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v-hope · 3 years

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Puzzle Pieces

Pairings: Artist!Kim Taehyung x Heiress!Reader, OC x Heiress!Reader

Genre: Roommates AU, Enemies to Lovers AU, Arranged Marriage AU (OC x Reader)

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: Two things you knew for sure. One, although you and Taehyung were roommates, you were still complete strangers to one another. And, two, he did not like you one bit. It was funny, however, how you didn’t need to tell him you would appreciate his company that particular night for him to see right through you. And it was even funnier how you didn’t need to ask him to stay for him to do so.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drinking.

A/N: Helloo, this is from part 7 of my Social Media AU “Belong”, but since it turned out to be so long I decided to post it in one shot format lol. I hope you guys enjoy!

Taking things back to your place —more like, Tae’s place— had truly seemed like a good idea earlier that day. After all, it was either that or have the paps follow you and Sungjin around for what was left of the day, which would later be followed by romantic headlines regarding the two of you that would not precisely be far from the truth, if you looked at it from the plans your families had for the both of you.

Of course, there was always the option of ending your hang out right then and going your separate ways, but after having homesickness hit you like a truck that week after hanging out with your brother a few days ago, and knowing well enough Taehyung would not even acknowledge your presence once you made it home, you found yourself relying on Sungjin more than you had wished to, that being the third time in the span of a week you were hanging out with him, as you really wanted to have someone with you. And if that someone just happened to be the heir your marriage was being arranged with against your will, then so be it.

However, now, when you were straddling his lap as he leaned back on the sofa, with your fingers entangled on his hair and his hands on your back as he pulled you closer against his chest, heavy breathings and lips needingly pressing together, you were not sure of how good of an idea this had been.

You had not expected him to kiss you that evening. And, most importantly, you had not expected to kiss him back once he did. But you were lonely, and craving affection. And so one thing had led to another, and now here you were, making out with the one guy you were not supposed to fall for. Or was he the one guy you were supposed to fall for?

It all depended on the point of view you looked at it from. If you wanted to prove to your parents you could manage to live on your own and that way call off the wedding, then going to the guy your marriage was being arranged with and whom you had no feelings for was most definitely not the way to go. On the other hand, if you wanted things to go back to normal and be able to go back home, wouldn’t falling for said guy be the perfect way out? That way, your marriage would still be an arranged one, sure, but it wouldn’t matter anymore because you would still get to marry the man you loved.

Nevertheless, although the second choice did sound very, very appealing, you found yourself removing your hands from his hair and pressing them on his chest instead as you pulled away from the kiss. For although you were craving intimacy and had discovered right then Sungjin was one hell of a kisser, you felt nothing. And it was unfair on both of you to keep this going and pretend like you did feel something.

“No, no” your voice came out muffled as his lips pressed once more on yours. “This is wrong”.

Sungjin knitted his eyebrows together, finally opening his eyes as he pulled slightly away from you. “We’re engaged, how could it be wrong?”

“We’re not—” you sighed heavily, carefully looking at your hand pressing on his chest, which was missing the engagement ring you had taken off before moving in here to start your new —and hopefully permanent— life. “We’re not engaged…”

“You taking the ring off doesn’t change anything, Y/N” he tried to say it as sweetly as possible, yet his words could do no other than make your chest feel heavy. “We are engaged and we will get married so far, unless you stay here once your time is up”.

Lowering your head, you removed your hands from off his chest as you got off his lap and sat next to him on the sofa, not being able to hide how much this whole topic affected you. “That’s not the way I see it” you murmured.

The way you saw it, you were not engaged anymore, and only would be if you decided to go back home once the year went by.

No one out of your social circle knew what was going on with you and your family. No one knew there was a chance you would be marrying Lee Sungjin in a good couple of months. However, he was right. The ring had been there before you fought hard enough for your parents to give you this chance to prove yourself and break free from this arrangement, but you had taken it off on your own terms. You had asked them not to tell the media about it, so you could truly try and carry a life as ordinary as you could. And honestly? You were terrified you would wake up one day and find first thing as you opened Twitter that the cat was out of the bag and everyone knew about your —arranged— engagement.

“You should tell that to your parents then,” he shrugged. “So they can put on hold the whole wedding planning”.

Your head snapped up at the sound of that. “They’re planning it already?”

Sungjin’s eyes opened wide. “You didn’t know?”

A scoff abandoned your mouth, shaking your head in disbelief as you felt tears well up in your eyes — ones that you would neither let roll down your cheeks nor let your so-called fiancé see. Of course your parents were planning as much as they could of it already. Should’ve seen it coming. It was like they already knew you would fail and this was nothing but a mere formality. And although a part of you was fuming and could not wait to prove them wrong now more than ever, another one could not help but wonder if maybe they were right.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” you spoke in what came out like more of a whisper, almost begging him to drop the topic. “I can’t do this right now. Please, leave”.

Sungjin shook his head. “You’re always avoiding the topic,” he pointed out. “We’ll have to properly talk about it and what you plan to do at some point”.

“Well, I don’t want to talk about it yet” you moved further away from him on the sofa. “This was a mistake. Please, leave”.

He sighed. “Y/N…”

“Sungjin, leave”.

“But—”

“Um…” Taehyung’s deep voice coming from the front door had both your heads snapping in his direction. “I don’t know who you are,” his eyes were fixed on Sungjin next to you. “But she shouldn’t have to repeat herself when asking for you to leave”.

You awkwardly gazed over to Sungjin, whose body had tensed up at both Taehyung’s presence and words.

“And you are?” he asked, his previous soft tone whilst talking to you having now turned into a lower, stronger one.

“Her roommate,” Taehyung replied, taking a step inside yet keeping the door open — and although you were used to always seeing his serious side, you had never seen him this serious before. “The owner of this place”.

Sungjin’s eyes were now fixed on you, a frown taking over his very displeased expression. “So you’ve been living with his guy this whole time?”

“She has” Taehyung answered before you could, catching your —on hold— fiancé’s attention once more. “And I’m sure she had just asked you to leave, so…”

Moving aside, he opened the door wider for the man next to you to see his way out. So, sending you one last glance, which was filled with both confusion and disbelief, Sungjin reluctantly stood up, not saying another word before making his way over to the door Taehyung was holding open for him — not taking a step out of it without before having glared at your roommate, who did not hesitate to do the same right back.

Now, why were they glaring at each other? Sungjin knew his reason very well, for, one, Taehyung was forcing him to leave against his will, and, two, he was living with you. That alone, as someone who had feelings for you, was reason enough not to like Kim Taehyung from the beginning. Taehyung, on the other hand? He had no idea. He had just met the guy and decided right away he did not like him one bit.

Once that one second they had been holding glares as they passed by was gone and Sungjin had finally made his way out of the apartment, Taehyung wasted no time in closing the door, in what was far from the gentlest of ways. And although he had gone home to get the instant popcorn bags he had told his friends he would bring over to movie night, he didn’t head to the kitchen right away, but stood there by the door staring at you instead.

“You okay?” he wondered at the sight of your visibly upset expression.

You nodded your head more eagerly than intended, not sure if trying to convince him or yourself. “Yes. Uh, thank you…”

He let you know it was nothing with a small nod. With that out of the way, he turned to his side so he could resume to do what he had come here to do.

“How much of it did you hear?” you couldn’t help but weakly ask before he could take another step.

He stayed quiet for a second. Was there something he wasn’t supposed to listen to? “Just the part when you asked him to leave”.

You nodded quietly, hating the fact that you had no certain way to confirm he was actually telling the truth, and having nothing left to do but hope he hadn’t heard a thing regarding your dreadful marriage.

“Sorry if I made things awkward with your boyfriend,” he apologized after seeing the conflicted look on your face. “I just saw you were upset and—”

“He’s not my boyfriend” you corrected him before he could even finish his sentence.

Taehyung smiled cynically. “The smudged lipstick on your face says otherwise”.

You bit down on your bottom lip, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you lowered your head — forcefully running your thumb over and around your lips to try and remove as much of your lipstick as you could.

“He’s really not, though” you repeated what was technically not a lie. “It’s just… complicated”.

“Same as what Jimin said” he shrugged.

With your eyebrows knitting together, your eyes followed his figure as he went inside the kitchen. He and Jimin had been talking about you?

As much as you wanted to know the details about that, you knew asking Taehyung wasn’t an option, for he was never willing to actually talk to you, let alone tell you about the conversations he had with his friends — even though you had been the main topic of it. So, deciding to just let it go, you stood up and went to grab the coat of yours you had hung by the door when you and Sungjin had arrived earlier that evening, putting it on and grabbing your purse as well right as Taehyung came back into the living room holding a bag in one of his hands.

“Where are you going?” he asked with furrowed eyebrows.

You couldn’t help but stare at him quite dumbfounded. He had never really minded you going out, and you wondered if you looked that vulnerable right then for him to actually be concerned about you doing so.

“I don’t really drink, but…” you shrugged, not needing to finish your sentence for him to take a hint.

“A bar?” his voice came out louder than expected.

Although taken aback at his reaction, you nodded. “I won’t make a mess if I come back drunk, you don’t have to worry”.

Taehyung snorted. As if that was what worried him about you going out drinking alone at night.

Not telling you that, of course, he shook his head instead as the corners of his lips curved up in amusement — your breath hitching when his hand firmly yet somehow still gently grabbed your wrist and dragged you back over the sofa you had been sitting down on before. Letting go of you, he left his bag on the small table in front of the couch and gestured for you to take a seat, having you do as told while your attentive eyes followed his every move, watching him once again disappear into the kitchen, only for him to reappear seconds later with a bottle of wine in one hand and a glass along with a corkscrew in another.

Leaving everything on the table in front of you, he took the bag he had left on it before and stood up straight, making you have to tilt your head slightly back so you could look up to him.

“If you’re drinking your feelings away, do it here” he stated, later rolling his eyes at the way you were silently staring at him, almost as if you had just seen a ghost. “Don’t look at me like that. Jimin would kill me if he found out I let you go out alone like that”.

You smiled weakly. “He wouldn’t have to know”.

“Have you forgotten who you are, princess?” he reminded you, causing you to roll your eyes at the annoying nickname he had chosen for you and you were apparently never getting rid of. “Get drunk in a bar and, next thing you know, a hundred headlines are written about you. Especially if you’re not used to drinking”.

“Right,” you sighed in defeat. “Thank you. Again”.

Taehyung nodded like it was no problem, later pointing at the bottle he had placed in front of you. “You know how to open it?”

“Yes”.

You did not. But you were not telling him that. You could not afford to not know how to do yet another mundane thing, for you were already useless enough in his eyes. You could always just look it up later and pray it would work out once you tried to do it, just like you had done with pretty much every other thing you had learned to do on your own after moving out.

“Okay” he mumbled, turning around and making his way to the front door so he could leave and get to his friends for once and for all.

“Taehyung?” you called him before he could reach for the doorknob, and before you could stop yourself.

“Yes?” he mindlessly turned his head in your direction.

You bit your tongue not to say what you wanted to, regretting already having called his name out without thinking before.

You wanted him to stay. You didn’t want to be alone. You hated being alone. And you were tired of this bad blood going on between the two of you. You wanted to talk. Actually talk. Not to spill your deepest secrets or become best friends, and most definitely not to tell him about your possible marriage and all about your family drama, but maybe just talk enough to get to know each other a little more. Nevertheless, it had only been a few days since you had asked him to keep you company and he had turned you down, making it very clear he had no intentions of spending his time with you. You couldn’t bother him again, let alone when you already knew what the answer would be.

“Have fun” you settled for saying instead, sending him a close-mouth smile that you truly believed was convincing enough.

And, you see, although you were smiling right then and couldn’t see how vulnerable you actually looked, being oblivious to it even, Taehyung could see right through you. And although he did not like you, not one bit, he was not heartless. So, letting out a sigh, he stopped trying to reach for the doorknob altogether and went back into the kitchen instead.

You just sat there puzzled as ever, believing he might have forgotten something else he needed to get before leaving, until you saw him come into the living room, no longer holding a bag in his hand, but another glass instead. And if that itself hadn’t been surprising enough, when he sat by your side and placed the glass next to yours, silently proceeding to open the bottle of wine —with such ease that couldn’t help but make you feel dumb over how it would’ve taken you a good couple of minutes to do what to him took less than one— so he could pour a good amount of it into them, you felt like you were hallucinating.

Your astonished eyes followed his hand as he held one of the glasses up for you to take, silently nodding as a way of saying ‘thank you’ once you held it in your hand. Not saying anything else, he grabbed his glass and took a sip of wine, having you follow his actions right after.

Words weren’t needed right then. And quite honestly, neither of you knew how to initiate the conversation anyway to begin with.

It was all untold. He didn’t need to give you a reason as to why he had decided to stay, and you didn’t need to thank him out loud for him to know you were thankful. You just knew.

“I’m sorry about the other day…” he was the first one to speak — partially to put an end to the uncomfortable silence filling the room, partially to actually apologize, for he had wanted to say that ever since he had spoken his mind about you when you texted him from another room the other day.

“Don’t” you shook your head. “I’m sorry I was pestering you. It was on me”.

Taehyung stared at you in astonishment, never having expected you to apologize right back when, in his eyes, he had been in the wrong. “You weren’t—”

“Taehyung,” you cut him off. “I get it” a weak smile formed on your mouth. “We’re not friends. You don’t like me. I know those things, yet I still went and tried to get you to spend time with me. I won’t ask again, I promise” your eyes fixed on his, not being able to know what the look in them meant at all. “And honestly, I know you’re only here right now because you feel guilty about it, so please, just... go do whatever you had planned to do tonight instead. I’ll be fine”.

He smirked, leaning against the sofa and taking another sip from his glass. “Well, good thing that, unlike that friend of yours, I do live here and can stay if I want”.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance at his smug ways, making yourself more comfortable as well on the sofa and bringing your cup up to your lips to take a small sip of alcohol. Of course telling him to leave would only increase his will to stay here with you. How could you not see that coming.

“I’m really sorry, though” he repeated, his previous smirk no longer there as his sincere words left his mouth. “Shouldn’t have brought your family up”.

You shrugged. “Like you said, I left home, and I have to own up to it. You’re not supposed to be there for me whenever I want. I know I’m spoiled and entitled, so don’t… feel bad for putting me in my place”.

He said nothing, trying to collect the conflicted thoughts of his that were running through his mind. How could you be so self-aware yet still not let go of that mask you had on when it came to showing parts of your life to everyone else? Why did you still pretend to be living your perfect life when you had just said you had to own up to the fact that you had left home? It made no sense to him. It was like there were missing puzzle pieces to you and no matter what angle he looked at it from, he could just not quite figure you out.

“Is there a reason why you left home, though?” he found himself asking before he could even process his words.

Maybe the answer to that was the only missing puzzle piece he needed to understand the whole picture. Maybe then he would see you like something other than a spoiled girl who had thrown a tantrum and ran away from home, yet was not willing to entirely let go of her privileged lifestyle and perfect public image.

A bittersweet smile curved up your lips, eyes intently staring at the dark liquid in your glass. “You really think I would’ve left my oh-so-perfect life without one?”

“Almost sounds as if it wasn’t that perfect”.

You shrugged, eyes travelling from his to anywhere else. In comparison to other families, to other lives as a whole, you knew you were privileged as hell. Perfect, however? It was way far from being so.

“Will you ever tell me said reason?” he wondered, not even trying to hide his interest anymore. “You know, so I can actually try and understand your situation?”

Locking your eyes with his chocolate ones for a second, you furrowed your eyebrows, genuinely considering to just drop all your problems on him so you could both get it off your chest and try to make him understand why you had done it. However, it was only that, a second — breaking the eye contact before you shook your head no, as if you had suddenly come back to your senses. “We’re not friends…”

He chuckled. “Is that your way of getting me to want to be your friend?”

You shook your head no again, a weak smile barely curving up your lips. “That is my way of telling you it’s personal”.

He nodded softly, understandingly. You were not friends, he knew that better than anyone, for it was him the one who had pushed you away ever since the beginning. It would be hypocritical of him to expect you to open up to him just like that. And although you wanted to trust him, although he was Jimin’s best friend and that alone made you feel like it would be alright to trust him, you did not.

You didn’t know if it was comical or tragic, how you had been living together and seeing each other daily for a month now, yet were complete strangers to each other.

“You don’t have to become my friend to know, though. So don’t worry about that” you tried to lighten up the mood. “Everyone will know in a little less than a year. Just be patient”.

“That big of a deal?” he raised one of his eyebrows.

You nodded quietly, for although you wished it wasn’t, it was indeed that big of a deal. If you failed, everyone would know you were getting married to Lee Sungjin. If you managed to prove you could fend for yourself, on the other hand, everyone would know your family was disowning you. Either way, no matter what happened, the media would make a big deal out of it. And honestly, you didn’t know which scenario was worse.

“Can we talk about something else that isn’t family related?” you pleaded.

“Fine by me” he sighed, raising his glass before he brought it up to his lips. “Any ideas?”

You shrugged, looking around in search for something that would make you come up with a new topic, anything that would take the attention away from your life yet keep him interested, until your eyes fixed on a few used brushes of his that remained inside a cup on one of the shelves at the other end of the living room.

“Your art?” you proposed, eyes going back to his already attentive ones and bringing your glass up to your mouth.

The simple mention of his work brought a smile to his face. “What about it?”

“Are you preparing for an exhibition or something like that?” you wondered. “You know, since ever since I got here you’ve spent most of your time locked up inside your studio…”

Taehyung nodded. “Yeah, I’m having an exhibition that’s kind of a big deal in a few weeks, and it’s driving me crazy”.

“Oh, really?” you tilted your head, genuine interest clear in your voice. “That’s great, though. What is it going to be about?”

“You sure you’ve got time for that?” he playfully squinted his eyes at you, that being the first time he had dropped his serious act in front of you. Good thing was, he could always blame it on the alcohol. “I could talk about art for days”.

You chuckled, taking another sip of wine and then shaking your head in amusement as a melancholic smile curved up the corners of your lips. So could you when you were younger, although you had really no one to talk to about it back then. It was nice, though, seeing someone be just as —if not more— eager about it as you used to be, and the fact that he could actually be able to express his excitement and love for it only made it better.

“Well, we’re not going anywhere tonight, so…”

Taehyung shook his head in amusement at your statement. You got a point, though — your respective bedrooms being as far as you would go that night, and considering getting there wouldn’t take you any more than ten seconds, it was fair to say you had the whole night ahead of you, or at least until you ran out of wine.

“You like popcorn?” he asked out of the blue, earning a giggle from you that for some reason had him biting down on his bottom lip not to smile as well.

“Weren’t you just about to start talking nonstop about your art?”

He rolled his eyes at the call-out. “Yes, but I’m hungry and have got lots of popcorn in the kitchen,” his eyes glanced over there for a second before they were back on you. “Plus, I need to text the guys to let them know I won’t be coming over anymore, so…”

You smiled, tilting your head over to the kitchen. “Off you go then, I’ll just wait here”.

“Is that a yes to the popcorn, though? Or...”

Another light laugh escaped your mouth at how uncertain he had sounded. “Totally a yes to the popcorn” you agreed, watching his tall figure as he stood up. “Never had it with wine before, though”.

“What?!” his eyebrows furrowed in utter disbelief. “That is like, my go-to friday night combo”.

“Nutritive” you teased him.

“Says the salad girl” he bit back, causing you to raise your free hand as a sign of truce, which had him once again rolling his eyes at you. “So what is it for the upper class? Good wine and fine cheese?”

“I mean...” you shrugged, sipping on your glass.

“You think you’ll be alright trying out such a lower class snack?” he teased, earning an amused smile from you as you shook your head and looked away, biting on your bottom lip to try and erase it.

“I’m sure I will make it” you let him know rather dramatically.

Letting out a low chuckle, he decided to say nothing more in return. Instead, he dug his hand in his pocket and took his phone out, starting to type on it —to let his friends know he was staying here, you guessed— as he a made his way over to the kitchen for what felt like the tenth time that night.

Taking your phone out of your purse as well, you leaned against the sofa as you scrolled through your social media while you waited for your roommate to come back, feeling a little bit more at ease now that you had managed to take your mind off things and the tension between you two had seemed to be gone.

Yes, you were not friends, and maybe you never would be. Maybe roommates was all there would ever be between the two of you, yet as long as you were able to hold a proper conversation every now and then, you knew you would be able to make it through this year in the end.

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princessofprocrastination · 3 years

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I Messed Up Didn’t I? (Dream)

MASTERLIST

pairing : dreamwastaken x singer!reader (angst)

summary : after the breakup, he sees that you’re growing as a singer, while he’s suffering alone, but you don’t think that about him, seeing he’s growing on youtube.

a/n : you’re replacing gwen in the voice!

hey! this isn’t going to be the only part! stay tuned for more!

it ended after an argument. he was constantly on his computer, and would forget every important day. from your birthday, to your anniversaries, he forgot them all.

he even would disregard it, saying it wasn’t important anyway, that everyday could be a special day. that hurt you a lot. you two have been together for a long time and you didn’t want to lose it. you couldn’t afford to lose him, not like this.

sometimes it felt like he didn’t love you anymore, that he didn’t feel the same anymore. it hurt to see him on his phone, or on discord call with his friends.

you thought his friends were amazing and supportive, but his friends took away your limited time together, and hurt like a bitch.

at first, you were okay with his constant video games, knowing that’s his job now, and that he’s been supportive of you, and you should be supportive of him too.

at first, it had been tough, you brought in the money, paid for the bills, bought groceries since you were making money through music. you weren’t stingy, you are totally fine with spending money for him, but it felt wrong at the same time.

your mum always told you never settle for a guy, that he would do things for you if he wanted to. and that stuck to you, but you love dream, with everything in you. you couldn’t afford to leave him, to break this long time relationship.

you two had been there for each other since the roots. and to see it crumble like this hurt a lot.

he didn’t notice. he didn’t care enough to ask you how your day went anymore. he was too busy on his computer.

you made the effort. you asked him the usual questions, to which he’s reply with a ‘’m fine’ or simply not answer. you brought him food whenever you notice he’s been skipping meals to sit on his desk.

you got him a new monitor, gaming chair, a new desk. everything he could’ve ever wanted. if it made him happy, you’d buy it, even if it took time away from you together.

he didn’t notice how you’re slipping away, barely talking to him, barely even sleeping on the same bed anymore. he didn’t notice the constant emails on your phone. or maybe he did, and he didn’t care.

he didn’t notice that you two were basically living separate lives in the same house. he didn’t notice that you were thinking about leaving.

it never occurred to dream that you’d snap one day, that you’d leave him. it never occurred to him that you’d buy your own house one day and leave him, alone in his house.

it started small, you invited him to go to a dinner you had with your producers. he said he would left out, so you let him be, understanding it completely.

then you’d ask multiple times for him to just get out of that chair and eat dinner with you, even if it’s just once. you told him you missed him, yet he still pushed you away.

you didn’t understand where the relationship went wrong. you tried your best to work it out, talk it through, but it seemed like he didn’t even want it anymore, judging by the way he’s acting.

he says it’s just a part of the relationship, getting comfortable. but you didn’t think getting comfortable meant that you both didn’t talk to each other all day. you didn’t want this type of comfortable.

“just this once, let’s go get dinner. we can go eat at your favourite place.” you begged him.

“no, i want to finish editing, can’t you go yourself, maybe bring me takeout?” he replies to you.

“i could but i just want to spend time with you.” you begged again, almost whining.

“just go, we spend so much time together anyway.” dream tells you, almost out of anger.

“we haven-” you tried to say before getting cut off.

“OMG JUST LEAVE, I’M STRESSED OUT RIGHT NOW, LEAVE” he screams at you.

“i just-” you tried again, almost crying at that point.

“LEAVE.” he scolded again.

you left the room quietly, not wanting a screaming fest to start again.

you sat on your shared bed. thinking about what went wrong. how did your relationship become this bad.

you packed a bag. you didn’t care about your clothes, you could always buy new ones. you didn’t bother packing much, just the necessities.

you walked out the door, grabbing your car keys on your way out.

as you started you car, you sat there for a while. this was it huh?

you told yourself that you made the right decision getting a house before this argument came.

you didn’t mean to hide it away from him, in fact, you wanted to bring it up during dinner, but since the dinner invitation didn’t work, you didn’t bother.

the longer you drove, the more sad you became. tears trickled down your cheeks as you drove silently to a hotel before needing to sit a long drive from florida to california.

you sat on the hotel bed, thinking about dream. you hated ending it this way. you didn’t even think this would end. you were planning to get married, for god’s sake.

you cried even more thinking about it.

you felt alone. but you knew you still had friends who supported you. but it felt like there was a void left unfilled after you left that house.

maybe it’s for the best.

DREAM’S POV

i heard the door close. i heard it all. i heard her packing her stuff. but i don’t know why i didn’t stop her. i was too busy streaming.

it didn’t hit me until a couple days later. and when the days came, it was too late.

i knew i messed up.

when i told george and sapnap, they were furious. they said they warned me before. they asked why i’m not looking for her.

i told them it’s cause i knew you were no where near me.

i knew i messed up.

terribly.

YOUR POV

months went by so quick.

the hold in your chest unhealed. but you knew you needed to get over it.

you saw twitter, instagram, youtube. you saw that he had been blowing up.

over 13 million subscribers. you were impressed. you were immensely proud of him. you wish you were there to celebrate it with him. but you weren’t.

fortunately for you, months after you moved to california, you were offered to be a judge on the voice.

you didn’t waste a second telling your team to say yes. you grew up watching the voice. and plus, you got to meet the john legend, kelly clarkson and blake sheldon. who would miss that opportunity.

you spent a while trying to settle down in your new house. it was huge. huge for one person. but you needed it, the time alone.

you liked it peaceful and quiet, it helped you heal slowly. it helped you to move on.

you came out with a full album since then, which ended up being a hit. you were super grateful for the love you’ve been getting.

now, you sat in one of the judges chairs for blind auditions.

your hairstylist was making sure your hair was fully sprayed and looked good. you made small conversation with her, thanking her for making you look good for the camera.

there was a camera for each judge. you looked into the one right in front of you and said. “holy shit i can’t believe i’m here.”

john, who sat next to you laughed at your antics. you glanced at him and gave him a grin.

“we’re ready.” the producer said to the judges, signaling that they were starting.

audition after audition, you met amazing artists.

“you’re amazing and i used my block on john for you. if you didn’t know, he’s a little scary when he’s competitive. i would love for you to be on my team.” you said to an amazing singer you turned your chair for.

she sung an r&b song, to which got a four chair turn, but you were desperate. you needed her.

“um, oh my god, this is hard.” she said to us, before choosing her mentor.

kelly and blake chimed in, making her turn her head to look at them.

“no. please, don’t listen or look at them, just me.” you said to her, practically begging.

john laughed at this and said. “holy shit, you’re that desperate?”

“yes, john, i love her.” you laughed along with the other two judges.

“well-” the artist started. you crossed your fingers, hoping that she would pick you. you had a good chance as john was blocked. but kelly was good competition too, not counting out blake.

“i pick.” she paused.

“oh my god, spit it out already.” i screamed and laughed a little.

“i pick y/n” she announced.

“HOLY SHIT YES.” you stood from your chair and jumped a little, excited.

“you losers.” you told the other three judges.

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” kelly played along.

blind auditions went along really smoothly.

you’ve seen your face plastered all over the voice’s instagram and twitter. they even posted a clip of you being excited after getting picked as a mentor for the r&b artist.

you were having a blast. your family from back home would facetime you and congratulate you or laugh at the stupid things you did on tv.

what you didn’t know was that dream had seen them all. after all, he hadn’t paid attention to you before, why start now? your little jumps on your judge seat as you waited for the next audition. your little shouts to amazing singers auditioning.

he was proud, to say the least.

in this couple of months, he’d seen you grow into a young and successful woman. he was sad that he couldn’t be there to congratulate you through all your achievements.

but that’s what he gets for abandoning his one and only love.

at first, he didn’t even look into what you were doing. not until a few weeks after you left, george and sapnap had said something along the lines of your name and you being a judge on the voice.

them two had been purposely teasing him. they knew that he treated you like absolute shit before you left and they made it a thing to make sure clay knew that.

you weren’t in contact with dream for obvious reasons but you facetimed george and sapnap constantly, even before and after your shows.

they had been through it all with you. since you were only a couple years older than nick, you two clicked well together, always talking about tiktok trends and the new lingo. but you don’t count off george for being one of your bestfriends.

you actually had shown the camera once or twice when you facetimed george and sapnap. well, now the world knew that you three knew each other. they just didn’t know how you three met.

twitter blew up with lots of hashatgs about you three, talking about ‘when worlds’ collide’.

you thought that was funny. they even asked you to link up and be friends with dream, who you knew was dream, but you’ve always ignored those types of comments.

you saw the ship comments between you and george. you two would laugh it off and constantly say that you two are just friends. he’s your exes bestfriend, that would be awkward.

dream saw it all, the facetime calls are all over the internet. your supporters were shocked to see that you knew each other. they didn’t know that dream and you knew each other though.

he saw that you’ve been ignoring the comments to link up with him. his heart broke at that. but he deserved it. he ignored you for the longest time. now it’s your turn.

his heart broke at the shipping comments between you and george after knowing how often the facetime.

dream knew he deserved it. he deserved all the pain coming to him.

he felt grateful of his new, large following on the internet, but it felt like nothing compared to having you in his arms. why had he taken you for granted?

he was determined to see you again, to ask you to come back. he needed you.

PART TWO!

#dreamwastaken #dream x reader #dream imagines #dream imagine #dream fanfic #sapnap #georgenotfound

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kurodachimagic · 3 years

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Chocolate and Cherries - Chapter 1

Summary: When Adachi falls into the arms of a kind stranger his life changes for the better.

Rating: Pg 13

Tags/warnings: Fluff, getting together, au, Writer Adachi, Chef Kurosawa.

Word count: 6.2k

A/n: This story was written for the cherry magic mini bang! Thank you @hiwatari-art for inviting me to join! Had a lovely time working with you as always. Thank you to my other artist over on twitter guacagabs. The entire story is being posted right now. Thank you to @schnaf for being a great friend and beta!

Read on ao3

Adachi dragged his feet on the pavement as he made his way home from work. He was already too exhausted to start his writing day with the best mindset but it would have to do. He’d already skipped four days this week and if he didn’t actually sit down to work on his book, it would never be published. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head slightly.

The situation was not ideal by any means, he was not great at cooking and it was already too late to start dinner, but he definitely needed to eat something or his mind would absolutely quit on him, he knew that much.

Adachi knew he should probably get something healthier but he refused to waste even more time walking to the store, so he decided to stop by the food cart near his flat for his usual emergency menu: two tuna onigiris with mayo - along with a can of soda in the hopes that the caffeine would boost his creativity. He was not too happy about it, but he didn’t have much time to contemplate his choice because as soon as he had paid, the first few droplets of water hit his shoulders. Looking up, he felt the next few drops hit his nose and his forehead. He cursed inwardly and simply took off awkwardly running the last few blocks home, trying his best not to slip and fall, his dress shoes nothing but a hazard in this particular situation.

The building door was so close, he could see it through the pouring rain; just a few meters and he would be home. Adachi rushed, his hand extended already to grab at the door handle when his body collided with something - someone - and fell backwards. It was as if time had slowed down; he could see the face of the person he ran into frozen in shock, his eyes widening as he saw Adachi falling, while Adachi could only think about the pain this would cause him, physical, yes, but mostly emotional. He always managed to get himself in embarrassing situations and now -

His neighbour extended his hand just in time to catch Adachi’s and pulled him upright effortlessly, his expression switching from shock to a relieved smile. “Are you ok? I’m so sorry, I hadn’t seen you.”

“Thank you! I’m so sorry,” Adachi said, feeling the heat rise to his face, partly because of his clumsiness and partly because his neighbour had not let go of him yet. In fact, Adachi could have sworn that the guy was rubbing his thumb on the back of his hand. He didn’t know what to do, so he tried again. “Uh, sorry. I should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s ok, I’m glad that you didn’t get hurt.” The man seemed to suddenly remember they were standing in the pouring rain and pulled Adachi to the door. “Come, you’ll catch a cold in this weather.”

No matter how hard he thought, Adachi couldn't remember ever catching his name but he had seen this man before in the elevator and in some of the common areas. He seemed to be a bit of a recluse, much like himself.

The man opened the door and finally let go of his hand before ushering him in. “After you, Adachi.”

Adachi’s eyes widened; he didn't know how the man knew his name, but he didn’t mention it. He walked inside and called the elevator, followed closely by his saviour. Once the doors opened, he stepped in and turned around, pressing the button for the fifth floor and finally facing the man. "Thank you, again…" he trailed off.

"Kurosawa. My name is Kurosawa." He pressed the fourth-floor button.

Adachi smiled and bowed to him. "It was nice seeing you, Kurosawa. Have a good night."

The elevator dinged and Kurosawa bowed with a smile before exiting. “Good night, Adachi,” he waved.

Adachi hesitantly waved back as the elevator doors closed. Before he knew it he was one floor up, opening the door to his flat, throwing his work bag on the sofa and taking his wet clothes off with a groan before going to the bathroom.

What a day. Not only had he stayed late to finish on that project Urabe had handed to him but he also made himself look like a fool in front of his very cool neighbour, and to add insult to injury now he needed a hot shower to hopefully avoid catching a cold. He shook his head and hopped under the stream, washing himself thoroughly and letting the hot stream relax his muscles.

Feeling in a bit of a better mood, Adachi got out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel and went about getting into a comfy set of pyjamas. He finally sat at his desk and opened the white doc of doom, checking the time and cursing as he realized it was 9 pm already. He slouched in his chair, throwing his head back with a groan. This book was going to take a million years at this rate, he really needed to prioritize his schedule, put on some good hours into it each day, especially during the weekend, he needed to -

Adachi’s stomach growled loudly, reminding him that his emergency dinner laid abandoned in its bag. He got up and stomped over to the sofa, unwrapping the onigiris and eating them without so much as a thought before returning to his spot. He promptly sat down to continue with the daily task of staring at the document while he begged his brain to type something - anything - out. But his mind had other plans though, Kurosawa’s face and gentle smile kept popping in his mind. Maybe it was because of the way he moved, how he had kept him from falling with his sharp reflexes, or maybe it was how elegant he looked even when he was soaking wet, how well his suit fitted him. Kurosawa was like some sort of superhero, or… no, he was more like a Prince Charming from an epic battle world. That was a start - it was not the murder mystery he had thought about, but it was definitely a start.

The sound of Adachi’s footsteps worked like a metronome, helping his mind settle into a rhythm. He was starting to see things in more detail: The brave prince paced in his castle, his sword close by his side, the problems his kingdom was facing were almost too much to bear and with his father on the brink of death, it was all on him. A shadow appeared above the citadel - the… the… ‘kingdom x’ was being attacked by a three-headed dragon. How would he fix this and save his people? Had someone sent the dragon or did it act with free will? Did the soon-to-be king have secret magic powers? Maybe they were a secret even to himself!

With renewed energy and excitement, Adachi sat down to work. This new world just wanted to be written, to become a reality, and he was not going to stop it. Aided by the occasional sip of soda and a few “stretching breaks” that were more like actual pacing, he managed to draft four thousand words by 5 am, effectively breaking his 3 thousand word record from just a few months ago. If he could keep up the pace he could finish the book within the next month and send it to Tsuge for editing and review. He sent a quick text to his friend to tell him the good news and got into bed; he would probably regret staying up so late tomorrow, but now he didn’t have it in him to care. Writing was definitely his call - even if he was very close to missing his goal of being a published author by 30.

---

The commute to work was nothing short of hell. The morning started with Adachi missing his usual train and having to take the next one during rush hour - not that he ever managed to avoid rush hour, but he usually took the first train during it so it wasn’t as crazy as later in the morning. This resulted in him having a very unpleasant ride, squeezed half to death between the sea of people, feeling like a canned sardine with a bad case of insomnia. That was the other issue, the previous writing night ended up being a success but even though he’d been exhausted by the time he was done, it had been impossible to fall asleep. Now he was on his way to a long workday with a pounding headache and a sour mood. If given the opportunity, Adachi would’ve chosen to take the day off to sleep and feel refreshed enough by sundown to continue writing.

His job was definitely a necessary evil, but sometimes he couldn’t help but resent it. On the verge of thirty, Adachi spent most of his day at the office, writing his reports, Urabe’s reports, and occasionally picking up the slack of some of his colleagues. There was barely any time for hobbies or relaxing and least of all to be an aspiring writer. To be completely honest, Adachi had started viewing his day job as his second career in the past year. His heart and soul were focused on his new goal, what he really wanted. In the end, if writing didn’t become his main income, it wouldn’t matter, he was passionate enough about it to continue no matter what. After all, living in the fantasy worlds he created was more than enough for him.

Adachi made it to his desk just on time, but running those last few blocks only served to make his mood even sourer. He pulled at the collar of his shirt with a small huff, still thinking about his writing and leaned back in his chair until it touched Urabe’s shoulder, startling him.

He turned around swiftly, blush already rising to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Senpai.”

Urabe nodded and waved him off. Then, he cocked his head and looked at Adachi in more detail. “What is going on with you, Adachi? You look tired.”

“I just had trouble sleeping last night, that’s all,” Adachi said with a heavy sigh. He could picture so many things he would rather do than give explanations about his personal life, but he would feel too guilty if he was rude to Urabe when he was only worried about him.

“Hmm, are you sure that’s all?”

“Yes. I’m ok.” He attempted his best smile. “Thank you for asking.”

“Adachi,” Urabe pouted, his brows burrowed into a childish frown, just like every time he would ask Adachi to take on more work, any semblance of concern already gone out the window. “Can you finish this report for tomorrow? The boss is really piling stuff on my shoulders and I already had other plans for today.”

Sometimes Adachi wished he was a bad person, or a bad colleague even, but he couldn’t help taking on the extra work when it was needed, after all, he didn’t have much of a life. He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Oh, wait. Is your birthday today or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And you’re turning 30, right?”

Adachi nodded once again, hoping to end the conversation as soon as possible; he didn’t want to be reminded of the passage of time or how much he hadn’t achieved by now.

Urabe rolled his chair closer and elbowed him. “Aaah, you sly weasel. Do you have a date?”

“Of course not. I’m just looking forward to getting home and sleeping.” That was literally his birthday plan.

Urabe frowned and gave him a quizzical look. “But you have... ‘dated’ before, right?” He winked.

Adachi shook his head slightly and saw the same look many people gave him, a mix of pity and judgement.

“You should ask one of the girls out. I’ve heard Yui is single and she’s very pretty!”

Adachi slowly turned his chair towards the copy machine and saw Yui across the room. She was, in fact, very pretty, but… she didn’t spark anything in him. She looked like a work of art, pleasant to look at, but not for him. “No, I don’t think that would work.”

“Adachi, if you don’t date someone by the time you turn 30, you will turn into a wizard!” He whispered.

“What? That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s true, you’ll see!”

Adachi rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk, finally starting on the reports needed. The sooner he was done with that, the sooner he could return to his writing.

The elevator opened its doors for Adachi and the ding that followed made his muscles relax instantly. Only a few more minutes and he would be up in his flat, taking his shoes off and cooking something quick before sitting down to write. He felt inspired by the beginning of this new story and he wasn’t about to let a bad day at work ruin that for him.

Just as the doors started to close, someone put a bag between them to keep them open. The first thing Adachi saw was a girl with a cute and gentle look, a black wispy fringe framing her face and a sweet smile. She nodded at Adachi and he smiled and nodded back. He wondered if he would ever date a girl like her, if sharing his life with a partner and doing things together would be so different than what he did now. The answer was probably not, since he assumed nobody would be supportive of him working all day and writing all night; if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really have time for a relationship, even if he sometimes yearned for a bit of company - theoretically. Adachi blinked repeatedly, suddenly crashing back into reality when he saw the looming presence of Kurosawa behind her, giving him a weird look he couldn’t quite place as he ushered the girl into the elevator.

Out of sheer awkwardness, Adachi nodded and mumbled a quiet hello at him, looking away as a blush crept onto his cheeks. Was that Kurosawa’s girlfriend? He groaned and let his head fall back against the elevator wall. He’d been caught staring at his neighbour’s girlfriend like a creep. He ventured a sideways glance and realized Kurosawa was still looking at him with a weird expression.

Thankfully, the ride was short and only a minute later, Adachi was home, barely paying any attention to his basic needs as per usual. He made some instant ramen and added a bit of egg to it before eating it mindlessly, daydreaming of his new story and the magic system involved.

Perhaps it was quickly becoming a much more ambitious project than he had anticipated but as long as the writing flowed, everything would be ok. What was supposed to be a long writing session soon turned into an early night after Adachi’s brain decided to shut down mid-sentence, putting him to sleep sitting at his desk, his head hanging down and his spine hunched over.

#cherry magic #cherry magic fic #mine

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years

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For the Flame Always So Loved the Stars - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Kara Kent, Clark Kent, Lois Lane Pairing: jondami Summary: Nothing stays the same forever. But fairytales always end the same way. A/N: This is just a whole fucking lot of self-indulgent garbage. Takes place over 5 years, Damian is 18-23, and Jon is 15-20. The last section is just their superhero way of saying ‘I love you and always will.’ but like. Subtly. I wrote this for myself, but I’m pleased with how it came out, so I hope you like it too. Sorry not sorry for literally the first line of this fic haha. The legend was googled so I took the most similar parts in all the wikis I read. I ignored the part where they all said ‘their story always ends in tragedy and betrayal’ but I’m going for happy endings dammit.

Dick Grayson died when Damian was eighteen.

He wasn’t there. No one from the family was. It was a simple carjacking gone wrong. A single bullet, straight to the chest, from a scared kid who thought completing the initiation to the local gang was his only option to survive in this life.

It was almost funny. A single bullet. No poison, no torture. No evil mastermind, or world-ending apocalypse. No battles against armies, or lives and loves at stake. Not anything they dealt with daily.

Just an old car with a purse left on the passenger seat that someone saw. Just a weak spot in aged armour that was going to be replaced in the next year or so.

Just a single bullet.

Damian doesn’t remember much from after he was told, after he came home from class and found his siblings and Stephanie waiting for him in the parlor. He remembered knowing it must have been bad; Tim’s face was blotchy, his eyes red-rimmed and he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

Stephanie was the one who told him. Cassandra held his hand. But that was about it. That was all his mind supplied.

That, and the fact that his first thought after being told was: ‘But that’s not fair.’

Not fair because Dick was the best of them, in every way. Because he was funny, smart, kind, and every single thing a hero should be. A good person.

Not fair because Damian only got eight years with him, his closest confidante, one of his only friends. Because Damian decided at age ten that a world without Dick Grayson was not one he wanted to live in, and yet here he was, in the worst reality he could think of.

He doesn’t remember much from after he was told. He remembers Stephanie saying: “Dick died, Damian.” He remembers thinking: ‘But that’s not fair.’

Then...he remembers a pain in his knees. Remembers blinking and finding himself staring at the floor, which was much closer than it should have been. He remembers his sister kneeling in front of him, allowing him to press his forehead into her shoulder. Remembers Jason next to him, rubbing his back, asking if they should get him water, or take him upstairs.

He remembers hearing Tim sob, and that might be the most memorable thing of the moment, because his body registered that that’s what he wanted to do too, he wanted to cry.

But he couldn’t, because you don’t cry over things that weren’t real. And that’s obviously why he collapsed, why he couldn’t form words to come out of his mouth, why his mind was refusing to remember this moment.

Because it wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

Jon was antsy. Nervous.

Alfred had called days ago to inform him and his parents what had happened. And Jon had already been halfway out the door when the butler interjected to request that none of them visit, not right now. The Waynes and their closest companions were grieving, and needed to be alone.

And he hated that – he hated being away from Damian on a good day, but now, when Damian was going to need him? It was pure agony.

So two weeks later, when Clark gave him the okay, he took off to Gotham faster than he ever had before, and bypassed every bit of security measures that Bruce asked him to complete upon arriving.

He found Damian in the cemetery, and he had a feeling it was a place Damian didn’t often leave anymore.

Jon said nothing as he approached. Just plopped next to Damian and silently wrapped his arms around the other’s neck. Damian didn’t say anything either, but he leaned gratefully into the embrace, reaching up to cling to Jon’s forearm.

“I’m so sorry.” Jon whispered, leaning back. He didn’t leave Damian’s personal space, though. Kept their shoulders touching, knees keeping each other warm. “I…I don’t know what else to say. To think.”

“Me neither.” Damian murmured. His voice sounded dry, and Jon wondered when he last drank anything, or ate. “But…I’m glad you’re here.”

Jon let himself smile a little bit, and reached out to hold Damian’s hand. Damian didn’t refute the gesture, and even squeezed Jon’s fingers between his. “I wish I’d had been allowed to come sooner.”

Damian shrugged. “It was better you didn’t see any of us as we…were.”

“Were, huh?” Jon asked dubiously. He glanced forward towards Dick’s grave. Flowers and statues covered it as a makeshift memorial, and the flowers were starting to wilt. “…How are you doing with all this?”

Damian absently shook his head. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

Jon waited, sensing there was more. Had a feeling that in their grief-induced isolation, not many feelings were shared amongst the Wayne family. That they probably all suffered in silence, despite being together.

“I…I didn’t get enough time with him.” Damian continued, just like Jon knew he would. Because Damian didn’t trust easily, but when he did, he trusted you with everything. And Jon knew he was one of the few Damian trusted. Maybe the only one, now. “Eight years. That’s it.”

He squeezed Jon’s hand again.

“If I’d had known that’s all we would have gotten, I…I wouldn’t have wasted it. There was so much I wanted to do with him. Learn from him.” Damian sniffed, and Jon looked up at his eyes. But he didn’t see a hint of tears. In fact, he saw nothing. Damian’s eyes were empty. “But now I’ll never get the chance. I’ll never get to ask how he escaped Father and Gotham. How he survived on his own, and found himself, or how can I do that too. How I can leave Robin, and start over somewhere else like he did. How he rebuilt his life, how he became and remained kind. Did he think it was possible I can remain kind too? Did he…did he believe in me? Or what about how…”

Damian trailed off, and Jon was almost glad he did. Because in his ramblings, Jon heard something, and he wasn’t so sure Damian meant to let it slip.

“You want to leave Robin?” Jon asked softly. Damian’s mouth clamped shut. “Since when?”

Damian stared at the stone in front of him for a moment, before sighing and looking at the ground.

“A few months.” Damian admitted. “I…just don’t fit in it anymore, I don’t think. Or it doesn’t fit me. And I can’t stay in Batman’s shadow forever, no matter who is wearing the mantle. Besides, Grayson left it when he was around my age. As did Drake, even if it wasn’t by his choice. I might as well follow the tradition as well.”

“…Does your dad know?”

“…No. No one does.” Damian frowned. “I was going to speak with Grayson about it next time I saw him, but now…now you’re the only one who knows by default, I suppose.”

“Well, thanks for telling me.” Jon smiled. He waited a moment, then looked up at the sky. “So…what do you want to do after you leave Robin? Find a new name? Quit and go on the straight and narrow?”

“I don’t know. That’s…what I was going to speak to Grayson about.” Damian admitted softly. “I want to still help, of course. But…is behind a mask the best way? Is Gotham where I’m best utilized?” He sighed, and curled his knees to his chest. Though he never let go of Jon’s hand. “But now…now I am even more confused.”

“Why?”

“Because Batman needs a Robin, and I can’t leave my father now, Jon.” Damian almost snapped, like it was obvious. “He’s grieving, and he’s lost. He shouldn’t be alone. He shouldn’t be left alone.”

“Absolutely not. I agree.” Jon nodded. “But…it can’t all fall on you, D. Just like it can’t fall on Alfred or Tim. He has his family, no matter where in the world they – you – are, and he has his friends. He has my dad, and Diana.”

“This is different. This is the loss of Richard. And not even Superman can heal that wound.” Damian shook his head. “Not to mention…if I left now, would my father see it as a betrayal? Abandonment? Would the family?”

“They wouldn’t. They couldn’t.” Jon argued. “You’re growing up, and they all know how it is. You can’t be stuck as the Boy Wonder forever, that’s not fair to you. Does the timing kind of suck? Maybe. But also…maybe this is the best time.” He hesitated, but squeezed Damian’s hand and said his thoughts anyway. “Maybe this is exactly what Dick would want you to do. Spread your wings and fly, so to speak.”

Damian stared at the ground. “…I don’t know what I’m going to do without him, Jon. I truly don’t. What if, without his guidance, I’m tempted by my mother again, and actually consider any offer she makes? What if I stray, and Batman cuts me loose, like I was burden in the first place? What if-”

“Hey, hey – stop. Don’t talk like that.” Jon shook their clasped hands. “None of that is going to happen, okay? Despite the fact that it won’t ever happen at all in the first place, I won’t let it. I promise. Alright?”

Damian didn’t look at him. But after a moment, he let himself tilt to the side, and lean his head on Jon’s shoulder.

“…Thanks for being here, Kent.” Damian whispered. “It means a lot.”

Jon let go of Damian’s hand, only to wrap his arm around his shoulders instead. He looked at the tombstone at their feet, sent a silent prayer up to Dick himself. “Don’t even mention it, D.”

A few months later, Robin had all but disappeared off the streets. It prompted news articles and primetime specials. Conspiracy theory websites and Twitter hashtags.

Jon liked to print them out and bring them to Damian every time he visited.

He was still in Gotham, and even still going out on patrol with Batman and the rest. But now his uniform was all black, and he stayed in the background as much as he could. This new shadow of Batman’s was never mentioned in the papers, never caught in a photo. A ghost, almost.

That wasn’t Damian’s new moniker, though. He still hadn’t chosen one.

“Not even a general idea?” Jon asked one day, as he and Conner visited. Tim had taken the newly printed article and was reading it over with an amused smirk, Conner cackling behind him. “Or like, a motif?”

“Not a priority.” Damian had shrugged. “Maybe I’ll never pick one.”

“Now you’re just being stubborn.” Jon pouted. “…How’s Bruce doing?”

Damian shrugged again. “Same as always. Attempts to lock himself in the cave, or in his office with work from Wayne Enterprises. I drag him out of the house at least every other day.”

Jon pursed his lips.

“But he’s been smiling lately. Like real smiles. So, it’s a start.” Damian promised. He knew Jon didn’t like this, Damian caring for Bruce. Because he knew that same care was not being reciprocated in the way it should.

“How long are you going to stay?” Jon asked, as he did every visit. “In Gotham, I mean.”

“I don’t know. Also not a priority.” Damian sighed. “I’m needed here, both in uniform and at home. When I feel I’m not necessarily needed, then I’ll start considering my options elsewhere.”

Something felt different when Jon was nineteen.

Clark and Conner found him sitting in the kitchen, staring fiercely into a soda can when they arrived home one afternoon.

“Hey, champ.” Clark hummed, leaning down to kiss Jon’s temple.

“Hey, Dad. Hey Kon” Jon sighed. “How was Gotham?”

“Gloomy, like always.” Conner chuckled, plopping down across from him. “Damian said hello, by the way.”

Jon felt himself blush a little bit. And he shouldn’t have, he’s known Damian forever. But lately, it felt like the two of them were growing closer, in a way he never expected when they were just teenagers trying to live up to their fathers’ legacies.

In a way that included flirting, holding hands in a park, in front of paparazzi. A way that included what may have been a date, since it ended in a quick, barely there kiss.

“He said he was going to give an answer to a question he knows you’d ask.” Clark continued, drawing Jon out of his reverie. “No, he has not decided on a new codename yet.”

Jon groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “He knows this isn’t like a blood contract or something, right? It doesn’t have to be permanent! It’s not that big of a choice!”

Clark held his hands up. “Don’t shoot the messenger, son.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jon sighed. He sat back up and watched his father grab a glass and start to fill it in the sink. “Speaking of codenames and all that…”

Clark tilted his head as Conner sat up.

“I don’t…when do you think…” Jon huffed. “Conner, when did you realize you didn’t want to…be called Superboy anymore?”

Conner pursed his lips, looked at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Guess I never really thought about it. Just…stopped using it. And eventually everyone else did too.”

“I don’t think I knew that.” Clark mumbled sheepishly. “What do you go by now, may I ask?”

“Nothing, really. And not like Damian where I’m still deciding something. But just…Kon, usually. Different enough from Conner, honestly.” Conner grinned. “A lot of people also seem to think it’s Con – as in Pros and Cons? Works real well for the taunting wordplay and all that too.”

Clark snorted. “I’m sure your friends love the puns.”

“Bart does. Cassie, depends on the day. Tim is like a disappointed dad all the time anyway, so he doesn’t count.” Conner waved off. He returned his attention to Jon, whose attention seemed to be drifting off again. “Why do you ask, squirt?”

Jon frowned at the name, and that was new. Normally he didn’t mind the random nicknames his older brother gave him. “Because…I don’t…I don’t know. I don’t think…I want to be called Superboy anymore.”

Clark joined them at the table, sitting down carefully. “Why not?”

“Because, I’m not a boy anymore. I’m a teenager. I mean, I’m…I’m practically an adult!” Jon sounded exasperated already, like he’d had this conversation a million times. “It’s…it’s demeaning, and childish, and…and…”

He trailed off into a huff, slumping in his chair.

“I don’t even know if I want to keep the Super part, honestly.” Jon glanced at Clark. “Sorry, Dad.”

Clark shook his head, raising his hand. “None taken, Jonno.”

“Especially since I don’t feel all that super most of the time anyway.” He sighed.

“…If you want out of the life, Jon, I wouldn’t blame you.” Clark offered. “I’d love it, honestly. It’d just mean you’d be safer.”

“No, no. I want to be a hero. I want to help. I just.” Jon leaned back forward, hiding his face in his hands. “This is stupid. I feel stupid.”

Conner smiled and leaned forward, slapping his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Not stupid. Pretty sure every hero has gone through it at least once in their tenure. Even Batman.”

“And he settled on Bat. Man.” Clark winked. “So obviously not all names are winners.”

Jon looked over to Clark. “…You’re not disappointed?”

“That you want a new codename? Not at all.” Clark grinned. “My only request is…don’t take over four years to decide something like Damian is.”

Jon smiled. “I’ll try.”

“Maybe I’ll just go by Krypto.” Jon lamented from the bed. “He’s a dog, so I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“If you started going by Krypto.” Damian countered from the bathroom doorway. “I’m disowning you as my friend.”

Jon rolled to his side, deeper into the blankets. “What about as your potential bedmate?”

Damian’s face twisted, even as he came forward. “Christ, Jon. We haven’t even done anything, how do you still make that sound so dirty?”

“Because I know what annoys you. And if you’d just let me say boyfriend-”

“Which we are not officially.” Damian countered. “…Yet.”

“-Then I wouldn’t have to say things like bedmate, or friend with benefits.”

“We haven’t done anything, there is no benefit for either of us at this point.” Damian reiterated, even as Jon tugged at his arm when he got close enough. Damian sat on the edge of the bed, and almost smiled when Jon shimmied over to place his head in his lap. “Though I am finding your company less beneficial by the minute…”

Jon cackled, even as he felt Damian’s fingers twist into his hair. “Hey, if nothing else, I’m a good cuddle buddy, right?”

“My cat is better.” Damian shrugged. “Probably.”

“I’ll take the probably as a win.” Jon grinned. “…But hey, think about it this way.”

“Hm?”

“Even if I went by something dumb like Krypto, at least I picked a new codename.”

Damian frowned, and pulled his hand back. “For as charming as your parents are, neither of them taught you how to flirt properly, did they?”

Jon immediately pulled his arms out of the blanket, latching on to Damian’s waist. “You hate when I sidetrack a conversation. I was getting back on point.”

“…Fair.” Damian sighed. “I’ll allow it.”

“…Are you any closer to picking anything?” Jon asked. “According to Barry, you’re throwing off everyone’s betting pools.”

“I...have an idea.” Damian murmured, keeping his gaze away from Jon’s. “But I still need to think of a backup.”

“What? Why?” Jon asked.

“…Personal reasons.” Damian murmured. “And I don’t wish to get my hopes up.”

Jon watched him silently.

“But we aren’t talking about me.” Damian countered. “Have you thought of any other suggestions for yourself?”

“I don’t know. Something related to my dad, like Krypton? Or even like your dad – he named himself after what he was scared of, right? Or weakness. So, Kryptonite.” Jon listed. “Or maybe I should just be lazy and follow everyone else’s lead. Starman, or Sunguy or something stupid like that.”

“Hm. Well. Those are certainly…options.” Damian tilted his head apologetically. “I’d offer assistance, but…well…”

Jon laughed.

“Be my distraction instead, how about that?” Jon suggested instead. Without warning, he used his momentum to throw Damian back onto the bed, cocoon him in the blankets as he loomed overhead. “Because there’s totally a lot of other things I’d like to be doing than thinking of new codenames.”

Damian smiled as Jon leaned in for a kiss.

He didn’t know how Damian had lasted four years without a name. It’d only been a few months for himself, a few months of not using any name, and he felt like he was going crazy.

He also felt like he was a total letdown.

He was a Kent, for crying out loud. Son of Superman and one of the world’s greatest journalists. And here, he couldn’t choose a name, couldn’t pick a damn word.

Not to mention, it was detrimental in the field. When he didn’t notice an enemy coming behind him, or someone needed his help – he had no name to be called. And they couldn’t just shout Jon.

How did Damian make it look so easy? Because Damian and his family were freaks. They all moved too in-sync, too well trained. They were like animals themselves – they didn’t need to speak, movement was like instinct. Communication could be silent, because all of them were always three steps ahead of each other.

He let out a guttural groan as he entered the apartment, slammed the door behind him a little too hard. Heard the squeak of the chair in his mother’s office as she stood to greet him.

“Hi honey.” She called, walking into the room. She took in the annoyance on his face and gave him a sympathetic, knowing grin. “It’s not the end of the world, Jon. Names aren’t that big of a deal. So long as you’re helping, who cares what your name is?”

“I know, I know.” Jon mumbled, kicking off his shoes. “I’m just frustrated. It shouldn’t be this hard! Why doesn’t anything feel right?”

“Because it’s not.” Lois shrugged simply, leading the way into the kitchen. She motioned for Jon to sit, and got out a mug for him. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. It might take a while, but – when you know, you know.”

Jon groaned again. “Mom, I love you – but that was literally no help whatsoever.”

“Sometimes, the truth isn’t helpful.” She laughed, pouring him a glass of ice tea. She set it in front of him, and kissed his head. “But if you’re really struggling with this…talk to your father. He’s helped a young hero or two discover a new path before. You’re no different just because you’re his son.” She paused. “In fact, I’m a little surprised Damian hadn’t told you.”

“Told me what?” Jon stomach nearly dropped. “Dad finally helped him decide on a name too?!”

“Of course not. Damian is as stubborn and tight-lipped as his own idiot of a father.” Lois rolled her eyes, but it was fond. “No, his brother – Dick.”

Jon blinked.

“Nightwing was a Kryptonian name. From the Kryptonian legend of Nightwing and Flamebird.” She hummed thoughtfully. “Even if you don’t want you father’s help on a name, ask him about the story. It’s very good.”

Tim found Damian in the cave alone, and his gut immediately told him that something was off. Not wrong, but…not necessarily good.

“Hey.” He offered. “What’s up?”

Damian didn’t move from the computer chair. He looked too much like Bruce in that moment – slouched, hands steepled in front of his face, looking too thoughtful for someone so young.

“I’d like to talk to you.” Damian returned, just as vaguely.

“I’m all ears.”

Damian hesitated a moment. Dragged it to two. Tim was about to speak, to push the conversation along, when Damian sighed. “I…we didn’t do it right last time. And I don’t want to make the same mistake twice. Not here. Not with you.”

“…Damian?” Tim asked, moving towards him. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, no. I just.” He sighed. “I wanted to ask your…opinion.”

“On?”

“I think I’ve chosen a new moniker to go by.” Damian murmured. “But I want to make sure I had permission first.”

“Permission?” Tim repeated, bewildered. “I mean…as long it’s not like Red Robin or Red Hood or something, I think you can go by whatever you wa-”

“Nightwing.”

Damian’s voice was so quiet when he said it, Tim almost thought he’d misheard, or that maybe Damian didn’t actually speak at all. That it was maybe a breeze, or a ghost.

But when Damian said nothing else, eyes still not on him, Tim realized he said exactly as he’d heard. “…Really?”

Damian nodded, but seemed to swallow a lump in his throat.

“I mean, those are quite some shoes to fill, especially after all these years, but…” Then Tim paused, replayed what Damian already said. “…Wait, why would you need my permission to use Dick’s old name?”

Damian still didn’t look at him. “Because last time I changed names, I took yours.” He frowned. “I stole yours.”

Tim shrugged. “It was over a decade ago. I know you and I have held a lot of grudges in our lives, but trust me. I’m over that one.”

“And I know Todd would never want Nightwing.” Damian continued as if Tim never spoke. “But…you were next in line. You loved Grayson like I did.” Finally, he looked up, eyes boring into Tim’s. “And you’d deserve it.”

Tim stepped back like someone had punched him in the chest. “Damian…”

“You do, and you know it.” Damian continued. “You’ve fought tooth and nail for respect in this family, for every title you’ve ever carried. You fought for your independence, and have thrived as Red Robin. In a way, you are everything Nightwing embodies, and you deserve the title most.” Damian’s gaze dropped once more. “And I don’t want to take that opportunity from you. Not like I’ve taken everything else from you too.”

Tim just stared.

“He would have chosen you himself. I know it. If he were…” Damian trailed off. Seemed to have to take a moment to compose himself. “…If he were still here.”

Tim lowered his own eyes at the thought. It’d been five years since their beloved older brother died. Despite what the world tried to say, time didn’t heal all wounds, and the loss of Dick Grayson was a wound that seemed almost infected now, especially for Damian.

The world was less without him. Less bright, less kind, less happy – less everything.

Just…less.

After a moment Tim smiled. Picked his head up and moved forward so he could crouch next to the chair, leaning his arms on it. Despite being twenty-three years old, Damian turned his head away so he didn’t have to look at Tim, just like a child.

“I don’t want Nightwing.” Tim said honestly. “I’m happy with where I am and what I’m doing. But I appreciate you asking. I’m…honored, in fact.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. I guess.” Damian mumbled.

“But I have to say I disagree with you.” Tim leaned his chin on his arms. “Dick wouldn’t have picked me to succeed him. He wouldn’t have picked anyone. But he would have been so proud to see you take it on after him.”

Damian closed his eyes, sucked his lips between his teeth.

“Because, for once, I’ll toot my own horn a little bit. I won’t disagree with you on this one. Maybe I do deserve the Nightwing name.” Tim admitted. “But I’m not the only one.”

Damian didn’t answer, but shook his head.

“You do too, Damian.” Tim reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. “You’ve overcome so much. You’ve done so much. And Dick was proud of you for it until the day he died. I know he was.”

Damian opened his eyes and looked at Tim. The tears immediately fell down his cheeks.

“And he’d be honored, knowing you wanted to follow in his footsteps, and carry on his legacy, for a second time.” Tim chuckled. “Especially after your first words to us when you were a kid was how badly you wanted to be Batman.”

“One day I still will be.” Damian blubbered with a laugh. Tim laughed too.

“I know.” He hummed warmly. “But that was all a long, surprisingly emotionally-charged way to say: while it’s not mine to give, yes you have my permission to become Nightwing.”

Even as his tears continued to fall, Damian stared at Tim for a few more seconds, before leaning forward and, once again to Tim’s surprise, enveloped his older brother in a hug.

“Thank you, Drake.” He whispered. Tim just let his smile widen as he held Damian just as tightly back. “Thank you so much.”

“Tim told me Damian finally picked a new name.” Conner said one morning, as the two of them sat on a rooftop overlooking Metropolis. “…He also mentioned you two might be dating?”

Jon’s eyes widened slightly as he tried to keep his heart rate in check. Damian had told Tim?

“He hasn’t told me about choosing a name.” Jon said instead. “When did this supposedly happen?”

“The other day. Maybe he hasn’t made it official yet.” Conner shrugged. Then he grinned. “Though you’d think he’d tell his boyfriend about it anyway.”

Jon frowned. “We’re not dating.” A hesitation. “Officially.”

“Ooooh.” Conner mocked, scooting closer. “Tell me everything.”

Jon rolled his eyes, but laughed as he pushed Conner’s shoulder. “First off, not your business. And second, there’s nothing to tell? We hang out. We hold hands. We…do things.”

Conner wiggled his eyebrows.

“Stop.” Jon chuckled. “I just…like being with him. Being close to him makes me feel happy. Safe. All that cliché stuff.”

“Has he reciprocated?” Jon nodded. “Then why not official?”

“His choice. I think he feels like he’d be judged for having actual emotions or something.” Jon shrugged. “I also think he feels like he’s…not good enough? Or a bad person, or something, and is hoping I might find someone else before we’re legit.”

“Ouch.”

“It sucks, but…I get it.” Jon sighed. “And he just…has stuff going on. Mentally, I think.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we started flirting a little bit right before Dick died. So our whole relationship so far, romantically, he’s trying to deal with the loss, with the vacuum that loss created in his family, and growing in his role as a hero.” Jon listed. “He’s stuck in his own head so much that honestly I’m just happy when I can get him to smile some days.”

“That’s sweet.” Conner grinned. “And proof you’re head over heels.”

“I mean…did I ever deny that?” Jon grinned back, but it was sad. Conner’s own smile fell slightly.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Jon exhaled a bitter laugh. “That obvious?”

“Does he know?”

“I think so?” Jon thought out loud. “And I think that’s why he thinks himself such a terrible person.”

“Because he doesn’t love you back?”

“No, no. I think he absolutely does.” Jon said confidently. “It’s just like I said – he thinks himself as a bad person, and that I deserve better.”

“That’s…” Conner pursed his lips. “…quite the conundrum.”

“Yeah.” Jon smiled wistfully. “But anyway, the name. Did Tim say what name he chose?”

“Nope.” Conner kicked his feet against the building. “Tim said it was incredibly personal, and he wasn’t the one to share it.”

“Interesting.” Jon muttered. “Wonder what it could be?”

He was twenty, very much an adult, but oh boy, did he feel like a rebellious teenager right now.

After all, how else were you supposed to feel when you and your not-quite-boyfriend were lying almost naked, cuddled up in your parents’ bed?

Somewhere in his mind he was panicking. If – when – they found out, he was doomed. He’d never live it down.

(But at the same time, it was also totally not his fault. Their apartment was closer to downtown than his was, and the room he still had here only had a single bed. There was no way they’d fit. And since his father was in space and his mother in the Philippines, the bed would have just gone to waste being empty, so…)

Though, simultaneously, any fear of repercussions was drowned out by the utter bliss he felt at being cocooned in Damian’s arms, and using his collarbone as a pillow while they watched the nightly news.

Under his ear, he felt Damian’s heartbeat slowing, a clear sign he was falling asleep. So it was the perfect time to ask:

“I hear you picked a new codename.”

Damian stirred a little and hummed, “Yeah.”

“What name did you pick, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Damian hesitated a moment, then whispered, “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Never.”

“…Nightwing.” Damian answered sheepishly. Quietly, like he wasn’t allowed to say it. “I…decided to carry on Grayson’s legacy.”

Jon turned and looked up at him. Without thinking he cupped Damian’s cheek in his hand. “Oh, Damian, that’s wonderful.” Damian kept his gaze over Jon’s shoulder, face heating up in an embarrassed flush. “He’d love it, he’d be so happy.” He stroked his thumb across Damian’s skin. “I’m so proud of you.”

Damian snorted. “Nothing to be proud of. It took me five years to pick a name someone had already used.”

“For good reason.” Jon countered. “And an homage to a great man.”

Damian allowed himself to look at Jon now. He stared at him for a moment, taking in his face, then carefully took hold of Jon’s wrist, and leaned in for a kiss, which Jon ate up greedily.

After a moment, they separated, and Jon twisted back to stare at the TV, Damian’s arms still tight around him.

“…What about you?” Damian asked softly. “Any ideas?”

“I don’t know. Superdude is sounding better and better every day.” Jon said dryly. “But I guess I haven’t really been thinking about it either. Been focused on some other more important things lately.”

“Oh? Like what? School?”

Jon grinned, kept his eyes on the weather report now lighting up the room.

“You.”

Damian didn’t answer, but Jon felt him gently kiss his temple, and lean their heads together.

“Mom said I should ask my dad.” Jon hummed as he paid for their coffee. “But we haven’t seen each other in a while, and you know more about Krypton and all that stuff than he does, you know?”

“Sure.” Kara smiled, taking her cup from his hand. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re so interested in some old Kryptonian legend?”

“Just curiosity, mostly.” Jon shrugged. “Dad helped Dick Grayson become Nightwing back in the day, and now that Damian is taking the title on, I figured I should learn a little bit about it myself.”

“To support your future husband?” Kara smirked.

“Stop.” Jon groaned. “I should have never told Conner the truth.”

“I’m just glad to know you’re happy.” Kara squeezed his hand as they walked outside. “And also that I now have a viable reason to beat Damian up.”

“And that reason would be?”

“For the honor of my littlest cousin.” She winked. Jon found himself laughing. “Thanks for walking me back to the office, by the way. I’m sorry we couldn’t have lunch today.”

“I totally understand. I have to get back to campus for class soon anyway.” Jon waved off. “Rain check for a movie night, though?”

“Absolutely. Go buy a lot of tissues, wine and chocolate, because I am in the mood for some tearjerkers.” Kara demanded. “And…Damian is more than welcome to join us, if he’d like.”

“He’d never.” Jon promised as they jogged across a crosswalk. “But he’ll appreciate the invite.”

“Are you just saying that, or would he really?”

“Honestly, he really would.” Jon swore. “He’s trying not to take little things like that for granted anymore. Not since…well. You know.”

Kara frowned. “…I miss him too.”

“Everyone does.” Jon murmured as they stopped outside a building. Some people waved to Kara as they exited and jumped into a taxi nearby. “He was the best of all of us.”

“Give Damian my regards, and a hug for me. Tell him I’m sorry about Dick, if you think it’s appropriate.” Kara murmured as she turned to her purse, and began digging in it. After a moment, she held out a book. It looked old, and pages were misshaped, almost like they’d been gnawed on, or burned. “First, last and only edition.”

Jon took the tome, marveling at the etched green cover, and symbols seemingly floating around the image. But then he frowned. “Kara.” He sighed. “You know my Kryptonian isn’t that good.”

“Well then this will be a great tool to learn.” She smiled, squeezing his bicep. Someone suddenly called Kara from the door. She smiled and waved back before glancing to Jon. “Gotta go, kiddo. It was great seeing you! Tell your pops hi for me!”

She turned, and began to jog away, when Jon called after her. “Kara, wait!”

She did, glancing over her shoulder.

“Give me a quick summary?” He tried with a lopsided grin. “You know, to keep me interested?”

Kara twisted her lips in thought, then smiled. “Nightwing and Flamebird always find each other in the end.”

She took a sip of her coffee and disappeared into her office.

By two o’clock in the morning that very night, Jon sat at the desk in his apartment, tears pouring down his face.

The legend was magical, breathtaking, awe-inspiring…but heartbreaking. The most heartbreaking thing he’d ever read.

But it also made him realize exactly what he needed to do. Exactly what his future was.

Exactly who his future was.

Without thinking, he wiped the tears from his eyes, and laughed as he stood, turning towards his window.

It would be a quick flight to Gotham, and surely Alfred was still awake at this hour.

Damian stood on the top of Wayne Tower, staring at the city below him. The city he’d come to think of as home. The city that was…his.

He felt weird without the cape, without the hood. Was still getting used to the tight, plain bodysuit. The lighter armour. The dip of red across his chest.

He could take Grayson’s name, but he could never take his colors. That blue was too pure. Damian refused to taint it.

He inhaled and held his breath, then exhaled slowly. It was his first night in his new gear – would the villains know who he was? Would they mock him? Could he live up to his brother’s standards? Would he honor his memory?

“Damn.” He heard off to his side. “You look good.”

Damian glanced over, and found himself at a loss for words. The other man was in a similarly simple bodysuit, though instead of black, it was a deep blue. Opposite of the downward red arrow on Damian’s chest, the bright, near-blinding golden arrow on the other pointed upwards, almost looking like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

Damian stared for a moment, taking it in, before meeting Jon’s eyes. “This is new.”

“You like?” Jon asked, practically shy. “Alfred helped me make it.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Jon stepped forwards. His boots, which matched the shimmering yellow on his chest, seemed to flicker as he walked, like fire. “I mean, he helped make yours, and it’s only natural our designs match a little bit.”

“Why would they need to match?” Damian asked. Then he squinted. “Jonathan Kent, have you chosen a new moniker?”

“I did indeed.” Jon grinned. “Surely Dick told you how he got his name.”

“He did.”

“Did he tell you the story behind it?”

“He did not. But I’ve heard of it.” Damian found his voice going quieter, his throat drying up. “Your father told me, I believe.”

“Mhm.” Jon reached out, gently taking Damian’s hand in his, raising it between them. “And do you remember how it goes?”

Damian blinked, then smiled. “Refresh my memory.”

“Nightwing can’t exist without Flamebird.” Jon smirked. He pressed his lips to Damian’s knuckles. “And no matter the universe, no matter the situation, they always find each other in the end.”

“…Well, Flamebird.” Damian whispered softly. “I’m glad you found me.”

“I’m glad you found me too.” Jon stood back up. “Ready for our first official patrol in the new digs? Say goodbye to Robin and Superboy forever?”

“Do you want to call it our first official patrol?” Damian let his grin widen. “Or perhaps our first official date?”

Jon gaped at him, eyes wide and hopeful. “For real?”

“For real.” Damian promised. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting-”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Jon surged forward, wrapping him in his arms and lifting him off the tower’s ledge as he smashed their mouths together. Damian let his surprise linger for only a second, before grabbing both sides of Jon’s head and returning the gesture.

The moment felt like it lasted both an eternity and no longer than a blink. When they parted, they were both out of breath, and trembling from the emotional adrenaline.

“Flamebird.” Damian breathed as Jon lowered him, his hands still on Jon’s face. “I think I like it.”

“Good. Because I didn’t have any backups.” Jon chuckled.

“It suits you, I think.” Damian smiled.

“Nightwing suits you just as well.” Jon countered. “…Dick would be so proud.”

Damian just lowered his gaze, but allowed himself to keep smiling.

“…Well.” Damian exhaled, looking out into the city. “Shall we?”

Jon bowed, holding his arm out. “After you, ‘Wing.”

Damian laughed and turned, stepping off the building and allowing himself to freefall. “Follow me, ‘Bird.”

Jon smiled, and jumped right after him.

#jon kent #Damian Wayne #jondami #Tim Drake #conner kent #kara zor-el #clark kent #Lois Lane

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ohemgeeitscoley · 4 years

Text

Rey doesn't think when she calls Ben to go into her emails to send off her draft email with her final to her professor.

It isn't until she's off the phone that she remembers all the other draft emails are to him and vary from confessing her love to him and describing in detail what exactly she wants to do to his body.

No, Rey didn't think this through at all.

These letters to you (1/1)

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Rey/Ben Solo (Reylo)

Note: This came from this prompt from the ReylosPrompt Twitter account.

Curious Cat Prompt: "Ben finds a draft on Rey’s email addressed to him confessing her love and lust for him."

@andyouweremine and @storiesofimagination are some of the best betas a girl could ever ask for. They make sure that my tenses stay correct and reassure me the entire time that I’m writing. They are the best cheerleaders and I wouldn’t know what to do without them. <3

Read below or on AO3.

Please pick up. Please pick up. If there is any sort of fairness in the galaxy, please pick up your fucking phone--

"Hello?" Ben's voice is low, deeper than usual. It's his mostly asleep voice. Rey hates that she has thought enough about the variances of Ben's voice to know the different tones almost as much as she hates the fact that a sleepy Ben Solo is almost always her favorite version of Ben.

Ben had been one of the first people Rey had met when she transferred in as a sophomore. He had been in his first year at the law school. They both fought for the right to study under a specific tree toward the edge of the campus. It was quiet, far enough away from the hot spots to really attract much attention or noise. The leaves were big and provided plenty of shade from the sun. The ground was soft and mostly free of any large rocks or bouts of even landscaping.

It was Rey's favorite spot.

They fought over the tree for two months, both of them refusing to leave and each attempting to annoy the other into giving the spot up. It didn't take long for them to realize that when they were just sitting under the tree, quietly, together studying, it wasn't so bad.

It was actually nice, not being alone.

Rey moved into Ben's apartment the following fall and they'd been best friends ever since.

Rey's fairly certain she's been in love with him for roughly the same amount of time.

Not that she has the time to be getting lost down that particular rabbit hole.

"Thank God, you answered," Rey responds, twisting the cord of the phone around one of her fingers. Everything about the diner she works at is a little bit kitschy and old, but having to make a call on a phone actually attached to a wall with cords is a whole different experience. "I'm so sorry I woke you up. I know you were up late studying."

"Rey?" Ben asks while yawning. Rey can hear him shuffle around in his bed. "It's not even 6 AM, is everything okay?"

"You answered," Rey smiles, hoping Ben knows that she is practically beaming at him through the phone. "Everything is going to be fine. My final paper is due at 6. On the dot. I was too nervous to send it last night when I finished it. I was going to send it in this morning, after I had a chance to at least look over it for grammar and spelling, but I'm me and I--"

"Slept through your first four alarms and barely made it out the door for work?" Ben interrupts.

"Yes." Rey sighs, rolling her eyes. "Anyways. You know I can't use my cell at work, I'm probably going to get shit for this call, and you're the only number I have memorized. So I really, really need you to get on my computer, go to my email and send in my paper. I have a draft saved and everything. All you have to do is get in my drafts folder and hit send."

"Sure," Ben agrees. "Password for your laptop?"

"Capital d-y-at sign-d-hashtag-number 3-exclamation point."

"I'm on it." Rey can hear Ben's door open, the same squeak sounding over the phone that she complains about every night when he's anxious from studying and walks back and forth from his room to the kitchen every twenty minutes. "Consider it done."

"You're the best roommate, slash friend, slash just all around hero of my life," Rey blushes, stopping just short of adding 'probably the love of my life' at the end of her sentence. Thinking about her feelings for Ben is definitely a rabbit hole she is better off to avoid. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"It's the least I can do if I'm really the only phone number you have memorized."

"It's 2020, Ben," Rey teases. "The fact that I have your number memorized is really impressive."

"Why mine?"

Rey can hear water running in the background, a cabinet opening and a drawer shutting. Rey hates that she can clearly see Ben in their kitchen, making coffee, probably with a slightly grumpy look on his face because Rey knows that she put the grinder and the filters back in the wrong spot. She hates it the same way she hates knowing that Ben won't say anything about the misplaced items to her, and that if she were home he would make her cup of coffee first.

The way Ben always takes care of her first drives Rey crazy most days.

"I figure the only time I'm ever going to need to call someone without having access to my phone would be in a real emergency. And you're the person I would want to call." Rey bites her lip, shaking her head as if she could shake away how vulnerable she sounds to her own ears. "Or, if I've been arrested. And if that's the case, you're the only lawyer I know."

Ben snorts. "I have to actually finish next semester and pass the bar to be a real lawyer."

"You're going to pass," Rey gently reminds him. It's the same conversation they've been having since the beginning of the year. "And then you're going to kick legal ass all over New York."

Ben's laugh is warm. "You should go back to work, don't worry about your paper. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't. Text me what you want for dinner. I'll pick it up on my way home from my last final."

Rey hangs the phone back up on the wall and walks back out into the diner. She smiles, grabbing a rag to wipe down the front counter. Her nerves finally calm knowing that Ben wouldn't let her down and she no longer had to worry about failing one of her last classes.

Ben would just go into her draft emails and send the email on to her professor.

Into her draft emails.

Her draft emails.

Fuck.

***

Ben is not surprised when he opens Rey's email and sees that she has 37 draft emails. It's honestly exactly what he expects.

He blows across the top of his mug, watching as the steam from the cup scatters. The coffee's still too hot to drink, but it's 5:57 in the morning and Ben's only had 2 hours of sleep.

If he survives law school and passes the bar, Ben is going to need a three week long nap.

Taking a drink from the mug, Ben grimaces as the too hot liquid burns his tongue and throat, and yet at the same time warms his soul. Ben opens the draft emails, seeing the one at the top to Rey's professor. It's easy enough to look at, make sure that there's an attachment attached and that Rey's message isn't full of 2 AM Rey snark.

It's sent by 5:59.

Ben's glad that he woke up to his phone going off and that he answered. Usually, answering unknown numbers isn't something Ben does, but he's always a little more cautious when Rey is gone and it's a local number. Just in case.

Answering a spam call and wasting 5 seconds but knowing Rey is fine is worth it.

Everything about the call fell into the 'reasons to tell Rey about his feelings' column in the pro/con list he kept in his mind. Rey had his number memorized in case of emergencies.

Somehow Rey Johnson had decided that he was worthy and could be trusted to be someone she could rely on.

And for Rey, with all of the abandonment issues Ben knows about, to trust him to be there for her… it means more than Ben can say.

Falling completely in love with his best friend was not on his list of things to complete before finishing law school.

Though he thinks it might be the most worthwhile thing he's done in the three years. If he wasn't absolutely terrified of Rey not feeling the same way and ruining their friendship, Ben knows that loving her, being loved by her… that would be the honor of a lifetime.

Tilting his head back, Ben reaches for his mug and takes another drink. These are the kinds of thoughts that Ben knows he cannot dwell on so early and on such little sleep. He's going to fuck up one day and send her a text message confessing that he does actually reorganize their kitchen cabinets sometimes just because he thinks that the way she scrunches her nose when she's confused and angry is the cutest thing in the world.

Maybe he'll just text her that he loves her and not in a friend way. But in a ‘very real, very romantic, wants to take her on dates, and make her toes curl in pleasure’ kind of way.

Which is why Ben needs to go back to bed and try to sleep before studying again. His last final is tomorrow and if he isn't smart enough to list ten reasons why texting Rey about how pretty he thinks her freckles are in the sunlight, well, he has no idea how he's going to pass his trademarks and false advertising final.

Ben is just starting to close the laptop when he sees his email on one of the draft emails. He knows that he shouldn't snoop in Rey's draft emails, but it's addressed to him and it's probably just a dumb meme that she forgot to hit send on.

Because Rey sends Ben a lot of dumb memes. It's one of the things he loves about her.

Ben pushes the screen up and is stunned to find that there are a bunch of emails to him.

Before he can think his way out of doing it, Ben opens the first email.

Dear Ben:

I came home early from work and you were shirtless and exercising in the living room

First: rude.

Second: I've decided it's unfair for you to ever wear shirts and you should be shirtless all the time

Third: actually, no one else needs to know about this gross injustice and you should only not wear shirts around me

Fourth: have you always been so... big?

Fifth: I need to go to bed and think more about this.

Yours,

Rey

Ben takes a deep breath. That was not a dumb meme.

That was the furthest thing from a dumb meme.

Ben slowly releases his breath, closing out of the draft email. He should stop. He knows he should shut down Rey’s computer and that he absolutely should not open another draft email to him.

But he needs to know what else they say. For the first time in three years, there's a spark of hope inside Ben that maybe Rey feels something for him. So he looks down the list of drafts and opens one from 6 months ago on his birthday.

Ben,

It's your birthday. I know you aren't comfortable with attention being solely focused on you, but I'm so glad that you seemed to be enjoying yourself tonight.

You deserve it. You're always so hard on yourself. I wish you could see you the way I see you. How kind and caring and thoughtful you can be. It never fails to amaze me, just how wonderful you really are.

You looked gorgeous. I had to stop myself from telling you just what seeing you in that suit did to me. I almost told you how badly I want you.

I drank too much. I hate that you thought you had to leave the club to make sure that I made it back home okay, but I also… God Ben, you are always taking care of me.

No one else has done that for me.

You got me in bed, made sure I could change out of my outfit (which did you like my outfit? I thought you looked like you appreciated it when I walked out of my room, but you didn't say anything. I mean of course you didn't say anything. But I hope you did. I wore it for you.) you even brought water and aspirin for me to take tomorrow morning when I wake up.

You kissed my forehead when you tucked me in.

I just want to kiss you.

Well, I want to do more than just kiss you. But kissing seems like a good place to start.

Which is how I ended up here. Reading all of these unsent emails to you. I almost hit send on the first one I wrote. My feelings for you haven't changed.

But I'm so so scared.

I am terrified Ben.

I can't lose you. You've become the one constant in my life and I don't know what I would do without you in it.

What if you don't feel the same way? What if I ruin everything?

I should go to bed. I just wish that I were in your arms instead of alone.

I'm so tired of being alone.

Anyways.

Happy birthday, Ben.

Yours,

Rey

Ben reads the email four times before it really clicks in his brain that Rey likes him. Rey has apparently liked him for at least six months, but maybe even longer since she referred to sending her first draft email and that her feelings hadn't changed.

Her feelings. For him.

His birthday had been the best birthday he could remember. Rey had planned the entire event. She had been so excited to celebrate him that it was hard not to embrace it.

Ben's birthdays usually consisted of a phone call from his parents, maybe lunch or dinner if they were in the same city, and a few text messages from others.

Rey woke him up with pancakes and waffles, because no one should have to choose between the two best breakfast foods on their birthday, and a detailed itinerary of all her ideas for the rest of the day.

She spent the entire day with him doing whatever he wanted to do. Watching his favorite movies, ordering lunch from his favorite restaurant, confirming with everyone the dinner plans and post-dinner drink plans she had made.

Ben had almost told Rey about his feelings for her that night. After reading her email, he wishes that he had.

How much time had they missed out on being together because they were both scared?

Ben shakes his head, he still isn't sure that this all is real. Maybe Rey hadn't really called and he is still asleep. Maybe this is all a dream.

He downs the last of the coffee in his mug, running a finger across the chip on the side.

Rey had tried throwing the mug out after she moved in, saying something about how they could just use his mugs. Ben had ignored her, placing the pastel colored mugs, chips and all, next to his glossy black ones in the cabinet. He told her the blue one was his favorite and it wasn't going anywhere.

The smile she had given him lit up the entire room.

He sets the mug back down on the table, scrolling down until he finds the first draft to him. I almost hit send on the first one I wrote. The email is dated the day before she moved in.

He opens it.

Ben,

I will probably never send this email, but I also don't know that I won't. I know that I want to send it. I want to be brave and to know the truth.

The thought of doing it is just scary though.

You know that you're my best friend right? It's hard for me to imagine a world without you in it, which for me is a lot. You haven't even been in my life for a year and you've already managed to make it so that I don't know what I'll do when you decide to leave.

That's what people do, Ben, they leave me.

It's just a fact in my life and knowing that, honestly, has kept me safe. I keep people at a distance, which wasn't hard growing up because I just bounced around from foster home to foster home and school to school. But now I'm here and I'm not going anywhere new anytime soon.

And then there's you.

For some reason, I believe you're not going anywhere either.

Which is scarier to me. I've never had anyone stay before. I don't know what to do with that.

A part of me needs to believe that you're going to leave. So when you do eventually move on and leave me behind it'll at least be something I knew was going to eventually happen.

Anyways. I've gotten really sidetracked here.

I've been going to therapy. Which you already know, since you're the one who kept telling me that it was something I should look into. Thanks for that by the way. You were right.

She suggested that I write letters to the people who have left or hurt me. Not to send, but to just, get my thoughts and feelings out of my head.

It helped.

Which is why I'm writing this email to you, even though I'll never be brave enough to send it. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about you, Ben. I need them out of my head.

I love you.

I am in love with you.

Not in a platonic way. In a very romantic way.

Almost everything you do drives me crazy and makes my heart warm and my face glow.

I want to kiss you and hold your hand. I want to find out if my head will fit in the crook of your neck when you hold me the way I think that it will. I want to commit the taste of your skin to my memory. I want to know the marks on your body better than I know my own. I want to know what you look like when you lose control and give into pleasure.

It's really apparent, I think, the way I feel about you.

Only you don't seem to notice. And I need to admit to myself that it's because you don't think of me that way.

Which is fine. I get it.

You're you… and I'm just, well, I'm just me.

But I'm moving in tomorrow and I just needed to get these thoughts out. Otherwise I'm a little worried I might just blurt it out when you help me wash the dishes or eat dinner with me. Which I'm sure sounds a little strange, but after a lifetime without these moments…

I imagine living with you is only going to make me fall more in love with you.

Maybe I'll just have to write you more.

Yours,

Rey

Ben doesn't bother to count how many times he rereads the email. He just keeps going back to the top as soon as he reads her name and starts again. He doesn't stop until he is sure he could repeat every word without looking at the screen.

And then he continues to read the email again, just to make sure.

Rey loves him.

Even with the words clearly on the screen for Ben to see, it's hard for him to believe. He's been in love with Rey since before she moved in. The idea that Rey has felt the same way the entire time doesn't make sense.

Ben is objectively smart. He isn't even shy about his intelligence. In fact any given classmate of his would likely describe him as an insufferable know it all. Rey loving him without Ben catching on for over two years is inconceivable. He would have noticed. He would have seen the signs. Certainly he would--

He reads the email again. And again. And again.

Every time he tries to find a way to read anything into it beyond 'Rey has admitted in three different emails, to various degrees, that she is physically attracted to you and that she is in love with you' he rereads the emails.

He doesn't read any more beyond the three. There are plenty of drafts to him that are unread, but he grasps the threads between them to form the overall picture without needing to read the individual emails.

He feels guilty if he thinks for too long about reading the ones he did. He has information now that he didn't have before. He reasons that it is information that he should have though. Because now that he knows and he thinks to any given memory of Rey, with just a tiny bit of certainty that Rey loves him…

Well it's the easiest thing in the world to see.

When he really thinks about it, Rey doesn't hide the way she loves him, she shines with it. He can see it in the way she smiles at him when he pulls the blanket from the back of the couch and tucks it around her during a movie. Her face soft and warm as she instinctively burrows into the heat.

He can see it in the way she keeps finding reasons to touch his arm when they are walking. Her hand guiding his elbow when she's giving directions. A finger tapping on his wrist when she wants him to follow her gaze. Her arm interlocked with his when she's had just a little too much to drink to still be steady in her heels.

It's certainly the way she trusts that he won't let her fall.

Ben closes the laptop, stretching as he stands. He places the empty coffee mug in the sink, rinsing out the small drops of coffee lingering in the bottom of the glass. The time on the stove clock mocks him.

7:34.

Rey isn't going to be home for hours. She'll go straight from the diner to her final. And he doesn't want to worry her by texting her. Especially when he knows she won't have a lot of time, if any, to text him back.

He isn't even sure what he would say to her.

He could study. He should study. He tries to study, but it's pointless. He can't really focus when at least half of his brain is still focused on Rey's emails.

Ben waits. Impatiently watching the clock and attempting to will time to pass faster. He reads his note cards in between planning the possible ways his conversation with Rey may go when she finally, finally gets home.

It's a long day.

***

Rey glances down at her phone for approximately the millionth time on her walk from the diner to campus. She's almost run into ten different people while walking because she's too focused on her phone and not where she is going.

There are no messages from Ben. No missed calls either.

Maybe Ben didn't see the emails. There's no way Ben would see the draft emails to him and not read them. And if he read them he absolutely would have texted her about them by now.

Right? Right.

Unless he thought that letting her down over a text message or a phone call is too impersonal. Maybe he is just waiting for her to get home to break her heart.

She should have just turned in the paper late. So what if she failed and had to retake the class over the summer and figure out a way to pay for it out of pocket? At least she would still have her best friend.

A drop of water hits Rey's face, Rey looks up from her phone and glares at the darkened sky. She doesn't remember rain being mentioned in the weather forecast, but that hardly matters as it starts raining harder.

Rey checks one more time for any messages before sliding her phone into her bag and running the rest of the way to class. She makes it inside of the building just before a large round of thunder and the rain starts to pour.

She sits at her desk, waiting for the rest of her classmates to show up. She pulls out her phone, debating if she should send Ben a message.

Hey! By now you probably read the emails. This is really embarrassing and obviously I should have deleted them instead of saving them. I'm an idiot. Please let me know when you need me to move out by. Sorry for making this so awkward.

You find two years worth of love letters and you have NOTHING to say to me??????

I assume that if you felt anything similar toward me you would have said something by now. Can we just pretend that you never saw them? I don't want this to change everything.

The professor walks in, handing off the test packets to another student to begin passing around.

There's not enough time for Rey to address any of this with Ben in a message. But she can't stomach the idea of not hearing from him at all before going home.

Rey: Hey! Getting ready to start my final, you never said what you want me to grab for dinner on my way home?

***

Rey hands in her test to her professor with a tight smile and a small wave. She's pretty sure she passed, which at this point, is all she can hope for.

She spent half of the time thinking of different scenarios that could be a possibility when she went back to the apartment. Anything near passing would be fine.

She walks out of the classroom and pulls out her phone. She has two messages from Ben.

Ben: Actually, I was thinking I would make dinner. Something to celebrate your last final.

Ben: Maybe something to distract me from studying.

Rey sighs as she walks toward the exit of the building. Maybe Ben didn't read the draft emails after all. Even if he didn't have feelings for her, surely they'd be enough to at least distract him.

Rey had poured her heart out in some of those emails. She knows there are at least a few where she went on and on about what she thought about Ben's body and the way his hair looked with him growing it out. A few where she made it clear about her thoughts about how kissable his lips looked, how she wondered what his fingers would feel like tracing her curves.

Even if he didn't have feelings for her, certainly he would be distracted by some of those emails.

Maybe she won't go home. Maybe she can avoid Ben long enough that she won't have to find out if he read the emails or not. She won't have to find out if she's ruined one of the best things in her life.

The sun is bright when Rey steps outside. The sidewalks are a darker grey, small puddles pooled around the cracks and uneven slabs.

Rey zips her jacket up, shivering slightly as the wind picks up speed.

She spends most of the walk home trying to fight against her disappointment at the thought that Ben hadn't gone through the emails to him. She had spent so much of her energy imagining Ben breaking it to her that he didn't feel the same way, but a part of her had been hoping that maybe, maybe he felt the same.

The idea that Ben just didn't read the emails was worse.

Maybe Rey should just tell him. Get her feelings out in the open and see what comes from it. There was a chance, a small chance, but still a chance that he felt the same way. Or that he could be open to the idea.

Rey: Sounds good! Need me to stop for anything? Dessert? Wine? Hard alcohol to help with the studying?

Ben doesn't respond until she's almost home.

Ben: No. The only thing missing is you.

***

Ben fidgets with the pen in his hand, twirling it in between his fingers. The pasta is done, the french bread is in the oven.

The only thing that is missing is Rey.

He glances down at his phone to check and see if Rey had responded, but there's no notification. She should be home soon and Ben still doesn't know what he's going to do when he sees her.

He knows what he wants to do. He doesn't want to waste anymore time. He wants to tell her that she's beautiful, because she is, even if she'll fight it because she always complains about how gross she feels after a shift at the diner when she has to head straight to class. She’s always beautiful though, and now he just wants to tell her that. He wants to be able to tell her that when she wakes up in the morning and she’s scrunching her face up against the harshness of the sun sneaking in, or when she is passionate about something and it lights up her entire face.

He wants to tell her that he loves her. That he has been in love with her the entire time too. He’s just not sure how.

It doesn't seem like enough to just say that he loves her. She wrote him fucking love letters. And even though Ben only read three, he knows that there are more and that they are just as lovely and somehow all about her feelings for him. She deserves more than just him saying that he feels the same way.

She deserves to know about the day he realized he was in love with her. She deserves to know about the way the slope of her neck into her shoulder drives him crazy. She deserves to know that he pretends to fall asleep during their movie nights because then she'll fall asleep and curl herself around him on the couch.

The oven beeps and Ben stands from the table, he closes his book, grabbing his note cards and pens and highlighters. He dumps the items into his bedroom, before walking back into the kitchen to pull the french bread out from the oven.

Ben's sliding the bread onto a cutting board, knife in his hand, when the door opens and Rey walks in.

Ben struggles to remember how to breathe as he stares at her. She looks beautiful. But she's nervous, her fingers are playing with the sleeve of her jacket, pulling and twisting at the loose fabric. She shuts the door, taking a step into the kitchen.

She's staring at Ben and he can see it now. She loves him and he can see it. How had he never noticed it before?

Maybe he really was an idiot.

He had spent all day fighting his own nerves, trying to come up with the perfect plan on how to tell Rey that he never thought about what she must have spent the entire day doing.

Obviously, she knew that she sent him into her draft emails and that there was a chance that he would see the emails.

Did she know that he read them? Is that why she is looking at him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open, as if she is almost about to say something, but she doesn't.

Of course she's worried that he doesn't feel the same way. Why else would she keep writing him draft emails while not saying anything or giving him any real signs about her feelings?

He sets the knife down next to the bread and takes a step toward her.

"Dinner smells good," she says, a little breathless.

Ben doesn't say anything in response, he just takes another step, closing the distance between him. Rey glances up at him, her body tense as she takes a small step back.

Ben reaches out for her, his hand settling against her lower back, gently urging her to come closer to him.

"Ben," she breathes, stepping forward, her hand hovering over his bicep for a second before she commits and rests her hand against the sleeve of his shirt.

"It was the first night you stayed over," Ben says, brushing a stray piece of Rey's hair behind her ear. "It was… two, maybe three months before you moved in. You came over to study. We had dinner first and then you demanded that we watch a movie before we started studying. Something about how our brains needed a break and we'd be better off waiting for a few hours to get started on our all nighter."

Ben smiles, mostly for himself, remembering how cute she had been arguing with him.

"We didn't study," Ben continues, running a finger down her cheek. "You fell asleep twenty minutes into the movie. You looked so peaceful and beautiful and I just… all I could think was about how all I wanted in life was to share it with you. Because I was in love with you."

Rey's expression is soft and a little bewildered as he continues. She turns her head slightly, her lips quickly pressing against his thumb.

"I've been in love with you this entire time. I'm sorry I was too scared to tell you. I was nervous… I am nervous that I'm going to ruin this. I love you and I know, Rey, I know that nothing is ever going to change that. I'm going to love you forever. I can feel it in my bones. Be with me? I know it's scary--"

Rey pulls at Ben's shirt until he bends down and she cuts off his sentence by kissing him. Ben sighs against her lips, his eyes closing as he places her free hand on her hips. She deepens the kiss, her tongue running across his, her fingers burying themselves in his hair.

The way Rey feels pressed against him, the pressure of her mouth on his, it's better than he could have imagined.

It's over too soon, Rey breaks the kiss, a large smile spreading across her face. Ben's grin is just as large and toothy. He stares at her for a second, trying to memorize the way she looks in that moment to his brain. Then he pulls her into his chest and kisses her hair.

"I love you too," Rey says after a moment. "And I agree that it is scary. But I want to be with you. It's worth it."

***

Ben's kisses are something Rey could get addicted to. He kisses with his whole body, the way he angles in his legs to brush against hers, the pressure of his thumb pressing into her hip, his fingernails lightly scratching down her spine. And his lips.

God his lips.

She had been right about his lips. They were absolutely made for kissing.

He left kisses all over her face, her cheek, her jaw, just above her eyebrow. Rey tugged at the bottom of his shirt with one hand, the other quickly moving to run along the exposed skin of his stomach.

He is so warm and solid underneath her hand.

Ben pulls away just long enough to pull his shirt off. Rey spends a few seconds taking in the sight of him shirtless, his eyes darker than she has ever seen them as he watches her watch him.

"You're so gorgeous," she says because she can. Then she moves to pull her own shirt off.

The black bra, which was mostly see through mesh, that she had picked out that morning appears to have been a good choice, judging by the way Ben swallows at the sight, his eyes slowly moving down her body.

He places one hand over her right breast, gently squeezing before taking her nipple and rolling it in between his fingers.

Rey moans, pushing herself forward into his hand, desperate for more friction. he repeats the actions on her left breast and Rey can't control the needy sounds falling from her lips.

Ben pulls away then, dropping his hands to her waist as he takes a step back to put distance between them.

Rey whines, instinctively following after him.

"The food is going to be cold if we don't stop," he explains, nodding at the pasta that's on the counter.

Rey shakes her head, lifting up on her toes to kiss him again.

"Ben," she says, her fingers digging into his shoulder as she tries to find her balance. "I don't give a fuck about the food."

***

Ben groans at Rey's words, helpless to pull away when she's saying things like that and smiling against his lips.

He kisses her, while moving them until her back is pressed against the wall. His fingers making quick work of the button on her jeans.

This is going too fast. He knows that he should stop, that they should eat and he should ask her to go on an actual date, or to be his girlfriend, or fuck, his wife, whatever she wants.

But he can't stop kissing her. And judging by the way she's trying to undo his belt, she doesn't want to stop either. It's hard to argue against the side of his brain begging him to give into the pleasure and to take her into his room when she's pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to run her fingers down his cock.

"Rey, look at me," he begs, his hand grips the corner of the wall as he fails to stop his hips from pushing forward. The way Rey's hands feel wrapped around him, moving at a slow and steady pace as she raises her eyes to his face. Her hand picks up speed, and her eyes slightly narrow in concentration, like she's trying to decipher every twitch of his face so she can make him do it again is too much.

"Yeah, Ben?" Rey says as an answer, her eyes not leaving his. She looks like the picture of innocence as she holds his gaze, her eyes full of love, her cheeks slightly pink, and her lips turned up in a smile.

It's difficult to believe that she can keep that expression on her face while giving him the best hand job of his life.

"We should, uh, we should talk," he manages to get out, his grip on the wall tightening. "About all of this and what it means. I don't want… we don't have to rush into anything. We have time."

Rey's hand stops moving and if Ben was capable of holding on to more than a few of his brain cells he would have been embarrassed at the way he kept moving his hips long after she stopped.

She holds his chin in her other hand, tilting his head down so she can look directly into his eyes before she leans up. The kiss is chaste and short, it leaves Ben wanting more.

"I don't want to talk," she says, moving her hand down his length again. "I don't want to wait either Ben," he shudders at the combination of her words and the way she twists her hand around the head of his penis. "I just want you."

***

Ben doesn't say anything, he tilts his head and looks at Rey like he's trying to decide what he did to deserve her and what he wants to do next. He's all action once he's made up his mind.

He places his hand on top of Rey's, and Rey pumps him faster, feeling emboldened by the feel of Ben's hands on hers. He moves her hand away off of him, pinning it above her head and against the wall.

"Ben," Rey sighs, half heartedly fighting against his hold, "I wasn't done--"

Rey stops talking while she watches Ben push down his pants to the floor. He picks her up and Rey wraps her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist.

Heat pools in her stomach when he starts to walk them towards his room. His mouth is on her again. Ben's room is only about 30 steps away from the kitchen, but it seems to take forever before Ben finally makes it to his door.

Ben holds her against the door, carefully shifting her in his arms so that he can move one hand from her to open the door. Rey uses that as an opportunity to suck at the skin just below his jaw. The arm wrapped around her tightens and Rey can hear Ben's sharp intake of breath once she's moved her lips away.

So she does it again to the skin below his ear, just to see if she gets the same reaction from him.

Ben carefully sets her down on his bed. He settles his knees on either side of her and bends down to kiss her. His mouth is hot and desperate against hers as he unclasps her bra. Rey leans back on the bed and helps him slide the straps down her arms.

Rey lifts her hips up so Ben can remove her underwear and jeans. She runs her fingers along the edge of his hip bone.

"You're beautiful," Ben says, his voice lower than Rey has heard it before. He drags his thumb along the curve of her breast and across her nipple. "You're so beautiful Rey--" his fingers trail down along her waist and stomach until he barely grazes her clit with the pad of his finger.

But it's enough to send small tendrils of pleasure throughout her body. He moves lower, running a finger through the wetness at her opening. She nods at the questioning look he gives her.

He pushes a finger inside of her, curling it up as he sets a slow, leisurely pace with his movements. Rey moans, trying to urge him on to go faster.

"Ben, please," Rey begs, though she isn't quite sure what she's asking him to do. "I need more."

Ben drops to his knees, hooking Rey's legs over his shoulder. He adds another finger, picking up speed while he places wet kisses on her thighs and hip bone. His nose brushes against her clit when he moves his head to pay attention to the other side of her body.

Rey whines, lifting her hips to try to find something to give her friction where she needs it most. Ben grins into her thigh.

"You're a tease," Rey huffs. "An absolute damn tease and I need--"

"I know what you need," Ben whispers, his breath hot on her center and then he finally, finally lowers his mouth to her clit.

Rey's brain ceases to function when he sucks and pleasure washes over her body. She lifts her hips up and she's only slightly annoyed when Ben's hand pushes her back down to the bed.

Ben works her up easily. He isn't shy about trying different things, and the way he manages to work his tongue with his fingers and his mouth is magic.

Rey threads her fingers in his hair, she tugs on the strands as he brings her closer and closer to the edge.

"Ben," Rey whimpers, her back arching. She's fairly confident the grip she has on his hair is actually painful, but she can't bring herself to let go and Ben doesn't seem to mind. At least, it isn't stopping him from devouring her.

She doesn't want to come yet. She wants to stay in this moment forever. She needs it to last longer so she can commit the way her nerves are buzzing with pleasure and her heart is swelling with love and comfort to her memory.

Ben sucks harder. The hand on her stomach moves up and he is pinching her nipple and she comes.

He works her through her orgasm. His mouth and tongue slowing their movements against her clit until she swats at his head.

"Too sensitive," she mutters, her eyes still closed. He laughs against her skin, resting his chin just above her pubic bone.

Rey leans up, pressing her elbows into the mattress. "Hi," she says, grinning down at him.

"Hi." Ben sounds a little breathless, but he matches her smile and presses a kiss against her skin.

His hair is a mess and Rey's stomach swoops with the knowledge that she did that. She's the reason this gorgeous man was out of breath and his usually perfectly tousled hair was all out of place.

He moves up her body, running his tongue along her exposed skin until his head is hovering just over her own.

"I love you," he says. And if it were possible Rey knows that he would be able to see her heart beat out of her chest.

His face is so open and honest it surprises Rey. Because she knows that he said he loved her earlier, but there's still a part of her that isn't sure that he can mean it.

But then he looks at her with such adoration in his eyes and she's not sure how she could doubt him.

"I love you too," she says, beaming up at him as he closes the distance between them.

She can taste herself on his lips, but she isn't complaining as he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss.

"Condom?" she asks, breaking the kiss before placing smaller kisses along his jaw.

He nods, moving off of her and moving to the other edge of the bed. He opens the top drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a condom. Rey just watches as he tears open the wrapper, pinches the tip of the condom and rolls it down his length.

"Come here," he says and Rey rolls over and makes her way to Ben. She settles herself over him, resting her hands on his shoulders and sinks down on him.

Ben let's her set the pace, but he meets her thrust for thrust and it makes Rey clench against him. He feels so good inside of her, and then he uses his hands, dragging them down on her spine, across her chest, down her stomach until he reaches her clit and he presses down and Rey starts to see stars. Her movements above him stutter and she knows she isn't going to last long if he keeps that up.

"That's it," he says, "Are you going to come for me?" He puts more pressure on his finger, drawing small circles on her clit.

Rey sighs his name, squeezing her nails into his shoulder. He's taken over, controlling the speed of her thrusts as she just let's him, too lost in the pleasure pulsing through her veins.

"Ben," she groans when his mouth wraps around her nipple, his teeth sharp against her skin.

She comes when he bites down, her vision blurring. He keeps fucking into her chasing his own orgasm.

He comes silently, his breath hot on her neck. Rey catches her breath, enjoying the way Ben can't keep his hands still. He runs his hands over her collarbone, a finger trailing across her jawline, another down her spine.

She rolls off of him once she feels like she can take a full breath without immediately trying to suck in another. He moves around, removing the condom and tossing it into a trash can near his bed.

Rey is glad to discover that her head does fit into the crook of his neck just like she imagined. She tastes the salt on his skin when she leaves an opened mouth kiss to his shoulder. She wraps her arm around his chest and curls herself around him.

"So, you read the emails then?" Rey asks with a small laugh.

Ben kisses her head. "I read three of them, yeah."

"Just three?"

Ben sighs, his fingers continuing to run across her body as if he can't get enough of her skin. "I felt bad. Reading through emails you didn't send me, it felt like I was invading your privacy."

"I'm glad you did," Rey admits, pulling him closer to her. "Otherwise we might not be here."

Ben hums, his chest vibrating underneath her hand. "You have a point."

"Which ones did you read?"

"Um," Ben hesitates. Rey can feel his heartbeat pick up pace. "A recent one about me working out? And then the one on my birthday and the first one."

"Those were good ones," Rey laughs. "You could have read the other ones."

"You could send them to me." Ben drags his fingers through her hair. "I don't want you to hide from me anymore."

"Maybe I will," Rey teases. "Now that I know you might feel the same way about me."

"I do feel the same way," Ben amends her words. "I'm crazy about you. I've been crazy about you."

"But will you be tomorrow?" Rey asks, hating how needy her voice sounds to her own ears. "And the next day?"

"Always," Ben answers. There's no hesitancy to his answer.

"Always is a long time," Reys says, kissing his neck. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I never do," Ben promises. "I'm always going to love you."

"Me too," Rey says, her voice heavy with sleep. "I'm always going to love you."

"Maybe tomorrow we can read the rest of them together?" Ben asks.

"Yeah," Rey smiles. "We can do that."

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo fanfiction #reylo fic #reylo au #my fic

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holly-mckenzie · 3 years

Note

Heyy! I'm back to shout in your askbox.

Any theories about the MA cliffhanger? Was there such a plot in the french version?

Would love to hear your thoughts if you watched the episode cause love reading whatever you write! Thankyou and take care ♡

(spoiler filled ask, if you didn't watch MA don't read!!!!)

dude....i am at the edge of my seat with MA omg i did not expect the show to take this turn and i think this isn't based on the original considering barış's character isn't the same? but i looooove the suspense and loved everything else about this episode like dicbar? dicle being an agent? beren seemingly growing up finally? the suspense about what serkan's hiding? THE ATTEMPTED MURDERER/STALKER?????? i saw one theory that the guy is going to go to dicle and be like break up with barış or i'll ruin your life with these pics and although i wanna say that won't happen bc 1 that's very cliche like do they haaaaave to break up bc of dicle having to hide something like every other dizi and 2 bc i mean the guy tried to kill him idk why he'd go through dicle now but at the same time kinda seems likely😐

anyhow long story short i love MA sm this episode was top notch what'd you think

hello anons,

I did watch the episode and I’ve decided to answer you guys together as to not repeat myself.

I would first like to start by saying, there is no such plot in dix pour cent.

So here are my thoughts on the episode. I really did love the DicBar content or at least some of it. I loved how cute and flirty they are with each other. I loved that Dicle was able to see through his bs and that Bro was constantly calling him out on it... They have such a fun relationship and I love it.

In regards to the attempted murder/stalker plot... I’m sorry guys I didn’t really like it. Don’t get me wrong it’s so much better than all of the relationship drama that happened in episode 8-11... But I’m still not interested in the stalker plot. It really changes to the tone of the show, which I am not a huge fan of. But I guess that the new season of Dix Pour Cent does drop this week... so there’s that.

I’m confused about everyone’s reaction to the stalker

On one hand, I loved Barış this episode because he’s so funny and such a dork. I also love the flirtation and banter between them. Him playing with her hair + her hands will always get me.

LOOK AT THIS DORK:

But I also hated that he wasn’t following the medical advice + his nonchalance to the injury. I don’t understand why no one is taking Barış’s injury seriously. If the show really wants me to believe that he is a famous actor... then why is no one pressing charges?

Maybe it’s because my roommate is a nurse, but I feel like there should have he should have been in so much pain. Like when Dicle wakes him up he’s literally lying on his injured arm, which could have 1) been painful 2) could have open the stit. Also, he’s being quite reckless by not listening to any of the advice that people are giving to him. And I feel like someone should be pushing for him to be taken care of since he’s so famous.

On a completely different subject, I don’t know if you follow me on Twitter, but I once mentioned that both Baris and Beren waste food. And if he threw away the kebabs and pizzas that were brought I am seriously side-eyeing him. Like Barış Bey, people are literally dying because they don’t have food... why you being so wasteful.

Now on to Beren. Okay. So I have mixed feels about Beren and they are completely tied to my mixed feels about Kıraç. As both of you know, I don’t have any empathy for him at all.

Me about Kıraç always:

So the resolution of the Mayda-Kıraç-Beren drama is really lacking because we again see Beren not being held accountable for her part in everything and again Mayda being hurt because of it. Like yes, I do think it’s important to reassure Beren that Kıraç still loves her and won’t abandon her.

But ultimately the Beren running away issue is really not about Beren and Kıraç. It’s about Mayda. She is the victim of their lies. She is the one that demanded answers and THAT’S what caused Beren to run away.

So to have the resolution of the scene be about Kıraç consoling Beren is... stupid and completely beside the point. Beren is not the victim at this moment.

I would have loved if we instead got a scene where Mayda and Beren really talk through everything. They could discuss the divorce and how it’s due to Kıraç lying to her and how Dicle and Beren also lied. This could have been followed by Beren being like: “We... I did it because I love you. I didn’t tell you... I tried to get Dicle fired to keep the family togather” And Mayda could have been like, “Beren that’s not love... that’s being selfish. Part of being mature and part of loving someone is being honest and accountable for your mistakes.”

Then they could have also followed that by having Mayda remind Beren that even though she is upset at Beren, she still loves her and though Kıraç and Mayda are getting a divorce, Mayda won’t abandon Beren.

That would have had been so much more of an engaging conclusion to that whole drama. It could have also offered such an interesting point of character growth for Beren when she gets fired from her Dizi. Ultimately, the way that MA deals with Beren getting fired also has her not being held accountable for her decisions. Like, yes, she is apparently sorry and realises her mistakes. But she doesn’t attempt to face the consequences of it, and Kıraç again offers to fix everything for her.

Instead, if you had the same scene of Beren being fired and but this time she decides to be accountable for her decisions because Beren has done stuff like this before... she has caused production to stop. If she accepted the consequences of her actions and seen better character growth. It would have set up an interesting connection to Dicle because Kıraç is always fixing Beren mistakes. So to have Beren be like no dad. I messed up, I can’t rely on you to fix everything for me, would have just been better.

In regards to theories sorry y’all... I don’t really have any. I will say though that if it comes to blackmail, I don’t think it will be Dicle that is blackmailed but Barış. Like maybe the stalker will threaten Dicle’s life and Barış will be forced to do stuff.

The last thing I will say is the fact that as usual, they did Bro and Meral dirty. They had Bro and Meral in the same episode and decided not to have them interact? This is a personal attack against me.

You know what would have been funny? If Meral came with Dicle to Barış’s house, and it's very clear that Barış wants alone time with Dicle. And everyone knows this... so Bro is like... Oh Meral, we should go... do that thing. Then THEY go on a date!

It was a personal attack guys! Especially because Bro looked so good!

#asks #anon #menajerimi ara

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enbyleighlines · 4 years

Note

Thank you for your stories. I would like read about: wn & lwj - jeaulosy, yanli & lwj - friendship, jc & nhs - flowers. Again thank you for sharing those small ficlet.

You’re welcome! And thank you, anonymous friend, for all the requests. I’m going to be splitting this up into three separate posts, because I want to fill all of them.

Without further ado: Lan Wangji & Wen Ning: Jealousy

—

Lan Wangji has a bad feeling. He’s sitting at one of the window booths at a locally owned coffee shop. Wen Ning texted him last week, and asked to meet up.

This is unusual, to put it lightly. Despite having an overlapping friend group, Lan Wangji and Wen Ning rarely interact one on one. In fact, Wen Ning tends to actively avoid Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji doesn’t have to wonder why Wen Ning avoids him like the plague. For years, Lan Wangji has been cold to Wen Ning, if not outright hostile. So Lan Wangji does not blame Wen Ning for wanting to stay out of his hair. On the contrary, that’s exactly what Lan Wangji had wanted, once upon a time.

The thing is, Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian are best friends. And Lan Wangji has envied that, ever since high school.

Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning’s friendship began in Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s second year of high school. Lan Wangji was still deep in denial about his feelings, rejecting all of Wei Wuxian’s desperate attempts to befriend him.

Wen Ning was a freshman, a year behind them, and new to the school. Quiet and baby-faced, he drew bullies to him like moths to a flame. After Wei Wuxian stood up for him the first time, making a grand scene in the cafeteria, the two became inseparable. Suddenly, all the teasing usually directed at Lan Wangji went to Wen Ning instead.

It was unfair for Lan Wangji to feel cheated. After all, he had been trying to get Wei Wuxian off his back for over a year. He was like a dog, selfishly coveting a toy he had once ignored. But envy has always been the hardest sin for Lan Wangji to ditch.

His jealousy only intensified with time. Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian went to the same college. They became roommates. They even went into business together.

It was petty, true, to resent Wen Ning merely for receiving the attention that Lan Wangji was too cowardly to admit that he wanted. But it was hard not to feel the burn of acid in his throat, whenever he saw the way Wen Ning tucked himself under Wei Wuxian’s arm, hanging off his side like a bur.

Of course, Wei Wuxian had many friends. It was the way that Wen Ning looked at Wei Wuxian that bothered Lan Wangji the most. Adoring, like Wei Wuxian was the center of the universe. It was like looking into a mirror. Lan Wangji would catch a glimpse of Wen Ning’s shimmering, lovestruck moon eyes, and see his own crush reflected back at him.

Except, for all his cowardice, Wen Ning was not afraid to let himself get close to Wei Wuxian.

But that was then. This is now.

Now Lan Wangji is twenty-six years old. Wei Wuxian is his boyfriend. They live together. They’re raising a child together.

Jealousy should be a thing of the past.

And yet.

Lan Wangji takes a sip of his hot green tea and waits.

He doesn’t wait too much longer. Wen Ning jogs up to the cafe, waving to Lan Wangji through the window before heading inside.

Lan Wangji bites back a scowl. Once, he could reassure himself with the thought that their crushes were equally doomed. After all, Wei Wuxian wasn’t interested in men. Neither of them stood a chance.

Obviously, now Lan Wangji knows that isn’t the case.

Wen Ning orders something at the counter and then comes to join Lan Wangji. He’s holding a cup of some sugary caffeinated concoction with whipped cream on top. It looks like the type of thing Wei Wuxian would like. Wen Ning sits, not so subtly avoiding eye contact.

“Hey,” Wen Ning says.

“Hey.” Lan Wangji doesn’t grant him more than that. The bad feeling in his gut begins to grow.

“How... are you?” Wen Ning asks.

Lan Wangji narrows his eyes. He does not appreciate all this tip-toeing around whatever Wen Ning wishes to say. So he answers, “I’m confused. Why did you ask me to meet you?”

“Ah,” Wen Ning sighs. He finally meets Lan Wangji’s gaze. “Right. Well, I wanted to discuss something with you.”

“Then discuss.”

Wen Ning winces. “This isn’t easy for me to explain,” he says, “I’d appreciate it if you’d hear me out.”

Lan Wangji feels a bit bad for being so aggressive. So he mutely nods.

“I don’t know if you already know this about me or not,” Wen Ning begins, “but I’m asexual. Aromantic, too, most likely.”

Lan Wangji blinks. He was not aware of that. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with this new information. Should Lan Wangji congratulate him on coming out? Or would that seem patronizing?

Thankfully, Wen Ning doesn’t seem to be waiting for a response. “I bring this up,” he continues, “because I feel— I think— Correct me if I’m wrong, but I always got the sense that you thought I was in love with Wei Wuxian?”

Wen Ning isn’t wrong, so Lan Wangji doesn’t correct him.

Wen Ning nods at Lan Wangji’s silence. “That’s what I thought,” he says, “So I want you to know that, however I feel about Wei Wuxian, it’s not romantic.”

Shame burns in Lan Wangji’s chest. Here he was, wasting his time being jealous of a man who was never even interested in Wei Wuxian. He wants to apologize, but he doesn’t know how to do so in a way that won’t make him sound petty.

“To be fair,” Wen Ning goes on, “I used to think it was a romantic crush myself. And I do love him, in a platonic way.”

Lan Wangji can do nothing but nod.

“That said,” Wen Ning says, “The main reason I’m here, is because I wanted to be completely honest with you.” He pauses, and his eyes dart to the side. “Do you know anything about queerplatonic relationships?”

Lan Wangji does not. He thinks he might have heard the term before, but that’s the extent of his knowledge. “No.”

“Well, they’re kind of what they say on the tin,” Wen Ning explains, in a nervous twitter, “They’re like platonic relationships, but a little different.”

That doesn’t clarify anything. Lan Wangji blinks. “What?”

“Ah, I’m not that good at explaining the concept,” Wen Ning says, “They’re kind of like a third option, for people who are aro/ace, and who want to be in a romantic relationship without the romance.”

Lan Wangji is trying to understand. He truly is. But he is still confused.

Wen Ning sighs. “Here’s how I think of it... it’s got the structure of a romantic relationship, but with the content of a platonic relationship. It’s a way for us to experience the companionship of a life partner without all the romance stuff.”

“Friendship?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wen Ning’s shoulders slump. “It’s like that, but more... structured. I’m sorry, that’s the only way I can describe it. Anyway, I’m trying to explain this because... I want to be in a queerplatonic relationship with Wei Wuxian!”

The rancid taste of vinegar rises in Lan Wangji’s throat. He tries his best to swallow it back down. He’s twenty-six. He can be an adult about this.

“I know it probably sounds weird to you,” Wen Ning starts to babble, “I don’t fully understand it myself. All I know is that I read a book about queerplatonic relationships and now I can’t stop thinking about asking Wei Wuxian to be in one with me!”

Lan Wangji feels the smallest tug of pity in his heart. “If you were in a queerplatonic relationship with Wei Ying,” he says to Wen Ning, “Would you... go on dates?”

Wen Ning flushes and fidgets. “Ah, maybe,” he answers.

“Kiss?”

Wen Ning goes pale at that. He shakes his head quickly. “Oh, no,” he says, “I’ve tried kissing someone before. It wasn’t for me. No offense, but... I don’t understand the appeal of kissing someone.”

Some of the acid in Lan Wangji’s larynx begins to subside. “Then no sex, either?” He guesses.

“Nope! Definitely none of that!”

“Holding hands?”

“Ahh... hopefully, yes.”

“Cuddling?”

Wen Ning squirms, but his small smile betrays him. “If he wants to...”

Lan Wangji stops his interrogation. “So far,” he says, “it does not sound like anything would change between you two.”

It’s true. Wei Wuxian has always been a tactile friend. He has had no qualms about hugging and cuddling with his friends in the past.

“That... might be the case,” Wen Ning admits, “It’s not that I want to do anything new with him. I just want... the label, I guess. I want to tell people that he’s my partner. And that I’m his.”

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow. The way Wen Ning said that, it almost sounded... possessive.

“I know this is a lot,” Wen Ning says, “but I needed to tell somebody.”

Lan Wangji wants to leave this conversation. Even if what Wen Ning feels for Wei Wuxian isn’t romantic, it’s still... Well, Lan Wangji doesn’t know how to put it into words. And neither does Wen Ning, apparently.

The two men sit in silence for a moment. It’s clear to both of them that they keep misunderstanding each other, but neither knows how to fix that.

“I think... I’m just jealous,” Wen Ning speaks up, unexpectedly, “Everyone around me seems to be in a serious relationship right now. It’s like everyone is paired up, and I’m the eternal third wheel. And maybe I shouldn’t be complaining. I mean, I don’t experience romantic attraction, so it makes sense that I’m single. And there isn’t anything wrong with being single. But when I think about being single for the rest of my life... I feel lonely. Ever since Wei Wuxian moved in with you, I’ve felt...” Wen Ning trails off, and bites his lip, as if to keep himself from finishing the sentence.

“Ah.” Now Lan Wangji understands. It’s like a ray of sunshine piercing through a break in the clouds. He remembers how he felt, learning that Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning had rented an apartment together: Jealous. Lonely. Abandoned. “You miss him.”

“It’s stupid,” Wen Ning says, speaking with his eyes scrunched up, “We still hang out all the time. But I miss living with him. I miss eating our meals together, and I miss running errands together...”

Lan Wangji watches Wen Ning, and feels true empathy blossom within him. “It’s not stupid,” he argues, “Wei Ying... has a loud presence. He is easy to miss.”

Wen Ning’s eyes fly open. “Yes, you’re exactly right! The apartment feels so quiet now. It feels empty.”

Lan Wangji nods. Now they are speaking the same language. Though the flavor of their love for Wei Wuxian is different, the essence is the same. Wen Ning’s love is not the same as Lan Wangji’s love, nor is it the same as Jiang Yanli’s familial love for Wei Wuxian. But all of them feel the same depth of emotion.

“Give me time,” Lan Wangji says, “I need to... research queerplatonic relationships. But I will not stop you, should you bring it up with Wei Ying.”

Wen Ning’s eyes widen. “You’re— you’re serious? You think I should tell him?”

“Wei Ying would want to know,” Lan Wangji tells him. That much he can guarantee. “I don’t know if he will agree to be your queerplatonic partner. I don’t know what that would look like. But you may ask. I will respect whatever decision he makes.”

Wen Ning looks speechless with shock. To be fair, Lan Wangji has surprised himself, too.

“Thank you,” Wen Ning finally says.

Lan Wangji simply nods.

Both of them fall silent once more. The space between them is a little less tense, though. For the first time, Wen Ning and Lan Wangji are able to enjoy a comfortable silence together.

#asks #anon #anonymous #mo dao zu shi #drabbles #mdzs modern au #leigh’s writing #wangxian #ningxian

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prorevenge · 5 years

Text

But I Don’t Even Have a Contract!

When I was 16, I had a stint as a small-time social media star on Twitter — not because I’m particularly interesting or anything, but for two reasons: a) I got on Twitter really early in 2007 when it was way easier to get followers and engagement due to the site being less noisy and more ‘stupid’ in terms of algorithms and b) I stood out from a lot of other minor Twitter stars because I didn’t let it get to my head; while a lot of them were egotistical and haughty, I followed everyone back, turned ‘haters’ into friends instead of retaliating, etc.

Through this fleeting fame, my former boss found me. He said he was setting up a regional media studio to help small- and medium-sized local businesses with their social media marketing, and he planned to eventually franchise the business into other cities. He hired me on the basis of my large social following (81,000 followers at the time). Obviously, having a large social following doesn’t automatically mean you know how to market businesses on social media, but I adapted and studiously researched how to do my job properly.

My boss didn’t come from a creative background or a marketing role — he came from a property background, and was just sort of winging it in finding an alternative source of income after the housing crash. Being as young as I was at the time, I didn’t really think about any of this stuff. The outcome was that I never received any training, had no real guidance in what I was doing, and was generally left to my own devices. Younger me thought it was great! I saw it as ‘freedom’, but looking back, I realize it was far too much freedom.

The side effects of this disparity between my social media skills and his inability to communicate creative ideas manifested themselves as people trying to cut past the business and come straight to me, asking me directly as an individual whether I’d do work for them rather than give my boss the money. I was respectful (or naïve) enough to open up to my boss about this, and that’s when things started getting a little bit manipulative. He told me I could go my own way or remain part of a business that’d soon be growing across the country.

Fair enough, I thought. So I stayed, and one year in (I was 17/18 at this time) I realized that managing brands via social media had naturally morphed me into something of a graphic designer. A lot of my time was spent creating eye-catching visuals in Photoshop, Illustrator, InDesign etc. and so I suggested to my boss that we expand our media offering to include logo, graphic, and print design, and visual branding consultancy. Again, I received no training — I worked all day and self-studied late into the night.

This pattern snowballed over the years. By the time I was 21, I was a social media manager, visual branding designer, copywriter, photographer, video editor, and web developer — all skills I developed independently with no input or guidance from my boss. The business was still operating in just one city, and my boss had started spending less and less time in the office. I still didn’t realize this wasn’t particularly normal, until clients who came to the office to meet me constantly asked where he was.

One day, a client went as far as to say: “You’re basically running the business at this point!” It was a huge ‘glass shatter’ moment for me, and I suddenly realized that, yeah, although I wasn’t actually managing the business and its admin work etc., without me, there wouldn’t be a service or product to sell. What’s more, my wages hadn’t gone up, even though my ‘this is great, I have so much freedom!’ mind-set had motivated me to continue working on stuff related to the business when I got home.

As I was nearing 22, the owner of the building where the business’ office was located asked me if I’d help him fix his computer (it was just running really slowly because he hadn’t managed his files very well). Not really thinking of it as work, I agreed, and headed into his office after work to help him out. As luck would have it, my boss walked in to hand over that month‘s rent, so he saw me there. He looked surprised, but didn’t comment — he just gave the dude the rent and left the building.

The next day, my boss wasted no time in probing me about what I was doing. He was speaking to me like a cop would speak to a suspect, asking me how long I’d been doing work for the landlord, what kind of work I was doing, why I hadn’t folded the work into the business, etc. I explained I was just fixing up his computer, and he leapt into a lecture about how we needed to keep all work inside the business, or else we would never be able to grow into other cities.

I turned 22. I’d been there for five years, my wages hadn’t gone up, I wasn’t allowed to do any work outside of the business, I hadn’t witnessed any of the growth I’d initially been promised, my boss was only in the office 25% of the time, and I saw him uploading Instagram Stories from him lunching, working out at the gym, walking his dogs, taking day trips etc. while I was in the office managing everything. A lot of the time he didn’t even warn me he’d not be in the office. It became the norm that if he didn’t turn up, I’d be running everything for the day. Because I’d grown with the business from my youngest working age, I didn’t know any different, so all of this felt completely normal to me. And because I worked all day and all night and had no firm social life, I never got any outside perspective, until one day, on a whim, I opened up to the landlord about it. He hadn’t even realized I was the one doing all the work — he figured it was split fairly 50/50. He said the amount of work I was producing was on the same level as an agency with three or four employees.

I started managing all of the branding, social media, and website maintenance for the landlord’s business, but didn’t broadcast that news to anyone. As I was nearing the age of 23, I met my now-fiancée, a perfectly feisty woman who, as soon as I told her about my situation, passionately advised I start my own media studio. This is where I entered the ‘long breakup’ period of my job, where I got increasingly depressed at work and physically felt my productivity slow to a near-halt. My boss noticed, but never talked to me about it face-to-face. He started sending me irritated emails full of swear words demanding explanations for why I hadn’t delivered certain work by certain times and dates, while he was off sunning at the beach. It was like someone had pulled out his cork and let all the toxicity out in one torrent. My girlfriend hated him, and gently pushed me to the point where I felt like I was ready to confront him about the dead end we’d wound up in.

I asked a few of my friends about it, just to get a wider set of viewpoints on how I should go about it. They asked me things like, what does your contact say about you leaving the company and working with other businesses independently? Legal stuff, y’know. And that’s when I realized my lack of training over the past six years had also left me ignorant of the formalities of employment — I never had a contract! The real kicker was, I never had employee liability coverage either. My boss wasn’t even doing the admin stuff properly.

Obviously, that meant he also had no control over me when it came to contracts, so I literally just walked in (without my laptop — I’m now just realizing he never provided equipment either, yikes) and sat there waiting for him to arrive. Thankfully, it was one of the days he decided to turn up. He went and sat down in his chair, asked me where my laptop was and why I wasn’t working etc., and so I just straight-up told him that I was leaving the company to start my own media venture.

He laughed a patronizing laugh and simply said, “Alright, good luck then.” Part of me felt like this was normal, because he was usually quite cold like that, but another part of me knew that there should have been some sort of emotion and deeper discussion in that moment. I wanted to say, “so that’s it, then?” to try to flesh the talk out, but that really was it. He just turned to his computer and began typing away as if I wasn‘t there. So I just turned around and left, went home, and that was it.

He did WhatsApp me a message later that day (all his caring and considerate communication came through digital means — perhaps he hired someone on a zero-hour contract to inject emotion into his texts?) asking if we could meet at the pub for a proper goodbye. And we did. It was a nice gesture, but it felt very awkward and forced, as if he’d spoken to someone about it and they’d coaxed him into doing it. He shook my hand, wished me good luck (much more genuinely this time), and we parted ways.

Three months later, I’d tripled my income as a freelancer. All of those clients who’d try to come to me directly over the years — it was like a floodgate had opened, and they all came rushing to me. I hadn’t told them I’d left, but obviously, they realized it themselves when they went to the office and I was never there. I felt bad about ‘stealing’ clients away from my former boss, but what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just abandon the people I’d been working with just because of morals. That‘d be immoral, if anything. I continued working with the landlord and even travelled with him a few times to build my solo filmmaking portfolio by documenting his brand’s work across the UK, including his talks at business seminars. We developed a very close working relationship, to the point where just my work for his company was earning me more than all the work I did for my former boss. He started sharing a few bits of gossip with me about how my old boss had begun paying rent later and later. I figure perhaps his cash flow had something to do with it, but the landlord also showed me an email my old boss had written in which he’d expressed his anger at the landlord for ‘colluding’ with me and pushing me to leave his company.

The further I distanced myself from the company, the more I realized how toxic he behaved towards everyone he came into contact with. I could never see it from the inside. Every time I checked the old company’s website, a new service had been removed, because it wasn’t something he could offer anyone anymore.

Back in November 2018, the landlord told me that he was kicking my old boss out of the office after he failed to pay rent for three months. A few weeks after that, the landlord proposed that we go into business together to create a separate media studio solely focused on the industry his business operates within. He said that we’d take the old company’s office once my former boss had moved out, and that I could also use that office for my own freelance venture, free of charge.

One year after leaving, I’ve taken 25% of my old boss’ clients, occupied his office, and quadrupled my income.

There’s a part of me that feels guilty about all of this — he’s a guy who didn’t quite know what to do after the housing market crashed and tried something out which didn’t go too well. But at the same time, I can’t feel too bad for someone who I believe took advantage of me for half a decade. If you treat someone with disrespect, you end up with very little. If you treat someone with respect, they give you a free office and offer to start a new business with you.

TL;DR: Boss never did anything properly — no training, no contracts, no insurance, very little respect, not much guidance, empty promises about business growth, etc. Everything I learned independently resulted in me quadrupling my income and taking over his office within a year of leaving his company.

(source) story by (/u/Adingding90)

#prorevenge #by /u/Adingding90 #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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iamatpeacewitheveryone · 5 years

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How I became obsessed over the Fab 5

Yass Queen I often heard that phrase on social media Particularly on twitter. I thought that this phrase is a new slang for millennial and gen-z that I just haven’t caught on yet (as most of the slang terms of early 2010s).

Jonathan Van Ness this is the guy that may or may not have started the popular phrase “yass queen” but he sure does use it a lot. When I first saw him randomly on a thumbnail of my recommended youtube video I described his appearance as “gay lord” ( I wanna use “Jesus” but in my opinion that’s disrespectful to my religion). He often is featured on hollywood celebrity channels (which I didnt clicked on that time). I thought that he may be a new emerging star or an old celebrity that I didnt know (bluntly I just didnt care). For me, most starlets that enters hollywood are shallow empty-brain fake people that does a lot of stupid stuff to be relevant. I just didnt care about this gay lord that is making the media go gaga over him.

Big Mouth Im a huge fan of this show. I love cartoons!!! Im 25 year old btw and Idga fudge of what you think about that 🙄. The heart of a child in me just never died 🥳. When season 3 came out I was ecstatic! I finished the whole season in one day and I finished it again the next day and the next day after that. I love the humor. I love the educational information sorrounding teens undergoing puberty, sex ,relationships and gays! I mean Im 25 but Im behind all these things that I should have learned in my teenage years. You know why? Because my country put stigma around sex education thinking that it will encourage kids to have sex. well guess what? With or without sex-ed some kids will still have sex. Anyway in season 3 they included the Fab 5 and I immediately recognized gay lord. I then learned that he is part of a reality TV show and has four other gay guys with him. So after watching big mouth I went on youtube and searched “Queer Eye” and sure enough the fab 5 pop out. The first video that I watched was “Fab 5 takes a lie detector test” . I laughed at their animated quirkiness and after that I watched Queer Eye on netflix right away. Aah!

Queer eye I fell inlove with the first episode. I love how they transformed Tom ❤️ ( I didnt really approved with the styling. Sorry Tan). I love their kind approach to Tom and how they make as simple as going mattress shopping hilarious. I love their relationship. Immediately I fell inlove right away with Jonathan Van Ness’ personality! He is full of gay antics and he exudes so much femininity. He is more of a girl than a gay man. Usually I see gays as men who are feminine (or overly feminine) like James Charles and Jeffree Star. Jonathan is more masculine looking than most gays. He sports beards and does not wear makeup. But for me, he is literally a girl in a man’s body.

Gay + Reality Show I never really thought that I will one day be a fan of gay reality show. First, I never had any gay friends in my circle of friends. Gays and I are like oil and water, we dont blend. Im introverted, Im chill and laid back, and a little tomboyish. Gays most of the time are extroverted, flamboyant, rowdy, sassy, and overly dramatic. Im not saying all gays but most of the gays that I encountered. I like them. I like their existence. Dont get me wrong Im not homophobic. It’s just I like them at a distance. Their personality overwhelms me. So it comes as a surprise to me how I came to love the fab 5. And on a reality TV show? Guuurrlll dont even get me started how much I dislike reality shows especially from hollywood. I see such shows as fake, phony, cheesy, and doesn’t really have any substance in it . I don’t waste my time watching these pretentious shows. But Queer Eye changed that.

I love how the casting is diverse. At least, two out of five people are colored people. As an asian Im so proud of Tan, and happy that he is part of this. Im proud how they bravely shared their traumatic stories of how they we’re outed and abandoned by the people they considered family. How they courageously show their vulnerability. You go Queens!

Religion affected Bobby that he cant even go inside a church. Inspite of this, Bobby had learned slowly to let go of the baggages and make peace with his past. I pray that he will be completely free one day because I believe we can all heal. Bobby is an inspiration for the lost and abandoned. I cant imagine my family disowning me and being out their on my own at the age of 15. Look at him now a very successful interior designer. He gave me hope.

I love how Karamo fought despite of racism and homophobia, and went for the things that people denied him of. Imagine being in a room full of people making you feel unwelcomed? Im so proud of you Karamo. Im happy of all the things you have now.

I love how Jonathan fights the issues and rights that I also believed in. He uses his voice to put awareness over racism, sexism, homophobia, HIV, diversity and hatred (which are mostly Trump supporters. just kidding 😜).

I love how Antoni is passionate with food. I can listen to him talk about food all day. He is also sensitive to other people’s feelings. He is respectable towards other people and sympathetic. He is refined and cultured.

Obsession I became obsessed! The proof is that I started taking care of my self more. Im not lazy anymore with my beauty regimen. I updated my products. SERUM AND SUBSCREEN!!! I floss always now. They inspire me to look fabulous everyday even when Im at home.

I started following them on their individual instagram account. Search them on google, pinterest and tumblr. Dont forget twitter for daily updates. My youtube recommendations are all filled of Queer Eye’s casts. Help me! And if that’s not enough I bought their individual books (audiobooks).

I’ll be giving my review on their individual books next time. Im also learning to use podcast since Jonathan and Karamo has their own podcast channel. Can you believe?

#netflix #big mouth #queer eye #feminism #gay #Jonathan van ness

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monicalorandavis · 5 years

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I was an intern at Comedy Central and it mostly sucked

File this under the category of “Who Cares?”

Everybody knows interns (at basically every company) are treated like shit. They are used strictly for running errands and little else. It was likely that a TV network should follow suit. To no one’s surprise, Comedy Central treated interns like shit. I was. The interns around me were. I didn’t really think anything of it at the time. I had so little work experience and I was so grateful for the opportunity that I figured it was part of the process of getting to where you wanted to be. It wasn’t until I ran into Joe, an assistant (who had particularly made my life hell) at a party a few years later that I even thought about how mean he had been to me. I wanted to let it go. But he had been really fucking mean and it stung to think about. He wasn’t alone. It was actually a whole group of assistants who I’d felt had humiliated me. I remember going to lunch at the same time the assistants were leaving for lunch. They caught the elevator and I had asked to join, trailing just a step behind them. Joe barked “No”, closed the elevator doors in my face and I heard them all laughing at me on the way down. I stared at the closed doors, shocked. Never in my life had I been treated like such a loser. I was in a fucking teen movie being bullied by complete pricks. And the worst part was, these people were definitely the kids who’d been bullied.

I caught the next elevator and when I arrived on the ground level, they were waiting for me. They didn’t say anything. They looked guilty like they’d realized they’d been mean to an intern who would likely say something to someone in HR and decided to extend me the kindness of waiting for me. Only I didn’t want them to wait for me and I would never say anything. Unlike them, I didn’t like making people feel like shit. We walked to get salads in silence. They resumed their conversation but I paid and left before them. It was so weird after that. For like a day. And then, it started all over again.

There were exceptions during that time and I would like to name them and give them all their credit. Tony, one of the early writer/producers of Workaholics (a gig he got during my time there), was fabulously kind to me. He never made me feel lame or stupid and I was sad to see him go even though I knew writing was his goal. Walter was nice. Gary was nice. Seth. But I have forgotten many people’s names and you’ll forgive me as this was almost a decade ago. That time exists in a haze. I was living downtown with two of my girlfriends in a loft apartment that didn’t have walls. I had no bedroom. Just an upstairs “room” with a bathroom with a toilet but no shower. I paid $500 a month for a glorified port-a-potty and thus, acted like a degenerate. Every night, I either smoked weed until I fell asleep or scoured the streets for a cute boy to spend the night with. It was during that time that I was lucky enough to get an internship at a company that could change the course of my life - Comedy Central. It was a gift to work there and I knew it. I didn’t have any Hollywood connections.This was it. I would take it seriously, I promised myself. So, I did.

Comedy Central used to be the mecca. Before Tosh.0 and Jim Jefferies, it was the home of Chappelle’s Show. I am not exaggerating when I tell you this: that show changed the whole goddamn world and I was no exception. it changed me. It was the blueprint. Comedy could be brutal on white people. It could get real and gross and political and stupid all at the same time. Comedy nerds like me ate it up.

Dave Chappelle’s two season masterpiece of a show infected college campuses in 2004 when it was released on DVD. That was the year I started college. By happenstance, I was part of the DVD revolution. We would crowd into each other’s dorm rooms and cry laughing and then watch the same episode again. It caught fire. Dave Chappelle bridged the gap between black and white, famous and normal while still keeping himself removed from the whole thing, aloof - distinguished...better than us. His skewering of racism was a glass through which we could see in fact, we were all participants in the same system albeit on other sides.

So, Chappelle’s Show was important to me. I wanted to work at a place that had created art. I would try to shine there and let my own ideas blossom into projects.

But in spite of my eagerness, I was aware at the time (as we all were) that Comedy Central had paid Dave Chappelle $50 million for a third season but instead of delivering, he walked off set and fled to Africa. This was the story we were told. This was before Twitter and Instagram. The internet swirled with rumors that he had gone crazy and was going to live in Africa forever. He had abandoned Hollywood for good.

But the whole thing stank of racism, buried just underneath the surface. Why was Chappelle suddenly crazy when he didn’t want a huge sum of money? Yes, that’s a huge sum of money but deep down I thought, those people are trying to exploit him. Intuitively I felt like Chappelle knew he was part of a bigger racial-bridging that was allowing white people access to private areas of black culture. He had invited fans to shout famous lines back at him. Lines that Chappelle himself and other black actors had killed with. But, lines that white fans should never say. They were insensitive to the privilege shared by black people to communicate to other black people. White people want to say the n-word and it’s not theirs to say. It’s a truth other black comedians have shared.

When Chris Rock was caught in conversations with racists who relayed his “niggers versus black people” bit back to him he retired it permanently. The price of being an honest black comedian in this country is that white people can retell your insider information as intel. White people who would otherwise have no interaction with black people now has an arsenal of information. They have evidence that was not acquired through firsthand experience. They have heard the inner monologue of black America and instead of fixing racial injustice, they are repeating their favorite lines. And in spite of all of that, in spite of all the drama between Comedy Central and Dave Chappelle, in spite of the racial implications the media had thrown around, I got a job as an intern in hopes just being in the same office that created Chappelle’s Show could imbue me with some genius or good fortune.

It didn’t.

It was whack. There were like 40 of us on a rotating schedule where three of us would work certain days together and then another three would work another group of days and sometimes you would see other interns on your day because they couldn’t come in on their regular day. Since there were so many interns doing the work that one capable assistant could perform we were all basically twiddling our thumbs, trying to look useful and eager. Some interns dazzled executives with their epic notes on scripts, replete with a solid three act structure and relevant examples, figures, marketing suggestions. Others buried their noses up anyone’s ass who lingered near them long enough, offering to get coffee, lunch, snacks, dry cleaning, children from daycare, gifts for spouses, you name it. I employed none of these strategies. I scoped the most eligible bachelors and tried to dazzle them with my charms. The married ones would have been the smarter bet. Married men are more willing to go out on a limb for a cute, inexperienced graduate with a lot to prove. They won’t cheat but they like feeling important to women still so they’ll toss around bread crumbs. The single ones are still so obsessed with themselves that they can’t see far enough past their noses to help. I was vying for the attention of one executive I was sure would marry me, given I had enough alone time with him in the kitchen, when I learned he was getting engaged. It was devastating. Of course I would choose to be in love with someone just about to propose.

It dawned on me that marrying your way into the entertainment business was sort of gross and I was at Comedy Central to make a name for myself. Meaning, I should make it for myself. Not rely on somebody else giving me a handout. I had to go out and earn my job. Unfortunately, it seemed that only a few at Comedy Central had actually earned their job from sheer hard work. Most people had arrived there from a combination of knowing someone and favors and white privilege that is the winningest cocktail of all time. But, even they didn’t really like their jobs. It made no sense. The ones with the worst attitudes, who were the most lazy, cranky, emotionally unhinged seemed to know the most people. And they hated everything and everyone.

Below them, were us, the interns. And to my chagrin, I’d been wasting entire weeks of time pining over some man who’d hardly noticed me while these nerds were working their asses off. I was light years behind and frankly, unwilling to break my back for a job that didn’t seem like it would ever come my way. I was this sore thumb. I felt like a step sister and everyone else was The Brady Bunch. Primarily, I looked very different than everyone there. I wore ripped jeans and had tattoos and listened to hip hop. Wearing hoop earrings to work basically identified me as a member of the Crips. These people were so white and goofy that the only person of color they’d managed to hire had gone to private school their entire lives.

This sounds bratty already and I swear to God, I am not an ungrateful asshole. I am writing this to say that the experience crushed me a little bit. I left the internship at the end of the summer with no interest in staying in touch with anyone. With the exception of running into Joe at a party, I’ve run into one girl, Sarah, at my exercise class. I reveled when she feigned confusion when I asked if she’d remembered me from Comedy Central three years prior. I thought to myself, “I’m about to ruin this bitch’s day” and I’d like to think that her trembling, noodle-like legs during my class were some karmic retribution for her unkindness.

Besides that, I have no ill feelings towards anyone presently. To be fair, the assistants were only a year or two older than me at the time and wielding an unnatural amount of power. They did not handle power well. Not many do.

#comedy central #dave chappelle #workaholics #comedy #intern #2000s blog

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sailorchiron · 5 years

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Day Four! Michael Guerin Week

Okay, I’m well aware that day 5 just ended and I’m JUST NOW POSTING DAY FOUR’S FIC but being a teacher is EXHAUSTING and I didn’t get much writing done Friday or today. So here’s ‘the tropier the better’ featuring my fav, hurt/comfort.

Read on Ao3

Float On

It was an extremely lazy Saturday morning and they were snuggled up together in Michael’s bed, still in pajamas. Okay, well, they’d worn pajamas and hoodies to breakfast in the dining hall, but the fact remained that they were still in their pajamas. They’d fought briefly over who got to wear the incredibly soft pants with hideous palm trees on them, and Michael had won. Alex’s argument was always that they were actually <i>his</i> pants. Michael’s was usually just tickling Alex until he gave in. It was very effective.

“You asleep?” Michael murmured, running his hand through his boyfriend’s silky hair.

“Huh uh,” Alex answered, sounding like he was teetering on the edge of consciousness. “I actually don’t want to go back to sleep and waste the entire day.” To prove this, he pulled away from Michael and stretched before propping himself up on one elbow and giving him a kiss. “What do you want to do today? And don’t you dare say get a headstart on homework.”

“That was one time!”

“It was blasphemy. What fun things would you like to do today?”

“No idea, really. I kinda wanna get outside for a while.” He got antsy if he didn’t see the sky for too long. “Wanna go out to the desert?”

Alex shook his head. “It’s too cold. With nothing to stop the wind out there we’ll freeze.”

Michael had to concede the point. “Yah, you’re probably right. Walking around campus sounds boring, though. Any other ideas?”

“I kinda want to skate, but that’d probably be boring for you.”

Michael shot up. “I’ve never seen you skate, though, that wouldn’t be boring.”

Alex laughed. “Okay, if you’re sure. I could even try to teach you how if you want.”

“Uh, okay.”

“It’s not that hard, you’re smart and coordinated. Unless you don’t think you can do it.”

Oh, that was a challenge if ever he’d heard one. “Watch me.”

They both threw on clothes, or, well, jeans and shoes, leaving on their t-shirts and UNM hoodies. Michael suspected he was actually wearing Alex’s, it smelled like a combination of lavender and just Alex. He watched him pull a beanie on over his hair, which had gotten a lot longer since move in. Michael thought it was gorgeous, and especially liked that it was too long for him to gel it into submission. Maria wanted him to bleach the ends and die it pink or something, and he absolutely refused. Alex wasn’t into the rainbow hair that a lot of emo kids liked.

“Are those specific shoes for skating?”

Alex looked up from where he was tying them. “Basically, yah. Vans are the original skateboarding shoes.” He stood and grabbed his board from where it had been propped against his desk all semester. “Let’s go find somewhere I can break the law.”

Michael laughed and followed him out the door. “Hey, do you think DeLuca would want to come with us?”

“Actually, yah,” Alex answered with a grin. “She’s my best cinematographer.”

“She has videos of you skating?”

He nodded. “I’m surprised she’s never shown them to you, she’s proud of her photography skills. If you were on Facebook, you could have watched them already.” He glared.

“Not gonna happen, I don’t want to connect with people. Twitter is enough.” It was a long-standing and absolutely not serious argument. He pulled out his phone to text her.

Michael: Hey Alex is going to endanger his life on a rolling piece of wood.

Michael: Wanna come watch and film video evidence?

Maria: I was just thinking about how bored I was, so yes.

Michael: Meet us out front.

“DeLuca will be joining us for your escapades.”

“Awesome. Man, this place is a ghost town this weekend, it’s like everyone went home.”

“It really is. There were only three other people in the dining hall.”

The front steps and ramps were completely deserted, which was unusual. Michael watched Alex drop his board and put his foot on it. “I can skate here since no one’s around. I should see if there’s skate park in Albuquerque.”

“Is there one in Roswell?”

“Of course not,” Alex laughed. “I exclusively skated in places that it wasn’t allowed. There was an abandoned ranch house out on the edge of town with a huge empty pool, I did plenty of illegal skating there.”

Michael watched him push off with his right foot and jump on when the board started moving. I have no idea what the terminology is for this. Alex stayed on the flat parts of the entryway, doing flip things that were different each time. He was suitably impressed.

“Are there names for these things?”

“Yah. Do you want to know them?”

“Not right now.”

He spotted Maria coming out the door of Laguna Hall. “Hey DeLuca. My boyfriend is showing us evidence of his juvenile delinquency.”

“Yah, juvenile delinquent that graduated with a 4.0.”

Michael laughed. “I’m also a juvenile delinquent that graduated with a 4.0 so I guess I can’t judge.”

Maria had her phone out. “Do something more interesting if you want me to take video.”

Alex laughed. “K.”

Michael watched with horror has he kicked the board away from himself and ran to jump onto it, then flew down the shallow stairs. He landed at the bottom without any outward signs of injury. “What the fuck, Alex?”

“I’ve gone down a lot worse stairs, Michael,” he laughed.

Michael watched him climb back up the stairs. “How did you not fall?”

“You’re in physics.”

“Do a rail slide,” Maria called out.

“K.”

Michael watched him skate from close to the building to the stairs, do some kind of flip with his board that made it go with him when he launched himself into the air, and then he fucking landed on the board on the railing and slid down to the bottom before jumping off, flipping the skateboard again, and landing on it.

“Holy fuck.”

Alex laughed, breathless. “It’s more fun if the stairs are steeper.”

“I had no idea you were such an adrenaline junkie.”

“It counteracts my ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat.” He carried the board back up the steps. “I’ve gone down three sets of railings before, it’s a rush.”

“And the only scar you have is the one on your forehead?”

“I’ve had some impressive road rash,” he laughed. “And a lot of bruises. But no scars or broken bones.”

“How did you learn all of these flips and moves and stuff?”

“Other skaters and YouTube. And a lot of trial and error. Wanna try it?”

“Um.”

“I can’t believe you’re scared.”

Oh, no. “I’m not scared.”

“Uh huh.” Alex smirked.

“Okay, fuck you, I’ll try.”

They went down to the bottom of the steps. “Okay, let’s start at the very beginning.” Alex dropped his board and put is foot on it so it wouldn’t roll away. “There’s no way you cannot do this.” He just pushed the board forward and settled his foot on it to glide forward a few feet. “You try.” Alex came close to him, and kissed his cheek. “No powers,” he whispered in his ear.

Michael nodded. He hadn’t planned to use his powers in front of Maria, but he understood Alex’s warning.

“Okay, so, here.” Alex stepped off his board. “Put your left foot on it, a little more than halfway to the front of the board.” He hovered a hand near his elbow in case he lost his balance. “Now, just gently push yourself forward with your right foot, and once you’re moving, put your right foot behind your left foot. When you want to stop, put your right foot back down.”

Michael did as instructed. “Okay, yes, this is easy.” He put his foot down to stop.

“So now go faster.”

Michael doubted the wisdom of that, but was not going to back down from the challenge in Alex’s voice. He turned around so he’d be going toward Alex and Maria and away from the curb. Falling into the parking lot was not part of his plan for the day. This time he pushed off a little harder, pinwheeling his arms a little to keep his balance. When he tried to stop, the board went out from under him and he fell on his ass.

“Graceful, Guerin.”

“I don’t see you trying.”

“I’m a dancer, I can’t risk these legs.”

Alex just held out his hand to help him get to his feet. “Welcome to how bad your ass will hurt later today. It’s impossible to learn to skate without falling.”

“Great.”

Michael just practiced staying on the board for a little while, and quickly learned that he had to put more muscle into keeping his balance. “My abs are going to hurt later, aren’t they?”

“Yep.”

It only took about 20 minutes for Michael to get the hang of it. Alex had been right when he’d said he was smart and coordinated and should be able to learn fairly easily.

Unfortunately for Michael, he got cocky.

Alex showed him a ‘basic’ flip off the curb. It looked easy. Michael tried it on the flat concrete and had it down when he decided it couldn’t be hard to go off the curb and land on the board. He’d figured out how to keep his center of gravity over the flexible board.

So he tried it.

And epically failed.

“Fuck, Michael, are you okay?”

Michael looked up from where he was on the pavement to see Alex and Maria running over to him. Alex was on his knees next to him instantly. “I don’t think I’m okay.”

“I heard something crack.” Alex looked a little panicked. “What hurts?”

He took stock of his body. “Well, my ass, my hand, wrist, and arm, and my pride. But mostly my right ankle.” It fucking hurt.

“Fuck.” Alex moved and gently pulled Michael’s left foot into his lap. “I’m going to take your shoe off.” He was as careful as possible removing it and his sock, then pushing his jeans up. “Can you try to move it?”

It took a Herculean effort to rotate his foot a little. “That fucking hurts.”

“But you can move it, so it’s not broken, just sprained. Do you usually have bad swelling when you hurt yourself?”

“No idea, I’ve never sprained anything before.” Good thing it’s not broken, since I can’t go to the hospital.

“Come on, let’s get you up off the ground and upstairs.” Alex crouched next to him and put his right arm over his shoulders. “Push off the ground with your left foot at the same time I stand up.”

Maria came over to help. “Here, use my shoulder for balance.”

Michael didn’t think he was really hurt this badly, but had to admit that it was nice to have people actually care that he was in pain. “Okay, count of three?” With Alex and Maria, it wasn’t too hard to get up, but putting weight on his right foot was agony. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

“When we get upstairs I’ll go get some ice to put on it,” Alex promised. “And we’ve got Advil, it will help with the swelling, even if it doesn’t really touch the pain.”

“Okay.” He didn’t know if Advil would have any impact on his physiology, but it was worth a try.

Getting back up the shallow stairs was stupidly difficult, and not for the first time, Michael wished he could use telekinesis to move himself. He’d tried. It didn’t work.

“We should see if anyone has crutches so you don’t have to waste time going to the health center,” Maria suggested.

“Good idea.”

They took the elevator even though it was only one floor. Michael was certainly happy to be wrapped up in Alex’s arms, but wished it was under other circumstances. Maria didn’t get out.

“You get him in bed, I’ll see if anyone on my floor has crutches. You know how many athletes are the fourth floor.”

“Thanks, DeLuca.”

Once in the room, Alex helped him sit on his desk chair, and he groaned. “Have you sprained something skating? Because I can’t go to the doctor for obvious reasons.”

“Yah, I couldn’t go either. Keep the swelling down with ice and NSAIDs, stay off of it as much as possible. It’s going to hurt to get into bed.”

Michael sighed. Might as well let his last weird secret go. “Is your nail polish remover acetone or non-acetone?”

Alex gave him a look like he was crazy, but looked over at the dresser. “Acetone.”

“Hand it to me?” He huffed when Alex just stared at him. “Please, just trust me.”

“Okay…” He handed him the bottle and watched him unscrew the top.

“Please don’t freak out,” Michael asked before taking a swig of the sharp-tasting liquid. He’d often wondered what it tasted like to humans, but would never know since it was pretty fatal if swallowed in any quantity.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Alex yelled, eyes wide. “You can’t--”

He took another drink. He could already feel the effects, his muscles were relaxing, and the pain in his ankle was receding a little. “I can.” He put the cap back on the bottle. “I probably still need ice on it for the swelling, but it won’t hurt as much now, I’ll be able to get into bed.”

Alex closed his eyes. “How the fuck does nail polish remover work as a pain killer and why can you drink it without dying?”

Michael laughed a little. “It’s the acetone. It works like a cross between aspirin and alcohol.”

“How the fuck did you figure that out? Why the fuck did you try drinking nail polish remover in the first place?”

It was starting to bother Michael that Alex was standing so far from him, like he was a freak now. He reached out a hand to him, and watched his posture soften immediately. He took his hand and kissed his cheek before grabbing his own chair and dragging it over to Michael’s. “Here put your foot in my lap, you should have it elevated.”

Michael repositioned himself before answering Alex’s earlier question. “I have to assume that acetone smells poisonous to you?”

“Yah, it’s one of the worst smelling things in the world.”

“It doesn’t smell like that to me. It smells...a little antiseptic, a little bit like fresh apples, and a little bit like mineral water. Pure acetone, like they use in salons, smells better than nail polish remover, since it has other ingredients.”

“Okay, my mind is blown.” Alex shook his head. “So it basically smells like medicine.”

“Basically.”

“What inspired you to drink it?”

Michael closed his eyes. “When I was maybe eight or nine, I think it was with my second foster family, I found out it existed when the girls were doing their nails. They were complaining that it smelled terrible but I told them it smelled nice to me, and they laughed and told me I was weird.” He gave Alex a crooked smile. “From a human point of view, it’s weird. I didn’t know I wasn’t human at that point, but I was already aware that I was weird, so I tried not to let it bother me.”

“Kids are mean.”

“Yep. That placement was okay, no one was especially awful, but the dad lost his job in Albuquerque and they were moving to like North Carolina and we all got shuffled to different homes. My next placement was...not as nice. I was up in the middle of the night because I was starving and miserable, and saw the nail polish remover in the kitchen and just decided to taste it. I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in a couple days, and I just remembered how it smelled and decided to drink it to see if it tasted good, too. I wasn’t thinking about how I could possibly die,” Michael explained, knowing Alex would jump to that conclusion. He hadn’t been suicidal. “It actually tasted okay, not exactly good, but not bad, and after about 30 seconds, I could feel the difference in my body. I was still hungry but it didn’t hurt as much. After another drink I couldn’t feel the bruises on my back and arms. I kept the bottle and hid it under my mattress.”

“Michael,” Alex started softly, “I’m so sorry. I’d kiss you but I’d hurt us both leaning forward.”

Michael smiled at him. “It’s okay, you can kiss me later.” Alex was so sweet. “Over the years I’ve gotten a lot of use out of it. The big scar on my left shoulder blade?” He waited for Alex to nod. “Yah, if I hadn’t had acetone then, I don’t know what I would have done, it hurt like hell.”

“I’m glad no one can ever hurt you again. I love you so much, Michael.”

“I love you too, baby. I think I can get into bed now.”

“Take your jeans off and put pjs back on,” Alex suggested.

“Good plan.”

Climbing up into his bed was pure hell but Michael was sure it would build character or something. Once he was settled against the pillows and covered up with all of their blankets, Alex climbed back down. “I’m going to go get ice, I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”

While Alex was gone, Michael thought about how he was supposed to elevate his foot but didn’t know what they could use, since all three pillows were currently under his head and a stack of textbooks didn’t sound very comfortable. When Alex came back, he brought that up.

“I’ll ask Maria to bring one of her big furry pillows,” he offered as he wrapped the plastic bag of ice cubes in a towel. “Once this is on your ankle, I’ll text her.” He climbed into bed and put Michael’s foot in his lap. “You’re getting some colorful bruising, and it’s swollen, but it could definitely be worse.” He gently pressed the ice pack against the side of his ankle. “Want me to just hold it for you for a while?”

Michael chuckled. “You’re ridiculous, I’ll hold it there myself. Come up here.”

Alex let go of the ice pack and saw that Michael was holding it there with telekinesis. “When I get some more pillows from Maria, we can keep it from moving without your powers.”

“Okay. Still come here.”

He moved carefully up the bed to get under the covers with Micheal. “I’m sorry my idea of fun today was to injure you.”

“Don’t be an idiot, this isn’t your fault.” He snuggled into Alex. “It was an accident. I could have said no at any time.”

“I know, but I still feel bad.”

“Don’t.” He hummed when Alex adjusted a little so he could play with his hair. “That’s a good distraction.”

“I’ll keep doing it then. You’re always taking care of me, I can take care of you for a change.”

“That sounds fantastic.” The acetone was making him feel pretty good and the pain was bearable. “Love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

Michael was pretty sure no one had ever held him while he calmed down after hurting himself. It was weird and fucking amazing. He sighed happily has Alex continued to drag his nails lightly over his scalp. “You’re the best boyfriend,” he mumbled.

Alex laughed softly. “I try.”

“You do a good job.” He lifted his head. “You said you’d kiss me.”

“This seems like a perfect opportunity.” He pressed their lips together and they kissed softly for a few moments. “Want me to text Maria to bring the pillow and see if she found crutches?”

“Yah. Can you help me sit up so I can take off my hoodie? I’m hot.”

“Yes, Michael, you’re very attractive,” Alex deadpanned with a sigh and an eye roll, earning a belly laugh.

Maria was happy to bring pillows and had indeed gotten crutches from her suite mate. When Alex let her in, she also had a big bag of gummy bears for ‘emotional support,’ an Ace bandage, and one of the gel ice packs you put the freezer to keep it cold.

“I knew I liked you,” Michael announced with gratitude. He accepted Alex’s help to sit up a little so he could eat the candy and was patient and appreciative when his boyfriend swapped out the dripping, melted ice bag with the blue pack then wrapped the ace bandage around it loosely to keep it in place. “Thanks, DeLuca.”

“Angelina is about your height, you probably won’t even have to adjust the crutches.”

“She is tall, yah.”

“I’ll spring for pizza so you don’t have to get out of bed to get dinner, Guerin,” Maria offered.

“Nice try, Maria, I know you have a coupon for a free pizza.”

“I’m still sharing!”

After Maria left to go out with friends, Michael drank what was left of Alex’s nail polish remover. “There’s no real way for me to get more,” Alex explained apologetically. “Maria has acetone-free nail polish remover, and the only person I know well enough to ask for a ride besides you is Dean, and I don’t think I could get him to take me to get it without more questions than I can answer.” Their suite mate was cool, but there was no way that request wouldn’t be weird when at least 200 girls in their residence hall would have it and he didn’t have have polish on his nails right now.

“It’s okay. Just come get in bed.”

It was still early but laying around sounded like the best option for a boy with a fucked up ankle and his sweet significant other. He watched Alex strip down to his boxers and t-shirt and climb up. “We can watch a movie later if you want to.”

“That would be good.”

Michael’d taken the ice pack off for a while. The swelling was down and he was tired of having his leg stretched out. He happily wrapped his arms around Alex and kissed his neck. He loved that with Alex he didn’t feel like he always had to be the strong one. There was a lot of equality in their relationship and it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“My ankle hurts,” Michael complained after a few minutes.

“I’m sure it does. Do you want to see if Advil will help?”

“No point. Aspirin works a little, but nothing else really does. And aspirin makes my stomach hurt.”

“I wonder if opioids would work?”

“I hope I never have to find out. But I’ve found that acetone and tequila are a pretty effective combination.”

“Let’s hope you don’t hurt yourself bad enough for that, neither of us can buy alcohol yet.”

Michael nuzzled against Alex’s neck, kissing softly before nipping. “Maybe you could distract me.” He smiled when Alex tipped his head to the side, and ran his tongue over the soft skin.

“I don’t think there’s a sex position that won’t hurt your foot,” Alex laughed, but he didn’t stop the hands that were sliding under his shirt. “You probably shouldn’t exert yourself too much.”

“I’m sure you can think of something, you’re really smart.” Michael grinned when Alex laughed, and enjoyed the little gasp he sucked in when he brushed his fingers over his nipple. “And you’re so creative.”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” Alex complained, but he was already running his hands over Michael’s body under his t-shirt. “Wouldn’t want to put any stress on your system. All the trauma.”

Michael helped Alex pull his shirt off and moaned softly when he started kissing down his chest. “But this is so comforting,” Michael argued, laughing when Alex did. “I feel so much more mentally healthy already.” His fingers gripped Alex’s hair when his teeth closed around his nipple. “Fuck.”

Alex started kissing his way down his stomach. “Your mental health is very important to me.”

“You’re such a good boyfriend,” Michael panted.

“Lift up but only with your left foot,” Alex instructed. “Don’t push down with your sprained ankle.”

“You’re so smart.” Michael held himself up while Alex pulled his pants down, then off. “Oh, fuck, Alex.” He spread his legs as wide as he could on the twin bed. “Why’re you still dressed?”

“Because I don’t have to be naked to suck you off.” He settled between his legs. “Don’t want you to hurt yourself arching, put your right leg over my shoulder.” He helped Michael position himself. “Your health and well-being are of the utmost importance.”

“I can tell.” He groaned at the first touch of Alex’s hot tongue. “Fuck.” Michael let his head fall back against the pillow.

“Tell me if this gets too stressful,” Alex teased. Then he swallowed his cock.

“Oh fuck!” Michael was glad Alex didn’t mind if he pulled his hair a little, because he couldn’t keep his hands off his head. “Fuck.” For someone that hadn’t been doing this for very long, Alex was fucking good at it. He learns fast. Damn. “Baby, this, I’m not going to last long,” he panted out. “So good.”

In response, Alex doubled his efforts. “Fuck, if you don’t--”

Alex didn’t pull back so he took that as permission to come, and groaned through his orgasm, fingers tight in Alex’s hair, ankle completely forgotten. He was vaguely aware of Alex releasing him from his mouth and moving a little to breathe, but it was at the periphery of his consciousness. He just panted for a while, feeling tingly and floaty and he’d forgotten how it felt to come after drinking acetone and it was so good.

Eventually, though, he realized he was pinning Alex to the bed with his face in his crotch, and it was at the very least rude, so he started to move his leg. “Sorry, baby.”

“Don’t be,” Alex answered softly, helping him settle his sore foot on the bed before moving up to offer him a kiss. “Was that a good distraction?”

“Oh fuck yes,” Michael laughed, breathless. He waited while Alex got back under the blanket, then wrapped himself around him, head on his chest. “That was amazing.”

“‘M glad.” Alex rubbed his face against Michael’s soft, springy hair. “I love you.”

Michael smiled. “I love you too, Alex. I think with a little more of your excellent care I’ll be back on my feet. Literally.”

Alex laughed softly. “I don’t know if oral sex really accelerates healing.”

“It’s the emotional support,” Michael laughed. “My emotional well-being is so supported now.”

“Oh good,” he laughed. “I know it’s early, but do you want to sleep for a little while?”

“Yah. That sounds great.” He reached out mentally and turned off their desk lamps. “Joking aside, thanks for taking care of me, Alex. You really are the best boyfriend.”

“You’re sweet. I like taking care of you.”

“I’ll hurt myself more often, just to make you happy.”

“Fuck you.”

Michael cuddled as close as he could, taking comfort from the warm arms around him. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Jesus fucking christ, Michael, go to sleep.”

#mgweek19 #guerinweek19 #malex #malex fic #roswell nm

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its-flicked-switch · 5 years

Text

It Can Be

Teen and Up | 2.8k

While on a stakeout, a burning question is asked leading to unexpected revelations and a conversation that is long overdue. Set mid to late S6.

This story was written for the X-Files Secret Summer Fanfic Exchange (2019) created and orchestrated by OnlyTheInevitable\\ @gaycrouton.

Prompt: "I'm ok with twists or turns, fluff or angst, but true to characters."

A gift to Pstafford3 (Twitter)

Beta by: @kikocrystalball and @admiralty-xfd

"Well, you need a father, of course. I can get you genetic counseling on finding an anonymous donor if that's what you want... unless you already have someone in mind."

"Yeah... I, uh... I just have to figure out how to ask him."

Flashback in 8x13 — Per Manum

|| 2 days later ||

"If Emily had lived … do you think I could have done it? Been a single mother?"

They've been sitting in a car outside of an abandoned warehouse for nearly an hour indulging one of his hunches. Mulder had anticipated catching the third degree for calling her at 2 A.M. on a Saturday morning, but this is not the degree he expected, so he proceeds with caution.

"That's a rather loaded question."

He doesn't say it to be abrasive or to deflect away from the seriousness and vulnerability he hears in her voice. He says it because he's not sure what else to say.

Their interactions following the revelation of her stolen ova have been strained. While Scully hasn't outright ignored him or overtly lashed out at him, she's certainly maintained a respectable distance, keeping her fury and frustration hidden beneath layers of masked professionalism. After their discussion in the elevator, Mulder had braced himself for fire and brimstone, but so far, all he has been afforded is silence, which is far worse.

Two weeks have passed, but the tension is still unbearably high, leading him to believe that she has conferred with several specialists of her own choosing and has now reached the same conclusion he arrived at little over a year ago — the ova are not viable. While he can appreciate her anger, he doubts that she fully grasps his intent in keeping it from her or the depth at which it has eaten away at him.

When he discovered her stolen ova back in 1997, he immediately took them to a specialist to be assessed, and when he hadn't gotten the answer he wanted to hear, he had them sent them to another one. That pattern held for well over six months before he finally relented.

Keeping it from her had been an easy decision to make in the beginning given how gravely ill she was, but as her health returned, his justification in continuing to do so had been more complicated. Ultimately, he had kept it from her out of pure, unadulterated hope. Hope that there was an answer — a different path that he could take that would lead him to something other than the devastating news he currently had: the ova are not viable.

How in the fuck was he supposed to tell her that? On top of everything else, how could he possibly tell her that he had found her ova, but that there was nothing to be done with them? That they were useless? He couldn't even say it to himself in the mirror without becoming physically ill.

If the syndicate possessed the power to cure her cancer, then was it not reasonable to assume that they also possessed the ability to reverse her infertility? Somehow turning unviable ova into something viable? It didn't seem any less likely than curing incurable cancer.

Scully was the scientist, not him. Yet, the leading experts in the field had already told him that he was wasting his time and money looking for alternatives and storing ova that were not viable. Within a year, he was convinced that there was nothing conventional that could be done and was unable to stomach telling Scully that the fate of her ability to conceive a child of her own making would rest in the hands of the same monsters who had taken that right from her to begin with.

He valued his partnership with Scully more than anything, and he would move mountains or die trying before he would ever hurt her. And this news — this secret, would undoubtedly hurt her, so instead of telling her the truth, he had kept it from her and continued to search for solutions on his own with the hope that when the time came, he would have an answer. But in the blink of an eye, weeks turned into months and months into years, and still, there had been no resolution, conventional or otherwise.

And then came Emily.

Emily's sudden appearance changed everything. She was living proof that Scully's ova had been viable at one point, or that perhaps, out of all those extracted, he had just been unlucky enough to grab the one vial that was useless.

That was the other issue. Telling Scully the truth would require another harmful and devastating admission. There were more out there, and they were currently unaccounted for. When he returned to the research facility to retrieve the other vials, they were gone, either removed or destroyed, and there was no way to determine which since the facility had been burned to the ground.

The matter was further complicated by his degree of uncertainty with regards to her current medical status and the nature and permanency of the effects of the experimentation that was performed. While it was clear that they had taken a substantial amount of Scully's reproductive material, it was unclear if they had taken everything. Had what was in that drawer been a representation of everything they had taken? Or had there been more stored elsewhere? Had the extraction left her completely barren? Or had it merely ensured that it would be difficult for her to conceive naturally? If so, did she know?

Seeing her with Emily had only deepened his despair. He should have told her about the ova then. Hell, he should have told her as soon as she returned to work, months before Emily ever came into the picture, but he continued to hold back, having convinced himself that all he needed was more time. But all of that changed two weeks ago when he found Scully standing in a daze on the elevator. In that moment, every argument and justification he had ever made crumbled.

He couldn't keep it from her any longer. Not when she had brought it to him directly. She deserved to know the truth, and he had already kept it from her for far longer than he should have.

This is how Mulder came to be the asshole who told his partner about her stolen ova on an elevator.

"So you don't," Scully says, breaking their silence. "You don't think I could have done it."

There's an edge to her voice that makes him inwardly cringe. It comes out matter-of-fact, but Mulder knows better.

"I didn't say that. I just said it was a loaded question," he replies, doing his best to choose his words carefully.

"You either do or don't. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

The bite in her voice is unmistakable. Scully is pissed, and frankly, she has a right to be. He just wishes that he could find a way to articulate his intentions to her. While he's well aware of the fact that he can be a certified asshole, he would never do anything to intentionally harm her, and he knows that underneath all of the anger and hurt, she knows that.

Everything he has done, he has done to protect her.

"Scully—"

"I asked you to back me up … to testify on my behalf and you did, but there was … hesitancy there. From both you and my family."

"I can't speak for your family, Scully. I can only speak for myself, but you're right, I did have reservations … but none of them had anything to do with you or your ability to parent or raise a child."

"Then—"

"Three years after your abduction, a child shows up with your DNA. I was questioning the validity of it and what it could mean, especially in light of what I knew they had taken from you. Had the circumstances been different, I would have been happy for you … elated even, but instead I was terrified … for you and for her … and at the same time I was furious."

"Furious?"

"They took something from you that they had no right to take … something that was yours to give to a person of your choosing. And Emily? She didn't deserve … no child deserves to be a pawn in someone else's game. I know that better than most."

The silence that ensues is thick, but instead of letting it hang, Mulder presses forward.

"I just had a feeling … a feeling that it wasn't real."

"She was real, Mulder, and she was mine."

"Yet she wasn't. She bled green."

She doesn't argue with him on this point because she can't, but she's clearly not pleased with him for making it to begin with.

"I shouldn't have kept this from you, Scully. I know that, and I'm sorry."

"Yet you did it anyway. For almost two years."

"You've never asked me why."

"Because it doesn't matter. You had no right."

"It does matter. It matters a lot."

"Okay. I'll bite. Why, Mulder? Why did you think that keeping me in the dark about MY OWN genetic material was a good call for YOU to make? Were you afraid that I would break down and check myself into a psychiatric ward? Or was keeping it from me more about your impending fear of me leaving you alone to chase monsters in the dark?"

The heat radiating off of her body and venom in her voice startles him into silence.

This is the reaction he anticipated two weeks ago, but the anticipation hasn't diminished its impact. It would be easy in this moment to give it right back to her and let his rising pulse predominate, giving her the fight she's clearly looking for, but he won't. If she wants to be angry, that is certainly her right, but she is at least going to have all of the facts straight first.

"Do you honestly believe, after everything that we've been through, that I would ever do anything to intentionally hurt you, Dana?"

The use of her given name is intentional. It's a quiet, subtle ceasefire, and the effect it has is immediate. As soon as it rolls off of his tongue, she stills, the fire in her eyes dissipating as her attention shifts. Holding her gaze, he lets the silence that follows hang, cooling the air around them before he continues.

"The look of devastation that crossed your face … I would have done anything in the world to keep that look off of your face, so yes, I kept it from you. I consulted every credentialed doctor and accredited research facility in the country and refused to let them destroy them despite being told repeatedly that they weren't viable. I wanted to find a solution, even if it wasn't a conventional one … so that one day, when I did tell you, it wouldn't be the news I have now. Keeping this from you was wrong, and you have every right to be angry but don't think for a single second that it didn't weigh on me, because it did. It still does."

The silence that follows is heavy, the intensity of the moment driving Scully to avert her eyes. The fire that filled them earlier has fled, making way for the emotions brewing underneath. She's hurt, devastated even, and now, she's trying desperately not to cry.

Pulling his handkerchief out his pocket, he hands it to her and waits, unsure of what to say or if he should say anything else at all.

At this point, it's clear that this stakeout is a bust, but he doesn't want to make it more awkward or break the moment by starting the car and pulling away. Instead, he fixes his eyes ahead, giving her a bit of privacy as the light of dawn begins to creep up over the horizon.

"You still haven't answered my question," she says after a few moments have passed.

Her voice is low, but the tone she sets requires no translation. Scully is a woman of action, so the fact that she has returned to her original question is her concession. While she may not like or agree with what he has kept from her, she has forgiven him.

"If you're asking me if I think that you would be a good mother, then the answer is yes," Mulder replies.

The lack of hesitancy in his response appears to surprise her, shifting her gaze back to his.

"Then why the—"

"You asked specifically about being a single mother," he replies evenly.

"Yes, and?"

Sighing, Mulder shifts uncomfortably, unsure of how much more he should say if anything at all.

"Well, I just don't see that as being an issue, and I'm not saying that because I think you are incapable of doing it alone."

"They why are you saying it?"

"Scully … look … I …," he says, taking a deep breath. "I already feel like I'm six feet under, I don't want to say anything to make it worse."

"That ship has already sailed, so you might as well just say it."

Sighing and regarding her cautiously, he relents and says what's on his mind. If she wants an honest answer, he will give her one. Given all he has kept from her over the past two years, he owes her that much.

"It's just … you have too much to offer someone else to be forced down that road alone."

Of all the things she expected to come out of his mouth, this was clearly not one of them. The blush rising in her cheeks does little to hide her surprise at his admission. He would feel more guilty for making her uncomfortable if she didn't look so radiant. Even with minimal sleep and tear stained eyes, she's still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. That much hasn't changed in the six years he's known her.

"Look," he says, returning his focus back to the warehouse. "All I'm saying is that if raising a child is something you want to do, then there is absolutely no reason for you do it alone unless you just want to."

"Mulder, I haven't been asked out on a date in years."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Well, it's true."

"Men can be idiots."

To this, he receives no argument, only a ghost of a snort as Scully relaxes more deeply into her seat.

"Well, then, I guess all the men currently in my life are idiots."

"Guilty as charged," he says, raising his hands into the air.

Their soft laughter echoes in the car briefly before again returning them into silence, but unlike the silences that preceded them, this one is comfortable. Mulder knows he should quit while he is ahead, but he can't.

"You're a lethal combination, Scully. Not all men can handle that."

"Lethal combination?"

"Stunning and intelligent. Typically, you get one or the other … both are… well, a bit rare and can be a bit intimidating."

Scully doesn't say anything in response, but the pink hue rising up through her neck and into her cheeks warns him that he's teetering dangerously close to the edge. He doesn't want to embarrass her or make her uncomfortable, but he also wants her to know that he does see her, not just as a partner but as a woman. A woman who has a tremendous amount to offer, little of which has anything to do with her reproductive status.

When she doesn't speak, he begins to backpedal a bit, not wanting to end on a note that is upsetting or uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Look, I think you will be an excellent mother with or without a partner, so if that's what you're asking, then that's my answer. Forget the rest."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable Mulder," she says quietly, avoiding his eyes. "It's just … not something I'm used to hearing."

"Hmmm … sounds to me like you need better friends, or maybe just a better partner. One who actually encourages you to get out of the car."

"Mmmm … my partner can certainly be an ass, but he's grown on me. And most of the time, I don't actually mind being in the car."

"And the other times?"

To this, she only smirks, nodding her head in a manner of dismissal and averting her gaze back to the warehouse. When it's clear she's going to let the question hang without answering it, Mulder changes the subject.

"Why … why bring this up?"

He asks the question half expecting her to skirt around it without directly answering it, but she doesn't.

"Because I'm almost 35. There are options out there … I just have to decide whether or not I'm going to take them."

"Well, whatever you decide, you'll have my full support, Scully."

The silence that follows surprises him, causing him to shift his focus back to her and study her expression. What he finds is as intriguing as it is troubling. There's clearly something weighing on her mind. Something she isn't sharing.

"I wish it were that simple."

Reaching out, he takes her hand in his and gives it a squeeze.

"It can be."

#the x files #msr fanfic #msr #conversation in the car #mulder and scully #angst #X FILE SUMMER FANFIC GIFT EXCHANGE 2019

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ourloveisforthelovely · 5 years

Text

Fallout 7- Finale

Supernatural RPF

Warnings: RPF, smut

Link to chapter 6

Words: 1,638

Pairings: Richard Speight Jr/Reader

__________

The next week of the honeymoon went smooth. Leaving the cabin didn’t happen much. Getting out of bed itself seemed to be almost a chore. On morning 5, you woke up to hearing Richard on the phone again.

“Fine Rob. Instead of meeting you there just come here to us. See you then.”

You turned as Richard got back into bed beside you..

“What was that about?”

Richard chuckled.

“Rob actually came here to talk to us. I have to say I totally did not expect that one.”

You pressed your lips together. Part of you was ecstatic to see your brother the other part was more nervous than anything. Why? You weren’t sure. This was Rob, however, at the same time you had never felt more abandoned by Rob in your whole life.

“When will he be here?”

She asked softly. Richard looked down at his watch.

“Uh like 30 minutes?”

You quickly stood up.

“Thanks for the warning! You may want to put some clothes on. Do you really want Rob to see us sitting here butt booty naked?”

Richard smirked and pulled on some abandoned jeans.

“Wouldn’t be the first time he’s seen more of me than I would have liked.”

You rolled your eyes and started going through your suitcase.

“You two have a unique friendship.”

Richard gave you a mischievous smile before walking over pulled you into his arms. You whimpered when he began to suck at your neck while one hand dipped between your legs.

“Just think about it darlin, if Rob and I didn’t have this weird friendship we wouldn’t be together. You would be with some young douche bag who wouldn’t know how to touch you right..”

Richard pulled you to the couch on the other side of the bedroom. You quickly straddled his lap being pulled into another steamy make-out session. Right as things started to get heavy, there was a knock on the door.

“For fuck sake.”

Richard mumbled as you got off of his lap.

“I’ll be down in a minute I need to fix my hair.”

Richard nodded and pulled on one of his shirts that had been tossed carelessly to the floor before turning and walking downstairs.

Opening the door, Rob stood on the other side. Rob’s eyes widened when he saw his friend.

“What happened to you? You look like you got attacked?”

Richard grinned knowing that the two of you had to be littered in love bites.

“Your sister is an animal.”

Rob looked grossed out but was pleased that Richard wasn’t cold like he had been on the phone earlier in the week. Richard carefully looked outside.

“So how did you get here not being able to drive and all?”

Rob shrugged innocently.

“Uber is a wonderful thing.”

Richard nodded letting Rob inside. He watched Rob closely pleased to see that his friend looked like was recovering well. Some of his words were still a little slurred but for the most part, he sounded decent.

“Where is Y/n?”

Rob asked as Richard sat down on the couch. He was more concerned about seeing you than anything. Rob knew that he could get Richard to listen to him easily enough. Sure Richard put on a hard to get act but it wouldn’t take Rob long to break through that exterior.

“Upstairs getting clothes on. She didn’t want to scare you with what we have been doing.”

Rob’s face went crimson. He definitely didn’t want to think about what the two of you were doing! Sure, he knew that you were having sex with Richard but that didn’t mean that he wanted to see it!

“How thoughtful.”

A few minutes later, you walked into the room. Rob looked as nervous as you did. Richard didn’t need any more proof to know that you were related to Rob. The matching nervous looks confirmed everything! You smiled when Rob stood.

“Y/n, it's good to see you.”

“Hi Rob.”

Richard sat watching the two of you awkwardly look at each other for a few minutes.

“Alright this is getting lame. Rob, you probably spent like $100-$150 on a plane ticket and about $10-$15 on an Uber to get here so I think we need to have at least $50 worth of conversation about what all has been going on between us.”

Rob nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right. You two just dropped off the face of the earth! Next thing I know I am on Twitter and see that you both are married! I mean that's cool if that is what you wanted! I know that Y/n will be taken care of and for that I am grateful! The rest is just disturbing though! Rich, you pretty much yelled at me that she is pregnant.”

You frowned before Richard started laughing.

“You’re kidding right, Robbie? You’re really funny.”

Rob frowned.

“I’m not kidding. How is this the least bit delightful?!”

Richard sighed.

“For fuck sakes, Rob that is the biggest bunch of…”

You put a hand on Richard’s shoulder knowing that he was about to lose his temper.

“Honey…”

You whispered softly.

“No Y/n, he needs to hear the truth.”

You shook your head. It didn’t matter if Rob didn't know the truth or had his own version of the truth. You were worried that this argument was going too far too quick!

“I don’t want him to get worked up.”

“Y/n, you have been devastated for the past few months!”

You instantly stopped talking and glanced at Rob who was watching the two of you closely.

“Uh…Y/n, Rich, you can both say what you want. This is why I came.”

Richard looked pleased.

“Well damn, look at that. Okay, you want the truth Rob here you go. We both tried to call you, text you, you name it we did it. You want the proof here you go.”

Richard stood to get the phone records and putting them in front of his friend. Rob blinked a few times before looking down at the printouts that had every outbound call clearly highlighted.

“I don’t understand. I never got one of these.”

Rob took out his phone putting it in Richard’s hand.

“Search my phone. If it were you two of all people calling I would have answered. Look, I want you two to think about how I felt at the same time. Richard, you’re my best friend and I mean that completely. I was thrilled when you two got together. What I am not over is the fact that you two just run off to get married. That’s really sneaky and below the belt. I would have wanted to be there. I didn’t even get told that I am going to an uncle in a decent way. That’s what I wanted to say.”

Both Richard and yourself were looking down like children who had just been scolded by their parents. You looked up first.

“We didn’t do this to intentionally hurt you, Robbie. At the moment it was just the most logical option. Neither of us wanted some big to do. Rob, I tried to call you almost every day. Richard tried to do the same thing. We have both tried so hard to reach you. We were both worried and got nowhere…”

Rob sighed. He hated seeing the pain in your eyes. Richard meanwhile, was thumbing through Rob’s phone.

“I think I found out why you didn’t get any of our calls. Someone whose name probably starts with a C and ends with a Y with rysta in the middle has blocked our numbers. No wonder you weren't getting a damn thing, Robbie.”

Rob looked completely blindsided.

“I can’t believe this. Why would she want to do something like that?”

You snorted.

“Because she hates me.”

Richard’s amber eyes fluttered to you before going back to Rob looking even angrier. To this Rob was actually pleased, seeing Richard this protective made him happy.

“You should have seen the way that cuntzilla treated her when you were in the hospital. She was awful to her just like your worthless parents.”

Rob was angry at that point.

“I’m taking care of this now. This is bullshit!”

He stood taking his cell phone back from Richard before making a phone call and walking to the fireplace pacing. Richard leaned over to you.

“What do you think he’s doing?”

You Shrugged.

“Crystal, hey, it's me. Yeah, I’m in Tennessee. Um, I just wanted to call and tell you it's over. How you did my sister was wrong. I also know that you blocked Richard and Y/n’s phone numbers so they couldn’t get a hold of me. So good luck with the apocalypse and you may want to go buy you a herd of cats or flying monkeys because you are going to die alone.”

Richard was as shocked as you were with that comment. The two of you looked completely floored as Rob turned with a smile.

“That felt nice! That woman was really annoying. So Y/n how far are you? I would like to know when I get to see my little niece or nephew.”

You smiled running a hand over your stomach.

“A little over two months.”

Rob blinked clearly surprised.

“Wow, you two wasted no time. Look I really am happy for you two. Just this time if stuff happens that’s bad like last time…work it out.”

Richard turned, pulling you into his arms pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

“It’s different this time. I would be a fucking idiot to walk away.”

______

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#Supernatural RPF #richard speight jr #rob benedict #richard speight jr x ofc #fallout story

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