#i have in fact confirmed that i cannot rasp growl like he can

[ilostyou]

and cause iiiiiiii’ve got a jet black heaaaaaart

[heyitsani]

This Could Be the End of Everything Chapter 1

@jaydick-week Day 4: ABO Dynamics

Word Count: 7,249

Rating: Mature

Warnings: non-con (but not sexual), canonical character death

Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson

Summary: Jason's presentation takes something precious from Dick and they have to face the consequences in more ways than one.

Notes: Okay just a bit of background/history. In this "world" pack dynamics are important, but have taken a backseat since society doesn't require them anymore. But back when they were lead by more primitive needs and desires, each pack was led by one omega and alpha who were more powerful than the others. True Alphas and True Omegas, as they came to be called, were respected due to their power. But as society shifted and packs began settling in single places, Trues became more and more rare because the need for the powerful protectors was not needed.

Now they're considered precious and while True Alphas are more common than True Omega's, both are considered rare. And it's especially rare to have one of each in a pack. And when a True Alpha gives a mating bite to a True Omega, the bond cannot be broken without one or both of them dying (whereas a normal pair could easily break a bond if need be). And should one of the pair die, the other would become a shade of themselves for the rest of their days.

You can also read it on AO3 here

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It was rare that Dick found himself at the manor these days.  The argument with Bruce that ended up with Robin being stripped from Dick and the one that followed when Bruce gave it to Jason without telling him first were still two excessively big bridges that had been burned.  And had yet to be rebuilt.  Although, if you asked Dick, he would say they would never be rebuilt.  Too much pain in those wounds.

But there were moments, like currently, when Bruce called and Dick answered because he couldn’t not help. Not when Bruce was able to find it within himself to ask for it to begin with.  Even if Dick wasn’t fooled and was well aware of the fact that Alfred had cajoled him into calling his eldest ward.

A fact that Alfred was more than happy to confirm as Dick sat in the kitchen with the older man and sipped on a cup of his favorite Earl Gray tea.

“Master Richard, would you please take this cup up to Master Jason?  He has not come down for his usual after school cup and I fear he has gotten caught up in his reading again,” Alfred set a tray down on the counter near Dick, glancing at the other man.

“Sure, Alfie,” Dick smiled. He set his own cup down on the tray, ignored the smile that Alfred gave him at the motion, and picked the whole tray up before heading out of the kitchen.

The manor was quiet, as it usually was at this time of day.  When Dick had lived within its walls, there had been noise from wherever it was he had found himself.  The need for movement or noise was embedded deep within his skin from his years in the circus and no matter how old he got, he could never shake it.  Jason was much more like Bruce in his need for peace and solitude.  Dick liked to tease Jason that he was adopted simply for the fact that he was much more of a Wayne then the unadopted Dick ever was.

Jason only ever scowled at that, but it made Dick snigger all the same.

Rounding the corner and making his way to Jason’s room, Dick balanced the tray on one hand and knocked. “Hey Jay?”  He listened a moment, letting his omega scent the air a moment for anything out of the normal when no answer came.  When nothing but Jason’s natural scent hit him, perhaps a bit stronger than usual, Dick deemed it safe to open the door.  What greeted him was not something he had been equipped to deal with.

The growl surprised him, but not nearly as much as the scent of alpha that smacked him right in the senses.  And how the hell hadn’t he noticed that through the door?  It was so strong now that the door was open, and he had stepped into the room.

But he didn’t get the chance to process what it all meant before he was being pushed into the closest wall and the tray he had been holding was crashing down onto the floor. It made enough noise that he knew Alfred and Bruce, who was working in his study, would hear it and come running. They wouldn’t come quick enough to stop Jason from doing what Dick could see was burning in his eyes.

“True Alpha,” Dick whispered, eyes going wide.  There was no denying that scent pouring off the newly presented alpha pressing him into the wall.  Jason’s only response was the snarl in Dick’s face and though the omega knew it was probably the stupidest thing he would ever do, he shifted his scent so Jason could smell more than just plain omega.

A scent that Dick worked so hard to hide because he had always expected to be an alpha growing up. He hadn’t even considered omega as a possibility.  If he weren’t an alpha, he would definitely be a beta.  But when he had presented as not only an omega, but a True Omega, his entire world had shifted.  He still struggled with accepting his place in the hierarchy of the world, but he had quickly mastered the skill of turning off the True in his scent, so no one knew outside of the family and a few very select friends.

But the research he had done immediately after his presentation heat had passed had told him one thing over and over: A True Omega can calm a True Alpha when breaching feral while presenting.  And Jason was going down that road, especially since Dick had waltzed into his territory uninvited.

So, he let the True Omega scent come out to play and immediately Jason’s tense hold on Dick loosened and Dick felt his body relax slightly.  “Omega,” Jason whispered, eyes still blown wide with the change.

“Jay, you gotta relax. It’s going to be okay, but you have to relax through it.  Let me go get Bruce.”  At the mention of Bruce, Jason tensed back up and Dick was officially at a loss of what to do.  Did Jason instinctually know Bruce was an alpha?  Did he view Bruce as a threat now?  “Jay?”

“Mine,” the growl was back and something sharp rose in Jason’s scent a mere second before a bright pain hit Dick and he was screaming.

Dick would never know for sure what it was that caused Jason to pull away, but one second Dick was pressed against the wall with Jason’s teeth in the place where his shoulder met his neck and the next he was on the floor, bloody and pressing a hand to the mating bite.

“Oh god, Dick!”  He could hear Jason freaking out, having been pulled out of his haze most likely due to the pain taking over Dick’s scent, but he couldn’t focus on that.  The only thing he could focus on was the burning in the bite and the spark in his chest.

“Jason?!  Dick?!”  Bruce’s voice thundered down the hall along with the sound of his feet rushing their direction, Alfred’s sounding just behind his.  Neither of them answered and only Jason looked over when the two men appeared in the doorway, but he didn’t move from his position just a foot away from Dick, kneeling with his hands hoovering like he wanted to hold onto the omega but knew he shouldn’t.

“I didn’t mean to!  I didn’t-I’m sorry!”  Jason’s voice sounded, accompanied by Alfred’s familiar baritone probably offering words of comfort.  But Bruce kneeling in front of Dick took his focus.  

“Dick?  Dick, I need you to breathe.”  Oh.  Was that why he couldn’t focus?  Yeah, that made sense.  He was disassociating.  “Dick, you need to breathe or you’re going to pass out.  And your state is not helping Jason’s at all.”  Closing his eyes, Dick tried to take a deep breath but found he couldn’t.  “Focus, Dick. Five things you can smell.”

Right, he could do this.

“Your cologne,” he rasped, keeping his eyes closed.  He could feel his hands shaking but tried to focus on scents.  “Shortbread…” A stunted breath.  “Wood polish…my tea…”  Another breath.  “And…and Alfred’s fabric softener.”  He wished he could ask Bruce to touch him, to ground him like a pack alpha should.  But there was a logical voice in his brain telling him he couldn’t.  No one could touch Dick until Jason got himself under control.  The newly presented alpha wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“That’s good Chum. Now four things you can hear.”

Still he kept his eyes closed, pushing his senses out further than this room.  “The kitchen timer, the…the blue jays in the tree out back, the grandfather clock,” he said, struggling to keep his senses out of the room. “Jason’s heartbeat.”

“No, focus on what isn’t caused by the situation or related to it.”

“Your heartbeat.”

“That’s fine. Good.  Three things you can see.”  Carefully Dick opened his eyes and blinked, doing everything he could not to seek out Jason’s eyes.

He glanced everywhere but the spot where Alfred was standing with his hands-on Jason’s shoulders, holding the worried alpha back.  “The tree outside the window.”  He flicked his eyes to the ground.  “The grain in the wood, and the tea on the floor.”  He took a deep breath and glanced at Bruce who was nodding. “Sorry, Alfie,” he muttered, referring to the mess he had made when the tray had dropped.

“It’s quite all right, Master Richard.”

“Two things you can feel. You’re almost there,” Bruce said gently, nodding again.

“The wall behind me.” Dick took another deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling his chest loosen the last bit and his air coming more naturally.  “Pain.” He flinched at the whine that sounded from Jason and cowered under the glare from Bruce.

“Dick.”

“I…the rug…” He tried and Bruce gave him a small smile.

“Last one,” Bruce told him. “One thing you can taste.”

Again, he wanted to say blood, but he didn’t want to make things worse.  Again.  “Lemon cake, from earlier.”

“Good.  Can you stand?  Alfred will take you to get cleaned up.”  Dick thought about whether or not he could stand and figured he probably wouldn’t know for certain unless he tried.  But his brain didn’t seem to want to send the signals to legs to push off the floor and he didn’t want to pull his hand away from the bite mark. He didn’t know if seeing it would set Jason off at all and he didn’t want to risk it.

“I need help,” he whispered, dejected, eyes falling shut again.  There was silence and Dick could smell the hesitation in Bruce’s scent. The conflict.

“Can Jason help you?” Dick knew Bruce was struggling not being able to jump into the comforting father, pack alpha role but he also knew he had to be careful about Jason’s end of things too.  Considering the idea, Dick gave a small nod and seconds later there were hands touching him gently, helping him to his feet.

“I’m so sorry, Dick.  Please, I’m so sorry,” Jason whispered, and Dick opened his eyes to look at the young alpha.  There were tears in Jason’s eyes and he knew Jason felt terrible.  He knew because it pulsed loudly in their bond and scented the air like fog.  But Dick didn’t know how to respond without breaking down again.  So, he just leaned against the wall and let Jason mutter out his stream of apologies.

“Master Jason, I need to take care of Master Richard.  Will you be all right for me to help him to his room?”  Jason’s eyes widened in panic at the suggestion and Dick felt a little bad. The new instincts were hard to handle on a normal basis, but throw in mate instincts on top of that?  Dick couldn’t imagine.

Reaching forward with the hand not holding the mark, Dick gripped the front of Jason’s shirt.  “You can help me to my room, but I need to process, and I need to breathe so you’ll have to leave me there.  With Alfred.”  He was trusting his omega to comfort Jason’s alpha right then because there was no way Dick could do it.  Not when he was desperately in need of comfort himself.  He needed to not have to be the strong one and that wasn’t going to happen while Jason was in the room.

Because the last thing he wanted was to make Jason feel even worse for something that Dick was upset about but not mad at Jason for.

Dick watched Jason take a deep breath before nodding.  “Okay, I can do that.”  And Dick knew he was trying to steel himself for the moment he had to walk out of Dick’s room and leave him with the beta.  But if there was one thing Jason had perfected, it was doing something he didn’t want to do simply because it needed to be done.

Glancing at Bruce, Dick found the older man watching the pair with his well-practiced Batman face. It was one he had never been able to read, no matter how many times he had tried over the last eleven years. But he did know that it was strictly reserved for situations he wasn’t too sure how to handle.  Or situations that compromised who he was as an alpha. This was probably both of those times. His youngest, newly adopted son had presented as an alpha when no one was prepared and managed to claim his eldest, unadopted ward before anyone could stop him.  And now he had to manage the new alpha when his instincts were telling him to care for his pack omega.  And not just any omega, but a True Omega who pulled out the protective instincts more due to the precious nature of having one in your pack.

But Dick couldn’t help Bruce right then.  He couldn’t be who he always was, the one who helped others back onto their feet when they fell, because it had been him who had fallen this time.  And for once in his life he just needed to allow himself to take care of himself.  

“You can take your leave now, Master Jason.  I do believe you and Master Bruce have much to discuss,” Alfred spoke gently but with an undercurrent of authority that most betas were never able to accomplish. Alfred though, he was the true patriarch of this family and anyone who knew them knew it.  

Dick didn’t look at Jason as he stepped away from where he had helped Dick sit on the edge of the elder’s bed.  He didn’t look up from the spot on the floor he had kept his gaze until the door shut firmly behind Jason, shutting his scent out along with it.  It was then when Dick allowed himself to crumple a little. Under the watchful eye of Alfred, it felt safe to do so.  He could hide his face in his hands, ignoring the blood on his one hand, as he silently cried.

Thanks to the scent blockers on his room, specifically installed for his heats, Jason wouldn’t be able to smell his new mate’s distress.  He would, however, be able to feel it through the bond but there was nothing Dick could do about that now.

A hand fell to the back of his neck and squeezed gently.  “Indeed, Master Richard.  Indeed, this is quite the situation.”  And that just made Dick sob harder into his hands, falling sideways into Alfred as the older man gathered the nineteen-year-old in his arms.  It wasn’t the comfort he had been seeking since Jason had sunk his teeth into him, but it would do for now.  It would have to do for now because Bruce had to take care of the new alpha.  

He couldn’t be certain how much time had passed before his tears dried up and Alfred got to work on cleaning and bandaging the new bite.  It wasn’t common practice for the bite to be covered, usually healing quickly on their own, the fact that it was given against Dick’s will made the healing process a bit different.  Slower. Mostly because Dick’s omega was bucking against the idea of this alpha taking something from him without asking, without proving that he could be a good alpha for the omega.  While the laws of old had long ago been changed and Dick was just as worthy of a pack and society member as any alpha or beta, the instinct to be provided for would always be there.

Dick hated it.

He was an adult and he could take care of himself.  He didn’t need to be wooed and courted.  He didn’t need someone to provide for him.  His omega disagreed, sadly.  The True Omega knew that he needed an alpha who was strong, who could protect and love and worship Dick the way he deserved.  That was the part that was howling right now, wanting to rage against the bite and break it.  But that wasn’t an option.

“Alf, what are we going to do?  I can’t break this.  I know you and Bruce could smell it.  He’s a True Alpha,” Dick whispered, looking at the man currently turning down his bed so Dick could crawl into the comfort there.  

Alfred sighed and straightened, frowning.  “We will have to figure this out.  Get some rest, Master Richard.  I will go speak to Master Bruce and send him in here as soon as possible.”  Dick could see the question in Alfred’s eyes and nodded his head, silently admitting that he wanted Bruce there.  “In you go,” he was waved into the bed and remained motionless as the covers were pulled up to his shoulders.  It reminded him of when he had been a boy in a stranger’s home.  

“Can you…”  Dick stopped Alfred from leaving for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what it was he wanted to say.  Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes.  “Can you tell Jay I’m not mad.  I don’t want him to think I’m mad.”

“I will pass the message along.  Get some rest.”

The sound of the door opening and closing was all he heard before the silence of the room fell over him. And though he thought there was no way he would fall asleep right then; he was out before he could really process anything that had happened.

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

Jason shot to his feet from the chair in the kitchen when Alfred entered.  The elder looked tired but gave Jason a gentle smile and a pat to his shoulder before guiding him back into the chair across from Bruce.

“He is asleep,” Alfred relayed, and Jason felt a surge of relief.  He didn’t know if it was because of how stressed Dick had seemed at the entire altercation or because of the bond itself, but he was glad to hear the omega was able to fall asleep.  Jason wasn’t sure he’d be sleeping for the next week.  “He also asked me to pass along that he was not mad at you Master Jason. He was very adamant about that fact.”

The whine that came from his throat surprised everyone in the room, Jason most of all.  And in his embarrassment and guilt, he buried his face in his hands.

“Jason.”  Bruce’s voice sounded far off, and the usual need to obey didn’t come to him, but Jason took a deep breath and raised his head to look at his adoptive father all the same.  “None of us are angry with you.  The presentation is a lot.  The instincts are hard to deny.  Throw in the rank of True Alpha and you’ll find them even harder to deny.”

“You must allow yourself some grace, Master Jason,” Alfred spoke up.  Jason turned to look at the elder beta and frowned.  How could he allow himself grace when he had taken something from Dick against the older man’s will?  Something that he hadn’t earned.  Something the Dick hadn’t seemed keen on giving anyone, from what Jason had seen when he watched the omega interact with other people.  He held himself away from others, he had learned how to pull in his scent to smell just like a regular omega, and he had learned how to ignore the instincts.  Jason had seen them warring in the man’s sapphire eyes so many times and wondered why he would put himself through that just to make the world believe he wasn’t as special as he was.

But Jason had always seen how special Dick was.  How spectacular he was.  Even before he had known Dick was a True Omega.  And now he was left wondering if he had been able to see it because he would eventually present as a True Alpha.  If his inner alpha was just preparing to be worthy of a compatible omega.

“Fuck,” he muttered, looking away from Alfred.  He didn’t comment on the older man’s lack of chastisement on his swearing, but he knew it was probably just because it was a difficult situation.  “He’s not angry but that doesn’t mean he won’t hate me when he wakes up.”

“That may be,” Alfred said from his place.  “But there is nothing to be done to change the situation.  We can only allow Master Dick to decide what it is he wants to do since the choice was taken out of his hands.”  Jason cringed at the words, even if they were said kindly and without the accusation he deserved.  He deserved the anger and the hate.  He had stolen something that was only Dick’s to give, no one’s to take.  He was no better than the alphas in the Alley.  

Bruce cleared his throat and Jason raised his eyes to look at the man, waiting.  “And no matter what Dick decides, you still have a place in this family.  In this pack.”  And those words made Jason sag in relief.  He hadn’t realized he was worried he would be kicked to the curb for what he had done.  He understood that logically he hadn’t been in control, but the guilt swirled relentlessly around his chest and made him feel as though he was moments away from being kicked to the curb.  “Do you understand, Jaybird?”

Jason nodded.

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

He was just blinking himself awake when there was a soft knock on his bedroom door.  Shifting in bed so he was at least facing the door, he called out a ‘come in’ before snuggling further into the warmth of his bed. The previous days events were enough of a reason for him to not get up and greet the day as he usually did.  He felt he deserved the right to be a little lazy today.  Plus, there was a lot he needed to think about now.

“Dick,” Bruce’s low voice rumbled as the door opened and his alpha stuck his head in the room.  Or his former alpha?  Dick wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen now.  The circumstances weren’t exactly standard.  “How are you feeling today?”

Taking a moment to consider the question, Dick went through how he felt physically.  His neck was still sore but not throbbing like it had the night before, his body ached but not in an overwhelming way, and he was tired but he usually felt that way when he first woke up.  Mentally he was probably worse off.  He could feel Jason’s emotions burning strong in his chest, but he ignored them just as he had done last night.  He himself felt like a wreck.  He felt a lot like he had in the weeks and months following his parents deaths.  He was hurting and he was angry, but mostly he felt lost.  And he wondered how Jason was handling the feedback that he was getting from Dick.

“Better than yesterday,” he finally settled on as an answer.  “How is Jason?”

Bruce sighed and moved further into the room after closing the door behind himself.  He hesitated a moment before sitting on the edge of Dick’s bed, just out of the omega’s reach.  “He is feeling guilty and is rightfully upset about what happened.”  

Dick didn’t say anything, but gave a sad smile in response.  He didn’t blame Jason, even if he was upset the choice had been taken from him against his will.  He understood the overwhelming feeling of a presentation.  And he understood even more that being a True Alpha, or Omega in his own case, amped those instincts up a few more levels.  Dick could be angry to the high heavens, but he couldn’t blame Jason for not being able to immediately control the instincts.

“He was okay with you coming in here?”

Bruce hummed.  “He managed to show some amazing control once the situation had settled a bit after you fell asleep.”  It must have been easier for him once Dick’s emotions had faded in sleep.  “But now we need to discuss what you want to happen.”

Dick frowned and pushed himself upright, cringing at the pull on the bite.  But he had more important things to focus on right then. Because he didn’t want to believe Bruce was suggesting what he thought the man might be suggesting.

“You aren’t kicking him out.”  It wasn’t a question or even a request.  Dick knew his place as pack omega lent a lot of authority, even if Bruce seemed immune to it most day, and he would use every ounce of it to keep Jason from being homeless again.

“I am not kicking him out.” Shoulders sagging in relief, Dick leaned back against the headboard.  “I would never do that to him.  He is pack for as long as he wants to be.”

Dick nodded.  “Good.  That’s…that’s good.”

But that just meant that what needed to be decided was what they were going to do about the mating bite. Dick knew it couldn’t be broken and he knew Bruce knew that too.  He knew that they had no choice in this being final.  But did that mean they had to accept it?  Could they just ignore it for the rest of their lives?  

Could he doom Jason to a life of no mate?  No pups?

“I don’t know what to do, B,” Dick admitted, looking from the comforter to his father figure.  “He’s too young even if I was okay with this. Legally he’s allowed to make the choice, sure.  But I’m nineteen and he’s fifteen.  And that is just…no.”  Dick shook his head firmly and Bruce’s face told Dick that the older man completely agreed. Which didn’t surprise him in the least because Bruce was progressive, but he wasn’t to the point where he felt a fifteen-year-old was mature enough to pick a mate after presenting.  “How much does he understand about the situation?”

“Enough to know there’s no fix,” Bruce admitted.  “I told him some of the things we found when you had presented as a True Omega and what the purpose of the role was in our more primitive states.  But how they had become rarer due to the dynamics of packs changing and evolving with civilization.”  It was more than school taught these days because the rank was so rare for both omegas and alphas, though more so for omegas.  Dick remembered the researching Bruce had done when Dick had presented and felt that gnawing need to know everything there was to know in order to get some control over the situation.

“I should talk to him.”

Bruce’s silence told Dick he agreed but had some reservations about it.  It was a difficult situation and Dick knew Bruce was struggling still.  The night would not have changed that.  And it hadn’t gone past Dick’s notice that the alpha had kept himself physically distanced from Dick.  Which meant Jason might have more clarity, but the instincts were still battling his logic and that meant caution had to be taken.

“Do you want to do that in neutral territory or here in your room?”

Being in his territory would definitely give him the upper ground, but he also knew the smell might be too much for Jason to handle.  It would probably make focusing hard for the new alpha.  But being in neutral territory meant the possibility of being overpowered again.  And that thought scared him more than he wanted to admit.

But maybe there was a compromise.

Glancing over to the French door that opened to his balcony, Dick considered them.  “Have him come here.  We’ll sit on the balcony.”  The scent wouldn’t be as bad once Jason was on the balcony and Dick wouldn’t feel like he was unsafe.  Bruce gave a nod and stood from the edge of the bed, looking down at Dick with that all too familiar unreadable expression.  “What?”

For a quick moment, Dick thought Bruce might actually open up and be honest with his emotions, but then the man gave a grunt and headed out of the room.  Predictable, Dick thought as he carefully got out of the bed and made his way stiffly to his bathroom.  He knew he would have time for a quick shower and that since the scent of last night’s emotions were still clinging to him, he definitely needed it. So he quickly washed himself off with the scentless soap the entire manor was filled with, silently missing the soft lavender soap he used back at his apartment, and got dried off.  

He was just pulling on a pair of worn sweats and a t-shirt when a familiar knock sounded on the door and Alfred entered.

“Ah, Master Dick, please hold off on the shirt for a moment.  I would like to have a look at your neck.”  Dick nodded and pulled the shirt off his arms as he sat down on the edge of the bed so Alfred could take a look under the bandage that he had replaced after his shower.  “How do you feel this morning?”

Dick thought about what he said to Bruce earlier about being better today and whether or not he could get away with that with the same.  Not likely. “Sore and stiff.  The shower helped some, but I’m still aching,” he admitted.  The older man remained silent as he looked over the bite before applying a salve and putting another fresh bandage on it.

“You may put your shirt on now.  Master Jason will be here shortly, I’m sure.”  Dick sighed and tugged the shirt on over his head, remaining on the bed.  “Not that I believe I need to give this warning, but do be gentle with the young master.  He has been distraught all night.”

Dick looked up at Alfred with a frown.  If the circumstances were different, he probably would have cracked a joke about Alfred’s sleepytime tea that Bruce was forced to drink from time to time.  But this wasn’t a joke and it didn’t feel like one. Not even for him, the king of puns. Instead he just nodded and looked down at the hardwood floors as Alfred gave the back of his neck a squeeze and then left.

He stayed there, lost in his thoughts and emotions until a soft, hesitant knock sounded on his door. With a deep breath, Dick stood and went over to his balcony doors and opened them wide.  He reveled in the gentle morning breeze that came through for just a moment before turning and telling Jason to come in.

Dick watched the door open slowly before a head of dark hair poked through and looked inside.  “Dick?”  The sound of Jason’s voice made his heart lurch.  He had never heard the teen sound so uncertain before.  Since the first moment they had met, the kid had been all stubborn pride and defiance.  Dick had actually liked that about him, hoping Jason would give Bruce a taste of his own medicine.  But it was nerve wracking to hear this side of him.  Unsettling.  

“Hey Jay,” Dick responded, drawing the teen’s eyes to him.  Jason stopped midway into the room and the door fell closed behind him, causing him to jump slightly.  “Let’s go out on the balcony.”  He got a quick nod in return and Jason quickly walked around the bed and toward where Dick was waiting.  Dick didn’t need the new bond to tell that Jason was nervous about what Dick was about to say to him, that he was trying to be as small as possible.  And Dick also knew that given a few years time, Jason wouldn’t be very successful that that act.

Grabbing a blanket off the foot of his bed, Dick headed moved out onto the balcony after Jason and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders before sitting down on one of the chairs. The air was just chilly enough, but his goal was more to cover the bandages peeking out from the collar of his shirt after seeing Jason’s eyes flicker to them when he passed Dick.  The sharp pain of guilt had slammed through the bond and Dick figured it was probably best to hide the evidence.

“I’m not mad,” Dick told Jason, looking over at the teen who was slumped in one of the lounge chairs refusing to meet Dick’s eyes.  Dick watched him shift in the chair and waited to see if he would say anything.  “Jay?”

The teen looked up at him for a moment before his gaze skittered away again.  “I know you aren’t,” he muttered, tapping the center of his chest. And yeah, Dick guessed that was fair. But he was definitely going to have to find a way to shut the connection down for privacy.  It would be different if this had been something they had both chosen.  But not even Jason had wanted this to happen.  “I know I said it last night, but I really am sorry, Dick.”

Dick nodded and leaned back in his chair.  “Yeah, but you aren’t solely to blame.  I walked into your territory without warning,” Dick admitted, turning his eyes out to the horizon of trees.  “I triggered it when I tried to use my omega to calm you down.”

“This is not your fault,” Jason growled and when Dick looked over, he found the teen gripping the arm rests of the chair tightly enough that his knuckles were white.  If Dick couldn’t feel the fierce protectiveness Jason was feeling then he might actually worry about a lack of control.  But he knew Jason wasn’t going to turn this emotion on him.

“It’s not yours either.”

But Jason went from the rage to incredulity quickly and looked at Dick like he had just said the stupidest thing he had ever heard.  “Of course it is!  I bit you! I stole that choice from you,” Jason rasped.  But Dick sighed and shook his head.  “I’m no better than the bastard alphas in Crime Alley.”

“No,” Dick growled in return, leaning over his arm rest to look at Jason.  “Do not compare yourself to a full grown alpha who has control over their instincts.  Never do that.  You are nothing like them.”

“But…”

Dick growled and Jason froze.  “No.”

Jason gave him a nod, but Dick knew he didn’t actually believe it.  But Dick wouldn’t allow him to think so lowly of himself.  To compare him to some of the worst people out there. No, that was no something Dick was going to allow.

Silence hung between them for a few moments before Jason shifted and drew Dick’s attention back.  “So what do you want to do?”  The question was asked in a sure voice, but the uncertainty swirling in the bond made it clear that Jason was worried.  But what was he worried about?  Bruce had told the teen he had a home here no matter what.

“I don’t know,” Dick said honestly.  “I’m going to go back to Bludhaven and maybe some space will give us some clarity.  I’m also going to work on shutting this emotional bond between us off.  I think until decisions are made, it would be better for both of us.”  Jason watched him carefully and nodded slowly.  Dick could feel the understanding, but also shame and rejection.  But Dick didn’t comment on them because he doubted Jason actually wanted him to know he felt those things.  “You’re too young for any decisions to be made.”  When Jason opened his mouth to protest, Dick raised a hand to stop him. “I don’t care what the law says.  You’re fifteen.  And even if you had come to me in a year and offered me your bite, I would still say you were too young.”

The indignation that came through from Jason made Dick smile.  He knew this would be the reaction.  No one liked being told they’re too young.  But the fact remained.  Fifteen was too young and the pair of them didn’t really know each other all that well.

“I’m not rejecting you,” Dick offered softly.  Jason frowned, eyebrows merging.  “I can’t, even if I wanted to.  But I’m not accepting either.”

“That’s fair.”

AFTER

“Yeah, Walls,” Dick laughed into his cell as he walked up the stairs of the front of the Manor.  He listened to his best friend question his decision again, wanting to be sure that Dick wasn’t doing this for anyone other than himself and it made Dick’s heart ache.  “I want to do this, Wally.  I want to do it because he’s a good guy and when he’s old enough, he will be a good alpha.  But I also want to do this because fighting it the past year has been exhausting.  I could do it forever, but I don’t want to.”

“If you’re sure, man. I trust you know what you’re doing. Just want to be sure that B-man isn’t pressuring you.”

Sighing, Dick pushed the front door open and headed inside.  “He’s got nothing to do with it, I promise.”

“All right, all right. Look, I gotta buzz but call me after you tell him, yeah?  Maybe take a video?  Love to hold his reaction over that punk for a bit.”  Dick just laughed and agreed before hanging up and heading toward the kitchen, where he was sure Alfred would be.  He was only slightly surprised to find it empty.

That surprise turned into concern when he walked through the remainder of the house and failed to find anyone inside.  And though it was early, Dick figured checking the Cave wouldn’t hurt before he started making phone calls.

With practiced hands, he hit the familiar keys on the piano and made his way through the entrance of the Cave and down the stairs.  Most of the lights were off and only triggered as he made his way further inside, but the glow of the computer gave him enough light to see Alfred watching the monitors.

“Alf?”  He called out, causing the older beta to jump and look over at him in surprise.  That made Dick frown.  Alfred always heard them coming.  Always. “Everything okay?”

His eyes moved from the man’s face to the screens and widened at the sight of the inside of the Batmobile speeding toward an unknown destination.  He hadn’t know Bruce was on a mission, not that Bruce shared that kind of information with him anymore.  Not since Dick had stopped being Robin and had become his own hero. But Jason usually let him know if they were going to be out of town on a mission, even if he didn’t say specifics.

“Master Dick, perhaps you should head back up and I’ll be there in a moment.”

But Dick shook his head and came closer, stopping just to the side and behind the chair Alfred occupied. “Where are they?  What’s going on?”  It was strange for Alfred to try and keep him away from a mission. Strange enough that Dick thought about doing something he hadn’t done in some time.  He thought about opening the bond between him and Jason to try and see what the other was feeling.  They had worked long and hard on closing off that end of themselves so they were not influenced by the other’s emotions and Dick couldn’t remember the last time he had tried to open it up.  “Alfred, what is happening here?”

“Agent A what are the stats?”  Bruce’s Batman tone broke through the speakers and Alfred sighed, turning on the mic that he had apparently turned off at some point.

“He’s still alive.”

He’s still alive.  

“Who is still alive?” Dick whispered, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it.

“Nightwing what are you doing there?  Agent A get him out of there.”  And that cemented it even further.  And it solidified his decision to open the bond.  Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and sought out that spot in his chest that he had tended to so carefully.  One small tug on the thread was enough to pull it wide open, leaving him gasping and gripping the back of the chair to remain upright.

Pain.  So much pain it was staggering.

“What is happening to him?!” He gasped out, letting Alfred lead him to sit in the chair he had just been in himself.  He tried to straighten himself out, but he couldn’t pull himself out of the bent over position he fell in the instant he was seated.  “B…”

He could hear Bruce swear over the comms and Alfred’s hushed reassurances, but the only thing he could really focus on was the pain.  And the fear. So much fear and so much pain. There was something else buried under that, but the two overwhelmed anything else that might possibly be trying the come through.  And even if Dick wanted to, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to close the bond back up.

And since his was open, Jason’s was now open as well.

“Please, B,” Dick begged, lifting his head to look at the screen.  “What’s happening?”

“Joker has him.  I’ll get him back,” Bruce told him and Dick felt his eyes well.  He knew Bruce meant what he said, but he also knew that whatever was happening to Jason was going to kill him if Bruce didn’t reach him soon.  “Agent A, how far?”

“Looks as though two miles, sir,” Alfred’s warm voice sounded as a hand landed in the middle of Dick’s back.  “No change to the vitals.”  Dick’s eyes went to the screen that held Jason’s vitals and he focused on that. He focused on the, although erratic, heartbeat of the man and tried to take a few deep breaths.  “Master Richard, it might be difficult but perhaps you could reassure the young master through the bond?  He won’t be aware that Batman is on his way to help, but perhaps you can help convey it.”

Could he do that?

He had heard of other doing it before, but he had no idea how to send an emotion.  Only how to feel one.  But he could try, right?  Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths to try and calm himself further.  He released the grip on the seat of the chair and focused on calming his body.  Once his body was no longer on the ledge of panic, he tried to remember the feeling he had when he had decided he was going to tell Jason that when his 18th birthday arrived that he would be happy to allow the alpha to court him. The warmth it brought him at the thought of Jason trying to prove he was worthy.  The happiness that he felt in the moments he got to spend with Jason over the years, despite the issues he had with Bruce.

And then suddenly he felt something back.  Something more than fear and pain from Jason.  Gratefulness.  An emotion so warm that Dick was sure if he touched his chest, he could feel it burning through him.

But then the fear spiked, and Dick sat straight up, looking at the screen to see Bruce pulling up to a warehouse of some kind.  “Something’s wrong.  Something’s happening.  Bruce!” Dick shouted as Batman’s cowl showed the man getting out of the vehicle and running toward the building just in time for it to explode in flame and debris.  “NO! Jason!”  

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

NSFW Alphabet: Crosshair

A/N: Not officially a request, but I thought I’d better cover the whole Bad Batch while I’m at it. And as a reminder, remember to REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS!!! The tumblr tags are fickle at best and it’s the only real way to support creators on this hellsite.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s always stuck between wanting to keep your body against him, but at the same time not wanting to come across as needy. He’ll probably start kissing your shoulders and neck, before nipping at the skin and telling you to go take a shower. Once you do, he’ll try to play it cool like, “you can stick around if you want, not that I care either way”. But, he does. He does care.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes your waist. Odd, but true. It’s the natural place to put his hands when he pulls you close to him. He likes the way you shiver when he runs his fingers along your skin. Not to mention it’s the perfect place to grip you as his fucks you senseless.

For himself, he likes his legs. Yeah, they’re not as thick or muscular compared to regs, but they’re distinctly his. Plus even if he’s not any taller, it helps with the illusion that he is.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His favorite place to cum is all over your chest and stomach. Seeing you a sweating, blissed out mess with his cum sticking to your skin is the single hottest image his mind can come up with. Second only to you hazily swiping his cum onto you finger and sucking with a moan.

You better be prepared if you do that because you won’t be able to walk the next day.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has an impressive collection of dirty holos you’ve sent to him while away on missions.  He’s kept every single one.  It’s gotten to the point where he just picks a random holo and that’s the fantasy he indulges in to get himself off until he can see you again.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Like the rest of the batch, he’s had a pretty healthy string of one night stands since leaving Kamino. He actually has the most notches on his bed post which he is not ashamed to bring up whenever Wrecker is getting just a little too cocky. So, he’s pretty experienced all things considered.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Taking you from behind and against a wall. That’s the popular image of him in the fandom and I’m ain’t here to dispute it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not funny, but he’s definitely a smug asshole who can’t help but comment on every sound you make.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it pretty well groomed down there, almost complete shaven.  Also, dark hair down below, if you’re curious. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It’s very rare for Crosshair to be emotional in bed.  He uses sex more as a way to get rid of tension or get a solid hit of dopamine.  Actually being open with someone is not something he’s comfortable with.

The most intimate he gets is when he feels he might lose you, either in the field or to another man.  Then, he uses it as a way to assure himself you’re with him and his. In that case, it can get pretty intense.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jacks off often, before and after meeting you.  He’s got a higher sex drive than his brothers and needs someway to work off the tension after a mission.  He prefers doing it in the shower when he has the time, but he’ll honestly whip it out anyplace where he can get some privacy for fifteen minutes.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Let it be recorded that Crosshair is not only a Dom, but the only true Dom in entire Grand Army of the Republic. (With the exception of Commander Wolffe.)

Seriously, the man likes nothing more than pinning you down and using your body as his personally fuck toy.  His ultimate fantasy is keeping you tied up in various positions, your body spread open and willing for him to use whenever the mood strikes him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere with a relatively flat surface. I cannot emphasize how much he does not care where he does it: bedroom, shower, locker room, bar bathroom, sparring room, between a couple of boulders out of view of the rest of the Bad Batch. He does not care.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

His ego...let me explain.

There are two ways to really get him going, but they both come down to how they effect his ego.

Number one, praise.  If you compliment him on a shot, confirm that he did, in fact, beat Wrecker at something, or rasp a dirty promise in his ear that he’s the only man who has ever made you cum that hard; that’ll get him going more than anything.

Number two, jealously.  If he sees another man actively flirting with you, he’ll all but sling you over his shoulder and carry you to the closest abandoned alley he can find to fuck you senseless.  He doesn’t care if you were interested in the guy flirting with you or not, you’re his and he needs to remind himself and you of that.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Humiliation for him is a no go. There’s the more obvious stuff, like the idea of you putting him on a leash or something equally degrading just gets him frustrated, and not in a sexy way.  But, more specifically verbal humiliation. He genuinely gets upset if you’re the one to say he’s not good enough for you in some capacity or compare him negatively to somebody else. That’ll kill the mood in seconds.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Much prefers receiving to giving.  Seeing you on your knees with his cock in your mouth his heaven.  And being able to cum all over your face and chest when he’s done? He’s in heaven.

That being said, he’s not bad at giving, he just ends up mostly using his fingers while he runs his mouth.  He can’t help it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough, like all the time.  He basically has no other mode.  Now, whether it’s more intense with pent up emotions or a fun stress reliever depends on his mood.  Either way, if you’re not a sweating, panting mess by the end of it he feels like he’s failed in some way.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes.  He’s going to say yes to quickies.  Where ever and whenever is good for him.  But, don’t think it’s really over when it’s over.  He only considers it a preview of what he’s going to do to you once you actually get some time and a little more privacy.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s certainly willing to try different positions and kinks, but he’s not big on getting more toys in the mix.  He’s more than happy to tie you up and spank you, but he’s not so keen on adding a paddle or something like that, if that makes any kind of sense.  It’s about his body and what he can do to you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Just as good as every other clone, with a fantastic recovery time. A solid average of three rounds per night lasting as long as either of you can stand it.

That all being said, he’s in constant competition with himself on how long he can last and for how many rounds.

Current record for time is two hours before he came once with you cumming a total of five times. Current round total is him cumming five times in one night while you lost count of yours.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Surprisingly not his thing. He’s got some cuffs he uses on occasion with you, but not much else. Like I said, he’s in competition with himself, not him and a toy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t tease often, but when he does, he’s an asshole.  He’ll keep you pinned down, lazily rubbing the tip of his cock against your opening, never fully going in until you’re squirming and begging him to just fuck you already.  Sometimes he will and sometimes, he’ll leave you hanging there.  It all depends on his mood.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not especially. In the beginning he keeps it almost conversational, as he talks dirty into your ear. But, it all changes when he comes to the end. It’s like whatever control he had over his vocal cords gets shut off. He curses a lot combined with grunts and borederline feral growls as he rams his cock harder and deeper into you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Crosshair has a real jealously streak, especially when it comes to regs. 

While he’s confident in his abilities, he’s aware more than Wrecker or even Tech that they’re basically a bunch of freaks the Republic likes to keep under wraps.  A funny little lab experiment.  While regs were made just as much as he was, they actually have a chance at being...well, normal after all is said and done.  He’s not sure he’ll ever be normal.  So, the fear of you realizing you’re dating an actual freak of nature weighs on him constantly.

He needs to remind himself that you’re with him, that you chose him and you’re not going to walk away.  It drives him crazy that you make him feel that way, but it’s the truth.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Just as long as his clone brothers (a solid 8-inches), but not as thick.  Not that he need that extra edge.  His talent is precision after all.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I’d say he has the highest of the batch, actually getting agitated if he hasn’t had a good fuck in more than a few days.  His hand can only do so much for him before he gets down right hostile.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I’d say it takes him a solid half-hour to finally fall asleep after sex. He’d never tell you, but he likes the feeling of you asleep in his arms. He’ll savor it for as long as he can.

[inkedtae]

For Drabble game! High society JK and OC with a secret relationship fucking desperately because OC just got arranged with someone else

warnings; dom!jungkook, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), elevator sex, semi-public sex, rough sex, dirty talk, daddy kink, degradation, jealousy, light fingering, choking, extremely unedited

In and out. That’s how quick you planned on attending this benefit. No pictures, small talk or “catching up.” Adjusting your earring in the elevator mirror, you take a deep breath and remind yourself of that fact. And, you tell yourself, if you do see him, run. It’s possibly the easiest way to avoid his allure. You promised your mother you’d give the suitor she suggested a chance. That means running at the first sight of-

Ding! The elevator doors open. Jungkook meets your gaze in the mirror. Eyes first stunned with a surprise, narrow down at your well fitted dress. They linger around your curves. A breathless gasp escapes him a he smirks.

He enters, standing a little too close. Your mind is telling you to run, to get off this floor and catch the next elevator. But, you don’t want to. It’s stupid to admit but you want to have this last, little moment with him. Composing your features, you inhale deeply as the elevator doors close.

“You got my gift.”

Mind stunted by the deep register of his voice, you almost miss his words. His gift? When you found it all laid out on your bed, you assumed your mother had done that for you. Risking a glance, you find him facing forward, eyes locked in the door but hands brushing against yours. Knuckles knocking, you ignore the sparks of lust and return to face the door.

“You’ve got good taste.”

He scoffs. Stepping forward, he stops the elevator and turns towards you. Closer and closer, he approaches until his chest presses against yours and warm breath fans over your face.

“Are we really gonna pretend the whole night?”

“I didn’t plan on staying that long.”

You don’t realize your words have an alternate meaning until you see the anger flash in his eyes. He searches yours, as if trying to confirm what you have said is true. Swallowing thickly, he asks, “You’d fuck him in the dress I bought you? You’re that big a fucking slut?”

His hands grip onto your hips, pulling them into his. Whimpering, you try to correct him but something about the jealousy in his eyes cinches your word in your throat. His anger and undeniable neediness turns something on in you and you cannot, for the life of you, turn it back off. Instead, you find yourself sliding your leg out from the slit of your dress and up his slacks. Hooking it around his tiny waist, you whisper, “Give me a good reason not to.”

He cups your sex. Your arousal instantly stains your thong, a fact he accustoms himself well to. Raising a brow, he chuckles then tongues his cheek. You shudder in his whole. Why he feels the urge to completely watch you crumble every time he sees you will always be a mystery to you. Maybe he just knows he can and that’s enough for him. And, you have to admit, it’s a pretty damn good reason too. You just wish it was enough for you too. Enough to stay, enough to say it. 

“Need more of a reason?” He asks. You forget how well he knows you sometimes. 

Face hot, you shrug. The indifference spurs something inhuman awake in his eyes. You don’t have much to decipher it as this newfound animalistic side of him takes over. A growl tears through his tear. Sneering, Jungkook attacks your neck. His vein-laced, tattoo speckled hands already grip and rip the dress up. You don’t waste much time either, or at least you won’t dare to. The clang of his belt unbuckling cuts through the raps of heavy breaths and his desperate whimpers. You cling onto each other as he eases himself in you. Long satisfied sighs escape you in unison. 

He towers over you, hissing, “He can’t stretch this little pussy out like I can.” You nod, in agreement, words lost as he pushes himself further into you. “That’s my babygirl’s favourite thing, right? Being stretched out by a fat cock?” 

His thrusts grow hard, fast and consistently brutal as you’re left to take it all. Not much can even leave your lips besides the occasion whine of his name and a broken “uh-huh,” with every question he aggressively poses. 

“Now, fucking say it. Tell me who can fuck your whorish pussy this good?” 

“Daddy!”

“And does Daddy like to share?”

“N-no.”

The elevator creaks with the persistent rams of his hips into yours. Clenching tighter and tighter with the threat of your orgasm, you think this is the peak of his degradation. He’s made his point, reduced you down into his own personal slut, fucking you dumb. But then, his fingers wrap around your throat and he seethes, “What’s the shitbag’s name?”

“Ta-” 

He presses harder, cutting the name off before you can even get a syllable in. “What was that?” He mocks, lips attached to your earlobe. 

You try again only for him to tighten his grip once more. 

“The only name that should leave those lips should be mine,” He rasps, voice breaking as his cock twitches deep within you. “Understood?”

He loosens his grip enough for you to take a proper breathe and gasp, “Yes, daddy.”

“That’s my little bitch.” 

[create a moment with me]

[theladyofdeath]

Rags & Riches {20}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: So, this is how it ends. Epilogue coming soon.

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

It had been days since Nesta had been called to the coroner to confirm Cassian’s identity. Now, she sat atop a hill, looking over the cemetery, watching the funeral take place, Marigold at her side. She couldn’t be there, among everyone as they mourned. She did not want to know what the preacher was saying, did not want to see the pain in everyone else’s eyes. There were a few people there whom Nesta did not recognize. Then, of course, her family, her sisters and father, and Rhysand and Azriel, all stood there, too. Watching as Cassian was lowered into the ground, and dirt was thrown on top of his coffin. 

She waited for them all to leave before she walked down the hill, Marigold behind her, and sat in front of his headstone atop the patch of dirt. 

She cleared her throat. “Well, I hope you enjoyed everyone sobbing over you. I’m sorry I sat so far away.”

Marigold huffed from where she stood. Nesta gave her a look. 

“I have been thinking for days about what I would say when this time came,” she began, her voice quiet. “Now, everything I came up with seems insignificant.”

She reached into the satchel over her shoulder and took out a book. “So, I must apologize. I may have ripped apart your book of Keats. I’m working on putting it back together, but I do not believe it would stand the weather conditions.” She placed the book against his headstone, among the flowers that sat there. “So, I brought Wordsworth. Do not worry, I took out my note, and photograph. In fact, the photograph went into the fireplace. Hopefully, it finds you in whatever world is after this one. For...when you get lonely.”

Nesta couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on her mouth as she chuckled, but it quickly faded.

“Cassian…” she hesitated, her gaze falling to her hands, folded in her lap atop her skirts. “I am sorry. I am so, truly sorry for being so frightened. Frightened to be with you, frightened to...love you. To say it. Because I was in love with you, Cass.” Her voice broke, but she lifted her chin, even as her eyes pooled over, the tears rolling down her chilled skin. “I was so in love with you, so much so that it almost seemed impossible. And I was so afraid to tell you, because that love was overwhelming. I had never felt love like that, had never known that I could feel love like that. But, I should have told you. You deserved to know. I wanted you to know. I hope you did know, Cassian, that I loved you so. And I just…” she blew out a long, slow breath. “I am so angry at myself for taking so much time away from us. I pushed you away for too long, Cassian. I took away our time. Because of me, we did not have all the time that we could have. It wasn’t enough. And I regret that, so deeply. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Cassian. But I will find you in the next world, the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.”

Her fingers brushed over the words engraved on his headstone. Cassian Nazari. Son, brother, friend. He had only been twenty-two. 

“I love you,” she whispered, “and I will always love you.” Her hand resting upon her abdomen. “We both will. Apparently we Archeron sisters are very….fertile. Which, I have found myself grateful for.”  

She had found out soon after he had gone to war, but she told no one. She did not want to take away Elain’s spotlight, and then Feyre had been with child, and lost it, and there never seemed to be a right time. Even so, Nesta liked keeping the secret. It was a piece of him that she held onto when he was gone. And it was now a piece of him that she would hold onto until she died, until she went to the next world, and met Cassian there.

“I told my father that I do not wish to marry,” she rasped, wiping at her eyes with gloved hands. “I wish to inherit his kingdom alone, and I will have an heir, and we will live and run the place in which we fell in love.” 

The blue sky clouded over as she sat there for a long while. 

“I miss you,” she breathed. “I would give up the world to have you back in it.”

A soft breeze came by and blew Nesta’s hair out of her face. It caressed her skin, made the hairs on her arms stand tall.

She smiled, wistfully. “I love you, too.”

She rose to her feet, her boots crunching atop the leaves as she approached Marigold. 

“Anything you wish to say before we part?” Nesta asked, taking Marigold’s reins. 

Marigold huffed, nodding her head up and down. Nesta kissed her nose. “He misses you too, Mari. Come now. Let us go home with the others.”

Nesta climbed up onto the saddle and clicked her tongue. Marigold, fully aware of the babe within Nesta’s womb, took her mistress home, slowly and carefully. 

~~~~~

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed at the game board. “I do not understand the point of this game.”

Feyre blinked. “That is only because you do not have enough patience for it.”

Rhysand chuckled.

She was right.

It was two days after Cassian’s funeral, and they would be leaving for Velaris soon. The two sat in the library, near the fireplace, hovering over a game of chess. 

Feyre was annihilating him.

“Perhaps we should go rest, instead,” Rhysand suggested, head tilted.

“Because you are tired?” Feyre asked. “Or,  because you refuse to lose a game of chess to your wife.” 

With a sleepy grin, he held out a hand to his wife. She walked to the other side of the table and fell into his lap, her cheek resting against his shoulder.

“Are you ready to go home?” she asked.

Rhysand debated. He felt like it had been a lifetime since he had been home, in Velaris. He knew his estate was in good hands, knew his staff was trustworthy and respectable in his absence. 

“I am ready to bring you home,” he said. “To show you Velaris.” 

Feyre smiled up at him. “We will finally be able to start our lives.”

Rhysand nodded. After all that he endured, after all they all had endured, that is all he wanted, all he could hope for. To start a life, a real, normal life, with his wife. 

“I figured we could have a celebration,” Rhysand said. “Perhaps in a few week’s time, To celebrate our marriage. The whole city will be invited.” 

“Is that so?” Feyre crooned.

Rhysand nodded, eyes falling shut. “Yes. They will all come to meet my beautiful wife, and we will eat, and dance, and make them all jealous of how in love we are.”

Feyre snorted. “Spoken like a true romantic.”

He pulled on her waist until he was being straddled, her skirts hanging over his legs. His hand reached for the back of her neck, and he pulled her forward, pressing his lips against hers.

She kissed him slowly, savoring every second. Rhysand melted into the chair, taking her with him. The world could be burning down around him, but she brought him back to reality. She made him feel safe, worthy.

“I am very romantic,” he muttered, against her mouth.

He could feel her smile, before she kissed him, again. Their tongues brushed, and Rhysand growled, softly, in the silence of the library. 

“Must we?” A voice came from the threshold. “In the library?”

They both looked up to find Nesta, Oswald at her feet, with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

Rhysand cleared his throat as Feyre stood up and brushed down her skirts. “He cannot seem to keep his hands to himself.”

Nesta snorted - the closest she had come to making any sort of joyful noise in nearly two weeks. 

“I hear you two are to leave this afternoon,” Nesta said, meandering further into the massive room. “For Velaris.”

“We can stay if-”

Nesta waved Feyre off, mid-sentence. “I do wish you and Elain would stop worrying. Go on with your lives, Feyre. Go home. It is what I want. You two deserve to do so. I will be fine.”

Feyre’s mouth closed and she nodded. “Will you visit?”

Nesta stopped, hands outstretched in front of the fireplace. “Of course.”

“And Ossy too, yeah?” Feyre asked, falling to her knees before the pup and scratching him behind his ears. His long, golden tail went wild.

“I was hoping I could speak to your husband alone for a moment, Feyre,” Nesta said, her back to them both.

Feyre froze and looked over at Rhysand, who nodded once. 

“Very well,” Feyre said, clearing her throat. “I will take Ossy outside to play, then.”

After another hesitant look at Rhysand, Feyre led Oswald out of the library.

Rhysand stood and straightened his jacket. “Nesta-”

“Please,” she breathed, then paused. “I felt that I must tell you…..that is-” Her words fell off, flustered. Rhysand may not have known Nesta well, but he knew her well enough to know how uncomfortable she must be, alone with him, vulnerable. “It was not your fault. What happened. I know that you feel as if it is, just as Azriel believes it is his fault, but….you being there when he-”

Nesta stopped, and turned to face Rhysand. Her eyes were stripped, bare, so open and honest. “When he passed. It is not your fault, what happened, and I do not wish you to live as if it were. If I may be honest with you, Rhysand, I am grateful you were there with him, so that he did not have to leave this world alone.”

Rhysand stared at her, lips parted. He was speechless, unable to form a decent thought.

“Take Feyre home,” Nesta whispered, adoration shining in her eyes at the mention of her youngest sister. “Enjoy your time as one, start a family, give her the adventures she has always longed for. Be happy, together. You cannot do that with the weight of guilt on your shoulders.”

Rhysand nodded, and ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair. “And what of you? Will you find your own happiness?”

Nesta looked back to the fire, flames dancing within the confines of red brick. “I had never been truly happy, before him. He...allowed me to experience joy. Freedom. I have not been able to separate the two, not yet - Cassian and joy. But, now that I have experienced both, perhaps I will be able to find that joy, again. For myself. Not in a man, perhaps, but in all other ways this world can offer.” 

Rhysand nodded, his jaw locking. “I truly wish you do find that joy, Nesta.” 

She nodded, refusing to turn back to him. 

“Thank you,” he said, quietly, before he walked toward the entrance. 

“Tell Feyre I will be down to bid you both farewell,” Nesta said.

Rhysand promised, before leaving her alone, staring into the fire.

~~~~~

“Is there a reason you’re staring at the drive?”

Azriel spun around, spotting Feyre walking toward him, Oswald on her heels.

“Erm,” he looked back over his shoulder, toward the long, dusty drive, before scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, Elain went to see the doctor in town this morning. I tried to go with her, but she told me to stay and finish gathering our belongings. I thought she would be back by now.”

“Are you worried?” Feyre asked, stopping next to him.

“I’m always worried,” he muttered.

Feyre nodded, understanding brightening her eyes. She took a deep breath. “I am certain she’s alright. You know Elain...she probably stopped to pick flowers or tell Helion how much she adores his current work in progress.”

Azriel chuckled, then nodded. “Yes, you’re right.”

Feyre picked up a stick and threw it. Oswald ran after it.

The carriage came around the trees, Edward sitting with the reins atop the black cab, the Archeron family seal on the side.

Azriel wanted to run to her, but he remained frozen in the grass. He knew Feyre was looking at him with the utmost concern, but he could not convince either foot to move.

The carriage stopped in front of the house and Elain hopped out, smiling at where he stood with Feyre. With one hand against her abdomen, she hurried toward them.

“I apologize for taking so long,” she said, as she approached. “I had to make a few stops before I came back.”

Feyre cleared her throat, before turning her back to the pair and chasing after Oswald. 

Elain laughed, watching them both fade into the pasture.

“A few stops?” Azriel repeated, as she reached up to kiss his cheek.

“Yes,” she beamed. “I got you something.”

Azriel lifted a brow. “Me?”

She nodded, taking a small parchment wrapped package out of her satchel. He took it from her, slowly, and pulled the paper apart, carefully.

He pulled out a little pair of white, knitted booties. He smiled, fondly, before meeting Elain’s eyes. “As precious as these are, I do not think they will fit me, my love.”

Elain laughed and pushed against his chest. “Stop it.”

Azriel held up the booties before putting them back into the paper. He kissed her, quickly, as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “They are lovely. The baby is healthy, then? The doctor said everything is okay?”

Elain nodded, brown eyes shining. “Yes, she is perfectly healthy.”

“Good, I-” Azriel froze, and Elain laughed at his expression, taking his face into her soft, gentle hands. “She?”

“He believes it is a girl,” Elain said, smiling brightly. “I must admit that I have thought as much, too.”

“A girl,” Azriel breathed, unable to do anything more than repeat her words.

“Yes,” Elain said, her fingers brushing across his cheeks. “A girl, Azriel.”

The tightening that had been controlling his chest seemed to fade as he stared at Elain. And when he kissed her, he felt peaceful. He was going to be a father, to a beautiful, healthy baby girl. 

Then Elain would become his wife.

And if they were forced to live in a cruel, unfair world, Azriel came to the conclusion that he was given far more than he deserved.

~~~~~

After hugging Feyre goodbye and trying to stop Elain’s endless stream of tears, Nesta watched Feyre and Rhysand, and Elain and Azriel, disappear down the drive. 

Oswald whined by her feet. Nesta patted his head, gently. “I know, Ossy. But, you still have me.”

Oswald whined again. 

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “That is rude, Oswald.”

She walked the pup back inside before grabbing her satchel and walking back out the door, alone.

There was something she had to do.

After hopping atop Marigold, they rode for a little over an hour, until they got to the other side of town. Marigold, true to her nature, rode protectively with her mistress. Because of that, however, it took a little bit longer than Nesta had expected, but she liked riding in the fresh air. 

By the time they arrived at the little cabin on the edge of town, Nesta was content, her nerves having lessened just a bit. 

Smoke was puffing out of the chimney, so she assumed they must be home. The moment Nesta was on the ground, however, slowly walking toward the door, those nerves returned in full force.

She knocked, and waited, and though she only waited less than a minute, it felt like an eternity.

The thick, wooden slab swung open and a girl appeared, a few years younger than Nesta. She had hazel eyes, and long, curly brown hair. Her head tilted to the side in confusion, no doubt having taken in Nesta’s apparel, her apparel and stance were of a lady. 

Then, her eyes widened. “Mama? We have a guest! Come in, please.”

Nesta nodded, gratefully, and stepped inside. The cabin was small, but warm and cozy. They had a fire blazing, a black lab sleeping peacefully on the rug in front of it. 

Nesta cleared her throat. “My name is-”

“Oh, we know who you are,” the young woman grinned, and her grin was so much like Cassian’s that Nesta’s chest ached.

“I’m Layla,” the girl said. “My mother is-”

“Here,” a woman came around the corner, smiling brightly. Her hazel eyes lit with surprise as she took in Nesta. It was clear that both Cassian and his sister took after their mother. “I’m Helena.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Nesta said. “I’m Nesta.”

“Oh, we know who you are,” Helena said, repeating the words of her daughter moments before. “Please, sit.”

Nesta did so, sitting on the couch near the fire. 

“Would you like some tea, dear?” Helena asked.

Nesta shook her head. “No, thank you. I do not wish to bother you long, I just...had some of-”

Helena clicked her tongue. “No, no. I must get something first. Oh, where did I put that damned thing?”

Layla chuckled. “Top of your dresser, mama.” 

Helena scurried from the sitting room and Layla sat across from Nesta. “So, you were my brother’s lover, then.”

Nesta froze, and Layla laughed.

“You will have to excuse us,” Layla continued. “We have no idea how to talk to a lady.”

Nesta smiled, softly. “Nor did your brother, but I liked that about him.”

Layla’s grin widened as Helena returned. She sat by her daughter, an envelope in her hand.

“Nesta, my dear, I must say I am surprised to see you. We hoped to speak with you at the funeral, but we did not see you,” Helena said.

Nesta watched her hands. “I watched from the hill.”

Helena nodded, hazel eyes growing soft. “I see. Well, I am glad that you have come. We have heard a lot about you. Cassian wrote often with many stories about the eldest daughter of Isaac Archeron.”

Nesta’s cheeks warmed as she met their eyes. “All good things, I hope?”

Helena laughed. “All good things, I assure you.”

Nesta swallowed, her discomfort growing. “I came because I had a few things of his that I thought you might like.” She took the distorted book of Keats from her bag. “Um, I...may have destroyed this, but I have spent time putting it back together. Also, I have his pipe-”

“My dear,” Helena began, quietly, watching the way Nesta’s hands shook. “You should keep those things. Cassian wanted you to have them, which is why he listed you as his contact. Those are yours.”

Nesta stopped, brow raised. 

Helena’s smile was bright, so full of love and adoration for her son. “We know more than you think we do, it seems. Here.”

She handed Nesta the envelope she had gone to look for. Nesta took it, carefully. It was already opened, addressed to Helena and Layla, written in Cassian’s hand.

“That is the last letter I received from my son,” Helena explained. “While he was on the continent.” 

It was like holding a piece of a ghost, a lost piece of her heart.

“Well, go on,” Layla pushed. “Open it.”

“Hush, child,” Helena muttered.

“Well, I want to see her reaction,” Layla muttered, back. “Can you blame me? And I am not a child.”

Nesta huffed a laugh as she pulled out the letter. Between the sight of his hand and her wild hormones, her eyes were watering before she even began reading. 

My dearest Mama and Lala,

I am currently sitting at camp, by the fire while Rhysand and Azriel sing drunkenly, reading Wordsworth. Keats may be my favorite, but when I read Wordsworth, I feel like Nesta is here with me, and for that reason, I cannot stop.

I miss you both terribly. Mama, I hope your sickness has faded and you are feeling well again. As for Lala, tell her to keep away from that bastard down the road. She is too good for him.

She deserves to marry a man who loves and respects her, and he surely does not. When I get home, I promise I will visit, and if she is seeing that prick, I will be forced to do things I am not proud of. Do not make me make a fool of myself, Lala.

Speaking of love, I had a favor to ask. I remember you telling me long ago that when I met the woman I wish to marry, I could have your ring. When I get back, I hope it is alright that I may have it. I wish to ask for Nesta’s hand. It is true that she may say no, for I know she cares for me, but I am still much lower than she in social standing. However, if I do not ask, I will never forgive myself. 

You will like her, Mama. She is just as stubborn and just as much of a pain as you and Lala. But, like you and Lala, she has forever stolen a piece of my heart, of my soul. I am in love with her. I am in love with her, Mama, and I wish for her to be my wife.

They will be collecting our letters shortly, so I will say no more. I promise to write again soon.

I love you both.

But seriously, tell Lala to stay away from that prick. I mean it.

I will see you soon.

With all the love,

Cassian

The letter fell to Nesta’s lap as she wiped a tear from her cheek and looked up to Helena, who was watching Nesta, quietly.

“I cannot believe it,” Nesta breathed.

“That he wished to marry you?” Layla asked, quietly.

“That he thought there was a chance I would refuse,” she said, her heart full. 

Helena reached into her pocket and pulled out a small gold band with a sapphire encircled by small diamonds. “This was my mother’s. I had no brothers, so as the eldest sister, I inherited it upon her death. I was saving it for Cassian, when he found the woman he wished to marry. You are that woman, Nesta. He may not have had the chance to ask, but this is yours, my dear.”

Nesta’s eyes widened. “Oh, I- I cannot.”

“But you would have accepted,” Helena smiled, kindly. “I can see the love for him in your eyes. Wear it, think of him, of his love for you.”

Helena held out her hand, and Nesta hesitated before reaching out. Cassian’s mother slipped the ring onto her finger, where it fit perfectly. “See?” Helena beamed. “It was meant to be.”

“Thank you,” Nesta breathed. “Truly.” 

Helena pulled Nesta into her arms, and Layla wrapped her slender arms around them both. Once they pulled back, Nesta stood.

“I hate to be leaving so soon,” Nesta said, in all honesty. “I would love to visit more, but it will be growing dark soon and I have a long way home.”

“Of course,” Helena smiled. “Travel safely and come see us again soon?”

“Of course,” Nesta promised.

She walked to the door, then stopped. “I actually was hoping that I could visit often. As well as you both being welcome at the Manor, of course.” She turned to meet their curious gazes. “I am with child. Your grandson.”

Helena’s hands covered her mouth, her hazel eyes welling up with tears. “You are pregnant?”

Nesta nodded, slowly. The words sounding foreign, as nobody had yet to know. 

The two rushed at her so suddenly that Nesta’s body fell into a defensive mode, but when they reached her, Nesta was swarmed with hugs and kisses on the cheek, as well as Helena rubbing her hands all over Nesta’s abdomen. 

They talked for a while longer, rejoicing over the good news. Helena said that, hopefully, the baby does not turn out like Cassian, for he was a hellacious toddler. 

A fact that Nesta was not surprised by, whatsoever. 

Nesta promised she would visit them again the next weekend, and the weekend after that they would travel to the Manor. 

As she went back outside once the sun began to set, Marigold huffed.

“Yes, I told them.”

Marigold swung her head.

Nesta smiled. “Yes, they were very happy. Are you not loaded with questions this evening?” 

Marigold huffed, once more, as Nesta stopped in front of the mare, petting her fondly.

“Yes, I believe it will all be okay, too. Eventually.”

Nesta pressed her forehead against Marigold, and the horse remained silent as she wept.

But for once, as she cried, Nesta’s heart was no longer shattered. For the first time since his death, Nesta felt the slightest glimpse of hope.

She saddled Marigold, and they began their journey home.

“Perhaps tomorrow we shall go to the cemetery, Mari,” Nesta said, as they reached the dirt path. “I must tell Cassian that his mother and sister are very kind. Also, I must tell him all the embarrassing childhood stories Helena just told me about him.”

Marigold nodded, her mane flying wildly.

Nesta laughed. It seemed Marigold wanted to hear the stories, too. 

Nesta straightened her back and held her head up high, one hand on the reins, the other resting on her abdomen and the small bump that had begun to form as the sun began to set.

Night would arrive soon, but a new day would follow. 

~~~~~

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @mariamuses @a-happybird @amusicalbookworm @manoncrochanblackbeak @alifletcher2012 @candid-confetti @fandoms-everywhere-united @mis-lil-red@littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @awesomelena555 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @rhysandsrightknee @gendryaforthemasses @dayanna-hatter @thebluemartini @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @julemmaes @christiashadows @sleeping-and-books @itsme-malin @agnez312 @cat5313 @amren-courtofdreams @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed @islamonna @illyrianbeauty  @sleeping-and-books @queenofxhearts @sleeping-and-books @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth @queenofillea1 @mynewdreamwasyou @levivlio @hellolenas @burritowithfeels @that-other-pineapple @girl-who-reads-the-books @raghad-50725@musicmaam @rowaelinforeverworld @negativenesta  @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit@sannelovesreading @nerdperson524 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @nerdperson524 @mariamuses @gorl-power @booklover242 @rowaelinforeverworld @regular-nessian-trash @izou1204 @aelin-rowan-whitehorn @opheliatheemerald @eversincebeirut @musicmaam @ladybookwrm​ @santas-dwynwen​ @starryandbooks​ @candid-confetti​ @avenrebekah​ @awkward-avocado-s

[atc74]

Making Circles - Month Six

Square(s) Filled: Smiting for @heavenandhellbingo

Warnings: Case angst, being fake married to Dean, arguing, smiting, case level violence, emotional pain

Summary:  Dean and Y/N have to pretend to be married for a case. But this isn’t any ordinary case. Married couples have gone missing from Albert Lea, Minnesota, every six months for the last few years but there is almost zero evidence. People don’t just disappear like that do they? With Bobby and Sam’s help, plus an ally in their new town, they have just under six months to figure it out. Chances are they’ll survive the case, but will their friendship survive their fake marriage?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1522

Written for: @heavenandhellbingo

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, who says the nicest things and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and also keeps me on a straight line. I heart you! And @alleiradayne for letting me bounce ideas off her, like all the time.

A/N: This will be six chapter series, one for each month of the case, plus a bonus epilogue. Loosely based/inspired by the song Making Circles by Christian Kane and I just felt this needed to be written. There will be lyrics dispersed throughout the entire story. I hope you love this as much as I do.

The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

Making Circles master list

Month Six

Y/N sat in the office pouring over old files, crime scene photos and newspaper clippings, hoping something would jump out at her. They had less than a month to wrap this up before two more people went ‘missing’ into a puff of pink dust. With how things were going with her and Dean, and the fact that Cas didn’t think the Rit Zien knew the difference between emotional and physical pain, it very well could be them next.

It was this dance they were stuck in and they were coming up one more graceful, or at least well practiced, spin. The words were the same each time the song played. She and Dean moving around each other, the same words, the same actions. They were trying to keep up the charade, go through the motions, say the words, but it all worked out the same in the end, didn’t it? After they wrapped the case, where would they be? Back to hunting, best friends and partners. Five months can make you see a person in a whole new light and that was where she found herself now.

Clearing her mind, she returned to the clippings when something caught her eye. She checked another clipping. She double and triple checked the information before she called Dean.

“Hi, Honey, what’s up?” he answered casually.

“You need to come home right now. I think I found something. Something huge.”

“Don’t move. I’m on my way.”

The garage was a fifteen minute drive and Dean made it home in less than ten. “Y/N! Honey! Where are you?” She heard his boots echo through the house, hitting the hardwoods as he ran through the first floor.

“Down here!” Y/N called from the bottom of the stairs.

His footfalls pounded heavy down the wooden staircase as he raced to her. “Tell me you have good news.”

“Look at these clippings,” she requested, handing him a magnifying glass. “Tell me what you see.”

Dean examined each of the eight articles and pictures she had laid out over the desk. He went back and forth, inspecting them over and over. “Son of a bitch.”

“You see it too? I’m not crazy. Tell me I’m not crazy,” she pleaded with him.

“You’re not crazy,” Dean confirmed. “You’re a brilliant, badass hunter, Honey. You did it!” He pulled her in and kissed her. The kiss wasn’t rushed like the first one they shared. As soon as her mind recovered from the shock, she threw her arms around him, eagerly kissing him back. This kiss held more passion and promise than the last.

“Dean…” Y/N breathed, pulling back from his embrace. “I know the last five months have been a roller coaster, but it’s been good. It can’t get much better, but it sure can get worse. Either way we turn, it’s gonna hurt.”

“Y/N, we go round and round trying to work it out, and all we get is hell bent and bound. We’re never far from right where we are. You think that we would get enough, I know there’s a possibility that we’re going to fuck it up. But we’re holding on, and we’re sinking down. We go, round and round, making circles.” Dean read her mind, finishing the thought for her.

“Dean, we circle each other, like partners in a dance or fighters in the ring, it depends on the day. Let’s just focus and finish this thing, then maybe...just maybe we can figure out what this is, or what we even want it to be,” she suggested, holding out hope that they actually got the chance to have that talk. “I’m going to grab us a drink, why don’t you call Cas?”

“Yeah, okay. You’re right, we can wait,” Dean conceded and bowed his head. “Cas, we need you, buddy. We got something here and we need your help. So come on down, you’re the next contestant on Name that Douchebag Angel,” Dean opened his eyes, hoping Cas would have appeared in the room with them.

“Hello, Y/N,” Cas rasped from the doorway to the kitchen, startling her.

“Cas! Don’t do that!” Y/N shrieked.

“I’m sorry. Did you not just pray for me?” Castiel tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“No, Dean did. He’s downstairs,” she led the way, waiting for Cas to follow her.

“No, I am pretty sure I heard you loud and clear, Y/N,” Cas repeated.

“No, Castiel. I did not pray for you, despite what you think you heard. Now, forget about it and let’s finish this shit now!” Y/N growled at him as they entered the office.

Dean had not seen this fire in her since the demon hunt. He was relieved he was not the cause of her anger this time. “Whoa, did you piss in her Cherrios?”

“I don’t understand that reference, Dean,” Cas declared and Dean broke out in laughter. “Dean, I hardly think now is the tim-.”

“Focus, Dean!” Y/N chided him, dragging Castiel to the desk to look over the news articles she had been inspecting. “Cas, we think this might be the angel, the Rit Zien. They are in all the photos from the newspaper. These couples didn’t live in the same neighborhood, so it cannot be a coincidence that this person knew all the couples. We think this is it.”

“We won’t know for sure until they show up. I cannot recognize their grace from a grainy photograph,” he explained. “I will need to see the vessel in person to know if this is the Rit Zien.”

“Well, they are drawn to physical or emotional pain, right?” Dean inquired. “I think we’ve got enough of that right here. They’ll come.”

Days and days passed without incident. To say things were tense around the house would would be putting it lightly. Dean and Y/N worked, came home, ate and went to bed. On the fourth night, she couldn’t take it anymore. She broke.

“What do you want from me, Dean? I need to know where I stand with you,” she cried. “I can’t go back to our normal lives knowing how this feels and how badly I want it to be real.”

“This is the closest we’ll ever get to normal. I want to believe that in our lives, our real lives, that a relationship with you is possible. But, what if we can’t? Aren’t you sick and tired of trying with me? We keep fucking this up, running circles around each other. What if we keep fucking it up out there?” Dean challenged her, afraid of what she was really feeling.

“You know what? I can’t do this right now. I thought I could, but no. Nope. And don’t bother coming to bed. You can sleep in your old room for the night. I need some time,” she sniffed, trying to hide the tears and emotion rolling off of her. She ran up the stairs and slammed the door to the room they had been sharing. Until that night.

Dean wasn’t even sure what happened, but he knew he had said the wrong thing. He usually did. He grabbed a beer and went up to shower before bed. It was going to be a long couple of weeks in this house with her if he couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

Dean closed his eyes as the water pounded down on him. The shower was hot but felt good on his tired muscles. Almost six months of manual labor in the garage had been harder than he thought it would be. But he adjusted, he figured it out. His body acclimated to the job, his mind to their new identities and his emotions to this new life. His eyes flew open, struck with the epiphany of how to fix it. He turned off the water and quickly dried himself off when a scream tore through the house. “Y/N!”

Dean took off down the hall to their room, clad in only his towel, and threw open the door. There in the middle of the room was a strange woman with his wife, his pretend wife. Y/N had always held her own in any fight with any monster they had ever encountered, but she was screaming out of terror. Dean had never seen that look on her face before. He couldn’t help but think he was the cause of at least part of it. The woman never even registered his presence in the room.

“Y/N, it doesn’t have to hurt like this. I can make all of that go away,” she cooed, even as Y/N continued to wail. The woman raised her arm to Y/N’s forehead and Y/N started glowing pink.

Dean had never moved so fast in his life. He grabbed the hidden blade and lunged at the angel, plunging the weapon deep within it’s chest. A bright light burst through the room before the angel disappeared, leaving nothing but the vessel and pair of scorched wings on the carpet. “Keep your hands off my wife, bitch.”

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

Okay, seriously right?! I’d love to hear your thoughts! 

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @paintrider13-blog @hunterscabin @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid

The Dean’s List: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @supernatural-jackles @docharleythegeekqueen @adoptdontshoppets @mtngirlforever

Making Circles: @squirrelnotsam @karikatz12481  @deans-baby-momma​

[ficsandpieces]

Could I request Camus x reader for ♛: Sharing a dessert, please?

I would like to apologize in advance to all Camus stans for what follows.

Camus staggered back, one hand shielding his face from the blinding beauty of what you held in your hands.

“You–” he gasped, one hand clutching his chest as if he was in great pain. “My eyes must be deceiving me. This cannot be possible!”

The smirk on your face was almost as wide as the depth of Camus’ anguish. You held up the box in your hands triumphantly.

“I don’t know what you’re making such a fuss about, it’s just a cake.”

“You halfwit!” The look in Camus’ eyes was equal parts lust, fury and disbelief. “Can you really be so ignorant? Do you truly not know the treasure that you hold in your hands?”

“Of course I do,” you answered smartly, whisking the box away from his grasping hands. “This is what you’ve been obsessed with for the past few weeks, isn’t it? That’s the whole reason I bought it to begin with.”

The switch in Camus’ mood was almost as dramatic as his outburst earlier. Now radiating peace, love and mercy, he held out his arms beatifically.

“I see. You should have said so from the very beginning, little fool.” The dazzling sparkles from his smile wasn’t strong enough to disguise the greed in his eyes as he stepped towards you, his gaze fixed hungrily on the box cradled in your arms. “Come, I shall gracefully accept your humble gift with gratitude. Your due diligence in procuring what I was not able to shall not go unrewarded. I shall permit you a single taste of the exquisite treasure within for your services.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but it’s the other way round actually.”

His steps froze.

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me the first time,” You could actually see the light dim in Camus’ eyes as the words dropped from your lips like a death sentence. “This isn’t for you.”

The sound of Camus dropping sharply to his knees echoed as you turned and placed the box in your hands on the table. Lifting the cover, you took your time to admire the cake inside. It really was a beautiful piece of confectionery, almost like a work of art. It was a little hard to believe that what you were looking at was actually edible.

After taking a picture of it with your phone, you were in the middle of scrolling through your contact list when you heard Camus stagger back to his feet behind you.

“You must be lying,” he rasped, one hand against the wall for support. “There cannot possibly be anyone else you know who has the eye to appreciate such beauty and goodness besides me,” He straightened up, his composure gradually returning. “There is still time for you to repent. I shall forgive your transgressions this once if–”

You held a finger up to your lips as the call connected.

“Hello? Cecil?” There was an audible boom from behind you as the wall next to Camus begun to crumble, inflicted by the violent blizzard which had suddenly raged up around him. “Yes, it’s me. Yes, I managed to get it, thank you so much for your help with this. Are you free to come over now? You are? Oh, he’s here too but I already promised to share it with you–”

Your fingers stung with cold as your phone was abruptly snatched from your hand. “Ajima,” Camus growled, his hair drifting in the air with the force of his fury. “SIT. STAY.”

Breathing heavily, Camus tossed your phone back to you. You woefully beheld the ice-encased phone in your hands and stared resentfully at him.

“You owe me a new phone.”

“You shall receive however many phones you want in exchange for The Queen.”

You looked down at the cake with the grandiose name in front of you and then back at Camus.

“I hardly think that’s enough, do you? Never mind, I remember Cecil’s number, I can always call him again–”

“Wait!” A single drop of blood wept from the side of Camus’ lip as he bit back a roar. “Name your price, heathen. I shall endeavor to fulfill whatever dark desires you may have, even at the cost my very soul.”

You rolled your eyes at the extent he was willing to go to for a single dessert.

“Anything?” you asked in confirmation. “You’re sure?”

“A knight never goes back on his word. I swear, on the name of–”

“Right right, I get it.” Ignoring how miffed Camus looked at not getting to invoke the title of his sovereign, you waved off the rest of his sentence and sat back in your chair.

“First, no more name-calling. I’m used to it by now but it would be nice to see you and not be insulted every once in a while.”

“As you wish,” he sniffed in disdain. “If that is all…”

“Not just me. I mean towards everyone.”

Camus paused. “Everyone?” he repeated incredulously. “Surely there must be some concessions, there are imbeciles out there who cannot be called anything else–”

You gazed steadily at him, your fork poised over the top of the cake, ready to stab down and disfigure its surface. He sucked in a breath.

“I shall try,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “What else?”

“I want you to call me by my name.”

He blinked at you. “Is that not what I have been–”

“I mean my first name,” you cut him off. “It’s about time, isn’t it?”

“…I suppose,” he admitted grudgingly, much to your surprise. “There seem to be no end to your demands. I suppose it would be too much to hope that that is the last of them?”

“You wished,” you smiled. “Next, take me with you the next time you go back to Permafrost.” You’d never been there before and the thought of seeing where Camus grew up intrigued you. He paused in thought, and sighed.

“Fine. That can be arranged.” He stared down at you, his patience clearly at its limits. “Surely that is the last of your demands?”

It was all or nothing now. You took a deep breath, your words coming out in a rush.

“There’s this Florence Nightingale mini-skirt Halloween costume that I’m sure you’ll look great in–”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! THE AUDACITY!”

It was a testament to how sturdy the table was when it didn’t break under the force of Camus’s fist.

“I-I cannot,” He was breathing heavily, his voice that of a man who was on his knees in the greatest agony. “Even if it is for The Queen…The Queen–!”

You were beginning to get the feeling that the man before you might actually physically shatter into pieces right in front of your eyes if you pushed him any more than this.

“Three out of four isn’t so bad, I suppose,” He slowly lifted his head and gazed at you, the light of hope gradually returning to his eyes. “Just one bite then.”

“Not even a slice?”

The fascination of seeing Camus actually pleading with you made you let your guard down. “I could concede to a large spoonful if it makes you feel better.”

The only thing indicating that Camus had left the room was the gush of wind that followed in his wake. You blinked and he was back again, a porcelain plate in hand. You made sure to keep a firm grip on the tray that the cake was placed on in case he decided to break his word and hijack the whole thing anyway.

“Remember, one spoonful.”

His confidence restored, Camus simply looked you straight in the eye, his arrogance rapidly returning in full force.

“Of course.”

Reaching into his coat, he pulled out what looked like a garden spade except that it was slightly smaller, made of platinum and engraved with elaborate carvings. Elegantly spinning it around his fingers, he swiftly sliced down at the speed of light, neatly separating the cake into two with one slice being more than three quarters of the whole thing.

Sliding the head of the spade under the larger piece, Camus was about to ladle it on to his own plate when you finally recovered from the shock of almost having your fingers sliced off.

“There is no way that is a spoonful!” You objected, jabbing a finger at the implement in his hand. Seeing him arch a brow at you, you resisted the urge to throw the rest of the cake at his smirking face.

“This is, to all purposes, simply a very large spoon. If it has a handle and a rounded head suited for scooping and serving then it fulfills the standard definition of a spoon, regardless of its size.” He lifted the spade, the edges of the abnormally large slice he had cut and chosen filling the surface of the blade right to the edges. “Observe, a single spoonful.”

You watched in disbelief as he transferred what could no longer be called a single slice of cake to his own plate, sliding it off the blade with a flourish. The look that he gave you as he carefully wiped down what he insisted to be a spoon made it clear that it was his victory.

By this point you were wondering what the difference between manslaughter and murder was, and if you suffocated Camus with enough cake which of the two would give you the lighter sentence.

You had reached the stage of planning how to dispose of his corpse when a cup of tea clinked against the side of your plate. Looking up from the pathetic remains of what you had thought was a sure victory, you saw a full tea service on the table. Camus was standing behind you, having plated the remaining slice of cake and setting it before you while you were lost in thoughts of crime. Placing cutlery on either side of your plate, he went on to unfold and spread a napkin in your lap, then returned to his seat and folded his arms.

Your first name rang from his lips like the summons of an avenging angel.

“I shall allow you the first taste of her glorious majesty. Hurry up.”

All thoughts of murder temporarily blown away by the fact that he was actually doing what he had promised you earlier, you slowly reached for your fork. The minute the cake touched your tongue you understood why Camus had been willing to sell his soul for a single bite.

When you recovered, you blinked and found yourself subjected to the extremely disturbing sight of Camus sparkling like a vault of diamonds, a spring wind blowing his locks into an attractive mess as he indulged in what had to be the most indecent look that you had ever seen on him. He looked, for all the world, as if he was in the midst of the greatest ecstasy ever known to man.

“Well done,” Daintily dabbing away the tears of bliss which had gathered at his eyes, he bestowed a smile worthy of a saint upon you. “This would be considered a great accomplishment for someone of your standing, peasant.”

“You promised–!”

“I was not addressing you,” he replied smoothly, his fork going in for another bite of the cake which he had impressively managed to demolish a third of. “I was simply describing your social status.”

Right, murder it was then.  

[cryoculus]

Any scenario with iwaizumi and tsukishima with their s/o please?

So I consulted an RP Generator for this one and here’s what the RNG gods told me to write ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ side note: they dont necessarily “love” the reader character tho. they kinda just feel strongly about em.

Iwaizumi

He had to reread the encrypted text message a few more times before the gravity of the situation finally settled in his chest. 

Iwaizumi Hajime was known to be a surefire assassin that spared no one on the hit lists given to him. Not only did he get the job done, but he was also meticulous with his work. He made sure that the kills he’d secured would never be traced back to him or his clientele and that’s why he’s so popular in the market.

But this job in particular has him reeling into the depths of his conscience. It had been sent to him in the middle of the night as he was polishing his company-issued sniper rifle. The familiar chime of a notification from the almost jurassic cellphone given to him solely for the purpose of business transactions didn’t come to him as a surprise anymore. 

Usually, the jobs piled up right after he’s completed one for the night. He’s given the choice to refuse any job he didn’t see fit to execute, but this particular client was someone his boss specifically told him never to say no to.

[01:58 AM]

(Surname) (Name). Today. 3 AM.

These particular text messages were straight to the point. All his clients had to tell him were the name of the person he needed to dispose of and the date they wanted the job to be done. Iwaizumi had standard prices for his work and he expected the client to load the money into his bank account right after he confirmed the transaction, which he was having trouble deciding on right now.

He fidgeted with his thumbs as he attempted to compose a reply. But the longer he hesitated, the more his emotions began to betray his reason.

(Surname) (Name). Iwaizumi never thought he’d be seeing that name in particular written in the pixelated font of an encryption message. It wasn’t the first time he was tasked to take down someone he’s familiar with; not at all. But he never felt such a strong desire to turn a job down before. 

The career of a hitman wasn’t a pleasant one and Iwaizumi knew better than anyone that he had enemies everywhere. There had even been a time when he was left staggering in an alley, clutching a bleeding gash in his stomach where one of those yakuza folk slashed him with a sword. A damn sword. 

But just before he could succumb to the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole in a dingy crevice where no one would mourn him, you descended from the heavens and became his saving grace.

His memories of you were brief but clear. Soft hands tending to the worst of his injuries, the sharp incense in the room, the tender words that were nearly enough to nurse him back to health – how could he kill the woman that once saved him from death’s awaiting arms, knowing that he was your enemy.

[02:07 AM]

That’s the prodigious doctor under the wing of the yakuza. If that person is gone, they won’t have any means of getting back on their feet to bare their fangs at us any longer.

Iwaizumi usually replied to job requests within a minute. If it took longer, that only meant he was either hesitating or uninterested. Given that this was a client he absolutely cannot refuse, he’s sure the person who sent the message knew that he needed a little push to agree to take it.

He didn’t want to. He already knew who you were and what you did, but he still didn’t want his hands to be sullied with your blood.

“I think killing off the capo was necessary,” you sighed as you replaced the bandages around his stomach. “He was making wonky decisions all over and he just expects me to do damage control when he sends our men into those turf wars. I’d thank you, but that would be mean.”

“Mean?” Iwaizumi chuckled. You, a doctor of the yakuza, would describe thanking him for killing your leader ‘mean’? He expected you to just pummel a rusty knife into his stomach instead of actually healing him. Yet, to his surprise, you did the latter. 

Your touch was as light as a feather while you patched him up. The feeling of your fingers grazing the bare skin of his torso was stirring something inexplicable in his chest, but before he could dwell on it, you broke the silence.

“You must be wondering why I’m helping the man who assassinated the capo, aren’t you?” Your lips stretched into a smile, patting down the bandages evenly. 

“I am,” Iwaizumi agreed.

You sighed as you stared out of the window of your apartment. “Doctors are supposed to tend to anyone that needs medical attention, regardless of their affiliations. The capo has been giving me shit for that principle for a long time, saying that my talents were the yakuza’s property.” You gritted your teeth. “I didn’t like that.”

Iwaizumi sat in saturated silence, olive eyes observing you as you sat down on your bed with him. You shook your head. 

“Sorry. I was just rambling,” you apologized. “I’ll be heading out in a while. Lock up when you leave, will you, assassin-san?”

Your whimsical behavior knew no bounds, did they? Iwaizumi nodded. “Can I at least get the name of my savior?”

“(Surname) (Name). You better remember it.”

With a bated breath, Iwaizumi made up his mind, typing in a hasty reply to confirm the job. You were nothing but a stepping stone to him; an unfortunate soul that showed kindness to the wrong man. You should have killed him before he could kill you.

But even with his convictions aligned, Iwaizumi’s fingers still trembled when he pulled the trigger to put a bullet through your skull as you soundly slept in the same apartment where you plucked him from death. 

When he swooped into your apartment, something died in his chest along with your passing as he checked your pulse. Your blood coated the crisp white sheets and he swears that he can still see the sight of your peaceful corpse when he closed his eyes. 

This was the fate of an assassin with the blood of dozens in his hands and, frankly, he was used to it.

Tsukishima

“Kei?” 

The sound of you calling his name startled Tsukishima from his bubble of thought. What had you been telling his ear off about before he spaced out again? 

You huffed, puffing your cheeks. “Kei, I am going to tell on you! You’ve been really out of it lately.”

He mumbled a half-hearted apology before letting you prattle on about the latest fashion trends that caught your interest. Tsukishima didn’t care, but he had to seem interested since he was your bodyguard. 

The only child of the Yamato family that owned an entire chain of weaponry businesses across Japan was, for lack of a better word, spoiled. Not only did your parents grant all of your wishes to compensate for their constant absence, but they had to hire someone like him to keep your safety secured. The most pressing detail was that, you were about his age already, yet you still had the mentality of a thirteen year-old. 

You were annoying, it was an inexcusable fact. Tsukishima had a low tolerance for people he deemed vexing, but the pact between his family and yours was set in stone before either of you were even born. The Tsukishimas were in debt to the Yamatos and his service was payment for the favor they made ages ago. So even if you grated at his nerves every five minutes, he’s learned to cultivate a lengthy patience for your childlike behavior. He had to.

But childish you may be, he took his job seriously. Your safety was the highest priority for him, even if it led to the demise of other people. That’s exactly what happened when one of the Yamato family’s rivals in the industry thought it would be amusing to blackmail him.

“Listen, punk,” the burly man that infiltrated the Yamato manor rasped, holding a gun against his temple, “we’ve got your pretty little family under hostage back in Miyagi. If you don’t do as we say, they’re at the end of the line.”

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes at him. “Why am I supposed to believe you?”

He chuckled before gesturing at one of his comrades, who produced a cellphone from his pocket. When he unlocked it, displayed on the screen was a live feed from a camera in a place he wasn’t familiar with. In the room, he could clearly see the blindfolded and restrained figures of his mother and older brother. 

“What do you want?” he conceded, but remained calm. All he needed to do was minimize the casualties. His eyes flicker over to you, who’s also being held at gun-point. But unlike him, you were red-eyed and sniffling, fearing for your life as if Tsukishima couldn’t do anything to save you. 

The man taking him hostage put the gun in his hands. Tsukishima frowned. What did he want him to—

“Shoot the girl.”

His blood froze in his veins. Your shriek was deafening when the man’s intentions was put on the table, thrashing about in the arms of the other criminal holding you in place. He growled a threat in your ear, which effectively shuts you up. But even in your silence, Tsukishima could see the desperation in your glistening eyes.

Please don’t kill me.

A dry chuckle resonated in his chest and the man by his side cast him a bizarre look. But before he could dish out any more threats in Tsukishima’s ear, the blond immediately aimed the gun’s muzzle against the man’s chest and pulled the trigger without another thought. 

He let out a choked up gasp, blood spurting from his mouth, before crumpling to the ground. The other two men yell in surprise and before the man hostaging you could put an end to your life, Tsukishima fired another bullet straight into his skull. You yelped but before you could fall under the weight of the man he just killed, Tsukishima ran to you to support your weight on his back.

“K-Kei,” you whimpered. “They’re going to hurt them. They’re going to hurt them because of me.”

His family. This was the first time you showed any concern about anyone else besides yourself and this bothered him more than it should. 

“Boss! Kill ‘em! Kill ‘em dead!” The man holding the cellphone that showed him what situation Akiteru and his mother were in barked into a walkie talkie. “The young Tsukishima brat is a—”  

You screamed at the sound of another gunshot being fired. The last of the culprits slumps onto the floor in a bloody puddle. You were trembling on his back now and with a sigh, he tossed the gun aside to bring you to safety.

As he brought you to your room, he laid you down on your duvet so he could make some calls about what happened in the manor. But just before he could leave, you clutched the sleeves of his suit. 

“Don’t leave me,” you sobbed. “I-I promise I’ll make mom and dad get those guys for doing this to you, but please…”

The sight of you crying was routine for him. You cried at least once a day because of menial things and Tsukishima has since developed immunity to your emotions. But the sincerity in your voice to assure retribution for the men who threatened his family surprised him. 

With a shaky breath, he nodded and lied with you on your bed. For once, you weren’t chattering about the trivial matters that you involved yourself with. You soaked up in the deafening silence with him, not daring to shatter the temporary peace.

Deep in his thoughts, Tsukishima could only think about the last time he spoke with his brother.

“When you get back, we’re going to play lots of volleyball again, okay?” He grinned like an idiot back then and Tsukishima called him as such. Akiteru called him mean and said when he came home in six months’ time, he was going to get a beating.

Did he…have anything to come back to now?

“Kei?”

He turned his amber-eyed gaze to you, still sniffling but less puffy-eyed. 

“Thank you.” You managed a pursed smile.

You didn’t need to thank him. You never thanked him. But admittedly, the gratitude was nice to hear.

[dailyusuk]

Masticate

America, America. he murmurs in his head, an incantation. God bless me, America. America, how did the world come to this?

Rated PG-13 for gore. Direct sequel to "Primal" in the Primalverse series of fanfics. Reader discretion advised.

What may the threads of steel wire which entwine themselves between strands of muscle and beads of sweat speak of the teeth which all of humanity (nation-kind) hold within themselves?

England chooses to ruminate on this as the acrid taste of blood fills his mouth. He chews, quiet.

The large corpse of some behemoth, perhaps a remnant of an ancient civilization long gone by (though he does not focus his mind uponst such sentimentalities) curves inwards in a caldera brimming with searing hot oil. England’s long hooves skitter across the crispy surface of the creature and abruptly stop as he desperately dips his (still human) hands into the soupy mixture and brings the liquid to his lips and-

The oil evaporates in a blast of steam, sending England’s hair flying about his face as he pauses to balefully inspect his bare hands (thirsty, so needy).

He is in need of water, that much is clear. Whatever monster he has found himself crawling across will not grant that much to him.

A sound. He jerks to a full stop, then slowly turns around to see China meet his gaze with eyes of ambergris.

China is a beautiful creature, fiery feathers fanned about his scaly serpentine skin, elegant long claws of lacquer, many arms extended in an approximation of nirvana. Every motion he makes towards England’s comparatively primitive form emanates light, blinding England with his iridescence.  

“England,” China rasps, his voice echoing, male, female, child, adult, and neither overlapping as if five entities are speaking in disjointed unison. “I can see that you are not with your… companion.”

“I am not,” England confirms.

“Then,” China narrows his many eyes. “You are easy pickings.”

The sudden usage of the tongue of nations jerks something awake within England, and he launches himself at China, snarling and snapping with rage. China swiftly dodges and brutally locks England’s metal-framed head in a lock with his many arms of stone, heavy pearl jewelry clicking into place to lock England in a collar befitting a dog.

“I am far older than you,” China whispers. “Stronger, wiser, grander. Give up your companion’s location.”

Gears snap into place within England’s skull. China still clings to his humanity.

“I refuse,” he snarls back.

Were it not for the scent which filled England’s snout at the time, China would have cracked his head open with a vice grip, arms clicking into place to smash his brains out with the force of a thousand blades. As it were, the breaths of the great creature below chose to shift at that very moment, and the rush of sensation which comes with the aroma of budding roses and sandalwood pulls England’s skin away from his face to reveal layers and layers of tooth-lined flaps of flesh like the petals of a rose. His wings split into three and slash China’s arms into pieces, freeing England enough to allow him to bolt across the frothing surface of the lake of oil.

England’s sightless reality is snapped into focus once more when a familiar form tackles him, sending him crashing through the tenuously solid surface of the lake, furiously grappling his foe for purchase so as to not sink into the muds of forgetfulness. He snags long locks of hair and knows.

France.

England sinks his teeth into shaggy fur and twists, eliciting a muffled yowl from France and allowing him to push away from France’s thick feline form to break the surface of the lake and run, knowing that both France and China are not far behind.

He hits the edge of the oily lake and scrabbles at the smooth (skin-like) edges of the caldera, newly formed claws grappling for purchase. He gouges a foothold into the slope, pus bubbling out, and boosts his lanky steel body up the slope.

Slick, slash. He gouges one more foothold into the slope, and then another. France and China’s hot, laboured breaths are not far behind.

America, America. he murmurs in his head, an incantation. God bless me, America. His claws slip, slick with pus and blood, and his hind legs are snapped off by a pair of jaws. He thinks that there are more primal nations (Germany? Denmark? Portugal?) below him now, frenzied therian forms pursuing meat. How did the world come to this?

At the thought of his lover his body lets out a violent gasp, thrusting steel wings out behind his back, like dark corrugated fans. Blasts of cold wind (the sea winds over Dover) burst from his feathers like exhaust fired from a pipe, sending his pursuers tumbling down the slope and giving him the boost he needs to reach the crest of the slope, claws clicking against the edge, free-

England feels a deep presence in his chest, barbs peeling away the sheets of metal and flesh encasing his core. Iridescent blood trickles from the ragged edges of his chest wound where the scorpion spine impales and pins him to the caldera slope.  His grip slackens, and then they are on him.

Suddenly, his body is everywhere and nowhere, reduced to nothing but spoils, juicy meat. Japan, France, Turkey, China, Germany, Portugal, Spain - they are all on him, glassy jewel eyes glowering back at him as they pull bits and chunks away from his body, devouring. He can see and sense them from all directions as if his remains have become an eye, tactile.

France greedily sucks down his bowels, finally taking his ground-up riches of land and sea. Spain and Portugal, twin feathered dragons, take an arm for each, crunching bits of English armor and arms between their serrated teeth. Turkey, in his horrible golden armoured scorpion form, picks apart England’s chest, inspecting every ivory rib (stolen maritime English riches) he pulls out before sucking it into his maw with the sound of shells cracking. Japan gracefully reaches between the porcelain plates of England’s face and delicately rips his lymph nodes out with his long ogre claws, taking shark teeth and glassy pearls into his fox snout and ripping them into gossamer ribbons. China, ever the beast, is the most savage of them all. His many arms tear into England’s long horse legs, ripping his stolen porcelain and gunpowder caskets out bone by bone and presenting them to his many heads like temple offerings in a unified, undulating line of sacrilege.

England would scream if not for his want of a mouth.

Overhead, the corpse of the moon glows with a red bisecting stripe of blood.

In his core England knows what happens next.

He feels his savaged, bloodied husk of a torso hit the flat rim around the slope of the caldera, then feels America press his lips to his own, breathing life into him.

He opens his eyelids, and America is there by him, face intact and human. England lets out a rasping sob.

“America,” he gasps, too good to be true.

“Hush, babe,” America rumbles, the voice too deep yet reassuring. “Those beautiful legs of yours need some time to recuperate. R&R and all that.”

England ties a trembling tendril of muscle around America’s outstretched hand. The rows of shark teeth inside of his jaws are caked with old blood. Whether he died a moment or two thousand years ago, he does not know.

The frothing inside of the caldera belches a gaseous mixture of sulfur and molten flesh.

America leans down close to what remains of England’s ear, metal fingers tightening reassuringly around England’s rapidly reforming phalangeal bones. “I killed them all, you know,” he hisses lowly. “I ripped them apart at the damn seams until I found their humanity at their core. Then I would stitch them together again and reshape them with metal and clay until they begged for forgiveness and mercy underneath my hands. And then,” America mimics the motion of snapping a neck. “I would take them up on that offer.”

England hisses a breath through his copper throat. Truly, America is too good for him.

“They will come back, my dearest,” England murmurs back sweetly. “You cannot kill those bones which support the core of humanity, arrogant as you are.”

“Oh, I did,” America said nonchalantly. “In my form, nothing can escape my will.”

A thousand previous lifetimes scream in England’s skull. He recoils, pushing America away with his remaining strength.

“You did not,” he growls. Only now does he know the numbness of fear.

America smiles, distantly and yet so real. “Funny how the shape of God was, in fact, a white man made in our image? Perhaps that is why so many have failed to achieve my throne.”

For all of those visions which plagued England when he first saw metal plates straining at young America’s clothes, he did not anticipate America’s absolute power looking like this. He is ever the unassuming American everyman who England married in that controlled cage of domesticity, dressed in loose slacks and a partially unbuttoned shirt. Only his sleek metal hands and his unnaturally blue eyes betray his nature.

He smiles easily, and this time his pleasure is not faked.

“England,” he says, hand outstretched. “The love of my life. You always loved me when I called you that, right? In that American Dream of banal suburbia. When we were steeped in sin and freshly plunged into this hell we could not coexist, two lovers like us.” His speech is halted, grinding, as if he has not spoken a word in millenia. “Please. Come with me. You and I, we are perfect. As long as we are happy. We can reshape this world, rewrite it.” He wiggles his fingers at England, a familiar tic. “Come on.”

England stumbles, his legs of marble turning pink and steaming, morphing into fresh raw human legs (those legs which America ran his fingers along, reverent). He reaches his hand out, as he has always done.

And when their fingers touch, there is divine union.

[heyitsani]

Weight Of My Soul

Word Count: 11,084

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mind manipulation, and Dick being a dick

Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson

Summary: After a fight with Dick, Jason comes across a Jinn and makes a wish that will change everything.

Notes: This is dedicated to @epistemologys @nerd-by-definition @mlim8 @shannara810 @hedgebelle and @the-man-moth 

I don’t want to give any notes because it’ll spoil the story.  So if you need some, head to AO3 and read the end notes to understand the lore I used.  Or DM me and I’ll answer any question.

You can also read it on AO3 here

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

“Are you fucking insane?!” Jason growled as he pulled off his helmet the moment he and Dick landed on a rooftop far enough away from the crime scene to not catch the attention of the cops, but close enough to be sure they got there in a timely manner.  “Why the hell would you just give yourself over to them like that?  We had it covered, we were good.  Do you always have to be such a fucking masochist?!”  He knew he wasn’t technically being fair, that things had been starting to go sideways, but he was still so pissed that Dick hadn’t even warned him.  He had just jumped into the middle of the nest of criminals and “let them” get the drop on him.

“Why are you so upset? Everything worked out fine,” Dick pointed out, just making Jason’s temper flare hotter.  “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.  And I don’t need you thinking you have any right to fight my battles for me!”  He didn’t understand how the older man just didn’t get that people cared enough to not want him to sacrifice himself whenever he possibly could.  

It made Jason want to put his fist through the brick wall to his left.

With another growl and a choking motion with his hands, Jason turned and walked toward the furthest point of the rooftop, pulling his phone out at the same time.  “Stay over there.  I need a fucking minute!”  He snapped at Dick, who tried to follow him.  Dick stopped and Jason let out a huff of air as he dialed an all too familiar number.

“Jaybird,” Roy picked up on the second ring.  “Aren’t you and lover boy doing some big bust tonight?”  At the playful mention of Dick, Jason growled again and kicked the raised edge of the rooftop.  “Jay? What happened?”

“Code Green,” he said as controlled as he could, trying to focus on holding off the green haze as best he could.

Roy swore on the other end of the line and Jason could hear the telltale signs of the man moving around. “Are you safe?”  Jason gave a grunt and glanced over his shoulder to see Dick watching him from the other side of the rooftop, further than where he had initially been.  Part of him was thankful for him trying to give Jason the privacy he thought he needed. “Dick still there?”  Another grunt.  He didn’t need to speak for Roy to know that this episode was probably made worse by Dick without the older man even realizing it.  “You know the drill man.  Breathe in for five, hold for five, breathe out for five.”

Jason followed the instructions and tried to regulate his breathing, listening as Roy began telling a story about what Lian had done the other day.  It was a stupid story about a doll and a boy at school who had tried to take it from her.  

“Like her mom,” Jason rasped when Roy said she was a little badass.

Roy scoffed, faux offended at the fact that Cheshire was more badass than him.  But Jason wasn’t fooled.  Roy knew it too.  “You doing okay?”

Taking a deep breath, Jason let it out slowly and took stock.  The green edges on his vision had faded but he still felt like the smallest thing could set him off.  “I’m good. I’ll go home and sleep the worst of it off.”  Roy hummed and Jason knew he was still concerned.  “I’ll call you when I get to the safehouse.  I just need to be sure the cops do their part for this job with Nightwing.”

“Just be careful.  And you better call.”

Jason let out a soft chuckle and confirmed he would before he ended the call and turned to head back to where Dick was now standing, watching the distance.

“You know,” Dick started when Jason got close enough to hear his hushed voice.  And while most people knew Dick’s temper and how hot it burned when he was yelling, few knew this tone.  Few knew that when Dick got quiet and hushed after a fight, things were about to get ugly.  “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.  I think about it all the time, how one different choice could have changed the entire path our lives went down.”  Jason frowned, not entirely sure where Dick was going with this.  But he remained quiet as he came to a stop next to him and looked out at the flashing red and blue lights as the GCPD arrived on scene.  

He was still on edge from the Pit Haze, but he had it under control now at least.  Otherwise, he would have snapped at Dick to just say what he meant.

“If you had never been brought back by whoever it was that brought you back, then you wouldn’t be dealing with all of this now.”

Jason’s blood froze and he jerked back almost as if he had been slapped.  And Dick saw it, he saw the reaction but just kept looking at Jason as if he should have something to say in response.  But what did you say to someone who basically said you never should have returned?  That you should have stayed dead.

“Jay…”

“No,” he snapped, backing away from Dick and picking up his helmet.  “You stay the hell away from me.  Then maybe you can pretend that I never came back at all,” he said as he shot his grapple and took a running leap off the rooftop.  

He knew he was probably taking it differently than Dick meant, but he also knew that Dick went for the gut when he was upset.  He went for what he knew would hurt the most.  He had watched him do it with countless other people, but he had never expected to be on the receiving end of it.  Not when they had been so close to something.  Not when Jason had been trying to show Dick just how important he was to him.  How Jason’s whole world revolved around the older man.

That just made it all hurt even more.  To the point that his anger decided it was a safer option and took over his emotions.

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

They kept their golden eyes trained on the man as he stormed around the ramshackle building he had run off to after the argument with the one in black and blue.  The power flowing over his skin was tempting and mouth watering and it was torture to have to wait for the words that could possibly not come.  But with the way the man had been muttering under his breath, they were certain the phrase was right around the corner. 

It was just a matter of waiting until he finally gave in.  And from what they had witnessed between the two men, it was going to be worth the wait.  Not only was this man dripping in power, rolling green waves of it surging over his skin, but he was lonely.  

So desperately lonely.

The fight made that clear with the words exchanged.  The man in black and blue had used emotional manipulation that even they themself could be proud of.  And they were almost tempted to see just how far that manipulation could go, but observation was only so fun.  And they were in the mood for a meal.

So they stood a short distance, watching the man pace back and forth, just waiting to hear the words.  And almost as if the man had heard their thoughts, he stopped in front of the random, broken mirror in the corner and uttered:

“I wish Dick Grayson had never come to Gotham.”

“Finally,” they whispered, snapping their fingers and revealing themselves to the man.  And they weren’t in any way surprised that there was a gun immediately pointed into their face.  “That will do you no good.  I’m friend, not foe.”  The man narrowed his eyes on them but made no move to lower the gun.  So they simply ignored it.  Moving lazily around the room, they ran their fingers over a plant on a table and along the back of a chair.  “I am here to help with your little birdie problem.”

“What are you?”

“I am Jinn.”  The man paused and frowned, his gun finally lowering to his side.

“You’re a genie?”  The man scoffed, but Jinn could tell he was digesting the information.  “As in three wishes?”

They lifted a rich brown shoulder, left bare by the black leather top they wore. “A fulfiller of dreams, I prefer to say. Of hearts desires.  Of wildest dreams.”  The man’s eyes remained narrowed, but interest had sparked within them. And they knew they had won.  “So like I said, I can help with your birdie problem.  If you want me to, that is.”

He paused and they waited, their victims were always so predictable. “What’s the catch?”

“You cannot wish me out of existence but otherwise, nothing will be required of you.”  That you know of at least, they thought.  “All you have to do is say it again.”

The man hesitated still, watching them closely as he weighed the pros and cons, and they were surprised he lasted this long.  The days they had been following him had exposed a lack of impulse control when emotions ran high.  But currently they would say he was almost…calculating.  And they were surprised, but they also respected it. The harder the sell, the better the prize.

“Fine,” the man finally said.  And they couldn’t stop the smile from slowly spreading across their face as the words were muttered again: “I wish Dick Grayson had never come to Gotham.”

“Your wish is my command,” they said as they snapped their fingers yet again.

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

It was as quick as a blink of his eyes.

One moment Jason was standing facing a stranger, a Jinn who apparently wanted to grant him a wish, and the next he was in the middle of the street of what looked like Gotham.  But there was something off, not just in the look but in the feel.

“What are you doing man?  Get out of the streets!”  A teenager ran past Jason, scurrying up a set of stairs and rushing into the building. The door slammed shut behind him and Jason frowned.  What had the kid so scared that he would warn a guy who looked like Jason did off the streets.  

He took a moment to look down at himself and noticed he still had all his gear on, guns in place, but no helmet.  But at least he had some protection on his person.  With that small comfort, he started making his way down what the dilapidated sign claimed to be Ward St.  Which meant he was in Crime Alley and maybe the kid was worried about the all too familiar criminals roaming the streets.  But he could handle the usuals easily and he doubted that just because Dick Grayson was never a presence in Gotham that his own life changed that much.

But the look of the city certainly had.  Even in the distance where he should have been able to see the shinning lights of the Diamond District, darkness seemed to bleed over the entire scape. It was surprising and concerning. Enough that he grabbed a flyer that was stuck under the body of a car that had been picked apart by thieves, leaving a shell of a machine to just rust in the streets.  

Looking over the flyer, Jason froze.

Beware the Bat!

Beneath the large, bold print was a crudely drawn image of Batman and a paragraph that offered shelter in various locations to citizens so they could avoid being on the streets after sunset.  But that didn’t make sense.  Batman scared criminals, he didn’t scare regular citizens.  He was an urban legend to most of them.  But he was also a sense of hope.  That had been his whole deal.

“Psst,” a voice called to Jason’s left and he looked over to see a head peeking out of a window of a dark house.  A familiar head.

“Roy, the fuck!”  Jason hurried over and slipped in the unlocked door, shutting it behind him.  But the instant it was shut, he was being pushed face first into it and his arm restrained behind his back.  “The fuck-?”

That only got him shoved into the door more.  “How the hell do you know my name?”  Roy growled from behind him and Jason had no idea how to respond to that. Roy, his best friend and saving grace, was asking how he knew him?  But then something sparked a thought.  No Dick Grayson meant no Robin and no Teen Titans.  It also meant Jason was never introduced to Roy through the Titans.  But surely the young heroes would have come together without the influence of Dick?  “Answer me!”

“I’m Jason Todd,” Jason ground out, consciously forcing himself not to struggle against Roy’s hold.  “I’m from a different…universe?”  The Jinn hadn’t exactly explained how their magic worked and Jason wasn’t sure he was that kind of smart to be able to figure it out.  “In my universe, you’re my best friend and former teammate.”

That seemed to give Roy pause for a moment before the man was backing away and Jason was able to turn around, keeping his back pressed to the door.  It also gave Jason a moment to look over Roy from where he stood a few feet away.  But Jason didn’t like what he saw.  The man looked sick, drawn out.

Strung out.

“Roy…are you okay?”  Jason asked carefully, glancing around the small space and taking in the various signs of the addiction that he hadn’t managed to kick yet.  “Roy what is wrong with Gotham?  Why are you here?  Where is Oliver?”

“Don’t say that name,” Roy spat out, turning and heading to the fridge. Jason watched with wide eyes as the man pulled out a beer and opened it, taking a long pull.  He couldn’t remember the last time Roy had allowed himself to drink. Too many comments about recovery not being easy and how he had to fight it every day.  This Roy apparently didn’t have that issue.  “What?”

But Jason was at a loss for words for a moment.  So he shook his head and looked around again, trying to find signs of another person living there.  Was Kori here too?  Or Lian? But it didn’t look like anyone else had ever set foot in this hell hole.

Looking down at the flyer still in his hand, Jason frowned.  “Why is everyone afraid of the Bat?”  Jason asked carefully, looking back to Roy.

“Because he’s dangerous.  Because he lays out more justice than the GCPD.  Because he doesn’t allow second chances or hope.”  But that made no sense to Jason.  Bruce was all about justice being through the system.  That had been their biggest issue, Jason didn’t think that certain criminals should be allowed that mercy.  But Bruce didn’t think they should make that call.

“Do you have a computer?”  Roy grunted and gestured to an open laptop on the kitchen table that Jason had somehow missed.  Hurrying over to it, he immediately woke it up and typed in the password his Roy always used.  He wasn’t surprised when it worked this time too.  Roy made a noise behind him at the action, but Jason couldn’t concern himself with that right then.  Instead he pulled up a web browser and typed in Dick Grayson in the search bar.

The results were surprising and Jason clenched a fist at the sight of them. Of course Gotham has fallen to shit and Dick Grayson has his perfect life.  

Gold Medalist Dick Grayson Returns to his Family Act: The Flying Graysons.

The life that Dick had deserved.  The life he should have had in their reality but never got because of a debt his parents were forced to pay with their lives.  

“Who’s the looker?”  Roy’s voice sounded behind him, causing Jason to jerk and turn to face him.  The man raised an eyebrow and took another drink of his beer.  “Someone you know in your world?”  Turning back to look at the picture of Dick on the trapeze, Jason pursed his lips before shutting the screen with more force than necessary.

“Roy, why are you in Gotham?”

The redhead tilted his head and shrugged.  “Safer than Star City.  Safer than most places.  At least Batman scares the citizens and the criminals.  No one can control it the way he does.  ‘Sides,” Roy said, finishing off his beer and tossing the bottle away, “I’m not welcome in Star anymore.”

“What about Speedy?”

“The fuck do you know about Speedy?  I never told anyone about that.”

“More than you will ever apparently.  This world is shit,” Jason grumbled, moving away from the table.  “Jinn!”  He called out, looking upward.  He didn’t know how this worked, but he didn’t want this to be the reality he was stuck in. Fuck Dick Grayson and his goddamn influence on everything in Jason’s world.  Fuck him and his manipulations to get people to do whatever he wanted them to do. It was just his luck that he eliminates the person who would make Gotham good and Batman better.

Just his fucking luck.

“JINN!”

“Oh stop your shouting,” the familiar husky voice sounded from behind him, the room fading to just the two of them.  The image of Roy had turned hazy and Jason frowned at that.  Was this part of their powers?  Pause reality before changing it.  Shaking his head, he turned back to Jinn and narrowed his eyes. “Something wrong?”

“This reality sucks,” he said, waving an arm in Roy’s direction before holding up the flyer.  “You cannot tell me that Dick fucking Grayson had this much power as Robin and then Nightwing.”  The Jinn shrugged a slender shoulder, much like they had in Jason’s safehouse earlier and Jason wanted to punch them.

“I do not create the reality; I only change the elements asked of me. You wanted Dick Grayson to have never come to Gotham,” they said, looking right at Jason with eyes that spoke of too many lifetimes and witnessing of too much pain.  “This is that reality.  He is a man with faults, but he inspires others to be their best apparently.”

But what was Jason supposed to do with that?  How was he supposed to just be okay with all this bad that happened because he had wished Dick out of Gotham?  He wasn’t the monster people thought him to be, that Dick thought him to be.  He wasn’t. He wanted to help.  He wanted to make a difference.  That’s why he had joined Batman to begin with.  That had been lost for a while after he had come back from the dead, but it was back now.  He was trying.  He was.

“It is within your power to change.”

Three wishes.  That’s what all the legends said, right?  He used one and now he had two more to perfect this.  But he had to be careful because his words could easily be used against him and interpreted incorrectly.  He had to be precise.  But he had to bring Dick back to Gotham.  He couldn’t be responsible for this.  But how was he going to fix this without landing himself right back into Dick’s orbit? The man didn’t want him there, had voice his opinion quite plainly.  Not even Jason could miss that fact.

“Maybe it would have been better for you if you had never come back at all.”

Clenching his jaw, Jason took a deep breath and held back the hurt and rage that filled him when Dick’s voice filled his mind, those words reminding him that what he thought was heading toward something good between them actually wasn’t heading anywhere.

Then the idea hit him.  “I want to go back to my old world, but to never have come across the Batmobile that night in the Alley.”  Jinn tilted their head and considered him in a way Jason wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with.  But then they raised their hand just like last time and quirked an eyebrow before snapping their fingers.

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

The shift between worlds was just as sudden as it was before, but this time Jason had been prepared and immediately took in where he had landed. But he wasn’t sure why it didn’t seem too different from where he was last time.  The only difference was it was daytime.  But the street looked just as abandoned as before and the city seemed eerily silent for what looked like around noon, going off the height of the sun in the smog gray sky.

And from the look of the buildings on the street, he was in the Diamond District. But it was quiet, too quiet for even a weekend day.  There should have been people all over the sidewalks and cars on the streets.  

It should have been bustling.

But it was abandoned.

“The fuck happened this time?”  Jason muttered to himself as he walked further into the neighborhood before quickly ducking behind a dumpster when he heard screeching tires and gun shots.  He peeked through the gap between the dumpster and the wall of the building he was hiding between.  He wasn’t sure who he was seeing, but something about the gleeful way they were acting told him this was normal.  They were comfortable in their actions.  Almost like they knew no one was coming to get them.

“Kid,” a harsh voice whispered behind him.  Glancing back, Jason saw someone waving over to him from a barely cracked door. Glancing back at the vanishing criminals, Jason quickly made his way to the door and slipped inside.  

After his encounter with Roy, he was expecting someone else he knew.  He wasn’t disappointed.  Lucius Fox stood in front of him, looking older and more exhausted than Jason remembered.  But he learned from his experience with Roy not to reveal he knew the other man.

“You hurt?”  Lucius asked, looking Jason over briefly.  Jason shook his head and looked around the main room of what looked like an office turned into an apartment.  “Then what the hell are you doing out there?  Only someone desperate would do something so stupid with Bane’s men joyriding and the PD in their back pockets.”

“Where is Batman?”  Lucius let out a snort before shaking his head slowly.  “I know you know who Batman is.  It’s hard to explain but I’m from another universe.  Batman is thriving in mine, where is he in this one?”  So much for not revealing who he was.

“Thriving you say?  And I know you?”  Jason nodded but remained silent while Lucius studied him closely.  With a frown, the man walked over to the counter and pulled a pen and paper from one of the drawers.  Quickly he scribbled on the paper before handing it to Jason.  “Batman is there.”

Jason looked at the paper and found an address.  One that looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. “You shouldn’t have too much trouble out there looking like you do.  Make the guns more obvious and they’ll think you’re one of them.  But keep them loaded just in case.”

“Thank you,” Jason said, pocketing the address and moving back over to the door. “Lucius, where is your family?” The look that clouded the older man’s face told Jason all he needed to know.  He had seen grief too many time.  “I’m sorry.”

“Aren’t we all?”

With one last glance, Jason ducked out the door and headed back down to the main street.  He knew the general area where Lucius said Bruce was so he headed that way. Thankfully he didn’t run into anymore of Bane’s men taking potshots.  He wasn’t really in the mood to get in a fight.  He was too focused on figuring out what the hell was going on in this city.  It was eerie and far too abandoned to be anywhere close to what he knew Gotham to be. This was a ghost town.

Pulling the paper out again, he looked at the street number and gauged where he was in relation, heading in the direction he needed to.  When he reached the right address, he realized why it looked so familiar.  The police station.  Looking down at the number again just to confirm this was right, Jason sighed and headed inside.

“You lost?”  The man at the front desk questioned.

Shaking his head, Jason slipped his hands into his pockets and made sure his guns were exposed.  “I’m here to talk to the Bats.”  The cop looked him up and down, taking in the quality of his weapons before shrugged and jerking his head to have Jason follow him.

“You aren’t going to get much out of him.  Don’t think the bastard has said a single thing since he turned himself in,” the guard said as he led Jason down the hall of empty cells that he was so used to seeing full of the random rogues and villains.  It was disconcerting to see it empty save for the one cell at the end of the hallway.

Jason took in the figure in familiar orange, sitting on a bench and hunched forward.  It wasn’t the first time he had seen Bruce in that position, but he had never seen the man look so broken before.  It made no sense to him.  What could have happened that led Bruce to this?  And the fact that Batman turned himself in?  Jason didn’t think the man thought anything he did was wrong.

But this was not the image of a man who was full of pride and self-importance.

“You got a visitor, Bats,” the guard called out as they reached the glass wall that Bruce was behind.  The guard tapped his baton on the glass when Bruce didn’t move, but the man remained unresponsive.  “Good luck, kid.  Buzz when you want out.”  The guard gave him a long look before turning to head back down the hall.

Jason watched him go before turning to look at the man behind the glass. From this angle, he could see that the usual body mass of Bruce was all but gone.  Before him was a thin, graying, and weathered man.  This was all wrong.

“Bruce,” Jason called, knowing that since he had wished his own influence out of Bruce’s life that the man wouldn’t know him.  But he hoped that calling him by his name might get a reaction. It didn’t.  

And then a thought hit him, one that probably should have hit him as soon as Lucius made it clear Batman wasn’t on the streets anymore.  And oh god he hoped he was wrong.  He hoped he was not about to get an answer to a question that haunted him since the day he returned and realized Bruce had left the Joker alive.

“Bruce, where is Dick?”

Bruce’s head whipped up and Jason took a step back at what he saw.  Pale skin, circles so dark under his eyes that they were practically black, but that had nothing on his actual eyes. Dead.  There was no other way to explain it.  They were the eyes of a man who had lost everything, including the will to live.

“Who are you?”  Bruce asked, voice raspy and rough with obvious disuse.  But there was emotion in it too.  Accusations unspoken.  If Jason was a nobody, he shouldn’t know about Dick’s connection to Batman.  But Bruce didn’t know of Jason’s true connection. Not in this world.

“I know about Robin and I know who Dick is to you.  I also know he would never let you do this to yourself.  So where is he?  Where is Alfred?”  Jason moved so he was standing practically nose to glass, eyes watching ever twitch and flinch of Bruce as he spoke.  “Bruce, where is Dick?”  He was starting to fill with dread.  This was wrong on a basic level, but there was something deeper and Jason wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

But still he had to know.

“Dead.”

Jason’s heart stopped.  “No.” He shook his head, looking away from Bruce to try and process that revelation.  Dick wasn’t supposed to be dead.  Bruce needed him, the previous world had proven that.  The world needed Dick Grayson.  “How?”  He whispered, hoping it was loud enough for Bruce to have heard him.

“Joker.”  And just like that Jason felt the pit rage surge.  He hadn’t been there for the Joker to get his hands on so he got them on Dick instead.  This was his fault.  Again, he had made a choice and people had suffered in ways they never should have. It never should have been Dick. “It was a trap.”  

Jason didn’t need to hear the rest of the story to know that it was pretty much exactly what had happened to him.  But it had happened to someone it never should have happened to.

“Where is the Joker now?”

“Dead.”  But it was said with so much regret and so much pain that Jason forgot to breathe for a moment.  Bruce had killed the Joker because he had killed Dick.  And it was obvious that it had destroyed Bruce.  Not just losing his son, but breaking his one rule of justice. Jason had never understood why Bruce was so adamant about no killing, especially the Joker.  Now he was seeing exactly why.  Would this have happened to him if Bruce had killed the Joker after Jason’s death at his hands?  Or was this just because Dick was forever the golden child?

“Jinn!”  Jason called out as he backed away from a now confused looking Bruce.  When Bruce’s eyes went wide, Jason knew Jinn had appeared behind him but Jason couldn’t look away from Bruce’s face.  He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the shame and guilt that remained even as he looked shocked at the appearance of Jinn.  “I wish Bruce Wayne had never become Batman,” he said without looking away from the man.  He didn’t bother to look and see if Jinn was listening, Jason knew they were.

And the sound of snapping fingers proved that.

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

Jason felt cold the instant he touched down in the new world.  This was not a friendly world and it cried out in pain so loudly he could feel it in his bones.  And that wasn’t even taking into account the fact that Gotham looked like a warzone.  Buildings were missing half their levels and rubble littered the streets.  It was almost like looking at pictures from World War II in school so many years ago.

“What happened here?”  He asked the empty space.  He could tell there was no one nearby, not even the most reckless would trust any of these buildings.  But honestly, from what he could see in the distance, he would be surprised if there was anyone left in this city.

But without any other choice, he began walking down the street to once again figure out what had gone wrong.  He didn’t understand how things had gone so horribly with each of his wishes. But he knew this was wish number three which meant he was stuck.  Whatever this world was, it was his now.

“Come with us.”  Jason startled and turned to find two orange glowing figures floating behind him.  They looked like ghosts, but set his teeth on edge. There was something distinctly not right about them.  “Come with us.  Agent Orange will want to address you.”

“Who the fuck is Agent Orange?”  And why did it sound so familiar?  But the apparitions didn’t answer, simply grabbed an arm on each side, pulling him in the opposite direction of where he had been walking.

He shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was when he found himself being led up the steps of the city building a short while later.

Jason frowned at the piles of random items lining the aisle that had been laid out in the former city building.  The main structure was the same, but it had been completely gutted to make room for what looked like a massive throne with a figure in orange lounging lazily in it.  Whoever it was looked like they had taken a page out of the pimps of old and had someone make them a suit of orange velvet.  It was so horrendous it made his eyes burn, but at the same time he couldn’t look away.  The hat that sat perched upon their head completed the entire disastrous look with the cane resting against the arm of the throne.

Sparing a glance at the glowing orange apparitions guiding him down the aisle, Jason felt like maybe things were starting to piece together.  He remembered Kyle had told him the story of Agent Orange in the Vega system.  But he had claimed the creature holding the Orange Lantern was just that, a creature. This was most definitely a person.

Did that mean Larfleeze had finally been defeated?

“What have you for me, my pets?”

Wait.

No.

Jason knew that voice.  He would always know that voice.  It burned through his memories and scorched his dreams.  It was the voice of his greatest desires and biggest fears.  The voice that had caused this very situation he was in.

“Dick?”  Jason gasped when the person raised their head and Jason was finally able to see their face.  He looked different, a bit older and glowing with an orange light, but it was definitely Dick Grayson lounging on that throne in that disgusting suit like he didn’t have a care in the world.

He watched, mouth open and mind racing as he tried to grasp what was happening, as Dick shifted so his feet were resting on the ground, facing Jason fully. There was curiosity in his eyes, but there was something else there.  Something Jason had seen before but never this strongly.

Desire.

With a wave of Dick’s hand, the orange apparitions vanished and Dick and Jason were left alone.  “You know my Earth name,” Dick said, eyes narrowing as he stood from his throne. And suddenly Jason felt like prey. The slow steps down the massive throne made it look Dick was stalking him.  “But I do not know you.  Do I?”

Glancing around, Jason tried not to show how nervous this version of Dick was making him feel.  But he wanted to be able to protect himself if he needed to.  His guns had been left behind in the last world and now he only had his fists.

“Do I know you, Pet?”  

Jason shook his head, steeling himself.  “Not in this world.”  That caused Dick to pause at the last step, eyebrow raising in silent question. Jason swallowed.  This was so wrong.  Dick shouldn’t look like this.  Not just the awful clothes and throne, but the predatory look he had about him.  It wasn’t sitting right.  What the hell had happened to this Dick.  “I’m from a different universe.  One where you are not quite so…”

“Fabulous?”

Jason gave a snort.  “Not the word I was thinking of, no,” he shook his head.  But Dick just shrugged a shoulder and remained in his spot.  “You are the Orange Lantern.”

A slow, pleased, and proud smile spread across Dick’s face and Jason held back a shudder.  “I am. I was once the pet of Larfleeze until he got too comfortable, and I took what was mine from him.”  That explained the pet fixation Dick seemed to have.  Jason watched Dick descend the final step and wander over to one of the tables laden with sweets.  “I came back to Earth because it is mine.  I took it from its useless rulers and claimed it as my own.  The other worlds know that if they come here and try to steal what’s mine then they face certain death.”  Dick popped a truffle into his mouth, the air about him so casual about the mention of killing.  The Dick he knows would be appalled at the thought of killing anyone.  But a Dick influenced by greed and possessiveness fed by the Orange Lantern?  Maybe.

“Is there anyone alive on Earth?”  Jason asked, curious since he had yet to see another living body. Dick’s hand paused halfway to his mouth, another truffle in hand.  That was answer enough for Jason.

“There are a few resistance pods,” Dick offered, unconcerned.  “They are…annoying.”  Dick’s lip curled in disgust and Jason was actually surprised.  And curious.  He wondered who would be strong enough, smart enough to evade someone who basically had ghosts doing his bidding for him.  “But they are insignificant.”

And Jason felt sadness for Dick with that comment.  His Dick loved people, sacrificed himself daily for absolute strangers.  But this Dick?  This Dick seemed to have no love in him.  It made Jason’s chest ache.  It made him miss his Dick, the real one.  

“I am going to keep you,” Dick said after a few moments, turning a predatory gaze onto Jason that made him uncomfortable yet again.  There was just something so wrong with seeing that look on Dick’s face.  “What is your name, Pet-o-mine?”

Scrunching his nose at the nickname, Jason held back a shudder.  “Jason Todd.”

Dick hummed as he moved closer, looking almost as if he were gliding.  “I do not know a Jason Todd of this world, but you shall be mine now.  Let us feast.”

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

“Pet, did you say it was a Jinn who sent you here?”  Dick leaned forward in his chair and Jason felt as though his stare would burn right through his core.  It had been a handful of days since he had come to this world and while he was still struggling to get used to this version of Dick, he was feeling slightly more comfortable.

“I did,” he confirmed the comment he made only moments ago.

But apparently that wasn’t something Dick wanted to hear because he had abruptly stood from his chair and gripped the edge of the long table.  “Does your world not tell of Jinn lore?”  Jason frowned, unsure of why that would seem strange, but shrugged a shoulder all the same.  “This is not an alternative universe for you then.  This is a dream.”

Jason furrowed his brow, not sure he understood what Dick was telling him. Hadn’t Jinn told him this was an alternate universe?  But thinking back to that initial encounter, he wasn’t sure that was actually ever said.  “A dream?”

“Yes, My Pet.  A Jinn is known for feeding off the soul or “life-force” of their victims while providing them illusions of their most perfect reality,” Dick explained, eyes taking a slightly panicked edge to them.  “How many realities have you visited?”  His words sounded desperate as he pushed away from the table and hurried over to where Jason still sat.  “How many, Pet?!”

“This was my third wish.”  Dick stopped with a gasp.  But Jason had no idea why that was so concerning.  Why did it matter that he had made his three wishes?  Did something happen once the third wish took hold?  “Dick?”

“You need to find a way out of here.  You need…” Dick looked away and gazed off into the distance, seeing something Jason wasn’t sure about.  But despite that, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to find his way out of an illusion that was being forced upon him.  How could he fight something in his head?  “You have already spent too much time here with me, I do not know how much time you spent in the others.  You might not have much time left.”  Dick sounded concerned, lost, and determined all at once.  Jason had no idea how it was possible, but it was there.

“How am I supposed to get out of here?”

“Will your Dick be coming for you?  You’ll have already been missing for a few days.  Will he come for you?”  It was a good question, but it wasn’t one Jason had an answer for.  Would Dick?  After the fight where Dick told him he wished he had never come back from the dead?  But was that actually what Dick had meant?  Jason knew the man’s temper and looking at this version of Dick, he knew how possessive he could be.  Was Dick speaking from jealousy over Roy?  “Pet, will he come for you?”

“I don’t know,” Jason admitted.

But Dick got a familiar stubborn look on his face and shook his head.  “If he feels an ounce of the possessiveness I immediately felt, then he will come.  Is he strong?  Is he a fighter?  You are not normal, you know about the Lantern Corps.  Is he like you?”  Jason nodded, Dick was one of the strongest people he knew.  Not just physically.  

Jason opened his mouth to question Dick, to see if he had any idea how he could break the illusion from within, when the world went blurry around him and a familiar figure appeared in front of him.  “You have been naughty,” Jinn said, voice tense and eyes burning. Jason didn’t say anything in return, just raised his chin in defiance.  “I knew you were strong, I could feel your power on the other side of the planet.  I wish I had known someone had informed you of my lore before I put you under.  I would have kept a closer eye on your illusions.”

“So you lost.  Let me go.”

Jinn let their mouth fall open and the corners of their mouth tilt upward as they clicked their tongue.  “Did I?” And deep in his core Jason knew what was coming.  But despite lunging immediately, he couldn’t stop Jinn from snapping their fingers.

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

But when the world refocused around him, Jason noticed something was different.  The world wasn’t a mess and it also wasn’t moving.  He had landed in the middle of a living room he didn’t recognize.  The areas he could see were warm, welcoming and just to his taste.  If he had ever settled down, this would have been his décor of choice.  But more than that, Dick stood frozen in mid pour of a cup of coffee in the kitchen wearing just a pair of low slung sweatpants. Jason walked over to the man, looking him over.  

The orange glow he had gotten used to was gone and he looked healthier and less scarred than his memories allowed.  This was a Dick who hadn’t been a vigilante for more than half his lifetime. This was a Dick who probably worked a regular job, maybe at Wayne Industries, and came home to his family each day with a smile on his face.

“This can be yours.”  Jason spun and found Jinn leaning against the doorway leading to what looked like a nursery. He wanted to shove past them and get a closer look, but he resisted.  “I can give you this life if you just stop fighting me.”

“But it isn’t real and you’re killing me.”

Jinn scoffed and stepped further into the room.  “You put your life up for bargain every single night you go out as Red Hood.  This is no different.”

But it was different.  “I have no choice in this.  I have no chance of survival.  But out there,” Jason pointed toward the wall of windows allowing sunlight to reach every corner of the living area, “I have a chance.  I have a choice.”

“Don’t you want to know what it would be like to have him love you the way you so desperately love him?”  Jinn waved a hand and everything seemed to unfreeze.  Jason glanced over and saw Dick slipping the coffee pot back into the holder before turning to smile brightly at him.

“Is Thomas still sleeping?”  Dick asked as he came closer and pressed the warm coffee into Jason’s hand, pressing a kiss to his lips in the same moment.  Jason felt his heart stutter at the action, his eyes falling shut against his will.  He had been dreaming of kissing Dick Grayson since he was thirteen years old and here he was, doing just that.  When Dick finally pulled back, that beautiful smile on his face yet again, Jason looked past him to see Jinn watching with an amused smile on their face.

When Dick moved away to go check the nursery, Jason looked down at the cup of coffee and then back to Jinn.  The world went frozen again and Jason shook his head.  “This isn’t real.  It’s not him and this isn’t our life.”

“But it could be.  It would be as easy as falling asleep.”  But it wasn’t real, and Jason knew that now.  “Bastard,” Jinn muttered, seemingly distracted by something but Jason couldn’t figure out what.  Jinn’s attention slipped from Jason and the man took the moment to fully assess what was happening.  Jinn was desperate.  They were practically begging him to accept this reality which meant something had changed. Something more than his being aware of what was happening.  Because if it had just been him, Jinn could have focused solely on him.  And if their attention was split, that meant help had arrived.

Dick.

Jason didn’t know how he knew, but he did.  He knew deep in his core that Dick had come and now Jinn was having to face him.  And though Jason was still hurt by the words that Dick had said during their fight, the fact that he was there fighting to save him meant more than he could say. That he had come for him.  

“Give into me,” Jinn finally growled at him, eyes blazing gold and furious. “Give in and end this.  You won’t last much longer and will likely die before you even regain consciousness.  Just give in!”

But Jason just let the cup of coffee fall from his hands and a smirk to spread across his lips.  “No.”  Jinn gave a growl before snapping their fingers and plunging them both in darkness.

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

“I don’t know, Timmy.  Maybe he skipped town,” Dick muttered as he hopped off his motorcycle and looked up at the final safehouse the family knew about.  He hadn’t seen or heard from Jason in three days and none of the family or Roy had either.  And as much as Dick loved Roy, he did not want to have to sit through yet another lecture from Jason’s best friend.  The one he got earlier in the day was enough.  Dick knew he had fucked up, he knew it.  He knew he let his emotions beat out his logic and pettiness took hold.  He knew he was the one at fault.

But how could he be expected to be better, to make amends, if Jason was hiding from him?

“He wouldn’t have just checked out without telling anyone he was leaving. He didn’t even tell Roy.”  And yeah, Dick knew Tim had a point.  Roy had said he wouldn’t have told Dick where Jason was, but he would tell him that he was aware of the location.  But Jason hadn’t called Roy since the fight he had with Dick three nights ago.  “Just check the safehouse and then come back to the Cave.  We’ll regroup if he’s not there.”

Looking up to the fire escape stairs, Dick jumped and pulled himself up them quickly and efficiently.  “Yeah okay,” Dick responded into the comm as he pulled himself up to the roof.  He knew this particular safehouse had a few skylights he could enter through, one in particular was right above Jason’s bedroom space.  “Lights are on in one room,” he informed Tim as he stuck to the shadows and made his way to the skylight where he could see the light coming from.  He knew it was the one above Jason’s room and knew it likely meant the man was there.  Roy would have mentioned borrowing the safehouse when Dick mentioned searching them.

“Is he there?” Tim asked distractedly, the clicking of a keyboard in the background.  But Dick found himself frozen on the sight in front of him.

Jason was laid out on his bed, eyes closed and body relaxed as if in sleep. But his face was pale and drawn, almost sickly.  “Something’s wrong.”  Dick relayed, quickly feeling the edge of the skylight for the outside latch to open it. He had only used this particular one a few times, but he easily found the latch and unlocked it so he could drop gracefully beside Jason’s bed.

“What do you mean something is wrong?”

Glancing around, Dick kept quiet and listened for anyone else possibly in the safehouse.  But it was almost deathly silent, so Dick moved over to Jason’s side and leaned over him, feeling for a pulse.  “He’s still alive but he looks sick and is unresponsive,” Dick whispered, still not trusting that they were alone.  Jason had been the picture of health when they had separated the other night.  And the fact that Jason was still in his gear was another red flag.  Jason never came into this room in his gear because of the skylight.  

“Never know who’s watchin’, Dickie.”  He had said when Dick had asked him about it.

“Jay?”  Dick called softly, patting the man’s cheek.  But there was no response and Dick almost jerked back at the cold, clammy texture of his skin.

“I should have known,” a husky voice interrupted his examination of Jason and caused Dick to grab the gun that Dick knew Jason kept tucked between his mattress and headboard, whipping around to point it at whoever was there.  And though he didn’t recognize the individual before him, he definitely wasn’t going to let down his guard.  “Humans, so predictable.”

“Who are you?”

“Someone you do not wish to tango with, Birdie,” they said, half smirk and eyebrow raised.  

Dick narrowed his eyes, not sure how to approach this since he wasn’t in his gear.  He had come to Jason as a civilian.  So he had his fists and Jason’s gun.  But he had no protective gear.  He would be vulnerable in ways that could be dangerous.

“Dick who is there?” Tim sounded in his ear but Dick ignored him.  It wasn’t like he had an answer.

“Who are you?”  Dick demanded again, shifting to cover more of Jason’s body with his own.  If he was going to go down in this fight, he would protect Jason as best he could.  “What did you do to him?”

The person glanced at Jason behind him before shrugging a shoulder.  “I granted a wish.”

A wish?  Why the hell would Jason wish for this?  “A wish?”

“Wait, did they say wish?” Dick gave a grunt but didn’t say anything so not to alert whoever this was that he had help.  He could hear Tim’s typing speed up to an almost frantic pace. “Damian!  Get me that Hindu lore book!”  

The individual sauntered further into the room and leaned against the dresser Jason had shoved against the opposite wall from the bed.  “Yes, just a wish.  You threw our boy into quite the tizzy, Birdie.  Did you know what you were doing when you said those words?  Did you feel regret immediately or did you have to calm down first?”

“What do you know about it?”  Dick growled, hand tightening on the gun still pointed at the person.

“I was there when the fight happened.  I was there when he called his friend and vented about the cruelty of your words.”  Dick clenched his jaw.  For some reason this matter-of-fact analysis of the fight with Jason was worse than the lecture Roy had given him.  “I was there when he realized that you didn’t want him around.  When his hope…vanished.”

“Hope for what?”

They chuckled and shook their head, gaze amused.  “You.  Both of you. Together as you humans tend to do.”

“It’s a Jinn, Dick!” Glancing over his shoulder to look down at Jason, reconciling the image with what little he knew about Jinn lore, Dick tried to process quickly.  “You need iron, they’re susceptible to iron.  Damian and Bruce are on their way to you now.”  Iron.  Help was on the way.  

“He was so desperate to eliminate the pain you caused that he wished you out of his life.”  Dick suddenly felt cold, looking back to the Jinn.  “You’re surprised?  I bet you are the kind of person who thinks everyone loves them and will always forgive them, even when they make the most grievous of mistakes.  So self-important that you think you’re above consequences.”  But Dick didn’t think that, did he?  Did he think himself better than everyone else?  No, not usually.  Usually, he put his own well-being behind everyone else.  But he wasn’t so unaware that he didn’t know he could be cruel when he let his anger take hold.  And when that anger was backed by jealousy and the feeling of not being enough? Yeah, he could be nasty.  

But to the point where Jason would actually wish him away?

“I suppose the joke was on him though, he learned just how true the self-important spiel is when it comes to you.”  Dick didn’t even want to consider what they meant by that.  No.  He didn’t care if Jason woke and told him he never wanted to see Dick again.  All that mattered was making sure Jason was able to wake again.

So quickly he scanned the room for what could possibly be iron.  But there was nothing.  Then he remembered that Jason had a fireplace in this space and that meant iron tools to stroke the fire.  But how was he going to get to it when he was protecting Jason?

“Two minutes out.”

He had two minutes to figure something out.  But every idea meant leaving Jason vulnerable and he didn’t know if he could risk that.  Maybe if he pissed the Jinn off enough to focus on him he could make sure they left Jason alone.

“Have you figured it out yet?”  The Jinn asked, looking as cocky as they did when they appeared.

And Dick made a call he hoped he wouldn’t regret in the end.  Clicking off the safety, he pulled the trigger of Jason’s gun and shot a bullet to the Jinn’s shoulder before running out of the room in search of the iron.

“You are more trouble than you’re worth, Birdie,” they growled, appearing in front of Dick in a puff of blue smoke just as he closed his fingers around the fire poker that he was really hoping was actually iron.  “You think you can save him?  You think he wants you to save him?  You think you’re anything?!”

Good, get angry.  Focus on me, Dick thought as he swung the poker in a circle to test the weight and balance.  Tucking Jason’s gun in the back of his pants, Dick grabbed the shovel with the other had and crouched into a fighting stance.

“I think you’re worried I can do just that.”  It was more confident than Dick actually felt as the two of them circled each other, but he knew how to put on a show.  He knew how to play the part.  And that’s what he planned to do.  

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

Jason knew it was over before he even opened his eyes.  The fact that he had to open his eyes proved that fact. He had been with Agent Orange Dick the longest and never once had he slept.  Looking back, he could see the signs of it being a dream and not reality. But he had been in too deep with the illusion to notice on his own.  His mind had to help him along.

But the fact that he knew he had been asleep also meant that his rescue had been a success.  And that meant either Jinn was dead or contained.  And he was back to face his actual reality with the truth of what he had learned about the influence of Dick Grayson on not just his life, but the world.

“Jay?”  Speak of the devil.  Jason blinked his eyes slowly and stared up at the ceiling of what he immediately recognized as the medical bay in the cave.  He hated this place.  “Jay?” Dick called again, voice sounding concerned enough that Jason found the energy to turn his head toward the other man. “There you are,” Dick sighed, relief filtering over his features.

“Jinn?”

“Were you aware of what they did?”  Jason blinked, trying to clear the fog that was taking forever to dissipate from his mind. “Bruce took them to the Watchtower for the League to handle, if they survive.”  Furrowing his brows, he silently asked Dick what he meant.  “I got a little stab happy with your fire poker.”

Jason took a moment to process that.  Iron, right.  “You came.” And though Jason was still hurt by the words Dick had said, he felt bad at the look of guilt his own caused.

“I had been searching for you everywhere.  You just dropped off the map for three days and no one, not even Roy knew where you had gone,” Dick explained.  Three days was a long time for any of them to go without contact, so Jason could understand the need to look into it.  He couldn’t believe it was three days though, it had felt longer and shorter at the same time.  “I was just trying to apologize for what I said, but then I found you practically comatose and…”  Dick shrugged a shoulder, looking away.  

Jason took the moment to look the other man over.  He looked tired.  His hair was a mess, probably from running his hand through it constantly.  And his clothes were wrinkled as if he had been living in them for the past couple of days.

“Jay, I shouldn’t have said what I said.  I didn’t mean to make it seem like I wished you never came back.  That’s not true,” Dick said, looking back to Jason who was frozen at the look of regret.  “I am thankful every day that you came back.  And when I said that, I meant I wish you didn’t have to deal with all the side effects the Pit left behind.  Not that I didn’t want you back.”

Jason remained silent, furrowing his brows as he listened.  Trying to make sense of the words when his brain had been so sure Dick had meant he wished Jason had never come back at all.

“I’m bad at handling my anger.  And I’m worse at holding back when I’m jealous.”

“Jealous?  What do you have to be jealous of?”

Dick looked away again, a splash of pink dusting his cheeks.  And Jason was sure his brains had to have been really scrambled for all of this to be happening.

“I was,” he paused, shaking his head but still refusing to look back to Jason. “I am,” he corrected, “jealous of your friendship with Roy.”

Of Roy.  Dick was jealous of Roy.  What?  “What?”  Jason stupidly asked and Dick shrugged a shoulder, ducking his head and glancing at Jason.  If he wasn’t so confused, he’d find it endearing.

“You need Roy.”  Jason nodded dumbly, still confused.  “When we were arguing, you stopped to call him so he could talk you down when all I could do was push you to that point.”  And the pieces were finally starting to click into place.  A little at least.  “You don’t need me.  Even though we’re…I don’t know, what are we?  Friends?  Partners? More?”  The question was there in his eyes and Jason knew that the doubts he had about what Dick’s true feelings were unfounded.  “I was jealous that you need him but not me.  I’ve been jealous about that for a while.  And it makes me question whether or not I’m good enough to be anything to you when you need someone else more than you need me.”

“Dick,” Jason reached out and grabbed the other man’s hand that was resting on the edge of his bed.  “Just because I need Roy more right now doesn’t mean I won’t need you more in the future.” Watching Dick lift his head to look at him more directly, he recognized the confusion in his eyes.  “But I can’t do a fight like that again, Dick.  I can’t.  I-” Dick’s hand quickly covered his mouth and stopped him from saying anything more.

“Roy gave me quite the lecture and eye-opening speech.  I know.  I fucked up royally and it played you in every way I knew it would.  It was…manipulative and cruel.”  And yeah, Jason couldn’t argue with that.  Dick looked contrite and thoroughly chastised.  He’d have to ask Roy exactly what he said to the man. “I’m sorry.  I am.  And I’m not asking you to forgive me, but I’d like to be able to prove that I won’t do it again.”

Jason considered what Dick was saying, unsure of whether or not he should offer the forgiveness Dick said he wasn’t asking for or not.  He didn’t want to let Dick off the hook, but he also knew when the man was telling the truth.  And after seeing exactly how his life could have been without Dick’s influence, Jason didn’t want to know what would happen if he let Dick slip away now.

“Okay,” was what came out instead of the elaborate thoughts.

“Really?”

Jason nodded and squeezed the hand still holding onto Dick’s.  “Those dreams showed me some pretty hard truths about life without you and I don’t want to see what this life would be like without you.” Dick looked stunned, like he wasn’t expecting Jason to admit to what it was he had seen inside the dreams.  “I’m still upset and it’s going to take a while for me to get over it, but life is much better with you in it.  For everyone.”

Dick looked slightly awed at the comment, but then hesitant.  And Jason knew exactly what Dick was going to say next. “What exactly did you wish for, Jay?”

Jason hesitated for a moment because he wasn’t sure Dick needed to know the depths of how hurt he was.  That he had been at the point he would actually wish Dick out of the world.  Out of his world.  Because Jason knew that once his anger had calmed a bit, if Jinn had offered a little later, he never would have made that wish.  He would have probably wished for that last ditch effort illusion.  He would have wished to be happy.  To know what it was like to be happy with Dick.

“Jay?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Jason looked at Dick’s curious face and sighed. “The wrong thing, but if I hadn’t then I probably wouldn’t have figured out what was happening.  You were the Orange Lantern in the final wish, obsessed with taking everything for yourself,” Jason offered instead of telling of the first two.  “You were so obsessed with me that when I mentioned a Jinn had sent me there, you told me what a Jinn does.  You were consumed with the thought of me dying on you that you told me I needed to get out of there.”

“I wonder why your illusion told you to fight back if it was there because of the Jinn.”

“Because the Jinn only created the illusion, it was still Jason’s mind controlling it,” a voice interrupted.  Jason looked past Dick to see Bruce standing in the doorway.  He didn’t want to admit how good it was to see him in this state. He would probably never forget the look of the man in the jail cell.  “And when Dick showed up as a distraction, the hold the Jinn had loosened and your mind could actively fight back.  But I am curious, how did you know about the lore?  If you hadn’t, you never would have been able to succeed.”

Jason shrugged but then remembered a few months ago when he had been with Damian in the library.  “Damian,” he said, trying to remember exactly what had happened.  “He showed me a Hindu lore book he had found and mentioned the Jinn.” Jason looked at Dick who was smiling, most likely proud that his favorite brother had a direct influence on Jason’s survival.  “Let’s not tell him.  He’s got enough of an ego as it is.”

Dick laughed and they both looked over at Bruce who looked…almost pleased. “I am glad we got to you in time, Jason. Alfred will be down shortly to check you over and give you all clear.”  Jason nodded, mind still reconciling this image with the one from the illusion. Bruce gave Dick a nod before silently leaving the two of them alone.

“I understand why he never kills now,” Jason spoke, still looking at the spot Bruce had been standing.  Dick remained silent and Jason knew he was waiting for Jason to elaborate or change the subject since it had still been an issue up until then.  “In the world where I wished I had never met Batman, you had died.” He looked over at Dick with a heavy sadness, remembering how much it had hurt to learn that Dick had died at the hands of the Joker.  “And he killed the Joker because of it, out of anger or depression maybe.  I’m not sure.  But he turned himself into the police and the man he became…”  Jason shook his head and took a deep breath.  “He wasn’t Bruce anymore.  His life had bled out of him and he was a shell.”

“He has his walls he’s built around himself, but he’s still just a man,” Dick said, and Jason nodded.  He saw that now.  Bruce wasn’t this infallible person they all seemed to think he was because that was what they wanted him to think.  

“Hey Dick?”  Jason prompted, needing to lighten the mood in the room.

“Yeah Jay?”

“Don’t ever invest in an orange velvet pimp suit okay?  You were like fucking Smaug and I will never be able to scrub those images from my mind.”  Dick’s jaw dropped and Jason let out a laugh.