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ohnopoe · 4 years ago

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Personal Hero | Marcus Moreno

Ship: Marcus Moreno x Reader Summary: When work is getting you down, you don’t need Marcus Moreno, the superhero, you need Marcus Moreno, your personal hero. Word Count: 2.6k+ Warnings: Some self deprecating thoughts (not many, but I’d rather you be safe than sorry) & food mentions Author’s Note: This is incredibly late, but for @meshlamando! I’m so sorry it took so damn long, I hope it has at least a little comfort in there for you! One day I'll learn the right compromise between hurt & comfort... I don't think I got there today...

The shrill ringing of your mobile cut through your office, sending thoughts flying in every which way at the sudden sound. Irritation bubbled away steadily as you put the damn thing on silent without so much as a glance at the caller ID.

Reports had been thrown in your direction from the moment you had arrived, a never ending list of time restraints and deadlines that seemed to be constantly encroaching on your mental stability, and, quite simply, you didn’t have the time for anything else that could be added to your to do list.

So, the call was quickly pushed from your mind in favour of, was that an accounting report? How had that become your responsibility?

Any thoughts of having your lunch break were dismissed, a luxury you just didn’t have time for as the pile seemed to grow before your very eyes. A fresh cup of coffee, that was all you had time for, and even that gained judgemental glances from your boss as you rushed back from the small kitchenette. But it was a break, of sorts. A few minutes to remind yourself that there actually was something outside of black ink on white paper and luminescent screens that were determined to give you a migraine.

But, as you made your way back to your chair, your phone began to vibrate in your pocket, demanding your attention once more. A quick glance, you could get away with that, surely.

A soft smile seemed to find its home on your lips in an instant as the name Marcus Moreno popped up with a ridiculous picture you’d taken of him some months earlier. But, as your gaze quickly met the disapproving glare of your boss, you knew you couldn’t answer, even if it technically was still your lunch break.

Placing the phone down with a sigh, and more than a smidgen of guilt, you watched as it rang out, fading into a notification. Two missed calls, both from Marcus.

Well, if you hadn’t felt bad moments ago, you certainly did now.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on your failings when yet another manilla folder found its way into your inbox; the sticky note on top demanding it be finished before start of day tomorrow.

The hum of vibrations drew your attention from the email you had been writing, dragging over the surprisingly empty office to where your mobile danced across the corner of your desk, each vibration bringing it ever closer to the edge. A quick glance around to confirm you really were alone, another to check the time, realising just why you were so alone, and you were reaching for the device eagerly.

It didn’t matter that you still had hours of work ahead of you, or that your coworkers were all too happy to go home on time and leave you to deal with their messes alone. It didn’t matter that your stomach had been grumbling for hours now, or that your eyes felt so dry that the tears that threatened to break through at the thought of your situation would actually be a welcome relief. It only mattered that, for some miraculous reason, he was calling again, and this time you could finally answer, finally hear his voice and get a few minutes of reprieve from the insanity of your day.

“Hey, sorry I missed your call earlier, works been crazy,” the words came out in a mess, one falling into another as your exhaustion made itself known quite clearly.

“As long as you’re ok,” it would have been impossible to miss the concern in Marcus’ tone, even through your receiver and weary state of being. A small smile played at the corners of your lips, his words a gentle reminder of just how lucky you were, at least, when it came to your personal life.

“I’ll be just fine,” you offered with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a yawn.

“You should come home,” Marcus offered with a soft chuckle, his voice warm and enticing, relaxing you far more than it ought to do.

A chuckle of your own escaped at the suggestion, shaking your head to yourself in the emptiness of your office. “Not likely to happen any time soon, I’m afraid. I’ve got at least a few more hours of stuff left to do.”

“As your boss, I’m telling you, come home, it’s after six, you need rest. I’ll order pizza, Missy’s at a friends, we can have a lazy evening on the couch…”

Damn that sounded enticing, but as you spun around in your chair, the sight of your to do list practically mocked you, silently reminding you of the deadlines you had been given.

It didn’t matter that Marcus was now the head of the whole damn Heroics organisation, your department head would never let you get away with leaving things unfinished, and she’d already made it quite clear what she thought of your relationship with the boss.

A heavy sigh, filled with exhaustion and wariness was the only answer you could give. You didn’t want to disappoint him, of course not. This was Marcus Moreno, for goodness sake, the man deserved nothing but the best, but there wasn’t much you could do. This was your job, and, as much as you loved him, as much as you wanted to be all the things he deserved, you simply couldn’t be that all the time.

“I’m sorry,” there was a weight to your words that went beyond simply coming home late.

It seemed, no matter what you did, you were disappointing someone of late. You weren’t working hard enough, you weren’t home enough, you hadn’t brought coffees for the entire department (when had that even become a thing?). No matter where you looked, it felt as though you were competing with something, something you couldn’t see, something you never had a chance of surpassing. People’s expectations.

There was a pause on the line, a silence that only solidified your guilt. Marcus was too nice to call you out on your absence of late, too sweet to remind you that you hadn’t had a date night in weeks now, but his silence reminded you all on its own.

It weighed heavily on you, as if it had been sitting in the shadows, slowly growing in the dark recesses of your mind without your knowledge, growing until it became the insurmountable mass that sat on your shoulders now.

Late nights, no time to relax, no time to recover, it all came together, wearing at you in a silent tundra of exhaustion.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” It was said softly, but there was a determination behind his words, a tone you heard so rarely, but one that you knew nonetheless. It was the same voice he’d use to reprimand a heroic who went too far or didn’t listen, the same tone he used when Missy had been caught sneaking out one night to go explore an abandoned skatepark with friends. There was no debating this, no need for a discussion. This was simply a fact, one Marcus was determined you would accept.

But it wasn’t that easy.

Just because Marcus believed something wholeheartedly, it didn’t make it so for you. He believed in the best of people, always tried to see the positive in things, and was, quite simply, one of the best people you had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

So, when he said something with such conviction, it was hard to disagree, hard to say no to, no matter how you felt.

A half hearted ‘hmm’ was all you could offer in response, neither agreeing nor fighting him on the matter, and resulting in an inaudible sigh from the other side of the line.

The silence that sat between you lingered on, acting like a vast gap that seemed to stretch on and on, only further dragging you into that endless aching. It hurt to be apart, to deny what you both wanted for what had to be done, but it hurt to disappoint him even more.

There was a reluctance in his tone as he spoke up once more, softly, uncertainly. “I should let you get back to it then,” the words came across forlorn, as if the certainty he had felt when dispelling your apology had faded into something sadder, something deeper, and it twinged at your heart.

You nodded in silent response, your tired mind only reminding you he couldn’t see you moments too late. “Yeah, I should try and get back to this,” you agreed, even if it sounded anything but enthusiastic. “I’ll see you when I get home,” you began, glancing over at just how ridiculous the pile still was… god only knew when you might actually get out of there. “Don’t wait up.”

Time was inching onwards, drawn out and slow moving, almost taunting you. You wanted to be getting through your work, wanted to at least feel productive, but no matter how long you pushed your way forwards, it felt like no headway was really being made. An hour had passed since you had spoken to Marcus, but it felt so much longer, especially with only one file being completed since then.

Worst of all, you truly were focused. It wasn’t as if your mind had been distracted, even if it had tried very hard to fill your thoughts with reminders of failures at every turn. You were working, and working hard, your attention only given to the work at hand, and it still didn’t seem to be enough.

You were so focused, in fact, that you didn’t even hear the doors opening, or the sounds of footsteps coming ever closer. You didn’t hear the half amused, half exasperated huff of laughter that came from the man who was making his way towards you, you didn’t even notice when his shadow danced over the paperwork before you, pulling figures away from the light as he stared down at you with an unreadable expression on his features.

No, it wasn’t until a large box landed on your notes, causing you to jump with a yelp, that you even noticed you were no longer alone.

Laughter came easier now, richer, softer, and actually noticed by you as you spun around in shock to take in the sight of one Marcus Moreno, long since changed into his casual attire, standing beside your desk, watching you with that fond smile you’d often catch from across the room.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked as you attempted to calm your racing heart. It wasn’t the question you wanted to ask, no, but somehow it seemed easier, lighter even.

“I just got here,” he spoke with that same gentleness he always seemed to have when it was just you two.

Guilt played at the edges of your thoughts, trying to tempt you forwards into those haunting thoughts and regrets, reminders that he had to come back to work to see you, to spend time with you, when you’d only just moved in with him about a month beforehand. It shouldn’t have been this hard, you shouldn’t have been forced to be so distant, he deserved better.

But as much as the guilt and anguish tried to take over your mind, it had no real chance, not when that dimple was showing, not when you could breathe in his smell. No, Marcus Moreno was like a warden, keeping the negative thoughts at bay, as if they couldn’t bare to even try to cross him, as if they simply didn’t belong in the same room as him.

He was a hero, everyone knew that, hell, he was the leader of the heroics, but it was this, his very own superpower, far more special than his control over metal, that made him a hero to you. He held a power unlike any other, the power to let you breathe.

Even with exhaustion playing at your mind, even with the insurmountable piles of work still ahead of you, he could calm you with just his presence, and you would never cease to be in awe of that.

“Break time?” he raised his brows in question, pointing towards the box which had both given you such a startle, and been entirely ignored since his arrival.

You hadn’t even bothered to really look at it, so used to things being thrown on your desk throughout the day that seeing whatever offending item could have been added to your pile hadn’t even been a consideration. But now, with the embarrassment beginning to ease, and the delicious smells wafting in your direction, you could finally acknowledge the large pizza box that demanded your attention away from your papers.

“Marcus I-”

“No, you’re taking a break,” he shook his head as he interrupted what was no doubt about to be a slew of sad excuses for why you didn’t have time for this. “You’ve been working your butt off all day, it’s dinner time for goodness sake. We’re going to sit down, have some pizza, talk about something that’s not work related, and then, if you really want to finish whatever you have to do, well, we’ll do that together.”

There it was again, that tone that left no room for argument.

You didn’t want to bring this into your personal life, you wanted to shelter him from the crap your work often brought about, but how could you when he was right there, offering to help you through it?

“This is hardly the kind of work the leader of the Heroics should be bothering with,” you tried to laugh it off, gesturing to the reports and receipts that were littering your table with a wonky smile, but even that faded away as those deep eyes stole your attention as they often did.

It wasn’t sympathy or empathy, wasn’t anger nor irritation, in fact, none of the emotions you expected to see swam in that chocolate gaze. No, it was simply acceptance.

Pulling a chair from the next desk over, he plopped down with none of the finesse your colleagues were used to seeing in the news reports. No, this was a side reserved for you and Missy alone. The side that was clumsy and awkward. The side that had brought you flowers he saw on the side of the road when coming to pick you up for a date, not knowing it was actually a weed. The side that had managed to fall off the couch, not once, but twice during movie night early into your relationship.

This wasn’t Marcus Moreno, leader of the heroics. This was Marcus Moreno, your boyfriend, a term you had grown to increasingly love even with the juvenility of it.

This was your personal hero, the man who turned up at your desk when you had to work late to make sure you ate, took a break, and weren’t overworking yourself.

“Babe, I don’t know what you think I do every day, but I’m more than used to dealing with boring reports,” and somehow his words came far easier than yours, pulling the corners of your lips into something akin to an actual smile.

It was far too easy to smile around him, and he took far too much joy in dragging a smile onto your features as often as possible.

“But, that’s an after dinner problem. As is the fact your boss isn’t the one staying back late to deal with her own issues,” he huffed slightly, before shaking his head as if the action would literally shake the thoughts from his mind. “For now, we eat like- Do you think kings would eat pizza?”

And just like that, being stuck at work for the evening didn’t feel quite so bad. Nothing really could, not when you had that ridiculous man staring at you curiously as he shoved far too much pizza into his mouth at once, pondering a question that would make a toddler proud.

No. This wasn’t bad at all.

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno #we can be heroes #my fic #marcus moreno imagine #we can be heroes imagine #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes fic

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btsslowburnfic · 4 years ago

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The Arrangement Ch 17

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi

Chapter Summary: Part one of the photoshoot

Previous Chapter here

The work week proceeded as normal. Well, what had become normal. Delivering coffee and reminding Yoongi to eat, answering emails, trying to figure out which meetings Yoongi actually needed to go to and which ones were a waste of time. Of course you always went to the meetings, and holy shit you couldn’t believe the topics couldn’t have been discussed via email. You were looking forward to this particular day because you got to go visit Hoseok in the style department and Jimin had decided he was tagging along “for funsies.”

Yoongi was supposed to go and get measured and try on clothes for his photoshoot. When you reminded him that morning he laughed at you, “Uh no. Hoseok knows what size I wear. He can figure it out. Go look at the clothes and I might try some of them on tonight.”

You and Jimin met up for lunch and then headed up to the styling department.

“I’m excited. I’ve never been to a photoshoot before.” You said bouncing up and down in the elevator.

“Yeah, they’re pretty boring actually. Like if it’s with some of the hotter models it’s a little fun for the eye candy, but then you feel bad for them because they have to sit for so long making awkward faces. They are constantly getting their make-up and hair touched up. Touch base with craft services to make sure there’s plenty of water. The lights are bright.”

You took out your phone, “Oh thanks. I wouldn’t have even thought about that. Any other tips?”

“It’s Yoongi. It won’t take as long as it does with the other people. He’ll show up, do it, and leave. JK and Tae, especially Tae, want to chat with everyone on set and if they are together it takes foreeeeevvvveeeeeerrrrr.”

“Huh, ok. Thanks.” The two of you arrived at JHOPE Fashion and walked through the rainbow vomit doors.

Hoseok was wearing glasses with yellow lenses today, which made his dramatic facial expressions stand out even more. He immediately rolled his eyes. He pointed to you. “You are not Yoongi.” He pointed to Jimin. “And you are not Yoongi.” He put his hands on his hips. “So why are the two of you here?”

“I’m sure you can guess why.” You responded dryly.

“Ugh. That ungrateful man. I had lovingly hand stitched these pieces. For him. These patches...” Hoseok pressed his fingers together as though he was praying. “Fine. Fine. You. Y/N. Come. You. Jimin. Wait right there.”

Jimin’s eyes went wide. “Me? Why do I have to wait here?”

Hoseok turned from where he had started to walk towards the back. “You will thank me in a minute. A certain someone is coming to get his fitting in a few minutes.” He raised an eyebrow and then turned around, his heels clacking against the red tile floor.

Jimin started to blush profusely and before you could ask, Hobi interrupted, “Come new girl. We have work to do especially if that boss of yours refuses to come here and experience these magnificent beauties for himself.”

You followed him through the large door, which led to lime green hallways and then to a quiet, more muted workspace. The walls were lined with fabric bolsters, the middle tables with ribbon, thread, patches, paint. Paint?

Hoseok sat down. “From what I understand, this album will have an acoustic feel to it versus his previous albums. For that reason I have chosen these natural materials such as cotton, linen, and denim.” He spread out several pieces onto the large table. “I have also opted for a more neutral pallet, as much as it hurts my soul. I have chosen colors found in nature. I have chosen brightly colored accessories such as these silks to stand in contrast with the stiff fabric and more neutral colors he will be wearing. Additionally, I avoided black. We’ll see if he notices.”

You watched as he draped the red and purple silks over the top of the clothes. For whatever reason, you found it mesmerizing watching the fabric juxtapositioned in such a way. “It’s so cool to hear you tell a story just using clothes.” You said, somewhat enchanted.

Hoseok flicked his eyes up to you, “Thank you. That is what I try to do with my collections. Everyone’s outfit tells a story, even if they don’t mean for it to. May I?” He asked, stepping back and gesturing at you.

“Oh man. You know I don’t dresses fancy--”

“Shhhh you don’t tell me.” He looked at your outfit. You had opted for an Aline skirt and blouse with a casual blazer. “You had meetings this morning, that’s obvious by the jacket. You usually dress cuter. Which means you are either sick or not feeling great. You look fine. So I’m guessing...you are on your period. Sorry, this just comes out, I can’t stop it,” he paused for a moment as your jaw dropped open slightly. He stepped closer, inspecting the shoulders of your jacket. “The blazer is at least ten years old but you shouldn’t have had a blazer ten years ago unless it was for your school uniform and that isn’t a school jacket. Which means it probably belonged to an older sister or aunt. You are very responsible and well organized otherwise you wouldn't be Yoongi’s assistant. Therefore you are most likely the oldest or only child so that is your aunt’s jacket. Your blouse is nice. You actually like it, you’ve worn it twice in the week you’ve been working here. You bought it at a thrift store. You don’t spend a lot of money on yourself, but you are very confident. Therefore, it’s not that you don’t think you deserve nice things, it’s just that you can’t afford them so you likely grew up poor and it has continued into your adulthood.”

“Holy shit. You should be a detective.” You said to him.

“The shoes, I gave you last week. They don’t have a story yet, other than a very good -looking man in a suit helped you out because Jimin said you were a nice girl. You wear zero accessories which shows a lack of both funds and sentimentality. Most people have at least one piece of jewelry that means something to them, but if you have one, you don’t wear it.” He smiled at you, his white teeth gleaming. “ Now, how much am I right about?” He crossed his hands in front of his chest.

You clapped your hands as though you were in an audience. “All of it. Although I am still weirded out that you know I’m on my period. Next time I’m going to wear something skin tight to throw you off.” You joked.

“Well,” he started, “At least now that you work here you don’t have to worry as much right?”

Given the shitshow you went through this weekend you weren’t sure about that, but you shrugged, “It definitely pays better. And money doesn’t buy happiness, but it sure helps make some things less hard.” You gestured to the pile of fabric on the table, “So...what do I do? Take these clothes with me for Yoongi to try on or will they be at the photoshoot tomorrow? Do I need to bring them to the photoshoot?”

Hoseok sighed dramatically, “I could dress Yoongi drunk, in my sleep. He can just show up tomorrow and I will dress him then. My staff will make sure the clothes and accessories are at the photoshoot. Here,” He walked over to one of the garment racks. “More clothes for you. I know you have a big closet. And if you run out of space, just take Yoongi’s, he only wears like three things despite my best efforts.”

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re not kidding. Ok thanks,” You took the clothing. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no trouble. Feel free to see yourself out, I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh and please make sure the catering has strawberries.”

“Strawberries? Got it.” You were learning so much today.

You exited the backroom and saw Jimin over near one of the pedestals. He was chatting with JK who was getting fitted with a corset. What an itty bitty waist, you admired. The two of them seemed to be having a good time and you had a new list of things to do so you waved at Jimin and headed to 1802 to drop off your new clothes. You had forgotten Hoseok knew you lived with Yoongi. The week had flown by.

You sent a text message to Jiwoo asking if you could stop by her desk and ask her a few questions to make sure everything was set up for tomorrow and then stopped by the apartment.

You conferred with her and learned how to navigate catering requests via the company website; apparently it wasn’t available on the app, good to know. you felt much better about the shoot tomorrow but still nervous and excited.

You knocked on the door to Genius Lab. No answer. Never any answer. You typed the code in and saw Yoongi wearing his headphones, lost in his own world. He had told you to just wait on the sofa when this was the case and that he would eventually notice you. Normally the smell of coffee was what alerted him to your presence, but you had come empty handed today. You sat down on the couch and took out your phone.

YN: I don’t mean to alarm you. But there’s something behind you.

You saw his phone light up. He ignored it for a minute, presumably to finish listening to a song, and then picked it up. You heard him laugh and take off his headphones. “You are the worst.” He spun around.

“So mean. Hey. Tomorrow is my first photoshoot. I checked on the outfits for you. By the way, Hoseok is like Sherlock Holmes with clothing. I learned I’m supposed to contact catering, I have hair and make-up requests in. Do I need to do anything else?”

Yoongi thought for a minute. He never really participated in that side of the photoshoot, now that he reflected on it. He walked his way through a day on set. “No. The changing rooms and photography are handled by other departments. Check with Jiwoo or Jimin, they’ve both set up a shoot before.”

“I did. I’m getting ready to send in the last food request. Any requests?”

“Mandarins. I don’t like to eat a lot on set because I don’t want stuff getting stuck in my teeth.”

“That makes sense. Ok. I’ll let you get back to it then.” You got up and stretched.

“Tomorrow will go fine. If you forgot anything, it will be somewhere in this building.” He reassured you.

“That makes me feel a lot better.” You said honestly. “Alright, I’ll see you around.”

“Later.”

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The next day arrived with Yoongi heading off to the hair and make-up department and you heading to the 11th floor to see what the photo set up looked like. You exited the elevator. Man your hands were sweaty, you followed the sounds of voices and made your way to the shooting location. The lighting crew was checking their overheads, a stand-in was posing on the various props they had set out. It looked as though there were three separate “areas” for shooting photos. One area had a large white couch, complete with coffee table, rubber plant, magazines. The whole set up designed to look like a living room. A second space was a blue sheet with a white background. The third space was a kitchen, complete with an island, stovetop, and refrigerator. Holy moly this space was huge. You marveled at it.

“Hello, can I help you?” An older man walked over.

“Oh hi, I’m YLN. Yoongi’s assistant. I was stopping by to check the set up. It looks incredible.”

“Thank you. Yes. Here, let me walk you through it.”

You received a tour of the set and also an overview of the order of shooting. You also found out that next week, weather permitting, there would be a second shooting at the park across the street. You got catering checked in, or at least pointed to the table and felt like you did a thing. The same happened when the clothing team showed up. You pointed to dressing rooms and the vanity where the accessories trunk should go. You were thankful no one had asked you any questions so far. This was a steep learning curve. You had hoped someone you knew might be here today to help ease your nerves, but so far, it was all new faces.

Finally, you saw one familiar face. Alice walked in, carrying a small case with her. You waved.

“Hey! It’s nice to see you again.” She said. “I had no idea you were Yoongi’s assistant until today.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I didn’t mention that. I was so overwhelmed that first day,” you smiled.

“No worries. He was just telling me and Bongcha that he had an assistant now. He’s almost done. His make-up is setting. I’m on hair today which isn’t my strong suit, but it’s not like he’s needing a fancy up-do or anything and it’s good for me to practice.”

“Ok great. This is my first time at a photoshoot, so if there’s something I’m supposed to be doing but I’m not, can you let me know?” You confided in her.

“Absolutely. It looks like most of the stuff is set up how it usually is. Just remember,” she got closer to you and spoke quieter, “You are Yoongi’s assistant. Some of these people, especially these older guys will try to get you to do stuff like get their coffee, grab them snacks. That is not your job. It’s not by job. If they have an assistant, it’s their job.”

“I knew I liked you when we first met,” you smiled at her. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Anytime Unnie.”

She walked over and took out her hair tools and placed them on the table reserved for hair and make-up. A few minutes later you saw Yoongi walk in wearing a black shirt and grey sweats. His face looked even more beautiful than normal. Next to him was a petite girl with long black hair pulled up into a ponytail, dragging a make-up train behind her. Yoongi looked around for a second, and then locked eyes with you. You saw the tiniest smile threaten to come out as he walked over.

“Hey. Everything here looks good.” He gestured to the room.

“Thanks. I didn’t do most of it, I just pointed and people seemed to know what to do already. Your face looks good.”

Yoongi chuckled, “You can thank Bongcha for that. Bongcha, this is YN.”

Bongcha stuck out her hand, “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nice to meet you as well. You do good work. I give his face a 10/10. Highly recommend.”

“Well, it’s easy when you have such a great model to start with,” She smiled while looking up at Yoongi.

Yoongi had started to blush between the pair of compliments. “Is Hoseok here yet?”

“No not yet.” You took out your phone to see if you had any messages from Hoseok. Nope. You looked back up, “Bongcha, I’m sure you already know, but the make-up table is over there. Alice is setting up right now.”

“Great, thanks!” She headed over, her shiny hair swishing behind her.

Speak of the devil in blue himself, Hoseok strutted in at that exact moment wearing an electric blue suit. His crisp white shirt underneath popped beneath the jacket, and his pocket square had little sunshines on it.

“Wow. You look like the sky.” You said before you could help it.

“Thank you. Indeed. It was my inspiration today. It’s a crime to be indoors beneath these artificial lights on such a beautiful day. Oh well. It can’t be helped.” He laid eyes on Yoongi, like a predator gazing on its prey, “Yoongi. Baby. Come.”

Yoongi scrunched his face. “Don’t call me baby. If you miss the sunlight so much, leave. I know how to dress myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don't know which pieces go together.” Hoseok grabbed Yoongi by the shoulders and started leading him over to the clothing section, leaving you to laugh at the pair of them. You went over to the table you had set up for yourself between make-up and the food. You had printed off several lists that morning to help you stay focused. You checked off several action items. Satisfied, you sat your clipboard down and looked around. It was a well-oiled machine for sure. You walked over to the hair and make-up table. “Hey ladies.”

“Hey! Have you two met yet?” Alice asked, referring to Bongcha.

“Yep, we just did.” Bongcha confirmed, putting on her make-up apron and filling it with various powders and brushes.

“Ooooo we should do a make-up party sometime.” Alice squealed. “We try to do it with all the new girls. And since Yoongi is” she hushed her voice again “One of our favorites. We have to take care of his assistant.”

You smiled, “Sure. That sounds nice. Excuse me.” You decided to go see how the clothes were going.

“Yes. Yoongi’s assistant. So glad you’re here.” Hoseok turned to you.

“She has a name, it’s YN.” You heard Yoongi say from behind the curtain.

“Yes yes. I know. We talked yesterday, remember? At that meeting I scheduled for me and you that you did not come to. Anyways, here. The outfits are now coordinated. They have tags on them corresponding to their accessory in the accessory trunk. Some pieces have more than one option that the Director of Photography and Yoongi will decide on. Got it?”

You looked over the set up. It seemed simple enough since Hoseok had organized it so well .”Yep. You going out to enjoy the sunshine?”

“Honey, I am the sunshine. I’m off to get laid after having to deal with this cloudy baby.” He gestured to the changing room.

“Don’t call me baby.” Yoongi shouted from behind the curtain. You just laughed as Hoseok turned around and left. You waited for a few minutes.

“You ok in there? Need me to come help you put your pants on?” You teased.

“Not necessary.” Yoongi slid open the curtain. Why was everyone teasing him today? He pouted without thinking about it.

You walked over, straightening the collar of his shirt “Hey now, you can’t go around pouting like a baby and not expect people to call you one. Here,” you handed him a mandarin. He scowled at you as he took it. “Such a pretty face” You laughed.

“Yeah whatever. I can eat this while they set up the white meter. You should be fine to just hang around at this point.”

“Alright. Sounds good.” The two of you walked over to the main part of the set where the Director gave Yoongi instructions about where to sit as they practiced the blocking and softbox placement.

“Oh my god he looks so good eating that tangerine.” You overheard. Your eyes bugged out slightly and you turned around. A group of women from the photography team were looking at the images to check the saturation and focus, as well as apparently the model. Damn. NEXT CHAPTER

@lidda @anpanman-sonyeondan @firefairy1 @cuteipat @sugaslittlekookies @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny @livelyjay @niniita-ah @bobbyboops @honeysunandsoil @deathkat657

#BTS suga #bts writing #bts fic #suga x you #suga x reader #yoongi scenarios #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #suga x y/n #bts suga x reader #bts suga x you

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cilldaracailin · 3 years ago

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I like to come on every now and again with something that is not Robyn and Taron related and today is that lucky day!

So I got...

A ticket to see Elton John in Cork in July next year!!

(I wanted to put a gif of Elton John in here but A) There are very few and B) They are of Taron playing Elton John...)

And actually I currently have two tickets to Elton John next year.

So here is the story part of the post.

I knew I wanted a ticket. Last time Elton is ever preforming in Ireland, hell yes I want a ticket. I have seen him before and it was amazing (Pissed rain and was freezing cold but it was amazing) so I definitely needed to get a ticket to go and see his tour.

I brought my laptop into work, ready to go at 9am to get a ticket. Except the internet would not load for me!

The other manager then set up her hot spot for me so I could get online. Woohoo. Back in the queue and got my ticket for pitch seating, row X, seat something or other, I can’t remember and I was thrilled! Pitch seating? Hell yes and row X was amazing to me. That was like 24 rows from the front. Perfect.

Except I needed to log into my Ticketmaster to pay... Think I could remember my password? Of course not! Hit the ‘forgot password’ option so many times but the clock is ticking down for my time for my ticket purchase! No email, lost the ticket.

In I go again, same ticket, same problem! It was just not sending me the email to reset the password. I was then trying on my phone and the time was running down again!

One of staff members (I used to work in the room with her) came in and was like ‘well you get the ticket?’ and I was like ‘no i cant remember my password!’

So she got her phone, logged onto Ticketmaster on the app on her phone and got onto the tickets and got a row z, seat 172 I think it was (I am still waiting for her to send me on all the details..). So I was like yeah just book it, cos I was worried I would end up with no ticket or a seat on the stands way high up, so through her Ticketmaster, we got my ticket booked!

Delighted I was... Though a little put off that I didn't have any of the details on my Ticketmaster (Cos I am weird like that and hate having to ask and ask for my confirmation etc.. I would rather have it myself..)

But...

Then I came home on lunch and my curiosity got the better of me and I logged into Ticketmaster, changed my password and searched for Elton tickets.

First one that came up for one ticket was row H, seat 68! I was like Oh my Goodness! That seat is amazing and SO MUCH better than the one I got earlier...

So I kinda bought the ticket...

So hence I have two tickets for Elton next year and I know it is Elton so I didn't mind paying the massive price, but I paid it twice.... woops!

I am going to sell the first one and just keep my row H one! That is 8 rows from the front! Delighted!

And sure look if I can’t sell it, I will figure it out closer to the time. It is nearly a year away.

I also booked my hotel for the stay over too and goodness that was a tricky one. Already there was very little left so that was a bit expensive too but look it’s next year, I can save my pennies and justify the ticket and hotel and as Cork is about a 2 and a half hour drive so I will just take the day off work and get down early. Might even look to get an early check in so I can get in the hotel early and get settled. The hotel is half an hour walk from the stadium..

But woohoo! (Still with two tickets though... haha!)

So it was a mad ticket buying day. I forgot the nervous/stressful/exciting rush of buying concert tickets and I am glad I can ‘save’ for the year to pay for it. It is very pricey and I know I am super lucky being able to go and finger crossed by next year, all will be good to go.

Anyway. that is my story of the day.

In other news, Ireland is basking in 28 - 30 degree heat and has been since Saturday. I actually have a bit of a tan but while work hasn't been too bad during the week (The office has a desk fan that I can sit in front of), today was ridiculous. So much so I had to shower on my lunch! I love the heat but working in it is hard and we have no magic air con in our building. Each room has a fan but the temperature in the rooms is hitting 29 or 30 degrees so the staff and kids are melting.

Thankfully tomorrow is Friday and then the weekend and I do believe the weather is meant to change over the weekend to about 20 degrees and rain so hopefully it will cool down a tad!

Ok I think I am done with my stories and catch up now!

I am still working away on Robyn and Taron. It is slow going ( I have been enjoying the sun after work and working on my tan ) but I have been writing it.

Anywhoo, I will stop now, I will just keep rambling otherwise!

Hope everyone is well!

Suze xxx

#Elton John #Elton John Tickets #Yellow Brick Road Tour #Last Elton Tour Ever #Cork #Ireland #Concert #Life update #Heatwave #Melting

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burgerkang000 · 4 years ago

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Email for better love lives

I HAVE A NAME FOR THIS ONE YAAAAAY

im doing the read more thing, cuz u know scrolling ugh

@beyoncesdragon @aixy-hpsa (if anyone else wanna be tagged, let me know!!!)

This is a Yunho fic!

enjoy?

You met San at a compulsory public speaking class, where only you both had to attend for grades; it was filled with nerds who came voluntarily. And your bond begin with bored out glances at each other and loud sighs exchanged. And after that you guys hung out a lot, went to get coffee while doing homework, caught rides with each other, and waved whenever your paths crossed.

You met Yunho when San wanted you to meet his friends that he wouldn’t stop talking about, which made you slightly jealous; you yearned for a bond like that. You pushed that thought away, nothing good comes with jealousy. And while San and his friends would go about their own business, you would stick to the side-lines, not knowing what to say or do, even though they try their best to include you.

Yunho would be the one to keep you company, actively telling you about his day and attentively listen when you were asked about yours. He would also help you study and take you out to grab coffee when San would be too busy.

Anyone would be a fool to not fall for Yunho, with his smile that make his eyes crinkle at the corners, teeth on display, fluffy hair. Who wouldn’t fall for him, at least you could keep it inside, and no one had to know.

“Look at Yunho in this picture, he looks so handsome” San shows you the pictures from your quick break before the exams to the arcade. You take a glance, damn. You know that the moment you open your mouth, you’re screwed.

“Hmm”

“I don’t like it when you’re vague”

“Yes Yunho is cute” That’s all you plan on saying anyways, but you had to panic, because what if San thinks you’re not commenting on it too much and picks up that you’re crushing on Yunho? Ok, so you were overthinking.

“Too cute that it’s impossible he exists, I mean I see him every day but it’s not like I believe he’s real, there is a limit to being cute and all. I mean a recreation of a Greek god- I mean he should be a Greek God himself-”

You were cut short by San’s exploding laughter and as you voice your confusion to him, he still laughs until you violently shake him-

“Yah! Why are you laughing?”

He finally calms down enough to tell you-

“Just say you have a crush on him”

You open your mouth to deny-

“Admit it~” He says scrolling through his phone again.

You huff out, San was your best (read: only) friend, it wouldn’t hurt to tell him, so you nod the tiniest bit, and San grins from ear to ear.

“I mean, I didn’t see it coming, but when you started rambling off like that, it was obvious.”

You sigh.

“You tell this to anyone, I will personally murder you”

“Sure sure”

And after that, he thankfully let you change the topic.

Ever since then, whenever you’d meet Yunho, right after that, you’d whip out your phone to text San; something vague like-

“He’s wearing a red sweater”

“He dyed his hair blue!”

“Kill me”

And then you’d go home and text San about how a person; a human, cannot simply be so beautiful, and ramble off about him.

“But sir, I don’t have an email” You tell the professor, who has just asked to submit your assignment by mail.

“Don’t whine to me, and make one, is there a student your age without email? How do you have social media accounts?”

“I don’t have them” you reply

“Just make one, it’s extremely useful, and won’t take much of your time” He said, in a brushing off manner, guess he doesn’t believe you.

You nod and sigh as you leave to the next class. If you can’t whine to your professor, you can whine to Yunho. Who listens to the whole thing like the god damn angel he is, and as you open your phone to create one, he gently coaxes it out of your hand, asks you if it’s okay if he creates one for you instead and when you nod he turns his attention to the phone, while you’re just dumbly staring at your hand, where Yunho’s hand made contact with yours.

“Look, I sent my self a mail using yours, lets chat on mail for a while, you can get used to it” He says, you nod, and talk for a while, and then Yunho had to go. You wave at him while he leaves and you text San.

“What’s your mail?”

And when you finally get it, you send him a mail.

URGENT: JEONG YUNHO TOUCHED MY HAND, I REPEAT JEONG YUNHO TOUCHED MY HAND, MOM COME PICK ME UP PLEASE.

I MEAN HE WAS FABULOUS TODAY TO, IF IT WASN’T OBVIOUS; HIS HAIR WAS SO SOFT I CLIKED A PIC, LOOK:

[Image attached]

DO ME A FAVOUR, WHEN I DIE, SIT ON THE VERY SAME CHAIR HE’S SITTING ON, LOOK AT THE SAME DEIRECTION HE’S LOOKING AT AND BURY ME THERE, WHILE YOUR AT IT PRINT THIS ON MY GRAVESTONE.

WHEN I DIE PLEASE TELL HIM I LOVE HIM IN THE OTHER WAY.

BYEBYE

Later that day you get a reply from San saying that you’re too dramatic and an email from Yunho, which you didn’t think much about the time. He was the one who wanted to talk in mail, so you open it and-

And you realise you accidently send it to him too.

*cue freak out*

“So I must have send it to him too-” San blinks at you for a while and then-

Laughs at your face saying random things like

“This is gold”

“Nonononono”

“Never in my life- never”

At this point, you think he’s just spewing English vines that he’s been watching a bit too much to be considered healthy. And now you’re overcome with sadness, and as soon as he notices, he starts apologising and you bow you head, you think you look like a rag doll, and then cry. And san runs circles on you back, occasionally tucking strands of hair behind you ear and wait till you finish.

After a good while of snot- running type of crying, puffy eyes and ringing ears, you start to ramble, a habit that got you here in the first place.

“I don’t think I’m ready for rejection, I mean I was perfectly fine watching him from the side-lines. Heck I would watch him get married and I’d probably say nothing, like I’m not dying inside, proceed to get married, I’m crying tears of happiness-”

“What makes you so sure that he’s going to reject you?”

“I don’t know ok? But this isn’t a movie, he sees me as a friend and I had to go and catch feelings for him.”

San sighs.

“So, what’re you going to do now?”

It was hard, but you finally managed to blackmail San to help you avoid Yunho situations.

“And how long do you plan to do this?”

“Until my plane ticket and Visa to Alaska are approved and I change my name to Veronica Fall”

He looks at you, and the look speaks for itself, you’re being dramatic. You raise your arms in mock surrender and flop on top of the bed.

“Tomorrow everyone is hanging out, Yunho will be there, you coming?”

You pointedly grin at his cheeky expression, and he mimics the way you had surrendered just a few moments ago.

You stare at the response you had given to all the missed calls from Yunho.

I’m busy

Sorry, I was showering

I’m going to be busy for a while.

And you watch as the three dots move, and then stop and then move again, you feel as if your heartbeat moves along with those dots, stopping when it disappears, and then finally a response.

We need to talk, I gave you your time, and it’s not fair.

You feel like this is a new side of Yunho you haven’t seen, an assertive one. And you realise, just because you’re a coward, doesn’t mean that you can leave Yunho in the dark, even though you have fears of Yunho leaving you, getting awkward; deep down, you know, that Yunho, he’d never treat your feelings as something useless. And that makes you feel more in love.

And who knows unrequited love may not be so bad, maybe, just maybe; for Yunho it might not be so bad.

Fine

After sending the last text, you get up to clean the place, take out boxes littered about, and books and papers all lying about that you haven’t cared to put away. You do the dishes, and tie your hair into a pony, you’re distracting yourself from the real problem of facing him, for now you let yourself do it; later, you can scream at yourself.

And a right when you reach for the broomstick that you had tucked in deep behind the storage room; you hear a knock at your door.

You don’t think much about it, until you open the door. Low and behold; Yunho was standing at the doorway, a determined look on his face and he walks past you into the house.

You can’t help but think; geez, come on in. But you’re just salty.

And he opens his phone and shows it at your face, too close to read, practically in between your eyes, its touching your nose too. And you’re the dramatic one.

“Explain; explain this email, that was, I figure, supposed to be sent to San, explain why you’ve been avoiding me and my calls, and wherever I go right after I replied to this, I’m not going or letting you go until you do.”

And his voice cracks at the end bit, but you don’t notice, you’re in a bubble of thinking; thinking how to phrase this, just overthinking; maybe.

And moments which feel like hours pass, and you decide to do this the ripping off the band aid way. But it turned out more like the ramble it off way

“I like you? No, no that came out wrong… I love you? Yes, I’m pretty sure I love you, and don’t worry I know you’re not into me that way-”

And you don’t know what really happened; there was a hand on your face, right under your nose, and he was right in front of you.

“Sometimes, everything you say is nonsense.” He breathes, you open your mouth to respond, and he applies more pressure with his palm, to keep you quiet. You can’t help but think of the way your lips mouthed at his palm, not the time; not the time at all.

And then he continues.

“You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that, the moment I got that email, it took me a few minutes to understand, but when I did, I already pictured our five adopted cats, not gonna lie”

Your eyes widen in shock, did he just indirectly say he like you back, in the form of cats? This is why you fell for him in the first place.

“Did I creep you out? I must have creeped you out, forget I said that.”

And you laugh behind his palm, and he slowly removes it, moves it to your shoulder, drags it down the length of your arm, and interlocks it with your hand, a sweet smile on his face, the contagious one, so it’s only law that you smile back, teeth and all, since you can’t hold it back.

“We should go on a date.”

“That; we must.”

You were on one of your many dates, too wind up in each other to not notice the others who also wanted to hang out with you, you totally kept the news from San; you and Yunho are in this together, so he needs to also be comfortable with telling San, after a lot of thinking, you both settle on letting them find out, which may take years to get in their daft heads, but for now, you both have put fate in them.

San caught on way too quickly, the moment you enter the café and sit down, he says-

“So you’re not moving to Alaska? Or is your husband; Yunho moving with you?”

You blush and look down-

“Look, I can explain-”

And he breaks into a wide grin,

“I’m happy for ya”

You and Yunho were scrolling through many of the messages you have send to San; the ones fawning over Yunho, as much as he likes to get you flustered, he himself also gets flustered, so it’s a win-win situation.

“They haven’t caught on yet” you suddenly say.

It’s true, other than San none of them have caught on yet that you both have been dating, and that’s kind of weird, since it’s been almost a whole year.

But it’s not like you’re gonna sit them down and tell them. You and Yunho have a better plan.

Well you have a better plan.

“-and they walk in on us!”

“…..”

“Or not?”

“No”

You end up inviting them over for dinner, and as they take their first bites, you happily chirp in that you’re dating and Yunho adds that you’re moving in with, leaving everyone to choke on their food, except San, who had a cocky expression, which soon turned into a choking fit, who’s cocky now?

And Wooyoung looks up, and goes “Wait, you’re serious” and continues choking, this time on nothing.

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unbelievableholland · 5 years ago

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Hey, can i request a harry x reader, where the reader is tom personal assistant, meaning she was with tom in America, while the twins were in London celebrating their birthday. And her and harry have been together for a long time so she's really sad she cant make it and so is tom. And it doesn't help that leading up to the interview the bday was the only thing talked about in the family gc. So they both just decide to still fly to the UK and surprise them all. Thank youu😊

Surprise!

Pairing: Harry Holland x Reader

Warnings: nothing. Just flufffff.

Words: 2,610

Summary: You’re Tom’s PA, but also Harry’s girlfriend. What happens when Tom’s interview is rescheduled to the day of the twins’ birthday, and you’re thousands of miles away from London?

A/N: Again, sorry this took so long! And this also might be the fluffiest fic I’ve ever written. I hope you like it!

——————————————————————

“Tom! Your interview with GQ got rescheduled to Friday!”

It’s a Monday afternoon, and Tom surprisingly had nothing to do today. Being his P.A meant knowing his schedule, and also managing your own life. Part of that is clearing his schedule for Friday so you could go back to London in time for the 21st birthday of your 5-year boyfriend, Harry. Tom’s brother, of course.

Hearing frantic footsteps running down the stairs is not what Tom expected to hear today. He thought this is a chill day for the both of you.

Tom stands up from the couch, eyes wide and panicking. Quickly swallowing the tea he has in his mouth, he speaks.

“What?! I thought Friday was all clear???”

“Yeah I thought so as well! But I just got an email from GQ that it’s going to be moved!”

Tom has his hand running through his hair and he’s pacing around the room.

“Can’t you cancel it?”

You look at him with sad eyes. “You know it’s not that easy”

Tom just ends up sitting down in defeat. You and Tom had been looking forward to going home and attending the twins’ party. You have plane tickets and everything, and all you’ve talked about in the Holland group chat is the party.

Since it’s already their 21st birthday, they have a big party planned.

“Fine. I’m just going to tell them we can’t go.”

Tom doesn’t want to, obviously, but it’s not like he has a choice.

You don’t answer. You only go back to your room upstairs. Although it does seem hopeless, you’re determined to make this work.

You sit on your bed, right as you get a call from Harry.

“So, you’re really not going to attend?”

Your heart sinks a little. You don’t like hearing his voice so sad. You promised you’d go home in time for the party, and all of you were looking forward to it.

You sigh. “I’ll make it work. I’ll find a way around it and we’ll make it there in time. I just have to—”

“Y/N, it’s ok. Don’t stress yourself out too much. After the interview, you can go back here and we’ll do another celebration. We’ll invite a few friends and it’ll be fine.”

His voice sounds enthusiastic now, because he just accepted that it comes with your job. He offered it to you in the first place when Harrison had to quit due to his own career.

“I know you’re pouting right now, Y/N. Stop pouting. If you try to reschedule Tom’s interview, you’ll only stress yourself out more.”

“Ok, fine. Promise we’ll celebrate after?”

“Promise. I have to go, we have some party planning to do. Love youuu”

“Love you too, babe.”

With another sigh, you hang up. Yes, you told him you wouldn’t reschedule, but you’re already determined to make it work.

And so far, Tom’s interview is canceled because the studio they were originally going to shoot in is closed because of technical problems. At least, that’s what they told you.

The party on the other hand, starts at 7:00 pm on Friday, February 14th. Your flight is scheduled on 5:00 pm on Thursday.

Now, you have to figure out a compromise for GQ. You could have the interview moved to Wednesday, because it gives them time to figure out the technical problems they have and you can make the party on time.

You pull up your laptop and you start writing them an email. For hours that night you’re just sending emails back and forth with GQ.

Technically, you could just tell them you aren’t going to attend. The interview being cancelled isn’t Tom’s fault. The only reason any of you don’t want to cancel the interview is because it was already announced to the fans and all of them are excited.

But at the end of the day, after a lot of convincing and reasoning, they rescheduled the interview to two weeks from now.

You stand up, quietly jumping and celebrating since now, you’re actually going to make it to Harry’s birthday. You’re too excited that you can’t even sleep.

You keep weighing your options though. You can tell them, or you can surprise them. As you pace around your room, trying to be as quiet as possible so you don’t bother Tom, you ultimately decide to not tell anyone.

Not even Tom.

In the morning, you tell him that you had already cancelled the flight, which, obviously you haven’t. You just need to make sure he doesn’t actually cancel it for real himself.

Ever since Monday, Tom has been a little gloomy. You feel bad, but at the same time, you wanted to keep the surprise. So as much as you could, you tried to cheer him up until Thursday.

You know he’s tired, so you cleared his schedule for the week, except for the GQ interview. At least, that’s what Tom thinks. Clearing the rest of his schedule is something you didn’t think was possible, but you still did it. His mood lifted a bit, but it didn’t help that the Holland GC is filled with details about the party.

You were looking forward to it, but not as much as Tom. He gets homesick and he just wants to go home. For once he just wants to let loose.

But, tomorrow is already Thursday. So, you just have to wait a few more hours and you could finally tell him in the morning. Later in the night, you face time the Hollands to wish the twins an advanced happy birthday.

God, you really did miss them so much.

Once the call ends both you and Tom go to your designated bedrooms, you set your alarm and you go to bed.

Usually, waking up at 6 in the morning when you have nothing to do isn’t the best start to your day. No though, you practically jump out of bed and run to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast.

Tom would be waking up in about an hour or so, and once he does, he immediately smells eggs and bacon. Which is rare, because you usually just order something for breakfast because both of you aren’t really the best at cooking.

“Uhm, are you cooking? I thought you didn’t know how to cook?”

You shrug. “I’ve been taking lessons from Sam.”

You present him two plates. Both have bacon, eggs, and garnished with toast and parsley. It looks good, and Tom’s surprised. He’d never seen you cook something that looks this appetizing.

When he takes a bite, he absolutely loves it. For once, you didn’t burn the bacon…or the eggs…or the toast.

“What’s got you in a good mood today?”

“Well, maybe because of these.”

You get the plane tickets from your pocket and you show it to him.

“I didn’t cancel the flight. I told them to reschedule, and they did. The interview is two weeks from now and I cleared your schedule for next week, so we can spend the next week in London.”

His whole face beams, his eyes wide and fills with happy tears as he engulfs you in a hug and spins you twice than puts you down.

“You, Y/N L/N are the best PA ever. Don’t tell Harrison that though.”

“Hmm, I’ll think about it.” you teased. You laugh for a bit, both of you happy that you’ll be able to get home in time for the party.

“I’ll go pack my bags then.”

“Tom, I already packed it for you earlier when you were sleeping. Just take a shower and all that then we’ll go to the airport.”

“You…really are the best you know.”

“I try.” you shrug.

“Don’t tell anyone though. I was thinking of surprising them.”

With a nod of his head, he goes to his room and prepares himself for the long flight you have ahead.

You on the other hand, is already prepared. So, all you have to do is wait.

Hours later, during the flight, Tom’s asleep beside you. You’re always the type to get bored on plane rides, so you preferred the window seat. Unfortunately, even after continuously trying to convince Tom to switch seats with you, he didn’t budge.

So, you ended up doing nothing on the plane. You couldn’t find any good movies to watch, and you’re way too excited to fall asleep anytime soon.

You look at your phone, and with an exasperated sigh, you tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling for a few minutes.

You still have 7 more hours to go.

“Tom. Tom, wake up. We’re here.”

“Hmph. 5 more minutes”

You roll your eyes. You slowly grab the pillow from under his head and yank it out from under him. Since he’s leaning towards the wall, he hits his head.

“Ow!”

“I said, we’re here. You already stole the window seat, the least you can do is get up.”

“Fine, fine.”

As he got up, he grabbed his bags from the overhead compartment then grabbed yours and handed them to you. Once you had your bags, you immediately ran out. Since everyone already got out before you, the plane is relatively spacious and you have more than enough space to run out.

“Y/N! Wait for me!

“You already took too long, you div! I want to see my boyfriend!” You shout from across the plane and Tom chuckles at your childishness.

“You don’t think I do too?”

“You’re telling me Tommy has a boyfriend?” You tease, but you laugh at the face Tom makes. He tilts his head back and groans.

“You know what I mean!”

“Hmm, do I?”

He rolls his eyes and chases after you when he sees that you start running.

When the cab arrives in front of the Holland household, you excitedly get out, but you immediately stop.

“Wait, Tom, should we surprise them at the actual party?”

“We can, but where do we stay?”

“We can stay at my place.”

“Aren’t your parents home?”

“I meant my house.”

“You have a house?!”

“Well technically, I share it with someone else.” you wink and run to the direction of your house, while Tom is busy thinking about what you had implied.

“You and who’s house?” You continue to run though, and he starts to shout.

“Y/N— you and who’s house!?”

He only groans when you don’t even look back and runs after you. He catches up quick since you’re carrying bags. So is he, but he’s more active than you.

Once you got to your house, only a few blocks away from the Hollands, you get the keys in your back pack and open it.

Tom’s eyes go wide when he sees pictures of you and Harry together. Some of Harry’s things that Tom could recognize is also there.

The house looks clean. It’s very organized and it’s very artsy. When he explored more of the house, he even saw a studio and a room with gym equipment. Your voice from the kitchen snaps him out of his shock.

“Harry told me earlier that he’ll be staying at your place today. He said he already left food and water for Holly, so he won’t be back here until tomorrow.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Who’s Holly?” and as if on cue, you hear the pitter patter of paws going down the stairs. A little mocha colored pug greeting you.

“What?! You’re telling me, you and Harry have a house a few blocks away from ours, and you have a dog?!”

“Yup!”

“How did we not know??”

“Well, about one or two years ago, we wanted our own private place, and the previous owners of this house just moved out. We got a little lonely sometimes, so we got a dog. Oh, and whenever Harry randomly disappeared or whenever he says some dumb excuse to leave the house, this is usually where he goes. We didn’t usually stay here though, this is kind of just our…safe space, you know?”

Yes, Tom does get it, and seeing you there, sitting on the couch playing with the pug you and Harry have, he knows that Harry’s in good hands. That he’s happy. Tom has always been protective over his brothers, and that included being skeptical of you at times. Even though he knows you’re a good person.

It just kind of hit him now that, you’re it for Harry. Even if you and Harry have been together for years.

“You can stay in the guest bedroom for now, since it’s 3 am and the party isn’t until hours later.”

“Uh yeah, sure. Where is it?”

“Upstairs, first room to your right. Bathroom’s the last door in the hallway to your left.”

“Oh, ok. Thanks.”

“Uh, Tom? I’m sorry if this is all so sudden. Harry and I really just wanted our own place and—”

“It’s fine. I’m not mad. Shocked, yes, but I’m happy if the both of you are happy.”

“Thanks.” you say with a very grateful smile. You know how much Tom loves his brothers, so him saying those words means a lot to you. You’ve always been like his little sister, but this just feels like you’re officially a part of their family. To some degree, at least. You still need to tell Dom and Nikki.

Just before he disappeared from your line of vision, you yell.

“Oh, and Sam knows!”

“WHAT?!”

When Tom wakes up, he sees that you’re buzzing with excitement. You look really excited to be home, and so is he. Of course, he waits a few more hours since the party’s at 7. He takes a nap, and once he wakes up, you’re already dressed.

“Tom, come on! Get readyyyy!”

You’re running around the house, trying to find your boots and getting your gift for Harry.

When Tom came out of his room, prepared and well dressed, he sees the box your holding.

“Took you long enough, ya div.”

As you both walked along the sidewalk, he points to the box.

“So, what’s in the box?”

“Remember the Nikon camera he’s always wanted?”

“No. No way.”

“Yes. Yes way. I’ve been saving up for it.” You say with a proud smile on your face.

“That’s like, 2,000 dollars!”

“yeah, I know.”

“I don’t think I’ve told you before, but you’re good for him. Thank you.”

He says this as you arrive at the front door of the Holland household, and just before you open the door, you hug him.

“Thanks Tom, I appreciate it. Really.”

You pull away gently, and he beams at you.

“Don’t let it get to your head, L/N.”

“Hmm, I’ll try. You ready?”

“Go ahead.”

You open the door. The party hasn’t started yet, and no one has arrived yet.

When Sam hears the door open, his head turns towards you. The moment he realizes what’s happening, he slaps Harry’s shoulder excitedly and points towards you.

You look at both of them with a large smile and set the gift down on the shelf near the door.

“Happy birthday boys!”

Harry runs to you immediately. Passed Tom and hugs you. You jump up so your legs are around his waist as he spins you.

“God— I missed you, darling!”

He puts you down and kisses you. It’s the giggly kind and you both smile into the kiss and he pulls back to look at you.

“Best birthday ever.” He kisses your head and pulls you to his chest, your arms wrapped around him.

“Hey! What about me?” Tom says as he fakes a pout.

“Stop ruining the moment, dickhead.” You and Harry say in unison.

——————————————————————

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lovesaadiqa · 3 years ago

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BBL Costs, Prep + Recovery

Im booked!! I talked to a few friends who I know either got this surgery or is getting this done. I wanted one since forever but I wanted my teeth done first. The deciding factor came down to my birthday plans.

Originally I was going to do a birthday tour. First weekend of October in Miami for carnival, 2nd weekend in Atl for Freak Nik, 3rd weekend in Bahamas and finally Nola for the finale. Well Nola was just hit with a storm so yeah that’s out. Once I totaled up the flights, hotels, food and spending money.. I was like hmm, I can get a fat ass and started this process. Immediately looked into surgeon and Dr. Pena was my favorite, his bodies come out so mf snatched, he’s located in Columbia. Columbian surgeons can take out way more fat than American doctors however, the fatality rate is stupid and ultimately the factor that made me choose an American doctor.

The next step was choosing the surgeon for the body I have and the one I want. I weigh 151 and im 5′6″ I’m considered a “skinny bbl”. I started researching doctors in Atlanta (so I could recover at home) and Miami (like duh). I chose to go with Dr. Desouza in Miami with CG Cosmetics for a few reasons. First, I love the look of his skinny bbl’s on other women with the same body type, weight and height as me. Secondly, he was having a special for the end of the year (lipo 360, bbl, jplasma for $6500 for the surgeon I wanted) this almost sold me but it was the surgery date!! Jplasma is skin tightening procedure to help with loose skin, you can only get this with lipo. When they perform lipo they created canals under your skin to remove the fat.. well those same canals are essential when getting Jplasma.

Ok so I decided on the surgeon, contacted the cosmetic group and had a consultation which is pretty much just front, side and back view pictures.. I think they use this to make sure you don’t need a tummy tuck prior to surgery. They also asked me questions about previous surgeries and if i’ve ever had anesthesia. The next step went pretty quickly, we talked about what would be lipo’d (abs, waist, back.. I wanted inner thighs, an additional 2k, but was advised to wait on my pre-op to decide), when I wanted to book and how I'd pay. My consult was on August 30th.. I bitched up when she attempted to take my payment. I am a money hoarder and spending that much money made me feel like I was being financially irresponsible. I called one of my Aunt’s who I felt wouldn’t judge me and also give me sound advise. We talked about my fears, why I was getting the procedure and of course money. My Aunt gave me excellent advice, reassured me and is a professional CNA who offered to accompany me so yeah I dare not turn that down, lol. August 31, 2021, I called my coordinator (the contact between me and my surgeon) and told her I wanted to book, she asked me when I’d be ready and I requested first available which was 9/20/21!! Excited is an understatement.. I'd be 24 days post op on my birthday. After I calmed down I paid in full for multiple reasons: had to in order to secure the date, all surgeries book in this year had to be paid in full, it was the only way to get the discount.. My coordinator gave me so much information I couldn’t see straight (I was also high as shit off life thinking about a fat ass and me in the same sentence).. she emailed + texted everything, congratulated me and we hung up.

I get the emails: “raise you hemoglobin with these vitamins” I purchased vitamin C $2, folic acid $2, iron $3 and floradix $35 - amazon, I take them as directed on the bottle and start eating my ass off (just to give my surgeon more to work with, lol). Talking to one of my gf’s I realize I have to be cleared for surgery?!?! What? I open my email and sure enough I have to have blood work done 15-20 prior to surgery, it was 9/3 and a Friday.. SHIT!! I fly over to an Piedmont Wellstreet urgent care facility as recommended by my friend (she started this process as well so I was crazy grateful for her experience and that she shared it with me). Urgent care was full but opened the next day, my ass was in that line at 7:32 am, I was the 13th person in line and they opened at 8. I get to the desk and my appointment is at 10:30 and I'd have to pay the office visit fee to be seen, it was $155. I came back at my allotted time and was told how much all of my labs would be.. $302. My labs were to be processed and faxed to my surgeon by 9/9 because Labor Day weekend so.. yeah.

I discuss accommodations with my Aunt and realize it’s cheaper, safer and more beneficial for me to go to a recovery house. I search high and low baby and most of them were booked.. found one regardless with lymphatic massages included called Flawless Recovery House. This wasn’t my 1st-6th option but the one with availability on my surgery date so I paid a deposit to hold onto my spot. Total was $1312 for 5 days with 5 massages, I paid a $200 deposit. Next, I booked my flight, round trip $116 with Delta. My surgery date is on a Monday, I have to have my pre-op done on the Saturday prior so I booked a hostel from the 18th-20th on booking.com for $66. I know I could have gotten an airbnb or hotel room but I wanted this experience. I want to go to Amsterdam and stay in a hostel so I need to know what to expect. Also I cannot party, smoke, drink or eat before surgery so fuck it.. a hostel will do, lol.

I smoke big fucking weed and watched someone else’s bbl journey today and realize if I fail the drug test, my surgery will be cancelled and it’ll cost me $1500 to reschedule. Boy the shit sent me into panic mode like I've never experienced before, only to find out the weed isn’t the issue nicotine is, it slows down your heart rate. I can smoke weed just not out of a wood or a rillo and nicotine takes 3-4 days to get out of your system so a bitch barely made it. I just won't be smoking until I get back home lol. Just to be super informative no alcohol, diabetic meds, cocaine, pcp or anything that will fool with your heart or makes your bleed. Today is 9/11 and im one week out from my pre-op... my body is a joke cause I haven’t gained a single pound and normally it’s nothing for me to put on weight. I took my acrylics off, when you’re put to sleep they monitor your oxygen levels with those clamps they put on your fingers and they aren't the most accurate when you have on dark polish or acrylics. I also cannot wear lashes cause when they go to fill this ass in I'll be laying flat on my face. I mean my hair didn’t have requirements but I figure since im naked I might as well be bald.. y'all should see me rn, I look very much like a young man but im hype. I’ll be back later to tell y'all what I pack and purchase prior to my flight. Imma put the dates at the end of each update.. today is 9/11/21

My surgery group send me list of supplies that I would need and the cost came to roughly $1100. Naive me was definitely going to purchase everything on the list from them until I saw Leslie’s (@prettyhaute - on ig) bbl vlog. I went on amazon and got away with murder. Below I’ll list what I purchased and the price I paid versus what the surgery center was quoting me.

Faja - I paid $74.69 - Quoted $160.50 || BBL Pillow - $26.99 - Qouted $42.80 || Arnica pills - $8.95 - Quoted $37.45 || Compression socks - $13.99 for 3 - Quoted $10.70 for 1 || Foams - $17.99 for 3 - Quoted $64.20 for 3 || Scar Cream $$29.82 - Quoted $80.25 || Arnica Gel - $7.92 - Quoted $21.40 ||

There a shit ton of items on the suggested list that I didn't purchase but way more items that wasn’t on the list I still need for instance:

Crocs, benadryll, robe, adult diapers, straws, earplugs, liquid iv, stool softener, antiseptic body wash, avocado float, back board, urinal, pineapple juice, throat calm, 3 moo-moo’s and a massage roller (the crocs are the only thing on this list that cost more than $20). My flight is at 7:15a tomorrow and im so damn nervous but excited. I will spend Saturday and Sunday gallivanting around Miami and then body , ody, ody, ody, ody, ody. I still have to send my entire itinerary to my aunt but I think im all set. 9/17/21

Pre-op was packed but I went on Saturday and was in and out in an hour. I was charged for a covid $80, 3 post-op massages $150 and a drug test $20. I went over my clearance paper work with a medical assistant who also took 9 before pics of me. Keep in mind, your surgery can be cancelled or reschedule if all of you labs aren’t at the surgery center on pre-op day. I cannot stress how important it is to take your labs with you!!! Mine were faxed over from urgent care but I was also provided copies which I took with me. The photos were sent directly to my surgeon to analyze before surgery. From my knowledge, I was also to be fitted for my faja but that never happened, do NOT leave pre-op without a faja!!! I paid for 3 massages from CG totaling $150 which I regret badly. I do NOT recommend getting massages from the surgery center. There are 4-5 different surgeons performing surgeries on any given day and they do at minimum 4 surgeries per day, that’s at least 15-20 different girls with the same surgery and post-op date. CG had 2 massage therapists to drain 15-20 girls. I was drained for 9 mins, your drain massages should last at least 45 mins for maximum drainage. I only used 1 of the 3 massages I paid for and was denied a refund. That is a huge downside to CG once they have your money good fucking luck getting it back! Ps. Ellie was a royal fucking cunt!!!!! She told my medical assistant that I didn’t need a faja so I was never fitted for one and woke up out of surgery with a binder on versus a faja like I should have. I wanted to slap the shit out of her and took the charge on the chin but I wanted my surgery so I refrained.. I was put on a 12 hour fast and contacted an hour after pre-op with my surgery address and time. My fast started at 7pm the day before surgery and my surgery time wa at 6:30a, there was a $300 for showing up to surgery late. All I could bring to surgery was compression socks and a faja (that I didn’t have), I was instructed to bathe with dial (the orange one) before surgery to make sure my incisions weren’t infected, no lotion, perfume, deodorant, makeup, nails, lashes, no jewelry/piercing or hair products and no personals ie, purse money, wallet also you will need a companion or surgery will be cancelled. I’ll upload all my paperwork at the end. Surgery day arrive at the surgery center at 6:15 am how about the entire fucking staff was late! Bitch I was outside in Miami alone with compression socks on and a moo moo, LIVID. No one arrived until 7:10 am, baby I wanted to kill everyone but fuck it, it was go time. I’m escorted to a room, changed into a paper gown, piss tested, my labs were reviewed again and finally my surgeon comes in! We were in the exam room alone which was weird cause I was asshole naked but he kept it 1000% professional, he asked me what I wanted and I say “the fattest ass” he looked me dead in my eyes without a single hesitation and said “it’ll heal like a diaper” LMAO. I showed him areas that I wanted lipo’d to death and he marked me up, I didn’t aka e picture of my mark ups but shit was rolling by then, he walked out I put my paper gown back on and the anesthesiologist walked in. I expressed my biggest concerns to him, I didn’t want to die and I didn’t want to wake up during surgery. He explain why the drug test was so important because certain street drugs will have adverse effect with the anesthesia. My anesthesiologist walked me up to the surgery room and I hopped on the table, they put massage boots on both of my feet and inserted an iv, the mask was put on my face and my heart rate went to heaven, I wanted to shit myself bro. The anesthesiologist told me to make a tight fist, I asked what time it was, 8:08am.. I woke up to a nurse helping me into a wheelchair with a binder around my waist and I was scream crying because my entire body ached, I didn't know where I was and the anesthesia is no hoe. I was escorted to my recovery house’s transportation van and taken to my damn bed.

I chose Flawlesss Recovery House with Ms. Opal. I paid a $200 deposit before 2 weeks before surgery and the balance the day I left. I opted for a 5 day stay. I loved it there bro and couldn’t imagine trying to recover at a hotel or air bnb! There were nurses there 24-7, I was roomed with one other girl but the house had a total of 4 bedrooms, one of which no one occupied and the door was always shut but my room was the only room with 2 beds, the others had 3 beds. I had a call button, it was love, the nurses came expeditiously when I rang it. They made 3 home cooked meals per day and I don’t eat meat, they accommodated me with no hesitation. I loved it man. So couple hours after surgery I attempted to use the bathroom on my own and blacked out, the anesthesia is really fucking strong and took an entire day to wear off (for me), the nurses helped me pee in a cup until then. Post op day 9/21/21, I went in to make sure I looked good, got a faja finally and received that lousy as drain. Back to the recovery house I was able to walk finally w/o passing out and in went my foams, I also could pee by myself with the use of a urinal. I was constipated for 2 days, first bowel movement was on post op day 2. I paid for an independent massage therapist named Tatiana, she used a ultrasound machine to massage me so I cancelled her. When I took my faja off for my massage it was washed and dried by the time I was done, I took a shower and put my faja on with my foams. I cancelled Tatiana because don’t let nobody use no machine on you until you are at least 2 weeks post op, hand massages only. All the girls were getting massaged by the literal best massage therapist (in my opinion) her name is Brittany, I could cry she was EVERYTHING, I was tender but she put the painful massage theory to bed! She taught me how to drain myself and how to open my incisions without the q-tip looking thing. In 45 mins she drained 5 of those doggy pad things worth of fluid off of me. I received 4 massages in 5 days. I left on Saturday 9/25/2021 on Sunday, back in Atlanta, I received my 5th massage and that when I was told I have not one but 2 seromas. I swear on everything I love it was because everyone wakes up from surgery with a faja on but not me (Fuck you Ellie, lil bitch) I had on a binder (its what they use for tummy tucks). The lady who did my 1st massage in Atlanta was Bri, not gone post her ig cause she did a damn good massage but when I asked her to syringe drain me the good sis stuck this long ass needle in my seroma but could get the fluid out, cancelled her too (the massage was good asf tho but nah). Tired and tried I bit the bullet and booked a packed with Dream Body ($455 for 5 massage, I think, don’t quote me look it up on there site and follow them on ig) because they are the biggest name in Atlanta, Jayda Wayda goes to them. The most painful massage yet, yes Michelle lil ass is so strong but she will get the fluid up off you. She made me tear up bad and no matter how much I screamed or even tried to push her off of me she understood the assignment, Michelle helped me get back into my faja after my massage and told me my faja was too big and to have it altered. She recommended a lady on ig @siri2sir but to know me is to know I altered my shit myself. Allow me to tell y'all, I look good asf!!!!!!! 10/4/2021

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eldritchteaparty · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 4/? Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares

General summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: Jon and Martin head back to the Magnus Institute, where Martin goes on an interview outing with Tim and Jon starts to catch up with Sasha’s “statements.”

Chapter 4 of my post-canon fix-it is up! Read above at AO3 or here below.

Tumblr master post with links to earlier chapters

***

Shortly after Martin’s phone flickered to life, he found a lot of messages waiting for him—and they were almost all from the same person.

Are you ok?

Message soon please.

Do you need anything?

Answer when you can.

Still worried…

He glanced at Jon, sitting on the other side of the bed and looking through his own phone.

“Sasha been messaging you too?” Martin asked him.

“Yes. And I’ve got one from Tim.”

Martin had that one also. “Telling you to answer Sasha?”

“Yes—and calling me something I won’t repeat.”

Ok, so he didn’t have exactly that one.

“All right,” Martin said a few minutes later. “Let’s do this, then. I’ll message Sasha back.”

“Wait—what are we doing? What’s the plan?”

He typed out a simple message to Sasha telling her they were ok and he was sorry for not answering sooner. “We lie to them.”

“Hm.” Jon seemed uneasy.

“Did you… want to tell them the truth?”

“Well…” Jon thought. “Obviously, we can’t. I’m just concerned that—”

“Exactly. And even if we did tell it to them, they wouldn’t believe it.”

Jon still looked doubtful. “Martin, I’m not sure if I—”

“Look, sometimes there are good reasons to lie. We just need to keep it simple, make sure it doesn’t get out of hand.” He read the message one more time and hit send. “Anyway, don’t act like you don’t know how. You’re actually quite good at it when you want to be.”

He didn’t mean to add that last part; it just came out, and it came out bitter. He looked at Jon again and regretted it immediately. He had come to realize he much preferred Jon’s anger to his sadness, especially when he was the cause. He opened his mouth to apologize, but as he did his phone began to buzz. They stared at each other.

“Jon, I didn’t mean that. I’m—I’m sorry—forget it, ok? I have to—hang on.”

He answered Sasha’s call on speaker, turning away to concentrate.

“Hey, Sasha.”

“Martin? Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t answer you sooner. It’s been—”

“How is Jon, do you know?”

“Yes, he’s—he’s with me. We’re both ok.”

“Oh, thank god.” Her relief was clear, even over the speaker, and Martin felt a pang of something in his gut. He hadn’t had a moment to consider how much he’d missed Sasha, how unfair it had all been, and how much it felt like she’d somehow come back. It would have been so easy to think that way—except their Sasha was still dead, and he may very well have been responsible for the death of the person she thought she was talking to.

“You do sound better,” she continued. “Look, I really didn’t want to tell you what to do, but—tell me you went to a doctor or something?”

Martin cleared his throat, aware Jon was listening to the conversation. “We did, actually. We did end up going to the hospital. I think we were maybe in a bit of shock after all.”

“No kidding. What happened? What did they say?”

“Physically, we’re—we’re all right.” He thought about all the blood again, and decided he should add a little more. “I mean, we were very dehydrated. They put us on a drip for a bit. And—and antibiotics, just in case. But they said we’re healing well, I guess?”

“That—that’s good. What else? What about—not physically?”

“Well, they did a lot of tests. The kind where they asked a bunch of questions. They didn’t want to call it amnesia, exactly, but we’ve—we’ve got some memory loss.” Experience told him the less specific the lie, the better. “Neither of us really remembers what happened. And it’s possible… we might have forgotten some stuff from before, too. We don’t really know how bad it is yet.”

“Oh. That’s terrible.”

Martin looked over his shoulder at Jon, who had crept closer to hear better. He nodded, and Martin turned back.

“It’s not great, but the good news is they don’t think there are any deeper issues. I mean, they’ve got us signed up for all kinds of therapy, but they don’t think there’s any—how did they say it—no lasting cognitive impairment.” Cognitive impairment was a phrase that maybe came to him too easily after caring for his mother; he felt like he was maybe pushing it a little.

“Well, that part’s good. How are you feeling, though?” Sasha asked.

“A lot better.”

“Did they feed you? Do you need anything? Can I bring you something?”

“No, that’s all right. We’re—actually, Sasha, we were wondering if we could… maybe come back. To work.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, and Martin cringed and held his breath through it; he didn’t look at Jon. He might have gone for it too soon.

“You want to come back? Already?”

He exhaled quietly, away from the phone so Sasha couldn’t hear it. “They said the more we could normalize things, it might—help? I mean, I know there might be some issues rehiring us—but maybe if Elias hasn’t replaced us yet—"

“No, I mean—you know Elias, he hasn’t even taken you off payroll. It just seems… fast. Are you sure you want to?”

“Well, if you’re worried, we don’t have to come back right away.” Jon grabbed his arm and Martin frowned at him, shrugging him off. Wait, he mouthed. “I know we might not be up to our usual workload, and we’re going to have to take some time off for therapy and all… I’m really only bringing it up because they thought it would help, but it’s completely fair if you don’t want to take—”

“No! No, I don’t mind.” She sounded upset, and he felt bad. “That’s not it at all. And we could use your help, honestly, but I really don’t want to put pressure on you while you’re recovering. Do you promise you’ll let me know if it’s too much?”

“Yes,” Martin answered. “Yes, of course. Jon too.”

“Well…” said Sasha, “When are you thinking about coming in?”

Um… hang on.” He muted himself and turned to Jon.

“What do you think?” Then, before Jon answered, he added, “And do not say today. It’s already after 2 pm and that would just be weird.”

“Fine. Tomorrow, then.” Of course. He sighed.

“Sasha?” He said, unmuting the phone. “Jon says—Jon says tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Really?”

“Yeah. Yeah, actually. If you’re all right with it.”

There was more silence.

“And I mean Sasha, I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t mind being around people. It would be nice.” That wasn’t even a lie.

“Ok. Sure, Martin.” It had done the trick. “Take your time getting in though, ok? And get some sleep tonight.”

“Will do. Thanks, Sasha.” He hung up, and turned his head slightly in Jon’s direction. “Happy?”

“Thank you,” Jon answered, putting an arm around Martin to press his mouth briefly to his cheek. Martin couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, all right. Just don’t exhaust yourself. Remember, you’ve got to eat real food and sleep real sleep now.”

“Mm.” Jon was already headed out to the sitting room where his desk was.

“What did I say, Jon?” he shouted.

“Eat and sleep,” Jon shouted back.

Martin grumbled to himself.

The rest of the day was spent washing the one set of clothes that he had, and going through the phone to learn what he could about his current situation. His passwords and fingerprints opened all the apps, but that didn’t faze him anymore. He was able to figure out from email and voicemails that the apartment building where this world’s Martin had been living had indeed kicked him out, but thankfully his belongings were being held in storage. He could pay two months of back rent and a late fee if he wanted to reclaim them, although it wouldn’t be until the following week.

Fortunately, Sasha had been correct that they hadn’t been taken off payroll—not only had they not been taken off, but Martin had been paid his full salary for the last two months. If he hadn’t already been convinced that Jonah Magnus was not running the institute, that certainly did it.

***

Although he didn’t successfully get Jon off the computer for it, he did manage to get him to eat most of a meal that evening at his desk. And while Jon didn’t get in bed at the same time he did, Martin was still up to hear him come in.

“Hey.”

“Sorry,” Jon said softly. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, that’s all right. You didn’t. I actually—something’s been bothering me. I wanted to apologize for what I said right before Sasha called today. About… you. Lying. I mean, we need to talk about it—what happened—but not like that.”

“Martin…” Jon shifted under the covers. “I want to talk about it. I do. You deserve that. I’m just…”

“You’re not ready yet.”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll—I’ll try not to push,” Martin answered, closing his eyes again. “I want to do this right. Or at least better than we’ve been doing things. Just… you try too, ok?”

There was a moment of quiet before Jon answered. “Ok.”

***

Going back to the Magnus Institute in the morning already felt much easier than it had the first time. It didn’t hold the same sense of discontinuity—it felt less like déjà vu and more like returning to a place he had genuinely spent a lot of time. Rosie was away from her desk when they arrived; Sasha and Tim were in Sasha’s office with the door closed, and they could hear muffled conversation through the door. Jon sat at his desk, but Martin decided he’d wait for Sasha before he even pretended to do something, and sat on the sofa instead.

“So,” he asked Jon, “how are you feeling, now that you’re here?”

“Good, I suppose,” he answered. “Well, not bad, anyway. I’ll feel better once I can start looking through some of Sasha’s statements.”

“They’re not statements, Jon. I expect you’re going to be disappointed if—”

“I just meant that I’ll feel better once I have some understanding of…” He trailed off. “Why do I need a pin?”

“Hm?”

“My laptop. I need a pin.”

“Wait, didn’t you have one before?”

“No. Sasha kept telling me to set one, but…” Jon sighed. “This would be a lot easier if we could remember things about this place when we wanted to.”

A thought occurred to Martin, something they hadn’t talked about yet. “Are you going to be all right, Jon? With Sasha being the archivist here?”

“She’s not the Archivist. There is no Archivist here. Not even me, right now.” Martin could hear him typing, trying different combinations of numbers, and could also hear his frustration growing.

“Hang on, let me try a couple things before you go getting all worked up.” He got up and went to join Jon at his desk. “And no, you’re right, of course—I just meant, are you ok with her being the head archivist here? At the Institute?”

“I don’t care.” Jon leaned back from his desk so Martin could reach the number keys. “Wait—is that the sofa that Tim brought in when—”

“Yes, it is. And it was a good idea.” The pin would have to be something Jon would easily remember, and knowing Jon, probably also too easy for someone else to guess. He tried Jon’s birthday; it didn’t work. He tried the street number of Jon’s flat, and that didn’t work either. “Hmm…”

“Well, I suppose professionalism isn’t as important when your entire area of research is—”

“Jon, hush.” Last four of Jon’s phone number?... Nope. He stared down at the keys and a wild thought entered his head. No reason he couldn’t try it, though. He typed the four-digit combination and was surprised to find that it worked.

“Oh.” Jon leaned forward. “What did you type?”

“I don’t know,” Martin lied. “I was just trying things. I don’t remember what I did.”

“Well, how am I supposed to get back in next time?”

“You’re going to have to change it.”

“I don’t want to change it.”

“Sasha’s going to make you change it.”

“How is Sasha going to know that—”

“Because I just saw Martin type it in for you,” Sasha said from the door of her office, smiling.

“Hey, Sasha.” Martin let himself smile in return—it was easy, if he forgot the last four years of his life. “Thanks again for letting us come in today.”

“Honestly, I’m already wondering if it was a mistake. I told you to take your time and really, it’s first thing in the morning.”

“Well, Jon just couldn’t wait to get back,” he said, reflexively rubbing the back of his neck. “He—hang on.”

He snatched the mouse away from Jon and clicked through to the screen where he could change his pin, while Jon did his best to appear extremely inconvenienced. “Oh, stop. Type the new one, I’m not looking.”

Jon grudgingly did as Martin instructed.

“So why were you so eager to come back, Jon?” Sasha asked.

“Oh.” Jon cleared his throat. “I, um…”

Martin interceded. “He’s actually been very concerned about—about the things you said have been happening here since we were gone.”

“I wondered if that was it. I’ve been thinking about that myself,” Sasha said. “I know you don’t remember anything, but the timing was just so… Jon, I know you’ve always been a skeptic—”

“And I still am. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for everything.” Martin thought maybe Jon would catch on after all. “But it would be quite the coincidence if it were unrelated. I was actually wondering if I might review some of the notes you took during your—interviews.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Sasha replied. “To be honest, I haven’t the slightest idea what to do with them. They aren’t exactly typical archive material. Maybe you can help me—”

“Morning, everyone.” Tim cheerfully disrupted the conversation as he slipped into the room behind Sasha. “How are we all feeling?”

“All right,” Martin answered, when no one else did.

“Great. Especially coming from you, Martin, because we are going on an adventure today.” Tim made his way to his desk and picked through a few papers.

“Oh?” Martin looked at Sasha.

“What Tim means is that if you are up for it, there were a few people who contacted us but couldn’t come in, and we haven’t had a chance to get back to them. I haven’t felt comfortable sending Tim to interview people alone, and well—it’s not really our job, and I’ve got more than enough actual work to take care of since—well, we’ve gotten a bit backed up.”

“What do you think, Martin?” Tim asked, waving the papers toward him. “Up for it?”

“Oh, well, I—I guess I could, yeah.” He glanced at Jon, who was suddenly sitting up very straight in his chair.

“Martin, I—are you sure?”

“I think so,” Martin replied.

“I’m just thinking that if something were to happen…”

“What—what sort of thing?”

“Yeah Jon, what sort of thing?” Tim echoed. They both turned to look at him and found him with a curious look on his face. “Oh look, if you two need to consult about this, please go ahead. Don’t mind me.”

“Yes, thank you, Tim.” Jon spoke through gritted teeth, indicating the sarcasm hadn’t escaped him. “Martin, just—come talk to me.” He stood up and took Martin by the arm, leading him out into the reception area and closing the door—but not before Martin saw Tim bite back a grin.

“Jon, what—”

“Martin, we have no idea what’s going on, or who or what could be out there, or—”

“Do you want Tim to go by himself?”

“Well—no, but—”

“Look.” He took Jon by the arm now. “I know we haven’t been apart since—well, not for a long time. And I know every time we have been apart, it’s been bad. But things are different now. This is different. You’ll be all right here with Sasha, and I’ll be with Tim and—”

“And with anything else that’s shown up since we got here. And if something happened, I—” Jon stopped and looked toward the floor. “I wouldn’t know about it.”

“Yeah, well, welcome back to being a normal person.” He squeezed Jon’s arm. “Look, if you’re really worried, I’ll come up with some excuse. But Jon, we’ve got to—we’ve got to try and be functional here. Plus, if you really want to figure out where things are—if you’re here going through the interviews, doesn’t it help for me to be out there? Talking to people? You know—like I used to do for you by myself all the time?”

Jon pressed a hand to his own mouth, thinking.

“Jon, I’ve got my phone.”

“Technically you had your phone when you went to look for Jane Prentiss.”

“Ok, I see why that’s not that reassuring, but do you realize how long it took for Jane Prentiss to—become what she was? And I will be with Tim, and—”

“Yes, you’ll be with Tim. Great.”

“Jon.” Martin sighed. “He’s just concerned. Ok, what if I—what if I look through the contact forms before I leave? Make sure I don’t recognize any names on them? Like—no bad names?”

“We don’t even know if it works like that.” Jon thought for another minute, but Martin could see his resistance starting to come down. “Look, I don’t want to… maybe I am being overprotective.”

“You think?” It didn’t really bother him to hear Jon say it; in fact, he got a bit soft knowing Jon felt that way, but it wasn’t going to help the situation to admit it.

Jon finally gave in. “All right. Do look at the names though—and if anything happens—”

“I’ll let you know right away. I won’t do anything dumb.”

“I know. Martin, I—” Jon looked up at him again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He leaned down for a quick kiss, which Jon returned. “I’ll be fine, ok?”

Jon nodded, reluctant.

***

Despite another look from Tim, Martin did check the names as promised; there were only three for that day, and he didn’t recognize any of them. By the time they left, the thought of spending time alone with Tim made him more nervous than their actual task. He imagined that as soon as they were out the door, Tim would start peppering him with questions about where he and Jon had been, what had happened between them, or both.

As it turned out, though, their time together was quite enjoyable. Martin had forgotten how easy it was to be around Tim—that he had that thing he could do that just made everyone comfortable when he wanted to. They took the tube out to a suburb, and on the way, they talked about the weather a little bit. They talked about a new café that had moved in down the street a few weeks ago; Tim said it was all right for an occasional something different, but nothing special. They talked about what Tim had been up to in his free time. As it turned out, his brother Danny was getting married soon to a girl Tim absolutely adored. Martin suddenly remembered when Danny had come into town and visited Tim at work one day a few years ago, and he’d been amazed by how similar the two of them had been when they stood side by side.

I’ve met Danny Stoker. The urge to smile hitting alongside that awful catch in his throat was becoming a strangely familiar feeling.

Their first interview was with an older woman in her home. She had gotten in touch with the Institute after receiving their information through a friend of a friend, who’d heard a story from yet another friend. Martin really thought there wasn’t anything to it. Well, he supposed it was possible there was a ghost living in her television set that just happened to have moved in after her daughter had tried to help her set up a new voice assistant—but in all fairness, it seemed unlikely. The second interview was equally unimpressive.

Once they finished up, Tim made a phone call to their third interview subject, and announced they were headed back to central London. The man didn’t want to meet at home, but he was willing to meet them somewhere public; Tim arranged to meet him at a deli not far from the Institute. The ride back was pleasant enough, if a bit quieter.

“It’s getting late,” Tim said, after glancing at his phone. “We have time to eat first, if you’re up for it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Martin was pretty hungry again by the time they sat down with their food. He supposed he’d missed being able to enjoy food, but having to eat multiple times a day was sort of annoying when it came down to it. He was just wondering if he should send Jon a reminder to eat, when he realized Tim was staring at him; he hadn’t touched his sandwich yet.

“Everything ok?” he asked.

“What happened?” Tim asked. “To you and Jon.”

“Oh, I—” Martin swallowed the bite in his mouth. “I assumed Sasha told you. We don’t—”

“Don’t remember.” Tim cut him off. “Really, though? Like—nothing?”

Well, here goes. “Really. Nothing.”

Tim regarded him thoughtfully. “We looked for you. Me and Sasha, we looked everywhere, for weeks. Well, everywhere we could think of.”

“Tim, I’m—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” That was the truth. In fact, he was sorrier than he was going to be able to explain.

“Sasha took it really hard, you know?” Tim said. “I mean, you were at work when it happened. She felt responsible. Like it was her fault.”

That sounded familiar.

“It wasn’t,” Martin replied. “It wasn’t her fault. It had nothing to do with her.”

“I told her that. Every day. I don’t think it made any difference, though. And I’m sure it hasn’t really sunk in yet that you’re back.” Tim picked a small piece of crust from his sandwich bread and chewed it carefully before swallowing. “I mean, it almost seems impossible, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were gone for two months, you left no sign of what had happened or where you were—and then you just show up again one day, making out on the landscape, covered in your own blood.”

“We were not making out,” Martin snapped.

“You were too,” Tim answered. “What’s that about, anyway?”

Martin didn’t answer him.

“Look, I have no idea what happened, but… I’ll admit, I’ve always wondered if you maybe had a thing for him. I mean, the man’s always been a bit of a wreck, and I’ve watched you defend him and try to take care of him ever since we all started working together. And it’s not like you got along that well, but I know you and it just seems like the kind of thing you’d go for. But I never thought—”

“You really don’t like Jon, do you?”

“What? No, I like him just fine. You know that. But I like him for who he is, and this just seems like… it seems like a lot after two months.”

“Tim, it’s complicated, and I don’t know how to explain it. You don’t—you don’t know what we’ve been through. What he’s been through, or what he’s—”

“I thought you didn’t either.”

Martin’s heart skipped, and then beat double to make up for it. “I just meant—look, I don’t know what happened, but I—I feel things I can’t explain. And I can say that it feels like it’s been a lot longer than two months since—since we disappeared.”

“Is that so?” Tim asked. “Just tell me. Do you not remember, or do you actually not remember?”

“I—I really don’t remember.”

“Why did it sound like there were quotes around that?”

“There weren’t.”

“Right.” Tim said. “Well in that case, I ‘believe you’”—he paused to make large air quotes— “and I ‘definitely won’t keep asking.’”

“Tim—”

“It’s fine,” Tim said as he finally took a large bite of his sandwich, then continued with his mouth full. “Whatever happened, I am glad you’re back—and whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here.”

As hungry as he was when he’d sat down, Martin couldn’t touch the rest of his sandwich. He kind of resented the way Tim was able to keep eating. Tim had always been that way though, hadn’t he? Able to say what he thought without worrying about the consequences. It had taken on a different flavor after he’d found himself trapped at the Institute, of course, but even then, he’d stood up to Elias without any fear of what might happen. Even when he’d died, he’d gone out the way he’d wanted too—no regrets.

Martin wanted so badly to tell him the truth in that moment. Instead, he sat in silence and watched him eat.

A short time later, Tim grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth. “I think that’s him. Our interview. Yellow shirt, black jacket.” He raised a hand toward someone coming through the door behind Martin.

“What was the name again?” Martin asked as he turned around.

“Hang on—” Tim pulled out one of the contact forms. “Here we go. Antonio Blake.”

Wait. Wait, there was something familiar about that name—shit. He’d thought about it too quickly that morning. He’d completely forgotten about the alias.

Jon is going to lose it when I have to tell him this.

“You’re—you’re Oliver Banks,” he said to the man now standing directly in front of him.

Oliver looked suspiciously from him to Tim and back again. “I didn’t—how did you know that?”

“I—don’t know. It just came to me.” Given what Oliver had to be going through, maybe there was half a chance he would find that plausible.

Tim gave him a look. “You know him?”

“Not—not really. Please, sit.”

Oliver continued to hesitate. “I’m not sure I want to.”

“Look—I am sorry, I didn’t mean to—I’m Martin Blackwood, from the Magnus Institute. This is Tim Stoker.”

Tim stood up and offered his hand in that easy, open manner he had, and Oliver tenuously accepted it.

“Please,” Martin said. “Whatever you have to say—we’d like to hear it. It might be important. Maybe we could… help.”

He didn’t feel great about himself for adding that last part.

Oliver slowly pulled out the third chair at the table and sat down. Martin didn’t know what he’d expected him to be like, but somehow this wasn’t it. He felt sad for this man. He looked so tired, but at the same time so ready to run. He reminded Martin a bit of Jon, actually, during the year after Jane Prentiss had come to the institute and before they’d realized that Sasha had been murdered. He supposed that made a lot of sense, the more he thought about it.

Tim spoke again. “You didn’t leave a lot of detail in your message, so—do you want to just walk us through what happened to you?”

“Well…” Oliver looked from one to the other of them again. “I’m really not sure you’ll believe me. To tell the truth, I’m not sure anymore that I’m not going crazy. I’ve—I’ve not been sleeping much, and it’s…” he trailed off.

“You don’t want to sleep because you’re afraid you’ll dream again.”

Oliver re-focused on Martin. “How do you keep—”

“It’s all right.” Martin said. “I just want you to know that I’ll believe you. If you want to tell us.”

They sat in silence for several minutes. Martin didn’t want to say anything that might send Oliver back out the door, and Tim followed his lead. Finally, Oliver spoke, quietly enough that it took some effort to hear him.

“It was a dream. Or it started with a dream. The first time, I dreamed that I was walking near Canary Wharf—I used to have a job there years ago, and—well, I don’t need to get into that, do I… The point is, I know the area. There were people around me, people I don’t actually know, like happens in a dream, but they all had these—I don’t know—tendrils.” He paused and made a motion with his hands, like he was holding something heavy. “I don’t really have another word for it. Like snakes, almost, but not alive like snakes. Just tendrils, everywhere, and they went through these people—like their hearts, or their heads, or around them somewhere. I really didn’t like it, you know, but also I think I knew I was dreaming. Everything was sort of pulsing and—and I was trying to ignore all of it, but when I headed home in the dream… Well, it was my landlady. She had lots of them, like black veins, running into her chest, or her lungs, really, somehow I knew it was her lungs. I woke up not long after that.”

Martin tried to keep his expression neutral. This was so much like the statement Oliver had made years ago in their world, to Gertrude, but it was also so different. Most obviously, it wasn’t a statement at all, it was just Oliver talking. That made sense. There was no Archivist here, either with them or in general, which Jon had so intently pointed out that morning. The words weren’t just pulled out like Martin was used to, thank god. And certainly, the people Oliver had first dreamed of in their world would have passed years earlier. The basic story, though, was the same.

“OK.” Tim nodded, scratching down some notes. “But I assume there’s more?”

“Well, the thing is—not even two weeks later, she—she died. Lung cancer. It was sudden. Undiagnosed. I’d almost forgotten about the dream, to be honest, but that… it shook me.”

“Understandable.” Tim nodded again. “So you think your dream was a—a warning?”

“Well, I mean—of course I was sort of struck by it, that day, but after a little time, it didn’t seem like such a big thing. She smoked her whole life. I know sometimes people know things they aren’t really conscious of, and maybe I just—knew she was sick. But then… it happened again. A man at the bakery near the shop where I work now. I barely knew him. It was his heart. And I—I dreamed it again. The whole thing. A week before it happened. And I just started wondering if—if every person I see in that dream…”

Tim frowned and looked toward Martin, which prompted Oliver to do the same.

“What do I do?” Oliver asked, and Martin swore a shiver ran through him—maybe it was from nerves or too much coffee or not enough sleep, or maybe all three. “I thought maybe you would—know something about this. Maybe you’ve heard of it before. Do you think—do you think I could help them? If I found them, if I talked to them—”

“No,” Martin answered. “I mean, I have heard of it before, and… no. You can’t help them. I’m—I’m sorry.”

Oliver worried at his lip. “I’m not—I’m not causing it somehow, am I? I was thinking that maybe—if I keep trying to stay awake—”

“No.” Martin shook his head. “No, you’re not causing it. You—you should know it’s not your fault. And if you sleep, or if you don’t sleep—they’ll still… they’ll still die.”

Oliver nodded his head, digesting the information. “So I can’t do anything. I just get to know they’re going to die, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“I’m sorry.” Martin wondered what he would have said if he’d had time to think about it. Would it have been any different? Would he have thought of something better to say, something that didn’t fall so flat the moment it left his mouth, something that could have actually helped?

Would Jon have said something better?

“All right,” Oliver replied softly, bringing Martin back from his thoughts as he stood up from his chair. “Thank you for listening. I—I think I’m going to go.”

“If you need anything—if we can help—you know where to find us.”

Martin wasn’t sure if Oliver even heard him.

“What the hell was that?” Tim asked loudly, once Oliver was out of sight.

“Nothing,” Martin answered.

“That wasn’t nothing. You knew that man. You knew what he was going to say.” Tim pointed at the door, waving his finger for emphasis. “And then you…”

“Tim, I can’t explain it right now.”

He turned his finger on Martin. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like this.”

“I’m sorry. I wish—” His phone, which he had set on the table, buzzed at him. It was a message from Jon, asking if everything was ok. “Let’s go back now, all right?”

Tim shook his head in disbelief. They didn’t speak on the walk back.

***

Jon jerked up from his desk when they walked in, which was now covered in numerous hand-written notes and manilla folders. Martin suspected he’d maybe been taking an unintentional nap. “How did it go?”

“Fine,” Martin answered. “Did you eat?”

“Not—not yet.”

“Here,” Martin said, tossing the rest of his sandwich onto Jon’s desk. “I didn’t finish it.”

“Oh.” Jon peeked under the wrapper. “You barely ate this at all. Are you sure you don’t—”

“Yes.”

“All right, well—thank you.” Jon took a quick bite and set it aside as he resumed reading.

“Well?” Tim said.

Martin ignored him.

“Are you going to tell him about your friend?”

“What friend?” Jon asked, eyes still on the paper in front of him.

“I didn’t catch his name, actually,” Tim replied. “But I do know it wasn’t”—he pulled out the now-crumpled contact form— “Antonio Blake.”

“What?” Jon immediately stopped what he was doing.

“Jon—”

“You saw Oliver Banks.”

“Oliver Banks.” Tim deliberately overpronounced the name. “That’s right. Thank you, Jon.”

“Tim—”

“How could you miss that?” Jon stood up.

“It was fine! Nothing happened. I would have—”

Jon didn’t even need to speak to cut him off; the look in his eyes was enough. “We need to talk.”

“Please,” Tim cut in. “One of you talk, at least.”

“In private. Come on,” Jon said, once again taking Martin by the arm. Rosie was back at her desk now, but Sasha had temporarily stepped out, and they spoke in her office with hushed voices, without bothering to turn the light on.

“Jon, it really was fine, I—”

“Stop.” Jon reached up to take Martin’s face in his hands. “It’s ok. I just want to know what happened.”

“Nothing, really. He—he’s had a couple dreams, that’s all. He wanted to talk about it. He wanted to know if there was anything he could do to—to help them. I told him he couldn’t. I felt bad for him.”

Jon closed his eyes and breathed out, then opened them to look at Martin again.

“Jon, I don’t see what the big deal is. I mean, what does he even do? He sees people’s deaths, and wakes up other people’s”—he paused— “Archivists.”

“It’s not funny. Or that simple.” Jon let go and turned to face the wall. “Martin what if—what if he had seen your death?”

“Well then—at least I’d know? I guess?”

“Or what if he’d seen Tim’s? Or—or mine?”

Martin could sort of see Jon’s point then—but only sort of. “Ok, but—I still think we weren’t really in any danger. Yes, I messed up, and I should have caught that, but—”

“It’s too dangerous,” Jon interrupted. “You can’t do this again without me. And—and neither can Tim.”

“Oh really,” Martin responded. “And why do you—”

“It’s not just Oliver,” Jon broke in again. “I found some things in the—in the interviews Sasha did. Do you remember the thing we called the Anglerfish?”

“Yes?”

“And do you remember Laura Popham?”

“Um—”

“She went caving with her sister and—”

“Oh, right. Lost John’s Cave.”

“They’ve… they were in there, in the interviews. Already. In just two months.”

Martin was starting to understand Jon’s reaction.

“And I was hoping it was just those sorts of things,” Jon continued, “and no… avatars, but if Oliver Banks is already connected to the End—”

“I see.” Martin stepped closer to Jon to put an arm over his shoulder. “All right, I get it. Things are happening fast.”

“Well… most things.” Jon sounded a little offput.

“Wait.” Martin almost laughed, but not because he found it funny. “Wait, are you upset because you aren’t connected to the Eye yet?”

“Upset isn’t the right—”

“Now who’s jealous of Oliver Banks?”

“Technically that would be envy, not jealousy—”

“Technically yes, but that isn’t the—”

“—and I’m not,” Jon finished. “I just—I feel like I know it’s coming, and I’d like to get it over with.”

“Right.” Martin rolled his eyes, but only because Jon couldn’t see it in the dim office. “So what do we do now?”

“First, if there are more interviews to be done, they could be important, but… we do them together. You and me.”

“There are. And… if Sasha is ok with it.”

“And then I keep going through Sasha’s notes. And then I go back before that, just to—”

“Jon, you’re going to exhaust yourself.”

“Then I do.”

“No. It doesn’t do anyone any good if you—”

They were interrupted by Sasha’s voice.

“Jon? Martin?”

“Yes,” Jon answered. “Sorry, I needed to speak with Martin, so we borrowed your office.”

“That’s fine, but you didn’t need to do it in the dark,” she said, switching on the light. “So I was just talking to Tim, and it sounds like today was… eventful?”

“That’s not exactly what I said, but I suppose that’s the polite version.” Tim followed her into the office.

“Well, I have something to report, too.” Sasha sat down behind her desk. “I know I said I was going to get back on regular archive things today, but… well, let’s just say I got curious, and may have found a back door on the web to access certain matters of official police business.”

“Really?” Tim’s grin was back. “That almost sounds like someone’s misbehaving.”

“I’d feel bad about it, but let’s also say I wasn’t too pleased with the way a certain missing persons case was handled.”

“Good for you.”

“Thank you, Tim.” Sasha did seem very pleased with herself. “But that brings me to my next point. Tim, I know you have some… contacts at some of the local police stations who might be able to—supplement the information I’m getting? I could use your help with that.”

“Sure, boss,” Tim said. “And that should work perfectly, actually, because I believe Jon was just getting ready to forbid Martin from going on any more interviews with me.”

“That is not—” Jon started over. “I would like to go with Martin on any further interviews, if that’s agreeable.”

“I mean—that’s fine, and I certainly don’t want anyone going out alone,” Sasha answered, “but what about catching up with everything here? It seemed like you felt that was pretty important.”

“I’d like to keep doing that too. I might need to put in a few extra hours.”

Sasha sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that. Maybe? Let’s see how you’re doing next week.”

“Sasha, I’m—”

“—already worn out, and a very bad judge of your own health.” Martin nodded in agreement, and shrugged without sympathy when Jon glared at him. “For the rest of this week, if you come in, you’ll both stay here. Jon, you can keep going through my notes, and Martin—would you mind helping me catch up on some of the filing and patron requests? I don’t even want to think about how far behind we are. Those other interviews have waited this long, they’ll wait a few more days. Especially if Tim is able to help follow up with the police angle.”

“Of course,” Martin answered. Even if Jon didn’t think he needed to take it a little bit easy, Martin was more than willing to acknowledge his own limitations—and sometimes Jon’s, even if it wasn’t appreciated. “Oh, and Sasha—we’ve got therapy tomorrow morning, so we’ll probably be a little bit late.”

“Good,” Sasha replied. “And for now, don’t take any of those notes home, Jon.”

Jon stared daggers at Martin, but he didn’t regret it—especially not after Jon fell asleep on him on the couch during dinner a few hours later.

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