and saw the exist to go up. Your eyes caught a flash of movement, and someone grabbed you, putting a hand over your mouth. You were shocked at first, going to scream bloody murder, before seeing it was Last Boss. He let you go, and you took a breath. "Oh my gods... dude that was scary," you whispered. He shrugged. "I have a place we can hide. I don't think he's smart enough to find it," He suggested, nodding his head over to Niragi. You stifled a laugh, and nodded, letting him lead you.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N), are you alright?" He worriedly asked, checked on you. You hissed in pain when his hands went over the bruises. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault, if I hadn't-" he started, blaming himself. You grabbed shoulders, and shook your head. "It's not your fault... it's ok," you said, sitting up. The gravel under you poked at the skin exposed from your school skirt. "I-its not ok!" He shouted. "It's... it's not ok. You shouldn't have- I could've-" he started, pulling at his hair. "Niragi. It's not your fault. You didn't... you didn't hurt me," you said, your voice calming. You grabbed his hands, pulling them towards you. You were just kids. Fucking 16 years old(not exactly a kid, but whatever), you shouldn't have to go through this stuff. No kid should. "I should be comforting you, yet here you are, making me feel better. Stop it, you're the one who-"

"Niragi, it happened to both of us. Stop acting like you're ok too."

"But- I'm supposed to... I-"

"Shut up, and come here."

He sighed, sitting besides you. You pulled his head into your lap, and he sighed. "Stop taking care of me. Stop hanging out with me, because you're the one who ends up getting hurt because of me. Please," he pleaded as you ran your fingers through his hair. "No," you responded. "(Y/N), stop being so stubborn! Please, just... just listen to me!" He shouted. You flinched at the sudden loudness. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you," he apologized, noticing when you flinched. You sighed, leaning back on the concrete wall. You muttered back something along the lines of him not having to apologize. You heard thunder, and saw a flash of lightning. "It's going to rain, we should go home," Niragi said. "Don't wanna... let's stay here?" You muttered, watching the sun get covered by the clouds. You were under a bridge, so you at least had coverage. He looked up at you, and nodded. "Ok. We can," he whispered. The raindrops began to splatter on the ground outside the coverage of the bridge, and you sighed in happiness. Niragi sat up, bringing you close to him. The smell of rain filled your senses, and you couldn't help but enjoy the moment, even if you had been in emotional and physical pain before. Being there helped numb it for a while. Being with him helped numb the feeling.

"Alright... if I were (Y/N)... where would I go?" Niragi muttered to himself, walking around. It was too quiet. You weren't a quiet person unless need be, and if he remembers correctly, which he does, you had a losing streak in hide and seek since high school. You were too giggly to hide in silence, or maybe you got scared by being alone in the dark to long. Whatever it had been, you had a losing streak for almost 8 years. That was not about to change, not if he had a say in it. A part of him said he was not acting like himself, and that playing this with you was childish. Especially in the borderlands. He knew he would have to find you either way, so he stopped caring. He remembered what she had said. A new player has joined in. One seeker, two hiders! 'Ok, process of elimination....'

"So, given the fact Chishiya isn't allowed down here, I think I know who she's with, and where she is. Let's see if I'm right.''

This was more memories than actual current events... oh well- hope you enjoyed, have a wonderful day/night, baii!! Oh yeah, just because this is the only place people have a problem with me posting Niragi stuff, if you don't like it, the block button is right there, don't send me death threats or tell me to go kms. Thank you