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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

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HOSTIS, Chapter XIX: Rosa, Rose

Previous Chapter (XVIII: Renuntiatio)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): drama, FLUFF fucking finally and light smut

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“you’ve been trying to get rid of me for 10 years... and look where that got us?”

the crack that you could’ve imagined splitting the sky into pieces was short-lived, but it stirred you in your sleep, nonetheless.

bright, white light flashes through your opening lids but your body takes too long to prepare itself for the loud, vehement clap.

it sounded like someone had just thrown a bomb into the clouds.

you cower in fear at the call of mother nature, hands flying up to your ears as you push your head further into the pillow. there was some hint of sunlight spilling into the room, but that was the least of your concerns when the sky was trying to kill you.

a gentle, but firm force on your hips nearly warrants a harsh whack behind you if your hands weren’t preoccupied with covering your ears.

“stop being such a wuss,” barely opened eyes stirred under his lids, a left arm circling your waist as he pulls you closer to his chest. warmth was radiating off him as if the blanket you were nearly fully covered by wasn’t already keeping you safe from the outside world. “nothing’s going to happen to you, not while you’re here, at least.”

“ew, gro--”

clap

mother nature literally screams at you to shut up, forcing you to ball up further into his skin. his hold around you tightens, and he pulls your right leg up over his hip, palm resting flat and soft on your thigh.

“as much as i love to see you scared shitless, it sucks to know that i don’t ever want to see you scared like this alone.”

the words run through your hair and you now notice your hands were balled up into fists against his chest, his light breathing brushing against the little strands that fell over your forehead like little curtains.

“so be like this only with me, and you won’t have to be scared anymore.”

the skies refuse to let up and zeus hurls another lightning bolt down to earth, yet the orchestral accompaniment doesn’t faze you that much anymore, not after what he said.

not when it’s completely reduced your hatred for him into nothing but ashes. ashes and dust that fly away in the gentle wind.

what were the ten years for, if both areses were going to tread on it like it wasn’t the most dangerous thing to do?

what did the ten years of fighting do, if zeus meant for the two gods of war to round a circle in the ring of fire, only to put down their swords and admit defeat?

not to the fear of death, not to the lack of fight left in them.

but to surrender to one another.

where there were once thorns and daggers and poison now bloomed pansies, flowers that grow in winter; in harsh environments.

have you seen pansies in winter?

white on purple draws a striking, degrading memory in the little crooks and crannies of your mind.

for ten years, you’ve avoided drinking poison, or going anywhere near it, in fact. in the process, becoming poison yourself. it would’ve been like two pythons in a death match to see who could bite the other first.

yet, all of that was now of no value to you.

sure, you’ve lost ten years trying to fight a losing war; the entire duration worried that you would lose to he who would triumph had you chosen to take a step back.

but the very fact that nobody lost wears through you like tires on asphalt.

the notion that both sides took turns destroying each other only to fall in love, becomes the very cure for the tumor in your heart.

why did it take so long for you to realise that you hurt when you couldn’t read him? when he stayed so far away from you, breath on your skin but never touching you. eyes always glued to you, yet never soulful enough for your stomach to churn.

the very sight of him being away from you made you physically unwell.

so this was it.

he has claimed you and he has given himself to you.

zeus has failed in his plan to make the two of you fight to your deaths, but he smiles with pride and glory when he decides that ares’ happiness was more important than spilling blood and ripping flesh off bones.

but that was zeus, and you are ares.

ares is brutal.

and you would’ve not hesitated to rip her flesh off HER bones if you weren’t in a white coat and a doctor’s ID card was hanging around your neck like a dog tag.

“no, you’re joking!”

choi minhee was bright, pretty, cream-colored, and had a disgustingly white set of teeth looking like headlights on a fucking truck.

you?

you were poison, daggers, the thorns on roses.

of all doctors to be assigned to her father, it just had to be hyunjae?

mrs kang was rather entertained with the conversation that was happening in the other corner of the ward, and she must’ve known your blood pressure was skyrocketing through the roof because she shoots you a look of slight mischief, almost a glance of knowing.

“i should’ve known it was you,” the airy sigh that exits her parted lips calls for your attention over the clipboard.

“mr choi, you look too good for your age, honestly. this little injury will heal pretty good on its own as long as you take care of yourself while you’re staying here.”

“aw, no. you’re too kind.”

“he’s right, daddy. you’ll take care of my dad, won’t you?”

a wince exhibits itself on your face despite your pen flying across the report, mrs kang’s current condition coming out in ink though you weren’t even consciously writing every alphabet down.

“get anymore jealous and you’re going to be the one who needs your blood pressure taken, doctor l/n.”

mrs kang had her eyes focused on you in the corner of her eye sockets. slight embarrassment lights your soul on fire, but not as much as the irritation that was making your insides itch and squirm with despise.

“you should come over for dinner some time soon, do you remember the stew that you liked?

“ah, the one that mrs choi makes? of course, how could i forget?”

stew?

STEW?

“when daddy gets discharged, you have to visit sometime. mummy would be so happy to see you again!”

“would she?”

“of course! my wife loved you!”

so her parents don’t know he cheated on her.

doesn’t matter.

i’m gonna fucking kill him anyway.

“you should’ve seen him last week, child.”

the clipboard gets slid back into the slot at the end of the bed, and your neck cranes to look at mrs kang sitting up in her bed.

“the boy was in a mess.”

“you look very well, hyunjae. it’s really been a long time.”

“had you seen him and heard what he told me, you’d be in a mess too.”

“nah, four years don’t do much.”

“doctor l/n, are you listening to me?”

“you took four years to look like this! doesn’t he look great, daddy?”

“you flatter me too much, minhee.”

the mere trill of someone else’s name rolling off his tongue pushes you over an edge, an edge too close for comfort.

mrs kang reads your furrowed brows with ease and watches with a knowing smirk on her lips as you grab your patient files off the little cabinet next to the ward bed.

“i’ll see you tomorrow morning, mrs kang.”

she sees right through your painful, forced smile, and she breaks out into a small chuckle.

the light hanging above her bed brightens the whites in her eyes, in contrast to the darkening sky right outside the window where choi minhee’s father was warded due to a small, almost unnoticeable stroke.

it tickles you to see mrs kang happy, but the voices coming from behind you were holding your heart in its hands, every word aggravating its merciless grip around you.

you turn on your heels and head out of the ward, trying your best to block out the voices that sounded like demons inside your head.

how you wished you could whack your patient files across that smug, pretty face.

how dare she talk to him like he didn’t cheat on her? how dare he talk to her like that despite that whole dramatic confession last week? just how dare he--

someone’s shoulder runs into your arm and your patient files clutter to the floor.

“oh, i’m-- y/n!”

he bends down to pick up your patient files before you could even process who you ran into.

“eric!” the surprised tone made your voice so much higher, you were sure it would’ve caught hyunjae’s attention if the clatter of the files hitting the floor didn’t. “what are you doing in the wards wing?”

“running off to find the patient file archive office... doctor min wants me to help him finish one more thing before i’m done for the day.”

he hands you the patient files, and your hands brush across each other. he doesn’t look at you with an ounce of awkwardness or distaste, and frankly, you missed his smile. you missed how enthusiastic he was.

you were lucky you were still friends with him.

“are you alright? you don’t look too--” rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes travel from your face to movement behind you that you could see in your peripheral vision.

“i’ll be right back!” hyunjae gestures into the room while he reverses out, and his patient files brush across your back.

eric’s eyes light up like bulbs and it stuns you to see how easily eric gets through it. “hyung!”

“eric! my boy!” he pushes past you like you were a road block and wraps his arms around the intern. “how are you? i haven’t seen you in so long-- the research department hasn’t called for me since last week.”

“yeah, i know. i’ve only been seeing y/n around in the research department. you must have more patients to care for.”

your eyeballs roll so hard in your head, you force a polite smile for eric while your feet turn to leave this party. “i’m gonna go--”

“whoa, whoa, where are you��going? it’s dinner time--”

“you can find your dinner elsewhere, maybe have some stew at it if you like,” eric takes note of the disgust and disdain in your face before you pry the intern away from hyunjae so you could hug him instead. “i missed you so much. we have to catch up some other time, okay?”

“no problem! just drop me a text.”

the grin he presents you feels like soda on a hot day, and you walk off without bothering to turn to look at hyunjae.

the orange and blue sky outside your office window greets you like a flag, navy blue clouds cutting the skies into half across the horizon.

“‘you should come over for dinner soon’,” items get swept into your briefcase instead of being placed in it.

“‘doesn’t he look great, daddy?’ who even calls their father ‘daddy’ at 23? fluttering her eyes like she had something in her fucking eyes... smiling so hard that her eyes were literally missing from her fucking fac--”

the office door clicks open, and you see hyunjae walking in through your door in the reflection of the window.

the sharp sound of the zipper shutting the briefcase rings in the air like tearing a sheet of paper, and you shut off the main switch under your desk.

“y/n.”

a pen rolls off when you pick up your briefcase, coercing a frustrated groan out through your throat as you bend down to retrieve it.

“y/n, we said we’d have dinner together.”

“oh!” the sarcasm was dripping off your tongue, so when you turn to see his face, you know that he sees right through you.

but when has he not been able to?

“me? no! you have to get some of that mrs-choi-stew, don’t you?” steps were trying to take you away from him in the direction of the door, but you’ve barely made it past him when he grabs your upper arm without budging from his stance.

“kitten, wait.”

“don’t call me that and don’t tou--”

“kitten, are you jealous?”

“no, i’m not,” effort to writhe out of his hold becomes useless, but you struggle anyway. “let me go. i want to go home and--”

“so i’ll send you home and we can order takeaway.”

“no, i don’t need you to send me home--”

“i didn’t ask kitten. i’m telling you i will send you home and we will have takeaway.”

“ugh,” you vehemently yank your arm out of his grasp and glare at him. “do whatever you want, mr ‘my-wife-loved-you’.”

by the time you were in the car, hyunjae was very obviously finding some kind of fun and enjoyment watching you attempt to control how much your blood was boiling. he doesn’t say anything the whole ride to your place, and you try to convince yourself that you were only letting him drive you back because you didn’t want to pay for a cab or public transport.

but you remember that you love him now, and every little thing he does will end up crawling across the surface of your bones like ants on skin.

once in your apartment, you throw your keys into the basket atop the shoe rack by the door. your heels get kicked off and you dump your briefcase noisily on the kitchen island.

the front door clicks shut and you pull yourself onto the high-chair, occupying yourself with your phone and a menu you would rather have fill your guts than the thought of hyunjae flirting with his ex-girlfriend.

“kitten,” his feet shuffles against the floor and he places his briefcase in the hallway where it led to the front door.

oooh, sushi.

“kitten.”

maybe korean?

“kitten, look at me.”

“do you want sushi or--”

the device slides out of your hands and drops to the table with a soft thud, your high-chair being whirled around so suddenly before stopping abruptly.

the edge of the kitchen island etches itself against your spine as you lean back, one arm leaning on the surface while his fingers grip onto the edge of your seat.

“look me in the eye and tell me what’s wrong, kitten.”

is this man for real?

“for a smart man, you are really dense.”

“who said i didn’t know what’s wrong?”

what--

“i just wanted to hear you say it, that’s all.”

the skin on his cheek suddenly looked so plump and fitting for your palm to kiss.

“say it, kitten.”

“there’s nothing to say--”

“no, tell me you’re jealous, and that you never want me to let choi minhee flirt with me again.”

“i really wish i could stab you and get away with it.”

“you won’t even if you could, because you love me and that’s why you’re jealous.”

the smile on his face was so sweet, it makes you want to shove an insulin jab into your eye. he was so satisfied with the way you reacted, it was absolutely unbelievable that he was getting so much out of you.

his torso was rocking back and forth so slightly, his face leaning forward into yours. his flirtatious eyes locks with yours that were fuelled with anger and jealousy.

“i don’t think you deserve to hear anything because of what you let her d--”

you were interrupted in the form of a sudden kiss with his hands lining your jaw, eyes instinctively shutting upon the contact and your arms moving downwards to hold onto the edge of the chair.

unwillingly, you melt into the kiss like marshmallow over a bonfire between crackers.

it was gentle, like clouds in the sky and cotton candy on lips. he tasted sweet, with his lips buried between yours and his warmth seeping through his hands into your cheeks.

the anger and jealousy trickles into him with every passing second, and you marvel at his ability to have such immense control over your feelings. he didn’t even need to do much for you to become his kitten.

the kiss feels like eternity until he pulls away, lids slowly opening to reveal his slightly lustful eyes now.

he knows you’re starting to feel the same.

“say it, kitten, and we’ll forget about takeaway.”

a harsh exhale hits the top of his lip from your nose, and some tiny bit of anger and jealousy inside you surfaces.

“what if i don’t want to?”

he chuckles and tucks your hair behind your ear.

“why is it so hard for you to admit that you want me to yourself and the thought of having another woman in the picture kills you? you think i didn’t see how you wanted to use eric to piss me off just now?”

literally nothing you do gets past this man, it’s annoying.

you try to turn your head but he holds your chin and brings it back to him,

“don’t avoid me, kitten. you’ve been trying to get rid of me for 10 years... but look where that got us?”

his attention switches from your eyes to your neck, soft skin being littered with light kisses softens you even more.

“i’m waiting, kitten.”

a sigh that must’ve sounded like music to him rings in the air while his arms wrap themselves around your waist. your rear nearly gets lifted off the seat, so your left hand rests on his shoulder blade and the other finds his hair to tangle your fingers in.

“i hate you, do you know that?”

he smiles into your skin, and for a moment, it feels like pure bliss.

“but if you let anybody flirt with you like that and you flirt back, i’ll cut off your dick and make you watch it burn.”

one harsh suck evicts a gasp from you as you cringe under him. his strength channels through your spine as he lifts you off the seat and carries you to the sofa.

“that’s my girl.”

the rough texture of your sofa greets the back of your neck when he shoves his lips between yours once again, this time more desperate.

neither of you were trying to hide how much you were feeling for one another; all you wanted to do was to kiss him all night long and have his hands roam your body like he didn’t already know everything about it.

the kisses were desperate but slow and sensual, and the only piece of clothing that’s come off was his shirt.

so you could run your hands all over his torso, drawing circles and caressing the muscles on his back atop the soft squelch of your tongues and lips pressing together every second.

his forearms were resting on the sofa on either sides of your ears, biceps perching his torso up so he wasn’t crushing you under his weight.

your legs were apart on both sides of his hips and you could feel him fiddling with the button on your pants while he takes his time to press his bulge against your clothed core.

soft moans escape into his mouth, and you start to feel a heat gather in your underwear.

knock knock

hyunjae pulls away so fast, you register the emptiness on your lips before you process the sound.

knock knock

“y/n! are you at home? i thought i saw the backyard lights on!”

“oh, shit.”

of all times to come, your parents had to come now?!

you push hyunjae off you while removing yourself from under him, grabbing his shirt from the ground and recklessly hurling it into his face.

“put on your fucking shirt--”

“y/n, we can hear you inside! are you okay?”

“yes, i’m fine! give me a moment!” you run to the glass door of your backyard and fix your hair.

hyunjae barely gets his t-shirt on when you run over to the front door, opening it with a tiny gap to reduce the chances of your parents walking in on your sworn enemy being in your apartment.

“hi mom... dad...”

both of them look at you weird, but the scent of fried chicken garners your attention.

“you’re still in office attire-- have you eaten?”

“i--”

“i knew it. come on, we bought fried chicken to share,” your mother takes a step forward and tries to push the door open.

“ahH--”

she stops dead in her tracks, and your father shoots you a confused look.

“i-- well--”

“spit it out. the chicken’s gonna get cold if you don’t speak any faster.”

“i have a visitor with me right now--”

“a visitor? oh, goodie! we can all share, i’m pretty sure we got more than enough--”

“it’s not really a good time, mom--”

“nonsense! i can’t believe you invite others over and not your own parents!”

“well, this was impromt--”

clang

“ow!”

an awkward silence befalls between you and your parents. confused looks swamp their eyes and you struggle to contain your panic.

“is that--”

“that sounds strangely familiar...”

oh, god.

“we’ve heard this voice before, haven’t we, darling?” your mother turns around to look at your father, and your face distorts into an ugly mess of emotions when a second clang rings through the house, followed by a low curse that you were pretty sure your parents could hear too.

“we’ve definitely heard that before-- oh!” a light bulb appears above your father’s face, and you beg with your eyes not to say it--

“it’s that guy from your high school and college!”

your mother gasps, and she covers her mouth in shock.

“lee hyunjae?!”

“he--”

“LEE HYUNJAE! ARE YOU IN THERE?!”

“mom--”

“LEE HYUNJAE, WE HAVE CHICKEN!!! YOU WANT SOME?!”

oh, good god.

this is going to be a long night.

your parents were sitting across you at the table, with hyunjae sitting by your side.

the air between the party was heavy, awkward, dense.

your father was confused but cheerful.

your mother was shocked but she just couldn’t wipe that smug smile off her face whenever she gave hyunjae a piece of chicken.

“so... what brings you here?”

hyunjae looks like he was a deer caught in headlights when your mother takes a sip of soda after asking the question.

“i-- we... have a research project to work on.”

under the table, a familiar situation occurs to when you first had lunch with both eric and hyunjae.

his right hand finds your left thigh and he provides you a light squeeze, forcing you to clench down into the chicken you had in your mouth.

“oh,” your mother places the cup down. “y/n never told us she’s in the research department.”

“it’s a side job, apart from working with patients.”

heat starts to pool under you, and a chill involuntarily runs up your spine. his fingers were digging into your flesh on your inner thigh, and its only making you think horrible thoughts even with your parents before you.

“i see. must be real busy then? we haven’t seen her in like... what, eight weeks? since she started working at the hospital? the other day we wanted to drop by, but she said she was still working. it was a sunday, if i’m not wrong...”

“sunday? two weeks ago?” hyunjae side-eyes you when both your parents were looking at each other for confirmation.

your father pulls out his phone, nodding. “i believe it was sunday, i remember seeing the date when i texted her.”

“right, yeah. i saw her having takeaway in the pantry after dealing with a patient.”

great. now he knows i blew my parents off for him.

your thigh gets massaged over again, and it takes an immense amount of effort to swallow the moan that was already halfway up your neck. your heart was thumping so fast, you weren’t too sure why.

but your father finishes the last piece of chicken he has on his plate, and your mother gets up to wash some of the cutlery and utensils.

hyunjae’s palm finally leaves your thigh alone and you sigh with relief, watching your father peel little pieces of meat off the bones.

you watch in the glass panels of your backyard beyond your living room as hyunjae offers to help your mother wash the plates and cups, forgetting for a moment that your father was sitting right infront of you.

“what are you staring at?”

the white shirt hyunjae was wearing in the reflection loses your attention when your father catches your eyes wandering off axis.

“uh-- nothing!”

he turns around and looks at the glass panels.

“i thought i saw something in the backyard, that’s all.”

“oh,” he responds emptily, turning around. “i thought my hair was in a mess or something.”

my life is going to shorten by like 50 years.

your parents offer hyunjae a ride home (without knowing his car was sitting right outside your residence), and you butt in by telling them that he has to stay because he’s not done with his part of the project.

luckily, they miss his little grope on your rear when you escort them to the front door.

“it was such a nice surprise to see you again after all these years, hyunjae.”

hyunjae gives your mother a sheepish smile, leaning against the door frame with your shoulders perpendicular to his chest.

“we should meet up with your parents some time soon, it has been awhile. shouldn’t we, honey?”

your father nods, pulling up his sleeve to check the time.

“we have to go, honey. we both have a long day tomorrow.”

“okay,” she turns back to the both of you.

your relationship with your mother was never the best. but she looks at you with warm, soft eyes. eyes that said she was proud of you. eyes that said she was happy to be your mother.

and there was nothing more that could comfort you in that moment.

but your mother decides to ruin it, eventually.

“we’ll be taking our leave now...”

“oh, and uh... your shirt’s inside out, hyunjae.”

the look on your father’s face changes like a switch and he laughs at you, turning on his heels and making his way down the steps to the car.

a cheeky grin spreads your mother’s face when the both of you turn to look at hyunjae’s shirt, and the tag on the back was sticking out behind his neck.

she leaves without saying anything else, and they both wave to your embarrassed selves as the car drives off.

you wait until the car was no longer in sight, and then you choose to slam the door shut and give hyunjae a hard punch to his chest.

“you had one job!”

“you opened the door so fast!”

“it is a shirt-- how difficult is it to wear a shi-- oh, my god, they are going to call your parents. they are going to ask them out for a meal. we are going to need to go too. oh, my god--”

“kitten.”

“what?!”

“do me a favour and shut up.”

the dim hallway reminds you of the first time he has his hand wrapped around your throat. hours after you removed the oncology report from his folder meant to be submitted to doctor kim.

you remember the fiery hatred in his eyes. the burning sensation of the wine you downed just seconds before you got the door open, thinking it was your mother.

but this time, his hands were on your waist, his physique gently pressing against yours against the wall behind you when he fits his lips between yours.

you remember the feeling of the cool wine hitting your skin after the arrogant smile you had on your face was completely wiped away by him pinning you to the kitchen island.

your palms greet his chest as they slide up over his shoulders, getting your fingers tangled in his hair feels like he was becoming part of you.

as if he wasn’t already.

time?

one decade.

memories?

a million.

heartbreaks?

four in total, two each.

the first heartbreak, orchestrated by the enemy.

the second heartbreak, broken by a lover in silence.

death?

a better choice than being anywhere else besides in his arms.

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

Epilogue

A/N: I AM SAD

#hyunjae #lee hyunjae #the boyz hyunjae #the boyz #hyunjae fanfic #the boyz fanfic #timetohajima hostis #i am sad

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space-helen · 4 years ago

Text

Stress

Words: 1355

Pairing: Will Riker x Reader

A/N: I didn’t know what reasoning you wanted me to go with that the reader had started eating less so I went with a decreased appetite due to stress and shifts changing. I hope this is ok! I’m sorry if it’s not :( TW - eating less/eating disorder

Request: The reader stops eating. Will notices. - @Anon

_______________

You sat at the table in Ten Forward waiting for your boyfriend, the two of you had been seeing each other for a while and tried to have dinner with each other when you could, which happened to be most nights up until recently.

You’d both been working weird shifts, not seeing each other as much and to say the least you were stressed and with stress came your decreased appetite this especially didn’t help when your shifts were all over the place as well.

Will slipped into the chair opposite you and quickly ordered some food. “Are you getting anything?”

“No it’s ok I’ve already eaten.”

The man’s eyes studied you for a second, the two of you would usually wait for each other before eating, after all that’s what having dinner together was meant to be. “Are you sure you don’t want dessert or something?”

“I’m good.”

He nodded “how’s your day been? I’m sorry I couldn’t get off of shift any earlier.”

“There’s no need to apologise, don't be silly. Everything should go back to normal soon and we can spend more time together then.” you fidgeted with your hands under the table.

You sat with Will as he ate, engaging in small talk about your days. Trying to engage fully in the conversation but being rather passive. “Y/N are you alright? You seem on edge.”

The thought of not working was making you anxious, you’d rather be working right now to get on top of things “Yeah I’m fine it’s just… I have a lot of work to do.”

“You don’t have to sit with me, watching me eat can’t be that fun. I understand if you want to go and crack on with things.”

“I want to be here with you.” you reached over the table and placed your hand on his and gave it a squeeze. He flipped his hand and slotted his fingers between yours.

The night passed quickly but Will could tell that something was off but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

You laughed at the man’s joke as you both grabbed lunch, walking to a table you sat together. “This morning has been the worst.” he commented

“Tell me about it, hitting that comet was less than ideal.”

You picked at your food as he ate his, talking small bites here and there but not nearly enough to make a dent in your meal. “Commander Riker to the bridge.”

Will stopped what he was doing, annoyance on his face. “On my way.” he took another large fork full of food before dropping it to the plate. “I’ll see you later.” leaning forward he placed a kiss to your cheek before striding away to the bridge.

You looked around the room before picking up Will’s plate, sliding yours on top of it and walking to the disposal. You felt bad for wasting so much food but really couldn’t bring yourself to eat.

When Will said see you later this is not what you expected. The table was surrounded with all your friends sharing dinner but you couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy the moment. It had been a while since you’d eaten a full meal due to stress but you needed to try, even though looking at the food made you feel unwell.

You looked down at your plate and moved everything around with your fork, you’d eaten about a quarter of the meal. “Are you ok?” Will’s hand was on your leg and he moved in close to be as discreet as he could.

Tears threatened to burst from your eyes. “I’m sorry I really don’t feel very well. I think I’m going to go back to my quarters”

He put an arm around your shoulders and brought you close, rubbing your arm up and down to comfort you “It’s ok.” he placed a kiss to your temple “I’ll come over after.”

“You don’t need to.” you gave the man a weak smile before addressing the rest of the table “I don’t feel too well I’m heading back to my quarters. Thank you for the company though.” with that you quickly left.

Rushing to your quarters you changed before slumping into bed, wrapping yourself up into a small cocoon you let yourself cry. Everything was getting to you.

Deanna slid over a chair to get closer to Will “I think Y/N’s unwell because she’s stopped eating. I thought I sensed it and noticed it the other day but I didn’t want to pass judgement.”

“I noticed it yesterday. I’ll go speak to her”

“Take some plain food that she likes, and some juice.”

He nodded and stood, quickly grabbing you some food before disappearing after you. You’d forgotten to lock your quarters doors so he slipped inside with ease. Slowly walking around the room searching for you until he saw you curled up in bed, a broken smile adorned his lips.

“Y/N” he softly called as he moved closer to the bed, putting down everything on your dresser as he passed it.

You sat up in your cocoon and looked at him, he could clearly see the tear stains down your cheeks. “Awh Y/N” his voice broke and he came and sat next to you, gathering you in his arms and hugging you close.

You stayed silent as he just held you. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. I know you’ve stopped eating, you can talk to me about it ok?”

You nodded against his chest and unwrapped yourself “You’re right. I don’t even know why I tried to hide it. I’ve just been really stressed and when I get stressed I forget to eat and my appetite goes down then when I do want to eat I can’t stomach a full meal. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. We’re all worried about you though.”

“All worried? Who else knows?”

“Just Deanna I think she noticed the other day.” he stood and moved over to the food and brought it to you “She suggested I bring you some plain food that you like. Please can you try and eat this for me?”

You gave the man a small nod “I’ll try my best.”

He put his hand on the side of your face and let his thumb stroke over it, you leant into his hand “Take as much time as you need you just need to eat it and drink something too.”

You took the plate from the man as he moved around the room and stripped off his uniform into his underwear, before putting on some pyjamas. He slid into the bed and you crawled up next to him. “We’re going to watch a movie while you eat, then we’re going to cuddle and sleep. Tomorrow morning I’ll grab you a light healthy breakfast and we’ll eat in here. We’ll see how you feel after that and we’ll either pay Doctor Crusher a visit or Deanna but you’re seeing one of them tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you for caring”

His face dropped at your words, of course he loved and cared about you. “Y/N I love you, you know that? I just want you to be happy and healthy.”

“I know. I love you too” tears threatened to fall again.

“Hey, hey come here.” he opened his arms and you leant into them.

You cried into his chest for a while before pulling away. “I’m so stupid.” you said with a broken smile as you laughed through the tears, pulling the plate onto your lap you took a bite of the food.

Will smiled as he searched for a movie, he knew this wasn’t a quick fix but you 're ok and they’d caught it before it was too late. You were usually so strong, stronger than he could be but the past couple of weeks had had an effect on everyone, some worse than others.

He wanted you to be happy and healthy, back to your usual self. He needed you as much as, maybe even more than, you needed him.

Tag List: open

Riker:

All Star Trek: @morganofthecoves1 @sophiaescapes @livenerdyandprosper @allthetrek @deeppandanerdbatty

#will riker x reader #william riker x reader #star trek x reader #star trek tng x reader

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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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pangtasias-atelier · 5 years ago

Note

Ferdinand left the Empire after what happened to his family and when he found out about Hubert's off-the-book executions and assassinations. Even still, Dimitri doesn't trust him, so he keeps a close eye on him. But instead, he notices Ferd gradually getting fatter. One day, he sees Ferd pop a button after eating and it's just too much. Dimitri decides to bring Ferd to his room, forcefeed him until he's ready to burst, then claim that plump Empire butt all for himself (NSFW Drabble)

Sooo, I had a lot of fun with this one ajdnshsms. It may have been just being able to write some simple chub stuff or also just finally getting to write on my laptop but here ya go!

I'm really proud of how this one came out so I hope you enjoy it!!

And the cheesecake portion was a bit based on how I felt eating half a cheesecake sjdkskns

All smut will be tagged #risque

_________________

Strands of golden hair mar Dimitri’s face as his reflection stares back at him. His soft light blue irises of his reflection peer away from Dimitri, the edge of his eyes crinkling as he splashes some more cold water on his face. Nearly deigning the thought of waterboarding himself, the thought tumbles out of his disoriented brain as another crazed and ridiculous scene takes hold of his imagination.

Long rich orange lock cascading down, the seamlessly flawless hair swishes behind its owner as they delicately step forward. Cape forgone, the once well-tailored coat now seems far too tight. The hint of a curvaceous ass bounces under the tight oppression of the mid-knee length coat, each movement and ripple only tempting Dimitri. A dark blue belt embroidered with gold, the obvious intent upon the outfit’s inception had been to elongate and slim its wearer. Now, it only does the opposite, their bulging midsection forced into two, the soft warm pudge from his upper abdomen and lower abdomen squishing to conceal most of the belt altogether. The puff of his enlarged chest makes the opening of his coat seem larger, bulging out further to give it depth. His red cravat rests on top of his chest, as if puffing his chest out. The outline of his adipose filled body rests under it, his arms making the sleeves bulge as well. New folds and wrinkles on his clothes where there once was none, the extra weight the clear culprit, its owner seems unbothered, no upsize or let out seams done to it. Armor unneeded, their blue pants constrict and hold back his squished, compressed legs, overhanging folds of flab visible. The figure turns to Dimitri, Ferdinand smiling and waving at him. Their filled out face only adds to their idiotic charm, their bright eyes and smile illuminating the cold darkness further. A sea of blue washes them away quickly enough.

Grunting, Dimitri’s soaking face heaves. Gripping the edge of the sink, his knuckles turn white, the delicate porcelain emitting a dangerous sharp crack before he lets go. Coughing, Dimitri yanks the nearest towel. Roughly blotting his drenched face, the low sting of the fabric scratching at his face is unnoticeable, the rise and fall of his chest more important. Rising to his full height, Dimitri shifts his efforts on drying his hair. Thin strands eventually fall back into place as they dry, Dimitri tossing the towel away. Taking a deep breath, he exhales, his broad shoulders sagging.

His stomach grumbling, Dimitri heads to the dining room. No sense of taste or smell really left, grabbing something to munch on then leave, sounds ideal.

Finding Ferdinand seated, the idea suddenly feels far less than ideal. The notion of slinking away unnoticed poofs away as Ferdinand spots.

“Ah, Prince Dimitri. A pleasure to see you!” Ferdinand jovially calls from his seat before rising.

Dimitri hopes imagining the cool splash of water helps calm down the heat rushing to his face, Ferdinand’s plump figure just as ripe as his vivid imaginations. In fact, the realization of his own thoughts underselling Ferdinand's figure only makes the rising heat worse.

“Prince Dimitri, are you perhaps unwell?” A delicate yet chubby hand rests against Dimitri’s forehead.

“I’m not your prince, you needn’t worry about me,” Dimitri gently extricates Ferdinand’s hand from his forehead.

“Nonsense, I swore my absolute fealty to one deserving of it,” Ferdinand doesn’t catch the hint, wrapping his arm around Dimitri. “While I must admit, my father may have tarnished our name, I, Ferdinand Von Aegir swear that the name till holds some decency to it,” Pressing an open palm to his soft moobs, Ferdinand bows, his long flowing hair suffering the effects of gravity, the same as his stomach.

To most others, Ferdinand’s words of bravado would sound none other than those of a pathetic socialite wishing to worm their way into whichever upper echelon of society. But to everyone else, Ferdinand’s manner of bearing his entire heart on his sleeve is his charm, the overly enthusiastic noble meaning well.

Originally a part of the Black Eagles house, Ferdinand had quickly become a fixture of the Blue Lions after a few months of Byleth’s cajoling. Upon Edelgard’s declaration of war, he had left for Adestria upon Byleth’s disappearance only to quickly come back upon hearing news of their return. The reunion with his former classmates had been moderately well received, Mercedes and Ashe no strangers to kindness, until Dimitri’s sighting of Ferdinand had nearly left the former Adrestian noble with a spear in his abdomen. With Byleth’s insistence, Dimitri had tsked but ultimately skulked away, his dreadful lumbering footsteps etching their way into everyone’s mind.

Dimitri still partially not all quite there, he had thankfully resigned ignoring Ferdinand just the same as everyone else, a tense uneasy partnership occurring between Dimitri and everyone else. It hadn’t been until much later that Dimitri snapped out of it, slowly easing himself back into the human emotions that he had casted away. And upon gaining focus on his fellow members, Dimitri’s eyes found that removing focus from Ferdinand was proving to be rather challenging.

And while a part of it had to do with his infectious cheerful nature, the other part of his clearly had to do with Ferdinand’s body. Lithe muscle nowhere to be found, the initial realization of enjoying the view of Ferdinand’s heft had led to some confusion before that strayed to wondering how it must feel, so warm and soft.

Which made it increasingly harder for Dimitri to speak to Ferdinand.

“Thank you,” Dimitri clears his suddenly parched throat. “Ferdinand,” Even speaking his name brings a trickle of warmth in his chest, the thought of whispering it to him, the two huddled together, clothes strewn about as-

“Of course. Well, I’m sure you must be famished after our sparring session earlier, you nearly rushed out after we finished,” Hand encapsulating Dimitri’s Ferdinand leads him back to his table, half his plate left uneaten.

The servers immediately bringing, a plate to Dimitri, the serving of chicken with vegetables is barely a spoonful more than Ferdinand’s remnants. Only a couple of bites into the meal, Dimitri’s fork hangs still, midway to his mouth, upon the sound of a dull ping hitting the floor. Reflexively looking around, Dimitri spots the culprit. Careful to not keep his mouth agape, a button on Ferdinand’s coat had popped off, his vest showing.

Ferdinand’s eyes wide, his hands scramble to cover the mishap.

Unable to process anything else, Dimitri stands up and grabs Ferdinand’s hand. Leading him away, Ferdinand’s puffs of complaints and questions draw some attention from the few people littered around the monastery at this semi-late hour. Upon reaching his room, the two step in, Ferdinand highly confused as he stutters out half-baked apologies, too focused on trying to hide the noticeable gap in his coat from his popped button.

Dimitri absorbing the situation, he balks at himself for being so rash. To drag Ferdinand to his room, all for what? For the unlikely chance of something more. And the far more likely chance of making things impossibly awkward between the two. Yet glancing back at the other man, Dimitri finds his worries washing away, Ferdinand staring at him with a sudden shyness.

“I…” Dimitri clamps his mouth, the trapdoor of awkwardness closing and opening. “I think you’re handsome,” His eye shut tight, the ensuing silence drives him mad, the silence unable to be stabbed like most other things.

“You truly believe so?” Ferdinand’s eyes already misting at the edge, his amber eyes remain in tentative shock. He reaches a shaky hand downward. “Despite all this?” Grabbing his stomach, the pile of supple fat only seems larger so up close.

“Because of all this,” Gently laying a hand on Ferdinand’s love handle, Dimtri brings him closer. One arm wrapped around him, the tight embrace allows him to feel nearly every inch of Ferdinand, everything so soft. Leaning down, Dimitri holds up Ferdinand’s chin, his thumb gently rubbing the edge of his lips. With bated breath, his lips crash into Ferdinand’s. The excessive force makes him stumble, Dimitri’s rough hand on his lower back keeping him steady. Huffing, Dimitri pulls back. His face a red shade, the tint is nothing but a red ant to the sun in comparison to Ferdinand’s blazing face.

“I have something I need to prepare. Don’t leave,” Turning around, Dimitri stumbles back at the awkward exit. Professing his love only to leave. Turning back around, he grabs Ferdinand’s hand with his own once more. “Please,” Gently squeezing it, Ferdinand nods, his face not losing a single tint to his radiant red hue.

Slowly making his way back into the hall, the instant Dimitri feels he’s out of ears reach, he rushes. Taking long strides, he scares the poor merchants in the marketplace with his sudden appearance. Knowing the time, the leftover selection from the bakery’s goods for the day are surprisingly still abundant. Nearly reaching for enough money to buy the entire selection, he calms his overactive brain. Setting on a somewhat more reasonable selection, he instead purchases an entire cheesecake.

The cake in hand, it takes all his nerves of dropping the cake to not rush back. Not even having been gone for what can possibly be more than a few minutes, the fear of Ferdinand leaving keeps his pace quick, Dimitri finding himself back in front of his door in no time.

The door nearly slamming open, Ferdinand jumps up. His stomach sloshing about, he gingerly places a hand on it. His eyes avert themselves from the cake in Dimitri’s hands, Ferdinand’s face flushed.

Wordlessly, Dimitri cuts a slice, the huge chunk a quarter of the entire cake. Ferdinand ready to accept, an insistent hand from Dimitri stops him. Grabbing a bit with a fork, Dimitri expectantly brings it to Ferdinand’s mouth, his good eye agape.

“Oh,” Letting out a chuckle, Ferdinand takes a gulp before taking a bite of the cake. His face alighting from the taste, Ferdinand happily accepts the second bite. And then the third. And then each ensuing bite until the slice is finished. Enough leverage allowed from one button already destroyed, the rest remain snugly but securely on his bulging stomach. Dimitri immediately cuts another slice. Ferdinand’s eyes widen, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. “I didn’t know you were into…” Ferdinand pauses, considering his words. “Such things,”

Dimitri nearly nods, bringing another bite to Ferdinand.

“If you insist,” Shakily taking another bite, the sweet cool creamy texture of the cake lulls him back to his enjoyment of the delicacy. Unfastening his belt, Ferdinand lets out a sigh before he sits upright, Dimitri’s free hand rubbing it. Another bite offered, Ferdinand keeps at, only slowing down near the end of the slice, both his hands on his own engorged stomach along with Dimitris. “Dimitri,” Ferdinand groans, huffing as he lies down. “I can’t anymore,” Pawing at his own belly, the mass of fat and food rises into the air with each strained breath.

A hand caressing his cheek, Ferdinand lets out an ‘oof’ as Dimitri helps him sit. His gut resting on his plump thighs, Ferdinand merely groans. A hand on his coat, he yelps as Dimitri tears it, the buttons flying across the room. A hand on his waistline, his suddenly unbuttoned pants give him some breathing room. His vest grabbed, Ferdinand obligingly lifts up his arms, the sense of freedom for his aching gut relieving. His undershirt goes next, both tossed into a heap on the floor. A hand tugging at his pants, Ferdinand pauses, resting his hand on top of Dimitri’s. Dimitri’s calm face staring at his, Ferdinand lets him continue, Ferdinand left in nothing but the tight fabric of his boxers.

Resting his back against the wall. Ferdinand continues to groan. Some more shuffling fabric, he keeps his eyes closed until more cake is pressed against his lips. He does, however, ignore the noticeable erection in Dimitri’s pants, Ferdinand somehow redder than before.

Dimitri shirtless, he holds the last half of the cheesecake.Ferdinand huffs. “You love cheesecake,” Dimitri whispers.

“Sometimes there are limits,” Dimitri’s hands not moving, Ferdinand scoffs. “You beast,” But that doesn’t stop Ferdinand smiling as he accepts the heaping bite of cake.

Wishing to get on it, patience not one of Dimitri’s stongsuits, he spears the cake with his fork, heaping portions offered each time Ferdinand almost finishes one bite. His chewing slows down, his swallowing slows down, the smack of his squirrel cheeks slow down, Ferdinand reaching dangerous levels of full.

Bits of cream on his lips, remnants from his dozes of prior bits still remain in his mouth, willing himself to eat more. Swallowing, the bits feel like lead slowly dropping down only to punch his gut on the way there. “Dimitri. I don’t think I can,” Groaning, he smears the frosting with his arm, the pale flesh on his arm jiggling. “Truly,”

“You can,” Dimitri rubs slow circles on Ferdinand’s gut. “Just a few more bites, I know you can do it,” Bringing the second to last bite, Dimitri forcefully shoves it in, Ferdinand struggling to chew it. His heavy breathing coming from his nose now, before he can swallow the last bits, Dimitri shoves the last heaping forkful in his mouth, Ferdinand painfully smacking his tired lips in an attempt to finish it all.

Wasting no time, Dimitri helps Ferdinad rest his back against his bed. Ferdinand’s labored chewing and groans egging him, he quickly disrobes, his slim yet built body glistening in anticipation. Gripping Ferdinand’s boxers, he tugs them off to reveal his own chubbed up dick, the thick shaft of it slowly engorging. Climbing onto the bed, Dimitri rests his knees right in front of Ferdinand’s dick.

Ferdinand finally finishes the cake, his mouth so dry and tired. “I…. ugghhh,” Clinging the bedsheets, his hands go to his bulging midsection as Dimitri lifts up his legs. His moobs squishing into his double chin, his overtaxed stomach rests heavily as the overfilled lump falls down.

Dimitri placing his arms under Ferdinand’s legs, he slowly aligns himself. His dick slick with precum, he slowly enters. Dimitri groans as the warmth of Ferdinand’s hole envelops his dick. Ferdinand right underneath him, his breath turns labored as Ferdinand squirms, rubbing his stomach.

“I’ll take care of that in a bit,” Leaning forward, Dimitri kisses Ferdinand, a trail of saliva sticking as they part. Ferdinand grimaces as his legs bend a bit more than they’re used to at this weight, nodding his head instead.

Unable to wait much longer, Dimitri thrusts into Ferdinand, Ferdinand’s hands now reaching for Dimitri’s back. Ferdinand’s noises sounding under him, the always chipper, bright man simply huffs under Dimitri, biting his lips as he tries to hold back his moans.

Wishing to get closer, Dimitri wraps his arms under Ferdinand, embracing him as he humps him. Digging his head into the crevice of Ferdinand’s neck, Dimitri huffs.

“D-dimitri,” Ferdinand gutturally moans, right into his ear. Cum sticking against his warm body, Dimitri nearly chuckles as Ferdinand cums so early. His body reprimanding him, his knees buckle as he feels himself so dangerously close, his throbbing dick begging for a release. Giving in, Dimitri crushes Ferdinand in his embrace, his soft supple body digging into his muscles.

"Tired,” Dimitri's arms shake. Huffing, he ignores his own seed slowly spilling out of Ferdinand's ass, as he pulls out. Ferdinand exhausted, his belly rises with each tired labored breath he takes. No important task required of him tomorrow, Dimitri reserves the task of cleaning themselves up tomorrow with a warm shared shower. Crawling beside Ferdinand, Ferdinand leans back into Dimitri as his body is cradled in Dimitri's built arms. Spooning Ferdinand, he breathes in his scent, his dreams knowing peace as he dreams of fattening Ferdinand further.

#my writing #risque #risqué #fat!ferdinand #fat!threehouses #male weight gain

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 5 years ago

Text

Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Eleven

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

The women from the Queen’s family were exceptionally nice. Barbara had a couple kids who were apparently being looked after by a couple of the guards while they were here. Helen was single, but she didn’t seem troubled by that one bit and sat observing everything and everyone with a mysterious smile on her face. Then there was Jemma, who was apparently a lesbian and looking for a partner, but she had so far had no success.

“I mean, it’s just so unfair that all the cute ones are straight,” Jemma said to Roman in quiet tones as the other women talked around them.

“Tell me about it,” Roman sighed. “It seems like everyone I’ve ever liked is someone my parents have disapproved of. This marriage seems more like one of convenience and allyship than anything else. I like boys, but...well...” Roman looked around before whispering in Jemma’s ear, “I feel like a boy more often than my mother cares to know about.”

Jemma sent him a searching look. “Genderfluid?” she asked under her breath. “Or just a man?”

“Just a man,” Roman said with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter to my mom any, she still thinks it’s a sin or whatever.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Ugh, those. I hate those. If I were made Queen, I would outlaw all homophobes and send them into exile.”

“Probably why you’re not Queen,” Roman said with a sneaky grin.

“Probably,” Jemma agreed.

Roman went back to his drawing, a rough sketch of Damien. He tried to reason it was to practice different facial structures, but he wasn’t fooling even himself. He knew it was because Damien was persistently on his mind in a romantic fashion. Jemma nudged him quietly and whispered to him, “Did Damien tell you about his little secret about love?”

Turning dark red, Roman nodded. “We’ve discussed it before,” he mumbled. “At least one cute one isn’t straight.”

Jemma laughed and Roman offered her a hesitant grin. When the other ladies had looked over at them before continuing their discussion, Jemma murmured, “How true. You got lucky, in that respect. And I know the King and Queen are accepting, for whenever you tell them.”

“Oh, they know,” Roman said, a sly grin on his face. “They’re getting me fit for a suit for the wedding, to send a message to my parents.”

Jemma clamped a hand over her mouth, and she was shaking in her laughter. “Oh, that will be a sight to see!” she exclaimed, patting Roman’s shoulder. “I can’t wait for the wedding, I’m absolutely certain it will be brilliant!”

Roman grinned. “I’m pretty sure it won’t be as spectacular as you’re imagining,” he said.

“Oh, but you’ll still do amazing, sweetie,” Jemma said with a wink. “I’m certain of it.”

Roman offered her a nervous laugh and scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not,” he admitted.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve seen these sorts of things work out before, you’d be surprised,” Jemma said sagely.

“Something funny going on over there?” the Queen asked with a smile.

“Just talking about plans for the wedding,” Jemma said with a wave. “Talking about the ways things could go wrong, and reasoning why it will all work out.”

The Queen nodded. “Always a good thing,” she said. “And what conclusions have you come to?”

“That the wedding is probably going to be a glorious disaster,” Roman said with a laugh. “Because we all know that I’m a wreck when nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about,” Helen said. “Damien is lovely, and we all know that he will love you unconditionally.”

Roman’s cheeks heated up at that thought. “I don’t know about unconditionally,” Roman laughed. “I could do some pretty bad things without looking where I’m leaping.”

“But if you work together to fix it, that only proves how strong your bond is,” Barbara continued sagely. “Trust me, Veronica. You’ll do fine.”

Roman somehow didn’t flinch at his deadname, didn’t feel the same sting that he usually did. He wasn’t sure if that was a promising sign, or a sign that he was dissociating. Possibly both, if everything felt bad enough. He wouldn’t have to feel all the pain that came next. He fiddled with the pencil in his hands. He wasn’t feeling overwhelmed, per se, but all these eyes on him made him uneasy. He let out a sigh. “I hope so,” was all he said, turning back to his sketchbook.

The women all went back to talking, and this time, Jemma spoke with the rest of them. Roman didn’t hear his deadname being used at all, so he could rest easy. But then the Queen said something, and his eyes snapped up to her just a little too quickly to be inconspicuous. “...name was Roman,” the Queen said.

His mother sent him a warning glance when he looked up, but he couldn’t help that he looked over to where his name was being used. He didn’t know any of the context but hearing his name was a breath of fresh air, even if it wasn’t being used for him.

“...And of course, Roman was the adventurous sort, exploring everywhere he could,” the Queen laughed. “He truly was a remarkable man. I miss him to this day.”

The others nodded along. “What happened?” Roman asked Jemma softly.

“Talking about an old school friend,” Jemma said quietly. “You doing okay? You seemed to be elsewhere for a majority of the conversation.”

“I think I’m fine,” Roman said uncertainly. “I just...have a lot to think about.”

“Do you need to lie down?” Jemma said a little louder. “You look a little pale.”

Roman shrugged. “Honestly, I think I’ll be fine,” he said, knowing he would get hell for leaving the room early, sick or not.

“No, honey, go lie down,” the Queen instructed. “It’s better that you rest if you’re feeling unwell. We don’t want you feeling sick on your wedding day.”

“You’re sure?” Roman asked weakly.

“I’ll walk you to your room myself if I have to,” the Queen said. “Please go lie down.”

Roman nodded and gathered up his pencils and sketchbook, saying, “It was lovely to meet you all,” and leaving.

To Roman’s mild surprise, the second he was out of sight of the room his legs went weak and he felt like he was about to pass out. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and taking a couple deep breaths. This wasn’t being sick. He knew what that was like, and this wasn’t it. He felt more like he had just ran a marathon with no chance to stop for water. His head felt like it was filled with cotton, and his ears were ringing, and his whole body was screaming in exhaustion.

Someone was walking up to him slowly, asking...something. Roman couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. He tried to place the face of the man, and he knew they had talked before, but he couldn’t. Roman felt his legs crumple as his vision went dark. The man shouted in alarm, just barely catching Roman and placing him propped up against the wall.

Roman was barely conscious for some indeterminable amount of time, during which there was a lot of shouting, and people suddenly swarming the hall. He couldn’t hear anything they were saying, their voices too distorted to pick out any words. He was picked up and carried through the castle. It wasn’t at a run, because he wasn’t being jostled, but they were certainly moving fast.

When he was put down, he was laying on some surface that had a little bit of give, but not enough to feel like a bed. A light was shown in his eyes and he winced, whimpering and trying to shy away from it. That was really unpleasant, did they have to do that right in his eyes?

More talking happened overhead and suddenly someone was pouring small amounts of water into Roman’s mouth. He drank what he could of it, still incredibly out of it but at least thankful for the water. When he started to choke the water stopped, but he swallowed the last of it before his eyes closed, taking away the smears of color and plunging him into unconsciousness.

When Roman woke up, it was to the feeling of something fanning his face and fragments of words he couldn’t piece together.

“...Found him...”

“...Been unconscious?”

“Half an hour, maybe?”

Audio was starting to come back, and Roman wanted to respond, but all he could do was take a sharp breath and start violently coughing. Someone propped him up at an angle and slowly, as he tried taking deep breaths, he settled the coughing and his pounding heart. He cracked his eyes open to find Damien, Virgil, a couple guards, a doctor, and the King standing there. “How are you feeling, Veronica?” the doctor asked.

Roman coughed a couple more times before saying, “‘S Roman.”

“No head trauma, then?” Damien asked, sounding slightly hysterical.

“Well, just because he has a sense of self does not mean no head trauma, but it is highly unlikely he suffered a concussion, seeing as how Virgil caught him before he hit the ground. But yes, he did just pass his first cognitive test.”

“Hm?” Roman asked. “My mother could’ve been here, an’ then I would’ve had to lie.”

“Precisely the reason we didn’t let her or anyone else know that you passed out yet,” Damien said, taking Roman’s hand and squeezing it. “My dear, you’re going to make me go gray before the week is up.”

Roman weakly smiled. “Sorry...just can’t help...falling for you.”

Damien laughed. “Technically, you fell for Virgil this time,” he said, wrinkling his nose as he grinned.

“Roman, when was the last time you had something to drink?” Virgil asked.

“Uh...dunno,” Roman managed. “Was kinda recently, though. Like, within the hour?”

“So dehydration wouldn’t do it, would it?” Virgil asked the doctor.

“Not at first glance, no,” the doctor said. “It’s quite possible that it was just simple exhaustion. Not enough sleep compounded with everything he’s done today.”

“Mm,” Roman groused, “My mother woke me up early today.”

“That would do it,” the doctor said. “Too much effort without enough rest. I advise you to lie low for the time being, Roman. I will check on you in fifteen minutes, and if I decide you’re healthy enough to be left alone, we can get you back to your room. Sound good?”

Roman gave the doctor a thumbs-up and he and most of the guards left, until only Damien, Virgil, and the King remained. “You scared me!” Virgil accused the second they were alone. “Don’t you dare do that again! I thought you were dying!”

“Nah...takes more ‘n that...to kill me,” Roman laughed. “Can I get water?”

Damien passed him an open bottle and he sipped from it. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Damien asked.

Roman shrugged. “The ladies said...said I looked pale. Her Majesty was sending me to my room when I passed out. Didn’t even realize I was tired until I was alone. Did dissociate for a bit in the day room, though.”

Damien sighed. “Roman, you will be the death of me!” he exclaimed. “You need to take it easy, and not push yourself beyond your limits!”

“Sorry, honey,” Roman teased, “But that’s my best quality.”

“Not funny,” Damien said with a scowl. “I was terrified, Roman. Virgil brought me and Father here and you were pale as a sheet, completely still on the bed. I thought someone had poisoned you and you were dying!”

Roman did feel a little guilt at that. “Sorry. I make light of dark situations to feel a little less bleak,” he said.

Damien pinched the bridge of his nose and made an irritated noise. “I don’t want to leave you alone. But Virgil has to go check in with the guards and make sure that my mother gets updated on the situation, and Father and I do have to get back to the meeting room soon or everyone will come looking for us.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be swamped by people I barely know,” Roman sighed.

“The doctor may be back in about ten minutes, but that still leaves ten minutes where you might be alone,” Damien said, massaging his forehead. “And I really don’t like that.”

“Hey, Damien, I’ll be fine,” Roman assured. “I can text or call Remus for company, and if something goes wrong the doctor will be here in ten minutes to see if I pass out again, which isn’t super likely. I’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry.”

Damien looked conflicted. “I still don’t want to leave you,” he said.

Roman offered him a smile. “I know. And I’m honored. But you have work to do, and what are the odds that I’m going to take it easy if we start to joke around?”

Damien groaned. “You make a good point, and I hate it,” he groused. “All right. I’ll leave you alone for now, but I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Of course,” Roman said with a smile. “If for no other way than you breaking down the door to my guest room and insisting we both eat dinner on the bed.”

“I’m more chivalrous than breaking down the door,” Damien huffed.

“But you would still come into my room regardless of the state of the door,” Roman said with a grin. “Go on. Go to your meetings. I’ll be fine.”

“All right. I look forward to seeing you at dinner, my dear,” Damien said, taking Roman’s hand and kissing his fingers.

Roman turned bright red as Damien and the King walked away. Virgil was smirking at him. “You know it’s obvious you have the hots for him, right?”

“Shut up,” Roman groaned. “I don’t want to think about how he probably knows I’m crushing on him.”

“Oh, no, he has no clue,” Virgil said with a laugh. “He’s completely oblivious on that front. But no one else is.”

“Gee, thanks, I feel so much better,” Roman snarked.

Virgil shook his head and chuckled. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Good to know,” Roman said, and Virgil retreated.

Roman opened his phone and saw he had two texts from Remus. got some free time to talk, if you’re up for it and ro? you there?

Roman sighed. The first text was sent half an hour ago, so he doubted Remus would still be free. He texted back, sorry, re. i was out cold when you texted

The response he got was almost immediate. out cold?! wtf?! what happened?!

Roman knew that Remus was probably sneaking texts wherever he was in the castle, or else just blatantly ignoring whoever he was talking to in order to talk to Roman. He didn’t want to take up too much of Remus’ time, but he knew that at this point Remus would not stop investigating until he knew that Roman was all right. He was an annoying brother in that respect. passed out in one of the hallways, apparently. mom woke me up early, after i had a panic attack last night, so the doc suspects i was just exhausted

i’m going. to kill her.

Roman resisted the urge to snicker. normally i wouldn’t stop you, but right now my escape hinges on her playing nice

The growl was almost audible in Remus’ text. you’re right, and i hate that you’re right. i’m still going to rip her intestines out with a rusty spoon the second i get a chance

ewwwww. remus! enough with the gorey metaphors! we agreed! Roman rolled his eyes and tried to not turn green.

yeah, yeah, yeah. sorry

Roman smiled softly. don’t worry about it. what’s up?

ambassadors all vying for my attention, trying to figure out what the details of the wedding are. i’m ignoring them because i don’t know anything but they refuse to believe me

Roman laughed. That sounded about right. i guess that means no phone call?

father says i’m not allowed to call anyway without him around to listen in. technically i’m not supposed to be texting you, either, but he doesn’t know you’re in my phone as “The Holy Empire” :P

i hate you

love you too, ro <3

Roman sighed just as the doctor walked in. “Bad news?” the doctor asked.

“Brother,” Roman said. “Exactly as annoying as you’d expect.”

The doctor laughed. “Try not to let him under your skin too much. You need to rest this afternoon. How do you feel overall?”

“Considerably better,” Roman said. “But I would like to rest on a real bed.”

“Yes, I suppose the guards’ cots are not very comfy, are they?” the doctor asked. “Do you still feel dizzy at all? Any nausea? Headaches?”

“None,” Roman said. “I just really want to lie down for a couple hours doing nothing.”

“I can understand why,” the doctor said with a smile. “You can go back to your room. Just take it easy, all right? Don’t push yourself beyond your limits. I know the others will be discussing why you should be allowed to sleep in to your mother, but you can’t push yourself too far either.”

“Understood,” Roman said with a nod.

The doctor helped him stand, and when it was clear that Roman could handle himself, he made his way back to his room. He laid down on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling and letting himself just float in his own thoughts for a time. He didn’t want to deal with any of this for the considerable future. He wanted to sleep for the rest of the week and wake up a married man with plans to start his medical transition.

Unfortunately, it seemed like that wasn’t going to be a viable option. So instead he was going to lie still for a while, and when he was ready, he would gather up his art supplies and start drawing again.

He closed his eyes and must have dozed off because when he checked the clock another hour had passed. He sat up with a stretch and grabbed his sketchbook and pencils. He had no idea what he would draw, but he started sketching random shapes to see if anything came from them. He got a couple flowers, some random people that weren’t based on anyone he knew, and even got a small landscape of trees from it. He was pondering over what to do next, when his musings were interrupted by a knock at the door. He checked the clock. About time for dinner. He sighed, and stood to answer.

Tag List: @lunareclipse-13 @sanders-sides-crofters @blushy-gigglee-mess @wannacrymetoo @kaytikitty @magicalspacepanunicorn @bootsinthesun @pricklyfish777 @flowersanddinosaurs @leiasolo77 @birdybabybird @enby-phoenix @luna–28 @justagaygoose @the-prince-and-the-emo @fandomsandanythingelse @randommuffinyt @snekky-boi @thesoftestlittlepuffballwegot @twilight-trix @abby5577 @escalatingtoofast @friendlyfacestabbing @remus-is-stinky @foggybanditdreampeanut @ghostskull300 @sprinklestheditty @canvas-the-florist @askthesnake @samuel-the-gay @determination-saved @juicy-cashew @loganpatton @lilbeanblr @kittyboof8 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @sanders-trash-4ever @hamilspntrash @swords-and-kittens @phantomfander @narniasfinestavengingsociopath @rjmeta @ambersky0319 @anni-cat-flower @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @nafsbluebery @redisawerewolf23 @voidvirgil @msu82 @angstyfanfiction

#roceit #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #deceit sanders #virgil sanders #royal growing pains #our creations

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jjba-arni-reblog · 5 years ago

Note

Can I request a scenario with Caesar's s/o, who feels like that he's bored with them and flirts with other girls who are prettier than them, and he says that he still loves them. And to prove it he tells them that there still beautiful.

[Oh my lord, so first things first, THIS GOT TOO DEEP my dear anon! I got so invested and I went too deep. Also I decided to not include Caesar explicitly flirting, since I do realize that it might not quite fit his character when he is in a happy relationship. I see him as a strong man that is open to everyone, which could lead to misunderstandings. Also, I did not refer to girls in any bad light (only to compare to reader’s insecurity), since I do not like the idea of putting someone down for the sake of jealously/insecurity. BUT I do hope that you’ll like it! It was a pleasure of mine to write such work and I wish you all the best! - Arni

Beauty

Reassurance. Something that everyone craves. But what if the one providing it is suddenly distant? What made them distant in the first place?

Such thoughts attacked your mind as you started to notice more and more how seemingly friendly has Caesar become with others, especially girls.

You did trust your lover and tried your best to not feel worried each time you two would go out. Yet the voice in your head kept telling you otherwise, teasing and prompting you to doubt your every action as not to disappoint your lover.

Today you two went out, enjoying your time together as the warmth of Italy surrounded you. Deciding to take a break from all the walking, you two went to the nearest café in hopes of getting cold beverages and a light snack. Yet even there the voice wouldn’t let you relax, noticing every single detail in other girls, their superiority.

‘Look at this waitress, do you think she’ll look better with Caesar?’ the voice continued plaguing your mind

‘Maybe’ you mentally answered not quite sure what to think of the situation, trying your hardest to reassure yourself.

‘No, Caesar does love me, I know this’

While you heart screamed for you to not think of Caesar’s feelings so lowly, the voice continued overtaking your thoughts as you eyed every girl that Caesar encountered. Whether it was a simple consultant, a waitress or a friend of his, the voice continued.

‘They are all so pretty. So out of reach for you. But not for him’

And so, every nice word of Caesar towards someone brought more doubt into your poor heart, as you started to mentally distance yourself from Caesar.

‘Doesn’t he wish for someone better?’

‘Maybe it is pity that drives him’

‘He is so friendly and amazing, he’ll easily find another girl….yet what about you?’

‘Oh you, poor poor you. What is there for you to do, really? Who knows, maybe he already plans to leave you?’

‘Just accept it (y/n) and end his suffering. Break up with him before he gets tired’

As everything started to pile up, your precious smile that Caesar loved so much, was rarely present. Sweet words turned into worrisome ones, scared to disappoint the man. Scared of being a disappointment.

It seems like the voice had won. The only thing left to do is…

“My sunflower, are you unwell?” a warm voice called for you, trying its hardest to get your attention.

“Are you happy?” you turned to him, almost startling the man before you.

“What do you mean” Caesar’s voice

“You know…with me?” you answered quietly, almost hoping that he wouldn’t hear you. Quickly bringing you to his arms, the blonde was trying to catch your glance in order to find the answer to his growing worry.

“Please, my sunshine, tell me what is wrong? Tell me what’s on your pretty mind?” Caesar pleaded with you, making you look at him with teary eyes.

“I…these days I have been doubting….myself, my beauty. I see all those beautiful girls and it makes me feel so…vulnerable. I know it is selfish and I am ashamed of such ideas, especially when they didn’t do anything. It’s just that….you deserve so much better, Caesar and I want to be perfect for you” you finally revealed your true feelings, trying your hardest to not burst into tears right there.

Before you could say anything else, Caesar’s hold on you tightened, as he started to plant multiple kisses across your cheeks.

“My love, it hurts me to know that you were fighting with such emotions by yourself, I am sorry for not being there for you” Caesar’s voice cracked as he tried his best to not mirror your teary expression as if feeling your pain himself.

“Please, listen to me….

There is beauty of your eyes. The way the light up watching the sunset, eyeing the sunflowers I got you, looking into your eyes I fall in love with you even more. The beauty of your loving eyes, making me melt under your soft gaze, feeling my emotions getting out of control.

There is beauty of your strength. Your strong spirit and determination never fail to amaze me, making me respect and love even more. All your achievements, I am so proud of you, my love.

There is beauty of your voice. Your sweet voice saying my name. I can’t tell you how I feel each time you say my name softly in your sleep, making me lose. The way you say my name, it’s intoxicating, I crave more to hear the sweet sound. Your soft breathing as you fall asleep next to me, bringing me comfort knowing that you are here. By my side.

The beauty of your support, no matter my cruel past, you accepted me. With every flaw and dark corner of my past life, accepting all of me, without judgement.

The beauty of your touch, the way your hand fits perfectly in mine. The lingering touch of yours that I feel each time reluctantly going to the training. Feeling the warmth of your lips against mine, making me dizzy, almost drunk from your love.

The beauty of you”

The voice couldn’t convince you anymore.

The beauty has won

#jjba x reader #jjba headcanons #jjba #jojo x reader #jojo scenarios #jojo headcanons #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #caesar x reader #caesar zeppeli #caesar zeppeli x reader #caesar #jojo part 2

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lailaliquorice · 5 years ago

Text

throw kindness around like confetti

did I just write over 4k words on periods? yes, yes I did

so this was fun, inspired by this post from @soft-boi-six. periods are hell on earth as I’m sure anyone with a uterus will agree and I love jane being the mother hen/period fairy just as much as I love everyone deciding it’s her turn for a little tlc. never written a 5+1 fic before but I actually quite enjoyed it bc I could get each of the little bits done pretty quickly. tagging @tenpin-boleyn bc it was her suggestion that this should be written that ended in this c:

Living in a house with six women meant that periods were a common thing being dealt with. And as not only the assigned mum friend of the group but also the one who seemed to suffer the least every month, Jane had very willingly taken on the additional position of ‘the period fairy’. She already kept a close eye on her friends to make sure they looked after themselves so it was easy to add another thing to her watch list, and was always on hand with anything they needed when the time came.

Headaches and migraines were something that Catherine dealt with often. It hadn’t been hard to work out that they were linked to her emotions, since anxiety attacks were often plagued by stabbing pains at each temple and stressful days would usually trigger tension headaches that made it near impossible to do anything. But by far the worst were the skull-splitting migraines that accompanied her periods, leaving her bedbound for at least a day each month as the slightest movement was agony.

They always arrived like clockwork around an hour after she woke up on the first day, giving her enough time to get herself prepared and bunk down in her bed before the worst of the pain arrived. Occasionally she had less warning though, and when she was woken up one morning by a pulsating agony on one side of her head she knew it was going to be bad.

For a few minutes she stayed absolutely still and tried to breathe through the pain, terrified that if she sat up it would make everything so much worse. But she knew she had to get up before she could cocoon herself in her duvet for the rest of the day. With immense effort and a lot of stifled groans she forced herself to sit up, pausing for a moment on the edge of her bed to regulate her breathing again before she dared to stand up.

After the necessary bathroom trip she embarked on the mammoth task of getting downstairs, eyes only open a crack to look where she was going as the bright lights of the kitchen assaulted her vision. Every noise felt like thunder as she fumbled around in the medicine cabinet for the painkillers she needed, planning on just grabbing them and a glass of water before getting herself back into bed.

“Catherine?”

She let out a cry of pain as the voice sent agony shooting through her skull, clamping both hands over her ears and hunching forwards.

There was quiet for a moment before a gentle hand touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry love, it’s just me,” Jane whispered, and slowly Catherine was able to drop her hands when the pain subsided a little. “Caught you off guard, has it?”

“Mhm,” Catherine hummed. She couldn’t look at Jane, her chin on her chest as she kept her eyes shut against the pain.

“Here, let me help,” said Jane, nudging Catherine into taking a couple of steps backwards before she took over rummaging through the cupboard. Quickly she found the migraine tablets that Catherine got from the doctor, frowning when she looked inside and saw the box almost empty. “Did you set that reminder on your phone I asked you to last month?” she asked quietly, tutting a little when Catherine shook her head. She’d suggested a tracking app so that Catherine knew when she needed to renew her prescription and take her tablets in advance, aware that Catherine wasn’t always the best at prioritising her own health.

Catherine fidgeted nervously as Jane took her hand and pressed two tablets into her palm, swallowing them with a tiny sip of water. “Sorry,” she murmured.

Jane was surprised to see a tear tracking down her cheek when Catherine tilted her head up. “Oh love, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” she sighed with a smile, rubbing a soothing hand over Catherine’s upper arm. “Let’s get you back into bed, hmm?”

Giving Jane the tiniest nod in agreement, Catherine let Jane take her by the arm and help her slowly up the stairs. As Catherine eased herself back onto her pillow Jane made sure the curtains were fully closed and the light was off, before getting a cool flannel and laying it over her forehead in the hope that it would help with the pain.

“Call me if you need anything, alright?” she whispered as she tucked the duvet over Catherine’s huddled form.

Catherine hummed quietly, and with a quick kiss on her forehead Jane left her to try and get some sleep.

II.

Anne always found it fitting that her cycles were as unpredictable as she was. It did make life more difficult though; she could never predict when she’d be on for a show, and would usually end up calling in sick very last minute when the sudden onset of cramps left her unable to stand let alone dance. Her attempt at using tracking apps resulted in her phone being as confused as she was to when she’d be on next, so she abandoned all hope of getting an advanced warning and just accepted what she got.

Somehow though, Jane had managed to work out her own way of knowing. Anne wasn’t as much of a morning person as she and Aragon were but she was by no means a late sleeper, usually announcing her presence in the kitchen by 9:30 every morning except on her days off. Whenever Anne hadn’t appeared by half an hour later Jane knew she was either ill or on her period, and if she’d been fine the evening before it was fairly safe to assume it was the latter.

When the clock struck 10:15 Jane headed upstairs with a box of supplies she’d managed to pull together, consisting of pads and painkillers as well as a bar of chocolate. Anne was still curled up under her duvet when Jane peered around the door so she just left it on the end of her bed, figuring that Anne would come and find her if she needed anything else when she woke up.

That turned out to be less than a minute later, when Jane’s progress down the stairs was halted by a screech of “HOW DOES SHE KNOW!!”

Jane didn’t try to restrain her laughter as she turned round and headed back up the stairs, opening the door to see a very dishevelled Anne sat looking at her with an exasperated grin. “Seriously, how do you know? Even I never know!” she said, pretend outrage in her voice.

“It’s the mum senses, love,” Jane said with a wink, using Anna’s term for her innate ability to know when one of them was either in pain or doing something idiotic.

Anne groaned dramatically, one hand on her stomach as she stood up a little hunched over. “Honestly you’re probably right. Can I have a hand?”

“Of course.”

Hurrying across the room, Jane put an arm around Anne’s waist and let her sag into her side. She knew Anne didn’t like staying cooped up in her room alone when she wasn’t feeling her best so she didn’t bother suggesting she should stay in bed, instead just helping her downstairs to the kitchen. While Anne was in the bathroom Jane warmed up a hot water bottle for her, giving a sympathetic wince when Anne shuffled back through the kitchen into the living room.

Anne was curled up on a sofa with a blanket when Jane walked into the otherwise empty room, glancing up when she heard the door open and reaching out her arms in a grabbing motion towards her. Jane chuckled as the hot water bottle was snatched out of her hands, though her amusement turned into empathy when Anne pouted up at her as she pressed the hot water bottle against her stomach.

“You poor thing,” Jane said, sitting down beside her. Immediately Anne curled up into Jane’s side and rested her hear on her chest, letting out a quiet sound of contentedness when Jane started to run her fingers through her hair. It wasn’t often that Anne was clingy with her to quite that extent, that was more Kat’s style, but whenever she was unwell she always craved physical contact more than usual.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Jane glanced down at her and asked “Would you like me to call in sick for you today?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you like me to stay here with you for a while?”

“…Yeah.”

Jane smiled at Anne’s nervous answer, tightening the arm around her shoulders to hold her close for as long as she needed to.

III.

Anna was very good at just dealing with things. If she was under the weather she’d just dose up on cold medicine and power through, if she was hungover she’d just put her sunglasses on and get on with it, if she was injured she’d ignore it and insist she was fine until Jane managed to restrain her long enough to assess it. That was what she did; get up, get shit done, crash afterwards.

That didn’t mean she didn’t suffer in the process though. And that was especially accurate when it came to her periods, as in her opinion she could only describe them as ‘the back pain from Hell’. What was even worse was that the pain always outlasted her period itself, which as far as she was concerned was just unfair.

When she stood up to get into her costume before a show and felt the first twinge of pain in her lower abdomen she paused in her tracks, groaning quietly as she let her eyes fall shut for a moment. She’d be fine for the show if she took painkillers fast but she already knew the rest of the day and the next few as well would not be enjoyable at all.

“Anna? What’s the matter?”

Anna looked over at Jane’s concerned voice, wondering at first what she was doing in the other dressing room before remembering she was with them today since her mirror lights weren’t working. “My uterus is playing the jaws theme song,” she joked, straightening up and taking her costume off the hanger.

“Oh,” Jane said with a nod, watching Anna for a moment before she asked “What’s the jaws theme song?”

There was a moment’s pause, before Anna, Anne, and Aragon were all howling with laughter. “Sorry babes, oh shit,” Anna choked out between laughs, one hand on her stomach as the pain was aggravated by her laughter. “Someone gimme a hand, we gotta keep showing her these references,” she said, grinning at the very confused Jane.

Anne grabbed her phone from the desk and quickly pulled up a clip from the film to show her, who watched the screen with wide eyes as she tried to take in what she was being shown. “So it’s a warning for something coming,” Jane clarified, looking pleased with herself when everyone else nodded. “Right, ok. What’s coming?”

Anna rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she deadpanned “My period.”

“Oh! Why didn’t you just say! What do you need?” Jane was instantly asking, yanking her bag from under the desk and opening a side pocket to reveal enough tampons to kit out a menstruating army.

“Did you buy a year’s supply or something?” Anna asked jokingly, shaking her head when Jane held out a fistful towards her. “No no, I’m good thanks. Just some painkillers if you’ve got any.”

Sure enough, Jane unzipped another compartment of her bag to pull out an enormous box of double-strength ibuprofen tablets. “Here you go love, and I’m sure we can find you a hot water bottle for when we get home. At least it’s only a one show day today,” she said, smiling sympathetically as she passed Anna a sheet of tablets.

As she’d expected she managed to get through the show without any trouble at all, ignoring the building ache in her back that worsened right before the megasix. The minute they were off stage though she was trudging up the stairs towards the dressing rooms, throwing open her door and crashing heavily into her chair with her head rested on the desk.

A hand on her shoulder alerted her to Jane’s presence behind her. “How are you feeling love?” she asked quietly.

Anna just groaned in response, lacking the motivation or the care to come up with something more coherent.

Jane squeezed her shoulder, tugging her lightly until she sat up to see Jane stood there holding the clothes she’d worn to the theatre. “Come on, just got to get changed then we can go home and put a film on or something.”

Anna smiled faintly. Home and family was a nice prospect.

IV.

It wasn’t uncommon for Kat to end up in Jane’s bed in the middle of the night. Their rooms were next to each other so it wasn’t far for her to go in the darkness, and it meant that Jane was usually woken by her nightmares anyway so Kat didn’t feel quite so bad about bothering her. It wasn’t just nightmares and flashbacks that drove Kat to seek the comfort of her mother figure though, sometimes if she was feeling particularly miserable she would just want someone warm to huddle up against to make her feel better.

Jane was only dozing lightly when the sound of her door shifting over the carpet broke through the sleepy haze in her mind, so she rolled over and put her arm out as the mattress dipped and someone curled into her side. She cracked open an eye to check it really was Kat – occasionally when Anne’s night terrors were bad enough to drive her down the attic stairs she’d end up in Jane’s bed and even Cathy had turned up once – before she murmured “What is it sweetheart?”

Kat just groaned at first, tightening the arm around Jane’s stomach. That was enough to tell Jane that it wasn’t a nightmare that had brought Kat in, since if that had been the case the simple question would have been enough to coax out a tearful explanation. “Don’t like it,” she whimpered, her voice muffled by the material of Jane’s nightdress.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, darling,” Jane pressed softly, a twinge of worry in her chest.

After another few moments of silence, Kat mumbled an almost inaudible “Period.”

Jane nodded in understanding. “You just don’t feel good, do you?” she said as she stroked a hand over Kat’s hair. Her eyes were still closed though she didn’t need to see Kat to sense the discomfort in her tense body.

The pitiful hum of agreement drew a sympathetic noise from Jane, rubbing comforting circles into Kat’s tight shoulders in an attempt to get her to relax a little. “It’s alright love, I’ve got you,” she whispered, smiling a little as some of the tension in Kat’s arms lessened. “Have you taken any painkillers?”

At the tiny shake of Kat’s head, Jane pushed herself into a sitting position while ignoring the unwilling noise from Kat as she was dislodged from around Jane’s waist. “Sorry darling, but you need to take something,” Jane pointed out, chuckling lightly when Kat was still reluctant to let her go. “I promise I’ll be back in a second and we can go to sleep then. Ok?”

“…ok.”

Jane smiled, placing her hand on Kat’s head for a second before she wiggled out of her arms to get out of bed. Her footsteps were quiet as she padded down the stairs in her socked feet, very aware that Anna was probably asleep on the floor below, and thanks to her recent reorganisation of the medicine cabinet it was only a couple of minutes before she found what she needed and was heading back up the stairs with painkillers and a glass of water.

“Here you go love,” she said as she tapped Kat’s shoulder to get her attention, keeping one hand on the glass as Kat took the tablets just in case she dropped it.

As soon as she’d finished the water, Kat murmured “Sleepy time now. You promised.”

Chuckling quietly, Jane agreed “That I did,” as she climbed back into bed and opened her arms for Kat to curl back into her side. “Try and get some rest, hopefully you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Kat breathed out in quiet agreement, her body much less stuff as she wrapped an arm around Jane's waist and rested her head on her collar.

It was a few minutes of comfortable quiet before the last ounce of tension seeped from Kat’s limbs as she fell asleep. Jane smiled as she let herself relax too, happy to sleep herself now that she knew her baby was safe and looked after in her arms.

Cathy hated being ill. More than the physicality of it she hated not being able to do things, since any day not spent being productive was a day wasted as far as she was concerned. Aragon and Jane had given her many strict talking-to’s about that point of view, telling her sternly that she didn’t need to be creating something every hour or every day, and as much as she tried to take their words in she still hated whenever she was struck down so badly she had to give up on her work and take a day’s rest.

That meant that more often than not she hated the first day of her period. It didn’t happen every time, but when it did she would wake up feeling absolutely fine until she stood up. That was when her stomach would flip and she’d find herself racing to the bathroom as she was seized by nausea.

She didn’t hear the footsteps rushing down the hallway as she coughed into the toilet bowl. She felt the hands pulling her hair back and knew they were Jane’s even though she couldn’t risk looking up at that moment, just focusing on the gentle touch on her shoulder as something to ground her. After what felt like eons of heaving and shaking, Cathy rested her forehead on her arms as she let out a rough sigh.

“Easy love, you’re alright.”

Jane’s voice sounded miles away, but Cathy nodded weakly as she tried to regulate her breathing. She could feel herself shaking like a leaf and hated it. “I’m fine,” she croaked, trying to sit up unassisted but pitching over sideways into Jane’s arms as her strength failed her for a second.

A quiet chuckle above her made her glance up into Jane’s amused yet worried face. “Are you?” she quipped lightly, adjusting her arms so that Cathy was propped up more comfortably. “Is this a stomach bug or is it that time of the month?”

“The latter,” Cathy answered with a slight groan as her stomach rolled again. She glanced at the toilet, her body tensing, but thankfully the feeling passed within a couple of moments and she just flopped back into Jane’s chest.

“Let’s get you back into bed, hmm?” Jane suggested.

Cathy nodded as she let Jane help her to stand, supporting her as she swayed for a moment before finding her feet. After reassuring Jane she would be fine for a moment she shut the door to sort herself in the bathroom, cleaning her teeth too since her mouth felt disgusting, before letting Jane take over again.

“Can I get you anything love?” Jane asked as Cathy sat up in bed and pulled the covers around her lap. “Water, painkillers, some soup or something?”

She was reluctant to try eating anything but knew Jane would pester her about giving her body what it needed until she gave in. “Some water and chicken soup would be nice, thanks,” Cathy said with a smile, then pointed towards her desk as she added “And can you pass me my laptop please?”

Jane frowned, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a hand on Cathy’s knee. “You need to rest, love. The work can wait for another day,” she said gently, giving Cathy a concerned look.

“I know, but I’ve been working on a new project lately that needs researching. I just wanted to make a few notes,” she protested, sighing at Jane’s pointed glance. Backtracking a little, she changed her tone and asked “Alright, what if you keep an eye on me and I promise I stop if I’m tired?”

“I think that’s the best I’m going to get from you,” Jane agreed with a laugh, patting Cathy’s knee as she smiled. “Let me go and get those bits for you then I’ll bring my embroidery in. I’m warning you though, first sign that anything’s wrong and you’re going to bed!”

Cathy laughed tiredly as Jane walked out the door, resting her head against the pillow propped between her and the headboard as she waited for Jane to come back. As much as she hated not being productive, she could admit that it was nice to have someone watching over her every now and then.

( +1 ) VI.

For the most part, Jane was lucky enough to not suffer too badly with her periods. She would joke with the others that it was fate taking it easy on her after the way she’d died, but she was secretly incredibly grateful since any pain in her stomach brought on flashbacks from those terrible last days. It meant that she could be there for her friends too, something that put her maternal tendencies to good use.

But every now and then there was a month where she felt like death all over again.

She could already recognise how unwell she felt by the time she even opened her eyes. Her stomach hurt, she felt lightheaded without even needing to sit up, and she could already feel the uneasiness fluttering in her chest. But she still gritted her teeth and sat up, trudging to the bathroom before making her way downstairs. It was a two show day that day and she’d already overslept, she had to get moving.

“Morning Jane!” yelled Anne as Jane walked into the kitchen, already running round in her usual chaotic manner. “I’m in charge of breakfast! I’ve got eggs and toast and holy crap are you alright?”

Jane stopped and blinked as Anne actually stopped to look at her with her eyebrows halfway to her hairline. “What? Oh I’m fine love, please don’t worry about me.”

Anne glanced over at Cathy as she walked over, both of them wearing unconvinced expressions. “Are you sure? You look a little off-colour,” Cathy said gently.

“Little off-colour my ass,” called Anna bluntly from where she was sat at the kitchen table with Aragon, the three of them all turning to look at her. “Babes, no offence but you look paler than I used to be. Even for you that’s a bit much.”

Jane managed to laugh weakly at that, genuinely appreciative of Anna’s humour. She still wasn’t ready to back down. “Honestly, I promise I’m fine. I’m just… just…”

She didn’t finish her sentence since her body chose that moment to come over all faint, her vision blurring for a second before she jolted back into awareness. Cathy and Anne had reacted quickly enough to grab her arms but there was another body pressed close behind her keeping her upright. “You can tell us what’s wrong,” said Kat’s voice softly in her ear, “let us take care of you for a change.”

Jane nodded then, sighing before she managed to stand alone with the three of them still standing by to catch her again. “Just having a bad period I suppose. Feeling a little lightheaded,” she said, smiling tiredly at her sisters as she looked between them all.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Aragon asked as she and Anna walked over.

Rolling her eyes in the face of Aragon’s knowing look, Jane muttered “You can’t mother me Catherine of Aragon that’s my job.”

“Not today it’s not!” Anne said brightly, before she cleared her throat and clapped her hands. “Right you lot, Operation Mum is a-go! All hands on deck!”

Jane had no idea what Operation Mum was, but she was happy to let herself be walked into the living room by Kat while the others continued to busy around the kitchen. Anna appeared first with some painkillers and a blanket which she draped over Jane and Kat on one of the sofas, followed by Cathy with a bowl of chicken soup and Anne with a hot water bottle. Lastly came Aragon, who had enlisted Anne’s help to carry in six mugs of hot chocolate.

When Anna started flicking through films on the TV, Jane paused after a mouthful of soup to protest “But we’ve all got two shows today!”

“Shh,” Anne insisted, curling up under the blanket on Jane’s other side. “We’ve got time. Now just let yourself be mothered for once in your life.”

When Jane looked down at her snuggled into Jane’s side just as she’d been when it was Anne being taken care of, she couldn’t find it in herself to fight them anymore. After she was finished with her breakfast she hugged the hot water bottle to her stomach as she relaxed between Anne and Kat, glancing over at Cathy and Anna on the other sofa and Aragon in her armchair. Her wonderful little family.

She would always be the mother of the group, and that was just how she liked it. But sometimes she could let her wayward children take care of her when she needed them the most.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #jane seymour #catherine of aragon #anne boleyn #anna of cleves #katherine howard #catherine parr #laila's writing

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the-quiet-winds · 5 years ago

Text

Sure to Outlast this Catastrophe (part two)

so a lot of you loved the aragon content! which is good! because @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts and i worked hard on this one! (i say that every time because it’s always true)

things start to... heat up.

[part one]

[Part 2: Spend the Rest of Your Nights with the Lights On]

when she reaches the house, she is surprised the living room isn’t empty. jane is laying on her couch, under a blanket, watching some house show and occasionally sipping tea. she gives aragon a small wave as she enters.

“you were supposed to be asleep,” aragon deadpans.

jane just shrugs. “couldn’t.”

aragon shakes her head in mock disapproval. “i’m going to take this to anna,” she says.

anna is already asleep by the time aragon reaches upstairs, so she leaves the cough medicine on the bedside table along with a medicine spoon.

she heads back downstairs and settles down on the couch next to jane, looking over at the woman.

aragon comes over, gesturing for jane to move. jane lifts her head as begins to scooch down the couch, but aragon stops her. she puts the pillow jane had been using in her lap and gently pushed jane down to lay on the pillow, trailing her fingers lightly in and out of blonde hair.

“let someone else be mum for a change,” aragon says with a mock huff of annoyance, and jane gives a weak laugh.

“i’m not purposefully being difficult.”

“i know, jane,” aragon smiles softly.

they fall into a companionable silence as the tv buzzes quietly, the host of the programme showing the couple of the day around a large farmhouse.

aragon’s mind drifts back to caroline, and her breath catches in her throat. that looked like her girl. it looked so much like her girl that it hurt.

jane looks up at her. “what is it, love?” she whispers.

“i... uh...” aragon stammers out, “i thought i saw mary at the supermarket, that’s all.”

jane doesn’t say anything for a moment, but her eyes encourage aragon to carry on.

“and it was stupid because i know it couldn’t have been her. i just... i got my hopes up anyway,” aragon admits.

she’s glad it’s just jane in the room; if boleyn had heard this bit of vulnerability then who knows if she’d ever have let it go. or maybe aragon wasn’t giving boleyn enough credit.

“do you want to talk more about it?” jane asks quietly. “i can tell you some more about her.”

aragon nods shakily. “if you’re up for it.”

“she was the smartest girl i’ve ever met,” jane says softly, nostalgically. “loved poetry. we went to mass together often.”

“she’s always been smart,” aragon says quietly, a faint smile on her face. “i could never hide anything from her, even when she was young. and when she was older, well...” she trails off, voice dying in her throat. mary was well into her teenage years by the time henry decided to cast her and aragon aside, and even before any official announcement aragon knew mary had her suspicions.

jane reaches up a shaky hand, the pads of her fingers drifting over aragon’s cheek. “i know, love,” she rasps out. “she knew i was pregnant before i even told her.” jane chuckled softly. “she said i was glowing and she just knew.”

aragon nods.

“she loved you,” jane continues. “she spoke so highly of you, you know that?”

“we were close,” aragon barely whispers. “she was so strong even though she was so young.” she swallows, then looks down at jane. “thank you for looking after her when I wasn’t there.”

“of course,” jane nods, voice weak.

aragon looks back to the tv, trying to push images of mary away and resuming her soft ministrations in jane’s hair.

it isn’t long until jane succumbs to the soft warmth of the moment and drifts off to sleep again, and aragon is left alone with her thoughts.

aragon’s mind drifts into her memories, of mary when she was young, so vibrant and full of life. she’s just recalling a ball when mary was eleven or twelve, the first one she was allowed to stay up for, when she hears a fresh wave of hacking coughs from upstairs.

she gently extracts herself from the couch and heads up the stairs, trying to work out which room it was coming from.

her first instinct is anna’s room. but when aragon gets there, she is still peacefully passed out.

the coughing continues.

from next door.

anne.

aragon gently opens the door, surprised to see anne sitting up, coughing into her fist.

aragon sits down next to her and rubs her back as anne coughs.

when she pulls her fist back, there are traces of blood on her hand.

“anne,” aragon half-gasps. “anne, are you okay?”

“‘m fine,” boleyn begins, but then she coughs again. aragon pulls her phone from her pocket.

“i think we need to call an ambulance.”

“i’m fine, aragon, seriously!” boleyn wheezes.

aragon helps boleyn stand. “i’m taking you to the hospital,” she declares.

anne stumbles down the stairs, aragon holding on to her.

jane is on the couch, no longer looking quite as sickly.

“annie?” she asks.

“we need to take her to the hospital, she’s really unwell,” aragon says, not stopping her movement of herding the wheezing and coughing anne to the door.

“i’m coming too,” says jane. “i want to help.”

“no,” aragon says, a little firmer than she anticipated. “no, you need to stay here. if one of the others takes a turn for the worse, they’re going to need you here to call an ambulance for them.” she pauses for just a moment, locking eyes with jane. “they need you here. we’ll be okay.”

jane falters, but nods. “i’ll keep an eye on them.”

aragon thanks her, and presses a quick kiss to her cheek. “i’ll call you.”

anne giggles stupidly and delusionally as aragon pulls her to the car.

“come on, you,” aragon mutters as she gets anne situated. “you need help.”

“/you/ need help,” anne replies immediately, then coughs violently again. aragon sighs and buckles anne’s seatbelt.

the drive is mostly punctuated by boleyn’s coughing fits and slightly delirious muttering, and when they park in the car park aragon rushes to get anne inside.

they are forced to sit and wait for far longer than aragon would like, if she’s being quite honest. can’t they see anne is hacking up her lungs?

just as she’s about to say something, nearly half an hour later, some doctors come and sweep anne off into a testing room.

just before they make it, she makes a horrible retching noise and empties the meager contents of her stomach on the floor, and even from her position, aragon can see blood.

the doctors say something far too quickly for aragon to catch, then anne is being whisked off to another part of the hospital. aragon tries to follow but she’s stopped.

“sorry, the doctors need some space,” the nurse kindly tells her, before leading her off to a smaller waiting room for friends and family.

aragon sits restlessly, her knee bouncing rapidly as she waits for news about boleyn’s condition.

she and anne may never have been the closest of friends, not like aragon was with jane or parr, but she still very deeply cared for her fellow queen.

if something bad were to happen... aragon doesn’t know what she would do.

aragon is so wrapped up in her worry she misses the fact her phone is buzzing in her pocket, and when a doctor steps into the waiting room she jumps to her feet. she sits shamefully back down again when he makes his way over to a man in the corner of the room instead, and she again focuses her attention on waiting for news about anne. her eyes are fixed on the doorway the first doctor came through in case anyone appears looking for her, except for the occasional glance over to the clock ticking away on the far wall.

—-

jane hisses in frustration as her call goes to voicemail again. either aragon was busy with anne... or...

had something happened to aragon?

she couldn’t worry about that now. katherine is battling an absolutely raging fever, nearly 39 C, and is seemingly trapped in some sort of nightmare as she writhes and sweats.

it absolutely pains jane to watch as she puts an ice filled towel on her head and her neck, crying softly as she prays that whatever horrid illness this is doesn’t take anyone with it.

cleves appears in the doorway, still coughing but standing much more solidly than before.

“what’s happening? is she okay?”

her eyes are filled with concern and jane shakes her head, close to tears.

“she’s-” jane begins, but she’s cut off by katherine thrashing around in her bed, sounds of distress filling the room.

jane’s tears stream down her face as she continues pressing the iced towel on kat’s face and neck.

“come on, kitty-kat,” jane mumbles. “it’s me, love. it’s mama. wake up, sweetheart.”

katherine doesn’t make any indication of having heard her.

“anna,” jane says suddenly, “can you check on cathy? make sure she’s alright?”

cleves nods gravely and heads out of the room. jane can hear the door to parr’s room open, then cleves saying something quietly.

katherine whimpers in her distressed state and jane redoubles her efforts in trying to soothe her.

“kitty-kat, please,” she half-chokes. “i need you to wake up so i can help you, love.”

but katherine doesn’t wake up. her eyelids flutter and twitch - whatever fever dream she’s having is far from pleasant - but she doesn’t wake up.

———————————————————————————————————–

tag list: @percabeth15 @kats-seymour @qualquercoisa945 @jane-fucking-seymour @a-slightly-cracked-egg @justqueentingz @annabanana2401 @wolfies-chew-toy @broad-way-13@tvandmusicals @lailaliquorice @aimieallenatkinson @sweet-child-why03 @gaylinda-of-the-upper-uplands @funky-lesbians@thinkaboutitmaybe @hansholbeingoesaroundzeworld @anaamess@beeskneeshuh @prick-up-ur-ears @theartoflazy @justqueentwo @brother-orion @paleshadowofadragon @lafemmestars @beautifulashes17 @jarneiarichardnxel @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff @sixcago @mixer1323 @boleynssixthfinger @aimieallen @elphiesdance @boleynthebunny @krystalhuntress @lupin-loves-chocolate @bellacardoza16 @bluify

#six the musical #six musical #catherine of aragon #jane seymour #anne boleyn #katherine howard #anne of cleves #catherine parr #julie and jess write #sure to outlast this catastrophe

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elk-and-thearchivist · 5 years ago

Text

Chiaroscuro, Chapter 2: Respite

The second chapter of my RP with @justashadetalkative / @grumpyoldsnake! Elk and Wiki guide an injured Linast to the hot springs of the Crossroads, where they manage to get a brief respite before Linast’s sibling Phosa makes an appearance.

For this chapter, they did the sketch/composition and shading/lighting/effects, and I did the lines, flats, and background. A reverse of last time!

Words: 7601 Characters: Elk and Wiki (mine), Linast and Phosa ( @justashadetalkative ) Indented is me, regular is @justashadetalkative Dashes are POV shifts.

They carefully made their way through Greenpath, following Elk's lead through the greenery, acid, husks. They managed to avoid contact with any of the infected bugs - Elk seemed to know the best path to take to avoid them.

Before long, the life of Greenpath faded, replaced darkness and stone. Their steps echoed in the silence of the caverns.

Linast was beginning to wonder whether he'd been wrong earlier when he'd claimed not to be getting worse; a sour, unsettled feeling of something being badly out of place had begun to build in his core during the journey. There wasn't much he could do about it, though, so for now he was doing his best to ignore the sensation.

Linast looked around their new surroundings, listening carefully. He spread his awareness to see if he could pick up any out-of-place light, be it the glowing otherworldly creatures or the sickly orange light he'd gotten brief glimpses of in the "husks" Elk had been carefully leading them around.

For the moment, at least, he found nothing but the occasional lantern and glowing plant. He steadied his form from where it had begun to drift in his distraction, and caught back up with the others.

"Do you ever go to the surface?" Linast questioned quietly, deciding it was probably safe to risk some conversation. He could honestly use the distraction. "Is it even nearby? I couldn't... quite tell if that was sunlight filtering through in Greenpath, or ssomething else."

"Sometimes. It's fairly close to here, actually, if you'd like to see. There's a little town that's been miraculously untouched by the plague." Wiki - one could tell if they paid attention to the mannerism of their voice - replied. "The light in Greenpath was likely dreamed by the higher being residing there. She is still revered by her creations, lost as they are to a different light. I can feel her traces in the minds of her subjects."

Elk turned to look at him. "Yeah... hey, are you feeling okay? Relatively. We're almost there, but if you need a break or anything?"

“I'd like that, yeah,” Linast said. “It’d be nn-nice to explore a bit of your world while I’m here, especially if there are more people living up there. And, ah, we might want to warn them to keep their guard up?”

Linast blinked as Elk turned to him, and looked up from where he’d been keeping a close eye on where he put his feet. He hesitated. A break sounded wonderful, honestly; he was exhausted and hurting and between the two his hold on his form was getting shakier by the minute. But the kind of break Linast was longing for was to turn responsibility over to Phosa for a while, and, well. That wasn’t really an option, was it?

“...I’m feeling a bit weird,” he admitted, because at least that part of things was new. “Sick, almost..? But, um. I’m not sure that a break would help. With--that. It’s not how I feel when I’m tired. S-sso if we’re close, we should probably just keep going. Thank you, though.”

"Sounds like a plan. We'll go after the springs." They cocked their head to the side. "That... doesn't sound good, though. Let's hurry - we can lend you a hand. We're stronger than we look." Elk, or Wiki, or them together, extended a tendril, as if giving them a hand to take.

For once, Linast didn't find himself hesitating at the idea of physical contact. He moved forward and took their offered tendril, leaning on them for balance as they began to move forward once more.

"Thank you," he said, trying to still some of his form's unsteady shivering now that slightly less of his attention was being eaten up by the mechanics of walking.

"For--I mean, this, but in general, really. I'm s-sorry to be dragging you into whatever's going on, but we... would have been in a pretty big mess already, without your help."

"It's alright. We don't mind." They helped pull him over some steeper rocks. "Besides, all we- all I ever wanted was to learn new things."

"Wiki wants to know everything. I think I'm happy with tagging along." They crested over an almost vertical drop. "I just like to explore."

As they pulled up Linast, they shifted to the side. Beyond them was a cavern emanating a soft, pale light, brimming with energy. "We're here."

“I like exploring too,” Linast said, his voice distorting slightly as he climbed with their help. “And learning. Pretty good, ah, life goals, if you ask me…”

He took a moment to rest at the top of the drop, staying kneeling on the ground until he felt more certain he wouldn’t fall if he tried to stand. He squinted forward at the softly glowing cavern. “That… is a weird fucking light spectrum,” he muttered.

Except it wasn’t, really; the light mostly just covered a wide range of the human-visible spectrum, gentle and white. There certainly wasn’t any biologically harmful radiation that he could feel. It was just that he could feel some other sort of energy, or magic, or… something. And even though he couldn’t recognize it, something instinctive in him still insisted that it was light.

Linast pushed himself to his feet. “What did you say this sstuff was, again?”

"Soul, we call it. It is the energy that animates all bugs. The old king was a higher being of this light, using his power to animate fragments of Void for whatever purposes he wished."

They walked closer to the spring. "The King called us 'the power opposed,' that which consumes the light. But, then again... we are both. So we can, theoretically, use the power of both."

"Hopefully, it can heal you and your sibling."

“Huh. I’ve… never heard of something like that with a—physical form, like this.” Felidaen’s energy was the closest Linast could think of, an animating, creationary magic with a distinct light of its own. But even then, the stuff was more like electricity. It certainly wouldn’t ever pool like this.

He walked with them to the spring and knelt again, peering at it closely and forcing his form to hold steady against the sting of the visible light on his shadows. The actual energy of the ‘soul’—the not-light that he felt in the air—didn’t sting at all, which was a good sign; the sensation reminded Linast of Phosa herself. The twisted feeling in their core was getting worse, though, which was… less great.

“S-sso, how does this normally work? I’m guessing it heals you, or other, ah—bugs, or you wouldn’t have thought of it…?”

"If we are injured, or tired, we usually rest within it." They dip their toe in the water, before sinking into the water. To anyone who could sense the energy, it seemed to suffuse their entire body, sinking into the void of their body. They gave a soft sigh as they sunk into the water, mask partially submerged. "More bugs used to come, when it wasn't as dangerous. It truly fills you with energy."

They looked over to Linast. "Since we're uncertain how it could affect you, you could try dipping a finger first? Or splashing some onto your core. If it helps..."

“That’s probably a good idea,” Linast agreed, smiling slightly at them as they made themselves comfortable. He pulled the core out of his chest and set it on the ground beside himself. “I’m, um—you’re right, this stuff feels like light, it’s probably going to agree with Phosa way more than with me. Just as a... heads up. But I’d still rather—my magic’s still lower risk than our core, to start, so...”

Gingerly, Linast stretched out a hand and let the tips of his fingers sink into the hot spring.

Several things happened at once. Linast let out a quiet, strangled sound as their core gave a dizzying lurch and the sickly wrong-feeling drastically intensified, heat flooding through it. His hand went entirely numb, abruptly flickering out of shape along with the rest of his form. And light flared outwards from their core, shining brightly from the cracks.

Elk immediately jumped up, tendrils flaring from under their cloak. "Linast! Are you alright?" They reached towards him, just as the light flared and they jerked back, an arm raised defensively. "What-" They lowered their arm, peering past it to see what had just happened.

There wasn’t much for Elk to see at first, aside from the slowly dimming light leaking from the cracks in their core. Linast had dissipated entirely with the flash.

“Fine, m’fine,” Linast rasped after a long moment, forming enough of a pool of shadow beneath his core to speak but not much else. “Just... hnn. Fuck. Probably should’ve... I’m fine. Not hurt. Just need a minute.”

It wasn’t a lie, he decided, as he took stock. He felt miserably unwell, admittedly, but the pain of their fractured core had actually eased a bit.

A few seconds later found Elk (and Wiki, by extension) hovering worriedly over him. "Are- are you feeling better? Oh dear, I hope we haven't made anything worse...."

Wiki emerged from their body, inspecting the core. "It seems the soul has affected the core even without direct contact. Hopefully in a positive manner."

Elk sat down, fidgeting. "Just- uh... take your time... all the time you need."

Linast hummed, both in acknowledgement of their words and to take comfort in the sensation of sound vibrating through his shadows. It was about as close to taking a steadying breath as he could get. The light that leaked from his core faded moment by moment. Soon enough it had gone dark again, and he felt recovered enough to pull himself back into a more humanoid shape.

“...I think it did help, things definitely hurt a bit less now,” Linast decided, after taking a minute to think. He reached over to give Elk a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“I don’t feel anything bad that wasn’t already wrong,” he added. “That weird feeling got, um, way worse. It was pretty overwhelming. But with our core glowing like that, just now, I think... we might not be, ah... Words. Hmm. Processing? Processing energy very well right now, is all. Not through me at least. It wasn’t too bad when all I was absorbing was some dim light, but...”

"Touching it was a little too much at once...?" Elk asked meekly. "I'm glad you're feeling better, though."

"Indeed. How does your sibling normally manifest, if I may ask?" Wiki tilted their head as they asked him. "If you are of darkness, and she of light, perhaps it has assisted her more than you."

“Way too much,” Linast agreed, and then nodded at Wiki’s words. “Yeah, she’s light. Looks a bit like me except glowing, and her magic can—apply more force to things in the light rather than more in the dark.”

He hummed, staring thoughtfully at the hot spring. “I think you’re right, it’s probably more helpful for her than me. But... if we weren’t hurt it might not even have bothered me, either. I don’t think it’s, ah—incompatible with us or anything, it should be safe.”

Linast’s gaze drifted down to their core, and he frowned. He... did trust these two, already. They’d done absolutely nothing but help him. “...could one of you take us in? Our core is both of us, it might be more comfortable. But if it isn’t, I don’t want to drop us if I get overwhelmed again.”

Wiki blinked. "Take you in? Like... Holding you in our void? We can, though I didn't expect you'd know."

Elk demonstrated, reaching into their body - it seemed to ripple as their hand plunged in. "Yeah, I keep a few things. Like this old nail that I've had for as long as I remember. I don't really use it, though." They had partially pulled out something that looked like a small sword, lined with cracks, before pushing it back in. "I can hold onto you two, if you like. Or, wait- did you mean something else-"

“Oh!” Linast blinked, more than a bit surprised. Fascinated, he leaned forward as Elk demonstrated. “That’s—no, I, uh, I didn’t realize you could do that at all, actually. I just meant... hold us in the water to see if it works without having to go through my shadows. I’m, um... we might be here a while, otherwise, if I can’t keep myself from flinching like that every time.”

He sat back up again as Elk returned their sword, thinking. “That is really—interesting, though. Are... does the size matter, relative to you? Or do you have some s-sort of pocket dimension going on, or a link back to the Void...? You were talking about, mm, what was the word... unity, earlier.”

"O-Oh! I see." Elk rubbed a hand on their neck, embarrassed. "We can definitely hold you in the water. As for this..." they gestured to their body.

"Size doesn't matter at all! It really is very convenient. The mass of the object seems to vanish as soon as it is within us." Wiki hummed, tapping their chin. "I presume it is a pocket dimension of a sort. Each of ours is separate, after all. We were once indeed a unified entity, a single will. But we are torn apart. A little piece of Void within each of us."

Linast chuckled a bit, though he hoped Elk didn’t think he was laughing at them. Normally he hated struggling to make himself understood, but in this case it was wonderfully benign. It was nice to have a problem as easy to fix as a slight miscommunication.

He fell quiet as Wiki began their explanation, tilting his head as he listened. “That does s-sound pretty convenient,” he mused, once they were finished. “I... think I’ll pass on experiencing it myself unless we need to, though. I hate small dimensions. I’m sstuck in one often enough as it is.” Linast grimaced slightly, then shook his head, humming quietly as he focused on the rest of their statements.

“Do you, ah... remember anything, from before? Or do you know where you came from mostly from records, again?”

Wiki nodded. "Mmm. Most of my knowledge comes from external sources - I knew everything in the Archives as soon as Elk awakened me. I don't know much about before - a few glimpses, perhaps - but if I delve deep into my mind, there seems to be some memories locked away. The few times I've attempted to breach them, I fell dormant for quite some time."

Elk waved a hand. "In my case, I remember a few things from... a very long time ago. Bits and pieces. Then there's a big gap, a- a haze. But then I was aware again, and escaped the... place I was in." They muttered the last bit. "Wiki helped fill a lot of the gaps."

Linast listened quietly, unable to quell a slight frown. It was a bit concerning to think that something in Wiki’s mind had been so thoroughly locked away that simply trying to think of their past could essentially knock them unconscious. And he didn’t like the sound of Elk having to escape from anywhere, nor the way their voice fell as they spoke of it—as if they were reluctant to even name the place. From the brief quote they’d spoken from their creator the last time he’d started asking about their past, Linast doubted their memories from before this ‘haze’ were very pleasant, either.

‘No mind to think. No will to break. No voice to cry suffering.’ Stars. Linast wondered if someone had done their level best to make those statements real. It was certainly hard to talk about or form opinions on things you couldn’t remember or weren’t awake for, after all.

...Linast was glad he hadn’t met these two a few years ago. He’d have been barely holding himself back from tearing down the walls. Now, though... well, there were more productive things to do with the fury bubbling up on their behalf. Besides, even his usual impulse to scratch when stressed was buried beneath exhaustion at the moment. Small favors.

Linast let out a long, slow hiss; the sound of static was a satisfying standby. “I’m... sorry you’re blocked off from your own life like that,” he said, once he’d gathered his thoughts. “It s-sounds pretty scary. And frustrating. How long have you been... properly awake, like you are now?”

Wiki and Elk both bowed their heads. "Thank you... It is... a situation to be in. We do the best we can."

Wiki rose and tapped their chin. "Elk woke me perhaps... one of your years or so ago? We've been wandering for a while, exploring the corners of this kingdom, piecing together all the information."

"It's been fun! But taxing, sometimes." Elk rose, approaching. "We should probably try to get your core in the spring - see if it helps."

“I can imagine,” Linast said, with a wry smile. “This place doesn’t seem big on sstairs, so far, I can’t tell if they’re broken or just never existed. And the—husks can’t help.”

He blinked as Elk approached, and nodded. “Oh. Yeah,” he agreed. He was glad to learn more about these two, and the discussion had given him more time to recover from the unpleasant experience of his first attempt to interact with the spring. But while he certainly felt more stable after that first bit of healing, Phosa still hadn’t woken up. Another try was probably a good idea, wary as he was.

Linast picked up their core and carefully passed them to Elk. “Just, ah—keep the water out of the cracks, for now, and we’ll s-see how it goes?”

Wiki gave a soft huff of a laugh. "Stairs. Imagine that." They merged back with Elk as they took them into their hands, extending a few tendrils to stabilize their hold. "We'll do our best. Please tell us if it gets too much."

They made their way to the spring, wading into it while holding their core above water-level. They slowly lowered them until the side without cracks made contact with the spring.

“I will. Or, uh, if I flicker out again, that’s probably a bad sign too.” Linast watched Elk and Wiki’s progress, wincing slightly in anticipation as they lowered their core.

For a moment, something deep in their core twisted, again—but then it finally seemed to click back into place, and for the first time in a while, Linast felt almost balanced again. After that, contact with the spring didn’t seem to produce anything more dramatic than the warming sensation of energy seeping into them and a few twinges of pain through the cracks as some of the deeper ones began to seal.

Linast’s eyes narrowed incredulously, and he frowned at the water in faint betrayal. “...I never thought I’d ss-say I regret being cautious,” he muttered. “And... I don’t, really. I didn’t want to put it on both of us without trying it myself first when Phosa couldn’t... agree to the risk? But. Fuck. Maybe I should’ve gone with your idea of splashing some on our core first.”

"Well, we'd say it's always better safe than sorry - you never know." They watched as the cracks gradually heal over. But it looks like you're doing a lot better already!" As the reach of the fissures shrunk, they submerged a bit more of them in the water. "The light of life does tend to do that to you, aheh."

Wiki's face emerged from Elk's body, peering at the core. "I certainly hope your sibling can recover soon. We'd love to meet her."

“I know. Just. Fff. I’m glad I don’t have to do it again, at least. Thank you for your help.” Linast smiled a bit, watching their core heal with considerable relief. “It—certainly seems to! That’s really impressive, honestly. The medics back home would... they’d give a lot, for s-ssomething like this.”

Linast hummed. “As for Phosa, she already is, a bit. I can feel her magic again at least. Ah—careful, actually, that’s... ”

Linast tensed as white light slid up around their core in a protective shell and pushed fretfully against Elk’s grasp. “We’re safe, Phosa, it’s okay,” Linast called, and frowned when he didn’t feel much response from her. From the looks of it, Phosa wasn’t managing to put any substance behind her light yet, but he stood in preparation to intervene just in case.

Elk started when the light began to form - luckily, their tendrils were wrapped quite securely around them when they fumbled a bit. "Ah! Was that-"

"-your sibling?" Wiki squinted at the light pushing against them. "Hmmm. If you're comfortable with it, we can release our hold and submerge your core in the spring. More effective, most likely, and she seems a bit distressed by our contact."

“Yes,” Linast confirmed, then realized that was a bit ambiguous and amended, “yes, that’s Phosa. And—yeah, go ahead. It’s definitely healing us, even if any water does get in we should be able to phase it back out again.”

Concerned, Linast pushed his own magic towards their core, folding a layer of shadow in around Phosa’s light to talk. safe-rest-myturn, he insisted, trying to calm her. His tension eased slightly as she stopped pushing at Elk and Wiki’s hold, though she didn’t release their core.

"Excellent." Wiki once again submerged into Elk, who nodded and gently placed the core in a shallow area of the spring.

They stepped back a bit, watching to see if anything else would happen. "Is this alright?"

Linast let his own shadows fade as the pair moved. He wasn’t keen to touch the water again, and manifesting past Phosa’s light when she wasn’t being careful of him was a strain in its own right.

He relaxed further as Elk—and by extension, Wiki—stepped back. The last thing he needed was for Phosa to lash out at their new allies before she’d fully reoriented herself.

“It’s fine, thank you,” Linast said, moving as close to their core as he could without going over the water. “Phosa?” he tried, again. “Are you awake?”

notawake-ow-yourturn, she flashed back at him, with a griping undertone that startled a relieved laugh out of him. “She’s okay,” he said, happily. “More or less.”

"That's good to hear," they sighed in relief. They gave another look before they climbed out of the spring, sitting next to Linast. "How about you? Are you feeling better?"

“I am,” Linast confirmed, still smiling. “I mean, I’m really tired, but even that’s a bit better than it was. S-seriously, thank you.”

"We're glad we could help. You seem like a decent entity and we'd hate to see you suffer."

They were silent for a moment. "Can you tell us about where you're from? We've told you a bit about us, but- we're curious. We've never seen such a breach in the fabric of space."

Linast looked over to them, his smile fading into a chagrined expression. “Yeah, you’ve—been taking a lot of things in sstride, huh? This has to be pretty weird for you. Um...”

Linast hummed thoughtfully, trying to think of where to start, how to explain without rambling too much. “We... call it the Spire,” he said. “It’s in a pocket dimension, though depending on what that means to you it might be... bigger than you’re picturing? And it’s not like yours, it’s not—touching anywhere, or anybody, s-specific. In normal space I mean.”

He shrugged, gesturing uncertainly. “I don’t know how a lot of this works, but I remember the way it’s been explained to me, and they say that because it... doesn’t exist in or touch any specific place, it’s technically also everywhere at once? Or in a state where it could be anywhere at once? S-something like that, anyway. Any dimension, any location within those dimensions... theoretically we could get to anywhere.”

Linast curled in on himself, folding his arms around his knees and looking back towards the hotspring where his sibling rested. “There are... so many other worlds, other realms, out there,” he said quietly. “Ones like this, and, ah, ones... too alien to describe.”

The pair leaned closer and closer as he spoke, riveted. "That's..."

Wiki practically burst from Elk, tendrils splaying all over their head in their excitement. "Fascinating! So you've seen many, many dimensions, I presume? Oh, the possibilities must be endless! Oh, if you're willing I would love to read your memories some time. There must be so many interesting things in there! And, oh! If you came from there, is it possible for others to go there as well? Are there peoples indigenous to that dimension, do many people come and go?"

Linast chuckled fondly at Wiki’s excited outburst. He’d been wondering how they’d react. “I’ve been to a lot of neat places, yeah,” he said, smiling at them.

He couldn’t keep it up for long, though, and glanced away back towards the water. “...I’ll... think, about the memories. We can talk about it later.” There were a lot of things he wasn’t proud of. There were even more things that he just didn’t want to relive—that he didn’t want to make anyone else relive either, for that matter. He sighed, and turned his attention to the rest of their questions.

“There’s one... indigenous person, if—if that word even works for one person?” Linast hesitated, but then pushed on. “Felidaen—this person—she’s like us; made by someone, for some... purpose, though she doesn’t remember what. But she’s the person who generates the pocket dimension, just—from the inside. She can’t leave. Other people can sort of come and go, but...”

Linast fell silent as he tried to figure out how to put the rest into words. His fingers tensed, clawing without much effect into his arms, and for a moment he wished he was holding something solid.

Out of the corner of his vision, a small hand reached out and grabbed his, stilling his hands. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Elk said quietly. "Felidaen... I hope... she doesn't feel too trapped in there."

"Trapped for whatever purpose her creator decreed." Wiki closed their eyes. "It truly is fascinating. I would love nothing more than to know more, but it seems to trouble you."

Linast twitched and glanced down at Elk’s hand on his. He hummed, closing his eyes for a moment, and released his own arm to give their hand a grateful squeeze instead. He was careful to keep his fingers dull, the pressure gentle.

“No, it’s... part of this is important, actually, you need to know,” he insisted. “I just. Heh. Seven years and you’d think I’d get better at talking about it, but it still makes me—so angry.”

“The Spire eats people; takes them and makes them its own,” came a new voice from near the hotspring. Linast brightened a bit, straightening up to smile at his sibling as she climbed out of the water with their core tucked under one arm.

Wiki looked like they were about to respond, when both they and Elk snapped their gazes to the the newcomer. "Oh! Hello," they waved a tendril in greeting, mirrored by Elk. "You must be the sibling we've heard so much about." They paused, processing what she said. "Eating people, you say...?"

"That sounds... pretty terrifying." Elk murmured, gaze sliding to the side.

“It’s not...literal,” Linast clarified. “But, it does bind you to itself, if you have too much contact with it. Any contact with it.”

Phosa strode over to him and passed him their core, and he returned it to its usual place in his chest. “I’m gone for—I’m gone, and when I wake up you’ve given us to a stranger and let them put us in a pool of glowing mystery goo,” she muttered. “What’s going on?”

“You’re welcome. You should’ve left us in for longer,” Linast said with a relieved laugh, just glad she was up and talking again. He tugged her down to sit beside him, on the other side from Elk. Phosa relented, albeit with a dissatisfied hiss, and eyed Wiki and Elk with a wary expression.

“This is Elk, and this is Wiki,” Linast added, gesturing to each of them. “They’ve been helping us. I was—explaining the Spire, but you heard that.”

"Nice to meet you." They both inclined their heads. "We share the same voice and sometimes the same body and sometimes the same mind."

Wiki waved a tendril. "It's good to see you are more or less unharmed from the misadventures of earlier! If you are unaware - we do not know if you share memories as we do - Linast had come out of a rift in space, it seems, pursued by some unknown creatures. He helped lead them away, even though he was injured. We are grateful. Bringing you two to the spring was the least we could do."

“Hello,” Phosa said, returning their greeting with a nod of her own. By the end of their explanation, her suspicious stare had been replaced with a thoughtful frown. “That... doesn’t sound great. And we don’t share thoughts like that, no; thank you for explaining...”

Phosa hummed, and shot a pensive look towards the spring. Linast felt a brief flicker of light over their core as she traced out the faint seams that were all that remained of their most recent injuries. “The spring healed us,” he offered quietly. “And they’ve been telling me about this world.”

Phosa glanced at him, studying his expression, and then turned back to Elk and Wiki. “Thank you,” she said, with a tired smile. “I’m grateful, too. Not everyone would stay to help people who brought trouble like that in with them.”

"We're glad to help." Elk laughed lightly. "Though, I'll admit I was very curious at first."

"Of course! There's nothing like you two in our entire world! But more than the nature of your existence, we would love to know more about you two - well, in a more personable manner."

"It's been great having someone to talk to. There aren't many bugs around these days that travel as much as we do." Elk scuffed the stone under their feet.

“They’re explorers!” Linast told Phosa. She raised an eyebrow at him, then looked back at the pair.

“Yeah? That’s pretty neat. I could see how it’d be isolating, though.” Phosa glanced around the room they were in, with a calculating look in her eye that told Linast she was assessing the entrances to the place. “If you think we’re safe here for now, I... wouldn’t mind talking for a while. Doesn’t seem like Linast would either.” She gave Linast a pointed nudge with one elbow. “If I don’t like a topic I’ll tell you to fuck off, don’t worry.”

“I’m curious too, honestly,” Linast added. “I’ve never s-sseen anybody like you two, either. But—I’ve already asked you a lot of questions.”

"I know not if the rules of our world apply to those creatures, but nothing seems to attack us while we are in the springs. It seems to be... a sanctuary of some sort. A place to rest." Wiki gestured to the cavern as they spoke. "I'm sure, at least, we have some time. Feel free to ask us anything about us, this world! The only thing second to obtaining knowledge is sharing it."

Elk nodded. "We would like to more about The Spire, if you want to share, though. You were just talking about how it traps people there. But... you're here now?"

“Huh. A protective ward, maybe..?” Linast suggested. Both he and Phosa relaxed a bit at the idea. “That’s really good to hear.”

“Okay. In that case... yeah, we should definitely get explaining about the Spire out of the way first,” Phosa said with a decisive nod. “Linast had it right, ‘bind’ might be a better word. The Spire is a building in the pocket dimension Linast was talking about. It was built using Felidaen’s magic, but it’s not under her control. It’s not under anyone’s control, we don’t think. And it... tethers people’s souls to itself, I guess you could say. It might even reach out through them to claim more people if we’re not careful. And if a person is... born there, we think it can warp them to be more useful to itself.”

“Soul is something different in our realm,” Linast clarified quietly, folding his arms across his knees again. “Kind of. It’s still... life force, and you need yours to live, and it leaves when you die. But a soul isn’t—it’s not a s-substance, not a thing you can see or touch. Not without the right magic, anyway. Every person has a unique s-soul, and that soul carries part of their—identity? It carries a part of your identity in a way that’s more, ah, permanent than the body. With the right magic, some people can make it carry memories and the rest of your personality, too.”

Phosa paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. But she’d always been better at keeping up a mask than Linast, and while her expression had grown cold, her words remained steady. “So. Wherever we go, that part of ourselves is still connected to it, and it never lets us leave for long. But how much leash you get, and what happens if you push the limits, can vary a bit.”

"That sounds... insidious. Like something that might cause one despair, if they felt too trapped."

"That's never a good feeling," Elk murmured. "Feeling like you can't escape."

Wiki hummed. "Interesting that your soul is different. Though I suppose most regular bugs do not perceive soul as we do. Hmm. But back to the binding... has there ever been an instance in which one was not affected by the Spire, even after contact with the dimension?"

"We've... gotten used to it. Kind of." Linast let out a short laugh, but there wasn't much amusement to it. His fingers tapped restlessly against one arm as he thought about Elk's question.

"Like Phosa said, it does vary a bit, at least?" he said, uncertain. "Like, Diamond, I don't think he can leave for more than a week or two without starting to get... really sick. But we can leave for longer than that, I spent... a year, once, leaving for a month at a time and only coming back for a day or two in between each trip. But I was in really bad shape by the end of it--couldn't think straight for... weeks."

"There was other stuff going on for you," Phosa muttered. Linast shrugged uncomfortably, unable to argue. Phosa hummed as she thought.

"No effect, though... I mean, people who are actively hostile to the place or to Felidaen don't seem to get stuck," she said. "Not all the time, at least. And things that aren't people don't get stuck."

"Other than that... maybe Dalgiroth?" Linast added. "They're kind of a--what do they call themself--an 'avatar of space-time' that stops in for a bit every couple of years to say hi, or when we ask them for help with something. I don't know if they're being--compelled to do that, or if they're unaffected and just think we're interesting. They’re the freest out of all of us, I think. There are a few other people who are... nearly as powerful as them, and they don't quite have to live in the S-spire, either. And there’s this one group of merchants who only come in a couple of times a year, and they seem okay. We don’t know what’s happening there.”

"I see... very, very interesting. If the risk were not so high, we might have been compelled to see the Spire for ourselves - the nature of its existence is very interesting." Wiki idly twirled a tendril. "If only I could... study the phenomenon......."

Elk tapped Wiki's face. "It doesn't seem safe. We could get trapped. We- we can't have that."

They blinked before hunching over, sulking. "This is true." Their head shot up straight again. "But! Perhaps there are conditions that would prevent one from being bound!" The lifted a tendril to their chin. "An avatar of space-time... ᵖᵒʷᵉʳᶠᵘˡ ᵇᵉᶦⁿᵍˢ... ᵍᵒᵈˢ... ʰᶦᵍʰᵉʳ..." Their muttering was quickly becoming unintelligible.

Linast watched Wiki mutter to themself for a few, shifting uncomfortably.

“We don’t know a lot about it,” Phosa offered eventually. “We just know what affects us, and what we’ve been told so that we can warn people, and what we see. Other people know more. Diamond—he’s one of the Spire’s creators—has been trying to find a way to free people, or at least to keep new people from getting caught.”

Linast picked up the thread she had started. “S-sso... well, I know just... getting involved too deeply is a risk, if a... s-ssmallish one. And researching it long term would—definitely be that. But, Diamond would be the person to ask about it. One conversation would probably be okay. And if it isn’t, well, he’d know that too.”

"Oh, a creator of the Spire? That is... most certainly someone I'd like nothing more than to pick the brain of. If it would ever be possible to do so."

Elk nodded. "How would we be able to meet? Actually," they straightened a bit, "How do you get back to or communicate with the Spire? I don't know if you two are stuck here for a bit, but if you need to get back...?"

Phosa shot Linast a questioning glance. He grimaced. “We showed up alone, and we weren’t carrying any of the—communication gear,” he told her, then looked at Wiki and Elk. “We usually don’t, we, ah, can’t move freely without dropping stuff. S-so... someone finding us would be ideal.”

“The group we were teleporting with before things went wrong, they should know that something went wrong, and have a start on where to look. They can trace us through our bond to the Spire if nothing else,” Phosa confirmed. “But, well, something went wrong. They might be hurt, or dealing with those creatures you mentioned. Eventually someone at the Spire should notice we’re not back on time, but, again. Things might be bad at the Spire, too.”

“If all else fails...” Linast shrugged halfheartedly. “When we hit the end of our, ah, ‘leash,’ and there’s nothing to—interfere... we normally just get pulled back eventually. Poof! Back at the Ss-spire. We... can’t teleport between dimensions on our own, but the Spire can call us back.”

“Leaves us feeling like shit, though,” Phosa muttered.

Elk twitched a bit. "Ah, that... does not sound good. Let's hope that someone will figure things out. In the meantime..."

"We could try to find out what's going on with those creatures." Wiki crossed a few tendrils. "If you've never seen them before, they must have come from a different dimension... I can try to read into their memories to see what happened just before the incident, if we are able to capture one. Alive preferred."

"But still!" Elk hopped up. "If you're here for a while, we can show you around Hallownest. The lands are still pretty, even if the kingdom has fallen."

“I’d definitely like to know what those things are up to,” Phosa said, nodding at Wiki. “And get a look at them myself.”

“I’m not up for a fight right now, and neither are you,” Linast protested. “...Not if we don’t have to, at least. Not until we’ve rested. And... I’d love to at least—explore, but I don’t think that’d be safe until we are, either.” Especially when he didn’t know what the creatures could do, and would have Elk and Wiki to protect besides.

"I... hmm." Elk fidgeted, wringing their hands. "I can fight... in theory. I know the skills, I have the strength. I have my nail."

"And yet, you do not. You don't have to force yourself, Elk." Wiki patted them on the head with a tendril. "Knowing and doing are two very different things."

Elk gave a frustrated sound. "Nnnngh. But it would be helpful right about now-"

Linast’s core twisted as Elk spoke. Stars this was a familiar refrain.

“Don’t,” Linast said, clasping their shoulder with one hand and interrupting their protests. He leaned down to meet their gaze; their own mask couldn’t show much expression, but he could certainly show them his.

“S-seriously. I’ve spent... so long, telling myself I know what I need to do so I should just do it, no matter how I felt about it. You just get... more avoidant, the more you try to force yourself, and—and you’re miserable besides. And you do a bad job, if you do actually manage to force it, or... or maybe you don’t, maybe you’re good at it after all, but it—then you’re expected to do it more, by yourself if no one else, and it hurts.” Linast made a sharp, throwaway gesture with his free hand. “And then you still burn out eventually.”

“...It’s okay,” Phosa added carefully, once Linast had bled dry of words and let his hand fall again with a shaky flicker. She leaned against his side, a solid, grounding contact, and smiled at Elk. “We can rest here for a while, as long as it’s safe. Or if it’s not, I’ll poke at your weird glowing goo stuff a bit more and then we can leave and start exploring. Linast and I can take turns resting. We do it all the time.”

"I..." They were frozen for a moment, listening and then processing their words, before the tension seemed to drain from Elk's shoulders. "Th-thank you... You're right." They lifted their head to look at them. "I'm really not good with fighting, for various reasons. I just. Didn't want you two to be hurt by my own incompetence."

"You are far from incompetent. Different people have different skills and different weaknesses. Your forte is simply not in battle." Wiki wrapped a few tendrils around them in an odd sort of hug. "You must take care of your own needs, as well." They turned to the siblings, bowing their head. "Thank you. We will do our best to guide you away from danger, but we only know the behaviors of the bugs here - of course, we know nothing of the extradimensional creatures."

Linast leaned back again as Wiki hugged Elk. “Definitely not incompetent,” he agreed. “Wiki’s right. And you—kept your head and got us out of a pretty bad spot, earlier, yeah?”

“We’ll follow your lead,” Phosa said. “Just getting around whatever regular hazards you have here is great. We’re all at a disadvantage, with the extradimensional folk. We’ll just have to figure things out as we go.”

Linast stood, passing their core off to Phosa. “It s-sounds like you all think we should head out?”

Elk nodded. "If you two feel like you're all better, we can start trying find out more about the creatures."

"Since they have probably already dispersed, perhaps the rifts would be safe to check. I wonder if they remain active, or if there are simply traces that are left." Wiki returned to Elk's body. "Regardless, I expect we'll learn something if we investigate."

“We’re healed, yeah,” Linast said with a nod. “Just tired.” He gestured vaguely to the hot springs. “But from how things felt earlier, I think I can—funnel a fair amount of energy s-straight to Phosa, now that our core’s healed. If it works she can take over for a while and I’ll, ah—rest.”

Phosa frowned at him, but didn’t comment, glancing back to watch Wiki merge with Elk. “Sounds like a good plan to me,” she said. “Especially if you think we can stay out of sight on the way back. Worst case scenario the rifts are still active like you say and more are coming through, but... still better to know that now than get surprised later.”

"Indeed," they said. "We're glad to hear your core's healed, but yes, Linast, if you can get some rest - that would be excellent." They rose and padded closer to the cave's entrance. "Whenever you're ready, we can head over. We'll do our best to guide you, Phosa."

“Thank you. I’ll try to blend in,” Phosa said with a wry smile. Linast grinned a bit. She’d gotten far better at controlling her light to suit her needs, and could indeed appear outwardly dim enough to be stealthy. But it wasn’t hard to think back to a time when that had definitely not been the case. Shaking his head, Linast let his humanoid form fade, and took a moment to brace himself.

Then he spread a pool of shadow out through the hot spring and did what he’d supposedly been made to do: consumed it.

Not entirely, of course. He didn’t want to take more of the resource than Phosa would need, didn’t know if it was finite. And the main source of the hot spring’s energy wasn’t literally light. Interacting with it still felt... strange, left him numb, and it took a lot of concentration to keep his magic active. Still, he managed it to a slow count of three before giving in and dissipating again. “You good?” Phosa asked quietly, her voice vibrating through their core. Linast mustered enough energy to flash a silent confirmation, and he felt her stand and carry them over to the others.

“Alright!” she said, with false enthusiasm. “Let’s go try to find out how big of a mess we’re in.”

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gratsustingue-the-ot4 · 6 years ago

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Sting's anxiety pushes everyone away when he needs them most.

Author: @splendidlyimperfect Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairings: Natsu/Gray/Sting/Rogue Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Polyamory, Established Relationship, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Medication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, they're just really soft with each other, sweet boyfriends, Tumblr: FTLGBTales Series: Part 33 of i'm with them

**tw for anxiety/panic attack

“Babe, we can find it later.”

Natsu stood at the front door, frowning at Sting, who was pacing back and forth in the kitchen, opening random drawers and slamming them shut again. Sting ran his hands through his hair, groaning.

“I left it here, I know I did,” Sting said. “Maybe Rogue moved it.” He tapped his fingers against the counter, then moved over to the area where they kept their phone chargers and started rummaging through it again.

“I have my wallet,” Natsu said gently, stepping forward into the kitchen and reaching out for Sting’s arm. “We can look more when we get back, but we gotta get going – we told Dad we’d be there at two.” He glanced at the clock, which read 1:37.

Sting shook his head, pushing Natsu’s arm away. “It’s not – I just...” He tried to take a deep breath, but his chest felt tight. “It was here,” he insisted.

“You don’t need it,” Natsu reassured, trying again to reach out to Sting.

Sting pulled his arm away from Natsu again, stepping backward into the kitchen. There was a soft mrowl, and Sting cursed as he tripped backward over Lector and slammed his hip into the counter.

Continue reading on AO3

“Fucking son of a bitch,” he shouted, feeling a wave of guilt as Lector leapt away from him and darted toward the bedroom. Sting bunched his hands into fists, digging his fingernails into his palms and closing his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, trying to ignore the stinging pain on his hip that was definitely going to bruise.

“It’s okay,” Natsu said gently, staying where he was. “What’s going on?” Sting had been grumpy and on edge since Sunday, withdrawing from the other three and keeping to himself.

Sting shook his head. The tag from his shirt rubbed against the back of his neck and he resisted the urge to tug it off. Frosch was yowling from the bedroom and Sting wanted to slam the door.

“Do you wanna stay home?” Natsu asked. Sting wanted to shake his head, wanted to go for lunch with Natsu and Silver and forget the wallet, and the stomachache, and the low, thrumming anger under his skin. Instead he nodded, crossing his arms over his stomach and trying not to cry. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No.” Sting stared at the ground, at the hole in his socks – goddamnit, these were his favorite ones. He ground his teeth and closed his eyes. “Just... tell Dad I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t I reschedule with him?” Natsu’s voice was gentle, and for some reason it irked Sting. “I don’t think you should be by yourself.”

“I’m not a child,” Sting snapped, scratching at his wrist. The guilt in his chest was overruled by irritation and he glared down at the counter. “I’ll be fine.” Natsu hesitated and Sting’s voice turned sharper. “Just go.”

Natsu sighed, and Sting could tell he was trying hard not to move in for a hug.

“Okay,” Natsu said eventually. “I’ll leave my ringer on, call me if you need me, okay?” Sting nodded, biting his lip and biting back an irritated, I don’t need anything, go away. “I love you,” Natsu added.

“Love you too,” Sting said softly, listening to Natsu’s footsteps recede. As soon as the door clicked closed, Sting let out a shaky breath and leaned forward against the counter. His eyes were immediately drawn to the pile of dishes stacked next to the sink and he felt irritation flare up again.

He grabbed a few of the plates, opening the dishwasher and groaning when he realized it was clean. Tears pressed against his eyes again and he tossed the plates back on the counter, stalking away from the kitchen and into the bedroom. As soon as he walked into the room, he turned around again, grabbing his phone from the coffee table and curling up on the couch.

I’m sorry. He typed out the text under Natsu’s name, then deleted it and switched to his conversation with Rogue and wrote, I need you. Instead of hitting ‘send,’ he tipped his head back, angry tears filling his eyes as he threw his phone to the other end of the couch.

“Fuck,” he whispered, running his hands over his face. Happy jumped up on the couch and tried to climb onto Sting’s lap, and he growled, pushing Happy away. “Don’t... just...”

Sting curled in on himself and started crying in earnest, burying his face in his arms. His shoulders shook as he choked out a sob, pulling his knees tight against his chest. Everything was too much and not enough, and his skin was too tight, and suddenly he was too hot, sweating through his thin t-shirt.

His phone went off a few times, but he kicked it away from him as each buzz pushed him closer and closer to screaming.

Come back, Sting thought as he cried. I’m sorry, I need you.

~*~*~

The text from Natsu had been simple – im worried about sting, hes not good but he didnt want me there – but it had been enough for Gray to leave work early and immediately head home.

When Gray opened the front door, he could hear the shower running. He kicked off his shoes and headed for the bathroom, where he found Sting sitting on the floor next to the shower, shoulders shaking as he cried. His arms were red where he’d been scratching at them, and his forehead was pressed against his knees.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Gray said softly, crouching down next to Sting. “C’mere.” He touched Sting’s arm and when Sting didn’t pull away, Gray sat down next to him, pulling Sting into a sideways embrace.

“I’m s-sorry,” Sting said, his breath coming in short, sharp pants. “I didn’t... it’s just...”

“Shhh,” Gray said, brushing Sting’s sweaty hair away from his face. “Breathe with me, okay?” He took Sting’s hand and placed it on his own chest, then took a deep, slow breath, waiting for Sting to copy him before exhaling. “There you go. You’re okay.”

“I’m n-not, I don’t... I’m sorry, I was a j-jerk to N-natsu, I didn’t mean to...”

“I know,” Gray said, taking another deep breath. Sting shook his head, chest rising and falling erratically. “Nobody’s upset with you. Can you take another deep breath for me?”

“N-no,” Sting gasped, tightening his arms around his knees. “I c-can't, I can’t, I can’t...”

“Okay, it’s okay if you can’t,” Gray said quickly, running his hand up and down Sting’s back, but stopping when Sting pulled away. “I’m gonna get your meds, okay?”

Sting didn’t respond as Gray stood up, moving over to the medicine cabinet and grabbing a prescription bottle. He tipped one of the pills into his hand, then sat back down next to Sting, holding it out. Sting took it with a shaky hand, popping it under his tongue and then closing his eyes again, pressing his forehead to his knees.

“Do you wanna take a shower?” Gray asked. Sting shook his head, then changed his mind and nodded, sniffing and wiping his face. “With me or by yourself?”

“W-with you,” Sting said shakily. Gray helped him stand up, pulling him into a hug and kissing his forehead before tugging off his shirt.

As soon as they were under the water, Sting let out a deep breath, leaning against Gray and wrapping his arms around Gray’s waist. Gray started humming softly, grabbing the shampoo and lathering up Sting’s hair.

“Wanna come with me to Halifax next month?” Gray asked, rinsing away the soap and rubbing Sting’s back gently. “Todd’s sending me to a conference so they’ll pay for gas and the hotel. We can go to the beach if you want?”

Sting nodded against Gray’s chest. “Yeah,” he said softly. His breathing was slowly evening out, body relaxing against Gray’s as Gray’s fingers kneaded the knots in his shoulders. “All of us? Or just you and me?”

“Whatever you want,” Gray said. Sting didn’t say anything, just hugged Gray tighter.

~*~*~

An hour later, Rogue and Natsu were home, and Sting was curled up with them on the bed, wearing Natsu’s hoodie and Gray’s sweatpants.

“’m sorry,” Sting said, gaze slightly unfocused as he looked up at Natsu. His head was in Natsu’s lap, and Rogue was lying beside him, running his fingers over Sting’s stomach.

Natsu shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said, brushing Sting’s hair out of his face. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“I tol’ you to leave,” Sting said sleepily. “Was a jackass.”

“Yeah, but you’re a cute jackass,” Natsu teased. Rogue snorted, taking Sting’s hand and lacing their fingers together.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over Sting’s knuckles. Sting made a sleepy sound, blinking slowly.

“Drugs’re workin’,” he said softly. “’s all fuzzy.” He yawned, shifting a bit and nuzzling Rogue’s neck. “I don’ like taking them.”

“I know,” Rogue said, kissing Sting’s forehead. “But Gray said you were spiraling pretty bad, I think it was a good thing that you took them.”

Sting nodded, closing his eyes and relaxing into the strange sensation of being not-quite-real that always came with the medication. It was unsettling, but better than the time he’d passed out from hyperventilating.

There was a dip on the bed behind Sting, and a squeeze on his hip. He cracked open an eye and looked up to see Gray, smiling softly at him.

“Thanks,” Sting whispered, reaching out and taking Gray’s hand.

“Always,” Gray said, shifting until he was lying behind Sting. He wrapped his arm around Sting’s waist and placed a gentle kiss on the back of his neck, then murmured, “now go to sleep. We’ve got you – you’re safe.”

#fairy tail #gratsustingue #ot4 #ot4fic #imwiththem #gray fullbuster #natsu dragneel #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #emotional hurt/comfort #light angst #with a happy ending #sweet boyfriends #some fluff #splendidlyimperfect

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gashinamoon · 7 years ago

Text

woke up in a safe house

Summary: “You can’t ask me to marry you and then freak out when I say okay, Lena.”

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

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Lena doesn’t know she’s about to say it until she says it.

It’s completely spontaneous, she thinks.

Until she thinks some more, a lot more, and realises that it wasn’t spontaneous at all and that every single second of the last two years has been carefully building up to one moment in time which changed everything and nothing at all.

She supposes it’s the last few days specifically that made up her mind in the end, though. That wrapped up the last two years and tied a little bow on top.

She still can’t fully remember what happened, and she’s grateful because the memories she does have are enough.

Working late, charts and numbers blurring on the page, another glass of wine, thinking about having dinner with Kara and Alex tomorrow night, alarms sounding, six armed meta-humans killing fifteen members of L Corp security before barging into her office, screaming, begging, Supergirl flying in through the window and taking down three of them in a matter of seconds, bones breaking, gunshots, Kara’s cry as kryptonite bullets tear through her skin.

“Kara!” Lena doesn’t even think, she just screams Kara’s name as she watches her fall to the ground, her face contorted in pain.

She tries to reach for her, but the meta has her pinned so tightly to the wall that any attempt is completely useless. Her head is pounding from being smacked against the concrete and she can feel blood trickling down the side of her face. Her vision is blurred from what she guesses is a concussion, but as soon as she hears Kara’s cry, everything clears and all she can see is her.

Three shots. That’s all it takes.

Bang.

One to her thigh. One to her shoulder. One to her ribs.

Lena wonders if maybe the meta was aiming for her chest.

She swears time slows down then.

She watches Kara fall, watches the green glow of the kryptonite light up her veins, hears her cries of pain, hears the thud as her body hits the ground and refuses to get up again.

Kara grits her teeth as she tries to force herself to stand, but Lena sees before Kara does that it’s not going to work.

As Lena cries her name, Kara looks up at her. She knows it’s bad because Kara doesn’t even look mad or afraid that Lena has just yelled her real name in front of god knows who.

“Close your eyes, Lena,” Kara says, her voice shaking and strained, and Lena wants to argue with her, wants to tell her to stop talking, wants to yell at her to get up and keep fighting because Kara Danvers just doesn’t give up.

Kara Danvers promised her so much, promised her she’d never leave her, so she doesn’t get to just give up.

And Lena tries, really tries, to tell her that.

Except she can’t because everything feels heavy and her chest feels tight and she realises that that’s because the meta is gripping her neck so firmly that she’s been lifted off the floor.

She panics then, when she tries to gasp for breath and comes up empty.

“I’m sorry,” Kara says, her voice thick with defeat and guilt, and Lena watches as Kara struggles to even hold her head up and she’s terrified because every single inch of Kara’s body is lighting up as green as emeralds and then suddenly she’s just mad because if this really is it, if this is where they die, she wants to see Kara’s blue eyes and her soft, cream skin one last time.

Lena kicks her legs and thrashes her arms, tries with every single ounce of strength that she has left in her body to escape the grasp of the meta, but her actions only make the grip on her neck tighten and then she feels a punch to her stomach and everything goes black.

Lena closes her eyes then, just like Kara told her to.

She prays to whichever God is listening that Kara has her eyes closed too. She prays to whatever God is listening that Kara doesn’t see her die.

It’s her last thought before she succumbs to the darkness.

Lena chokes back a sob as the memories assault her and squeezes Kara’s hand just to reassure herself that she’s here, that she made it, that she’s alive.

Kara’s sleeping, she’s been sleeping for hours now, her body still weakened by the kryptonite.

Lena hasn’t been able to sleep. She hasn’t been able to take her eyes off of Kara because every time she does, she sees her dying in front of her.

She doesn’t know what time it is, how many hours have passed since they arrived here.

All she knows is that Kara’s alive, somehow, god knows how.

Outside, the sun is beginning to rise.

Lena watches as another cut on Kara’s head heals completely, and she takes comfort in that there are only two more left before her skin looks the way it did before. She’s still pale, but with every passing second, Kara is starting to look more like Kara again.

Even though she sees her healing in front of her eyes, Lena squeezes Kara’s hand again. Just to make sure.

She thinks back, back to waking up in the DEO med bay what feels like a lifetime ago, back to hearing Kara and Alex arguing somewhere down the hall.

“You can’t go anywhere, Kara. You need to lie down and heal,” Lena hears Alex’s stern voice say.

“I have been lying here for over a day. I’m sick of lying here. I can’t stand being in this building and I can’t stand being away from Lena and I can’t stand knowing that I couldn’t protect her,” Kara responds, and her voice sounds wrong, like every word takes twice as much effort as usual, like every word hurts.

Lena tries to sit up, because she wants to go to her, wants to wrap her arms around her and hold her, but when she tries to move, a pain that starts in her head and then radiates through her entire body and almost makes her cry out renders her absolutely useless.

A tear slips out of the corner of her eye and she doesn’t know whether it’s because of her pain, or because of Kara’s.

“You did everything you could, Kara. Everything. And Lena’s fine s-“

“She’s not fine, Alex! I watched as a metahuman tried to literally squeeze the life out of her. I watched as he punched her and rammed her head into the wall over and over. So she’s really not fine. She almost died!” Kara yells, and Lena’s never heard her sound so angry.

“And so did you!” Alex yells back, her voice cracking on what sounds like a sob.

Lena knows what happened was bad, but hearing Alex’s voice like that makes Lena wonder just how bad it was, how close Kara was to not surviving it.

There’s a pause then, a long and heavy one, and when Kara speaks again, her voice is soft.

“Please, Alex. You have to let me take her somewhere. I have to get her away from here for awhile. I can’t let her wake up in this damn med bay again, I just can’t. Not because of me. Please,” Kara begs, and Lena just wants to tell Kara that it’s okay, that she’s okay, that it isn’t her fault.

Lena hears Alex sigh.

“Kara, please. Don’t do this to me. I love you and I love Lena but I can’t let you walk out of here. Not so soon after I almost lost you,” Alex says, and her voice cracks again and Lena’s sure she’s crying.

No one loves Kara like Alex does, Lena thinks to herself. Lena’s sure no one has ever loved anyone the way Alex loves Kara.

“Alex… I’m better. I’m almost completely healed. In a day, every single trace of kryptonite will be gone from my body and it will be as though none of this even happened. I’m fine, honestly. And I know you’re scared because what happened was bad-“

“It was more than bad, Kara. You have no idea. The kryptonite in your blood was twice as potent as normal kryptonite. God knows how, but it was. Which means that those metas knew you’d show up. Not only that, they were counting on it. They wanted to murder you. If that bullet in your ribs had been even centimetres higher, you wouldn’t be standing here right now. So don’t you dare tell me you’re better and that in a day it’ll be like this never happened because it’s bullshit, and you and I both know that,” Alex interrupts, and the pain in her voice makes Lena shiver.

Lena wants to go to Kara, to tell Kara to drop it and to get back in bed and sleep for a few more hours, to let Alex hold her hand and keep an eye on her until she’s finally convinced herself that Kara’s alive and she isn’t going anywhere. Because she knows Alex needs that.

She knows that, because she needs it too.

But Kara’s not going to give this up, Lena can tell that just from her voice.

“I’m sorry, Alex. Truly, I am. But keeping me here isn’t going to change what happened last night. And I need to be with Lena. She nearly died too, I nearly lost her too, and I just—“ Kara stops, and Lena hears her inhale slowly, as though she’s trying to get her emotions under control. “Please. I need to be with her. I need to get both of us away from here so we can pretend for just five minutes that all of this isn’t real. I can’t stand this anymore. There has to be somewhere we can go, please.”

Lena thinks about running away with Kara, and it sounds so heavenly that she almost cries.

She hears Alex sigh again. “There’s— there’s a safe house. On the edge of the city. You can go there. But I have conditions.”

“Anything, Alex. I’ll do anything you need me to. Thank you so much,” Kara says, and Lena knows she’s hugging Alex tightly.

“I’m not doing this because I want to. What I want to do is force you back into bed so I can stand here and watch you sleep for at least eight more hours. What I want to do is take you home, home to mom, and I want us to stay there forever. But because I love you, and I don’t want you to hate me, you can have two days away from here with Lena where you don’t have to be Supergirl.”

“Thank you,” Kara says again, and Lena knows she’s crying now.

“But you’ll call me, or you’ll have Lena call me, at least once an hour. You’ll wear tracking nanites so I can see where you are at all times. You’ll let me know immediately if you start to feel unwell, even slightly, because we still don’t know how that kryptonite was so powerful or if there will be any long term effects. You will rest, and by that I mean you will sleep, for at least another day. You will not even attempt to use any of your powers until you are back here and we can make sure it’s safe to do so. I mean it, Kara,” Alex says, and then Lena hears Kara agreeing and promising over and over.

Kara’s kept her promises. And Lena’s called Alex every hour since they arrived whilst Kara’s been sleeping, but the last time she called an hour ago, Alex said she could just wait until morning to call again and that she should try and get some sleep because she needs to heal too.

But Lena can’t sleep because she’s too busy reassuring herself that Kara is alive to even try.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Kara mumbles, her voice thick with sleep. “I can feel it from here.”

Lena knows Kara is still half asleep, and that’s why the soft smile on her face stops her heart even more than usual and that’s why she says what she says.

Because Kara smiling, Kara half asleep with bed hair splayed out on the pillow, Kara smiling and half asleep with bed hair and cuts that are healing after she almost died makes Lena physically incapable of saying anything else.

“Let’s get married,” Lena whispers.

Kara stills, and Lena is just as taken aback by her words as Kara seems to be, but now that she’s started, she can’t stop. So she says it again.

“I’m serious, Kara. Let’s get married.”

“Lena, I—“

“Just listen, okay?” Lena interrupts, and she sits up then because suddenly something is running through her veins and making it impossible to be still. The sudden movement hurts her head but she ignores it because she can see what almost looks like rejection on Kara’s face and that terrifies her more than dying did and she has to make her understand. “We almost died. We’re literally waking up in a safe house. This is our life. And I know it’s not the first time something like this has happened and it probably won’t be the last either and I know I’ve always said that marriage doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t change anything, but I want to marry you.”

Kara opens her eyes and meets Lena’s gaze then, and Kara’s eyes are so beautiful that Lena almost cries.

“Nothing about any of this is safe, and every time something like this happens that becomes so obvious, but it’s not about being safe anymore, Kara, it’s just about being with you, unsafe. That’s where I always want to be, no matter what. I know I’m hard enough to love sometimes but I can change and I-“

“Okay,” Kara says.

One word.

It stops Lena right in the middle of her sentence.

She blinks. “Okay?”

Kara smiles, closes her eyes, pulls the covers up under her chin. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Lena asks again, because truly, she doesn’t quite understand what’s happening.

Kara chuckles softly. “You can’t ask me to marry you and then freak out when I say okay, Lena.”

“I’m not freaking out!” Lena argues, but her voice sounds strange all of a sudden.

“Right. Well you need to tell that to your heart which has been beating at around 130 beats per minute ever since I spoke,” Kara laughs, and when Lena becomes aware of her heart thudding wildly inside her chest, she realises that maybe Kara’s right. Maybe she is freaking out a little.

Lena takes a deep breath through her nose and lets it out slowly.

“Are you coming back to sleep?” Kara asks, and it’s a completely unremarkable question, and it throws Lena for a loop and makes her wonder if her concussion is worse than Alex thought because surely Kara isn’t just going to ask her about something as normal and mundane as sleeping after they’ve just agreed to get married.

“I- Um…” Lena tries to respond, but nothing comes out and she considers then that there’s something really wrong with her.

Kara moves one arm from under the covers and holds her hand out towards Lena. She still has her eyes closed and the sheets tucked up to her chin and the sun is still rising outside.

Kara waits, patiently, until Lena takes her hand.

“Come back to sleep, Lena,” Kara whispers, tugging lightly on her hand.

Lena complies, and lets Kara guide her back under the covers until she’s snuggled tightly into her side, her face buried in Kara’s neck.

“Don’t you want to talk?” Lena asks, and Kara presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“We can talk another day. We have forever now, after all,” Kara says, and then she laughs softly and presses another kiss to Lena’s forehead and Lena wants to take back everything she said about being unsafe with Kara, because she’s absolutely certain that this is the safest she’s ever felt.

“Forever,” Lena whispers, and suddenly she’s so tired, and her eyelids drift closed.

She feels Kara smile against her skin. “Forever,” Kara says again.

The word rolls off of Kara’s tongue so easily, like it’s the easiest word in the world to say.

Lena wonders if maybe okay and forever are the same word.

And suddenly they’re her favourite words.

This was inspired by the song Let’s Get Married by The Bleachers. You should listen to it… *cries*

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to reblog etc. and let me know what you think :)

#supercorp #supercorp fic #supercorp fanfic #supercorp fluff #kara x lena #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl #mywriting

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