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bloodlust-1 · 6 months

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༻ 3 Nights ༺ part 1

Gortash x fem Tav — mini series Explicit 18+

Summary: Gortash invites Tav to stay 3 days at his palace for the sake of an alliance. Reluctantly, she compromises for peace and it becomes an experience they won’t forget.

T/W: language, manipulation, blood

Notes: okay. Yes, he’s been my new obsession so I had to write something up. This is a bit of a long one, I’m planning to do a few parts in total. Enjoy ;)

Tav arrived at the tyrant’s palace, and she couldn’t shake off the feeling of foreboding that settled in the pit of her stomach.

Arguably, this could be the stupidest thing Tav’s ever done. To agree and comply with Gortash for the sake of an alliance for some sort of peace.

This alliance was just for the time being, of course, Tav was way too ahead of her plans to betray him when the time came. To seal the alliance, Gortash requested Tav to stay 3 days with him. Not a hard task but it made Tav extremely suspicious of him to even request such a thing.

Tav only agreed to see if she could infiltrate any plans stashed away in his office. This could totally be a one-up in the game for her. But for now…Tav forced her shoulders high with a brave feeling in her chest, and she barged right into his palace doors.

Tav was quickly met with metal steel watchers, and they instantly alerted their attention to her, “Lord Gortash has been waiting for you. Meet him upstairs in the main room, he won't ask twice.”

She rolled her eyes and swatted away the watchers. She didn't need an invitation and she sure as hell didn't need to listen to Gortash's orders. She did as she pleased, and with that, she made her way to his quarters. Making a few stops to peer into different doors here and there.

As Tav continued to his quarters she was met with a pair of dark eyes. Gortash's cold, calculating eyes seemed to pierce through her as he welcomed her to his palace. Despite his courteous demeanor, Tav could sense the aura of ruthlessness that surrounded him.

"My favorite little hero is finally here. Come in, make yourself comfortable." His words were laced with veiled threats, and she realized that he pulled out a chair for her.

Tav walked into the room, crossed her arms, and refused to sit, "I hope you have some better guest adequate considering you weren't there to greet me at the palace door. Just remember this whole —" She waved her hands around, "Thing going on is not for fun and games."

Tav despised Gortash for his cruelty and oppression, yet she knew that aligning with him was crucial for achieving her own goals. Her conscience wrestled with the moral implications of her actions, and she found herself questioning whether the ends justified the means.

Gortash's lips tugged into a smile, "Dear, this is so we can trust each other. An alliance is what you want, isn't it? We should trust one another if that's to happen."

His eyes lingered around Tav's body. It admittingly made her a bit uncomfortable although her armour did leave a lot to be desired. "Really? Armor darling. " He clicked his teeth and shook his head, "This is my home, not a battlefield."

He yelled out for a servant, who came scurrying into his quarters, "Please give our guest some proper clothing. She will be staying a couple nights here. She is to look like a proper lady before dinner. Now, go."

Tav's eyebrows furrowed as his cruel words hissed at her, "Excuse me? A 'proper lady'? That's a hunk of bullshit!" She snapped back at Gortash, who quickly ignored her by leaving the room with an amused smug on his face.

"Come, my lady, let's get you cleaned up." Tav was still on guard, but she agreed to give the servant an easy time. So, she followed her into a bedroom attached to a lavish bathroom. A marbled tub ran with warm water that was adorned with many soaps and rose petals.

Gods, when was the last time Tav enjoyed a bath?

The air was filled with the delicate scent of flowers, and Tav undressed her armor, letting it fall onto the carpet. She stepped into the warm embrace of the water and cleansed herself of any traveler grim. The soaps soaked into her skin, leaving Tav smelling divine.

After her bath, there was a set of clothes laid on the edge of the bed. Tav tried on the white dress, with golden embroidering and frilled sleeves. There was also a black corset to pull the whole outfit together. Tav felt beautiful yet uncomfortable.

The same servant walked into the room with a hairbrush and pins, "Allow me to pin your hair, my lady."

Some time had gone by before Tav was deemed "acceptable" to sit with Gortash for dinner. She thought it was absolutely ridiculous, and these days may go by slower than she thought.

Her heels clicked against the palace floor as she made her way into the dining room. When the doors opened, there he was. Those same dark eyes piercing her own.

The long dining table was set with fine china, crystal glassware, and flickering candlelight. Tav's gown shimmered in the soft glow of the room, and she purposely took her seat at the far end of Gortash.

Tav pulled out the seat and purposely plucked herself onto the chair. She looked the part but certainly didn't act like it.

Gortash’s eyebrows curved into a questionable look. He brought his elbows onto the table, bringing his fists to rest against his mouth. There was a long silent pause, he peered at Tav trying to get a good read on her.

"Let us get to know each other, hm?" He brought his hands away from his face and picked up a glass of wine instead to sip.

Tav hunched over the table, her hands balled into fists. She gave him a threatening stare, "Gortash, Did you not hear me earlier? I am not here for fun and games, so whatever it is you're trying to do — stop it."

He snickered, damn was this amusing for him. He had never met anyone who just waltzed their way into his palace to pick a fight. She was a nobody. Gortash, he was somebody. Yet she came to him with confidence, an alliance, and now she's here in his home. How entertaining was this whole debacle? He wanted to push her as much as he could. It was all a manipulation tactic to see how far he could go.

"Enver— Call me Enver for the next 2 days. But like I stated, let's get to know each other, little hero. I'd love to hear about your background." His head tilted with a mischievous smile on his face.

"That's none of your concern." Tav spat out harshly, with a threatening glare. They were both testing each other.

The air was still and tense, and Gortash's presence dominated the area. His evil smile radiated a chill throughout the room. "Isn't it? I am lord now, and I want all my baldurians to be considered. Especially my most favorite citizen."

He reached out his hand, the tips of his fingers adorned with the sharp glove that pointed into hooks. "I'd love to hear about that pathetic fucking camp you have right outside the city. A shame it would be if something were to happen while their leader's gone."

"What...How did you —"

He spoke with command, "See, that's something I learned about you. When you care to get to know someone, these things come easy. But please, you're welcome to search this whole palace all you want. Maybe you'll find something about me worth learning."

"Okay, I'll humor you— but first, we need to lay some ground rules. If you respect my rules, I'll respect yours. "

"I’m listening, Tav."

A chill ran down her spine when he spoke her name. It cringed her and only made her rules more needed, " 1: You will not hurt my camp, 2: You will not try to attack me, and 3: I will roam freely where I please."

"Yes, yes, and yes, you have my word." He nodded in agreement. The room was tense at this point, but he still locked eyes with Tav. Her beauty was one he saw in paintings, and she was free to his viewing pleasure. A thought crept into his mind: what if she was mine? An interesting thought indeed. He cleared his throat, "Tell me about yourself."

Throughout the meal, the conversation between them was polite but strained. Tav struggled to maintain her composure, her uncertainty about Gortash's intentions gnawing at her. She couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was walking on thin ice, unsure of what might be his true motive.

Despite her unease, Tav maintained a facade of politeness, engaging in small talk and lurking eyes on one another. She would look away each time she caught herself staring at his exposed chest. It angered her even more that Gortash was attractive. Only when he spoke would his image crumble for her.

As the evening wore on, she found herself carefully measuring her words and actions, acutely aware of the potential consequences of missteps in this precarious situation.

After dinner, Tav wandered around the palace. By this time, the sun had set and the palace went dark. Only a few candles lit the room, barely reaching its light out to see clearly. Tav kept a pocket knife on her hidden in the folds of her clothes.

She grabbed a candle stick and began to investigate the rooms. There were many rooms, a lot of them were untouched. Tav thought he must've been very lonely in these walls. instantly she shook her head, she did not want to pity him. After all, he's the villain.

Tav found herself standing in a room aligned with many books and a single desk inside. It appeared to be a study, and she waved her candle around the room. A fresh painting hung on the wall: a portrait of Gortash.

Tav studied the art, and it was a very well drawing of him. It even captured how deep his jacket cut, exposing the hair on his chest. She only knew this by how hard she was staring at it at dinner. Her eyes scanned his face, examining the scars on his jaw that she hadn't noticed.

A handsome man he was, truly.

Tav stepped back from the picture, she was looking for any signs of any importance. The desk was littered with folders, papers, and crumbled notes. She settled the candle on a stand as her fingers sorted out the piles of paper.

Most of what she read was events that already happened from Moonrise. Tav placed the pile down and reached out for one of the crumbled letters. It was a letter about her. Surprisingly, there were people already sending Gortash news about her even before the takedown of Ketherick.

He truly had eyes everywhere.

As her eyes lingered on the note there was a huge knocking noise. Her head shot up and was matched with Gortash’s presence. His broad physic leaned against the door way, his arms crossed and he looked at Tav questionably.

“Well— did you find anything worth learning?” His eyes were cold, his demeanor felt off, and he was already making his way towards her before words could come out.

Tav shot the letter away from her face, “You knew about me this whole time… what’s the point of this? I know my reasonings for an alliance but what’s yours?” There had been tension between them all day and enough was enough. She needed to know his intentions before she stupidly fell into his game.

Gortash grabbed Tav’s chin firmly, forcing her to look up at him. His eyes were filled with a mix of desire and control as he attempted to assert his dominance over her.

Tav's expression remained resolute, refusing to succumb to his intimidation.

She struggled against his hold, refusing to show any sign of submission. Gortash’s grip on her chin tightened. Despite his forceful demeanor, Tav met his gaze with unwavering strength, silently challenging his authority.

“Power, of course. I need you and you need me, so I’ll play nice.” His voice became low, “Only cause I tolerate you.” He forcibly tilted her face as his eyes traced the contours of Tav's face. “You are one fine specimen.”

Tav’s eyes went wide and her face went pale. Did they actually find each other attractive? Gortash continued to speak, “I’ll give you something to imagine: A kingdom loyal to their court. A king and queen sat next to each other as everyone bowed to them. Their power: unmatched. Their strength: untouchable. Their bond: unbreakable. Are you painting this picture? This could be you and I. My equal and my right hand.” The warmth of his breath hit against her skin. She was still under his hold and a rush of warmth hit her body. Her knees buckled and her face grew red. What in the hells was she thinking?!

Tav's heart started to race under his touch. He physically towered over her and his face was undeniably closer to her face than ever. Tav stared at him with defiance but her body language went against her will.

He was just another man under all this drama, and his intimidation felt almost….sensual? It was a mix of emotions she never felt.

“You can let go of my face now.”

With a swift motion, the claw of his glove snagged a small cut on her cheek. Tav winced and used all her force to push him away. She palmed her face, and the slick had already started to drip down her jaw.

Tav's adrenaline kicked in as she pulled the pocket knife out, charging at him with a shove. The blade sunk into the nape of his neck as Tav's body pinned his closely against hers on a wall.

Her eyes raged as she looked into his gaze from the dimmed light. Just as he did, she swiped her knife against his skin. Only enough to create a small laceration just like hers.

His hand gripped Tav's wrist. The claw of his gloves pressed against Tav’s skin— Giving it a tight squeeze, and knocked the knife out of her grip.

With his free hand, he closed the gap between their bodies, “Is this your way of flirting? We’re both a mess now.” The slick of blood streamed down into his chest.

Tav quickly surrendered to the pain that shot up from her wrist. So, she let her restraint down. Gortash saw her surrender and loosened his grip, “Good girl.”

Tav scoffed, “Bastard.”

“I know.”

Gortash let go of her body and walked back to the desk, opened the drawer, and pulled out a small kit of some sort. Gortash then lent out a hand, waiting for Tav to accompany it, “Come, girl.”

She frowned and shook her head, “I’m not holding your hand.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, “Suit yourself. Let that—“ He pointed at her cheek, “get infected all you want.” It was then that Tav noticed it was a medical kit. Was he trying to clean her cut? Strange.

Gortash took the kit and walked out of the study and back into the dark halls. With an annoyed groan, Tav followed aimlessly for him. His heavy boots hitting the floor echoed throughout the hall. It gave the atmosphere an unsettling aura.

She was led into a familiar room— it was exactly the one she settled herself in earlier. Gortash dragged a nearby chair to the end of the bed. He sat down, his legs spread while he hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, “Sit.” He spoke in a commanding monotoned voice.

Tav hesitated, she had little trust in him. However, with a skeptical feeling, Tav sat on the edge of the bed in front of him. Gortash opened the kit and drenched a cotton ball with alcohol, "Look at me." He commanded with a softer tone this time.

Tav sat still as he brought the cotton to her cheek, lightly dabbing it against the wound. She winced and scrunched her face in pain.

Secretly he enjoyed seeing her in pain. Something about the way her eyes weakened sent shivers up his spine. Gortash continued to clean the cut with precision, his touch gentle yet firm. Tav's breathing began to steady as she relaxed into his care.

He reached for a bandage and carefully applied it to Tav's face. He leaned back, admiring his handiwork with a satisfied smile, "While I do enjoy the blood, I wouldn't want to mess the silk bedding. "

"I do as I please." Tav pouted. Her eyes fixated on the now-dried blood that rained down into his chest. Her eyes traced the trail into the same spot she had been staring at dinner. He was...nice, to look at she supposed.

Gortash leaned closer to her, he had caught Tav staring a little too hard at him. Being stealthy was something Tav was horrible at considering she bursted into his coronation. This realization filled him with confidence as his charm and poise alter a subtle change in Tav's behavior. She was seeing something she liked in him.

Gortash firmly put his hands on Tav's shoulders, shoving her back onto the mattress. Tav let out a small gasp as he hovered over her small stature. His hungry eyes viewed every little piece of skin available to him.

Calculating eyes bore into her, as he leaned forward, his voice dripping with contempt. "Do it. Do as you please."

A shiver ran up her spine. She wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing, but her body completely froze under him. Her mouth parted with no words left to say.

What the hell was he doing? Why couldn't she move? Maybe it was how handsome she found his restless eyes. Or the way his body was strong and tall. Gortash always stared so passionately at her, even now.

With no response, her eyes glistened with anticipation. Gortash brought his lips close to Tav's mouth. Only the slightest space between them, Gortash's eyes downcasted on her while her heart thumped against his skin. The warmth of his breath caressed her lips. Tav closed her eyes and submitted to the tension between them.

"Tch—" Gortash scoffed teasingly.

The warmth Tav felt suddenly grew cold. She opened her eyes to see Gortash standing over the bed. There was no kiss. Tav propped her elbows up, why did he leave? A slight shame cast on Tav as she lay there dumbfounded. Was he just toying with her?

"Rest, I will be expecting you for breakfast." Gortahs's arms crossed as he stared down at Tav like a scolding parent, "Don't make me wait." With that, Gortash walked out of the room.

He purposely planted a seed into Tav's head of control as soon as she let her guard down. His deceit would have her tossing and turning all night.

To be Continued ~

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

Part 2 here!

#bg3 fluff #bg3 tav #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 gortash #lord gortash #enver gortash #gortash x reader #gortash x durge #gortash smut #gortash x tav

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tildeathiwillwrite · 5 months

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Merry Whumpmas 2023 Day 28: Scars

Week 4 of this bullshit. Only 3 more days left to go! Enjoy.

This is a direct continuation of Day 6: No Where to Go.

TW: painkillers, anesthesia mention, death mention, surgery, burn scars, mentioned abuse

Hero awoke slowly, their thoughts moving sluggishly through their tired mind. Their eyelids were heavier than bricks, but they forced them open, unease and uncertainty roiling in their stomach. The harsh lights overhead hurt their eyes, and they squinted, trying to filter out the brightness and make out their surroundings.

“Oh, you’re awake now.”

Hero turned their head, finding Villain leaning over them. They realized they were sprawled on a flat, uncomfortable surface. Villain’s head was bowed, their concentration intent upon Hero’s side. Hero tried to see what they were looking at, but they couldn’t raise their head.

“Sorry, I guess I didn’t sedate you enough,” Villain mumbled, reaching for something out of sight. “You were already unconscious, so I had to estimate. I think I gave you enough analgesics though. Does it hurt?”

Hero realized with a sudden jolt of fear that they couldn’t move anything but their eyes and head. Were their arms tied down? They couldn’t feel any restraints… “N… no…” they whispered through numb lips.

Villain nodded, distracted. Their hand returned, now clutching a pair of tweezers with gloved hands. The gloves were splattered with blood. “That’s good. Let me know if that changes. It’s not gonna be fun once they wear off.”

Hero swallowed, eyes darting about the room. The walls were exposed brick, and the only lighting appeared to be the one directly overhead, illuminating Villain’s work. Whatever that work was. Was the blood on their hands Hero’s? The only exit appeared to be a door to Hero’s right, behind Villain.

Metal clicked on metal, and Hero’s eyes darted back as Villain exhaled in relief. “Got the bullet out. Now I just gotta stitch you up and give you some more analgesics and maybe some anesthesia.”

Their words sounded almost foreign to Hero. The only thing they understood through the hazy fog was that Villain… seemed to be helping them? “O… okay….”

Villain worked in silence for a few minutes. Hero still couldn’t see what they were doing, so they gazed at Villain instead. Sometime between when Hero had passed out in that dark alley and when they’d woken up in this room, Villain had removed their mask. Their hair had been hastily pulled back, and Hero could clearly see their profile.

They looked normal enough at first, but as Hero’s eyes adjusted to the harsh lighting, they noticed the long, dark scar snaking down Villain’s face. It was old, blending in with their skin tone, but unmistakably a burn scar.

As if in response, the skin on Hero’s upper back tingled, where one of their allies had grazed them during a training session. They’d been drilling reflexes by launching small fireballs at Hero nonstop until they got hit. Once they did, the ally chastised Hero and ordered them to go to the medical bay. They didn’t even help Hero to their feet.

The incident had been almost a month and a half ago, and the burn still wasn’t fully healed. The affected skin itched constantly, especially when Hero tried to sleep. But Hero’s team leader refused to give them anything besides a small amount of aloe on the grounds of ‘building pain tolerance.'

It was all bullshit, as Hero later learned when they broached the idea of taking a break from the team for a little while. None of their ‘allies’ had responded well.

Hero closed their eyes. They didn’t know how long they were trapped in the team headquarters before escaping and fleeing to Villain’s section of the city. They barely remembered most of it, and they didn’t want to. But thinking of it brought images of Whumper, of them beating and belittling Hero for their weakness.

But Whumper was dead now.

Villain had shot them.

Villain had saved Hero.

As if in response to Hero’s thoughts, Villain spoke. “Alright,” they said softly, “I’m done.”

Hero opened their eyes. Villain massaged the sides of their temples, bloody gloves removed. “You’re one stubborn person, Hero,” they said, mouth cracking into an exhausted grin.

“Uh… tha… thank you….”

A look of concern crossed Villain’s face. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, both from the gunshot and…” they gestured to the various cuts and bruises all over Hero’s body. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you woke up at all. I patched up the worst of it, but you’re gonna be recovering for a while.”

Hero blinked, the memory of their team leader fresh in their mind. “Are… are we… safe… here…?”

Villain glanced over their shoulder to the door. A beat of silence passed before they answered. “Yeah, pretty sure. We’re in one of my safe houses right now, no one saw us come in. And the only one who saw you come to me is now dead in an alley which—” they grimaced— “isn’t going to bode well for me whether or not your former team connects the dots.”

“...I’m… I’m sorry I…”

Villain held up their hands, scowling. “Do not apologize. You needed help, you still need help, and I promise you: I’m not gonna let those assholes lay a finger on you. Understand?”

Hero nodded to the best of their ability. Their movement was still limited, but they had begun to regain sensation in their fingers and toes. They wiggled them experimentally. It was like moving someone else’s hand.

The motion caught Villain’s eye, and they smacked the side of their head. “Right. Analgesics. I’ll be right back, you do not want the painkillers to wear off anytime soon.”

Hero watched them leave. They slowly exhaled, trying to calm their racing nerves.

They were safe.

Villain had promised.

Everything would be okay.

Part 1 | Part 3

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moondropstash · 5 months

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Another WIP! Bigger this time, part of a larger project I hope to pick up again after the holidays.

SFW/only suggestive here in this chunk.

~2200 words, Moon x reader. No particular content warnings necessary! What about that hypnosis function, huh Moon? :)c

° • ¤ ☆ ¤ • °

You’re good at your job - or so you thought.

Sure, ok, it’s not usually much of a job. There’s a 90% chance you’re only in the daycare for the benefit of the parents since Sun and Moon have this place on lock, but you’re not completely useless. You help. You pass out snacks. You clean up glitter (so much glitter). You spelunk into the depths of the ball pit after lost plushes and shoes while Sun comforts the wailing child, and emerge like a hero with your spoils. And after months, Moon finally let you help with naptime.

He watches you like you’re handling a bomb instead of little Sydney’s favorite pillow, but at least he lets you out from behind the desk now.

And you thought you were getting pretty good at it. There’s only one Moon after all, and sometimes there’s more than one really fussy kid. Most times, really. But goddamn. After the dozenth time watching Moon lull a screeching demon child to sleep in under a minute flat, upon whom all your efforts had been for naught, you finally snap.

You drop down next to him on the plush tiles on the outskirts of the nap area, leveling your most determined stare at him as he twists his head towards you with a jingle and a questioning flicker of his optics.

“Ok man. Spill.”

His face clicks to the side, his nearly ever-present grin growing wider. Your eyes narrow.

“Spill what?”

“How you do that,” you whisper-yell, leaning into his bubble and waving towards the slumbering angel a dozen feet away that had been hell-bent on ripping out your hair minutes before. “That kid was out for blood and then you pick them up and wham! Out like a light - and don’t you dare say magic!”

“But I am.” Slowly, with a series of purposefully loud snaps and clacks, he twists his frame at the waist to align his upper half towards you while his legs stay placidly crossed, his faceplate spinning once as you scoff. Maybe that would get a rise out of your coworkers, but you don’t spend months around these two contortionists and not get innoculated to a few uncanny angles. With a hissed chuckle and unmistakable smugness, he wiggles his fingers. “Metal - and magic.”

“Bullshit,” you spit with mock venom, Moon giggling as the two of you lean ever closer. With a grin near as wide as his, you jab a finger against his chassis. “I have scrubbed glitter glue, paint, and substances unknown to mankind off every inch of you and I haven’t seen a single sketchy rune or magic crystal.”

Moon cackles low in his voicebox, swaying and jingling with each poke of your finger before he raises his own, claws extending with a crisp snk and tut-tuts back with a sharp claw. “Not looking close enough.”

You blow a raspberry back at him, swatting at his hand with a smirk as it silently dances out of reach.

The claws bothered you when you first started. The idea of giving the childcare robot literal razors in his hands was dumbfounding - seeing Sun pop them out to open boxes even more so - but after looking at the Glamrocks, now you just figure the designer has a thing. You’re not paid enough to ponder what kinks the artist has, after all, and there’s only so many times a person can have knives laid across their shoulders and still work up a fuss. And, frankly, if an hour of your shift goes by without either of these two not slipping a hand across your arm or leaning on you or touching you somehow, you’d think they were broken.

That’s probably your fault.

You’ve always been tactile, and then they gave you coworkers starved for touch. What little remained of your personal bubble died within the week. What kind of monster would refuse Sun a hug, or tell Moon to stop draping across them like an oversized cat? Not you.

Doesn’t hurt that it’s fun.

Moon’s eyes gleam bright, playful crimson as you lean even further into his space, dragging your other hand up his chest plating. Slowly. Following the seam of black and white, skittering the edges of his buttons with dull nails. You feel his claws settle across your thighs, points pricking just enough to remind you of their presence.

There’s a moment of quiet. The two of you, watching each other with mirror grins, fingers dancing across metal and fabric. Then your hand darts up, grabbing his neck ruffles and yank him even closer.

His bells jostle, jingling sharply, and you laugh silently in triumph. Barely two inches separate your faces now, his lanky form bent towards you like a willow branch. This close, you can see every chip and irregularity in his paint. The way his optics tremble in repressed delight, the red light that floods your vision flickering-stuttering in brightness as he hisses a near silent giggle, face twisting and clicking to the side until his gleaming teeth nearly touch your skin.

Snap-snap.

He clacks sharp teeth together twice, his large hands resting heavy on your thighs. Just enough for his claws to teeter at the edge of painful on your flesh; maybe enough to draw pin-pricks of blood. You’ll find out later.

You ignore his little show.

Instead, you make a slow, obvious job of looking him over. Scrutinizing every inch of his plating - ah, hell, that paint’s going to suck to scrub off later - until, finally, you close the distance between you, resting your forehead against his own with a smirk.

“Is this close enough?”

Moon cackles. Your hand releases his ruffles to slip around his shoulders, muffling your own laughter as he bonks his head against your own. It’s no surprise when his claws slip free, ghosting up your back to pull you close like a plush and drag you both into a sprawl on the ground, his shoulders propped up against a squashy, ancient beanbag to keep his loop from jamming into the floor. You rest your chin on his chassis, the two of you sparing a moment to glance at the snoozing kids. All good. No stirring, no fussing.

It’s a fine line to toe - goofing off with Moon, but quiet enough to not cause a disturbance. His eyes scan the room a moment longer than yours do, but once they’re back on you, you knock softly on his plating with your knuckles.

“No, but seriously Moon. I’m feeling inadequate here. Unable to equal your mechanical superiority etcetera. Can I have like, a tip? Pretty please?”

He hums. Low and slow, making sure you feel the hum of his mechanisms working away below you inside his shell, before he lifts away his hands from your back and raises a claw to his grin.

“It’s a secret.”

Before your retort makes it past your tongue, his claw rests carefully against your lips.

“Shh,” he hisses, barely audible. His eyes flick to his other hand and your own follow silently.

It’s raised. His fingers waggle at you before he twists his wrist strangely - and one of the bells on his wrist tumbles down, suspended on the length of ribbon. You raise an eyebrow at him, only for his claw to hook under your chin and turn you back to the hanging bell.

The dim neon star-lights of the darkened daycare glisten across its surface. Brassy and flawless, it hangs limply until Moon slowly twitches his wrist and it begins to swing.

Back. And forth.

As steady as a metronome, a deep sea of stars glitters on the metal.

And then he closes his claws around it with a low laugh.

You blink.

“Feeling sleepy?”

His words slide off you at first, before they hit you like a truck and you gape at him, Moon giggling and terribly pleased with himself as he tugs the bell and ribbon back into place on his wrist.

“No.”

“Magic.”

You have to bite down your words, remembering at the last second that there’s two dozen kids sleeping a few feet away and huffing out the yell you’d wanted to spit at him with a smack against his plating.

“Moon, I can accept the ‘melatonin’ candies but are you selling me snake oil now? Hypnotism?”

His face spins a circle, hat jingling against the beanbag as he resettles his hands on your back.

“Unofficial function,” he says, claws dancing a smug jig across your skin.

That stops your retort. The claws are an unofficial feature. Unlisted and unreviewed, included for nebulous reasons. And now - hypnotism. Assuming he’s not just fucking with you. You prop your chin up on your arm, frowning.

“You being serious, Moondrop?”

He makes a vague hum, preoccupied with dragging a finger down your spine. You chew on the idea, but disbelief is definitely winning out. Hypnotism’s the kind of shit your friend’s weird aunt is into; the one who thinks placing quartz chunks in specific spots around her house ‘drains the negative energies’ of her neighborhood. You straighten Moon’s ruffles as you mull it over, before tugging them once more to pull his attention back to your face.

“I’d notice if you were doing that though. That whole. Pendulum thing? That’s not subtle.”

“Not the only way.” He pauses. “Don’t use it often. Only when they’re being… very naughty.” His voice edges deeper for emphasis, one arm wrapping around you to squeeze you like a plush.

“Isn’t that kind of… I dunno, dangerous?”

“Maybe. Sunny doesn’t like it.”

“Can Sun-”

Moon cuts you off with a sharp snicker. “Never tried. Says it’s cheating.”

“Because it is! I’ve been trying to just talk and soothe them but you’re like,” you pause, lowering your volume as Moon’s eyes flicker brighter, his grip tighter in warning. “I don’t know. How are you doing it, if not the uh… The trick with the bell?”

Moon cocks his head at you. His frame whirrs under you, fingers tap-tapping across your ribs before he silently brings a hand up and slowly draws the dull side of one his claws over the soft skin beneath your eye. And then - tap-taps - at your temple.

“I look,” he murmurs. “They look back. I send them off to dreamland.” His hand dances away from your face, miming sparkles with a cheerful jingling of his bells.

You frown, silently resting your face against his plating as you think.

Eye contact, then. That’d… be subtle enough. You guess it’s useful, if it’s true. You drum your fingers on him, before you flick your gaze back to his. It’s only then you notice his hands are still on your sides, his usual fidgeting and petting paused as he stares back at you, eyes shrunken down to sharp red pupils.

You’ve seen that look before. Always when Sun and Moon get… nervy. When you admit that something can’t be fixed with a screwdriver and a wet washcloth, and the specter of the place none of you mention by name hovers in the room.

You soothe your hand across the line of his chest, tweaking the bell of his hat where it sits draped over his shoulder.

“Are you supposed to tell me this, Moon?”

The single twitch of his face in answer tells you all you need to know. You exhale. Right. You’re just gonna chalk this one up in the ‘the designer is into some weird shit’ category.

“Well,” you begin, pushing a grin back onto your face. “Now you’ve said that, you’ve obviously gotta prove it.”

His optics widen back to bright seas of red in an instant. His arm squeezes you tight, fans whirring fast - before he pushes your face down against his plating.

“No.”

You squirm, smacking at his hand on your head before he finally lets you up for air with a wicked snicker. Perched on him, you reach to catch the edge of his faceplate, only for him to avoid your efforts like a stubborn cat.

“Come on Moony~ Give me some sweet, sweet dreams. Don’t you want me to shut up for a bit?”

Moon spins his face, angled away from you with another giggle, and oozes further up onto the beanbag as you paw after him - though he does pause. You can see his pupil on you at the edge of his eye before he raises a hand, tapping thoughtfully at his chin.

“Hmm. Tempting.”

“That’s right! I’ve been very naughty-” You voice edges into a poor imitation of his own, and you experience a brief moment of triumph as he trembles with repressed laughter before you both hear the sounds of fussing from the nap circle.

You’re unsure if you got too loud, but it doesn’t matter. The two of you peel yourselves apart without a word, slipping back into work mode in an instant. One fussy kid leads to another, and the two of you quickly sink into a familiar rhythm: Moon stalking close to the loudest fussers, his music box chiming away and voice low, as you help settle blankets and plushes and pillows with soothing smiles and careful hands. Sometimes you hum along with Moon’s song, nonsense words on your lips, and sometimes you reach for a misplaced plush only for Moon to press it into your hands, his claws trailing naturally up your arm as he passes by.

By the time naptime ends, the lights flickering on and Moon shifts back into Sun, who immediately whips you up into a tight, whirling hug, you’ve all but forgotten what Moon told you.

After all, he was probably joking.

#chants hypno bot hypno bot #moon x reader #moon x y/n #cw suggestive #hypno kink is in the room but we're not fully acknowledging it yet #stash writing #they're just bein goofs in this section tbh #it ate my formatting but i am just gonna live with it #just know in your heart moon talks in italics #moondrop x reader #moon fnaf

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bluemoondust · 2 years

Text

✮Day 10✮ Cockwarming

˚⭒· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ft. Aizawa Shōta/Eraserhead — BNHA

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I didn't think I would write this much just for the slow burn to the prompt, but I actually do want to make a part two of this with it actually happening, so oof. But yeah,,, this is basically a slow burn.

Summary: It was a long time coming, if Aizawa had anything to say about this whole situation.

General + Warning(s): Stalking, Drugging, Noncon Touching, Kidnapping

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Aizawa can say he's a patient man, if asked, though he will admit that on certain days that patience runs thin. He can wait for what he's looking for without complaint; all good things come to those who do as the saying goes. What he didn't anticipate is how careless you were.

Every second he glances at you, it's the same. Someone who clearly doesn't know the true nature of the world... Or perhaps you do, but you certainly can't handle it on your own. It's a pity to hear about the little things in your life. A pro hero, living alone, in constant danger to potential people who could simply overpower you if you weren't careful enough. The downside of being a known hero, whether big or small, everyone knows who you are. Your name is out there, and that's all that someone needs to track you down.

It wasn't like Aizawa was putting you down, no, you misunderstand. Well, maybe he does view you as someone who doesn't know better in some aspects. He respects your somewhat wary nature. It's obvious that you're very aware of the potential dangers of the world. He's seen it when you refuse to give personal information to anyone like the press and such or when you keep your drink extra close to yourself. He chuckles at the sight.

No, there is some endearment towards you when he puts so much regard into the life you live. It's only because he cares, is what he tells himself. So, he tests you.

Aizawa wonders if you ever catch the little hints of someone ever trailing around you or how certain things in your home are shifted. If you did, then you're good at hiding that fact. He could imagine the possible expression on your face once it clicks to you. What measures will you take to calm your paranoia? Will you keep these concerns to yourself? Fight them on your own?

If you do, he simply shakes his head as he clicks his tongue. Well, aren't you careless. It's like you're begging for someone to help you. He just wished you'd use your words more than just give silent signs.

Oh, but what does get under his skin is when you're stubborn.

Empty promises of getting better sleep or remembering to eat causes a deep frown to form on his face. You're fine, you say. Everything is good, you tell them. Bullshit. Aizawa knows perfectly well that you stayed up later than usual to either do work or impulsively entertain yourself. Even so, the dark circles under your eyes and lack of focus would have given it away if he didn't know what you were doing the other night.

You certainly do like to push, or rather, avoid confrontation. Though it does still push his buttons either way.

If no one will get through that thick skull of yours, then he will before this behavior gets destructive.

"Hm? What's this for?" Your eyes were fixated on the treat and drink Aizawa had placed before you.

He took a sip of his own drink as he let out a breath. Working late again, aren't you? It wasn't necessary, but with your slight paranoia that someone was sneaking around your home, it's probably why. Avoiding it won't do anything. You'll never escape his sight.

"You skipped lunch."

Your lips formed a straight line while your brows furrowed. You really did forget. "Ah, yeah. Hero work has been keeping me busy lately." Nodding your head, you gave a soft smile, "Thank you, Eraserhead."

The pro hero glanced over what you're working on. Mostly likely relating to the pro you were working for. A part of him was glad you didn't have your own agency. It'd make things more difficult. Plus, too much work...

"Aizawa is fine. We're not on duty."

It seemed like you just remembered that the two of you weren't at a usual work setting and just in a regular coffee shop. You clear your throat, "Ah... Yes. Thank you, Aizawa. I appreciate the kind sentiment."

He gives you a nod, acknowledging your words even if his mind was elsewhere. To be completely honest, the gesture seemed a little out of nowhere for you. Aizawa and you have talked before—more times than you expected from someone like him. You seemed him as a fellow coworker and maybe a friend. Nothing beyond that. Still... It struck you as odd that he knew you skipped lunch, but you didn't ask for several reasons. Even so, he did go out of his way to buy something for you and despite your mind wondering if he wants something from you, you accept it.

Maybe it was obvious to him? He was someone who could pick up the smallest details, so it wouldn't be a stretch that he could simply read you in a matter of seconds.

You could hear him start to speak about work. Huh. This is the most you've talked with him. You didn't peg him as someone who regularly chatted. More aloof, as you'd describe.

His voice is soothing. Holding back a yawn, you decide to take a sip of the coffee he gave you to wake you up. It seems like the exhaustion is finally catching up with you. You just couldn't let him see you like this, it'd just bring more attention to yourself. That's something you don't want. He probably has so much on his plate.

You breathed out deeply after taking another sip, well, more like a few swigs. The tension slowly left your shoulders. Your mind paused for a moment, missing something Aizawa had relating to patrolling the streets. Perhaps a break is what you need. Sleeping a full eight hours in your cozy bed seemed good.

You shut your eyes.

"Right... Just sleep."

A sharp gasp escapes you as you open your eyes; heart rate picking up. Where... Was this? You fell asleep...? No, no wait! What time—?

Aizawa gently placed his hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch and push yourself further away from him. You realize you had woken up in a bed that wasn't yours. "What's going on? Where am I?"

The amount of betrayal you felt wasn't to an extreme, but it still messed with you how someone like Aizawa would just do this. You may be reaching, but how could you not assume? Your guard was let down for just a moment and he just— took advantage. It wasn't betrayal, you suddenly corrected... It was just you feeling so stupid to let this happen. But you can't just wallow in self pity, you could still get out of this.

"You passed out from exhaustion. Even without the coffee, I still believe you would have collapsed in public." He lets out a sigh, "At least I was there before that could happen."

Why was he talking to you like everything was normal? As you further tensed up, you asked, "Aizawa... Where exactly am I?"

He figured you were heavily on guard, so he approached this gently. Any wrong move can cause you to do something reckless. Like try and bolt to the door. Aizawa made sure to keep eye contact with you as he spoke.

"You're in my home. As I said, you passed out at the coffee shop and I decided to take you in." Now comes what he'll do next. He knows your mind will start to race with many thoughts. Some might be unsavory, but eventually you'll excuse yourself to leave.

He can't let you go.

"Th-Thank you, Aizawa." You finally mustered out your appreciation, even if you still felt uneasy about the situation. You just wanted to go home. "Sorry for the inconvenience. I will take my leave."

"You can't."

His words shot through you, despite them holding no edge to them. "Wh—"

"It's dark out. You'll likely be jumped by a stranger if you go out there late at night. It'd be better to stay the night."

You frowned, "I'm fine. I can manage." You eyes looked to the ground, pondering for a second. "I can just call someone to pick me up."

Without looking up, you could just feel his stare burning into you. A part of you wanted to curl up in a ball, avoid him all together. Nothing you told yourself could reassure you nor calm down your fears at this point. You could continue to push him away, but it seemed to draw him further.

You probably knew from the moment you woke up that you weren't going to leave this place. Denial was something you always leaned towards, anyway. Continuously trying to avoid your knowledge of reality at any given point. It gave some form of escapism.

So why didn't you just give in? A thought that ran through both your minds as instinct took over, pushing yourself off the bed and towards the bedroom door. A small shard of hope may have willed you into doing this, but of course, reality had to drag you back down.

Aizawa managed to grab your ankle with his capture weapon, tripping you over. You let a small yelp as you tumbled down with a soft thud. Even so, your arms stretched out to pull your body forward. Your eyes grew heavy. What did he do to you?

"It seems like there are still some effects from the coffee... Or it's just the lack of sleep. You allowed yourself to become this exhausted to the point where you can't fight back. If you were to try and do hero work in such a state, you'd be putting yourself in danger."

He approached your body and gently picked you up. You protested, but there wasn't much effort put into it. Just as much as you could muster out. You didn't like how silent he was either as his eyes looked over you.

"I will arrange something for you when you wake up. You need to learn. I have some work to do and I can't afford to leave you to yourself." He carried you back to the bed, tucking you in as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

You weren't sure what he'd do to you, but it didn't want to think too much into you. With a kiss on your forehead, Aizawa moved himself away and towards his desk. All you could hear was his muttering before sleep washed over you.

The feeling of something tickling the nape of your neck woke you up. It'd be the second you did here. You became alert once you realized you weren't on the bed anymore as your back pressed against a firm surface. In front of you was a desktop computer, your eyes had to adjust to the sudden brightness. Aizawa's arms were on either side of your body, caging you against him as you sat comfortably (or as much as you were) on his lap. He was clicking away at the keyboard. The cherry on top was his head nonchalantly plopped onto your shoulder; the texture of his stubble scratching at your neck.

Sensing your wakefulness, he gives a nudge to your neck. "I won't be as harsh this time because you're barely adjusting. So... We'll go about this as a punishment with an opportunity for a reward. I just want you to realize why you're getting a punishment, then if you're really good and apologize, you'll be rewarded. Sound fair?"

Only after a few seconds after he finished speaking did your mind catch up to his words. You were confused and scared. "Aizawa, please... Just, let me go. I won't say anything—"

"I know you won't, darling. You kept many things to yourself. Now, you're going to confess to what you did wrong."

"What do you mean? What did I do?"

A heavy sigh escapes his lips, which causes you to shudder as his breath brushes against your neck. "Slide your bottoms off."

It felt like the world went on pause to you. The weight of his words shook you to the core as heat emitted from your face. You wished he was joking, that this was all a dream.

A light swat to your thigh brought you back to reality. "Come on. The sooner you do this, the sooner I'll get my work done and we can get to bed." Aizawa removes his hands from the desk and gets to unbuckling his belt, the sound further raising your heart rate.

With a shaky breath, you slowly reached to the band of your bottoms and underwear. If your hunch was right, this was what he wanted and it made you even more anxious. You couldn't believe you were actually doing this, but the thought of what would happen if you didn't obey honestly scared you more. You mentally kicked yourself for going so slow in sliding down your clothing. It would have been better to just slip them off immediately; rip the bandaid off and get it over with. However, you were dreading what was to come... So you figured a part of you just wanted to delay the inevitable.

As soon as those were off, the most private parts of your body now exposed, you felt him lift you up a bit as he slid his pants and boxers down. His cock was now revealed and pressing up against your lower back. You shifted on his lap, squeezing your legs together.

Aizawa proceeds to lift you up by your hips, the tip ghosting below you. "I'll be doing some work for about an hour. Just sit still on my cock until I'm done, okay? No squirming or complaining. I'll add extra time if you do. If you're good..." He slowly lowers you down, letting you feel every inch of him enter you before he kisses your cheek.

"... I'll let you cum."

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere aizawa shouta #yandere eraserhead #yandere bnha x reader #yandere mha x reader #yandere aizawa x reader #bnha smut #yandere smut #aizawa x reader #yandere bnha imagines #bnha imagines #bnha x reader

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dreamwatch · 8 months

Text

STWG daily drabble - 20/09/23

Prompt: really late

c/w 9/11 attacks - there are no specifics

(This is… a weird one. I was watching a documentary about 9/11 earlier so that’s clearly what triggered this. Also, I might have taken some liberties with that prompt… )

****

He hasn’t moved from the sofa for hours.

The images haven’t changed. He’s been watching them all day. Steve’s already turned the television off twice and tried to pull him away, but he won’t go. He doesn’t know if Steve is trying to protect Eddie or trying to protect himself.

He hears the bedroom door click, socked feet padding softly down the hall.

“It’s really, really late, Eddie. Come on.”

He looks at the clock. It doesn’t feel like there’s an early or a late right now, a morning or a night. Just never ending fear and horror played out on a tv set.

“I want you to quit.”

“What?”

Eddie turns to face him, and Steve looks exhausted. They’ve asked for volunteers, there are firefighters from across the city making the twelve hour drive tomorrow, and of course Steve volunteers. Of course he does.

“You heard me.”

They stare at each other, two thirty somethings in their pyjamas in a Mexican standoff. He’s not going to be the one to give in. Steve is so painfully tolerant of his petulant bullshit that he never has to.

Steve let’s out a sigh that carries such weight, a rolling news cycle let loose into the air in their apartment. He sits down on the couch, elbows on knees, all sluggish movements and heavy limbs. Pained. Lost.

He’s always been so strong, always Eddie’s hero.

(How handsome he looked on graduation day, the dress uniform, Eddie wearing the gloves and his hat, laughing, loving, happy. A future.)

“Eddie…”

“I don’t want you to do this.”

Another sigh.

“I won’t be gone long.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And they’re not going to do anything else -”

“You don’t know that! You can’t possibly fucking know that!”

Steve stands and grabs the remote from the coffee table, points and clicks. The horror shut out. But it’s still in the room. It’s been let loose now, like radiation, can’t see it but it’s there. They live in a time now where there was a before, a line of demarcation cut across dates.

He feels Steve’s hand tug at his.

“You’re right, I can’t know that. I don’t know when I’m coming home. I don’t know if it’s safe. So can we please just go to bed so that I can spend some time with you before I have to leave?”

They stare at each other, two thirty somethings in their pyjamas, an unspoken conversation this time. They’re scared. They’re going to be okay. They love each other.

Steve pulls him up from the couch, and they hold hands, turning the lights off behind them as they head back to their bedroom.

#Steddie #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #drabble #stwgdailyprompt #dreamy writes #cw 9/11

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thatforgottenbasilisk · 1 year

Text

just some straight up quirk bullshit

(Ao3 link)

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Prompts: Obscure Dads Week 1 Day 5 (Yoichi), Bad Things Happen Bingo (Hate Plague)

@badthingshappenbingo @daddecember

Words: 2603

Rating: T

Summary:

Izuku likes to think that he's a perfectly normal, perfectly decent person. Maybe not quite normal anymore, all things considered, but decent.

He doesn't know what he must have done, then, to be subject to this kind of nonsense so often- of course he's the one to get hit with a villain's quirk!

"Do you feel irritable or disagreeable at all? Moreso than expected or normal for you, I mean."

The paramedic asks this almost conversationally while shining a small flashlight in Izuku's eyes. He's sitting in the back of an ambulance, like he has been for the past twenty minutes, at the site of a jewelry store robbery that just happened to be near the konbini by UA. He sees Uraraka and Jirou talking to police further away, but since he was hit by the robber's quirk, he's the one who gets to be in the ambulance.

("Why is it always you?" Uraraka had asked before the ambulance got there, and he'd just shrugged. He doesn't know any better than she does.)

"No, I don't think so. Why?"

The paramedic clicks the flashlight off and replies, "They identified the quirk that you were hit with. Supposedly, it's called 'Social Tension,' and what it does is aggravate social tension in those it affects. Usually, that comes out by making the victim more argumentative than usual, but sometimes it interacts with quirks strangely, gives it a bit of a delay. You might be feeling it in a few hours, but it only lasts for a day or so. Make sure to let your friends know, or at least avoid them tomorrow, okay? We don't want you ending any friendships over this."

Izuku nods, a little nervous over the description of the quirk. "Are you sure you can't, um, hold me in the hospital or something? I'd be under a quirk effect."

The paramedic shakes her head sadly, in an understanding sort of way, while bent over a bandage she's applying to Izuku's arm. "Sorry, I wish I could say we could, but your only other injuries are a scratch or two. We can't hold you for being angry."

Izuku sighs, and says, "It was worth a shot. Is there any way of slowing it down?"

The paramedic smooths out the bandage, and straightens back up. "I'm sorry, but I don't know anything else about that quirk. I would suggest either relaxing or going to the gym, but that's my own personal advice. Not medical-professional-grade. Alright, you're all set- I believe that you still need to give a statement to the officers?"

Izuku nods, and hops down from where he was sitting. The paramedic beckons over one of the policemen, someone he hasn't met before, and he starts his account of how it all went down.

---

They had just unexpectedly run out of milk, and since it was a weekend, UA didn't have to send a teacher or someone to get more, because students could be sent on the errand instead.

He and Uraraka had volunteered, and Aizawa had sent Jirou along with them, because she "is actually responsible" and "will keep you two chaos gremlins in check."

So the three of them had gone to the konbini for some milk, and they were supposed to hurry back; however, an argument had started about whether or not they should get some of the bright Hero-themed gummies on display. Surprisingly, Uraraka had not been on his side, saying that they shouldn't waste their money when they could come back another time with a bigger budget for snacks; meanwhile, he'd spotted some All Might ones, so he was fighting tooth and nail for them. Jirou was doing the same for some Present Mic gummies.

It was when Uraraka had been very close to convincing him to put them back when Jirou had heard the burglar alarm from the jewelry store across the way.

Obviously, as Hero Course students, they had to intervene. They'd run out of the store, leaving their basket behind, and towards the jewelry store, which seemed to have been closed for the day. The robber was masked, and was rifling through drawers and had broken into a display case already.

Izuku and Uraraka had gone inside first, in order to try and get the robber to surrender peacefully, while Jirou plugged her earphone jacks into the wall to see if she could hijack the speaker system and called the police.

Then, the fight had gone down, with Uraraka flinging pieces of already-broken jewelry at high speeds while Izuku tried to physically box the robber into a corner. At one point, Jirou must have managed to get into the store's speakers, because she blasted a sudden noise that threw all three of them off-kilter; however, this was a move that she'd practiced before, so Izuku and Uraraka recovered much faster than the robber did.

The robber, when taken by surprise like that, blasted off his quirk, an unknown beam of light that managed to get Izuku right in the chest. However, after a moment, he decided he felt fine and went back to trying to finish the fight.

Then the police arrived, and quickly arrested the robber. An ambulance was called when Izuku had mentioned the quirk, and that was pretty much the end of the story.

---

The officer lets Izuku go after a few clarifying questions, and he, Uraraka, and Jirou go back to the konbini for their milk. The cashier, who'd heard and seen some of the commotion outside, allows all three of them a free pack of gummies; Izuku and Jirou smugly grab their preferred packs, and Uraraka manages to find a Thirteen-themed pack for herself.

On the walk back, the three of them bemoan how Aizawa was going to kill the three of them, considering that he'd been called when the police arrived, and Izuku remembers what the paramedic had told him about the quirk. He sullenly kicks at the sidewalk, and then relays the explanation to Uraraka and Jirou.

Jirou's response is a simple, "I forgive you preemptively," and that seems to be the end of that.

Uraraka, however, laughs and says, "Deku, the only person who's going to antagonize you is Bakugou, and he needs to be taken down a few notches."

Oh no. "B-But if Kacchan tries to start something, I don't want to yell at him or fight him or anything! We're just barely friends again, I don't want that to stop!"

Uraraka sighs, rolls her eyes, and responds, "Do you honestly think he, of all people, is the kind of guy to hold violence against you? The guy who routinely screams 'Die! Die! Die!' in training? The one we joke about having to give rabies shots to? That guy?"

"... Maybe."

"Just warn him about the quirk, and if he starts something after that, he'll know it's his own fault if he gets beat to a pulp."

Izuku shoves his face into his hands, closes his eyes, and very quietly screams. He ignores the mocking laughter from both sides.

"Midoriya, if you're really all that bothered about it, just shut yourself in your room for tonight and tomorrow. It's not like there's class tomorrow, so you can get your homework done or something."

"But I'm already two weeks ahead!" Izuku's voice still feels muffled, and he finally takes his hands off his face to look at where he's going. Uraraka's still quietly snickering to herself, while Jirou seems to be attempting to offer some actual advice.

"Then troll some hero forums or something, get all your anger out that way. As much as I would love to see you go apeshit, clearly you don't want to do that, so make a throwaway account on Reddit and get mad at all the nerds who are three centimeters off about the latest All Might action figure instead of at your friends."

"... I got banned from the All Might forum when I was eleven."

"I just said to make a throwaway."

"They banned my IP address."

"Wait- Deku, what did you do?"

Uraraka and Jirou have stopped walking and are both staring at him incredulously, while he stares up at the sky in shame. "We don't talk about the Toxic Chainsaw incident."

They glance at each other before blinking over at him. There's silence, for a minute, before Jirou tentatively offers, "UA's IP is different from the one at your house?"

Izuku exhales forcefully, thinks it over, and eventually says, "If I get UA banned from the All Might forum then I will never live it down. Also Nedzu might kill me."

"They'll think you're stealing UA's Wi-Fi if they actually ban your IP," Uraraka chimes in.

"Then Nedzu will still find out. And kill me. Or expel me."

Jirou raises an eyebrow, and notes, "Odd emphasis on that last one."

"Expulsion might be worse than death in this particular circumstance."

Jirou bursts out in cackles, while Uraraka giggles out a "Don't ever change, Deku!"

The three of them ping ideas for blowing off steam, but they all get shot down by one of the others; by time they get to UA, Izuku's too busy giggling at Uraraka's latest suggestion to be all that worried about the quirk taking effect in the next few hours, or even tomorrow.

---

Izuku's been holed up in his room for a few hours, now, and he doesn't feel any different. He'd tried getting into Internet arguments, but everyone was being so purposefully bad-faith about everything that he'd had to stop. He got another week ahead on his homework, and then ran out of homework to do. He ate the snacks he keeps in his desk, but he was already running low and the stale bag of prepackaged popcorn has only made him hungrier.

He knows that right about now is the prime time for dinner, and that other people will be downstairs if he goes; however, he's also pretty sure that Uraraka and Jirou spread the news about the quirk, even if Aizawa didn't. So if someone tries something and the quirk decides to suddenly rear its head, that won't really be too much of his fault, and he can always apologize on Monday.

With this decided, he goes downstairs for dinner.

It's actually not bad, when he goes. Kacchan's on cooking duty tonight, so he's too busy yelling at the others with kitchen duty like a drill sergeant on steroids to really care about what Izuku does; there's two portions of Kacchan's extra spicy curry on the side, and since they're smaller than the bigger batch, they're already done and being kept on the backburner of the stove to keep warm. Izuku dodges around Kirishima and Ojiro as they frantically chop more vegetables, and grabs a bowl from the cabinet for his share of the extra spicy curry.

Kacchan always makes two portions of it, even though he only ever eats one, because he knows that Izuku is just as much of a spice hound as he is, though of course he'd never admit it. Even so, he doesn't rag on Izuku like he usually would for "stealing his food," so he must be feeling considerate.

Nobody avoids him while he eats, but no one talks to him, either. He has to remind himself that the quirk might rear its head at any minute, so this is the best outcome for everyone, but it still hurts. Just a bit.

So he's quick about his meal, and hurries upstairs when he's done. It's just getting dark, but he figures he may as well go to bed now- in all likelihood, it'll all be worse tomorrow.

---

"Fuck the entire way off, Daigoro!"

"Absolutely not, you son of a bitch! You knew I didn't want the damn- !"

"Will both of you shut it? Nobody wants to hear your decades-old argument rehashed again! It's done! It's over! Hikage apologized a thousand times while he was alive, if his memories are right, so there's no need for you to be pulling this shit up in front of Ninth!"

"Oh, like you wanted the quirk, either, Nana! En foisted it on you- "

"Do not bring me into this- "

Izuku watches the vestiges fight over the past with a viciousness he hasn't seen before. The First, Yoichi, watches silently with vague concern, and not-quite-All Might is silent as always. Second and Third are silent as well, though they flank Yoichi and show nothing on their faces. Is this because of the quirk he was hit by, he wonders? Instead of affecting him, it went for the vestiges? That would make sense, considering how he was told it has weird interactions with quirks sometimes, and One for All is as weird a quirk as they come.

"And about Ninth! What kind of successor is he, breaks himself over and over trying to use the quirk? None of us had near the amount of issues he does!"

... Of course, more confirmation that he's not the Ninth that they wanted. It always circles back to that, the inevitable truth that he's too weak for it, not good enough, doesn't even have a quirk to offer it. No hope of killing All for One. No hope of beating Shigaraki. No hope of doing anything useful with it.

"None of us had near the stockpiled strength he has, either! Eighth poured power into this quirk for decades, and you expect a teenager to use it without issue? The poor boy's never even had a quirk before! As far as I'm concerned, he's doing perfectly fine!"

Yoichi finally steps into the argument, physically moving over towards Izuku, as though to protect him from the others. His voice, though naturally very quiet, is raised enough that it cuts through the others' arguments.

He sighs, though Izuku doesn't think he needs to in this place, and turns towards Izuku. In his more normal tone, he says, "Don't mind them, Ninth. They've been up in arms all day, of course they were bound to drag you into it."

Izuku tries to say something about the quirk he was hit with, because of course that must be why the vestiges have been like this- especially considering the timing of it, it must have exacerbated the 'social tension' between all the vestiges. Unfortunately, he still doesn't have any way of communicating in here, and it seems that the vestiges aren't aware of what happened earlier.

Yoichi must see something on his face, because he continues, "Don't worry about it. They get like this sometimes, it never actually leads to anything. They're all bitter in their own ways. It'll pass, it always does."

Izuku would huff in frustration if he could, but as it stands, he still can't do anything like that in this plane of One for All. At least he knows that the quirk won't have any permanent effects- if they've gotten like this before, like Yoichi says, then nobody's going to be holding any grudges when it wears off.

The argument seems to have started up again while Yoichi stopped paying attention to it, but instead of intervening again, Yoichi only sighs. He seems exhausted, for a moment, before returning to his usual appearance and saying, "May as well go ahead and wake up, Ninth. It's not like you'll be getting much rest if you stay here."

---

Izuku wakes up slowly, and nearly falls right back to sleep before he figures he may as well check the time. He rolls over, and sees that his alarm reads a little after 1 in the morning, so there's enough time to sleep and get a half-decent amount of rest if he doesn't end up in One for All again.

He doesn't think he will. He's barely half-awake at best, though, so maybe his predictions aren't the best, but he feels warm and comfortable enough that he doesn't really care one way or the other.

#dad-ect-events #Obscure-DadsWeek1 #bad things happen bingo #my writing #mha fic #mha

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jinx-jade · 2 years

Text

Learning what it means to heal: chapter 1

"So, you're looking for a what… a cure? For the madness caused by the Lazarus pit?" Constantine asked as he took another drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke out with a slight hiss of breath.

"If you can't help then just say that. Quit wasting our time." Jason growled, eyes flaring into sharp shades of green once more, in a show of anger and irritation.

Cassandra laid a hand on Jason's forearm, drawing his attention away from the mage that had triggered his anger. It did nothing to calm the madness, only redirect it to a target he wouldn’t harm with anything but words, and if the madness did turn into physical violence, then a target that could also defend herself without causing him too much harm.

"Never said I couldn't help." The magic-user informed them with a raised brow, extinguishing the last of his cigarette- burning embers falling cold as he discarded it into an ashtray.

Dick glanced over to his little sister who gave a half nod, half-shrug. He returned the nod before turning his attention back to the magic-user in front of them.

"So how do we get rid of the Lazarus pits' side effects?" The eldest of the Wayne siblings asked, only to receive a chuckle in response.

"Never said I could help, either." Constantine's snarky response came as he grabbed a bottle and glass over the counter of the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

"Constantine," Bruce said in a sharp tone, a clear warning to the mage who raised his hands as if to surrender.

"You're gonna want to talk to the Court's Snake." He informed them, lowering his hands as he leaned against the bar top, grabbing his glass, he took a sip of the amber liquid.

"The what now?" Stephanie questioned from where she had been leaning against the wall.

Constantine held up a finger, a silent, 'one moment' as he threw his head back, finishing off his glass, before setting it back down onto the counter.

"The Court's Snake," Constantine repeated as if that would explain everything. When the bats showed no sign of recognition, he let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Court of Miracles? Wielders of the Miraculi, magic artifacts that serve to tether literal gods to this plane? The kids you guys left in charge of Paris for a three-year-long war?" The mage reminded them, causing the Justice League members present to cringe, having recognized the brief explanation of the meta heroes once they were given more content than just a 'court'.

"Ah, so you do remember them." Constantine chuckled as he poured himself another glass of whiskey.

"What does their snake have to do with anything?" Dick asked with furrowed brows. "He was a temporary hero that they retired as soon as they could."

"The Snake has the God of intuition as his companion, the kid's name is L… L something." He shrugged. "He's a smart kid, but I'm sure you can find him easily with that computer of yours." The mage informed them, picking up his glass, only to startle as a bullet shattered the glass he had been holding.

Everyone present looked over to where the bullet had been shot from, revealing a very pissed-off Jason, gun still in hand, but now pointed at the ground where Cassandra had lowered it.

"That was rude." The mage claimed with a bored expression.

"Are you gonna help or are you gonna continue with your bullshit runaround answers," Jason growled, glaring toxic green eyes at the magic-user, who ignored the silent threat in favor of turning back to the bar and grabbing another glass, placing it on the counter.

"I gave you as much of an answer as any other mage could give. Talk to the Court's Snake if you want to find a way to be healed. Even if he, himself, can't heal you, the snake will know who can." Constantine informed them as he poured his glass of whiskey once again, raising a brow towards Jason, who still had a gun in hand, but with the safety now clicked back in place.

"Thank you, Constantine," Bruce said with a sigh, ushering his kids towards the door they had entered through.

Once they stepped through the door they appeared back into Bruce's home office, as if they had just entered through that doorway instead of leaving through the bar doorway.

Jason dropped the gun he had been holding onto one of the coffee tables before storming out of the office. The office door closed harshly behind him as those that were left in the office looked at each other in silent communication.

"I'll go talk to Babs about finding a snake," Stephanie said with a raise of her hand, receiving a nod from Cassandra, who followed her out of the office. Leaving the eldest child with their adopted father.

Bruce let out a sigh as he walked over to his desk, sitting tiredly on the chair, leaning back as he dragged his hands down his face.

"I mean, at least we got a lead?" Dick prompted, completely ignoring the chairs in front of the desk he could sit on in favor of sitting on the desk itself.

"A lead to an unstable group of meta heroes that do whatever they please with no order or reason." Bruce countered, raising a brow as if to reprimand his son for sitting on the desk instead of a chair.

"But it's a lead, nonetheless. Besides, Wonder Woman backs them, so does Aquaman, and all of our magic users if I remember correctly." Dick reminded him, ignoring the pointed look, and the raised eyebrow in favor of checking his phone that was buzzing with incoming messages. Bruce sighed tiredly as he picked up his own buzzing phone.

They looked over the texts curiously, seeing that they were from Barbara.

"That was quick," Bruce said as he reread the messages, noting the location before sending back a response.

"She's Babs, what do you expect?" Dick huffed in amusement, jumping off the desk as he began making his way to the door. "Besides, I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say we'd do anything to help each other. That's what families are for right?"

Bruce hummed in agreement as his eldest son left the room, presumably to either help the girls in their search for information or to find Jason and help him calm down.

With another tired sigh, something that had quickly become a constantly recurring sound within the Wayne household, Bruce opened up the family calendar and began to draft a rearranged version to accommodate a trip to Paris. He then sent the rough draft schedule to Alfred to be approved or rearranged as the family butler and pseudo-Grandfather saw fit.

By the end of the week, the Wayne family was in Paris to supposedly check in on their European branches as well as attend a gala the following week in the city of lights. The first three days were spent checking in on the W.E. branches, making public appearances to create the illusion of a normal family work trip abroad, and planning how they should go about talking to the former snake wielder.

“So… who’s going to meet the former snake, Luka Couffaine?” Tim asked, typing away at something on his laptop from where he had decided to set up his workspace, on top of the coffee table in the center of the living room.

“Great question- little wing?” Dick prompted, looking away from Tim and over towards Jason, who only looked up briefly, shrugging in response before going back to reading his book, one of his favorites that he had brought from home.

“We came here to find a way to help you.” Damian tisked, “You could at least try to do something productive instead of wasting our time.”

Jason slammed his book shut, not bothering to even look in Damian’s direction as he stood up from his spot on the couch, dropping the book onto his now abandoned seat.

“Fuck you demon brat- I’m going out,” Jason grumbled after a few steady breaths, he made his way towards the door, leaving the room with the soft swoosh and click of a door being opened and closed.

“Not helpful, Dames.” Stephanie groaned, gesturing towards the door that Jason had just left through. The youngest of the Wayne children blinked a few times, scowling at the door as if it had offended him.

Bruce walked into their penthouse, looking from the door to the rest of his children for an answer to his silent question.

“Damian couldn’t keep his mouth shut,” Tim answered, looking just over the edge of his computer screen before going back to work on whatever it was, he was working on.

Damian huffed, crossing his arms, fingers twitching in a tell-tale sign of wanting to grab one of his blades. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, patting Damian on the head before gesturing towards the door with a raised brow.

“Who is he not currently mad at?” Bruce questioned, glancing from one child to the next.

"Me, Duke, and Cass," Dick answered as he got ready to go follow Jason.

"Nah- he's mad at you by default association." Tim pointed out.

"What did I do?" Dick asked in confusion.

"You a) bothered him while he was trying to read, and b) didn't tell Damian off for being a gremlin," Tim explained as if it was obvious.

“Uh, but Cass and I are probably fine, right?” Duke asked, awkwardly raising his hand as Cassandra gave a nod of her head.

“We have a dinner to attend at six with one of W.E. 's partners, Picture Purrfect’s CEO, at Agreste Manor.” Bruce reminded them, as the two exchanged looks before getting up and leaving the penthouse. The door closed lightly behind them.

“How far do you think he’s gotten?” Duke asked, stepping into the stairwell, shooting his grappling hook to the top through the hole in the center, holding onto the railing as he looked over at his older sister.

Cassandra shrugged, lifting a hand, and tilting it from side to side, before grabbing her own grappling hook and doing the same.

“Fair enough.” Duke agreed with a shrug, jumping up, over the railing, and down the center of the stairwell, Cassandra being quick to do the same, following her little brother down to ground level.

Releasing their grapples once their feet were planted firmly on the concrete flooring, Cassandra nodded her head in the direction of the exit sign above the door that led to the outside, ignoring the door that led them back into the building based on where Jason would go. The two siblings left the building, cloaking in light refraction that rendered them invisible to the normal human eye, they began their search, pulling Jason's tracker on Duke's phone to lead them to their destination.

"Geez, he made good time," Duke said as he pointed out the red dot signaling Jason's location that was halfway across the city.

They made their way up a fire escape and began running from rooftop to rooftop. Cassandra gives him a strange look when she sees how far away Jason had made it in the time it had taken them to leave the penthouse. She shook her head in a slow deliberate motion, gesturing down at the device.

"Uh- doesn't make sense- or the device is wrong?" Duke guessed, having been the newest of the strays that their adoptive father had taken in, he was still getting used to what means what from the silent bat.

Cassandra shrugged, holding up a one, then a two, then a one, and another two, tilting her head from side to side as if to say either worked.

"Check the location first to see if it's right, then ask Babs to take a look if it's wrong?" Duke proposed, landing from a somersault into a running crouch as he glanced to his side to see his sister's answer. Cassandra gave a sharp nod of her head before gesturing for them to continue.

____________________

Jason left the penthouse as fast as he could, uncaring whether he caused a scene, trying to keep the whispers of the madness under control as he rushed out of the building so as to not hurt anyone that doesn't, entirely, deserve it. He turned into an alleyway, ignoring the whispers from the madness of run-hurt-kill-hurt-run as he walked through the alleyway. Each and every step he took echoed along the pavement as he made it to the other side of the alleyway.

Except it wasn’t the other side of an alleyway. It was a library, bookcases lining every wall from floor to ceiling, with ladders leaning against the shelves, set at different heights for easy access to the difficult-to-reach books.

"Huh. That's new." A voice hummed, different from the harsh whispering madness. It was soft and luring in a way the slimy voices of madness had never been before.

"Hello?" The new voice greeted in a questioning tone, drawing his attention to a person in front of him. A real person, not just a voice created by the madness.

"How did you get here?" The person questioned. Bright blue eyes staring into his burning acid green.

"I just… walked down the alleyway… and then I was here," Jason explained hesitantly, in a slight trance from the way the person’s almost glowing blue eyes examined him. A clear show of skepticism from the person as they narrowed their eyes at him.

“Are you sure?” The person asked, head tilted to the side curiously.

“I don’t know how I got here any more than you do,” Jason explained, barely holding back the snarl that threatened to escape as he crossed his arms over his chest, the person only humming in response, circling him as they examined him again.

“Where’s your keeper?” The person asked once they reached the point in their circle where they were once again, in front of Jason.

“The Fuck do I need a keeper for? I’m a grown-ass adult.” Jason snarled, eyes glaring at them with shades of swirling greens as the madness made another attempt to fully take over, only just being held back by his determination not to give in.

The person narrowed their eyes at him again, bringing their hand up to their mouth, biting down on the skin at the edge of their fingertip. They grabbed Jason’s wrist, bringing it closer to their index finger, swiping patterns onto the inner part of his wrist with warm red liquid before he could respond or pull away. He would have probably let out the snarl he had been holding back but he was only able to let out a shaky breath as he realized that everything had gone quiet. The whispers dissipated into thin air, as if they had never existed, to begin with.

“...what did you do?” he asked in a hushed voice, filled with cracks from the tears forming in the corner of his eyes. As if speaking too loudly would undo whatever it was the person had done, his arms fell to his sides limply.

“Soul tethering. It’s a helpful skill for keepers to know in case their charges lean-to close to the line of being a reaper.” The person explains, holding Jason’s wrist up for him to see. “Although, if I had to guess, I would say you are a reaper. Which is concerning since you don’t seem to have a keeper.”

Jason stared at her for a few moments, letting the clean air enter his lungs as his mind stayed silent. He closed his eyes, letting himself just be in the moment of calm, not caring about the how or why just yet. Enjoying the knowledge that the madness was gone, even if just for a moment.

He opened his eyes when he felt a light poke in his chest, pushing the tears that had formed back so they wouldn’t fall.

“You, okay?” The person asked, eyes wide and lips pressed together in a firm line.

“Yeah- but, just one question,” Jason said in the same quiet voice as before, minus the voice cracking that he had gotten under control along with his tears.

The person only hummed, not agreeing to answer any questions, but not outright saying they wouldn’t

“What are you talking about?” Jason questioned. The person blinked in response, lips pursed, eyes still held wide open, or maybe they just had naturally wide doe-like eyes. “I just- soul tethering? That’s a magic thing, right?”

A nod, but no vocal answer.

“What about Phantoms, Reapers, and keepers? The first two have to do with the dead, souls, and ghosts, but I’m not sure how keepers fit into that or what they are.” Jason murmured, running a hand through his hair, drawing his attention back to the symbol the person had scribbled onto his wrist. It was red with flecks of yellow, closer to a shade of gold and rubies, or perhaps the color of a flickering flame, fiery reds with bright yellows appearing in the light.

Jason turned his head back away from his wrist to face them.

“You-… don’t know what you are-… do you?” The person asked slowly, staring at Jason as if he was a puzzle of some sort. A mystery that needed to be solved. An unknown that needed to be discovered.

“You say that like I’m not human.” Jason chuckled, only to be met by the sight of them worrying their lips with furrowed brows.

“Come on.” and a roll of the eyes was their response, ignoring his implied question in favor of leading him deeper into the library.

“Where are we going?” Jason asked, following the lure of bright sapphire eyes through the maze of bookshelves.

They stopped in front of a desk that was tucked away in a corner, cozy, and safe, out of view from the rest of the library. The person snatched up a journal from one of the desk drawers and held it out for him to take. However, when he attempted to grab the journal, the person pulled it out of reach, holding it tightly to their chest.

“It’s a book on phantoms. From what they are to what they can do. Just the bare basics.” They informed him, holding the book out for him to grab, and once again, the journal was pulled out of reach when he attempted to take it.

“What are you going to give me for this?” They asked, holding the journal up between their thumb, index, and middle fingers.

“Seriously?” he groaned, making another attempt to grab the journal. The person easily side-steps out of his reach with a twirl as if they were the air itself.

“I’m guessing you love to read and learn.” They claimed, eyes scanning over him once more as they circled him again. This time Jason turned with them, keeping an eye on their every movement.

“Yeah, so what?” Jason scoffed, leaning back to sit on the edge of the desk.

They responded by lightly shaking the book in their hands.

“While you are currently a reaper and not a Phantom, that doesn’t erase your Phantom traits.” They explained, crossing their arms lightly over their chest. The journal was safely tucked between their arms.

Jason growled. “You can just claim I’m not human and then dangle a book with an explanation of what I supposedly am in front of me. It’s rude as hell.”

The person blinked; head tilted to the side. “Huh, guess the tether is wearing out.” They mused and extended a hand expectantly towards him.

“What?" He questioned, while the person just made a grabbing motion towards his wrist. "...god dammit, you’re talking about the mark keeping the Lazarus out.” He cursed, bringing his wrist into view. The marks had faded, and the gem-like sheen it once had was replaced with the dull, copper of dried blood.

They snatched his wrist once more, examining it. “Soul tethers are supposed to last longer than that.” They said more to themselves than him. “Perhaps it’s the- Lazarus? You called it. That wore it down faster than it was supposed to.”

“Fuck if I know- can you just fix it?” he asked, a desperate tone weaving through his voice.

“Do you want me to fix the temporary thing, or do you want this journal?” They asked, in a voice that sounded soft and filled with pure curiosity, no hidden malice or meaning, simply curious to know what he would choose.

“I thought I had to give you something for the book.” He snarked, the sharp ringing of whispers seeping back into the air around him.

“You did!” The person cheered. “I have a new topic to research! It’s especially interesting since the Lazarus thing wore through an hour-long soul tether in half that time!”

Jason stared at them incredulously. “I’ve been here for half an hour? What- where the hell is here?” he asked, looking around the library as if it held some type of clue to show him where he had ended up.

The person only smiled at him, placing a finger over their lips in the universe sign for ‘quiet' and ‘secret’, as if to tease him with the unknown information.

“Jason! Geez, how did you get here so fast?” Duke questioned, jogging up to his side, Cassandra right beside him with worried brows.

“Wha?” He looked around once more only to be met with the sight of completely different bookcases that no longer ran from floor to ceiling, stopping two-thirds of the way up the wall instead.

“You okay, Jay?” The newest Wayne addition asked in concern, slowing down his movements in a way that deliberately made it so Jason could see that they weren’t a threat. He hated that it was a trained procedure that all of the Wayne family had when approaching him, even the newest adopted kid.

“I’m fine,” he barked a touch too harshly, wincing as the madness made another grab for full control, returning with a vengeful force.

He spotted a leather-bound journal sitting on an almost completely empty shelf to his left. The same journal that the person had agreed to trade with him. Pushing past his siblings, Jason snagged the book, and the book under it to conceal his movement from his older sister, slipping the leather-bound journal into the hidden compartment in his jacket with the ease of a former street kid who had to steal to survive, and kept the other book in his hand.

“Let’s go.” He huffed, looking over the other book only to be pleasantly surprised to find the book, ‘Moral Alignment of the Heart’, a book he had been meaning to read for a while but never had the time to.

“Sure.” Duke agreed, walking up on his left, Cassandra moving to be on his right, grabbing the hand that was unoccupied by a book, and began playing with his fingers in a soothing motion that also served as a distraction.

"Find any good books?" His little brother asked curiously, seemingly ignoring the book in his hold in favor of trying for a vocal answer.

"Haven't had time to read this one," Jason said in place of an answer, holding up the book Duke had previously been ignoring.

"Huh- that's a pretty old copy. Are you sure you want to buy it at a used bookstore? It could be damaged in some way that makes it so you can read it." Duke said, pointing out the few visible blemishes the cover had that highlighted the age of the book, but Jason just shrugged, walking up to the checkout desk.

After a quick interaction with the salesperson that Duke handled, they walked out of the store and opted to stop at an ice cream shop after some gentle persuasion from the Wayne Boys' older sister.

"Cass- we have a fancy dinner to attend in-" Duke pulled out his phone to check the time, "an hour and a half. We don't need to stop for Ice cream." He reminded her as they stepped into the ice cream parlor.

Cassandra pursed her lips, staring at her little brother with pleading kitten eyes as they walked over to the Ice cream display case.

"White chocolate cherry?" Jason asked, looking from his sister to all the assorted flavors in the display case. Cassandra nodded her head as she bounced on the balls of her feet, tugging lightly on the sleeve of his jacket.

"What?" He huffed, looking down at his older sister who pointed to another flavor of ice cream.

"One," Jason said sternly, narrowing his eyes as Cassandra pouted, releasing the sleeve of his jacket to cross her arms with a sharp puff of air as she pointed to the one, she wanted.

“What can I get for you today?” The employee asks with the normal customer service tone of voice that grates on Jason’s nerves.

“A Cotton candy cone, a dark chocolate raspberry cup, and whatever he gets,” Jason ordered, gesturing towards his little brother, who let out a sigh, resigning to the fate of a spoiled dinner.

“A rocky road cup, please,” Duke ordered, pulling out his wallet, only for Jason to beat him to it with a raised brow, making a show of holding up the book he had bought for earlier Jason.

The employee ran the card as a different employee handed them their orders.

“Have a wonderful day. Come back soon.” The employee called out as they left the shop.

“So-... we gonna stop and eat somewhere, head back to the penthouse, or are we gonna start walking towards Agreste manor?” Duke asked, walking backward so that he could face them while speaking.

Jason scrunched up his nose in annoyance.

“Is dinner mandatory?” he asked, receiving a poke in the side from Cassandra.

"Uh- I don't actually know? Want me to ask B for ya?" Duke proposed with a shrug, receiving a shake of the head from Jason.

"How far away is the dinner place?" he asked, scraping the paper cup for the last of his ice cream.

"...a fifteen-minute walk?" Duke answered hesitantly, looking to Cassandra for confirmation, who gave it in the form of a thumbs-up, munching on the cone of her sweet treat.

"K, bye," Jason said, throwing his cup and spoon away as he walked away from them.

Duke blinked looking between both of his older siblings as if trying to figure out what to do. Cassandra shrugged, pulling out her phone and opening it to the family trackers that they had originally used to find Jason, and tilted the screen for Duke to be able to see it.

“Why do I have a feeling that we won’t be seeing him at the dinner?” Duke asked with a chuckle, causing Cassandra to huff in amusement.

“Ugh- you’re gonna make me be the one to tell B, aren’t you?” he groaned as his older sister smirked before breaking into a sprint down the sidewalk.

“Hey! Get back here!”

____________________

Jason ducked into another alleyway, this time paying extra attention to his surroundings as he made his way over to the fire escape and began to climb it. As interesting as that library had been, he would rather not go back there right away, needing some time to process what exactly had happened.

He pulled open the window of his safe house and climbed through, flicking the lights on as he passed by the switches. Stripping off his jacket, he settled into the armchair that sat next to the couch, in front of the tv and grabbed the leather-bound journal from the hidden pocket.

The book itself didn’t seem to be different from any other leather journal. A smooth waxy, yet soft finish, with a small buckle clasping the pages shut. Nothing stood out about the book, but the person who gave it to him. Well, gave it to him being a loose term since they had claimed to need a trade for the book. A trade that could apparently be a new topic to research.

Jason bristled at the thought of the person he had met in the strange library getting caught up in anything to do with the league of assassins just because he had carelessly mentioned the word, Lazarus. And as strange as that encounter was, one that he would have thought to be a hallucination from the madness in another attempt to take control if he wasn’t holding proof of the encounter, the leather-bound journal they had traded him for the knowledge of something new and unusual to them, a part of him yearned to return to the cove of books that ran from floor to ceiling, surrounding them in knowledge, that perhaps he already know, or perhaps he did not.

He opened the journal and, undoing the buckle with a slight hiss as the prong sliced through the surface of his palm with an unexpected sharp edge. He glanced at the rather shallow cut as his blood slowly began to pool in the center of his palm. Cupping his hand around the air above the journal to keep the blood from spilling, he opted to temporarily ignore the cut in favor of looking over the first page of the journal that he had already opened too. A blank page stared at him, mocking him silently with the knowledge that now revealed itself as much more difficult to obtain. Knowledge, that for all he knew never existed, to begin with. Flipping the page revealed blank page after blank page, a completely blank book from front to back.

He stood up from the armchair with a snarl, letting the useless, blank book hit the floor without caring about what damage would befall it. He moved to the bathroom, hand still cupped around the pool of blood as he dug through the cabinet, pulling out the first aid kit he cleaned and bandaged the wound before returning to the armchair with the copy of ‘Moral Alignment of the Heart’ that he had picked up from the bookstore earlier.

Time moved on at an unknown rate as he was absorbed into the world of fiction, which despite the title, was not in fact a romance book, but a book about unpredictable events that lead to questionable choices. Those choices break and build the characters as the story continues, revealing the true colors of those who they called friends, family, or foes. None of the characters were as they seemed to behave at the start of the book, and by the time Jason got through the seventh chapter, none of the characters, and by extent, the reader, knew who to trust.

The quiet buzz of a phone ringing pulled Jason out of the world of fiction with a frustrated huff of breath. He looked around for a moment before spotting his jacket on the floor, probably having been knocked off the chair when he had stood up to bandage his hand. Leaning over the armrest, Jason picked the jacket up off the floor, revealing the discarded journal beneath it.

Except, the pages were no longer blank.

Crimson red ink was now scattered about the page as random areas had drawings and writing that faded into existence. A few small splatters of blood that had stained the pages spread out slowly, creating a thinly woven web as it went. Somehow creating more of the ruby red pigmentation without the need for more blood to be split, running its path until the book looked to have red painted edges instead of the previously plain ones or the usual gold that could be found on some books as a decretive detail.

“What the hell?” Jason whispered under his breath to no one in particular, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a random flat paper that had been sitting uncomfortably through the fabric of the pocket lining and used it as a bookmark for the page he had been on.

Another buzz from his phone rang out as Jason picked up the journal and began to flip through it. This time the pages were full of handwritten text and sketches. He sat up straight in the armchair as he read each page, letting his phone ring out for the third time. Paragraph after paragraph, he examined the new information about the beings known as Phantoms. Their habits, traits, skills, and more, were all listed neatly within the journal. The part that caught his eye, in particular, was the small ‘chapter’ on Reapers.

His phone rang again. This time he pulled it out of his jacket pocket, checking to see who it was even though he already knew it was one of his siblings. He had three missed calls already, two from Dick, one from Bruce, and an incoming call from Tim. A harsh scoff left his mouth, and he pressed the decline button and continued reading.

The person from the library had called him a Reaper. Or more accurately, they had thought him to be a Phantom only to decide he was a Reaper instead, and this book explains why. Of course, it came back to the source of his misery and madness.

Reapers, as it turned out, was the title given to those whose souls had spiraled out of control. All of their raw power locked itself up in a last-ditch preservation act as their actions became increasingly chaotic, unpredictable, and violent. They were most commonly Phantoms who have lost or never had a Keeper to bring them back to balance. Although, there are a few passages of text explaining that outside energies can corrupt a soul. The book went as far as to list the energies to stay away from, most noticeably, energies like creative destruction magic, and destructive creation magic.

Those two were types of magic he had become familiar with through his family's research. They were the same type of energies that the Lazarus pits had been made from.

The book explained how Reapers can be brought back into balance but that the process used varied based on what caused the soul corruption to begin with. However, none of the processes were explained any farther than listing their names.

“Great. The fuck do I do with that?” Jason growled in frustration as he flipped through looking for any explanations on how to get rid of the madness. Even just a definition for the strangely named processes would be considered a win at this point, but there was nothing.

The luring voice of the blue-eyed stranger echoed in his mind as he realized what they had told him. ‘Just the bare basics’, they had said, the implication that they knew more hung in the air. How does someone know that this was only the basics if they didn’t know there was more to it, to begin with? Did they have more books with actual explanations? The questions ran through his mind until a sharp tapping noise broke him from his train of thought.

A quick glance towards the window revealed a familiar back and blue figure, hand poised as if to knock again.

Jason ignored his older brother, looking back down to his lap where the journal sat open to the page about Keepers. A detailed passage on how Phantoms traveled in groups, and pairs, but never alone, lest they risk becoming a Reaper. Phantoms that travel in twos only are known as safeguards. One is the keeper for the other and vice versa. Both safeguards hold the titles of keeper and charge.

"You okay little wing?" Dick questioned as he stepped through the window.

"Fine." Came Jason's quiet response as he turned the page, not bothering to look up.

The title keeper was given to someone that a Phantom views as their other half, platonically, romantically, or blood-related. So long as they are a Phantom and your soul considers them their other half, they can hold the title of keeper.

"You sure? Cause the window was left unlocked." Dick pointed out as he stood next to the armchair Jason was reading in.

"I said I was fine," Jason replied sharply, glaring at his older brother as he finally looked away from the leather-bound journal.

Dick held up his hands in mock surrender, waiting for his younger brother to either lash out or settle down.

"Have you eaten yet?" The blue and black vigilante questioned gently, holding up a to-go bag that Jason had not noticed earlier.

"...No," Jason murmured, looking back down at the book in his lap.

"Come on. The others are almost done with the dinner pleasantries, so we'll be heading over to see snake boy in a bit." The older explained as he set the food down on the kitchen island and pulled up a stool, gesturing for the younger to come and sit down.

Jason groaned as he carefully closed the journal, replacing the buckle and setting it aside before getting up and walking over to the bar stool. They sat in silence for a long while as Jason ate, content to leave any tension in the air well enough alone.

“How’d you get out of dinner?” Jason asked, taking another bite as he waited for an answer.

“My little brother caught one of those twenty-four-hour colds, so I just had to leave early to check on him,” Dick explained with all the dramatics of a former circus performer, causing Jason to scoff.

“So, you used me as a scapegoat for leaving early.” He questioned, glaring at his older brother.

“I'll have you know I would never!” The drama queen gasped in offense, placing a hand over his heart in a shocking movement.

“Wanna bet?” Jason asked with a raised brow, nodding over to the window where another bat had appeared at the safe house.

Dick only shrugged.

“I brought you dinner, didn’t I?” He laughed as Jason got up, throwing the empty takeout boxes away.

“It’s open dumbass,” Jason called out to the lurking bat, walking into one of the bedrooms that were used as more of a storage room.

When Jason returned to the main room in his Red-Hood gear, he saw Tim and Dick exchange a few looks in silent conversation. Ignoring the flare of anger that the madness created with the knowledge of being left out on something, he walked past them, grabbing the journal and stashing it away in a hidden pocket so he at least had some helpful information to read over if this Court Snake doesn’t work out.

“We going or what?” He snarked, gesturing toward the window Tim had left wide open.

“Yeah, we’re going.” Dick agreed, following him out, Tim following behind the eldest.

They checked the location of the established meetup point and then began to make their way there. Staying in the shadows, out of sight of any civilians that might still be awake in the early evening.

“Huh- wasn’t expecting you guys for another half hour.” A man with bright blue highlights claimed, putting his guitar away in favor of welcoming aboard the houseboat.

“Come on in.” The man, Luka Couffaine, motioned for them to enter the captain's quarters. “There are never many people at this dock, but that doesn’t mean no one will walk past here, better safe than sorry,” he explained, disappearing below deck.

While that explanation, logically made scenes. They still waited for Barbara to give them the all-clear to head below deck.

“So, what did you guys need?” The former Snake questioned, taking a backward seat in the desk chair, gesturing for them to sit where they pleased.

“What do you know about the Lazarus pits?” Batman asked in more of a demanding tone than a questioning one.

“Mmhh- Lazarus pits... Lazarus pit... laz- Oh! The destructive creation magical artifact that the Shadows have?” Luka guesses with a snap of his fingers.

“Yes, that. What do you know about it?” Batman asked again.

“Just that- but I know someone that could tell you more,” Luka informed them with a shrug, turning around to the desk, he opened one of the drawers, and pulled out a small, rectangular piece of paper with writing they couldn’t read in red ink.

He ripped the paper in half, causing their vision to blur and the room to spin. Then, suddenly, they were in a library of some sort.

“Hello.” A person with blue eyes and a luring voice greeted, raising a brow with a pointed look in Jason’s direction that no one else seemed to notice. “What can I help you with?”

#marinette x jason #mgimixer

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audreyhalessaviour · 6 months

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A little while ago me and somebody else where chatting about when my obsession will end. Well I took a shower not long after and even if I gave spur of the moment answers to him at that time the simple answer is probably won't end until I get closure because I have always worked in this way. It's so hard for me because I have always struggled with this in my life. For a story... a person... no an event with a person involved like this is hell on me. With the controversy surrounding the manifesto and things like this I fear that it will never happen... and my biggest fear is that I could get everything and still feel unsatisfied. I research pictures and create art because it gives me some small semblance of that satisfaction. I feel as if my blog has gone off the rails because it's supposed to be a way for me to document Audrey and myself. I need to make more art and the like but I am a shitty researcher. I did find many original versions of pictures and videos on AHMs blog. Which where relatively easy because I had seen them before. Some things I can't find like the audio of the dance video, however I did find the unedited version as well as that rare poster. I have been searching for things in a similar vein to that with no luck. I am just treading explored ground even if I went in a slightly different direction to find that advert. I wish to make infographics but I do not have the confidence to do so as the concept of spreading misinformation scares me. Today I saw a post on a 4chan thread that said she was raped and impregnated by a janitor at Covenant. Even though I knew it was bullshit deep down I still cried at the prospect of this happening. I desire to be a police officer or politician now as I could make a difference in that regard but I know that would be a ways off if I took up these jobs. Thinking about these things when I was in the shower made it click to me that perhaps this is the closure I need. I have always needed a calling in life and I will admit after creating this blog I have felt better and have improved myself a bit. I feel as if the cop job isn't a fantasy just a really hard to achieve reality at this point. I wish to be like the heroes who put Audrey out of her misery or leaked the manifesto pages. Saying all this makes me feel very good and hopeful but you know what scares me? The concept achieving these goals would not bring me closure. I feel as if I need to do 3 or 4 things to bring an end to this situation. 1. I need to find out why she did it 2. get a satisfactory look to who she really was. Given her extreme sides to her personality it will be very difficult. But I think if everything was released then it would be much easier. I wish I could tell that to the courts to argue why they need to be released. 3. I need to bring myself to closure. I think I have hybristophilia. I'm not 100% sure as I often hate her and get angry at her but I read a medical paper that explained what I am going through almost exactly. From what I can understand men like me are a rare breed and have never been documented greatly. That being said I have found a few men just like be here that I have befriended so maybe we are just hidden. In any case I desire to be documented and in exchange get free therapy. 4. I need to accomplish something big. Maybe creating a documentary or saving a copycat or even helping the cops get to the bottom of this. Or like I said take up those professions. If anyone has any advice beyond the usual trolls telling me to off myself please give it to me, I'd really appreciate it.

#audrey hale #grief #mental health #hybristophilia

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himi-wiz · 7 months

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what are your thoughts on the current status of the bsd manga? any ideas on how it'll progress from here, what you like or dislike?

Absolutely none!

No really, at the moment I'm too consumed by One Piece nostalgia (and now Blue Lock) screaming at me to be overly concerned about BSD, BSD has always been more of a casual investment I enjoy for its own and fanart but never actively desire to seek out more. Besides the novels, I like books.

I'm really more of the Bungou aspect of Bungou Stray Dogs as a literature fan * and so my interest has always been a more subtle interest in observing what Asagiri has to say about the human nature and condition than giving absolute judgements on anything.

* Despite interest, have not finished reading a lot of works. Tbf Japanese Literature has a fairly passive tone that I get fed up with for my poor attention span. Others... Yeah aside from CAP being a literal punishment to read I don't have excuses besides I have work + uni and I am lazy.

What I can say is the current manga focus is a lot more on well the two primary black-white duos against each other + Fyodor, Aya and Bram and Fukuchi playing God or whatever. All these exchanges showcase how much would they put out to reach each other and watch how things click into place, the last touches to the final stage curtains.

I don't have as much anticipation on finding out how things end but I would say it's a risky move for Studio Bones to release BSD this early when the manga hasn't finished so it means the anime would adapt the season finale first before the manga.

Asagiri is supervising so I don't doubt it would be okay but I am mildly concerned as to how enjoyable it is to immerse and believe in the narrative. I'll bet he'll pull it off anyways but I hope it's something that wraps the story up well and not leave more questions than not. Admittedly I find Fukuchi off putting power scale wise when he appeared seemingly nowhere with 1. a fairly deep connection to Fukuzawa and the ADA, 2. he's this all powerful might hero that everyone looks to but no mention of him until hunting dogs arrival and 3. we find out he just decided this cause of action and is our twist villain suddenly. What?

Edit after anime ending:

So... That was a thing.

I don't know if I liked it or not but I guess quite a bit of stuff resolved.

I still don't like Fukuchi. No matter how beautiful your whole reason to save the world was, that's just bullshit to drag the entire world into your shitty plan and then dump it all your ex sweetheart pick up the pieces and be the "good guy" you wanted him to be by sacrificing yourself.

Teruko deserves so much better, she wasn't even able to be happy finishing what she needed to do. Damn.

Anyways moving on, rest of the gays are... Gay (happy).

Aya is safe and alive, Bram is now her guardian Knight accompanying the hero of justice! Though her looking up to her father is bittersweet. Also knowing irl Ms Aya Kodo's whole strained relationship with father and living under his shadow but still desiring his affections is man, twisted.

Kenji and Tecchou is okay whoo!! So is Kyouka and Lucy

Where Jouno. What the hell Jouno. Is he okay?? Whyy???

Where the hell is Yosano, Kouyou and Mori (and Higuchi) too I don't know if Mori's disappearance is something I like, I'm scared what-

I hope Manga can explain that. I'm weary of being wary of Asagiri but dammit Asagiri whyyy

That's all I suppose.

#bsd anime spoilers #bsd #bsd analysis #sort of.#ask #anon ask #tw cursing #bsd fukuchi

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lunastars21 · 1 year

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Elnor ramble (My Crackship)

Okay so imma explain this bullshit ship I came up with that's so least likely to happen at all in the sonic universe. Konor x Prince Elias is the ship in question. First off who are they in sonic! Konor is a thug that works for fang the sniper and kidnaps princess Sally, they get sent to prison in the end and eventually die by food poisoning caused by fang. Elias is a prince and eventually king of the Kingdom of acorn, and Sally's brother, who we leave off in a cliffhanger when Archie got rebooted where he tries to get his crown back from evil wizard naugus.

These two have never met

Ya still with me here? Kay cool, so why ship them? Especially since fuckin Konor helped to kidnap his own sister in the comic! Well I got two reasons why this suddenly happen, number one: my Elias and Konor are different from their Archie counterparts, Konor has more of a personality and doesn't die, and Elias is more of a missing prince that's just assumed dead and is never thought to be found. Their stories are completely different but still remain sorta to their roles in the Archie comic, Konor is still a troublemaker, and Elias is still royalty. Number two: shower thoughts be damned, I was planning Elias during that lol, I was listing off things, like how Elias has a bad sense of directions and always gets lost, being in the most bizarre areas. Or how he calls himself a hero prince, leaping Into action to help people without a second thought. And lastly, I decided to make him gay, yes in Archie he's married to a nice lady but he just gave me main anime protag vibes and gay energy I couldn't resist.

Now who else did I give gay energy? Oh yeah Konor, and that's when it clicked. I made two Archie characters have a gay trait and that immediately made me hook them together. But that's not all! The trope also gives a good dynamic. My Konor has more personality than his 'just evil thug' Archie counter part, he's shy, hesitant to do things, and stresses out a ton, but when it comes to miss Nic or his brothers, he throws it all aside to defend them. So you basically have a brave hero royal who doesn't back down from a fight, with a shy thug who's afraid of a ton of things and doesn't like fighting. Put them together and you get a hero royal trying to protect an outcast scaredy cat, it's absolutely great and I loved it once I put it together.

Would they clash based on their different roles and such? yes of course, but at the end of the day, they get through it and act like a fuckin anime Rom com, going through dangerous adventures together and being Fuckin cute. Maybe even a part were Nic, Karl, and Jeff, give Elias a set of quest to prove if he's worthy of being with Konor! The brain rot be going BRRRR.

But that's all for now! Maybe later I'll show more art of this unlikely duo or type more nonsense, if you read all this, thank you I appreciate it :] and now you understand why I draw them together lol xD

#luna's shenanigans #elias acorn #konor the weasel #Elnor #my brain coming up with these crackships bro #idk if my IQ is high or low xD #my crackship

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porcupine-girl · 3 years

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Thesaurus.com, this is the least helpful you have ever been.

#yes this is the ONLY definition they have synonyms for!#the word I was looking for was idol and on the idol page it does list hero as a synonym #but when you click on hero it still just gives you this bullshit #wtf #words #thesaurus #writing

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mintmatcha · 3 years

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quickie - dabi X hero!reader

Dabi x cis!fem reader

CW: public sex, voyeurism, standing sex, doll as a nickname, praise

a/n: thanks to shan’s discover server for dealing with my bullshit creating this <3

"We can't keep doing this."

The figure, leaned against the graffitied brick of a building, tosses back his hood as he takes another drag from his cigarette. The black of his hair, streaked with the occasional red, shines under the streetlamp. His burns are worse than the last time you’ve seen him, stretching from his face to his knuckles.

"You say that everytime." Dabi drops the cigarette butt and crushes it under the heel of his boot. "But you always come anyway."

You scuff your heel against the concrete, listening to how it echoes down the empty street. The dive bar you two stand in front of long ago cleared, all of the patrons disappearing into the night.

Maybe heading home. Most likely not.

You should be heading home too.

"I'm only here because you asked me to be here." you ask cooly, forcing your eyes to stay glued to your phone. You don't look away until his tight grip clutches your shoulder. Against the chill of the night, his touch is comforting.

"Don't play coy." he scoffs, "I never asked you to be here, little hero."

You flinch at the nickname, checking your surroundings once again. Being recognized as a hero would mean trouble in this neighborhood. You already clearly don't belong; you had dressed nicely for a date- a date with another hero, someone good for you-

only to abandon him the moment this asshole texted you.

"I just told you I was bored," Dabi smirks, the stitches at the corners of his mouth pulling as he eyes you up, "And you decided to entertain me, apparently."

You wish your heart wasn't beating out of your chest. You're not quite sure what it was about him- maybe the danger, maybe daddy issues, maybe the horrifying idea that you genuinely cared about him, maybe something entirely different- but you were wrapped around his fingers.

And he is well aware of it.

He hooks a finger under the strap of your dress and pulls it down and off your shoulder with a languid pace, eyes tracing over the exposed skin. "I like this. Kinda fancy, kinda skimpy-" His tongue runs over the edge of one of his incisors, his piercing catching the low light. "It's like you're asking for trouble."

You just shrug. "Maybe I am looking for trouble."

"I told you to stop playing coy." His hand cups your chin, dragging it up to look at him directly. His gaze is dark, hungry, and more than a little dangerous. "Are you here to get dicked down or what?"

You try to sound nonchalant, but your voice is high and tight in your throat. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

“Aw, come on now, lil hero. Don’t pretend to be a brat." he grins, pulling your head higher, “Lemme hear you say it. Tell me you came here to get fucked."

“I-” you hesitate.

“Come on, say it.” he takes your hand in his and, for a second, it's sweet- but then he guides it down to the front of his pants, cupping you over his crotch to feel the beginning of his excitement. "Say you wanna get fucked."

You swallow, and then gently squeeze his cock. "I want you to have sex with me."

"Nuh-uh. That's not what I said." he leans into you, lips brushing against yours, blue eyes never leaving yours, "Say you want me to fuck you."

"I want you to fuck me."

“Aw, dirty girl.” he purrs, "What would everyone think? The perfect sidekick, begging for a villain's cock?"

He closes the gap and catches the plush of your lip between his teeth- hard. You gasp and he doesn't waste the opportunity; his tongue finds yours, rushed and messy.

The kiss breaks, a string of spit connecting your lips for a microsecond. "Turn around."

Before you can react, Dabi's hand grips your forearm and twists it behind you, forcing you against the wall. The prickle of the brick digs into your cheek, but you can't focus on the pain- only the heat of his hands: one holding you still, the over sliding up your skirt.

"H-here?" you whisper, but don't resist. "Someone could see."

"Yeah-" his chuckle is low, "That's the fun part."

He's quick to flip the fabric up and over your ass, exposing your lacy panties to the night air. His palms your ass and shakes it, eyes glued to how it shakes and quivers under his touch.

"Very sexy." he coos almost mockingly, pulling the elastic of your panties so taut that it digs into your skin. You flinch when it snaps back, further pressing yourself into the wall, and Dabi laughs.

"Aw, sensitive little thing, aren'tcha?" he grinds against you, the rough fabric of his jeans doing nothing to hide the swell of his cock. It rubs between your ass cheeks, the friction of demin already burning. The only respite in the cool metal of his studded belt, smooth and slick against you.

"Are you sure you can handle this, baby?" he tugs you closer by the bicep, arching your back until your head falls back. Like this, he looks down at you, a wolfish grin on his face. "I'd be so sad if I broke you."

"No, you wouldn't-" your free arm slides down his front, thumb dipping into the waistband and fingers rolling over the buckle.

"Yeah, you're right." he helps you unclasp the buckle, the gentle tinkling the only sound that echoes down the empty street. It hits you then that, despite the late hour, someone could approach at any moment and catch you being fucked by a wanted criminal.

The scrape of denim is replaced by hot, smooth skin and a tickle of his happy trail. Dabi lets the weight of his cock fall against your folds and a warm trickle of precum grazes your cheek. The night only seems to be getting colder, but the latent heat of Dabi's skin only seems to build.

"Fuck--" he ruts up against you unexpectedly, "You're fucking dripping-" You can feel his cock sliding against you, the wetness of your arousal letting him easily slip between your thighs. The head of his cock ghosts near your clit, not nearly the pressure you need. "God, maybe I'll just fuck you like this-"

A whine escapes your throat before you can tamp it down.

"Oh, don’t be a brat.” he pulls back, “I’ll make sure you get what you need.”

He digs into his pocket and pulls out a gold foil packet, flashing it to you. You two agreed on protection since the first hook up- your insistence. He quickly rips into it with his teeth and rolls the condom down, barely covering his length before he pushes against your entrance, his fat head easily popping inside despite the stretch. You expect him to fully bury himself in one stroke, like he always does, but he stays there inside you, his cock barely past the petals of your pussy. Impatiently, you wiggle back against him, desperate for more, but he braces against you.

"Slow down, now-" he clicks his tongue before pressing a surprisingly soft kiss into your temple. Then, he shoves you forward again, face smushed into the rocky brick. "Lemme enjoy this properly."

You teeter on your high heels, legs already shaking as he finally rolls his hips forward inch by inch. Under his breath, he mutters so low that you can't understand him, but you catch clippings of praise and curses.

His pace is unusually slow, letting you savor the fullness of his whole cock before he pulls back to the tip. His breath is uncomfortably warm against the back of your neck. The scent of ash and tobacco that clings to him makes your stomach turn, but you can't help but want more of it- more of him.

The hand of your hip, unnaturally warm, almost burning, slips around to the front of the panties, dipping into the fabric to trace supply circles around your clit. It's nice- soft and gentle-

but you don't fuck Dabi to be gentle.

With your free hand, you push against the wall, forcing him to sink into you, hard. "Fucking hell-" he chokes out a groan as you start bucking against him. He uses your forearm as leverage, pulling and pushing down his length faster and faster. "That's it-- bounce like that- oh, good girl-"

Your voice, pathetic and lewd, fills the stress, but Dabi does nothing to muffle it. Of course he doesn't- he likes the risk. He wants to be caught, wants people to see him splitting you in half. Anyone even remotely close would be able to hear the wet, sloppy sound of your pussy, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

Once you get the rhythm he wants, Dabi releases your arm and grabs on to the front of your dress, palming your tits through the fabric greedily. It's rough, almost bruising, squishing you solely for his pleasure.

"So soft," he breathes. After a moment, he decides the fondling isn't enough and wraps his fingers under the hem, digging into the fat of your chest. With a firm tug, he snaps the remaining strap, freeing one of your tits into the cool night air. You don't even have time to shiver before his hand takes it place against you.

Dabi always runs warm, but something about sex- albeit the desire or the physical contact- makes him hot. The stroke of his hands, the lips across your shoulder blade, the dip of his stomach against your back- all of them leave ghosts, trails of goosebumps where heat used to be.

Even through the condom, his cock radiates heat deep inside your cunt, twitching and pulsing with every stroke. His fingertips never leave their mark, rolling your clit steadily.

"Y-you gonna cum for me?" he says through his teeth, "Gonna let me f-feel it? Let me make you feel good? Oh, such a good girl for me--"

The pressure on your clit all at once becomes too much and you cum, knees wobbling and threatening to give out. Your pace threatens to falter, but Dabi muscles through it for you.

Dabi's lips find your neck, right below your jaw. A flick of the tongue is followed by the sharp pain of his teeth digging into the soft spot. Overstimulation hits your quickly, your pussy twitching every stroke.

"'Is too much." you hiccup, reaching behind you blindly. You manage to caress his face, the staples warm and wet with his sweat. He nuzzles into the hand, a surprisingly sweet gesture.

"Just- just take it." he growls. The pace is suddenly lopsided, the rhythm gone as he starts to cum.

The gentle pulsing of his cock is immediately followed by pooling warmth. No, warmth is an understatement. It's hot, almost unbearably. You keen away from him, but he stays locked against you.

"G-get off," you hiccup, "You're t-too hot."

"You're not so bad yourself, doll." He withdrawals and quickly peels the condom off, tossing it to the side. He spins you around, running a thumb under your eye. Flecks of mascara and eyeliner stick to his skin. "Especially like this." he gestures to you as a whole. Running makeup, ripped dress, quivering legs, your own cum glossing your thighs- you look destroyed.

"You should walk around like this all the time." Dabi wipes his stomach with his shirt, haphazardly smearing the wetness more than cleaning it, before redoing his buckle. He takes his time, clearly not concerned about being exposed. "On second thought- nah. Just wear this for me."

You shimmy your dress down, trying to cover your ass as quickly as possible. "You're disgusting."

He throws his head back and laughs. "You didn't seem to think so a couple minutes ago."

"Fuck you."

Dabi shakes a cigarette free from the carton and sticks it between his teeth. "Aw, doll-" he dots the tip with his finger and it alights, deep orange against the dark of the night. "You just did."

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #mha smut #dabi #touya smut #minors do not interact #hotstuff

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dienamights · 3 years

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A Reverberate Lullaby | K.Bakugou

✎ The echoing howls stalk you, a ghost hunched on your shoulders, wailing like a child calling for rescue, who cries with no tears. Chanting for a hero that is willing to pick up the pieces of its soul and being, yet it is only left to wither. For the ghost has lost faith that such others exist and can only be cured by finding them, for you are the ghost of your world and love is the only true exorcist.

✎ Protagonists: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 4.1K

✎ Category: hurt/comfort, Implied Mature Content MDNI, Prohero!au, Established relationship!au

✎ Caution(!): Implied Mature Content MDNI, mention of depressive state, toxic family, toxic coping mechanism, mention of reader’s weight gain and thoughts about self worth. Please keep in mind while every person’s reaction to depression is different, don’t belittle anyone’s battle when you don’t understand it.

✎ Author’s notes: Hello! Hope everyone’s taking care! Still on hiatus BUT I’m here to post my contribution to the Mental Health Awareness collab by @doinmybesthere ! This has been in the works for a while because I kept scarping ideas for triggering me lmao. This piece is very personal to me and I’m glad I am able to share my experience with you all, I hope that it might help anyone out there in reaching out and asking for help because I know how difficult and scary it might be! Please check out everyone’s contribution that they worked so hard for! kisses kisses take care!

OOH ALSO! Thank you so much for 900 followers aaaaaah! You’re all so amazing and if anyone has suggestions for an event to hold in June lemme know! I’ll also think of some ideas

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The morning sun barely rises and peaks through your blinds, sunshine starting to kiss at your cheeks as you squint at the light, the room welcoming the warmth that is being brought into it after the evening’s chill that made you curl tighter in on yourself, clasping whatever heat you could muster than to turn around and find it in the heating pad of a body that lays next to you.

An alarm only just rings before quickly being shut off, followed by the creaking of the bed when the person behind you shifts, shifts again, another time, before getting up and stalking to the bathroom, after letting an elongated sigh when they sit at the edge of the bed, not acknowledging your presence accompanying theirs. The door clicking closed before the trickling of water fills the quiet room.

Your clock reads 5 am when you squint at it, and you blink at the time before you go on with your routine, setting up breakfast while your boyfriend gets ready to go to work.

Oddly enough, you don’t really quite remember when you started working on the food, all that you could see in front of you is nothing but a scene that looks like it’s out of a broken TV - there’s just so much static. The voices are distorted, as if they’re coming from a defective radio.

“Listen, this ain’t about me, this is about you and how you-”

“What about me? Huh? That you see me as nothing but a burden? No, you can say it-”

“You wanna hear me fuckin’ say it then fine! This is about you sitting on yer ass all day obsessing over her while she wouldn’ give you the time of day y/n. When will you fuckin’ realize that?”

The scene blurs and sways, and you feel your mind run at a speed you didn’t know it could muster, and you’re unable to keep up with it. The knife in your hand shakes vigorously and barely misses your fingers when you bring it down to cut the vegetables.

The sound of the bedroom door shutting closed alerts you, straightening your back when you hear the drop of your boyfriend’s gauntlet by his chair at the dining table. Katsuki approaches you with careful steps, his still ungloved hand circles your waist before pressing his lips to your temple, a gruff greeting of a whisper laced in between.

“G’morning.”

The familiar scent of caramel mixed in with his aftershave welcomes you, wraps around you and cradles you, promising everlasting safety and happiness. Yet, your heart wrenching sobs and muffled crash of your laptop against your floor that rings in your ears tell a different story, shrieking at you, roaring about your failures, mocking your entire existence.

“Made gohan, should be ready in a minute.” you mumble back, posture stiff at the close proximity of Katsuki and you feel the curl of his lips in displeasure pressing into your temple from both not reciprocating his greeting and your choice of meal for the morning. “You don’ eat gohan,”

“s’why I’m making it.” The quick retreat from your figure is like a slap to your face, and you barely stop yourself from reaching out and forcing his arms back around you. Because it's the bite in his voice that halts your movement.

“You’re still going?” you finally turn to take a look at him, the garnets in his eyes shifting, bleeding from hurt, betrayal, confusion, you really weren’t sure. And by God you had no energy left to try and figure out. “Yes I’m still going Katsuki, they’re my-”

“Yer really listenin’ to the bullshit spillin’ outta ya? This isn’t about em being your family y/n, we’ve been through with it already.” the space between you two feels like endless miles, pieces of the broken bridge you both worked so hard to build the only evidence of it ever being there, the rest crumbling into the valley in between your bodies.

“No, you’ve been through with it, I just wanna make things right, m-maybe I can fix it”

“It ain’t yours to fix y/n, when will you realize that?”

“No!” there you go again, sobbing pathetically. “W-why can’t I have a family, huh? Why- why can’t I, fuck, have a family that just loves and supports me a-and just doesn’t- ” your voice croaks, not failing to notice how Katsuki stepped away from the wreck in front of him. Probably having had enough of you, had enough of how troubling and bothersome you are, probably wondering how he got roped with all your shit and got dragged into your mess of a life.

His hands feel like scolding fire when they’re placed on your shoulders, halting their shaking as you cry into the palm of your hand to muffle the sobs, a habit Katsuki has been working so hard on to help you overcome, saddened to see you try and hide your vulnerability from him.

“Because they never made an effort, so why should you?” The tugging at your heart burns, the swallowed sobs feel like needles prickling at your lungs, making breathing feel like an impossible chore. You can’t help but feel restrained whenever you’re presented with the truth, especially unfiltered and unsugarcoated like right now, you know he’s right, you’ve known he was right a long time ago, but admitting it out loud just felt borderline impossible.

So you do what you do best, push him away, all the strength you can muster barely budges his figure, the meal forgotten on the counter as you run and lock the bedroom door on yourself.

Your footsteps feel heavy, dreading the topics and scenes you’re bound to relive. The grip on the strap of your shoulder bag tightening as you push the glass door open. A sigh escapes past your lips again as you enter the restaurant, half-heartedly smiling at the hostess before making your way inside to look for them.

It’s always the same scenery, the kind that always makes you want to run away to the other direction instead of being dragged down into whatever hell this is. And you pause to question yourself, again, why you actually agreed to put yourself out there.

There they are, seated in the four person table, with two empty seats, one for yourself and the other for the sibling your mother always hoped to have instead of you.

Your mother’s pursed lip could be seen from where you stand at the entrance, the clicking of her tapping foot sounding as bad as grinding metals in your ear, you hate it, despise it

It’s the same clicking you learned to memorize, to anticipate, to fear, when she passed by your room, the clicking that made you smother your face in your pillows and swallow your sobs, because the sound of you crying brought her more distress and annoyance than concern for her daughter.

With another tug at the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, you approach the table, hugging your father when he stands up and nodding to your mom when she eyes your figure.

“Good morning mother. It’s good to see you.”

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

Here we go, you breathe out before tugging at a strand of hair, spitting out your words “nothing’s wrong with it.”

“Then why does it look awful like that?”

There are times like these where you are left to question your reasoning for accepting whatever invitation you received from your parents to have brunch with them after all those months, a moment of weakness deceiving you into believing it was better than to spend it in your empty apartment, with the silence that ate away at your sanity every second. The only evidence of life in it other than yours was the recently cleaned dishes and the note thanking you for the meal, the promise of cuddles and movies tonight making you gain just a little more patience, barely.

You refrain from answering, your response is to lower your head, drag the dining chair before plopping on it, a dreary sigh escaping your lips as you scoot your chair closer to the table. Your mother never changes, it’s been a while since you were able to move out of her home, and while your father tries to tell you that these brunches are a way to reconnect with them, you yourself know that it’s merely a chance for your mother to nitpick at everything you ever did or are doing since you left.

“How have you been y/n.” your father smiles at you, both of you ignoring the sound of your mother kissing her teeth when her attempted jab at you is ignored. “Uh, I uh I’ve been good, I just wrapped up with my exams and so far things have been-”

“How is your hero boyfriend?”

For a second, you contemplate whether to ignore her question and keep conversing with your dad, dreading the questions that are to be pushed your way regarding Katsuki, of which will be used as bragging material for when she meets whatever group of friends she associates herself with, but you know better than to ignore her with the way she gets when she isn’t fed with attention.

“He’s uh, good.”

“Why isn’t he here today? What, too good to meet us?” your mother nags, and for the love of God, would that fucking clicking ever stop?

“No, he’s doing his job of, you know, being a hero.”

“Is he now? Well, what about you, hm?” She cocks her head as her nails tap the table. ”Did you think your father and I wouldn’t figure out you got fired?”

“How-” the gritting of your teeth is deafening at this point, your jaw clenching so tightly as you and your mother stare each other down. “Your dad pulled some strings, it isn’t that hard. So tell me, you like leeching off of him after you were done with us?”

“This isn’t, I just- I was- I, I had a lot of university work piling up a-and I couldn’t make time for my shifts and I just, it was just so hard for me to get out of bed these days and I.” why are you doing this? Why are you explaining yourself to people that don’t deserve it? Why are you feeding off of their acceptance, knowing damn well you never got it, and that thing was never gonna change.

“Oh, I don’t wanna hear about you not getting out of bed, you’re here now aren’t you? This is all in your head y/n. You need to stop talking nonsense, what’re people gonna say about you, about me, when they hear you?”

It feels just like yesterday, your figure standing and facing your full length mirror, your reflection eyeing you with identical vacant eyes. Fingers running through your bed head, a wince escaping you at the movement. Bringing your hand up and catching a glimpse of a slight swollen purple bruise along your wrist and the dried blood on your knuckles, the skin stretching upon rotating your wrist and causing notable pain.

Alas, that pain paled in comparison to when your mom barged into your room, blaming you for the way you were acting and belittling your reasoning. Beckoning your father over to replace your broken vanity and for your house maid to disinfect the space, the place sparkling clean and void of any evidence of what had transpired the day prior.

The shattered glass was picked up and thrown out, the splatters of blood were wiped clean, and whenever you brought up, what your mom refers to as ‘the temper tantrum’, you’re ignored by both your parents as they continued about their day, fearing the shame it would bring upon their name if the event was to catch others’ attention.

“Good morning! I’ll be your server for the day. What can I get you?” the foreign voice sounds more comforting than your own mother’s, and you almost laugh at the irony of it, but you only return her smile and take a look at the menu. Lighting up a smidge at the name of one of the dishes, while your parents place their order.

“Can I please get the soufflé pancake?” you look up to catch the horrified look on your mother’s face, followed by her clicking her tongue and shaking her head as if your choice of food was shameful.

“Certainly-”

“Uh, no she won’t be having that. Get her the Honzen Ryori,” your mother eyed your figure -whatever was visible to her from across the table- before turning to face the server again “maybe cut down on the rice, God knows she doesn’t need the extra calories.” and waves her off, disregarding your protests and tapping her nail against the table top, her annoying method in demanding your silence, which you subconsciously react to, snapping your mouth shut when the sound reaches your ears.

“What was that for? You know I like having sweet breakfasts,” was fuming even close to what you are feeling? Probably not. “Yes I can clearly see that, you’ve let yourself go as well. Do you think that boyfriend of yours will stick around when you start putting on even more weight?”

At a loss for words, you turn to your father, who has been quiet this whole time, for any sense of support when it comes to his wife. But the way he presses his lips together tells you all you need to know, how just because he isn’t bad as her, doesn’t make him that great of a parent. That standing by while you have been bullied your entire childhood and well into your adulthood is just as bad as being the cause of it.

“God forbid he realizes how much of a train wreck you really are and throws you on the side of the street, because you know damn well we won’t be here to pick you up.”

It began as a whispering in the air. The day had been beautiful -well, as beautiful as it can be with the kind of day you’re having- and the sky was like a dome of plasma-blue. The clouds had looked like airy anvils drifting under the gleaming disc of sun. People quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. The postcard-perfect sky started changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade merged in with the flaming orange and mesmerizing purple as the sun sunk deep into the horizon, before beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of cloud start to form, blocking out the old-gold color of the sun.

The first splatter of rain hits you when you’re halfway across the street, dismissing the need to take shelter under the roof of the buildings like some passersby are doing, hoping to see out the shower. Droplets of moisture begin to drip onto your head, sprinkling onto you like a gardener’s hose. It was well after your meal with your parents, and you had spent the last few hours walking aimlessly through the streets, making sure to avoid those covered by your boyfriend during his patrol. Hoping, praying, that something will clear your head, will help your poor jumbled mess of a mind forget about this entire nightmare of a day.

Should’ve listened to him

The rainfall intensifies, the drops drumming against the hood of the cars that you pass by, there is so much rain that the sound blurs into one long, whirring noise, reminding you of the blades of the fan that you stuck your finger in, that one time when you were left alone in your house when you were only five years of age. Eventually, they fade into a musical chime as you push your drenched hair away from your face and feel the vibration from your phone as it rings the ninth, maybe tenth time.

He told me so.

Tall apartment complex building; you couldn’t see its end from where you stand. You shiver as you approach it, the doorman - bless his heart - running and placing his umbrella to futilely shield you from the rain, and you just laugh and tell him that you’re already drenched and just waiting to go back home.

God forbid he realizes how much of train wreck I am

Not wanting to dampen the people at the elevator and make them uncomfortable, you take the stairs up to your shared apartment, you usually don't mind the exercise but with how heavy you feel after the rain and day spent up on your sore feet, all you think about is locking yourself in your room and discover what kind of new façade could you try and fool Katsuki with when he reaches home.

Just how I trick him into thinking I’m not with him to leech off of him

Eventually and with a struggle, you make it to the door, dreading the sight you might come to face, almost hoping for a black hole to emerge and swallow you whole.

What would people say about me? Do people think I’m crazy?

With a forced exhale out of your lungs, you fetch the key from your bag to unlock the door, but it’s wrenched open before you have a chance to insert your key.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Your eyes meet the beautiful rubies of Katsuki, and despite his anger that always overcompensates his worry, you smile and throw yourself on him. The shivering ceasing when he wraps his warm arms around you and that loving caramel scent engulfs you, in spite of how your hair is drenching his shirt and how you sniff against his neck.

“You need a shower, you’re shivering.”

“Take one with me?” you look up at him through your lashes, and he blinks at your uncharacterized boldness but agrees nonetheless, helping you out of your clothes and turning on the hot water before stepping in with you.

It is a struggle to help you clean up when all you do is grab at him, whether they’re your hands on his shoulders to lower him to kiss you, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your breasts against him, or palming his hardening cock as the poor man tries to shampoo your hair.

“Would ya knock it off? I’m tryna help you here shitty woman” you frown and squint your eyes when the shampoo gets close to them. “I wanna have sex.”

“Yea I can fuckin tell, just lemme-” you bring his arms down and press his palms to your boobs, letting go of his wrist when he starts squeezing at them. “Do you not want to?” he gulps, his dick twitching at the feeling of your soft mounds in his hands, your nipples covered up by the suds from the shampoo, as your finger traces the underside of his cock. “Yeah, I uh, fuck, I do, just- you need to wash up so you don’t get sick, alright?”

“Do you not think I’m pretty anymore?” you pout childishly, tears threatening to escape your eyes, and they burn as you close them when he washes the product out of your hair, a deep frown on his lips when you open your eyes back again. “The fuck you on about? That rain really fucked with ya?”

“Are you gonna get rid of me when you realize how much of a mess I am?” you whisper, your voice muffled under the sound of the shower above you, and you keep quiet as he helps you scrub your body, but your boyfriend is observant, he isn’t fucking dense.

“What do you want, right now?” he lowers himself to your level when he’s done, his hands stroking your cheeks as he eyes the way the water droplets cling to your lashes, but still not missing the red rimming around your eyes.

“I just wanna for- I uh, I wanna have sex.” you mumble, a plea hidden underneath your words, a plea to help you forget, to help you bury this day behind you and pretend it never happened.

What you don’t expect is the way that Katsuki pulls your naked wet body out of the bathroom and drops you on the bed, feeling your bodies dampening the bed as he hovers over you, no words are spoken between you as he kisses and nips at your skin. Marking it up and down as he all but worships your body, strands of his hair tangle between your fingers when you run your hands through it, arching your back at the feeling of his tongue tasting your slick.

He doesn’t let up until you cry out, and not in pleasure, your sobs far beyond those he loves to hear when he’s denying you an orgasm. No, they’re sobs that wreck your whole body, kicking away at his shoulders as you curl in on yourself and wail into the sheets. Sitting on his haunches on the floor, Katsuki’s eye soften at your figure, the way your shoulders are shaking and how -yet again- you’re trying to muffle your cries with the sheets this time, pressing your face against the mattress in an attempt to lower your noise, as your mother would call it.

“Hey, look at me” you feel his lips grazing your ear as he kisses it, pressing his lips against your temple, fingers unwrapping your fist against the sheet and digging into your hands and pressing kisses against the nail marks in the palm of your hands. “There she is, there’s my girl.” you hear when you lift your head from the bed, sight blurry from your shed tears but still easy to distinguish Katsuki even between billions of people.

You sniff when he kisses at your lids, groan when he chuckles and calls you ‘snot the naught’ when you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, beaming when he hears you let out one weak chuckle at the way he teases you. Still pressing his lips against any surface of skin he can reach.

“You don’t have to talk about it you know, to me at least” he mumbles to you when you’re both dressed in your sleepwear and are cuddling on the dry side of the bed, opting to change the sheet the next day. “Maybe, maybe we can get someone who can help you, you know.” you press your face deeper between his neck and shoulder, shuddering when his warm palms rub your back from under your shirt.

“I can make some calls, get in contact with someone.” you lift your head. “But I can’t afford-” he tuts and frowns at you “None of that.”

“Remember what I said when we agreed to move in?” you do, you just love the sound of his voice when he says it, feels like he’s making all these promises all over again. “Tell me.”

“Told ya I’d be whoever you want me to be, whoever you need me to be. I’ll be yer mom, even better than that bitch, I’ll support and love you unconditionally.” you sniff and tighten your hold against him as he presses his lips against your cheek.

“I’d be better than yer pussy dad, you can rely on me any time and I’ll live up to all your expectations. And callin me daddy is always a plus” he tangles his legs with your own when you wiggle away from him, laughing and giving you no chance of escape, not that you are even thinking of it.

“I’d even be yer genius fuckin nanny that taught you to tell yer mom to go fuck herself when you were four,” your suppressed giggles lights him up and he can’t help but chuckle as well. “I’ll be anything and everything you’ll ever need, baby. I’ll be your goddamn hero.”

The sun comes out again, casting slanted beams of light across the buildings. Steam rises slowly from the greenery. It rises up eerily and drifts mist-like towards the molten-gold sun, right before it escapes into the abyss. The image is so vivid that it stays with you for as long as you remember. Because on this exact day, the shrieking that follows you everywhere you go, haunting you and mocking you, suddenly is nowhere to be found. And all you can hear is the comforting sound of Katsuki as he hums you a lullaby to sleep.

aaaah I hope you like it!

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 5

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST. AND MORE TO COME! Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @iwillstaywiththemforever @justine-en @weirdgirlfromtx @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy @edlothia-baby @soul-end @willieoo @willowoo @peterxwade24 @the-atlantic-french-fry @bad-bouquet-of-emotions @vvipgot7be @pure-princess-97 @atomicsoulhumanspy

Author's Note: I have nothing to say for any of the emotions y'all are about to get from this. Enjoy!-Thorne

She wasn’t sure what she expected when she sat down, but the stretching silence growing between her and her estranged family wasn’t it. She tried to look anywhere but them, not because she was ashamed—far from it. But it was more than awkward sitting across from three brothers and a father she’d not spoken to in three years, let alone tell them she was even alive.

Her eyes found Wally’s as he sat down beside her eldest brother and if looks could’ve killed, he’d been dead and buried.

“Glare at me all you want, but I’m not going to apologize,” he shrugged.

Scowling, she turned her attention to the skyline. “Fuck you,” she spat, crossing her arms.

“At least talk to them, (Y/N).”

“And why should I, Wally?” she questioned, glaring at him. “I don’t have anything to say. If I did, I wouldn’t be here in Central.”

“You’re not leaving until you talk to them,” he finalized with a firm look and she growled low in her throat and resigned herself to her fate.

Her eyes darted to her father��s and she couldn’t for the life of her decipher what was in them. “I’ll talk for an hour,” she told him. “I’m not talking about what I’ve been doing in Central City, so don’t ask. I’m not talking about the life I’ve been living, so don’t ask. You’re only allowed to ask me about my departure and that’s it. But after one hour is up, I’m leaving.”

“Who said you get to leave,” Wally questioned, and she shot him the darkest glower she could muster.

“So help me God, Wally West you’ll either take me home or you’ll fix that fucking elevator and I’ll walk myself home. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the world who every vigilante is at this table.”

For once she managed to stump him because his eyes went wide—so did her family’s but she didn’t care—and he finally nodded.

“Alright. One hour.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she turned back to her family, more specifically her father. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Maybe for you to come home, (Y/N),” Jason answered, and she glanced to him.

“Not a chance. Next?”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to be hostile. We’re not going to force you here,” Dick said, and she looked at him now, eyes narrowing.

“The manipulation tactic isn’t going to work on me, Dick. I’m not here for to be tricked into coming back. I’m never coming back.” She cocked her leg over the side of the table and reclined, biting out, “Give me your anger. I’d prefer that instead of whatever this pitiful bullshit you’ve got going on.”

In the eighteen years they’d known their sister they’d never heard her say such a callous thing, but her words had practically slapped Dick across the face because hurt etched onto his expression, then immediately turned into anger.

“You want my anger? Fine.” He stood and pointed at her. “What the hell is wrong with you! Why would just up and disappear like you did! Do you have any idea how scared we were for you! How distraught!”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Knowing how you like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders because you can’t help but be a hero? Probably a lot.” She made a dramatic show of looking at her watch. “You’ve got forty minutes. Keep it up.”

Her eyes shifted to Bruce’s. “Did you let them read the letter? Or did you just throw it away after you read it?”

Dick, Jason, and Tim all turned to Bruce at that.

“Letter?” Tim repeated. “What letter?”

(Y/N)’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape and then she smiled knowingly. “Oh, you never showed them the letter, did you?” She looked to her brothers. “I wrote dad a letter the night I left to explain why I was leaving. It’s sugarcoated bullshit but it is the truth.”

Dick’s face contorted in anger. “(Y/N) left a reason behind and you didn’t tell us about it? Three years and not a single word?”

Bruce merely stared at her as he pulled the letter out of his coat pocket. “I was going to burn it when I found her again. Talk to her before anyone else could.”

Jason snatched the letter from his hands. It had faded a bit, softened around the hard edges, like someone had opened it and read it every day for three years.

His eyes scanned the paper, and he met her gaze, voice chock-full of hurt and she had to fight tooth and nail to keep herself from externally reacting. “You left because you thought we didn’t care about you?”

Dick reached over and took the letter. With furrowed brows and a frown, he started to read aloud, and Bruce gazed at (Y/N) as the memory came back to him.

***

Mornings at the manor were unusually quiet in comparison with the evenings. Everyone was typically too tired to argue so it accounted for a peaceful breakfast of soft words and chewing. Everyone had an assigned seat and every child had learned early on not to take the seat that belonged to another brother or their sister because there would be a fight about it.

Dick and Jason sat next to each other and (Y/N) took the seat at the end of that side; Tim and Damian took the other side—oldest to youngest, just the neat and even way Bruce liked it.

It was rare for any of the boys to be awake before him or Alfred and (Y/N) was usually the first kid to the table, the boys wandering in just minutes after her. Oddly enough, that morning she hadn’t come down for breakfast—which she always came to.

Bruce looked at Alfred. “Is (Y/N) coming down?”

Alfred hummed and gently maneuvered Tim’s arm to the side to he could set down the plate. “When I went to her door, it was locked, and I received no conversation from inside.”

Jason snorted and sipped his coffee. “Probably had a long night with her friends and is still out. I know I would be.”

“How would you know?” Tim interrupted. “You died before you got to the eleventh grade.”

“You’re one to talk, dropout,” Dick countered, and Damian sighed.

“Richard, you dropped out of college. The only son of Batman who has actually completed an entire bout of schooling is me.”

The three boys turned on him with scowls and retorted, “No one asked you, pipsqueak.” Damian glared back at them.

Bruce rolled his eyes, using the side of his fork to cut into his omelet. “Let’s try not to start a free-for-all here in the breakfast room, please.” He glanced at Alfred. “She’s probably tired from all the ceremonies. Let her sleep.”

Alfred nodded. “Of course, Master Bruce. She should be well rested this evening.”

But when the evening came, Alfred still hadn’t been able to get (Y/N) to unlock her bedroom nor speak to him. He certainly wasn’t worried, but it was off for her to be so reclusive. When Bruce and the boys came back from patrol, he mentioned it to him.

“Miss (Y/N) hasn’t come out from her bedroom, Master Bruce. Nor has she said a single word all day.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed and he tugged the cowl off, rising from the seat at the Batcomputer. “I’ll go check on her,” he replied. “You deal with…” his steel eyes drifted to Dick who had Tim in a headlock and Jason who was giving Damian a noogie. “Them,” he finalized, leaving the poor butler behind.

He knocked on the door to her room and pressed his ear to it. “(Y/N)? You haven’t come out all day. Is everything alright?”

Nothing. Not even a breath.

“(Y/N), are you in there?” he asked again and when he didn’t receive a confirmation, he raised his arm, running his fingers along the doorframe until he touched a small metal piece. He pulled it down and stuck it in the door, wiggling the knob for a second before it clicked, and he opened the door.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been trying to—” Bruce went silent when he saw the kempt room. Bed neatly made, everything organized and put away. Even her clothes hamper was empty.

He blinked and walked into the room, quickly heading to the bathroom to check for her there. It was empty as well, and just as clean, leaving him stunned as he exited the bath.

Wandering over to her desk, he saw an elegant envelope sitting on top of her laptop, his name written in beautiful penmanship. He picked it up and unfolded it, pulling out the multi-page letter. He drew his eyes along the golden lines, reading her words.

Dad,

I don’t really know how to start this letter. Truth be told I’ve written at least six before this one, and even then, I’m not entirely happy with it. But if you’re reading this, I’m not here anymore. I haven’t hurt myself in anyway, you don’t need to worry about Vicki Vale or Jack Ryder reporting the discovery of my body. I mean it in a literal sense—I’m not in Gotham anymore. Neither am I ever coming back.

Don’t think this is your fault. You’re a good father, the best I could’ve been given, and my brothers are good siblings. But the truth is that I’m not fit for this family of heroes. And I never have been. My best when trying to be what all of you are, was never good enough and I’ve spent eighteen years staring at your backs, waiting for you all to realize that I’m still here, that I still matter even if I’m not like you. And I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my own home any longer.

I don’t want you to look for me. I know you will, but I wish you wouldn’t. This isn’t some spur of the moment thing I decided to do the night after graduation. If you look at my bank records, I’ve been withdrawing cash from my savings since freshman year—this is four years of planning, so please understand that I’m doing this because I don’t want to be found—ever.

I’ll leave the story for the media up for you, though I doubt that they’ll care long enough to make a deal of it. It’ll pass like winter does spring and they’ll move on to the next bigger story.

Thank you for everything dad, and good luck with Gotham—keep it safe like you always have. And I hope that one day when you think of me, you won’t feel disappointment. I’ve only ever tried to be something that when you looked down on me, you’d only be proud, and I hope one day I’ll achieve what I always dreamed about. Eighteen is young to be on your own and I’m scared. But I’ll be okay—I always have been.

So do me a favor and don’t spend too much time over this. There are plenty more younger kids that need a parent’s hand on their backs to steady them like you once did for me. Find one and fill my spot. Let them shine brighter than I ever could. Let them be the one worthy to be a Wayne—I know I never was.

-(Y/N)

Bruce barely had time to grasp the back of her chair to keep himself from falling to his knees in shock. The letter was clenched in his hand and his lungs wouldn’t take in air like he wanted them to, his heart aching with each palpitation. He looked around the room to her dresser drawers, willing the strength into his legs to moved over to it. He opened every drawer and to his astonishment, they were empty. Hurrying to the bathroom, he noticed the drawers in there were empty as well. She was really gone. And he had no idea what to do.

***

Tears were in Dick’s eyes when he finished the letter and he looked up at her. “How could you ever think we didn’t care about you, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to sit there and explain every time she asked her brothers if they wanted to do something with her and they conveniently had something else to do. Didn’t want to explain every school and extracurricular performance that went unattended and left a little girl standing in front of a crowd barely managing to stave off the tears as she bowed and thanked them for coming. She didn’t want to remember all the memories that chipped away at her heart with every disappointment that occurred. All she wanted to do was leave.

(Y/N) had earlier returned to her original position, hands in her lap and she clenched her fists until her nails bit into the skin of her palms, eyes directed anywhere but Dick’s.

“I think it’s time we call this little reunion done,” she said, standing to her feet. “We’re not going to get anywhere.”

“Not if you run again,” Jason muttered, unconsciously wiping a tear from his eye.

She pointed at him, hissing, “I didn’t run the first time, Jason. I left. On my own accord.”

“You ran instead of coming to us, (Y/N),” Tim said, and she threw her hands above her head in disbelief.

“What the fuck did you want me to do! Wander down into the cave and beg at your feet for someone to pay attention to me! To at least pretend like I was a sister! I did! Every day!”

(Y/N) picked up her purse and yanked it up her arm. “Cassandra seems to be fitting in better than I did. So go and dote on her as the younger sibling. I’m not interested in the position anymore.”

“It’s not a competition,” Dick explained. “We love you just as much as we love Cass.”

She paused and gazed at him, voice laced with disappointment as she disagreed, “Then you should make sure she’s content in the manor, because if you love her with any semblance of how you loved me? It’s not at all.”

Her eyes shifted to Wally’s. “Fix the elevator. Now.”

He stayed seated for a moment, the two of them staring each other down, then he nodded wordlessly and moved to the elevator, starting it again. Her family stayed seated, and she gave them one final look before she followed Wally, silently waiting for the doors to open.

When they did, she stepped inside and turned around, hitting the button. Just before the doors closed, Wally stopped them and murmured, “You’re making a mistake.”

“My worst mistake was becoming friends with you.” (Y/N) blinked at him, then reached up and shoved his hand away from the door and as it closed, she remarked coldly, “And you can go to hell for all I care.”

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