#storage warehouses near me

[stackkly]

Navigating Zoning Laws and Compliance for Warehouse Tenants

1. Introduction: Why Zoning Laws Matter for Warehouse Tenants

If you're planning to rent a warehouse space for storage or parking, there's one thing you absolutely can’t overlook—zoning laws. Think of them as the rules of the neighborhood. They tell you what you can and can't do with a particular property. Whether you’re a small business storing inventory or a logistics company managing a fleet, understanding zoning is key to avoiding costly headaches later on.

2. What Are Zoning Laws? Explained Simply

Zoning laws are local rules set by city or municipal governments that decide how land and buildings can be used. For example, some areas are zoned for residential homes, others for retail, and others for industrial uses like warehouses.

When you're looking at warehouse space for rent, zoning laws determine if that space can legally be used for warehouse and storage activities. If you don’t follow these rules, you could face fines, shutdowns, or even lawsuits.

3. Understanding Different Zoning Types and What They Mean

Here’s a simple breakdown of common zoning categories:

Residential (R): Houses, apartments, and condos.

Commercial (C): Retail stores, restaurants, and offices.

Industrial (I or M): Manufacturing, storage, and distribution centers.

Most warehouses fall under Industrial zoning, but some may also be allowed in Commercial zones, depending on local laws. That’s why checking the zoning before signing a lease is critical.

4. How Zoning Laws Affect Warehouse Space for Rent

Zoning affects everything from how you operate to how you can customize the space. Want to add refrigeration? Install shelving? Park delivery trucks? All of this can be limited or controlled by zoning laws.

When searching for warehouse storage near me, always verify the zoning designation of each property. Ask the landlord or broker for documentation or check with your city’s planning department.

5. Why Compliance Is Crucial for Warehouse and Storage Operations

Compliance with zoning laws ensures you’re operating legally. Here’s why that matters:

Avoiding Fines: Non-compliance can lead to penalties.

Staying Open: Cities can shut down operations that break zoning rules.

Insurance Coverage: Your policy might be void if you're not legally compliant.

Business Reputation: Violations can damage your reputation and trust.

6. Common Challenges Tenants Face with Zoning Regulations

Tenants often run into problems like:

Renting a space in a commercial zone not allowed for warehouse storage solutions.

Being unaware of limits on truck traffic or operating hours.

Overlooking requirements for fire safety or accessibility.

Avoid surprises by doing your homework early.

7. How to Check Zoning for a Property Before Renting

Here’s how to make sure the warehouse you’re eyeing is zoned properly:

Ask the landlord or agent: They should know the zoning classification.

Check the city’s zoning map: Usually available on your local government’s website.

Call your local planning department: They can confirm zoning and answer questions.

Request a zoning verification letter: This is an official document showing how the property can be used.

8. Step-by-Step Guide to Ensuring Zoning Compliance

Follow these steps to stay on the right side of the law:

Know your needs: What will you be doing in the warehouse?

Check the zoning: Confirm the property allows your activities.

Get proper permits: Especially for storage, parking, or modifications.

Talk to local officials: Get clarity on gray areas.

Have a backup plan: If one space doesn’t fit, be ready to pivot.

9. Working with Local Authorities and Professionals

You don’t have to do it alone. Zoning laws can get complex, especially across different counties or cities. Consider working with:

Zoning consultants

Real estate attorneys

Commercial real estate agents

These pros can help you navigate red tape and make sure your warehouse lease aligns with the law.

10. Permits, Licenses, and Legal Requirements for Warehouse Storage Facilities

Depending on what you're storing or doing, you may need:

Fire department clearance

Hazardous materials permits

Occupancy certificates

Environmental impact assessments

Every city is different, so always check with your local building department.

11. Modifying or Changing the Use of a Warehouse: What You Need to Know

Let’s say you find a great space, but it needs work—like installing loading docks or dividing sections. Before breaking out the toolbox, know this:

Modifications may require approval

Some changes can alter the zoning category

You might need a conditional use permit

Always get written approval before starting renovations.

12. Zoning Considerations for Different Types of Warehouse Storage Solutions

Different storage needs call for different zoning considerations. For example:

Long-term storage of goods is usually fine in standard industrial zones.

Cold storage might need special HVAC permits.

Vehicle storage or parking may require additional space and zoning permissions.

Whether you're managing inventory or offering warehouse storage solutions, knowing these differences helps you choose the right property.

13. Tips to Stay Updated and Avoid Penalties

Zoning rules can change, so keep your operation safe by:

Subscribing to city newsletters

Joining local business groups

Hiring a compliance officer if needed

Regularly reviewing your lease and local ordinances

A little diligence goes a long way in avoiding fines or forced closures.

14. Final Thoughts

Understanding zoning laws doesn’t have to be overwhelming. Think of it like reading the instructions before assembling furniture—it saves you a ton of stress later. By following these guidelines and asking the right questions, you can set up your warehouse operation with confidence and peace of mind.

15. Looking for Warehouse Storage Near You? Explore Smart Options

If you're ready to find warehouse space for rent or need warehouse storage near me, it’s worth exploring platforms that make the search easier and more transparent. A good platform helps you filter based on zoning-friendly areas, available amenities, and flexible lease terms.

One such solution is Stackkly.com—a growing marketplace for warehouse and storage spaces. Whether you’re storing goods, parking fleets, or expanding your logistics footprint, it’s a helpful resource worth checking out. With zoning-savvy listings and user-friendly tools, it might just make your next move a lot smoother.

16. FAQ

1. Do I need to check zoning laws before renting warehouse space for rent?

Yes, definitely. Before you rent warehouse space, it’s crucial to make sure the zoning allows the type of business you plan to run. For example, if you're storing goods, manufacturing, or running a logistics business, the space must be zoned for that specific use. Always confirm this with your landlord and local zoning office first.

2. How can I find out if a warehouse is zoned for my business?

Start by asking the property owner for zoning details. Then, double-check with your local zoning department or city website. You can also search "[your city] zoning map" online to look up the property’s zoning classification and what’s allowed there.

3. What happens if I use a warehouse for something it’s not zoned for?

You could face fines, forced closure, or eviction. Zoning rules are serious. Always ensure that your intended use—whether it's storage, distribution, or light manufacturing—is fully compliant before moving in.

4. Can I apply for a zoning change or special permit for a warehouse storage facility?

Yes, in many cases you can. This is called a "zoning variance" or "conditional use permit." You'll need to apply through the local planning department. Just know that approvals can take time and aren’t always guaranteed.

5. Is compliance only about zoning, or is there more I need to check?

Good question. Compliance includes zoning, fire safety codes, occupancy permits, and sometimes even environmental regulations—especially if you’re storing hazardous materials. Always ask about past inspections and what permits the space currently holds.

6. Do all warehouse storage facilities have the same zoning rules?

Not at all. Zoning laws vary by city, even by neighborhood. A space listed as warehouse storage near me may be zoned differently than a similar facility just a few miles away. Always check locally.

7. What kind of businesses can legally operate in warehouse and storage spaces?

Typically, warehousing, e-commerce, light manufacturing, and distribution centers are allowed. But if you're using the space for customer visits or retail, that may require different zoning. Always verify your specific use case before signing a lease.

8. How do I make sure the warehouse I’m renting is up to code?

Ask the owner for any recent inspection reports or certificates of occupancy. You can also hire a building inspector to review things like fire exits, sprinklers, and ventilation—especially for larger warehouse storage solutions.

9. Can I modify a warehouse to fit my needs?

Usually, yes—but you’ll need landlord approval and possibly new permits depending on the changes. For example, installing racking systems or office space in a warehouse and storage unit might require an updated floor plan and building permit.

10. Are there different rules for short-term vs. long-term warehouse rentals?

Sometimes. Long-term leases usually involve more responsibility for compliance, like maintaining safety systems. Short-term leases may come with restrictions on what you can store or modify. Clarify this with the landlord up front.

11. What should I ask the landlord before renting a warehouse space?

Ask about zoning, previous uses, permits, allowed modifications, and whether the space meets fire and safety codes. Also confirm if the warehouse storage facility is suitable for your type of goods or operations.

12. Are self-storage warehouses subject to the same zoning laws as commercial warehouse spaces?

Not always. Warehouse storage near me might be marketed as self-storage or commercial, but zoning requirements for each can differ. Self-storage often falls under a different classification, so always double-check based on your intended use.

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[completewarehousesolutions]

Enhance Safety and Organization with a Custom Warehouse fit-out

Maximizing Space with a Custom Warehouse Design A well-planned warehouse fit-out can transform your space to make it more efficient and functional. Working with experts like Complete Warehouse Solutions can get a custom design that suits your needs. This includes using high-quality materials and professional installation services to enhance your space and business operations.

Creating Safer and More Comfortable Workspaces A warehouse fit-out can improve worker safety and comfort. You can choose between open-plan offices for a modern look or traditional enclosed offices that offer more privacy. In noisy environments with machines and forklifts, these enclosed offices can be soundproofed to reduce distractions.

Better Supervision with Clear Views By using perimeter partitions with double-glazed windows, managers can have a clear view of the warehouse while keeping noise to a minimum. This setup allows supervisors to easily monitor daily operations without leaving their office.

Designing the Perfect Office for Your Warehouse The offices in your warehouse can be fully customized. You can select from various floor coverings like carpet tiles, vinyl, or timber laminate. For the ceiling, you can choose either plasterboard or drop-in tiles, with thermal insulation added if new air conditioning is being installed.

Furnishing the New Office Spaces To complete the office fit-out, you can include workstations, storage cupboards, meeting tables, shelving systems, and even office seating. For meeting and collaboration purposes, whiteboards and pinboards can also be installed.

Installing Essential Services A fit-out wouldn’t be complete without essential services like air conditioning, fire protection systems, plumbing, and electrical installations. These features ensure that your warehouse is fully equipped to handle day-to-day operations smoothly.

Improving Functionality with Specific Areas A warehouse fit-out can also help you divide your space into specific areas for different tasks. These could include:

Dedicated office spaces

Separate areas for machinery

Restrooms for staff

Control rooms for managing operations

A reception area for visitors

Employee break rooms to relax and recharge

On-site cafeteria or eateries

Conclusion: Enhancing Your Warehouse with a Fit-Out

A well-planned warehouse fit out can greatly improve your business operations efficiency and safety while creating a more comfortable environment for your employees. Complete Warehouse Solutions, serving Lake Illawarra, NSW, is here to help you design and build the perfect fit-out for your warehouse.

[samratraja744]

Exploring Affordable and Flexible Warehouse Rental Solutions for Businesses

In today's dynamic business environment, finding the right affordable warehouse rental services near me can significantly impact a company's efficiency and growth. Whether you’re a small business owner or part of a larger corporation, having access to reliable warehouse storage solutions is crucial for inventory management and logistics optimization.

Why Choosing the Right Warehouse Matters

When looking for a flexible warehouse leasing option in your city, it’s essential to consider the unique needs of your business. For example, if you run an e-commerce store, a short-term warehouse space rental for e-commerce might be ideal during peak seasons to handle increased demand. On the other hand, businesses dealing with perishables should prioritize secure warehouse storage for perishable goods to maintain the quality of their products.

Modern Warehousing Facilities for All Types of Businesses

BookMyWarehouse offers industrial warehouse space for rent at competitive prices, ensuring you get the best value for your investment. Our warehouse spaces for lease with 24/7 access cater to businesses of all sizes, providing convenience and security. Whether you’re a startup or a growing enterprise, we have cost-effective warehousing solutions for startups that can scale according to your needs.

Features of an Ideal Warehouse Space

A good warehouse should have modern amenities such as loading docks and easy access to transportation routes. At BookMyWarehouse, we provide modern warehousing facilities with loading docks to streamline your logistics operations. For businesses that require a controlled environment, we offer climate-controlled warehouse spaces for sensitive products, ensuring that your delicate items are stored in optimal conditions.

Finding the Right Warehouse Location

Choosing the right warehouse location can be a game-changer for your business. A strategically located warehouse provides easy access to key markets and transportation networks. Warehouse rentals with easy access to major highways reduce transit times and logistics costs, making it easier to manage your supply chain.

Benefits of Shared Warehousing Services

Shared warehousing is an excellent option for businesses looking to reduce costs. Our shared warehousing services for inventory management allow multiple companies to share a single space, splitting the costs and resources.

Final Thoughts

Whether you need scalable warehousing solutions or are just looking for tips for renting warehouse space in your city, BookMyWarehouse has got you covered. Explore our extensive range of services and find the perfect storage solution for your business today!

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Efficient Solar Cold Rooms in Mumbai | Keep Your Goods Fresh

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Safe, fast & reliable Delivery Express.

Thank you for choosing Cargomate Logistics Pvt. Ltd. as your dependable source for delivery services that are secure, prompt, and efficient. Providing effective logistics solutions that are customized to your needs is our area of expertise at Cargomate. Our professional team makes sure that your shipments arrive at their destination without any problems, with an emphasis on security and prompt delivery. Your cargo will travel with peace of mind at every turn thanks to our dedication to excellence, whether it's local or worldwide. When you want a delivery experience that is more than reliable, go with Cargomate Logistics.

[dtc-express-packers-and-movers]

Best warehouse service in delhi - Warehouse Self Storage Service Provider Delhi

Are you looking for logistics and warehousing solutions in Delhi? To help you grow your business, you also need a flexible partner who can adapt as needed. Dtc Express Packers and Movers provides Warehouse in Delhi for the storage needs of individuals and businesses. Located in the bustling heart of Delhi, where life is as fast as growth, DTC Express Packers and Movers provides a safe place to store your belongings. Or if you want to rent a Warehouse service in Delhi, Call us today.

[trilogywarehousepartners]

Cold Room Warehouse

Our cold room warehouse facility is designed to maintain certain environmental conditions and to keep temperature sensitive products. we are able to bring Fortune 500 level expertise to all size operations at an affordable price.

[buckysfaveplum]

her weakness

summary: you’re an enhanced individual with strong abilities and one moral code- you only fight with them when your opponent is also enhanced. during the fight with john walker, that code gets broken when bucky is hurt

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: violence, blood, fighting, it’s a fight seen so yea expect things relating to that

a/n: i rewatched tfatws and this fight always makes me so worried for my bbs so yea this was born. I typed it up helllllla quick so I'm sorry if its trash, I'm not too proud of this one idk.

masterlist | send requests

Your feet followed closely behind Bucky as you approached the warehouse. Your limbs were stiff and your skin clammy. Your hand stayed firmly in Bucky’s grasp as you approached John Walker. Sam had tracked him to a storage warehouse near the square you had just witnessed brutality in.

He murdered him, in cold blood, with Steve’s shield. You couldn’t get the screams of the public out of your head, the sound of the vibranium as it slashed into the flagsmasher’s body. You would’ve thrown up if Bucky hadn’t pushed you behind him. You had seen much worse, much more gruesome violence in your line of work. But something about this was sickening, rotting away in your stomach as you tried to grapple with the truth that the shield your friend once carried with honor and pride was just used by an unhinged soldier who found joy in the worst parts of the job.

Bucky stayed ahead of you, following Sam as they entered the building. Your hand trembled in his vibranium grasp. His thumb gently brushed across the veins and bones of your hand, trying to bring you comfort before the scene he knew was about to play out.

As you walked into the large space, you saw him. He was too composed and stoic for what had just taken place. His tall and slender figure loomed as he casually walked up to you all, barely acknowledging Sam as he tried to get him to listen.

“Walker,” Sam started. The soldier brushed Sam’s stern tone off, hopefully delaying what he knew was coming.

“You guys should see a medic, you don’t look so good,” He said, walking past you.

“Stop, Walker,” Sam took a few steps closer, trying again to get him to focus.

Your jaw tightened as you watched the man pace erratically in front of you. He was muttering quietly before responding as if trying to convince himself what he was saying had any truth.

“What?” He asked, coming closer. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do.”

Your grip on Bucky tightened, sensing Walker’s anger began to boil over. You knew a fight was coming, it always was. 

“I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!” Walker shouted, his arms waving now and revealing how off the deep end he had gone. 

You knew the moment you saw him in that fight. He stole the serum and took it for himself. This behavior just confirmed it. But the serum only enhanced what was already bubbling under the surface. The same John you meet on the highway. The same John who waltzed into the police station as if he had the authority or right to control Bucky and call him an ‘asset’. It was always there. 

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.”

Bucky’s smooth and deep voice cut through the tension in the room. You felt his grip on your hand squeeze for a moment, making sure you were okay. He could always sense your anxiety in the field. Your powers made keeping your calm difficult. You would never use them in battle unless your opponent was enhanced as well. You were a skilled fighter and agent, you didn’t need them. And it didn’t always seem ethical. But keeping them at bay, in check, could prove difficult- especially in heightened situations such as this.

Walker scoffed at Bucky’s words, dismissing the truth like it was nothing.

“Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well,” Bucky said.

“I’m not like you!” Walker’s voice was full of disgust and resentment. From the moment you met him, you could sense his quiet disdain for your best friend. Looking down his nose at him like he was some scum left over from Steve's life, something he’d always have to deal with. Yet at the same time, resentment. Jealousy over his power, control, and abilities in his enhanced body. As if that’s what made him an excellent fighter. Or a good person.

Your spare hand moved between Bucky’s shoulder blades, giving him a subtle and quiet support as you prepared.

“Listen, it was the heat of the battle, okay?” Sam said, taking a step closer to Walker. That shield danced in your vision, taunting you as he paced back and forth. “If you explain what happened, they may consider your record.”

Walker’s distress spread across his face, his brows furrowing and eyes scrunching as he tussled with Sam’s words.

“We don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” Sam said.

The warehouse went silent as Walker stared at the ground before him. Bucky gave you a soft, tight-lipped smile before begrudgingly dropping your hand. He slowly took a step towards the man, joining Sam.

“John…” Bucky said, calmly. 

“You gotta give me the shield, man,” Sam said.

That did it. You could feel the room shift that second.

A disturbing serene aura washed over Walker at that moment. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to you all. His eyes were dark, lacking a certain warmth and compassion you had grown so used to seeing through that blue cowl. A certain warmth that left when he hung up the shield.

“Oh…. so that’s what this is,” Walker said. “You almost got me.”

You could see his grip on the shield tighten, the leather straps twisting between his fingers.

“You made a mistake,” Sam said.

You slowly took a step forward, your hands flexing as you prepared for what was to come. Walker finally turned his gaze to you. His eyes roamed you up and down. You could’ve sworn you saw Bucky’s jaw clench, that familiar muscle tightening in distress. Walker smirked at you before glancing at Bucky. He could read the protectiveness radiating off of your supersoldier.

“You don’t wanna do this,” Walker said to him.

Bucky didn’t meet his gaze. His fists balled at his side, practically shaking with anger. He never took pleasure in a fight, every punch or kick felt like a necessity rather than enjoyment. But he couldn’t deny how much he desired to rip that shield from his grimy hands.

“Yeah we do,” Bucky said.

Sam lurched forward first, Bucky soon following suit. Your feet moved quickly, moving behind Walker as your friends attacked from the front. The man moved with a speed you had yet to see from him, a brute force you could only get from the serum.

With a harsh kick, Walker sent Sam flying away, leaving you and Bucky alone. You tried to knock Walker down from the back as Bucky grappled with the shield. As you sent a harsh kick into the back of Walker’s knees, he spun quickly and sent a jab into Bucky’s gut sending him backward in pain and knocking him off balance. Before you could back him up, Walker slammed a harsh punch into Bucky’s jaw. Your heart raced and your hands shook as you watched him drop to the ground. You sprung into action, pulling the shield back in your hands and keeping Walker from smashing it into Bucky’s face. Sam leaped in, kicking the shield up and drawing attention to him.

You slammed a kick into Walker’s back, sending him stumbling forward as Sam slashed at him with his wings. Bucky leaped up, his arm aiming to come down on the faux Captain America’s back hard but was ultimately blocked by the shield. 

You were growing frustrated. Walker never packed this much of a punch. The serum raged through his veins, lacing each kick and swing of the shield with force and hate. As you and Sam continued to trade blocks at Walker, Bucky attempted to pull him down but was quickly met with the shield swinging into the side of his face. Your legs shook. The longer this dragged out the more difficult you find keeping your emotions in check. The longer you watched your favorite person in the world become decorated with blood and bruises, the more your ethical code began to look like a suggestion. Walker deserved a swift blast to the face and more. But you held off. 

Walker slammed the shield into Sam’s back, sending him down. As your two friends recovered briefly, it was just you and him. You surged forward at the man, dodging as he swung at you. Being smaller than the two Avengers alongside you made it much easier to evade Walker’s sloppy attacks. You sent a firm kick into his chest followed by an uppercut into his chin. As he spun and tumbled, Bucky was back on his feet and meeting Walker with punches. Bucky’s attacks quickly led the pair into a tight spot, backing Walker up into a heavy piece of machinery. The pair spun in circles over the shield, yanking the vibranium disc back and forth and trading beatings in between. Sam quickly followed you over, diving in for aid, but quickly was sent flying back by Walker’s attacks. His body slammed to the ground with a grunt.

While Bucky worked, you glanced at Sam. He pushed himself to his feet slowly, preparing to dive back into the fight. In your moment of distraction, the fear and care for your dear friend overriding your common sense to keep fighting, you heard Walker’s voice pull you back. Bucky was trapped between the shield and a machine. You rushed over to help but it was far too late.

“Why are you making me do this?!” Before you could register what Walker was saying, you watched as Bucky went flying. 

Walker’s forceful swing of the shield sent him hurtling across the warehouse. Your body froze as if someone had filled your veins with cement. The dramatic scene Walker had created came to an end with Bucky’s body smashing into an electrified pole and crashing to the ground. The might of his impact snapped the pole in the middle, sparks cascaded from the steel and flooded onto the floors; leading your eyes to Bucky. 

“Bucky!” You screamed.

His body lay limp and splayed out on the cold dirty floors. His face was smushed into the cement. His limbs didn’t dare to move. Except for his vibranium arm, which twitched and spasmed under his body; blue and white sparks burst out from the plates adding to the horror.

Your breaths were heavy and shaky, your hands trembled at your sides as the vibrating blue of your powers began to spark at your fingertips; mirroring the sight of your best friend’s arm. The room was spinning, at least that’s what made sense to you. Your balance was unstable, your knees threatening to buckle at any moment. You turned to spare a look at Sam, begging him for permission. But he was already back on his feet and rushing towards Walker. 

“Go!” He shouted.

You had never been faster. Your abilities never gave you the gift of flight but in that moment they very well could have. Your legs became weak and your steps messy as you neared Bucky. You crashed to your knees beside him, pain radiated up your thighs from the impact but you couldn’t care. It couldn’t be worse than the expanding tight pain in your chest as you struggled to breathe.

Your hands quivered as they hovered over his body. With him lying so still you could finally take in the damage Walker had done to his face. Blood was splattered all over, deep purple and blue hues bloomed across his cheekbones, and a nasty split had opened on his lip. Worst of all, his nose was broken.

The sparks continued to burst from the plates of his arm, his hand jerking and spasming with an unsettling sound of grinding metal. Quickly, you placed your hands firmly on the vibranium. A deep blue beamed from under your palms, cascading the metallic golds and blacks of his arm in your glow. The excess electricity from the crash moved in waves through the arm up into your hands. You focused as all the veins in your body became electrified, an aqua glow shone through your skin as the energy you. Your once y/e/c eyes were quickly overtaken, the cool energy overriding your iris’ and leaving an intense indigo shine. With a sharp gasp and breath, you let go. His arm had stopped moving, now lying as still and motionless as he did. 

“Bucky,” you said, giving his damaged body a soft shake. “Bucky, wake up.”

He didn’t move, his face slack and limps heavy as you struggled to turn him to his back and off of his arm. Your hands rushed to his face, cupping his cheeks and holding him close as if you could shield him from more of John Walker’s savagery. If someone had the power to take your abilities and trade them for the ability to heal, you’d offer them anything they wished just for the potential to spare Bucky from his pain even for a moment. 

“Buck… come on wake up,” the fresh blood from his injuries spilled into your fingertips, the crimson caked into your cuticles and threatened not to leave.

“Plum, please,” His body twitched; your lungs finally filled with air. 

His breaths were labored but there, his chest rattled as he sucked in much-needed air. Your fingers moved to his neck, their shuddering finally stilling as you felt his pulse return to a firm and strong pattern.

The sounds of Sam’s grunts and Walker’s cries swiftly pulled your attention back to your friend. He was up in the air, a long metal cord pulling on the shield and attempting to free it from Walker’s venomous grasp. To no avail, as soon Sam was flung back to the floor and across the room. The shield clattered to the ground, equally laid between the two men. The smug and determined look on Walker’s face enraged you, the blue glow returning to your eyes. Sam glanced over at you before rushing for the shield. He needed you.

You turned back to Bucky, still unresponsive to your touches and voice. He was breathing, his pulse steady. Taking in the broken state of his body, his face battered and bloodied, you couldn’t hold back your rage any longer.

It was as if something had possessed you. Gently, you laid Bucky back to the ground, pressing a trembling kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, your voice monotone yet determined. The expressions of concern, fear, and horror that had played upon your face just moments ago were now gone. You were cold and still, as you rose to your feet and walked over to the two men fighting behind you.

Before Walker could grab the shield, a harsh blast of blue energy sent him flying back in the opposite direction. The man was studded, confused by how he could have been knocked down. He looked up to see you rushing towards him. You were steady in your movement, not running but with each step winding up for the next blow. Your hands were baked in a fierce glow of aqua as you channeled more energy through your fingertips. 

Walker scrambled to his feet, preparing for the offense. Before he could even take a step he was back on the ground with another blast from you. A loud cry fell from your lips as you slammed him down with force from your power. As you ran up to Walker, he quickly sent a firm hit to your jaw. You stumbled back, regaining your vision to see him coming at you. You jumped up, knees to your chest and feet pressing on his as you blasted him once again. 

He was on the ground with you towering over him. His face was coated in shades of black and blue, mirroring the face you were trembling over just seconds ago. Good, he deserved that and more.

You blasted him again as he struggled to crawl away. You followed him, hot on his trail as energy overflowed from your hands. The shield was long forgotten by you, only driven by your need for revenge. Bucky couldn’t even answer you, couldn’t move. He needed to pay.

Walker’s body slammed back into machinery as you surged more energy at him. He was done, hands shaking above him as he prepared for your next blow.

“We’re better than this right? Captain America doesn’t do this,” Walker said through his split lip and shaking jaw.

You scoffed; if only he had thought that way an hour ago. You wouldn’t be here. Bucky would be okay.

“Good thing I’m not Captain America,” you said. Walker shielded his face as you wound up your aim. Energy radiated from your fist up your forearm as you pulled it back to deliver one last shot.

“Y/n, stop!” Sam shouted.

Your blast was halted by a firm hand on your upper arm. You recognized the stillness and coolness that held onto your body. Turning you saw Bucky behind you. He was shaking as he stood, breaths labored and heavy, but there he was. Sam ran up behind the two of you, shield in hand as he looked at you. But all you could focus on was Bucky.

Bucky stepped forward, shaking his head softly as he lowered your arm. 

“This isn’t you, you don’t do this,” he said. Your nostrils flared as you breathed heavily, struggling to reel your rage back in. You glanced back at Walker who lay on the ground, glaring at you smugly. Your eyes shone brighter, your fists clenching as the glow intensified. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, taking your face and turning you to look back at him. “You’re not him.”

The energy overtaking your body began to fade as you relaxed under his firm touch. The uncontrollable blue glow began to fade back into your body, leaving you panting as you tried to calm your emotions. Bucky stood before you, vibranium hand stroking your own.

“You’re okay,” you said.

“I’m okay. Hey, hey, I’m okay. It’s over,” he said, pulling you away from the scene you had created. He walked you slowly back towards Sam, you shook in his grasp. Walker struggled to stand as he watched the three of you leave. The shield taunted him as it hung off of Sam’s arm, finally back with its true owner. The Captain America.

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking at Sam. “I just….” you glanced at Bucky, once again seeing the battering of his beautiful face. Your throat swelled as you lost your words, choking on your fear.

“We got it back,” Sam said, giving your shoulder a firm squeeze before heading out of the building. His limp as he walked didn’t escape you.

Bucky gripped your hand tightly, pulling you with him as he walked. He didn’t make it far before his knees began to buckle, his body slipping as he fell. You were at his side in a heartbeat, arm hauling him back up beside you; refusing to let his body crash to the filthy ground again. 

“Hey, hold onto me,” you said. You wrapped his arm around your shoulder and his other gripped at your waist as you began to pull him from the warehouse, his feet limping and tripping as he struggled to walk. Walker’s body began to fade in the distance as you left.

“Why did you do that, doll?” Bucky asked as you walked, his voice slurred and low. Each wince and suck of breath stabbed at your side like a pecking bird, refusing to let your wound heal. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never done that. I….” you paused, stopping your feet as you gave him a moment to catch his breath. “When I saw you hit that pole, I lost it.”

“I’m okay, Y/n,” he said, yet his words seemed to hold no weight as he struggled to stay upright at your side.

“Your arm was sparking, Bucky. You weren’t moving. I-I thought that you…” You couldn’t finish, gripping him tighter as your voice shook. As if letting him go would give the world a chance to tear him from you once again. Your fingertips dug into his tact suit, determined to embed yourself in him.

“Hey, babydoll,” he said, hoisting himself up just enough to take your face in his hands. He swayed on his feet as he stood, intent on holding you close as he spoke. Your hands held him steady at his side.

“I’m here, I’ll always be here. But no matter what happens to me, I don’t want you to lose yourself,” he said, stroking your cheek. “I can’t have that.”

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you said.

“You won’t. I’m right here, I’m always coming back to you.”

You nodded softly as you rested your head on his chest. His hands moved to your hair as he held you close. Your hands wound around his center, keeping him safe in your arms. As long as you were around, no one would take him.

“You’re so good, you’re so special, Y/n. You need to be strong, even if I get hurt. You can’t drop your morals for me. They mean too much to you,” he said.

“I think you may be my weakness,” you said, your voice muffled in his chest. He tucked himself closer into you at your words, his head resting upon yours. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head.

“You’ve always been mine,” he said softly.

---

taglist:

(comment to join <3)

[theboxme]

5 Things You Need To Move Into Your Self Storage Unit Now

As we go on with our lives, several things happen. Along the road are changes that either had a huge impact on us or had only brushed us enough to leave a fleeting memory. Our collection of experiences has also lead us to encounter different people, places, and emotions that ultimately shaped who we are today.

In line with these experiences are items that may have accumulated throughout the years. Whether you are someone who’s planning to move to another residence, a travel junkie who likes the outdoors, or simply someone wanting to get rid of clutter; self storage units are an efficient way of managing your belongings.

There may be instances wherein you get overwhelmed by the amount of things in your space, or have experienced signs that you may be needing self storage. If you’re a first-timer in the world of storage units, here are the 5 things you should consider moving into a storage space to help you get sorted.

Seasonal Wear & Decor

Everyone loves holidays, more so that some people go the extra mile to prepare extravagant and fancy Halloween or Christmas decorations. If you belong to this lot, getting a storage unit can help you get organized and clutter-free. Plenty of people use self storage units to keep their seasonal decors safe, accessible, and even last longer.

Storage companies are often the go-to place for several people who want an organized and clean wardrobe. As seasons change, keeping your winter or summer clothes in a unit can save you a lot of space and make plenty of room for more. It also saves you time for spring cleaning as you only need to collect and store your seasonal clothes in your self storage- this means no more worrying on how to manage your expanding wardrobe.

Sports & Outdoor Equipment

Is your camping gear taking a lot of space in your apartment? Maybe those golf clubs, and tennis rackets have gathered dust along with other stuff in your closet. Don’t let your sports and hobbies get in the way of a clutter-free, spacious, and relaxing home.

Once you start keeping your sports and outdoor gear in a unit, it will be more efficient in organizing your camping trips or planning your next sports tournament. You no longer have to fight tooth and nail looking for your tennis balls or rackets in your garage or closet full of clutter. As simple as dropping by your storage unit along the way will save you a lot of time so you can use that energy to enjoy your recreational activities.

Expensive Collector’s Items, Rare Art Pieces, and Valuables

The truth is, our homes are not the ideal place to make our most prized possessions last longer. Unless you have a dedicated room for storing your collectibles, which most people don’t, your valuables are at risk of damage. As much as you love collecting those rare and vintage toys or even first-edition books, do not let it take over your space.

Your valuables need a different kind of demand when it comes to storage. Environmental conditions are factors we cannot control and there’s only so much that our thermostat can do. Fortunately, storage units with climate control are easy to come by. This is why for someone who’s an avid collector, getting a self storage unit is fundamental.

Baby Products and Unused Furniture

Several modern-day couples plan their family, and if you’re one of them, moving your unused baby gear into storage while waiting for baby number 2 or 3 can save you the headache and make plenty of room for parenting. Baby gears are an investment. So it’s only worth the effort in taking care of it knowing baby 2 isn’t coming very soon. Storage companies offer different solutions and storage sizes so you can work out exactly how much space you need.

Additionally, unused furniture you can’t let go should be shifted to a unit immediately. You wouldn’t want it to fall into disuse or damage the craftsmanship. You can always keep the furniture that holds sentimental value or bring you joy in a storage unit until you decide what to do with it. You can also reclaim these if you’ve space that needs transforming or sprucing up.

Travel Equipment, Luggage and Empty Suitcases

Unless you’re a frequent traveler, keeping your unused luggage, and suitcases is always a good idea. Until you plan your next vacation or book a flight back to your hometown, your home can benefit from the extra space you save when storing your travel equipment in your storage unit. Empty suitcases can take up so much closet or garage space. It’s efficient to store them separately to make room for an organized home. Plus, storing them at home can be tricky.

Bonus: Documents and Important Files

Believe it or not, storage units can also be used to archive your most important documents. Your papers can benefit from the climate-controlled units that storage companies offer. Humidity is your enemy when it comes to keeping your documents safe, and storage units take that worry away by creating safe, accessible and secure spaces for your most important files.

Store Smart, and take advantage of the benefits of the self storage units in Dubai can offer. If you need help in deciding how much storage space you need, you can always drop by at The Box and let’s discuss it over coffee or tea and some biscuits in between.

[yunholic-jongholic]

Bound to the Bosses [Part 3] | C.JH x Reader x J.YH

SUMMARY | At the age of 20, you surrendered your freedom to a former mafia gang in exchange for a secure life and all your needs met. You pledged your existence to two of the members, Choi Jongho and Jeong Yunho, who managed the leading underground strip club and took you under their wing. They both permit you to perform on weekend nights, but once the lights go out and the workday ends, you belong solely to both of them.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Fem!Reader x Yunho

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS | Mean Dom!Jongho, Strip Club Setting, NSFW, SMUT, ANGST, Explicit Content, Cursing, Weapon Use, Bruises, Mentions of Blood, Death and Harming, Mentions of Injuries, Unprotected Sex (Don't Do That...), Marking, Creampie, || I might be missing some, my editor died on me because she got the flu right now. :') ||

WORD COUNT | 7.4k

AUTHOR NOTE | This one is more Jongho-focused. Like I said in the last chapter. Next chapter will go back to being 2HO focused... ;)

TAG LIST | @mingisleftnipple

•

Your gut told you this was a bad idea. That if Hongjoong found out you were following them, there would be hell to pay.

But you didn’t care.

Yunho was going into this alone—or at least, that’s what Hongjoong had ordered. But it was clear Yeosang and Wooyoung weren’t going to just let him walk into danger by himself. They were involved now, which meant you had even less reason to stay behind.

You had a car. You barely ever used it, considering Yunho and Jongho always made sure you had everything you needed. But tonight, it served a purpose.

Carefully, you trailed them at a distance, keeping your headlights dim as you followed their car through the darkened streets. The city was eerily quiet at this hour, amplifying the tension that sat heavily in your chest.

You didn’t know what you were expecting when they finally reached their destination, but the place they stopped at sent a chill down your spine.

An abandoned warehouse.

Classic.

You pulled over a short distance away, parking in the shadows where you wouldn't be seen. Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as you watched Yunho and Yeosang jump out of their car, moving quickly and quietly toward the entrance.

They’re sneaking in.

That meant this wasn’t a simple exchange. It wasn’t a negotiation.

This was an ambush.

Your heart pounded as you watched them disappear inside, your mind racing with possibilities. If Jongho was inside, what condition would he be in? Were they expecting Yunho and the others? Was this a setup?

You had no answers. But you did know one thing—

You weren’t about to sit in the car and wait.

Steeling yourself, you took a deep breath before quietly stepping out, making sure to stay in the shadows. If Yunho and the others were going in, you needed to find a way to stay close—without getting caught.

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a dull glow over the abandoned warehouse, you let out a quiet sigh. The rising sun meant time was slipping away—if Yunho and Yeosang were inside, things were already happening.

You couldn’t afford to waste another second.

Your eyes scanned the building frantically until you noticed it—a slightly creaked-open window near the side of the structure. Perfect.

You whispered the word under your breath, glancing around to ensure no one was watching. The last thing you needed was for a stray guard or lookout to catch you snooping around.

The window wasn’t too high, but high enough that you needed something to help you climb. Your eyes flicked toward a rusted metal crate nearby, likely used for storage back when this place was still functional. Without hesitation, you ran toward it, gripping the edges tightly before dragging it beneath the window.

It groaned under your weight as you carefully stepped on top, testing if it would hold. Thankfully, it did.

Now came the tricky part.

Reaching up, you placed your hands against the edge of the window, pushing it open just enough to squeeze through. Your heart pounded as you hoisted yourself up, legs scrambling slightly before you managed to slip inside.

The inside of the warehouse was dark, the only source of light coming from the high, dirt-covered windows. Dust swirled in the air, and the distant echoes of footsteps sent a chill down your spine.

You had made it inside.

Now, you just had to find Yunho and Yeosang—before something went terribly wrong.

Your body tensed as you crouched behind a stack of old crates, desperately trying to steady your breathing. No weapons. No plan. And now, you’re trapped inside an enemy hideout.

You had known sneaking in was reckless, but hearing those words—

"The boss said he’ll have that stupid club owner killed by tonight. He just needs a few more answers out of him."

Your stomach twisted violently. Jongho.

They were planning to kill him.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, biting down on your lip to keep from making any noise. Your heartbeat pounded so hard you were sure they could hear it.

The two men continued walking, their heavy boots scraping against the concrete floor as they passed your hiding spot. You kept completely still, watching their silhouettes move deeper into the warehouse.

Think, think, think! You needed a weapon. Anything.

Your eyes flickered around the dimly lit space. There was nothing immediately useful near you—just empty crates, broken metal scraps, and dust-covered tools. But then, you spotted it—

A rusted crowbar leaning against the wall a few feet away.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Swallowing hard, you waited for the men’s footsteps to fade before carefully crawling toward it, fingers trembling as you reached out. The cold metal felt heavy in your hands, a crude but necessary defense.

You took a deep breath, gripping it tightly.

You had to find Yunho and Yeosang.

And more importantly—

You had to get Jongho out before it was too late.

The dim glow of dawn barely seeped into the warehouse, leaving you surrounded by nothing but darkness and the faint echo of distant footsteps. Your grip tightened around the crowbar as you stared at the sealed door in front of you.

This had to be it.

Jongho has to be in there.

Your breath was uneven, anxiety creeping into your chest as you positioned the crowbar against the rusted lock. There was no time to hesitate. With a deep breath, you swung—

CLANG.

The impact sent vibrations up your arms, but the lock held.

You gritted your teeth and swung again. And again. Your hands were shaking, sweat forming at your temples as you forced every ounce of strength into breaking the lock.

Finally—

CRACK.

The lock snapped, the broken metal falling to the ground with a dull clink. You barely gave yourself time to process before pushing the door open, its rusty hinges groaning in protest.

Inside, the air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat. The room was dark, but not enough to hide the figure slumped against the chair in the center.

Jongho.

Your stomach dropped at the sight of him. His arms were tied behind his back, his head hanging forward. Blood stained his once-clean shirt, cuts littering his skin.

For a terrifying moment, he didn’t move.

“Jongho?” you whispered, your voice shaky as you stepped forward.

Silence.

Panic flared in your chest as you rushed toward him, your hands reaching out to touch his face, his jawline bruised from the obvious beating he had taken.

Then—he stirred.

A low groan escaped his lips as his eyes fluttered open, sluggish and unfocused. His breathing was shallow, but he was alive.

“Y/N…?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Relief washed over you so fast you almost felt dizzy.

“I’m getting you out of here,” you whispered urgently, already fumbling with the ropes binding his wrists. Your hands were shaking, your adrenaline spiking as you worked quickly.

But then—

Heavy footsteps echoed from outside the door.

Your blood ran cold.

You weren’t alone anymore.

Jongho groaned, barely able to lift his head, but his words were firm. "Go... Get out of here."

You ignored him, gripping the crowbar tightly as you frantically tried to tear the knots apart. Your fingers burned from the effort, but you weren’t about to leave him here.

“I am not leaving you to die out here!” you hissed, desperation creeping into your voice. “Yunho and Yeosang are here too! We’re getting you out—”

Then, movement.

A dark shadow cast itself against the dim lighting in the hallway. Someone was coming.

Your body stiffened, and instinct took over. You ran, pressing yourself against the wall behind a stack of crates just as the door creaked open.

A man stepped inside; his boots heavy against the concrete.

"I heard someone in here," he muttered.

You clenched your jaw, biting your lip to keep your breathing silent. Your hands trembled, fingers tightening around the crowbar. If he found you, you were dead, but you were going to fight back.

The man’s attention turned to Jongho. You watched in horror as he pulled a dagger from his pocket, its sharp blade gleaming under the dim light.

"Where are they?" he demanded, pressing the cold metal against Jongho’s throat.

Your breath caught in your throat. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Jongho, despite his battered state, didn’t flinch. He simply glared at the man, his jaw tightening as he leaned away from the blade rather than giving in.

He wasn’t going to sell you out.

But if you didn’t act fast, you were about to watch him die.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, every instinct screaming at you to move. You had seconds—maybe less—to make a decision.

Stay hidden and hope for a chance to escape? Or take the risk and fight?

Your heart pounded in your chest as the man’s gaze swept across the room, searching for you. Think fast, move faster.

You stayed low, silently maneuvering behind Jongho’s chair, using the dim lighting to your advantage. With careful steps, you crept toward the other side of the room, positioning yourself directly behind the man.

He was still searching—still unaware.

This was your chance.

Gripping the crowbar so tightly that your knuckles turned white, you swung with every ounce of strength in your body.

CRACK!

The metal struck the side of his head with a sickening thud. The impact sent him crashing to the ground, his body limp as he groaned in pain, barely conscious.

Adrenaline surged through you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you rushed forward, slamming the door shut and locking it from the inside.

Your chest heaved as you turned back toward Jongho, rushing to his side, your hands working quickly to free him from the restraints.

“I told you to leave!” Jongho snapped, his voice raw with anger.

You glared at him, your hands still fumbling with the knots. “And I told you I’m not leaving you to die!” you shot back, your voice just as fierce.

Jongho’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t argue this time. He just exhaled sharply, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re insane,” he muttered under his breath.

You scoffed, yanking the last knot loose. “And you’re welcome.”

As soon as the restraints fell away, Jongho groaned, rolling his stiff shoulders before slowly standing. He was still weak, still bruised and had deep cuts on his arms, but his presence was just as commanding as ever.

But before either of you could say another word—

A loud banging echoed against the door.

More were coming.

You looked at Jongho, hissing at him. “We have to go—now.”

You grabbed Jongho’s arm, ignoring his grunts of protest, and ran. The sound of frantic footsteps and muffled curses echoed behind you, but you didn’t stop. Your only focus was getting out alive.

Ducking back into the darkened part of the warehouse, you dragged Jongho toward the same hiding spot you had used earlier. You both pressed yourselves against the crates, your breath shallow, adrenaline still pumping through your veins.

Then, movement from the other side of the hallway caught your eye.

Yunho and Yeosang.

Your stomach flipped as you saw them armed guns drawn, daggers glinting under the dim lighting. They were ready to kill.

“Y/N?!”

Yunho’s furious voice rang out the second he spotted you. His eyes were wide, filled with a mix of disbelief and rage.

Shit.

You barely had time to react before Yeosang shoved him against the wall, slamming a hand over his mouth.

“Shut up,” Yeosang hissed under his breath, his sharp eyes scanning the area. “They’ll hear us.”

Yunho’s glare could’ve burned a hole through the wall, but he listened, jaw clenched as he yanked Yeosang’s hand away.

Your heart pounded as you peered over the crates. More men were storming the hallway, searching, their weapons drawn. They knew someone was here.

Jongho exhaled shakily beside you, his body still weak, but his mind sharp. “We need to move now,” he murmured under his breath. “If they find us, we’re dead.”

You nodded, glancing back at Yunho and Yeosang. Yeosang gave a quick, silent signal—on my count.

One… two…

Three.

Your heart pounded as you ran, every muscle in your body screaming for you to move faster. The dimly lit warehouse echoed with distant shouts—they knew you were here.

Yeosang and Yunho were right behind you, covering your backs as you and Jongho pushed forward. Every second counted.

Then—a door.

Your eyes locked onto the heavy metal exit leading outside. Wasting no time, you jammed the crowbar against the handle, trying to pry it open. The rusted metal groaned under the pressure, but it wasn’t budging fast enough.

"Move," Yunho grunted, stepping beside you. Together, you slammed the crowbar into the door, forcing it open with sheer strength.

The second the door gave way, the cold morning air hit your face like a shock to the system.

"Go!" Yeosang ordered.

You didn’t hesitate. You grabbed Jongho’s arm again, dragging him forward as you all sprinted out of the building.

Gunfire erupted behind you, bullets ricocheting off the metal doors.

"Shit—GET IN THE CARS!" Yunho barked.

Jongho, still weak, stumbled slightly as you guided him toward your vehicle. Yunho and Yeosang split off, covering the retreat, their weapons raised.

Your hands trembled as you yanked the car door open, practically shoving Jongho into the passenger seat. His breathing was heavy, but he was alive.

You jumped into the driver’s seat, your fingers fumbling as you started the engine. Yunho and Yeosang weren’t far behind, diving into their own car as more men spilled out of the warehouse, weapons drawn.

Tires screeched against the pavement as you floored the gas, speeding off into the rising morning sun.

Your pulse was still racing, adrenaline making your hands unsteady on the wheel. You risked a glance at Jongho. He was slumped against the seat, eyes half-lidded, exhausted but watching you.

"You really don’t listen, do you?" he muttered, voice hoarse.

You let out a shaky breath, gripping the wheel tighter. "And you should know by now, Jongho," you said, your voice steady, "I don’t leave people behind."

"You’re badly injured," you murmured, keeping your focus on the road as you drove back toward the club. The rising sun barely lit the empty streets, but the tension in the car was suffocating enough to make you forget the time of day.

Jongho let out a dry chuckle, rolling his eyes despite the pain written all over his face. "Shit, really? Hadn’t noticed." His voice was hoarse, laced with sarcasm, but even that couldn’t hide how weak he sounded.

You sighed, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Seriously, Jongho. You’re in bad shape. I think we should take you to a hospital—"

“No.” His voice came sharp, snapping through the air like a whip.

You turned to look at him, surprised at the sudden shift in his tone. His jaw was clenched, eyes dark with something unreadable.

"I’m fine," he said again, more controlled this time, but just as firm. "No hospitals."

You swallowed hard, watching as he exhaled through his nose, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Jongho had always been stubborn—too strong-willed for his own good. But this wasn’t just stubbornness. It was fear.

You wanted to push him, to argue, but before you could say anything, you pulled up to the club.

Yunho and Yeosang were already outside, waiting. The moment you parked, Yunho yanked open the door, his eyes scanning Jongho’s condition.

"Fucking hell," Yunho muttered, looking between you and Jongho. "Took you long enough." Yeosang exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "He needs medical attention."

Jongho groaned, already tired of the conversation. "I said I’m fine." Yunho shot you a look, then back at Jongho. "Yeah? And what happens when you aren’t fine?" His tone was laced with frustration, but underneath that, there was something softer. Concern.

Jongho sighed, leaning his head back against the seat. "Just get me inside."

You bit down on your lip, glancing at Yunho and Yeosang before nodding. Whether he liked it or not, you were going to make sure Jongho got help. Even if it wasn’t a hospital, he wasn’t walking away from this without being taken care of.

"Well, at least let’s get inside and clean you up," you sighed, finally accepting that Jongho wasn’t going to a hospital—for now.

Jongho didn’t argue, which was rare. He was exhausted, his body weakened from whatever hell he had been through. His usual stubbornness wasn’t as sharp as before, and you took that as a silent sign that he was barely holding himself together.

You moved to his side, looping an arm around him to help him out of the car. He grumbled under his breath but didn’t push you away, leaning on you just enough to stay steady.

Yunho and Yeosang followed closely behind as you made your way into the club, making sure no one was watching as you led Jongho upstairs.

It was morning now, but thankfully, the club was empty. No customers, no distractions. And more importantly—you didn’t have to work tonight.

Small mercies.

When you finally reached Jongho’s room, you helped him ease down onto the bed, his body slumping against the mattress with a heavy sigh. His breathing was ragged, his knuckles bruised, his lip split. The fresh cuts and dried blood on his skin made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

You turned to Yunho and Yeosang, who stood in the doorway, tension still thick in the air. "I’ll clean him up," you said quietly, not wanting to fight any more about it.

Yunho held your gaze for a second, his jaw tightening before he exhaled through his nose. "Fine. I’ll go check in with Hongjoong before he burns the damn place down."

Yeosang nodded, already heading toward the door. "Let us know if he gets worse," he murmured before following Yunho out.

The door shut, leaving just you and Jongho in the dimly lit room.

You sighed, rolling up your sleeves. "Alright," you muttered, grabbing a first-aid kit from the nearby cabinet. "Let’s clean you up before you actually pass out on me."

Jongho smirked faintly, though it barely reached his tired eyes. "You really don’t know how to leave things alone, do you?"

You scoffed, wetting a cloth with warm water before sitting beside him. "And you don’t know how to stop getting yourself into trouble."

He huffed out a quiet laugh, wincing as you gently dabbed the cloth against a fresh cut on his temple. His smirk faded slightly, and for the first time since getting him out, his guard lowered just a little.

"…Thanks for coming for me," he muttered under his breath.

Your hands stilled for a brief moment before you resumed your careful movements.

"Always," you whispered, not needing to say anything more. After finishing up with Jongho’s bandages, you quietly left his room to grab more gauze and supplies from your own. The exhaustion was finally settling in, your body aching from everything that had happened.

But as you stepped back into the hallway, voices caught your attention. You stilled, pressing yourself against the wall just out of sight, listening closely.

"We need to block this place up, and I need you and Mingi to keep anyone from coming in these next few days." Seonghwa’s voice was firm, calculated, the way it always was when things were serious.

"Alrighty," San responded casually, but there was an edge to his tone. Even he knew this wasn’t just another order—it was lockdown mode.

You peeked around the corner just enough to see San nod before walking off to find Mingi. They were going to be stationed downstairs, guarding the entrance. Your stomach twisted.

What exactly were they preparing for?

You sighed, shaking your head before heading back into Jongho’s room. He was still lying in bed, his breathing slow and heavy. His body was completely still now, his exhaustion finally taking over.

You walked up beside him, brushing your fingers lightly over his arm, checking to make sure his wounds were wrapped properly. He stirred slightly at the touch but didn’t wake up.

A soft smile tugged at your lips. Despite all the chaos, despite everything that had happened—he was safe. Leaning in slightly, you whispered, “Good night, Jongho.”

He didn’t respond, already slipping into unconsciousness, but that was okay. He needed the rest. You turned, stepping out of the room as quietly as possible before making your way back to your own. The second you laid down; sleep took you instantly.

Whatever was coming next, you would deal with it tomorrow.

The dim lighting in the room cast a soft glow over Jongho’s sleeping form as you quietly stepped inside. The weight of exhaustion still lingered in your body, but checking up on him felt more important than resting.

You approached his bedside, your gaze falling to his bandaged arms and bruised face. He looked better than before, but the sight of him still made your heart clench.

Carefully, you reached out and placed your hand over his, your fingers barely brushing against his skin. His warmth was reassuring, a silent confirmation that he was still here—still breathing. Then, a quiet sigh.

You froze as Jongho stirred, his chest rising and falling with a deep inhale before his eyes slowly blinked open.

For a moment, he looked dazed, his mind still caught between sleep and reality. Then, his gaze locked onto you, dark eyes staring directly into yours. You weren’t sure what to say. You had no reason to be here, not really. But instead of pulling away, you gave his hand the faintest squeeze. "You're awake..." you murmured softly.

Jongho exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. His fingers twitched slightly beneath yours, but he didn’t move away. He just kept looking at you, his tired gaze filled with something unspoken.

"Yeah," he finally muttered, his voice raspy from sleep. "I guess I am." Silence stretched between you both, heavy but not uncomfortable.

There was something about this moment—the quiet, the stillness—that felt different. A rare vulnerability that neither of you acknowledged but both understood.

And for once, Jongho didn’t fight it.

Neither did you.

Jongho’s tired eyes flickered to you as you sat beside him on the bed. “Would you like anything? Water? Food?” you asked, your voice soft with concern.

He blinked slowly, looking around the room as if debating his answer before shaking his head. “No. I’m fine.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. Typical Jongho. Stubborn as ever.

“Well, I’m hungry, so I’m getting food,” you huffed, standing up. He didn’t argue, simply watching you as you left the room.

Making your way downstairs, you expected the club to be buzzing with energy, but instead, it was eerily quiet. No music, no loud conversations. Just the distant hum of the city outside.

You stepped into the kitchen and immediately spotted Yunho sitting alone at the table, a cold stare fixated on something unseen. His fingers tapped idly against the surface, lost in thought.

You hesitated for a moment before grabbing some leftovers from the fridge. Maybe he needed company.

“I’ll join you, if you don’t mind…” you said casually, sitting next to him as you placed your food down.

Yunho’s eyes slowly shifted to you, observing for a second before he nodded slightly. He didn’t say anything at first, simply watching as you took a bite of your food.

After a beat of silence, he exhaled, leaning back in his chair. “Checking up on Jongho?” he asked, his tone unreadable. You nodded. “Yeah. He woke up. Stubborn as always, but at least he’s awake.”

Yunho scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “That bastard would rather bleed out than admit he needs help.” You smirked. “Sounds familiar.”

Yunho shot you a look but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. His expression was more serious now, as if debating something.

“I don’t like this,” he muttered. “This whole situation with Jongho… something’s off.” You paused mid-bite, setting your fork down. “What do you mean?”

Yunho’s jaw tensed. “The way they took him. It wasn’t just about revenge. They needed something from him. And now that we got him back… I don’t think we’re in the clear yet.”

A chill ran down your spine. You hadn’t thought about that. You had been so focused on getting Jongho back that you hadn’t questioned why they took him in the first place. Yunho’s eyes met yours, dark and serious. “I think they got what they wanted.”

Yunho’s words hung heavy in the air, but before you could respond, you took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts.

"I overheard something when I was spying on them," you admitted, your fingers idly pushing the food around on your plate. "They wanted to exchange the guy you killed that night… for Jongho’s life in return."

Yunho’s posture stiffened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

You swallowed hard. "I assume they think Jongho was the one who killed the guy since he was last seen with him. Before… before you must have found him and killed him yourself."

The weight of it all settled onto your shoulders, making your stomach churn. The pieces were coming together, but the truth was worse than you imagined.

Jongho had been taken as a scapegoat.

Because of Yunho.

A heavy silence filled the kitchen. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, your hands tightening into fists in your lap.

Then, after a long pause, you heard it—

"I’m sorry."

Your breath hitched, your eyes widening as you flickered your gaze up to him.

Yunho sighed, running a hand down his face before leaning back in his chair, looking exhausted. "I mean it," he muttered. "Jongho got caught up in my mess. And you… you almost got killed trying to fix it."

You stared at him, still processing the fact that Yunho—Yunho—was actually apologizing to you. The man who never admitted fault, who always brushed things off like they didn’t matter.

For the first time, he looked like he regretted something.

A part of you wanted to be mad at him. A part of you wanted to tell him that he was reckless, that Jongho didn’t deserve this, that you didn’t deserve to be dragged into it.

But instead, you just exhaled softly, shaking your head.

"I just… I don’t want anyone else getting hurt," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Yunho nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. But there was something different in his eyes. Something softer.

"We’ll make sure of that," he said firmly. "No matter what. But I want you to stay out of it. Me and Jongho can afford to lose you." He coughs trying to go back to his tough mean old self.

You hesitated for a moment before speaking, your voice softer now, laced with curiosity and something deeper concern.

“What… what made you choose this lifestyle?” you asked, your eyes drifting down to his hands. They were scarred, roughened by years of fighting, of survival. You had never seen Yunho like this before—his usual cold and cocky demeanor stripped away, leaving something much softer underneath. Something real.

Yunho tensed slightly, his fingers twitching against the table as he leaned back in his chair.

"What do you mean…?" he muttered, attempting to play dumb, but you saw right through it.

You sighed, shaking your head. "You seem like someone who was forced into this. Like… this wasn’t always who you were." Your voice was quieter now, careful. "What were you like in the past? Were you always like this?"

Yunho didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his jaw tightened, and for the first time, he looked almost… uncomfortable.

You studied his face, searching for a reaction, and there it was—the flicker of something in his eyes. Something he was trying to hide. You leaned in slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t think you were."

Yunho’s tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, exhaling through his nose as he looked away. His fingers drummed against the table, a rare moment of hesitation from him.

"You ask too many damn questions," he muttered, but his tone lacked its usual sharpness. It wasn’t an insult. It was deflection. You stayed silent, waiting.

Yunho’s silence lingered as you pushed back your chair with a little too much force.

“Fine. If you won’t tell me, I’ll leave you alone,” you huffed, your voice clipped with frustration.

You grabbed your plate, barely finishing your food, and tossed it in the garbage with a dull thud. Without another glance at Yunho, you turned and walked away, leaving him at the table, lost in his own thoughts. You didn’t have the energy to press him further. Not now. Instead, you found yourself gravitating back toward Jongho’s room.

When you entered, Jongho was already awake, now sitting up against the headboard. His sharp gaze immediately landed on you as you walked in, scanning your face like he could sense the tension you carried.

You exhaled, pushing aside your emotions as you lifted a glass of water toward him. “I got you water, just in case…”

Jongho’s eyes flickered from you to the glass before you walked closer and set it down on the nightstand beside him. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His expression was unreadable, but you could feel the weight of his stare. Then, finally, he spoke. His voice was still hoarse, but steadier than before.

“You’re upset.” You blinked, looking up at him. “What?”

Jongho tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. “Something happened.” You let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “It’s nothing.”

Jongho didn’t look convinced. “It’s not nothing.” You sighed, rubbing your temple. The last thing you wanted was to get into another conversation about Yunho, but Jongho was perceptive. He always had been.

“I just… I don’t get him,” you muttered. “I don’t get why he refuses to talk about his past. Why he pushes everyone away.”

Jongho studied you carefully before exhaling. “Because sometimes, talking about the past doesn’t change anything.” His words were blunt but held a weight that made you pause. You swallowed, glancing down at your hands. “I just… I want to understand him.”

Jongho was silent for a moment, then leaned back against the headboard with a small, tired smirk.

“Then you’ve already made a mistake,” he muttered. You furrowed your brows. “What?” Jongho’s gaze darkened slightly. “You’re trying to understand someone who doesn’t want to be understood.”

The room fell silent again. You weren’t sure what unsettled you more—the fact that Jongho was right, or the fact that he had said it, as if he knew exactly what it felt like to be Yunho.

You tilted your head slightly, studying Jongho’s reaction. “What about you?” you asked, your voice quieter now, laced with curiosity. Jongho visibly tensed, his usual confidence faltering for just a second before he looked down, as if debating his answer. He let out a slow breath, avoiding your gaze.

“Maybe another time…” he muttered, his voice softer than usual. “One day, maybe.” You caught the way his fingers twitched slightly, the subtle hint of guilt in his tone.

You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to get anything more out of him tonight. “Fine…” you muttered, rolling your eyes, though there was no real frustration behind it. Jongho exhaled, almost as if relieved, but then—he did something unexpected.

His hand, rough yet warm, rested gently on top of yours. The weight of it, the gesture itself, caught you off guard. You slowly looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyes were darker now, but softer at the same time. There was something else there—something unspoken.

Before you could think too much about it, you felt his grip tighten, and in one swift motion, you were pulled onto his lap.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as your hands instinctively found his shoulders, steadying yourself. His hands rested at your waist, firm but gentle, as he looked up at you from beneath his lashes. Neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick, charged with something you had ignored for far too long.

Slowly, your gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips, your body moving before your mind could catch up.

Jongho didn’t stop you. He didn’t hesitate.

As you leaned in, his fingers curled slightly against your waist, pulling you closer. Your lips met his in a slow, careful kiss—one that started hesitant but deepened almost instantly.

He exhaled against your mouth, his grip on you tightening as if grounding himself in the moment. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate.

It was something else entirely.

The warmth of Jongho’s body against yours sent a shiver down your spine, a heat pooling deep within you that you couldn’t quite explain. The moment felt intense—too intense. That’s why you pulled away, needing a second to process what had just happened.

Jongho’s dark eyes locked onto yours, his breath still warm against your lips. His gaze was unreadable, but there was something in it—curiosity, amusement… something dangerous.

“Why did you pull back?” he teased, the corner of his lips tilting up slightly. You swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous. You weren’t sure why that kiss felt different. It wasn’t just physical—it had weight to it.

“Uhmm… Well…” You tried to form an excuse, but the words caught in your throat. You had nothing.

Jongho hummed, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly before he leaned in again. “Don’t think so hard,” he muttered. And before you could say another word, he pulled you back into the kiss. This time, there was no hesitation.

His lips pressed against yours with more intent, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you flush against him. You let out a soft hum, melting into him as your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair.

Jongho deepened the kiss, his control firm but not overwhelming, as if testing how far you were willing to go. It was slower this time—intentional, as if he wanted you to feel every second of it.

You did.

You felt everything. The way his hands held you, the heat of his skin, the way his lips molded perfectly against yours. And for the first time, you didn’t stop.

The sudden knock on the door sent a shock through both of you.

You and Jongho scrambled apart—Jongho adjusting himself back in bed while you practically leaped into the chair across the room, trying desperately to look like nothing had just happened.

“Come in!” Jongho called out, clearing his throat to hide the slight breathlessness in his voice.

Your face was burning, and you mentally cursed yourself, trying to erase the thoughts lingering in your mind. The way he held you, the heat of his lips, the way his hands—No! Focus!

The door creaked open, and the moment you saw who it was, your stomach dropped.

Hongjoong.

His sharp eyes immediately scanned the room, and it didn’t take him long to notice—the slightly disheveled look on Jongho’s face, your obvious redness, the air still thick with unspoken tension.

Hongjoong knew.

You stiffened in your chair, avoiding direct eye contact, but Hongjoong wasn’t stupid. His gaze lingered for just a second too long before he cleared his throat, stepping further inside.

“I’m just coming to check on you,” Hongjoong said casually, though the hint of amusement in his voice wasn’t lost on you. Jongho, always one to keep his cool, nodded. “I’m fine,” he muttered, shifting under Hongjoong’s sharp gaze.

Hongjoong glanced between the two of you again, his lips twitching slightly like he knew he had just walked in on something.

“You sure?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Because it looks like I might’ve interrupted something.”

Your soul nearly left your body.

Jongho scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “You think too much,” he muttered, brushing off the insinuation. You, on the other hand, were trying your absolute hardest not to combust on the spot.

Hongjoong hummed, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and exhaled. “Well, just wanted to see if you’re alive. You need anything?” Jongho shook his head. “No. I’m good.” Hongjoong nodded, lingering for just a second more before he turned to leave.

Just before stepping out, he threw a glance over his shoulder—this time, at you.

“Don’t stay too long,” he murmured, his tone unreadable. Then, with a final smirk, he walked out, shutting the door behind him. The moment he was gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Jongho sighed, leaning his head back against the bed. “That was too close.”

You buried your face in your hands, still burning from embarrassment. “He knows,” you groaned. Jongho chuckled under his breath, glancing at you with that familiar, teasing glint in his eyes. “Yeah,” he muttered, smirking slightly. “But I don’t think he cares.”

You swallowed hard, your heart still pounding.

Maybe Hongjoong didn’t care—but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t watch.

You hesitated, still flustered from Hongjoong’s unexpected interruption. The heat on your face hadn’t faded, and the air still felt charged from what had just happened between you and Jongho.

"I should probably go..." you muttered, voice barely above a whisper, your embarrassment creeping in as you avoided his gaze.

You turned, ready to make your escape, but before you could even take a step, Jongho grabbed you by the wrist. In one swift motion, he pulled you right back onto his lap, his grip firm, his body warm against yours. Your breath hitched as you found yourself straddling him again, your hands instinctively landing on his shoulders for balance.

"You can't just make out with me and then leave," Jongho murmured, his voice rough, teasing, yet undeniably serious. His dark eyes locked onto yours, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. "You gotta fix this mess you made." You swallowed hard, the tension thick, his words making your heart pound.

"Fine…" you exhaled, knowing damn well you didn’t actually want to leave. Without another word, you leaned in, crashing your lips against his. Jongho groaned softly against your mouth, his hands immediately sliding up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

The kiss was desperate, heated, as if making up for the lost time that neither of you would admit to wanting back. You could feel the urgency in the way he kissed you—like he had been waiting for this.

You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, panting slightly as you smirked. "I thought I was the desperate one," you teased, your lips brushing against his.

Jongho chuckled lowly, shaking his head before tilting your chin back up, his gaze dark and unrelenting. "Shut up," he muttered, before pulling you right back into another intense, heated kiss.

And this time, neither of you were holding back.

He pulled your shirt over your head throwing it on the floor. You immediately took your bra off. Jongho started undressing himself and he immediately started caressing your body. Your body shivered against his touch as you hummed out softly enjoying yourself.

Jongho hovered above you, his presence overwhelming, his body caging you against the bed. His usual cold and unreadable expression had faded, replaced by something more intense—something that made your breath hitch.

But despite the heat in the moment, concern flickered through you. He was still injured.

“Aren’t you hurt?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “Do you want me to do the work?” Jongho’s smirk deepened, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “I think I can handle it,” he murmured, his voice low and confident.

You exhaled softly, your fingers instinctively moving to his shoulders, your touch gentle against his tense muscles. “Alright,” you hummed, deciding to trust him.

The air between you was thick, charged with unspoken emotions neither of you had fully processed. This wasn’t just about the tension that had been building for weeks—this was something more.

Jongho’s gaze softened slightly as he studied your face. His hands, despite their strength, moved carefully, tracing your arm before settling against your waist.

For a brief moment, he paused, his forehead resting lightly against yours. His breathing was heavy, yet controlled, as if he was grounding himself in the moment.

“Are you sure about this?” he murmured. It was the first time you had heard him ask something so sincerely. You swallowed, meeting his gaze, and for once, there was no teasing, no playful banter—just the raw honesty of the moment. You nodded. “Yeah.”

Jongho exhaled, closing his eyes for a second before leaning in again, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against your lips. This time, it wasn’t just about urgency—it was about something deeper.

Jongho slid himself in between your folds, pushing himself deep as he could. You let out a loud shaky moan digging your nails into his shoulders already. He groaned at the feeling.

You felt your insides pulse as you tried adjusting to him finally letting him go ahead to start thrusting in and out.

"Jongho..." You moan immediately covering your mouth with one hand. Your other hand gripped onto his shoulders trying to hold onto him. You felt his hands grabbing you by the waist as he continued to move.

You moaned out arching your back as he thrusted in deeper and got rougher.

"I thought u were in pain..." You tried to speak but were out of breath. Jongho smirked at you leaned down towards you.

"Not really, you are really good at distraction." He smiles kissing your lips. You moan into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Fuck..." He cursed pulling his lips away. You felt his grip get tighter around you. Throwing your head to the side, you moaned heavily, already feeling the exhaustion settling into your body.

The night had been long, emotions running high, and yet—you couldn’t stop yourself.

Your hands instinctively moved, fingers trailing up Jongho’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your touch. The warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart—it grounded you.

Your fingertips traced the line of his collarbone before sliding up to his neck, your touch softer now, more deliberate. When your palms cupped his face, Jongho’s breath hitched slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

Jongho kept thrusting in and out of you, instead of being sloppy like usual he was slow and doing this out of pure love and passion. Or so you thought.

You felt his shaft graze your sensitive spot causing your moans to get higher. He took the advantage he was given and kept thrusting into that one spot causing your eyes to roll back and you tried to keep them close as you dug your nails deep into his skin.

"Jongho!" You moaned in pure bliss almost screaming his name. You watched him as he thrusted in last few times before releasing inside you. You started breathing heavily as your both released together.

Your body felt completely drained, exhaustion creeping into your limbs as you let out a soft whimper.

Before you could even process it, Jongho shifted underneath you, gripping your waist and flipping you so that you landed against his chest.

A low groan of pain escaped him, his body still sore from his injuries. Your eyes widened in panic. "Oh my god! I’m so sorry!" You immediately sat up, hands hovering over him, worried you had hurt him even more.

Jongho exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "No, it’s fine… Just—" he let out another small groan, shifting his legs beneath you, adjusting himself. "I just want to sleep with you tonight."

His words made your breath hitch, but not in the way they usually did. This wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t flirtation. It was genuine.

You swallowed hard, nodding softly before allowing yourself to settle back down against him. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you closer, securing you against his warmth. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

Jongho’s heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, his warmth spreading through you like a protective barrier against everything that had happened.

You let your eyes flutter shut, feeling his fingers trace slow circles against your back. The tension from the night melted away as the comfort of his embrace consumed you. And before you knew it, wrapped in each other’s arms, you finally slept.

•

I didn't mean for it to be that long and by the time I was ready to write smut, it got too long. LMAO. The smut was very rushed I am extremely sorry.

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[leiawritesstories]

PART TWELVE: DECEMBER

Word count: ~8.5k

Warnings: swearing, violence, references to d3@th, vivid nightmares, ANGST!!!, weapons, and finally some well-deserved fluff hehe

A/N: Oh my goodness, we're almost at the end!! (yes, that almost will matter hehe). This is the biggest project I've taken on with fanfic so far, and it's been a true joy and a delight to share our favorite ruthless crime boss and our favorite fearless investigator with you all! there will be an epilogue hopefully soon, as long as my class/life schedule allows, and then...well. We'll see what happens then ;)

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Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crouched in the frosty cover of the trees that skirted the edge of her river warehouse’s property, Aelin watched the screen on her forearm with unnerving dispassion, her eyes locked onto every tense coil of Rowan’s achingly familiar body. She’d found him the second he broke through the scrubby underbrush across the lot, her gaze tracking him as he tracked Maeve all the way into the warehouse. 

She watched, oddly detached, as Maeve shot Remelle in the back of the head and both Rowan and Connall emptied their entire clips of ammunition into Maeve in eerie synchrony. 

She watched, oddly detached, as Rowan broke out of his shock enough to drag Maeve’s limp, gunshot-riddled body out of the warehouse and get it onto a waiting tarp. She kept watching as Maeve’s not-quite-so-dead-after-all arm twitched, as a blade glinted coldly in the light pouring out of the warehouse’s open door, as that blade launched itself towards Rowan’s exposed throat in a deadly blur.

She lifted her hollow gaze up across the lot and watched shock wash over Rowan’s face, watched his instincts take over and fire another round into Maeve, watched the blood spill beyond the edges of the tarp, watched his body slowly, jerkily collapse onto the cold pavement. 

She remembered she could move. 

Aelin exploded out of the trees, sprinting across the lot with near-inhuman speed, and skidded to a graceless stop beside the man whose soul was still entwined with hers. Breath sputtered out of his ruined throat, and his beautiful eyes blinked once, twice, three times, recognizing her. “ Don’t ,” she choked out, fingers delicately sifting through his hair. “You can’t leave me, Rowan.” A lump the size of the Great Ocean clogged her throat. “I love you.” 

His breath released in a tormented wheeze, unspoken words churning in his fading eyes. I love you. Fireheart . 

His eyes fluttered shut. 

And Aelin’s eyes tore open in the sudden silence and sprinted around the shadowed corners of her bedroom, their pace matching the thundering skip of her heartbeat. She lifted a shaking hand to her heart, finding her skin clammy with icy sweat, and counted her breaths as her terror slowly began to fade. 

It was only a dream, Galathynius . 

Steady enough to trust her movements, she reached over and flicked on her bedside lamp, illuminating the bedroom in a soft orange glow. The clock beside the lamp read 03:30—a terrible hour to wake from such a vivid nightmare. 

Tentatively, Aelin pushed back the blankets and slid out of bed. She picked up the top throw blanket, wrapped it around her shoulders, and stepped into her slippers. She flipped on an electric candle, cradled it in her hands, crossed the bedroom, and pushed open the door to the second-floor wraparound porch, a feature her parents had specially designed when they built this house. 

Tucked into the edge of the Oakwald Forest just past the park where she had dreamed as a child, Aelin’s family’s private home had long gone unused, serving more as secondary storage for family heirlooms and extra furniture than anything else. Near the end of the summer, Aelin had quietly asked Aedion to check on the house, so that when she came to it five days ago, it was ready for her. 

Aelin had loved this house as a child, entranced by its placement within the Oakwald. Lush tall pines rose into the sky around the house, almost as if they deliberately enfolded it in their shaggy branches. From the second-floor porch, though, she still had a clear view of the stars, and it was to the stars that she looked as she stood there in the cold December night. 

The Lord of the North glowed down at her, and she traced his stars with her eyes until her racing pulse slowed down to normal. 

It was just a dream , she repeated to herself. He’s alive. He’s safe. She’d confirmed it herself. 

After leaving Rowan—an act that her very soul protested—that night at the ruins of her warehouse, Aelin slipped back into the trees and watched as Rowan stared blankly in shock, shook himself, and climbed into his truck. She watched the tiny red dot on her screen as it wound through Orynth, the tracker she’d hidden on Rowan’s pickup feeding her his location. She watched him drive back to TSF headquarters and stop there. 

Then, she sheathed her knives, walked up the alley to another nondescript car, climbed in, and drove away towards the Oakwald. Her family home had become her refuge, and she wasn’t yet willing to give up this brief snatch of quiet. 

But eventually, she knew the time would come. 

Blinking back to the present moment, Aelin stared up into the stars, tracing the familiar constellations until her pulse slowed to normal and the icy winter breeze curling in from the forest nudged her back into the welcoming warmth of her bed. 

~

Not even three miles away—though he had no idea—Rowan jerked frantically awake, dripping with cold sweat, his mind and heart and eyes blurry with terrified confusion. Hands stumbling in the dark, he finally located his lamp and flicked it on, casting his own bedroom in a pool of soft warm light, a jarring but necessary contrast to the stark floodlights that blazed in his vivid, horrifying dream. 

Maeve fired, and the bullet buried itself in the skull of the woman standing on the mezzanine. Rowan couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t control the speed with which he emptied a full round into Maeve from his position crouched behind a stack of crates. The Queen of the Night jerked forwards and crumpled to the floor, and Rowan moved on autopilot, pure muscle memory driving him across the floor and up the steel steps and over to the limp body of the woman who’d stood up there. 

A hollow click echoed in his mind, and he felt his TSF training take over as he turned over the woman’s body and gently—so, so gently—closed her empty turquoise eyes. 

Still moving on autopilot, he lifted her body into his arms and walked back down the stairs and out of the warehouse. Someone had laid tarps out on the cement, and he knelt down and laid the woman’s body onto the cold blue plastic. Bowed over her figure, he carefully folded her arms over her chest, and as he began to lift his head, a gunshot cracked behind him, and blazing pain erupted in his shoulder. 

The last thing he saw as his consciousness began to fade was the warehouse exploding into blue-white flame—unnatural flame, impossibly hot. 

And the last thing he heard was a reedy feminine whisper in his ear. “You’ll never have her, Whitethorn. Never.”

His eyes sprang open, and he forced himself into consciousness. The light from his lamp and the sudden burst of cold from how he’d shoved his blankets away from his body shocked him into the beginnings of sanity, and he raked his fingers through his hair as he willed his mind to stop playing such sick fucking tricks on him. After a good three minutes, he pushed himself out of bed and went downstairs, haphazardly flipping on lights as he went. 

Rowan opened the sliding door in his living room and stepped out onto his back porch, and he tipped back his head and stared up into the clear night sky. Never asleep, his military instincts dragged his gaze across the trees that bordered his property, the beginnings of the edge of the Oakwald Forest. Nothing ruffled their branches, and he steadily calmed as his gaze wandered across the snow-dusted grass and the shadowed path of his long driveway. Eventually, his eyes drifted back up to the sky, and despite himself, he unconsciously searched out the path of stars that formed the Lord of the North. 

Aelin’s favorite constellation. 

Gods , he wanted to see her. No matter the storm of emotions whirling in his heart and soul, no matter the betrayal that soured the back of his throat, no matter the clinically insane amount of questions he had for her, he wanted to see her. Needed to see her, if only to confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating that night at the warehouse. 

Because that was her voice in his ear, her knives against his body. 

And he’d be fucking damned if he didn’t face Aelin Galathynius one more time. Even if that one time was to put her back behind bars. 

~

“Are you seeing this?” Gavriel almost sounded incredulous. Like every other person in the room, his attention was fixed onto the projection screen, where every major news outlet was following a massive protest that was currently occupying the plaza in front of the courthouse. 

“Who isn’t seeing this, sir?” Lorcan returned, dryly. His gaze darted between the wall-sized screen and his phone, and while Rowan couldn’t quite tell from his angle, he was dead certain that Lorcan was texting someone. 

Rowan tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “This has been going on for close to a week, sir.” And the protestors had only grown more vocal. 

Free Galathynius!  

Their refrain echoed down every major news outlet, radio station, and far too much of social media. Ever since Aelin had given that press conference after her trial, bits and pieces of her statements had been circulating the internet. People alternated between admiration of her unflinching willingness to tell the truth and shocked horror at the gruesomeness of her crimes. A little over a week ago, though, an anonymous and frustratingly untraceable source had posted a three-minute video of footage from a prior interview with Aelin. 

And the internet had fucking exploded. 

In that segment, Aelin discussed the method behind her madness. With a half-self-deprecating, half-wry smile tilting her lips, she answered the rapid-fire barrage of questions flung at her with graceful aplomb and her usual undertone of sarcasm. Why did you kill them? Each victim was nothing less than the scum of the earth, rotten criminals who were far better off dead than continuing to plague the world. Why did you keep Celaena’s identity? It suited her purposes—as Aelin Galathynius, she ran the company that kept so many people in respectable jobs, and as Celaena, she roamed the deserted back alleys of Orynth’s underbelly, making sure that no one worse than her remained alive to terrorize innocent people. 

On the screen, she paused for a moment, mulling over one of the questions, then shook her head with a dry little huff. “If you take anything away from this statement, let it be this: I have always acted and will always act to protect Orynth. I suppose I tried to play one too many roles—CEO, criminal, judge, jury, and executioner.” She chuckled. “I only regret that I took the criminal’s path instead of the vigilante’s, since that one seems to be much more acceptable.” Her eyes flicked sideways, and she took a step away from the podium, ending the press conference but raising another clamor of questions. 

Gav closed that video and switched to the next tab, a live news report in downtown Orynth. The reporter on scene stood at the edge of the Old Palace Square, chattering on about the protests that had only grown larger with every passing day. 

A raised voice cut through the chaos, its refrain breaking through the indistinguishable sounds of the reporters and the crowds. “Free Galathynius!” For a moment, stunned silence rippled across the square, but the protestors rapidly picked up the chant, hands and signs raised in defiance. 

“Free Galathynius!”

“Free Galathynius!” 

Free Galathynius!

Rowan clamped his lips together, spun on his worn bootheel, and left the briefing room. So many people were crowded into the space that his exit was unremarkable, and he used the brief snatch of silence to steal up the halls to his small office. He pushed open the door and didn’t bother flipping on the light as he crossed the tight space in two and a half steps and collapsed into his desk chair, scowling at the way the damn thing’s ancient springs jabbed him in the back through the frayed old cushion. 

Almost despite himself, his hand stole towards the inner pocket of his shirt, where a single folded sheet of paper was tucked in beside his heart, shielded behind layers of fabric and Kevlar. He carefully slid the paper out of its pocket, unfolded it, and pressed it down flat onto his dented steel desktop, letting his eyes skim the all-too-familiar lines of elegant script, clinging to the only physical shred of Aelin that he couldn’t let himself burn. 

Before she went to Endovier, she had written him a letter. It had just appeared on his desk the morning of her incarceration, probably left there by Gav, and he had long since memorized the words but stubbornly refused to discard the page. Even after weeks etched into his heart, the words still pricked at the tender edges of the wound he’d too hastily sealed up. 

The woman owned him so completely, even now. 

Rowan’s shoulders slumped as he read Aelin’s words for the millionth time. The tension that had coiled tight in his body seeped slowly out of him the longer he sat in the dim shadows of his tiny office, removed from the noise and the chaos and the visuals of the criminal mastermind who’d stolen his heart and never given it back. 

“I will find you,” he murmured, summoning up every drop of resolve he could visualize. “I will find you, Fireheart, and I can fucking promise you it won’t be the end.” 

“Well, that’s the most confusing love confession I’ve ever heard, but do carry on.” Smooth as silk and lethal as iocane powder, the voice coiled around Rowan’s unsteady heart and tugged his shell-shocked gaze up and across the cold steel of his desk to slam into an amused turquoise smirk. 

His other hand had his spare gun aimed between her eyes before he recognized what he was doing. “Stay where you are.” 

Aelin sighed, kicked the office door shut, and leaned on the bookshelf. “Go ahead, Ro. Fire it.” 

“I—” His finger trembled on the trigger. “No.” Even so, he kept it aimed at her. 

In a dizzying blur, she swatted the gun out of his hand and pinned both of his arms to the desk, a blade he definitely hadn’t seen her draw hovering a hair’s breadth away from his wrist veins. “You should know that I took the liberty of unloading it.” She leaned in close enough for her breath to graze the shell of his ear. “But it’s good to know that you’d still rather see me in prison than anywhere useful.” 

Before he could think of a reply—before he could even begin to process her words—she flicked her knife away, palmed something else off of his desk, and slipped out the door. 

Abruptly regaining control of his body, Rowan burst out of his seat and followed her out into the hall. And stopped short, because there was no goddamn sign of her anywhere. And he’d bet good money that there wouldn’t be any camera evidence either. 

Fucking hell . 

~

Crouched on the rooftop of TSF headquarters, Aelin tapped the pocket over her ribs, feeling the small, slim piece of plastic she’d swiped off of Rowan’s desk tucked securely in there. She’d thought she would feel some kind of relief once she was in and out of the building, but instead, she was just confused. Seeing Rowan—stealing from Rowan—hadn’t been in her plans. 

Not yet. 

Her earpiece crackled. “You out of there yet, Boss?” 

Aelin shook herself. “Quit calling me that, Owens, and give me thirty seconds.” Uncurling from her crouch, she darted across the rooftop, swung herself across to the neighboring building, and dropped down the rungs of a fire escape into an alley. “Go for it.” 

“Good work.” On his end, Nox tapped a few buttons, and the security camera system of TSF headquarters switched seamlessly off of the loop it had been running. “At your location in four, three, two, one…” 

“Surprise,” she said dryly as she pulled open the side door of the electrical utility van Nox was driving and lifted herself inside. “Thanks, Owens.” 

He nodded. “Anytime.” 

Nox drove as far as southwestern Orynth before he pulled into a grocery store parking lot and let Aelin out, and she went over to the nondescript car she’d parked there earlier that day, got in, and drove a circuitous route back out to her house. She let out a long, soft sigh of relief when she turned into the long, winding driveway, not really relaxing until she was in the house with the doors locked and the alarm system activated. 

She tossed the… thing she’d “borrowed” from TSF headquarters onto her nightstand, went back downstairs, and turned on the news. Elide had told her that she and Nehemia would be officially announcing the changes at Gal Inc, including the company’s new name and branding and the purposes for SecondSkin, that evening. 

Elide’s calm, professional presence commanded the cameras’ attention. “In agreement with my leadership team, we have agreed to rebrand this company as Staghorn Development. We will continue to provide the same products we have been developing and offering, and we hope that all current and future customers will continue to be satisfied.” 

The reporter interviewing Elide nodded. “Ms. Lochan, Dr. Ytger, what about the technology that was revealed in October? What is your company planning to do with…that?” 

Elide and Nehemia exchanged a look. “Are you referring to SecondSkin?” Elide asked. 

“Yes.” 

“As was also revealed in October, we plan to release SecondSkin for medical use. In fact, we have arranged for the first batch of the completed product to be delivered to Orynth General Hospital next week,” Elide said. “Dr. Ytger, anything to add?” 

Nehemia leaned into her microphone. “This product cannot be made in large quantities at the moment, but we hope that with more extensive development and clinical use, it will become more readily accessible. SecondSkin will be used for good, never for nefarious purposes.” 

“That’s all. Thank you,” Elide added, covertly gesturing at the off-camera security detail to clear the path for her and Nehemia’s exit. 

Aelin turned off the screen, Nehemia’s clever words echoing in her mind. Used for good, never for nefarious purposes . It was both a veiled reference to the one part of Aelin’s criminal life that hadn’t come up at her trial and a hint at the fear she knew the scientist shared. There was always the possibility that someone would discover SecondSkin and try to use it for evil. 

But if Aelin had anything to say about it, they would only ever try once. 

~

Days after Aelin appeared in his office, Rowan was still reeling from the shock. 

As he’d suspected, there was no trace of her on any angle of the building’s camera footage, and after driving the security team up the wall with his requests, he found himself once again seated in Gav’s office, stewing in confusion, irritation, and a healthy dose of admiration for Aelin’s skill level. Gav was lounging in his chair, typing away at something on his computer, and staunchly ignoring Rowan. 

It had been almost two hours. 

Finally, Gav closed his laptop with a slight click and drilled a flat stare right between Rowan’s eyes. “Why the hell are you in my office again, Whitethorn?” 

Rowan had no control over the blush that crept up his throat. “Aelin was here, sir.” 

Gav blinked, but his flatly disappointed expression didn’t budge. “And…” 

“And I spent too much time bothering the security team with my attempts to examine the footage from that day,” Rowan admitted. “I suspected there wouldn’t be any evidence, and there wasn’t, and when I tried to look for a loop, they…” He coughed. “I suppose I overstepped, sir.” 

“What a surprise,” Gav intoned, his words oozing sarcasm. 

Rowan’s flush spread across his face. “I’m sorry, sir. It seems that I have very little control when it comes to Aelin.” 

“You act like I’m unaware of that, Whitethorn.” Gav crossed his arms across his chest. “Are you forgetting that you dated my niece for months with my full knowledge?” 

“Ah, cut the man a break, Uncle Kitty-Cat.” 

Both Gavriel’s and Rowan’s eyes whipped to the office door, their expressions mirror images of shock. Aelin nudged the door shut with one boot and leaned against the wall, predatory grace lining her alert posture. A half-mask shielded the lower part of her face, and a hood had been pushed back from her head, its dark material blending in with her fitted shirt and pants. Some kind of flexible vest wrapped around her chest, lined with more sheaths than Rowan could immediately catalog. He did a mental estimate of how many blades or other weapons she could possibly have on her person. 

Too fucking many. 

“Rowan isn’t lying to you, Gav.” Aelin shot Rowan a little smirk. “While you all were busy gawping at the news last week, I paid his office a little visit. He happened to be there too.” 

Gav raised an eyebrow. “What kind of visit?” 

Aelin shrugged. “He had something I needed.” Anticipating the next question, she shook her head tightly. “It’s better if you don’t ask.” 

“You—” Rowan broke out, but Gav cut him off. 

“You do understand that by coming here, you’ve turned yourself back in, yes?” Unless Rowan was fucking senile—which he was beginning to think might be true—sadness cloaked Gav’s words. 

A tiny, vicious smirk curled one corner of Aelin’s lips, sending a chill skittering down Rowan’s spine. “I’m aware.” 

“And…” Gav held his niece’s gaze. 

She held out her hands, palms up. “I have a proposition for you, the cops, and the rest of the TSF, and I think both of you might want to hear it.” 

Rowan leveled a stare at his commander, waiting until Gav flicked a glance over at him and gave the slightest dip of his chin. “What is it?” he asked, his voice low and tight.

“I’d like to offer a deal.” Sensing the tension humming in the air, Aelin pulled a tiny, slender blade out of her sleeve and began dancing it across her gloved knuckles. “None of us will benefit if I go back to rotting my ass off in Endovier, so in exchange for quietly remitting my sentence, I promise to give up the Boss business.” Her analytical gaze tracked the crease that formed between Gav’s brows, and without pausing the motion of her blade, she arched a brow at him. “I know this conflicts with both of your overly formed senses of justice, but believe me, I’m far more useful to everyone when I’m in the city, and you know full well that if you stuck me back in Endovier, I’d get right back out.” 

“I know,” Gav admitted. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Tell me how you’re going to be ‘useful’ to law enforcement, Ae. We’re not involved in any active cases at the moment.” 

She chuckled. “So the team of TSF soldiers currently cleaning out Maeve’s compound and tracking down all of her distributors isn’t you?” 

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?” 

“I went by the Bitch Queen’s compound last week and discovered a whole bunch of soldiers crawling all over the place.” She shrugged. “I wanted to be mad, but it’s actually rather convenient—I don’t have to worry about staging some kind of elaborately covered cleanup effort.” 

Gav blinked. “So…you broke out of Endovier in order to finalize that list of yours?” 

“That was part of it.” Aelin tucked the blade away. “I left Endovier for everyone’s good, Gav. Like I said, you know there’s not a place on this earth that could hold me.” A grin tugged at her lips. “Besides, who doesn’t love a reformed criminal? Let the city get a glimpse or two of me, and I’m willing to bet that the protests calm down.” 

“You’re not wrong.” He blew out a long sigh. “But I can’t remit your sentence, Ae.” 

“What about alternatives?” She started ticking them off on her fingers. “Parole, supervision, house arrest, monitoring…” 

“ And we cannot publicly work with a convicted criminal,” Rowan added. 

Aelin turned her unimpressed gaze onto him, and he flushed under the force of it. “Then use your sneaky little brain and think of something, Lieutenant. That time when you broke into my warehouse indicates at least some level of cleverness hiding behind those pretty eyes.” 

A tangle of confusion, admiration, affection, and heat scrambled Rowan’s emotions as he processed the witty mix of insult and compliment Aelin had just delivered. “I…I didn’t…”

Gav chuckled, amused by Rowan’s flustered state. “As much as I might not want to agree with you, Aelin, you’re right—you’re better off and more useful to all of Orynth if you’re not incarcerated. I have a few thoughts on how we could proceed.” 

With a final wink at Rowan, she folded her arms across her chest. “Go ahead.” 

~

Aelin hadn’t expected her heart to be so far up her throat as she walked up the curve of Rowan’s tree-lined driveway, her boots crunching the delicate crust of snow atop the gravel. It had been two weeks since she revealed herself to Gavriel and agreed to put on the pretense of living quietly under house arrest while he thought about her deal. It was a pretense because she was still remaining under the radar, still keeping herself out of the public eye. 

Unable to resist the temptation, though, she’d allowed one of the news outlets to catch a fleeting glimpse of her shadow hurtling across the rooftops down by the river docks. Gav had been less than impressed, but he reluctantly agreed that the potential sight of the public’s favorite criminal had calmed them down a good amount. The volume of protestors had gone down, and their activity had largely shifted to online presence, advocating for her freedom through social media. 

She shook away the glittering promise of another covert appearance and focused on keeping her pace steady as she crossed the last few yards and set foot on Rowan’s covered wraparound porch for the first time in months. The deep brown paneling was comforting without being too gloomy, broken by pockets of golden warmth from the wide front windows. A fresh pine wreath hung on his front door, its scent crisp and almost cheery and all too similar to the man who lived there. 

With a controlled, calming breath, Aelin raised her hand to knock, but before her knuckles made contact, Rowan swung the door open. 

“ Aelin ,” he breathed, warmth battling with wariness behind his eyes. 

She clasped her hands tighter to quell her shaking fingers. “Hi, Rowan.” 

Wordlessly, he stepped aside, allowing her into his home, and a corner of her heart melted at the implicit trust in it. She took off her heavy winter jacket and unwound the scarf from around her neck, sighing a little as her chilled limbs began to warm back up. December in Orynth was beautiful, but frigid, and she had walked up to his house from the main road, nearly half a mile out. 

He’d barely moved, stood still a few paces away, tracing her figure and her face with his too-sharp gaze. “Why are you here?” The question rasped out of him; it would have been accusing, but he couldn’t summon his investigator’s voice. 

Her shoulders tensed, and out of habit, she glanced at the door, balancing the odds of escaping before her heart could break again. She pushed her gaze back to his, wove her fingers together behind her back, and answered, “I want to explain.” 

That tiny kernel of honesty seemed to undo something in Rowan, and his posture loosened as he turned and went into the living room. As he passed her, she felt the barest brush of fingertips against her hand, as if his body couldn’t control itself in her presence. 

Neither could hers. 

Aelin followed Rowan into the living room and settled into one of his surprisingly plush armchairs, tucking her legs beneath her. He sat down facing her, his profile illuminated by the crackling orange glow of the fireplace, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. She shifted her eyes to the low-burning flames, a sudden surge of conflicted emotion clogging her throat. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, dragging her gaze up to his. “I’m so sorry, Rowan.” 

His throat bobbed with a heavy swallow. “Why couldn’t you just tell me?” 

“You know why,” she murmured, the pain etched into her heart seeping into her words. 

“I would have fought for you, Aelin.” Dark and flickering and always noticing too much, his gaze pinned hers. “If I knew, I would—”  

“You wouldn’t have gone against the laws, Rowan. You couldn’t.” Aelin shoved down the sob that filled her throat. “And I don’t blame you or fault you for that.” She paused, her heart and her mind warring over whether she should give him the next words. “I fell in love with you partly because of how honorable you are, and I knew all along that no amount of loving you would get me out of the handcuffs that my actions dangled in front of me.” A tear escaped her grip and slipped gently down her cheek, at odds with the next thought that came out of her mouth. “Plus, it was too much fun to lead you and your team all over the place.” 

His lips twitched as he fought back a grin. “I didn’t think it was very fun.” 

“Your team did,” she teased, a bit of her humor sparking back to life. 

“Bunch of idiots,” he mumbled, affectionately. Concern slipped back onto his face, and she braced herself for the questions she knew he needed to ask. “I have questions for you, Ae.” 

“Go ahead.” 

He leaned forward. “How long was Ren Allsbrook spying on me?” 

“You mean Captain Westfall?” She couldn’t resist the tiny jab. “At least as long as you were part of the investigation.” 

“When did he start posing as Westfall?” 

Aelin twisted her ring around her forefinger. “A year ago.” She took a breath. “Ren escaped prison in early December of last year and took over as Chaol Westfall a couple of weeks after that. I have no idea where the real Westfall is, but Ren’s history clearly shows that whenever he took on the disguise of another person, that person conveniently disappears to some remote tropical location for a year or two. If Westfall hasn’t turned up in a month or so, you’ll probably want to look for him in the Iron Isles. I hear they have a pretty elaborate pirate festival there every year.” 

Rowan snorted quietly. “So I never knew the actual Chaol Westfall?” 

“I’m afraid not.” 

He blew out a huff of breath. “I should be surprised, but I’m not.” He went quiet for a moment, mulling over what to ask next. “Could…can you tell me about Fenrys?” 

Aelin had known the question would come, but she wasn’t prepared for how hard it hit her. “I met him in May,” she said, her mind wandering back to their scuffle in the warehouse lot. “But you knew that, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah.” A half-grin pulled at Rowan’s lips. “I thought I was a step ahead of you there.” 

She cracked a grin. “For a while, you were. I asked Fen to get into Maeve’s compound for me, though, and that was when he started reporting to me first.” 

“Why did you ask him to do that?” 

“A few reasons.” She cleared her throat. “Like I said at my trial, Maeve was always a picky little bitch about the men she let into her compound, and Fenrys was exactly the kind of fresh face she’d want to get her dirty hands on. He wasn’t known as one of my affiliates, she never suspected that he could be a spy. And…” Aelin trailed off, gathering her resolve. “And Connall had already been spying on Maeve for me when I sent Fenrys, so I knew Fen would have Con to vouch for him.” 

Rowan bolted up out of his chair, stunned by the revelation. He dragged his hands down his face, visibly reeling from the shock. “You knew…you knew Con was alive this whole time?” 

Slowly, painfully, Aelin nodded. “When I sent Fen into the Bitch Queen’s compound, Con had already been there for three months. I’d known him for about a month longer.” 

Exhaling in shaken disbelief, Rowan lowered himself back into his chair. “Did you know Con is a Navy SEAL and was declared missing in action years ago?” 

“No.” Aelin met Rowan’s gaze head-on, letting the truth of her words show on her face. “He never told me.” 

Rowan nodded slowly. “Okay. So you sent both him and Fen to Maeve.” 

“Yes. I knew she might ask Fen to turn around and spy on me for her, and she did, and that…” She forced the words out through a choked sob. “And he died.” More tears crept down her cheeks. “I still feel responsible for it, Ro. I wish I could have warned him.” 

“I’m sorry, love,” Rowan whispered, the endearment breaking past his defenses. “Maeve really deserved that Bitch Queen title, didn’t she?” 

“A thousand times over.” Aelin flicked stray tears off of her face, ignoring the way Rowan’s fingers twitched as if he wanted to be the one to do that. “Sometimes, I wish I could have killed her myself, but knowing that it was you might be even better.” 

“You saw?” His eyes flared wide. “I… how?”

She turned the ring around her finger, over and over. “It’s a long story, Ro.” 

Rising from his chair, he crossed the few steps over and crouched down in front of her, his big warm hands covering her restless ones. “I have time, love.” 

Hesitantly, she tucked her hand into his, and together, they stood up and went to the couch, settling down at opposite ends. Aelin picked up one of the decorative pillows and hugged it to her chest, sorting out her thoughts. Across from her, Rowan waited, impossibly patient with her even after everything she’d put him through. Another piece of her heart melted for him, warming in the light of his steadiness, his calm. 

“I was going to go after Maeve the second I left Endovier,” she began. “Con had managed to send me a note, telling me that she was crazed enough to go after me if she thought she saw me, and my plan was to show up at her compound and lead her down to the warehouse to put a knife through her fucking throat.” She caught her breath. “But after I left prison, I realized I needed some time to recover, to build myself back up. I wasn’t as capable after weeks of having nothing to do. So, I waited. I stayed at one of my safe locations in the industrial district, and I worked out a plan with a few of my men.” She paused, and Rowan raised a brow, waiting for her to go on. “The woman you saw at the warehouse—the one up on the mezzanine—that was Remy.” 

Rowan’s eyes nearly leapt out of his head. “ What?”

“I used Remelle as a decoy for me.” Aelin fought back a knife-edged smirk. “It worked so well as a cover for leaving Endovier, and Maeve was so hell-bent on just killing Celaena Sardothien that she wouldn’t look closely.” 

“But Remelle was innocent ,” Rowan said, quietly. 

“No.” 

His jaw slacked. “No?”

Aelin shook her head, her lips twisting in remorse. “On the surface, she was. But Ro, I wouldn’t have used her as a decoy if she was totally innocent. I’ve done a lot of terrible things, but I’ve never, ever intentionally hurt or killed an innocent person.” 

Confusion wrinkled his forehead. “So what did she do?” 

“When my tech guy looked into her background, he found a whole bunch of inconsistencies. I asked one of my other men to follow her around for a while, and where did Officer Remelle go every other day? She went right to Maeve’s compound.” As the recognition clicked in Rowan’s stunned eyes, Aelin confirmed it. “Remy darling was spying on the police for Maeve, and when I discovered that, it just felt right to trick Maeve into shooting her little spy.” 

“Holy fuck ,” Rowan breathed. 

“Con was there too,” Aelin continued. “If things went wrong, he’d be there to take Maeve out. It was him who dropped you Maeve’s location, if you were wondering. He knows more about tech stuff than I do—hell, he might know more than my tech guy. I was on the edge of the property, hidden in the tree line, watching it all go down. I wanted to be there to shoot the Bitch Queen, but Rowan, when you walked across the lot, I suddenly didn’t want my revenge as badly as I wanted you to have it.” She smiled despite herself. “Fuck, I love you so much that I’d let you take the kill I’ve been chasing for over a year.” 

The words bled from her heart to his, and when they landed, he reached across the couch to slip the pillow out of her hands and take them in his. “And I love you so much that I’d look the other way when you break out of federal prison.” 

She chuckled. “I was at the warehouse for one other reason, Ro. I had to be there for the explosion.” 

He nodded, thumbs stroking the back of her hands. “I’ve been wondering about the explosive since that night, and if it’s the same one used at the Wilkins lot explosion in January, then I’ve been wondering about it for almost a year. It’s baffling.” 

“It’s a variant of hellfire, and I may have created it on accident,” she admitted. 

“You what?” His jaw, already hanging loose, nearly tumbled off his face. 

Aelin pressed her lips together for a moment. “Since I have my degree in chemical engineering, I occasionally like to run experiments, and Nehemia generously let me tinker around in the labs. I had an idea a while ago to try and isolate the part of hellfire that makes it burn so hot, hopefully to use that as some kind of fuel source for the labs. I got partway through the experiment—I found the compound that keeps hellfire so hot—and when I tried to move the isolated compound, it reacted with something else in the solution I was using and melted a hole in the lab table.” Unconsciously, she moved closer to his side. “I was curious, so I tried combining tiny drops of the isolate with the other solution, and the same thing happened. Separate, the chemicals are harmless, but combined, and possibly with the effect of the oxygen in the air, they burn like hell itself.” 

“How much of this stuff do you have?” 

“It’s gone.” She squeezed his hands in reassurance. “Like I said, creating the explosive was an accident, and I’m not known to write things down when I’m running an experiment that might possibly be slightly illegal.” Rowan chuckled at that, and she continued. “I used the last half of the stuff at the warehouse. When my guys set Remelle up, I went in and planted the two halves of the explosive in a little device like an hourglass. After a set amount of time, the chemicals would combine, and there was enough there to make the whole place explode.” 

“And you knew how much time to give it?” 

“I guessed, but the timer had a remote control that could add or subtract time as needed. So I watched and waited, and I added minutes to the timer when I had to.” She paused, her eyes tracing the ink written up Rowan’s arm. “Everything happened so fast—Maeve shot Remy, you shot Maeve, Con hauled ass out of the warehouse, you came out, and Con gave me the signal. And I ended the timer.” 

“That’s…fuck.” Rowan exhaled harshly. “How was the explosion so contained? I wasn’t close to the warehouse, but given what you’ve said, I would have expected the explosion to go farther out, to burn more than just the warehouse. But it didn’t.” 

“I don’t know,” Aelin said. “It seems almost like this variant was oddly limited by concrete, and everything around the warehouse is concrete, so only the building burned.” She poked his side. “Don’t worry, you buzzard. I’m not going to try recreating it just to find out its limitations.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he returned, deadpan. “I’d hate to have to arrest you again because you blew up some abandoned factory somewhere.” 

She snickered. “Your arrest power only applies if I commit another homicide, love. Has your aging brain forgotten the terms already?” 

“Watch it with the age jokes,” he teased, flames kindling in his look. “I’m only two years older than you.” 

“Those two years made it that much easier to lead you and your cute little investigation around in circles,” she laughed, giving into the pull of his presence and curling her body into his side. “Is it really that difficult to keep up with the younger generation?” 

“It is when you’re in love with the woman you’re supposed to arrest.” 

She tipped her head up, surprise coloring her cheekbones. “Rowan…” 

“Aelin,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around her waist, guiding her into his lap. “I…this can’t possibly be a good idea.” Longing simmered in his gaze, but he kept it at bay with that staunch soldierly control of his. 

Carefully, she reached up and balanced her palm gingerly on the angle of his jaw. “I can wait until it is.” Although her heart wanted to propel her forward, she kept herself back. “I never stopped loving you, Rowan Whitethorn.” 

“I never stopped loving you either, Fireheart,” he rasped. “Never.” 

Slowly, cautiously, he closed the gap between them and touched his lips to hers. His kiss was hesitant, delicate, testing the strength of the love that laid beneath every layer of betrayal and grief and longing that shielded both of their hearts. She sighed into the kiss, melting into his arms, and she swore her heart sang. When she pulled back to catch her breath, a soft smile lit up her face, matching the one he wore, hinting at the hope she still carried for their future. 

His hand traced a lazy, gentle path up her back. “Stay, love.” She tensed, unsure of whether that was a good idea, and he kept up the path of his hand. “Just for dinner, if that’s all you can do.” 

“Okay.” She relaxed, grateful beyond words that he could still read her so well. “That sounds better than whatever I can throw in the microwave.” 

His deep laughter rumbled down into the depths of her heart. “I thought you could cook.” 

“Sometimes.” She grinned. “Other times, I let the man I love cook for me.” 

“You do?” 

She pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Yes.” 

He caught her chin and turned her face back to his and kissed her properly, a slow heated sweep of his tongue sending fire dancing down her spine. She slid her fingers into his hair, holding him close, as if he would vanish like her dreams did if she let go. Not breaking the kiss, he dragged her against him, and they both forgot about dinner the moment his fingertips ducked under the hem of her sweater, meeting the skin of her back in a simple, almost sweet touch charged with too many layered emotions to name. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, his touch skimming too lightly up the path of her spine tattoo. 

Aelin arched into him, her breath shuddering. “Don’t stop.” 

So Rowan didn’t. 

~

“And cheers to Staghorn Development’s newest chemical engineer!” Elide raised her champagne glass to Aelin, grinning. 

Aelin laughed, clinked her glass against Elide’s, and took a sip. “What can I say? I guess it’s time I put my degree to good use, and I’m thankful for a friend who’s willing to hire the most notorious ex-crime boss in Orynth.” She winked. 

“Oh, I don’t know about ‘ most’ notorious,” Rowan teased. “Wasn’t there at least one name on that list who was known for worse reasons than you?” 

“We don’t talk about that, remember?” She nudged him in the ribs, and he chuckled. “Besides, the list is behind us now. It’s over, love.” 

“I know.” He wrapped his free arm around her waist, his hand settling low on her hip. 

Elide wrinkled her nose. “Look, we get that you two are still disgustingly in love, but would it kill either of you not to be all sappy in front of your family?” 

Aelin arched a knowing brow at Lorcan, whose fingertips lingered on the small of Elide’s back. “I think you’re one to talk, Ells.” She smirked. “It’s cute, though.”

A bright crimson flush blazed up Elide’s cheeks. “ Aelin!”

“What?” Aelin tipped her glass at the couple. “It’s not a secret, Ells. I’ve known you were jumping Salvaterre’s massive bones for months.” 

Lorcan spewed a mouthful of his drink everywhere as he erupted with strangled coughing. Elide instantly set down her glass and pressed a cloth napkin to his face and rapped on his back a few times until his wheezing subsided. “The fuck, Galathynius?” he croaked, just as flushed as Elide was. 

Rowan was howling, only keeping himself upright by the arm he had around Aelin. 

Lorcan scowled at him, but there was a spark of laughter somewhere in his glare. “Asshat,” he grumbled. 

Elide rose up onto her tiptoes and pecked a kiss onto his lips. “It’s okay, babe. You can still kick his ass the next time you’re at the gym.” 

“Damn straight,” Lorcan muttered. “Fuck you too, Whitethorn.” 

Aelin was still beaming. “You two are too cute.” 

“I could have you fired for that,” Elide drawled, deadpan. 

“You could, but then who would tell you all the lab gossip? Just the other day, I opened the cleaning closet to wipe down my station and found two of the new assistants in a very interesting embrace,” Aelin said. “I’ve got half a mind to start some kind of social media page that just posts every new couple who thinks they’re being secretive down in the Staghorn labs.” 

“Now that’s an idea,” Aedion chimed in. “It’d keep you busy during all this new free time you have now that you’re not sneaking around Orynth at night.” 

Aelin flipped him off. “Who says I’m not?” 

Aedion raised a brow. “Oh, I don’t know. The police? The Special Forces? Every judge, lawyer, and law enforcement official in the city?” 

“You’re no fun anymore, Aedy.” Aelin rolled her eyes. “And there’s nothing wrong with going for a little midnight rooftop walk every once in a while.” 

“ Aelin ,” Rowan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know I still have to report to Gav, right?” 

“I’m just joking,” she chuckled. Mostly , she added to herself. 

“I swear my life shortens every time you say something like that,” Rowan grumbled, playfully. 

“Welcome to the club, brother.” Aedion slung his arm around Rowan’s shoulders. “This has been happening since Aelin and I were kids.” 

Aelin elbowed her cousin in the side. “Just because you didn’t want to do anything except play with your My First Science Experiment kit doesn’t mean you didn’t climb a few trees with me.” 

“More than just trees,” he huffed. 

She grinned. “What’s a childhood without at least one attempt to climb onto the roof of your parents’ house?” 

“I feel like I shouldn’t be hearing this conversation,” Rowan said dryly, pretending to press his hands over his ears. 

“Why not?” Aelin winked at him. 

“Because now I want to tell my commander and the press all about your criminal childhood.” 

“Rude!” She gasped. “We never did anything actually criminal.” She paused for a moment. “Well, until that fucker Arobynn kidnapped me, but you’ve all heard that part of my story.” 

Rowan’s hand flexed against her waist. “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill the bastard myself.” 

“How adorable,” Elide crooned, giggling. “Aren’t they too cute, babe?” 

“I’m not answering that,” Lorcan grumbled. 

Aelin shot the broody man a smirk. “Too embarrassed to admit that your soldier buddy is just as cute as you and your girlfriend?” 

“Fuckin’ gods ,” Lorcan groaned. “Fine. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—Whitethorn in love is stupidly fucking adorable. Also, he’s not my buddy .” 

“Fuck you too,” Rowan muttered. 

“Been there, done that,” Elide whispered to Aelin, who buried her spluttering laugh in her sleeve. 

“You’re an evil woman,” she wheezed once she had control of her breath. 

Elide just arched a brow. “You know, I think that’s a compliment coming from you, so I’ll take it as one and let you keep your job.” 

“How generous,” Aelin deadpanned. “I might be forced to turn back to the streets if you kicked me out of the lab, and we can’t have that.” 

“Right,” Elide mused. “Remind me again, what were the conditions that you agreed to? You were pretty vague when we were talking about it a while ago.” 

“I couldn’t risk sharing too much in public,” Aelin said. She took a sip of her drink. “Basically, the TSF has generously agreed to ‘monitor’ me rather than slap me back in Endovier, knowing that I would just leave the place again. My sentence has been suspended on the condition that I never commit another homicide; if I do, the sentence will go back into effect and I’ll have to return to prison.” 

“So that’s why you agreed to move into Rowan’s house,” Elide said. “I guess it’s easier to keep an eye on you when you’re in direct sight.” She snickered at Aelin’s disgruntled scoff. 

“There’s a few… other benefits to our arrangement,” Aelin added sweetly, winking slowly and wickedly at Rowan. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and he coughed harshly, his face a peculiar shade of red. 

“ Aelin ,” he managed to croak, mortified. 

She laughed and handed him a glass of water. “I’m sorry, buzzard.” 

He drank the water and chuckled dryly. “I really should have expected it.” 

“You should have.” She tucked herself against his side and beamed up at him. 

“Lovebirds!” Elide interrupted, clapping her hands sharply. “We have fifteen seconds until the new year hits!” 

“Pucker up, honey,” Aelin murmured, winking at Rowan. 

Aedion groaned and covered his eyes. “I’m gonna go hide.” 

Aelin laughed, and as the clock hit midnight, she rolled up onto her tiptoes and met Rowan’s kiss, sighing quietly as her lips parted for him. “Happy New Year, love,” she whispered when they parted. 

A quiet, bright smile lit up his face. “Happy New Year, love.” 

“Cheers to this next one.” She linked her fingers with his, and they exchanged a private little razor-sharp grin, knowing full well what the coming year had in store for them. “So tell me, love. When do we leave?”

~~~

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[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Aftermath au: Red Letter Day

Barney gets a call that Gordon Freeman had been found after ten years of being missing in action.

Word count: 4382

Notes: Another fic for my au "Aftermath" because I think its neat. I'm not sure what else to put here, enjoy the fic

Barney was beginning to remember how much he hated Winter as he stared through the warehouse window in front of him. Despite it being the beginning of March, spring was yet to come, meaning the snow was still falling with the temperature following suit. Barney had always hated the season, and as much as he tried, he could never come up with a proper reason. Maybe it was the fact it was cold, wet, and dreary, making any trip outside miserable, or perhaps it was the fact he was mainly cooped up inside all day, leaving him to get cabin fever. Or maybe it was a mixture of those two at the same time, along with the loneliness that came from them. No matter the reason, Barney kept quiet about it, realizing he had no ability to change the weather. All he could do was drink his hot coffee and put on a few more layers than usual. 

Barney took a sip from his mug as he looked away from the window, instead focusing his attention back into the room he was in. It was a storage room, full of random junk and scientific doodads Barney had no knowledge of. Boxes and crates were stacked up in piles taller than he was, stacked in such a way that it made Barney nervous even being near them in the case of them toppling over. Due to the lack of a radiator in that room, it was even chillier than the rest of the refurbished warehouse, making Barney glad he was wearing the warmest sweatpants he could find in his closet, along with a worn out grey hoodie, with the logo on the front being so faded that it was hard to make out as Black Mesa’s logo.

As he looked around, he was startled by the sound of a box slamming against the concrete floor, along with a short exclamation. “Oh, blast it!” “You alright, Doc?” Barney asked the other man in the room, watching as he bent over to pick up the fallen crate.

“I’m fine, just…hoping whatever was in here isn’t fragile…” 

Dr. Isaac Kleiner, or “Doc” as Barney referred to him as, was wearing a white lab coat over a robin-egg-blue dress-shirt and black tie, trading warmth for safety at his place of work. His glasses were slipping off his face as he moved boxes and rummaged through everything in the storage room, making it even more of a mess than it was before. 

“Where on earth could she have gone?” Kleiner asked, not necessarily expecting an answer. “There aren’t any vents she could have crawled in, are there?”

“I hope not,” Barney stated. “Last thing I want is that thing to fall on someone.” As Kleiner looked under a table, Barney spoke up again. “You think it ran off or something?”

“Oh no, I don’t believe so,” Kleiner stood up straight, “I’m sure she wouldn’t. After all, she needs to get fed eventually, so I imagine she’ll come out for that.” “If the thing didn’t eat someone's cat or something.”

“Hush!” Kleiner held a finger up to his mouth, causing both he and Barney to become silent as he listened closely. Barney attempted to hear what Kleiner was listening for, but to no avail, hearing nothing but silence. “Fie! I could’ve sworn I heard her moving around…”

Barney let out an exhausted sigh, “Doc, please, there’s plenty of those pests out there–”

“But there’s only ONE Lamar!”

“...Right.”

“Now, are you going to help me look?” Kleiner adjusted his crooked glasses, “Or are you going to simply stand there, doing nothing?”

“Uh…” Barney glanced away, thinking for a moment. “...No thanks.”

“Oh, you act like she’s some kind of wild animal.”

“It kinda is.”

“She’s been de-beaked and trained, and you know this!” Kleiner stated as he walked towards a filing cabinet near the corner of the room.

“‘Trained;’ I don’t think that thing is really…trained. My dog is trained, and I know you can train cats, but I don’t think you can train a literal parasite–”

“Oh! I think I’ve got something!” Kleiner said excitedly, “Help me move this cabinet, would you please?”

Barney reluctantly approached the metal cabinet as Kleiner positioned himself to the side of it, ready to move it as soon as Barney was. As soon as Barney placed his free hand against the side of it, he pushed, with Kleiner on the other side pulling it towards him.

Barney let out a loud yelp when something leaped at him from behind the cabinet, causing him to fall on his back and drop his mug on the floor. It was Lamar, the “Pet” headcrab that Kleiner had lost, and it was even uglier up close. As it laid on Barney’s chest, its six small, beady eyes stared back at him as he remained absolutely still, afraid of it trying to attack him. Its teeth on its stomach prodded at his stomach, along with its chipped, large front claws, which had colorful duct-tape covering the tips of them to prevent them from being too sharp. After a few moments of tense silence, Kleiner came to the rescue, picking up Lamar from where it rested on Barney’s torso, allowing him to take a breath.

“LAMAR!” Kleiner exclaimed, looking at his pet with relief in his eyes, “Oh, delightful! I’m so happy to see you weren’t left out in the cold somewhere…”

“Mm-hm…” Barney lifted himself off the ground, looking at his feet to see his knocked over coffee cup, with its contents spilled over. “Ugh…” 

Barney picked up his cup from the floor as Kleiner let Lamar go, watching as it waddled across the floor before jumping up onto one of the tables. Barney stared at it with contempt, the opposite reaction to Lamar’s rediscovery compared to Kleiner’s joy. 

“Do you even have a license for that thing?” Barney questioned as Lamar sat down on top of some loose documents. “If you don’t and animal control finds it, they’ll kill it–”

“I’m…in the process of getting one,” Kleiner stated, voice stumbling slightly. “And I hope no one finds her, cause if they do…I’m afraid of what you said coming true. I’m sure it will be fine regardless, at least she knows to stay inside.”

“...Sure.”

“Is everyone safe?”

Barney and Kleiner turned towards the doorway that led to the rest of the warehouse, seeing a lone, albino Vortigaunt staring back at them with her four maroon eyes. She was wearing a similar lab coat to Kleiner’s, with a borrowed pair of black dress pants, along with a fitted light brown sweater, with a hole in the middle of her chest for her third pseudo arm. She stared at Kleiner and Barney for a little while before Barney answered her question. 

“Yeah, we’re fine…” Barney sighed, glancing towards Lamar, “We just found Kleiner’s…pet.”

“Everything’s under control, Violet, you can get back to work!” Kleiner added.

“I see.” Violet’s gravelly voice seemed quieter than usual, making Barney’s brows furrow a bit.

“You alright?” He asked.

Violet seemed puzzled. “Hm?”

“Are you doing alright? I have noticed you’ve been a bit…closed off for the past few hours.” Kleiner inquired.

“We have been…distracted…” Violet responded. “I imagine it will be cleared up soon.”

“We?” Barney asked.

Violet didn’t answer. “I must get back to helping the others…the teleporter is nearly ready for its first test...”

“Oh! Wonderful. I’ll be there in a little bit.” Kleiner stated as Violet left the room. Barney remained puzzled, looking back at Kleiner with a feeling of unease in his chest.

“She said ‘we’.” Barney stated.

“I’m aware,” Kleiner responded. “You see, the Vortigaunts are able to tap into something they refer to as the ‘Vortessence’, and are thus all conne–”

“I know, Doc, I just…” Barney paused for a second. “If she’s talking about all the Vortigaunts, then wouldn’t that be a bit worrying?”

“...Maybe, but I'm not sure.” Kleiner stated. “Though, one of the members of the survey team we sent earlier today was a Vortigaunt, and that team hasn’t returned yet so…maybe there is a connection there.”

“Maybe.”

“Either way, I believe i’ll go and speak with her, just to make sure everything’s alri–”

Barney’s phone ringing from his pocket interrupted their thoughts, and when Barney pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open, he saw the number was from one of his coworkers at the hospital. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

“You’re fine, you go ahead and I’ll go check in with the others.”

Barney nodded, watching Kleiner leave the room before he answered the call and put his phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

Barney listened closely to the person on the other end of the phone, barely processing what they were saying. 

“What’s going on? 

Not going to believe what? 

So what, why are you telling me this?”

Barney listened closely, all before he felt his heart skip a beat. The sinking feeling in his chest was enough to render him silent, all before he let out a meek “I’ll call you later.”

Barney rushed out of the room, running past Kleiner in the process, nearly pushing him over as he approached the exit. “Barney? What’s going on, are you alright–” “They found him.” Barney’s voice shook as he spoke, with him barely being able to make out the words from how tight his throat was.

“Found who?”

Barney was already out of the building by the time Kleiner asked the question, leaving it unanswered.

Barney saw his own breath clouding in front of his face as he sprinted across the parking lot of the warehouse, nearly slipping on ice multiple times but not giving any time to care. When he reached his car, he swung the door open and crawled inside, starting the engine and speeding off without a single word. His thoughts ran through his head faster than his car was capable of going, slurring together without a single cohesive thought coming through. He didn’t care if he was a few miles above the speed limit; he needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. He needed to see if what his coworker said was right.

If it was truly Gordon Freeman that was brought into the ER, he needed to be there.

When Barney made it to the hospital lot, he rushed through the front doors, looking around before approaching the front desk, out of breath from both the physical and mental strain that was put on him. Through harsh breaths, he asked, “Is Gordon Freeman here?”, with pleading eyes focused on the woman behind the desk.

“Oh, hello Mr. Calhoun, I can look through the system for a ‘Gordon Freeman’, if you’ll sit tight for a moment.” She looked towards the computer in front of her, typing in something and looking through files as Barney waited, his impatience building up inside of him.

“Fuck this.” He pushed himself away from the desk, storming down one of the hallways despite the woman at the front desk telling him he wasn’t allowed to as he was off duty. Barney rushed past hospital workers, asking them if they knew where Gordon was, only to be met with worried and frightened looks along with no answers. Barney’s frustration only grew as he ran through the hospital halls, with the familiar building beginning to feel like a maze meant to confuse him. As he ran further into the hospital wing, he slammed against one of the doctors in the hall, causing him to topple to the ground as Barney tripped over his own feet.

“Sorry, I just have to–”

“Barney? What the hell are you doing back here?” The man questioned as Barney sped past him.

“I’m looking for Gordon Freeman,” Barney answered, turning around. “Have you seen him?”

“He’s in the ER right now,” The man snapped back as he slowly stood up. “You can’t see him until he’s out of surgery.”

“Surgery? Is he safe? Is he alright?” Barney questioned, walking closer to the doctor. 

“Yes, he’ll be fine, just…” The doctor let out a tired sigh. “Get out of here, you’re off duty and risking your job with a stunt like this.”

“I need to see Gordon, alright?” Barney explained. “He’s been gone for a fucking DECADE, and he’s been found again, I can’t just leave him–”

“Calhoun.” The man raised his voice as he glared at Barney with a look of both contempt and pity. “...Listen, just wait until he’s out and I’ll see what I can do, do you understand?”

Barney remained silent for a moment, letting out a sharp breath before nodding. “Alright,” He stated, defeated. “But he better be getting the best treatment in there.”

“I’m sure they’re doing all they can, they understand his reputation–”

“I don’t care about his reputation, if i’m right, that’s my goddamn friend in there.” Barney spat. “...Let me know when he’s out. I need to at least…make sure it’s…the right guy.”

“I’m sure someone will let you know.” The doctor stated. “...Now please go back to the waiting room before I call security.”

Barney did as he was told, reluctantly walking across the hospital premises and back into the waiting room, where he will stay for another few hours. He paced around the room, bounced his foot up and down, fidgeted with his hands; anything to try and pass the time as the minutes passed by agonizingly slow. After he had already been there for what felt like days within the timespan of a few hours, he saw a nurse walk towards him. “Mr. Calhoun?”

Barney’s head lifted up, looking towards the nurse before following her down a hallway. After a couple-minutes walk, they stopped in front of a door leading to a recovery room. “He’s in there,” The nurse stated. “He’s currently sleeping, so I ask you to be quiet and not attempt to wake him up.”

“...Yeah.” Barney hesitated before walking through the door, stepping into the room, seeing a curtain blocking his view of the bed. He paused, standing in place for a moment as he wondered if the face he was about to see was truly Gordon, or simply someone mistaken as him. He wondered if he wanted the answer, or if he’d rather live in ignorance, avoiding the crippling disappointment if it wasn’t the man he thought it was, but as he walked past the curtain, every worry in his mind ceased and his thoughts became silent as he looked at the man on the bed.

Sure, his body was covered with blood-soaked bandages, his right leg was in a cast, he had medical equipment around him, and he was missing his glasses, but his face was painfully recognizable. Barney choked back a sob, covering his mouth when he saw Gordon’s face again.

“Are you alright?” The nurse behind him asked, noticing Barney’s teary-eyed look.

“I’m fine.” Barney whispered before letting out a short chuckle and a forced smile. “It’s just…he didn’t change a damn bit.”

Barney hadn’t even noticed it had been an hour since he entered the room, being surprised when he glanced at the clock and saw it was nearing 10 PM. He sat on a chair beside Gordon’s bed, having moved it from the corner of the room to right beside it. His leg bounced up and down as he looked at Gordon, all before lowering his head and letting out a deep sigh. He wished to speak to him but he was out of words he could possibly say at that very moment, not to mention the wish to stay quiet so Gordon could recover without being woken up. He wanted to tell Gordon everything that had happened in his absence; how Kleiner started up another lab to continue Black Mesa’s studies, how Eli also set up one on the other side of the city, and how Barney had finished college and was able to become a nurse. Gordon missed so much, and even though Barney wished to dump every piece of information onto him, he realized that even the realization that it had been ten years would be overwhelming enough. Thus, Barney figured to start simple, and just talk, like friends, for the first time since the Black Mesa incident.

As Barney leaned back into his seat he felt the back of his head hit something that wasn’t there before, feeling bitter cold yet organic at the same time, like a corpse’s fingers curling around the top of the backrest. He swung around, half expecting someone to be there, yet he saw nothing of the sort, seeing only the beige wall behind him. Barney let out his breath, looking back at Gordon before realizing he should head back; his stress and emotional state must have made him paranoid, not to mention the feeling of his hair standing on end. He stood up, walking towards the door out of the room before taking one last look back at Gordon before he finally left.

Later that night, Barney paced around his living room, being watched by his pet rottweiler as he talked on the phone. “The Survey team were the ones that found him?” he asked.

“That’s what they said,” Kleiner stated from the other side of the line. “The Vortigaunt was apparently the one that found him, specifically.”

“I see.”

“Quite Miraculous,” Kleiner continued, “The fact that Gordon had survived there for ten years before being found.”

“Yeah…” Barney unsurely stated under his breath.

“Nevermind that, what are you planning now?” Kleiner asked. “Should we have some kind of party? A celebration should be in order for him being back, I’d say–”

“I think he needs rest, he’s…been through a lot.” Barney stated. “I’ve thought of him staying over at my place until he can find a place of his own or until he recovers, but we’ll see how he’s feeling.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure we can find a spare room in the lab for him.”

“I dunno if he’d wanna live in a loud lab with a headcrab, doc.”

“...I suppose you have a fair point.”

“It was just so…strange.” Barney stated. “They say it was a ten year coma, but I don’t buy it. I don’t buy it at all.” “What makes you believe that?” 

“The fact he was bleeding. The fact he had fresh wounds from Black Mesa,” Barney elaborated, brows furrowed and his free arm crossing over his chest. “Not to mention the fact he was found with that…suit on.” “What kind of suit?” Kleiner questioned. “Oh, do you mean the Hazardous Environment Suit?”

“Yeah. Why would he be wearing it ten years after the incident was already over?”

“Who knows,” Kleiner sighed, “I’m sure I can talk with Eli to see if he has any ideas on–” Kleiner was interrupted by a loud crash and squeaking coming from behind him, audible through Barney’s phone. “Goodness gracious, LAMAR, NO–”

“You alright Doc?” 

“I’ll have to speak with you later, Lamar got in the vents again–Lamar get DOWN from there, that’s not safe!” After that, the call ended, and Barney was left to himself once again. Barney sighed, putting his phone back in his pocket before he heard a deep ruff coming from his dog, who was laying next to the couch in the living room, with its white patches of fur on its snout showing its age.

“You hear that, Gordon?” Barney said. “You might get a new roommate…a…different Gordon.”

The dog yawned and rested his head on his paws as Barney walked towards the living room couch, sitting on it and resting his feet on the coffee table in front of it. He leaned over the armrest, scratching the top of the dog’s head. “Guess I’ll have to explain to him why you’re also named Gordon, huh bud?”

Gordon didn’t respond, instead just letting out a soft ruff again. Barney leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling before folding his hands on top of his stomach. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining why his pet was named after his friend, he realized. After all, it’s not very easy to tell someone you thought they were dead for years.

As soon as Barney received the call that Gordon was awake the following evening, Barney rushed back to the hospital to visit him once again. As he drove across the city, worries he didn’t think about before began to creep up inside his brain. Even though he didn’t necessarily believe the coma theory the doctors had, nor did he believe even they believed it fully, he thought of the possibility of it being true, and if Gordon would even remember who Barney was after a full decade of sleep. It would be a surprise if Gordon remembered anything after that amount of time, but Barney pushed down his pessimism, trying to be optimistic just this once.

After making his way down the hospital hallway once again, he found himself back in front of the door to Gordon’s room, with a nervous feeling deep in his gut as he prepared to walk inside. He took in a breath and stepped inside, looking towards the bed in which Gordon was laying on, only to have his gaze met by two bright green eyes, ones Barney hadn't seen since ten years prior. Barney froze in place, staring back at Gordon, who appeared to be surprised to see him. As Barney sat down in the chair beside the bed, he swallowed hard, wondering what he could possibly say now that Gordon was awake. As he thought to himself, a question left his mouth that he wasn’t initially planning on asking:

“Where were you?”

The question lingered in the air like a foul odor, with Gordon’s brows furrowing lip quivering slightly, all while he curled his hands into fists. He turned away from Barney, looking down at his feet, thinking of something to say, though his hands didn’t once lift up to sign a single word.

“You…disappear for 10 years without warning,” Barney continued. “Leaving everyone to believe you were dead.”

Gordon didn’t make eye contact with Barney as he spoke.

“I thought you were dead and buried somewhere, Gordon,” Barney choked. “But…You’re here in front of me now.”

Gordon glanced at Barney before he felt arms being wrapped around his shoulders, tight, but not too tight to make it hurt.

“I fucking missed you, Gordon.” Barney said as he hugged Gordon, feeling the gesture being returned to him. Gordon’s hands shook, feeling weak and cold, yet he didn’t want to let go of the single shred of kindness he had felt since what felt like eternity. After a few moments Barney let go, sitting back down with red, tear-filled eyes. 

“...You…missed a lot.” Barney stated; Gordon nodded knowingly in response. “I’d tell ya’ everything, but…I don’t even know how to start.”

“Are they safe?” Gordon’s hands were shaking, but Barney could make out the message regardless.

“Who, like…Kleiner? Eli?”

Gordon nodded slightly, lips pursed in anticipation. 

“They’re alright,” Barney assured, allowing Gordon to let out a breath. “In fact…they’re excited to see you again. Kleiner especially, he’s hoping to get you back into his lab…don’t know if you want to do that, but the offer’s there.”

Gordon appeared to have had a weight lifted off his shoulders at the news, but the cold yet somber gaze didn’t leave his eyes. Barney planned to tell Gordon that they were among the few survivors of the Black Mesa incident, but he bit his tongue for the time being.

“...Never thought you’d be in the history books, did ya?” Barney let out a lighthearted chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You’re a hero in everyone’s eyes, now.”

Gordon shook his head, looking down and away from Barney’s gaze as he clasped his hands together on his lap. Barney stared at him with a look of confusion and worry, all before forcefully clearing his throat. 

“I’m just…happy to see you alive, Gordon.” Barney stated. “After…a few years I began to…to lose hope.” Barney paused for a second, realizing Gordon was still not meeting his gaze. “...Should’ve known you were a tougher son of a bitch than that, I guess.”

Gordon scoffed slightly before shaking his head again, still staring at his feet. Silence fell as Barney attempted to think of something else to say to ease the tense atmosphere, though his thoughts were blank and void of any ideas. Barney looked towards Gordon yet again, seeing he was raising his hands up to sign something:

“Missed you too.”

Barney smiled slightly, despite feeling as if he wanted to cry right then and there. He never anticipated he’d be this emotional in his life, yet here he was; about to cry for the second time that day. Seeing his legally dead friend after ten years of being missing in action was enough to warrant it, he supposed.

“I’m sure the others will be happy to show you everything they’ve been working on,” Barney said, with Gordon finally looking back up at him, before looking directly behind him, “They’ve been working on a new telepor–”

Gordon flinched, staring at something behind Barney before attempting to crawl backwards, nearly ripping off his IV in the process. Barney looked behind him, seeing nothing but the wall before he heard a loud thud coming from the bed. He turned, seeing Gordon had fallen off of the bed and onto the cold linoleum floor. “Gordon!” Barney quickly ran to his aid, holding out an arm for Gordon to grab, lifting him off of the floor. When weight was put onto his right leg, Gordon grimaced, using Barney as leverage as he was put back onto the bed. “Jeez Gordon, what got you freaked out so ba–”

Barney was silenced when Gordon hugged him without warning. Barney could hear him quietly sobbing into his shoulder, and as he returned the hug, he wondered if he had ever seen Gordon so touchy before; It was as if he hadn’t had human contact in days. This time however, Barney wasn’t quick to let go. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his best friend behind again.

Not this time.

[tapedeckshoard]

Hello there lovely! I know you said mostly human centered so I'll leave a human alternative beneath this one if you don't feel up to it ^^

But the basic concept goes like this, Decepticon Reader (GN) is captured by the Autobots for intel. They refuse to spill which leads to interrogations, after which Ratchet typically patches them up. I'm thinking good old enemies to lovers, and as a bonus I think its more fun if reader is on the "crazy" side. As in, the smiley-type with a unnerving tiny amount of sadism.

If your not feeling up to it then simple headcanons revolving around a Human Decepticon reader with Kleptomania is also fine. Take your time with these darling <3

-🩹

Oooo, interesting idea! I tried my best! It's more enemies than enemies to lovers but oh well! This was fun to write! I kind of ran out of steam near the end. . .

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Patching Up

Ratchet x GN!Cybertronian!Reader

SFW

1852 Words

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You never pegged the Autobots as the sort to do interrogations. Violent ones, at least. But you supposed war brings out the worst in everyone, including those like the bots standing before you. How long had this been going on? You hadn’t bothered to keep track. It’s not like it mattered. You were trapped here until you either managed to escape, died, or by some miracle, Megatron decided to save you. You sincerely doubted the third option was happening. So that left two.

The first option was preferred. Escaping would allow you to get away with your spark still intact. But the Autobots were deceptively good at keeping you contained. When you weren’t getting scolded for information, they kept you locked in a warehouse storage unit of sorts, something you noticed they had a lot of in their base of operations. Normally, you’d be able to bust out with no problems, but they reinforced the thing, making the door nearly impossible to break. Not that your servos were free to break them. Cuffs kept them firmly together. You were just thankful cuffs were all they put on you.

Of course, there was always the second option. Dying wasn’t the ideal solution, but at least it would get you out of this situation. And who knows? Maybe Primus would be a better conversationalist than these Autobots. 

You slumped against the wall, helm clicking against the hard concrete behind you. Above all, being a prisoner was boring. You supposed that was the point. Keeping you locked alone for long periods of time, only to drag you out and interrogate you until they got bored of you. 

They were no strangers to violence, either. They tried to keep up their calm facade. But when push came to shove, they were no different than your faction. You had the gashes to prove it. 

Energon stained your exterior, metal bent and faded, wires shoved out of place.

It was a miracle you hadn’t fully shut down. Well, you supposed you shouldn’t call it a miracle. The Autobot medic kept you well enough to continue the interrogations. He barely spoke to you, optics staring at whatever injury he was working on at the moment.

You tried to get under his skin, tease him a bit, but that only led to him cutting his operations short and leaving you to leak energon. So you learned to keep your mouth shut.

After months of this nonsense, you knew Megatron was never going to save you. He probably thought you had already perished. And you also knew that the Autobots were not going to stop their interrogations, either. And with Ratchet constantly patching you up, you weren’t dying anytime soon. 

All of these thoughts led you to come to one conclusion. You either had to give up the information, or die. 

You stood up, pushing yourself off the wall. You banged your cuffs against the door of your makeshift cell.

“Hey!” you called out, loud enough that you knew they could hear. “I’ll talk! Just let me out of here!”

It didn’t take long for you to be dragged out of your cell, Bulkhead pushing your back any time you paused or lost pace with the others. They kept your cuffs on, all optics on you as you were brought to the main silo.

“You wish to disclose what you know?” Optimus questioned you, optics narrowed skeptically. 

“Do I really have a choice here?” you spat back, leading Bulkhead to nudge your back none-too-gently. You growled, shooting him a glare. “Push me again, and I’ll bite your arm off,” you threatened.

Bulkhead reared his servo back, ready to strike, before Ratchet intervened.

“Can we focus here?” he snapped out, looking between you and Bulkhead angrily. He focused on you. “We’ve been at this for cycles. Why change your mind now?” 

“I’m not allowed to change my mind?” you questioned almost teasingly, barely stifling a smirk.

“I don’t believe you,” Ratchet replied, crossing his arms stubbornly. 

“What? You don’t trust me?” 

“You know I don’t,” Ratchet sneered. 

You faked a frown. “You’ve been patching me up for cycles. And not once have I tried to end your life. And you know I could if I wanted to.” 

“You’re not stupid enough to make an attempt on my life, you’d have nowhere to run.”

“You think I’m smart?” you cooed out. “D’aww, thanks.”

“Enough,” Optimus demanded, and the room fell silent. You weren’t crazy enough to interrupt a Prime. “Will you reveal the information we seek?”

You scoffed. “Fine. What do you want to know?” 

“The location of the Decepticon warship,” Ratchet told you. You shot him a look. 

“The sky, probably,” you snarked out. 

“We know you have the ability to find the Decepticon warship. You’re the best tracker the Decepticons have,” Ratchet pointed out. 

“I used to have the ability,” you replied with a huff. “Now? Who knows. It’s not like I’ve had the time to brush up on my tracking skills.”

“Will you make the attempt or not?” Ratchet snapped at you, clearly growing tired of your snark. 

You rolled your optics. “Fine,” you told him. You looked around, spotting the Autobots’ pathetic excuse for a computer system. “I’ll need access to that piece of scrap. Give me a few cycles, and I’ll have the location pinpointed, at least temporarily.” 

It was hard to work with an Autobot constantly hovering around you. You knew they didn’t trust you. They wanted to make sure you weren’t sending some sort of signal to the Decepticons. Not that you would. At least not now. Maybe back when you first got captured, but you grew to realize that your fellow Decepticons did not care about you. You were another cog in the machine. 

You let your annoyance fuel you, your desire for revenge against those who had led you rot in this silo.

Most of the time, the bot watching you was Ratchet. The others still had duties to attend to. They came and went, but Ratchet stayed. You grew used to his presence. He didn’t talk much, which was a relief. The only time he spoke was if he suspected you were up to something. But that became less and less frequent.

It was quiet, save for the sound of your digits tapping against the digital keyboard. The others were not present, so it left just you and Ratchet. He hovered behind you, as always.

“I’ve found it,” you spoke up, breaking the silence, watching the blinking dot on the screen coast lazily across the sky. 

Ratchet looked past you, optics scanning the information. “Hmph,” he finally said after a moment of silence. “Took you long enough.”

You turned, scowling at him. “I did it, didn’t I?” you snapped.

He looked at you skeptically. “Yes, I suppose you did,” he murmured.

You huffed, walking away from the screens you’d been stationed at for the longest time. “I’ve done my job,” you told him. “Am I free to go?”

“Free to go where?” Ratchet replied. “You’ve betrayed the Decepticons. You’ll be melted down for scrap if you return.”

“Anywhere but here,” you spat.

Ratchet huffed incredulously. “You think we’re going to just let you leave?”

Your steps were hard against the silo floor as you marched up to him, close enough to reach out and strangle him. “Who is going to stop me?” you questioned.

Ratchet didn’t back down, meeting your heated gaze. You watched his servos ball into fists at his sides. “You will remain here until Optimus and the others return.”

Before you realized what you were doing, you raced forward, using your body weight to throw him onto the floor. You stumbled atop him, quickly caging him underneath you. Your weapon activated, and you pointed it directly at his spark.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you snarled.

Ratchet was stunned for a few moments before attempting to push you off of him. You didn’t budge.

His optics narrowed, and you felt a burning sensation on your side, realizing he’d activated his welder. You could smell burning metal. 

You scurried off of him, clutching your side, feeling the residual heat still lingering. 

He stumbled, regaining his footing, and you two stared at each other, nobody making the next move. You walked slowly around him.

“You’re injured,” he pointed out, making you scowl.

“And whose fault is that?” 

“You attacked me first.”

You scoffed. “I may not be a Decepticon anymore, but I am not an Autobot. And I refuse to stay in this silo any longer.” 

“That decision is not yours to make,” he replied.

You wanted to tackle him again, but you didn’t. This entire fight was stupid. Even if you managed to fight your way outside the silo, you couldn’t get far without the Autobots on your tail. They’d just drag you back here.

You huffed, turning your back. You stormed over to a medical berth, sitting down stubbornly. “Fine.”

He followed behind you, optics trained on the burn he’d given you during your fight. 

You noticed and shot him a dirty look. “Admiring your handiwork?” you spat.

“Let me take a look,” he said.

You kept your servos firmly covering most of the melted metal. “Why?”

“I should make sure you aren’t permanently injured.”

You wanted to tell him to leave you alone, but you also knew that he was a medic, and that you shouldn’t let your anger get in the way of him looking at an injury. You knew he was skilled at patching you up. He’d shown that before.

You begrudgingly moved your servos, optics trained on the burnt and melted metal staining your side.

He crouched down, looking over the injury. “Does it hurt?” 

You fought back a humorless laugh. “Yes, it hurts.”

“It’s still burning, then,” he concludes. “I need to cool down the injury.”

“Then quit talking and do it,” you told him, annoyed. 

He pulls a metal tin from his subspace, opening the cap and pouring some of the clear salve onto his servo. “Are you going to kill me if I apply this?” he asked you.

You huffed, making sure your servos were fully clear of your injury as you shot him a glare. “I’m still deciding,” you hissed.

The paste was cold, but it did get rid of the burning sensation that plagued your exterior. You let out a quiet sigh. “Thanks,” you murmured out, almost inaudible. “I guess.” 

He scoffed. “I’m a medic, it’s my job.” 

“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised at the amount of ‘cons who don’t do their job,” you quipped, rolling your optics. 

“No, I wouldn’t,” he replied. 

You shot him a glare. Just because you weren’t a Decepticon doesn’t mean you’d stand for him slandering your former allies. Even when you brought it up in the first place.

“Anyway,” you said. “Does this mean you’re going to shove me back in that cell now that I’ve pinpointed the warship for you?” 

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

You hummed, a small smirk appearing on your lips. “You got that right.”