#Jason: also don’t worry about the bloodstains | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miracle-sham · 3 years

Text

Die Like the Butterfly Shoot With Their Guns.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 2, Day 7: Guns} |

Chapter 1 of Sheltered by Darkness not yet Moths to the Flame.

———

| Sometimes a family can be a gang comprised of eleven vigilantes, and their AI robot, fighting against the father of one of their own. |

| Or alternatively: after falling through the cracks, they do what they must to survive. And if that means committing crimes in order to bring down the Big Butterfly and all the other corrupt businesses in the city, then so be it. |

———

| Tonight's the night. Half of them will strike one of the Big Butterfly's warehouses that just so happens to contain some fancy new gun tech. Besides, it'll be in better hands with them than the Big Butterfly or his associates. Now all that matters, is that nothing goes wrong! |

| Word Count: 3,322. |

| Warnings/Tags: Cyberpunk/Criminal/Gang Au, Explicit Language/Swearing, Hacking, Breaking and Entering, Theft, Mentions of Bombs and Guns, Mentions of corrupt/shady businesses, Fluff, Gang/Team as family/family dynamics, Found Family. |

———

| A/N: It is Cyberpunk Au time! This is a twoshot, so have a looksy to see if you can find all the snippets of foreshadowing I've set! Also this is mostly Action/Fluff but beware of the warnings regardless. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

Rain patters against the concrete, sound mixing with the low hum and high buzz of electricity. The ground is slick with murky puddles that never seem to clean the pavement. Still just as filthy as before, permanently dyed with dried bloodstains, mud stains, electric scorch marks, and far worse. The air is heavy with the smell of cigarette smoke, ozone, and that ever underlying decay that clings to the city.

It's dark—dead of night—but the streets are awash with flickering neon lights. There are a few others haunting the street though most of them are sticking to the areas of light, avoiding the shadows.

Which is where Marinette, also known as the ruthless gang leader Fantôminou, is lurking.

Jason—Red Hood, her co-leader—snarls as he drops down onto the shadowed fire escape beside her. “We've got a rat. Someone's tipped off the big Butterfly and security has been increased around the perimeter. Most likely interior security increased too.”

Fantôminou flexes her glowing clawed gauntlets, “I suppose we should check in with our local pied piper, before we strike, hmm?”

There's a bzzt in her earpiece as the channel is hijacked by the familiar voice of their gang's hacker, Max aka Raijack. “I wouldn't worry about that if I were you, our pied piper has already been contacted. Whoever they were, they didn't reveal which location we were targeting, so it's just a general security increase.”

She hums. “Raijack, link us up with the rest of the strike force.”

“Got it, 'Minou.” He responds, and not a split second later, the earpiece makes another bzzt and there's the faint ping of the rest of the channel being alerted at someone joining.

“Look, I think you could totally pull off the—oh, who just joined the channel?” Adrien, Cheval Mallet, asks in surprise.

“Just me and our anthill tiger.” Red Hood announces, snorting at the glare Fantôminou sends him.

Silence echoes across the line before a scrabble of hushed but excited voices causes a ruckus.

Fantôminou sighs, “I know we're all excited to hit the big Butterfly hard by stealing some of their new fancy gun tech. But let's leave the yelling for when we inevitably set off the alarms!”

“Hey!” Raijack protests. “I'll have you know I have produced a new virus that has a ninety-eight per cent chance of not setting off any alarms!”

Red Hood rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, but you've still not worked out how to get your viruses to deactivate the bombs in the crates yet, huh?”

“I will one day, until then it's your job to stop the bombs from triggering the rest of the alarms!” Raijack counters with a huff.

Fantôminou sighs again, this time with an added sprinkling of are-you-kidding-me. “Red Hood, Raijack. I can and will kick your asses if you do not shut up so we can discuss final prep before we begin the pesticide protocol.”

Bumping shoulders with her, Red Hood snorts again. “I've got nothing against being beat up by someone as pretty and buff as you Minou, you know that!”

“Oh, I think we can all agree to wanting to get crushed by Minou's guns.” Cheval Mallet pipes up once more.

Fantôminou sighs very wearily. “Nevermind, are you all ready?”

Red Hood salutes at her, and despite his mouth being covered, it's easily telling that he's grinning cockily underneath. “I'm ready. My guns are ready, and I've got the bomb defusal kit at the ready.”

“I may be holding my horses but I'm saddled to giddy-up on the go!” Cheval Mallet cheerfully announces.

“This has to be one of your worst attempts at horse puns yet.” Raijack comments, “otherwise, I'm in position and ready to hack on your call, Minou.”

Red Hood exchanges a glance with Fantôminou as silence falls over the earpiece channel. “Hold up, where's Arsenal? Shouldn't he have checked in by now?”

Taking his hand gently, Fantôminou gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“He already did but because you two had your issues getting into position and avoiding the unexpected police patrol, Arsenal had to deal with another issue that popped up which would've threatened our plan,” Raijack informs, sounding nonplussed.

“Well, you don't sound concerned.” Fantôminou points out the obvious. “Has he got back up?”

There's the faint tapping of a keyboard through the earpiece channel before Raijack responds, “Chèvrapide is on her way to back him up, don't worry.”

“Then that's everyone accounted for. Let's rock and roll.” Red Hood orders, dropping from the fire escape and landing in the rain-slick alleyway with ease, conveniently right beside the hoverbike they had stashed here.

Fantôminou hops down after him, except she manages to flip and expertly land in the driver's seat. “I'm driving Jay, you're the one with the guns after all,” she all but states, putting one gauntleted hand up and flexing just to hammer in the point, “I'm close range only right now and you know it.”

Red Hood throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey! I'd never complain about getting to watch you drive this beauty of a hoverbike.”

Fantôminou snorts. “Just get on, pretty bird!”

“Well, if you say so, pretty kitty!” Red Hood teases back, vaulting onto the back of the bike behind her. He wraps an arm around her waist and rests the other hand on his sheathed-for-now gun.

She revs the engine of the hoverbike and steers out of the alleyway with practised ease. There's no directions on the hoverbike's holoscreen, but it's not like they need any—the directions to where they need to be outside the warehouse have already been memorised by each and every one of them.”

Down the left street, take the right at the T junction, pass under the flyover street, then take a further two lefts and then straight on until the block of office buildings forming a protective extra layer between the warehouse electric razor wire tipped fencing and the road. Easy.

“All networks in the office buildings have temporarily shut down. As far as the tech will be concerned, it'll look like the networks just decided to not work today.” Raijack announces through the earpiece channel, voice coming through slightly more robotic than usual.

“So no security cams?” Fantôminou checks cautiously, circling like a hawk around the small stretch of street between her and the office building she and Jason will be entering through. The rain has slowed to a drizzle but that doesn't make the circling in it any less mildly uncomfortable, at least inside it'll be dry.

There's the familiar clack of keys once more. “Not quite, they're a little harder to crack than entering in through the backdoor via someone's unprotected webcam in the office. Thank you, Shodan.” Raijack pauses, keys continuing to clack in the background. “Unfortunately, the Big Butterfly's got tech security smart enough to keep the security system on a closed network so I can't hop from webcam to computer to network to cams. However, they didn't account for Markov, suckers!”

Red Hood snorts. “Isn't Markov a little obvious for this kinda mission?”

“Oh, did I forget to tell you?” Raijack says, in a voice that very clearly conveys he didn't forget so much as purposefully neglected to mention, “I recently upgraded Markov, outfitting him with the currently most highly advanced cloaking system. Thanks to some help from Fantôminou's knowledge of cloaking and camouflage fashion.”

Red Hood leans his head onto Fantôminou's shoulder. “I'm hurt, you knew and didn't tell me? I want cloaking guns! Think of how much cooler I'd look with them!”

Fantôminou merely hums in an unamused response. “Raijack wanted it to be a surprise.”

He huffs. “I see who your favourite person in our gang is then!”

“You're right! It's me!” Cheval Mallet cheers, jumping into the conversation.

“Fucking 'ell!” Red Hood curses under his breath. “I thought you were gonna mute whilst getting in position.”

Cheval Mallet's laugh cuts in and out across the earpiece channel. “And when did I hay that!”

“Hacker voice, I'm in!” Raijack interrupts. “Looks like the security system was perfectly untouched by whatever minor error caused the main networks to crash, how lucky. Which is to say, looping is in process, and we now have free entry.”

“Got us a place to park yet, though?” Red Hood asks.

Raijack doesn't immediately respond, but the sound of the garage door connected to the office building opening, is answer enough. “I might.”

Fantôminou snorts. “Thanks, Raijack. Hood and I need to split here right, just until we get past the fencing right?”

“That's right.” Raijack responds, “good luck, and Markov and I will see you all on the other side.”

“Break a leg, or three!” Red Hood calls over the earpiece. “Preferably some else's though!”

Fantôminou pulls the hoverbike into the garage, keeping her gaze ahead. “If I could elbow you without fucking up my parking, I would.”

Red Hood cackles quietly in response, trying to at least keep to the stealth part of the mission plan.

In the blink of an eye, the hoverbike is securely parked. Perfectly hidden in plain sight but easily accessible for a quick and clean getaway should nothing go wrong. And well, if something were to go wrong, there's not going to be any hoverbike left for evidence. Though, that's not to say a small part of Fantôminou's brain doesn't anxiously hate how they're practically sitting on top of bombs ready to blow up at the slightest hint of things going wrong. However, they've been through enough strikes like this for the concern to be mostly easily ignored.

———

With the hoverbike parked, Fantôminou and Red Hood part ways.

Fantôminou heads up through the internal stairwell connected to the garage, whilst Red Hood takes one of the external doors leading to the office building next door.

The stairwell is like any other maintenance stairwell. Grey concrete walls, metal railings and steps. Even Fantôminou's light footsteps clang loudly against the ridged metal stairs. It's cold, just as cold as the garage was and barely warmer than it is outside in the rain. The air is stuffy but at least the respirator hidden beneath the bandana wrapped around her mouth makes it bearable to breathe. Other than the aforementioned clanging of steps, and her breathing, Fantôminou is alone with the ominous silence of a liminal space.

The stairs stretch on upwards for what seems far longer than it should, but eventually, Fantôminou reaches the final steps to the roof entrance door.

The door is unlocked, and so Fantôminou opens it as quietly as possible. She walks out into the rain once more and scrunches up her nose. A quick glance of the roof yields no immediate signs of danger or anything of note, so she continues to the edge of the roof.

Fantôminou rests one foot on the lip of the roof and flexes her gauntlets, lights switching off for stealth. Carefully, she turns around and crouches on the lip, gauntlets gripping the edge and toes of her boots braced against the wall. Bit by bit she descends, gauntlets making it more than easy to stay attached to the wall.

Two-thirds of the way down, Fantôminou climbs onto a window sill. The fence is only a metre below, with a further four-metre drop. No security drones in sight, yet—but no alarms have been triggered yet either.

A shadow drops down the building and over the fence on the other side of the compound. Not a second later is the double buzz of the earpiece signalling that someone is in position.

Fantôminou smirks beneath her face coverings, not one to be so quickly outdone she leaps forwards in a dive—spinning midair as she begins to plummet. Clearing the razor wire fence with room to spare.

She hits the ground in another diving roll, and immediately uses the momentum to throw herself up and run towards the nearest warehouse building. As soon as she reaches the wall, she double-taps her earpiece to send the double buzz signal to others.

A moment later comes the third double buzz, soon followed by the fourth and final signal.

“Markov is covering our air support.” Raijack's voice clips across the earpiece channel, “Fantôminou, you and Red Hood are on opposite ends of the same warehouse. I've unlocked the doors for you. You know the drill.”

“Thank you, Raijack. Entering now.” Fantôminou responds, she slinks over to the warehouse doors and cautiously pries open the now unlocked door.

Fantôminou heads straight for the terminal, and knows Red Hood is doing the same. Slipping Raijack's new and improved virus into one of the terminal's ports. Seconds pass.

“Interface secured,” Raijack informs.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Red Hood prowling over to her. She nods to him and taps into the terminal with her gauntlet.

Red Hood readies his bomb defusal kit as she instructs the internal warehouse drones into delivering the goods to them.

The drone, blinking yellow—a sure sign of Raijack's virus in effect—hovers over and drops a large black cased crate before them.

As soon as the claws of the drone release the crate, Red Hood is immediately on it, pulling it open and weeding out the bomb.

They wait with bated breath. Red Hood tinkers away. The earpiece channel is silent as the team focuses.

He hisses through his teeth, and Fantôminou tenses—ready to grab him and run, in the worst case—but he only packs the kit back away and sighs in relief.

He taps the earpiece thrice—signalling success.

Raijack and Cheval Mallet don't respond, so Fantôminou and Red Hood stuff their haul into Fantôminou's Miraculous, for ease of transport, and begin making their way towards the warehouse the other two were hitting.

By the time they reach the nearest warehouse doors, the earpiece triple buzzes. Success, again.

They pause only to exchange a nod between the two before continuing to meet up with Cheval Mallet and Raijack—no rendezvous needed this time so far.

It takes forty seconds to cross halfway to the other warehouse, where they meet the other two along with Markov in the middle.

Cheval Mallet waves a hand and the five of them skulk over to a small shed off the side of another warehouse. He raises his horseshoe weapon and calls out, “Bon Voyage!”

The portal forms and Markov flies through first. The remaining four exchange glances then bolt forwards, racing to see who can get through first.

The blue light blinds them all for a second, despite how used to the power they are.

“Mission success!” Fantôminou cheers breathlessly once the blue fades, throwing her hands up in celebration.

“WOOH!” Cheval Mallet yells, jumping up and punching the air.

Red Hood snorts, “but more importantly I so won!”

Raijack hums, “let's see what Markov has to say about that.”

Markov makes a series of boops and beeps, yellow LEDs flickering. “Red Hood is correct, he won the portal race.”

“YES!” Red Hood crows.

“Oh come on!” Raijack grumbles.

Footsteps and clapping approaches. “Well done,” Félix praises, “but perhaps leave the celebration until after you've all gotten into jammies.”

Cheval Mallet giggles, “Flicks, I can't believe you can somehow still sound pretentious whilst saying something as childish sounding as "jammies"!”

Félix raises an eyebrow, “you say this every time I call pyjamas that. Now come on, I've ordered pizza and Roy, Alix, Luka, Artemis, Kori, and Bizarro are already waiting for you lot, in the lounge, so we can get the party started.” He turns on his heel and walks out of the utility-changing room.

Markov, as the only one not needing to change, shows the tongue-sticking-out emoji on his LED screen and zooms after Félix.

Jason, Marinette, Adrien, and Max all start changing out of their gear as quickly as possible.

“Oh no!” Adrien gasps, half undressed, suddenly remembering something. “We forgot to take the motorbikes back!”

Marinette groans, “I knew I was forgetting something!"

Facepalming, Jason sighs. “We were all too caught up in everything going well for once.”

Max snorts. “Oh don't worry! I anticipated this, all it took was a little hacking into our hoverbikes and now they're on autopilot to one of our empty storage bases.”

“Oh. Well, that's good then.” Adrien says, looking a little embarrassed.

“Yeah… anyway come on, we don't want to keep your cousin and the others waiting any longer! They'll eat all the pizza!” Marinette exclaims.

They all finish changing into loungewear and pyjamas just as music starts to play from the lounge and so frantically, they all dash towards it, trying to shove each other out of the way and laughing playfully as they do so.

They've won a battle, they've successfully gotten in and out with a good haul of gun tech. No alarms tripped, nothing went wrong. Hoverbikes undamaged and on the route home. For once, everything went smoothly. And that, is cause for an evening of celebration.

Leaving the worries of the rat for tomorrow.

———

In a dark observatory with a closed butterfly window, a folder is tossed across a desk.

Papillon glances down at the folder with indifference. He rests his elbows on the expensive polished wood and steeples his fingers. “You said you had acquired information that you believe will interest me?”

The man in a black suit sitting opposite Papillon, smiles patiently. “My informant went through quite the lengths to acquire this. Why not take a look inside.”

Papillon purses his lips, “this better not be a waste of my precious time, Lex.”

Lex Luthor raises an eyebrow in amusement. “I assure you, Gabriel, you will find what is inside most interesting.”

There's a moment's pause as Gabriel waits. Nothing happens. He nods and then opens the folder. He spreads the papers inside in arc across the desk. In the middle of the papers, is the photo of a smiling teenage girl with bright blue eyes, and blue-dyed hair. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” He reads out, lips curling into a contemplative frown.

“Poor little girl,” Lex croons mockingly, “missing—presumed dead—after her parents' bakery was destroyed in an Akuma attack. Her name should be familiar to you though, won your one-day derby hat competition at her school.”

Gabriel's fingers still mid-steeple, and he moves one hand up to his chin in thought. “Ah yes, I remember that designer. The one with the feather derby whose design was stolen and copied. That signature embroidery was impressive work.” He recounts.

Lex grins, “yes, however most distressingly, it would seem this up and coming star of a designer has lost her glow.”

“How so?” Gabriel responds, furrowing his brows.

“Well you see, my informant has found… evidence, that our poor little designer here fell through the cracks into the shadows after the loss of her parents and bakery. It's rather obvious that the larvae have taken her as their own, some of their masks and clothes fit perfectly with what we know of her unique incorporation of her signature, as well as stitch work.” Lex explains, waving a hand towards the rest of the photographs and documents spread from the folder.

Gabriel frowns and eyes a few of the other papers with interest. “I see, that is most unfortunate.”

“But.” Lex cuts in before Gabriel can say anything more. “I'm well aware you're plenty familiar with fixing larvae with damaged wings and frayed wires. As such, a strange little cold case brimming with potential for your program, would do quite nicely for your collection, wouldn't you say?” Lex insinuates, rising from his seat as he continues, “rescue the poor larvae, craft it a chrysalis, and nurture the Pupa into something radiant. Not unlike what you did with the Macrothylacia Rubi, and your replacement wife.” With that, Lex smiles smugly down at Gabriel and then strides out of the observatory, not giving Gabriel a chance to respond.

And leaving Papillon to the folder and his musings.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Behind the Names: Fantôminou is a portmanteau of Fantôme (Ghost/Phantom) and Minou (Kitty). And she's called that because I thought the Black Footed cat fit her, and they're nicknamed Anthill Tigers. They also have the highest successful hunting rate! |

| Raijack is a portmanteau of Raiju (lightning dragon) and jack plug (the connect-y bit on headphones into a phone for example) but is also a play on the word Hijack. |

| Cheval Mallet is an evil horse spirit that offers rides to weary travellers and kidnaps them. Yes, there is a reason behind this. It's covered in Chap 2 |

| Chèvrapide is a portmanteau of Chèvre (Goat) and Rapide (Fast). |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I’ll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

20 notes · View notes

fanfics-only-for-me · 4 years

Text

Call of the Void (Part 2)

Word Count: 3208

How are the Titans going to handle the reluctant new stray Dick picked up and what exactly is she running from?

Rose doesn't exist and Jeremiah is dead. Everything in the show is the same up to when they find Rose on the telly. Imma just swap her with y/n cause I'm a narcissist. Y/N is 18 nearly 19. Don't @ me cause i know this is hella shite. Readers bi but I’m not certain if she’s gonna be romantically involved with anyone yet.

Discovery

Leaving the training area, Dick walked down the corridor towards the tech room. He might have quelled Jason's rampant mind but his own was still trying to make sense of what he saw that morning. It was a puzzle missing half the pieces, he had an idea of the picture: he knew someone was injured and he knew where they were at some point during the night, but how they were injured and where they went next was still a mystery.

Dick entered the room, not bothering to close the door behind him and, using Bruce's definitely illegal system, found three different CCTV camera's from last night all capturing the stained spot on the pavement giving him multiple views of the scene. Dick began watching the drunken night-life of San Francisco expecting to see perhaps a small fight between some drunks before a taxi was called to take them away to a nearby hospital. It was the most plausible explanation.

As Dick was watching the footage, Rachel and Gar came into the room.

"Is this about whatever was by the car earlier?" asked Rachel looking up at the footage.

"What?" Gar asked Rachel confused, "What was by the car?"

"Blood." Dick answered not once breaking his focus from the monitors.

"Blood?" asked a confused Gar, "What happened? Who's blood?"

"I don't know yet." replied Dick furrowing his brow as he watched the crowds of people thinning.

The time stamp on the footage read 03:47:04, due to California's 2 am 'last call' law, only a few stragglers were still out as they waited for Taxis or swayed themselves home on foot. The untouched pavement was beginning to bother Dick, a feeling like when a horror movie goes silent before a cheap jumpscare leaving the audience aware of an imminent fright but the specifics of said 'fright' remain unknown. He was waiting for the scare and every second the silence extended pushed him further to the edge of his seat.

"A bit of blood on a street doesn't really concern us," Jason commented as he sluggishly moved into the now crowded room cradling a bowl of cinnamon puffs to his chest.

"I never said it did, Jason." Dick replied, looking at him over his shoulder, "I'm only satisfying my own curiosity."

"Uh guys," Gar interrupted, gesturing towards the screen.

Turning back towards the monitors' Dick saw the figure on the ground, right where the stain was due to appear. The time was stamped at 04:07:08. By this time the streets were emptied leaving the slouched figure undisturbed.

"They just appeared." chimed Rachel.

"What do you mean?" Dick asked staring at the figure.

The cameras weren't the best, extremely glitchy and unfocused not to mention the person's head was facing away from all three cameras. Despite this, Dick could clearly tell this person was in pain; if them on their hands and knees weren't enough, tomorrows bloodstain would be.

"Like, out of thin air." Gar explained a bit too excitedly, "One second nothing then poof! Someones there."

"Shit, really?" Jason asked eagerly, everything's been stagnant since he got to the tower and if what Gar said was true, something interesting is finally happening and he'd be damned if he wasn't involved.

Dick, was watching the figure as though they'd vanish if he lost concentration, the talking of the kids became white noise as more questions plagued his mind. He only checked the CCTV to fill in some missing pieces to the puzzle he gave himself, albeit he did get some new pieces; he found out the puzzle was much bigger than initially thought. He was looking over the footage for anything that may give him a few more pieces. Their clothes looked comfortable, although a bit too cold to wear outside. A pair of white shorts with a loose t-shirt, untamed hair, and no shoes. It wasn't the absence of footwear that raised the red flags in Dick's mind, but the blood coating them which he mistook for socks at first glance.

It took about 20 seconds for the figure to move from their curled position. They reached backwards with one hand as the other stayed planted in front of them, hand sliding in the small puddle near their feet as they pattered around in search of something before hitting and grasping the pole in an attempt to steady and lift themself up into a more kneeled position. They looked around themself frantically for a while reminding Dick of a meerkat searching for predators. As they leant on the pole, they finally faced one of the cameras briefly, barely a second but Dick caught it. Dick had seen that same look on so many others; she was running from someone, a one-track mind to get away, but from what? Despite the grainy quality, Dick guessed they had to be around Jason's age. His mind was immediately drawn back to Rachel when they first met, back when he tried to distance himself from helping thus invertedly leaving her defenceless to those chasing her. Maybe it's due to his hero complex, but he really couldn't resist a stray, especially a scared one.

"What the fuck's wrong with her legs?" Jason blurted out, finally getting a better look at the feet.

Rachel, Gar, and Jason were now standing right by Dick at the computers all waiting to see what the injured stranger would do next. About a minute after she appeared, she stopped looking around, another few seconds and she disappeared. No smoke, no magical sparks: just gone. It was silent for a bit in the room as they all tried to process what they just witnessed. Dick began checking the other cameras in the area to see if he could find her again. The screens were filled with multiple different views of the general area, a few minutes of silence and searching eyes and Rachel finally spotted her.

"There!" she shouted pointing to a screen showing a figure half lying on a dumpster barely holding themself up, the camera only just catching her half down an alleyway nearly 20 meters from the initial appearance spot. The girl followed the same pattern of behaviour as before: a mini rest before looking around and disappearing once again.

Dick was determined to find out where they turned up so as soon as she disappeared he brought up more CCTV footage. This time around he didn't find her as easily, and it took him close to an hour to find her again. Although it was an hour for him, only a few minutes past in the footage. She was obviously trying to avoid the cameras and Dick had to rely on her slip-ups to catch her. The girl was moving sporadically and would often cross her own path, he wasn't sure if it was a tactic to lose whoever she was running from or if she really had no idea where she was going. While Dick stayed in the room searching the cities cameras, the younger three, with admittedly much shorter attention spans, would cycle in and out of the place, at one point Dick ordered them to go back to training. By the time the footage was nearing 6 am, Dick had spent the entire day in front of the computers and, to his relief, it seemed to of paid off.

The last sighting of her was near the pier close to the warehouses and if he was lucky she'd still be in one of them. Judging by her clear exhaustion, it was plausible she hadn't moved yet. Checking the time on his watch, Dick noted that the sun had long since set as it neared 10 pm. He'd spent over 12 hours searching, he'd be damned to allow his efforts to result in nothing. Dick swiftly left the room and headed to the exit passing the team in the living area as he did so.

"I'll be back." he told the three as the elevator doors closed behind him.

"Guess he found her then" muttered Gar staring at the closed door.

"Guess so" replied Rachel.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Once Dick got to the pier he realised just how hard it would be to find her. There had to be hundreds of different hiding spots in multiple different buildings, the search could take all night. Thankfully the workers had gone home by this point but it wasn't them he was really worried about but whoever she was running from. He did a survey of the area before entering any of the buildings, checking if she was hiding outside or if someone else was here also. Satisfied that no one was outside, Dick pulled his hood up to avoid any cameras and entered the first building that night.

He checked every nook and cranny of the first few buildings looking for any blood or even a body, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure he was still alone. The fourth warehouse was where he struck gold. He found a few more drops of blood, a lot less than at the coffee shop but blood none-the-less. Natural he thought she might of disappeared again but after the neighbouring buildings proved fruitless, he returned. There were no upper or lower floors and he already upturned everything inside yet this was his only lead. The roof had poles and infrastructure to hold it up but nothing big enough to hide a person and everything else inside was either too small or locked tight.

Heat signatures. He should've checked for heat signatures. He couldn't access it from the warehouse and he definitely wasn't going to head back to the tower to use it so he grabbed his phone and began dialling Gar. Once he picked up, Dick got him to check for any heat signatures near him, he'd been teaching the group on how to use the system in case of situations like this thus it only took Gar a few minutes before Dick got the picture of the warehouse. There was someone in here with him.

Dick walked towards the other person, double-checking the image before he stood still. In front of him were sealed storage containers. He already searched this area and found nothing, the locks on the storage containers were old and rusted shut, definitely not used this year let alone this morning, and yet the orange dot said otherwise. Then again, it would make sense if she could teleport through it. Dick looked around searching for something to help get it open, finding nothing he realised he had to rely on his strength alone. A few harsh kicks to the lock and he got it open. Grabbing the handles of the container, Dick wrenched the doors open filling the warehouse with a metallic screech. He found her.

As Dick looked at her curled figure a wave of worry overcame him, what if he was too late? Stepping into the container and kneeling next to her figure, he searched for a pulse. Only after finding one, albeit weak, did he take a moment to look at her: y/h/c hair, y/s/c skin, and bar her feet, healthy-looking. The CCTV gave him an idea of her injury but looking at her now, he realised how serious it was. She was leaving small puddles of blood all over the city and the fact she hadn't passed out sooner was a miracle. The bottom of her t-shirt was ripped and wrapped around both her feet standing in for a bandage, it was tight enough to stop the bleeding. The once light grey shirt was now died a deep red, slighting brown at places due it drying. If she hadn't done this before passing out, there was no doubt she'd be dead now. The body can only take so much blood loss before permanently shutting down, she wasn't dead but she was close to it. He scooped her up as carefully as he could and slowly made his way out of the building.

The strange girl lay limp in Dick's arms, undisturbed as she was slightly swayed with his every step. Reaching his car, Dick slowly lowered her to lie down in the back not dissimilar to a parent lowering their sleeping child into their bed. As he straightened up, he took one last look at her before rolling up his jacket and propping it under her calves in order to take the pressure off her feet. Sliding into the drivers' side, he glanced once more at her still face in the rearview mirror and turned on the engine.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Once Dick arrived at the Tower he delicately picked the girl up and headed inside. Gar was pacing back and forth near the elevator door when Dick stepped out cradling the unconscious stranger.

"Dick!," he shouted once he noticed him enter, "You found her, what- wait is she okay?"

"Hopefully," Dick replied stepping past him and towards the med bay, "Grab my jacket, I left it in the car."

"Going," Gar said before disappearing inside the elevator.

Once he made it to the med bay, he placed her stomach down onto one of the beds, tilting her head to the side, and began rooting through the cupboards and drawers. He took out some antiseptic and bandages and placed them near the bed. Quickly washing and drying his hands, Dick pulled a chair next to the foot of the bed and began carefully unwrapping the dirty cloth filling the room with the strong scent of iron. Once he removed the fabric from her left foot he took note of the deep, yet disturbingly precise slice along the back of her heel, taking some antiseptic, he began cleaning the wound. Dick could see deep into her foot, and what caught his attention was the pale tendon cut clean in half and her still intact artery. Whoever did this had medical training. As he was finishing bandaging up the first wound, Gar came in with Dick's Jacket.

"Put it on the counter," Dick told him before Gar could say anything, "And go grab two black foot braces from the closet behind you."

As he finished wrapping up her first foot, Gar placed the braces onto an empty spot on the bed. Hovering near Dick, Gar remained silent trying his best not to disturb him. He was use to helping The Chief back at the Manor and thus instinctively fell back into the silent helper role, ready to do what the doctor asked. Gar's eyes flickered between the girl's unconscious face and the way Dick meticulously worked on bandaging up her ankles. He noticed the neatness of the wound and was certain it was expertly done, but by who and why? As Dick was working away securing the final brace, Gar headed towards the Vital Sign Monitor in the corner of the room and began getting it ready.

"You know how to do that?" Dick asked him.

"Yeah," Gar answered, "I've done it hundreds of times."

Dick stood up and flipped the girl onto her back conscious of her feet as he did so, before heading to another cupboard and getting some spare blankets.

"Hook her up," Dick said gesturing to the machine, "And put a few more blankets on her, she's lost a lot of blood so she needs to be kept warm."

"Got it," Gar said wheeling the monitor closer to her.

"I'm going to make a call," continued Dick, "See if we can get her a surgeon to re-attach the tendons."

Gar nodded in acknowledgement as he placed the finger probe on her index finger, his eye's glued to the monitor making sure it was working. Grabbing the phone from out of his pocket, Dick left the room and walked out into the hallway already dialling the number of a surgeon that he's relied on before. Gar continued setting up the machine, double and triple-checking making sure everything was working correctly. Once it was all set up, Gar repositioned the girl, making sure the pressure was off her feat. As he was pulled the blanket over her body he took note of the orange stain the antiseptic left on the bandages and the pungent distinct smell it had that filled the air, he reached out towards the spare blankets Dick took out and layered her up. Gar wasn't the best at looking after patients but he wasn't a complete stranger to it. He looked around the room for a bit and found a few foldable wheelchairs in an attached storage room. Taking one out, he began opening it up, in case she might not know how, and wheeled in near the head of the bed in case she woke up.

Gar felt extremely bad for the girl, he remembered her scared face on the CCTV cameras and now, seeing her in person, he only felt more sympathy. There was something inherently disturbing in deliberately taking away someones ability to walk. Something dehumanizing and upsetting. He remembered The Chief and how adamant he was on being able to walk. Sitting on the chair where Dick was previously, he gazed at the girl's face and began reminiscing his past, he thought of his family, his biological, his old ones at the manor, and his new one here in the Tower. He wondered what everyone was doing, what his life would be like if his mum and dad chose to live somewhere else, and he wondered what his new 'Titans' family would lead to. His mind was drawn back to the girl at this point, and he wondered what her family was like, where they were, and if they loved her. Gar sat there for the next twenty minutes thinking about families and all the meanings that word held.

When Dick came into the room holding a pile of clothes, Gar's concentration broke. Dick walked over to the bedside table and placed the pile down before turning to look at Gar taking in the reminiscent look on his face.

"A few people are coming over tomorrow to help her out," Dick told him walking around the bed towards him, "a quick surgery to re-connect the tendons. She'll be fine." Dick placed a hand on Gar's shoulder and giving him a reassuring smile continued, "I'm glad you were here to help, I really appreciate it. Now, get to sleep, it's late and you still have training tomorrow." he finished nodding towards the door.

Dick watched Gar leave the room before sitting down and looking at the sleeping figure. He assumed she was an adult, albeit on the young side, and he didn't want to force her into anything, but, on the other hand, she was a meta-human, and people were definitely looking for her. In his experience, nothing good happens when someone with powers falls into the wrong hands. Hopefully, she'll choose to stay here, but if she doesn't... he doesn't know what he'll do. Looking at the Vital Signs Monitor one last time, Dick stood up and headed towards the door. He might as well get a few hours sleep, she won't be waking up anytime soon.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

#titans x reader #father figure Dick Grayson cause i lowkey have daddy issues:)#fanfiction #DC x reader #self insert #slow build #angst #call of the void #part 2

39 notes · View notes

ramble-writes · 4 years

Text

Ghostly Birthday

A lovely little writing thing I decided to to do for the lovely @spoopy-scream-queen! I hope you have a lovely birthday so here’s some Ghostface boys for you <3

It was no secret that it was your birthday. Literally everyone found out since a certain group of boys spreaded the message. It started out as little things being left here and there like a favorite drink of yours, or a favorite sweet treat. Hell, your favorite song was even playing and the rule that was told was to not be mean about your tastes. Hey. The three who organized this will commit a murder if they needed to.

There was little notes being left around as well, three different hand writtings that made it so you could tell whos who. The notes left around and stuck by either tacks or tape or even sticky notes said things like “You are the most precious thing to me.” Or another would say “You’re the reason I smile so much.” And another would say something like “You are something I will never forget.” Little things around the place to start your day off good.

As the day progressed, those you walked by would gift you small things. Jason though was a free no drowning pass on the lake so you got to play around in. There with a few others such as all of Legion who, with you, pulled a prank on Freddy as in getting him wet. A good thing too since Jason still doesn’t like him from that one time they fought.

Any nicks and scrapes you got while rough housing with Demogorgon, even Cujo, were patched up by Sally. In return, you ended up braiding her hair when she removed the cover from her head. She found it nice. And by that point you were back out and playing around again.

The day crawled into night, everything was set up for you. A celebration that went on before daylight. There was cake that those such as Sally, Bubba, and with the bit of invasion from Stu and Billy. The two you haven’t seen all day till now. Though you know there’s one missing. Where ever he went, you bet he has something planed.

When cake was eaten and some settled in for the night and those controlled by the Entity went back to their realms, a tingle went up your spine. Billy and Stu noticed and knew what was happening. A hard bribe is what Danny had to do to get the Entity to make this “trial” sacrifice free. Which also means he would be away for sometime with actual trials to fill the quota given.

“Ah! There you three are!” He chuckled, hands on his hips and dressed in his Viper Ghost outfit as he calls it. Stu chuckled and rubbed his hands together. Honestly the idea of a trial was exciting to him. Killing nonstop and chasing people just to watch them cry on hooks. Damn what a life that’ll be. Honestly he thinks Danny is the lucky one of the Ghosts.

“So, since you got this set, what are the rules for this?” Billy then asked. Danny had told the two of them he wanted to do a trial like run for you, but without the death of course.

“Rules are simple, instead of generators to fix, it’s a little memory game. Get it right when the checks hit, and it doesn’t make a sound. If you failed the check, it pops and pray you can get it done quick before I find you. Think of this... as ultimate hide n seek. But with a twist. You have 5 of these to complete before I find either of you. Usually, I would have my knife, but since this is a no kill trial, I have water balloons that I will smash on your head. Get hit twice, and it’s the pedestal for you.

“If you removed one from it, I have a chance to do what we call a Mori. Buuut, again, no kill trial. So you get a giant balloon to the head. If that happens, you’re out and the other tow either need to complete the games or find the hatch. But it doesn’t open until one is left standing. The pedestals also run on a three touch system. First time, nothing happens. Second time, you’re raised up and held above a pool of water. Third time? In the water you go. And don’t worry about being cold, where we are I think is Bubba’s place so it’s pretty humid. Also no hitting me! Survivors aren’t allowed to fight back.”

You and the other two listened as Danny gave the gist of the trial. Of course Billy rolled his eyes at the no fighting rule. Stu, curious and excited, raised his hand and had to ask about what if it was a regular trial. The look on Danny’s face changed to a more sinister one as he looks at the blended in dried bloodstains on his outfit.

“That? Oh Stu, everything results in death~”

That got him excited now. Danny then clapped his hands and told them to start hiding and wait for the bell to sound from Wraith for the trial to start. With everyone in position, the wailing bell rang once and it was like hell started in an instant.

Billy managed to complete a game, but didn’t move. Something felt off and he shivered before turning around. It took him a moment to realize what was up till he spotted Danny peaking around a tree. Instantly he bolted, but he was exposed and it was too late. Danny came rushing at him an knocked him down with a balloon to the back. And BOY he was not expecting to be picked up suddenly.

“Danny what the fuck?!”

“Start struggling! And you got exposed. I stalked till you were marked. With you revealing me, it left you open to a one hit down.”

“Oh that’s bullshit!”

Danny just snickered and placed him on a nearby pedestal. Billy huffed and crossed his arms as Danny walked away before going into stalk mode again. You were found next, but you gave chase and he followed. Birthday girl or not, there was no mercy with the two water balloons. Stu had gotten Billy off, but you were next on one.

The rest of the time consisted of being chased, watered down, and placed high on pedestals. Billy was the one who suffered in the end. At least the water was warm so he wasn’t cold. At the very end, Danny had “mori-ed” you and showed zero mercy towards Stu. A win for him, and at least a taste for Stu and Billy on what actual trials would be like.

Once back home and showers were taken, the three of you hunkered down on the couch, deciding on watching random movies that come to mind or anything that seemed appealing on Netflix. With how well the day went by, you could say this was probably the greatest one you ever had. And in the end all huddled up in the warmth of the three Ghosts you love.

Happy Birthday Tea~ <3

10 notes · View notes

elareine · 5 years

Note

Promt: Jason and Tim have tea with Alfred and tell him about their relationship

They meet every Wednesday on Alfred’s afternoon off. Alfred doesn’t know whether Bruce is aware of the arrangement. He doesn’t care.

Now, Alfred loves Bruce like a son. A son he certainly never planned on having before he had him, a son of a different father, but a son nonetheless. It makes his position in the family a bit awkward, he considers - not quite a servant, but not quite a grandfather, either.

With Dick, it’s uncomplicated. He was not so much a son as a younger brother to Bruce, at first, and Alfred was too relieved about the brightness he brought to the manor to consider his own relationship with Dick. He still thinks of Dick that way: glad of the influence he is on Bruce and very, very proud.

Tim wanted to have his own father be a real father, and then he wanted Bruce to fill that spot. Alfred was never in the running. Damian is clearly Bruce’s, too. When Bruce was gone, it was Dick who took over. Cass loves Alfred, he knows, but she doesn’t need him.

Jason is different.

Here is a fundamental principle Alfred worries Bruce is starting to forget: You’re supposed to be partisan about your child. Being a parent doesn’t mean being ‘neutral’ or ‘impartial’. That goes double for a child that never had anyone on his side before.

(Bruce has always underestimated his own impact.)

At first, Alfred wasn’t happy about the somewhat unwashed youth his master dragged into the manor, he admits. It took a lot of patience with Jason.

But the lad spent more time in the kitchen than all the other Robins combined. Not to eat, no, though he certainly did a lot of that, too. Jason, it turned out, wanted to learn from him. He asked Alfred about his time in the military, about books and tea and art and recipes, looking all the time as if he knew he wasn’t wanted but was so, so determined not to care. He had been no one’s child for too long, and he wasn’t Bruce’s, not yet.

At that moment, Alfred decided that Jason would be his.

It was Alfred who taught him to appreciate the finer things in life without being blinded by the luxury the Waynes took for granted. He made sure to ask about the books Jason had read when they prepared meals. They went to visit museums together. Jason learned waltzing in Alfred’s guiding arms. Alfred even shared his tea with him.

He wanted to make sure Jason knew he always would have a home to return to.

And he mourned Jason.

Alfred doesn’t like to think about it.

Once Alfred learnt about Jason’s return, he sought him out. Jason rejected him, of course. But if Alfred were so easily deterred, he would have left Wayne Manor behind a long time ago. That principle of partisanship? It’s also applicable to an angry and traumatised young man. Bruce, of all people, should know.

So now this: Wednesday afternoon tea with Jason.

At first, they keep their conversations neutral. Alfred is quite happy to discuss literature with someone cultured enough to appreciate it, though he disagrees with Jason’s notion that poetry can only be appreciated in its original language. Not everyone can become fluent in a foreign language within months.

Gradually, other topics sneak in. He’s watching Jason find his way back into life, Alfred realises as he listens to Jason talk about Mr Harper and Miss Kori, and then later about other Outlaws, other people he is letting into his heart.

They don’t talk about Bruce. Alfred would be willing to, but he understands that Jason is not ready, might not ever be.

(There is one month that Jason doesn’t make it to their meetings because he cannot leave the bed. He doesn’t tell Alfred why. He doesn’t need to. Alfred has seen the bloodstain’s on Bruce’s gloves.

It isn’t often that Alfred feels this helpless.)

However, other members of the family are not off-limits anymore. Alfred welcomes the opportunity to discuss Damian with someone who regards him with the same mix of exasperation and care. The insight Jason provides about the Lazarus Pit is quite helpful.

They discuss Dick’s latest self-sacrifice, Cass’ ballet lessons and Stephanie’s pranks. Lately, Tim’s name has been mentioned more and more. It seems the two are developing a friendship. Alfred approves wholeheartedly. It’s a gain for the entire family to have them in each other’s corner.

Then Jason starts asking about love. Alfred does his best to answer, but even as they discuss Corinthians 13:4-8, Shakespeare and E.E. Cummings, he wonders.

On a Wednesday in July, Jason answers his unspoken question. In fact, he blurts it out as soon as their tea is served.

“I’ve… recently started seeing someone.”

Alfred raises an eyebrow. “Ah?”

“Tim.”

Alfred smiles. His intuition was right again.

Jason keeps talking. “Look, I know it has to be a bit weird for you. But I actually think we’re good for each other, you know? And I won’t leave him like - like some other people did, or complain about him being a vigilante or working too much-“

Bemusedly, Alfred realises that Jason is trying to reassure him that he, Jason, is good for Tim.

“Master Jason,” he interrupts the flow of words, “I have no reason to doubt you. How about you let Master Tim know that he can join us now?”

Jason hesitates, then gives him a crooked smile and takes out his phone to send a quick text. “Should’ve known nothing gets by you.”

Alfred silently agrees, but he’s too polite to say so out loud.

Less than a minute later, the door of the cafe opens.

Tim greets him with a shy, “Hello, Alfred,” as he takes a seat beside Jason.

“Hello, Master Tim. Thank you for joining us. Tea?”

“It’s just this once,” Tim hastens to explain. “I won’t intrude on your time again. I just… wanted to introduce myself. As Jason’s boyfriend, I mean. Obviously, you know me. Uh.”

Ah, these boys.

Alfred notes approvingly that Tim is holding Jason’s hand under the table. He’ll trust Tim with Jason’s heart, he decides - but it won’t hurt to drop a few hints of what will happen should that trust be misplaced.

After all, Alfred never claimed to be neutral.

#jaytim #Alfred Pennyworth #aka how many headcanons can I cram into one #ficlet #for a fic about talking there sure isn’t a lot of talking happening here

126 notes · View notes

heartslogos · 5 years

Text

mafia!verse: the wedding [1]

There are social events that hold personal, and social, significance and power. They bring communities together. They provide avenues for bonding and exchanging information, exchanging money, exchanging blood.

Society uses these occasions to build. To grow. To war.

And during these occasions nothing is more important than hospitality. Civility. Propriety. The following of certain accepted social agreements and unspoken rules. The covenant of neighbors, of social hierarchy, of class.

Birthdays are an example of such an important occasion.

The classic tale of Sleeping Beauty illustrates exactly why this is so important. A child is born and everyone comes to wish the happy parents well. The parents invite everyone of import.

But everyone knows that there’s one person who wasn’t invited. And whether or not they would have accepted the invitation is irrelevant. What matters is that no invitation was offered.

One does not slight someone of such power and importance.

Now, the Wayne family isn’t made of fairies. There’s too much talent for iron and its various formats for that. But at least two of them are so rotten not even death would take them.

Another such occasion with as much importance that would require the same amount of respect and healthy handling of such societal niceties as a birth is a wedding, which usually precedes a birth by about eight to nine months depending on how close that shotgun is to someone’s head.

Weddings are important things. They’re the start of something. They’re the end of something. They’re the making of something. They are the destroying of something.

Weddings bring people together. They end wars. They start alliances. They usher in peace. They can start feuds. They can start grudges.

And the Wayne family was not issued an invitation to this one.

Dick Grayson drives up to the security guards posted all the way down at the end of the street, parking his car right there in the damned center of it and knowing not a single person present — security guards, people who also happen to unfortunately live in this affluent suburban neighborhood, reporters, police — is going to stop him.

The man’s an angel to end all angels.

The word end is used in its most literal, finite, and apocryphal sense here.

Man’s got a smile like a morning star, you could call him Vesper. You could also call him by the other name, too, but you’d get more of a laugh than anything.

He smiles that devil’s smile and the security guards falter. Most do.

Dick Grayson adjusts his suit, and turns to the sound of another car. Dark cherry red coming to a smooth stop next to his.

“Jason,” his eyebrows raise as the car doors open, “Tim. You came together?”

“Yup,” Jason answers, jerking his thumb towards the passenger side as it threatens to swing closed on the occupant. “Timbo over there’s having a day. I felt like being decent and giving the man a ride.”

“Feel like being decent and helping me out of the car?” Tim calls from the other side. Jason leans against his side of the car, making no move to go help. Dick shakes his head and goes to help.

“Having a day are you?” Dick asks, holding the door open so Tim can swing his forearm crutches out and pull himself out after them.

Tim Drake was supposedly assassinated on live television four or five years ago. Supposedly. Rumor has it that it was all staged. To make the people who saw that video feel sorry for him. To get the negative press coming from outside of Gotham off his back. To get people who do want him dead to lower their guard so he could surprise them by popping back up when they least expect it.

Jury’s out on whether he was really shot or not — several thousand witnesses, a still somewhat visible bloodstain right out front of W.E., and a box of evidence in the police department vaults aside. But he’s been using the crutches on and off ever since and no one’s got the balls to challenge it to his face.

“Yes.”

“And Jason just so happened to be around to give you a ride?”

“I might have been there already as the day was progressing towards crutches territory,” Jason admits, making a motion for them to get a move on so he can lock the car.

“Oh? Anything I should be worried about?”

“We were bonding,” Jason says, “Right, Replacement?”

“It’s fine, Dick,” Tim ignores Jason and starts to swat Dick’s hands away as he tries to fix Tim’s hair. “What are you doing here?”

A motorcycle snarls in the rapidly deceasing distance.

“It’s a family gathering off the manor grounds,” Jason groans, “Ode to joy.”

Cassandra’s black monster of a motorcycle comes to a perfect stop, next to Jason’s car.

She flips the visor on her helmet up, examining all of them before resting her eyes on Tim.

“Bad?” She nods towards the crutches.

“They aren’t for the aesthetic.”

Before anyone can say anything about that, one way or the other, a final car comes by. It doesn’t park, it idles as its passenger leaves the back seat, before slowly reversing and turning itself around to drive off again.

“What are you all doing here?”

“Attending a wedding,” the four of them answer, eyeing each other and Damian.

“Alright, I’ll bite, did anyone here get an invite?” Jason says, “Raise your hand if you feel excluded from the block party that literally everyone was invited to.”

Four hands raise. Tim whacks one of his crutches against Jason’s tires to cast his vote.

“I heard Vale was invited,” Damian says as they all stare at each other.

“I’m sure our invitation was lost,” Dick shrugs, “I bet they didn’t know who to address it to. There’s six of us, after all, and most of us are never at the manor.”

“Such optimism.”

Cassandra points at the closest security guard, making sure he’s met her eyes before she points at her bike.

“If this has moved,” Cassandra says, “I will remove you.”

She does not wait to see if this is understood. She turns around and starts to take off her leather jacket, revealing a black undershirt.

Cameras flash. The reporters who didn’t get a chance to pass security know better than to ask questions, and to be content with whatever pictures they can manage.

“Shouldn’t you be hiding your face?” Jason gestures towards the flashing cameras as the four of them move to somewhat obscure their sister from the flashing lights. “Might look bad for you if you’re seen crashing a wedding.”

Tim’s smile to the cameras causes a riot of flashes that are now solidly directed and him. It looks so menacing in its niceness that it would make sharks look like herbivores.

“Don’t be silly, Jason. I own those reporters.”

“Tim, Tim, Tim,” Dick chides, “You can’t own reporters. Owning reporters is owning people and that’s slavery. It’s been outlawed.”

“Slavery is illegal and wrong,” Cassandra says from where she’s standing a bit off from them, pulling out a neatly folded dress shirt from her bike’s storage compartment and doing it up. “Damian, do my tie.”

Damian sighs, “Yes, Cassandra. You’d think that you’d know how to tie it yourself at this point, considering all the other knots you know.”

Dick points at her as he slings an arm around Tim and Jason, drawing them in together earning a grumble from Jason and an irritated eye roll from Tim, “Exactly, Cass. Besides, there’s something more powerful than owning a person.”

Cassandra and Dick both turn at the same time to face the cameras directly in a sharp snap.

“You can own the face of their fear.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jason passes a hand over his eyes. “You’re the goddamned worst. I don’t know why I bother. Alright. Let’s get this shit show on the road.”

Dick smiles at the guards.

“You don’t need to see our invitation, right?”

Damian doesn’t wait, he brushes past the guards and starts walking towards the house with the white ribbons on its tall stone wall.

“Our invitation is the fact that we are Waynes, and all the money used to pay for this wedding came from our graces,” Damian says, “And frankly, I would like to see such graces return with some measure of gratitude.”

“Agreed,” Tim adjusts his grip on his crutches as he moves forward, parting guards without any resistance. “This union wouldn’t have happened without my influence and I would like some minor acknowledgement of that. And there are some people here who’ve been annoyingly persistent in how hard they are to reach.”

#heartsfic #c: unwanted and enduring knight #c: a star going red giant #c: icarus rising #c: uncompromising victor #c: the dreamer who always sees the stars #c: the children's champion

20 notes · View notes

cookieswriting · 5 years

Text

Can’t Be Happening Pt. 3 (SEAL Team)

((Can I just say how much I HATE Ash Spenser right now? How much do we want to bet he implied that it was Clay that told him about the op intentionally, knowing full well saying a Seal that was there would make the brass believe he was talking about his son? Can only imagine how much trouble this is going to bring up for Clay. Grr.))

The sight of the man she loved, chained from the ceiling and barely able to hold himself upright with blood coating his temple and right side, left Stella breathless. Even still, she knew that he needed her in that moment, so she steeled herself and stepped up until she was directly in front of him. Her trembling hand reached up to cradle the ‘clean’ side of his face. “You know the guys would never leave you behind. They’ll come for you soon, baby...you’ve just got to hold on a little bit longer, okay?” Tears filled her eyes, slid down her cheeks. “Stay with me. I’m right here.” She willed Clay to look up at her, to meet her eyes and let her know that he heard her. As he leaned his head into her hand, though, agony twisted his handsome features-

Stella jerked awake with a gasping breath, fresh tears spilling over her lashes. The dream had been so real...it had felt as though Clay’s too-warm skin was actually under her hand, smelled like the metallic blood that seemed to be staining his white t-shirt red too quickly. Just as had happened when she watched his abuse on the screen at the bar, Stella’s stomach rebelled at the thought that this might be even close to reality for Clay and left her rushing for the bathroom.

Once she’d emptied the (meager) contents of her stomach and brushed her teeth, Stella glanced at her Fitbit to see that it was past 3am, and she knew here was no way she’d be getting back to sleep after that horror show of a nightmare. Instead, she padded quietly into the living room, torn between relief and despair when she saw the light on and Naima nursing her son. The older woman looked up at Stella’s approach. The sad smile on her face let Stella know she’d heard her retching.

“Would you like something to settle your stomach?” Stella shook her head silently as she curled up in the corner of the couch, holding herself protectively. “I’m a bit surprised it took til the second night for you to have a nightmare. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

Grateful that Naima gave her time to collect her thoughts, didn’t comment on the seemingly unending silent tears, Stella knew that she needed to start leaning into the support of this woman and the other wives if she hoped to truly become part of the family. “I, uh...I had a dream about...about C-Clay being held captive.” She stared at the sleeves of her sweater, pulled over her fingers out of nerves. “It just...it felt like it was real. It felt like I was standing right in front of him, begging him to hold on til the guys found him.” Stella’s breath hiccuped as she tried to keep herself calm. The last thing she wanted was to upset the baby when Naima had been kind enough to take care of her the last two days since Clay had been taken. “He was suffering so much, and there was nothing that I could do to make it any better.” She looked up, desperate for comfort. “How do you handle this?”

The Kurdish woman looked pained for a moment. “This...being the fact that Clay has been taken hostage?” She nuzzled her infant, tears filling her own eyes. “This situation is rare, by the grace of God. We haven’t dealt with this before now. Injuries, separations, death...but never having one of the team become subject of a terrorist’s ransom message. I don’t know how to handle this kind of uncertainty, but I know that the worst thing would be for you to be alone through this.”

“I don’t deserve to be helped like this…I sent him out there heartbroken…”

“Don’t go there, Stella,” Naima insisted firmly. She gestured for the younger woman to wait, and disappeared to settle her son into his crib. When she returned, she settled onto the couch alongside Stella. “The men haven’t been allowed to contact us since the video...we don’t know what happened when he was taken. You can’t take that responsibility on your shoulders. Especially having decided to commit to this life...you have to accept that there will be risks, that sometimes we will get into arguments and they will leave on less than ideal terms...but they are the best for a reason. They are trained for this under any circumstance.” Her hand settled on Stella’s shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. “You tried to reach him, tried to tell him. And if I know our boys, which I do pretty damn well, you’ll get the chance to tell him soon enough. In the meantime...if you need to cry, you let yourself cry. If you need to get out of the house, let me know and I can either set up some time with the other wives, get a babysitter, or we can go out with the kids. But don’t give up faith that Clay will come home.”

Finally releasing the tenuous hold that she had on her emotions, Stella threw her arms around Naima’s neck and allowed herself to sob and accept the comfort offered by the older woman.

Bravo Team hadn’t been sure of what to expect when they finally breached the room where Doza’s men were holding Clay, and when Sonny laid eyes on the younger man, he had all the drive he needed to take out any hostile that came across his scope. It didn’t take long for the team to wipe out everyone except for their injured teammate: hanging from the ceiling, shackled, covered in blood and bruises, head drooped against his chest.

Sonny rushed forward, heart in his throat until he tore off his glove with his teeth and felt a faint pulse under his fingers. He took hold of the blonde’s dirty face, desperate for any sign of consciousness. Fluttering eyelids gave the Texan hope. “Hey, we’ve got you, brother, just hold on a little bit longer.” He leaned back enough to take in the growing bloodstain on his shirt, looked up to meet Trent’s gaze. Grim worry stared back, and the unspoken directive was clear. “We’re gonna get you home...but we’ve gotta take you down first. It’s going to hurt, brother, but we’re here, lean on us as much as you’ve gotta.”

“So-Sonny…” Clay’s weak voice barely made it past his lips, but Sonny listened as if it were the only sound in the room. “Please...don’t let Stella...blame herself.” Was the kid delusional? Why would Stella blame herself?

“We need to get him down, we can figure the rest out later,” Ray murmured. “HAVOC this is Bravo Two. Bravo Six has been located and hostiles eliminated. I repeat, we have Bravo Six...but he’s in bad shape. Have a medical team waiting at the helipad when we get back.” Blackburn gave a concise response, but none of them paid him mind. Ray and Jason situated themselves on either side of the wounded SEAL, Brock stepped up behind him with bolt cutters, and they all nodded. Trent slid around Brock to support Clay from behind, but none of them were expecting the agonized cry and for him to drop like dead weight as soon as his feet were planted on the ground.

“Sonny, Brock get the litter ready,” Trent commanded. As soon as it was laid out, he gestured for the team leaders to lay their youngest out on it, and began assessing Clay. “He’s still alive, but we need to get him the hell out of here if we want him to stay that way.” Bravo Four lifted the hem of Clay’s shirt, and hissed sympathetically. “No wonder he’s leaking so bad...looks like they stuck him with a serrated blade. This wound is a shredded mess.” He applied a pressure bandage and grabbed Sonny’s hand to keep it in place as the medic moved down to his left leg. “Broken. I need to brace it. He’s also got a dislocated shoulder, same side...dammit!” He looked up to Jason. “Hold him down while I fix the dislocation?” Bravo One nodded solemnly, and Sonny found himself grateful that Clay was unconscious for all of this. The crack made all of them wince, and Sonny held his breath when the kid twitched, head lolling to the side.

“Stella…” he breathed before falling silent once more. Ray glanced up at Trent as the medic made quick work of the temporary splint from his kit.

“Okay, let’s move, we need to get to exfil yesterday,” Jason instructed as soon as Trent moved back. Sonny, Trent, Brock and Ray each took hold of the litter, and Bravo One provided cover until they made it to the waiting helicopter. The four carrying Clay eased him into the chopper, and startled when the previously-unconscious man lashed out with his unbroken leg and what probably would have qualified as a war cry if he’d been any stronger. “Easy!” Jason barked, jumping up into the Blackhawk behind Brock to press Clay’s shoulders down. “Stand down, Spenser, you’re safe.”

Blue eyes stared up at the team leader, and Sonny found himself creeped out by the lack of recognition in his gaze...as though he were staring through Jason rather than at him. “Just a grad student, man…”

Jason knelt forward and held Clay’s face in both of his hands, jostling him just enough for the younger man to finally blink up at him with clear - albeit agonized - eyes. “Hey, kid, you with me?” A weak nod. “I know you’re hurting, brother, but we’ve got you. Try to relax so Trent can get as much done as he can while we’re airborne.” As soon as Clay stilled, the medic jumped up, followed by the rest of the team, and the pilot took off smoothly.

Sonny watched Trent work, swapping out saturated bandages and quickly applying new ones and periodically checking vitals. The increasingly grim look on the medic’s face left a hollow pit in the Texan’s stomach; the team had taken a hit when they’d lost Nate, but somehow this felt so much worse. Clay, in spite of the butting heads at the beginning, had thoroughly ingrained himself as an invaluable member of the team. He’d settled into his position as the ‘Rookie’, the ‘kid’...kid brother maybe, Sonny lamented to himself as his eyes shifted to the younger man’s face. The blood and bruises did little to make him seem older, and the familiar protective rage started to rise up all over again.

“HAVOC this is Bravo One, we made it to exfil and are Oscar Mike. Be ready, he’s losing a lot of blood.”

“Copy Bravo One, you guys just keep him breathing til you get here, docs’ll take care of the rest.” The forced confidence in Blackburn’s voice made Sonny’s skin crawl, but he knew that nothing their Commander said would’ve been enough. Nothing would be until they were able to stabilize Clay.

The rest of the flight was silent, each of the team members either lost in their own thoughts or busy fighting to keep their brother alive. The runners of the Blackhawk had barely touched down before they jumped out and cleared the way for the team of medics, ready and waiting as promised with a stretcher. The Mexican team took over for them seamlessly, calling for Trent to follow to provide information. The rest of Bravo lingered by the chopper, shock settling over them in the absence of active purpose. A hand landed heavily on Sonny’s shoulder, and he turned to see Brock, pale and drawn, eyes still following the flurry of movement heading towards the medical wing’s doors.

“Come, I will show you where you can get cleaned up and wait for news,” General Garcia called, face sympathetic and patient as they slowly turned to face him. Blackburn, Mandy and Lisa hovered behind him, the women visibly distraught; Sonny imagined their collective stupor did nothing to ease their worry, let alone the blood that he was sure coated his own uniform as well as some of the others. “We will treat him as one of our own.” Blackburn nodded his gratitude as Bravo team finally started moving, dutifully following the Mexican Marine leader. Dammit, Clay, don’t you dare go out like this...

#SEAL team fanfic #clay spenser whump #stella baxter #clay spenser

25 notes · View notes

chronicbatfictioner · 6 years

Text

A Real Boy - Chapter 6

Bruce Wayne was everything the media portrayed - and none of it. In the media, he was a dork - and that was Tim's conscience being nice. He would bumble his way through an interview while tripping over his own feet and laughed a little too loudly and too cheerfully for someone who was supposed to be in eternal mourning. Yet in the realm of his own house, under the gentle lighting and fading sunlight streaming into the kitchen nook that they were going to have tea at, he looked large and imposing and dark. Tim could feel the hair on his nape stood on end.

"Bruce! Look who got in!" Dick announced cheerfully, as Zitka huffed a little on his side. Bruce looked up from the large tablet he was holding, and Tim had to school his own thought to not think of this man as someone who would eliminate evil supernatural beings for fun and that he shouldn't be counted as evil. And by 'he' Tim meant himself. Nope, he's not. Tim was just a kid. Surely Bruce wouldn't think of him as a threat?

When he spoke, Tim was floored.

"Ah, the Boy Who Lives." he said in booming baritone, nary a hint of the high-pitched, vapid playboy persona he would display for the media.

Tim's eye-roll was involuntary, but Dick caught it and laughed. Even Jason was snickering at him.

"Really, Mr Wayne, of all the things you could call me..." Tim groaned.

"What? Dick made me watch the movies and then read the books - 'as reference,' he said." Bruce said. "And call me Bruce, please. 'Mr Wayne' made me sound old."

"You are," Tim blurted, and quickly added, "...older than I am, frankly. I mean it's just a sign of respect to call you mister and all. And my parents taught me manners and they're useful in the boardrooms and whatnot. But some people just..."

"Tim, breathe." Jason said. Tim breathed. "He's not gonna like, unsheathe a sword and lop your head off. So chill."

"Yes, I'm not gonna do any of those. First of all, I have no sword in my present right now. And foremost, Alfred does not appreciate bloodstains on his good China." Bruce pointed out. "Have a seat, both of you, please, indulge! It's rare that Dick and I have company during tea time!" he gestured toward the set of chairs across him. His eyes might not have focused solely on either of them, yet Tim realized that from where he sat, he could have seen the entirety of the kitchen from the indoor entrance to the backdoor exit. The large window next to him would have given him a good vantage point of the backyard.

A standard for warlocks, really. They would sit in a place where they could see threat coming in - from whatever form of threat. The house was heavily hexed and protected with a plethora of spells that would render any stranger uncomfortable - this Tim could feel right away, and the changes thereof once Alfred mentioned about adjusting it.

And somehow, it warmed his heart a little when he realized that Alfred was so willing to lower the house's defenses especially for him and Jason. Alfred was also manually pouring tea to cups for him and Jason. Whether the old man was humoring Jason, or knew that he could behave like a normal human being, Tim couldn't tell. But he didn't mind. He was certain that Jason, too, didn't mind.

The tea was hot and fragrant, and there were tartlets that Tim indulged happily - it has been a while since he'd eaten anything homemade; and he was quite certain that Alfred would have made the tartlets manually. They drink and ate somewhat a little quietly. Tim noticed that Dick was feeding Zitka chunks of fruit out of a basket, and that Jason was watching them with amusement in his eyes.

"Alright, then. Now that the formalities are done, boys are fed, how can I help you, Timothy?" Bruce asked.

"I..." Tim hesitated and looked at Jason. "Well, Jason brought me some news that he thought I should share with you..."

Bruce's eyes refocused on Jason. "From the Acres of All." he stated, not asked.

"From S'aru." Jason replied. "He's aware of the place I was trained at, and its proprietors. He's just never gotten a chance to go there." he added, telling Tim.

"Oh, okay..." Tim remarked. "Anyway... maybe Jason should reiterate..."

"No, it's your call." Jason sighed. "You should reveal things I've told you on your own discretion. I mean, it's not like you'll want to tell random strangers that you have pink toothbrush, right?"

Tim sent him a death glare as Dick snickered. "I do not have pink toothbrush!"

"Zitka said you looked familiar to her." Dick remarked.

"She did?" Tim perked up. "I mean, wow. I didn't even see her back then..."

"See her?"

"Uh... yeah... I was... I guess I should've told you first and foremost. I was there when... your parents--" Tim stammered, feeling his cheeks started to burn when Dick didn't say anything. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to bring up bad memories..."

Dick smiled, "Oh no, I remember you, alright. You took a picture with us before we started the show, didn't you?"

Tim perked up again. "Yes! I mean, my parents and I did. It was..." he swallowed around the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat. "...well, the first and last time I went to a circus-- with my parents." he smiled, and knowing well that his smile was lame and forced; a distorted mirror of Dick's cheery smile.

"Sorry that your first ended up badly for you." he said. "But anyway, yeah, I guess you wouldn't have seen Zitka because I haven't earned her, yet. She came to be with me once I moved in with Bruce. It was a little soon, since I was only ten, but--" he shrugged. "Circumstances, you know how it goes. Plus, she was an inheritance from my mom."

"I imagine your warlock ancestors must be squirming in their graves that you brought in a magi-fae kid home..." Jason smirked at Bruce. The latter grinned back.

"I bet they were... lest they have ran out of squirms when my motherjoined the household." Bruce replied. "So, now that we've established our familiarites - no pun intended, Zitka - what was it, then, that brought you to my home?"

Tim inhaled slowly, rearranging the things Jason had told him a few nights ago. "'The rise of the Untitled is coming, and they're heading for Gotham to open the portal of the Underworld and bring forth the elimination of non-magickal beings.'" he quoted.

Bruce and Dick was quiet as they stared at each other, neither paid attention to when Zitka stole a whole apple from the table.

"That's... a heavy premonition." Bruce remarked.

"S'aru doesn't understand embellishment." Jason replied, shrugging. "He's like, the All-Seeing being. Only he's also a lazy bum who doesn't like to move around and too far away from his beloved hookah. Kind of like Alice in Wonderland's Caterpillar, only he doesn't change to butterfly." he told Tim.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know literature is a part of a familiar's training. Or did you pick that up from Tim?" he asked excitedly. Excitedly - to the point where Tim and Jason literally glared at him in confusion.

"Not all familiars - like not all mages - live in the medieval era, Mr. Wayne." Jason retorted. "Some of us enjoyed the outside world's depiction of our world, some even have their own technological stuff, like social media." Tim's head turned so fast toward Jason that his neck cricked. "What? Ever seen those cute or scary cats or other animal accounts on Photogram?"

"Seriously??" Tim and Dick chorused. Tim was almost sure that even Alfred's cool demeanor changed just a tick.

Jason exchanged his glares between the two of them. "Some of them may be the work of a human who has nothing to do than to pretend to be their cats, but some are..." he shrugged nonchalantly. "Anyway, yes, magnificent tea, Mr Pennyworth, since my magi seemed to have forgotten his manners." Jason told Alfred with a big, disarming smile that was almost as bright as Dick's.

"Wow... okay, Zitka, you don't plan to open your own Photogram account, do you?" Dick asked Zitka, who trumpeted softly. "Right, I'm..." Dick turned around to glare blankly at Bruce. "wow, Zitka said he's right. And I'm starting to worry about who my Photogram followers actually are."

"They don't follow anyone but their magi, Grayson... isn't that obvious?" Jason smirked.

"You're not thinking of having a Photogram account, do you?" Tim demanded to Jason. The latter shrugged.

"I don't see the benefit of it just yet. Maybe once you're settled, or my presence is announced or whatever. I'd love my own account to the BookNook, though." Jason beamed at him. Tim had to actually will himself not to gape.

"...You seriously read." he stated.

"Well, then, our library might be... entertaining for you." Bruce quipped, smirking slightly. "Right, Alfred?" On the side, Dick groaned.

"Yes, indeed. Master Richard may only liked written words that can be quickly summarized and preferably read-to for him. You, however, may prefer a physical form that can be..." Alfred suddenly quieted his voice for a moment before continuing. "...that is, if your Magi is alright with it? It is getting quite late, and I do not believe Master Tim's driver's license allowed him to drive at night."

Tim shrugged. "I can drive just fine."

"Yes, but my conscience would not allow me to look away from it," Bruce explained. "Plus, it's Gotham. It's... not safe out there for anyone to be out at night," he added, emphasizing on 'anyone'.

"You know I'm a magi, right?" Tim protested. "and I have my big and strong familiar with me..."

"It's not just the dangers from the real world, Timmers..." Dick intoned. "We... Bruce and I and some of our... allies - we have known that there is something brewing that's dangerous for everyone and everything we held dear. We sure won't wish you to stumble into it accidentally."

"It might help to allow these young men to understand your stance, Master Bruce..." Alfred suggested quietly. Bruce looked at Dick, probably to ask for his opinion.

"I dunno... he's still really young..." Dick sighed.

"As were you, Master Dick..." Alfred reminded. Dick grimaced. Tim thought that they might have had this kind of discussion a few times too many, as Dick opened his mouth to say something, only to be met with Alfred's cold glare and tick of eyebrow, and Dick deflated.

"Fine, fine... tell him." Dick grumbled.

Bruce nodded. "Alright, I hereby cordially ask you both to spend the night, gentlemen. There are... things that I would like to discuss with you that might require time, and as I've said before, I don't like you driving at night. So, will you stay?"

"I don't bring an overnight bag..." Tim still hedged, a little uncomfortable with the offer, in spite of realizing that Bruce had meant well and not likely to... do anything untoward. "It's just... I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude. Just that it's kind of weird."

"Oh, I understand. Very well, then. At least stay for dinner, it should be in a few hours. Afterward, you can let me know if you would stay or not." Bruce remarked.

"What are we supposed to do in a few hours?" Tim couldn't resist asking.

"Well," Dick's grin was a little unsettling. "...we can always go play in the dungeons."

That strangely felt like a challenge. And Tim's brain, a millennial brain that never understood that it would be safer to back away from a challenge, overrode his self-preservation instincts and said, "Sounds great!" followed by an inward cringe and a glare toward Jason and a deep suspicion that Jason was the millennial voice agreeing to such mischievous and potentially-dangerous summon.

"Oh no, I did not say you may play in a dungeon! That was on you. I, on the contrary, prefer to roam about in the library!" Jason protested.

"You're not much help as a familiar, are you..." Tim groused.

"I can only do so much for a kid who has no self-preservation instincts, Timmy." Jason replied smugly.

"I do, too, have self-preservation instincts!" Tim protested. Lied.

"Suuure... anyway, if he does a bad touch, feel free to holler." Jason quipped. Dick chortled heartily.

"Oh, man! I think Babs would love you," he told Jason as he got up from the table. "Come on, guys! Let's meet the brain behind all of these magicks!"

#Tim Drake #Jason Todd #no-capeAU #Dick Grayson #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Zitka #Batfam #Magi!AU #I forgot to title #-___-'

13 notes · View notes

shockfemme · 5 years

Text

Pretty. Black. Girl: How My First White Crush Crushed Me But Didn’t Break Me By Hadass Wade

“I think she’s hot, but my mom would kill me if I dated a black girl,” Rick said. Rick and I had been flirting with each other in the hallways and passing notes to each other for weeks. I really wanted him to ask me to the homecoming dance, so I had my best friend do some sleuthing for me. Which I like to think was subtle conversation, but she probably actually just flat out told him “Hadass likes you. Do you like her?”

In all honesty, I could have chosen a better looking guy to decimate my ego, but really, we all looked like aliens back in the good old days of 9th grade. Puberty destroyed our childhood cuteness and left us with body hair and acne and rampant emotions. Rick was tall, skinny, with slight acne (but, who didn't back then?) and dark hair that he bleached blonde and spiked up at the top. He also totally wore JNCOs (I know, SO edgy and alternative, I could barely stand it).

The importance of a crush and all its exhilaration turned into “does he like black girls or not?” To me, race wasn’t ever a barrier in friendship or romance. I had had white best friends and none of my white crushes before this had called out my blackness as the deal breaker. But this one changed all that had come before. Now, I wondered if Jason in 8th grade had laughed at my love note because he just wasn't into me or because he thought it was hilarious that I thought he could ever like a black girl?

“You’re pretty for a black girl.” It’s something I’ve heard not once, not twice…okay, I don’t actually have an exact figure, but even twice is two times too many. I had grown up around enough black people to never really think about race, but you’d better believe I knew exactly where I stood once I dared have a crush on a white boy. Post-puberty, being called “hot” was, embarrassingly enough, an achievement, but the rush was tempered by my realization that the root cause of our ultimate incompatibility was my blackness.

In all my struggles with femininity - learning to pluck my eyebrows, learning to ignore how fucking painful it was to pluck my eyebrows, navigating the tricky waters of periods and the bloodstains that came with it, shaving, and the blood that came with it, wearing makeup and learning how to put it on-it took me longest to work my way through the worrying/knowing that my blackness had the potential to mask what I wanted people to see about me. And, I’ll be honest, the teenage me wanted to be attractive and edgy and have a boyfriend, or at least a fucking date to the dance. I read every article and beauty tip in Teen, Seventeen, and Cosmo (when I could get my hands on it), but no amount of makeup and perfectly plucked brows was going to change Rick’s mind.

It was hard enough just figuring out all the things I was supposed to do, like remembering to shave my legs if I was going to wear shorts or a skirt, without adding a total identity crisis to my plate. Seventeen Magazine was strangely silent on what to do if your crush's mother was kinda racist. So, really, what do you do?

I stopped reading magazines, (except for the Cosmo sex tips because I wanted to be ready if it ever came up). I realized it's hard enough to be yourself without complete strangers giving you all these rules and guidelines for looking your best and attracting the opposite sex. Monthly guides to remind you that there is a new best lip gloss color and this one is really going to make you look and feel good! Selling the idea that you can be more likable if you just follow these 10 simple rules.

I started laughing (and still laugh) at the notion of being ladylike. I could have had the formal title of "Lady," and Rick would have been like "Nope! Still black." I still made effort with my appearance, but it was no longer a primary goal of mine to get that external validation (in part because I was no longer certain that it would ever come). And I stopped giving as many fucks about being likable.

It sounds cheesy, but I think I beat a lot of my friends to self-acceptance. Because I had had that experience of rejection so early on and it was based on such a fixed aspect of my identity, I was able to see how unlikely it was that I could ever control how desirable I was to anyone else and, also, the utter futility in trying to exercise any of that control. I had no choice but to accept myself because there wasn’t a diet plan or beauty regimen for my particular “affliction.” I knew I had to be strong because I knew it wouldn't be the last time that I felt rejection because of a fundamental part of who I am.

It would be many years before I would indulge in experimenting with the traditional trappings of femininity. And many more years before I would fully understand Rick’s particular affliction as racism rather than a legitimate preference. Nevertheless, the real victory was understanding that my blackness was not and has never been some problem to solve. So, when it comes to being "pretty," "black," "girl," or any combination of those three things, I'd like to thank Rick's racist mama for helping me learn that there are no rules beyond self-love.

1 note · View note

sassyshoulderangel319 · 6 years

Text

Notes: I run @centralcitygirlingotham and this is a “deleted scene” from the story going on over there. By deleted, I mean, “I’m expanding on the story so the READERS know what’s going but Tally isn’t going to post about it.”

Yawning, I pushed the door to my apartment open. Smacking my lips with my mind focused on what to stick in the microwave for dinner, I didn’t notice anyone else was in my apartment until a hand closed over my mouth from behind.

“Don’t scream,” a familiar voice said in my ear.

I rolled my eyes, realizing who it was. “Do I ever?” I tried to say. But it was muffled by his glove so it sounded like, “Oo uh uh-uh?”

Red Hood let me go. “Huh?”

“Do I ever?” I repeated.

I heard him snort through his helmet. “Yes you have, once or twice. Not recently though.” He had his other arm across his abdomen, under which blood was seeping. I gasped. “Sumpthin’ wrong, sweetheart?” he asked.

“You’re bleeding!”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?! Oh my word! Sit down! Take your shirt off. I’m gonna clean it out.”

Red Hood eased himself onto my vinyl floor and slowly worked himself out of his suit top. I helped him slide it off his arms and threw it off to the side. I grabbed my First Aid kit and started to clean out the cut, trying really hard not to vomit. I hated blood. My own on my fingers was fine (nail biter life) but gory wounds like this made me lightheaded.

Hood chuckled at the look on my face. “Queasy, Tal?” he teased.

“Little,” I admitted.

He laughed. “You’re adorable.” He coughed as I pressed a little harder.

“Sorry,” I apologized.

He shook his head. “‘S fine. Mind if I take this off?” He gestured to his helmet. I shook my head. “Thanks doll.” He leaned his head up just enough to release the helmet with a pssshhh! and freed it from his head. He wore a red domino mask underneath it.

My hand froze where I was holding a damp towel over his wound.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Oh my gosh---Jason?!”

He swore. “How’d you know it was me?”

“You think I can’t recognize my boyfriend’s face because his eyes are covered? The white streak in your hair alone is a dead giveaway!”

“Nn... Yeah. I guess you’re right. You might as well find out now. Speaking of dead giveaways. I was dead once.”

“WHAT?!” So much about Gwen saying Jason Todd died when we were around fifteen making so much more sense.

“Yeah. I was Robin Number Two. The one that the Joker killed.”

“Oh. So now that I know it’s you and you’re getting delirious from blood loss you’re just gonna tell me everything?”

He shrugged from his position lying on my floor. “Might as well. You deserve to know. If you’re going to be in a steady relationship with me, honesty and communication are vital. Secrets aren’t good for relationships. ‘Sides, you’re almost bizarrely trustworthy. Like, I could have told you this the day we met for the first time and still believed you’d keep my secret safe.”

I paused. “...Thanks.”

I finished cleaning and dressing his wound and went back to my bathroom to grab some painkillers. I only had mild ones because I rarely got injured and my dehydration headaches were never bad enough to need anything stronger, but I handed him a few anyway before fetching a glass of water. “Thanks babydoll,” he said, accepting both and taking the pills I offered him. “I feel better already.”

“Try not to get slashed next time, yeah?” I suggested. “Now that I know it’s you I’m going to worry even more.”

Jason put a bloodstained, gloved hand against my face. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’ll be fine. I know how to take care of myself.”

“I know. But people shoot at you, Jay!”

Jay shrugged. “Yeah. Well. Their aim sucks,” he said, trying to sit up and grunting in pain. I helped him upright, biting back my my protesting because I knew it wouldn’t do any good.

“So... back when we met at the Gala. That really wasn’t our first meeting,” I said. “Our first meeting was that night you sat next to me on the roof the day after I moved here. You sang Bad Blood under your breath like you didn’t want me to hear it.”

He chuckled and used my shoulder as a handhold to push himself into a standing position. “That’s right. I tailed Nightwing the night before and saw him chilling with you and wondered who could possibly make him stop his patrol to sit on a fire escape with a kid.” He smirked as I got to my feet. “Turns out you’re older than you look from afar---” I jabbed him in the shoulder with my elbow. “---and really calming to be around. Even listening to Taylor Swift and reading Dracula.”

“Wait. If you’re the second Robin and Nightwing was the first...” I mused, knowing that Nightwing once was Robin from Nightwing telling me. “Oh my word. Is Nightwing Dick?”

Jason chuckled. “You’re too clever by half, Tally Star,” he said. “Yup. Dickiebird is Nightwing.”

“So... Bruce is Batman, Tim’s Red Robin, and Damian’s Robin. I’m guessing Cassie is... Orphan?”

“Not Batgirl?” Jason teased.

“Heck no. Batgirl’s a redhead. Cassie’s hair is black. Also different heights.”

Jason snickered. “You’re so smart, Tal.”

“Just because I know it’s you under the helmet and I’m familiar with your family,” I said.

Jason shrugged again and put his suit top back on. “You would have figured it out eventually. You’ve been suspicious of it since before we started dating, back when you overheard me and Dick talking about the fact that you’re a civilian the first time you came to the Manor.”

“Oh. I didn’t... know that you... knew I was there.”

“That’s because you didn’t know that I was trained by Batman.”

“Good point.”

“You’re freaking out significantly less than I thought you would,” Jason said as I helped him fasten his suit back up.

“Dude. I’m from Central City where we’ve got metahumans. And I currently live in Gotham. I’m surprised and also astounded that I didn’t figure it out earlier. And yeah I’m scared and worried about you now that I know, but I also trust you. I feel like I’ve reached the point where it’ll surprise me, but it won’t freak me out.”

Jason glanced out my window. “I should go,” he said. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay. And Jay?”

“Hmm?”

“Be careful.”

He winked at me. “Just for you, princess.”

#centralcitygirlingotham #Jason Todd #Red Hood #BatFam #DC

19 notes · View notes

rivanwarrioress · 6 years

Text

Revelations (Part 2) (Jason Todd x Reader)

SUMMARY: Sequel to Welcome to Gotham. A quiet night alone leads to unexpected revelations about Jason’s history and nighttime activities. Read Part 1 of Revelations first please, otherwise this might not make sense.

WORD COUNT: 2,607

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything, recognizable characters and places are the property of their creators

Unable to bring yourself to even attempt sleep, you scrubbed the floors of your apartment, getting rid of the bloodstains as best you could. Then, incapable of stopping yourself, you pulled on one of Jason’s leather jackets, and went up the stairs to the roof access of your apartment building. Few people ever went up here, although on numerous occasions, during the summer, you and Jason had often made an easy to transport dinner, and then gone up to the roof together, and had a picnic. Those nights had been among your favorite of your dates with Jason.

Now, you sat up there alone, Jason’s jacket wrapped around you, as tears leaked from your eyes, oblivious to the rain that fell around you, drenching your hair and seeping into your clothing, the dampness soon soaking through your pants. Your phone, at least, was marginally protected, tucked in a pocket of Jason’s jacket, with your hand wrapped around it, just in case somebody rang to update you on how Jason was doing.

There was a part of you that wondered if you would ever see Jason again. You remembered the bat on the front of Jason’s armor, and knew after living in Gotham for over a year, that The Red Hood was a member of “team Batman,” so you figured that Batman and his associates would look after Jason, but you were scared that even Batman wouldn’t be able to save him, that Jason was too badly hurt, and he’d lost too much blood. Would the superheroes take him away and deal with his body in their own, secretive way, or would you be allowed to be there when they buried him, or cremated him, or whatever it was they did with their dead?

You didn’t know what Jason’s wishes were. The one time you had brought up the topic of cemeteries you had taken one look at Jason’s face, and swiftly changed the topic. You wondered now if Jason’s reaction that day had been related to his history as the Red Hood.

You had guessed that Jason had gone through a traumatic past. On the few nights when he’d slept at your apartment he’d woken up with nightmares every single time. Even when he was awake sometimes you would say something, or he would see something, and he would space out, sometimes for a few seconds, but occasionally it was a minute or longer. A few months ago the circus had come through town, and your boss had invited you both along, but Jason had declined, admitting that night, when it was just the two of you, that he was scared of clowns. After everything you had heard since moving to Gotham about the Joker, you weren’t surprised. Fear of clowns was actually quite common in Gotham, you late found out, thanks to the internet.

Sitting on the roof of your building, you looked at the skyline of the city, the sirens and traffic noise drifting upwards from the streets below. How the hell had you not realized that Jason was a Vigilante…a superhero? It was so obvious in hindsight.

“Please…please be ok, Jason,” you whispered into the night.

Bruce rubbed his hand wearily over his face as he looked at Jason, sleeping soundly in the med bay of the Batcave. Bruce was sitting in the chair positioned by Jason’s bed, watching over his second eldest son as he slept, the younger man attached to a bag of blood to replenish what was lost. It was the second bag Jason had gone through since Bruce had carried him into the med bay and lowered him to the bed. A tube was still down Jason’s throat, helping Jason breathe by pretty much doing all the work for him.

In addition to the stab wound to his stomach, they’d also found a bullet wound to Jason’s upper chest, just below his right collarbone, although the billet itself had passed the whole way through Jason’s body. An x-ray revealed cracked and broken ribs, one of which had left a small puncture in Jason’s lung.

It, by far, wasn’t the worse injury Jason had received (Bruce was actively not trying to think about that), but the injuries were still life threatening, and Jason had stopped breathing not long after arriving at the cave. That had been when they’d intubated him to get him breathing again. Not long after that his blood pressure had dropped dramatically, and Bruce had been mentally preparing himself to start CPR, and Alfred had started prepping the defibrillator, and even had the pads positioned on Jason’s chest. Luckily, it hadn’t been needed, and they’d managed to keep him stabilized until Dr. Leslie Thompkins could arrive at perform the surgery that Jason’s needed, to patch him up.

That had been a few hours ago, and Leslie had gone upstairs for a cup of tea with Alfred. Dick had finally been persuaded to go upstairs to get some sleep, as had Tim (well, who knew if Tim was actually sleeping or not) and Damian.

Batman had made a point of knowing where Jason’s safe houses were, as well as his apartment. He had a feeling Jason knew this, or at least suspected, but it never came up in conversation. None of them were close to where they’d found Jason, and Jason wouldn’t have been in any condition to get himself that far. Of course, Jason still had his comms, and his phone, and could have called them directly for help, but that still would have left him waiting to be picked up in an alleyway, and that was a dangerous place to be, especially injured and vulnerable and unable to defend yourself. Batman was proud that Jason, notoriously untrusting towards others, had sought out a friend of his, seeking the safety of her apartment, rather than staying on the streets or rooftops. Bruce felt a shudder go down his spine at the thought of what might have happened if Jason hadn’t gone to his friend.

Jason would probably be dead, again. Lying alone until somebody came across him and raised the alarm. At the mere thought Bruce reached out and wrapped his hand around Jason’s.

“I’ve already lost you once, I can’t lose you again, Jay.”

“Bruce?”

Bruce sighed, having not heard Dick’s cat like footsteps approaching.

“I thought you were going to try and sleep.”

“I couldn’t,” Dick admitted, drawing level with Bruce and looking down at Jayson, “I kept thinking of him lying there, on his girlfriend’s floor.”

“You think she was involved?”

“No, no way, she was too cut up about it to have done it. Besides, she would have had more blood on her, and the only blood on the floor was around him, and a couple of drops around the window.”

Bruce nodded in agreement, having never suspected Jason’s apparent girlfriend in the attack.

“So…did you know? About Jason’s girlfriend, I mean?” Dick asked curiously. Bruce looked up at Dick with raised eyebrows.

“I am the least likely person that Jason would ever tell about a personal matter like that.”

Dick cringed, ‘Yeah, good point”

“I might have noticed a few years ago, when I kept a closer eye on him, but since he’s stopped killing I’ve kept more of a distance,” Bruce added.

“I wondered,” Dick admitted, “he…he seemed happier, this past year. I mean, he still kept things to himself, but…he seemed more relaxed and less…aggressive. I wondered if he’d made some new friends…or a romantic partner, but at the same time I thought it might have just been time related, you know, him healing after…everything.”

Bruce nodded, but said nothing. Dick was right, Jason had seemed happier and less…angry…with the world this last year, but Bruce hadn’t really taken much notice…another way he’d failed Jason.

“Do…do you think he’ll introduce us, at some point.”

Bruce sighed, “We did meet her, tonight” he told his oldest.

Dick rolled his eyes, “You know that doesn’t count. You were in protective Bat Dad mode over Jason. Do you even know what her name is, because she never actually told you guys?”

“I was going to look it up from her apartment,” Bruce admitted. Dick sighed and held out the piece of paper that you had written your name and phone number on.

“Meet, Y/N, Jason’s mystery girlfriend.”

Bruce lifted his eyebrow curiously, and Dick jerked the piece of paper back.

“Seriously…You think I would try and hit on Jay’s girlfriend while he was, you know, bleeding out all over the place? I would never do that to him. I told her I would keep her up to date on how he was going.”

Wearily Bruce leaned back in his seat and rubbed his hand over his face. It was something that Dick would do. Bruce himself had been too focused on Jason to worry about the girl who had, apparently, been in a relationship with his second eldest son.

“He’ll be ok, won’t he?” Dick asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice. Bruce blinked and looked up at Dick. The look on Dick’s face betrayed his emotions, and Bruce was reminded of how broken Dick had been when he’d learned of Jason’s death.

“You heard Dr. Tompkins,” Bruce reminded Dick gently, “he’s strong, he’ll recover.”

Dick visibly relaxed leaning against the wall of the med bay, “I don’t want to have to tell her that he’s gone.”

Bruce remained thoughtfully silent. While it wasn’t the first time one of the boys had gotten involved with someone romantically, it had been a long time since a civilian had been involved and he’d had to worry about a situation like this.

“You can tell her how he’s going, she already knows who he is,” he told Dick, although he knew that Dick would have done it, even if Bruce had said no. Dick was far better at dealing with people than Bruce had ever been.

“Bruce…what happened to him wasn’t your fault, you know that. Things are getting better between us and him, but he’s an adult now, he does do his own thing. You can’t protect him every minute of every day, if you tried it would only drive him away.”

Bruce sighed and nodded, bowing his head and continuing his vigil at Jason’s bedside. Dick watched him, before he backed away, leaving Bruce to his brooding. The only thing that would snap Bruce out of his funk would be Jason waking up, and that needed time.

You jolted awake as the shrill ringing of your phone dragged you from your sleep. You had gone back indoors just as the sun was beginning to rise over the horizon, and you had been shivering from the freezing cold that came from being outside in the snow for an extended period of time. A quick phone call to your boss had given you the day off, as you knew that you would be virtually useless at work after a night of no sleep.

Seeing no point in coming up with a lie, you had told your boss a part of the truth…that Jason had been attacked while coming home from work, and you had been up all night worrying about him. You hadn’t talked about how Jason had been attacked, nor the fact that he was wearing his Red Hood costume at the time. Your boss, however, hadn’t asked questions and had instead given you the week off to look after Jason, and had passed on their best wishes to him.

It had made a weak smile cross your face as you remembered how much your boss liked Jason, and had been the one to introduce the pair of you.

After the conversation with your boss, you had tried to warm up with a hot shower, and then collapsed into bed, burrowing under the warm covers, and wishing that Jason was there to wrap his arms around you. You must have dozed off, because the next thing you knew your phone was ringing loudly beside your head, where you had placed it, and a few hours had passed.

You fumbled for your phone, swiping at the screen and lifting it to you ear without looking at who it was.

“Hello?” you asked urgently.

“Hi, Y/N?” a male voice replied, and you recognized the voice as Nightwing’s from the previous night.

“Yes,”

“It’s Nightwing,” Nightwing confirmed your suspicions, “I’m just ringing to update you on Jason’s condition.”

“Is he ok?” you asked, your heart in your throat.

“Yeah… he’s still sleeping, but his vital signs look really good. Just after we got him back to the cave his blood pressure dropped really low, but we managed to get him stabilized, and then a doctor friend of ours patched him up really well.”

“And…and he’ll be ok?” you questioned anxiously.

“Yeah, give him a week or two and he’ll be back to normal. He heals fast, he has for a long time.”

“Can...Can I see him?”

Nightwing sighed, “I can’t make any promises on that one, Y/N, but I’ll see what I can do. I’ll have a word with the big guy.”

“Thank you” you replied, not knowing what else to say.

“Hey, we’ll work something out, don’t worry,” Nightwing told you reassuringly, “and even if it going to be a little while before he’s well enough to move or that it looks like you won’t be able to come and see him I promise that once he wakes up you guys will be able to talk on the phone, or even video call each other.”

You nodded, tears rolling down your face and you weren’t able to hold in the small sniffles you were making.

“Hey, it’s ok, don’t cry,” Nightwing soothed, “he’ll be up and about in no time. Why don’t you tell me a little about what you two lovebirds have been up to? Jason’s never really been one for romance, I want to know what shenanigans you two kids have been getting into since getting together.”

The next time you looked at the clock you were alarmed to realize that over an hour had passed since you had begun to tell Nightwing about the things you and Jason had done together since you had begun dating, the places that he had taken you to, the things he had made you, the little moments the pair of you had shared. Nightwing had patiently listened throughout it all, sometimes sounding emotional himself as he had asked you questions and encouraged you to continue talking about things.

“I, um, should probably let you keep going, I hadn’t realized it was getting so late,” you told Nightwing. There was a pause before Nightwing spoke again, and you wondered if Nightwing was checking to see what the time was.

‘Ah, yeah…sorry about that, Y/N, I didn’t mean to keep you talking for so long. I’ll give you a call alter on to update you on how Jason’s going. He might have woken up by then, so you guys might be able to talk.

“I’d like that,” you replied, already missing the sound of Jason’s voice.

“I’ll see what I can do, don’t worry Y/N, Jason’s is going to be fine. Bye.” Nightwing told you optimistically.

“Bye” you replied, before hanging up. While you were still worried about Jason, you were a little calmer now. He was still alive, and from what Nightwing had said it looked like he was going to make a full recovery. Still, you wished you could have seen Jason, or at least heard his voice.

Maybe later on, when Nightwing called again…

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood x reader #fanfiction #rivan warrioress #rivanwarrioress #batfamily #Bat Family

36 notes · View notes

ifonlyrhona · 7 years

Text

He Ain’t Heavy

Here's a little one shot that I think a few people wanted to see. It’s the missing hospital scene between Adam and Aaron. Hope I can do it justice. Kind of wanted to end it a bit more hopefully but it needed to fit in between the scenes we saw on screen. (Also no mention of Aaron taking drugs, I decided to save that angst for another time), I hope some of you like it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Adam say next to the bed and watched his best mate as he nervously fiddled with his wedding ring. They hadn't spoken much on the way over here. Aaron wearily resting his head on the passenger side window with his eyes closed. Adam was pretty sure he wasn't asleep but he did look done in so he was content to let him be. When they had gotten to the hospital he'd been surprised by how much Aaron had had to lean on him as he helped him into the hospital. He hadn't minded taking his weight though, he'd do anything to help him. He just wished he could carry some of whatever was weighing on his friends mind as easily as he could take his physical weight.

They still hadn't spoken much in the waiting room either. Too many people for Aaron to feel even remotely comfortable opening up to him there. So Adam had waited.

But now they were in the relative privacy of a cubicle waiting for the nurse to return and Adam couldn't wait any longer.

"Aaron talk to me mate" he said putting a hand out to still Aaron's constant ring twisting.

"What do you want me to say?" Aaron asked him, his shoulders slumped.

"Anything as long as it's something. Come on you know you can tell me anything" Adam pleaded with his best mate.

"I know, it's just, you know what I'm like" Aaron looked down at his hands. Adam hated seeing him so defeated looking.

"Yeah, yeah I do, but this..." Adam pointed at his blood stained top, trying to ignore the images of what he'd seen there earlier when he'd pulled his top up.

He knew Aaron self harmed, had always known about it but he'd never seen it before. New cuts and old scars covered his oldest friends stomach and it hurt just to think about. He never really understood why Aaron did it, why anyone did but he knew it was something he did when things got really bad, when he couldn't cope with the dark thoughts that were in his head. The last time had been when his dad had shown up in the village. The thought of what that monster had done to this man that he loved like a brother made his jaw clench with anger. But he thought Aaron had been better since all of that, he'd even been seeing a counsellor.

"What you thought I was over it?" Aaron sounded a little angry.

"Well yeah, I guess".

"That's what Robert said. But that's not how it works, it's not that easy" Aaron sighed and ran a weary hand over his eyes, rubbing hard enough that he must be seeing spots. "It's always there, it's just most of the time I can ignore it, but then stuff happens and....".

"Like your husband knocking up some bird" Adam said tactlessly and Aaron huffed a dry humourless laugh at that.

"Yeah like that and it's like it's right there, waiting".

"I knew you weren't happy about it all, but I had no idea you were struggling this much" Adam felt so bad for not noticing his friend had gotten this bad. "Why didn't you talk to me about it?".

"Because I'm sick of being the weak one, of being the one who can't cope" Aaron wiped angrily at the tears that were spilling down his cheeks. "I hate being this pathetic".

"You're not pathetic" Adam frowned at him.

"Really?" Aaron pointed at his tear stained face. "What do you call this then?"

"You're allowed to cry Aaron" Adam could feel tears pricking at his own eyes at the sight of his friend so upset.

"God I hate this" Aaron said through gritted teeth, "And I hate him".

"No you don't" Adam told him, because he knew Aaron and he knew that wasn't true.

"No, no I don't, but I hate what he's done" Aaron sighed.

"Yeah I get that".

"He said he did it to hurt me" Aaron's voice twisted on the last word. Adam screwed his eyes up in confusion.

"What, why would he?".

"Because when he came to visit me that day, we had a row, I pushed him away. I'd...I wasn't handling things that well" Adam felt like there was something he wasn't telling him, he almost looked guilty.

"I know prison can be tough" Adam said. He remembered his own time really well, he didn't know what he'd do if he ended up in there again.

"You have no idea" Aaron said.

Before he could say anything else the curtain was pushed aside and the nurse returned. She had a bowl of water and some dressings.

"Do you want me to go?" Adam said starting to stand up.

"No" Aaron said sharply and then softer. "Stay, please".

"Of course mate" Adam said sitting back down. He watched as the nurse pulled Aaron's t-shirt up but he couldn't bear to look at the evidence of just how much Aaron was hurting so he watched his face instead.

Aaron kept his eyes on the ceiling, refusing to look either of them in the eye. He winced a couple of times but he never said a word as she cleaned them up and applied a couple of dressings to some of the bigger cuts.

"A couple of these are showing early signs of infection" the nurse said. "I'll get the Doctor to prescribe you some antibiotics" she said gathering the rest of her supplies up. "Might be a bit more of a wait though".

"That's fine" Adam answered for Aaron when he didn't say anything.

"So prison then?" Adam said as soon as they were alone again.

"I don't want to talk about it" Aaron shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

"Of course you don't, it's you" Adam laughed. "But it looks like we're going to be here a while, so spill".

"Like you said prison can be tough" Aaron shrugged.

"Nah it's more than that" Adam wasn't going to let him off the hook that easy. If there were talking then they were going to do it properly. Who knew when Aaron would open up again.

"I just... they found out who I was" Aaron was back to fiddling with his ring again.

"You mean that you're gay?".

"Yeah that...and" Aaron looked at him them, meeting his eye as he told him the next part, "who my dad was".

"I don't understand, why would that make it worse, none of that was your fault?"

"There was this guy, Jason" he almost spat the name out. "He made it his mission to make my life miserable and when he found out who I was then it just gave him more ammunition".

"Ah mate" Adam said. How much crap did the guy have to go through, it was so unfair.

"He was in when...Gordon..was there. He said he talked him into topping himself. He even locked me in his cell one night, showed me where he hung himself" Aaron gave a little sob as he told him that and Adam couldn't hold back any longer. He leaned over and pulled his mate into a hug.

"I'm so sorry mate" he said, feeling his shoulder getting wet with tears.

Aaron pulled back after a minute and wiped his hands over his eyes again.

"Sorry" he said pointing at where his tears had stained Adam's top.

"Don't worry about it" Adam reassured him. "What's a bit of snot between friends", he gave another little laugh. Because that's what he did, he lightened the mood. He always figured it was why they were such good friends. He made things lighter, took away a little of the darkness that always seemed to surround Aaron, he just wished he could make it go away forever.

"So anyway, I didn't want to tell Robert, I didn't want him worrying so I pushed him away, told him I didn't need him".

"That's when he slept with Rebecca?"

Aaron bit his lip and nodded.

"To hurt you?" Adam repeated Aaron's words from earlier. "Why?".

"Because that's what Robert does, I lash out or I hurt myself but he hurts the people he loves, twists things around so people end up hating him. We're both all kinds of messed up".

"Yeah maybe" Adam said and Aaron frowned at him, obviously not expecting him to agree. "Oh come on you said it".

"I know and it's true. I love him but I'm just so tired of all this. I don't think I can do it anymore".

"What you're thinking of breaking up with him?".

Aaron shrugged.

"I'm just so fed up of everything always being so hard. He told me once, more than once actually, that I deserve to be happy".

"He's right" Adam interrupted. "You do, God Aaron you've been through so much shit, more than anyone should have to. I wish I could make it all go away. I want to see you happy too, everyone does. I know Robert wants that more than anything".

"I just don't see how I can be if things stay the way they are. It shouldn't be this hard, I shouldn't have to fight for everything, I'm just so tired Adam" and he looked it, he looked exhausted and Adam's heart broke for him.

"I used to not be able to imagine my future without him in it, only now she's in it to, her and the baby, Robert's son. A constant reminder of when he hurt me and I don't think I can live with that".

"So you'd rather a future without him in it?" Adam asked.

"I don't know" Aaron admitted as he shook his head. "But I can't go on like this" he looked at his bloodstained top before turning weary eyes back on him.

"No you can't" Adam told him. They sat in silence for a little while then, not sure what else to say. Adam could almost feel Aaron thinking.

The nurse came back in with a prescription for antibiotics and some leaflets in her hand.

"You're free to go now, please take the time to read these" she said in a gentle tone as she passed them to Aaron. Adam saw the way his face flushed with embarrassment and risked taking a peek at the leaflets in his hand. They were about self harm but based on the picture on the front they were clearly aimed at teenage girls.

"Thanks" Aaron said to her and hastily shoved them in his back pocket. "You coming?" he said to Adam as he got off the bed.

"Yeah, where to though?" Adam asked getting up and following him out of the cubicle.

"Home, I need to speak to Robert" Adam could tell by the tone of his voice that he'd made a decision now, whether it was the right one remained to be seen.

The two of them made their way out of the hospital. Adam didn't hold onto him now but he kept close in case he needed him, he always would, he was his best mate after all. Well brother really.

#emmerdale #aaron livesy #adam barton #fanfiction #angst

2 notes · View notes