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robinofgothamcity · 3 years

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♡ starting prompt: “were you ever going to tell me?”

♡ pairing: dick grayson (S1 YJ Robin) x fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “take a ride up to Malibu, I just wanna sit and look at you, look at you. what would it matter if your friends knew? who cares what other people say anyway.”

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes

both you and Dick walked out of Gotham Academy, laughing at some stupid joke he made as the two of you walked to the nearest coffee shop. the two of you religiously bought coffee and hung out every Thursday after school until it was time to head home.

you and Dick, unknown to each other9, had commitments to the YJ team and usually had to meet the team later in the night and today happened to be one of those days.

you really weren’t in the mood to go out for a patrol tonight but on Saturday, you had accepted to be Dick’s date to the winter formal Gotham Academy was holding and you had to excuse yourself from patrolling duties for the night.

you knew Diana would have no issue in you missing for one night but the team on the other hand would probably throw a fit for it.

whenever there was time to lounge around, you usually hid behind a domino mask and a beanie to cover your hair. your uniform on the other hand was very much like Wally’s. it pulled over your head and covered some of your face and most of your hair so it went unnoticed by everyone.

you were very similar to Robin in that aspect. the two of you hid your identities extremely well and no one outside of your mentors knew who you truly were. Wonder Woman had especially emphasized that a kid still in school should not reveal their real identity and if you wanted to once you turned 18, you could, but until then, she made you swear to never reveal who you were.

“what has you in such deep thought?” Dick asked, giving you a smile. you shook your head, “nothing. just stuff with school,” you replied. Dick had saw the bruises and cuts on your legs that you tried to hide, “you have more bruises?” he asked.

“I told you my MMA training went hard last night,” you exclaimed, “I had a partner that was double my size and she nearly wanted to kill me,” you tried to joke.

you could tell that Dick wasn’t believing what you were saying, “but you shouldn’t be the one to talk! you have a gash running down your arm! don’t think I didn’t notice,” you retaliated. he immediately tried to explain himself, “acrobatics is an intense hobby!” he replied.

you gave him a look before shoving him playfully onto the grass. Dick pushed you back as the two of you finally arrived to the coffee shop. you put your bag down in the booth before meeting Dick at the line.

“just be careful! those cuts and bruises look intense,” he said a bit more seriously. you squeezed his arm in agreement, “of course but same goes for you. the gash on your arm looks pretty deep,” you stated, running your finger on the now healing gash.

he paid for both of your drinks and the two of you made your way to the booth and took out your books.

you had befriended Dick when he first arrived to Gotham Academy. since he was the adopted son to Bruce Wayne, everyone wanted to befriend the son of the man who ran Gotham with an iron fist. you on the other hand had to befriend him because you were the captain of the Mathlete’s team.

that was the club Dick first wanted to join and although he didn’t know exactly how to join, he saw that you were in his AP Calc BC class and saw the jacket you carried around with the medals you on won on it. he quietly followed you to the auditorium that day and scooped out the team before embarrassingly introducing him and explaining why he wanted to join.

you instantly clicked with him and tried him out for the team for a few days when you realized that he was probably the second smartest on the team. he won a plaque on his first round of tournaments and gained honoree status not long after.

“god, I feel like Brunner is killing us with the amount of work he’s giving us,” you growled into your textbook, “does he not realize that people have lives and jobs?” you continued to complain.

Dick shook his head, “not like he cares. he’s just a bitter old man who wants to make us suffer,” he admitted. you laughed, accidentally choking on your coffee by the comment, “it’s true! he knows everyone is excited about the formal so he probably piled on work to make us suffer,” Dick continued.

you threw him your paper as he quickly dodged it. the two of you worked through the worksheets until you felt your communicator go off. you discreetly looked down and saw that Kaldur was calling everyone to Mount Justice for a new mission.

“hey Dick, I have to go,” you admitted a bit sadly, “my mom wants me home to babysit my niece and she needs me home in a few minutes.” Dick nodded understandingly, “yeah, Bruce seems like he needs me home too. see you tomorrow?” he asked, “of course!”

the two of you practically darted in different directions as you ran to the nearest zeta tube location. it was inside of an old building as you quickly discarded your uniform, putting it inside of your bag as you pulled on your other uniform.

as soon as you arrived to Mount Justice, you saw everyone crowding around the table that Red Tornado was explaining the mission at. you stood next to Kaldur and Connor, flashing them an ‘i’m sorry for being really late’ smile. Kaldur patted your shoulder as the table shut off after the instructions were finished.

“so, the pairs are, Wally, Artemis and I, Connor and M’Gann, and ( your name ) with Robin,” Kaldur explained, “since both of you know Gotham Academy well, the two of you will be patrolling inside the school while Connor and M’gann gather the information we need from the teacher.”

you and Robin high-fived, quickly getting on the motorcycles and racing towards the school. you weren’t particularly close with Robin but when the two of you were a team, it was nearly impossible to stop the two of you. the chemistry when you both fought together didn’t go unnoticed by anyone and Kaldur tended to pair you up together when he knew Wally and Robin would goof off the whole time.

“so, you go to Gotham Academy?” Robin asked. you nodded, “I do! I had no idea you went there,” you replied, “I wonder if we’ve ever met each other,” Robin joked.

you gave him a look, “please, I doubt it. I get the sense that you’d probably be really popular and I am the farthest from that,” you admitted. Robin gave you a look, “trust me, I am not popular. are you in any clubs?” Robin asked.

a part of you screamed to tell him but another part of you told you no, “I am but for the sake of keeping my identity a secret, I would rather not say,” you said empathetically. Robin waved your off, “no, I completely understand. the Bat would kill me if he found out someone knew who I was,” you couldn’t help but laugh, “yeah, Wonder Woman would lasso me into another dimension if I did the same.”

once the two of you parked your motorcycles into the parking lot and sneaked your way inside. you both landed by the auditorium and started to walk around.

the patrolling went by with mild conversation. since you had to inform Kaldur about both of you coordinates every few minutes, that was probably the only time you spoke up. it wasn’t until you passed the glass shelves that held all of the Mathlete trophies that you made a sudden stop.

“do you know someone on the team?” Robin asked, gulping his nervousness down a bit. “yeah, I have two friends on the team. one of which I think I like,” you admitted sheepishly.

Robin gave you a smirk, “oh, tell me! tell me! I want to know!” he exclaimed excitedly. you shoved him against the wall, “no! because if you know him? then you’re going to tell him!” you whisper-yelled. Robin waved you off, basically begging you to tell him, “fine, if I tell you then you’re going to have to swear that you’ll never tell him,” you stated.

he nodded as you discreetly opened the glass door and took the photo out, “it’s Dick Grayson. he’s so....” you trailed off not knowing to what to say as you stared at the photo mesmerized. Robin remained silent, standing as stiff as a board, “really?” he whispered.

“yeah, is that an issue?” you asked, a bit surprised by his reaction, “no, not at all. plus, I can’t even lie, the person I’ve been dying to ask out is also on the team,” your eyebrows fluttered to confusion as stared at him, “I told you who my crush is so it’s only fair you tell me!” you said.

Robin shook his head no, “AH! nope! you’re telling me! I told you my crush on Dick and now you have to tell me! plus, I didn’t know you were gay,” you said off-handedly. Robin stared at you now in more confusion, “I’m not? not that there would be an issue with that if I was but regardless, where did you get that idea?” he asked.

you held back your laugh, “I mean, the team is mostly guys unless you have a crush on her,” you pointed to yourself jokingly. Robin didn’t say anything as the silence basically answered your question, “wait, do you have a crush on her?” you asked a bit more seriously now.

“yeah, it’s her. she’s in a few of my classes and my god, she’s gorgeous,” he said “everything I look in for a girl.” your heart stopped dead in it’s tracks as Robin’s communicator went off indicating that Connor and M’Gann got what they needed.

you hadn’t said much after Robin had confessed his crush to you. you had no idea that it was going to be you who he was and although now you were dying to know his true identity, you knew you shouldn’t even bother with it. plus, Robin probably felt the same way you did when you confessed your crush on Dick.

after all of you told Red Tornado the information, you quickly departed from the team, telling them you had to be up at 6:00 to get ready for school. Robin could tell that after he admitted his crush to you, you felt a certain way about it but if anything, he should be the one weirded out. you had a crush on him! but considering your identity was sealed shut, he would never know who it really was that liked him unless he figured out your true identity.

the next morning, you woke up and put on your uniform as you ran your fingers over the burgundy colored gown you were wearing tomorrow. you were beyond excited to be Dick’s date to the formal and you had to be at his place at five to catch dinner before the dance.

once you made it to school, you greeted Dick with a smile, “mornin’ Grayson!” you said happily. he responded by putting his arm around you with the same amount of excitement you had, “what has you so excited today?” he asked.

“nothing! just something you shouldn’t worry about! how was your night?” you asked. you felt Dick’s body go stiff as he tried to conjure up some lie, “fine! Bruce had me doing some work for Wayne Enterprises and it practically put me into the grave,” he joked.

the two of you walked to your math class, slumping immediately into your seats as the morning announcements went off. you were doodling in your notebook as Dick kept muttering to himself about something you couldn’t quiet understand.

throughout the entire day, you could sense that Dick’s attention was not exactly spot on. his mind seemed to be on cloud nine and once the end of the day came, he had a bunch of theories written inside of his notebook about ( your hero name ) and who could she possibly be.

“Dick, you’ve been off all day!” you said now a bit annoyed, “is something wrong?” you asked again. he shook his head no, “no, I’m more than okay! just excited about tomorrow is all,” he replied. you nodded, “me too! I’ll be at your house around five so we can eat dinner and head to the dance,” you mentioned as you saw your mom pull up.

“see ya tomorrow!” Dick exclaimed.

first thing Saturday morning, your mom shook you awake. she said that your stylist would be here any minute to get your hair/makeup done and you needed to shower before then.

you quickly hopped into the shower while you pulled on some pajamas for the time being. as soon as you got out, you brushed your hair and teeth before walking to the living room to see the stylist preparing her things on the kitchen table.

“ready love?” she asked sweetly. you nodded, “ready as ever!” you replied as you sat down.

the time she did your hair, you were making small talk until you heard a knock on the door. your mom mentioned she’d get it and went to the door. when she got back, she was holding a bag of food.

“I think Dick sent you food,” she joked as she read the note, “oh yeah, it was 100% him,” she said as she showed you the note.

“can’t wait for tonight! your favorite from Scouts is inside of the boxes.”

“aw, how sweet of him!” your stylist said, “yeah, he’s one of a kind,” you said not realizing what you were saying. your mom could see the love for him in your eyes and swooned silently.

after your hair was done, you had basically devoured the food before your stylist got to work on your makeup. this time, it didn’t take as much time. by the time she finished, you had about an hour to put on your dress and do the finishing touches to your look before you had to leave.

the dress was short from the front as it got longer from the back. it kind of dragged but that was what made you fall in love with it in the first place. you pulled the dress from your closet and had your mom help you zip it up as she put on the necklace she wore the day of her winter formal on you.

“you look amazing sweety! let me take a few photos before we head out!”

you rolled your eyes playfully as you posed a few times. after you and her got into the car, you made your way to the manor. you had been there countless times and knew the gate code by memory by this point. you had messaged Dick that you were outside and saw him in the suit he was wearing.

“wow, you look gorgeous,” Dick whispered, taking you in. you tried to shake off the compliment but you couldn’t as both Alfred and your mom told you to hold still as they took photos. it wasn’t long after that Bruce came out, introducing himself to your mom and instantly making her swoon, “I’ll see you tonight,” she told you as she gave Dick a look, “take care of my daughter,” she stated, now more seriously.

Dick nodded nervously as Alfred led you into the dining room where the dinner was plated and ready to eat. it didn’t feel like a date as eating with Dick was not uncommon. this time, you both were just dressed extremely fancy.

Alfred had made you steak and the two of you basically downed it like starving caveman. you and Dick made sure that you didn’t stain yourselves as Alfred informed that the car was warmed up and ready to take you to the dance. Dick had excused himself to the bathroom as Bruce stood in front of you.

you gulped nervously as he basically towered over you, “please continue making my son happy,” was all he said before leaving back upstairs. you didn’t even get a chance to respond as Dick walked in and basically pulled you towards the car.

the formal was already going when the two of you arrived. you could hear the music blaring from outside and in order to get in, you had to pass the ‘paparazzi’ Gotham Academy set up. you two annoyingly took the photos that were being taken by people from the yearbook team and entered the auditorium.

you smiled at Dick as you both found a few of your mutual friends and sat down with them. the night was one you knew you weren’t going to forget as Dick had his arm around you the entire time. you could feel him squeezing your shoulder every time he noticed someone checking you out.

“I love this song!” you exclaimed, hearing ‘New Light’ by John Mayer playing, “wanna dance?” he asked. you instantly nodded and walked onto the dance floor.

“Oh I want a take two. I wanna break through. I wanna know the real thing about you so I can see you in a new light.”

the two of you danced, a bit closer than you intended but not that you were complaining.

song after song came and it wasn’t until you heard a beep going off when you realized what was happening. it was the teams communicator indicating that Kaldur wanted everyone at Mount Justice again. you sighed knowing if you didn’t answer, you’d probably get berated for skipping out.

secondly, you had told Kaldur unless it was an emergency, not to contact you so it must’ve been urgent if he was. you stared at Dick who was standing by the table, staring at something when you realized you had to break the news to him.

“hey Dick, there was an emergency at home and I need to leave like right now.” you felt tears pricking your eyes as you just wanted to tell the team to fuck off for ruining your night with Dick, “it’s okay! Bruce called me just now and said something happened to Alfred and I should head home,” he said.

you sighed in relief as you told him you hoped everything with Alfred was okay and you’d see him on Monday. it now had dawned on you that your spare uniform was inside of Mount Justice and you would have no time to get the one from your house.

the only thing you had on you was your domino mask which you knew would make due until you changed into your uniform. you found the nearest zeta tube and teleported to Mount Justice.

your hero name rang off through the telecom, catching everyone’s attention. you had slipped on your domino mask but your worst fear thus far came true. everyone was surrounding the zeta tube which you came from and saw your hair.

“wow, you look great,” Connor and Wally murmured to themselves. Kaldur slapped them in the head as he stared at your apologetically, “I know tonight was your night off but Rob isn’t here either and we both need you for this mission. some of the league is on their way and we need their approval before we go save the kids who are being held hostage,” Kaldur explained.

you heard Robin’s name ring through the lair as he ran in with urgency. you looked from Kaldur and stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him. it took Robin a few seconds to look at you but when he did, it was like he saw a ghost in front of him.

behind his sunglass and your domino mask, it was like a stare off. you felt like the wind was knocked out of you and held onto the table to catch your balance as Robin just stood in place.

“uh is something wrong?” Wally asked seeing your reactions. both you and Robin were stunned into silence as you didn’t know what to say. Batman, Wonder Woman, and Superman’s name now rang through the lair as they entered the main floor.

they couldn’t help but wonder what was going on as a thick silence was hanging in the air. both Batman and Wonder Woman immediately realized the situation and looked at each other as they put two and two together. the two of you, unintentionally revealed your identities to each other, and Batman more than Wonder Woman knew the two of you were going to be together tonight but what he didn’t expect was that the two of you were going to the lair dressed in the outfits you both wore to the dance.

“Superman will accompany you on the trip. ( your hero name ) and Robin will stay back,” everyone looked at Batman as Wonder Woman nodded and grabbed you by the shoulder, Batman doing the same with Robin, “why? what happened?” Wally exclaimed.

“nothing that concerns you Flash, now follow Superman’s orders,” was all Batman said before taking you two into an empty room with Diana following behind you.

as soon as the door shut, you stared at Dick, his mask now off as you did the same. you didn’t know how to feel. your crush, your best friend, someone you loved dearly this entire time was also on the team and you had no idea what to do.

“so, as you can see we have a situation. both of you know each others identities and it’s best we keep it between each other. she now knows my real identity and will remain the only one who does know.”

Diana nodded, “the two of you now hold each others biggest secret and I think it’s best we both leave so you can talk it out,” she mentioned as she escorted Batman out of the room to leave you guys alone.

Dick stared at you as he tried to read your expression, “all this time we left each other for stupid reasons, we were meeting each other again, just in our different identities?” was what he said. you nodded, “were you ever going to tell me?” you whispered.

Dick walked up to you and held you close, “truthfully, when the time was right and with the bat’s approval, I was. everything I’ve ever said, tonight, the night we patrolled school together, everything! I meant it. you’re my best friend. you’re also someone I want to keep by my side together,” he finally confessed.

you stared up at Dick before doing the one thing you always wanted to do. you leaned up and kissed him deeply. he was completely taken back but kissed you back. your arms wrapped his neck as he brought you in even closer.

“wow, this was not how I expected the night to go,” you murmured against his lips, “for sure but I mean, we have the lair tonight and it’s completely empty. I want to give you that final dance of the night,” he said as he grabbed your hand and led you to the main floor again.

you stared at Dick and took his hand as he swayed you to the song you first danced back at the formal.

“take a ride up to Malibu, I just wanna sit and look at you, look at you. what would it matter if your friends knew? who cares what other people say anyway.”

#dc #DC imagines #dc imagine #young justice #young justice imagine #yj imagines #dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #robin imagine #robin x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

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Damijon Secret Santa

@woahjaybird happy holidays ris!!!!!!!!!! i admit, i was a bit confused, bc you signed up for a ship fic exchange and requested platonic bros, but whatever. i hope you like it!

To be honest, it was something Damian said a lot.

Jon heard those words practically every time Damian opened his mouth: in the middle of a mission, when they were baking pies with Ma Kent, during a stakeout, on a rooftop eating takeout.

They used to be annoying. God, sometimes Jon just wanted to drop his restraint and punch Damian in the face, full-force. Especially when he said those words, again and again and again. Over time, though, Jon grew used to them, and after a while, they just began to amused him.

You should be afraid of me.

Because Jon never understood those words. What was there to be scared of?

The two of them were sitting on a rooftop in Metropolis, Jon with his long legs dangling over the side of the building, Damian cross-legged next to him. Taking a long slurp of his smoothie, Jon glanced over at Damian, who was outlining their plan of attack for tomorrow-- a mission to take down an arms dealer who had been working out of Metropolis for months. With Dad stretched thin over League, international, and intergalactic affairs, criminals were becoming a little less hesitant to step foot into the city. Superboy and Robin would be taking care of that soon.

Jon was listening, he really was. The battle plans were definitely lodging themselves somewhere in Jon’s subconsciousness. But he had to admit, most of his attention was fixed firmly on Damian himself.

Jon remembered the days the prickly young boy would throw his nose up haughtily in the air, state he’d been intelligent enough to have a doctorate at seven years old, and miff at anyone who insinuated otherwise. It was a far sight from when Damian had curled himself up on Jon’s bed, and under the guise of watching a movie, told Jon about his acceptance into the most prestigious art schools in Gotham.

And that was the reason behind Jon’s inattention, wasn’t it? Damian was eighteen, now. Their age difference didn’t seem like much when they were ten and thirteen and going against the world with all the confidence of a couple boys playing pretend. Now, Damian had a weariness in his shoulders, but lips that quirked up into a smile far too often, skin layered in scars but hands gentler than Jon ever thought he was capable of. Jon himself was a fumbling, awkward fifteen year old with jeans that were always too short, hair that was always too messy. And Jon used to think he was over feeling inferior to his best friend.

He’d miss him. Jon would miss Damian so much. Sure, Damian would probably try and keep their visits somewhat consistent, but work would pile up, and a curator would probably see Damian’s talents and whisk him away to the world of the famous artists, and Damian would forget he ever had a friend named Jon and would go on to become a household name while Jon spent the rest of his life living in his parents’ house and updating his mediocre blog that he started because of a dare.

No, he wasn’t being dramatic, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, Damian seemed to catch onto his lack of attention and snapped his fingers underneath Jon’s nose, startling him back to focus.

Never one to sugarcoat, Damian said, “You look miserable.”

“What? No, I’m fine!” Jon didn’t know why he even tried to play it off, he’d never been able to lie to Damian.

“Right. My mistake. Someone who was fine would definitely spend the past hour drinking out of a smoothie cup that’s already empty.”

Huh. Jon hadn’t even realized he’d finished the drink. He put it to the side and shook his head. “Really, it’s not a pro-oblem.” Oh, goddamnit.

“Your voice cracks are ridiculous,” Damian informed him. Why had Jon ever thought he’d changed? That smug voice was as irritating as ever.

“Yeah, they’re hilarious, thanks.”

“I don’t understand why you’re upset.” Apparently, this matter was serious enough for Damian to put his map down. Wasn’t that comforting?

But Jon had never liked to keep things from his best friend. “That. That’s what’s bothering me.”

“Your voice cracks?” Now Damian just sounded confused.

“Yes! No, I don’t know. I just don’t like them.” Jon crossed his arms in frustration.

When he looked over at Damian, the other boy’s eyes were wide, and in that stupidly deep and non-cracking voice, he said, “This conversation has gone well past the point of understanding and I’m going to continue with the plan now.”

Jon sighed. “No, Damian, it’s not that.”

“Then?”

Searching for the right words, Jon drummed his fingers together. “You...you’re going off to that fancy art school soon. You’re all grown up. And here I am with my stupid video games and voice cracks.”

Jon wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting. Damian could never be called a master of social interaction, and his basic settings were sarcastic, condescending, or incredulous. Still, Jon expected something a bit kinder than:

“You’re such a moron, Jonathan.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Jon stared at Damian for a moment, blinking stupidly. “So I tell you about the problem that’s been eating me up for weeks, and all you say is that I’m a moron? Thank you so much for that.”

“I’m telling you you’re a moron because you’re worrying about something so inconsequential.”

“Oh please, do elaborate.”

Damian paused, then let out a tired sigh, turning to face Jon. This was going to be a serious conversation, then.

“Jonathan. I have told you time and time again. You should be scared of me-”

“Oh my god,” Jon interrupted. “This stuff, again?” He was laughing now. “I know, I know. You should be horrified, cower in terror underneath my ruthlessness, blah blah blah. You say it all the time, I get it. I should be scared of you.”

Damian stared at him. “Are you done?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m tired of you bringing up the same thing over and over, Damian.”

“And in saying that, you just proved my point.”

Jon frowned in confusion. “What?”

“I’ve always said that you should be afraid of me. But you never have been, not since the moment we met.”

“Like there’s anything to be scared of.”

“Yes, Jonathan. There is.” Damian looked Jon in the eye, his gaze sharp and serious.

Damian’s honesty was strange, something Jon wasn’t used to, so he tried to play it off with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, assassin training’s tough-”

“When I was six years old, I murdered a man in front of his daughter.”

Jon fell silent.

“I used to command an entire legion in my grandfather’s army. We completely destroyed and took down three different countries.”

“Damian, I-”

“Once, Grandfather put me in a straightjacket and wrapped me in chains, surrounded by trained guards, with no instruction other than to escape. And I did.”

Hesitantly, Jon said, “I never knew.”

“Because I never told you. That, and so much more, is why everybody I ever know has been scared of me.”

“Even Nightwing?”

“Nightwing grew out of it eventually,” Damian admitted. “But everyone else. The rest of the bats. Father. Even Mother. There’s fear in their eyes when they look at me.”

“Oh. Uh,” Jon shrugged. “That sucks.”

“That sucks?” Damian said, dry but amused.

“I didn’t know what else to say!” Jon defended.

“See? That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Jon furrowed his eyebrows. “You’ve been trying to tell me it sucks? Because I already knew it sucks.”

“Jonathan…” Damian trailed off, then grabbed Jon’s wrists with his own hands.

“Hey!” Jon protested, though only out of surprise. Because Damain’s hands were warm and his thumb was pressing down on Jon’s pulse point and Jon could honestly say he had no objection to this.

Damian’s face showed nothing but piercing intensity: brows furred and eyes locked on Jon’s own. “Jon. Look me in the eyes, and tell me you’re scared of me.”

“But I’m not?”

“I just told you things that would have grown men running away from me in terror. Tell me at least some of that scares you.”

“No,” Jon shook his head and gripped the other’s boy’s wrists back. “No. I’m not scared of you.”

Letting out a breath, Damian moved away. For a moment, Jon found himself chasing that warmth.

“You are the only person who’s ever thought that.” Damian turned, shifting to mirror Jon’s position. Staring out over the city, a billboard washed colours over Damian’s face. He looked like a work of art, and Jon had no idea how anybody could ever fear him.

“You’re my best friend, Damian.” Jon shrugged, despite the fact that Damian couldn’t see him. “I’ve seen you scream at a machine for losing at Cheese Viking. I’ve seen you befriend a little squirrel you found on Ma’s farm. So how exactly am I supposed to be afraid of you?”

Damian nodded, as if that solidified something. “If you really think that I would leave the only person that isn’t scared of me, if you think that I would stop being friends with someone who has always thought of me as a human first and a weapon second just because I’m going to a university, then you are the biggest moron to ever walk the face of the earth.”

Stunned, Jon moved to sit next to Damian. “Oh.”

Jon had always been aware of their height difference, made plenty of jokes about it, but it really struck him how much smaller Damian was when the older boy turned to look up and smile at him. “So stop worrying, okay Kent? It’s unbecoming.”

“Whatever you say,” Jon acquiesced.

Damian wasn’t leaving for good. Damian, with his burning green eyes and molten beauty, still wanted to be friends with him.

With a smile on his face, Jon turned to look out at the city, letting the quiet wash over him. At his side, Damian did the same. A huge thank you to @iamwhelmed for organizing the secret santa this year!!

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @elles-shitposts-personified @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @iconbicon

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lightsupinthenorth · 4 years

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Harringrove teachers AU part 2

Part 1

First of all, thank you very much to everyone who read, liked and/or reblogged the first part. Also, to the people who reacted or said nice things in the tags: you made my day with your sweet words <3

Tag list: @twoprettyboys, @inkedplume, @marianaosborne, @liglitterbug, @hmg621 @spreckle @goldenweatherharringrove

If anyone wants to be added to or taken off the tag list for the future posts of this AU, let me know ;)

Trying to avoid Steve Harrington soon proved to be impossible. He was pretty much everywhere. The fact he was close to Robin and Heather, who Billy himself had quickly befriended, didn’t help. Steve was always hanging with them in the teachers’ lounge before class and eating with them at the cafeteria at lunch. And, as if it weren’t awkward enough already, Steve and Billy almost never interacted directly. Apparently, Steve was tolerating Billy’s presence, but it didn’t go any further than that. Beside a half hearted “hello” when they saw each other, Steve barely ever said anything to him.

Billy tried to start conversations with him. Several times. But Steve always answered shortly, so Billy dropped it.

And he was angry about it.

Because, even though it pained it greatly to admit it, Billy would have loved for Steve and him to be friends.

Every single person in this school seemed to adore Steve, from the students to the staff.

At least a couple of Billy’s students arrived late to English whenever they had Math with Steve beforehand. They always served Billy the same excuse: they had a question of utmost important to ask “Mr. Harrington”, and it couldn’t have waited their next Math class. Billy didn’t buy the bullshit. Strangely, no one arrived late because they had something to discuss with the teacher when they had History with Murray or Science with Sam before English. Half the students had a crush on “Mr. Harrington”, and that was it.

The students regarding Steve like some kind of God was bad enough without the other teachers doing it too. Robin and Heather hugged him all the time, and Murray was constantly holding him hostage about some weird documentary he had watched or whatever theory he had last come up with, and the school counselor, Joyce, smiled extra warm every time she saw him. Even Hopper, the headmaster, would light up when he talked with Steve.

And Billy understood why. Because, while Steve didn’t lose any love on Billy, he was a ray of sunshine to everyone else. He gave his coworkers bright smiles, asked them how they were as if he genuinely cared (and he probably did) about what was going on in their lives, he gave his students encouragements when they came to the teachers’ lounge asking for him during recess (which happened far more often that it should have) because they had trouble with some mathematical concept that Billy didn’t give a damn about.

Steve was a saint with everlasting patience… Except when it came to Billy, apparently. And Billy was so envious he was nearly green with it.

He was also feeling self-conscious, wondering what Steve had seen in him to shun him even though his kindness knew no bound where anyone else was concerned. It couldn’t just be that Billy looked unprofessional, right? Some people that he’d seen Steve interact with enthusiastically had traits far more negative than that, at least in Billy’s book. It made no sense and frustrated him to no end.

He was starting to think that Steve’s dislike of him was just a visceral reaction and had no valid reason. Then, Steve had to go and do something confusing.

Billy was eating lunch in the cafeteria, waiting for Heather and Robin (and Steve, by extension) to join him, and Steve sat down in front of him. Billy immediately noticed the huge piece of chocolate cake on his tray.

“How come you got some cake? I saw someone take the last piece right in front of me.”

Billy was feeling absurdly sour over it. He could have really gone for something sweet.

“Oh… Maria saved it for me.” Steve admitted.

At least, he had the decency to look sheepish.

“Right…” Billy replied, pouting a little.

Of course, one of the lunch ladies had put a piece of cake aside just for the Lord and Savior of Hawkins High. Billy should have known.

“Do you want it?”

Billy blinked at Steve, answering a second too late to appear unsurprised by the question.

“Ugh… no, thank you.”

Had Steve really… offered to give him his dessert? Had he really been nice to Billy? Or had Billy just hallucinated the entire thing?

“You sure? I honestly wouldn’t mind…” Steve said, looking at his plate rather than at Billy.

He was just saying that to be polite, obviously. Billy wasn’t going to take his dessert away from him. It would only make Steve dislike him more.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Steve looked up from his plate and offered a small forced smile, before focusing on his food once again.

Things were already back to normal (ie. Steve not talking to him), then.

Heather and Robin arrived barely a minute later, saving them from the awkward silence that had taken place after their thirty-second conversation (if it could even be called that).

As soon as he had finished eating, Steve announced:

“I’ve gotta scoot. I have to prepare some stuff before my next class.”

He had already got up from his chair when he reached the end of his sentence.

“You still on for tomorrow?” Robin asked.

“Sure thing. See you then!”

Steve took his tray and walked toward the exit in quick strides.

“What’s tomorrow?” Billy asked.

“We’re going to Benny’s coffee shop to grade some papers. You can come if you want.”

Billy had just played himself, hadn’t he? He had asked out of curiosity. He hadn’t been expecting to be invited along to whatever Robin and Steve had planned.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude”, was Billy’s last ditched effort to avoid what was sure to be an extremely awkward afternoon.

He could have come up with some fake excuse, but he was uncomfortable with the idea of lying to Robin. Because she’d been nice to him so far, and also because he was almost certain she would see right through him. She was far too observant for Billy’s good.

“Nonsense, you wouldn’t be intruding.” Robin rolled her eyes.

“Uh… okay, then. Thanks.”

Billy was about to eat his vanilla pudding, aka his sad non-chocolate cake dessert, when Max came up to their table and awkwardly said “hello” to Heather and Robin.

“Something you want?” Billy questioned, because she was obviously there to ask him something but wouldn’t spit it out.

“I’m going to Art club this afternoon. It ends at six… Will you come get me?”

Billy arched an eyebrow.

“We have an Art club?”

Also, since when was Max into art?

“Yeah… well actually today’s the first session… whatever. Will you drive me back home or not?”

“Can’t you skate?”

Now Billy was just being an asshole. Max had been skating to and from school most days since, according to her, it was “uncool” to be seen hanging with a teacher… which was stupid because 1. Billy was her brother, and 2. There was nothing uncool about him.

“I… ugh… well. I broke my skateboard.”

Max bit her lower lip.

Billy sighed.

“Again?”

“Yeah… sorry.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll drive you home.” Billy conceded, making a quick mental note to go buy Max a new skateboard. For the third time this year.

“Thanks. Later.”

She was gone as quickly as she had come, leaving Billy to deal with Robin and Heather’s puzzled faces.

“What was that?” Heather asked.

“Maxine Mayfield…?” Billy said, hoping to avoid this particular conversation.

The universe didn’t want him to avoid things that day, though.

“I know that, dumbass. You know each other?”

“Yeah, she’s my sister.”

“What?! How come we didn’t know that?”

“We don’t have the same name, whatever. It’s not that big a deal.” Billy mumbled.

“Yeah… but still… you could have told us.”

“Here honey, have some cake, it’s delicious.” Robin said, extending her fork to Heather.

Billy was thankful for the distraction. But he mainly focused on the cake, that he had only now taken notice of.

“Did Maria save that for you?” He asked.

Robin frowned.

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“Never mind.” Billy said.

Billy chose to stay at school after his last class and to wait in the teachers’ lounge until Art club was over and Max was ready to go home. He would have used the time to grade some papers, but he was supposed to do that tomorrow afternoon with Robin… and Steve. So he spent the hour and a half reading, instead.

He went to the classroom, which Max had given him the number of by text, five minutes before the session was supposed to end. He waited at least fifteen minutes before the first student left the room, greeting Billy on the way out.

Max came out last, along with El, the headmaster’s adopted daughter. She was one of Billy’s students. She had some troubles in English because, from what he had been told, she had only started learning the language recently. She was pretty quiet, maybe because of that exact reason, but she seemed like a very sweet girl. It would be good for Max to hang out with her. Billy didn’t dare ask because he didn’t want to put Max on the spot or make her feel bad, but he feared she had yet to make friends at school.

Billy’s thoughts were interrupted when none other than Steve Harrington emerged from the classroom right after the girls. Well, that explained the ten minutes Billy had had to wait.

Steve had paints all over his hands, and some on his shirt. There was even a little blue spot on his cheek. He looked painfully cute. Billy didn’t like it one bit.

“Billy?” Steve asked, sounding as shocked as Billy felt. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to pick my sister up.” He said, gesturing to Max. “You run the Art club?”

Billy didn’t mean to sound this disbelieving, but he was having a hard time reconciling Math teacher and art enthusiast. Was that judgmental? Was Billy a hypocrite?

“We don’t have a real art teacher so… uh… for lack of a better option, I’m taking care of it for the time being.”

“You’re great at it, Steve.” El said with a beaming smile.

Did all his students call him Steve or was it only the headmaster’s daughter? Billy was intrigued.

“Oh thanks, El. You’re too nice.”

Billy almost said: “that’s the pot calling the kettle black”, but he thankfully kept his mouth shut.

Steve locked the classroom door and then turned back to them.

“Well, girls, Billy, have a good weekend. See you on Monday.”

“Actually, you’ll be seeing me tomorrow.”

What had happened to Billy’s mouth staying shut?

“Oh… you’re coming? That’s… that’s great.” Steve stammered.

He smiled, but it was too late: Billy had seen the disappointment in his eyes.

“Yeah… great. Have a good evening, Steve.” He sounded cold, as he said it.

“Y-you too.”

Yes… The coffee date was going to go swimmingly.

#Harringrove #Harringrove teachers AU #Billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington #Robin Buckley #Heather Holloway #Max Mayfield #Eleven Jane Hopper #a bunch of other characters mentionned #Stranger Things #my writing

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random-fandom-prompts · 4 years

Text

a conundrum of competing legacies and learning to live for yourself

in many alternate universes, damian wayne becomes a villain. he gets sick and tired of being treated like he will never change, treated like he’s made of glass, treated like a murderer. like a bad person.

so, if people are never going to believe that he’s different, he’s changed, he’s a good person now, really! then why not give the people what they want?

you wanted me to be evil? fine.

so be it.

he fulfills his legacy. becomes the demon’s head. the long line of al ghuls will not end with him. the people are happy, but is damian?

but this is not that story. this isn’t a story where the heroes are right. everyone makes mistakes, everyone is wrong sometimes, and what are heroes if not everyone?

so no. this isn’t a story where a good boy faces the whole world telling him he’s evil and his spirit shattering. this is a story about defying legacies. defying family names and bloodlines and expectations.

in many alternate universes, and indeed maybe the future, damian wayne becomes evil.

but in this one? in this one he learns that you don’t have to wear a cape to save people.

and maybe sometimes, sometimes it’s ok to save yourself.

in the end, he goes to jason. tracks him down to a rundown apartment in crime alley, and they talk.

the one thing their family has never been good at.

what do i do, to- jason. i can't go back to bruce, and i definitely can't go back to the league. i- i can’t-

that's what they want me to do. i’m done with doing what they want, but i don’t-

calm down, kid. this is an easy problem to fix. what do you want to do?

i don’t- i don’t want-

i don’t want to fight anymore.

then don't.

----------

in the end, he goes to england. maybe it’s for a new start, maybe it’s to remind him of what was. what could’ve been.

whatever the reason, he goes.

he rents a small house in a small town in the countryside, and he draws.

and draws

and draws.

he draws pictures of the birds, of the goldfinches that nest on his windowsill, of the robins in the trees. (and isn’t that just ironic.)

(he draws to distract himself from the empty house.

draws to distract himself from the empty inside.)

he can live with his neighbors constantly asking if he wants to have tea and-

come in dear boy! we have tea and crumpets and you need a little more meat on those bones!

he declines.

----------

but they are persistent, and in the end he says yes.

----------

their tea tastes like pen- like al- like his and he can’t he can’t-

he’s crying.

but he’s in the house of two grandmothers who couldn’t have children and he doesn’t eat enough, and goddammit they will save this breaking boy if it's the last thing they do.

look at those scars, riri. he needs us.

i know, anne. i know.

----------

they let him cry, which is nice.

they sit near him, but not enough to crowd. close enough for him to go to them, which he appreciates.

he cries and he cries and he cries.

you look like you need someone to talk to dearie. i can’t promise that we will understand, but i can promise that we will listen. a boy like you shouldn't have to carry all this weight alone.

damian wants to scream, to yell: you don't understand!! i’ve lost everything! everyone! they all think i’m evil and i can’t replace him, please-

but they said they would listen, and damian doesn't want to fight anymore. he’s tired, and so he talks.

it's what he would like, and isn't that enough?

----------

damian doesn't spare details. he doesn't care enough to hide anymore.

he should care. he should be wary. they could spill his secrets in a second, but the tea smells like home and their expressions are open, and really. what does he have left to lose?

so he spills his secrets to these sweet old ladies who saw a broken, lonely boy, and offered him some tea despite his prickly exterior, despite his god awful superiority complex, despite his saying: no, i don’t want your stupid tea, you hear me? leave. me. alone.

they saw this broken boy, and they didn't need capes to try and save him.

----------

my first kill was at four, a traitor to the crown, and i was excited.

i tried to kill him! simply because i was jealous. he was everything i wasn't, and i wanted him dead for it.

grayson helped me a lot. they both did. they were my fathers when bruce couldn't be.

and jon, sweet, kind jon, partner, my best friend, superboy and robin, one of the only people on this horrid planet who didn't think i was (am) a terrible person, he got lost in space and suddenly he's seventeen and wants nothing to do with me, he goes to the future with hardly a goodbye, and-

he shot him and he lost his memories, my mentor, my brother, one of the only people in that god awful house who actually cared.

and my team- old team now, i guess, stopped me from killing him, but they just keep escaping! it's an endless cycle of jail and needless murder, it's ridding the world of a monster, and my hands are already covered in blood, and if there is one thing i learned from my mother it's to play by the cheater’s rules-

and he crushed his skull in front of me! i tasted his brain, i can’t-

i can’t-

i don’t want to fight anymore, but what else is there?

----------

in the end, he stays over. they tuck him in in a flowery comforter with bird patterned wallpaper, and he sleeps for the first time in what feels like years.

marjorie and anne talk in quiet whispers in their bedroom about how to help this poor broken kid, this little robin with too many legacies to live up to.

he needs therapy, anne.

i agree riri, but this isn't something that we should tell just anyone, i’d offer to help but i retired years ago.

are you really going to let this poor boy go? he might turn to worse things than disassociation if we leave him be.

i know, i know.

----------

in the end, they give him two choices.

you can stay here, and go to a therapist, or you can stay here, and talk to marjorie, who’s a retired therapist.

he wants to say no, to argue. i can take care of myself, i’ve been doing it for years, i don’t need the help of some old decrepit ladies-

but damian doesn't want to fight anymore, and he so he doesn't.

and, oh, doesn't being ok just sound magical?

i will stay, and i will talk to marjorie. but i don't have to talk about anything i don’t want too.

and for now, that's enough.

and for now, maybe he can believe that hope has room for him, too.

----------

have you tried writing letters to him, dearie? i know you love to draw, and that's a great coping mechanism, but maybe writing will help?

and it's been about a month here, here with his sweet, lesbian grandmas, and they are just trying to help, and maybe, just maybe, they are softening his edges just a bit.

and really, what harm will it do?

----------

dear pennyworth,

hello.

when i was young, mother used to tell me that there was a place for everyone after death. that allah had room in his heart for everyone.

excuse my language, but grandfather taught me that was bullshit.

but knowing so many people who have died and come back, (myself included,) has made me start to believe her more.

and maybe it's just that small part of me hoping i will get to see you again, or maybe it's a fool's hope, but living here, with marjorie and anne, they’ve taught me that maybe hope isn't so foolish after all.

so maybe i can afford a little hope.

your young charge,

damian wayne.

----------

the thing about legacies, sweetheart, is that they often leave you in the shadows. don't you think you deserve a little sun?

it's been about three months here, with marjorie and anne, and, yeah, doesn't he deserve a little sun?

things are starting to look up, and maybe it's time to test his wings.

----------

dear alfred,

it's been about three years here, in england with marjorie and anne. and honestly? i think this is the happiest i’ve been.

there have been setbacks, like starting school again, and bruce trying to contact me, but i think i’ve found something here.

i started finding it when i first moved to the manor, with you and with grayson. i started finding it while befriending jon, getting titus and alfred. (i miss them.)

started finding it when i found my first family.

i think i lost it, for a bit there. when you died, when richard lost his memory, when jon left for the future.

but i found it here, in england, with marjorie and anne and the birds i’ve befriended in the forest, and the few people i've found at school who tolerate me.

i’ve changed, alfred. i don’t quite think you’d recognize me. i suppose i must introduce myself, then.

so hello. my name is sparrow jon crane.

what i’ve been trying to find all my life, alfred, was myself. and i think i’ve finally got it.

your great grandson,

sparrow crane.

this is the longest thing ive ever written and GODDAMN am i proud of it

#damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #fic #fanfiction #batman fanfic #letters #dealing with grief #finding yourself #dc #probably too much bird symbolism #dami leaves gotham and robin after that one comic and gets adopted by british lesbian grandmas and finds himself after all the tragedy #i might write a sequel where he goes back to gotham to get some closure #idk #maybe out of character but if dc really hates damian so much just do this and dont touch his character for awhile #anyway yeah #im super proud of this

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gayce-ventura · 4 years

Text

The Truth Comes Out

I got this idea while talking to @benjitheartist, sat on it for a few days but I needed to write it. Cross posted to AO3

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Theo sat in Harvey’s garage covered in dirt, panting. He, Harvey, and Robin had just corralled the jocks-turned-pigs into Theo’s barn, and were trying to wrap their heads around what just happened. “I am never eating bacon again.” The small boy said.

Theo let out a sigh and looked at Harvey, who nodded his head sadly. Theo looked back to his boyfriend. “Robin, there's a few things you need to know about Greendale.”

Robin sat up quickly, almost panicked in his state. “Theo, wait. Let me go first.” The taller boy took a deep breath. “There’s some things I need to tell you…” He looked to Havey, “both of you.”

Theo frowned slightly and looked over to Harvey. Harvey just shrugged and the boys turned back to Robin. What could the sweet boy possibly tell them? When they were the ones surrounded by demons and magic? What could possibly be more important that Greendale’s truth?

Robin nervously touched his hair, wrapping his arms around himself. “So...you know the people at the carnival are bad? Well...I was a part of them…”

Theo jumped up at the confession, and backed away from his boyfriend. Harvey stood up, and placed himself between the two other boys, shielding Theo from Robin. “What do you mean, with them?” Harvey spit out.

Robin stood up as well, holding his hands out in front of himself. “Ok let me...let me explain. The carnival employees? They’re pagans...we’re pagans. We came here because Carcosa could sense a shift in power. I know...that there are witches here. I know Sabrina’s a witch. We came here to raise our gods, specifically one god. The Green Man.”

Harvey backed Theo up further away from the taller boy. “So what, what is this? Are you using us? Why are you here? What do you want with Theo?” He was pissed.

Robin glanced down sadly. “For the Green Man to awaken, we needed a sacrifice. A virgin sacrifice. Circe got Ms. Wardwell, Nagaina was to watch you, Harvey...and I was tasked to watch Theo…” He hung his head low.

Theo hissed in a breath, and backed as far away from Robin as he could. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. He was being used. Robin only wanted him as some sacrifice for some stupid god. Pain flooded his chest. He should have known, Robin accepted him too easily. The taller boy didn’t want Theo. Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to fall with each passing moment.

The small boy let out a pained sigh. “So, you’re using me?”

Robin quickly looked up at the sound of Theo’s pained voice. He slightly moved towards the boy, but one look at Harvey’s face, and he stopped. “No, no, Theo, no...well yes. At first. But Theo, you changed me. You showed me true affection and kindness. My family never showed me anything like that. I want nothing to do with them anymore, I just want you Theo.”

Tears streaming down his face, Theo shook his head. He couldn’t speak, his heart was breaking in his chest. Harvey wrapped his arm around his friend, glaring at the taller boy. “That doesn’t make up for your betrayal Robin. Tell us everything, down to every detail, and then maybe we’ll think about forgiving you.” The pissed boy said.

Robin nodded sadly, tears in his eyes. “Ok,” he sniffed, “like I said, we came here to raise the Green Man. Carcosa, who is the great god Pan, sensed the diminishing powers of the witches. We came to Greendale, because it was the best place, and was safest for us. When the Green Man comes, he’s going to wreak havoc on the world. Carcosa gave me the task of infiltrating the school, and finding a virgin. That’s why I bumped into you Theo.

“I befriended you at first because it’s what was expected of me. But the more I got to know you, the more I doubted my family's plans. You’re such a loving and gentle person Theo, you make me so happy. And when you defended me from the jocks earlier today, I knew. I knew that I would follow you to hell and back. I don’t want what my family wants. I told you that earlier Theo. I want you. And I’m so sorry. I’m putting all of this out there so you know what you’re getting into. If you don’t want to see me again, I one hundred percent understand.” Tears streamed down Robin’s face, and he wrung his hands together sadly.

Theo sniffed, wiped his eyes, and went to walk around Harvey. The other boy tried to stop him, but Theo just shook his head. He walked over to Robin, and placed his hand on the boy's face, lifting it to meet his eyes. “You promise that you’re not with them anymore?”

Robin nodded his head vigorously, and Theo hugged him tightly. “I’m still pretty mad at you, but I like you a lot Robin. I don’t want to lose you, and if you say you’ve changed, then I believe you.”

Robin smiled a watery smile and kissed his boyfriend. Harvey let out a scoff, and the boys pulled apart. Robin sighed, “I know you’re mad at me Harvey, but please. I don’t want any part of their plan anymore. I want to help you guys.”

Theo looked over at Harvey. “Harvey please. He didn’t have to tell us any of this. I believe that he wants to change, that he has changed. Give him another chance, please.” Theo pulled out his puppy dog eyes.

Harvey looked away and clenched his jaw. Sighing, he nodded his head, and looked back over to the two. He saw a gigantic smile on Theo’s face. Harvey may not be happy with Ribbon, but that giant smile made his heart melt. Theo was his best friend, his brother, and if Robin made him happy, he would deal with his anger.

For the next few minutes, the boys composed themselves. They all smiled and laughed at how the other looked, covered in mud and gunk. Robin threw his arm over Theo’s shoulder, and Theo cuffed Harvey’s arms. They would be ok. They would overcome this bump. But first, they had to take down the pagans.

#goodnam #throbin #theo putnam #robin goodfellow x theo putnam #theo caos #robin caos #robin goodfellow #robin x theo #goodnam fanfic #goodnam fic #chilling adventures of sabrina #chilling adventures of sabrina fanfic #caos #caos fanfic #harvey kinkle

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poeticsandaliens · 6 years

Text

Miracle

Rating: M because Will curses like a truck driver.

Timeline: Post-MS IV (I know, I know. If you look closely, you can see my middle finger pointing directly at Chris Carter.)

Summary: Six times Dana Scully called Will a miracle and what that word really means.

Tagging @today-in-fic. This fic has been my pet project for the last two weeks and was interrupted repeatedly by the porn I’ve been writing. If you squint it can be read as the same universe as my other post-finale fics, namely Morning Hour, but that’s not really relevant.

‘Miracle’ is a dirty word, dirtier than ‘fuck’ used to be and much less versatile. When you work miracles, you set a precedent. You promise you can save people the next time.

Reading his own files in a government database, long-dead typists call Jackson Van de Kamp a miracle or a monster, savior of the world or bringer of the apocalypse. It’s a tired Superman story, and he’s read every possible ending in his childhood comic books.

He’s not the government’s mail-order Jesus, here to die for their fucked-up sins.

He can prove it, too. He didn’t forgive his murderers; he popped off their heads. And he didn’t die to absolve anyone of blame; he died for the very thing God didn’t want anyone to get ahold of—Knowledge. The Truth with capital T. He died because he taunted some chain-smoking bastard on a bridge. He didn’t mean to get shot, and he didn’t mean to come back to life.

* * * * * * *

The first time Dana calls him a miracle, Will leaves. He’s used to the word—which makes it worse but easier to hide. Still, he packs up his duffel and promises he’ll be back. He pretends it has nothing to do with them, everything to do with the itch of the road. It’s not her fault miracles make him sick.

He leaves them the adirondack chair. It’s a derelict piece of shit he picked up from some guy’s garage sale, but it’s his piece of shit. He hammered it back together, painted it the color of the Wyoming sky, and planted it in their yard. He hopes they take it as a sign that he’s making them his home, so he doesn’t have to say it out loud.

He drives South and lets the humidity suck him in. He picks a bucket of figs outside Inman, South Carolina with an ancient African American woman who embroidered the entire solar system into her jean jacket. She is an elm tree of a woman, engraved with all the wrinkles of ninety-two years. Then, he buys a bag of boiled peanuts and three honey-sticks from the ramshackle fuel station next to a railroad overgrown with kudzu. The attendant calls it a miracle that a customer has come ‘round. Then he tells Will that honeysuckle is free.

Southerners, he has noticed, toss around ‘miracles’ like they’re cheaper than cigarettes. He likes it.

Will crawls back to Virginia after a couple weeks spent on the road, where he wasted monsoon nights smoking his head away in the Everglades and keeping an eye on the unborn kid. He’s not an idiot; he knows it’s a high-risk pregnancy. If something goes wrong, he’ll know before Mulder and Dana do. He even knew it was a girl before they did, but he’s good at keeping his mouth shut.

He’ll be around for his sister, and they all know it. He’s attached to the kid, even if he tries to hide it. The baby is something untainted by his death count, his back-from-death count, his bloody miracles.

* * * * * * *

The second time Dana calls him a miracle, he lets it slide. Slip of the tongue, mumbled in between bites of croissant. He’s laughing for the first time in God knows how long, laughing his way through autumn.

Dana sits cross-legged in the grass, sipping tea. She sits in the grass a lot, he notices. Maybe it’s a side effect of being an ex-city-dweller, the way grass relaxes her and she shushes him to hear the cicadas. Will was always a trail-and-cliff kind of boy, raised in the shadow of Wyoming Rockies, but he can appreciate the rickety solitude of this home.

He pads barefoot through the dying lawn and sits down next to her. He’s been home for a week now, longer than last time. Tomorrow, he will shove two hoodies into a backpack and drive to the Appalachians. He will leave behind a companion to his adirondack and a bucket of pine-green paint. This time when he says ‘itch of the road,’ he means it. But for now, he holds up a paper bag from the bakery. “I brought croissants.”

Dana’s eyebrows shoot up; her face splits into a grin. “Thank you Will,” she says as he passes her the bag. The scent of melted chocolate wafts from its wrapping. She bites into the croissant with a contented sigh as he reaches into the bag for his own, butter and chocolate sticking to his fingers.

“You’re a miracle,” she says through a mouthful of buttery goodness.

Time stops.

Will doesn’t register it until he has swallowed. When he looks at her, she’s bright red, her eyes wide and all of a sudden younger than her face. He smiles as reassuringly as he can and lies back on the lawn. She didn’t mean it like that, and even if she did. It’s not her fault.

* * * * * * *

The third time doesn’t really count. Spring goes out with drums of thunder, and June bleeds into their lives. One morning, Dana cups a naked, watermelon-pink creature in the palm of her hand and stalks urgently across the patio.

“It’s a baby robin,” she informs him. It lies panting on a paper towel. Before he can protest, she slides it into his hands.

He must have startled at the sight of it, the intersection of hideous and adorable, because Dana apologizes for the lack of warning. Turns out it dropped from its nest, and she’s too short to reach the branch. He is pleasantly surprised by this side of her, the tender side that rescues birds and folds bandannas around her neck on sunny days.

Dana leads him to the birds’ nest, sitting seven feet up a tree and already brimming with hatchlings. An alarmed screech from a nearby tree alerts him to the mother robin. He cradles the baby bird in his hand, admiring it for a moment. But just before he lifts it to the nest, he hears—

thud-thud-thud-thud-thud, the newborn’s rapid heart rate strumming his eardrums. This again.

“Are you okay?” Dana watches him, her brows furrowed.

“Uh-huh,” he assures her. “Just got the bird’s heartbeat stuck in my head for a second.” He smacks his ear as if he’s caught water in it, and the sound fades.

“You can do that?” Amazement sparkles in her eyes. Also, he discerns, maternal pride.

“Yup.” He tries for nonchalant, ends up sheepish, scratching the back of his head and avoiding her eyes. Should he tell her? He studies her—tiny and wound up like a sharp violin, bearing an impressive collection of pantsuits and an even more impressive collection of scars. All taut muscle except where a small-for-now baby bump blossoms beneath her t-shirt.

“You know, I can hear the kid’s heartbeat too,” he says, gesturing to her stomach. He tries to ignore her quick intake of breath.

She stands up straighter, gaging how much he wants to tell her. “What does it sound like?”

“Like a metronome.” His short-term memory lobs Miami at him. He’s unsure why he tells her any of this, but he does. “When I was in Florida,” he muses, “I bought this shitty electric keyboard. The kind they have elementary school music classrooms, that takes like ten double A batteries and plays a bunch of out of tune instruments. I wanted a guitar but I didn’t know how to play one; plus, I thought it would be cute for the baby. Make a good first impression, y’know?”

He doesn’t give Dana a chance to respond. “Anyway, I was camping out in the everglades. Just… stretching out and sleeping in the trunk of the car. At night if it wasn’t raining, I would open the sun roof and look at the sky. And I tried to check up on you guys, in here.” He taps his forehead. “Came up with the heartbeat instead. Sometimes I tried to play the keyboard in time to it. I could play some tunes from Pirates of the Caribbean but not much else.”

A smile graces her lips. “You said you used to love those movies.”

“I did. That’s what the Everglades reminded me of,” he adds. Pirates, tropical marshes, the monsters that lurk in the deep. He remembers sitting on the roof, going through three different flavors of vape, scared to dangle his feet over the car because a gator had taken up residence beside it. He remembers watching the gator breathe, watching its slick, scaly back dry out in the heat, and its jaw hang wide open. He remembers finally climbing down the car and reaching out to touch it. His rational side was terrified it would snap, but he realized, somehow, that it wouldn’t. Not at him, at any rate. Maybe his alien blood is reptilian. Who knows. He’ll never forget what an alligator’s back feels like.

“What happened to the keyboard?”

“It broke. I tossed it before I came home.” He reaches into the bird’s nest and drops the little creature in. It mewls hungrily.

“Miracle of life from non-life,” says Dana. She gingerly touches his shoulder. He listens for the rhythmic creature unfolding in her womb. Life from non-life, skin from stones, cells from silence.

* * * * * * *

The fourth time Dana calls him a miracle, it is not Dana at all. Dana is inside, flipping three grilled cheese sandwiches while Mulder hoes a disheveled garden. A heat wave barreled violently into Virginia last week, and Dana won’t show her face outside at midday, especially since the baby made its presence clear.

Will pulls into the driveway with three bags of fertilizer and a greenhouse worth of seeds. He tucks his ice coffee in his elbow and unloads the dirt from his trunk. Already decorated in roots and silver dandelions, Mulder empties them messily into the turned dirt.

“Thanks, kiddo,” he says with a grin. A month ago, he might have rejected the nickname, but he’s trying to befriend Mulder. Bridge the gaps he already has with Dana by virtue of telepathy. It’s hard to hide from a woman who can read your mind.

“No problem.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and wanders over to the garden. “Anything I can do?”

“Can you blot out the sun?” Mulder chuckles, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Or, you know, work some human Miracle-Grow on these flowers?”

“Unfortunately,” Will says distractedly, “My talents don’t really extend to peaceable flower-growing. I don’t think that’s what the government had in mind when they cooked up my DNA.” He means it casually. He really does. The same way Mulder means ‘human Miracle-Grow,’ and he was going to let that one go.

Mulder stares at him with those regretful labrador eyes. Shit. One wrong step and he’s swimming in parental guilt. Dana knows why he took the first time. He wonders if she ever told Mulder, or if she let him believe it was wanderlust. Genetic, of course.

“It’s okay,” he assures Mulder. Will doesn’t want his parents’ teary remorse, but he accepts it. They’ve seen Hell, and that’s coming from the kid who’s blown up human heads. So he curbs his annoyance every time they hug him like he’s fine china and doubt him when he says he’ll stay.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder says, “that was insensitive.”

“Naw, it’s fine.” Casually, callously, that’s the only way Will knows how to talk about what he’s been through.

Silence thick with pollen. Mulder shakes sunflower seeds over a haphazard row.

“You were a miracle, you know. Scully wanted you more than anything.”

He knows this. He reads it like newsprint off her brain. And yet—

“I was a weapon,” Will says bluntly. Another comic book cliché to tack onto the list. Not like he’s counting or anything.

“No.” Mulder shakes his head, shoves the hoe into a fresh groove. “They tried to weaponize you, but you wouldn’t have it. Will, you’ve got a choice that Scully and I don’t have—you don’t have to be their experiment. It’s too late in the game for us; we’re old, and we served twenty-five years in the X-files, prodding and being prodded. But those men are dead now, and while the scars may never heal, you don’t have to let them open another wound. You are human, and you’re allowed to have a life. You’re only their weapon if you believe it.”

He says it so forcefully Will almost believes him. Maybe one day he will. Not yet. “I did kill people,” he reminds his father solemnly. He has inherited Mulder’s ability to suck out his own soul.

“It’ll haunt you, and it’s never okay, but sometimes that’s what it comes to.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I killed people. So did Scully.” He was dead when Mulder shot the smoking bastard. He wishes he had seen it for more reasons than one. “Just…” Mulder trails off. “Give yourself a chance. Give Scully a chance. You won’t regret it.”

He wonders if he’ll ever love someone as much as Mulder loves Dana. He wonders if he wants to love someone that much, to bear the everyday risk of losing them. He empties two bags of poppy seeds into the garden.

Mulder has returned to the open car. He lifts a shopping bag out of the trunk and peeks inside. “What’s this?”

“I found it with the sunflower seeds. They were on clearance.” Will shrugs, acts like he didn’t buy it thoughtfully.

The wooden windchimes clink when Mulder examines them—sleeves of birch wood dangling like spiders on a thread. At the top, a cardinal opens its beak to the sky. “It’s beautiful. Your moth—Scully will love this.”

Wisely, neither of them discuss the Freudian slip.

* * * * * * *

The fifth time Dana says it, they are sitting in the Adirondack chairs, watching the overdue baby struggle against her confines. He comes to rest somewhere between amazed and utterly creeped out at the sight of it, and it probably shows on his face. Things have begun to show on his face recently. Since he pulled his hair into a ponytail and let himself relax, he no longer resembles the drunken guitarist of an out-of-line undergrad rock band. That was how Mulder described the scraggly shape of him when he was on the run. Mulder recognized it in himself, maybe—trying to scare off his enemies, winds up scaring off everybody else.

Scully cocks an eyebrow at him. “You look slightly perturbed.”

“It’s a little freaky looking,” Will concedes, eyeing the bow and flex of her abdomen. Kid’ll be here any day now—tomorrow, he predicts, maybe the day after. His sixth sense will go fucking haywire the second Dana goes into labor.

“It feels even stranger than it looks,” she replies.

He settles into the chair, leaning his head on his hands and stretching his gangly legs in front of him. He listens. Songbirds, wind chimes, the desperate buzz of insects having sex before they die… his sister’s heartbeat thumping frantically against the side of his head. He half smiles.

“It’s miraculous, you know,” she murmurs. “Even if it looks and feels discomfiting, it’s still a miracle.” A weighty pause. “You’re a miracle too.”

This time, the weight of the word ‘miracle’ doesn’t make him ill. His whole life, a catalogue of unexplained events and Sunday mornings in the Presbyterian church, people called him a miracle. On the playground, he healed scraped knees, and kids called him a wizard.

Dana and Mulder, though—they don’t see him as a miracle of Biblical proportion, or a miracle of science, immaculately crafted for a destiny. To them, he’s a miracle of love. His birth is a transcription of amor omnia vincit, and his return is a testament to it. He is a miracle because he was born and because he is a person Dana Scully created with Fox Mulder in a tatty DC apartment. Not because he’s a gritty reboot of a Christ allegory.

He is okay with being this kind of miracle.

He hears a quiet, “oh…” and opens his eyes. Dana scrunches her eyebrows together and squeezes the arm of her chair. “Braxton-Hicks,” she explains. He takes her at her word the way Mulder doesn’t. (Mulder, who suspects the baby is coming every time she so much as grunts; Mulder, who couldn’t be there the three times his son came to life.)

“If she sticks around much longer,” mutters Dana as she shifts in the chair, “she’ll say her first words in the womb.”

“Tomorrow,” he promises. Immediately he regrets telling her, but she looked so uncomfortable just there. She reminded him of his neighbors in Wyoming, a dusty-haired lesbian couple who wore nothing but khakis and hiking boots. Their son must be three or four by now, but he remembers how Lilian taught him to repair his mountain bike in her last month of pregnancy, woeing incessantly about how she couldn’t ride her own. ‘If the baby doesn’t come tomorrow I’m going to lose my goddamn mind,’ she’d told him every day for a week.

Now, Dana gazes at him with ocean-wide eyes. “You know?”

He shrugs self-consciously. “Yeah.”

“How?”

“I dunno. Same way I do all the other shit, I guess.” He wiggles his fingers. “Galaxy magic.”

This time she laughs, and a little bubble of pride wells in him. He can make her laugh through her discomfort, a clear, beautiful sound. He loves her, his mother. She doesn’t feel quite like his mother, but he catches love for her like he caught it for his unborn sister. Or maybe she is something like his mother—not his mom, the titles ‘Mom and Dad’ will forever be reserved for the parents he grieves, and he’s still shaking the nagging guilt that he is somehow replacing them by loving Dana and Mulder.

Maybe this is the kind of love you feel for your parents when you’re thirty, or maybe it’s the kind of love you feel for a step parent who isn’t your mom but who does her best, asks how your day is going and offers what advice she can. Whatever it is, it is keen and familiar, and he clings to it like a lifeline on days the earth swallows him.

Mulder finds them laughing their asses off at the most beautiful sunset in months. Dana glances up at him with an ear-to-ear grin, one hand on her belly and one hand on Will’s shoulder. Weeping tears of laughter, they forget what cracked them up in the first place.

* * * * * * *

In his eighteen years on this bitch of an Earth, Will has worked two legitimate miracles:

Jerry Abernathy from his eighth grade Algebra class had an allergic reaction to a peanut butter cookie. Somehow, he survived without a single shot of the epi pen he’d left at home that morning.

Alice Mulder-Scully enters the world screaming. The volume of blood on nurses’ uniforms belies the healthy baby. Relieved, haggard doctors struggle to explain the mother’s strong heartbeat. Nothing to see here, tells the look on Will’s face as strangers pass him in the waiting room. He wipes a trickle of blood from his nose and downs an energy drink to stay awake.

* * * * * * *

The sixth time Dana calls him a miracle, he is sitting on the porch steps of the Virginia home. Alice’s baby feet kick his knees, and he grins as she struggles from his lap to crawl across the grass. Fireflies light up the gravel drive, flashing and dying, glowing with no particular pattern. They move like stars in space-time, as if he’s witnessing the lifespan of a galaxy in time lapse. Alice giggles as one blinks in front of her nose.

“Bug!” she screams happily.

“Yeah, kiddo, a lot of bugs.” A fox skittered across the property that morning, and Alice pointed at it and called it ‘Dada.’ Mulder was fake-insulted for hours.

Grinning down at her, he begins to rearrange the fireflies. To his behest, insects in mating season are shockingly tenacious, and it takes all his mental effort to control them. It’s worth it as they lazily swirl toward Alice, who bats at them and giggles uncontrollably.

“Bug! Bug!” she pops the word over and over again, snickering as one lands in her tufts of russet hair.

“I assume this is your doing?” Dana appears behind him, and he grins at her over his shoulder. The screen door smacks shut.

“She loves them.”

“More than her actual toys,” Dana snorts. She cocks her eyebrow at him, then lifts her phone and takes a picture. “I never liked fireflies.”

“Not even as a kid?”

“Well,” she chuckles, “maybe. But one of my first cases on the X files ruined them for me.”

“Seems like those files fucked you both over,” he replies.

“Someone had to do our job.” She sits down next to him and wraps her sweater tighter round her frame. “It took a lot from Mulder and I, but it brought us together. And when the ash settled, we gained two miracles.”

Watching Alice clumsily reach for glow worms, Dana wraps her arm around his shoulders. He lets her. Alice’s fireflies scatter and spiral into the stars.

#the x-files #txf fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #msr fanfic #post ms iv #jackson van de kamp #william-centric #stupid midlife miracle baby #todayinfic

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