#my a.m thoughts are all over the place this’ll confuse me in the morning

[a-simple-imagine]

The Absence Of Field

Synopsis: You haven’t known her very long but she’s about change your life forever

Pairing: Dolores Abernathy x fem!reader

Words: 2k+

A/N - I’m obsessed with Season 3 dolores so I decided to write about her. I don’t really expect anyone to read this but yeah!! It’s based off season 3 episode 3 of Westworld and shall be continued as such. 

Warnings - Swearing, kidnapping, guns and minor violence

"How long do you think this will go on?"

"Which?"

"The rain?" Heavy rainfall descends from the cloudy dark sky, hitting the window in a symphony of sound. The digital clock that sits on your bedside reads 3:00 A.M. Her toned arms were wrapped around your waist, pulling you snug against her torso. Soft lips ghost the back of your neck bringing a flurry of beautiful butterflies to your stomach. It wasn't the first time and surely not the last. She had that effect on you; it had been that way since you first met. A sigh leaves your lips as you focus on one drop of rain as it travels down the glass. It had been raining a lot the last couple of days; you didn't mind though. You quite enjoy the rain.

"Expect showers all week," It's impossible not to notice her absence all of a sudden; it's almost like your sense of comfort had been dragged away. The blonde was perched on the edge of the bed; her back to you and head down when you roll over to see her. Your brows furrow for a moment as you notice how hard her hands press into the mattress. The energy in the room shifts with the harsh silence.

"What's wrong?" She turns to you for a moment and you can't help but smile. She's always so put together so it's always a pleasure to see her just out of bed. The messy hair is a particular favourite. Despite your short time together there were little things you had come to notice and enjoy about her presence.

"Do you like the world that was made for you?"

Such a question had a vastly complex answer. Did you like the world that was made for you? What made her ask such a thing? "The world wasn't made for me," you answer quietly, rolling onto your back to stare up at the ceiling. When you were little you used to wish there were stars up there, painted or otherwise. When you got older you considered it; it was hard to see the night sky with all the lights and pollution but decided against it. You were too old or perhaps just too embarrassed. You had never felt any real attachment to the world and why would you? You'd been alone most of your life. Fighting for every little thing you had. Sure this place had its positives but for the most part, it was dripping with greed and corruption. You weren't unhappy but you couldn't exactly say you were happy either. You've read books on how things used to be before technology became the centre of the world. It was apparently just as ugly and corrupt but at least they had real animals like elephants and tigers; more than just your typical house pets. "I don't think it matters if I like it or not, I didn't exactly get a choice in being born?"

"You have a choice now."

"I suppose," you shrug. "I've never really thought about it that way. Why do you wanna know? Are you gonna ask me about the meaning of life next?"

The last part had been a joke but perhaps it had been a step too far as the blonde doesn't reply. She simply gets up and proceeds to collect the few items she left so neatly on the dresser. Fuck, had you screwed this up already? It must be bad for her to leave abruptly at three in the morning. You push yourself up into a seated position, "Did I do something wrong?" The blonde doesn't answer again so you decide to follow her.

"Dolores," Her name galling from your lips brings her to a stop at the door; hand lingering on the ugly doorknob your landlord wouldn't let you change. you're just a few paces away, tired and confused. You just wanted to go back to bed but with her. "... please don't go."

So weak and pathetic, the words didn't sound like your own. You had never begged someone to stay before but there was just something about Dolores. Something that made her special and it wasn't her beauty although she had a very pretty face.

"You're a distraction that I don't need right now." Her voice was firm; surprisingly cold. The doorknob squeaks as she turns it and the door slowly opens. "I suggest you lay low for a while."

~~

It's no mystery as to why you can't stop thinking about Dolores. She left you in the middle of the night with no explanation. You may not know each other very well but you liked her and you liked spending time with her although admittedly that time had been short. What exactly had you done wrong? Was she scared off by your slightly pessimistic outlook on society? Perhaps it was something else entirely? Maybe she just didn't like you. It didn't seem that way when you were together but looks can be deceiving.

It was really cold this high up; it didn't help that this building didn't have four walls, so it was nothing but the cold wind blowing against you. The entire building was empty for construction, so other than the two men who had you cornered between the barrel of their guns and the concrete below, you were completely alone. You were putting on a brave face but you were absolutely terrified. Their questions drowned out by the loud thumping of your heart in your chest. You felt like you couldn't breathe. You were sweating under the intense pressure despite the goosebumps from the chilly air. It wasn't even possible to answer their questions and yet they insisted on repeating themselves; getting more worked up as they go along. The two of them had conveniently bumped into you on the way home from work. They showed you a picture and offered you money. You could have really used the money, your crappy apartment wasn't cheap but you had to deny the offer. It seemed shady. The ironic part is that the picture was of Dolores. They wanted to know where she was? You wish you knew but you didn't. She hadn't told you pretty much anything other than her name. She looked different in the picture but you couldn't quite place why? Perhaps it was the blue dress she wore or the fact she had her hair down and it was longer. Either way when you didn't comply they dragged you to their car and that's how you ended up here.

You had lost track of time but it felt like you had been here for hours.

"I really hope she's worth all this trouble." The talker of the men grumbles. He wore a black suit; they both did. With a sky blue tie. The other had a red tie. This was business for them; their job if you will. You wonder why they're after Dolores anyway. She's just one girl, what made her so important.

"Why are you protecting her?" The other man asks. "Just tell us where she is and this'll all be over."

Had you known the answer would you give her up? It was the way to save yourself but was in terms of morals was it the right choice. "I- I don't know what you're talking about,"

You could hear the fear in your voice despite the stiff upper lip. Denying you know the girl at all seemed like the best option here, it seemed they were gonna kill you either way.

"Have it your way," One of them utters, a gritty laugh following. "Don't say we didn't give you a chance though,"

"Where the fuck is she?" His voice was higher than his associates. He was also a lot angrier.

"I'm right here,"

BANG! BANG!

You flinch at the sound of the gun expecting the impact that never comes. Losing your footing on the edge, a hand slaps around your wrist before you can plummet to your death. You feel like you could throw up when you spin around and see Dolores. It was more because you almost fell off the edge of a building but seeing Dolores again made you feel warm inside too. A grin spreads over your insanely dry lips as you wrap your arms around the woman pulling her flush against you. "Dolores..."

After a moment she hugs back, her hand running soothingly over your back. "I need you to come with me,"

Dolores' hand slips down your back and into your hand as you unravel from her. Using your free hand to brush away the stray tears. "Where are we going?" You ask as you stumble trying to keep up with her; looking back to the two men who now lay lifeless on the floor. They were dead. Dolores killed them.

"I'm taking you home."

Staying true to her word, she places you on the bed when you finally arrive home. The car ride was silent. You couldn't figure out what was going on and Dolores didn't seem in any rush to explain anything. You're head throbs as you replay the events in your head. You almost died today: if it weren't for the blonde you'd be a stain on the concrete right about now. Dolores kneels down before you, drawing your attention. One hand gentle brushes over your thigh.

"Look at me," she commands but you keep staring off; struggling to focus on anything. "Y/N, look at me."

You oblige this time, meeting her soft blue eyes. She offers you a gentle smile. "I'm gonna pack you a bag and then we can go get you something to eat, okay?"

"I... I don't... understand." You mumble out slowly. The sun was beginning to show its face through the gap in your curtains, casting Dolores in an angelic warm glow.

"Tell me what's wrong,"

"My... my head hurts," you admit quietly, that was all you could get out.

"Any other pain?" You shake your head causing the throbbing to intensify; eyes scrunching up in response. Dolores places a calming hand against your cheek, her thumb brushing gently across your skin. "My sweet girl," Instinctively, you lean into her comforting touch. She was always so gentle towards you; a strong contrast to the woman who just stormed an empty building and shot two people. "You shouldn't have gotten involved."

Your mind wanders to the first time you ever met Dolores as she leaves you alone in the bedroom. It was at a party. One you were much too poor to be at but you were working that night. Dolores has been a guest but instead of ignoring you like everyone else had, she seemed to notice you were, in fact, a real person. She had warned you not to get involved with her and maybe you should have listened. You should have just gone back to your painfully average life but now it was too late. You were involuntarily apart of something so much bigger than yourself. The blonde returned to hand you some water and two pills. "For the headache."

Watching Dolores wander around your room, shoving stuff into a bag was... weird. None of this has felt real. It was like you were stuck in some kind of dream? Or a nightmare may be a better choice of words. She didn't pack a lot of things and it was only now dawning on you that she was packing for you. What was the plan here? Why did you need this stuff? "Come,"

Your eyes drift to her outstretched hand, nothing short of confusion written across your face. "Are you gonna tell me what's going on?" She doesn't answer. You take her hand, squeezing a little as she helps you to your feet. "Dolores, please? I'm not just gonna run away with you."

"They'll be looking for you now too," she explains, hiking the bag further up her shoulder. "If you stay they'll kill you."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter who," with a heavy sigh, she hesitates before connecting your lips but only for a second in a surprisingly passionate embrace. You too surprised to even say anything and you think she knew that would be the case. "I need you to trust me."

NEXT

#dolores abernathy #Westworld #evan rachel wood #Dolores abernathy x reader #dolores x reader #westworld fanfiction

[sunbites]

girl help peachy and evergreen by cavetown are hitting a lil too close to home at 3 am

#unpopular (?) opinion but his older albums are actually Really Good #I don’t really know how to explain it but it’s a lot more raw #just;;; ouch #my a.m thoughts are all over the place this’ll confuse me in the morning #tw cavetown

[adorkablephil]

Fic: Obviously Because It’s Us

Title: Obviously Because It’s Us Rating: PG (for a bit of language) Word Count: 1.5K Summary: Obviously their wedding day would be like this... Tags: Established Relationship, Wedding, Fluff, Humor, Awkward Nerds Author’s Note: For @inkyhowlter, who requested “It's Dan and Phil's wedding day but like most events in their life, everything seems to go wrong. Much hilarity and fluff ensues!” I’m not sure if I achieved hilarity, but there is certainly humorous awkwardness. Additional thanks to the treehouse mailing list for their support!

Obviously Because It’s Us

Phil held his small video camera at arm’s length as he lay in bed, waving a hand cheerily and chirping, "Welcome to another Sleepless Night with Phil, night before the wedding edition!"

He looked at the phone on the bedside table, then amended, "Make that morning of the wedding edition, because it's 2 a.m. and I haven't been able to sleep a wink. I think it's because Dan's such a romantic he wanted to sleep separately the night before the ceremony, and I can't sleep without him here! So I thought I'd hang out with you guys for a while..."

Dan woke to the sight of Louise asleep on the other twin bed a few feet away. He didn't think he'd ever seen her without makeup before. She still looked beautiful, but almost not like herself. Like a Louise from another dimension.

She spoke without opening her eyes. "I'm going to tell everyone we slept together the night before your wedding." Then she cracked one eye open to look at him. "I heard you moving around and figured you were awake."

He was glad she'd agreed to stay with him last night. He'd wanted to sleep apart from Phil so that when they saw each other at the ceremony it would feel more dramatic, but then he'd found himself barraged by an attack of nerves. He was lucky to have someone as comforting as Louise standing up with him today. He doubted Phil would get much coddling from Martyn.

"I just thought of something," Dan mused, still lying in his bed. "Phil has his brother standing up with him, and I have my brother. Then Phil also has PJ, and I have you. Doesn't that seem sort of..."

Louise yawned hugely and indelicately, then suggested, "Like you're the bride in this scenario, with me as your Matron of Honor?"

Dan scowled.

"Worried everyone's going to be glancing between you and Phil during the ceremony, speculating about who tops?" She grinned at his scandalized expression.

Dan sputtered. That was sort of what he'd been thinking, though perhaps not in quite those words.

Louise sat up in bed and smoothed her hair, then waved an exquisitely manicured hand dismissively. "Oh, Dan, don't worry." She pushed the duvet aside and got out of the bed wearing pink silk pajamas. "We all stopped taking bets years ago."

She walked into the hotel room's bathroom, leaving Dan with a very red face and a rush of horror.

"Phil!" A hand was shaking his shoulder insistently. "Wake up, you moron!"

Phil rolled over and pulled the duvet over his head, grumbling, "Lemme sleep, Dan."

He heard a familiar chuckle, but not the one he was expecting. "Hearing you call me Dan is a bit disturbing, little brother. Especially when you're in bed. Speaking of which, why aren't you ready?"

Phil pulled the duvet down to look up to find Martyn standing in his bedroom.

Phil blinked, confused. "What?"

"I'm here to pick you up, doofus! Remember that whole wedding thing? The one you spent so many weeks planning? Remember how you were supposed to get up and shower and get dressed before PJ and I showed up so we'd have plenty of time?"

Phil sat up abruptly. "Oh shit! I must have slept through my alarm! I had a lot of trouble falling asleep."

Martyn faked a dreamy expression. "Little Philly swearing on his wedding day. This'll be a romantic story to tell my little nieces and nephews someday."

Phil pushed his annoying brother out of the way, tossed the duvet aside, and jumped to his feet, looking blearily around the room while still half-asleep. Then he remembered to grab his glasses off the bedside table and was at least able to see the room, even if his brain wasn't quite working at full speed yet.

"I found PJ sitting on your front steps, by the way. You're just lucky I have a key to your place. Otherwise you'd probably still be snoring peacefully in dreamland while Dan was waiting for you at the altar, thinking he'd been jilted."

"You didn't bring toothpaste?"

"Don't hotels always have toothpaste?"

"No, Dan, they don't. I can't believe with all the traveling you do you didn't think to bring toothpaste. Are you going to give Phil your first kiss as wedded husbands with that breath? He's going to make his funny bleggggh face, right there in front of everyone, you know."

"Jesus, Louise! It's not like I smell of rancid meat or something!"

"Daniel, my dear friend, I'm sorry to tell you this, but a man can't accurately smell his own breath. This is a case in point."

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do? I don't have any toothpaste! There's no shop in this hotel. Maybe there's a concierge I could call or something..."

Louise smiled smugly. "Luckily, you have a Matron of Honor instead of a Best Man. I will give you a moment to finally fully appreciate the reason we ladies always carry purses." She produced a small case from within her bag. "It's so we are prepared for any eventuality."

"You had toothpaste in your bag this whole time?" Dan demanded in disbelief. Louise just shrugged. "And yet you've been letting me freak out about it for 10 minutes?" He stared at her.

She shrugged again, then smiled. "You're cute when you're crazed." She patted him on the shoulder. "Now, there's a little toothbrush in there and a tube of toothpaste, so go help yourself." As Dan grabbed the case from her and turned to flee into the bathroom she called after him, "But if you use the toothbrush, for god's sake don't bother to give it back! I'll buy a new one!"

PJ lounged casually against the kitchen counter, his feet crossed at the ankle, mismatched socks barely visible between his dress shoes and the cuff of his trousers. He was playing with two action figures he'd found somewhere and paying little attention to the drama unfolding before him.

Martyn rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you spilled coffee on your jacket. The jacket you bought to wear to your actual wedding, Phil. You spilled coffee on your wedding jacket?"

"Well, I hadn't had my coffee yet!" Phil wailed.

"You spilled your coffee because you hadn't had your coffee?"

"Yes!" Phil flailed his arms helplessly, looking like a giant toddler about to burst into tears. He grabbed a tea towel and blotted the stain frantically, but he still smelled distinctly of caffeinated beverage.

He knew how much Dan loved coffee, but he probably didn't want to marry one.

"I'll wear the jacket from the BONCAs," he declared, then glanced nervously at Martyn and PJ to see how this idea would be received.

PJ held up a Captain America figurine and intoned in a deep voice, "I believe in you, Phil!"

Phil raced out of the room.

"What's the point in love or marriage when we're all just hurtling toward inevitable doom..."

Louise interrupted him again, for the fourth or fifth—possibly eighth—time. "Dan, if you don't get up off that carpet you're going to ruin the line of those trousers."

"Fuck!" This time it worked. Dan leapt off the floor faster than should have been physically possible for someone with his dismal level of fitness and peered down at his especially fine suit, asking Louise anxiously, "Do they still look okay?"

Phil arrived at the venue with Martyn and PJ, only to find that all their friends and family were already there, waiting, chatting amongst themselves and looking around in expectant confusion. He was slightly late due to the morning's series of disasters.

But where was Dan?

"Why does this always happen to me?" Dan grumbled. "Why do I always get the cab driver who has no idea where he's going?"

Louise patted Dan's knee and said comfortingly, "It doesn't always happen to you." Dan gave her a look and she smiled. "Just more often than it happens to everyone else."

Phil paced anxiously. The ceremony had been intended to start half an hour ago.

PJ looked up from his phone. "Louise says they're stuck in traffic."

Phil threw himself into a chair, simultaneously exhausted from his night of little sleep and filled with nervous energy. He jumped back up and began pacing again.

Finally standing at the altar, hoping he didn't stink of nervous sweat and dubiously-maintained London taxi, Dan gazed at Phil's beloved face ... then noticed what his soon-to-be-husband was wearing.

That wasn't the jacket they'd bought together for the wedding—it was the slightly glittery one Phil had worn to the BONCAs. It didn't exactly match his trousers.

He flicked his gaze questioningly back to Phil's anxious face and their eyes met.

Dan forgot about sweat and taxis and jackets and awards ceremonies and just smiled softly, and he saw Phil relax and respond with a sweet smile of his own.

It didn't matter how they got here. They were here now, and this was where they belonged. Obviously. The two of them, together. Nothing else mattered.

He took Phil's hand and they turned to face the celebrant.

#phanfiction #phanfic #phan #dan and phil #phan fluff #fluffy phan #wedding phan #wedding phanfic #myphanfic

[swtltlmrvlgrl]

Love and Let Love (Part 2)

Love and Let Love Masterlist

Warning/s: Angst (?), Break-up, Betrayal, A few fluff moments, Panic Attack, Language, Mention of death

A/N: Part 2 guys! So this turned out longer than I thought. A little trivia for you: I tried to incorporate the five stages of grief in this story. (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression then Acceptance) The first part had a tinge of denial there, now for this part, it’s anger. This part is kind of difficult, but I’ll be happy if you read to the end. I’m also excited to let you read the next parts (Probably 2 – 3 more parts)! I promise you they’re way better than this one! (Y/N = Your Name; L/N = Your Last Name)

Number of Words: 1,939

It suddenly became quiet. The rain stopped and the light from the street lamp turned dim. A voice breaks the silence.

“Hi.”

His voice sounds tired, it sounds as if he’d been running the whole day. You move your head up to acknowledge the man. And for the third time that day, you find yourself gazing at the familiar set of blue piercing eyes.

He is looking down at you, while holding an umbrella in his right hand.

Oh.

You realize that the rain didn’t really stop - he was sheltering you from the rain, and on the process he also covered a part of the street lamp. The two of you were just staring at each other, and in an attempt to break the awkward silence, he started to speak.

“I – I’m – uhm – I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.”

You blink – confused and uncertain.

What? Who in the right mind would introduce himself to a lady, crying in the middle of the park?

He clears his throat. “We’ve actually met - a while ago. Technically, we didn’t MEET. But we bumped into each other twice today.”

Annoying.

“Look. Uhm. Steve Rogers” you wipe the trail of tears on your face and gaze at the umbrella he’s holding. “I appreciate the gesture, but you can go now. Thanks.” You return to your position before he disturbed you - your body curled and cup your face in between your knees.

Your rudeness didn’t even make him budge. He remained standing there, planted like a tree in front of you.

He sighs.

He’s giving up.

But he isn’t.

You feel a cold metal touch your shoulders and your knees. He placed the umbrella on top of you and then proceeds to sitting beside you.

You’re too tired to move and look up at him again. But he has to leave – you want him to leave.  So putting a lot of effort to sound annoyed, you speak up. “What are you doing?”

Silence.

“Leave me alone.”

“Look. You’re crying and you’re clothes are wet from the rain in the middle of a PUBLIC park.” He paused. “You’re not in the mood for small talks, okay, I respect that. But I’m also not in the mood to leave you here. Alone. So whether you like it or not, I’m staying here. ”

Annoying.

You don’t even want to care anymore. “Whatever. Do what you want.”

Apparently, what Steve wants was to talk (Why are you not surprised?) For the first few minutes, he talked about his old neighbor who owns plenty of cats, and that sometimes the old lady would ask him to take off the cat fur all over her sweater. Then he talked about how weak he was as a kid.  He was so weak and frail that one doctor told his mother that he’d die at the age of ten. But then, a strange miracle happened, and his still living at this time at the age of 27.

He kept talking and talking, and most of the time you didn’t bother to listen. But one story caught your attention.

“I had a dog once, when I was a kid.” He starts. “Every day at exactly 6 o’clock, he would wake me up. My mom can’t... because she has work. You know, late nights and early mornings – I was usually left alone at home.” His voice sounded so lonely, it was sorrowful – it was longing. “One day, he didn’t wake me up. I looked at the clock, it was 10 a.m. and I was extremely late for school. I dashed out of my room and I was actually planning to scold him. But then, all the anger that I had disappeared when I saw him lying there a few steps from my bed room door – dead and motionle -  ”

You shoot your head up and your sudden movement cut him off. The umbrella covering you a while ago is now on the ground

“Name.” you demand, as you look intently into his eyes.

“What’s the dog’s name?” you said - suddenly aware of your abrupt movements, you take your eyes away from him.

Steve chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” You look at him.

He stops laughing, but you can still see how amused he is. “I’m sorry. Benedict. The dog’s name was Benedict.”

“Oh.” You motion towards the umbrella to pick it up, and then you realize something.

There’s only one umbrella.

The whole time that Steve was talking to you, telling stories (more than half of it you didn’t even listen to), Steve was literally under the pouring rain – and you were under his umbrella.

The rain slowly came to a stop. As your vision became clearer, the image of Steve shivering from the cold weather and his warm smile became clearer too.

Annoying.

While folding the umbrella, you can feel Steve’s eyes searching you – you can feel him observing you. And you were sure that beneath the puffy red eyes and the visible trails of tears on your face, he can see that you feel guilty.

With your eyes still fixated on the ground, you apologize. “I’m sorry. I was too consumed about my feelings ...” You pause to look at him. “...that I forgot about yours.”

“You know, it was my choice to stay here and give you the umbrella. So you don’t need to - ”

“Still!” You look down. “I’m sorry.”

He sighs. “It’s getting late, and we’re both soaked.  Let’s just call it a night. I’ll take you home and make sure you’re safe”

Home.

The sound of it made your heart ache – you place your right palm on your chest with the hopes that it could patch up the pieces of your broken heart.

“I don’t have a home.”

He paused for a moment. “Okay. How about a hotel?”

That sounded like a plan for you, but you only had your phone and your keys in your pocket – no wallet.

Steve raised an eyebrow when he saw the look on your face after you inspected your pockets.

He scratches his nape.

“Some luck we have here.” He exhales. “I only have a few spare changes with me right now, and I don’t think this’ll be enough for a hotel. This may sound really awkward, but... Do you want to stay at my place?”

Steve is a complete stranger, but you can’t see the reason why you can’t trust someone who had been nothing but kind to you. His voice was stable but you can see his hands quivering, if he doesn’t change his clothes soon, he’ll definitely get sick.

“Let’s just go to your apartment.”

A few minutes passed, and you found yourself standing in front of an apartment door.

Room 315.

“We’re here.” Steve unlocks the door and leads you inside. “Welcome? I’m sorry. I didn’t expect a visitor, so everything’s a mess.” He points at the wooden stool by the dining table “You can take a seat there. I’ll just fix things up for you.”

You stride to the chair, and sat down.

Then, you realize.

You’re alone again.

You feel it again - the void in your chest.

But this time, there was no more Steve and his stories – no more Steve and his warm smile.

It’s just you.

Alone.

You try to relax, but you can’t. You’re chest feels like it’s about to burst open, your heart is burning and holding won’t make it feel a bit better. You can’t breathe. Inhale. Exhale. But something’s blocking the air’s pathway – it’s as if your lungs suddenly decided to stop functioning. Inhale. Exhale. You can hear your heart beating. You’re palpitating and your vision’s turning blurry. No air. It won’t enter. The air.

Is this what a broken heart feels like?

In your struggle to find air, you fall from your chair.

Thud! You hit the chair with your right foot. Thud!  The chair hits the table. THUD! Then it hits the floor.

Steve went out of his room. “What’s happening there?”

Then, he saw you gasping for air. The sight of your pale face, made him throw the things that he was holding and dash towards you.

His voice was inaudible, but you can see his lips moving and you can vaguely feel his grip on your shoulders. His grip felt protective and secure.

“Hey! Hey!” He was shaking your limp body.

“Look at me. Look at me!” He was moving your body, he was desperate. “Come on, doll. Talk to me.”

Your eyelids were becoming heavier and you can feel that Steve was looking more desperate, by the second.

Bright. His eyes are bright.

And yet again, you found yourself gazing at his blue eyes – it was bright and calming. Steve might’ve notice your change in demeanor – your color less pale and your body more steady.

“Doll. Can you hear me?”

You nod.

“Good. Good. Good. Okay.” He fixes your position, his hands still on your shoulders. “I want you to breathe with me. Okay?”

He inhales.

You inhale with him.

He exhales.

You exhale with him.

And soon enough, your vision became clearer and heart is beating slower. With Steve’s help, you try to stand and sit on the chair.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You take a deep breath.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” You pause. “Sorry about that.”

Saying that Steve is always looking at you, might be the biggest understatement of the century. But it doesn’t seem like he wants answers to his questions, he just seem genuinely worried. You feel bad. You were extremely rude to him and quite frankly, out of all the people in the world, he deserves an explanation to all of the things that’s been happening. But you’re scared because explaining to him also means reliving the things that happened. Explaining to him will open fresh wounds.

The clothes that suddenly appeared in front of you cut you off of your thoughts. “You can change to these.” He then hands you a blow dryer. “You might also need these to dry. The restroom’s that way”

The way he smiles at you, and the way he worries for you. How can someone so kind exist? You grab the clothes and you start to walk to the restroom.

“Doll.”

You look back. “Doll? Is that supposed to be me?”

“Breathe in.” He inhales, and holds his breath. Then he exhales. “Breathe out.”

He smiles. You smile back.

A few minutes later, you step out of the restroom wearing an all-blue ensemble of sweatshirt and pants. You find Steve, now wearing a different set of clothes (blue fitted shirt and gray pants), sitting at the stool opposite the one that you were sitting on a while ago. Two cups of coffee lay on the table, one of which, Steve was already drinking.

You sit in front of him and grab the cup of coffee. He slowly looks at you.

“I’m sorry you had to wear that.”

You clear your throat. “Steve.” You take a sip from your hot coffee. “I’m sorry abo – about all of this.”

He finishes his cup. “You can take my bed for the time being.” He stands up and started walking towards the sink behind you. “I think we should rest now. It’s been a long day.”

He pats your head, and you are taken aback. You are in awe.

Annoying.

His kindness is annoying.

He stops and pulls his hand away. The suddenly urge to hold him, made you grab him by the wrist.

He deserves more than this.

“Y/N” You pause and let his wrist go. “My name’s Y/N L/N”

Next

A/N: You can expect deeper conversations between the reader and Steve. Since I like writing deep dialogues, I love writing that part! :D

I hope you enjoyed!

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Masterlist

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #marvel imagine #love and let love #steve rogers self-insert #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #marvel fanfic #captain america #captain america x reader

[ryderdolittle-blog]

A Turtle, a Hare, and a Lioness

Who: Mason McCarthy and Ryder Lynn, with Margaret McCarthy

Where: The McCarthy Compound

When: Morning in the Pacific timezone

Why: Mason takes Ryder out to his family’s Compound to receive an apology from Margaret McCarthy on behalf of her husband. Mason gets a surprise from his mother, while Ryder mainly tries to act normal and not nervous.

Mason had rolled out of bed at seven A.M, his time, just to try and get finish getting ready for Ryder's arrival. With everything else - new year's, Sebastian's visit to the Compound, preparation for the McCarthy Yule Ball - he'd hardly had time to overanalyze. After a quick breakfast and a quick double-check of the satellite house his mother has insisted on him preparing for Ryder 'just in case', it was nearly time. He knelt down to Sabia as he approached the family portal, scratching behind her ears. "Now, Ryder understands you, Sabia Ríoghnach McCarthy." She flicked an ear and yawned. "So please be nice. Today will be hard enough without having to explain that my familiar is still holding a grudge." Mason rested his head against hers for a moment, let her nose at his cheek, and then stood, smoothed his shirt and his jeans, and stepped through the portal back to school. He glanced at his watch - he was right on time, for once in his life...

Ryder As soon as Ryder woke up, he went back to listening to articles about the McCarthy parents. His nerves were evident, especially to his empath roommate. After changing into a button up shirt and a nice pair of pants, Ryder grabbed his coat and headed out to meet Mason at the portals. “Don’t be nervous. This’ll be fine. Mason will be there. They might even be nice and not totally intimidating like every picture makes them look,” Ryder muttered to himself along the way. When he reached the portals, he saw Mason waiting and waved his hand. “Hey,” he greeted. “Sorry I’m a little late, I couldn’t decide if I needed to wear a tie or not,” he admitted, fixing his hair with his hand.

Mason smiled, shaking his head. "Nah, man, you look fine. Great, even. No tie necessary. My mom's not a big fan of unnecessary formality," he explained. He took a breath, battled down the urge to try and get Ryder to just forget the whole thing, and plastered a smile to his face. "It's gonna be fine." He was trying to convince himself as much as he was Ryder. There was no use lollygagging, though, it would just make them more nervous, so he turned and reactivated the portal. He stepped through and rejoined Sabia, a stern behave sent her way as Ryder followed him. "Welcome to The Compound."

Ryder took in Mason’s body language, noting the fake smile and the way he lied with his reassurance. “Right, it’ll be fine,” he repeated. He stepped through the portal after Mason, inhaling the forest air with a deep breath. “Woah,” he breathed out as he took it all in. It was like its own mini campus. Ryder looked to Sabia and cocked his head curiously like a canine would. “Hello,” he said, rolling his shoulders back to stand up straight.

Mason Sabia flicked her ear - she has never spoken to a witch other than her own. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, but her pup had told her to be nice. 'Hello.' she answered evenly, a soft little growl of a noise. She stood up and approached him, sniffing him cautiously. He smelled like many other animals, which confused her, but he smelled nervous, too, so she decided to simply circle him once and return to Mason's side. "This is Sabia," Mason said, absently scratching behind her ear. "C'mon. We can take the long way." Mason smiled, a realer smile now that he was home. It was happening, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, so he might as well enjoy it. "If you have stuff," Mason said as they began walking on a wooded path. "We can drop it off on the way," Mason said, nodding to one of the tiny satellite houses tucked into the woods. "Yours is up a ways," he said, "and you don't have to use it at all if you don't want to." Mason tucked his hands in his pockets and tried to calm his erratic heartbeat - Ryder Lynn was here, at the Compound, and his brain couldn't quite comprehend it, even with him standing right next to him. "The portal's the most direct way in and out," Mason said, "'cause we have wardwalls at our property line. That's how we had to bring Quinn in."

Ryder “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sabia,” he said before focusing back on Mason. “The long way sounds good to me,” he chuckled. He moved so that he could walk side by side with Mason. As he listened closely, he could hear the birds calling to each other and singing. “I’ve just brought myself,” he shrugged, hoping that was fine. Shit, maybe he should’ve brought a gift or something. But no, he was here for an apology. “Quinn was here too?” he asked, surprised.

Mason "Yeah," Mason said, smile turning a little softer. "Three whole days. Can you believe that?" He could tell so few people about his relationship with Quinn - he couldn't help it. "It was kinda the best Yulemas gift ever, honestly." He shook his head, refocusing, though his smile was still in place. "The house might be kinda chaotic. More chaotic than usual," Mason warned, "'Cause we're getting ready for this end of Yule party we have? So don't be freaked if it's kinda loud, but once you're--we're--in with Margaret that won't hardly matter." Mason shrugged one shoulder. He came to a stop at the crest of a hill - he could see the main house from here, but it was still quiet enough that he could pretend they were in the middle of nowhere. He looked from the house to Ryder; he hesitated for only a moment before he nudged Ryder's arm with his. "It really is gonna be fine, Ry. I promise."

Ryder “That’s great, Mase. I’m glad you were able to bring her out here,” he said. When he looked around, it was hard to imagine Quinn here but he had a feeling that she had loved the trip. “I can handle a little chaos,” he nodded. As they reached the crest, Ryder looked out over the expanse of the compound before them. He wasn’t in New York anymore, that was for damn sure. In the back of his mind, he wished that Marley was able to see this. She would love it. At Mason’s nudge, Ryder brought his thoughts down from the cloud and looked to his friend. “I know,” he said. “You’ll be there to kick me if I say anything stupid,” he chuckled. “Or maybe Sabia would be so kind as to lend a helping hand.”

Mason "Hear that, Sabi? He thinks you're kind." Sabia chuffed at him. 'I do not have hands,' she pointed out to the both of them with a light huff. Mason laughed. "I'm not gonna kick you, but I'll try to...guide the conversation when I can." He started walking again, smiling to himself when Sabia darted out in front of them, chasing a chipmunk off the path. "Anything you for sure want to say? Or not say?"

Ryder “A helping paw then,” Ryder amended. “I haven’t really planned anything out,” he admitted. “All I know is that I’m going to accept the apology and thank them for inviting me out here. Is there anything that I for sure should not say?”

Mason shrugged one shoulder. "I guess the stuff you normally wouldn't say," Mason said, half-teasing and half-serious. He really hoped he didn't need to give Ryder a crash course in how to talk to adults. "Um, don't bring up the Puckerman clan, probably. You don't wanna get into Guild politics with her." Mason chuckled, then paused and looked back at him. "Unless you do. In which case...well, still avoid the Puckermans, but don't be afraid to ask questions, I guess? Don't get mad if she doesn't answer them, or doesn't answer them directly. My parents--they're big fans of the 'figure it out yourself' approach to just about everything." Mason smiled wryly; they were passing the training ring, the smith, the crafting center. In the distance, to the north, Mason could hear the horses whinnying - he almost asked what they were saying, but decided against the distraction, for the moment. The main building was closer now - Mason could see family members hanging extra lights from the tall trees that surrounded it, laughing and joking and cursing when they tripped or miscast something. "Don't let them pull you in," Mason advised lowly, a mischievous smile on his face. He moved his arm around Ryder's shoulders, a signal to the family to leave them alone, and continued, "Or else next thing you know you'll be placing bets on Kelley and Kyle's mud wrestling."

Ryder nodded as he walked alongside Mason. He really didn’t want to get into politics with her, but it seemed inevitable. Did Margaret know about Lynn’s Emporium? It seemed likely. His head popped up when he heard horses calling to each other, making him smile. When they reached other people, Ryder sent a friendly wave. “I’ll keep that in mind. I can only stay until about 2 your time,” he warned. “Then I’ve got to get back to campus."

Mason smiled as the hoarde of McCarthys waved back, though the blush colored his cheeks as they began heckling him - at least until Hal tried to whistle and dropped the log he was carrying on Ethan's foot. He shook his head, though a fond smile was on his face. "I'll let her know. I wouldn't--I can't imagine it taking that long," Mason added, opening the door to let Ryder in. He led him through the back hall - they had to pass the Great Hall to get to Margaret's office on the second floor, but Mason knew that the instant someone saw them inside, they'd either be tasked to do something or interrogated within an inch of their lives. The house itself was tall and warm, with a combination of flame and electric lights along the walls - for when the technology went wonky, they said, but Mason figured it was probably more for the aesthetic than anything. Along the wall behind the great staircase were portraits of McCarthys past - matriarchs all. Sometimes with their husbands. There was a place ready for Madison, but Mason didn't see himself on that wall - no place for the extra twin. The house was covered with bright Yule decorations, about half illusioned by Margaret herself, and the rest painstakingly hung by the family. Mason's fingers brushed along a trail of evergreen that someone had wound around the banisters, trying to calm his nerves. They were close now. Please, please, let this go well. "Mine and Madi's rooms are up further," Mason explained, mostly to fill the silence he'd accidentally let drag on. "The library's downstairs, past the hall and the kitchens." Ryder didn't need to know any of this, he realized dimly as they approached the closed office door. Shut up, Mason. "Y'don't have to call her Director," Mason added, glancing at the door. "Mrs. McCarthy should be fine. Ready?"

Ryder didn’t bother to hold back his awe once they entered the house. (Could it even be called a house?) But he remembered to close his mouth after a minute of gaping like a fish. Giant portraits showed all the strong women of the past who had lead the family and the Guild. Suddenly, Ryder felt foolish in his Walmart button down and pants. Still, he held his shoulders back and stood tall so that his body language would only read as confident. While humans didn’t always notice it, they talked through body language just as much as animals did. “I can’t even imagine growing up in a place like this,” he admitted. “I mean I literally grew up in a hut.” Something Mason didn’t need to know but Ryder had said it anyways. When they reached the door, Ryder quickly brushed his hands off on his legs before nodding. “Ready.”

Mason smiled a little wryly. "Yeah, well, sometimes I think I woulda traded anything for a hut." Mason ducked his head and didn't let the conversation continue - if it was a conversation Ryder wanted to have, they could have it somewhere other than in front of his mother's study. He raised his hand to knock just as her voice called -- Come in and Mason bit back a curse. Every single time. He opened the door and smiled a little hesitantly, letting Ryder fall in line with him. He automatically fell into the at-rest position, hands folded at the base of his spine, automatically stood a little straighter, a little taller. "This is Ryder Lynn," Mason introduced, without gesturing or moving much at all. "Ryder, this is Margaret Willow McCarthy." Mason swallowed and willed himself not to bend beneath the look his mother was giving him - he never knew what it meant, never knew how her mind was working.

Margaret studied her son for a long moment - his poker face was terrible - and then moved her gaze to the other boy in front of her. This was not a meeting with the Fabray girl; by all accounts, it was a meeting beneath her pay grade, and she was sure that most Bloodlines would have brushed it off, if indeed they'd cared at all. But this was different; it was personal. "So we finally meet, Mr. Lynn," Margaret said, standing easily. She didn't offer to shake his hand - instead, she moved over to her drink cabinet, looking over her shoulder at him. "Would you care for tea? Or perhaps something stronger? Whiskey helps the nerves."

Mason kept his mouth shut only through force of will; he had never been offered whiskey for his nerves...

Ryder saw the change in Mason as soon as it happened. His entire demeanor changed, making Ryder’s brow furrow. But he did what he could to fix his expression before walking in. “Thank you for inviting me out here, Mrs. McCarthy,” he said with a nod of his head. When he looked at her, all he could think was that she looked exactly like so many of the photos that high-profile magic magazines had published of her. When she offered him tea, Ryder smiled politely. “Tea would be fine, thanks,” he answered. “And sugar if you have any.” He knew from various cultures how rude it would’ve been to decline a show of hospitality. Hell, even animals knew that.

Margaret nodded and fixed it quickly, handing him the cup and saucer before gesturing for him to take a seat; she fixed herself a cup and briefly considered simply leaning against her desk - about as casual as she was willing to get in front of her son - but she decided that was probably too close for comfort for the poor boy, who looked like he'd been shoved onto stage without a script. Margaret took her place behind the desk, expression changing as her eyes flicked to Mason for the briefest moment. He kept his eyes fixed somewhere above her head, and he'd scarcely moved since introducing them. Good. She didn't want him in the room, but the boy did; how Mason could ever be something like a comfort was beyond her. "So." Margaret began, looking back at Ryder after a moment. "I don't know what my son told you, nor how he convinced you to join me today, but please know I do appreciate this, Mr. Lynn. I hope it doesn't cut into your winter holiday plans too terribly." Margaret stirred her tea, carefully considering her words. There were benefits to making it quick, to getting it over with, but...well, perhaps there was more to be gained than simply clearing her familial conscious. "Although I can't understand why you would develop feelings for my son," Margaret began, "the fact of the matter is that you did, at least until we made your feelings our business." Margaret sighed. "You must understand, Mr. Lynn, when it comes to my children, I believe that the best way for them to learn is to make their own mistakes. If they wished to touch the stove, I did not stop them - they would touch it anyway." Margaret's eyes flicked to Mason again. "As evidenced by my son's later indiscretion with the Fae--"

Mason "Marley," Mason finally ground out, reflexively, voice as hard as nails. "Her name is Marley Rose."

Margaret The look Margaret gave him could have cut diamonds. "As I was saying. We never should have influenced your relationship with my son. It should have been his decision to stand by, or not." Mason shifted slightly. Tense. Margaret rolled her eyes. "Oh for the love of the Aether, Mason Larch, relax, would you?"

Mason let out a breath and did relax, just slightly. "Yes, Mother. I apologize."

Margaret refocused on Ryder. "The fact of the matter is, Mr. Lynn, we apologize, for whatever...hurt feelings, for lack of a better term, our influence may have caused."

Ryder “Thanks,” he said, taking the cup and moving to take one of the offered seats. He really hoped that was fake leather beneath his butt. He doubted it though. Taking all the lessons he had learned from Grunkle John about how to deal with people, he did his best to appear at ease. He just raised the glass to his lips and mimicked taking a drink before putting it back down on the saucer. Ryder sat forward to place it on her desk then just as she began to speak. “Well, I gave up half of my last real day of break, but it was worth it to be out here in Oregon. And to see Mason,” he added, looking over his shoulder and wishing Mason would come sit with him instead of looking so uncomfortable. Ryder turned his attention back to Margaret. “Marley Rose,” he corrected at just about the same time as Mason. If she was going to talk about her, then Margaret was going to use her name. With the end of her apology, Ryder sat forward. “Thank you for your apology, Mrs. McCarthy,” he said seriously. “And for making the time to see me. But it was my understanding that your husband was the one who.. ‘influenced’ Mason against going on a date with me, not you. So I’m sorry, but I’m confused why you’re the one speaking to me.”

Margaret quirked her brow slightly - so he knew the Fae as well. Interesting. The name was scribbled in a book somewhere; she made a mental note to revisit the information she had. There had to be more to this girl. "I am speaking to you, Mr. Lynn, because my husband does not speak for this family. I do. Eventually, my daughter will, and her daughters, and so on, until we are all but dust returned to this earth beneath us. My husband, while a fine Slayer, and a fine father," was that a snort from Mason, or just a slightly louder breath? "is not a McCarthy, save for in name. He is unfamiliar with how we raise our children." Margaret paused for the briefest of moments. "And anyway. As a bisexual woman myself, the matter felt altogether more important than a meeting with my husband to discuss his failings, no?"

Mason gaped at his mother. Absolutely gaped. "As--what?"

Margaret quirked an eyebrow, a sly smile on her face as she leaned back in her seat. She crossed her fingers over her stomach. "I believe you were listening, Mason Larch."

Mason "I, no, I was, but--" Mason looked at Ryder, like he could somehow explain what was going on. "You--why didn't--"

Margaret shrugged languidly. "You never asked." She said simply. "Did you not think it strange I raised no questions when you called me about this one?" Margaret nodded to Ryder, still bemused. "Truly, I had hoped you would have figured it out by now. Perhaps that was a misplaced hope." As it so often was when it came to her son. "Please, excuse my son, Mr. Lynn. I'm sure, by now, you know...how he can be."

Mason was too surprised to even be insulted.

Margaret "Furthermore, I wanted to inform you--however moot the point may be by now--should you wish to..." Margaret gestured vaguely. "Have a relationship, with either of my children, we will not stop you. At least, not immediately." She added, with a wry chuckle. "You are all so young. The fun that can be had in one's youth can be the very thing that gives one strength in the later years, and while I'm...sure that my son has learned something from this...ordeal," Margaret said with a shake of her head. "I am not so sure that he couldn't have learned something from the opposite result as well." Margaret shrugged one shoulder and looked back at Ryder. "Tell me about yourself, Mr. Lynn. It is not common I have an unknown quantity sitting on the other side of this desk. My son managed to stutter out that you are an animal witch, no?"

Ryder “That’s something I’m familiar with,” Ryder said, actually smiling. “There were a few tribes led by matriarchs in Kenya. And they seemed to live in greater peace than the others.” When she spoke of her husband, Ryder came to think that their marriage had been arranged. “I suppose so,” he nodded, picking up his tea and actually taking a drink now that he’d seen her do the same. Please don’t be poisoned, he thought. From Mason’s reaction, it became clear that he hadn’t known about his mother’s sexuality. Huh. He turned back to Margaret and his jaw clenched at her insult to her son. No wonder Mason hadn’t wanted Ryder to meet them. He wasn’t getting any warm and fuzzy vibes from this woman. And then she was offering him permission to date her children?? WHAT EVEN WAS THIS?! He cleared his throat and set down his tea again. “Thank you, I guess, but I’m already dating someone,” he said, sitting back once more. “I am an animal witch. You already know I’m a New Age. Like Mason, this is my first year at NYADA. The first time that I’ve been in school for witchcraft. But it’s been a productive time so far. My friend, Elliott Gilbert, and me started a club for L. Naturae rights that Mason and Madison are part of. It’s called the LN Witch Alliance.”

Margaret nodded matter of factly as Ryder spoke - of course the tribeswomen were more capable leaders than the men. "It's no matter to me," Margaret said, waving off his thanks. Who Madison chose to spend her time with was a great deal more of her concern than where Mason was concerned, but even so - it wasn't as though this boy was seeking either of her children's hand or something equally absurd. Relieved to be off the subject of romance, Margaret nodded and took another sip of her tea, studying him. "I have heard of Elliott Gilbert." Had she. "Save me the soundbite, Mr. Lynn; what do you see this club accomplishing? Truly. Do you seek a position on the L. Naturae Protection Committee?" Margaret paused for a moment, tilting her head at him just slightly. "Or do you see yourself taking over the family business?"

Mason tensed slightly. Family business? What? Even if he wanted to stop whatever game his mother was about to play, he couldn't - his mind was still reeling, and he was a thousand miles away. "Ryder wants to be a Cryptozoologist, Mother," Mason offered, voice soft and hesitant.

Margaret "I don't recall asking you, Mason Larch. Mr. Lynn, I've gathered, is entirely capable of speech. Consider this your last warning before I remove you from my sight."

Mason "Yes, Mother." Mason's fingers curled on themselves behind his back, jaw clenched. Why, why, why did he have to open his mouth? Get a grip, McCarthy...

Ryder couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips, another thing he’d gotten from Quinn, when Margaret moved right over the LNWA. “I’m afraid I’ll have to cut our meeting short if Mason is no longer in the room with us,” he said. “But as for your question, I’ve got a few plans for my future. I like to keep my options open. For the club, I want to help increase the amount of freedoms the LN students have at NYADA. I’m only thinking about the school at the moment,” he explained. “And as for the family business, you must be aware that I’m the only… ‘heir’ who could take over. But my great uncle is in great health and his mind is sharp as one of your whetstones.” He looked over his shoulder at Mason, then back to her. “Mason’s right though. I have a passion for Cryptozoology thanks to experiences I’ve had at NYADA. I spent time with the chimera in the forest. And now in their new settlement,” he said. “Were you the one in charge of killing some of them?” he asked plainly.

Mason thought, for just a moment, that he read surprise on his mother's face - but it was gone a moment later. "Mr. Lynn, I should hope that after a semester at as prestigious a school as the New York Academy of Divine Arcanum, one does not have to leave the room to <<vanish from my sight>>."

Margaret As she spoke, a sigil emblazoned itself on the floor beneath Mason's feet, glowing with the bright color of Margaret's sigil. Mason let out a startled squeak - he was gone. Invisible. "Mother!" he exclaimed - he could still make noise, that he could see, so he closed his eyes; looking through himself was too bizarre, and he needed to focus. "<<I banish this illusion.>>" he said, imagining himself real and solid and visible, heard. It wasn't so hard - after all, being seen was all he'd ever wanted. When he opened his eyes, his body was exactly where it should be. Margaret seemed unperturbed; maybe even bemused. He took a few steps forward, resting his hands on the empty seat next to Ryder. He couldn't sit down, she hadn't invited him to - hadn't given him any indication that he could enter the conversation. Had in fact made it very clear that the opposite was expected. But he'd promised Ryder he'd help when he could. His hands tightened on the chair, and he didn't look away from his mother's gaze.

Mason "What Ryder meant to ask, Mother," Mason said slowly, "is for clarification on the Guild's definition of 'monster'," he said carefully. "Especially given that--that chimera don't come from the--"

Margaret "You do not need to educate me on chimera, Mason," Margaret interrupted, though without the level of venom her voice had previously held. She returned her gaze to Ryder, eyes glinting. "For the moment, I will look past your..." Margaret considered, a slight smile on her face. "bluntness. What freedoms would you grant the L. Naturae, Mr. Lynn? What protections for them and Witchkind would you have in place? NYADA has already become a great deal more...progressive, than it was in my day. It is out on a limb, and if it steps wrong, it may break. Are you aware that your club may be adding to the weight of an already fragile bough?"

Ryder clenched his jaw as he looked to Mason and then saw only invisibility. There were so many things he wanted to say at that moment, but knew it wouldn’t help at all. He had poked at a nerve. Turning back to her, Ryder crossed his legs and rested his left ankle on top of his right knee. “Should I do my own invisibility spell?” he smiled. “Or are we going to move on?” He inwardly relaxed when Mason moved closer and spoke, making himself heard once more. His smile grew at her avoiding his question, apparently that was another nerve. Then he fixed his expression once more. “You don’t need to tell me that as if I don’t know,” Ryder said, sitting forward. “Both me and Elliott were attacked on campus, and it would be stupid of us not to see the connection to the LNWA. But we both are going to move forward with it. And the first thing that we want to see is the freedom for L. Naturae to choose the classes they take and not be closed off to only the Naturalization program. Mason came up with the idea.”

Mason 'Mason came up with the idea.' It echoed dully - credit wasn't something he'd been wired to even think about, least of all to his mother. He swallowed back his surprise and nodded. "They're not talking about eliminating the Naturalization Program," Mason added, "just...expanding it. So that it's actually effective, instead of something to make Witches feel better about themselves. A Shedim learning how to do taxes doesn't have anything to do with helping them be a naturalized, effective member of society. It makes them angry, Mother."

Margaret studied the boys thoughtfully; it was perhaps the most she'd heard her son say about much of anything; furthermore, the suggestion that Mason not only supported but originated that sort of expansion was...both surprising and slightly concerning. She hadn't ever known him to have his own ideas about much of anything. "I was not simply speaking of the potential harm to your person, or that of Mr. Gilbert's person," Margaret explained, absolutely ignoring Mason's explanation - she wasn't the one they needed to convince in the slightest, but she supposed it was somewhat beneficial to have a lead on what may or may not shape their future. "I was referring to the harm to NYADA's person. But that is neither here nor there, I suppose - if you think you know what you are doing, far be it from me to stop you." There was a wry smile on her face as she leaned forward in her seat. "Has there been any progress made on your assault, Mr. Lynn? My son told me he was helping you, but was...purposefully vague about the details."

Ryder “I promise to keep that in mind as we move forward with the club, Mrs. McCarthy,” he said with a nod to her. Ryder relaxed a little and moved a hand through his hair. “On one of the attackers, yes. But not on the students that helped him. Then again, I’ve got the impression that they were working under the student who attacked me, Josh Coleman.” He briefly wondered if there was any danger in her knowing the name, but figured there wasn’t. “Thanks for your concern, by the way.”

Margaret "Quite." Margaret affixed him with a sharp gaze. Why children were handling this she was unsure, but the Director of the Slayer's Guild couldn't meddle in NYADA's affairs. Probably. "I'm sure the Security Office is working to find those who attacked you and hold them responsible for their reprehensible actions, Mr. Lynn." She was not at all sure of that; if this was tied to the LNWA, it was bigger than it appeared. "Do pass my greetings on to your great-uncle, will you? While, officially, I have never heard of Lynn's Emporium and Oddities..." Margaret trailed off with a faint smile. "Unofficially, it has provided several of my Slayers with unexpectedly valuable advantages in the past. Perhaps you will turn out similarly." Margaret shrugged. Perhaps, more likely, he would not - but she allowed the hesitant smile to remain on Mason's face all the same. "I must say, Mr. Lynn, I'm not sure what I expected to come from this introduction of ours, but...you may return to NYADA knowing that you've certainly...made an impression." Margaret stood and Mason straightened back up, folding his arms behind his back. "My son has prepared one of our satellite houses for you, Mr. Lynn, if you wish to stay at The Compound this evening. Good afternoon, Mr. Lynn."

Mason "Thank you, Mother," Mason said, vaguely amazed. Lynn's Emporium and Oddities? Just another thing on the long list of sentences that didn't make any sense, that made his head feel like it was going to explode. His mother wasn't straight. Ryder had told his mother Coleman's name. His mother gave him and Ryder permission to date--but Ryder was already seeing someone. Ryder was already seeing someone. Was that true or was he just saying that as a handy excuse to get Margaret to stop meddling? Mason moved back to the door and stood by it, waiting for Ryder to lead the way out.

Ryder shook his head and let out a quiet chuckle at that. “I doubt that, but we can hope they’ll get better at doing their jobs,” he said. He nodded at her request. “I’ll be sure to let him know. He’s got a fondness for loyal customers.” Not that Ryder had known about this but the discovery didn’t surprise him. Once she stood, Ryder did the same and didn’t bother to offer his hand. “I won’t be able to stay, but thank you for the invitation. I hope you and your family enjoy your Yule,” he said, “Good afternoon, Mrs. McCarthy.” With a smile, he stepped around his chair and turned to walk out of the room ahead of Mason. He didn’t stop walking until he was halfway down the stairs, waiting for Mason to catch up to him. “Dude, I almost pissed myself,” he whispered as soon as Mason was close enough.

Mason lingered in the room for a moment after Ryder left, half awaiting instruction or scolding; Margaret was already returning to her papers in front of her, like she'd forgotten he was there. When she looked up at him, her gaze was hard, though her voice was detached. "Well? Go." Mason nodded quickly and jogged to catch up to Ryder. He shoved his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking, but as Ryder spoke he couldn't help the half-strangled laugh. "You and me both, Ry," he promised weakly, shoving open the back door. He took a deep breath of the fresh air and instantly made a bee-line for Sabia, who was sitting beneath one of the huge pine trees, waiting. He knelt and hugged her to his chest, explaining to her in flashes what had happened. His voice was muffled by her fur when he spoke. "I'm sorry I couldn't--help more. I thought you did amazing."

Ryder moved to stay near Mason, walking out and back into the forest that surrounded the house. While he was trying to think of what to say, he watched Mason go right to his familiar. Ryder hung back and buttoned his coat back up around him. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry for how she treats you,” he said honestly. “I mean - shit, Mase, that was just so rude of her. No offense."

Mason shrugged one shoulder, even as Sabia woofed her emphatic agreement. "Yeah," he said noncommittally, a slight frown on his face. He knew, he did, that his family wasn't like other people's. Rude wasn't how he'd describe it, but it seemed as good a word as any. "It's okay, though," he said, a little more resolutely, looking back at Ryder now. "It's not like how she treats me was--was the point of that." He rests his head against Sabia's for another moment, then stands again, shaking his head. "I don't...I don't even know where to start." Mason swallowed. It felt like his brain was on overload. "Do you still wanna wander in the forest or d'you just wanna get outta here? I wouldn't blame you," he added quickly. Sabia whined lowly, leaning heavily against him. "But--but things tend to make more sense when...when there's some distance."

Ryder While he wanted to protest that it definitely wasn’t okay, it was clear that that wasn’t what Mason wanted to talk about. He checked his watch and made sure he still had time to spare. “Just take me to see some animals,” he said, sending a friendly smile to Sabia.

Mason "Okay," Mason smiled a little, glad for the company; he started walking down a path in the woods. "The horses are this way, 'n' I figure some of the others will find us on the way." He stayed quiet for a little while, mind going back over the conversation. "You did really well, Ry." He finally said, voice still soft. "I'm--I was impressed. I think she was too. I could barely tell at all you wanted to pee your pants." Mason smiled a little.

Ryder followed along beside Mason with his hands in his pockets. His thoughts were back on the conversation he’d just had and all the questions that had come from it. It still confused him why she had asked certain things. But now it made sense why Grunkle John had been okay with him going. “Really? That’s a relief,” he said with a laugh.

Mason chuckled and nodded. Relief was one of the many things he was feeling. "I can't believe....Well, I can't believe a lot of things that just happened." Mason ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. After a moment of hesitation, Mason decided any attempt to be subtle was just not going to work. "Are you really seeing someone or was that just to make her drop it?" He kept himself from asking if it was a certain fae they had in common; if it was, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Ryder “I’m just happy I got through it without making her hate me. Or maybe I did and didn’t notice,” he said, brow furrowing as he thought about that. He looked over at Mason’s question. “Yeah, I am. I’ve got a date with him tonight.”

Mason "Oh," Mason said, nodding. "Cool. Congrats, dude. Have fun." He didn't say who it was and Mason decided to respect that; turtles and rabbits and the pack of sparrows flying over their heads, twittering to each other. Whoever he was it wasn't Marley, and after this weekend, that was relieving if only because it was one less thing for him to worry about dealing with. Any reason it might be relieving beyond that was...not the point. "As for her hating you or not..." Mason shrugged one shoulder. "Try not to worry about it too much, either way. If nothing else, she's got her...y'know, her hands-off policy. And better things to worry about. It's not like you have to worry about the Director targeting you personally for vengeance over a tense meeting that was about an apology anyway." Mason shrugged. "Or if you do, you know you have me and Mads on your side about it." They finally approached the paddock and Mason leaned against the fence - it was a ginormous, grassy enclosure, and Mason could see a few of the other horses grazing in the distance. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled long and high and sure enough, a few moments later, a black stallion came trotting over the hill toward them. "His name's Dubhán," Mason said, a smile on his face. "It means black in Celtic. I was not the most imaginative kid." Mason chuckled and brushed a hand down Dubhán's neck. "I might not know how to drive a car without crashing or getting all the way off the road, but at least I can ride a horse."

Ryder “Thanks, Mase,” he said, deciding to leave off who it was. Besides, he knew that Mason only wanted to know that it wasn’t Marley. “I don’t really care if she does hate me or not. I just figure it would’ve been a lot tenser in that room if she had.” And he didn’t like it when people hated him while barely knowing him. When they reached the horses, Ryder rested his hands on the fence. He’d always liked horses, how intuitive they were. He held his hand out and let Dubhán get used to his scent. “Hello,” he greeted in horse, moving his head. After a short conversation that was mainly done through small movements and huffs of breath, Ryder turned back to Mason. “He’s a great horse,” he complimented with a smile. “And a happy one."

Mason rested his head on his hand as Ryder talked--was that the right word?--with his horse. Man, that was so cool. "Well, good. If I could bring him to school with me I would, but Spence had enough trouble handling Sabia. I don't think he'd be too wild about a horse bunking up." Mason laughed and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Thanks," Mason said after letting out a breath. "I mean. For, like." Mason brushed his fingers along the woodgrain of the fence, cleared his throat, and tried again. "I don't know if my mother cares about whether or not I'm in the LNWA or whether or not I have ideas that make sense to other people or...if she has other more important things to worry about," Mason said, still mostly addressing the fence. "But. It was nice. It was nice of you to--say that stuff. About me, to her." Mason glanced up at him and offered a little smile. "So. Thanks."

Ryder climbed up onto the first wrung of the fence and reached his hand out to stroke along Dubhán’s neck. When he looked out at the other horses, he felt at peace again despite the stress of the conversation. Once Mason explained what he meant, Ryder smiled back at him. “You’re welcome,” he said. He stepped back down and dusted off his hands. “I’m actually glad I came out here. I wasn’t sure if I would be, but it was worth the trip,” he nodded. “And hey, maybe it won’t be my last time out here. Who knows?”

Mason couldn't help but smile as he spoke - he had no idea what was waiting for him back at the main house, how his mother was actually feeling, but he had to admire Ryder's optimism. "I'm glad you came too." Mason's smile grew, finding himself nodded. "Yeah, maybe," he agreed. "And maybe then you won't be rushing off for a daaate," he teased, stepping back from the fence. "C'mon. Whoever's lucky enough to date you'll be pissed if I hold you captive out there. The time difference doesn't include post-Margaret decompression time, and trust me, once you're back on campus, you'll need it." Mason chuckled and tucked his hands in his pockets. "Let's get you home."

#para #solarmason #p: A Turtle a Hare and a Lioness