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jasntodds · 1 year

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Caving In [2]

Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 7,611

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, descriptions of bruises (no colors, just shape and tint), mentions of sleep deprivation and some paranoia, mentions of death, mentions of the joker being the joker, there’s a teen wolf reference, a mention of being held captive and tortured, fluff, a mention of food being withheld

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

A/N: Hey, look chapter two up on time!! Things pick up in chapter 3, I promise!! I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 The first few chapters take place between season 2 episode 1 and season 2 episode 2. You can add yourself the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

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The next morning comes around and you’re taking the time you have alone to shower. It’s barely four in the morning so no one else is awake and you’re pretty grateful for that right now. Before going to bed the night before, Rachel stopped back by your room and offered you some clothes she thought would fit okay for the following day. So, you’re the only one awake and figured it'd be really nice to have a proper shower for once. But the shower isn't the relaxing thing you expected.

This is the first time you’ve seen yourself in a mirror since being put into a basement for several months. It's the first time you’ve seen yourself at all but this is also the first time you’re getting a look at how the tower is seeing you. Your right eye has a deep bruise. It looks a little swollen still even though you feel like you can see fine out of it. The cut on your lip is still open and the cut on your cheek is red. Bruises in the shapes of fingers are dark on your biceps, right over the scar on your right bicep. Another bruise in the shape of a shoe is on your back. The more you look the more bruises you find and you wince, finally understanding all of the sympathetic looks you’ve gotten. Not that they know about the bruises across your back and stomach but they saw your arms.

You thought it was so weird Dick wanted to help but seeing yourself in the mirror, you completely understand because if you saw yourself on the street right now, you'd be livid and force that person to come with you. Your head hangs and it's kind of like you understand and a feeling of maybe wanting to tell them what happened comes over you.

If you tell them, maybe the looks will stop because you’re healing and they'll know. It's just kind of an elephant in the room as much you want to avoid it in your head, it's there. And every single time they look at you, they're just going to want the full story. The looks won't stop until they know. And all you can do is sigh because it’s four in the morning and sleeping for an hour has you feeling a lot more feelings that you ever really liked. So, you swallow the lump your throat and go for the shower.

After the shower, you find yourself in the kitchen looking for food. You find some cereal, Cheerios, and otp for that. At this point, you’re not going to complain about whatever cereal you have. Once you have your bowl, you move into the living room and turn the TV on, sitting on the floor at the small coffee table like you used to do when you were a kid. You find Avatar: The Last Airbender on one of the many streaming services connected to the TV and call yourself content.

You eat in peace watching a childhood favorite of yours and it feels easy. You feel at ease here and it feels like it could almost feel like home if you put in a real effort to give it a chance. If you could find a way in yourself to really trust these strangers. It'll be hard but maybe it'll be worth it, early mornings alone in front of TV with some cereal.

By the time six rolls around, the lack of sleep and paranoia has started to catch up to you. This place feels safe but it also feels too good to be true. There’s a little humming in the back of your head, telling you not to trust anyone because anyone can say they’re one thing and be the opposite. You used to be so trusting of people, not naïve or anything like that, but trusting of people in general but now, it’s hard to imagine people just being nice to be nice. What if you fall asleep, really get some sleep, and they turn on you? What if they’re working with him? And he comes to take you back? Maybe you’ll get lucky and everyone will leave the tower so you can get some real peaceful sleep. You’ve gone longer without sleep, you’ll be fine. You’re always fine.

"Good morning." Dick's voice scares you while you’re stood sink washing your bowl.

"Fuck," You groan, turning to look at him. "Do you always sneak up on people?"

Dick chuckles softly. "Sorry, it's a habit, I guess." Dick didn’t think he had been all that quiet.

You roll your eyes before going back to cleaning your dish you used for cereal. You haven't had cereal since you were put into foster care. It wasn't the best cereal or anything, you’re a Trix person but it was a lot better than the chicken noodle soup you’re used to. It felt almost nostalgic and you got to just sit in the living area, watching old cartoons you used to love as a kid, in peace. Until now, with Dick awake anyway.

"Right." You say softly.

Dick watches you from the back as he stands at the kitchen island, taking notice in the coffee cup sitting on the counter behind you and the empty coffee pot off to the side. You seem jumpy, though that might just be you. This is a new place to you and after whatever you’ve been through, it's fair to be a little jumpy but it makes him wonder.

"Did you sleep last night?" He asks, walking over to the coffee pot to make himself a pot.

"'Course." You lie, not looking up from the dish that is definitely clean by now but it's something to do with your hands.

Dick uses the sink to fill up the pot, you glancing at him for just a second. "Hmm." He hums. "More than an hour?"

You pause and let out a sigh. How long has he been doing this? You weren't saying he's good at it but how does he just know shit?

"No." Your voice is filled of shame. "I-i-it's weird, being here."

"It's okay." Dick reassures you as he gets his coffee going. "I didn't sleep much when Bruce brought me home, either."

You start drying your bowl, turning to face him. "What's he like? I mean....was he nice to you? You're here so..."

Dick nods and then shrugs. "He tried his best."

"That's a cop-out for saying he sucked." You raise your brows, resting the bowl to the side before grabbing the spoon and drying it. No one with good parental figures just says they tried their best. But, since Dick is here taking in strays that need help, maybe the Bruce guy didn’t do a terrible job. Even if this whole thing is weird.

Dick chuckles. "It wasn't all bad." Dick leans against the counter, facing you as he waits for his coffee.

"Must be nice." You mutter, a sense of envy comes over you. But it just slipped out. Being jealous doesn’t make a situation better. "Sorry." You apologize.

"It's okay." Dick assures you. Dick knows he got lucky with Bruce even if Bruce wasn’t the best. Dick still got lucky. "Where ya from?" He asks, trying to change the subject a little bit but still find something out about you.

"Gotham." You roll your eyes. "Fit right in now with all the freaks Gotham breeds, huh?"

"You're not a freak." Dick says calmly.

"Mhm, sPeCiAl." You mock and then Dick catches the hit of a smirk on your face.

"You're a smartass, you know, that?"

You give him a cornered grin. "It's the only thing not damaged about me so far. Gotta hold onto it." You snicker to yourself. "What about you? San Fran?"

Dick shakes his head. "Gotham." Dick goes to grab his coffee that's finished brewing.

"Shut the fuck up." You scoff. Apparently, if people get to escape the hellscape of Gotham, they end up in San Francisco? Literally, across the country which, if you’re being honest, completely makes sense.

"Honest, so is Jason." Dick says, pouring his coffee into a mug.

"Gar?" You raise, wondering if everyone is just fleeing Gotham.

"Ohio."

"Rachel?"

"Michigan."

You hoped finding out where everyone was from would make more sense. Maybe Dick found a bunch of kids who needed to get the hell of out Gotham and brought them across the country? Something? But, finding out it’s just Jason, you’re back to this being weird.

“How did you end up with Gar and Rachel then?” You ask.

“I was detective in Detroit.” Dick explains. “That’s how Rachel found me and then we ended up in Ohio where she met Gar.”

“That somehow clears very little up but okay.” You nod your head. Why did he take Rachel to Ohio? And who the fuck leaves Gotham to go to Detroit? And how the hell did they end up here? Nothing makes sense but you’re just gonna let it go for now. "So, did you and Jason know each other then? Both from Gotham and ended up here, seems like under better circumstances than us."

Dick shakes his head, taking a sip from his mug. "No, we just...know the same guy."

You narrow your eyes at him, grabbing your own mug and taking a sip. Bruce. It sounds stupid to you because you’re just fishing for information now. But, Dick knows a Bruce from Gotham. Bruce Wayne lives in Gotham. Bruce Wayne adopted a Dick Grayson who, if rumor is right, became a detective. Jason can fight, assuming Dick can, too that's a bit weird. Gotham doesn't breed heroes usually.

"So....what? You both raised for Bruce Wayne or something?"

"What makes you think that?" Dick chuckles, wondering why you'd come to that conclusion.

"Your name is Dick and Bruce took in a kid named Dick Grayson like twenty years ago. Rumor was he left to become a detective or something." You state, taking another drink of your coffee. "Kind of public information."

"Yeah," Dick chuckles. "Yeah, Bruce Wayne took me in."

"Interesting." You hum, looking at your dark coffee.

You feel like you’re having a fever dream. You cannot possibly be talking to a fucking Robin. That doesn't make any sense and at this point, you’re completely convinced the sleep deprivation has kicked in. But you’ve done your share of research into Batman and Robin. It's always been this mystery. Who's behind the masks? You don't like mysteries and you could never figure out the motive behind them. Why start saving people if not to kill the real problems of Gotham? It's not like they were taking down petty thieves or something, they were dealing with real grade-A psychos. But, maybe Bruce Wayne makes sense. He has the money to pull it off.

"So...your thing is combat?" You question, silently fact-checking yourself.

"It is." Dick nods once.

"You're older than me...." You trail off and Dick watches you, waiting to see where exactly you’re going with this. He doesn't mind you figuring it out, but he does think it's interesting that you’re openly figuring it out in front of him. Maybe it'll help you trust him a little more.

There are tons of videos and pictures of Batman and Robin fighting the bad guys. One of your past times was watching the Robin-centric ones, something about him being a sidekick seemed odd. He always seemed to hold himself just fine and Batman didn't seem like he needed some sidekick. It was weird but you watched because you were curious who they were and how they could fight. But now you’re here with Dick Grayson who was raised by Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson is taking in kids with superpowers. And you always thought a new Robin came in at the end. Fighting style was different and there was a big height difference.

"Are you Robin and is Bruce Wayne Batman?" You ask, your voice is a little loud as if to not believe you’re asking that question.

Dick laughs. "You got me." Dick smiles at you. "I'm not Robin anymore, though."

"Jason, right? He took over?" You verify and if this were two years ago, you’d be freaking out. As much as you do not get the whole thing, it was still really cool to be in the same city as Robin and Batman. They’re actual heroes. But, this is now.

"He did." Dick nods, almost impressed you figured it out after less than a day of being at the tower. “How’d you figure it out? Was it that obvious?” He asks.

“No,” You let out a mix of a huff and a laugh. “It was more of a shot in the dark. You shoot enough times, you’re bound to hit something.”

“Alright.” Dick laughs softly. “Fair enough.”

"Cool." You say, pushing off of the counter you were leaning against, choosing to leave with this new information.

"That it?" Dick asks, amused by your reaction.

You pause with a shrug. "Yep." Your word is short and sharp as you go to walk away before stopping. Actually, it bothers you. At the end of the day, Dick Grayson, the original Robin is standing in front of you and it bothers you. It’s cool, of course because he was Robin but above everything, it doesn’t sit right. "Actually, I got a fucking question." You turn to face him.

"Okay." Dick gives you a questionable expression, not sure where the change of tone came from.

"Why didn't you guys just kill the fucking Joker?"

Dick looks down, almost as if he's ashamed of the answer. "We're heroes, we don't kill people."

"Right, okay," You suck in a breath, feeling the fire in your stomach boil and your hands growing warm. "So, as heroes, your response is to just keep letting that fucked up, psycho clown roam around Gotham and keep killing innocent people like some sort of sick Saw movie?" You snap, your voice raising with every word.

In some sick and vengeful way, after your mom was killed, you got it. In a way, you understood how people become villains. Not villains to the actual villains, but villains to the heroes because it is their job to protect those who cannot protect themselves. It is their job and allowing people like The Joker to just keep escaping and killing more and more and more people, that’s not heroism. It’s cowardly.

"It's not like that." Dick sighs, realizing this has backfired greatly. "We can't go around being the judge, jury, and executioner. It's a dangerous road you don't want to go down. Trust me."

"Right, except he didn't kill your parents, right?" You ask, feeling the water brim behind her eyes and then the feeling of hot coffee stings your hands, the mug melting with your grip. The rest of the mug slips from your hands, shattering on the floor.

"Hey," Dick puts his mug down quickly, rushing over to you.

"It's fine." You look at your hands, the glowing of green starts to fade. You walk over to the garbage, tossing the remainder of the mug into the trash. "I'll clean it up, sorry." You barely look at Dick as you grab paper towels, wetting them and ignoring the shaking of your hands.

You always thought you had a lot of control over it or that you would at least notice if you were using your powers but you didn’t. It’s shameful and embarrassing. It was an accident and accidents happen but the very idea of not being able to control your powers just because you’re mad is terrifying. What if you get mad at someone and use your powers and hurt them?

"It's okay." Dick takes them from you. "I got it. Are you okay?" There are no hints of anger across his face or in his voice. He just looks worried.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You shake your head, no burn or blood in sight, your hands no longer glowing. "It doesn't hurt."

"What happened?" Gar asks, strolling into the kitchen, seeing you and Dick look like you were in the middle of something serious, although you were kind of hard to ignore. It got a little loud at the end of your argument. That’s why Gar is walking in.

"Dropped a mug." You keep your stare on Dick, lying to Gar. You brush past Dick and then past Gar. You just wanna run away from it all. Sometimes, things are too much and you wanna run as fast as your legs will let you go.

"Y/n." Dick calls.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, okay?" You stop just long enough to look back at Dick. "Just let me know when we're leaving." You mutter before walking back down the hallway and to your room.

Gar watches you and then looks back to Dick. He doesn't have any idea what he walked into and now he just feels awkward but he feels bad for you. You seemed really upset and you sounded upset when you were yelling at Dick. He heard you asking Dick if the Joker killed his parents. Of course, Gar knows what happened from last night but hearing that kind of reaction doesn't sit quite right. They're all just a bunch of kids. Kids who don't deserve to be in pain.

"You okay, Dick?" Gar asks walking over to him as Dick cleans up the spilled coffee.

"Yeah, it's okay, Gar." Dick assures him.

Gar nods. "What happened?"

"It was accident." Dick says.

"I mean...I heard you guys. I wouldn't be surprised if you woke up Rachel and Jason, too."

"Shit." Dick sighs, standing back up. "It'll be alright, she's just going through a lot. Just give her some time." Dick gives Gar a soft smile before throwing the paper towels away and grabbing a few more.

Gar nods, looking to the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Gar knows what it's like to be alone in grief. It's hard and scary. Even having someone to just sit with him would have been easier but he was just thrown into a manor with a bunch of older people who didn't get him. He was only even there because he could suddenly turn into a tiger. Maybe he should leave it alone but he can't. He just wants you to know it's going to be okay.

Gar grabs himself a bowl of cereal and makes a plant-based drink for the morning. He waits in the kitchen, slowly eating as Dick eats his own breakfast. Dick told him to leave you alone and he's not going to do that but he doesn't want Dick to know. He doesn't really like going against what an authority figure says, even though he does it anyway. It's more the getting caught that he doesn't like. But what else is he supposed to do?

After Dick leaves, Gar waits a few more minutes then hops off his chair and heads down the hallway. Dick went the opposite way so Gar walks with ease down the hall and to your room. The door is shut and he can hear the TV playing softly. He picks up his fist and knocks softly. He waits, shifting his weight from his toes to his heels, almost expecting you to either tell him to go away or open the door and slam it. But you don't.

"Hey." Gar gives you a kind smile as you open the door.

"H-hey?" You ask.

Gar sucks in a breath. "Are you okay?" He asks.

You deadpan. "I would be a hell of a lot better if I wasn't asked that again today." You snark, watching the disappointment in Gar's face. "I'm sorry. I--I-do you wanna come in?" You ask, opening the door fully and Gar nods, leaving the door open as he follows you to the couch you and Rachel sat on the night before. "I've got some issues with Robin and Batman." You admit as you sit down.

Gar looks a little too concerned for your liking so you talk. If you talk, maybe he won't be so concerned and a part of you wants to know if it's a you thing. Everyone always seem to love them both, Robin and Batman, and they can do no wrong, they even helped the GCPD. You have thought for a while that maybe your disdain isn't justified and maybe it's not. Maybe killing people, even people like the Joker is wrong but what else is there to do? Because Batman and Robin didn't do anything to fix Arkham. If they don't fix Arkham, what else is there to stop these people like the Joker who get out and they kill every single time without fail? It's like it's a sick little game. He's Jigsaw and Batman is the cop trying to find him, everyone else is stuck playing the Saw games.

Gar nods. "Because the Joker killed your parents?" Gar asks, pretending like he doesn't know anything. "I overheard."

You nod. "My mom. I-uh, I was...I was at the movies with a friend. I got the notification that Joker was out again...killing people....same place my mom was that night." Your chin wrinkles as you swallow the lump in your throat.

That moment, you knew. You called your mom a hundred times but there's a pit that forms in your stomach when you just know someone didn't make it. Someone you care for. It's not anxiety or being pessimistic, there is a pit that grows and you just know. You knew but you called and called and called. The phone rang and rang until it died. Gotham PD showed up on your friend's house the next day and told you. They wanted to take you and do the whole foster care situation right away but your friend's mom convinced them to give you a day with them first. You fled that night. The night your mom died was the last night you ever felt safe. It was the night you felt something that wasn't sad or angry. It was the last night you weren't haunted.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n." Gar's brows wrinkle, the knot in his stomach growing.

You nod, looking away from him as you try to breathe. "Had they just fucking killed him," Your voice breaks as you look back at Gar and you hate it because this is a weakness. You can't seem vulnerable, not around these people because the second you show your vulnerability, it's so much easy to be used and manipulated. But you can't help it. "She would be alive but they just....called Arkham good enough." You pause. "It's not fair." It’s a choked whine that leaves your throat.

You gasp as tears start to flow down your cheeks, the tears burning a few of the cuts on your cheek. Gar moves closer to you and he's hesitant at first because he doesn't know how you'll react but the only thing he knows how to maybe help is to hug you. So, he pulls you into him and wraps his arms around you tightly. You stiffen for a second and it stops you from crying. You haven't been hugged since the night your mom died. It's a weird feeling to have someone hug you but you'd be lying if it didn't feel comforting. And he's very warm and he smells like strawberries and that seems to be the most comforting.

Your favorite fruit is strawberries and every summer, you and your mom would make chocolate-covered strawberries. There isn't a time you can remember when you weren't completely stocked during the summer and it's something you cherish now. Gar smells like strawberries and that small little thing, is the most comforting thing in the world to you right now. So, you just cave into him, sobbing.

The thing about being held captive and tortured is that it's made you hard. Being captured and tortured changed a part of you. You were never so closed off and calloused, always a bit sarcastic and snarky but not like this. Being held stripped you away of the rawness of emotion. It's like it turned you into this fossilized version of yourself. Hard and cold exterior that would just turn to dust if opened up. You’re only a memory of the person you used to be, sitting here and crying to Gar is just the visual representation of who you were before the big bang. And it hurts, it is agonizing but something about the way he's just letting you cry into him feels cathartic. You’re not in that basement anymore. Your wrists are free. You are free. And you can show all of your emotions without fear of repercussions from it. You’re allowed to be scared and angry and sad and happy. You don't have to hide anymore.

"S-sorry." You pull away, wiping your eye and wincing at the pain from the bruising of your right eye.

"It's okay." Gar assures you, still having his arms around you loosely. "I, uh, I get it." He looks away for a second, pulling his arms back as if realizing he doesn't need to hug you anymore. "My parents died, too."

You watch the normally cheery boy, square his jar and go distant with his stare. "I'm sorry." You sniffle. "What happened?"

Gar sucks in a breath, sitting back against the back of the couch. "Same mysterious disease I had but they didn't make it."

You nod, matching his position and tugging the sleeves over your hands. That explains part of how he ended here. He really doesn’t have anyone, just like you. "I'm really sorry. That sucks."

Gar nods. "Yeah, but, uh, it's okay because I'm here and this is a family. It's not the same but," Gar tilts his head back and forth a few times, looking for the words. "It's really nice if you give it a chance. Dick isn't out to get you or any of us."

"I didn't mean what I said." You say honestly. "I mean, I want the Joker dead, he's a fucking piece of shit sad excuse of a human but...I mean just about Dick. He's been nice."

Gar offers you a side smile. "Yeah, he's a cool dude." Gar chuckles softly. “He kind of takes getting used to, too.” Gar jokes a little. Dick sometimes comes off as cold but Gar has kind of figured that’s just what being raised by Bruce gets you. Jason is like that, too and Gar doesn't think it’s a coincidence.

"Thank you." You give him a sad and small smile. "You're like...a really nice person."

Gar huffs with a chuckle, looking away from you and all he can think is that someone has to be nice around here. Dick is sometimes...well a dick. Jason is an asshole. Rachel sometimes can be a little bit of a bitch to Dick and Jason, usually deserved but a bitch nonetheless. He has to be the nice one even if he wanted to get nasty. That would just cause more tension and Gar doesn't like tension.

"Thanks." Gar sighs, looking around your room. "Are you gonna decorate today?" He asks looking back to you, changing the subject and hoping to make you feel better.

You shrug a shoulder. "I dunno. Not sure if Dick really wants to take me shopping after that." You laugh softly. "I don't know how I feel about it, anyway. Feels....really fucking weird."

"Yeah," Gar nods in agreement. "But he just wants you to have a space of your own, that's what he told Rachel and me when he took us in. He'll give you a spending limit."

"Is this Annie or something?" You quip.

Gar tilts his head back with a laugh. "Well, it's a hard 'nough life for us." Gar says with a smile.

You let out a genuine laugh and it makes Gar's face light up. Your laugh is bubbly and loud, almost booming. It's a bit contagious actually and it makes Gar have a little bit of a sigh of relief. If you’re laughing, there's hope for you, especially after that whole talk you just had. You’re funny.

"You're funny, ya know?" You ask once your laughter calms down.

"Oh..." Gar shifts his sheet, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. "You, uh, you think so?" He gains a cheesy and awkward smile making you giggle a little.

"Yeah! Of course, I do." You smile sweetly at him.

"Hey, do you wanna play Xbox?" Gar asks, enthusiasm in his voice. He likes talking to you and you seem like you’re doing better talking. Plus, video games are what Gar always uses to escape from all the shit, maybe it’ll help you.

"I have literally never played Xbox in my life." You blink at him before gaining a smirk.

"Excuse me?" Gar's eyes widen. How have you never played Xbox? He's certain it's the best gaming system to exist.

"Always a big fan of PlayStation." You laugh, finding his shocked expression funny. He does wear his emotions on his sleeve. "But...I guess I could make an exception for you." You give him a corned grin, watching him shift again. Something about certain things you say make him nervous and you kind of like the bubbles that form in your stomach when it happens.

"Okay, okay." Gar stands up quickly, gesturing for your to follow his lead. "I'll change your mind."

You do as he directs. "You have a lot of confidence." You pat his shoulder.

Gar's eyes narrow slightly. "I...can't tell if you're being serious."

You laugh once more. "Eh, half and half." You shrug a shoulder.

"Right." Gar nods, keeping his eyes narrow but there's a smile tugging at his lips. "Come on." He nods his head in the direction of the door, reaching for your hand. You take it without hesitation and he leads you to his room.

The day goes by, Dick looking for you, he finds you with Gar in his room a few hours later. You had left the door open so it wasn't too hard to find you. You were both yelling, very excitedly at the TV and when Dick found you, you were plopped in two chairs beside each other, a control in each hand. You both were laughing and Dick never would have known you were new to the tower by how comfortable you looked and it gave him some hope. There's some type of hope for you. No one is ever just some lost cause. Dick hated to break it up but Jason and Rachel were already waiting for Gar in the training room.

While the others trained, Dick and you went on your shopping run. Dick took you to a few stores to pick out a few outfits, pajamas, training clothes, and just a few things for your room. It was weird for you to just be out in the open, shopping as if you weren't just held captive the day before. But, something about Dick did feel safe. Maybe it was the fact he was Robin. He might have helped the Joker stay alive by simply not killing him, but he did put him away several times. And, now you have somewhere to run to if Jerry happens to show up.

But that's not all. It was just bizarre to have this stranger buy you things. You were never one that really liked accepting things from people like this. Presents, sure. Everyone likes presents but this just felt like charity and it took everything in you to refrain from snarky comments the whole time. But you did it and you had a good time. You got some take out and you got to actually have one of your favorite take out foods. Dick didn't ask about how much you lit up at the thought of it for lunch, he already had an idea why. He figured maybe it'd be better to leave all of that alone and just have a few hours to let you just be.

"So," Dick asks as he drives them back to the tower.

"So." You state, looking over at him. He just has this look like he wants to ask questions. "Okay." You sigh. "Ask the question you want and I will not give you a bullshit answer."

Dick chuckles. "Alright," He nods. "How much control do you have of your powers?"

You look ahead of them as your light turns red. "This much." You open the palms of your hands, the palms turning green. Then, you close them, the green fading. You do this a few times with ease, ending with spirit fingers, your hands glowing a neon green. "Why?"

Dick's brows are furrowed. "Just curious, how do you do that?" He pauses. "What about the mug this morning?"

"Control or the whole acid thing?" You shrug, looking in front of you. "And apparently, my mom and the Joker are major triggers, learn something new every day, I guess."

"Understandable. And both, I guess."

"Uh...control well. I was traumatized." You scoff. "Control is easy when you're in a life or death situation. I mean...like learning it. Don't have a fucking choice if you wanna live. The acid though, uh-huh." You shrug. "I think about it I guess and then it just happens."

You remember when you found out you could produce acid. You were mad at Jerry for injecting you and then getting mad at you for it. It was about seven months after living with him and at that point, you were just so sick and tired of it all. All you wanted was to rip Jerry’s throat out with your bare hands. And then, your hands starting glowing, acid leaking from your palms. It was a shock, for sure, but it was a bigger shock that Jerry didn’t realize the chemical burn on the floor was from you. He just thought he spilled something and hadn’t noticed it prior. You considered some kind of weird luck. From there, it was just making sure it never happened in front of him.

Dick hums to himself. "Think you could try and show Rachel how you control it?"

"Uh...sure?" You question him. "Isn't that like...your job, Bat Boy?"

"I don't have powers like you guys." Dick states, the light turning green. "Rachel's powers are just really strong and she's had a lot happen recently."

"I have heard." You sigh. "I mean...I can try." There's a sense of empowerment you feel with Dick asking for help with Rachel. He trusts you, at least a little bit which is kind of nice. "I-it's just...I-I melted a mug today. I don't have that much control, apparently."

He nods with understanding. "You have enough to help."

"Well, alright then. Does that mean I get to learn to fight?" You give him a hopeful smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"Great." You give him a thumbs-up even though he’s watching the road.

"Are you lying?"

"Yes, yes I am." You laugh softly. "Uh....my face is still pretty sore. Arms and legs still feel a bit weak...." Your eyes go distant as you stare in front of you, flashbacks of the torture clouding your vision and the endless cycle of either not being given food or given the bare minimum.

"You need to get better first." Dick states, his voice unwavering.

"Shouldn't I still be preparing though? Like...I don't know. Small stuff."

"Not yet."

You sigh but don't fight him. Jason owes you one for the bet. If Dick doesn't think you’re strong enough to at least learn something, you'll just ask him. He don't seem like one to follow the rules anyway. It’s just a precaution to protect yourself, just in case.

When you get back to the tower, Dick helps you bring your stuff to your room. It's not a lot by any means, just some clothes, a few vinyls, and some art for your walls. Dick leaves you to yourself and you look around your room, gaining a genuine, happy smile. This is your space to make yours so you get to work.

You dig out a Fall Out Boy vinyl from one of the bags and put it on the record player that was already in your room. You turn it up as loud as it will go, the sound of music feeling almost riveting. Another thing you’ve missed more than you actually realized and then you start getting your room together.

A few hours go by and your room is coming along. You’ve moved a few things around and got your posters hung up. It doesn't feel quite like home yet but Dick said if you stay, you can get more stuff to make it more yours later. So, this is a start and it fills your chest with a sense of warmth as you look around until there's a knock on your door. You turn the music down before opening the door and you’re met by Gar in a green pullover and black joggers.

Gar's eyes glance behind tiy and then back to you. "Hey, uh." He scratches the back of his neck. "We do movie night in the living room sometimes, did you wanna join? Rachel and Jason are in there now."

"Uh..." You stutter. They do movie nights? Is this really some found family shit? The way everyone talks about Jason you find it a little hard to believe he'd actually part-take in any group activity that didn't involve punching each other. But you don't have anything to lose. If you want to stay, that also involves effort from you and Gar will be there. "Sure." You give a soft smile before walking over to your bed and grabbing Gar's hoodie. "Thanks." You hand it back to him and he gives you a closed smile, raising the fabric to say you’re welcome.

"Anytime." Gar smiles, jerking his head towards the living room. "I'm gonna put this away, meet you in here?"

"Okay." You say with ease before turning on your heels, heading down the hallway and Gar can't help but watch you with a goofy smile.

You just have on black sweatpants and a pink hoodie but you look comfortable and you didn't look annoyed when you opened the door. That seems to be your general state of mind, annoyed. From what Gar has seen. Of course, you’ve loosened up when he's talked to you but you always looks very annoyed beforehand.

You walk into the living room seeing Rachel all the way to the left and Jason sitting all the way to the right, facing the fireplace. They truly could not be any more apart, eyes on the TV that's mounted above the fireplace and you find it a little comedic. They must really hate each other. So, you take a seat by Jason, mostly because you think it's funny to bug him and you could just tell sitting by him would irritate him. Plus, that leaves room for Gar to sit on the other side between you and Rachel.

"Can I fucking help you?" Jason snarks as he looks to you.

"What're we watching?" You ask, an innocent smile pulling at your lips.

"It's Jason's turn so probably something gory." Rachel remarks with wide eyes laced with annoyance.

Jason turns to face you, which moves him a little too close to you. His eyes look you up and down, just once before landing on your eyes. "Don't worry, if you get scared, I'll protect you."

Rachel nearly rolls her eyes into the back of her head with Jason's comment, fake gagging while you sit with your mouth slightly ajar, nose scrunched and forehead wrinkled. You sit somewhere between appalled and grossed out. This kid surely has never dated a single human. There's just no fucking way with the lines he pulls. But you shut your eyes for a second, choosing to not even play into that game. Instead, you’re gonna play your own.

"What movies were you thinking?" You ask, matching Jason's position, knee bent and flat on the couch, you facing him as your knees touch.

Jason gains a smirk in just the left corner of his mouth. "We could watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Hostel, or Saw IV."

His stare is directly at you and it's a taunt. But you find it funny, not even bothered by the distaste of his comment, in fact, he plays into your hand. He thinks you need protecting from a horror movie and that of all people here, you'd go to him? When Gar is right there?

"Texas is a classic, assuming you don't mean the shitty ass remake from 2003. Hostel's alright if you're into Eli Roth. Saw series has always been good gore. Never quite cross that line into torture porn." You smile at him, it's a sweet smile while you lean your elbow on the back of the couch and Rachel sits behind you completely entertained. All she can think is that they needed someone who can match Jason's energy.

Jason's face softens, just for a split second. Your response caught him off guard and he was so sure you'd be against watching any of those. He thought maybe he'd get a rise out of you for suggesting them or offering to protect you or maybe get something better than that out of it. But all he got was whatever that was. It was his turn and those were the three he was considering but Gar and Rachel don't really like the movies. He assumed you wouldn't either, especially if what they found on the computer the night before means what they think it means.

Gar comes in a few seconds later, seeing you and Jason facing each other in a way that almost seems like some weird face-off staring contest at this point. He glances at Rachel who shrugs but she has a smirk that's begging to be broken into a laugh. Just a tint of burning coats Gar's stomach as he sees the two of you and he knows what it is but he pushes it down. He shakes his head and walks up to you.

"Everything okay?" He asks, his voice cautious as he looks between the two of you before sitting on the opposite side of you.

"Fine," Jason mumbles, finally breaking the stare and sitting normally on the couch before grabbing the remote. "Saw it is."

"Ugh, why do you always pick gory movies, dude?" Gar groans, tilting his head back.

"Don't like gore?" You ask with a laugh.

"You do?!" Gar's head shoots back up, a grimace on his face. He doesn't mind it in older films, the effects weren't great then. But the newer ones tend to turn his stomach. Horror is great, but gore? Not Gar's favorite.

"Yeah, of course. They're fun." You shrug, switching to sit forward, pulling your legs up under you and Gar keeps the grimace on his face. "What?"

"He doesn't know why anyone wants to volunteer to watch gore." Rachel snickers.

"Because you can shut the movie off whenever you get too scared and the effects are cool." You shrug and it makes Gar give you a shy smile. "I can hold your hand if you want?" If you said it to Jason, it would have been sarcastic and rude but with Gar, it was a genuine and sincere offer.

Gar's cheeks burn with the offer and his stomach flips, unlike you and Rachel, he didn't find the offer a bit cringey or lame. Your smile is gentle and sweet like honey until you realize that you just pulled what Jason did and it seems you realize it the same time Jason does.

"Did you just take my fucking line?" Jason scoffs.

"No, yours was weird, mine was nice." You retort, internally kicking yourself for it.

"It's okay." Gar whisper, shifting in his seat a little. He was never really good about things that might be flirting or not flirting and just being nice. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." You smile softly at him, your heart sinking a little.

"Okay, turn on the movie." Rachel looks between the three of you, not sure what the hell is going on there and not even wanting to know.

Jason turns the movie on without any further argument. The four of you settle into your spots as the movie starts to play and despite the fact you’ve been at the tower for just over twenty-four hours now, you feeling pretty comfortable around them. The three of them make it easy. None of them feel threatening, even with two of them having powers. They don't feel "special" as Dick put it. All three of them just feel normal and normalcy is something you’ve craved for two years.

And then there's Gar who can't keep his eyes on the moving, partially because he finds the gore a bit nauseating but also because he can feel you glance at him every now and then. He can't tell if the glances are because he doesn't like the movie so maybe you’re checking on him which is a strange thought, that's kind of his job. Or maybe it's because he's sitting too close to you, he doesn't feel like he is. When Gar looks over, it looks like he's sitting just as far away as Jason is so maybe that isn't it. The one thing he does know is that he doesn't mind you glancing at him.

The lack of sleep for you, however, is definitely catching up to you. Your eyes are weighed down, heart rate is slowing down and you just feel like maybe you could rest your eyes for a few minutes. Saw IV isn't even one of your favorite Saw movies, you won't miss much. And the next thing Gar knows, your head falls onto his shoulder. He straightens his back quickly when it happens, catching him off guard but then he looks at you, asleep and he doesn't have the heart to wake you up. A caring small comes to Gar's lips as he looks back to the TV and he kind of likes your head on his shoulder. Maybe it means you trust him and after everything, he can only imagine what you’ve been through, that's kind of a big deal on day two.

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series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Tag list: @italiana-20 // @fairyofshampoo // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders

#gar logan #jason todd #gar logan x reader #garfield logan x reader #jason todd x reader #gar logan fanfic #gar logan fanfiction #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #caving in

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masturshake · 1 year

Text

Like the moment Din Djarin and Bo-Katan looked at each other my brain was like “YOU’RE SHIPPING THEM YOU’RE SHIPPING THEM YOU’RE SHIPPING THEM YOURE SHIPPING THEMMMMMMMM”

And knowing how negative some Star Wars fans can be cause I literally shipped them from that single moment of them saving Din and Grogu on the boat, so I kept that shit to myself and scoured AO3 and FF(.)Net for any crumbs of fics alone while keeping to myself due to just me not wanting to speak up.

So imagine how happy I am seeing this ship grow and morph before my eyes. My Din and Bo figures who I’ve had for a while now finally don’t seem out of place, me downloading Star Wars Galaxy of Heroes just to unlock and build around those two(Which is a hell of a grind). I’m so excited for the future of this ship and the fans it has built around it. This ship reminds me of my first OTP Yorkalina which is a sunken ship so yeah seeing this one set sail is beautiful!

To all the fanfic writers of this ship, Thank you!

To all the amazing artists depicting this ship Thank you!

To everyone just supporting this ship and being there for it! Thank you from the bottom of my heart cause even if I don’t interact in the tags or with many people, I finally don’t feel alone and feel happy with it!

Love you all!

This is the way.

#dinbo #din djarin x bo katan kryze #din x bo #the mandolarian #din djarin #bo katan x din #bo katan kryze #bo katan kryze x din djarin

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master-ray5 · 3 months

Note

For the controversial ship asks: 🌹💔💩 👀💖

Ship that you have as an OTP: 🌹

Mamoru x Usagi: These two will always be my OTP. They taught me love at a time when I was not seeing it in the world around me.

Ship that makes you sad: 💔

Usagi x Seiya: I have the inability to separate this ship from the canon and this pairing only leaves poor Mamoru alone when he doesn’t deserve such an outcome.

Ship that you find disgusting: 💩

Not fully disgusting but I have a soft spot for the “Redeemed villains and Cinnamon rolls” dynamic. Ex: Discord x Fluttershy. That being said, the “Unredeemed villain being paired with a Cinnamon Roll” annoys the HELL about me. Ex: Sephiroth x Aerith, Usagi x Diamande

Ship you’re curious about: 👀

Yor x Loid: I mean I am reading the manga and I am actively hoping they end up together but I haven’t really explored much of their relationship in fandom. I should probably look for some fanfics of the two.

Ship that needs more love: 💖

-Doom Guy and Isabelle: I mean I wrote a fanfic of this pairing specifically because I feel like they are an adorable pairing and I wanted to see more of it. I would really like more material of them out there. Maybe I should…

#bishoujo senshi sailor moon #pretty guardian sailor moon #sailor moon fanfiction #pretty soldier sailor moon #usagi x mamoru #sailor moon fandom #mamoru x usagi #isabelle x doom guy #animal crossing x doom #doomguy #doom slayer #yor forger #yor x loid #loid x yor #spy x family #discord x fluttershy

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starfall-spirit · 1 year

Text

On the Edge of Losing You

Thank you @azrielshadowssing for organizing the Summer ACOTAR Writing Circle. This is my first time participating, and my first collab fic in general. I am thrilled to be kicking this off with my OTP, Feysand. Writers of part two and three, you are more than welcome to reuse the banner I created or make your own if you don’t like my theme.

Also a huge thanks to my beta readers, @deepsleep07 and @headcanonheadcase for the critique that really helped form this piece. Without further ado, I hope you all enjoy it!

Summary: Feyre and Tamlin are set to say their I dos on the beautiful beaches of Cancún. The problem—Feyre's wedding jitters have escalated to the revival of a crush on her best friend a few days before the wedding.

CW: None

Word Count: 3,318

Part 2 (@thegloweringcastle) // Part 3 (TBA) // Ao3

Chapter I: Do I Say I Do?

“Careful, Rhys. Someone might start thinking you have ill intentions.” He knew Feyre had sensed him the second he appeared on the surf, lingering a few feet from where she lounged in her beach chair that sat low to the ground, her long legs extended so her feet were cooled by the rising tide.

Haloed by the July sun wearing only her bikini she looked… He wasn’t ready to think about how Feyre looked. Not with that sun glinting off an emerald-topped engagement band she never took off. Not with her fiancé throwing a fit every time Rhys was within a ten mile radius of her. For someone who had secured an engagement and was beginning his vacation that preluded a disgustingly grand destination wedding, Tamlin failed to view Rhys as anything other than a threat.

He snagged a camping chair and set it so it sat parallel to hers and he wouldn’t have to get so low to the ground to join her. “You’re looking a bit pink already. You know you’re hopeless when it comes to tanning, don’t you?”

Her lips turned up into a small smile as she rose to a sitting position. “I took a dip earlier. And it’s been a few hours since I applied.”

He took the sunscreen bottle from the pocket of his chair and passed it to her. “No need to be burnt on your wedding day.”

Her eyes snapped back to him, the set of her mouth telling him she didn’t approve of the bitter note in his voice. “Rhys—”

“I know. He’s perfect and hasn’t shown any of the red flags I mentioned from the moment you met, right?”

“Rhys!” She was red-faced for an entirely different reason now. “You are my best friend, but it is not your place to worry about my marriage.” She took his hands in hers. “You are my best friend,” she repeated, “and he will be my husband in a matter of days. I want both of you in my life. But this tension between you has to be resolved.”

This tension. A kind way of putting Rhys’ loose tongue about all of the faults he saw in his best friend’s fiance. And Feyre, stubborn as she was, refused to listen to him this time. He didn’t want to control her. He just wanted her to see sense.

“Right. Call me when he doesn’t find a guy talking to you to be a criminal offense.”

“He’s protective,” she insisted, breaking eye contact as she rubbed the sunscreen into her arms. “There’s nothing wrong with protecting someone you love.” He opened his mouth to argue again. “I’m done with this, Rhys. We can speak pleasantly or you can leave.” She sighed, turning to bare her back to him as lifted her braid. “Help me with my back please.”

Fuck. After the conversation they just had about her “protective” fiancé? He really didn’t feel like dealing with the huffing and puffing today. “Feyre, seriously?”

“Oh stop it. It’s never been a problem before now. I always miss spots if I do it alone. If Tamlin’s your concern he won’t be back for a while. Even if he was, he’d see reason.” He didn’t think either of them really believed that. “It’s not a problem.”

No, it hadn’t been a problem. Then they'd gotten older and he found himself crushing on her. And that crush grew. They hit their teens and his sweet friend who was once all knees and elbows from too few meals was standing in her prom dress, taking his breath away.

His mother had made sure Feyre and her sisters were cared for when she saw the signs the Archeron family tried so hard to hide. Things got better, even if their father took it as an insult until the day he died. Their father’s feelings aside, they made friends and had food in their bellies. And Rhys bonded with all of them. But things had always run deeper with Feyre. Her older sisters teased and teased her for it as children, but there had never been anything to act on.

She had been objectively attractive, of course. More so than her sisters. But one doesn’t think that of their best friend. Rhys didn’t let himself think that way. Not until she came down those stairs on prom night. He could remember every detail, a girl of sixteen attending the school dance in his senior year. She was a vision in a gown of midnight blue and silver.

He finally saw her as a woman he hadn’t been able to look back since. Even after he graduated and the world pushed them apart for years on end. There had been other women, college flings and bar hookups. But none of them were Feyre.

Here they were at twenty-six and twenty-eight, both a little wiser and in control of their own lives. And the honest truth was he couldn’t focus on anything around her. If she hadn’t announced she was dating Tamlin six months ago, he might have acted on those growing feelings by now. Yet here they were, lounging on the private beach in Cancún with a whirlwind romance dropping Feyre at that altar. If she couldn’t see the timeframe as a red flag he didn’t think anything would change her mind.

“Rhys.”

Scanning the beach for the blond bastard, he obeyed, rubbing the sunscreen into her back as quickly as he could, trying very hard not to think about how he really wanted to run his hands over her. Slowly, not leaving an inch of skin unmapped. He shook the thought away. “There. You should be covered.”

“Thanks.” She offered him the bottle. “Need some?”

“Sure.” He came here to hang out, after all.

She leaned back in her chair again, folding one arm behind her head. “So, what took you so long to fly in?”

He chuckled. “Other than the fact I’m a full time professor in the height of summer courses, grading a buttload of essays for Astronomy 101? Some of those students…” He shook his head.

“Girls?” Feyre asked with a knowing smirk. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the rest of her assumption. “You’re the youngest teacher in the department, Rhys. They’re failing because they're staring at your pretty face instead of the whiteboard.”

He snorted, not ready to admit there had been a student or two who scrawled a ten digit number on the back of their final. “Yeah, well, flirting never got anyone an A.” He squeezed her hand. “I got here as fast as I could. Whatever disagreements I may have with Tamlin, you know I wouldn’t miss this. I said I’d be there for you through everything good and bad. This fits the bill.”

Even if he pictured himself on Tamlin’s side of the altar every time he saw the wedding invitation on his apartment’s fridge door. “I wanted to ask you—”

Before she could finish, a high-pitched squeal pierced the air. “About time! Get over here!”

Feyre jumped as white sand sprayed up onto her, clinging to the fresh sunscreen. “Mor, really!”

He saw a flash of blonde before his cousin was barreling into his arms, giggling maniacally. With her traveling so much it had been an age since they saw each other. It had been her dream to explore the best of life overseas and it seemed to do her some good. But then, any freedom must feel like heaven, growing up with a father like Kier. There were many days Rhys still ached to throttle his uncle for keeping Mor on such a tight leash. The stern hand his own father took seemed forgiving when his cousin finally opened up about everything in their early college days. Feyre had been the one to pry it out of her, simultaneously convincing Mor to lean on the found family who cared about her so much.

She was better for it now, bright-eyed and cheerful most days they talked in person or on a video chat. “Where’s Cassian and Az?” she asked. “They were here an hour ago.”

“Looking for some activities. You know it’s a crime asking men to just relax on the beach,” Feyre jested, picking up some sort of fruity cocktail she’d ordered. How she and Mor could tolerate them was beyond him. “This one’s only sitting here because he feels obligated to be nice to me.”

He frowned. “You know that’s not true. I—”

“Rhysand.” He grimaced at the too-familiar voice behind him, ignoring Feyre’s glare and its silent demand that he keep playing nice. “So glad you could finally join us.” Though his gait could almost be considered casual, there was no denying he was once again using his own body as a barrier between Rhys and Feyre. “Enjoying your stay?”

“I just flew in, but I’m sure it will be a delight. Thank you for so graciously inviting me.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“If you two are finished,” Feyre groaned. “Rhys, can you walk with me for a minute? Just down the beach?”

Tamlin’s body locked, a vicious glare in his eyes aimed at Rhys. How could he turn the lady down now? “It would be my pleasure, Feyre darling.”

She smiled, reaching for her dark cover up, despite the lack of wind and the noon sun beating down. It wasn’t his place to comment on that. Even if he felt it very much was his place to characterize the man his best friend intended to spend the rest of her life sharing a home with.

Feyre was silent at first, watching the birds soaring ahead of them. He didn’t pry, waiting until she was ready to share what needed to be shared. “I love you. You’re my best friend.”

“Yes?”

She swallowed. “So much of this has been planned by… friends. I let things go, when it came to the technicalities of the wedding. Ianthe has been… helpful.” He suppressed a snort. Just days ago, Feyre had been moaning and groaning about how Tamlin’s old friend and apparent officiant couldn’t keep her nose in her own business. “I just…”

He paused, gently taking her hand and squeezing it. “Are things okay? Are you having doubts?”

“About marrying Tamlin? No. I’m just feeling off-kilter I guess. Caught up in a whirlwind of planning and out of control. I just want to hit the pause button and make my own choice on something, but I don’t even know the first thing I’d change. I need an anchor. Something they haven’t thought of yet.”

He furrowed his brow. “And you think I can help?”

“Yes. Before Tamlin sticks it on Lucien or something. I don’t want anyone’s feelings hurt.” He cocked his head. “I don’t have my father anymore. And even if I did… things were strained when I got older. And then he died before things could mend. Rhys, would you walk me down the aisle?”

And if that wasn’t a punch to the gut.

He cast a nervous look over his shoulder. “Feyre, are you sure?”

She nodded, lacing her fingers through his. “It’ll be fine, Rhys. He knows I want you in my life. I know things will get better for you two. And I should have some say in my own wedding, shouldn’t I?”

“Of course, but…” He shook his head. He couldn’t and wouldn’t try to stop the wedding. Feyre was smart. She had to know Tamlin well enough to feel safe if she had agreed to marry him. So he would step aside. He would do this one last thing for her, even if he broke his own heart in the process. “I’d be honored, Feyre.”

~~~~~

“You did what?”

She sighed as she opened the door to the bathroom. “Tamlin, you said you were going to try. You aren’t trying. Not even slightly.”

“That arrogant piece of—”

“My best friend, you mean?”

He let out a huff. “Rhysand,” he hissed, “has no place walking you down the aisle. That’s—”

“That’s whose job, Tamlin? Certainly not my father’s any longer. Or did you expect Lucien who I’ve known for a matter of a few months to do it? Rhys and Mor and Cassian and Az will always be my family. They aren’t going anywhere, no matter how many fits you throw about it.”

“Your sisters are an option, of course.”

“Tamlin, don’t. What’s done is done. On our wedding day Rhys will be my escort. And you will keep your mouth shut about it and keep a smile on your face.”

“You have other friends, Feyre. You and Ianthe get along well.”

“Oh do we? I’m sure you know my feelings so well when it comes to tolerating her.” He reared back. “Ianthe will keep batting her eyes and paying compliments as long as you let her leech off of you, Lucien hasn’t even tried to hug me because you probably threatened to cut his arms off for doing so. Tamlin, you will stop this overbearing asshole behavior or I will not marry you.”

Faster than she could react, he lunged, red-faced and wild-eyed. His grip on her arm was bruising. While she was all fired up and ready to lay things out he had been stewing with every word. “I am doing what’s best for you,” he snarled. And that was the wake up call.

God, had Rhys been right? Was it taking the cogs turning just days before her wedding to see the red flags as Rhys called them?

“You are trying to control me. And I will not let you. Now let me go.” Seemingly in a daze, he uncurled his hand from around her wrist, the pale print from his hand beginning to pinken again. “I’ll be back later.”

“Feyre.”

“I said I’ll be back,” she snapped, shoving her feet into her flip-flops. “Do not follow me and do not send Lucien like some hound on my trail. I need some space.”

One thing. She asked one thing of this wedding and it was that her best friend be more than another name on the absurdly long guest list. What a crime it was. Down where the beach started to soften, she removed her shoes, letting the sand sift through her toes. Minutes or miles she walked with nothing more than her thoughts and a nocturnal choir around her. While the silence might have bothered most, She had always found peace in a quiet night.

Feyre sank to the sand, leaning back on her hands and tilting her head to view the sky above her. She was lucky the busy lights were on the other side of the resort. Here on their side, even with the light pollution day and night she had a chance to enjoy the star-flecked unknown. She was hopeless to identify constellations without her favorite astronomy professor of course, but they were still pretty to look at alone.

“You can see Lupus from here.” She jumped slightly, whipping her head over her shoulder. “Sorry if I startled you. Can I sit with you?” Rhys asked.

“Always.” She sat up so they could sit shoulder to shoulder and he reached for her hand, frowning when she jolted away and rubbed it instinctively. The tenderness there scared her more than she wanted to admit. And Rhys was staring. “What?”

“What’s wrong with your hand?”

“Nothing.”

“Feyre.”

“Rhys.”

“I know you too well to fall for your lies.” She bit her lip, casting her eyes to the ground, only looking back up when he gave a heavy sigh. “Ara.”

“What?”

“Ara, it’s almost straight ahead. And there’s Corvus there.”

“You’re speaking Latin to me.” He snorted at the frankly terrible joke, nudging her shoulder good-naturedly. She slumped against him, exhaustion taking over. “You’re going to have to carry me back,” she mumbled. “In the morning.” He tensed beside her. “I can’t go back there tonight. It would just be weird.”

“Why?” She shrugged. “Feyre.”

“He doesn’t like you.”

His lip curled slightly against her head. “I think I’ll survive.”

“We were fighting over it. You. All of you. He has his bubble, and if he can’t control the people in it… I didn’t realize how deep it ran until I told him you would give me away. I’ve never seen him so…”

The word hung between them as he reached for her wrist again. She wondered if it would bruise by morning. If Ianthe would try to dab a bit of powder over it before Mor showed up and had a cow. Feyre didn’t know what she would do at that point.

“He’s been stressed lately. Between the wedding and work and—”

“Do not make excuses for him.” The edge in his voice put a new heaviness between them. “Do not pretend this is okay, Feyre. You want to know why you’ve never seen him so violent? It’s because cowards like that need control to feel they hold the power. That they’re worth something. He let you speak your mind this long to make sure he had you for good, but the second you say ‘I do’ everything is going to change.”

If Tamlin’s anger was the strike of a storm, Rhys’ was the deadly calm before it. Chilled as death even as those violet eyes glinted against the moon. He twisted in the sand, cupping her face and pressing his brow to hers, as he had done so many times to calm her from her panic. This time he needed that calm.

“Do not make excuses. Do not wait for that stress to go away. And Feyre, please do not marry a man who will free his temper the moment you kiss him on that altar.”

She twisted her lower body to face him fully, stroking a hand over the short stubble at his jaw. It had started as a teasing touch when he was just old enough to start growing facial hair, later a habit she couldn’t resist maintaining. Until she met Tamlin and all the fond habits and touches earned scowls and glares. That hand teasing his stubble rose to run through his hair, a touch to sooth. It still seemed to work.

“All I’m saying is that six months is awfully fast for a wedding,”

“Oh, is that all you’re saying, Rhys?”

She pulled at his hair slightly and his eyes fluttered open again. If she didn’t know better, she would say time had turned back for them. They were kids again and he was taking her to his senior prom, despite her only being a sophomore. Coming home from the dance she’d joked on her front porch that they were at the point where he was supposed to kiss her goodnight.

She’d been the typical sixteen year old, crushing on a senior. Except that senior was her best friend. Romantically off limits was an unspoken rule of friendship to them, no matter what their friends and family thought. But for a moment—one fraction of a second—the world paused, giving her a glimpse of a boy that wanted to kiss her back.

She never saw that boy again.

Until now.

Days before her wedding he was staring at her like she hung the moon. Like she was the only thing keeping his world turning, as ludicrous as that seemed. But god, she wanted someone to want every part of her that badly. Looking into his eyes now, she realized all of the things she’d been compromising.

“Feyre, what are you doing?” Her hands slid down to cup his face. “Feyre.”

Every moral she had was screaming for her to stop. She was an engaged woman and kissing her teenage crush could be the biggest mistake of her life. And yet the devil on her shoulder spurred her on.

And Feyre listened, kissing Rhys for the first time. Only the stars could damn her tonight.

~~~~~

AN: I hope this is alright in length and content for the first part. As I said, this is my first writing circle fic.

Taglist: @goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips // @jealousveronya // @darling-archeron // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow

#acotar #feysand #acotar writing circle #feysand fic #collab fic #part 1 #fanfiction #feyre archeron #rhysand #summer writing circle #acotarwritingcircle

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musingsofvenus · 6 months

Text

Inspired by the first prompt from a height difference OTP prompts list and made for the lovely @the-most-pathetic-edge-marquis! I was originally going to make this a kind-of follow up to To All the Monsters I Loved Before, but it didn't fit the bill. This is some sort of Twilight AU-- a short & cheesy moment that exists outside of canon. 💞

Jacob rushes to the front door after he hears the doorbell ring. As soon as he swings open the door, he’s greeted with a DVD case held inches from his face.

“Tada!” Bella exclaims, grinning ear to ear. Her cheeks and ears are bright red from the cold air.

Sunday afternoons were reserved for their weekly movie night session.

Every week they switch between who gets to pick the next movie to watch. Their typical choices of movies quickly devolved from Bella’s favorite Jane Austen adoptions and Jacob’s classic spaghetti westerns to the most outrageous B-movie horror flicks they could find.

This week is Bella’s week, and she chose a movie called ‘Suburban Sasquatch.’ From the DVD’s cover art alone, Jacob was sure he wouldn’t be able to make it through the first five minutes without hysterically laughing at the poor production quality.

Jacob plucks the DVD from her hands. “Well hello to you too, Bells.”

Bella snickers, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Hello, hello,” she says belatedly. She rests her chin on his chest. For a few seconds, Jacob is flustered into silence by the cute gesture. And Bella, watching him closely, wiggles her eyebrows like she knows. Because of course she knows.

“Your ears are turning red,” she sings.

Jacob covers his traitorous ears and averts his eyes. “They are not!”

Bella falls into a fit of giggles that makes Jacob grin. “Are you gonna let me in before I freeze to death?”

Jacob clears his throat. “You have to pay the toll to enter,” he intones.

Bella releases him to shoulder off her tote bag. She holds it open to reveal several soda cans and an assorted variety of popcorn and cookies. “I come bearing snacks.”

Jacob squints at the contents of her bag. “That’s not enough to cover the toll, Bells. I do accept bribes, though,” he says, tapping his lips with his pointer finger.

“You don’t have to play this game to get me to kiss you, you know? I like kissing you.”

“And I like messing with you.”

“Jacob, come on! It’s really cold,” Bella whines. “I don’t have werewolf powers to keep me warm, unlike some people!”

Jacob opens his arms and sweeps Bella off her feet. “Personal space heater, at your service.”

“Jake! Put me down!”

“How am I supposed to kiss you from all the way down there?”

An indignant blush colors Bella’s cheeks. “Maybe you’re just too high up!”

“If you say so. Now about that bribe-”

He barely gets the question out before Bella leans in to kiss him. It starts off a bit forceful on Bella’s end because of her lingering frustration before she starts to relax. The kiss was just turning soft and sweet before Bella’s hand tangles in his hair, no doubt in an attempt to pull him closer.

Jacob obliges her wordless demand until her fingers brush against the back of his neck. He abruptly pulls away from the kiss with a yelp.

“Your hands are like ice, Bella,” he complains, setting her back down on her feet.

Bella rolls her eyes. “I wonder why, you jerk!” She crosses her arms with a scowl. “You’re lucky that I love you,” she grumbles under her breath.

“What did you say?” He teases, poking her side. “I couldn’t hear you from way up here.”

Bella huffs, looking up at him while a blush spreads across her cheeks. “I said, I love you, you giant idiot.”

Jacob pretends to contemplate her words, nodding to himself. “Yep, I think that just about covers the toll.”

“You’re not saying it back?” Bella pouts, poking her lip out and everything.

“Oh, come on, Bells,” Jacob chuckles, grabbing her icy hands and peppering them with kisses to get rid of the cold. He pulls her into the house. “I love you, too. You know that.”

#im feeling jxb in this chilis tonight #bella x jacob #jacob x bella #them 💗#my writing #the only reason i didn't make it a to all the monsters follow up is bc bella is supposed to be the menace in that AU #but in this it's the opposite #anyways merry chysler #I'm not sure how i feel about this lil fic lmao

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bradshawsbaby · 1 year

Note

For the otp prompts “Catching snowflakes on tongue” with Bobby :)

I want to do this more than anything! 🥹

A weekend ski trip with the Dagger Squad had been a good idea in theory, except for the fact that you didn’t actually know how to ski—a fact which became abundantly clear when you fell and twisted your ankle within ten minutes of being on the bunny hill. You weren’t sure which was more mortifying, the fact that you were the only adult on the hill to begin with, or the humbling experience of having a six-year-old call out, “Mommy, this lady is crying!”

Bob had been by your side in a moment, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you off to the resort’s infirmary, much to your continued embarrassment. Thanks to the stressful nature of his job, your husband was able to remain calm under pressure, but he couldn’t hide the worry flashing in his blue eyes. He always worried when it came to your safety and well-being.

“Thank goodness it isn’t broken,” he murmured in relief once the two of you were back in your hotel room an hour later, your ankle resting in his lap as he gently applied an icepack to reduce the swelling. Not broken, just sprained, the medics had declared.

“I can’t believe I sprained my ankle on the bunny hill,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands in shame.

“Aw, sweetie, don’t be embarrassed,” Bob cooed comfortingly, reaching out with his free hand to pull your hands away from your hot cheeks. “I’m just glad you’re not more seriously hurt. That’s all that matters.”

“I feel like I ruined the trip for you,” you sighed guiltily, wincing as your husband gently massaged the skin around your ankle. “It’s our first day here and you’ve already had to spend most of it taking care of me.”

“Hey,” Bob responded immediately, his voice tender, but firm. “I don’t have to take care of you. I get to take care of you. There’s a difference.” Smiling, he slid his glasses up his nose and then leaned in to brush his lips against yours.

“You’re the best husband, you know that?” you grinned, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him more deeply. Pulling back slightly, you gently caressed his rosy cheeks with your thumbs. “But tomorrow, you’re heading back out to the slopes with your friends. I don’t want you chained up here just because I am.”

Bob started shaking his head in protest before you had even finished your sentence. “Absolutely not. No way am I leaving you here all alone,” he insisted, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Bobby, you hardly ever get time away with your friends, just for fun. I want you to enjoy yourself. And I can’t do anything now,” you shot back, indicating your bum ankle.

Bob was quiet for a moment, glancing out towards the large balcony of your room, which had a fire pit. When you followed his gaze, you realized it had started snowing at some point.

Suddenly smiling, Bob turned back to you. “That’s not true.”

“What?” you asked, blinking at him in confusion.

“It’s not true that you can’t do anything,” he clarified, carefully lifting your injured ankle out of his lap and laying it down on a pillow as he stood up and went to grab his coat. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, pecking you on the lips before you could question him further.

“Bob!” you called out, wishing you could follow him to see what he was up to as he stepped out onto the balcony. Your eyebrows shot up as you watched him start a fire in the pit, making use of the tools supplied by the resort.

Within a few minutes, your husband was back, a light coating of snow covering his hair and shoulders. Beaming like a little kid, he went to grab your coat and the pair of Uggs you were now extra grateful you’d packed, considering it was the only shoe that would fit over your swollen ankle.

“Bobby, what on earth are you doing?” you demanded with wide eyes when your husband began bundling you up, wrapping your coat around you and carefully slipping your Uggs onto your feet.

“You said you can’t do anything while we’re here, but that’s not true,” Bob grinned, sliding one arm beneath your knees and wrapping the other around your back as he lifted you up. “You’ll see,” he winked, carrying you onto the balcony.

Once he’d settled you down in the chair closest to the fire, he sat down as well, pulling his seat closer to yours.

“Honey, I’m confused,” you admitted, looking over at him. “The fire is lovely, but what are we doing out here?”

Bob chuckled, reaching out and taking your hand in his large one. “You might not be able to ski or snowboard or ice skate, but there’s still one thing you can do while it’s snowing,” he said.

“And that would be?”

“Catching snowflakes on your tongue,” he laughed, suddenly sticking his tongue out wide.

Eyes widening, you immediately burst into a fit of giggles. You almost thought your heart would explode from how much you loved this man. Only Bob Floyd would think of starting a fire so that you could come out with a sprained ankle and catch snowflakes on your tongue.

Squeezing your husband’s hand, you stuck your tongue out as well, grinning when a few cold flakes landed on the tip.

“Having fun?” Bob asked a few moments later, brushing some snow out of your hair.

“With you?” you replied, leaning in close to kiss him. “Always.”

January OTP Prompts ❄️

#bob floyd drabble #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman #january writing prompts

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letstrywritingmaybe · 11 months

Text

I am a fangirl first and foremost. Which means I take my role as a reader/supporter very seriously! So naturally I’m participating in @justleaveacommentfest even though ao3 is being wonky. But I’ll shall add to this post as I continue to read (perhaps reread too) and comment for all of my otps (and ships I guess since det co is a weird spot for me)

I have a habit of checking out profiles on ao3, and if a tumblr handle is mentioned I like to tag the author to give them the praise they deserve. But if you’re not cool with that, please let me know and I shall remove the tag

7/10 theme is old fics/new fics:

💛 Romanogers- Take a Time Out by brandnewsoul ( @viewparadise ) posted in 2012!

💛 You and I Walk a Fragile Line by YoureNotDoneFighting posted this year 2023! (On last kiss day!!!)

💚 RobStar- Robin versus the Christmas Shopping by Dahlia_Moon ( @maychild ) posted in 2010!

💚 Someone Important To You by FireMane15 posted this year 2023!

❤️ Duncney- Unexpected by Person posted in 2010!

❤️ Redemption’s Promise by weforgottyler posted this year 2023!

💜 Zutara- aupilaktunnguat by sunandmoongobrr technically 2005? Idk

💜 I Can See You by drakonium (drakonic) posted this year 2023! (On last kiss day!!!)

🖤🤍 Ichiruki- Alone in a Room by tokyofish posted 2004?

🖤🤍 Invisible Monsters by KeiraRyan33 posted this year 2023!

7/11 theme is < 2k words:

💛 Aftermath by angelic_violets ( @starcrossedsongs ) word count: 347

💚 Language barrier by Pachirisu_2014 word count: 773

❤️ It’s A Sign! by the_type_a ( @the-type-a ) word count: 660

💜 Momo and Appa are tired of Zutara by ILoveReadingRomance word count: 480

🖤🤍 Hero and Heroine by kleinegirl87 word count: 478

#my whole heart I’ve missed romanogers so so much like you have no idea #it’s 2023 and I still ship zutara a lot #okay I know it’s technically the 12th here now but I need to sleep so I’ll just continue later #yes I realize I haven’t mentioned all det co fics but to be fair I’ve been good about keeping up with comments for this fandom

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simon-x-billy · 7 months

Text

Simon x Billy

Year of the OTP: October

Chapter 10: Attack of the tiny flying human

Prompt: Text messaging

AN: While Billy is sleeping off his drowned sorrows in his time zone, Simon has time traveled back 6 hours, to Brooklyn. He gets to live the same 6 hours twice. That’s just how it works. So sci-fi. He has been summoned (peer pressured) back to Brooklyn by his agent for a terribly important meeting requiring a suit. That’s all he knows about it: Wear a suit. Done. He’s wearing a suit. He’s never even seen Johnny in a suit, let alone wearing one with him. It’s this morning all over again, and it’s official. Italians do coffee better. NSFW TW: Finally back to the sexytimes! But first, lots of talking and saying stuff and things. Fair warning: There’s no Clary irl, but there is a Chase. Masterlist || ao3 || start || prev || next

————/Simon/————

“Simon, I don’t like that Johnny.”

“I know, Ma.”

“He looks like a sheister, that boy. He does not have a trustworthy face. No. He does not.”

“I know, Ma.”

“Well if you know, Simon, why don’t you go find a more trustworthy-looking agent?”

“Ok, Ma. Where are the Eggos?”

“Pish. Why am I stocking Eggos when you’re not living here anymore? Go stock ‘em for yourself over at that schmancy apartment of yours.”

“Ok, Ma. You’re right.”

She’s turned her ‘you don’t have a trustworthy face’ face on me.

“What, Ma. What? Please stop giving me the stink eye. It’s scary looking and definitely unfriendly.”

“You want I should be your friend now.”

I search madly for the right answer to that question.

“You want I should go to Katz’s? Yonah Schimmel? No! Wait! Ma, I will buy you an island if you make your matzoh ball soup.”

I am a genius.

Katz’s. Yonah Schimmel is next door. Pic mine.

That should keep her busy for well over 24 hours. It takes time to boil a chicken down to nothing but golden goodness. As Grandma used to say, “It took a day to build Rome, it takes more than that to make chicken soup.”

That should keep her happy and friendly for at least as many days as the soup lasts, and then some. And it’ll give me some fat to run off. Sometimes I don’t eat enough to sate the running addiction. It is what it is.

From the kitchen I hear Ma shout “But I do like his red hair!”

————/-/————

“Simon!!!” It’s practically a screech. The next thing I know, I’ve been attacked by a tiny flying human. I don’t know if there’s such a thing as a flying hug. Kind of like a cannonball into a pool, but aimed at me and not at a pool. Whatever it is, there are limbs everywhere, long hair in my mouth, and not a fraction of an inch of her touching the ground. I figure I’ll just leave the untangling up to her, for fear of touching places it would not be good to touch. This is all on her to unravel. She slides easily to the ground outside Java Jones.

Lily. That’s who.

“Look at you! Why are you all handsome and fresh-looking?” She looks at me suspiciously. Because apparently this is suspicious. And I now worry that I’ve never been handsome and fresh before.

“Nevermind,” she immediately interrupts herself, holding me at arm’s length. “Look at you! You’re all tanned and weirdly healthy. I’m dazzled by the sun dripping off you.” She sniffs. “Why do you smell so good? Are you wearing cologne?! I’m concerned.” Her eyes narrow. “Who are you and what have you done with my sweet vampire Simon? Why are you like this and what are we doing tonight?”

All of this delivered with coquettish little grins and winks sprinkled here and there.

“Stop flirting with me, vile creature.”

She growls and mock-punches me in the arm. “What the fuck, Simon! Where have you been? Clearly somewhere sunnier than Brooklyn. And this is not a tan you get in the Hamptons.”

I can’t help it, I just can’t be mad at this compact little flying ball of limbs. The girl three years younger than I am, that I think of as my little sister, yeah, her. I can’t be mad. She’s just too excited to see me. Genuinely happy to see me. Ugh, now I’m genuinely happy to see her, too.

“So? Are you going to tell me anything? Why do you look like a golden god, sitting here in this dingy hole of the pallid and caffeine-deprived?”

“Italy.” Am I grinning? I think I might be grinning.

“Grinning like the Cheshire Cat.”

“Did you hear the part about Italy?”

“Italy?!?!” She says with overly dramatized shock

Now this one definitely went to theatre school.

I know this to be true, not only because she’s dramatic — convincingly dramatic — but also because it’s where I met her. So I know from firsthand experience that she has a finely tuned host of expressions, reactions, etc to draw from. It’s called sense-memory. Dude, we’re from NY. Theatre camp might just have been with the Actors Studio, or it might not. We might have been mini Method Actors, we might not.

And this face? This face is pure goofball, all the way. She comes by it naturally.

“No, but seriously, Italy?” she asks.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about moving there.”

Lily spews cappuccino froth everywhere.

“Hang on, I got it.” I'm instantly springing for the counter in search of a cloth. Or even a stack of mini napkins? Please? I leave Lily holding her shirt away from her skin. The cappuccino is still hot enough that her shirt is now steaming. Ow.

It’s only as we’re dealing — successfully — with the aftermath, that I finally have a moment to recall what I said, just moments before The Great Cappuccino Incident of 2015.

I’m thinking about moving there.

I didn’t even know that’s how I felt until it flew out of my mouth.

I think I want to move to Italy.

Yep, still true, even after repetition.

“You want to what?” she asks, attention fully on me and not her shirt.

“I think I’m going to move to Italy.” Hm. My mouth just made up my mind for me.

When I’ve had something fly out of my mouth in the past, my mouth has turned out to be trustworthy and wise about 90% of the time. It’s not a perfect science. But what I will say is that my mouth speaking from my gut is not as gross as it sounds. I’ve learned to trust my gut-mouth. It tells me what I don’t realize I already know. And suddenly I have complete clarity. I’m moving to Italy.

!fuckyeahmovingtoitaly!!!!sddssaasblergjkl!

“Why???” she asks. I can hear all the question marks.

“I’m feeling…………things there.”

“You’re feeling things there,” she parrots back at me. “Like what?” she asks with mirth. She’s feeling mirthy.

“Well, for one, I feel more creative than I have since the day I started flogging myself with a blinking cursor on a blank white page, entitled Book 4 pg 1.”

“Writer’s blo-“

“Don’t say it! You’ll jinx me!” Look, Jewish mysticism is alive and kicking in Brooklyn. “Quick, spit on the evil eye!” I order her. It’s the least she could do!

“Don’t worry, Si. You’ll conqu-“

“Stop jinxing me! What, are you trying to ruin my life? Seriously! Anyway, I think Italy might help with that thing we’re not allowed to say out loud, knock on wood.”

Lily is staring at me. Well, no, not staring so much as assessing. “You’re different, Si. And it’s not just the tan. Your eyes are brighter. Sparklier.”

“Ew.”

She smacks my arm.

I look at her and my insides turn to mush. “You, Lily, are a mensch.” Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“What have I done to deserve your highest praise?”

“You haven’t done anything specific, and that’s part of the point. You, Lily, are a good human being. If it was just a one-time thing, I’d find a different compliment. But this is just an observation. You are a good human person.”

To my surprise, her eyes well up. “Hey, you ok?” I take her hand in mine and give it a warm squeeze. “Hey,” I squeeze again.

“Oh, nothing,” she says, rolling her eyes, but I can tell it’s not even remotely ‘nothing’ by the simple fact that she’s sniffling and her eyes look even more watery.

“Nothing’s wrong, Simon, I promise.”

“Happy tears, then? Did you get into Juilliard?”

“I wish! And anyways, I’m at Tisch.”

“Not too shabby!”

“You bet your frickin ass! There is no shab!”

“Mazel tov, Lily. Stand up and hug me,” I order her. And she does. But she’s sniffling and watery again. I have acquired a cappuccino shirt of my own. At least we’ll both smell alike, and cancel each other out.

I look at her appraisingly. (It’s her turn to be appraised.) “Something’s happened.”

She can’t stop the smile from exploding across her face. “Yes, something’s happened. But Chase made me promise that he’d be there when I told you.”

“Oh.”

Look, I know it’s a shitty thing that my monosyllabic response fell like a lead weight at her feet. But seriously, it’s Chase who needs to know what he’s walking into. Lily can either warn him or not. She’s not his babysitter nor his gatekeeper. “Keymaster,” I sigh.

The only reason I’m pissed at him is that he blew me off for a year. He wasn’t there for me. A stranger from Italy is the only person who was there for me. Not Lily. Not even Ma, who decided being jealous of her son’s vacation was top of mind, rather than her son’s mental and emotional state. The more book sales you have, the less support from humans you need? Is that the logic?

Poor little rich boy. Broken by privilege. Ok, the self-loathing has started, and at this moment, it’s not all about me. It’s supposed to be about some big surprise and I need to respect that.

“Where is that melonfucker anyway?” I raise my voice a little louder, as a poetry slam has just begun. At least it’s not as bad as the one in the book.

“Melonfucker?” The way she says it, I can’t tell if she thinks I’m funny or a loser. You’d think those two expressions couldn’t mate on one face.

I probably could have worded that a little better. Anyways, “Don’t ask. It’s a thing now. Soon everyone will be saying it.”

“I like it. Better than motherfucker. I don’t want to think about fuckers of mothers,” she says with a squicked-out expression.

“But fucking melons is ok,” I laugh.

“Fuck melons, not mothers! T-shirt? Mug?” she suggests.

“I fucked melons way before melonfucking was a thing,” I declare.

“You did what now?” It’s that voice with that pretentious accent that I’ve known since we were 10. He moved here from London. Posh London, apparently, cuz I guess that’s a thing that exists. It wasn’t til he met me that he started not-hating living anywhere else. And not only was this not London, it was America of all places. Insults and injuries and all that.

I thought he was cool. He thought I was a dork. But a friendly dork.

I first laid eyes on him as he wrestled with the door of his locker, just a few down from mine. Then he showed up in my English class, and everybody laughed when he pointed out that English class should really be about learning to be English.

It’s a miracle and a mystery why the student body chose to think that was funny. If it’d been me pulling that gag, I’d have been bullied mercilessly. But not Chase. He has something in him that has always drawn people in. I’ve never been able to put my finger on it.

He discovered that I’m the bomb later that day in the lunchroom. (‘Hi, I’m Simon and you will shortly discover that I am the bomb, deal with it.’ That’s how my brain has chosen to remember it.)

I’d been behind him in the lunch line, and watched with fascination as every single thing about the situation confused him. He was bewildered from beginning to end. Only to be spat out the other side into a busy lunchroom social scene. The moment of destiny, when the new kid stands there holding his tray, blinking at the reality of not knowing a single person in an already well established social hierarchy he knew nothing about.

This was it. Do or die time. It’ll make or break a kid.

And this was where I got awesome.

I walked up and stood there next to him, both of us looking out at the room. It was just as he was about to ask what I was doing that I said, “Sit with me.” And then walked up the center aisle without checking to see if he’d followed. Because even at 10 I was painfully cool. I stopped at the usual table, next to the usual cast of characters, and asked Kevin to scooch down so both of us would fit.

Chase had, indeed, followed. So he sat down. I think I said something like, “Hey everybody this is…” and let him fill in the blank. “This is Chase. Chase, this is everybody.”

I always remember that day whenever I’m pissed at him. It sucks cuz then it gets hard to stay pissed at him.

Chase looks at me warily before he grabs my fist and pulls me into a tentative bro hug. “Hey, man.”

”I’m mad at you.”

“Yeah. I kinda got that,” he replies. “Babe, did you tell him yet?”

“Of course not Simon will you be my Man of Honor?” All of this comes out on a single breath and obviously without punctuation.

I can feel myself standing here blinking at them. Everything gets a little slo-mo. I swallow.

Lily flashes her ring, wiggling her fingers at me in excitement.

“Married?”

They both nod yes.

“I do! I mean, yes! I will!” I sweep the tiny human up into my arms and twirl her around once before holding her at arm’s length. “Mazel tov!” I hug her again, and then look to Chase. “I knew this day would come, but a father’s never prepared for the flood of emotions, is he.”

“Father?” asks Lily with an “Ew gross,” following shortly behind.

“You better treat my little girl right,” I adopt a Texan accent, “Or I’mma come after you, son.” I give him a nostril flare, because it feels right. “You hear me, son? That’s my little girl you’re marrying. And Daddy’s got a shotgun, son. Daddy’s got a shotgun alright.” All we’re missing is a spittoon.

“Simon, what are you doing?” Lily asks.

“You know very well what I’m doing.”

Both Chase and I speak at once. “Monologuing.” It’s a thing we do. We went to theatre school.

“I can’t believe you’re monologuing at a time like this!” She practically shouts at me.

“It’s what he does when he’s nervous,” says Chase. The man who’s known me better than anyone else since we were 10.

Ugh, I guess I better man up and give him a real hug. “Mazel tov, man.”

————/-/————

She can’t be serious. “You want me to what now?” She wants me to cosplay Book Simon for Comic Con. I feel sick.

“I just threw up a little in my mouth.”

“No, seriously, hear me out. ‘Simon is Simon!’” she says with finger quotes. “It’s your thing! It’s synergy,” she says with ever more enthusiasm.

Lily, picturing synergy

“You’re joking, right?” It’s Chase.

“Oh thank God,” I blow out a breath of relief. “I was literally about to die a thousand horrified deaths hearing you agree with her. Oh my God. I feel dizzy.”

“Shut up,” Lily grouses. She sticks her tongue out at us because adulting is hard.

“I can’t cosplay my own books, and you know this! That is the- I mean, why would you even-“ She’s shaking her head, indicating that she is stubbornly holding tight to her position. “OK, look,” I say, committed to explaining all the ways she is an insane person. “What would you be thinking if you went to a show, only to find the frontman wearing his own band’s t-shirt, from this year’s merch tables.”

Chase sucks in his breath and pulls back, as if I have particularly noxious farts. Big, juicy, gross ones.

And then Lily busts out with, “I’d think he was wearing an ironic t-shirt.”

Ooooo, well played, Lily. Nice save. But I’m still embarrassed for her. “I wouldn’t be able to look myself in the eye for years after cosplaying myself. I think I might literally throw up. So much.”

“What about the scene when you crawl out of the grave - that Simon,” she persists. “You could be all muddy and unrecognizable.”

“But I AM VAMPIRE HUNTER D! And anyway, I’m on a panel tomorrow. So I can’t show up unrecognizable from being covered in mud from my grave.”

Simon, picturing D

“On a panel?!” Chase exclaims. “You, Simon Lewis, on a panel. Facts? You’re on a panel?”

I nod.

“On a panel,” he reiterates for the purpose of clarity. “Why didn’t you lead with that?!”

“Yes, yes, and yes to however many questions - I lost count.”

“And he’s my Man of Honor. And,” she gets serious, “he’s moving to Italy.”

“What? Simon, what the fuck?” Chase is now pie-eyed.

“And he’s talking to someone.” She finally stops dropping bombs.

I groan, “Lily, I was trying to get to all of that. Just one at a time.”

“Stop right there. Both of you.” Chase is suddenly serious. “Simon?”

“Yes, Chase?”

“Talk. About Comic Con.”

Lily is unimpressed. “That’s where you landed? Of all those options. You want to hear about Comic Con.”

“Ok, Comic Con,” I acquiesce. “I’m on tomorrow at 11am, 1A18. They want me to talk about getting started at a young age. But after this morning’s meeting with Johnny, I’m beginning to think maybe that’s not what they’ll want to hear about at all.” I am internally happy dancing.

“Why - what’s that about?” Chase wants to know.

“Come to the panel and find out,” I challenge, barely concealing my glee.

They both look pained. Chase breaks the awkward with, “It’s a little late for tickets. We didn’t know if you’d want to go.”

“Why wouldn’t I have wanted to go?”

“For exactly the reason we were worried about you being mad at how long it’s been. Simon,” he raises an eyebrow. “You ‘later-bro’d me.”

I can’t decide if I’m feeling guilty for that. At all. Nope. Not feeling guilty.

“Kelly can get VIP Passes. Will you come?”

They look to each other for some silent communication. It appears to go a little like this:

“What do you think?” asks Lily’s raised eyebrows.

Chase’s squint answers, “I dunno.” He’s always had a hard time agreeing to do things without several days notice. It’s one of the things I changed about his character in the book. You can’t be a half-angel warrior without spontaneity.

Lily’s hopeful eyes and dimples scream back, “Please, please, please?”

Chase’s sigh is total capitulation. The tension in his shoulders lets go, telling me he’s in.

“Thanks, guys. I hadn’t realized how much I need you there for the announcement. It’s big, and I’m freaking out.”

Chase goes to speak but I cut him off. “Nope, not telling til tomorrow. Cuz for now, I have even bigger news. You tell him, Lily.”

“Which thing am I telling him? It’s all juicy. Like how you met someone and now you’re moving to Italy. Is that the part you mean?”

Chase is still communicating wordlessly. His eye roll says, “As if.”

“Dude, bro I-“ I begin, but Lily cuts me off.

“Did he just dude-bro you?” she asks Chase in alarm.

“Yes, Lily. Yes he did,” answers Chase, looking askance at me.

“Shut up. Whatever.” I wave the dude-bro away. Just tell them, Lewis. “So, I kinda met someone. Someone in Italy. Which is only partly responsible for me moving there.”

Chase finally seems to get it.

“You’re moving?” he asks, voice losing its bombast.

“To Italy,” Lily confirms.

“Uh, I guess, yeah, kind of? Yes, I’m moving to Italy,” I say with greater conviction and vehemence.

“Name, please.” Lily puts out her hand as if I’m expected to have a pocket full of gold to deposit there. But what she’s actually demanding is a different kind of currency. A name.

“Um, I don’t know. I can’t really- I mean I don’t really know what ‘we’ are, so-“

“Give us a bloody name, you wanker,” Chase pulls out the Britishisms. “Clearly it’s serious.”

Si, certo. “Billy.” It flows out of my mouth so naturally that I know I’m not wrong.

“Where did y-“ Chase begins.

“Sorrento. A hotel. Maybe you guys can come visit sometime?”

Again with the unspoken language of eyebrows and dimples.

“OK, sure, yeah. If we can.” He’s being noncommittal. Maybe they don’t get that I’d be buying the tickets. They’re pretty expensive and Lily and Chase are a few off-Broadway shows away from their big breaks, so they can’t exactly be buying airfare just because I tell them to.

“Good. Let me know when, so I can have Kelly do all the ticket stuff,” I clarify, but I can see Chase is already squirming. “She’s the only one who knows how life actually works. Like I guess that frequent flier miles are an actual thing that exists. Hypothetically speaking.”

“Oh!” Lily exclaims. “Frequent flyer miles? Cuz if that’s the case, I’m saying yes right now. Just to be clear.”

“Yeah, of course! Just let Kelly figure it out, once you know when would work, ok?” Suddenly I’m feeling brilliant. Their honeymoon. Oh my god I am so awesome. “Or, y’know, you could always do your honeymoon-“

“Done! Yes! Our honeymoon! Yes, please. Yes. Exactly! That’s exactly when we’re coming whether Chase likes it or not.” Lily is practically vibrating, and trying hard to keep herself tethered to the earth. She fails. She jumps up and down, clapping and giggling. I might have gotten that from her.

This kind of thing always makes Chase uncomfortable — the money talk. It always seems to make him itch. As if money talk gives him hives.

“Soooo, Billie? Who’s she?” he asks with renewed interest.

“Yeah! I want to know about Billie, Simon, spill,” she echoes.

Well, shit. This is awkward.

I take a deep breath, and wing it. “Um, yeah, so Billy’s a chef at the best hotel I’ve ever seen in my life. And you guys know what a book tour is like. So when I say I’m in love with a hotel…”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, you love the hotel. Next?” Lily dispenses with the superfluous information. “More about Billie. Feed us.”

“Reminds me — let me know as soon as you pick a date, so I can get you a reservation. As much advance notice as y-“

“Blah blah blah restaurant, hotel, blah blah Billie! More Billie!” she demands.

“Are you moving to Italy because of a girl?” Chase isn’t excited about this notion.

“A girl?” I suppose that the following is not technically a lie: “Nope. Not for a girl. And anyway, even if it was partly because I like somebody, it’s just as much about loving Italy. The Mediterranean.” (I don’t misspell it, cuz I don’t want to confuse them.) “The speed of life there. The priorities are different there. And anyway, I already bought a car there. That’s like one step away from applying for citizenship. I like to finish what I’ve started, y’know?”

“Funny,” says Chase without even a hint of a smile.

“Wait. Are you getting-“ I pull back, eyes theatrically squinty. “Lily? What is happening on Chase’s face? This is a new one, and I’m not embarrassed to admit it scares me. A little.”

“I’m not sure, actually,” she says, studying him. “It’s almost the way he looks when some guy is hitting on me.”

“Chase, are you jealous? Please say yes, please say yes,” I tease.

“I am not jealous! Why would I be jealous!” He’s beginning to shut down. Lily and I both know the signs, so we let it go.

“Billy is a chef from Ireland,” I begin, and Lily is already swooning. The accent. Guaranteed. “And I will not deny that the Irish thing does it for me.”

“Is she a redhead?” asks Lily.

“Not a fan of the gingers, me,” Chase reminds us. It was one of the things I enjoyed most about writing up his dream girl — giving her red hair. His face looked pinched from sucking lemons when he first read it.

“Moving on. So I haven’t made any calls or done anything about moving, yet. So I don’t know about timing or anything. But I’ll let you know when I do.”

“Billie, please. Less Italy, more Billie. We’re frickin hungry, so feed us already!” she demands.

“What’s her best quality?” Chase wants to know.

“Beauty, yeah of course, and specifically the insanely green eyes. But really? Billy thinks I’m funny. Like, actual laughing and not just laughing to be nice.”

Their faces tell me everything I need to know.

“You’re making her up,” Chase claims.

“Agreed, she doesn’t exist,” says Lily. “How could you lie to us — right to our faces?!”

“Facts! And actually kinda seems to care about me. Like for real and not just for imagination.”

“Why do you think she’s worth dropping everything to shack up with her?” Lily asks.

“Billy is a lot of things, Lily. And ‘worth it’ is definitely one of them. I’m actually kind of fucked up about it. It’s a connection. A weird and unexpected one. But it’s a connection and it might be the first real one I’ve had since I met you guys. Damn. That’s kinda heavy. Right?”

They both vigorously nod in agreement.

Did I just ask them to come visit me and my very masculine, male ‘friend’ Billy? I might be regretting that already. A lot. This represents the 10% success rate I mentioned earlier that differs from the 90% success rate of my gut-mouth.

————/-/————

“Simon?!” I hear pots and pans clang to the floor in the background.

“Billy? Are you ok?”

“Just-“ His voice sounds strained, like he’s stretching — likely because of the falling objects he’s trying to rescue. “One-“

I hear Italian in the background.

Was that Billy? Holy shit, I thought his Irish accent was hot. Wait. Now an older man’s voice in Italian is doing some kind of scolding.

“Si, normale, normale,” I hear Billy say, and I almost get chills. Then I do get chills cuz he’s saying, “Grazie, Vittorio. Grazie mille.” I want him to say that, but with my name in the middle, and directly into my ear. Low and private, so only I can hear.

At least I know enough to catch that he’s speaking with one of the owners of the hotel. The one who runs the kitchen. Head chef. Michelin stars and all that.

I’ve only gotten a handful of words, but god it’s good to hear Billy’s voice.

What the fuck is up with me? I am so completely beyond my comfort zone. Because only things that I know how to do are in my comfort zone. If I don’t know how to do something, how am I supposed to be comfortable? Whatever. Point is, I miss his-

“Simon? You still on? Simon?”

“Yeah! Yes. Hi. Yeah, here. Hi.”

Billy chuckles on the other end. God what a glorious sound.

“It’s so fuckin good to hear your voice, mate,” rushes out of him. “I can’t even pretend it isn’t.”

“Fuckin hell, I know!” I can’t even pretend either.

“Lord, I think I need to sit my arse down a minute.”

I think he might miss me.

It feels like my digestive system has jazz hands, and I am grinning. I know this because I've just raised my fingertips to my lips to find out. And they are indeed grinning. If I had a mirror I’d be able to tell if it’s a dopey grin. I’ve never tried that kind of grin so I’m ill-prepared for encountering one in the wild.

“Hmmm,” Billy intones, then giggles. Recall how awesome those are. Giggles from Billy are musical, up and down the scale.

Billy tells me, “I love that you have no problem with thinking out loud — especially since, in the moment, you have no idea you’re doing it.” He’s teasing me. I’m feeling teased.

It’s simple. “I gave up caring. It wasn’t worth the energy. And anyone who can’t handle it won’t be able to handle me. So, it’s like a sieve for humans.”

“Weird metaphor, but ok,” he grants me.

It just occurred to me, “She Who Shall Not Be Named never commented on it. Not once. I kinda figured it wasn’t happening anymore. But I guess it is.”

“Simon?”

“Billy?”

“Did you ever feel like she took advantage of knowin what you were thinkin?”

Well, that was dark as one can get. I’ll admit my pride doesn’t love the implication.

“Probably,” I admit with an acrid taste in my mouth.

“Fuck her,” he says, simply. But there’s a vehemence underneath it all that makes my pulse go all irregular. He’s jealous. And protective. Of me! I feel like I just got asked to the prom by the hot exchange student.

“Why do I have to like you so much?” I accuse. “It’s really annoying.”

He doesn’t answer. “Billy? You still there?”

“Yeah.” His voice is weird and rough. “I’m here. I’m glad you called.”

“Me too.”

“No,” he says. “I’m really glad you called. I think I might be ah, em, a little fucked up over this whole thing.”

My heart plummets to my shoes. “Oh.” I don’t know what to do with this new information. I didn’t realize he thought this was fucked up. Ow. My…something hurts. Ow.

“Simon, that’s not even what I said, mate. I said that I’m fucked up, not that the situation is bad. You get the difference, right?” He sounds all wrong.

“Billy, are you ok? I’m a little lost, but I don’t want to be. So tell me, are you ok? Are…are we ok?”

“God yes,�� rushes out of him all at once. “Tell me we’re ok, Simon. Are we?”

“Of course! Why would you- No, you know what? Never mind all that. I’m just gonna say it plain. I miss you, Billy Delaney. I miss you and Italy. I plan to see both of you by the end of the week.”

I hear a huge exhalation on the other end, and then I hear movement, as if he’s just slid down the wall to the floor, and landed with a grunt.

“Does that sound ok?” I ask.

“Y-“ He has to clear his throat, and it still sounds gruff. “Yes. Good. Yeah, yes. That- That sounds good.”

“Everything ok, Delaney?”

“Yes, Lewis. All is, as you say, ok.”

“Thank God.”

“Right?” he asks on another gust of breath.

“Why do I miss you so much? It’s weird, right?” I mean, it is. Right?

“Not to my eyes. Not to my ears. Or any other part of me,” he says. “I feel like I haven’t been able to breathe since you left the car. Vittorio is convinced I’ve lost a relation or something. I almost cut myself dicing, Simon. I almost cut myself, dicing!!! That’s beyond the pale, mate. Beyond the pale!”

“Be more careful, Billy, but don’t stop missing me, ok?”

“Ok. Say it back.”

“I promise, Billy. I won’t stop missing you.”

“God! I am so completely shite. Needin to hear that from you. Embarrassing.”

“But-“ One word into my response, Ma busts into my bedroom. It’s after lights-out time, and she’s brandishing her matriarchy at me.

“Simon! What are you doing up so late?” she demands.

I feel just like I did when I was 13 and got caught with my hand in my jammies. “Knock, Ma! I’m on the phone!”

“You are not. You’re on the computer. Don’t lie to me.” Despite the fact that it’s the future, where computers are also phones.

I can do nothing but roll my eyes.

Billy chuckles. “Keep it down, Simon. They’ll be hearin your eyes in Italy.” How can he tell?

“Shh!” I hiss.

“Don’t you shush me, Simon Ira Lewis.”

“She just triple named me,” I whisper to Billy.

“Who are you talking to, young man?”

“‘Young man?’” Billy laughs. “So your mum’s the one as keeps threatening to turn the car round, then.”

“You’re being very rude to your mother. Don’t carry on another conversation while we’re having a conversation.”

“The irony,” observes Billy.

I shoot him a “Pshht!” under my breath, and growl with an actual “grrr.”

“You’re all up in my space, Ma. That’s not ok.”

Ma looks taken aback.

“Who are you to decide what’s ok? Respect your elders, young man.”

“Ma. Stop. And go away. Or I will. I’m serious.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I love you, Ma, but you’re killin me here.”

“Boundaries,” Billy sagely observes.

“Boundaries, Ma. We have some.” Then to Billy, “Shh! I’ll handle this.”

“You’ll handle what? You’ll handle me?! What has gotten into you?!”

“Nothing, yet.”

Billy has just snarfed water out his nose.

I can hear him choking in the background.

“Look, Ma. We’ll talk in the morning, k? But I gotta go give a talk first thing, so it’ll have to be breakfast, not brunch.” And seeing as feeding loved ones is plainly still her kryptonite, I decide to take the food route to her happy place. “Will you make the coffee how I like it? And some of your coffee cake?” Oh my god, the coffee cake. I just made myself salivate. I’m not ashamed.

I see her giving me a thoughtful side-eye. “Alright. I love you, honey.”

“Love you too, Ma. G’night.”

“You want her to leave the door open a crack, and the hall light on?” Billy teases.

“How do you know about that?! I mean, why would you say that?”

“No reason,” Billy answers. “I think I might love your mother,” he says, with that twinkling voice he gets when he’s delighted. Are all Irish people so twinkly everywhere all the time? I gotta find a better word than twinkly.

“Promise me she’s short,” he commands. “In my mind she is a mighty woman, but short.”

“Your mind is right. Jewish mothers are required to be short,” I report. “It’s the law.”

“I knew it,” he laughs. Again, with the twinkling. “Her accent is amazing. Why don’t you sound like her?”

“You mean like this? Soymun. You’re pretty close with your Soim’n, actually. Who knew? Brooklyn and Ireland. Two countries so far apart should not sound so close.”

He chuckles. Such a nice sound. “More. Do the voice, do the voice,” he demands.

“Really? Ok.”

“Ha HA! Yes!” I can hear him grinning maniacally. He should consider happy clapping. When words fail, it’s really the only thing left to do.

“OK. So here’s what she tells me this morning at 6am over coffee:

“Soymun,” I exaggerate her accent. “Did you hear we have new neighbors next door? You remember, where Mrs. Levy died.” (Mrs. Levy died?) “Such a nice young couple. Two men, you know. They get married these days. Such nice Jewish boys.” (Always with the NJBs.) “They got the most beautiful baby girl.” (Got? What, did they go shopping?) “I babysit from time to time, you know. Oy, so spoiled already. A strong head on her, that one. She’ll make a fine Jewish mother someday.” (God help her future sons.)

He stops applauding to inquire, “NJBs?”

“Nice Jewish Boys. Like me. It’s a thing. Just roll with it.”

————/Billy/————

Billy: send me a dick pic

Grumpy: adfsdadfslkjsdjf

Grumpy: you want a what

Billy: ☝️printed right there

Grumpy: rhetorical q

Grumpy: back to the dick pic

Billy: yes please back to that

Grumpy: are you kidding

Grumpy: no dick pic til i know if you’re kidding

Billy: have you ever taken one

Grumpy: NO!

Grumpy: i mean yeah of course

Billy: you’ve never taken one

Grumpy: no

Billy: send me one

Grumpy: why???

Billy: are you feckin jokin me?

Billy: if your hand was doing what mine is

Grumpy:

Billy: just a little somethin to inspire

Grumpy:

Billy: refresh my memory

Grumpy: so how’s Lola?

He’s attempting to distract me with his car.

Billy: send one

Grumpy: you’re bossy

Billy: do you like that

Grumpy: jesus billy!!!

————/-/————

Ten minutes of banter later, I have the dick pic, a full bath, candles in the window, lights off, and almost an entire bottle of Bushmills 12. I swirl the whiskey round the ice til it starts meltin, then let myself into the water, relaxin against a towel folded behind my head.

I like making Simon feel wanted. Desired. But I was also wanting the dick pic currently glowin in my hand.

The hand that’s not currently cupping my balls, giving them some much appreciated attention. I prop the phone up against the window, so both hands are free.

I compare the pic to my own cock. Despite being the same size, they really are quite different. He’s cut — that’s the obvious difference. But he’s also veinier. Different color, too. Mine’s more, I’m not sure, maybe darker? But his looks sort of peachy, with a rosy head. I recall it looking angry red when it’s hard.

Grumpy: I’m waiting

Billy: ?

Grumpy: for yours, you cheat!

Billy: ok

I hold mine in my hand, stroke it and take a couple shots. The second one is best (why? dunno), so I hit send.

Grumpy: glargh *swallows tongue*

Grumpy: no swallowing jokes

Grumpy: unless they’re good jokes

Billy: you don’t want me thinking bout swallowin

Billy: but you’re fine with me thinkin bout your tongue, tonguing?

Billy: that’d be alright then would it?

Billy: i’m so turned on that even textin can’t make my cock go soft

Grumpy: you don’t play fair

Billy: you got no idea

Grumpy: merp

Billy: goodnight simon

Grumpy: no! billy wait!

Billy: my hands are busy

Slippery under water, my cock is almost painfully hard, but the slip and slide is everything good in the world.

Because of a dick pic. That is mental.

But look at it!

I think I just- Did I really just salivate?

Now all I can think about is picturing Simon slipping and sliding in and out of a mouth. Not my mouth, specifically. Sort of a gender neutral mouth. And just thinkin bout Simon gettin sucked off, my brain stutters, my pulse, my stroke, everything stutters as the bright light of pleasure glows throughout me and I’m groaning.

I twist as I pass the head on every stroke. God yes. My breathing picks up.

The imaginary mouth sucks on the crown of his cock. The image sends a lance of pleasure through me. I imagine my hand doin the same to his balls as I’m doin to mine.

In my mind, I’m picturing Simon feelin everything I do to myself, as if I’m doing it to him. I use it to create the fantasy. The fantasy expands to include my cock gettin sucked off. And it’s a pair of lips I’ve never kissed. I can’t believe the strength of wantin Simon’s lips on my cock, and wantin Simon to feel it as if it’s my lips on him. Mmmmmfff.

Oh shit, what’s- Text notification. Simon’s just sent another text.

His cock. Long, thick, rock hard and red. The angle is mmmmf his thighs in the background, and ungh his ssssac against his course shorthairssss.

I get two flashes of pleasure in quick succession. Oh fuck yes. Hhhhhhhhhhmmmyes.

My cock jumps underwater, sending out ripples as electricity courses down my length.

Unnnnhhh, my imagination is still hard at work. I can no longer tell what part belongs to who, where sensation and imagination meld. In my hand. In his mouth.

Mmmmmm in his mouth.

I can see it with such clarity. That mental image makes my balls draw up high and tight, and all they want is release. Oh Jaysus, the image is so clear. His mouth, red and puffy from bein used. Spit-shine on his lips, running to his chin. The vision makes me moan, like a glow from a thousand miles away. And I keep on moanin, as a thrilling feeling of urgency swamps me. I arch my back, the pleasure drawing from every part of me, until I uncontrollably gasp “Fffffffffffffuh!” And suddenly I’m pulsing come into a cloth.

My cock in his mmmmouth. I convulse again, pulsing out even more, and my moan turns into a whine as I encourage one last strained pulse from the head.

My chest is heaving from holdin my breath. Sometimes I forget to breathe when I come. And if I can manage to keep control of my cock long enough to time my climax right, some of my most powerful orgasms have come from holdin my breath longer than a reasonable man would. The gasp of air when I tip over the edge is an orgasm that comes on a head rush and a sudden infusion of oxygen.

I’m not one for choking, though. Even the thought of it makes my cock shrink.

I step out of the bath and rest against the window frame, appreciating the view of the boats in the harbor all lit up like sparks on the water. I let myself air dry in the night breezes, luxuriating nude by the open window lettin in the floral scents of the gardens and the salt off the sea.

It’s a beautiful night, and I am sated.

————/-/————

Masterlist || ao3 || start || prev || next

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elvenbeard · 1 year

Text

To Bad Decisions

Notes: aka the "I love you"-game-of-chicken story inspired by this otp ask game the other week! @wanderingaldecaldo here you go xD First I wanted this to be just light-hearted fluff and fun, but then the angst grabbed me and it got looong, hence to be continued under the readmore!

Cyberpunk 2077 drabble, Kerry Eurodyne x V, set a few months post-ending, rated M for the opening paragraph mostly XD

V struggles with putting his feelings into words, scared that Kerry might be catching on - or is he potentially struggling with the same thing? No, that can't be, right?

The first time V almost said it out loud would have been at one of the worst moments possible to do so: pinned down on their bed, on his stomach, Kerry fucking him so good his head was spinning, barely able to even think a coherent sentence.

“I - …” he gasped, but caught his breath just in time, closed his eyes, and buried his burning face in the heavenly cold pillow.

“You…?” Kerry purred into his ear, out of breath as well, and that alone almost sent him over the edge. He didn’t recall what he ended up saying, a jumbled mess of words and noises… but thankfully not the three originally on his mind.

It was silly, really. Firstly, that he struggled so much with just expressing what he felt, and secondly, trying to find the perfect moment to do so when such a thing would never exist. Or well, maybe perfect moments did exist, but he always only seemed to recognize them once they were gone. The morning after the yacht trip, when they’d woken up together in Vs bed, warm and safe and comfortable, just peacefully existing side by side… Kerry blinking at him through tousled hair, smiling softly… that had been a perfect moment, it would have felt right. But it also would have been way too soon. They’d known each other for how long, two weeks maybe? Three if he counted the whole mess surrounding the organization of the SAMURAI reunion, but that had been mostly Johnny doing the talking, not himself. At that time, V had still feared his feelings could have been just brought on by Johnny actually, and whatever kind of thing that had been going on between him and Kerry a long, long time ago… that with Johnny the butterflies and their connection would also disappear, sooner or later. That it was not right to lead Kerry on, should it eventually happen, no matter how much he’d already liked him on that one perfect morning, on that beach, on that balcony…

But then his feelings didn’t fade. Things were different now, but better than V could have ever dreamed of. Kerry made him happy in a way he hadn’t deemed possible anymore, after all that had happened, after so many past disappointments. And yet, or maybe because of that, he couldn’t silence the nagging voice in his head – his own this time – that for whatever absurd reason Kerry didn’t feel the same. That by saying what he felt out loud, he’d ruin everything, again, for both of them.

“Remind me, what’s the plan for today again?” Kerry yawned as they sat in the kitchen the next morning, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and scrambled eggs still hanging in the air.

“That one client I told you about… Cancelled last minute because “something important” came up. Again,” V muttered, scrolling through the sheer never-ending list of appointments on his holo.

Kerry scoffed.

“Told ya. It’s never gonna happen. This is what, the fourth time he’s postponed?”

“Guess you’re always right after all,” V teased and got up to put their empty plates and mugs in the dishwasher.

“’Course I am,” Kerry said; after a short pause he added “But it’s his loss, not yours.”

“True,” V said, “And it also means I’ll have an hour or two of spare time to fill around three. Could swing by the studio, if you want?”

He didn’t reply for a few moments, causing V to look up from the dishwasher. Kerry sat leaned on the counter, his chin resting on his hand, and he stared at him with an expression he couldn’t quite figure out.

“I… would love that,” he then said with a smile, but for a split-second V thought he was going to say something else, his heart beating harder and faster instantly.

“Bring some coffee and bagels maybe?” Kerry added with a wink and V laughed.

“Sure thing.”

Maybe it was not even necessary to say anything out loud. Never touch a running system. Why accidentally ruin something that was working out so well, against all odds? Living with Kerry felt so easy, so natural. Of course, it wasn’t always smooth sailing. They’d had their struggles and fights over the silliest and also the most serious things. But there was never malice, and they were constantly working on their communication, stating their needs, their wishes, and getting to know each other’s boundaries. Kerry was a lot more in touch with his emotions and feelings than V though. Maybe that was something that just came naturally with age and life experience. Or it was just how he’d always been like, not afraid to state his mind. V had always struggled with showing or even allowing feelings. Surprisingly, Kerry was still just as good as him, maybe even better, at masking his real intentions around people whom they did not concern – be it managers, medias, even fans and the like. A long-honed craft for sure, his badass, laidback rockerboy persona, and essential to surviving in the corporate-run world the music industry was. V knew from his own experience only too well that everything you said, every hint of weakness you showed, would be exploited and used against you mercilessly and shamelessly – for money, for power, for fame.

When they were alone though, or around their closest friends, Kerry was so much softer around the edges… carried his heart on his sleeve, really. Or so V had thought.

“Alright, gotta bounce,” V yelled, grabbing his sunglasses from the counter before rushing to lean over the sofa’s backrest to give Kerry a quick peck on the cheek, “I - …”

Fuck.

“I… will give you a call if anything unexpected comes up.”

Kerry looked up from his guitar, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“Alright, come back safe,” he then said, reaching up to grab his collar and pull him back in for a proper kiss.

“’Cause you know, I…” he paused as their lips parted, again causing V’s breath to hitch for a moment, “I still need you.”

He smiled that heart-melting smile he was so good at, and V was half-tempted to call the client and tell her he’d run late, or just cancel altogether. Reluctantly he pulled away and walked out the door.

In the elevator he kept wondering though if “I still need you” was really what Kerry had been meaning to say.

Over the course of the following week, V kept noticing more and more of these little moments, caught himself almost slipping up a lot more often. At first he wondered if Kerry was as aware of it as himself. So many “I… hope you’ll have a good day”s, “I – will miss you”s, “I… I’ll talk to you later”s couldn’t just be flying past him. The longer it continued on, the more he wondered if maybe, just maybe… Kerry was playing along on purpose? Or was he also avoiding just to say the words, out of fear to mess things up between them? He couldn’t quite believe either option. Maybe he just ignored it, to not make it even weirder, or maybe it was not as obvious as V thought.

By the end of the week, V asked himself, did it actually matter? That they said it, if and when they said it, who’d be the one to say it first, if at all? Maybe he was overthinking it. He knew he loved Kerry, more than he’d loved anyone before. And he did feel loved by him just as much. Sure, it would be nice to hear it out loud, now and then, but maybe actions did speak louder than words. Little gestures, touches, just being near each other, picking the other up when he was feeling down, being encouraging, or sometimes also just silly. Making commitments, promises, and keeping them. Daring to plan for a future neither of them had thought they’d get, together. It was not important to say it when they lived it, is what V decided for himself eventually. Why ruin something, maybe not perfect, but pretty fucking close to it, with a bunch of words so loaded with bad memories and regrets for both of them?

“I… have an itch for new ink,” Kerry said one night at the villa, where they regularly hid away from the noise and the stress of the city for a few days. They had settled down on the sofa together, Kerry lying on his back, his head on V’s lap, Nibbles dozing by his feet. V was running his fingers through Kerry’s hair absentmindedly as they’d been watching a new show on TV. It didn’t turn out to be as good as they’d hoped for though, so at this point it had devolved into background noise to their conversation.

“Where? And what?” V asked, and Kerry gestured across the left side of his chest.

“To compliment the one on the right, kinda,” he said, “But I’m not sure if I’d wanna to go for a traditional design, too, or something else.”

��Well, you have a traditional and a neotraditional sleeve each,” V said, “Could go with something neo for that side?”

Kerry hummed.

“Good point…” he said, “Ooor… something a bit smaller first maybe? After all, I have some space left here.”

He lifted his left arm, twisted his wrist around.

“But I’m even more clueless about that. I guess it’s really just an itch still that might pass…”

“I know the feeling,” V chuckled. After a short pause he asked, “Any tats that you ever regretted getting?”

“Actually… no,” Kerry said surprisingly fast, “I’ve lived long enough to collect all sorts of regrets, but that’s thankfully none of them. Although, this part here…” – he pointed to the crook of his left arm – “That was a fucking bitch to endure. No machine, the ink literally hammered in by hand, for hours. The. Fucking. Worst.”

V chuckled.

“It’s fucking preem-looking though,” he said.

“Beauty knows no pain or what?” Kerry snorted.

“No, not that even,” V said, “More like… it’s worth it to endure the pain sometimes, for the outcome?”

Kerry hummed approvingly, smiling up at V.

“That’s pretty much the tradition. One of the many at least, a coming-of-age ritual. You’re old enough to endure this pain, you’re old enough to endure all other pain life might be throwing at ya at a certain point.”

“I keep learning new things with you,” V smiled.

Kerry shuffled around, then sat up and stretched before scooching a little closer to V again, putting his left arm around him. V’s heart did a silly little bounce in his chest, causing the voice in his head (that sometimes still eerily sounded like Johnny) to say, “What are you, twelve?”. But simultaneously he hoped these little things his body did would never stop happening, no matter how many months… no, years, they’d be getting together. Positive thinking, he needed to remind himself.

“Okay, that was my answer to the regrets-game for today,” Kerry said, “Your turn: what’s the decision you’ve made that you regret the most, looking back?”

“Shit… lemme think a moment,” V sighed, slumping against the backrest and into Kerry’s embrace.

A few things came to mind immediately. Not leaving his abusive home sooner, as a teen… but then he might not have ever met Jackie. Everything would have gone down completely different. Letting Jenkins rope him into working for Arasaka, after thinking he’d left that world behind for good? But he’d be so much more clueless, maybe even careless about how to survive in this corporate-controlled world. He’d be a lot worse at what he was doing now… if he’d ever even gotten this far without what he learned during his time at Counterintel. Maybe one of his many failed past relationships – but he could think of at least one reason for each of them that had let him grow as a person or learn something integral about what he wanted and needed in a long-term partner. The closest he came to almost picking as his biggest regret so far was not taking Evelyn’s offer of screwing over Dex – but at the time there was no way for him to have known how this would all play out. In hindsight, Evelyn hadn’t been telling him the full truth, so his intuition hadn’t failed him completely. If he could change one thing, he would have wished for Jackie not to die that day. But by now he had accepted that it had never been in his power, it hadn’t been his fault… a hard thing to unlearn, blaming himself. Had Jackie not died though – and for a moment he hated himself for the thought – the Relic would have gone to Brigitte. Had Jackie not got hit by that bullet, V’d likely never heard of Johnny Silverhand or SAMURAI besides the occasional radio show…

“Can I be super cringe for a moment?” he eventually asked, turning his head to a snickering Kerry.

“You’ve let me get away with so much cringe already, only fair if I return the favor,” he said.

V took a deep breath, looking down on his hands for a moment, circling his personal link port with his right thumb. Then he blinked back up at Kerry.

“I don’t regret any of my decisions, even the bad ones,” he said, “Because if the summary of all my bad decision means I’m ending up here with you, in this moment… I’d gladly make all the same mistakes again.”

Kerry stared at him, not wide-eyed or anything, but intensely. The tiniest noise escaped his mouth, less than a sigh, but he said nothing. Then, very slowly, his lips curled into a smile. V half expected a snarky remark, but instead Kerry pulled him a little closer and with his free hand took V’s, calloused fingers intertwining with his. He looked away for a moment, and V tried to read his expression, scanning for any hints to give him at least an idea of what was going through his head, if he’d overstepped, said something wrong…

“It’s weird…” Kerry then quietly said, looking at him again, eyes glistening slightly, almost sad, but not quite, “… how you keep managing to put into words what I can’t seem to. God knows I’ve fucked up along the way, over and over again. But if any of that hadn’t happened, who knows if we’d ever even met.”

V smiled, sighing with relief. Kerry leaned over, resting his head on V’s shoulder.

“I know, it’s still scary to think of the future, to plan ahead too far,” he said quietly, “But no matter what happens tomorrow, or in a week, a month, a year… I hope you know that you’re gonna be stuck with me. I… hope you know that… that I love you.”

V couldn’t suppress a gasp, to his own surprise. Kerry still held his hand, his other arm loosely around his waist, when he shifted again to see his face. He looked concerned almost, questioning, worried, but trying to keep up his smile, lips shaking a little. He sat up a bit further, inching away just slightly, and V realized how he’d just been staring at him in shock for the last few moments of silence.

“I… uh, I mean,” Kerry mumbled, voice almost turning frantic now, as if he’d also just realized what he’d said.

V’s hand shot up to grab Kerry’s face, to pull him back, to reassure him. Before he really knew what he was doing he pressed his lips on his, kissed him over and over again, held him close, did not ever want to let him go.

“I love you, too,” he gasped between urgent kisses, and simultaneously it was as if he was able to breathe freely again, for the first time in a long time, “So much. I love you so much.”

“Vince,” Kerry panted, and only with some mild force managed to get him to stop for a moment. V realized how much he was shaking first, and then that he was crying, for some reason. The last time he’d cried was the night he’d stumbled out of Arasaka Tower, more dead than alive. Shit, why now?

“It’s all good, you gonk,” Kerry said softly, cupping his face, wiping his tears away. The same way he’d done that awful, awful night.

“It’s all good,” Kerry repeated, then put his arms back around him, pulling him in, and they just sat there, holding each other, reassuring each other, gently swaying, for minutes that seemed to last hours, until V had calmed down again. Nibbles was quietly snoring, the TV babbling endlessly on low volume, and soft rain pattered against the large windows, Night City’s millions of lights a distant, colourful blur.

“Fuck, I was so scared for a moment that I’d ruined it all…” Kerry eventually said, and V laughed weakly, nose stuffy and throat still tight.

“You were scared? I was scared shitless to say it too soon, or in the wrong moment… I kept almost slipping up… just saying that out loud now, how stupid.”

“Well, you’re welcome then,” Kerry chuckled, “And I was wondering if I was imagining things or if you really just tried your hardest not to say it.”

“We’re both fucking gonks…” V concluded, and Kerry laughed. They slowly moved apart just enough to be able to look at the other again, still holding on.

“Perfect match then, hm?” Kerry smiled with his head slightly tilted, his gorgeous eyes glittering in the lights of the city, “Now we just have to start being less scared of making bad decisions.”

V smiled back at Kerry, vowing to make sure to tell him just how much he loved him at every opportunity from now on.

“Yes,” he said, “To bad decisions.”

“To bad decisions!”

#cyberpunk 2077 #kerry eurodyne x v #cyberpunk 2077 fanfiction #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #kerry eurodyne #male v cyberpunk #otp: to bad decisions #vincent ezaki #my writing #this story is basically just why I even decided on that ship name for them #it's also the steam achievement's name for completing Kerry's story but it also fits them together with their background so well I think #I dont remember when I've last written so much for just one character/ pairing as over the course of the last week #I'm having such a creative blast rn xD #just gotta gather the courage to start posting that V & Jackie thing that has like 5 chapters already >.>

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