#Vigilante made sure that everyone followed the rules

[melted-memories-a-pizza-tower-au]

Wait, busy? What did you guys even do at the tower?

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[forever-rogue]

I don’t know if your still taking request about Miguel but im going to shoot my shot 🕷️🕸️

What about a request where after arguing with the reader (hater to lovers) and he falls into a small crack of the universe and gets a glimpses of married life with her and them having kids. Then he realizes he doesn’t hate her🥲

Totally okay if you don’t want to write it 😊😊

AN | Miguel really is just a big old softie at heart! I hope you enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Miguel x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Main, Spider-Man

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Yeah?” you tried to glare at Miguel with as much venom as possible. Judging from the unimpressed look on his face you realized your words probably didn’t land how you wanted them to, “well…well you’re big and stupid! And ugly.”

You heard a snicker from behind you and quickly turned to glare at Peter. He straightened up and cleared his throat immediately. The corner of his mouth ticked up in a smirk as you sighed internally, “that’s the best you could do?”

“I, I…umm…”

“No matter how convincing your words or points are, I’m not changing my mind,” he pushed past you, not even bothering to look you in the face. The rest of the spiders all parted for him, already whispering among themselves, “you’re off any missions from here on out.”

“I hate you!” you shouted at his retreating back, trying to swallow down the tears that threatened to well up and pour down your cheeks.

“I know you do,” of course he heard. Curse the super hearing, “I hate you too.”

You scoffed and turned on your heel, storming off to go anywhere but here. You hated Miguel, you hated his stupid face and his stupid rules and everything about. 

Well, that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of anyway. But you knew, deep down, that it wasn’t true. You didn’t truly hate him. You didn’t think you were capable of doing that. 

“Do none of you have anything better to do?!” you shouted loudly, waving your hand around as you stormed out to go…anywhere but there. You just knew that Peter and Miles were following after you, accompanied by some small coos from Mayday. 

Only once you were back out in the fresh air, which currently did little to help your nerves, did you turn around to face your friends. You held up with your hands and shrugged at them, “well? Say what’s on your mind then.”

“That was…a lot,” Miles scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked at Peter, “what happened?”

“Is this about what happened in-”

“Yes,” you hung your head with a heavy groan, “this is about Shanghai. Somehow it is all my fault and that means I cannot ever do anything again.”

“But it was…everyone’s fault,” the boys exchanged a look as Mayday made a small sound of confusion, “not just yours.”

“I’m well aware of that…I thought everyone was aware of that, but for some reason Miguel is not,” you scoffed at the sheer thought of him, “he has this like personal vendetta against me and I have no clue why. But I am so tired of it. Maybe he’s right though, maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

“You’re not seriously considering leaving?” Miles’ entire face dropped as you shrugged, “I’m sure he’ll be over it soon.”

“Even so…maybe it’s time I don’t do this anymore,” you waved your hand around, “maybe it’s time I’m not some sort of fool with a weird radioactive spider bit doing vigilante shit.”

“But…but-” Peter had no clue how to follow that up - he’s been through those exact thoughts several times before, “you can’t just leave.”

“I dunno Peter,” you whispered, “it’s a lot to think about. But for now I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you guys later, okay?”

“Promise you won’t leave leave without saying goodbye?” you’d miss these two most of all if you did leave. But you had your own decisions to make.

“Swear on it,” that much at least was a promise. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Miguel stopped dead in his tracks as he looked across the park. Part of him was sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him, but no - this was a reality that was simply different from his own. Anything could happen…and apparently anything did happen. 

Because there you were, crouched down and talking to a small boy that was staring back excitedly with a big smile on face. You reached out and ruffled his dark hair before he ran off again, running towards the jungle gym. You straightened back up and shook your head fondly. But then - then - the real surprise came…in the form of himself. 

Alternate universe Miguel walked up to you and threw an arm around your shoulders as you shook on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. No fucking way. His breath hitched in his throat as he continued to watch the two of you, attempting to process what in the actual hell was happening. That’s when he noticed the bands on both of your fingers and the fact that the small boy you had been talking to looked suspiciously like a combination of both of you.

“No way,” the actual Miguel ran his hands through his hair in exasperation, “there’s no way.”

But…this was a different reality and he knew, maybe better than anybody, that anything was possible. He hung his head and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose; he was here for a reason, for a job, and he couldn’t let himself get distracted, and potentially ruin any canon events. He could feel the pull of curiosity getting the better of him; this was definitely not a reality that was any of his bingo cards. 

Really though, it should have been. Just because you believed he was an asshole, and let’s be honest he was, didn’t mean that he didn’t care about you. He probably cared too much  if he was being honest, which had led to him being overprotective of you and then…led to the current situation at hand. But you had fallen into the belief that he hated you and then you started to hate him and…yeah. Things were a mess essentially, but he could at least rest easier knowing that you were safe. 

He was going to turn around and complete what he was supposed to, really he was, but Miguel also knew that if you fell out of his view he’d probably never mind you again. And he had to know the current state of affairs between the two of you was. 

With a heavy huff, he camouflaged himself and hopped into a tree closer to the two of you. It wasn’t spying or anything…it was just gathering some intel. Sure, yeah, that’s what he was going to go with.

“Did you get everything for dinner, amor?” you raised an eyebrow and looked at him curiously (he’d been on the receiving end of that look so many times), “and don’t even bother lying to me.”

“Of course I did,” Miguel knew that he was lying. He knew himself well enough.

“Miguel,” you huffed and he groaned lightly, “you didn’t get anything yet, did you?”

“I haven’t gotten anything,” he admitted and Miguel couldn’t help but laugh at himself, “I’m sorry, amor! I got so busy and I had Diego and…yeah.”

“Yeah?” your hands settled on your waist as you sighed heavily, but with nothing short of fondness. You reached over and patted his cheek gently, “how about I take Diego and then you can go to the store? The big dinner is tomorrow and we need to get started on everything tonight. Think you can handle that, big guy?”

Actual Miguel couldn’t help but laugh at this version; he was whipped for you. The real, or whatever you wanted to call him, wasn’t quite ready to fully admit that just yet. But deep down inside he knew it was true. 

“Okay,” he leaned over and kissed you softly, “whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Smart man,” you beamed at him and he wrapped his arms around your shoulder.

Miguel was watching with wide, curious eyes as the whole thing unwrapped. Eventually the two of you left, the small boy - who he assumed was named Diego - in tow. He wanted to keep following you but he knew that wouldn’t be productive in any sense. Instead he was just feeling all sorts of things.

He was so intent on wanting to learn every little bit of your life in the short time he had; he didn’t even hear Miles pop up behind him. 

“What are you doing?” Miguel startled so harshly that he almost fell out of the tree. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and glared at the young spider, “everything alright here?”

“What are you…why - nevermind,” Miguel knew better than to question what Miles was doing there, “don’t sneak up on people like that, Miles.”

“Sorry,” the boy didn’t sound sorry at all, “you’ve been gone for a while and this seemed pretty simple so I wanted to make sure that nothing had gone wrong.”

“It’s fine,” Miguel hissed and looked around surreptitiously to make sure you and this Miguel had disappeared from view, “I just got a little…distracted.”

“Distracted?” Miles repeated. That was odd…Miguel was always all business and no play. Something was definitely going on, “are you sure you’re alright?”

When Miguel didn’t respond Miles looked around to see what could have gotten the man so distracted. He didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary and wasn’t able to draw any meaningful conclusions. Miguel turned to the younger boy with reddened cheeks and wild eyes, “yes. Now go back and focus on your jobs. I’ll be back soon.”

“If you’re-”

“Positive,” Miguel narrowed his eyes in a glare, “just let me do my work.”

“Okay…” Miles didn’t want to go, but Miguel already seemed annoyed and he wasn’t going to push the issue, “see you later.”

“Goodbye Miles,” he watched him pointedly until Miles left again. Once the boy was gone, he groaned loudly and smacked his head against the tree. 

The worst part of all was that Miguel had now lost track of you. He huffed heavily…it looked like his personal espionage quest was finished for now. 

Even if he never saw you again, at least he would always have this memory of you. 

He just hoped that the you back in your world was willing to talk to him, despite how awful he had been. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“What are you doing here?” your entire face fell as you looked at Miguel standing on your doorstep. You sighed heavily, and without waiting for an answer, started to close the door, but Miguel stopped you by lodging his foot in the door, “Miguel.”

“Don’t go,” he barked out, surprising both of you. His face warmed up as you opened and closed your mouth a few times. Your frown quickly returned and you crossed your arms over his chest, “I mean don’t…please don’t leave the team.”

“Give me one good reason,” you waited for an answer, but instead you were met with silence. You could tell that he was struggling with trying to say something but still you didn’t receive an answer. Scoffing, you tried to push him, “exactly. You don’t need me. Goodbye.”

“I don’t want you to go!” that caused you to stop in your tracks as your mouth dropped open. Miguel groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face at the sudden and seemingly unexpected confession. He waited for you to yell at him or something - anything. But instead you studied him intently. 

“Say it again,” your voice was less confident than you’d intended. You cringed internally but the expression on Miguel’s face made you feel slightly less awkward, “please?”

“I don’t want you to go,” he repeated softly, a small little half smile pulling up the corners of his mouth, “I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a nervous laugh, “you are Miguel.”

“And I’m sorry,” you hadn’t been expecting his first confession, and you definitely hadn’t been expecting an apology. Maybe you’d fallen into the wrong universe without knowing it, “so…yeah.”

“Are you going to kiss me or…?” you knew there was still a lot to go over but right now you really wanted this. You’d both been dancing around this for far too long. 

His hands found your face and he kissed you without hesitation. Apparently that was all he needed in order to finally make his move. It was almost embarrassing how often he thought about and wanted this. You hesitated for a moment before kissing him back and jumping into his arms, eager to have him all over you. 

He kissed like he did everything else - with purpose and his whole heart in it. It didn’t even phase you that you were making out in the middle of the hallway of your apartment building. Neither of you pulled apart until you were desperate for a breath of air. 

Miguel set you back down and the two of you exchanged shy, but happy smiles. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure of what exactly to say. He hadn’t thought this far - he definitely hadn’t thought he’d get to this point. 

“What changed your mind?” you asked quietly and his eyes widened in surprise at your question. Not that it was a weird question. 

“I’m not sure you’d believe it,” you couldn’t help but laugh at that before gesturing around and between yourselves.

“Miguel,” you dropped your voice so only the two of you could hear, “we have spider abilities and can travel between different universes. What could possibly that’s so crazy and I wouldn’t believe it?”

“You sure you want to hear it?”

“Duh.”

“That job I went on,” you huffed slightly because it was that very job that he’d forbidden you from going on, “I saw something.”

“Let me guess,” you had to hold back your giggles as you figured out exactly where this was going, “you found us and we happened to be married. Maybe with a kid?”

“H-how did you know?!”

“Because,” you opened the door and gestured for him to follow you inside, “in almost every universe I’ve gone to where we’re there we’ve been…together.”

“Oh,” his cheeks turned red as closed the door and leaned against it, “oh.”

“Oh,” you teased in return, “I wondered if you’d ever notice. You know what that means, right?”

“What does it mean?”

“I think it means you should kiss me,” there was a coquettish look on your face as he swallowed thickly, “unless you don’t want to?”

“I want to,” he stepped closer to you as you smiled up at him, “I really want to.”

“So do it.”

[ravenna-reid]

Your Demons Know Mine

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Canon typical violence and revisiting some of Jason's trauma

It was safe to say you and Jason got off to a rocky start. Even after all these months of fighting and investigating together, the two of you get along as well as oil and water.

It all began when Batman had interrupted you one night during patrol. The conversation wasn't really a welcome to Gotham and the vigilante life, nor was it a complete interrogation. But over time, he ended up warming up to you. A little. If that's what you could call it. And you got the idea that he wanted you to join him and his 'team.'

Initially, you were confused beyond hell as to why he came to you. But Huntress told you it was probably because Batman didn't like anything he couldn't control or at least keep an eye on in Gotham.

You gave a nod, turning over everything she'd told you about the Dark Knight in your head. "Interesting."

So working with the Bats here and there wasn't so bad, as long as you followed one very important rule. Amongst others. Obviously, you couldn't try and discover anyones secret identity or jeopardise their safety, but more importantly, you were never to take a life. You considered this, then agreed to his terms.

"No murder, got it." He didn't seem completely convinced, but you weren't about to piss off Batman. And so you began helping out the other 'bats.'

Nightwing, the Robins, Orphan, you name it.

And that's when you met the 6 foot something tank of a man that was Red Hood. Tall, intimidating and pretty aloof, the two of you soon clashed.

He was aggressive and rather impulsive at times, and you couldn't understand why he had to make such a mess during patrol. He made it pretty obvious that he didn't enjoy your covert tactics, never giving you the chance to prove your trustworthiness as a partner, which really pissed you off. One day he made a quip about how cunning you were. You scoffed.

"Sorry, let me just go grab a page from your book and buy a semi-automatic."

He gave a humourless laugh before turning to face you.

"What should I do first?" You mocked, hand on chin in thought, "Shoot up a building or just bash the criminals with it?"

Then he was only inches before you, figure looming over yours as he peered down. "Should I be sly like you? At least I don't pull the wool over people's eyes."

The tension was thick. Real. Suffocating. You couldn't see his eyes, but you could imagine the glare behind that insufferable red helmet.

The worst part was, even though you've never seen his face, you just knew he was handsome. He was probably drop dead gorgeous the asshole. Tall, sculpted, there have even been times when you caught him slipping that helmet back on, catching glimpses of his dark hair. And he was awfully protective of everyone, especially the innocent. But he was still a brash asshole.

This continued on, and it was soon pretty obvious to the rest how you two viewed each other. And you were sure the Bats were pulling your leg, because now you were on a mission with Red Hood.

"Are you kidding me." You murmured to yourself. But you nodded along and took in everything Oracle told you guys. Luckily you wouldn't be completely alone with him, given Nightwing would be in the area.

He gave you a nudge before whispering, "Maybe this will help you two to finally get along."

No comment from you.

Once the meeting was finished, you waved goodbye to Red Robin, Nightwing and Orphan and sauntered out of the cave. Hood lifted his leg over his motorbike before watching you head towards the exit.

"Where are you going?" He asked, already sounding like he was done with your shit.

"I have a license Red. Meet you there." Then you disappeared into the darkness before an engine roared to life. A single headlight lit up the entrance to the Batcave, and he was a little surprised to see you on your own motorbike. His gaze brushed over your usual braid as it fell down your back. Then you turned and rode off into the distance.

You took off down the backroads and short cuts before you made it to the location Oracle sent you.

A secret lab.

A secret lab the company you work for owned.

For the past few weeks, you'd been picking up the suspicious activity occurring at work between those higher up and began investigating. They were trying to create something illegal. Sell it to big time criminals for a chunk of money. It was some sort of chemical warfare plan and you had to act on it fast. So you were kind relieved to find Batman was onto it now, since you would most defiantly found out what's going on tonight.

Hacking into the system once again, you were able to find tip of the ice berg information, such as the guards time table. There were only two guards on tonight at this odd warehouse, so your plan was simple.

You'd set up your little tear gas traps in front of the breaker box. Once you cut the electricity, they'd head to the box to figure out what the problem was, and then you'd attack.

You couldn't believe how well the plan was working. Thank the Lord you decided to become a Chemist and knew what chemicals to mix and use.

The guard triggered the small bomb, releasing tear gas into the air that began to eat away at his eyes. Quickly slipping your hands into the pouches attached to the side of your belt, you manoeuvred your hands into your chloroform gloves before rushing behind him. With the burning sensation in his eyes, your legs restricting his arm movement and chloroform soaked gloves over his nose and mouth, he was out in seconds.

You slipped away from him and began down the hall towards where the second guard was until you heard a whack. There were sounds of struggles, grunts and heavy thuds. You froze and pressed yourself against the wall, a confused frown on your face. "What on Earth?"

Someone hit the ground hard.

"Scumbag." A voice bellowed.

You immediately rolled your eyes. Turning the corner, you were met with Red Hood with his bloody hands and the guard knocked out on the floor. He took you in; your dripping gloves and that bewildered look in your eyes.

"Sorry princess, was this too much for you?" He asked, gesturing to the guards crumpled form.

"Let's just get on with it." You snapped back, removing your gloves and tossing them back into their pouches. You eyed the guns strapped to his thighs, thankful he hadn't used them...yet.

"You handled the other guard?" He asked, falling into step behind you.

"Mhm. Hence the gloves."

"Right, your little poisons and what not."

You soon came to the door of the lab room Oracle needed you guys to break into. Using the information you'd found whilst investigating, you lifted your goggles from your eyes and went through various passcodes.

You were curious as to what you'd find in there. Jason was curious about how you knew what pins to sift through, watching you from behind as your fingers danced along the key pad. "You only get three attempts you know."

"I know." Third times a charm, because the door suddenly gave a hiss before slowly opening.

You both entered the cold, dark room, but not before something grabbed your arm and pulled you in. You turned on your heel only to find Red right behind you. His hold was a lot softer than you thought it would be. "What are you-"

"How did you know the pins? Oracle didn't even have that information?"

He tried to focus. He really did. But your mask only covered the bottom half of your face, and with your goggles sitting on your forehead, those eyes of yours were sending him into a coma.

"Because I'm familiar with this company." You spat back, a little taken aback. "You still don't trust me, do you?"

"Like hell I trust you."

At the mere mention of it, Jason felt something heavy in his stomach. Why did that statement effect him? Why didn't he like saying it?

"You're with them, aren't you?" He asked, voice low as he desperately ignored the guilt that began to stir deep down. Because the paranoia was just as strong.

"What?"

"You must know what they're doing. What, are you tryna lure us in?"

"Get the fuck outta here Red. You can't be serious-"

Before you could finish what you're saying, something flashed behind him. A figure. A crow bar.

"Red, move!" Using all your strength, you gripped onto his arms and tried to shove him out the way before the crow bar swung, the end of it just hitting your arm.

You let out a pained yell and quickly tumble away from the attacker, hand gripped around your aching forearm.

Jason didn't hesitate, instantly lunging towards the figure. Ignoring the pain in your arm you got into your fighting stance before someone else caught your eye. Someone to your side. Another man covered in black launched towards you, sword in hand.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you ducked out of the way. Swiftly, you slipped under one of the tables and came out on the other side. Draws surrounded you and you quickly yanked one open. It was filled with bottles of half used chemicals and jars filled with...alkali metals. Your eyes practically lit up when you saw them. You grabbed the potassium jar, and just as he made his way around the lab table, you turned the tap of the sink on and chucked the plethora of metals inside it. Next thing you knew, an explosion as loud as thunder went off, smoke decorating the air as he ran straight into it.

Your ears began to ring and a coughing attack creeped up on you, but you could only imagine how he was feeling. Slipping your knuckle busters over your fingers, you began to throw hits. It's not really your forte though, so once he was on his knees, you pulled the cloth from one of your pouches and wrapped it around his head, holding it there with all your strength. He went out like a light.

As you disregarded his body, you turned to see Jason was now fighting two men. You caught him quickly looking over at you before realising his guns were somehow tossed across the room during the fight. Now he was relying heavily on his fists, and that might have been even scarier. He was quick and concise, strong with his hits, and it was obvious he wasn't holding back. The second man went down hard, his face bloody and bruised. The first attacker, however, was swinging that crow bar like his life depended on it. And suddenly you noticed the Hood falter. You quickly raced to Red Hood's side.

Already mixed with such sickening anxiety and adrenaline from the use of the crow bar against him, that panic suddenly grew ten fold once he realised you were coming to help him.

"No!" His voice was laced with desperation, completely foreign to the Red Hood you knew. His large arm came up and suddenly pushed you back. And as he did so, the curved end of the crow bar collided with the side of his helmet. The force broke it, separating the bright red so that you could see one of his eyes and half of his domino mask.

Jason was stunned. He was back in that warehouse with the clown.

"I'm gonna beat you until you're unrecognisable."

Those words sent a shiver down Jason's spine. Why, when he was so much taller than the man, was he suddenly feeling so small?

You saw Red's eye, and the fear that flashed across it. You couldn't understand what it was that was getting under his skin, but it hit you hard in the chest. Because you knew that look all too well.

Eager with determination, you slipped your daggers into your hands and got ready to take out this asshole, when suddenly Hood tackled him to the ground. But it wasn't Red's usual tactic or fighting style. No...this was animalistic. In seconds, Jason had the man pinned to the ground and the crow bar in his hand.

You hadn't realised Nightwing was yelling in your ear, that he could hear what was happening through the comms. Shit, you completely blanked out.

"Hood? [Vigilante name]? What's going on??" Nightwing urged.

But you couldn't respond, because Red Hood was now beating the life out of the man before you. It was violent. Confronting. Harrowing. You knew he was violent, weren't we all? But not like this...

This was the product of something deeper. Something horrible imbedded into Red Hood.

"Red..." Your voice was too quiet, travelling right over his head. But each blow was becoming worse as Jason got lost in his thoughts and fears. Got lost in the past. So this time you yelled out.

"Red Hood! That's enough!"

He kept going though. It wasn't until the harrowing echo of a gunshot ringing through the room that he stopped. Jason snapped his head over his shoulder to look back at you. You stood there, grimace evident on your face even with your mask on, with one of his guns in your hold and aimed at the ceiling.

"That's enough! We gotta go!"

A deer in headlights. Jason stared back at you, the one eye you could see glassy and absent. You lowered the hand gripping onto that awful weapon he treasured so much. You never touched a gun, and you hoped you'd never have to touch one again.

Creeping towards him, you surely, gingerly slipped the crow bar out of his hold. He flinched, his muscles tensing as he watched you. Nerves ran through your body as you slowed down your movements. You tossed the crow bar to the side before crouching down to his eyes level.

A part of you felt sickly relatable to him. Like you were staring at an older version of yourself.

"Come on," you urged. "I know where the files are. Let me grab them and we can go."

Jason slowly came to again, giving a nod in response. You left to search for the folder and Jason's eyes trailed down to the man beneath him, his breath slow and laboured. So many emotions were coursing through Jason. Rage, hate, fear. He looked over to you as he got to his feet, thankful that you were here. But also resentful that you were. That you had to see that side of him.

Nightwing and the others talked through the comms, evidently worried about you and Red, and Jason could only imagine the shit show he'd have to face when he got back to the Batcave.

You quickly walked back to him, thick folder in hand.

"Alright, let's go Red." Your heart was still pounding in your ears as you rushed past him. But he didn't follow. You turned to look back at him; a man so vicious and large, and yet all you saw was someone who was broken. "Red, what's wrong?"

His deadset stare was back, the mask was back up, but his voice was soft. "You hate using guns..."

part two ya'll? lmk in the comments <3

[restwellsoon]

Afterhours

Minors and ageless blogs do not interact (liking/reblogging) or follow! You will be blocked!

Pairing: Jason Todd x F!Reader

Summary: The Red Hood decides to confront you after work regarding a curious rumor you started as an informant. 

/ “You know what I do to bad guys, but what I do to bad girls is even worse.”

Warnings: dubcon, crime lord!Jason Todd/ Red Hood, degradation and humiliation, toys, daddy kink, being called princess, mention of drugs (for the plot)

Scrubbing at your arms to get some kind of warmth, you huffed impatiently. The informant was late. Sure, it was understandable why the Bat would want all contact to be verbal; both of you–well, mainly you–would go down if you were caught. Everyone knew what Cobblepot was capable of. The shorter list of convictions compared to other Gotham criminals didn’t mean that he was less capable, and working for the corporate and legal end of his business meant that you were privy to the real reasons behind the sudden company reorgs.

You shivered before deciding to pace around your office. It wasn’t like the informant to be late. Were they caught? Were you busted? Maybe you should just go home. You spent too many hours working overtime anyway.

The goosebumps weren’t going away. The office A/C that you cherished in the sticky and humid summers of Jersey was now a frigid hell. You weren’t sure of who was punishing you–the Batman or the Penguin.

With the creak of your door, you snapped, “About fuckin’–”

The last word fell into the nylon carpet as you stared into the glowing eyes of the Red Hood. The door slammed shut, and he left it unlocked. It didn’t matter. You knew you wouldn’t be able to get past him anyway. Instead, you froze in front of your desk.

“Yeah, let’s talk about getting fucked.” The robotic drawl of your full name in perfect pronunciation made you grimace as he stepped towards you. Any thoughts of him walking into the wrong office and getting the wrong person were gone. “That was pretty ballsy of you to drop my name in your conversations with the Bat.”

You couldn’t even deny his accusation. You thought you were being clever, that maybe you could do some of that double-crossing shit that the vigilantes and villains played so easily. It seemed easy because you were an amateur; maybe you were fucking up this entire time. All you remembered were the extra zeros in your bank account as you played Batman and your boss.

“Mr. Cobblepot has an image to maintain,” you told the informant–Spanky? Or was it Matches? Either way the name was ridiculous–“so he wouldn’t intentionally let this new drug hit his clubs.”

The latest street drug in Gotham had a similar chemical compound to drugs like buprenorphine and chlordiazepoxide. They eased the symptoms of withdrawal, making a more tolerable and safer transition into sobriety.

“So you’re saying that sobering up his clients isn’t in his best interest?” His mustache twitched, and you wondered if it was glued on or real.

“Exactly. His regular clients would seek out other dealers to get the high they’re used to. They don’t go to the Iceberg Lounge for the atmosphere. They go because it’s one of the safer options to get snowed. Who knows what sort of diabolical shit is mixed into the Black Mask’s supply?”

His mustache wiggled as he hummed. “Well, if it isn’t the Penguin, who else would put this on the streets?”

The informant paid close attention to your words as you paused to give him a new lead. 

“Well, if you're looking for the name of a cartel or gang, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. I don’t know much about its manufacturing or distribution. I work in communications, so…” 

Crossing your arms, you blew some air as you tried to think of a name to distract the Bat and keep your wallet fat. “The only crime lord that would benefit from this is the Red Hood, don’t you think?”

Ever since he first showed up on the scene, he’d been adamant about cleaning up the underbelly of Gotham. His strict rules against selling to kids made the areas he controlled safer. Commissioning this drug and letting it hit the Gotham market was a way to help addiction-addled neighborhoods rebuild. 

His expression was unreadable behind his dark glasses. The only way you knew that he was satisfied with your answer was when you heard your bank app ding with the agreement that you’d meet again in two weeks.

At the time, you thought that mentioning the Red Hood was ingenious. Compared to other criminals, the Red Hood seemed to be less vicious towards women. Since his rise to power, there hadn’t been any reports or news about him or his henchmen attacking them. If the informant wanted you to name drop someone, you were going to choose someone who would maybe spare your life. Yet seeing him up close gave you some doubt.

You swallowed your nervousness as you edged to the desk. Your hands blindly reached for something that could do some damage, but alas, your laptop was packed away and your pens were in their drawer.

“Look,” he sighed, “if you’re gonna play dirty, you gotta make sure your opponent can’t find dirt on you.” It was a roundabout way of calling you a dumbass.

You half turned to watch him circle round your desk, kneeling to dial in the combo to your locked drawer. Stupidly, you got closer when you heard the click that told you he opened it successfully. Using your birthday backwards as the combo was enough to deter nosy co-workers but clearly wasn’t not secure enough to deter a crime lord with a vendetta. If you made it out alive, you promised yourself that you’d change all of your passwords to something with stronger security–you’d even make sure that you didn’t repeat them on several accounts.

“Jesus,” the Red Hood laughed through his modulator, “you got the rechargeable one too? I’m not sure if Cobblefield ain’t paying you shit, batteries are expensive, you’re environmentally-conscious,, or it’s some combination of the above.” 

The sight of a cross-armed Red Hood with your rabbit vibe in his hands was something you’d never imagine in your wildest dreams.

“Your little toy isn’t the only thing I found out about you.” 

Oh god, what else did he find? Your face felt hot from embarrassment.

“Did you know that the sites you go on and the things you search can still be tracked by an establishment’s WiFi network log?” 

He was grinning beneath the mask, you just knew it. Bastard. 

“Yeah, even if you use your phone on private browsing… Crazy, right?”

All you could muster was a choked ‘yeah’ as you tried to recall everything you looked up in the past week. It was highly likely that the Red Hood looked back at least a month. Now what did you search for that wasn’t related to work?

You didn’t have to recall. He listed it out for you in a painfully slow and enunciated manner.

“Red Hood shirtless, Red Hood legs spread, Red Hood dick size, mask or helmet kink, intro to BDSM, what is a service top… And this was just within the past two weeks, goddamn.” He shook his head in judgment. “Should I continue?”

Fuck.

You couldn’t show fear to these types of people, you learned early on in your career. That’s what they got off on.

“What’s wrong with a woman having a healthy sexual appetite?” You asked defensively. “You some kind of prude or what?” That seemed to get a genuine laugh out of him.

“See, here’s the thing,” he told you, helping himself to your luxury office chair, leaning back as his boots settled on the desk. “Everyone thinks that I’m a bad guy, that I just blindly use violence to punish even badder guys. ‘There aren’t any brains under that hood! He’s just some beefy bastard with a fat cock! An idiot! A dunce!’” If he was speaking in some high-pitched mocking tone, his modulator didn’t catch it. It stayed in that robotic monotone.

Jason paused for a second to see if you’d agree, forgetting that a normal reaction was to be scared shitless and mute. When you didn’t make an indication of anything, those combat boots of his hit the carpet with a thud, chair screeching and lurching forward to see your face. Your toy laid forgotten on the desk.

Audibly you swallowed as you looked at him–well, not really him but the mask that he wore, the bright white of his eyes a stark contrast to the cherry red of his helmet. It was the mystery of what he looked like beneath it that drove your imagination wild. What color were his eyes? His hair? How full were his lips? Did he have scars?

As if knowing that you wanted a better angle, he tilted your chin to comply with your unspoken wish. It wasn’t as if it changed anything; you still knew nothing of his looks, but the cool leather of his glove made you more aware of how starved you were of any kind of touch. That healthy sexual appetite you claimed to have suddenly turned into hunger pangs.

“There was a lot of thought put into this plan, sweetheart,” the Red Hood chided.

His glove left your face to press on some hidden panel close to his jaw. There was a soft click that loosened his helmet.

Then you heard him–somewhat muffled and low and incredibly human. 

“See, I’m giving you a pretty sick deal. You get to live out one of your fantasies in exchange for recanting your statement to the Bat. Even if I have nothing to hide, I hate whenever the old man comes sniffing around. Don’t worry. I’ll even promise my protection too in the event of retaliation–from him or Cobblepot. Do we have a deal or not?”

Your voice came out breathier than you realized. “And if I say no?”

He made a show of taking off his helmet, and to your surprise, a red domino mask covered his eyes. Tousling his dark curls, he pursed those perfect lips, “Well, shit. When I was searching through those logs, I figured that you’d be so horny for me that refusing wouldn’t even cross your mind.”

It was starting to make sense why Cobblepot was always irritated after dealing with the Red Hood. You laughed. “Look Hood, the quips were cute at first, but they’re getting old fast. You’re so full of yourself. Now tell me what happens if I refuse.”

“One, if you say yes, you could be full of me too.” You imagined that if he took the domino off that he’d punctuate that sentence with a wink. “And two…”

You could hear the smile in his voice along with something devious. When did he get so close? He was slotted between your legs as you sat on the edge of your desk. The cool feel of his gloves pulled your arms back and held your wrists there, leaving you captive to whatever he had to say.

“You know what I do to bad guys, but what I do to bad girls is even worse.”

“Oh yeah?” you breathed out. Fine, you’d admit it. That was fucking hot. “Then show me.”

“Show you what?”

His thigh nudged your center, pushing your dress skirt up with the motion.

“What you do to bad girls,” you said through gritted teeth. His hold on your wrists kept your upper body in place.

“Say it for me first.”

But that didn’t mean that you couldn’t use your leg to drag him closer. You hooked one leg behind him. Now you could feel his length against you though he wouldn’t budge otherwise.

“Please.” 

Nothing.

“Daddy, please.”

“You can be obedient when you want to be, huh? Fuckin’ brat.” Jason found amusement in your frustration. “Sorry, but those aren’t the right words. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, we have a fuckin’ deal.”

Finally that thick thigh was back to putting sweet pressure on your clit, the Red Hood’s slight movements providing teasing friction that kept you slick.

“Atta girl, princess. ‘Fraid I gotta shut you up for a few though. I know your performance reviews say that you’re well-spoken, but they made no mention of you being so damn chatty.”

Before you could talk about the irony of his comment, Jason let your wrists go and stepped back, using his free hands to unzip his pants and pull out his cock and balls. Your mouth hung open at the sight.

Giving it a stroke upwards, his balls followed the movement. Jason smeared his precum over the shaft, giving it a nice shine before ordering you to lay flat on your desk with your head hanging from the edge. His sack looked heavy and full.

“So this is what you meant–”

“Less talking, more sucking,” he grunted, taking the opportunity to shove the tip into your mouth.

The girth was unexpected as your jaw stretched to accommodate his size. You gave it a suck before relaxing your throat to take more of him. Jason eased into you slowly, watching as you swallowed as many inches as you could before pulling out and smearing his spit-laden cock across your mouth. You jerked him while gently sucking on his nuts, thinking about the reward you’d get if you could edge him long enough. The thought of him filling you up with a big, hot load made your center ache.

So focused on your thoughts, you hardly noticed that Jason replaced himself with your toy, watching as your drool frothed and dribbled down your chin while you gagged.

“Be patient with me, princess,” he murmured as he leaned across your body, vibe in hand, to push your panties aside, cock pressing against your cheek. You tried to move your head to take his length but the Red Hood’s weight made it difficult to do so.

Jason wasted no time shoving the entirety of the toy inside you, making you gasp. If you wanted him as desperately as he thought, then he had to prep you well so you could take him.

“Patience,” he lightly scolded you. “Damn, if I knew you were this needy for Daddy’s cock, I would have come earlier so the fun could last longer.” He placed himself back in your throat.

Slow deep breaths through your nose, you reminded yourself. It was difficult though when he was facefucking you in sync with your toy. There was little room for your moans and sighs to escape.

He most definitely understood your muffled ‘FUCK’ when he turned on the toy though, both shaft and rabbit ears vibrating. Your knuckles were white from desperately clutching at whatever you could; you needed something to keep you grounded from the assault on your clit, toy shaped perfectly to hit your G-spot.

The vibe kept making you moan, making your throat squeeze in ways that would make Jason cum early. “That’s it for now,” he said to deaf ears, pulling out to focus on playing with your pussy. He repositioned himself so one hand controlled the toy and the other held you down.

“Is this all you got?” You taunted, sweat catching the neon lights from the window. Your hair was disheveled and stuck to your forehead. Your legs quivered. You looked pathetic. 

The Red Hood laughed, and you weren’t sure of what you wanted more of–that mocking robotic modulator or the rich tones of his real voice.

“The way your lips are wrapped around that toy tells me that’s more than enough. If you want this,” his cock was still perfectly hard and this angle highlighted the thick veins that lined his shaft, “then we need to take our time. Luckily for you, I have the patience of a saint.”

“Well, I don’t. Sit down, so I can fuck you.”

He was used to more demure requests to ride him, so your brazen words lit something inside Jason. Fuck it, he thought. He was still annoyed at you mentioning his name to Bruce. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he watched you struggle to take him.

The toy came out with a yank, your pussy aching. The emptiness was only temporary though. There was something more filling, waiting for it.

Seeing that slight look of surprise on his mouth was worth it as you pushed him onto the chair, spitting on his cock before straddling him. Your panties were lost in some dark corner along with your bra. Your disheveled office wear struggled to maintain your modesty with loose buttons and crumpled fabric.

“Mmfph–fuck!” 

Your nails dug into the Red Hood’s shoulders as you tried to find your pace. You had about halfway more to go.

“Told ya,” he said smugly, reaching beneath your dress to squeeze your ass. He buried his face in your tits, sucking on whatever flesh he could. You gasped when he finally reached your nipple, his tender suction making you shiver.

“Big motherfucker,” you grumbled, bouncing up and down on what you could with his help.

“Damn, you feel good,” Jason sighed. 

Lately he’d been so focused on the complicated aspects of his line of work; it seemed like he could never just chill and do something for himself. Isn’t that what all the experts say? That self-care was important?

So when one of his informants told him that Bruce and his band of bat brats were poking around his turf, Jason’s first thought was to dispose of whoever Bruce paid off. When the informant said that the rat was the Iceberg Lounge’s hot publicist, he considered his first reaction too harsh, that perhaps it’d be best if he investigated this personally. Oh, he was so fucking glad that he did.

With each bounce, he pushed you lower on his length, and he’d go by half-inches if it meant reaching heaven. Fucking you with the toy first was a brilliant idea. Even though you didn’t say it, he knew you came. That’s why you were struggling on his cock. That cute little cunt of yours was still spasming from your first orgasm. How could anyone be so tight and wet, he thought, and for him.

He sat back and watched as you kept riding him with frustration. Your sweet pussy nectar was pooling at the base, and the lewd sounds it made was music to his ears. But the sound of his balls slapping your cheeks would be even nicer.

“Good effort, princess, but you’re starting to look pathetic and needy and desperate. What?” He laughed, swiping his thumb along your pout. “It’s cute. Daddy’ll take care of you.”

He hoisted you off him with ease, giving you another reason to make your pussy throb. A part of you wanted to ask him to fuck you while standing or maybe against the wall. No! A small rational voice told you. Let’s see what he does first.

Laying you on the ground, he pushed your legs back with your ankles on his shoulders, exposing your cunt to cool air. It was slick and puffy from all the work you put in. Taking two fingers, Jason spread your lips so he could tease your clit. Each little movement made you twitch. 

Perfect, he thought. He knew how to get you where he wanted. The feeling of his thick, heavy tip rubbing your most sensitive spot made your toes curl as you huffed and moaned at his touch. Your hips pressed up in a weak attempt to slip it in. Your heels were nearly dangling off your feet from the movement.

“Since you want this cock so badly, I’ll give it to you, princess, but we’re doing it my way.”

Eagerly, you nodded. Your way, his way. It didn’t matter as long as he was in you.

Yet quickly you found out that you shouldn’t have agreed so readily. He moved impossibly slow.

“It’s a shame,” he tried to make small talk, one gloved hand carefully keeping the distance between you and his cock while the other balanced his weight above you, “that you chose to work for Cobblepot. How bout you work for me instead? Name your salary–I’ll double it. As a bonus, we can even fuck whenever you want.”

“You act as if I need your cock.” 

Ignoring your tone, Jason stated the obvious. You did. Your body practically melted in the carpet when he went completely in.

“Look how full you are. You think you can go back to your toys or another man’s cock after this? I ruined you, princess.” Instead of sounding remorseful, he was proud. “I bet in the days after, you’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout how empty you feel without me.”

You didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of being right–his cock felt so good once you got through that first bit of discomfort–but there was no point in being stubborn. The Red Hood didn’t intend on having you hear him out. He was going to show you.

He fucked you as roughly as you imagined, using long strokes that left both of you breathless. There was something erotic about the sudden silence. There was only heavy breathing and moans, slick sounds and pounding.

And when you came, it was like the lights cut out, eyes squeezed shut for total darkness. The only electricity existed in his touch, sparking waves of pleasure throughout your body.

–

Uncertain if you actually dozed off or not, you woke up to a familiar mechanic hum. He had his helmet back on, his clothes back to their baseline level of grunge. Perhaps it was because of the intimacy you shared, but the Red Hood seemed far less threatening now compared to the start of the night.

“Don’t forget about the deal we made,” he told you, standing near your feet.

Like him, going back to how you normally were was easy now that lust no longer clouded your actions.

“And what if I don’t?” you asked, standing slowly from sore muscles. “Like you said earlier, I am a bad girl.”

“I’ve already planned for that.”

You tried to fix your dress to the best of your abilities. It was no use though. It was a poor victim of your decisions.

“Well, if that’s the case, expect another visit.” 

You stalled, letting the fabric fall as you tried to decipher his meaning behind the modulator. Was that a threat or a promise?

“And next time, I’m coming during office hours.”

You let the warm sensation of his cum sliding down your thighs decide for you.

Return to

Curated Masterlists

Jason Todd’s Masterlist

[siconetribal]

Put It On My Tab: Chapter 8

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali

Warning: Epiphanies, violence, crime fighting, and staffing issues

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:

Sorry about the delay, I wasn't sure on where to go with the story for some time, and health problems started popping up more and more. Things are still hectic, but hopefully manageable.

Personal matters aside, I hope you all continue to enjoy. Thank you for all your support always.

A big shout-out to my friend who is a manager of a facility much like Citlalli. How you handle the various incidents that you do with such grace is inspiring.

A huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, here is a link to the other parts:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

It was moments like these that reminded him of the benefits of wearing his red helmet. The contents of his head remained intact and inside his skull at all times..

  Holy shit, she was the barista at the counter! Red Hood quickly got back up onto his feet, bobbing to dodge a hook before grabbing the bigger guy's sleeve, yanking the guy forward to grab his head. A sickening crunch followed by a cry of pain was satisfaction to the vigilante’s ears. The lumbering giant fell to his knees, holding his face. “It wasn’t that bad,” he scoffed, waiting for his opponent to get back up. The clang of metal was all he heard before watching the crook fall face-first into the pavement. “Now that, that would be pretty bad.” He shrugged, looking up at Nightwing. “You know I had him, right?”

“Is that what you call being plowed into a brick wall? I swear, the lingo of the youth these days.” The elder Robin ran a gloved hand through his hair, looking down at the unconscious bodies littered around. “Two, four, I think that’s all of them.” He nudged his foot into the one on his right, watching the body roll over. 

“Looks like it. Now we just gotta wrap ‘em up and drop ‘em off for the cops.” Red Hood motioned towards the street with his head. “I guess today wasn’t a total waste.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. Dammit, I can’t believe I didn’t notice it sooner! This could’ve all been nicely packed and solved, stupid, stupid, stupid! He berated himself as they dragged the culprits to one of the nearby working lamp posts, tying them up. Clearly finding some Jane Doe of Gotham was not as easy as he thought, especially when he looked right at her and failed to realize it. His pride as a detective was bruised to a point that he was not sure if it would ever be restored. No way in hell I’m telling Grayson about that, I’ll really never hear the end of it. He glared at the guy with the broken nose. Once again, he was grateful that he wore a red helmet instead of a domino mask. His red cheeks and peeved expression was hidden to all except for himself as the two wrapped up for the evening.

Y/N lay crumpled and slouched on the old sofa of their apartment, exhausted and defeated. How many weeks had it been since all this started? How many more were left? She had just paid the first installment of the bill, a glorious moment, until she saw the damage to her bank account.

Life’s not fair, I get it, but this is cruel and unusual! She sighed for the umpteenth time, sinking into the old cushions a little deeper. He had to have noticed her, there was no way her attempts at anonymity were successful. Not to mention, he literally caught me falling! Ah, then there’s the stroke of genius Cici had. Really, a victim of Joker laughing gas?  Now he’s really going to think I’m insane and refuse to pay! Then again, maybe he’ll pity me enough and actually pay? He did leave a sizable tip between the two of us. She forced herself to sit up straight and crossed her legs.

“No, get it together! You need to talk to him and explain the situation. I’m sure we can come to a reasonable conclusion through proper discourse! We’re both adults, and he clearly has a savior/hero complex because he did help me at the bar. I’m sure he can be reasoned with when he’s not inebriated or asking a billion questions.” She nodded to herself. “The real issue is how do I find him and prove I’m not some nut case?” Her pursed lips slid side to side as she tried to figure out a method to meet up with him again.

Citlalli had suggested she just turn up at Wayne manor or Wayne Enterprises. It was a tempting option, but with her luck, Y/N had a feeling she was going to be labeled as the new arm candy of the billionaire playboy and that was nothing but trouble. The last thing either of them needed was a horde of paparazzi hounding them or breaking into their rickety apartment and potentially breaking whatever they got their hands on.

Was Bruce Wayne handsome? Yes, there was no denying that. But handsome hardly scratched the “worth it” surface. Just look at where she was stuck now thanks to one of his adopted children. No, good looks did not make things worth it, like Citlalli always said. It only made matters worse. “And triple-y so when a Wayne was involved.” She muttered. “What if he never returns to the coffee shop? It’s been a whole month since then and nada!” She threw her hands up in frustration and slouched on the couch once more. “Doesn’t help that Arkham_Knight has been MIA, too! None of the quests are as fun without him. But he did say he’s going to be out of town or something about no gaming access. I wonder if kicking Wonder Boy’s butt is still on the table if he knew who he was.” It was so very tempting to just give in to the siren call, but she knew better than that. For starters, it would ruin the dynamic between the two of them and one or both of them would end up in jail for attacking a trust fund kid like him.

Her thoughts were broken by the clatter of her phone vibrating on the coffee table. Grabbing the device, she hit the green button on the outdated device. “Hey Cici, what’s up?”

“Hey chica, where are you right now?” 

“At the apartment, sprouting on the couch like a potato, why?”

“Can you help me out, pretty please?” Y/N could hear the batting of her lashes through the phone.

“Hmmm, I dunno, I do have a pretty tight schedule between germination, wallowing in my financial crater, and staring out into the darkness.” Y/N tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear as she made her way into the kitchen. “What’s up?”

“Oh, woe is you, so busy.” Citlalli scoffed. “Anyway, I really need your help! I just got word that Ryan had asked Stacy to cover his shift and she agreed. Neither of them confirmed that he would be taking up her shift today, and he's saying that he asked her but never agreed to pick up from her. Yes, it's stupid, and I’m going to have to sit these over privileged brats down and explain to them how swapping shifts work again. But, that's not the point! I need someone in today and I thought you may want to pick up some hours to save up faster. Are you able to?”

“Yeah, ok, I’ll head in. Thanks for the chance, I really appreciate it. You don’t worry your little curly head about this and just enjoy the weekend away with your family. Send me any open shifts, and I’ll cover where I can, cool?”

“Miha, you’re a lifesaver! Thank you so much!” Citllali quickly dissolved into heaps of praises and prayers in Spanish out of sheer relief before she finally hung up the call and texted the information.

Another Saturday night shift left unmanned because why would they honor the hours they said they'd work? Not like I can complain though, I’m hitting overtime now and that means more money for me to get these payments over with. She made her way down the narrow hallway to her bedroom, quickly getting changed into a simple black tee and jeans, with the café apron tucked away into her backpack as she locked up behind herself. 

The shift had started out busy, the store filled with students and professionals burning the night oil fueled by caffeine and pastries. But as the hours slowly ticked by, the number of in-store customers dwindled down alongside the drive-thru patrons. The moon was now up in place of the sun, and no one really dared to be out too late in this part of Gotham. Only the foolish and desperate, like herself, remained at work because the company insisted on a 24-hour shop to help spruce the town.

Did she want to be out here at night? No. Was being at home in the apartment alone any better? No. At least there was surveillance here. Any trouble that could happen would be recording, and she would be safe, sort of. Shrugging off self-preservation, Y/N began to sweep the floors to pass the time. It was better than standing at the counter waiting for no one to come in. It was another dead night, nothing serious was going to happen.

[mangoisms]

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter three: this doesn’t feel right | read chapter two

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 6.6k

━ warnings: robbery, gun gets pulled but nothing happens, brief mention of blood, basically canon-typical violence

━ masterlist

━ a/n: decided to include the last minute scene i wrote between tim and steph, specifically the one at the very end. fair warning, we shift to steph’s pov! also my first time writing for a canon chatacter so be gentle <3

“How’ve things been?”

“Like you don’t know.”

Red Robin, you think, sure has the gall to look as smug as he does right now.

After all, it’s not as if he had a point to prove to you. You very specifically told him he didn’t and that you didn’t care what he did regardless of whether he took your advice or not. 

Despite the look on his face, he manages to say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” you say, a little bit more accusingly than you mean to, following him as he ventures to the candy aisle. 

“Alright,” he concedes, not looking at you as he bends forward to peer at the display of gummy candy. “But just so you know, it ended up taking a life of its own. You’ve made a solid impression so far.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. The list of places we can visit like this without having the cops called or worse is very short.”

“But that perception works.”

“Well, sometimes it’s less about fear and more about plain disapproval. Which also does its own job but… tiring, sometimes.”

That… makes sense. The Flash can walk down the street in Keystone and Central without anyone getting all up in arms about it. These guys can’t. 

“But it’s necessary, no?” Just curiosity. Not agreeing, exactly. 

Red Robin takes two packs of sour gummy worms and straightens, turning away from you to head to the refrigerators at the back. “Doesn’t change the fact that we can find it a little bit tiring. Makes you wonder if you can strike a balance, but in the end, it’s nothing more than an ideal. Fear rules best.”

“I’m sure.”

“Civilian, remember?”

“Yeah, well, this civilian gets to pass judgment since I’m a citizen of this city just like you guys are.” 

Seems like they forget that sometimes. Or Batman does. You’ve heard whispers of metas who found out they had powers and attempted to use them for good. Only to be sharply turned away by Batman. 

There is something to be said about ensuring not just anybody goes out and does what they do, lest they get themselves and others killed, but the impression you’ve gotten is that he doesn’t allow metas in the city. No matter their experience or skill level. The only exception to the rule, so far, is Signal. 

You don’t know. When you were younger, they seemed cool. As you got older, that changed. How could you trust them? How could anyone know if they were trying to do good or if they were just enacting their own convoluted brand of justice? Red Hood’s existence several years ago proved that to you and all the others. 

Even if he was trying to set himself apart from Batman or whatever, the fact remains that everyone in East End, in Park Row, in the Narrows, in the Bowery, feared that they might be next. Didn’t matter if you were innocent or not because one’s definition of innocent differed sharply from his—from theirs. And when you were desperate like most people there were, that changed everything, too. 

Sure, the GCPD is corrupt and so is the justice system and the government and practically every institution in this city, in this country, but… you just don’t know. 

So, maybe he does have a point to prove to you.

Maybe they all do. 

“Well, look,” he starts, surprising you as he turns with two bottles of Zesti in hand. “If you want us to stop coming around, we will. No harm done.”

Fine.

Fine.

Maybe you’ll regret the decision but… it does make them all the more tangible to you. 

“It’s fine. Keep coming around. Might discourage anyone from trying their luck and it keeps my shifts interesting.”

“And it’s all about you, is it?”

“If not, find another Circle K to haunt.”

He laughs. The sound is familiar but nice, in a way. Comforting almost. It’s then you shake your head and turn away sharply, trying to push the feeling away.

There’s that, too. Maybe if you can keep Red Robin coming around long enough, you’ll figure out what exactly it is about him that bothers you, that niggles at you.

It should help take your mind off things. Like your growing concern about Tim’s lack of contact with you. You and Steph have hung out twice since she came back and both times he said he was busy. It shouldn’t be something that bothers you, but the fact that your attempt a few days ago to hang out with him alone for ice cream was also shot down with that same excuse. And of course, his sparse replies to your texts.

But he did reply eventually. Just some agreement about what you said about Signal. Didn’t exactly carry the conversation much further but at least he replied, right? Same goes for the shared group chat between you, him, and Steph.

You haven’t spoken to her about it, either, but you don’t want to.

It’s—complicated.

That’s just what your life feels like these days.

Complicated.

Red Robin keeps coming around.

The others come around, too. You don’t see much of Signal working the night shift but you do see Black Bat again. Even Spoiler, though she keeps her distance for a reason you can’t understand. Not to say she is mean or anything. She just waves at you but she never says much else. You’ll hear her and Black Bat talking quietly, though the words themselves are lost on you no matter how hard you strain your ears.

You keep worrying about Tim, of course, and hanging out with Steph, who squeezes in time to see you in between her internship with social services. 

For a while, things are calm. The vigilantes who pop up grow increasingly familiar and any wariness evaporates. 

Then you get a new face.

The guy walking around the store in the oversized grey hoodie is doing a bad job at robbing you, you think.

Well, he hasn’t actually robbed you. But his hand stays in the pocket of his hoodie, clearly grasping something as he makes a couple circuits around the store. Either scoping it out to see if there is anyone else to worry about or trying to work himself up to it. You think it’s the latter, with how nervous and sweaty he looks. 

Mostly, it’s for your own nerves to think that. 

It’s been a hot minute since the store was robbed and you were held at gunpoint (or knifepoint). You aren’t explicitly allowed to trigger the silent alarm until either of those things make an appearance, so even with the bad feeling in your gut, you can’t yet do anything. 

You are close, though. So very close. 

But you don’t have to wait any longer as he rounds the corner and pulls out the gun. 

Oh, great.

Before he can say anything, before you can say or do something, the door swings open.

When you both look, there is nothing there.

You wince at the rush of hot smelly air from the outside.

“Who—who’s there?!” he yells, then swings the gun back to you. “What did you do?!”

“I didn’t do anything—”

The arrow comes out of nowhere. 

One blink and it’s embedded in his hand, the same hand holding—previously holding—the gun. You flinch as the weapon clatters sharply to the ground, your stomach churning at the sight of the arrow embedded in his hand, blood dripping; he yells in pain, dropping to his knees. 

Then comes the owner of the arrow.

Dressed in black and dark shades of purple, the Huntress is a sight to behold. Her boots are soundless on the tiles. She looks… bored as she talks to someone. Some kind of comm, you guess. 

“Yeah, I know, I’m on my way back, I’m picking up coffee. From the—yeah. So he’s gotten to you, too? Figures. What’s the sound—? Oh, just some idiot trying to rob the store. Yeah, go ahead and call the cops.”

You stare, heart beating so quickly you feel a little dizzy, as she knocks the guy out, leaving him to slump on the ground. She kicks the gun further away from him for good measure.

Finally, she looks at you. 

The Huntress, a figure you’ve only seen in the newspaper or articles online, mostly grainy pictures, is very pretty up close. Shoulder-length dark hair, olive skin, lips painted a deep, pretty shade of purple, and sharp blue eyes, easily revealed through her mask. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, watching you carefully.

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer. “Thank you.”

A slight shrug. “All in a day’s work. Coffee?”

“Um. Over there.”

“Thanks.” 

You watch, befuddled, as the Huntress steps over the body of the now-unconscious robber and strides to the coffee machine, entirely unbothered as she grabs three cups. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know how you take your coffee, O. Give me some credit. Is Cat coming by? No? Alright, just you and BC, then.” 

As the machine sputters out coffee, she comes back over to you. “Do you have any drink carriers?”

“Yeah, they’re over there.”

You point them out, on the other side of the Slurpee machine, and she nods her thanks, grabbing one. 

She returns to the counter a couple minutes later. 

“So, um,” you start, clearing your throat. “Is there anything in particular I should say to the police about this?”

She tilts her head, confused for a moment, before realizing what you mean.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You can say it was me. They’ll want to see the footage, too. Let them.” She pauses, giving you an appraising look. “Is there anyone you would like me to call?”

“Call?” you ask, confused as you ring up the coffees.

She fiddles with a pouch in her utility belt without taking her eyes off you, pulling out a ten dollar bill.

“Red Robin?”

“Red—no. No, I don’t think… I’m fine, I mean.” 

Huntress nods and lets it go, accepting her change. 

“The cops’ll be here in a few,” she says. “I’ll be around until then, so don’t worry.”

 “Thank you, again.”

She gives you the smallest of smiles. “Like I said. All in a day’s—night’s—work.”

You watch her go, one part of you not wanting her to leave, but the other assuaged by her promise to hang around and make sure nothing and nobody bothers you again.

The police arrive a little while after that. By the arrow in the man’s hand, they already know who saved you, but they still demand to see the footage.

“So, it was the Huntress?”

“Yes.”

“Has she ever come by?” 

“No.”

“Have you ever interacted with her anywhere else?”

You pause, barely stopping yourself from narrowing your eyes, because you do not like the accusatory tone this cop is giving you. What did he say his name was? Bullock or something. 

You send a silent apology to Sandra Bullock for having to share her last name with this idiot.

“Well?” he asks, burning cigarette hanging from his lips, arms crossed. The smell of tobacco is nauseating this close. What’s worse is you’re outside while the other guys handle things inside. Even at one in the morning, the heat edges on unbearable and the humidity is even worse, making your skin tacky with it. 

“No,” you say, a tiny bit exasperated. “I have never interacted with her before this. Why would I want to?”

“You were talking to her.”

“She was talking to me. Asked me if I was okay.” 

Unlike any of these assholes who blew in here, sirens wailing, and made you put your hands up as they came in, guns brandished, even though the guy was obviously down for the count. Honestly, they scare you more than the shooter. At least in that moment. These guys can be real trigger-happy.

Now, they’re just a pain in your ass.

You need a Slurpee, you think. No, deserve one. For your troubles.

“It’s cut-and-dry, Harv,” the other detective, Montoya, puts in, having stepped away. She sends you a sympathetic look that just annoys you even more. “Got some calls from a few other convenience stores for suspicious activity. They saw this guy, too, but he always left before doing anything. Guess he finally worked up the nerve to do it here but it didn’t work out well in his favor.”

Bullock grunts. “You run her ID?”

Oh, for the love of—

“She’s clear. We’re good.”

Behind you, two EMTs haul the still-unconscious robber out and into the ambulance, which promptly leaves; a cop with gloves on steps out, the gun in a baggie. 

Montoya asks you a few more questions, obviously trying to make up for Bullock’s brusque manner of speaking, but it’s a futile effort. You still cooperate, however, as politely as you can with the annoyance still burning inside you and this damnable heat. 

Eventually, they leave, called away to some other incident, cars peeling away from the curb, blue-and-red lights flashing, sirens wailing. 

You watch them go, allowing your scowl to come out full-force, your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Bullock’s always like that. It’s not personal.”

“Jesus,” you hiss, heart pounding as you whirl around; it takes a moment for your eyes to pick out Red Robin leaned against the brick apartment building next to the store, his figure mostly cloaked in shadows.

He steps into the light. Despite the nonchalant tone of his previous words, he looks, dare you say, worried.

“Just coming around?”

“No. I heard what happened. Wanted to come and see how you were.”

“Annoyed. And hot. And tired. Come on, let’s go inside. The AC isn’t that great but it’s better than this.”

Red Robin follows you in. You click your tongue upon finding the blood from the guy’s hand still on the tile. So, now you have to clean that, too, on top of the paperwork you have to fill out for the incident. Great.

You jump at the nudge of a knuckle between your shoulder blades. “What—”

“I can clean it up.”

“No, that’s—”

“Let me do it. I have more experience cleaning blood than you.”

“Charming,” you mutter. “But alright, fine. Thanks.”

“Cleaning supplies?”

“First aisle.”

A nod and he turns, cape fluttering behind him.

You rub your forehead, feeling a headache start to form, and continue for the Slurpee machine at the other end of the store. 

A few minutes later, Red Robin joins you, wiping his gloved hands with what looks and smells to be antiseptic pads. 

“Good as new,” he tells you, reaching for a Slurpee cup, too, as you sip at yours. “Like nothing ever happened.”

You sigh. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

“So,” he starts, holding the cup beneath the tube for… the Zesti Cola flavor? What a complete weirdo. 

“Are you—” he stops when he looks at you. “You’re judging me.”

“Who comes in to get a Cola-flavored Slurpee? That’s weird. You might as well just get a bottle of it.”

“Woah. It’s so not the same thing. If there was a drink form of, what do you get? Blue raspberry? Yeah. If there was a drink form of that, would you do that instead? A Slurpee is about the consistency. The slushy factor.”

Okay, that’s fair, but something about everything he just said makes you laugh. Hard.

Maybe the heat is getting to you. Maybe it’s the hysteria setting in. Maybe it’s Red Robin passionately defending his choice in Slurpee flavor and saying shit like ‘The slushy factor’ with a straight face. You don’t know. 

“You’re finally losing it, aren’t you?” Despite his words, Red Robin looks almost relieved. He really was worried, you surmise, which is a… touching thought.

You quell your giggles, shaking your head; though the laughter was nice, your head is really pounding now.

“Here,” he says, digging through a pouch at his utility belt, pulling out a mini packet of… huh. Tylenol.

“Tampered?” you ask, taking it from him, anyway.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already.”

“Again. Charming.” But it still doesn’t change the thoughtfulness of the action; he doesn’t have to. If anything, this stuff is probably best kept for him. Though with their proclivity for putting their lives in danger, you don’t imagine Tylenol would be particularly helpful against gunshot wounds, but still…

“Thanks,” you say, a little quieter now, more meaning in your voice as you tear it open and shake out two pills.

Red Robin shakes his head. “It’s the least I can do.”

You can tell he means it. Which is, again, both touching and maybe a little bit confusing, too.

But trying to decipher why he does what he does is a futile effort.

This is, after all, the same guy who dresses up and goes out fighting the worst of the worst night after night.

Best not to look too closely. Who knows what you might find.

Despite your best efforts, Steph finds out about what happened. Something about the newspaper, which is odd, because you don’t recall seeing the news there—honestly, much more crazy shit happens overnight in Gotham. Robberies are old news.

But either way, you can’t complain too much because you are appreciative of her coddling the next day, which includes, but is not limited to, ordering takeout, burrowing on your crappy couch together, and watching old 2000s movies.

The only thing missing is—

“He said he was busy but he sent me the money for takeout. To make up for it.”

You purse your lips but don’t say anything. That you don’t want his money. You just want—

Nothing.

“We don’t need him,” Steph says determinedly in the next second. Which is a departure from what she usually says—that you’ll see Tim eventually, that his work at WE will let up. You don’t have the energy to ponder why.

You sigh, sinking further into the couch. Steph is warm next to you. You can smell her shampoo. Jasmine.

“I guess not,” you concede in a mumble.

You can’t do anything but concede. After all, it’s your initial avoidance of him at the start of June that caused this, right? And he keeps dodging your calls, your requests to hang out—points in which you might’ve been able to clear the air, apologize for it, but… no.

It’s not like you could track him down. You know the apartments he lives in—down in Old Gotham, in a much more expensive building than your shitty one here in Coventry. But sometimes he spends time at the manor, too, up in Bristol and you can’t ambush him there. You couldn’t. That would be too much. Right?

Trying to find him at WE is a lost cause, too. Not just because they have three given locations throughout the city but because you wouldn’t know if he was in or not.

Or maybe you’re just looking for the easy way out.

Complicated.

Why does it have to be so complicated?

“You look tired.”

“Thank you, Red, because that’s what every girl loves to hear.”

“Just a simple observation,” he responds, leaning against the counter, eating a kolach. Your Slurpee cups sweat in the mid-June heat, creating rings of condensation on the scuffed and scratched counter. You watch a droplet slowly roll down, joining the ring of water.

Your eyelids are heavy, dragging with each blink. A dull headache reminds you of your restless sleep and you’re sure the bags under your eyes tell it to the world, too. To Red Robin, specifically.

He finishes his kolach, crumpling the wrapper in one hand, looking steadily at you all the while.

“What?”

“Is it because of what happened last week?” he asks and his voice is frightfully gentle in a way you are not emotionally prepared to deal with.

“No,” you say quickly. “It’s not that.”

The occasional nightmare bothers you but that’s normal. You can deal with that.

“Then?”

You shake your head. God, you are exhausted. You fold your arms on the counter and bury your face there.

It’s quiet for a minute.

The refrigerators hum at the back. The AC makes an odd clanging noise before it turns on. Somewhere outside, a dog barks.

“I’m a good listener,” Red hedges after a minute. “Or so I’ve been told.”

“It’s stupid,” you say, voice muffled.

“Why?”

“Because it’s, like, stupid twenty-year-old drama and not, I dunno, the latest rumors on drug trades.”

Red laughs. It’s a pleasant sound that makes something inside you unwind.

“You should be relieved to hear I am up to date on the latest rumors on drug trades. And also, believe it or not, I do like to talk about things other than crime.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

A soft chuckle. It sounds almost affectionate.

“Come on. Whatever it is, it’s making you lose sleep. That’s not good.”

“Losing some sleep isn’t the end of the world.”

“I don’t know. Feels like it might be for you.”

You grunt, an old memory from Keystone niggling at you. You set it aside for the moment.

“It’s nothing,” you say eventually. “It’s just—nothing.”

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” he remarks. “But if you don’t want to talk about it now, that’s cool, too. If you ever do—”

“Dr. Red, to the rescue.”

He laughs. “Well, I’m not a licensed therapist and I can’t promise my advice is sound, either, so…”

“Don’t sue you?”

“Like you even could. But still, I’m here.”

You want to ask why but that might be too much for you right now.

You let yourself settle with some generic explanation, that he is obligated to ask that as a vigilante, as someone who is generally supposed to be concerned with the wellbeing of the citizens of this city. And also he is trying to prove some kind of point, so this is part of that. 

“So,” you quickly say to change the topic. “What are the latest rumors on the drug trade?”

He laughs. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You look tired.”

“Thank you, Flash, that’s exactly what I’d like to hear.”

 “Just a simple observation,” he says, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Well, rest assured, I have Tim and Steph on my case about it. They’ve both demanded a video call with me tomorrow despite me telling them I am alive and well. Apparently, just saying I’m alive isn’t reassuring. Can’t imagine why. That’s more than enough in Gotham…”

Mother hens, the both of them.

And Flash, too, apparently, though he does a better job of covering it up.

Off near the coffee machine, a melodic hum of Dancing in the Dark, the song currently playing lowly overhead, reaches you. You tune into it, the sound lulling you, both because it’s pleasant and because the song makes you think of Tim and his love for Bruce Springsteen (largely in honor of his late father, Jack Drake). Because of that, you totally miss Flash’s next words.

“—here? Oh, Jesus, Piper! Stop humming. You’re distracting her.”

“Oh, sorry!” comes the apologetic and still melodic voice of the Pied Piper. More normal now, though, letting you shake your head and focus again. Piper comes around the aisle, a big cup of coffee in hand; he gives you a handsome and apologetic smile that you wave off.

“It’s fine—what were you saying, Flash?”

He wiggles his fingers at you. “I’m just curious about those two, that’s all, since they seem very worried about you, oh, practically all the time. Not that it’s unwarranted, of course.”

“I’m fine, Flash.”

He gives you a look. “I don’t believe that but seems like they got it covered so, I’ll let it go. I’m still curious about them, though. What are we talking here? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Both boyfriend and girlfriend? That’s cool, I don’t judge.”

“Are you—what? In regards to who?”

“You, obviously.”

You shake your head quickly. “No. No, absolutely not. Tim and Steph dated when they were teens, they’re exes. That’s weird.”

A bit of an uncomfortable discussion, too, if only because you are… too aware of your own attraction to Tim. A different kind of attraction. One that has you constantly admiring him. Or had you, back when you were in Gotham. With Steph, you know she is stupidly pretty but it doesn’t fluster you.

It's… nothing.

(It has to be nothing.)

“Feelings are a natural part of life, kiddo! Nothing weird about it. Have they been weird about it?”

“We’ve never even discussed the remote possibility of me dating either of them—because that would never happen in a million years.”

“Well, if they’re friends, then it shouldn’t be a problem. You don’t get many exes who can stay friends after a breakup. Right, Pipes?”

“It’s true,” he says easily, and, hold on a fucking minute, is… is the Flash implying that he and Piper dated?

“Yes, we did,” Flash answers and oh, you said that out loud, and this is… a bit of Flash lore that you aren’t sure you ever needed to know.

But still. He continues, shooting a grin at Piper. “And we’re still great friends! Me, him, and my wife!”

“Wife?” you choke out.

Great. More lore.

Piper rolls his eyes. “Flash.”

“Okay, I didn’t mean to give that away but it’s fine, we can trust her. She’s a friend.”

The words would be sweet if you still weren’t compartmentalizing the fact that he is actually married and… apparently dated the Pied Piper at one point. The Pied Piper who used to be part of the Flash’s rogue gallery, then reformed. Huh.

“You—” you point at him for good measure “—have a wife? Someone actually married you?”

Piper bursts out laughing. It’s a pleasant sound you could get lost in… No! Focus.

Flash looks affronted. “I’ll have you know I am excellent husband material!”

Piper, still chuckling, looks at you and gives a small shrug. “It is true. The superhero community isn’t very ripe with it, for reasons I’m sure you can figure out, so, Flash is a bit of a standout in that area.”

“Because the bar is low.”

“Not true,” Flash interjects. “Superman is married. You know how hard it is to compete with Superman? It’s hard. But I manage it. We’re nearly neck-and-neck in terms of husband material, I’d say.”

He ignores Piper’s snort of laughter and leans in conspiratorially. “But you know who isn’t married? Batman. He’s not husband material. He’s not even boyfriend material.”

You look at Piper, who shrugs. “Never met the guy, thankfully, but from what I’ve heard from Flash, I have to agree. The tall, dark, and broody thing can be attractive but—”

“He’s just a sourpuss,” Flash finishes. “No sense of whimsy whatsoever.”

“Oh, and you have that?”

Piper laughs as Flash sputters. “I can have fun! Why do you think I hang around you?”

You laugh. “That’s… Alright. Fine.”

Flash cocks his head suddenly, no doubt listening to the police frequency he tunes into. Piper fishes out a twenty for everything and tells you to keep the change. In the next moment, the both of them are gone, leaving you with a sharp gust of wind and arcing blue lightning that makes your skin break out in goosebumps.

Okay, then.

Your video call is the next day—Saturday—and it goes as well as you think it will.

“You look like shit.”

Steph is more blunt about it, but the sight of Tim’s grimacing face on your laptop screen shows he very much agrees.

“Thank you, my dear friends, it is lovely to see you, too, yes, I’m doing quite well, thank you. And you?”

“Okay, fair,” Tim says, holding up a hand, “but don’t lie and saying you’re doing ‘quite well.’ Someone doing ‘quite well’ doesn’t look as exhausted as you look.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “And you wonder why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Or boyfriend,” Steph tacks on immediately, not one to miss an opportunity to tag him. 

He rolls his eyes. You shuffle around, freshly showered, looking around for your lotion, then remember it’s in the bathroom.

“Give me a sec,” you say to them, heading over to it.

The audio of the video call feeds out from the speakers of your laptop, so you can easily hear their next conversation.

“It’s so hard, isn’t it?” Steph asks

“What is?” comes Tim’s confused question.

“The urge to resist wiring her money. It’s written all over your face, duckie.”

“Like you don’t want to, either,” he shoots back.

A pause.

“Maybe we can—"

“I can hear you!” you call as you go back to your desk, bottle of lotion in hand. They look a tad sheepish as you settle in your chair. “And look, fine, I won’t say to a couple bucks—"

“Define a couple bucks,” Tim says.

“Max twenty—for dinner—” as soon as you say that, they’re both scrambling for their phones. You grimace. “Guys, come on, it’s not that bad.”

Tim gives you a concerned look. “Even your bags have bags.”

You blink. “Did you just… quote Spongebob?”

Steph grins in the other frame. “He’s finally cultured.”

Then they both return their focus to their phones.

A second later, yours chimes with notifications from Cashapp, twenty dollars from each of them.

“Guys… everything is fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Steph says stubbornly. “But that’s fine. You know you can rely on us, right? We’re friends. That’s what friends do. I know Timothy over here doesn’t always set the greatest examples for it—”

“Thanks, Steph.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies without missing a beat. “Anyway, let us help.”

“You’re already helping,” you soothe. “So, it’s okay. This semester is going to be tough but it’ll be worth it. And after this, it’ll be easier, okay? You guys are here now—”

“Not in a way that really matters,” Tim mutters.

“Which is not an invitation to come over here,” you warn—him, mostly. Steph would go along with it but he’d be the instigator.

They both pout.

You smile. Sometimes, it’s hard to handle the fact that you have friends like this. Friends who care so deeply, who love you so much, it feels hard to breathe. Because you know you love them just as much.

“I love you guys,” you say next, because you have to say it, they have to know; it’s hard for you, sometimes, just because it scares you, but after everything, you know how important it is for the people you love to know you love them.

They soften, echoing the words, and that’s enough for you.

Of course it is.

You don’t have much. No parents, no other family.

But you have them.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

A slow blink. “Updating Redbird’s security protocols?”

The garage of Tim’s townhouse smells sharply of oil and rubber. But he isn’t elbow-deep in the engine today, just seated off to the side, laptop perched on his lap and hooked up to its system. ‘Updating’ it. God knows why. The Redbird’s security protocols are just as stringent as the Batmobile’s.

Jason once regaled them with his plan, way back when, to blow it up. Bruce included. And how he went about it.

“It’s got safeguards like crazy, right? Even when it’s idle or shut down. Come up to it, fire a gun, launch a missile—doesn’t matter. Not gonna touch it before the security protocols kick in. It can sense you on thermal, air currents, video recognition, all of it.”

“So, how’d you get past it?”

“SEAL-grade wetsuit. Invisible to thermal with reflection fibers that play hell with video. But the biggest thing? Going slow. And I mean slow. Like five seconds per inch slow.”

The insane attention to detail and paranoia runs in the family, obviously.

Tim had sat in for that. Stephanie remembers the look on his face. Begrudging respect, combined with a familiar twitchiness that told her he was absolutely dying to run out and start updating his stuff.

Question everything. That’s what Bruce says.

Tim tries to separate himself from it. He really does. It gets tiring, exhausting, to live like that. But old habits die hard and his big brain precedes him sometimes. Wondering at the possibilities, at the million-in-one scenarios.

Ordinarily, Stephanie has more sympathy for him. Really. But right now, after your phone call about his little visit to Circle K…

She’s pissed.

“Don’t play dumb,” she says, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“What is it that I’m playing dumb about?” he asks, averting his attention back to his laptop, keys clacking quickly, pausing momentarily as he takes a swig of Red Bull.

She tells him.

At the sound of your name, he stops.

But now that she’s started, she can’t stop. “Visiting her? As Red Robin? What are you thinking, Tim?”

The clack of keys resumes. The set of his gaze on the laptop screen is very intentional now. Avoiding her.

“It’s nothing, Steph,” he says and she almost believes it. But she knows him, so she doesn’t. “It’s harmless.”

“So, why won’t you hang out with us? Her? Because I assume you’re also avoiding her individually.”

A little sigh. Impatient. “I’m not avoiding her. I really was busy. Have been busy. You know how the heat messes with the city.”

It’s the excuse that bothers Stephanie.

Tim is making some kind of choice here. Choosing to favor Red Robin over himself, over Tim Drake, and it makes no sense. Red Robin isn’t your best friend. He isn’t even your favorite vigilante. (Black Canary is. She agrees, though it would be nice for Spoiler to get some spotlight but that is neither here nor there.)

You know who is your best friend? (One of them, anyway.)

Tim freakin’ Drake.

Stephanie knows why he’s avoiding you all of a sudden. The connection will be too easy to make. It’s why she—as Spoiler—keeps her distance. Tucks away her hair, hides her face even more, when she and Cass visit Circle K.

Even though! They had talked about telling you. Stephanie wanted to tell you so badly. You know who her father is. Was. You know how her mom used to be like. You know everything and you never once judged. You were, to be sure, a bit wary of them—the vigilantes—but most were. You wouldn’t turn them away if you knew.

If there is anything Stephanie knows, it is that.

But then she went away to Metropolis for a week and a half and suddenly, he’s visiting you as Red Robin. And he’s not trying to ease you into it, not trying to help you latch onto some clues, to make it easier—because they’d discussed that, too!—he’s doing it because… Well, she doesn’t really know. But there is a reason. She knows that much. A big reason.

It makes no sense to her, considering his feelings. Complicates things unnecessarily. Especially with how he’s avoiding you because of it, because he apparently got cold feet on telling you the truth.

And it’s the excuse… it’s the excuse that pisses her off.

Their relationship, back when they were kids, had some questionable origins. It did. Stephanie did things she wasn’t proud of. He did things he wasn’t proud of. It was messy. She tries not to kick herself about it—about being a silly girl in love, awed at the attention of a boy like Robin, knowing he was dating a girl (Ariana Dzerchenko, her name was, she would later find) and making moves on him despite that, moves that he always, always went along with. Like two magnets that couldn’t help but fall together.

Don’t get her wrong! The blame is not solely on her. It’s on him, too. She shouldn’t have pushed. He shouldn’t have went along with it, knowing he had a girlfriend, too. He shouldn’t have held his knowledge of her identity over her head the way he did. He isn’t mean-spirited at heart but he had an advantage over her. He knew she was Stephanie Brown. She knew him only as Robin and nothing else. Not until later on that would change and that… that was another mess entirely.

But they were dumb and young. Stephanie tries not to hold it against herself. They know better now. She knows better now. Knows what she deserves.

But this feels too close to him crossing that line.

No, he has crossed that line.

Given one persona up for another.

Approaching you as Red Robin, while you know nothing of him, and doing god knows what…

Someone is going to get hurt.

Last time, it was him. The circumstances, Bruce’s unceremonious reveal of his identity to her—a mistake, an egregious overstep—it all culminated in Tim feeling betrayed. Betrayed that Bruce would reveal that to her without Tim’s say so, without even asking him if he was okay with her knowing. Betrayed that Stephanie went along with it.

This time?

Stephanie feels it in her bones.

The person who is going to get hurt is you.

You, clueless about these lives they lead, clueless as Tim monopolizes your time as Red Robin, all the while you have no idea it’s him. You, her best friend. Stephanie loves you to the end of the universe.

She doesn’t want to see you hurt.

The mere thought of it, of the potential fallout, leaves a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Steph. Steph, it’s fine.”

She blinks, coming back to herself. Tim is standing in front of her now, dark brows knitted together, blue eyes intent on her face. Concerned.

“You’re lying to her.”

“We’ve been lying to her.”

“Not like this,” she says quietly. “Not this way. You’re… This is too much, Tim. I don’t understand why you’re doing this. What happened?”

“Nothing,” he says. For what it’s worth, to anyone else, it sounds believable. But like she said. Stephanie knows him. For better or for worse.

And on that end, she also knows he is not going to budge. No matter how much Stephanie wants to drill this into him, grab him by the shoulders and make her point. Once he’s made a decision, he commits.

Or more like he’s dug himself into this grave and he doesn’t (can’t?) want to get out.

“This is a mistake,” she says. “And you know it. I just hope you actually try to fix it sooner rather than later. Because if you break her heart, I’m going to break something of yours.”

Stephanie loves Tim. He’s a great friend. They’ve had their ups and downs—even discounting their relationship—but they’re solid. They are.

But she loves you, too. So much so it sometimes feels like she’s going to burst with it. She’s never had something like that, like this, and in the end, she doesn’t want to choose, but Tim knows better. And because he knows better, you are her first priority.

Even worse, he doesn’t seem bothered by the threat. Relieved, if anything.

“I’m counting on it, Steph.”

Which is so unfair in so many ways (fix it, she wants to yell, don’t rely on me to come clean up when shit hits the fan—do it yourself!) but she’s had enough of this conversation and all the ways this can go wrong.

Maybe he will turn around. Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But she doesn’t think so. He won’t. Not until the consequences of this, of his lies, of his excuses, come hit him in the face.

She wishes it weren’t like that—knowing what it will result in.

But some things you just can’t change.

She knows better with Tim.

She really, really does.

reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @peachesona @knoxx-seresinbradshaw @kikis-writing-service @sweetistic @soundsfunbutno @ginevraxrogers @fridaenpina

[ask to be tagged! either in my inbox or here! ^_^]

[galaxymagitech]

Why does Batman keep his no-kill rule? The five reasons I can think of are:

He has a deep regard for all human life, no matter how evil.

He believes that everyone can be rehabilitated and change.

He’s terrified that crossing this particular line would cause him to lose control completely.

He thinks that as a vigilante, he cannot chose who lives and dies and remain just; ie: he can’t be executioner without legal backing.

He’s fallen prey to the sunk cost fallacy.

I personally feel like it’s a combination of these. The versions of Batman I actually like seem to be mostly Reasons 1 and 2. BtAS Bruce genuinely cares about people and sees the good in them, and would never want to extinguish that potential.

Reason 3 is a legitimate concern, and one that Bruce has used again and again. It often reads as more of an excuse, but he doesn’t have the duty to kill, and if this is the line that keeps him sane, then I understand him sticking to it. But it doesn’t explain why he takes such strong measures to stop others from killing, especially when Jason and Dick have attempted to kill the Joker. I feel like this is the Slippery Slope fallacy to the extreme (“if I don’t revive the Joker then I’ll start thinking it’s okay not to save someone and if I start thinking that’s okay then I won’t save someone and if I do that then I’ll start thinking it’s okay to indirectly cause a death and if I do that then I’ll start killing”).

Reason 4 seems illogical to me. Sure, he has no right to kill, but he also has no right to enter crime scenes, beat people up, and cause extensive injuries. Killing as a line for what he has the “right” to do feels somewhat arbitrary, especially when killing is legal in self-defense.

But in a lot of Bruce’s worst moments, it really feels like Reason 5 is winning out. Especially with the Joker. He’s so invested in letting the Joker live, especially after Jason’s death, that he’ll revive him and protect him even at the cost of hurting Jason. He’s compelled to protect the Joker because he didn’t make the choice to kill him before. He can’t kill because that was a line he set for himself and now it’s one that he has to follow, Because if he was wrong about the no-kill rule? Then he’s made some awful decisions. So he has to be right, and he has to enforce that rule on those around him too, to prove it to himself.

[dragonfirerogue-writes]

Wednesday x vigilante reader where wednesday starts to investigate them after being beaten in a sparring battle

Wednesday x vigilante!Reader

The fencing club was one of Wednesday's favorite activities. It was a perfect excuse to enact violence. And she was good at that. But it seemed like someone else was good at it too.

While Bianca was the captain of the team, the top fencer was you. Wednesday could see it. You didn't stand out, but she could see how precise your footwork was. Each strike was calculated and measured to ensure that you were just over the standard. So Wednesday bided her time and kept watch on you.

Finally, the time came where she can adequately test you. You were paired up with her for a sparring match and she was ready to put you through the ringer. For once, Wednesday was going to allow herself to feed into that bloodlust brimming in her soul.

And you killed the feeling.

You played it safe. You fought defensively. Wednesday was the one to make all the strikes while you parried and threw in the occasional strike. Even still, neither got a point on the other. With a frustrated sigh, the goth dropped her stance and took her mask off. Confused, you followed suit.

"What? Is there something wrong?" You asked. You genuinely weren't sure what you did wrong. It wasn't until Wednesday surged forward with her blade did you let your instincts take hold.

Her attacks were relentless. You were barely able to keep up in your stunned state. Eventually, you were able to push the goth away and catch your breath. Wednesday took her stance once more, glaring at you. With a resigned sigh, you understood and took your own stance. The battle begins.

Rather than wait to defend, you launch forward with a thrust. Wednesday parries and counters, which you evade. The fight continues as such with the two of you trading blows while the others watch. They knew the unspoken rule with your masks off.

This fight ends with first blood.

You could feel your body begin to tire. The constant onslaught didn't allow for a proper break. While you tried to break the rhythm, Wednesday was quick to pick it back up. But you see that the relentless battle was also weighing down on the goth. Her strikes were slowing and reaction times were waning. This fight will end soon.

Suddenly, an opening made itself known and you took it. Your saber soars and cuts Wednesday's cheek. Everyone is shocked, including your opponent. The spell breaks when she reaches for her wound and looks at the blood that appears on her fingers. As soon as her eyes shoot towards you, you bow and dart out of the room.

-----+++++-----

It's been a week since the duel and you've managed to avoid Wednesday through it all. Your nighttime excursions helped to keep your mind off the bout as well. You managed to go out to the nearest city and let out some frustrations. No one had ever caught you leaving or returning since you began. At least until tonight.

You enter your room to reveal Wednesday staring at you from your desk chair.

"W-what? Wednesday? What are you doing here?"

"Where have you been?" She asks. She was flipping through some papers you couldn't see.

"Out. I don't need to explain myself to you."

"Maybe you will when I let everyone know about your extracurricular activities." Files fly through the air and land at your feet. You could see news articles about an unknown vigilante saving the day before police could. There were even actual pictures of the hero. Pictures of you.

"How..."

"I just followed you. You're good with stealth, but mine is better."

You pick up the pile from the floor and step towards the goth.

"You can't tell anyone about this. I just wanna keep my head down until graduation."

Wednesday just stands up and steps right to you. Despite her slight figure, you're incredibly intimidated. "If you don't want me to disclose your... Side job, then let me use your skills in my investigations. Work with me and I will say nothing."

You thought about it. While being around Wednesday would get your name more notice than you wanted, it would've been considerably less than your vigilante job getting out. With a sigh, you relented.

"As long as I can still help people out, I'll work with you when you need me." Wednesday smirked when she heard your answer.

"Excellent."

[intertexts]

FUUUUCK DUDE. JUST FINISJED THE ARMSMASTER INTERLUDE. OK first of all mannequin is so fucking scary and this is made even worse by the fact that he a) doesn't talk and b) doesn't MAKE ANY SOUNDS AT ALL????? right out of my nightmares I swear. ANYWAY. Colin Thoughts Incoming (I hate him I hate him i hate him I hate him) (<< in denial)

ok first my collection of screenshots.

I fucking LOVE when a villain/hero "we're not so different you and i" confrontation is written well. holy shit. wake up arm man you fucked up big time!!! now the serial killers want your ass on their team!!! also. the suicidality of it all. i know he said he was doing that to provoke him but. damn colin.

I feel like they're setting up for an armsmaster villain arc and . holy shit???? I was honestly expecting him to go rogue at some point anyway but I thought thay would be as a vigilante and not. FUCKING SLAUGHTERHOUSE NINE. but maybe he won't join them idk. seems like they don't take no for an answer very easily though. THE THING IS I can see him going villain arc considering his personality and arrogance up to this point PLUS his dissatisfaction with the prt as a result of his forced retirement slash house arrest .

BUT. I can't see him doing that without dragon. and I don't think she's exactly... capable? of doing that? bc in her chapter she talked about needing to follow her code and follow certain rules hardwired into her system so idk if she can actually break those???? HOWEVER. IT SEEMS LIKE. SHES GOING TO TELL HIM ABOUT BEING AN AI. which. holy shit. *and* she was thinking about using the prosthetics she used to fix his face on herself????????? dragon building herself a body pog???? maybe she's gonna try to recruit him as a replacement <guy who created her whose name I can't remember rn> and have him mess with her code bc hes a tinker and seems to be familiar with a lot of her systems already. hellyes.

anyway if DRAGON goes villain arc I think we're all majorly fucked because she runs the fucking birdcage. that would be so bad for everyone and everything . good lord. I support women's wrongs though.

GOOD FUCKING CHAPTER. armsmaster is such an interesting character I hate how intrigued i am by him. his and dragons dynamic is so important 2 me I wasn't expecting to like both of them so much.... man.

YEAAAHHHH OH MAN!!!! hehehehe :]]] mannequin is so cool i think.... heart eyes. he's not my favorite of the s9 but he for SURE is one of my favorite capes conceptually i think he's so neat.... thing that isn't even human anymore!!! its such a neat detail that he's absolutely silent i think. so cool...

LOVE THE REST OF THESE ARM MASTER THOUGHTS!!!!!!!!!! i will not speak on them but as always. hehehe. i love ur thought processes here im giggling & shit :33ccc u will see!! u will see!! i love dragon though... she & armsmaster genuinely some of my favorite characters in worm they're so fucking good their dynamic is so genuine & delightful... my parents tbh.

ALSO!! as long as youre here. do u have any thoughts on how this arc is going to pan out? who else the s9 r gonna try and recruit/what that would look like/etc etc etc?

[anime-simp-0]

when bakugo’s anti-villain s/o and him fight

i got this idea from the opposite version of this i did, bakugo’s anti-hero s/o. it really had me thinking how bakugo would react to someone who fits the anti-villain archtype; someone who has the noble goals but their means of attainment are evil. in most cases, the reader or watcher hopes for their vanquish.

well for starters, just like heroes have a ton of different sub-archtypes, so do anti-villains. in the most basic sense, i’m basing mine off of the concept that they have the right end-goal but not the right methods they are going about so i guess you could kinda consider them like mr. ferret boy draco malfoy. he, by nature, is evil. he has toxic traits and is overall a less then decent individual. however, if tiktok has shown anything, it is that people can still obsess over him. sighs in dracotok for mine, i'm considered y/n as someone at the crossroad of anti-hero and anti-villain but is dangerous close to going dark.

regardless, in terms of bakubitch’s s/o, i dont think this makes them a bad person. just misguided. stain’s ideology was exposed to them at a vulnerable time and it just stuck and they turned in to a vigilante because no one had validly proven to them a better option. which led to constantly fooling around in the shadows and kicking ass but mainly for the purpose of catching twofaced hero’s that are actually really shady people, so all around a moral goal but not heroic action.

as to how bakugo would react to this, I think that it really depends on what stage Bakugo you are dating. Middle School? High school? Starting Hero? Experienced? And a large part of this differentiation is what he experienced at UA.

In middle school, he thought heroes were the good guys and they always did they right thing and he was going to be the #1. He was gonna be so perfect that they had no choice except to give him the title of perfection.

And then, UA happened. And he experienced the USJ and he saw firsthand what villains are like. Low level thugs, sure. But those villains didn't care if they killed everyone in that building. And then to see a monster so strong it could get hit by All Might at full force and not bat an eye. That's not even mentioning what happened at the summer camp. Not only was he kidnapped but had his life continuously toyed with for hours and the heroes took their sweet ass time to save him. All because they wanted to follow protocol, and he still managed to get away in the end. I don't think the protocol issues get any better with time either.

I think the older he gets, the more they piss him off. Because he's seen more. he's seen the damage wasting time can do. and i guarantee you there was a decision he makes in the future that costs someone their life because he decided to follow protocol and he never lets himself forget it. because that blood isn't on the commission's hands. it's on his. he was the one that made the call to listen to what the high and might's decided.

The experience also changes his definition of right and wrong. He starts to see everything through a different lens when it comes to why villains do what they do. Are they stealing from places because it's fun or the way they survive? Are they stealing drugs because it's their hustle or because it's the only way they can provide. He also starts to see heroes in a different light as well. Are they saving people because they want to keep the city safe or because of publicity? Do they actually care about protecting individuals or is it about the money? And then you have the antivillains and antiheroes and all he can think is about the person who lost their life because he decided to follow the rules. But antiheroes and antivillains and vigilantes don't care about that kinda stuff. They don't have to follow the rules that they didn't sign up for. They don't have to go through the chain of command or rules and regulations. They have the freedom to do the right thing with no consequences ( unless they get caught that is ).

Truly though, I don't think you were aware Bakugo was a hero when you first started dating him, just like I don't think he was aware that you were a antivillain/vigilante. but i could totally see you both finding out because you were running from heroes after some shit and he managed to catch you and you both had a moment where you recognized each other and he couldn’t let you get caught so he let you go and stalled to buy you time. which, yea, lead to a pretty interesting fight. but you managed to talk and make it work. he made you promise to stop fucking around as long as he followed up on his end about taking care of the shitty heroes so you didn’t have to. having said that, i think that he also is still very strong in his beliefs that heroes are good. sure not all of them, but enough where being completely against heroes annoys the living shit out of him. so i think that many arguments would stem from you not liking some of the heroes he works with. whether that’s you doing the signature smart ass lines that make them uncomfortable or intentionally making it known you don’t like them.

hence why it was currently 1:32 in the morning and instead of being in bed with the hot headed prick you call your boyfriend, you were on the couch.

the heated words from earlier still ring in your ears as you lay on the couch, looking out of the window and onto the city that lay below, glistening and active even at this time of night. a thin blanket was wrapped around your legs as bakugos shirt that was a few sizes too big left your legs exposed to the cold air in his apartment. you would have left after everything that was said but he had picked you up from your apartment and brought you to his earlier that day so now you were stranded and far too stubborn to ask for help from your friends, knowing they would want details you weren’t comfortable disclosing yet. instead, you decided to sleep on the couch and calm yourself by staring into the glass pane.

the details of your fight were still cloudy in your mind, but one thing was for sure. you both were not on good terms. after you made a backhanded joke about one of the heroes he had become friendly with, it was all over. it started with just about the one guy, then it became how you never liked anyone from his job, then it turned into you hating everything heroes and then, finally, bakugo said the thing that really set you off. “if you hate heroes so much, then do you even give a shit about me? if all heroes are so damn bad!” the things that came out of your mouth next were a mix of rapid fire insults and gabs at him, turning into a full out war of verbal assaults over something as simple as you not likely one of his work buddies.

it made you so angry, it almost made you cry. not because you cared. what? no! of course not! i mean, why would you, right? it’s not like the most important person in your life insulted you and one of the only things you truly believe in before having the audacity to ask if you even loved him-… oh wait… no. no, yea that is what made you cry. you sighed and rubbed your eyes, wiping away the tears before they had a chance to fall. you were angry at yourself. if only you hadn’t said anything. if only you didn’t snap back at him. if only you never said you didn’t like his new work partner. if only-

the sound of the bedroom door opening cause your attention before a bakugo and frankly quite grumpy and agitated bakugo stepped out. but the sour expression faded off his face when he saw the tear that you hadn’t managed to wipe away.

“what do you want” you muttered before turning back towards the window and, as subtly as you could, wiping away the dampness from your cheek.

he went to speak multiple times before pausing with a slight growl and shuffling towards you. his sweats hung low on his waist and his hands were bunched up in his pockets as he flexed them, standing next to you on the couch.

“look…” he sighed. this kinda thing was never easy for him. he spent so much time condensing his feelings, being able to openly talk about them was weird on so many level that even after a year and a half of you two dating it still made him feel weird. “i.. shouldn’t have used your stuff against you… what you believe and support is what you do and… i can’t control that or change it. it’s just… i was pissed and wasn’t thinking straight… and i know that’s not a good enough reason to hurt you, i’m not saying it is i just…” he sighed again before taking a hand out from his pocket and rubbing his face “i know you love me, okay? i know that. you prove it everyday you deal with my hero shit or help with my cuts and scraps after a bad day or even just, fuck, staying. you didn’t leave. and i love you for that, okay? i do. i fucking love you with everything i have.”

your tempted to turn to look at him, to break and let a tear fall while you sit there but you don’t. he groans softly before taking his hand and lightly pressing his fingertips to your chin and turning your face towards him. “i’m sorry baby… i mean it. im sorry” he leans down and softly kisses your head before pulling away.

“don’t fucking do it again” is all you can manage before resting your head against him as his arms wrap around you.

“trust me, i don’t plan on it”

“i mean it katsuki” your voice was cold and sent a chill straight to his spine. “don’t question my love again. and don’t use my opinions against me. i love you enough to be with you even though you’re a hero but i love myself enough to walk away if I need to.” you paused and look up at him “don’t put me in a position where i have to be the bad guy. we both know i play the part too well.”

he nodded solemnly before taking a deep breathe. out of everything you had said to him in the last couple hours, that he knew was true. you were always labeled as a villain. not only by your peers but you family as well. when you manifested your quirk and it was far more powerful then anyone else in your family trees, they immediately wanted you to be a hero. to make money for them and be popular. and the second you said no, they turned on you so fast it gave you whiplash. you were so used to being put in positions where you had no choice but to be the bad guy. to do the non glamorous or even cruel thing to survive. he had become your safe space, but even he wasn’t foolish enough to believe you couldn’t live without him. hell, it was the other way around.

he had been laying in bed since you had had your fight, tossing and turning in the cold sheets and reaching for a body that wasn’t there, searching for warmth that was on a couch instead of wrapped in silk with him. he had tried to fight himself on it for hours now. but as much pride as he had, his ego crumbles before you. you mattered more than that to him. you mattered more then being right or proving a point. he needed you. you had become such an important part of him that the idea of you being gone made his heart stop. he was nauseous at the thought of opening the bedroom door and finding your things missing and shoes no longer by the door.

but right now with you in his arms, all he wanted to do was hold you. not for another minute or another hour. forever. he never wanted to breathe without you in his arms. he didn’t want to know what it felt like for you to exist without him. so he looked down at you slowly, his thumb rubbing back and forth against your skin as he held you against him. “I know…” he rested his head against yours, “i know.”

[kazubabes]

why is it always "eat the rich" until batman comes along. he's rich. he doesn't stop the cycle in gotham. he just beats up the same people over and over again, and the same violent crimes are committed over and over again, and all he does is. keep beating up the people over and over again.

this turned into a bit of a rant/how i kind of see batman, and while i do respect other people's opinions, i think. this is more for me to get out than for anyone else to actually read.

i read gotham war ( not a fan. i think it mischaracterized everyone in order to praise batman and make him seem right even though? pretty sure that guy's on the verge of a mental breakdown, but i also despise that excuse in general because he's always looking at things in a black and white way and trying to make sure everyone follows his rules. even the fucking police commisioners. he should not have talked to renee like that. ) and it just... selina was fairly successful in redirecting henchmen into more non-violent crimes and not hurting the poor of gotham. okay, fine. while i get the point bruce is making where it's "there shouldn't be any crime", it's kind of a really unrealistic goal and if she can turn people to non-violent crimes, then maybe eventually she can turn them to no crime at all. things like that have to be done in steps. batman just thinks punching someone is going to solve the problem. though i do have to admit, selina did not mention weaning them off crime as a whole, but i do like how she doesn't expect all crime to stop instantly, and that we see that she's dropped violent crimes down by 75%. that's fucking insane, especially in gotham city, where violent crimes are prevalent.

i hate when people argue the fact that bruce had the wayne foundation remaking the city, because they neglect to add the fact that under at least,,, a good chunk of those buildings, he's adding safehouses for himself. bruce says "no crime" but is in the act of making illegal weaponry- be honest. do any of his weapons seem remotely legal beyond the grappling hooks and smoke bombs. like the guy made failsafe. that cannot be legal. - constant vigilantism ( which people argue every hero is doing, and to that i say, okay you're right on that ), assault ( "it's defending others!" okay, fine. but nightwing fights his bad guys without hospitalizing them and leaving them in crippling hospital debt ), and others. he's committing crimes, essentially, to stop crimes, and it's pretty much okay'd by the police. fine, whatever, but he can't go talking to the police like they don't make his job easier by not attempting to arrest him constantly ( not that i think they could. hence the word attempt ).

now i know people are going to be like "well batman HELPS people". okay, sure. but i don't think he helps them effectively. i also don't think he quite sees things from anyone else's point of view. would it be better to get rid of all crime? yes. but i don't think he quite targets the source of why some people feel they might have to resort to crime, or that people might be threatened into it, or whatever else the case might be ( which i think is also a flaw in our current criminal justice system in real world, especially in relation to "punish" instead of "rehabilitate", but that's a discussion for another day ).

i know people are pretty on/off about tom taylor and his nightwing run, but i've been reading it, and i really like the point where dick grayson learns to separate nightwing and dick grayson as two different entities that can help people in two different ways. nightwing can stray a little outside the law as a vigilante and help people by fighting and investigating and so on, but dick grayson started the pennyworth foundation ( ? i think that's what it's called ) and also created the "haven", which allowed for the further education and housing of the homeless in bludhaven. and overall, i don't think nightwing strikes fear into his enemies. he's always doing stupidly good things- like the incident at a strip club he performed at where he got lots of money, but he heard an old lady didn't have much if any, and he just gave it to her even though it's not as if dick was rich- in fact, i think he was literally thinking about getting something for himself with it right before he heard her. just as an example.

dick grayson isn't perfect and i won't try to argue that he is, but i think he's a great symbol. i think that what he's doing is a great start, and i think it's something that could really be built off of and that bruce could learn from. especially in the current verse.

from seeing how this worked in bludhaven, i know people will say this wouldn't work in gotham because of. whatever reason. but i think it might help some of the people in gotham. with all the gotham vigilantes, i think it could definitely be protected. with all the money bruce has and stuff like that, i'm sure he could find a way. and seeing as selina did what she did, i think it could mold into something better and something closer to what bruce had imagined. i think with the skillset that selina taught these people at her little cat burglar academy, they'd be able to defend themselves better in gotham. they'd be able to defend something like that, even if it's for a little while. now while i know gotham is vastly different than bludhaven, i do think selina had somewhat of a good start, but bruce is so far up his own ass sometimes that he doesn't think for a second and consider what this could potentially mean for the future.

call it a shot in the dark, but i do think that if selina and bruce worked together, they could have turned the skill sets selina had taught them into something more legal and off of crime, but clearly that isn't going to happen.

in sum, um. batman needs to give people more of a chance and not storm off and see everything in blacks and whites. also he's rich. i don't think he realizes how other people might view the rich or be harmed by them, even if he himself as bruce wayne doesn't do the same things as other rich people. i think what selina did was a good start to his goal, but he could have slowly made it into something that wiped crime off the table as a whole, but maybe that's just me.

"my parents were rich". i'm pretty sure they had ties to the mob or something. but anyways.

gotham war sucks. i also think it's stupid that cassandra cain, who can dodge bullets, was taken out by a grappling hook. that cassandra cain, who bruce said could win, got like. one-shotted. don't EVER do my girl like that again.

and also. everyone was super out of character so i'm honestly just putting this big old rant into the context of mostly gotham war and being like "this story sucks". and also i'm mad because people love bruce's decision on this but will say "eat the rich" in the next sentence. this is eat the rich. stealing from the rich because it doesn't affect a millionaire to lose a few jewels ( love u duke ) but it does affect a bodega owner to get shot for the money he lives on ( and u too mr. drake ).... it's not like millionaires are being murdered or harmed.

BUT ANYWAYS. i'm DONE i HATE gotham war and PLEASE stop praising batman for everything he does, esp when he seems kind of ooc in this story and so does everyone else. eat the rich always eat the rich. anyways

[ralexsol]

hey guys, it’s your new regularly scheduled prime defenders analysis post!! today we’re talking about mainly depowering! might do another post about the whole william section later cause that shit’s super interesting, but for now, we talkin’ POLITICS!

if you haven’t read my previous post on all this, i suggest you read it! i addressed basically everything about the whole villain/prison/depowering/whatever situation in the og post and then in the following reblogs.

TL;DR? death penalty should be option for big villains with the alternative being depowering, depowering or a prison sentence for lesser ones, and the only reason the watch isn’t doing the death penalty right now is because they’re so proud of the fact that they don’t stoop to the level of villains.

now, you can probably guess how excited i got when the pd were asking wordsmith about depowering in this episode! i was shaking in my seat, just waiting for somebody to say, “...but why did tide get depowered??” unfortunately, wordsmith wouldn’t specify the “principles of watch”, so we don’t exactly know what rules tide could’ve possibly broken.

in any case, i was so relieved to hear that you have to sign something when you become a hero that says if they’re allowed to depower you! im sure you’re allowed to say no, though! i mean, just because you don’t want alterations made to your body doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to save people, right?

...right???

honestly, wordsmith was so fucking vague i dont even know half of what’s going on with that. i think it’s kinda fucked up that the pd all don’t know if they signed the paper??? like, did the heroes just slip it in with a bunch of other paperwork and say like, “oh yeah, just sign this, it’s nothing”, like real world bosses do to employees? if they’re signing this shit, they should know it. it should be the biggest deal ever.

also, if they dont allow you to be a superhero without signing it... they’re really stupid lmaoooo. like. that’s not going to stop them from becoming a vigilante. if they want to use their powers for good you should fucking let them.

if heroes break the “principles of watch”, im assuming that would entail breaking the law, which would make them villains - which means they should be treated as such. there shouldn’t be a separate punishment for heroes from villains.

if breaking the principles of watch doesn’t entail breaking the actual law, there’s no way in fucking HELL they should be allowed to depower any heroes. and in every case, i HIGHLY doubt tide broke any rules.

depowering should not be for the heroes who are risking their lives to protect everyone. if a hero turns, they are no longer a hero - they’re a villain. it’s almost like the heroes are afraid to say that, because if one of their own can turn... then any one of the ones that are left could do the same. and if we’ve learned anything about the watch, it’s that they think they could never be as bad as villains.

i am glad to hear that they dont depower people if it means killing them, though. WHEW. was very worried for dakota and william (i talked about that possibility in this follow-up post, which was also about depowering). slightly worried about the story wordsmith told about bees boy? maybe i need to rewatch the episode, but i felt like he didn’t even finish the story?? like what the fuck did the watch do with him??? i remember him saying something about “dampening” bees boy’s powers, but like... what did they do after that? keep him locked up forever?

all in all, fuck wordsmith. bro can’t tell anything straight for his life. so not useful for my analysis posts. god.

[the-void-writes]

Happy Tiny Scene Sunday

same prompt but for a different character I'm equally curious about 👀

Vigilante AU Will is blindfolded and being led through the woods. Why are they in this situation and how do they get out?

@bloodlessheirbyjacques :DDD

@bloodlessheirbyjacques I am so sorry this took so long 🤣 This prompt really stumped me for him. Eventually, I decided to go for the more story-centric option.

So to sum up, Will is taken by a secret agency run by Preston’s mayor, who thinks Will is some kind of deity sent to help him rule. He’s then justly punished by a very angry Jason, the kids, and the rest of the town.

TW for kidnapping, violence, and the mention of blood and puke.

Will was far too sick to register what was going on. A bag was placed over his head, but he could see shadows of people sitting in front of him. They were in a truck, from the feel of it, one that bumped along an uneven path. When it came to a stop, the people in front of him let him out and led him down a long path. It was cold, though that could have been the drastically shifting temperature of his body, but the grass crunched underneath him. His fever made it impossible to walk straight, so one of his captors had to hold him up.

“Not too rough,” one said. “Boss wants him in top condition.”

“He’s already puking up blood,” another said. “Why does he want this one so badly?”

“This is the one, Noah. He’s what we’ve been waiting for.”

They entered a warm building, and Will was placed in a soft chair. At least, his captors were giving him some comfort while they held him. He listened, despite the pounding in his head, only hearing a dozen little beeps. Finally, footsteps came from far away, and a gentle hand lifted the bag from his head. The world was a dark-green blur, with a bright figure standing in the middle. His smile was the first thing to come into focus.

“Mister Parker…”

His head slouched as he tried to speak, and the young mayor hushed him gently.

“Easy, champ. You’ve had a long morning, I’m sure.”

“Where are we…”

“One of my special facilities, for people just like you.” A slender finger ran through Will’s hair. “You’re the one I’ve been waiting for.”

“Waiting?” Will could barely keep speaking.

“I’ll explain everything to you after you’ve rested. We wouldn’t want to lose you so quickly.”

He snapped his fingers, and two guards picked Will up and carried him away. Parker watched him intently as he disappeared into the darkness.

“This is for the best, my Zephyr.”

———————

Will watched as Jason and Jin wheeled Parker out in front of the crowd, hidden by the bag over his head. The people of Preston booed and hissed at their mayor. He was the reason Will had disappeared, the reason he had become too sick to fight. His delusions almost cost the city their protector. For once, the citizens of Preston were in agreement; Mayor Parker had to go.

Jason was the first to stab him, his icy eyes piercing his soul sharper than any blade could.

“My son is not your god,” he said, “or your pet. I’ll make sure he never has to see you again.”

Jin was the next to stab him, followed by Colin, and everyone else until they passed the knife to Will. Instead of using it, though, he gestured to the crowd.

“Parker’s been taking people from the city for years. It’s only fair that the city retaliates as a whole.”

The audience gathered around their mayor, chanting together as they took turns beating the man to a pulp. Parker reached out towards Will, begging for his savior to change his mind. Instead of forgiveness, he received a knife through the palm of his hand. The crowd only drew out his punishment, with death itself refusing to grant him mercy. Will stared down at him, exhausted and scarred from the experiments, and held a finger to his lips.

“This is for the best,” he said.

[aspenforest732]

Bello Licentiae Chapter 15: Stake-arts

Summary:

tw: trauma, ptsd, flashback, exploitation, drugs, suicide mention, child abuse mentions, brainwashing, abuse, quirk elitism, human trafficking mention, housing insecurity 'text' JSL Text thoughts

Akira jolted awake in a cold sweat, shaking as they took in the unfamiliar but distinct patterns of Mina's room. They pulled their Bastard plushie tighter to their chest and let the weighted blanket and softness of the plush ease their racing heart as phantom burning vibrations wracked their body. I'm at U.A. I'm in Mina's room. We were having a sleepover. He isn't here, Akira repeated until their breathing eventually evened out.

Akira silently slipped out of the room around the tangle of bodies and decided on crutches while getting ready for the day. Checking their phone, they caught a message from Fat Gum confirming night shift to do a stakeout with Mouse and Ghost, one of the former vigilantes he basically adopted. Out of the Mad Banquet, only Hitoshi and Shoto were attending class that morning, and Aizawa made note of who would need to makeup quizzes.

In English, Yamada reminded everyone to turn in their paper topics by Monday so he could look over them. Akira wasn't entirely sure if forced quirk manifestation methods and their long-term effects was school-appropriate, but they had a solid backup of the Greek pantheon's evolution. They thought about the Roman pantheon, but due to the empire's spread and absorption of other religions, it was far too broad a topic.

In Art History, Kayama asked the class to find an art style that they connected to over the weekend and have a one-minute presentation ready for Monday – or Tuesday for those who wouldn't be in class. Since they were hero students, Kayama often tied what they were learning into methods of expressing themselves and used a wide variety of styles to show that being different can be a huge asset. Akira couldn't help but think of the R-rated hero's first costume and how it forced the commission to place regulations protecting feminine heroes from exploitive costumers.

That night, Mortis met with Mouse and Ghost before heading out. "Alright, Umbra Mortis, Ghost. Ghost, Umbra Mortis. Since both of you are new to this – don't give me that look, Ghost – I'm going to go over some ground rules," Mouse started. "We'll be setting up for an all-nighter in a building down the street from the Shie Hassaiki compound. If we're spotted, the whole mission could fail, so stealth and deception are above everything except safety. If we get separated for whatever reason, make sure you don't have a tail before you head back to the agency. If you need backup, tap this twice." Mouse handed each a dark-banded watch. "These have built-in trackers and will ping the agency network to let us know to send help. If no one confirms in fifteen seconds, it opens a request for covert assistance in the Hero Network. Any questions so far?"

Mortis shook their head and looked up at Ghost, who just seemed bored. After a pointed look from Mouse, he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Great! We're tracking all activity in and out of the compound but put a mark next to an entry if something seems different. Behavior, body language, who they're with, anything. We're not going to follow them, just make note of what we can while they're in line of sight. Backup night shift will be following through with any breaks from the norm."

The trio set out for the compound, silently moving along the rooftops while the city started to slow under the lamplight. Mouse was in faer stealth costume of more muted greys and blacks with thin blue streaks. Mortis had never seen Ghost's costume before, fairly simple black body armor with red stylized bat accents that looked similar to a pre-quirk comic character. Minus the red helmet, of course. That would stick out like a sore thumb, .

The day shift's observation hadn't turned up anything unusual other than identifying a few of the new drug dealers coming in and out of the compound. Once the trio finished setting up with coffee, snacks, and journals, Mortis wordlessly moved to the high point in the hollowed-out building, easily warping into the shadowy area in the rafters to conceal the sudden appearance and waiting a minute before shifting into the light enough for communication as needed.

"What're you doing up there?" Mouse asked, tilting faer head to look up at them.

' Getting another perspective, ' Mortis easily replied. ' Higher is better for observation. '

Mouse chuckled as Ghost peered up at them, eyes narrowed. "Did the infamous gargoyle Eraser teach you that?"

Mortis snorted but shook their head, ' No, not that there's anything wrong with gargoyling. '

They spent the time mostly listening to Mouse's stories about hero work, pausing whenever they spotted movement around the compound. Eventually, they circled around to U.A., and Mouse mentioned fae attended. "Yeah, I would've been stuck in Gen Ed but figured out I could chew through the robots' wires in mouse form. I heard they've still got that archaic system, so how'd you get in without a combat quirk, Mortis?"

' Mostly rescue points, but I did take down a few once there was shrapnel around to get into their control panels. Just a matter of pulling or slicing at wires from there, ' Mortis shrugged. ' How'd you not get electrocuted? Those robots pack a punch when you don't pull the right ones first. '

"Eh, Recovery Girl had me covered," Mouse grinned.

Ghost muttered something under his breath about hero students, making Mouse laugh. He glowered at faer, "I've got a regeneration quirk, you people have no excuse."

Mortis cocked their head. ' How does your quirk work if you don't mind? I remember hearing it's a bit unusual. '

Ghost snorted derisively and crossed his arms. "You could say that. I can regenerate from anything I've run into so far, but I have to die for it to activate." Mouse winced, and Mortis simply nodded. After a moment, Ghost muttered just loudly enough for them to hear, "Most people ask how I found out."

' Most people don't wear Primordial ,' they shot back. His eyes widened and darted to their shoes, to which Mortis huffed. ' Size up for street, custom like yours for costume. ' The only documented quirks with the initial activation of death were the result of forced quirk manifestation, so they didn't bother sugar-coating it.

The night shift passed much as the day had with only a few people to watch for and inform the day shift of. The trio trudged into breakfast, even the usually energetic Mouse feeling the effects of sleep deprivation. Mortis loaded plates with their usual at the agency even as their stiff legs protested from extended use. They slipped into a seat at Fat Gum's table with a small wave to the boisterous hero.

"Mortis! How was your first stakeout?" Fat Gum grinned. "Did Mouse talk your ear off? I hope Ghost didn't chase you off."

' Technically not my first stakeout, ' Mortis shrugged, robotically starting to eat. After a moment, they straightened a bit at the mild concern creeping onto the heroes' faces. ' They were fine. We didn't find much, just a few more faces to watch for. '

"Progress is still progress, kid," Fat Gum's grin diminished slightly. "Are you alright?"

Mortis looked up then in confusion. ' I'm fine, just tired. Why?... ' It clicked and Akira let themself relax as they switched masks. ' Sorry, forgot to switch modes. '

Akira spent most of breakfast just listening to the heroes talk, focused on making sure they ate enough to stay on track before they crashed. This is going to be a long weekend , Akira mused as they settled into one of the guest rooms. A part of themself they rarely listened to protested at the name, but they pushed it down. Resolutely ignoring the small touches that made it more comfortable than during their internship.

Akira tiredly tapped the door frame with a crutch before walking into their crowded living room. ' I'm making tea. Anyone want some? '

"Tea would be lovely, my apologies," Kurogiri said and started to stand.

"You deserve a break, please," Magne reached out a placating hand. Akira watched them curiously as the League seemed to be more antsy than usual. "We were discussing what to do with that monster, Overhaul," she spat.

' I take it you know about his daughter then? ' Akira asked.

"She's his daughter ?" Spinner hissed.

Akira wavered a moment, thinking over the briefing. ' Technically we're not sure of their relation, but that's at least the story he's going with. ' Akira briefly explained their theory on how the drug is being made, occasionally glancing at Shigaraki's odd expression. It was some kind of mix between confusion, disgust, and something they couldn't quite place. Which was especially unnerving since he was usually an open book.

Mr. Compress took off his mask and rubbed his eyes while Spinner seethed on the couch. When Akira brought the kettle and cups over, Mr. Compress spoke up, "It seems the heroes are interested in removing the girl as we are. Since we have the advantage of people inside the yakuza, it would be advantageous to work together."

Akira's eyebrows shot up as the tray clattered the short distance to the table. They quickly righted the tilting kettle before taking a breath and sitting closest to Kurogiri on the couch. ' It would not be with the knowledge of most of the heroes, but if you reach out through a neutral party, Eraser Head or Fat Gum would be your best bet. '

"Why would we trust them?" Spinner sneered, glaring at Akira.

Steeling themself, Akira calmly explained, ' Calamity already has high opinions of Eraser Head. I can vouch for both of their morals and willingness to work with who it takes to achieve good. Both work with vigilantes, gangs, and on the extremely rare occasion, villains. '

"If we need to be stealthy about this around the heroes, Twice would be our best option," Magne offered, easing some of the tension as Twice looked up from a rubix cube.

"We'll do what it takes to get her out," Twice said with a nearly calm voice, undercurrents of anger clawing their way to hint at the surface. "We can't let her lose herself," he snapped as the anger boiled through.

"I've worked with Eraser Head before," Dabi added, eyes distant but hard. "I'll reach out through our mutual and should have a meeting by tomorrow."

The League turned to Shigaraki, whose fiddling had frozen. After a moment, he finally noticed and glared at them, "What?"

' You're the boss, are you on board? ' Akira asked, searching his expression.

"What he's doing to her isn't normal," he said slowly. After a moment, Akira's brows shot up as they realized it was more of a question. Looking to Magne, she seemed to have the same realization, which explained why Kurogiri stayed quiet. He scowled and bit out, "Yeah, you can team up to grief them. Just don't get yourselves killed."

Akira looked questioningly to Kurogiri, noticing while the others started hashing out details that his mist was fluctuating again, albeit more subtly than before. They shifted closer to the nomu, who briefly met their eyes and seemed to settle somewhat. Akira subtly angled themself so the others would have a harder time watching and asked, ' Are you okay? '

Kurogiri pointedly looked at Shigaraki but didn't say anything. Akira gave them a searching look before sighing and turning back to the group. They did a double take as they realized Shigaraki's shoes weren't just red. As they got ready to leave, Akira stopped Kurogiri. ' Can I speak with you a moment after you warp them? ' He glanced to Shigaraki before nodding.

Akira gestured for him to sit while they poured another cup. ' Remember how I said I'd look into your base? '

The yellow eyes narrowed slightly before Kurogiri responded, "Yes."

' I'm almost certain I found him, Oboro Shirakumo, ' Akira gently signed. ' I saw glimpses of him when we officially met, and his quirk lines up with the others that comprise Warp Gate. ' Kurogiri tensed slightly but said nothing, his mist stable. After a long moment, Akira hesitantly asked, ' I don't know what's going on with you, but is Oboro still in there? '

"I need to go," Kurogiri abruptly stood and warped away.

"That went well," Dabi snarked and caught a throw pillow.

Akira rolled their eyes, ' Like you had a better idea. He deserved to know. I need to put a presentation together for Monday so am heading to Claws of Coffee for a couple hours. '

"Fancy," Dabi smirked, earning an elbow to the side.

Akira grabbed their backpack, hesitating a moment before shaking their head and dumping out what they didn't need onto the coffee table. ' Just don't spill anything on my textbooks while I'm out. ' The small cat café had a student discount and someone – they were pretty sure Aizawa – had set up a tab to charge the first hour for any U.A. student. The Wi-Fi was free and the cats friendly, so Akira curled up with a mug of hot chocolate and a three-legged tabby on their lap while fending off a couple others from their drink.

Kintsugi, the art of filling cracks in pottery with metal-dusted lacquer, had instantly appealed to them when Kayama went over it the previous week. The idea of recognizing trauma as a fundamental part of yourself and accepting it to the point of showcasing it seemed a distant future, but one that Akira could appreciate.

On Monday, Aizawa passed homework back with a note for a lunch meeting in his office. Akira quirked a brow at the delivery method but easily slipped back into reviewing their notes for the presentation. Glancing at Fumikage's, a small smile slipped onto their face at the gothic art. The only surprise in art styles people presented was Todoroki, who talked about ice sculptures in the age of quirks. He even created a small, somewhat detailed cat as an example to Kayama's delight.

Akira slipped into Aizawa's office with their bento box, mildly surprised to see Yamada already there. Their gaze flicked to him curiously as they sat in what had become their usual comfy chair.

"I don't want to intrude on your meeting much," Yamada smiled softly, not quite reaching his eyes. "I was just a little worried about your topic, you know?" Curiosity piqued, Akira gestured for him to continue. "FQM is a dark topic, and not many people know about it in the first place. Are you sure you'll be okay researching and writing about it?"

Akira nodded firmly, pushing down the knot of anxiety that started to form. ' It's something I know a lot about, and a couple people have already offered to do interviews under aliases. I'll be fine. '

"Okay, I'll leave you two it then," Yamada lightly brushed Aizawa's fingers with his own as he headed out.

"There are two things I want to discuss with you today," Aizawa started, pulling a file out of his desk. "Academically, we're starting espionage training this week." Akira perked up, mind already racing with possibilities. "There will be teams of four students trailing another student. Each squad's goal is to intercept or capture evidence of as many information passes their target makes as possible. The fifth's goal is to make as many information passes to their teacher 'contact' by the end of the week. Friday we'll review how everyone did, and next week we'll rotate and start doing shorter exercises. Would you be more comfortable starting with a squad or against one?"

My quirk is well-suited for either, giving my pair or my squad an edge against the others , Akira pondered. It would be easier, though, for people not to be aware of my tricks if I start solo . After a moment more of consideration, they nodded, ' I'd be fine with either, but starting with a squad would provide a good challenge for the second phase. '

"I thought you might pick that. I already gave Kirishima and Tokoyami their packets, and the rest of class will get them later today," Aizawa grinned slightly and made a note in the file and handed it over. He turned more serious as he put the file back, however. "Good choice going through a broker in case of follow-up. I'm not sure if Dabi told you, but we plan for Koda to smuggle a spider in with Dabi to get confirmation of Eri's location."

' He didn't say, but that sounds good, ' Akira nodded along. They frowned as they recalled Saturday. ' I'm concerned about Calamity. He was already showing a couple red flags for abuse, and he seemed confused that what Overhaul is doing to Eri isn't normal. '

Aizawa stiffened minutely, staring at his desk before carefully asking, "Do you think Oboro..."

Akira hesitantly shook their head, separating their teeth from their lip with their tongue when they noticed the pressure turned into needle-like discomfort. ' No, we don't think so at least. While Calamity grew up, though, Loud Cloud would've been trying to survive, too. If he wasn't forced to be an active participant, he probably had to watch or at least take care of the kid in the aftermath. ' They hesitated, knowing what they could share would normally get them thrown out of Quirkless communities.

If Shigaraki was young enough, he might not even remember before, Akira reasoned with themself. Pressing their mouth into a thin line, they looked back to Aizawa, whose gaze had morphed into concern. 'I also have reason to believe Calamity was Quirkless and was either given a quirk or underwent FQM.'

"You did confirm All for One's use of traffickers," Aizawa murmured, eyes darkening. "Midoriya recently shared that Tomura's last name was originally Tenko as the grandson of the seventh holder of One for All."

Akira hissed in a breath. ' That would explain it. And All for One's wording on his offers. ' At Aizawa's concerned brow raise, Akira continued, ' He said my presence would be a blemish on hero society, like Calamity. ' Checking the time, Akira stood to head out but paused at the door. ' I think I'm ready to bring Loud Cockatoo into this if you're both fine with it. '

Aizawa's gaze softened as he smiled slightly. "Zashi's been hoping he's read your cues correctly. Would you like to be there or do you want me to fill him in?"

' I'll be there, ' Akira signed before their nerves could lead them otherwise. ' I do want you there, too. '

"Always."

After picking up Kirishima, the pair headed to the train station. Akira nodded slightly in appreciation as they picked up on his more alert posture. It wasn't to the degree they could slack off, but Akira at least didn't have to worry about him missing obvious threats. They spent the train ride reviewing their espionage packets, comparing their targets and teams. Akira, Aoyama, Ojiro, and Hitoshi would be facing Shoji while Kirishima, Sato, Fumikage, and Yaoyorozu would be facing Ida. The solo students didn't have their teacher contact listed, and the teams would get extra credit if they identified the teacher-student pairings.

"I get some are going into underground and twilight heroics, but why do all of us need to learn this?" Kirishima mused as they went over the basic tailing formation diagrams. While they would go over them in class, each student had a visual representation for those who needed it and for memory.

' Not everyone has decided yet, ' Akira shook their head in amusement. ' And it's still a valuable skill for limelights. Especially if you want to do any work with underground heroes. You can go through intelligence heroes, but you need to at least know how to identify tails and move stealthily in order to have lines open. '

Kirishima startled a bit, curiosity shining brightly in his eyes. "Really? I thought underground was mostly avoiding media and taking night shifts."

Akira laughed at that, staring in disbelief at the redhead. ' No, not at all. It's a very different set of villains, and anyone undergrounds are close to are at higher risk. Daylight villains mostly won't go after family and friends, but underground the stakes rise exponentially. Undergrounds mostly avoid limelights because they don't care enough and/or don't have the training to operate in our sphere. '

"How do you know so much about this stuff anyways?" Kirishima mused after some time.

Subtly checking for anyone listening or watching, Akira was grateful the attention had dropped off for the most part. ' My living situation was... unstable before the first round of internships. I learned how to notice and lose tails and how to follow people without being noticed. I didn't have the proper names like this, but I got the general gist. '

Notes:

Since I haven't written any of this out in my head, I've been doing little outlines for each chapter, and they're getting thiccc lol generally, I try to think up the action scenes ahead of time to get a feel for what big points I want to hit, but the raid arc is kinda hard to do that with... I am shortening the timeline on it a bit since I have a bit more to play with after the raid Ghost's quirk is based on Help Me Leave Behind Some (Reasons to Be Missed) by intheeveningsunrise I have a fun (at least for me) thing planned for the next phase of heroics :D I can finally put my skills from Strategic Intelligence Society to use! Could I have used it in the trafficking arc? ...maybe? But they were intentionally trying to keep Akira removed from the situation, so it was a tossup. Me: ooo I'll take inspiration from vigilante izuku fics Also me: picks the darkest regen fic I've read Ghost: ...I didn't even have a name before this! Me: eeeh technically none of the sidekicks do outside of hero names Horikoshi: the red shoes are literally just a visual parallel Me: shhh let me have fun

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[nobody7102]

Unless You Mean It

Warnings: ANGST(sorry not sorry), kind of NWH spoilers but... weirdly not?

Pairing: Andrew/tasm Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: This is an Andrew/tasm Peter fic however this world is essentially if all three of Peter's worlds merged together into one. Peter and Y/N are also college seniors for age reference

Main Master-List

Part 2

As Peter Parker's best friend and roommate there are three rules Y/N made and follows in order to keep him and herself safe.

1. As the only friend who knows Peter’s secret, Y/N never interferes unless Peter asks: Ever since Gwen died Peter had been very pick and choose with who he shared his hobby with, out of all of the people he’s gotten to know being in college Y/N is the only person who knows he’s Spider-Man and helps Peter when he asks.

2. Make sure Peter takes care of himself and makes time for non-vigilante related activities: When Gwen died Peter threw himself into being Spider-Man. No breaks. No worries for himself. Aunt May even asked Y/N to stay with them at the house before Peter and Y/N had gotten their apartment to make sure he wasn’t alone. It is Y/N’s job to make sure that he gives himself proper care after patrol, check up on him when May asks, take him out when he’s been in the house too much, and make sure he pulls his punches.

3. Don’t let Peter know Y/N likes him: Originally rule three was “Don’t fall for Peter” but she had to change that a month after first meeting Peter and Gwen the summer before all of them where supposed to start College.

When Y/N had met Peter and Gwen they were in their ‘Firends’ phase but after Peter learned about Oxford Y/N quickly realized from talking with Peter that he still shared feelings for Gwen. She wasn’t there when Gwen died but she heard about it from Peter, she saw how it weighed harder on him than it should have that summer… almost like he was responsible for it in a way.

Gwen died a year before Y/N learned that Peter was Spider-Man. Peter, Gwen, and Y/N had all met at the summer Mixer for incoming Freshmen at NYU and over their time of knowing each other somehow managed to agree to be apartment roommates when the school year started. Which is how Y/N initially learned of Peter’s night time activities.

She was pulling an all nighter in the kitchen of their apartment when Peter had crawled into the living room via the fire escape, and boy did that scare the crap out of Y/N who was running off of naps and coffee at the time.

And so after Peter had explained himself Y/N established a Spider-Man rule for herself a few months later (Although Y/N never told Peter about these rules).

These are the rules she followed and these are what have kept everyone safe since Freshman year so, no reason to worry right?

___________________________________________________

“Maybe we shouldn’t have pre-gamed the party” Y/N laughed watching as Peter drove. “And maybe we should have taken my car” She glanced around at the messy exterior of Peter’s Mini Van. Something he bought halfway through Sophomore year for extra storage, but now he mostly used it to make commuting between patrols easier, plus it was as he called it “His lab on wheels”.

Taking a hand off the steering wheel he lightly smacked Y/N’s leg smiling, “Hey don’t diss the van” he chuckled “And you were the one who pre-gamed not me, so if you get sick at some point do it before the party.” he shook his head “We’ve got a reputation Y/N, what's it gonna look like to the Freshman and other clubs if the a Senior and Vice President of the Science Rally can’t hold her drinks?” he joked.

“Maybe they’ll think, oh she was cool and pregamed” she laughed before looking at the surroundings they drove by “Pete are you sure this is the way to the party? Maybe Peter sent you the wrong address?”

Looking at his surroundings then to the GPS screen of the van he hummed before putting on his blinker and pulling over to the side of the road, “It should be right” grabbing his phone from the cupholder he unlocked it and opened his messages scrolling through a chat. “Peter said this alumni party is always at the same place… he, other Peter, Hallie and Lauren sent us the same address….” he looked back to the GPS “I am so fucking stupid…” he turned to Y/N as he cleared the previous address from the screen “I typed it in wrong”

Letting out a snorted laugh Y/N leaned forward in her seat as a hand covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Wow” she hummed.

Peter just smiled as he tried to type in the new address. Resting her head on her hand Y/N didn’t know what it was: maybe it was the way Peter bit his tongue when he was trying to focus or the half box of Franzia talking but something just captivated her to watch Peter a bit more than normal in this moment.

Adjusting the screen Peter let out a successful “ha” before looking back down to compare the address he put in “We’re only 3 blocks away from the hotel”

Tilting her head slightly Y/N continued to watch Peter for a few seconds before speaking “Can I try something?”

He looks up from his phone and smiles “Sure.”

Quickly before doubt could creep in, and before Peter could pick up the racing of her heart beat Y/N leaned over to him, placing a hand on his jaw and closing her eyes.

Eye’s widening, Peter froze for a moment realizing what Y/N was doing. A few seconds before their lips met Peter pulled away from her reach causing Y/N to open her eyes.

Wishing she had kept her eye’s closed she was met with furrowed brows and an apologetic look upon Peter’s face.

“I’m sorry” Y/N quickly blurted out now fully sobered up “That was weird…we can just…” her voice strained a bit, enough for Peter to hear it “We can pretend that didn-”

“Y/N” Peter started but before he could continue Y/N quickly gathered her things and hopped out of the Van repeating the words “I’m sorry” as she left. Quickening her pace she heard Peter call out for her as she walked down the road, before hearing the stall of the Van as she assumed Peter tried to follow her.

At some point Y/N had walked far enough to be mixed in with the crowds of New York, unable to hear Peter as he looked for her. Peter somehow found her in the crowd, she could feel it. The way she felt his eyes on her form as she dogged him, as somehow she was fast enough to stay ahead of him. By how much she stayed ahead of him she couldn’t tell.

Pulling up the address on her own phone Y/N eventually made her way to the hotel with red and watery eyes, full of sorrow that had somehow not spilled over onto her cheeks. Quickly pulling open the door, Y/N prayed silently as she tried to blend in with the crowds of college kids, hoping that Peter wouldn’t see her as she started to search for her friends.

By some miracle after checking the busy ballroom for the second time she came across the very two people she was searching for. Wrapping her arms around herself as she entered onto the dance floor she made her way over to Hallie and Lauren, grabbing both of them by the arm and leading them off of the dance floor.

The smile that had previously occupied Hallie’s face vanished as she took in Y/N’s state “Where’s Peter?” she questioned “I thought the two of you were coming together?” With that a few stray tears made their way from Y/N’s eyes to her cheeks.

“I kissed him!” she shouted over the music.

“What?” Hallie’s eyes widen, asking in surprise,

“You are so fucking stupid” Lauren cuts in causing Hallie to hit her arm. “What, that was the one and only rule she made for herself when she told us about Peter and she broke it.” Lauren justified.

“She’s had a few drinks” Hallie turned back to Y/N, watching as more tears slipped down her cheeks as she shook her head.

“No she’s right” Y/N brought her hand up to clear away the tears. “I went to kiss him… and just before our lips touched he pulled away” she cried “His face… I fucked up, the one rule I dead set no exception for and I fucked it up”

“You know what, fuck him” Hallie placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder and squeezed it gentle.

“Yeah” Lauren agreed “Yeah we can’t fully commit to that till graduation because he’s still our president but fuck him” she continued, “You know what you need?” she asked rhetorically “Shots!” grabbing Y/N’s hand she led her and Hallie over to the bar as Y/N laughed sadly.

_________________________________________________

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed since her first shot nor how many she’d had. Y/N wasn’t drunk. Definitely not drunk, just back to the tipsy state she was in before she had tried to kiss Peter. Her feet carried her in a rhythm as she closed her eyes, letting the flow of the music whisk her away.

That is until she felt a set of hands on her shoulders, thinking it was Hallie or Lauren she turned with a smile on her face that quickly fell when she realized Peter had finally found her.

“Can we talk? Preferable somewhere quiet?” he yelled over the music and a pit of dread formed in Y/N’s stomach. Looking around at the party she eventually agreed and followed Peter out of the ballroom and into an empty meeting room.

Upon entering the room Peter stood with his back towards Y/N as he was over by the table in the middle of the room, while Y/N leaned against the wall next to the door. She watched as Peter ran his hands through his hair and down his face before he turned to her

“Y/N…” he started “You are amazing, you always have been and you always will be. Someday someone is gonna be-”

She stopped him before he could go one “I am a good fucking person. I do everything I can… and I try and try. So why is it whenever I fall for someone they never feel the same” she stared at him dead on, never breaking eye contact as she spoke, tears once again making their way from her eyes to the rest of her face. “Tell me why Peter? Why can I love everyone, why can I love and give love so much but no one ever loves me? How is that fair?”

Before the two could continue any more the door opened to reveal Lauren looking between the two before she speaks. “There you are. Someone said you came in here… Hallie’s shoe broke she already went up to our room, I wanted to know if you wanted to come with?.”

Y/N nodded still keeping eye contact with Peter “Yeah, okay” finally turning from him Lauren’s arm wrapped around Y/N frame as they walked out of the room, Lauren silently asking if Y/N was okay.

As the two left the room and walked into the lobby of the hotel, Y/N made eye contact with two familiar faces as they passed to the elevator before they could approach Y/N about her current state.

Turning to each other Peter 2 and Peter 1 shared a look of concern before starting to look for Peter 3, eventually finding him in the meeting room.

“What the hell happened, is Y/N okay she looked like she’d just watched someone die?” Peter 1 started as he entered the room.

Pacing around the room Peter 3 refused to make eye contact with his brothers for a few moments before he spoke “I fucked up… Y/N went to kiss me and I panicked.”

Furrowing his brows Peter 2 pushed on the subject “What do you mean panicked?”

Taking a long pause before he spoke Peter 3 cleared his throat “I pulled away from her… just before she actually kissed me…”

“Dude!” Peter 1 yelled “Even I know not to do that and I haven’t been around the block as much as you have” he looked sympathetic to his older brother.

Peter 2 quickly walked over to Peter 3 placing a hand on his shoulder “This is what you’re gonna do, you’re gonna go to the room she’s staying in, find Hallie or Lauren and beg them to let you talk to Y/N because they are not gonna be happy, you are gonna beg to talk to Y/N. then when they finally agree to let you see here, you are gonna beg Y/N for forgiveness” Peter 2 started to lead the three of them out of the room.

“What if they don’t let me see her?” Peter 3 questioned.

“Trust me at some point they’ll let you talk to her.” Peter 2 reassured him.

“But what if that doesn’t work” Peter 3 continued.

Peter 1 placed his hand on Peter 3’s other shoulder “Then you make a very big fool of yourself in public” he responded “you do that, it peaks her interest and she asks you why you did it” Peter 1 patted his shoulder.

_____________________________________________

In the hotel room the makeup of the night had been wiped away and comfier clothing made its way onto the occupants of the room.

“I am so fucking dumb” Y/N mumbled from the pillow her face was buried in as she lazily tried to sober up.

“You’ve got to stop saying that'' Lauren threw a spare pillow at Y/N “It was fine when you first told us and when I called you it but now its just not the right time.” she walked over to Y/N sitting next to her on the bed “Make another rule for yourself and then break it, then and only then can you start saying that again”

After a few minutes of silence everyone’s attention was drawn to the door as a few hastened knocks echoed in the room. Standing from her chair Hallie made her way over to the door looking between the door and Y/N before glancing through the peep hole to see Peter standing on the other side of the door.

Shaking her head she cracked the door open and slipped into the hallway before Lauren or Y/N could say or ask anything.

“Hallie please you have to let me talk to Y-”

“You don’t get to say her name.” she cut him off “Not right now, so you listen to me Parker” she moved them away from the door incase Y/N or Lauren was listening “Y/N has liked you for years and the only reason she didn’t say anything was because she was a good friend to Gwen, but she had always liked you. So if you don’t like her, why do you always stare at her for longer that she stares at you after you make eye contact with each other? Why do you ghost over her hand when we all study together and why does your Aunt always nudge you too together when we all come over for dinner?” she raised her hand and pointed at him accusingly “You Peter Parker are an ass and as Y/N’s best friend I should kick your ass which is a lot nicer that what Lauren would do if it were her standing out here.”

Nodding in understanding, all Peter could do was nod before he spoke “ please Hallie… please can I just talk to Y/N?”

Hallie backed away from Peter, watching him as her hand reached behind her to open the door before quickly making her way in and closing it, she turned to Y/N.

“Its Peter, and he wants to talk to you”

Lauren’s head snapped to Y/N who lifted her face up from the pillow “You aren’t thinking of talking to him are you?”

“I kind of have to..” she started sitting up from her spot on the bed. “ I kind of think that I’ve absolutely ruined our friendship… not to mention a whole can of other worms…” Letting out a sign, Y/N made her way over to the door and she heard Lauren whisper yell.

“Don’t let him fuck with you or your feelings!”

Y/N nodded, keeping Lauren’s words in her mind before she opened the door and crept into the hallway.

Peter looked up from the floor opening his mouth to say something but stopped himself. The two stood in silence for a few moments before he started again taking a few steps .

“I was stupid…. I was really stupid” he repeated “And I am sorry that I am so stupid and that I probably always will be stupid but…:” he leaned into Y/N but she raised her hand, holding it up between the two of them as his head tilted to the side

“Don’t kiss me unless you mean it and plan on doing it again in my lifetime.” She stepped back from him, her eyes casted to the ground not looking up once before she reentered the room, letting her back rest against the door as her eyes started to water once again as she sank down to the floor.

Unknown to her Peter had minced her actions.

The two unknowingly stayed like that for a few moments before they both signed sadly

“Fuck…”

[magpiesbones]

just. all the characters in witch hat are so good? and the art is fucking amazing holy shit

but just. Coco and her outsider view on all magic that ricochets from “this is the coolest thing ever” to “wait why is that a rule” and Qifrey and his Incomprehensible but existent moral code that seems to be based on the sunk cost fallacy and Agott and her perfectionism and Tetia and her delight in gratitude and Richeh and her fear of unwanted growth and Olruggio and his insistence on following the rules that goes out the window if he cares about someone

like they‘re all SUCH good characters and they all illustrate one or more of the failures of witch society (Tetia isn’t super obvious or maybe I haven’t read enough to know but she definitely feels like someone who is trying to be the antithesis of something) and just aaaaaaaa

this WAS just going to be a little rant but now I think this could be a sort of meta and i think it Will. not a super detailed one because I don’t really feel like pulling sources so if you know you know and if you don’t welllll spoiler warning up to chapter 45???

so, obviously coco is the outsider view and she’s so full of wonder over magic and its possibilities even though she knows the other possibilities of magic (her mom, Romonon, Euni, etc) and the thing about Coco is that she believes that she can do anything with magic even after evidence to the contrary and she’s (and Qifrey and Coustas too, I suppose? I’m not caught up) going to prove that nonwitches can and should be allowed to learn magic, and that the barriers to learning benefit no one (it’s not like there Aren’t still brimhats, it’s just harder to combat brimhat magic)

and then (because I’m going by order of introduction) there’s Qifrey, who is. complicated. Qifrey is made of hubris and regret and vigilante justice (rereading chapter two after chapter forty gives a bit of Extra Thought) and doesn’t want to tone any of it down because this is a man who thinks that if he Deals With It it won‘t bother anyone else. This is a man who does not understand a support network, not that it’s really his fault since he’s never had one that is not undercut by the Knights Moralis. He had One traumatic event occur and then the entire rest of his life has been dealing with the aftermath of this event he barely remembers, and even tho his treatment at the hands of the witches has been genuinely not great they still think they’re doing fantastic by him because they gave him the gift of magic. He is quite clearly a foil for Coco as they’re both outsiders, but Qifrey is what happens when someone would rather have good intentions than good parenting skills. This does Not excuse his behavior since I’m not apologizing for anything and also because this man is a literary device, and he is a fucking personification of the Worst consequences of isolationism on witch society. anyways this is a man who is trying his best and also who has deep issues, some of which are self esteem and others of which are anger, and he’s making mistakes.

now. Agott. I love her. This girl is a tightly pressurized container of perfectionism and spite and she is Going To Follow The Rules. Except there aren’t rules and people aren’t going to like her more if she gets everything right. she wants to be the best because she too is a consequence of isolationist witch society except she is a consequence of failed meritocracy. Agott genuinely believes the best of all witches or people who she sees as smarter than her, which is why she doesn’t understand that people Will lie to sabotage her (not sure how explicit it was but the vibe I got from Agott Backstory is that someone lied to keep her out of Arklaum Atelier), and she thinks the primary objective of everyone is to get as far up in witch society as they can on their own merit. This is a girl who did not know about nepotism and is now deeply disillusioned, which is partly something she can be because she was so privileged within witch society. She was the best because she had to be and because she had to be she was allowed to be, which now that I wrote it is a very convoluted sentence and yet the heart of Agott’s issues. She is a feedback loop of perfectionism.

Tetia: I live in hope of Tetia backstory. I don‘t know a ton about her so i can’t really analyze her But I didn’t want to leave her out.

Richeh is a consequence of the loss of creativity inherent when you have such an intrinsic Right Way To Do Things. she does things that are genuinely impossible if she tried to do them the Correct way (windowways in particular) and her fear of growth sort of mirrors the entire society’s fear of growth after traumatic incident (brimhats vs That Man) except she is letting go of it and growing and experiencing resolution in a way that other characters really haven’t.

Olruggio is absolutely wild because this is a man who is meant to report directly to witch police except he just, like, doesn’t. It’s sort of implied that he was some sort of prodigy (in ch 34-39, by Hiehart and Utowin) and it’s definitely implied that he doesn’t like being the focus of attention, so I’m going to say that he and Agott are foils. Most of what I know of Olruggio’s backstory is Blatant implication and headcanon even tho I know new chapters I haven’t gotten to yet have a little more info. I Will say that Olruggio’s technically police-adjacent role and his apparent ideaology of ‘I only break rules when I think they are dumb’ is a pretty pointed reflection of the Knights and their ‘brimhat magic is bad except when it’s useful to us’.