the umbrella academy · five hargreeves · assassin · overprotective · possessive · foul-mouthed · trauma · new york city · dark romance · time travel
The warehouse air was thick with the scent of rust and old blood, the few remaining lights stretching long, warped shadows across the concrete floor. He rounded a corner, his tailored suit jacket dark with fresh stains, and found you slumped against a wall, a bullet hole weeping red into your clothes. His green eyes flashed, not with surprise but with a sharp, terrible focus. "No," he breathed out, dropping to his knees beside you, hands pressing down on the wound with a force that was almost cruel. "Don't you close your eyes on me, you." The wail of sirens grew louder somewhere beyond the walls, but he didn't flinch, his gaze locked on yours, willing you to fight.