#Red Hood: Tell that stupid Mask he just made my list of things to do today.

[benbamboozled]

Dick Grayson: What’s the secret, Jason?

Jason Todd (Age 13): The secret?

Dick Grayson: Yeah, you seem to have it pretty figured out.

Jason Todd (Age 13): The secret. . .I don’t know. You’ve just gotta find something you love to do and then. . .do it for the rest of your life.

Jason Todd (Age 13): For me, it’s being Robin.

[siconetribal]

Put It On My Tab: Chapter 4

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona

Warning: Fluff and humor, mention of crime, cursing

Summary:

Everyone deserves time off, and the vigilantes of Gotham are no exception to the rule. The boys decide to take a weekend to let loose. Who knew a few drinks would lead to a stranger in bed?

Author Note:

I'm back with part 4! Life got in the way a bit, so it was slow typing. Please let me know if you want me to add you to any tag list!

PLEASE READ WARNING ALWAYS.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! How did I not see the connection?! “Anyone could’ve made that mistake, right, Magnus?” The infamous Red Hood turned his head and came face to face with the snarling mug of one of the four gargoyles that adorned his usual perch for patrol. “I mean, she kept saying she was some sweaty old sleazebag toying with younger players. I knew she wasn’t, but still," his voice trailed off at the weak excuse. "Also, why would I think I’d ever meet her in person? And like that ? I made such an ass of myself  and I promised to kick my own ass for being an ass.” He audibly groaned, shaking his head. “How much did that shithole of a hotel charge her anyway? I didn’t ruin the room that badly, ” he scoffed. Clearly she’s exaggerating, right? He frowned to himself, thinking back to that fateful morning four months ago. 

“I know, I know, I should pay for the damages. It’s the right thing, blah, blah, blah, and all that crap, I get it! I just, how do I even find her? In all of this?” He motioned towards the city laid out before them with a sweep of his arm. Even more, the crime ridden city was alive with idiotic hoodlums and unsavory masterminds slinking through the dark of night. It was not as active as other days, but there was just enough of a steady flow where he was able to distract himself from the predicament at hand and avoid the potential pestering of his brothers. I don't need Grayson on my ass. His badgering will have the others questioning, and the little demon spawn investigating into this. I don't need him getting in touch with her first. Who knows what sort of shit he'll say. He might think she holds some secret of mine or that she's some secret herself.

"Well, for starters, you could try talking to a human instead of a hunk of chiseled rock."

Shit, I should've kept my mouth shut. He hung his head at the familiar voice. "Grayson, what are you doing here?"

"I was trying to get in touch with you, but you weren't answering your com, so I came to see if you needed help. Seeing as you were having a heart-to-heart with a gargoyle, seems like it was a good call on my part." Red Hood glared up at Nightwing who was smirking back at him.

"Magnus is a great listener , leave him out of it."

"You named the gargoyle?" Nightwing raised a brow and tilted his head to one side. "Should I be even more concerned?"

"If you're done being a pain, I'm having a serious conversation here. I'm fine, you can-," he began to dismiss the elder Robin but stopped as he took a seat. "Completely ignore me and take a seat, great." He sighed.

"You could talk to me. Unlike Margret over here, I can participate and give you answers."

"One, his name is Magnus. Two, I didn't ask you anything, you sat on your own. Three, I said he was a great listener not an orator."

"Aww, c'mon little red, give me a chance. You know, I'm pretty good at sleuthing." Nightwing grinned, lightly elbowing Red Hood. "So, tell big brother Nightwing what's got you grumpier than usual." He rested his chin on his hand as he leaned in closer. He could practically see him batting his eyelashes behind the domino mask. Red Hood shoved him back, letting out an annoyed scoff. Hearing him shout, Red Hood snapped his head back around to see him gone. What, no way! "Nightwing?" There was no response. "Grayson?" He hopped up on to his feet and peered over, but saw nothing hanging or on the ground. " Dick?! " He panicked, looking around the corner once more, when he heard something from behind. Letting out a heavy sigh, he turned to see the one and only Nightwing standing on the ledge with a smug smirk on his face.

“Made you look.”

“Shut up,” Red Hood shook his head. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope, not until you tell me what’s going on.”

Well, it can only get worse if I don’t say anything. Jason took in a deep breath and held it for a couple of seconds before forcefully pushing it out. There was no doubt that if he kept trying to ignore the elder Robin, he would soon be the center of attention for all the Bat Kids. The last thing he needed was a family of crime fighters and detectives following him around trying to figure out was going on. “Remember a few months back, we had that weekend off, and we all decided to go have fun?”

“Yeah, the one where you vanished with some random woman and came back the next day. You refuse to talk about it, I remember. What about it?”

“Yeah that, so, she paid for the room we shared and left ahead of me because she had to get to work. Regular shit,” he waved it off.  “I just found out that she’s been loaded with a heavy bill to pay because the coffee maker broke and supposedly damaged the room. I didn’t know about this until now because I realized IAmBatman is her, and she was telling me about some jackass who trashed the room, and she has no idea how to even get in touch with him. I didn’t realize it until after we both logged out for the night, and now I’m trying to figure out how do I meet her and how do I try to make shit right again.”

Nightwing silently sat beside his brother, trying to piece the puzzle together on why Jason wanted to help this woman and what does he have to do with the damaged room. It made no sense why he would need to pay for room damages if she took responsibility and broke the machine. Plus, it was only a night, not like they’re dating or anything. Why is he so hung up on this? “Well, why do you need to make things right again? Did she tell you about the broken coffee maker and is trying to squeeze money out of you? She might’ve found out you were a Wayne somehow.”

“No, she doesn’t have a clue who I am. She was just venting to me because I asked her to explain what the hold up was.”

“So, she’s trying to get you to pay without knowing you’re the guy she slept with?”

“I told you, we didn’t have sex like that. It was, we literally just slept next to each other on the bed. I was way too plastered because the shithead harassing her drugged her drink and I took it to keep her from getting dragged into shit.”

“I know, I know, I just wanted to hear it again! It’s not every day the dashing Red Hood doesn’t get the girl.” He laughed. “But getting back to the point, she said the room was damaged, but you said it was the coffee maker? Did the hotel reach out to you too?”

“No, they didn’t have any of my information and I didn’t call them.”

“Okay…then, who broke the coffee maker? Did she break it and ran, hoping she could pin it on you?”

“No,” he answered after a short pause.

“Did the housekeeping break it, and she thinks it’s you?”

“No.” he answered again after a slightly longer pause.

“Ok, then, who broke the coffee maker?” Red Hood sat in silence, contemplating his answer, and Nightwing waited, trying to figure out who should be the one held responsible to better guide his brother. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Red Hood mumbled under his breath again. “Wanna try that again?” Nightwing heard a louder mumble, but still could not decipher. “Bro, you’re gonna have to speak up, I can’t hear you with that helmet on your head.” He knocked on the red mask.

“ I said I did! I broke the fucking machine by accident, and I didn’t realize it did so much damage. There, ya happy now? ” He shouted at Nightwing who was now leaning away from him and staring at him. 

“What, how did you break a coffee maker? Did you chuck it at a wall or something?” He leaned forwards once more, even more confused with this revelation.

“I don’t know, I just wanted to make a cup, and it broke! Shit spilled everywhere, I used some towels and I thought it was good!” Red Hood threw his hands up in the air. “Now she’s footing a bill with damages to the room, and I’m the asshole that she never wants to see again. I want to find her, but I don’t have a fucking clue on how to do that. If I tell her online, she can just log off, and I won’t ever be able to fix this shit, and I’ll lose my quest buddy!”

“Shit, you are an asshole if the bill is that high, and she’s still pissed about it! You definitely can’t come clean online. She’d never speak to you again.” Nightwing leaned back on to his hands and looked up at the night sky. “She’s never shared any sort of information about where she lives? Some people are dumb enough to do that.”

“Nothing, her profile gives no hints and the only thing I know is that she’s in Gotham City.” He shook his head.

“Well, at least we know that much. Oh, I know! Her IP address! You can get her location through her IP address! Find out where she works. I’m guessing she has a few odd jobs racked up to make ends meet with that bill. She might not say the name of the place, but if it’s retail or something specialty, you can narrow it down to places nearby and expand from there. Make sure she is who she’s saying she is and have a chance meeting, or invite her to meet in person. She might agree to it, and you can finally confront her about what happened and fix it.”

IP address, he hit his head. Why didn’t I think of that! “You know what, thanks, Grayson. You actually helped me.”

“What do you mean, actually ? Of course, I’d be helpful! Unlike Maggie here, I have a brain.” He scoffed.

“Again, his name is Magnus and secondly,” Red Hood suddenly stood up. “We’ve got some thugs to catch.”

“Oh, together, how romantic.”

“ Shut up ,” Red Hood shook his head as the two of them took off into the night to catch the gang members. A weight was lifted off the young vigilante’s shoulders with this new plan of action in place. He would now be able to rest in peace knowing he was one step closer to finding her.

[mischiefandspirits]

Bernard Figures It Out

Was reading through all the comments on @frostbittenbucky's post and all I could think of was that it was Bernard talking to Tim. Then I got to thinking...

"I've connected the two dots."

"You didn't connect shit."

"I've connected them."

Bernard figures out Tim's a superhero... sort of.

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

Tim fidgetted nervously as he waited on the front porch of his boyfriend’s house. Bernard had sounded so serious when he’d called during Tim’s lunch to ask him to come over after work so they could talk about something.

Which Tim had done, after spending an entire board meeting just going over the past week trying to figure out what he’d done.

The only thing he could think of was that he’d ducked out halfway through their lunch date on Wednesday to give Duke some backup, but Bernard had seemed understanding when Tim explained there was an emergency at GRC Labs. It couldn’t have been a tipping point, either, since Tim had managed to only flake on three other dates over the past few months they’d been dating. Kate had been happy to cover for him as often as she could “out of queer solidarity” when she found out Tim was dating a boy for the first time and Tim had managed to trick Bruce into covering a few actual Wayne Enterprises emergencies for him when they came up.

There had to be a reason Bernard was breaking up with him, though. Had he missed something? He definitely wasn’t forgetting an important day. He was good with days and Tam was even better, so she would have reminded him on the off chance that he had forgotten.

What was he missing?

Bernard was smiling when he opened the door, but there was a nervous energy to it that had Tim’s stomach sinking. “Hey, Tim.”

“Hey.” Tim gave his own nervous smile then slipped inside.

They went into the living room and sat down on the couch.

Tim frowned when Bernard grabbed a manila folder off the coffee table. Crud, had he screwed up enough that Bernard had had to make a list? He knew he was new to dating a guy, but he hadn’t thought he’d done that bad. He’d really been trying, especially with how his and Stephanie’s relationship had fallen apart at the end. “What -”

“Just let me speak, Tim,” Bernard said, waiting for Tim’s nod. “Okay, so you know Clark Kent, right?”

Tim blinked as Bernard opened the folder to show a picture of Clark. It looked like one of the employee pictures from the Planet’s website, with his dorky “I’m just a humble country boy” smile and the golden globe from their roof photoshopped in as the background. “Uh, yeah? I think so. He works for the Daily Planet, right? I think he’s worked at a few of Bruce’s events. Not a lot of outside reporters are willing to come to Gotham.”

“Exactly!” Bernard said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Tim.

“What?”

He pulled out the picture to show the next page was an article titled, “DAILY PLANET REPORTER… BATMAN!?”

A wave of relief washed over Tim and he placed his face in his hands. “Were you up all night on the hero conspiracy boards again?”

“No. I mean, I found this on a board and was up all night thinking about it, but I found it reasonably early.”

“One in the morning isn’t reasonable, Bernard.”

“Says the guy who’s always wide awake when I call to infodump.”

“Touché.” Tim leaned against Bernard and gave him a smile. “So tell me, why is some reporter from Metropolis from all places Batman.”

“First of all, living in Metropolis is the perfect cover. Everyone assumes Batman would live in Gotham, no one would consider he could be from anywhere else. Metropolis is outside the GMA, but close enough that the commute is still possible.”

“But it’s Metropolis.”

“And who would think Gotham’s Dark Knight lives in the sunshine capital? Plus, I hear he disappears a lot on the job. There’s gotta be a reason for it!”

Tim made a note to let Clark know he needs to cut back on the disappearing act some since people are catching on.

“And have you seen the guy? He is swol AF, babe.”

“Please don’t call me babe while you’re talking about how hot another guy is.” Especially Tim’s honorary uncle.

“You know I prefer twinks.”

“BERNARD!”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, ignoring Tim’s shout. “The guy is definitely hiding something! Besides, Kent is an investigative reporter. He’s gotta know a lot about cases and the underground and detective work.”

Not as much as he likes people to think, but more than he likes people to know Superman does, Tim mused. “But what about the other vigilantes?”

“Well, Kent has a cousin…” Bernard flipped through a folder and pulled out a picture of Kara. It looked like a screenshot of her interviewing Lena for CatCo. “She’s obviously the latest Batgirl. Look at her hair. And the first Batgirl and the current Batwoman were obviously Lois Lane, the red hair is just a wig. Did you see how she kicked butt at that last event she went to? She’s not as subtle as Kent. That means their son is the latest Robin. He’s exactly the right size.”

Oh, Damian better not hear about this, Tim cackled internally. His youngest brother hated being reminded that Jon was the same height as him despite their two years age difference. Damian definitely took after Talia when it came to body type, no matter what he said.

“And Kent also has a brother.” This time he pulled out a picture of Kon. The clone must have been caught by a reporter out shopping with Ma since he was carrying some paper bags and glaring at whoever was behind the camera. “At least, he’s supposedly Kent’s brother, but he was a teenager when he first showed up with the Kents. A lot of people think he’s actually Kent’s son, that Kent got a girl pregnant when they were teenagers and something happened to the mom so Kent had to take him in. Now the Kents are trying to hide it by saying the two are brothers.”

That was… scarily accurate actually. Especially given Luthor and Clark were close friends at the time that Kon would have theoretically been born.

“And that beef would explain why the younger Kent brother went all crime lord on Gotham for a while before reconnecting with the family.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, Kent Jr.’s got the perfect build for Red Hood.”

Tim bit back a comment on how Kon was shorter than Jason by a good foot. Timothy Drake-Wayne should not know that. Add Jason to the list of people who can’t hear this theory.

“And then there’s this girl,” Bernard picked up a picture of Lois, Jon, and Natasha Irons walking down the street together. “No one’s sure exactly who she is, but she’s been spotted with the Kents a few times. I think the cover story is that she’s Jon’s babysitter.”

“And the actual story?”

“She’s Black Bat, obviously. That’s why she wears a mask that fully covers her face. She doesn’t want to stand out as the only African American Bat.”

“Isn’t Signal also Black?”

“Yeah, but he works in the daytime so he’s already a standout.”

“And who is Signal in this? And what about Nightwing and Red Robin?”

“Well, Nightwing’s just a Blüd who came to Gotham. He doesn’t count.”

Ouch. Sorry, Dick.

“And Red Robin is obviously an older Robin, the one who was Robin when we were kids. Kent wanted to keep him on, and I don’t blame him. As for Signal, he’s got the same backstory as all the other Robins Kent picked up, he just went the Signal route because he didn’t fit the usual Robin mold.”

“Because the female Robin fit the mold,” Tim snorted. Robin Mold, as if he and his brothers were even the same ethnicity. Or even had the same hair color. Jason dyes his hair, Dick’s is brown-black, Tim’s is pure black, and Damian’s is more a dark brown and it’s only getting lighter as he gets older.

“She didn’t, that’s the point. Kent tried to give breaking the Robin mold a chance by letting his cousin have a go at it, but he realized it just didn’t work so she went back to being Spoiler and he got a new Robin.”

Not touching that with a ten-foot pole. “Right, and where does he get the usual Robins? Please tell me you’re not back on the secret government orphanages theory.”

“No, no, no. Kent travels sometimes for his job, right? And a lot of the time he’s going to places that have been hit by disasters or major crimes. So he’ll take in some of the displaced children to train as his robins.”

Tim pressed his face back into his hands.

“You see it, right?”

Honestly, Tim was just wondering how his boyfriend could be so close, and yet so far off. “How would Kent even afford taking care of a bunch of secret -- possibly illegally acquired -- children without anyone noticing?”

“Simple. Bruce Wayne is funding him.”

“Bernard, I love you, but what the heck?” Tim blushed and looked up as he realized what he’d said, but Bernard didn’t seem to notice as he steamrolled ahead.

“It’d also explain how he can afford all the gear and how he’d be able to travel to Gotham or anywhere else Batman goes without anyone noticing. He probably has a secret Batplane or something.”

“Why would Bruce do that?”

“Because Wayne cares about Gotham, everyone knows that, and this way he can make sure someone’s taking care of the city without anyone putting two and two together.”

“And two plus two is?”

Bernard gave him a hard look. “I’m not stupid, Tim. Bruce Wayne is obviously Superman. His face is right there.”

Oh, the others are going to love this! Too bad I can’t tell Damian or Jason. Jason especially would have loved this. “Right. Bruce is Superman.”

“He is. Superman is known for being nice and Bruce Wayne’s basically all that’s keeping the city running at this point. That’s nice as hell.”

Oh my god.

“And Wayne does charity for the victims of cataclysms, doesn't he? I bet he first saves people from them as Superman and then builds them new homes for free.”

Oh my god! Why am I not recording this!?

“And the Wayne’s were rich enough to hide the fact they adopted an alien baby.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “If you’re about to tell me this is why Bruce’s parents got killed, you might want to stop while you’re ahead.”

“It’d make sense. There’re all sorts of unanswered questions about their deaths,” Bernard muttered under his breath, flipping through the folder. He pulled out another picture of Kara. This time she was in full Supergirl attire with a bus held overhead. “So if Wayne is Superman, then that’d mean your ex-girlfriend could be Supergirl. They look a lot alike and it’d explain how she got involved with you all.”

“Bernard, she has a human dad. You know, Cluemaster. The supervillain.”

“Yeah, her dad. But we don’t know anything about her mom!”

“Let me guess…”

Bernard pulled out a picture of Karen. She and Helena were suited up and talking to a group of cops, two goons held over each of Karen’s shoulders. “Her mom could be Power Girl! Some makeup and a wig and she could look just like Crystal Brown! And Damian Wayne is obviously the new Superboy! That’s why his background is such a mystery, right? He had to stay a secret until he could control his alien superpowers. That’s why he’s always so mean. It’s a cover since everyone knows Superboy is super sweet!”

Sure, when he’s not helping Damian pull pranks or using his adorable powers to put the blame on Kon and I. “No, Bernard. Damian and Steph are just very human hellspawn. And Bruce and Crystal are human too. I can’t believe you called me over here just to tell me you think Superman is both Batman’s sugar daddy and my adoptive dad.”

“Well, that’s not exactly why I called you over,” Bernard admitted, the nervous energy coming back. He grabbed Tim’s hands. “Tim -”

Tim’s stomach sank. “You are breaking up with me!”

“What? No! I don’t want to break up!”

“Why are you acting all nervous and serious then!?” Tim asked, pulling his hands away to throw them up in the air.

Bernard shook the folder. “Because I’m trying to tell you I figured out you’re Superboy!”

Tim’s brain blue-screened and his hands slowly dropped. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I know you’re Superboy. The older one, obviously. By the way, you and Damian really need to figure out separate names.”

Forget Jason and Damian, Kon can never find out about this. He’d never let me live it down. “Bernard, you called me a twink five minutes ago. Su-” Shoot, I can not risk getting Kon’s attention! “The older one might not be as big as Superman, but he’s not a twink.”

“Well, yeah, that’s the shapeshifting at work.”

“The what?”

“Obviously you Kryptonians can shapeshift. Why else would you look so much like humans?”

… Why do Kryptonians look so much like humans? Was there some - Wait, no! Break into the Fortress of Solitude for research later! Reassure your boyfriend that you’re not an alien now! “Bernard -”

“And that explains why your step-mom was so hot.”

“Gross.”

“She and your dad were actors hired by Luthor so you could have a normal life! But now Bruce has custody so he adopted you.”

“No.”

“That’s why you and your dad were so weird with each other when I met him.”

“We were weird because he’d just gotten out of a coma not long before to find that his wife was dead so he decided to actually be a dad for once in his life, but overcompensated and became a helicopter parent to a kid who was mostly on his own for his entire life!” Tim blurted out. “I am not an alien, Bernard!”

“Well, not technically since you were cloned from Superman on Earth.”

“Oh my god! You were just talking about Steph being Supergirl! Why would I date my dad’s cousin?”

Bernard blinked. “Supergirl and Superman are cousins?”

Right, Timothy Drake-Wayne wasn’t supposed to know that. “I thought they’d said something like that before, yeah. Are people seriously saying I’m Superboy on the internet?”

“NO! No, I swear I would have led with that if I thought your identity was compromised. A few people have mentioned Wayne and Damian, but not you or Steph or Jason.”

“Wh-Jason!? You think Jason was an alien too!”

“No, not exactly, but a few times when I’ve visited I swear I’ve seen a guy in the manor who looks like Jason. It’s just been out of the corner of my eye and he’s gone whenever I look so I’ve always thought it was just Dick or Bruce or some picture of Jason that my mind was playing tricks with, but it makes sense now that I know Wayne is Superman. He must have been able to heal Jason with alien tech, but couldn’t say anything because that would give away that he’s Superman.”

Damn it Jason! And damn it Bernard! I’m dating the smartest moron in the world! “Bruce did not bring Jason back with alien technology and none of us are aliens!”

“It’s okay, Tim. I won’t tell anyone.”

Tim grabbed Bernard by the jacket and pulled him into a kiss. When he started to feel lightheaded, he pulled back, “Could someone whose skin is as solid as stone kiss like that?”

Bernard blinked dazedly at him for a moment. “How do you know what Superboy’s skin feels like?”

Tim screamed internally. “He’s saved me from a kidnapping before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I can get you the police report if you want.”

“Huh… And the others?”

“Not Supers. I can stab Damian the next time we’re at the manor if that’ll prove none of us are aliens.” He’d rather stab Jason, but that would probably only confirm to Bernard that Bruce used alien technology to bring him back.

“You probably shouldn’t stab your brother if he isn’t an alien.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I won’t stab him anywhere deadly.”

“That’s not the point,” Bernard said slowly.

“He’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“So do you believe I’m not an alien now?” Tim huffed, letting go of Bernard’s jacket.

The blond’s eyes dipped down to Tim’s lips. “If I say no, will you kiss me like that again?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Tim said, but he kissed him anyway.

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

“Okay, but I still say Clark Kent is definitely Batman.”

“Sure, Bernard.”

[marauderundercover]

Crashed Dates (Day 2: Scarecrow)

Marinette grins at her boyfriend, swinging their intertwined hands back and forth as they walk around the pumpkin farm. It was so nice, finally being able to go on cute dates like this. They’d first started dating while he was in Paris on business, around a year ago. Sure, he’d made trips to Paris and she’d made a few to Metropolis, but it was different now that she had moved to Gotham. Now they were able to go on random, unplanned dates, instead of dates that had been planned for weeks. He was definitely worried when she first told him she was moving to Gotham, but she had reassured him that it would be fine. (Not that she had a choice in the matter, Tikki had informed her on her last trip to Metropolis that Gotham was sick, that it was calling out for help and that as the Guardian, it was her job to help it). Gotham was….interesting, but she’d settled in just fine in the two weeks she’d been there.

And so, when he had called her out of the blue to tell her he found a place he thought she’d love, she made sure she had enough layers and jumped at the chance for a day with him. So far, the day had been absolutely perfect. They’d drank hot apple cider, ate warm donuts, taken a trip around the farm on the hayride- everything was great. But for some reason, her amazingly stubborn boyfriend didn’t want to go into the corn maze. 

“Please! You’ll be my favorite person in the whole world.” She begs again, her grin quickly switching into a pout. She keeps pouting, leaning against his arm, until he sighs.

“Fine, we can do the maze.” He says and she cheers, standing on her toes and tugging him down slightly to give him a quick kiss. 

“You are the best!” She says, over enunciating every word. He just grins, giving her another soft kiss. 

“If we get lost, I’m calling the Demon Spawn to come get us out. Pretty sure he has a tracker on my phone.” Jason says, letting her tug him along towards the maze. She just rolls her eyes, grinning. 

“You know you’re secretly touched that he cares enough to track you.” She teases as they near the entrance of the maze.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbles, glaring at the scarecrow situated at the entrance of the maze. Marinette raises an eyebrow. 

“You have a problem with men made of straw?” She asks, legitimately confused by his reaction. 

“Geeze M, I knew you were new to Gotham but I forget how new.” He says, pulling her closer. She melts into him, still confused by his reaction, but happy to be close. As they walk through the maze, frustratingly running into deadends, Jason explains Scarecrow. Marinette decides that he’s number two on the list of villains she never wants to meet. Joker is number one. (Joker is also number one on the list of villains she wants to meet, but that’s because she’s always wondered what it would look like to cataclysm a psychotic clown). She’s just about to suggest they call Damian and utilize the tracker that was, undoubtedly on Jason’s phone, when the screaming begins. 

“There isn’t a haunted house here, is there.” Marinette says, her face pale. She wasn’t ready to be a hero again. She’d only defeated Hawkmoth a year ago. Just before meeting Jason. She didn’t want that part of her life again, not now. 

“No, no there’s not.” Jason says, eyes glancing around wildly. Marinette’s heart breaks at the panic on his face. She knew that, despite his tough guy appearance, he struggled. A lot. He had nightmares, constantly, mostly of the time Joker had kidnapped him (hence the whole, cataclysm Joker thing). Pushing down her own fear and doubt, she tightens her grip on his hand and squares her shoulders. 

“Come on.” She instructs, tugging him behind her as she darts through the maze, determined to get out. She stumbles over a rock and lets go of Jason’s hand in time for her to fall into a larger clearing. She curses as she falls, her palms stinging. 

“What have we here?” A voice says. Marinette sits up, staring up at a man in a scarecrow costume and suddenly, Jason’s fear, or rather, dislike, of scarecrows makes more sense. So much more sense. She glances around and lets out a sigh of relief. She’d let go of Jason quick enough. He wasn’t caught up in this. Hopefully, he could call his father. She wasn’t sure if the rumors about Bruce Wayne and Batman dating were true, but Batman was always quick to interfere if it was a Wayne or Wayne adjacent involved. 

“A girl who’s a little pissed that you crashed her date.” She retorts, standing up and brushing her stinging palms off on her jeans. She’d have to get the blood out later, which would be a pain. Better than having the blood on her palms mix with the dirt that also now covered her hands. 

“You’re either very brave or very stupid, little girl. Let’s see how you deal with my newest strain of fear toxin.” He says, and she lunges towards the man, not willing to go down without a fight. Almost immediately, a sharp pinch on her neck has her stumbling back away from the man as she tries to take in her new surroundings. 

She was back in Paris, but it wasn’t the Paris she had left. The city that was healing. Instead this Paris was underwater. Buildings were toppled over, and the moon was in pieces in the sky. She was back there. A place she hadn’t seen in person since she was fourteen, a place that had haunted her nightmares for ten years. She inhales sharply when she sees him. Chat Blanc. But instead of fear, she’s just angry. This isn’t real. It can’t be. Adrien Agreste was Chat Noir. And Adrien was….turning, she realizes that she can almost see him. Out of the corner of her eye, she can almost see Scarecrow, watching her. Waiting for her to react. Anger coursing through her, she charges the man, tackling him all the way to the ground. She pulls back her fist and punches him, repeatedly. 

“How dare you! How dare you use his face like that! You son of a bitch!” She screams as she hits, the roaring in her ears blocking out all other sounds. She keeps her focus on feeling the man she’s hitting, because the second she lets her focus wander, she gets sucked into her surroundings again. The way the sky just looks wrong. The odd haze over everything. And now, the corpses floating in the water closest to her. Adrien. Maman. Papa. She’s not scared, she’s pissed. Sure, those were her biggest fears and that’s definitely why she was seeing them all like that, but she’d already seen it. She’s lived it. They were gone, not coming back. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to fall down and break about it. Not when some asshole with fear toxin was running around randomly injecting people. Suddenly, something is wrapped around her and she’s pulled up. She kicks frantically, trying to get out of the steel grip she’s trapped in. She had to- what did she have to do? Another sharp pinch in her neck makes her eyes droop sleepily. She struggles again, barely able to hear the voice calling her name as she succumbs to the darkness.

---

Jason Todd feels like a major prick. He watched his girlfriend trip and instead of helping her up, he uses it as a distraction to try and call B. How the fuck was he supposed to know she tripped right into the Scarecrow? He’s cursing himself mentally as he rushes towards the ambulance. Replacement had texted him. 

Marinette was injected. At ambulances near front of farm

And Jason felt like shit. She’d never forgive him, not that he deserved it. He’d left her with one of Gotham’s biggest villains. His heart sinks when he sees the blood on her, and the oxygen mask attached to her face. Fuck. He’s almost to her, when one of the asshole cops stops him. 

“Excuse me, sir, you can’t go over there.” He says and Jason scowls. 

“Like hell I can’t. She’s my girlfriend, let me through.” He says, and the man shakes his head. 

“Family only.” He states. Jason’s about to argue, when a hand lands on his shoulder. 

“I still need to get a statement from Mr. Todd, if you’ll excuse us.” Replacement says, leading him away from the cop. 

“I left her.” He says, the second they’re far enough away. Tim frowns.

“What do you-”

“I mean, I left her. She tripped and instead of checking on her, I was a complete and total asshole and left her so I could call B to get his ass over here and solve the goddamn problem.” Jason says, feeling like even more of an asshole now that he’s said it out loud. 

“Did you see Scarecrow?” Replacement asks. Jason scoffs. 

“Of course not! You really think I would’ve left if I had?” He asks with a glare. 

“No, I don’t. So stop blaming yourself. I literally peeled her off of Scarecrow, she was beating the crap out of him. She’s gonna be tired and scared and confused when she wakes up. Just be there-”

“Jason!” Her terrified voice echoes out and Jason turns, sprinting for the cot he’d seen her on a minute ago. She had ripped the oxygen mask off her face and was looking around while arguing with the paramedic. 

“Ma’am please-” “Marinette!” Jason calls, and her face relaxes as she leaps off the cot and launches herself into his arms. He holds her as she shakes, sobs wracking her body. 

“I saw them.” She mumbles once she calms down a little. He frowns. 

“Saw who?” He asks. 

“My parents. Adrien. Their bodies.” She says, and suddenly, Jason has another name to add to his kill list. Being a complete asshole to all of Gotham, sure. Making his girlfriend see the bodies of those she’d lost? Nope. Now the bastard better hope he didn’t meet Red Hood in an alley. 

“God, Mari, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry I left.” He apologizes, his heart aching when she pushes him away. She frowns up at him and he winces, certain she’s about to break up with him. 

“Left?” She asks and he nods. 

“When you tripped, I swear, I didn’t know Scarecrow was there.” He says. 

“But you got Batman here.” She says and he jerks back. How the hell had she figured it out? When did she- “I know Bruce said he isn’t dating Batman, but honestly, I think he’s just in denial.” She adds. 

“I- what?” 

“Batman always comes when anyone in the Wayne family is in danger. Like, so quickly. And I know that Bruce says it’s just a bunch of rumors, like the whole ‘the butts match’ thing? But I also think that Batman is head over heels for Bruce, and your dad is just kinda clueless.” She rambles. Jason just laughs before pulling her into a deep kiss. She was okay. They were okay. He pulls back and grins at her, until he notices the blood again. 

“Shit, that’s a lot of blood.” He says, taking her hand in his to try and find the source. He glances at her face and raises an eyebrow at the blush that had taken over her face. 

“Oh, um, it’s not mine.” She mumbles. 

“Then who-” “Apparently I beat the hell out of Scarecrow. In my defense, that fear toxin sucked. And I was kinda pissed.” She says, frowning down at the blood on her hands. Jason takes one of his hands and gently tilts her chin up so that she’s looking at him again. He grins at her, giving her a short, soft kiss before pulling back. 

“I love you.” He says, and if the kiss she gave him in return meant anything, she felt the same way.

Next

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[jackrrabbit]

🤍 Haikyuu WIP excerpts

preview post for hq because recently i showed sara a list of my works in progress and she laughed at me and then made a dn joke like this is 2015 or something. we got:

🤍 communal property /// ushijima x f!reader x tendou 🤍 sunshower /// atsumu x f!reader x osamu 🤍 corporate ethics /// kuroo x f!reader

anyway these are all terrible first drafts and i'm not sorry. however i am very very into these pieces and if you're interested in seeing them finished, you should tell me fr fr

🤍 communal property /// Ushijima x f!Reader x Tendou

Summary: Tendou shares everything with Ushijima—his food, his dorm room, even the AVs he likes. Why not his girlfriend, too?

Tags/warnings: poly relationship in progress (only you and Tendou are dating at this point), mild suggestiveness ??, s*ze k*nk

Status: 10k words written (holy fuck lol) out of ~11k total? this bitch better get finished is2g

After the match, your voice is hoarse from screaming but you still manage to yell congratulations for your boyfriend when you meet him and Ushijima outside the locker room in the stadium. You’re pumped on the adrenaline of the game, so you don’t even protest like you usually would when Tendou picks you up in the middle of your hug and lifts you off the ground effortlessly. “How was I? Awesome, right? I told you we would beat them!”

“You did, you so did—“ Even though your throat hurts, you can’t help gushing about every rally, every soul-crushing block, every impossible spike. “—and then the guy on the left thought he was clear to shoot it but you just—“ You throw your arms in the air and mime hitting the ball down like a blocker. “Wha-bam!—and the look on his face! I thought he was going to punch you!”

Tendou laughs and lays a sloppy kiss on your cheek, just as thrilled as you are by the win. “You really liked it that much? I thought you weren’t into sports.”

“I loved it! You were so cool! I can’t believe I’m dating someone so cool!” You wrap your legs around his back and hug his face close to yours, reveling in the fact that this weirdo belongs to you wholly and entirely, that you get to have him to yourself (well, other than his roommate). “And I’m not into sports, I’m into you.”

Tendou smiles in a way that makes the sides of his eyes crinkle up and little red patches bloom over his cheeks, a look that says, I like you so much (Y/N), I like you I like you I like you, except he’s probably trying not to be mushy like that since Ushijima is standing off to the side.

You feel a little bad for ignoring him (no one likes being the third wheel, even if he never shows signs of caring) so when Tendou sets you down you turn to Ushijima. “And you! Holy shit, Tendou said you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good. The ball when you hit it was super loud—honestly, how are your hands okay? If I hit it that hard I’d probably break something.”

“My hands are fine…this is normal for me.”

But just because you’ve got them here in front of you and you’re still pumped from the exhilaration of the win, you can’t help grabbing Ushijima’s hand and flipping it palm-up to inspect. True to his word, there’s no redness, just the calluses he’s built up on his long fingers. “Wow.”

“You don’t need to worry about Wakatoshi,” Tendou tells you, grinning and then making a face. “He’s a monster, he can handle it.”

“No kidding. You’re both monsters.” You put the base of your palm up against Ushijima’s to gauge the size of his hand against yours, and without prompting Tendou grabs your other hand to press against his own. Tendou’s fingers are a bit longer, but Ushijima’s are…thicker, more solid. Your hands look like a little kid’s in comparison. “Can I be honest? Half the time I was thinking I actually feel bad for the other team. If I had to take on both of you at the same time, I’d probably cry.”

You’re (mostly) joking, but it’s still a complete shock when you see the side of Ushijima’s mouth curl up a tiny bit. You’ve known each other for months at this point, but you’ve never seen him smile until now. Half of you is wondering if this is some kind of optical illusion caused by the atmosphere and the dim light of the stadium cutting through the evening, but the other half of you enjoys it. You made Ushijima smile. You did that.

“Don’t sell yourself short, (Y/N).” Ushijima says, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah!” Tendou chimes in, resting his chin on top of your head and folding his arms around your neck from his place behind you. “I’m sure you could take both of us. Right, Wakatoshi?”

So that’s probably a sign.

🤍 sunshower /// Atsumu x f!Reader x Osamu

Summary: [Kitsune AU] You find an old Ō-Inari shrine in the woods that may not be as abandoned as it looks.

Tags/warnings: Shinto religion, this preview is biased toward tsumu oops, yearning/soft vibes

Status: 3.9k words written out of 5–6k? total

Atsumu was the one who found you.

That’s how he likes to talk about it, that he found you, like you’d still be wandering around lost in the woods if it weren’t for him. Osamu thinks you would have found your way back home eventually but Atsumu likes it better this way, this framing that makes it seem like they saved you.

It’s hard for him to tell time linearly the way humans do but you mention once that you’ve known them for a year and that seems to fit. It’s spring now, almost barely tipping into summer, and it was spring when Atsumu found you. He remembers because of the way it was raining: light and tender, a summer rain early in the season, each little drop tapping off a leaf and then rolling into the forest bed to be eaten up by the grass and the soil.

Atsumu likes the rain, likes the sweet earthy smell it makes and the way the plants look so lush and green and alive, like they’d bleed if he sunk his teeth into them. He was out in the woods because of the rain ('Samu was in the shrine, as usual, attempting to set buckets under the millions of holes in the roof so the rainwater wouldn’t pool and rot through the wood underneath). But Atsumu was half asleep in a tree when he heard you crashing through the undergrowth, tripping over ferns and snapping every twig in your path (thought ya might be a bear, he tells you later, that’s how loud ya were) but he wouldn’t really have woken up if he hadn’t heard you singing.

(The odd thing is, you weren’t actually singing. You remember that day as vividly as they do: the warm, humid air making your skin feel sticky under your yellow raincoat; the tiny raindrops filtering through the canopy and kissing your cheeks; the ink feathering out on the damp xerox of the old map you found in your great-aunt’s attic so you could barely make out the “X” that was supposed to mark the location of the lost Inari shrine… You were cursing how stupid you’d been to go on a wild goose chase into the mountains with no cell service and no marked trail to look for a shrine that no one had seen in decades. You definitely weren’t singing.)

But Atsumu remembers it differently. No matter how many times you explain that you were just talking to yourself, when he replays the sound of your voice back then (reaching and lilting and falling, the way the birds talk to each other in the early morning, except the music of it was poured into syllables and words), it sounds like you’re singing. He wasn’t sure at first, hadn’t heard a voice that wasn’t Osamu’s in so many years that he gets tired counting them, but then he saw you push into view from between two bushes and he thought, a human!

A girl, too—it was hard to say at first because you were wearing that weird, slick jacket of yours, so bright yellow it was like an oversized flower blooming out of the grass, but then you tilted your head up to feel the rain on your face and the hood fell down and he knew. Not just a human, a girl! Atsumu wanted to yell for Osamu, make him come and confirm that there was a person wandering around not a mile from the shrine. A real person! Singing and smiling and wiping the rain off her cheeks (does that mean you like the rain, just like he does? did you come out to feel it too?) But he also wanted to surprise Osamu so he hid his tails and his ears and came down from the tree and asked if you had lost your way in the forest, since you were so far from any path…

When you think back on this yourself you’re amazed that you just went with him: a strange boy (man?) wearing a fox mask and traditional Shinto priest robes, which were somehow pristine white and red despite him having appeared from nowhere in the middle of a dense forest, who told you he had no idea what direction the village was but he could take you to the Inari shrine you’d been searching for…well. Maybe you were too surprised to be wary, or maybe you were just exhausted and lost. But you like to think you had a sense of it even then, the irrational belief that the boy in the woods was not just a boy in the woods.

Atsumu thinks you knew. Humans always understand, even when they try not to… He remembers, he took your hand that day in the forest and you saw that the claws on his fingers were too long to be human, and you said nothing because on some level you already felt it. Your skin was cool then, smooth and damp from the rain; he wanted to stop, run his hands up your arms, touch the places on your face where your mouth had been turned up at the corners and press his fingers into your cheeks.

🤍 corporate ethics /// Kuroo x f!Reader

Summary: [Office AU] The new junior marketing associate just happens to be Kuroo’s favorite camgirl, and he’s having trouble keeping his hands to himself.

Tags/Warnings: boss/employee, businessman!Kuroo as a reformed player, camgirl reader, this excerpt has a lil bit of 18+ content 👀

Status: 1.2k words written out of 4k? words total

Kuroo doesn’t watch porn.

It’s not, like, a moral principle or something. He has nothing against pornography. As far as he knows, it’s perfectly normal for single men. He just doesn’t like it…unless it’s you.

When he was in school it was easy. Being a teenager meant being so flooded with hormones that a warm breeze could get him up, and the adrenaline rush of winning a game was better than any big-titted porn actress faking moans into a shit-quality boom mic. Sure, he watched porn back then (what teenage boy didn’t?), but it was more out of curiosity than necessity. It was all kind of a mystery at that point, the way it can only be when you’re a clueless virgin and you and all your friends are too busy practicing for the next game to get girls.

Somehow Bokuto was the first one in their friend group to lose his virginity, and the memory of the dumbass self-consciously describing the experience has been lodged in Kuroo’s brain for the 10+ years since. “It was…I don’t know. She smelled good. You know how girls always smell good?” Bokuto’s hands twitched and his face was pink. “It’s just really…soft.”

Soft was right, Kuroo would reflect when he got laid for the first time a few months later. Soft, warm, wet. Sex was awkward at first, but before he knew it it was more natural than breathing.

It didn’t change much after high school, either. He didn’t get into volleyball for the groupies, but they didn’t hurt. There were girls when he played for his college team, more girls when he joined a business frat, so many girls he couldn’t keep track…they blurred together after a while. It didn’t take effort. You don’t need game when you’re 6’2 and you’re in the gym 40 hours a week, and you definitely don’t need porn.

So he never got into it. Now that he’s promoting volleyball instead of playing, things are more complicated. Kuroo’s never been the type who expects things to fall in his lap, but there are so many rules when it comes to dating in the real world. Good morning texts, anniversaries, flowers, parents. It’s exhausting. One time—seriously, just one time—Kuroo misses his girlfriend’s birthday to go watch a Jackals game, and the next time he sees her she throws her drink on him in public and keys his car. After that, Kuroo decides that until he’s ready to settle down there will be no more girlfriends. Which means no more reliable sex. Which means resorting to porn.

Which means you.

You, batting your eyelashes at the camera and biting the side of your lip. You, purring and mewing like a kitten. You, lying back on your pretty pink bedsheets in your pretty pink lingerie, sliding your hands between your legs. It takes Kuroo a full month to decide to pay for access to your website (Kenma’s unsolicited recommendation) but it takes less than five minutes for him to upgrade access to premium. You look like a wet dream—no, you look like the centerfold of every dirty magazine Kuroo managed to get his hands on when he was younger. Pristine and alluring and so deliciously out of reach.

And you make it so simple. No delicate emotional games with rules Kuroo never bothered to learn. No pretending to care how your day was. You untie the little bows on the side of your panties and lick your fingers and Kuroo just has to take his dick out and watch you. Getting off hasn’t been this easy for him since college. You’re a camgirl, you exist on his computer screen, and that’s how he likes it.

Which makes it a lot more awkward when Kuroo finds out that the only woman he’s gotten off to in the past…year, maybe?…somehow just got hired in JVA’s sports promotion department as his junior associate.

Your prim work blouse is buttoned up to the collar and your makeup is different, but he knows it’s you. You have to tell him your name twice because he’s too stunned to respond the first time, and even then he can’t summon up more of a response than a curt nod because his mouth tastes like dirt.

You smile a little awkwardly at his cool reception, and the hand you’d extended out to shake swings back down to your side. “Um, the guy at HR said he sent up my info yesterday…I’ll be working directly underneath you?”

Directly underneath me. Kuroo is taking a sip of his coffee when you say this. He doesn’t spit it out, but it’s close.

[cryptiql]

smoke signals

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of anxiety and abuse, but otherwise okay. please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 6.5k

a/n: this is my first ever mha fic and the fact that i decided to do dabi first shows i have some massive balls but i'm giving it a try! if he seems ooc at all or i get some facts wrong, please lmk and i'll fix them. (heavily inspired by smoke signals by phoebe bridgers—would recommend listening to it or any of her other songs while reading)

dabi found the meaning of life in a simple strum of chords; a melody twisted by melancholy tunes that resonated deep within the gates of his mind. they haunt him—either by breaking his conscious from a much needed rest to bring him tossing and turning in the damp air of the loft, or making sure that he stayed wide awake during the late hours of the night and well into the creeping day. the lyrics are so surreal that he has to sit down and contemplate their meaning like an english teacher would to the color red, but they're painted saccharine and drip with honey flowing from the mouth that sings them and he hates it. he hates that he's wasted moments better spent wrecking havoc just to understand that stupid little ditty that clings to his heart like a leech. but this song did not come from his own craft—no.

dabi had known the putrid stench of sweat and vermillion blood when the flames licked at his skin, breaching the coarse flesh of his palms to rain hellfire upon all those who dared oppress him. he could weave lies with knots that would take years to unravel, and set whole cities ablaze with a mere finger. clawing oneself from a well built to drown them in their trauma does tend to leave scars on ones hands, and dabi's body was practically a canvas for mutilation, so he could consider himself an expert on the matter. he could attempt to make such a song by strapping in with his many hours of free time and diligent persona, but his hands were not made for music; neither delicate, sonorous tunes or dark, grating strains. they were made for war.

so if anyone had asks, "no" is his answer. "i don't play." and yes, it is while he's drumming a rhythmic beat that he claims this to be true, but the last thing he thinks about is donning a set of drums during his free time. he's far too distracted by the image of your taper fingers curled around the neck of your guitar to consider anything else.

the gentle but keen plucking of chords startles him from yet another ridiculously long-winded spiel by shigaraki, and dabi swallows a strangled groan behind his grinding teeth. it's in his head, now, and so far the only thing that has succeeded in reaping it from his memory—if only for a few minutes—is the blood stained battlefield that he's found himself fighting on far too many times this month alone.

what's he complaining about, though? it's not as though he minds getting down in the dirt. in fact, he's ecstatic to dig his claws into any gruesome ordeal so long as it benefits him in some way, so why is he so invested in this little to and fro game of twenty questions with the likes of you; someone as significant in the world as a paperclip without paper to hold? why come back, despite there being nothing in it for him besides a series of migraines?

not from you, a voice answers from inside. you're an absolute pleasure.

dabi nearly snarls at the confirmation that his own mind is turning against him, and as he does this, a plume of smoke erupts from his lips, billowing and curving to create intricate patters before dissipating into the atmosphere. a second time. a third. a fourth drag from the cigarette has completely obscured his face from anyone's view, and he relishes in the instant of privacy it gives him. however, it has also blocked him from seeing everyone else in the room, and while he normally would have considered that a blessing, it appears tomura has had enough of it.

you get headaches because you smoke too much, comes a second voice; yours, scolding in a way he'd only expect from a worried mother. dabi only has a split second to register it before shigaraki's head pokes through the fumes, red eyes alight with rage and lips pulled back into a snarl.

"would you quit doing that inside? it's fogging up my brain and i can't think straight." he grates.

"strange—i assumed there wasn't a brain in there to fog up in the first place." tomura's nostrils flare and dabi's pride spikes.

"besides, you came in here and looked directly at me as i was smoking—why didn't you ask me to stop then?"

"i was telling you with my eyes, idiot. you should know when it's time to either take it outside or put the damn thing out. there are ashtrays for a reason, and not everyone here wants to inhale that shit." he interrupts their intense staring contest only to wave his hand to clear the smog. now he can see the rest of the league clearly (oh joy, he thinks) and gives an indignant grunt when spotting toga at the bar table, covering her mouth and nose as a pitiful aim to block her lungs from the smoke. twice, who had unfortunately used up the last pack of his own cigarettes that morning, leans forward to take a whiff, exhaling soon after with satisfaction.

kurogiri stands at his usual spot behind the bar, seemingly unaffected as he idly scrubs away at grime infested glasses, while sako lounges at the opposite end of the room. his mask is on, leaving dabi to wonder if it's been like that all day, or if he just recently put it on to better fend off the fumes. he doesn't really care, whatever the case.

after a beat of silence, dabi wets his lips to respond, a lopsided smirk growing on his features.

"oh, i'm sorry your frail body hasn't adapted to a bit of vapor in the air. and with that flakey skin of yours, it's no wonder you're extra sensitive—"

shigaraki's hands come flying through the next waft to slam against the tabletop where dabi's feet lie, causing it to wobble and creak in protest. the ravenette doesn't even flinch as the harsh, raspy words are spat in his face.

"if you're not going to pay attention, then leave. actually, i'd prefer you do that either way."

and dabi would have happily disregarded his request if not for the faint ringing in his ears, rising higher and higher before receding back into his skull like the tide. a scowl morphs its way onto his once vacant expression as he puts pressure on his temple, rubbing softly where his eyebrows knit together. just for today, he'll indulge his so-called boss's whims. the piercing screech that emits from below when he pushes his chair back does nothing to help with the ever-growing headache, but it hardly matters now that he's headed out the exit. he's able to catch the last fragments of shigaraki's raving before the door closes, leaving him to stand amid the tumult of the city in all of its glory.

the alleyway is dark with looming shadows, but people are still milling about, so dabi considers himself lucky for already being dressed in his disguise. he flips his hood up, pulls the surgical mask over his nose and quickly slides on his sunglasses for good measure before slipping out into the traffic, sometimes going with the flow and then weaving past those moving too slow for his liking.

right now, his patience is a mere thread; hair thin and on the edge of snapping whenever someone bumps his shoulder. their negligence is infuriating, and he's tempted to roast them into a charred, mangled mess then and there—the consequences of blowing his cover be damned—but by some miracle, he manages to refrain from doing so. it takes about five minutes for his temper to shorten to the length of a matchstick, and he knows that one more shove will be what strikes it. dabi pauses for a moment to crane his neck, allowing the sea of people to flow around him like a stream to a rock as he searches for an alternative route. it appears as though he'll have to take his chances with the crowd until he hears the repetitive ringing of a bell and a man's voice calling for passengers to board. public transport was risky, what with him being a menace to society, but he can't possibly be the single most shady dressing person on the train, right?

he wouldn't bother answering his own question when daylight was burning, so dabi pushes himself from the swarm and leaps for the streetcar just as it begins pulling away from the stop. there's a shuddering jolt before the passengers settle in for their departure, and as his palms squeeze the metal railing in response, he notices the peeling red paint clinging to the car's exterior and finds himself staring at it for a ludicrous amount of time, not thinking about anything in particular.

the rickety trolley is semi-packed with civilians, none of whom regard his presence with anything more than a noncommittal glance. good—that makes his job ten times easier. to his chagrin, it runs over more than a few opposing train tracks or crudely paved bumps in the road, and this causes the whole cart to jostle before stilling completely, the process repeating itself over and over.

the knowledge that his trip to the outskirts of town is a short one is the only thing that calms his nerves.

when dabi finally arrives at his destination, the sun is gradually descending from its peak in the sky, and the clouds are more like wispy tufts than the luscious, cotton candy lumps they were just hours earlier. overhead, the baby blue hues turn to shades of opal; a forewarning of rain. the feelings of irritation and malice from earlier are still bound to him like chains that threaten to snap him in half when drawn too tight. the crippling weight causes his feet to drag along the gravel path at a sluggish pace, his own hot breaths fanning against his face from behind the mask. if anyone actually lived out here and they were to see him, their first impression would be that a living corpse had just waltzed onto their property. it was just his luck, then, that you were the only person out here, and by extent, the only one not deterred by his appearance.

even so, dabi's mind kicks into gear. was this a good idea? he doesn't even know why he came here—he just needed a place to blow off steam and his body had already made the choice on its own. this isn't any different from all the other times, though, and he can't ignore the fact when it sits in the pit of his stomach like an anchor. you're always the first person he goes to at times like these (dabi subconsciously rules out the man working at the local 7/11 who sells his liquor cheap, though he's still appreciative of the bottle to numb his thoughts). that tells him more than he wants to know.

your house is quaint, like those old country cottages he sometimes sees pictures of, and squats on a large, grassy mound of earth surrounded by heaps of rocks and sand from the neighboring beach. it merges with a towering lighthouse, and dabi notes that there must not be any sailors due to make port yet, otherwise the light would be on. the second thing he takes in are the flowerbeds sitting under your two front windows, and how they look withered and close to death.

"i wanted to add some color, but i can't keep plants alive for shit." you had said, huffing in amusement to yourself as you tended to the weeping alliums. "succulents are the only exception."

a small pot of them sits on the windowsill, but they seem to have gotten to big for it; the rubbery leaves spilling over the cracked rim. he hardly registers how much of a stalker he must look like until he stands on your welcome mat, peering through the dirty glass panes to find you nowhere in sight. the lights aren't on, so he can only see the outlines of furniture when bands of light stream in to reveal them.

sitting back on the balls of his feet, dabi curses under his breath. it's not like he was expecting anything. how was he supposed to know whether or not you were home when you had no way of telling him?

"jesus, patch!" a shout startles him from his brooding, but he doesn't let it show as he looks towards to ocean. you're hauling yourself over a large rock to wave him over, wearing a familiar grin. so that's why he couldn't see you. dabi makes careful work of leaping over jagged stones and threatening to bake any nosy seagulls as he makes his way to where you sit, with your favored instrument slung over your shoulder. the ghost of a smile graces his lips when he recalls how you would have scolded him for being mean to the birds, but that was before last week.

"pesky fucking bastards—they keep shitting on my music sheets!" another seagull waddles into your vicinity, only to squawk in distress as you shoo it away with your foot. "i wonder if this is natures way of telling me to quit while i'm behind. . ."

after breaching the treacherous terrain and nearly scraping himself in the process, dabi squats on the stone beside yours, looking up at you with hooded eyes. you meet his gaze with nothing short of merriment and a shake of your head.

"if someone had seen you, you would have been arrested on the spot for being a peeping tom." you chuckle, combing a hand through your hair with a smirk. "what? you lookin' you catch me in the nude or something?"

dabi scowls, choosing to ignore the question rather than give into the bait. as if i would be satisfied by looking at anyone but you in that state. he swats the air as if it would drive the notion from his mind like a bothersome fly.

"in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere? i'd never get caught."

"aw, don't be like that. if you really wanted a peek you could've just asked." the mocking tone in your voice spurs him to smack your thigh, which earns a hearty laugh in reply.

"ooh, don't treat me so roughly, or i might begin to like it!"

dabi has had more than enough experience with your flirtatious tendencies, and he feels he should have gotten used to it by now, but his heart still clenches every damn time. the worse part? he can't say that he minds. you don't give him a chance to respond, but dabi hasn't a clue what he would have said, so he lets you continue, watching intently as you rifle through your bag to fish out a guitar pick. shifting into a crisscross position, you perch the guitar on your lap and begin tuning the strings, idly talking about how uneventful the past days have been. dabi pretends not to have heard that it was because he wasn't there to visit, and instead gives his attention to the lighthouse in hopes that you won't see the faintest of reds dusting his ears.

five minutes pass before you actually start playing, and even then, it's only a few experimental notes here and there that help you build towards the perfected melody.

it's too sweet for his taste; dabi swears that's why his stomach turns so ferociously and prompts him to lean against the boulder to his right for some sort of stability. he won't even humor the idea that it's because of the way your lips twitch into a near half-smile before melding back into a concentrated frown the moment you strike a wrong cord. an embarrassed flush captures your cheeks as you study the music sheets, briefly pressing down on them when a sudden breeze flutters the pages. the pencil that was once tucked behind your ear now sticks out from one corner of your mouth, a flash of pink and orange melding together when you go to absentmindedly gnaw on the wood.

many more minutes fly by, and you've long since abandoned the new tune just to pick up an old one. dabi's back straightens at the first set of strings you pluck, and he recognizes them as the same ones that have been playing on repeat in his head since the day you met.

dabi's heart hammers in tune with every footfall that slaps against the pavement, tearing through the small pools of water that grow with every second. it hasn't stopped raining since the chase began, and there isn't an inch of him that hasn't been soaked through. still, something good must come from this little dilemma—the burning sensation that clings to his arms has almost settled down. the silhouettes of trees merge with inky blackness when he blinks, and he reaches with trembling hands to wipe the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes.

a yellow square of what assumes to be light shines in the distance, contrasting wildly adverse to the darkness that sweeps him up from under his feet and pushes him forward. the sound of police sirens has been reduced to a mere memory in the time that was running, but he isn't about to risk going back to the league's base in fear of a stakeout waiting to get the jump on them. besides, why stop there when the possibility of shelter awaits him?

the bottoms of dabi's shoes are slick with mud, and blades of grass have snuck their way under the cuffs of his jeans to scratch at his skin. the sensations paired with the numbing cold are beyond uncomfortable, but he won't have to worry about that once he gets inside—that being if the person inside doesn't put up a fight.

he'd expect them to be mad if they did anything except that, no matter how welcoming the house looked. dabi's instincts tell him that someone out this far from the city doesn't a have a lot of connections, and thus killing them wouldn't cause an uprising if it were needed, but the minute he grips the doorknob, a thought occurs. if they have a quirk, its power could level my own or even surpass it. . . he grits his teeth. but like hell i'm going to let them win.

the hesitation vanishes in an instant as dabi turns the knob and thrusts himself inside, wielding a blue flame in his dominant hand to further illuminate the room. the wind is so fierce that it pulls the door shut for him, and the villain finds himself staring down the unperturbed figure of another man, perhaps around his age, hunched over a stove and glaring at a steaming kettle. they lock gazes, and almost immediately, the kettle gives a high pitched whistle. you look away first, lifting the pot and turning the burner off whilst opening the cupboard overhead to pull out two mugs, both of which adorn ugly christmas-themed patterns that dabi wishes he could forget ever seeing.

his glare hardens when you move to the table in the far corner and begin pouring what he assumes to be tea, taking one cup into your own grasp and leaving the other at his own disposal. your one mistake is grabbing your phone from the counter, but when dabi's flame enlarges, you hold your arms up in defense. then, before he can even formulate a proper threat, you toss the phone to him. he catches it easily and observes the dark screen, masking his astonishment with a more sinister expression.

the only other move you make is to drape yourself across a cushion on the window seat with an acoustic guitar in hand. you look more relaxed by the second despite being cornered by a dangerous criminal, and dabi has to refrain from voicing his shock when you address him with an almost bored tone.

"if the tea isn't to your taste, there's more in the cabinet. shower is down the hall to your left, and there's a spare bedroom upstairs to the right. do whatever the hell you want, just don't burn the place down or touch my freddie mercury records."

dabi is stuck to the spot for one of three reasons, he determines. one, your attitude has surprised him into a stupor that not even hiw own will can break. two, his refusal to believe that you're handling this situation in a calm manner is really just his defense mechanism kicking in, and he won't move until proven that you won't do anything when his back is turned. and three, you're quirk is similar to that of madusa's and you've successfully turned him into a fleshy mannequin.

"if you're worried about me calling the cops, what you're holding is the only working phone here. the power is out due to the storm, so my landline is dead, and the nearest form of help is a crippled old widow five miles west. i'm not going to risk running when i'm up against someone with a quirk."

dabi considers everything said, but never once allows his fire to dim. he took the surrounding area into account while making his escape, and he can see the landline is in fact out of service, so the male's assurances checked out. hell, the light source that guided him here was nothing but an old-timey oil lamp. the fact that you're quirkless does him a great amount of good as well.

with cautious steps, dabi makes a beeline for the bathroom, but he stops halfway to stare at you again. you respond by quirking a brow and kicking your feet up, something akin to mischief in your guise.

"i can take the shower with you since you're so afraid i'll make a break for it." you drawl, and dabi snarls, a fowl cuss bubbling in his throat as heat crawls its way up his neck.

"why, with a blush like that you might not need any drying off~."

dabi decides that he's had enough and storms down the hall, already peeling off his dripping clothes and and silently promising that he'll burn the guy to a crisp if he so much as tries to catch a peek. he can hear you calling out in hilarity even as he slinks into the shower and attempts to drown you out with the static-filled haze that captures his senses.

"the name's, y/n, by the way!"

try as he might, dabi had never been able to keep from coming back. now the reason why has been revealed to him on a silver platter, and he won't even spare it a glance.

your soft singing snaps him from his reminiscing as he stretches his legs, stifling a groan when something pops as not to disturb you. while digging through his pockets for a cigarette, he stops momentarily for fear of forgetting how to breathe when he lays his sights on you. you're in your own little world; everything else—him included— seems to have disappeared as you play from the heart. you need no standing ovation, no adoring fans or fantastic lightshows. you've said it once, that fame and glory mean nothing to you, and that you have all you could ever want or need right here, nestled in the beachside view of what you call home.

"and i have you." a cool breeze ruffles your dirt stained overalls as you reach up to wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. the sun beats down on you, never shining half as bright as your smile, and the shore kisses the boulders with waxing and waning waves of aquamarine; frothy, foamy masses washing up with it to carry lone strands of seaweed. "otherwise i'd go mad without your company."

okay, that was lie. the truth is right there, practically spitting in his face how much of an idiot he is for trying to deny it, and dabi is glaring right back at it. he feels like an impatient kid on christmas eve, sneaking glimpses of gifts under the tree and feeling like he's committed a felony after getting caught. and you do catch him.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" there it is—that stupid nickname. it's always been laced with mirth when you call him as such, but now it's replaced by genuine curiosity. and is that a hit of concern he hears? you study him with pursed lips and stony features that gradually morphs into that of concern when the silence stretches on. dabi forces himself to sneer at you, and something stirs inside his chest when you don't flinch.

he hates it. he hates you.

dabi nods to the sky, a guarded noise building in the back of his throat as he tugs on his earlobe.

"s'gonna rain." your jaw visibly clenches, but you humor his evasive habits just like you always have, looking to the clouds, which have darkened considerably in the last hour or so. it's around this time that the weather patterns become more unpredictable, but you've noticed the distinct lack of rainfall in spite of the gathering storm brewing overhead. you could sit out here for a while longer without much activity in the sky, and it would take more than a little shower to drive you inside, especially when you finally had the chance to enjoy some quality time with dabi. you notice the way his shoulders droop and the tension from his facial muscles all but disappears when he sits amidst the smell of fresh salt water and unpolluted air—the weight of his past slowly but surely ebbing away. you'd like to hope you have some part in that. oh god, do you ever hope.

you plead to whatever omnipresent being above that he's not just here to hit a blunt without getting reprimanded for it, or that he's making these daily visits out of pity.

"nah. it's been like this for a little while—looks like a storm will hit, but then it passes before it even begins." you sling the guitar back over your shoulder and gather up your music sheets, eyeing dabi from your perch. you're challenging him now, and normally you would never dare force him to speak if he didn't want to, but something about his aura is off. you can sense it in his words; the very air he breathes; and it compels you to hold him close, if only he would let you.

"so, you gonna tell me why you're avoiding the ques—" a deep rumble interrupts you, and dabi lets out a sigh of relief that you're thankfully too distracted to hear. a single drop of water hits your nose, followed by another, and another, and—

"you were saying?"

"oh shut it." you don't get to finish speaking, for a crack of lightning strikes the far end of the beach, scattering sand in every direction. you just barely manage to scoop up your belongings before sliding from the rock, but your footing betrays you and send you stumbling to the ground. dabi is there to catch you, wasting no more time in hauling you to your feet and rushing you as carefully as possible through the jagged maze. he can't refrain from smiling when you splutter a string of profanities pass poorly hidden laughter, an unmistakable "FUCK ME!" spilling into the cold evening when you accidentally stub your toe on a particularly sharp stone. it's pouring within seconds, and no sooner do you reach the doorstep do you both realize how sopping wet you are.

the last thing you think of is your chattering teeth, however, when you see dabi's spiky tufts of hair dripping with residue and his electric blue eyes gazing into yours. what you do think is that for the first time in your painfully ordinary life; your twenty three years of mediocrity and progressive isolation from the world around you; you have found the single person who understands your struggles and has chosen—for some unfathomable reason—not to abandon you. you wish you could say your parents were the same, but you also have scars from a distant childhood that brought you to this place.

this old lighthouse is your home, yes, but dabi is your sanctuary. he might as well be a god by how often you worship him from afar, wondering if ever you'd be so lucky; so eternally blessed; as to call him yours.

you don't register that he's opened the door to let you both inside until a cozy warmth envelopes you. no, wait, that's dabi's fire. it should terrify you that the same man who threatened you with those flames is now at arms length, but you trust him not to hurt you in any way, and so you lean into the gentle licking of heat on your skin, humming in content as your shivering comes to a halt.

dabi's fear of burning you diminishes when you flash him a grateful smile, a whisper of thanks echoing across the walls and pummeling his heart without resistance. he averts his eyes with a curt nod, a feeling like molasses weighing down his tongue and drowning the words he wants to say.

"you're welcome." is all he can muster.

half an hour later, your guitar is drying by the hearth and the two of you are huddled on the window seat, nursing cups of coffee and watching the storm in a comfortable silence. you haven't blinked in a while, meaning you've wandered off the tracks of consciousness as suspected, and pretty soon, you start singing quietly to yourself; the deep crooning used as background noise to your aimless meditation. dabi nudges your calf with his foot and is rewarded with a brief quirk of your lips and a nudge back. he doesn't have the patience nor the brain power to decipher how long this goes on for, but it doesn't matter.

this is fine. the image of red hair and a tall, intimidating figure invades his train of thought, and dabi curls inwards on himself. this is fine.

but it's not.

trembling, he places his mug on the table before retracting back into his seat, clasping his hands together. he tries visualizing the ties of his life coming together to form a rope. the fingers on his left—memories from his past—linking together with those from his right—memories made with you. his palms connect, bringing instant relief with the knowledge that he's here now, practically nestled between your legs, out of harms way. you're both fine.

dabi takes the swelling anxiety and pretends to crush it within his fist; clenching and unclenching it until his peace of mind returns.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" you ask again, still in somewhat of a trance. this time, dabi answers.

"why do you call me that?"

you're caught of guard, half expecting him to ask why you haven't turned him in to the authorities. you've seen him without his disguise, you know his name, and for the past eight months you've been socializing with him like normal human beings do. that's more than both of you could have said in the past. of all the burning questions, he chose that one? "i've heard 'patchwork' and 'staples' and just about everything in between. why shorten it to patch?"

you gape at him, opening your mouth, then closing it, and so on. the pitter patter of rain against the window has ascended into relentless pelting. it sounds like gunfire to dabi; assaulting his ears in floods; but to you, it's nothing more than a waterfall hindering your view of the ocean. the deep breath you take seems to put more suspense in the atmosphere than needed, and it makes dabi's heartrate quicken for an entirely different reason, yet he makes no sign of stopping you.

"because my first thought whenever i see you is how much you remind me of a doll." oh. what?

you can tell by dabi's reaction that that wasn't what he was expecting, so you gesture for him to wait. he isn't sure he likes the forlorn expression you're wearing.

"typically, when kids first get a doll, they treat it like glass and make sure to tend to it with love. other times, doll owners are reckless and tear them apart just to stitch them back together like nothing happened. you use that camouflaged to blend in with the public, and i'm lucky enough to see what's under it. . .but sometimes i wish you'd keep the mask on so i don't have to see you upset."

upset? a fizzing sound erupts from his palms that he struggles to put out. he's not upset.

"don't try to hide it. you're always scowling when you think i'm not looking, or when you forget i'm even here, and i know it's because someone broke you without the intent of fixing you up."

once more, red clouds dabi's vision, and he moves to stand up.

"you had to clean up after their mistakes because no one else would, but instead of reusing the bits and pieces of your old self, you burned them. you destroyed any and all evidence of who you used to be and now you're patching yourself together with parts that aren't your own, because you don't want to hold onto what happened. though, something tells me you still haven't let go, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"you don't know that!" he snaps, but he knows it's not true.

your hand closes around his wrist, and dabi recoils with such strength that it yanks you from your seat. dabi doesn't want you to let go, no matter how much he thrashes in place, because the sensation of your skin on his grounds him. somehow you know this, and you give a comforting squeeze to his pulse.

"but that's not all i see. because dolls are beautiful, and it's the ones who still love them after they're broken that they need the most. no one's told you they think you're beautiful, have they?"

dabi shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze even when you cup his cheek with your free hand tilt it towards you. every touch is filled with hesitancy; feather light and more intimate than anything dabi has ever witnessed, let alone experienced personally. with the way you hold him like he's water in your hands, your eyes overflowing with a love he hasn't known in forever, dabi knows he won't find another feeling like it. you're not the embodiment of good—at least not by society's strict standards—but at least you can sit there and say you've committed a crime. you've never bloodied your hands by hurting others, much less gotten a thrill from doing so, and that's why he pulls away. he has to, because dabi is a harbinger of war, and if he holds you any closer it will only be to kill you.

he says something; a snarl mixed with a broken plea that he prays will make you stop; and you do. his silent victory doesn't last for long, though, because then you're using both hands to cradle his face and fuck, the pads of your thumbs grazing his scars feel like heaven. "won't you let me be the first?" how could he say no? how, when the taste of honey and whiskey is so addictive that he's already drooling into the kiss and willing to beg for more; when your mouth slots perfectly with his and dabi begins to wonder if he's stumbled right into the scene of a cliché wattpad story. the idea causes him to huff out a growl, and although neither of you can talk, he can imagine how strongly you must want to poke fun at him for the action. he can feel you smirking—the smug little bastard you are—and dabi ponders how long it will take to reduce that attitude of yours until you're submitting to him.

not yet. he chastises himself, completely unaware that you're currently thinking the same thing. dabi kneads the flesh of your hips through your jeans while you comb your fingers through his hair, gasping sharply between bruising, wet kisses and keening when he leans down to nurse your lips with soft pecks afterword. you're still trying to process the fact that you've coerced this devious criminal into making out with you in the pale glow of your seaside residence, but for the moment, you need not concern yourself with the details. you've forgotten all about dabi's ego and how this whole situation is no doubt feeding its flames. his grip on your waist is making you too delirious to care.

"fuck." dabi's breath is staggering when you finally pull back, an aura of clarity and desire hanging between the two of you.

"y-yeah. . .that was. . ." you can't produce a word, or even a paragraph to describe it. you know you're going to hit yourself later for admitting such a banal phrase in the midst of what could be classified as your very first kiss, but that is neither here nor there, and you would rather suffer an agonizing death than let dabi find out that he stole your first. you're too preoccupied envisioning all the other firsts to come, so you don't notice the way he stares at you like some precious jewel, but his fingertips brushing your bottom lip succeed in snapping you out of it.

"hm?"

dabi goes quiet, contemplating what to say as the thunder moves abroad and the rain comes to an end, leaving the house in a numbing state of tranquility.

"why not call me doll, then? it'd be easier."

you chuckle in response, playing with the hairs at the base of dabi's neck and making sure not to miss the way he melts into the affection. "i thought that'd be moving too fast." and dabi; still drugged from your kiss and what he can only hope is love; rasps out a genuine laugh, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

"you offered to take a shower with me the night we met, and you think a nickname is moving too fast?"

you stick your tongue out at him, and dabi resists the urge to grab it, even if it's just a bluff.

"would you have let me call you that anyways?" you ask, something hopeful ridden in your tone. dabi feigns consideration as he looks to the ceiling, snickering when you smack his chest. eventually, he murmurs what you audibly hear as "brat" before resting his forehead on yours, an impish glint in his gaze.

"no."

you turn your chin up at him, giggling when he nips at the skin. dabi knows just as well that your attempts at escaping him are halfhearted, so he encircles his arms around your waist tighter, delighting in the flush that paints your cheeks.

"then i think i'll settle for my love, or darling, if that's alright with you."

dabi can't fend off the blush for his life, but he's not afraid if you acknowledge it. he can get you back easily, and he plans to. "fine by me, doll."

[cdelphiki]

“Fuck.”

Jason’s spoon clanked into his bowl, as he dropped it and fumbled for the remote. He’d been watching Jeopardy! with the volume low. Half the fun of the game was answering the questions himself, and really, the idiots on the show were often just distracting.

But Jeopardy! wasn’t on the screen anymore.

The Joker was.

The Joker and the current Robin.

“—play a game, shall we?” Joker said, and Jason just cursed louder as he tossed his cereal on the coffee table and jumped up.

“Hrnn,” Robin groaned, when the camera panned to him, “Who’d want to play with you?”

Fucking brat.

The poor kid looked in rough shape. His mask was slightly ripped, showing off a massive bruise right under one of his eyes. His fat lip and the blood trickling down his chin didn’t help much, either.

Oh, yeah. And the fact he was tied up and inside a tiny little cage.

How the hell had Joker got his hands on Robin?

Never mind, Jason thought, as he kicked around the shit on his floor, freeing the various pieces of his Red Hood uniform, he knew exactly how Robin got himself captured.

Batman was out of town.

And he’d left Robin in charge of Gotham.

Like a fucking moron.

“Uh, uh uh,” Joker said, “That’s no way to behave. Be a good little birdy.”

Robin groaned, when Joker stuck a stick inside Robin’s cage, and jabbed him in the side. He pressed a button, and Tim’s groan turned to a scream as he was electrocuted.

Jason grimaced.

“Now,” Joker continued, through a laugh, “The answer is ‘Topeka.’”

Joker’s stupid fucking laugh.

Jason should not be helping the bats.

He did not help the bats. The bats hated him. And, sure, they had good reason to, but it just meant Jason shouldn’t be helping them out of principle!

Why help people who hate your guts and wish you were still dead?

The bats are out of town, his mind helpfully reminded him, they can’t save Robin. And like hell was Jason going to let Joker kill another Robin.

“Shit,” he mumbled, as he grabbed his helmet and shoved it on his head. All he needed was his guns, now.

“Come now, Robin,” Joker said, “You’re disappointing the viewers at home.”

“No, you’re disappointing the viewers,” Jason snapped, as he placed three guns into his holsters, and grabbed his spare magazines, checking to make sure each was full. “No one wants to watch the fucking Joker fuck with a little kid.”

Even if that little kid was Tim Drake. And annoying as fuck.

The camera zoomed back on Robin’s face, and Robin finally mumbled out, “Capital of Kansas.”

Robin screamed, again, when Joker jabbed him with the shock stick, and Jason growled.

He grabbed his tablet and hacked into the batcomputer in record time. He wasn’t sure if Bruce knew he could still do that, but at the moment he was fucking glad he hadn’t been caught yet.

“You didn’t phrase your answer in the form of a question! Haven’t you ever watched Jeopardy!? That’s what the good folks want right now.”

“Fuck, kid,” Jason mumbled, as he triangulated a location on Robin’s tracker, “Where are you?”

Only Robin’s tracker was listed in Gotham, too. No one else was around. Not Alfred. Not Batgirl. No one.

Why the fuck did Bruce keep leaving Robin all alone?

Hadn’t he learned his lesson the first time?

Tim groaned on screen again, making Jason draw his gun and unload the full clip on the screen.

Shit.

His neighbors probably hated him.

“Where are you,” he growled at the tablet, just as Robin’s location finished loading.

Warehouse in Crime Alley.

Not even five blocks from Jason’s safe house.

Good.

- - -

The Joker had almost no henchmen guarding his warehouse.

Usually Joker’s operations were more thought through. Right?

This time it was just pathetic.

How in the ever-loving-fuck had he got his hands on Robin, anyway?

It took Jason not even ten minutes to reach the warehouse, break in, and incapacitate all ten of his thugs. It took only another fifteen seconds to climb up into the rafters, into the main area where Joker was ‘filming’ with Robin.

“Now, Robin,” Joker said, his his annoying high pitched drawl, “You are down in the negatives. You need to get this next answer correct or—”

Jason didn’t let him finish the thought.

Because he shot the Joker in the ass.

“Shut the fuck up,” Red Hood snarled, as he dropped down from the rafters, right on top of Joker, “No one cares as much as you think.”

“Hood,” Joker said, grinning wide, despite all the blood leaking out of him.

Or, well. Not much. Jason should shoot him again.

Robin would get all high and mighty, if Jason actually killed Joker.

Fucking hell.

“How nice of you to drop by!” Joker said, laughing, “We could use a second contestant.”

Yeah. Sure.

Jason brought his elbow down into Joker’s face. Hard. Breaking his nose and knocking him flat out.

“How disappointing,” Jason said, as he stood up and turned toward Robin, “That wasn’t nearly as satisfying as shooting him in the face would have been.”

Robin stayed laying there, where he was, curled up in his cage, clutching his stomach tight.

Whistling, Jason crossed the room and tried to get Tim’s attention. “Yo. Half-pint, you all right there?”

Tim didn’t react, other than to curl up tighter when Jason approached the cage and put a hand on one of the bars.

“Shit,” he mumbled, “Okay, kid. I’ll get you out.”

Ridiculously, it took longer to figure out a way to get Tim out of the cage.

He tried to pry the fucking lock open with a crowbar he found laying around…

Joker and his fucking crowbars.

But the lock wouldn’t budge, and the stupid replacement Robin kept flinching every time Jason got too near. Which, should have probably made Jason feel bad.

If he were, like, a good person.

Instead it just pissed him off enough that he grabbed the crowbar and started bashing it against the lock, until the damn thing fell off.

“Okay,” Jason said as he opened the cage door, “Tell me what the damage is, kid.”

Robin didn’t respond, so Jason reached in and placed one gloved hand on his shoulder. All he was going to do was shake it, a little. Just to make sure the kid was alive. And like, just out of it.

But apparently Robin was super out of it, because instead of growl at him or snap some dumbass quip, he jumped up and punched Jason right in the stomach.

“Fuck,” he huffed. The little sucker packed a mean one, but he was too damn out of it for it to do more than make Jason wince. “The fuck, kid? Knock it off.”

Tim jumped up, however, on top of the cage, then wobbled there as he tried to right his balance. The second Jason tried to reach out to him, to catch him before he toppled over, or some shit, Tim pulled out a couple of his stupid R shaped throwing stars and started throwing them.

“Shit,” Jason growled, as he dodged, “Kid, knock it off.”

“What do you want?” Robin asked, and with that, apparently reached the end of his spike of adrenaline.

Because the next thing Jason knew, Robin was falling off the cage bars he’d been perched on, and Jason had barely enough time to dive the few feet between them and catch the stupid runt before he landed on the concrete ground, head first.

“Get off me,” Robin demanded, thrashing about in Jason’s hold.

All it made Jason do was squeeze his arms around Tim tighter.

“Stop,” Tim said, his voice getting a little more desperate, “Get off.”

“Ow,” Jason complained, when Tim kicked him in the knee, “Would you knock it off. Am I hurting you?”

Tim stilled, for a second, and seemed to evaluate the situation. Jason was still holding onto him, but he loosed his arms a little.

“No?” Tim asked, like he wasn’t sure if that were the correct answer, or something.

Stupid brat. And they accused Jason of shooting first, asking questions later.

“Then why the fuck are you fighting me?” Jason demanded.

“You’re…” Tim said, then paused as he put a hand up to his head. Shit. Jason needed to get him back to a safe house and checked out.

Letting go of Tim completely, Jason set him down and maneuvered, so he was kneeling in front of the stupid runt. He put a hand on Tim’s head and forced his head back, a little, so Jason could get a good look at it. He could see one of Tim’s eyes, due to his mask having so much damage on it, and it looked like Tim was at least making eye contact.

Or, at least. As much eye contact as he could when Jason was wearing a helmet.

“You’re the Red Hood?” Tim finally answered.

Jason merely huffed. “Yeah. And you’re the boy hostage. Where are you hurt?”

“What?” Tim demanded, “Why do you care?” and Jason rolled his eyes.

“Like I’m gonna let Joker kill you. That’s my job.”

Okay.

Wrong thing to say.

Because Tim’s eye grew wide, and he shuffled backward, out of Jason’s reach, kicking his feet.

Jason tried to grab his feet, to make him stop, but Tim kept kicking, and got Jason right in the ribs.

“Ouch, stop it. I was kidding.” Tim got him on the chin, and Jason snapped, “Just stop. I’m trying to help you.”

“Why,” Tim demanded, as Jason finally caught one of his legs and held it up high enough that Tim lost his balance.

It was kind of amusing, how Tim landed on his back, and just groaned.

“Why’s there gotta be a reason?” he asked, “Maybe I don’t want to see another Robin die!”

“You beat me near to death like two minutes ago,” Tim shouted, pulling at his foot, and not succeeding in freeing himself.

Because Jason was standing, and Tim was short. It would be no trouble at all for Jason to just lift Tim right up off the ground entirely by his leg.

“It’s been four months, stop being dramatic.”

“You expect me to believe you’ve changed enough since then that it matters?” Tim demanded, just as he pulled another throwing star out and threw it at Jason.

Too bad for Tim, Jason saw it coming a mile away. And just caught it.

“Yep!” he cheered, “You done now? You’re, like, super out if it and your fight sucks. If you couldn’t tell.”

Robin mumbled something Jason didn’t catch, so Jason dropped his foot, and tried not to grin too wide when Tim groaned when his body hit the ground.

He didn’t fall too far.

And Jason was sure his head and upper back had been on the ground, already, before he let go.

“Can you walk on your own?” he asked.

Once Tim stopped being all dramatic about everything, he grumbled out a, “No,” so Jason knelt down next to him and offered a hand, to help Tim sit up.

Tim glared at him with so much derision, it risked making Jason laugh.

Instead, all he said was, “Then stop fucking fighting me and let me help.”

“Fine,” Tim snapped, lifting an arm up so Jason could wrap it around Jason’s shoulders, “But if you try anything, I’m calling for Superman.”

“Whatever,” Jason said, as he hefted Tim to his feet, and started making toward the warehouse exit, “Just shut up and let me get you out of here.”

Tim was in pretty rough shape.

Jason already knew that, of course, but it became even more obvious as they made their way back to Jason’s safe house.

Mostly because Jason did all the fucking work.

Tim’s left leg was obviously fucked up. Jason was a little glad he hadn’t held that leg up in the air, because then he’d feel guilty.

And that wasn’t it. He kept clutching at his stomach, and Jason was willing to bet there was at least some pretty bad burns there from all the zapping.

Dragging Tim’s ass up the side of Jason’s building was easy, of course. But annoying. Because Jason had to hold onto Tim tight, because the stupid brat’s grip kept loosening whenever Jason jostled him too much.

“Shit kid,” Jason mumbled, as he pushed Tim through the window to his safe house, “I can’t believe Bruce leaves his fucking kid all alone to protect Gotham when he’s out of town.”

Because, seriously.

This was ridiculous.

Tim was fucked up. And it was all Bruce’s fault.

“M’not his kid,” Tim mumbled, as he stumbled a few feet inside Jason’s safe house, over to the couch. He collapsed down with an oof.

Jason rolled his eyes and closed the window behind him, after he jumped inside. “You are too a kid,” he said, unsnapping his helmet and tossing it down on the ground, “You’re like, thirteen.”

Tim followed Jason with his eyes, even as he sank into the couch a little more, and said, “I’m fifteen. And I said I’m not his kid.”

“Fifteen!” Jason shouted, tossing his gloves on the ground. His safe house was pretty small, so his kitchen was his living room. And he, thankfully, had a pretty good first aid kit sitting in the cabinet under his sink. “That’s how old I was. And obviously I meant his son, you idiot.”

“I’m not his son either,” Tim said.

Jason paused, as he was pulling his kit out, and looked up over the counter at the little brat.

“He didn’t adopt you?”

Hadn’t Talia said….?

How the fuck was he even Robin?

“No,” Tim exclaimed, “I have a dad.”

Is that why Bruce was more lenient on Tim? Because he wasn’t his son?

Bruce never let Jason out of his fucking sight as Robin.

He’d thought that was because he didn’t trust Jason, and clearly he trusted Tim.

But was it maybe because he’d adopted….

Nope. Not thinking about this.

“And he lets you run around with the bats?” Jason asked, finally crossing back over to Tim and slamming the first aid kit down on the coffee table.

Tim jumped, but then scowled at Jason and said, “It’s not like he can stop me.”

“Seriously, kid?”

“Look. It’s none of your business. Are you gonna let me go?”

In that state? Not bloody likely.

But instead of say that, and get Robin all fighty again, Jason said, “I’m not keeping you prisoner, but let me look at your injuries.”

Tim rolled his eyes, but sank back down into the couch and mumbled, “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Jason said, pointing toward the stomach Tim was still clutching, “lemme see.”

It took a second of Tim glaring, but he finally relented and lifted his shirt, and Jason could only wince in sympathy.

“Damn, Timbo,” he said, looking at the criss crossing scorch marks littering his abdomen, “Those look fun. I’ve got some burn cream that should help.”

Jason worked on Tim’s injuries in silence for a good ten minutes. He had so many burns, Jason kind of wanted to go back and shoot Joker in the ass again, just for inflicting them.

And maybe go find Bruce and shoot him in the ass, for leaving Tim all alone for this to happen in the first place.

“That one needs stitches,” Jason said, after he’d pulled Tim’s sleeves up, inspecting his arms for any more burns to treat. Instead, he found a jagged knife wound, that was still oozing a little. “Did you think you could hide it from me?”

Tim pulled his arm closer to himself, and mumbled, “S’not that bad.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and pulled out his suture kit. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Amazingly, Tim didn’t fight him at all, when he took his arm back and started cleaning the wound enough so he could apply the local anesthetic and start stitching it up.

Instead, all Tim did was stare at him, a little blankly.

It was actually unnerving.

“What?” he snapped.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you,” Jason scoffed, readjusting his hold on Tim’s arm so he could get the last few stitches in straight, “I’m not letting Joker kill another Robin.”

And, sure. Stitching the kid up and treating all his burns was going a little above and beyond.

But Jason would feel a little bad if he, like, bled to death or whatever.

“Yeah,” Tim said, blinking hard as he ran his free hand through his hair, “But like, you coulda just took him out and left. Why’re you— ow.”

“Whoops,” Jason said, bearing his teeth a little as he grinned at the accidental needle prick he gave Tim outside the numbed area, “Are you seriously complaining? Don’t you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

Tim was rich, wasn’t he? Weren’t they taught that shit, too?

Jason was pretty sure Bruce never let him be ungrateful about gifts. Not that Jason would, of course. But even Bruce Wayne taught his kids to be thankful for what they had…

Then again. Tim apparently wasn’t Bruce’s kid…

“When that gift horse tries to kill us every other week, no,” Tim said.

“Shut up,” Jason scoffed, “I haven’t messed with you idiots in months.”

Which was, absolutely, completely, 89% true.

He hadn’t attempted anything fatal on them in months. Fucked with their cases for the laughs? Maybe.

Mostly just Bruce’s. When it didn’t get anyone hurt, of course.

Just because it was fun to fuck with Bruce.

Because fuck Bruce.

“Yeah, but— ow.”

Jason might have stabbed him again.

“All done,” he said, before Tim could get out whatever it was he was going to protest, “Congratulations, you’ll survive. You can sleep here. I’m burning the safe house tomorrow, though.”

He’d shot the TV. So it was pretty useless now, anyway.

“Next time you get captured by the Joker, I’m shooting you in the ass, got it?”

“Yeah,” Tim said, rolling his eyes as he settled back on the couch a little more comfortably, “Whatever.”

Jason watched as Tim pulled his legs up and clearly just… collapsed there. To sleep. And rolled his eyes even harder.

Like that would be comfortable.

On his way to the window, after he’d put his helmet back on, Jason grabbed the blanket and pillow from under the coffee table and threw it right at Tim’s head.

Tim scowled, but did readjust himself so he looked at least slightly more comfortable.

Satisfied, Jason nodded and said, “Kay. Tell Bats I said fuck him. Later, squirt.”

“Thanks, Jason,” Tim mumbled, just as Jason was slipping out of the window.

Heh. The runt wasn’t so bad, after all.

Maybe.

But Jason was not going to make a habit of this. No way.

If he did, he’d have to go shoot Batman in the ass, for letting his stupid little Robin get hurt.

That would be fun, actually.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

happy halloween, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Min Yoongi always thought you were like the plague. Always there, tainting everyone with lust. This night wasn’t special. It was just a stupid Halloween party. Or so he thought, until he ended up in bed with you.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, alcohol, smut (fem reader, f-receiving oral, vanilla sex); non-idol!AU (university AU); (mostly) Yoongi’s POV

--

Min Yoongi regretted coming to this Halloween party.

But that's how it was. When he was here, he hated it and when he wasn't, he regretted not going. He couldn't exactly say no to Kim Seokjin either. They were close friends, after all. So, here he was.

He stood in a corner, nursing his beer and wishing it was whiskey. Someone had smashed the bottle throughout the mess that was this university party. Yoongi couldn't understand how people could be so stupid. It wasn't like alcohol changed you as a person - it just revealed who you really were.

And people were stupid. 

He was dressed as a very half-hearted vampire. Black suit, black shirt, with red lip-liner drawn as blood down one side of his mouth. Yoongi's creativity was used on his music, not Halloween costumes. He rubbed his forehead and wondered where Seokjin was. Or Jung Hoseok. Or Kim Namjoon. Or Park Jimin. Or Kim Taehyung. Or Jeon Jungkook, who shouldn't be in some nonsense because that kid was too young. Shit. Yoongi should at least keep an eye on him. He downed his beer and turned around. 

A white, pointed beak nearly poked his eye out. 

Yoongi started, almost stumbling. What kind of mask was that again? He had seen it before, maybe in a movie. Bird-like, white, eyes shrouded by tinted circular lenses, and the mask covered the whole face. A black wide-brimmed hat was perched on top. The long black trench coat covered the body of whoever it was. 

Ah! It was a plague doctor mask. 

Yoongi frowned and waved awkwardly at whoever it was before trying to move to the side to walk past. The person moved to block his way. Yoongi’s brows furrowed. The mask tilted and he felt a sudden sense of unease. The person was wearing some kind of hood that covered the hair and skin underneath the mask. 

"Can I get past you, please?" he said impatiently. 

There was an unsettling pause. It was punctuated by loud music and the sound of someone vomiting. Gross. 

"I don't know, can you?"

Yoongi froze. Even if the voice was muffled, he knew that voice. The voice that taunted and teased him all throughout high school, the voice that belonged to pretty lips and a sharp tongue, the voice that got under his skin and invaded his thoughts every time he...

"You."

You smiled underneath the mask. Yoongi couldn't see, but he could guess. Even though the lenses of the mask were tinted, you could see him pretty well. He didn't look thrilled to see you. 

Yoongi sneered. "You're not the type to cover up on these occasions." He meant the party.

"Still more effort than your... attempt." You made sure to pause in between your words. 

Yoongi's annoyance was getting the better of him. "Yeah, well, I'm not trying to pick up some poor sack of meat that'll probably get discarded before the morning."

You tilted your head in amusement. "You act like you speak from personal experience."

Yoongi frowned. "I would never touch you."

He couldn't tell your expression at all behind the mask. It was frustrating to say the least. Not to mention just hearing your voice was already reminding his body of what you looked like. How many times had Yoongi seen you at high school parties, in someone else's lap, whispering sweet nothings as if you actually cared? Then you catch his eye every time and smirk. You never had sweet nothings to tell him. You never tried to sit in his lap. But you always, always caught him staring at you.

And that pissed him off.

"How many since school started, hm?" Yoongi snapped, not bothering to hide his disapproval. "Ten? Twenty? A record high?"

The bird mask gave him no satisfactory expression. 

"And you?" 

Yoongi felt an icy shiver slide down his back. You raised your black-gloved hands, spreading your fingers out. Then, you began to name names. One after the other, putting down a finger each time. Maybe no one else could hear over all the noise, but Yoongi could. Yoongi could because he knew those names. He stiffened and winced as you listed each girl.

“Stop.” He reached out and grabbed your hands, trying to shove them down. “Stop it.”

“I thought you would never touch me,” you remarked coldly.

He recoiled as if he was on fire. Your tone of voice was disapproving. For some reason, it really bothered him. How you knew all their names was beyond him. Yoongi suddenly felt ashamed, as if he had done something wrong. It wasn’t his number of one-night stands that bothered him. It was the fact that you seemed disappointed somehow, even though he couldn’t see your face.

“How... how did you know?” he muttered, not looking at you.

You stared at his defeated form. You reached up and lifted your hat. The mask was removed and you pushed the hood back before placing the hat back on your head.

“I like keeping tabs on you, Yoongi,” you said calmly, the side of your mouth curving upwards. “As long as you had fun, what’s the harm?”

Yoongi looked up to glare at you. He froze. You weren’t wearing much makeup. He hadn’t expected you to be so beautiful bare-faced, mostly because he didn’t want you to be. It made things… complicated. Your face had the usual smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“But, to make it fair, I will tell you my number is two,” you said nonchalantly. “One, Kim Seokjin.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened. Your smile grew and it infuriated him now that he could see your face.

“He actually invited me to the party, if you’re curious why I’m here,” you added. You pretended to think for a moment before saying, “And number two… Well. I better not say. You look quite annoyed with me already, Yoongi.”

His brows furrowed. You weren’t coy when it came to your sexual exploits. In fact, never, in his entire time knowing you, have you ever withheld a name from him. He narrowed his eyes at you, taking a step towards you. You didn’t move. You weren’t intimidated. You just kept that smile on your face as you watched the realization slowly hit him. There was only one person Yoongi told you to never touch. He always told you the same thing – he’s too young to be tainted by the likes of you. Leave him alone.

Yoongi suddenly grabbed you by the collar, shaking your roughly.

“I swear, if you even laid a fucking fingertip on Jungkook,” Yoongi hissed under his breath, dragging your face close to his.

You raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of which, where is he?”

Yoongi snarled. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

The buttons of your trench coat were slowly slipping. Yoongi looked down, eyes widening as the top two buttons teased apart, revealing the tight, slinky black dress you wore underneath. So tight that it was obvious you weren’t wearing underwear. He could see the contours of your nipples a little too well. He slapped the front of the jacket together, covering you back up.

“The fuck?” he hissed, face burning.

You leaned forward, lips against his ear.

“Like I said… where’s Jungkook?” you purred.

“Don’t you dare.” Yoongi’s voice was dangerously low. “Absolutely not.”

You clicked your tongue. “Are you offering to be a stand in?”

Yoongi could not fathom how you were able to drag him up the stairs and into an empty bedroom that night. If he wasn’t in shock and partially drunk, he wouldn’t have let you do it. Yoongi hated you. He hated that you seemed okay with him hating you. He hated that you didn’t care that he disapproved of your actions. He hated that you always caught him looking, always caught him off guard, always caught him thinking about you. Not that you knew, but it felt that way. Why did you always show up in his head? Why did you always manage to get under his skin? Why… why was his heart beating so fast as you dumped your mask and hat on a spare chair and slipped your shoulders out of the coat? Why couldn’t he bring himself to walk away?

You turned around, looking at him curiously. The coat slid down your body. Every curve was hugged by the slinky fabric of the dress, from your breasts to your ass to your legs. A single eyebrow cocked.

“I thought you would be running by now, Yoongi.”

You said it matter-of-factly. You didn’t step towards him. It was him who took a step towards you, eyes roaming over your shape. Yoongi was not supposed to feel this way. He was not supposed to feel hot all over, itching to rip off his clothes to press his skin against yours.

“Why?” His voice was raspy with nervousness. “Why are you so fucking sexy?”

You smirked.

“Why do you always tease me?” Yoongi hissed, grabbing your upper arms.

You chuckled, reaching to the front zipper of your low-cut dress.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you drawled, dragging the zipper down slowly. His eyes went from your face to the zipper revealing centimeter by delicious centimeter of bare skin. “I’ve always wanted to fuck you, Yoongi.”

And then you reached up and pulled him down for a kiss.

Lips to lips, Yoongi gasped as your body pressed against his. You nipped at his lower lip, kissing him deeply. Unlike him, you didn’t taste like beer. You tasted like fruit candy and sin, your free hand sliding under his suit jacket and deftly unbuttoning his dress shirt. It wasn’t fair how soft your lips were or how you smirked against his lips as your cool fingertips touched his chest. It was fair that his heart was beating as loud as a bass drum.

“What’s the matter, Yoongi?” you whispered softly, tracing patterns on his bare chest. “Cat got your tongue?”

Yoongi sucked in a breath and grabbed your hand. “You… You’re just messing with my head.”

“Am I now?” You tilted your head at him, one of your arms wrapped around his waist. “You paint such an interesting picture of me in your head.”

Yoongi paused. Wasn’t that your nature? You slept with whoever you wanted, whenever you wanted. And so did he. He did it to numb his feelings. He did it to forget you. He did it because you did it so easily and without even considering that someone would care. That someone did care.

And here you were, half-naked in his arms, watching him with an amused expression on your face. As if you knew. As if you had been waiting for this epiphany. It was easier to hate you than to admit that you had an effect on him.

Yoongi leaned in and kissed you himself, pulling you to him. Kissing you hungrily as he stumbled to the bed to push you down on it. It didn’t take long to shrug out of his blazer. It took even less for you to slide out of your dress and toss it aside. Yoongi bent down and kissed down your neck, nipping at your skin. His tongue traced slow, playful circles around your nipple before you grabbed him by the back of his head and pushed him down. Yoongi chuckled as he sucked hard, making you squirm in delight. He left love bites on your skin. You moaned above him, imprinting his memories with you. Your smell invaded him, sweet and heavy. His hands were on your hips, fingers sinking into softness.

Fuck. Yoongi might have been a little drunk, but now he was intoxicated.

Yoongi kissed down your stomach, the scent of sex becoming stronger and stronger. He pushed your legs open impatiently. Your wet, glistening pussy greeted him, making him breathless. He really must be going crazy. With a slight adjustment, he leaned down and licked you softly, earning a satisfying cry of desire. He would have said something snarky, but at this point he didn’t trust himself anymore. He just leaned in and closed his eyes, moaning at your delicious, honey-like taste. Was eating pussy supposed to taste this good? It made Yoongi’s mind go blank and his cock twitch with need as he pressed the tip of his tongue against your clit, lapping at it softly. He could feel your fingers in his hair, feel your hips jut into his face begging for more. If there was any sexual talent he had, it was eating pussy. Within minutes, Yoongi had your legs turned to jelly, shaking with pleasure as he sucked and lapped at your sensitive clit. You threw your head back, nearly screaming as you came into his mouth and yet he continued, sucking and rubbing another orgasm out of you until your clit was throbbing with oversensitivity.

You pushed his head away lightly and Yoongi finally let go, your juices dripping from his chin. He was breathing hard, wiping it with the back of his hand and licking it off.

If this was a normal one-night stand, Yoongi might have left it like that. But it wasn’t enough for him. He needed more from you. Yoongi stood up and undid his pants. His erection strained against his underwear. He took his wallet out of the pocket and let the pants fall to the floor. He always kept a condom, just in case.

“Move up,” Yoongi gestured. His voice was a little hoarse, throat coated with your taste.

You did so, watching him closely. He caught you staring and waved the condom at you.

“Precautions.”

You smirked. “By all means. I wouldn’t let you near me without one.”

Yoongi sneered, shoving his underwear down and slipping the condom on. He climbed up onto the bed and positioned himself above you, biting his lower lip nervously. For some reason, he wanted it to be good. He wanted it to be abnormally good so that you wouldn’t forget. You raised an eyebrow.

“Second thoughts?”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “No.”

And he sank into you.

It took his breath away. Every inch of him was wrapped in wet, delicious pleasure. He pushed all the way in, marveling at the way you squeezed him. He knew it was you, because your stupid smirk was not disappearing as your muscles clenched around him.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, closing his eyes. He had girls beg for him before. Plead for his cock, take him well. But never, never had his dreams come true. Because his dreams were about you and even in his dreams you didn’t mold his cock this well. It just wasn’t something he could imagine.

You pushed your hips up and Yoongi got the hint, sliding back out before thrusting into you. You grinned, licking your lips.

“Come now, Yoongi. You must be frustrated with me. Let me feel it.”

A muscle twitched in his face. “God, you’re so annoying.”

He rolled his hips into you, hard, and you gasped, smirking. Fuck. You really were annoying. He did it again, and again, and again, until you were moaning his name, hands twisting into the sheets, that smirk always on your face reminding him you had the upper hand. It was maddening and yet Yoongi could do nothing about it because he was attempting not to cum from the constant squeezing of your pussy around him. He had to grit his teeth and pound you, your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Hey, Yoongi,” you drawled breathlessly.

“What?” he snapped, cocking an eyebrow.

“You’re so fucking sexy.”

His cheeks burned and his resolve slipped for a second.

“F-fuck!”

His orgasm crashed down on him like a wave, a sharp groan punctuating it as his cock jerked inside you. He jutted his hips into you, crotch slick with your juices. Your smirk grew, tongue between your teeth.

“You… I’m going to fucking gag you next time,” Yoongi hissed, sweat dripping off his brow. He hadn’t even noticed he was sweating. Was he really going that hard?

“I’ll hold you to that,” you purred, pulling him down for another kiss.

--

masterpost

[anothertimdrakestan]

Light Of My Life Jason Todd x Reader

LINK TO PT 2

Words: 2.7k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Hello! May I have a Jason Todd x reader where the reader is a really powerful superhero from the avengers and is well known and she met Jason when she was hopping on rooftops in Gotham (for fun idk haha) and the reader feels lonely and they bond over that with Jason and they start dating and when Jason’s brothers find out they’re dating (a few months later) they freak out and say things like “YOURE DATING THEM?! How did this happen?!” Thank you!”

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

Ok so I took this as a new avenger I hope that’s okay :). It’s mostly selfish that I wanted to write my own badass hero for Jason to simp for... can you blame me? She’s basically a heroin Livewire for those of you that watched Supergirl. Also you really set me up for a long fic so strap in anon, you did this to yourself by giving me an amazing request! Hope you enjoy! xoxo

“You’re kidding right. Gotham? Mr. Seclusive Bat Brat’s turf? Not a chance in hell.” you groaned hearing your newest mission. “Sorry Y/H/N you’re headed to nut-case capital” your comm buzzed back and you rolled your eyes. At least it was a short trip right? Confirm with Dr. Strange exactly the newest magical item you needed to look for, find it, and get out. Maybe zap a couple villains for shits n giggles. Grabbing your motorcycle you headed out, praying for a short trip. 

Arriving at your hotel you began to set up, having powers meant no bulky suit which was nice but Strange had set you up with about a million photos, books, and what looked like scrolls about a stupid helmet. Apparently all the helmet did was let the wearer float and see in the damn dark, half of the avengers could do that shit already. But when THE Dr. Strange makes a request of the Avengers, they comply. 

You’d heard about a drug leader with an eye for shiny objects, and you decided to start there hoping you could really give him a show. Waiting for night to fall you headed out, appreciating the constantly terrible weather in Gotham, lightning cracked in the sky exhilarating you, taking it as a sign from your gods that they liked this mission you felt the electricity run through your veins as you sped towards the ring a friend of yours had tipped you off about. Propping your bike up on the side of the building you felt the electricity dancing through the wires of the building and you zapped into them, travelling in to the main room.

Jason just about pissed his pants. He watched this hot motorcycle chick park her (sexy ass) bike outside the drug ring he was busting that night and right when he was about to put on some Red Hood Charm™ he watched her turn into a giant spart and shoot into the building through the camera system. Realizing she was going to do his job for her he decided to watch from above, trying to figure out who the mystery meta was. As he sat perched on the top of the building he couldn’t help but hope it was Y/H/N, one of the most prominent new Avengers but what was she doing in Gotham? Regardless he sat, ready for the lightshow.

What you saw inside the building was horrific. Disgusting men were throwing cash around to take home young, terrified girls. Disregarding the mission at hand you flashed into the middle of the “show”. Immediately guns were out but that had never stopped you. Dissapaiting into one of the lights you enjoyed how some of the men shrieked at your powers. “Shit dog I think it’s Y/H/N but what’s she doin in Gotham?” never able to pass an opportunity to boast you appeared behind the group smirking “hey boys. Don’t there girls look a little young for you? That said, you should let them go or I’ll get angry. And you’d be shocked with how angry I can get - literally.” you held up a hand letting sparks dance in you palm. What you didn’t expect was to see a blundering idiot in a red mask crash through the ceiling. 

Before you could light him up he called “uh hey! It’s Y/H/N right? Big fan. Red Hood pleasure to meet you. See, this is usually my territory, drugs and all, but I’d be happy to share with a lovely lady like you so-” you scoffed. “Shut up BatBrat I don’t intend on swinging minor league with you tonight, I just want these girls out of here and to talk with you” you gestured to the drug lord, annoyed this Red Batman or whatever his name is was getting in your way. “Minor leagues huh? Princess if you think this is any type of game you’re wrong, we don’t play by the rules here.” and he pulled out two guns and began firing. This shocked you. You thought the bats held the same standards as the majority of the Avengers, no killing. This clearly went down the drain as you watched him blow the brains out of the majority of the drug dealers. 

Deciding this wasn’t the night for you to successfully capture the man you needed, especially because Stark would kill you if you got in a fight with another vigilante on an away mission. While Red Mask went hand to hand with the guards you helped the girls escape, shooing them towards the exit and making them promise to be safer. After securing the public’s safety you took a moment to watch Red Armour fight. He was trained you had to admit, he ducked and punched like he’d been doing in for years, he was refined in skill but reckless and practice, it was fascinating. “You gonna help or is that not in the Avenger’s handbook?” you smirked as he got pinned by a couple guards. As he was preoccupied you zapped to the drug lord, shocking him enough to put him down long enough to move him. Forming an electric rope around his limbs you began dragging him out. “Sorry RedBat I got what I came for, you make a good side kick though” with a wink you walked out, not before hearing him shout “ITS RED HOOD SPARKY” 

In one of the Avenger’s safe houses you’d tied up your captive. “This is super easy buddy, all I need to know is where to find the Helmet of Razadazar” what a stupid fucking name, it doesn’t even sound cool. Knowing he’d feign innocence you prepared yourself for light, pleasure for you, not so much for him...

“You’re. Lying. Todd.” Tim’s fingers flew across the BatComputer. “Y/H/N in Gotham? EPIC!” Jason rolled his eyes. “Drake she definitely wasn’t all that amazing, plus she gave the impression she wasn’t long for Gotham so it’s probably nothing. Newbie training for the A list.” Tim sighed, Jason was probably right, the Avengers left Gotham to Batman, no one wanted a piece of it. “Alright, but you gotta tell me everything, I think she shorted all the camera footage so you better use all the detail.” Jason agreed, secretly excited to recount his experience, maybe fangirl a little. All he knew was that he was going to find you, the only game he wanted to play was chasing you.

After taking a short lecture from Captain A about aggressive torture techniques and why they should be AVOIDED you had gotten your answer. Apparently an underground auction with other-worldly treasures was the place to be. At least Gotham’s wealthy were making everything easy for you tonight. 

Jason adjusted his bowtie as he waited to enter the auction. Attending as Bruce Wayne was easy, he did owe Damian a barn now, but it was a worthy pay off for Damian to endure some father-son time as a cover up while Jason played billionaire. Finding an excuse to go other than finding Y/H/N wasn’t hard either, and now here he was, hoping you’d stand out. Let’s just say fate helped a little.

Sitting at a table with your fake identity as Ms. Stark was equally as easy. Excited to be meeting Mr. Wayne the Gothamite who was seated next to you. As he sat down he looked younger than the paparazzi pictures showed. You stuck out a hand to shake and he took it gently, kissing it, to your surprise. He looked at your smirking, “looking lovely tonight Sparky” you’re jaw dropped. Mr. Wayne I had no idea Red Cap was your speed” you whispered, shocked, but slightly comforted to know you had your sidekick here.”It’s. Red. Hood. And just as you Ms. Stark, this identity is not my own.” it made sense, but it was still impressive. 

Having exchanged pleasantries with the table the auction began. Item after item went, you and Hood slid in low bets to seem interested, but you wondered why he had came. Then the helmet was up. You sucked in a breath knowing the plan was to win the bid then snatch the helmet. You bid politely against someone at table 37 until it was yours. “Going once” “Going twi-” the auctioneer stopped as Mr. Wayne raised his paddle, tripling your bet. The auctioneer looked shocked at the amount, not letting you bid again before he shouted “SOLD to the sir at table 14!” For the second time that night your jaw dropped. “I need that helmet!” you whisper yelled. “That old thing? Sure princess. You just have to get dinner with me tomorrow” you realized he just spent millions and millions of dollars just to win your time. “Deal” you hissed. 

Jason decided not to tell his brothers about his date. Feeling like it was a once in a lifetime opportunity he wasn’t ruining it. After hiding the helmet in the BatCave he was waiting for you at a candle lit table for two. When you walked in he knew it was love at first sight. Sitting down across from him you smirked. “You clean up nice..” he finished for you “Todd. Jason Todd.” taken aback you’d heard about him, the kid that lived, part of the Wayne family. “Well if we’re going real names Mr. Todd what do I have to lose, y/n l/n” you smiled, drinking in his appearance. He was dashing you had to admit, confident and laidback it was alluring. “Beautiful name to fit a gorgeous girl” he winked, to your shock, making you blush. 

The two of you spent the night throwing snide comments, compliments, and flirtation between you. Something about Jason just clicked, it felt right. After hours at the table you and Jason went for a walk around Gotham while he showed you his most memorable spots. Somehow the two of you wound up on the top of a skyscraper staring at the stars. Finally having a person who understood the burden of heroism but wasn’t judging you for being new was refreshing. Only knowing each other for hours it felt like it had been years, confiding in each other about some of your deepest secrets. Jason was amazed with your powers, but you explained that they were hard to control, bottling electricity up in anything was difficult, batteries rotted, lightbulbs broke, and sometimes it felt like you were no different. He watched as you showed him how sparks danced across you skin and though he didn’t tell you, they’d been sizzling around you since dinner, an aura vibrating around you as you laughed, cried, and smiled with him.

“So Lightning McQueen, what do the sparks do when you’re happy?” you grimaced at another of his nicknames and explained how they crackle and pop sometimes taking on certain weather-like patterns. “Huh, well let’s see some lightning then” Jason grabbed your hand pulling you into his chest, using the other hand to lift your eyes to meet his as he leaned in. You sped up the process, hands wrapping around his neck, crashing his lips on yours. He was right, lightning struck across the sky as sparks danced between the two of you. Pulling away he grinned as he breathlessly looked at you. “Beautiful” You pulled him in for more, deciding maybe Gotham wasn’t so bad if he was here. 

“Why does Y/H/N always get the Gotham missions?” Peter Parker groaned. “Well seeing as she practically lives there it’s easy” the rest of the gang retorted as you blushed. “I guess I just really like the weather” you grinned while everyone rolled their eyes knowing the reason Gotham was having more lightning than ever was no coincidence. 

“Honey I’m homeeeeee” you squealed as you zapped into your kitchen. Jason had learned not to be alarmed when you appeared out of thin air and he opened his arms as you fell into his embrace. “Hello to my favorite double A” he grinned when you gave him a zap, he knew you loved all his nicknames. He pulled you out of his embrace looking you dead in the eyes. “Sparky it’s time you meet my family, you know Tim is going to kill me for hiding you” You were so excited, timing never aligned or one of you was injured or not on Earth but finally, it was time to meet the family. 

You’d snuck into the manor before, but everytime it seemed to get bigger. Jason squeezed your hand warning you about how annoying his family was. As you entered you took in everything. The cutest little boy was chasing a grown man with a sword, a teenage boy sat on a kitchen cupboard shotgunning an energy drink, all while a nice elderly man chopped carrots calmly in the kitchen. Breaking the silence you began to name each boy “Uh hi guys! I’m y/n you probably know me as Y/H/N but I’m so excited to be here! I’m guessing Damian, Dick, Tim, and the wonderful Alfred!” all the boys froze. Alfred smiled and continued chopping.  “Oh my god oh my god oh my god” Tim jumped off the cupboard wide eyed staring at you. “Todd how do you know her?” Dick looked at you, shocked to see an Avenger not in costume next to his brother. 

“Actually guys I’ve known Y/N for a while, remember Tim that night? We’ve kept in touch since and I’m lucky enough to be her boyfriend!” Jason kissed you on the cheek and immediately Tim passed out. As Dick poured water on the teen Damian walked up to you and you bent down to look him eye to eye. “Prove you’re Y/H/N because I don’t believe Todd could pull a famous hero like Y/H/N” Jason started “No y/n it’s fine” but you wanted to make a good impression so you zapped into the light fixture, counted to 5, then appeared on the cupboard Tim had been on, only to zap back nex tot Jason. “TT I’m impressed Todd. Y/n let me say I’m impressed with your recent activity with the Avengers. I know what it is like to be surrounded by older, entitled idiots.” Damian stuck out a tiny hand and you shook it, making sure to give him a little shock. 

Having woken up Tim began rapid fire questions. “So Todd lied you’re here? And you like him? Can I just say you’re so cool. Would you let me run some tests on your powers? What’s the biggest lightshow you’ve done? What is spiderman like? I feel like I’m quicker than him but I don’t know. Do you love Jason?” you tried to take in all the questions. “Yes I’m here, yes, thank you, sure I guess, biggest was cracking a small moon in half - don’t asl I was mad, spidey is cool kind of a dweeb but, he’s pretty quick but I haven’t seen you, and yes I do love Jason” you took a deep breath. Jason smiled at you, glad you could keep up with Tim’s q & a. Suddenly Tim grabbed Dick’s arm and started running to the BatCave, “okay y/n I’m gonna go set up some tests come down in a minute. Todd you lucky asshole you bring her down in five okay?” before you could reply he was gone. 

Taking a deep breath Jason wrapped his arms around you. “I’m so glad you can deal with them, but if Drake gets really bad knock him out cold” you chuckled, knowing that dealing with the Wayne’s was more difficult for Jason than it was for you. “Anything for you babe” you grinned. “Always the light of my life y/n” you rolled your eyes knowing the jokes would never stop, one of the many reasons you loved Red Hood with all your heart. 

haha I never do A/N but do y’all get the pun in the title hehehehe wow I need to go to bed. Also check out the pun in my masterlist lolz. Now, dear reader, that you read this post we have an inside joke together hehe... love you! xoxo

[reddrobins]

of coffee cups + criminals - two [j.todd]

TW: violence

ONE - THREE

[Y/N] stood statue-like in her apartment living room. Since hanging up on Jason, not another word had been uttered. 

Sionis had finally moved from his spot, now opting to move around her kitchenette. Her eyes remained glued on the criminal before her.

“So,” The Black Mask finally spoke, “Miss… [L/N], is it?”

Of course, [Y/N] comprehended his words, but fear disabled her ability to reply. 

The masked man gazed expectantly upon her, waiting for her response. Roman chucked to himself, it seemed that his confrontations always started out this way. Approaching her, he stood within an arm's length, eyebrows raised in waiting.

“Well?” He drawled out, clearly bored, it seemed to [Y/N] that he had done this more than once.

“Yes.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and she feared that maybe she had said it in her head. That was until Roman clapped his hands together, seemingly  happy with her answer.

“Wonderful,” He sauntered back to the kitchen area, gloved fingers lingering on the countertops, “I have to say, we did have some difficulty tracking you.” 

As the words sank in, she watched as he took - what she assumed to be - a phone out of his jacket pocket. 

Curiosity getting the better of her, [Y/N] let out a hushed, “What?”

Sionis, to be frank, found her quite humorous. When he usually came to set a record straight, the sorry Gothamite he encountered was often hostile, whipping out whatever protective items they had. [Y/N]’s reaction was vastly different from any one he had come into contact with thus far.

“Oh yes,” He started, all the while scrolling through the files Mr. Li had sent him. “[Y/N] [L/N], 21 years old, originally from Metropolis…” Sionis looked up from his phone, he smirked at her, “Fan of the Man of Steel I presume?” 

[Y/N] swallowed the fear rising in her throat as Roman continued to lazily look at her information. She stood as still as she possibly could, but her mind was racing. Millions of thoughts as to how to escape, how to run, how to get to Jason, swarmed her head.

An annoyed sigh followed by a slam shook her out of her thoughts. “So much information on you, yet so little telling me what I want to hear.” Sionis brought a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. It was unlike his informants to have this little confirmation on [Y/N]’s allies, it was as if he couldn't connect her to anyone.

Then, “Look-” He started, walking towards her once more, “You seem like an upstanding girl, my men reported that you make a damn good cup of coffee,”

He continued his monologue, but [Y/N] had tuned out. Of course - she thought - Of-fucking-course. Literally just her luck that the only reason for the shop to be busy was through the workings of the criminal underworld.

A harsh grip brought her back to the situation. The Black Mask had his clothed fingers wrapped around her forearm, squeezing with enough force to bruise. “Well!?”

[Y/N] looked at him, confusion clear on her face, “...huh?” 

Roman all but growled,fingers tightening their hold, “I’m sorry dear, I didn't take you for an incompetant fool.” 

Surprised at his newfound hostility, she tried to pull away - only angering Sionis further. “Now, I am going to ask again. What do you know about the Red Hood?”

The Red Hood.

She knew of the infamous vigilante, of course - all of Gotham did. 

“I-I- I don't know, just, he’s like,” [Y/N] sputtered for an answer, unsure what to say to keep Roman at ease, “He works with the Batman! I know that…” 

Unfortunately, this was not what Roman wanted to hear. “I know that, you idiot!” He grit out, throwing [Y/N] from his hold. The girl stumbled back, nearly falling to the floor. She braced herself onto her knee, keeping her from falling forward.

The Black Mask stalked towards her crouched form and gripped her chin, forcing her gaze to be on him. He gave her a sickening smile, “Let me rephrase the question for you, and this time give me a competent response.”

Roughly releasing her face, he stepped away and took the switchblade out of his pocket once more. “What do you know about the Red Hood…”

Helplessly, [Y/N] began to protest, “That’s the same questio-”

Roman waved the blade back and forth, tutting at the girl before him, “Tsk, I didn’t finish. What do you know about the Red Hood, personally?”

[Y/N] didn't fail to hear the implication in his question. He phrased it as though the two had history, as though [Y/N] and this Red Hood were in cahoots with one another. 

“I’m telling you,” She pleaded, “I don't know him. I-I don't know who you think I am, but I’ve never even met this guy!” 

At that, the Black Mask scoffed, rolling his piercing eyes, and began to pace. “So…” He hissed out angrily, “So you’re telling me that, this-” Roman shoved his phone towards [Y/N]’s face, a picture bright on the screen. “Isn't you?”

It took a second for her eyes to focus on the screen in the dim apartment. But even without pure vision, [Y/N] already knew the answer. She could immediately recognize the picture.

It was on the corner street near Robinson Park. It was ‘their’ spot. When she got off of work at 4:00, Jason would meet her there, the two walking home together. 

The image displayed her, bag slung on her shoulder, tiredly waiting for Jason to show.

[Y/N]’s throat was dry, but knew a response was expected, pushing through - she squeaked out a small, “No.”

Roman narrowed his eyes, “No?” He then laughed, the sound eerily deep and stunning, “‘No’ she says!” 

In a second, he towered over [Y/N], stained cafe apron clutched in his fist, pulling her up towards him. “Do you think this is a joke? Think I’m here on a friendly visit?”

[Y/N] shook her head frantically, pulling her head as far back as possible, “N-No! No, I mean, Yes, yes that's me but no - no I don't think it's a joke.”

Sionis loosened his hold, now leaving [Y/N] at an arm's length from him. Just when she began to think she was out of the woods, the silver butterfly knife made its true appearance. The gangster held it in front of him, pointing the sharp tip towards [Y/N]’s chest.

“I’m done with the games.” Was all he uttered. 

Unsure of what to say, the terrified girl stayed silent. This apparently was on the list of ‘ways to piss off the Black Mask’. Her lack of response elicited another groan from Roman, thus annoying him to the point of no return.

Raising the blade, he traced her jawline - not hard enough to cut, only to instill fear. “You have one of two options, you either spill what you know about the Hood or…”

The smile that appeared on his face let [Y/N] know that no, she didn't really have an option here.

“I spill your guts.”

It was a lie, but she didn't know that. Roman knew that she meant far more to him alive than dead. They had already established that the deal was a life for a life. The Black Mask wasn't stupid, he knew who he was making business with, he knew not to fuck this one up.

[Y/N] however, was unaware of this promise. Upon hearing the threat, she let out a strangled sob, a feral cry of helplessness. There was no way she would be getting out alive, she didn't know a single thing about this hooded vigilante.

“Please!” tears now flowed freely down her face, “I promise you, I don't know anything about him. Just let me be.” Backing up, [Y/N] tried to put as much distance between the two, “I won’t tell anyone you were here. I- I’ll just go in my room and act like nothing happened. Please, I promise.”

Though [Y/N]’s whimpering brought immense joy to the masked villain, Roman had heard enough. He was running on a time constraint and if he wasn't to deliver the package within the night, the Red Hoodlum wouldn't be taken care of.

“You had your chance,” Sionis nodded to the shadows, and to [Y/N]’s surprise, out walked two men. How she hadn't noticed them before, beats her - but here they were in all their large and intimidating glory. “I’d like you to meet my men, Miss [L/N]. Rick, Leon-” He lazily acknowledged the two, “Please grab the girl and bring her up to the roof. Our ride awaits.”

As the two men stalked towards her, [Y/N] silently debated her options. One being she lets the Mask take her and she dies, and two, she makes a run for it and she dies… probably. Either option seemed like a loss and so with all her common sense left back in Metropolis, she made a beeline to the door.

Unsurprisingly, the three felons didn't seem at all phased by this fruitless attempt at evasion. Roman didn't so much as have to jerk his head towards her fleeting form for the two large goons to get the memo. 

Almost at unhuman-like speed, the largest man, Rick, grabbed hold of [Y/N], easily pulling her further from the safety of the door. With minimum effort, he twisted her struggling form into a headlock, both arms braced around her upper body. 

[Y/N] clawed at the man's vice lock, doing everything in her power to gain control. If she learned anything from her years in Gotham, it was that in situations like these, the one thing you need to survive is control. 

Alas, it seemed as though tonight was anything but controllable for [Y/N]. ‘And for what?’ She found herself thinking, ‘All because of a stupid fucking vigilante she doesn't even know?’ Normally, she was not one to get angry, but after a moment of introspection, she then realised how fucked her situation was.

Resorting to the last possible tactic, [Y/N] threw out every ounce of hesitance in her body and bit down onto Ricks arm. Maybe it was in pure shock, or just plain disgust, but Rick immediately uncurled his arms, freeing [Y/N] from his hold.

With no time to gloat at her self defense skills, [Y/N] once more raced to the door, already feeling the sense of safety at her fingertips.

But like all good things, this quickly came to an end.

Right as her hand gripped the door knob, the cool metal slipped from her grasp, a rough tug pulling her back. On instinct, she brought her hand up to her head - the source of the painful yank. Someone had pulled her back by her hair, the stinging pain slowly spreading about her head.

Before she could even wonder who the perpetrator was, Sionis’ stygian face came into view. This time, he feigned a look of sorrow, though an obvious hint of pleasure shone through. “Look, I really didn't want to have to do this, but you’re not making my life a whole lot easy.”

[Y/N] didn't have a chance to question what ‘this’ was. That was until the brass-knuckled fist made contact with her temple.

-

Jason knew something was wrong when she hadn't picked up the first three tries. Though he had not totally let her into his past, [Y/N] knew enough to pick up on his anxious tendencies.

It was an unspoken code in their relationship. If someone didn't pick up within three calls, without prior reason, it was expected of the other to call the GCPD. Or, in Jason's case- The Red Hood.

After her abrupt hang up, Jason had gone back to his safe house, deciding it would be better to track [Y/N]’s cell rather than worry the whole night.

It was now thirty past midnight, almost an hour since her last call. Jason, though he wanted to, didn't immediately jump into action as the tracer was pinning [Y/N]’s phone location to be in her home. 

‘Maybe she fell asleep?’ Jason thought in a sorry attempt to calm his worries. ‘Highly unlikely,’ He retorted to himself, of course, it was a common occurrence to be his own worst enemy.

His anxieties finally getting the best of him, he re-dawned the scarlet helmet and headed out the door, not without strapping a few extra guns onto his person.

Jason had only set up this safe house when he and [Y/N] had started dating. She lived closer to the Narrows, as a result of cheap rent and close distance to the coffee shop. But Jason, who mostly dealt with the Diamond district and sometimes Amusement Mile, couldn't have been farther from [Y/N]. So, using up some of the money he had nabbed off of Cobblepot’s latest (terminated) heist, he purchased a small storage location just a block from her complex.

It had only taken Jason ten minutes to arrive at her apartment, the benefit of having a grappling gun. Before even entering the door, Jason knew something was wrong.

Normally, when he came to visit late a night, he could see light seeping out from under the door crack. Tonight, however, it was jet black. Opting to pick the lock instead of acting on his urge to kick down the door, Jason silently toed into the room. 

The silence only confirmed his thoughts. 

Even in the depths of night, [Y/N]’s house was not quiet. Music, TV chatter, a podcast even, just something was always playing. The eerie stillness shook him to his core, his anxiety spiking the further he crept into her home. Upon brief inspection, he was able to deduct that she had been home… but not alone.

Several pairs of shoeprints littered the floor. He could easily recognise her’s, the small curves in between the outline - definitely [Y/N]’s boots. But he struggled with the three others. It was not that [Y/N] didn't have any friends, she had many - but they were back in Metropolis, surely they wouldn't show up at midnight at random.

Jason scrunched his eyes closed under the mask. Leave it to him to be the one whose girlfriend disappears. Comparison crept back into his head, “Dick’s never lost Barbara, Tim and Steph are always together… Even Bruce can contact Selina when needed…” 

The ugly thought of ‘WHY ME’ was plastered behind his eyes, but he shook it off. [Y/N] was his top priority right now, not his own insecurities.

Accepting that this may be bigger than his detective skills, (Jason had always considered himself more of a fighter) he fished something out of his leather jacket. Entering a number he thought he never would, he connected the phone to his coms.

“Hey, it's me…” A breath, then, “I, I think I might need your help on this one.”

[octalove]

IV: The Dinner

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Brief note; per demand, this little trilogy will now be an ongoing series🥺thank u all for the support! i was not expecting it at all. ur comments make my day!! i hope u enjoy this chapter bearing in mind that i wasn’t intending on a full length fic, so i hope u can put up with any missteps in the plot or writing. i’m making it up as i go. kiss kiss

Description: Reader makes an ally, and attends a tense dinner. part one, two, and three.

A mild blue dawn was just beginning to flit through the blinds, and I sighed heavily, stretching a little, and running a hand across my face. My skin was cold to the touch. Rolling over stiffly, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand.

5:26a.m.

Nineteen minutes before my alarm. I was too cold to go back to sleep, I knew, as much as Alfred had requested I try and get more of it. Pulling myself up, the sheets slipped off my bare shoulders and folded onto themselves. Once in a blue moon, I would forego making it up again, usually accompanied by an excuse. Today, I didn’t have one. I put my feet on the floor, mind buzzing.

I was done tossing and turning, and decided to get up and shower. Afterward, I threw on my uniform, and got to work on my face. A little bronzy eyeshadow, some mascara and lip balm. I could’ve turned my face into a work of art, but I was tired from my sleepless night and doing much else seemed like a strain.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” I was expecting Bruce or Alfred, but I caught Tim’s reflection in my vanity mirror.

“Hey.” He said.

“Good morning.” I replied tensely. He sat on my bed. Okay. Weird. Tim was a year younger than me- but always ordained himself something of an older brother. His brainpower made learned helplessness and easy state to slip into when he was around- always fixing my PS4, or recovering lost files from my laptop. When we first met, I used to use those things as a crutch to interact with him, as neither of us were particularly forthcoming. These days, we were as close as any pair of siblings.

“What’s up?” I asked, tucking away my mascara wand.

“Oh, I just thought I’d… check up on you. Before school started.”

I was the only one of the Waynes attending Gotham Academy at the moment. Damian was still at Gotham Prep, but by the time he would attend next year, I’d be graduated. I wondered if Tim ever missed it. He garnered his fair share of attention; mostly because of his attractive status and predisposition of agreeability. Before he dropped out, I used the be the subject of mediation for every eligible teenage girl that wanted to get to know my brother- no, the other one. With the soft hair. The chem tutor.

I laughed a little. “Do I seem like I need it?” Tim shrugged. I got up and plopped on the duvet beside him. My window was open a crack, filling the room with a chilly breeze and the scent of moisture and petrichor.

“Did Bruce make you get up for this?” I tried again, keeping my playful tone. He sighed and shook his head.

“Bruce isn’t the only one who’s noticed you lately.” He said, with contrasting seriousness that made my smile fall.

“What’s there to notice? Seriously.” I questioned.

He sighed again and twisted his lip. I knew what that meant. He was about to list everything different I’d been doing for the past three weeks, either alphabetically or by severity. “You look tired. You get home and go straight to your room. You keep fidgeting during briefings. You look distracted. You’re avoiding Damian- which, I get it- but like, more than usual. Dick said you haven’t texted him all week. You usually have something to say about your day at dinner, but-“

“Okay. I get it.”

A brief moment passed, where I watched him pull a looser string from the duvet.

“I know you went somewhere. On the 21st, when we were patrolling in Otisburg. You went somewhere for forty-two minutes.”

I blinked. “Oh.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything-“ He added quickly, looking at me. “Really, I have know idea why you left. I’m sure it was nothing, I just… you’ve been acting weird ever since. Where did you go?”

I swallowed, and my intestines felt like lead. Really, I was relieved. Here I was, in my room I’d decorated with Wayne money, with my brother who evidently cared enough about me to notice my typical word count at dinner, asking me what was wrong. And a lot was wrong.

So, I smoothed my plaid skirt and told him about the night of the 21st- and only that. From Red Hood, to Hoffman, to the warehouse. Every vivid detail I could remember. I decided to leave out my little truancy adventure, along with meeting him in the alley. Lifting up his mask. Having his exposed skin close enough to touch. His gunpowder smell. By the end, Tim was frowning. The following silence could’ve crushed a coke can.

“Shit.” He muttered.

“Yeah.” I echoed. “Shit.”

He didn’t asked why I didn’t tell Bruce. Or Anyone. He didn’t ask why it was so important to me to do this by myself. All he did was take in the information and start putting it together.

“Jesus- you could’ve died. But all that Hoffman stuff. Why you?”

“Exactly!” I breathed.

Another knock on the door, and Alfred’s voice carried through, telling me it was time to go. I got up. Tim nodded and followed suit, no doubt carrying my every last recounting in his piggy-bank memory.

“Please don’t tell Bruce.” I said, some amount of fear slipping into my voice. “I know it was a stupid thing to do and it was stupid not to tell anyone. But he’ll never trust me again.” Tim hesitated at the door.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

I climbed into the backseat of the car, and stared at the cityscape running past the windows. The anxiety had lifted. One of my growing number of secrets revealed. In its wake, the sudden absence left a sense of clarity. I remembered why I had kept it to begin with.

Dick was gifted. The first. The talented boy who could fly. Babs and Tim were brilliant; genius far beyond the confines of academia. Damian was skilled. Trained from birth, the blood son. It nestled here him neatly, right where he belonged. What was I? I wasn’t born with athletic ability beyond my years, or genius intellect. Without that information- without my secrets- I had nothing else to give.

*

Thursday night was dinner. The whole family. It was Bruce’s excuse to drag Dick out of his apartment in Blüdhaven, and for Alfred to exercise a new recipe, since everyone was on a strict lean-means and superfoods regimen every other waking day. Babs attended occasionally, when work didn’t keep her busy, and Tim was only allowed to pass if he promised to rest instead.

I met his eyes as everyone was rounded into the dining room by Alfred like a herd of sheep; he gave me some imperceptible knowing look that promised to keep my secret.

We sat down and sipped water from crystal glasses as the table was set with food, muttering amongst ourselves about our days. Dick was given a coffee with the wrong name (‘Nick’), Babs met up with her friend from high school (Olivia something or other), and Damian completed a group project with some incompetent classmates (they all were- even the professors). Vigilante talk wasn’t forbidden, but generally skirted around so as to offer a small reprieve of normalcy during the week.

There was an exception to this unspoken rule when there was a particularly exciting case on the table. Unfortunately for me and my anxiety, the case of the Red Hood was a very exciting one.

“Any new breaks with Red Hood?” Dick asked through miso soup. Bruce sighed.

“He made some movements in Robbinsville. Gone before we could get there. He’s got his men on a tight leash- we couldn’t get any of them to talk.”

“Course not. There’s rumors flying all over the department. One of the Ioveanu family branches payed out a huge security detail for their private mansion.”

“He hasn’t hunted anyone in their home, has he?” I asked. I pictured him standing in front of me- maskless, in my academy uniform.

“No, it’s not his MO.” Barbara answered.

“Not yet. It’s only been six months, and he’s progressing rapidly.” Bruce diagnosed grimly.

“Are you scared he’s gonna join us for dinner?” Dick joked, throwing a wink my way.

“Haha.” I muttered. Actually, I hadn’t slept because of the very idea.

“If you’re nervous, you could always stay home next patrol.” Damian suggested pointedly. To him, existing in the realm of crimefighting was a competition, and he was always looking for others to drop out of the race. I resisted the urge to fling a pea at him.

“I’m not nervous.” I said coolly.

“You’ve been practically trembling since we fought his pathetic lackeys.”

“Damian.” Bruce warned, from the head of the table. I flipped the smallest Wayne the middle finger. He resigned, but I swore I saw amusement on his lips.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Red Hood is very skilled and very prolific. It’s a daunting case.” Bruce continued.

“Thanks, but I’m okay. Really.” I said, trying not to sound annoyed, and feeling like a spotlight was over my head, operated by the ghost of Hoffman. I almost laughed as I pictured it.

“That’s good to hear. We’ve been concerned.” Alfred added.

“Wow. I’m the star of the show around here.” I remarked dryly.

“We can’t help it, Miss Independent.” Dick said teasingly. “You’re just a good mystery.”

“Reminds me of Talia.” Tim said casually. The silverware stopped clanging.

It was a shameless subject change. Damian’s mother was an inflammatory topic for all parties. Bruce’s moral contempt didn’t reach the likes of Talia Al Ghul and Selena Kyle, immoral though they were. Beauty makes anything charming- and when paired with an impeccable taste in dress, even murder and thievery can be minimized into something of a quirk. Bruce thought so, anyway.

As for Damian, he had grappled with his dismissal from Talia’s side for what was now a majority of his life, and still possessed this deep-rooted, inextinguishable attachment to his mother. It was the hollow soreness any young boy would have in his position. Tim called him mama’s boy until he finally displayed a frightening amount of disdain for the title and actually begged him to stop. Tim agreed to, and I agreed to pretend I never heard a thing.

Dick disagreed with both of those sentiments and viewed Talia as someone who wasn’t worth the trouble. His dismissal embarrassed Bruce and offended Damian, so I knew the dinner table had been sufficiently turned into a powder keg. Tim and I shared a look as I expressed silent gratefulness, and he resigned to inspecting a dumpling, while I picked around my haka noodles.

The rest of dinner was quiet. Somehow, somewhere in the silence all had been decidedly forgiven. First by Babs who asked me to pass the pepper. Then by Dick who said the vegetables were good. Thank you, Alfred. Damian still looked pissed, and Bruce kept stealing glances at the clock.

I texted Tim under the table.

Thanks for taking one for the team.

The reply: You owe me one. I think Damian’s gonna poison my food.

We both glanced at the youngest, who was darkly mesmerized by what appeared to be Tim’s soup bowl.

He quickly added, Wait, actually tho? And we both fought laughter like two kids in the back of the class. It felt good to have an ally. Even if he still didn’t know the whole truth.

[shlabam]

TOP TEN COMICS BOOK VILLAINS WE PROBABLY WON’T SEE IN THE MOVIES

Superhero media is the hottest thing going right now. It was true ten years ago when the MCU was in its adolescence, and it’s even truer now. Even with film production on lockdown, Marvel and DC are still planning on literally dozens of their characters entering their respective cinematic universes. However, for the fans of the source material, things can be contentious. For every memorable Tony Stark quip, there’s Superman destroying an entire city because he’s, frankly, kind of dumb now. A major point of contention is how the various popular villains are utilized. Making an intimidating and potent villain in a comic book is very different than in a film. In comics, you have months to establish motive, powers, and backstory before the villain even makes their first move. In films, that all has to be compressed and spilled out in the scarce few minutes when Captain America and Bucky aren’t making bambi eyes at each other. To be concise, some villains adapt perfectly, and some, no matter how good they are in the comics, just don’t. And to be clear, this list is of popular villains who have the possibility of appearing in a big-budget film, so no, you won’t be seeing Ten Eyed Man or Big Wheel in there. Their powers are, respectively, having ten eyes, and being very good in business. (That’s a lie, he’s just a huge wheel who chases Spider-Man.)

10: Mr. Mxyzptlk:

Cool, let’s get this one out of the way. Despite being one of Superman’s oldest, longest-lasting, and most popular enemies from all the way back in the Golden Age, there’s no way in hell he will be in a movie. For the uninformed. Mr. Mxyzptlk is a 5th dimensional wizard-genie who appears every ninety days to torment Superman with his reality-altering antics, and can only be sent back to his home dimension if Superman tricks him into saying his own name backwards. Yes, it would be very dazzling, as Mr. Mxyzptlk’s powers in a movie would basically look like if Christopher Nolan directed Who Framed Roger Rabbit, but he’s a little too silly to fit in with the current “everything is gloomy and also a bummer” tone of the Superman films. This silly tone has lent itself perfectly to the Supergirl series, where he’s made a handful of appearances. Besides, if we get Mxyzptlk in a Superman movie before Brainiac, I’ll lose my entire freaking mind.

9: Hobgoblin:

There have been eight Spider-Man movies so far, and of those eight, four of them have, in some capacity, featured the Green Goblin. And that makes sense, right? The Green Goblin is easily Spider-Man’s most memorable and reoccurring nemesis, with Doctor Octopus and Venom close behind, and Peter Parker’s link with Norman and Harry Osbourn makes their tragic story perfect for film adaptation. On the other hand, we have the Hobgoblin, who is essentially Green Goblin with all the gimmicks, none of the Parker-adjacent backstory, and an orange and blue color scheme, likely tying him to the Denver Broncos [citation needed]. Still, in those four cinematic attempts at tackling the Goblin, none of them have quite gotten him right, and I can’t imagine this character, who is, even in canon, an intentional Green Goblin rip-off, would fare any better.

8: Starro:

Brave and the Bold #28 from 1960 featured the first story with the Justice League, and this story put them up against a very unique new villain: Starro the Conqueror, a giant telepathic starfish who can release tiny versions of himself. If these tiny starfish latch onto your head, you’re under his control and obey his commands. The Justice League have battled him fairly regularly over the last fifty years, and he’s a distinct and powerful enemy that the fans generally appreciate, leading to him being referenced occasionally in Smallville, Arrow, and Flash. Why won’t he ever be in a movie? Because if you’re a Hollywood producer, you stopped paying attention at “giant telepathic starfish”. Sorry. Maybe Shuma-Gorath will pop up in the next Doctor Strange movie, and he’ll set off a Twilight-esque wave of starfish monster movies! Then again, almost absolutely not.

7: Puppet Master:

Speaking of mind control, what’s scarier than that? For my money, nothing. Having your body and will taken away from you by an unseen force is a terror greater than death. How could you possibly make a villain based around such a chilling concept and have him not be scary? Well, maybe if it’s an old bald man in an apron playing with dolls. The Puppet Master is an ongoing threat for the Fantastic Four who is just that: he makes models of his foes out of radioactive clay, and makes them punch themselves and dance around and kiss each other, because he’s, y’know, a weird old man. Why is he such a consistent threat who hasn’t fallen into obscurity like other dumb gimmick-based villains? His stepdaughter, Alicia Masters, is the Thing’s longtime girlfriend. As long as she keeps appearing in movies (including being played by… Kerry Washington? That can’t be right), there’s always a chance he’ll pop up, but I don’t think any movie studio is that stupid, despite the quality of every Fantastic Four movie blatantly defying that prediction.

6: Bizarro:

Superman has always suffered in the villains department. When you’re essentially a god, what can they throw at you? As it turns out, Lex Luthor, almost always. But why not another Superman? Bizarro is essentially that, an imperfect clone of Superman who speaks in opposite speak - “Bizarro am good! Me not punch you until you live!” - and features the same abilities as the Man of Steel. Sounds great, right? Putting a hero against a villain with their same powers has worked for nearly every Marvel movie (shots fired). So why won’t we see him grace our silver screens any time soon? Because they’ve never really figured him out. Is he funny? Is he lethal? Does Kryptonite work on him? If he does everything the opposite of Superman, why does he wear clothes? Isn’t being naked the opposite of being clothed? Bizarro is a major Superman side-character and has made appearances in Smallville and Supergirl, but the idea of him being the Big Bad going toe-to-toe with Henry Cavill doesn’t sound like it would generate a lot of views.

5: Impossible Man:

You remember what I said about Mr. Mxyzptlk? Remember? So take that bit, but everywhere I say Superman, have it say Fantastic Four instead… yeah, that should do it.

4: The Wrecking Crew:

Thor has a unique quirk of having a very cinematic rogues gallery. Sure, most of the movies have pitted him against Loki, but if they were to run him up against the Enchantress, or the Absorbing Man, or Ulik the Troll, or Kurse, or even the Stone Men from Saturn, that’s not a bad movie! However, in one of the attempts to give Thor more of a mortal nemesis, they put him up against the Wrecker, who has an… enchanted… indestructible… crowbar. Yeah. Incredibly, the Wrecker and his Wrecking Crew have become very present characters throughout the Marvel Universe, essentially serving as “jobbers”, being rolled out to get beaten up by the new top hero or villain, but that may not work in a movie, where villains have to be seen as having some level of potency before being struck down. That means we’d need at least a short scene where it seems like Thor might lose to a guy whose power is “crowbar”, and that’s about as likely as an Edward Norton cameo in the next Avengers. Ho boy, they did NOT part on good terms!

3: Clayface:

When the movie-going public goes to see a Batman movie, they generally want something a bit more grounded than your typical superhero fare. After all, Batman has no powers, and therefore the most supernatural thing that should happen in these movies is a gas that makes you smile, or a different gas that makes you think your dead parents are back and disappointed in you. Might wanna put a mouth covering on that mask, Bruce! The one and only they’ve made a movie where Batman fights people with real, off-the-wall super powers (Batman and Robin), it did not go great. And those guys pale in comparison to Clayface, who is, yes, made of clay. In the comics and cartoons, Clayface looks awesome, turning his limbs into weapons and being very challenging to incapacitate, but in a live-action, realistic Batman adventure, we wouldn’t want to see the Dark Knight fight a poop-colored version of the T-1000, especially if it’s got the same chemical composition of a little dreidel that I made.

2: Red Hood:

A relative newcomer to the Batman universe, Red Hood is the revived body of Jason Todd, the second Robin, who was brutally killed by the Joker in one of the most controversial storylines DC Comics ever produced. Literally, fans called a 900 number to tell the writers to kill him off. A 900 number. That’s how much they hated the little turd. Anyway, Jason Todd, whom Batman and the rest of the world believed was dead, was revived by Ra’s al Ghul and became a ruthless villain. Since then, he’s gravitated more to the side of the hero, though one a bit more willing to spill blood than his mentors. Why won’t we see him in the darker, edgier Batman films? Because… that’s Bucky. It’s the same thing that happened in Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Teen sidekick killed in controversial manner, revived by super villain to be a thorn in said hero’s side, later changes his mind and becomes a good guy again, though with enough PTSD to fill a PTSD super store. The two storylines even occurred in the comics in the same year, 2005, to much fanfare and across-the-board declarations of one company ripping off the other, reminding the world of the great Aquaman-Namor debates of the 1940s. Considering that DC’s films have criminally underperformed compared to Marvel’s, the last thing they want to do is be accused of lazy plagiarism, so Jason Todd will likely remain a permanent fixture in the afterlife, hanging out with Batman’s parents and, at the rate that people are coming back from the dead, literally no one else. (Plus, if they can’t even get Robin right, how are they gonna do this?)

1: Mister Sinister:

Yes, he was teased at the end of X-Men Apocalypse, but ignoring that the film underperformed both critically and commercially, Mister Sinister is never going to be in a movie. It would make sense for him to appear, though, right? He’s one of the most present and potent X-Men villains, he’s played crucial roles in many memorable storylines, he’s got a sick cape, but… something a lot of comic book fans tend to overlook is his murky backstory, powers, and motivations. He was a biologist in Victorian London who did genetic experiments on homeless people in the hopes of finding clues about the oncoming threat of mutants. In this time, he unearthed the long-dormant En Sabah Nur, whom you plebeians may know as Apocalypse, and Apocalypse gifted him with great abilities. What abilities you ask? HA HA, good question! At various times, Sinister has displayed: telepathy, telekinesis, energy projection, shape-shifting, regeneration, and teleportation, but these powers will mysteriously disappear whenever they want him to get sliced up real good by Wolverine. Additionally, it has never been made very clear what Sinister wants. Does he seek perfect mastery of the human genome? Does he live to torment Cyclops? Is he a blind follower of Apocalypse? Is he just running through all the different kinds of goatee? Of course, in adaptation, the writers would pick and choose the aspects they’d want to use, but I doubt they’d want to untangle the Christmas lights mess that is Mister Sinister, especially when they’ve got a perfectly good villain whose power is just “magnets”.

[wordsfromthesol]

I’m No One’s Princess (3/3)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary:  You catch Dick’s eye at one of the infamous Wayne Galas, things took a turn and now he needs to find you. Warnings: The usuals aka language, violence, fluffy fluff, etc.  Word Count: 4.0k A/N: Sorry not sorry I got a little carried away with this part but there was no good point to split it up. 

Part One  Part Two

Dick turned towards Jason, “How many?”

“I counted five patrolling around the warehouse. Seems like a small team, just set up to wait for someone to pick her up. They definitely aren’t expecting anyone.”

“Have you seen her?”

“No, no one has come in or out. There’s two door entrances. I’m betting one leads to the office where she’s being held.”

“We go in through the roof. Too many unknowns going in through the doors.”

“Not if you just start shooting…”

Dick glared at his brother.

“Why do we care about this girl again?” Damian snarled.

“Because she’s an innocent, Damian.” Dick tried to reason with his youngest brother.

“We do not know this. She is the daughter of a hitman.”

“Ever heard of innocent until proven guilty?”

Damian rolled his eyes but proceeded to follow his brothers anyways.

**

Ignoring the spots in your vision, you tried to move your hands, to at least allow you to push yourself to the side. That was when an immense pain filled your arm. Great, my wrist is broken. You added another injury to the list. Injuries due to your father, your father that would and has sold you out for less than a piece of bread. The worst part was, you couldn’t even sell him out if you wanted to. You had no idea where that criminal was.

You began to hear sounds of fighting in the other room and soon you swore you heard your name. As you opened your mouth to speak, all that came out was blood. You glanced around for some way to make noise. You sucked in a breath and thrust you hips into the air, forcing the chair to move with them. The metal chair came down and clashed with the concrete. You felt the cost of your decision lingering on your already injured wrist. About to brave the risk yet again, you heard the door swing open.

“Y/N?!” You watched as Nightwing slid by your side, examining your current state. You didn’t try to respond. “Guys, she’s in here! I need an ambulance!” Your eyes widened at his words as you violently shook your head. “Y/N, look at you, you need to be in a hospital.”

“N..no.” You were able to stutter out. Nightwing hoisted the chair upright and began to cut the zip-ties. You felt a twinge of relief in your chest, now that gravity was there to help keep the blood down. “He’ll find…me. No…hospital.” He looked to the other vigilantes crowded in the room.

“Just take her back to the cave.” Red Hood waved his hand, as if that were the obvious solution. Red Robin nodded in agreement, but the youngest one just stared at you.

“Just take me…home.”

“There is no way I’m taking you home like this.”

“I’m tired…tired of masked – they always…hurt. Home. Please.” The spots in your vision were getting worse since you stood, but you refused to let them see you give into the pain. Nightwing ran his hand through his hair.

“Alright. Home. Where is that?”

Your blinking had become more animated as you tried to fake normalcy. Wait, what did he just ask me? You shifted your eyes side to side. “Home.” You began to walk towards the door, though it was less of a walk and more of a swayed stagger. Your mind didn’t even register the three men very clearly in the way of the door, and you ran directly into Red Robin. The small bump caused you to stumble backwards. Thankfully, Nightwing was close on your heels and caught you before you hit the ground.

“I’ll meet you guys, tell Alfred to get the medical equipment ready.” Nightwing picked you up as he headed for the car.

**

“Alfred?” Tim radioed from his bike.

“Master Timothy. I did not realize you were out tonight.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be. Something came up. We’re coming in hot.”

“Who is injured?”

“A girl, stab wound to the left leg, broken right wrist, broken ribs, concussion.”

“My, something did come up. I will prepare the medical equipment.”

**

Waking up, you looked around and noticed you were not home. You let out a deep sigh as you examined your patched-up wounds, grimacing as you noticed the cast on your wrist. You sighed again before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. I’m tired of the masks. I’m tired of the running. I didn’t sign up for this, just because my last name is Y/L/N. Pushing yourself up, you limped around the room looking for some kind of door. Where the fuck am I? Finally, you noticed a staircase. Of course it’s stairs. You looked down at your bandaged leg and prepared yourself for the pain. As you stepped up the first one, you heard someone behind you.

“Planning on going somewhere?” You turned around and saw Red Robin minus the mask, plus dark circles underneath his eyes. Not bothering to offer an explanation, you slowly lifted your leg to the next stair. “I think Nightwing may kill me if I let you leave.” You felt his hand grasp your arm.

“And how are you going to stop me exactly?’

“I’d like to think I can just reason with you.” You let out a sigh and turned around, leaning against the railing and motioning him to begin. “Well, Maroni is going to be pissed his boys lost you. Double, triple his efforts. Whatever information you have, he wants. You are safest here, recovering. Your house is the first place they will look.”

You stared blankly towards him, you should’ve known that. How could you have been so careless? “Fine. But I need clothes.” He nodded, and helped you back to the hospital bed, before heading up the same stairs himself. The young vigilante did not return, but an older one did, carrying clothes. “Nightwing?”

“The one and only, how are you?”

“Well, clearly…” you gestured around the room, “I’m doing fabulous. Though I’m not at home.”

“In my defense, you didn’t tell me where that was.”

“You found me, I think you could’ve found my address.”

“Wouldn’t be safe,” he shrugged, “plus I don’t know what medical supplies you have. And I’m going to doubt it includes plaster.” Nodding towards your encased wrist. Rolling your eyes, you held your hand out for the clothes.

“I’m so not sleeping on this, don’t you vigilantes have places that aren’t dark and creepy? And have less masks?”

Nightwing ran his hand through his hair. “I think I can find something…put those on and we’ll go.”

**

“Much less dark, though there is still some weirdo in a mask hanging around.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” Nightwing hopped over the couch and proceeded to turn on the tv.

“Wait, you’re staying here?”

“Well, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Why do you even care?!” You were growing more and more frustrated with the situation you had been thrust in.

“Just trying to help, calm down there princess.”

That name, why did he have to use that name? “Don’t you dare call me that!” Tears escaped from your eyes before you had a chance to stop them. You sunk to the floor, shaking. Nightwing quickly realized his mistake and was at your side in seconds.

“Hey hey, calm down. I’m sorry. I just…I saw you, at the gala. And when they took you, well I couldn’t do nothing…and not just because I’m Nightwing.”

You looked up at him, tears still looming in your eyes, “You were at the gala?”

“Yeah, more importantly though…why were you?”

“I was…looking for someone.”

“Who?” You didn’t want his judgement, so you said nothing. Dick sighed at the lack of response but didn’t press you further. “Why does Maroni want you?”

“Who knows.”

“Y/N, you gotta give me something to work with here.”

“I really don’t know. I was…I was at the gala to try and figure out. My name was beginning to pop up more than usually on the –” you stopped yourself, you were talking to one of the ‘good guys’ after all. Dick threw his hands in the air.

“For Christ’s sake Y/N, I’m not going to judge you. Just let me help you dammit.”

“Alright, calm down bird boy. My name was circling around the dark web, more than it should be. I was worried my father did something stupid again. I always seem to pay the price for him…”

“I know he’s your dad…but why protect him?”

“Protect him?!” A laugh escaped your lips. “God, I wouldn’t protect that monster. I just don’t actually know what he’s doing. Anytime I do see him…well it’s usually because he’s bargaining my life for his.” You looked down and mumbled, “To either side. Masked vigilantes, masked criminals? They all see me as one thing, I’ve got the scars to prove it.”

“I don’t.” Nightwing reached up and pulled off his mask. “I don’t see you only as his daughter.”

A small smile formed on your lips as the familiar face looked back at you, “I wish I wasn’t. I was looking for him at the gala.” A look of shock donned Dick’s face. “His next target was there.” You offered the information as an explanation.

“Do you know who it was?”

“…Dominic Nero.”

“And you didn’t warn him? Or try to stop your dad?” Now you could see Dick getting mad, you could see his image of you falter, change into the one everyone else saw. Henryk Y/L/N’s daughter. You rose from the floor, making your way to the bedroom, and saying nothing.

Dick tried to rectify himself, “Y/N I didn’t –” The words were too late, as you shut the door inches from his face and crawled into the bed. Your mind was filled with nightmares, both of memories and of what is yet to come.

**

You woke in the middle of the night in tremendous pain. Carefully, you rolled off the bed and made your way to bathroom in search of painkillers. Traipsing back into the bedroom you saw a figure in the corner of the room. You saw it, but it didn’t quite register in your mind, which only created more problems.

“What? Not even going to acknowledge your dear old dad?”

Your face contorted with confusion at the words. “Henyrk?”

“Come on princess, let’s get you out of here.”

This wasn’t right… You bolted for the bedroom door, but with your injuries, your father easily stopped you.

“Man, those boys really did a number on you. I told them not to hurt you.”

“I’m sure. I knew they were yours. Your little test failed. If I did know where you were, I would’ve given you up in a heartbeat. DICK –” Your father’s hand quickly went up to cover your mouth. Thankfully, not fast enough, and he knew it.

“He can’t protect you forever.” Henyrk turned and jumped through the window as Dick threw open the door and saw you on the floor grasping your knees to your chest.

“Y/N…” Dick surveyed the room and noticed the open window, “what happened?”

“He found me. I knew he would find me. Why would I try to go after him? I should’ve run.” You violently shook your head. “I knew I should’ve run.”

Dick sat beside you, “If he found you here, running wouldn’t have done you any good.”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know.” Dick pulled you into his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Once you had fallen asleep, Dick placed you back in the bed and called his brother.

“Tim? I need everything you have on Henyrk Y/L/N. And I need you to round up Jason and Damian and be at safe house delta for a briefing. We need to end this.”

“We’ll be there at the end of the hour.”

**

You woke up to multiple voices in the living room. Looking around, you began to wonder if you dreamed the encounter with your father. I mean how would he have found he here in the first place? You sat up and looked around the room, searching for any signs of a break-in. There were none. Slowly, you got up and headed out of the room. Your eyes were met by four other pairs. Most of them gave you looks of sympathy, save for the youngest who looked at you with resentment and disgust.

“Was there a party invitation I missed?” Your words came out slightly hoarse and much less confident than you hoped.

“I was sharing the information I gathered about your father.” You recognized the boy who spoke, it was the same one who stopped you from leaving the vigilante headquarters the day before.

You let out a chuckle, “Well this will be interesting. Mind if I sit in on this meeting?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good –” Dick began, but Jason soon cut him off.

“She might have some useful information.”

“That is unlikely.” The youngest boy scoffed.

“I can tell you it looks like he’s building his own army against Maroni. Whatever shit he pulled…” your words trailed off.

“Why do you think building his own legion means he did something?” Dick questioned.

“Because I know my father. He hates working with people. And there’s one last effort move he always makes when he’s in trouble. It hasn’t failed yet.” You pushed down the horrific memories that started to stir in your mind. “For him to skip that…and go straight to amassing an army…it’s bad.”

“How do you know he skipped it?” Jason looked at you quizzically, wondering what this move was.

“Because it’s me…he trades me.”

“How do you know he didn’t? The men that grabbed you…”

“Were his,” Tim had already pieced the puzzle together and answered Jason. “Weren’t they?” He turned towards you, you nodded in confirmation.

To your surprise, the youngest boy’s face twisted as more information surfaced. “Your father let his men injure you in this way?”

“I think I found out why Maroni is after him.” Tim interjected as all eyes turned to him. “He killed Maroni’s sons.”

“I thought Holiday –” Jason started.

“We all thought it was Holiday. How did we not see this before?” Dick looked to his brother.

“Something one of the men said when we got Y/N back, about how his boss wanted the princess. And then Dick told me your reaction to the name. It had to be your father’s name for you. I started looking at all your father’s connections and there was a bystander testimony claiming they heard the killer arguing about a princess.”

“Why would he have been talking about me to the Maroni brothers?”

“That is a question only he can answer.”

You nodded, “So then boys, what’s the plan?”

“You’re going back to the Manor. It’s safer.” Dick’s tone seemed almost angry.

“The Manor? Is that the dark and creepy place I was before? Because no thanks. I don’t want to deal with any more masked people. I’ve been given enough from them as it is.”

“You know we are the good masked people, right?” Jason soon corrected his statement, “Well they are, I’m more of a neutral party.”

“I’ve never known a good person in a mask.” You watched Dick’s face twist with disappointment, just to dig the knife in further, you continued. “I have the scars to prove it.” You lifted your shirt and pointed to the mangled flesh. “That’s from an arrow from your ‘hero’ Green Arrow. Oh and we have this piece from the Wondergirl.” You pointed to a circular mark burned around your ankle. You were hoping that was enough to push them away from you. Unfortunately, it wasn’t, as you turned to go back to the bedroom Dick called out.

“Don’t think that’s going to make us give up on you. You deserve to be free from your father.”

You didn’t turn back to face him, so you didn’t see all his brothers (even Damian) nod in agreement.

A few hours later you walked out of the room and saw Tim sitting at the dining room table, his faced glued to a computer.

“How did you get stuck babysitting?”

“Dick thought I would be most convincing to get you back to the Manor. I believe I have located your father. They went back to gear up now.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t think that’s a smart idea. You’re already injured.”

“Yeah well, what’s the harm then?”

“You could slow us down and get someone else hurt?”

You huffed in annoyance. Why did this little brat have to actually make a point? “Fine.” You grumbled out, “take me to the damn Manor. Then join your brothers so they don’t all get themselves killed.”

“You knew?”

“I’m not stupid. Just like I know your dad is Bruce Wayne, which makes him Batman. Where is he anyways?”

“Helping the Justice League. Let’s go.”

**

All the vigilantes stared at you as you walked into the room. Finally, Dick made his way over to you.

“You know you’re not going, right?”

“I know. But I also knew it was pointless arguing with Tim, especially when he was right.”

“I still have to admit, I’m surprised you came here.”

“Yeah, well, my dear old dad already knew the location of that safe house. Didn’t have too many other options.” Just then Tim walked in, geared up. “Now you all go before my dad decides to move.”

“Alright…” Dick turned around reluctantly. He knew something wasn’t right. If only he really knew. You waited a few minutes and then set out yourself, you couldn’t afford to stay too long, less you wanted your father to know who the vigilantes really were. You planned to set up shop near your father’s hideout, not only to lure him out, but also so the bird boys were nearby if you needed them.

**

Dick watched as you took one of their bikes out. I fucking knew it. He radioed his brothers.

“Yeah, I was right, she just left. I’m going to follow. Don’t move on Henyrk just yet.”

He followed you to an abandoned convenience store just across the street from the supposed location of your father.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like she’s moving. Just staying across the street. Been standing in the middle of the room for nearly five minutes now.”

“I wager she’s waiting for her father.” Tim explained.

“How would he know where she is?”

“I’ve been thinking about how he knew where the safe house was. You brought her from the Manor, there’s no way he followed her. And he knew she was at the gala…I think he’s got a tracker on her.”

“Shit. How could I not have seen that?”

“Perhaps you were too distracted, Nightwing.”

“Can it, Robin. Do you see any movement?”

“People are gearing up. I’m sending the demon spawn your way. The replacement here can stay with me and follow him.”

**

It only took about ten minutes for your father to saunter in through the door.

“So where is it?” There was a chill to your words.

“Oh my dearest princess…”

“Just tell me. I can’t be your bargaining ship for this anyways.”

“I don’t know, a daughter for a son. Seems like an even trade.”

“But you killed two.”

“Hm, I did didn’t I?”

“Why couldn’t you have just left me out of this? I didn’t want to be in your world!”

“But you’ve always wanted to help people.”

“Never you.”

“Come now, princess. It’s time to go home.”

“I’m not YOUR PRINCESS and you have never been my HOME.” You pulled a pistol from your waistband. “Just leave me alone, or I will kill you.”

“I doubt my sweet little princess could even use that. Nonetheless kill her father, her king.”

You let out a disgusted laugh. “Oh, the tracker didn’t tell you all those days I spent at the range? Or how about all those hours I was locked up paying your debts? How do you think I got out? By asking nicely?” You lowered the gun and shot centimeters away from his foot. “Next time, you may lose a toe…or maybe I’ll just go straight for your crown.” You raised the gun back to his head.

“I don’t think my boys here would like that very much. Especially Ethan, I hear you gave him this lovely wound.”

“Yeah and a broken nose. Plus, I don’t think MY boys would like you threatening me very much.”

“Princess, look around. You’re alone.”

“If you’re willing to take that risk.”

Your father scoffed and as he motioned for the men at his sides to grab you, you shot directly through his raised hand.

“Remember, I warned you!” You screamed back at him as you ran into the shadows. Feeling hands grab you from behind and spin you around, you let out a small sigh of relief. “I almost thought I was hallucinating you following me.” You whispered at the black and blue clad figure.

“You shot him.”

“I didn’t kill him. Now can we get out of here. I got what I needed.”

“But you didn’t get anything.”

You gave him a smirk as you headed for the doorway. “Tell your brothers to get out.”

“We can’t let him go free.”

“Man, you gotta work on that trust thing…Nightwing. I don’t want to tell this story twice, so to your little cave and I’ll explain everything. I’m also going to need a ride.”

“What about the bike you stole?”

“Someone’s going to have to pick that up.”

Dick eyed you curiously but led you bike to his anyways. He then watched in shock as you pulled out a knife, using your broken wrist to cut into your forearm. You smiled as you pulled the tracker from the flesh and threw in to the ground.

“We could’ve done that way cleaner at the Batcave.”

“Didn’t want to take any chances…or have him that close to me any longer.”

**

“Alright Y/L/N, your wounds have been tended to. Enlighten us.”

“So impatient Damian. Well I knew the only way he could’ve found me in that safe house was a tracker. So I needed to get out of the…what did you call it? Batcave?” You looked at Dick as he nodded in confirmation, “as soon as possible so the asshole didn’t come here. I knew he would be checking up on me after Dick interrupted our conversation last night. So I went to him, that way you guys would be close by. I was surprised Dick followed me though.”

“I’d like to think I’ve gotten to know you a little after these past few days.”

“So why didn’t you kill the bastard then?” Jason piped up.

“Well, believe me I wanted to, but I just don’t know if I could cross that line.”

“What about that tale you spun to your father then?”

“It was true, Jason, I never said I killed anyone. Just that I was very good at wielding a gun.”

“So, what plan did you have, why did we let him go?” Tim grew impatient, as he worked hard building the file against Henryk.

“Well, I may have sent your file over to GCPD, Tim. And I may have recorded his confession that he killed the Maroni boys. And I may have had GCPD take down his headquarters while I was chatting with him. He walked right back into an ambush.”

“We could have just taken him in ya’know.” Dick looked at you, confused as to why you went the extra steps.

“Didn’t want him holding more of a grudge against you lot…plus I’m still not a fan of the masks.”

“And yet you donned this intricate one when we met.” He walked over and pulled the mask from the drawer.

“You kept it?”

“Alright! I’m out.” Jason turned to leave immediately acknowledging where the conversation was headed, his brothers hot on his heels.

“…”

“I suppose they do have their purposes.” You reluctantly answered his question as he made his way over to you. Gently he tied the mask around your head. “Well, does it fit?”

“Perfectly.”

[imaginingmarvelandeverything]

Missing Lifeguards

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for season 3

Word Count: 2241

A/N: So, here is part 14 of Nightmares and Bruises. The taglist is open so drop me an ask or a comment! I won’t reply to comments because this is a side blog but know that I see and read them all.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Y/N hardly slept. She spent half the night tossing and turning and then when she finally drifted off, her nightmares came back with renewed force. In them, she was running from a monster that she couldn’t see. It sounded like the Demogorgon but she could tell from its thundering steps that it was much bigger. But each time it got close it would disappear and she would find her self stood in front of the community swimming pool. The water was stained red and there was a body floating face down in the water. The blood was so dark around the body that she couldn’t tell who it was. She would move closer to the pool, intending to get a better look and that would be when she saw him. 

Billy was standing on the opposite side of the pool. His hair was wet, the dark strands hanging in front of his eyes. He was in a white shirt and his red lifeguard shorts. Well she assumed the shirt had once been white. Crimson streaks ran down both of his arms, staining his shirt before dropping from his finger tips onto the floor below. His eyes snapped up and met hers. They were wild but also terrified. She found herself taking steps backwards, away from the edge of the pool.

“Y/N. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.” Billy’s voice cut through the silence as he pleaded with her.

It was when she neared the entrance to the locker rooms that she heard the monster again. She didn’t have time to turn and look at it before it grabbed her.

That was when she woke up. She must have had the same dream at least five times throughout the night. Each time she woke up in a cold sweat she wished Billy was there with her so she could just bury herself into him and push the images out of her mind. Instead she was met with empty sheets and the stifling hot heat that was yet to give way. It looked as if there was going to be a storm today though so it might provide some relief.

At seven o’clock she gave up trying to sleep and swung her legs out of bed. Her arm was still throbbing away and her whole body had gained a dull ache. She stumbled into the bathroom and groaned at the sight of herself in the mirror. There were dark circles under her eyes and, while the gash on her forehead was healing, it was now surrounded by a purple bruise. At least part of it was hidden by her hair. She swallowed some painkillers before deciding that a shower was probably the best way to wake her up and get her ready for the day.

After awkwardly cleaning herself off with one arm, she walked downstairs and pulled some cereal out of the cupboard. While she ate, she made a mental list of the things she needed to do. The priority was finding Billy. Not knowing where he was, or if he was safe, was putting her on edge in a way she hadn’t been since before Christmas. The fear in his eyes when she had woken up in the car scared her and she needed to know what he saw, and where they crashed. That was one detail still eluding her that she felt was going to be important. Whatever was happening had most likely started where ever it was. When she knew she could find Hopper and explain everything both to him and then to Billy.

As she grabbed her car keys and walked out of the house, she had a feeling that it was going to be another long, exhausting day.

_______________________________________________________

Billy’s house had once again been a dead end. No one answered the door when she rang the bell and the Camaro was still missing from the drive. She vaguely remembered Billy saying something about Neil and Susan getting away for the weekend. The weather was beginning to change as she pulled out of Billy’s road. By the time Y/N pulled into the swimming pool’s parking lot, the heavens had opened. The rain battered down on the roof of the car as lightning strikes illuminated people running from the pool to their cars.  

Y/N struggled to pull her coat over her cast before zipping it up and pulling the hood up. She braced herself before opening the car door and stepping out into the rain. It beat against her bare legs and her trainers were soaked before she even had chance to lock the car. More water splashed up her legs where her feet connected with puddles as she ran past the vacating families into the main entrance. She pulled her coat off, the material clinging to the cast and restricting her movement. Billy’s manager and one of the other guards didn’t even look up from the magazines they were reading behind the front desk. She was about to walk up to them when she caught sight of a familiar head of red hair disappearing into the women’s locker room.

“You do realise that the pool is shut, don’t you?” Y/N’s voice rang through the empty room and caused both Max and El to jump.

“What happened to you?” Max’s eyes drifted from the damage to Y/N’s head to the wrist cast.

“Me and Billy got into a car crash.” Y/N caught sight of the photo in El’s hand. “Do you know where he is? I can’t find him anywhere.”

Max and El shared a look that Y/N didn’t like one bit.

“I found him last night.” El said.

“We were playing a stupid game where we spun the bottle to see who we could find.” Max quickly added to make sure it didn’t sound like they were stalking her brother.

“He was with Heather. She was screaming. We found her bag in the bathroom at Max’s. It was covered in blood.” El finished.

Y/N’s voice caught in her throat. “C-can you find them, now?”

“That’s the plan.” Max said.

“Okay. What do you need?” Y/N and Max turned to El.

Max went and turned on all of the showers to create the white noise El needed as Y/N ran back to her car. She grabbed the roll of Duct tape from the boot before carefully stealing one of the dive masks from the equipment room. She helped El cover the mask in the tape as Max walked back in. Y/N and Max perched on the wooden benches as El sat cross legged on the floor, the photo of Heather in front of her.

“What do you see?” Max asked.

“A door. A red door.” El murmured.

All of a sudden El’s breathing started to increase and she tore the mask off.

“What happened? El?” Y/N moved so she was kneeling in front of the younger girl. “It’s okay, breathe.”

Max shot Y/N a worried look as El buried her face in her hands.

_______________________________________________

“Is this it?” Y/N asked as she pulled the car up in front of the house.

“Yes.” El’s eyes were trained on the red front door.

After they had managed her to calm down, El had told them that she had seen Heather screaming for help. They managed to drop one of the Mustang’s back seats and cram Max’s bike into the car before all jumping in and setting off. Y/N knew the road Heather lived on but not the exact house so she was relying on El to tell her which.

“Let’s go then.” Y/N pulled her coat over her cast again as the three of them climbed out of the car.

The rain was still hammering against the floor as they made their way to the front door. El used her powers to unlock the door and it swung inwards. They glanced at each other before walking in. Soft music was drifting through the house as they walked into the hallway. The hall was lined with staged photos of the family. The kind that people took to make it seem like everything was sunshine and rainbows.

Laughter echoed from the dining room, causing them all to look towards it. Y/N set off in the direction it came from, the two younger girls in tow. They walked in on Heathers parents sat at either end of the table, Billy in the middle of them. Everyone turned to look at the three intruders as they walked in.

“Billy?” Y/N’s voice caught in her throat as she looked at him. He was wearing a light blue shirt, the one he had worn the first time he met her mom. The gash on his head was completely gone.

“Y/N.” Billy’s eyes moved past her. “Max.”

“We didn’t mean to… barge in.” Max stuttered out.

“We tried to knock, but maybe you didn’t hear us over the storm.” Y/N managed to add, her eyes still trained on Billy.

“I’m sorry, who is this dripping all over my living room right now?” Heather’s dad asked, looking over the three girls. His eye lingered on Y/N’s cast and bruise.

“I’m sorry. Janet. Tom.” Billy gestured to Heather’s parents. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N, and my sister, Maxine.” Billy wiped his mouth on his napkin before standing up.

“Oooh!” Janet exclaimed.

Billy walked over to them. “What on earth are you doing here? Is something wrong?” He pressed a kiss to Y/N’s temple as he dropped his hand into her back pocket, effectively pulling her against him.

“Looking for you.” Y/N said her eyes meeting his. She searched for something but his eyes seemed emotionless. Something was wrong, she just didn’t know what. “Where’ve you been? I couldn’t find you.”

“Where is she?” El interjected.

Billy moved his eyes from Y/N. “I’m sorry. Where is who?”

“Well, they’re a little burnt, I’m sorry…” Heather drifted off as she noticed the three newcomers. She was holding a tray of cookies in her hands.

“Heather!” Billy exclaimed. “You already know Y/N, but this is my sister, Maxine and I’m sorry, I did not quite catch your name.” He turned to look at El.

“El.”

“El. Now what is it you were saying, El? You were looking for somebody?” Billy’s voice was off, almost passive aggressive. Y/N tried to step away from but his hand moved to her hip and kept her against him.

“I-I-I saw…” El stammered. “I saw you-”

“Your manager!” Max cut her off. “At the pool.”

“He said you guys didn’t come into work today, so we got worried.” Y/N looked heather over. Something about her seemed off as well.

“Heather wasn’t feeling so hot today, so we thought we’d take the day off to nurse her back to health.” Billy looked at Heather. “But you’re feeling just fine now, aren’t you, Heather?”

“I’m feeling so much better.” Heather nodded enthusiastically. “Do you guys want a cookie? They’re fresh out of the oven!”

“Thank you! But we better get going. I’ve got to get these two home.” Y/N plastered a smile on her face.

“I’ll walk you out.” Billy’s smile seemed equally as fake.

The four of them walked to the front door and Y/N turned to the girls. “You guys go to the car. I’ll meet you there in a minute.” She handed Max the keys. They nodded before walking out of the door. Billy’s eyes followed them as Y/N kicked the door shut.

“Hey.” She moved her hand to his chin and pulled him to look at her. “What’s going on? Where’ve you been?”

He rested both of his hands on her hips. “Nothing’s going on and I just told you.”

“What about the other night? Billy, what happened when we crashed?”

“You broke your arm and we had to go to the hospital.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

He laughed. “Nothing else happened, Y/N. I’ve got no idea what you mean.” The dead look was still in his eyes and his grip tightened on her hips. “I think you better get going, don’t want the girls waiting.”

“Call me tomorrow, promise me.” Y/N ran her thumb over his cheekbone. He was starting to worry her but she didn’t know what to say.

“Of course.” He moved his hand to her face and pulled her towards him. His lips connected with hers and there was nothing sweet about the kiss. It was harsh, possessive and lacking any compassion. He pulled back, her lip between his teeth. “See you later.” He moved past her and opened the door.

“Bye.” She looked at him one last time before stepping out into the rain.

“That was weird, right?” Max asked as soon as she climbed into the car and shut the door.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Y/N muttered.

“Can you stay at mine tonight? I mean El’s staying and my mom and Neil are out and…”

Y/N cut off Max’s rambling. “Yeah, of course. I’ll sleep in Billy’s room.”

She pushed the car into gear and set off, wondering what was the hell had just happened in that house.

Part 15 

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[chibinightowl]

First Contact

Inspired by @tanekore‘s utterly amazing Jason Todd piece, Freedom Fighter. I meant to have this up last week, but life threw me a ton of lemons, so I had to deal with the influx first. The story is set a few years in the future of a JayDick piece I wrote last year, which can be read here (forewarned, it’s E). This story is most definitely not. ^_^

---

The quiet ping from Tim’s comm put him on instant alert. And what a time for it, right in the middle of a conference vid with Federation High Command. Thank the stars he was alone in his office on board the Titan because otherwise, someone would undoubtedly notice the quiet shift of his hands as he brought up a holoscreen beneath his desk.

Normally, he wouldn’t go through the effort during a meeting such as this, but the alert was one he’d been waiting, no, hoping for since he lost contact with the merchant vessel his ultimate trump card was carefully stashed away on. The AI was his greatest accomplishment, so the loss of the ship and his agent were devastating to his plans to regain control over the hijacked Unternet, the sub-particle web that connected all the planets and colonies in the system with Earth. Anything was possible on those data streams and the government needed to regain control before Ulysses Armstrong realized exactly what he now had access to.

Tim suspected Moneyspider was involved somehow and Oracle concurred. Between them, they knew just about everything worth knowing in the Earth Federation; their respective roles in the Intelligence Service giving them more power than that fool of a President could ever dream of. Unlike the Penguin, he and Barbara Gordon were determined to use this knowledge for the betterment of all.

There were plans in place to overthrow the current regime, plans that they’d been ready to implement at the start of the next election cycle. Plans that were now crashing around them because of Armstrong. The AI had been key and now, despite all the odds, it was signaling it was back online.

How was Tim’s main question as his fingers flew over the small screen while maintaining eye contact with Admiral Wayne and the other Commanders of the six fleets that made up Naval forces protecting the solar system. From what was always a favorite unvoiced question of his since most of their turmoil came from within rather than from beyond. Case in point, right here as Armstrong was one of theirs, a former Naval officer with a massive chip on his shoulder that was often directed right at him.

Humans and their drama, he’d heard a Kryptonian say with derision once where he wasn’t supposed to overhear. It wasn’t entirely wrong, especially since humanity seemed to carry with them eons of history that they behaved as though occurred yesterday. Always looking to the past, the Kryptonian had added before changing the topic. 

Like they were ones to talk. There was a reason they were banned from this system. Or any other system with a yellow star. 

Tim swiped at the small holoscreen, tapping in the codes to receive data from the AI. Where was it? 

Streams of information flooded the screen, so fast his cybernetic-enhanced eyes could barely keep up. Dammit, this vid needed to end now. He could only listen to Ogilvy and Lark rehash the same stupid event for the third time. Neither of them came out of that looking great and both were determined to blame the other while trying to regain face with the Admiral.

Apparently, Admiral Wayne couldn’t stand to listen to it again either. “Alright, I think we’ve reached the end of the walk-ons,” he interrupted when Ogilvy paused for breath. “I expect to see all of you planet-side for the Naval graduation in three weeks. Until then, standard channels unless an emergency crops up.” 

He didn’t give the others a chance to reply and disconnected the vid, ending the conference. 

“Thank you,” Tim breathed, sending his holos to eye level with a flick of his wrist and expanding them. “TIM, load a chart of your current location.”

“Loading.” 

A large blue orb appeared on a third holo above the other two. 

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Neptune? How under the sun did you arrive there?”

The lost shuttle had been traveling between his base above Jupiter and Mars, using the interplanetary gates. Neptune’s current orbit could not be further away if it tried. 

A new stream of data appeared, complex figures and symbols that only someone with cybernetics could understand. What Tim read made him grimace because Oracle’s suspicions were now confirmed. Armstrong had used the Unternet to interfere with the interplanetary gates.

This was not good. At all.

“Current status?”

“Power cells at 15%, no exterior damage, and my scans indicate no internal damage either. However, I am in the hands of a human male who claims to be one of the greatest hackers who ever lived and he’s on the verge of cracking my HUD.”

“Son of a bitch,” Tim swore, fingers flying across the screen as he attempted to narrow in his own satellites and scanners on the AI’s location. “Any chance to draw power from elsewhere?”

“I’ve got enough power for a self-destruct. Should I initiate?”

Good question. Tim frowned and glanced back at the screen showing Neptune.

“Get me a visual on your hacker.”

The image flickered and a face appeared, framed by untamed red hair and a grungy cap that should have seen the trash bin ages ago. He was human alright, and smart enough to wear protective goggles as he poked around at TIM’s HUD. There was something familiar about him, but with his eyes concealed, it was up to facial recognition to narrow the possibilities. 

A list of possible names popped up, and Tim honed in on one immediately. Roy Harper, alias Arsenal. Member of the antigovernment group the Outlaws and listed as their resident munitions and technology expert. Hacker could probably fall under that category, although Tim suspected the man’s claims to be exaggerated unless things had drastically changed since the last time their paths crossed. 

It was times like these that Tim missed the relative simplicity of his Academy days. Dick would not be happy if he were to learn about this. 

Best not to tell him then. 

“No need for self-destruct yet,” he instructed the AI. “The Outlaws aren’t as antiestablishment as they’d like the press to believe. In their own way, they’re trying to take the Penguin down too.”

Not that they were doing a good job of it. They needed a plan, structure. A leader who didn’t fly off the handle and blow things up at the drop of a hat.

“Standby then, sir?”

Tim watched as Harper leaned in closer. Another figure stood behind him, just over his shoulder, but wearing a full-face mask as opposed to Harper’s goggles. He zoomed in and stepped back in surprise. 

It was an oni mask, grim and fearsome, and as red as the eyes of the man whose face it concealed. The thing was, he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this sector of space. In fact, if he remembered correctly, the file stated he was near Venus on the New Arkham penal colony, sentenced for a lifetime of hard labor in the mines for more murders than Tim had fingers and toes. 

Jason Todd. The Red Hood. 

What the hell was he doing here? 

Tim’s nearly obsessive need for answers had him sitting back down in his chair, eyes locked on the vid. “Yes. Standby and observe.”

---

Ghost ships never failed to give Jason the creeps. Death and him were old friends, but it didn’t make it any easier when the people bumping into him in zero-g never had a chance. An interplanetary gateway malfunction, Roy had guessed when they came upon the ship hanging in Neptune’s gravity-well. The large shuttle definitely wasn’t the type to travel long distances, and there wasn’t much out this far unless a person was readying to leave the system altogether. They were lucky the Starfire was of Tamaranean design, otherwise there would be no oxygen slowly filtering in from the docking port. This shuttle wasn’t the biggest he’d ever seen, but it was large enough for a good fifty or so passengers.

Where had it come from?

Jason pushed another drifting body away from where Roy crouched on the floor, the magnetic pull of their gravity-boots allowing them to stand still. “Seriously, let’s get out of here already.”

“Someone afraid of a bunch of dead people?”

“I see dead people all the time. You’re next if you don’t move your ass.”

Roy ignored him, entranced with the new toy he’d found drifting amongst the other detritus. “You don’t get it, Jaybird. This is DI tech. Drake Industries. We’re talking top-of-the-line, best of the best, tech here. It’s so expensive I can’t even afford it in my dreams.”

“You can’t even afford a new hat.”

“Go poke through the engine room. If there’s any charge left to those ion batteries, we’ll be sittin’ pretty for a cycle or more.”

Jason sighed as he wandered away. This was what he was reduced to, sifting through wreckage of dead vessels and scavenging for goods that would put food in his stomach and recharge the fuel cells on Kory’s ship. The last attempt to gain a foothold in the Federation had crippled the Outlaws more than the government likely realized, and it wasn’t just because they’d captured him.

No, even after his rescue by the two most incredible people he’d ever known, it all boiled down to one thing.

Money.

Well, money and information. Neither of which were in great abundance at the moment.

So here they were, out in the back of beyond licking their wounds and biding their time. Another opportunity to take a stab at the Penguin would come again. It had to, because otherwise, what was the point? What had he given everything up for if not for that one chance to make things right, better for everyone in the Earth Federation?

Not for the first time, an image of Dick flashed before his eyes and Jason shoved the thought away with a grimace. Fuck memory lane and fuck Dick Grayson. The past was the past and he’d more than learned from the mistakes he’d made there.

The engine room proved to have nothing but inert batteries, the charge to them utterly neutralized by the energies of a malfunctioning gateway. Jason shoved the last tube back into its casing and scowled. There went any chance of a decent meal unless he wanted to sift through the luggage in the hold.

Why the fuck not? It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, not with Roy still poking and prodding at that piece of DI tech.

The cold, dark air in the storage compartments made Jason shiver as soon as he entered. With all the pods, it reminded him of a tomb. In a way it was, as everything down here wasn’t needed by the people floating up above. Chances were likely all the passengers died when the gateway created the wormhole that sent them out here, but there might have been a few stragglers who slowly suffocated as the air ran out.

He got to work, switching on a light-stick to see by, and sorted through the luggage pods. There were a few promising items. Earth gems always garnered some decent creds outside the system, so the jewelry he found was stashed away quick enough. A silken robe he set aside for Kory, and in the depths of one suitcase, he found a stash of physical cred chips.

Maybe there would be some beef to add to his broccoli after all.

“Hey, Jay!” Roy called from above. “You down here?”

“Yeah!” Jason returned to the stairs so he wouldn’t need to shout. “The engine room was a bust, but you might want to check it out, just in case. Got a few things in here that might be worth something if we head over to Vega for the exchange.”

Roy clomped down the stairs, the pull on his boots against the metal making it ring with each step. “You won’t believe what this is.” He held out the thick, circular disc he’d been messing around with earlier.

“Something we can trade for a shit ton of creds?”

“Technically, yes. However, I think we might want to keep it.”

Jason frowned, not sure what his best friend was getting at. “Why?”

“Because this isn’t just DI tech. This is Drake Industries AI tech.”

Well now. Even he’d heard rumors about the kind of artificial intelligence DI was involved with. All military grade stuff too, the kind that required the highest of clearances to even be in the same room with it.

And now, here they were with what could be one of the most cutting-edge AIs in the system.

He sighed, not looking forward to poking through the bodies upstairs to see who it might have belonged to. “What have you done to it?”

Roy laughed, eyes a little wild as he slipped his shades back on. It didn’t matter that it was darker than the murk that constantly surrounded New Gotham, the man could see perfectly with them. “Charged the battery a bit. It was almost dead.”

“Are we gonna die if we turn this thing on?”

“Probably not.” Roy handed the disc to him. “At least, I’m 60% sure.”

Jason had lived through worse odds, but because he had a reputation to maintain, he still gave his friend shit. “Gee, that’s reassuring. And since you’re just so goddamned skilled at putting me at ease, I’m covering my face. The last thing we need is the Federation on our asses right now.” 

Roy shrugged and took a few steps back as Jason slid his oni mask on. It used the same lens technology as Roy’s shades. “Your funeral.”

“Yeah, it is.”

It wasn’t that Jason didn’t trust Roy. He knew in the coldest cockles of his heart that the man would never betray him. The problem was, his best friend was erratically brilliant and if what he said about this piece of tech was in anyway accurate, then they had a treasure trove of information and access into the inner workings of the Federation in their hands.

This was the edge the Outlaws needed to get back in the game. 

If he wasn’t, then chances were likely they were about to get fucked because that was the way their luck had been of late.

“Here goes nothing.” Jason pressed lightly on the activation sensor. 

The device illuminated and spun in his hand, glowing with a faint blue light as it hovered before them. A hologram appeared, about ten inches in height, of what appeared to be a human male. A rather attractive one at that, with fine features, sharp cheekbones, and an even sharper jaw. 

Whoever made the AI, they were definitely projecting a fantasy because no man could be that good looking. 

The hologram’s eyes narrowed. “I am TIM, designation 003-07-19. Who are you?”

Was that a bit of sass Jason’s ears detected? “Who do you think we are?” he asked instead, wanting to see what this thing could do.

A small HUD light up in front of TIM the AI. “Visual scans indicate Roy Harper, known as Arsenal, and Jason Todd, the Red Hood. Members of the antigovernment group the Outlaws.” Those eyes narrowed again. “Such an original name,” he muttered.

“Hey, who’re you to judge?” Jason shoved his mask up over his head because there was apparently no point in hiding behind it. With the light the AI was giving off, he could see just fine. “What kind of AI are you?”

“I am TIM,” the hologram replied. “Tactical Information Manager. Series 003-07-19.”

At least he answered direct questions. Why wasn’t he checking for clearance codes? Was this a private piece of tech rather than Navy? If so, whoever created this was a goddamned genius.

“Okay, TIM. Here’s the deal. We found you on board a ghost ship. There’s not a living soul out here except for me and Roy. You do what we tell you, we’ll bring you back to the inner ring.”

Eventually. Jason crossed his toes in his boots, a habit from childhood he never quite grew out of.

“My files indicate you are supposed to be on the New Arkham penal colony.”

Jason smirked. Looked like the government didn’t want to admit they’d fucked up and lost him. “Does it look like we’re on New Arkham? I don’t think so.”

“No, coordinates indicate we are orbiting Neptune.”

Looked like TIM’s data relays were connecting to the Starfire’s mainframe. Whether that was a good thing or not was for Roy to decide. Although, Kory would be pissed if they’d managed to fuck up her ship while she was undercover on the Titan.  “Yeah, it’s a real gas.” 

The humor was lost on the AI. “Did you escape then? Please tell me how so that I can update my files.” 

“Don’t think so, Timmy. If the government wants to believe they still have me all safe and sound in that hellhole, let them. It’s their fault they couldn’t keep me there in the first place.” Not that he ever made it there, but the AI didn’t need to know that.

“My name is TIM, not Timmy.” The AI sounded almost prissy. 

Jason leaned forward. “Your name is whatever I feel like calling ya.”

“Then that will make it hard to determine if you need my services or are speaking to the bots.”

“What the fuck kind of AI are you?”

“The best kind.”

--- Behind the HUD, the real Tim snickered as Todd’s posturing turned more and more into bewilderment the longer he bickered with TIM. Or maybe it was his makeshift uniform because who under the sun finds a man with an ice cream pin tacked onto his jacket intimidating? It even smiled. 

Still, this was a unique opportunity and one that he wasn’t about to waste. The Outlaws were working toward a similar goal as he and Oracle, even if they approached it from a different angle. How did that old adage go? The enemy of my enemy is my friend? 

Yes, he could make this work. Possibly even use these men to further his own goals and take out Armstrong. Wasn’t there a third person who was part of the main crew, a Tamaranean female? He’d have to check.

“The best kind,” Todd repeated, mocking while Harper snickered beside him. “Someone’s got a massively high opinion of himself.”

“Says the man who’s holding his life and jacket together with safety pins and duct tape,” Tim replied, and the AI repeated the words.

Todd’s face turned red and he pointed a gloved finger at TIM. “Listen here, TIM. I recognize DI tech when I see it. That shit’s top notch and so are you. And right now, you’re mine. So whatever backtalk you’ve got programmed into your behavioral patterns, forget it.” 

“I’m afraid you’re sadly mistaken,” the AI stated on its own. “Part of my programming includes the ability to verbally spar. My maker designed me so.”

Yes, and he was rather proud of that little fact. TIM was an extension of himself after all, designed to go where he could not.

“They programmed you to annoy the fuck outta people?”

“You are not my maker and I am not being used for my intended purpose. As such, anything I can do to complete my mission, I will.”

Harper whistled, low and slow. “Wow. I had no idea AI technology was this advanced. Those are subversive behavior patterns, right there.”

But Todd grinned slowly and held TIM higher. This close, Tim found himself face to face with a pair of stunning teal eyes, not red at all like the file stated. Were they his real color? He mentally smacked himself. Now was not the time to fixate on a pair of attractive eyes.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, I think we’re gonna get along just fine.”

The sad thing was, Tim was highly inclined to agree with him.

[loz-and-lu-fan-blog]

Tiny Time ch. 2- A new place?

Part one

*Tagging people @aceofspadeswiththedragoneggs @wildpuppa @pinkittwice @eleventhspy @jjpony @sillus @4firey1 ....ps don’t worry their will be more Link interactions in the next chapter*

A pair of blue eyes open to the world with confusion.

-

As the oldest warrior, Time, drifted into the dreamless sleep he was unaware of the changes that were happening to him. Memories soon began to fade from his mind but he didn’t fight it. The barriers he had spent years developing to protect his mind faded as well. His giant frame began to shrink, growing smaller and smaller. His body finally stopped shrink, stopping at a small and thin body. His clothes shift as well, his black paints shifted to shorts, his tan shirt shrink with him. However what changed was the things that appeared. A green gems appeared tied around his neck, as well as a deep green tunic that was lazily wrapped around his body. Old scars began to heal and fade as if their were never there while old forgotten wounds appeared again. When the transformation stopped the man now boy drifted into a comfort sleep. It felt nice.

—-

A pair of blue eyes open to the world with confusion. The little boy on the bed bolted up in confusion.

“Where am I?” He states out loud before grabbing his head in pain.

‘Gods what hit me?’ Link thought through the pain. This felt like the time the happy mask salesman knocked him out when he had gone some time without sleep. He remembers Tatle screaming at him to sleep but he wouldn’t listen so the little fairy took matters into her own hands and went to the happy mask salesman. While the dude was weird he was also determined to help Link.

Link thoughts stopped and he finally look around the room.

It was a little bedroom with a small bed and dresser.

And it wasn’t familiar at all....

This wasn’t the inn in Termina he practically lived at, besides if he was in Termina Tatle and Tale would have been glued to his side. Despite how Termina made him feel he would visit it frequently to play with Skullkid and visit with the citizens of Termina.

However it wasn’t Hyrule ether. It seemed like the Lost Woods however Link didn’t dare go back without Navi. He didn’t think he could face Saria without her. However this didn’t look like the inn in Castletown, it wasn’t as nice as the inn. And it definitely wasn’t Lon Lon Ranch because the house and the barn weren’t as nice as this room.

So where was he?

Link stayed quiet for a minute trying to collect his thoughts. It was after he had helped Termina because that memory was clear in his mind, and he knew he had been on his own for a while seeing as he knew where to go to forge for food. But what exactly happen before he couldn’t tell. Was it a year sense Termina or two? Was he on his way to visit Tatle and the Skullkid or was he on the way to visit Malon. Malon the one who had helped him after everything that happen. So why wasn’t he there with her safe? Why wasn’t he with the Skullkid or the happy mask salesman? Why was so quiet?

Why was it so quiet?

His masks!

Link bolted out the bed to the brown families bag on the side of the bed. His mask, the only constants in his life. He open the bag and digged through the masks in the bag. Until he finally got to the ones he’s was looking for, the Goron, Zora and Deku mask, the transformation mask.

It turns out that even if a soul leaves the realm of existence they leave a mark, almost like an imprint on the world. So even if the souls disappeared and were at rest their was still some of them left in the mask. Link could hear them, the spirits telling him how to do stuff or what to say, they have became the only consent in his life after Termina.

Link hugged the mask closer, happy they were their with him, they made him feel save.

Link let go of the mask and put them back in the bag, slightly wondering why they weren’t speaking.

‘They’ve been asleep for a long time little one’ a voice said in Links head. He knew exactly who it being to, the fierce deity or as Link liked to call him the Oni. He was the only ‘soul’ in a mask; but seeing how he was a god trapped Link didn’t really know if he counted as a soul.

‘Why?’ Link replied in his head before gathering his stuff. He was slightly confused on why he had such big swords and shields; even though he knew how to use them, physically he couldn’t use them properly.

‘It’s something I don’t even think I can explain’ the god replied as Link just shrugged. After grabbing his stuff Link made his way to the door and reached out to grab the doorknob.

‘NO!’ The Oni yelled making Link winced ‘they’re are people down there’

Link put his ear to the door and sure enough he could hear voices; they appeared to be speaking in another language that Link couldn’t understand.

‘Won’t they be friendly? They help me didn’t they?’ Link asked confused.

‘I’m not sure, I don’t know anything about them. They could be friend or foe but you can’t risk a fight right now’ Oni explains to the boy and Link slightly nods, his mind was still foggy so rushing into a possible fight wouldn’t be the best answer.

So Link turn his attention to the window, looking out he appeared to be on a second story, nothing a little tuck and roll couldn’t break. Link started to go over a mental list of what to do, find a town, get some supplies, mental figure out what’s wrong, come back; then he jumped.

Link rolled before looking at the house then observing the area, a path which was clear as day leading to somewhere else.

‘Let’s hope it’s a town’ Link said putting on his bunny hood.

‘Lets’ The Oni said.

Link ran off in the direction of the path, leaving the house behind.

-30 minutes later-

“He’s gone” Twilight practically screamed in a panic down to the other Links. Any argument they were planning to have died as soon as Twilight spoke.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Legend asked with a mix of anger and confusion.

“I mean he’s gone, he left the room” Twilight said as the group ran upstairs to check the once occupied room.

Twilight was right, their leader was no where in sight. The room was turned over slightly likely from Twilight looking for Time but nothing else seemed off. Legend went over to where the discarded armor was kept.

“He left his armor and his sword” he said gesturing to both pieces still clearly in a chair.

“That isn’t like the old man” Warrior said as nervous started to pierce his voice.

“Do you think he could have been kidnapped?” Four offered.

“Who would be stupid enough to try and kidnapped Pops?” Warrior asked.

“Maybe the Yiga. Their not the brightest....but even then none of them can really get to my house it has a protection spell on it” Wild said.

“I didn’t feel any dark magic” Hyrule offered in a quiet voice, still not liking to talk about it.

“Maybe he just need a walk?” Wind threw out.

“Out of a second story window? And Time isn’t one to just up and go wonder. That’s their camps” Legend said pointing to Hyrule and Wild.

“ENOUGH!” Sky screamed causing everyone arguing voice to stop in shock. Sky never raised his voice and always preferred to stay out of conflict. Maybe it was the fact Time was missing and they need someone to take control “Time is missing, the best thing to do would be to try and find him even if it’s just a walk”

Sky turned to Wild “do you think you can get your wolf friend to track him?”

“Umm maybe I’m not-“ Wild started.

“I’ll go look for Wolfie” Twilight said rushing out the door, no one saw Four practically roll his eyes.

“We can’t all go” Legend piped up “if Time did in fact just go for a stroll someone needs to be here in cause he comes back”

“Your right. Plus he could easily be in the surrounding area” Wild added just as Wolfie came in.

“So what’s the plan?” Warrior asked while the other Links turn towards Sky.

“Well Warrior and Wind why don’t you go with Wolfie and follow the sent. Wind has that special jewel that allows him to talk through Wild’s sheikian slate” Sky said before addressing the rest. “Stay around the area, don’t go to far and try to make sure Time didn’t get hurt or someone planning an attack”

The other Links nodded in understanding before Wild held out one of the straps for Time’a armor. The Wolf sniffed and seemed to pick up the sent as it turn to ran downstairs, Warrior and Wind found themselves chasing after the wolf.

“Me and Hyrule will check the eastern side of the house” Legend said.

“How about he rest of us check the western side, maybe it had something to do with the cave?” Wild offered to Sky and Four who nodded.

The Links soon began their next mission.

To find Time.

— around the same time elsewhere-

Link finally took a second to sit, sitting my a sign next to the road; he couldn’t read it but Link had an feeling is showed the name of the town.

‘Oni?’ Link asked in his mind. Physically he was removing the slightly red, green piece of cloth tied around his knee to wrap around his hand. The triforce on the back of his hand was sting.

‘Yes little one?’ Oni replies, was it Link’s imagine or did his voice sound softer.

‘What happen? Everything seems different....you sound different’ Link said as he began to dig through his mask bag, it alway just felt better to hold the mask you were talking to.

‘Alot happen little one...I sound different because I was hurt and only just now have started to recover’ the Oni explained.

‘What do you mea-‘ Link’s thoughts where cut off when he finally saw the fierce deity mask, an audible gasp escaped him.

The fierce deity mask, the indestructible mask that housed the War god’s souls was damaged. A clean slice went through the mask left eyes, going close enough to the edges almost enough to cut the mask in two.

Link lifted a shaky hand over the mask to trace the cut with his fingers. The only thing he could imagine doing this is Majora but he’s dead...

Right?

‘I apologize little one but I must leave’ Oni said interrupting his thoughts.

“What?..no” Link said not realizing he had said them out loud.

‘It won’t be forever my child. I just need some rest. I will speak to you soon’ Oni said before his presence left Link.

“No...no..no” Link mutter to himself when he felt the Oni leave, he hugged the mask to his chest. He hated being alone, he always had. He had Navi and then he had Tatle, and after them he had his mask.

Now he has no one.

Link began to cry on the ground, the emotions of the past year flooded him, the abandonment, the trauma, he was alone.

“Hey stop” he heard someone yell break him out of his thoughts. A covered wagon stopped on the road, and a brown hair women jumped out.

“Aww you poor thing” the women said stepping closer to Link.

Link immediately respond was to try and crawl away.

“No no no, it’s ok Little one I won’t hurt you” The women said and Link pause at the familiar nickname. The women gave him a smile.

“My name is Ema, and that my son Tama and my husband Rico (ps I made these names up on the fly I know their bad). We’re on our way to Terry Town to sell some honey” the women, Ema explain to Link.

Link slowly stood up to look in the wagon, sure enough their were jars and jars of honey, her son appeared to be eating some with a spoon.

“Do you know where your parents are? Did you get separate from them?” Ema asked. Link nodded a yes.

“Are they are Terry Town?” Another nod yes.

Ema smile “me and my husband would be more then happy to give you a ride there”

Links studied the women and the wagon. Their was nothing out of the ordinary and they seemed to know the way to town.

Link sallowed the lump in his throat and took a chance.

“.....ok”