#got the same copy/paste email and the same silence after that

[see-arcane]

Hey real quick, I’m enlisting anybody who reads this to make sure that if [REDACTED] manufacturer doesn’t reply to my third estimate query email by Friday, I drop them and move on to other options for the plushie project, please and thank you

[foxhopfics]

Jason Todd as a Fox instead of a Bat

Request for anon! I took a little bit to turn this over in my brain because the timeline for aftg is so tight and Jason's timelines are... All over the place. So for reference purposes, I'm calling this an AU where after coming back from the Lazarus pit, he was still trained by Ra's Al Ghul and Talia, however instead of returning to Gotham to become the Red Hood, he takes a detour, quits his life of crime, and signs up for exy. (It's a bit of a stretch but I think I make it work. This also lowkey made me end up shipping Kevin and Jason) I'm putting this under a readmore because it accidentally got SUPER long

Jason was first introduced to exy as a pastime sport the trainees from the league of assassins would play. It's good for endurance training, muscle building, etc. etc. and it seemed like a good outlet, so he gave it a shot

His portfolio, much like Neil's, came in the form of a video. He copied and stole the security camera footage from the court they used.

As he gets more into exy he also starts to learn about the teams that are out there and kind of realizes he's not doomed to a life of crime. He can escape this, if he's smart.

And the Foxes are an underdog team. Not many eyes will be on them, so it will be easier to remain hidden if anyone comes looking for him.

The next week, he gets an acceptance email from the school, and a "welcome to the team, see you in a month!" message from a man named David Wymack

(Little did Jason know David would become more of a father to him than Bruce ever was.)

Things aren't exactly rough when he gets there, but he's definitely lived in more pleasant places. The dorm rooms are just fine by him, but the other members of the exy team make him jumpy

Most of them ignore him at first, and he kindly reciprocates.

They get along well enough in practice, Jason preferring to use his larger stature to play a good, solid defense. He's great at planting himself in the way of the oncoming strikers, and they always underestimate his speed because of his size.

(He was always taught to defend and protect, after all...)

It's not until about the events of TFC when Neil starts to bring the team together that Jason really starts to get to know everyone. Kind of reluctantly, since he was happy being on his own with a provided cover story.

But Neil pushes and he gives like a broken dam. There's still that little kid somewhere stuck in there that wishes someone would just care for him.

Eventually he starts to open up on his own to the others, ending up really connecting with Kevin. Kevin and him were both raised by men who wanted the best from them, expected no less, and met disappointment with hard, frozen stairs.

Jason could count on his fingers the times Bruce had smiled at him or told him "good job". Kevin couldn't even name one time the Moriyamas ever did.

And as he opens up he begins to see his family in the faces of his new friends. He sees the bubbly positivity in Nicky that reminds him of Steph. He's hearing the same logical calculations that Tim would make come from Aaron's mouth instead. He sees Dick in every move Matt makes, both of them born for teamwork and support. He sees a flicker of Renee out of the corner of his eye and for a second can swear it's Cass.

While he tells him the things that have happened to them, they're met with stunned silence. But honestly, Jason is grateful for everyone to accept it and go, considering Neil's past is still chasing him. Jason's isn't, at least, not right now

It's not until after the first time Kevin and Jason end up in bed together and they're both shirtless that it really hits them both how fucked up they are. Both their bodies are littered with scars and old injuries.

But there is love and care in healing damaged things and Kevin traces his fingers along the angry lichtenberg scars left by the Lazarus pit.

Anyway they are shortly interrupted by the mob coming after Neil and Jason is basically like "jesus i could take care of this in 0.5 seconds but im not a murderer anymore and Matt has accidentally instilled a moral compass in me"

and then Neil gets fucking KIDNAPPED? and everyone gets roughed up by the crowed and gets taken to the hospital except for Jason who actually kept track of Neil during all this madness knowing there were literal people coming for him and his Vigilante Senses turned on.

NYWAY he tracks Neil to Nathan's hideout and he's basically the one who called it in because he's used to having to do such things from his time as Robin.

Basically Jason would take the place of Neil's uncle because where the fuck did HE even come from and this works better imo.

I decided I didn't want Jason to change much in the story because with his past and ESPECIALLY his time in the league of assassins, he could very easily become an OP Deus Ex Machina instead of a character in a story with ups and downs. But this also made me want to a) rewrite the whole series but i do NOT have time to do that. but also b) i may end up writing a more in depth fic about Jason and Kevin and if that accidentally evolves into a series then WHOOPS! Anyway hope you enjoyed!

[greenhikingboots]

Chispas's Prompt! Obviously! 😁

Haha. Obviously! About this post. I'm going to keep the original ficlet prompt in my inbox so I can eventually reply to it. So that others can start to envision where this is heading, I'm also going to copy/paste it here. And then the first section of what I've written so far will be below the cut. Prompt: Two popular fan-fic writers for the same fandom. Sansa writes sweet modern aus with a fair amount of smut, while Jon is a canon stickler who never has any romance. While on Sansa's laptop one day, one of her friends (I don't care who) leaves a comment on one of Jon's fics asking when x & y are going to kiss already, or something like that. You know...hi-jinks ensue.

Sansa Stark sits cross-legged in the living room she shares with her sister, peering at her reflection in an antique, floor full-length mirror she bought a few months earlier. It dominates the corner where she most likes to get ready — creates the perfect spot for her ritualistic preening and primping ahead of a fun night out. Tonight, for instance, Sansa’s celebrating her birthday with the rest of her family. They’ll soon be dining at one of Winterfell’s highest rated restaurants, The Glass Garden. “This place looks pretentious,” Arya says. She’s sprawled across the couch behind Sansa, most of her body visible in the mirror so long as Sansa tilts her head to the right. When she does, she sees Arya scrolling on her phone, presumably looking at the restaurant's menu. Instead of replying, Sansa shakes her head and continues curling her hair. It’s true she picked somewhere fancy for her twenty-fifth birthday, but, hey, a quarter of a century is a big damn deal, isn't it? She refuses to let Arya make her feel guilty about that. “This salmon dish sounds good, though,” Arya mutters after a moment. And then, without warning, she lets her phone drop to her stomach and says, “Hey, Robb invited Jon. Did he tell you?” Sansa’s heart nearly leaps out of her chest. She’s known Jon Snow, her brother’s best friend, for as long as she can remember. But it has only been since moving back to Winterfell after graduate school that she’s really started to notice him. At first, it was Jon’s improved looks and increased confidence that caught Sansa’s attention. Shallow stuff she told herself she’d be able to dismiss after a week or two of practicing. But then, during the practicing, more and more of Jon’s positive traits stood out. There’s a long list of them. He’s a good listener, a hard worker, and a generous tipper. He loves animals and his mother too. He asks clever questions and makes clever observations. He sticks up for outcasts and underdogs. And his smile — It’s cliche to say that when Jon smiles, he lights up the room. But because his smiles are so hard-won, Sansa’s starting to believe some cliches are true. And Seven save her when she's actually the one to cause Jon’s smile. Sansa pictures it now, without really meaning to, then tries not to smile at her own reflection in the mirror. Arya doesn’t know about her crush on Jon, and that’s how she’d like to keep it. “No, Robb didn’t tell me,” she replies. “But that’s fine. Jon’s practically family too.” Arya nods sagely, like maybe she’s crediting herself for setting a good example — she accepted Jon as family long before Sansa ever did — then begins scrolling on her phone once more. It’s five minutes later, when Sansa’s finished her hair and moved onto her makeup, that Arya breaks their silence, this time saying something totally mundane. “So, uh, I just got an email I need to reply to. It’s too much to type on my phone, so can I use your laptop instead?” Arya’s own laptop is in her bedroom, not far away, but since Sansa can see hers tucked in the corner of their couch, next to Arya’s feet, she grants the favor. “Yeah, sure. Go for it,” she says. Sansa doesn’t think any more about it until a certain sequence of noises piques her interest. After the clattering of Arya’s fingertips slows down, the clicking of the touchpad speeds up. There are so many clicks, in fact, that it seems like Arya’s comparing items on different tabs or following links in search of some hidden answer. After a glance in the mirror at her little sister, it’s more than Sansa's interest that is piqued. It's her nervousness. “Why are you grinning?” she asks. “No reason,” Arya chirps. But she’s fighting back a laugh and smashing the laptop closed as fast as she can. Lying, obviously.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Secret’s Out

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Bruce was looking at his emails when Y/N arrived at the table.

She was breathing heavily and her hair was a bit messy, just further proving she had rushed to get there.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she huffed embarrassingly. “My shoot ran over and every one was moving so slowly.”

Bruce smiled. “Y/N. Relax.”

Then he stood up to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

The two of them hadn’t seen each other in over a month. Y/N had been traveling for work constantly. And between the vigilante life and Wayne Enterprises, Bruce was running on 2 hours of sleep on the daily.

“I need a drink,” Y/N finally sighed after she got situated.

As if on cue, their waitress dropped Y/N’s favorite drink in front of her.

Y/N eyed Bruce with surprise.

He just shrugged.

Sometimes Y/N forgot how much her father noticed literally everything.

“Thank you,” she told the waitress.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Bruce said with a disapproving look.

She rolled her eyes. “Really? You’re not one to talk, Bruce.”

“You deserve a vacation. I’ll pay for it. Pick wherever you want. Bring Jason. Or some friends.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Bruce…”

It was a warning.

From the very start of their unconventional father-daughter relationship, Y/N had made it clear that she could not be bought. And Bruce spoiling her made her extremely uncomfortable. Even now, she still tried to at least split restaurant checks with him. Bruce always won those battles though.

“I’ll take a vacation when you do,” she finally countered.

That sure shut him up.

“Hey, I actually brought you something,” Y/N changed the subject as she reached for her bag.

A moment later, she lightly placed a manila folder onto the table.

Bruce’s brow furrowed as he reached for it.

As soon as he opened it, he froze.

“I had to clean out some stuff and put things into storage,” Y/N explained. “I found all my mom’s photos. I figured I could make copies of some childhood photos for you.”

Bruce’s silence made Y/N nervous.

“If you don’t want them, that’s totally fine.” She started to reach for the folder out of Bruce’s grip with awkward embarrassment. “It was stupid–”

But Bruce quickly pulled the folder closer to him and stopped her from taking the photos from him.

“Thank you,” he announced.

It made Y/N quickly sit back in her chair, caught off guard by his sincere reaction and how he’d immediately become protective of the photos.

Bruce awkwardly cleared his throat. “Thank you, Y/N.”

He repeated to make sure she understood how thankful he truly was. And Y/N suspected the throat clearing was to hide his emotions.

Now she watched as Bruce slowly went through every picture. He took in every detail with a soft smile.

These weren’t just photos. These were all of Y/N’s memories that Bruce missed, that he could never get back. And he was savoring all of them.

Then Bruce paused and was fully smiling now.

“What?” Y/N asked.

She didn’t know why all of this made her so nervous.

Bruce didn’t say anything as he lifted a photo and flipped it to show her.

It wasn’t from her childhood.

It was a black and white photo of Jason. A candid from when he had escorted her around the slums of Gotham for her most recent gallery show.

After months of thinking about it, Y/N finally had decided she wanted to frame it and hang it somewhere in her apartment. 

Y/N’s jaw dropped with embarrassment and she ripped it from his hands.

“I was developing some photos at the same time as I was making the copies. Must’ve gotten mixed up in those,” Y/N explained too quickly, unable to meet Bruce’s gaze.

It made Bruce happy to know that Y/N didn’t have the same inability to love someone and let people in like he did. It was a relief that she didn’t isolate herself from it like he had. If her mother was still alive, Bruce would thank her for it. But if Y/N’s mother were alive, he would’ve never known about Y/N in the first place.

Their entire dinner was spent with Bruce looking at the old photos. He had at least two questions for each one. Some of them Y/N didn’t remember being taken. But most of them came with stories or a loving memory.

Y/N talked for most of the meal. But that’s exactly what Bruce wanted.

Furthermore, Bruce had nothing of value to update her on. Batman business had consumed his life as of lately, and he had made a promise to never involve Y/N in any of it. And Jason seemed to be on the same page when it came to his other life as Red Hood. 

Both men seemed determined to keep her safe and away from it all. 

Two hours later, Bruce was paying the check and helping Y/N into her coat.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he muttered as they started walking out.

Y/N had learned by now to give up on those small battles. Jason was the same way when it came to making sure she got home safely.

As they made their way to the exit, Y/N caught a few stares from other patrons who were still eating.

“Do you ever get used to it?” She asked her father in a low voice.

“Get used to what?” He asked, genuinely unaware of what she was getting at.

“People gawking at you.”

Bruce glanced around and unintentionally glared at anyone who was staring at Y/N.

“It’s good that I’m seen in public…for obvious reason,” he hinted in a quiet voice, obviously talking about needing the cover to continue his life as a masked vigilante.

Once they were outside, Alfred was already waiting at the curb with the Rolls-Royce. He greeted Y/N with a hug and a kiss to her cheek before opening the door for her and Bruce.

When they got to Y/N’s apartment building, she said her goodbyes to Alfred. And Bruce walked Y/N all the way up to her door.

Even though Y/N insisted it was overkill and she could get up the stairs on her own just fine, Bruce had seen too many terrible things in this forsaken city. He could think of thousands of things that could happen to Y/N between the car and her front door.

Once Y/N realized that Bruce’s paranoia came from experience, she stopped trying to stop his chivalry and overprotective ways. She finally understood that Bruce had seen things that would prevent her from ever sleeping again. So if walking Y/N to her door gave him a little peace of mind, she wasn’t going to take that away from him.

Y/N turned to Bruce when they reached her door. “Thanks again for dinner.”

“Of course. I’m glad we could spend some time together. Thank you again for the photos.”

Y/N didn’t realize that Bruce was about to hang every single one around Wayne Manor. 

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug. “Get home safe.”

——————

Y/N woke up wrapped strong arms, her body overheating slightly.

When she had come home from dinner last night, Jason had already left for patrol.

He hadn’t woken her up when he got back home, just proving how exhausted Y/N had been these past few weeks.

But it was the continuous buzzing vibrations of her phone that woke her up. When she brightened the screen, she saw that she had dozens of text messages and three missed called from Bruce.

“What the fuck,” Y/N whispered as she started opening them.

But they were all about the same thing.

Everyone had sent her similar articles from various gossip websites or news outlets.

BRUCE WAYNE’S NEW GIRLFRIEND IS FAMOUS PHOTOGRAPHER Y/F/N Y/L/N

BRUCE WAYNE’S FLAVOR OF THE WEEK

IS Y/F/N Y/L/N USING THE PRINCE OF GOTHAM TO FURTHER HER CAREER?

All of the headlines were joined with photos of Bruce and Y/N having dinner last night. Apparently other customers at the restaurant had snuck photos of Bruce greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Y/N could see how it would be misinterpreted as romantic and not familial or platonic. But it still made her sick to see the photos twisted in such a way.

Then there were paparazzi photos of them getting in a car together. Of course there were none of Bruce dropping her off and them going their separate ways. That would be just too convenient for the two of them. 

Y/N’s stomach dropped with panic.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she gasped without realizing it.

Jason immediately woke up. “What is it?”

Y/N ignored him and called Bruce.

“I’m handling it,” was how Bruce answered her call.

“Handling it? How exactly?” She challenged. “We can deny the rumors all we want. But everyone is going to keep tabs on us now, and they’re going to see us together again.”

Jason grabbed his own phone.

One of his brothers must’ve sent him a similar article because he rubbed his face in annoyance, finally understanding the situation. 

Nothing like your girlfriend being rumored to have a relationship with her father, who was also your mentor and adoptive father. 

“Y/N, it will blow over. It always does,” Bruce tried to calm her down.

“So what happens when I get photographed with Jason? Huh? They’re going to just say I’m cheating on both of you with each other or some fucked up shit like that.”

Bruce was silent, because they both knew she was right.

Y/N glanced at Jason, who was already waiting for her gaze.

She took in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maybe we should…Maybe we should just tell the truth.”

“You’ve never wanted that, Y/N.” Bruce tried to argue.

And he was right.

Y/N was terrified of being associated with the Wayne family. People would start believing she secretly built her career off of nepotism that no one was aware of. She also didn’t want that type of attention from the media and the upperclass of Gotham.

“I don’t think we have any other choice,” Y/N finally answered.

Jason reached for thigh and gripped it, trying to offer her some sort of comfort.

“Y/N, are you sure about this?” Bruce asked slowly.

“No. Not at all. But I’d rather not have the public think I’m dating my biological father.”

“OK,” Bruce sighed. “I’ll talk to my publicist today.”

“OK.” She bit her lip before adding. “Just…tell them the whole story.”

“Y/N, if you’re worried how it will make me look, don’t.”

“But I am worried about it, Bruce. They’re going to drag you for being an absent father. And none of that is true. They’re not gonna understand.”

“I’ll call you later with an update,” he told her softly before hanging up.

Y/N tossed her phone to the foot of the bed in frustration.

Jason watched as she buried her face in her hands.

“You OK?” He asked as he rubbed her back.

“No,” she answered honestly.

“Come here.” Jason pulled her into his chest.

There was no fight from her as he cuddled her tightly.

“This is a fucking nightmare,” she groaned into his shoulder.

“I know. But maybe it’s for the best,” he tried to reason with her.

“And what happens when they catch wind that I’m dating my father’s adoptive son? Huh?”

“We’re not actually related, Y/N.”

She pulled her face back so she could glare at him. “Yeah! We know that! But you do understand that people are going to see it that way, right? Like we’re gonna look like some fucked up incestual couple to them.”

“I don’t really care,” Jason finally told her.

“You don’t care?” She scoffed.

“No,” his answer and confidence didn’t waver. “I don’t give a fuck what people say about us, Y/N. If exposing the truth means we don’t have to think twice about going to events or even just going out to dinner, then I’m all for it. I’m sick of hiding our relationship.”

Y/N blinked. She never considered that their subtle relationship bothered him in any way. She was always a strangely private person, so it felt normal to her. But clearly Jason had been wanting to be a bit more public with their relationship.

“What if this changes everything?” Y/N whispered, not meeting his eyes.

Jason smirked at that and gripped her chin, lifting it up so she would look at him. “Some paparazzi and trash tabloids aren’t going to change how I feel about you, Y/N.”

Y/N laughed lightly at that.

“Maybe we should leave Gotham for a bit,” she offered. “Bruce won’t shut up about paying for a vacation for us.”

Jason nodded. “I think that sounds like a good idea. You’ve needed a break for awhile now.”

“Well…where do you wanna go?” Y/N asked.

“Doesn’t matter to me. As long as you’re there.”

She rolled her eyes and hit Jason in the face with a pillow. “God, you really are a sap.”

Y/N appreciated Jason always being able to make her feel better and feel supported. 

But even he couldn’t stop her from wondering...

What would life be like as a Wayne?

------------------------------

Father of Mine – Bonus Content

[anonquack]

| And Me? |

Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot!

Word Count: 2262

Warnings: None! Just some curse words.

Summary: Seeing how much time you've been spending with Bad recently just doesn't sit well with Quackity, and he's going to make sure your attention is returned back to where it belongs. With him.

You had been messing around with what was coined the "Feral Boys" on a Saturday afternoon. Your takeout order was placed on your desk, neglected by the loud clicking and tapping of your keyboard. You all had been throwing around random stream ideas, which proceeded to be bashed by everyone.

"Guys," Dream groaned, frustration clear in his tone yet there was still that softness that let everyone know he wasn't actually mad, "we've been on call for 2 hours and still have no stream ideas we like."

"Maybe if Sapnap didn't complain about everything." Karl quickly quipped in, the grin that was probably plastered onto his face was visible to you even with it just being voice chat.

Sapnap clapped back just as quickly, a little more edge to his words but just the right amount of teasing too.

"Yeah? Nothing works with your schedule. We gotta fit these ideas in with your Mr. Beast-filled schedule."

Quackity let out a laugh that made you roll your eyes yet smile fondly as you finally turned to look at your food, taking a bite as the call jumped right back into their previous banter, a helpless Dream trying to regain control and get everyone to work together.

It served as background noise as you quietly ate your food, inputting or agreeing with someone here and there, your stomach grateful to finally be getting some food. You'd been too busy earlier, and now you had the chance to eat and relax on call with friends. No actual streaming or anything, but still with the burden of coming up with new and fun stream ideas.

As you took yet another bite, your gaze fell onto your phone as the screen lit up, a notification coming through. You set your food down and grabbed the device, clicking on it and smiling once you saw it was a message from Bad.

Unlike whatever mess this call was, you had scheduled to record a video with Bad, and you assumed this message was to confirm that he was now available to film. After quickly reading it, your assumptions were proven right.

"Hey, Bad just texted. I'm gonna head out. Try not to think too hard while I'm gone, okay?" You said as you grabbed ahold of your mouse again, cursor going towards the disconnect button.

There was a mix of 'Bye!' and 'You think of some too, then!' and Sapnap's backhanded remarks that told you he would indeed miss you. You smiled, about to click disconnect before he spoke up.

"Bad? What are you recording with Bad?" The question caught you off guard, not because it came from Quackity but because no one had asked.

"Oh, well, just for a youtube video.. and I promised him we'd chat since I miss him." You admitted, cursor dancing across the screen as you waited for a response, if there was to be any.

"How come we didn't get invited?" Quackity asked, voice a mix of feigned hurt and disbelief of being 'left out'.

You playfully rolled your eyes, noticing a message come in from Bad yet again asking if he could call now. "You spend enough time with Bad as it is. Get in line, right now its MY turn. Now bye!! Seriously." You chuckled, hearing the start of a protest before disconnecting from the call and moving your cursor onto Bad's chat, quickly pressing the call button and waiting to hear his sweet voice ringing through your headphones.

—

As the small ping notified everyone else in the call that you had disconnected, Quackity let out a small huff, followed by George's small laugh.

"What was that?"

"What was what?" Quackity replied with a tired tone, fingers lazily typing up some email he had been procrastinating on.

"Was that jealously I smelled, Big Q?" Karl teased, letting out a laugh that was so contagious, eliciting laughs from the whole call, even Quackity couldn't help but laugh before letting out another noise of disapproval.

"No, what the fuck? It's just they didn't even contribute any ideas. Just sat and argued with us, and then left to go hang out with Bad." He reasoned, it was a half truth. It didn't bother Quackity at all that you'd been 'unproductive', he enjoyed your company so much and these past two hours had left him with a tummy ache from laughing too hard.

What he hadn't enjoyed was you dropping everything to go on a call with Bad.

It didn't actually bother him, it was part of the bit they had going on, where he was a Skeppy 2.0 and had to fight the other Skeppy copies, in this case YOU, for Bad's attention.

..

Right?

He could feel a migraine coming through trying to understand this new emotion settling in his chest.

Sapnap let out an amused laugh, mumbling a 'sure' but swiftly changing topics in order to not start yet another argument.

—

It had been about 4 days since the call with the 'Feral Boys' and the recording with Bad. Since then, everything had ran smoothly and you'd been extra productive, focused on getting the video edited and posted as soon as possible.

Currently, you were ringing Bad as he streamed on the server, wanting to make a quick appearance and also just bug him for a bit since you missed him.

Since it was a rather chill stream, Bad didn't fight away your affection, instead encouraging that you hop on the server and play with him for a bit. You couldn't say no to that, how could you?

Before you knew it, you were off your bed and on your chair, in front of your computer as the Minecraft loading screen lit up your facial features and Bad told chat and you about an event that took place this weekend while he was out shopping.

The hushed laughs and sweet stories being shared were soon interrupted by Bad letting out an annoyed huff. "Quackity is spamming me to let him join the call. Is that okay, Y/N?"

You nodded, letting out a hum of approval as you walked towards Bad's avatar that was currently standing still since Bad tabbed out. "Of course."

"Okay, Quackity I'm live, what do you want?" Bad warned before tabbing back onto minecraft.

"Why are you guys calling without me?" There it was, the same tone he had 4 days ago when he was 'upset' he got left out. Your eyes looked at the small message on the bottom left of the screen that let everyone know Quackity had joined the server.

"Because.. whats wrong with it?" Bad asked, confused, before happily following that up, "I was actually telling them about my trip to the store over the weekend."

"Yeah, he was," you mused, "before you rudely interrupted." You assumed he was here for a bit, the Skeppy 2.0s fighting for Bad's love and affection, bothering Bad for a bit before letting the stream go back to being a relaxing, chill stream.

"Yeah? Well I want to hear the story too. You'll tell me too, right Bad?" He returned, the joking tone in his voice confirmed your assumptions. This was a bit.

Bad let out an exasperated sigh. These bits were never planned beforehand, they just happened and unfortunately for Bad it was happening during his chill stream. "What are you two going to fight about now?"

"I have one. Why were you guys recording without me? Hm?" The chat exploded with confusion and excitement for a new video from either Bad or you, possible video ideas being thrown around in chat.

"Because." You deadpan, "If you can do it, so can I."

"That's different." He says every single syllable with precision, as if he is preaching something of upmost importance. "You two spend way too much time together now."

Bad says something to try and interfere the banter he knows is about to take place, chat is going crazy about the Skeppy 2.0s fighting for Bad's love. "So much for a chill stream." He mumbles to chat as his character watches you and Quackity hitting each other. With your fists, since it was deemed a 'fair fight' by both.

After about 3 hours, Bad decided he'd had enough and began saying goodbye to chat. There was a content smile on your lips as you made your character crouch beside Bad's, letting out a small and content "Bye chat!". Quackity had stayed the 3 hours as well, and was yelling his own goodbyes. As soon as the stream ended, Bad let out a small laugh.

"Sometimes you two are just too much." He said, the smile evident in his voice. "Do you guys enjoy bothering me that much?"

"Aw c'mon, Bad. You know we love you tons. And you know damn well you enjoy it too." Quackity teased, which earned yet another exasperated sigh from Bad.

"Okay, well I'm heading to bed.. I'm exhausted. Thank you two, for joining me tonight.. I had fun." He said softly, which automatically made a frown appear on your lips.

"Of course, Bad! I had fun too. Thanks for letting us join. I'll call you tomorrow, yeah?" You offered, to which he hummed. There was a few more goodbyes exchanged before the ping notified you both Bad was gone.

There was silence for a bit as you finally got out of the server and shut minecraft off, wanting to rest your eyes for a bit. Maybe even head to bed yourself.

"You'll call him tomorrow, huh?"

Your eyes closed and you leaned your head back against your chair.

"Bit's over, Quackity." You chuckled, not up for yet another banter about who deserved Bad's love more.

"When's the last time we called? Now it's just Bad this, Bad that."

Your eyes opened, your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at his little profile picture that had its green ring fading around it.

"What?" You said in pure disbelief.

"You heard me." He mumbled. "Video recordings, streams, calls. And me? Nothing. Not one crumb."

"What about you?" You teased, amusement growing as you realized the past 3 hours had not been about Bad, at least not entirely.

"Don't make me actually say it." He complained, which only helped make the smile on your face grow.

"Use your words, Alex. I can't read minds." You gently bit at your bottom lip in anticipation, and in poor attempt to hold back the laugh that was threatening to escape.

"Where's my calls? My recordings. You can't just randomly strip away all your attention from me and dump it on Bad."

"I didn't even do that." You protested, before letting the laugh escape your lips. "Plus, you should be greedy over Bad's attention, not mine."

"Maybe it's not for a bit, asshole? Did you think of that?" He asked sarcastically, earning a scoff from you.

"So you want my attention yet you're going to proceed to call me an asshole?"

"Yes." He breathed out.

"You didn't deny it." You hummed in slight approval. Usually he'd shy away from showing any actual clinginess or affection, and yet here he was, declaring with his whole chest that he wanted attention.

"Because I'm serious. Do you think this is a joke? Is that what I am to you?" He said dramatically, to which you shook your head.

"Of course not." You hummed before smiling at the absurdity of this conversation.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep finally catching up to you and now you were imagining things.

"So? Does this mean I'm getting daily calls, recording videos with you, and streaming together whenever? Even on the alt?"

"Now you're just asking for too much."

"It's the bare minimum you can do for treating me so poorly and neglecting your responsibilities."

"Neglecting my responsibilities?" You repeated in disbelief.

"Yes." He declared. "Ignoring me for Bad is neglecting your responsibilities. A.K.A. me."

"I wasn't ignoring you, Alex." You tried to reason, though he would not listen to any reasoning.

"Yeah, yeah. So what? Do we have a deal?"

You paused and thought about what he was asking for. It really wasn't much, and he was most likely joking, but it was very endearing to see him ask for attention so openly. Especially from you.

"Did you miss me, Alex? While I was off on calls with Bad, talking about who knows what until who knows what time.. were you missing me? Thinking about me?" There was a teasing tone to your voice, but you also genuinely wanted to know.

It was clear that it caught him offguard.

"I mean.. yeah– what do you want me to say? No, fuck you. I didn't miss you at all. That's why I'm on call with you whining and bitching about how you don't give me enough attention and I want more. Specifically from you, please."

His last few words came out more hushed than the rest, and it brought a smile onto your face.

"Okay."

"Okay-?"

"You don't have to go on.. I'll give you the attention you want so badly from me." You said, the grin on your face growing more at the sound of happiness he let out.

"I guess directly asking for stuff isn't too bad, hm? I'll have to give props to Karl later for the advice."

You raised your eyebrows in amusement. "You asked Karl for advice on how to get my attention-?"

He let out a small groan, "Let's not talk about this with anyone, yeah? Just give me my attention and shh."

You hummed, "Whatever you say, Alex."

[soramei]

Intentional - Part 1

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn 

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut,

Word Count: 7.3k 

Masterlist

A/N: hey yall this is my first ff im posting on tumblr :D im kinda scared to post but i hope anybody who stumbles on lil ol’ me will join me along the way :) also important!!! i made oc/reader asian cus i am lol (and this whole thing is basically a glorified self insert) so plz keep this in mind when reading!! oh god i didnt realize how slow this first part was sry... 

The cold silence of the room felt like stabs at your inside. You commanded your feet to stop bouncing up and down as you unconsciously started to bite off the dead skin of your bottom lip. The white corporate light from above reflected off your brand new lanyard hanging delicately from your neck. You felt the coarse blue fabric rub against your neck as you mindlessly fiddled with your lanyard; the newly printed photo of your face stared back at you with a smile. 

The creak of the door to your left was what broke you from your nervous fidgets. Whipping your head up from your lanyard, you immediately stood up ready to bow to whoever came through that door. 

It was a girl. She looked around the same age as you, if not older. Her attire was what gave her away. Her appearance essentially mirrored yours: hair tied back into a ponytail with a white blouse and black work pants. She also had the familiar blue ‘JYPE’ labeled strap hanging from her neck. 

“Hello,” you spoke meekly, scared to disturb the cold silence that had a hold on the room you were in. 

“Hello,” she replied. “My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern and today is my first day.”

This is so relieving, you thought, another newbie to share the stress with me. 

“This is my first day too,” you perked up, “I’ll be starting as the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.” 

Getting the acceptance email from JYP Entertainment was definitely a high point in your life. The feeling of butterflies swarming your insides as you clicked the email open only to see your acceptance was immediately locked as a core memory. All the years of memorizing thousands of Korean and English vocabulary flashcards, the panic attacks before your finance exams, and the many, many late night coffee breaks were worth it the moment you received your first legitimate job offer, and from the esteemed JYP Entertainment company no less. 

“Chinese marketing?” Na-eun asked. “So you aren’t from here, I take it.” 

You shook your head. “I am from China. I completed my degree a while ago with a major in Language and a minor in Business. To be honest, I’ve done internships back home, but it’s been my dream to move to a new country.”

All of what you said was true. Up until now, your surroundings have never changed in all of your twenty-three years living. From the walk with your grandmother to daycare to the vast campus of your university, the view of your city has never changed. Your social circle stayed stagnant since you were able to talk and your love life was — for a lack of a better word — uneventful. 

It wasn’t until the day you decided to start applying for careers outside your home country that you felt hopeful. Hopeful that you could find an escape from your inert lifestyle and escape the burnout and stress that has been building up over the years. And so, on a day when you were feeling unusually confident, you gathered up the courage and spent hours sending out applications to organizations all over Asia that pertained to your specific degree. The applications were mainly for small jobs at small companies, however, your strange spike of motivation gave you the confidence to apply to the everso esteemed JYP Entertainment located in Korea. Of course you knew about this company — you and your friends played songs by ‘Twice’ nonstop back in highschool — but you didn’t realize the full power that this company had on the entertainment market until you did your full research. To say that you thought you had no chance was an understatement. This application was so far of a reach that you purposefully forced your mind to erase all memory of even applying. 

However, with your education, your work experience, and whatever tiny bit of luck you had, you somehow made it through the initial application process. Then the next. And the next. Then the interview. And now, you were nervously sitting in this white painted room with Na-eun, in a completely new country, waiting for your manager to come greet you. 

“So you’re from China? You’ve got to teach me chinese sometime.” Na-eun smiled. 

You giggled in return while nodding your head. You were relieved that you’ve met a potential friend so early in your career in this company. This was one of your big worries. With your social circle being so stagnant for the majority of your life back in China, you rarely had the opportunity to meet new people, much less make new friends. 

You were about to inquire more into Na-eun’s life when the door to your left abruptly opened. In the blink of an eye, three new people strutted in — two women and one man. They seemed to be higher status than you and Na-eun judging by their attire. All three were styled in some type of blazer and dress pants and there was no lanyard to be found on any of them. 

“Hello new employees,” the man greeted. Judging by his face, he looked to be in his late thirties at the least. His hair was styled back neatly and his lips slanted up, giving him a fox-like appearance. “I am Executive Manager Kim. Joined beside me on the left is Social Media Manager An and to my right is Marketing Manager Chen.” 

Both you and Na-eun immediately stood up to bow and introduce yourselves. 

“Hello. My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern.” Na-eun said. 

“Hello. My name is y/n, I’m the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.” You repeated after her, copying exactly what she said. You did not want to screw anything up on your first day, especially your first impression. 

Manager Kim reached over to Na-eun, introducing himself and giving her a firm handshake. He then slowly moved over to you, and reached for your hand. 

“Y/n,” he gave time for your name to settle on his tongue as he gave a sly smile. “You’re not from here, aren't you?”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No, sir. I’m from China where I studied language and business. I hope to do well here as the Chinese marketing assistant.” You replied, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so timid. 

“I’m glad to hear,” Manager Kim chuckled, “I’m sure you’ll treat me and your other managers well.”

You felt an uncomfortable shiver pass through you as he brushed his thumb along your hand before letting go. This feeling was excused as nervousness, after all, this was your first day and your first time meeting your higher-ups. 

You introduced yourself to Manager Chen, assuming that she would be the one you were to assist in your time here at JYPE. Judging by her last name, you presumed that she was Chinese as well. 

“Forgive me for being so straight up Manager Chen, but are you Chinese?” You asked. 

“That is alright, y/n,” she smiled, “I’m not. My Husband is, but I’ve lived in China for more than half my life. I don’t want to brag, but my mandarin has gotten proficient over the past decade or so.”

Proficient? It’s amazing. You thought. This first day was turning out better than you thought. Other than the weird feeling you received from Manager Kim, everything was turning out splendid. A potential friend and a manager that could speak your first language.

“Since it’s about noon right now,” Manager Kim took a look at his watch, “What do you all think about some lunch?” 

The other managers nod their heads in agreement and gestures for you and Na-eun to follow them out of the waiting room you were in for so long. 

The whole building seemed so clean. With every corner lit, by natural light or artificial light, you could clearly see that every room, every piece of furniture and decor had been purposefully placed. You couldn’t help but have a stupid look of awe plastered on your face as you mindlessly follow your superiors over to the cafeteria.  

You turned your head over to Na-eun and gave her a tilt of the eyebrow, silently saying wow, this is where we work. 

With the turn of a corner and several silent strides, your little group made it to the cafeteria. 

The difference between your claustrophobic waiting room and this vast room was astonishing. With countless tables and romantic yellow lighting, this place almost resembled a five star restaurant. You’ve never seen a cafeteria as extravagant and clean as this before. However, to be fair, you’ve never had the experience of working with such a large corporation before. 

The managers led you to the serving station where you grabbed yourself a tray and proceeded to spoon small portions of rice and side dishes onto your plate. This cuisine was different to what you were used to, but nonetheless looked delicious. You were prepared for the small cultural differences, especially with the food, but from everything you’ve witnessed so far, the culture shock would be easier to overcome than what you’ve anticipated. 

“Have this soup y/n,” Manager Kim’s grating voice came from in front of you, interrupting your inner monologue. “It’s good for your complexion.” 

As Manager Kim hands over the bowl of soup, you feel the sleeve of his blazer brush up against your shoulder, causing the pit of your stomach to drop.

First day nerves. That was what this feeling was. You thought. 

You quietly thanked him with a small nod and walked briskly from the service line, trying to find where Na-eun went with the other two managers. Thankfully, they were just a step away and you quickly made your way over to the comfortable spot beside Na-eun. She gave you a small grin and you both followed your way to a table right in the middle of the room. 

Soon, all five chairs of the table got filled and sounds of chopsticks tapping and scraping against plates and bowls filled your ears. An awkward silence dominates your table as you start to pick at your food. 

“So,” Manager Chen cleared her throat, “after lunch I was thinking we should go to a meeting room and discuss Miss. Y/n’s role in our new project.”

“I was thinking the same for our new Intern Choi.” Manager An cut in, “What do you think, Manager Kim?” 

“It all sounds good. I will be accompanying Manager Chen to her meeting room as I wish to also further discuss the preliminary steps for our project.” Manager Kim looked from Manager Chen over to you. 

“Project?” You ask. 

“We’ve had a very successful year with our idol groups and we wanted to ride this success and start marketing in China. Recently, we’ve noticed a very large and growing Chinese audience for this group. I’m sure you’re very curious now, however we can discuss further details once we are in the meeting room.” Manager Chen replies while taking a sip of the water in her glass. 

Manager Chen appeared to be a very professional and respectable woman. With prominent collarbones and wide shoulders, she easily looked the part of a confident and adored manager. She needed minimal makeup to highlight her tall cheekbones, and even with a short heel on her feet she seemed to tower over you. However, her warm and comforting voice was what broke her intimidating demeanour. Just listening to her voice felt like you were back in your high school classroom with your favourite teacher explaining the motif of a sad love poem. 

After some more awkward conversations mixed with a few work discussions, the five of you finished the delicious food on your trays. 

“Please excuse me whilst I head to the restroom” Na-eun spoke up after your group finished clearing the table. 

“Please excuse me as well.” You quickly followed, bowing as you both ventured off to the washrooms. 

I should get her number so I’m not completely a loner in this place, you thought to yourself. And so, after a quick inner struggle to speak up, you finally decided to ask. 

“Hey, should we exchange contacts? I don’t wanna look like the newbie eating in the cafeteria alone after today.” You chuckled. 

“Totally!” Na-eun beamed. “I was actually thinking the same thing…” 

And so, you both quickly exchanged each other's contact as you made your way to the restrooms. 

The hall of the washrooms were narrow, hidden away from the main cafeteria. You walked in, deciding you only wanted to retouch your hair and makeup before your first official meeting. You carefully fix the loose hairs that somehow escaped the confines of your elastic and dab on a fresh layer of foundation before applying your lipstick which rubbed off while eating. Looking over at Na-eun, you see she’s quite in the zone redoing her mascara. 

“Hey, I’ll just wait for you in the hall.” You said. 

Na-eun gave you a disinterested nod back as she kept focusing on her mascara. 

You walked to the end of the hall, leaned against the wall, and pulled out your phone. Smiling, you opened the virtual Tamagotchi app and saw your little friend staring back at you, bouncing up and down. The bundle of virtual pixels happily bounced as you fed and bathed it, making you happier in return. Playing this game, you were so entranced with your phone that the abrupt closing of the washroom doors broke you out of your hypnosis fast, causing you to flinch and drop your phone. 

You looked up, only to see a brown haired man wearing a long sleeved black shirt. The hem of his sleeve fell, covering his hand as he bent down to pick up your phone. He stood back up, fully facing you now and you immediately recognized who he was. You weren’t a fool, of course you did all your research on the artists of JYPE before applying for the job. Looking down at you right now, holding your phone in his hand, was Bang Chan of Stray Kids. 

The wispy tufts of his brown hair bounced over his forehead as he stepped over to you. He smiled, his dimple poking out of his cheek, and handed your phone back to you. “I think you dropped this.”  

Blushing tomato red, you embarrassingly accepted the phone, trying not to make your shaking hands noticeable. It seemed like that failed, however, as you noticed him glance at your hands and dimple grow deeper. 

“Thank you.” You meekly chirped and lowered your head, still in awe that you somehow bumped into a JYPE idol in the bathroom hallway of a cafeteria. 

“It’s good that there’s no cracks.” Bang Chan said, looking in your eyes. 

You looked back into his eyes. His smile never left his face, and you physically felt the warmth radiating off his body like rays from the sun. Some boring, objective part of your brain knew this interaction only lasted a fraction of a second, but you swore that time froze.

“Hyung!” A distant voice called. 

Your trance was broken as Bang Chan looked over to the person calling his name. He turned back to you, politely bowed, and casually sauntered over to the man who called him. 

What just happened? Your inner monologue ran, still trying to process the embarrassing interaction. The scent of his cologne lingered, swirling the atmosphere around your body. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on this interaction as Na-eun finally opened the washroom doors and was making her way toward you. 

You and Na-eun trailed behind the managers until you reached the set of elevators. It was there where you had to unfortunately separate from your comfort work buddy as she hopped in the elevator across from yours with Manager An. The other two managers led you to the elevator at the end and pressed the button for your destination floor. The ride in the elevator was silent. You stood there, fiddling with your nails. 

Once the elevator gave the ding of arrival, the three of you headed down a hall where you presumed had the meeting room. 

Manager Kim took a look at the watch on his wrist. “We are a minute late, everybody should be there already. Enter silently and respectfully.” He said in a stern voice.

You reached the frosted glass door of the meeting room and entered through the already opened door. The managers followed behind you with Manager Chen being the last one in and closing the door. 

Your eyes widened at whom you saw.

There was Bang Chan, who sat in all his glory, staring right into your eyes with his mouth ajar. His shocked expression didn't last long, however, as he quickly composed himself to fit with the professional atmosphere of this room. 

But why was he here? You thought. He’s an artist, isn’t this a management meeting? 

Your inner monologue was broken by Manager Kim’s stern voice. “Y/n, why don’t you sit with me for today?” He asked with a slight tilt of the lips. His hand was hovering above your back, almost guiding you to the seat just right of the head chair. 

Your heart rate quickened. There was no way that you could handle sitting right beside a high position manager on your first day. You barely knew what your duties entailed, you definitely could not handle the pressure of this seat today. You whipped your head around to look for Manager Chen. She was already sitting in her seat, looking like she was right at home. 

“Manager Kim, if you don’t mind, I would like to sit in this position for today, '' a voice spoke up, “I have a lot of new ideas I’d like to share that are written in my notes.” 

Bang Chan.

He paused a brief second, eyes switching between you and Manager Kim, and raised his iPad to show the screen filled with words. 

“I don’t mind at all, go ahead.” Manager Kim monotonously replied. He then made his way to the head chair. 

You looked over at Bang Chan, trying to subtly send the most grateful facial expression over to him. He returned your look, slightly grinning as his fingers tapped on the screen of his iPad and sat down to the right of Manager Kim. You looked over to see Manager Chen gesturing you to sit in the chair beside her and swiftly made your way over. At your seat, she handed you a notepad and pen, both adorned with the JYPE logo. 

“Now, as of 1:02 p.m., September first, the meeting will officially begin.” Manager Kim clasped his hands together on top of the table. “As most of you already know, we are in the preliminary stages of planning a Chinese debut for our artist group ‘Stray Kids’. All we have right now is the estimated timeline, which is four months. We have a basic grasp of the concept we are working towards, however, as you all know, trends are always changing and growing. While we are working to create a new and original concept for Stray Kids, we also want the concept to gather as much audience reception as possible.” 

Wow. That was a lot to take in. Your hands struggled to keep up with writing down what Manager Kim was saying. You knew this relatively new group was really starting to explode in the past year, but a debut in another country? This group must work really hard to even have the company consider a step as risky as this. So this is why Bang Chan is also involved in this meeting. 

You peaked your head up from your notepad. Bang Chan sat across from you, one hand on his chin and the other one holding the pen to his tablet. 

Manager Kim then carefully discussed the duties that each group in the room would take. Many of the jobs were directly involved with developing the concept itself, such as producing music, concept art, and theme development. Your pen never took a break from gliding on the notepad as you hurriedly jotted down everything that Manager Kim said. 

Eventually, Manager Kim’s delegations moved to Manager Chen. “Manager Chen, I’ll let you take over from here.” 

“Thank you Manager Kim,” Manager Chen cleared her throat. “While my main job here was to market Korean comebacks towards the Chinese audience, this new project changes things up a bit. Now, not only will I be in charge of marketing to the Chinese audience, but I will also be directly in charge of the concept itself. I will be working carefully with our team in China to monitor the trends which we can incorporate into our debut.

“This is my new assistant, y/n,” She turned and gestured to you. You politely nodded your head. “She will be gathering information on useful trends and reporting back to me, as well as some translating. Please report any ideas that you deem useful to her by the end of every week for her to sort through and deliver to me.” 

You almost want to call Manager Chen crazy for giving you so much power, after all, you were only starting out as her assistant. Despite this, however, you were determined to go above and beyond with the new responsibilities given to you, after all, you knew that choosing to work in an organization as big as JYPE would take blood, sweat, and tears. 

After some clarifications given by Manager Chen and a few more questions directed at her, Manager Kim took the reins back in his hands. 

“Now, as I’m sure you all know, this is Bang Chan: the leader of Stray Kids. Although our management team is in charge of this debut, we like to include the opinions of artists whenever possible. He will make an appearance whenever he can and act as a representative of Stray Kids, sharing their ideas and opinions.” Manager Kim explained. 

Bang Chan politely introduced himself, and quickly went on to express some concerns of his members. He made sure that each concern was answered thoroughly by Manager Kim before moving on to the next. 

“As for our concept ideas,” Bang Chan’s soft brown eyes met yours, “will I have to report to y/n?” 

You felt your ears redden. 

“You could, yes,” Manager Kim straightened his back, “but if you find the weekly deadlines too much of a problem, you may just report to me or at any subsequent meeting.” 

“No worries sir,” Bang Chan’s eyes lingered on yours for a fraction of a second more before grinning at Manager Kim, “I’m always punctual.”  

The rest of the meeting consisted of more introductions and preliminary plans. After about an hour, everybody seemed satisfied with the contents of the meeting and were starting to pack up all their clutter on the table. You looked over at Manager Chen, silently asking what should I do next? 

Manager Chen smiled. “Let's head to my floor. I can give you a quick tour, you can get settled at your desk. I have some paperwork that I’m almost done with; I’m sure you’ll have no problem finishing it for me.” She already was standing up and straightening over the creases of her jacket. 

You stood up as well and followed behind Manager Chen like a lost baby duckling. You both made your way over to Manager Kim to bid farewell. You politely thanked him, said your goodbyes, and were about to leave when he stopped the two of you. 

“Manager Chen, let’s go out for drinks tonight.” Manager Kim took a look at the intricate watch on his wrist. “With our whole team, of course. It’ll be a welcoming night and we can get to know the people on our team better.” 

“That’s a great idea, Manager Kim,” Manager Chen nodded at his idea in approval. She turned on her iPad to quickly get a glimpse at her schedule. “What do you think y/n? Can you make it tonight? I know this is very last moment, but I think it’ll be a great opportunity for you to get to know your coworkers better.” 

“I should be able to make it.” You definitely could make it. You had no plans anyways. 

“Am I invited to this top secret party you’re all having?” A now very distinguishable voice came from behind you. Bang Chan stared at Manager Kim with a very mischievous expression. 

“Would your manager allow it?” Manager Kim questioned, knitting his eyebrows. 

“I’m on a diet, so I can’t drink alcohol or eat anything,” Bang Chan’s nose scrunched up in annoyance, “but I want to be as involved as I can. Just because I’m an idol doesn’t mean I can’t help behind the scenes as well.”

“Very well,” Manager Kim nodded with a fixed expression, “Let’s all meet at that restaurant about a block away west. I’ll go tell the others.” And with that, Manager Kim left you, Manager Chen, and Bang Chan to stand in awkward silence. 

“Well,” Bang Chan cleared his throat and clapped his hands together, “I’ll get going as well to do some work now, but it was nice meeting the both of you.” 

“You as well.” Manager Chen replied for the both of you and Bang Chan left soon after. 

Manager Chen then led you to the elevators again and you headed up yet another few floors to reach your destination. You nervously fiddled with your hair as you silently waited behind your boss, looking up at the smooth lines of her blazer every few seconds. The elevator doors dinged, letting you know of its arrival. The two of you swiftly headed out the elevators and walked to what you presumed was Manager Chen’s office area. You kept following behind Manager Chen in silence before you stopped in front of a set of doors that looked identical to the ones at the previous meeting room. Manager Chen opened the doors for you, and you headed in. 

You paused a step in, looking wide-eyed at the interior. The office was clean. A big glass desk sat right in the middle of the vast room in front of a huge set of windows. There were a couple of soft looking chairs placed right before the desk with a huge rug right underneath it. Over to your left, you spotted a water dispenser with a kettle right beside it. You stared at the room a bit longer before realizing you must have looked very stupid with that astonished look on your face. 

“Is this your office, Manager Chen?” You asked. 

“Yes. It seems that you like it,” She chuckled. You felt the heat rise to your ears. 

“Since you’ll be working so close to me, I’m sure you’ll be happy to come here more often.” 

“Thanks.” You awkwardly laughed. You blamed your bad response on the fact that you still weren’t familiar with the language, not your blatant awkwardness. 

Manager Chen made her way over to her desk, picking up a small stack of papers. “These are some letters I’ve received from several designer companies in China. Since we are still in the very preliminary stages of this project, we would like to keep our options open for the stylists here.” She picks an annotated letter from the pile. “I’ve translated and created a summary of the main points of this letter. There are a few more left which I believe I can trust you with. Just do as I did with this letter and add the sample pictures along with it.”

You quickly complied, taking the stack of papers from her hands. 

“I’ll show you to your new work space.” She led you out of your office and over to a cubicle that wasn’t too far away. It was considerably smaller compared to Manager Chen’s office, but you thought it had a certain coziness to it. Plus, working close to your coworkers could also boost your motivation. “Here is your desk, it’s not the most exciting thing, but you may bring photos or whatnot to decorate it. Now, I’ll let you settle in and get started on your work. You can meet me at my office around six, I can double check your work before we leave.” 

You thanked her before she left and immediately got started on your work. You diligently translated the whole of the letters before picking out the main points that matched with Manager Chen’s example. After this was done, you included the photos that came with each letter and slipped them into their own cozy folder. This work was monotonous, sure, but it was something you needed on your hectic first day here. 

You were so captivated by your work that you completely forgot about the time. The sun was starting to set, and you only remembered to look at the time after you tucked your last letter neatly in its folder. You briefly panicked, praying that you weren’t making your manager wait. Thankfully, it was only a quarter until six. You took the next fifteen minutes double checking your work, making sure to also check the time every once in a while. At exactly six, you left your desk and scurried over to the big doors of Manager Chen’s office. 

Knocking a couple times, you waited patiently to be let in. 

“Come in.” 

You let yourself in, handing the papers to your manager, then sat quietly in one of the chairs before her desk, crossing your fingers together. You fiddled with your thumbs, patiently waiting for Manager Chen to speak up. 

“Not bad, this is some decent work.” Manager Chen announced as soon as she finished glossing over your work. “I’ve noted some places that you can either fix or improve. I’ll scan them and hand you a copy tomorrow.” 

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. A tidal wave of relief washed over you as you let yourself relax further into your chain. Not bad, this is some decent work. You proudly repeated this moment in your brain. Although you were disappointed with the mistakes that you let slip through, to get somewhat of a compliment on your first day meant a lot to you. 

“Shall we get going now?” Manager Chen asked. 

You grabbed your bag and stood up. “I’ll let you lead the way.” 

                                                         _______

It seemed like all you were doing on your first day was following Manager Chen around like a lost puppy. The situation right now was no exception either, as you tried to copy her confident strides over to the restaurant a block down. You watched the busy rush hour streets and sidewalks fill with people, some people going home after a long day, some people going to party just like you.

Soon, after a few more minutes of walking, the both of you arrived at the small wooden doors of the restaurants. It seemed like the both of you were a bit late as Manager Kim was already waiting in front of the entrance with the rest of the team. Bang Chan was also there, head down looking at his phone. 

“Sorry we’re late, have you been waiting for long?” Manager Chen somehow sounded confident despite making everybody wait on her.

Her voice seemed to have caught everybody’s attention. You watched as Bang Chan swiftly turned his head up from his phone, his eyes making contact with yours. You immediately focused your eyes somewhere else, trying to casually play off the fact that your eyes subconsciously drifted to him. 

“We’ve only been waiting for a couple minutes.” Manager Kim gave a tight smile. “Let’s go in before you all get too cold.” 

Your little group of around ten people slowly entered the doors, filling the restaurant. Manager Kim called over a waitress, signaling that you had ten people in your group, and let the waitress lead you all to a long wooden table. 

The restaurant was nice, nothing too fancy, but that’s how you could tell the food was good. With dim lighting and tightly packed tables, it made you feel fuzzy and warm on the inside. 

However, your thoughts on the restaurant were soon broken by a hand on your shoulder. 

“Y/n, why don’t you sit with me?” Manager Kim’s lips curled up, “After all, this is a work gathering, how good of a boss would I be if I didn’t even treat my newest team member to a drink?” 

Your brain was in shambles. You seriously didn’t feel comfortable sitting with him all night. However, the logical side of your brain was saying something different. He’s just being nice as a boss. You don’t know how people in this country act anyways, stop being paranoid. 

It seemed like your inner turmoil was taking longer than necessary, as you heard another familiar voice speak up. 

“Manager Kim-” Bang Chan called out. 

“You don’t need to sit with me here, Bang Chan.” Manager Kim chuckled as he stared directly in Bang Chan’s eyes. “I’d rather not talk about work outside the office.”

You watched as Bang Chan’s eyebrows furrowed, looking back to you in reluctance. You smiled at him before turning your attention to Manager Kim. It was just one night, right? Plus, there’s no harm in establishing a good impression with your boss. 

“I’ll sit with you, Manager Kim.” You smiled, “thanks for offering.”

And so, you took your seat next to Manager Kim at the table. Bang Chan, who was to your left, looked askance at Manager Kim for a brief second before his facial expression did a complete 180. His familiar, boy-ish smile was plastered on his face like it was the most natural thing. 

When the menus came, everybody at the table — including you — started to order onslaughts of food and alcohol. After brief moments of casual chatter about topics such as the weather or how good the food was here, everything that was ordered arrived at your table.

You grabbed a can of beer and started sipping on it. You’ve drank before — of course — with your old friends at university, but it’s been at least a year since you last did. Better ease myself in. You thought. 

However, your preconceived plans were ruined when a small glass of clear liquor got pushed in front of you. 

“Y/n, surely you aren’t going to sip on that can all night.” The ends of Manager Kim’s lips curled up. 

“Wasn’t planning to, sir.” You replied while tipping the glass up and into your mouth. The bitter liquid burned your throat as it went down. You took a moment to recollect your surroundings. Seems like your tolerance was higher than you thought. 

“Bang Chan, do you not drink? Why not eat something then?” Manager Chen pointed to the food on the table. 

“No can do ma’am, I’m on a strict diet. My manager would kill me.” Bang Chan pointed to his glass of water. 

“In that case,” Manager Chen filled another glass, “Y/n, have another drink.” She slid the glass down the table in front of you. 

You gladly accepted your second drink, downing the alcohol in one go. Your eyes instinctively squeezed together as you felt your throat burn. From the tips of your ears to the ends of your toes, your whole body felt warm and alive. 

You lost track of the time. As your conversations got livelier, your head got fuzzier. You stopped counting your drinks after four, especially since so many people were eager to offer the new employee a drink. Although your vision was starting to blur, you could still think straight. I can still think, you thought to yourself, still — what a powerful buzz.

Your thoughts ran rampant in your mind as you stared at the lightbulb across the room. What a pretty light. So bright. Warm. 

“Y/n.”

Was the light calling your name? 

“Y/n!” 

Your eyes focused again and snapped away from the lightbulb. Where was the voice coming from? You slowly turned your head. Bang Chan.

“Hi.” You smiled. 

“Hi.” He smiled back. So bright. Warm. “It’s been hours and I haven’t even offered you a drink yet.” 

You tried to focus your eyes on his face as he slid the glass over to you. One more drink wouldn’t hurt your buzz, right?  

You gladly accepted, slowly moving your hand over to the glass to pick the clear liquid up. It went down in one go just like all the others. 

Huh? Was this water? 

You struggled to focus your eyes on the person who offered you the drink. “That was yummy.” 

“I bet it was,” the talking blur chuckled, “How about another one?”

You nodded, then took the glass he slid towards you. It’s funny how water flows even when in a cup. Water. You needed to pee. 

“Hey,” your words dragged out, “where’s uh, where’s the washroom?”

“Follow me. I’ll show you.” Manager Kim stood up and reached his hand out towards you. You didn’t want to take it, but it seemed like nobody was noticing his offer. 

Reluctantly, you took his hand and stood up, only to stumble down again. Did your knees not want to listen? 

“Whoa there, better hold on.” Manager Kim said. 

“No, I can walk. I-I can walk.” You let go of Manager Kim and tried to focus all your brainpower on moving your feet in a straight line. This tactic only worked for a second, however, as your knees gave in and you stumbled down. 

“It’s obvious that you can’t.” Manager Kim’s lips turned up. “It’s time for you to go home. I’ll take you back.” 

What? No. You didn’t want Manager Kim to take you home, not after all the awkward events of today and the general vibe from him. You tried to express your thoughts, but nothing came out of your mouth. 

“Manager Kim, you’ve been drinking!” Bang Chan’s voice came from some part of the room. “It’s not safe to drive, I’ll call a taxi for you.” 

“What about Y/n here? I’ll get a taxi for us both.” Manager Kim said. 

“I called my manager earlier to pick me up, we can drop her off along the way. It’s not a good idea to put two drunk people in a car. I’m completely sober right now, so let me do all the work.” Bang Chan grinned, patting Manager Kim on his shoulder. 

“Is that what you want, Y/n?” Manager Kim glared. 

You dizzily nodded. 

“Alright. In that case, I can call my own taxi later.” Manager Kim grimaced. 

“Stay safe, Manager Kim.” Bang Chan smiled. He turned to you. “My manager’s been waiting outside for a while now, do you want to leave now?” 

You nodded. You tried to start walking again, but your damn knees just wouldn’t listen. 

“Do you want to hold on to me?” Bang Chan knitted his brows together and held out an arm.

“I,” you slurred, “can walk.” You tried to start your feet again, only to end up stumbling down. 

“I know you can,” Bang Chan said as he reached his hands out to stabilize you, “but — ah —  I’m really tired after today. Can you hold on to my arm so I won’t fall out of exhaustion?” 

You agreed to help him. Bang Chan waved to everybody still at the table before leading the two of you out to a black SUV. He allowed you to stumble your way in the back seats first before sliding in himself. He asked you for your address, which took many tries for you to accurately type it into his phone. 

You leaned your head against the window, staring at passing blurred lights as Bang Chan’s manager started driving. Just being away from the loud and bright environment seemed to have cleared your head a little, but the pounding would not stop. You cursed yourself for being so irresponsible on your first day, especially because you were still alone in this new country.   

“Hey,” you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, “want some water?” You looked over to see Bang Chan holding out a plastic bottle with the lid screwed off. 

You languidly reached your hand out for the bottle and gulped down as much water as you could in one breath before handing it back to him. The street lights started getting blurrier as you tried to fight exhaustion, the muscles in your eyelids starting to get more and more uncontrollable. 

“Y/n.” 

“Hmm?”

“Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re almost there. Ten more minutes.” 

You couldn’t hear anything after that, however, as you felt your eyes give up on you and your body fall into a deep sleep. 

“Y/n… Y/n.” A familiar voice called.

You fluttered your eyes open, your head pounding. Not knowing where you were, you surveyed your surroundings in a panic. It seemed as though you were in the back of a car… Parked outside of your apartment building? 

“Hey, you’re finally awake.” Bang Chan’s voice entered your ear. It all came rushing back to you; the restaurant, the drinking, entering the SUV. 

“How long have we been parked here?” Your groggy voice sounded inhuman. You had to clear your throat a couple times. 

“It’s only been twenty or so minutes. I’m not allowed to leave the car, are you able to get home alone? I can ask my manager to go with you.” Bang Chan scratched the back of his neck. 

“I should be fine.” You mumbled, a bit embarrassed to have fallen asleep in the car of a person you just met that day. This wasn’t even his car, it was his manager’s. 

“Hey… can I put my number in your phone?” Bang Chan avoided your eyes. “Just so you can tell me when you get home.” He quickly added. 

“Okay.” You awkwardly handed him your phone with your contacts already opened. He quickly typed his phone number in before handing it back to you. 

“Text me when you get home. Remember to lock your door, okay?” 

You thank both him and his manager before hurrying back to your apartment. Your head was still pounding unrelentlessly as you pressed the elevator button for your floor. The events of today were still unprocessed in your brain. You met a potential friend, which was a highlight. However, you also met two higher up managers and an actual idol, only to get hilariously drunk in the presence of. At least it’ll make a good story to tell my mom. You thought. 

In no time, you made it in your apartment and locked the door behind you, remembering what Bang Chan told you in the car. You texted the new number in your phone. 

Y/n: Hi. It’s y/n. I just entered my apartment.

Not even a minute later, your phone lit up, signaling a new text message. 

Bang Chan: great!! remember to lock the doooor hahaha ( ◕ω◕✿ )

You subconsciously grin at your phone. Cute. Throwing your phone haphazardly on your bed, you begrudgingly began your night routine. After washing up and throwing on a random shirt from your closet, you fell on your bed ready to sleep. You were about to close your eyes when your phone lit up again with a ding. It was another text.

Bang Chan: Hey… Just so you know, if you ever feel unsafe around the office just tell me okay? I’ll always try to help you in whatever way I can.

[trini-trin-trin]

Sharing this from a FB group that I am in. I was very moved by the article and felt affinity with the experiences shared. A really sweet read.

Here is the article if you don't want to click on the link (I know it is a little long, but well worth your time to read!):

The letter I received ten years ago was unsigned and bore no return address. Clearly its author did not expect, much less want, a reply. A message in a bottle, from no one to no one, that letter still remains the most bizarre form of communication. It asks nothing but to be read, promises nothing but to share a few facts and feelings, and, seeing that it must have been dashed off on a lined yellow sheet that seemed hastily torn out of a pad of paper, the author would not be surprised if, after skimming through it, the recipient decided to crumple and lob it into the closest dust bin.

The letter is one page long. One page is enough. The handwriting is uneven, perhaps because the author had lost the habit of writing in longhand and preferred the keyboard. But his grammar is perfect. The man knew what he was doing. I assume he was writing the note by hand because he didn’t want traces of it on his laptop, or because he knew he was never going to send it as an email and risk a reply. Now that I think of it, he probably didn’t care if it even reached its recipient, a local Bay Area reporter who had mentioned my novel about two young men who fall in love one summer in Italy in the mid-1980s. The reporter eventually forwarded it to me, minus its envelope with the postmark. It took no time to see that all the author of the letter was looking for was a chance to blurt out the words he couldn’t dare breathe elsewhere.

My book had spoken to him. His letter spoke to me.

So here it is: dated April 16, 2008.

I came upon Mr. Aciman’s book while on a business trip back East. Not the type of book I am normally able to read, so I bought a copy for the flight home. I think I’m glad I did.

You see, I was Elio. I was 18 and my Oliver was 22. Though the time and place were different, the feelings were remarkably the same. From believing that you are the only person who has these feelings, to the whole “he loves me – he loves me not” scenario, Mr. Aciman got it right. I was particularly impressed with the attention he gave to the morning after Elio’s and Oliver’s first encounter. The guilt, the loathing, the fear. I felt it too much. I had to put the book down for a while.

But in the end I was able to finish the book before we landed at SFO. Which was good, because I couldn’t take the book home. Unlike Elio it was I who married and had children. My Oliver died from AIDS in 1995. I’m still living a parallel life. My name is not important. His name was Dwight.

Instead, I kept the letter. I kept it for ten years.

What moved me was not just its sobering matter-of-factness or its hint of downplayed sorrow, but the associations it provoked in my mind. It reminded me of those short, clipped messages to loved ones, written by people about to be shipped off to the death camps who knew they’d never be heard from again. There is a chilling immediacy about their hurriedly scribbled notes that say everything there is to say in the fewest possible words — there wasn’t enough time for more, no smarmy pieties, no hand-wringing, no treacly hugs and kisses before the tragic end. It also made me think of the moving phone messages left by those who finally realized they were not going to make it out alive from the Twin Towers and that only their family’s answering machine was going to take their call.

“My name is not important,” he writes, almost as an apology for remaining anonymous; yet the author drops quite a number of hints about himself — hints he likely knows will stir his reader’s wistful curiosity to know what made him write the letter in the first place, what he hoped to accomplish, and if writing did indeed help. The letter itself allows us to see that he travels for business. We also sense that he probably lives in the Bay Area and that he travels not infrequently to the East Coast, since, as he writes, he is “back” in the East. And we know one thing more: that he simply needed to come out and tell someone that a man called Dwight had been his lover when the two were young. The rest is a cloud. We’ll never know more. Writing has served its purpose. We write, it seems, to reach out to others. Whether we know them or not doesn’t matter. We write to put out into the real world something extremely private within us, to make real what often feels unreal and ever so elusive about ourselves. We write to give a shape to what would otherwise remain amorphous. This is as true about authors as about those who want to correspond with them. Over the years, many have written to me either after reading or seeing Call Me by Your Name. Some tried to meet me; others confided things they’d never told anyone; and some even managed to call me at the office and, on speaking about my novel, would eventually apologize before bursting out crying. Some were in jail; some were barely adolescents, others old enough to look back at loves seven decades past; and some were priests locked in silence and secrecy. Many were closeted, others totally out; some were widows who felt a resurgence of hope if only by reading about the loves of two young men called Elio and Oliver in Italy; some were very young girls eager to meet their long-awaited Oliver; and some recalled former gay lovers whom they’d occasionally bump into years later but who’d never acknowledge what they’d once shared and done together when both were schoolmates and neither was married. All were keenly aware of living a parallel life. In that parallel life things are as they perhaps should be. Elio and Oliver still live together. And no one has secrets there.

Unlike Dwight’s lover, everyone who took the time to write to me did not withhold their names, but all had, at one point or another, withheld something very primal. They withheld it from themselves, from a relative, from a friend, a classmate, or colleague, or from a beloved who would never have guessed what troubled longings seethed below their averted gaze whenever they crossed paths.

Some readers wrote to tell me they felt that my novel had changed them, and given them new insights into themselves; some felt it was urging them finally to turn a new leaf in their lives. But some couldn’t go so far and, despite their perfect command of language, confessed lacking the words to explain why they were so moved by my novel or why they felt an unresolved longing for things they’d never considered or desired before. They were experiencing an upwell of emotions and of ungraspable might-have-beens that were asking to be reckoned with because they seemed more real than life itself, a sense of themselves that beckoned from an opposite bank they’d never known was there and whose potential loss now was a source of inconsolable grief. Hence their tears, their regrets, and the overpowering sense of being lost in their own lives.

And yet, they said, theirs were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of recognition, as though the novel itself were a mirror for readers to watch their own emotions laid bare before them. These responses made me aware that Call Me by Your Name does not call attention to anything readers didn’t already know, nor does it bring new truths or revelations; all it does is shed new light on things that were long familiar but that they never took the time to consider. It would be so tempting to say that they are reminded of their forgotten first loves; the truth is that all loves, even those that occur late in life, are first loves. There is always fear, shame, reluctance, and not a tiny dose of spite. Desire is agony.

Everyone who’s read Call Me by Your Name understands not only the struggle both to speak and hold back their truth but also the shame that comes whenever we want something from someone. Desire is always cagey, always secretive — we’ll tell everyone we know about the person we crave to hold naked in our arms, but the very last one to know this will be the person we crave. Same-sex desire is even more guarded and watchful, especially in those who are just discovering their sexuality. Awkwardness and desire are strange bedfellows at a young age, but shame and inexperience are just as paralyzing as fear when we watch them tussling with the urge to be bold. You’re torn between the raw horniness that makes you dream scenes you hope to forget as soon as you’re up and the scenes you pray you’ll dream again and again — if dreams are all you’ll have. Silence and solitude exact a cost that leaves us emotionally wrecked. At some point we need to speak.

So “is it better to speak or die?” asks Elio, the narrator of Call Me by Your Name, quoting words penned by the sixteenth-century Marguerite de Navarre in her collection of tales known as The Heptameron. Marguerite was the sister of King Francis I and the grandmother of Henry IV, himself the grandfather of Louis XIV, hence she was plenty familiar with court intrigue, gossip, and the risks of opening up to someone who may not welcome what’s in our heart and could easily make us pay for it. Not everyone who has written to me has dared to speak their hearts to those they loved. Some have sought silence — slow, lingering droplets of quiet desperation taken every night before bedtime until they realize they’ve been dead and didn’t even know it. Many have written to me with the feeling of having missed their chance when someone tethered his rowboat to their jetty and simply asked them to jump in. “Some sentence or thought on almost every page,” writes a reader, “triggers tears and knots my throat and chest. Tears well up in my eyes on the subway, at my computer at work, walking down the street. Perhaps I am weeping in part because I know that at my age there is virtually no possibility of experiencing anything remotely comparable to what Elio experiences with Oliver.” Someone else writes, “Reading Call Me by Your Name made me feel a love I never had.” A happily married 50-plus colleague took me aside and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this much in love in my whole life.” “I'm 23,” tweeted someone else, “and have never felt such love, until I read Call Me by Your Name. I feel like I lived it.” “Elio and I are essentially the same age,” writes a teenage girl. “I have never really experienced his environment of the Italian summer…My experiences have only taken place halfway between nature and smog, however I have felt the same tension, fear, guilt and overwhelming love that you express perfectly through both Elio and Oliver…Finding myself in Elio was something I never expected and I’m positive that I won’t experience anything quite like it ever again. The first girl I ever loved remains…the only girl I have ever loved and though everything she and I shared…lives now as a secret between two friends.” “I finished reading Call Me by Your Name a couple of days ago,” writes someone else, “and wanted to let you know how much it affected me. It felt like a narration of my thoughts that I had systematically buried long ago.” And finally this from a 72-year-old: “I was fascinated by the idea of parallel lives where would I have been if I had gone with him, where would I be if I traveled alone? Maybe the point is just what do I do with the gift you have given me during the remainder of my life.”

There are at least 500 more such letters and emails.

Some find themselves weeping at the end of the film or the novel, not for what happened long ago or for what did not and might never happen in their own lives but for what has yet to happen, for the terrifying moment when they too will soon have to decide whether to speak or die. This from an 18-year-old: “[Your novel] gives me hope that one day I will meet someone whom I desire so badly that I’ll actually find it in me to make a move, the way Oliver is that someone for Elio. Maybe my Oliver will also turn out to be someone that I realize I love as well as desire.” She was crying for a week, as was this 15-year-old young man: “I stopped reading…because I didn’t want [the book] to end, didn’t want the wounds that you caused me to close, I didn’t want to overcome, for some reason that I have yet to find out. I wanted to stay a wreck, emotionally and mentally fragile….My mother handed me tissues because she had never seen me cry like this. I had finished your book and ‘moved’ is too weak a word to express what your book had done to me. Here a week later and it is literally all I can think about, not my midterms coming up, but…Elio and Oliver and if it is better to speak or die. You answered questions I didn’t even think I had.”

Indeed, the whole novel seems to enable the outing of all manner of feelings, feelings from Elio’s relentless inward journey and obsessive self-examination that readers are invited to identify with. Through Elio’s unfettered introspection they too feel exposed and sliced open like a crustacean without a slough, now forced to look at itself in the mirror. No wonder they are moved. The mask that is torn off their faces is not just the mask that conceals same-sex desires from themselves and from others. Rather, it is the realization, through Elio’s voice, of what they truly feel, who they truly are, what they fear, what bears their signature, and what coy little shenanigans they go through to read others and hope to reach them. Some identified with some effusive sentences in my novel so much that they had them tattooed on their bodies. They even attach photos of these tattoos. People have also tattooed peaches on themselves!

But what moves most people — and this is as true now as it was when the novel first came out — is the father’s speech. Here he not only tells his son to nurse the flame and “don’t snuff it out” after his son’s lover has left Italy, but that he too, the father, envies his son’s relationship with a male lover. This speech tears away the last vestige of a veil between reader and truth and is a moving tribute to the irreducible honesty between father and son.

Most readers have written to me about the scene because the father’s speech rekindles the very difficult moment when they decided to come out to their parents — or, as is often the case with people 60, or 70 or older, it reminds them of the conversation they wished they’d had but never did have with their parents. This is the loss no one forgets and from which no one recovers after seeing Call Me by Your Name. It bears the very essence of that precious and life-defining might-have-been moment that never happened and never will.

Here is the speech:

“Look…[y]ou had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, or pray that their sons land on their feet soon enough. But I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out, don’t be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we’d want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything — what a waste!...

“… {L]et me say one more thing. It will clear the air. I may have come close, but I never had what you had. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business. But remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. Most of us can’t help but live as though we’ve got two lives to live, one is the mockup, the other the finished version, and then all those versions in between. But there’s only one, and before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow. I don’t envy the pain. But I envy you the pain.”

I received the anonymous letter sometime in early May 2008. At the time, I was staying at my parents’, because my father was suffering from throat and mouth cancer and was already in hospice care. He had refused radiation and chemotherapy, so I knew his days were numbered; though morphine was clouding his mind, he was still lucid enough to bandy a few quips about a host of subjects. He had stopped eating and drinking water because swallowing had become very painful. One afternoon while I was stealing a nap, the phone rang. A reporter I’d met in California had just received a letter, which she wanted to share with me. I told her to read it over the phone. After she’d read it I asked if she felt she could mail it to me. I wanted to show it to my father, I said, and explained he was dying. She felt for me. We talked about my father for a while. I told her I was trying to make it up to him these days, and that he too had been exceptionally easy to be with. How was it growing up with him? she asked. Tense, I replied. Always is, she added. Then the conversation ended, and she promised to mail the letter soon.

After hanging up, I got out of bed and went in to see him. Over the past few days, I had made a point of reading to him, which he liked a great deal, especially now that he was having difficulty focusing. But rather than read to him the memoirs of Chateaubriand, one of his favorite authors, and feeling buoyed by the letter I’d been read on the phone, I asked if he’d like me to read from the French translation of Call Me by Your Name, the galleys of which I had just received from Paris that very morning. Why not, since you wrote it, he said. He was proud of me. So I began to read from the very beginning, and soon enough I knew I was opening up a subject neither he nor I had ever broached before. But I knew he knew what I was reading and why I was reading it to him. This made me happy. Perhaps it made him happy as well. I’ll never know.

That evening, after the rest of us had dinner, he asked if I could continue reading from my novel. I was nervous about arriving at the father’s speech because I didn’t know how he’d react to it, though he was the kind of father who would have given that very same speech himself. But the speech was two hundred pages away still, and that would have taken many, many days. Perhaps I should skip some parts, I thought. But no, I wanted to read him the whole book. My father didn’t last long enough to hear the father’s speech. And when the letter finally arrived from California, he was already gone. His name was Henri, he was 93 years old, and he inspired everything I’ve written.

[salmonmakiii]

hii! i'd like to request a timestamp if it's okay with you? Could you people write about 3am boyfriend tsukishima, angst to fluff? thank you so much and have an amazing day!! 💕🤗

Heya! Sorry this took long, writer’s block sucks :( I hope this came out nice!

[03:00]

About : Tsukishima x reader Note : Angst, Fluff. Forgive me if I have mistakes!

It was an accident. You and Tsukishima knew that.

But all the pent up stress and those lack of sleep he’s had, being rational was the last thing on his mind right now.

You met Tsukishima 2 years ago when you had just moved to your apartment. He was the next-door neighbor and you would greet him every morning. A few weeks passed and you guys suddenly became friends because you share the same interest; stargazing. The apartment rooftop was perfect for that. You accidentally met up at around 3 am, awkwardly talk with each other, and would go back about an hour later.

You were interested in him and was happy that you finally got the chance to talk. Although you admit, he was a bit cold and snarky with his comments but other than that he was fun to talk to. The next day you met up again, then the next day, then the next, and then the next. This became a regular thing for both of you. Of course, that was before the busy schedule you both had. Now, you’d probably meet up twice or three times a week.

And with that frequent emotional talks, you both grew closer, and eventually, Tsukishima confessed to you one night. So here you were, two years of being together. There were playful insults thrown at each other, but never actual fights. Your favorite was when he would diss you non-stop when you’re not taking care of yourself.

“Can you just eat? I don’t want to drag your ass to the hospital.”

You would often visit him every morning before his class starts and these were one of those mornings. You visit him in his apartment and there you saw his boyfriend, holding his head with his left hand as he held a paper in the other. A thick stack of papers was right in front of him. You’re guessing it was the assignment he’d been working hard on since last week – because he didn’t totally complain to you at all about it for the past week.

“Didn’t you say you have morning classes today?” Tsukishima asked, his eyes not leaving the paper.

“No. The professor called in sick today, so I’m free.” You teased as you sat in front of him. He scoffed and mumbled something about how lucky you are.

“Do you mind if I go get a drink?” You asked, already on your way to the dispenser.

“Sure,”

You gave him a mini thanks and searched for the glass in the cabinets. Once you got it, you filled it with water in the dispenser.

“When is that due?” You asked the glass was now filled. You walked over to him again as he hummed.

“Tomorrow.”

“Ah, okay.”

You sat in front of your boyfriend once again, watching how his eyebrows were furrowed and how he had eye bags under his eyes. You took a sip of your drink and frowned at your dead-looking boyfriend. You wanted to help him, you do, but you don’t know how. You looked at his knitted eyebrows and an idea popped up in your head.

“Kei,” You called. He only answered with a hum. Pouting, you called him once again,

“Kei, Look at me,” Finally lifting his head, you put on a silly face that he always despises, but secretly found funny.

“What are you doing?” he asked, shaking his head as he tried to stifle a laugh. Seeing that it wasn’t good enough, you leaned in closer.

“I don’t know. I just feel like there’s something wrong with my face, is there?” You asked, still making the face. Tsukishima finally laughed and you were happy to see your boyfriend smiling.

You cheered, but while doing so, your hand suddenly knocks the glass of water in front of you, spilling the liquid all over the table. The stacks of paper in the middle soaking up all the water. The room was now dead silent, both of you staring at the stacks of paper and spilled water with wide eyes.

Your look at Tsukishima and the paper, your eyes shaking at the horrifying expression the boy across you had.

“K-Kei-“

“What did you do?” He asked, his voice low.

“I- I accidentally-“

“Did you know how long it took me to print out all these?!” You flinched at his shout and your feet felt like it grew roots. You stared at him, trying to form words to apologize, to calm him down, to reason with him, anything. But all you could do was stare, mouth agape.

Tsukishima walked past you, going to the kitchen to get a towel. He walked right back towards the table and wiped the spilled water.

“Let me help-“

“No. Just-“ He sighed, scrunching the soaked paper in his hands.

“Just get out.” Tsukishima continued to wipe the table, his back now facing you.

His words felt like knives in your chest. There wasn’t a hint of his everyday cynical attitude in his tone at all and you were scared. Afraid of upsetting him more, you bowed a full 90 degrees, mumbling a shaky apologize as you took careful steps out of his apartment.

If anyone were there to see you walk by, they’ll think you just exited from a murder scene.

Back in your apartment, you sat on your couch, still trying to process all of it. You spilled water into his work he’s been doing for a week and he just kicked you out of his apartment without sparing you a glance. You were screwed.

You jump a little when you hear a door slam, you stared at your door.

Kei must be on his way to campus…

After an hour of staring at the ceiling, you mustered the courage to text an apology to him. Shaky hands and eyes a bit watery when you pressed send. Sighing loudly, you lay there on your couch, trying to calm yourself down and think of a way you could make it up to him.

“Can I send it to your email just in case? You know how my laptop is.”

You jolted from your position, eyes wide. The memory of Tsukishima’s voice replayed in your head as you frantically open your laptop. You opened your email and your heart races with excitement as you quickly downloaded the file as you ran to your bedroom to get your USB. Running back to the living room, you hastily plugged in the USB and surprisingly got it in the first time. Copying the file to the USB, you grabbed your jacket, tote bag, wallet, and ejected the USB as you dashed out of your apartment for a copy shop.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

You leaned on the railings on the rooftop as you sighed. The wind softly blowing against your features as you looked down at the almost empty streets below you. Most of the lights in the surrounding buildings were off and the sky wasn’t that dark anymore. The moon was slightly on the west side, still illuminating the night sky. The stars above you twinkling as you’re enveloped in silence. It’s the perfect night.

After you had printed out all the papers, you put it in two clear folders, re-check the order, and finally set it nicely inside Tsukishima’s mailbox. You text him to give him a heads up, but you’re still worried if he even read your texts. You took out your phone from your pocket, the screen telling displaying “03:00”. You opened your lock, the wallpaper – a picture of you and an annoyed, blushing, Tsukishima – made you miss him even more.

You open your message with Tsukishima, he still didn’t read your message.

What if he didn’t see my message? What if he already printed out a new batch of it? What if- huh?

You eyed your message.

Tsukishima had just read it.

Just as you were still confused about what to do with this information, you hear someone clears their throat behind you. You flinched and turned around. Your eyes meeting those familiar golden ones. Tsukishima was staring at you, his face stoic and cold as ever. He was wearing his grey hoodie with a roaring dinosaur in the middle, his hair was a little messy but it looked cute on him.

“K-Kei! I almost had a heart attack!” You held your phone to your chest in hopes to calm your beating heart.

“You’re being dramatic.” He said, walking up to the railing and leaned against it.

“So, I heard you spilled water on someone’s project-“

“Kei-“

“That they worked HARD for,”

You winced, hearing him emphasize. You stared at your boyfriend and he was staring right back at you with his smug face. You looked down and fiddled with your fingers.

Tsukishima felt like he was scolding a puppy. He felt the tiniest guilt, but he didn’t want to let you go that easily.

“I’m guessing that’s why you’re here right now, even though you have an 8 am class tomorrow.” He teasingly scoffed. Usually, his teasing would make you feel less tense but it didn’t seem to be working right now. He sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair.

“Thanks,” His voice was above a whisper.

“Huh?” You snapped your head up in shock. What was he thanking you for?

“I got the package you sent me,” He gave you a side glance.

“But you just read my message?”

“I saw you putting it in my mailbox.”

“Oh,”

There was silence once again. Tsukishima stepped closer and abruptly snaked his hand on your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You looked up at him and you can see the small blush on his cheeks, his eyes were looking at anything but you.

“Sorry about getting mad at you,” He said in a rather gibberish mumbling, but you were glad you could make up what he was saying.

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one who spilled that water.” You said, reaching up your hand to pinch his cheek.

“Besides, stop acting like that, it’s weird.” You pulled his cheeks, riling him up.

“Will you stop that?” He batted your hand away and you laughed at his bashful sight.

“Let’s just go back, it’s freezing up here and I don’t want to take care of you when you catch a cold.” He groaned, his hand still around you as he walked back towards the entrance.

“What makes you think I need you?” You pinched his sides.

“I don’t know. I’m afraid you might flood the whole apartment if I don’t,”

“I told you it was an accident you salty excuse of a human being!”

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll squish you,”

“If you mean squish as in cuddling, then I won’t shut up!”

Tsukishima suddenly leaned in and placed a kiss to your lips. His actions catching you off guard. He plastered on a smirk, seeing that his plan had worked.

“If I talk some more, will you kiss me again to shut me up?” You asked,

“No. I’ll throw you off this rooftop.”

“You wouldn’t-“ Tsukishima gave you a daring glare, his grip on your arm tightens. You shut your mouth immediately and looked forward.

“Okay! Shutting my mouth now.”

You both ended up cuddling in his apartment that night.

[johannstutt413]

(requested by calligomiles)

Ansel walked out of the Doctor’s office, nervous but optimistic. He- no, hang on, they literally just filled out the paperwork together - SHE was now recognized in official documentation and in PRTS as a female, although until the rest of the procedures were successful (which, knowing her co-workers, they would be) her biology and psychology weren’t entirely in agreement on that. Thanks to the support of the rest of Reserve Squad 4, however, the Cautus knew she could be confident in herself. This was right...even if she wasn’t sure what she’d tell her uncle the next time they saw each other. After all, he’d always said she was “the son he’d never had...”

With that mix of hope and trepidation weighing on hi- her, it’s no surprise that she accidentally walked smack into Rosa coming the other way down the hall to the Doctor’s office. “Ah! O-oh, Miss Rosa. My apologies.”

“Oh, I’m fine, Ansel.” The Ursus picked herself up before helping her Cautus collider. “Congratulations are in order, I hope?”

“Congratulations?” The Medic held onto her hand after she’d stood up.

Natalya smiled. “Logistics just got the email to make some changes to your paperwork going forward.”

“Oh, yes.” Ansel blushed. “It’s still a little hard to believe everyone’s okay with it, but everything’s gone well so far. I’m a little nervous about explaining things to my uncle, though.”

“Let me know if you want any help with that. I had to explain to my parents, too.”

The Cautus blinked. “You did? I never would have guessed.”

“I was fortunate they decided my mental health was worth the price.” She immediately regretted reminding herself of her family, but it was for a good cause. “Anyway, here - my phone number. If you need me, for anything at all, and I’m not in the Logistics office, send a message or call me.”

“Thank you, Miss Rosa. Were you going to see the Doctor?” She pulled out her cell phone to add the Ursus to her contacts on the spot.

The Sniper nodded. “I’m delivering a few reports and checking on the rest of the USSGG before I finish my lunch break.”

“Ah, then I won’t keep you.” The Medic put her phone away. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Rosa.”

“You as well, Miss Ansel.” Both smiling, and the Cautus blushing, they went their separate ways.

Ansel spent the next few days (during her breaks) thinking about the inevitable conversation with her uncle, even though the only way that talk would happen was of her own initiative...at least, that’s what she thought until her uncle sent her a text: ‘Hey champ, how’s everything?’

“...*beep beep beep* *whrrrrrr*...Hello?” Natalya yawned on the other side of the line. “I hadn’t considered that you work the night shift.”

“My uncle texted me.”

A brief silence. “Give me five minutes and we can talk in my room.”

“Thank you.” Rosa hung up, leaving the Medic a moment to collect herself before telling Ptilopsis she had to take care of an urgent matter and leaving Medical. ‘I hope I’m not bothering her too much.’

‘I hope she doesn’t mind the mess,’ Natalya thought to herself as she tried to flatten out some of the wrinkles in her pajamas. Having done the best she could, the Ursus put on a kettle for tea and waited for the Cautus to arrive.

Just before the water’d finished boiling, there was a knock on the door. Rosa let her guest in before immediately going for teacups. “I put the kettle on for you, since I think a cup of tea could do us both some good. Any preference?”

“Low caffeine, please.” Ansel halfway collapsed into one of the three dining room table chairs available to her. “I’m sorry to wake you up this late, but I saw the message come in and I just...”

“You’ll never be a bother to me, Ansel, regardless of when your hour of need comes about. Honey?”

The Medic nodded. “Yes, thank- you have honey?”

“My physician prescribed it to me with a firmly regulated dosage, fret not.” She put a single drop in her own tea nonetheless, along with two cubes of sugar, before bringing both cups to the table. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can get you as you think of it.”

“Thank you, Rosa.” No need for the ‘miss’es at this point.

The Ursus took that informality one step further as she blew on her piping-hot drink. “You can call me Natalya, or Nat, or some variation if you like. If you don’t mind me cutting directly to business, you said your uncle texted you?”

“He did.” The Cautus pulled out her phone, opened the message, and set it on the table between them. “It’s a simple enough greeting, but him saying ‘Champ’ brought all the fear back, and I want to tell him. I want him to be happy for me, but...”

“You’re worried he won’t be.” A more than relatable experience for Rosa - she could practically feel the tightness in her chest from her own announcement.

She nodded, sighing as she inhaled some soothing tea-steam. “This does help. Yes, that’s exactly what worries me. I moved in with him originally because my father sent me to him, and since he didn’t have any kids of his own, I was the son he’d never had - or have, in fact. I have a few cousins on his side, but they’re also girls, just, you know.”

“I can see why that would complicate things for you.” The Sniper took a moment to consider her words. “Do you know what you want to say, as in the particular words?”

“I have a message drafted already. More than anything, I guess I just needed to not do this alone.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment as Natalya wiped a stray water droplet from her face. The steam must have precipitated on her face. “I can sit closer, if that would help?”

“...Yes, please.” They both stood up at the same time, hands on the backs of their chairs to move to where the other was seated. Ansel chuckled, and Rosa followed suit. “We’ll meet in the middle, then.”

“If you’d rather, there’s also the couch.” The Ursus pointed over to a loveseat across the apartment flanked by side tables.

The Medic glanced at her cup. “Can I take my tea with me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of disallowing it.” She walked her guest to the more comfortable seat, both with tea in hand, and set hers on the closer side table before settling down. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Mmhmm.” The Cautus took a deep breath, opened her phone...closed it, opened it again, another deep breath, and started typing.

As ‘I’m doing quite well. There is something I need to tell you...’ made its way across the world through the internet, Natalya gently set a hand on Ansel’s shoulder. “You’re doing great.”

“Thanks.” She took another deep breath, noticeably shaking. “Do you think-” *DING!*

“Go ahead.”

The Cautus blinked. “Alright...Here goes everything.” Notes tab, copy, paste, send.

“Now all that’s left is-” *DING!* “Ah. That was quick.”

“Quick, but- oh! He...he must’ve had his message prewritten, too. Did he expect this?...Uh-huh...Uh-huh...Ohhh, really? I had no idea. Wow.” Ansel took a minute or two to type a response before putting her phone away and sighing contentedly.

Rosa, who hadn’t been reading over her shoulder, waited patiently for a moment before asking, “What did he say?”

“Oh, right.” She blushed, invisible in the dim light cast from the dining room. “He said that my oldest cousin, his eldest daughter, recently started hormonal therapy.”

“What a coincidence,” Natalya observed with a smile.

That made the Medic blush harder. “He asked me to keep him posted, and to send Reisen a message, too, because he misses me. I...wow.”

“That’s wonderful.” The Sniper was restraining herself - she’d have shouted from sympathetic joy if it wasn’t so late at night. “I’m glad everything worked out.”

“Me, too.”

Another moment of silence, as the Cautus basked in her victory and the Ursus basked in the radiated satisfaction before eventually taking her hand off Ansel’s shoulder. “Anything you want to do right now?”

“I...Oh, right. It’s one in the morning.” She sighed. “You probably want to go back to bed, I’m guessing?”

“If you need to go, or if-” Rosa caught herself before finishing that thought.

A bit late, though, as Ansel cocked her head. “Or if?”

“No, just that. Now’s not even a remotely appropriate time for that other question.” Natalya’s face now matched the Medic’s, who now realized the incomplete thought in its entirety for herself.

“N-not that I would refuse on principle,” the Cautus managed after some internal deliberation, “but I um...It’s a little unexpected.”

The Sniper grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it. “I should go back to bed. Clearly I left my dignity with my sheets.”

“If that’s what you’d prefer, then I’ll head back to Medical, but I told them not to expect me.”

“You did?” Rosa dropped the pillow and cleared her throat. “Well, then, perhaps, if you’d like, we could maybe, potentially...cuddle?” Why did that word sound so childish right now?

Regardless, it was just about the best one she could’ve chosen. “I would like that.”

“Oh thank goodness.” Natalya lurched to her feet, reaching for Ansel’s hand as she did and finding it. “I’m sorry for being so immodest about this, truly it’s an unenviable position I just sort of thrust you into- not that that’s what I was thinking of when I asked, of course, I just, I, er...perhaps the honey was a mistake after all.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m tired, too.” The Cautus meant it, but there was a smile on her face as she said it that proved that wasn’t the entire story.

Frankly, Rosa was adorable when she was flustered.

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

One Photo → Mark Lee [8]

↳  Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳  AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳  Warning: angst if you squint, I guess

↳  Word count: 2,294

↳  Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | You Are Here! | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WEDNESDAY - 8 TWO YEARS LATER

The heart of Toronto would never compare to the magnificence of Times Square in New York, but the mass amount of billboards by the Eaton Center always managed to send you into awe during your nightly trek home from work. 

You looked up toward the billboards with a sigh as you waited for your streetcar, barely managing to squeeze out a smile as you saw Mark’s visage splayed along one of the electronic spaces. The night sky was too polluted with the city’s light to display any real stars, but Mark’s face was more than enough for you. For the past week, you had seen NCT127’s faces sprawled across that billboard, part of promotions for their latest global comeback. It was a brief respite as you waited for your streetcar home every night, to finally know that the day was over and that you could relax.

It had been such a long time since you’ve seen Mark in person. Even though you texted him every day when the two of you were awake at the same time and video chatted whenever he had five minutes to himself, it always felt depressing to be without him. To not kiss or touch or hug at all was torture.

Everyone knew that it was deadly for soulmates to be apart for so long, that depression would set in and even worse physical illnesses were a real risk. It was hard to be so far away and over the past year you had been let go from multiple jobs because you were constantly sick, and therein lies the problem. You simply couldn’t afford the solution to your problem. So, depression and illness it was. It took everything you had to keep your head above water, to keep your dream alive and know that one day your heart wouldn’t ache as much as it does at the present moment.

After a 20 minute ride on the streetcar, you entered your building and took the stairs up to your little hole-in-the-wall apartment, the bare minimum that you could afford after Rhiannon paid her last half of the old place’s rent. A single bed, bath and a tiny kitchen that housed a little chair and round table. Thankfully, there was enough counter space that you could place a tiny TV to watch Netflix on while you ate. You were lucky that the house had a large living room, which doubled as your studio.

The coffee table was one of the only things left from your old apartment, along with the tote of Marvel films you kept hidden below it. Atop the table now rested all of your cameras, a drawing tablet and cards that you got in the mail from Mark from time-to-time, instead of notes, binders and textbooks. Sitting against the wall across from the table was a small bookshelf and an easel with a large frame sitting on it, housing the last portrait you finished the night before, ready to be shipped to the buyer.

After… somewhat enjoying a quick pot of white cheddar mac & cheese and watching a rerun of Supernatural on your little TV, you head into your room and sit at the desk next to your bed. After starting your computer, you opened up discord and sat back in your wheely chair, waiting for Rhiannon’s status to change to green. Wednesday was the day that she had to be up early for her job, so that meant time for a 10-minute call before you went to bed and she went to work. 

Next to your computer was a copy of the photo you took two years ago, of your soulmate and all his friends beneath the shedding cherry trees in High Park. You smiled at it, the memory was fond but now faint in your mind. You reached forward to pick it up, but you stopped yourself. You knew that if you inspected the photo more, you’d only miss Mark and all your friends more. 

There were times where your apartment became so quiet that it reminded you how alone you really were. You had lived with Rhiannon most of your life, and that meant there was at least some noise going on at all times. Whether she had her headset unplugged when she was listening to music or watching youtube videos, she was clattering about when helping you wash and dry the dishes, or if she was walking around and tripped on nothing. She was always talking, laughing, or doing something that always let you know that she was there. Now, you had nothing.  

The silence is broken and you’re startled by the calling sound from discord, Rhiannon’s icon popping up on the top of your screen. You place your hand on your mouse and click the join call button, adjusting the webcam perched on the top of your desktop monitor. 

"Hey," Rhiannon was the first to speak, yawning and reaching back to pull her hair into a perfect, tight ponytail. 

"Hey," you respond, watching her closely and leaning your chin on your right palm. "How are you holding up?"

"I should be asking you that, Jesus, you look like the Hulk if he got the swine flu," she retorts, and even through the grainy quality you can tell she has sympathy written all over her face. "I'm doing great, we've got two cleanings today and a wisdom teeth removal, so that'll be fun." 

You scoff and attempt to smile, "I'm fiiiiine, other than the fact that I'm here and you're there, 13 hours in the future and at least one ocean in between us and an entire continent and a half. I'd say that constitutes abandonment."

"I got the getting while it was good and you know that," she stuck her tongue out at you. "You need to keep saving so that you can fly your ass out here." She squinted at the screen. "You really need to drink like… an entire bottle of nyquil, dude."

"If only it were that easy," you groan. "I don't even have a photographer's position yet. All I get is sitting at a desk and responding to emails… even with my head start, I can't find a good job and I barely make enough to keep living in Toronto." You stick out your tongue back at her for the nyquil comment. "As if I haven't been hiding a bottle of dayquil in my desk for the past week."

Rhiannon stopped what she was doing and leaned toward her camera. "You know why you can't get the jobs you want," her voice is soft, empathetic. "Mark is having trouble, too. He's been doing a lot of half days, so I don't know how they plan to do their tour with him being constantly sick." 

You looked away. "I can't afford to take any more time off… I don't want to lose this job. If I do, I'm not sure that I'll be able to make my rent."

"You're going to need to take time eventually,” Rhiannon stated firmly. "If you don't get at least some of your strength back you're going to end up in the hospital like I did. Remember?" 

You glanced back at your screen, watching Donghyuck wander around in the backdrop. You were beyond jealous that they got to live together. 

"Maybe. I just miss you. More than I miss having a clear passageway in my nose." 

Rhiannon smiled sadly at you. "I miss you too, everyone does. You'll be here soon, I promise. I gotta go, sleep well and drink plenty of water, okay?"

"Okay." 

Rhiannon waved at you before her screen went dark, ending the call. The call was shorter than usual, so you presumed that she had woken up late. You zoned out a little, acutely aware that the apartment had gone silent again. You didn't want to cry, to give up after surviving for so long. You had made it this far without letting everything get to you.

You knew that your deteriorating health was because of your separation from Mark and companies saw that as a liability, even though laws had come into place last year to protect separated soulmates from workplace discrimination. You felt a tiny ping of hope when Rhiannon said you would be able to move soon, but you knew she was lying to make you feel better. 

Feeling lethargic, you stand and make your way to the dresser in the corner of your room, stripping and throwing your clothes about the room. You open up a drawer and pull out a pair of sweatpants and the softest t-shirt you could find and slipped them on, wandering to your bed and slowly climbing in. You slipped off your glasses, placing them on your desk and reached forward to turn off your lamp.

You hugged your polar bear and tried to get comfortable, hoping to fall asleep quickly. You supposed you could call into work when you woke up; at least your manager was nice enough to understand when you needed a day off. You rolled over, tossed and turned, but sleep wouldn't come. Not while your phone was constantly buzzing. 

"What the hell," you mumble to yourself, untangling yourself from the knot of blankets you had tied yourself in to reach for your phone. Your lock screen lit up with a photo of Mark, one you had taken two years ago of him standing in Union Station. 

[Rhiannon (5)] 

She sure knew how to type quickly. 

Rhiannon: I'm on my way to work, I'll let you know when I'm there

Rhiannon: sorry our call was so short, I was running a little late

Rhiannon: I talked to Mark last night, did he say anything? 

Rhiannon: are you asleep already? It's been like 5 minutes 

Rhiannon: ok you're basically just ignoring me at this point

You: calm down bro I was getting in my pyjamas 

Rhiannon: I forgot how slow you get when you're sick, I could die of boredom waiting for you to respond 

You: hardy har 

Rhiannon: so have you talked to mark today? 

You: around lunchtime he woke up from a nightmare but I assume hes busy right now 

Rhiannon: Things have been pretty bad around now, I think you might have guessed that

You: Yeah, things aren’t really that great here either, but I’m more worried about Mark… have they given him time off? 

Rhiannon: Not much besides half days. He’s really been missing you. Maybe you should message him and see if he’s not busy

You: Yeah, maybe. I feel really guilty

Rhiannon: I know. I still could help you buy your plane ticket, you know. You: You know I can’t do that, I can’t take more from you than I have already. I owe you too much.

No response. 

You: Rhiannon I’m sorry 

You: Come on, you can’t have scrubbed in that fast!

You sighed, staring at your screen and still seeing no response from your best friend. You took a deep breath in and immediately regretted it when you began coughing up a lung, but at least you weren't upchucking your dinner. Instead, you decided to send a text to Mark.

You: mark, you there? 

You close your mind for a moment, thinking that maybe going to bed even later than usual would just make you more sick in the end, but you really needed to know what was going on. 

Mark: yeah I'm here babe, what's wrong, can't sleep? 

You: no not really… do you have time to talk for a bit? 

Mark: yeah, my legs gave out during our first practice so I'm taking a break

You: I'm sorry

Mark: it's not your fault (Y/N) 

You: it kind of is, we're both dying because I can't afford to move 

Mark: (Y/N), we're not dying, and it's okay, you'll be able to move soon

You: face it you know that we are… I haven't felt this horrible in a long time and I've thrown up three times today 

Mark didn't respond right away. 

Mark: why are you putting yourself down so much 

You: I just… have a lot of regrets right now 

Mark: what do you mean

You licked your lips and rolled over in bed, wondering if you should tell him.

Mark: are you okay? 

You: no, I feel like this would make you hate me 

Mark: I could never hate you and you know that. Tell me what's been bothering you.

You: For the past while… Rhiannon’s been offering me money. It’s honestly not much because everyone’s struggling nowadays, but it would be enough for me to fly to Korea, and I’ve felt so guilty about it that I kept saying no and she stopped offering

Mark: You mean that you could have been here faster? You: and now I feel that saying no was a really bad idea… and I.. I can’t afford anything, barely even food and now I hear that you’re even more sick than I am and I feel terrible

You: I don’t know what to do

Mark: It’s okay, (Y/N), really. I know how hard it is to take money from someone else, I’m not mad at you

You: Really?

Mark: I’m just disappointed that I have to keep waiting. You’ll be able to move soon, I promise, I promise, I promise

You: Are you going to be okay

Mark: As long as you are. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be there for you the second you land. Okay?

You: Okay. I… I should probably get some sleep now. Mark: Rest well, I love you

You: I love you too 

You sighed, placing your phone on your desk and turning over in your bed. It was time.

[allfathertoday]

I copied and pasted this. From a friend. It's what I struggle with the most. How is any of this ok?

By Darryl May

WE HAVE JUST WITNESSED A BLOODLESS COUP. Did anyone notice the overthrow of the United States free election system, the end of our constitutional republic, and the merge of capitalism into the slide toward socialism?

For those who do not get it! Now you understand why there was never any action against the Clintons or Obama, how they destroyed emails and evidence and phones and servers, how they spied and wiretapped, how they lied to FISA, had conversations on the tarmac, sent emails to cover their asses after key meetings, how Comey and Brennan and Clapper never were brought to any justice. How the FBI and CIA lied, how the Steele Dossier was passed along, how phones got factory reset, how leak after leak to an accomplice media went unchecked, why George Soros is always in the shadows, why they screamed Russia and pushed a sham impeachment, why no one ever goes to jail, why no one is ever charged, why nothing ever happens. Why there was no wrongdoing in the FISA warrants, why the Durham report was delayed. Why Hunter will walk scot-free. Why the FBI sat on the laptop. Why the Bidens’ connection to China was hidden. Why the media is 24/7 propaganda and lies. Why social media silences the First Amendment and speaks over the President of the United States.

This has been the plan by the Deep State all along. They didn’t expect Trump to win in 2016. He messed up their plans. Delayed it a little.

They weren’t about to let it happen again. Covid was weaponized, Governors helped shut down their states, the media helped shame and kill the economy, and the super lucky unverifiable mail-in ballots were just the trick to make sure the career politician allegedly with hands in Chinese payrolls that couldn’t finish a sentence or collect a crowd, miraculously became the most popular vote recipient of all time.

WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT? Expect the borders to open with the likelihood that terrorists will come in. Increased immigration. Expect agencies like CBP and INS and Homeland Security to be muzzled or even deleted. Law enforcement will see continued defunding. The electoral college will be gone. History erased. Two Supreme Court Justices might be removed. The Supreme Court will be packed. Your 2nd Amendment will be attacked. If you have a manufacturing job or oil industry job, get ready. If you run a business, brace for impact. Your taxes are gonna go up, Biden’s already announced it and businesses will pay more. There is no real recovery from this.

The elections from here on will be decided by New York City, Chicago, and California. The candidate who offers the most from the Treasury will get the most votes. But the votes voted won’t matter, just the ones received and counted. That precedent has been set.

“Benjamin Franklin was walking out of Independence Hall after the Constitutional Convention in 1787 when someone shouted out, ‘Doctor, what have we got? A republic or a monarchy?’” Franklin responded, “A republic if you can keep it.”

Ladies and gentlemen, you will now lose your Republic. You turned from God. You turned from family. You turned from the country. You embraced degeneracy culture. You celebrated and looked to fools. You worshipped yourselves selfishly as you took for granted what men died to give you. You disregarded history and all it teaches. On your watch, America just died a little. It is likely she’ll never be the same again. Some of you have no idea what you have done. Sadly, some of us do.

[ri-ahhh]

bad day

MJ has a bad day dealing with her snotty coworker, who wants MJ’s promotion and her boyfriend.

4.8k

warnings: potentially triggering BD thoughts/language; smut; obnoxious amount of fluff cuz idk about you but I need some softness

“Hi sweetheart,” Grayson says with a smile as MJ stalks into the living room with a scowl. She plops next to him on the couch and hurls her heels off with a flourished kick, glaring at where they land a few feet away on the shaggy rug. His grin falls when he notices her pinched face and lack of returned greeting. “Rough day?”

MJ nods and curls into his side, silently pleading for him to wrap her in his arms. Grayson obliges immediately and pulls her into his lap, tucking her as close to his chest as he can. When MJ asks for physical affection as comfort, which isn’t as often as you might think considering that’s one of the best ways she shows love, Grayson knows she really needs it.

“’S the matter, Peach?” he asks gently with a kiss to her forehead. He smooths her long hair down and scratches his nails lightly on her thigh as she snakes her arms around his waist. “Chanel again?”

Chanel Marten is MJ’s coworker and a petty, idiotic thorn in her side; every bit the LA bimbo with the stereotypical Barbie looks and meanness to match. When she isn’t calling MJ fat behind her back or constantly trying to undercut her to their bosses in light of an upcoming promotion they’re both up for, she’s actively hinting at how much she disapproves of MJ and Grayson together. She’s been a fan of the twins for years, and doesn’t make it a secret that she is very much attracted to Grayson, which MJ finds partly amusing and wholly fucking annoying.

“God, how do you let him go to those influencer parties alone?” Was what she asked earlier today at their office. She was scrolling through the series of photos on Grayson’s latest Instagram post from the night before, looking his sexiest in that half-open linen button-down and his Louis pants. “I wouldn't let him out of my sight in public if I were you.”

MJ glanced over at her blonde coworker and couldn’t believe the audacity of this woman to go through her man’s Instagram right in front of her. She didn’t acknowledge it, answering her question instead. “I trust him. And he’s not alone, he’s always with Ethan.”

Chanel twirled her hair and sighed, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. It was the end of the day on a Friday, and she probably could have gone home already, but had instead chosen to wheel her desk chair into MJ’s office across the hall from her own. For what, exactly, MJ didn’t know; they were far from friends, barely amicable coworkers at best. Antagonizing MJ was probably the start of a good weekend for Chanel.

Her suspicions were answered a moment later with Chanel’s next choice of words, her irritating vocal fry even more prominent than usual. “Yeah, but all of those IG models in one room, and you guys aren’t, like, super public. What if he wants a taste of what he doesn’t have?”

MJ squeezed her mouse in a death grip, but didn’t divert her gaze from her screen. “What are you implying, Chanel?” she asked irritatedly, her patience running at the thickness of a piece of paper for the bitch by then. She had already thrown MJ under the bus in their morning meeting with their bosses for something MJ’s intern had screwed up in their presentation, and MJ had caught her making snide comments in the break room about her ‘birthing hips’ and ‘thunder thighs’ to Annie the Asshole from Accounting. Annie was another coworker who, upon learning that MJ wouldn't invite Grayson along to after-work drinks simply so she could meet him, had immediately put MJ in her hypothetical burn book.

Right then, she finally had a moment to go back into their projections and fix what her intern Alessia had mistyped in the final presentation copy, and Chanel was only serving as both a reminder of her actions in the meeting and a distraction from her getting her work done.

MJ wanted nothing more than to be at home with Grayson by then, a tension headache creeping steadily up the back of her neck and into her temples. She had been the lead on this client presentation, so staying at the office until nine or ten at night hadn’t been an unusual occurrence lately; she was only glad by then that this was the end of a rough few weeks of work as soon as she was done fixing Alessia’s errors.

Chanel smirked but hid it as a simper of sympathy, clearly thrilled she was visibly getting under MJ’s skin. “I’m just saying, MJ, you’re super pretty, but, like, you don’t work out that much, right?I never see you in the gym here, or hear you mention going to one after work. I mean, Grayson being surrounded by girls who do fitness for a living would have to be like being in a candy store for him. We both know how much he cares about living a healthy lifestyle.”

She double-tapped the post, her too-long nails that were clearly trying to emulate Kylie Jenner’s or the like clicking obnoxiously against the screen, and sat back in her office chair. “I think if I were you, I’d quit this place and concentrate on building a following. Maybe try the fitness influencer route, yourself. It’s a pretty good trade-off, if you think about it; Grayson gives you clout, and you get snatched for him. And, you’d be able to keep a close eye on him. Boys will be boys, after all.”

That did it. Chanel Marten didn’t know her life, and she sure as hell didn’t know Grayson’s character. MJ finally took her attention off her iMac to give Chanel a glare that rivaled Lily’s ‘you’re dead to me’ look in How I Met Your Mother. It took every ounce of self control she possessed to hold herself back from acting on the overwhelming urge to punch Chanel’s newly-doctored nose.

Upon realizing MJ was done fucking around, Chanel’s smug smile slowly faded, until all pretenses were dropped, and the two women just stared at one another. No more fronts — not cordial coworkers anymore, but rival ones.

MJ knew what this girl was doing. Trying to make her insecure in her relationship with Grayson, and question her position in the firm so she wouldn’t go for the promotion. Chanel was as dumb as she looked if she thought either of these would work, but MJ had had enough of both her intelligence and her appearance being so blatantly insulted. She swiveled back to her computer and started doing the last couple of tweaks to the report that she had started before Chanel so rudely barged in.

“You know, next time you wanna pull a fast one and make me take the fall for an intern error, I’ll be happy to let Lacey know you’ve made us all rush this presentation by turning your last three sections of analytics in late, which is why I didn’t have time to review Alessia’s portion since I had to work your shit in last minute. I have time stamps on my email to prove it. Not to mention, the screen recordings of Snapchat stories of you at Saddle Ranch that someone showed me from the same nights you sent them. Should be pretty beneficial for my interview for Executive VP next month, don’t you think?”

MJ smiled and emailed the altered report back to her boss, Lacey, and made sure her computer was completely locked down before reaching into a cabinet for her purse and lunchbox. She stood and looked down at Chanel, who had her arms crossed tightly and her overfilled lips pursed so they were unusually pale and thin. MJ was going to leave it at that, but she was very much done being the bigger person, and a brief moment of pettiness came over her.

“And I hope you do find a man as good as Gray one day; maybe having someone as kind and real as him will make you less of a cold-hearted bitch.” MJ dug her keys out of her purse, motioning with her eyes from Chanel to the open door. “Now, please get out of my office. I’m ready to go home to my amazing, faithful, sexy boyfriend.”

Chanel scoffed and rolled her eyes but did as she was told, rolling back to her desk and giving MJ the cold shoulder as she breezed past her office.

“I didn’t fucking do anything to her,” MJ whines into Grayson’s neck after relaying all of this to him. Her bravado and smugness towards Chanel had dropped almost as soon as she reached her car in the parking garage of her downtown office building. Her insecurities had crept into her brain to join her full-fledged migraine and made driving home in traffic an even bigger nightmare than usual. “She’s hated me since the day I started there, no matter how nice I’ve tried to be.”

“She’s jealous, baby,” Grayson murmurs at once, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “You’ve come in and been there half the time she has, done the same job way better than her, and got recognized for it. Nobody likes to be outshone.”

MJ sighs and squeezes him reflexively as she moves on to the other half of Chanel’s dislike for her. “And it’s like getting bullied by the head cheerleader in high school. She basically told me I was too fat for you and that I don’t work out enough to ‘keep up with your healthy lifestyle.’” She lets out a little mirthless huff of laughter. “I mean, usually she says it behind my back to Annie the Asshole from Accounting, so I guess I should be appreciative that she at least had the decency to say it in so many words to my face tonight.”

Grayson sits in silence for a moment, seething internally at the thought that some dumb bitch who doesn’t know him in the slightest could have the nerve to talk to and about his girlfriend like that. He reaches for his phone on the couch next to them. “First of all, you're not fat, and I’d love you just the same even if you were. Second, give me all her at’s. I’m blocking this girl on everything.”

God, could the man get any more perfect? MJ sits up some and cups his face, shaking her head with a small smile. “No, no, it’s okay, Bear. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she got to me. If anything, I’d want you to post a thirst trap just so she can see what’s not her’s. What’s mine.”

“I think that could be arranged tonight,” he smirks, giving her a chaste kiss.

She attempts to smile back, but it turns into a grimace as her head gives a massive throb out of nowhere. “Shit,” she mumbles, pressing her fingertips against her temples. Grayson gives her a concerned look before she explains, “Headache.”

It takes all of three seconds for Grayson to secure one arm around her back and hook the other under her knees, standing and holding her bridal style. “Come on,” he says, like she really has a choice in the matter, and starts carrying her to their room. MJ wraps her arms around his neck and nuzzles her head into his shoulder with her eyes closed to block out the evening sun. “We’re taking a bath, then I’ll order dinner to eat in bed while we have a movie night.”

MJ nods gratefully. As usual, he knows exactly what she needs. “Ratatouille?”

Grayson chuckles at the hopeful tone in her voice. Ratatouille is one of MJ’s ‘sick’ movies; something quiet and nostalgic that offers that weird feeling of peace that you need when you just don’t feel good. “Of course, Ratatouille.”

He sits her on the counter once they reach the ensuite bathroom and pinches her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, planting a warm, lingering kiss on her lips; not heated, but comforting. Just what she needs in that moment.

“Stay put,” he commands quietly. MJ agrees and starts to unbutton her blouse as she watches Grayson step into the closet, pulling out one of her favorite t-shirts of his and a pair of his boxers. He puts the folded items next to her on the counter and helps her untuck the shirt from her cigarette trousers, tossing it in the dry-cleaning pile before reaching into one of her drawers and retrieving her makeup wipes.

MJ sighs and closes her eyes as she lets him gently drag the fresh-smelling cloth against the skin of her face. They aren't part of her usual skincare regimen, but Grayson has been exposed to her routine long enough and is perceptive enough to know that they’re for late nights, or ones like tonight, when she just doesn't have the energy to do more.

It feels better than if she had been able to get herself to use face wash and toner and such, anyways. The coolness of it and pressure of his fingers feel wonderful against her eyes and cheeks, alleviating some of the pain there momentarily.

MJ flutters her eyes open when he’s done. “Thank you, Bear,” she sighs, which he replies to with a kiss before walking over to the soaking tub. She hops off the counter and unbuckles her belt and pants, then unhooks her bra and steps out of her underwear.

Her reflection in the mirror glares back at her, Grayson in the background fiddling with the knobs on the tub to get the temperature of the water just right. She watches his muscles ripple with the slightest movements, his abs outlined through the fabric of his t-shirt, and can’t help but focus back in on herself. There’s some extra squish around her upper thighs and arms that no amount of training would get rid of; a softness to her tummy that probably comes from her undying love of Oreos, which are her nighttime vice. When she compares the two of them in this intimate space, maybe Chanel was right…

“Stop that.”

MJ startles a little and looks up in the mirror from where she had unconsciously started pinching and picking at what were really the bits of healthy pudginess under her skin, to find Grayson standing directly behind her. The harshness in his tone makes her withdraw and blush some, embarrassed that he had caught her at such an insecure moment.

He wraps his arms around her middle, his open palms brushing against the skin of her belly. His touch both warms her insides and causes them to erupt in nervous tingles. For some reason, MJ has a hard time seeing the two of them like this, with her completely naked and him fully clothed. She isn't afraid, never with Grayson, but she feels incredibly vulnerable in a way she isn't used to with him.

Grayson presses a kiss to the back of her head and makes sure they have eye contact through the mirror before he continues. “I’ll be damned if I let some idiot girl who doesn't matter to either of us make you feel like you’re not enough, MJ. You’re perfect, you hear me? You’re perfect, and I wouldn't change one inch of you, inside or out. Please don’t pick yourself apart like that.”

His voice holds a mixture of conviction and sadness, and MJ bites her lip as she sinks her back into his chest, her arms folding around his at her waist. She brushes her palm across the crisp, dark hairs covering one of his forearms.

“I could work out a little harder, though,” she murmurs after a few seconds of silence. “And cut back on a few carbs.”

Grayson looks at her incredulously. She’s lean and athletic, but it’s impossible to have the juicy, natural perfection of her ass and those breasts without a little extra, which he actually adores; she’s the very definition of slim-thick, a beautiful personification of the word.

He isn’t sure what kills him more inside: to think he hasn’t made it abundantly clear to her that he loves every square inch of her body; or if girls, society, whoever it is, make her think that the hard work she puts into her physique isn’t enough simply because she has a body type that isn’t what Instagram or people like Chanel deem ‘perfect’.

Either way, he’s going to rectify things right this instant.

“First of all, MJ, I know exactly how hard you work out; I’m doing it every morning with you, five days a week at 6 AM, remember? I’m the last person to lie to anyone about how much effort they give in their fitness. I know how hard you push yourself.”

He spins her around and cups her cheeks in his big hands. His stomach withers and his heart hurts when he sees the faint glitter of tears illuminating her emerald green eyes, making him want to be extra sure his next words are heard loud and clear. “Second, if I ever see that family sized box of double-stuffed Oreos in the trash, not empty, I’ll have a meltdown wondering where the hell my girlfriend went. Please, MJ. Those girls at your work are miserable cunts who only want what they can’t have. Don’t bring that energy back here, on us. I love you, exactly as you are.”

MJ takes a moment and considers his words before relenting with a nod. He’s right. Chanel and Annie should be the last things she’s thinking about when she’s got the man of her dreams right in front of her, saying all the right things and bringing her back to reality with his sweet, supportive words.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs, leaning in for a tight hug from him. “I love you, too.”

“Don’t apologize,” Gray assures, rubbing her back soothingly. “Let’s have a nice, relaxing night now, okay?”

MJ nods, pulling away enough from his body to grasp the hem of his t-shirt. He wags his brows playfully as he lifts his arms so she can pull the garment over his head, and gives her a quick smile before ducking down to kiss her.

She seems to be feeling slightly better, and a weight lifts from his chest at the realization. “Don’t distract me,” he mumbles against her lips after they make out lazily for a few moments. “Or our bath will overflow.”

“Don’t be so perfect, then,” she says back with a smirk, giving his ass a little swat as he returns to the tub and drops a Lush bath bomb and a chunk of bubble bar into the water.

While he does that, MJ opens one of the medicine cabinets. She isn’t big on taking pills, but she relents today and pops an Excedrin as her head pounded again. Once she swallows it with a handful of water from the sink, she starts to pile her hair into a bun, but is stopped by Gray’s grip on her forearm.

Her eyes had zoned out on a random spot on the counter, but at the pressure of his hand she looks up in the mirror to see him as naked as she is. “Don’t be silly,” he chides lightly, a smile toying at the corners of his lips. “You’re getting the full treatment tonight, Peach. I’ve got your shampoo and conditioner ready to go over there.”

He pulls gently down on her arm, and her hair tumbles back down over her shoulders and back as she lets him tug her to the warm, foamy water.

Ten minutes later, the Excedrin has kicked in, soft music from their ‘chill’ playlist plays through Grayson’s phone on the edge of the tub, and his strong fingers are creating heavenly relief for her as they scrub at her scalp. She’s totally relaxed in front of him, letting his broad chest and shoulders cocoon her smaller frame as her eyes droop and she moans lightly.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day, sweetheart,” he whispers in her ear, making her shiver despite the steaming water they sit in. She snuggles closer to his warmth. “And I’m sorry you have to deal with those assholes every day.”

It takes a moment for her brain to form the words, but she hums contentedly in reply. “It’s okay. Don’t know what I’d do without you, though, Gray.”

It’s so true. She has never been the girl to be codependent on anyone, let alone the man she’s in a relationship with, but Gray has achieved that honor in a matter of a year and a half. Probably earlier, if she were being honest with herself, but her adult life before him was a blur. She’s forgotten what it was like to not have him by her side, and she doesn’t want to imagine a scenario in the future where he isn’t.

He finishes washing her hair, lulling her into an even deeper trance when he moves her dark, wet locks over one shoulder so he can massage her neck with deep presses of his thumbs into her tight muscles. His fingers are nimble and dexterous, strengthened by his renewed passion for rock climbing, and are perfect for loosening the tension under her skin.

“Mmm, fuck,” she moans, not meaning for it to come out quite so pornographic, but she feels nearly orgasmic in the relief his hands are bringing her. Speaking of… “You’re gonna get the best head tomorrow, I promise.”

Grayson chuckles, squeezing her shoulders now, too. MJ feels him twitch against her lower back, but he says in her ear, “I’m not doing this for you to return the favor. I just want to be the one to make you feel better. Because I love you, and you’re mine, and you deserve it.”

“I know you’re not,” MJ smiles. “That only makes me want to do it even more.”

He grins and moves his hands further down her back beneath the water, massaging his knuckles into the soft skin there as well before coasting up her sides. He cups her breasts as MJ sinks back against him, her breathing picking up the slightest bit as his hands work magic there, too.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his hot breath flowing straight into her ear and sending goosebumps flaring over her skin.

More than okay, she thinks. MJ nods, and gasps when his hands pinch her nipples gently between his ring and middle fingers, tugging slightly. She takes his large hand off her right breast and sinks it into the water, straight to her center, her legs already parting to welcome him.

“Just rub me,” she whispers, eyes closed as he doesn’t hesitate to obey. “Circles, like this.”

MJ guides his fingers over her clit for a moment to show him exactly what she wants, but this isn’t their first rodeo and Gray knows perfectly well what he’s doing. She lets him take over and simply lies back against him as he expertly brings her higher and higher, until she’s falling over the edge, twitching in his arms and moaning sweetly.

Grayson tilts her head back to kiss him, sighing into her mouth as she twists in his arms to straddle him. He’s completely hard now, and she takes him in her hand instinctively. Twenty minutes ago, sex was the last thing on her mind, but she feels so good and relaxed now that she doesn’t hesitate to line him up and sink down slowly on his dick.

She grins smugly when his eyes fly open and he lets out an embarrassingly loud moan, completely surprised by a warm wetness that is vastly different from that of the bathwater. When she had stroked him in her hand he thought she might jerk him off, but her pussy, still deliciously tight from her orgasm, isn’t what he’s prepared for as he becomes slowly encased in it.

It’s a good thing she doesn’t meant for it to last long, because he’s so overwhelmed and caught off-guard it only takes a couple of minutes max of her grinding up and down on him while she whispers hot, dirty things in his ear, for him to shoot deep inside her.

“Shit,” he huffs out with a little laugh as she raises herself up enough for him to slip out of her pussy. “Did you just give me the equivalent of a hand job with your vagina? I know that wasn’t for you.”

She giggles and sits back in his lap, shrugging as she nuzzles his nose with hers. “What can I say, I’m feeling lazy tonight and that seemed like the faster option. Are you complaining?”

Grayson shakes his head vehemently. “Of course not, but I didn't want you to do any work tonight.” His brows pinch a bit and his lips turn down into a pout. “Are you okay? How’s your head?”

MJ smiles softly and brushes his cheek with pruned fingertips. Even post-orgasm, he’s still concerned only about her. “Better, Gray-bear. Thank you.”

God, she loves him so much. She can’t resist wiping her hands on the towel and reaching behind him to grab his phone to capture him in that moment. His hair has gone curly in the humidity of the bathroom; the light from the window shines perfectly on his chiseled face, making his sex-eyes nearly pure green and illuminating his full lips that have curled into a small, crooked smile as he realizes her intention. She laughs when he takes it upon himself after a few serious snaps to play up to the camera, scooping up some of the bubbles and blowing them off his palm while giving her a joking, coquettish expression. Finally, she puts her back against his chest once again and they take a couple of goofy, up-angle shots, close-ups of their faces.

Photoshoot over, Grayson sighs and hugs her tight to him as he sucks kisses up and down the sides of her neck while she goes through the pictures. He’s making her head swim, but she manages to determine three of her favorites and doesn’t even bother editing them before adding a simple heart emoji in the caption and posting them to his Instagram once she earns his approval.

She turns around to put the phone back on the ledge before leaning in to plant her lips on his, slipping her tongue between them sensually. She could kiss this man forever, but eventually they start slowing down. MJ moves her kisses to his sharp jawline, trailing her mouth across and down until she gets to his neck freckle. She gives it a peck before pulling back, meeting his hooded gaze with warm eyes. It feels so good to just give each other these little bouts of physical affection with no real end goal. Just enjoying each other’s company, in their own space, caressed by the comforting warmth and scents of the bath.

Eventually, MJ peels herself away from him and stands up. Grayson stares up at her adoringly, admiring the way the water cascades over her body and rains down back into the tub. “C’mon, I’m hungry.”

She looks like a naiad with her long, dark hair covering her tits and dripping sensual trails of warm water down the dips and curves of her body. As if she doesn’t look delectable enough to him right now, her pussy is inadvertently right in his face, and his hand instantly reaches up to touch her. “Me too,” he growls, his fingertips tracing her lower lips and parting them so her clit is exposed. His mouth literally starts to water as he thinks about her earthy taste and her slippery arousal coating his tongue.

Just as he’s ducking in to swipe his tongue over her slit, MJ grips a handful of his hair and stops him, tilting his head back with that grip to make him look up at her questioningly. “Not now,” she says, taking her turn to scratch her nails along his scalp for a moment. “Still sensitive. And actually starving; I had to spend my entire lunch break fixing part of that report.”

Grayson nods understandingly and lifts the plug in the drain before standing up as well. “Then let’s get some Monty’s in you, hm?”

“That sounds amazing,” she agrees, her stomach growling right on cue.

They both chuckle and Grayson helps her step out of the tub before wrapping her up in a big, fluffy towel. He kisses her nose, then her lips, and retreats into the closet with his own towel to find fresh PJs for himself.

An hour later, they’re chowing down on some burgers and shoestring fries together in the fresh blankets of their bed while Ratatouille plays through the projector. And Chanel’s stupid username hasn’t popped up once in his likes or comments.

[astralaffairs]

voltaire to versace 03 | thomas jefferson TEASER

title: voltaire to versace 03 TEASER

pairing: professor!thomas jefferson x reader

words: a lil over 10k

warnings: sex jokes n references again, dolley simping for james again, but probably more this time, implied sex except dolley’s having it instead of mc, maria and angelica are girlfriends, lafayette is basically everyone’s plug for weed so like,, drug references and alcohol references??

desc: from francis bacon to foucault, descartes to dante, your political philosophy seminar doesn’t promise to be a blowout — and yet, one mysterious stranger and a risqué evening later, your burberry-clad professor gives you the feeling it won’t be quite the snoozefest you’d expected.

tags: @lunariasilver @tinywhim @nyxie75 @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @checkurwindow @katierpblogg @cubedtriangle @lunariasilver @lexylovesfandoms @fanfic-addict-98 @stephyra17 @notebookgirl30 @exorcisms-with-elmo @kmsmedine @itshaileyn @honeyand-roses — let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

"Are you sure I was included in that invite?" Y/N's voice was skeptical as she crossed the green toward Thomas's office. Apparently, Dolley and James had spent their afternoon together, taking a walk through the city. (When Dolley told Y/N that the two-mile loop near the Lincoln Memorial had taken them two hours to walk through, she had a sneaking suspicion walking wasn't all they were doing. Hopefully, they'd at least escaped the watchful eye of our oversized 16th president.)

"Yes, I'm certain you were," Dolley insisted from the other end of the phone's line. "He said it'd be great if I brought you."

"... This sounds suspiciously like a pity invite."

"It isn't a pity invite!" Y/N could hear the indignance in her voice.

"Dolley, why, exactly, would he want me there if it wasn't a pity invite?"

"... Because you're my best friend, and he's decided to make an effort to get to know you better?"

She laughed. "As much as I appreciate this idealized James Madison, I have a feeling it was more to the effect of 'I just saw your roommate and feel obligated to invite her'," Y/N corrected her. "But go to the party without me! Don't let me hold you back from having your fun, alright?"

"Please come? It wouldn't be the same without you." Dolley's voice was high, containing traces of what almost smelled like desperation. "It'll make me much more comfortable to have you along."

Y/N groaned. "So when you and James go make out in the bathroom, I'm supposed to, what, play truth or dare with all the other PhD candidates?"

"Why not?" Dolley's tone was mild, which made Y/N roll her eyes.

"No offense to James's friends, but I'm not sure I want to spend an evening making stunted small talk with them."

"You're such a warm person, though! You'd be quite alright."

"It'd be awkward!"

"Please, Y/N? I'll beg you if that's what it'll take."

She scowled at how soft, forlorn Dolley's voice had become. As far as she was concerned, this was akin to emotional manipulation. "Does it really mean that much to you?"

"Yes. I like him so much."

She sighed. "I'm gonna say yes solely because I have somewhere to be and can't deal with this argument anymore. But you owe me."

Y/N could almost picture Dolley’s sappy smile. “Thank you so much, dear. You’re too good to me.”

"Yeah, yeah, what else is new?" Her words elicited a laugh from Dolley, and Y/N continued, “But you know I’d do pretty much whatever you asked if you asked it in that I’m-about-to-cry voice, so I’m not sure this relationship is healthy for me anymore.”

“Oh, of course; I’m truly a parasite,” Dolley sighed. “Taking you in as my roommate, paying for your ramen — how evil of me.”

“I pay half the rent, and ramen costs fifty cents!” Y/N defended, but the words were lighthearted nonetheless. “Next time you give up five perfectly good hours of a Friday night so that I can get laid, we’ll call it even.”

“Don’t make any calls about Friday just yet. You haven’t even seen James’s friends.” Dolley’s voice was just teasing enough to placate Y/N. “I may not be the only one having some fun.”

“Have you even seen James’s friends?” Y/N asked dubiously, and Dolley’s silence told her all there was to know. “That’s what I thought. He’s an econ student, so it’s probably gonna be about eighty percent entitled rich men attending school on family money.”

“Or they could all be just your type,” Dolley reasoned, but by then, any efforts to talk Y/N out of her convictions were futile. “Tall, hot, and older.”

“First off, I don’t have a type, and second, just because you’re dating an ‘older man’,” — The final two words were said mockingly — “doesn’t mean that his older friends aren’t still douches.”

“I hate to have to be the one to break it to you, but that is absolutely your type.”

“Based on what?”

“That professor of yours?”

“Dolley!” Y/N scowled, turning down the volume on her call just in case some passing pedestrians were notorious gossips with super-hearing. It was certainly possible. “Can you please stop talking about him like that? Don’t make it a thing,” she murmured, jaw tense.

“Oh, we’re well past that, dear,” Dolley said matter-of-factly, and Y/N could only roll her eyes. “But if you’ve agreed to the party, I won’t push my luck.”

“Smart choice,” she muttered bitterly. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go. Talk to you later tonight?”

“Of course.”

With that, she hung up the phone before Dolley could take advantage of her giving mood and start making further outlandish demands, tucking it into her coat pocket as she pushed open the door to Melos Hall. Unfortunately for her, the elevator was broken, and Thomas's office was several flights of stairs above her.

After at least eight long pauses for her to catch her breath, heaving as she leaned against the railing in the stairwell, and three stomach cramps, Y/N knocked on his door. "Anybody home?"

"C'mon in." His voice was soft, muffled through the door, and she opened it to find him all but slumped on his desk, resting his head on his hand as he graded papers he appeared to be rather cross with, and with more of said papers covering the entirety of the desk’s surface (and much of the floor). He glanced up when she entered, and a soft grin split his expression. "Hey, I thought that was you."

"I'm in absolute awe of your pattern-recognition skills, really," she replied, tone dry as she let the door fall shut behind her, and despite the playful smile she wore, Thomas rolled his eyes.

"You actually here for anything, or am I gonna have to kick you out?"

She laughed. "I'm not here to derail your work, I swear." He raised a dubious eyebrow. "I was just stopping by to let you know that, assuming it's still on the table, I'd love the TA position."

"Oh, yeah?" His smile widened almost imperceptibly at her words, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "'M glad to hear it. Could've just shot me an email, though."

She shrugged. "I was headed this way anyway. Figured I may as well stop by."

"I'm not complainin'." She let out a soft huff of laughter at the words, but she could feel heat beginning to creep up the back of her neck. "'S good timing, anyway. Intro to IR just turned in an essay on Kant."

The soft groan she let out only served to amuse him further as she surveyed the wreckage of his office. "That's what all this paper is?" He nodded in confirmation, and she scrunched up her nose. "I'm not sure if I feel worse for the freshmen who had to write them or for you having to read them."

"Well, I should hope it's the freshmen," he said matter-of-factly, sitting back in his chair. The smile he wore was concerningly self-righteous. "'Cause, now, readin' these is your job, too."

Her eyebrows shot up; the dread in her gaze was the furthest thing from contrived. "... Is it too late to rescind my application as a TA?"

He shook his head. "Mm-mm. You're welcome to abandon ship."

She didn't like the satisfaction which grew in his gaze as she weighed her options; they both knew she wasn't considering turning down the position in earnest — that simple fact left Thomas unnecessarily smug. Another beat passed, and she sighed. "You're lucky this is going to look good on my grad school applications."

He laughed. "Sure am. I could use all the help I can get, right now."

"I can see that," she replied, voice laden with amusement at the state of his office.

However, Thomas said nothing more, and she shifted on her feet, uncomfortable with the drawn-out silence. He raised an expectant eyebrow, and it took her a moment to grasp his intention. "Wait... d'you mean, like, right now?"

"Unless you're busy." He shrugged. His gaze was hopeful as she eyed warily the small stack of papers she'd spent the past few minutes trying not to crush under her boot. She sighed.

He grinned when she bent over to pick up the papers that'd floated to her side of the desk. "As depressing as it feels to say, I've got nowhere else to be on this fine Friday night."

"That's the spirit." He winked, and though she rolled her eyes, her amused smile was deep-set. "So, you're gradin' for accuracy and watchin' out for grammar, of course, but the points are really earned for analysis. The paper's on changes in the international system. They’ve gotta connect ‘em back to Kant's maxims."

She let out a low whistle as she took a seat across from him, plucking a red pen from his cup and dropping her bag onto the floor. "That certainly sounds pretentious."

He laughed lightly. "You really tellin' me you didn't have to do anything like this as a freshman?"

"Oh, I wish I could say that, but unfortunately, my professor was apparently every bit the pseudointellectual you are.” She nodded sadly, and Thomas rolled his eyes.

"Hilarious, sweetheart, really." In the dry sarcasm of his tone, the casual pet name didn't seem to register with him, but Y/N couldn't help but notice, and her breath caught. "Here, lemme get you a copy of the rubric. 'S nothin' too complicated; go easy on 'em. Got some STEM majors in the class who're just takin' it for the graduation requirement, so I'm not expectin' much."

She pursed her lips. "Are the essays that bad?"

He deadpanned as he turned back to her, sliding the rubric across the desk. "At least as bad as I'm makin' 'em sound."

Y/N let out a long, dramatic huff, rubbing her temples, and Thomas looked thoroughly entertained at her reaction.

"I'm in for a long few months, aren't I?"

[silverhandy]

I saw the devil (in me) - chapter 2

contains some heavy spoilers for the devil ending

chapter 1 I ao3

If he was expecting a profound sign that V is gone, he found none. Night City was just as Takemura remembered it - crowded, flashy, and devoid of taste, both figuratively and literally. Vendors were outshouting one another, each determined to lure a potential client into an inevitable culinary disappointment. Takemura found himself navigating through the busy market that an unfortunate shortcut led him through. In hindsight, he should have ordered a cab and arrive at the address Viktor provided unscathed and in a much shorter time, but he felt the need to stretch his legs, or at least that’s what he’d been telling himself. He still had plenty of time before the memorial service started and he didn’t want to arrive either too early or too late - the first one would no doubt result in a lot of uncomfortable silence and the latter would make it seem like he didn’t care. Takemura wasn’t too keen on either of these options and that meant a long stroll through the city.

He could never grasp why V seemed to like this place so much. She spoke about it often, cursing corporations, gangs, and ever present exploitation to kingdom come, but she also seemed to fit in like a perfect piece of the puzzle, a small, but necessary cog in a living, breathing machine. She moved through it freely, her loud confidence and necessary caution interchanging in a wild dance that made the entire city spin. Where V shined, Takemura found himself losing rhythm, coming from the strict, organized world of the Arasaka military, and eventually realizing that he’d never learn the dance that made one feel at home in a place like this.

As he approached Vista del Ray, a strong smell of old frying oil and fish gave way to more subtle scents, identical all around the world in places like this, Heywood or Shinjuku, it didn’t matter. Cigarette smoke floating up and chasing the wind, too much cologne on a young, elegantly dressed men that almost bumped into him, too focused on going through his emails to look ahead, a dinner burnt, tenants desperately attempting to air the apartment by opening a window as wide as it would go, which unfortunately for them wasn’t very far. All of that mixing, shifting, evolving into what could only be called a smell of desperation and longing for an opportunity.

Takemura left the main street and turned left into an alley, feeling the intense stares of a group of young men leaning heavily on a graffiti-covered, brick wall. He knew the type, so he just gave them a warning glare, aiding them in measuring the odds. As expected, none of them approached him, having done the math and realizing that they stand no chance. He wasn’t a local, so maybe if they stumbled upon someone else like him they’d go for it, but Takemura had Arasaka written all over his features, suit and tech.

El Coyote Cojo seemed like a bar identical to many others, but the second Takemura walked through the door, he was sure he was in the right place. There was no music playing, the room filled with a murmur of hushed conversations between all the people who came to say their final goodbyes. And there were quite a lot of them. Takemura felt the corners of his lips go up in a sad smile. Of course, V had a lot of people who’d want to be here, the open suite full of them, standing in their small, respective groups, some around the tall tables, others hunched over their drinks at the bar. From where Takemura was standing, he hardly saw any familiar face, but then again, in those short few weeks he got to know V, there wasn’t much opportunity to get to know all the people she was close with. There was no time for that and more importantly, he didn’t feel like it was his place to intrude into her personal life. After all, they were just coworkers, of sorts, helping each other towards a common goal.

That is, until that stakeout on the roof. If Takemura was to pinpoint a moment where he could in full confidence call V a friend, it was those few hours they spent going over the entry points to Arasaka Industrial Park, analyzing the routes of transports going in and out, coming up with yet another idea how to get in without getting shot on the spot.

Then they got pizza and the conversation naturally shifted into something more casual, them reminiscing on their pasts and their futures. How different things were back then. V in what might’ve been her best, determined to get her life back and him doing the same.

It seemed none of them got what they wanted.

Someone passed next to him, whispering something about him getting a move on under their breath, and only then did Takemura realize that he was still standing in the doorway, staring somewhere above the heads of the mourners. Glad that he hadn't caught the attention of everyone in the room, he took a few steps forward and then, finally, he noticed Viktor, waving at him from his seat at the edge of the bar.

When Takemura approached him and took a seat next to the ripperdoc, the first thing he noticed was that Viktor looked noticeably older, dark circles under his eyes only adding to the feeling. Dressed in a classy, black suit that sure has seen better days, Viktor looked out of place, almost like...

"I was already thinkin’ you wouldn't make it." he started, mindlessly rolling the nearly empty glass in his hand. "How was your flight?"

Small talk, then.

"Good enough, thank you." then, after a moment of deliberation, Takemura added. "I usually do not fly commercial."

"Oh? What on earth stopped Arasaka’s golden boy from taking an AV?" Viktor asked, calling a bartender with a wave of his hand.

Takemura hesitated for a moment, but before the looming pressure of every passing second making the situation more awkward had a chance to set in, the bartender, a tall, heavily tattooed Latino man approached them to take his order.

"Just water, please." the bartender’s brow shot up, as if asking Takemura if he was sure, especially considering the occasion, but seeing that his client wouldn’t backtrack, he simply pulled up a glass. When it was full, two cubes of ice clinking inside, Takemura looked back at Viktor, still patiently waiting for his answer.

"My higher ups don’t exactly know that I am here." he finally said, taking a sip from his glass to wash down the ping of anxiety he felt swelling up the moment he mentioned his unauthorized trip across the ocean. Not that it mattered anymore. The sword laid at the bottom of his suitcase, carefully wrapped in silk, just waiting for him to get some closure he apparently longed for so desperately.

This time, Viktor’s brow shot up.

"No leave to mourn a friend?"

"I’m afraid they would not consider it a reason important enough to neglect my duties."

"You clearly did."

"Yes, fully aware of the consequences that await. But I could not miss it, I suppose I needed some…"

"Closure? And they wouldn’t let you have that? No wonder they call it a soul sucking job. Sorry to pry, but why don’t you just quit? Put in a two months notice or somethin'?"

"It does not work like that. Not when you have been there for as long as I have."

Viktor clearly wanted to say something, but just as he opened his mouth, everyone present started walking up to the area on the left from the bar, gathering around a small table covered in freshly lit candles, V’s photo in the middle. She was smiling, little reflections of the candle flames dancing in her eyes. V’s hair was shorter than Takemura remembered, it must’ve been taken well before they met. In a better time.

It was Viktor who stood in front of the crowd to address them. His voice sounded strained at first, unusually high, but he cleared his throat, once, twice and didn’t let his voice break even once. He spoke with confidence, yet calmly, the same reassuring voice Takemura remembered from when he ended up in his clinic alongside V, with multiple gunshot wounds and some more or less minor lacerations.

After Viktor was done, a young woman with colorful hair took his place. Clearly battling with her shaking voice, she told about the time she and V went diving in the ruins of her childhood hometown. How she still had the camera that V fished out for her and how she’s still trying to fix it, but even if she won’t be able to bring such an antique back to life, a braindance they recorded together will keep a piece of V alive forever. After that, people started taking turns, each with their little story of what V meant for them. Takemura couldn’t quite focus, each new face blending with another, a never-ending litany composed of the good deeds of a woman that no longer was among them. When it was his turn to speak, Takemura hesitated.

"I did not know V for as long as most of you, but I am honored to have been able to call her a friend."

And that was it.

                                                              ***

"A lot of people came."

"I’d say a third of them were fixers from every single part of this fuckin’ city. Never took them for a sentimental type."

"Me neither."

"You know...you know what she told me in those last few weeks? “Viktor, if you dare to shed a single tear at my funeral, I swear I’ll rise up from the dead again and kick yer sorry ass”. It was one of the last things she told me, anyway. Couldn't really speak much later on." Viktor took another swing from the bottle, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of an already ruffled suit jacket.

Takemura didn’t ask how V was doing in those last moments. Didn’t need to, when he arrived at the clinic professor Kusama didn’t spare him any of the details. Quite the opposite, she was elaborate, listing all the end-stage symptoms in a cold, clinical tone. Upon hearing them, a thought crossed his mind that if it was about him, he’d beg to be copied and stored into Mikoshi. But not her. V wasn’t a coward like him and faced her death the way he’d never be able to.

"Viktor, I am..so deeply sorry." he just muttered, unable to form anything more concise. What was he supposed to say, anyway? How did his remorse and guilt compare to Viktor’s pain, who got a front row seat seeing all the ways V was withering away, day by day? Who must’ve spent hundreds of hours at her bedside, making sure that she’s comfortable in those last moments while Takemura spent those months bundled away in an office reviewing mountains of meaningless documents, too scared to even call her?

"Nah." Viktor waved his hand, almost knocking over Takemura’s glass. "She wouldn’t want us to mope like this. Imma be okay soon enough. After all, grieving is a process and all that. What about you? Been holdin’ up okay?"

"Yeah." Takemura said, but his voice came out coarse. He cleared his throat. "As much as circumstances allow."

Viktor hummed, clearly not convinced. For a second Takemura was sure the other man would push the matter, but he dropped it. Two shots of tequila seemingly materialized on the counter before them when Takemura wasn’t looking, too focused on Viktor and his own thoughts.

"How ‘bout just this one and we call it a day?" Viktor asked, taking the glass into his hand.

"I suppose it can’t do any harm." Takemura replied, raising his own glass. "To V?"

"To V."

                                                             ***

Paradoxically, only when cigarette smoke filled his lungs he could finally take a deep breath. He excused himself a few minutes after their fourth round of shots. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy Viktor’s company, but the doctor was too perceptive for his own good and with each sip of alcohol chipping away his composure, Takemura felt that steel grip on his throat grow tighter and tighter.

He was alone in an alley right next to the entrance, cold winter air slowly sobering him up. Most guests have already left, only a few hindered behind, talking in the same, lowered voices he heard before. Not like he could hear any of that through the music, an old rock song he couldn't recall. Takemura slowly exhaled, a cloud of smoke dulling the air in front of him. It was time.

"Do you mind?" a woman's voice, right next to him. Takemura cursed under his breath. He was getting careless, much too distracted for his own safety. He turned his head and to his relief, he recognized her. A friend of Viktor’s, this tiny blonde woman, she ran some kind of an esoteric shop in the front. Misty was her name. They chatted a few times during the weeks Takemura would drop by the clinic to check on V.

"Not at all." he replied and moved a little to the side, making room for her to lean on the brightly painted wall. She didn’t take the invitation and remained standing, her big, brown eyes staring at him in a mix of emotions he could only describe as pity. Or maybe it was concern? He couldn't tell the difference anymore.

"You know," Misty started, her voice even softer than Viktor’s during his speech. "your pain is not lesser than his."

Takemura’s hand froze halfway from taking another drag of the cigarette. "Excuse me?"

"I’m just saying you shouldn’t cut yourself off. Viktor does that too, but not like this. The pain will not disappear if you keep running from it. It’ll just chase you up, no matter what you do. It’s better to make peace with it."

He didn’t know what to say. If he was in his right mind, he’d probably make up an excuse and walk away, but her words struck a chord in him that made him freeze, not daring to move even a little.

"I have made peace with it" he finally said, putting out the cigarette on the stone wall. He’ll find a trash can to throw it in later.

"I’m not the one you need to convince, Goro."

"I..I am sorry, but I have to go. My return flight leaves in a few hours."

Misty gave him a sad smile.

"I hope you’ll soon see that you’re exactly in a place you’re supposed to be in."

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 37 Pt 1

She woke to Gustaf tangled with her, his ridiculously long legs wrapped around hers, arms cradling her body against his like she was the most precious thing in the world. His face mirrored the peace he’d found in sleep with her last night. She knew what she had to do today, the restraining orders wouldn’t take much, but it would drag up toxic emotions for him and shove it firmly down his throat. Her only hope was that she could lessen the blow, offer him some level of protection. One day she thought as he trailed a finger down his jaw before fanning her fingers out over his chest, one day you’ll be free of her.

Her kiss, soft and tender, brought him to the surface, that curvy body entwined with his. “Mine.” He growled sleepily, his hold on her tightening, her quiet chuckle against his lips making him smirk. “All mine.” He breathed as he deepened the kiss, she was his kryptonite.

“I need to pee.” She chuckled. “And make some calls.” She didn’t want to elaborate and drag Ana into their bed, but she needed to get the ball rolling.

“Come back to bed after?” He mumbled into her hair still half asleep, the scent of her intoxicating as he nuzzled her neck.

“I’ll bring food.” She murmured.

“As long as you come with the food, I don’t care. I want you in bed with me all day.” His knuckles brushed her cheek and those eyes of glacial blue locked onto his. “I love you.” He said softly, his tone carried all the love he had for her.

“I know you do. I love you too, but I have to pee or it’s gonna get messy in here in a very unpleasant way.” She chuckled, kissing him chastely as he untangled his limbs from around her.

He’d drifted back to sleep by the time she’d donned her robe and walked out to the kitchen. Dragging her laptop from her office to sit on the kitchen island she started to organize her thoughts as the kettle boiled. Tea and notes, then phone calls.

She paced as she spoke to the police, seethed as they told her their investigation had stalled.

“You’ll have the paperwork to formally press charges by this afternoon.” She snapped. “You’re damn right we intend to. Now do your damn job and find her.”

He woke with a start at her tone, that ice cold fury unleashed on some unsuspecting soul. On any other day he’d revel in the lawyer surfacing, today it made his gut plummet. “Fucking Ana.” He sighed and punched the pillow. He could hear the anguish in her voice, the fear that the kids were in danger.

“I’m also serving her with a restraining order, several in fact, and accompanying injunctions. I have four children detective, I’m not giving her the chance to come after one of them, because if that happens from your departments lack of action, believe me when I tell you, this conversation will feel like I’ve congratulated you on the happiest day of your life.”

He couldn’t help the smirk, damn she was sexy as fuck when the lawyer came out to play. “Though she’s not playing this time around.” He murmured and continued to listen to her set the detective straight about how this was all going to happen.

“Put detective Leon Holmberg on the phone, right now.” She snapped, on her last fucking nerve. “I’ll wait.” She added sternly while he finished up whatever call he was on.

“Asshole.” She spat as the call was transferred. He wasn’t really, she was just pissed and emotional. Sure he was doing his job and she was emotionally invested in this, but stonewalling her wasn’t going to fly on any case, especially a personal one.

“Sildie? Sorry for the wait.” Leon’s gruff voice sounded as she sent an email off.

“It’s fine Leon, I just don’t appreciate the bullshit from your associate.” Her and Leon had crossed paths a few time in court with various cases, they were both straight shooters and got along well.

“He’s green, oh so green.” He chuckled. “Though your tongue lashing might have knocked some of that off him. He’ll learn. God were we ever that young?”

“Maybe twenty years ago.” She snorted. “And he’ll learn that stonewalling me isn’t in his best interest. Even when I’m not working.” She sniped. “Can you give me an update?”

“Sure. We visited her apartment last night once we were done at your door, she wasn’t home, so we visited her boyfriends apartment. He was there, she wasn’t. He was high and there was also a large quantity of drugs on his table in plain sight which he denies purchasing, they’re at the lab for forensics. If her prints are on it we’ll pick her up again.” She focused on what he was saying and added it all to her notes, fingers flying over the keyboard. “As for the tagging of your doors, we can charge them both as I said last night to Gustaf, nothing much will come of it, maybe a fine, but it’ll be documented.”

“Charge them both.” She said bluntly, no fucks given at how pissed she sounded at this point. “It’ll be enough to slap her with restraining orders and injunctions. I need to keep her away from Gustaf and away from our kids.”

He choked up a little, she was protecting him, fighting for him, for them. Our kids, Gustaf’s grin bloomed, he liked the sound of that, our kids, not hers, ours.

“I’ll send you over the police report, any findings. Are you filing yourself?”

“I’ll probably get Elsa to file on our behalf, she knows the kids and history which makes it easier. I’m too close to this to keep a level head. Gustaf has his own team of lawyers so I’ll talk to him and see what he wants to do.” She sighed.

“I’m going to head back to her place and try to track her down later today, I’ll up the urgency as much as I can. It’ll help once the orders and injunctions are in place, send me a copy as soon as they’re filed. I might be able to sit someone on her for a few days. I’m sorry there isn’t more I can get her on at the moment.”

“Give it time.” She muttered. “She’ll come at me again I’m sure.”

“People like that usually don’t stop or change.” He said softly. “Just be careful.”

“Plan on it. Thanks for the update and keep me in the loop?” She asked.

“Of course. I’ll email the reports over in about twenty.”

“Sounds good. Thanks Leon. I appreciate everything you can do.” She hung up and sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face. Taking a few deep breaths she got her thoughts down, and started making breakfast. As she put the bacon in the oven she called Elsa. Dana’s partner picked up on the third ring with a cautious hello.

“Elsa, hey it’s Sildie.”

“Everything ok?”

“Sort of, the kids are fine, but we had an incident at Gustaf’s apartment, and mine.”

“What’s going on?”

He could hear her on the phone, laying out the entire situation from the office Christmas party, to Lucas’s visit, to the tagging of their front doors. Who was she speaking to now, he wondered?

“Can I make a suggestion?” Elsa asked, all business.

“Anything at this point. Just tell me I’m not overreacting.” She sighed pinching the bridge of her nose near her eyes to relieve the headache she could feel brewing.

“File the restraining orders, the injunctions, they probably won’t do much to deter her, but at least it’ll go on her record if she confronts you. I suggest Gustaf do the same, I’ll draw it up for him to save time. Have him send me his lawyers contact info and I’ll keep them in the loop. Once yours is filed I’ll file for the kids. I’m with you on that Sildie, let’s get them protected just in case.”

“Can you have them to me by today?” She chewed on her bottom lip, the anxiety building. “I know it’s the holidays but...”

“Give me a couple of hours and I’ll email it over. Once you’re both happy with them I’ll file it electronically and they can serve her with them this afternoon.” Elsa cut in. “It’s no issue Sildie.”

“I just got off the phone with the detective, they’ll need a copy too.” She said softly and relayed her conversation to get Elsa up to speed. “I’m so fucking angry. We’ve worked hard to get the kids settled, moved in together, fought hard to get through all her shit, he doesn’t need this Elsa, none of them do.”

“I don’t blame you, I’d be pissed too and you don’t need this either Sildie. You’ve gone through enough shit in the past year yourself. I’d call Lindstrom, and Lucas. I don’t think this will help his case, but it could add weight if the drugs have her prints and especially if the drugs are the same chemical signature as the ones Lucas found in his apartment.” Elsa let the silence linger giving Sildie a moment to think.

“He’s my next call. I’ll send you over a cease and desist and let’s add that to the injunction.” She chewed on her bottom lips and let the case fall into place in her mind. “It’ll need to include Gustaf’s family as well, mother, father, all his siblings. I need them all covered. Eija and Alex are in this mess as well if she goes that far.”

“Done, we can file it all together, cake walk.” Elsa said taking more notes as Sildie rattled off the full names of each sibling and their addresses.

He lay there thinking over what he’d just heard. His goddess protecting everything and everyone he loved, those that was dear to him. “What did I do to deserve you lovely lady?” He mumbled, in awe of the woman he’d fallen so hard for.

“I want to hit her with it all, I’m not fucking around and I want it made perfectly clear I will not put up with her shit.” She growled, her mind was made up, all or nothing, she had a family to protect and a sweet man that had worked too damn hard for a measure of peace.

He knew that tone and quietly got up, pulling some sweats on before shuffling out to the kitchen. She was riding on fury, the seething anger fueling her determination to stitch this up tight, the underlying emotion ready to tear her apart when she was done.

“Give me until one Sildie and I’ll call you once I’ve sent it over.”

“Thanks Elsa, sorry to ruin your new year so quickly.” Her eyes flicked to Gustaf and away again as she paced the room. So angry, he thought, this was nothing like the night she’d ripped into him in his workout room, or when she got drunk outside her apartment, this was a whole other level of supremely fucked off.

“There nothing I won’t do to protect Dana’s kids, or you. We’ll keep them safe.”

“I owe you one.”

“Girls night out sometime, I miss that.” Elsa chuckled.

“Done. Thanks again.” Her smile lightened his concern a little, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Anytime Sildie, and I mean that. You could have called last night and I would have answered.”

Sildie chuckled. “I was still processing it. Bye for now.” She knew he’d been there for the last part of the conversation and she sighed out the tension as his arms wrapped around her.

“Everything ok?”

“It will be. I have paperwork in process and I need your lawyers information.” She turned to kiss him. “Elsa will do up a restraining order and injunction for you and your family and have your team look over it before filing.”

“Looking after me?” He said gently.

“Damn right I’m looking after you.” She muttered as his mouth claimed that one spot on her neck.

“I like it when you look after me, get all feisty.” She could feel the smirk against her skin, he was trying to get her to relax, take her mind off it.

“And what are you doing out of bed? I told you to stay there so I could bring you food.” She flicked his nose before kissing him with a slight smile. Her attempt at hiding the anger was a good effort, but he saw it for what it was, she was scared.

“I heard your tone change.” He said gently. “I wanted to make sure you’re ok.” He could hear the stress and anxiety in her voice and knew she’d need to release it and soon before the anxiety pushed her into a panic attack.

“I’ll be better when I have shit in place that clearly states. Don’t fuck with me and mine.” She tapped his arm as the timer went off to pull the bacon out of the oven. “I have to call Lindstrom and Lucas in a bit too. I don’t know if this will help his case any, but they need to know.” She turned the pan on to make scrambled eggs and let the task calm her.

He let her talk, the more she was talking about it the less she was holding in, they were a team and even though they were still finding their feet as a couple, this was what built trust and dependability, they were there for each other tackling shit together.

“So because it’s an isolated incident they may not be able to use it?” He asked trying to understand how it all worked.

“Exactly. It has nothing to do with Lucas, but, if the drugs in the dudes apartment have her prints, same chemical makeup, it could help their case. It’s a pattern.”

“It was a stupid move on her part.” He muttered. “Letting herself be seen.”

“It was, but I don’t think she knew we had cameras installed.” Sildie said honestly.

“And I don’t think she knows what she’s up against with you love. Most people back down and can’t be bothered with the hassle of going to the police, so she gets away with it. I’m guilty of doing exactly that, I just kicked her out I didn’t call the police on her. Not you though, you’re like a fucking pitt bull.” He chuckled.

“I can’t watch her fuck with you again.” She said quietly, her tone quivering. “And she sure as shit doesn’t get to fuck with our kids.” She spat.

“No, she doesn’t. Is there anything I can do? Need to do to help this along? Anything?” He said tenderly, fingers stroking her cheek.

She shook her head. “No, just your lawyers info and let me handle her.” She busied plating the eggs and stacked the bacon beside it. “If they establish a pattern with her purchasing drugs it could drag you into it.” She said quietly and felt like she’d kicked a puppy when she looked at him.

“Shit.” He felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath him.

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I don’t know if that’s her plan, but it’s a possibility and I don’t want it to blindside you.” She kissed him tenderly. “Talk to your lawyers.” She said bluntly. “I’m absolutely serious.” She added when he snorted. “I’m talking to Lindstrom here in a bit and I’ll be asking him to represent you if things go pear shaped.”

“You seriously think it could go that far?” He asked, a touch of fear edging his voice.

“If, and that’s a big if, if they establish pattern they can charge her with more. It becomes trafficking which is a heftier charge. I’d have to look it up, but it adds weight against her case and in favor for Lucas’s. If they establish pattern and look deeper they could look at your relationship with her, same pattern. You found drugs she’d purchased and kicked her out. What about the person before you, and before them? Same deal I suspect. Just be prepared ok?”

“I didn’t even think of that.” He said slightly stunned.

“I don’t know what her end game is love. I can only give you plausible worst case scenarios with evidence that may not be viable. I don’t know whether it’s to bring you down, smear you across the media, or to get back at me for calling her out on her shit at the Christmas party, but I’m not going to see you dragged into a fight blindly.” She picked up a piece of bacon and nibbled, her mind chewing over everything, the fury still rolling off her in waves. “And you sure as shit aren’t facing her on your own.”

“I’m sorry love.” He murmured and kissed her temple drawing her close.

”No, you don’t get to apologize for her either. This is shitty, but I’m not going to stand by and watch her try to destroy you again. She picked the wrong bitch to fuck with this time.” She was so angry, more out of fear for Gustaf and the kids than herself. “Sorry. I don’t mean to snarl and snipe at you, I’m just so fucking livid.”

“I know.” He kissed her brow again. “Let it go now.” He murmured. “Together love.” He said softly, his fingers toying with her wisps of hair at her cheek. “Let it go.”

“I know.” She sighed and felt the fight drain from her as he kissed her brow and lingered. “I know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Fuck this blows.” She huffed.

“Yeah, but you were right with what you said last night. We can’t let her get between us or let her win, she’s a blip. We deal with the blip and move on with what we’re doing, our life. Together.” He put the kettle on to boil as they stood and ate the rest of their meal at the kitchen counter, she was too agitated to sit still. Once the tea was made and she’d eaten half of her plate he pulled her to him. “Do what you need to do, then let it be for the day, because then I want to take you back to bed and finish what we started last night.” He growled as he nuzzled her neck.

Her giggle lightened his heart. “You’re right.” She kissed him sinfully, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Let me make some calls and then we can let it go for the day.”

“That’s my girl.” He purred, mouth savaging hers. She left the comfort of his arms to walk toward her office, the nibble of her bottom lip more out of being lost in thought of her upcoming conversation than teasing, the smack to her ass however was firm enough to sting. “Don’t push your luck kitten.” He growled. She sent him a wicked smirk and her thoughts seemed to change mid stride.

She was sure he was going to spank her last night but didn’t, understandibly, would he do it today? “Fuck I hope so.” She sighed to herself as she sat at her desk and turned her computer on. She could do with some borderline pleasurable pain to get over whatever this was she was feeling. Anger, resentment, fury, rage, guilt, grief, jealousy, all of the above, she thought. It was the jealousy that unnerved her, such an ugly emotion and she was better than that.

She made her own notes, her own case file, documenting everything that happened and the steps she’d taken to protect her family. Her family, she thought and her fingers stopped over the keys as she looked at the digital photo frame of the six of them, the only family she had left. She would protect them the only way she knew how, with the law. She’d fought for the kids before and she’d fight for Gustaf and his family too.

He left her to work knowing that if he interrupted her now he’d get the lawyer land stare. She had a process, and a need to make this right, to protect him, to protect the kids in her own way. Pulling the gloves on he worked the bag, his own need to process his thoughts, he needed the physical exertion. Letting the events of last night play in his mind he dealt with the anger and frustration that came with it, pounding the bag mercilessly until his muscles begged him to stop. He felt better for it once he sat for meditation, the calm washing over him and filling him much quicker and easier now he’d put it in its place. The process had become easier since Sildie, the calm he found with her. She was right, he’d come too far to let minor shit with Ana get in his head and fuck with him. And this was minor shit, an inconvenience, a blip.

She could hear him in his workout room as she put the kettle on to boil and decided to leave him be. The door was open and he wasn’t shutting her out, he was processing last night just as she had been doing as she worked. He’d come to her when he was done and knew his mindset would be better for it. Taking the fresh pot of tea to her office she sat and called Lucas.

“Sildie? Hi, happy new year.” Lucas said brightly, but she could hear the uncertainty in his voice, probably wondering why she was calling him.

“Hey, happy new year.” She tried to sound cheerful and failed.

“Everything ok?”

“Not really, no. You got a minute to chat?” She chewed on her lip.

“Of course, what’s going on?” His tone became instantly concerned.

She relayed the events of last night, the paperwork she’d already filed and scrubbed a hand over her face. “I don’t know where that leaves you, or how it affects you, but I wanted you to know.”

“Shit.” He sighed out. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault, you’re not responsible for her actions.” She said a little too harshly and was sure he’d flinched at her tone. “Sorry, I’m a little pissy.” She added hearing her abrasive tone and took a breath.

“I know, I just... you know what I mean. I’m surprised you haven’t hit nuclear yet.” He said huffing a chuckle.

“I’m working on it.” She snorted.

“Definitely call Lindstrom. I’ll catch him up on most of it tomorrow when we discuss charges of my own against her for the funds she stole, but he’ll want to hear it from you.” Lucas added.

“I need to talk to him about another matter too.” She said and told him her theory and possible pattern of behavior landing Gustaf in the hot seat. “I’ll copy you on our case, in the event it helps yours.”

“Shit Sildie, I didn’t even think of that. What are you guys going to do?” He asked.

“Let it play out for now. I want Lindstrom in our corner if it goes south. If she comes for me again we’re protected, law wise, other than that there’s not much more I can do.”

“Good plan. How did she get into the building, I thought they had it locked down?” He asked as she poured her tea.

“Her newest squeeze lives downstairs.” She told him of her conversation with Leon. “I know it’s petty but she’s due for some fucking karma.” She sighed out sipping her tea. “I just want her gone from our lives.”

“God yes, you and me both. Leon’s a good guy, he’ll keep it active.” She could hear the honesty in his voice.

“You holding up ok?” She asked sipping her tea.

“Yeah. It looks as though they’re not going to charge me. She tried to cover her tracks, but didn’t do a very good job of it. I’m about to have it out with the bank. It just adds more weight, you know how it is. Slow and methodical, build the case.”

“Good luck with the bank. Knowing her she had a whole cocked up sob story to get her whatever her little black heart desired.” Sildie snarked, god she was in such a pissy mood as she heard her tone.

“No doubt.”

“Anyway, I gotta run.” She said as Gustaf appeared in the doorway, empty cup in hand searching for the teapot. “I just wanted you to know what she was up to.”

“I appreciate it Sildie. Call Lindstrom he’ll want to know.”

“Sounds good, take care.”

“You too.”

She hung up and blew a breath out, scrubbing a hand over her face. “Fuck me I want to hunt that bitch down and end her myself right the fuck now.” She huffed and let it go, she had to or it would eat her alive. Too fucking late she thought, she was irritable and on edge, and it made her twitchy. She hated twitchy.

“She’ll get what she’s owed love, in spades.” He said softly as he placed his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned in to kiss her sweetly. He hated seeing her like this. “You’ll end her your own way, with the law behind you.” He kissed her again. “What else is bothering you love?”

“I don’t know.” She said quickly, a little too quickly, but she was telling the truth, she didn’t know what was up today. Was it Ana, last night with his family, remnants of the move, Christmas, she wondered? It was like someone had shaken up a hornets nest and made her swallow it whole.

“I don’t like seeing you on edge like this.” He said gently.

“I don’t like being on edge, but I am, and I don’t know why.” Her voice cracked as a surge of unwelcome emotion threatened to consume her.

He kissed her tenderly. “Are you done for the day?” He asked, lips ghosting hers. He wanted to take care of her, soothe her and help her to find the release she needed to deal with whatever this emotion was that had her so worked up. That was the one thing he could give her, the sex that set her free, that allowed her to let go of the control and rid herself of whatever it was smothering her, suffocating her.

“I just have to wait for Elsa to call me back at one and I need to email Lindstrom. There’s not much he can do today that can’t wait until he’s back in the office, but I want it there in his inbox first thing when Lucas talks to him.” She murmured relaxing back and letting him slowly devour her mouth. Her phone rang and she smirked against his lips. “It must be one.”

“Must be. Come back to bed when you’re done love.” He said, the hint of demand lacing his words, it wasn’t a request. He would set her free on another level, and she needed it, he thought.

“Hi Elsa.” She said answering the call and watching him as he walked to the door. She bit her bottom lip as he turned to look at her, the heated desire in his glare spoke volumes.

That look from under her lashes and her bottom lip trapped between her teeth was enough to send his arousal into the stratosphere. With a deep rumbling snarl he stalked to the bedroom and set his plan in motion.

“Thanks Elsa. I’ll sign these and get them straight back to you.” She said with a steady breath.

“I’ll have them served this afternoon.”

“You’re the best.” She breathed a sigh of relief, she’d done all she could today to make sure they were safe yet she felt it wasn’t enough.

“I’ve sent a copy to Gustaf’s team, but his isn’t as urgent as yours and the kids. Yours will cover his apartment because that’s where you’re living. I’ve covered all the bases with the injunction and your cease and desist is perfect, I can have that cover Gustaf and his family as well, I’ll modify it to fit.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’ll call you next week, I have to run.” Elsa chuckled when her four year old screamed from the other room.

“No problem and thanks again Elsa.”

“You bet.”

She read and signed each order and emailed it back to Elsa, the weight lifting from her shoulders the moment she hit send. “I’ve done all I can do.” She breathed out shakily. “Now we let it be.” She huffed a breath out. “Yeah... right.” Yes she’d taken it as far as she could legally take it by protecting Gustaf’s family, but there was always the what if. She thought of Eija and Alex in particular and knew she now had to give them a heads up. “It never fucking ends.” She growled and scrubbed a hand over her face.

She took the teapot to the kitchen and rinsed it out.

“Hey can you text me the phone numbers for Eija and Alex?” She asked Gustaf as he walked into the kitchen.

“Sure, everything ok?” He asked as he’d come into the kitchen to talk to her about the kids and was completely thrown off by her request.

“Yeah, or it will be. I had the restraining orders against Ana include your family. They all need to know if Ana contacts them in any way they need to call the police and file a complaint.”

“Well shit.” He sighed.

“Yeah, it’s a pain in the ass, but this is how you build a case. Every time she contacts someone with a restraining order it goes in her file and won’t look so good with those sorts of violations on her record when she goes to court.”

He hastily texted her the numbers she requested and added Sam, and Valter. “Text them all, it’ll be better coming from you, I’ll only fuck up the wording.” He snorted, it was the truth.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. This is your realm love not mine, but I’ll back you up all the way.” He kissed her tenderly. “Dad and Megan texted, which is why I came out here. They’re taking the kids to a movie and bowling.” He said as he turned her in his arms to nibble her neck. “And they’re keeping the kids tonight as well.” His father had offered once Gustaf had told him of their welcome home present last night. They both needed another night and the kids were happy spending time with grandpa.

“Oh, they... ok.” She stammered, she felt her gut sink suddenly, that jealousy churning inside her. Would they be ok was her first thought and then scolded herself for being so silly. Of course they’ll be ok, she snapped at herself silently. The jealousy was another matter, it sat heavy inside her like a greasy taint.

“You’re not ok with it?” He shook his head, he should have cleared it with her first. I’m an idiot, he swore silently, such an idiot.

“No, I’m fine with it, just wasn’t expecting... never mind.” She shook her head, she couldn’t let her emotions cloud the fact the kids now had a family that cared, to give them what she missed out on. That wasn’t fair on them and she wouldn’t be that person. “It’s a good thing.” She had to give a little here, Gustaf should make decisions for them as well, she knew he had their best interests at heart. It was all just happening at an alarming rate and she wasn’t sure she was handling it all very well. Let’s be real, she scoffed internally, you’re not handling any of this well.

“As long as you’re fine with it. I’ll ask next time.” He mentally kicked himself again for not asking in the first place.

“No it’s ok, I trust you with them love, I just need to relinquish control and I’m just... pissy.” She snarked at herself. “I’m trying, but you know me, control freak extraordinaire.” She snapped.

“I know you’re trying love. He offered and I thought it would be nice for them and for us.” He wanted to make her feel less of the stress she was currently burdened with. This was so much more than Ana, more than Quinn.

“I’m sorry, I’m on edge and irritated at everything. I need to text your family.” Her tone was abrasive as she pulled away from him to go do exactly what she’d said.

He knew her mood wasn’t because of him, but it stung, it hurt to see her wrestling something he couldn’t see, couldn’t fix, and her not being able to voice it made it that much worse. Was it last night, he wondered, the jealousy she’d felt? It was a deeper emotion, something that had surged forward along with everything else. “My love.” He muttered as she stomped away. “How do I help you?” His text tone chimed and he read it as she wandered back into the kitchen. He gave her room, some space to digest events, her own emotions.

Hi Everyone

Her text read.

Gustaf and I will chat with you all later in the week to give you the details, but so you are aware, due to an incident at our home last night we have a restraining order out against Ana. The order lists all of you, so if she contacts you in any way please contact the police and file a report. Please have them attach it to the following: Restraining Order #936358-ND-65. Attention: Detective Leon Holmberg. If she contacts you say nothing other than “you are violating your restraining order, I can’t talk to you” and walk away or hang up, do not engage her in conversation in any manner even if she continues to follow you, talk, or harass you. The order is for your protection, please use it. I’ll email you copies and further instruction once the paperwork is served on her this afternoon. Please keep that in mind the more she contacts you the worse it is for her providing you file the report and don’t retaliate.

His phone rang a moment later and he smirked as Eija’s number came on the screen.

“What’s up nugget?” He said cheerily and saw the quick smile on Sildie’s face at his endearment.

“What’s up? Really Goose? Your girlfriend sends me a text saying all hell broke loose last night and you ask me what’s up? You fucker, why didn’t you call me?” Her tone dripping with sarcasm. “You guys ok?”

“Were fine.” He said gently as he watched Sildie pace, it was eating at her.

“Put me on speaker.” He did as she asked and pulled Sildie to him, anything to calm the raging storm under her skin.

“Hi Eija.” Sildie said softly.

“Hi back. What the fuck happened?” Sildie appreciated Eija, blunt and to the point much like she was. Gustaf relayed the events of the evening sensing Sildie was over talking to people about this for the day, it was his family after all and he needed to pick up the slack.

“Sildie you need anything from me you call ok?” Eija said fiercely. “I don’t give a fuck about what time it is or what I’m in the middle of, where you or the kids are, you need me, you fucking call.”

“Thanks Eija.” She smiled, the feeling of being accepted by his family choking her up. How did she deserve this, deserve them? Family pulls together when something happens, protects each other, this was so new for her. Hadn’t Stellan said the exact same thing to her last night?

Gustaf fielded calls from all his siblings and finally his mother as Sildie sipped her tea and zoned out. He’d only heard his mother get angry a few times in her life, but she was beyond livid, not at Sildie, or at him, angry at the situation and the potential harm it could do to her kids, her family. He promised to call her later in the week, to come over for lunch.

“Your dad texted me back letting me know the kids are safe and will continue to be.” She said softly still staring at her phone. How did she process such love from a family that barely knew her, a family that accepted her so openly and unconditionally?

“He’ll keep them safe love.” He murmured, bundling her into his arms. “My dad is a force to be reckoned with when he’s angry, especially if it involves his kids, or in this case, his grand kids.” He kissed her gently and looked at her slightly perplexed when she pulled away to pace. She was agitated, still on edge and he was at a loss as to why. He watched her take her laptop back to her office and disappear.

“My love, how do I help you when you push me away?” He sighed and went to the bedroom, knowing she was compartmentalizing to get through this shit storm before falling apart. She had the email to write to Lindstrom and once that was done he’d see to it that she relaxed and decompressed.

She typed furiously as the letter to Lindstrom flowed easily. Laying out their case, the possibility of pattern behavior, Gustaf, Lucas, her kids. She choked and sucked a shuddered breath in. Her limit of holding back her anxiety had almost reach critical mass for the day and knew once the letter was sent her system was going to freak the fuck out and own her ass. After sending the email to Lindstrom, she sent emails to Oliver, Daisy, the school, and daycare, hockey, soccer, covered all bases. She knew she was being overly cautious. “Better than the alternative.” She muttered.

Gustaf was nowhere to be found in the main living area when she eventually emerged from her office, her laptop now closed, paperwork neatly stacked. Coming into the bedroom she could hear water running from the en-suite and figured he was taking a shower. He must be so upset with me, she thought. Her behavior wasn’t exactly pleasant today, she’d snapped and spat at him all day like some deranged cat, anger and rage mixed with jealousy. She didn’t like herself when she got like this.

“Good timing.” He said as he stepped into the room to find her standing at the window staring out at the snowfall.

“I’m sorry.” She said softly, her eyes fixed on the fat snowflakes tumbling to the ground.

“For what love?” He came to stand beside her, the urge to touch her strong, but he sensed she needed to come to him, her system frazzled.

“For the way I spoke to you earlier, I’ve been in a pisser of a mood since I woke up and I’ve been taking it out on you. That’s not who I am and you deserve better from me.” She choked.

“It’s ok.” His tone tender.

“No, Gustaf it’s not.” She said turning to face him, the tell tale wheeze of her anxiety prevalent. “I don’t like being this person, the one that’s so fucking terrified that she bites your head off every chance she gets.” She struggled to suck in a breath and he was in front of her a heart beat later.

“Breathe.” He commanded softly, leaning his forehead against hers as she tried to do as he asked. “And again love.” He murmured, as she managed a small one. He talked to her, helping her focus on one breath after another until she took a deep breath and let it shudder out.

“I’m sorry.” She choked. “I don’t like who I am right now.”

He kissed her, full on wrapped her face in his gigantic hands and devoured every inch of that gorgeous mouth. It wasn’t seductive, it was to shut her up and shock her into silence, it worked. “It’s ok. Sometimes you have to get in the mood to get shit done, to kick some ass and take some names, you’ve done that. All day you’ve done that. Now it’s time to let it be.” He murmured and kissed her tenderly.

“I’m scared.” She admitted quietly. “And this jealousy I have no fucking right to feel just bubbles out of nowhere.” Her tone was so lost, he thought. It hadn’t been that way for a while.

“I know you’re scared love.” He took a chance and slowly bundled her into his arms. “I’m not feeling particularly great about it all either. But as you keep reminding me, we can’t let her win.” Her snort made him smirk.

“God you’re so fucking right.” She sighed. “And here I am letting her do exactly that.” She was such an idiot.

“At least you channeled it into something useful.” He chuckled taking a dig at himself. “I’ll remind you if you remind me?” He said gently as he kissed her brow.

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I. I should have got my lazy ass up and helped.” He scoffed at himself.

“There wasn’t anything for you to help with really.”

“I could have made breakfast.” He smiled at her chuckle, she was coming back to him. “So, to make up for that faux pas, come with me a moment.” He took her by the hand and led her to the bathroom where the tub was full, bubbles and the soft candlelight almost instantly calming her. “In you get. I’m going to make tea and come and join you.”

“I love you.” She said softly, her voice quavering, he was so good to her.

“I love you too.” He kissed her tenderly as he slipped the silk robe from her shoulders, hands roaming her body with a need to soothe, to nurture, to give. “Get in the tub love. Let it be done for today and relax.” He murmured, his lips ghosting hers before he kissed her slowly and pulled away to go and make tea.

Her moan was delirious as she slipped into the blistering hot water, he knew how she liked it. Letting the thoughts of the day melt from her brain she started to drift, the anxiety falling away to finally allow her to relax. She’d done all she could to keep those she loved safe, to help start building a case against Ana if it came to that. Her thoughts went to the kids, the ten day vacation in the snow that Gustaf had booked, and smiled. That would be some good bonding time for all of them. How could she be jealous of that? “Stupid.” She huffed. “You’re just being a selfish stupid woman.”

The clink of china on the tile roused her from the warm and sleepy state she’d fallen into while he’d been gone, the thoughts of children of their own again drifting through her consciousness every now and then.

“You’re all soft and sleepy.” He said quietly, the arousal of her in such a state edging his tone. Bending down to kiss her his hand slipped beneath the water to touch her, fingers teasing as his mouth claimed hers. “Can I join you?”

“Mmmm.” She sighed dreamily. Moving forward Gustaf climbed in behind her and stretched out, bundling her into his lap.

“Now this is much better.” He purred, the water easing the stress from his body in an instant. “I brought snacks, I figured you wouldn’t want a huge meal.”

“It’s perfect.” She relaxed back against that massive chest, his arms curling around her protectively, the tenderness of his touch reassuring her that they would be ok. They talked softly, sipping their tea, snacking, the lazy strokes of his fingers making her entire body turn to goo. He smirked against the nape of her neck as a shiver skittered over her skin as his lips tended a favorite spot.

“I’m falling asleep I’m so relaxed.” She chuckled, his mouth seductively toying with her earlobe.

“I love it when you’re all soft and warm and sleepy.” He dipped his head down to gently bite her shoulder.

“I know you do.” She sighed as his hands cupped her breasts. Turning the jets on he continued to caress her body, arouse her, seduce her, determined to see her fully relaxed and sated before sleep claimed her.

When she was almost a complete mess he helped her out of the bath and wrapped a towel around her, pulling her close. He had a need to take care of her today, after all the upheaval of the last twenty four hours he needed it as much as she did.

Walking her back to the bed his mouth claimed hers, lazy, tender, yet demanding. Fingers removed the towel and he kissed her as she climbed on to the bed. Rolling her to her side he wrapped her top leg around him and slipped into that glorious wet heat. He made love to her, pulling each soft cry and whimper from her with heartbreaking tenderness.

“Gustaf.” Her voice choked, he could hear the sob waiting ready to fall as soon as she came.

“I know love, let it take you.” He murmured, the slow, deep thrusts caressing that one spot inside her that would be her undoing. His finger stroked over her clit, the sensation tipping her over the edge. She came hard, the soft cry of his name tumbling from her lips peaking his own release. Quickening his pace slightly he rode out their bliss, coming hard.

Her body shook as he slowed and gently pulled out to lay beside her, the tears came next. He was expecting them after the stress of the morning, the anger that still simmered beneath the surface, her inner turmoil. “Come here love.” He murmured, curling her into him. “Let it go.” He kissed her hair, the scent of her soothing him.

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed.

“It’s fine. Let it go.” He soothed as his fingers gently raked through her hair. She calmed eventually, the sobs giving way to just tears, Gustaf didn’t know what was worse really, he hated it when she cried but knew that sometimes she was better for it. “Too much today and last night.” He said softly.

“Overload.” She sniffed, as she burrowed into his chest, his scent soothing the rough edges of her distress and the strength she found with him.

“Sleep now love.” He kissed her brow and pulled the covers over them both.

“Boring for you.” She scoffed, her tone telling him she was already drifting.

“I have you in my arms love, nothing boring about that. I think we could both use the rest.” She craned her head back to look at him.

“I love you and I’m sorry.” She said gently, her fingers brushing his lips.

“I love you and I’m sorry too.” He smiled and nipped her fingers. “That tickles.” He chuckled and her smile loosened the tight feeling in his chest. “Close you eyes and sleep, or just drift, switch that wicked smart brain of yours off for a few hours. We have nowhere to be or to do anything else today.” He soothed, his fingers coasting up and down the length of her side. “A nap will be good for both of us.”

“I’m scared.” She whispered, as if voicing it would bring down a world of hurt on them both.

“I know you are love, I am too.” He snuggled her in tighter. “But we stick together, you and me.” Her nod made him smile. “We’ll have a week and change with the kids in the snow, far away from her and all this shit. We’ll take a breath, recharge, and then hit her with everything we have.” He kissed her hair. “I’m not going to let her destroy what we have Sildie.” He vowed, and her head came up off his chest and her kiss was fierce.

“I love you sweet man.”

“She doesn’t get to fuck with this family.” He growled. She kissed him, that tender kiss that rocked him to his core.

“You’re so much stronger than her.”

“Because I have you. You make me a better man Sildie, a better person, and she doesn’t get to fuck with that.”

“I’m worried about the kids, when they go back to school.” She was still processing, struggling to switch it off.

“I know love. Hopefully this will be done by then. And if it isn’t...” He tangled his fingers in that copper halo he adored and devoured her mouth slowly. “If it isn’t, we’ll deal with it, together, you and me.” He smiled at her. “Though I don’t think you’d have any problem kicking her ass seven ways to Sunday on your own regardless.” He gave her lips a quick peck in jest. “But you’re not alone love, I’ll help take her down anyway I can.” He kissed her tenderly. “Sleep a bit now ok?” Shut it down for a few hours and recharge.”

“Will you stay?” She breathed out as he felt her entire body relax into him, the need to know he would be here when she woke overwhelming.

“I’m not going anywhere love.” He kissed her hair as he felt her plummet into sleep at his words.

His thoughts drifted, there was nothing else either of them could do about the current situation. They had exhausted all options apart from committing homicide to rid the world of Ana’s existence. Sildie had busted ass today to keep everyone he loved safe, not just him and the kids, but his entire family. A family that she’d only just become a part of, a family that she was still getting a feel for, so new, so daunting, yet she’d defended them, protected them without hesitation. “How do I deserve someone as wonderful as you my love?” He whispered, breathing her in. The warmth of her against him pulling him into sleep, those soft curves pressed to him in all the right places.

He was woken by soft, lazy kisses from a woman just waking up herself. Half asleep he deepened it. “My Sildie.” He murmured, the rasp in his voice causing her to moan, her lips searching for more of him, more from him.

“I love waking up to you.” She breathed, those Viking blue eyes fluttering open to look at her. His hands were already moving along her body, a touch so gentle, so loving. It was a time for them to reconnect, the lazy seduction and sloppy kisses exactly what they needed. He’d never had this with any other woman, the spontaneity, the relaxed love making to soothe more than just the act of fucking each other.

“Roll over.” He murmured against her mouth, fingers enticing her to move onto her side. “Mmmmm. Much better.” He purred as he spooned her, hands tenderly cupping her breasts, thumbs exciting her nipples to hardened buds. His movements were unhurried, carefree but not careless, her own equally arousing.

She could feel his hardening length against her thigh, the lazy thrusts as he flexed his hips, grinding against her. Relaxing back into him she gave herself over to his talented fingers dancing along her skin, the arousal pooling at her entrance.

“Scoot your leg forward.” He murmured, and guided it to where he wanted it, mouth sucking on a tender spot below her ear.

“Spoony sex.” She giggled.

“Mmmm, never done this one?” He asked softly as his fingers drifted over her navel and inched toward her clit.

“No.” She sighed.

“Spoon sex is lazy.” He kissed a trail down her neck. “Slow.” His tongue darted out to flick the pulse at her neck before he sucked on it gently. “Erotic, unhurried, and with the right partner, beautiful. Just like you.” He kissed her as her head turned to look at him. “I love you Sildie.” His fingers trailed her jaw as he studied her face, he could never get enough of her.

“I love you too.” Her hand cupped the side of his face as she claimed his mouth, tongue dancing with his.

“Relax.” He breathed and went back to completely destroying her system. Those clever fingers stoked her arousal, eventually slipping between her folds and over her clit where he circled it slowly. “Feel good?” He whispered as her breath hitched and that soft whimper fell from her lips.

“Yes.”

Taking his cock in his hand he stroked the engorged tip through her juices, her heat making his own breath catch. Pausing at her entrance he continued to torment her clit. His pace was devilishly slow, pulling out every sensation her body had to offer her and setting fire to it. With a gentle flex of his hips he inched the tip inside her, the stretch to her opening causing that moan to tumble out. “You like that.”

“God yes. So big.” She gasped as he started thrusting, slow and shallow. “Gustaf.” He was so thick with her legs like this she almost thought he wouldn’t fit. Her belly and pussy fluttered, the muscles eager to feel him, every glorious inch of him.

“Let it take you love.” He purred, lips teasing the shell of her ear as his fingers kept the same torturous rhythm. “Let me feel you.” Her arm reached back and held him behind his head as she tensed, her body poised to shatter.

“I can’t.” She choked.

“Breathe and come for me.” He murmured tenderly and gently sucked the pulse at her neck. It was enough to tip her over, that gorgeous cry of his name as she came, her pussy clamping down around him. “Feels good.” He growled. “So good.” He continued to take her apart, the steady rhythm building each orgasm and letting it crash over her again and again.

“Come with me.” She gasped as another built, the need to feel him find release, find his own pleasure, to feel him pulse inside her.

He shifted slightly and thrust deeper, her cry one of surprise it could feel that good and total euphoria at being filled. “You’re so tight like this.” His breathing not as steady as before. They took each other, slow and deep, drawing out the intense pleasure. “Sildie.” His tone that deep timbre she loved, one he only used for her. He bit down on her shoulder gently as she peaked, the struggle to keep in control until she came almost painful.

He felt her fall over the edge, the savage grip of her pussy as she came making her that much tighter. Keeping the same rhythm he held her tightly to him as he tensed, his release thundering through him, the soft groan as he found his pleasure making her smile. Slowing to a stop they lay there sated, loose, and relaxed.

“I think you liked that.” He grinned against her hair as her quiet chuckle filled the room.

“There is nothing about our sex life I don’t like.” She half turned in his arms to look at him. “I like lazy, spoony sex.” Her kiss was smoldering.

“That’s illegal.” He breathed. “Yet so fucking good.” His growl made her chuckle.

“Food? I have no idea what the time is, but I’m hungry.”

“It’s only seven.” He said glancing at his phone. He kissed her and deepened it when her tongue teased his. “Plenty of time for food and more of you.” The smirk at her lips wasn’t lost on him.

“I like the sound of more of you.” She purred and nipped his jaw. “Food first.” They untangled themselves and headed to the kitchen, Sildie quite happy to wander the apartment naked.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb

[ckret2]

Heal Our Wounds

Long after the titan fight in Boston, Serizawa wakes up in a hospital bed, recovering unusually fast from radiation burns he only vaguely remembers receiving. Monarch immediately drowns him in love and attention.

Mark and Madison drop by to share a gift—and some of their post-Boston worries.

Has it really been two and a half months since the last fic, wtf. Anyway this is part of an ongoing series of post-KOTM almost-everybody-lives AU oneshots. If you don’t wanna read the others, all you need to know is that Serizawa survived and nobody knows how/why (answer: because I wanted him to), and Ghidorah's been chilling with Rodan and possibly dating him. Links to the other fics are in the source at the bottom of this post.

###

The first thing Serizawa noticed as Mark and Madison came into the hospital room was that they both had dark rings under their eyes. Serizawa was getting used to seeing his friends and colleagues like that. But they both smiled and their tired eyes lit up when they saw him.

He returned the smiles. "So! You've finally made time to visit me, eh?" he said chidingly, as if they'd just dropped in on him and not as if Mark had scheduled this visit a week earlier.

Madison immediately ran up to him for a hug. Mark reached out for her, mouth opened to warn her back; but Serizawa held up a hand to prevent Mark's protests. "It's fine," he mouthed to Mark over Madison's shoulder as he hugged her back.

"Wow," Mark said. "You're looking better already. A lot better."

Serizawa nodded and shrugged at the same time. "The doctors say I've been very fortunate," he said. "I think Gojira had a hand in it."

He wasn't sure Mark bought that, but Mark had the grace to keep his mouth shut and just tilt his head indecisively.

"How are you feeling?" Madison asked as she stood up.

"A little sore," Serizawa said. "But mostly tired. I've been recovering well, though."

Madison circled to the other side of Serizawa's bed so she could sit in the guest chair next to him. Mark followed her, but leaned against the bedside table. Serizawa really did have to ask the nurses if they could bring some more chairs into the room. Since he'd been cleared to receive visitors, his room had become a nonstop parade during visiting hours: Monarch staff and their families, government officials and sometimes their translators looking for advice on how to deal with their respective nations' new gigantic residents, various journalists and reporters interviewing him on current events and his involvement in the mass awakening of the titans...

And everyone seemed to start out with the same question: "I know you've told everyone that you don't remember how you made it from the bottom of the ocean all the way to Boston," Mark said hesitantly, "but...?" He shrugged questioningly. "I mean—anything? Weird dreams? Things you heard while you were unconscious...?"

Serizawa shook his head. "Nothing. I don't even remember the bomb going off. The last thing I recall is getting out of the submarine and seeing Gojira. And then waking up in a hospital, burning."

"Huh." Mark let out a long sigh, mouth twisted in confusion. "Well—whatever happened down there—and whatever's making you recover from your burns so well—we're all glad for it.”

"Gojira," Serizawa said again firmly.

"He's probably right, Dad," Madison piped up. "I've been reading about the effects of titan radiation. It starts out like radiation burns, but something about it makes organic matter heal a lot faster instead of just... breaking it down."

"Really," Mark said skeptically.

"Really! It's the same thing that makes plants grow back so fast in the cities that titans have been through! The research has been out for like three years, Dad," Madison said, rolling her eyes.

"There's a great deal we don't understand yet, but—what Madison says is true," Serizawa said, trying not to smile too broadly. Madison had always been such a precocious child, always talking about whatever interested her. For the longest time it had been insects; recently it had been camping and survival techniques—something that only in retrospect Serizawa realized was so worrisome. He was glad to hear her talking about science again.

"But we're not here to talk about that," Madison said quickly, practically squirming in her chair with obvious eagerness to move on to the next topic. She gave her dad a pointed look.

"Right!" Mark took off a satchel he'd slung across his body and opened the flap. "We—'we' meaning Monarch, basically—wanted to give you a 'get well soon' gift. Rick mostly put it together, but we all contributed the pictures."

"Pictures?" Serizawa asked.

"Of your new friends," Mark said, suppressing a smile. He pulled out a tablet, scrolled through it a moment, and offered it to Serizawa. "From all over the world. I'll email it to you, but we wanted to show it to you in person."

Serizawa took the tablet. When he noticed Madison leaning over the bed to watch too, he held it out farther to allow her and Mark to watch. It was a slideshow, the first slide of which said in large letters, "GET WELL SOON!!" and in smaller text, "from Monarch and the titans."

He swiped to the next slide.

Godzilla stared back at him with eyes crossed and snout smooshed up to the window of Castle Bravo.

Serizawa laughed.

He swiped through the notes and images, pausing to read the well-wishing messages from Monarch agents and their allies—some close friends, some he'd only spoken to once or twice—and to examine the pictures and clips they'd put together for him.

A video of Rodan dramatically bobbing and headbanging in time to a Spanish song. An attached caption mentioned that after recording Rodan bobbing to over twenty different songs and sending them to a comparative psychologist in California, they could definitively say that Rodan was actually meeting the official definition for "dancing"—deliberately moving in sync with the beat of the music—and he was better at keeping the beat than parrots, one of the few other categories of non-human dancers.

Several pictures showed Kraken hanging out next to various Monarch ships, mimicking the ships' paint jobs. In some of the pictures, he even displayed unintelligible lines across his head that looked like attempts to copy the text and symbols printed on the ships' sides.

The Chen twins included a selfie of themselves and Mothra, as well as a message they said was translated directly from Mothra herself: a sincere wish for Serizawa to either get well soon or have a smooth reincarnation if he didn't, and a thank you from both her and Godzilla for saving Godzilla. Apparently Godzilla thought of Serizawa as "the flashy human." (Serizawa had to pause to wipe his eyes before continuing to the next slide.)

Pictures of Behemoth moving heavy objects around for humans with patient amusement. A photo of "Quetzalcoatl" half obscured by the sea with a brief message informing Serizawa that, in action, Quetzalcoatl appeared to more closely resembled myths about a creature called "Manda." Poems, with an apologetic note that they were better in Arabic, that one of the Monarch agents at Outpost 75-B had written about Mokele-Mbembe.

A short note from Admiral Stenz that wryly said, "Even the Navy is having to adjust to your new friends," followed by an image of Ghidorah reclined on an aircraft carrier like a vacationer on an inflatable pool lounge.

From the corner of his eye, Serizawa saw Madison flinch. He looked up at her; her face had gone blank, but there was a terrible fear in her eyes. Mark put a hand on her shoulder.

Serizawa turned off the tablet and set it down on the bed. "Perhaps I should look at these when I don't have visitors."

Madison's gaze dropped. "I'm gonna..." She slipped out of her father's hand and circled around Serizawa's bed. "Gonna get a soda. M'thirsty."

Mark reached out for her. "Maddie..." But she'd already disappeared down the hallway. He sighed, sank down into the seat she'd vacated, and ran his fingers through his hair.

Serizawa let the silence settle for a moment before he quietly said, "She's been through a great deal."

"Has anyone told you that she got up close and personal with the Three Stooges? They saw each other. They interacted."

Serizawa shook his head, sitting up a little straighter. He'd heard that she'd made herself quite the hero—sneaking away from Jonah's terrorist gang with the ORCA; single-handedly breaking whatever control Ghidorah had over the titans; luring Ghidorah, Godzilla, Mothra, and Rodan to Boston where they could settle their differences. It had been clear just how much danger she'd been in; but he'd never imagined that danger.

"She says she was as close to him as..." Mark looked out the window and pointed, "as that tree." The tree was near enough that Serizawa could see how the surfaces of individual leaves curved and rippled. "He looked directly at her—all three heads. He tried to kill her. Blasted..." Mark tried to pantomime with his hand in front of his mouth. "Blasted that lightning of his."

A chill ran down Serizawa's back. He'd known Madison since she was born. The thought of her ending like that, incinerated by an enraged titan...

"She's changed so much," Mark went on. "She's having trouble sleeping. She's sullen, she's so serious... Even the sound of the air conditioning coming on makes her jump. And I don't know how much of that is everything she went through, how much of it is whatever—whatever eco-fascist brainwashing Jonah put her and Emma through, how much of it's just her being a teenager..." Mark trailed off helplessly.

There was frustration in his voice and guilt in his eyes.

"I—maybe I'd know if I'd—been around. If I'd seen her often enough to know what she's like."

"You're around her now," Serizawa pointed out. "You cannot change your past actions, but you can support her now when she needs you."

Mark nodded reluctantly. "I just... wish I knew how."

That was where Serizawa's sage advice ran out. His child rearing experience capped out at entertaining agents' kids with titan stories and pocket watch jokes in fifteen-minute bursts of babysitting. "Have you... looked into therapy?"

"I'm her father. I should be able to help her through this myself," Mark insisted. He shifted his position uncomfortably. "And everyone's booked up."

Serizawa tisked.

"But Maddie's... she's strong." Mark sounded like he was repeating something someone else had told him, not something he quite believed himself. "She'll pull through this."

Serizawa could remember all the times over the past couple of years that Emma had boasted about what a strong young woman Maddie was developing into—a boast that, knowing what he knew now about what Emma had been training Madison for, was more chilling in hindsight. He wondered if Mark had been visiting Emma in jail to talk to her about Maddie.

Strong or not, though, facing down a titan attack and being responsible for saving the world was an astounding weight to put on anyone's shoulders, much less a twelve-year-old's. Pile enough weight on even the strongest structure, and eventually it buckles.

Mark muttered, "I can't believe he's still running around."

Serizawa didn't have to ask who. Mark's gaze was aimed at the tablet's black screen.

"If that thing was dead, maybe... I don't know, maybe Maddie wouldn't constantly feel like she has to watch her back. Like she's afraid he'll come back and finish the job."

Serizawa shifted to sit up higher. "I understand how your daughter's pain must pain you too," he said. "But that's no reason to condemn a living creature to death."

"It's not just that. He's dangerous, you know he is." Mark held up a hand before Serizawa could say anything else. "I know, I know—I should be making peace with the titans. I have with most of them. I don't think I'm at the point where I'd invite Godzilla to my birthday party, but he's on my Christmas card list."

From what Serizawa understood about American Christmas card customs, he was pretty sure that making someone's list was faint praise.

"But Ghidorah? He's not like the others. The others just... accidentally flatten human cities. To them it's like stepping on an anthill without looking. Ghidorah is that sick kid who holds a magnifying glass over an anthill. He's evil. Even you've felt it!"

Serizawa couldn't argue with that. He had seen Ghidorah up close in Antarctica—seen the way his eyes darted about, picking out humans across the ice so he could crush them. He'd seen the malice in Ghidorah's gaze. He'd seen the rage, too—a fury that had smoldered for eons, a fury that was older than the human race. He'd seen the light flashing off Ghidorah's eyes and teeth as he'd singled out Vivienne and devoured her.

But was what he saw in Ghidorah's eyes so different from the rage he'd seen in Mark's eyes when Mark had set foot in a Monarch facility for the first time in years, when Mark had snarled that all titans must be executed? Or the cold malice in Emma's eyes when she'd declared from the safety of a terrorist's bunker that human civilization had to be scoured from the Earth? If either of them had been Ghidorah's size, would Mark have been any kinder to Godzilla or would Emma have to Boston? Serizawa had his doubts.

There was no anger that wasn't somehow inspired by pain, by suffering, by fear. Even though Serizawa could still see Vivienne disappearing into Ghidorah's jaws over and over when he closed his eyes, there was some part of him that wondered what it was Ghidorah feared so deeply. And for that, Serizawa pitied him.

"You yourself called Ghidorah a false king," Mark went on. "You know he doesn't belong on this world."

"That is true," Serizawa said. "But he could belong. There is room enough on our world for him to find a place he fits."

"Wh—" Mark leaned away from Serizawa, blinking in disbelief. "How does a false king fit in on Earth?!"

"By learning to act like a citizen, instead of a conqueror."

"I—Wh—You don't think he's going to just do that, do you? Out of the goodness of his big, lightning-spewing heart? Before he floods the planet, or—or challenges Godzilla for leadership again?"

"What has he been doing since Boston?" Serizawa thought he already knew—although he wasn't currently working, he was receiving regular reports from several outposts, mainly from people who thought he'd enjoy hearing them—but he wanted to hear the answer in Mark's own words.

"Well, he—he's been skulking near Rodan's volcano, mostly. Throwing any trailers or tech we try to so much as get on the edge of the volcanic rock back into the village. He's been learning Rodan's language—did you know Rodan has a language—?"

Serizawa nodded. "I'm subscribed to Dr. Flores Rosales's YouTube channel."

That almost got a smile out of Mark. "Of course," he said. "Rodan's even been teaching him... more complicated calls. So the next time he tries to take over, he's going to be able to give the other titans direct orders. And he's been exploring the planet. Learning the landscape. Playing with our weather—he diverts entire hurricanes like they're nothing. He turns over tanks like they're toys. Experimenting with human technology—our technology. Studying how we work."

Serizawa nodded again, absorbing that analysis.

"Getting a better understanding of our planet," Mark concluded. "He's going to be better prepared the next time he attacks it. The longer we wait, the more prepared he gets."

Serizawa took a moment to process that, collect his words, and then reply carefully. "I can understand how his actions appear to you," he said. "And perhaps that is what Ghidorah is doing—studying us, toying with us. But when I look at those same things, here's what I see. Ghidorah has found a home—perhaps a temporary one, perhaps more permanent. He's established the borders of what he feels like is his territory, and when we respect his boundaries, he has respected ours. He's learning to communicate with his neighbors through words instead of through violence. He's shown us that his species sings—that he understands art. He's shown us he has a sense of humor. He's discovering that the earth is covered in unique, fascinating places, and that humans aren't playthings to torture and kill but inventors and engineers. He's made a friend—a friend whose lessons and advice he will sit and listen to, a friend whom he goes to great lengths to protect from discomfort, and a friend who he seems to care for."

Mark also took a long moment to think over Serizawa's words. He was growing a little bit, Serizawa thought. If they'd had this conversation before Boston, Mark would more than likely have steamrolled over Serizawa's interpretation and clung to his own—as he had with so many other opinions he'd had for so many years. Maybe discovering he was wrong about Godzilla had made him a more thoughtful person. Or maybe he was just working to be more respectful because Serizawa was in the hospital—time would tell.

Finally, Mark said, "A 'friend' who he fights with. All the time. Rodan clawed his wing up pretty good in Antarctica."

"And then kept him warm through the night, stayed near him for the next few days, and reactivated a volcano that's been dormant for four thousand years to give him a place to rest. I don't think it was a fight fueled by hatred," Serizawa said. "Have you been watching Rodan's language lessons as well?"

"A few. Not as many as I should," Mark admitted. "It's hard to look at—I mean—Ghidorah tried to kill me and my daughter."

Serizawa nodded understandingly. He had just about gotten used to the sight of Ghidorah curiously ask Rodan to clarify what the word "many" meant, and even at that Serizawa still sometimes instead flashed to a memory of Vivienne's last moments. "You should ask Xochitl if she has transcripts," Serizawa said. "Ghidorah and Rodan squabble over which fights 'count' and 'don't count' like two children trying to cheat at a board game. They see their battles as play."

"Huh," Mark said. "Like...?" He didn't finish the question.

Serizawa gestured encouragingly at Mark to continue. He had a feeling he knew where Mark had been heading.

"Well." Shrugging self-consciously, Mark said, "You know the joke theory that Outpost 56-B's been putting forward."

An amused smile broke out across Serizawa's face. "That Rodan and Ghidorah might be...?"

"Courting," Mark mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief. "That what we're seeing is courting behavior. Or—or dating, are they intelligent enough to date? I mean, Ghidorah's building radios..."

"I think there's some potential to the theory," Serizawa said, still grinning. "Outpost 56-B has collected some very compelling evidence. It's not conclusive, but it's certainly suggestive."

"Suggestive." Mark shook his head again and rubbed his eyes. "There's no way they're reproductively compatible."

"Not all couples are. Either in the animal kingdom, or in our own species."

"So, is that the bet you're wagering?" Mark asked. "You think we shouldn't try to kill Ghidorah while we still have a chance because if he decides to settle down and make a big fiery nest with Rodan, he won't destroy our planet?"

Serizawa sobered up. "No," he said. "I think we shouldn't try to kill Ghidorah because his behavior suggests he no longer wants to kill us. It suggests that he is trying to leave conquering behind and trying to behave like a fellow citizen of our planet—cooperative, respectful of the other species he shares the world with, communicative with his neighbors despite the massive language barriers. If that changes, through Mothra we can call Gojira for help. If it doesn't change... then if Ghidorah is seeking redemption, I think we should let him seek it. Whatever his motive may be."

Mark thought that over, lips pursed. Finally, he said, "I hope you're right. You've been right about a lot of other things, but..." He sighed.

It would take Mark some time to accept. That was understandable; Serizawa saw no need to rush him. Ghidorah had directly threatened Mark's family, after all. But Godzilla had ultimately helped cause far greater harm to the Russell family—harm that couldn't be healed with time—and Mark had made peace with him. If Ghidorah's recent behavior really was indicative of a change, Serizawa was sure Mark could eventually make peace with Ghidorah, too.

For now, though, Serizawa should probably lighten the mood. A bit of humor creeping back into his voice, Serizawa said, "But, if it does turn out that what we've been observing on Isla de Mara is courting..."

Mark gave Serizawa a wary look. "What?"

"Do you remember what you said when we were trying to figure out why Ghidorah was heading toward Isla de Mara?" Serizawa asked.

"Oh no." Mark buried his face in a hand, but not before Serizawa got a glimpse of him fighting back a smile. "Not you, too. Nobody's let me live it down."

"You said he wanted a food, a fight, or a..."

"I know! What about it?"

"Well, then." Serizawa sat back, shrugged permissively, and said, "Let them fuck."

Mark huffed.

The conversation drifted to how their respective extended families had weathered the attacks and the corresponding changes to their daily lives, to Mark's tentative plans to balance getting back into Monarch against keeping Madison away from any active outposts, and to Serizawa's goals for once he was back on duty. Serizawa planned to return to work as soon as he was allowed out of the hospital.

"And to visit all of them," he said firmly, "the moment the doctors allow me on an airplane. If I can't take a plane, I'll ride a boat."

 Mark chuckled. "All of them? Even the mean ones?"

"No such thing," Serizawa said confidently. "Maybe hurting, maybe distrustful of humans—or maybe so far removed from our cultures that they don't yet recognize humans as feeling people—but not mean."

"So you gonna go open up diplomacy with the titans on behalf of humanity?" Mark asked. "Go say 'hi' and have a little chat like you did with Godzilla?"

Serizawa smiled. "If they'll let me."

Madison finally came back in the room, smiling shakily but clearly calmer than when she'd left. She didn't have anything from the vending machine. Neither Serizawa nor Mark commented on it.

"Afraid this is leaving with me," Mark said, picking up his tablet from the bed. "But I'll email you the slideshow. They let you have your phone in here, right?"

"I have a new one." His old one had been with him during his meeting with Godzilla. It hadn't shared Serizawa's miraculous survival. Rick Stanton had helped him get all his old data out of "the cloud" onto his new phone, and once he had his photos back he liked his new phone better. It was bigger.

"We'll come back as soon as we can," Maddie said as she leaned in for a hug, then looked to her dad for confirmation.

"Of course," Mark said, nodding, "unless you manage to talk your way out of here before we find time to come by again."

Serizawa grinned. As much as he might want to, he probably needed to be able to walk out the door by himself before he could go. "If you don't come see me before I get out, I'll come see you." He had a whole list of people he needed to visit.

The last thing Mark said before he left was, "Get some rest. You've still got a lot of recovering to do."

On more than one level. "I will." Glancing between Mark and Maddie's tired faces, Serizawa said, "So do you."

###

(Do you guys know how long I've been waiting to write Serizawa saying "let them fuck"? Like half a year. Anyway so the “titan radiation heals injuries instead of making them worse” is, obviously, a lot of BS and Not How Radiation Works, but it’s consistent with KOTM’s “titan radiation heals nature and grows plants!!” and with Legendaryverse’s overall lack of people getting severe radiation burns from being so close to confirmed-radioactive kaiju all the time. If canon’s gonna act like kaiju have some made up form of Magical Healthy Radiation, okay, I’ll roll with that.)

(Replies/reblogs are welcome and greatly appreciated! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of KOTM and Rodorah fics, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)