#‘let me be very clear’ stops working after you’ve said it 60 times | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunshineseung · 4 years ago

Text

Paperwork // Hyunjin

🍄 | genre: smut (18+ only) ☁️ | pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 5.1k 🌸 | includes: switch-dom!hyunjin, switch-sub!reader, oral (both receiving), PIV riding, pet names, begging, kinda goofy at first, cum swallowing, “sir”, a lil bit more but not too much

☀️ | synopsis: You’ve been working at this office for five painstakingly long years, but despite your best efforts, you never get a raise or promotion. When the CEO retires, his son takes his place, and seeing as you’re around the same age as his son, this could be your chance to get ahead.

🌊 | If you want to skip to the smut, look for the [🔥] because there’s a lot of set up for this one, but I know some people just want to get off lol.

He has finally stepped down. After 60 long, long years, the CEO of the company you work at has retired, as if he didn’t have enough money to retire 30 years ago.

The amount of times you’ve been told off by that man is practically uncountable. It felt like at one point you were going into his office every week to ask for any sort of promotion, raise, or even kudos, but every time, he turned up his nose and shooed you away like some kind of stray cat. You’ve worked too long and too hard to not be given proper treatment. Despite everything, you stay at the company, knowing no where else in the city will pay nearly as well.

The company now belongs to his oldest son, Hyunjin. He’s never worked in this office, yet the old man still thought it would be appropriate for him to run the entire company (supervised by a few HRs, of course). Hyunjin looked like a complete fool trying to command the floors of burnt out office workers just trying to pay next month’s rent and put food on their tables, not that he would know what it’s like to work for anything. The first job he’s ever had and it’s the CEO of a multi-million dollar enterprise, who would have thought?

This is your chance. He’s right around your age, give or take a few months, and he seems marginally more friendly than his father. If you were ever going to climb the corporate ladder to finally move out of your studio apartment, it was right now.

Wearing the tightest, shortest skirt you own with the perfect button up to match, you step into his office after scheduling a meeting with his temporary secretary. When you sit down in the chair across from him, he just sighs and waits for you to speak your piece so he can get back to his grueling job of signing documents that he never reads.

“Good morning, sir. I was just coming up here to compliment you on how well you’ve been running the place since your father stepped down. It seems like company morale is at an all time high, and I can’t imagine thanking anyone other than you.”

“So you want a promotion, right?” He scoffs, grabbing a pen to click repeatedly as you struggle coming up with a response. You weren’t expecting him to be so quick on his feet considering he would stutter over every word talking at meetings. “I assume you didn’t come in here just to kiss my ass.”

“Alright, you caught me, but can I at least make my case?” He looks up from the pen to wordlessly incite you to keep talking. “I’ve been working here since I got out of college. This is really my dream, and it would mean the world to me if I could get farther, work harder, and, if you’re feeling so inclined, get a bit of a paycheck raise.”

“Well, you caught me on the right day, miss...”

“L/n. But you can call me Y/n if you want.”

“Y/n.” Hyunjin puts the pen down and leans on his desk, elbows propping himself up. “If you’re up for the task, I am looking for a new secretary.”

“As I’ve heard.” The rumor has been going around that his father left his secretary for Hyunjin, but all they’ve been doing if fighting, so they had to bring in a temporary one, the one you spoke with, to hold him off until Hyunjin finds a secretary he likes. “Not to be rude, but wouldn’t you rather have a male secretary like your father had?”

“No, no. I know what I want.” He runs his hand through his black hair, slipping out the ponytail that was holding the long strands out of his face. “I want you to be my secretary. No one else.”

He drags his fingers through a stack of papers on his desk, stopping at a five page contract booklet. He slides you the papers and the pen he was just fiddling with.

“If you really want this promotion, you’ll sign on that dotted line right now.”

🖊⌚️🗄🗞🪙📞

Working for Hyunjin wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Once he warms up to you, he’s actually really sweet. If you mess up his coffee or misscedule a meeting, he doesn’t fire you immediately, but rather just assures you that it’s okay and you’ll do better next time, a total 180 from what you saw that first time in his office. After a few weeks, you’re a dream to work with, and the job is a lot less stressful than you had assumed.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was beyond stressed. Meeting after meeting, signature after signature, decision after decision: it was all too much. The only time he smiled was when you brought him coffee in the morning, or when he’d hear your voice through the phone. He always looked forward to seeing you, even if it was only for a brief minute. You were really the only thing keeping his sanity together.

“Here’s your coffee, sir.” You put the cup on his desk as he reads a random document. He thanks you, as usual, and takes a quick sip before immediately regretting his decision when he felt his tongue begin to burn. You quick go to his mini-fridge and pass him a water bottle, standing back as he gulps half of it down to relieve at least some of the pain. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for it to get that hot!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Don’t worry about it.” He sits back in his chair and slowly turns to you, meeting your eyes in a light-hearted stare. He laughs before finally speaking again. “You’re holding this company together, you know that?”

You laugh right with him, rolling your eyes at his statement. “Oh please, I just forward emails all day.”

“No, I mean it.” He holds his hands out and grabs yours, interlocking your hands in a soft grip. You could easily move back, but you don’t want to. “Without you, I’d be losing my mind.”

“Aw, you’re too kind.” You stand in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say next. The silence isn’t awkward by any means, but you can’t help but wonder why you’re holding the hands of your boss. “You’re doing very well, though. You have some big shoes to fill, and I feel like you’re doing the best you can.”

“Of course you’d say that. You work for me.” Hyunjin lets go of your hands and leans back in his chair again, crossing one of his legs over the other and lazily putting his hands behind his head, lounging back. “Y/n, can I say something crazy?”

“Say whatever’s on your mind, sir. I’m all ears.”

“Ugh, drop the formalities. Just call me Hyunjin, okay?” You nod, letting him continue with his speech. “I really appreciate you, Y/n, and it’s no secret that my family is loaded, so I want to ask if you’d come live with me downtown.”

“W-what?” Your eyes practically bulge out of your head. Living with your boss sounds absolutely insane, but any chance to get out of your shitty apartment is promising. This is the opportunity of a life time, no doubt, but is it worth taking? “Sir, I...”

“For fuck’s sake, call me Hyunjin.” You’ve never heard him curse before. “Listen, I live in a penthouse on the top story of a high-security luxury apartment complex. I’m all alone in a five bedroom apartment with a full view of the town. Going home alone every night is wearing on me, and it would mean a lot to have someone else there, even just to talk to.”

“I need time to think.” You look anywhere but his eyes as he leans forward and looks up at you from his chair.

“Take your time and think it over. I’ll give you until the end of the day.” Hyunjin turns back to his desk and looks at the paper he was reading before he burnt his tongue. “Go back to your office for now, but right after your shift, I want you here.”

“Yes, s-... okay, Hyunjin.”

🖊⌚️🗄🗞🪙📞

Everyone is gone except you, finalizing one last email before heading up to Hyunjin’s office. An office with no workers is eerie to say the least, and as you take the elevator up to Hyunjin’s office, you can’t help but notice how nervous you feel inside.

This is the right decision. As difficult as it might be, you’re going to say no to his offer. It’s extremely unprofessional to have any sort of out-of-work relationship with your boss. Thinking back to the outfit you wore when you took the promotion, it’s no wonder you assume you’ve made Hyunjin think you want this. Your apartment may be shitty, but at least it’s yours. Living with Hyunjin would cause too many problems in your life, and the last thing you need right now is problems.

He was waiting for you. With his head in his hands as you walk through the door, he darts his attention to you as you sit across from him. While it was certainly a familiar sight by now, he was just glad you didn’t run away from him after such an intense morning.

“Hyunjin, I just want to-”

“Stop.” He holds his hand up, pausing you mid-sentence. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I’m just stressed, and I’m not thinking clearly. I shouldn’t have offered you to live with me. That’s not who I am, nor is that something I should have sprung on you like that.” He reverts back to his former position with his head in his hands, staring down at his desk. “I just... I’m so lonely.”

You feel for him, you really do. He’s been thrown into this situation obviously not by choice, and he knows absolutely no one he’s working with other than you. With a stressful job and no one to turn to, it was clear why he was acting so rashly.

You pull his hands away from his head, holding them in yours like you did this morning. Rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand, you give him a gentle smile as he meets your eyes. The bags under his eyes are present, and his tiredness is visible. He looks so worn out to you. You really do feel bad.

“I’m not asking you to move in, but would you like to come back to my penthouse? Just for tonight?” He returns a smile to you, lowering his gaze blankly. “We can have a few drinks and talk. I just need someone with me right now.”

“Only if you’re paying for the taxi.” You two laugh together, appreciating each other’s presence.

“I’ll have my chauffeur drive us back to my place, and afterwards, he can drive you home.”

🖊⌚️🗄🗞🪙📞

Saying that Hyunjin’s apartment was massive would be an understatement. You felt like you walked into a penthouse from a dystopian future with shiny metal counter tops and black leather furniture. It didn’t look lived in, but to be fair, there was only one man living there. You felt cold even though it was room-temperature.

“Follow me, doll.” Hyunjin takes your hand and leads you to the living room to sit on his L-shaped couch. If his pet name didn’t throw you off, you very well would have just walked there without his assistance, but you didn’t know how to react after being called ‘doll’ by your boss. “Want anything to drink? Wine? Vodka?”

“I’ll take wine, thank you.”

“Red or white?”

“Red.”

Hyunjin pours you both a glass and meets you back on the couch, lounging next to you, letting the soft silence fall over the room as you each take a sip of the expensive booze. As you drink a bit more, Hyunjin’s eyes are glued to you, and you start to break a sweat as the temperature in the room seems to rise. He’s just... staring at you. You feel uneasy, but this alcohol should help calm your nerves, right?

Hyunjin easily notices that you’re starting to slip into deeper thought, so he carefully puts his hand on your knee to bring you back into the moment. His gesture isn’t charged in anyway, but you still jolt at his touch. You dart your eyes towards his while looking like a deer in headlights.

“Are you alright?” Hyunjin slides his hand up and down your leg only from your knee to mid-thigh. With his other hand, he puts his glass of wine on the coffee table in front of you so he can totally focus on your needs. Even though you hesitantly nod, he isn’t convinced in the slightest. “You want to know why I invited you here?”

“Sure, Hyunjin. Why did you invite me here?” The more he rambles on, the less you have to talk, so you gladly let him fill the silence.

“Well, to put it simply, I’m interested in you.” You tilt your head in confusion. Was this a confession? “You’re a very intriguing person to me. When you walked into my office for the first time, you suffocated me with your aura. You truly do command a room, you know? That’s probably why you’ve gotten so far in your career.” His chuckle is awkward, and you don’t respond in any way to help his nerves. “You’re a woman that knows what she wants, and I admire that, especially since I don’t even know what I want.”

“How don’t you know what you want?” Your confidence was slowly coming back, although you weren’t sure if it was from the alcohol or your want to pick at Hyunjin’s brain. “You have everything anyone could ever want! Look at where you live!” You gesture to the room around you. The modern art-deco custom paintings, the abstract sculptures, the fake plants that looked too fake to even be considered plant-like. It was a dream, especially for those that lived in the city. “You have the perfect house and the job position people can only dream of.”

“I don’t want this, Y/n.” He stands from the couch, walking over to the wall of glass that separates the living room from the balcony. “This house means nothing. This job position means nothing.” He can’t face you, fearful that you’ll see how weak he is. “I want someone. I want you.”

Silence. You stare down at your legs, unable to even process what Hyunjin just said. Your thumbs rub against each other, fiddling so you can focus on anything else. Hyunjin sighs loudly and turns around, walking back over so he can tower over you. His shadow consumes you, shrouding your figure in slight darkness. A hand slips under your chin, pulling your face up to see him. His eyes sparkle when he looks at you as if he’s enamored by your existence.

“What do I have to do?” Hyunjin ponders, leaning in closer to you. The scent of his cologne clogs your senses, and all you can think about is Hwang Hyunjin. “What do I have to do to have you?”

Your hand goes to his chest, grabbing his tie. You pull him into you, crashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. Hyunjin puts all of his emotion into this kiss, promising himself that he’ll show his love through his actions.

Pulling away, you both catch your breath and enjoy the brief silence. For once, it isn’t awkward; the silence is welcomed.

“Hyunjin,” you twirl his tie between your fingers, “if you want me, then prove it.”

[🔥]

Hyunjin takes your hand in his, pulling you off the couch. He drags you up to his bedroom without saying a word, assuming you know what’s about to happen. His sheets are all black, neatly made without a stain in sight. Hyunjin sits on the edge of the bed, tapping on his lap to invite you to take a seat.

You straddle him, feeling heated the second your thighs come in contact with his. It feels unreal, but you want this now more than ever. You didn’t drink even an entire glass of wine, so you can’t blame this decision on any ounce of alcohol.

“Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” He wraps his long arms around your waist, pulling you into him so your body is pressed against his. “I need to hear you say you want this.”

“Yes, Hyunjin. I’m sure I want this.” You shoot him a smile that never fails to make his heart melt, and he can’t help but kiss you again, his lips perfectly fitting against yours. When you open your mouth to allow his tongue to slip in, he feels like he has reached nirvana. Hyunjin was been wanting this for so god damn long; he could bust in his pants just thinking about it.

His mouth moves from your lips to your jawline, not leaving any hickeys because he knows you have work tomorrow. His kisses along your jaw and neck make you moan quietly, and your hands slip behind his head into his hair. You curl your fingers into his hair, pulling it ever so slightly. He grunts against your neck, sucking harder than before, accidentally leaving a red mark.

He pulls off of your throat, breathing heavily, looking into your half-lidded eyes. Your hands rest on the back of his neck, holding him close to you. Hyunjin smiles lightly and pecks your cheek, making you both giggle from his cute gesture.

“I know I told you not to call me sir, but... maybe just for tonight, you can call me that.” Oh, he’s like that? You kiss him for a moment before pushing him back, his body falling against the sheets. Your body hovers over his, and you roam your hands over his chest and abs, feeling him from over his shirt.

“Alright, sir.” You smile innocently, leaning down, kissing his neck to test his dominance. He doesn’t fuss at this. He accepts your kisses, throwing his head back to give you better access to kiss his neck. Your hands roam all over his body, paying special attention to his chest, or more specifically, his nipples. He groans quietly, biting his lips as your fingers rolls over his nipples. “Oh, you like this?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Sit up. Let me take your shirt off.” He laughs at your commands as he raises his body from the bed and unbuttons the top of his shirt before you step in and unbutton the rest. The slow reveal of his torso his haunting, causing your eyes to dart every which way across his body. He really looks like a Greek god. “This is what you’ve been hiding from me?”

“Oh please, I’ve been wanting to fuck you since I first laid eyes on you, doll.” There it was again. That damn pet name. He really was going to be the death of you, so you might as well enjoy this. “I’ve had dreams of bending you over my desk and fucking you during work, but that wouldn’t be very appropriate, would it?”

You gulp out of nervousness, unsure of where to go from here. You were in control for the moment, but now that Hyunjin was letting his emotions out, you keep getting flustered, wishing he would take the reigns over this situation.

“Aw, is my little doll getting shy?” He brushes his hand across your hot cheek, making you stutter out nonsense. “You’re so cute, baby. I could flip you over and ruin you right now, but we should take our time, right?”

You nod, tracing your hands on his chest again. Your thumb and pointer finger grip his nipples and twist, causing him to arch his back and fall against the bed once again. He’s putty in your hands again, so you up the ante by pressing your heat against his painfully large bulge in his tight work pants, teasing him just enough to make him weak. The sounds he’s making can only be described as sinful, and you love every minute of it.

You dive your head down to his chest, sucking hickeys into his defined pecs. Your tongue around his nipples makes him keen from pleasure, his hands petting your back up and down. When you lean up to look at all the marks you’ve made, he’s desperately trying to catch his breath.

“I was supposed to be showing you how much I like you, not the other way around!” He giggles through deep breaths, running his hands down the sides of your body. “Lay back, baby. Let me take care of you, alright?”

You shrug in agreement, dramatically throwing your body back on the mattress for Hyunjin to pin you down under his lean figure. His gaze eats you alive, skimming over your skin like he was about to devour you.

“You’re absolutely stunning, baby.” He kisses you on the lips, short and sweet, before unbuttoning your dress shirt and revealing your bra, feeling your tits over the fabric. His hands perfectly cup your tits, moving your bra down to play with your hardened nipples. You arch your back into his touch, relaxing and letting him worship your chest. He’s a master with his hands, making you moan and whine just enough for him to get even harder under his tight pants. “Can I take your bra off?”

“Of course, sir. Take it all off for me, alright?” You wink up at him, stirring a fire in his heart. He wants to take you, all of you, inciting him to rapidly strip you of your shirt and bra, tossing them to the side. His lips attach to one of your nipples while his hand goes to the other, playing with the bud between his fingers. His other hand snakes down your body and unbuttons your pants, sneaking down to play with your cunt over your panties. His middle finger pushes your panties into your pussy, saturating them with your wetness. “Please finger me, Hyunjin.”

“Oh, needy already?” He leans up from your chest, sitting between your spread legs as he unbuttons his own pants and pulls them down enough to see his bulge under his tight boxers. He looked so big, bigger than you’ve ever taken. Your cunt becomes drentched in a second of you imagining his cock going inside you. “Staring isn’t polite, you know?”

“S-sorry, sir.” He pulls your pants down your legs, leaving your panties to be the only thing covering you. His hands hug your hips, pulling you right up to him. You feel his bulge against your cunt, making you bite your lip.

One of Hyunjin’s big hands comes down to your cunt, a finger hooking around the bottom of your panties to move them to the side, allowing him to check out your sopping heat. His fingers feather through your folds, circling your needy hole just to tease you. He smiles as you whine and buck your hips up, physically begging him to fuck you dumb.

“My baby’s pussy looks so pretty. I can’t possibly fuck her before I get a taste.” You watch Hyunjin as he scoots down the bed and leans down to be eye-level with your cunt. He licks his lips before diving in, sucking on your clit and running his tongue through your pussy. One arm hooks around your leg while his other comes up to play with your pussy, his fingers teasing your hole before sliding in just enough to make you whine for more. “You’re so sweet, princess.”

“T-Thank you, sir.” You throw your head back when he bends his fingers inside you, curling into your g-spot. Hyunjin hums as you moan loudly, hinting to Hyunjin that you’re close. “C-cum, sir. Need to cum.”

“Aw, my baby’s ready to cum?” Hyunjin teases, going right back to sucking on your clit and mercilessly fingering your tight hole with two fingers. His tongue flicking over your clit is making you so close, your legs shaking as he continues to assault your cunt. “Cum on my fingers, babe.”

Your legs violently shake as you reach your orgasm, all your nerves on edge as waves of pleasure drown your brain. You moan Hyunjin’s name over and over, holding his hair in an iron grip. As you come down, his mouth slowly detaches from your pussy, fully lapping up all your juices.

“Open your mouth.” With your eyes still closed, you open your mouth wide open and let your tongue out, letting Hyunjin do whatever he wants to your mouth. His wet fingers dip into your mouth, pressing against your tongue to make you taste your cunt. You suck lightly on his fingers, tasting yourself before he slips his hand out of your mouth, separating his spit-coated fingers to admire your hard work. “Good girl.”

Your eyes goes back down, staring at the outline of his cock in his boxers. He notices your stare, pulling his waistband down to reveal his long, thick cock, leaking with precum, ready to be stuffed inside you. “W-wanna feel you inside me~”

“Aw, but baby, I’ve fucked you dumb just from my fingers. You think you can handle my cock?” He presses the tip of his cock against your hole, pushing it in just enough to make you whine loudly. He smiles, seeing how fucked out you are so easily. He leans down to your ear, holding your hips in his hands. “Do you really want it?”

His voice is so deep and quiet that it makes you shiver, biting your lips before you can even speak. You breath for a moment to collect yourself. “Yes, sir. I want it.”

“Alright, baby.” Hyunjin gives you a peck on your lips before laying next to you, putting his hands behind his head. You look over at him puzzled, still collecting your breath. “Ride me.”

Hyunjin takes a condom out of his nightstand while you whine and breath more, trying to bring back any feeling to your legs. You regain your strength as he rolls the comdom onto his thick shaft.

You huff and sit up, wobbling before getting balanced on the soft bed. You finally pull off your panties before straddling him. Hyunjin throws his head back as you start to jerk his cock, feeling him twitch in your palm. With your free hand, you pull his pants down more to let you comfortably straddle his hips. As you lower yourself into him, you both groan loudly, you from the stretch and him from the tightness.

Hyunjin’s hands hold tightly onto your waist as you fully lower onto him, halting your movements to allow your cunt to adjust to his size. He bites his lip and stares at your face, admiring your beauty despite your messy hair and sweaty forehead. You slowly raise your hips, gripping Hyunjin’s cock with your cunt as you lower back down.

“You’re so tight, baby- fuck.” Hyunjin’s groans are loud as hell, echoing through the bedroom as you ride him, establishing a slow pace. You feel so full, his tip reaching deep inside you, and you love it. The stretch doesn’t bother you anymore, speeding up slightly. He watches your tits bounce on your chest, teasing him with their perky nipples and forming hickeys.

“Is sir close?” You feel him switch inside you at your question, his eyes squeezing shut as he nods and whines. His grip on your waist looses before his hands fall next to his head. You lean down and pin his wrists to the bed with your hands. Having your tits right in his face makes it even harder to keep his cool.

Suddenly, Hyunjin’s hips buck into you, fucking up into your tight cunt while you force yourself to stay still so he can let out his energy... and your legs were getting tired. He hits your spot with every thrust, desperately fucking you so he can release into the condom. You feel him inside you, his cum ballooning the tip of the condom, making you moan as he whines, saying your name like a mantra. He looks so hot under you, you can’t help but lean down and kiss his pretty, plump lips while he sits inside you.

“I thought I could last longer.” Hyunjin wipes the sweat from his brow as he pulls out of you, pulling off the condom, tying it, and tossing it towards his trash can. “You really know how to break me.”

He doesn’t realize that you’re still on top of him, moving down the bed to take his cock into your mouth. He winces when your hot tongue hits the tip of his cock. You lick up his shaft before taking him into your mouth, testing your gag reflex as you take him down your throat, your nose hitting his pelvis. His hands find home in your hair, pulling tightly as you bob your head on his member.

He’s totally speechless, his brain empty as you suck his cock like a pro. Your tongue feels like heaven on Earth, quickly making him fully hard again and bringing him close to another orgasm. He’s never been over stimulated like this before, whining like a cat in heat as he watches his cock disappear down your throat. You stare up at him, keeping eye contact even if he doesn’t look at you.

He twitches in your mouth, his cock spawning against your tongue as you increase the pace. He bites his lip harsh enough to draw blood as he cums again, your head raising so only the tip is in your mouth while one hand jerks his cock, milking him dry. His vision is fuzzy, mind even foggier. He can’t believe you just did that without a word.

You swallow his cum, wiping the drool off of your chin as you hop up and lay next to him, nuzzling into his chest. He puts an arm around you while you two cuddle in silence.

“You’re really good at that, Y/n.” He huffs, smiling as he looks down at you who’s drifting off to sleep. “Are you gonna sleep over?”

“I was hoping I could. And who knows? Maybe we can fuck in the morning before going to work.”

“Fuck, work.” Hyunjin sighs loudly before groaning from the reminder of all of his stress. “This won’t change our relationship ship at the office, will it?”

“Not publicly, no, but if you ever need to releive some stress during the day, just invite me up to your office and I’d be happy to help you, sir.” You both laugh, finally at ease in each other’s arms. As you drift to sleep, you can’t help but be excited for the proceeding weeks at your work.

This is exactly the raise you needed.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fan fiction #skz fan fiction #skz imagines #skz imagine #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #skz #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin

585 notes · View notes

lokiondisneyplus · 3 years ago

Text

Loki director Kate Herron’s heart was beating fast. She’d already had some surreal experiences during her short time in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, so a simple phone call shouldn’t make her nervous. But on the other end of the line was Owen Wilson, an actor and writer she admired and hoped would join her on a time-jumping journey through the MCU.

“It was the most detailed pitch I’ve ever done, to an actor, ever. I pretty much spoke through the entire first episode with him,” Herron recalls of wooing Wilson, who wasn’t too familiar with Marvel before being cast as Mobius, an agent for the mysterious Time Variance Authority central to the series.

Wilson instantly put Herron at ease with his laid-back charm as she walked the actor through 10 years of onscreen lore for Loki, the god of mischief played by Tom Hiddleston. She answered his questions about Avengers: Endgame, about time travel, about how this version of Loki was not the one fans knew from films like Thor: Ragnarok, but rather one plucked from an alternate timeline from 2012’s The Avengers.

It was all part of a whirlwind few years for Herron, who not that long ago was temping at a fire extinguisher company and struggling to land directing work even though she’d already helmed a BBC project with Idris Elba. Then Herron finally achieved breakthrough success directing episodes of the Netflix hit Sex Education and soon was hounding her agents for a Marvel meeting.

When Herron finally landed one, the Loki superfan cleared her schedule and spent two weeks putting together a 60-page document, even though her agents tempered her expectations by noting it was just a meet-and-greet.

“I knew I’d be up against some really big directors, and I knew I wouldn’t be the most experienced in the room, so I [said], ‘OK. I’ll just be the most passionate,'” recalls Herron.

Just a few days after officially landing the job, Herron found herself on a five-hour walk through New York with Hiddleston discussing Loki and flying to D23 in Anaheim to be greeted by thousands of screaming fans alongside Loki head writer Michael Waldron.

Herron is now working long days finishing up Loki in Marvel’s production hub in Atlanta, where the British filmmaker has largely lived since getting the job in 2019. Over Zoom from her freezing Atlanta apartment (she still hasn’t figured out the quirks of the air conditioner), Herron dives into Loki ahead of its June 9 debut on Disney+.

What was your process of sitting down with Marvel for this?

I was just so overexcited. [My agents] were like, “Look, it’s just a casual conversation, they just want to get a sense of you,” and basically I was like, “OK, I’m just going to pitch them.” Because I thought, they might not meet me again. So I got as much information as I could, and they sent me a little bit about the show. And I just prepared a massive pitch for it. I canceled everything for two weeks. I made a 60-page document full of references, story ideas, music. I knew I’d be up against some really big directors, and I knew I wouldn’t be the most experienced in the room, so I [said], “OK. I’ll just be the most passionate.”

Was that first meeting in Burbank?

That was in England, in southeast London on Zoom. I had a few stages where I did that. Then after a few interviews with Kevin Wright and Stephen Broussard, two of the Marvel executives who got me ready for the big match, I went in to pitch to Kevin Feige, Victoria [Alonso], Lou [Louis D’Esposito], the whole team there. That was very surreal because they flew me to Burbank and I pitched at Marvel Studios. I didn’t have the job, but I found out they were interested and then I remember Kevin Feige called me, and when he was in London, we had coffee. He was like, “Look, we want you to direct it.” Oh my God. They flew me to D23 and that was crazy because I think I found out I got the job 48 hours before, and then I was onstage. The Lady and the Tramp dogs were in front of me and Michael [Waldron] on the red carpet. “What is going on?” (Laughs.) I met Tom that week as well, so it was a bit of a whirlwind kind of thing.

📷Herron, Waldron and Feige at D23 in 2019.

Where did you first meet Tom?

I had a two-stop trip. I flew first to New York to meet Tom. He was in Betrayal at the time, on Broadway, so we basically went on this amazing walk around New York. I’d never met him before. We just spoke about Loki and what was really important to us about the character and where we thought it would be fun to take him, as well. It was this intense, five-hour conversation with him basically. I met him and then flew straight from meeting him to D23. So it was a lot. (Laughs.)

When did you finally get the scripts? How did that change your thoughts on what you want to do?

They sent me the outline, so I knew the overall story. I also was pitching stuff. “Oh, we could do this with this character.” The pilot was really well written by Michael and I really liked what they were doing with the character and the story. Then it was building upon that and throwing in ideas for where he could go later in the show. It reminded me a bit of improv where you’re always building, always trying to push the story to the best place. So we were always adapting and shifting the story. Our lockdown, during COVID, was a chance for us to go back in. I was cutting what we’d done, so I was like, “OK, this is tonally what is really working for the story.” Then we went back into what we hadn’t filmed and started adapting that stuff to fit more where we were heading.

The Marvel movies have a writer on set to help tweak things. Was that the case with Loki?

Michael [Waldron] was with us at the start, and then he went on to Doctor Strange [in the Multiverse of Madness]. We had a really wonderful writer called Eric Martin from our writers room, and he was our production writer on set. It was between me, him and my creative producer Kevin Wright. We would kind of brainstorm and adapt. I’ve always loved talking to the cast. We had such a smart cast. Owen is a writer as well. If you have that amazing resource, why not talk to them? We were always adapting. Obviously paying respect to the story we wanted to tell from the start, but always trying to make it better.

📷Herron on the set of ‘Loki’ with Hiddleston and Wilson.

Kevin Feige has said Owen Wilson, like his character, is nonplussed by the MCU. Since Owen isn’t necessarily dazzled by Marvel, does that make him all the more perfect for this role?

He is playing a Loki expert, so at the beginning of production, Tom and I were talking. He devised this thing called Loki School. He did a big lecture to the cast and crew. I love the character. This is a decade of fans loving this character and where that character has been. It was talking everyone through that, but through Tom and his own experiences. Stunts that Tom liked or costumes. He ended up doing that same Loki school for Owen. Owen absolutely loved it. Owen has such a writer’s brain. I remember I had to pitch him down the phone. My heart rate [was up].

Was this the pitch to get him to get Owen on board?

Yeah. I love his work. “Oh my God, I’m going to talk to Owen Wilson.” He’s so laid back and nice, it immediately puts you at ease. It was the most detailed pitch I’ve ever done, to an actor, ever. I think I pretty much spoke through the entire first episode with him. You can tell he’s a writer, just by the way he attacks story. His questions about the world and the structure and the arc of the character. It was really fun to work with him.

Was it the most detailed pitch you’ve ever done because you really wanted Owen, or because you knew you needed to woo him a bit to get him to sign on?

It was the questions he asked, and the way he attacked story, in that sense. And also probably because he was newer to the Marvel world, he was like, “OK, how does this work?” I also pitched him Loki’s arc over the past 10 years, where that character has gone, but also explaining our Loki and what happened in Endgame and time travel. There’s a lot to unpack in that conversation.

Sometimes Marvel will give writers or directors a supercut of all the scenes of a specific character. Did you get one of those?

They didn’t actually give me a supercut, but I’m a big Loki nerd. I think his is one of the best [arcs] in the MCU. I really wanted to make sure we were paying respect to that. At the same time, something Tom spoke about a lot was you have to go back for a reason. Let’s be united on what that reason is and feel that it’s worth it.

The reason can’t be, “Well that’s what happened in Endgame,” so the question becomes, “What is the point of revisiting him at this era of his life?”

Yeah. He’s only had — I don’t want to get this wrong — I think 112 minutes of screen time in total if you cut all his scenes together. And he steals the show. We have six hours to really delve into this character and talk about him and go on this completely new story with him. For me, it was making sure that [we’re] paying respect to what has come before — I know as a fan if there is a character I really loved and I found out they are making a show about him, I obviously would be so excited and so happy. I felt lucky to have the responsibility, and I took it very seriously.

Those who have worked with Kevin Feige say he’s someone who can stress test an idea and push things in new directions. What have you found working with him?

Something I always found was we would sometimes pitch something, and it would be at a good place, but he’d always be like, “OK, that’s great, but push it further.” Sometimes I’d pitch stuff and be like, “This is too weird,” and he’d say, “No, go weirder.” He wants to tell the best story and I found it really helpful having his eye across everything and the fact that he does challenge everything. Tom as well, on set. He brings this amazing energy and this great A-game that causes everyone to rise to the occasion.

How do you know when you’ve got the perfect Hiddleston take? Is he asking you for one more, are you pushing him to do one more take?

By the end, it was almost telepathic. We would kind of know. We would look at each other. “We could go again,” or, “We’ve got it.” It’s different with every actor. There are some actors who will come in firing and they just want to go for it. But they don’t want to do a million takes. There are other actors I work with who are very meticulous and they want quite a few to warm up and get into it. It’s actor-dependent. The way me and Tom are similar is we are both very perfectionist. We are both very studious. (Laughs.) We definitely connected in that sense. He’s a very generous actor. I remember one day, we had quite a few of our actors coming in as day players. It was really important for him to be there for them, to read lines offscreen. He would have to be 50 places at once, because he is the lead actor. The most amazing thing about him was his generosity. Not just to the other actors, but also to the crew, to be filming in a time like COVID.

When you make an Avengers movie, you get a big board with every character that’s available, and whether the actor’s deals will allow them to appear or if that would need to be renegotiated. Loki is smaller, but was there any equivalent for you? Was everything on the table? Was only some stuff on the table? I imagine if Chris Hemsworth has his own new Thor movie coming up, he’s not going to be on the table, necessarily.

I felt like everything was on the table if it meant it was good for story, and Marvel would be like, “We’ll work it out.” Me and the writers, we never felt restrained in that sense. Honestly, it always comes back to story.

What is your relationship with your editor as you finish this up?

We have three editors, Paul Zucker, Emma McCleave and Calum Ross. My relationship with all three of them is very different. Emma and me are very close because she was also in Atlanta away from home. I got to know her very well. I love working with the editors because it’s a fresh pair of eyes. You get so deep into something when you are filming, it’s almost like writing it again when you are in the edit. Stuff does change. Even some episodes, we’ve reordered the structure. Or we moved scenes from one episode to another episode. I’ve always loved the editing process. The best thing is someone honest who can be like, “Hey, this doesn’t quite make sense to me,” or, “This isn’t working.”

What are you going to do on premiere day? Will you be on the internet at all to see the reaction?

I’m actually working. I’m still finishing the show. My last day is the day the second episode airs. I’m going to be working that day. Sadly, I’ll probably check in on the internet a little bit, but I’ll probably go to bed when I finish because I think I’ll do a 12- or 13-hour day or something. I can’t remember. I’m really excited for people to see it and just to bring it out in the world, really.

Everyone wants to know about spoilers, but what’s something you wish you were asked about more when it comes to Loki?

Kevin Feige said, “We make movies. We want to run it like a movie.” So unlike a lot of television shows that are showrunner-led, this was run like a six-hour film. As a director, you don’t often get to do that in a television-structure show. I really enjoyed it, having a hand in story and just how collaborative it was. Also, just beyond that, directing the equivalent of a six-hour Marvel movie was incredible for me. That’s something I found interesting about it. Making something the Marvel way.

In terms of the themes, I love gray areas. The show is really about what makes someone truly good or what makes someone truly bad, and are we either of those things? Loki is in that gray area. It’s exciting to be able to tell a story like that. As a director and a writer, you don’t necessarily understand why you are making these stories. Something I keep getting drawn back into is identity. Sex Education, we spoke a lot about identity and feeling like an outsider but actually finding your people. I feel the same with Loki. It’s a show about identity and self-acceptance and for me, that’s also what drew me in.

Gray is a good way to describe Loki. Your version of Loki just tried to take over the Earth not long ago.

Exactly. This isn’t the Loki we’ve seen. How do we take a character that people love, but from a lot earlier, and send him on a different path? That for me was interesting, getting to unpack that. Alongside that, getting to set up a whole new corner of the MCU with TVA. That to me was so exciting.

What about the Teletubbies? You referenced that recently and it made quite a splash. Are you going to leave people in suspense on that?

I referenced the Teletubbies once and people were like, “What, Teletubbies? What does this mean?” Maybe I should leave people in the air with it. One thing I would say is the show for me, stylistically — I wanted it to be a love letter to sci-fi because I love sci-fi. Brazil, Metropolis, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Alien. If people love sci-fi, they will definitely see the little nods we’ve got across the show. People will know what it was a reference for when they see the show. It was a visual reference to something in the show.

Interview has been edited for length and clarity. Loki debuts on Disney+ on June 9.

#Kate Herron #Loki #interview #loki series

101 notes · View notes

americasmarauders · 4 years ago

Text

I Had a Dream--Jason ToddxReader.

Summary: She dreamed about him once. And then he appeared in front of her and she just couldn’t believe it.

words: 9,756

author’s note: so, here it is. the last of this year. this one is special. it’s based on a dream i had with a guy I went to middle school with. I mentioned it on the group chat and @batarella said this sounds like a fic, write it. and so I did. It’s immensely personal. Basically reader is me, the friends I mention are my actual friends and the coversations with the therapist are vaguely based on conversations I had with my own therapist (specially the first one). I hope y’all like it. I had a blast writing it. Special thanks to my best friend Julia and @offendedfishnoises for proofreading it. Also thanks to every one in the group chat who cheared me on and made me finish this monster.

don’t forget to check out my jason playlist here. also. please reblog so more people can see the fic :)

“I just haven’t had the opportunity to be in love, I guess,” she explained, her psychologist writing stuff she had said down.

“Is that so?” the therapist lifted her eyes, her eyebrows shot up in confusion.

“Yeah,” she shrugged.

“‘Cause the way I see it is you’ve never allowed yourself to fall in love,” the therapist commented.

She felt heat coming to her cheeks and tears rise in her eyes. “No, no, that’s not like that,” she whispered, refusing to admit that her psychologist was right.

The therapist let out a small sigh. “Have you had crushes when you were a kid?”

She shook her head. “The boys weren’t that nice and…” she drifted off, thinking of a couple of crushes she might have developed when she was a young teen. “No boys were interested in me.”

“I find that hard to believe, Y/N,” the therapist said. “Let’s think of it this way: were there any boys who picked on you?”

She snorted. “Plenty,” she responded. “I wasn’t exactly popular in middle school,” she shrugged.

“Yes, yes, I remember,” the psychologist said.

“There was one boy that used to run around recess calling me a weird nickname he had for me: peanut.”

“That’s not weird,” the therapist pondered.

“It is when you’re 13 and you love eating packed peanuts in recess,” she countered.

“Well, this boy did you like him?” the therapist asked.

“Yeah, he was nice,” she omitted that she had a crush on him in ninth grade before she left the school and never saw him again. “He was one of the few boys that talked to me without wanting me to help him with his homework or anything.

“I remember one day in eight grade he stopped to talk to me before class but I was kinda rude to him and he never really talked to me again,” she shrugged.

“Why?” the psychologist quizzed.

“I thought he wanted something out of me,” she sniffed, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face. “They all wanted something out of me. It was safe to assume, I guess.”

“You scared the boy away, Y/N,” the therapist said kindly. “I think that boy liked you,” she finished.

“No, no, Todd, he--” she shook her head negatively, “he was kinda popular, I was a nobody. He didn’t like me.”

“He liked you, Y/N.”

That conversation stayed in her head for days. The words of her therapist echoing in her head. You scared the boy away. The truth was: she had scared the boy away. It was heartbreaking to think that she could have had what she wanted, a romance, someone to hold and to be held by. Instead she was alone, an adult who had never even dated anyone for that matter.

It wasn’t just that boy from middle school. It was every boy that ever tried getting too close to her. It would be comical if it wasn’t so tragic. A romantic at heart, completely alone. Thank god she had her friends.

She hadn’t thought about Jason Todd in years. He hadn’t so much as graced her thoughts since she last saw him in ninth grade. Then she dreamt of him. And things started to change.

In her dreams she was his girlfriend. He was loving, he would caress her delicately, look into her eyes lovingly as if he was seeing the whole world in her eyes. He would kiss her tenderly, she could feel his lips when she woke up.

He had gotten so big in her dreams, even more handsome than he was when he was 15. Jason was a lanky and tiny kid, but somehow her brain imagined him tall--very tall--and very muscular. His eyes were green, and not the blue she remembered. He looked beautiful and waking up after the dream, she could feel her heart race.

After she dreamed about him the first time, she dismissed it. It was her brain making weird connections, it made sense: she had talked about her pseudo-love life and about him that week. But after the second dream she knew there was something wrong.

She decided to look him up on the internet. What appeared wasn’t something she liked.

News coverage about how he had died mysteriously. ‘Adopted son of Bruce Wayne dies at age 16.’ She couldn’t help but tear up a bit on those headlines. The most recent ones though reported him being wrongfully declared dead and how he was estranged from his family. It even showed a couple of pictures of him and she was surprised to see her dreams were not very far off.

Other than a couple of tabloid headlines, there was no trace of this guy on the internet. He was almost a ghost story, and she felt her heart beating faster in anxiety. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for him.

She otherwise forgot about him--other than the occasional thought about what if that would cross her mind. That is, until she literally stumbled into him.

A part time job to help with the finances, that’s what working in the bookshop was supposed to be. It would help pay tuition and her insurance. Her parents had said that she didn’t need to do it, they could pay and it wouldn’t even make a dent in their bank account. But it wasn’t for them, it was for herself, a sense of achievement.

It was supposed to be just that. No meet cutes, no falling in love in a bookshop, just boring old work. Work for half of the afternoon, close up, get her salary and move on with her life.

The shop was quiet that day. No one had come in to buy or even browse anything. It didn’t really bother her. She occupied herself with other things: homework, studying, drawing, texting her friends, the list was endless. She was so engrossed in her drawing, she didn’t even hear the bell ringing and the door opening.

She heard someone clear their throat and she looked up from her drawing to meet their eyes. She gaped a bit as she met his gaze, intense blue eyes meeting hers. She closed her mouth quickly, trying to cover the fact that she was clearly staring at him. The gods must be really enjoying themselves playing with her life like that. Of course, she thought, of course that he would fucking appear in her life like that: out of nowhere. The one day she had a calm evening and Jason Todd, the guy who was haunting her dreams and thoughts like a ghost, appears.

“May I help you?” she asked, professionally, ignoring her racing heart and the anxiety increasing in the pit of her stomach.

“Yes,” he replied. “I’m lookin’ for the complete H.P. Lovecraft collection. I stopped by the other day and a guy separated it for me,” he explained. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, and she hoped that he hadn’t recognized her.

“Oh,” she said. “Wait a moment, I’ll check if it’s in the back.”

She walked controlled, to mask the fact that she wanted to run out of that place as fast as she could.

She closed the inventory door and leaned her back against it. She breathed heavily, trying to calm herself. It was only a guy, she had talked to plenty of guys before. She calmed herself down, steadying her breathing.

She glanced around the shelves looking for his book. The sooner she ended this the better. She could move on with her life without his face haunting her. She found the book (almost like a brick). She got it and took a deep breath before stepping out of the inventory and calmly walking to the front desk.

He stood there calmly , his eyes glancing around the shop. He had picked another book to buy, something significantly smaller than Lovecraft's collection. She itched to see what it was, before catching herself and stopping her curiosity. She couldn't get attached, even if just a little bit.

"Here," she said, resting the book on the counter. She smiled at him kindly, her hand open for the book resting in his hands. He handed it to her, confusion plastered on his face.

"It's 60 dollars," she stated, calmly and controlled.

He handed her the money. She accepted it and packed his books neatly. He clocked her moves as she did so, she felt a bit uncomfortable under his gaze.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" He asked. "I feel like I know you."

She gulped imperceptibly. So he had recognized her. Goddammit. "I don't think so," she replied, hesitant on whether or not he would see right through her lie.

He hummed. His eyes then shifted down to her name tag, and she knew he had put the pieces together. "Did we go to school together?" He insisted.

She smiled tightly. "I don't know, probably," she shrugged. "I went to a pretty big school, there were a lot of people there," a lie. Gotham Academy was big, but it was nowhere near as big as she made it sound. It was the kind of school where you knew everyone, even if you had never talked to them.

He smiled at her coyly, sensing her awkwardness. Maybe it was just that that made him finally remember her, or maybe not. Either way she did not like that he indeed recognized her fully. "I remember you," he trailed off. "We had English together," he stated.

She pretended to search her memory for him. She couldn't give away that just days before she had dreamed about him yet again. How pathetic, dreaming about a boy from middle school. "Oh yeah," she dragged. "Jason, right?"

"That's me," he whispered. "I thought you had moved."

She smiled, it was cute that he remembered enough of her to know that she didn't stay in Gotham for a couple of years. "I did move," she explained. "I came back for college."

"Why?" He asked, confused by her statement. "Gotham is a shit city, you should've stayed elsewhere."

She tried not to take offense to it. "It has its appeal," she shrugged. "Besides the science program in Gotham U is very good, it was the best move."

Jason smirked. "Science huh?"

"Yeah," she breathed out. She slid the package to him, a sign that she maybe was done talking.

Thank the gods his phone rang. She couldn't handle anymore of that. She averted her attention once more to her drawing, his voice talking angrily on the phone only a background noise to her. "I gotta go," he said and her eyes went back to him. "It was good seeing you, Y/N."

She tried not to notice how her heart picked up the pace at the sound of her name leaving his lips. "You too," she smiled shyly and he left the store, the bell ringing as he closed the door and her mind plagued by the image of him.

If she thought Jason Todd had plagued her mind and dreams before she had seen him at the bookshop, now he was downright living in her head rent free. She just couldn’t get him out of her mind. The dreams about him, the ones where she would be tenderly loved by him, were getting more frequent and more intense. When she woke up, she would still feel his arms around her and an emptiness would settle in her chest.

Why did it have to happen to her? She just wanted to go through life unnoticed, why did the gods have to pull this prank on her?

She huffed as she closed the shop, the sky already dark enough to be considered dangerous to stay out. It was only a couple of blocks to her car, she could get through the walk unscathed, she had done it before.

But then again, it seemed that Fate had it out for her.

She could feel someone following her the moment she had left the shop. The looming presence of a threat made her hyper aware of everything, her heart beating out of her chest. She tried to think of ways to lose the guy--she assumed it was a guy, it usually was--but her mind came blank. She thought in passage if her friends would miss her, who would contact them if she were to die. She shook the thought quickly out of her head and hastened her pace.

But the guy gained on her, and as soon as she could blink, she felt his arm snake around her neck. She gasped for air desperately, clawing at his arm trying to take it off. It was then that she felt a cold metal press against her back. A gun. She felt the tears coming to her eyes. If the guy were to pull the trigger, the best case scenario was she wouldn’t be able to move her limbs anymore. The worst, well, who would tell her friends she had died in a robbery?

“Give me your bag,” the guy--now confirmed for his gruff and raspy voice--whispered in her ear.

“Please, take it,” she begged. “Don’t hurt me.”

She heard the guy scoff as he pressed the gun further on her back. She whimpered. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice laced with malice.

It was then she heard a loud bang coming from behind her. She thought the guy had pulled the trigger, and she was ready to feel the wetness of her blood sipping through her clothes. Instead, all she felt was a splash on her shoulder and his grip on her loosening considerably. The guy had fallen to the ground behind her, clutching his shoulder and screaming in pain. She turned around to see him and a pool of his own blood forming beneath him. She was paralyzed in fear of the sight.

“The police’re on their way,” a distorted voice sounded. She looked up and found a massive man, standing menacingly on top of the thieves body. His red helmet glinted in the moon’s glow. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly.

She breathed out. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I--I--,” she teared up again, “I would’ve died. You saved my life.”

“It’s what I do,” he shrugged. “I’ll walk you.”

“How about the…” she pointed towards the guy laying on the floor in pain.

“If he wants to live to see another day, he’ll stay exactly where he is,” he said, his voice serious and threatening.

“Shouldn’t I give the police a statement?” she whispered.

She swore she heard a chuckle of amusement through the voice disruptor he had in his helmet. “I have a video to prove he was tryin’ to rob you, you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna,” he explained softly. “So, wanna lead the way?”

She looked down at her feet, nervous to look at him. She nodded and started to walk once again towards her car. He walked behind her respectfully, and she felt the difference between him and the robber. He wasn’t trying to get something out of her, and his large physique felt like there was a literal wall following her to her car.

It was a blink till she got to her car. Her hand rested on the door handle and she gave a deep breath, trying desperately to calm herself, trying to remember the breathing exercises her psychologist had taught her. She opened her mouth to say something to the Red Hood, her eyes searching for him next to her.

But he was gone. And what was left was just the memory of him in her mind.

“So how was your week?” her psychologist asked, sitting on her armchair, Y/N sitting cross-legged in front of her.

“Crazy,” she rolled her eyes in disbelief, her mouth quirking in a weird shape. “So much stuff happened.”

“Oh do tell,” the psychologist urged her.

She sighed, thinking where to begin. “Well, you remember the boy I told you about?”

“Yes, Jason wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” she popped. “He showed up at the store the other day.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was, honestly,” she replied breathily. “I didn’t even realize he had come in.”

“No way,” her therapist responded in disbelief. She seemed invested in the pranks the fates were pulling on her patient.

“I was too invested in my drawing, mind you,” she smiled. “It’s been weeks since I’ve done a decent piece of scribble so I was excited.”

“Yes, yes right,” her therapist acknowledged. “And how about Jason? Did you talk to him?”

“Briefly,” she responded. “I was hoping he wouldn’t recognize me, but he did.”

“What did he say?” she quizzed, making notes on her paper.

“He asked if he knew me, which I denied at first,” her psychologist looked at her angrily and she shrugged. “Then he finally placed me and asked what I was doing in Gotham. I answered, said I was in college. He said I should’ve stayed elsewhere ‘cause Gotham apparently sucks.”

“He isn’t wrong,” her therapist pondered.

“He isn’t but I like Gotham,” she shrugged once again.

“Did you get his number?” her therapist quizzed her.

“Nope,” she denied. “He left pretty quickly.”

“Why don’t I believe that?” the psychologist smiled.

“It’s true!” she laughed. “He answered a phone call, got angry at something I didn’t really understand and left pretty quickly.”

The therapist hummed. “You think you’ll see him again?”

“I don’t know,” she sniffed. “He got pretty big books when he appeared, I think it’ll be a while before he needs another.”

“You never know,” she conceded. “What if he does? Do you imagine what you would do?”

“I mean,” she trailed off, “what I want to do is talk to him and maybe ask for his number,” she finished coyly. “What I will do is be very weird and awkward and scare him off.”

“Y/N,” the therapist warned. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know, I know,” she waved off. “I won’t do it. I’ll try to be friendly.”

“Good. What else happened this week?”

“Almost died,” she swallowed, nervously, “quite literally, I’m afraid.”

“What?”

“Was leaving the store, it was pretty early in the night, I think. And a guy got me by the neck and pressed his gun to my spine,” she recounted quietly. “I thought I would die.”

“But you didn’t,” her therapist comforted her. “What happened after?”

“The Red Hood showed up,” she sniffed. “Shot the guy in the shoulder and then knocked him out.”

“When did that happen?” her therapist’s voice was filled with worry.

“2 days ago,” she replied quietly.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” the psychologist cooed. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” she nodded, her eyes filled with tears that did not dare to spill. “The Red Hood was very gentle, he walked me to my car and made sure I was safe.”

“Uhum,” the therapist hummed, jotting down something. She always wondered what her therapist wrote down about her, but maybe it was for the best that she didn’t know what was written down.

“I did some research on him afterwards,” she diverted the subject out of her. “Turns out he’s very famous for protecting street kids.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” she nodded enthusiastically. “There’s a couple of stories going around social media of people who witnessed him, you know…” she trailed off. “He seems to look out for people in poorer neighborhoods. Like Crime Alley. He seems very active there,” she added.

“I didn’t know that,” the psychologist said.

“Yeah, you’d get mistaken by the bat symbol on his chest, but there’s very few reports of him getting involved in Batman-esque adventures.”

Her therapist laughed. “And what might those be?”

“You know,” she shrugged. “Aliens, psycho-clowns, riddles, those kinds of stuff. Although there are a couple of people that said he did have a crazy huge fight with Black Mask once, there doesn’t seem to be any other. If there is, he sure made a good job hiding it.”

“You seem very excited about this Red Hood,” the therapist noted.

“He was nice,” she shrugged once more. “And I’m thankful he does what he does. I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t,” she added quietly. “Literally.”

“Well, then we got to make sure you live your best life after this second chance you got granted.”

As soon as the words ‘what if you see him again’ left her therapist’s mouth, she knew she would see Jason Todd again. Because the Universe was out for her like that. It was only a matter of when.

Turns out ‘when’ was a week later after the first time she saw him. She concluded he was either a hoarder or a very fast reader. She hoped it would be the latter.

This time, she was paying attention. She was organizing the shelves calmly, and as odd as it seemed, that was the best part of her job. It eased her anxiety to know everything was where it was supposed to be.

She jumped at the sound of the bell, her heart beating faster and her mind racing at the worst case scenarios. But it was just him. And she was entirely relieved that it was just Jason. She settled the book that was about to go on the shelf--‘there you go Little Women, back to where you belong’--and got out from behind her hiding spot. “Hey, Jason,” she said and his eyes found hers.

He opened a smile that knocked the air out of her. “Oh hey,” he breathed out.

She swallowed her nerves down. She would make her therapist proud, goddammit. “How can I help you?” she asked, opening a smile she hoped it was charming.

“I finished the books I bought the other day,” he said, his face a tad bit nervous. Did she make him nervous? “Do you have any recommendations?” he finished, his hands shoved in his pockets, shifting his weight slightly.

“It depends what you’re looking for,” she trailed off, returning to behind the shelves. Her fingers trailed lightly over the spine of the books she had just organized. She heard him walk behind her accompanying her to wherever she intended to go. “What are you looking for?” she turned around to see him, and saw him gulp nervously.

“Romance,” he blurted out. “How about a romance?”

“Ummm,” she hummed, her eyes once more trailing over the spines of the books. “A love story or a real romantic type of book? You know with loads of self pity and drama. Or maybe just a very long and nice novel?”

He laughed airly. “Surprise me,” he teased, and it seemed all his nerves were gone.

She smirked. “Okay then.” She pulled a book off the shelf. It wasn’t a big book, it couldn’t be longer than 300 pages. She gave it to him. “Epitaph of a Small Winner,” she said. “A romance, a realist one but nevertheless a romance.”

He grabbed the book, looking tiny in his big hands. His fingers tracing the title delicately. “What is it about?”

“A dead person narrating their life and reflecting upon it,” she shrugged. “A very interesting read indeed, but you’d have to do a bit of research. It’s set in 1880s Brazil.”

“I’m okay with that,” he smiled looking at her. “Any more recs?”

“Not for now,” she smirked. “How else am I going to have you come back if I give all my recommendations at once?”

His smile faltered for a split second before taking permanent residence on his face. “Who’s to say I wouldn’t come back even if you did give me all your recommendations?”

She was left speechless. She felt heat coming up to her cheeks and he looked somewhat proud he left her flustered like that. “Well then, do make sure you come back after you’ve finished.”

“I will, Y/N.”

Jason didn’t know why he went back to the bookshop. He truly didn’t.

He wasn’t expecting to see her working there. He wasn’t expecting to see her at all, actually. He barely even remembered her from his middle school days. He vaguely remembered finding her pretty and he knew she was very smart. Other than that, she was basically a stranger to him. Just like that version of himself was a stranger to him now.

It was a surprise to say the least. She had grown up marvelously, from what he remembered at least. She wore glasses now, and in his opinion it only made her prettier. His breath caught in his throat just remembering the sight of her that first time. His brothers caught up in his behavioral shift, and teased him endlessly. Jason stopped that rather quickly: it’s easy when you’re bigger and more intimidating than them. It also helps that they’re desperately trying to maintain the thin and fragile relationship they had.

Jason wanted to say he hadn’t rushed to finish those books to see her again, but he did. He wanted to say he hadn’t rushed to read her recommendation, but he did. He finished it in a day. He wished he had read it sooner. Somehow he felt like that sometimes, a dead man narrating his own story. At least he was strikingly different from the protagonist. At least he wasn’t an asshole. Not most times anyways.

He went back to the shop the next day, around closing time--he realized they were closing early and he wondered if it had anything to do with the incident Y/N was involved in. He was sure she would be there. Something told him that she would. He got in, as quietly as he could. The store was empty, after all it was a Thursday afternoon. The door made the usual bell sound behind him, and Y/N appeared behind the shelves, her face stony.

“I finished it,” he said with a smile.

She smiled back at him, and his heart did a somersault. “That was fast, it is not an easy read.”

“Well, it was a very good book,” he pointed. “It’s easier when the book’s good.”

“What did you think of it?” she asked curiously.

“It’s very complex,” he began. “You want to believe Brás but he’s just so….”

“Insufferable?”

“Exactly. And he’s a hypocrite too. Which just drives me fucking nuts,” he ran his hands through his hair. “The parallels you can make to the present, though, are just… very daunting,” he added. “It’s impressive the guy wrote this stuff in the nineteenth century and...” he trailed off.

“Society hasn’t changed one bit since then,” she completed him, her eyes glinting. She was smiling pleasantly, and Jason found it confusing, after all they were talking about something entirely serious. “So, you here for another rec?” She changed the subject.

“If you have one, I’d like that,” he said sheepishly.

She smirked. “Let’s see,” she moved to behind the shelves once again, her eyes trailing the books expertely. “How about a nice little love story, huh?”

He shrugged, his heart beating harder in his chest. “Sure, why not.”

She smiled at him and took out a yellowish cover with a dagger drawn across it. The title was written in the middle of the cover in nice flowery letters. “It’s about a girl that has a special power. And she kinda is trained to be an assassin of sorts, and she is set to a quest with a prince that has the same gift as her. Kinda. But you get the gist.”

“Yeah, I do,” he nodded, his fingers trailing slightly over the title.

“It’s an YA novel so be kind to it,” she warned.

“I’ll be.”

They both made their way to the cash register. She was behind the counter when Jason’s phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and answered it without even looking at the caller. “Hello?” he said, trapping his phone between his shoulder and ear, to fish the money for the book out of his pocket.

“Is this Mr. Todd?” the person--a woman--said.

“Yes. Who’s speaking?” he asked. Jason could feel anxiety rising in his body and mind and he tried to push it down. Who the fuck was this person and, most importantly, how the fuck did she get his number?

“I’m Principal Genoise-Beckham, from Gotham Academy,” she explained. What kind of name was Genoise-Beckham? “I’m calling because of your brother Damian. He got into a fight during the end of the school hours and you’re the next on his contacts list.”

Jason sighed, a twinge of anger sounding through it. “So no one’s available?”

“I’m afraid not, Mr.Todd.”

Not even Alfred, and he knew that for a fact because Jason was the last on the contacts list. Bruce wouldn’t put him any higher, because Bruce doesn’t quite trust him. Not anymore. “I won’t have to sit through any meetings right?”

“No, Mr. Wayne already arranged one,” the principal said, tiredly.

“Tell the kid I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” and then he hung up.

She looked at him quizzically, his book neatly packaged in parcel paper with a nice little bow on top of it. “Is everything okay?” she asked, concerned.

“My brother got into a fight at the Academy and now I have to pick him up,” he said grumpily.

“Oh,” her face fell, and Jason felt guilty. “I hope your brother’s okay.”

“The little shit probably is,” he gritted through his teeth. He saw a twinge of sadness go through her expression. “Listen,” he started, “I really wanted to stay, but if I don’t pick him up, it’ll start a whole thing with my family and I…” he didn’t complete but he was sure she understood.

“It’s okay, Jay,” it was the first time she had called him by a nickname, and his heart beated faster at the sound. “I was about to close up anyways.”

“Oh,” he breathed. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, her eyes a bit glossy.

He turned around, his book on his hands, when he heard a small ‘Wait’. Jason turned back to her, she was looking at her feet, maybe embarrassed that she had called him, maybe she just didn’t want him to go. He didn’t want to go either. “Can you give me a ride?” she asked. “I mean, I live pretty close to Gotham Academy, it wouldn’t be too much of a detour.”

His heart picked up the pace, and he fought a smile. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

She smiled at him. “Great,” she replied. “I just need to pick up my things and we can go.”

She was very quick. She turned the lights off of the entire store and returned to the front desk with a small backpack and a few notebooks in hand. She smiled at him. “Lead the way.”

Like the gentleman he was raised to be, he took the notebooks from her hands and led the way, Y/N only a few steps behind him. She fished out a key out of her pocket and locked the front door. She tied a chain around the doorknob in a very specific way that almost seemed like a sailor’s knot. She put a locket in the end of the chain, and dragged a metal door down, then locking it to the ground. It seemed excessive, but it was Gotham, and Jason knew first hand what the city was like.

They walked a few doors down. Jason’s car glistened in the fading sunlight. He was fucking proud of that car. He had fixed everything in it, he knew that machine inside out. He made it what it was, a beautiful and powerful car. It was one of the few things he had done he felt proud of it.

He unlocked the doors with the alarm--yes, a 1962 black Corvette with electronic alarm, he had done that--and he heard a gasp beside him. He turned to see Y/N and her eyes glistened with amazement. “What?” he asked, confused.

“You have a ‘62 Corvette?” she asked, shocked.

“Yeah,” he dragged, still confused.

“I fucking love this car,” she said completely ignoring him and getting closer to the car, analyzing it carefully. “It’s so beautiful.”

“It really is,” he got around it, looking at the street to see if there were any cars coming down. He then opened the door of his car and got in. “Get in,” he smiled at her.

She opened a beaming smile. She opened the door and sat on the passenger seat, her bag resting on her feet, her notebooks now on her lap, she noticed the roof of the car on--the better option for the approaching winter--the head rest he had added, the bright red color of the leather seats, and the original panel, even though she knew he most likely altered everything behind it. She looked like a little kid in it, and Jason could get used to the sight of her beside him.

He started the car and she squealed excitedly at the sound of the motor. He looked at her, a small smile on her face. “Is it the original motor?” she asked. “It doesn’t sound like it, it sounds electrical.”

“That’s ‘cause it is electrical,” he responded. “The original one was very poluent so I switched it.”

“That’s so cool,” she said, closing her eyes. Jason hinted she was trying to hear the sounds of the car, like someone you’d listen to music. “This is so cool,” she breathed out.

He hummed in amusement. “Never met someone who was as passionate about this car as me,” he noted.

“You didn’t meet people with good taste then,” she joked. “I’ve loved this car since I was a teen. Always wanted one, but I never had it in me to buy it.”

“I found this one in a junkyard basically,” he said. “It was in pretty good condition considering where it was. Spent a year tryin’ to fix it to the original conditions, gave up and then another year buildin’ it to what it is today.”

She looked at him, he noticed out of the corner of the eye, incredulously. “You’re so fucking cool, Jason,” she said. “You’re beyond cool, you’re just…” she trailed off. He looked at her quickly and she had a shy smile and she was looking at her hands.

“Thank you,” he thanked her. “People haven’t found me cool in,” he let out a breath, “forever.”

“Well, you haven’t been walking with very nice people then,” she said. “No offense to your friends, but you’re just… you’re special, Jay.”

And, fuck, did he love hearing that from her. She left him speechless. She turned to him and saw his stony expression--an expression of panic and chock, not of disgust as she thought--and she inhaled sharply. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” she said, desperately trying to correct her mistake. “I said too much. Forget I said anything, please,” she completed, smally.

“It’s okay, love,” he replied softly, the car stopping slowly at the intersection. He turned to her. He grabbed her hands, that were twisting nervously in her lap--a nervous tick he remembered noticing she had in school--and looked at her softly. “You’re fucking special too, Y/N.”

She looked at him and her eyes filled with tears. “I--” she hesitated. She smiled at him, sniffing and wiping her eyes with one of her hands, the other still intertwined in Jason’s. “Thank you,” she said. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

He smiled at her. “I’m just saying the truth, love.”

That made her even more flustered. “You’re just being kind,” she said, shyly, looking at her hands entangled with his. She removed her hands of his, the traffic light turned green and Jason resumed driving the car.

“No, I’m not,” he denied her. “I’m telling you the truth. You’re special, and you’re amazing, Y/N.”

She shook her head in denial, her bottom lip trapped by her teeth. “I’m not all that great,” she whispered. “I’m pretty annoying in fact. You just haven’t seen it yet.”

“I don’t believe you. Why’d you think that?”

She shrugged. “When you spend your whole childhood and teenagedom hearing that you’re nothing but an annoying crybaby nerd, you start to believe it at some point.”

Jason swallowed tickly at her remark. He couldn’t believe what she had just said. “Who said that to you?”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to worry,” she replied, dismissing his concern. “It’s over now.”

“But it still hurts you,” he noted. He noticed how this could easily apply to him. How he easily would get worked up on the little things Bruce would mention and Jason would brush it, say it’s over, it doesn’t matter, when it clearly does. It fucking does.

She looked at her hands, and sniffed. “It’ll always hurt, I guess.”

Jason was rarely speechless. But, at that moment, he didn’t know what to say. Because he remembered hearing those things about her. He remembered people talking about her in that way, saying she was weird, and that they only talked to her when they needed help with homework. Admittedly, he never ever said those things about her--he didn’t even believe those things--but he never said a word to those who called her that. And that, arguably, was worse than saying those things.

He struggled to conciliate that guilt with the fact that he didn’t even feel like that boy--he wasn’t that boy anymore. That boy died by the hands of a clown. What had emerged from it was something entirely different. And yet, he still felt guilt over something he hadn’t done when he was that kid.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Jay,” she said, her hands finding his, on the gear shift. “You didn’t do anything.”

“But I--” he started, “I didn’t say anything about it. I knew about those things and I didn’t stop them.”

She looked at him, and he saw by the corner of his eye. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sure you were going through other stuff and you just wanted to fit in.”

How was she so fucking understanding? He scoffed lightly. The thing is: he wasn’t trying to fit in, he was trying to stay out of sight. So he just listened and said nothing. “How are you so good?” He said, incredulously. He was the first person to say Gotham was rotten, head to toe, and yet there she was, fucking pure soul.

“I guess I just am,” she shrugged.

And then they fell in a comfortable silence. Her hand was still in his, and he fought the urge to bring her knuckles to his lips and plant a kiss on it. Every now and then he would steal glances at her, and he swore she was glowing in the orange sunlight peaking in the window.

“That’s me,” she said, pointing to a tall modern building a block before Gotham Academy.

“That’s a big fancy building,” he noted slowly.

“It’s one of my parents’ apartments,” she explained. “I live in it rent free, but I have to pay for electricity and food and stuff. It was the condition for using it. They insisted they’d pay the tuition and I demanded this apartment in return, ‘cause I wanted to pay the tuition and they wanted to--” she trailed off noticing a weird look in his eyes. “I’m sorry I ranted.”

“It’s fine, I like to hear you talk,” he said, smiling.

She smiled back, looking at her feet. “Well, I should get going,” she said opening the car door. “Thanks for the ride, Jason.”

“No problem, love,” he shook his head slightly, and looked at her softly.

“Yeah,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on his, already out of the car. “Bye,” she finished awkwardly and quickly walked to the building.

Jason watched as she floated to her home, mesmerized by her.

Fuck.

“Red Hood has been following me,” she manifested her psychologist looking at her with wide eyes. “It’s weird to say it out loud.”

“Why do you say that?” her psychologist asked.

“‘Cause I’ve seen him,” she replied. “A couple of times actually.”

“Are you sure?” the therapist asked.

“Yes, I am,” she nodded enthusiastically. “I just don’t get why he’s following me.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be a good guy?” her therapist quizzed. “Following people doesn’t seem like a good guy thing to do.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m not scared though. I know I should be, but I’m not,” she commented. “I know I haven’t done anything wrong, there's no reason for him to be following me, at least no reason like that. I don’t know,” she sighed, “maybe he just wants to be my guardian angel,” she shrugged.

“It sure is a weird angel,” the therapist noted. “Have you talked about this with Jason?”

“I did mention it to him,” she nodded. “But he got all weird about it and changed the subject quickly.”

“That’s strange.”

“Yeah, he definitely knows something about this,” she said smugly. “I really want to find out.”

“Well, on the topic of Jason,” her therapist said as if she hadn’t brought him up, “how’s things with him?”

“They’re okay,” she shrugged. “He comes to see me at work almost every day. Then he walks me to my car or gives me a ride home.”

“I see,” the psychologist noted. “And what do you guys talk about?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled under her breath. “Mostly about books. Sometimes about life,” she recounted. “He’s very reserved. He doesn’t talk much about himself.”

“And you? Do you talk about yourself?”

She hesitated. There was no point in lying to her therapist, it would go against the very definition of therapy and if there was one thing she hated was hypocrisy. “No,” she shook her head quietly, “I-- everytime I try, something happens and…” she shrugged. “I guess I’m too scared of scaring him off.”

“Y/N…” the therapist warned. “You need to open up to him. How do you expect him to stick around if you don’t share things about you?”

“To be fair,” she said raising her finger as if it would make the point she was about to make more believable, “I’ve talked about myself once with him and it was… fuck, it was hard.”

“How did he react?” the therapist inquired. “Was he a dick?”

“No!” she was quick to reply. “He was the sweetest. But I’m just…”

“Depriving yourself of a potential relationship,” her therapist completed for her. “You’re sabotaging yourself, Y/N.”

“No, I’m not,” she denied, fooling herself. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up and end up heartbroken.”

The psychologist sighed. “I know you’re scared of getting hurt, but you’ll never know unless you let him in,” the therapist stated. “You might be pushing him away and sabotaging yourself when investing in this relationship could very well be something right for you,” she finished.

“I know,” she mumbled. “But I just,” she sighed, defeated. “I’m scared.”

“I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to try,” her therapist added softly.

“Okay,” she nodded, softly.

She waited at the edge of her seat for Jason to come in at the store. She was going to try. Fuck, she hoped she didn’t mess anything up. Up until that moment she didn’t know what she was doing, she just did it. She hoped she knew what she was about to do.

The bell rang and Jason walked in, his hair swept by the chilly wind and his hands stuffed in his jeans’ pockets. He wore that leather jacket she loved so much, it made him so much more beautiful. She just wanted to grab him by his shirt and kiss him to no end. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

“I was waiting for you,” she announced happily.

“Yeah?” he said, leaning on his elbows. His face was inches away from hers. His pupils were blown wide, his blue eyes twinkling with something she couldn’t quite place yet. “Excited for the next rec, huh?” he smirked.

“No, actually,” she corrected him. “I needed to tell you something.”

“Oh,” he said. “Go ahead then, I’m all yours.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her heart racing at his comment. She swallowed nervously, looking him in the eye. This was it. She was going to open up to him. “I was talking to my therapist actually,” she started, “and we agreed--actually no,” she laughed. “She said that I need to open up and be vulnerable more. And it may seem a bit weird that I’m saying this to you but I swear there’s a reason. So here it goes,” she breathed out. “I really like you, Jay. Like, really really like you. And I’m sorry if I’ve seemed weird or standoffish or anything, I’m trying to work on that. So if you want to, I don’t know, take this, um, friendship somewhere else, maybe somewhere romantic, I’d be, you know, happy to take it there too. With you, I mean.”

He smiled genuinely at her. His eyes shifted to her hands. She was twisting her fingers nervously. He rested his hand on hers, her hand immediately relaxing under his touch. “I’d like that,” he responded quietly. “Wanna go on a date tonight?”

She smiled, her eyes a bit teary. Her heart raced in her chest, the worst case scenario hadn’t come true. He liked her too. He wanted to date too. Her anxiety was wrong. Thank God for that. “Yeah, I do,” she confessed.

His smile got bigger somehow. “Great,” he breathed out, and she could feel the nerves leaving his body. “I’ll pick you up at 8,” he stated.

She smiled at him. “Great.”

“I need you to cover patrol for me,” Jason said to Tim, his phone pressed between his shoulder and ear. He carried a bouquet of flowers, bags from the market and a suit he had it pressed and sent to the Iceberg Lounge.

“Why?” Tim quizzed him.

“‘Cause I have a thing,” Jay responded.

“Yeah, Imma need more than that, Jay,” Tim said. “What thing?”

“You’re a little fucker”, he answered, resting the bags on the floor. “You just want gossip.”

“No, I want a reason why I’ll have to add the Narrows to my patrol tonight,” Tim argued. “It’s quite far from my usual route, y’know.”

“Fuck you, Tim,” Jason muttered.

“Why such hostility?” Tim teased. Jason could practically hear his brother’s smirk over the phone. “Is someone going on a date tonight?”

Jason exhaled deeply, trying not to lose his temper and drive to Wayne Towers to choke his brother to death. He was on a schedule, he had dinner to prepare. “Will you cover for me or not?”

“Will you tell me why you're ditching patrol?”

“No,” Jason gritted through his teeth.

“Then no,” Tim said plainly. Jason knew he was messing with him.

Jason sighed. There was no way he’d cancel on Y/N. Not because his motherfucking brother was toying with him. “I swear to God, Drake, if you tell anyone I'll kill you the most painful way possible.”

“So you are going on a date,” Tim stated.

“Fuck,” Jason sighed. “Yes, I am. Now, please Timothy, would you cover patrol for me tonight?”

“Who’s the girl?”

“Tim,” Jason started.

“Or boy, I don’t judge.”

“Will you cover the motherfucking patrol?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim dismissed.

“Thank you,” Jason sighed relieved.

“Will you introduce me to t--”

Jason hung up on his brother. He had a date to get ready to.

Jason spent the rest of his afternoon getting everything ready for the date. The food, the flowers, the ambiance of the roof. Everything was perfect, just like she fucking deserved.

He was nervous out of his mind. His hands were sweating and he couldn’t stop running his hands through his hair in a nervous habit. It was so long ago the last time he had gone on a date with someone he cared this much about. He didn’t want to screw it up.

She was so precious, so good. He didn’t know what someone like her saw in someone like him, someone tainted and broken. But she saw something, and she wanted him. And he wasn’t dumb, he wasn’t going to let her go. Even if everything in his life told him to run from her, protect her from a distance, don’t get close ‘cause she’ll become a target.

And he was doing just that, he was protecting from a distance as the Hood. He was being fucking dumb about it too, cause she had seen him more than once. But being distant was not enough, not anymore.

So there he was, in front of her apartment, black ‘62 Corvette, crisp black suit and blood red t-shirt. His hair was messy and his hands were in his pockets. He leaned on the hood of the car, waiting patiently for her to come to his encounter. He was early anyways, he could wait, even if he hated the looks of pity he was receiving. She would come and those fucking pedestrians knew nothing.

She opened the doors and stepped on the sidewalk. She was wearing a beautiful red knee-length dress with black heels and Jason was just paralyzed at her sight. Fucking hell. How can someone be so perfect? How can someone so perfect want him?

She stopped in front of him, a smile framing her face beautifully, her glasses crystal clean. “You look great, Jay,” she stated.

“I--” he opened his mouth but no words came out of his mouth. Her face fell and her eyes flashed with worry.

“What’s wrong?” she said. “Is everything okay?”

He breathed out and smiled at her. “Everything’s perfect, love,” he said. He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles gently. “You look breathtakin’.”

She looked down shyly. “Thank you, Jay.”

He opened the door of the car for her. She thanked him kindly, and he closed the door for her. He entered the car and started the engine. “Where’re we going?” she quizzed him.

He looked at her with a smirk. “It’s a surprise,” he stated. “It’s part of the charm.”

She smiled at him. “You don’t need to surprise me to charm me, Jason.”

“Cute you think that, but you’ll see,” he responded. “This is going to be a perfect night.”

She looked at him and sighed quietly, like she was considering something. “It’s already perfect. I’m here with you,” she said coyly.

Jason looked at her quickly, her gaze fixed on him. He smiled shyly. One of his hands left the wheel and found hers, holding it tightly. He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed it softly. He wanted to say three little words, and he almost did. But she was too precious and he couldn’t just waste those words in a moment like this, an immature moment at that. No, he would cherish her like she was supposed too. He would love her in secret for now, and when he was sure she reciprocated his feelings he would say it with all his heart, he would shout it from the highest rooftop.

But, for now, he just looked at her, hoping his look was enough to say what he couldn’t. She smiled like she understood what he was trying to say.

Yeah, she was perfect. He wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers. Fuck the voices in his head saying to run. For once in his life he was going to welcome this feeling with open arms.

“So, how was your week?” her therapist quizzed.

“It was great, actually,” she said. “Jay took me to the museum in Metropolis. I did well in a test and I got my salary early so I bought a new pin for my collection.”

“You’re sure spending a lot of time with Jason,” the psychologist noted.

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed softly. “I really like him, you know.”

“I do know,” the therapist replied. “How does it feel to be in a relationship?”

She looked down at her hands, flustered. “It feels nice and weird and...and…” she trailed off. “I have no words to describe it.”

Her therapist smiled at her. “He seems like a nice guy, Y/N,” she commented. “How do your friends like him?”

She twisted her hands nervously. “Henry was suspicious of him at first,” she started. “You know, Jay’s a bit shy and intimidating, Henry was concerned he’d hurt me.”

“And how did you react to his concern?”

“I mean,” she shrugged, “it’s a valid concern. But Jay wouldn’t…” she hesitated. “We’ve talked about this, y’know? He knows where I stand, he knows where my fears come from and he gave me his word,” she sniffed, her voice strained. “He promised. And so far he didn’t break any of his promises.”

“You do trust him a lot,” the therapist noticed.

“I trust him with my life,” she added. “I hope he doesn’t break that trust.”

She hummed and wrote something down. “What about your other friends?” her therapist questioned. “I know Henry means the world to you, but he’s not your only friend.”

“Julie thought he was okay and the other boys were just very neutral about it,” she explained. “You know how they’re like. As long as I’m happy they’ll be supportive.”

“Are you happy?” the psychologist inquired.

“Yeah,” she replied enthusiastically. “Fuck yeah. Jay’s just… He’s the best, you know. He gets me. He’s respectful and he’s smart and handsome. I really like him.”

Her therapist smiled. “I’m glad you’re happy, Y/N,” she said. “It’s been a long time coming.”

“It sure has,” she chuckled quietly.

“How about the Red Hood?” the therapist asked. “Have you seen him lately?”

“All the time,” she replied. “Ever since I started dating Jay, I’ve seen the Hood when I wasn’t with him.”

“Doesn’t that concern you?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s weird but it doesn’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “He seems familiar, you know? Not because I’ve seen him up close or seen him more times than I can count but…” she pondered. “His posture and his stance, it’s so so familiar to me. I wonder if I’ve met him as a civilian.”

“You could have,” her therapist pondered. “How does Jason think of this?”

“He doesn’t,” she answered. “He always changes the subject very quickly every time I bring it up.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yep,” she agreed. “I know he’s up to something. I just haven’t had the courage to ask him. Yet.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jason messed up. He messed up bad.

He could live with the fact she had seen him a couple of times lurking in rooftops making sure she was safe. He could live with the fact she was onto him, that she knew he was hiding something from her, something related to the Hood. Jason knew eventually he would have to tell her, this double life would become unsustainable, and he’d have to merge it into one. As much as he dreaded that day, he would fucking do it.

But when she sat him down in her living room and said that she knew he was the Hood, he knew, he was fucking sure, he should have been more careful.

“I’m not mad, y’know,” she said quietly. “I get why you hid from me.”

Jason remained quiet, trying to make sense of his thoughts. “How did you find out?”

A smile passed on her face. “You were just so familiar, I guess,” she explained. “You felt so familiar even from afar. So I just started connecting the dots.”

“I see,” he whispered. His heart beated faster and faster with anxiety. He couldn’t handle it, he thought he would have more time to tell her. He hadn’t realized she could very well discover on her own, he had given her enough clues to do just so. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s fine, Jason,” she replied quietly. “You don’t need to feel sorry.”

“I feel like I should,” he said. He sighed and grabbed her hands softly. “I owe you an explanation, Y/N.”

“You don’t owe me anything besides your safety,” she cut him. “I don’t care about what you do at night, Jason. I care about you, I--” she looked at him, trying to search for something in his eyes. “I love you, Jay. And I don’t think I could bear to lose you.”

Jason opened his mouth in shock. He wasn’t expecting that. “I love you,” he replied to her. “I’ve fucking loved you ever since I laid eyes on you, Y/N,” he grabbed her face and rested his forehead on hers. “I was just so scared to let you in on the secret. ‘Cause I know of the dangers, I know first hand how fucking dangerous this life is, and loosing you would kill me,” he explained. “For the second time,” he whispered.

Her hands rested on his cheeks, her thumb caressing him gently. She kissed him, softly, and he reciprocated it.

“I want to tell you,” Jason whispered, against her lips. “I have to tell you, how I became what I became.”

“You don’t n--” she began.

“I do, though,” he interrupted her. “I do,” he whispered. He sighed, and looked down. He held her wrists carefully. “If you don’t want to see me after everything I tell you, I’ll understand. I won’t blame you.”

“Imma stop you right there,” she looked him in the eyes. “You think I don’t know anything, but I know a couple of things, Jay. I did my research on the Hood,” she commented. “You don’t scare me.”

“There are things that I’ve done that…” he shook his head.

“It’s okay, Jay,” she said softly. “One step at a time, love.”

So he took one step at a time. He told her everything carefully. Some details were left behind, he couldn’t say them out loud, not even if he wanted to. She held his hands through it all, and he was truly grateful for it.

“I had no idea,” she whispered. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

“You don’t have to be,” he shook his head and squeezed her hands. “It led me to you.”

author’s note: here is the link to my jason playlist once again and the link to my masterlist.

#my masterlist #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #Jason Todd #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you

216 notes · View notes

rpmemesbyarat · 4 years ago

Text

Hello Tumblr people. I’m 31 years old and I’ve been on Tumblr since 2014. That’s not really old, and that’s not really a long time, but I know it’s older and longer than a lot of other folks. Tumblr is a space mainly populated by teens and twenties, and I know when I was in that age group, I thought 31 was a Real Adult (TM) Which, shit, it’s not, it’s really not, especially not for me, but nonetheless, I have learned some things in my time that I wish I could impart to my younger self, and instead will impart to y’all. Take what you like and what works for you and leave the rest, I’m no expert or guru or authority on anything, I’m just trying to be helpful. Being nice costs nothing. I once was standoffish to someone who came and chatted to me in IMs. That guy later died. True story. I feel terrible about it to this day. I was wary and kind of snotty in those days and I regret that. It’s one thing to be careful about strangers approaching but that wasn’t what I did here. It costs nothing to be nice. It costs nothing to be friendly. To do stuff like show interest in others, care about what they have to say, comment when they share things about their day. These are tiny things that cost nothing but give so much. Don’t pass the opportunity by. And definitely don’t snub someone for no reason. If you don’t want to interact, you don’t have to, but don’t be cold about it unless it’s legitimately because you’re uncomfy with this person and want them to go away. Your safety and comfort do come before any obligation to be nice, but I hope it’s clear that’s not what I’m talking about here. Be a candle that lights other candles. You know what else costs nothing? Encouragement. There’s nothing stopping you from telling others what you like about their content, what they post, what they create, what thoughts they have, the things they say, or just how passionate they are about something. There’s nothing stopping you from saying you hope the best for someone going through a rough time, or how cute their pets are, or how you’re glad they got themselves a treat today. You don’t need to be someone’s therapist ---I know I sure don’t have the emotional energy for that--or have solutions for them, you don’t need to force yourself to say anything insincere or that you don’t have the spoons for, but when you can, say something positive to others. First impressions can be wrong but gut feelings are often right. Like I said, being nice should NEVER trump your own comfort or safety. If you get weird vibes from someone, book it. Sure, you could be wrong. I’ve been wrong about a lot of people. I’ve also been right about others, and should have left when I had the chance before they could prove to me how right I was. Technically, there was nothing stopping me. It was online, after all. I could have just vanished and they’d probably never have tracked me down or made contact again. But I was lonely, and socially awkward, and like many people, most of my human contact was online, and I thought that this was worth it. It’s not. Whatever kind of friendship or therapeutic RP or free art or support or compliments or advice you’re getting from someone online. . . it’s not worth it if they’re mean or creepy too. Whatever you are getting, you can find it somewhere else, in someone else, who won’t make you have to put up with that kind of crap for it. If something feels wrong, don’t wait around for it to get worse. Yes, you may be incorrectly judging a situation and running from nothing, but it’s better you run from nothing than NOT run from SOMETHING. And I know that things like anxiety disorders, trauma, and just different communication styles can make it hard to judge these things (I’ve thought people didn’t like me before just because they were far less effusive in their typing style than I am, and I was wrong) but if you really feel uncomfortable, like this person has said mean or sexual things to you, it’s not just the brain weasels telling you lies. If you’re truly in doubt, get another person’s opinion, but also don’t let them convince you “it’s nothing” if it feels like something. Trust yourself. Creeps, like children, will test your boundaries. Kids will do shit just to see what they can get away and how far they can push you before you put your foot down. Creeps are the same. They’ll start with stuff that you can easily ignore, brush off, and put up with without feeling it’s worth ditching the whole friendship over. But they’ll rarely let it stay there. They’ll typically escalate it if they’re not rebuked. Rebuke them. It can be scary. It can be hard. I know this. I know it firsthand. But feel no sympathy. Feel no fear. Tell them off and pack your bags. They want to know how much you’ll put up with? Show them----nothing at all, that’s what. Don’t be afraid to change your views but don’t feel the need to broadcast it. I’m never getting a personal Tumblr. Because I’m glad they weren’t around when I was a teen. I would have posted things I don’t believe now. Same for when I’m in my 20s. And I bet that will the be the case in my 40s, 50s, and 60s too. Our lives are journeys of changing, learning, and unlearning. And that’s great. But if you post every step of your journey for the world to see, there are those who will use it against you, even if it was stuff from years ago that you should be applauded for growing from, not derided for having ever believed in. Not to mention that what’s the most up-to-date woke terminology and politics changes very rapidly, and what was acceptable when I was a teen is not the preferred lingo now, and it’s likely going to keep changing, and there will be people who find your posts and don’t care about that either. I realize Tumblr gives us a format to metaphorically scream our present beliefs and show how right what you believe is, and the urge to reblog when you see something you agree with wholeheartedly is strong. And if you’ve got a blog that doesn’t easily connect back with you, or you don’t plan to have for the next five years, or whatever, go ahead. But if your blog can be easily connected to you, and therefore could be connected to you again in the future, it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit judicious. I’m not saying “don’t take a stand on anything ever because you might change your mind and/or someone might drag you”, I am saying that in the age of cancel culture and people deep digging for ancient receipts, young people are no longer getting to have their journeys, with all their rooms for fuckups and re-thinkings, that I and those before me got to have, and I think that sucks. By all means, take a stand on what you believe in now, fight for it with all your heart, just also don’t make it too easy for other people to use it against you should you ever change your mind---and don’t be afraid to change your mind either, even when it’s against the grain of what’s presently popular opinion. Find things out for yourself when possible You know how when they taught you things in school about history and America and whatnot and now you’ve found out that there’s so much they DIDN’T tell you, and at least half of what they did is a very edited sack of hooey? Well, the same is true of Tumblr, Facebook, and other online spaces as well as real life. We all laugh at our Boomer parents and grandparents who share clearly false stories on Facebook because they can’t tell that it was clearly crafted to incite their anger or endorsement based on how it’s tailored to validate their beliefs, but I see the same thing happen here. Loads of tale gets touted as “true” on Tumblr because they have been made to appeal to us emotionally by validating our beliefs. But just because our beliefs may be good or progressive or what have you, does not mean that everything that appeals to them is going to be true. When you see a post circulating that claims something really cool about history or such is true, I suggest fact-checking it. This will help halt the spread of misinformation---even if it’s harmless---and help you build your critical thinking and research skills. This does not mean “you must change your views” it means “be skeptical even when something validates your views” People on our own side can lie, and that’s not harmless even if it seems so---contributing to a culture of misinformation is NOT harmless, and we’re less likely to be skeptical of claims that validate what we already believe. Don’t fall for this. That’s all. I hope something in here was valuable to you. If not, thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day!

124 notes · View notes

classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years ago

Text

Meeting and Dating Ace Merrill

(Not my gif)(Requested by a few anonymous askers)

- You’d been out with a few of your friends, visiting a drive in movie theater when you just so happened to catch Ace’s eye. He had to do a double take when he saw you for the first time, since when did Castle Rock have stray models wandering around?

- Well, what’s a guy supposed to do? Not come talk to you? Uh, uh, not an option.

- So, while you were standing at the concession stand, the greaser sidled up to you, leaning against the counter and introducing himself with a charming smile. He made conversation as you waited for your food, sprinkling in little flirty comments and twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers.

- Not too long after, the cashier returned with your order; interrupting the two of you. You gathered your purchase, a bit disappointed that you had to say goodbye so soon.

- Just as you were trying to think of something to say, he asked if he could take you out sometime. The two of you made plans to see each other before your friends urgently called you over. You hurriedly said goodbye to the blonde, giving him a quick apology before heading over to your seat.

“See you around, y/n/n.”

- Once you joined back with your group, they began to warn you about how much trouble your “new friend” was. To be honest, it sort of turned you off of him and rightfully so. A womanizing criminal was not exactly the kind of guy you were looking for.

- With your friends words in mind, you made sure to avoid the blonde, not meeting him for your date and not answering his calls. Unfortunately for you, you’d relinquished just enough information about yourself for him to be able to track you down and by that I mean, he visited your work.

- Finally, you were forced to confront him and admit that, yes, you’d been avoiding him. He seemed more than a little pissed but he tried to be on his best behavior, especially when asking if that mean’t you “couldn’t be friends”.

- You felt bad for jerking him around so you hesitantly agreed to, at least, be on good terms with him. Lets just say you didn’t stay just friends for very long.

- After only a week of hanging out with him, you find yourself fooling around in the backseat of his car. Don’t be too hard on yourself, Ace is a professional.

- You tugged your sweater back on, running your fingers through your mussed up hair as the boy lit a cigarette. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you settled back against the seat, blowing out a cloud of smoke before he spoke.

“You’re mine now, alright?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, a small smile finding it’s way onto your lips. “yeah, alright.”

- And so, the two of you began your “secret” relationship.

- Ace really isn’t too bad, just rough around the edges. You learn to live with his faults and just try to stop him from doing anything too against the law or dangerous.

- He has a cold and tough exterior but his insides are... well mostly the same but with beer, some gooey parts and lots of love for you.

- Can I just say that something tells me Ace is a momma’s boy. Like his family is pretty dysfunctional but his ma means a whole lot to him and she’s the sweetest little woman you’ll ever meet. He’s very excited to introduce you.

- He usually calls you doll, darlin’, angel and babe. You cant decide which ones your favorite, he makes them all sound so good.

- He’s always messing with something, whether that be a car part, knife or something of yours.

- Constant pda. He has his hands on you whenever you let him and will try to sneak some contact whenever you wont. The only reason you wouldn’t let him was if you’re around someone you don’t want knowing you’re together.

- The looks that he gives you in public, oh dear.

- He makes it damn clear to everyone that you belong to him so yes, you could say that he’s pretty jealous.

- If anyone even tries to flirt with you they need to watch their backs while walking home. He’s not afraid to pull a knife on a guy in a bar, what do you think he’d do to someone when they’re all alone?

- You probably get an ‘Ace’ tattooed on you at some point. He’d usually just do something like that himself but he wants it to look nice so he’ll take you to an actual shop; unless of course, you want him to do it.

- He most likely tattooed your name on himself, making you do the first letter yourself. He thinks it’s cute when you keep apologizing for “hurting him”.

- Raunchy compliments. If you’re lucky he’ll just say you “look good” or that he “likes it” when you’ve done something new to yourself.

- Husky morning/late night whispers.

- Sometimes he’ll arrive home late at night, stumble around for a while and then just collapse onto you, falling asleep as you watch tv. He’s usually a little tipsy so you just run your fingers through your hair and let him nap.

- Most of the time he’ll wake up all groggy a few minutes later, throw you over his shoulder and carry you off to your actual bed which is just a cozy tad bit too small.

- He drags Eyeball to the store with him whenever he needs to get you a gift.

“How bout roses? Girls like that kinda shit right?”

- Eyeball probably has a crush on you, he can’t help it; there aren’t a lot of girls in town who are as nice as you, not to mention as pretty.

- All the cobras think you’re adorable and the best girlfriend any one of them could ever manage to get. They grew especially fond of you after you brought them beer when they ran out.

- Trying to stop him from messing with kids. He tones it down, mostly whenever you’re around, but never really quits.

- Fake wrestling. It’s fun to roll around on the floor with you a little, especially when he wins which is often.

- So much sarcasm, if you don’t know how to hold your own then you better learn quick.

- Helping him or keeping him company while he cleans his car. He sprays you a few times with the hose because he’s an asshole.

- He’s made you sit on the hood of his car for a picture at least once.

“I’ll give you two bucks if you let me take one of you topless.”

- He likes standing behind you while you cook and resting his head on your shoulder.

- Cutting his hair for him. There’s something oddly satisfying about sitting in a tiny bathroom with him, balancing on the sink ledge and trying your best to not mess up.

- He doesn’t give a fuck, he’ll buy you pads. Who's going to give him shit for it? His friends? He’ll beat their asses into next week.

- Going to drag races.

- Watching him play pool.

- Rough kisses.

- Hickeys, bruises, and bite marks.

- Sitting on his lap.

- Getting pinned to things because he likes seeing you all flustered.

- Let’s be honest, there’s a lot of sex. The mans horny like 80% of the time. Anything you do turns him on. Thankfully, being good at sex is one of his redeeming qualities.

- He’s the kind of guy to slap and grab your ass in public with no shame.

- Whenever you walk in front of him he tends to pull you back against him so that you’re pressed against his chest. It’s both because he can't keep his hands off of you and because it shows that you’re his to everyone around you.

- Whenever you’re in the car together, he drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh.

- Him doing really dangerous shit and making you worry. He thinks it’s kinda cute when you do, not many people genuinely care about his well being.

- He thinks it’s fun to annoy you so expect him to act like a little shit every now and again, putting things you need on the top shelf and stealing your clothes or towel from the bathroom while you’re showering.

- He’ll usually annoy you until you talk to him whenever you try to give him the silent treatment.

- Your parents found out about the two of you when they caught you making out in his car, a few months into your relationship. It certainly made convincing them that he’s actually an alright guy pretty hard.

- Depending on their personalities, they either made you stop seeing him for a little while as a punishment then tried their best to accept it or they just kicked you out of the house. This was the 60’s after all, most parents were pretty strict and judgmental.

- If they decide to kick you out then you’re moving in with him, plain and simple. You're his girl, he’ll take care of you.

- Fights are rough, like really rough. There’s yelling, insults, things being thrown. It’s just overall not a fun time. Either you or him storm out at some point; if it’s him then you usually aren’t there when he gets back. You go to stay with your friend for a while.

- He calls you constantly and tries to find you whenever you’re out in public. He’s still pissed off but he misses you and feels kind of horrible when he comes home and doesn’t find you there. He’ll usually spot you when you’re walking home and will drive up beside you to try and win you back.

“Get in the car y/n.”

“Get lost Ace!” You shout, spouting off some rant about how you’re through and aren’t coming back.

“That’s bullshit and you know it! We’ll be doing this till the end of time darlin’.”

“This is the last damn time Ace.”

“Come on babe, gimme another chance. Why’d you get that tattoo if you couldn’t handle me.” He joked.

“... If I get in that damn car you promise this won’t happen again?”

“Hell, I can’t promise anything but I’ll sure as hell try.”

- When you guys are in bed he’ll apologize for real, wrapping his arms around you while you lay your head on his chest.

“You do know I’m sorry, right?”

- He’s kind of just your average dirtbag who sometimes takes you for granted, then makes it up to you in some way that makes it really hard for you to leave. You know you should probably ditch him but you just can’t, you love him for better or for worse.

- You probably have a civil ceremony or a really small wedding. He’s not one for stuff that’s big and fancy so something private is ideal for him.

#ace merrill imagine #ace merrill headcanons #ace merrill headcanon #stand by me imagine #stand by me headcanons #stand by me headcanon #80s movie imagine #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon

461 notes · View notes

readiajin · 3 years ago

Text

To Love Herself - Chapter 3: Hello

Synopsis: Following ACOSF until Nesta’s confrontation with Amren. Rather than going to hike and soul search with Cassian in the wild, Nesta uses her powers to disappear.

Masterlist

Chapter 3: Hello

Nesta - After Disappear

“Who the hell are you?”

Nesta jumped to her feet and whirled around.

A woman stood a couple yards away. No, not a woman, a High Fae. The female had dark skin and her tightly braided hair was pulled back, revealing her pointed ears. Despite her ears marking her as High Fae, Nesta couldn’t help comparing her to the Illyarians. She wore fighting leathers somewhat similar to theirs, and they were form fitting around the muscles of her torso and arms. A bow and quiver were slung over her back, with a sword sheathed at her side.

Nesta froze as she silently cursed herself for not having any weapons of her own. She had no idea how she had used her magic before and had very little faith in it if the female decided to attack. She however, had her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised at Nesta as she slowly looked her over.

“Do you speak? I asked who you are and what you are doing here.”

The arrogance in the female’s voice made Nesta grind her teeth but also stand straight and lift her chin.

“You didn’t actually.”

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t ask what I was doing here before. You only asked who I was.”

The female tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at Nesta. “You know I don’t think you are in a position to have so much attitude.”

Despite Nesta’s rapidly beating heart, she forced her face to be impassive as she gave a dry smile. “Funny, I was about to tell you the same thing.”

Nesta wasn’t sure how she expected the female to react, but to burst out laughing wasn’t it. Her laugh was high pitched and infectiously jovial. At least it would have been if it wasn’t at Nesta’s expense. Nesta felt heat rush to her face but retained her still exterior as the female leaned over her knees while attempting to catch her breath.

When she finally calmed down enough to wipe tears from her eyes she took in Nesta again, her face softer than before.

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but you’ve surprised me.”

Nesta had no idea what that meant, but she bit back, “You haven’t surprised me.”

The female snorted. “Nevertheless, if you want to live you should probably come with me.”

Taken aback, it took Nesta a moment to respond, “I don’t need your help nor will I go anywhere with you. Turn around and go back to wherever you came from.”

The female rolled her eyes. “Mother, you are a piece of work, aren’t you? We both know that you didn’t intend to come here or even know where here is. If you want food and shelter and help you will come with me, Nesta.”

Nesta stepped back at her name, trying to call to magic for help but it was silent. “How do you know my name?”

The female’s lips curved it into a tight smile, but she simply shrugged and turned away. “Welcome to the Forest of the Lost,” she said over her shoulder before heading to disappear between the trees.

Part of Nesta told her to let the female go, but another part screamed at her to get answers.

“Wait!” The female stopped. “Tell me your name if you want me to follow.”

The female turned back slowly, a mischievous look in her eyes.

“I’m Thalia. Now keep up.”

•••••

Cassian - After Appear

The Obsidian Isles were named so for the smooth rocks that made up the beaches instead of sand. Flying towards them from above, they looked like dark slashes dividing the rough sea and dense evergreen forests of the Isles.

Cassian glanced at Feyre flying to his right, trying to be calm as he flew towards his heaven and his hell. It had been decided that only Cassian, Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel would go to meet Nesta. Elain had made her feelings clear, and no one explicitly had said it, but it was understood that it is probably better to keep Mor and Amren far away from Nesta.

They had sent Azriel to scout ahead as usual, but the Northern Island and the rest of the Isles were all free of Fae. Azriel could find no evidence that anyone had even visited recently, or where exactly they were expected to meet Nesta.

So now they flew towards the dark beaches, all four of them on high alert.

They landed in the center and examined the tree line. “Anything?” Rhys asked Azriel.

Az shook his head. “Place seems as abandoned and cursed as usual.”

Besides from their location in the cold and gray north, the soil of the Isles were fertile, and the surrounding waters prime fishing. Despite that, no Fae settlement had ever lasted. Stories of tragedies befalling any settlement were plentiful, from lighting burning down a half built cabin to an entire colony disappearing. This fact had been pointed out repeatedly by Mor as she argued with him and Feyre to not be stupid by coming here.

Cassian wasn’t worried, as there had never been any tragedy for someone visiting the islands. Even if there was a curse, Cassian would settle down to stay here if Nesta asked him too.

Stupid. Cassian’s logical voice chided him. He couldn’t let his emotions influence him right now. He was still angry with his family for their mistrust of Nesta, but he also needed to think as the General he was. Nesta had managed to get into Velaris without anyone knowing, at least twice. How many times had she gone there besides the two times they knew about? Cassian didn’t want to consider she had been so close without him knowing while he worried about her, but he knew now not to make assumptions.

“Should we go into the trees and look for her?” Feyre asked as the beach remained empty.

“No,” Rhys replied. “We shouldn’t risk an ambush hidden among the trees.”

Feyre shot her Mate a dark look. “Nesta is not going to ambush us.”

Rhys and Feyre fell silent, speaking mind to mind. Knowing better than to get involved, Cassian turned to the trees again.

Cold winds swept off the sea, making Cassian shiver. As he looked at the trees, his gaze snagged on a boulder about 60 yards away, just slightly beyond the tree line. There was nothing special about it, besides it’s massive size probably being a foot higher than Cassian’s height, and just as wide. But as he stared at it, Cassian suddenly felt a tug in his gut.

“There.” He said, before moving toward it without waiting for a response.

Cassian walked around it, examining the smooth surface for any signs. He met Azriel at the back, as he had gone around the other side.

“Do you see something in this bolder we don’t, Cass?” Feyre asked as she and Rhy joined them.

“I…” Cassian frowned. “No, I thought something was telling me this was it.”

“This was what?” Rhys asked.

“A giant boulder of obsidian, of course.”

The voice that spoke those words did not belong to any of them.

In an instant Rhys had thrown Feyre behind him, his dark power surrounding them. Cassian and Azriel both drew their swords and siphoned up shields around them, jumping back.

However, they all froze upon seeing the figure now perched atop the rock.

Emerie sat there cross legged, an amused look on her face as she looked down on them.

“It really is just a rock,” Emerie said as she hopped down to stand in front of them.

Emerie turned to Rhys and Feyre to bow. “Good to see you again my Lord and Lady.” She straightened to look at Cassian and Azriel, smiling. “You two as well.”

Cassian thought back to the last time he had seen Emerie. After Nesta had disappeared, Cassian had stopped training the priestesses and Emerie. Had stopped doing a lot of things. His last conversation with Emerie had been a couple days after Nesta had gone, when it had become clear to him that neither Emerie or Gwyn had any idea how or where Nesta went.

Azriel had tried to continue to train them all for a while, but between looking for Nesta, Feyre’s pregnancy, the threat of the human queens, Koschei, and the talks with Vallahan, Cassian later learned training had been put on hold. That was another thing for Cassian to feel guilty about after they were also gone.

“Emerie,” Rhys said, looking her up and down. She wore leathers like the ones Feyre had described Nesta wearing, her wavy hair braided with feathers down her back. And the missing sword was hanging from her belt. “What are you doing here?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could Cassian felt the world shift. Every molecule of his being was suddenly pulled to the right as time seemed to slow down and he turned.

“She is helping me show you all what I told Feyre was the truth.”

Nesta said this from 10 feet away, standing between two trees where she had certainly not been a moment before. She looked as Feyre had described. Wearing well worn fighting leathers, molded to show off the sleek muscles of her arms, stomach, and thighs. Her golden streaked hair shone in the sunlight, with a silver feather braided into it. Her smooth skin now had a warm tan, making her glow. Cassian had never been able to take his eyes off her, but now there was no denying how devastatingly beautiful she was.

She stood straight, her arms crossed with the Great Sword at her belt. Her stormy grey eyes were bright like a thunderstorm as dusk as she surveyed them all. Except for Cassian. She seemed to be dutifully ignoring his stare.

“The reason I asked you all here is because this is the meeting point of those within the Night Court who are working with the Rising to steal the Night Court's power.”

“Hello Nesta,” Rhys said, his voice cold. “It’s been a while.”

Nesta took in Rhys with an equal level of disdain as he gave her. After a moment she simply said “Yes,” before turning to Azriel and continuing.

“The fact that your shadows have not picked up this group's activities tells me that they are probably already well established in Prythian.”

“Nesta,” Feyre said, stepping forward. “If you want us to believe you, why not start with how you left eight years ago and what you have been doing since them.”

Nesta sighed. “I ended up on the continent and met some people who… helped me. They also were interested in helping the priestess. Something I understand you lost interest in once I was gone.” Nesta still didn’t look at Cassian but he felt as if she punched him in the gut. “The group consists primarily of lesser Fae who want to upset the hierarchy of power between them and High Fae. Actually they really just want to flip it, and subject the High Fae to the same treatment they revived. They call themselves The Rising,” Nesta rolled her eyes. “So to answer your inevitable question as to how we know this, the former priestesses have been tracking this group's movement on the continent. We intercepted one of their correspondences to a contact here.”

“How do you know they have a source within the Illyrians?” Azreil asked, the only one of them not completely taken aback by Nesta’s explanation.

Nesta nodded to Emerie, who removed a parchment from her pocket. “This is the last message we intercepted,” She explained as she handed it over to Azreil.

Az brow furrowed slightly as he read the paper before handing it to Rhys.

“What is it?” Cassian asked as Rhys got the same look.

“The top part is Illyrian but the bottom part is in a language I don’t recognize,” Rhys explained as Cassian took a look for himself.

The part in Illyrian read: PEAK SUNRISE DROUGHT CEILING

“What is that supposed to mean?” Feyre asked after they translated the Illyrian for her.

“We aren’t sure either,” Nesta said. “We think it refers to another meeting place. And we were hoping one of you knew what the other language was.”

“Amren might know,” Azreil said.

Nesta stiffened at the female's name. “That would be helpful,” She said.

Cassian blinked in surprise. Nesta wasn’t one to appreciate someone else helping, especially Amren.

“And how exactly does the Rising think they can steal Prythian’s High Lords’ powers?” Rhys asked.

“Like I told Feyre before, by finding the physical manifestation of it in Prythian.” Nesta leveled Rhys a glare. “If you know, you might want to check it, and the Illyarians. And look out for Riding members infiltrating the courts.”

Rhys examined Neata with the High Lord stare that regularly brought Fae to their knees. “And what will you be doing, Nesta?”

Nesta held her chin high, weathering the power rolling of Rhys. “My friends and I will be handling them on the Continent.”

Cassian couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh, that’s all?” He growled.

Nesta finally looked to Cassian, her face impassive. That look made his blood boil, in conjunction with how it felt like she was ripping out his heart.

“We have been trying to stop this group from spreading on the Continent for years now. I have no interest in seeing Prythian become subject to their misguided revolution.”

“You sure you and your friends can handle it?” Cassian spit out. “Sounds like you have been failing for years.”

Out of the corner of his eye Cassian sensed Emerie step back. Silver flames danced in Nesta’s eyes.

“We’ve done a lot in the past eight years.” She said in a deadly quiet. “I’ve done a lot of things. I’m doing this to save the lives of innocents. I’m not interested in another war or anything else.”

Cassian fell silent.

In all the times he had imagined seeing her again, it wasn’t like this. He knew she was the queen of pushing people away, but even at her worst he knew what to expect from her. He could take her yelling and cursing at him. He hadn’t really believed Feyre before about Nesta looking good. Hadn’t truly believed she could be happy without him when not a day had gone by where he hadn’t missed her. But Cassian didn’t know how to handle her standing tall, strong, confident, and beautiful, telling him what to do. All without him.

Probably sensing Cassian’s coming breakdown, Feyre stepped forward.

“I’m sorry Nesta, I’m still very confused. How did you get into Velaris, and who are your friends besides the priestesses?”

“You are the one who wanted me to master my powers Feyre. I did.”

Feyre blinked. “Okay but who—“

Feyre was cut off by an ash arrow flying out of the trees to lodge in the middle of her chest.

•••••

Tag list

Thanks for being here :)

@bluassassin @my-fan-side @nehemikkele @vidalinav @dread3r @vasudharaghavan @laylaameer01 @little-shipper55 @aelinchocolatelover @mis-lil-red @missing-merlin @frosted-crackers @swankii-art-teacher @nessiantrashh @camnesta @purpleglitterypinecone @sayosdreams @notjustaverb @madie-max @haepaw @nyelareyelle @audreycressworth @ghostlyrose2

(Bold doesn’t work)

#nesta archeron #acosf #acotar #cassian #nesta x cassian #emerie #readiajin

36 notes · View notes

smokahuntis · 4 years ago

Text

Weightless

Nothing Personal

Pairing: Javier peña x reader

Warnings: set last name, cursing, mentions of sex and death. Masterbation, night mares.

Summery: he embassy calls in a new agent to assist agents Peña and Murphy

Authors note: I’m back and I’m going to try and start a series! Based on the album Nothing Personal by All Time Low. This would be chapter one.

Word count: 3.4K

Manage me, I’m a mess

“Agent (y/n) Carter” the ambassador said as she gave them the files “she will be joining, this is everything you need to know in her and she will be here later today.

Javier nodded as he picked up the file “of course, madam ambassador” he stood with a crooked grin and looked her over “and may I say, you look amazing in pink” he said softly and kindly. Steve just rolled his eyes and walked towards the door.

“Keep dreaming Peña” she shook her head and let them leave to review the file.

Turn a page, I’m a book half unread

“Agent Carter ” Javier handed Steve the file. “ ‘DEA’s finest’” he mocked and lit up his cigarette as he set back. Letting the smoke fill his lungs as he took a long drag of his Colombian cigarette. He watched Steve waiting for his opinion.

Steve only chuckled and set the papers down “I went to academy with her...” he said, javiers eyes lit up before he shook his head

“I didn’t mean-“

“We aren’t friends it okay” Steve chuckled.

I wanna be laughed at, laughed with, just because

“Oh- okay... okay...” pena leaned back again as the smoke clouded the humid air around them.

“She was always an overachiever, no one really liked her in my class” he chuckled and put the file away. “Way to smart to be choosing dea, but there she was. Didnt talk to anyone, didn’t let anyone talk to her.” He shrugged “I’d be surprised if she talked to us”

I wanna feel weightless and that should be enough

“So beware shes a bitch?” Javier chuckled and put his cigarette out

“Yep” Steve got up and grabbed his empty coffee cup. “Want a coffee?”

“Not from here...” he shook his head and got up.

“You know back home I always chose Colombian brew coffee, and now I’m in colombia and I don’t see why I thought it was good” Steve chuckled as they walked together to get a drink at the coffee place across the street.

“I’ve spend out money on more valuable things then coffee machines that aren’t from the 60s and beans that aren’t 2 years old” Javier joked and shook his head as they strutted the halls. They were such a duo, splitting them into a trio is a sin, but they’d have to get used to it.

Well I’m stuck in this fucking rut

Meanwhile back in LAX (y/n)’s brother tried to convince her it wasn’t worth it. “Colombia is dangerous right now, you could get killed- or- or worse!” Thomas said following her.

“What’s worse then dying?” She watched him with a bit of a cocky grin.

“You could end up like- like Kiki” he said without thinking before she grabbed her brothers collar roughly.

“You don’t say a damn word about Kiki... plus” she let him go and wiped her Dainty hand on her white button up. “After what the US did to the Sinaloa I think I’m safe from that” she sighed and kept walking.

“(Y/n) listen- please... I can’t loose my sister, not to- Pablo Escobar” he grabbed her hand. She turned and looked at him with upset eyes. “You’re all I have left...” he whispered

Waiting on a second-Hand pick-me-up

It was true, she was all he had left, dad was away over seas and mom was gone. Their oldest brother died years ago, it was just her and Thomas. But they were both adults now, she could do what she wanted, and she had been. But now she was a little worried for Thomas.

“I’ll call, and I’ll visit when I can, just go home Thomas... I’ll be okay” she said looking at him, before the warning for her flight went off, 10 minutes now. “I love you, I have to go” she hugged her younger brother before she left.

I’m getting over getting older

(Y/n) looked over her files on the plane, she knew it was a matter of time before escobar knew who she was so she didn’t hide it. She didn’t care, she knew he was almost untouchable. Almost.

(Y/n) had been all over for the DEA, her most frequented place however was Mexico. She worked in Mexico for a long time, she was young and stupid and she kinda thought it was the DEA’s way of getting rid of waste, expecting her to die at the hands of the Sinaloa. However she returned very much alive, and very much tearing open at the seems. She still has nightmares of her time there, but she didn’t care, she had to keep going, for him.

If I could just find the time

Javier set up the stuff in the meeting room before he made his way home for the night. His little two bit apartment given to him by the Embassy. It was nice, he knew that, but it always felt cold and empty, that’s why he filled it with girls, smoke, alcohol smells. It was like a fucking bar. He tried to not bring work home with him but he couldn’t help it most nights, things either bothered him to much or had to be done sooner then later. Some days he wanted to feel weightless, and those days he could escape the heavy burden of people lives depending on him. The ones he couldn’t save, or the ones he’s trying to save. He was trying so hard, but he couldn’t escape.

He needed air, that’s what it was. Right now when he felt his chest collapse on him, he needed aid, real air. So he was quick to make his way out the door and to the front steps of the apartment building, he almost didn’t see her. The (h/c) girl standing there at the steps with her bags. He almost took her out, but he stopped in time.

“I’m- im sorry uh- can I help you?” He asked clearing his throat as he looked at her. She pulled her hood off and looked up at him holding her bags close to her

Then I would never let another day go by

“This is the embassy apartments right?” She asked with a soft shivering smile. He was quick to answer, maybe to quick.

“Yea! Yea this is- this is them yea... you’re-“ he started but she cut him off.

“(Y/n) Carter, yes- hi- um- sorry I didn’t mean to cut you off I’m just tired and cold and really want to get inside. He nodded understanding, completely forgotting why he came out here as he looked into her eyes, illuminated by the yellow street lights behind him.

“I’ll show you to your apartment” he smiled and took her in, she was just across the hall from him. Her apartment identical in most ways, however her kitchen was bigger and so was her bathroom.

I’m over getting old

“Thank you, you must be Agent Peña” she smiled as he got the key from the leafy palm in the corner, unlocking her door for her.

“That I am” he smiled and helped with her bags. If he was going to be stuck with her he wanted to be nice. He didn’t want another agent, him and Steve were doing just on their own, but the embasssy expected things to be done instantly, but they are putting to many cooks in the kitchen.

“Thank you for helping, you didn’t need to” she smiled and set her bags down on the bed and looked at him.

“Of course” he smiled and set her things down with the rest. “So, we’re you invited or did you request to be transferred”

Maybe it’s not my weekend

(Y/n) looked at him and pushed hair behind her ears and shook her head. “I requested it actually, I requested it months ago really but-“

“Why would you want to be here? You know what’s happening-“

“That’s exactly why I want to be here” she stood straighter and looked at him. “You need all the help you can get it seems- and I understand if you don’t want me here because I’m a women”

“No! No no- no that isn’t it I promise” he said feeling a bit of his earlier panic come back, but it was only a little. “I don’t care you’re a women I’ve seen your file you’ve done amazing things but we were doing just fine without you...” Javier said looking at her, his hand up in defense.

“Then why did the embassy want me here ASAP?” She asked crossing her arms.

“Because they think we are stupid or something... they expect things done instantly and it’s impossible.” He explained. She nodded and sighed

“I understand that feeling. But I’m here to help... I promise” she looked at him as the moon light filtered threw her window

But it’s gonna be my year

He nodded and sighed “I’ll just let you get some sleep, I’ll see you at the office” he walked out of her room, giving her one last look as he smiled “goodnight Agent Carter” he walked out to his apartment again.

(Y/n) sighed and unpacked all she could tonight and took a few melatonin and went to sleep, trying to get on the schedule.

It wasn’t hard for her to get up in the morning, making her own coffee and getting ready early. She wanted to be there before them so she could go over things and get caught up. So getting ready quickly she tied her hair up in a tight ponytail and made her way to the office. She was always on time or early, wanting to get ahead of things or finish work so she didn’t have to bring things home.

I’m so sick of watching all the minutes pass as I go nowhere

Javier however, couldnt manage to get himself out of sleep. Stuck in a long nightmare that has his body aching and sweating to wake up but he was stuck there, in that spot in the sticky cotton sheets. He tossed and turned but al he could see was the blood, every scene he’d been to, it took a toll on him. He couldn’t help it anymore, couldn’t hold them back, couldn’t stay up and drink a shit ton of coffee and just keep going.

He was hurting himself even more trying to ignore it. He was lost in a sea of sound, until finally he woke up, alone and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Fuck....” he shook his head and got out of bed, throwing his things in the wash before he got in the shower. He felt so exhausted from sleeping, that’s not right. He hated this constant feeling, it was so much. He couldn’t even escape at home. Seemed the only time he felt fine was when he was baring himself inside a women of the night and telling her how perfect she was, only to wake up alone and try to relive that moment in the shower by himself.

This is my reaction to everything I fear

It was no secret, Javier Peña was a ladies man. To get in the head of the cartel he slept with the same women as the cartel, did it work? Yes occasionally. But it wasn’t that anymore, it wasn’t just work, it was a form of escape now. Was he a sex addict? Yes, most definitely. Did he care? No, because it was release in more ways then one and that’s all he wanted.

He did have a talent tho, remembering every name, every face. Every women. He was a talented man. But right now that didn’t matter, what mattered to him in this moment was making himself feel weightless as hot water ran down his body. He was alone last night, after showing (y/n) her apartment he went home and to bed. So he had nothing to relieve, no face to see when he closed his eyes. Oh... how he was wrong.

Cause I’ve been going crazy, I don’t wanna waste another minute here

There she was, the beauty he met last night. (Y/n) carter. Why was she what he thought about right now? He just met her. She was his partner and he’d only see her face and hands, that’s not even enough for a weirdo to get off. But it was enough for him to wrap his hand around his throbbing cock and leaning his head back as he stroked himself.

His chest heaving and his eyes rolling back as he pumped his fat cock in his hand. Soft grunts escaped his mouth before the words left it “(y/n)... fuck...” he groaned.

He didn’t even know the girl and he was getting off in his shower to her.

This could be all that I’ve waited for

He didn’t know why he felt like this, but in his mind he had her on her knees, her lips wrapped around his tip as she took him down her little throat, just that image made him let out a loud moan. Soon his balls tightened and he was coming all over her face, and down the drain.

He shook his head as he opened his eyes and looked at the mess he made. Causing him to sigh heavily and clean up before he got dressed and ready, trying to get the idea out of his head. It was his first day with her, and he wanted to fuck her. Wow.

This could be everything I don’t wanna dream anymore

When he got there she was already liking over things, remembering faces and writing in her notebook. She looked peaceful there, just staring at a cork-board of killers and drug lords. He could tell quickly this is her environment.

“Hey” he said setting down his coffee and taking off his brown leather jacket. She turned with an other bright smiled and looked at him, her smile lit of the room and made his chest feel tight, but not like his panic the night before, this was warm and different.

“Hey” she said in her silk tone as she set her note book down. “ I hope you don’t mind I’m taking my own notes.”

“Not at all, whatever makes you comfortable” he smiled at her softly. At that moment Steve walked in with his own coffee and pen. He was way to quick to notice the look in javiers eyes, the interest he had in her.

“Thanks” she smiled before looking at Steve “Steve Murphy, wow... hi” she smiled and shook his hand.

“Hey Carter, it’s been awhile” he chuckled and shook her hand

“It’s been more then awhile” she smiled and looked up at him

Maybe it’s not my weekend, but it’s gonna be my year.

“Well it’s good to know we have a good agent on our team” he smiled. “So what are you working on”

“Just taking my own notes so I can memorize things faster and get caught up” she smiled at them.

“Oh did you color coat them too?” He asked a little to condescending. She sighed and caught on quickly but went on.

“No I did not. I’m not a preppy teenager.” She stated simply before walking back to take notes.

“While you do that we are going to go do real things okay?” He grabbed his coffe and walked out with Javier. (Y/n) was pretty used to sexist comments or people thinking she couldn’t do things so she brushed it off, however Javier didn’t.

I’m going crazy, I’m stuck in here

“What the hell was that?!” Javjer looked at Steve and closed the door as they got into their little office.

“What was what?” Steve asked and set his things down.

“You being an asshole to her, what did she do to you?” Javier said taking up for her.

“I don’t know Javier what’s up with you? Staring at her like you’re guess engagement ring sizes!” Steve argued, they argued way to often. Like a married couple really.

“I was not!” Javier scoffed “I can’t be nice to my new coworker?”

“Just yesterday you were dreading her! And now you have heart eyes all over her” Steve said

Maybe it’s not my weekend but it’s gonna be my year

“I don’t have heart eyes, I’m just looking at her, damn” he sat down and opened his earliest files and started work.

“I’m sure” Steve shook his head before starting to work.

Soon (y/n) made her way to the office and walked in and almost fell over with a heart attack “my god, how do you work in such mess” she asked looking around.

“Mess? I think it’s pretty clean” Steve said looking around

“The only clean place here is my desk and it’s still covered in papers. “ she looked at him and set her things down.

“ okay I’ll admit, it’s a bit messy, but we know whether everything is” he leaned back. Just as he said that, Peña who wasn’t paying attention spoke up.

“I can’t find that file from yesterday” he sighed, giving (y/n) the perfect example.

“See!” She looked at Steve.

“Okay fine, we could organize...” he sighed.

I’m so sick of watching am three minutes pass as I go nowhere

After hours of cleaning the office was organized and they found things much easier, so much quicker and efficient. So much so that Javier could ask

“Okay now I need the First Medellin file” he said softly and it was quickly put on his desk.

“See that’s not bad...” (y/n) smiled softly and looked between them.

“But we just wasted so much time doing that” Steve said

“But we are going to save so much more now that it’s organized” she crossed her arms. She was right, organizing the office was the best decision they’d made all year, it helped get things done faster and cleared their minds.

And this is my reaction to everything I fear.

It was a small thing, to organize the office, but when Javier got home he decided to clean the apartment too, washing the bed sheets and making everything up after. Cooking a meal instead of ordering. Just have a day of cleaning up and doing normal people things, it made him sleep better already. The nightmares had calmed down and everything was fine. He was peaceful for a moment, a minute, a few seconds. And then there it was, the scream that made (y/n) drop everything and go to his apartment, he left the door unlocked so it was easy for her to get in and get to his bed side instantly.

“Javier!” She said grabbing his shoulders and shaking him awake. He was starting to sweat again, just as she grabbed him, her touch alone calmed down the terror of his mind, causing him to wake.

“(Y/n)...” he whispered tiredly as he looked at her, she was in a robe, her hair wrapped loosely in a towel.

“Hey buddy” she smiled softly, trying to comfort him in anyway. She didn’t know anything about him but she wanted to try her best to make him feel better, to make him feel weightless.

“What are you doing here...” he asked laying back. She pushed his hair out of his face and massaged his scalp softly as she spoke.

“You screamed and I came as soon as I could... I thought something happened” she answered and watched him, he was gorgeous here, with the moon light covering his glistening chest, highlighting his face and messy hair.

“I’m sorry- I- I didn’t mean too” he said as he sighed.

“It’s okay... I understand... I used to do the same thing after Mexico” she admitted. They barely knew a damn thing but they both felt comfortable with each other.

“How did you get it to stop...” he asked

“Well I did go to therapy but it never seemed to help, so I did what I did as a kid, I get something to read and read till I can’t keep my eyes open, it makes your mind think on the topics of the book rather then the other mess...” she whispered and pulled his covers back over him. He nodded and smiled “I could read to you tonight if you want...”

“You don’t have to do that”

“I don’t mind... get comfy I’ll find something...” she smiled and went to get a book. His eyes trailed her long legs as she walked out to get a book, why did he feel so open and comfortable with her, he just met her.

Cause I’ve been going crazy, I don’t wanna waste a minute here

Taglist: @thinemineours @morgannope @thisis-theway @onabouteverything @blxwjobsforclones @a-dorin @everythinggeeky

This will be a series I hope, so if you want to be tagged in this or more Javier peña stuff please let me know!

#javier peña #Javier peña #Pedro pascal #Javier peña x reader #Javier peña smut #Steve Murphy #narcos #narcos smut #narcos series #Javier peña series #nothing Personal serious

123 notes · View notes

plaidbooks · 4 years ago

Text

My Beautiful Rose

A/N: Oof, this is a long one, and I wanna thank Karen for helping me with the concept! It’s a Sonny Carisi x reader fic, covers the Flowers/Candy square in the VDay bingo, and may or may not get a part 2; who knows? Hope you enjoy! P.S. I’m sorry for my lack of medical knowledge! P.S.S. this jumps perspective a lot.

Tags: talks of stab wounds, blood, ventilators/tubes, whump

Words: 4197

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @barbasimp @alwaysachorusgirl @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles

Sonny was working late again tonight, you knew. It was obvious by the box of chocolates he had sent home, as an apology for not making it home for dinner. The bouquet of red roses was just a bonus, because he liked to call you “his beautiful rose.” You didn’t mind—he often worked late nights as detective—but you were always worried. Always afraid to get that phone call, that Sonny wasn’t coming home. You looked at your new engagement ring, twisting it gently around your finger. He was fine; he was always fine. But that didn’t stop the worry from eating away at you every time he stepped out that door, badge and gun on his hip. What you didn’t know was how much worse it was to not get that phone call.

***

The nurses burst through the doors of the ER, jogging with the gurney, the man passed out with an oxygen mask laying lifeless on top of it, blood staining his shirt. A doctor caught up with them, falling into step beside them.

“What do we have?” he asked.

“Multiple stab wounds in the chest area—heart rate is 74 and dropping, blood pressure is 90/60, respiratory rate is 10 per minute, O2Sat is 90% and temperature is 95. He lost a lot of blood, at least 10%,” a nurse listed off.

“Jesus…any vital organs punctured?”

“Hard to tell without X-rays, but by the way he’s rasping, he may have a punctured lung.”

The doctor nodded. “Prep him for X-rays and a transfusion. I’ll disinfect and be right in.”

***

You woke up in the morning with no word from Sonny, and your heart started to race. You tried to push the anxiety down; you had texted him the night before with no reply, but that wasn’t unheard of. Sometimes, he was super busy. Other times, he looked at the text, then got caught up in something else and simply forgot to respond. Though, when half the day went by and you had heard nothing, you couldn’t stop the panic that tore through you. Maybe he was working a triple shift and was napping at the precinct. Or maybe something terrible had happened. You tried texting him again, and then waited.

***

“No, I’m sorry Bella, you can’t visit him,” Olivia was saying into her phone. She was leaning against the wall in the hallway of the hospital. “It’s not safe right now; this was a hit, and his family can be targeted.” She waited, listening to the youngest Carisi on the phone. “I know that this is hard, but I promise to keep you updated, okay?” She hung up, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger before re-entering the hospital room.

Amanda was in the visitor’s chair by the bed, working on her laptop. Liv glanced at Sonny, unconscious in the hospital bed, his slowly rising and falling chest the only sign of life…though, the machine strapped to his face, tube down his throat, was helping him breathe. She felt overwhelming guilt that this had happened to the young detective, that he was now battling for his life.

It was supposed to be a routine escort—Sonny was simply taking a working girl to the hotel room that would act as her refuge until the trial against her pimp. But the information had leaked, and they were jumped, both Sonny and the girl being stabbed multiple times. The girl died on the way to the hospital, and Sonny had been barely clinging to life. The knife had punctured a lung, and it slowly filled with blood as he was rushed to the hospital. Another couple minutes, and he’d be dead.

The good news was that the doctor was optimistic about his chances of making a full recovery. The bad news was that this happened at all, and that they now didn’t have a witness to testify against the pimp. Though, if Sonny did pull through, he could hopefully testify…if there was a connection between the men that jumped him and the pimp, which there was no doubt in Olivia’s mind that the two were connected. Either way, Sonny wasn’t safe, which is why Olivia was barring anyone but officers or detectives from seeing him. And only then, it was people she knew, people she trusted. She didn’t know who leaked the location of the hotel room, but she would find out.

“Rollins; why don’t you head home? You’ve been here all night. I’ll stay here with him for the rest of the day until Fin switches out,” Olivia murmured, patting the blonde’s shoulder motherly.

Amanda looked like she would argue at first, but she was so exhausted, and she sighed. “Yeah, okay. Keep me updated, yeah?” She closed her laptop, pushing to stand.

“Of course. Stay safe—watch your six.”

Amanda nodded, heading out the door. Olivia didn’t really think that they could be in trouble for being associated with Sonny. But she wasn’t taking any chances. Glancing at Sonny, she sunk into the chair Amanda had abandoned, pulling out her phone, and going through emails.

***

After you awoke on the second morning with still nothing from Sonny, it solidified the notion that something was wrong. He has never gone this long without notifying you, work or no. And your calls and texts had been going unanswered—a bad sign indeed. With no other choice, you grabbed your things, heading to the precinct of SVU with shaking hands.

*************************

The building was busy, officers mulling about, rushing to and from desks and file cabinets and fax machines and copiers. After being pointed towards the SVU department, you headed up the elevator, starting to feel very nervous indeed about being here. Sonny had made it clear that he kept his home life separate from his work life, and while he’d talk to you about work and cases, you didn’t know how much his coworkers knew about you…if at all.

Making your way towards all the desks, you glanced around the room, trying to find your fiancé. But when you didn’t see him, your eyes went glassy with tears, and you struggled to hold yourself together.

“May I help you?” a woman asked, coming over to you. “I’m Lieutenant Olivia Benson; are you okay?”

“I…is there a Detective Dominick Carisi Jr. here?” you asked, voice watery.

The lieutenant seemed to stiffen at his name and a wave of worry washed through you. You noticed the other personnel around you giving you a hard look, and you shuffled uncomfortably.

“Come with me,” Benson said tersely, leading you towards a room off to the side. You followed her, eager to get away from the probing stares. She gestured you to enter, then followed you in, closing the door behind her. “What’s your name and why are you looking for Carisi?”

You blinked in surprise at her harsh tone. “I…it’s been almost three days since I last saw him and I’m worried. He’s not answering his phone, and I don’t know how else to track him down—”

Benson put her hand up, stopping you. “Name and why you’re looking for him. Now.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you choked out your name. “H-he’s my…he’s my fiancé, and I just want to know if he’s alive—please. If you know where he is—”

“Fiancé? Funny, he never mentioned being engaged, let alone having a girlfriend.”

With shaky hands, you reached for your purse, and Benson reached for her gun. “I’m just…phone,” you sobbed, grabbing your cell and pulling it out. You unlocked your phone, turning it towards her. Your home screen was a picture of Sonny with his arm around your shoulders, kissing the side of your head while you showed off your new engagement ring. “I-I got more pictures,” you murmured, scrolling until you found the photo album, opening it to hundreds of pictures of you and Sonny, flipping through them, proving your relationship to him.

Benson seemed to deflate as she looked at your phone. “Oh…I’m so sorry…. He never mentioned—”

“He keeps work and home separate,” you said, putting your phone back in your purse. “Now, please tell me if he’s still alive.”

***************

Your heart was in your throat as you road in the squad car to the hospital. At first, Lieutenant Benson wasn’t willing to take you to the hospital to see Sonny, claiming it was too dangerous. But all your worry and anxiety turned into white-hot rage at being kept from him, and she reluctantly agreed, already feeling guilty about thinking you may be someone trying to finish the job. You followed the lieutenant closely, still shaking slightly, unable to remain calm until you saw him, confirmed that he was still alive.

You froze it the doorway to his room when she entered, moving to the blonde woman in the visitor’s chair and exchanging a few mumbled words with her. But they were deaf to your ears as you stared at Sonny’s lifeless form on the bed, ventilator strapped to his face, machines buzzing and whirring around him. Letting out a choked sob, you rushed over to him, reaching out for his hand then stopping yourself, afraid to touch him, to hurt him somehow.

In a calm voice, Benson explained what had happened, and you half-listened, wincing at words like “stabbed” and “punctured lung.”

“Will he be okay?” you asked, wiping away the tears trailing down your cheeks.

“The doctor said that he should make a full recovery, yes,” Benson replied, and for the first time in three days, relief swept through you. But only briefly, before worry and anxiety crashed back into you. You nodded, bringing the other visitor’s chair over and plopping down into it. You had found Sonny; he was alive.

“Oh, you can’t stay here, hun,” the blonde detective said softly, as if you were a child. “It’s not safe.”

“My fiancé has been missing for three days and is on a ventilator. I’m not leaving his side,” you replied through gritted teeth. This time, you did reach out and grab his hand; it was warm and reaffirmed that he was still alive.

“And if they come here to finish the job—”

“You’re going to have to arrest me, because I’m not leaving him. If someone tries to hurt my Dominick, then I’ll…I’ll…” you trailed off; you didn’t know what you’d do. But you wouldn’t go down without a fight. Sonny was your everything, and now that you found him again, you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. Even the thought of leaving him to go to the bathroom filled you with dread.

Benson sighed heavily, looking defeated. “I…don’t want to arrest you, but I will to keep you safe. Especially for Carisi. But please don’t make me do that. Come quietly.”

“I’m not leaving him,” you said resolutely, gripping his hand tighter. Your breath caught when you felt him squeeze back gently, just a twitch of the fingers. Whipping your head to look at him, you stood from the chair, moving to stand directly over him. The machines were making a different noise now, but he still wasn’t moving.

“[y/n], you are under arrest,” Benson started, placing a cool, metal handcuff around your free wrist, unaware of the change in him. But she stopped as nurses rushed in, talking to each other in jargon you didn’t understand, checking the machines, and checking Sonny.

“What’s happening?” you asked, voice catching in your throat. You no longer felt the handcuff on your skin as a nurse gently pushed you away from Sonny’s body.

“Mr. Carisi is starting to breathe on his own—he doesn’t need the ventilator anymore. He also seems to be waking up; did you notice any change in his condition?” the nurse asked.

You blinked back the tears threatening to form. “He, uh, I squeezed his hand, and I thought he squeezed back….”

The nurse nodded before going back to the bed, helping the other nurses. You watched as Sonny’s eyelids slowly fluttered, the ventilator now gone, his breath coming in raspy through his slightly ajar mouth. You leaned forward, wanting nothing more than to hold him as he slowly came to, blinking and looking around at all the faces staring back at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse told him not to, that he was going to be sore for a little bit. Instead, she poured him some water, held it while he took a few sips from the straw.

Finally, his dull blue eyes found you, standing just to the side of his bed, behind the nurses surrounding him. “[y/n]?” he croaked, his voice sounding foreign.

You smiled softly at him, tears trailing down your cheeks. “I’m here, Dominick. You’re okay; you’re safe.”

After the nurses had finished doing whatever it was they had to, they left, reminding Sonny to try not to talk, giving him a small white board and pen to communicate. It seemed like you weren’t the only one entranced by the nurses—Benson still only had one handcuff on you, and the other detective had been watching with big eyes. Taking advantage of their latency, you pulled out of Benson’s grip, rushing back to Sonny’s side, clutching his hand.

“I’m so fucking glad you’re okay—that you’re alive. I was so fucking scared, Dom,” you murmured, kissing his hand.

“I love you,” he rasped, and you gave him a hard look that had no real weight behind it.

“I love you, too, but no talking. Use the board and pen, babe,” you urged, gesturing towards the board in his lap. ‘No talking’ for Sonny was going to be rough; he was the most talkative person you knew.

Sonny smiled at you, but it quickly faded as he saw the metal cuff hanging from your wrist. His eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Benson meaningfully, then gestured with his head to you. So, maybe he didn’t need to talk to get his point across.

Benson launched into the story of what happened yet again, ending with how he wasn’t safe in the hospital room. Then, you supplied what the last three days had been like at home, and that you went to the precinct for answers before being brought here.

“I was only going to arrest her to take her some place safe. In case you get attacked here,” Benson explained.

“But I’m not leaving your side,” you quickly added.

Sonny looked torn, his eyes downcast as he thought. Finally, he took his hand from you, opening the pen and bringing the board close to him, so you couldn’t see what he was writing. Finished, he flipped it back towards you, and you read: I love you, but go with Lieutenant Benson. It’s not safe here

You glanced back into his face, his now bright blue eyes sad, and he blinked away the tears quickly. “I can’t leave you, Dom,” you muttered.

“Please,” he croaked out, voice weak.

You closed your eyes as a few tears escaped down your cheeks. “Okay,” you finally agreed. “For you Dominick. You stay safe, you get better, and then you come home, okay?”

Sonny nodded, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. Then he quickly erased his board, writing something else, then showed it to Benson: Protect her, make sure she’s got unis at our place

“Of course,” Benson replied, and he visibly relaxed back onto the bed. You allowed her to lead you out of the room, taking one last look at your fiancé before you left.

*******************

It had been two days since you had seen Sonny. He had his phone again, but he was still discouraged from talking, so you texted more than anything. Though, it was killing you not to see him. And yet, he still somehow managed to send you a new bouquet of roses. You chuckled sadly, tears in your eyes when they showed up at your door; Sonny was the only person you knew who could be in a hospital bed and sending you flowers. You made sure to have a florist take some to him, as well; even if you couldn’t be there in person, his beautiful rose was thinking of him.

There was a knock on the door, and you rolled your eyes, thinking Sonny had sent something else now. But opening the door, you were face-to-face with a gangster wannabe-looking man. You had a moment to be confused before he lunged at you, something sharp glinting in his hand. Acting on your most basic instincts, you dodged backwards, the knife only slicing through your shirt. Both of your momentums had you stumbling backwards into your loft. You regained your balance first, grabbing the closest thing to you as a weapon. It was the vase of beautiful red roses, and you whipped your arm around, smashing it into the side of his head. Glass, water, and flowers exploded everywhere as the man tumbled to the ground, blood seeping out from his head. Hands shaking and chest heaving, you scrambled to find your phone, calling Sonny.

You heard the call connect and you didn’t even wait for him to speak before your words rushed out of you. “I was attacked at home and I hit the guy in the head and now he’s bleeding out on the carpet and I don’t know what to do—"

“Woah, calm down,” Sonny replied hoarsely. His voice was getting stronger, but it wasn’t back to normal quite yet. “You were attacked?”

You sniffed, tears clouding your vision. “Y-yeah; he just…knocked on the door, and I answered like an idiot—”

“Holy shit, are you okay? What happened to the unis? I’m sending—” Sonny started hacking and coughing, and your heart sank.

“Calm down, Dom. I’m safe, babe. I’m okay. Drink water…. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called—”

He pulled himself together. “Fuck that; you call me first.” He coughed a moment more, and you heard him swallow liquid. He cleared his throat. “I’m sending Lieutenant Benson there, okay?”

You glanced at the man still unmoving on the floor. “What do I do with the guy? He’s laying face down…did I kill him?” you asked, voice soft.

“Shit, I forgot he’s still there! Get out of our loft—can you go next door to the Thompsons? Get away from him, but don’t go outside,” Sonny instructed.

“I-I don’t know, Dom…I’ll see if they’re home—” you stopped talking as you heard voices in the hallway outside your loft.

“What the hell is taking Juan so long? It’s just some bitch,” a man said.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and you rushed to the master bedroom, closing and locking the door. With a burst of inspiration, you opened the window leading to the fire escape before tucking yourself into the bathroom, locking the door, hoping beyond hope that they’d take the bait, thinking you escaped out the window.

You heard a muffled voice and realized that it was Sonny yelling into the phone still clutched in your hand. “[y/n]! What the hell’s happening?” he asked, voice raspy.

“Th-there’s more of them,” you whispered. “I can’t talk; gotta stay quiet.”

“Liv’s on her way—she should be there any minute now. Just stay calm, stay quiet. You’re going to be okay; I promise. I’ll stay on the line with you until you’re safe,” Sonny muttered back, trying his best to keep the panic from his voice.

You heard the exclamation from them finding their buddy on your floor in the foyer, then footsteps coming down the hallway. You clutched the phone closer to your ear, like Sonny’s voice was a lifeline. There was a loud pounding, then wood splintering as the door frame shattered in your bedroom. You let out a soft whimper, tears streaming down your face. You could no longer hear Sonny’s voice, all your focus trained on the footsteps on the other side of the bathroom door.

“Fuck; she went out the window. Find her before she makes it to the hospital—we can’t get her once she’s there,” the same man’s voice from before ordered. You let out a sigh of relief as the footsteps retreated. But you still didn’t hear Sonny’s voice. Glancing at your phone, you saw that it was dead.

***

“What is it? What happened?” Sonny asked desperately when he heard the door explode open, heard you let out a scared whimper. But you didn’t respond. All he got was a soft beeping, letting him know the call dropped. He frantically redialed, heart beating rapidly in his chest, but it went straight to voicemail. Tears in his eyes, he shoved himself up to sitting position, flinging the sheets off himself.

“What the hell are you doing?” Amanda asked, springing up for the visitor’s chair and grabbing his shoulder, trying to force him back in bed.

“[y/n] needs me; I can’t get ahold of her! There were men in our loft; she’s in danger. I gotta go—”

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do in this condition?” Amanda forced him back in bed, but Sonny pushed and shoved at her. She was tired from spending all her time either there in the hospital or at work, having not slept a full night in days, while Sonny was well-rested, besides his injuries.

“I don’t care! She needs me!” Sonny got her hands off him, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Nurse!” Amanda yelled; her last resort, as she grabbed at Sonny’s shoulders, trying to wrestle him down. It took five nurses, plus Amanda, to shove Sonny back onto the bed, holding him still long enough to sedate him. He cursed at all of them in broken English and Italian, tears in his eyes as the drug worked its way through his system, and he finally passed out.

***

You never left the bathroom, even though the loft was quiet, until Olivia got there with officers in tow. The man you had hit, Juan, was still laying face down on the carpet, the blood now thoroughly staining your carpet. Olivia told you that he was miraculously still alive—you felt better knowing you didn’t kill someone—and that the officers would deal with getting an ambulance for him. She was more concerned about getting you somewhere safe; the unis charged with watching you were dead.

“The guys that came in after this guy said that they can’t get me at the hospital,” you said, remembering his words. Olivia gave you a look but didn’t argue; she seemed beaten down from the past week. So, she led you from the loft after you packed a few essentials—including your phone charger—and drove you back to the hospital.

You practically rush into Sonny’s room, Olivia on your heels, but you stopped short when you saw Sonny unconscious, that blonde detective from before sitting next to him.

“What happened?” you asked, coming to stand by his bed, trailing your fingers over his arm. His hair was slightly ruffled, his shirt askew.

“Had to sedate him—he tried to leave cause he couldn’t get ahold of you,” the woman explained.

Olivia ran a hand through her hair while your heart broke. “Rollins, go home; it’s my turn anyways.” The blonde nodded, waving a goodnight before leaving. You took her seat, pulling yourself close to Sonny’s bed, taking his limp hand in yours. Olivia joined you in the other visitor’s chair, but sat far enough back to make it seem like you had your own space with him.

You poured a glass of water for when he’d awake, and noticed all the cards, flowers, and small gifts on the table, making your heart full. You were happy that Sonny was so loved, that his friends and coworkers cared about him so much. You smiled at the bouquet of roses you had sent him, pushed to the front so that he could see them clearly.

Sonny was only out for another 30 minutes, and he was groggy when he awoke, disorientated. Though, his dull eyes found you immediately, latching on to your face like he was trying to memorize you.

He opened his mouth, but you shook your head. “Don’t speak; save your throat. Here,” you lifted the glass of water to his lips, letting him drink his fill from the straw.

Even with your words, Sonny cleared his throat. “I thought something bad happened to you,” he murmured, words slightly slurred from the medication still in him. He blinked a few times, trying to focus his eyes.

“I’m safe, babe. I’m…so sorry to have made you worry. But I’m here; I’m safe.” You broke on the last word, tears streaming down your face. Sonny reached for your hand, squeezing you in comfort.

“I’m glad you’re safe…my beautiful rose…I love you,” Sonny whispered, kissing your knuckles.

You tried to control yourself. “I love you, too, Dominick. I’m glad you’re safe, too. Let’s just…worry about getting you back to full health.”

He nodded. “With you here, I feel better already.”

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #thatesqcrushvdaybingo #fanfic #my writing

82 notes · View notes

soysaucevictim · 3 years ago

Text

“more than ever, hour (work is never over)”

Summary: Logan goes for a run, and hits a snag when Roman seems to have found himself in trouble. Again. (This happens about a year before “Cherry Cola”, to be clear. Sanders Sides, Gym Rat AU. One-shot. Ao3 link.)

Genres: Slice of Life, Fluff, Light Angst, Sickfic(?)

Characters: Logan and Roman centric. Janus, Patton, and Remus mentioned.

Relationships: Logince (platonic), Background Intrulogical (platonic/ambiguous), Background Roceit (sexual/QPP*), Background Loceit (platonic)

Warnings: Lots of numbers, Himbro Roman, Roman Is A Disaster, illness, over-training, sleep deprivation, heat exhaustion, (not as bad as what happened in “Cherry Cola”), vomiting (mentioned), Logan Is A Good Friend

Logan was running his typical checklists before setting out for another HIIT routine over at the gym. He highly valued maintaining his cardiac and overall health. He wasn’t in the medical field like Janus is and Patton used to be, but he didn’t need those credentials to appreciate it.

Considering he was a 28 year old Homo sapien, his maximal heart rate would be 192 beats per minute. Obviously, he wasn’t keen on achieving nor surpassing exactly that red zone. To say there were diminishing returns, would be an understatement. Remus would take the notion as a challenge… to be sure.

But that value was necessary to calculate his initial target – 65% of that, to be relatively precise. 125, rounded up. He intended to reach that after some warm-up routine and the first lap or two. He would consider this the yellow zone.

Once that holds reasonably steady, his next goal was to go for 87% at the highest intensity. So, 167 BPM. Holding that line for at least a minute. 2 minutes, if he was feeling particularly bold, he was in pretty good shape at this juncture. This would be more of an orange zone.

After the spike in intensity, he would go down to 50% for recovery, or 96 BPM. Rest at that load for 3 minutes, in the proverbial green zone. And then crank the figurative gears back up to the 87% target.

He intended to repeat this for at least 10 rounds. Add more, if energy is willing. Sounded like a plan.

To hit these marks, one of the simpler ways Logan enjoyed were via the exercise bikes. But today, he thought he’ll do some laps around the indoor track. He felt he needed to work in some more devoted arm action, and that would be a reasonable way to hit this workout paradigm. This outline seemed elegant and flawless.

He reviewed all of that while he swapped out his casual shoes for runners, in the locker room.

It was exactly noon when he approached the starting line. He popped in some earbuds to his prepared playlists.

He was listening to the mix named “Warm-Up Playlist”. He knew his fellows would jab him for the plainness of it, but the utility simply couldn’t be argued with. It was a selection of songs that started at 50, incrementing up to 100 BPM in tempo. It helped him keep his pace.

He stood to the side, spending a couple minutes doing some preliminary exercises. Ankle circles, leg swings, pelvic loops, arm circles, and hula-hoop jumps. It’s important to keep all the relevant joints stable and readied. Janus would probably congratulate his refreshing fastidiousness, among their motley crew.

After that micro-checklist was completed, he started going toward a brisk walking pace. He was going to check his heart rate after a couple laps to see how close to 65% he was getting.

Halfway into his first lap, he was nearly knocked over by a blur wearing a red crop-top sweatshirt and matching shorts. Roman, clearly not paying attention to what he was doing. Predictably. Logan snorted and rolled his eyes. He had to table his thoughts about his friend’s whole methodology (or lack thereof, as far as he was concerned), or else he’d fall too far out of rhythm!

Roughly a quarter of the way into the second lap, Roman closed in on Logan again, he was going at a jogging pace to a slightly faster walk to match up with Logan. Roman waved and smiled at Logan, “Hey! Didn’t expect to see ya here, Specs!”

Logan thought the voice was Roman-typically cheery. Frankly Logan would be mystified about this man’s energy, if he hadn’t met Remus first. “Salutations.”

“Why are you going so slooow? Wanna race me? I bet I can totally run circles around you!”

“No. I have a plan I intend to stick to, Roman. You know this.”

Roman melodramatically threw up his arms and pouted at Logan, somewhat impressively coordinated to his slow jogging. “Fiiine. I’m off – I want to see how many laps I can get in, like... the next hour. Adiós, for now~”

Roman went from a jog to a run before he could get a response. Logan tutted before refocusing on getting to that 65% - that yellow zone. After the second lap, he drank some water and checked his pulse… hmmm, 55%. It was time to hit a jog. He skipped a few tracks toward that range and worked to match.

By the time Logan completed lap 3, he reached and held at 65%. So, he turned on a 1-minute interval timer and his “HIIT Playlist”, on his phone. Much of the music went at 120 BPM, give or take 30. This phase, he was going to rely on his fitness bracelet to tell him where he’s at, not enough time to do things digitally… rather, manually or with his fingers, to clarify.

He and Remus programmed this thing to flash his percentage progress, freeing up some mental space to not need to calculate that value repeatedly, whenever he looked at the monitor.

He picked up to a run for about another quarter-lap and broke into a full-tilt sprint. Every 20 or so seconds, he glanced at the bracelet, while keeping the majority of his attention to his surroundings and form.

20 seconds, 73%. Not good enough.

40 seconds, 84%. Logan grimaced and pushed his cadence up a bit more.

50 seconds, 86%. For the love of Archimedes… it’s okay. It’s close.

BEEP! 60 seconds, 88%. Orange. FINALLY. Okay, he thought he had a good read now, being consistent for the next sets should be easier.

Time to, figuratively, dial things way down. He spent approximately 20 seconds running, 40 more jogging, and BEEP.

He took a couple sips from his water bottle, before spending the remaining 2 minutes going at a walk.

1 minute, 30 seconds, 78%.

BEEP. 2 minutes, 71%.

2 minutes, 30 seconds, 60%.

2 minutes, 50 seconds, 53%.

BEEP. 3 minutes, 49%. Green. Logan sighed to himself, “Margin of error, you have to account for it… anyways.”

Round 2.

20 seconds, 76%. Better.

40 seconds, 85%. Almost there.

50 seconds, 87%. Orange, again. Locked on, Logan smiled. Now hold this for 10 more seconds…

BEEP!

Second active rest cycle.

Once he got down to a walk again, he observed that Roman was on the opposite end of the track. Still going at what he could only describe as an absurd pace.

Roman closed in when Logan was 2 minutes into this interval. 69%, by the way. Logan groaned, some of Remus’s sense of humor “rubbing off on him”. Why must people ascribe such crudeness to an arbitrary number, he wondered.

Roman was panting quite loudly, shouting down Logan, “Nerd- Nerd’s got some SPEED!”

Logan took a swig of his water bottle. “This is not the first time you’ve seen me manage this.”

Roman looked like he just realized he should have followed suit, smacking his lips and drinking several gulps from his own water supply. “R-riiight.”

“You really should pace yourself. On everything. Honestly.”

“HEY. Only Snakey McSnakerson gets to tell me that!”

“Is he here right now? Am I wrong?”

Roman was back to pouting, “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

“But you just-”

Roman cupped his hands over his ears, “Lalala – I can’t hear you!”

Roman ran off ahead of him again. Logan could only shake his head.

2 minutes 55 seconds, 51%.

BEEP. 50%. Green.

Round 3.

30 seconds, 80%. Not bad if he said so himself.

40 seconds, 84%. Margin of error.

50 seconds, 89%. Overcompensated somewhat, it would seem. Perhaps Roman’s competitive streak was “infectious”, today.

BEEP! 60 seconds, 91%. Orange, approaching red. Yeah, he was definitely overcompensating.

Third rest, fourth active, fourth rest, fifth active intervals... hitting his marks, pleasingly and without incident.

He was on his fifth rest, soon enough.

Once Logan was walking again, he thought he was up for extending his active intervals to 2’, for the next 5 sets. Things have been building palpable fatigue, but very manageable.

Roman still appeared to holding up, a short distance ahead of Logan, at this point. Perhaps he was slowing down. It was a few moments before the distance was closed again.

Roman was drenched, so Logan decided to ask him, “Are you quite alright?”

“Might be getting a little tired now, no big deal.”

Logan recalled some things Patton instructed all of them about and he looked at Roman more carefully as they walked slowly. Roman looked paler than usual. “Hmmm, is your head hurting, perhaps?”

“Maybe a little. Didn’t get enough sleep again, it’s probably that.”

“I imagine it couldn’t be helping but-”

Roman got a little agitated, “But what, Egg Head?”

“Are you nauseous?”

“I’m not ready to puke, not just yet, Bro Ham.”

“May I check your pulse? Or rather, how does it feel?”

“What are you getting at!?”

“Cramps? Dizziness?… I think you are exhibiting the signs of heat exhaustion.”

Roman looked like he was going to be short with Logan, but it was clear now that he was starting to get somewhat wobbly. Logan decided to prompt him again, “Here, let us go to the showers, you need to cool off.”

Roman knew he couldn’t fight Logan in his current state, “Fiiine.”

Logan was annoyed about cutting his workout short, but he could always resume later. This was more important, anyways.

Roman was lying on his back on one of the benches in the locker room. His outfit then saturated with cool shower water, holding a battery-power fan to himself that Logan let him borrow.

Logan was at his feet, “How are your symptoms now?”

Roman groaned, “You’re not “the doctor” in our group, would you please stop acting like it.”

“I do not wish to see you in the hospital, Roman.”

Roman sputtered a little, “Yeah well, I’m fine.”

“Stable, I suppose, yes. But I know you enough to know you are not “fine”.”

Roman almost shot up to rebut, but a wave of dizziness forced him back down. “Look. I just didn’t get enough sleep – mind was running a bajillion miles an hour last night. So many IDEAS to write down. And couldn’t get to sleep until way after… you know what? Nevermind.”

Logan did care and frankly saw a lot of similar tendencies between the two brothers. It disturbed him and made him wish he was able to help them get a better handle on their sleeping and general health habits. It seemed as though they were both at very high risk of something serious occurring. But at the same time, he recognized that this was not his area of expertise. All he could really do was try to be there for them.

“Speaking of which... I think I see my wall… approaching… going to-”

Before Logan could latch onto any inquiries about walls, Roman dropped the fan and started snoring. After a brief moment of worry, Logan was reasonably sure this was simply a nap, not a loss of consciousness. To his relief.

Logan thought idly, “I suppose I should at least inform Janus what occurred. Roman might not be fit to drive for a while longer.”

Logan tapped out a message, “Hey. I’m in the locker room with Roman. He likely had an episode of heat exhaustion, today. He appears to be doing okay right now. But I felt that it was worth mentioning it to you.”

It was not even 2 minutes before Janus responded with, “WHAT!?”

“He’s safe, just taking a nap. I suppose he wouldn’t mind if you took him home.”

“… omw. That dumb ass has some explaining to do. With love, of course.”

“Indeed, I shall see you shortly then?”

“Yeah, ttyl… thanks, btw.”

Logan supposed he should stick around to make sure Roman was safe before resuming his own agenda. He had to admit, like with Remus, he did enjoy seeing them get some greatly needed rest.

#spilled musing #sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #(*i think that may be a more accurate label to this AU's Roceit)#(honestly both the twins are complete disaster humans)#(but they're in good company)#gymrat au

9 notes · View notes

musedblues · 4 years ago

Note

okay hear me out

you're a college freshman in the 60's and have a forbidden romance with your TA, john deacon

sorry not sorry for how long this turned out 😘

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You floated through the library like you'd breezed into town with nothing better to do. Running the tips of your fingers across the spines of books as your eyes looked ahead to the upcoming shelf. Beyond spaces empty of volumes, you saw him.

John was hunched over a desk doing work with a look of concentration you'd come to recognize and adore. You breezed near, clearing your throat, sure that you were close enough for him to hear, and that no one else would. Like you knew he would, he looked up and saw you. But to anyone who might've noticed, it seemed he didn't care. You knew that wasn't true. You didn't have to look back, as you breezed behind the shelf again, to know he was going to follow you.

Funny. When you started uni, you had no idea what to expect. But besides the overwhelming amount of coursework, and the struggle you had finding friends who stayed sober enough to remember you'd become acquainted, one thing surprised you the most. Out of all the things you'd failed to properly prepare yourself for, getting caught up with a TA... with John Deacon, wasn't one of them. He was in his final year of uni, and a rather unassuming presence. He seemed to stick to the shadows, off-campus. And when he was busy with classroom duties, he was a man of few words then too.

Maybe his quiet nature was what drew you to him. You longed to know the sort of thoughts that ran through his head. If there were any of you... Or maybe it was the look in his eye, when he finally dared to look right at you. No one had ever looked at you like that. With such assuredness. Like something of you belonged to him, before he even knew your name.

After a couple weeks of gathering up the courage to trade longing gazes for something more, you'd planned to take advantage of office hours with your fingers crossed behind your back. You'd made it late that afternoon and John said,

"You shouldn't be here." As he sat hunched over a pile of work, then. Alway so determined with every task at hand.

"Why?" You dared to ask with every scrap of confidence you could feign. "Afraid you'll get in trouble?"

John shook his head of flaxen waves, ever so slightly, scribbling on the papers below his steady hand.

"Afraid you'll be a distraction."

And then he looked at you, in that way you'd come to recognize. But it was always a thrill, that stormy gaze of his. It took your breath away, and you wondered if he knew. If he'd meant to.

Now, like then, John was at your side before you could blink. His fingers lost in your hair, his mouth on yours. Every bit of him fit against you, in a way that made your heart ache at the very thought of him taking one step back.

You only had a few minutes to spare before you had to dash to a class. But you and John had gotten pretty good at this. You knew exactly where to find each other on any given day. And you knew exactly which corner of the room to escape to, where you might get to share something more than a quick kiss or two.

And besides classrooms under renovation or the restrooms outside the gymnasium that no one ever used, the back of the dustiest part of the library was easiest. With little to no traffic, and the perfect nook between shelves, you'd find John here more often than not.

He'd whisper things in your ear that echoed through your head as you sat through one of the lessons he was called in to teach. Here, he'd give you previews of things he'd invite you over to his place to put into practice on extra long weekends and rare holidays you each had nothing planned for.

But invitations over were as rare as holidays themselves. He lived alone, in the quaintest flat with navy walls and lots of extra blankets. And the nights you spent there were the highlight of every odd month.

It had gone on like this for so long, you were sure you could survive till he graduated. You'd managed to keep your distance when it counted, even on the increasingly frequent nights out with a set of mutual friends. His best mate hooked up with your flatmate, Casandra. She was older, and their match made sense. But how could you know John would be mixed among the crew you'd agreed to meet up with for drinks?

Casandra asked what had you looking so flushed as she shoved a shot into your hand. You shrugged, and said something about how bad the lighting in the pub was. And even though shaking John's hand like you'd never met before nearly made you laugh out of sheer nervousness, you managed through the night without a hitch. He kept his distance, and only shot you that thrilling look a handful of times. You didn't even talk about the run in next time you flagged each other down for a quickie behind the auditorium.

You just kept it up, crossing paths like you had been, and acting like you hadn't when your friends got together. There were ball games, movie nights, and birthday parties you'd breezed through without sitting too close together.

And there were still nights you'd stayed alone together, and those were becoming more common. John would ask you to stay over to waste days with him, and you tried your best at slyly accepting, as to not seem too utterly desperate for his company.

But you really had become attached. You weren't sure if he had, but suddenly, all you thought of was the next time you'd get to see John. Suddenly you didn't even care what it was you'd do together. Suddenly, when he caught your eye in class, you couldn't help but smile no matter who saw.

Then one of your friends bought a new place. And she invited everyone over. All the mates you'd come to love, and some new faces too, who flooded her sparsely decorated home and filled the countertops with sweets and liquor. You were the last to arrive, and when you spotted John across the room, he didn't look your way. You shrugged it off, realizing there were a lot of unfamiliar faces to be wary of, on your way to the kitchen. Still, you fetched a couple of beers and found John in the living room between a pair of art majors, rambling about something you couldn't imagine held his interest.

You approached him and extended the extra bottle, a gift disguised as a greeting- something you'd do for any friend. But without even really looking at you, John stepped to the side and mumbled something about getting his own drink. As soon as you whipped to watch him slink off to the kitchen, another pal slid up and stole the beer you had one too many of. You let him, and laughed a little, hoping to erase the furrow in your brow.

Had you done something? Stepped too close? Looked to John too fondly? Couldn't you still be friends, mixed among so many others? You had done a fine job as such so far, you thought. But something was up. You just had no idea why, or what to do about it.

So as the night moved on, you just kept trying to act like his extra cold shoulder was in fact, the norm. You withheld a frown when John left the rooms you were in, and bit back frustrated tears when he rose from the sofa in a room sparse of people enough you'd hoped to ask him what the matter was.

And when you left on your own, you'd felt lonelier than any time just like this one. You didn't look back to see if John had rushed to meet up or stop you. Because you couldn't decide if it would be worse to find he'd followed, or not. So you went home and waited.

You lost yourself to a never-ending sea of coursework, and prayed that the next time you floated into the library that you'd find John there. You'd never questioned it before. He'd always been there.

But you were right too. Because John wasn't at the table with a stack of work under his nose, that week. You couldn't find him behind the auditorium, and the classroom was suspiciously closed during office hours. You tried not to worry. You figured maybe he needed space. So you debated for hours, the night you'd promised to sneak over to his next.

A ray of hope beamed from the light in the living room he always left on as a signal that it was safe for you to sneak over. But something was still amiss. And you knew John knew so too, when he opened the door with a pursed smile, instead of pulling you in with a sultry grin, like usual.

You lingered near the entrance with your rain-wet boots in place, your arms over your chest.

"What's wrong?" You asked with a waver in your tone.

John shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and let out a sight before uttering the word "Nothing." As if only to convince himself.

"Nothing?" You breathed. "All month you've been begging me to spend practical weeks here with you, but you wouldn't even look my way at Maureen's party?"

John paced before you, listening reluctantly.

"And I'm pretty sure they know about us, anyway. Last week Jery basically cheered us on when he noticed us trying to quietly sneak out of his walk-in closet."

John said nothing still, bringing a hand to his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose as silence stole the air from the room, and when John's silvery gaze met yours at last, it wasn't like all the other times before. There was a sadness there that drained the colour from your world, and as his mouth started to open to presumably let you down easy, you wouldn't let him.

"I'm sorry I thought this was something it wasn't." You choked out, before spinning to open the door.

John called out your name, then, and you could feel he was hot on your trail. He called for you to turn around and come back, when your feet hit the pavement. But you just kept going, too close to the verge of tears, and John couldn't see that. You marched away until his pleas for you to come back were echoes, and the sweeter things he said over the year mockingly rang in your head.

Cassandra worried over what was wrong as you stormed into your shared flat, and hurried to your room. You threw yourself to the shelter of your bed, and let out the worlds longest held breath. But you didn't let yourself cry. Not yet.

Not until the class he sat in for came around, and John wasn't there. Instead, the cynical old professor who found every reason to skip out on teaching that he could find. The guy started his course by saying something painfully vague about having to find a new TA. All during a dry lesson, you took notes and bit your lip to stop it from quivering. And when the hour was up, you hurried out into the hall and to the corner of campus no one would see you cry.

You wouldn't let yourself for long. You just allowed yourself a moment to let out a little of what you'd been keeping in for so long. All the frustration you'd been confounded by the past week, out of nowhere at all it seemed. Even the thrill of being with John was something you'd been keeping dormant, hidden away from anyone who might've caught a loving gaze or grazing of the hand. Your adoration for John and the hurt that came from his ignoring you all mixed together and weighed heavy on your heart. After your tears bubbled over, you started home with a reluctant plan.

Now, you figured it best to toss out that old jumper of his you'd stolen, the week and a half he headed home and left you all by your lonesome. You'd have to burn the notes he'd leave in your textbooks, the mornings you'd finish work at his coffee table. You'd have to spend the weekend getting over John Deacon, but you really didn't want to.

Out of all the things you'd come to expect from your first year of uni, falling head over heels for someone you just couldn't have wasn't one of them. You'd learned, over the course of time, when he'd pop into halls and pull you around corners that John was very good at catching you off guard.

So, on your sorry stroll home, when the guy on your mind suddenly appeared in the middle of your path, you couldn't be too surprised. It was like him to show up when you least expected, in good times and bad, it seemed. But the pace of John's walk stopped you in your tracks. He shouldered past groups of friends eager to kick off weekend plans they chattered about. And in a couple of strides, John was toe to toe with you. And his fingers were lost in your hair. And his mouth was on yours.

John kissed you, right there on the pavement, in front of everyone. He held you against him, a good thing too, because you couldn't be sure of your own strength to hold you from fainting into a puddle of shock. Surprise took such a hold of you that you hadn't even attempted to kiss John back until he was pulling away from you.

"I'm sorry." He breathed, searching your eyes with his in a way you recognized. "About the party, I'm sorry. Maureen asked me out for drinks and wound up finding out about us. She was so bloody pissed and we got in this big fight about morality. And she threatened to sell me out and cost my job a minute before you showed up, and I was just so caught off guard, but I should have explained so earlier." John told, keeping two firm hands on your shoulders.

Your heart sank with the weight of the realization, all too suddenly recalling Maureen, and the strange things she kept saying that night. About you, and where you belonged in the world. You figured she was just drunk, and maybe she was. But her ramblings about finding your way in life didn't seem so random now.

"So I worked it out. I managed to finish things up early. I've been here for so long, working so hard for this degree. But the moment you showed up I knew there was nothing in this world I'd ever want more." John rang, desperation pouring from his tone. His long fingers dug into your arms as he rambled, and his eyes peered into yours with such intent. "And, that can happen now. I just hope you can forgi-"

You threw yourself toward him, taking the collar of John's shirt in your fists and kissing him with all the stored up adoration you'd been collecting over the year, right in front of everybody. John held you against him, and you fit perfectly like you always had.

Then, with a coy grin, John took your hand in his and you started to walk together like a couple of bashful teens on their first-ever date. Your heart had belonged to his for a while now, though. But you could really get used to acting like it. And you didn't have to ask to know John felt the same.

#john deacon #john deacon x reader

106 notes · View notes

vintagedolan · 4 years ago

Text

mixtape | track seven

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

*contains smut*

When Nicole died, Indiana convinced herself that someone was holding down a fast forward button on her life. Some greater power with a universal remote, carelessly keeping a finger shoved down on the little button with the double arrows, with no regard to the fleeting few days she had left with her most important person.

History seemed to be repeating itself, with the best physical representation being the very quickly evolving tiny homes.

The first thing on Grayson’s agenda when they’d made it back to NYC was to decorate the property for Halloween. It hadn’t seemed like the most sound plan to Indy, considering last time they were out in the field it was just raw building materials, a platform and lots of grass. But when she climbed off the back of the quad, away from Grayson’s warmth and into the chilly air, she was standing in front of a house, or at least the bones of one, with the beginnings of the loft and stairs formed inside. It wasn’t polished yet - in fact, there wasn’t even a front door to hang the spider wreath that he had bought at Home Depot. But there was a house, and it stood as a reminder that time was passing quickly.

Despite how over the top the Dolan’s were about it, Halloween was a blink. Ethan was still in California, spending a few more days with Eden, but they facetimed in their costumes anyways - Indy had been convinced into dressing up at the last minute, which resulted in a witch costume that consisted of black leggings and a black bodysuit, which got covered up by a spare hoodie of Grayson’s early in the evening, brought on by the ever-dropping Jersey temperatures. But they celebrated with Lisa, and with E squared across the miles with a bonfire and too many pieces of candy, and Indy realized at the end of the night that it was the first holiday she’d had with family in years. It filled a vacant room in a back hallway of her heart that she didn’t realize had been abandoned, and as soon as the calendar turned to November, she was determined.

“Thanksgiving. Me, you, Lisa, Ethan, Eden, Cam, Charlie and Devin. Thoughts, opinions?”

Grayson quirked an eyebrow from the other side of the couch, face lit by his laptop screen.

“Vegan thanksgiving?”

She nudged him in the side with her foot, getting the perfect angle from where she was laying to tickle him. “Nah, we’re gonna cook a whole meal that 25% of the participants can’t eat. Sounds like the holiday of dreams.”

He poked her with a toe. “Yeah, that sounds good to me. Might have to find an extra table at Ma’s though.”

“I can plan out a menu, make sure everyone brings something. Charlie can bring plates, for all our sakes.”

“Then Ethan can bring cups, cause god knows he doesn’t know what the fuck to do in a kitchen. And I can do the menu, you’ve got enough on your plate.”

“It’s not that bad this week,” she countered, but before she could say anything else he’d picked up her planner, looking at all the little color coordinated blocks that she’d drawn out. Grayson had never had a planner before, much less an hourly one, and it stressed him out a bit just to see how little time she didn’t have allotted to something. His finger moved over a little block in dark blue, a tiny scribble inside it - time with g :).

“You block out time for us to hang out?”

“I block out time to do just about everything but pee,” she laughed, keeping her eyes on her textbook as he continued to look through her pages.

“You haven’t peed in like… 3 hours. Drink your water.”

She stuck her tongue out but did as he asked, watching the way he found something on the page and frowned, eyebrows creasing across his forehead.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He answered it too quickly, and it was her turn to frown.

“Babe. What is it?”

“It just says, uh, ‘deposit from Kenneth’. Who’s Kenneth?”

Her breathing stopped for a moment. She hadn’t heard that name said aloud in years.

“Oh um. That’s my dad. Kenneth Cross.”

He switched from realization to guilt in an instant, flipping the planner shut. Grayson wasn’t privy to much information about Indiana’s father, but he didn’t need much to know that the relationship wasn’t great.

“Shit, Dee, sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

She closed her textbook, sitting it aside with a sigh. Sitting up, she crossed her legs on the couch, a bid to get a little closer to him.

“No, it’s okay. We probably should have talked about it by now anyways. What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me.” He offered her his hand, knowing she liked to toy with her fingers when she talked, hoping it would help.

“Well. He wasn’t always a shit head. Actually, he used to be a pretty good dad. When Charlie and I were growing up, he was always there. He coached Charlie’s basketball team, then mine. He helped mom with dinner, we all went on vacation together. I mean, I had a good childhood, I really did. But things changed when mom got sick.”

“How long was she sick?”

“Six months. It took her fast, much faster than usual with her stage and her type. I thought my dad would step up, but he didn’t. He shut down. And I get that, it was hard, but we needed him and he just… wasn’t there. Charlie had to take her to appointments because I couldn’t drive yet. He stayed at home and worked, and drank, and then drank some more and called it work. He never talked about mom, never even admitted to himself she was sick I don’t think. So Charlie and I did our best, and we stayed with her as much as we could, especially towards the end. I’d ride the subway out of the city to get to school cause I slept at the hospital most nights. And I guess Charlie and I didn’t realize, but he was working on selling the house while we were doing all that, before she was even fucking gone. So, when she did go, all of a sudden she was gone, and my house was gone, and Charlie was going to school, so it was just me and him.

“We moved into a smaller house. He didn’t talk to me. He was a shell without my mom. And I thought it would get better but it didn’t. So, I taught myself how to be okay without him, and without my mom… without anyone. I think he realized it too, and some part of him felt bad. But he knew he couldn’t fix it. So, the summer before college, he said he’d pay for wherever I wanted to live for school. I couldn’t swing rent on a Jet’s salary, and I wanted to get out of his house, so I agreed. I moved in here freshman year, and we haven’t seen each other since. Haven’t even talked on the phone really. He deposits rent in my account each month, and as soon as I can get enough money to not have him do that, I’m going to tell him to stop. I don’t want him to think I need him, for anything.”

Indy looked up for the first time since her story started, and she sucked in a breath at the sight of Grayson’s watery eyes. He blinked it away and cleared his throat, but the way he opened his arms up told a different story.

“I don’t like hating him. But I don’t know how to forgive him either.”

“C’mere,” he mumbled, waiting for her to readjust and climb on top of him. His arms wrapped around her tightly, like he wanted to press her into him and make her a part of him.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that with your mom like that, I can’t imagine.”

Indy lifted her head and looked at him with sad eyes.

“Yes you can.”

The knot in his throat grew, and he kissed her head when she relaxed against him again. He let the silence settle for a few minutes, tracing a heart against her back and pressing his lips into her hair over and over.

“I had my mom though. She helped us through the entire thing. And I had Ethan, and Cam. And I know you had Charlie, but thinking about you having to do that without a parent.” He shook his head. “I hate it. Not to mention the rest of the bullshit he’s probably put you through that you’re too nice to tell me about.”

It was her turn to get teary.

“Well, I’m okay now. I made it, and so did you.”

He ran a thumb over her cheek with a soft smile.

“Wish you didn’t have to make it through it at all.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Grayson shifted then, rolled them over to the side so Indy was between him and the back of the couch, coiling his arms around her tightly, shifting her up enough for him to kiss her. He let his hand roam down her back, over her ass, grabbing and moving until her leg slotted above his.

“I love you,” he said, hoping she knew just how much. She moved her hand from his cheek, let her arm wrap around him, trapping him closer to her.

“Love you more.”

He shook his head at her, making her laugh against his skin.

“You don’t have a nap written in your schedule, am I gonna screw it all up?”

“I can shift things. I’m flexible.”

He laughed again, a beautiful sound that bounced off the walls of the apartment and filled the space. Indy kept her leg wrapped around him, holding him close and finding his lips with hers again, breathing him in - her favorite distraction.

“Flexible hm? How flexible?” His voice had dropped slightly, throat gruff.

She knew they weren’t going to sleep, so she gave in, dipping down to kiss along his neck, taking charge a bit more than usual.

“You know, I think we might be the only couple who can switch from parental trauma to horny within 60 seconds,” she mused, smiling at the rumbling laugh it got out of him.

“Maybe we’re just built different.”

“Hate that,” Indy mumbled, moving back up to kiss him again. He wasted no time in coaxing her shirt off, sitting them up with her in his lap so he could do the same to his own, getting her bra off quickly after his own sweatshirt was gone. There was no better feeling than her skin against his, he was sure. Her hand landed on the middle of his chest and she hummed, smiling.

“You didn’t shave your chest hair.”

He pulled back a bit with an incredulous look. He hadn't even thought about it, but she was right. “You noticed that?”

“I notice everything about you. You’re my favorite thing to study,” she smiled, and his heart melted in his chest. The only way he knew to respond was to pull her back to him. In a bed, he would have rolled them over, climbed above her, but the couch limited him and he was at her mercy for the time being.

She didn’t seem to be in much of a rush, and between the slow roll of her hips and the kisses she pressed along a path from his jaw to his collarbone, he was very much wishing she would pick up the pace. His hands slid down to her hips, pressing her down against him in a bid for friction.

“Easy,” Indy laughed his favorite laugh, the breathy one that seemed like an afterthought. “If I’m gonna rearrange my schedule, I get to set the pace.”

“Well then, take it away,” he chuckled, but it faded into more of a groan when she nipped at his shoulder, letting her hands run down his sides. She left goosebumps in the wake of her nails, and he couldn’t help but shudder as she toyed with the waistband of his sweats for a moment, like she was playing a game. Grayson Dolan wasn’t used to being at the whim of anyone, and it was liberating in a way that had his nerves buzzing.

Indiana was perhaps enjoying herself a bit too much. Usually, she was so overwhelmed by him that she didn’t have time to really take him in. So, she soaked up the opportunity of having him displayed out for her, tracing her fingers over every plane of him - the v of his hips, the muscles over his ribs. Down his arms, back up to his shoulders, running her thumbs over his scruff as she cupped his face. When she made it back down to his abs she felt them flex under her hands, his hips bucking up just barely against hers.

“Baby.” His tone was stern, and she played into a bit, looking at him as innocently as she could.

“Hmmm?”

“You’re teasing.”

“I’m admiring.”

“Okay, then you’re cheesy and you’re teasing.”

“Guilty as charged,” she murmured, shrugging a bit.

Bad move.

His arms wrapped around her tightly, ensuring he didn’t lose his grip as he planted a foot on the floor and rose up just enough to roll them, getting her underneath him on the couch. It happened so fast that all she could do was gasp, eyes wide as she stared up at him, the blues bright with shock.

“Now, where were we.”

His cockiness was back in full swing, but he paused at the pout that came over Indy’s face.

“What?”

“I kinda liked being up there,” she said, running her hands along his arms as he held himself up above her.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna switch again?”

“Kinda.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. Pants off, then we switch.”

“Deal.”

He stood up first, taking her hand and pulling her up to her feet. They shimmied out of the pants and underwear quickly, leaving them in a pile on the rug in a rush to get back to each other. The mood shifted yet again when he guided her onto his lap as he sat down, lighthearted and fun as she got herself settled. Grayson had never had lighthearted sex before he met Indiana Cross. It was always scratching an itch, even when it was with people he was in a relationship with. She seemed to unlock another side of him, one that made it so much more fun to have her above him, struggling to keep her hair out of her face and get close enough to him at the same time. He wasn’t sure how she managed to be adorable and sexy at the same time, but when she finally got herself lined up and began to sink down onto him, he didn’t have the brain power left to care.

“Shit Dee,” he groaned, using every bit of self control he had to keep his hips still, letting her set her agonizingly slow pace.

She whimpered with every inch that she moved down, finally taking all of him somehow, arching her back for a moment before she caved, leaning forward onto his chest, burying her face in his neck.

He started as slow as his body would let him, groaning as she started to grind her hips, searching out an angle that kept the pressure building. It took a moment, like it always did when they tried a new position, but when she found it Grayson knew by the way her nails dug into his shoulders. He grabbed her hips to hold her there, memorizing the way their bodies fit together so he could get right back to that same spot over and over again.

“Gray,” she whimpered into his ear, bracing her forearms on his shoulders as he chased her high for her, determined to have her shaking. All she could do was moan and hold on as he thrusted into her faster with a renewed purpose, only stopping when she clenched so hard that he could barely move.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Indy whined, every muscle in her body tightening down in defense of how overwhelmed she suddenly felt, breath catching in her throat as her orgasm ripped through her. His arms coiled around her back as if he was trying to hold her together as she shook, and he chased the last of his high, lifting her off of him at the last possible second before he came, white streaks landing on his torso. He knew it would be a mess and he didn’t care - he pressed her back to him, wrapping her up for a moment in his arms and letting the two of them come down.

“Woah. Good woah,” Indy mumbled, pressing kisses to his neck where she could reach.

“I second your good woah.”

“Good.”

“Do you have time in your flexible schedule for a shower? I got you all sticky.”

She sat up and pretended to ponder it for a moment, making a show of quirking her eyebrow just to make him laugh. “I suppose I could pencil it in. C’mon.”

She climbed off him and took his hand, leading him to her bathroom with a smile. They paused in front of the mirror for a moment, and it was the first time in a long time that Indy felt happy to be looking in one. But still, she turned around and looked up at her boyfriend - he looked better in real life than in his reflection anyways.

“You know, if you play your cards right, you might just win yourself a round two.”

That was all it took for him to pick her up so fast she squealed, carrying her behind the privacy of the shower curtain for a second taste.

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

Bekah’s hands were always cold, but they felt like ice cubes in Indy’s hands. She rubbed along her skin in a bid to warm her up, eyes wandering over to Grayson.

“She’s pale,” he murmured, keeping his distance as he stood at the end of the bed. The sight of her so still in her hospital bed was unsettling. He had expected their first visit back to be filled with smiles, and ‘I miss you’s’, stories of California and her recovery.

Instead, they’d walked into Bekah’s room to find her fast asleep underneath her Halloween blanket, brows furrowed in what he hoped was concern and not pain.

“Her body is probably just trying to get used to the new cells. Not making enough blood, she’s probably up for another transfusion soon.”

“How do you know?”

Indy nodded towards what Grayson had assumed was an IV pole - he supposed it was, but instead of the usual bags of clear or milky liquid, there were just empty hooks.

“An hour.”

Bekah’s voice was dry and horse, and although it was quiet, it made both of them jump.

“Hey! How’re you feeling?” Indy immediately perked up, painting that smile across her face that Grayson had started to associate with everything hospital, from the sounds to the smell of bleach.

“Tired. My next transfusion is in an hour.”

“Did the doctor say anything about your counts?”

Bekah looked at her and rolled her eyes, wincing as she tried to sit up in bed. Indy reached to help her but she held a hand up.

“I have a transfusion in an hour, you tell me what my counts are,” she muttered, sitting up for a moment before she let out a sigh and put her face in her hands.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Beks,” Grayson said.

“No, it’s not. You all came to see me and I’m being an asshole.”

“No one is nice when they don’t feel good,” Gray offered, moving to the other side of the bed and resting a hand on her shoulder. It was a simple gesture, a small attempt at consoling, but it was too much for Bekah. The sniffles turned into broken sobs that shook her entire body so hard it looked like she would come apart.

“I’m just tired of this. I’m tired.”

There wasn’t an adequate response to give, so the room filled with silence apart from her sobs as they did their best to hold her together, wrapping their arms around her, around each other. Indy’s eyes were red by the time Bekah’s cries quieted, and Grayson scrambled to come up with something, anything, to lighten the mood.

“Well, if we have an hour, that means we have time for an episode of something. Didn’t you say you were watching Vampire Diaries while we were gone?”

Bekah nodded, laying back against the pillows.

“Then let’s watch one and just chill. Save your energy.”

He set it up quickly, turning off the lights and pulling his chair over to the side of her bed as it started to play. When he looked over, there was just enough light to see that Bekah had reached for Indy’s hand. And to his surprise, she reached for his too. He took it, trying to ignore the way his throat tightened at the feeling of her squeezing weakly - a silent thank you as the episode began to play.

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

The first two weeks of November passed with unrelenting speed. Indiana buried herself in her school work, carving out what she could for quality time for Grayson, even if it was just going out to Jersey with him for a movie night that ended with her asleep on his lap before the opening scene was done. He didn’t mind - he just liked having her around, watching her get closer with Ethan and his mom, knowing she was safe because she was there with him. It was hard to help someone who was so determined on being independent, but he did what he could and she did the same, spending what little time she had encouraging him and supporting him.

Grayson had his own work to focus on, and it filled the time nicely as they worked to get their brands up and running through the holidays, plus the task of finalizing the plans for the details of the tiny homes. Somehow, it was already the week of Thanksgiving before he stopped to take a breath, which he found in the backyard with his brother the day before the holiday.

“Listen. I can make rolls. I can’t fuck that up.”

“Ethan, you could fuck anything up, including rolls. Just get cups. And things to put in the cups.”

“Fuck you,” Ethan grumbled, tossing the football a bit harder than necessary across the back lot. Grayson wished he’d put on gloves, but

“When is evil coming in?”

“She lands tonight, gotta go pick her up at 10:30. Is Indy staying out here tonight too?”

“No, I’m staying at her place, her sister and her boyfriend fly in tomorrow morning so we gotta pick them up. You’re picking up Cam tonight too right?”

“Yeah. Damn, I feel like dad,” Ethan laughed, a puff of white in the cold air.

Grayson waited for him to elaborate, throwing the ball back.

“He was always the chauffeur. I mean jesus, how many times do you think he picked us up from the airport when we came home?”

“True, he fucking hated that drive too. Complained about it the whole time, every time.”

“Like you don’t hate driving into the city.”

Grayson quirked an eyebrow at him, tossing the ball a bit harder, trying to put a different spin on it.

“Okay, fine, used to hate it. Now you just like it cause you get laid at the end of it.”

“True,” Gray grinned. “That makes me sound like a douchebag though.”

“You are a douchebag.”

“We’re identical twins, so if I’m a douchebag you’re a douchebag by association,” Grayson said.

“True. You aren’t a douchebag when you’re around Indiana, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah, she wouldn’t put up with that shit.”

“You are a simp though.”

“Says you.”

“I never said I wasn’t.” Ethan shrugged, offering up a smile as he threw. “Eden really likes her by the way. Says they’d be great sister-in-laws in the future. I told her to chill with that shit though.”

Grayson missed the ball, not even bothering to watch it bounce away on the ground.

“Why?”

“Well, you said you were never going to ask her to leave, or move or whatever. And you live in LA, we live in LA, so... I mean, being here this long is just because of the tiny houses. And I know you, you can’t do long distance bro, you’re too physical.”

“Oh fuck you, I can survive without getting my dick wet if it means being with somebody I love.”

“That’s not what I fucking meant, I mean you’re touchy, and you need to be close to the people you love. Like physically close, as in in the same room, in the same house at least. That’s why I haven’t said shit about you being at her place every night of the week. I get it Gray, it’s how you are. But that shit won’t work when you’re on the other side of the country, and I know you aren’t going to ask her to fly out there to see you after how bad those flights were for her. And I love you, and I’m gonna support you, but you can’t fly home every weekend either. We have businesses, we have shit to do. Work.”

“I know that, I’m not stupid.”

“And it makes me feel like a shit brother but you always tell me that I’m supposed to keep you on track, so if that means being the bad guy then that means being the bad guy.”

“E I know.”

“I’m not saying you have to like break up with her or anything but, I just, I think it’s gonna be hard. Like really really hard.”

“Ethan. I know.”

“I just don’t want to see you hurt, that’s all.”

“Yeah. I get it. But can you just drop it for two fucking seconds? It’s almost Thanksgiving, let’s just focus on that. Besides, you’re the one who said to wait to cross the bridge when we come to it,” Grayson huffed.

“It’s the last week of November almost. Hate to break it to you, but the bridge is right in front of you.”

The thought made his stomach drop.

“Let’s go inside. S’cold.”

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

It felt unnatural to have her sister in the back seat, but that’s where Charlie climbed in after Grayson had helped them load their minimal luggage into the back of the car and made his introductions. They’d borrowed Lisa’s SUV for Devin’s sake, knowing that his long legs would be cramped in the backseat of anything, especially the truck.

“How was your flight?” Indy turned almost fully in her seat, trying to soak in every minute she had with her sister - they had to fly out bright and early the next morning.

“Bumpy,” Charlie laughed, picking at her nails in her lap. Indy frowned when she noticed - it was her nervous tick.

“Devin I have no idea how you fit in coach bro, I barely fit and I’m tiny compared to you,” Grayson chimed in, checking over his shoulder as he pulled out of the pick up lane.

“It’s a struggle my man, it’s a struggle. But I don’t think anyone in their right mind would look at you and call you tiny. You’ve got me beat in every department but leg length.”

“Hey, if you’re actually serious about growing muscle I can throw together a workout for you while you’re here.”

“For real? That would be sick bro, I could really use the help.”

Indy held back her laugh at how they both slipped into bro mode so quickly, and Charlie seemed to be on the same page as she snickered. Eventually conversation gave way to music, Indy proud of herself for finding a perfect 2000’s throwback playlist that had everyone singing and bouncing around in their seats. By the time they made it to the house, they were all a bit breathless and full of nostalgia.

When they climbed out onto the gravel, Charlie stuck close to her sister.

“Lisa is mom. And Ethan is the twin, Eden is the sister, Cameron is the girlfriend?”

“Cameron is sister, Eden is girlfriend,” Indy laughed. “Thank god you asked.”

Charlie gave a bit of a chuckle, and Indy nudged her.

“They’re good people Char. Don’t worry, they’ll love you.”

“I just… haven’t done this in a while.”

She wrapped her arm around her older sister’s shoulders as they approached the house, squeezing her lightly.

“I know sis. I know.”

Inside, Eden was trying to be subtle as she peeked through the blinds on the windows, watching the whole crew approach.

“They’re here! Come to the door, they’re here!”

“Babe, that’s creepy. Just come sit down,” Ethan laughed, waiting for Cameron to make her next move in chess.

“It’s not creepy, it’s friendly,” she countered, but she stood back from the door at the last moment to try to make it less intimidating.

“Hey guys!” Grayson’s voice boomed loud through the house as soon as he opened the door, his excitement obvious. Cam and Ethan abandoned their chess game for a moment, and Lisa came from the kitchen with a warm smile.

Indiana officially met Cameron for the first time, happy that she went in for the hug. Lisa hugged everyone, making everyone laugh when she looked up at Devin and said “my god you’re tall.”

Once everyone had met everyone, Lisa clapped her hands.

“Alright, let’s get to work!”

The Dolan’s did things in stations it seemed, which pleased Indy’s organizational side that usually went a bit crazy around the holidays. Lisa was nice enough to assign each couple a dish to work on, which of course became a competition, like everything seemed to. Indy wasn’t sure how they were going to truly compare E squared’s vegan stuffing to Charlie and Devin’s vegan mac and cheese, but she didn’t care.

Because Grayson was beaming beside her as they worked on peeling potatoes over the trash can, and everywhere she looked she saw smiles. Devin was swaying his hips to the music while Charlie tried to copy him, just a blip behind the beat. Ethan and Eden raced to see who could chop vegetables quicker until Lisa told them to slow down so someone didn’t end up needing stitches.

LIsa was the master of the operation, working on three different things at once, waving off Indy’s offer of help.

“I used to feed all three of them and their dad. Cooking for an army is second nature,” she teased, but that familiar tone was in her voice that tugged at Indy’s heart. Ethan eventually connected to the speakers and shuffled a playlist filled with everything, from Elton John to Cudi. Grayson got vegan butter on his shirt at one point while dancing too hard, and when Indy laughed he swiped it off with a finger and smeared it on her nose. The kitchen got so hot they cracked a window, with the revolving door of the oven trying to handle all the dishes and all the bodies close together.

By 2pm, everyone took turns carrying everything into the dining room to the massive which Cameron had decorated. Everyone took their places at the table, with LIsa at the head, Grayson and Ethan beside her with the girls beside them, and Charlie beside Indy, Devin beside Eden, who had seemed to hit it off with him in their short few hours of knowing each other, and Cam at the other head.

“Before we start, I think we should all go around and share something that we’re thankful for,” Lisa proposed. “I’ll start. I’m very thankful for my health, and for my family. For my wonderful daughter, and my amazing boys, and my husband, who I love and who watches over us every day.”

She could only speak for herself, but it was a safe bet that everyone’s throats tightened. Ethan cleared his before he spoke.

“I’m thankful for my family, for the quality time we get to spend together. For my brother’s ability to deal with my ass and his help in chasing our dreams and making that shit happen. And for Eden, because… well just because.”

Eden laid her head against his shoulder for a moment before she spoke up.

“I’m thankful for my dream job, and getting to do something I love every day. I’m thankful for Ethan, for loving me and keeping me sane. And I’m thankful for all of you, especially you Lisa, for welcoming me into the family.”

“I’m thankful to be here, to meet new people and get to eat some awesome food. Thank you, for inviting us in and sharing your holiday with us,” Devin said, polite as ever.

“I’m thankful for the wine,” Cam grinned, sipping from her glass quickly just to get an eye roll out of her mom. “And for all of you, and good food, and for family. Charlie?”

Charlie threw Indy a nervous glance before she spoke.

“I’m thankful for my sister, and my boyfriend, who always keep me together and on track, and who make me laugh. And I’m thankful for new friends, and good food.”

Indy had been so intent on listening to everyone else that she hadn’t even thought of her own response.

“I’m thankful for my sister, and for all of you guys, who have been so kind to me. I’m thankful for this guy,” she bumped Grayson’s shoulder. “For loving me, and supporting me in everything I do. And, I’m thankful for the years I had with my mom. I wish she could be here today, but I know she’s up there watching, and she’s thankful that I have you guys.”

She ignored the way her eyes stung, turning to Grayson, who squeezed her thigh under the table.

“I’m thankful for my family, and for the way that dad guided us to be who we are today - all of us Dolan’s. And I’m thankful for Indy for showing me what strength and determination looks like. And for everyone here, because we’re all family. I love you guys.”

The weight of his words hung in the air for a moment as everyone soaked them in.

“Alright, dig in!” Lisa broke the silence, reaching for the rolls.

Grayson squeezed Indy’s thigh once, tracing a little heart with his index finger when she leaned over to kiss his cheek before turning back to the table. They all ate until their plates were clear, almost all of them heading back in for seconds. The final verdict was that the vegan mac and cheese was the winner of the side dish competition, much to the pride of Devin. The evening settled into various activities, from Grayson teaching Devin proper pull up form to Charlie letting Eden take test shots on her camera. Indy mostly watched from the sidelines, happy to see all the people she loved all together in one place.

Her family.

“Thank you for this.” Lisa’s voice startled her a bit, but she relaxed when the older woman moved to stand beside her.

“I should be thanking you!”

“No. We didn’t do Thanksgiving last year. Everything was still too… raw, I suppose. Everyone is here because you asked them to be. So, thank you, truly.”

The tears that Indy had been fighting all day finally found their place on her cheeks, and she sniffled through a laugh when Lisa hugged her.

“Well, thanks for sharing your family.”

“It’s not sharing if you’re a part of it my dear.”

She pulled her close for a hug before the two of them folded themselves into the mix, running around in the cold air of the backyard and enjoying each other’s company as the night drew to a close. They opted for pie and vegan ice cream to finish off the night, and Charlie insisted they take some pictures before the food comas took over. She’d thought ahead enough to bring a tripod, and she sat it up in the living room, making sure every couple got a few that they liked, and that they all got one together. Lisa requested one of just her kids where they of course all goofed off enough to annoy her. Charlie would send them all in the next few days, Indy’s favorite being the one of her on Grayson’s back, wrapped around to kiss his cheek while he grinned with his eyes squeezed shut. It became her lock screen as soon as she saved it, and Lisa went on to get the family one framed, as well as the one of all of them together too, both beside each other on the mantel held with equal importance.

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

The Thanksgiving leftovers only lasted two days in Indy’s fridge. With the stress of preparing for four cumulative finals, she didn’t have time to cook anything, and the microwaveable vegan leftovers were a god send. So was Grayson, who stayed by her side each day as she studied, quietly keeping himself busy with work until she needed him. It was a nice co-existence, both of them understanding the need for quiet but enjoying each other’s presence nonetheless. By Wednesday, she was only left with one last final, though it was her hardest, and she couldn’t convince herself that she’d prepared enough despite pulling multiple all nighters. He quizzed her when she asked, even though he butchered half the pronunciations. His commentary was the comedic relief she needed to get through it though, and she was more than grateful that he was there.

“Last set, and then you need to take a break.”

“But-”

“No buts. Unless you’re talking gluteus maximus.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes. “Baby you’ve been going non stop for 4 hours now.”

“Okay fine, hit me with it.”

“Soleus.” She pointed to the side of his calf. “Extensor carpi ulnaris.” The outer side of his forearm. “Zygomaticus major.” His cheek. “Iliopsoas.” The inside of his thigh.

“Dee, you know these. You literally don’t even have to think about it, you know them.”

She shook her head before he even finished his sentence. “I need more practice.”

“The only thing you need more of is sleep,” he countered. “C’mon, we’re both exhausted, let’s just take a nap.”

“Once we finish the set, then we can.”

“Fine. Serratus anterior.”

She tickled his ribs, making him squirm away from her.

“Biceps femoris.” She heaved his leg up from where it was resting on the couch, pointing to a spot in the middle of the back of his thigh.

“Teres major.” It was a reach, but she made it around to the back of his armpit.

“Teres minor.” She poked the same spot, just a bit harder.

“Okay, ouch, don’t abuse my teres. Uh, gastrocnemius.” She was gentler on his calf.

They went through the rest of the stack like that, with Grayson doing his best to say them correctly while Indy poked and prodded.

As soon as he flipped the last card he yawned, sitting the stack aside and leaning forward to grab her, dragging her on top of him and nuzzling his nose into her hair. Indy sighed and relaxed into him, his warmth and the weight of his arms settling her body down. She could remember the days where she’d always wanted something as simple as this, just laying on her couch with someone to hold, and she tried to soak it in.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you more,” Grayson countered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His hands moved under her shirt over her back, finding space.

R-E-L-A-X

“Can’t. My mind won’t stop.”

“Well, I’d offer to sing to you or some shit, but your ears would probably bleed,” he chuckled.

“S’okay. I’ll just dream about muscles or something. Innervations.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Oh yeah, riveting stuff.”

She wiggled around to get comfortable, her cheek squished against his chest as he rubbed her back.

“Sleep, have your little anatomy dreams,” he teased, reaching over the back of the couch for a blanket to drape over the two of them.

It took a little while, but she managed to drift off to the soothing sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his fingers against her skin.

And she dreamed.

Indiana was in a hallway. White, smooth walls with doorways that stood black and brooding on either side. Her stomach turned a bit, unease washing through her veins as she took a few small steps forward, moving to peek past one of the frames.

“Don’t sweetheart.”

Her head shot up. At the end of the hall was Nicole. She looked young, even younger than Indy’s last memories of her. Youthful, and full of life, her blonde hair familiar as it hung down and framed her face.

“Mom.”

“Hi my love.”

Indiana ran. She barreled past the doors, not even giving them a second thought as she finally, finally landed in her mother’s arms. The tears were inevitable, but she didn’t care that she shook as Nicole held her, the way only a mom could. Held her body, but held her soul.

“Where have you been? Where’d you go?”

“I’ve been here the whole time. Right here with you.”

“I miss you. I miss you so much.”

“I know. But I’m here.”

She pulled back, letting her mom brush her hair behind her ear the way she always used to when it fell into her eyes.

“Look at you. You’re all grown up. Look at those beautiful eyes. So blue.”

“Just like yours,” Indy said.

“Just like mine.”

A part of her knew that she was dreaming. She knew her mother was gone, that this wasn’t real. But her heart refused to accept it, because she could feel her mother’s skin, hear her voice, feel her like she hadn’t been able to in so long. So she just stared. Tried to memorize every part of her face, every smile line, every freckle. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but Nicole was the one to break the silence.

“Baby. I need you to be careful.”

Indy frowned. “Careful?”

“With your heart. I need you to be careful with your heart, with my heart.”

“Momma what do you mean?”

Nicole looked to the left. Indy followed her gaze, surprised to see that the light was on in the doorway.

The doorway to Bekah’s room.

“Beks,” she breathed. Her feet automatically moved, taking her into the room until Nicole’s arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her back.

“Indiana,” Nicole cautioned. “No.”

“No, no Mom it’s okay, she’s getting better, see? Look, she’s fine.”

She pushed forward, but Nicole’s grip only tightened.

“No baby. Look.”

Indy listened. And she watched. Watched Bekah try to sit up in her bed. She was probably calling for Jessica, or Emily, or maybe even Indy. Her mouth opened, and no sound came out, her eyes going wide for a moment before she fell back against the pillows, chest rising too fast, too shallow. Indy knew what that meant.

“No. NO! Beks! Bekah!”

“Shhhhh baby, there’s nothing you can do, Indiana stop, there’s nothing you can do.”

“BEKAH!” She cried anyways, fighting her mother’s grip as she watched the monitors light up, heard their mocking monotone calls as they alarmed. Nurses appeared, and Indy watched them do all the right things, give all the right medicine.

She didn’t wake up.

“No, no no no no,” Indy wailed, thrashing in her mother’s arms.

“Indiana. Indiana. Dee!”

She was back in her living room, and Grayson was scared.

“Wha-” she looked around, bewildered. She was sitting up, which disoriented her a bit, though she was with it enough to realize she was still in Grayson’s lap.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re safe,” Grayson said, eyes still wide. He pushed her hair back out of her face as she looked down, only then realizing that she’d balled up his shirt in her hands. She let go, looking at the disheveled fabric, which was also splotched with dark spots.

“I’m- sorry, I don’t… I uh… I had a nightmare. Sorry.”

“It’s okay baby,” Grayson murmured. “You okay?”

Those two words brought on a whole other wave of tears, and she crumpled into him, shaking her head as she cried.

It took him by surprise for a moment - he knew she didn’t like to cry, and he’d never really seen her so upset. So he took a moment to process, and then he lifted her arms up over his shoulders, coiling his own around her and squeezing her to him as tight as he could without crushing her. He didn’t speak. He just held her, let her get it out of her system, whatever it was.

When her sobs turned to sniffles and his shirt was fully soaked through on the shoulder, he spoke up.

“What do you need? What can I do?”

She pulled back from him, frame seeming even smaller somehow as she sat there.

“Can you go check on Bekah? I know it’s Wednesday, and I know we’re going to tomorrow but… you don’t have to, I just, I know she’s alone up there, but I have so much work to do, and-”

“I can go. I’ll go,” he said. The pieces fell together in his brain, and he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you,” she exhaled, shoulders slumping back down.

“Are you gonna be okay here by yourself while I’m gone?”

“Yeah, I need to study anyways, I’ll keep myself busy. Just need to know she’s okay.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure she’s good, might hang out for a bit and watch something if she’s up for it.”

“That sounds amazing. Thank you.”

He didn’t like the idea of leaving her there, but he could tell she wouldn’t have any peace of mind until she knew that Bekah was okay. It reminded him off all the times he’d called his mother in the middle of the night in those last few months before he’d officially come home, just to make sure his dad was still there.

“If you need me, call me okay? I’ll turn back around.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I love you,” she said, kissing him quickly.

“I love you more.”

He shifted her off him onto the couch and got up, putting his shoes and coat on quickly before he could convince himself to stay. It was already dark outside despite it only being 6pm, and he kept his head down on the streets on his way to the hospital, mind racing until he got up to the unit and signed in.

He half expected Bekah to be lying still in her bed, on her back with all her machines on. Or, at least for her to be drained and tired like she had been the last few times they saw her. But when he cleared the doorway she was sitting up in bed on her phone, random Tik Tok audio’s playing. She looked up at him and smiled her brightest smile.

“Earrings! It’s a Wednesday, the fuck are you doing here?!”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“You get an extra dose of me this week, deal with it,” he teased, unzipping his coat and laying it over one of the chairs.

“Where’s Indy?”

“Studying for finals. It’s a me you date tonight, you pick. What’re we doing?”

“Well, I restarted Vampire Diaries.”

“Restarted? Bro, you were on season 7 yesterday!”

“Yeah so? The best seasons are the first two, we’ve been over this.”

“Whatever, scootch over.”

She did as he asked, though he had to put the bedrails down to even fit halfway on the mattress.

“Here, get in here so we can send some motivation to Dee,” he said, pulling out his phone and opening snapchat. They moved so just their noses-up were on screen, making Bekah laugh as he sent it off.

She screenshotted it and sent back a heart, which put his mind at ease enough to relax and attempt to enjoy an episode, though he wasn’t really following the plot considering they were almost halfway through the first season.

“So, what’s happening exactly?” He finally asked 20 minutes into the episode.

“Stefan is trying to be all ‘you deserve better than me’, and Damon just doesn’t give a shit. Essentially, Stefan doesn’t want to hurt Elena so he wants her to make the decision to break it off so he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t want to be the bad guy.”

“But if he loves her, then why does he want to break it off at all?”

“Well cause he’s bad for her. She would have to give up so much for him. She’s having to lie to her friends, hide all this stuff for him. Change her whole life really. But she wants to, because she loves him, he just doesn’t think it’s fair to ask that of her. But like… he’s still asking her to do it just by being with her, you know?”

He knew.

“I mean, and he’s a fucking vampire. Yah know, suck suck and all that jazz,” Bekah laughed. “If the rest isn’t a deal breaker, then that definitely is. I mean, yeah, Damon’s a vampire too but at least he just accepts it, and he doesn’t ask her to change or anything.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I’m Team Damon, if you couldn’t tell,” she tried again.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Grayson tried to shake himself out of his thoughts, but it was proving difficult. Luckily, Bekah just mistook it as him being super invested in the show, which made her happy. Jessica let him stay an extra fifteen minutes, and he took a quick video of Bekah wishing Indy luck on her last final before he left and headed out.

The walk home was worse. It was darker somehow, colder as his mind raced with realization after realization. He did his best to do the math in his head. It was December 3rd, which meant 30 days until he was supposed to go back to LA. All the way to the other side of the country, only coming back to Jersey every few months if he was able to. Ethan’s voice rang in his head as he trudged through the lobby and into the elevator.

That shit won’t work when you’re on the other side of the country.

He tried to breathe it off, put on a positive face before he opened Indy’s apartment door, smiling when he saw her on the couch, pencil tucked behind her ear as she looked over diagrams.

“Hi! How was it?”

“It was good, she’s good. Looks great actually.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket once, then again, and he pulled it out to check it.

A notification of a payment from the joint bank account, and then a text from E.

Booked the flights for the 2nd. Hope that’s cool.

“Everything okay?” Indy asked.

He put his phone back in his pocket and smiled.

“Yeah. Everything is fine.”

#lmao at me not formatting this right haha #lets try again!#mixtape #grayson dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan fanfiction #let me know what you think in exchange for my eternal love

73 notes · View notes

etherrealoblivion · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter Seven: Spencerspective

Table Of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 2,512

MASTERLIST

Spencer didn’t fall asleep for hours. He tried not to keep watching the door, but keeping Y/N safe was more important than rest.

If you're exhausted tomorrow how are you supposed to protect her?

Finally, with that thought in his mind, he let himself succumb to slumber, which was surprisingly easy with Y/N cuddled against him.

After a night of horrible dreams and tossing and turning, he woke up to the wonderful smell of shampoo and flowers. Following his nose and breathing deeply, eyes still closed, he found himself suddenly with a face full of hair.

Spencer yanked back, eyes blowing open.

No. No. No.

It all came back in a rush. She’d gotten closer to him, holding him tighter than anyone had in a long time. And he hadn’t resisted. He’d given in to her so quickly.

It wasn’t like he didn’t like her. He did. Too much. His job was to protect her, not fall in . . . fall for her. Plus, it was taking advantage. She was only getting close to him because he was protecting her. It was a whole reverse Florence Nightingale situation. If they’d met anywhere else, she wouldn’t have given him a second glance.

But now, with her back pressed up against him — a little too much — how could he resist.

He had to. He couldn’t hurt her like that. He was just going to slip out of bed and go back to the floor. Without waking her up. Easy.

“Mm,” she moaned, stretching her spine and snuggling against him tighter.

Oh no. There was no way he could sneak away with one of his arms under her head and the other wrapped tightly around her waist. Not without waking her up.

How had he even gotten into this position? Looking back, it was his fault for pointing out just how large her bed truly was.

Wiggling a bit, she pulled a pillow closer, pushing herself even closer to him.

Now another problem was . . . rising. Literally.

It was a no-win situation. He could slip out of bed, almost definitely waking her up resulting in a potentially huge misunderstanding. Or, she’d wake up before he could leave the bed and certainly feel his. . . .

He had to get up.

As gently as he could, he removed his hand from her waist and slipped the other one out from under her head, placing it softly back on the pillow.

Her whimper at the loss of his warmth was like a dagger through the heart. More than anything, he wished he could jump back in bed with her and comfort her, holding her how he’d wanted to last night. How he’d found himself holding her this morning.

Why are you so crazy for this girl?! You barely know her!

“Spencer?” even with hours of sleep, her voice was still so melodic. If he weren’t so cold without her against him, he would have melted.

“Hey,” he said softly — too softly, get it together, Spencer!

“Is everything okay?” she rubbed her eyes sleepily, adorably.

“Yeah, yeah, I just, um, had to go to the bathroom. I didn’t wanna wake you.”

“What time is it?”

He glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Nearly 1:30.”

“PM?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus.”

She sat up and blinked, looking at the space on the bed where Spencer had been.

Spencer cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him.

“What do you want to do today?” He tried to say it casually like he cared more about what they’d do rather than what she wanted to do. It was unclear if that had come across.

“I don’t know,” she wasn’t meeting his eyes. “I kinda wanna go out?”

Spencer froze.

“Go out? Like on a . . .” he trailed off.

“Like a date,” she mumbled, then, quickly: “As a cover, of course. I just think it might be a good distraction.”

But Spencer was already shaking his head fervently.

“It’s too dangerous. In fact, nightclubs are responsible for about 60 percent of rapes and 20 percent of murders. It’s the perfect place to commit most crimes. No one is paying any attention and—“

“Spencer!” she interrupted, “I didn’t mean a nightclub. I mean, seeing you dance sounds amazing but that’s not really my scene. What about like a restaurant?”

“A restaurant?”

He considered it. Respectable restaurants had professional waiters, unlike nightclubs; better security; and, best of all, they were more spaced out, meaning less opportunity for a stranger to get close. He’d have to be on high alert, though.

“I know a great place nearby,” she spoke up, breaking his train of thought.

“I don’t know. . . .” he said, still wary.

“It’s walking distance.”

His mistake was meeting her eyes. She looked so hopeful, so helpless. Oh god, there was a hint of puppy dog eyes. How could he resist?

Seriously, how?

“Okay,” he said, giving in as she let out a little squeak of happiness, heart warming at the sound. “But at the slightest danger, we leave.”

“Yes! Of course!”

“And no alcohol.”

She hesitated for a split second, then sighed.

“Yes, okay.”

“And no dancing,” he added, sliding into the bathroom, leaving the door partially open.

“WHAT!?”

“Hey, it’s almost seven.”

Spencer and Y/N had been slumped on the couch for hours watching old episodes of Doctor Who and arguing about the science of time travel.

“Time doesn’t work that way! It’s like a line.”

“But what if you went back and changed something?”

“No, no, no, you can’t do that because it would have already happened. Like if you in the future traveled to right now, it would happen right now, but since you didn’t just now, then it doesn’t happen in the future. It’s the rules of physics.”

She’d scoffed at that.

“Maybe time doesn’t follow the rules of physics.”

“Okay, speaking as a certified genius with a Ph.D. in Chemistry, you are on dangerous grounds.”

And then she’d thrown a pillow at him, the both of them descending into giggles.

Spencer had almost forgotten why he was there. Why he was really there.

“Oh, yeah. Should we go?”

Y/N laughed derisively, gesturing to her t-shirt and pajama shorts.

“Not like this. Gimme fifteen minutes.”

She jumped up and ran to her bedroom, closing the door.

“Door open!” Spencer reminded her.

She stuck her head out and blew a raspberry but she did leave the door slightly ajar. Not enough that he could see what she was doing, just enough to know that she was safe.

Meanwhile, he rummaged through his bags, trying to find something appropriate to wear. Everything he had was either too casual or way too casual.

Finally settling on a cornflower blue dress shirt, a grey sweater to wear over it, dark slacks, and a jet black tie, he stood, waiting by the door and fidgeting with his sweater so it covered his revolver. He knew it made her nervous and didn’t want to put any stress on her that could be avoided.

The door to her room opened and Spencer’s head shot up. His jaw practically dropped.

Sure, her outfit was dazzling, small sparkly black heels, a short swishy blue dress that was both casual and classy (and happened to match his shirt), and long dangly earrings with little clocks on the ends, but what really got him was the way she was looking at him. Expectantly, patiently.

He realized she was waiting for him to say something.

“You look . . .” he tried so hard to think of a compliment that expressed his awe while remaining professional. “Stunning.”

A smile lit up her face and Spencer’s heart soared.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said, adjusting his tie.

The contact made him jump.

“Ahem, shall we?” he opened the door and held out his elbow for her to take.

“We shall.”

So she took his arm and they set off into the night, locking the door securely behind them.

An hour later, they walked up outside a small bistro, Spencer slightly out of breath.

“When you said walking distance. . . .”

“Three miles is walking distance!” she said defensively.

“For superman!”

“Oh come on! You’re in the FBI, I'm sure you do your fair share of chasing bad guys.”

“I’m an FBI profiler. And while I do enjoy the occasional walk through the park, exercise isn’t exactly my strong suit,” he explained, gesturing to his lanky body.

“Suppose not. Then again, I saw the way you ran after that blue car. I know you’ve got some hidden muscles under all that . . . dork.”

He feigned offense at her remark.

“Pardon me, ma’am, I am a nerd. Very big difference.”

“Mm-hmm. Something only a dork would know,” she laughed, booping his nose and walking into the restaurant, Spencer taking a moment to be shocked before following her.

They got a nice table by the window at her request. It seemed she knew the waiter, calling him by his name and exchanging a brief greeting, introducing Spencer as Doctor Reid.

“Have you been here a lot?”

“No, never, but the waiter here, Tom, works at my regular coffee shop. Barista by day, waiter by night.”

Spencer laughed softly.

Okay, so she’s never been here before, meaning she’s never been here before with a guy, meaning she wanted to take you somewhere special. Meaning she likes y—

“Stop it!” he muttered to himself through gritted teeth.

“Hmm?”

Spencer blushed.

“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering about what to order. I don’t really go to a lot of restaurants, to be honest.”

“Me either,” she smiled softly at him and Spencer found himself smiling back.

“Ready to order, Doctor Reid?” The waiter said, smiling.

“Ladies first,” Spencer said, relishing in the way Y/N smiled at him. This would be a long night.

“ . . . and the whole point of his writing is to experience a whole new idea of life!”

“Did you even read Walden?”

After the food came, a chicken empanada for Spencer and a bowl of pasta for Y/N, the conversation had somehow shifted to a heated discussion of what Henry David Thoreau’s ideals were.

“I’ve read . . . parts.”

Spencer gave her a doubtful look and she sighed.

“I’ve read the Sparknotes.”

“Exactly! His point is to go live in the forest to achieve inner peace. The problem is, as humans, we need society and interactions with others in order to function. I actually had a coworker who had a cabin in the woods and he never mentioned becoming one with nature.”

“Well, maybe he just picked the wrong forest. Like, I couldn’t relax in the Forbidden Forest. It’s all about location.”

“Forbidden Forest?”

“Like from Harry Potter.”

Spencer glanced away.

“You’ve never read Harry Potter?” she said incredulously.

“Nope,” he blushed. “I’ve always preferred—“

“Oh god, please don’t say Twilight.”

“Nooo,” Spencer chuckled, “I was gonna say I prefer Doyle’s works.”

“Oh, I love Doyle!” she said happily. “Everybody always talks about Sherlock Holmes but have you read The Narrative of John Smith? It’s definitely some of his best work.”

Spencer’s mind went haywire. She had brought up his favorite book of all time in casual conversation. Who was this girl?

“Spencer?”

He snapped out of his daydream and looked at the woman in front of him. She was working on two doctorates, she loved Doyle and Doctor Who, she owned a goddamn bookstore, and she walked almost everywhere. How was he not supposed to fall for her?

“Spencer?”

“Yes, yeah, sorry.”

The waiter came up and placed the check next to him.

“For the gentleman.”

Avoiding eye-contact, Spencer took out his wallet to pay.

“Hey!” she swatted his hands away, making him drop his wallet into his lap. “We‘re not leaving yet! What’s the rush?”

This relaxed him a little. His nerves were starting to get to him. C’mon, Spencer, you’re a professional. Get it together.

“There’s no rush!” he quickly recovered. “I was simply checking to see if I had the adequate resources for the evening,” he smiled widely, waggling his eyebrows. But she had frozen, a shocked expression on her face.

“What?” she breathed.

Spencer cocked his head, not understanding her confusion. He was clearly reaching into his wallet for a surprise. What other resources did people keep in their walle—

Then it hit him.

“Oh! Oh, no I meant. . .” he fumbled with his wallet, trying desperately to pull out—

“This!” a shiny golden key. “I, uh, have a surprise planned.” It was extremely hard not to blush, and he was even less sure he was succeeding.

But, upon seeing her face contort into one of excitement, he was reassured.

“Okay! What are you waiting for? Let’s go now!”

And she jumped up, leaving the appropriate change in the check.

“C’mon!” Spencer was about to protest her paying, but she was grabbing his hand and pulling him out of his seat, out of the restaurant.

“Hey, I’m supposed to be surprising you, here!” he protested, stopping her just outside the door.

“Fine, lead the way, Doctor,” she giggled, bowing deeply.

Spencer curtseyed and walked off in the direction they had come, his woman on his arm.

A woman, he corrected himself. Not his.

“So,” Y/N said after a while of walking, “Where are you taking me?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

“Ha. You know, statistically, around eighty percent of people who say that, secretly love them.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” she spun around and started to walk backward, maintaining eye contact, “but I’m not exactly a person that most statistics apply to.”

“So you don’t like surprises?”

She frowned.

“Touché.”

Spencer laughed as she spun back around, walking next to him. Their footsteps became a rhythm and they stayed silent for a while, just enjoying each other’s company.

Then, Y/N’s footsteps started to falter, breaking the pattern.

“You ok?” Spencer knew that people favoring the balls of their feet while walking was a sign of anxiety.

Rather than answer verbally, she yanked him down a dark alleyway, pushing against him.

“Y/N?”

She was holding him against her, her own back to the brick wall.

“I’m sorry, Spencer, this isn’t how I wanted it.”

“What are you sor—Mmf—“

A hand snaked around his tie and pulled him down sharply. Their lips met in an instant.

He should have pulled away. He should have stayed professional. He should have done anything but what he did.

Hands flying to the side of her face, he pulled her closer, coaxing open her mouth and moaning softly into it, feeling her hands travel down his waist, running along his belt.

Her lips were so soft. He’d wanted this so bad. And now that she was against him, lips against his, he realized how much he’d needed it. It wasn’t fair to her. He’d deal with that later.

But before he could process anything else, a sudden weight left his hips, her lips left his, and the unmistakable noise of a gunshot rang through the air behind him.

@aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13 @yourmisosoup @queenofthebees003 @pinkdiamond1016 @eu-solidao

#matthew gray gubler #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #ao3 #criminal minds #fluff #humor #angst

259 notes · View notes

squeeneyart · 4 years ago

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 20

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger!

Simon and Martin have a chat.

Martin accepts some advice.

When Martin passed the front gate the world behind him disappeared, replaced by cold, grey mist and stone.

Staring back the way he came only made it harder to remember what had been before, and his head felt the pressure of distance with no point of reference. Something deep inside him knew the perils of walking anywhere but the path leading him to the Fairchild house; to step anywhere else would see him tumbling out and away from the only landmark he had left.

Waiting for him at the front door was the woman who’d taken the sketchbook from him, this time without the veneer of professional courtesy. The hooded jumper, worn jeans, and disinterested wave announced to the world an interrupted day off. If his damp, miserable self was an affront to her sensibilities, she wasn’t showing it, so the wet jacket stayed on.

In his nerves he hadn’t really registered her appearance during their first meeting, too focused on getting rid of the evidence of his crime. She was older, maybe in her 60s, with long grey hair tied back into a low ponytail. He hadn’t seen her about town before, had he?

They walked inside without any chitchat, so Martin glanced about in silence. The interior felt right if his memory served, the same skinny halls and windows stretching from floor to ceiling. The most striking aspect still was the mural at the top of the central staircase. The rest of the house was dwarfed by it, as if the grand building was no greater than his hometown’s silhouette tucked into the corner of the canvas.

Approaching it, the colors were more. More intense, more bold, all the brightness stolen from the world outside siphoned into an impossible sky. Maybe anything would look that much more when contrasted with where he’d been. He was at the top of the stairs standing at its center wondering if there was any distance that could give him a proper view of the whole.

From behind him the woman cleared her throat, though she didn’t seem irritated. He pulled himself away from the spot where he’d stopped to stare, leaving slippery footprints in his wake.

Glancing up at the mural, she only said, “Some things demand attention.”

She led him to the same room from his first visit with its outward wall of glass. Across the room sat Simon, his back facing those large, unbelievably clear windows that now overlooked the fog-covered landscape. Martin heard the woman’s retreating footsteps and the click of the door.

Martin breathed out, keeping a few feet between himself and the old man. He waved stiffly at the windows. “It’s a bit late. I was expecting this to happen last week.”

With that pleasant smile unmoving, Simon motioned for Martin to sit in the chair across from him. “Don’t be ridiculous. That event will be much more exciting. I wanted to put this meeting together, and needed a good mix of quick and fun.”

“Starting to question my understanding of ‘fun’,” Martin mumbled. He took the seat offered to him and crossed his arms over his chest, the rainwater he carried in seeping into the plush fabric. “It seems like I’m always on the losing side of someone else’s.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Simon hummed, leaning back comfortably in his chair. “So you’d prefer something more exciting in your invitations, so you’re not left out? Did my little errand turn you into a thrill-seeker already?”

“No.” A shiver ran through him, not of fear but of an awful, biting cold. The wet of his hair sapped the heat right out of him and pulled his ponytail down heavy onto his neck. “What do you want?”

“Oh, a bit moody today, aren’t we?” The smile was still sitting idly on Simon’s face. “Peter’s been around more often, I can tell. He does that to people, sucks all patience and goodwill out until they’re… well.” He flicked his eyes over Martin with something like pity.

Martin pressed his arms tighter into himself. “So what, you push people into the sky, and he does that?”

Simon laughed without a hint of shame. “Goodness, no. Peter is just like that, no strangeness needed. I’ve often left his company feeling completely drained and irritable, though I’ve found ways to ensure the feeling is mutual.”

“Good friends, then.”

“As much as he can have them.” Simon leaned forward, no hint of bitterness in his voice or expression. “A very close-to-the-chest type, I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

With a sharp exhale, Martin said, “Look, if you’re going to ask me for a favor I’m not-”

“Now, now, I’m not one to drag on a favor forever, and you’ve paid in full. Besides, Peter is much too jumpy right now for anything to be done.” Simon turned his gaze toward the window. “I’m afraid all any of us can do now is wait.”

A jolt of disappointment shocked Martin to silence. All of this dramatic nonsense just to be told to wait and see? He hadn’t had any specific expectations, but deep down he’d believed Simon to be plotting something soon. That even if it was a horrible outcome Martin wouldn’t be left in suspense from every angle of his life.

Whatever shoe was meant to drop, it hadn’t, and it wouldn’t for some unspecified amount of time.

Simon regained his easy tone and continued, “And I greatly dislike this weather, all of these things clouding my view. Soon I’ll be going weeks without a clear day, and it can feel so… so claustrophobic. So little to work with on a day like this.”

He wasn’t the one who needed to walk in it. “You’re not going to explain anything, are you?”

“No, I’m not. You know how these things are. Business.” Reaching into his pocket, Simon pulled out a small envelope. “Speaking of, like a pouting child Peter has been avoiding me, and as far as I can tell you’re the only person who actually sees him.”

With a deep sigh Martin leaned forward, elbows resting on knees. Not only was he getting nothing out of Simon, but- “This is all so I can be a messenger boy?”

“Just the one time, if Peter can be reasonable.”

“I don’t- Wait. Why not trap him like you did me? Just force him to your door.”

With a sudden laugh that made Martin jump, Simon replied, “Not everyone is as easy to find as you. And anyway, it’s not wise to do that to friends, is it?”

It wasn’t a way to keep friends, no, and he took the message from Simon without further comment. On the other side of the room, the door opened to reveal that woman. Not needing prompting he stood, looking back one more time at the other man.

Simon remained seated and swung one more friendly smile in Martin’s direction. “You’ll be seen out, then. I must thank you for your previous help, Martin. The personal significance alone can’t be overstated. It’s not my only sketchbook, of course, but several of my best works had their beginnings in it.” Was that glint in his eye one of creative pride, or was there some joke Martin was missing?

The tiniest desire to stay and hear more itched at the back of his mind, but the dismissal was clear and he let the woman lead him back through the house. Once outside he saw the weather had taken a turn for the worse into a complete downpour. The high wind would certainly blow his hood down, making for a wretched walk ahead of him.

“Ah.” He’d been taken to the Fairchild house on an impossible route, but the way home was entirely real. “I have a long way to walk.”

“Inconveniences all around,” the woman said, shutting the door behind him.

Once he was alone he ripped the phone from his pocket and and bent over it to delete his dramatic messages before they could be seen, replacing it with:

Martin: talked with simon (didnt really have a choice), dont think anything will happen with him for a while

Martin: said all we can do is wait? really cryptic

Then he pocketed it once more and walked out the front gate into the reinstated town.

The greatest relief was finding other unlucky pedestrians doing their best to stay dry along with him. Even without the ability to stop and talk he felt the silent commiseration. It wasn’t joy in the suffering of others but rather the knowledge that other people were there at all to share in the cruddy weather. He could see where a person ahead of him was avoiding puddles, and found residual warmth in the lights of nearby shop fronts. It was the kind of melancholy atmosphere that could make rain a little more bearable.

The walk down the cliff however was designed to kill him, the slope slick with mud and abandoned by an early setting sun. No waterproof phone, glasses blurred and splattered with droplets, Martin made his slow way home in the cold, in the dark. More than once he stopped to make sure he hadn’t gotten turned around by forces supernatural or otherwise, but then the ground flattened and he could finally hear the sea over the rain beating against the ground.

He was late of course, but besides some comments about tracking water into the house and forgetting his umbrella his mother had left him well alone, and even took his word when he described the weather as unsuitable for her health. He was grateful. After the last few days anything worse might’ve sent them into a screaming match to surpass any bouts they’d had in years. Maybe the day had taken as much out of her as it had from him.

Instead, after a necessary change of clothes on his part, they ate dinner and watched television, her in her chair and him on the couch. It was some old game show he vaguely remembered, not something that aired in his childhood but that he’d experienced first as reruns, the saturated colors and fuzzy image granting it a multilayered nostalgia. Someone on the screen had just answered a question and was hoping their spouse would come up with the same response.

In his pyjama pants and old t-shirt he felt little, his feet tucked under him because he hadn’t wanted to waste another pair of socks. It was as if he’d just come out of the bath with his wet hair and drooping eyes and was waiting to be told he was up too late. As if he wasn’t responsible for watching the clock himself.

His phone vibrated in the middle of the program, but if his mother noticed she chose to ignore it. Tapping the phone awake, Martin saw a notification from the group message.

Tim: ok check-in time what the hell

Tim: just saw this

So they hadn’t seen his initial messages. He breathed out in relief and typed out a reply.

Martin: some weird stuff, but everythings fine. simon made it so i had to go talk to him

Martin: whatever simon mentioned before its not coming yet. seems like he isnt in control of when whatever it is happens? also peter is avoiding him so i need to give him this letter

Tim: weird but

Tim: good? more time for us

Sasha: one less thing to worry about. glad it went okay.

Tim: ^^

He’d successfully avoided any panic or weirdness that his original messages most definitely would’ve caused and patted himself on the back for a job well done. No one needed that as a distraction.

Martin: oh right weird topic change but jon mentioned it, do you really all use a cot at work

Tim: oh yeah lol love that thing

Tim: jon is on it right now actually will pass on simon info when hes awake

Martin: youre all still there??

Tim: oh martin dont you know weve Never Left

Tim: we should get going soon tho now that you mention, will drag jon out of the archives while passing on simon info

Martin: good idea

Tim: and keep those eyes down!

Martin bit his cheek and looked past his phone at the television screen. No doubt it was karma for his rash behavior at the lighthouse, having “just wait!” shouted at him from all corners. The universe was making itself very clear. Simon could’ve just been telling him to let something terrible happen, but even if that was true Martin wasn’t in a place to stop anything.

But it was a great quality of Tim’s, rounding them all up and trying to save them from regrettable decisions. The least Martin could do was make that job easier and stay out of trouble. It was also the most he could do, as much as it irked him.

Martin: dont need to tell me twice!

And with that Martin pocketed his phone, accepting his fate of inaction.

When he finally put his mother to bed the goodnight between them was not warm, but it was closer to normal. If he’d been told that one of the most pleasant parts of his day would’ve been watching the telly after dinner with his mum, he would’ve… well, it wasn’t that strange. Really it emphasized how bad the rest of his day had been.

Meanwhile the most pleasant event felt fake, even when he checked his call logs to confirm it. What a strange start to a day, he thought as he laid in bed. At least it made up for Jon not being around that evening, that and knowing Jon was getting some sleep. The man clearly needed some prompting during an intense work period to take care of himself, and Martin silently thanked Tim for doing something about it when he couldn’t bring himself to initiate a phone conversation. He knew it was ridiculous for him to be so nervous about the idea, but…

But.

Hopefully Jon didn’t think he was rude. It was one thing to chat in person, but calling without a specific topic to discuss while the others were hard at work? Because he was bored? Best to let Jon reach out when he felt it necessary, even if it meant being woken up at odd hours on a work day and otherwise sitting on his hands. Eventually this would all be behind them and he could stop being racked with guilt over the thought of making a social call.

Martin’s stomach twisted. Yes, things would be dealt with, and he would move on from this strange period in his life.

He moved to place the phone down for the night when it buzzed in his hand, with a message in another, private chat.

Sasha: we should talk more later about what simon told you specifically. if something big is coming having someone on the inside of things might not be the worst. not saying you should seek him out, he seems perfectly of capable of contacting you, but if it happens again it could be an opportunity

Martin: you think he could be on our side?

Sasha: i think letting people say their piece can lead to understanding, even if the other person is the worst. something is going on between him and peter lukas and the more we know the better

Martin: right…

Sasha: again not saying to run into anything. wait for us etc etc but trust your gut

Martin: so your opinion on staying put?

Sasha: sometimes you cant, thats all im saying

Martin: okay, i think i get it

Sasha: good. now get some sleep, weird things tend to drain you

Martin: goodnight

Sasha: night

Well, she wasn’t wrong. He didn’t believe that Simon was a good person, not with how he’d treated Martin thus far, but that didn’t make him evil, either. And his advice was the same as what everyone else had already been saying: stay out of trouble as best he could and wait for the right moment. Even Sasha still conceded to it being the best option for the present. If Peter told him to wait as well, then Martin would be truly lost on what to do, but until then he would follow the advice of all the people who knew more than he did.

And if Simon called him to his home again, he would try to be less… difficult. And he would buy a better jacket, just in case.

The next morning, he listened to a voice message left shortly after he’d fallen into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

Jon’s groggy voice drifted from the mobile. “Hi, sorry I missed things. Wasn’t expecting Fairchild to be so forward, and my sleep schedule has never been- anyway, Tim convinced me to go back to my flat, but since I slept at the institute earlier I’m currently following a few threads to see if they lead anywhere helpful. I think I’ve reached something, but time will tell.”

He continued after a brief pause. “Seems you’re already asleep, as you should be, so I’ll let you go. Let me know if you have any questions about our other… shared interest. Good night. I hope things stay quiet.”

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #simon fairchild #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au #i swear to god theres selkie content its just very slowburn selkie content #jonmartin

25 notes · View notes