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batarella · 4 years ago

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I Don’t Hate You - Part 5 (Jason Todd x Reader)

will i ever find true love? with standards like this? will i ever find someone who’ll quench my thirst like jaybaby does?

nah.

(If you haven’t already noticed, since the reader is inspired by Jade West, ALL the songs in her singing scenes come from the covers by the iconic Liz Gillies! This one’s scene is inspired by Liz’s live story right here)

WORD: 6908 WARNINGS: EVEN MORE FLUFF BWAHAHAHAHA

Masterlist

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

Jason: ‘don’t do it.’

Jerry the science teacher was starting to catch on to him with Jason’s eyes darting to his crotch for no reason and his hand under the desk, but Jason managed to fool him by pulling out his notebook right where his phone was and pretended to take notes with his free hand. It was getting harder to hide it though, especially when he’d crack into a wide grin in the middle of a boring discussion all of a sudden. He looked like an idiot.

Y/N: ‘I’ll fucking do it.’

Jason: ‘she’ss a teaacher.’

Y/N: ‘that hasn’t stopped me before.’

Jason was writing scribbles onto his notebook at that point, lingering his eyes on the teacher for as long as he could while his other hand blindly texted barely readable typos. How were you able to text so well?

You sent another text before he could respond. ‘I’m totally doing it.’

Jason: ‘I’m sure she wasd looookin behind yuu’

Y/N: ‘no. she was definitely looking at me. Who else would she look at when she’s talking about baby murderers.’

Jason: ‘oh.’

Jason really wanted to laugh now. He double texted.

Jason: ‘I get it now.’

Y/N: ‘im not a fucking serial killer.’

Three dots floating in a bubble followed after.

Y/N: ‘yet.’

Jason kept his eyes on the board. Thankfully, this was chemistry. Bruce taught him more about that subject than Jerry ever will. He didn’t need to listen.

Y/N: ‘it’s just her divorce.’

Jason: ‘you have got to stop asking facultyyyt memberd how their divorce is going.’

Y/N: ‘why not’

Jerry definitely caught him by now. His glances at him included unbothered shakings of his head and flattened lips. But he didn’t say anything and went on with the discussion. He probably didn’t bother. Jason would end up with the highest test score no matter what he was doing in his desk. And the man had large bags under his eyes that screamed ‘I really don’t give a fuck about any of you’ to his students.

Jason: ‘you’re worse than a serial killer.’

You: ‘Im no Amelia Dyer.’

Jason: ‘remind me to look her up.’

You: ‘she killed 400 babies and had a infant farm for 20 years before she got caught.’

Jason: ‘sounds like something you’d do’

Y/N: ‘I don’t kill babies. I just scare them.’

Jason: ‘that’s the first step right there.’

You sent a middle finger and it made him silently cackle. Somehow, your sense of humor through came off a lot less dark, maybe because you didn’t sound like you were serious, when in actuality, you probably were. It didn’t matter though. He was smiling like a crazy person in the middle of a discussion about balancing equations.

Jason placed his phone back into his pocket and waited for the bell to ring so he could go meet you at the library for the fifth week since you started. You were halfway through your sentence. He never thought he’d get there. Somehow, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the end of it as he thought he would.

Just yesterday, he told himself it was wrong to enjoy watching you scream at the stoners hiding behind the encyclopedia sections knowing no one would go in there at all. You were, quite literally, kicking them out of the library while Ms. Peterson backed you up like a shrieking duo. One of them cried while you charged at him, looking like you were about to tear his hair out and you threatening to stick his blunt up his earhole.

It went from something so obnoxious to something so amusing to watch. Perhaps the wrong was in him.

Jason listened to the teacher for the last ten minutes of the class, then the bell rung and everyone started for the exit. He picked up his bag, then took out his phone to tell you he was on his way.

“Texting in class now, Todd?”

He wanted to throw his bag, or anything he had on his hands really, to that source of that voice. Brandon. Fucking Brandon. With his still throbbing new nose and football varsity jacket over his shoulders that made him look even more loathsome than he already does. He came up to Jason and stood him off.

“Every single day for the past week, you text in class.” Brandon brought his leg up to rest on a chair beside Jason. “What? You think you’re so much smarter than everyone now?”

“I’m smarter than you, that’s for sure. But that’s not really much to brag about.”

“I can tell on you, you know. How’d your GPA like that?”

“Didn’t know you were a dirty snitch, Brandon.”

“Who you texting?” he raised his arms up to intimidate him. “That psycho bitch you hang out with all the time?”

Bruce told him to keep his rage in check even more so in class than he barely does in patrols, but at that moment, in a dizzying blur, Jason skillfully pushed Brandon against the wall and pulled his fist behind him without much care for the onlooking crowd.

“Want a new nose again, jackass?”

“Fuck you-“

“ALRIGHT, ENOUGH. STEP AWAY FROM HIS NOSE.”

Jerry. Poor Jerry. The tired teacher grabbed onto Jason’s shoulder and pulled him away from the linebacker. Jason backed down, lowering his arm, then kept his glare on him while he puffed up his jacket.

“Both of you. Get out of here. Todd, you don’t want me to send you to the VP’s office again before I call your father. Everyone walk away. Yes, everyone. Walk on. Get on with your business.”

He kept his head craned down while Jerry screamed at anyone sparing him a look. Jason shoved his bag over his back and stormed out of the room. Slamming the door, he walked to the library and found an empty table waiting for him with a cart full of books at the side. Ms. Peterson had her hand on her hip, snarling at him when he took the seat. “Get to these by today, boy.”

He ignored her and sat down, leaning forward to take yet another nap with his arms folded under his head.

All it takes is one triggering moment. One thug to taunt him. One word from the Joker. One lecture from Bruce. One threat to his humanity. And now his head’s all boiled up and all he wanted to do was block out the rest of the world and take a nap. And even then, he knew he wouldn’t wake up feeling any better.

“Jason,” Bruce told him a five weeks ago, the first day of his library sentence. “Anything going on in school you should tell me about?”

“Nothing. What makes you think that?”

“You caused trouble,” he said. “You picked a fight.”

“I’m fine. I’m not letting it affect my grades.”

“This isn’t about your grades. You can't let your business from the field affect you and hurt innocent people.”

“I’m not-“

“The next time the principal calls me with you starting another fight-“

“You’ll what? Take away my phone privileges?”

“I’m taking away your suit.”

He stormed out of that room before he could say anything more. Bruce never brought it up again, but Jason knew he was going to keep his word no matter what.

Jason didn’t even notice when you took the seat across of him with that prolonged, annoyed grunt that most often came with an eye roll. You placed your bag to your side and poked at his arm.

“Ey. You gotta help me with this.”

He didn’t look up when you pulled out your notes and your textbook. “WAKE UP.”

You repeatedly patted his shoulder until he let out a large enough grunt to make him crane his head up, eye squinting at you and his black hair covering his eyes. He really needed a haircut.

“What do you want now?”

“You weren’t this grumpy this morning.” You smirked. “I have to make a lit paper.”

“Why can't you do it yourself?”

“’Cuz you're the expert here. And I need that A.”

He buried his face back into his arms. “I’m not in the mood, Y/N.”

“Come on,” you said. Your voice prolonged the last syllable and you started to sound more annoying. “Don’t be a baby.”

“Just do it and ask me questions or some shit.”

“But I need your help-“

“And by the end of this, we’re at each other’s throats. I really don’t have the time for that now.”

You backed up, scoffing. “’Cuz you have something so much better to do?”

“Yeah,” he snarled. “Like taking a nap.”

He didn’t even glance at you taken aback and ignored you cursing under your breath. “Fine. Eat a dick, asshole.”

You took your stuff and drowned them into your bag, shuffling out of the table. A girl came up to you with a voice lower than a whistle. “Uhm, excuse me-“

“NO!” you screeched, then headed for the next table before she could ask anything more. The poor girl was trembling on her knees by the time you found an empty seat and pour out everything in your bag. His head was a mess, and the silence was the first step to actually making him clear his grime-covered mind. Jason kept shutting his eyes closed and focused on the blunt colors that appeared before his eyes in the shape of spirals.

For half an hour, he kept at his nap, falling asleep for a good ten minutes before he awoke to the sound of your screaming at a guy too stupid to ask you if the seat next to you was free while you were fumbling with your assignment. Jason groaned into his arm, feeling his head swell and ache and already knowing Bruce was waiting for him at home with yet another long, agonizing lecture on picking fights he never wanted in the first place. His eyes started to hurt from the force he used to shut them close, and everything in his mind was as hot as fire.

Leaning back against the chair, he knew this was going to bite him in the ass, sooner or later.

And one of the very very very few reasons he got to smile or even laugh all day was now violently taking notes while reading a book with the most fed up, furious expression on her face. He pulled out his bag, taking a water bottle and finishing its contents down his throat before he shot up and pushed his chair back.

Jason stood in front of your desk, his hand on the back of the chair across of you and waited for you to take notice of him. Your glare was terrifying. And it actually made him want to step back for once. But he stood his ground and sighed. “Can I help?”

“Get out of here.”

“I can help you.”

“I don’t need an asswipe telling me off.”

He took the chair despite you and you stared at your notebook, still with your eyebrows arched way up.

“Sorry.”

You ignored him and kept with your notes. He peered over, his elbows on the table, and you practically hissed at him when he got too close. Raising his hands up to surrender, he snarled at him before you continued your work.

“How many of reports have you done so far?”

You didn’t look like you were going to respond, and you kept writing like he wasn’t there in front of you at all. Jason couldn’t help but smile seeing you so angry and focused, knowing you were trying your best to block him out and failing miserably when he could see your eyebrow twitch and your eyes darting at him every few seconds.

Squirming his hand to you, his finger tugged on your gray sweater and scratched you like you had an itch. You pursed your lips and pulled your fist out so you looked like you were about to punch him, but he playfully held your hand and backed off. That was when he was fully smiling by now. He could block out all other thoughts easily when it was so fun to bug you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you finally looked up to his eyes. “Come on. Let me help.”

You licked the outside of your teeth and let out a long sigh that came with your usual grunt. Knowing you’d hate and love it at the same time, he ruffled your hair and you charged at him, almost stabbing him with your pen.

You finally managed to smile, then you gave in and handed him your notebook.

“The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allan Poe,” you said. “What do you think?”

He leaned over the table, glancing at you, then taking the time to read your notes on what you understood from the passage. “This is good.”

“I’ve read the whole book like ten times by now.”

That made his chest feel just a bit warmer. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you took out the collection book he gave you. “Ms. Peterson has no idea. I’m supposed to have four weeks-worth of penalties because of this.”

Knowing he gave you something, and you happened to like it so much that you wanted it to be your report for literature class, and with you writing a decent paper about it, with you reading it over and over, it instantly became one of the things he won't easily forget.

He never grinned so much in a while, probably since a week ago in the gym. Jason watched you take back your notebook, continuing to write as he gazed too long at your parted lips. Feeling his flesh burn, he looked away.

“I won't bite you if you change anything, you know.” you said, your eyes keeping on your notes. “Go nuts.”

You tore off the page and handed it over to Jason, then you gave him a pen. Smiling at you, he took it, then started to circling words he thought you should change and other ideas he had of his own. A moment of silence, you didn’t scream anything at him when you he gave you the corrections. You graciously nodded, then started rewriting them onto a separate page. Your hair was falling to your cheeks, and it touched your skin so delicately and soft. Pretty.

So pretty.

He was gawking. He was so gawking. You’ll never let him hear the end of it. He shook his head and pretended he wasn’t just resting his chin on his hand like a teenage girl.

The thought of you reading Poe’s works still hadn’t left his mind. It wasn’t even a complete collection. There were so many more stories out there, most just on the internet. Maybe tonight, he could send some to you and you might enjoy them, too.

Or, maybe not. Patrol. Bruce has been telling him not to text so much while he was out supposedly beating criminals. But he couldn’t help it.

There was just something about making you happy, or even just smile or let out a bit of a laugh that made him feel a whip of a breezy rush. You were often sad when you were alone, and whatever you felt at school, it was so much worse at home. Everyday, you told him bits more of how it was like with your parents.

He saw so much of himself in you. You were eerily similar. Too similar. The hidden rage, the angst kept within. Maybe that was why he liked making you laugh so much.

“So what story did you like most?”

You grinned. “I’m not entirely sure. The Black Cat’s definitely up there. I don’t know. I really like all of them.”

“I’ve read that. The Black Cat,” he said, leaning back. “What makes you like it so much?”

“I like the idea of a cat being the whole reason his life goes downhill, kills his wife, and eventually gets caught. Like his whole life was being dictated by his pet.”

“That’s dark.”

“I know,” you smirked. “That’s why I like it so much.”

He had his arms crossed over on the table to cover his chest. “You becoming a serial killer seems more possible now.”

“Fuck you,” you said, sticking your tongue out.

It was almost 4:30. He didn’t even notice the clock. You and Jason had the most civil conversation, not an insult or a mean comment on anything other than a playful back and forth. You closed your notes, then your book, then you stretched out your arms.

“Ms. Peterson’s gonna be pissed. We haven’t done any work today at all.”

“Just put the cart behind that shelf over there. We’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

He laughed, and you went with him as he stood up and did exactly so. “I can take you home today. But we have to leave now. Bruce wants me to go with him on this… thing.”

“Nah.” You pulled on your sweater as you headed out the door. “I’ll stay behind. Dad’s usually awake at this time. He won't be asleep until like, an hour from now.”

Jason respectfully understood, and you watched him as he walked out through the halls, turning at the corner.

He pulled out his phone. There was a text from Bruce.

‘You coming tonight?’

He didn’t bother to respond when he was already on his way home. Yesterday, Penguin and Two Face both had their own bank robberies at opposite ends of town. He repeatedly told Bruce he could handle Cobblepot on his own, but he refused and demanded he go with him while they take them out one by one.

Jason was reluctant of course, and it wasn’t like he had a choice. But he did a great job at finishing off Two Face’s crew that it didn’t take long for them to go all the way to the other bank and catch Penguin before they even got to half the bank’s vaults. Bruce told him he had the option to go with him to patrol tonight or not, but if he were, he had to come home early and not laze around in school like he often did.

Tonight, he chose to go to patrol. He thought he needed an outlet and imagine Brandon’s face on the heads of drug dealers. The thought alone made him grin.

Jason walked out the exit and reached for his keys.

Except he totally forgot he wasn’t even wearing his bag until he’d walked to his motorcycle. Groaning as he walked back into the school’s entrance, he sprinted for the library, catching the door open just as Ms. Peterson was about to walk out with a deathly glare on her face at him. Jason ran for his bag, took it, then gave Ms. P a fun little hug before walking back out.

He took out his phone, expecting a text from you, but there was nothing. So he asked you where you were before heading back out.

Out into the now empty halls, Jason walked pass the lockers, the dark classrooms, the one bright light at the center, he kept his hands in his pockets and sighed.

Piano keys.

Piano keys?

Playing. Simple chords played out but had a familiar tune he couldn’t get out from the back of his mind.

And singing.

A voice he’s only heard so often, yet he could pick out from a million others.

The music room was one he didn’t go in too often, but the sound came from there. The door wasn’t closed, and slowly, he peered it open.

A beam so little from the window, yet he could see how your back was so straight up, how your lean fingers rested gracefully onto the keys, playing the chords in perfectly strewn out notes that he could just tell you’ve been at this for quite some time. From an angle slightly to the left, you couldn’t see him, but he could see a bit of your face, the side of it, how your eyelids looked closed looking down at your own fingers.

Then you sang.

I've seen the world, done it all

Had my cake now

Diamonds, brilliant, in Bel-Air now

Hot summer nights, mid July

When you and I were forever wild

The crazy days, city lights

The way you'd play with me like a child

Will you still love me

When I'm no longer young and beautiful?

Will you still love me

When I've got nothing but my aching soul?

I know you will, I know you will

I know that you will

Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

You…

Yeah.

You were beautiful.

So beautiful…

Will you still love me

When I'm no longer young and beautiful?

You just… kept going.

And there was nothing, not ever, in the entire length of his existence, of his years at the streets, of his few years as Robin, of his time at either a ratty apartment or a manor, of all the people he’s met, of any song that he’s heard.

Nothing. Nothing compared to your voice. Nothing compared to you.

Hot summer days, rock and roll

The way you play for me at your show

And all the ways, I got to know

Your pretty face and electric soul

Breathy, low, and everything he’s kept to remember. His chest never felt so light, yet his heart was beating out of his ribcage. His bag was almost dropped down his shoulder, his mouth was parted, his face deeply flushed. Even when you played the wrong note, cursed, then went on just as perfectly as you ever could, he couldn’t tear his eyes off of you.

His eyes were so relaxed on you, and nothing, not even his trembling shoulders could make him look away.

You reached the higher notes with a perfect falsetto, then your voice echoed out even with the room as small as a stuffy classroom. His eyebrows were up to his forehead and he didn’t know if he was still breathing, when he was standing so still, frozen like a block of ice.

You had so much deepness and soul, and you were often whispering the words, but then your voice would go up in a perfect blend.

Perfect. That was all he could think of. Perfect.

His bag was on the floor now, the only thing keeping it up was a single finger.

Lana Del Ray. You sung it better than her. In his most humble, honest, totally not biased opinion. Shit, he even felt like he wanted to cry. His chest was heaving and his face never burned up so much, at almost the end of the song, he finally had it in him to move from his place and throw himself back against a wall.

Breathe. Fucking breathe.

Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

Will you still love me when I'm not young and beautiful?

That last note, you breathed it out so nicely, it went straight into his soul, biting his lip, then closing his eyes.

He smiled like the biggest fucking idiot for the nth time that very day.

Jason looked like a fourteen year old girl cooing over a boyband. He laid his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling, hearing you sing vocal runs and pressing randomly at the piano. And he couldn’t stop showing his teeth, his face was hurting like a bitch, but fuck.

FUCK.

He’s never felt anything like this. Like his head was lighter than the air around him, lighter than the softness of your falsetto. He was still catching his breath and grinning above him, then at the ground, then back at the wall. It wasn’t on what he stared at. Your voice ringing in his ears, like angels were flying around playing their little harps over his head, like the sun was shining so brightly against him that he couldn’t see even a smidge of darkness anywhere in the world. How your face scrunched up, how your eyebrows raised, how you’d close your eyes and feel the song as it flew out your lips.

He rubbed on his chin and mouth to ease his aching muscles. Jason kept with his breathing, the fluttering in his chest. Everything. Everything.

Jason needed to wash his face with ice cold water at this point, gathering enough courage, he looked back into the room.

You were staring back at him.

-----

You didn’t look mad.

Though you definitely, most probably should.

You didn’t even notice he was there until the end of the song when he hit the wall with his back. Idiot must’ve thought you wouldn’t hear him.

But you weren’t mad. Not at all. Not from the way he was looking at you. Not when he was staring at you in a way no one ever had in your whole life. Not when you could see how his lips were parted and how his chest was visibly rising and how cute his face was all embarrassed and shit.

You could only smile.

Standing from the piano and grabbing your bag, you walked over to him. Jason gulped down and backed up against the wall with you standing right in front of him.

And after five weeks of knowing him,

Jason Todd finally looked like he was scared shitless of you.

But you didn’t want him to be scared of you. Not anymore. It just doesn’t seem like something you wanted anymore.

“You heard all that, huh?”

Jason was an absolute mess. He cleared his throat three times and hesitantly nodded, keeping his head to the ground.

“I-I’m uh,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

You shook your head. “Don’t be.”

He didn’t look like he had another answer. Jason scratched the back of his head. “Uhm-“

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

You walked first, but looked back to see if he followed. Jason rushed to your side, making sure his blush wasn’t so evident even though it clearly was. You were better at hiding your own embarrassment, so you nudged his shoulder.

Jason laughed out loud and looked at you the same way he looked at the stars. You looked back at him the same way.

“You gonna take me home?”

He managed to form a sentence. “I thought you wanted to stay longer.”

You shrugged. “I guess I can take it.”

When you stepped out the gate, Jason walked you over to his bike and handed you his second helmet. Playfully, you hit the side of his and chuckled when you sat behind him, clutching onto his waist. You felt him tense, but he eventually relaxed and you leaned in to him.

You leaned your head on his back this time. You never did that before. Your clutch was tighter, your eyes closed. If it were anyone, it could pass for simply wanting to be more secure. But that day you just wanted to hold someone you actually didn’t mind being with before you’d get home and all this would end in an abrupt stop.

After a long while, you still couldn’t smell smoke emissions from cars or even hear the horns or bells or shouts from all the city folk near your apartment. Looking up then around you with the sun still shining brightly even at this time of day, you were in the countryside. Away from the city.

“WHERE ARE WE GOING?”

“YOU’LL SEE.”

You could smell cow dung, and the earthy scent of grass you should be more used to than you actually are. The road ahead of you was wide and long, and the air was so much lighter than it was at home. You closed your eyes, this time feeling the wind against your skin.

Jason was smiling through his helmet. Further down the road, you held onto him. “I THOUGHT YOU HAD SOMEWHERE TO GO TONIGHT.”

“I TEXTED BRUCE. I’M NOT GOING WITH HIM. JUST HOLD ON.”

You smiled and looked on when he made a turn into a forest with tall trees getting taller as you rode further down. There were no people around you. Not even houses. You leaned into his shoulder and rested your chin on top.

Jason started to slow down when you reached deeper into the trees, finally stopping his bike by the curb. The air was cold, and you wrapped your sweater tighter around your body after you’ve removed your helmet. “Where are we?”

“Come on.”

Jason walked towards the trees, where there was a little cement pathway now covered in weeds and grass growing out of its cracks. You had trouble making your way through, especially when your boots had a bit of a heel in them, then you walked to Jason’s side as it became clearer what you were there for.

An old, abandoned house. Something out of the dozens of horror movies you’ve saved in your laptop.

“Dude…”

“You like?”

It was small, but its picket fence and flaking white wooden walls just screamed fifties to you, with a triangular roof, two windows on the second level, a half-circle glass wall on the right side of the first floor, and a door so rickety and old, colored in an earthly brown that had mixed in with the debris and rot. Vines were all over its porch, and there was even a rocking chair sitting right outside by the entryway, also covered in vines. Outside of the house was an old pickup truck that had rusted beyond use, sinking into the ground like it was pulled by the earth.

“How’d you know I always wanted to go urban exploring?”

“I just figured.” Jason smiled. “Come on. We can go inside.”

“Are you sure?” you eagerly started for the door. “It won't break?”

“I’ve been here once. The stairs are broken so we can't go to the second floor. Just be careful.”

Pulling the unlocked door open, and Jason right behind you, you flashed him a smile before stepping inside.

It was seriously from the horror movies you’ve watched over and over. The first thing that greeted you was a nice little foyer, with a table in the middle and a vase that used to house flowers for sure. Then behind it was the broken staircase Jason mentioned. It was made entirely out of wood, and it had fallen in so bad that it was basically a wall by now. So much of the wood was on the ground, and there were lots of papers, books, clothes, and several others cluttering all around the floor. You had to walk all over them.

There were two entry ways at the sides of the foyer. One leading to the living room, and one to the dining room and kitchen. Everything further down had been blocked out by wooden planks and even more clutter. The living room was beautiful with the glass walls that formed a half circle and a petite grand piano standing in the middle. Its cover was up, and its keys had completely gone. There was still a bit of light coming in to the windows, which shone on the room so nicely, it was perfect.

The couches were completely ruined, and you wouldn’t dare sit on it. At the center of the room, though, which caught your eye the most, was a beautiful, broken chandelier that had fallen to the ground, which was why there was so much broken glass around the floor.

At the other side, the dining room was a bit more modest. A table seating six was still intact, but the chairs were either toppled over to the ground or broken in half. Even more clutter was on the table. Nearby was the kitchen, with an island in the middle, an old-fashioned fridge you probably wouldn’t want to go near to, and other kitchen supplies scattered around.

You both took out your phones and took pictures of the place. It was too good to witness.

“Jason…”

“I know,” he raised his arms up, putting his phone back into his pocket. “Amazing.”

You covered your mouth, then walked on over to the piano. You ran your hands over it, ignoring the mountains of dust that formed over your fingers. “I dare you to play it.”

“There’s barely any keys left.”

You watched him laugh, then you both walked around the chandelier. “Getting a bit of the Phantom of the Opera vibes in here.”

“Don’t touch it.”

“I wasn’t going to.” You eyed it carefully, then you looked up at the empty ceiling. It looked almost like it was going to fall in. Hopefully it wouldn’t.

“The family that used to live here, they left around fifty years ago. A mom, dad, and two twin girls. They both had tuberculosis and died in this very house. The parents just left it after they died. Never took anything along with them.”

“That’s terrifying. You think they’ve got a listing on this place?”

Jason chuckled. “The twins used to be theater stars. That’s why they’ve got a piano. To practice. And they built the whole place around it so the sounds would echo nicely.”

You finally got it. Shaking your head with a knowing smile, you turned to Jason. He had his hands stuck to his hoodie pockets, his head craned down, his hair falling to his eyes, and his smile all over the bottom half of his face.

“Is that why you took me here?”

“You have…” he gulped, never looking away from your eyes. “The most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard in my life…”

You had to look away. For your own sake. You were turning red so much, it was embarrassing. “Stop.”

“I’m serious. You never told me you sang.”

“It’s not exactly something I hid. I’ve sung in school a couple of times. Like in middle school graduation.”

“So I’m basically the only one in school who hasn’t heard you sing?” He placed his hand on his chest. Then pretended to scoff.

“Why don’t you sing. Right here.”

“Todd. No.”

“Come on. We have the place for it.”

You looked up at the ceiling, which was high for a house so small. It probably went all the way up to the roof. “No way.”

Jason kept nudging you, but you wouldn’t give in. You couldn’t help your smile though. You and Jason walked over to the kitchen and just looked at all the things the family left behind. Even the toaster was untouched, and you’ve never seen an oven so old fashioned before, it still had that pastel green color on the parts that hadn’t been taken over by rust.

It was starting to get dark. But you never wanted to leave. “Thank you.”

You said it without looking directly at him, but he got it. Going back outside before everything would completely dim out, Jason walked over to the pickup truck and jumped on its back.

You didn’t have the agility to just jump on top of it without possibly pulling a muscle, so you just watched Jason sit on the edge of it and swung his legs in the air. Standing beside him and leaning your back against the truck, you both watched the house as the sun started to set behind it. You could see the beams scatter just at the center of the roof where it angled down. The sky had grown from a brightly lit yellow to a dark orange.

-----

You and Jason were a recipe for trouble.

Was it because you were too similar? Harbored the same anger? The same hatred for a number of people you didn’t even know? Was it because you both stirred trouble when it wasn’t asked for?

It was a recipe for trouble because, according to the young adult romance novels and movies, Jason was supposed to be with a nice, sweet, innocent girl who’d bring out the good in him and was kind to everyone, have just enough of that spice in her that would draw attention but still be a sweetheart, and she’d be made of happiness and rainbows and would be what brightens up Jason’s darkness.

You were not that girl. You were the opposite. You had that same darkness as he did. You had so much anger, and instilled so much fear onto anyone you didn’t like. Maybe you were even darker. And if it were up to those same novels and movies, you were supposed to end up with basically the same type of person, someone who was bright and yellow and happy. Not Jay.

But with you both being so similar, so full of angst and dread and hate, in a world were opposites were supposed to belong together,

why does he bring so much light and hope?

How does someone just as unhappy as you are come along and make you laugh like the world was about to end?

How does someone just as full of pent up rage as you are come along, and make it all go away for a sweet, short moment?

How was it all possible? How could two people, two very similar people, fit into a puzzle that called for them to fill it what you didn’t have?

How could someone supposed to fuel the fire already inside you end up being the sun?

Jason never thought of that either. In fact, he thought he might end up with someone in his line of work. Another vigilante. Not a mean girl from school who terrorizes students with a pair of fucking scissors.

But, somehow, it all just made everything he was turn into what he was supposed to be. You could say the same.

With you in your little room and Jason in his significantly larger one in the manor, you both sank to the ground, backs against the wall, and you pulled out your phones.

You had left a message first.

Y/N: ‘Urban exploring should be more of a thing.’

Jason smiled.

Jason: ‘Nah. People would crowd those places and vandalize them.’

Y/N: ‘True. I’d want them all to myself anyway.’

Jason: ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

You felt your heart jump. God, this had to stop.

Y/N: ‘I did. Thank you.’

Jason: ‘Should I get used to you being nice to me now?’

Y/N: ‘Probably not.’

He laughed and shuffled his knees.

Y/N: ‘Send me the pictures you took.’

Scrolling through his albums, he selected everything he took that day and sent it all to you. Leaning on his back, looking up at the ceiling as he waiting, Jason imagined the look on your face when you first saw the house. Your eyes never shone so brightly.

You looked through the pictures and found several, about eight of them, centered on nothing else but you smiling at the ceiling, at the piano, at the chandelier, at the tables.

Y/N: ‘Dude. Why this angle of me?’

Confused, Jason looked through the pictures.

And he cursed out loud, over and over, burying his head in his hands when he saw he’d accidentally sent eight pictures he’d secretly taken of you. Fuck it all. This is how he dies. This is the death of Jason Todd.

You were smiling out of your face, and instead of saying anything mean or the thousands of jokes that instantly came up to the front of your mind, you did the same and sent him pictures you took.

And Jason’s heart rose up from where it sank to the floor when he saw you’d taken just as many pictures of him, doing the same things as you did and some with him holding his phone up. One was just his face.

He was a fucking grinning mess by then.

Jason: ‘Don’t I look good.’

Yeah, you cooed. You certainly do. But you didn’t say that to him. You just went along with him and he changed the subject.

Jason: ‘Huge favor.’

Y/N: ‘Shoot.’

Jason: ‘Send me a voice message of you singing.’

Y/N: ‘Absolutely not.’

Jason: ‘Please.’

Y/N: ‘No.’

Jason: ‘I’ll do your library work for three days.’

Y/N: ‘not even if you beg, Todd.’

Jason: ‘I keep my promises, just so you know.’

Y/N: ‘Still no.’

Jason: ‘Sing in the library tomorrow then.’

Y/N: ‘Ms. P will throw me out the fucking window.’

Jason: ‘Yeah, she probably will.’

Y/N: ‘Do my shelving work for three weeks. Then I’ll send you a five second audio message of me humming.’

Jason: ‘Make it a minute of a song of MY choice. Then I’ll do it for a week.’

Y/N: ‘not a chance.’

Jason: ‘what do I have to do then.’

Nothing. You gripped your phone to your chest. I’d sing for you if it makes you smile any day.

Y/N: ’Two weeks. I get to ride on the cart while you shelf my books.’

Jason: ‘Deal.’

You threw your head back, then you made a two second audio message of you screaming “NICE TRY, TODD.”

Jason: ‘Mother fucker.’

Y/N: ‘HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.’

4 am. You slept at 4 am that night. And only because your eyes couldn’t take it and Jason was drooling on his bed after doing exercises to stay up and talk to you.

He had it bad.

Really bad.

And, not surprisingly, so did you.

----

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

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#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader fluff #jason todd fluff #red hood #robin x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fanfic #dc comics #dc fanfiction #batarella #batarella fluff #batarella angst #i don't hate you series #i don't hate you #jason todd x reader series #jason todd reader insert #batarella series

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dwaynepride · 6 years ago

Text

The Fool’s Form

Summary: “i like seeing you smile.” &Gibbs / Gibbs notices a pattern when it comes to you, and it forces him to realize his own feelings.

Words: 3,177

Warnings: None

Tags: @fairytale07 @jrenn10 @f4nboi @purplestarsr5 @ladyzombiielove @littlemiss3ma @specialagentlokitty @minikate--24-05 @consultingdoctorwholock @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @ms-allenbrown @ikbenplant @dylpickles1267

Notes: I went into this oneshot with no real planning so im sorry if it seems incoherent, at times.

The slight ring in his ears wouldn’t go away. Sticking around like an annoying gnat without any signs of disappearing. Gibbs figured it would be gone by tomorrow; this wasn’t his first experience with ringing ears. But when it was accompanied by a scratchy throat and itchy lungs and soot getting in his eyes sometimes, Gibbs wish ringing ears was his only problem.

His body ached. His nose was starting to hate the smell of smoke, but the fire in the building wasn’t completely out yet, and Gibbs couldn’t leave. Not until someone came to pick him up.

It was that or a hospital ride. Gibbs would rather be in the burning building.

He lets his eyes close for just a few moments, breathing in the fresh air the oxygen tank provided. The only rest he would get for the rest of the day, because once a member of his team comes to pick him up, it’ll be back to work. Trying to catch the guy who managed to escape and set the building ablaze with Gibbs still inside.

The sound of his name perked his ears up, his eyes opening in the direction of your voice. And his eyes were still a little scratchy from the dust. Gibbs pulls his oxygen mask away and rubs an eye as you near, saying his name once again. “Are you okay?” You ask him, and now that he can see a little clearer, he watches you look him over.

Gibbs nods once, clearing his throat so his voice wasn’t too messed up. That would only further worry you, and he didn’t want to do that. You already worried enough. “Any sign of the petty officer from the BOLO?”

Despite his efforts, his voice was scratchy and sounded like hell. You physically winced at the sound but shook your head anyway. “Not yet. Tony said he’d call as soon as something came up.” You tell him, wearing a small, worried frown. “I think you should go home.”

Gibbs shakes his head while setting the oxygen aside, deeming himself well enough to leave. That was the deal with the paramedic, anyway. “Gotta get back to work.” He states, forcing himself not to groan out loud as he stands. His muscles scream at the effort, telling him to sit back down. Get some rest. Maybe sleep for a couple days.

He barely hears you say his name again. More scolding, this time. And when Gibbs to fully on his feet, that’s when he notices your hand clutching his arm. No, he was standing up by himself. He didn’t need your help... “Gibbs, I really think-”

“Take me to the office.”

His voice is sharp; an order, if you’ve ever heard one. The harder tone of voice makes you blink at him. A bit of hurt flashing in your eyes that Gibbs regrets a little, but it gets you to nod and help him to the car. Somehow, he’s able to pull himself into the passenger seat without grunting. His body still aches, but he’ll get used to it.

You shut the door, glance sideways to Gibbs, and start up the engine. The burning building disappears in the rear view mirror. Gibbs grunts in effort as he tries to get comfortable in his seat. And you still can’t quite believe that he wants to go back to work.

He was stuck in that building, surrounded by fire and smoke.

He could have died.

That thought suddenly makes it difficult to breathe. If Gibbs wasn’t your intimidating Marine boss, you’d yell at him. Scold him for being so stupid. Not going to the hospital was one thing, but going back to work was another level of reckless.

Your eyes flicker away from the road to eye your boss. His head rested against the seat, hands in his lap, eyes blinking shut. Almost as if he was going to take a nap on the way to the office, and it gave you an idea. A dumb idea, but it seemed like a good one at the time.

Taking a right would lead back to the Naval Yard. You took a left instead.

The next time Gibbs opened his eyes, you were shaking him awake. Softly saying his name. When did he fall asleep? And why? He could normally stay up for days before passing out so quickly.

He grunts a little at your blurry form before opening the door. He just needed some coffee and he’d be right as rain. Maybe take about half a bottle of Advil for the ache in his muscles, but work comes first.

But once Gibbs closes the car door behind him and actually blinks the sleep from his eyes, he realizes he isn’t in the parking lot of the NCIS building. He’s in his driveway. At home.

Exhaustion slows his brain down a little, but once you come around to the other side of the car, Gibbs whips his head around. Frowning as much as he can with a face numbed with tiredness. “What the hell is this? Did you suddenly lose your hearing when I gave you an order?”

He must not have seemed as intimidating as he usually is. Because you just huff out a light sigh at his aggressive bark. “Gibbs, you can barely stand up straight. You’re exhausted and all beat up and my car is going to smell like smoke for at least a week.” Your head motions toward his house, putting on a small smile. “Please, just take a nap and a shower. I’m not asking for a week’s vacation.”

It might as well be, to Gibbs. He’d need to be shot before staying home when he doesn’t need to.

And he was about to say just that. Threaten unemployment and act like an angry bear until you caved. But something stopped him. Held him back. Maybe it was that look in your eye; it was an infuriatingly familiar one. Wide and sad and full of concern. Puppy-dog eyes to the max, and Gibbs was almost always swayed by such a look.

This was one of those times.

Though, the exertion of simply standing was a big contributing factor. Either way, he sighs hard. Head lolling down and shaking before he looks back up. “I want a report later. And if I don’t get one-”

“You’ll slap our heads clean off.” A smile instantly appeared on your face, having won the argument. You reach out, patting Gibbs on his shoulder and gesturing toward the house. “Now go. Get some sleep. I’ll bring you some dinner later on.”

Gibbs started walking, biting back the temptation to say something snarky. He usually hated being treated as if he was fragile. And he usually proved that he wasn’t.

But after he showered away the soot and smoke sticking to his skin and spread out over the couch with a heavy exhale, maybe it wasn’t so bad this time. Because he was tired. The couch felt like a cloud. And you were right; Gibbs needed the rest.

Needed it so much so, that he was still out like a light when you showed up several hours later. There was no point in knocking on the door; it was open and Gibbs kept it that way. The setting sun provided a bit of warm light to the old house as you made your way through. Gibbs was probably in the basement, and you were hoping he got at least a couple hours of sleep before getting up and moving around.

And you were never so glad to be wrong.

His low snores could be heard even as soon as you came through the door. And they only got louder when you approached the living room, take-out box in hand. The sight of your boss fast asleep on the couch, his head propped up against the armrest, was vastly preferred over watching him limp all around his basement and pretending everything was okay.

You kept your footsteps silent, barely breathing as you came closer and set the take-out on the coffee table. A burger and fries; you weren’t going to push your luck and try to get him to eat something healthy.

For a moment, you watch him. Just to make sure he’s really sleeping and not pretending to appease you. But there was a certain look of peacefulness on Gibbs’ face that you couldn’t ever remember seeing when he was awake. Calm and at rest. You couldn’t quite stifle the smile that appeared.

Your eyes leave Gibbs and flicker over his living room before finally spotting what you’d been searching for. Still taking slow steps, you make toward the reclining chair and pull off the blanket throw over the top of it.

If Gibbs is going to sleep into the night, he might get cold, right?

Carefully, slowly, you drape the blanket over his feet. His legs. The fabric hits his hips before Gibbs inhales and shifts. And you freeze until he stops, letting out the lowest groans and falling back into deep sleep.

He must really be exhausted.

You continue the deed until Gibbs is sufficiently covered. It’s a little jarring, how different he seems right now. Tucked in and fast asleep. If you had to pick a word to describe the moment, adorable could be one of them.

But you don’t stay for too long. Gibbs is still resting and you delivered his dinner. There was still work to be done, and he did want a report whenever he woke up.

So you walk out of his house just as silently as you came in.

Gibbs can’t remember a time he was so well-rested.

Not using caffeine as his only source of energy. Not stringing himself along for three or four days with little sleep and telling himself that he’s fine. Gibbs felt great, all things considered.

Sure, his body still ached. Lingering affects of smoke inhalation had the Marine coughing since he woke up. And anger still boiled in his gut, steeling his determination to put this case to rest.

But, annoyingly, it was difficult for Gibbs to focus on the case. Not because of any injuries sustained from yesterday - his mind was just somewhere else. Keeping his attention away from where it needed to be.

Gibbs’ eyes flickered away from his computer screen (he hadn't read a single word on it for a while) and landed on your desk. Empty, because you and DiNozzo were following up on the local police and their search for the suspect.

And Gibbs had a working theory as to why his focus was so frazzled today. It wasn’t the fire that had shaken him; he’s been through worse. No, it started as soon as he woke up this morning, wrapped in a blanket that Gibbs was sure he didn’t fall asleep with. An old box of food that had gone bad hours ago, but he knew it was from you. You did promise to bring him dinner...

“Boss?”

Gibbs straightens up at McGee’s voice, eyes falling down to his desk before rising up to the junior agent. “What, McGee?” He asks, tone curt and harsh because he was caught in his own thoughts.

McGee seems a little awkward at the tone, but he continues on with his report. “Uh, Abby and I determined that the cause of the fire was electrical. Probably rigged and set off whenever you entered the building.” He explains. And after Gibbs simply nods, McGee gives a small tilt of his head. “Are you feeling okay, boss? If you need to go home, we can handle things-”

“No, I don’t need to go home.” Gibbs cuts him off with a bark-like tone, standing up from his chair to bring himself to full height. But try as he might, Gibbs didn’t feel very intimidating. Probably because it took him a lot longer to stand because of the ache in his legs. And when he straightened up, his lungs got that itchy, smoky sensation. Gibbs bit his tongue to keep from coughing.

McGee’s eyes lower, anyway. But any awkward silence or unwanted apology is chased away by DiNozzo’s voice; loud and booming as he entered the bullpen.

“Boss! It’s good to see you walking around!”

Gibbs looks to his senior agent, regards him silently, doesn’t spend too much time watching him before he’s looking at you. Gibbs blames his lame lungs for how tight his chest feels at that moment. The effort it takes for him in inhale as you approach, frowning a little but not really mad. Gibbs knew that expression well. “Yeah, even though I still think you should be resting at home.”

Out of the corner of his eye, McGee is signaling to you to shut up and not go down that road. But Gibbs doesn’t scowl or grumble.

Instead, his eyes watch yours for a moment. Maybe two before they drop to what you’re holding. You look down, huff, and hand over one of the coffee to-go cups for him. And when Gibbs takes it, you give him smile. “No need to say thanks. You can do that by eating this.”

At that, you lift up a bag that he hadn’t noticed before. Gibbs frowns, his head tilting as he reads the logo printed in the front, ‘Joe’s Bagels.’ That makes him huff, head shaking. “Not hungry.” He states.

“You need to eat, Gibbs. You’re still healing.” You shake the bag, holding it closer. And then you put on those puppy-dog eyes again. The same ones from last night, when you convinced him to take the day off and rest. Last night, his exhaustion could be blamed for how easily Gibbs conceded. This morning, he had not real excuse. No reason to agree.

But he takes the bagels anyway. Sets them on his desk and he sits, leaving you to grin while McGee and Tony exchanged looks.

Why should they be surprised? Even Gibbs gets hungry sometimes.

The light of his lamp didn’t seem to help Gibbs at all in reading reports. He’d get only about two lines in before his vision goes blurry. Having to rub his eyes to refocus them.

It must be pretty late. The officeplace has been quiet for a little while now. DiNozzo skirting off for some new date. McGee and Abby having some kind of plans that Gibbs didn’t quite understand. Something about computers, no doubt. So it must be pretty late, that’s why he can barely keep his eyes open...

10:30.

Gibbs frowns at the time. No way in hell is it that early. But after checking the time on his computer, it’s apparent that Gibbs is thoroughly tired and drained at 10:30 PM. He must be getting old.

Suddenly, he hears your voice; a sharp contrast from the silence of the room. When Gibbs straightens up to watch you come from the elevator, chatting on the phone, the pull in his muscles reminds him that maybe yesterday’s incident is what has him so drained.

But Gibbs looks down when you turn into the bullpen, not wanting it to seem like he was watching you. But he listens carefully; you have plans. Tonight. With who? Hopefully not a guy-

So what if it is? It’s no business of his.

Gibbs is scowling at his paperwork when you say his name. Several times, in fact. It isn’t until you lean over his monitor do you finally catch his attention. The surprised look on your boss’ face elicits a big smile. “You’re still here? You should head home, Gibbs.”

He blinks, brow quirking. “You’re still here.” He points out, and can’t help himself but to lean closer. Like you were dragging him in and Gibbs couldn’t fight the tide.

“Yeah, because I had some things to wrap up. And I wasn’t nearly burnt to a crisp yesterday.”

A good point. One that Gibbs marginally agreed with, even though he looked away with a shake of his head. “I’m fine.” He says. He won’t let you get to him, this time. Twice was one thing. Three times was a pattern.

A pattern he didn’t want to acknowledge.

You don’t reply, at first, but Gibbs can see you slinking around his desk. Can feel your eyes on him - firm, like a predator watching their prey. Gibbs hated feeling like prey. “You’re exhausted, I can tell. You get even quieter and grumpier than usual.”

Can you really read him so easily?

“Please, Gibbs, go home.”

His eyes fall shut, exhaling harshly that turned into a light cough. Home did sound good. His body screamed for the comfort of his couch. And your voice, light and pleading, admittedly tipped the scales of his decision.

Gibbs stands up, flicking his lamp off and pressing the button of his monitor. His workspace goes dark, matching those of his team.

When he turns to you, expecting a victorious grin, you’re just smiling softly. Gibbs didn’t expect it. And he didn’t expect you to keep talking. “I’m just worried about you, okay? I was scared yesterday, when we heard you were in the building.” Your eyes dart away, weight shifting. “I mean, we were all scared.”

Any annoyance Gibbs might’ve felt at being coerced into going home melted away. He turns toward you, lightly shrugging a single shoulder. “I’m okay.” He replies, his voice low like someone might hear. He even manages a light smirk to strengthen his words.

It works to bring a small smirk to your face, as well. Your eyes return to his, growing soft with a new smile that Gibbs was pleased to see. “Good. Because I like seeing you smile. It’d be a pity if we never saw it again.” He didn’t know until now just how worried you were about him. It makes all the bossing around make sense, in hindsight. And it makes Gibbs feel a bit like an ass for fighting you the whole way.

But then something unexpected happens. Gibbs must be more spacey than he’s ever been in his life, because he doesn’t even register you pulling him in for a hug until your arms are around his shoulders, squeezing tight. He feels your cheek press against his shoulder. Feels you inhale against his chest; deep, like you were assuring yourself that he really was okay.

Gibbs is still for a moment. Maybe two before his arms close around your torso. He squeezes just a little, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. True, he wasn’t expecting the hug, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t committing every single second of it to memory.

You pull away sooner than he wants. Smiling that same smile and giving his arm a pat, like that was a hug between two good friends. Gibbs supposes that’s what it was. To you, anyway.

“I better see you well-rested tomorrow, boss.”

You walk away from his desk, toward the elevator and probably a date with a man that wasn’t him.

And Gibbs wishes he could please you by getting a full night’s sleep and being well-rested tomorrow. But as he grabs his coat and weapon, Gibbs figures he’ll spend half the night in his basement, hoping the bourbon will erase feelings he didn’t know he had.

#ncis x reader #ncis reader insert #ncis imagine #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #gibbs x reader

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alitheamateur · 6 years ago

Text

The Grind- Chapter 26

“You sure about this place, babe? How come you don’t just wanna grab some coffee from The Grind and go back to crash on the couch at home?” I asked as Colton pulled open my passenger side door to walk hand-in-hand with me down the sidewalk.

Luckily, I cautioned Tia’s persistent advice at dinner last night, and limited myself to only three glasses of wine, and one measly shot of Patron. So, Colton’s 7 a.m. feisty bite to the exposed skin of my cheek under the sheet as my wake-up call, wasn’t ruined with a blistering hangover. He was adamant about taking me to some diner he’d heard about from one of the guys at the bike shop to try their German potato pancakes that he was just so certain I’d love, and I was a sucker for a languid, sweatpants breakfast date every now and then.

“It’ll be fine, Livvy. Let’s enjoy some good grub, then I promise we’ll squeeze in a nap before we head to the gym later. Deal?”

He kissed the fingers that were interlocked with his own, then smiled mischievously as we slipped inside, escaping the rustling winds of the morning. We didn’t stop at the ‘wait to be seated sign’, instead Colt scanned the room, peeping over the full booths and tables around the room.

“C’mon, I see an empty table over here, babe.” he pointed, tugging me not so gently to the left of the hostess stand.

“Colton, we have to wai-,” I started to argue with his bullish, bizarre behavior, but before I could state my objections, reality slapped me across the face.

Seated with their backs to us, both sipping on a black cup of the house blend, were two Indiana natives, very far from home. Mom turned around to investigate the bustling approach over her shoulder, and stood to push herself from the seat with an unsure smile.

“Wh-..how did you guys get here? What’s going on?” I babbled wrapping a halfhearted, confused embrace around her neck, searching for an explanation from someone in the party of 3.

“It was all sweet, Colton, Liv honey. He arranged the whole thing. He insisted we come.” mom confessed, admiring Colton with a look of appreciation.

“I wanted ‘em here to see you fight, baby. And to see the house and everythin’. They got here yesterday afternoon, and I got them all set up at Westin, and ate dinner with the both of ‘em last night to get familiar.”

The pieces started to connect then. Why Tia was so snarky with keeping me away from the bottle, why Colton was so incessant about dragging me out of the house before 9 a.m. this morning, and why there was a button-down dress shirt discarded into the hamper when I did laundry after a late return home last night. I internally tipped a hat to his successful undercover moonlighting, though.

“Kid wouldn’t take a dime from us, either. Paid for the tickets, a ride from the airport, and our room, too. Seems we owe this one, sweetheart.” I heard dad say as I took one of the empty seats across the table from he and mom.

Their visit may not have been on my terms, or my timing, but I did feel complete having them here. Although there was a suitcase of nerves that landed on that plane along with their arrival to Pittsburgh, it just felt, right. The four of us, together, all in one place had me swelling with a sense of gladness and completion, all courtesy of the mysterious man in blue seated to my right.

“I can’t believe you did all this, Ritter. I expect a play-by-play when we get home, ya’ big box of lies.” I leaned to kiss him sincerely.

“I’m pretty impressed with myself to tell the truth.”

The meal consisted of bacon all around, mom whining about the cold temperature, those potato cakes Colton was correct about me losing my mind over, and a general calm, steady flow of conversation. I was impressed at how normal, and interested Tony and Liz seemed to be the entire time. Dad never brought up a single utterance of basketball, and mom pounded me with questions about my match, and what it would be like. I felt a connection so genuine that had been minuscule for so many years, and I knew Colton played a tremendous role in the healing psychological wounds.

“You guys should come by the house and spend the afternoon with us. All my stuff is moved in, and it doesn’t look like a construction site anymore. Mom, we could swing by the food market to get what you need for gran’s jambalaya for dinner, too!”

My inner, overly-eager, rambunctious childlike manner took me over, and I instantly began bulleting out an itinerary of events. I’d have to take mom to meet Andrew, and she would die over the Americana at The Grind. And dad, maybe Colton and I could take him to the trolley museum and a PNC park tour in the next couple of days.

“Livvy, we’ve got to try and get to the gym for a few hours today. It’s down to crunch time, babe,” Colt reminded me with apologetic tone. “But, we can check them out their room, and settle ‘em in at the house first, okay?”

Of course, the gym. This week wouldn’t be one of family dinners and touristy adventures with the fight countdown fuse burning low. And now, I had even more work to do down at Temple Fitness with my parents in attendance. The weight of potentially letting Colton, Tia, and the rest of my corner down was sickening enough, now add the weight of Tony and Elizabeth and you’ve got one wound tight Liv. Perfectionism is a weakness not all can relate to, and of that they should be eternally thankful. I failed my Warrior teammates and the rest of my small-town not so many years ago, and that disappointment in itself nearly disconnected me entirely. I may have grown and evolved in many ways since relocating to the Pittsburgh, but the will to please my loved ones was a quality I would undoubtedly live with until my final breath.

“You do whatever needs to be done today, sweetheart. I know these next few days are crucial, so don’t mind us. We’ll take whatever time you can give us.” my mom pats my hand from across the table, and shot and thoughtful smirk.

“We’re just happy to be here, Livvy. You’ve got a good one there.” My dad’s opinion of the man I loved was never considered to be a worry I had, but in that moment, I couldn’t have been more prideful in how truly wonderful Colton had been to them, and to me for organizing this little surprise.

After dragging my parents’ belongings up the front steps of our home, and leaving them the keys to my car in case they got the pangs to explore around a bit, Colton and myself dutifully reported for in for a session down to the gym. The last couple days I had been studying up on a submission move I really wanted to try out. The Omoplata essentially was a move to apply unbearable stress on the arm of your opponent, inevitably resulting in a tap out. Tia, nor Colton had introduced me to the technique, but it was one I had stumbled upon doing some research on my own one afternoon during some down time at the Pilot office. Having never actually seen it done in reality, I only had internet tutorials, and other martial arts circuit fights that had been posted online to educate myself.

Upon trucking into the somewhat crowded parking lot, and settling my duffle into a locker down the hall from the ring room, Tia had called to say something had soured in her stomach, and she wouldn’t be making it in to train with us today unless I wanted to mop up her throw-up. Naturally, I insisted she stay in and recover, leaving me in the hands of Colt.

“Grab the rope, let’s warm up for 10 minutes after you stretch, babe.” my handsome trainer instructed as he downed the settlings of a pre-workout drink at the bottom of his cup.

“Did you remember to tell dad about the construction on Liberty bridge in case they decide to venture out of the house?” My voice vibrated as I bounced with the whip-like jump rope.

“Yep, as we were walkin’ out the front door, Liv. Don’t worry, ‘ight? They’ll be fine. I gotta say though, I wasn’t expectin’ ya’ to be so thrilled about ‘em being here.”

I was fairly flabbergasted myself in that matter, but I had no explanation for my nervous excitement. I guess, maybe it was the common cliché of not knowing how much you in fact needed something, until you had it.

“Thank you, handsome. I really am glad you did all that. Although, I’m a little concerned with all the unsuspected sneaking around you were able to get away with.” I smirked, dropping the braided rope to adjust the tightness of my messy bun.

“It nearly got the best ‘a me lying to you like that, but it was for good reason, at least. Except, them being at the house every night for the next few days may turn out to be a little problem. Seein’ as their daughter can’t keep her greedy little hands off me & all…” he teased unnlacing his trainers to pull of his socks before we moved into the ring. He was knelt on one knee just a foot or two behind where I stood, then inched over in that crouched position to friskily bite the pert cheek of my backside, and grabbed a handful of the other.

I’d never get tired of those stout, mitt-like hands of his touching my body, and I let my head drop backward a bit to sigh into his touch. If by some unfortunate event, things between us happen to fall to pieces again, no man would ever live up to the bar set by the infamous Colton Ritter.

“I can manage a little self-control, you animal. Let’s make a bet on who caves in first, shall we?” I said, stepping over the middle rope of the mat.

“You better be careful playin’ with fire girl. You may get burned.”

We had bounced around, grappling and rolling for nearly an hour already, with just a couple rushed breaks for water, and I still hadn’t built up the courage to try the move I had been so eager to crack at. I welcomed the respect that Colton had to never half-ass me when we did train one-on-one, however always extremely careful to make sure I was never harmed in any way. His insights, and words of wisdom related to the cage were something I considered to be a matchless gift, and I loved him eternally for offering it up.

Just as I was about to weigh the Omoplata to be the impossible, especially considering my mock opponent at the current time, Colton let down a wall, and broke his own most crucial ‘golden rule’ of fighting. He attempted to tangle me, but instead, mistakenly gave me his back, awarding me the perfect moment to pounce. I pinched his shoulder between the bones of my knees, then swung one leg hurriedly over his head. Colton’s arm was trapped between the center of my limbs, essentially hooked around my left thigh as I crossed my ankles. I flattened his chest and face to the mat with speed I didn’t know I had, and swung my legs to the side, easing into a squat with his helpless arm still locked in. The stretching pressure of his muscle grew the higher I raised, and defeated, Colton yelped out with a tap.

Instantly releasing, I tumbled to my back, and laid to rest with exasperating breaths. Executing the technique on an individual with such a powerful strength, was equally as exhausting on the attacker as the victim, and I could feel my blood tingling, and rushing through my veins like the Colorado rapids.

“I sure as hell don’t fuckin’ remember teachin’ you that, 2-1,” my captor said still face planted onto the canvas, almost cackling. “But you pulled it off with damn near perfection. I’m impressed, baby!”

“That one is just a little something I picked up on my own. Coach…” I replied, mounting his back to massage his shirtless shoulders.

Colton flipped, doing a 180 to now laying on his back, with me still atop him with a sweaty, rosy face.

“Oh, so she thinks she can pin me now, huh? Don’t get too comfortable up there, Elliott. You know I don’t do bottom.”

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935 @littleluna98 @mollybegger-blog

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tomhardyfanfic #tom hardy fanfiction #tomhardyfanfiction #tommy conlon #elizabeth olsen #thegrind

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coyoteimagines · 6 years ago

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Stressed Out - Star Trek

A Dr Phlox x reader imagine from Star Trek Enterprise please? :) The reader taking over as acting captain for a time and this puts them under constant stress, not enough sleep and makes the readers and Phloxs new relationship more difficult. Perhaps a scene where the reader apologises to Phlox for being stubborn? Sone fluff please? :)

A tap on your shoulder startled you out of sleep. You blinked a few times before your eyes were able to focus on the shape in front of you. The middle section of your dear doctor. Your eyes travelled sleepily up his form until they made contact with his eyes, currently furrowed with concern.

“Doctor? Why are you on the bridge?” You asked, sitting up straight from your slumped position in the captains chair.

“I am on the bridge because YOU are not in the mess hall.” He said, hands clasped behind his back.

“The mess hall?” You asked. But your eyes went wide a split second later with realization. “Oh my god, what time is it?”

“Almost 2100.” Phlox said softly. The other crewmates around the bridge exchanged a few looks with sad smiles. You groaned, dropped your face into your hands, and massaged your temples for a few moments before looking up at the doctor with a sad smile of your own.

“Im sorry.” You said. You looked at you for another moment before his furrowed brows relaxed and he smiled.

“Good. I know how you can make it up. Come with me.” He unclasped his hands and took a step back from the chair.

“Phlox I can’t I’m-“

“You can. You got off duty almost three hours ago. I’m sure the next in line,” He gestured to a crewmember at the helm “Can handle things for the night.”

The crew number nodded. You made to argue but Phlox held up a hand.

“I will win this argument.” He stated, still smiling. You sighed and shook your head.

“Fine.” You said, putting your hands up in surrender. He offered you a hand and helped you stand. You followed him to the lift calling out to the helmsman.

“If anything happens, call me immediately ok?”

“Aye!” The crewmember responded as the door closed. You moved a hand to massage the back of your neck as the lift moved.

“Im sorry Phlox. I was looking forward to the movie night.”

“No need to apologize Captain.” The doctor playfully bumped his shoulder against yours.

“Acting captain.” You corrected.

“I couldn’t tell. You’ve been at the post for two weeks now and already you are working yourself to death just like any good Starfleet captain. Archer would be proud.”

“Oh come on. Im not that bad am I?” You groaned and turned to him, dropping your hand.

“Shall I give you my medical opinion or my opinion as your boyfriend?”

You smiled. That word was still new to you, but you liked it. And you felt immensely guilty for missing two dates in a row.

“You are not eating. You are not sleeping. You are definitely not recreating.” He reached down to take your hands in his. “And in the most loving and adoring way I can put this, you don’t look good.”

“Thanks” you said with a halfhearted chuckle. You knew it was true. The bags under your red rimmed eyes alone made you look like a zombie from the old Earth stories. And you knew your uniform was a little…rumpled… And your hair…

“I um…” God you WERE tired. “I didn’t expect it to be this hard. I’ve only had to take the chair once or twice before and even then only for a few hours at most. I wasn’t as prepared as I thought I was.”

“If it helps,” Phlox shrugged, “You are doing a wonderful job.”

“Doesn’t feel that way.” You took a deep sigh, feeling two weeks of exhaustion settle deeper into your bones with every moment you remained awake. You leaned forward and let your forehead rest on his shoulder.

“Well it’s true. Though I would imagine your ability to maintain order may be diminished if you lack the ability to even stand up on your own. Which is why as both your doctor and uh…lover, I am prescribing sleep.”

With that he finally waved a hand to open the lift door which had long since arrived on the crew quarters floor. With a hand at the small of your back, he guided you out and down the hallway. When you arrived at your room you opened your door and stepped in. You yawned almost immediately when you saw your bed, still neatly made from almost two days ago.

“When was the last time you slept, other than the nap I caught you in tonight?” He asked, gently pushing you towards the bed.

“Uh… I caught a few hours in the shuttle bay waiting for that ambassador…yesterday I think?”

“You slept in a shuttle?” He spun you around and sat you on the bed. He started to take off your boots but you shooed him away, insisting you could do it yourself.

“I slept near a shuttle.” You confessed. “I sat down on some crates and the next thing I knew I was waking up behind them.”

“That sounds healthy.” He mumbled. You smiled.

“Sarcasm doctor? You are spending too much time with me.”

At this he sat on the bed beside you, neatly clasping his hands in his lap.

“On the contrary my dear. I fear I am not spending enough time with you. Even in your current position, you must promise me to make better time for food, recreation, and sleep.”

You nodded and looked down at the floor.

“Im sorry Phlox. I know Ive made the start of this,” you motioned between the two of you. “a bit bumpy.”

He reached and took your hand. He turned it over in his hand and began tracing the lines in your palm with a finger.

“Denobulans are renowned for their patience my darling. And even if they were not, you are worth being patient for. Just promise me you’ll take better care of yourself? The one place I do NOT want to see more of you is on the medical table. Which is where you will end up if you keep working like this.”

“I promise Ill try.”

“Good” He said, dropping your hand to push a feather light kiss against your temple before he stood.

“Then I shall let you get started on your self-care and then in the morning, we can share a morning meal if that is to your satisfaction.”

You nodded.

“Very well.” He smiled and bowed. “Good night.”

“Good night Phlox. Thank you.” You said as he walked out. You yawned once more and stretched back out onto the bed. Even though the past two weeks had been some of the most stressful of your career, you couldn’t help but smile at the ceiling wondering how you got so lucky to win over such a good man.

#star trek #star trek enterprise #star trek imagine #reader insert #phlox #phlox x reader #dr phlox #doctor phlox #fluff #star trek fluff #star trek fic

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iceamericanoventi · 6 years ago

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Love Will Find a Way, Well, Eventually : 2. In Between

“Where are you going?”

If it was inside Cartoon Network’s universe, everyone must be able to see the smoke fuming from both his nostrils and ears. Jinki looks beyond distressed when he’s lifting his ass from the chair. No one on the table was his partner, but Minho decided to throw some ridiculous question then played dumb as if he didn’t just ask one.

“Should I have number one here?”

He started getting irked, but that doesn’t stay long until Kibum casually munched his breadstick while spluttering his witty comments as usual, “Surely Taemin would be delightful.”

Taemin who didn’t do anything almost chocked himself with a piece of tomato and kicked Kibum’s shin under the table, eventually.

“Promise me you won’t run away?”

Dumbfounded, Jinki emptied his pocket and almost smashed the table with his belonging.

“Are you my husband? Here’s my wallet. And my phone!” and with that, he left the other three men finishing their meal.

“Is he always in this temper?”

Lee Taemin gave him another look, pleading him not to embarrass them further, but Kibum just shrugged and muttered ‘I’m just asking’ under his nose.

“He was mad with me since this afternoon. Plus, he has lots of stuffs to think about these days. But don’t worry, he never really got mad unless you disturb his nap.”

“What is he? A bear?”

“Yaa! Kim Kibum!”

Minho couldn’t help but laugh to the scene happened before his eyes. Taemin is famous for being friendly and very expressive only if you know him, even if he’s talkative. To penetrate his bubble is very hard at first, but this man sitting across him, he seems like he’s already inside that bubble since the very beginning. He really is someone closed to him. Kibum looks mesmerizing, even in his grumbling nature. The oversize sweater wrapped his lithe build perfectly.

A phone call arrived to Kibum's phone, he picked it up frantically and excused himself to take it outside.

"What do you think?"

“Eh?” Minho doesn’t even realized he got his eyes entailed Kibum’s silhouette until it disappear by the entrance door.

“You seemed in trance. I know Kibum is beautiful but I didn’t expect you’ll be this amazed with my friend,” Taemin’s sipping his wine, a smirk is very apparent in his devious face.

“I guess it’s safe to say that you’re not a liar.”

Minho reopened his mouth few minutes after he’s assured that Kibum’s not going back any soon. Taemin is not ecstatic, sometimes he wondered if Minho has a decent sense of humor of a friend.

“For your information, I’m not and never been. I’m the most honest person you’ve ever encountered in your life.”

“Everyone in this room knows that’s not true.”

“Whatever. I might know my ways deceiving people, but I never lie to my friend.”

“Did you just admit that you’re lying here and there, Lee Taemin?”

Taemin rolls his eyes, again, probably for the nth times already this evening. Without Jinki around, he can be more relaxed on throwing his tantrum on Minho.

“Choi Minho, people lies at some certain points of their life. Get over it.”

He gulped down the rest of his wine, Taemin then called a waiter near them to bring him another one.

“Kibum seems nice. He sounds smart.”

“Sounds? Did you even listen to yourself? No writer is not smart, Choi. Moreover, someone who’s been writing the past decade!”

“I only know him for one night. Who knows he’s just acting?”

“Dude, not everyone is an asshole like you.”

“An asshole wouldn’t agree to bring his best friend along in front of a psychopath like you.”

Taemin snorted and Minho’s smirk reappeared on his face.

“That is literally what a psycho would do, selling their friend for their own benefits.”

Minho wiped his mouth before washed down the dinner with cold water, “And that’s exactly what Jinki accused me for. You two shared a brain or what?”

“Any sane people would say the same, Honey,” this time Taemin’s smirk that made the other scoffed, “By the way, what’s the deal with Jinki? He looks like he’s been sitting on thorny cushion the whole dinner!”

Minho knows Taemin would ask such question eventually. However, he couldn’t say that Jinki hates the whole dinner date plan, it’s impossible. Besides that, knowing him for years, Jinki really is an angel in disguise, well, at least when he’s in the mood.

“People have different, what should I say, defense mechanism? And that’s how he is. What kind of person who talked nonstop during their first meeting, anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t know, me?”

“That’s why you’re a freak.”

“A freak who introduced you to your potentially next boyfriend.”

“Ha. Point taken,” Minho raised his hand to ask for the dessert, “Jinki is just not the type of person who will talk a lot and open up in a second. But I guarantee you, he’s a good person. Sometimes a little bit care too much for other at certain time so probably being brazen is his forte.”

“That reminds me of someone.”

Taemin and Kibum spent their high school days together. Separated for some years due to works and educations, their relationship’s all well maintained. They understand each other, including Kibum’s nature to always put others before him at any given situation.

“Appearance wise, though, what do you think about Jinki?”

“Choi Minho, I’m not a teenager anymore. Judging people around by its cover is no longer my habit.”

“But a designer like you must love a beautiful package, don’t they?”

“Well, to be honest, his lips and eyes itself could get me floored in one glance.”

“I knew it.”

“You’re a famous photographer for a reason.”

***

Cold wind slapped Kibum’s cheeks lightly when he pushed the door and parched to the corner near the valet post.

“Okay, now you can speak. Sorry, I don’t know why the reception wasn’t good enough inside.”

“Then I’ll be frankly here. There’s a possibility for making the special edition for the short story collection. But then, we’re still short of two stories at the moment.”

“Wait, wait, but we already have nine! I finished writing nine! Why should I add another two?”

“The publisher agreed to the preposition for at least twelve stories. You should be grateful I could pitch one less story!”

Kibum looks like he’s about to punch anyone passed within radius one meter around him, but nothing in reach besides a huge pot of short palm tree and concrete wall. And he needs his hand to finish his books still.

“But, Amber. Page wise, those are more than enough to make two new books. Are they out of their mind?”

There’s a loud groan banging on his ear drum came from the other line, “Dude, I almost flipped the table when I was at the meeting you have no idea. The board has new man and that guy is a pain in the ass.”

“Would it change the circumstance if I talked to them by myself?”

“Since when do they have time to talk to the writer directly? We’re head to head with bunch of snobs here, did you forget?”

“I should had not agree to let them touched my writings. Now we’re about to face dead end.”

It was a dream to work along this publisher. It was Kibum’s dream since he started writing when he took gap year after graduated high school. And as if it’s a fate, it was the only publisher agreed with his graphic novel concept five years he climbed his career professionally.

“Listen, Kibum. When I met you years ago, I promised I’ll work my ass hard to help you publishing your books. Not because I knew you, it’s because you’re good. You’re amazing writer and I’m not giving up easily. And neither you. Not when anybody can tell that you’re a gem.”

“I haven’t written any book since last year, Amber. I’m in a slump. Writer’s block is not even describing my bad luck at the moment.”

“Honey, you haven’t written any because you’re currently waiting two books released. And if I could do my magic, another one in, let’s say, six months.”

“If I could make up some words into another story within two weeks. If you could convince them to give me mercy.”

“Did you just know me yesterday?”

Kibum’s tired giving sane response, “What do you mean?”

“I’m waiting their secretary to call me in ten minutes. We’re going to discuss some new deals and I’ll make sure one of them is going to be your new nine stories book.”

“I actually have no idea if I don’t have you as my editor slash manager slash friend slash personal ranting partner slash whatever you want to be.”

“Rockstar. That would be cool.”

“You’re going to be a kick ass one to be honest.”

“I bet. Anyway, expect another call from me in the next couple hours. I’m sorry, but tonight we might need video call to resolve some issues.”

“I hate you for confiscating my time but you’re the best.”

“As always, ain’t I?”

The phone call ends already, but he still forlornly looking at his phone’s screen. With that, Kibum remembers all the works he needs to catch up for tonight. With that, he can put aside all the unnecessary anxiety and tension of tonight’s stupid match making session.

He took a glance of his watch and could only sighed, he better hurried inside to his dessert. The faster he finished, the sooner he can hit home and face the real deal. His deadlines.

Two steps away from the entrance however, he caught a familiar face sitting by themselves, staring to the busy street in front of the restaurant.

“Jinki?” he carefully calling the man, “Lee Jinki, right?”

The later tilted his head to the right and gave Kibum a simple smile, didn’t realize it dropped Kibum’s heart by the bottom of his gut.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Everyone would agree this winter is even harsher than last year’s. Jinki just lifted his left hand to make sure Kibum saw a cigarette slipped between his fingers, “Can I sit here?”

Jinki chuckles, “Aren’t you cold?”

Listening to the same question he threw a minute ago, he just rolled his eyes and took a place next to the other man.

“I’m waiting a phone call.”

“Important?”

“Kinda.”

Jinki blew some smoke out, “Hmm, I guess so. You sounded pretty upset over there.”

“Did I scream that loud?!”

“In my opinion? No. but a girl flinched and buzzed off rather hastily, so, you tell me.”

When he saw Kibum’s gaping like a fish in frantic expression, Jinki has no choices beside laughed again, surprising Kibum who’s quite convinced with his aloof personalities.

“I didn’t know you have so many jokes in store.”

“You learn something new every day.”

“Your face doesn’t show.”

“What about my face?”

“It’s handsome but with that attitude inside, seems like you’re the type who woke up at the wrong side of the bed every single morning and could kill someone annoys you at any time.”

“Well, to be fair, I did wake up in the wrong side of my bed this morning. But it’s because a certain dog occupied half of my blanket so I couldn’t disturb her.”

“You have a dog?!”

Kibum’s face lit up thousand times as if he just won some lottery. Strangely, it warms Jinki’s heart. No, scratch that, it would warm any heart, Jinki tried to generalize the situation.

“I don’t, unfortunately. She belongs to my friend. I’m taking care of her while he’s travelling abroad. Her father will pick her up this weekend.”

“Ah, too bad. We could have play date with my boys.”

“I’ll make sure to give you a call when I decided to adopt one later.”

“Do you think my invitation hasn’t expired yet by that time?”

“A man can only dream, can’t he?”

Kibum’s laughter is muffled by his own palm covering his mouth.

“Let’s go inside, you must be shivering.”

“But your cigarette?”

Kibum’s half stuttered caught red handed, Jinki already pressed the half-done cigarette on the sand bowl on his left, “I can always have another one at home. Besides, I doubt you would go inside without me dragging you along.”

Kibum thanked the universe that the place is not well lit, so he could hide the blush creeping his cheeks. Unfortunately, Jinki has a very good eye sight.

***

“Is my baby being a good girl when daddy’s away?”

Jinki scoffed when the man just entered his living room just literally threw his suitcase aside and scooped the little dachshund running toward his embrace. He gathered the suitcase and poor leather bag on the floor and placed it neatly near the saffron color couch.

The man later dropped himself next to Jinki who’s lounged himself there, checking his phone halfheartedly.

“Minho texted me the other day.”

“Why did he keep texting you?”

The man with dark grey hair didn’t catch the frown hanging on Jinki’s face and buried his face to the dog’s belly, making him groaned again. He lightly pushed the dog further and toppled his head on the other man’s laps.

The dog owner realized something’s happened when he’s not around. He put the dog on the ground and tapped her butt to send her back to her small bed near the pantry.

“Minho has my number and I have his name in my contact list. He can text me whenever he wants. Still jealous?”

Jinki closed his eyes when he started playing with his hair, “He’s still one of the reasons we broke up.”

“Baby, the only reason we broke up is because neither of us didn’t want to succumb into marriage. Minho was just a handsome face happened on the wrong time.”

“I have no idea why I still befriend him when it’s clear he wanted to shove his face to yours, all the damn time.”

“And I have no idea that you’re this type who holds the grudge for a long time. We were already out of relationship back then.”

“Still, a friend wouldn’t openly chase after their friend’s ex.”

“A friend wouldn’t, but a best friend would.”

“Whatever.”

He almost lost his control and slapped Jinki’s head of him, “Oh, come on. What’s bothering you this time?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. It’s written all over your face the second I saw you behind the door. And I’m pretty sure it’s not because my daughter misbehaved while I’m on my annual pediatric conference.”

Jinki sighed, nothing he could really hide it from the other man. Since they were in their almost five years relationship, since they became best friends around three years prior.

“Minho invited me for a dinner night.”

“Wow, fancy,” actually Minho already texted him about the dinner a bit, how he wanted to introduce Jinki to some acquaintance he has, “He gave up on me so he went for the only option?”

“For the record, your mom agreed that I’m way much sexier than you.”

“Three years ago, before your cheek bones buried under those mount of fluffy fat.”

“Said a man who came to me and straight ahead told me I looked cute after leaving a piece of paper with their number on my table.”

“I will put aside the fact that I love how romantic you’re for still remembering our first meeting but let’s back to the right path here because I don’t like the upset you. It’s fucking annoying.”

“He introduced me to someone, Jonghyun.”

He let out inaudible gasp and thanked the universe Jinki’s still closing his eyes. Otherwise, he would stop at once and avoided any discussion of the main reason which distressed his ex-boyfriend. Knowing the scenario before hands didn’t prevent him with the sheer pain graze him when it came from Jinki’s mouth himself.

“So? Isn’t that great? Do you think it’s about time?”

“I was about to argue that two years are still not enough to get over you but I guess you’re not in the same page with me so I’d say that I’m not interested into some relationship whatsoever at this point.”

Jonghyun wanted to cry listening to such words. His heart clenched, he inhaled – a very long one – before he continued caressing Jinki’s forehead.

“I am flattered, but I know you’re just teasing me.”

“Ha, you know me so well.”

“I’m not gonna fall on the same hole, Lee.”

“You won’t. You’re too smart to repeat the torture on the loop.”

“It wasn’t a torture, Jinki. I love you as much as you do. Or maybe just slightly more.”

“Not a chance. I love you more.”

“Stop it or I will kiss you.”

“I dare you.”

“I told you I’m not gonna fall on the same hole.”

“Smart, very smart,” Jinki opened his eyes only to find Jonghyun sticking his tongue out, “Okay, so at first, I don’t like the idea already. You know I hate any type of match making method. Even the online one. But being there, I realized that my current focus doesn’t involved other party besides me, my business, and—“

“And your grandfather?”

Jinki looks annoyed, “Remind me to add ‘always-cutting-people-sentence’ on the list of reasons why I broke up with you when I’m writing my journal tonight.”

“It’s true. I think he was also the cock blocker during our relationship back then.”

“Dude, we’re talking about my gramps. And to put him on the same category with Minho is beyond weird.”

“We already broke up when Minho made his move, for Pete’s sake!”

“Okay, okay! No need to raise your voice, you’re so scary when you’re angry.”

“Then don’t make me! Now, now, can you please be a normal human being so we can talk like adults for once?”

Jinki pulled himself from the couch to the pantry, snatching a pack of cigarette on the tea table before slipped one on the corner of his mouth.

“Can you not smoking inside?”

He snorted and padded to the direction of his balcony. It’s in the middle of winter but he doesn’t care a bit to the wind ready to slaughter his bones. If tomorrow the cold prevented him to leave the bed, then let it be. For once, he just wants to free his mind from the business.

“You need to remember that I can only treat patient on certain age,” Jonghyun followed few minutes after with a blanket he spread as wide as possible to cover both of them without feeling suffocated for standing too close.

“The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends people be under pediatric care up to the age of 21, though.”

“Did you just quote Wikipedia? And we’re not in fucking States! Above and beyond, shame on your wrinkles!”

“Rude.”

“You’re the rude one to your lungs!”

“Then tell me how to ease my mind without nicotine! Tell me how to forget all those troubled night and just sleep! Do you think it’s easy taking care of worrisome business and messy family without distraction?! Stop talking non sense if you do know how to save my days!”

Any word seems taboo once Jinki exploded. Both man just staring into the dark evening below Jinki’s unit. People paraded as quickly as possible on the street to fight the harsh weather. It’s not that late, but only few cars passed by. The dim light of the street lamp’s soothing the tense atmosphere in a way.

Jonghyun leaned closer to Jinki’s arm and rested his head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with that.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“You know that you can always talk to me right?”

“I’m tired bothering you. You already have a lot in your hands.”

“Besides my patients and Roo, there’s nothing really confiscated my time.”

Having someone like Jonghyun who would stand next to him, scold him then hug him right after, no matter how awful he behaved and treated the other man, Jinki every so often thinking what kind of good deeds he did in his previous life.

Jinki cocked his head, inhaling the trace of scent of Jonghyun’s favorite shampoo. Initially, he was about to kiss the top of his head, like he used to do when the other man leaned on him for whatever reason it was. He remember, though, the earlier period after their broke up – after settling their feelings for few months of course – the shorter man told him not to do that anymore because it was the doctor’s Achilles heel. So instead, he rubs his cheek over the thick hair, silently telling Jonghyun he’s sorry.

Some nights – especially right after that dinner date – he had thought, maybe one of the reason he reprimands Minho’s idea is just because he still has tiny hope that Jonghyun and him might had another chance in the future.

“From time to time, I was thinking that the more day passed, we’re closer to the image of friends with benefit.”

“Friends with benefit? Tsk,” Jonghyun slapped his forearm, “The only benefit I got from you is you’re the only perfect nanny for Roo when I’m away.”

“Those cups of coffee every single time you stopped by my shop?”

“Pfft. How stingy. I’m leaving.”

“Heartless.”

Jonghyun didn’t say anything more and returned inside to gather his things and called Roo. He desperately needs some hot shower. Somewhere inside him, he was expecting Jinki offering him to stay the night knowing how caring the man and the fact Jinki knows he bolted to the other’s apartment right away after landed.

When Jinki handed him the leash, that hope vanished in second.

“What if later I really considered this person? Or any other person collided with me on the future?”

Jonghyun smiled, he looks tired, but very sincere, “Then good.”

“Because I’m not gonna bother you anymore?”

“No. Because you’ll have someone to share the happiness with.”

***

cross-posted in my AFF

#shinee fiction #shinee scenario #LWFAWWE

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sun-kissed-star · 6 years ago

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If you don’t mind could you please write some spralmer angst? (If you don’t want to it’s fine)Also I just wanted to say that I love your writing and you’re one of my favorite newsies blogs.

thank you, babe! coming right up.

i’ve done something a little like this before but do i look like i care?? i Do Not.

trigger warning: car accident, hospital, injury

“Are you gonna tell us where we’re going yet?” Albert said, swinging his feet up on the dash. Spot rolled his eyes fondly, brushing him off and putting his eyes back on the road.

“It’s a surprise, idiot,” he said.

“What if I told you I don’t like surprises?”

“Yes, you do,” Race said from the backseat (Albert had called shotgun, and Race had managed to be mad at him for all of three and a half minutes). “You were bouncing off the walls that one time we threw you a surprise party.”

“Yeah, but that involved cake.”

As Albert and Race bickered back and forth, Spot just smiled discreetly, adjusting his rearview mirror so he could see them both. “I’m dating actual children.”

“Says the one that came back from the store with four boxes of Poptarts yesterday,” Albert said, leaning over to grab his hand on the steering wheel and give it a squeeze. Spot shook him off, but not before squeezing his hand back and kissing Albert’s knuckles.

“Hey, do you or do you not wanna know where we’re going?”

“I mean, if you insist,” Race said, tapping his chin, “I guess we can shut up.”

“Finally.” Spot looked over his shoulder at him. “I love you, though.”

Spot turned back to the road.

He didn’t even see the car before it was too late.

A screech of tires as he tried to veer off to the side. He heard a shout from the backseat, a frantic “Spot!?” and the distinct crunch of metal and glass before everything went dark and he was sinking away into nothing.

Blinding white. A calm, steady beeping. Murmured voices from the hall.

When Spot woke up, the sounds that surrounded him were far different from the ear-ringing noises from the car crash. Everything he remembered from what had happened came slamming back into him full force, like another car was ramming straight into his chest.

He still didn’t like what he heard, though. It was too quiet. There were no jokes and no one was laughing or rolling their eyes and cracking open a soda can. Where was -

Albert. Race. Where were Albert and Race? They had been there.

Oh, God, they were there.

Spot was fully ready to start panicking. He was alone, his head was pounding, and for all he knew, his boyfriends were unconscious and clinging to life. He struggled to sit up, but a voice broke through the thoughts he was drowning in.

“Hey, hey, you’ve got IVs in your arms, dumbass. You’re okay.”

So much for being alone.

Spot snapped his head up and looked around wildly. Sitting up in the bed beside his own was Albert. His hair reminded Spot vaguely of a bird’s nest and there were bandages wrapped tightly around his head, but he was awake and alive, and that was all Spot could focus on.

“Wh-where am - why are you - where’s Ra- what’s g-going on -”

Albert got out of bed. The doctors probably wouldn’t appreciate that, but since when did he or Race ever listen to the rules? He hopped up on Spot’s bed. “Hey, babe, you’re okay. It’s Al, you’re in the hospital from some asshole that crashed into us, and I’m not hurt.”

Spot took Albert’s face in his hands, tilting his chin. His face was free of bruises or marks, and Spot felt like he could breathe easier just before the thoughts were piling up again. He smoothed out the bandages on Albert’s forehead. “Wh-what are these from?”

“Oh.” Albert touched his head gingerly and shrugged. “I was bleeding from the head a little when we came in. They’re keeping an eye on it and keeping me in here for signs of a concussion.”

Spot looked around as if expecting to see a third bed. “Wh-where’s Race?”

“The full force of the hit came from the front. Not a scrape on him. He’s in the lobby.” Dozens of the anxious questions in Spot’s head settled. “Hopefully asleep. He was in here for hours before Katherine pulled him out to take a nap or something.”

“Ka-Katherine is here?” Spot said, momentarily cursing the tremble that was still in his voice, but he felt dazed and out of it and his voice wasn’t hiding that too well.

“A lot of our friends are. You’d think they remembered by now that hospitals are supposed to be, y’know, quiet.” He laughed weakly and shook his head. His eyes were scanning Spot over, and Spot reached for his hands to ground them both. “I think they’re just surprised Race isn’t the one in a hospital bed for once.”

“I am too.” Spot shifted to sit up as best he could. “Are you sure you’re okay?��

“I’m fine,” Albert said, eyes lowering, his small smile anything but real. “Not hurt. Race is fine. You’re fine. I’m good.”

“Not what I meant, idiot. I’m pretty sure I know you well enough to know whether that dumb smirk is real or not.”

“I-I mean, I’m fine, really. It’s just, um, anxiety and all that. ‘S dumb.”

“I would be concerned if you weren’t anxious from getting hit by a car, Al.”

“Right,” Albert said. “Uh, it’s not important. Hospitals stress me out and I was alone in here for a while after Katherine dragged Race out and I just, um, was thinking a lot and -”

Spot cut him off. He grabbed Albert’s face again and pulled him down for a kiss. Albert melted into it, holding Spot’s shoulders. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but Spot could have stayed like that forever. They eventually pulled away, but Spot kept his forehead resting against Albert’s.

“Hey,” he said, “I love you.”

Albert smiled. It was still small, but it was real. That’s all that mattered. “I love you too, Spot. Even if you’re a dumbass driver.”

“Oh, shut up,” Spot growled, and he yanked him back down for another kiss. As soon as Race escaped Davey and Katherine’s clutches and came in to join them later, everything would be just perfect.

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samuelfields · 6 years ago

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Reflecting On Being A Stay At Home Dad For Two Years: Eight Takeaways

I still remember the day my son was born like it was yesterday. After only about an hour of labor he joined us in this world at 11:58 pm. It was the greatest moment of both our lives.

From that time forward, we pledged to care for him as best we could. In a big way, all the years of saving and investing were to prepare for this moment that we could both be stay at home parents.

As first-time parents, we didn’t know what to expect. So we figured having both of us care for our boy would be the optimal way to go.

Here’s my personal reflection as a stay at home dad for the past two years. I’ve sent this post to his e-mail account for him to read when he’s a little bit older.

Reflecting On Being A Stay At Home Dad For Two Years

1) Losing income is hard, but losing time is harder. Due to being a stay at home dad for two years, I’ve lost out on between $400,000 – $1,000,000 in income. With 18-20 years of experience in finance and online media, getting a $200,000 – $250,000 a year job + restricted stock units is very possible in the SF Bay Area. If I were to go back to banking, my base salary would be $250,000 a year + bonuses equal to 0% – 200% of base salary.

Although losing out on so much income is hard given we now have more expenses taking care of our son, I wouldn’t miss out on the first two years of my son’s life for any amount of money.

You could give me a billion dollars, and if I had to be away from home for 14 hours a day to make that money, I would decline. I’ve spent time with billionaires before, and they are just like you and me, except they fly private everywhere.

Over the past two years, I have witnessed his every milestone: his first smile, his first rollover, his first crawl, his first steps, his first words, and so many more. Each milestone witnessed felt like a blessing. I hope due to all the time both of us have spent with him, we will have an even stronger bond as he grows up.

I’ve gotten to know a couple of nannies over the two years and they have told me how they won’t tell the parents about new milestones so that the parents can think they are first time witnesses.

I knew I could always make more money but I could never create more time with our son.

Related: Career Or Family? You Only Have To “Sacrifice” At Most 5 Years

2) Hardest job in the world without a doubt. For all the stay at home parents out there, I salute you! And for all the single parents out there, you have my deepest admiration.

Working 14 hours a day in banking where there’s constant pressure to produce is a walk in the park in comparison to full-time fatherhood.

With full-time fatherhood, you are on 24/7 due to risk of injury or death by the child. The first year of life is the most fragile, which is why you’re always on high alert for choking, suffocation, tumbles, running into a corner, and so forth.

I kept reading stories about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS), which were all so incredibly heartbreaking. For the first year, this paranoia wouldn’t let me sleep uninterrupted for more than 3-4 hours. Back is best and get rid of all the blankets and pillows in the crib please.

Once your child starts to verbalize his or her desires, it’s all about repetition. My son loves garage doors and will say the words “garage door,” “double-wide garage door,” “quadruple wide brown garage door” etc over and over again. He’ll then open and close garage door toys a hundred times in a row. I’ve got to repeat the words and open and close the doors with him. Otherwise, he knows I’m not paying attention.

I’ve also heard whines, screams, and crying 3 – 6X a day for 730+ days in a row. In the beginning, this was quite a shock to the system because we never had any of this since my wife and I started shacking up in 2001. Our boy is a top 1% chatterbox and super determined individual. If he can’t do something or doesn’t get what he wants, he definitely makes himself heard or felt!

Over time, things are getting better as he’s able to verbally communicate his needs and desires. He’s no longer as frustrated because he can tell us he’s tired, thirsty, hungry, sad, and so forth.

And here’s the kicker. My wife did around 70% of the care-taking largely due to nursing needs, and I still felt being a stay at home dad was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. One must develop incredible patience and endurance to survive.

3) Have children and the money will come. Although both my wife and I gave up healthy salaries to raise our boy full-time, we were somehow able to make more money each year after he was born.

When you have a child, your mind and body go into overdrive to try and provide as much care and support as possible. As a result, you gain even more energy to find ways to financially support your family.

In my case, instead of waking up between 5:30 am – 6:15 am to start the day and work on Financial Samurai, I began waking between 3:30 am – 4:30 am to try and get more done before our son would wake up between 7 am – 8 am.

I did not quit because I knew I could not. My family depended on me.

If he has had a particularly poor sleeping night, I would try and take over for a couple hours to allow for my wife to sleep in or decompress. I’d also try to nap as many times as possible during his mid-day nap so that I too could recharge for the afternoon and evening sessions.

After our boy went to bed, usually between 7:30pm-9pm, it was often Netflix, catching up on work stuff I’d postponed during the day, and preparing myself for the next day.

Once he turned 24 months old, our son now has the ability to go from 6:30am – 7:30pm non-stop with no naps several days a week.

Just the other day I took him on a 1 hour 20 minute walk in the morning around our hilly neighborhood. I would have bet anything he’d take a two hour nap after lunch. But he just kept right on going until 8pm!

Overall, we are talking about 4:00am – 10pm days on average with a 45 minute nap in the middle of the day.

As the saying goes, “the days are long and the years are short.”

4) Easy to gain weight and get sick. When all you’re doing is caring for your baby at home, it’s extremely easy to gain weight. I went from around 168 lbs to 173 lbs, even though I was consciously trying not to overeat.

But after about the 18th month, I started losing weight and am back down to about 166 – 169 lbs. The main reason why is because I’ve started to take my boy on almost daily walks. I also went back to playing tennis three days a week.

For men who are looking to have a baby and stay at home, I suggest trying to lose 5 – 10 lbs before your baby is born. That way, you’ll have a 5 – 10 lbs buffer for the inevitability.

Another downer is the increased frequency of getting sick after the first year. Our boy got his first cold at 12 months old. Then he started getting sick about once a quarter as we interacted more with the public.

His sickness spread to us, and we found ourselves frequently battling colds as well. Luckily, neither my wife or have have been sick at the same time.

Ideal healthy weight chart for men

5) Nannies aren’t paying close enough attention. I’m really sad to report this but after spending over 150 sessions in a public setting (park, museum, playground, etc), the vast majority of nannies (90%+) are on their phones the entire time they are supposed to be watching over your child.

Every time I play chase with my boy, there will inevitably be 2-3 kids who will play along because their nannies are not playing with them. I’ve seen countless falls by 11-16-month-olds just learning to walk because their nannies are not paying attention.

I often wonder whether one of the reasons for slow speech development is because the nanny simple does not spend enough time speaking to their child or describing things to the child as they happen. We parents should be verbally describing everything our children are doing and seeing to help them learn. But with nannies, what I’ve observed is largely silence.

If you are having difficulty deciding whether to return to work or staying home to take care of your child, I recommend you chose to stay home if your can afford to. Nobody will care more about your child than you. It’s not even close.

Many of us are addicted to our mobile phones. The nannies I’ve seen take it to the next level. It’s like they’re getting paid for being on the phone!

If you go the nanny route, I would explicitly tell them to stay off their phones during play time. Whether they do so or not is up to them. But at least you’ve voiced your desires and there’s a greater chance your nanny will follow your instructions.

It is completely sad and a wee bit alarming to have a little one come up to me, a stranger, and ask me to play with them because they are being completely ignored.

6) There was no discrimination. You sometimes hear stories about moms excluding dads from conversations or moms whispering mean words about dads being stay at home parents.

Out of all my outings, I have never once been discriminated against or been made to feel embarrassed or bad for being a stay at home parent. None of my friends have taken jabs at me either.

Maybe it’s because I live in San Francisco, where we’re very accepting of people. Maybe it’s because my wife was also with me during most public settings. Or maybe it’s because I’m a proud dad who is more impervious to the disapproval of others.

Don’t let our insecurities run amuck.

Once I went with a moms group walk around Golden Gate Park and we decided to take a break under a large tree. All the moms started to breastfeed their children, but only one had a shawl. It frankly felt weird to be around the group, so I decided to take a short walk instead.

For all the stay at home dads out there who would rather say you retired early, are a freelancer or entrepreneur, you don’t have to be ashamed that your wife or partner is bringing home the bacon.

Embrace your occupation as a stay at home dad. It is the most important job in the world!

7) Wish I started sooner. I find that men are a little to relaxed about when to have children because we don’t have the same biological deadline as women do. We like to avoid the subject for as long as possible. But this is not fair to women who want to have children. Have a mature discussion early in your relationship.

Physically, I’m still holding up pretty well. But I’m definitely not as limber as I used to be and it takes me longer to recover from a cold or a sports injury. After about age 45, I’m not sure if my body would be able to handle all the necessary bending over and carrying any more.

Having one kid makes me want to have a second. Therefore, it’s good to plan as much as possible. Even if you plan, it might take longer than expected to have a child.

If you know you want to have children, it’s better to have them sooner rather than later. Not only will your body be able to better handle childcare, but your kids might also be able to spend more time with their aging grandparents.

See: When Is The Best Time To Have A Baby

8) You never feel like you’re doing enough. I’m constantly in awe of my wife because of her patience, kindness, and ability to naturally feed our boy when he was a baby.

As a stay at home dad, my son and I have a close connection, but it’s not as close as the connection he has with his mom. As a result, I used to feel a little sad when he cried out for mommy while I was right there playing with him.

What am I, chop liver or something? I’d sometimes think to myself.

Because I’m unable to nurse our boy, I try to make up for my deficiency in other ways: cleaning, driving, grocery shopping, playing, washing dishes, ordering food and so forth. I’d throw myself deep into my work in order to feel the power of being a provider.

Slowly, I’m starting to feel more worthy of being a father. As he gets older I hope all he’ll want to do is play with his old man. It’s just such a weird feeling to never feel like you’re doing enough no matter how hard you try.

Proud To Be A SAHD

After two years of being a stay at home dad, I’m firmly on the side of the rest of the world that provides 6 – 12 months of parental leave after having a baby.

For a woman to return to work within three months seems cruel, especially if a C-section is involved. All a baby wants to do at that age is be with his or her parents.

One doctor said it best, “Nine months to create, nine months to heal.” If male managers and CEOs were at home every day helping their wives recover, they would be more empathetic as well.

Unfortunately, companies aren’t in the business of subsidizing our personal life decisions regarding having children. My hope is that American institutions will soon start to offer some type of token paid parental time off for at least the first child.

At the end of the day, I know my wife and I have tried our very best to raise him so far. Looking back, the two years went by quickly. Looking forward, I’m hoping for many more wonderful experiences.

Are there any stay at home dads out there who would like to share what it was like for you? Stay at home moms feel free to share your thoughts and also how your husband or partner has helped or how we dads can do more.

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