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kosmicdream · 4 months

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The FATE of FEAST FOR A KING

.. and Nasty Red Dogs…

And some other miscellaneous thoughts about comics, writing, and time.... AND ENDINGS...

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As I’m approaching 10 years on FFAK and NRD is currently 5, I’ve been reflecting a lot on How far this journey with comics has taken me and how far I still have yet to go. For those unaware, my first webcomic was actually Eggshells, which started in 2011, but i only started posting pages publicly in 2013. It too is unfinished, but its planned for 7 chapters. (I’m currently working on chapter 5, which probably will come out early next year.) I have 9 ongoing comics I’m working on. NINE!! 3 of those are FFAK related. (FFAK, After Dinner Treat, and the prequel series “Help.”) It is so many comics though. And beyond that! I have two other stories I’ve been working on for the past few years in secret, one being Nice Blue Cats, which I might still draw as a comic someday.. As well as a series of “one shots” that is meant to be its own collection. Slugmom and “The Teacher & The Fairy” are part of these one shot collections. Which, uh, it was designed to help me practice writing short stories. Which TT&TF is now going to be three parts long, and roughly 300 pages. So I guess that’s short enough…? Ha.. laughs… Anyway, as I was saying.. Sometimes I’m sure, readers might wonder. “Do you ever feel overwhelmed, with so many projects Kosmic?” Yeah dude. I sure fucking do. I got 9 of them! That’s more than a full pokemon team of projects that are potentially a decade + of work. A couple of them already are a decade old/older at this point. (Praeymoon is actually one of my oldest-lasting projects, even tho its first chapter only finally released in 2023.. I first attempted to draw ch1 back in 2016, but was unable to finish it and scrapped the “full color” angle i was trying then. ) All my current ongoing comic projects are as follows: Feast for a King, Nasty Red Dogs, Eggshells, The Teacher & the Fairy, Replacer, The Eyes of Miasma, FFAK: After Dinner Treat, FFAK: Help, are all written. The only one which isnt fully written is Praeymoon, which I don’t mind because the way that story is organized is almost more of a sandbox-fantasy world of mini stories. I’ll be honest, if you havent heard of Replacer or The Eyes of Miasma, I don’t blame you- its not that i don’t like those stories. They just kind of are the “most neglected” comics yet I’m also kind of amazed they exist at all, like I DONT know how I found the time to draw over 100 pages for both of them. They also have fully written outlines and all things considered, are probably only going to be under 400-500 pages in length. But that’s still a decent amount of work there. Its been ten years since I more or less started making webcomics… and as I plan, and try to calculate all my projects for the next 10 years, my main priority at the moment is well.. Finishing all of these fucking stories one way or another. Its hard! I don’t know if I can as I put way too much on my plate. But at the same time like.. Whatever. I could easily drop most of them, if I felt inclined to - but I don’t. They are my library of work, and I’ve sort of made an artist oath to myself that I will see as many of them to the end as I can. I’m excited that three are very close to its end. (Nasty Red Dogs, The Teacher & the Fairy, and Eggshells.) After that well.. I’ll see what I can cross off my list next once I get there.. That’s still going to take years to get those done. But hopefully not too many.

[Spoilers for potential LENGTHS of FFAK/NRD.. And other things.. I speak very transparently about writing and working on comics here AND including my thoughts on ENDINGS.. You’ve been warned]

I’m comfortable enough sharing that the fairy comic is 3 parts, Eggshells is 7 chapters, but when it comes to FFAK/NRD.. Its much harder to give an estimate, or if sharing those things will only be disappointing or annoying to hear about.. If you have ever been around me for more than 10 minutes, i am constantly talk about the “length left” on these projects a lot anyway. At night, i count them in my head. In the day, I write little lists as if I’ve forgotten the names of them.. They are MY LIST.

But for those who do not know and wish to, NRD is likely going to end with 10 chapters. I have extended this in the past, so it could still change.. but it only really has gotten “longer” due to pacing of scenes rather than the actual content. And Honestly, it was paced out specifically to avoid this next chapter. Not that I didn’t want to draw it, its because i was Scared to do it.. Why? Because there’s cars I have to draw in it. And dogs. I have drawn those things before, at least once or twice. But I do not enjoy drawing cars or dogs. Dogs are okay now, but i hate that they have legs. Dont give me references, i have those. Its just how my brain is, with those fuckign legs and how there’s four of them. I know practice makes perfect. Or do-able. I have drawn amost 1000 pages of NRD, i dont remember how they bend and i’ve forgiven myself for knowing there’s just some things god cannot do, which is to give kosmic the ability to look at a dog leg and understand. Anyway. Because of this reason, somehow, finishing NRD with it only possibly being 4 more chapters, still feels harder than finishing ALL of FFAK - which (drumroll) might be .. only around 10 or 12 chapters left. Yes, you heard me- for the second AND third arc. 10 or 12 more. Will that also change? Probably!!!!!! Like, yes… its been 9 years and I’ve completed a lot more than just 10 chapters of comics in that time.. But wrapping up a story is way harder and I dont know what that’s like..yet! But i feel still confident that i will. I mean, i don’t really have any other choice than to experience it. I used to recoil and fall apart just emotionally contemplating finishing FFAK. my FUCKING baby. My joy. You mean that has to end?? NEVER. My attachment to it and the characters was incomparable to anything else I had done, and in my mind ever WILL make… (and that is still true.) But.. I’m okay with that now and I actually look forward to seeing how it could end up. Even if its bad!

Its kind of weird to say, I just don’t really think it will be.. super good? Like.. it could be? I don’t know how readers will react. I dont even know how I feel about the whole thing.. I have felt so many feelings about this comic already, now I’m kind of.. Past it in a new stage. Zen like peace almost. There’s just.. so much that I wanted to PUT in FFAK and so much i could STILL put in. But I kind of just am okay with what i wrote, does that even make sense? The whole comic has felt like such a fluke to me, from the very start. And I managed to accidentally make so many great things in it I don’t actually understand sometimes. And my dreams for the comic has been nearly limitless. I couldn’t possibly contain all the feelings I’ve had over this story over the many years I have been making it, and all the incredible narrative outcomes I could see the characters going in.. the possibilities, the parallels.. The anime music videos.. I would NOT compare my writing style to GRRM, I haven’t read his books. but I can’t help but feel a bit like a weird baby version of him with the amount of cast members I have to push around and draw.. And I want to be clear. If FFAK was written as a book, it wouldn’t happen. I cannot write books. I do not think writing books is easier/faster than making comics, but sometimes it is hard to have to draw everyone. Point is, I understand the reality of a long-term comic project now, I have numbers and logs to prove it and my range. And I’m fairly consistent, even in my low days. So.. in recent years my writing style has.. has changed to accommodate.. Those.. General Realities i’ve observed in myself.

That’s why the second arc excites me. It has a lot of uhh, urgency that underlies it. You might have already noticed a change in the tone in chapter 16, which I’ve been working on for almost a year now. (I mean, I’ve been working on the written version for.. LOL.. much longer.) Maybe you haven’t! It could all just be from my own POV with how differently i feel that I delegate time to characters now. I did not start “writing” FFAK until chapter 10, and then i did not really start WRITING writing ffak until about.. Honestly, i want to say as late as 2019. It TOOK SO LONG you guys. I dont even know how many fucking thousands of pages of madness word documents I’ve got, with revision after revision and trying to list, contain, every possibly plotline… character backstory.. Blah blah blah.. Ive cut it down so much its impressive only to me. I don’t remember my lore anymore , and i love it. My readers probably know my lore better, and I don’t love it. Except when it benefits me. Then Its good. I would not describe myself as a RUTHLESS cut THROAT author, im actually too way sentimental to really let go of anyone. That’s why it took me so long to kill off Rock, but also because I wanted spoon to look really sexy and evil and that’s hard to do sometimes when I cant remember what half side he is. And when he was flipping around, I had to actually make a paper doll for him so i could TRY .. TRY to draw his arm on the correct side. Sometimes I didn’t. I just let it go if the drawing is good enough and i let it be a fun game for the readers to catch. But anyway, That’s why characters like Aeschylus are still around. Now that time has passed, I kind of regret it. Rome was right.. I dont need Aeschylus here and I’m mad he brought his friend Randall too. That being said, they’re some of my favorite characters in this arc even if they’re totally useless. In general, i have tried my best to not repeat all my writing sins and all my regrets of arc 1. I would not have been able to do this without the help of NRD to help get me to see that I can get attached and motivated to write new stories. When I hit my writing block in 2016/2017, it almost broke FFAK. FFAK still continued, but it also didn’t. But i was patient, and i worked through it.. And now I look forward to the ends of my comics, not because I want them to end but I’m very deeply excited for all the new opportunities my imagination to go to. I don’t know what that will be like. I don’t know how long it will still take me to get there, but I have it on [digital] paper and it does feel good to see that. Its affirming. I feel like i have a clear mission and I feel strong enough to really do it and commit to it. The second arc has barely started but in my heart I’ve made peace with the ending, whatever it might actually result as.

Plus if I finish it and its so bad, I’m sure that will be inspiring in itself! People might actually write fanfics!! I think a lot of readers are NOT going to enjoy the ships, for one. The MEAN greedy part of me hopes they don’t. That’s the most ruthless part of my writing to me is the ship choices. Oh! My evil mind. I mean theres no possible way to please everyone, or even myself, but there is a possible way to displease a lot of people. Including myself. So that’s kind of the route I find myself drawn to. Why? Because it gets me out of the hole of like.. I dunno, being stuck.

I used to write out a lot of big posts but over the years, I’ve kinda stopped. Mostly bc they were honestly really repetitive..or about lore that didn’t truly matter too much… That hasn’t really changed. This post is more or less “im still working on it, everyone! Just hang tight! Wow it’ll be a crazy wild ride” but it also is something I wanted to write to myself as words of encouragement. This has been a tough year. Like so tough that its hard to think about. But its very nice to feel like, i guess, my drive for my stories hasn’t gone anywhere. If anything, i really feel like i’ve gone through the mourning and ego death of “not being able to write a thing how you want” and now I’ve made total peace with it. Its just gonna be what it is, and I like that actually. When my life is tough, my comics at the moment serve as a place of hope for me - and assurance that I can survive through tough years. That’s the message they have ultimately given me, finished or not. And… I honestly don’t think of FFAK or NRD as my masterpieces or anything, but i know they might very well be the only stories people will know of when they think of me. If they think of me! So I wanna do a complete job with those. Rest assured, it’ll get there. I cant make big promises about all the comics I work on… even the bonus comics for FFAK, but at least those main two are my main priorities. That has not changed. THE FIRE is still in me. Even if FFAK took a like.. Mental.. 5 year hiatus its back baby.

I’m about 30 pages in to my 50 page script for chapter 16, so I guess it’ll be around 300-400 pages more before its done. Things are picking up speed! So it could be less. I am also preparing for the monster that is the 7th nasty red dogs chapter. I cannot stress ENOUGH that this next chapter, I have put off since chapter 4. Yes, I’ve actually buffed the story out to be longer than it intended, just to avoid drawing it. I even put a horse guy in there, I never draw horses because those ALSO have legs but they’re worse than dog legs. And, its not that i didn’t want to draw this part of the comic! But I didn’t think i could do it. It intimidated me. It still does, but, I’m gonna do it already. I know chapters 8-10 will be hard too but like…eh… I know in my heart its gonna really be about 7 for me. It always has been about 7 to me.. 2024 will be a big year for my comics for sure, just because of that alone I think. Not only will I have chapter 16 done, as the first step of the 2nd arc and a new adventure of my apocalyptic wormy drama, I’ll be facing my fears of the dog variety. Its TIME.

I’m so happy people have stuck around for my work, or shared it with others, even if they’re a strange mess. Its interesting to see, who comes and goes. I still enjoy refreshing my comments every morning when I wake up, and right before I go to bed. Its comforting.

My closing thoughts on this. I don’t HATE the ending of FFAK. I… like it! Its an ending. But I LOVE the ending to NRD. i think that ones legit good, i hope. With FFAK, part of me kinda hopes that turning up the pressure on myself of proceeding anyway will help the story. I don’t really know, or expect the ending to change though LOL…. Maybe i’ll come up with something better, but it will be too late so I cant do it or something, and then we can ALL write fanfics together of something else. Then sometimes I think about GUNNM and how the first ending was retconned but then last order was like? Basically the first ending again? I dont know actually, its hard to remember. THATS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN BTW. Also the ending is not everyone dies, even though that ending is fun and tempting. I didn’t do it, because end of evangelion already exists and its got a great song to go along with it too. YES it is also tempting to have someone go “WELL That was A FEAST.. For a KING” as the like final line, but I.. it wont wont. I prommy i take the ending seriously.

The reason I wanted to write all this, with webcomics, I think in general too people are so scared about writing their big comics that take 328523895235 years and the ending being bad. I see so many webcomics just, kinda die before the finale.. Which I totally understand, But I just.. Wanna show everyone that its much better and much more satisfying to just write the ending even if its a fucking disaster LOL. Because ultimately, its a webcomic. I don’t even know how to spell but people read mine! And so.. If theres anything I feel like i can promise and deliver to the world of the internet/my readers, is this big fucking disaster mess.. But it will end someday! And I’ll miss it. I hope readers will too, when that day comes (?) in probably another… 10 years…. idk.... BUT UNTIL THEN.. I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of chapter 16!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-Kosmic Dream

#ffak #feast for a king #nasty red dogs #long post #webcomics

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sincerely-sofie · 8 months

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Twig is my response to replaying PMD2 for the nth time and getting upset with how dry the Hero feels in comparison to the other characters! I’m really enjoying how she’s turning out, so I thought I’d share a little bit about my blorbo OC in case anyone reading my silly little comics is interested.

She’s a charmander— the reason for this is less because that’s what an internet quiz told me the personality I wanted for her would be, and more because the thought of “haha what if the leaf lizard’s bestie turned into fire lizard” grabbed me by the throat and would not release me until I declared it to be official.

The flame at the end of her tail is supposed to resemble a maple leaf in autumn as an additional nod to her grass-type buddies.

She nicknamed her partner, a mudkip, Kip. Kip the mudkip. She panicked and now she’s stuck calling him this because he absolutely loves it.

(Kip had a huge crush on her throughout their entire apprenticeship at the guild. She has no inkling that this was ever a thing. Grovyle's unable to believe someone would ever like him in a romantic way and Twig is no different.)

The gal's just a horrible little shambling mess of neuroses exclusively kept intact by the fear of submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

She’s 12-ish by the first chapter of the game and is just barely entering her 20s by the end of the post-game.

While she doesn't realize this thanks to her amnesia, Grovyle grew up way too fast in order to keep her alive, and she felt awful about this in the Dark Future. She tried to be as helpful as possible to take the burden off of his shoulders— or at least as helpful as an eight-year-old could be to a teenage magical gecko. Seven years later, by the start of the game, neither of them had an actual childhood despite both of their efforts to provide that for the other.

As a result of the previous bullet point, despite not being cognizant of the reasoning behind it, Twig has a thing about being a burden. She is convinced she is an awful burden on everyone at all times, and she is constantly scrambling to be sufficiently valuable in order to cancel out this burdensomeness— and she does this without ever even considering the idea that she could be a positive presence. She can only be neutral at best and negative at worst— in her eyes, at least.

(Are there therapists in Treasure Town? Asking for a friend)

Grovyle named her Twig! She had a human name at one point, but she never told it to Grovyle after running away from the hidden bunker of humans she once called home. With all her memories of her past erased, including those of her original name, it’s lost to time.

She's almost completely unable to read at the start of the game, and is only able to recognize a handful of footprint runes: Time, Avoid, Future, Past, Travel, Passage, Gear, Twig, Grovyle, and Celebi. She's weirded out by being able to read the name on Grovyle's wanted poster and ferret out that he’s wanted for stealing time gears without help.

(She learned these by trying to read the plans that Grovyle and Celebi would write in the dirt as they navigated the Dark Future and plotted out their rebellion.)

She jokingly stanned Grovyle before Dusknoir's true colors were revealed as a way to teasingly bug Kip, who didn't think it was funny to stan a criminal, even ironically. After chapter 16 and beyond it is no longer remotely ironic.

After the events of the post-game, Kip gets a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to pursue his childhood dream of being a cartographer. Twig encouraged him to jump on the opportunity, even if it meant them being apart for a time, and he reluctantly set off on a years-long expedition without her. They miss each other dearly, but they have become the ultimate pen pals and they’re keeping their local post offices in business with their individual correspondence alone.

Twig gets a bee in her bonnet one day about evolving and storms off to Luminous Spring to get it done. For some reason— perhaps a lingering distortion of time or space clinging to her— her evolution into a charmeleon is incomplete. She grew a little taller, lost some baby fat, and has a bit of a nubby lil horn, but she hasn’t got the height or coloring of a typical charmeleon. In addition to this, all your scars are meant to vanish along with your old form when you evolve, but one in particular on her right arm remained unchanged. The scar doesn’t bother her, but it does weird her out that it didn’t go away. She doesn’t even remember where she got it, so it’s not like it's special or anything… right? It kind of looks like a handprint. Weird.

She ends up getting a house in a place called Verdant Village just north of Treasure Town and doing odd jobs to keep the money coming in— she doesn’t take many exploration gigs because it’s not the same without Kip— and makes herself a nice life there.

(She has a family consisting of a gallade, gardevoir, and little ralts kid as next-door neighbors. The gardevoir could smell Twig’s rancid shambling-mess-of-neuroses vibes from a mile away and has made it a point to regularly try to get her to open up. Twig will absolutely not open up because she doesn’t know how to go about explaining her problems when they're centered around how she’s a former human originating from an alternate future that no longer exists, and that she spent a while being antagonized by the god of nightmares before he was blasted into the ether by the ruler of space and promptly disappeared, never to be seen again. There’s a lot to unpack there and she honestly would rather throw out the whole suitcase than deal with it.)

She was feeling nostalgic one day and decided to go crawl the mystery dungeon at Mount Travail, where she encounters an amnesiac Darkrai hiding in the bushes to avoid the fighting types prevalent in the area. After very awkwardly attempting to threaten him despite the increasing urge to just turn tail and run, it became clear to Twig that he remembered nothing but his name, and he didn't seem all that intent on world domination anymore. She couldn’t help but be suspicious of him regardless, but disguises her wariness as concern and gives him a place to stay at her house so that she can ensure he doesn't remember who he was and what his goals were before his memory was erased.

Thus begins the "And They Were Roommates" arc of Twig's life, where the plot swings rapidly back and forth between her comically desperate efforts to keep the origin of 82.9% of her mental illnesses from learning anything about his past, feign normalcy to bystanders when she goes to the market with a being of myths and legends trailing after her, and keep The Bad Thoughts from taking over while also trying to figure out how to explain to her friends what she's been up to for the past few months.

Shenanigans ensue. Friendships are tested and strengthened. Long-avoided conversations are had. Twig is, mortifyingly, understood. Healing is found and time keeps marching on.

(Also Darkrai ends up nicknamed Ark for similar reasons to Kip being nicknamed Kip. Thought I'd just sneak that in here.)

#stuff by sofie #the present is a gift au #pmd eos #pmd explorers #pmd2 #pmd sky #pmd #pmd oc #pmd2 oc

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floatingcatfeature · 11 days

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hey y’all this is my coming out post, i’m making a comic that is a zombie au of falsettos! i already have the first chapter written and the second chapter is almost done being written !! idk if anyone would actually be interested in it, but it’s my two special interests so i’m really excited to share it when i’m finished 🙂🙂

#falsettos #falsettos 2016 #marvin falsettos #whizzer brown #whizzvin #cordelia falsettos #charlotte #jason falsettos #trina falsettos #mendel weisenbachfeld #zombie #zombie au #please tell me someone actually wants this

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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 2 months

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the counterpart

chapter 3 — and there’s affection to rent

rating: explicit. i’m sensing a smut chapter approaching.

word count: 2,5k

pairing: viktor x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

cw: 90s au. they’re still playing chess, drinking, smoking, cussing, fucking (not yet, but eventually) and doing all the things you’re not allowed to read about if you’re not old enough. this chapter is just… pure dialogue and (not so subtle anymore) sexual tension, and i finally revealed their majors (took me long enough). consider this part a teaser. yeah.

ao3 link

part 4

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What’s the most important thing one learns in college if their major is painfully tasteless? Especially if said one is a lost girl — all ambitions, but no actual possibilities, kidneys so done with your rebellious acts of liquor consumption they might fail you much earlier than they did Bobby Fisher?*

Your professors taught you how to come up with an intriguing title. How to make sure your column is the most eye-catching on the whole page. How to journal properly, and how to not be a pussy when you’re interviewing someone hard-talk style — taught you how to bend over people and for people.

Those were petty things. Undoubtedly crucial for your education, yet still petty. They didn’t teach you how to live. They just made you sleazy and more sleep-deprived. The first trait could still be put to a good use, though.

But college? Oh, college taught you how to live. Not the beautiful concept of being a part of it, but the campus itself, specifically the dorms — your self-proclaimed, crude lectors. They showed you everything you needed to know: from friendly faces coated in thick smoke on the tiny balcony, to sweaty ones, all rolled out tongues and glassy eyes — the disgusting art of bathroom quickies.

But most importantly?

College taught you there are five types of men you have to stay away from: bishops, knights, rooks, cowards (kings) and pawns (your favorite ones to devour).

Bishops are mouthy. They’re harsh — vile, even. Greedy heartbreakers, easily irritable when something refuses to get out of their oblique, grabby path. Mediocre in bed: unnecessary rough, redundantly rude in dirty talk. Terrified of any feeling that doesn’t involve hatred or malice. Smartasses (in a bad way). Pass.

Knights are immature. They have potential — a contentious one, to be frank, yet it’s still there, slightly palpable in their endless promises and occasional gentlemanly habits. They’re deeply insecure — self-conscious, even, always underestimating their power. A good base for raising the perfect partner — if only you have the patience to spare, that is. Not as unbearable in bed as the previous category. Sometimes they cook great breakfast the morning after.

Rooks are superior. Straightforward, yet humorless; good listeners, yet awful comforters — oh that constant lack of the golden mean, the complete inability to lie. They’re reliable, but not fun to sleep with. Not fun to date either — it’s almost like these men paired for life, invariably with someone as insufferably stable as their stoic demeanor. You still liked them though; but only as a rare, handsome dainty — an audience perfectly suited for your drunken monologues.

Kings and pawns are not worthy of being elaborated on. Skittish and obedient, former ones too selfish in bed, ladder ones too pathetically down bad. Finita la commedia.

In conclusion: one should play with those pieces, yet strictly avoid committing to them — to save the tears when you make an invariable sacrifice.

That thought spun inside your head — doomed and stupidly petulant, recycling itself slowly to a flavourless overchewed gum on the convex surface of your tongue, persistently threatening to jump out of your mean mouth any second. You wondered — shamefully, with an almost shy tredipation, — how would Viktor react to this incredible wisdom of your creation, how comical — or plausible, perhaps? would he find this metaphorical conclusion to be?

But you refrained from revealing it to him just now. No, you couldn’t care less about invoking a potential little discussion — not when he’d just returned to the still equipped with a chess board desk, and certainly not when your hand was settled so perfectly into the tender grasp of his. A set of longer, paler fingers twined oh so cautiously around your wrist, securely preventing it from any occasional twitches. Tending to your wound with special gentleness — as if he was constructing a fragile weapon, a thing dangerous enough to explode all over the place if he treats it with something bolder than a ghost of a touch. So concentrated: he pressed the tiny piece of cotton to the bloody mess under what once used to be your nail; shushing you softly when you flinched, feeling the saline lance right through the weak digit.

“Stay still for me, would you?” Viktor frowned, carving an angry little stroke into the back of your palm — a firm affection just for you to giggle about. The ambience around him didn’t resemble the one libraries usually possess anymore. It was an appointment now, and you adored the way he turned the place into a makeshift clinic with just a few quickly grabbed from the pharmacy trinkets.

“For you?” you pulled a taunt — an innocent one, yet utterly unsubtle in its intentions.

“Well, I’m your doctor,” he wreaked vengeance with a playful protest, elegantly twisting your implication. A reciprocation, of sort; a playful thing returning every single one of your tortuous undertones. “It’s only natural that you listen to the professional’s recommendations.”

He wasn’t clueless anymore. He wanted to proceed. He begged to proceed, actually; grazed your forearm approbatory and dull, then dared to crawl into the sleeve of your shirt. Just the briefest presence of fingertips under the cloth — peak intimacy only a library could provide.

“But I’m not quite deceased yet, and last time I checked — you were a mortician,” — a shot back, witty and precise. Had him chuckling warmly as you raised your head, allowing the copper to meet your irises with a playful tingle.

“Believe me, I can be versatile,” Viktor assured, only giving you half a tease to work with, to unravel. Submitting his gentle touch and returning to the medical one instead, carefully pulling out a patch out of his pocket after a short session of rummaging around.

“Oh, I already figured that much,” you allowed him to lead — both literally and figuratively, careless about the way he victoriously pointed out the flush on your face — barely as crimson as the disaster he cleaned up for you, yet still pleasantly noticeable.

That boy was no usual rook, knight or bishop of yours. Needless to mention something as fearful as a pathetic king.

There was something slightly pawn-like about him though — but you didn’t hate it like you normally would. You didn’t mind a little submission. You adored it. You wanted him at your mercy. Erotically so, to be precise. As if him wrapping a patch around your swollen finger isn’t erotic enough already.

Although it wasn’t mercy that made him care for you.

It was tenderness. A thing all the five-types-one-should-avoid were not capable of on their own.

Viktor broke the silence with a strangled little cough.

“It might ruin your nail-polish,” he warned, eyes flickered between you and already tinted with a humble red spot patch.

“As if there’s any nail left to apply the polish to,” you hissed, wincing at the sharp sensation stinging that sensitive piece of skin — no doubt staining the fresh little rag even more. Viktor tried to ease your suffering with an almost friendly pat on your shoulder.

What a way to ruin the eroticism.

“A tragedy, if you ask me,” he whispered, short and sweet, with a contrite little sigh, “you messed up a perfectly nimble hand.”

“You don’t know the first thing about compliments, do you, Viktor?” you pricked back, harmless and waggish; a careless, erratic thing, — already too far gone to stop those lively amber eyes from scanning you with terrified unease: had he said something stupid? Had he failed in humoring you?

You pulled him firmly straight out of the paralysis of his distress, fingers yanked gently at his to put them — now skittish and a little tense — back into an intertwinement with yours, demanding they linger there, safe and tender.

“I’m getting there,” he budged, slowly growing less fidgety against your touch, “Forgive me, I’m yet to master the art of courting.”

“I’m fucking with you,” you reminded handily. Watched him form a theatrical little scoff, but his teeth betrayed him, leaping out in an impish smile.

“Of course you are. You journalists love to torment people,” Viktor nodded, slightly tickling the underside of your palm with a relaxed swipe of a thick-skinned thumb.

You didn’t take it personally. You didn’t fancy your major enough to get defensive.

You didn’t question how exactly he found out about it either. His answer — tanned, handsome and talkative — was most likely rotting in bed right now, still half-alive from his birthday black-out even though it’s been literal days. Besides: if Viktor were to ask how did you find out that he’s an exceptional future engineer or that he’s a winner of multiple open chess championships — you’d send him straight back to Jayce too. The source was obvious.

“You know what I’m majoring in? Did you make a dossier of my poor persona?” you chose that torment instead. At his service, you gave the man precisely what he’d requested.

A thoughtful one, a pretty disgrace at his whim.

He should’ve been more careful with his desires.

“You’re not a project of mine to keep a dossier for you,” he reproached smoothly. “Unless…” his tongue clicked in thick suspense, “you’d allow me to make one. For collecting kompromat, of course — a procedure every opponent should adhere to.”

“Kompromat?”

“Yes, kompromat,” Viktor confirmed, unaltered.

“But I’m innocent,” — a cheeky lie, blatantly obvious. Had him squeezing your hand to prevent you from sliding out of his grasp, all too tight for a man that shrinked into a handsome flustered mess at your first attempt to crawl under his pale skin. Perhaps he simply took his sweet time in comprehending that he’s allowed to be vengeful.

“A cruel woman, mercilessly flirting with her opponents to bribe them into resignation?” he deadpanned, evidently pleased with a newly established privilege of savoring your touch for however long he pleased. “What’s innocent about that?”

“I’m not trying to bribe you into resignation!” you sneered, now defensive. Pulling away to watch him sigh at the loss of you in his palm — but he didn’t chase after you. Viktor backed off, bitter and respectful, leaving you with just the aftermath of his touch and a blood-stained patch tightly wrapped around your phalanx.

“You‘re not?” he whispered, suddenly reminded of the library’s policies.

You soothed him with a nod, following the trajectory of his wandering eyes. Pushing the amused hum back into your mouth as Viktor forced his sleeve to roll up, exposing a worn down watch. Apparently also reminded that he does not, in fact, belong just to you this Friday.

“I would use more… radical methods if I aimed to bribe you into anything at all,” you laughed out a raspy sound, no doubt feasting upon the way he stirred, wrapping that food for thought with him to go.

“How reassuring,” he murmured back, brushing his upper lip in a pensive, fleeting lick, eyes darting to your still full of unfinished business board.

“You’re leaving?” you mumbled rhetorically, hating just how desperate that came out.

“I’m afraid so, yes,” Viktor mused, reluctantly grabbing the clocks he brought with him, “but I still have to show you the draw. If only we could arrange another meeting.”

“But we weren’t recording our moves,” you groaned at the silly oversight, watching him rise heavily to his lanky legs, stretching above you into a tall pretty sight. “I don’t trust my memory to that extent.”

“Well, I do,” he objected, nestling his hand into the arched hilt of his cane, preparing to leave you — lonesome and terribly lacking his calming presence — in the legendary place of your duel. Making a bitter, sad-eyed mess out of you — a devastated subject abandoned in the filled with the smell of yellow pages air.

But you weren’t exactly known for your unlimited patience. If anything, it was the other way around — you wanted him to indulge you now, to turn on those heels of his and sink back down in his squeaky chair, letting you devour his genius as fervently as you pleased — oh the price you’d pay to dive into his mind, to watch him think, and defeat, and conquer.

“How does your schedule look on Sundays?” you uttered before your restless brain got the chance to turn it into an overthinked burden. A brave one — you had your eye on him and were determined to make it abundantly clear.

And Viktor, albeit still discreet, was determined to reciprocate.

“Normally — not eventful,” he laughed, delaying his departure to spare you one more sweet glance, “but this Sunday I’m playing chess with a remarkably persistent lady. As long as she’ll have me, of course.”

He gawked at you with the repartee of a complete wiseacre, and you flinched with a giddy giggle, secretly hoping he’d emphasized that last part — or somehow specified it to prevent your mind from spiraling into all the different ways you could have him in. Oh the bitter consequences of being a smartass: sass is contagious and you poisoned him with it, dooming whatever boundaries and clarity this man had possessed before making your acquaintance.

But it also meant the world was now your oyster. And you took the opportunity by its slender, practically paper-white neck — so far only figuratively, but you wouldn’t be opposed to turning it into something gentle and tangible: if only he consented to it, of course.

“Sunday it is, then. My room, if you’re comfortable?” you suggested, pushing it half-cowardly.

“I’m not allowed in that part of the dorm,” he marveled at the bold offer, yet his response didn’t imply any objections.

“And you intend to stick to that?”

“Of course not.”

“Then it wasn’t even worth mentioning. Room 505, it’s the one on the second floor…”

“What if I get lost?”

“Say my name to any freshman-looking girl and they’ll walk you straight to my very door.”

“Do you have a reputation I should worry about?”

“Do you ever stop asking irrelevant questions?” you finally snapped, two steps away from turning a gentle neck-grip you fantasized about earlier into a cold-blooded murder in the middle of a college library. “I write essays to earn extra-cash, if you’re that curious. People around the campus know me. Now, back to more urgent matters: please, don’t show up before ten in the morning. No, scratch that — eleven is even better. I like to sleep in on Sundays.”

Viktor listened to you carefully — with the perception of a responsible server, almost ready to scribble down your every complex instruction, only lacking a salute and a devoted ‘yes, ma’am’ to complete the procedure.

“It’s been a while since I looked forward to play someone,” he’ll confess to you on his way out of the building, failing to hold that shy thing in the unreliable prison of his gritted teeth, leaning on that thin cane with the whole heavy essence of his trembling audacity. A test he dared to run only before slipping away from that wide-eyed state of yours, escorted by a row of now painfully familiar to you clacks of metal against the concrete.

And later, when that hot summer day will slowly melt into a hot summer night; when you’ll abandon the comforter of your bed to stick out of the window, half-naked and positively enraged; when you’ll smoke your third cigarette of the hour to tame the riot of aroused nerves — you’ll think about him, and about chess, and about the things chess made you want to do to him.

—

notes:

*Bobby Fisher — a grandmaster, the only American chess player to defeat soviet players at the time. Died of kidney failure at the age of 64.

tags: @zaunitearchives @blissfulip @thehistoriangirl @queen-of-elves @vyshnevska

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor smut #no beta we die like men #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #fic writer curse #the cunterpart

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camywamycam · 10 months

Text

what was left behind in the rubble P.3

702 words

soon to be harry x reader

TW//WRITTEN AT 4 AM BY A SLEEP DEPRIVED TEEN!!!

A/N

I know this is a short chapter and im sorry 😭 I finished writing this at 4 am because I can only write at night since I'm with my mom and siblings all day and I refuse to write in front of them 😭 maybe it wasnt a good idea to start a full ass fanfic story with a plot 2 weeks before I leave for summer camp but yolo, ive decided im gonna have this fic go from the summer - hoggwarts and y/n will start acting a lot more like Sirius iykwim

y/ns pov

................

If you had been in the right mindset, you would have impatiently pushed Remus away the second he stepped foot into your room. However, at that moment, all you needed was a hug. You clung onto the soft fabric of his cable knit sweater, which carried the strong scent of chocolate, cigars, and parchment. Remus held you firmly in his arms, patiently waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to open up about your thoughts.

"I hate him," you said in a broken voice.

"You don't mean that," Remus replied, his uncertainty evident in his words. "He loves you, he just... doesn't know the right way to express himself, that's all."

"Well, he obviously doesn't have that problem with Potter," you spat, your voice tinged with envy. "When I traveled all the way to Europe to see my biological father, I was kind of hoping he wouldn't be a total dick."

Remus sat and listened attentively as you rambled, finally realizing how left out you had truly been. The other children never spoke to you, and neither did the adults, except for the usual greetings. The more he spoke to you, the more he learned about your experiences. He discovered that while you were neglected at Grimlands place, you had met a group of muggles who had welcomed you into their friend group so at least you hadn't been totally alone. In the mere 45 minutes of conversation, Remus had already learned more about you than your very own father.

You and Remus continued to chat throughout the night in the room which you had made your own. For the first time in a while when you woke up that morning you didn't feel absolutely terrible. you turned to your side and checked your phone notifications before getting ready for the day.

you tried to sprint down the stairs as quietly as possible knowing the other adults in the house wouldn't be so happy about you sneaking off to hang around strange people whom they knew nothing about. It was almost comical how much they tried to control you when you and they both knew they didn't care about you in the slightest. As you raced down the stairs you bumped into a pale boy with messy black hair and glasses that were a tad bit too large for his face. "black." he spat "potter." "and where do you think you are going?" he said sassily

harrys pov

....................

it was strange seeing y/n actually dressed. since none of the kids went outside we mostly stayed in our lounging clothes. I took note of y/ns red top, flared jeans, a jean jacket that was covered in patches, and Converse. She actually looked quite nice... but I would never admit that.

"out." that's all she said as she tried pushing past me. I grabbed a hold of her wrist "What's your problem? You've been acting rude ever since you got here. You could at least try to talk to your dad." she scoffed in my face "Oh I've tried. he's the one who doesn't want me here." "Maybe he would actually like you if you weren't such a bitch." I was shocked at the words falling from my mouth. did I say that out loud? my thoughts were confused as y/n turned around and punched me square in the nose. Adults rushed in as they heard me fall into a vase smashing it while holding my bloody nose. Mrs. Weasly scolded y/n “what on earth have you done!” she screamed at y/n but she just looked around with a red face and big eyes as she rushed towards the door slamming it shut, not that anyone cared.

"don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry," you thought to yourself as you ran to your friends' house. luckily she asked no questions and just welcomed you in with open arms. you eventually told her what had happened at Grimmlands place and she was pissed. both her parents said you could stay with them as long as you needed. they even let you move into the guest room so you wouldn't have to continue sleeping on your friend's floor. you know that you can't stay here long since school is starting soon, but you might as well enjoy it while you can.

tag list

@moonys0chocolate @venomsvl @quackitysdrugdealer @superduckmilkshake

#Harry Potter #remus lupin x reader platonic #sirius black x daughter!reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter angst #poorly written fics

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cumulonimbuns · 10 months

Note

Excuse me a moment for TKSD, as I must scream.

(Pretend there's an 80 line long string of "AAAAAAHH" I don't want to actually fill up the dash with that much junk text)

I love it. Chef's kiss. Beautiful. Sidon my beloved. Link my beloved. Flying dragon breaking out of her mindless state my beloved. Mwah.

I feel it necessary that you are making my polyam partner very, very gooshy about the polyamourous society of Zora you've made. They've been having a rough time with so many "Yona jealous of link and sidon" and "Yona blocks off link from Sidon" shit, and you and the Secret Confessions To a Sage comic by @kenneduck have literally sent them to tears of the happiness of good, easy polyamoury. They've been very gooshy.

And I can't wait to see how Chapter 5 goes. The ending of chapter 4 was soo good, and I loved the entire story. The line in chapter 1 about how Link was a tool to use for the kingdom, not a person that can have desires Mmmmmmmm good shit angst. And the Whole Breakdown was so good and aaaa Link keeps fleeing. And Yona getting right under there and swooping Link out of there I love her. I love what you have done with her. Just. Aaaaah.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

I’ll scream for you, no worries lol!

But seriously thanks so much!!!!

And towards your partner, I COMPLETELY understand. I remember finishing TOTK and excitedly running to ao3. Only to see some of the first fics with Yona was just hating on her, or turning her character into a really mean lady who you’re supposed to root against. There’s nothing wrong enjoying your gay ships, but maybe don’t vilify female characters only bc they ‘get in the way’? It reminded me WAY TOO MUCH of my time in the Sonic fandom (I’m still a part of that fandom, always, love that silly blue hedgehog <3), and ppl would do the same to Amy in a lot Sonadow fics. WHICH DROVE ME INSANE.

I will always believe the hc of: wingman Yona, supportive wife Yona, or Poly Yona. They’re all wonderful <3 Just have these bitches love each other. It’s way more fun. I know once I complete TKSD I’d rlly rlly like to write a fic about SidYonZeLink, polyamory relationships are very dear to me, and I love exploring how complicated yet wonderfully caring they can be.

BUT OMG, I ALSO LOVE KENNEDUCK!!!! The Secret Confessions comic is just *chef kiss* GLORIOUS! I’m almost POSITIVE all of ya’ll have seen/read it, but if not—YOU BETTER GO RIGHT NOW AND DO SO!!! Their Yona is also so so so wonderful, she is so soft, and she and Sidon are so soft together. I love it.

I’m excited and nervous for chapter 5! I know a lot of y’all really wanna get to Link, but it felt important to write about the Sage’s to set up a couple of future events. I meant for it to be fairly short and then have a larger section dedicated to when they find Link, but thats… not exactly what happened. Atm the doc is at an even 19k word count (dunno how i managed that), and i still have a decent amount of things to write, SO…. Yeah. A lot of this chapter is really just about the Sages and the Sage’s bonding. If that’s not what you want than you can obviously wait til chapter 6, which spoilers, will be Link’s pov and ONLY about his recovery.

Thanks so much for all your kind words!! I rlly appreciate it <3<3<3

I hope everyone has a lovely day and that you enjoy future chapters and future fics!!

#ask #tksd #the knight’s self-destruction

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jasntodds · 1 year

Text

Caving In [9]

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

Words: 12,892

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, fluff, canon typical things, canon violence, it’s not explicitly said how jason knows about deathstroke so in my fic it’s public knowledge that aqualad was killed by deathstroke, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, a little bit of angst

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: So, I did some math and figured out I’m almost done writing this?????? I have a backlog of chapters written, just not edited so that’s kind of insane lol I’m very excited about it because I have so many more plans!! This chapter picks up with season 2 episode 2!! I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 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!!

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Over the next month, a routine develops for Gar and you. A few days of the week, Gar finds himself hiding out in your room. You were right, Dick, Jason, and Rachel don’t tend to bother him when he’s in your room. And you actually did make a sign that reads ‘keep out, ☠️’ and hung it on your door. It’s double-sided so the other side just says your name. You flip it around when Gar comes to escape and he finds it equally fun and sweet.

At first, you’d watch a movie or two and talk about whatever was bothering Gar. He’s gotten better at talking about it and it’s been a lot of him talking about Caulder House and his own nightmares of the day with Trigon’s bullshit. You didn’t know he had nightmares, too and you wonder how he hides it so fucking well. You’re not nearly as good at it as he is and you worry about him. You never want Gar to turn as bitter and calloused as you are about the world. He’s too good.

But, after the month, the talking and movies turned into something more comfortable. Gar will bring in one of his video game consoles. You will play with him sometimes but other times, you just like to watch. Gar likes Resident Evil and that’s a game you definitely prefer to watch. And Gar has his own collection of comics. You turned them down at first with not being a huge fan of reading, but after reading over Gar’s shoulder a few times, you got into The Walking Dead comics. Apparently, reading comics is a lot easier than reading a book. So, now it’s turned into Gar playing video games and you sitting with your legs on his lap, reading one of his comics in a comfortable silence, a joke here and there thrown around.

Training has also been going well for you. Your hands have healed and so have the rest of your injuries. You keep up well with Gar and Rachel now, the extra training sessions with Jason and Gar have helped significantly. And you’ve picked up knife throwing again, something you learned back in Gotham from one of the street kids you used to run with. You’re rusty and not a sharpshooter by any means, but it’s something. It eases some of the tension you feel in your shoulders.

When you can feel yourself wanting to lose it again because something brings back too many memories, you take Jason up on his offer to let you take it out on him. You’ll go for an extra sparring session sometimes, just the two of you and Jason helps you work through it without talking about it. It always makes you feel better and if you’re being honest, you really like the support system you have with the two boys. It’s something you never thought you’d have after your mom died but every day you’re so grateful for the two of them and even for Dick because he brought you here. That’s something you have no idea how you’ll ever be able to thank him for.

It’s a morning session now though and you’re in the training room with Gar and Jason while Rachel and Dick are out getting coffee. Dick has this bright idea to start blindfolding all of you to train because you can lose any of your senses at any time and you need to be prepared. Jason, of course, is really taking that to the next level by making Gar not have a blindfold while he does and making you sit out.

“Why do I have to sit out for this?” You fake-whine from one of the benches while Jason ties his blindfold behind his head and Gar stands in front of him looking bored.

“Because you have that combat shit. It defeats the purpose.” Jason snips back.

“Well, I don’t have to be blindfolded.” You mock him.

“Just shut up and watch us. Take some notes, you fucking need it.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Jay.” You groan, leaning back.

“When I give the word, come at me.” Jason says to Gar, holding his wooden sword out, ready to fight. “And don’t hold back.” He says, you rolling your eyes into the back of your head. Gar nods, looking bored and displeased with doing this. “Did you just nod?”

“Yeah, got it. Just, uh, don’t hold back.” Gar makes a jittered movement as if to be mocking Jason, you almost snicker from behind.

“Don’t kill each other please.” You mock.

“Shut up, Y/n!” Jason groans, tilting his head back. He takes a second to breathe as he gets into position. “Go!” Jason yells.

Jason swings the sword at Gar, but Gar just hits it out of the way while Jason’s sword is an inch from his face. Gar’s eyes widen a bit in shock and amazed, looking back at you. You make the same expression, humming in response. Gar pushes the sword from his face taking a step forward with a swing at Jason, only for Jason to move out of the way in time and jabs his sword across the front of Gar’s chest. Gar waves a hand in front of Jason’s face, making sure he can’t see anything. Gar gives you a questionable look and all you can do is shrug your shoulder just as confused as he is. Surely, Jason has to be able to see him because this is just weird. Jason talks about your combat clairvoyance, maybe he needs to look in the mirror. Jason pulls his sword back, Gar takes a step back and then the real sparring begins.

Jason and Gar move around the mat, blocking each other quickly. It’s definitely a sight to see because Jason might as well not be wearing a blindfold. Gar can’t get a single hit in and barely dodges Jason’s jabs. It’s as if they’re doing this perfectly choreographed dance. It’s equally entertaining, impressive, and attractive. The two boys sparing is always a big heart-eye moment for you. But, somewhere along the way, Jason seems to have lost track of his rhythm, completely flipping away from Gar, giving Gar the perfect opportunity to bonk Jason on the head with his sword. You start laughing while Jason rips his blindfold off, spinning around to face Gar.

“Hey, fuck man.” Jason gasps at Gar, clearly annoyed.

“You said don’t hold back.” Gar defends, you getting up from your bench to join the boys.

“What were you doing? I was fucking blindfolded!” Jason yells.

“You told him to do it!” You defend Gar. “He just tapped you on the head, chill the fuck out.” You can’t believe he’s actually mad about this. It was his idea to not have Gar wear a blindfold.

“Stay out of it!” Jason snaps, turning his attention back to Gar.

“You said:” Gar starts before he, poorly, mimics Jason’s voice with the same jittered motion as before. “Don’t hold back.”

“Should I get the hose?” Rachel comes strolling in.

“What’s going on?” Dick asks, following right behind.

“Jason’s being a baby.” You quip, crossing your arms as you stand on the other side of Gar.

“Hey, fuck you!” Jason’s eyes nearly bug out of his head as he snaps at you, Gar moving to block Jason’s view of you. Jason leans further forward to see you. “You could have warned me! Or fucking helped instead of doing nothing!”

“You told me not to!” You scream at him. “You said no because I have the combat thing.” You mock his voice, with a grimace before Gar stands further in the way to block you from Jason. He’s not sure who he’s trying to block from the other really, Jason is beet red and you look like you might strangle him.

“Um, hello?” Dick states, waiting for one of you to answer his previous question.

“We did what you said,” Jason turns his attention Dick. “The blindfold thing then he went nuts on me.”

You groan loudly, putting your hands on your face in frustration.

“He said don’t hold back.” Gar repeats, this time his voice louder and higher pitched, the annoyance growing.

“Then why do we even learn to fight like this, man?” Jason argues, throwing his arms to the sides. “Hey, it’s idiotic.” He takes a step forward, pointing at his head with wide eyes, almost a crazed look in his eye. “We have eyes.”

“In battle, anything can be taken from you.” Dick’s voice is calm as he walks further onto the mat. “Your hands.” Dick says before quickly twisting Jason’s arm and grabbing the wooden sword from him, making it look effortless. He moves to Gar, quickly using the sword to strike at Gar, Gar blocking a few times before Dick gets the sword right between Gar’s feet, just missing him. “Your feet.” Dick swings the sword at you, the sword aimed just a few centimeters from hitting you right between the eyes. You take a step back, eyes widening and crossed as you look at the sword. He swings the sword at Rachel, doing the same gesture. “And your eyes.” He pauses before stepping back, and putting the sword down. “No matter what is taken, you must be able to keep fighting and win.” Dick faces the boys and you again. “Alright, get changed. Attack scenarios in the tech room in five minutes. Then breakfast.”

You, Gar, and Rachel don’t argue and instead, leave the training room without another word, leaving Jason behind with Dick. This is a pretty normal thing. When training doesn’t go exactly how Jason wants it to, which is normally that he doesn’t win all the time, he gets mad and blames everyone else for it. This time, it’s just that it was Gar who wasn’t blindfolded. It’s gotten a little worse over the last month, Gar and you are pretty sure he’s just stir-crazy from being at the tower and not having any real crime to fight. He’s probably bored of sparring with you and not being in Gotham so the two of you let it go easily.

“Why does Dick sound like Daniel Larusso?” You ask as the three of you head down the hallway.

Rachel lets out a chuckle. “He literally sounds like Mr. Miogi.”

“He says we watch too much TV, maybe he needs to stop watching the Karate Kid and Cobra Kai.” Gar laughs.

“Maybe he doesn’t know what to do so he’s looking to them for inspiration.” You jokes.

“Someone should tell him it doesn’t work like that.” Rachel adds in.

“Awww, but it’ll just break little Dicky’s heart.” You mock, placing your hands over your heart with a fake pout.

“Yeah, I’m looking to be on his shitlist.” Gar chortles as the three of you reach your rooms.

“He would never put you on his shitlist.” Rachel scoffs, Gar raising a brow at her.

“He’s taken you right on under his little batwing.” You add in.

You joke about Dick but over the last month he’s grown on you quite a bit. He’s really not so bad when you’re not making him mad. He’s kind of making it obvious that he really wants to make sure you’re all ready before he sends you out on some type of mission. He can also even be funny sometimes and partake in jokes. He’s even joined all of you for a movie night so he’s grown on you but you have to poke fun.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Gar questions, looking between you and Rachel.

Rachel and you look to each other from across the hall. You shrug. “Well, I think we mean he’s really nice to you and sees you as responsible.”

“Yeah,” Rachel nods in agreement. “You always do what he says, besides that one time.” Rachel looks to you.

“Which was my fault so Dick didn’t fault you and probably admires your ability to risk getting into trouble with him to protect me and Jason.” You explain. “And it was just sparring.”

“That’s not true.” Gar defends. “I don’t always listen to him.”

You and Rachel exchange another look. “When was the last time you didn’t do what he said?” Rachel asks.

Gar stands for a second, trying to remember the last time he didn’t listen to Dick and as he thinks about it, you both have a point. He does do what Dick says all the time, without even questioning him. It’s who he is though. He exactly like to disobey authority. Sneaking out behind the Chief's back was different, this is Dick. And, every time someone has went against what Dick has said, shit hits the fan so maybe Gar is onto something.

“Okay, that’s fair.” Gar chuckles, looking to the floor and back to the two of you.

“It’s not a bad thing.” Rachel reassures him. “We’ll never be in trouble.”

“It’s not that bad being on his shitlist.” You state. “But, yeah, it’s not a bad thing. It’s probably better to not have him mad, though it is very fucking funny sometimes.” You gain a sinister grin.

“Okay, don’t listen to y/n.” Rachel rolls her eyes with a sigh. “It’s not funny and it’s best for everyone to not piss him off.”

“I haven’t pissed him off in like a whole week, that’s a record.” You hold your head up high, Gar chuckling under his breath.

“You are proud of that, aren’t you?” Gar asks.

“Kind of.” You giggle. “No, but really, Rachel is right. It is better not pissing him off, he’s kind of cool when he’s not mad.”

“Yeah, I’m not looking to make him mad anyway.” Gar shakes his head. “You and Jason have that handled.”

“They are very good at it.” Rachel mutters.

“Teamwork.” You grin.

“Okay, get changed.” Rachel cuts the conversation. “Otherwise he will be mad because we’ll be late.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You joke, walking into your room, Gar following your lead and heads into his room.

Later that night, the four of you found yourselves doing your own things. Gar and Jason made up while you found yourself in Rachel’s room. Rachel is sitting at her desk while you’re laying on Rachel’s bed, upside down with your head off the end of the bed, looking at Rachel. Usually, when the boys hang out, the two of you spend time together. You like to give Rachel shit for being Dick’s lap dog but you do like her and enjoy spending time with her. Rachel really likes having another girl around, the month she spent with boys was not the best. She loves them, besides Jason, but they’re a little much sometimes. Too much testosterone in one place for her liking.

“So, when do you think Dick will let us do something?” You ask, scrolling through your phone, keeping your head hanging off the end of the bed.

“Not you, too.” Rachel groans.

“What?” You question, moving your phone to get a better look at Rachel. Rachel just widens her eyes and raises her brows. “No, I mean, I’m just wondering. I’m not gonna go rogue again, I promise.” You roll your eyes, a smile coming to your lips.

“Mhm.” Rachel hums. “I don’t know. Do you really think we’re ready?”

“Oh, I mean I think I am.” You quip. “Ya know, given the track record.” You scoff. “Jason’s probably been ready in his entire life. You and Gar seem to be fine.”

“Yeah, but we don’t stand a chance against Dick even if it’s us four against him.”

“We could if he’d let us use our powers.” You wave your left hand at Rachel, your palm glowing green.

Rachel rolls her eyes. “I don’t have that kind of control, Y/n.”

“True,” You start, pulling yourself up and flipping around to lie on your stomach and face Rachel. “But, if he would let you use your powers maybe you’d gain some control.”

“That’s not how you did it, right?”

“No,” You scoff. “But, it’s probably different for you. You were born with them and your powers are clearly stronger than mine. Maybe not using them makes it worse.” You offer. “Your side.” Your words go hesitant.

Rachel’s eyes widen, surprise and a hint of panic consuming her face. “How did you--”

“Don’t freak out, but I saw them when we were sparring. I didn’t tell anyone or anything.” Your voice is nonchalant but understanding.

“Thank you.” Rachel’s voice is soft. “Can we not talk about it?”

“Sure.” You shrug. “What’d you wanna talk about?”

Rachel gains a cheeky smirk and you can already tell where this is going. “So…about the boys.” Rachel’s smile splits her face.

You let out a dramatic sigh. “Yes, Rachel?”

“What’s going on?” Rachel laughs.

“Whatever do you mean?” You play dumb, an innocent smile playing on your lips.

You know Rachel isn’t oblivious. You tend to flirt with both of them and you are almost always with at least one of them. Over the last month, it’s just become a little more obvious.

“Come on.” Rachel laughs. “Do you like either of them?”

Rachel is curious, sure but she sees how you flirt with Jason. It’s different with him than it is with Gar, anyone could see that. Gar is Rachel’s friend and while she likes you, she is kind of worried that you’re playing a game with the two of them. If you hurt Jason, fine, he’ll probably deserve it but not Gar.

“Hmmm.” You hum. “Oh, yeah.” You nod quickly.

“Which one?!”

“Both.” You state as if it were obvious.

“Right, okay.” Rachel nods, trying to wrap her head around someone actually liking Jason. Gar she completely understands but Jason? “Both of them?”

“I know, you’re really trying to not gag at Jason.” You laugh. “He’s, ya know, a smartass and hot and shockingly funny.” You neglect to include every nice thing Jason has said to you and done for you, something you like to keep like a secret. “And Gar, well, I don’t think I need to explain Gar.”

“Okay, so what are you gonna do about it?” Rachel asks. “A love triangle.” Rachel has a teasing grin with her words.

You grimace. “Ewww, I hate love triangles.” You groan. “I know what you’re gonna say, but humor me and tell me what you think.”

“Well,” Rachel leans forward, resting her elbows on her thighs, hands holding her head. “Fuck Jason,” Rachel starts, getting an eyebrow raise and a devious grin from you. “Not literally, oh my gosh.” Rachel rolls her eyes as you chortle. “He’s an asshole to everyone, including you.” Rachel argues against Jason.

“Right, yeah, but he is also nice to me and I’m also kind of an asshole to him.” You defend with the scrunch of your nose.

“Yeah, but today, you didn’t even do anything and he was throwing a fit because you did what he asked.”

“Okay,” You nod tilting your head to the right. “That’s a fair point, actually. Continue.” You put your elbow to the bed, using one hand to hold your head up.

“He calls us freaks.”

“I think Jason thinks everyone is a freak though.” You state.

“Maybe, but it’s still hurtful.” Rachel argues.

“Doesn't really bother me." You shrug casually. "Also, fair though.” You nod in agreement.

“He didn’t stop you from going to Jerry’s which was a bad thing, Y/n.” Rachel points a finger at you, disapproval on her face.

“But he didn’t let me go alone, Rachel.” You mimic her actions.

“But, but,” Rachel starts. “Gar would have tried to stop you and went with you if you were still insistent on it.”

“Wait, how did you know Jason didn’t try to stop me?" You furrow your brows, putting your hand back down.

“No one believes he tried to stop you.” Rachel laughs.

“Alright, you’ve got me there.” You state. “But, you have to give me one pro to Jason otherwise it sounds too biased.”

Rachel pauses trying to think of something good to say about Jason. She actually didn’t hate him originally. She kind of liked him actually but after the whole Trigon situation, he’s been pretty nasty to her. They can get along and be civil of course, but when Jason’s mad, Rachel tends to be the person he’s the most mean to and Rachel has grown to think he’s too entitled and too arrogant. Neither of them have actually bothered to have a conversation about any of it or figure out how they can get along better.

“I am biased.” Rachel laughs, not able to come up with anything. “He’s just so,” Rachel grimaces. “He hates me for no reason.”

“I meeeaaannnn….” You wince.

“What? Did he say something?” Rachel leans forward and if you know something, she is all ears.

“No, but it’s not that hard to figure out from where I’m sitting.” Your eyes go a little wide and you’re surprised Rachel hasn't figured it out.

“Well, tell me! I don’t like that he hates me.”

You pause and for a second you debate saying anything. It's not really your place. But, Jason also hasn't told you why he hates Rachel. This is just you putting all of the pieces together. Rachel is your friend anyway and it would be a lot easier if the two of them got along so, you decide to tell Rachel what you think.

“Okay, from where I’m sitting, it seems like he hates you and thinks you’re a freak because he was possessed, right? Seems like the issues that surround you guys is because of that night, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Gar is a bit…wishy-washy about Dick. He listens to him maybe a little too much sometimes. He’s protective of you, sure, but he’s a different kind of protective when it comes to you. Jason….hates you. I’m just saying, all of you have that night in common, right?” You ask and Rachel nod. “And how was Jason when you first met him?”

“Fine, he was…Jason.” Rachel laughs softly. “Cocky, charming in his weird way, a bit braggy about Robin but kind of funny.”

“Okay and he was chill with you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what happened between Chicago and Trigon?”

“He helped Dick with something and Dick sent him back to Gotham. He showed up at my mom’s with Dawn and Hank, Trigon was there already.” Rachel explains plainly.

“Mhm, and you and Gar were?” You gesture a palm out, moving it in front of you.

“Trying to escape.” Rachel furrows her brows, still completely following.

“Okay, so follow me: Jason gets sent to help Dick by Bruce because Jason is following in Dick’s footsteps as the new Robin. He’s a shiny new Gotham toy. He helps Dick just long enough for Dick to not be interested in getting to know the kid who’s taking over for him because Dick quit and sends him back to Gotham but Dick keeps you and Gar around, right? Two kids he, otherwise, has no relation to. At least Dick and Jason were taken in by Bruce and have Robin in common so they are, actually, like brothers. But, you’re just some kid who found Dick and Dick decided that was good enough for him to bring you under his wing and then Gar got to tag along and neither of you were sent back to where you came from, just Jason despite Jason offering his help.” You explain, speaking with your hands.

“Right, okay.” Rachel nods along.

“So, fast forward, and Jason shows up to help again. Only this time, instead of helping he gets possessed and starts trying to kill his best friend. He nearly beats his best friend to death because this random ass girl Dick plucked off the streets has a demon dad. THEN, because none of that was enough, none of that was good enough for Bruce and Bruce sent him here to be with, the older brother who didn’t want him in the first place and he gets to be with the person who his brother chose over him and got him possessed.” You finish your explanation.

“Uh…” Rachel pauses, blinking slowly trying to process everything. “I…I didn’t think about any of that. How did you even figure that out?” Rachel knows you and Jason are close but she didn't expect you to have this long explanation that seems to make sense.

“Yeah, I mean I get it. It happened to you, too. You were front and center. It’s not always easy seeing that kind of stuff when you’re in it. But, that’s just what I can gather from it. Jason seems to be someone who needs attention and just wants to know he’s doing a good job.” You sway your head back and forth slightly. "Gar's talked about it and Jason mentioned it which, when Jason mentions something like that, I think it bothers him at least a little bit."

“Okay, so what should I do? I really don’t want to hate him and fight with him all the time.”

“You could talk to him.” You state as if it's the most obvious answer in the world.

“Because that’ll go over so well.” Rachel mutters.

“No, you let him just talk his shit. Go on his little rant and swear fest that he does. He’ll call you a freak. He’ll just rant for like five minutes or whatever and then you apologize. Even if you don’t want to, you apologize to him and then he’ll feel obligated to apologize to you and then you can have a conversation about it. You just have to let him blow his steam.”

“You really get him, don’t you?”

“Trauma bonding will do that.” You chuckle. “As I said, sometimes being an outsider is easier. I didn’t know all that bullshit or what happened before. Plus, we do have Gotham in common.”

“So, I should just talk to him.”

“Yep. It really is that simple with him.” You let out a sigh as you nod. "He is not that complicated."

“Okay, I’ll give it a shot.” Rachel leans back in her chair. “Okay, I have something good to say.” Rachel states and you gesture a hand out, encouraging her to proceed. “He talks to you and he’s honest with you. And if he talks to you, I think that means he understands you like you do him. So, that's three for Jason.” Rachel gives you a proud smile.

You laugh “Yeah, he is and he does understand, actually.” You nod softly. “You may pitch your case for Gar now if you want.”

“For starters, he is cute!” Rachel squeals without missing a beat. “His green hair,”

“Looks so good on him!” You mimic the squeal.

“Yeah! And he is so protective and kind, to everyone even people who aren’t so great. He’s open and brave.” Rachel’s face softens. “He seems to make you feel comfortable.”

The corner of your mouth twitches into a soft smile. “Yeah, he smells like strawberries.” You laugh softly. “He does make me feel really comfortable, and safe. I feel like I don’t have to worry about anything. Um…one of my first nights, I had a nightmare and I thought Jerry was in the tower. He held my hand and searched the tower with me, knowing Jerry wasn’t around but he never made it weird or made me feel bad about it. He just…did it.”

There’s a warm smile that comes to Rachel’s face. “Hey, Y/n.”

“Hm?”

“I think you have an answer.” Rachel laughs softly. “If you really wanna go for Jason, that’s fine. I will never get it but if it makes you happy, I get it. But, you didn’t have that kind of thing to say about Jason and you got all soft about Gar.”

You pause because you do have similar stories to say about Jason. Jason still reads to you and he still lets you take out your aggression and feelings on him without ever questioning it. He was there through you beating up Jerry in the best way he could have been but you can’t tell Rachel that. You know Jason doesn’t want to be seen as soft for anyone, not with his friends anyway, and those things feel like little secrets between you. They’re like little passwords into your friendship that only you two have. It’s your things. Just yours and you’d really like to keep it that way. So, you have to shrug and nod along. You do really like Gar, you aren’t arguing that anyway. But, you do wish Rachel could see the Jason Todd you are so fond of. It’s not fair that Jason doesn’t even have a fair shot in a conversation like this. He deserves some type of fairness.

“I don’t know if I should do anything about it anyway.” You let out a sigh of defeat.

“What? Why though? You like them and it’s pretty obvious they like you, too.”

You shake your head. “I like how it is. If I decide to tell either of them I like them and something comes of that, it might ruin stuff with the other one and I don’t wanna ruin anything. I think the both of them have had too much ruined in their lives.”

Rachel shakes her head. “If you want to go for Gar, you should talk to Jason first. All jokes aside, I see how he looks at you and I see how he treats you when you guys think no one is looking. I don’t actually think you liking Gar will ruin it.”

Your brows furrow with Rachel's comment. The way Jason looks at you? You didn't think Jason really looked at you any kind of way. But, it's interesting because Jason is still relatively guarded. Easy to figure out when it comes to the trauma and figuring out why he is the way he is but everything else, he has this ten-story wall up. He'd probably combust if he knew Rachel saw him looking at you in any kind of way. But, it's something that warms your heart and makes you smile.

“You think so?” You ask, your face soft.

“Completely unbiased and actually thinking decently of Jason, yes.” Rachel gives you a reassuring nod. “Do you like Gar more though?”

Your cheeks start to burn. “I don’t know. I think so because it’s just…different with him. It doesn’t feel like a game with him.” You scoff. “I am endlessly afraid I’ll ruin him though.”

“What do you mean?” Rachel’s voice goes sad.

“He’s been through so much and so have I but he finds it in himself to be there for everyone, all the time. He seems to be accepting of everything that’s happened to him and I’m so afraid that I’ll never be that and I’ll just….ruin him with my pessimism and bitterness.” Your eyes go sad with the last statement.

Rachel wheels her chair over to you. “You can’t ruin him. He’s Gar.” Rachel gives you a soft smile. “He’s a lot stronger than you think. I think he’d do anything for you.” Rachel puts her hand over yours. “I saw the way he stepped between you and Jason today. He knows you can handle yourself but he did it anyway, I don’t even think he noticed that he did. You won’t ruin him.”

“Thanks, Rachel.”

“You guys would also just be super cute.” Rachel gosh.

“Oh my gosh.” You hang your head with a laugh.

You feel a little better getting to talk about it with Rachel. You would never bring it up on your own. Talking about your romantic feelings is not something you like to drown people with. And you feel bad for liking both boys. It’s not your fault, but there’s a guilt that echoes in your stomach when you think too long about it. Talking to Rachel though, helped.

You adore Jason. You adore who he is when no one else is around. But, maybe that’s the thing. Jason is different people around different people. You don’t know if he’d ever be able to be the person who he is in private with you publicly. You don’t want to play a guessing game with him. It’s too much for you, right now. But, with Gar, Gar is just who he is. Sure, he censors himself sometimes but everyone knows exactly how Gar feels about everything and knows what he likes and what he doesn’t. He’s transparent. He is comfortable in the best sense of the word. He makes you so happy and he never makes you mad. He makes your stomach twist with knots and bubbles. You swear you could never stay sad as long as you’re around Gar.

But, despite what Rachel said, it scares you that maybe your trauma could be the straw that breaks him. People can only take so much and he’s been through it all. What happens if dealing with all your shit, in a romantic way, breaks him? You would never forgive yourself for it.

A knock sounds on Rachel’s door, Rachel telling them to come in. And speaking of Gar, he walks in with two plates containing a slice of pizza on each plate. He’s all smiles as he walks in.

“I thought you guys might be hungry.” Gar offers the plates out to the two of you.

“Thanks, Gar.” You take one of the plates from him and this is a perfect example of why you like him. Always so caring and attentive to other people.

Rachel takes the other plate. “Thanks.” Rachel offers him a smile.

You take a bite and wince, Rachel eyeing you and then her own slice of pizza. You chew slowly, giving Rachel a thumbs up while Gar holds back a laugh. Rachel’s eyes narrow slightly as she takes a bite. Immediately, Rachel winces, pausing her chewing and you let out a laugh as you choke down your bite.

“It’s so bad.” You laugh.

“Who made this?” Rachel asks before spitting out the piece into the trash.

“Dick did.” Gar explains, laughing with you both. “The crust is made out of cauliflower.”

“Gross.” You grimace.

“Why would somebody do that?” Gar asks, the laughing subsiding as if he’s grieving for the pizza that could have been.

“If we hate eating, then we have more time to train.” Rachel says.

“Because he’s losing his mind.” You’re still grimacing about the pizza. The pizza never did anything to Dick and yet, he did this.

“Okay, so it’s not just me. He’s totally obsessed, right?”

“Like I said, Daniel Larusso.” You state.

"He just wants to make sure we're ready." Rachel sighs.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Gar chuckles softly. “What’re you guys doing anyway?”

“Talking shit.” You wink at him, Gar’s posture stiffening and you do love making him squirm.

“Just talking.” Rachel laughs softly.

Gar nods slowly. “Right, okay.” He clears his throat. “Movie night?” Gar asks.

You look to Rachel, a cheeky smile on display. “I’m always down for a movie night. Rachel?”

“Of course, we can make some popcorn since the pizza is a bust.” She laughs softly.

The three of you head to the living room, you and Rachel tossing your pizza slices into the trash in the kitchen before joining Gar in the living room. When you get to the couch, Jason and Dick are watching the TV, eyes glued to the screen. You sit next to Gar, following his stare on the screen while Rachel sits on the ottoman.

A police chase ensues on screen, Dick almost blocking the entire TV as he stands watching with his arms crossed like a dad in his fifties.

"We're live at a downtown car chase featuring a stolen vehicle. Police now seem to have the suspect cornered." One of the news reporters says as footage from the top of a parking garage shows a black car surrounded by cop cars.

As all of you watch from the tower, a girl with grey hair gets out of the car and without hesitation, starts beating up the cops. You watch in a state of awe and shock. Whoever that person is, they are very ballsy. Jason leans his elbows on his knees, getting this cheeky half-cocked smirk as he watches.

"Who the hell is that?" Rachel asks.

"Someone who has no self-preservation." You mutter.

"A total badass." Jason gawks at the screen.

Your heart sinks a bit with the comment. Other people can be a badass, that's not it. It's the way he's looking at the screen. His eyes are wide and he's in such a state of awe, it reminds you of the look he gave you after you beat up Jerry, after the initial shock of it. He's got a thing for violence, clearly and maybe it hurts a little but you will never admit that. Instead, you keep watching as the girl continues to beat up the cops, taking down every one of them who comes at her.

"The suspect does appear to be female. She's got silver hair. She does seem to be injured. We're not sure how badly." The news reporter says as the girl looks directly at the camera from the helicopter, her eye left covered with bloody gauze.

She is very pretty.

"Wait for it. We're not sure where she thinks she's going." The news reporter says as the girl runs to the car she 'stole' and leaps off the building.

Your jaw nearly drops as you watch. On second thought, Jason might have a point. That's pretty badass. Who just jumps off a parking garage? She's either crazy or knows something no one else does. It's impressive. Gar looks worried about the girl though and Rachel just looks shocked. Jason, on the other hand, is almost matching the expression on your face but with a bit more awe and infatuation.

"I'll be back." Dick says without looking back and just walks right to the elevator.

"Okay, what the fuck did we just witness?" You ask, looking around the room.

"Someone scared for their life, probably." Rachel says softly.

"A badass kicking cops' asses! It was awesome." Jason cheers.

"I'm with Rachel." Gar adds. "She didn't look badass, she looks scared." Gar glares at Jason.

"It was still awesome." Jason defends.

"Think Dick is going to find her?" You question, ignoring the back and forth between the other three.

Without a second thought, Gar closes his eyes and nods while Rachel and Jason say yes in unison.

"He has a thing for strays." Gar says quietly.

"Noticed." You laugh softly as you look down to your lap, a somber expression coming to your face.

"You guys still down for the movie?" Jason changes subject, sitting back in his seat. Rachel is the only one who catches the look Jason gives you. It's subtle, but his eyes linger on you just a second too long and his jaw clenches just slightly while his eyes soften just a little.

You shrug. "Might as well."

Gar and Rachel agree, Rachel moving to sit on the other side of you. It's Gar's turn to pick a movie. He chooses Back To The Future, a true classic. The three of you sit back and start to enjoy the movie together. You think about if Dick finds this girl. Will it change the dynamic? You’re actually really comfortable here and you enjoy where your friends are with everyone. If Dick brings someone else in, will that change? Of course, you knew you wouldn't be the last stray Dick brought home but it's weird with the potential to not be the new person.

Just as the movie ends, the elevator brings Dick up. The four of you all rush over to see if he found the girl who leaped from a parking garage. All four of you stand and watch the doors open, Dick carrying the girl who's unconscious. Gar, Jason, and Rachel jump into action to help but you step aside. It's not that he found her and you’re worried about the situation. It's that you wonder if this is what it was like when Dick brought you back. Everyone comes to see the new person, wonders if she's okay, who she is, and where she came from. What she is. It feels too real and it brings back every bad thought you had prior to being in the tower.

It feels too exposed and you remember how terrifying it was that first day. Surrounded by new people you didn't know if you could trust but having nowhere else to go. That, in and of itself, was also traumatizing even though it worked out for the best and you love it here. It was just scary so you stand back as Dick asks to Gar to come with him since Gar has some experience with injuries from staying at Caulder House.

"Hey, you okay?" Rachel asks seeing your distant expression.

"Huh?" You shake your head, almost not catching Rachel talking. "Sorry, yeah." You nod quickly.

"What? Scared you're gonna be replaced or something?" Jason jokes. His tone is his usual sarcastic, airy tone he uses when he's just trying to mess around. Not even a flirt, just joking but it strikes a nerve a little.

"Fuck you, Jason." You bark at him.

Rachel's even taken aback by the remark. This is what the two of you do and you’re the only one that fires back. Rachel expected you to say something about Jason being replaced but that's not it. And Jason is completely shocked, almost frozen in place. He was just joking and he knows you know that.

"Okay, fuck you." Jason snips. "It was a fucking joke."

"Well, maybe I'm not in a fucking joking mood, dude." You roll your eyes before storming off towards your room.

Jason stands for a second, looking at Rachel for help. "Did you guys have a fight or something?" Rachel asks, thinking you didn't because surely you would have mentioned that when you were weighing the pros and cons of the boys.

"Not that I know off." Jason scoffs. "Did you?" Jason's voice turns accusatory.

"What? No!" Rachel defends. "She was fine when we were hanging out."

Jason sucks in a breath. "Alright then." He shrugs, trying to play it off as if it's not bothering him but Rachel can see through it. Gar is helping Dick anyway.

"Just go talk to her." Rachel rolls her eyes, her words reluctant.

She's rooting for you and Gar. You're softer and cuter. Rachel, as your friend, is worried that if you decide you like Jason more and want to see where that goes, it won't end anywhere but in shambles. It's more than just Rachel and Jason not getting along. It's that Jason is a walking fuckboy. He's the dangerous rebel parents warn their teenagers not to date because they'll get in trouble and get their hearts broken. Maybe Rachel thinks too little of Jason but with Gar, she's sure Gar wouldn't hurt you, ever. But, you’re her friend and Jason at least understands you better than anyone. She isn't going to get in the way of that.

"You're her friend." Jason holds his head up, as if trying not to let on how he's definitely going to your room when Rachel leaves.

"So are you?" Rachel narrows her eyes at him. "I'm gonna go to my room and wait for Gar to be done, you talk to Y/n." Rachel nods once at him before turning and heading towards her own room.

Jason waits until Rachel's door closes and then he goes straight to your room. He thinks he's coy but he's almost as transparent as Gar is. Jason isn't subtle even when he's trying to be. Rachel isn't blind. She sees the way he watches you. Both of the boys do. Rachel has caught Dick nearly choking and grimacing at the three of you with your flirty jokes. But, to Jason, it's like he exists in a tinted bubble where no one can see any of it.

"Come in." You call out as you’re laid on your back on your bed, staring at the ceiling.

Jason opens the door, walking in and shutting the door behind him slowly. "How did you--"

"I heard Rachel shut her door, figured you were behind her." You don't look at him, just keep your stare on the ceiling.

"Alright, well what the fuck was that out there? I was just fucking with you like always." Jason huffs, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"It was just weird." You mutter.

Jason walks to the foot of your bed before plopping beside you, laying in the same position. His arm brushes yours as he turns his head to look at you and then back at the ceiling. The ceiling is white and boring, a stark contrast to the decorating you’ve done to your room. There are sketches across the walls you did with Dick's permission. Movie posts for some of your favorite movies are hanging sporadically on the walls. Your shelves have Funko Pops from some of your favorite shows. A few snacks sit on your nightstand. The room is yours, it's a home within a home but the ceiling is a sterile white, cold compared to the rest of your room.

"Like..." You pause. "Is that what it was like when he brought me back?" You ask, looking at Jason.

Jason looks back at you, your eyes about as welcoming as a hurricane. "Yeah." He answers honestly. "It was weird. You looked dead, though." Jason looks away from you, not able to hold eye contact.

It was weird when Dick brought you back, worse than weird. Dick went out to run an errand and then when he came back, he had a burn and you who literally looked dead. You were covered in bruises and cuts. You were limp and lifeless, without even knowing you, Jason is positive it broke everyone's hearts to see you. It didn't matter if you had powers or if you could fight, you needed help. It was one of the moments since Bruce sent him to train with Dick that he really viewed Dick in a different light, kind of like a hero without the mask (not that he will ever admit that). He just helped this random girl off the streets despite the fact you burned him. It was different. It was sad and scary.

"Gee, thanks, Jay." You roll your eyes, looking back to the ceiling.

Jason sighs, sitting up and turning to lean on his elbow, looking at you. "Look, I'm saying it was fucking freaky when he brought you here because you were really hurt." Jason explains and you catch a hint of sadness in his eyes. "And fucked up." Jason adds in. "He asked for Gar's help then, too. You know the rest, I guess. Gar wouldn't tell us what was going on with you."

"Why?" You ask.

Jason wrinkles his face. "Because you were fucked up."

"Fair." You nod before you let out a sigh. "I just hope she's okay, ya know?" You say. "It's like...seeing it just felt so fucking weird but I hope whatever happened wasn't too traumatizing. It made me....mad again. I haven't been mad like that since Jerry."

Jason nods with understanding. Seeing you like that, it was worrisome. You’ve got a fire and that’s why Jason finds you fun but, it’s how it went. It doesn’t matter that Jerry deserved it and you deserved to get revenge. You didn’t feel better afterwards because it didn’t erase what happened. And Jason doesn’t want you to ever feel that way again. He was the only one that was there for it.

"Wanna work it out?" He gains a smirk.

You decide to challenge him now. He came to check on you and just that bit of talking did make you feel a little better. It's not about being replaced. You know Dick won't replace any of you. It's just a bit triggering being on the other side of it this time. But talking with Jason helps.

"Work it out how?" You match his position, making your faces closer.

Jason's voice hitches in his throat. "However you want, babe."

The term babe is something he's grown accustomed to using when he's messing with you. To you, that's all it is. He's using it to get under your skin because it works. He gains this cheeky, taunting grin of accomplishment every single time he says it because you squirm in your seat. Your heart always skips a beat with the pet name. It's always this mix of wanting him to shut the fuck up and wanting to hear it in a way that's not him just messing with you, but like he means it. And you never know what to do about it.

"Shut up." You roll your eyes, pulling away. "You know what I mean, shithead."

"I call you babe, you call me shithead, huh?" Jason chortles, tilting his head to the right.

"If the shoe fits, BaBe." You mock, leaning in again, eyes wide and you see it for the first time.

Jason squirms and suddenly, you completely understands why he calls you it. It's the way his face brightened but his eyes shot open like a deer in headlights. It's the way he jerked his head back and you could visibly see him hold his breath for a second. It's a little funny and it's really cute.

"No, you can't use my thing against me!" Jason yells, a smile tugging at his lips with burning cheeks.

"Hmm, too late." You give him a confident smile before sitting all the way up.

He's fun. He's fun to mess with but you’re not sure if there's anything more than there. You aren't sure if you like him because he's hot and because he's fun or if there's something below the surface. He is this unknown iceberg that you’re trying to navigate around in the dark. There is always more than what's on the surface but you can't see how much. You can't tell if what you do goes more than a foot under the water or if it's nearly touching the ocean floor. The only way to know is to dive in, following the rugged surface as far as you can, risk drowning. Maybe some risks aren't worth taking.

"Get changed, meet you in the training room in twenty minutes." Jason sits up and gets up off the bed, a sadness filling his heart but in a way, accepting that it'll never be him.

He sees the way you look at Gar. He sees the way you and Gar are and how it's always more than a joke and maybe if Jason cooled it down and was just real with you in a normal situation, you could have that, too. If he could just, throw the sarcasm overboard in a normal situation, he could dive in with you. But, he's never been a very good diver.

"Yes, sir." You give him a fake pout and Jason narrows his eyes, the pounding in his chest, echoing through his ears. All he can do is roll his eyes at you before heading out to his own room to change.

You and Jason get changed and you head out of your room first. When you reach the kitchen, Rachel is grabbing a snack. You ask if Jason has been by yet but apparently he hasn't so you sit down to talk with Rachel while you wait. While you wait, Gar comes walking in from the other hallway, clearly done with whatever he was doing with Dick and then Jason walks in as if everyone were on cue. The four of you decide you'll all train together since you're actually due for a training session again anyway. But, before you can get going, you hear the sound of shoes. The four of you peek around the corner of the kitchen to see the new girl trying to sneak out of the tower. All four of you follow her to the elevator, staying back while Dick comes in from the other hallway.

"Going somewhere?" Rachel asks as the elevator denies the girl access to leave.

The girl turns around as Dick steps forward. "We need to talk." Dick says, the girl glaring at him with the one eye that’s not covered.

Dick sends the four of you off to the training room while Dick talks with the new girl. The four of you spar for a little while, making little to no conversation between you. The four of you are mostly just wasting time until you can find out what Dick and the new girl talked about and what's going on. You all have mixed emotions about it but all four of you are curious and intrigued. So, you train for an hour until you and Rachel ask Gar to grab a snack and a drink from the snack counter around the corner.

You sit on the floor, your hands resting behind you while your legs are stretched out and Rachel sits on a bench. Jason continues to practice with a wooden stick, more or less haphazardly while you wait for Gar to come back. Gar is only gone a few minutes before he strolls in with a box of Cheez-Its and three Gatorades.

"So, what do you think is going on out there?" Gar asks, handing Rachel the box of Cheez-Its and you a Gatorade.

"If it's anything like when I got her, bombarding her with too many questions." You say, opening the Gatorade.

"He's probably just trying to find out who she is." Rachel states.

"So, bombarding her with too many questions." You repeat as Gar sits on a bench.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" He asks.

"He sent you to talk to me because I refused to talk to him so kind of." You chuckle.

"He's giving her a cell job. That's what he does cause he can't resist a stray." Jason says sounding annoyed.

"As if it's a bad thing." You quip, gesturing your left hand around the room. "We were literally all strays."

"Don't take his side." Jason mutters, a whine in his voice.

"I mean I knew he'd be bringing in new people. I just didn't...I guess I just didn't think it'd be so soon." Gar explains with the shrug of his shoulders, leaning his elbows on his knees.

You tilt your head slightly to the right trying to figure out if this is what happened when Dick brought you back. They had only been together a month before you showed up so the fact Gar thinks it's still soon, hurts a little. It all worked out okay with you being here, so what's the difference between you and this new girl?

"We didn't even know if we can trust her. Hell, we don't even know what the fuck she is." Jason raises his voice, growing more dramatic.

"What she is, is a person who needs help." Rachel's voice is stern as she looks at Jason.

"Or," Gar starts, holding up his fingers, Gatorade in hand. "Is she a person?" Rachel tilts her head, giving Gar a displeased look.

"You guys sure do know how to make people feel welcomed." You roll your eyes. "Is this how you guys acted when Dick brought me here?"

Gar gives a yikes expression. "Well....yeah." He nods sheepishly. "We didn't know you."

"You burned Dick." Rachel adds.

"You also looked like shit." Jason points out, a grin on his lips.

"So? It all worked out with me. She's just a person." You defend the new girl.

"How did she survive the jump?" Gar leans in, voice raising slightly.

"So, you think she's a metahuman?" Rachel asks.

"Yeah, or, or an alien." Gar throws his arms to the side, defending his point. "Like Kory."

"I need to meet Kory, she sounds fun." You state, Gar gives you a questioning look, shaking his head before his eyes widen, as if asking you to agree with him. You let out a sigh. "That's kind of fair though."

"Really?" Rachel snaps her head in your direction.

"You said it yourself, I did burn Dick. If she's also a metahuman or....an alien..?" You give Gar a questionable look before looking back at Rachel. "We don't know."

"Well, if she was like Kory, those cops wouldn't be alive right now." Rachel argues, looking back to Gar before grabbing a few Cheez-Its and offering the box to you.

"She can fight." Jason chimes in, taking a short break from fighting the air. "Alright, I'll give her that. Whoever she is, she's had training."

"Did you guys see her eye? When Dick was changing the bandages?" Gar asks, clearly going somewhere with this.

"What about it?" Rachel asks.

"It was gone." Gar scoffs, almost amazement in his voice. "But the wound had already healed." He leans forward as if not completely believing what he'd seen.

"Well, that's pretty sick." You give an approving smile.

"You serious?" Jason asks.

"She's been here one hour and the three of you are already obsessed with her."

"You don't think it's sick as fuck that she jumped from a roof, into a building and her eye is already healed? That's awesome." You defend your stance.

"She's a freak." Jason huffs, his voice a higher pitch this time. "Look my vote is we kick her ass out." You scrunch your face at Jason just as Gar starts.

"Okay, wait, who says we even get a vote?" Gar asks.

"Who says she even wants to stay?" Rachel argues. "Look, it's hard to believe but maybe her idea of paradise isn't sharing a bathroom with you, Jason."

"Well, I think she should stay, just for the record." You state. "Assuming, she isn't going to kill us all."

"You do?" Jason scoffs.

"Uh, yeah, as the newest person Dick found on the streets, my vote is yes." You hold your head up high.

"It'd be easier if we knew who she was." Gar states.

"I know how we can find out exactly who she is." Jason gets that knowing smile on his face, the one that always says he's up to no good.

"Do I get to participate this time?" You quip knowing exactly what Jason is up to.

"I thought you said it was wrong." Gar points out.

"Well, yeah," You scoff. "But, I wanna know if she's gonna kill us, especially if Dick gives us a vote. We should know who's sleeping under the same roof as us, right?"

"See, she gets it." Jason says with pride.

You roll your eyes at Jason before looking back to Gar. "You didn't get caught the first time."

"Alright, fine." Gar agrees, still not liking the idea of going behind Dick's back again to look into someone but he's not gonna say to Jason and you.

"You knew and you're okay with it?" Rachel questions. Rachel knows she would at least be pretty mad if the boys went and looked into her instead of just talking to her. She's surprised you aren't mad.

You shrug. "I mean, it would have been nice had they just asked but let's be honest, I wasn't gonna tell them shit anyway. So, I get it. They had to make sure I wasn't a serial killer or some psycho."

"We could talk to her. Maybe she's more open than you." Rachel suggests as you hand the box of Cheez-Its back to her.

"I don't know, Rach." Gar sucks in a breath. "She didn't seem too willing to talk since she was...trying to leave."

"I'm not helping," Rachel shakes her head with disapproval.

"No asked you to." Jason chortles.

"Shut up, Jason." Rachel groans.

"Can we just get back to training?" Gar groans, growing tired of the conversation.

You get up with the suggestion. "Please."

The four of you start your training again until Dick walks in to tell you you call it a night. The four of you go your separate ways to your rooms and the bathroom for your nightly showers. All of you choose to leave the girl alone in her room. Dick said she isn't up for much talking but he's got it all handled, whatever that's supposed to mean. So, the four of you wrap up your night and head to bed.

It takes you a little while to fall asleep. Ever since beating up Jerry, you’ve slept a little better. Nightmares still rear their ugly head about once a week but it's better. It went from every night to once a week, which is an improvement. Beating up Jerry didn't help you feel better about what you went through but knowing that he got to suffer, knowing that Dick turned him in and you saved a little boy from the same treatment, it did ease some of the weight from your bones. It's just a matter of dealing with and working through the trauma he left you with and actually being at the tower surrounded by these four strangers, which helps because to some extent, they all get it.

No one wakes up one day and decides to be a hero. There's something deeper about it and for the five of you, it's trauma. The want and need to not let another innocent person live with what you went through and there's something remarkable in that. But, that doesn't erase any of the trauma you've all gone through. And for you, seeing the new girl brought in in the same way you were, it brings everything you tied down back up to the surface. Another nightmare scares you awake.

You sit up straight in bed, eyes wide but weighed down with sleep. Your heart is thundering in your chest, the room dark beside the city light illuminating your room through the window. Your hands are shaking in your lap, glowing green, something you’ve never even told Gar about.

When the nightmares are really bad, it's as if it triggers the acid and your hands start glowing. Luckily, it's never been bad enough that you actually produce the acid and burn through the bed. But, it is something that scares you even more. If nightmares can trigger the glow, what else can? And does that mean you’re losing control of it? If you don't have control, then what? You don't actually want to hurt someone, especially by accident. But, you choose not to wallow in it because it's not going to do you any good and it's only going to make you feel worse. So, you snatch your phone from the charger and head to your door.

You tip-toe through your door, closing it behind you and make the short walk to Gar's room. The door is unlocked just like it always is and the pinball machines give a blue glow to his room with the city lights shining through his windows. A comforting smile tugs at your lips as you shut the door. The green-haired boy is curled up on the left side of his bed, facing the door and Gar always look so comfortable sleeping, lips parted lightly. He's a lazy sleeper and you think it's the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

"Gar?" You whisper softly, sitting on the edge of his bed. Gar doesn't even budge. "Gar?" You call, shaking him slightly, stirring him awake.

He peeks an eye at you, his hair a complete mess. He gets this lazy-tired smile on his face as he sees you. "Nightmare?" His voice is rough and drenched in sleep, something you swear you could play on repeat for hours on end and never get bored. You nod softly, the smile falling slightly. Gar lifts the blanket for you. "C'mon." He mumbles, inviting you in.

"Thank you." You whisper to him, getting up and sliding under the blankets with him.

Gar turns over on his back, stretching his arm behind your head so you can lay on his chest. "Anytime." Gar looks down at you, this cute smile on his face that has the power just to make the world seem like a better place. Gar smiles at you and everything seems like it's gonna be okay, like nothing in the entire world will ever be scary again. There's a kind of magic about him and you adore every aspect of the boy with soft eyes and green hair.

You cuddle up against his chest, resting your arm over his torso and lightly gripping his t-shirt. You can hear Gar's heart and it's the most comforting sound you’ve ever heard. It's slow and steady. You remember the first night you went to him after a nightmare and it was awkward.

You didn't know what to do or say. All you knew was that he'd make you feel better and you didn't want to be alone. He did make you feel better but you were both...tripping over your own feet trying to figure out how to sleep or how not to. Gar didn't want to make it weird or be too in your face about it and you weren’t sure if you wanted to be too close him. It was a mess, actually but you settled on his chest anyway because that's what felt comfortable. That poor boy's heart nearly beat out of his chest for almost half an hour. He was so nervous.

He'd never slept with anyone like that before and he just adores you with everything in him. He never wants to mess anything up and he didn't know what to do. Gar followed your lead and it made him more nervous than he's ever been. But, there was a sense of comfort in it because you chose him to be with when you’re scared. Something about him, made you comfortable enough to fall asleep and sleep soundly. Something about him, felt right to you. And that makes Gar's chest swell every time you come to him for this. He wishes you'd do it more than just when you have nightmares but he never has the guts to ask. So, he wraps his arm around you while the steady pace of his heart lulls you to sleep.

You wake up first, before either of your alarms. You've moved throughout the night, you’ve rolled over, facing the door while Gar's arm is lazily draped over your waist. You can hear him softly snoring behind you and you carefully roll over as to not disturb him. The peacefulness of his face makes you smile as you watch him. And for a second, you almost forget there are other people in the tower. You forget about your nightmare just a few hours before and everything, right now, feels so right.

You feel safe and happy and comfortable. And calm. Your brain is quiet with him. It's not bitter or cold or full of range. It is at peace with every horrible thing you’ve seen and been through. Just...peace. And maybe that's what it's all about.

Maybe, it's not about flirting all the time or who makes you question the intentions of everything for fun. Maybe it's not about shared trauma or experiences. Maybe, it's just about who's there for you when everything feels like it's caving in. Maybe it's about who sticks around when the darkness closes the blinds. Maybe it's just about the person who lifts some of the weight from your shoulders when everything gets a little too heavy and maybe it's about the person that makes you comfortable and finally lets you feel peace. Maybe that's what it's all about.

But, that’s all just maybes.

"Do you always stare at me when I sleep?" Gar mumbles, voice drenched in sleep as he opens his eyes, blinking slowly at you.

"No." You scoff, feeling your cheeks start to burn. "You were snoring." You brush it off.

"Sorry." Gar chuckles softly.

"It's okay, I don't mind." You give him a smile. "You're cute when you're sleeping through, you look peaceful."

Gar's eyes widen and you called him cute. What does he do? "Oh...yeah?" Gar asks, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. "Thank you. Uh, so do you." Gar offers, as if waiting for you to laugh or make a sarcastic comment but you don't. Your smile is sweet like honey.

"Thanks." You look away just as yours and Gar's alarms start blaring at full volume. "Ew." You grimace, rolling over and grabbing your phone from his nightstand, Gar doing the same. "Want pancakes?" You ask, looking back at him.

Gar raises a brow, you’ve never offered him food that wasn't a snack before. "Sure? You can make them?"

"Wow, rude." You let out a laugh, your voice still filled of sleep. "Yes, the fuck I can, Garfield."

Gar laughs, the use of his full name makes flowers bloom his chest. He doesn't normally like when people call him it but you? You call can him Garfield when it’s like that. "I was just checking! Vegan pancakes?" Gar raises a brow.

"Hey, there, what kind of monster do you take me for to offer you pancakes and not offer a vegan option?" You quip. "Of course."

"Sweet." Gar beams at you and you offering to make him pancakes makes him feel really important. "Do you need help?"

You shake your head. "Nah, consider it a long overdue thank you for letting me sleep in here and for dealing with my bullshit."

"I don't mind." Gar says with ease as a gentle laugh leaves his lips. He never minds being there for anyone, but especially you.

"I know but I'm gonna thank you anyway and make you pancakes because you deserve it." You give him a cheeky smile before tossing the blanket off of you and getting up from the bed. "You can watch though." You give him a wink, the heat rushing to Gar's cheeks and you watch his eyes go wide, mouth moving not knowing to say. You scrunch your nose as you laugh. "You're also cute when you get flustered."

Gar lets out a sigh and he thinks you might be the death of him one day. "I'm not flustered." Gar defends, sitting up before rubbing his hands over his face.

"Mhm, sure, you're not." You nod, words leaking of sarcasm.

"I'm not!" Gar defends further with a tired laugh.

"Okay." You shrug, turning on your heels. "Sure." You snicker. "I'll meet you out there."

"Yeah, okay." Gar nods, falling back onto his pillows as you leave, leaving his door slightly ajar.

You make your way to the kitchen, Dick is, of course, already in there with his coffee. It's been a month and somehow you still almost always catches him while he's in here. Surely, this man has other things to do in the morning but no, he is always here. But, you just 'morning' him and walk over to the drawer with the pans, pulling out a griddle. Dick watches you with a raised brow, casually sipping his coffee. You grab the ingredients including regular milk and soy milk for Gar, one of the non-dairy options Dick keeps stocked for him. You continue to rummage through the kitchen, casually glancing at your phone for all of the ingredients.

"What are you doing?" Dick finally asks.

"Making pancakes." You say with confidence, measuring the flour into a large mixing bowl.

"Right." Dick clicks his tongue. "Since when do you cook?"

"Why is everyone so shocked?" You scoff, measuring the milk for Gar's before grabbing a sticky note and a pen from the counter, marking the batter with ‘Gar’.

"You haven't cooked anything that doesn't go in the microwave or isn't frozen since you've been here."

"Well, that's because it's convenient." You quip as Rachel strolls in, sleep still in her eyes. "I like convenience."

"Is she cooking?" Rachel asks through a yawn.

You look at her with wide eyes, pausing what you’re doing. "Okay, seriously?"

"What the fuck is going on?" Jason chortles as he walks in. "Since when do you know how to cook?"

"That's what I said." Dick raises his mug at Jason.

"You know what, none for any of you!" You glare at them, pointing at them with a whisk, some bits of batter dripping off the end. "I'll clean that."

Rachel gains this knowing smile as she sits next to Dick. "Wait, are you making Gar breakfast?" She asks and your cheeks burn. Jason's heart plummets into his stomach. He always knew but it stings.

"What makes you say that?" You ask, trying your best to not be obvious.

"You have the soy and dairy milk out?" Rachel points at the different kinds of milk. "I also heard you leave his room."

"Okay." Dick says loudly, getting up from his seat. "I don't need to hear more of that. Good luck making breakfast. It's very nice of you, Y/n."

"Thank you, Dickolas." You give him a thankful nod.

"Left Gar's room, huh?" Jason asks and Rachel regrets saying anything.

"Yeah...." You say quietly, going back to your batter.

Jason knew, of course he did. You mentioned it to him in passing. You sleep in there when you have a nightmare. And neither of you hides it. It's not some big secret or anything but with Rachel actually mentioning it, someone else mentioning it, it's like Jason is suddenly much more aware of it and it hurts a little. But, he reminds himself that he never had a shot anyway.

He plays this fuckboy thing up so much but he's never been much good to anyone anyway. And he knew it wasn't him because of the movies and the way you talk to him. Jason hoped it'd be him, but the pit in his stomach told him it wasn't so the only thing he can do is brush it off because that's what he does. And you see it across his face, guilt flooding your stomach, almost making you nauseous but you ignore it and continue making breakfast because you like Jason and you like Gar. But dealing with that early in the morning doesn’t sound pleasant, so dodges your sinking heart.

"Want any?" You ask the two of them.

"Please." Rachel gives you a soft smile.

"Yeah." Jason nods, pulling out his phone and scrolling away.

You continue making breakfast as Gar strolls in, a bit surprised to actually see you at the stove. You really don't cook and it makes Gar chuckle to himself. Dick actually does a lot of the cooking but it really is rarely ever good so you normally end up with a frozen pizza or takeout. So, this is nice and something that Gar never really expected from you. You’re so snippy and sarcastic that whenever you decide to be soft, it throws him a bit but in the best way. You’re full of surprises and Gar wants to know all of them.

As the four of you sit down with your breakfast, Dick walks out with the new girl, explaining they were leaving for a bit. The girl made a comment about not wanting to stay which prompted Rachel to ask why. The girl didn't have much of an explanation, looking more like she just wanted to leave and not turn back. Dick didn't really say much else though and just like that, they were gone.

"You still wanna know who she is?" Jason asks, stuffing pancakes into his mouth.

"Obviously." You nod.

"Yeah." Gar sighs, eating his own pancakes. "Hey, these are really good." Gar compliments you.

"Everyone is so shocked." You laugh.

"How'd you learn to make them?" He asks.

"Oh, I can follow a recipe." You chortle. "I can make a sandwich from scratch, everything else I just Google."

"That makes sense." Rachel nods.

"Nothing?" You look to Jason, waiting for a quip. You fully expect him to boast about how he could do this in his sleep if he tried. Or how he’s had better pancakes from Denny’s or IHOP, something sarcastic at least.

"Eh," Jason shrugs. "I can do better." Jason gives you a smirk, choosing to shrug it off.

"Mhm. Sure ya can." You nod.

The four of you finish up your breakfast and make your way to the new girl's room where Dick changed her bandage. Gar saw Dick toss her bandage in the trash and just like they did with you, Gar snatched it and brought it to the comms lab. Jason takes it from Gar and uses some of the technology to grab a blood sample to run through the computer. Gar takes a seat in the chair, you standing behind him and resting your arms on the back of the chair. Jason stands off to the side, eyes glued to the screen as Gar types away. Jason starts pacing a bit behind you as the screen starts loading, trying to find information on the girl.

"You're gonna burn a hole into the floor, Jay." You state, glancing back at him.

"Yeah? What if this is her plan, get Dick alone and attack him or some shit."

Gar and you both look over your shoulders at him. "I don't think she's gonna attack him, man." Gar lets out a sigh.

"Yeah, I think we're safe there." You nods your head while the two of you look back at the screen, the computer making a noise as it loads.

"Come on." Jason paces twice more before standing next to Gar. "Come on."

"Match identified." The computer says once everything has loaded.

"Rose Wilson." Gar says, leaning forward and clicking a button. "And that's her dad, Slade Wilson."

"Well, fuck." You let out a scoff.

"No...fucking...way." Jason says, eyes wide as he puts his hands on the computer panel, leaning forward as if not believing what he's seeing.

Gar looks between the two of you, confused. "What?"

"Deathstroke." Jason says, something cross between amazement and shock coming over his voice.

"Bad dude from, what? Five years ago?" You look to Jason.

"Think so, yeah. He killed one of the Titans." Jason explains, keeping his eyes on the screen.

"Wait, how do you know that?" Gar looks behind him at you.

"I had a lot of free time, Titans, Justice League, Robin, ya know? Found it all interesting. Deathstroke killing one of the Titans was pretty public. Aqualad, right?" You glance at Jason again for confirmation.

"Yeah." Jason nods.

"So, this girl, Rose is Deathstroke's daughter?" Gar asks, turning back to the screen.

"Seems that way." You let out a sigh.

"Think he did that to her?" Gar's voice is pained with the question.

"Wouldn't put it past him." Jason adds. "Dude is fucked up."

"We have to tell Dick, then. He has to know." Gar urges. "Maybe we could look further into him.

"Yeah, do that." You agree with him and the three of you watch, reading what shows up on the screen while you wait to inform Dick.

If Deathstroke is involved, surely that's something Dick would have clued you all in on if he knew. So, now it's up to the three of you to bring it to Dick's attention before Rose gets too close, just in case.

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Text

Moments: Chapter 9

Moments Masterpost

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Pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Slow-burn fic. Follow on to No Good Advice probably best to read that first. Read previous chapters of this fic from masterpost here. In this chapter, Benedict makes 2 proposals!

Word Count: 2.2k (this chapter only, 14.4k total for all chapters to date)

Warnings: None…. fluff, fluff, flirting, kissing.

Authors Note: Here be the penultimate chapter in the adventures of James Darby and his parents. I thought I should release just this single chapter now, as a few people seem to be enjoying this story. There will be chapter 10 which may be quite long then 2 epilogues to follow. Thanks as ever to @makaylan for her fantastic betaing and advice. Could not have done this without you lady <3

Chapter 9: Moments from a long walk

Over the next few days, life is a wonderful lazy summer sojourn, filled with family picnics, spirited outdoor games and watching Benedict and James paint together and grow closer. James has missed a father figure after years with John, and watching him naturally bond with Benedict has made your heart soar. As you put him to bed the previous night, James asked if Benedict could move in with you both, and you cried a little after kissing him goodnight. Your moments around Benedict have become increasingly charged with an energy you feel humming over your skin. The way he looks at you, the stolen glances, it’s agonising and fantastic all at the same time.

Aubrey Hall has been a beautiful spot you don’t want to leave. On your penultimate day, Violet approaches you at breakfast.

“Y/n, I wonder if you would mind me spending the day with James? I'd like to get to know him better, and you could take the day for yourself. A nice long walk around the estate, perhaps? There are some beautiful views from the hills on the Eastern end of our lands.” She advises.

“Oh, that sounds lovely, Violet. I’m so happy you wish to get better acquainted with James. He really seems to like it here with all of your wonderful family, so different from our life, just the two of us, at Darby Hall. Thank you”

Just then, Benedict walks in and instinctually kisses James on the head before grabbing a cup of tea. The way he has taken to fatherhood so naturally is such a wonderful gift.

“He helped so much to raise Gregory and Hyacinth when Edmund died,” Violet explains, intuiting your thoughts as your eyes track him, “he was ready to be a father long before James came into his life.” She speaks quietly so James cannot hear.

You watch as James gets up from opposite you to grab more eggs, and he and Benedict chat and fill their plates with food.

“I assume there are no other claimants to the Darby line,” Violet breezes, keeping a heavy topic intentionally light.

“None. The family was small - my husband was an only son, of an only son, of an only son. From my research, all other lines of the family died off without issue to a current living heir. James being Viscount does bring unique challenges. I’ve had to learn a lot about estate management and accounts in a short amount of time,” you chuckle, “and obviously, James’ true parentage must be kept confidential within the family.”

“Of course,” she assures, “we would never dream of revealing something that would hurt one of our own,” she pats your hand affectionately, “and I’m not just referring to James,” she smiles indulgently.

“Thank you,” you blush, so happy to be considered part of the family.

Benedict and James sit down together. Their movements are almost comically in unison.

“The challenge,” Violet whispers, “will be quelling the rumours should these two be seen in public together; they are so very similar, it’s actually a little disconcerting.”

You huff a laugh as she giggles too.

“What’s so funny?” Benedict queries, looking at you both cautiously.

“Nothing, my dear,” Violet assuages, “Y/n will be going for a walk today while I spend time with James. I'm sure she could benefit from your extensive knowledge of the grounds, dear,” she suggests pointedly.

Benedict looks at his mother as if there is some secret code in what she is saying. “Yes, mother; I would be happy to,” his eyes fall to you, “if you wish it so.”

“Of course,” you answer, a little skip in your chest as you realise it will be a long walk with just the two of you.

—

An hour or so later, you find yourself strolling with Benedict on a path towards the hills. It’s a beautiful sunny afternoon with a light breeze, and the smell of wildflowers in the meadows fills the air. It’s the sort of day poems are written about.

It’s just the two of you. No servants or chaperones - such is the freedom bestowed on a widow. Benedict carries a leather satchel with water carafes slung across his body. He’s dressed less formal for your walk, just some tan trousers, brown riding boots, a white shirt loose at the neck and a simple brown suede waistcoat. He looks outdoorsy and very handsome. You wear a white cotton dress with simple embroidery and your most sturdy boots, ready for a bracing walk over the fields and hills.

As the grade of the path gets steeper, he offers you a hand over some gnarly tree roots; he does not relinquish his hold as the trail evens out again. So you walk hand in hand in companionable silence, observing nature and the views as you ascend.

As you reach the brow of the hill, you are afforded the most spectacular view over the Kentish Downs. A patchwork of fields, hedgerows, wooded copses and little villages dotted out as far as the eye can see.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” you exhale, shielding your eyes from the sun and drinking in the view and the sun's warmth on your skin.

“It’s my favourite spot on our estate, possibly the world,” he admits releasing your hand to take off his satchel, “I wanted to show you,” he confesses bashfully.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you reach out and squeeze his hand, “and not just for this, for everything this week. Inviting James into your family it’s been so wonderful for him. I can’t thank you enough.”

You dare a glance up at him, and he’s looking down at you with an expression that even you can recognise as devotion. He looks nervous, too, like he’s on the precipice of something important.

“I love you,” he confesses suddenly, grabbing your other hand, so he holds both. “I’ve loved you for six years–I never stopped. And I love James more than I ever thought possible, even in just a few days. It’s humbling, actually. I know it’s only been a very short amount of time since we’ve been reunited, but I don’t want to be your friend. I… I want us to be together. And not like before. That was wonderful, but it was less than what you, what we, deserve.”

You are reeling from that little speech as you watch him get down on one knee, his hair tousled by the winds. His eyes are a little watery as he looks up at you, still holding your hands.

“I can’t imagine my life without you and James. Please, will you do me the honour of being my wife?”

You stop breathing for a moment. Every piece of a jigsaw of the future suddenly falls into place.

“I… Benedict! Yes!!!” You grab his face, your eyes watering.

His lights up as you bend over, and your lips meet for the first time since that fateful day six years before. It’s like no time has passed, and you melt into each other as you always did. Passionate and loving. Without breaking the kiss, he stands up slowly and pulls you into a firm embrace.

“God, I’ve missed this; I’ve missed you so much,” he stutters against your lips, breaking the kiss just to breathe.

“I’ve missed you too, so much. I love you,” you murmur into his mouth.

You stand for what may be many minutes reacquainting yourself with each other’s kisses.

“Wait!” He breaks away. “I do have a ring!”

“You do?!” You giggle.

He fishes into the satchel he was wearing and pulls out a ring box.

“This was my maternal grandmother's ring,” he explains, “I figured the mother of my child should have a ring that runs in the female side of my family.”

Watery tears obscure your view of the ring, but you see it’s a lovely aquamarine ring flanked by tiny pearls on a delicate gold filigree band.

Your hand shakes as he places it onto your finger. It’s a little loose, but you don’t want to take it off.

“Benedict, it’s beautiful,” you stutter, “thank you”.

“I can’t take full credit,” he demures, “my mother marched into my room last night and pushed it into my hand, after I’d idly said I would want it one day. I suspect we would already be married if she had her way” he chuckles softly.

You giggle. “Yes, she and Kate have been discussing marrying into the Bridgertons all week.”

He rolls his eyes. “I'm so glad they didn’t scare you off.”

“Never,” you smile, “nothing could scare me away from you.”

He blushes so hard that you launch yourself at him and tackle him to the ground. Desperate to be with him; proper behaviour be damned.

“Wait… wait,” he laughs as you grab at his clothing. “I have another proposal,” he takes your hands from his body and holds them in his.

“I’m all ears, Mr Bridgerton,” you answer with a giggle as he rolls you gently under his frame.

“We do this properly,” he says enigmatically, bringing your hands up to his lips and kissing your knuckles, his lips lingering over the ring he gave you.

“What does that mean?” You frown playfully, intrigued, feeling a little breathless from just his hand kisses.

“It means we don’t do anything beyond kissing until our wedding night,” his voice husky, “like real newlyweds.”

“Are you serious?” you chuckle.

“Totally,” he hums, his lips tracing over each of your fingers in turn, “that will make it so much better, no? The anticipation.”

“But we have had so much sex…,” you respond, bemused, watching his lips intently.

“That was then,” he argues, stopping his ministrations to look into your eyes, “this is now. This isn’t a dalliance with an expiration date. This? This is real; this is marriage; this is making a family–you, me and James. This is forever.” His tone is reverential as he opens your hand and kisses your palm.

His impassioned speech once again has you slightly speechless.

“How long?” You ask when you find your voice.

“Hmmm?” He is distracted, kissing the heel of your palm, his warm mouth sucking gently, causing all your nerves to fire.

“How long until we can get married?” You clarify.

“Two weeks,” he replies, “unless we elope.”

“Let’s do that,” you rush out.

He chuckles as he runs his nose over the pulse point on your wrist. “My family might kill me if we did. But,” he pauses and sits up, bringing you with him and points at a church below, “we can marry in that little church right there in two weeks if we post our banns today.”

“Let’s do it,” you gasp, eager for the rest of your life to start.

He chuckles and points, “we can walk that pathway right there and be at the church in about twenty minutes.”

After a few more moments of admiring the view and a few stolen kisses, you begin your journey to the church, Arm in arm.

“Wait, where will we live once we’re married?” You ask.

“I don’t care, as long as I’m with you and James. I have my cottage; you and James have Darby Hall; we can live in either or both. It’s your decision, my love,” he says.

“Oh, I like it when you call me that,” you smile. “Actually, I guess as Viscount, it’s technically James’ decision,” you giggle “are you willing to follow the whims of a five year old?”

He laughs heartily, “My son has me wrapped around his finger already; whatever he wants, I will happily do.”

“He will be so excited; he asked me just last night if you could live with us,” you comment lightly.

Benedict stops walking. “Really?” His voice is thick with emotion.

“Yes, my love,” you reply, trying out the term of endearment yourself, “he already loves you.” You touch his face as you watch his eyes mist up. “We both do.”

He rests his forehead on yours and closes his eyes. “I missed so many years; I need to make it up to you both.”

“It wasn’t by choice, Benedict. Our lives before were dictated by circumstance; it’s the choices we make now that count. You never have to make anything up to James or me,” you assure, curling your hands around his face.

He nods understandingly.

Then you smirk a little. “Except maybe one thing”, you whisper huskily.

His eyes fly open at your tone, and his expression morphs into something heated and playful. “What is it?” he asks, “what do you need?”

“I’ve missed out on six years of sex with you. You have to compensate for that,” you smile, running your fingers into his hair.

“Oh, I do, do I?” He whispers, his crooked smile turning devastating.

“Oh yes. How long can we honeymoon for?” you murmur,

“I’ll ask my mother to take James for a whole week if you want,” he breathes, hands trailing up your back.

“Mmmm, better make it two, Mr Bridgerton,” you raise an eyebrow, and he swallows hard as you move in to kiss him.

“Your wish is my command,” he utters against your lips.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @queenofshinigamis @khaleesjj @starslibrary

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton

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penissirius · 1 year

Text

Secret Secret pt2

Lee Know x male reader

SUMMARY: Part 2 is ‘you’re a secret and you’re sick of it’ Part 1 was ‘you’re a secret’ and I’m sure you can guess what part 3 will be! If you can't, you’ll have to wait until that’s posted! (Uh I got lazy so this is part 2 and 3 lolll, part 3 is ‘you’re a secret no more')

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: M/n is a very famous and well-known gamer and content creator. Idol Stray Kids still. M/n has braces but if you don’t you can just skip that part and imagine the hair as something else as well. I tried to keep it generally plain tho so you could more imagine yourself.

AUTHORS NOTE: This is part 2 (and 3 lol) of this 3-part series! part 2 already ommmggg time flies lol, I’m looking forward but not looking forward to writing this! This one is more angsty than the first part but not by that much cause writing angst hurts me and because I used to be forced to do it so much with a certain ex-friend of mine it’s become something I avoid. It is slightly sad though! There is arguing! I repeat there is arguing.

WARNINGS: arguing, angstish ig, jealousy from the reader, insecure thoughts, idol AU, famous gamer reader. Slight ooc Lee Know? Idk I don’t write for him a lot or imagine for him a lot so I don’t think I capture his attitude and his demeanor correctly-

FEMALE ALIGNED PLEASE DNI <3

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

*2 Months after the conversation with Lee Know*

M/n was chilling on stream yet again but this time he was just talking and chilling with fans while drawing new chapters for his webcomic. It was actually a pretty good stream, M/n was in a good mood, the comic was coming along nicely with no issues in the design and the questions people were asking weren't all that bad until they were. ‘So, M/n how’s you and the boyfie doing’ One of the comments was read aloud to him by the computer. “Hm? Oh! We’re doing great! I absolutely love being in this relationship and I’m much happier than the last one I was in. He is such a sweet and amazing guy. I can’t believe it’s getting to almost 2 years together” M/n smiled looking up for a second.

‘That’s good, we’re glad you’re happy again M/n!’ ‘We finally have our happy boy back!’ ‘It’s been almost 2 years when are we going to know who’s the idol boyfriend’

M/n looks up, “Now you guys know I can’t do that. He’s an idol and they have dating bans and stuff. It wouldn’t be okay to announce we’re dating let alone that he’s dating some twitch streamer like me.”

‘It’s okay M/nnie! It’s enough to know he exists!’ ‘Or maybe he doesn’t and this whole thing has been a lie’ ‘well it can’t be a lie cause we’ve seen him pop in sometimes, wearing a hoodie and a mask but he comes in and gives M/n a kiss before leaving!’ ‘Yeah, and even so we believe and trust M/n!’

M/n smiles giggling, happy that his fans believe and trust him. He ignores the few haters. “Honestly if it was up to me, I would've told you guys by now! But it’s not and I’m more than happy just me and a few friends knowing!” He goes back to drawing and the subject seems to change back to randomness. An hour and a half later he decided to end his live because his hand is getting pretty tired. “Alright guys, that's all from me. I promise that the normal gaming live will happen next week! There’s a poll up on what game I should play and I might pick a few of you to play with me! I haven’t done that in a while lol. But this is me and my hurting hand signing off! BYEEEEEE”

After shutting everything off and reuploading it so people who missed it can rewatch, he goes to his living room to watch tv and FaceTime his best friend. He grabs his MacBook and after a few rings AJ finally answers and he sees him still in his training clothes which means he just got back to his dorm. “M/n! Hey dude!” M/ns energetic best friend said once he saw his face. “Hey AJ how was training?” M/n laughed seeing AJs face turn up at the thought of training. AJ puts his phone down to change into comfier clothes while talking.

“Omg dude, training was literally the hardest today out of any other day. Dance wasn’t bad, and vocal practice wasn’t either. But rap class kind of kicked my ass and weird classes like selfie class and walking class because apparently there’s something wrong with my walk! ALSO, this stylist for one of the other groups said that I should consider cutting my hair because it’s ‘too long’ and ‘no one would know how to take care of your foreign hair’!” M/n was lowkey offended for his friend.

Anyone who knows AJ knows that the curls in his hair that come from his mom's Hispanic side and not his dad's Korean side are his pride and one of the only things that keep him tied to home while he’s here in Korea. “What? Did she actually say that?” “Yeah, she did! And honestly, I don’t know if you’ve seen Bang Chan's curls before the stylist got a hold of them but I am NOT risking that happening to my hair. That’s a walking nightmare. Also, when my hair is straight it’s not that much longer than Hyunjin’s was before they recently cut it!” M/n just shook his head, “Honestly just continue to do your hair by yourself, you do great and if you have any complications then you can call your mom!” “You right you right!”

They talked for a while and played some games together before they were just lying there doing separate things and talking after AJ had switched the call to his laptop. “Oh, dude did you see the new article?” AJ said looking up from his phone to his computer where the call was set up. “No? What’s it about.” M/n looked up suddenly interested. “It’s about Lee know. People are suspecting that he’s in a relationship. I’ll send it to you” “Alright”

He got the link and the article said:

Stray Kids' dancer Lee Know is in a relationship?!

Recently it’s been suspected that the said dancer is in a relationship. He’s often not in the dorm when members have done vlives at night. In behind-the-scenes videos, you can see him smiling at his phone and texting someone. His and Han's friendship has seemed to get a little less touchy-feely but still the best of friends. Also, when he shows his Home Screen it’s a picture of him and a shorter/taller man hugging! It has been semi-confirmed that it can’t be one of the other members because the hair nor body type match….

It continues but M/n stops reading. “Why should I be worried about this? It’s not like they’re actually going to find out about me or he would even tell them.” He chuckles bitterly. “Yeah, but there is this really stuck-up trainee in the same class as me who is swearing that he’s the one dating Lee Know. I know that’s not true and so does Stray kids and Miyeon (female best friend) but others don’t. He doesn’t even look anything like you or the picture Minho has as his Lock Screen but everyone is starting to believe him.” M/n doesn’t know how to feel hearing this.

“You and him need to do something about this. Talk about it. I think it’s time to let people know. I know he’s an idol and shit but his dating ban has been lifted, and JYP PDnim has started not caring if we are public with our relationships (at least in this universe 🤪), plus you guys have been dating for 2 years. I don’t think keeping you in the dark like this is fair. To have to deal with other people claiming to be dating him, and for you to have to deal with the constant hate you get for having an idol boyfriend but not saying the name. You’ve respected him and his feelings through all of this, but I think now it’s time for you to tell him how you feel.”

M/n listens and thinks about what his best friend has told him. “But what if he doesn’t agree? What if he doesn’t want to be public? I mean he’s an idol and being with me publicly could ruin everything he’s working for.” AJ tsked, “Yeah but you have to consider your feelings. It’s been 2 years, I know you would like to be able to spend time and actually go on dates together. I can’t keep watching you put yourself and your own feelings on the back burner for him. At least just think about bringing it up dude, I've got to go now. I have early training in the morning” M/n nods. “Alright, night AJ. Tell Miyeon I said goodnight as well!” “I will, bye bro”

After AJ hung up M/n really got to thinking and maybe he should bring it up. In the end M/n ended up not bringing it up to Minho. They haven’t been able to see each other in a while with all the stuff happening in Minho's schedule recently so they never gave a time to talk about it. Plus, M/n just didn’t want to start an argument about it when he knew it would just end with the same result and his feelings getting pushed back. But the topic always stayed in his mind.

A week and a half later and the situation have blown up. The article continued, more came after. And soon the Trainee that was claiming to be Lee Knows boyfriend was pretty much everywhere. People were asking him questions, he was answering with fake texts between them, edited pictures, etc. Nothing was heard from Lee Know or JYP though and M/n was starting to get sick of it. It was like everywhere he turned was another fake post about this dude and Lee know. Honestly, he was pissed. Not being able to see his boyfriend, this dude claiming to be dating HIS boyfriend and JYP and Lee know himself weren't talking about it.

This day in particular he had finally had enough. His ‘fans’ were making tweets saying how it was understandable that the trainee was dating Lee know but it’s kind of suspicious that M/n claims to be dating an idol but couldn’t talk about it like Dal (the trainee) could. There were a good 30% of his fans though that didn’t believe that Dal was dating Lee Know because to them it just didn’t make sense and would actually make more sense if M/n was the one dating him which made him feel slightly better. All in all, M/n was pretty much fed up with this. He texted AJ to go ahead and talk to JYP about the situation and article, to which the best friend was more than happy to. He even made a slide show for it, that fact made M/n laugh.

AJ had brought the situation up to his CEO and was in the middle of talking to him about it when Lee Know texted M/n.

Lee doesn’t seem to know 🙄

Hey baby, how’s your day been?

If M/n was pissed before he’s livid now. How’s his day been? They haven’t had an actual conversation in weeks and the first conversation that he started was ‘How’s your day been?’… M/n has thrown all previous feelings of not wanting to cause an argument out the window.

My prince 👑💙

It hasn’t been good, Minho

They haven’t been good for the past few weeks.

Lee doesn’t seem to know 🙄

Minho? No baby?

What’s wrong?

My prince 👑💙

Hm, I don’t know. Why don’t you ask that bitch Dal what’s wrong.

Lee doesn’t seem to know 🙄

Dal? Dal who?

My prince 👑💙

The fucking trainee that’s been claiming to be dating you for the past idk 2 weeks.

Now a little part of M/n was starting to feel bad for coming off in such a harsh way instead of actually talking and having a conversation about this, and maybe he was being a little petty by changing his boyfriend's contact name last week. But there was the bigger part of him that was so tired of dealing with this bullshit. He’s bottled up these feelings for weeks and months and now they’re finally being set free.

Lee doesn’t seem to know 🙄

What are you talking about? I don’t even hang out with him.

I’ve had like 2 conversations total with him.

My prince 👑💙

Well, those 2 conversations clearly seemed to be enough for him to say you’re dating.

Clearly it was enough motivation to make fake texts and edited photos of you together.

Lee doesn’t seem to know 🙄

Where are these so-called texts and photos and why haven’t I seen them?

I’m sure all of this will just blow over anyway it’s not like I’m actually dating him, I’m dating you!

My prince 👑💙

But nobody knows that.

I’m tired of this secret stuff Minho.

It’s been 2 years. This has been going on for weeks now. How can you say it’ll just blow over.

Lee doesn’t seem to know 🙄

I honestly haven’t seen anything or heard anything about it this whole time! Baby you have to believe me

Send it to me.

My prince 👑💙

A part of me just can’t seem to believe you have seen it at all but I’ll send it to you.

sends multiple links to articles and TikTok's on the situation

It takes about 30 to 45 minutes for Lee Know to get through all the links and process the information. In that time M/n still hadn’t calmed down. The part of him that felt bad wanted to cry and apologize and just be held by his boyfriend, but he was too clouded by all the emotions that he had held back finally coming out. After those 45 minutes Lee Know was on a mission to put this all to rest and finally come clean, he texted Him back but M/n didn’t see it. He had put his phone on Do not disturb and was set on ignoring him because he took too long to respond.

Lee doesn’t seem to know 🙄

Give me a moment love, I’ll have everything explained I promise

My prince 👑💙 has notifications silenced

While M/n was locked in his room eating ice cream and watching his comfort show after he cried. Lee Know, AJ and JYP were setting up a last second thrown together live interview set up in one of the company's conference rooms. After getting one of the radio hosts under JYPE, Chase, who hosts Idol on Air and setting everything up, AJ’s job was to get M/n to watch it. AJ took off running to his car and speeding to M/n’s apartment, texting Minho when he got there. He unlocked the door with the spare key his best friend had given him a while ago. He quickly made a beeline straight to M/n's bedroom, shutting the door, sitting his best friend up and grabbing the remote and turning.

“Hey, what the fuck! I was watching that!” M/n said confused and upset that his friend ruined his pity party. “There’s something way more important that you need to see” M/n pouted and watched as AJ quickly turned to where the interview was being broadcasted. He was quite confused when he saw his boyfriend on the live show that was clearly thrown together and not planned. ‘Maybe this is why he wasn’t responding- I feel so bad now. What is he even planning to talk about?’ M/n turned to AJ, “dude what is-?” “SHHHHH”, AJ cut him off, “it’s starting!”

“And we are on! Hello and welcome to Idol on Air! I’m your host Chase and as always, it’s a pleasure to be here with you guys. Today we have Mr. Lee Know of Stray Kids with us!” Minho waves “hello”

M/n looks at AJ unimpressed, “what does any of this have to do with me?” “You’ll see in a second just shut up and watch” AJ points back at the screen.

“Today we will be talking about a topic that has been the biggest revolving said dancer and the JYPE trainee, Dal.” Chase said, looking back at the camera.

Now that sparked M/n’s interest and made him pay attention.

“As it seems, the trainee, Dal has been spreading and trending everywhere claiming that he is in fact dating Lee Know. This started when a big article speculated that the idol was in a relationship. These are the posts and quote on quote evidence given from Dal.” Multiple Instagram posts, tweets, and photos were shown on the screen and on one of the TVs behind the camera for JYP, Chase, Lee Know and the rest of the staff to see. “We are here today to debunk these rumors and fake posts”

M/n stares wide eyed at the screen slowly processing what was happening and what it meant.

Chase turns to Lee know, “Now I’ll let the man himself speak. Lee Know, are you dating the trainee Dal?” He sat up taller and looked dead at the camera before responding. “No, I am not. I have only had 2 conversations with him in total since he became a trainee here.” “Tell us more.” Lee Know smirked, “Gladly. The texts are fake for I don’t even have his number or social media nor do I have a personal Instagram at all let alone the one shown in the photos. All of the photos of us together are edited. I’ve only taken one photo with him and it is this one.”

A picture of them in one of the practice rooms was shown. Lee Know and Dal are posing but to M/n it looks slightly off. He knows his boyfriend and that’s not the way he usually takes photos with someone who isn’t his members or friends.

“Only this isn’t the actual photo. This is.” A different photo was shown, it was in the same room and they had the same clothes on but there were more people in the room and now M/n understood why it looked so off to him. The original picture was of Lee Know and Felix in a practice room with Dal and 3 other trainees clearly having just got done practicing. There were two trainees on the other side of Minho, then him with Felix being right beside him and Dal along with the other trainee on the other side of Felix. “This day me and Felix, along with Hyunjin who wasn’t there the whole time, had offered to help some trainees with their dancing and took a picture at the end.”

“Everything that was said about me dating Dal was indeed false. We aren’t even friends let alone dating. I don’t know where he got the idea that we were or why he came up with this idea to fake like he was dating me. I knew nothing of this situation until today and I’m putting it to rest immediately” He nodded before turning back to Chase. “Well now we have that settled and put to rest. Lee Know and Dal are in fact not dating and everything the said trainee has said has been false. I do have one question though. Are you dating someone?”

M/n held his breath awaiting his boyfriend's response. He knew this would be when he’d say no, he wasn’t and they’d go back to being a secret and no one knowing that the idol was indeed taken. He was upset knowing that he’d never get to be public about his relationship with Minho. But a very small part of him held hope that he would say he was, although it was unlikely, he subconsciously hoped for it. AJ just smirked and watched his brilliant plan unfold, ignoring the curious gaze from his friend beside him.

“Actually, yeah I am dating someone, and he is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me.” The look on the idol's face when he was saying this was one of pure love and happiness. You could tell that he was being genuinely serious about what he said. “Oooo? Who’s the lucky guy?” Chase said, looking at Lee Know waiting for him to spill the tea. “His name is M/n! He’s a popular twitch streamer. We’ve been dating for a while now; I love him so much.”

M/n was about ready to start crying when he confirmed he saw taken but he definitely started crying when his boyfriend not only said to the world, they were dating but also mentioned him even if he didn't have to. The hate that he was getting would finally stop. He could finally be open and talk about his relationship. He didn't have any other thoughts in his head other than to immediately get to his boyfriend and kiss him silly.

Some more things were said before they closed up the interview but M/n was no longer interested instead he was hurriedly putting his shoes on, dressed in some shorts and one of Lee Knows hoodies that he had left. He forced AJ up and ushered him to the front door ordering him to drive them to the company, not without complaints from the Hispanic about him being comfortable. By the time they got to the company, the interview was just finishing up. M/n sped into the building as soon as they were parked, with AJ rushing behind him. He had to eventually wait for his best friend because despite how many times he had been to the building he didn’t know where he was going. When he finally got to the room where Lee Know was, he throws all rational thinking to the side and the second Lee Know walked out he jumped on him wrapping his arms and legs around him like a koala making the dancer hurry and support him with his arms under M/n's butt.

“Omg, I love you so much! I love you I love you I love you!” M/n says with his face hidden in his boyfriend's shoulder starting to tear up again. AJ and the staff members had gone about their business putting things away and doing whatever they had to do, to give the newly public couple some privacy. Lee Know walked into the room that was right beside them and sat in the chair with M/n still in his arms. “I love you too, I’m sorry it took all of this for me to finally do this love.” he kissed the top of the love of his life's head holding him tighter. M/n looked up at him with the biggest smile Minho had seen in weeks, “No it’s okay! The fact that you not only said we were in a relationship but said it was me and confessed your love for me on live where people everywhere can see made up for how long it took!” Before Minho could say anything unless M/n had grabbed his face and kissed him. After the initial kiss, he left a ton of kisses all around the dancer's face smiling brightly. Looking at the smile on his boyfriend's face, all the doubts Minho had in his mind about how his lover was feeling washed away and he knew they would be okay. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors Note: So I combined the last 2 parts into one because A) I really didnt want to write 2 more parts B) My friend who was Beta reading thought it would be better in just one part and C) if it had been three parts I don't think part 3 would have been too long- but anyways I hope you liked it and im sorry this took me so long to write I was struggling to think of new stuff plus writing my book and school and work all on top XD but its finally out now even if it is awhile after I said it would've been posted. (Lmaooo this has been ready since Sept 11 and I’m just now posting it- sorry)

#stinky stinky fic #stray kids #kpop idol #i love stray kids #stray kids x male #x male reader #female aligned dni #lee know x male reader #lee know #pls dont let this flop #lee know x male #lee know x reader #skz x reader #skz lee minho #i tried my hardest

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gunnerkriggcritical · 1 year

Text

I’ll share my personal story here in condensed form. I started reading the comic about 10 years ago and quickly became obsessed. I’d say at this point I’ve reread the entire thing… I don’t know, let’s say 5 or 6 times. At its peak, no other webcomic can match Gunnerkrigg for art, for story, or for character. What a stunning, spooky, subtle, complex, and deeply moving comic—and at times hilarious as well. All centered around Annie, one of the most heartbreakingly relatable characters I’ve ever encountered.

My personal turning point was The Tree. I feel like this is where some other fans would put their turning points, too. Anthony’s return brought the comic to a point I feel like it still hasn’t recovered from. Something happened at that point which slowly but surely made GKC a chore to read and keep up with, rather than a pleasure. The story now proceeds in awkward leaps and lurches rather than the patient, unfolding pace we were accustomed to for the first decade.

Nowadays, there’s no slow, careful unfolding of story. Major plot threads get resolved—or introduced and then immediately resolved (see the two Annies)—in ways that feel nowhere near satisfying or even coherent. New arcs are introduced that feel weird and tacked-on and, at worst, annoyingly unwelcome (Loup, who has never quite felt integrated into the story of the comic). The story is telling rather than showing 99.9% of the time. It’s ALL exposition. It’s like Tom is racing at full tilt towards the finish line so he can start working on something else he’s more passionate about. And worst of all, Annie Carver herself now feels like a side character in her own story. She displays few moments of autonomy or personality. She’s just kind of “girl who is there.” I don’t feel like we know her anymore. And for such an incredibly nuanced protagonist, that’s the worst crime of all.

But I might still be reading if not for two particular incidents. I usually can stay loyal to something I’ve loved despite its declining quality, but I never quite came back from the chapter where Tom seems to address reader criticism of Tony, Annie’s deadbeat-at-best dad, by having an entire chapter dedicated to how Tony is excused from being a deadbeat, actually, because he has an ambiguous mental illness of some sort, and ending with Annie looking directly at the viewer to tell us she doesn’t care and loves him anyway and she’s fine and we should all stop worrying, and then having Jones, the literal impartial observer character, agree with her.

That was my last straw. The comic was done for me after that. All my goodwill was gone. I’m honestly still enraged even though this happened more than a year ago; I could talk about it for paragraphs in another post, and I probably will. But for whatever reason I kept reading, morbid curiosity I guess?

Until I reached the point where Lana is almost sexually assaulted by elf kids. I couldn’t believe what I was reading, for so many reasons. GKC has gone so very far off the rails. I realized I was actively dreading each new page and I didn’t want to read at all anymore. I’m done, and I’ve only periodically checked in with the comic since then, each time discovering it’s gone even further off the rails than before.

It really feels like the author has clocked out. The art is no longer stunning (IMO), and the story no longer has any passion in it. It’s not unique or charming or heartbreaking or funny the way it once was. It’s just… random stuff happening. A story about robots, told robotically. At turns, unfortunately, it’s even actively offensive and bad. And for a comic that was once so special, that sucks especially much.

#gunnerkrigg court #gunnerkrigg #please excuse any typos I wrote this in notes app lol #antimony carver #kat donlan

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winns-stuff · 2 years

Text

LO RANT:

Okay I’m sorry that I’m saying this now but that chapter was so boring. It didn’t bring anything new just more Persades moments, and all of it would’ve been swell if the the Underworld didn’t JUST come out of a damn sleep coma. Like honestly, we don’t even see the citizens wake up or anything and the state of the Underworld before was literally so run down and apocalyptic looking how did we go from that major problem to fucking Persades?? I have so many questions and no answers at all.

First of all, Hades and Persephone just skipping to the “oh wow now that we’re together we’re getting married and she’ll be queen” thing is super fucking weird because right before the whole exile thing they said that after the trials they would go on dates and stuff, I know they’re supposed to be soulmates and stuff but what the hell is a soulmate if you know dog shit about them? Does Hades even know Persephone’s style? Does Persephone know anything about Hades besides his damn trauma because of all their trauma dumping? Have they ever even had a conversation, like a real normal conversation with each other that didn’t include flirting. I’m so sick of their relationship honestly, it reminds me of those hallmark christmas movies where the main characters were just all over each other, but the thing with those stories is that they were bearable and entertaining and they had fun dynamics. What the hell is even their dynamic anyways?? Let’s get into that. We know Persephone is supposed to be the pure virgin naive girl who makes the powerful underworld boss king with thousands of years of experience and so much “respect” for his peers fall down on his knees and care for her because she’s going to make such an amazing wonderful wife. We get it, but that dynamic can only do so much and it’s so boring to watch it unfold. There’s no real tension because whenever it is some potential brought up it caves in and completely crumbles and the whole thing is just boring. I personally enjoy the romantic tropes of kind people meeting scary looking people or people who are considered “monstrous” or “mean” because (when done right) the relationship can become more balanced and flourished depending on how their personalities clash, I know Persades has that but it just doesn’t have the same passion.. It’s almost soulless.

Secondly, I’m gonna pick apart two lines that irked the hell out of me. When Persephone was being tended to by Hera and the others (how the fuck did they even get there that fast might I add) she says something in the lines of “should I seduce him?” WTF. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, this is the shit I’m talking about like I said before what is a soulmate even if you’re not even sure you know the person well enough? What is a soulmate when you have no beyond the surface information about them? I say this because I’m just in awe that she’s so confused about how Hades would react to her and she’s not even sure how she would approach him. Like I know they’ve been apart for 10 years but after Zeus explained what happened with Leuce she should be able to understand that Hades still wants her, also why the hell would that even be her first idea anyways because if she knows so much about Hades and if they’re truly soulmates she should be able to know exactly the things he cherishes and stuff to get him interested like she shouldn’t have to question it if she actually knows. But also why would you even need to seduce him? Why does she need to flirt and show off to him inappropriately to get him interested in the first place? If Hades loves Persephone no matter what she should be able to just walk into a room and he’d be amazed. I don’t know why Rachel even added that in it was so weird, and why is that literally every woman’s first (seems like only) choice to impress men in this comic? I’ve seen way too many goddesses and nymphs having to seduce and strip half naked to even get the gaze of most gods they’re after which I think is absolute bullshit and just very insulting that that’s basically their only choice. Last point is just something I’ve noticed, didn’t she think like that 10 years ago too? Why is her ideas of relationships still like her 19 year old self when she’s literally 30 now? She’s been exposed to Hades for long enough (says the comic) so she should be aware that the relationship doesn’t need seducing unless that’s literally the only thing they have going on, the only thing that kept them so into each other in the first place, lust and seduction not even love or romance or a true connection with each other.

Another thing is about the queens being there. What the hell are they even doing there? Why did they just mysteriously pop up out of nowhere? And just for Persephone?? Hera barely woke up from her damn coma she should be with her family members and her children, spending time with them after losing so many moments and being with her children after they had to watch her suffer in her coma in their own fucking house! Same with Amphitrite, she barely just got Poseidon back after endlessly worrying about him in their own realms! Since when did Persephone and Hades become the most important people on the damn planet? They’ve never been there for any other major points in their lives like when Persephone went into that protective vine thing where she grew trees and such in the Underworld, or when Hades was at the trial and lost Persephone or when Persephone chased Minthe down and turned her into a plant! Only now have they just miraculously came to “support them” and I think it was just.. Weird, the whole chapter was so out of place and rushing to get back to the “romance” that it didn’t actually feel genuine. It’s weird that the Queens had to become servants for Persephone and she wasn’t even crowned yet, I bet they didn’t do that for Minthe when Hades was thinking about engaging to her.

Another thing is about Persephone’s hands. Wow that’s so sad that you were doing your job like you have been for quite literally your whole life and your hands started hurting while your mom was literally a mortal for 10 years with wounds opening up. I’m so sad for you Persephone and that’s terrible that mean old Zeus would put you through that. Boo- fucking- hoo, big woop. I need Persephone to be a little tougher, I’m not saying I hate how sensitive she is because I am too I’m literally one of the most emotional people you’ll ever meet, but you cannot praise Persephone being so badass and so “terrifying” (yes I’m making fun of Hades’ compliment and I’m being very biased) when she shows none of those traits. That’s like saying someone is so kind and nurturing when they spit on homeless people and kick babies, you see how that doesn’t make sense? Now listen I would’ve agreed with Hades if this was S1 Persephone we were talking about because she was actually interesting and she did have her intimidating moments, but this Persephone is so far from that and I don’t even think we can say she’s the same person. She doesn’t strike fear in anyones heart nor is she dreadful, she is not terrifying at all nor is she intimidating because the comic never allows her to be that. Persephone can’t be terrifying because of the way Rachel writes her, she’s just the perfect obedient uwu smol wife that everyone wants to get with and everyone’s jealous of, you can’t possibly be an uwu wife and be terrifying at the same time! That’s never happened before! (this is sarcasm by the way). But yeah I’m just tired of the comic constantly telling us things about Persephone rather than showing us, just because Hades says she’s terrifying we’re supposed to believe it even though she’d literally be cornered and threatened by a fly? Okay.

My last point I wanna make is that lousy scene where they got mad at Zeus for walking in. First of all, stop being so damn dramatic do you really think Zeus is going to send Persephone back now even though he could’ve when he first arrived in the Underworld? Like come on if he really wanted to she would’ve been gone you just want to have a damn villain for the season or whatever. Second of all, the man literally sacrificed himself for Persephone she was almost a Kronos snack if he didn’t step in because we all know Persephone can’t do shit when it comes to combat other than standing and crying so someone had to take the fall for her yet again. It’s pathetic at this point how they continue to make Zeus seem so evil when he’s literally the only one who fixed his own problem and obviously let everything go. If Zeus was upset he would’ve barged into Hades’ house, not calmly walk in without saying a word body language is key people. Anyways, I really do feel like this was just an attempt to show us how “loving” and “protective” Hades is because he shielded Persephone from something nonthreatening, and now we’re supposed to sweep all of his terrible behaviors and traits under the rug and swoon at him being so possessive and impulsive. Bravo, that’s the sort of man that should be out on the streets and getting a therapist aka Persephone.

Anyways, that’s the end of this rant. I told myself I would do this in the morning but I just couldn’t sleep without speaking my opinion on it, I’ve been holding it in for so long and trying my hardest not to think about it but I just couldn’t wait any longer. So I’m sorry if this rant is a little longer than my other ones I am just genuinely annoyed and irritated at this chapter, if you read this far I applaud you because I wouldn’t. But anyways as I always say this rant is meaningless and I’m just speaking my thoughts into existence, these points are just my opinions not facts at all and if you agree or disagree with me are both fine. In no way shape or form is this a dig at the fandom or fans of Lore Olympus, this is honestly just at the webtoon itself but if you enjoy it this isn’t to shame or insult you because that would just be uncalled for and hilariously dumb. We all like different things and no one should be called out for liking something (unless it’s harmful than you have every right to call it out) but yeah, just wanted to say that like I do any time there’s a rant.

#lo critical #anti lore olympus #anti lo

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always-andromeda · 2 years

Text

xiii. sound of a love song | Joby Taylor x fem!Reader

Joby Taylor x fem!Reader

Word Count | 5,476

Summary | Ready to give him a piece of your mind, you and Joby make a lot of startling revelations.

Author’s Note | buckle yourselves up, friends. that's all I gotta say about this one. also gonna be ghosting for a few hours after posting this! maybe send me asks on what y'all think of the chapter for me to read afterwards? (don't make me beg......pretty please)

Warnings | bits of fluff, smut (MDNI), and fighting (the best combination lmao), unprotected sex, overstimulation, nothing else I can think of!

You slammed the hotel room door behind you and kept your hand on the knob. Though you weren't looking, you heard the squeak of springs as Joby plunked down on the bed.

For every aggravating thing he'd done in the time you'd known him, it was almost comical that it was that little sound that set off the time bomb in your head. Your ears perked up as you listened to him unzip the sides of his boots, sliding them off and setting them to the side. Then you could feel his stare hitting your back, practically burning a hole in his jacket.

Somehow, through the anger, you hadn't thought to take it off; hadn't even imagined the moment where you'd have to shed this second skin and lose another layer of his comfort.

"I assume you have something to say." Joby finally states blankly. You can already hear the indifference. And it makes you furious. Just that morning it was all about ‘we’. He was begging for a morning kiss. Reaching for you in bed like he was going to actually hold you in the light of day. That tiny, unfathomable ‘we’ tied you to him in a way that made so much sense, yet, it drove you absolutely insane.

“What...the fuck...was that?” Your demand was frank, wrought with the control you needed over the situation.

You thought back to that night in your apartment. From the beginning, he had made his intentions crystal clear. If anything, you were the fool for sticking around so long, believing he could resign to anything close to friendship. For a few, silly, split seconds, you thought he could.

“What was what?” He scoffed.

Right then you whipped around and snapped at him, “Don’t you play dumb with me, Joby Taylor. What the fuck was that all about?”

“You mean me playing your song?”

Your flushed face screwed up, “What else could I possibly be angry about?”

“I don’t know. I thought you’d be pretty fucking happy about it.” He mumbled, glaring at you from beneath half lidded eyes.

“Why would I be happy with you stealing and performing a silly old song I wrote when I was teenager?”

“First of all, it wasn't silly.” He said matter of factly. “Second, I thought it would show you that someone has their fucking eyes open.”

“So you show me that by embarrassing me with that song?” Your hands expressed your skeptical confusion. How could he be so selfish? So willfully ignorant of his actions?

He waved the grievance away and grimaced, “Fine, forget about the old song. I’ll just go fuck myself, I guess, and you can go back to living in la la land pretending that everything is totally fine and totally normal and that I didn’t put my entire heart out on my sleeve there.” He cracked an obviously annoyed smile at the end.

His entitlement was becoming more and more infuriating. As much as you didn't want to yell, you couldn't help the harsh words that were brewing in your chest.

You exploded, “I am so sick of this self righteous bullshit! Ever since you met me, Joby, you’ve been falling for this completely idealized version of me. You think I’m a troubled girl who can save you from yourself. Fucking, news flash, I’m not your fantasy. I'm just someone who was stupid enough to tolerate your bullshit.”

He stood, a bitter snicker already growing on his face, “You’re right, I have been falling for an idealized version of you. Because in reality, you don’t believe in yourself enough to just leave all of the bullshit behind.”

"Excuse me?”

“You heard me. The woman I wrote about and romanticized would know that she doesn’t need that fucking douchebag to do everything she wants to. That version of knows that she’s the coolest fucking person around and isn’t afraid of anyone knowing it.”

Before you could make it stop, your eyes were glossing over. The woman I wrote about. From anyone else, it might've made your heart flutter. But from Joby Taylor...the man who wrote bland song after bland song about sex and substances just to fuel his ego...it came like an insult. You'd never heard a Snake Trouble song that had been sentimental or heartfelt. Every line was about some new girl, drug, or party that seemed to ornament his life.

The idea that you were just another decoration to him...another line in a song that he'd get sick of playing...it was enough to send you over the edge.

Breathing hard, you said, “You...asshole. So you were writing about me?”

“Yeah? And?" He narrowed his eyes at you, his mouth hung open in that cocky way as he said, "As if you weren’t writing about me either.”

It's been long enough that you know not to play into his game. You shouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you get nervous. It would only make him plunge his heels further in the mud.

“I’ve never written a thing about you.” You defended yourself. But not even you could believe your quivering voice and aching throat as you swallowed back a sob.

Joby laughed then. And that's what made your facade falter completely.

He countered, “Oh, fucking come on. Hiding behind a cigarette screen, dancing as I fall asleep? A bottle of rouge makes me wanna know you? Wasting a night, but I have your brown eyes?" Joby recited the lines from your notebook in broken pieces, but you got the gyst of them. "You’re telling me that none of that was about me? About us? Because the last time I checked, your boyfriend doesn’t smoke cigarettes and drink wine with you. And isn’t he a blue eyed motherfucker? I don’t fuckin' remember. But I’m sure we both know who definitely has brown fuckin' eyes.”

He's right. The proof stares into yours. A lot deeper than you'd like them to.

You can't even begin to scrap together the little shreds of anger and betrayal that his words tear into you. Besides, anger wouldn't stop him. Anger would only tell him that he was winning; that if he just poked and prodded a little bit more, he'd reduce you to a giant mess. All he wanted was to sweep you up and dump you in his bed again. And his taunting brown eyes were still fucking there.

“I made it all up. Have some fucking imagination for once.”

Joby picked apart the excuse immediately, “I thought you said you write what you know? And I’d say this sounds like how we know each other. Face it, this entire fucking time you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you don’t give a shit about me." He smirks devilishly, "But you can’t stop thinking about me. You’re just too scared to admit that you actually feel something for someone. It’s too close for you, huh?”

“As if you don’t know anything about being afraid of feelings.” You asserted, voice only a little wobbly. Still, it doesn't escape Joby's notice.

And as much as he wants his point to hit home, something drags him back.

You're going too far. You're only going to make this fall apart.

He visualizes the vines shriveling away and dying on the trellis. All the ripe fruit, waiting to be picked, spontaneously turning to dust. After everything you'd both done...it wouldn't have been fair. To hurt you like he had after that first night…after he promised he wouldn’t do it again? He was sure he’d done many little things that made you angry with him. But this was new. He could choose himself or he can choose you. And by now, he knew which one he’d choose any day.

Joby’s hand reached for yours and you limply let him take it. He dipped his head, shifting so you'd meet his gaze again. You're far too set on the drywall behind him.

Voice softening, he tried again, “You scared the shit out of me. So, yeah, I was an asshole about it sometimes. But here I fucking am, baby. Because I couldn’t deal with it if I spent all of this time being so fucking obsessed with you just for you to say that you’re too afraid to do anything about it.”

“I’m not—" your voice broke before you looked at him, lips pulled into a thin line. "I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Then why does the idea of me writing about you bother you so much? Why are you so angry about what happened last night? Have you never had someone be honest about everything? Is that it? You just think everyone is lying to you when they say they love you. Because it doesn't sound like him when they say it, huh?"

You couldn't think about William. The anxiety was already getting to be too much even without you thinking of how furious he'd be with you.

“Why do you even care about me? You said it when we first met: I’m a shitty cover artist. I’ll never get anywhere. And if you keep telling yourself that I’m someone special, you’re gonna end up in the same place.” You hated hearing the admission spilling from your lips. So many of those words could've easily come from William himself.

“I don’t care about any of that shit. I write about you because you’re fucking fantastic and you deserve to have hundreds of thousands of songs written about you. You deserve fucking church choirs and orchestras and encores and every single fucking crowd cheering for you. Because you’re the greatest thing that's ever happened to me."

“Joby, just go.”

He pressed on, firmer than before, “No, I’m not gonna walk away just so you can tell yourself that it was always going to turn out that way. I want you to look into my eyes and tell me that you don’t fucking want me. Then I’ll walk right out that door. I’ll burn every line I’ve ever written about you. I won’t see you. I won’t sing about you. I won’t even think about you." He was close enough that he brought your hand to his chest. Part of you says it's another ploy. Just so you can sink into the heat of his body once again. Even larger than that reach in logic, you realized you could feel his frantic heartbeat. "But if any of that sounds devastating to you too…all you have to do is say it. Whatever you want from me, it’s yours. It’s all been yours the whole time.”

“Joby…I want—" You split in half as soon as you finally gazed into glossy brown eyes again. “Fuck—” You buried your head in your hands and let every mask slip away as tears spilled down your cheeks.

“I want all of it. I want the fucking church choirs and the orchestra and whatever else you can give. I want you to write songs about me until you can’t think of a single thing you could say anymore. And you’re right, I am afraid. I’m afraid because if this falls apart, then I’m fucked. I can’t go from having something this bright...and...intense...to nothing again. I can't do it."

“I won’t let that happen.” He dared to bring you even further into his arms until you stiffened and pulled back.

You maintained his intense eye contact and you spoke clearly, almost issuing a warning, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“What makes you think I can’t keep that promise?”

“Because I know you. Fine—you’ve changed—but at the end of the day, I can’t be another Claire to you.”

Joby was rendered speechless, looking down at his boots and feeling that knife slide a centimeter deeper into his skin. It pinched right next to the outward curve of his spine, barely grazing his heart once more.

“Is that really what you think I’d do to you?”

He became minuscule. Something close to vulnerable.

“Joby, it’s what I know you’d do.”

For once…he got it. Could finally grip the knife and strain it against the grain of his hardened flesh, ripping it free from its tight confinement between his bones. He could deal with the wound later; he's set on getting a good look at the shiny blade, covered in the ruby red waters of his fears, hopes, and regrets. Every single one of his emotional hang ups chipped into the blade, only making it duller; deadlier.

If he had been a weaker man, you could've killed him. And he would've let you. But he wasn't weak, wasn't resigned to hiding away the simple truth behind speeches and songs anymore. If he really tried his best, he could boil the stew of emotions down to its bare bones.

He whispered, “I can't lose this. I can't lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either." You sniffed, "But I don’t want to lose myself. Not again.”

“I know you won’t believe me, but this entire thing is so much different than when I was with Claire. It's why I didn't recognize it. All of this is just as new to me as it is to you.”

“Oh really?” A small, cynical smile peeked through your cracked lips.

Joby figured he'd indulge your satisfaction a little, “Yeah. And it’s fucking overwhelming. Because one second you think you’ve seen it all but then all of the sudden, these other things come in. A-a-and you’ve never seen them before. You want to run away but you don’t want to stay the same." He had to pause to figure out how to end his explanation. Fuck, he'd never been good at these things on the fly. He stammered, "Because w-what if that new thing…is better than you ever could’ve imagined?”

“Joby, don’t dig yourself a deeper hole…” As much as you wanted to hear his sweet words, they already rattled around your head like empty promises.

“Please, just let me finish.” He was silent and thought for a little longer. “You said it was all too intense. And, you know what? I agree. So why can’t we start small? W-w-we can drop…all this…pressure…of being muses for each other and just be with each other. We’ll explore everything, a little bit at a time. And if you ever decide that you don’t want me anymore, I’m gone. And you won’t have to worry about me ever again.” He guided your hand to his cheek.

You rubbed your thumb over the angle of his cheekbone; memorized the way the grooves of your fingertips ran so smoothly over his pale skin. From this angle, he was all soft curves and alcoves you could bury your mouth into. He was tangled wires and chaos and the taste of sweat and leather and cheap soap that made you cringe only a little. Because it was still him. And for now...that was good enough.

“You promise you won’t get sick of me too quickly?” You ventured carefully.

“I promise." He furrowed his brow, chuckled a bit, "To be fair, you’d have to really be trying for me to get sick of you, though.”

You sniffed and returned the modest laugh through your raw throat, “So what would I have to do exactly? Go into as specific of detail as you possibly can.”

“Are you already trying to get rid of me?” He eyed you suspiciously.

“I’m testing you.”

“Then bring it on.”

There was a beat of silence filled with his fond gaze and your bated breath before you burst the bubble, “This doesn’t absolutely terrify you?”

“Nope. Not even a bit."

You shook your head, "Oh, at least you're humble about it."

“Every fucked up choice I’ve made before…I never thought about them. I’m not the most…thoughtful guy. If you couldn’t tell.”

With the roll of your eyes, Joby knew the mood didn't call for him to continue the pitiful joke.

He started again, “But, I just— I want to try.”

Your lips were buttoned closed.

“I’m sorry for playing your song.” He tried a dreaded apology.

Your expression stayed blank and you replied, “Okay.”

“Why does it…bother you?”

You hand dropped to his shoulder and circled the leather there, "It reminds me of how little I actually knew. I had never fallen in love but I thought I knew what it felt like. I thought that one day I'd just find a person who would fill in every single crack.”

"And instead you got me."

You fiddled with the zipper at the edge of his jacket and sighed. "I'm starting to think that's not so bad, though. It’s gonna be a hell of a mess to figure out, though.”

Joby sighed, "What we are right now...doesn't matter. I just want to make something work. I can’t even begin to understand it...but I want to.”

Painfully and slowly, you tugged him down to your level by the collar of his leather jacket. He followed willingly. Lips inches from his own, your breathing was unfettered. Still, he waited for you to set the tempo.

"Then we can help each other figure it out."

You kissed him, softer than any of the previous ones but it sets his belly aflame just as much as ever.

"I fucking love you." He mumbled into the corner of your mouth.

You withdrew, just enough for a puff of hot air to leave you and hit his parted lips. He kept his eyes closed, assuming you were glaring at him.

"Too much?"

"I don't know." you whispered, "But, like I said, we'll figure it out." You still idled, processing the words. Like you were deciding on whether or not you should spoil him any more.

Joby doesn't feel the sting of rejection. Moreso, it's the gleam of opportunity that makes him grab you by the chin and drag you back to his hungry lips; he laid you back on the bed and hovered over you. It's the searing truth that he'd been waiting to have you all to himself for far too long. Now that you're both unattached...what else was there to do but entwine himself with you?

You returned the kiss with a new fervor, one that spoke to the confidence he'd imbibed you with. He makes you feel electric all over again as his arms engulf your frame. His nose prods your cheek as he gets deeper, mixing his tongue into the production. The second his hand drifted up your side, you were a goner.

"You said you'd give me anything." You breathed against his lips.

Just getting to work, he was quiet; dumbstruck and trailing open mouth pecks down your chin to your neck. The zipper of his jacket was pulled down just far enough on your chest that he spotted the offending marks painting your skin. Dragging his tongue along them, he suckled once more, knowing he was only making an even bigger mess of you.

"Anything and everything, princess." he repeated in a husky whisper that vibrated off the column of your throat.

"Then I want you. I'll keep choosing you. Over and over again." You said. He hummed deviously into the spot between your shoulder and your neck. His breath was already hot and needy. Your fingers flew to his hair as he tended to your battered flesh; his handiwork.

You groaned softly but choked midway through. The sound morphed into a strangled gurgle as he cupped one of your tits and gave it a squeeze in his large palm. If he really wanted, he could work all of your knots out just like this. But the more he indulged in his frenzied kissing, the more you wanted all of him.

“Please…” you whined, pulling at the hem of his shirt that was now balled in your fist, begging him to shed the layers separating you from feeling his familiar flushed skin.

Joby chuckled softly, “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He shot you that smug, squinty eyed smirk again that made you groan in annoyance as you undressed his top half.

The years of smoking, drinking, and suffering over his music made him pale and lanky. Joby had never felt more naked with your all too forgiving eyes roaming over his bare chest, like you could somehow absolve him of that pesky old past of his.

In this way, he's a virgin. Completely untouched by the hands of someone who needed him in more ways than the physical.

He swore he could see tears gathering in your lash line when you murmured, “I want to see you. All of you.”

Cautiously, you took his shoulders and urged him to turn so his back was to you. Of course, he did what you wanted him to. Joby sat at the edge of the bed, head hung and shoulders slumped as he waited to feel what you were planning for him.

Blinking rapidly and chest heaving, he couldn't identify the cocktail of emotions that were swirling around in his head. He could pick out flecks of lust and a good amount of excitement. But the aftertaste? It's all bittersweet vulnerability; enough to make him wince when you finally touched him.

It was light. Barely there as you traced the outlines of the tattoos on his back. You began with the angel wings. Followed the curves of each detailed feather. It looked a bit newer, the ink contrasting heavily against his almost anemic skin. Despite the fact that his shoulders hadn't seen much sun in months, there were freckles gracing the highest point of his shoulders. Right underneath the hair that falls over the back of his neck, those tiny dots litter his skin.

In large, decorative letters stretched across his shoulder blades is the word 'trouble'. You giggled, finding it quite ironic since he was becoming part of the solution for you.

"When did you get this one?" You wondered as your finger traced over the letters.

A shiver needled at the tail of his spine.

He was hard. You hadn't even touched him there but he was turned on. He didn't have the heart to stop your tender ministrations along his pale skin. But, oh boy, was he close to flipping you on your back when your lips coasted against the ridges of his shoulders. He tried not to think about those pink, plush pillows all over him; it made him dizzy. The question churned in his overwhelmed head and he struggled more than he should've for the answer.

"A few...years...ago. I-i-it was one of the first—" he inhaled sharply as your teeth grazed over the spot he thought the L would be, "It was the first one I got...after we started the band..."

He had been twenty when his friends sat around him, guzzling beers as they made fun of him, facedown and wincing as the artist worked on the massive piece. He’d gotten a few before: the pinup girl and the crest on his arms. But this one had taken a few sessions to complete. He spent a portion of their earnings from their first few shows on it. And it was entirely worth it.

It was meant to prove his dedication; he was willing to brand his flesh with the label to show that he was committed to being a star.

"What about the snake?" you continued innocently enough until your hand slithered around and ran over the large, inked serpent on the left side of his chest. You must’ve known that his heart was beating out of his chest, right? He practically felt it vibrating in his skull. His blood seemed to be pulsating with want.

He swallowed hard, keeping focus on the next question, "The snake came after...a-all the guys...w-we got snakes together...just for the band."

That had happened two albums in. The second album was an utter failure. The snakes were meant to gather their broken pieces of motivation and tie them all together again. His friends tattoos had been smaller, more hidden. Joby...he simply had to get it imprinted into his skin, directly over his heart.

"You really care about that band, don't you?"

Why were you suddenly so curious? He was ripe for the picking, itching to be plucked from the stem so he could dissolve on your tongue. Yet you took your time. Slow and deliberate with every touch, you traced his tattoos as if they were drawings in your notebook.

"Snake Trouble...it meant everything to me..." Maybe that's what had always been wrong with him; why people just couldn’t do it for him. The music didn't judge. Didn't call him a deadbeat. Didn't make him feel alone. You didn't do those things either. You called him out on his selfishness, on his attitude, on how prone he was to being an asshole. Nonetheless, you embraced him all the same. Just like the music always had.

He was perfectly in tune, just for you. Whimpering so harmoniously as your thumb rubbed over the hardened nipple underneath the tattoo. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes as he greedily waited for more; more of your hands, your mouth, any piece of skin that could quell the way he was aching in his heart and his skinny jeans.

He breathed a sigh of relief when you came back around to his front, lifting one of your legs so you could rest comfortably, straddling his lap. However, you were nowhere near close to being done with teasing him.

Joby was far too pretty for a quick fuck. You had long since reckoned with that idea. You had to know what made him tick. What little things could you do to make his breath hitch in his lungs? To make him really squirm underneath you? You were simply working to reacquaint yourself with the dimension that you'd only gotten glimpses of. He was a song you just had to learn all the notes to. Every string of curses he let out as you eased yourself back and forth on his straining bulge was simply a new lyric to memorize. This, you concluded, was your absolute favorite love song.

He sputtered out a new line, “You’re such a bitch.”

“Yeah? Not as much of an asshole as you are, though.” You taunted him without skipping a beat.

“How am I the asshole?”

Your hand crept up his neck. Thumb rested on his chin, firmly implanted in the patch of facial hair, you skewed him closer to your face, “You sang that little song up there—”

Joby interrupted with a pitiful groan, “I told you I was sorry.”

“Let me finish. When you were singing …I wanted to march up there and kiss you.”

“Seemed like you wanted to punch me.”

You giggled. “Only a little. Mostly, I just wanted you all over me again.”

Joby couldn't take it. He was tense in every sense of the word. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, princess.”

“Isn’t that the point of this?”

“No— I mean— yes…fuck— I need to be inside you.”

You paused then, deliberating his fate. You wouldn't let him down like this, would you?

“You’ve never considered what I’d be willing to give you before, have you?”

Your sincerity could've rendered him speechless, “Huh?”

“You said you’d give me anything. What if I don't want to give you anything? What would you do then?”

“Fuck— I don’t know if I could let you go.”

“Then you’re lucky I love you so much.”

If he wasn't so sick of this game, he'd laugh. But he's far too aware of the irony of this position; the immense control you had over him.

This isn't fair. His critic wept internally.

Oh, but it is. With how much you antagonized her...you deserve worse. And he knew his conscience was right. This was the most delightful sort of torture for him. Because at least now he knew that you would keep him. At least for a little while.

“Jesus fucking Christ…you’re such a fucking bitch.”

For every biting word he uttered, you could hear the sentiment interlacing each syllable. Before you even asked it, you knew your answer. “But I’m yours, right?”

“You're all mine. Allllll mine.”

"Good, then prove it." you challenged him. As quickly as you could bite your lip, he had you pinned back to the mattress.

From that moment, there was no more teasing, no more games, no more acting. For the first time in years, Joby felt alive as he undid his belt. The action was almost muscle memory to him. None of his stumbling hands, only his mind focused entirely on what he was going to give you.

As Joby pushed his cock inside of you, he believed he could do it forever. He could never get tired of exploring this dripping passage, leading him all the way home to your heart. There weren't any clever lines he could use on you now. His head was too thoroughly fucked for him to make any sense anyway.

You were giddy, absolutely gushing with anticipation and willing to take every inch of him. He fucked you relentlessly; you expected nothing less from him. Yet it warmed your heart, hearing none of his smooth dirty talk, only his desperate grunts and groans that came with each thrust. Those were the sounds you had craved.

You dug your heels into his back and forced him deeper until you heard a consistent beat; the slapping of skin on skin. You yelped in time to it. Felt the wires in your belly rub together until the sparks were flying and singeing your skin. Your brain was severed from your body by the heat of pleasure.

Against all odds, you came first. With a beautifully high note leaving your throat, you shuddered and contracted around him as the bridge within you broke. But even after the crescendo, the beat persisted. Though you vaguely muttered for him to keep going—to keep using you—he didn't hesitate. Except he wasn’t going to use you.

Joby did little to soften his approach as he readjusted himself slightly. His hands now gripped your hips and raised your bottom half off the bed so he could keep pounding away. Your numb body shook each time and you held onto the sheets to keep yourself steady.

Your clit throbbed painfully as Joby thrusted right through the jolts of overstimulation that made tears roll down the sides of your face. This was your own encore. Your sweet little song for the road.

He reached one of his sweating, feverish hands forward and gathered a bit of the slick gathering around the base of his cock with two fingers. He used it to rub tight, fast circles around your aching bundle.

Your skin was burning up like you were sitting in hell, but his long fingers playing you expertly convinced you that you were in heaven. You heard the church choir and the orchestra and leading all of them was Joby. His fingers sent you straight into another climax. This time, you finished with a sweet little broken whine, entirely dried up from the performance.

He couldn't think far enough to do anything else until he was spurting in you, nearing the end of the composition. Even then, he wouldn't cease the lazy jerking of his hips. He had to make sure that all of his sticky spend would be lining your insides for days, never mind the tears prickling his eyes. He needed you to feel him in the morning, maybe even forever; however long you'd have him.

Because he'd do anything for you. Even if you intended to leave him the very next day, he would handle it. It would kill him. But he'd manage. He'd find some other way to heal if you'd rather he not be there. He could only hope that you were being as honest as he was with you.

The room was stiflingly hot by the time he finished. For a second, he thought that he was lucky his lungs didn't give out with how much energy he'd dedicated to composing that symphony. But it was for you. Always for you.

Though only a few words had passed through the heat of the moment, that seemed to be enough to describe the moment. It was a tangled bond that was only knotted further as he removed himself from you, yet stayed in place on your chest.

Sick and insane to healed and saved, Joby Taylor kissed the salty tears from your temple. If his throat wasn’t so ragged and raw, he could’ve cheered. Instead he held you like you were the only thing he'd ever need. And deep down inside, he was starting to believe it.

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