#'typical hero activity' i say in my mind

[aofikofi]

remember this? what if they get along eventually?

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Note: The fic gets a bit saucy, so A18+ ONLY just to be safe!

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Making Out

CW: MDNI!, kissing, making out, boobs, fondling, romance, sexual tension, semi-spicy scenes, lemon

Link to My Master List

Its mid-afternoon in the UA library. The early Spring sunlight is streaming through the tall windows and across the sci-fi novel you're flipping through. You sigh; content to finally have a Saturday off after a grueling few weeks of classes, training and internship activities.

You think back to a particularly tough training session that had taken place the day before - you had finally kicked Shoto Todoroki's ass in front of the whole class. You smile as you remember the shocked look on his face as you reached down to help him back to his feet.

"You had it coming, hot stuff." You winked as he grabbed your hand and let you pull him back to standing position. His face had flushed red in humiliation at the loss.

You're suddenly jerked out of your reverie when a figure looms over you, casting a long shadow on the desk before you. You turn, startled. As if pulled from your daydream, Shoto Todoroki has materialized before you – tall and handsome. You look up at him in surprise, mouth half open.

"I think we should kiss." Shoto's deep voice says above you, his tone neutral.

"Huh?" Your mouth drops fully open. Shoto is looking down at you with eyes alight with determination. That cute blush is back - splashed across his pale cheeks and across his aristocratic nose.

"I was thinking back to our fight yesterday, and the reason why I lost. It was because I was thinking about kissing you the whole time. I let myself get distracted. I think that if we kissed, I could get over it and refocus on training." So matter-of-fact! That was one thing you liked about Shoto - he was straightforward.

"Um...okay." With an effort, you close your gaping mouth. You’re absolutely dumbfounded. Shoto has never shown any romantic interest in you before. You’ve never caught wandering eyes on you in class, he’s never stashed a love note in your locker. None of the typical school love tropes have been leveraged here. If anything, the two of you are loose acquaintances on the cusp of being friends. Maybe a few more months of class and group activities together would have helped you bridge the gap and fully form a decent friendship.

You wonder if he’s been into you all this time, or if this is just a whim he’s exploring. Either way - who are you to let an opportunity to kiss a hot guy go by the wayside? You snap your book shut and stand. "You want to do this right now?"

Shoto nods, and turns to walk away with the expectation that you’ll follow. You get up and sweep your things into your bag, heart beating double time. You quickly jog to catch up with Shoto – he’s already out the door. The two of you walk across the UA grounds in silence, your footsteps falling into a soft rhythm.  Your mind is going at a million miles per minute – could this all be an elaborate prank? Shoto has never struck you as the type to play a cruel joke on a classmate. Quite the opposite – when he’s not training he seems so soft and sweet. He strikes you as more of an introvert than anything else. He keeps people at a safe distance. You’ve always been under the impression that when it comes to Shoto, trust is earned, not freely given.

You wonder if this kissing business means that you’ve earned a bit of that trust? Who’s to say.

“So…” you say, attempting to break the tension. “Where are we going?” 

Shoto looks back at you, confused. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re going to my dorm room.”

“Oh.” You pause. “Wouldn’t that be a bit inappropriate? Like, what if someone catches us kissing in your dorm room? Won’t we get in trouble?”

“I’ll lock the door.” He says sensibly. “It’s no one’s business but ours.”

“Huh.”

“Oh – I think I understand what you’re getting at.” He runs a hand through his hair reflexively. “It’s no wonder you’re one of the top members of the class. A good hero always has a strategy. So we should come up with an alibi.” He brings his thumb to his chin as he stares into space, pondering.

“If someone catches us, I can say that I experimentally froze my lips with my power and that I asked you to help me warm them up. Naturally, the best way to do so was with your lips.” He turns to you expectantly to gauge your reaction.

What the actual hell, Shoto.                                                          

“You’re um…you’re fucking with me, right?” You look at him uncertainly. Shoto’s unusually harsh upbringing has caused him to be shockingly literal at times. Your eyes scan his face until the corner of his mouth quirks upwards into a small smile.

“Yes, I am.”

You burst out laughing at the unexpected joke, and his tiny smile grows into a full grin. He likes making you laugh.

“Listen…” He says reassuringly, “No one is going to bother us – it’s such a nice day. I overheard some of the girls saying they were going to take pictures near the campus cherry blossom trees. They roped Midoriya, Ida and a few other classmates into the activity as well. Bakugo, Kirishima and Sero are all training across campus in the gym. We should have at least an hour or two before anyone comes seriously looking for us.”

Wow. That must be the longest group of sentences he’s ever said to you directly.

“You’ve really thought this through.” You say, following him across the threshold of Class 1A’s dorm complex.

He smirks. “I’m strategic.”

You look at him appraisingly. He looks clean and trim in his tailored UA uniform. Aside from the scar surrounding his eye, he has the most perfect skin of anyone in your class. While the rest of your classmates have been stressing about moisturizer and SPF and acne treatments, you’ve watched Shoto sail through his hormonal teens without a skincare care in the world. The skin of his cheeks is the color of porcelain and looks so, so soft and deliciously kissable. His face holds a mixture of determination and apprehension.

You enter the kitchen and common room area of your dorm and see that it’s completely, blessedly empty - odd for a Saturday. Shoto is right - it is one of the first nice spring days on campus. You assume everyone is out enjoying the nice weather as he said. This is a good thing – it means your clandestine meeting with Shoto can stay secret. Everyone in Class 1A can be so nosy sometimes. You’re determined to keep this juicy little secret between the two of you.

He leads you up towards one of the hallways that encompasses the boy’s dorms, pausing in front of his door to fiddle with his key. His usually steady hands are shaking a bit as he turns the lock and pushes open the door to reveal his immaculately clean bedroom with it’s traditional Japanese décor.

You step inside and slide off your shoes, letting your bag drop to the floor.

“I forgot how traditional your space is, Shoto.”

He closes the door behind you and clicks the lock into place before discarding his keys on his desktop. He looks around the dorm room thoughtfully.

“It’s how I grew up. I never really had the chance to develop my own taste or style.”

“Maybe now that you have your own space, you finally can!” You say enthusiastically. “If you’d ever like to go shopping or want help putting together a Pinterest board, Mina and I can definitely help you find some inspiration.”

His flat line of a mouth quirks up into another small smile. “I haven’t really had the time to think about anything other than school work and the L.o.V. since we moved into the dorms. Maybe you’re right – this could be an opportunity to broaden my horizons. See what I like.”

“Yeah! There are so many fun ways you can bring more of yourself into this space. We can start with a throw pillow.” You say knowledgably, pulling up the Pinterest app on your phone. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

You type the color into the search bar, and immediately the screen is flooded with hundreds of different shades of blue throw pillows – all kinds of patterns and sayings and beading and embroidery. You hand him your phone and encourage him to scroll through the options.

“I’m sure we can find something that makes you feel like you.”

His eyes soften a bit as he takes the phone from you, intrigued. He scrolls through the colorful images, overwhelmed by the options. After a few minutes of careful deliberation, he finally stops and double taps a picture, hyperlinking to a website.

“This. This feels like it could be me.” He sends himself the link so he can purchase the pillow later. He hands back your phone and you take a curious look – the image he’s drawn to is a long rectangle of fabric shaped like a whale. It has navy blue stripes along with a small curved tale and button eyes sewn on. You look up and see that the tips of Shoto’s ears are bright red.

“This isn’t what I was expecting – but I see now that it suits you perfectly.” You say, picturing the whale pillow in his room – a dash of whimsy against the otherwise stuffy outdated décor.  He practically glows at the compliment. You realize that this is likely one of the first times someone is validating a choice he has made for himself. You cough and toss your phone into your discarded bag – the moment feels oddly intimate.

Shoto’s eyes scan across your face and he speaks his next words slowly, almost deliberately. “This is what I’ve always liked about you, y/n. You always seem to know what to say to get someone to smile or to open up. Admirable traits in a future hero.” You feel your own face heating up at the sweet compliment. Shoto has never given you so much direct attention outside of class, and it’s exciting and almost unnerving to have those two intense eyes focused in entirely on you.

“Thank you Shoto, that’s a very kind thing to say.” You suddenly realize how very close Shoto’s face is to your own. He’s only a few breaths away. Shoto is a few inches taller than you, so you need to crane your neck in order to get the full picture of his beautiful face. You wonder nervously if he expects you to initiate – should you reach out and grab his face? Your heart starts beating much too fast and you see his intense eyes dart down to your lips, wanting. You take a step closer to him, leaning up to meet his face, and…

“Let’s get started.” He says abruptly, breaking the moment. He walks over to his closet and pulls out his bedroll, hastily moving to set up his sleeping space so that you’ll have a comfortable place to sit. Once he sets up the space, he takes a seat on the soft mattress and motions for you to join him. This wasn’t really what you were expecting, but you remember that Shoto is pretty sheltered. He clearly has a plan in mind here, so you decide to let him take the lead.

“Alright, before we start – I just want you to know that we can stop at any point you’d like. I want you to be comfortable here, so please let me know if at any time you feel like you don’t want to continue. Ok?”

You nod, appreciating the dialogue and Shoto’s forethought surrounding consent.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Leaning his head back, he exhales slowly through his nostrils. After a moment of deep breathing, his eyes flutter open. “It’s an exercise my father taught me for clearing my nerves before a battle.” He explains as he runs a nervous hand through his two-toned hair.

“Are you anticipating a battle here?” You tease, reaching over to place your hand on his thigh. Shoto eyes the hand curiously before matching your gaze.

“Of course not. But surprisingly – I have the same feeling of anxiety now that I usually have right before a sparring match.” His expression is stone cold serious, not even the hint of a joke this time.

“I understand that. It’s nerve wracking to kiss a person for the first time.” You quickly double back on your words. “N-not that I’m implying that this is your first kiss or anything, I-”

Shoto blinks. “Oh – this is my first kiss. I thought it was fairly obvious.”

“Oh! Oh, Todoroki – I didn’t realize!” You trip over your words a bit and it brings out a soft smile in Shoto.

“I think that’s why I’ve been so distracted lately. Once I know how it feels, maybe then I can move on and focus back on my training and studies. Is this not your first kiss?” He tilts his head to the side, questioning. You see no hint of jealousy in his eyes – he’s legitimately curious.

“N-no. I’ve kissed a few people before. Never anything serious! Just here and there at summer camp.” You smile weakly, face burning. Shoto nods appreciatively at your candid answer.

“That makes sense – you’re very competent at everything you do. And very attractive.” This last part brings a blush across Shoto’s pale cheeks. “I had assumed there were plenty of people who have wanted to be kissed by you.” The compliment is unexpected and it makes a laugh bubble up your throat. You start giggling and Shoto seems taken by surprise.

“Did I say something funny?”

“No – no! You’re just so sincere and sweet and I am so nervous right now. Shoto you’re competent and attractive, too. I hope that you know that!” This brings his smile back out again, like the sunshine after a long rainstorm.

“Why don’t we just get it over with, then? I’ve read a few articles and studied some movies and…well, I think I’m as prepared as I can be.” Shoto’s face is so open and earnest your heart squeezes in your chest. He studied for this??

Slowly, carefully, Shoto reaches out a delicate hand to cradle the side of your face. He scoots somewhat awkwardly closer to you, but the rest of his movements hold his typical grace. He leans forward, eyes half closed, and brings his lips to your own.

You dip your head to receive the kiss, and you feel his soft lips melt against yours. You close your eyes and revel in the feeling of his mouth. Everything about him is soft and electric at the same time – the points where your bodies are connected feel charged with some kind of buzzing energy that leaves your breathless. And just as soon as it’s begun – it’s over. A brief peck, a stolen moment in time. Shoto pulls away from you, eyes wide, as he catches his breath.

“So?” You ask, trying for nonchalance but failing when you realize your voice is just a hoarse whisper. “What did you think?”

“It’s…” Shoto looks at you thoughtfully, touching his fingers to his tingling lips. “It wasn’t what I was expecting. I just feel like I want to do it more – like I need to keep going.”

You laugh – “Did you really think you’d want to stop after your first kiss?” Shoto shrugs, unwilling to answer the question.

“Can we kiss again? Please. If you’d like to, that is?” He asks, and you note the want in his voice. You’ve never heard Shoto Todoroki sound desperate for anything in his life before this moment. You’re surprised at how he sounds fairly desperate for you.

You smile at him and lean in close, bringing your foreheads together. You can feel different temperatures playing across his skin as he works to keep his quirk in check as excitement roars across his body.

“Follow my lead, lover-boy.” You whisper, before crashing your lips together. You move at a faster pace this time, showing him how to slide his mouth against yours to have a proper make out. He picks it up quickly and absolutely relishes in it. His eyes are closed and his hands find either side of your face again. You let him hold you like that for a few minutes before you decide to take the reigns a bit more. You reach out to place a hand on his chest and softly push him away from you.

“Here – this will make things a lot easier.” You stand up and move to straddle him, slowly sliding into his lap and wrapping your legs around his back. You place his hands on your waist and wind your arms around his neck. “Comfortable?” He nods, his eyes blown wide and almost glassy with lust.

“This is okay?” He asks, looking down at the way his hands grip your hips.

“Absolutely. You’re going to want them there for leverage.”

“Leverage?” He asks weakly, his eyes trained on your lips.

“You’ll see.” You smile deviously as you take in how absolutely undone Shoto looks. “Okay, next step – have you done any research on French kissing?”

Shoto nods again, looking a bit uncertain. “I watched a romantic comedy online and at the end the main couple kissed that way.”

“Well it’s super easy – I’ll walk you through it.” You tilt your head towards his and melt your lips back together, starting out with a slow and soft kiss. As he begins to get comfortable with the pace of your kissing, you move to deepen it – running the tip of your tongue across his lips. He naturally opens his mouth to you, and you move so that your tongues meet. You guide him into a light dance, your kisses becoming more frantic as your mouths and tongues collide. This brings out a ferocity in Shoto that you hadn’t expected, and you feel his hands grip your hips with almost bruising force. You groan, turned on by the contact. You automatically rock your hips into his and he stills at the motion. You blush as you realize that you can feel Shoto’s dick becoming hard beneath you. Shit.

His hands fly off of your hips and he sits back, mortified.

“I’m so sorry-” you start to say as he runs his hand anxiously through his hair again. Shoto takes a deep breath and looks at you, eyes still fuzzy.

“Don’t be sorry! That was amazing, I just…didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He looks down between you pointedly. He doesn’t want you to get freaked out by the fact that he’s got a boner.

“Oh I’m not uncomfortable at all! Actually, quite the opposite.” This answer makes Shoto’s sculpted eyebrows fly up into his hair.

“Really?” He whispers.

“Yeah. It’s actually really hot.” You reach down and take his hands in yours, moving them back to your hips. You make piercing eye contact with Shoto as you roll your hips experimentally again – feeling his hardness even through your clothes. He groans at the contact this time, a soft sound that is just: So. Goddamn. Hot.

You grind against him again, picking up a steady rhythm as Shoto enthusiastically moves your hips. Struck by sudden inspiration, you lean forward to kiss a sloppy line up his neck. This draws a moan from Shoto that you weren’t expecting – low and sweet. You smile as you continue to kiss his neck, using your tongue when you find a particularly sensitive spot beneath his ear.

Shoto grabs your face with one hand and tilts your head up before crashing his lips back into yours. His kisses are heated and passionate as he bounces you on his lap, making you both see stars. You’re so wet you can feel yourself soaking through your panties. You pray that your school uniform pants won’t get damp beneath you – how embarrassing would that be?! At the same time - you don’t give a damn; Shoto’s mouth and his hands and his dick feel far too good. At the moment kissing Shoto Todoroki feels like the only thing you were put on this goddamn earth to do.

Tentatively, you feel Shoto’s hands wander up from your hips. You moan into his mouth as his hands find your breasts. “How is this?” He whispers hoarsely, running delicate fingertips across the peaks of your breasts. “Is this okay? I can stop if you want me to.” You moan your consent enthusiastically, and when he begins to softly knead your boobs over your shirt, your hormones fully take the wheel.

You hop off your classmate so you can quickly unbutton your shirt – your tie flying off as you work. Shoto remains sitting on the floor and does the same with his own uniform. In a moment he is sitting shirtless and beautiful before you, chest heaving as he works to catch his breath. He stares at you with bright eyes as you stand above him in nothing but a bra and UA’s uniform slacks. He has never seen a woman with so little clothing on before, and he is in awe.

You kneel down beside him on the bedroll and reach out to touch his perfect body. Your hand hovers above his perfectly sculpted abs and you look up at him, eyes asking permission. He nods, giving you his blessing to touch. You smooth your fingertips lightly across the defined planes of his chest and abs, marveling in all that he is. Your palm comes to rest against his chest and you feel his heartbeat – a quick staccato beneath your delicate hand. You push him lightly so that he moves to lie on the ground before you.

“You alright with all this?” You whisper, moving slowly to straddle him on the ground.

“If I get to have you on top of me again – absolutely.” And he grins – a genuine smile that radiates comfort. You’ve never seen a look like that before on Shoto’s face and it stops you in your tracks. You just want to bask in the glow of the rare gift of his beaming face.

After a moment, you collect yourself and move so that you’re on all fours and hovering over him. You shiver – you’ve never been so close to someone in this way before. He seems to notice your hesitation.

“You look cold – do you want to grab a blanket?” He reaches up and runs his hands up and down your arms, giving you more goose bumps. You nod, and he reaches to grab a thick grey knit blanket that’s folded neatly to your left. He pulls you down to lay on top of him and easily casts the blanked across your intertwined bodies. The knit feels luxurious and expensive – and it smells deliciously like Shoto. A scent that’s a mixture of sandalwood and fresh sheets wafts around you. It’s comfortable and warm and you feel so, so happy to be sharing this moment with Shoto.

He wraps his arms around you and feels himself get hard again at the delicate feeling of your bare skin against his own. He pulls you in for a kiss – and this time the passion is slow, sensual. You’ve never kissed someone like this before – like you have all the time in the world. He moves his hands up and down your bare back beneath the blanket – warming you up. He’s keeping his ice quirk at bay – both of his hands are the perfect temperature as they run across your soft, supple skin. His hands come to rest on your lower back as he moves to experimentally kiss down your collarbone.

“Oh! Oh, Shoto, yes.” Is all you can say. The use of his given name seems to turn him on even more, because his kisses become sloppier and he runs the edge of his teeth against your skin. He continues to kiss down your shoulder, pausing for only a moment in order to roll you both over so that he can have a turn on top. You gasp at the sudden movement – the dynamics have unexpectedly shifted and Shoto is in total control.

He gazes down at you, shifting the blanket so that it doesn’t get tangled between your bodies.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says, a note of wonder in his voice. “Your skin is so soft…I never realized how great it would be to touch you.” He runs a light fingertip across the delicate skin of your neck and across the expanse of your collarbone. He watches as he runs his finger down the slope of one of your breasts, stopping when he meets the soft cotton of your bra.

“Can we take this off?” He whispers, moving to palm your breast over the delicate white material. You nod, and prop yourself up so you can reach behind yourself to unclip the clothing. With a light “pop!” the bra clip comes undone and Shoto helps you discard the item. He takes in your breasts with a look of absolute amazement and cautiously reaches out to touch them. He gently runs the palm of his hand across your right breast experimentally. You gasp at the contact, and he nervously glances at your face to make sure you’re not in any discomfort. You smile at him, encouraging him to keep going. He kneads the breast in his strong hand a few times before experimentally rolling his thumb over your nipple. You gasp at the contact as pleasure surges through you – you had no idea you were so sensitive. Shoto repeats the motion, earning a soft moan. He smiles at the praise – unexpectedly mischievous as he moves so that he’s kneeling over you, able to tackle a breast with each hand. He goes to work pinching and massaging and rolling your breasts between deft fingers, drawing the sweetest sounds from your mouth.

“Shoto!” You cry out as he moves to spread more kisses across your neck as his left hand plays with one of your breasts. You reach down and squeeze the muscular plane of his ass, begging him to grind into you. He gets the message loud and clear – moving against you gently so that you can feel his hardness graze against you.

He’s causing so many delicious sensations across your body with his lips, hands, hips, groin – it’s almost too much. You feel like you might drown in him when suddenly –

A knock on the door causes you both to still.

“Todoroki?” Mr. Aizawa’s voice is muffled behind the door. You’re both rigid with fear. Shoto’s lips are at your neck and his breath tickles your bare skin. Your fist is tightly squeezed around his left ass cheek. You stare at the ceiling as you start to panic, wondering wildly what you’re supposed to do in this situation. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

Mr. Aizawa knocks on the door again. “Todoroki – your father is here to see you.”

“My father?!” Shoto blurts out before he can stop himself. He scrambles off of you and looks around in a panic. “Why’s my father here?”

The walls seem to be thinner than you thought, because Mr. Aizawa supplies an answer from the other side of the locked door.

“Endeavor had a press conference at a hotel down the road this morning. He wanted to check in and discuss internships. I left him waiting in the common area. I’ll be in my office if you want to grab any internship paperwork while he’s here. I wouldn’t keep him waiting, kid.”

“Of course – thank you Mr. Aizawa!” Todoroki calls through the door awkwardly, listening as your teacher’s footsteps recede into the distance.

You and Shoto stare at each other in absolute horror.

“Do you think he heard us? Do you think h-he knows?” You whisper, panic lacing your voice.

Shoto shakes his head no as he gathers up his shirt and shakily tries to re-button it. “No – I don’t think he was out there long enough to hear anything incriminating.”

You let out a breath of anxious air, reaching for your discarded bra. “Thank goodness.” You re-clip your bra and shrug on your shirt.

“Endeavor is here?” You eye Shoto with concern as he dawns his tie and straightens his hair in a wall mirror on the back of his door.

“My old man likes to pop up at inconvenient times.” Content with his hair, he looks down at you. You’ve started to fold up his blanked and bedroll, patting down your own hair along the way.

“We should probably talk about what just happened…” He starts to say, but you shush him as you hear heavy footsteps coming from down the hall.

“Shoto!” A booming voice rings through the hallway, sending shivers up your spine. The heavy footsteps come to a stop right outside Shoto’s dorm door. The doorknob rattles as someone tries the lock. “How dare you keep me waiting!”

“I’ll be out in a minute, old man!” Shoto calls back bitingly. He glares at the door, thankful for the meager lock. He turns to look at you, and his eyes fill with panic. You scan the room for a place to hide – there is absolutely nowhere to conceal yourself in Shoto’s sparse, plain room.

Suddenly, you’re struck with inspiration – you point to the window. Shoto nods in agreement, dashing to grab your things from where they lay abandoned at the threshold of the door.

Quietly, you pad over to the window and pull back the curtains by a foot. You unlatch the window and slide it softly open before hoisting yourself into the wide window frame. It’s lucky you’re not afraid of heights – because Todoroki’s room is on the fifth floor. There is a small escape ladder for fire emergencies (you smile at the irony of Endeavor being the fire emergency in this case). You move to settle your feet on the top rung of the ladder, with plans to climb your way back to the ground so you can re-enter the dorm building from the back.

Shoto leans out the window and hangs your messenger bag around your shoulder.

“Find me later so we can discuss this.” He says, looking apprehensively over his shoulder as his father continues to bang on the door and callout his name. “I’m sorry this ended with you having to sneak out the window like some sort of criminal.”

“Ah, it’s no big deal! Makes it more exciting.” You grin and he smiles back. He leans forward and presses a small kiss to the corner of your mouth before moving back to close the window.

As he slides the glass closed, he says to you “I don’t think this is going to help me refocus. If anything, I’m more distracted than ever.” You give him a wink as he shuts the window soundly, drawing the curtains to cover your escape.

Hastily, you climb down 5 stories worth of thin metal ladder, landing gracefully in the soft spring grass. You walk to the dorm’s back entrance and let yourself in, walking past the laundry room and up towards the common area. Mina waves at you as she tosses some clothes into the washing machine, and you say a silent prayer thanking the powers that be that none of your friends had come looking for you while you spent your blissful hour hidden away, half-naked and moaning, in Shoto Todoroki’s room.

You climb the stairs two at a time until you hear the voice of the Number 2 Hero grumbling in the common area. Curious, you peak around the corner to see Shoto and his father seated on one of the couches, sorting through paperwork. Shoto has a dead look behind his eyes as his father lectured him about the importance of networking. He nods blankly a few times before his eyes catch sight of your small frame hiding around the corner. His entire face softens at the sight of you. Endeavor notices and turns to see what’s captured his son’s attention.

“You there! Are you a member of Class 1A?” He booms out, almost polite in his delivery. You walk out into the room, drawing yourself up to your full height.

“Dad – this is my classmate Y/N. She lives on the girl’s side of the dorm. Her quirk is extremely powerful.”

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Endeavor.” You say, trying not to blush at Shoto’s compliment. Endeavor waves you off with a fiery hand.

“Ah, that’s right. I recognize you from the Sport’s Festival. Your quirk and fighting style were both quite impressive.” He looks at you appraisingly. “Are you a close friend of Shoto’s?” 

“She is.” Shoto answers smoothly. “Actually, she’s been tutoring me a bit lately on some techniques I’m not familiar with. She’s a greatteacher.” The subtext is not lost on you.

“Surely you don’t need help in your studies, Shoto. You’re at the top of your class.” Endeavor says gruffly, looking to his son for further explanation.

“Just showing him a few moves I picked up in one of my martial arts classes, sir! Shoto picks up new techniques like a Pro.”

Endeavor seems mollified by this answer. “Of course he does. He’s on track to become the best of the best.” The hero claps his hand on Shoto’s shoulder proudly, and you smile weakly at the discomfort that flashes across Shoto’s eyes.

“Well – I’ll let you both get back to your work! Shoto – if you want to practice those techniques again later, I’ll be in the library until 8 tonight.”

You see Shoto ever so slightly lick his bottom lip. His face is tinged with the lightest of blushes.

“Got it. I’ll see you there, Y/N.”

You have a feeling that Shoto isn’t going to be able to focus on his studies for quite some time.

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

PART 2

Link to My Master List

[paradiseprincesss]

ok ok hear me out jonathan crane x batgirl fic? Omggg

moonlight - jonathan crane x batgirl!reader

masterlist

notes: yeah so jonathan x batgirl reader is always made to be dark and i wanted to bring a new perspective to this trope. working hard every day for my pookies so i can feed u new fics all the time

summary: you and your secret lover have little rendezvous throughout gotham, but you both grow tired of the secret keeping and leading a double life. why not just run away together and leave your alter egos behind in the city of gotham?

word count: 3.1k (sigh, this was meant to be a drabble...)

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, oral (f!receiving), kissing, secret & established relationship, reader and jon are both whipped af lol, FLUFF like...lots of it

you sighed as you leant against the ledge of a terrace that peered out onto gotham city. it was nearly midnight, and here you were, stood alone on the highest floor of a parkade. well, not totally alone.

"thought i might find you here," a voice calls from behind you, "you look rather sad, darling."

turning around, you see jonathan in his usual suit and tie, along with the burlap scarecrow mask covering his face. he makes his way over to you, towering over you by a long shot with his tall height. he peers down at you, his strikingly blue eyes watching you through the little holes in his mask.

"i hate this city," you say solemnly, "everything is corrupt, and everyone has lost all their morals."

"that's gotham for you, sweetheart." he says matter-of-factly, now looking out onto the cityscape with you.

as the warm, summer breeze blows past both of you, neither of you speak. you stay silent at his remark, and he picks up on how your feeling. he knows you - he knows you very well. jonathan sighs, and for a minute, it was like just the two of you existed in this very moment in time.

"we'll move somewhere far away," he says softly, pulling you into his side as his hands rested on your waist, "i promise. i'll find us a quiet house in a quiet neighbourhood, and it'll be just us for the rest of eternity."

you look up at him lovingly, and he returned the same expression as he looked down at you. this wasn't how it was supposed to be - villains and hero's aren't meant to fall for one another. yet, here you were, wrapped in your so called "enemies" embrace. but you wouldn't change it for the world.

jonathan still recalls the day you first met, the memory ever so vivid inside of his mind. you were out fighting crime or whatever it was that you were doing that night, and he was out doing his typical, no-good, illegal activities. you know, fear-gassing and poisoning people; the usual. you'd stumbled across jonathan - or as you knew him back then, the scarecrow - finishing up what appeared to be a drug deal of some sort in an abandoned warehouse.

jonathan remembered the way his heart staggered when he saw you in your tight, slightly very skimpy, little latex bodysuit that you wore. the matching thigh high boots didn't help, and neither did that awfully pretty face of yours. he almost forgot you were batmans accomplice for a second, your appearance distracting him greatly.

"batgirl," he cooed mockingly, watching your every move, "so nice of you to finally join me."

"scarecrow," you sneered, "i've been looking for you."

"i'm flattered, darling. i really am." he says to you, making your blood boil.

"shut up-"

"and might i say, that latex suit is leaving very little to the imagination. if i knew this was how you would show up, i would've made plans to run into you sooner." he says, interrupting you as he cooed mockingly once more with hungry eyes trailing your body.

suddenly, you felt vulnerable and exposed under his scrutiny and lingering gaze. you cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself as you felt his eyes lingering on your body.

"don't bother trying to run-"

"oh, trust me, i'm not running off anytime soon. my goodness, batgirl. aren't you just a sight for sore eyes?" he cuts you off once more, stepping closer to you.

"...what?" you say with a dumbfounded tone, looking at him incredulously.

the two of you often laughed about the way you had met - the circumstances were a little odd, sure, but that just made the whole story of how you met even cuter. jonathan was never one to be so straight forward - until he met you. and you weren't one to fall so easily for a man, but that was before jonathan was in the picture. after your chance encounter with one another, you kept running into each other.

each time, you would threaten him, and he would flirt with you in retaliation. you'd tell him you had him corned for real this time, and he'd tell you that he had no complaints - he once said if you killed him then and there, he'd "die a happy man." the whole back and forth of you aggressively threatening him while he flirted with you went on for months, but eventually you cracked.

you didn't want to cave in, but once you saw what he looked like under that mask, you were folding like a goddamn lawn chair. the second you pulled the scarecrow mask off of his face, your jaw dropped. he was so attractive - and of course, he felt the same way from the moment he saw you. within a minute of the mask being pulled off his head, you were tangled up in his arms as he backed you into a wall, kissing you feverishly.

at first, there wasn’t a title to your “relationship,” but neither of you could give each other up. he needed you and you needed him. that was that. one night, as the two of you met up in secret once more, he asked you on a proper dinner date - which you agreed to, of course. it was romantic; he took you to a gorgeous, high-end restaurant that was classy and very...him. that same night, something shifted in the dynamic you two shared. it wasn’t just scarecrow and batgirl anymore - it was two people who were falling hopelessly in love.

from then on, the two of you were head over heels for one another, but both of you agreed to keep it a secret. when the sun was out during the day, you two were a normal couple; happily in love and holding hands as you walked down the streets of gotham. but by nightfall, you were strangers, no - enemies. it helped that nobody knew your alter egos, so during the day you two could be happily in love. but it was also a hassle to have to sneak around like two teenagers in love when the night crawled around.

his accomplices and the gotham rogues of the city couldn’t know that he was in love with batgirl, and you couldn’t have your accomplices or worse, bruce wayne, finding out you were devoted to the one person you shouldn’t be devoted to. i mean, it was past just a fling at this point.

it was love.

you two shared an apartment together (and a dog!). it was commitment at its finest. at first, the whole secret keeping and hush hush of it all was a little thrilling, but over time it got tiring. why couldn’t you just be happy? why did it have to be this way? you didn’t want to hide it anymore.

as you stood in the empty parkade with jonathan, you suggested an idea that you had been thinking about for a while now.

“why don’t we just run away?” you ask softly, coming back to reality as you looked up at the man who you adored dearly.

“what, like right now?” he asked, watching you through the scarecrow mask.

“what’s stopping us?” you asked before answering your own question, “well, your job actually. never mind, i’m being irrational.”

“i could find a job as a psychiatrist practically anywhere,” he shrugged, “there’s a shortage of doctors in every city.”

“that is true,” you say back, and his hand gripped your waist tighter now, “but what about my schooling?”

“you can transfer, can’t you?” he asked casually.

“…well, yeah.” you say with a small chuckle. you were surprised he wasn’t opposed to such a reckless decision, he was usually the rational one. “i just thought you wouldn’t be so…i dunno, okay with it, i guess.”

“don’t you know how much i love you, moonlight?”

moonlight.

that was his nickname for you. something about it was so saccharine, so sweet but so fitting at the same time. jonathan thought it suited you perfectly because you were his moonlight. beautiful but sensual. your love was magnetic and addictive - magical, almost. just like how the moon brought a sense of calm and comfort to many, you brought a sense of calm and comfort to jonathan.

“you know i love you just as much,” you say softly, intertwining your hands with his, “the most, actually.”

“impossible,” he scoffs playfully, "...let’s runaway. leave our lives behind.”

you smile sweetly at jonathan, a love drunk expression painted on your face - he was truly the only man you had eyes for. “and abandon our…hobbies?” you ask softly.

“i’m willing to leave it all behind,” he nods, “as long as it means i get to have forever with you.”

for a moment, you thought you were going to cry from his sentimental confession. you thought there must’ve been something in the air tonight, but he was also never short of showing you all his love and affection. you stared up at him speechlessly as tears welled in your eyes from the romantic moment shared between the two of you. just two lost souls tailor made for each other.

“moonlight,” he whispered, “you and me, forever.”

“you and i, forever.” you whisper back, and he kissed you softly.

after breaking apart from the kiss, the two of you head back to your shared apartment. neither of you slept that night, and jonathan took the following day off of work. together, you spent the next twenty four hours searching for a new home far, far away. next came the plane tickets, and suddenly, you had bags on top of bags stacked in the departure gate.

“i can’t believe you quit your job for this.” you laugh softly, leaning your head against his shoulder as the two of you lined up to board the plane. “and your…side hustle.”

“i have a new job waiting for me in florida,” he said softly, kissing the top of your head, “and you have your new university waiting for you.”

“this is true.”

the flight was uneventful, you fell asleep on him and he had awoken you when the plane landed. the following week went by in a blur, the two of you moved into your new beach front properly in key biscayne. only fifteen minutes away from miami, it was convenient for jonathan to get to his new job, and close for you to drive to your new university where you continued your studies.

he’d given up being scarecrow, and you’d given up being batgirl.

the two of you disappeared without a trace, and all that you left behind was a note on both your behalves saying you were leaving forever, and that you didn’t want to be found.

“this place is so beautiful. i’m so glad we’re out of gotham, i was getting sick of that city.” you say softly, crawling into bed wearing nothing but your lacy, silk slip.

jonathan opens his arms for you - an invitation to come cuddle, and you gladly accept. “i know,” he whispers, “it’s like paradise. but anywhere is paradise with you, moonlight.”

“you softie.” you giggle, as he started to pepper kisses down your neck, making you shiver.

“i love you,” he whispered against your neck, nipping softly at the delicate skin, “let me show you how much i love you.”

you agreed to it, feeling needier than ever. the warm, summer breeze blew through the half-open sliding door of your balcony. the night was young, and the waves crashed over the shoreline softly as the moon hanging high with the stars illuminated your dark bedroom. it was like something out a romance novel - secluded and romantic.

“moving here was the best decision i’ve ever made,” he said softly, slowly slipping the straps of your lace off of you, “i’d do anything for you - but i think you know that, don't you?”

“please, baby,” you whisper, letting him undress you sensually, “i’m forever yours. my heart is in your hands.”

“i think this is what heaven on earth feels like,” he decides, laying himself down between your legs as he slowly started to drag your matching, lacy panties down, “you’re my favourite.”

before you could spew out any more romantic, poetic nonsense, his face was buried between your legs. a soft gasp left your lips, and your back arched instantly as he licked a long, fat stripe up your folds. the only two sounds to be heard in that room was your wetness as he lapped up your soaking cunt, and the waves crashing onto the shore. two sides of the same coin, in an odd but beautiful way.

perhaps jonathan was right - this did feel like heaven on earth.

finally, no more hiding. no more pretending. no more double life. the night was yours, and you allowed it to take you over. for once, you could scream his name all you wanted into the darkness. you were letting him devour you the way you so desperately wanted him to every single time you’d see him prowling around the streets of gotham. every single time you had to pretend he was a stranger.

but jonathan wasn’t a stranger - he was yours.

the feeling of his tongue on your cunt, licking and nipping softly, caused you to moan out his name softly. he continued to leave teasing little kisses all over your soaking pussy, and when he ate you out like a starved man, your legs were starting to shake.

“oh my god,” you gasp, “i-i’m close.”

“you’re divine.” he mused against your cunt as he continued to eat you out skillfully, his tongue reaching all the right places.

all you could get out were breathless moans and cries before you were creaming on his face, and he didn’t stop. he kept licking, nipping, and kissing every part of your pretty pussy until you had to physically push his head away from your slick coated thighs and trembling legs.

“i could eat you out forever,” he sighs, looking down at you as he started to pull his plaid pyjama pants down, “you taste so sweet, like candy.”

you blush and roll your eyes playfully at his comment, trying to ignore the way it went straight to your head. he pushed you back onto the pillows of the bed softly, and lined his throbbing cock up with your slick folds. you both let out breathless moans when he bottomed out inside of you, and your hands reach up to his shoulders as he started to thrust himself in and out of you.

the stretch was intoxicating, and it felt like his cock was made for your cunt. as the head of his cock continued to brush up against that spongy spot inside of you, your eyes started to roll back into your head from the immense pleasure your boyfriend was giving you right now. your plush walls clenched down on his veiny cock, and both of you were losing yourself in a mixture of moans and overwhelming pleasure.

"you feel brand new every time i fuck you," he said lowly, "jesus - fuck, you feel so good."

his praise had your cheeks burning, but it also had your toes curling and your dripping core clenching on him. as you attempted to look straight into his eyes, you found yourself getting lost in the pools of his icy blue irises. it was almost like he brought you clarity. actually, scratch that - he did bring you clarity.

"i'm, mm, a-already close," you moan as he looked down at you hungrily, "f-fuck, so deep."

he brought your legs up over his shoulder swiftly, pounding your cunt at a deeper angle now. you swore for a minute you were seeing stars as he plowed himself in and out of your slick walls, and you were starting to feel absolutely, positively cockdrunk.

"beautiful," he spoke lovingly, his tone both sweet and saccharine, "cum for me."

the band in your lower stomach snapped as he spoke so softly to you, and your pussy tightened up around his fat cock, causing him to groan at the feeling. your eyes rolled back once more as your legs were trembling over his shoulders, and his name was falling from your lips like you were worshipping him. you did worship him - he was your god.

"thaaaat's it," he groaned, "i need- fuck- i need to fill you up. i need to watch my cum drip out of your pretty pussy."

his words were starting to drive you insane. if you hadn't already lost touch with reality after that heart-stopping orgasm he just gave you, you sure were now.

"please f-fill me up, p-pleeeeease," you begged, whining towards the end of your sentence as your mind started to go blank with the way he was fucking your tight, soaking hole. "i love y-ou, jon-"

as he watched your face twist in pleasure, he couldn't believe how pretty you looked all fucked out from him. your staggered, broken, breathless pleas had his cock twitching. finally, as you told him you loved him, he couldn't hold himself back from filling you up any longer. he almost whispered as his cum spilled into you, painting your walls white as he let every last drop of his seed fill you.

his hips stilled, and your eyes fluttered open as the room went quiet. the only sounds to be heard was the heavy breathing coming from both of you. jonathan smiled sweetly at you, letting out a content sigh before pulling himself out of you gently. you winced slightly at the feeling, but he welcomed you with open arms as you snuggled into his embrace.

quietly, you listened to the splashing water on the shoreline outside of your balcony. the waves were calm today, and the night was warm. the palm trees that surrounded your small, secluded home on the beach brought a sense of tranquility. the both of you let the silence between the bliss linger for a moment longer before jonathan spoke up softly.

"i love you, moonlight." he whispered softly, playing with your hair.

truth be told, jonathan didn't think he could fall any deeper for you than he already had. he just couldn't stop; everything about you made the usually reserved and rather cold ex-con turn soft. you were his night sky, stars, planets and everything in between.

jonathan never knew that he could have moonlight in his hands - until the night he held you.

my taglist (join here!): @galactict3a @xanaxiii @seaamonster @nocturnest @pennybee22

@bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones @oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet

@dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt @ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things

@ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer @aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed

[bicheetopuff]

Hi @nemovanilla ! This is in reference to one of the tags on this post.

Sorry for taking a while to elaborate. I was gonna just explain in a reply but realized the way I explain things is always longer than it needs to be so I figured I respond in its own post. So anyways…

Contents:

I: Nighteye’s unwillingness to admit when he’s wrong

II: Deku’s unwillingness to just accept fate

III: The power of willpower and conviction

IV: Changing fate

V: Conclusion

I: Nighteye’s unwillingness to admit when he’s wrong

So if you’ve followed me for a while, you already know I don’t like Nighteye that much. However, I’ll admit that overtime I realized that I really wasn’t supposed to like him.

He’s overly cynical and critical of Deku despite the fact that he’s just a teenager. A major part of his character is that once he had something in mind, he’d run with it. His word is law to him and it annoyed the shit out of me. But you can’t really blame him because that’s the nature of his quirk. As All Might said, his foresight has never been wrong.

Once he had set in his mind that All Might was going to die, and needed a successor to pass OFA to (despite it not being his decision) he found Mirio and just clung to him. He even admits to himself on his death bed that he only initially took in Mirio for the sake of convincing All Might to make him his successor.

Because of that, he refused to have faith in Deku as All Mights successor and it took him all the up to the day he died to see what All Mights saw in Deku. It was the first time someone had ever proven him wrong.

II: Deku’s unwillingness to just accept fate

Since chapter one, Deku has proved time and time again that he refuses to accept circumstances that he deems unfair no matter how unrealistic his success would be. For example:

-Saving Katsuki from the sludge villain. He had no way of defending himself yet he still ran to save him when no one else would, influencing All Mights actions. If Izuku hadn’t done anything, everyone probably just would’ve stood by idly while watching a middle schooler die.

-Saving Uraraka from the one pointers at the entrance exam. While Uraraka most likely wouldn’t have died cuz she had the means to save herself, Deku still forced himself to do something about it, regardless of being too scared to move just a moment before.

-Convincing Todoroki to take control of his own fate at the sports festival by using both his left and right side.

-Hunting down Iida before he could kill Stain and somehow beating him despite most pros failing to do so.

Saving Kota from Muscular, Katsuki from AFO, Eri from Chisaki, the list goes on. But all of that to say that despite odds being against him in all of these circumstances, he persevered out of pure stubbornness and his unwavering conviction to save as many people as he can.

So, when All Might explained to Deku that he was destined to die, the first thing Deku did was try to figure out how he can change that. Initially it sounds like grief ridden denial but it later takes on a new meaning.

(I find this entire conversation almost ironic. All Might accepts that his fate has already been decided and Deku rebuttals by saying that he’ll be by his side to change said fate. But, throughout the entire final arc, Deku hasn’t even spoken to All Might. He was by someone else’s side (figuratively) changing All Mights fate.)

III: The power of willpower and conviction

So, in the Hassaikai raid:

This is when we start to realize the true meaning of Nighteyes character. The entire point of his character is to be proven wrong (in my opinion).

He represents the expectation of typical shonen tropes and he actively tries to enforce those stereotypes ever since he’s introduced in the story with beliefs similar to “the strongest heroes successor should already slightly stronger than the average person with light hair and light eyes,” hence why he clung to Mirio so much. Mirio fits the “my power is a curse but I’m admirable because I worked really hard to control it” trope and while one can argue that Deku fits this trope too, I don’t think he does. Deku has never viewed OFA as cursed. He’s always considered it a blessing. Controlling OFA took less than a hundred chapters and he was never looked down upon for it.

Oh and don’t forget “the mentors untimely death to further character development for the mc.” If anything, Katsuki took over that one. (Can katsuki be considered a mentor, technically? Since Deku always looked up to him so much and learned from him more than he learned from anyone else? This is a genuine question, pls help)

Those are major ingredients for the shonen formula and, according to Nighteye, that’s fate. Things that are destined to happen in a shonen manga because that’s what always happens in a shonen manga.

By his and most shonen readers standards, Mirio, Katsuki, or Todoroki should’ve been the mc to declare your run of the mill shonen comic book. But they’re not. Fate was changed and stereotypes were pushed already by Deku’s mere existence. He’s fought his whole life against people who didn’t believe in him and Nighteye was no different.

He had to continue proving his haters wrong and being told that he can’t do something furthers his willpower to help people no matter the cost (not that that’s entirely healthy but, you know.)

People that know Deku have seen time and time again that he reaches his goals no matter how steep the hill might be. He never ceases to surprise people (I think Uraraka said something similar at some point but I can’t remember when) so the people around him that know him on the surface, have faith in him.

And according to Nighteye, that’s all they needed.

IV: Changing Fate

Nighteyes foresight changed because Deku and co. refused to lay down and accept fate so, they fought it instead. And won. Deku proved to Nighteye that All Mights fate could be changed.

Skipping ahead to the final war arc, All Might is fighting that villain that was destined to follow through on All Mights unspeakably gruesome death. He starts looking back on his life as he waits for it to happen. People watching the broadcast just accepted that he was about to die.

However…

Remember what was said about faith? Yeah Izuku holds a lot of that in Katsuki. As for a character, other than Izuku (and Dabi but this ain’t about him), with enough will and conviction to change his own fate in order to change his mentors? I can’t think of anyone else but Katsuki.

(The panel of Eraserhead at the press conference after Katsuki was kidnapped was supposed to go here but I ran out of space so I’ll just give the quote: “Any lapse in his behavior is my failing. Still… he behaved that way at the sports festival because he has such strong convictions and ideals… more than anyone, he pursues the title of top hero with everything he’s got. If the villains have mistaken that for a weakness… then their thought process is indeed superficial.”)

Thus, Nighteye’s foresight was changed.

Izuku proved that All Mights fate could be changed, and Katsuki was the one who changed it.

V: Conclusion

This post probably could’ve been a lot shorter and summed up in only a few paragraphs but, where’s the fun in that? I honestly really wanted to talk about it in depth because I find this part of the narrative so poetic and beautiful.

In the Hassaikai arc, everyone had to believe in Deku. In this arc, all Katsuki needed was for Deku to believe in him. Making Deku’s faith in Katsuki just as strong as everyone’s faith in him.

It just kinda reminds me how bnha is really just a parody of shonen manga, calling out really dumb tropes time and time again by referencing western superhero media that’s been pushing away these same tropes for decades now.

Anyways, I hope this is a good enough elaboration lmao. If I keep typing, this post will end up being too long.

[likedovesinthewindd]

2:54 AM

tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

summary: you want to know why peter's been distant lately.

warning: injuries, mentions of typical spiderman violence yk, my inability to write a crime accurately (don't look into it too much), reader's a little oblivious to the obvious.

wc: ± 3000

a/n: i hate this endingg!!!! but i need this out of my drafts. let's also pretend that this trope is so original and not overused at all lmao. requests open:)

The incessant ticking of the clock above your head was beginning to piss you off.

The small restaurant was fairly busy, no one would've even be able to hear it, but you'd chosen the table next to the window–the one with the clock hanging on the wall adjacent to the big glass pane. You'd chosen this table because it was Peter's favorite. He loved watching the bustling city outside as the two of you enjoyed your meals.

You'd think that after living in the city as long as he has, that the scenery would have bore him by now, but he absolutely loved people watching. He could spend hours sitting outside on the rooftop or by the big window in your bedroom, just staring down at the people and cars going about their day or night. He could find entertainment in some of the most mundane activities, and that was one of the many things you adored about your boyfriend.

Right now, however, it was hard to think of how you much you adored him, but rather how mad you were at him. Tonight was your and Peter's six month anniversary, and although you weren't one to celebrate every little milestone, Peter had insisted that you go out for the night. Ironic, since he's not even here right now you thought.

You looked down at your wristwatch, almost in a way to spite the big one that hung right above you, and checked the time. It was a forty-eight minutes past eight. You'd been sitting here for almost 50 minutes waiting for Peter to show up.

You checked your phone, praying he had left a message saying that he was on his way, that he was just running late, but the empty lockscreen staring back at you only made a knot form deep in your belly.

Wait till nine, your mind tried convincing you. He's probably just really caught up at work. So you waited impatiently, your heeled foot nearly tapping a hole into the restaurant floor. After a few more minutes, your waitress approached your table. This was her second time at your table; she had come around first at around twenty minutes past eight, and you had kindly asked her to give you some more time, because you were waiting for someone.

You could see the pity on her face, her probably thinking you got stood up. But you weren't getting stood up, because Peter was just a bit late, and in a few minutes he'd walk through the door and the two of you'd enjoy a wonderful dinner. At least, that's what you were trying to convince yourself.

"Are you ready to order ma'am?" the waitress asked politely. You shook your head, putting on your most convincing smile. "No not yet, I'm waiting for my boyfriend, he'll be here any minute," you said. The pity on her face only seemed to increase. She gave you a weak smile and a nod, and went on her way to help another table.

You glanced up at the small TV that was displayed against the wall on the other side of the small restaurant. It was replaying an old football game from the previous week, before being interrupted by a local news channel's lives broadcast. The TV was muted, but you could see the headline at the bottom of the screen in big bold letters as the reporter stood gesturing at the scene behind her:

SPIDER-MAN TO THE RESCUE ONCE AGAIN

The fact that the city quite literally had it's own superhero always amazed you. Here this random guy was, jumping around in a blue and red suit, fighting bad guys and catching criminals, basically doing the cops' jobs and for free.

You've never had any personal encounters with the elusive hero, but you've heard enough stories from people about him, about how charming and slightly cocky he was and how they so desperately wanted to know who hid beneath the mask. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a bit curious to know too.

On the screen you could see Spider-Man lowering people from the second floor of some building by his webs. After lowering everyone to safety, he dissappeared back inside the building. It seemed to be some kind of hostage situation, people scurrying around confusedly and police cars surrounding the building.

You were so enthralled by the scene playing out on the screen that you hadn't noticed how much time had passed. When you looked at the little clock being displayed in the corner of the TV, your heart sank once again.

21:05

It was five minutes past nine, and no Peter in sight. You could feel your cheeks burning up from anger. A whole hour. Peter made you wait a whole hour, and it didn't look like he was gonna come any time soon. The anger was quickly replaced by sadness, the tears of frustration already fighting to fall from your eyes. You made your way over to the counter of the restaurant, apologizing for wasting their time and tipping your waitress for her effort, before making your way to the door.

It felt like everyone's eyes were on you. They could all probably tell you've been stood up too. There was no other reason for a girl to be walking out of a restaurant after ordering nothing for an hour with her head down and tail between her legs like a kicked dog.

The air outside was refreshing. You took a deep breath, trying to calm down your racing heart and somehow will the tears away. It was no use; after months of forced stoicism and pretending like Peter's recent negligence didn't hurt, the dam finally broke. You decided to take the walk to your apartment rather than hailing a cab, reasoning that the cool city air would do you good.

On your walk, the sobs continued to leave your mouth quietly. You missed your boyfriend, you missed being able to spend time with him and just be around him. The two of you worked at different times and lived on different sides of the city, so it was already hard to find a time when both of you were free.

The two of you hadn't been together for too long, but it truly felt like Peter was the one for you. When you first made things official you couldn't stay away from each other for too long. You always went on little dates and would meet up whenever the both of you were free, but recently your boyfriend's been very distant and you've been seeing less and less of him. Tonight had been the third date where he'd stood you up, and you couldn't help but think the worst.

What if he was seeing someone else? What if he didn't enjoy being with me anymore and this was his way of asking to break up?

The thoughts left your mind as soon as they were conjured up in your brain. Peter would never do anything like that to you. Not your Peter. He was the sweetest guy you had ever been with and there wasn't a day he wasn't telling you how lucky he was to be with you, or how pretty he thought you were and how much he loved you.

Even on the days the two of you weren't together (which were almost always lately), he'd still send you messages telling you how much he missed you, or would send flowers to your apartment when he knew you were feeling down and he couldn't be there.

Peter was a sweetheart, but you still couldn't help but wonder why he'd been so distant lately. You pulled your phone from your purse, quickly checking to see if he had left a message yet, but still nothing. You shoved your phone back into your purse angrily and started walking faster. All you needed right now was a hot shower and your bed.

As you entered your apartment you hastily toed off your shoes at the door and threw your purse on the nearest table. After a long, piping hot shower and a bowl of leftovers (you still being hungry due to your failed dinner plans), you decided to head to bed, where you cried some more before falling asleep.

A loud banging woke you up in the middle of the night. You checked the alarm clock on your nightstand, and when it read 2:54 AM, you turned yourself back around and ignored whoever chose to bother you at this ungodly hour.

Not even a minute passed before the knocking returned, this time followed by a shout of your name, not loud enough to wake up the whole floor but loud enough for you to hear. When you recognized Peter's voice, you groaned, kicking the covers from yourself begrudgingly before dragging yourself to the door.

You pulled it open aggressively, and when you were met with Peter's silhouette slouching against the doorframe, his head hanging low, all the angry words you had for him sat stuck in your throat. He looked up at you and his big brown eyes found yours in the dark of the hallway. He gave you a weak smile and you had to fight everything inside you to not smile back, reminding yourself why you were mad at him.

"Hi, sweetheart," he whispered. All the anger suddenly returned, and you found yourself slamming the door in his face, but before it could fully close, he blocked it with his foot and invited himself in. When he got out of the dark hallways and inside your apartment, you noticed the bouquet of flowers he held tightly in his hand. They looked like they had been through a lot, and the dress shirt he was wearing (most likely for your date) was untucked and heavily wrinkled.

"I don't want to talk to you," you said, turning your entire body away from him and crossing your arms like an arrogant child, trying to get him to leave, but he was stubborn, putting the flowers on the nearest table, gripping your arms and turning you to face him again. You refused to make eye contact, rather looking down at his pair of dirty sneakers. "I know, but let me explain myself please—"

"And say what?!" you snapped. You hadn't realized how loud you were until you saw Peter flinch slightly, his grip on you still not loosening. "What are you gonna say Peter? You got caught up at work? You had an 'emergency'? You—" when you finally looked him in the face, you got a good look at him in the warm light of your living room/kitchen.

He had a lot of bruising around his face, a rapidly darkening black eye and a busted lip. You looked down at the arms still holding onto you, and you could see similar marks lining his arms. Most of them looked very fresh.

This was another part of Peter that added to up sleepless nights, worrying yourself sick over your boyfriend. He always seemed to have some sort of bruise whenever you'd meet up. Sometimes it was something small like a cut across his eyebrow or a nasty gash on his cheek, and other times it was way more major, like the one time he showed up to a coffee date with a broken arm after being just fine three days prior.

The best part was how fast he'd heal too, no less than a weak and he'd look perfectly fine. It didn't make you feel any better though, and you'd still worry about where he was getting beat up like this.

You tried asking him about it, multiple times, but every time he would just cover it up with a lame joke or just completely try to change the subject. You stopped asking after a while, but that didn't mean you weren't concerned about his safety and curious about what was causing all of these injuries.

"Peter what happened to you? Your face? Are you—" you wanted to reach out and touch his face, but he stopped you with a hand that quickly caught your wrist. "I'm okay," he said, smiling sweetly and giving your wrist a quick kiss, before letting go of your hand. "No you're not. C'mon lemme clean you up," you said grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bathroom, almost completely forgetting about the argument.

The patter of your socked feet filled the quiet of the apartment as you led Peter to the bathroom. You sat him down on the toilet seat and quietly moved around the almost-too-small bathroom, opening up the medicine cabinet above the sink to retrieve the first aid kit. You started to clean the small cuts and gashes on his face.

His hands hesitated before making their way to your waist, holding onto your hips. Every time one of the cuts would sting, his grip would tighten slightly. The silence stretched on while you continued to patch him up, and after a while you decided to speak up.

"Look, Peter, I understand if you don't wanna, y'know be with me anymore, but even if we were to break up I'd still be concerned about you. I don't like seeing you get hurt and i can't help if—"

"Woah, hey what?" Peter interrupted your rambling, "I don't want to break up." "Then why do you keep canceling our plans, how come I never see you anymore?" you asked, pausing the work on his face. He winced slighty when he noticed your anger had returned.

"I've just...I've been busy, sweetheart," he said softly. "I've been busy too Peter, but I make time, because I wanna see you, and because I miss you like crazy. Do you even miss like you say you do? Because it surely doesn't show."

"Of course I do!" Peter said, the grip he had on you unconsciously tightening again. "Then why don't you make time?!" you said, the tears of frustration quickly returning to your eyes, "and what about all these bruises, huh? Every time I see you you're hurt somehow and I don't like that, 'cause I don't like seeing you hurt, Peter." By now a few tears had already unwillingly fallen, and you tried to swiftly wipe them away with the sleeve of your sweater.

It both warmed and broke Peter's heart to know that you were so worried about him. He really did miss spending time with you; you were his best friend and he loved being around you. He didn't want you knowing about him being Spider-Man, because he didn't want to put you in any danger. He wanted to keep you as far away from that part of his life as possible, you meant too much to him and he wouldn't forgive himself if anything happened to you.

He wanted to tell you on many occasions, he'd come close too many times to count, but he'd stop himself each time.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, not knowing what else to say. "Don't apologize, just talk to me, please," you said brushing your fingers through his soft brown hair. The action calmed both you and him down, and he closed his eyes for a moment, appreciating your touch. It was then when he realized how much he missed your touch, how much he missed you, and being close to you. He felt like he hadn't talked to you, or really even seen you in forever.

Peter didn't know what to say, he wanted to be honest with you, wanted to tell you so bad, but he wanted to protect you above all else. The silence between the two of you stretched on until you sighed, removing your hands from him completely and sighing.

He started panicking, he knew what this meant. You were going to break up with him, tell him to get out and never talk to him again, and even the thought alone made his heart sink down to his feet. He braced himself for the inevitable, retracting his hands from your waist and getting ready to get up and leave.

"It's really late, would you like to stay the night?"

He was definitely not expecting you to say that, and the look on his face certainly told you that. "Are you sure?" he asked, not knowing what else to say. "I don't want to taking the train at this time. You can take a shower while I reheat some leftovers for you," you replied dryly, making your way out the bathroom and to the kitchen.

Peter took your advice, still not sure why you weren't screaming at him to get out of your apartment. After a brief shower, he found some of the clothes you had borrowed from him folded neatly on the toilet seat. He put them on and made his way over to the kitchen. After a much appreciated meal the two of you made your way over to your bedroom.

He found himself immediately moving towards the small plush chair that stood by the big window, lowering himself into it and staring down at the city. You stood next to him quietly, placing your hand on his head and running your fingers through the strands once again.

"I promise I'll tell you one day," Peter whispered, turning his head to look up at you. "I know," you replied, "until then, I'll just patch you up when needed."

You wanted so badly to understand what was going on with Peter, but you knew that there was no getting through to him now, because he was stubborn as hell. So you'd take what you could get for now. And in return he'd try and be there more for you, because he missed you, and the selfish part of him loved you too much to let you go, even if that were the right thing to do.

"How about you move in with me?"

[sailorblossoms]

In romances that have action elements, "the love interest of the action hero/protagonist is used to hurt him" (because that's how you target "his heart") is typically a thing...

What’s interesting here is that Agatha was constantly kidnapped as part of playing this role (she was likely constantly kidnapped because she's by far the easier mark; this is also part of the design of the damsel role)... while Simon takes danger very seriously, at some point this becomes practically routine for Penny and him (Penny talks about rescuing Agatha as early as 2nd year, so they likely arrived at this point pretty early on). This is something they do so many times that they sort of don't take it seriously anymore. Not seriously enough, at least. The total confidence that they will save the day is, after all, rooted in "experience" – I mean, why fear for the girl when you have saved her a bazillion times before? When she's always "fine at the end," even if she's pissed?

As much as she was kidnapped, it's never once "Agatha is targeted to hurt me" – it doesn't hurt Simon at all. He never even expresses any worry about it (I'm getting back here). I mean, think about it: Agatha is thinking "I'm always saying that living like this is going to get us all killed but nobody listens to me" when just a little while back Simon was like "I don't need help to rescue Agatha, I've done this hundreds of times before," in the middle of losing his entire goddamn mind for Baz-related reasons, as Simon often does (likely how it played out for years in Watford in a nutshell). Agatha being targeted only truly hurts Agatha... her very serious and valid grievances are met with dismissively confident grins and "don't worry, I'll always save you" as opposed to "how can we prevent this from happening again?” Nobody ever cares to address how she doesn't want to be a target in the first place.

So it really picks my attention how differently Simon behaves when the target is Baz. It doesn't mean Simon doesn't give a shit about Agatha – she's loved like a friend, like someone he grew up with, like one of the very few people in the world who are close to him. She notes that Simon enters the battle looking like he won't leave her behind. But when she's in danger, she's playing a role (even if it's against her will) which gives Simon security (even when it causes the opposite in her).

Agatha being targeted is treated more like part of a job, and in a way, that's what it is. It's Simon's "job" as a hero to protect. During his time in Watford, it's what makes him feel useful. According to the script they're following, the hero always saves the girl... So it makes sense for Simon to never worry about Agatha: worrying contemplates a scenario in which he fails to save her (only Penny and Baz worry, and it comes with the awareness that she could be dead). That's something Simon simply can't do. It's the sort of thinking that goes against the script, which he actively avoids to survive. It would threaten everything that gives him worth and purpose and security; again, heroes always save the girl! He has always saved her before. Anything else is unthinkable.

When Baz doesn't show up, that goes against all roles and scripts they have been following all along... and if you do look at the script, disrupting rival/antagonistic roles tend to go down a path that ends in their destruction. So of course Simon would lose his mind with worry, even if he focuses on "he must be plotting" scenarios. Of course Simon goes restless whenever Baz is out of his sight, even if he doesn't fully get why. After all, Simon's "job" isn't to protect Baz according to their roles, but to fight him. The structure that makes him feel like Agatha's safety is guaranteed at the end would also make him fear that Baz is the opposite.

Ultimately, "the protagonist's love is used to hurt him" is applicable, but not in the way it's usually done (fucking with the female character to further a man's story). Agatha has a voice. It does nothing for Simon's development when she's targeted – on the contrary: his character is stuck in a routine. It highlights her hurt and his flaws. (Perhaps it even creates a contrast, a "before and after Baz," a "Simon who follows a script vs a Simon who finds himself" that shows how Simon struggles with certain thoughtfulness and caring before he's learning by following Baz's cues. He was a neglected child and so he doesn't know how.)

We see this applied when Baz is targeted, and Simon notes, upset, that "Baz was used to hurt him." He has never before made that kind of observation. Baz is a man, and a rival, and a vampire (a "monstrous villain") who's expected to be hurt, but this is no longer follows the script. This follows nothing, so the stakes feel more "real." If Simon doesn't know where Baz is, he grows restless. If there's even the possibility of Baz being in danger or hurt, Simon loses it. This is not about a job, there isn't a (false) sense of security backed up by roles and the precedent set by them. Simon shows us again how much the roles didn't fit Agatha and him toward the end, when the mage is ready to attack Baz, but Simon grabs the mage's wand and redirects it toward his own heart. Baz is his heart. It was never the damsel. You hurt Simon the most when you hurt Baz.

[fleur-de-violette]

Robins, titmice, and other spring birds

AO3

Summary:

There are a lot of things Jason doesn’t understand in the dynamic of the Wayne manor, despite being here for nine months. Maybe a rescue turning a little more dangerous than it should have been for Robin will help him see things clearly? Prompt: Adoption

Note:

Hey! Second bingo fic! So just to be clear, this is set in an alternate universe where Jason was taken in by Bruce before Dick stopped being Robin. Warning for (magical) hypothermia, grief, and near-death experience. I hope you’ll enjoy the story. Many thanks to @ohmytoddhewitt for beta reading !

There are things within the Wayne Manor family dynamics that Jason still has a hard time grasping, despite having lived there for about nine months now.

Dick and Bruce’s relationship is one of them. The two of them could look like a typical teenager and adult relationship at first glance (not that Jason knows much about typical teenager and adult relationships), but there is something more.

They are Batman and Robin, for starters. The news had taken him aback. When Batman had brought him to the cave after that weird night that changed his life, and had removed his cowl, Bruce Wayne had been the very last person Jason expected to find under it.

So, they are Batman and Robin. Heroes of Gotham. And yet, out of masks - sometimes even in masks when no one is looking - they act like a teenager and his parent.

Jason will also, one day, become a hero of Gotham. He had started training as soon as he had regained enough weight to do exercise. Maybe he will be Robin. Maybe he will be something else. But he could stay. In the manor.

Bruce had presented him with the adoption papers about a month ago. Something to link them permanently, to make him his son. Jason still doesn’t know how to feel about that. When he had tried to talk about it with Dick, the older teen had made a weird face and deflected the conversation.

But Jason doesn’t feel as if Dick doesn’t want to be his brother. Despite his rocky relationship with Bruce, he’s always nice and friendly with Jason. He just doesn’t understand why he’s been so dismissive of the adoption thing.  

“The fast-food place in front of the academy is looking for staff,” Dick says carefully, pulling Jason from his thoughts as they eat dinner.

Bruce makes a sound, not a word, and that’s also something Jason has learned to get used to. How Bruce rarely responds with actual words.

Dick doesn’t seem to mind. “I was thinking of applying.”

Alfred gives him a disapproving look. His opinion on fast food is a secret to no one.

“Why?” Bruce asks, and that’s a word, but a lone one, straight to the point. Jason is kind of asking himself the same question.

“I was just thinking it was more than time I started making my own money, that’s all.”

Bruce let out a long sigh that makes Jason think maybe it isn’t the first time they have had this conversation.

“You already have enough things to do with your studies and our nightly activities. If you want to buy something, you can ask Alfred or myself for money. You know we have enough in this household.”

And that’s final. Dick doesn’t bother fighting, just goes back to his meal. Alfred tries to keep the conversation going by asking Jason questions about school, and Jason is happy to indulge.

He had started school in September, two months after meeting Bruce. While he was a bit of a late bloomer compared to his classmates in the beginning, he’s been catching up to them during the last few months. Barbara, Dick, and of course Alfred have helped him with homework when he struggled. By now, he was the first to answer in science class more often than not, and his English teacher had complimented him on his poems.   

Alfred asks the same things to Dick. Jason knows he has a big math test tomorrow afternoon, something he studied a lot for in the last few weeks. But he just skims past it, not letting show the importance Jason knows the test has for him.

Jason can guess why. Test or not, Robin is needed tonight, and Jason can understand that Dick would hate being benched over something as silly as needing rest for a test. Especially since Jason had heard the night before that the Riddler had escaped and was planning something. He knew he wouldn’t want to miss a fight with the Riddler if he was Robin.

But he isn’t, not yet; he needs more training first. So, as soon as the dinner is finished, he jumps in the cave and puts on the training costume Alfred had made him. He wishes Batman and Robin good luck, and Dick ruffles his hair in a way that annoys Jason as much as it makes him feel all warm before jumping into the Batmobile.

A few hours in, and Jason wonders how long Dick trained for before being allowed to go out. Surely, he will be able to fly in the streets of Gotham with them soon. He isn’t a trained acrobat, but he handles himself well, he thinks, smiling as a Batarang falls right into the center of the target.

But then, there is the issue of the hero’s name. Batman had said maybe he could be Robin, but then there would be two Robins, and that would be confusing. He needs another name. Something close to Robin, but not Robin. How about Red Robin? He likes Red, but that’s the name of a burger place, so huge no. Dick calls him Little Wing, something that annoys Jason, but maybe he could make something out of it. He would be the Wings of the Night or something, and… no, that’s ridiculous.

Maybe he should pick a totally different bird name? The Eagle - but no, that’s a rock band. Or The Falcon maybe? It does have more style than Robin. But also, Dick had explained to him that the name isn’t meant to scare people, or inspire respect, but to bring hope, to symbolize spring and colors.

Well, he can say anything he wants, Jason isn’t calling himself Titmouse.

“Master Jason, don’t you think it’s time to go to bed?” Alfred interrupts him, standing behind the training mats. This is something that took Jason some time getting used to, too. Being called “Master”; he told Alfred he could just call him Jason, but the butler firmly refused.  

“I would like to wait until they are back,” Jason says. He knows the idea of Bruce and Dick fighting the Riddler will prevent him from sleeping, anyway.

Alfred gives him a frozen smile, the face he makes then things aren’t going the way he wants them to, but he has to accept them anyway. “Very well,” he says. “But I do not want to hear you complain tomorrow morning when you’ll have to get up to go to school.”

Jason gives him his brightest smile. “I won’t complain. Promise. Thank you, Alfred.”

He keeps training for a bit after that, but they don’t have to wait long before they can hear the familiar roar of the Batmobile engine. And just as the car stops, Jason can feel the tension bleeding from it. Bad night, then.

“What do you want from me?” Dick asks as he steps out, soaking wet with a mixture of water and something that glows pale blue in the artificial light of the cave. “That I apologize for saving those girls? I won’t.”

“It was reckless; you could have drowned, and them with you,” Bruce replies in the same tone.

“But I didn’t! You will have to understand one day that I’m not eight anymore, and-”

“Here, Master Dick,” Alfred interrupts, giving him a towel. “It is quite cold in the cave.” He doesn’t say that it’s quite cold outside of it, too, but everyone is thinking it. “And Master Bruce, why don’t you go change while I take care of warming him up.”

His eyes are like daggers, and Bruce doesn’t talk back, even though Jason feels that he wants to. He just walks toward the changing rooms. When he passes next to Jason, he looks at him for a second before saying, “Jason. You should be in bed.”

He sounds tired, but Jason still has one more thing to do before going to bed. He runs quickly to where Dick and Alfred are and asks, “Are you really ok? Is there something I can do?”

“Nothing beside getting yourself to bed,” Alfred replies. “I’ll just make sure Master Dick here is not hypothermic or poisoned.”

Dick gives him a smile that Robin gives to citizens. It’s bright, reassuring, and fake. “I’m ok, Little Wing. See you tomorrow morning.”

So, with nothing better to do, Jason goes to his room, showers, changes, and goes to bed. Despite thinking that worry will keep him awake, he’s out cold before he can think more about the night.

-

He doesn’t complain the next morning when Alfred wakes him up. He wants to, but he doesn’t. He promised, after all.

Instead, he gets himself dressed and goes down to get breakfast. Dick is already at the table when he comes in. “Good morning,” he says as Jason sits down, and his voice cracks a little on the words.

“What happened to your voice?” Jason asks as he takes some tea and a piece of toast, thanking Alfred.

“I slept with my hair wet yesterday. It’s nothing. It will pass.”

Jason hums. The manor is warmer than some of the places he lived in, but it’s still old and there is only so much isulation work one can do on a stone structure. It can get cold on February nights.

Alfred looks like he wants to say something more, maybe a comment on how this wouldn’t happen if Dick had shorter hair. It goes down his neck, nearing his shoulders now, and he stubbornly refuses to cut it. This has been one more cause of disagreement in the manor.

But he refrains from saying anything, and just drives them to the school without a word.

-

Jason goes through his morning classes as usual, trying not to fall asleep during the boring parts of the lessons. It’s only when he’s at his locker to get his lunch that everything goes wrong.

“Hey, street rat!”

He turns to see Augustus Wright. He sighs. Turns out there’s only so much anti-bullying presentations can do, and so much here means nothing. The boy is in his grade, a bit tall for his age, and had chosen him as his victim since the beginning of the school year. 

“What do you want?” he asks sharply. He doesn’t call him “September” like he did last time, because he’d rather not get punched in the face again.

“Do you know what my father says about you?”

Jason doesn’t look at him, and focuses on getting his lunch out of the locker instead. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. Your father is an idiot who has an addiction to bad financial investments.” Or at least that’s what Bruce says. But he has the feeling the comment will not help him in his quest of not getting punched in the face.

As expected, Augustus’ hand flies toward him. But he doesn’t hit Jason, like he had expected him to. Instead, he hits the lunch box, and to Jason’s dismay, it flies out of his hands and falls down on the floor, the content of Alfred’s carefully prepared food spilling everywhere.

This is spoiled food. The one thing Jason can’t stand.

He clenches his fist. Bruce might be angry at him later, but that won’t stop him. That kid is going to regret it.

“What’s going on here?”

Jason turns toward the sounds, only to see Dick leaning nonchalantly on the lockers. His voice is deeper and lower than usual, so much that Jason barely recognizes it. It makes him look even more impressive, cold and collected.

Augustus seems a bit scared, which makes Jason smile. He might be taller than Jason, but Dick is taller and stronger than both of them. “You’re not supposed to be outside the high school building,” the bully says.

“Yeah?” Dick asks. “And what do you want to do? Call someone? And then you can explain why my-” his voice cracks a little - “little brother’s lunch is on the floor?”

Augustus looks like he wants to sink into the floor. “He’s not your real brother anyway. My father will hear about this!”

Dick tilts his head. “So he can talk about it with Bruce? I would like to see that.” He takes Jason’s arm. “We’re leaving,” he says, and they walk a little before conveniently running into the school janitor, who is talking with the superintendent. Did Dick plan that? “Excuse me, sirs?” he says, “Augustus seems to have made a mess in the corridor, would it be possible to help him find the materials required to clean it up?”

He gives them his best smile, the one that gets people doing whatever he wants, and with that, they’re gone. Because he has that kind of power, the superintendent doesn’t even question why he was in the middle school building.

“I had it handled,” Jason says when they’re out of hearing range, in a small corridor that runs between the two buildings.

“What, you were gonna beat up that kid?”

Jason doesn’t answer that.

“Jay, you know why Bruce trains us. It’s not for-” he coughs in his hand when his voice cracks again, and starts over. “It’s not for this.”

“He tossed my lunch to the ground,” Jason objects.

“I know,” Dick says as they sit down. “Do you want mine?”

“What about you?”

“I’m not that hungry,” Dick replies, handing him his lunch box. Jason opens it and splits the food in two, but true to his word, Dick barely eats his share.

“What, is the math stuff stressing you out that much?”

Dick shrugs. “Maybe,” he says. Jason doesn’t understand why it would be. Dick had always been excellent at math; he and Barbara have helped him more than once and Jason knows for a fact that Dick can do college level problems without struggling. He’s always at the top of his classes, if not the top of the school. The only thing he can maybe be worried about is being the second best and not the best, which seems like overkill.

Unless he’s aiming for a scholarship, like the one Barbara has. But that makes no sense. While the Gordons aren’t exactly poor, having her studies fully funded because she was at the top of the school in several subjects still makes things way easier for them. But he doesn’t get why Dick would need it: Bruce would gladly pay for whatever college Dick wants to go to.     

“Or maybe you’re actually getting sick,” Jason says. “What even happened last night?”

 Dick sighs and looks around to make sure no one can hear them; his voice barely audible, he says “Riddler had two girls in glass containers under a pool of some sort. There was something in the water, a chemical we think he got from Freeze - we still don’t know how. Anyway, a powder was slowly falling into a bowl that would pour it into the water once full. Then the two products would react, and the water would freeze, breaking the glass container with the increased pressure and killing or at least badly injuring the girls. B wouldn’t have solved the riddle in time. There was only a small opening on the pool, just for the powder to go in, Batman couldn’t fit; but I could. And so could the girls once I freed them.”

Jason doesn’t miss a word. “That is so cool,” he says.

“Well, B didn’t seem to think so. But yeah, I stand by my choices.” He coughs into his fist again. “Even if if I do end up being sick, B will never let me hear the end of it.”

Jason smiles a little at that. There is something nagging in the back of his mind - how easily a cold could turn into something worse when he was on the streets - but he doesn’t say it. Dick is talking about this so nonchalantly, he guesses this is how things happen in Wayne Manor: you get sick, you rest for a few days, and that’s it.

Dick looks at his phone and says, “Well, time for me to go, I guess. I need to do some last minute studying.”

Jason sighs. “What do you still have to learn? And what about your food?”

“Keep it,” Dick says. And with that, he’s gone.

-

Jason is in the middle of his biology class when he opens his phone under the desk to see two missed calls from Bruce.

“What’s going on?” he texts back. “I can’t answer a call, I’m in class.”

He immediately sees Bruce typing back, “Have you seen Dick?”

“Just about one hour ago, at lunch. Why?”

“Find him and get him back to the manor. Alfred is on his way to pick you up.”

No more information than that. But, given what Bruce and Dick do, this might be a life or death situation. Jason raises his hand.

“Excuse me,” he says. “I don’t feel well, could I go to the infirmary?”

The teacher gives him a suspicious look before saying. “Of course. Joshua, go walk him.”

When he leaves, he hears Augustus laugh a little, but that is the last thing on his mind. Joshua is a small kid with round glasses. He’s friendly to Jason because Jason took his place as Augustus’ favorite target. He’s been less friendly to him since Jason’s grades have started to threaten to take his place as best student in the class. But right now, he’s content with just walking with him in silence to the infirmary. 

For a second, Jason thinks he could run. Joshua has asthma, he would never catch up to him. But then, how would he explain that? People would be looking for him, and that would be a mess. No, he has to be more subtle. He waits until they reach the infirmary and Joshua goes back to class. Then, he politely asks the nurse if he could rest a bit in one of the beds. Again, he gets a suspicious look for his trouble, but he lets him lay on a bed.

He waits a little, just long enough so he can see the nurse on his phone, not paying attention to him, before getting up and silently making his way out of the infirmary. Step one of his plan is a success.

Jason walks into the high school building, fast and silent. He moves into another corridor whenever he hears someone coming his way. He knows which room Dick is supposed to be taking his math test in as of now. If he’s not here after all he said about this, Jason is going to kick his ass.

But, thankfully, Dick is in the room when Jason looks through the window. He’s focused on the sheet in front of him. When he sees him raise his head, Jason makes huge signs through the window. He distinctly sees Dick mouth, “What the fuck?” before the older teen gets up, says something to the teacher, and leaves the room.

“This had better be important,” he says as soon as he sees Jason. If anything, his voice is worse than it was in the morning. 

“I guess it is, or else Bruce wouldn’t have asked me to come get you. Alfred is waiting for us outside. Come on, let’s go.”

He takes Dick’s wrist to lead him out of the school, and is immediately taken aback by the fact that there seems to be is no heat radiating off his skin.

“You’re cold!” he exclaims.

“What can I say? It’s cold out. We’re not here to talk about my shitty circulation,” Dick replies, twisting his wrist out of Jason’s hand as he walks next to him.

“Alfred,” Dick says as soon as they see the butler outside. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know anymore than you do,” Alfred replies. “I got a call from Master Bruce asking me to come and pick you up while he was getting back to the manor by his own means. Are you quite alright, Master Dick? You look-”

“I’m fine, Alfred,” Dick says as he sits in the back seat. Jason takes it as his clue to sit in the front, next to Alfred.

The short drive from the school to the manor is silent. When he looks in the rear-view mirror, Jason can see Dick has his arms around himself, and his eyes closed. He must be really upset at the interruption of his test. Not that Jason can blame him, but he’s sure Bruce has a good reason to call them back.

“What is this about?” Dick asks as soon as they walk in the manor. From where he’s standing behind him, Jason can see his shoulders shaking with rage.

“The two girls you saved yesterday were hospitalized this morning. We think the compounds all three of you have been in contact with is the cause.”

Whatever Jason had been expecting, that wasn’t it. Apparently, the same goes for Dick because he just croaks, “What?”

“Apparently, it can be absorbed into the skin, slowly decreasing the body’s temperature. Have you felt any symptoms that make you think of that?”

Jason holds a breath. Dick’s wrist had been cold to the touch, earlier. And he’s not shaking with rage, Jason realizes. He’s shivering.   

“I… I guess I’ve been cold, but nothing-” his voice breaks toward the end of the sentence and he coughs loudly.

“Dick,” Bruce asks slowly. “Did you swallow some of that water?”

Dick nods, his eyes toward the floor. “Just after saving the second girl, there wasn’t time to get both of us out before my air ran out. But I didn’t drown. I spat that water out almost immediately.”

There is a second of silence, where Jason thinks maybe Bruce is going to yell, before Dick asks in a very small voice, “These girls… they are in the hospital because of me, no need to sugarcoat it. Are they going to be okay?”

“They will,” Batman, not Bruce, says as he takes Dick’s arm. “And so will you.” 

Jason follows them anxiously to the living room, where Alfred is already waiting for them. Jason hadn’t even realized he left. “I saw your instructions regarding the care currently given to the two young ladies. There is nothing being done for them at Gotham General that we can’t do here,” he says to Bruce.

Sure enough, the couch has several blankets and heat packs, and Jason can hear tea being made in the kitchen. There is also an IV pole.

“Isn’t that overkill?” Dick asks. “I told you, I feel cold, but nothing too bad, I can-”

“The girls are physically smaller than you, but you were exposed for longer, not to mention you had some of the product in your throat,” says Bruce, not leaving room for protest.

“We just don’t want severe hypothermia to set in,” Alfred explains gently. “It’s better to start administering warm fluids now than to take any risks.”  

Dick lets out a long-suffering sigh as he falls onto the couch, pushing his sleeve up and presenting his arm, a silent agreement to the IV. Alfred gets to work; without any other word, Bruce leaves the room.

Once they’re both gone, Jason slowly moves next to Dick on the couch. The older teen is still shivering, but he’s stubbornly on top of the covers.

“I’m sorry about the math test. I know it was important to you,” Jason says tentatively.

Dick doesn’t reply, just gives him a look. “If it helps,” Jason continues, “you’ve been having great grades all year and you will continue to do so. I’m sure this won’t stop you from getting the scholarship if that’s what you’re after.”

Dick blinks. “Thanks, Little Wing,” he says slowly. “It was stupid anyway.”

He doesn’t elaborate more than that.

After a while, Jason asks, “Do you want to watch TV or something?”

“You don’t have to stay,” is the answer he gets for his troubles.

“Yeah, but I want to. And we’re watching something,” Jason decides, taking the remote and turning on a crime show. When he turns back to Dick a few episodes in, he finds him completely rolled in the blankets and still shivering, cold apparently having won over stubbornness.

“I’m okay,” Dick tells him, his voice not much more than an airy murmur. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Jason quickly looks away, unaware he was looking at him in a certain way.

“I don’t-” Dick coughs. “I don’t regret it. We don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t saved them,” he says.

Jason doesn’t say anything to that. “I hope they will be okay,” Dick adds.

Jason nods. “Yeah.” He doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like Dick who is cool and who saves him from bullies and who is Robin being reduced to a shivering mess, curled up under the covers despite the fact that the heat packs are enough to make Jason hot from the other side of the couch.

There is a knock on the door – a useless measure, the door is always open – and Bruce comes in, something in his hands.

“Alfred made soup,” he says, carefully. “If you want some.”

Dick doesn’t move from where he’s buried under the covers, doesn’t look at Bruce. “I’m not really hungry,” he says through chattering teeth. And when Bruce doesn’t seem satisfied with that, he adds, “I ate well for lunch.”

“No, you didn’t,” Jason interrupts.

If looks could kill, the one that Dick shoots him would have sent him straight to the grave.

Bruce puts the bowl on the coffee table and squats down. “I know you’re not hungry. But your body is fighting an unknown, and you have to get all the strength and warmth you can have. Can you at least try?”

Dick still doesn’t look at him. “I don’t think I can eat,” he says.

Bruce tilts his head. “Nausea?”

Dick shakes his head. “No, I…” he gets one of his hands from below the blanket. His shaking fingers are pale and barely twitch. “I don’t think I can eat,” he repeats before pulling his hand back under the covers.

Bruce’s expression breaks in a way Jason hadn’t seen before. It’s not pity, or even worry, though there is some worry in there. It’s just utter sadness. “Chum-” he starts.

“I can help,” Jason interrupts again. “I can help you. I won’t make it awkward. I promise.”

He did it several times with his mother, when she couldn’t lift her hands or was shaking too much to hold a spoon. “I can help,” he repeats. He’s been feeling so useless since this whole thing started. He can do this.

“Ok,” Bruce says slowly. “Ok, Jaylad, I trust you.” And with that, he’s gone. He’s not good with seeing someone in pain or weakened. Jason had noticed how Bruce wouldn’t look at him when he removed his shirt for medical exams, in the weeks after he’d been brought to the manor.

Jason sits on the table and takes the soup in his hands. “Okay,” he says. “How do you want to do it?”

Dick closes his eyes slowly. “You don’t have to do this,” he says.

“I kinda do. Since you can’t hold the spoon.” When he sees Dick’s face, he adds, “I’m not judging you, or seeing you any differently because of this. I just want this dinner to happen the best way possible for both of us.”

Dick opens his eyes. “You’re right. We can do this like you want.”

Jason nods. He slowly puts a bit of soup in the spoon and moves it toward Dick’s face, making sure the oldest sees all his movements. When he reaches his mouth, he makes sure to be as gentle as possible. Dick, to his relief, doesn’t say anything and just lets him feed him. It’s only when the soup is about half finished that he mutters, “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Thank you, then.”

“Yeah, that you can say.”

“Thank you, Jason. You’re a good kid.”

You’re a good kid. How many times had he heard this from his mother? Thank you, Jason, you’re a good kid. I don’t deserve you, Jason. I’m sorry, Jason.

He would never hear it again. He would never feed her like this and, as terrible as it was, he finds himself wishing he could. He wants to forget about that one morning where he woke up to find her cold, colder than Dick currently is, and pretends he’s still taking care of her.

An icy cold finger gently goes to wipe his face, removing a tear he didn’t know was there.

“What’s going on, Little Wing?”

Jason wipes his eyes quickly. He’s the one who should be taking care of Dick, not the other way around. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Dick tilts his head, keeping his mouth stubbornly shut when Jason tries to feed him more soup. “That doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I miss my mom, that’s all,” he says honestly.

Dick hums in understanding. “I miss mine too, a lot. I miss both my parents. Especially in times like this.” He looks everywhere but at Jason when he says, “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if they were still there. If I was still at the circus with them.”

Jason hums. “Being with Bruce is probably better for me,” he says, because objectively, it is. Unlike Dick, and unlike most people he sees at school, Jason never had a proper childhood. He doesn’t even remember a time when he didn’t feel like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.    

“Probably,” Dick says. “I’m sorry, Jason.”

“I told you; you have nothing to apologize for.”

“We should have found you sooner.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not the only Crime Alley kid in need of saving, and no matter how much Batman and Robin try, they can’t save everyone.

“It’s okay,” Jason says. “You found me.”

Dick closes his eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “Bruce did.”

They don’t talk much more after that. Alfred brings dinner for Jason, smiling in approval when he retrieves the empty soup bowl. They watch some more TV, only interrupted by the regular sound of Dick coughing, and Jason can feel himself falling asleep when Bruce enters the room again.

“I have a lead on where the Riddler could have gotten the compound,” he says without so much of a hello. “I’m going there tonight, to find more about it, and hopefully a cure. We’re going to save the girls, and we’re going to save you.”

Dick makes a sound of approval from where he’s even more buried under the covers. It’s clear that he’s not in any state to be Robin tonight.

“I can help,” Jason says, standing quickly. “I can help you. I’ve been training, I could be Robin!”

“No,” Bruce says, and that’s final. “I am not endangering you. Stay here with Dick.”

“I’m okay,” Dick says, still not moving, and definitely not okay. “He’s right, you shouldn’t be alone. Jason is capable, and-”

“No,” Bruce repeats. Before Jason or Dick can add anything else, he’s gone.

“Alfred is on the comms,” Jason says, both for Dick and for himself. “He will call me if I’m needed.” To be honest, he’s not really ready to leave Dick alone while Bruce, Alfred and probably Barbara are racing to find a cure. He still feels like everything can go south so fast. And to think just a few hours before they were joking over lunch.  

“He’s going to find something,” Jason adds. “And you will be better in no time.”

Dick doesn’t say anything.

And so, they wait. Jason puts the TV back on, but Dick isn’t really watching anymore, completely curled up on himself around the heat packs. Jason feels himself getting lulled to sleep, and Alfred is too busy to tell him to go to his actual bed. So, he lets himself drift on the couch.

-

Jason wakes up to a sound he doesn’t recognize and what feels like a block of ice hitting his shoulder. He blinks and turns toward Dick.

He immediately feels blood rushing to his body, pumping into his ears. Dick’s face is ashy gray, his lips turning blue. But it’s the sound that comes from him that freezes Jason in fear. He’d only heard one person breathe like this; an older homeless man who had developed pneumonia. Things didn’t end well for him.

Dick’s lips move to form the word help but no sound comes out of his mouth. He coughs, and something falls down his chin. It’s not blood, but it’s not spit either.

It’s ice, Jason realizes with horror. Thankfully, it melts quickly, but Dick is coughing up ice.

That, more than anything else, gets Jason to move. He jumps on his feet and runs toward the cave. He doesn’t have any breath left to explain the situation to Alfred, but the old man seems to understand, hurrying upstairs with him. Dick is still in the same state when they reach the living room, and Jason blindly follows the orders Alfred gives him, knowing he probably won’t remember much of it later. Together, they get a portable oxygen machine to push warm air into Dick’s lungs, hoping it will ease his breathing.

Dick is looking at them with wide eyes the entire time, but, thankfully, he seems to relax a few minutes after they put on the mask.

“Take care of him, Master Jason,” Alfred says. “Master Bruce should be back shortly.”

So, Jason stays there and watches Dick like a hawk. But eventually, as Dick is resting, his breathing once again regular, he finds himself pulled once more into unconsciousness.

-

“B?”

Jason wakes up with a start. Dick is awake, his eyes big as he calls.

“B?”

Jason quickly moves next to him. “He’s not here. He’s looking for a cure.”

Dick blinks, like he doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Maybe he doesn’t, Jason thinks. He’s suffering from severe hypothermia and breathing difficulties. Jason wouldn’t be surprised if he was confused or delirious.

“He’s not here?” he asks, a little sad.

“No, but not because he doesn’t want to be.” To be fair, Jason isn’t sure if Bruce would want to be here, but he decides to humor Dick. “He’s trying to save you. He can’t lose you.”

There is something strange that passes into Dick’s eyes, something that reminds Jason of that day one month ago when they talked about the adoption, something that is not confused at all, and he says, “He can. He will.”

Jason feels very cold, like he’s the one who’s been in contact with the dangerous chemical. “No,” he says. “He will be back, he’s going to save you, and-”

“In a month,” Dick continues. “I will turn eighteen. And I will be no one to Bruce.”

Jason blinks. This wasn’t about giving up, then. “What are you talking about?” he asks. What does turning eighteen have to do with all of that?

“Foster care ends at eighteen.”

And suddenly, everything makes sense. Dick’s behavior around the adoption papers. Working at the fast-food place. The scholarship.

“You’re not adopted.” It’s not a question. And Dick just thinks Bruce is going to give him up after he turns eighteen? “Why?”

Dick doesn’t look at him. “I don’t know,” he says, and Jason doesn’t push it.

“But even then,” Jason argues. “You’re much more to him than his foster kid.” Has Dick not seen the way Bruce looks at him? Has he not heard the way he talks about him to Jason? Has he not seen him breaking in front of his suffering, earlier? “You’re Batman and Robin,” Jason says, a desperate attempt to make sense of what he wants to say.

Dick let out a small laugh, a sad, quiet sound. “Not for much longer. He will find another, better Robin.”

“What?” Jason’s voice breaks a little. That doesn’t make any sense. “No, that’s not-”

“You said it yourself. You can be Robin.”

Jason’s hands instinctively go to cover his mouth, letting out a choked sound. He said it, but he didn’t think it would have such an impact on Dick. He didn’t mean it in a way that meant he could be a better Robin, just that he’d been training to help them in the fight.

“No, no. No, I don’t-”

“I know,” Dick says. “You’re a good kid,” and there are these words again, Jason is a good kid. He’s a good kid, but he’d been unable to save his mom. He’s a good kid, but he’s been unable to not hurt Dick with his careless words. “I couldn’t hate you if I tried. And that’s the thing: it would have been so much easier if I could just hate you and think everything is your fault. But you really don’t like to make things easy, do you?”

He stops a bit, to take his breath, and Jason doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know how to make things better. He doesn’t know how to make Dick see how much Bruce loves him, and he just recalls how many times Bruce had told him how proud he was of Dick, yet all he ever heard between Dick and Bruce is technical talk or arguments.

“It’s okay, Little Wing.” And Jason wants to scream, because nothing is okay. “Don’t cry.” Jason wants to reply that he’s not crying, but he’s not sure about that. “I understand. You will be a good Robin. And you will be a good son. You deserve it.”

Jason wants to yell, he wants to say that there is no such thing as deserving to be a son or deserving to be a parent, it’s either something that you are or aren’t, and that a lot of people, people like Augustus Wright, probably think his mother didn’t deserve to be a parent and maybe she doesn’t but she was there. She was there. But what comes out of his mouth is, “I don’t have to be Robin. I don’t want to be Robin if I have to become Robin like this. I can be something else! I can be Titmouse.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. “Titmouse?”

“I… whatever!” Jason angrily wipes his eyes and turns out he is crying. “I can be another spring bird! I can bring warmth to Gotham’s winter.”

Dick smiles, and it doesn’t fully reach his eyes, but it’s something. “I would like some of that warmth, if that’s not asking for too much,” he says. “I’m so cold.” One of his hands sluggishly goes on Jason’s face, removing a tear. Despite himself, Jason shivers at the contact, but he doesn’t move away.

“I can-” he says. “I will-”

“I know,” Dick replies to what hadn’t been spoken. “You’re a good kid,” he repeats, and Jason lets out a sob. “Even if it was a lie, I’ve been happy to call you my brother.”

The hand that had been on Jason’s face falls back on the couch, and Dick’s eyes slowly flutter shut. Jason’s heart misses a bit. “No.” He moves so he’s practically on top of Dick. “No, no no no. Don’t fall asleep.” He can’t handle this. Not again. And even if Dick was right and Bruce was ready to lose him, Jason really, really isn’t. “Don’t leave me alone. Please don’t leave me alone.” He’s whining, he knows he’s whining, but he can’t help it. He’s never been a child, but the last nine months had been the closest thing he had to a childhood. So now, he feels like a child, and a child is whining. “Don’t leave me alone.” Is he really that powerless? Is there really so little he can do to keep what he loves?

A hand moves him, takes him away from Dick, and he wants to fight, but his limbs feel like jelly, and he watches in a dazed state as Bruce introduces something into Dick’s IV line.

And then, as Bruce moves his hands away from the IV to discard the syringe, everything that just happened washes over him. How Dick thought Bruce was ready to leave him. How these kinds of feelings aren’t born overnight. How he never heard Bruce tell Dick anything nice, and that probably means he hadn’t said any at all during the last nine months, probably more. It rushes over him, and he needs to do something about it.

And, like that night in Crime Alley nine months ago, his first reflex is to lash out.

“It’s your fault!” he screams, punching Bruce. His fists aren’t hurting him, he doesn’t even put any strength on them. “It’s your fault!” he repeats, and he melts into Bruce’s arms when Bruce holds him. “I know,” he says, and Jason blinks because how could he possibly know? “I just didn’t know what else to do. I won’t force you to be Robin if you don’t want to.”

And he just moves away from the couch, leaving Jason on the floor to ask himself what on earth was he talking about?

“Master Jason,” Jason blinks and Alfred is here. He apparently did some arrangements around Dick, and Jason lost some time. “I think it’s time for you to rest in a real bed.”

Jason blinks again. He wants to protest, but he’s bone tired. “I’m not leaving Dick,” he says.

“Very well,” Alfred says, and he makes a sign to Bruce to carry Dick to his room.

As they make their way upstairs, Jason almost regrets his lashing out. Because Bruce is so careful, so loving, so fatherly with Dick that there is no doubt about his feelings. But then, why the adoption thing? Why did he offer Jason, but not Dick?

That’s a question for tomorrow morning, he thinks as he falls into the bed. For now, Dick is safe, saved by Batman, and he can fall asleep knowing he will still have time to untangle everything that just happened later.

-

Jason wakes up next to a furnace. He checks the heat packs, only to find them long cold. The heat produced in the bed isn’t anything artificial. He turns toward Dick, who is still asleep, and the heat the older boy radiates is a nice change from everything that happened the night before. Though, Jason thinks as he studies Dick’s flushed face and his labored breathing, maybe that’s even too much heat.  

Jason quickly gets out of the bed, and dashes toward the corridor. He stumbles upon Bruce, who is walking quickly toward the room.

“I just got news from the hospital-” Bruce starts.

“Let me guess, the girls had an immune response to the cure?” Jason finishes for him and Bruce nods.

With Alfred, all three of them move into Dick’s room, who blinks and groans when he sees them, apparently waking up. Bloodshot blue eyes land on Jason, and he feels like he’s under a microscope.

“You’re okay?” is the first thing he asks Jason, and Jason nods. He wonders if Dick remembers the last night, or if he’s just asking this out of habit. He takes the safer route. “Yes. You’re not contagious, it’s an effect from the cure.”

Dick blinks again, and Alfred hands him a glass of water with a pill that he looks at for a few seconds before asking, “The cure?” And then, as if everything comes back to him, he turns toward Bruce and asks, “Are the girls okay?”

Bruce sighs. “More or less like you, except for the fact that they didn’t go into respiratory distress.” Dick looks away in shame at that. “There is no way to tell for sure, since this is very experimental, but the doctors expect the fever to last a few days, and then break on its own.”  

Dick finally takes the pill and some of the water Alfred gave him before falling back into the bed. “Okay,” he says. “Good.”

Bruce looks like he wants to add something more, but Alfred clears his throat. “You should probably sleep it off then, Master Dick,” he says, but it’s clear he’s talking more to Bruce than to Dick.

Bruce seems to accept that now is not the time to talk and puts one of his hands on Jason’s shoulder. “Come on, Jaylad. Let’s give him space.”

Just before leaving, Jason takes a step toward Dick’s bed and kneels down. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he says, both because it’s true and because no one else said it.

Then, he follows Bruce and Alfred to the living room. Alfred had cleaned up all traces of the night Jason and Dick spent on the couch and even prepared dinner. Jason wonders how he does all that. Alfred, he decides, is probably not human. That is the best explanation.

“B,” Jason starts once Alfred is out of hearing range, probably going up to try to get some food into Dick. “What I said yesterday-”

“No, you were right. I brought you into this life, but that doesn’t mean you have to be part of it. When I first took Dick in, he was angry and reckless. He would go out every night on his own. At that time, we created Robin. It was the best thing both him and I could find. But,” Bruce’s fingers tighten on his fork as he eats, “that was naïve and reckless on my end to think I could keep him safe out there. What you saw yesterday… It wasn’t the first time something like this happened. Dick knows it, and he made his choices. Still, Robin isn’t suiting him anymore, and he doesn’t want to keep working in the way we currently do. This is why, when you showed interest in vigilantism, I offered you to be Robin. But, if with after what you saw yesterday you don’t want to do this anymore, I can understand. You can keep training for self-defense, and you will always have a home in this house.”

Jason has to keep himself from murmuring a “Whoa.” This is the first time he heard Bruce talk that much since the speech he had when he arrived, he thinks. But there are several things that bothers him with what had just been said.

“No, I… I want to help. I know it’s dangerous, and I know danger. But these girls, they wouldn’t have been saved without Dick, would they?”

Bruce stays silent for a moment, not looking at Jason. “I don’t know,” he finally says.

“Okay.” Jason doesn’t push. “Okay.”

“But,” Bruce continues, “there have been situations where he undeniably saved people, so I guess your point still stands. Though, if you don’t want to-”

“You said Robin didn’t suit Dick anymore,” Jason cuts him, not wanting to go back on his involvement, fearful Bruce would change his mind about letting him go with them. “Did he tell you that?” Because this doesn’t make sense at all, given the conversation he had with Dick last night.  

“No,” Bruce says, “He didn’t need to. His behavior has made it clear he needs a change, even if he might not see it yet.”

Jason blinks. Well, that was… a very Bruce thing to think. He doesn’t ask about the adoption thing. Part of him wants to ask, wants to know what made the difference between him and Dick, but part of him is afraid Bruce will backtrack if he asks too many questions, like he almost did for vigilantism.

Neither Bruce nor Alfred had said anything about school, so Jason assumes he’s allowed to skip today. He’s glad. He doesn’t hate school, but he doesn’t think he can handle it today, especially if Augustus or his friends start to pick on him. Especially without Dick. When he goes to see the older teen, he finds that Alfred had closed the door. The butler tells him to let Dick rest for now.

So, here Jason is. Not really knowing what to do and still full of adrenaline. He offers Alfred some help with the housework but, as usual, the old man firmly pushes him off after a few tasks. Bruce takes his computer and starts working on something in the living room, so he takes it as his clue to get a book and read.  

They stay like this for a while, all three of them in silence. Jason regularly raises his head toward either Bruce or Alfred, and sometimes toward the stairs to check if he hears anything from Dick. But he’s totally absorbed into his reading when he hears, “What time is it?”

Jason raises his head quickly, not having heard Dick going down the stairs. It looks like the Robin stealth isn’t hindered by a fever.

Bruce, as expected, isn’t phased by the sudden apparition. “We’re just before midday,” he says, without even looking up from the thing he’s working on.

“I need to go to class,” Dick says and that has Bruce look up in an exasperated way. Jason is also kinda exasperated; he was hoping Dick wouldn’t remind Bruce and Alfred about school.

 “I think not,” Alfred says, turning back sharply from whatever he’s doing. “You are still feverish, and, I would think, exhausted from the ordeal your body went through just last night. Go sit on that couch with Master Jason while I go fetch some lunch for the lot of you.”

Dick looks like he wants to argue, but he knows Alfred is right, and there is no way to argue with him anyway. So, instead, he just sighs, thanks him, and goes sit next to Jason.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks.

Dick looks steadily in front of him. “Yeah,” he says.

“You’re an excellent student, missing a day or two won’t hurt your grades.”

“Yeah.”

“And it’s not as if you could follow class properly with a fever anyway.”

Dick turns toward him. “You’re probably right,” he says. And then he smiles. “Looks like you gave me a bit too much warmth, right, spring bird?”

Jason immediately feels his cheeks heating up. “So, you remember what happened last night?”

Dick turns back to look at the wall. “Yes. Look, I was… I wasn’t in my normal state. What I said-”

“No, you were right. I mean, I’m glad you said it. I still want to help, but it doesn’t have to be by being Robin. I can be something else.”  

Dick turns back to him with a smirk. “Titmouse?” he asks and his voice is still not back to normal but the gentle teasing heals something inside Jason’s heart he didn’t know needed healing.

“Shut up,” he says.

They stay in silence for a while before Jason dares ask, “Do you want to be adopted.”

Dick let out a long breath that makes Jason wish he hadn’t asked before saying “I don’t know.”

Jason doesn’t push it. He doesn’t know how to respond to that, anyways. After a time, Dick talks again. “But what I said is true. For however long it lasts, I’m proud to call you my brother.” His knuckles move to hit Jason’s head gently. “And if it’s still your choice, I would be happy to be your partner in the streets of Gotham.” 

[nothingmattersbutgenloss]

Gl!ranboo is not a good person

Gl!ranboo os not a good person. Hear me out, I also wouldn’t classify them as a bad person either? It’s been something that’s been on my mind the last few days and ranboo confirmed some of my thoughts in a stream yesterday. They talk about the original idea to end Gen 1 with the audience not liking gl!ranboo because they made selfish and cruel decisions. I don’t think that would have been enough to make the audience kill them but I could be mistaken, I liked the alternative ending that we got to see.

Continuing in the thoughts I have been having about gl!ranboo not being a good person. Showfall media frames them as the “hero”. The trailers, when Hetch discusses them, gl!ranboo is called the hero of the episodes. Ranboo actively says they just want to go and escape, rather than take down this horrible company. And although still under control of the company, there is still some choice there I’m sure when gl!ranboo decides to rip open patient Charlie and pushes Sneeg and Austin out of the way so he can fit through the hole in the wall. Both these actions are done out of survival instinct, both lead to the death of others, so do we judge that as bad or good? Was it even gl!ranboo if they were supposedly forced to do those thing? Depends on your own moral code. Would you do the same to survive? Or would you refuse to be involved in something that would kill someone.

The thing that was interesting to me is that when gl!ranboo gains more control in ep 3, they momentarily forgets the idea of escape when they find out that some of the other cast members are alive and need saving. This makes them seem more selfless and little more like the hero we are told we are watching. This doesn’t last long before gl!ranboo decides to just escape, wanting to just let the police deal with it.

We are so used to seeing the “chosen one” be hesitant at first but ultimately make the decision to save everyone and any cost, gl!ranboo does not give us that typical chosen one we expect. They kill for their own survival, attempt to make bargains with the bad guys to survive: gl!ranboo begged to be let go and in return they wouldn’t even tell anyone what was going one- leaving many to suffer at the hands of showfall media.

It’s just so interesting to me that regardless of state of gl!Ranboo’s control over themselves, they dance the line between moral and immoral, good or bad. But at the end of the day it all comes down to what you believe is okay in the name of survival

I still love gl!ranboo very much. They are very sad and I just want to give them a hug and a snack without pickles or slime, but they are not your typical perfect chosen one hero. They are a realistic version of a person - at least of one in their circumstances -trying to survive. They are not a good person.

I think it speaks more of the need for things to be black and white in our society, when most of it is just grey and depends on your own moral values

Regardless of whatever I say being accurate or not, props to Ranboo and crew for creating this! It’s true my spectacular and I haven’t had this much fun digging up and analyzing and just in general enjoying a fandom.

[woodchipp]

"her actions have shown [how much she cares]" not being backed up by any of her actions throughout the game aside, this summary gets even funnier if you take a closer look at what kicks off the plot of One Day Left - Sunny, Kel and Hero confronting Aubrey at her house.

I have Things to say about that scene, both in terms of how it relates to Aubrey and to the game's writing in general.

Right off the bat, the game uses a milder version of "hell" right before inexplicably making Aubrey use the word itself. Something like

AUBREY: ...! AUBREY: Wh-What are you guys doing here?! AUBREY: GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ROOM!!

would've worked just as fine, in my opinion.

This game had three editors, by the way.

When pressed, the first thing Aubrey says about the incident at the lake is a straight-up lie in an attempt to diminish the severity of her wrongdoing. No, her watery eyes aren't going to convince me she's genuinely sorry.

1) Here it is again. Instead of owning up to her behavior at the very least, she continues trying to make the incident seem less severe than it actually was.

2) You "didn't mean to" push Basil into the lake even though he was obviously standing right at the edge of the pier? And you knew he was incapable of swimming? You're a fuckwad.

Accident or no accident, he was in active danger of dying. You chose to argue with Kel on the pier since that was more of a priority to you than trying to save your close friend.

And then she tries to reduce the severity of what she did for the third time! Sure, she does seem to apologize afterwards

but then immediately falls back on deflecting blame, which makes the apology come off as insincere.

Really, I would've preferred Aubrey being upfront about being a prick. Her incessant attempts to blame everyone and everything but herself for her choices don't make her complex because the game speedruns her redemption and we don't get to see her growth, which is also why said attempts become very grating after a certain point.

Aubrey isn't the only character I take issue with here, though.

1) Hero. My dude. Your own brother accused Aubrey of nearly killing another friend of yours. Aubrey confirmed said accusation. And you still dismiss it as a harmless squabble like the ones they had in their childhood days??

Either he's also stuck in his childhood mentally or he's just - and I'm not going to mince words here - a moron.

2) I love that Hero's reaction implies he still doesn't seem to take Kel seriously. You'd think he'd try to be more mindful of his little brother following that furious outburst, but nope. He still seems to view Kel as a rash little child he has to rein in.

One could argue this is meant to show that the charscters are flawed, and in a better story, I'd actually be inclined to agree. I like the idea of Hero struggling to move on from his role as the group's "dad", and I'd have liked if the story forced him to understand he can't keep playing their dad with a situation much more complicated than a "typical Kel and Aubrey fight". Likewise, Hero's perception of Kel as an impulsive, bratty kid persisting to the present day and causing friction with Kel himself would've made for an interesting conflict.

Of course, this isn't a better story, so after Kel and Aubrey's reactions, Hero's shallow peacemaking is promptly (and conveniently) forgotten when he notices the last bunch of missing photos.

Peak writing, everyone!

This game took six years and $200,000, by the way. No, I won't stop mentioning that.

My sister in Christ you are literally wearing her fucking headband. You were also given some of her other clothes, it seems.

If Aubrey's problem was about having nothing to remember Mari by, it's null and void to me because she clearly does have more than just the photos. Not only that, but this also comes off as the game trying to use Aubrey's grief as an excuse for her treatment of Basil, which is disgusting for reasons I shouldn't need to explain.

(oh, and Sunny's just Standing There. he doesn't contribute anything to the conversation at all. he could've been removed from this scene altogether and nothing of value would be lost. the main character of all time, truly)

[delimeful]

carry them home (4)

warnings: magical oaths, mentions of past harm/captivity, mentions of murder, canon-typical remus behavior, lmk if i'm missing any

-

His declaration, predictably, sparked an entirely new argument.

Logan had wasted a few moments trying to call Janus’s bluff, and then, once it became clear that a Deal was absolutely not happening, he had been promptly dragged into the brewing argument.

Patton was vehemently against murder, and the fire sprite seemed to be tentatively backing him up. Logan was clearly weighing the benefits and the risks, his clear irritation with Janus seemingly warring with the fallout of going against Patton’s wishes. Vee appeared to be holding up the pro-murder side of the argument through sheer force of loathing.

Nobody had asked Remus for his opinion, presumably because the answer was extremely obvious. The kid was still leaning obnoxiously on Janus, watching the debate like a tennis match and nodding faux-wisely every once in a while.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to look the other way while your companions are distracted?” Janus asked dryly, tilting his head slightly to see that the hands on him were utterly caked in dirt.

“And miss the opportunity to see how many ghoul fungi I could grow out of your corpse? You ask too much of me,” Remus replied, tilting Janus back slightly so he could peer upside down at his face.

Startlingly, underneath the errant patches of lichen and mold, the changeling’s face bore a remarkable resemblance to the fire sprite.

Rather than comment on it, Janus rolled his eyes. “At least grow edible ones. Waste not, want not, as the conscientious say.”

Remus blinked, and the edges of his smile grew sharper with delight. “Any corpse mushrooms are edible if you're not a coward!”

Janus hummed in agreement. “And if you don’t mind becoming a corpse yourself.”

Those mismatched eyes vanished, and there was a nasally laugh, as though he’d thrown his head back to cackle. “You’re awfully relaxed for a guy we might pull all the guts out of!”

Part of that was the lingering effect of the trance, as well as the theory that if he planned an escape too actively, he might send the soothsayer into another foretelling episode.

(It was strange. Normally, involuntary visions of the future were triggered by impending danger, but Janus hadn’t had any harmful intentions while pondering escape.)

Of course, he wasn’t about to tell them that.

“There’s no point to mindlessly panicking,” Janus said instead. “Besides, as far as captors go, I’ve had much crueler ones.”

“Are you sure? We’re literally trying to decide if I get to mulch your body!” Remus informed him cheerily. His sharp-toothed little grin was practically designed to incite terror; Janus felt a small surge of fondness despite himself.

“Indeed, but a few of you don’t seem to want me dead, so my statement stands.”

“‘A few’ is generous,” Vee muttered, and then ducked away from Patton’s puppy dog eyes.

“He hasn’t done anything wrong!” Patton insisted. Generally speaking, that wasn’t remotely true, but Janus wasn’t about to correct him. “We shouldn’t hurt innocents!”

“Patton, we have to focus on keeping ourselves safe,” Logan tried, a sort of halfheartedness to the words, as though he already knew they wouldn’t sway the other fae.

“What’s an epic voyage without a few struggles?” the fire sprite countered. “This serpentine stranger may have some tricks up his sleeve, but a hero such as myself will valiantly protect you all from any threat he may pose!”

Vee scoffed. “Ro, you can’t even protect us from your twin’s bad singing.”

Ro gasped, placing an affronted hand to his chest, but before they could return to bickering, Logan mantled his wings in an unspoken demand for attention.

“If we aren’t killing him—,” he pointedly ignored the groan from Vee, “—we need an alternative method of ensuring he won’t hurt anyone.”

“Remove his arms!” Remus offered helpfully. Patton winced, and Logan sighed.

“Physical restraints seem to be effective enough for the moment. Our primary concern should be countering whatever method the human used to break free of my trance.”

“Or,” Janus interjected mildly, “we could skip the mind magic entirely, and negotiate instead.”

“Right, because you’re so trustworthy,” Vee snapped. He’d started aggressively pacing at some point during the discussion, his shoulders hunched inward.

The kid made an astute point, as inconvenient as it was.

“I’m not the one who chose to be dragged out here and interrogated,” Janus said, tone only slightly snippy. “However, I would be willing to swear a blood oath, if that is what’s required to ease your minds.”

All of the kids turned to him with wide-eyed surprise, though Vee snapped back into anger within moments.

“You don’t get to put any of us under oath—,” he started, edging in front of the others with bared teeth.

“I would be the sworn party,” Janus interrupted, heroically resisting the urge to sigh at the assumption.

Another beat of silence, though Remus and Ro seemed more bemused than anything.

“You’d rather subject yourself to a blood oath than a Deal?” Logan asked, his expression shifting to something more pensive as he studied Janus. “Have you… been under oath, before?”

Janus resisted a dry laugh. “I have,” he understated.

“But blood oaths hurt!” Patton chimed in, still looking far too worried on behalf of a relative stranger.

He was well aware. “The pain is only debilitating if I actively act against the agreed terms. As long as I am guaranteed my safe release by the end of the oath, I am willing to endure the side effects.”

Vee had gone quiet, watching him intently with those tar pit eyes.

“Alright,” Logan said, and settled into a neat, cross-legged sit in front of Janus. “Let’s negotiate.”

—

The agreement ended up being relatively straightforward, for how long-winded their discussion was.

Janus had agreed not to harm, or plan to cause harm to, any of the kids. He’d agreed to offer his honest knowledge on not only the movement of the Guard, but any relevant matters that could aid their journey. He’d agreed to follow the orders of whoever was currently assigned as his watcher, but only that designated person.

He’d insisted on that wording, having already picked up on the frequent bickering that went on between the kids. Being subject to one highly-opinionated child at a time was manageable. Being subject to magically compelled orders from all five of them was a recipe for disaster.

In exchange, he would not be killed, and he would part ways peacefully with the gaggle of infants after the oath period— a completed moon’s cycle— had passed.

He had spent so much time weaving loopholes into his requirements and playing innocent as Logan caught and unraveled the vast majority of them, that he hadn’t actually realized how heavily skewed against him the deal was until the oath was already being made.

That was what he got for indulging in bad habits, he supposed. A necessary evil, as he doubted the children would have trusted his word if he’d simply stated what he meant outright.

They had good instincts— it was always better to be watching for the trap— but in the end, they were still young. Rooting out Janus’s double-meaning machinations had successfully distracted them from including the conditions Janus wanted to avoid-- one that would force him to tell them anything about his own person, for example.

(Really, his highly suspect background aside, it was none of their business.)

He didn’t bother trying anything during the ritual swearing itself, both because Vee was watching him like a starved hawk, and because he wasn’t a fool that meddled with the processes of blood magic.

The heavy, dull ache of a blood oath settled onto Janus like an old jacket draped over his shoulders. He hadn’t missed it. Still, it was leagues better than making a Deal.

Five gazes watched him with varying levels of curiosity and wariness, as though waiting to see if he would spontaneously combust under the force of the oath.

Janus pushed down the stress that always accompanied arrangements like these, reminding himself that he was in the here and now. As far as captors he’d been magically bound to went, he’d endured far worse for far longer.

It would only be a month. They were children. This would likely be the easiest trip he’d ever made under blood oath.

“My first piece of advice,” he offered with a winsome smirk, “would be to move eastward. Odds are good that your encounter with the shopkeep will linger in her mind enough to mention it to the Guard, and I assume we’ll want to be well ahead of any scouting parties sent off the way I led you out of town.”

Vee crossed his arms, scowling. “We’re not going to find Sanctuary in the east. It’s in the mountains.”

“I’m not giving you information on how to get to Sanctuary, the place that isn’t real. I’m telling you how to not get caught by hunters,” Janus replied, saccharine-sweet.

Vee hissed petulantly.

“Ooh, ooh!” Remus waved his hand around wildly. “We could always go with my plan and immolate the Guard! I always wanted to go out in a blaze of gory glory.”

Patton chuckled nervously. “Immolate? I think I’d prefer we get moving immoearly to avoid the Guard instead!”

Remus booed. Ro also booed, but it seemed to be more about the pun than denial of mauling.  

“Patton is correct. We don’t want to be caught unaware, particularly at nightfall,” Logan said, folding up his map after adding a few careful notations to it. “The human’s advice is sound— for the short-term, Vee. We can worry about Sanctuary once we’re out of immediate danger.”

With a decisive nod, he shifted back to his feet, and everyone dispersed as though on cue, hurrying to grab the supplies and belongings scattered about the clearing.

Having left all his belongings at home pre-abduction, Janus leaned back against a tree, grimacing as the bark pressed into his wrists. He really would have to convince them to retie his hands in front of him, he was going to be entirely useless like this.

Patton would be the easiest to convince, though he doubted that Logan would assign anyone but himself to watch Janus for the first few days—

“Vee! You’ve got the human. Keep an eye on him.”

Or maybe the siren trusted the others more than Janus had originally thought.

...Or cared less about Janus's survival than he'd originally assumed.

Vee returned Janus’s mocking smile from earlier, a silent promise that the changeling was going to enjoy making life harder for him.

So much for an easy journey.

[theycallmebecca]

For your Autumn prompts- a character (I’m thinking Frank or Curtis would be fun!) of your choosing doesn’t “get” the magic of Autumn/Fall- but after participating in a typical Autumn activity (Fall Festival/haunted house/carving pumpkins/apple picking/a scare crow making contest/scary movie marathon) they get it and it’s a cute fluffy ending 🥺🧡

If this drabble had a theme song it would be Taylor Swift's Anti-Hero, specifically the line 'Hi, I'm the problem, it's me' because I literally started writing this drabble the day I got this request back on the 18th and the ending eluded me until today...

Never the less, I have prevailed! And I bring you some Frank Adler grumpiness.

Title: New Traditions

Pairing: Frank Adler x reader

Rating: PG

Warnings: n/a

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

Usage Disclaimer: This work is for fans only. This author does not give permission for it to be shared, spoken of, referred to in any public manner (podcast, tv, online, etc.) that wants to either make a celebrity uncomfortable, mock fan fiction/fandom in any way, or the author themselves. Requests can be made, but it is unlikely the author will change their mind. If no response is given to a request then the answer is a solid no, not interested and the work cannot be shared, spoken of or even referred to, regardless of the manner or context. 

"What do you mean you think fall is overrated?” You stared at your boyfriend in shock.

“The colors are nice, I guess,” Frank Adler replied with a shrug. “But I don’t get the fuss.”

You blinked and shook your head in disbelief. You opened your mouth to remind him that he’d grown up in fucking New England, one of the most picturesque places in the entire fucking world to experience fall and then shut it when you remembered why the two of you were even in New England in October.

Mary’s monthly weekend with her grandmother.

You bit your tongue to keep from saying anything about Frank’s mother and tried to mask your face, but you could see Frank’s lips twitch as he tried to fight smiling himself.

“It’s ok, you can call her a bitch if you want to,” Frank said with a grin. “I’ve said worse. To her face.”

“I will not stoop to her level,” you said, pulling your shoulders back. “I’m just glad I’m part of yours and Mary’s lives now and can help you both experience the parts of life that were kept from you.”

“Like what?” Frank asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Experiencing fall the way it’s fucking meant to be spent!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “Pumpkin patches, hayrides, corn mazes, just everything that makes fall fun!”

Frank gave you a look that said he wasn’t convinced.

“Trust me, by the time I’m done showing you and Mary everything you’ve missed, you’ll be begging me to show you more and, not only that, but making a huge weekend of it every single year,”  you promised.

With Mary busy with her grandmother for the weekend, you and Frank went to a local haunted house and then watched a couple scary movies. While he refused to admit he was enjoying himself, you could tell that he was.

By the time you guys were back in Florida, Mary was on board for experiencing a true fall and you knew that would seal the deal for Frank. If there was anything that made your grumpy boyfriend happy, it was seeing his niece enjoying her childhood, something that both he and her mother had missed out on.

You spent the week planning a weekend full of fall-related fun for the three of you, some of which you shared with Frank and Mary, but other parts you decided to keep as a surprise.

When the weekend finally arrived, the three of you got up early and headed out for the first day of fun. You’d found a farm not too far away that had an actual pumpkin patch as well as hayrides, a corn maze, and a farm store.

Just as you had expected, it was an instant hit for Mary. It was a harder sell for your grumpy boyfriend, but, eventually, even he was enjoying himself, though you weren’t sure if it was because he’d gotten into the fall celebration or if it was just because he was happy that Mary was happy.

By the end of that first day, you knew that you’d just stated a new, annual, family tradition.

[tinyinvadr]

Psychonauts brainrot is in full force! I finished the first game recently and I’m probably gonna start the second one tonight! So, here’s a new fic, (with an OC this time, ooh) let’s see if I finish it lol

Psychoborrower

Prologue

Psychics. Seemingly ordinary people with extraordinary powers, hidden in plain sight. Masters of the mind. You’d think they’d be regarded with only the highest of respect.

But instead, they’re shunned. Cast away. Treated like freaks and monsters for their gifts. It’s the kind of treatment that fosters resentment. Rage. Hatred.

The only way to truly make it is to earn a place in the ranks among the Psychonauts. But even then, only a select few can achieve that. Those who fail are forced back into their everyday lives, where they will have to hide who they truly are, or risk facing an even worse fate.

Though, they’re still better off than me.

At least they have a world to go back to, even if it’s cold and unwelcoming. They still have options open to them, they can still attempt to find happiness in a mundane, ordinary life. Because at the end of the day, psychics are human.

Except for me.

My name is Flint, and as far as I know, I’m the only borrower with psychic powers. To be honest, I have no idea how rare that actually is, since borrowers typically don’t see each other on a regular basis. I can only assume it’s not common, considering how my parents reacted when they found out.

I was only five years old, and they were… horrified.

I had no idea I was different. I just assumed everyone could levitate. But when they walked in on me floating in my room… I’ll never forget the look in their eyes.

The fear and shame directed towards me by my own parents was enough to break my concentration, and I fell flat on my face.

For some time, I stopped using my powers. After all, it was a “bad, dangerous thing”, as Dad described it. But there were some things I just couldn’t help.

I could read minds. And not just my parents, our human hosts too. They had a kid around my age who was also psychic, although they were a lot more supportive of her. They actively helped her learn to control her powers, and didn’t even get mad when she accidentally broke stuff.

Every day, I would watch and listen as she progressed, wishing it was me. But as time went on, I became a rebellious little nine year-old. I started copying her from my place within the walls, always making sure to stay hidden. And I’ve gotta say, I got pretty good all things considered.

Then, one day, the time came for my training to pay off.

Mom and I were out in the garden, collecting fresh vegetables. She had her back turned, but I saw the rabbit just in time.

The beady-eyed demon charged at us. We were in its territory, and it did not intend to share. Thinking fast, I knocked it back with a psychic blast. Stunned and startled, the beast ran away.

In those few short seconds, I felt like a hero. But then, I turned to Mom, and saw that same look in her eyes that almost turned me off from my powers for good.

“Flint… what have you done?”

I got grounded that night, and I was enraged. I saved her, why was she mad at me?

It wasn’t until the next morning that I learned the reason.

Apparently, I hit the rabbit harder than I thought, and it took severe psychic damage. Not enough to kill it, but enough to leave it in an unconscious state. So when the humans went into the garden and found the rabbit, they immediately knew it was knocked out by a psychic blast. And since their daughter was at school the day before, they knew that there had to be another psychic in the area.

I alerted them of my existence. Of our existence. If they found us, it would’ve been my fault.

Mom and Dad started packing up to move right away. We couldn’t stick around long after that incident. But the entire time, I couldn’t help but think that this wouldn’t solve the problem. Even if we moved to a new house, that wouldn’t stop me from being psychic. My only options were to suppress my true nature, or to continue to put my family at risk.

As the last of our belongings were packed, and the school year came to an end, I overheard more from the humans. They were sending their daughter to a psychic summer camp. It was a place for kids to train, to connect with others, and eventually, have the potential to become Psychonauts.

So much of what I’d heard from their thoughts about the Psychonauts intrigued me. They were psychics who went on daring and dangerous missions to save the world from all sorts of threats. They could astral project themselves into the psyches of anyone, and fight their inner demons head-on. And in the mental world, the possibilities are endless. If I could just access it, I wouldn’t have to be a weak, scared little borrower kid anymore. I could be whoever I wanted to be.

And that… was my only chance at redemption.

I felt bad leaving my parents so abruptly, but I knew they would try to stop me if I told them where I was going. It would hurt, but I’d come back as a Psychonaut, proving that my powers truly are good for something, and that borrowers have a place in this world.

With that goal in mind, I stowed away in the girl’s luggage, and I was off to Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp.

It took a few tries to get my astral projection right, but soon enough, I was able to present myself in the mental world at human size. The counselors and the other campers had no clue I was any different.

Of course, the staff did question me. I appeared out of nowhere, seemed to have no family they could get in contact with, and refused to show myself in the physical world.

I told them I’m a master of invisibility, and I take that title very seriously. Coach Oleander and Agent Nein just shrugged it off as me being a weird kid, though Agent Vodello was still very concerned about my lack of parents.

By the end of the first summer, they all gave up on trying to figure me out and just accepted that I was living at the camp with the intention of training there full-time.

Despite all the risks and doubts that I had, going to camp really was my best possible option. I was no longer a danger to my family, and I was on my way to becoming a Psychonaut. It was sure to be a long road ahead. I was so young, and still had a lot to learn.

After a few years, it really felt like I was getting close. I had a reputation around camp as the top student. Serious. Driven. Someone you should aspire to be. I could sense that my chance was right within my reach. I was almost 13, surely they’d have to let me join the Psychonauts soon.

But that summer had other plans. I found myself involved with an insane scheme, and as much as I hate to admit it, I probably wouldn’t have gotten out of it without help from a human kid with goggles.

[lesbianwriter]

Hello there! I'm so glad you survived that stressful week!

As for my request...Would you mind writing something involving a protagonist who actively despises superhumans (or at least the leagues they typically belong to), who has just learned her roommate (who secretly has a crush on her) is in fact a hero or villain (whichever you prefer) who was actively trying to hide her activities and just being... heartbroken about it?

Thanks! Hope you have a much less stressful week!

Thank you sm! :)

Civilian wouldn’t have known who—wouldn’t have know what—Villain was if the truth hadn’t come crashing into the center of their apartment like a wrecking ball.

Silently, she stared at Villain. She stared at her roommate, she stared at the idiot who had once shoved marshmallows in her mouth just to see how many could fit…and she didn’t want to think, she didn’t want to believe, that the same person was one of them.

“Wait—Civilian!” Villain sat up, a hand to her head as she wobbled. “I can—“

“You can explain?” Civilian interjected, sneering. She grit her teeth so hard her jaw hurt. She looked out at the gaping gash in the wall, the chunks of it on the floor, the dusty debris coating everything in sight, and her blood felt red hot. She hissed. “What do you possibly have to say? ‘It’s not what it looks like?’”

“…yeah.” Villain blinked. “But it actually isn’t—“

“I don’t care! To me, It looks like you’re a villain—a superhuman—and you got in a fight with Hero and crashed through the fucking wall! Because that’s what you super humans do! You don’t think about other people, you destroy peoples property and their bodies left and right in your pathetic little battles, and you use your powers as a way to think you’re so much better—that you have a right to just go wild without heeding others.”

She looked out the hole, jagged and cracked, and she glared at the skyline, searching for Hero.

She couldn’t say she was fond of the showboating Hero, but villains were worse because they knew the power they had over the common people and they manipulated their enhanced abilities for evil. It was sickening.

The idea of Villain being a superhuman never crossed her mind. Sure, she was the one that could open the tricky jars that Civilian wasn’t strong enough to, but other than that…there was no sign. Nothing to make her doubt anything about her roommate.

Whimpering faintly, Villain tried to stand up, but fell back down with a yelp. “No…please.” Her eyes were wide, following where Civilian’s were. “I—I understand if you don’t like me much right now, but I promise that there’s more to this…please. You can’t hand me over to Hero.”

“Can’t?” Civilian retorted.

The outside began to rattle, a sure sign that Hero was near and looking for her criminal.

“You won’t.” She pleaded. “I’m still the same person I was before—I…I tried to hide this part of me, but I failed. Obviously.” Her eyes darted from the hole to Civilian. “I’m still the same. Please. I can’t—I can’t be captured.”

Now, there was a crossroads before Civilian. Two choices. Either way, she helped a superhuman. It was only a choice between her roommate—a villain—or an egotistical hero. But at least Hero saved people. She used her abilities for good, and excessive property damage.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have time to explain!” Villain begged, trying to crawl up to her feet, grasping the couch for support.

Civilian grabbed her arm before she toppled, then releasing it as if it were poison. “Fine. Go hide, I’ll lie to Hero.”

“Thank you.” Villain breathed out.

She wiped her hand on her hands and bit on the inside of her mouth as she watched Villain struggle, limping, into one of the bedrooms.

It hurt.

Looking at her hurt. Knowing what she had been living with was a stab to the back. The memories she couldn’t suppress were the twist of the knife.

She didn’t get time to cool off before Hero stepped in through the gash, a blinding grin straight from a toothpaste commercial on her face. “Is Villain here?”

Civilian swallowed. Two superhumans in one day was enough to make her want to bang her head into the wall. “She—she crashed in, but then scattered off somewhere. I don’t know where she went to.”

“No worries,” Hero held up her hands soothingly, but smiled like a hungry hyena. “I’ll find where that evildoer went. In the meantime, you should be getting this—“ she patted at the broken wall, a chunk plopping to the floor. “You should get this registered.”

Yes, and then I’ll wait months to be given barely enough money to cover half the repair cost. Civilian thought it, but she but on her tongue.

Hero flew off in a blaze of glory, and Civilian wished that nothing had ever happened and that she was blissfully ignorant.

—

—

“You better start explaining.” Civilian crossed her arms, leaning in the doorway as her eyes narrowed on Villain’s sunken form.

It looked like a wet stray cat had been plopped into the center of the bed.

It was pathetic; it made Civilian itch to do something about it.

“I’m only a villain because the heroes are actually secretly the bad ones, and I’m trying to fight them for the sake of what’s good—what’s really good—but the heroes don’t like that, so…yeah.” Villain spoke rapidly, her mouth moving faster than her brain.

“Okay, slow down.” Civilian shook her head, more shaken than anything else now that the anger had—temporarily—subsided.

Everybody at home told her she was a volcano. Sometimes, she was dormant, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t magma waiting underneath.

“The heroes are the bad ones. The really bad ones.” Villain said carefully, absently picking at the duvet. “I’m fighting them because I don’t think it’s right what they’re doing. They are experimenting on people—superhuman or not—to try and make everybody enhanced and a lot of other horrifyingly unethical stuff.”

Civilian stayed silent when Villain rolled up her sleeve enough to reveal a small series of numbers on her skin.

“I’m sorry that I brought this here.” Her expression collapsed like a soggy piece of paper. “I tried to hide it. I didn’t want you to get involved, and I knew how you felt about…my type.”

“Why would you still choose to be my roommate if you knew?”

“…I was hoping your mind would change.” Villain’s cheeks flushed, and her eyes darted away. She hurriedly rolled her sleeve back down. “I—I’m sorry! I’ll pay for the repairs and I can leave—“

“Stay.” Civilian blurted out. Hesitantly, she sat on the edge of the bed and found something to do with her hands: picking up the pieces of the first aid kid. “You can stay.”

“Really?”

“I still don’t like superhumans, but I need your half of the rent.”

That was a sound excuse, right?

It wasn’t because she cared, it was because Villain was making her question where her ideals were, it was just because of necessity that she kept Villain near.

Hmm…roommates…I wonder what happened the last time I wrote roommates…

[defectivehero]

I want to start a writing blog kind of like this one, do you have any advice for starting out/gaining followers?

Sure thing! Here are some tips I can think of. (And, as always, remember that my word is not law and you are free to take or leave this advice!)

Reflect on your desires for a writing account and evaluate which platform will be best suited for that purpose. Investigate AO3, Wattpad, and even apps like Instagram to see if you have a specific preference. Each of these platforms come with their own advantages and disadvantages, and their own regulations on content & copyright. Furthermore, different types of content will do well on different types of platforms. Longer pieces are typically better suited for AO3, for example—although Tumblr's "keep reading" tab has certainly helped to breach that gap. Wattpad will be better for multi-chapter stories, typically about romance or self-insert pieces... You get the idea.

On that note, if you're decided on Tumblr, then try to get familiar with the platform. Chances are, if you've used the app before and have been a reader/viewer, then this step will be pretty easy and intuitive for you! But, try to observe how the writing communities in particular function on this app. Tumblr relies on things like hashtags and reblogs, so I'd say it's important to have a solid understanding of them. Hashtags will be very helpful in getting your content to the proper audience, so it's imperative that you get to know the tagging system that the writing community (and any relevant subsets) use to share their work. For example, since I write about heroes and villains a lot, I use tags like "hero x villain" and "heroes and villains"; I also use broader tags like "writers on Tumblr" and "spilled ink," which are more general tags for writing about fiction. Get familiar with the fandom lingo (terms like whump, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, etc.)

2. Next, try to determine what you want out of the blog. Do you want to write because you enjoy it, or do you want to write to build a platform and gain followers? There's nothing wrong with the latter, but keep in mind that growth can often be slow—and you don't want your expectations to be unrealistic. I had the fortune to be writing on this platform a few years ago, back when hero/villain was a new concept and there was a small, tight knit group of users that contributed to the idea (@creweemmaeec11 , @nuttynutcycle , @the-modern-typewriter, @kactus-loves-writing, @gingerly-writing, and other honorable mentions <3) and contributed to its growth. Now, there are writing blogs all over Tumblr—and while that is far from a bad thing, that means it will be more difficult to gather and maintain a following.

With that in mind, if you're dead-set on gaining followers, here are some tips:

Try to network. Networking, in this sense, just refers to interacting with other writing accounts. Follow the accounts you like, interact with their posts, reblog & comment on their works. This will help, because other users will see your blog in the reblogs. I did this back when I was a smaller blog, and I am forever grateful to the accounts listed above and countless others for helping me get here. (I have struggles with social media, so I unfortunately don't have mutuals anymore, but know that I endlessly appreciate all my old mutuals!!!)

Have a consistent upload schedule. I think this was a super important contributor to my blog's growth. Back in my beginning days, I was posting nearly every day. This was hardly a requirement, and that's not necessarily what I'm suggesting either—it's not practical to expect that kind of activity every day, especially if you have school, a full-time job, a family to provide for, etc. But! When you *do* upload, try to pick a time and day and stick to that. Test this out, too. See what time and day your content gets more interactions and then stick to that time & day.

Fill out prompts. It can be difficult to get your writing out there, even with all these tips. Check out some good prompt blogs, reblog their prompts (giving them credit!!!!! and reading through their rules!!!!!) and add your writing in the reblogs. Users will see your writing in the reblogs, and that can sometimes be a better way of assuring your posts get more attention.

Create prompts. This is another simple, easy way to get more interactions. Prompts are nice because they typically don't require lengthy posts, and they literally encourage people to reblog, comment, and add their own writing! Just make sure that you're comfortable with the idea of people adding on to your writing (and the potential for them to take it and not credit you properly) before doing this. I learned that lesson the hard way... Prompts are practically designed for community interaction!!!!

Other blog tips:

Contemplate what you want to write about. There are topics on Tumblr that, in my not so humble opinion, have already been thoroughly explored (cough, cough) and topics that have some intriguing, exciting potential. This is going to be very "marketing" of me to say, but evaluate the current market, see what the supply and demand is, and go from there. Try to combine what you want to write with what the community seems to desire. Don't be afraid to embrace uniqueness. The more quirky and unique, the better. (But try to have at least some universal appeal. Too much quirkiness will ostracize your content.)

Make sure your blog is filled out, layout-wise. Have an eye-catching profile picture and banner, a thorough bio, and a relevant pinned post. Think of your blog as your brand, in a way. You want people to recognize your profile from the first glance. And, if they're new, you want to intrigue them with your profile—show them something that they feel they can't look away from.

Be courteous to others. This one's pretty much already implied, but it can't be overstated. Half of Tumblr's magic is that the writing community here is pretty polite (and I can only hope that I'm a shining example of that /s). If you see something you don't like, keep scrolling. If you see content that really bothers you, go to your display settings and make sure you have filtered tags/themes on so that you can avoid seeing that content in the future. If something isn't your cup of tea, that's okay—it could very well be someone else's. I hate to say it, but the world could always use more positivity. We're all constantly learning more, so don't shit on anyone for wanting to be more knowledgeable!

Those are just a few tips that I have. Hope these help, and good luck with your blog!

Best,

Hero

<3

(not me signing this like an email, plssss)

[ssmtskw]

Hello and welcome!

Replacing my pinned with a list of the stuff I've written for anyone checking my account out. Heh. Everything is sorted by fandom, and then word count! (And if there's something I should add to the tagging, please feel free to send me a message about it so I can make the edits.) Enjoy... hopefully!

RWRB

some part of me came alive - 10,979 words [college-ish AU, 5+1]

"Bye David." David's head snaps back to Alex's direction, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly you'd think it wasn't even there. Alex, having just removed his glasses again as he yawns once more, doesn't see it. David takes a couple seconds before slightly shaking his head, like he's just imagining something and is now actively wiping the thought away. He opens the door before he responds. "Bye Alex."

(Or: The five times Alex unintentionally calls Henry by his dog’s name, and the one time he does it on purpose.)

Francesca - 10,189 words [graphic depictions and references of violence/abuse/injuries]

Once, in a much worse place before all of this; Alex had worked for someone with one side of his office overflowing with books. He'd read all sorts of things there: Anatomy, selected works in philosophy, Oliver Twist, war hero accounts, law. Anything he could get a hold of in the dark, really. Among those books were a bible. There's a passage there that stuck— something he'd only read past but had barraged into the walls of Alex's mind three years ago, Book of Jeremiah, chapter 17, verse 9: The heart is more deceitful than anything else and is desperate. Who can know it?

Love Songs in the Key of Liam - 8,152 words [Liam POV/centric, 5+1]

It's fucked. He's fucked — Liam, that is. There was no way this was going to work. Ever. What's the next worst thing to growing up closeted in a typically close-minded neighbourhood? Probably developing a crush on your best friend who lives in said neighbourhood. (Or: The five times love songs reminded Liam of his now estranged best friend, and the one time it reminded him of someone else.)

Terrible Things - 4,038 words [Hanahaki AU, hurt/no comfort]

"How long?" That, he can answer. "A year or so." He croaks out, not really wanting to strain himself any further.

water in my hands - 3,521 words [sickfic(?), has references to illness, hurt/no comfort]

It takes Alex a good amount of time to realise; sometimes love just isn't enough to keep the world going, even if he desperately wanted it to.

no question (he'll hold your heart if you let him) - 2,837 words [June POV/outsider POV, post-canon]

June doesn't think much about it at first, putting the box along the pile, but she belatedly realises what it is and gets an idea. A satisfied grin makes its way onto her lips when she finally finds it, an edition of Astrotalk that detailed star sign compatibilities. June doesn't open the magazine all the way to the Libra section, stopping short at someone else's instead. (Or: June finds a box that contained one of her teenage fixations and goes through it for old time's sake.)

Smoke Slow - 2,026 words [shotgun kissing oneshot basically]

“Hey.” Alex says, just for the sake of saying something, the silence between them wasn’t stifling but he didn’t want to risk their interaction coming to an end just because he’s not engaging enough. Henry gives him a sideways glance. “Teach me how to do that.”

“Do what?”

“That. The shotgun.” For a moment, Alex briefly considers how idiotic that probably sounded to Henry. It wasn’t a hard task to mimic, but Alex had long thrown out his composure out the fences of Pez’s house when Henry put the goddamn stick into his mouth. 

i'll be happy (just to have known you) - 1,855 words [hurt/no comfort]

Henry resigns himself to the reality that Alex—albeit distant and unattainable—still managed to break through his dismal world and grant him a light he never imagined was still possible to exist. This was enough. This was more than he'd ever expected for himself. It was the universe's way of extending an olive branch in response to the cards he'd been dealt with. He'd be stupid not to take it.

dreamy little you - 1,666 words [crack-ish AU, post-canon]

"Of course, love, but would you love yourself if you were a worm?" This visibly stumps Alex. If the way his mouth just opened for a rebuttal and coming up empty is anything to go by.

only got a hundred - currently at 4,008 words

An ongoing collection of 100-word drabbles written according to the Brownstone server's prompts.

Haikyuu

Ceilings (he thinks it's not real, it is) - 6,009 words [light angst and pining with a happy? ending]

“Yo, you sleepy?” Takahiro meant to say that no, he isn't. That Issei looks stupid with his hair messed up like that. That he should be asking Issei that, with the bags under his eyes speaking for themselves. Instead, what comes out is, “I miss you.” It would be so easy to take the opportunity now. But still, Takahiro is terrified of ruining things. Or: Takahiro has graduation blues, and Issei makes him feel better, but things don't just end there.

Bloom - 1,444 words [two-dialogue challenge oneshot, retrospective? angst/no comfort]

Matsukawa Issei is not much of a sentimental person, save for special occasions where he has no choice but to reminisce.

Cruel (what your mind can do for no reason) - 1,012 words [light angst/comfort, implications of dissociation]

Issei struggles through a bad mental health night, Takahiro breezes him through the tail end of it.

Shameless (US)

big guns out, shoot now - 3,257 words [first kiss oneshot]

It's kind of out of character for Ian, really, he's always careful about not blurting out or doing shit that tapped into his feelings on the brunette, around the very subject of his affections. Has been, in fact, for the last two years and counting. Not that it got any easier to maintain, there are always slip ups (Exhibit A: right here, right now), but that's solely his problem.

On the Off Chance - 5,780 words [soulmate AU, ongoing]

To say Ian was relieved when he hears Mickey confirm how he did not, in fact, get his soulmate mark just a couple days after coming of age would be a huge understatement. (Or: Soulmate marks only show up when the younger of the pair turns nineteen– which isn’t uncommon, to say the least.)

[stranded-labyrinth]

hannigram spideypool au how horrible would it be go

i think the funniest thing is that the Deadpool wit and knack for pissing people off would stay, but the vulgarity would be gone. plus, of course, a complete outfit change, because antihero homicidal maniac or not, Hannibal would not be caught dead wearing that. Spider-Man probably stays mostly the same, maybe the outfit is less saturated, or the red is a bit more brown or something.

friendly neighborhood Spider-Man doesn't like drawing attention to himself, only to come across a rather fancy looking masked menace who just flooded the road with the blood of a dozen men, but still stops to give a polite greeting to acknowledge the spider's presence.

webbing him to keep him from killing goes about as well as you would expect.

"Is this your typical method of restraint?"

"Yes. Now shut up, police are on their way."

"How dreadful. Being escorted from your snug webbing to cheap cuffs, metal for the appearance of quality but also lacking in any personal intent. Your webs are a part of you-"

"I made web shooters, actually."

"...They do not come out of you?"

"No- Wh- How in the hell did you think that would work?"

"Forgive me for figuring that the man who can climb walls without assistance of any devices could perform other activities of a similar caliber. As I was saying-"

"You're not staying in my webbing."

"It would be more courteous to allow me to finish, if you wouldn't mind. Your webs are something unique to you, regardless of biological or mechanical output, and the-"

Will webs his mouth shut. he groans upon realizing that the webs only cover the mask, and not the mouth underneath.

"...I expected better from you, Mr. Spider-Man. They do call you a hero, after all."

"Yeah, sure. Wonder who survives you to call you anything."

"I'm surprised you've yet to lift the veil, to see for yourself what lies beneath the mask."

"I don't find you that interesting."

"You will."