#anyway these two make me unwell your honor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bonnyskies · 4 years ago

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deadly agenda ⇢ myg

min yoongi is a dangerous man. you’re a manipulative wife. together, you two are a deadly duo, and you both have your own agenda.

pairing — emperor!yoongi x wife!malereader ft. king-husband!taehyung

genres — angst, sexual themes, royalty!au, strangers-to-lovers!au

warnings — age-gap (reader is 20, yoongi is 28), swearing, degrading terms, mentions of death, feminization, descriptions of murder, sexual themes, infidelity, betrayal, slight voyeurism, yoongi is intimidating and reader is manipulative, basically they’re just plain evil

author’s note — i hate tumblr’s new update. i had more to write (not enough for a part two) but couldn’t because of the new 250 text box rule. but as for this story, this is probably the longest one i’ve written so far and the one i’m most proud of. anyway, hope you all enjoy and sorry for taking so long to upload this, took lots of planning and rewriting, plus i’ve been busy with school too.

word count — 7.4k

masterlist

Min Yoongi is a cautious, yet observant man.

Whoever steps foot in his palace, he makes sure to know everything about them. Who they are, they’re background, appearance, and how they approach him. Each and every thing can help him learn who he can trust, and who he cannot, who are his allies—and who are his enemies.

Yoongi stood by his palace’s entrance, accompanied with his guards and greeted his special guests, one by one as they walked up his home’s grand steps. He makes sure to take notes on each and every person’s facial expression, their appearance, chosen attire, and the certain way they walk up to him.

Anything could benefit him into knowing them. Their wealth and clan can be identified based on their specific appearance and choice of clothing. Their facial expressions help him learn what their true feelings and intentions are towards him that are hidden by their fake smiles and words. And lastly, the way they walk up to him can help him know the type of personality they have, whether that be obedient and innocent, or arrogant and untrustworthy.

The way he learns about his guests have never failed him. That was, until he met you.

Yoongi would be lying if he said he wasn’t astonished when his eyes laid on you for the first time. There were many things that left him utterly speechless when meeting you. For one, when his advisor told him that his guest would be bringing his wife, he was expecting a woman—not a man.

Another thing that left Yoongi speechless was your appearance, mostly your attire. You were dressed in feminine-like clothing, silk robes that were decorated with gold jewelry instead of fine material clothing with armor plating like what many men of royalty wear. And you also didn’t hold a blade like most men do too. Instead, you held a simple wooden decorative fan.

And lastly, your eyes.

Yoongi has a remarkable judge of character. Maybe not as good when it came to you, but still adequate. On the outside, your eyes were shining with gentleness and a kind greeting. But he could tell there was something else hidden behind them—something that left him intrigued by you.

You had an agenda—plans, and Yoongi was determined to find out what they are.

The welcoming feast was extremely dull.

Yoongi absorbed gallons of wine into his system, hoping that would help numb his mind and get through the rest of the evening without having to tear somebody’s head off from their body.

And apparently you thought the same as he did. Across the table, Yoongi watched as you fanned yourself out of boredom while everyone else were socializing with one another, an unamused facial expression shown on your face. Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle behind his glass when seeing one of the other wives say something to you and you flashed her a quick smile before dropping it back down into a straight line.

It seems his attention on you didn’t go unnotice because next thing he knew, your eyes were now on him. Yoongi was expecting hints of disgust or uncomfort from you, but instead he was met with sly smirk and a raised brow.

Yoongi watches intently as you leaned over and whispered into your husband’s ear. Your husband—Kim Taehyung then stood up from his seat and bowed his head, “Excuse me, your Majesty.”

Yoongi turned his head towards your husband, diverting his attention completely away from you.

“My wife is not feeling well at the moment, so with your permission, would it be alright if he can take his leave from the feast early?”

The entire dining hall fell silent, shocked expressions plastered on everyone’s faces at the table.

Nobody has ever dared to leave one of Min Yoongi’s feasts before. Who would want to, right? It’s considered a great honor for one self and their kingdom to be invited by the Emperor himself to attend one of his events.

Whispers began to spread amongst the guests.

“How shameless is Kim Taehyung’s wife?”

“Wanting to leave the Emperor’s feast early? Utterly shameless I tell you.”

“That Taehyung needs to discipline his wife.”

“Doesn’t he know how important his Majesty’s events are? And he wants to leave just because he isn’t feeling well? Unbelievable.”

“He needs to learn some manners—”

Anxiety swept across Taehyung’s face when hearing the gossips coming from the other royals, eyes wide and mouth gaped open with panic. “Forgive me, your Majesty, I never intended to—”

With just the clear of his throat, everybody fell silent once again and all eyes were now on him. Yoongi’s gaze would shift between you and your husband, curiosity filling his veins when noticing that there wasn’t any signs of illness presently visible on you. You weren’t trembling, your eyes weren’t red and skin wasn’t showing any signs of flushness. You looked fine.

That only caused more questions to form in Yoongi’s mind. Like, what do you exactly want, and what is your reason for being here? Because according to his advisor, you weren’t even part of the guest list until today. That only raised even more suspicions he had towards you.

And it’s not like he can just throw you out—actually, he can. It’s just that he doesn’t want to because now he’s curious, and he wants to see how things turn out.

“He can go,” Yoongi says a brief silence, immediately noticing the small smile creeping onto your lips. “But take him to see the physician and let him check him out,” and then it dropped.

“N-No, your Majesty,” you spoke up, lips parted. “You don’t have to do that—”

“You’re feeling unwell, right?” Yoongi then asks, smirking at the silence he got in reply. “Well, you should let my physician diagnose you then. Don’t worry though, you’re in great hands.”

One of his guards that stood by his side approached you and started to guide you to the physician’s office. And while you were leaving, Yoongi could see the glare coming from you and aimed right at him.

If you wanted to play games with him, he’ll play.

Wandering through the palace halls at night was something Yoongi usually does whenever he can’t sleep.

And apparently you had the same tendency too.

While mindlessly strolling through his palace’s hallways, Yoongi’s eyes suddenly landed on your approaching figure, the first thing catching his attention was your choice of clothing. You were dressed in golden inner robes, your sleep-wear, and the material was so thin and transparent that every feature about you was visible to him. The sight of your clear, smooth skin and every curve of your body and muscles made his mouth water. It was like you were purposely dressed like that to seduce him.

Another thing that caught his eye was the small, slightly torn grayish book that was in your grasp, which was where your complete attention was on because you still haven’t noticed his presence despite the two of you walking towards the other.

“Hello, your Highness,” you jumped out of fear, eyes wide and closing your book when your gaze landed on him. “May I ask why you are wandering around my palace this late at night?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you simply answered, fingers tight around the cover the book, which only made Yoongi even more curious as to what you were exactly reading. “And it seems you are having the same problem as well, am I correct?”

Yoongi only hummed in reply, taking another small step towards you until you two now stood only inchest apart, him towering over you and staring down right at you. “Is there something wrong with your chambers? I can tell my servants to move you and your husband into a more comfortable place for you—”

“No no, your Majesty,” you were quick to interject. “Everything is perfect. It’s just that I’ve always had trouble sleeping at another royal’s residence, that’s all.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but find your reason funny, because he has always had trouble sleeping when there were other people staying in his palace.

A brief silence came between you two before Yoongi spoke up once again, “I’ll be taking a quick walk around my garden, you can accompany me if you like.” He didn’t wait for your reply before leaving, but when hearing the sound of your footsteps behind him right after, a smirk grew on his lips.

“You know, you never really introduced yourself when we first met,” Yoongi then brought up while the two of you made your way to the gardens.

“Forgive me, your Majesty,” you bowed your head apologetically before replying, “My name is ___, Kim ___.”

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Kim ___,” Yoongi reached down and took your hand into his, pressing a soft, yet tender kiss on the back of your palm, smirking at the evident blush forming on your cheeks. “And I’ve got to say, you are looking quite well for someone that claimed to be feeling sick not even three hours ago,” and that is when your smile dropped.

“Must’ve been my anxiety,” you were quick to reply back, your eyes never leaving his. “After all, I am staying at the Emperor’s palace for the first time.”

Yoongi was impressed honestly, he had to admit. For everything he had to say against you, you had something say right back at him. There isn’t a lot of people who have that type of skill to think of words—believeable words right on the spot. Anybody would believe what you were saying—too bad he isn’t just anybody.

“Must be...,” Yoongi just says, eyeing you slightly. His gaze then shifted onto the book in your hand. “What are you reading there?”

“Oh this,” you held the book up, “It’s called Flowers of the Region—a guide to every type of flower that is grown and can be found in both the South and the North. It’s my favorite book.”

“Well, that’s fortunate,” Yoongi points out, “you like flowers, and we so happen to be going to my garden. What’s your favorite flower?”

“Lily of the Valley,” you answer with a smile. “Have you heard of it?”

“I have,” Yoongi replied, his interest towards you growing even more. Lily of the Valley, despite the beautiful features of the white flower, it is proven to be quite deadly when digested. “They are only found on top of the Southern mountains—but lucky for you, I happen to grow them right here in my garden.”

Your smile grew even wider. “That’s great.”

The rest of the walk to the gardens was in silence with you trailing forward while Yoongi stood back. And with your eyes focused on the path in front of you, Yoongi couldn’t help but send glances at you every once in a while, his eyes burning into your back, admiring at the clear view your smooth skin through the thin, transparent material of your inner robes.

He surely needs to give whoever crafted your sleepwear a raise—and a big one too.

When the two of you finally got to the gardens, you were left instantly speechless at the sight of the many plots of different flowers, ranging from beautiful, vibrant ones that were quite common to dark, mysterious ones that you’ve never even seen before.

Yoongi couldn’t deny how adorable you looked though when seeing his garden for the first time, eyes wide, shining with admiration and your mouth gaped open.

“This is beautiful,” you gasped, leaning down and running your fingers delicately over some flowers.

“Thank you,” Yoongi stood beside you, “I make sure my gardeners take good care of this place.”

Silenced filled the atmosphere as Yoongi stood back and silently watched you admiring the many flowers. Normally he’d be annoyed for someone touching his property, but for some odd reason when it came to you he didn’t mind so much. Perhaps it’s because this might be the only way for him to get close to you and learn about your true intentions—or maybe he just really wants to fuck you.

Yoongi found himself once again staring at you, watching as you bent over to get a closer look at one of the flowers, giving him a perfect view of your ass and hips, both in which he wants to grab and caress with his large hands.

“So,” Yoongi spoke up after some silence, “how exactly did you become the new Lady Kim?”

Yoongi instantly noticed the way your body tensed from his question. “I was his Highness’s personal servant. When his wife suddenly passed away, he was a complete mess and I was the only one that stayed by his side through the entire mourning process. I was the one that comforted him whenever he was feeling down, I made sure he was taking care of himself and helped him with his royal duties.”

Yoongi then noticed your shoulder slumping. “After about a month or so, he started seeking me for a...different kind of comfort.” Sex. “Soon later he decided to make his new wife—the new Lady Kim.”

“You don’t seem so happy about the change in position,” Yoongi commented, “I’m sure this is much better than being a simple servant. You’re a royal now.”

“Oh, I am,” you quickly corrected him, “But being a man and having a feminine title can sometimes make things complicated.”

“Well then, don’t make them complicated.” Yoongi suggested, “You’re not a servant anymore, you’re a royal. They may not respect you now, but you have the power to make them do so.”

“Don’t worry, I know,” you told him sternly. “They’ll learn to respect me. Whether that be the hard way or the easy way—it’s their choice. So you better watch out, your Majesty, or something bad might happen to you,” you laughed softly.

Yoongi released a forceful chuckle, eyes briefly squinting at you suspiciously. It may have sound like a harmless joke, but to him, he could hear the small hints of truth behind them. “Oh trust me, I will. I wouldn’t want you as an enemy.”

“And you as well,” you replied, eyeing him back.

Silence came between you two again, Yoongi leaving you to inspect his garden in peace while he stood back and watched you. It wasn’t until an hour has passed you spoke up again, yawning, “we should head back to bed, your Majesty. We have that conference in the morning with the other royals and we need the energy.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi agreed, nodding and stepping aside so that you could walk ahead of him and back inside the place with him following right beside you. “Let me walk you back to your room.”

You didn’t say anything, only held your head low to hide the small grin on your face as the both of you made your back to the chambers. And as you two got closer to your destination, you both were froze at the sound of moaning.

Yoongi was confused at first as who it could be, but when turning to you and seeing the hardened expression on your face, he knew.

“O-Oh, Taehyung—f-faster, please!”

Yoongi was speechless. He knew many royals took on concubines while being married, but he didn’t know someone could so shameless as to bringing them to another person’s residence alongside their spouse. “Your Highness—”

“Don’t bother, your Majesty,” you spoke calmly, eyes hard and emotionless. “I’m use to it by now and it doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

“Really, it doesn’t?”

You shook your head. “At first it did, but after sleeping with my husband so many times I have learned that the only person he cares to satisfy is himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle. What kind of husband doesn’t have the desire to satisfy is own wife? Maybe he should take you to his chambers and show you exactly what you’re missing. “Well, I-I’m still sorry for you.”

You simply shrugged your shoulders, “it doesn’t matter, your Majesty. Have a good night.”

Yoongi watched as you then opened the door went inside the chamber, causing your husband and the woman to stop and look at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t mind me,” you said to them, not even bothering to glance at them, shocking Yoongi. “I’ll be on the balcony reading my book. Just let me when you two are done.”

Taehyung’s attention instantly went back to the woman that was straddling his lap when hearing your words, hands kneading her breasts and hips and started thrusting back up into her, causing moans to erupt from both of them. Yoongi didn’t why, but the sight of them made his blood boil.

Maybe he should go in there and fuck you in front of your husband? That’ll show him what he is missing out.

Yoongi continued to watch through the crack in the door as you walked past the couple and went onto the balcony. And once you were out of his sight, that’s when he finally got a clear view of the woman on your husband’s lap, and he instantly recognized her. She was one of the servants that accompanied you and Taehyung here. Yoongi distinctly remembered seeing her earlier today, serving you tea after you got back from seeing the physician.

Yoongi glared at the couple, scoffing at the sight. What did that Kim Taehyung see in that whore of a servant that you don’t have?

You are far more enticing than she is.

Taking one last glance at the shameless couple, Yoongi retreated back to his chambers. And while he did so, his mind suddenly went back to you. How did someone so...unique end up with a man like Kim Taehyung? He’s a weak person, a shame to royal blood. You deserve to be with someone with real power, someone who would never leave you unsatisfied, both physically and emotionally. Someone like me.

Yoongi could feel himself harden just from the thought of you.

Damn you for having this type of power over me, his mind cursed. Yoongi has slept with countless of other royals before, both men and women, and he has never encountered someone like you.

You are truly something else.

“Damn,” Yoongi mumbled out to nobody in particular, palming himself through his robes. “How the hell am I going to get rid of this?”

And right on queue, a young servant boy just happened to be walking right by Yoongi when the question ran through his head.

“Stop,” was all he said, making the servant boy freeze in his place.

“Y-Yes, your Majesty?”

Yoongi took slow, intimidating steps towards him until he was towering over him, using his hands to cup his chin and forcing the servant boy to meet his eyes. “How would you feel having the honor of spending the night with your Emperor?”

The servant boy couldn’t stop the small smile from forcing on his face. “I-I would love that, your Majesty.”

That was Yoongi needed to hear before leaning down capturing the servant’s boys lips with his, hands moving to his thighs and hoisting him up in his arms and carrying him into his chambers, lips never separating.

“You’re a eager one, are you?” Yoongi chuckled against the servant boy’s mouth, moving his lips down his neck and forcing a whimpering moan from him.

“I-It’s my duty to serve y-you, your Majesty.”

That brought a smile on Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi couldn’t find you anywhere the next day.

He couldn’t find at you breakfast, he couldn’t find you during the conference with the other royals and their wives, and he couldn’t find you at lunch. Now as dinner was approaching, there still wasn’t any sign of you anywhere.

But he had no problem finding your husband. Wherever he saw Taehyung, he saw that whore of a servant trailing behind him like a pet—but you no where to be seen.

Yoongi thought about approaching him to ask about your whereabouts, but he couldn’t help but think of the consequences that would happen afterwards. But that still didn’t stop him from sending glares at the younger royal and the servant every now and then, which didn’t go unnotice by either of them.

“Is there something wrong, your Majesty,” Taehyung finally asks, breaking the tensed silence between the two of them. “You’ve been staring at me all day today and haven’t said a single word.”

“Oh nothing,” Yoongi simply replies, eyes still trained on him while twirling his glass of wine. “Just wondering where your wife is at right now, since everyone else is here. Is he still not feeling well from last night?”

For a very very brief moment, Yoongi could see panic glinting in his eyes before answering, “o-oh yes, your Majesty, he told me that he’s still feeling unwell so I allowed him stay back in the room.”

Liar, was Yoongi’s first thought, eyes glaring even more at the long, black-haired royal.

Everyone at the table could feel the tension between their Emperor and the young royal, and still no one chose to speak up about it.

Yoongi had a reputation. He is the first ever Emperor to achieve the throne through combat rather than family bloodline—and he is also the youngest ruler to ever be placed higher than a simple king. But that weren’t the only things he was known for. He was also generally known for being intelligent and quite reserved, and cruel if absolutely necessary, and also able to hold a grudge. It may sound simple, but everybody knew that if their Emperor had something against you, your days were limited.

So that’s why nobody chose to speak up when seeing the menancing glares their Emperor were sending at the youngest and only surviving Kim. Because they knew if they intervened, they’d only anger him and get on his list, and that’s the exact opposite of what they want to do.

“Your Majesty,” his advisor suddenly whispered right beside him. “I think it would be a good idea to continue the meeting. Some of your guests has some things to say about the...improvements you’re doing to the North.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw, eyes scanning over Taehyung once more before turning his attention to the other royals. “Sure,” he then says, “which one of you want to speak first?”

Not even a second later, Park Jimin, ruler of the Park Kingdom stood up from his seat and spoke. “Your Majesty, my council and I believe that the border that you have placed around my region is completely unnecessary.”

“How so?” Yoongi asks, leaning back against his chair with an amused look on his face. He had to admit that he was impressed that the blonde man was the first to speak up. He may not be the youngest royal out of everyone, but he certainly is the one with the least experience when it came politics.

“For starters your border cuts right through my kingdom’s river, slicing our water supply in half,” he starts, voice slightly raising. “And the amount of wood you required for the construction of the wall resulted in about ninety percent of the forests in my region to be completely cut down, forcing most of my workers into unemployment.”

Yoongi continued to listen closely with his hands laced together and resting on top of his chest, rocking back and forth in his chair with an intent glint in his eyes.

“I also find it completely unfair how your border only crosses over my kingdom but no one else’s.” Jimin continued to rant, jamming his finger repeatedly angerly against the table while keeping his eye contact with him. “I think it’s not for protection like you have claimed many of times, but as a prison, to keep my people in check. You’re nothing but a—”

Yoongi slammed his hand heavily onto the table, instantly silencing the young royal and causing everyone to gulp nervously. He may at times find it amusing when someone fights back, but he will never allow anyone to talk down against him, not in his own residence.

“You think I built that wall as a prison?” Yoongi asks, chuckling when the blonde man didn’t reply. “Are you forgetting what happened before I built that wall? Spies from the South would come right into our territories and would gather information on us, murder our people in their sleep—that’s how your parents died, am I correct? Some spy that sneaked into their palace assassinated them when they were asleep? It would such a shame if the same thing happens to you—after I take down the wall, of course.”

Yoongi smirked when noticing the seeing Jimin’s jaw clenching and hands angrily balling into fists. “So don’t you ever accuse me again? Because everything I do is for the best of my people, not just yours. The wall is only bordering your land because your land is the only one that connects with the South.”

Jimin’s head hung low, hands unclenching and lips dropping into the frown.

“So before you come at me, you should make sure that you have all the information, do you understand me?” Jimin nodded and sat down.

Everybody tensed when Yoongi then stood up from his seat and slowly, intimidatingly made his way to Jimin’s chair. And when placing his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle when feeling him jump slightly underneath his touch. “Normally I’d kill anyone who spoke to me that way,” leaning down, he whispered into Jimin’s ear, sending chills along his pale skin, “but I’ll let it slide for once since you’re new to this whole thing.”

“T-Thank you, your Majesty.”

With one last pat on the shaking man’s shoulder, Yoongi pulled away, and he was standing straight again, his eyes suddenly fell on your figure who stood near the entrance of the conference hall. But you weren’t alone, no, three servants that he couldn’t recognize was with you. The four of you seemed to be in a deep conversation, and with everybody focused on him, nobody noticed you.

Yoongi’s eyes slightly squinted out of suspicion when seeing you then bow your head at the three servants, a smile on your face before each of you went your separate ways.

Yoongi is definitely going to look into that.

“Now,” returning his attention back to his guests, Yoongi leaned himself against the table, keeping close to the blonde man that was still trembling. “Does anyone else have anything to say to me?”

“N-No no, your Majesty,” Jung Hoseok, another royal spoke up, gulping anxiously as he tightened his hand around his wife’s who sat beside him. “We have no complaints whatsoever, you’re doing an amazing job—the perfect ruler.”

Kiss ass, Yoongi rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from the table. He then shifted his attention towards your husband and asks, “what about you, your Highness? Anything to say?”

Taehyung shook his head. “No, your Majesty.”

“What a bunch spineless people,” Yoongi’s mind scoffed, and he couldn’t agree more.

His advisor then rose from his chair and spoke up, “okay everyone, thank you all for attending his Majesty’s annual end of conference feast this year. You may all now return to your rooms and get some rest before heading back to your own residences in the morning.”

Yoongi stayed back and bid farewell to everyone, and once everyone was gone he left the conference hall with only one thing on his mind—you. He was determined to find out what exactly were you and those three servants were discussing about. Yoongi was so rapt on you that he didn’t even hear his advisor calling out of him to come back.

He practically jogged to the chambers hall, heading straight to your room and when he got there, just as he was about barge right through the door he was then stopped by a sudden sound. Moans could be heard on the other side of the door—female moans. Yoongi’s hands were already hovering over the door handle before he opened it slightly to where there was only a crack, giving him the view of seeing your husband with same servant girl from the night before.

Yoongi watches as she claws his back, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he place open mouth kisses along her bare chest and thrusted deep into her, causing loud, pleasurable moans to erupt from both of their mouths.

“T-Tae,” the young servant girl gasped, hands running up and down his sweaty back and fingers digging into his marked, glistening skin. “I’m close.”

“Me too, love,” he groaned back, leaning down and capturing her lips into a passionate kiss. “Together, okay...?”

Utterly shameless, Yoongi shook his head and pushed away from the door with disgust. Just as he was about to continue searching for you, he froze at the sound a voice behind him—a female voice.

“Are you looking for Lady Kim, your Majesty?”

Yoongi turned around and was greeted by one of your servants, hands laced together and hanging in front of her with a wide smile on her face. “No, I’m not,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. He expected her to just nod her head and leave, but instead she released a small chuckle and turned around, saying in a soft tone, “follow me.”

Yoongi was hesitant, eyes burning suspiciously into the servant girl’s back as she began to walk away. But he soon decided to follow her despite the constant warnings that were running through his head at the moment.

The servant’s gaze was trained on the path in front of her, not even bothering to acknowledge the glare she was receiving by platinum-haired man that was trailing right behind her.

The warnings that were consuming Yoongi’s head started to get louder as he continued to follow her deeper into his residence, parts of his home that he hasn’t even been in.

Yoongi stopped in his place when the servant led him to a room with dark, double doors. “What is this,” he asks with a cold expression, causing the young girl to chuckle and open the door without saying a word to him. He was about to question her even more but when he got to see what was behind the door, leaving him speechless.

Standing right in front him was you, along with over a dozen guards and servants that were from many different kingdoms. Some of the guards and servants were part of the Park Kingdom, some were from the Jung Kingdom, and others were from your own home.

“What’s going on here?” Yoongi asks, his eyes glancing across the many different pairs that were staring right back at him.

“They work for me,” came out of your mouth. “We are all part of movement that believes that the North needs a change in leadership—which is you. You’re the only that deserves to rule the North, not these cowards.”

Yoongi was speechless. For once in his life he didn’t know to say. For the first time he wasn’t the one that was planning in the shadows, plotting against somebody—but instead it was people who he has never even met before. “Why,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.

“Because war is coming your Majesty,” you stepped towards him to where you stood only inches away from his face, staring up to meet his eyes. “My agents told me that the South is planning an invasion into our territory, and the way the other kingdoms are ruling their land—we won’t survive this war. You are the only one that is capable of leading us to victory.”

Yoongi turned towards your followers. “Do you all agree with him?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” one of the guards spoke up. Each and every person then stepped forward and began to speak loudly on their opinions of their leaders.

“Park Jimin is too young to be King—he doesn’t know how to rule.”

“He can’t even hold a sword properly.”

“Jung Hoseok is a spineless man!”

“Damn right he is! The moment the South comes barging intl his palace, he’ll do whatever it takes to save his own skin and not his people.”

“Kim Taehyung is shameless bastard who would rather spend his time fucking his servants than leading his own Kingdom.”

Yoongi could see you snicker at that comment.

“He spends our taxes buying whores instead of using it to improve our home.”

“None of them belong on the throne!”

“They are right, your Majesty,” you stared at him with a small smirk on your lips. “Out of everyone, you’re the only that deserves to rule us. You are the one who will lead us to glory.”

Yoongi stared down at you with such desire. He may have found you attractive before, but now he couldn’t help but find you utterly irresistible. “So this isn’t just some power trip? Doing all this just to get to the top?”

Yoongi had his suspicions already about the war. He has heard from his own agents that the South were planning on some sort of invasion, but there wasn’t any evidence that confirmed that. So sadly he hasn’t been able to do any preparations—at least, none without the other royals knowledge of it.

You shook your head. “I don’t care about power, your Majesty—only survival, and you’re the best way to achieve that.”

“I see,” Yoongi reached up and stroked his chin, “how would you all do this anyway? Kill the rulers of each Kingdom can be tricky, and what about their heirs?”

“It’s quite easy,” you answered with a small grin. “They all have their jobs,” you nodded at your followers, “once they are home and unguarded, that is when they’ll strike. And as for their heirs, well, that’s not really a problem.”

Yoongi raised a brow. “Jung Hoseok’s wife is unable to bare a child, and he also doesn’t have any younger siblings to take over. So once he passes, rulership of his Kingdom immediately goes over to you. Same goes for my husband and Park Jimin.”

“I see,” Yoongi hums, biting inside of his cheek. “So what’s my job then?”

You smirk. “The only thing you have to do is have your succession speech ready, your Majesty.”

“But I have another problem,” Yoongi added. “Many people already disagree with our war with the South. How will we manage to persuade them that this is necessary? It’ll be difficult since three of the four leaders of the North are dead.”

“Trust me, your Majesty,” you spoke with such clarity and a smile on your face. “Everything is planned out and you don’t have to worry.”

Yoongi didn’t replay, eyes briefly glancing at the people that surrounded him. You must’ve noticed his still cautious state because next thing he knew you were signaling everybody out, telling them to “get some rest and prepare for your departure in the morning.”

“Why are you doing this exactly?” Yoongi asks the moment you two were alone in the room. “Because there is no damn way you’re doing this just for survival. I mean,” he suddenly chuckles, “you are giving complete control of the North. What is your angle here? Are you going to kill me after all this is so that you become Emperor?” Yoongi was starting to get frustrated. He has never had trouble understanding someone before until he met you. And now because of you, his mind was a complete mess.

“That’s not my intention at all, your Majesty,” smiling up at him, you placed your hand on his shoulder, smirking at the feeling of him tensing underneath your fingertips. “All I want is for the North, my home—your home to finally come out of its shadow that it has been forced to hide in for centuries.”

“And you think I’m the one that can do that?”

“Yes,” you nod, fingers dancing across his chest. “I’ve read records of previous Emperors and you’re the only that deserves that title. Unlike the other ones, you are resilient, intelligent, ruthless if necessary, and you even fight alongside your men which no other Emperor has done before.”

As each compliment came out of your mouth, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel himself starting to get hard underneath his lower robes, and you running your hands seductively over his chest definitely wasn’t helping.

“How should I repay you for your kindness then,” Yoongi found himself melting against your touch, his hands finding their way into your waist. “Because someone like you definitely deserves an reward for their loyalty.” Yoongi then turns you around in one quick motion, causing you to gasp at the sudden action and feeling his strong chest pressed up against your back and lips brushing against your ear.

A tiny moan escaped from your lips when feeling his hard length suddenly rub against your ass, you yourself starting to get hard as well. “Should I buy you plenty of jewelry, or maybe a large palace just for you?” Yoongi then pushed you up against the wall, smirking at the small gasp that came from you. “Or perhaps,” another moan came out of your mouth when one of his hands slipped underneath your robes and caressed the soft flesh of your behind, “make you wife?”

Yoongi chuckled when feeling shiver against him. “Yeah, you would like that, huh? Being my wife, an Empress, ruling right beside me?”

“Y-Yes, your Majesty,” you stuttered out, tilting your head back from the sensation, giving Yoongi the opportunity to lean down and leaving wet, tender kisses along your neck and bare shoulder, leaving dark bruises that’ll be near impossible to cover up tomorrow morning.

“Good,” Yoongi left another mark on your skin, dragging his finger across your ass, teasing your clenching hole with his fingertip. “Then how about we—secure our deal, then? And when you nodded, that was all Yoongi needed before turning you around to face him and crashing his lips down forcefully onto yours. The kiss was rough, yet tender and filled with lust. With your hands around his neck, Yoongi’s slid down to your thighs and hoisted you up into his arms, deepening the kiss with his lips moving in perfect sync against yours.

The kiss was like a drug that neither of you couldn’t get enough of.

“Please, your Majesty,” you whimpered against his lips, which made Yoongi want you even more than he already did. “Can you please h-hurry?”

Yoongi smirked against your lips, pulling away. “Don’t worry, my love, just be patient.”

It was quite ironic though, because Yoongi was everything but patient when it came to you. He couldn’t wait any longer. Instead of carrying you all the way to his chamber, he laid you on the closest flat surface which happened to be a table and tore your robes completely off of you, leaving you bare and them in ruins.

Yoongi decided to take his sweet time with you, dragging his lips across your ankles, up your legs to your meaty thighs. He then began to leave open mouth kisses over your abdomen and up your chest, teasing your nipples with his tongue and grazing the wet muscle over your collarbone. Yoongi continued his assault on your body until he reached back up your lips, capturing them this time into a soft, passionate kiss which you gladly returned without a second thought, hands sliding up to his shoulders and helping him strip from his own robes, revealing his pale and toned body.

Your mouth watered at the sight of him, eyeing his define muscles, the way his abs clenched as he climbed onto the table and hovered over you, and the way his biceps bulged as he held himself above you. “Y-Your Majesty—”

“Yoongi,” he cut you off, pulling away and moving his lips to your throat. “Call me, Yoongi, my love.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you tried out, heart warming in both of your chests once hearing his name come out of your mouth. It sounded right coming from you. “Please—”

“Don’t worry, my love,” Yoongi reassured you, moving his lips back up to yours. “I’m here, I’m here. Let me show you how it feels to be loved by a real man, yeah?”

The night was then soon filled with nothing but the sound your combined moans, skin slapping and the shared whispers of sweet words between one another.

This was the start of something new.

“T-Taehyung, faster, faster please!”

The sound of the woman’s moans and the bed’s headboard banging against the connecting wall to your room made your blood boil. Your hands clenched into fists and teeth biting angrily down onto your lips.

“Be patient, my love,” you could hear your husband say through the thin wall, making the rage that flowed through your veins grow more. “Let me cherish you, beautiful...”

“Your Highness,” the sound of a man’s voice tore you out of your thoughts, “I’ve done what you’ve asked me to do.”

“Everything’s prepared and ready?”

The guard nodded his head once you turned around, “yes, your Highness. The only people remaining in the palace are your loyal followers. Everyone else has been sent home.”

“Good,” only came out of your mouth before leaving your chambers with the guard following closely behind you. You walked over next door and didn’t bother knocking before barging right in, your husband and the girl instantly jumping to cover themselves with the thin bedsheets.

“What the fuck?!” Taehyung curses loudly, staring at you with wide eyes and wrapping his arms around the girl’s waist, pulling her close. “What are you doing here? I told already you that I’m staying here tonight.”

“I know,” you replied with not even a single ounce of emotion heard in your voice.

Taehyung’s eyes then shifted towards the guard that stood beside you. “What’s going on here?”

You didn’t say anything, only smiled, and that caused fear to form in the pit of Taehyung’s gut. With just the simple nod of your head, the guard walked over to the servant girl and snatched her by her hair, tearing her away from his grasp and yanking her off the bed and onto the ground.

“Stop—” Taehyung tried to reach for her but stopped when the guard pulled out a dagger and held the sharp blade against her neck, tears shining in her eyes. He then turned towards you, eyes glistening as well, “why are you doing this?”

“Change,” was all you said before nodding your head again, giving the guard the order to slide his blade across the girl’s throat, killing her instantly and letting her limp body collapse into the ground.

“N-No no,” Taehyung didn’t hesitate this time to jump out of the bed, despite being completely nude and taking her now lifeless body into his arms, blood staining the ground and his skin, and tears spilling uncontrollably from his eyes. “She was pregnant...”

“Oh well.”

Taehyung’s head shot up from your heartless comment, his teary eyes shining with a newfound rage. Before he had the chance to say anything the guard approached him from behind and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck. He immediately began clawing at his arms, trying to gasp for air that was becoming harder and harder to obtain, eyes bright red and nearly bulging out, tears slipping from them and sliding down his cheeks.

The last thing he saw before he took his last breath and eyes slowly closed was you standing in front of him with a sinister grin on your lips.

“Your Majesty.”

Yoongi glanced up from his book to see his personal advisor standing right in front of him by his library’s entrance. He hummed in reply, signaling for the young man to continue. We’ve gotten word from Lady Kim—” Yoongi glared at him, causing his advisor to pause and correct his words, “—I mean, ____’s agents that they have completed their duties.”

“They have?” Yoongi asked with a raised brow. He knew you were more than capable of doing this, but he thought something this major would take at least a week to accomplish. He didn’t expect to hear about any success a day later.

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded. “The Jung palace is flames at this moment and there is word that Jung Hoseok himself and his wife were in their chambers when the fire happened. And as for Park Jimin, he was found murdered in his bed with a dagger in his chest. Some say it was one of his concubines that done it.”

“What about Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi found himself asking, his mind instantly thinking of you. “Was ___ successful?”

“Yes, your Majesty he was,” his advisor answered. “I was informed about Kim Taehyung’s death by ___ himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. “Good.”

“Would you like to start writing your succession speech now, your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Yoongi answered. “We’ll have the succession conference next week, and make sure every minor clan leader comes so that they know who is in charge now.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded his head, and before leaving he turned back and said to him in a teasing tone, “oh, and someone is here to see you.”

Yoongi was about to ask him who it was, but he stopped himself when his eyes suddenly landed on you standing in his library’s entrance, his heart stopping in his chest at the sight of you. “H-Hey,” he stuttered out, cringing at the sound of himself. In all his years of living, nobody has ever had this type of power over him—but he wasn’t complaining either.

“Hello, your Majesty,” your reply sent tingles all over his body—and he loved it.

There was nothing but silence afterwards between you two because there wasn’t any need for words. The only thing you two needed to express the feelings you have for each other was your eyes—the passion, the lust, the want that shined in them.

This is just the beginning for you two.

would you guys like to see a drabble series of these two in the future maybe? emperor yoongi and his male wife.

TAGLIST:

@ben-c0c, @sombreboy, @theclawofsa, @joongtoons, @xavi-in-kpopland, @ephemeralkookie, @yoshiure, @illbeyournightmare, @sonderkook, @spaceisbigger, @catboygyu, @justqueerandhereforthetea, @xxminilah

#bonnyskies #bts #bts angst #bts one shot #bts x reader #bts x male reader #min yoongi #min yoongi angst #min yoongi one shot #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x male reader #yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi one shot #yoongi x reader #yoongi x male reader #bts imagines #min yoongi imagines #yoongi imagines

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evermoreholland · 4 years ago

Text

in harmony | tom holland

-> singer!reader x tom holland

-> summary: after a nasty break up, you go to london with your two best friends in hope to find inspiration for your upcoming album and a london boy soon became your muse.

-> word count: 5.7k

-> a/n: wow. this is probably my favorite fic of mine. i hope you all enjoy it as much as i do. big thank you to @rainbowrobin for hyping this fic up and being its biggest fan. also thank you to @cali-holland for beta reading this for me! your support means the world to me and you inspire me every day to keep writing. love you to bits <3

~~~

Breaking up with someone you used to care about was never easy. In fact, grieving and eventually getting over that person was the hardest thing to do. You were a singer so relationships that went public usually ended up terribly wrong. The good part about it is that you can write a hit song about the experience.

Breaking up with your past boyfriend was probably the worst experience for you thus far. You thought that he was the one, every move you made was for him and you ended up depending on him constantly. And he broke your heart. He played you like a fiddle and played with the strings of your heart. He cheated on you with someone you were insecure about the duration of your relationship with him, which made everything feel worse.

You decided that you needed a change of scenery in hopes to clear your head. You had been spending time in your Los Angeles apartment moping around, trying to get over your ex-boyfriend. You also had a deadline for your new album and you haven’t even started. Your album was due towards the end of the summer, and it was now spring.

You sat down on your sofa with a pen and notebook in your hand. You were determined to write something. You didn’t want to write songs about your breakup, but that was all you were thinking about. You saw your phone on the coffee table light up and buzz. It was your manager and agent, Cassandra. You picked up the phone nervously, knowing that she was going to ask about your progress or lack thereof.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hello, Y/N,” Cassandra greeted sweetly. “How’s the album coming along? We need to start recording soon.”

“Funny you ask.” You always tried to make fun out of an uncomfortable situation.

“Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, Cass! I have no idea what I should be writing about for this album.” It’s not like you didn’t want to write. You did, but you had no idea what to write about.

“Maybe you need a change of scenery, dear. You haven’t been out in months,” Cassandra suggested.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Where would you want to go? You can stay there for the rest of the spring and the beginning of the summer.”

You thought about it for a moment. You definitely wanted to leave the country. “How does London sound, Cass?”

“Sounds nice. I’ll book you, Natalie, and Sarah tickets for this weekend and I’ll rent the three of you an Airbnb for your stay,” Cassandra confirmed. Natalie was your personal assistant and your best friend. Sarah was your older sister who traveled with you everywhere and she helped you with many of your songs. She was good to bounce ideas off of. You had the perfect team.

“Perfect. Thank you.” You both said your goodbyes and hung up.

***

Tom got off the airplane and sighed in relief. He was finally home. After many months of filming on another continent, he was back in London. Tom was ready to finally sleep in his own bed and hang out with his brothers and friends once again.

Harry and Tom took an Uber back to Tom’s apartment. It was fairly late and all Tom wanted to do was sleep. In the Uber, Tom and Harry made light conversation.

“You want to go to the new pub by our flat this weekend? Haz and Tuwaine want to hang out,” Harry asked.

“Sure,” Tom mumbled. To be quite honest, Tom had absolutely no desire to go out at all this weekend, but he knew that his mates wanted to see him. He did want to see them too, so he agreed.

“Sounds good.”

***

You packed your suitcases for London at the last minute. In your defense, Cassandra only booked Thursday night’s tickets on Wednesday, so you didn’t have that much time in the first place. You were planning on using your time in London to relax and to create a healthy headspace to write your next album.

You called Natalie to ask her opinion on some of your outfit choices. “Nat, am I going for a casual look this trip? Like sweatpants and t-shirts?”

“Absolutely not, Y/N. Are you insane?!”

“It was just a question, Natalie.” You defended yourself. “What should I pack then?”

“I don’t know, just look hot. You need to get out of the post-breakup sweatpants phase.”

“Fine,” you grumbled. You grabbed some cute spring sundresses from your closet and threw them into your suitcase. You packed some jeans and blouses as well.

You hung up with Natalie and took a look at your bag. “Should be good.”

***

The flight to London from Los Angeles was long and exhausting. You arrived at Heathrow airport in the early afternoon on Friday. You immediately went to the house to rest up from jetlag. Once you woke up a few hours later, Sarah was pressuring you and Natalie to get dressed. “We’re going to the pub! Get up, ladies!”

“What? Why?” Natalie groaned. You and Natalie were laying on your beds in your shared room. Sarah jumped onto your bed and tackled you.

“Sarah, we’re exhausted,” you said. You pushed your sister off of you and sat up. “We can just go tomorrow.”

“It’s the pub’s grand opening! It’s supposed to be fire!”

“Fine,” you mumbled. You got up and began unpacking your suitcase. “But I refuse to wear heels.”

***

Harrison made his way to his best mate’s flat to pick him up for the Cheer Beers grand opening on Friday night. Harrison used his spare key to get into Tom’s place. “Tom,” Harrison called out. He made his way to Tom’s bedroom to make sure he was ready for the night.

“In my room!” Tom exclaimed. Tom sounded upset and agitated. Harrison entered his room anyway because he wanted to hang out with his best friend. He opened the door and noticed Tom laying his bed under the covers.

“Are you alright, mate?” Harrison asked. Harrison noticed Tom in his pajamas while in bed. “Why aren’t you ready to go? Harry already went out with Tuwaine to wait in line.”

“I want to hang out with you all, but I’m just so jetlagged, mate.”

Harrison took his phone out of his back pocket to check the time and noticed an Instagram notification from you. He opened it out of curiosity and it was a direct message. It said that you would be at Cheer Beers tonight with your friends and asked if he was going. Harrison and you had met at an award show a few months back and you became friends. “You know what I just found out, Tom?”

“What?”

“Y/N L/N is going to the grand opening tonight.”

“You’re lying just to get me out of bed!” Tom accused him. Tom didn’t want to admit it, but he fancied you. He has been following you on social media and listening to your music for a while now, so Harrison saying you were going to be at the pub caught his attention.

“I’m not.” Harrison showed Tom his phone with your direct message. “I had no idea she was in town, though.”

“No clue, either.”

“Now will you come?” Harrison asked. “I know you have a huge crush on her.”

Tom eyed him skeptically but then let out a sigh. “Fine, I’ll go.”

***

You waited in line outside of Cheer Beers with Sarah and Natalie. You were wearing a black sleeveless cocktail dress with black slip-on vans. You saw a few familiar faces approach you and you realized that it’s your friend Harrison and his mates. You recognized one of his friends to be Tom Holland.

“Hey, Haz!” You greeted. He pulled you into a hug and squeezed you tightly. You pulled away and said, “Following me, I see?”

“Very funny,” he replied. “We were coming to opening night anyway. We were planning this in honor of Tom’s return from filming.”

“Oh, that’s right,” you said and then turned to Tom. You put your hand out for him to shake. “I’m Y/N.”

He shook your hand and you felt his sweaty palm touch yours. You could assume that he was either unwell or nervous. “Tom. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.”

You introduced Natalie and Sarah to Harrison and he introduced the rest of his friends to the three of you.

“Would you like to share a table with us?” Harry, Tom’s younger brother, asked you.

“I’m sure that Y/N L/N would have much better opportunities than to sit with us, Harry,” Tom interjected.

“Actually, Tom, we would love to.” You all entered the pub and grabbed a table in the back room. Harrison sat between Sarah and Tuwaine. Harry sat by Natalie. You sat between Natalie and Tom, per Natalie’s whisper in your ear to go for it. You all got your first round of drinks.

“So what brings you to London?” Tom asked.

“Needed to clear my head,” you said and then ate the olives from your martini.

“So you flew halfway across the world?” Tom was amused and you could tell. He wasn’t trying to laugh at you particularly, he just thought it was funny that you chose London of all places.

“Shut up,” you teased. “We’re here for the summer. A vacation, or holiday, if you will.”

“Nice, nice.” You could feel the slight awkward tension between the two of you. You were basically strangers so it made sense. You decided to try and break it. “How was filming for the third Spider-Man film?”

Tom’s eyes lit up at your sudden interest in his work. “Can I tell you a funny story?”

***

Three hours passed by and you decided to call it a night. You talked with Tom the entire night. You enjoyed his company but you were also jetlagged. “Tom, I’m tired,” you said as you leaned on his shoulder.

“Me too.”

“Want to walk me home?” You asked.

“Would love to.” You both got up from the booth and Tom paid for your drinks, even though you protested. Harrison, Tuwaine, Harry, Sarah, and Natalie didn’t look like they were ready to leave any time soon so you said your goodbyes to them and left with Tom.

“How far are you away from here?” Tom asked you.

“About a ten minute walk.” You began walking in the cool London air.

“So, Harrison told me that you were writing for your new album. How’s that going?”

“Not well,” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s been fucking difficult.”

“I’m sorry, love.” The pet named warmed your heart and body even more. Tom wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. “I wish I can help you out somehow.”

“It’s alright. Getting out tonight helped me get into a good headspace,” you said.

“Glad to hear it.” You arrived at your Airbnb and Tom walked you to the front door. “I had a great time tonight, Y/N.”

You smiled, the first genuine smile that you’ve had in a while. “Me too, Tom.” You opened your door to enter.

“Wait.” Tom stopped you. “Let me get your number.”

“Sure.”

***

Two weeks had passed since you arrived in London and you and Tom have been texting back and forth. He had even taken you on a tour of London. He took you to all of the hot spots. Occasionally, Tom, Harrison, and Harry would come over to your Airbnb to hang out with you, Sarah, and Natalie. You were developing friendships with everyone, but you felt a bit stronger about Tom. He was charming, kind, and really funny. You enjoyed his company and you finally got the chance to start writing for your upcoming album. You realized that you didn’t want to write about your breakup with your ex, but instead write about your crush on the brown-haired London boy.

“How is the album coming along?” Cassandra asked you on the phone.

“Pretty good. I have a killer single coming your way and many other songs too.”

“Remember, we need to start recording at the end of July.”

“You got it.”

“You sound happy,” she commented. She was right. You were happy and finally completely over your ex. “It’s a good look on you.”

“Thanks.”

“What are you writing about?”

“Oh, you know… London, pubs, boys,” you trailed off.

***

Harrison was busy planning his upcoming date with your sister, Sarah. They hit it off extremely well at the opening of Cheer Beers. They got each other’s numbers and planned to go on a date. To be honest, Harrison was stressed out. He scored a date with Sarah L/N, which ultimately shocked him. So, he decided to go to his best mate for some advice.

Tom was sitting in his living room and Harrison entered with two dress shirts in hand. One of them was a white button-down and the other one navy. “Which shirt should I wear on my date with Sarah?”

“Black slacks, right?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, and a black leather jacket.”

“Go with white,” Tom suggested.

“Thanks, mate. Another question,” Harrison proposed. It felt natural for Harrison to ask Tom about his lady troubles, even though Tom had been single for a while.

Tom nodded his head to urge Harrison to continue.

“What if I fuck this up?” He asked nervously. “I really like Sarah.”

Tom got up from the couch to come closer to Harrison and put his hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine, mate. Just be yourself. She’ll fancy you, I promise.”

“How are you so good at giving me advice but you can’t get a girlfriend?”

Tom mocked being bothered. “Rude,” he scoffed.

“What are you waiting for?”

“If I say the perfect girl, will you slap me?” Tom joked.

“Yes, yes I will,” Harrison laughed as he replied. “I think that you already found the perfect girl at Cheer Beers.”

“We’re still getting to know each other. Why must we move so fast?” Tom wondered. He wanted to take things slow. His life had always moved fast and he wanted something to move at his pace, for once. Too many relationships have moved too fast and he ended up hurt.

“Because she’s only here for so long and I have a feeling that she likes you,” Harrison reasoned. Tom was starting to feel the same way about you too.

“Fine. While you go on your date with Sarah tonight, I’ll see if Y/N wants to hang out.” He picked up his phone from the coffee table and texted you asking if you wanted to come over. You replied saying yes and he smiled. “We’re hanging out.”

“Great. Don’t forget to use protection,” Harrison said as he ran away to go get dressed for his date.

“Fuck off, you div!”

***

Tom went to the grocery store to pick up some snacks and beers before you came over to his flat. He tidied up the living room once he got home and made sure to fluff the pillow to make them look nicer. Even though you and Tom were only friends, he couldn’t help but make sure that everything looked perfect for you.

You arrived 30 minutes later. You wore sweatpants and a sweatshirt, along with your slides. Your hair was out of your face and Tom thought that you looked stunning. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Tom blushed. “Nice sweatshirt.” Your sweatshirt was light blue and it had butterflies on it. Tom realized that he loved that color on you.

He led you to the couch and he sat beside you. “So what did you do today?” You asked.

“I worked on a script that I’m writing and then I helped Harrison get ready for his date with your sister. What about you, love?” The pet name made your heart flutter. Tom was definitely charming.

“I worked on some songs for the album,” you answered proudly.

“Care to share?”

“Willing to share what the script’s about?” You asked back, already knowing the answer.

“I’m legally not allowed to share, so no. I’m sorry, darling.”

“Then my answer is the same.”

“Well played, pretty girl,” he flirted. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure, what do you have in mind?”

“Avengers: Age of Ultron?”

“Yes, it’s one of my favorite Marvel movies!” You exclaimed. “I have a feeling that you knew that already.”

Tom smiled at you as he picked up the remote from the coffee table and turned on the television. “I may have, but only because Haz told me. Don’t worry, though. It’s one of my favorites too.”

Tom found the movie and before he hit play he got up from the couch. “May I offer you some popcorn before we start the movie? I have beer as well.”

“Yes to both, please.” Tom went to the kitchen to pop the popcorn and grab some beers. He came back around five minutes later with everything.

“Here you go,” he said as he handed you a bottle of beer. “I know it’s not a martini.”

“It’ll have to do,” you teased. You pat the seat beside you to urge Tom over. “Now, come sit.”

Tom pressed play and the Marvel introduction appeared on the screen. You moved closer to Tom and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, just like he did that night at the pub. “Is this ok?” He asked.

“It’s perfect.”

Around an hour into the movie, the popcorn was finished along with your first bottle of beer. Tom’s hand was still resting on your shoulder but now your head was resting on his. “Y/N?” Tom called out.

“Yeah?” You asked as you moved your head away from him so you could look at him.

“Can I be honest with you about something?” You nodded so he would continue. “I really want to kiss you.”

“Can I be honest with you?” You asked while smiling.

“Yeah.”

“I really want you to kiss me,” you said as you leaned in. He pressed his lips against yours in a soft first kiss. You kissed back almost immediately. After a couple of seconds, you pulled away from him.

“Wow,” he said.

“Ditto,” you said and then pulled him back towards you. You kissed him again and you knew that from now on, you couldn’t get enough of him.

***

Tom and you didn’t finish the movie the other night. After your many makeout sessions with him, you decided to go home, and you promised him that the two of you would get together again soon. You went home with the biggest smile on your face. Since your kiss, you and Tom have not talked about the status of your relationship. As of right now, you were just friends who have kissed before. No biggie.

It was now the 28th of May and you were sitting on a park bench having coffee with Harrison. It would be Tom’s 25th birthday in four days and the two of you were attempting to plan the perfect party for him.

“You’ll get the decorations, Sam will cook a few dishes, and I’ll provide booze,” Harrison said, listing things off. “We’ll host it at my new flat and I already called everyone.”

“Sounds great, Haz. I just hope he has a great time.”

“I’m sure he will,” he said as he winked at you, indicating something.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked, referring to his wink.

“I know that something happened between the two of you last week. Tom hasn’t stopped smiling since the two of you started hanging out. I’m sure he’ll be happy to know that you planned a party for him.”

“We all are planning it,” you corrected him.

“Yeah, but it’s not like he fancies me,” Harrison laughed.

You rolled your eyes at the blonde-haired boy in front of you. “Whatever.” You got up from the park bench and began walking towards his car. “Come on, Harrison. We need to go to the market.”

***

It was the 1st of June; Tom’s birthday. You woke up early to make sure that everything was ready to go for the party tonight. Harrison and Tom’s brothers planned a golf trip with Tom while you set up Harrison’s flat. You brought Sarah and Natalie along with you to help.

“Move that banner a little more to the right,” you told Sarah. She moved it as you requested. The banner said, Happy 25th birthday, Tom! in light blue glitter. “Looks great. Thanks, sis.”

You blew up balloons, set up tables for the food and drinks, got streamers and ribbons, and finally assembled the cupcake tower with the cupcakes you and Natalie baked the night before.

“Red velvet. Nice choice,” Sarah said as she took a look at the cupcakes on display.

“They’re Tom’s favorite,” you pointed out.

“Seems like you know a lot about him.”

“Well, he is my friend.”

Natalie laughed at your response to your sister’s comment. “Is that all he is?” She asked.

“For now.” You pulled out your phone from your pocket to check the time. It was the early afternoon and the party would start in a few hours. “We better get going to get ready. Sam will bring the food and set it up within the hour.”

Before you got into the car, you texted Tom to wish him a happy birthday and he responded with a heart emoji. You smiled to yourself and then got into the car to drive to your Airbnb.

The three of you washed up and got dressed for Tom’s party. You decided on wearing a light blue sundress with daisies on it. You matched it with white wedges and you did your hair to your liking. Once you were all ready you drove to Harrison’s. When you got there, Harrison, Sam, Tuwaine, and a few other friends of Tom’s were already there.

“Harry is bringing Tom in around 15 minutes,” Harrison told you.

“Ok. Everything seems to be going pretty smoothly.”

“We make a pretty great team,” Harrison said in appreciation for all of the work to make Tom’s party happen.

“Tell that to Sarah over there,” you teased him. His date with your sister went well from what she told you, but because of Harrison’s nervousness, they haven’t talked much since. “She’s been dying to hang out with you.”

“Are you just saying that so you can have Tom all to yourself when he gets here?” He tried to joke.

“No,” you said seriously. “Go talk to her, Haz.” You pushed him lightly in her direction to encourage him to go talk to her.

“I see Harry’s car pulling up!” Sam said a few minutes later. “Everyone get ready.”

Harry used Harrison’s spare key to get into his flat and once both of them entered you all yelled, “Surprise!”

“Thanks, guys!” Tom said in shock. Tom made his rounds to greet everyone to say thank you. You waited patiently in the kitchen for the birthday boy. He finally approached you after a few minutes. “Hey, love.”

“Happy birthday,” you said as you pulled him in for a hug. “You look very handsome.”

He pulled away to look at you. “Thank you, but you’re absolutely stunning.”

You leaned in to kiss his cheek and then said, “Thanks, Tom.”

“I should be thanking you,” he said and then grabbed your hands to intertwine your fingers together.

“For what?”

“Harrison told me that you helped him plan all of this, so thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you said genuinely. “You like it?”

“I love it. He looked over to the counter and saw the cupcakes. “Is that a cupcake tower?”

“A red velvet cupcake tower,” you confirmed. “I baked them.”

“You’re a goddess.” He kissed your lips for half a second and then grabbed a cupcake from one of the tiers. He unwrapped the cupcake and then took a bite. He hummed in delight.

“I’m taking that you like them,” you giggled at the man in front of you. He could seriously make anything look cute.

“They’re heaven,” he moaned. Tom dipped his finger in the frosting and swiped your nose with it. You looked at him in shock. “Aw, you look so adorable,” he said.

You laughed at his antics. “Glad you think so, babe.”

Tom’s lit up at the pet name. “Babe? Hmmm.”

“Yeah, babe.” You took some frosting from what was remaining of his cupcake and placed some on his nose to match you. “You look very cute with frosting on your nose, babe.”

Tom grabbed a napkin from the counter and cleaned the frosting off the both of you. “We’re both very cute.”

“Ok, lovebirds,” Sam called out for the two of you. “Let’s get this party started!”

“Before we go out there, I have something to ask you,” Tom said.

“And what may that be?”

“Will you go out on a date with me?” He asked nervously. You felt your heart skip a beat and you could’ve sworn that you felt Tom’s heart beating rapidly from how close you were standing to him.

“I would love to, Tom,” you said and then kissed him to confirm that you really wanted to.

***

The rest of the night went well and Tom enjoyed his time with his friends. You, Sarah, and Natalie crashed at Harrison’s place along with Tom and Harry. The party ended late and the five of you were too tired to drive home, so Harrison offered to let you all stay there.

You woke up early and made your way downstairs to heat the kettle for tea. As you were waiting, you heard footsteps, and soon enough a pair of arms wrapped around you. “Good morning, beautiful,” Tom said and then kissed your clothed shoulder.

“Morning.” You turned around so you could face him. “How did you sleep?”

“Not so well,” Tom said as he stretched out his arms. “Harrison’s a kicker.”

“Poor baby,” you teased, and then Tom pouted. “Quit pouting, Tommy. I know you’re faking it.”

“Fine,” Tom mumbled.

You turned to the stove and saw that the kettle was ready. “Want tea?”

“Please. A splash of milk and a spoonful of sugar, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” you said as you poured him a cup. “So where are we going on our first date?”

“That’s a surprise, darling.”

***

A week after Tom’s birthday, Tom texted you asking if you were available to go on your first date. You had been working on the album the entire morning so you thought it’d be nice to go out with Tom. You replied yes and he told you to be ready within the hour. Tom knocked on your door around an hour later, with a bouquet in his hand. “These are for you, love,” he said with a smile as he handed them to you.

“Thank you, Tom,” you said and then sniffed the flowers. “Come in while I put these in some water.” Tom entered your Airbnb and you searched for a vase in one of the cabinets. Once you found one, you filled it up with water and put the flowers in. “We should be good to go now.”

Tom held your hand as he led you to the car. He opened the door for you and then got in and started the car. “You ready?”

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“You’ll see in around 15 minutes, angel.” Tom grabbed your hand that was resting in your lap and brought it up to his lips to kiss it. “I don’t think I told you this, but you look ethereal.”

“You’re quite the charmer, Holland.”

“I aim to please,” he joked. “But in all seriousness, you always look gorgeous.”

Tom was by far the kindest man you have ever met in your entire life. You have known him for barely two months but he made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. You had never felt this way about anyone before.

Tom drove down to a lake. “It’s one of my secret spots,” he told you.

He led you down to the grass near the water and he set up a picnic there for the two of you. “I made sandwiches, cut up some fruit, and some apple cider.”

“It looks good. Thank you, Tom.” He pulled everything out from the picnic basket and handed you one of the sandwiches.

“Anything for you.”

“So this is one of your secret spots, huh?” You asked.

“Mhm,” he mumbled as he took a bite from his sandwich.

“So you bring a lot of girls here?” You teased and you could’ve sworn that you saw Tom almost choke on his sandwich. “Is that why it's so special?”

“Very funny, love,” Tom said. “No, I actually come here alone.”

“I’m guessing because it’s quiet.”

“Yeah, I come here when I need to clear my head.”

You looked around the area and you immediately understood why Tom liked it so much. There was a beautiful, cool breeze and the birds chirping sounded like music to your ears. “It’s beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“I can drive you here to write songs if you’d like,” Tom offered.

“That would be lovely.”

You and Tom spent a couple of hours at the lake. You talked about anything and everything, and you finally felt yourself get closer to him. You felt him opening up to you too, which you felt good about.

“Would you like to go on a drive with me?” Tom asked once you both packed up the remainder of the picnic.

“Will there be music involved?”

“What would be a nice evening drive without music? C’mon, let’s go.” Tom led you to his car and you began your drive. The sun was setting and it was beautiful. “It’s wonderful outside, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” you said.

“I had a great time with you, Y/N.”

“Me too.”

*** Once Tom dropped you off, you began writing another song. His date left you inspired and you were starting to like him more and more. Each time you saw him your feelings for him grew. He inspired you to write your song, London Boy.

Tom wanted a second date. He felt so good leaving the first one and knew that he wanted to pursue a relationship with you. He knew that it would be hard but relationships won’t always be easy. He decided to call you the next to ask when he could see you again.

“Tom, we just went out,” you teased.

“I know, Y/N, but I like you. A lot.” You thought that it was cute how Tom was eager for a second date. You were excited too.

“I like you, too. I would love to see you again, too,” you said.

“Coffee? I don’t drink it but I know how much you like it,” Tom offered.

“How about tea? Know any good spots for a cup of tea and maybe breakfast?”

“I know just the place. See you soon, Y/N.”

***

Many amazing dates with Tom and a bunch of fun days in London later and you know that you’re ready to start recording your next album. People had their assumptions about you and Tom. Rumors had gone around but Tom and you didn’t address them.

London inspired so much of your album that you decided to record there. The rest of your team flew out and you began recording.

You called Tom asking him to come to the studio. “I’m recording one of my favorite songs today. I would love for you to come if you’re free.” You were recording London Boy today and you wanted Tom to hear it since he hadn’t before. It would also be a good way to officially tell Tom that you’re falling in love with him.

“I would love to come. Send me the address.”

“You got it. See you in 20.”

You sent Tom the address of the studio and he was there within 15 minutes. You greeted him at the front. “Hey, babe.”

He kissed you on the cheek and then asked, “Are you excited for today?”

“Very. I’m excited for you to hear the song,” you said as you led him into the studio. You introduced him to Cassandra and the rest of your team.

“Y/N, get your pretty ass in the booth,” Cassandra said. You walked into the recording booth and put on your headphones. “Let’s do this.”

“Tom, sit up in front,” you said and then he took a seat beside Cassandra. “This one is called London Boy.”

The upbeat music came on and you knew that you were skipping the intro for now so you went in with the first verse.

I love my hometown as much as Motown, I love SoCal And you know I love Springsteen, faded blue jeans, Tennessee whiskey But something happened, I heard him laughing I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent They say home is where the heart is But that's not where mine lives

You heard Cassandra tell you to stop so they could play it back. You saw Tom smiling at you as you were singing and you took that as a good sign that he was enjoying it.

“Now for the chorus.”

You know I love a London boy I enjoy walking Camden Market in the afternoon He likes my American smile, like a child when our eyes meet Darling, I fancy you Took me back to Highgate, met all of his best mates So I guess all the rumors are true You know I love a London boy Boy, I fancy you (Ooh)

You ended up finishing the recording of the song in an hour. You left the booth for your break and you first greeted Tom. “What did you think of it?”

“I love you, too,” he said. You leaned up to him and kissed him with every fiber of your being.

“That’s good because many of these songs are about you.”

“And I can’t wait to hear them all,�� he said and then smiled.

“I can’t believe how I’ve only been here for three months and I already feel this way,” you said honestly. You have never fallen so fast for anyone, but it feels right with Tom. Everything feels right with him.

“Well, believe it because it’s real,” Tom confirmed. “Be mine, Y/N?”

“I thought you’d never ask, lover.”

~~~

leave feedback!

tagging: @tomsbabymomma @canwekissforever-hazzy @pinklxmonade @tomsbrina @storybookholland

#this is scheduled so i hope it shows up in the tags #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfic

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genshin-impacted · 4 years ago

Text

empress of the first water // Zhongli x Reader (1)

Word Count: ~2.2k

Palace/Harem Imperial Drama AU: You are a princess, soon-to-be-Empress, and Zhongli is the teacher invited by the royal court to show you the ropes before you ascend to the throne after a royal tragedy.

Notes: female!reader, eventual mutual pining, fake political maneuvers, mentions of death (yes, this is a set up to a harem drama, but Zhongli is focused in this), Zhongli POV

[Next]

hello welcome to the AU I made up; hope I finish this someday :)

“You are unfit to lead this country.”

Not two weeks after a tragedy that hits the royal family, leaving you the sole heir to the throne, that is what has been said to you over and over again. The royal court adjourns without delay, placing you in the middle of it-- though you could care less.

You hold whatever you have been able to salvage from the fire: a necklace momento from your father, the dress that your mother had woven herself. And in your hands, you hold in an urn the ashes of what remains of your family.

There is nothing else on your mind except for the fact that you are alone as the lone heir to the throne, the only living princess of the royal bloodline, and soon-to-be Empress of a nation that you are not prepared to lead.

You just want to mourn.

Zhongli has lived long enough to understand that politics will always be the determining factor in which his life will be led. It does not matter what he dreams of doing or what he desires. As the only born son to one of the oldest and most prestigious families in the nation, his life has never been his own-- though he supposed no one born of royalty has ever been truly in control of their path.

Still, Zhongli finds ways to play what cards he has. He earns praises for his wide array of knowledge in tradition, politics, and culture alike, but it is easy to know something if you are interested in it. He remembers vividly when Guizhong teased him, calling him an old soul when he delved personally into the traditions of tea ceremony, of calligraphy and poetry, out of his own volition because he enjoyed learning. His skills in the polearm-- also passed down in his lineage-- have also not been neglected, for he finds that it is similar to dancing, an elegant and respectful pastime that he often admires in operas and shows that he indulges himself in. If he could do anything with his life, Zhongli thinks he would be a writer or a teacher, or possibly even a historian.

("Old man," Guizhong had said to him affectionately for the last time before she left the compound to serve her duty as a princess, like many others. "One day you'll find yourself someone who listens to you and you'll talk their ear off."

"I doubt anyone would listen to what I have to say willingly," he had said, and his friend had only given him a soft look and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I don't," she said.)

It has been years since he has entertained the idea of living a quiet life writing his knowledge onto paper and even longer still since had long last seen his childhood friend. Zhongli finds himself in the fray of politics that he knows so much of and has no choice but to delve into when he is invited to the royal capital.

"It is a great honor," his father had said to him, hands behind his back, "to be meeting the Princess of the royal family. Make a good impression; this is of the utmost importance."

Political maneuver, Zhongli thinks immediately, not doubting the intention of an invitation coming from the palace, especially after the incident he has been told of. A fire of great destruction, the burning of a whole wing with the royal family trapped inside-- one would think it was a plot to overthrow the Emperor, but if anyone were to stage a coup, they would have burned the inner walls of the palace where the man resides, bedridden. A great coincidence to have the royal family unable to escape, but it almost seems too malicious to call it that. Gross neglect? Bad luck? Karma? Truly, a tragedy as the death of many could not be described worse than as an accident.

Zhongli thinks it is much too early to be moving the chess pieces so soon after half the board has been razed to the ground, but he supposed the world has never been that kind.

With a trained expression, Zhongli picks up the tea that had been brewed and takes a sip (too bitter, stepped too long, he thinks, wincing slightly, and putting the cup down). "I understand, father." He pauses for a moment and considers his words. "Is there a particular reason for this invitation?"

"The Princess is in need of education due to her lack of preparation as an heir," he says, "though I also hear she is in need of a husband as well."

The tea leaves in the cup trembles for a moment before sinking. "Father?"

"This is an opportunity of a lifetime, son."

And Zhongli thinks about his role, his abandoned journal, and books yet to be read and nods. "I understand," he says, wondering why, even though he expects where his life has been leading, he feels disappointed by the outcome anyway. "I will bring honor to our family."

"I expect nothing less," is what is said to him, and Zhongli swallows the bitterness of the tea down.

When Zhongli arrives at the palace, he is welcomed with all the excitement that is to be expected from the arrival of a son whose family holds prestige. Maids of many numbers cater to his every whim, and the few court officials who seem to favor him welcome him to the royal palace, which is broad and grand just as history would describe them.

Briefly, he wonders if it is professionalism or greed that maintains the palace’s daily businesses after an evident tragedy.

"I would like to extend my greetings and gratitude to the princess for allowing me in her castle," Zhongli says carefully, his voice even and words like silk-- just as he was taught as an educated man-- and watches in confusion as the nobleman who had barely kept his pleasure at his presence suddenly deflate.

"Ah, yes, of course, you would like to see the Princess," he says, a nervous lilt to his voice. "But I'm afraid she is preoccupied with another commitment at the moment. My apologies."

Invitation from the Princess, he remembers reading from the telegram, thinking it strange that someone would invite someone without intentions of welcoming them. It's easy to come to the conclusion that the Princess had not sent the message-- and the thought that she may not even know of his arrival also comes following after. Instead of speaking, Zhongli nods, much to the noble's relief as he continues to parade and provide him the tour that he has not asked for but appreciates nevertheless.

His room is two halls down the main chambers where you live. If the location and proximity to royalty were not enough, the room itself was also vast and much too big for one person, but he supposes luxury and decadence can be shown in empty space as well as it can with beautiful trinkets and trophies. Zhongli has always admired such things, as he does with the ornate statue sitting on top of his vanity and wonders when, if he ever does, he will be able to explore the castle in between whatever responsibilities the court deems him in need for.

"Maid," Zhongli says gently, but the young maid startles anyway when he addresses her.

"Yes, sir?"

"Would I be allowed to stroll the gardens of the west side of the palace?" He says, "The moon is to be full tonight and I wish to view it."

She flushes, for reasons that Zhongli knows not for. "I-I believe so. The guards should be patrolling at the moment, but you are a recognized guest of the palace, so all should be well."

When Zhongli steps out onto the carefully maintained rock garden, he spots a few men walking down and up the inner walls of the castle. He briefly thinks about the number of them but thinks no further, for now. Instead, he thinks the moon is best viewed when its reflection is in the water, clouds are nowhere in sight, and all is quiet. He comes close to the perimeter of the garden inner castle, expecting to see no one.

Zhongli steps into the moonlight and watches as you sit onto the grass and lean your head against the lone lantern post.

Perhaps you are here to moon-gaze as well, he thinks and goes to alert you with his presence by clearing his throat. He doesn't know why his earnest attempts to be unalarming go unwell, but he startles you into turning around.

Zhongli does not know what the Princess looks like, nor has he had anyone describe you to him. But Zhongli knows who you are if not solely from the emblem you carry on your headpiece and the way you hold a funeral urn in your lap like it is the only thing tethering you. As such, he expects the caustic demands of his name and stature, as expected of a Princess, but he is surprised to find that you look at him instead like a deer in headlights, arms tense around the urn.

"My apologies for startling you, my lady," Zhongli begins, "that was not my intention."

"Oh, no, it's okay," you stammer, and he has to blink for a moment at the manner in which you speak. "I should have probably noticed you coming. I was distracted."

Princesses and princes of the royal family are taught three things from birth: power, manners, and tradition. Nothing says more about your status than the way you hold yourself and the way you speak, especially if you are of royalty, and so every word that one must speak seems carefully crafted and intricately woven with elegance. A tad bit obnoxious, if anyone could say, but it is a mark of the elite, regardless of the former.

But you, who hold possibly one, if not the most, powerful title in the country, speak casually and without bothering with a mask of neutrality, as though you are unused to the burdens of sovereignty.

Your eyes are gentle, almost excessively so, and the way you hold yourself as though you want to be unnoticed are both strange but corroborating evidence of your peculiarities of a noblewoman. Though Zhongli has yet to understand why this is so, the instructions his father listed and his role in the castle has become clearer.

Zhongli has many questions, too many to ask about to a person who has no idea who he is.

Decorum takes him before his curiosity overwhelms him, and he lowers his head in deep respect. "My name is Zhongli, Princess. Thank you for allowing me to stay as a guest within the palace.”

"Oh," he hears you breathe out, "you're the one that came today." You turn your head toward the koi pond that beautifully reflects the moon. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to greet you," you say mechanically, trained.

"No, that's quite alright," Zhongli says mildly, glancing down at the urn still in your hands. "I'm sure greeting a stranger would be the least of your concerns at the moment."

At this, you smile at him. It is not a happy smile, but rather a pained one that strains your lips and pinches your eyes. Zhongli thinks back on his first lesson to maintain his expression, to keep composure, and almost marvels at the emotions clear on your face for him to see.

(He thinks this may make your life harder for you, to wear your heart on your sleeves. But he finds himself selfishly wanting you to stay as you are.)

"I've been told one week is all I should be given to mourn, as typical of a funeral ceremony. My parents' ashes should be released but…" You glance up at the night sky dim with stars. "I know in my heart this is not the place for them."

"Then what is the place?" Zhongli echoes and holds his breath when the smile you give him is gentle beyond measure.

"Some place where the wind blows," you say, "where the earth is clean and the ocean is near. That way, my parents can choose freely where to find rest." You laugh. "That must be a pretty tall order, isn't it?"

"You are a Princess," Zhongli finds himself saying, and you turn back to him. "I believe you are allowed to demand only the very best, for yourself and your loved ones."

"I believe," he continues, when he sees your eyes mist over, "that I am here to tutor you in the ways the court deems fit. I have been praised to have a wealth of knowledge and the privilege of history in my family as well as the power of my lineage; I will guide you as best as you need me to." He pauses. "And… if you require a geographical lesson on the highest peaks, the widest oceans, and the most open plains, for reasons beyond academic, I will be available to you."

Zhongli returns to his room (two halls away, he reminds himself, from you), and it is only then he realizes that he has not looked at the moon at all. Not directly, he thinks, but he supposes he did see a glimpse of it, as it stands behind you as a backdrop to frame the smile you gave him that was as bright as starlight.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #genshin imagines #genshin au #imperial drama au

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write-r-die · 4 years ago

Text

Prisoner - Part 13

February, 1067

Henry Cavill is a respected Norman baron who has been tasked with finding Lady Thomasin, an ill-tempered Saxon noblewoman, and returning her to London so the king can marry her off to a cruel Norman invader. The two grow close during the long journey, and Henry puts his own life in danger (more than once) to protect the woman he loves.

Masterlist

Thomasin was horribly ill in the morning due to the combination of her courses, sleeplessness, and anxiety. Etheldreda summoned Elaine without needing to be asked.

“Are you often like this in the early days of your time?” Etheldreda asked when she was sure Thomasin was, for the moment, finished vomiting in a bucket.

“Not often, thank God,” Thomasin croaked.

There was a knock at the door. A moment later, a very small Elaine came rushing in.

“Mercia is with me,” Elaine said, following after her miniature. “I hope you don’t mind.”

The little girl looked very much like her mother. Her curly blonde hair was light but still a shade or two darker than Elaine’s straight, pale tresses.

Thomasin did mind but she wasn’t in a place to object.

Elaine removed her satchel and unpacked its contents: around a dozen small jars filled with herbs and flowers. She set a small cauldron of water over the hearth to heat while she muddled peppermint, ginger, and herbs Thomasin did not recognize into a goblet.

The child parked herself beside Thomasin’s bed. “This my doll,” the child said proudly. “Her name Batty.”

“She’s very pretty,” Thomasin said. “Did your mother make her for you?”

“No. It’s present.”

“A gesture of good will from the queen,” Elaine said from the hearth. “It used to belong to one of her daughters.”

“I make her dress. See?” She shoved the poppet straight into Thomasin’s face so she could get a good look at its wrapping.

“Very pretty,” Thomasin said, carefully pushing it away. It had an odd smell to it. Lavender, Thomasin thought, and perhaps milfoil.

Elaine finished ladling hot water into the goblet of herbs and brought it to Thomasin. “You must wait a little before drinking this.”

“How long?”

“Until the water turns brown.”

Thomasin frowned. “Lovely.”

“You sick?” The child climbed onto the bed beside Thomasin. Thank God Etheldreda had already changed the bedding.

“A little.”

Mercia leaned forward like she was sharing a secret. “Is it lady sickness?”

“Mercia,” Elaine called. “Stop bothering Lady Thomasin. She has to drink her potion and prepare for the day.” She gestured at Thomasin to start drinking.

The hot, murky water smelled and tasted considerably better than Thomasin had anticipated, but she would never admit that. She made a face as she drained the cup.

Mercia took the liberty of scooching closer to Thomasin and crossed her little legs. “You got castle?” Mercia asked.

Thomasin looked to Elaine, silently willing the woman to shut her daughter up, but she was back to meddling with her herbs by the fire. “Not anymore.”

“I not have castle,” Mercia said comfortingly. “You have horses?”

“My family had some, yes.” She was without a horse of her own since her mare’s death the year before.

“Not anymore?”

“Not anymore,” Thomasin confirmed.

“I not have horse. You got –”

“Etheldreda, I think perhaps I might bathe. Could you send for a tub? The hot water unknots my muscles.” Thomasin was planning a veritable monologue – as long as she was talking, the child was not – but Mercia had already lost interest in Thomasin.

She crouched beside her mother by the fireplace and plucked dried leaves and flowers from Elaine’s many jars which she then ate.

“A note, milady,” Etheldreda said. She handed the paper over to Thomasin. Thomasin tore it open, expecting something from Henry. It was not. “Are you still ill, Lady Thomasin?” Etheldreda asked.

“It’s from Lawrence,” Thomasin said. All three women fell silent; Mercia tugged at her mother’s hand in a soundless demand for protection and an explanation. “Perhaps I am still unwell.” Thomasin settled back into the pillows.

“What does it say?” Elaine asked.

“He would like to walk with me in the gardens.”

“In Heaven’s name, why?” asked Etheldreda.

“I’m supposed to marry him.”

Mercia wasn’t totally sure what was happening, but the toddler knew how to distract everyone from their problems. Something she heard from Henry and Simon when she caught them by surprise once.

“Goddamn it!”

Thomasin shouldn’t be surprised that Lawrence expected to spend time with her, since they were, after all, engaged.

She supposed she should be pleased in some way. Or that she would be pleased if she were really going to marry him. He was handsome – or would be, if he weren’t directly compared to Henry. He was long-limbed and slim, a combination which made him look foxlike and sly. He was about Henry’s age, which put him somewhere in his early thirties, at least ten years older than Thomasin if not more.

It was a small age gap by most standards; most women wed by sixteen to men at least twice their age, often far more. Justina’s husband was nineteen or twenty years her senior.

As for Lawrence’s personality . . .

Thomasin originally imagined Lawrence to be the sort of man who took joy in chaos and death. Instead, he was reportedly the sort not to find joy in anything at all. According to Elaine, he wasn’t the angry type either. Indeed, he seemed rather disinterested in general.

The snow had started to melt, so Lawrence suggested a walk through the garden. They had no chaperone, but there were at least a dozen others walking along the paths. Etheldreda had altered Thomasin’s borrowed clothes so thankfully she didn’t get mud on the hem of her skirts.

The conversation was bland, to say the least, until Thomasin grew tired of being polite.

“I’ve heard the stories about you,” Thomasin finally said. “How you killed that baron’s wife and daughters. How you let your men rape the servants.”

Lawrence took a deep breath and shut his eyes, summoning his every ounce of patience. “My lady, that is what soldiers do in war. The reason most of these men came from Normandy in the first place was to enjoy the spoils of war. More often than not, those spoils are women.” He took another deep breath and went on walking. “I tell you truthfully, I’ve never had a girl against her will. That’s more than I can say for most of these other barons.”

“Indeed,” Thomasin said again.

“Does it surprise you to hear that most of the men here at court have raped defeated women?”

“No.” Thomasin wasn’t a fool, but she didn’t like thinking about that sort of thing. “But not all of them. Henry and his brothers haven’t. Roger hasn’t.”

Lawrence snorted. “Roger’s perversion sways him from women to men, and the Cavills are an anomaly.”

Thomasin had no idea what the first part meant but she agreed with the second.

“Henry cares for you deeply,” he said after a moment, tone perfectly conversational. “Tis a pity, that. His family are the most honorable men in Normandy if not the world, but I fear he’s a fool.”

“Why are we speaking of Henry?”

Lawrence stopped walking and raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

Thomasin straightened up. “All right. What’s your point, then?”

“I’m sure the two of you will cook up some plot to overthrow me so that Henry can take my place as your intended. Frankly, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Thomasin made a face which she couldn’t hide. “Then why not just release me and let me marry him?” Her words dripped with judgment at his stupidity

“The king gave you to me, not him. He would be insulted if I gave you up for no reason. Besides, you are the sort that I want.”

“The sort,” she repeated.

“You are beautiful, self-possessed, intelligent, strong. And you speak your mind, which i think saves a great deal of time.” He shrugged. “It’s a sound match.”

Had he just complimented her? The words were kind but his tone was so detached it felt more like an insult.

Thomasin had the thought that maybe she should hold her tongue. Maybe she shouldn’t say what she wanted to. But she did “How sound was your last match?”

His ears went so red that Thomasin thought they might burst.

“There you are!” Elaine said, feigning relief. She conveniently appeared from a bend in the garden path. “I was looking for you.” She folded Thomasin’s arm into her own. “We must get you back to bed or I fear your promenade will be spoiled with sick. Do you mind terribly, Baron, if I take Lady Thomasin back to her chambers for some much-needed rest?”

“By all means,” he said - in a similarly sarcastic tone to the one Thomasin often used. “I’m due to visit your Saxon brethren in their dungeon anyway. I’ll be sure to give them your best.” He smiled and bowed. “Ladies.”

The women curtseyed and muttered farewells.

“Did you hear him?” Thomasin hissed when he was out of earshot. “He mentioned the Saxons.”

“I heard him,” Elaine said tersely.

“Shouldn’t they have been executed by now?” asked Thomasin.

“One of the men told me that William is reluctant. They’re fine warriors, supposedly. The king would rather have their loyalty than their heads.”

Thomasin sighed. “Little chance of that.”

Henry was among the best warriors under William’s command. He was without a doubt a finer warrior than Lawrence, but he was still vulnerable because he adhered to a code of honor that Lawrence did not. Lawrence’s ruthlessness and detachment made him highly effective, though, and Henry would not make the mistake of underestimating him.

There was a large stone courtyard between the castle itself and the wall William was building around it to make it into another bailey. Henry joined Roger, Charlie, and most of their men to train. Knights were expected to keep their skills sharp and were therefore expected to practice their skills, so it wasn’t strange for him to be there. No one suspected he was training for a duel, or if they did, they were quiet about it.

Henry was barely out of the castle before a little voice called his name,

“Henry!”

He turned around just in time to see Mercia, Elaine’s daughter, crash into his solid legs. He barely had time to maneuver so that she wouldn’t run smack into his scabbard.

“Ah, Mercia!” he said brightly, hoisting the girl into his arms. “You must be careful running. You could’ve gone straight into my sword and be chopped in half!”

“I careful,” she said. “I not cut in half. See?” She opened her arms as if to show him she was whole.

“And what about Batty?” Henry asked, nodding to the doll in her hand. “Is she as careful as you are?”

“Batty not a person, Henry. She not need be careful.”

“Ah, of course! That’s why she won’t talk to me!”

In fact, Batty didn’t interact with Henry because of an unfortunate incident in which Kal thought the poppet belonged to him and nearly tore it to shreds. Mercia had yet to forgive the dog. Her mother repaired the doll as best as she could, though it still bore the marks of its ordeal. Elaine was clever enough to replace some of the lost stuffing with the same herbs she used to treat people with similar wounds. It was Simon’s idea to add lavender to it to help the child relax.

“Where Simon?” Mercia asked.

Simon was Mercia’s dearest companion and she was his. He often referred to the girl as his own small angel, and sometimes asked her where her wings had gone.

Henry would’ve gladly been her playmate, ready for a footrace or a game at a moment’s notice, if his older brother had not asserted himself in that role. Simon’s special relationship with her daughter kindled Elaine’s affections for him until they mirrored his own admiration and tenderness for the healer.

Simon, like Henry, longed for the joy and companionship of a wife and family, though his desire was even greater than his brother’s.

Charlie, too, wanted a family of his own, but he would not admit such a thing aloud. He could be prickly and cold to those he disliked while charming, funny, and kind to those he did. He often made up his mind about people quite quickly, and once his opinion was formed it was difficult to change. Such was the case with Thomasin.

“Simon is still in the north, at the castle I told you about,” Henry said to the little girl. “I know he would rather be here playing with you.”

“He coming back?”

“Soon.”

She frowned. “I miss him. He my friend.”

“Am I not your friend, too?” Henry said with false sadness.

“Yeah, you my friend but you not best friend like Simon.”

Henry sighed theatrically. “I suppose I understand.” He looked around but there was no sign of Elaine, only a handful of serving women pinning wet clothes on a line. “Where’s your mother?”

“She with Lady Thomasin.”

Henry broke into a smile at the sound of her name. He always did. “You’ve met Tom?”

The child frowned again. “Who Tom?”

“It’s a name I call Thomasin.”

“Tom is name for boys. Thomasin not a boy,” she explained patiently.

“Of course, of course. Please forgive me.”

“I forgive,” she said, patting his shoulder.

Henry chuckled. “Is your mother friends with Tom? Thomasin,” he corrected.

“Yeah but they not play today. Thomasin not feel good.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

Mercia motioned for Henry to bring his ear closer so she could whisper to him. “Lady sickness.” She pulled away. “Mama say not to talk about it cause it a secret. Cannot tell!”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Henry promised. He was quietly relieved to hear it was nothing serious, but he frowned over it. Was she really sick, he wondered, or had her engagement to Lawrence prompted her to withdraw from court life?

“Thomasin pretty,” Mercia said.

“Very pretty,” Henry agreed.

“I like her hair.” The little girl started wiggling, a silent signal for Henry to set her down. “She sad though cause she gotta marry Lawrence. Lawrence really scary. And it a bad thing so I say, ‘Goddamn it!’” She shouted the curse; a female servant nearby looked shocked and horrified at the sound.

“Shh!” Henry said, putting his finger to his lips. “Who said that in front of you? Where did you hear it?”

“You say it. When Kal sneaked up on you and barked. You jump and you say, ‘Goddamn it!’”

“Shh!” Henry said again. “You mustn’t say that.”

“Cause why?”

Henry didn’t have a good reason handy. “Ask Simon when he gets back.”

“Why you not tell me?” she asked, sticking out her lower lip in a pout.

“Because I’m not your best friend.”

Henry went for two rounds with Roger, winning both. He then sparred with his squire, since it was his responsibility to train the boy, but he lacked the patience for it today. “Practice your footwork before next time, Jamie. It’s too easy to knock you on your arse.”

“We have an audience,” Roger murmured, nodding to a small, barred window at the base of the castle that looked in on the dungeon. A red-bearded face was just visible through the iron grate. One of the Saxon prisoners, no doubt.

“Can I be of service, sir?” Roger called out. He was courteous by nature, but he became excessively so when speaking to a handsome man – even if that man was in chains.

“Are you preparing for a fight?” the man asked.

Henry opened his mouth to tell the Saxon that it was none of his business, but Roger answered instead. “Aye.”

“What are you fighting over?”

“What do you care?” Henry said. The Saxon shrugged. “A woman,” Henry finally said.

The Saxon didn’t approve. “One woman is just as good as another. It is no great tragedy to lose one to another man. Certainly not worth dying over.”

Henry though the Saxon must not have known many women in his life if he thought they were all interchangeable. But fair number of men, Saxon and Norman alike, shared his sentiment: So long as she ran the household and gave birth to sons, a woman was a woman, and her personality was of little consequence.

“I disagree,” said Henry.

“Then she must be the kindest, most loving woman in all of Christendom if you’re willing to die for her,” the Saxon remarked.

Roger smirked. He spoke low enough that only Henry could hear when he said, “She most certainly is not.” Henry shot him a look which he pretended not to say. “What’s your name, Saxon?”

The Saxon sucked his teeth and narrowed his eyes in thought but did not reply.

“I’m Baron Roger,” Roger said. “This is Henry, my brother-by-law. And you are?” he prompted when the Saxon didn’t respond.

The Saxon replied, “Cerdic.”

One of the squires came around with a note from Henry when Thomasin was readying for dinner. It told Thomasin to come to the servant’s corridor at once. She hurried to finish preparing and went straight to the meeting spot.

“Henry?” she whispered, tiptoeing through the silent hall.

“No.”

Thomasin’s hand flew to her chest in surprise; her fist closed around Henry’s ring. “Charlie,” she gasped. She took a deep breath. “You nearly frightened the life out of me.”

Charlie did not look even the least bit contrite. In fact, he looked murderous. “You can’t let Henry get himself killed for you.”

Straight into arguing, then, Thomasin thought. A gentleman of Charlie’s pedigree ought to feign civility before starting trouble, at least in the beginning of the conversation.

“Do you think I want that? That I’m happy to have Henry risk his life?” Thomasin snapped. “Do you think I haven’t tried to reason with him?”

“You must try harder.”

“I must do nothing of the sort.” Thomasin agreed with his sentiment, but the way he spoke to her made her see red. “You try to reason with him! You’re his brother.”

“I have tried,” he growled, each word as sharp as a razor. “He’s determined to kill himself for you.”

Thomasin was ready to murder Charlie. It was a long time coming. “It’s not my fault that Henry fell in love with me,” she snapped. And that was true, wasn’t it? She hadn’t encouraged his affection, at least not at first. Had she? “I can’t control what he does. Go on hating me if you like, but it won’t change anything for anyone.”

“There’s another way.” Charlie swallowed his discomfort. “If you invite him to share your–”

Thomasin shook her head. “I’ve tried that,” she said, blushing all the way to her hairline. “He won’t. He’s too damn honorable for it.”

“Well you don’t need him to now if it’s already been done,” said Charlie.

“I don’t follow.”

Charlie fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I know about that night at the pond, just before you were injured.”

She shouldn’t be surprised to hear that he knew; they hadn’t exactly been subtle. But Charlie assumed too much.

Thomasin took a deep breath and ignored the feeling of blood rushing into her cheeks. “Henry and I didn’t . . .”

Charlie shut his eyes and tried to be delicate. “Madam, you were unclothed –”

“He didn’t bed me,” Thomasin said strongly. A moment later, she added, “Not quite.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just tell the king you are not virtuous; you’ll be released from your betrothal without getting my brother slaughtered.”

Thomasin exhaled through her nose. “I’ve considered this course of action,” she confessed. “But it seems unwise to lie to the king, especially for a Saxon. Besides, Lawrence might demand proof. They’ll know I’m lying if they examine me.”

Charlie believed his brother was too fine a man to take advantage of Thomasin, but he was a bit surprised that she was a virgin – or claimed to be, at least. She didn’t possess many virtues that he was aware of, and he hadn’t expected chastity to be one of them.

“It won’t come to that. Some of the men will attest to what they saw that night in the camp.”

Some of the men? Good Lord, how many of them had seen her and Henry together? The fact that any man had seen them meant the whole group knew what happened; gossip spread through camps like wildfire through a dry forest.

Good. Wonderful. Now she was a shrew and a whore.

Charlie was calmer now but his gaze stayed sharp. “My brother loves you. He says it and shows it all the time.”

Thomasin’s throat tightened. “I know.” There was never a doubt in her mind about it. She had the love of a good man. Not many women could say that.

“Yet I’ve never heard you say you love him. I’ve never seen you show it,” he continued. “I won’t let him die for a woman who doesn’t love him back.”

He was right.

She didn’t love him. She couldn’t.

It would betray the promise she made the night her father died never to forgive the invaders that stole her life away. That promise and the anger and pain beneath it were all Thomasin had left of her old self. She doubted she’d ever see any of her siblings again, or her home. That promise was her quiet rebellion against a change she could not fight.

She was allowed to feel tenderness for him, even affection, but she could not love him.

“You don’t know a damned thing about what I feel,” she snarled. She could hardly contain her fury; her whole body shook with the urge to lash out at Charlie and the difficulty of controlling it.

“Perhaps I don’t,” Charlie said. “But don’t allow a good man get killed for nothing.”

Thomasin’s throat was suddenly dry and tight and sore. “I won’t.”

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morimakesfanart · 3 years ago

Text

Sindria's Prophet #11

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

[AO3]

*edited so the images are better

"... At least until we can get you to your room. You need to wake up before they ring the bell."

'What's goin' on..?' Why was my shoulder shaking?

"Is Mori okay?”

The sound of my nickname snapped me into consciousness. I pushed myself up and hummed in question. When I opened my eyes it took me a moment to adjust to the bright light. Everyone was standing in front of a gate.

"Did you sleep well?"

Why did this world have three suns? Wait. Two were Sinbad's eyes. That checks out.

I nodded with another hum. I wasn't able to form words yet, and even if I could I would have lost access from waking up to such a beautiful sight.

I missed his response since I was still half asleep, but I did hear Ja'far repeating his words from earlier.

"Please, try to stay awake for a little while. When we step through, they will ring the bell to announce Sin's arrival home. We didn't want you waking up from the shock."

I had to repeat his words in my mind to hold onto them.

"Oh. Thank you for waking me."

Even with their best efforts I didn't have enough time to get clear headed before the bell was rang to announce the return of the King. I ended up jolting anyway.

I was glad to still be on Aladdin's flying turban. I couldn't focus if my life depended on it. I had some energy since I had just been resting and I was still mostly numb from sleep so my aches and pains weren't affecting me yet. After being sick for so long, I was in serious need of serotonin, so I couldn't shake the waves of excitement building in me as I realized I really was in Sinbad's Palace. It's one thing to read about something and another to actually experience it. I knew I had said I would see a doctor as soon as I arrived, but I couldn't stop myself from going into full geek mode and just wanting to look around.

In other words, I was a weak, energetic, space cadet without a filter -prime condition to make an idiot and/or nuisance of myself- if I couldn't find something to force me to "sober" up and start masking.

---

~POV Sin~

Horns announced the King's return to his Palace as the group walked through its gate. Many of the guards and civil servants present gave their welcome. The looks of awe on his guests' faces as they walked through the entrance to the court yard boosted Sinbad's already large ego.

Alibaba's and Aladdin's excitement had started to wane after walking so long, but Mori had the same look she wore when she first got on the ship. Now that Sinbad had seen her like that before, he knew better than to try to engage her in something she wasn't already thinking about. It was a lot like dealing with Yamuraiha after the magicians made a breakthrough. But that didn't mean he wouldn't still try to tease her if he had the opportunity; he'd just have to try a different method.

It was a bit of a relief to see Mori so energetic after the previous night. He would still have the doctors sent to her asap though.

Given how important his guests were, Sinbad decided to escort them, himself, to the Green Sagittarius Tower. Placing the 3 kids in the guest tower was a given since they hadn't agreed to any partnerships yet. The Purple Leo Tower was where Sinbad and his most trusted lived; as much as he wanted to move Mori in there with them immediately, Sinbad knew it would be better to wait until the others learned to trust her, so his Prophet was going to have to stay in the Green Sagittarius Tower for now. This would also give them more time to prepare her permanent room.

Ja'far raised his voice slightly to get all of the guests' attention as he explained a little about the Tower. Masrur took his cue to leave. The Fanalis raised his hand in a half hearted wave as he turned away from the group and started to walk away. The King watched one General leave as he heard the other lead his guests into the Tower.

It was his time to head off too. The rest of his Generals that had been left at home would be showing up to greet him -there was a lot to catch up on. As Sinbad had started to leave, the waves encouraged him to look back at the guest tower. Mori was standing watching him instead of following Ja'far. She had her bag in her arms instead of on her back.

"Is something wrong?"

"I know I should go rest and wait for a doctor, but," she looked at him with an odd expression -like she was seeing through him, "the waves keep pointing me that way." She pointed at the direction he was going.

She was right. The waves would have her follow him

instead of Ja'far.

"It's Drakon!" Mori gasped and her eyes grew. She gave a small laugh to herself. "The first Household Member is the first to show up."

Sure enough, the only member of Sinbad's Household that had fully assimilated with his Djinn's power had entered the court yard.

If she had this much energy and the waves wanted her out here then it should be fine. "Would you like to meet him now?"

Mori looked up at him shocked and expectant. "Is that okay???” It was like he was the center of her world in that moment.

"As long as you feel up to it." This was a good feeling.

She squeezed her bag in her arms. Mori seemed to become like a clingy child when she was unwell. If he had told her to go rest would she have begged him to stay and clung to him like she had before?

Her eyes grew determined. "I will have energy for about an hour. I'll go rest when I start to wear out, and I will ask for help if I need it -you don't have to remind me." Was she this direct because she was sick?

Drakon's deep voice came from behind Sinbad. "Welcome home, my friend."

The King turned to face his General. "It's good to be back."

"How did things end in Balbadd? When we heard about you loosing your metal vessels we got a little worried but it looks like you got them back." He laughed at the end. Drakon knew better than most that his King always manages to come out on top no matter what happens to him. He stiffened slightly. "Hmm? Who's this?” The General noticed Mori before Sinbad had a chance to answer his other questions.

Time for introductions then. "Drakon, this is Mori. She's the prophet I told Yam about." The King gestured towards her.

Mori put her bag down and when she stood up she had full composure. She offered a hand to the General. "It's an honor to meet you, Drakon. I read all about you when I read Fate." If Sinbad didn't know any better he would have no idea Mori had nearly died of fever only a few hours ago -she only looked tired. She was much better at acting than he expected. How long could she hide it though?

Drakon looked more dragon than man now making most uneasy around him, yet Mori didn't seem scared of him at all. Was it because she was hiding it or because she had read Fate? Actually, there was a strange glint in her eyes he couldn't place.

"Oh?” Drakon took her up on the handshake she offered. It was rare for someone not to flinch upon seeing him for the first time; Mori was definitely making a good first impression. "I must admit that I'm curious about this ability of yours."

The glint in Mori's eye grew into a full sparkle.

Their handshake didn't sit right with King Sinbad.

When their hands released, Mori put her hands in her pockets like she often did.

"Would you like an example?" Her smile didn't give anything away. "Before you were shipped out to Baal's Dungeon you tried to be noble and charming to Serendine but she responded by talking about how you followed her around 'like a baby duck' when you were little. Then she made you promise not to die." The waves were building around Mori again.

Serendine must have really said that. Drakon might not look human anymore, but Sinbad could still read his friend's expressions plain as day. Drakon was shocked by the first thing she said, and she was only just starting. Mori really was amazing.

"I know! Let me show you what I've got copied down so far" Mori squat down to her bag. She pulled out and opened a scroll, "Yeah. This one." She stood up with the scroll in hand and swayed a bit on the way up -she couldn't hide her condition fully.

Mori stepped between the King and his General, and turned so they were all facing the same direction. She raised the scroll so it would be easier to see. "Honestly, I had some other things to write down before I could start copying down Fate. I didn't start this until getting onto the ship, so please excuse the sloppiness."

Mori's handwriting looked rushed, like she couldn't get all of this out fast enough. Sinbad had barely gotten to start reading before she continued unrolling to reveal a detailed illustration of a family of three.

"That's-!" It was Sinbad and his parents when he was little.

Drakon glanced at his King, "Sin, are those people your parents?"

"Yup." Mori responded without looking up. "He looks a lot like Badrr, doesn't he?"

Back in Balbadd, Mori had said that she had read his life from his birth to his death, but it was different seeing undeniable proof.

She scrolled past more text and past another illustration and didn't stop until she got to a drawing of child Drakon following Serendine just like she had described. Mori continued scrolling through her work, and each image brought on more comments. There was an illustration of Sinbad meeting Yunan which she gratefully skipped past, a few of inside Baal and one from when Sinbad killed the Abare Narwhal in place of-

"Is this one of me? I look so young!!" The Imuchakk towered over all of them.

Mori whipped her head up. "Hinahoho?!" She wobbled from her quick movement. Sinbad placed a hand at her back to steady her; Mori didn't even react to his hand, instead she put all of her weight on it so she could stare up at the man behind them for a moment. That excited smile spread across her face. "Hello! It's nice to meet you. Please call me Mori."

Sinbad had purposefully gestured for Hina to stay quiet when he came up behind them so as not to distract Mori, but this was fine too.

"So this is where you went!" Ja'far came back from getting the three kids settled into their room.

Mori's smile was unwavering as she stood back on her own, unrolled the scroll to the next image and flipped it around for Ja'far to see. "We just got to your entrance. Care to join us?"

"Lady Prophet, I know you slept on your way here, but you were barely able to get off the ship before you had to lay down. Did you forget you're sick??"

Both Generals that had been looking at the scroll murmured questions about Mori's condition while the Prophet said nothing. At least Ja'far's words would have explained who Mori was for Hinahoho.

Ja'far's eyes wandered to the scroll in Mori's hands; his shoulders jolted when he realized what he was looking at. "Is that me??” He stepped closer to get a better look. After studying the image he looked up at the person holding it. "Did you make this?"

"Yes and yes."

The Prophet and the youngest General present watched each other for an opening.

Mori broke their silence. "I will go rest when I finish showing this scroll. We are almost done anyway."

Ja'far sighed. "Fine." He walked up next to Sinbad to join the group. Even if he tried to deny it, he couldn't fully hide his interest. "What is this scroll you've made?"

Mori turned

the scroll back around so the rest were able to see an image of when Ja'far attacked Sinbad in his sleep back when he was still an assassin. "Since I'm Sindria's Prophet now, I am copying down Fate so it will be easier to keep in order than thinking about it. This is just a draft though. After I have everything written down I'll go back and make it better."

That explanation was perfectly timed as two more Generals had join the group from behind -not that Mori seemed to notice.

Next was an image of Hina in a cave being surrounded by insects.

"Hold on. I never told anyone about that."

Mori stopped scrolling at Hinahoho's comment.

"What is this?" Sinbad asked his General.

But it was Mori who answered. "When Hinahoho first entered Valefor's Dungeon he was swarmed by Blooderflies."

"'Blooderflies?'" All six repeated back at her.

"Butterflies that drink blood," she explained confidently. When none of them responded she tensed. Sinbad could see her turn a little pink as she said to herself, "I thought it was a clever name."

"I think it's hilarious!" Pisiti said before breaking into giggles.

Mori jolted, "It's Pisti this time!" and started to look around for the source of the voice. She spotted the Artemyran that was shorter than herself and the man standing behind her. "And Sharkkan!”

Sinbad could see Yamuraiha and Spartos in the distance. As soon as they were all introduced he'd have Mori head to bed -end of the scroll or not; the waves from earlier would be reaching their peak soon and she had almost fell over twice already. Of course, he wouldn't mind catching her again, but he didn't want her pushing herself in her current condition.

The cocky prince had his hands on his hips. "Are you really a Prophet or our biggest fan?"

"Maybe I'm both," Mori answered with a smile. Her face was a little red.

Was she flirting with Sharkkan??

"That so?" Sharkkan smirked and leaned between Drakon and Hinahoho to get a closer look at her. "When they said there was a real prophet I was expecting some old hag, not a cutie like you."

Mori's eyes dilated and she gave a small gasp. Seeing Mori get embarrassed from compliments was something that Sinbad normally enjoyed, but this time it put a bad taste in his mouth. And did Sharkkan have to get so close to her?

Mori clearly agreed since she attempted to step away from the flirtiest of the Eight Generals. She must have forgotten about her own bag though, as she tripped over it and fell backwards right into Sinbad's arms.

Mori didn't try to stand back up at all. She looked up at the King and after a moment she hid her face behind the scroll she was holding. ”I-I am not a klutz!”

"Oh?" Sinbad smiled down at her. This was much better. "Then did you intentionally fall-”

Mori clapped a hand over his mouth. "No! Shut up! I blame you for this!” She pulled the scroll into her chest, but it unrolled anyway. She was doing a poor job of hiding her enjoyment of his teasing.

He laughed into her hand and she went quiet. Her blush started traveling down her neck since her face couldn't contain it all. This was a much stronger reaction than he normally got from her. He was clearly the only one that could pull such cute expressions out of Mori. Sinbad kissed the palm hiding his lips, and when she pulled it back to herself with an "Ah!" he knew he had to tease her more.

"Are you saying you're really swooning for me then, my Beautiful Prophet?"

"I-!" Mori couldn't bring herself to deny it and pulled the scroll back up to her face. She still wasn't trying to stand on her own or leave his arms.

"That's a good atmosphere."

*Whistles*

"You don't think ...?"

"OH MY-!"

See? No one could seduce a woman better than he could.

Mori finally found her rebuttal. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to be surrounded by your waves near constantly??"

He hadn't thought about that. Mori's waves were constantly opening new paths for Fate to flow. They have felt advantageous and that they would help him reach his goals. He wanted to keep her close to see what other changes she would make. And of course he had felt that she was going to live out the rest of her life in Sindria. But what did his waves feel like to her?

She looked up at him as angry as she was embarrassed. "I only slipped on the ramp and just now, and-and fell off of the bowsprit last night, because your waves crashed into me!”

That caught him off guard. "You knew it was me last night?"

"YES!" Mori's voice cracked at the end; she was still recovering so all this talking must have been wearing her out. "You're the only one who's waves feel like this." She broke eye as she got to the end.

Mori could identify him from his waves? There were certain people who's waves stood out to him as well -like hers-, but Sinbad was still not used to anyone else being able to feel the waves. This meant that he had kept quiet for nothing. It also meant that Mori had clung to him knowing who he was -maybe she wouldn't have accepted comfort from just anyone.

Her voice was almost inaudible. "When I realized it was you I was relieved. I've gotten hurt in the past when I was sick because I was alone so, ... thank you for taking care of me."

Just like when he had first learned that Mori could feels the waves, he was happy he was already holding her. He wanted to pull her closer like he had last time as well.

Yam let out a gasp while landing.

"WAIT!" Ja'far had been about to cut in to stop their antics anyway, but this was a completely different issue. "Mori, can you feel the waves of Fate like Sin??"

The King and the Prophet both stared at Ja'far for a few moments before answering in unison, "Yes."

((Hey everybody. Pretty sure you can guess why this chapter took so long. I just really wanted to draw so much of this chapter in comic form UwU Also, a bunch of life things got in the way. Now that everything is opening back up I can't work from home anymore. I'm very sensitive to the heat so I have to rest and cool down after each drive which really cuts into the time I have each day. -_-

Ja'far stared in disbelief at his King. "Sin, you knew?? Are you sure?"

With the mood completely ruined Sinbad helped Mori stand up properly. She grabbed his sleeve to keep herself steady and he left his arm around her waist just in case.

All of Sinbad's Generals -sans Masrur who had already left- were watching him. Mori had many abilities that made her extremely valuable, but they also made her a prime target to any of their enemies. The more her value is known the bigger the target on her will be, and Mori wasn't a fighter. Sinbad had already told all of them that Mori was a Prophet since she had already made that skill known to others, and it was something he wanted to use -there was no way he could hide it. His Generals had kept the fact that he could feel the waves a secret this whole time, so they would be able to keep her secret as well.

"Mori can definitely feel the waves of Fate. But you should know it is different from her ability as a prophet." He figured he should clear that up before they asked. Sinbad didn't know how they were different, but he had enough information to know they were.

Mori's voice was a little horse and on the weak side. "Since King Sinbad and Ja'far eavesdropped on my conversation with Aladdin there's no reason to hide it."

The King and his partner in crime froze. SHE KNEW HE HAD SPIED ON HER. Did his waves give him away?

Mori continued, "I can only read the Fates of realities that I am not currently in. It's not the same as different planets; It's a different universe with different rules." She rolled up the scroll while explaining. "The one I came from doesn't have Rukh, magoi, magic, or Djinn, but we did have 1500 to 2000 more years of scientific development compared to this world-" She was cut off by a short coughing fit.

Sinbad looked down at Mori. She was getting worse by the second. It was most likely fever and not embarrassment making her cheeks red in this moment. "It seems I've pushed you too hard while you are still recovering. My apologies." It was time to send the prophet to bed. He pulled at her waist lightly. "Let's get you to your room so you can rest."

Mori shook her head. "I have one more thing I want to say first."

"Fine." If it wasn't for the look in her eyes he would have refused her.

Mori's voice was getting worse so she had to take breaks in her speech. "I don't know what caused me to slip from my reality into this one, but I'm here now ... I fully intend to use my knowledge to help this world... But since I can't read this world's Fates anymore, I don't know how my changes will affect things..." She gripped the scroll like a life line. "As much as I'd like to answer the questions you all must have now... my voice is really starting to hurt, so I'd like to go rest."

Sinbad sighed. "Of course." It was a tough note to leave on, but her health came first. They'd have plenty of time to talk once she was better.

On a side note, I will be drawing Storpas (lol) in the next chapter. Don't worry, I didn't forget him.

It will probably be another 2 weeks or so before I finish the next chapter since I have less time to work on it now.))

#sindria's prophet #magi prophet fanfic #king sinbad #sinbad magi #magi sinbad #magi fanart #magi fanfiction #sinbad x oc #sinbadxoc #magi fan comic

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pinktatertots99 · 3 years ago

Note

PLEASE WRITE KANKRI HITTING ON RUFIOH THROUGH AN ELABORATE THESIS ITD BE SO FUNNY

nonnie...i would be so honored. THIS ONES FOR YOU and all my like, five rufkri shippers out there.

basically kinda sorta more a love confession but ey its kinda flirty with wha he talks about.

also for some who need the helps: rufioh uses 1′s for i’s, kankri uses 6′s for B’s, and he uses 9′s for O’s -ye i’m adding this just incase, we all need reminders cause kankri’s can be a fucking headache of a quirk-

-COUGHS- my archiveofourown link to this fic -COUGHS-

_____________________________

your name is rufioh nitram and your taking a breath for yourself for once. you find yourself in a dream bubble you re-imagined as your old lost boy's location: tall blue and pink tree's with red cherry colored petals on them and littered at their tops various treehives connected via bridge's, stair cases, the gist.

you lay back on one of them that was your's, a big blocky one that has a couple windmills on top of it laying on the ledge that covered the top of your front door. kicking your leg absentmindedly as ol nostalgia rings through you, you barely get this kinda alone time but talk bout the advantage's of dream bubbles and damara's nice descendant escorting you.

until you hear the grass crunch from under you. you could just ignore it, finally steal some time for yourself but that’s not how your gears work; damn rogue bullcrap. you open your colorless eyes and move to look over your left where your sitting and spot a blob of red and feel a weird sense of relief.

its none other then your groupies lead spokesman kankri vantas walkin around trying to find you from how he keeps looking to his sides. kankri’s...something alright. sure everyone complains bout how much he babbles on bout half baked facts, preachy, pushy, an angry lil firecracker; actually maybe that’s why he’s so angry.

oddly though your not around alot for those, you’ll eyeroll at somethings but otherwise he’s pretty chill around you. bonus he’s celibate so you finally have someone who won’t try hitting on you every time you breathe in their direction. also your a mutant like him so mutant bro’s unite you’d think, it was cool finding you weren’t the only ‘cullbait’ of the gang honestly.

you go to get up and stretch your wings and back a bit. you may aswell make a sick entrance. you go run two steps and jump, your falling for a few seconds and it has your adrenaline pump before your wings pick up their flapping and have you flying downward slowly.

you saw kankri see you with near panic but pretty neutral look, dude barely had any sorta reactions but that was alright if it meant you could spot the teeniest moment he’d be thrown off as you land on the grass softly five steps away from him.

“9h.” he replies as you snicker. “pretty s1ck r1ght?” “in y9ur ling9 yes 6ut i advice y9u t9 please try n9t t9 use it s9 l99sely especially ar9und th9se in medically unwell situati9ns.”

you rub behind your neck. “sorry. anyways wha’ up? pass1n by?” you notice a pile of papers in his arms, maybe he’s gonna go preaching to some of those new human ghosts maybe? your betting the dude with the pointy glasses will be a conflict to him if he does.

“9h n9 actually i came t9 find y9u.” he states and you perk up a bit. find you? “megid9′s descendant was kind en9ugh t9 esc9rt me here.” ah her, you really should’ve figured. you take a step or two closer lookin down to see him cause dude’s fuckin short. “yeah? uhhh alr1ght, well what’s up?”

he looks back to his papers almost, hesitant? kankri vantas nervous? tarnish the thought till he looks back up clearing his throat. “genetical uniqueness.” ...what? “what?” you ask as he continues. “genetical uniqueness in 9ne’s self is a kn9wn fact9r 9ne sees in an9ther that is a small step to a gr9wing infatuati9n in said individual whether it 6e aesthetical, physical or pers9nality wise.”

...you...you don’t know what’s going on. is he giving a lecture? seminar? on genetics? oh gog messiah’s dangit kankri may be your boy as you’ve called him before (not around him you know better) but man there’s only so much of him you can chill with until it starts getting to well, this point. you don’t stop him though cause kankri vantas never stops until he’s finished.

“s9me f9rms 9f genetical uniqueness c9uld c9me fr9m all 9f th9se and m9re. f9r example, an unc9mm9n s9cietal genetic that while n9t unc9mm9n can 6e seen as a f9rm of interest to s9me9ne and unique. whether freckles, hatchmarks or, wings perhaps.” your wings flap at that.

“9f c9urse t9 t9uch 9n the first three f9rms 9f attraction i mentioned if y9u d9n’t mind my reference 6ack t9 the su6jects at hand, an aesthetical attracti9n t9 certain f9rms 9f attire and style that differ’s fr9m 9ne’s 9wn can 6e an9ther. 9f c9urse this is entirely su6jective as n9 indivudals are the same 9n this manner h9wever 9pp9site’s attract seem t9 have m9re likelih99d t9 find 69nds in a multitude 9f ways. examples 9f this kind 9f su6ject is perhaps a rebel-esque design that c9rrelates t9 s9me a resistance t9 a c9nf9rma6le s9ciety with it’s 9wn strict regulati9ns and laws. s9mething like rigid and ripped attire 9r sharp disc9l9red hair c9uld 6e examples that 9ne wh9 while n9t p9ssibly sharing th9se designs with them finds inspiring t9 l99k t9.”

you look at your ripped jeans and vest. you...kinda still dont know what he’s going on about, but you keep listening.

“the sec9nd aspect, physical is 9n a similar subjectivity as while 9ne finds a physical aspect 9f s9me9ne attractive an9ther will n9t. h9wever physical attracti9n inv9lves s9me f9rm 9f the 9ther individuals 69dy they deem as p9tentiality t9 perhaps engage in a quadranted arrangement with said individual whether h9rns, fangs, a smile that gives a pleasant crease to their facial structure, their 69dy language when shy 9r excited, perhaps even height as acc9unta6le as studies sh9w a pred9minant interest in a taller partner for feelings of pr9tecti9n, sta6ility, 9r an9ther f9rm 9f 9pp9site’s attracting if the 9ther party isn’t their perceived interest’s 9wn height.”

you rub the back of your neck...nervously. your not dumb your getting some serious implications. you don’t wanna believe them, nah no way kankri’s celibate maybe he’s talking bout someone else? alotta their team has nice smiles and taller then him or dress ‘rebelistic’ as he calls it.

“lastly there’s attraction to pers9nality. m9st w9uld like a pers9nality they find in s9me f9rm similar t9 their 9wn t9 gain n9t 9nly m9re in c9mm9n t9 create a 69nd 6ut als9 as a starting part f9r c9mm9nality t9 make it easier t9 take the necessary steps. s9me h9wever may find attracti9n t9 a pers9nality that differs fr9m their 9wn. why is dependa6le 9n certain pers9nal aspects but m9st are 9ut of jeal9usy f9r seeing s9me9ne they are n9t, 9r perhaps admirati9n t9 have what they have 6ut cann9t 9r are una6le t9 yet due t9 their 9wn pers9nal reas9ns and s9 they try finding a partner wh9 has s9me 9f th9se aspects they cann9t harness. n9t in a c9ntr9lling way mind y9u n9r t9 use them 6ut due t9 a f9rm 9f admirati9n and interest.”

you nod as he perks up. “ah, ap9l9gies h9wever menti9ning quadrants earlier. they have a varying r9le in these f9rms 9f attracti9n 6ut i failed t9 reitterate this 6eing m9re 9pen t9 interpretati9n 9n any f9rm 9f quadrants i’m referring t9 as many 9f these examples in this thesis can 6e f9r any quadrant. als9 ap9l9gies f9r the menti9n 9f this su6ject due t9 y9ur recent 6reak fr9m y9ur matesprit i didn’t mean f9r any kind 9f harm t9 y9u 9n it.” “nah 1t’s okay 1 get 1t. 1′m f1ne.”

he nods going back to his papers, least it looks like he’s almost done. “thank y9u. n9w where was i? right. n9w many examples 9f pers9nality attracti9n vary fr9m pers9n t9 pers9n 6ut i shall use a hyp9thetical and keep in mind it’s 9nly hyp9thetical. perhaps s9me9ne is rather una6le to s9cialize with any f9rm 9f 9ther parties due t9 varying 9pp9site interests or 9stracizati9n fr9m said gr9up. perhaps they meet s9me9ne wh9, perhaps shares s9me f9rm 9f genetical uniqueness t9 them, perhaps als9 having similar experiences t9 what their shared s9ciety 9r even different s9cieties share similarities t9. b9th gr9w and act very differently due t9 h9w they react and are raised in said s9ciatal climate. while the first hyp9thetical partner gr9ws t9 6e m9re f9refr9nt and 9pen t9 their 9wn th9ughts that s9me find c9ntr9versial the sec9nd partner is pers9nally flexible with an exteri9r design and m9re positive pers9nality s9me find m9re likely t9 fl9ck t9 them m9re.”

he’s hiding behind his papers but you swear you saw those cheeks turning a tint of red. your blushing too but you don’t know if its the same as his. your pumpbiscuit is beating hard but you don’t know if its infatuation or anxiety.

“perhaps, when the first pers9n sees this they find themselves just as infatuated to make themself kn9wn t9 this pers9n due t9 their 9pen relia6ility. perhaps they als9 feel a f9rm 9f jeal9usy that they are unable t9 have the same people-friendly exteri9r t9 them and, wish they had that ability t9 d9 s9. may6e the 9ther seems, at least t9 the first individual, 9pen t9 them and what they have t9 say 9r are fine with spending time with them that has the first individual to sl9wly c9me t9 terms with their 9wn feelings 9n this pers9n. even, s9 far as t9 admit even with their 9wn pers9nal views 9f themselves and their 9wn 6eliefs, they may find them, expenda6le t9wards this individual.”

okay no the beating is anxiety now, this is WAY too much you see it all now and your...scared. your really scared now. he sighs and clears his throat again. “in c9nclusi9n i 6elieve these f9ur fact9r’s are likely c9mp9nants t9 6uild a f9rm 9f r9mantic attracti9n 9ne may find in an9ther. s9, what did y9u think 9f it?”

your horrified, your rubbing your arm nervously and trying to put on a smile for him. “1t’s...pretty good yeah. real conv1nc1ng.” you feel like such a douchebag right now getting nervous. your recent break with horrus was, okay shitty to say, but it was nice having a break from romance.

you know you know that’s really shitty, but you feel the need to put all you can in it and you get drained and can’t keep going sometimes. its like the break charges you up so then your back to giving him your all and it repeats. it sucks, but he loves you and you feel even more douchy at the idea of telling him you can’t do it anymore, ever, after yanking his chain for this long.

you...don’t want that for kankri. your at a 50% charge right now on romancing least flushed wise, you never tried the other quad’s before. what if he wants flushed? you can’t do that you’d lose him if you pulled what you do to horrus on him cause you really kinda, don’t know how to stop or talk about it.

even then you don’t even know if your both broken up for good or what, you could end up with him again and then it’d be a damara situation and you don’t want kankri to be your next damara he keeps grudges way longer then her (which your surprised she tolerates you enough even with her grudge but you digress).

even then all he talked about felt, surface level. like everyone’s crush’s on you; except meenah which guess this means she’s the only one never to flirt with you now. damn it. still though he doesn’t even really know you, sure he could learn but, do you really want him to? learn about how much of a fraud you are? how all this is an act and you honestly have no fucking clue why anyone likes you? how you can’t be your own troll? gog he’d be so disappointed he goes on about trolls equalizing and needing their own rights to be their own troll but you can’t do that; not even for him probably.

point is: your shit at flushed and you don’t want kankri involved. you wanna give him those free feelings your classpect is supposed to do. hard part is, how’re you gonna let him down?

before you can think further he speaks up. “i’m glad y9u think s9. y9ur an excellent listener rufi9h i d9 genuinely appreciate it.” you see a twitch at the end of his lip and it pains you the fact he almost smiled. “perhaps we can have m9re 9f these meetups next time?” he asks taking a step to leave.

your surprised but kinda relieved too, least he’s not asking you out, but then again he’s also coming back sometime. meaning he might get more and more confident to actually pop the question your not ready to burst his bubble with your response with yet.

you smile though and wave at him. “ahah, sure sure 1′ll be here for 1t. or, we can meetup here?” he nods moving to look away as he walks off. “i will make n9te 9f that f9r 9ur next c9nversati9n. take care nitram.” he states, you watch as he gets more distant and vanishes in the forest.

you sigh long and relieved and go to fly back to your spot, moving to lay down on it though as you let it all soak in. your rufioh nitram and you just got flirted with by the kankri celibate vantas himself.

#homestuck #hs #home stuck #fanfiction #rufkri #rufioh x kankri #kankri x rufioh #rufioh nitram x kankri vantas #kankri vantas x rufioh nitram #i made this

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calmlftv · 4 years ago

Text

sweet creature. - m.c.

description: this is entirely self indulgent but here’s some dad!sos michael for our dad!sos michael needs. 100% fluff

word count: 2.3k

warnings: pregnancy, descriptions of labor pains and birthing process, descriptions of pain.

w/n: hi thanks to @spicycal i started and finished this within a matter of hours, i did not proof read this so if there are typos or errors im SO sorry! thank u sarah for the brain zoomies x

taglist: @spicycal @n-ctarinenga @irwinkitten @castaway-cashton @blackbutterfliescal @notinthesameguey @ashtonsos @loveroflrh @bestyearssos @treatallwithkindness @bestyearslftv @another-lonely-heart-blog @ashtonlftv

****

When Michael first finds out you’re pregnant, he’s overjoyed but nervous; while talking of the future he had confessed he was nervous about being a dad, his fears of “fucking up” his kid rearing their ugly head as you had laid in bed together. Your post-sex glow was shining over the two of you despite it having been a bit of time since your activities had ended, the conversation having started from your lack of protection earlier in the evening.

You had frowned at him, his face buried in the valley of your shoulder, lips and bits of scruff tickling your bare skin. “You’d be a great dad,” you said softly, fingers running through his hair. “I see how you wave to staring babies at grocery stores and in the dog parks, Michael. You’d be an excellent father to your kids.”

He lifted his head to match your gaze, his beautiful eyes shining. “You think so?” He asked softly, his answer being only a silent nod. He gave you a half smile and nodded back, dipping down to let your lips meet together.

“Then let’s give it a try.”

Your heart had leaped at his answer, the two of you giggling madly as his lips traveled down your neck. The conversation ended with the two of you deciding to just see where things go, not really doing anything to ensure anything but not exactly stopping it, either.

After some time you had started to feel unwell, chalking it up to stress in the current climate, the conversation you and Michael had being pushed completely to the back of your mind. You went weeks without taking a test, the sickness coming and going until Michael finally handed you the white and blue stick.

You had raised an eyebrow at him but went into the bathroom anyway, pacing back and forth in front of the sink as you waited for your answer. Michael had set it face down, the two of you biting the inside of your cheeks as the timer on your phone went off. Together you flipped it over, the answer you had been waiting for spelled out right in front of you.

The following months were filled with mixtures of emotions, the growing life inside of you quickly becoming the center of your lives. Michael insisted on taking a photo every month, his lips pressed firmly against your belly as Calum or Ashton would take the photo, a smile always on your face at the excitement he had over the arrival of your sweet babe.

At 6 months you were both in your best friend's wedding, a beaming smile as you stood behind her on her big day. The two of you joked about how you always knew you would be the pregnant one at her wedding, the drinks being poured for your other friends in your honor as you and Michael danced the night away. The wedding seemed to inspire something within him, his eyes glistening a bit differently as he twirled you around the dance floor.

“I love you,” he whispered, lips right beside your ear as he swayed with you. “And our little one. So much.”

You blushed and smiled, getting a little teary. “And I love you and our little one, too. So so much.”

The night continued on, the send off going off flawlessly and the two of you returning home. You both fell asleep right away, exhaustion hanging on every bit of you as you settled in.

At 7 months you had your baby shower, a bit later than you had wanted but with travel restrictions still being so complicated, you wanted to have time to get Michael’s mother and family there. While you had decided not to disclose the gender just yet, the party was filled with love and plenty of gifts for baby Clifford, everyone enjoying themselves with the games your best friend had helped you choose. Michael stuck by your side the entire time, ever the doting boyfriend as he checked in every so often, bringing you anything you needed and always being your helper when you needed to get up.

As it started to quiet down Michael seemed to get a bit jumpy, you having to call his name a couple times before he would appear beside you again, a nervous smile on his face as he would help you with whatever you needed. You had caught him in what seemed like a meeting with the boys, the four of them quickly talking over each other as they noticed you approaching, Michael seeming unbothered as he smiled at you. You just smiled back at him and let him kiss your forehead, your hands running over your belly as he kept you close.

About an hour after you walked in on that meeting Michael came over, helping you out of your chair and leading you to the backyard just in time to see the brilliant orange skies of Los Angeles, the sky taking your breath away as Michael chuckled.

“You’ve always loved sunsets,” he said softly, a light blush on your cheeks. “D’ya think little one will like them, too?”

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “I hope so,” you said softly, hand resting on top of your bump. You sensed Michael shifting beside you, the nervous energy around him making you raise an eyebrow as you faced him.

“What’s gotten into you today?” You asked softly, gently reaching up to get his attention. “You’ve been nervous all day…You’re not having second thoughts on this baby are you?”

Michael quickly shook his head. “No, no! Absolutely not,” he said, eyes dropping to the ground as he took a deep breath. “Just...nervous.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about?”

Your lover lifted his eyes and met your gaze, a chuckle escaping him as he pulled his hands into his pockets. “You know,” he started, stepping closer to you. “Ever since the day we met, I’ve been wildly and incredibly in love with you. It slammed into me like a ton of bricks, and even through our friendship, I knew that all I wanted was you. All I could ever want is and always will be you, my love.” He paused, smiling at you as you tried to wipe the tears from your eyes. “Now, with our little one almost here, I’ve come to realize that I couldn’t ever ask for anything else. I want to keep you and our family safe for the rest of our lives, so…” he trailed off, hands coming out of his pockets as he knelt down to one knee.

“Yes,” you said, Michael laughing.

“Hang on, let me ask the question!” He laughed, the ring emerging from his palm. “My love, my angel. Will you marry me?”

You laughed and nodded, repeating your answer as he took your hand. You sniffled as he stood, his hands cupping your cheeks as he chuckled.

“I love you,” he whispered, pressing your lips together in the sweetest kiss.

“And I love you,” you whispered back, your lover pressing his lips to your forehead as he tugged you close, your belly bumping his as you laughed.

The rest of the night was the two of you celebrating your engagement, your friends and family members all offering their congrats on everything. Once the night was over and your friends were helping you clean up you were shooed off to bed, Michael escorting you away as your friends all said goodnight.

The next couple of months were a whirlwind, you and Michael throwing yourselves into the project that was the baby’s nursery. Your due date crept closer and closer, each day without your bundle of joy in your arms making both of you impatient. Thanks to Google, you were able to try every old wives tale to induce labor, mixing it with bouncing on your yoga ball as you tried to urge your baby out.

Your due date came and went, your date for inducing being set for a couple of weeks out while Michael and you prepared for a maternity shoot with Andy and Sarah. While it was a bit late, you had decided you ultimately wanted photos done for the memories, although you and Michael had already decided you wanted another one by this point; Andy and Sarah were more than happy to provide the photos for you, taking you to a stunning location and taking every photo possible.

Unbeknownst to Michael, you had felt some contractions already, brushing them off as the Braxton-Hicks your OB had warned you about. However, midway through the photos, you felt a trickle down your leg, embarrassment already creeping over you as you thought you had peed yourself. However, very soon after a contraction rolled through you, causing you to bend over and hold your belly.

“Angel?” Michael asked, immediately reaching for your hand. “What’s going on?”

“Um,” you uttered, standing up straight as the pain passed. “My water just broke.”

Immediately his eyes went wide, your lover looking to Andy and Sarah in shock. The two of them quickly started packing up while Michael ushered you to the car, carefully helping you in and quickly driving back home to pack the hospital bags. While he was scrambling around you were timing everything, bouncing on your ball again as you did so in hopes of it lessening the pain.

Soon enough you were back in the car, the two of you racing to the hospital and checking in at seemingly lightning speed. Once you were admitted and connected to everything Michael was at your side, hand holding yours as waves of pain rolled over you, each one worse than the last. With the help of nurses the two of you walked around, Michael cheering you on as you got closer and closer to the birth.

Then, finally, after what felt like eons, it was time to push.

Michael was at your leg, holding it back as he kept his face close to yours. With every push he whispered his encouragement, telling you how great you were doing and how beautiful you were, and how proud he was of you as you both ushered a new life into the world. Soon enough you heard the first cries, tears streaming down both of your cheeks as the doctor quickly cut the cord.

“It’s a boy!”

You let out a choked sob as your son was placed on your chest, the flood of emotions washing over you as you reached up to touch your baby. To your surprise, Michael’s hand was already there, his face pink and covered in tears as he gazed at his first born.

A few hours later you were all taken care of, a couple nurses helping you tie your hair back while your baby was cleaned. They smiled as the door opened, a third nurse rolling in the little bed your baby was laid in, the boy sound asleep as he was placed right beside you. After checking in that you were okay the nurses left, finally leaving you and Michael alone with your son.

Michael walked over, looking at the baby with a smile on his face. He seemed to be holding himself back, his hand reaching out to gently drag a finger across his son’s cheek.

You watched him and smiled. “You can hold him,” you said softly. “I’m sure he wants his daddy.”

Michael met your gaze and blushed, smiling shyly as he nodded. Carefully he picked up the baby, holding him in his hands as he gazed at him in amazement. He moved to his seat and sat down, eyes never leaving the sleeping child in his arms.

“Hey, little man,” he said softly, your heart soaring at his gentle tone. He sniffled, his eyes filling with tears. “You know your daddy loves you? How perfect he thinks you are?”

It took everything within you to control your own tears, your hormones still all over the place. “We need to name him,” you said softly, Michael looking up at you.

He nodded, looking back at his son. “I’ve always loved the name Ashton,” he chuckled, making you laugh lightly.

“I like that name,” you answered. “But I think I like Colby more.”

He met your eyes and nodded. “Colby,” he said, trying it out as he looked back at the babe. “Colby Tyler Clifford.”

You beamed, nodding in agreement as Michael looked at you for approval. “Colby Tyler Clifford it is.”

Michael grinned and carefully shifted Colby, leaning over to kiss the knuckles on your hand. “Have you slept yet?” He asked you, the question a bit pointed.

You sighed, getting his point. “I should,” you answered, eyes on your baby. “Promise you’ll stay with us? And that you’ll wake me if anyone comes by?”

Michael chuckled and nodded, standing and shifting the baby as he leaned over, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I promise,” he whispered, noticing your eyes already closing as he pulled away.

Soon enough you were asleep, Michael pacing the room with your beautiful baby boy in his arms. He hummed little tunes as they came to his head, quietly singing lyrics to them as he focused solely on his son. Eventually he found his way back to his chair, still quietly singing as he heard a light knock on the door.

He looked up just as a nurse quietly stuck her head in the door, obviously noticing your sleeping form in the bed and waving him over.

“Hey,” she greeted, keeping her voice down as she noticed the babe in his arms. “When mama’s awake again we’ll get some paperwork and birth certificate over for you to sign, okay? And you guys have a visitor, they’re seated in the waiting room.”

He nodded, confused about the visitor but stepping out with the nurse. Colby stirred slightly in his arms, his little mouth opened in a yawn as his heart melted, doors opening for him as he stepped into the waiting room.

Immediately his eyes landed on Calum, his best friend standing from his chair the second their eyes met. He grinned at the bundle in his arms, his phone being tucked into his pocket as he stepped closer.

“Hey mate,” Michael greeted, voice quiet as he turned slightly. “Meet your godson, Colby Tyler.”

#michael clifford #5sos #michael clifford fluff #5sos fluff #dad!sos #blurbs.mc #dont come @ me for this ending #idk why i suck at endings lately #pregnancy tw #labor tw #pain tw

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 5 years ago

Text

Care

Bilbo Baggins x Reader

Bilbo gets sick :(

Throughout your time with the company of Thorin Oakenshield and friends, you've been the epitome of health. Well rested, able to run on little food and water, somehow always pretty clean, not cold all the often, and the works. Basically, you're just a generally very healthy person. And luckily for everyone else, you've got a little experience in medicine.

So when Bilbo suddenly falls sick, you're the perfect person for the job.

How did he get sick, you ask? Well...

One night during the trip after you went to bathe with Bilbo after everyone else was finished, you found that the water was quite a bit colder than you had been expecting.

You typically bathed at the same time as the hobbit for three reasons. One, he is ever the gentleman and wonderful conversational partner. Two, he can't stand bathing at the same time as those rambunctious rascals just as much as you. And three, neither of you are allowed to go by yourself since it's not safe so you need a buddy anyways. You can most certainly hold your own in a fight, and you've said as much, but they have very specific customs when it comes to females (being as less than 1/3 of their entire population is actually female, they hold them in very high regard and protect them a bit too much) and Bilbo is basically useless with his sword.

It was just a natural pair.

Anyways, the water was especially chilly that evening and though the thought of bathing in such glacial water wasn't appealing in the slightest, going on dirty until the next stream was ever less appealing, so you sucked it up and got in anyway.

You assume Bilbo felt the same way being as he complained a bit in the beginning, but other than a brief moment of displeasure, he showed no other signs of discontent.

The two of you washed with your backs facing each other as always, and when you were both nice and clean, you got out and dried as much as possible for getting dressed again. Changing into the same dirty clothes does dampen the effects of just washing, but you're grateful that you have the opportunity to wash in the first place.

When both of you were dressed and on your way back to the others, you noticed poor Bilbo had begun to shiver. You offered to give him your coat, but he only smiled shyly and said, "N-No, I'm quite alright. Thank you."

Yeah, he fuckin' lied.

The next morning you are disturbed by the sound of someone sneezing less than a foot away from you. Now just one sneeze wouldn't usually bother you, but this mans over here didn't sneeze once, twice, or even thrice. He sneezes 4 times in a row, all consecutively and right next to you.

It jolts you awake, and you turn your head quickly to see who it is when your eyes fall upon poor red-face Bilbo huddled up beneath his blankets.

You sit up sluggishly and push your blanket to the side, crawling over to his shivering and unwell form to see if he's running a fever or not. When you press the back of your hand to his forehead you recoil quickly at the heat that you feel. He's positively burning up.

Very quickly you grab your blanket, crumple it up, then place it beneath his head to act as a pillow. After, you drag over your bag and begin to go through it.

You take out your water skin and rip up one of your extra shirts and soak it with your water, then place the soaked fabric on his head to, hopefully, lower his temperature.

"Miss Y/N?" Someone calls from behind you, "What are you doing?"

It's still rather dark out, so whoever it is must be the morning watch.

You turn and see Ori who is sitting on a long by the edge of the big group in the middle.

"Oh, Ori thank god!" You wave him over, and as soon as he approaches you hand him your now empty waterskin, "I need you to go fill this up right now. Bilbo has a fever, but I've run out of water."

The young dwarf looks down at Bilbo worriedly then grabs the water holder you gave to him. "I'm on it." He runs off before you can say thank you.

You turn back to Bilbo and gently pull his blanket off and begin to pull off his velvety red coat.

The hobbit groans quietly and asks in a tired and weak voice, "What are you doing...?" His eyes open up a bit, but it seems to be quite the chore for him.

He seems to be pretty confused, so you give him a small reassuring smile and explain softly, "You're sick, Bilbo. I'm going to take off some of your layers so your fever doesn't rise, and I'm going to need you to drink lots of water."

It appears he's too fatigued and unwell to even question what you're telling him, so he just nods and lets his eyes close again.

With a little help from the blond hobbit, you finally manage to remove his jacket and begin to unbutton the front of his waistcoat.

"Mahal, Y/N! What do you think you're doing?!" Someone yells next to you suddenly.

God is everyone going to ask you that?

You glance back and see multiple confused, flustered, and uncomfortable eyes staring at you and Bilbo.

"If I had known I could get those kind of services from our healer, then-"

"You don't want to finish that sentence." You say darkly, looking at the jokester with a gaze so intense and furious that he doesn't even finish his statement.

In an attempt to ignore their obviously impure thoughts, you snap, "If you think I'm trying to taint the honor of your burglar then rest assured that my intentions lay elsewhere!" You finish unbuttoning his waistcoat, then reach up and test the coolness of the rag on his head. "Our hobbit is sick, so either make yourselves useful or sod off and leave us be." Your intention was not to be so harsh, but their implications made your blood boil.

"Y/N!" You hear Ori yell not too far off, "I've got the water!"

You wave him over and take the water skin from him appreciatively, "Thank you, sweet boy. You're much more commendable than your companions considering your first reaction was wondering how you could help ." You can't help but take a jab at them for their inappropriate behavior and horribly distorted assumptions, but this only makes you like Ori even more.

The young dwarf blushes at your praise and term of endearment but doesn't say anything else.

"Bilbo, my dear I need you to drink some water..." You explain in a soft voice, waiting for his nod of assent to start helping him.

When he does consent to your assistance in helping him drink, you place your hand under his curly blond head and lift it up slowly, lifting the lip of the water skin to his mouth in sync with your other motions.

"Here you go..." You whisper just as softly, hoping not to stir a headache within him.

He drinks the water in little sips, and when he pulls back you hand the water back off to Ori. "You're a doll, thank you. Where is Oin?" You ask abruptly, scooting forward and shifting to have Bilbo rest his head on your thighs so you can put your blanket to better use.

"When I walked into camp I saw him running off, saying something about Athelas and, er Kingsfoil."

"Okay, that's good. Kingsfoil and Athelas are the same thing. A healing plant." At least someone other than yourself and Ori has some sense in this damn company of buffoons. "You've helped me a great deal, Ori, so I give you my sincerest thanks."

It seems all of your praise and thanks have successfully made his day because when he walks off there is a little hop in his step.

You focus back on the poor suffering hobbit laying in your lap, a sympathetic expression on your face, "I knew I should've given you my coat, you stubborn little hobbit." You reach up and brush his hair out of his face, then take the wet cloth and squeeze it out. Once it's mostly rid of the now warm water, you re-wet it and return it to his still hot forehead.

"I'm sorry..." He mumbles when you recall his denial of your extra layers from last night. "I thought I was fine, really."

You shake your head, though he can't see it, and can't help the small smile that raises onto your face, "No, no sweetling don't apologize. Twas only a little bit of a rant. Please, just take a rest for me, alright?"

He nods his head once and relaxes again.

You run the back of your middle and forefinger down his cheek lightly, feeling slightly guilty that you didn't urge him to bundle up more last night.

Thorin makes his way over to you eventually and settles next to you. He doesn't say anything at first, so you just ignore him and stay focused on the sick hobbit.

"They meant not to offend you, Y/N. You know they think very highly of you." You still don't say anything, so he continues, "Of course, they should know better than to mess with such a fierce healer."

"I know that...," you can tell he's trying to smooth things over, probably because of the rage you exerted when addressing the lot of them, and strangely it kinda works, "I let my anger get the best of me, I'm afraid. I hope I did not hurt anyone else's feelings."

The dwarf chuckles at your concern for the feelings of the rest of them, "This is why you're a healer, I suppose, as opposed to an enforcer."

You look at him with confusion, not really picking up what he's putting down. "What?"

"Your forgiving and benign nature never ceases to impress me. Your ethics were challenged while you attempted to help, and even though you lost your temper, you still managed to help our burglar and forgive those fools." He says fools fondly, showing that he doesn't actually mean to insult them, "We are honored to have you with us."

With that, he stands and leaves you to take care of Bilbo once again.

"He's right you know." Bilbo's quiet voice comes from below.

You look down at him and see that his eyes are open and focused on you. "I thought I told you to rest." There is no accusation or annoyance in your voice, only concern and a bit of amusement.

"Well, yes but I... It's hard to sleep on command I suppose."

His defense is flimsy and not that believable, but you accept it nonetheless. "Alright, alright. Don't worry about it then, you don't have to be asleep to get rest."

You brush his hair up with your hand again and begin to lightly run your fingers through the shaggy mess of blond curls to get his mind off of the horrible feeling of sickness.

Bilbo hums appreciatively and lets his eyes slide shut once more, relishing in this pampering (since this trip hasn't left much room for a lavish lifestyle)

#cute #fluff #bilbo baggins #the hobbit bilbo #bilbo x reader #reader insert #reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #tolkien #the company of thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield #thorin durin #thorins company #fanfic

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jasontoddiefor · 5 years ago

Text

Title: I measure every Grief I meet

Summary: Batman arrives in time and Jason spends hours buried beneath his father’s corpse, crying and begging and bleeding before Alfred finally manages to contact someone to come bring them home. Ethiopia is a constant in most universes, but who dies isn’t written in stone.

AN: Y’all remember when I said I had big angst coming? This is it. Have fun!

There were three truths to being Robin.

1. You are the distraction. The hits they see coming but don’t expect to hurt. The bright light, the laughter and the joy.

2. You are half of a whole. Batman and Robin are a team, which is why you shouldn’t fly on your own.

And most importantly:

3. Batman will always catch you, no matter what.

Jason had held onto that last truth even when the Joker wouldn’t stop beating him and all he wanted to do was scream. His legs were on fire, the few steps he had taken had been worse than any beating he had endured before. Jason knew that once the adrenaline wore off, he wouldn’t be able to move them at all. All Jason wanted to was scream, or better yet, take the fucking crowbar and hit the Joker right back with it until he was lying on the floor, blood slowly collecting under his head-

But Jason couldn’t. He had to endure, had to save his energy until Bruce would come and get him.

He’d make it.

Jason knew he’d arrive.

Bruce always did.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Jason saw the Joker returning from the back of the warehouse. He tried to keep his breathing even like he hadn’t started struggling to push air in and out of his lungs hours ago. He wanted to shut his eyes, spare himself the sight of a future filled with broken bones, a blood-drenched uniform and pus covered lacerations. But Jason had to stay awake, stay aware. The moment he lost consciousness of what was done to him, he’d lose whatever advantage he still had.

Even if the said advantage was only knowing what weapon the Joker had taken to his bruised body. Instead of the anticipated object of torture, the Joker returned holding onto a coat. Instead of stopping beside Jason, he walked towards the entrance of the warehouse.

“Okay, kiddo, I gotta go,” the Joker began to speak. Jason noticed how rough and low his voice sounded. He’d never heard it so deep. Usually, it was as high-pitched and disorientating as nails on a blackboard, screeching birds, a violin played by a beginner.

“It’s been fun, alright. Well, maybe a smidge more fun for me than you.”

The Joker shrugged as if he were talking about daily trivialities. “I’m just guessing since you’re being awfully quiet.”

He watched Jason just a moment longer, his eyes too sharp, too calculating. There was madness in these green pits of poison, but it wasn’t the kind found before the jump into insanity. This was afterward, calculated unhingedness betting on sudden terrifying inspirations for an even more gruesome plan.

“Anyway! Be a good boy, finish your homework and be in bed by nine. And hey! Please tell the big man I said hello.”

The Joker finished putting on his coat. The jarring of the door mashed with the Joker’s laughter, the sound still echoing in the silence that followed.

Jason allowed himself two short breaths, then he rolled backwards to get on his feet. His… everything protested vividly with pinpricks against him moving. He managed two wonky steps forwards before crashing to the ground again. His body begged for rest, but the door was right there. Jason just had to keep moving forward.

He’d get out of this.

He would go home and apologize to Alfred for running away without another word. Ask Babs to teach him that cool kick she did on their last joined patrol. Call Dick and tell him he’d like to just hang out sometime and try out this whole siblings package that came with being Bruce Wayne’s son.

Jason would go back home and hug his Dad and promise to never ever take on such a dumb and dangerous risk headfirst again. He’d honor the ‘you’re worth more than the mission,’ whispered at his bedside when Bruce thought Jason was asleep.

Hot tears ran over Jason’s cheeks. He lifted his right arm and pushed himself forward. Then he moved his left arm, bare skin scraping over the dirty floor of the warehouse. One arm after another, Jason slowly crawled towards his freedom.

It’s a trap, his ever vigilante sub-consciousness whispered. It sounded like a starved child begging for food on the streets. The Joker’s right behind that. He’s waiting for you. He’ll grab your ankles and drag you back inside again and laugh and laugh and laugh.

He didn’t slow down.

Jason was choking on his own spit and blood, but he didn’t dare stop even for a second longer than necessary. The way over to the door took ages so that he could hardly believe it when he actually made it. Reenergized, Jason jogged the door handle, but it didn’t move.

The door didn’t open.

Hysteria bubbled up in his mind, emerging from his throat as barely contained whimpers. He just wanted out, he wanted to go home.

Sobbing, Jason leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Everything would be alright. He was still here, but the Joker wasn’t. Bruce would find him in no time. He was Batman. They were a team. They didn’t- shouldn’t leave each other behind.

And if not for that fucking ticking noise, Jason would be able to focus on that as well, instead of crying like a child. The noise kept distracting him, reminding him painfully of every second passing away while Jason had to wait for rescue. Like the world’s most annoying countdown, the ticking continued.

Jason opened his eyes and turned his head so fast that he became nauseous.

A small black box covered in tape and wires was lying innocently on the wooden boxes to Jason’s left.

Tick. Tock.

A Bomb.

There wasn’t even a minute left until it would blow up. It would set the sky ablaze, burn everything in reach to ashes and Jason-

20.

Jason was right in the middle of it.

17.

He’d die.

15.

Bruce would be too late and he’d die.

13.

The door to Jason’s right crashed open. A shadow, tall, dark, imposing and so familiar.

“Jay, son-“

“Bomb!” Jason screamed and Bruce didn’t even bother to search for it. He pulled Jason close and began to run. The warehouse and the bomb to their back. Jason’s head was resting in the crook of Bruce’s neck.

He exhaled.

Fire torched the earth.

Jason’s ears were ringing.

Everything was silent, yet the screaming in his head wouldn’t stop. It assaulted his mind like the crescendo of an untuned violin. Small fires crawled over the remains of the warehouse to his right. The flames must be cracking, whispering of destruction, but all Jason heard was the terrifying emptiness of a high-pitched whirring.

Jason coughed and tried to push air into his lungs, but all that seemed to slip in was ashes. The air smelled of burned flesh and the weight on his chest made it impossible to move.

“B?” Jason rasped.

He needed Bruce to get off. They had to start going; staying close to explosion sites was dangerous, especially in their condition. Bruce would have to carry Jason. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take another step on his own. Bruce had shielded him with his body, but the shock from the fall to the harsh ground hadn’t improved Jason’s wounds either.

“Batman?” Jason tried again. “We need to move.”

Jason could barely make out his own words. He knew he was moving his mouth and his tongue, so he must be making words. Why wasn’t Bruce reacting? “Batman!”

Silence still. Terror seized control of Jason’s voice.

“Bruce, please, wake up.”

He didn’t know what to do. Jason could count the times Bruce hadn’t been able to act on one hand, and then he had been mind-controlled, or sick. Not like this. Unmoving. The smell of burned flesh. As still as the dead-

Jason’s heartbeat accelerated, he thought his heart was about to claw itself out of his ribcage.

“Dad,” he said. “Dad, please. Wake up. I need you to wake up, don’t leave me here alone. Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry, please. I promise. Wake up. Wake up, wake up. Dad, please, wake up-”

Jason woke up in a hospital. The smell of antiseptics stung in his nose and his throbbing head made it difficult to open his eyes.

The world was silent.

Jason had been to plenty hospitals since he had been adopted. Bruce supported many hospitals, if not all of Gotham’s clinics, and took to visiting regularly. Jason had tagged along whenever he’d felt like it. Most of the time, he would sneak away to the children’s wing and done cartwheels for the youngest – or snuck in sweets and snacks that were better than the gross cafeteria food.

In all his visits, though, even on the intensive care station, the hospital had never been this silent.

Jason forced himself to open his eyes, and to his relief, his sight wasn’t immediately assaulted by bright white light. His room was as dark as night in Gotham with plenty of shadows that looked just vaguely human enough to scare you. The curtains were drawn and the only source of light was the TV in the corner, running the news from what he could tell.

Vicky Vale stood in front of a building Jason recognized as the Wayne Enterprises' main office. More people surrounded the plaza around it, bringing flowers, candles and balloons.

Jason must be in Gotham again. When had that happened? He’d been in Ethiopia with Bruce just before-

A sharp pain exploded in Jason’s head and he instinctively raised his hands to massage his head, an action his ribs immediately protested against.

Bruce.

He had to go check on him. Surely he was close. He was always there when Jason felt unwell. Jason had woken up so often at night with Bruce asleep at his bedside. He was probably just down the hallway.

Jason pushed the blanket off his bandage covered legs and tentatively sat his feet on the ground. He didn’t have any crutches, but the IV stand would do as well. He braced himself for pain when he shifted his weight to his feet, but thankfully only a dull numbness greeted him. Given his injuries, Jason knew standing shouldn’t be so easy. They must have given him the good stuff.

Jason gritted his teeth and took his first step. He hated painkillers.

Soon enough, Jason opened the door and reached the busy hall of the hospital. People were chatting away, running around, moving.

Jason couldn’t hear a thing, nothing but a very low rumble he wasn’t sure he was just imagining.

One of the nurses spotted him and began talking, but Jason still couldn’t make out any sounds.

“Where’s my Dad?” He said, or perhaps he shouted instead. In his panic, it might have been either or both, Jason couldn’t tell.

The nurse kept talking, moving towards him, so Jason took a step back. “Where is he!?”

There was a hand on his shoulder and Jason, all injuries be damned to hell and back, was ready to flip whoever was playing this fucked up prank on him. His hand was already at the other’s wrists, and if he hadn’t turned around in the last second, he would have followed through with it too.

“Alfred.”

Seeing Alfred amidst the chaos washed all tension off Jason’s shoulder.

“Alfred, what’s going? Where’s Bruce- Alfie?”

Alfred looked so tired, exhausted beyond his years. He had always been an unmoving constant in Jason’s world. The closest they’d get to immortality without Ra’s al Ghul he had joked with Bruce. For the first time since Jason had seen Alfred, there was nothing graceful about the butler’s age. He looked exhausted in the same way Bruce did when the two of them had to bury another child after a long night.

Alfred’s mouth moved and words must be coming out.

“I can’t hear you,” Jason said, desperation clinging to him. “Why can’t I hear you?”

Alfred was silent.

They went back into Jason’s room and soon after a doctor came to them. She was holding a tablet and typed out what she was saying, painstakingly slowly in Jason’s opinion. He’d been here for two days already apparently and went through a lot of surgery. They’d take him down to another station to get his ears checked out now.

“Where’s Bruce?”

Jason made sure to speak slowly, pronounce every syllable correctly without Crime Alley’s drawls. Maybe they all just couldn’t understand him properly. He felt as if he had asked this question a thousand times already. He just wanted to see his dad.

Alfred’s face was ashen and he put an arm around Jason’s shoulder.

Jason didn’t get it.

And then, when he read Alfred’s message on the tablet, he thought he had forgotten how to read as well.

Master Bruce had already passed by the time you were brought to the hospital.

Jason’s shoulders trembled and he began to laugh. High-pitched, he assumed, but he couldn’t tell because he couldn’t hear and couldn’t read too apparently because his dad wasn’t dead.

Batman couldn’t die.

It was Superman who had found them, supposedly.

Jason didn’t recall anything but his own pitiful begging until his tears had exhausted him and he had let himself be welcomed by the merciful emptiness.

They’d been kidnapped by the Joker.

[Lie: Jason had gone to the warehouse by himself.]

They had managed to escape.

[Truth: They had been outside.]

They had been caught by the blast.

[Truth: The heat hadn’t touched Jason but it had melted the Batsuit to Bruce’s skin, scorched his skin black.]

Superman had come across them by chance.

[Lie: Alfred had taken an hour until he had been able to connect to a League member. And then another thirty minutes until Clark Kent could get to them.]

Jason had been unconscious when they had been found.

[Truth: He had spent 83 minutes and 47 seconds buried in-between rubble and his father’s corpse, breathing in ashes and blood. He’d been awake for almost all of it, choking on his tears and his words.]

Jason was lucky. He was alive.

[Lie: He woke up with nightmares, words on his tongue he couldn’t speak. It said “Sensorineural Hearing Loss” on the white paper sheet the doctor had handed Alfred, but all Jason really saw punishment befitting the crime. He hadn’t listened. Now he wouldn’t ever hear again.]

Bruce Wayne was dead.

[Truth: Gotham was mourning, pouring flowers and light all over the streets for its favorite son. They didn’t even know yet that Batman was gone too.

And so was Robin.]

When Dick stepped onto the Watchtower, he was capital P Pissed. The Titans weren’t the League’s children’s club they could order around like they wanted. Dick knew the League respected them, but this first generation of heroes only ever acknowledged their boundaries when it benefited them. This was why Dick had left Gotham in the end.

Bruce could be proud of him as much as he wanted, but as long as he still expected Dick to come each time he called and follow every other like a perfect little soldier, there was nothing left in Gotham for Dick.

He had practiced his speech on the entire way back. He’d give Bruce a piece of his mind, maybe force the League to stick to some kind of regulations.

The words were stuck in his throat the moment he saw Superman.

No matter what, Clark Kent was always a rock you could lean on. He carried so much weight on his shoulders and rarely let anyone see his weaknesses. Bruce had called his behavior foolish and necessary at the same time.

Dick was vaguely aware that if there was anyone Clark confided in, it had to be Bruce. The thought that Clark must have terrible days too had never really occurred to Dick.

Clark looked grim, and so did the rest of the League.

Founders meetings didn’t happen very often since the heroes were already busy enough. Yet there all of them were, with the notable exception of Batman.

“What happened?” Dick asked.

It was Wonder Woman who spoke up first. “Two weeks ago, Robin and Batman confronted the Joker in Ethiopia. The Joker managed to escape and has so far escaped the League’s grasp. Robin has been severely injured, but is recovering steadily.”

Dread filled Dick’s thoughts. “And Batman?”

Diana stood up and walked over to Dick, taking his hands into hers as she had always done when he was young, walking around the Watchtower while Bruce was in surgery.

“Batman passed away on the 27th of April. We tried to reach you faster. His funeral is today.”

There were paparazzi everywhere. They were screaming his name, trying to get his attention, and Dick tried to block them all out. Kori squeezed his hand and helped him move forward. His side was still hurting from the battle he’d been in hours ago. All of it felt so surreal and fake.

Dick had seen Bruce injured plenty of time, but he had never expected those injuries to mean anything besides a little more physical therapy and another disapproving look from Alfred.

Dick knew death - it was a part of their lives.

He didn’t expect it to ever haunt him personally again. Not like this.

(He had healed before hadn’t he? Those wounds had closed, yet here they were again: wide open.)

They had reserved the first rows for family and friends. If Alfred looked bad, Jason looked downright horrible. He was sitting in a wheelchair, makeup partially hiding bruises and scars. He hadn’t bothered to cover up the bags under his eyes. Babs and the Commissioner were at the front, as well as Oliver. Dick could spot Selina in the crowd and various other Justice League members in civilian uniform. From the Kane family, only Kate had shown up, wearing a suit. Her hair was as bright as Dick remembered it from the last time he had seen her.

His relationship with Kate had always been strange. She wasn’t that much older than him, but Bruce had always treated her differently. She was his cousin and Dick was his-

Dick bit on his lips. He wanted to look at anything else. Everything but the closed casket in front of him.

He failed.

He needed to check the autopsy files later, see what had actually happened. The League’s report hadn’t even scratched the surface.

The music began to play and everybody stood up.

Dick would go to the Batcave and search for an explanation. Something about this didn’t add up in his mind and he would figure it out.

Jason didn’t know what the hell all the people were talking about. He didn’t even know why so many people were at the funeral. The family’s circle of friends hadn’t been all that big. Most of these people were only here for their own benefit. After all, they hadn’t been there when Bruce had-

When he-

They hadn’t been there.

Never mind Dick who looked like he was paying about as much attention to it all as Jason. Jason had excuses at least. He couldn’t hear what was going on, wouldn’t for a while longer until his ears healed the little bit they might still, and he’d get hearing aids. Jason had already cried plenty for his father. Screamed and raged too, threw books against the wall and hoped he would grow satisfied by seeing everything crash and burn.

He’d only felt horrible afterward, cried because he had damaged the Anne of Green Gables book Bruce’s mother had bought decades ago and Bruce had entrusted to him.

This funeral was useless. Jason had never been to a funeral, he only knew where his mother, where Catherine Todd, was buried thanks to Bruce researching it. Jason hadn’t been involved in her funeral. He had been searching through trash cans, looking for food.

He should have stayed in Crime Alley.

He ruined everything he touched.

The Cave welcomed Dick home. The familiar moving shadows embraced him, eyes watched his back and the low whirring of the Bat-Computer powering up echoed in his ears. Kori had gone back to the Titans after the funeral, they needed her more than Dick did at the moment. He would have gone with her too if he’d gotten access to the Cave immediately. But Alfred had decided to be difficult about it all. He had pretty much outright forbidden Dick from going down to the Cave. It was only after Alfred had gone out with Jason a week later to get the kid his hearing aids that Dick could finally sneak it.

Because of course he had to hack the system to get access. Damn Alfred’s paranoia.

Dick had spent many hours in the Cave, but he’d never really been alone for long. To know that he really was the only person here was strange, to say the least.

Quickly, Dick headed for the Batcomputer and opened the archive. He searched for the files that set up this whole Ethiopia mess. If there was one thing Dick had to be thankful for considering his vigilante upbringing, it was the many hours Bruce had spent with him, teaching him how to organize exactly. Bruce was a neat freak, and his own files were all categorized per date, case, duration, participants, crime and so on. Dick used a similar if slightly simplified filing system and had more or less forced his teammates to adapt to it.

Dick grinned triumphantly when he found the beginning of this particular case. He’d have to cross-reference it with the undercover cases later on to figure out what Bruce needed to disappear for.

Dick knew he and Bruce weren’t exactly on speaking terms right now, but he’d thought that for instances such as faking the death of your civilian persona, he’d have gotten a note, a call, anything.

Emotionally stunted as Bruce was, he wouldn’t just disappear on Dick like that.

He’d promised Dick.

The more Dick read, the more confused he became. Where was the hidden plot?

Groaning, Dick pushed himself away from the Batcomputer and marched over to the cabinet with the paper files. It was impossible to hack the computer unless you were Barbara Gordon, but Bruce still kept some of the critical data on paper so that you needed access to the Cave to read those files, and the Cave could withstand WW3. If there was anything more profound to it all, then surely the secret had to be hidden in-between these documents.

Dick carefully combed through the different cases, forced himself to read on where Bruce’s elegant handwriting turned into short chicken-scratches. More often than he expected, Dick had to stop and go to the mats, burn away the images of torn-apart bodies, thin children with no clothes, and horror stories of Gotham’s dirty streets. Dick had known that Gotham could be this cruel, but Bruce had never let him see these cases.

At the very end of the pile, Dick had to admit that there was nothing on these blood-stained pages that explained Bruce’s actions.

Frustrated, Dick went back to the computer to check the recordings. He still hadn’t gone through all the audio files because he usually didn’t have the patience to sit down and listen for a longer duration. And most of the time, the audios were pretty useless as well.

Dick dropped back into the massive chair in front of the computer. It was big and comfortable, he’d fallen asleep in it when he was younger and waiting up for Bruce to return home. He’d always woken up in his bed the next morning.

Dick opened up the file and it began to play.

“Bomb!”

Static.

“Jay, Jay, you’re okay-“

And the rain started pouring.

The manor was loud when Alfred and Jason returned. After the two weeks of mostly total silence, every sound had Jason jumping at his own shadows. His hearing aids worked as well as they could, though Jason still had troubles with certain sounds. Alfred had suggested visiting Lucius in the next days, have him take a look at them.

Jason thought he was comfortable hiding away in his room for the foreseeable future, but before he could voice such thoughts, Alfred was ushering Jason into the kitchen.

It had been a quiet, peaceful May day outside. Sunshine warmth and bird songs.

Alfred wanted to make him a hot chocolate either way and Jason was sure it was more for Alfred’s sake than Jason’s own. He wondered if drinking the hot beverage in silence was their thing. Instead of talking, they hid away in the kitchen, drowning their sorrows in sweetness as the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

The kitchen was already occupied when they entered.

“Master Dick,” Alfred said, his tone almost wary.

Jason didn’t know what for. Dick had stayed away from everyone in the past weeks. Or he had stayed away from Jason at least, and in such a big and empty house, Jason was pretty much everyone. If Dick wanted to join them for dinner now, it wasn’t Jason’s place to protest.

(Though there were several things on Jason’s mind he wanted to scream at him.)

“I’ll be making hot chocolate for Master Jason and I, and I prepared lasagna for dinner. Will you be joining us?”

Dick's eyes were blue.

Barbara had made jokes about it. It had been Jason’s first time meeting Batgirl and he’d tried to impress her with a rather amateur flip. She’d smiled at him regardless.

“Gosh, B!” She had said. “Are you sure you’re not cloning yourself to get such a talented little Robins?”

Dick’s eyes weren’t blue anymore. They were stormy gray, tidal waves and hurricanes, rage, and anger.

“You’re the reason Bruce is dead,” Dick said.

His face was impassive, but his look made Jason freeze up on the spot.

“Master Dick-“

“He wouldn’t be dead, if not for you,” Dick continued, now rising to his full height.

Jason used to wonder how people could be intimidated by the ever-smiling, joyful and perfect Dick Grayson.

He didn’t anymore.

“I-“

“You got my Dad killed!” Dick shouted and lunged forward, his hands at Jason’s collar.

Not even Alfred’s shocked protests could drown out the sounds of explosions in Jason’s head because Dick was right. Jason had been stupid and reckless and only he was to blame that the two of them were orphans once more.

“I know,” he said when he finally found his voice again. Dick was still caught up in his righteous fury. “It’s my fault. I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t- I’m-“

Dick let go of him and stormed out of the room.

Alfred stayed with Jason, put his hands on his back and let him cry into his neck, all while whispering sweet but useless reassurances into Jason’s ears.

He knew he was to blame.

(He wished it would have been him too.)

When Dick could finally feel again, he was halfway across Gotham in his Nightwing suit.

Bruce was dead.

He was dead, dead, dead deaddeaddead-

He had promised. Bruce had promised that he’d never leave Dick. He wouldn’t die, he wouldn’t make Dick bury another parent. Oh god, he had buried his father, Bruce’s burned body had been in that coffin, Dick had just stood there and watched as they killed his father a second time because he hadn’t known-

“Breathe, Dick. Look at me. Dick, can you hear me?”

Dick wanted to throw out another cheap line about hearing. He wasn’t the Robin who had lost his hearing. He’d only lost his father, his wings, the one person who’d always catch him, be it when he was falling from chandeliers or buildings. Even when they had been separated by different cities, Dick had been aware of Bruce’s shadow lingering somewhere nearby.

“Dick, son, are you alright?”

“No,” Dick replied. “I’m not okay, Uncle Clark.”

Dick held onto Superman’s cape. Clark’s heartbeat was a slow and steady one, grounding.

“I know. It’s alright.”

“It’s not. He’s really gone, isn’t he? Bruce is dead. And I wasn’t fast enough. I shouldn’t have left him or Gotham. I could have stopped this. If I’d been-“

“Here? Faster?”

Dick slowly let go of Clark. He wanted to rub his eyes, wash away the tear stains, but he couldn’t. Years of being told to never take off his mask had stuck.

“It wasn’t your fault, Dick,” Clark said. “You couldn’t have known. You weren’t even on-planet. Don’t blame yourself.”

No, Dick couldn’t have known. But he should have. He and Bruce had been partners, even if Dick had left to stretch his wings and Bruce had brought Jason in – he’d still been Dick’s partner. If not for Jason, Bruce wouldn’t have gotten into this situation in the first place, but Dick couldn’t change the premise. That too was a lesson Bruce had taught him early on.

You cannot change the situation, only the players.

So who had been there, or rather, who hadn’t?

Alfred must have suffered terribly at the other end of the comm. Line. Listening to his son’s last words trying to organize a rescue-

Dick tensed.

“Look, if there’s anything you need-“

“You said you were listening,” Dick interrupted softly. He had screamed his throat sore just hours ago in the Cave. “You promised, Clark. You said you always had an ear on my father’s heartbeat and you didn’t.”

What was the Justice League even for if they weren’t there for each other? A whole world to protect and they couldn’t even keep one of their own safe.

“Dick-“

Dick turned around and stared into the black void of Crime Alley beneath him. He couldn’t look into Clark’s face anymore. See his worry and pity and guilt. He should have just been faster instead.

“Go away, Superman. Your kind isn’t welcome in Gotham.”

Dick jumped.

And for the first time in years, he was wondering how he’d reach the ground.

Jason fucking hated his hearing aids. He hated a lot of things recently starting with his pain medication, the press and the fact that Gotham still seemed to be holding her breath even though it was all over already. Bruce was dead, and so was Batman.

He didn’t know what everyone was waiting for anymore.

Jason dragged himself out of his bed and room for lunch. Alfred insisted that they ate together, what for Jason didn’t know. He wouldn’t be able to sit in the same room and cook a meal for his son’s murderer.

(Because that was what he ought to call himself.)

Dick hadn’t returned to the manor in the past weeks or, if he had, Jason hadn’t seen him. The past had proven once already that he wasn’t the most observant person or a good judge of character.

Jason sighed when he reached the top of the staircase. He hated walking them up and down every day, but he wouldn’t tell Alfred about it. Jason was causing enough trouble as it was.

Once he reached the bottom, he sat down for another few minutes to catch his breath. He’d lowered his medication dosage and was paying for it now. He just wanted to get off them as soon as possible. He hated taking the little white pills, they brought up too many ugly memories.

Jason continued on to the kitchen. They didn’t eat in the dining room anymore, Jason didn’t know why.

Maybe the table was just too big for them.

When Jason stepped into the kitchen, the smell of burned flesh assaulted him. He couldn’t even make it to the sink. He just toppled over and threw up right on the kitchen tiles. He heaved until his stomach was empty and only fluids crawled up his throat. Alfred’s hands were on Jason’s back, but they weren’t enough.

“Everything will be alright, lad. Breathe with me, Jason.”

But he couldn’t.

He just kept on hoping for air when he was drowning in the deep waters.

Alfred tried to make Jason go see a therapist.

Jason thought it was stupid and promptly voiced it. He hadn’t meant to start shouting, but by the time he had realized what he’d done, it was already too late.

Alfred didn’t bring it up again, but he gave Jason access to the Cave again.

Jason hadn’t been in there since before Ethiopia and he only got as far as the first case holding the Batman suit.

(He didn’t throw up again, but it was a close call.)

He had hurried back upstairs, nearly running past Bruce’s bedroom. He hadn’t meant to stop and stare, but he couldn’t help himself. Slowly Jason opened the door. He knew the door usually screeched every time you moved it. Bruce hadn’t wanted to oil the hinges because it alerted him whenever someone opened the door. Jason had thought the explanation was bullshit, but Bruce had been awake every time Jason had crawled into his bed at night.

The sheets smelled like they always did.

Jason woke up screaming.

Maybe hiding away in Barbara’s Clocktower was cowardly, but Dick didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t return to the manor, despite Alfred’s many unanswered calls and voice messages. Barbara hadn’t said anything against him staying with her either, yet. She had handed him a pillow and a blanket, pointed him into the direction of the sofa and that was it. While she worked, Dick did coffee runs, cooked, cleaned or spent hours staring at the ceiling like it could tell him what is next step should be.

And every night, without fail, Dick put on his suit and headed outside, chasing crime out of Gotham’s streets and venting his frustrations.

He knew he shouldn’t go out when he was so full of rage, but he didn’t know how to stop.

(Bruce used to be the one who decided that they should have a movie night every time Dick was too angry for patrol. He hadn’t noticed it as a kid, but now Dick knew what his father had been doing and he missed those times.)

“Are you staying?” Barbara asked one morning when he returned.

Dick was still wearing his suit, his hair was shiny because of how much he had been sweating.

“What?”

Barbara didn’t look away from her many screens. She was calculating something, observing Arkham on another screen, Blackgate on another, and the listening device was recording a conversation and sending it straight to her server.

“Are you staying in Gotham or returning to Blüdhaven? I need to know so I can script patrol routes accordingly.”

The question caught Dick off-guard. “I don’t know.”

“Then make up your mind.”

Dick threw his hands up in the air. “Can’t I get just five minutes to think about it?”

His tone must have been harsher than he had intended. When Barbara turned around, she looked downright murderous. Her auburn hair appeared to be on fire with the light of the screens behind her. Dick had never believed that her injury would interfere with her capability to be an absolute terror. Still, he had never expected to be at the receiving end of her righteous fury.

“You’ve had more than five minutes already, Dick. You’ve had hours, days, weeks. I need to know now so I can start setting up an actual working system for Gotham!”

“What gave you the right-“

“What gave me the right!?” She interrupted him. “I’m Oracle. Bruce left his city to me. I’m supposed to know it all and right now I’m the only reason Gotham hasn’t been devoured by gang wars already, but I don’t know how long I can keep this up when working with uncertainties. Tell me now if you’re staying or leaving so that I can do my work.”

She was breathing heavily and her eyes, though her glasses hid it well, were red-rimmed. When he thought of it, Dick had never seen Barbara sleep in the past weeks.

“I-“ He glanced at her screens. There was a robbery going on in City Hall. “I need to go.”

Dick fled.

Nightwing caught the robbers still in the act. He quickly knocked them out and put them into cuffs. The police would arrive in the next fifteen minutes, Dick was sure. The night was as clean as it could be in Gotham, and with summer underway, Dick didn’t need to feel bad for leaving the robbers right there on the ground.

Dick had perhaps apprehended the robbers in a much harsher way than he could have, but he was just so angry. He wanted something to hurt. Others, his hands, his heart – he didn’t care as long as he was feeling anything that wasn’t the dark pit clawing itself open with razor-sharp nails.

Dick moved further south, as far away from the Clocktower, the manor, the Cave, the Grave as he could. He hadn’t patrolled in Gotham in such a long time, every change caught him off-guard. Not all of them were massive, but Dick expected a house where there was none or empty space where there now rested a small playground. When Dick reached the docks, he was almost thankful that the old warehouses were still standing. Some of them had been torn down to make space for newer ones, but the oldest was still standing. Dick had fond memories of falling asleep its rusty roof while the sun rose and Bruce was sitting next to him.

He had always woken up in his bed again, except for the times Bruce also hadn’t made it up to Dick’s room again and had just let Dick fall asleep next to Bruce.

Gotham’s sunrises were beautiful. The polluted air made the colors all that more vibrant. Almost neon. The prettiest there were.

Nobody would carry him back to his room.

His father was dead and Dick hadn’t had the chance to apologize to Bruce and come home again.

He should have never left Gotham.

When Dick fucking finally showed his face again, he looked just as angry and grim as the last time Jason had seen him. There was a different edge to it though, the same kind of exhaustion Jason had been able to trace in Bruce’s face after bad nights.

Jason had taken to working on his homework in the Cave. Up in the manor, he couldn’t concentrate. Everything looked so normal like nothing had changed, like Jason hadn’t brought everything down crashing.

In the Cave, surrounded by the familiar smell of sweat, machinery and leather, Jason could breathe and focus. He caught up on schoolwork he’d missed, vowed to excel at it for the praise he’d never hear again. Dick suddenly showing up there wasn’t part of the plan.

Alfred hadn’t allowed Jason to drop the speech therapy. Jason frankly speaking didn’t see the point of it. He already knew the basics of ASL and with the adjustments Lucius had made to his hearing aids, Jason was alright. The world wasn’t silent anymore, even if it wasn’t as loud and clear as it used to be, but Jason could make up for it. He’d managed on the streets with broken bones, bruised ribs and scraped knees.

He didn’t understand how meeting with some lady with eyes filled with pity was supposed to improve anything – or what the point of going to that equally stupid children’s group was. He didn’t fucking want to interact with any of them and he most definitely didn’t want to be stuck there for two hours every Saturday. He could be using his time more productively, studying, researching, tracking that fucking clown down since the Justice League was apparently too god damn incompetent.

Jason didn’t need any help.

He wasn’t just born with a mistake, he was the fucking mistake. It would be better for everyone if they stopped trying to fix it and just left him alone.

Dick didn’t know what the hell Jason was doing in the Cave. He had no right to be there, but since Alfred was apparently letting him in there, Dick couldn’t kick him out either. And the brat was stubborn. He glared at Dick every time he entered the Cave, but Dick’s presence obviously wasn’t enough to make him leave or speak up.

The kid was just always there, observing, judging.

It was worse than Barbara’s anger when Dick had returned to her to apologize – after a week of sleeping in Bruce’s safe houses. She had been right. Dick needed to step up and act to protect what he had abandoned. During the night, he refamiliarized himself with Gotham. He needed to know every corner, every territory, every gang and very loose brick if he wanted to do as he once did: fight and bleed for this city.

Batman’s absence had shifted Gotham’s carefully crafted balance into disorder. The Rogues were careful still, but soon enough Batman would have been gone too long for them to still care about repercussions. They would just lash out and injure whoever their closest target was.

None of this would have happened if Dick hadn’t left. He needed to fix it, try to stitch up the bleeding wound of Bruce’s absence. He could do it. He had to.

Bruce used to believe in him.

Dick hoped that despite his own flaws, his father had never stopped.

It wasn’t easy to pull up the schematics of the batsuit, but it got more bearable with every word Dick read. Bruce had made a lot of changes since Dick had been Robin, continually improving his armor. A lot of it wouldn’t work for Dick, his fighting style was too different, but he too could adjust. He owed it to Bruce.

The cape had to be shorter, the armor lighter.

Time to get to work.

Jason hadn’t known what Dick was doing in the Cave, not until Dick had asked Alfred for help. The butler wasn’t pleased with whatever Dick was attempting – probably something stupid – but he was still helping him, if reluctantly. It reminded Jason of the times he and Bruce had snuck away from galas to go on patrol.

“Do you think it will hold up?” Dick asked Alfred. Jason watched them out of the corner of his eyes, tried to make it seem like he wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying. They were a little out of his reach, it sucked that he couldn’t hear them. He should look into tweaking his hearing aids, giving himself a broader range, he thought as he subtly moved closer to the conversation.

“It should,” Alfred replied. “Though, I’m not sure you’ll be able to fool Gordon.”

Dick snorted. “There’s no fooling him. He knows exactly who we are. He just lies because he’s a cop and all cops lie. He’s just one of those who knows what the line should be.”

And then Dick picked something up from the table. Long and dark fabric fell to the ground, the bat-symbol reflected the light it caught.

It was a batsuit. A new one.

“No.”

Jason didn’t notice he had said it out loud until Alfred and Dick both turned to him. Jason stood up from his chair and walked over to Alfred and Dick. Dick might have the advantage of years of training, but he hadn’t been forced to steal for his survival. Jason snatched the uniform right out of his hands.

“Hey!”

“You don’t deserve this,” Jason hissed. “You have no right to walk in here and put on his mark again!”

With every word Jason said, his voice grew louder, stronger, more resolute.

Dick’s storm returned full force and he stood up straighter. “Now, you, listen to me-“

“No! Fuck you!” Jason didn’t back down, not this time. He knew he was a screw-up, but Richard John Look At Me I Can’t Do No Fucking Wrong Grayson didn’t get to pretend he wasn’t. “You walked out of this and you don’t get to come back. The only person who can allow that is dead and you don’t fucking get to wear his uniform. You’re not Batman! You can’t be!”

“And you can!?” Dick shouted back.

His wrath was impressive, but Jason wouldn’t let him take this away from him. He would fight and bleed and suffer if that meant that Dick wouldn’t ever touch a uniform.

“You don’t belong in Gotham, traitor!”

“And you don’t belong in the manor!”

“Master Jason! Master Dick!”

Right now, Jason couldn’t care less about what Alfred had to say. He had vowed to protect Gotham and all the treasures left behind. He didn’t care about what happened to him, but nobody would tarnish Batman’s legacy with cowardice and weakness. Not as long as he was still standing.

“Fuck you, Grayson! Bruce chose me!”

Maybe he wouldn’t have if he knew what it would lead to. Or perhaps he would because Bruce had sat at Jason’s bedside, read for him, made him breakfast, didn’t get mad when Jason accidentally broke expensive vases or put stickers on the ancient wooden floors.

“He was my dad too and he wanted me. He was mine and you don’t get to take him away.”

Then, before Dick could think of a reply, Jason quickly ran off towards the stairs, the suit still in hand. He’d throw it in the trash, ruin it and ensure nobody could ever wear it.

Jason didn’t even manage step one of his plan. As soon as he was out of the Cave, he blindly ran upstairs, planning to cut his path to the kitchen short, but unfortunately, Jason still wasn’t healed completely, and not as fast as he knew he could be.

Dick caught up to him and gripped his shoulder when Jason was going at full speed. Jason fell backward, tumbling right into Dick’s chest.

“What the hell, Dickface!?” Jason shouted, he clutched the uniform as tight as he could, but Dick was stronger. He jacked it out of Jason’s hands like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Now you listen,” Dick said.

Jason looked up, ready to stare straight at a tidal wave of fury, persist and tear it down, but Dick’s face was blank. No anger, nothing.

“You don’t know anything about Bruce and me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jason challenged. “I know plenty-“

“You know nothing,” Dick replied, his voice tethering on the edge of dangerous. “And here’s the deal: You don’t say anything about it and I don’t make sure you never step on Gotham’s rooftops again.”

Jason stared at Dick in disbelief. How was this supposed to even be a threat? Dick couldn’t stop Jason from doing jack, no matter how hard he might try.

“I’m sorry, Grayson, did the truth hurt your feelings?”

Dick looked like he was reaching the end of his patience. Good. Jason wanted him to lose it, to prove he was just as much of a mess as the rest of them.

“Shut. Up. Jason. Just shut the fuck up. Bruce would be ashamed to hear you speak like that.”

Jason snarled and stepped forward to push Dick, but the older man avoided Jason by leaning to the right, evading him easily.

“Well, he isn’t here anymore! So who cares!?”

Dick moved away from Jason, mustering him again with that cold expression Jason couldn’t place.

“Gotham,” Dick then said and walked back into the direction the two of them had come from.

Bruce chose me!

Dick pulled the uniform close to his chest, inhaled and expected a scent he never entirely could forget. Sometimes he’d walk through Blüdhaven, catch it and get thrown right back into one of his fondest childhood memories. When he had been younger, he hadn’t understood how much work having a protégé must have been for Bruce. He had to make his files and the cases he allowed Robin to investigate childhood friendly, train him enough so that he wouldn’t have to worry every time Robin left his line of sight.

He was my dad too.

Of course, Bruce being Bruce, he would worry nevertheless, that was just in his nature. He wasn’t the poster child of articulating his feelings or thoughts very well, but Dick had never questioned that Bruce cared about him. He had proof of that buried beneath all the gruesome Ethiopia files he had hidden so deep down in the archive that nobody but him and Barbara would ever find it.

He wanted me.

Bruce would make Dick run laps until his legs gave out for how he’d been acting in the past weeks. Jason was fifteen for god’s sake and what had Dick done? Screamed in his face that it was Jason’s fault Bruce was dead when really, nobody but the Joker was to blame.

Dick didn’t have to like Jason, he didn’t know if he ever could, but he could start treating him like the victim instead of the offender. He was a child lashing out at everything and everyone he could get his hands on, Dick had to be patient.

Putting on the uniform for the first time was a strange feeling. When Dick looked in the mirror, he thought he was seeing someone else. His brain caught up only slowly, measuring the height of the vigilante in the mirror against what he knew Batman’s actual height was. The cape was too short, the waist too narrow and the chin not angular enough.

He was mine.

Dick looked like a child playing dress-up. It would have to be enough. (He would make sure of it.)

“The Signal has been lit again and for the first time in months-“

Switch.

“-Calendar Man escaped last week-“

Switch.

“I thought I wasn’t seeing correctly, but there he was-“

Switch.

“Batman-“

Switch.

“-Batman.”

Switch.

“-Batman-“

Switch.

“-Robin?”

Jason stopped flipping through the channels, which were all reporting the same thing. Batman had finally returned and caught the villain of the week. The people were celebrating, but Jason didn’t know what for. It had taken Dick much longer than it would have Bruce to capture Calendar Man. One person had died still. Batman hadn’t made his great comeback, he was lying six feet underground and maggots were eating away his skin. Dick was a terrible replacement and Barbara was the only reason he was functioning at all. Without Oracle’s help, the first scuffle he had gotten involved in, would have ended deadly.

“And still we wonder: What happened to Batman? And where is Robin? The Joker, too, hasn’t resurfaced yet and his madness looms like a threat over Gotham’s skyline. Many speculate-“

The TV cut off.

Jason looked to his right where he found Alfred holding the remote.

“You shouldn’t watch such rubbish, Master Jason,” Alfred said.

“Why? It’s not like they’re saying anything wrong. As soon as that clown comes out of his hideyhole, Dick is done for. He’s barely holding it together as he is.”

Jason pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them. Where is Robin? The question echoed in his head. He was curled up on a comfortable sofa and the heavy blanket resting on his shoulders kept him warm. His wounds had healed, all of them, and he was almost back in shape. His legs still hurt more than they ought to when he didn’t land a role or a jump a hundred percent correctly, but that was to be expected. Bruce wouldn’t let him out on the streets yet, maybe in a week or two.

But he couldn’t.

Robin had caused all of this, he didn’t know how to fly anymore.

“Master Dick is trying his best,” Alfred said.

He took off his gloves and put them on the table in front of them. Then he sat down next to Jason and put one arm around Jason’s shoulders.

“His burden isn’t yours to carry and neither of you should feel like you have any weight on your shoulders at all. You are not to blame for the action of others.”

Jason bit on his lip until he could taste blood on his tongue. “But I am. I did this. I ruined it. I got him killed-“

His eyes burned. He had cried so often in the past weeks, when was it finally enough? He hated it, he wanted it to stop, but nothing he ever did went according to plan.

“You did not. You were trying to do an admirable task and save another person. Bruce wouldn’t want you to keep hurting yourself like this. He definitely wouldn’t blame you, either.”

Jason buried his head in Alfred’s chest as if that could stop the tears from flowing. They burned hot on his cheeks and his shoulders trembled as he tried to choke down the sobs.

“It will get better, Jason,” Alfred murmured. He held Jason close, both his arms acting as a shield, protecting Jason from the outside world. “It will get better.”

Jason wanted to believe it.

Blüdhaven was a terrible city to protect. Everybody was corrupt and Dick could count the people he could trust on one hand with a couple fingers still left over. However, Blüdhaven was also a lot smaller than Gotham. It wasn’t called Gotham’s little sister just because it inherited its gangs, it was also only roughly a third of its size.

Gotham was a lot more work than Blüdhaven. When Dick had started going out as Nightwing, the high amount of hours and sleepless nights that went into acting on your own had caught him slightly off guard. The first weeks hadn’t just sucked, they had been the worst.

Dick felt a lot like he was eighteen again, standing in front of a wall so high he wasn’t sure he could climb to the top. Dick wasn’t even working by himself, he had Oracle and her Birds of Prey. Catwoman too had taken up a much more active role, keeping check of East End. Her relationship with Bruce had always been a little strange, and it hadn’t gotten any clearer now that Dick was an adult and could understand parts of it. However, Selina Kyle had always been absolutely clear on the fact that she was no vigilante and certainly no hero.

Her more recent actions sung a different song, but Dick wasn’t going to ask her about it. He was grateful for all the help he got.

Batman’s mantle was a heavy weight, one Dick wasn’t sure wouldn’t suffocate him one day. He’d need to slow down a little, or the stress would catch up to him. His body was already a stunning blue and green pattern- there was no need to add any red to it because he couldn’t catch enough sleep.

Alfred wouldn’t be able to handle it and he already had his hands full with Jason.

Dick hadn’t seen him in the Cave lately, though he knew the teenager still sneaked in to look at the computer. Jason did a good job of covering his tracks, but Dick had been in this business longer than Jason. It had been almost twelve years now.

It felt like an eternity and a half.

Dick dropped in Bruce’s chair. (No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of the big chair as his own. Dick had hang on it when he was a child, climbing all over Bruce while he was trying not to spill any hot tea on Dick. It was always going to be Bruce’s throne to Dick.)

“Alright,” he muttered. “What does today’s schedule have for us?”

Barbara forwarded him any info she gathered. Some of it was already marked down as taken care of, but other cases were filled with more gaps and holes than Swiss cheese.

“Arms dealer, drug trafficking, …” The list went on and on and Dick had no idea where to start. It seemed like the moment he took down one operation, another was there to take its place.

Dick didn’t like the silence of the Cave, never had. Back in Blüdhaven, Dick would play musing while he was solving cases and before that, when he had been Robin, he had always been talking with Bruce – or at Bruce. His grunts and hums might not have been the greatest replies, but they had been enough for Dick. He missed them. The silence ate everything up.

Until it didn’t.

“Dick!”

Dick wasn’t prepared for Barbara’s face to suddenly show up on the computer screen. Her eyes were wide with shock, fear. Her breathing was uneven and shallow, signs of a panic attack.

“Barbara, what’s going on-“

“The Joker. He’s back. One of my camera’s picked him up. It’s him, I know it, Dick. It’s him, he’s back.”

Dick could feel all the blood drain from his face. For a moment, he was frozen. All the years of training him out of the habit seemed to disappear.

(“Fight or flight, chum. Choose either, but never freeze. There’s no shame in running away.”)

The cold determination took over.

“We’ll get him,” Dick said. ‘I will end him,’ he thought.

He suited up.

Jason carefully monitored Dick’s progress. He still sucked, but the fact that he needed Jason’s help was becoming painfully obvious. Jason had thought about abandoning Dick, but then he might as well burn Bruce’s grave to the ground.

Dick was trying to keep Gotham standing when Jason couldn’t. He had to help him or people would get hurt and die. Gotham needed Batman and if Dick was the only viable candidate, then Jason would ensure he wouldn’t come back to the Cave with more bullets than blood in his body. Jason left notes on the Batcomputer, correcting Dick’s records and adding background information Dick couldn’t have because he hadn’t been there when it happened.

There was no way he’d know the Irish and the Russians hated each other because of some Romeo-and-Julietesque drama that had gone down a year ago. So Jason put it in Dick’s rainbow color-coded files and highlighted it thrice.

Jason didn’t own Dick anything, least of all an apology.

He had been right with everything he said.

But they needed to set terms or Gotham would go to hell.

Jason walked down the steps to the Cave deliberately slowly, going through his speech word for word. Yes, he had written an actual speech and learned it by heart. He didn’t want Dick to catch him off guard when Jason struggled to find the words. Alfred was currently out running some errands, so it was the best time to confront Dick.

Jason knew it hurt Alfred to see the two fighting. The butler had enough worries already and Jason didn’t want to add to them.

When Jason reached the bottom of the stairs, he stood still for a moment. Analyze the situation first, figure out where Dick was and what kind of mood he was in.

But Dick was nowhere to be found. Jason frowned and tried to recall whether Dick should be anywhere else, maybe with his Team?

No, he had resigned from the Titans or something. He had had a massive fight with his teammates about his decision to stay in Gotham, not that Jason was supposed to be aware of that.

“Grayson?” Jason shouted. “Are you here?”

Nobody replied and Jason was starting to get worried. “Hey, Dick, come on. This isn’t funny. We need to talk.”

Jason walked further into the Cave, but he still couldn’t spot Dick anywhere.

“Where did you-“

Jason’s words were stuck in his throat as Jason glanced at the Batcomputer screen.

He was back.

He was back, he was back, he was back.

Jason belched, but nothing came out. Hellfire burned the earth around him, there was a heavy weight on his chest and the Joker was laughing and laughing-

Dick.

He must have gotten the Joker alert and ran after him on his own, without Jason, without back-up.

The Joker was no fool, he would know that Dick wasn’t Batman. He’d barely take a look at him and he would make Dick pay for it.

Jason couldn’t let that happen.

He scrambled over to the changing room, that horrible sound chasing him. Jason hadn’t worn Robin’s colors in months. He wouldn’t fit the uniform anymore. Somewhere in-between his panic, he recalled that the spares, Dick’s old Robin suits, were still kept in at the very back behind Jason’s.

Bruce had never said why he had kept them. They were old, Dick wouldn’t use them again and Jason’s had all been upgraded. They would have to be enough today.

Jason fastened his utility belt and headed for his bike.

He couldn’t waste a minute.

Thirteen seconds left.

Jason drove out of the Batcave faster than he ever had.

He needed to find the clown and end him.

The Joker usually hauled up in the Amusement Mile. Even when he was locked up in Arkham, people didn’t dare to go there in fear of stepping into the Joker’s traps.

Dick would likely head there first.

The Joker wouldn’t be there. It would be stupid to head to his main base immediately. They knew Joker had more hideouts, but they had never been able to track down all of them. He would restock first and then-

Where would he go?

Somewhere he can plan, somewhere familiar.

The Joker had known that Bruce had been on his way to Jason and he knew that whoever was wearing Batman’s mantle now, it wasn’t the real Batman. What was the likely conclusion if Robin and Batman hadn’t been seen since Ethiopia?

Death.

Joker would be pissed, he’d be furious. His Batman was gone and now a new one had taken the scene. One who didn’t share any history with him yet. He’d want to change that, recreate what had existed once.

Jason cursed. He knew where the Joker was headed. He thought about calling Dick or Barbara, notifying anyone, but-

He could end this.

Jason could ensure nobody would ever get hurt by the Joker again.

He drove on.

Dick was one setback away from indulging completely in his panic. The Joker wasn’t in his usual hideout, nor anywhere near it, and Barbara had lost track of him. The Joker could be everywhere, planning to blow up more than just one warehouse this time, and they didn’t have a single lead.

“Dick,” Alfred’s voice rang over the comm. “Is Jason with you?”

He sounded out of breath like he had run a marathon. Dick’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“No, why should he?”

Please, Dick thought. Not now, not this.

“He’s not at home and his bike is missing, I fear he’s decided to follow you.”

Dick’s mouth dried. No. No, no, no, no!

“O, can you track him?” Dick asked. “Jason’s bike has a tracker, right?” Dick’s bike used to have a tracker so he wouldn’t be able to sneak away. Of course, he had figured out how to disable it, but if Jason was even half as terrified as Dick right now, maybe he wouldn’t have thought of it.

“I’ve got him,” Barbara replied. “He’s- it’s parked in front of Ace Chemicals. I’m rerouting the police there. Hurry.”

Dick didn’t need to be told twice.

The Ace Chemicals plant was dark. They were currently right in the middle of rebuilding the whole area and roughly half of it was already done. They had started with the newest parts, fixing them up and enlarging them. A lot of their production had been shipped overseas, and if a few adjustments here and there were enough, they could simply tear down the old buildings and warehouses.

Jason didn’t even waste a second to consider where exactly the Joker would go, it was obvious. He had no interest in the new building, it held no memories for him. No, he would head to the old part. Maybe he had sneaked in, just like Jason, through the damaged fence and entered the old building through the backdoor.

The lack of security cameras was a bit confusing, but not too unusual. Enough dark deals were made in the shadows of big corporations. The less supervision there was in general, the more plausible deniability did the heads of such companies have. Jason was mindful of any security still, but he encountered not even one guard on his way through the building. Everything smelled like chlorine and disinfectant. It reminded Jason of the hospital and he hated it. He tugged at his cape and held it over his nose in the hope it would lessen the sharp scent at least a bit.

It didn’t.

The warehouse was cloaked in darkness. The only light source was the moonlight shining through the dirty windows. Jason’s patience was running out.

“I know you’re here,” he hissed. “Stop hiding, you coward.”

Jason walked into the middle of the warehouse, his back exposed. He was open to any attacks, but he was sure that the benefits outweighed the risks.

At first, nothing changed, but then a shadow moved and by the time Jason could see the trademark violet suit, he also heard the Joker’s footsteps and clapping.

“Oh, look! The itty-bitty birdy found me! Where did you leave your new Bat?”

Jason had been right. The Joker did know that it wasn’t the same man under the mask. He took out two Batarangs, one for each hand.

The Joker leaned forward as if to examine them closer. “Those again? I thought we had already established they’re not useful, especially if I step a little on those fingers and toes.”

Jason was accustomed to the fire burning inside him. It flared up, tainted his vision red and urged him to move forward through all walls and bodies.

He couldn’t feel its warmth.

Instead, ice spread through his limbs, its cold burning like the flame, if not even more damaging.

“That reminds me!” The Joker said. “Do you think we should have another session? Our first one didn’t end as planned.”

And suddenly, the Joker was upon him. Jason stumbled back, but he couldn’t catch his balance in time and dropped to the floor. The Joker grabbed Jason’s shoulders and when he tried to lift his head, the Joker smashed it to the ground.

“You! Ruined! My! Game!” The Joker shouted in Jason’s face. “You useless little birds always do! The Bat is mine and you keep hogging his attention. Life would be so much better with you gone.”

The Joker sighed theatrically and leaned back. “I imagined how sweet it would be. Just me and Batman forever and ever without you little pests interfering.”

The Joker’s nails dug into Jason’s arms so harshly that he must be drawing blood. Jason whimpered. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, he’d had a plan, a goal. He couldn’t let the Joker ruin it or him or anything else ever again.

“But you! You had to get in-between us! I figured Batsy’s gonna be sad for a while, but then he came back all wrong. So I have to make him right, I’ll fix us. You won’t make me mad again, will you, Robin? I had fun the last time, but I think I might be angry today. People don’t like me being angry, it hurts them.”

The Joker’s green eyes gleamed and he began to grin. “Or maybe that’s why you came back? No daddy at home to punish teeny-tiny Robin for getting him killed?”

Jason could taste blood on his tongue. He hated the Joker. That was the reason for the cold, he was the reason. Jason had been angry at others before, but nobody but Willis had managed to make Jason so furious he lost all control, but the Joker?

This was hatred.

Jason screamed and with all the strength he could measure up, he pushed himself off the ground, toppling the Joker over. Now their roles were reversed. The Joker was lying on the ground, helpless like prey and Jason was holding the weapon.

He would kill him.

Jason would kill the bastard and make him pay for every crime he had ever committed.

“You-“

A loud crash interrupted Jason. The right wall of the warehouse just smashed open when a familiar black car drove through it.

Dick jumped out of the driver’s seat.

“Robin!” He shouted, then his eyes zoomed in on the Joker lying beneath him.

“Hello, big bird,” the Joker sing-songed. “Nice upgrade you got there, but it’s not all done. I was going to help you but then this little bird interrupted.”

Jason used his right hand to push the Joker’s head forcefully to the ground.

“Robin,” Dick repeated, this time softer. “Let go of him.”

“No.” Jason hissed. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Dick said and took one step forward, then another. “You don’t want to do this.”

“I don’t want to do this? He ruined everything!”

Why didn’t Dick understand? If they got rid of the Joker, everything would change. No more torture, no more nightmares, no more pain.

Jason was going to fix everything. “He has to die.”

“B wouldn’t want you to do this,” Dick said. He held his hands up as if to show that he wasn’t going to forcefully take the decision out of Jason’s hand.

It almost made Jason want to laugh. Bruce had shown him a couple maneuvers he could do easily while

“No more death,” Jason said. “No more destruction. The world is better off without him!”

Beneath him, the Joker laughed maniacally, his face twisted into the ugly impression of a smile.

“Shut up!” Jason shouted, but the Joker wouldn’t calm. He only became more and more hysteric and Jason just wanted it all to end!

“I said, shut up!”

“Ja- Robin,” Dick tried again. “Please. You don’t-“

“I’m right,” Jason said. “I’m right. He should die and I’ll make him stop.”

Dick fell silent. The Joker’s laughter surrounded them both. If Jason wasn’t here, Dick wouldn’t know whether he’d be able to knock the Joker out and put handcuffs on him. Hell, if Dick were in Jason’s position, he didn’t know if he could do it. He wanted the Joker gone as well. Preferably slow and painful, so he’d suffer like Bruce had.

But-

“B wouldn’t want it,” Dick repeated. “I want him gone as much as you do, but Batman and Robin don’t kill.”

Gotham would fall apart as soon as they shed blood like that.

“I know it hurts and he should suffer, but you shouldn’t have to pay the price. Dad loved you and he wanted you to be safe. This is the opposite of that. You don’t have to agree, you don’t even have to think my way is the right one, but you know he’d hate himself for being the reason you’d have to spill blood.”

Jason’s hands were still holding onto the Batarang. If Jason really wanted to kill the Joker, Dick wouldn’t be fast enough to drop it.

“He deserves it,” Jason whispered. “He killed our Dad and he deserves it.”

Jason dropped the Batarang. His arms went slack at his side and Dick used the opportunity to move in. He pulled Jason away from the Joker as fast and gentle as he could. He draped his cape around Jason’s shoulders and kneeled down next to the Joker. Dick jammed a syringe with sedatives in the Joker’s neck and cuffed his hands together.

Maybe the dosage was a little higher than usual.

Not enough to make sure he wouldn’t wake up again, but to ensure he’d drop immediately and his insane laughter would die.

“Oracle, police?” Dick asked. He was moving on autopilot, directing Jason away from the body.

“Outside, my father’s there.”

Good.

“Let’s go back home,” Dick said softly. At his side, Jason only nodded.

Dick carefully maneuvered Jason out of the warehouse and towards the Batmobile. When they arrived back home, Alfred was already waiting for them. He pulled both of them into a bone-crushing hug.

“My boys,” Alfred said. “Don’t ever do something like this again. I’m not sure my heart could take it.”

Dick put his arms around his grandfather, squishing Jason in the middle. All of them were here and all of them were alive.

They had made it.

Dick was home.

“There is something I want to show you,” Dick said. “I- I didn’t want you to know before and, fuck. I’m sorry. This wouldn’t have-“

Dick was struggling to find the right words. Would it have changed anything, he wondered, if he had given Jason this beforehand?

Jason wasn’t moving from his spot on Bruce’s chair, still wrapped in Dick’s cape. He was just staring into space, tear tracks still visible. Alfred had wanted them to go upstairs immediately and not step in the Cave for the next ten years, but Jason needed to listen to this.

Dick sighed. Now or never.

He opened the Ethiopia file and purposefully didn’t look at Jason. Then he hit play.

“Jay-“Bruce's voice played and Jason breathed a sob. “Jay, you’re okay. It’s alright. Don’t cry. Sssh, I love you. You and Dick. I love you, I-“ He coughed. It was a wet and ugly sound. “I love you, I love...”

The recording cut off.

Jason hit replay.

Again.

And again.

And again and again and again and just once more. He just had to be sure that he wasn’t mishearing Bruce’s words, that he was committing them to his memories until he could quote this terrifying declaration.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Just once more.

Rewind.

Jason was sitting in the circle with the rest of the deaf kids. He knew their names, some of their hobbies and roughly how much of their hearing was impaired. He had never bothered to pay any attention beyond that or involve himself in any way. More than once, he had brought a book to these sessions and had refused to look up from it.

He thought of all the puns about deafness Dick had made on the way to Jason’s appointment. Not all of them had been good or fun – two have them had fucking hurt, but Dick had apologized and it was okay.

Getting better.

Something like that, at least.

‘Is there anything you’d like to share today, Jason?’ The therapist asked like she did every Saturday.

She wore one of her awfully colorful dresses and smiled softly, hopeful. Jason didn’t get how she could do that for weeks without growing resentful. If Jason didn't absolutely shut down, he avoided eye-contact and replied with a quick ‘no’ and, if he was feeling especially crude, told her to ‘fuck off’ in the most vulgar way possible.

‘Yes,’ Jason signed for the first time. ‘I’ll be spending the evening with…’ He dropped his hands in his lap, took a breath, then picked the sentence up again. ‘I’ll be spending the evening with my older brother. I don’t know what we’ll do yet, but I hope it will be fun.’

Poison Ivy had escaped Arkham yesterday. The last few times she had escaped, she hadn’t done any significant damage and Jason still had a biology test to study for. Sometimes, Ivy was down to answer his questions when they were driving her back to Arkham. It would be pretty great if tonight was one of those nights.

“So,” Jason said. “I’m thinking.”

The buzzing in his ears annoyed the hell out of him, but he couldn’t get it to stop. He'd have to wait until they were back home.

“Oh, dangerous,” Dick shouted from where he was lying beneath the Batmobile, trying to figure out what Ivy had done to stop their car.

Jason rolled his eyes and wrung out his cape once more. Everything was cold and wet and sticky. Ivy had been seriously pissed by the plans for a new factory at the edge of town. So much for getting her to tutor him.

“I think I should exchange my mask for something that covers my ears as well because my aids were not made for being thrown in Gotham River.”

Dick moved out from beneath the Batmobile, looking at Jason in a slight panic. Even though the mask covered his head, it was fairly easy for Jason to tell what he was thinking.

“They didn’t get damaged, did they?” Dick asked, signing while he was it.

Honestly, Lucius had made them. If getting dropped in the water once was going to fry them completely, Jason wouldn’t trust any of the equipment they were using.

“They’ll survive the night,” Jason said. Even if everything sounded a little bit like static. ‘And don’t speak and sign, your signs are shit.’

‘Sorry.’

“Anyway, I was thinking I should get a helmet…” Jason trailed off. Something or someone was moving on the roof of the building in front of them.

“Robin?” Dick called.

“Be right back,” Jason replied and angled his grapple so that it would pull him onto the roof. He shot it and whoever was on the roof was already running backward. Oh, hell no!

Jason landed smoothly on the roof and after a short sprint, he caught the person, who turned out to be much shorter than Jason expected.

Kid-sized, really.

“Hello,” the kid squeaked nervously. He couldn’t be older than twelve or so, Jason thought. “Nice to meet you?”

“What are you doing here?” Jason asked. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Eh…” The kid glanced at the camera he was holding. “Maybe?”

Jason raised a brow, pretty unimpressed with the kid so far. Though, he couldn’t just let the kid go and ignore that he had caught a maybe twelve-year-old with a camera on a rooftop. At least it wasn’t a video camera, so no possibly incriminating videos spoiling Batman and Robin’s identities for the world.

“Gimme that,” Jason said, already pulling the camera out of the kid's hands.

“I don’t show them anybody!” The kid insisted when Jason turned the camera on and looked at the most recent photos.

As expected, the last one was of the two down in the alley, but the ones before that were close-ups of the dynamic duo fighting Ivy. Ivy had destroyed an entire – fortunately abandoned – building in her rage. To get pictures of that…

“Who are you?” Jason asked. He didn’t make it his habit to intimidate kids, but if they got involved in such dangerous situations, he needed to know why. “Who is paying you for this?”

“Nobody!” The kid said. “I just do this for. Uhm. Fun. My name is Tim. I’m your neighbor.”

The words registered in Jason’s mind about the same time as they did in the kid’s as Tim slapped his hands over his mouth and paled.

Later, when Jason would be ranting about Dick’s overreaction at Bruce’s grave, he’d maybe admit that he could have dealt with Timothy Jackson Drake differently and that knocking a twelve-year-old out shouldn’t ever be anyone’s first instinct, but right now?

Right now, Jason already had the knock out gas in hand and was only vaguely aware of Dick having reached the rooftop.

#batfam #Jason Todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #dc #dc comics #fanfic #MY ANGST MAGNUS OPUM

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dreamcatcherfication · 5 years ago

Text

Dreamers in Fantasyland - Part 1

*SCREECHES IN UNADULTERATED PAIN*

Ahem, anyway. Hello! Why am I starting a new series you say? Well because this was requested by the woderful @theatergirl06, who requested Parrlyn and KatAnna with lots of romantic rescuing. You have no idea what you’re in for with this series. Anyway, this is going to be four parts long and I’ve already written everything, so parts will come out whenever I have no other content to post. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, I wrote this at 4 AM.

(You’re all about to be very confused with this series. Even I don’t know why this exists....)

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of nausea and feeling sick

When Cathy Parr woke up, she expected to be in bed with her girlfriend Anne Boleyn. Instead, when she opened her eyes, she was immediately greeted with unfamiliar surroundings and unfamiliar sounds. Primarily, the heavy snoring of her girlfriend was gone, replaced with the quiet inhales of whoever was in bed next to her.

Rolling over, Cathy was even further surprised when she almost fell off the bed and onto the floor. Apparently this was a single bed, unlike the one she and Anne shared, and her companion was on a separate bed on the opposite side of the room. The sheets of her bed were coarse and rough, the bed itself barely held a foot off the ground. “What is this?” Cathy mumbled to herself, taking in the room. It was frightening how similar it looked to the peasant houses during Henry’s reign.

With the pottery along shelves and brown walls, this was either a really good model for a renaissance fair or - “Cathy, you’re awake!” Came the voice of the other person in the room.

Although her English accent was thicker than Cathy remembered, she instantly recognized Kat’s voice. “Kat?” she rubbed her eyes, hoping that the peasant home would fade away and she would wake up in Kat’s room. When nothing changed, Cathy asked, “Where are we?”

Giggling, Kat threw the blankets off her bed and made her way over to Cathy. Kat still retained the childish glint in her eyes, but she was more refined than Cathy remembered her. She no longer slouched when moving, but kept a perfect posture and a dazzling smile. “Well I’d hoped you would recognize your own house, but you did take quite a fall last night.” Cathy’s mind was spinning, unable to grasp what Kat was telling her.

“This is my house?” Cathy couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed at how dirty and beat up it looked. “What’s going on?” A dull headache had begun to throb in the back of Cathy’s skull, distracting her from her new world.

Without any real concern, Kat titled her head to the side. “You snuck me out of the palace last night, remember? I was hoping no one would notice a noble girl and her servant missing, so we escaped right under their noses!” she grew excited from just telling the story. “While we were running through the docks, you were tripped up by a drunk sailor and you hit your head in a nasty way. You said you were fine, but maybe something got knocked around up there,” she pointed to Cathy’s skull.

“Wait wait wait,” Cathy put her hand up. “I’m your servant?” This was a lot to handle, and Cathy needed a basic idea of how things worked in this strange, foreign world.

Playfully punching Cathy’s arm, Kat replied, “Only by official terms. We’ve been friends for so long, I can’t even remember a time when I considered you a servant and not a friend. Father doesn’t approve of our friendship, but he doesn’t have control over us.” Flipping her hands, Cathy stared at her dark skin. Was that why Kat’s father didn’t like her? This body she was in was similar (although minorly different) to her modern body and felt distinctly different from her Tudor body. This was clearly wrong.

A sickening feeling overcame Cathy and she put her hands against her stomach. Gagging, she leaned over as if she was going to vomit. “Cathy?” Kat frantically leaned next to her. “Are you sick? Should I fetch a doctor?”

“No Kat,” Cathy stayed hunched over, waiting for the pain to pass. It took a few moments, but the feeling faded. It must’ve been something to do with adjusting to her body and this new reality.

The noble girl bit her lip but didn’t move from beside her friend. “I hope you aren’t too unwell. We have to be back to the palace soon for the banquet celebrating Princess Mary’s return to court.”

Freezing, Cathy lifted her head to stare at Kat. “Princess Mary? Kat… who are the Queen and King?”

Kat must have assumed Cathy’s fall was causing her to act so confused, because she didn’t comment on the absurdity of the question. “King Edward IV and Queen Elizabeth! Their beautiful daughter Mary is set to inherit the throne. The King thinks she’ll make a wonderful ruler one day.”

This… was not the history Cathy remembered. In fact, King Edward IV and Queen Elizabeth had died long before Cathy and Kat were even born. And Edward V was supposed to succeed Edward IV, not Mary. What did this mean? “Kat, what year is it?”

Without missing a beat, Kat answered, “1465.”

This couldn’t be real. Cathy couldn’t accept that this was reality. She and Kat were alive in the past - as impossible as it sounded - but they weren’t their past selves. Kat was only a couple years younger than Cathy herself, not the early teens queen that she had been in the past. She had all her memories of the present - future? Cathy didn’t know, but she remembered the 21st century and her newfound family. Cathy remembered her girlfriend, Kat’s cousin, who she wanted nothing more than to be with right now.

But instead, Cathy was walking beside Kat as they made their way to the banquet hall where Princess Mary would be arriving. She and Kat shouldn’t even be alive during this time period, and it felt wrong to be in these halls. But Cathy kept her mouth shut and stayed beside Kat as they passed nobles she could not name. “Jane!” Kat called, running past Cathy to the woman in question.

Jane was strikingly different yet exactly as Cathy knew her as. Her blonde hair was the gone, now a wavy brown, but her loving eyes still sparkled whenever she saw Kat. The way she walked and held herself was identical to her future self, Cathy noted silently. Kat hurled herself into the woman’s arms, practically toppling her in place. “Hello Kat,” she ran a hand through the girl’s hair. “Awfully excited today?”

Pulling away, Kat bounced on her feet. “Yes! I have a wonderful gift for Mary, and I can’t wait to surprise her with it.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful dear,” Jane replied, smoothing out Kat’s rumpled dress. Cathy put a hand to her forehead, the throbbing momentarily returning. Something about what Kat had said didn’t feel right, but she couldn’t place it, not with the pain in her skull. “Cathy, are you alright?” Jane reached a hand out but didn’t touch Cathy.

“She hit her head last night,” Kat explained. “Cathy can barely remember anything.”

It was strange how Jane didn’t seem bothered by this information at all. “Well, I’m Jane, one of the Queen’s maids of honor. I used to work at a famous pub on the Isle of Wights before I was lifted into court. I look after Kat while her father is away on business.”

Taking in the information, Cathy tried to hide her utmost confusion. This wasn’t the past. This was the future but… they were in the past? All of it was making Cathy’s head spin. “I remember you, Jane,” Cathy said as vaguely as possible. She wasn’t lying, and this way she could convince the two other queens - could she call them that? - that she was okay.

“That’s progress!” Kat cheered as if Cathy was a complete amnesiac.

Listening to the drunk calls of courtiers in the banquet hall, Jane sighed. “I’m going to have to leave you two and check up on the kitchens. The queen instructed me to keep an eye out for anyone stealing food. Things have been disappearing all over the palace recently, and she fears the thief will head for the food stores next.”

“While Princess Mary is visiting?” Kat questioned. “Wouldn’t they try to steal her jewels instead? It’s a much bigger prize than some bread.”

Jane shook her head. “It’s not my place to question the Queen.”

Her answer seemed to satisfy Kat who waved at Jane as she left the pair to go find the kitchens. Cathy watched her go, suddenly feeling empty without the third queen with them. Jane had always provided stability, something she still retained in this world, and it was something Cathy needed to latch onto as the world spun around her.

Kat grabbed her arm and pulled Cathy past the banquet hall and through the palace. “Kat, where are we going?” Cathy asked, noticing how guards became fewer and far between as they traversed the halls.

“Ssh,” Kat shushed her friend. Stopping in front of a door, Kat pushed it open and stumbled inside. “This is the common room for servants. You won’t remember, but we discovered a hidden panel that leads directly to the royal chambers!”

Frowning, Cathy observed the plain room. “So we’re the thieves Jane was talking about?”

“What? No,” Kat seemed horrified at the idea. “I would never steal from the royal family. And you never liked using the passage, so I don’t think you’re the thief.”

Balancing herself on the wall, Cathy felt another dizzy spell come on. This one was shorter, a sign that she was adjusting, and it passed quickly. “So why are we down here Kat?”

“Oh.” Kat moved across the room to the far end of one of the walls. She started fidgeting with a loose panel of the wall until it came off, revealing a dark hall. “Remember when I said I have a surprise gift for Princess Mary?”

“I might not remember much but that was five minutes ago, Kat,” Cathy rolled her eyes.

Clearing her throat awkwardly, Kat gestured to the passage. “Well I’m going to hide it in her room. We sneak into her bedchambers and hide the gift with a letter from you. With my stealth and your writing skills, it will be the best thing she’s ever seen!”

Kat seemed far too enthusiastic for breaking and entering, but Cathy let it go. What was the worst that could happen?

“Have you finished with the letter?” Kat was pacing around Mary’s room, poking at all the different antiques and riches spread about.

Glancing down at the blank page in front of her, Cathy nervously replied, “Uh, almost done.” Kat made a grunt of acknowledgement and continued to pace. “What did you get Mary?” Cathy asked in order to distract herself from her inability to write. Part of Cathy knew she could write the letter easily, but something was stalling her from actually putting her quill against the paper. It only served to keep them in the room for longer than was necessary as Cathy’s frustration grew.

Pulling out a small satchel, Kat revealed the gift to Cathy. It was a beautiful glass swan with a black pearl that served as the eye of the swan. “It’s beautiful,” Cathy murmured, staring at the miniature sculpture.

Smiling fondly, Kat nodded. “It was my mother’s. I hope Mary will enjoy it as much as I did.”

Recoiling from the swan in surprise, Cathy watched Kat with an open mouth. “This was your mother’s and you’re just going to give it away to the princess?”

“She needs a gift,” Kat scuffed her foot against the flooring. “The King requests jewels, and this is the only thing of value I have.”

Hatred filled Cathy’s chest as she was reminded of the ways of the English Court. How subjects of the King were forced to give up their greatest possessions only for the royal family to discard them amongst countless other ‘worthless’ items. But Kat didn’t know any better. So Cathy didn’t say anything. She returned to her letter, forcing her hand to put a small splotch of ink on the parchment. A gasp from Kat pulled her attention away once again. The girl had opened Mary’s trunk and was admiring the princess’s many gowns. When Kat started to reach into the trunk, Cathy stood up. “Kat,” she warned.

The wonderment in Kat’s eyes almost won the writer over. She was pleading with her gaze, and it was working on Cathy without her permission. “One dress? Please?”

Relenting, Cathy nodded. “You can try on one dress. Then we leave and return to the banquet hall.”

“Thank you!” Kat beamed. Cathy turned away so she could offer Kat a small form of privacy. She stared at the letter and continued to procrastinate actually putting something on the page. Why wouldn’t her hand just write the words? Quicker than she would’ve liked, Kat spoke up, “Cathy, do I look like a princess?”

Spinning around in her chair, Cathy couldn’t help herself from going slack-jawed. Her friend looked exactly as Cathy remembered her during her reign as Queen of England. It was a horrible sense of nostalgia, and Cathy felt pains in her heart from seeing Kat dressed up. “Cathy, are you alright?” Kat stepped forward, concerned with her friend’s silence.

“I’m fine, just,” Cathy steadied her voice, “change back into your clothes before someone finds you.”

Kat’s youthful glee was gone, replaced with worry for Cathy. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, thank you,” Cathy murmured. Kat stepped away, but before she could change out of her clothes, there was a knocking on the door. The two girls shared a terrified glance before Cathy started to improvise. “Pretend you’re the princess,” she ordered Kat.

“What?” Kat was against the idea.

“You’re dressed up as the Princess, you pretend to be her!”

Panicking when another knock came, Kat lowered her voice and spoke haughtily. “I’m indecent, come back another time.” Then she turned to Cathy and asked, “Did that sound like Mary?”

Without any actual way of knowing, Cathy gave her two thumbs up and whispered, “Couldn’t even tell you two apart.”

And then the door came crashing open, a woman in britches running in sword first. Kat screamed and launched herself at Cathy, grabbing her friend and holding her tight. The two of them backed up against the wall as the swordswoman approached them. The door swung shut behind her, shutting them in.

Cathy’s head darted to the side when she heard the window click open and another swordswoman climb through it. Once the woman was inside, she turned her back to Cathy and locked the window, obscuring her face. But when she turned around, Cathy cursed herself for not recognizing either of the women earlier. “Anne? Anna?” she asked, holding Kat against her chest.

Anne Squared, like Jane and Kat, were creepily akin to their 21st century selves. The biggest difference for Anna was that she was younger than her modern self. Barely twenty one, Cathy guessed, but she had the hardened eyes of someone who had been doing this for a long time. Anna’s skin was thick and dark, matched with the familiar air of self confidence she always had. Her outfit was a mismatch of a cheap red tunic and black slacks that complimented her fierce eyes. Her sword was sharp and threatening, but Cathy couldn’t picture her actually hurting someone with it.

“How do you know our names?” demanded Anne, stalking forward and pulling out the second sword on Anna’s belt. She pointed it at Cathy’s throat and spit at the ground. Anne’s voice was huskier than Cathy was used to, and it sent her for a loop. Her not-girlfriend was wearing a mostly black outfit, her belt and hat colored with her signature green. It was unnerving how similar yet different this Anne was to the Anne that Cathy was used to. “Eh?” Anne pushed, taking a step closer.

Hugging Kat closer, Cathy struggled for an answer. “You remind me of someone I know,” she offered lamely, hoping they would buy it.

For whatever reason, Anne chose not to push it. “Well it doesn’t matter, you’re coming with us.”

“What?” Kat poked her head out from under Cathy’s arm. “Are you kidnapping us?”

“That’s indeed what we’re doing,” Anna smirked at Kat, causing the girl to once again bury her head in Cathy’s chest. Holding her friend, Cathy tried to offer her a feeling of safety. She knew Anne and Anna would never hurt them, but Kat didn’t know that.

“Princess Mary,” Anne addressed Kat, “and her…” Anne looked Cathy up and down in a way that made her want to slap the girl that was supposed to be her girlfriend, “strange, yet beautiful servant.” Anne winked, “You’ll do quite well for ransom.”

By the way Kat froze in Cathy’s arms, she could tell they both realized their mistake. “I’m not Prince-” Kat started, but Anna cut her off.

“Please don’t make me hurt that pretty mouth of yours,” Anna waved her sword in a circle. “You two come quietly and no one gets hurt.”

Glancing down at Kat and then at the two swords pointing at her face, Cathy made the decision for them. “Okay.”

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