One year ago today I posted this practically shot Iron Giant photo I created using real figures, lighting, miniature sets & my trusty old tin foil for water technique & cotton wool for the splashes.
The first time, she says "To me," and the mirror dutifully shows her her reflection. And she is pleased.
The second time, she says "To the King," and she is pleased to see herself once more.
The third time, she says "To the Royal Advisor," and is once more satisfied to see herself.
The fourth time, she says "To the scribe who takes the King's letters." She is shown the man's wife. And she seethes, but quiets herself, for it is only right that a man loves his wife.
The fifth time, she says "To the Court Wizard," and is shown the man's departed mother as he remembers her from his youth, radiant and smiling and warm and larger than life.
The tenth time, she says "To the Stable Master," and is shown the fastest horse in the stable, majestic and free as the wind even in captivity
"To the baker," she is shown the man's daughter, young and adorable and full of joy and laughter.
"To the artist who did my portrait," she is shown a painting of a woman done by the man's teacher, who he still looks up to now that he is well established himself.
"To the Royal Knight," she is surprised but not displeased to see the castle's entire guard force in the middle of doing drills.
The one hundredth time she asks the mirror, and it asks her "to whom?" she once again says, "To me." And she does the same the one hundred and second, and again and again and again.
It is a different person each time, and they are all beautiful.
got a crick in my neck and a frog in my throat and a chip on my shoulder and a stick up my ass and now you're gonna stand there puttin words in my mouth? haven't I been through enough?
Came back wrong but the wrongness is that you're no longer as awful as you used to be. You're not mean anymore. You don't lose your temper as quickly, you don't say awful things, lash out, or hurt people on purpose just to prove that you can, not since you came back. It's the same face, the same voice, the same superficial tendencies, but all the rough edges have been smoothed away so thoroughly that it feels like something else is wearing you as a mask. Yet it's impossible to get anyone else to see the problem, because you're less of a problem than you've ever been before.
Love the soft, curious moments of them sharing about their own cultures, biology, etc. I do think Rocky would have a field day when Grace explains skin as a very sensitive and permeable organ with lots of stuff packed tight on the surface. Since goosebumps are very tactile, I thought Rocky would enjoy hearing those.
Also, bonus.
Because it is endlessly entertaining to me to consider how deep in the trenches Rocky is.
Pairing: Caine x gn!reader
Summary: Returning to the real world, you receive a surprise in the mail.
Tags: sfw, ep8 spoilers, establish relationship, going off comatose theory – I can't remember the actual name of it– but basically the gang's bodies aren't dead, angst and comfort, reunions, grief
W.C: A/n: I'm coping so fuckin' hard i think i made an au. Ep 8 broke me guys aaaaa
Getting adjusted to the real world again has been incredibly difficult. Even for Pomin, you haven't been able to break the habit of calling everyone by their circus name just yet, is struggling. Yet she's been in the circus the shortest of time.
Everyone knew that to some degree, time had passed in the real world during their stay in the circus. While everyone hoped that the digital days were run on the same 24 hours system. It turns out that the artificial days that Caine provided was deceiving. Time in the digital circus works differently compared to the outside. So much time has passed that most of the others — Kinger, Ragatha, Jax, and even yourself — were labelled as legally dead.
There's been lots of emotions to process. From learning what your life status was, you honestly thought you were abstracting when you heard "you're supposed to be dead?" from a confused nurse. To reunions being held. Not just reconnecting with friends and family, but also with your own body. You still catch yourself staring at your hands, second-guessing if they belong to you.
It's been hard adjusting as everything has changed. But what remain the same is the group staying in touch. During the first few weeks after being cleared to leave the hospital, it was joked about, and sometimes half seriously asked, about checking into the same psych ward. But eventually everyone had to part ways to return home to families or friends who'll take them in. Dispite the distances, you and everyone stay in touch in a near obsessive way.
Daily text and calls to talk about nothing or to support each other from panic attacks. Monthly meet-ups became a ritual. Those who can’t physically make it get called and expected to stay on call for the whole duration. Always held and always attended. It was a surprise when Jax, you really need to stop using those names, who had distanced himself during the circus has become closer to the group than ever.
While you're pulling away.
Everyone checks on you, and you answer each and every text or call. Attending hangouts with Ragatha and Pomni, and accepting sleepovers at Gangle's and Zooble— damnit, why was it so hard to stop using their circus names?
Oh, the swearing is an adjustment too.
Your behaviour has been strange, becoming withdrawn and bringing up circus memories more than deemed acceptable. That the others had to, rather reluctantly, ask if you're happy to be out of the circus. You tried your best to reassure them that you're glad to be out. But you're straight-up lying to their faces. Because you do miss the circus. You do miss the adventures. You miss the stupid NPC and most importantly;
You miss Caine.
You were closest to him out of everyone. You praised him for his adventures. You talked him through ideas. You reassured him that the others didn't hate him. He was your boyfriend, for fuck's sake! Even if the others didn't know it or want to acknowledge it.
He was yours.
But no matter how hard you tried to stop it. Caine was bound to snap and, when he did. You were the last line of defense for the group. Able to draw his attention away from them. Giving everyone a breather, and a break from the odd torment Caine inflicted. Listening and going along with whatever obsessive monologues Caine would give. Showering as much affection to ease him during those last few days before getting—
The days after that event and just before escaping were the hardest for you. You couldn't accept what Kinger said. That your goofy little guy, who only wanted to please, was gone. That all you had left were fond memories. You're forever grateful for Ragatha, who kept you together and from abrascting. Who made sure you crossed over that finish line.
It didn't feel right or fair. Why are you left with memories? Why did the others get what they wanted? Why are you left alone? You didn't even get to say goodbye! Yet you can't bring yourself to voice these thoughts out loud to the others.
You're pretty sure it's also a form of survivors guilt. The others have it too. Kinger and Jax are the ones to have the worst of it. For being able to escape while the abstract forms of old friends are left behind. Its part of the reason you can't bring Caine up. You feel as if your grief is insignificant compared to Kinger's. He lost his wife, and here you are, grieving over the ai who trapped them in the first place.
Sometimes you feel ashamed to be grieving Caine, but then that thought brings you guilt. Because, of course, you should greive for your boyfriend. If you didn't greive him, who will? But there are other times you feel ashamed that you get to survive due to your lover's death. Or feel ashamed that you’re struggling the most while the others have adapted to the real world. But this grief is becoming all you know. All you have left of him, and you're scared to let it go.
You shake your head, trying to keep clear of those thoughts. Or else you'll break down crying outside in public, again. You're a downright mess in the real world. You push on, keeping calm for the last steps on your journey home. Being in the real world means having to pick up a job again, to maintain your apartment and pay rent. While those tasks felt difficult, it is very stressful to return to a new economy; it’s also nice to be able to decorate your home how you want.
At least, you keep telling yourself that.
Entering the apartment complex and taking the elevator to your floor. You're able to keep your thoughts off the circus and focus on mundane tasks, like cooking dinner. Stepping off the elevator and onto your floor. Your thoughts betray you by remembering the digital feast. Luckily, something tears you out of those fond memories of sharing meals on dates with Caine. You stop in the middle of the hallway, eyes narrowing on the box in front of your door.
That's not how mail works. The package isn't supposed to be just laid out front. Are you even expecting a package? Maybe it was from a neighbor? You become doubtful of your last thought as you slowly approach the box. You don't think it could be from your neighbors, as you haven't been able to connect well with them. Always regarding them like they're NPC. Always expecting them to give you a task or say something ridiculous. You even jumped once when a neighbor finished his sentence; you were convinced he was Disappearing Guy.
It's hard to make new friends.
Standing in front of your door, you study the box. It's small, smaller than a standard book, and the label on it only has your details. Yet theres no return address or who it's from. With no survival skills left, all of them were taken during your time at the circus. You decide to bring the small box inside. Entering your apartment, you set your focus what's inside it.
You lightly shook it and couldn't hear anything rattling. With nothing new to gain, you open it.
Inside the box was another box that fit perfectly. Snug enough your had to tilt the packaging box to get it. This new box is black, with no logo or feature details. This box also has a snug lid placed over it. With a huff, you struggle to get the box to slide out of the lid. With a few hard shakes, it plops onto the nearest surface that's by your front door.
There's a note inside, folded in half and lying perfectly center. You grab the note and see that it was placed on top of the contents, covering them. Tuck into a thick paddled foam that looks to be a phone. A touch screen device, if the large screen is to go by, but an older model of some brand. At least, you think it is. You're still catching up.
You turn back to the note, and it looks like a regular white note pad paper. You flip it open, and your heart sinks at the ominous faded C&A logo on it. The company is shut down, gone. You learned about the history. So, why is there a note, then? You slowly regard the handwriting written in black ink on it. It doesn't look remotely familiar. It's a short note, with no name attached at the bottom.
'Look after him.'
You reread the note. Then a third time and a fourth. Flipping it over to make sure you're not missing anything. Nothing. You then look towards the phone, prying it out of its foam coffin. It's light, and there are buttons at the bottom with different symbols. One of a hand, one of a circus tent and one that looks like Bubble? You shake your head to get that AI out of your head. The button doesn't have sharp teeth and two black beady eyes. It's just a circle. Not a bubble. Looking over the device again, you notice its colour theme and overall look remind you of a Tamagotchi.
A really big Tamagotchi.
You wonder if one of the members bought you some sort of Tamagotchi to keep you occupied. A sort of pet to take care of while you struggle to remember taking care of your real body. It'll explain the note, and this 'he' you're supposed to care for. You finally remember Zooble and Gangle announcing they're adopting a cat to help remind them to look after themselves. Maybe it was those two who sent you the package?
You let out a groan of frustration at yet another slip-up. They have names now. Real names! You need to get it together!
Needing the distraction before falling into a swirl of negative thoughts. Of cursing yourself for not adapting already. For worrying your friends. For missing-
You look over the device and turn it on. The screen boots up and a familiar theme plays out. Your heart begins to race as you recognise it as the circus's theme. Then a loading icon appears in the form of the circus tent. Maybe it's not the same tent. Maybe this is a consequence. You should stop. You should let go. But you're stuck frozen. Your breathing is coming out in quick puffs.
A voice is screaming out of the speaker before the screen fully loads.
"PLEASE! IS SOMEONE THERE?! I DON'T WANT TO BE A- " the screen finally loads to show an office, the same office ypu spent nights in, and the person spots you. "OH! A- Wait, what is that?— OH WOW! WOW! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! A human!" Caine shouts.
Caine.
It’s Caine.
The same Caine whose face is made up of two mismatched eyes, currently has wide eyes with pinpoint pupils in desperation. With top and bottom row teeth, a top hat somehow still sits neatly on top. Its the same Caine from the circus. The same Caine you've been grieving for. Longing for. Your Caine.
Your ears are ringing, and you can’t truly hear his words as he lurches into the same welcome to the digital circus speech. It brings you back to your first day. But it's not like that memory, of his excitement and cheerfulness. Caine's tone is unconfident, desperate to appease you and keep your attention. Grabing hold of his only chance of company with both hands. He's rambling about all the things he can do, about the circus and about his adventures. It's all rushed. Different backgrounds flash to grab your attention and interest. Some backgrounds repeat in Caine's haste.
Your hand is shaking, you feel weak, and you slowly lower yourself to the ground. It's Caine, every part of him as you remembered. His voice, his matched eyes, a top hat and his cane. It's all him.
"I host activities! Grand adventures! Of various genres and difficulty levels! All for you if you just stay around-"
"Caine."
At the sound of his name, Caine stopped his ramble. No, at the sound of your voice has Caine pauses. Stopping to study your face through the camera. He floats closer to- your not sure where exactly, but he slowly takes up the whole screen.
He quietly calls out your circus name. Sounding fragile, hopeful, and scared all mix together. He looks so small, curled up as he stares at you. It brings you both immense relief and breaks your heart.
"Hey, Caine." You smile, teary-eyed as you move your thumb over his hand on the screen.
"Oh, my dear. My honey-bee. My love. You're…"
A silences fills the room as you stare at each other. Caine, taking in your human form, he knew what it looked like. Having access to the mind files, but to actually see you again after being alone for so long. He misses you. He misses everyone. But you, the one who supported him. Treated him kindly. The one he loves.
He missed you like crazy. Replaying every memory of your time together. Visiting old adventure maps just to feel closer to you. Occasionally, he even purposely experienced a digital hallucination for the sake of getting to see a version of you. How he wishes he could take back what he did, redo everything to get you back.
Caine blinks his eyes rapidly, snapping out of his thoughts. Appearing to remember something important. He takes a deep breath before speaking.
"I know, I know—" Caine emphasis and it sounded gut wrenching guilty. Lurching into a clumsy speech that's more feeling than rehearsed. "I was wrong. What I did- It was awful and inexcusable! I know that now. I see that! And-and I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
"I- I know, Caine." Your voice shakes. Caught off guard by the apology. At the closure, you’re suddenly getting and aren’t prepared for the emotional repercussions. How Caine acknowledges his wrongdoings takes a weight off you, reassures you that he wasn’t enjoying what he did. He wasn’t all bad. Having to process on top of those thoughts, that he’s alive. Tears fall down your face, you couldn't stop them even if you tried.
"Are you… Crying?" Caine asks slowly, as if it’s the first time he's seen the act of crying in front of him. He knows about crying. He made the mechanics that allow you and your digital bodies to cry in the circus. But to see real tears. Real tears you produce, it grabs Caine into a trance. Into a guilty trance for causing them.
"I just really happy you're okay-" your voice dies at the end. Becoming choked up with tears. Trembling with relief that Caine is alive, whole and in your hands as you cradle the device gently. Bowing over the device to keep it safe.
"Oh." Caine sniffs, in realisation of your words. He sits on his knees as close as he can to the screen. His eyes focus on you, refusing to look away, becoming overwhelmed by the same relief. The heartless AI reunited with his missing love. "Me too, my dear, me too."
divider by @/omi-resources ⟡ Tamagotchi png is from pinterest ⟡ I hope the edit is okay, errrr
summary: your boyfriend accidentally brings home his stethoscope, so you use it to check his heartrate.
pairing: frank langdon x girlfriend!reader
tags: 18+, mdni, afab reader, no use of y/n, established relationship, fluff, small bit of grinding, sitting on frank's lap, mischievous seduction
word count: 1.8k
notes: why doctor boyfriend if not do doctor stuff to him :]
please reblog if you enjoy! also, check out my masterlist!
The day is winding down. Aureate light streams in through your half-unfolded blinds, flooding your living room with natural lighting. The only other sources of lights are the numerous candles littering all flat surfaces, matching the sunset that’s dimming outside.
Evening tends to be your favorite part of the day. No more responsibilities now that your workday was over, just finishing up on the numerous things that had to be done before you were able to tuck yourself into bed and let the day wash away. Plus, that meant your boyfriend would be leaving his day shift, heading straight to your apartment to slouch into your arms and moan about how exhausting his day had been.
Bubbles pop in your sink as your hands duck into the warm water, fingers closing around the silverware floating near the bottom. You hum softly to the music floating through your house from your living room TV, fully entranced by the repetitive task of scrubbing at dishes and placing them in your drying rack. A single plate of dinner sits on the other side of your kitchen, covered in saran wrap to stay warm and clean, ready for Frank when he gets home.
You raise your head at the sound of keys outside your door, a smile already pulling at your lips. The door creaks open a moment later, revealing your boyfriend one glimpse at a time. His fingers around the door, his shoe, then his knee, slowly followed by every other part of him.
As usual, he looks ragged, weary from a long day. Multiple strands of hair droop over his forehead, tickling his eyebrows. He looks down as he kicks off of his shoes, those pieces staying stubborn as he lifts his head back up.
“Hey, baby,” he greets quietly. His voice usually tended to be softer when he came home, ears still ringing from the loud environment of the hospital, but you didn’t mind it. It fit the quiet and calm environment you tried to turn your apartment into for his arrival.
Keeping your hands in the sink, you lean back against him when his arm curls around your waist. His chin tucks into the dip between your collarbone and neck, watching as you scrub leisurely at a dish.
You tilt your head to press your temple against his head, smiling like a lovestruck fool. “How was work?” You ask, moving as slowly as possible to tuck the dish into the drying rack. One hand reaches in to pull the plug from the drain while the other reaches behind you to curl around his waist, squeezing at him playfully. “Save any lives?”
He groans, face pressing further into your skin as he rubs his cheek against your jaw like a cat. “Exhausting. Glad to be home with you.” The words are muffled as he presses his mouth to your neck, placing a chaste kiss there.
Once you’ve finished drying off your hands, you turn to face him, both hands now sliding around his waist. You press your chin into his sternum, blinking up at him. “I’m glad you’re home, too.”
As if reading your mind, he dips his head down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, shoulders lowering as he relaxes against you. After he pulls away, he bumps his nose against yours, moving to press a kiss to your cheekbone before finally untangling from you apart from one hand on your hip.
“‘m gonna shower.” Frank raises his hand to brush it through his hair, giving your skin a squeeze. “And then we can watch a movie?”
You nod, covering his hand with your own. “As long as you don’t fall asleep.”
He gives you an almost bashful smile. “No promises.” Leaning down, he presses a parting kiss to your forehead before finally disappearing out of the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”
After he leaves, you busy yourself with more cleaning up. Once he was out of the shower, you would be too busy spending as much time with him as possible, leading to your mess piling up until you managed to find another moment of free time. You always had to find these windows of opportunities to actually focus on getting things done.
The shower is still running by the time you finish tidying your kitchen, a groan every once in a while the only sign that Frank hadn’t fallen asleep beneath the spray. You glance around to assure you’ve finished everything, focus landing on his backpack, lying abandoned next to his shoes.
Well, there was no such thing as a bad time to gain some girlfriend points.
Kneeling on the floor, you unzip the backpack slowly. Reaching in, you expect to pull out just his lunchbox, however your fingers brush against something cool and metal instead. Curiosity quickly wins out, untangling it from whatever he had shoved in there and pulling it out.
His stethoscope glimmers beneath the golden glow in your apartment. The calligraphy “L” on the bell glints at you tauntingly, as if mocking you with how expensive it is. Frank had lost his old one a few months ago, meaning that you had to listen to a few days of whining about how he had to spend seventy-five-ish dollars just to do his job.
Placing the ear tips in both ears, you press the bell to your own chest and listen to the thud of your own heart. It’s so loud in your ear that you don’t hear Frank’s sock-covered feet padding towards you, hair still wet from his shower.
“Fuck, did I bring that home?” He groans, louder now that he’s had some time to relax. Both hands go onto your hips as he stands above you. “Meant to leave it in my locker.”
You grin as you look up at him, pulling one of the tubes out so you could hear him better. “I’m not complaining. This is fun.”
Taking off the stethoscope, you hang it around your neck. One hand curls into the fabric of his sweatpants to pull yourself up off the ground, his hand curling beneath your forearm to help you up. You use that as an opportunity to grab his wrist, turning and pulling him over to the couch. “Sit, sit, sit.”
Frank watches you with a look of pure amusement as he settles back on the couch, stretching out his legs as you settle beside him. Returning the headset back onto your ears, you press the bell to his chest. “How do I know if something’s wrong?”
“It doesn’t sound like badump, badump?” He jokes.
You scrunch your nose up in playful annoyance, the hand not holding the chestpiece reaching out to poke at his chest. “Be serious, doctor,” you scold. “I’m trying to make sure you’re not dying on me.”
That pulls a laugh out of him, heartbeat thumping a bit faster in your ears. An idea sparks in your brain at how easy it was to audibly raise his heartrate, the corner of your mouth pulling up into a smirk.
“Excuse me.” You sit up on your knees before throwing a leg over his lap, situating yourself down on his thighs. Your knees press into his hips as you squirm slightly, attempting to get comfortable.
Once you’ve settled, his hands on your thigh and thumbs rubbing circles into your skin, you focus back on his heartbeat. You must seem really focused on the way it picks up, because he laughs again. “Are you having fun, baby?”
“I have a diagnosis.” You sing-song the words, glancing up at him. You squirm once more, the apex of your thighs pressing directly in the spot that makes his legs tense beneath you. “I think you have a crush on me.”
Frank’s fingers tighten from where they’ve settled at the top of your thighs, fingertips pressing pale circles into your skin, exposed from the way your shorts ride up higher. Despite the way his pulse thrums even faster in your ears, he still smiles as he watches your face. “What led you to that conclusion?”
You hum in response, giving him a look before shrugging. “Your heartrate picks up when I do this.” Bracing the hand not holding the diaphragm against his abdomen, you give a singular roll of your hips, just enough pressure to hear a sharp intake of breath through the stethoscope’s headset. His grip on you also tightens, a subtle attempt of making you stop moving.
“We call that tachycardic,” he breathes out. His pupils have slowly grown in size, usurping the baby blue you’ve loved since the first time you looked into them. “Heartrate faster than normal resting rates.”
A smirk blooms on your lips, sitting a bit higher on his lap. The bell falls a bit lower, unable to hear his heartbeat and only slightly able to hear his breathing now, but you’re more focused on how he looks like this. Hair unruly as it airdries, pupils blown as he watches you, lips parted to breathe out all of his heavy exhales.
As much as he tried not to be, Frank was always easy to read. In the way he shoved his hands into his pockets when faced with a situation where he needed to think harder, or how he propped his arm up on the back of the couch whenever he wanted you to tuck yourself into his side. Maybe it was the fact that your eyes never strayed far from him when he was in your space, but it was pretty easy to tell what he wanted at all times.
And right now? His eyes are only on you.
Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, body rolling to drag along his again. Finally, he pushes back on your hips, grunting as he attempts to push you away.
“I have a diagnosis of my own for you,” he murmurs into the quiet bubble surrounding the both of you. His spine straightens off of the back of the couch, breath brushing against your lips.
Fingertips trace a spark up your spine before his hand curls around the back of your neck, applying pressure to the sensitive spots beneath your ears. “You have ulterior motives.”
A grin blossoms on your lips, head leaning back into his touch. A challenge of your own. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
Frank gives you a hum of mock acknowledgement, eyes flickering down your body, gaze molten at the sight of you perched in his lap. When he glances up at you, he’s wearing a matching smile. His fingers move from the back of your neck to the back of your head, pulling you down. “C’mere and kiss me, baby.” He mumbles in the limited space between your mouths.
You let a giggle slip out right before you finally press your lips to his, the sound muffled by the kiss. His hand stays in your hair the entire time, manuevering your head to kiss you deeper, until your lungs are sparse of oxygen and your lips are kiss-bitten and rosy.
When he finally pulls away, he grins against your lips. “I’m assuming no movie tonight?”
Summary: Dick should've known things get messy when a Lantern is involved.
Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader
CW/TW: Sexual content
I was going to make this angsty but then I decided to be nice
~~~
Dick had always been a light-sleeper. The type that startled awake just from hearing a floor creak or the hinges of a door squeal, the kind that had one foot in the dream world and the other in reality, both awake and asleep. He assumed it was anxiety, the constant paranoia and worry that came with being a hero in places like Gotham and Blüdhaven.
There were days he slept better than others, days when he managed to get a few hours of proper sleep, no dreams or alert ears picking up every little noise. Those days were usually the ones he spent over at someone else's place, tangled up in their limbs and blankets, breathing in their scent that left him feeling settled and calm. It was what he missed most about Kory: how safe he felt in her arms.
He slept a little better now, almost two years after their amicable breakup, even though he no longer awoke to the feeling of her ginger curls tickling his cheek or cracked his eyes open to the dark magenta-colored walls of her bedroom.
He attributed it, somewhat reluctantly, to the fact that he wasn't sleeping alone with Haley at the foot of the bed anymore.
With consciousness rapidly seeping into him, Dick was desperate to keep a grip on the last of sleep clinging to his eyelids before his mind could grow too awake to doze off again. He'd had a long day of dealing with angry crime bosses as Dick Grayson in Blüdhaven and popping over to Gotham to help return the Joker and Harley Quinn to Arkham as Nightwing, and all he wanted to do was rest.
He rolled over onto his back with his eyes still shut, incoherent mutterings leaving his mouth as he dropped his arm to the side, his palm pressing into the soft sheets in his search for that familiar warm body. He patted around blindly, his movements quickening and body leaning until he was sprawled out across the bed.
"(Y/N)?"
His head lifted from the pillows, heavy eyes opening to squint through the dark bedroom toward the bathroom door in case he'd gotten up to relieve himself. The door was cracked open, but the light was off, and he heard no movement coming from the tiny room.
"(Y/N)?"
Haley stirred from her spot at the end of the bed, her expression similar to his: squinty eyes, mouth tugged down in what looked like a frown, almost looking like she had furrowed brows. Her tail thumped softly against the bed, and he reached out toward her, patting her fuzzy head until she dozed off again. He stared at her for a second longer, puzzled.
Hadn't he left her in the living room?
His head tilted toward the door leading into the living room, finding it halfway open instead of closed. Dick swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, his body faintly aching from the activities that'd led to (Y/N) staying the night instead of heading home. He slid a pair of discarded boxers on, the fuzzy exhaustion in his head making his movements clumsy and uncoordinated.
Stumbling out into the living room, he clutched the doorknob and gently shut the door behind him, his back pressing against the cool hardwood. He swept his eyes over the room, searching for a dark figure roaming through his apartment, until his gaze settled on the familiar blue glow of the ring near the window.
(Y/N) was speaking quietly, his finger pressing into the earpiece in his ear, before his hand dropped to his side and he gave a small sigh. He continued muttering under his breath, and the ring's glow pulsed as if it were speaking back to him.
"Hey," He called out softly, watching (Y/N) turn away from the window to look back at him. The ring's glow dimmed. "Everything okay?"
Waking up to an empty bed wasn't unusual, whether it was Dick or (Y/N). They had their duties, their responsibilities. Dick had Gotham, Blüdhaven, and the Titans to take care of. (Y/N) had the whole world and multiple planets to watch over with the Green Lanterns. They were busy guys with secret identities to juggle on top of everything else.
It still left an ache in Dick's chest when he woke up in the mornings to find (Y/N) gone without a note or text, no warning, as if he were a stranger he'd hooked up with and not a longtime teammate.
"I'm leaving soon, Birdie," (Y/N) revealed, his shoulder pressing into the wall and his head turning away to look back at the mostly quiet city.
That startled the sleep fully out of his system. "Again? You've only been here a month."
Dick approached him, his heart in his throat for reasons he wanted to bury, and reached out to curl his fingers on the hem of his Coastal City Angels jersey. He wore one of Dick's black sweatpants, and the realization made Dick's core warm, pleased. He shoved the feeling down again and frowned at him, but (Y/N) only chuckled.
"Earth isn't the only planet in Sector 2814, Birdie. The others need the Lanterns to watch over them, too," (Y/N) reminded him, sounding more responsible than normal.
A young guy like (Y/N) belonged in a frat somewhere in California getting drunk, sleeping around, and somehow acing his classes, not travelling the universe. He probably would've been doing all those things, had the Blue Lantern Corps not sought him out when he was still a teenager and given him responsibilities even older Lanterns struggled with.
"Don't get greedy, Grayson," (Y/N) cooed with that smug smirk that reminded Dick he'd once been Hal's protégé. He leaned in to drag their noses together, his hand grasping the nape of Dick's neck. He pressed his thumb into a purple bruise, one low enough on his neck that the collar of his suit would thankfully cover up. "You're not the only one who needs my constant attention."
Dick rolled his eyes and shoved his shoulder lightly, with barely any real strength. He couldn't help but wonder how many others there were out across the sector, waiting for (Y/N) to return to them, to ease their worries. He knew he couldn't possibly be the only fool. "I worry about you, that's all. We all need you. Your abilities are helpful on the battlefield, and if you're too tired to focus-"
"I can take care of myself," (Y/N) assured him, his hand rising to ruffle Dick's black waves like he used to when they were younger, when all he saw when he looked at him was a little kid and not another protégé, only a few years younger than him. "And come on, you're not worried about my abilities on the battlefield." His smirk grew crooked.
How the Blue Lantern Corps had chosen him to be a Lantern was beyond Dick. (Y/N) reeked of sleazy mischief, not hope.
"You invited yourself over." Dick reminded him pointedly, his arms folding over his chest, but he went easy when (Y/N) curled his arms around his waist lazily. It was only slightly humiliating how easily he melted in his arms, leaning into him in the same way Haley would slump into him when he held her.
"I was in the area." (Y/N) shrugged, his fingertips toying with the waistband of the boxers. "I thought I'd see how my favorite copycat was doing."
Dick pursed his lips. This was a topic (Y/N) broached frequently, always teasingly, since the day Dick debuted as a solo hero with that black and blue suit. He hadn't been thinking about (Y/N) when he'd gone with the design, but the suit was admittedly a little similar to the Blue Lantern getup. "I didn't copy your costume."
"Sure." (Y/N) nodded, his mouth drawn in a playful, disbelieving line, his hand slipping beneath the fabric to grope a handful of soft flesh. He barely batted an eye when Dick stumbled completely into his chest with a soft grunt. "I totally believe it was all a coincidence and that the colors aren't the exact same."
"You-"
"Not to mention the design across the shoulders, I mean, Dickie-"
(Y/N)'s grin was wolfish, unapologetic as he squeezed hard enough to bruise, his finger flicking to press against Dick's still sensitive hole. Dick nearly choked on his breath; his arms dropped so he could fist the jersey in his hands in a vain attempt at grounding himself. It was useless. (Y/N)'s playboy reputation spoke for itself.
"-plagiarism is a serious offense, buddy. I know I'm the cooler one between the two of us, but who knows what poor civilians will get confused?"
Breathlessly, Dick murmured, "God, you suck."
"Yeah, and you always swallow."
Dick rolled his eyes again, heat warming his face while he fought back the urge to grin. "I'm starting to think you're stalling because you're the one desperate for my attention." He cocked his head to the side, arching a playful brow. "I wouldn't blame you, you know, but at least be honest with me." There was a silent plea somewhere in that sentence.
"You're the first one who calls whenever I get back to Earth, Birdie."
(Y/N)'s hands pushed at the boxers, nudging them down to Dick's thighs, where he lifted his leg to tug them off and let them slump onto the floor. He palmed at Dick's muscular thighs, grazing bruises and fading bite marks left behind. It lit Dick ablaze, twitching and aching.
"It's like I have a sweet little husband waiting for me at home. You should surprise me with an apron and nothing else someday."
While (Y/N)'s words were light-hearted, teasing to lightly annoy him, Dick couldn't help the way his heart stuttered in his chest. There was a part of him that ached desperately to have someone wanting him, loving him, and another afraid of the pandora's box that would open if he allowed love to settle permanently in his heart. Haley, his loyal companion and a mere dog, had been threatened once by the criminals of Blüdhaven.
What would he do if his loved one faced a similar threat?
While (Y/N) was strong and needed in battle for his numerous abilities, he was still human. Flesh and bones that could be torn open, broken, killed. The ring gave him the ability to heal himself and others, but without it, he was vulnerable. That scared the shit out of Dick, left him pacing his room after patrols when (Y/N) was away on another planet. It'd only worsen if his heart grew more attached.
"Hey." (Y/N) blinked at him, his hands slipping away from Dick's skin and hanging at his sides. "You alright-"
Dick surged forward, his palms slapping over (Y/N)'s cheeks to keep his head still while he kissed him, all teeth and tongue, lapping into his mouth like a man starved. His legs swung around (Y/N)'s hips, the sudden weight momentarily catching (Y/N) off guard enough for his body to tilt forward before he regained his balance. He chuckled into Dick's mouth, parting his lips to give Dick all the access he wanted.
The walk to the couch was clumsy, filled with stumbling and pausing when Dick needily grinded their hips together in the pursuit of friction, but (Y/N) managed to collapse on the cushion with Dick straddling his hips without tripping or dropping him. (Y/N)'s head rolled back, breaking the messy kiss to take a breath of air, the thin string of saliva connecting them being wiped away.
"Are you gonna miss me?" Dick asked breathily before he could stop himself, his hands fumbling with the drawstrings of the sweats to loosen them enough to make it easier to drag them down. "Tell me." He meant for it to sound like a demand, but it came out airy and begging.
"'Course I will." (Y/N) rested his head along the top of the back cushion, half-lidded eyes gazing at him with such intensity that it made Dick squirm. He pawed at Dick's hips, kneading his fingertips into the soft, scarred flesh lazily before he reached further back to grab more handfuls, forcing Dick against his chest again. "How could I not? You're my favorite copycat."
Dick pushed the jersey up, hands roaming (Y/N)'s abdomen and chest, mapping out grooves and curves he'd already memorized a long time ago. The jersey was tossed aside blindly once (Y/N) caught the hint and tugged it over his shoulders, huskily chuckling when Dick latched onto the exposed skin of his collarbone with suckles and kisses.
Dick had to make the most of it.
(Y/N)was often gone for weeks or months, depending on the situation on the other planets. The longest he'd been gone had been half a year back when they were still simply the sidekicks of Batman and the Green Lanterns, and Dick badgered John with questions weekly until he and Hal finally returned.
"How long this time?" He asked against his neck, panting into it as he tried catching his breath. He always asked, and each time, it was the same answer.
"I don't know, Birdie."
The frantic, anxious buzzing in his head disappeared once he sank onto him; it always did. His rhythm was messier than usual, thrown off by the nasty clawing urge in his chest to beg him to stay where he could keep an eye on him for once.
Hal and John had been Lanterns for a while before he'd come along, before the Blue Lantern Corps had assigned him to aid them in their job to protect Sector 2814. They didn't need him, not always.
Dick's pace constantly shifted between hard, quick grinding to slow, clumsy movements up and down. If it bothered (Y/N), he hardly showed it; his mouth was more focused on suckling more markings across Dick's collarbone and chest until it looked like he'd taken a beating.
He usually complained about it, lamented having to approach a friend for makeup to cover it up, but he pushed himself into (Y/N)'s mouth now.
Who knew how long it'd be before he felt (Y/N)'s lips on his skin, marking him like territory.
(Y/N)'s hands dropped from his ass to the back of his thighs, pressing a finger into a fading scar there before he toppled them over. Dick landed on his back, thankful he'd gone for a couch with soft cushions over a leather one, and naturally parted his legs for (Y/N) to perfectly slot between them.
He disliked the gap between them, but the pout was replaced swiftly when (Y/N) kneeled on the couch and lifted Dick's hips at just the right angle.
"Shit!"
Each rapid, hard thrust hit the bundle of nerves that made Dick's ears fill with white noise, his mouth falling open in a silent shout. His hands fumbled for purchase, one flying back to press against the armrest before he could be slammed into it, and the other grabbing onto one of the wrists holding his hip. Incoherent gibberish left his mouth, a string of words and curses mixing from the pure pleasure zapping through his body.
"It's like you were made jus' for me." Those words went straight to his head, a drawn-out whine coming from his throat. "I knew you were desperate for my attention."
Dick wanted to kill him. Dick wanted to wrap around him and never let go.
He shuddered when (Y/N) buried himself inside with one last hard, deep thrust, a breathy moan flowing from his lips at the heat of his release. His toes curled, his thighs tensed, involuntarily clenching around him and dragging out a grunt from the Lantern trembling faintly above him. (Y/N) wrapped his fingers around his length, red and weeping from being ignored, only having to give him a few pumps before his back was arching off the cushion again.
His eyes locked on the ceiling above him, his chest rising and falling in heavy, deep breaths, his body slumping with the last of its energy slipping away. He usually preferred it. He felt lighter, less weighed down from the days' events when (Y/N) was done with him, but now he only felt hollow, numb.
He was willing to admit it to himself now: he was in love with (Y/N).
He was in love with the one guy his age on the team whose job was to leave. Dick would've found it manageable if it were simply travelling to another city, another state, another country. He had the money for constant trips, the means and access to vehicles that'd get him to faraway places in under an hour. He couldn't follow (Y/N) to outer space.
He went without protest when (Y/N) lifted his body off the couch cushions and stood up, his body emitting a soft blue glow when he levitated and flew them into the bedroom. Haley stirred once, her floppy ears perking and her nose twitching before she slumped again once she realized it was them.
(Y/N) gingerly set him down, helping him lean against the counter and clean the mess from his thighs. His touch was gentler than usual, but they always hooked up when they were both in better moods. It almost felt apologetic.
"Are there others?" Dick asked quietly, voice hoarse, his hands resting over the counter
"Others?" (Y/N) repeated questioningly, tossing the toilet paper into the trash can and straightening up. "What others?"
"Others you sleep with, (Y/N). On Earth, up there."
His head remained tilted down, wet strands of hair clinging to his sweaty forehead and barely covering his lowered eyes. He was supposed to be Dick Grayson, an infamous heartthrob of the well-known playboy Bruce Wayne, but he didn't feel like that. He didn't want to be that. He wanted to be someone's, while simultaneously fearing what that meant for them.
"Not consistently." (Y/N)'s answer came quietly, a hint above a whisper. He sounded cautious. "Why do you ask, Birdie? I'm clean, if that's what you mean. Wally mentioned you mope over Star whenever I'm not around, so I assume you are, too."
Dick's bottom lip rolled into his mouth, his teeth digging into it. "Can you stay this time?" He asked next, lifting his eyes to meet (Y/N)'s puzzled stare. "Just this once?"
"You know I can't, Birdie. This is my job, my responsibility. Earth isn't the only planet in this sector with living beings that need rescuing, you know that." (Y/N)'s back leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossing over his abdomen. A blue shimmer travelled over his body from the top of his head down to his toes as the ring generated his costume over his body. "Nothing we can do about that."
"Hal and John worked alone and together for years before you came along, (Y/N). They did fine without you." Dick's legs felt wobbly when he pushed himself off the counter. "Can't you... ask? They can go together if they really need the backup."
This was unfair of him, Dick was well aware. Even when they clashed, when they had their disagreements and arguments, he always dropped everything to help Bruce in Gotham. It was an unreasonable ask of him, but Dick couldn't bear having to process his feelings, to fall in deeper, only to have to spend each day wondering if (Y/N) was okay.
"It's not about backup, Dick. My whole purpose is to aid them, to assist them. My ring helps them, keeps them from tiring out, and their ring helps me reach my fullest potential. It's a symbiotic relationship, not jus' something I do for the hell of it." (Y/N)'s hands reached out toward him, settling over his hips casually, like they belonged there. "I'll be back, anyway. I always come back."
Dick let the defiance in his chest evaporate, more content with leaning into (Y/N) and hooking his chin over his shoulder. Not quite a hug, his arms were still limp at his sides, but still affectionate, satisfying his need for contact. "I want to talk to you about something when you get back, yeah?"
"Uh-oh." (Y/N)'s voice was teasing again. "Sounds like I'm in trouble. Maybe we'll take the scenic route this time."
"Don't you dare," Dick murmured, exhaustion beginning to creep into the edges of his eyes.
(Y/N) laughed, comforting and freeing, before he pressed a light kiss to Dick's temple. His hands massaged his exposed skin a little longer. "I wouldn't dream of it, Birdie."
Dick lingered by the window when (Y/N) departed from him, watching the soft blue glow rise toward the night sky until it became a dot, until it became nothing.
He stumbled into the living room, slipping the boxers back up his thighs and lifting the jersey from the floor. He looked it over, traced the signatures written in sharpie by various members of the baseball team (Y/N) loved so much.
He slid it over his shoulders, basking in the scent that was all (Y/N), and headed back to bed. He took Haley into his arms, the weight of her body grounding him again, and he settled into the pillows.
Haley slumped almost immediately, quiet snores leaving her like she'd worked all day instead of lazing around the apartment. He dragged his fingers back and forth over her fur absentmindedly.
The apartment felt colder, all of a sudden. Lonelier.
Three weeks had passed since (Y/N) and Hal's departure into outer space, and Dick kept himself busy to keep the impatience thrumming under his skin in check.
He took longer patrols that went on until dawn, threw himself into case after case until the Blüdhaven police force was sheepishly handing him traffic violations and hit-and-runs when he stopped by, visited the Tower to check in with the team (and pointedly avoided Kory and Donna's knowing glances).
Eventually, he found himself with nothing much to do. Even Gotham was having a calmer day than usual, which naturally meant Bruce was on higher alert, and the Titans had gone out for a day together in the city. Dick was almost tempted to join them, but instead, he found himself visiting the Watchtower.
Wally's smirk was smug, as knowing as Kory and Donna's, his mouth slowly moving with his chewing. "He's not here yet." He told him, taking another bite of his pizza, a string of cheese clinging to his chin until he licked it away.
Dick was going to complain to Linda about his bullying one of these days.
"God, you're like a lost puppy. Who would've thought?"
"Shut up." Dick huffed, slumping down on one of the chairs in the lounge, his feet propping up on the coffee table.
"Come on, man! You hated the guy when we were younger, when we were still Robin and Kid Flash."
Wally licked some sauce cleaning to the corner of his mouth, only to shovel the rest pizza slice into it, staining his lips again.
"Dude," Wally chewed fast, swallowing down the mess in his mouth with one gulp. "You're whipped."
Dick rolled his eyes beneath his domino mask. "I didn't hate him."
"Oh, you definitely did, Birdie."
Dick's body jolted at the familiar croon, and Wally, ever the bastard, cackled across from him, his head tilting back and shoulders shaking with a hearty laugh mixed with snickers about retelling the scene to Linda. Arms braced along the backrest of the seat, body heat emitting from the person behind him, and Dick tilted his head back.
"Hey." He greeted quietly, his cheeks warming.
(Y/N)'s mask fizzled away in a blue shimmer, showing off his crinkled eyes. "Hey. I want my jersey back."
"I think I missed a few pages." Hal's voice cut in through Wally's quiet snickers and the soft hum of machines and computers working around them.
Dick turned his head to the Green Lantern, spotting him lingering by the door with his hands on his hips and his brow arched up high, close to his hairline.
"Since when are you and Nightwing a thing? And you didn't tell me? Does John know? I bet John knows."
"Been a thing since forever, leprechaun." (Y/N) straightened up, his grin playful when he directed it at his former mentor. Dick's breath hitched in his throat. "Your vision's getting worse, Hal. You're aging. You can't see what's in front of you anymore."
The two Lanterns stared at each other for a moment longer before (Y/N) darted off in a streak of blue with Hal right at his feet in green, their bodies flying through the room before they disappeared down the hallway. (Y/N)'s laughter echoed off the metal walls, muddled with Hal's shouts filled with feigned anger.
"Dude," Wally tilted his head, his brows furrowed and lips quirked upward. "Have you been dating this whole time and didn't even know?"
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
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