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goulets · 3 years

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Heartland

Chapter: 4/9 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Roy Harper, Lian Harper, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake Case Fic / Kid Fic a03 link

Lian looks proud. “My first word was Daddy,” she tells Jason. “I bet Dani’s will be, too, since she has two daddies.”

It takes Jason a moment to process what Lian is talking about, and when he realizes it, Roy is suppressing a huge peal of laughter and Dick’s eyes are so wide they’re about to pop right out of his skull.

***

(romina)

The view has changed.

When Romina Falcone was a child, she had stood in this very office at the right hand of her grandfather and looked out this very window, down into the sprawling urban jungle. She’d thought Gotham City was beautiful. Carmine had a story for every building, every street, every truck and car and pedestrian. The businessman who needed funds to keep his product line moving, soon to be in debt to their family. The district attorney’s office who wanted to cut fiscal corners on an exterior remodel, soon to enter into a contract with them. The gas station at a particularly desirable intersection, soon to be abandoned and auctioned off - the delivery van pulling up to the pump, soon to motivate the owners to abandon it. There was nothing, he said, that was out of reach for them. There was no one who could afford not to answer their call.

She sits in the seat he once sat in, her brother at her right hand, the city laid out below her, and she sees none of it.

“Romina? Are you listening?” her brother asks, angry.

“Obviously not,” she tells him. Who would she pick out of this crowd, if she was her grandfather? The woman in the suit, maybe - a journalist, ambitious and easily bought. The corner bistro, in the red for the third year in a row, about to be turned down for a loan extension. The restless pawn shop security guard, washed out from the police academy, in need of a better outlet to exert his will upon the public.

One by one, she thinks. One by one, they will all be within her grasp.

“ - drives me fuckin’ insane,” her brother is complaining, now, to their cousin Antoni and their new employee, Tiberius. “Never listens to a goddamn word I say - “

“Mario.” Romina turns in her chair to face him.

“What?” he demands.

She raises a dark eyebrow.

He straightens, and appears to compose himself. Much better. “Sorry, Ro. There’s a situation at City Hall that I’ve just been made aware of.”

When he doesn’t immediately go on, she feels a flash of irritation. “Well?”

“It seems that several records were accessed over the weekend - the logs were deleted, but our alert system was set off before they covered their tracks.” A dark look passes over his face. “They were looking into Uncle Vincenzo.”

Romina understands. Vincenzo Rizzuto, her mother’s half-brother, is the name they’ve been recruiting under, a name relatively yet-unknown in Gotham. They hid the real Vincenzo well - Romina had Antoni remove her uncle’s head and hands after he killed him, and since the man had been in the country illegally from Montreal, there should have been almost no way to identify his body. The city coroner’s office hadn’t managed it, but obviously, someone else did.

She taps her fingers against the desk. “How inconvenient.”

Tiberius looks curiously between them. “Think it was law enforcement?”

Antoni barks out a laugh. Romina has to agree - besides, she’s been given the distinct impression that Gotham PD is more than willing to welcome them back into the fold.

Unruffled by their scorn, Tiberius moves on. “Surveillance?”

“Plenty,” Mario says. A vein begins to throb in his forehead. “Doesn’t appear to be tampered with. There’s a camera pointed directly at the terminal that was accessed. Didn’t pick up shit.”

“Ah,” Romina nods. An invisible researcher. This explains Mario’s bad mood. “A meta-human, then.”

“Fuckers,” Antoni grumbles.

Tiberius glances around at them, faint amusement in his pale features. “Can I speak freely?”

“No,” Mario spits, but Romina holds up her hand.

“You may.”

Tiberius cracks his knuckles. “I know your family is more...traditional, let’s say, but you guys aren’t seeing the big picture. A lot’s changed since your grandfather was in charge, not just in Gotham. Meta-humans are a resource. A fucking gold mine. You can hire them, create them, sell them, buy them - as a commodity, they bring a higher return than almost anything else out there. And the scope of the industry is unlimited. The Russians are already in the process of cornering the market in Bludhaven. You could have shipping routes all the way out to - ”

He stops, suddenly, because Mario’s patience has expired. He advances heavily on Tiberius, clicking the safety off on his pistol. Romina wonders idly whether it would be more prudent to buy off or to threaten the city clerk to alter their records. It’s too late this time, but it would do well to have someone in City Hall working for them, in the future.

“How many times,” her brother seethes, “do we have to tell you, Tiberius. We’re taking the metas out. Your freak squad has been running this town for too goddamn long.”

“Hey, they’re not my freak squad,” Tiberius protests, putting his hands up. “I’m just pointing out a business opportunity, shit.”

Antoni looks between them, interested. Romina sighs.

“Enough,” she says coolly. “Mario, stand down. Tiberius, you’ve overstayed your welcome. If I want business propositions from you, you’ll know.”

Tiberius straightens his jacket, glaring around at them all dispassionately. He’ll not last much longer, she thinks.

“Antoni, when are the trucks coming in from Chicago?”

“Should be within the hour, boss.” He grins at her. Romina feels a wave of affection for her younger cousin, all bloodlust and mania. If their grandfather had known him, he would surely have adored him as well.

“Go meet them,” she instructs. “Take Tiberius with you. He should meet our cousin Nicola, since he’s so interested in the family’s shipping routes.”

Antoni grins wider. Perhaps Romina was too careless with her phrasing - if Antoni can tell she means to replace Tiberius with Nicola Viti, then he can probably guess it as well. No matter. With both cousins watching him, he won’t have an opportunity to betray them.

Once they leave, Mario comes to stand next to her, turning his gaze out the window to mirror hers.

“It looks different,” he says, sliding his Beretta back into its holster. “That’s what you were thinking about, isn’t it?”

“It is,” she replies. “But I find that the longer I look, the less different it seems.” And indeed, the view is becoming clearer. The run-down garage two blocks over, its owners tired and brittle and all too willing to sign away to new management. The half-finished housing project, abandoned by the city and looking for a new developer. The drug dealer squatting in its basement, hungry to ally himself with a steady supplier.

After a moment, Mario clears his throat. “We need to get rid of Tiberius. His ideals don’t align with ours.”

He’s right, of course. It won’t do to have one of their own sowing discord among the lower ranks. Romina has made one thing clear in their recruitment process - they’re not making a power play for Gotham’s meta-trafficking trade, not entering into competition with Scarecrow or Riddler or whichever absurd character is putting on a show to engage the Batman this week. They’re eliminating them. Meta-humans and theatrical villains might be an inescapable reality of their world, but Gotham belonged to their family first.

“I’m not ready for you and I to go public just yet,” she tells him. “We need Tiberius for one more thing, first.”

He doesn’t argue. “I hope it’s Susie. You’ve kept her waiting long enough.”

Romina scoffs. “She’s lucky that’s all I’m doing to her, after she disobeyed me. No, I’ll have him fetch her in a few more days. Do you think he’ll suspect the trap?”

“No,” Mario snorts. “He’s too convinced of his own importance. Didn’t even blink when I pulled my piece on him. He thinks he’ll wear you down, eventually.”

She nods, satisfied. “That was my read as well.”

“Is it really necessary, though, to risk alienating Susie?”

Romina purses her lips. “She was instructed to leave no survivors,” she says. “I served her an opportunity to settle a score up on a platter, and she repaid me by doing the exact opposite of what I asked. She knew there would be a cost.”

Mario looks skeptical. “Seriously, Ro, it was just a baby. It wouldn’t’ve even remembered its parents.”

“It doesn’t have to remember.” Romina thumbs over the scar on her wrist, the memento from all those years ago. “I don’t like giving orders to kill children, and I don’t expect Susie to like doing it, but it’s necessary to do. The Maronis left us alive, and where are they now? Scrambling in the shadows like rats, terrified to show their faces. You have to be prepared to hunt the children of your enemies, Mario, or they’ll grow up to hunt you.”

Mario grimaces. “It fucking creeps me out, when you talk like that.”

“It’s something our grandfather understood,” she tells him. “It’s practically colonial.”

“Jesus, Ro.”

She smirks. “Don’t like that comparison?”

“You know I don’t, but you’re right. Fuck,” he sighs. “Fine. I’m guessing you want to put Antoni on it?”

“It can wait, for now.” Antoni is reliable as a triggerman, with no limitations to speak of, but he does have a habit of going off-script, and Romina doesn’t want any more deviations in this particular directive. “As you said, it’s only a baby. It can’t pose a threat to us for some time yet.”

Mario exhales, relieved.

On to more pressing matters. “Do you know, I think it’s time we started recruiting in Bludhaven.”

“I agree,” he says, immediately. “The Russians have been struggling to gain a foothold since losing Intergang. It’s the perfect time to strike.”

“And once we deal with them, the entire canal will be ours,” she muses. “Start looking for someone to run the cement factory, will you? I want that housing project on 15th.”

Mario grins wolfishly. “You don’t think it’s too early for city contracts? We can’t take them out under Vincenzo’s name, you know.”

“No,” she agrees. “But it’s nearly time.”

The view is shifting, the longer she looks. The points of connection are starting to take shape, the lines of power that her grandfather once saw so clearly all leading back into the palm of his hand. Recruitment is child’s play - the people of this city are as tired of the Bats and the Jokers as she is. It’s more than a mission, it’s her birthright. Her father was too foolish and weak to recognize it, but Romina was born with her grandfather’s soul. Now, in his office, with the city laid out before her, she begins to understand how he must’ve felt, back then. She can almost taste it in the air. Gotham is ready to come back to them, and Romina is ready to seize it all.

***

(jason)

“I gotta say, I’m a little hurt,” Roy says, throwing a sideways look at Jason.

Jason’s ninety-nine percent sure he’s gonna follow up with something obnoxious, but he gives him an indulgent glance over his coffee cup all the same. “Yeah?”

“That you didn’t call me, you tool. Why wasn’t I the first person to know about this?! Instead I gotta hear it from Donna, who heard it from Wally, who heard it from Dick!! Not cool, dude!”

Jason feels a headache coming on. They’re out on the balcony outside Dick’s room, and it’s as spacious as a balcony for a single bedroom can be, but it’s starting to feel claustrophobic all the same. “It was need-to-know, okay? I was going to tell you, obviously. In case you didn’t notice, I’ve had a few other things on my mind.”

Roy isn’t having it. “You know how Wally knew? Because Dick called him to ask for advice. Because Wally is a father. Kind of like someone else you guys know, right?”

“I did call you,” Dick says from the balcony doorway. Dani is awake in his arms, and Roy’s five year old daughter Lian is at his side peering up at her in fascination. “You didn’t answer.”

Roy flushes slightly. “Well, without a text, how was I supposed to know why you were calling? I figured it was something like, world-ending-cavalry-calling thing. Can’t blame me for wanting to sit it out.”

Dick nods at Jason. “But you’d answer for him?”

“Hell yes I would. I happen to like him better, no offense,” Roy says, offense clearly intended. Dick rolls his eyes.

Jason doesn’t exactly know what went on between the two of them, except that it happened when he was dead. Roy hasn’t been forthcoming about it, and he’s never bothered asking Dick. Clearly it’s not completely water under the bridge just yet, but Dick looks happy enough to see him, and Roy didn’t even blink at letting Lian run off with him, so Jason thinks they must be starting to make up. Really, it’s the last thing he should be hoping for. Dealing with either of them one-on-one is bad enough. If they get chummy again, he’s done for.

“You’re shit out of luck, then,” he says to Roy, about half a second before he remembers the guy’s daughter is standing right there. “Crap. Uh, sorry, Lian.”

“Daddy says ‘shit’ all the time,” Lian replies, shaking her dark hair back from her face. “Shit is just poop, really, so it’s not such a bad word.”

Dick laughs. “So wise.”

“When can baby Dani learn to talk?”

“Um…” Dick looks at Jason, who shrugs helplessly. “Probably not for a while, I’m guessing. She’s only four months old, so she has a lot of milestones to hit before then.”

Lian tilts her head comically. “What’s mile-stones?”

“That’s just a name for important things that babies learn to do, sweetheart,” Roy tells her. “Things like rolling over, grabbing their feet, sitting up, and standing up. You hit all your milestones right on time.”

“Grabbing their feet? That’s silly, Daddy.”

“Hey, it’s an important motor skill, kiddo. Just as important as first words. You were a foot-grabbing prodigy, so I should know.”

Lian looks proud. “My first word was Daddy,” she tells Jason. “I bet Dani’s will be, too, since she has two daddies.”

“We’re not - I’m not her dad, Lian. She’s not my kid.” Jason should probably just shut the hell up, since he doesn’t think Roy would be too happy about him explaining why Dani is in their care in the first place to his young, already somewhat traumatized daughter.

“We’re just taking care of her,” Dick adds, gently. Lian looks puzzled.

“So you’re babysitting her?”

“Exactly, yeah.”

“Hey pumpkin,” Roy says, reaching over and patting her on the cheek. “We’ll talk about this more later, okay? Let’s not ask too many questions to Dick and Jason, you know how silly Bats are about their secrets.”

“Oh, right,” Lian giggles, looking between them all conspiratorially. “Especially Mister Bruce, right, Daddy?”

Dick raises his eyebrows. “You told your daughter Batman’s secret ID?”

“You wanna fight about it?” Roy asks. His tone is teasing, but there’s a hint of real challenge in his eyes.

Lian looks confused, and Jason takes pity on her. “Guys, knock it off.” He shoves Roy’s shoulder lightly, and shoots a hard look at Dick. “Not in front of the kids, come on.”

Dani, fortunately, diffuses the tension by spitting up in a truly spectacular fashion all over her onesie and Dick’s arm.

Roy bursts out laughing. “Okay, I gotta say, I do not miss that.”

“Did she just barf?” Lian looks horrified.

“No, this is something babies do a lot,” Dick reassures her. “Usually it puts her in a much better mood when she does it, so it’s actually a good thing.”

“Okay…” Lian says uncertainly. “It’s kind of gross.”

“Kind of,” Dick grins. “I’ll just go change her, and, um, wash up.”

“Can I help? Can I pick out her clothes?” Lian looks at Roy excitedly.

“Sure, you’ll be a lot better at picking them out than me,” Dick beams back at her. “Be right back, guys.”

Once they’re out of earshot, Roy turns to Jason. “I didn’t tell her Batman’s secret ID, just so you know. He told her himself a couple years ago, after the attack on Star City. We were all up in the Watchtower, and he didn’t have his cowl...it was such a crazy day, I honestly never thought she’d remember it.”

Jason nods peaceably. “I don’t really give a shit, to tell you the truth.” It’s not quite the truth, actually, but hopefully Roy won’t call him on it.

“Just saying. Anyways, Jaybird, what the hell is going on with you and Dick? Are you fucking?”

Jason almost spits out his coffee. “What?”

“Is it really that weird of a question? You’re living here all of a sudden, raising a baby together, I mean.” Roy tilts his head, looking remarkably like his daughter. “Okay, I guess you’re not fucking.”

“We’re not anything,” Jason says, more harshly than he means to. “Jesus Christ.”

Roy gives him a look of dawning comprehension, which Jason doesn’t like at all. “I see.”

“Do you.” Jason narrows his eyes. “Well, fucking don’t.”

“All right, all right. I’ll cut you a break since I remember what it’s like to be up to your eyeballs in diapers and sleep deprived as hell and being expected to deal with your asshole friends like everything’s normal.” He leans forward to pour more coffee in Jason’s mug. “Talk to me about the kid, then. You said she’s not sleeping very well?”

Jason shakes his head. “She was sleeping great until this past week, I have no idea what changed. Every single noise in the room wakes her up. And if she catches sight of me, it’s all over. She just cries and cries until I pick her up, and she wakes up again if I try to put her down.”

“Damn,” Roy says sympathetically.

“I haven’t gone out in four nights,” Jason tells him, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Dick’s got Russians to deal with in ‘Haven, so he hasn’t been able to take a night off, and I can’t…I just can’t leave her. Doesn’t seem right.”

“You shouldn’t, anyways, if your head’s back here,” Roy says. “Learned that one the hard way.”

“I don’t know what the fuck to do, then. It’s not a fever, she’s not hungry, or wet, she just won’t sleep.”

Roy leans forward. “Listen. This is actually a totally normal, completely awful thing called a ‘sleep regression’ that nobody fucking tells you about before you have a kid. They go through them every couple months, usually before hitting a major milestone. It’s fucked, but it’ll pass, I promise.”

Jason stares at him in surprise.

“What? I know things, fuck you.”

Jason kicks him lightly under the table. Not the best demonstration of thankfulness he could’ve come up with, but it’s all he’s got. “So what do I do, until it passes? Just keep holding her all the time?”

“You could try, but honestly, I think that’ll just make it worse. Do you have a white noise machine?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you tried really cranking that sucker up?”

“Yep.”

“Have you tried putting her in the swing?”

Jason frowns. “They’re not supposed to sleep in there.”

“What, really? Says who?” Roy looks incredulous.

“The fucking American Pediatric Association, that’s who. It says so right on the box. It’s a suffocation hazard.”

Roy’s forehead creases with worry. “No shit? Damn, no one told me about that. I used to put Lian to sleep in that thing all the time when nothing else was working.”

Jason spreads his hands. “Any other ideas?”

“Yeah, actually. Babies have REM cycles, you know, they’re just different from ours. When they’re in a sleep regression, you gotta wait until they’re deeply asleep to put them down. Give it, like, ten extra minutes after she falls asleep.”

“I can do that,” Jason agrees. “Doesn’t do me a lot of good, though, if she wakes up as soon as I fucking cough or unload my gun.”

“Oh yeah?” Roy cocks an eyebrow. “We’re unloading rubber bullets now?”

Jason kicks him again. “Shut up.”

“Shit, Jay. I just can’t believe Dickie is okay with it.”

Jason can’t quite believe it either. He keeps the loaded gun hidden in a shoulder holster under his jacket, but he’s not stupid enough to think that Dick hasn’t noticed.

Roy stretches his arms behind his head. “Sure nothing’s going on between you two?”

“Roy, I’m not having this conversation,” Jason says.

Roy grins. Jason hates that grin. “Alright. So, if she always wakes up when you’re in the room, don’t be in the room. Get a monitor and sleep in Dick’s room. Problem solved.”

Jason takes a long drink of coffee, trying to calm the sudden hammering in his pulse. “Yeah, that’s not fucking happening.”

“Why? If there’s nothing going on between you…”

“Roy,” Jason growls.

“Daddy, look! I helped baby Dani get dressed!”

They both turn to look at Lian in the doorway, standing in a superhero pose with her hands planted on her hips. “Ta-da!” she announces, leaping aside with a flourish. Dick appears behind her, lips pressed together like he’s trying hard not to laugh, Dani presented forward in his arms in a little red dress, red bloomers, and little red socks with white hearts. A little red bow is just visible among her tufts of black hair, and Jason’s heart throbs violently in his chest.

“Wow, sweetie!” Roy opens his arms and gives her a big hug. “Red, huh?”

“I think it’s her favorite color,” Lian says, shyly glancing at Jason. “It’s mine, too.”

Jason swallows. “Where the hell did that dress even come from?” He doesn’t know why he bothers asking, he doesn’t have a clue where any of Dani’s clothes come from. They seem to just materialize in her drawers, and he could probably pinpoint who purchased each item if he laid them all out and put his mind to it, but he finds it’s much easier just not to think about it.

“I don’t remember who got this one, actually.” Dick peeks at the tag. “It’s Ralph Lauren. Maybe Helena?”

“Hey Dick, I was just spitballing ideas with Jason,” Roy says, suddenly. Jason goes to kick him again, but damnit, he’s still holding Lian. Using his own kid as a shield, the fucker.

Dick looks up from bouncing Dani, his eyes widening innocently. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, about your kid’s sleep issues. Jay said she’s startling easily, once she’s down.”

Dick looks at Jason apologetically. “It’s been rough,” he admits. “Sorry, I know you haven’t gotten much sleep either.”

“Apparently it’s totally normal,” Jason says quickly, glaring at Roy. “Roy says it’ll pass in no time. Don’t worry about me.”

“I was suggesting, actually, that she might have an easier time if Jason wasn’t clattering around all the time and waking her up,” Roy goes on, pulling Lian up into his lap. Jason is going to kill him. “You’ve got room, right, Dick? Makes more sense for you two to share so she can get some peace and quiet.”

“Oh!” Dick spares Jason a fleeting glance. “That does make sense...we have the video monitor, after all. You are kind of loud, when you take off your armor.”

Jason crosses his arms. Everyone’s a fucking critic. “Fine. I’ll sleep on the floor, whatever.”

Dick makes a face. “Jason…”

Roy gives him an exasperated look. “What is this, cooties? Are you twelve?”

Lian tugs at his sleeve. “What’s cooties?”

“It’s what Jason’s scared of getting if he sleeps in the same bed as Dick, sweetheart. It’s super silly.”

Dani has apparently had enough of being held on display like a doll, and fusses loudly, kicking out towards Jason and curling both hands up toward her face. Jason can tell she’s a few seconds from a full meltdown - they’ve been coming on faster and faster, since this whole “sleep regression” started. He’s on his feet in a heartbeat, and Dick passes her over without a word. It’s a little terrifying how used to this they both are, Jason thinks as he brings Dani up to his chest. She’s already bigger than the tiny ten-pound bundle that had turned up at the Manor just a few weeks ago, and she’s outgrown the first sets of pajamas they’d put her in. He pats her back soothingly, feels the patch of drool on his shirt that indicates she’s stuffed her fingers in her mouth again. Normally, he’d drop a kiss on her head, but he finds himself reluctant to do so in front of Roy. He doesn’t want Roy to read anything into it - he’s already given away too much during this visit.

“Awww, she’s so cute,” Lian giggles, leaning against her dad. “I wish I could hold her, Daddy.”

“Maybe next time, honey. Baby Dani just wants her grown-up right now. You know how that feels, don’t you?”

Lian nods, looking up at Jason. “Yeah.”

Jason feels ridiculously exposed, under their twin gazes. If it wasn’t for Dani, he’d have jumped over the railing already.

“What are you guys up to for the rest of the day?” Dick asks, rescuing him from their unnerving combined perception.

Roy gives his daughter a nudge. “What are we doing, pumpkin?”

Lian lights up. “We’re going to see Donna!”

“Her favorite,” Roy confirms, grinning down at her. “They’re having a girl’s night, apparently. I’m not invited.”

“Maybe when Dani is bigger, she can come to a girls night with us,” Lian suggests wistfully. Dick looks sad, and Jason doesn’t have the heart to tell her that’s never going to happen.

“Hey, wouldn’t that be fun.” Roy ruffles her hair playfully. “You’d have to share Donna, though.”

Lian pulls back to give him a reproachful look. “I know how to share, Daddy.”

“Sheesh, okay. Anyways, I’ll be around, if either of you needs a wingman,” Roy says, looking between Dick and Jason hopefully.

“I’m staying in,” Dick says. Jason blinks, this is news to him. “Russians are laying low, and no one’s sprung our Falcone cousin from jail yet, shockingly. I know you’re going stir-crazy, so I’ll stay with her tonight.”

Jason feels a surge of warmth towards Dick. He is going nuts, and not just from sleep deprivation. It’ll do him a world of good to get out and get some real exercise, check on all his favorites in the neighborhood and put the fear of the Red Hood back into all the local dirtbags. Tim’s been doing a more than decent job on keeping him updated, and Jason’s grateful, but there’s something to be said for good old fashioned violence when it comes to keeping his people in line. Jason’s itching for it - he hasn’t been back in the field properly for way too long.

“You up for it, Jaybird?” Roy asks. His eyes are practically sparkling - Jason can already feel the beginnings of regret. “It’s been a minute since we teamed up.”

Jason sighs out heavily. “Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Roy laughs. “It’ll be fun! I can impart more sagely parenting advice, you can, um - ” he cover’s Lian’s ears “ - b-a-s-h some s-k-u-l-l-s, it’ll be real therapeutic.”

Lian swats at his hands. “Daddy.”

Jason looks at Dick. “You sure B’s okay with you taking a night off?”

“I’ll make him okay with it,” Dick says grimly. “Besides, I miss her.”

God help him, Jason’s going to miss her too, when he’s out for the evening. Not enough to want to stay in, but damn close.

He looks down at her, dozing lightly against his chest, one round cheek pressed flat, the other drooping onto her curled up shoulder. An image flits through his mind - Dani, older, her tufts of hair grown out long like Lian’s, a wide, toothy smile on her face and her big brown eyes crinkled up at Jason. Calling to him, reaching for him. Daddy. It feels like a bullet piercing his heart, but he can’t stop imagining it. Can’t stop imagining her laughter, the solid feeling of her body in his arms…and someone else next to him, strong hands held out to catch hers, sweetheart sounding out in a voice he’s gravitated toward since he was thirteen years old -

“Jason? You having gas or something?” Roy sounds half amused, half concerned.

Fuck. “Headache,” Jason manages, shoving the intrusive images as far back into his subconscious as he can. God, does he know how to torture himself.

“Well, get rid of it. Imagine how embarrassing it’d be if you got k-i-l-l-e-d by some punk in the Bowery because you were off your game.”

Jason shrugs. “You’d avenge me.”

Roy laughs. “Damn right I would. I’d have to fight Dick here for the honor.”

“To get back at some Bowery punk? Nah, Dickie wouldn’t bother.”

Dick rolls his eyes, but his mouth is twisted with humor. “Hey, I might, depending on how embarrassing your demise was.”

Roy claps his hands. “See, if that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

Dick goes pink, but he looks happy, at least. Jason imagines strangling Roy, to avoid anything revealing coming out of his mouth.

“I’d better go tell little D he’s got my patrol tonight,” Dick says, after a mildly suffocating moment of silence. “I’ll stick a bottle in the warmer for when she wakes up.”

“You are the worst person alive,” Jason tells Roy, once Dick is gone. “The worst. I literally don’t know why we’re friends.”

“Jason’s joking, sweet pea,” Roy grins at Lian.

Lian huffs dramatically. “I know that, Daddy.”

How the hell Roy Harper created such a great kid, Jason will never know. “What are you and Donna doing for your girl’s night?” he asks her, rocking Dani gently.

“So many fun things,” she tells him seriously. “I have a new Lego set, so we’re gonna build that, and then maybe we’ll play princess school? Or animal rescue school, or maybe both...and we’ll definitely watch a movie! And eat popcorn, of course.”

“Of course,” Jason nods.

She smiles at him, her nose scrunching adorably. “What are you and my daddy doing for your boy’s night?”

Jason makes eye contact with Roy. “Well, I doubt we’re gonna have as much fun as you.”

“No,” Roy agrees, tweaking her nose. “I think we’ll still have a pretty good time, though.”

***

Jason’s prepared for the worst, when they arrive in Crime Alley. He’s expecting his safe house to be trashed by squatters, his civilian apartment to be robbed, and all the local hot spots to be generally on fire. Well. Maybe not on fire, it does seem like Tim’s been doing a pretty good job covering for him. But still, he’s not expecting to roll into his territory and find it…quiet.

Roy takes to the rooftops, and Jason goes to the first busy street corner he sees. “Hey, Ginger,” he calls, jogging up to a working girl he’s got a friendly rapport with. “How’s it going?”

Ginger looks surprised to see him, but not unhappy. “You finally remember your address, Hood?”

“Doesn’t look like I needed to, though,” Jason remarks, glancing around. “Your girls are all good? Any problems that require my attention?”

“Aren’t you sweet.” Ginger looks over his shoulder, as though expecting someone to be there. “No Red Robin tonight? Damn.”

Wow, so that’s how it is. Jason’s already chopped liver. “Ouch,” he says in mock offense. “You know, it was me who told him which blocks to keep an eye on in the first place.”

“You can take that white knight shit straight back to wherever you’ve been hiding out, honey.” Ginger sounds unimpressed. He swears he was more intimidating a few weeks ago. She gives him a meaningful look and makes a shooing motion with her wrist. “It’s good to know you’re still in one piece, baby. Now run along, before you scare off all my customers.”

Taking the hint, Jason moves down the block to his favorite bar, a hideous dive run by a neighborhood relic called Mac Deveroux. Back when Jason was a kid, Mac had frequently paid him to make deliveries, taking alcohol and sometimes food to his customers who weren’t in a position to come and get it themselves. Most of the deliveries were superfluous errands that Mac could just as easily have run himself, but he liked Jason’s observational skills, and the real value of the trip was the gossip Jason was able to pick up along the way. Jason has no idea if Mac remembers him - it’s possible he had a dozen kids on his unofficial payroll, it’s equally possible that the years and the drinking have written Jason’s existence out of his mind. But the man is just as congenial and just as all-knowing about everyone’s business as he’s always been, so Jason makes it a habit to visit him and trade information.

“Hey, Mac,” he calls, pulling off his helmet and sliding into a seat at the end of the bar. He doesn’t always order a drink when he comes here, and he’s not planning on it tonight, but Mac seems to prefer talking to him in just the domino. “Been a minute.”

It’s early, so the place is still mostly deserted, except for a handful of local drunks in various stages of stupor. Mac looks startled for half a moment, then pulls his ballcap down and goes back to being inscrutable. “Glad to see you alive and well, Red.”

Why is everyone so surprised to see him? He’s only been off patrol for a week or so, and he was checking in every few days before that. “Some reason I shouldn’t be?”

Mac side-eyes him suspiciously. “Not especially. People talk. That friend of yours - Red Robin - stupid fucking name, by the way - he’s okay too?”

Jason picks up his helmet and switches the comm on. “Red Robin, Red Hood checking in. Are you dead or injured?”

Tim’s voice comes through almost immediately, annoyed. “Uh, no?”

Jason switches it back off. “Yep, still kicking. Pretty sure Batman hasn’t bit it either, but the night is young. What’s with the sudden concern for my well-being?”

Mac shakes his head. “Folks been talking lately, that’s all. Lots of shit about taking down the Bat, all the rest of the capes in Gotham. Can’t blame me for wondering.”

“People around here are always running their mouths,” Jason says dismissively. “Half the time they tell me about it to my face. Since when are you sweating shit like that?”

“Since it started seeming like more than just talk,” Mac says, serious. “I mean it, Red. You ought to watch yourself out there. And be careful who you talk to, too. I appreciate all you done for me, but it’ll be better if I don’t see you in my bar all too often. You need to chat, you’re better off coming in the back.”

Jason recalls how quickly Ginger had hurried him away, and feels his blood run hot with anger. So these fuckers think they can come onto his turf and threaten his people? They’re gonna be needing more than new kneecaps by the time he’s through with them.

He cracks his knuckles. “Right. Let’s go to the back, then.”

Mac meets him next to a stack of boxes behind his delivery door. He pulls out a joint and starts patting his pockets down, looking for a lighter.

“Here.” Jason fishes one out from his coat pocket, tosses it to him. Not like he’s lighting up much of anything these days.

“Appreciate you, man,” Mac says, catching it. “You want?”

Jason shakes his head briefly.

Mac nods, as though he expected Jason to decline. He exhales a stream of smoke. “Gives me a reason to be back here, you know.”

“Sure.” Jason leans cautiously against one of the stacks of boxes. “So, what’s all this chatter that’s got you and everyone else so spooked?”

“Hmm.” Mac takes another long drag off his joint. “Just a few too many mouths telling the same story in my bar, I’d say. I’m used to hearing guys talk big about taking you out. But this is different, they’re all telling the same story about somebody else taking you out. Taking all the Bat folks out, and the Jokers and the Scarecrow gang too. Saying it’s gonna be open season on all the capes and metas in Gotham, that sorta thing.”

Jason really doesn’t like the sound of any of this. “Who’s supposed to be taking us all out, exactly?”

“That’s the thing about it. No one wants to say, I don’t think most of ‘em even know. You heard about that bloodbath down by the docks, a month back?”

Jason tenses. “Uh-huh.”

Mac looks shrewd, suddenly. “You know who did it?”

Jason can tell from his tone that he doesn’t know, but that he’s dying to. “If someone like you hasn’t found out yet, Mac, I think it’s because certain people want it that way. Just like certain people don’t want you talking to me.”

“‘Certain people’ can kiss my ass,” Mac grumbles.

“Here’s a question, totally unrelated,” Jason says. “Does the name ‘Romina Falcone’ mean anything to you?”

Mac stares at him, dumbfounded. “No....Romina? Mario Falcone’s little girl?”

Jason shrugs one shoulder, trying to appear casual. “You heard anything about her being back in town?”

“No…she’s been gone from Gotham for years. Sad story, really. You know it?” Jason does, but since this is a casual inquiry, he motions for Mac to go on. “Her daddy was Carmine Falcone’s son, a real straight-shooting type, good student, honest, the whole nine yards. Never touched the family business.” Another long inhale off the dwindling joint. “When Falcone first went to prison, gotta be over twenty-five years ago now, the Maroni family took over. Mario wouldn’t throw in with them, so they killed him and his wife. The kids, Mario Jr. and Romina, went to live with relatives in Chicago, last I heard.”

A mob orphan, Jason thinks, just like Dani. Except that Romina and her brother hadn’t gone to live with just any relatives - they’d gone to live with the Viti family, headed by none other than Carmine Falcone’s bloodthirsty sister. “So, no one’s heard from her since then?”

“No one heard from her before then, either. She couldn’t’ve been more than eight or nine when all that shit went down,” Mac says doubtfully. “You sure your intel’s good?”

Jason’s deep in thought, suddenly. “Didn’t say anything about intel,” he tells Mac. “Just asking a question. I gotta go, though. Okay if I slip out the door here?”

Mac gestures obligingly. “Hey, be my guest. I’m gonna do myself a favor and forget this whole conversation now.”

Jason snorts. “Good idea. See you around, Mac.”

“Yeah, yeah. Watch your back out there, kid.”

Jason’s out the door before Mac’s parting words echo back to him. Watch your back out there - what was he, eleven? Twelve, the last time he heard those words?

Maybe it’s a coincidence. Or, maybe Mac Deveroux has a better memory than Jason gives him credit for.

He puts his helmet back on. “Arsenal, status report.”

“All good over here, Hoodster,” Roy replies brightly. “Knocked out a handful of drunk and disorderlies outside a Buffalo Wild Wings just now. Didn’t realize the Bowery was so gentrified already.”

Ugh. “Not all of it is,” Jason sighs. “But, yeah. Sure isn’t how it used to be, over there.”

“No kidding. I’m watching this girl steal a souped-up Camero right now. Ran the plates, and based on the owner’s resume, I might let her get away with it.”

Jason snorts out a laugh. “Works for me. I’ll come meet you over there, just give me ten.”

He’s barely made it two blocks when Oracle’s voice sounds in his ear, her tone making him snap to attention at once. “Hood, we have a situation.”

He stops still on a dingy government housing rooftop. “Go ahead, O.”

“It seems Susie Falcone was sprung from jail earlier today - we missed it because her release was processed under another name, but I have the video feed, and it’s definitely her.”

Oh, fucking finally. Jason was starting to think he wouldn’t have a chance to get any real exercise tonight. “You got a name for me?”

“Guy by the name of Tiberius. Albanian, according to Red Robin. I’m running his face through Interpol, but it takes time.”

Jason hops onto a nearby fire escape and swings up to the roof of an office building to get a better vantage point towards the harbor. “Is B gonna crap himself if I take the lead on this?”

Barbara’s quiet for a moment. “Do you care?”

Jason flexes his hand over the grip of the gun strapped to his thigh. “I mean, no,” he starts to say, knowing as soon as the words are out of his mouth that it’s not entirely true. “Just...it’ll be a pain in the ass if I have to fight a whole fucking mafia, plus him, that’s all.”

Oh, incredibly convincing. Jason’s surprised he doesn’t hear her laughing down the line.

“I think you know how to avoid his ire,” Barbara says. “You’re closest, so I’m putting you on it.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Jason adds, feeling more like an idiot by the second. Forget Dick, talking to Barbara always makes him feel about twelve fucking years old. At least she’s not openly judgmental about it. “Hey, Oracle. One last thing.”

“Oh? I’m listening.”

“Can you do some digging into the Viti family? I feel like there’s gotta be a reason Romina came back to Gotham now, when she could’ve made a play for the city years ago. If she’s been in Chicago all this time, it’s probably something to do with them.”

“…Yes,” Barbara says, slowly. Jason hears a flurry of typing. “Since they trade over state lines, that data will be with the Feds…it’ll take me a little while, I’ve got my hands full with some more urgent things right now. But it’s a good idea, Hood. You’ll know more as soon as I do.”

“Okay,” Jason agrees. “Thanks,” he adds, lamely.

She lets out a short huff of amusement, and Jason’s past self cringes at him in embarrassment. “Oracle out.”

Right. Tiberius. Jason’s been waiting for a chance to take on this ostentatiously-named asshole. From his own observations that night with Dick, and from Tim’s reports, the guy is a particularly sleazy type of hired muscle. Fantastic. Jason needs the workout.

He gives himself a shake, and then takes off towards the police impound lot. Within ten minutes, he’s found a suitable bike and is on his way to the East End, changing comm channels in his helmet to call Roy. “Arsenal, are you good to finish up my patrol? I got a lead on somebody in this mob case I need to handle.”

“Wow, Hood. And here I thought we were having a boy’s night.”

“Hey, if nothing’s going on over there, you’re welcome to join.”

“Yeah? Hey asshole, stay down,” he snarls. “Maybe I’ll meet you after I finish up.”

Jason hears a moan and a thud on Roy’s end. “Anybody interesting?”

“Just some model citizen I found trying to drag a passed-out woman into his car. Said she was his girlfriend, but he neglected to mention she dumped his ass two months ago.”

“Break his legs,” Jason proposes, feeling a mild rage rising in his chest.

“Red Hood says I should break your legs,” Roy tells the guy. “It’s not really my style, but I’m just temping over here. You’d better leave town, because if he finds you doing this shit again, you’re gonna wish I took him up on it.”

Please, man, Jason hears in the background. He hadn’t honestly expected Roy to take his suggestion. Turning onto a side street, he hears an alarm start to go off somewhere close by. Robbery, sounds like. Exactly what he’s looking for.

“Alright, I’m starting my manhunt,” he says to Roy. “You’ve got my coordinates if you need to find me.”

Roy makes some kind of hooting sound that Jason takes to be acknowledgment. “Make me proud.”

Jason kills the bike in an alley and parks it under a staircase, slipping a loop of electrified wire over the handlebars. Easy enough to disarm, but he’s not planning to be gone long. The store being robbed is a liquor store, and the goons smashing it up aren’t criminals so hardened that they’ll take any effort on his part to crack. He storms in the front, grabs the first guy, and throws him over the counter. The second pulls a gun on him - he shoots it out of his hand a split second later, then fires three more shots into a glass case of upscale liquor, to fairly spectacular effect. The remaining guys all hit the floor, visibly terrified. Jason holsters his gun.

“Hope you guys don’t mind me crashing this little party you’re having,” he calls, kicking the fallen gun to the side. “I need to find a guy by the name of Tiberius. First one to talk gets to walk away.”

They all goggle at him. “Did he say Tiberius?” one of them whispers.

“We don’t know anybody called that,” the one he tossed behind the counter says.

Jason clicks his tongue. “Wrong answer.” He fires a rubber bullet into the guy’s shoulder, and he goes down. By the time they realize it’s not a live round, he’ll be in the wind.

He holsters the gun again, and turns his attention on the one he’d disarmed. “Your turn.”

“We don’t know where he is,” the guy says quickly. “I only met the guy once. He doesn’t give us orders.”

“Who does he give orders to,” Jason counters, advancing on him menacingly.

“Dealers, mostly? My cousin Zion reports to him, he slings down by the Wharfside Pool Hall. Swear to God, man, I haven’t seen Tiberius since he moved us all off the docks.”

Jason looks around at the wreckage of the store, realizing something. “You guys aren’t robbing this place, are you.”

They don’t say anything. Jason doesn’t need them to - their silence is confirmation enough. They’ve been tasked by Romina and her lackeys to trash this place and force the owners to sell. And now he’s helped them do it. Fuck, this is why he hates mob cases.

Nothing to be done about it now. Once he puts a bullet in Romina’s skull, maybe he can come back and see that these people get their store back. First, he’s gotta find her.

“Be seeing you, gentlemen,” he says, tossing out a couple smoke pellets. “Don’t expect it to be as painless next time.”

It’s a quick ride to the Wharfside Pool Hall, and Oracle sends him a photo of Zion Lee on the way. He finds him immediately, parked on the corner by the emergency exit. It’s a short conversation. Zion doesn’t know where to find Tiberius either, but he does tell Jason where to find his supplier, and once Jason takes a look at the supplier’s rap sheet, he decides there’s not going to be a conversation at all. Kidnapping, trafficking, sexual battery - hell, if Jason can’t find Tiberius tonight, at least he can take his aggression out on this piece of garbage.

He roars up to the supplier’s house on the stolen bike and throws a smoke bomb through the window, the rush of impending violence like fire in his veins. Then, as luck would have it, he sees a familiar muscular figure rushing out the back door towards a Jaguar that’s parked in the shadows at the end of a driveway.

Tiberius, in the flesh. Looks like Jason’s date with this supplier will have to be postponed.

Quickly, he considers his options. The adrenaline junkie in him is tempted by the prospect of a good old-fashioned car chase, but this area is just a bit too residential for him to be strictly comfortable with it. Too bad. He lets Tiberius get to the end of the driveway, and then he shoots out the Jag’s tires. Tiberius returns fire immediately, which, again, is not the most desirable outcome in a residential neighborhood. Jason aims a shot at his firing hand, but the guy is already ducked down and reloading.

Fine. Jason will just have to throw something bigger at him, he supposes. He revs the bike’s engine, kicks off and guns it towards the Jaguar, bailing off to the side when Tiberius stands up to shoot at him some more. The bike keeps going, propelled by momentum, and crashes beautifully into the driver's side of the Jag, knocking Tiberius hard to the pavement when the open door that he’s been using as a shield swings violently sideways with the rest of the car.

He doesn’t stay down, of course. Before the impact is even finished reverberating through both vehicles, he’s hopping back up, more nimbly than Jason would’ve expected, given his size, and taken off running down the street. Jason pushes himself up and hightails after him, the thrill of the hunt making him practically giddy, his heart accelerating with the pace of his boots against the concrete.

Damn, but it feels good to exert himself. Jason’s been cooped up for too fucking long. Tiberius is seriously in shape, and fast, almost as fast as Dick, too fast for Jason to catch without playing dirty. He’s running too hard to aim with any real accuracy at a moving target, but he squeezes off a half dozen shots at the car windows Tiberius is running past, and the resulting spray of breakaway glass slows him just enough that Jason is able to launch a kick at the back of his knees and tackle him to the ground. They tussle - Tiberius pulls a knife and manages to wedge the blade under Jason’s chestplate, but luckily the tip of it catches on the kevlar, and Jason is able to knock it away before it does any real damage. He headbutts Tiberius savagely, breaking his nose and sending him sprawling out over the basement landing of a boarded-up tattoo parlor.

Before Jason can get up and draw his weapon, Tiberius is on him again, fists coming in like hammer blows and seeking out all the soft spots of his suit with frankly impressive accuracy. Jason’s pulse is pounding in his ears, he’s always gotten a kick out of fighting guys that are bigger than him - though, admittedly, most guys he went up against as Robin met that qualification. Fighting Tiberius is a little nostalgic, in that sense.

How did he used to do it? Bruce had taught him all the fastest ways to incapacitate someone, and Jason’s lived enough by now that he can admit that more often than not, Bruce’s way works just fine. Maybe with a few embellishments, depending on the perp. He’d need better footing, but he could do that here. He could snap Tiberius’s collarbone with the flat of his hand, knee him in the balls, and finish him off with a punch to the throat. But before Bruce, before he’d had his street fighting skills polished and streamlined, a younger, scrappier Jason would’ve had a different strategy. Back then he’d had to be patient, had to last out his enemies and watch for the moment they overextended themselves, the moment they let their defenses slip because they were sure they had him. A school bully, taking his attention off Jason long enough to call to his friends. His mother’s heroin dealer, pausing at the top of the long brick staircase to tell Jason not to bother checking on her. Batman, parking the Batmobile in an alley and just leaving it there.

Nostalgia wins, and Jason waits. He takes the punches and waits until Tiberius gets cocky, having landed a few well-placed blows to his ribs under the thickest parts of his armor. He rears up over Jason, sneering, hand going to Jason’s throat, arm fully extended and vulnerable - and Jason moves. He rocks up into a crouch, catches Tiberius’s wrist in his hand and wrenches, shattering the bones in it easily and dislocating his shoulder in the process. Within a couple of seconds, they’re back on their feet, but Tiberius is unsteady, his breathing thick and labored, and Jason takes the opportunity to kick him square in the chest, sending him crashing down into the walk-out landing and through the building’s flimsy door.

Then he follows Tiberius into the basement, and before he can dodge, a bullet catches him right in the thigh. Shit. He’d assumed the gun had been lost back at the car, but he hadn’t actually checked - an embarrassingly rookie mistake, Jesus. His armor stops it, but it still hurts like a motherfucker. “Real cute,” he snarls, stomping on his opponent’s broken wrist and picking up the gun. He debates shooting him in a few non-lethal places, but Dick’s face suddenly pops into his head, and then Dani’s, and the worst of his anger ebbs away. He empties the clip instead, pocketing the gun. “Now that that’s out of the way, you and me, we’ve got a few things to discuss.”

“Fuck you,” Tiberius seethes, curled up and clutching his wrist in pain. There’s blood all over his face, dripping onto the floor.

“Better men than you have tried, Tiberius.” Jason rubs his hands together. “Here, I’ll make it easier for you. I know you’re working for Romina Falcone. I know she’s back in Gotham, and I know she ordered the hits on your old boss, and most of your old coworkers. I know you sprung her cousin Susie out of jail earlier today, and I know she’s got you running the drug trade down here. So don’t bother telling me any of that shit. I just want to know two things: what her endgame is, and where I can find her.” He steps on Tiberius’s knee, puts just enough pressure to make him cry out. “Talk. Now.”

“Get the fuck off me,” Tiberius gasps, kicking out uselessly with his other leg. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, just let me up.”

Jason stands back, ready to kneecap the guy permanently if he goes on the offensive again.

Tiberius sits up, panting. “Shit. Fuck, I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming.”

“Hood, I lost your GPS signal,” Roy says in his ear. “Fortunately, the trail of destruction was pretty easy to follow. I’m on the warehouse roof outside, across the street.”

“She set me up,” Tiberius goes on. “She fucking set me up, that bitch.” He looks up at Jason, shaking his head. “Yeah, Romina asked me to bail Susie out of jail today. Probably so one of you fuckers would come after me. She’ll be pissed as hell that she didn’t get Batman.”

Jason grinds his teeth. “Arsenal, we’re gonna have incoming soon,” he barks into his comm.

“Thank God, I’d hate to get bored up here,” Roy replies easily.

“Whatever backup you have, it’s not gonna be enough,” Tiberius says. “Romina doesn’t take chances. I can’t tell you where she is, couldn’t even tell you the neighborhood. I’ve had two meetings with her at her office, they had me drugged and blindfolded coming and going. Drove for a long-ass time, too, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Fine,” Jason snaps. “So you’ve had meetings with her. Tell me what she’s after.”

“What she’s after? She’s after everything,” Tiberius says bluntly. “The whole goddamn city. Thinks it’s hers by right, because of who her grandpa was. She’s fucking nuts, even for Gotham.”

Everything. Jason turns it over in his head. She’s not just seizing control of the East End, not just the canal, but everything. They’ve got an overachieving mob boss on their hands. Out-fucking-standing.

“I’ve got twenty guys coming in hot, Hood.” Roy sounds tense. “More trucks pulling in. I can take down most of them, but I think they’re just the first wave. We don’t have enough ammo for this.”

“She hates you guys,” Tiberius laughs bitterly. “If you get away, she’s gonna lose her shit. Sucks I won’t be around to see it.”

“A real shame,” Jason agrees, distracted. He can hear the sound of fighting outside. Time to bail. “Who else is - “

“Hood, we have to go, now.”

Jason pulls the gun from his shoulder holster. “If you survive, I’ll be seeing you soon,” he promises, voice low and deadly. The look on Tiberius’s face tells him just how likely he thinks that is, and Jason can’t help but agree. The blindfolds, the errands, the lack of family connection all add up to one thing: disposable. Tiberius is no made man, he’s just a hired hand, and it’s clear Romina has decided to terminate his employment. Jason remembers Tim’s story about Tiberius passing around photos of murdered kids to the grunts at Intergang, and he feels no sudden impulse to drag the guy to safety.

Outside, he and Roy shoot their way through the dozen or so remaining mobsters, Jason aiming as non-lethally as possible. Roy’s taser arrows cut the last few down, and then they hit the street running, down the block, through a boarded up ice cream shop, down an alley, and up to the rooftops. Jason hears a few gunshots below them when they make the jump over a particularly wide gap, but he keeps them running north, away from the harbor and towards the river, hoping to lose their pursuers on unfamiliar turf. It works. Romina may have her sights set on all of Gotham, but most of her henchmen have seldom ventured more than a few blocks out of the territory they grew up in.

After about half a mile, they stop to catch their breath, and Jason sits down to massage his thigh where the bullet had struck earlier.

“How’d you get over here, anyways?” Jason asks. They’d left their bikes in Jason’s storage unit on the west side of Crime Alley, Roy’s borrowed from Dick for the evening. If Roy left the bike next to a shootout, Dick’s going to be mad as hell.

“Helicopter arrow,” Roy deadpans. Jason looks for something to throw at him. “No, I just took an Uber. Grand theft auto’s not really my thing, these days.”

Jason stares at him. “Since when?”

Roy shrugs. “Since Lian started asking questions about it, I guess. It’s just like...whenever she hears about a crime, like finding out why we lock the car doors when we leave it, she asks me all these details about it. Sometimes she asks if I’ve ever done it, and I can’t lie to her, you know? I want to be able to tell her what she wants to hear, which is ‘no, Daddy hasn’t stolen any cars lately’.” He points at Jason accusingly. “Whatever. Don’t judge me. You’re just lucky yours can’t talk yet.”

“I didn’t even say anything,” Jason protests. He objects strongly to Roy referring to Dani as his, too, but that’s probably exactly why Roy did it, so there’s no point bringing it up. “I’ve got a safe house not too far from here, next to a chop shop. Does it count as stealing to Lian if the car is already stolen?”

Roy laughs. “Not sure she can parse the nuance there. How about you do the stealing, and that’s the technicality I can skate on.”

“Fine.” Jason gets to his feet, wincing slightly as his thigh burns.

“You all good?”

“Yeah, just got a lucky shot in. My fault for not checking to see if he still had the damn gun.”

“Hey, at least in the Manor you’ve got all the whole Bat Hospital at your disposal,” Roy grins. “Among other perks, of course.”

Jason is very glad Roy can’t see him blush under the helmet. He was just thinking about how he wants to get back and see Dani - how he’ll need to take his armor off to check out the damage to his leg - how taking his armor off always wakes her up, so he’ll have to do it in Dick’s room - how the offer is on the table for him to sleep in Dick’s bed -

Business appears to be booming at the chop shop, and Jason decides on stealing a flashy little Lexus coupe that makes Roy whistle in appreciation. They drive back through the Bowery, stopping once so Jason can beat the crap out of a bouncer-turned-wannabe-pimp trying to sell girls outside of a gentlemen’s club. Then they get back to the bikes, and he checks in with Oracle to see if there’s any other action they need to investigate before they call it a night.

“I think you boys have stirred up enough trouble tonight,” she tells him firmly. “There’s been surprisingly little action in your neck of the woods, actually. Bludhaven is the hot zone tonight, I sent Black Bat and Spoiler over there earlier to help Robin out.”

“Fingerstripes will be sorry he missed it,” Jason says. “Russians again?”

“Arsonists, this time. At least five of them.”

“Shit. Sounds more like a Gotham thing than ‘Haven.”

“It does,” she agrees. “It feels choreographed, somehow. I’m going to keep looking into it, along with the Viti family. Oracle out.”

Roy raises his eyebrows. “Arsonists, huh?”

Jason snorts in surprise. “You hacked my comm line?”

“Let’s put it this way: Babs let me hack your comm line.”

True enough. “Sounds like they’ve got everything in hand, at least,” Jason says. “Don’t really feel like dragging ass all the way to Jersey’s armpit. You sleeping at the Manor tonight?”

Roy scratches the back of his head. “Thought about it, but I think I’m gonna text Donna and quietly crash girl’s night. Whenever I get shot at, or almost blown up or whatever, I just kind of need to see Lian. Tell Dick I’ll bring the bike back tomorrow.”

Jason nods. “I’ll catch you later, then.” In truth, he knows exactly how Roy feels. He’s dying to get back to Dani as quickly as possible, to see her and touch her and make sure she’s okay. It doesn’t make sense - he’s the one who got shot at, she’s been in arguably the most secure location in the whole tri-state area. But somehow, in spite of his bruised ribs and what’s sure to be a wicked hematoma on his thigh, all he can think about is keeping her safe. He’d walk through fire to make sure of it, he knows without a doubt. Fortunately, all he has to do tonight is make the trek back over the Robert Kane bridge.

Roy gives his shoulder a friendly squeeze, and then takes off in the direction of the old Titans bunker in Robbinsville. Jason parks the Lexus in his storage unit, arms the security system, and then kicks his bike into gear, making a beeline for the highway and the bridge, which will take him back to the Manor, and back to Dani.

***

#jaydick #taking huge liberties with canon over here but yolo #no one disregards canon more than dc herself #i promise the next chapter will have more actual jaydick and less Baby Justifying Plot ;;;;#my fics #heartlandverse

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creepyalienghost · 3 years

Text

From D-class to researcher.

Sammy laid on top of his bed they gave him, hugging the pillow to his chest. He was in pain, scared and alone. It’s been almost three months and almost died four times by these test they gave him, the latest had that beats chopped at his leg. Luckily the pill they gave him healed him. This foundation was dark. He hates the researchers here. These people were evil for testing on humans like this. Not everyone on d class is a criminal. Some of them were innocent and d class were children they got at orphanages.

He wonders where the others are. Norman, Susie, jack and the rest. We’re they also d class? Used for testing or cleaning. We’re they even alive still? What horrors have they seen? What hell have they been though? He tries not to think about them but it was hard when you were locked in a small cell for most of your day. Only being let out for two hours for “fun” or leaving to be tested on.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of the boots of the guards thumping down the hallway as they come towards this way. Sammy wonders if they will pass or if they will l stop in front of his cell. He listened for a moment until they stopped. It was his cell.

Sammy sat up in the bed as the cell door mechanically opened and the main guard stepping inside. “D-68923, get up and come with us.” He ordered.

Sammy followed there instructions, following the main one. The other two followed behind to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid. Sammy wondered what horrible test they’d put him though this time but those questions stopped when they turned the opposite way of the scps. They were taking him someplace else. Now the questions were why? And what for? We’re they going to kill him? He hopped not. He had been obeying every order the guards gave him! It wasn’t his fault he kept almost dying. It was the sick researchers!

The three guards lead the D class subject down hallway after hallway and though a check point to The entrance zone. This zone was more cheerful then the one D-class stay at. The walls were yellow and white and the floors were clearer and shiny. The vibe was more peaceful here. But that didn’t stop Sammy from fearing what’s about to happen.

They lead him down another hallway and finally a small room with a plain table and two chairs on ether side. “Sit there” the guard ordered as he pointed to one. Sammy walked over and sat there as the Guard left the small room and closing the door, locking it.

It wasn’t long before a female agent walked in. “Hello. Mr. Lawrence.” She greeted as she sat her briefcase on the table and sat down in the empty seat.

Sammy’s ears perked at his name. It has been a long time since somebody called him by his name and not a number. It felt nice to feel like a human again. “Hello ma’am.” He spoke.

“I bet your wondering what your doing here, right?” She ask as she flipped open her briefcase then turned her attention on him.

Sammy nodded in response. “Yes ma’am. I am.” He replied then waited to explain the situation.

The agent pulled out a file from her briefcase. “We lost a lot of staff members at one of our sites do to...well. Let’s just say miss fortunes over the last few days.” She explains as Sammy listened closely. “We’re low on researchers. And judging by your file-“she flipped it open. “you were apart of a cult that was into studying these kinds of...things.” She looked up at Sammy.

His mouth was dropped open do to shook. He had long since changed his mind on working here. He wanted to leave this hell of a place. “And if I say no?”

The agent gave him a warning glance. “Then you stay as D class for the remainder of the year. and be eliminated after, Mr. Lawrence.” She replied. “You are not allowed in the real world anymore. None of you are. You are dead to them and we can not let the people know about this place.” She informed. “Besides. You are a criminal. So pick your poison. Stay here and be a lab rat. Or get promoted to researcher.” She leans back and crosses her arms, waiting for him to chose.

Sammy sighs, looking down then nodded. “Fine. I’ll choose researcher”

“Vary wise, Mr. Lawrence” she replied, pulling out a few test packets. “First we need to test your knowledge on these subjects.” She explained. “To see where you are.”

It was a long process and seven different packets from Algebra to Physics and even some history and English thrown in to them. Over all Sammy did vary well. She gave him a few documents for him to sign them she lead him out of the room and to the roof of this foundation, where a helicopter was waiting for them. The two got in and headed off to a different foundation.

Sammy was allowed to watch the Beautiful scenery below which he found magnificent. He come to realize he’d haven’t seen the outside in months and was very grateful. The water, the sun and the Mountain were all gorgeous now.

——-

Once their helicopter landed at the new location, Sammy was escorted out after the agent by a new group of guards. One of them seems to be watching them closely as he followed the agent inside. Sammy figures they’d must of got the information about his pass crimes.

When they got inside the process began. They took his photo after letting him clean up for his level 2 ID. He wouldn’t be a full researcher for a while. They told him he’d have to learn things around here first as a Junior researcher. They also set up his computer access and gave him a new home in the living quarters.

When he got to his living quarter he was amazed at how huge it was. It was nothing like he cell when he was D class. This came with a kitchen, living room and office downstairs and a room, office and a bathroom upstairs. They were trying to get him on their side. “If you need or want anything from the outside world you’d have to ask for it. Other wise you can order it here.” The agent told him. “I’ll let you get settled in, Mr. Lawrence. Your mentor will meet with you tonight.” With that she left him

——

Later that night, Sammy was led down to the researchers section of the foundation, were he meet his mentor and other researchers. “Hello. I’m Dr. Cliff. Your mentor.” The older man held out his hand for him to shake. But Sammy could tell that he and the others didn’t like him. He noticed others stare with judgement in their eyes. He could hear whispers about him. This was going to be hell.

But he cooperated and shook the man’s hand. “Hello. I’m Sammy Lawrence, sir.” He replied.

His Mentor nodded and pointed at a clipped bored on a desk nearby. “Gather your things and follow me. we have a few task tonight.”

Sammy picked up his clip bored and followed his mentor down to Heavy containment. He read the information on the first sheet on the clip bored. There was a list of scps to test and interview. He was a bit afraid to study these entities but he remembered he wasn’t a d- boy anymore. He was on the other side of the glass. He was the one to bring d-boys to get tested on. It made him feel better but also guilty.

The first few ones went by quickly. Sammy watched as the D- class that was chosen got badly injured or died in the process. He felt bad for each of them but he couldn’t help them. He tried to forced his mind and on the thought that they were really bad people and deserved thIs.

By around 9 o’clock they were on their last task of the day. An interview with an scp by the number of 049. Sammy followed Dr. Cliff down the hall to an elevator with a sign of its number and an Arrow pointing down. Dr. Cliff pushed the button for the elevator at the same time as his pager went off. He grabbed it and read it. “Shit...” he said then he turned to Sammy. “Sammy. I have an emergency to take care of. I need you to interview him alone.” He instructed. “Make sure this is recording and here’s a questions to ask him.” He handed Sammy an Recording device and a sheet of paper with the questions on it. “Oh and do not let him touch you.” He warned before running off, leaving Sammy alone.

Sammy wondered what he meant by -do not let him touch you.- as he sighed and stepped into the elevator, pushing the button down. It only took a minute for it lower down and the doors opening down to a darker hallway. Another armed guard was position next to the Elevator as he stepped out. The guard looked down at him sharply and asked for his ID. Sammy showed it to him before being head down the hall and into the cell of 049. Sammy was shocked by how he looked. It reminded him of the grim reaper coming to Collect souls. The ..being looked to be examining of a dead woman’s insides, even the brain was showing.

“Ah. I wasn’t aware we had a new face here.” The being spoke as he wiped his hands with a cloth and sat down at the table. Sammy found his voice to be so calming and charming to hear. How can that be with the way he looked.

Sammy clears his throat to try to match his town. “Y-Yes. I-I am new...” he replied. “I’m Mr. Lawrence.” He held out his hand before remembering he shouldn’t let him touch him, then he pulled his hand back. “Let’s get started..”

Sammy sat the Recording Devicet on the table, between them and pushed the Recording button then he read off the sheet. “This is interview Number....”he stopped and wondered if he should go with interview amount by him or Dr. cliff. He quickly chose him “number one with me, Sammy Lawrence. Junior researcher. Dr. Cliff had an emergency meeting so he asked me to interview the subject SCP -049”

Sammy looked at the entity across from him then back at the piece of paper for the first question. “It says you study something called the pestilence. What is it exactly?”

The entity tilted his head in a curious why. “you don’t know? The pestilence is the scourge! A nasty disease that I strive to cure. But as of yet. I haven’t Been successful.”

Sammy didn’t understand what he meant by curing and what the pestilence was. He didn’t even understand what 049 is. “A-Alright...” he stuttered. “On the the next question.” He again looked at the sheep of paper to read the next question but 049 spoke first.

“Are you nervous, Mr. Lawrence.” He asked in his calm and charming voice. “You seem nervous.”

Sammy looked up at him and shook his had no. “I’m not nervous. I’m just...” he shrugged. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

The doctor leaned in a bit closer. “You can tell me, Mr. Lawrence. I am a doctor after all. Helping is what I do.”

Sammy thought about it then shook his head. “It’s nothing. Let’s continue the interview.” He stated. The doctor didn’t assist any farther and cooperated with Sammy as he interviewed him.

———

Over the months of working at the foundation he’d come to hate it here more and more. He’s coworkers would spit in his food and sabotage his work for being a d class before. He found out they feed kids to an scp here and was sicken by it. What’s worst was that he found out Norman works here with him as a guard but he doesn’t believe him that they would do this horrible stuff to people. He believes the foundation is good. It hurts him but he doesn’t really talk to Norman much from it.

He got to interview with 049 twice a week though. Sometimes alone, sometimes with Dr. Cliff. He learned 049s background and what the pestilence was as well as what 049 does with the body’s they give him. He also learned about his friendship with 035. An scp he hadn’t test on or herd about. Just as 049 learned how much Sammy hated the foundation and missed his friends. He and Sammy would talk for a few minutes each time off Record about what they were capable off and how evil this place was. It even slipped out once that they were forcing Sammy to be here and how cruel they were to him. 049 pitied him and Even came to care for the man.

He didn’t ask Sammy until the official interview was over and Sammy had stop the recording. “Do you desire to be free, Mr. Lawrence.” He ask before Sammy lefted

Sammy stopped what he was doing and gave him a long look before nodding. “I wish I could be free. See the outside again.” He sighed.

The doctor approached closely to him for the first time. “You can.” He stated before adding. “We both can. But first you need to trust me like I need to trust you.” He said. “Do you trust me Mr. Lawrence?”

Sammy slowly nodded after a minute. “I trust you.” He admits

“Good” the doctor replied before telling him

The plan he’d come up with. Sammy listened to the whole thing and agreed to it. They both choose to acted it out tomorrow night. But he had to ack 079 for a favor tonight.

——

The first step he had to do was get his hands on the highest level card. A level five. The doctor told him it would let him in anywhere in the whole foundation building. He knew that the department overseer was the only person to have that level card here. He had to still it before tonight for there plan to work.

It wasn’t that hard to get. Sammy knew where he had it was hiding in the the office. He quickly went in without no

one seeing him, when the overseer was on break and picked the lock on his desk. He grabbed the red level five card from its place and locking back the the drawer then leaving unseen. Step one was done. Step two was next.

Step two was easier since he doesn’t eat with the rest of them. He acted like he was going to eat at his desk again like always but instead he went below to the war head. No one was their protecting it. No searchers and no MTFs. He went over to the edge to look at the warhead and was amazed by how huge and deadly this was. Then he went to the switch and flipped it off before going to his desk for lunch. No he waits for step three. The favor.

As he waited for the night to approach, he did his Normal rounds. Helping Dr. cliff Test D- class on scps like 008 or 096 and interviewing other scps like 030 or D class and doing The reports. He knew it was time when the alarms went off and a voice came on the speaker. “We’re experiencing multiple Euclid and ketter breaches! Get to a shelter immediately!”

Sammy grabbed the level five card and ran out of the office he was In. It was a mad house. Researchers running everywhere, screaming. D class cells began opening and scp were running ramped. MTFs were shooting at the scps and d class or running for their lives from scps. Sammy saw scp 096 chasing someone down and looked around away fast. He had to go quickly for there plan to work.

He ran down the hall after hall to the elevators leading down to 049 cell and got in, pushing the down button. He came face to face with 049 who waiting right in front of the elevator doors when they opened. Sammy could see the fate of the MTFs behind them. Their skin rotting off and their eyes glazed. The site of the “cured” still made him uneasy. “We should go before we miss our chance Mr. Lawrence” he reminded hi

Sammy nodded, getting back on track with the plan. “Right... Let’s go.” He nodded stepping aside for 049 to step it and pushed the button up once he’s in. Sammy waited anxiously as the elevator road up towards the commotion going on.

The elevator reaches the floor and opens its doors but this time Sammy was faced with the end of a gun. His eyes widen in fear, looking straight at the end, ready for the blast. But it never came. Instead the MTF holding the gun lowered it and took off their helmet, revealing their face.

“Sammy...” Norman said in surprised. Them in confusion once he saw 049 next to him. “What’s going on?...” he ask looking between Sammy and 049. “Sam. Is he making you do something?”

Sammy shakes his head. “No. It’s nothing like that norn-“

Norman raised an eyebrow in question. “So what’s going on then?..” He asked Sammy. Sammy didn’t know how to explain it to him. He knew Norman liked it here and didn’t believe him. So he kept his mouth shut and looked at the floor. “Your escaping aren’t you?” Norman ask. “With this monster!”

“Norman his not a monster-“ Sammy tried to explain to him but Norman wouldn’t listen to him.

Instead Norman pointed the gun back at Sammy’s face and placed his finger on the trigger. “If you wanna join the monsters then fine! Prepare to be treated like one!” Norman warned. But he saw the fear in those blue eyes. The same fear their old boss caused him. What was he doing? Why was he doing this to the one he swore to protect first? It was Sammy before he took an oath for the foundation.

Sammy watched his face hard in thought. Was he going to kill him? Was he really thinking about that? Sammy watched in fear Until a man in a mask leaking black liquid from its mouth and eyes came up behind Norman and knocked him out. “Your friend?” Sammy ask 049.

“Ah. Yes, indeed!” 049 replied with a nod.

Sammy knelt down to Norman as the two scp were greeting each other in this mess he created and checked Norman. Thank the gods he was still alive and breathing, just out cold. “We should go now. More MTFs are coming” the guy with the mask informed them both. Sammy nodded then kisses Norman on the cheek, taking his gun and leaving with them.

All three of them were successful in their escape, with little interference from other scps and MTF. But it wasn’t long before the foundation tracked them again after reports of zombies, missing people and a blonde short man being seen near houses of those missing people.

They were found in a month later living in an abandoned apartment. When the foundation arrived there they all Surrendered easily. The foundation had decided to split the two scp from each other. 049 went back to site 19 but 035 went to an undisclosed location. Sammy was spit from 049 as well. However they sent Sammy to a location to be brainwashed for there use. However the ride never made it to that location. When the foundation went to investigate they found everyone dead. But no Sammy.

#sammy lawrence #scp 049 #scp foundation #bendy and the ink machine

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crystal-soba · 3 years

Text

Susie x reader

. Susie's life hasn't been the same without you. She missed you every moment she spent in the realm of the entity. Sure she had her best friends with her, and she did have fun. But still she felt something missing from her life, she never told anyone for fear they'd think of her as weak. They'd tell her to move on and forget about you. And to some degree it made sense, if you were here that would mean that she would have to... No, she wouldn't. She could never hurt you. She needed you with her, she could feel her sanity draining with every moment of slashing and killing. If you were here it wouldn't matter to her. The group must have noticed her not so bright and cheerful mood lately. She sat on the edge of the broken railing for the balcony holding her knife and staring down at the snow. Alone. With no one around. The others were probably busy.

.You walked around with posters of your missing friends, Susie, Julie, Frank, and Joey. Other people assumed that they ran away, but you knew that they wouldn't leave you behind. Especially Susie, you missed her the most. The past few weeks were emotionally draining without her by your side. You weren't able to get an hour of sleep, you've missed days of school. The pain and nervousness caused you to throw up, you often get caught up in overthinking making the whole situation worse. It never stopped, what if they were dead. They might of been too reckless and crashed. Your panic came back, you needed a break.

.You sat on the bench Infront of the block busters. Your song came on. Well it was Susie's and your song, the song you were playing when you bumped into her. You couldn't help but remember the place you would meet her. The ski resort... The ski resort? You hadn't checked on it in a few weeks now, maybe she was there waiting for you. Although you never got a text back from the countless calls and messages you sent her, they might be at the abandoned resort.

.You ran to the resort, not stopping for a second to catch your breath. Your legs and arms begged you to take a break, but you didn't listen. As your lungs burned from the cold air you noticed the feeling of a strange aura coming from the area. The building felt stranger... empty. It looked the same, but it felt odd. The air felt off, not it's usual fresh self. You looked around the outside for any clues, nothing. And when you went inside you couldn't remember weather or not the building always looked this messed up... sure they got a little rough with some of the furniture, but now everything looked more frantic and speraticly thrown around. Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you. You needed to rest, calm down for a second and have time to really think. Plus, maybe they'll come back at some point. Nothing wrong with trying. You started a fire with the small fireplace, luckily there was still a small box of matches on the mantle. No footprints, no sign of anyone being here, dust covered the box of matches you used to light the fire. It was unlikely they had been here.

.You stared Into the bright flame while over thinking again. All the horrible possibilities and explanations for the missing group. Susie would usually be able tell when you started to get like this, she'd calm you down no matter how hard or bad the anxiety got. Your not sure how long you could really make it through life without her. At this point she was the only person who cared about you. You relaid the moment of crashing into her in your head, closing your eyes. She was beautiful, her pink hair and wide smile. Eyes teal, pure and angelic. She was wearing her silver nose piercing and black choker with her nails painted black. It made your stomach fill with butterflies when she held her hand to you, when you accepted it she only widened her smile and showed her silver braces. And you probably looked like a stuttering mess the whole time. It was a nice few hours of ice skating with her on the pond a block away. Eventually you were introduced to her friends and they tolerated you. More and more hangouts and movie nights lead to the both of you to start dating. She's the beam of light through the dark night, your knight in shining armor.

.You slowly drifted off to sleep, the fire added to the only bit of comfort you had with thinking about Susie and the others. But your eyes got heavy and you felt tired, you couldn't stop the overwhelming exhaustion. Instead of fighting it, you let it take you. Hopefully bring you a few hours of sleep.

.Of course waking up in a wooden shack was not expected. You didn't understand who or what brought you to the rickety old wooden shack, but it wasn't good. You stood up and looked to see a basement next to you. You slowly walked down the creaking wood floor boards to figure an explanation. You peeked around the corner to see four meat hooks. Blood everywhere and the sound of screams coming from nowhere. Needles to say you ran out of the shack. You were still at the resort. Only it was darker, a brick snow covered wall surounded the area, and strangely placed walls with windows were put in strange spots. More meat hooks could be found scattered around the outside of the resort. Walking into the resort blood smears on the floor boards and strange pallets didn't exactly sit well with you. You ran outside past the locker room, in search of an exit.

.All you found was a large metal gate with a electric switch. You pulled the switch as hard as possible, it didn't budge. You sighed and started to look for a new exit. You did take the possibility of somehow climbing up the tall brick wall, but your thoughts were cut off from you when you heard something running towards you, your heart rate shot up with no explanation for why it's so loud. You of course booked it, not knowing where it is your running to but just running. Whoever it was, they were gaining on you.

."(Y/n)!?" The voice made you stop dead in your tracks. You whipped around to look back. "Susie?" A mask made of gaps of wire and nails, pink smooth hair, and a dirty Fairview hoodie with -1996- printed on. Definitely Susie no doubt. You both ran to each other, you knew your eyes were starting to water. She jumped into your arms as you caught her hips. She ripped of her mask and let it drop to the side, after weeks of not seeing her it almost felt like a dream to see her again. She seemed to agree as she leaned into a kiss. It felt like every burden you carried was lifted from your shoulder, every worry and guilt you've been feeling was cleansed.

.When you two stoped you both took a second to look at each other a second time. Her expected scent of her usual perfume had faded and instead smelt faintly like dried blood. You gave her a worried look when you saw the sleeves of her hoodie had blood stains. She gave you a soft smile and cupped hand to your cheek to show she was okay. Neither of you said anything as you walked into the resort. Of course the place looked about the same from when you you feel asleep, except for the occasional blood smear on the wall or floor. "...What...What happened." You were almost scared to ask.

.You both sat at the bar next to each other, most of the chairs were broken with either legs missing to be used for fire wood. "We all woke up here in the lodge together, but things felt different... We started to hear things. We started to see things. It's like a supernatural being called the Entity... It asked us to complete certain things, almost like a game. We weren't alone, another group called ''Survivors'' were there... Well we listened to what the entity told us to and..." She looked down at the floor, avoiding your gaze. She didn't have to say anything more about it for you to understand what happens next. You pulled her into a hug, letting her cling onto you.

."How is the rest of the group?" She took a second to think. "Well they're fine. It's like there's nothing wrong. The only thing wrong is when they don't do enough for the entity and it gets displeased with us. But they're fine." You nodded, you grabbed her hands to hold them in yours. They were cold and scratched up. "You look a bit tired. Do you ever sleep?" She had faint dark circles under her eyes, not makeup of course. She nodded "sometimes, I've been problems sleeping lately...I can't sleep unless your next to me..." Pink blush spread through her cheeks, the both of you cuddled but neither of you slept with each other. Your face also changed in hue, you weren't going to say no.

.You followed her up the stairs with broken pieces of railing and let her lead you to a private room. It wasn't much, but you can't expect a fully furnished room from this place. An old hotel bed with knife carvings covering the frame and a broken lamp. The lights didn't work and the walls wallpaper was starting to peel off. You guessed Frank or Joey must have punched a hole in the wall at some point, and graffiti covered one side of the room. "This is it. The only other place to sleep on is the couch downstairs." You nodded while starting to settle down with her in the bed. It dipped in the middle and the springs made it uncomfortable, the mattress could be compared to sleeping on the hardwood floor. But either way, it was a bed. You stared at the back of the door for a second, the word legion carved over and over again into the wood.

.It sent butterflies to be holding her as both of your breathing patterns synced together. You held her close to you, holding her waist with your legs tangled together. She had her face near your chest listening to your heart beat slowly beating to a march. Everything felt right, like nothing mattered more than the two of you. You didn't care if the group came back to see the both of you in such a soft moment. Everyone was safe, and really that's all that matters to you. You both felt the warm embrace of sleep follow as you played with each others hair silently. Before you went to sleep you could hear the faintest "I love you" slip from her mouth before she also fell asleep, it may have been the best nights sleep you have ever had. All the worry and anxiety left when you had each others company, everything would be alright as long as she was by your side.

#dbd x reader #fanfic #fluff #oneshots #reader insert

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ajokeformur-ray · 4 years

Note

Ok so I have a joker request if you are taking them. Could you please do a headcanon for Arthur finding his s/o hiding in an alley during the riots cus the apartment got overrun and she had to escape, but when he finds her she is scared of him but tries to hide it. Sorry if this doesn’t make any sense.

I changed this up a little, I hope you don’t mind! It’s just what I have in mind is a little different in regards to the reader’s fear.

Okay so we got - swearing, smoking, rioting, moral flexibility (something I have so there’s a tiny bit of self-insert in here woops lmao), blood mentions. All pretty tame but I thought I’d tag them anyway! You never know.

For me, this GIF says one thing: wear your inside on the outside. Also, this poor man didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this, but that’s a separate headcanon set I already wrote and cried over lmaooo.

Quickly did the riots in Gotham City grow out of control.

There were police cars stationed everywhere; window screens bashed in, blood running down car doors as passengers had been killed immediately or knocked out upon impact.

Fires and fireworks, smoke bombs and smoke grenades all made Gotham a blaze of light, of colours and yes, it was pretty and it made you feel oddly happy, giddy, to see such a shitty city burning, but you were also terrified.

Before Arthur had left for his performance on the Murray Show, he had told you to pack two bags: one for him and one for you.

In the event that anything should go wrong, he had said.

You couldn’t have known how right that wrenching in your gut had been when it had told you to run, to run and to never look back.

But you couldn’t, wouldn’t do that to Arthur, and so you had packed both of you a bag each; with your precious possessions and a spare change of clothes, your spare apartment keys and anything else which you could think of.

You had left them by the front door, again as per instructed (you didn’t know where this confidence had come from, but you liked it more than you probably should).

Hours later, when Arthur was a wanted man and you had finished crying out of shock, fear and horror, the apartment building had been overrun as people who had fallen into the trap of mob mentality had taken out their frustrations on innocents.

Really, they were no better than the people they wanted to burn, but who were you to say anything?

So quickly had you grabbed your bags, having somehow successfully fought off the person who had tried to get in through the door, locked the apartment - it would probably be broken into but you hoped that the lock would hold itself - and done something you have should done earlier that day.

You ran.

Literally lost - in the fog, smoke and in the panic of tonight’s events had you gotten quite lost in the city you had been raised in - you had found an old dumpster and huddled behind it for safety, hugging your knees to your chest.

One thought kept you from going completely fucking mad. Just one.

Where was your Arthur?

His name was a soothing mantra in your mind, your eyes roaming about the place.

All you could see was the back of the grimy bin, the wet and dank wall making your clothes stick to your back.

Later would you feel grossed out by all the bacterium that you were surrounded by.

For, now, though -

A staggering figure dressed all in red.

A blood red grin from ear to ear.

Whistling that sounded like That’s Life.

“Arthur!” A hush of joy had fled your lips before you could stop it and the figure had stopped, whirled around desperately.

He was looking for you. His one.

He had heard you, somehow, over the utter chaos of the street.

“Y-Y/N?”

You sprang up, your cold joints aching in protest as you made your way over, holding your arms out like a child begging to be held.

It was as accurate a simile as any, in truth.

“Arthur!” You ran to him, your arms immediately throwing themselves around his neck.

“It’s Joker now,” he murmured, his arms coming to hold you tightly.

He kissed your hair, your face, again and again. He smelled of blood, the metallic tang tainting his every kiss. He smelled of greasepaint and a little of sweat, but underneath all of that could you still smell him.

“No,” You shook your head, moved to cup his injured face in your hands. “You’ll always be my Arthur, no matter what the world sees you as.”

A watery smile, a grateful kiss to your forehead.

He knew you would understand.

Green eyes sharpened as Joker realised you weren’t home. “Why did you leave the apartment? You didn’t listen to me! Why does no one listen?”

“I did.” You rushed to defend yourself, cheeks burning. “The apartment - someone got in. I fought them out, somehow, locked the door, and I got scared and I just wanted you, and - “

“Shshsh,” arms around you again as Joker held you protectively to his body, his eyes darting about the streets as he comforted you with quiet shushes.

Joker was hurt - a head injury, the cut on his lip, bruises all over his body, and you - if you were hurt in any way then he really would werewolf and go wild.

You were the only thing he had left to lose.

He had to get you both home.

He saw you had the bags - that was good. He hoped you had packed his contingency plans.

You had. You were clever enough to put bits and pieces together; a cryptic comment here and there laced throughout your days with Arthur had all formed into a whole tapestry in your mind.

“I’m so scared,” You mumbled, half to yourself and half to Joker.

“Of what?” A sharp question.

You clutched at him feeling his shoulder blades through his suit. You held onto them, finding comfort in the familiar parts of Arthur that you could reach.

“You.”

The word was out before you could stop it, before you could articulate properly, and Joker froze in your arms.

He went totally still. He stopped breathing. He stopped blinking. Time came grounding to a halt.

A broken whisper.

“You’re scared of me?”

You stepped back, stepped away, seizing both of his hands in yours.

Look at me, your grip told him.

He looked like he was going to be sick as he met your eyes, green swimming with unshed tears.

“I meant to say that I’m scared for you, not of you. Silly man,” You stepped closer again, pressing a kiss to the back of one of his hands, “How could I ever be scared of you?”

Joker’s brow creased as he struggled to understand through the exhaustion of all that had happened this night.

Finally did he realise what you were trying to say and the sick expression on his painted, bloodied face mutated and turned instead into a smug grin.

So fucking perfect, he thought.

“They won’t find us.”

“Let them try,” You grinned, “They got what they deserve. It’s our turn, don’t you think?”

A joyful laugh.

You closed your eyes, cherished the sound, and when again you opened them did you find Joker closing in on you, to seal your promise with a blood stained, metallic tasting kiss.

Arms came around you, squeezed you into his embrace, and together did you take a few moments more to simply be.

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z @x-avantgarde-x @insomniabird @mavalenovaninagavi @itwasrealenough @morrisonmercurymalek @rand0ms-fand0ms @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing @rebs-doom @vivft @help-i-am-obssessed @autumnaffection @taintednihilist @vladtoly @mg-woolf99 @misstgrey92 @that-s-life @dopey-girl-blogs @seeking-dreamland @sweetheart-syndrome @heartxfdesire @xmusichealsthesoulx @0callmejude0 @the-one-that-likes-riddles @hannibalsslut @folliaght @freeeshavacadoo @bingewatchingmylifegoby @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything @okamiredfoxx @sp0okysp0oky @the-pandorabox @mardema @jibanyyan @honeyflvredcoughdrop @emissarydecksetter @jokerfleckk @epidendroideae @chuuntas @stillmabel @pumpkinpeyes @onehystericalqueenposts @the-jokers-wolf @nalsswa @justahyena @arianatheangelworld @soullessblondbitch @gothamslittlejester @twentyonestarrynights @sirianfromsixties @kissmeclownman @joker-is-my-hero @lazyloosah @lovesickkloxx @ladylovelyluna @live-love-loki @clownerybbxx @tragicarthur @anmach123 @rommie-chan @arthurflock @lucyboytom @anti-peach @ immortal-bi-bitch@hearthurfleck @crazieroutthere @curlystark @hailmary-yramliah @sagyunaro @playinthedarktillitsgoldenagain @jokeringcutio @xenthefox @mijachula @stcrrynightsinneverlcnd @cheyennejonas22 @mrjfleck @pauli1100 @smitten-susie @actualkey @callmejokerfleck @jaylovesbats @itsforyoubitch

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edenvhs · 4 years

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So I decided to send the first chapter of my fanfiction here, since i dont really get that much criticism over on my discord servers, so... Here ya go! I hope you enjoy. Also if you have any names for the fanfic please give me ideas, it will help greatly, thank you!

Strong language ahead, also i tend to write a lot so beware for a good read!

Chapter 1: New Kid [Susie’s Perspective.]

The bell rang in the girls ears, a sound she heard every single day at the exact same time every single day, but yet she ignored that bell on purpose. Being on time was something Susie never did, and never got in trouble for. She’d just look at old Alphys and she’d start sweating. How cowardly. See, Susie wasn’t the type of girl to be messing with. Her height, for starters, was stupidly tall, towering over most teachers at the damned school, and sometimes she has to bend down to get in classes, which would have been embarrassing if she were someone else. But of course, Susie was the bully of the place. No one dared to even step foot anywhere near her. Not even if she was doing something bad, like what she was doing now, which was stealing chalk from the cabinet of another empty classroom. She wasn’t stealing it to write with, oh no, chalk was in fact her favourite snack to have. Especially the strawberry ones. So she took one, and bit it in half, concealing the box in her front trouser pocket. She sighed, “Suppose it's time to pay that Alphys and her dumb class a visit.” she grumbled, closing the door and trudging along to class. Closer and closer the door came, closer the noise was. “Huh, looks like Alphys here cant keep her classroom quiet. Better teach those twerps a lesson or two about being quiet for ya teacher huh.” she laughed to herself before swinging the door open, and what greeted her was silence, scared staring classmates…

And a new kid.

Huh. “Psssht. Looks like an absolute nerd to me.” she thought, before shooting the new kid a look, before sitting in her seat at the back of the class. The small teacher, standing behind her desk, looked as if she were sweating. “W-well… as I-I was eerr, saying- Um, welcome our new classmate, Noelle Holiday!” Alphys stuttered, clearly still shocked by Susie’s grand entrance. The girl who’s name apparently was Noelle, didn’t seem so shocked, just nervous, looking down at her feet, extremely red in the face. Susie leaned back in her chair, one foot on the desk, raising an eyebrow. “This kid aint gonna survive a day if she even tries talking to me.” Susie muttered to herself, chuckling quietly. “H...Hey everyone..” Noelle squeaked, “Erm, M-my name is Noelle a-and i um, i really like writing. Hope w-we can a-all be friends.” she waved rather awkwardly, as the class, of course other than Susie, said hello back. She just rolled her eyes, averting her eyes elsewhere. Well, there wasn’t much to look at, just poorly plastered walls and white plain ceiling. There were windows but today wasn’t as nice as the last, it was all grey and dreary outside, clouds looming over the city like a blanket. Sounds like it will most likely rain soon.

“Erm, w-why don’t you take the umm e-empty seat next to Susie? I-I heard y-you are great at helping people with their work, so um… perhaps Susie could need some help in the f-future?” Alphys anxiously looked between Noelle and Susie, laughing a little nervously too, gesturing Noelle to walk to her seat. The class quietly muttered between each other, watching Noelle walk towards the desk rather sheepishly, as if she were walking towards literal death itself, though Susie was sometimes compared like that, compared to others. It was something she got used to, something that never really bothered her. Though what did bother her was the fact that Alphys likes to think that Susie wants the kid’s help. She didn’t get a say at all. But she just stared at the girl walk towards the seat, before looking back to the front of the classroom.

And there was the second bell, meaning class had officially started. Another dumb wasted day full of pointless shitty lessons, which obviously, Susie was gonna—as always—do absolutely nothing in. Waiting for the bell for lunchtime. Until then, she would lean against the wall on her chair and wait, listening to rain which began to gradually patter softly against the window.

…

And there it was, eventually it came around, and everyone walked out of their seats and into the cafeteria to eat, except Susie of course. She stomped along to the empty classroom again, as she usually did. It was peaceful there, oddly enough. Even brutes like her liked the peace and quiet sometimes. She shut the door, and walked to the old teacher's seat. She always found it weird that teachers got better seats than the students, even though students would do all the work. Surely the students were better than them? Susie liked to think that, that she was better than everyone else, because she is in her mind. Everyone was just pebbles beneath her feet. No one gave a shit and/or was scared shitless of her, so why should she care about those fools? She sighed again, sitting on the windowsill, watching the rain. It was nice, to be honest. Soothing. Rain was her favourite weather, besides thunderstorms. Just sitting there, listening to something for once. She was never angry during those times, she was calmed by the soft pitter patter against the windows and on the concrete roads. Sometimes, she’d sneak outside to sit in the rain at night. She’d gain attention just sitting there, with no hood on in the rain, but did she care? No, of course not. So she sat, looking rather bored watching the grey clouds slowly move across the skyline.

That is until the door opened, and the petite figure of the new kid, Noelle stepped in the classroom, shyly shuffling on her feet.

Susie exhaled heavily in annoyance, standing up, looking at the girl. “So. You’re the new kid, huh.” Walking over to a desk near Noelle, leaning against it. “A-are you supposed to be here..?” Noelle mumbled, still looking down. Susie angrily replied with, “No. Why does it matter, twerp?” folding her arms. “What, ya gonna run to old Alphys and tell of me, squirt? Now listen here, she ain’t gonna do shit, and you. YOU ain’t gonna do shit either, capiche?” she walked over, standing directly in front of her, looking down at her in annoyance and anger. “Got anything to say, huh?” she tilted her head, watching Noelle’s cheeks flare, her body scrunch up and shake in fear. Suddenly, Susie got closer, muttering, “I know you don’t know me, and trust me, you should be glad ya don’t but…” her hand grabbed Noelle by her checkered jumper and slammed her against the door. Susie’s piercing yellow eyes looked down at Noelle, full of vexation, growling:

“Quiet People PISS me off.”

“And do you know what..” she chuckled, “You are really pushin’ your luck here. Not even a yelp, huh? I give ya a week kid, and you’re outta this place.” Susie noticed Noelle’s teary eyes, shaky body and very red and embarrassed face and loosened up a little, letting go of the girl. “You’re lucky that I actually do have a heart and didn’t bite your face off.” she backed away, turning around and opening a box of chalk and picking out a blue piece of chalk, biting it in half. “Just get outta my sight squirt. Don’t even try coming in here ever again, ya got that?” she grunted. After a few seconds, she heard the door shut, and no Noelle in sight. Susie sighed. sitting on the desk, staring at her hands. Even though she was an emotionless brute of a girl, she did feel bad for the new kids. They were fresh meat, easy to pick on, needing to be taught lessons. But that kid didn’t even fight back. Didn’t even yelp in fear, just bottled her feelings inside. What, did she think she was better than her? Psht. There was no way in hell. But for a few moments Susie felt confused, the kid seemed odd, seemed different. She didn’t know what it was. Just… A gut feeling. Perhaps she shouldn’t have done that—No. She should have. She disturbed her, right? Ghn..

Jolting her back to reality was the bell, indicating the last lessons of the day would begin, then it was time to head back home, the same thing she did everyday. Great. She snarled at the ringing sound, banging the empty classroom door open, disturbing some younger kids who were making their way across the opposite way Susie was heading. Back to class.

END OF CHAPTER 1.

#fanfiction #deltarune #writing #susie deltarune #noelle deltarune #susie x noelle #fanfics

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youllallriseintheink · 4 years

Text

Breaking the Time Loop chapter 12: Closure

The group found themselves in a hallway painted blue. "Where are we?" Lacie asked.

"Right outside Joey Drew's apartment," Henry answered.

"Perfect. Now we can bash his teeth in," Lacie returned, cracking her knuckles.

"Yeah," Susie agreed, "I'd love to give him a piece of my mind. I'm not leaving until he knows how bad he hurt us!"

"Or," Grant said, "we could handle this like adults and sue him for every penny he has."

"Well, how much could that be?” Bertrum asked, “We already know his empire fell. How is he doing, Henry?"

"Terrible. He's broke, sick, stuck in the past, and looks ten years older than he is. He's miserable."

"Then I say the world gave us all the revenge we could need. Let us be off."

"Yeah. I'll take you guys to a police station to connect you with your living family members so you can get back on your feet. But first, I need to go in there. He has some things I need." Henry stopped before the apartment door and took a deep breath. In the last few days, he’d done a plethora of neigh-impossible things. He’d come to think of himself as brave. But this was the moment of truth. If Joey said those evil words: “Henry, come visit the old studio. There’s something I need to show you,” then he'd be walking into that studio in a trance, just like every time before. It would all have been for naught.

A hand touched his, making him realize that it had been shaking. He looked back to see it was Sammy. “Scared, Henry?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? He must be like a hundred years old by now, right?

Henry smiled nervously. “Yeah.”

“I could come in with you. I want to be the one who handles the dimensional stuff anyways. It's my people, after all. I could even go instead, and ask for your things for you.”

“Thanks,” he said, “And sure, if you want the church to be your project, I'll respect that. But no. It's not about the things, Sammy. Until I face him, I won't know if this is truly over. I won't know if he still has power over me. And yes, it has to be alone.” Henry would never forgive himself if he let Joey hypnotize them both and throw them into the time loop.

Henry collected himself, entered, and marched right through Joey’s apartment. Joey looked up from his book, a look of awe and appreciation on his face. “Henry. You’ve finally done it. You’ve found the optimal ending. Oh, thank you so much! I would never have been able to save everyone without you.”

Amazingly, Henry could still muster some exhausted awe at how twisted Joey’s mind was. “You know what?” he began in a firm, but even voice, “I’m not even going to address every twisted detail of what you just said. I’m here for two specific things, and then I’m going to leave. Please don’t contact me after that.”

Joey’s face fell.

“First, I want the rights to Bendy’s character.”

“He hasn’t made money since-“

“I’ll tell you why I want it if and when I decide to.”

“Okay,” Joey conceded, and slowly began getting up from his chair.

Henry was still jittery- whether that was from nervousness or anger he couldn’t tell. “I’ll get it!” Henry cut in. He couldn’t have stood staying still any longer. “Where is it? And don’t tell me you didn’t keep it.”

“It’s in my filing cabinet.”

Henry knew the man’s home from having gone through it in his last two loops. He knew where that was. Thankfully, the cabinet was well-organized and he found what was looking for quickly. He took out a pen, crossed Joey’s name out and wrote his own before returning to the living room. “Alright. I don’t know what needs to be changed here, so you’re doing it for me,” he ordered, his confidence finally building up. Joey wordlessly obeyed.

As Henry watched, the realization settled in that this was actually happening. Joey wasn’t going to say those words. His confidence bloomed into boldness. Henry took a seat across from Joey, looking on as a king might look upon a subject. “After you’re done that, you’re going to write a letter of apology to Bendy. You messed him up pretty badly by isolating him in the ink machine for years. That would be considered torture if you did it to a human being. On top of that, you convinced him that everyone would hate him until he drastically changed his appearance. That is not okay.”

“Well, was I wrong? What should I have done with him? He was an abomination by anyone’s standards. You can’t just blame me because he realized that.”

“I don’t know,” Henry admitted. His old friend did have a point. “Just write the letter, Joey.”

A few minutes later, Joey handed the two papers to Henry. Henry gave the letter a quick read over to make sure it was appropriate, then, satisfied with its contents, put the papers away. He looked on at Joey for a moment. If he wanted to, he could have dressed him down, shoved his mistakes in his face until he cried. But for a single moment, all Henry saw was a frail, lonely old man. “Joey,” Henry said, sure to keep his voice businesslike. “You have people to visit you, right?”

“Yes. My sister and her granddaughter come once a week.”

“Good. Now, listen: a lot of the people I released are angry. If I were you, I’d get the best lawyer and the best home security system money can buy.” Henry got up to leave, taking the letter and the adoption papers with him. A small part of him felt that Joey was following, and sure enough, he felt the old man touch his hand to get his attention. “Don’t touch me!” Henry snapped, instantly regretting the hint of vulnerability he’d shown. He stopped, pulled his hand away, and curled it into a fist.

“I just wanted to ask one last thing of you.”

“What?” Henry growled.

Joey paused, taken aback by Henry's anger.

“What?" Henry roared.

“I could have put a SWAT team in a time loop, you know. I did it to you because you matter. Henry, what you think means the world to me. And now, you know everything about about my mistakes. Now that I- well, we, but I made it happen- now that we’ve saved everyone who could be saved, do you forgive me?”

All Henry could think was that Joey was pathetic. “You need to forgive yourself,” he sighed, not bothering to look back at his old friend. “No one else will.” Joey could hear the tiredness and disappointment in that gentle voice. Henry was sure of that. He left, closed the door behind him, and leaned wearily against it, feeling almost too exhausted to stand.

Bendy hugged Henry’s leg, which got his attention. “You looked like you needed it,” Bendy explained.

Henry smiled and stroked Bendy’s head. “Thanks, bud.”

“Can I see Joey now?”

Henry shook his head.

“Why not? He’d like me now. Right?”

“Well, probably. But trust me, Bendy, that man isn’t worth it. I was his friend and business partner for years, and the only good thing I ever got out of it...” Henry fumbled the paper in his hands and pulled out the adoption papers. “Was this.”

Bendy was awestruck. “Y-you mean...?”

Henry knelt down to meet Bendy’s eyes. “Yeah. I’ve warmed up to you, bud. I’m going to take you home and treat you like my own child.”

Bendy wiped away a tear of joy. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Ha, no problem. Now, let’s get these people on their way home, and go home ourselves. Linda’s waiting for me. I’ll explain everything, and if I know anything about her, she’ll be totally open to you living with us.”

The duo walked home hand in hand. Henry thought about the five people they’d released. Each of them had wanted something different from Joey. Some different form of closure. As for Henry, all he wanted was to never see him again.

As for Bendy, well, Henry knew what Bendy wanted, but he was hoping that he didn’t need it. That enough affection from people who weren’t twisted beyond belief would mend the hole that Joey Drew had left in his heart.

That evening, Henry put the apology letter in his bedside drawer. He never touched it again.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #my fanfiction #Henry Stein #joey drew #Toon bendy #breaking the time loop

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isthisthingeven0n · 5 years

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dreaming: d.d

okay so I know this is a david piece, but I really wanna know how many people would be interested in some of the other guys? I have some ideas I wanna post soon, but is it worth me doing? lemme know- oh and I realised no one knows my name on here. kinda weird after like 3 months of being here lmao

enjoy!

“Y/n, get in here!” Susie yells through the door after banging repeatedly.

I remain still, lost in my mind as I am surrounded by all of the things I own stored in bin bags and boxes. “Susie, I am not in the mood.” I yell weakly back, but she doesn’t give in easily as I hear my door shaking in its hinges.

Sighing I shuffle through all the boxes, unsure what is worth keeping and whether I should just donate it all. A fresh start is what I need, to just go somewhere new with nothing and explore who I might become. “Come on, Y/n.” Vardan pulls my arm forcefully as I slowly walk behind him as I remain in my pjs, despite it being 4pm.

“Seriously guys, why can’t you let me contemplate my worth in peace?” I moan as Vardan comes to a holt. “What? There some kinda Buffett no one warned me about?” Looking up they’re all sat down on the sofa, David in the middle holding his camera. “What’re you doing here, Dave?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious of my less than a presentable state.

He stands up and walks toward me. I glance over his shoulder seeing Vardan with the camera. “Y/n,” He takes my hands in his and I feel my heart stop.

“Oh my god if you propose to me like this I will lose my shit.” I state and he just laughs in response, ignoring the serious tone and wide eyes.

“I’m not proposing to you,” He says and I let out a sigh of relief. “however this week hasn’t been the best for you.” I nod in agreement, not sure how else to describe it without using an unforeseen amount of words less than pleasant. “Can we talk for a moment?” His voice becomes hushed, and he lowers his head towards mine.

I raise an eyebrow in suspicion. “Okay?”

We walk towards my temporary bedroom where the bed can just about be seen through all of the boxes. “Remember in your apartment you had a snow globe of the Roman Coliseum?”

“Of course.” I respond, trying to hide my disappointment. I had a whole display of snowglobes, some from places I’d been and others of places I’d love to go to. Amongst all of them, Italy was always the biggest dream.

But that all shattered when someone broke in and wrecked my apartment. Whoever they were they definitely weren’t fussy in what they stole and what they destroyed.

I can still picture it, my snowglobes smashed across the floor. The glittery specks in the water soaking into my socks as I saw the Coliseum smashed in half. Much like my dreams, broken.

“What is it about Italy you admire so much?” He asks, and I tilt my head.

“Do we really have to talk about this now, Dave?” I reply as I worm my way into his arms as he leans against the wall.

Looking up at him I focus on his growing smile and the warmth that radiates through it across the rest of his face. “I realised this has been the shittest week for you, and wanted to cheer you up.”

I turn around, sitting across from him now. “David,” I say slowly. “what did you do?” I nervously ask, afraid of what he’ll say.

He starts laughing like a little kid. “Meet me at mine, 7am tomorrow morning. Pack a bag with some clothes in. Preferably summer clothes.” He leans over and kisses me softly before standing up and heading out.

“What?” I ask, laughing at how bizarre this all is.

All he does is lean in the doorway with a smile on his face. “You’ll see, Y/n.”

Yawning I wave to Jonah who simply stares at me, barely acknowledging the big bag I’m carrying with me as he slowly walks back to his room. “Bye cous,” I call out and he half waves, still completely out of it.

As I get into my car I can’t help but wonder what he’s planned. Are we going to look at new places for me to live in? A mini break down the coast? Are we going for a beach day or just chilling at his?

So many things cross my mind as I pull up to his and I can feel my heart beat intensifying with each step I take.

Ringing the doorbell I stand still, and then I see a note slip out in front of my feet.

‘you might wanna go check what’s in your boot.’

Looking around at my car I slowly turn away and unlock the boot. As I open it I see another note, this one a bit bigger and less creepy looking.

‘did you watch scottys video last night? had an important clue that you overlooked...’

Closing the boot I take my phone out and watch his whole video.

At first, I can’t see anything different that stands out, but then David appears and they’re both signing some documents. “And Dave can officially leave the US again!” Scott yells and David cheers, holding the documents up. “Perfect timing for Y/n, eh Dave.” Scott nudges him and he softly laughs. “Shock of her life.” He mumbles and David glances up at the camera.

“She won’t know til we go. She’s awful at watching everyone's videos.” David laughs and Scott feigns offence.

Putting my phone down it vibrates in my hand. It’s a message from Scotty.

‘maybe dave should do this more often to get you to watch my videos - but go to the back, there’s something special for you.’

As I head into the back the sun is still rising, leaving a warm glow to the entire back. The tiles are tinted orange, and right on the ledge, I see a small little object with a note sat underneath it.

Bending down I smile, seeing it’s a snowglobe like the one that was broken.

Unable to stop smiling I forget the note in my hand, my eyes are fixated on the flecks of glitter that float around the Coliseum just like I am a little girl again.

“You might wanna read the note.” I turn my head, seeing David stood there with something behind his back.

“If this is all some kinda prank I will lose my shit.” I state and watch as he shakes his head.

“Trust me, this is far from a prank.” He takes a step closer, still keeping a distant but focuses on the paper in my hand. “Just, just read the note.”

Sighing I place the snowglobe down and lean over the barrier. Opening the piece of paper my body collapses into the barrier.

‘in times like this, an adventure is necessary. so, why not make all your dreams happen? we’re going to rome.’

Turning around to face him with glossy eyes I blink away the tears and see him holding two plane tickets in his hand. “Told you it wasn’t a prank.”

#hope you enjoyed it #sorry it took me so long to get round to #didnt mean for it to take me so long to post oops #david dobrik #david dobrik imagines #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik fluff #vlogsquad imagines #vlogsquad imagine #vlogsquad writing #vlog squad imagines #vlog squad imagine #vlogsquad #vlog squad #vlogsquad x reader #vlog squad x reader #david x reader #dobrik

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bamby0304 · 6 years

Text

Season’s Special: Chapter 4

Summer: June

Summary: Life was simple. You worked at the local cafe, starting your days baking some pies before setting off to serve customers. Everything was routine, all year round. Nothing changed. As a creature of habit you were quite content living your life the way it was. But when a flannel wearing flirt walks into the cafe one morning you begin to wonder if maybe you’re missing something…

Over the next twelve months things start to change. Over four seasons your world is turned upside down… only question is, is it for better or for worse?

Masterlist

Warnings: Nope :):)

Bamby

You stood in the kitchen of your café, boxing up an order of cupcakes for a little girl’s birthday party. You’d spent the last couple of hours working on the fifty cakes and were now covered in icing sugar, coloured frosting and cocoa powder. Your hair was a mess, and despite the fact you’d thrown on an apron you plain lilac shirt and light blue jeans had still managed to get dirty.

Tom and Susie had been there every step of the way, grabbing whatever you might need and placing it on your work bench, serving customers, cleaning up the kitchen as you left it in disarray. You were truly thankful for the help- and secretly thankful they were quiet about it too.

Whenever you got to work on baking or decorating desserts the task took up all your attention. You could spend hours working on one cake alone, perfectly a new and creative design that would be the perfect match to a delicious cake. You took pride in your work and didn’t believe in handing over something you were one hundred percent pleased with.

Letting out a tired breath, you took a step back from the work bench, nodding to the boxed cakes. “Done.”

“Good. Now eat.” Tom came to stand in front of you, a plate in his hands, a salad and ham sandwich on the plate.

Your stomach grumbled in anticipation at the prospect of food. With a small smile in Tom’s direction you quickly untied your apron, tossed it on the counter, and took the plate.

Having been cooped up inside for hours now, you decided to take your food out to the park across the road. It was a beautiful day and you couldn’t see why you shouldn’t enjoy some lunch under the shade of a tree as you took in the sights of your town’s main street.

Walking out of the store and across the road, you spotted a vacant picnic table. Eyes set, you headed over, placing your plate down and taking a seat, finally letting yourself relax.

As you nibbled on your sandwich you watched people move about, waving and smiling at you here and there. You smiled back, always happy to see friendly faces. You looked out and over to the pond as well, watching the ducks float along the water happily. The sun was shining up above, not a cloud to be seen. It was a truly lovely day.

“Afternoon.”

You jumped, shocked, having not expected someone to come join you at your table.

Turning to the newcomer you found Dean Winchester taking a seat across from you, placing two small boxes of pie on the table in front of him, along with two covered take away coffee cups.

“Changing your order up, I see.” You smiled, turning a little more so you could face him properly.

“This is for you.” He noted, handing you one of the drinks and a slice of pie.

Surprised once more, you grabbed the drink and took a sip, finding that it was made exactly the way you liked it. When you gave him a confused look, he simply shrugged.

“Saw you sitting out here. You look like you’ve been working hard so I thought you might want a drink. The girl behind the counter made it for you.” He explained. “Plus, I didn’t want to leave without trying the new season’s special.”

Your smile found its way back onto your lips. “Rose apple pie.”

“I have to admit, I have never seen a pie look that good. It almost looks like an actual rose.”

“That’s the point.”

Chuckling lightly, shaking his head, he opened the small box and grabbed the fork that sat inside before taking a bite of the food. In an instant his eyes closed as a low and long grown fell from his lips.

Shifting in your seat, feeling as if you should leave to give him and the pie some privacy, but also unable to deny the fact that groan was seriously hot, you watched him eat the piece of pie in his mouth. You watched as he savoured every moment of it.

When he was finally finished he opened his eyes to look at you. “Now, I’ve had your apple pies before, and I seriously thought there would be no difference with this one… but I can definitely taste something new in it.”

You grinned. “That would be the secret ingredient.”

“Which is?” He pressed, but got no response in return. “Oh, come on. What’s it gonna take to get an answer out of you? It’s been months and you still haven’t even told me your name. You could at least tell me what’s in my food.”

“Love.” You teased.

“Ha, ha.” He rolled his eyes. “Seriously. Not even a hint?”

“Okay. A hint.” Shrugging, you offered him a lifeline. “Last season was something dairy. This season is something sour.”

“I was talking about your name.”

Shaking your head, you refused to give that up. “If I tell you that then there’ll be no reason for you to come around anymore. And I enjoy your company way too much to let you ditch me like that.” You joked.

“That’s not true. I’d keep coming back.” He insisted.

“Really? Why?” You grinned, waiting for the witty comment, but hoping for something nicer.

“The pies, obviously.” He answered as if that should have been obvious- which it really should have.

Laughing, you said no more as you dug into your own food, the two of you falling silent. It was nice, the fact you could sit there like that, eating, enjoying your drinks, taking in the park. The moment almost felt like it could be a date…

When you’d first met Dean and he’d overheard your conversation with Tom and Susie, you’d been mortified that he’d listened to your friends discuss your love life. But ever since then, you’d found yourself think about it a little more than usual. They hadn’t been wrong when they said it had been a while since you’d gotten out there.

But the store took up so much time, and it’s not like you’d ever been interested in anyone else around town. Maybe you were too focused on the store to take notice of anyone else though? Maybe Tom was right? Maybe you were a workaholic?

“Dean?”

“Mm?” He hummed his response around his mouthful of pie.

“What are you doing Friday?”

Eyes wide, he swallowed his food without chewing it properly, his back straightening as he looked you up and down.

You were expecting another witty response. You were sure of it. Most of your banter consisted of sarcasm, flirty comments, and a few jokes. Though with the way you’d met it wasn’t really a surprise you both fell into that habit.

But when he did speak, you found you’d been wrong.

“Nothing. I’m completely free.”

“There’s a bar in town that has really great burgers. You wanna meet up, have a few drinks, play some pool?” You asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Are you any good at pool?” He grinned.

Yes, you were. Harvey, the local barfly, had taught you a thing or two. But you weren’t going to admit that. Not when there was a chance Dean might offer to help you- which would mean he’d have to get up close and personal.

“I’ve played once or twice.” You shrugged. “But I’m not very good.”

“Well, then I’ll pick you up from the café Friday, 6:00.” Getting to his feet, he grabbed his empty pie box, and half-finished coffee. “See you around, baker girl.” He winked before turning to leave.

Watching him walk away, you found your mouth opening before you registered what you were doing. “Hey, pie boy!” Once he turned to you, you gave your best flirty smile. “The name’s Y/N.”

Bamby

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iwriteficsnottragediesladies · 7 years

Text

Choosing to Stay

Requests:

Hi umm can you do an angsty brendon x reader where the reader is emotionally abused by her family like degrading her calling her stupid and she starts questioning her existence then brendon’s her bestfriend and confesses to her and itll be fluffy and shit

Do you think you could write a kinda angsty fluff where the reader’s parents kick her out and Bren comes to the rescue :) god I love your writing

A/N: This is what I came up with, I hope you like it.

Tws: verbal abuse, suicidality, happy ending

“For fuck’s sake Y/n, we already talked about this,” Your father shouted, “You can’t keep doing this shit.”

“Dad, I’m sorry. I couldn’t focus, I was so nervous,” you reply quietly.

“I don’t care how you felt,” He scoffs, shutting you down, “This is just not good enough, Y/n!”

“I’m sorry Dad,” you repeat, “I studied so hard—“

“Clearly not hard enough,” He snapped. “God why can’t you be more like your sister?’” He says exasperated, “You see how successful she is, on her way to medical school? She makes me proud.”

“What?” you cried, “You’re ashamed of me, is that what you’re saying?”

“Well you certainly don’t have much to show for yourself do you?” He hissed.

“Mom?” you looked to her and pleaded, praying she would step in.

“You need to get your grades up,” she says seriously.

“Go to your room and study, you idiot,” Your father waved you away, “Maybe you can try to make something of yourself.”

You walked down the hallway and into your room. You shut the door and sat on your bed, staring down at your quilt, running your fingers over the squares. You had made it yourself, out of your favorite old t-shirts. You remember when you showed your parents, so happy with how it came out. Your dad took one look at it and asked you, ‘What kind of shitty rag do you think that is?’

He always had to take things away from you. Anytime you felt successful, he had to take it away from you. And your mom was practically just as bad. She was so passive and always let your dad blow up. You guess she must agree with him but doesn’t have the voice to say it herself.

Your sister was always the star of the show—a valedictorian, star softball pitcher, president of the debate team equipped with a full ride at Johns Hopkins. And then there was you—an uncoordinated, mediocre student riddled with social anxiety and lacking any sort of leadership ability.

Tears roll down your face as you pondered your father’s words.

not good enough

why can’t you be more like your sister

you certainly don’t have much to show for yourself do you

you idiot

try to make something of yourself

You would never be your sister. You were an idiot and your grades were proof. You didn’t have trophies or medals to display proudly on your dresser. You were going nowhere in life. And most importantly, you were not good enough. For anything. Academics, sports, friends, relationships… You have no right to be on this planet. Your father had a point.

You contributed absolutely nothing to the world. You had nothing to offer. You might as well disappear. Your parents obviously wouldn’t miss your meaningless existence. Who would?

Well, maybe Brendon would.

You had been close since freshmen year. You met on the very first day of school in homeroom. You kind of used each other to get accustomed to high school—it was a way to never have to eat alone or have to ask a random person to help them open your locker because you forgot which way to spin the dial first. Eventually it became a lot more than just a logistically advantageous friendship. You both had so much in common.

He loved music like you did. He was so amazing at it too, between his singing and piano and guitar and the general ability to pick up any piece of music and make it his own. It was beautiful. It was pure art.

You always felt special around him and he treated you like you were really worth something. He always listened to you so intently, genuinely interested in every word you spoke.

But that was three years ago. You started to grow apart, mostly because your classes and lunch periods never aligned quite right, so you had to branch out to other people. Brendon did that effortlessly with his vivacious yet gentle personality. You, on the other hand, struggled to make a single friend. You successfully made some connections with a few people, so you had people to eat with and talk to during class, but they were barely more than acquaintances to you. None of them could even compare to your friendship with Brendon.

You decide to read the assigned chapter for your history class. It is a futile attempt, as you can’t see through your tears and can’t comprehend the words through your pain. Your inability to learn only affirms your worst thoughts.

You’re an idiot. Worthless. Why can’t you be smart? Like your sister? Your parents wouldn’t miss you if you were gone because they would still have Susie, their favorite daughter. You’ve always been second best.

You give up and get in bed. The bad thoughts play in your head over and over again. You think about ending it all. All it would take was a pair of scissors… a belt… it wouldn’t be hard. It’s not rocket science. It’s darkness. Quiet. Sleep. Peace.

No. You scold yourself for having those thoughts. There must be some reason to stay, some reason you were here. But you just couldn’t think of a single one.

You cry yourself to sleep, thinking about how you could stop the pain you felt. It hurt too much. You just couldn’t take it anymore. You pray maybe you just won’t wake up tomorrow. It would make it easy.

You wake up to your alarm in the morning. You’re still alive. Maybe that’s a sign you should keep going. You get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. You are greeted by your horrific reflection. Puffy eyes and such a tired expression. You try to think of a time you’ve ever felt pretty or comfortable in your own skin.

In no time you’re ready to go to school. You enter the kitchen and see a paper bag with your name on it. Your mom had packed you a lunch. How sweet of her. A small smile is drawn on your lips. Maybe she felt bad about last night. Just as you finished your thought, she entered the room. You sling your bag over your shoulder.

“You packed me a lunch?” You ask.

“Yeah, sweetie,” she replied quickly, “I think it would be good to… stay away from that cafeteria food for a while.”

“Oh?” You responded with an inquisitive look.

“You know, it’s very… high in calories,” she slowed, “and I just thought that you look a little… heavy lately.”

“Really?” you freeze up.

“Your clothes are getting all stretched out,” she offered up an example. “You would look so nice without that extra weight.”

“Oh um, okay,” you fumble, “I’ll see you later.”

You shove the bag into your back pack and walk out to the bus stop. Tears welled in your eyes. You were right all along–you were fat and ugly. You were stupid to think any different. You should have listened when your dad called you ‘Miss Piggy’ last week. You take up too much space, yet another reason to end it all.

You trudge through the school day. You get an exam back in calculus and it’s an F as per usual. Idiot.

You sit at lunch and look to see what your mother had packed: an apple, crackers, and a few small slices of cheese. The ration was so small and bland. Were you really that fat? Your stomach growls for the remainder of the day in protest of such a small meal.

You decide to text Brendon, because why the fuck not? You miss having him in your life. You desperately need someone to tell you that everything will be okay. Maybe he would agree with your parents though because everyone else seems to. You might as well try because Brendon was your last hope. You conclude that he would be the deciding factor, to stay or to let go.

Hey Brendon

Hey stranger, how have you been?!

Good, how about you?

Good good. Do you have study hall next period?

Yeah

We should meet up cause it’s been forever

You hesitate. What if you disappoint him with who you’ve become since the last time you talked? You were such a disappointment to everyone, why would Brendon feel any differently? You still say yes. He was would be the final straw.

Yeah sure. Library?

Perfect, see you then

When the bell rings you make your way to the library. You take a deep breath and enter. You see Brendon sitting in what used to be your usual hangout spot. It makes you smile a bit. Brendon’s face lights up when he sees you.

“Hey y/n!” He says quietly and gives you a big hug. You had forgotten how good his embrace felt.

“Hey Brendon,” you smile at him as he releases you. You set your bag down and sit. You force a smile as Brendon looks at you from his corner seat next to you. You always sat there because you could talk to each other without having to shout across the table.

“What’s up homegirl?” He asked with that patented smirk. You had almost forgotten about those nicknames you used.

“Not much homeboy,” you reply with a true smile. “Are you still working on your music?”

“Yeah!” He replies enthusiastically, “I’ve been doing a lot of writing. I like making my own stuff you know. You get to create something that has never been made before, you know?”

Brendon never failed to be introspective. You loved that.

“That’s amazing Brendon,” you reply.

“Hey you should take the composition class with Mr. Soli with me next semester!” He thought aloud.

“That sounds really cool,” you reply, “but I don’t think I would be good enough for that class. That is more your level.”

“What do you mean, Y/n?” He furrows his brow, “You’re an incredible writer. I’ve always loved your songs.”

“Yeah I don’t know,” you say quietly, looking down at your shoes with a frown.

“Y/n,” he started, “is everything okay?”

You should have known he would see through you. He always read you like a book. Put that together with how you suddenly contacted him… He could put two and two together very easily.

“Yeah, yeah,” you brush it off, “I’m all good.”

“Okay,” he accepted your answer wearily.

You continued on with your conversation. Before you knew it, the bell was ringing. You exchanged goodbyes. As you start to leave Brendon suddenly interjects.

“Y/n,” he said, “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“I know,” you reply simply with an empty smile.

When you arrive home your mom greets you. You go to grab a snack from the cabinet but she stops you.

“You don’t want that many extra calories today, do you?” She asked. Although it was a question, it was obviously a command.

“Okay,” you put the snack back.

“Dad and I are going to Frank and Donna’s dinner party tonight, so there is a salad for you in the fridge for dinner.” She reminded you.

You retreat to your room and it’s not long before your dad comes home. You hope he’ll just leave you alone and go to the party without talking to you.

“Y/n?” You hear your dad call. Fuck. You hesitantly enter the kitchen.

“Did you get your exam back from calculus today?” Your Dad inquired. You nod. “What did you get?”

“A 58%” you mutter. Your dad sighs and hits his fist on the table, causing you and your mother to jump.

“Y/n,” he yelled, “Why can’t you get anything right? Are you retarded or something?”

“Im sorry Dad,” you look down at the ground but his glare still cutting through you.

“What are you going to do with your life, huh?!” He questioned, “You’re an idiot!”

Your eyes well up and a tear rolls over the brim.

“I’m trying dad,” you beg him to understand.

“You’re useless,” he scoffs, “Completely worthless.”

“I know,” you whisper. You agreed with him, so what would be the point of arguing anyway?

“Stop crying!” He shouted, “Go to your room and do your homework. Maybe learn something. We’re leaving.”

You walk back to your room in tears. You can hear the garage door shut and you know you’re alone.

You’re an absolute mess. You are sobbing and hardly able to breathe, sputtering and coughing on your own spit, snot and tears.

You’re an idiot. Worthless. Fat. Failure. Not going anywhere.

Dead end.

The pair of scissors on your desk catch your eye. You walk over and pick them up, spinning the handle around a finger. You sit down and hold the closed blades in your hand, the metal cooling the palms of your sweaty hands.

You hate yourself. There was no way to better yourself. None of that was going to change. May as well end it now and avoid a lifetime of being worthless and a poor excuse of a daughter.

Your parents? They have made it clear they don’t want you around. They won’t miss you. Your sister? She’ll go on with her wildly successful life just fine. Your teachers? They won’t miss having your stupidity in the class, having to repeat the information over and over again for you. Your friends? Your fair weather, small talk friends will be just fine. Brendon?

Oh shit.

But Brendon.

The thought of him caused another choked sob escape.

‘You know you can talk to me, right? About anything’

You don’t know if you can stop yourself from what you are wanting to do. Everything hurt. You can’t live like this anymore.

You pick up your phone before you can think about it too much and pull up his number.

Calling Brendon

“Hey Homegirl,” he answered in his usual jovial tone, happy to see you called, “What’s up?” You attempt to pull yourself together enough to speak but it’s pointless.

“Bren,” you reply breathlessly, your voice drowning in tears, struggling to make a coherent sound.

“Y/n?” Brendon is shocked. “What’s wrong?” He asked quickly.

“I c-can’t brendon,” you sputter, “i just can’t anymore,”

“Can’t what, y/n?” Brendon asked gently, trying to understand.

“Brendon please, I’m about to do something stupid,” you admitted through your tears.

“Y/n, where are you right now?” Brendon asked seriously. He seemed to get exactly what was happening.

“In my room,” you breathe out.

“I’m on my way right now,” he reassured you.

“No don’t,” You spit weakly.

“Y/n, I’m coming over,” he repeated. He wasn’t going to leave you alone like this. You guess you wanted him to do that subconsciously or you wouldn’t have called him.

“Okay,” you fold so easily, knowing that you need him.

“Listen to me,” He directed, “I want you to put down anything you have in you hands, clear everything off your bed, everything in reach, and sit in the middle of your bed until I get there, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Mhm,” you confirm. You can hear the engine of his care turn over in the background.

“I’m going to be there soon, just sit right there, okay?” He told you.

“Okay, bye,” you replied

“See in you in a second,” he finished.

You did exactly as Brendon said. You put the scissors down. You took all of your school work off of your bed and put it on the floor. You scooted the night table away out of your reach. You sat in the center of your mattress, your phone in front of you.

You breathed in. You breathed out. You tried to fill your mind with the rhythm of your breathing, but the bad thoughts still slipped in. You can’t believe this is what your life has become. You have gotten to the point where you would truly rather die than live.

You grew up with two parents, a sister and a cat in a middle class suburb. Your dad was a dick, but other than that, life was pretty good. Nothing horrible or traumatic has happened to you. Yet here you were, trying to push what a pair of scissors could accomplish out of your mind.

You continued to cry, feeling absolutely helpless.

The doorbell rang and you hear Brendon banging on the door. You get off of your bed and start to make your way to the front door.

“Y/n?” Brendon called against the wood door, “Y/n open the door.”

You pull the door open and you stand looking at each other for a moment. Brendon takes in your appearance: you red face soaked with tears that have fallen all the way down to wet your shirt, your hair in utter disarray.

“Tell me you haven’t done anything already, Y/n,” he asked with pain and worry deep in his eyes. You shake your head.

“No, no,” you tell him, “You stopped me Brendon. I was going to do it, I really was.” You started crying at the realization that you really were about to end your life if you hadn’t called him. You then throw yourself into him and start sobbing all over again. Brendon wraps you in his arms and you stay there, just like that, in your doorway for a while.

“You’re going to be okay, Y/n,” Brendon whispered to you, “You’re going to be alright. We’re going to work this out, whatever it takes.”

“I love you so much, Brendon, thank you,” You pull away from him and gratefully.

“Thank you, Y/n,” He says. You look at him curiously. “Thank you for choosing to stay.”

A/n: Okay, I hope that wasn’t too bad. I really like this fic because I had someone do this for me, and I have done it for other people. Sometimes knowing someone cares is all it takes to keep going to the next day. I love you guys so much, I care about each and every one of you. Please contact me if you need anything. I will be your sign to keep going.

Like and reblog if you’re feelin’ it.

#brendon urie #brendon urie x reader #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #panic at the disco #panic attack #depression #reader #happy ending

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gallifreyanlibertea · 7 years

Text

An Excessively White Christmas

A/N: This is for @brightly-painted-canvas . That’s right Daria, I’m your Secret Santa, I apologize because I made you wait forever and then some for this sub-par piece of work. The prompt given was “humorous, fluffy and Christmas-y” and ten scrapped fics later, this was born.

You’re a great friend Susie and you deserve way better, but Merry (late) Christmas again <3 And thank you @xmas-usukexchange2016 for setting this up and putting up with me (ily). Also forgive me, I don’t know what people do on Christmas.

It was final. It was law, for Alfred had decreed it, and that meant the alpha would do anything in his power, everything in his power to make it so.

This Christmas simply had to be the best Christmas of them all.

And that was no mere statement, no, it was a promise. Their first Christmas as a mated, married couple, and Alfred simply had to have it perfect. So glorious indeed, that it would serve as a sort of proof to every nosy old woman, every snide comment from their parents, every whisper of gossip that had said their relationship wouldn’t make it all these months.

A sort of trophy for themselves, that yes, they were here now. Past the fights, past the bickering, past every single time Alfred had taken Arthur to McDonald’s for Valentine’s Day, and past the fact that yes, he’d proposed there as well thinking it to be ironic, while Arthur stood there both flustered and raging mad all at once because who proposed at McDonald’s?

This Christmas had to be the greatest.

That meant lights brighter than the neighbors’, music louder than the family’s down the street, sweaters uglier than the ones that mediocre couple everyone in the neighborhood thought was so cute when Arthur and Alfred were obviously so much cuter wore.

And though watching Alfred get so worked up over proving someone wrong was so in character, so competitive, cutthroat, everything that made him so damn irresistible to Arthur- it was also a bit concerning to see just how much the motive clouded over the overall meaning of the holiday season.

Arthur watched as Alfred fussed over the tree.

“I should’ve bought the lights with the different colors, it’s not blinky enough.”

“They seem perfectly fine to me, dear.” Was Arthur’s response- and he wasn’t lying. They were fine. More than fine, actually, with a light that bathed their dim surroundings in a warm, yellow glow, framing his mate like a halo, casting dancing, angelic shadows across his tanned skin.

He was gorgeous. Even as those lips turned down in a frown, brows drawn together in anger, “I’m not going for fine, Arthur, it’s gotta be-”

“I know.” Arthur pursed his lips. “Perfect.”

Alfred heaved out a sigh as he took a step back, the hands on his hips falling limp to his sides, looking positively defeated, worn.

And Arthur came to the rescue, slipping away from his place on the couch, coming to wrap his arms around his lover’s hunched frame. “And it does look perfect, okay? So relax.”

A grunt.

“Come on, relax with me, love.”

Alfred didn’t seem convinced, but he put on a good show- grinning into Arthur’s hair as he was swept away, socks sliding against the wooden floor. A slow, languid dance to a holiday song Arthur sang incredibly off-key. It was something he found himself initiating often leading up to the big day, to steal his mate back from the pointless decoration he’d buried himself into.

Alfred’s idea of a perfect Christmas was a bit different from his.

Arthur would’ve been plenty satisfied just to wake up next to his husband. Morning light streaming through the gaps in the curtains, the alpha attempting to steal stale kisses to which Arthur would respond with a lazy shove- rolling out of bed after what seemed like centuries to be greeted by a big, glittering tree with exactly two presents beneath. Yes, that would make it a jolly Christmas indeed. Just the sight of that tousled, blond hair- all knotted and swept this way and that- and those chapped, winter-worn lips Arthur would soften with a kiss under the mistletoe.

The clink of their rings against mugs of cocoa far too sweet to finish…

The Christmas of Arthur’s dreams.

But Alfred had his sights set, and oh lord was he stubborn. After a few blissful minutes had gone by of that mindless, giddy dancing, Arthur feeling so perfectly warm encircled in those loving arms- Alfred had pulled away to rearrange the ornaments he claimed were crooked, and Arthur watched, arms folded, waiting for Alfred to get some sort of hint that it had gone too far, seeing as his mate was currently jealous of a tree.

And when it didn’t happen, he groaned, padding off to the kitchen to brew himself a cup of tea and brood silently, trying not to let his lemony scent of jealousy wash over the strategically placed gingerbread-scented candles lest Alfred fuss about that as well.

They woke to snow.

It wasn’t all that unusual. Their region had been expecting a white Christmas, and Alfred had been rooting for it as well. Arthur woke to find his mate by the window, throwing laughs over his shoulder, parting the curtain so wide Arthur was practically slapped with that white, white morning light.

And he almost forgot Alfred’s obsession. He rolled right off the bed and walked, a bit disoriented, a bit drowsy, right into those open arms, and let Alfred hold him, kiss his hair, tell him everything was going to be perfect now.

Well, until it got a bit too perfect.

“It’s snowing an awful lot, don’t you think, babe?”

Arthur shrugged, peering into the cupboard in search of something to nibble with his tea. “I suppose.”

“We still have to go shopping for the party food today,” Alfred mumbled, spoon swishing in his soggy cereal. He sat back against the dining room chair, pulling his legs up against his chest. “Do you think we can go real quick, before it gets heavier?”

Arthur paused, letting the quiet sink in, ears tuned to what seemed like howling outside. “I wouldn’t risk it now, Alfred, it seems dangerous.”

He wilted at the sight of Alfred peering back into his bowl almost dejectedly, teeth chewing on his lip.

“But worst comes to worst, we can make a quick trip an hour before the party, alright, love?”

“If the snow dies down by then,” Alfred said with a chuckle, to which Arthur responded with a purse of his lips.

“I’m sure it will, it’s just snow.”

It didn’t.

Their phones buzzed to a blizzard warning, lights flickering, snow hammering down relentlessly against their windows. Arthur watched with a face half-buried in his mug of tea, because Alfred had forgotten to watch the cups, and because he also enjoyed the feeling of vapor curling around his lips- and Alfred curled into the couch, lips twisted into a frown.

There certainly wasn’t going to be a party anytime today, that was for sure.

Unless of course, Alfred expected the guests to shovel through the streets into the house and shovel their way back when the party was over. Arthur wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

“You know I hate parties, anyway, Al,” He said, fingers peeling at the blanket cocoon his mate had currently pressed himself into. “I find this Christmas truly great now that we don’t have to entertain the neighbors.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Alfred replied, the sound muffled. Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes because yes, he was saying it to make the idiot feel better about something he shouldn’t have been feeling bad about in the first place, but also because he truly, genuinely, hated people. Hated having them over for holidays, with their little kids, knocking over the decor, tracking their dirty little feet into the carpet. Existing.

Alfred was also considerably more social than he was, that was for sure, so he might not have understood the fact that a person didn’t enjoy being suffocated by people every waking minute of their lives.

The alpha pouted, adding, “This is the worst.”

“Oh yeah, definitely is.” Arthur mused, placing his tea mug onto whatever surface he could find, crossing his arms as he peered down at the pitiful fluffy blanket caterpillar, his husband’s current state. “No friends, no random people that aren’t even part of our lives. I’m afraid you’re stuck with silly old me for Christmas, ugh, your mate. Dreadfully sorry, this really is the worst, isn’t it?”

Alfred buried his smile in the couch, “Yeah.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll just leave you to it, then-”

Alfred unfolded, practically absorbing Arthur into his arms, collapsing back onto the couch with a new addition to his blanket roll, and Arthur bit back a smile, maneuvering himself to turn flush against Alfred’s chest, ruffling that floppy hair as much as he was allowed to before he found himself tackled onto the floor.

Needless to say, they spilled the mug of tea. Arthur made Alfred clean it up as punishment for sulking around.

Christmas morning wasn’t as… twinkling as he’d expected it.

It was plenty white, that was for sure.

Arthur woke to a dim room. Not quite as warm as he’d hoped, what with the heater they’d left at full blast last night. He found himself curling into his blanket, toes pressed against Alfred’s legs in an attempt to absorb some heat.

To which Alfred woke with a start, slapping at Arthur’s frozen feet. “Dude!”

“I’m sorry, it’s cold,” Arthur complained, and Alfred furrowed his brows, shrugging deeper into his blanket.

“Then go turn the heater back on.”

Arthur stared, then stared, and stared some more, hoping to convey the fact that it was Christmas morning, a time for giving and charity, which meant that Alfred should get up and do it for him in the name of love. But Alfred remained adamant, squinting at him from the top edge of his blanket.

“Merry Christmas baby, but I’m not getting out of this bed just this yet.”

Arthur growled, stepping out of the covers to switch on the light.

The room remained dim.

Oh dear.

“Alfred, the- um, the electricity doesn’t seem to be working.”

Alfred’s eyes snapped open and he practically scrambled out of bed, slipping on his glasses, fingers flicking at the light switches, tugging at the plugs, and nothing seemed to work. The room was dim, cold, and everything Alfred didn’t want it to be.

He ran off downstairs and Arthur lingered in bed a bit before following along with a scowl. Padding down the steps, turning the corner, “Alfred, what’re you-?”

“The lights aren’t working,” Alfred said, and Arthur paused, watching as Alfred knelt pitifully at the foot of the tree, pinching the bulb of a light between his thumb and a finger. “Christmas is ruined.”

Oh, how dramatic. Arthur rolled his eyes- careful to do out of Alfred’s sight lest he angered the alpha in his time of despair. Christmas was hardly ruined because of a power outage. Arthur wanted to say that the first Christmas hardly had flashing LED lights, but that would only come off as sarcastic, something that didn’t sit well with Alfred when he was pouting and sighing like he was now.

So he straightened up, shuffling around the drawers for a box of matches, fetching a newspaper roll, at the sight of which Alfred got up from his pity-fest and joined Arthur in preparing their fireplace. Let there be light.

Of course, Arthur had never lit an actual fireplace before, but Alfred seemed to have a lot of practice. His family was the more traditional type, whereas the Kirklands tended to opt for the electrical versions of things. This was in his favor, seeing as letting Alfred seem in control was possibly the best way to put a spike in that cloudy mood of his.

Arthur watched as Alfred lit a few rolls of paper, tossing them into the hearth, laden with chunky logs and smaller twigs. The crackle was melodious, and oh, so was the heat, Arthur found himself crawling towards it, basking in the glow, letting the fire warm his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

And Alfred watched Arthur curl up by the fire with a small smile, “Never seen a fireplace before?”

“Do you think we could make hot chocolate over this?” Was Arthur’s response, and Alfred had replied with a no, but they’d freshened up, cracked their knuckles and tried anyway.

It ended up with a thoroughly burnt mug and an Alfred gasping I told you so-s between peals of laughter- not the kind he’d fake around friends, with the rich, deep rumble in his chest, but the rather high-pitched laugh he claimed was so embarrassing, and Arthur would tell him time and time again that a noise didn’t define just how macho one could be.

They drank it anyway, though the milk was cold and the hot chocolate powder collected at the bottom. Alfred seemed to like it that way- and he could’ve full well just put on an act, but Arthur liked the act, so it didn’t matter.

He licked his lips free of milk, “I wonder what Santa got us this year.”

Alfred rolled his eyes, collecting Arthur’s cup to toss it into the kitchen sink. No doubt he’d leave it for Arthur to wash later on, but it was Christmas so Arthur decided not to bring up that argument.“Guess we better find out, Artie.”

He made his way to the tree and Arthur found himself biting back a smile.

Two presents. Precisely two presents wrapped beneath, and It was just how he’d wanted it.

Alfred scooped one right into his hands and slid the other one in beside his mate, “This one’s for you, babe.”

He punctuated it with a wink and Arthur felt a knot in his gut. Arthur’s present was pale in comparison to the towering gift before him. He peeled at the paper gingerly, letting it crumple to the side before parting it, tearing it, almost, to reveal-

“A guitar!” Arthur gasped, letting his fingers smooth over the branded logo scrawled across the case. He didn’t dare open it, not yet, not now, not when what he’d gotten Alfred was so small.

Expensive, though, but small nevertheless.

“You like it?”

“Yes,” Arthur said with an affirmative grin, to which Alfred grinned as well, hands tearing at his own gift.

Arthur held his breath.

“An autographed, limited-edition Captain America comic book- babe!”

It seemed Alfred liked his as well.

A nice snog by the fireplace was in order Arthur thought, no, expected, even parted his lips for, but a loud shudder from outside had shut the mood right down. Alfred turned his head, a crease between his brows, almost longing.

“I wanted to take you ice-skating today, you know?”

“We can fill the tub and wait a while, we’d have all the ice we’d need,” Arthur said with a snort, to which Alfred shot him a glare.

“I wanted to make today perfect, Arthur, it’s-” Alfred paused, he sighed, watching as Arthur slid away from his grasp, “It’s not perfect.”

Arthur didn’t respond. He made his way to the kitchen, shuffling through the drawers, sighing out in puffs of condensed exhale in the cold, cold air. And then he came back, standing above a stupid Alfred who’d gone back to sulking as if he’d destroyed the idea of Christmas for the two of them. As if Arthur needed lights and bruising his arse on ice to make Christmas perfect.

“All I want for Christmas is a fire, food, preferably oxygen, and you.”

Alfred pouted, “A functioning tree and some mistletoe would’ve made it a hell of a lot better.”

Ah. That’s when Arthur let his lips quirk up in a slight smile, “The tree’s got ornaments, and we’ve got mistletoe-”

“No, we don’t. I was going to buy some with the party food.”

“Yes.” Arthur corrected, jutting out his arm, letting the sprig between his fingers hover over Alfred’s head, “We do.”

“That’s a basil leaf.”

“It’s mistletoe, pucker up.”

“That’s a basil leaf, and it’s kinda shriveled too.”

“Pucker up.” Arthur pressed with a quirk of his finger, beckoning for Alfred to join him on his feet. Alfred was hesitant to do so, but with a roll of his blue eyes, he eventually did.

“There’s nothing like a low-budget holiday decor.”

“Mistletoe means kiss.” Arthur let the leaf fall to the floor, wrapping his arms around Alfred’s neck. “Basil means tongue.”

He’d gotten his snog in the end, yes, but only after Alfred had laughed at him for a good five minutes. It was all good, Arthur had his revenge with a few choice bites here and there, and Alfred had retaliated with a pinch to his bum, to which Arthur practically hunted the idiot down when he ran, throwing pillows at every corner Alfred turned around the couch.

And since it was practically freezing inside, they’d agreed on a truce, huddling up beside the dying fire, wrapped in a single large blanket because Alfred had decided to sleep in his underwear last night and he was far too lazy to climb up and get himself a pair of pajama pants.

“Merry Christmas, Artie.”

“Merry Christmas, yourself,” he replied, to a rather satisfied-looking Alfred. A real treat compared to his whining and grumbling from before.

He let Alfred kiss his cheek, and kissed him right back. If that wasn’t the start of the best Christmas ever, Arthur didn’t know what was.

#usuk secret santa 2016 #aph america #aph england #oh look #omegaverse #like always honestly #hope you....... don't hate omegaverse daria lol especially after that heated conversation #I was sweating the entire time LMAO #also I'm an ass so I put off responding to asks and stuff until after I posted this so will be doing that #oh god this is so boring I'm sorry dariaaa #my fanfiction #usuk

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