#though finishing things might take a while...

[kingchroma]

hellloooo can i request Lookism guys dealing with pregnant reader?🫶🫶🫶🥺 (before their kid was born in your lookism as girl dads hcs)

lookism boys with pregnant reader.

࿇ characters. gun/goo/jake/gitae

࿇ warnings. there’s not a lot of dialogue since i wanted to dive more into their thoughts regarding your pregnancy. basically shows their thoughts re: the news and how they act on it ࿇ author's note. this is set before they became girl dads! thank you for requesting and i apologize for taking so long, i’ve been a bit stuck with this.

part 1 found here.

GUN PARK

If anything, Gun had taken on the responsibility of a father easily compared to what you had initially thought.

Being in Gun Park’s life had meant that you were able to see the rawest, purest form of him—the one where you see the Gun Park who had easily cooked your favorite meal in the cutest way possible. The one where you see how gentle he can be whenever he tends to you despite his heavy hands that were used to beating up people. The one where you see how caring can he be to you and to your unborn daughter.

���Rest,” he says, not even bothering to look up at you as you watch him make another conconction—whatever you and the little one (as he likes to call her) craved for today. It was a little mix of everything, and while Gun had wanted to tell you that this is not healthy, he could not resist you and your cute little face.

So what if he had gone soft for you? You were the only one who could see that softness anyway, and it’s not like he had lost his edge. He still makes a living, completely barricading this part of life away from prying eyes and loud mouths—namely Goo and the rest of HNH—while ensuring that the Four Major Crews aren’t doing shit that could possibly tarnish whatever he had worked so hard for.

All that matters now is you and your daughter.

“But what if I don’t want to?” you argue lightly, though it sounded more of like a tease. Gun had a tendency to be overprotective, making sure that you’re comfortable. If you wanted a massage now, he would almost immediately drop the baking sheet to go and wash his hands before tending to you.

He was quite literally the textbook definition of a househusband.

“Aren’t you a little hardheaded this afternoon?” he asks, looking up to see you glowing. Gun thinks he might have a heart attack with how adorable you look in your maternity dress, how you have that cheeky expression in your face that he loves looking at.

And while he initially was fearful of the pregnancy, it looked good on you. Looked good to the point that he wanted another kid because you being so round with his daughter made his heart ache in the best way possible. “You should go and take a seat on the sofa. It’s like sitting on a cloud,” he says, knowing damn well that he had it imported from whatever country it came from only because he wanted you to be comfortable during this whole pregnancy.

“Yeah, but,” you start, sitting on the bar stool as you watched him pipe animated designs on several pieces of cookies. “It won’t be the same without you,” you say, happiness evident in your tone as you put a hand on your stomach. “And our princess wants to see her dad create a masterpiece on those cookies.”

That was enough to make Gun smile—a rare one to his colleagues, quite normal to you—and while he thought that was cheesy yet adorable, he has his own lines ready to quip.

“How funny,” he says as he finishes piping one of the cookies before handing it to you to taste. “Because our princess needs to know that she,” he points at your tummy. “Is mom and dad’s magnum opus.”

GOO KIM

Goo has done a lot of stupid things, and while they are stupid, they are well-calculated. He doesn’t make a move where he knows he’s on the losing end because Goo will always benefit in the end.

This, however, is not something that he had calculated. He was also unsure if he was going to benefit from this because he hadn’t thought this through. Maybe it was also the panic and anxiety talking because he’s not supposed to talk and think like this whenever you’re involved—making it sound like you’re just some random business deal that he needs to get over with when you’re not.

You’re worth more than whatever pile of money was waiting for him at the end of every goal he has.

Still, he can’t even deny it himself—the news had shaken him up. Though thanks to years of masking his feelings, he’s definitely a lot better at not showing whatever emotion that was about to consume him because you look so happy.

You look so happy at the fact that you’re giving him a child at this age. Goo wonders if you’re as crazy as he is because holy shit, the two of you were only, what? In your 20s?

You should be partying at the club and not getting knocked up by him because: a) he’s got a lot of shit to do in the underworld and he’s involved with incredibly dangerous people, b) he’s an idiot that wanted to go raw, and c) he’s unsure if he can be a great father to this kid.

Goo, at most, plans 5 steps ahead, but with you wanting to keep the baby, he must plan at least 10 steps ahead because God knows whatever life is going to throw at him next. He was still unsure about the pregnancy—the thought of being a father—but he sure as hell would give you everything to ensure that you only have a smooth and less-awful pregnancy.

So, months later, his protectiveness shows.

Really.

“Jungoo, I’m fine!” you argue with your boyfriend as he held your hand, the two of you descending down the stairs of your new home.

He was insane enough to get you a house—away from prying eyes so that you and your beloved baby girl will be safe, not worrying about anyone who could possibly attack the two most important people in his life. “I can go down the stairs just fine!” you exclaim.

And while you almost push him down the goddamn stairs, Goo keeps a tight grip on your hand, the other on the small of your back. “You don’t know that, cupcake,” he says gently, eyes flitting from your face to your pregnant tummy. He feels his heart swell a little because going through the ultrasounds, the parenting books, the look of the nursery—everything made him excited.

A far cry from his initial response to when he found out you were pregnant. “Let me do this for you, okay?” he says gently, trying not to trigger a possible mood swing from you. “Ugh, fine,” you retort, letting him dote over you. “Only because you look funny begging,” you say, in which you receive a face from him.

You think about how Goo had always been so mobile, always in one place and then another because he has business deals all over Seoul. But with you, he’s been so patient, the most he’s ever been considering he always liked to get things done in the quickest, Goo-est way possible.

“Thanks, Goo,” you murmur as he safely helps you down the stairs, your hand immediately resting on your stomach. “Anything for you, sweetheart,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead before placing his hand on top of yours. “And for our sweet little angel too.”

JAKE KIM

Jake hadn’t really thought about being a father at such a young age.

Considering his lifestyle and as the leader of Big Deal, Jake had wanted to make sure that before anything like a pregnancy happens, or at least progresses, he had removed himself from the gang life.

Sure, he treats Big Deal like family because that’s what they are to him, but at the end of the day, there’s always a sick reminder in his head to never ever forget that it was still a gang—and the two of you having an unplanned pregnancy while he’s still the leader of the said gang makes him want to spiral into the abyss.

But even if he was in a state of shock and in worry, he doesn’t show that to you—not when you looked so horrified right in front of him, hands trembling, your tears instantly filling your lash line as you broke the news to him. You confirmed that you were indeed carrying his kid after a trip to the clinic.

“Hey,” he says as he holds your hand in his, engulfing them. “We’ll be okay,” he assures you in a quiet whisper, hunched down a little as makes a promise.

That’s what he tells you—often does, anyway. Jake was the type of person to reassure everyone around him that things were going to be okay, even if he himself was unsure of what the future holds. But he knows he’ll do something about it, make a plan—he had always been the type to step up no matter what challenge was thrown towards him.

A few weeks in your pregnancy, you began experiencing its symptoms. Jake could hear you retching your guts out in the bathroom, his immediate instinct was to get out of bed and quickly follow to help you. The swinging of the door was heard as you were keeled over, feeling his large hands help you with your hair before letting the other rest on your back.

His expression softens as he rubs your back. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispers, and you only hum a response in return because you didn’t feel like talking—the weight and realization of becoming a mother slowly sinking in with the symptoms.

Shit, he feels bad. Jake knows you well enough to know that you’re in deep thought, and he thinks that you wouldn’t have to carry majority of the burden if the two of you had been careful enough. But you wanted to keep the baby, and it’s your body therefore it’s also your choice. In the end, all Jake can do was be there for you and be the best support system for you.

“I’m here.”

GITAE KIM

Fatherhood is a foreign concept to Gitae.

If anything, he thinks—knows, that he’s not meant to be a father. He doesn’t have the gentleness and patience of a parent. Sure, maybe he can be stern, but never in his life did he think that he would be a father. Can you blame him if he didn’t know how to be one, given how he was born out of wedlock? How his own father barely acknowledged him, his first born, and so he turned into whatever this is.

All Gitae knows is that he was a man made to remove people—a man who resented his own parents; resenting them for giving him life when he didn’t ask for it.

He knows that being a parent isn’t for him. So when you told him you were pregnant, a multitude of thoughts had come to his head.

It was as clear as day whenever Gitae recalls the moment you broke the news to him.

How your voice trembled when you spoke to him, pupils looking like they were about to spill salty tears. How you were visibly shaken, making yourself look smaller in his presence, utterly distraught at the fact that you were pregnant when the two of you have been so careful. How you had endless apologies slipping from your lips, not bothering to look at him out of fear that he might get rid of you and your unborn child.

Gitae doesn’t know if the odd pain in his chest was normal whenever he remembers that devastated version of you that day. Even if the two of you had such an unconventional start in your relationship, at the end of the day, he still chose to risk it all with you despite not knowing the first steps in loving someone—in caring for someone other than himself.

At the end of the day, he still wants you in his life no matter how dangerous it was—because he had a silent promise not just to you, but to himself.

That he will protect you because he wants you standing by his side.

“You’re pregnant,” is what Gitae says as he looks down on you, the sentence he utters sounds more like a statement than a question. It was as if he doesn’t completely register the revelation you just told him—the look in his eyes could be described as two things: distant and hollow.

But this is you, not some random woman—not a concubine. So he tries to take it easy on you.

“Do you want to keep it?” Is the first thing he asks, and when you take a while to respond, he leans forward to hug you—a moment of reassurance and affection, quite rare. An unspoken I’ll be here for you. And once you said yes, Gitae steels himself for nine long months of pregnancy—and a lifetime of fatherhood.

Though, he thinks he’s faring better than expected.

Months later, he finds himself massaging your feet as you tell him about how your daughter was giving you a hard time today, constantly kicking, making you want to lay down constantly. And apart from that, pregnancy in itself made it quite heavy for you on your day-to-day, so you asked Gitae to give you a foot massage.

To which he surprisingly obliged.

He only hums as he listens to you, a grunt and even a small chuckle escaping from time to time. “Mi flor,” he speaks, looking at your stomach. “Don’t give your mama such a hard time. She’s already dealing with papa as it is,” he jokes lightly, but he doesn’t notice the slight look of concern that you give him.

He makes it sound so horrible dealing with him. Maybe to his enemies, yes, but Gitae had been nothing but different with you in the best way possible. “I’m sure our little flower just misses you,” you assure him lightly. “After all, papa had been gone majority of the day. She hasn’t heard your voice as much,” you tell him, and he glances at you with a softened expression.

“Is that so, mi flor?” he says, halting in his movements of tending to your feet as he sits next to you. “Well, papa’s here now,” he murmurs, rubbing your stomach gently, feeling his daughter kick, and that instantly brings a small smile on his lips.

“Should I tell you what mama and I plan on giving you when you’re born?” he asks his daughter.

“Would the world be enough, mi flor?”

[miareen221b]

How are they in a relationship? headcanons!! x fem!reader

(Umemiya, Sou, Sakura, Nirei (because that boy is oppressed in the community I swear)

AN: would've liked to write more characters, but I haven't finished season 2 yet nor read the manga so I don't know much about them to write their headcanons yet, so maybe after I do there'll be a part 2?

Umemiya Hajime:

•a true golden retriever •you can't convince me otherwise •has a verity of love languages •physical and verbal affections are examples!! •he LOVES to shower you with kisses whenever he can •or to hug you from behind •he'd compliment you on your outfit whenever he thinks they're cute/very stylish (which is all the time!!) •and on your makeup (if you wear any) •showering you with gifts is also another example!! •he'd get you gifts on occasions or even just because he wants to!! •be sure that you're the first one to try his garden's fresh corps •whenever a new plant is growing well he'd show you right after he notices it!! •even if you're not around he'd take a picture and send it to you!! •you can NOT convince me that whenever you two aren't with eachother he wouldn't text you and send you pictures about everything he's doing and happening around •he'd NEVER expose to any shape or form of violence •a bunch of thugs annoying you (they obviously didn't see him with you) he would fight the urge to kill them for looking at you and send them a silent threat with his eyes to fuck off or else and they'd flee away!! •an unexpected fight? As much as he just wants to stay with you, he still has duties so he'd leave you somewhere safe and go •you wouldn't even see him covered in blood and scratches!! He makes sure he's all clean before meeting his cutie pie!! •LOVES to call you nicknames and pet names!! •N/n, cutie pie, sweetie pun, honey, sugar, love you name it!!

Suo Hayato:

•a true gentleman!! (Mostly.. don't let his facade deceive you!!) •he LOVES to tease you (he'd stop when you get really annoyed but otherwise..yk..) •loves to cook for you and make you tea •afternoon teatime is a must!! •takes good care of his lady!! •when you're really tired after a long day he'd massage you (perhaps with a tease with him "accidentally" touching you somewhere he shouldn't) •or when you're emotionally drained he'd let you rest your head on his lap and play with your hair until you're feeling better!! (This is so cute😭) •definitely buys you a matching earrings to his to show everyone that you're his you're together •if a bunch of thugs annoyed you he'd definitely do just like umemiya (but scarier they might piss themselves while they flee lol) •isn't much of an online chatter as he prefers to be with you physically •but still, if you weren't together he would chat online (nothing is better than talking to you after all!!) •if he had a fight to go to, he'd inform you where is it so you wouldn't accidentally get hurt •dirty jokes loves to joke with you!! •buys you matching clothes to his (again, to show others you're his) •morning/good night texts guaranteed •will use his mischievous tactics to now your preferences to anything so he can always be perfect for you!! •randomly pats you on the head (he just thought you're cute)

Haruka Sakura:

•tsundere vibes •he LOVES you, really, he just doesn't know how to express it •and it makes him unable to sleep at night (you once noticed the black circles under his eyes a few days after you started dating and asked about it, but he'd never admit it so it's still a mystery to you) •he literally had to ask everyone for advice to ask you out (and still does after dating you, and they don't mind, they know this is all new to him and they're there for him for guidance they think it's funny and cute) •tries his best for you (literally) •Tsubaki_chan recommended him reading shujo manga so he could get some ideas •of course he read them (another thing he wouldn't admit though) •the next day you found him at your door, holding a rose bouquet blushing like crazy looking away stuttering to call you honey!! •but it was a great resource for date ideas!! •Would never expose you to violence (unless necessary) •so when a bunch of (you know the rest already, no?) he does kick their ass (he considers that "necessary" of course!!) •when he has a fight (if he knows of it before it happens) he tells you where it is, not to get near it's place (if he doesn't) he makes sure you're somewhere (or with someone) safe •is new for everything, take it slow!! •so when he wants to buy you a gift he went again to tsubaki_chan for help (it's tsubaki_chan so yeah..it was a really good gift!!) •99% of the times, m'boy is blushing (we know you like it!!) •isn't much of a texter too •but still, when you want to chat he'd try his best (canonically a slow texter) •if you asked him for morning/good night texts he'd always do them (anything for his love!!) •if something interesting happens, and he wants to show/tell you on your shared chat, he'd take time to but he'll eventually do it!!( Please praise him) •even tho he looks like a human tomato whenever it happens, but he does LOVE your physical touch!!

Niere Akihiko :

•a true cutie pie!! (No room for discussion) •is also another blushing mess (he's just glad you're dating him) •100% boyfriend material!! •he now carries two notebooks with him wherever he is (one is the usual one, and one only for you) •has anything noted about you in it (what you love to eat/drink, where do you like to get it from, favourite colour/s, your sizes, accessories style, makeup brand (if you wear any) yk, literally everything about you he has noticed or you told him IS there) •he also writes down shops and places he thinks you'd like so you can go together there sometime!! •best dates planner (has everything planned, from start to end (literally) •although when something happens that wasn't planned he freaks out (please comfort him, he's too cute to get stressed) •whenever he gives you a gift, yk it's good!!(It's always something you really wanted/needed, m'boy is always on spot!!) •you can go to him if you needed help finding something (he always knows where) •shy shy shy SHY!! •don't tease him, he's not sakura, his heart might actually explode!! •LOVES when you praise him (please pat him on the head too) •if a bunch of thugs (yeah yeah, yk the rest) he'd stand Infront of you and protect you (he might get a beating, but m'boy always stands up again) •while you clean him up, please be careful, he's already feeling weak and pathetic for not being as strong as others and incapable of protecting you so he might cry •whenever that happens, please hug him tightly until he calms down, he really needs it •after a bit of Suo's training him, next time that happens, he'd get a couple of hits, but he'd successfully protect you!!(PRAISE HIM!!!) •always has another one for you •unexpected rain? He already has two umbrellas •need wipes/tissues? Has them •need painkillers? Has them •need pads/tampons? Don't ask him about it, but he does have them •does look at your photos before he sleeps (he's thanking God you chose him) •always makes sure you're happy, safe and comfortable (like, ALWAYS!!) •please praise him

Another AN: I actually spent a day writing only umemiya and Suo, Sakura and Nirei were written so easily which makes me reconsider that Suo is my favourite or not lol

I'm considering taking requests, so maybe I'll make a requests post soon, and please do tell me what you think about the hcs, I always wanna know your opinions

[ladsrlife]

What are you doing step brother???!!!

Caleb x Reader

Where you start living with your step-brother for uni and the relationship starts to take an interesting turn...

tags: 18+ nsfw/smut, slow burn, angst, taboo, obsessive/yandere caleb 😋

Chapter 1💗 Chapter 2💗 Chapter 3💗 Chapter 4💗 Chapter 5💗Chapter6💗 Chapter 7💗 Chapter 8💗Chapter 9💗

Also started posting on ao3 :)

By the way I edited the smutty part in chapter 9 (I felt like it didn't match the pacing of the current story.) Feel free to take a read if you're curious!

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Chapter 10

The second morning waking up in Caleb’s arms feels a lot less awkward than the first.

It also feels like the fire that had been consuming you both has softened - burning quieter now, no longer flaring at every glance or brush of skin. Finally, a sliver of normalcy returns, where not every interaction is charged with heat.

And with the morning slipping back into something closer to routine, you begin to notice the quieter things.

Something softer, blooming.

You see it in the way Caleb glances at you between bites of his scrambled eggs, gaze impossibly gentle. The way he playfully insists on a kiss before letting you walk out the door. How he ruffles your hair and pinches your cheek in the elevator, utterly unbothered by the strangers around you. How he weaves his fingers through yours at every red light, bringing the back of your hand to his lips for a soft, contented kiss.

It’s as if a veil you didn’t realize was there has lifted, revealing a version of Caleb that’s more open, more expressive - radiant with joy in a way that feels utterly unfiltered. There’s something achingly sweet and thick about him now.

It’s endearing. And it does something to you, watching him so transparently happy.

It makes you wish you’d given this to him sooner.

You find yourself sinking into this version of him like a teabag into warm water - slowly, thoroughly, until there’s no separating where you end and he begins.

“What time do you think you’ll finish today?”

Caleb asks as he parks the car in the campus lot.

“By ten, probably. That’s what we agreed on.”

“Great. I’ll come get you.” He says while the car slows to a halt, and he adjusts the gear to parking.

“Sounds good.”

It’s what you promised him last night: if you’re out late, he picks you up. If you’re too busy to reply for hours, you promise to send at least one text. Or he’ll show up himself. "If that’s not too much to ask on pipsqueak’s part," as he’d said, dramatically, last night.

Caleb looks to you warmly and smiles. He reaches out to cup your face, to which you lean in and meet his tender violet gaze, recognizing the joy shimmering beneath it as you do. His hand strokes down from your hair to the small of your back, guiding you into a warm, full-bodied hug.

“Caleb.”

You murmur in quiet warning, glancing at him as you fight the urge to lean in. Instead, you pull back slightly, checking the windshield to see if anyone might be watching.

He chuckles at your nervousness. "Think people might get the wrong idea?”

“Well, everyone thinks we’re siblings… I doubt they even know we’re step siblings. Though that doesn’t exactly grant amnesty either.”

“…Right.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before pulling his hand back.

You reach out and catch his fingers before they retreat fully, giving them a small squeeze beneath the window.

“Come on, we’ll be late.” You reach for the door handle, but he doesn’t let go of your hand.

”I wish we took the same courses.” He sighs while playing with your fingers. “12 hours seem like a little too much time not seeing each other. Don’t you think?”

The genuineness of his voice, alongside the tender squeezes of your hand tickle your heart.

“…I do have a few minutes between 6th period and the group project meeting.”

You admit, gaze lowering shyly at your suggestion implied in between the lines.

As you observe his face lighting up instantly, his eyes crinkling in delight, you can’t help a laugh. He looks like a puppy getting his favorite treat.

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As if Caleb’s enthusiasm has rubbed off on you, classes stretch on endlessly today. You find your mind drifting more than once - imagining the flush in his smile, the easy brightness in his voice, the way his eyes soften when they land on you. And then, uninvited but no less vivid, you think of the other version of him - the one with dark, focused eyes that seem to burn straight through you.

You oscillate between warm and flushed all day like someone swinging between seasons.

Your friends notice your quiet sighs at lunch and ask if anything’s wrong.

After sixth period, you meet up with Caleb at the Auburn library. Perhaps it’s the fact that you have less than 15 minutes to spend with him.

You tell him you missed him, at which you half expect him to beam. Instead, his smile falters and darkens instead, into something heavier and heated.

He takes your hand without another word and leads you between the bookcases, until you’re tucked away in a back corner labeled “Russian Novels Translated to French.” Why it exists, you don’t know. But it’s secluded enough to make even you feel hidden from potential witnesses. He pulls you into his arms.

You quietly sigh as you feel his warmth engulf you like a blanket.

“We can quickly pull apart and pretend to be looking for a book if anyone walks by.”

Caleb whispers into the top of your head as his arms firmly wrap around you. As you pull him closer, arms around his waist, you feel his hardened length on your stomach.

“Do you even know how to read French?” You ask him, looking up.

His eyes are upturned into an amused smile as he replies, “No.” and leans in for a chaste, quiet kiss.

It’s just a brief second of contact, but the feeling of his soft and wet lips gently sucking yours is enough to chill the back of your neck with pleasure.

You know he feels the same, the way his breath slightly hitches and how he cups your face with both hands and leans in like he really means it.

The both of you kiss tenderly and slowly, careful to not make much sound - shuddered, suppressed breaths mixing and fanning across each other’s lips. Sucking gently again and again until it leaves both of you love drunk and dazed.

You’re both gently trembling when you pull back and bury your head in his chest, to which he responds by wrapping his arms around your shoulders and nuzzling your temple with his chin. "I might actually combust" He whispers, voice ragged. He tightens his arms as if proving a point. “And die.” He places his lips on your temple. “And I’d die happy.”

“Calm down, Shakespeare.” You quietly laugh at his overreaction and pull back slightly to look up.

His soft violet eyes shimmer with a mix of emotions - joy, love, awe, and a touch of… something you can’t quite place.

“Really.” He says, face dead pan serious. It makes you laugh more. “You don’t believe me?”

Rolling your eyes, you pull out your phone from your back pocket to check the time. You and Caleb both look down at the screen lighting up between your bodies. The digital clock says there’s less than five minutes left until the meeting.

“I should get going…” You say.

However, Caleb’s eyes are still glued to the screen. Reading something lower. You follow his gaze to find your piled message notifications.

“There’s a lot of guys… in your messages.” He says, flatly.

“I don’t reply to most of them.” You reply, carefully.

It’s true. The guy from orientation, a TA, a couple of classmates, someone from swim club… you barely know them, but they keep messaging you anyway - even when you don’t respond.

“There’s also Ethan and Lucas from high school. You talk to them often?”

You slightly attempt to pull back, but Caleb’s firm hands around your waist hold you tight against his muscular body.

“No, I don’t. Plus Lucas probably sent it to the group chat.”

Caleb’s gaze is a notch colder. You push against his chest gently, and this time, he lets go.

“Come on, we should get going.”

He exhales quietly behind you as you start walking. You hear his footsteps follow you through the library halls.

Once you reach the lobby, you think he’s going to leave. Instead, with an expression quieter than usual, he insists on walking you to the group meeting room.

You’re surprised along with your friends when Caleb walks into the meeting room with you. You watch their lovestruck expressions as Caleb smiles brightly and introduces himself as your brother. “Mia and Jasmine, right?” He pulls out a container packed with fruits as a study snack, and places it on the table before patting your head and leaving.

“…is your brother taken?” Mia asks, popping a grape into her mouth, still glancing at the door through which Caleb left a couple seconds ago. She shares a glance with Jasmine.

“…Yeah.” You mumble, torn between gratitude and a vague, inexplicable annoyance. “He is.”

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The soft autumn breeze blows in your hair as you step outside the library. In the darkened campus you notice Caleb’s black Land Rover, punctual as always, headlights casting gentle shadows across the pavement.

You wave goodbye to your friends and make your way to the car. A mellow ballad hums softly through the speakers as you slide into the passenger seat.

“How was it?” he asks, greeting you with a light pat on the head before shifting the car into gear.

“So tiring,” you sigh, slinking back into the seat as the night lights blur past the window like falling stars streaking across the sky.

He lets out a chuckle. “Is there a lot to do?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how you made it through to junior year.”

“Maybe you freshmen are just trying too hard,” he teases. “You’ll settle into it. I can help, too.”

“You do seem to have a lot of free time. Weirdly.”

He laughs again. “I work hard. Just when you’re not looking. I was studying in a nearby library until now, too.”

“Really? Alone?”

“With Jessica and Ethan.” he says, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror as he makes a U-turn.

“Right.” Your heart pangs with at the mention of Jessica. You rapidly erase the image of the two sitting together at a table. You’d also been… pushing back what to do with the promise you had made to her. “Sounds fun.” You murmur anything really.

“If you think advanced calculus and a few hundred practice problems is fun, then yeah.”

“Do you really need to know all that to become a pilot?”

“Of course. Don’t you know pilots need to find the derivative when an engine malfunctions?”

You let out a half-laugh, half-sigh at his attempt at a joke.

“Hey-” you protest, and he reaches out and pinches your cheek, wiggles it with exaggerated glee before his hand softens - cupping your face, then trailing slowly down your chin, neck, shoulder, and finally your arm before retreating.

The air in the car warms a few degrees.

“You were good at replying today.” He says, eyes still on the road, his voice lower, almost velvety.

With your head turned away from him, looking out the window, you reach for his hand and lace your fingers through his, playing nonchalant and pretending your hand has a mind of its own.

“…I deserve a well done sticker, don’t I?”

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

You barely make it through the door before Caleb is on you - his lips catching yours in a hungry, breathless kiss. He presses you backward through the apartment, his arm braced behind you to keep you from stumbling as your feet clumsily skid across the hardwood floor.

You’ve barely done anything and yet his breaths are ragged like he’s run miles. You’d expected his arousal since you had noticed the tent in his pants in the elevator ride up to the apartment. And how he’d subtly hid it while a neighbor on your floor waved high to the both of you and made small talk. But you didn’t expect him to devour you immediately, like this.

You open your eyes in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, and see his eyes squeezed shut, brows knit in sheer concentration. He’s so intensely focused, it’s unfairly sexy.

You gasp as he grinds into you, slow and desperate, and your knees give out beneath you. The two of you collapse onto the floor in a tangle of limbs, landing hard enough to knock the air from your lungs, with only Caleb’s hand beneath your head and back to prevent you from hurting.

As his hands reach for the zipper of your pants, you catch them with your own, breathless.

“Wait - I haven’t showered yet…” you whisper, flustered.

But Caleb doesn’t flinch. His hands, still resting atop yours, tighten just slightly as his gaze drags up to meet yours - glassier than you expect.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, voice thick. “I prefer it. Even.”

You flush at his honesty. And then he leans in, pressing his nose into the curve of your neck and breathing in deeply, like he can’t get enough. A low groan leaves his throat as he exhales against your skin.

A shiver runs down your spine.

He unbuckles your pants, to which you pathetically and half-heartedly try to stop - a last attempt at dignity - before you feel his fingers on your groin and your head falls back with a soft, helpless moan.

“You’re drooling down here.” He says, voice ragged, with amused eyes that are darkened with desire. The way his hair is tousled, revealing his smooth forehead and eyebrows, the way he’s completely focused and disheveled - the image etches itself onto your brain. “See?”

You slap away his wet, glistening fingers as he holds them up in front of you to tease you.

He chuckles as he lowers it again, his thumb rubbing your bud as his other fingers rub across the wet fabric down to the hollow of it. Slow, and steadily.

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering.

Heat builds in your stomach, and your body starts to beg in anticipation for a pleasure you’ve repetitively drowned yourself in the past two days. Pleasure that’s become too addictive.

“Caleb-” You whine as you feel the burning urge for more. You tug at his pants. “Please…”

That’s all it takes.

He shifts, shucking off his own clothes with single-minded efficiency, then peels yours away just as quickly, until there’s nothing between you but heat and breath and want.

“A good girl deserves a reward,” he murmurs, voice thick with restraint, before settling between your thighs.

You gasp, fingers threading through his hair as he begins to kiss you there- slow at first, then deeper and bolder. His mouth moves with a maddening tenderness, as if savoring every inch of you. Every flick of his tongue, every soft suck draws out sounds from you you didn’t know you could make.

Your legs try to close around him instinctively, but he pins them gently apart with steady big, hot hands, while his sharp nose buries itself in your clit as he licks your fold down to your opening.

And as you hear him taking deep, vocal breaths, you look beyond your fluttering eyelids to catch the sight of him stroking himself slowly while sucking you deep. His cock is fully erect and squelching from precum.

You think you understand what he means to feel like you’re about to combust.

The sight pushes you over the edge - your body tightening, trembling under the flood of sensation.

“Caleb, wait, I’m - “

Despite your attempts to peel him off, he grips onto your soft thighs more firmly and sucks faster, to which you moan and gasp - before jaggedly bursting all over his face. And it’s true - it’s like your opening is drooling sloppily and stupidly with every burst and moan. He takes it all, drinking you in, lost in it, until you finally sag back to the floor, boneless and dazed.

Only then does he straighten his posture.

His face is flushed, lips swollen, chin slick with the evidence of your pleasure. He looks drunk on desire - half-ruined and half-ecstatic.

You sit up to wipe his face with trembling hands, and he closes his eyes, letting you.

But just as your fingertips brush across his cheek, you feel it - a slow press, deliberate and unyielding.

“Gotta loosen you up, hm?”

You gasp as his fingers slip inside you again.

Your body, already trembling from the last wave, jerks at the slightest touch against your sensitive walls. The floor beneath you is slick with arousal, and your thighs jolt as the wet sound of it echoes in the quiet room.

For a moment, your hand forgets what it was doing - caught halfway inside your shirt - while your gaze locks with his. You fall into his dark, demanding eyes, helplessly, like being pulled under a tide.

The rhythm of his fingers quickens, and your breath unravels with it. The aftershocks haven’t even faded, but he’s already coaxing you toward another. You clutch his wrist with shaking hands, but it’s too late.

You see his eyes flicker as you come again - fast and hard - your mind blanking as pleasure surges through you like electricity.

Dazed, you lie there for a moment, eyes tracing the pale ceiling above, trying to gather the pieces of yourself. But then, just as your breath begins to steady, you feel it again - his fingers, slow and insistent, nudging at your entrance once more.

You jolt, a small gasp slipping out as your hand flies to his wrist.

“Caleb. Please-”

His pupils are blown wide. A faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips - still swollen and kiss-bitten - like he’s barely holding himself back.

“Please what?” He murmurs, his voice low enough to hum through your chest.

You swallow. Your voice trembles.

“Please put it in…”

He looks at you like he’s expecting another answer.

“You gotta put it more clearly than that.”

The way his voice strains - you know he wants it as much as you do. But you decide to play along. You don’t have it in you to argue. Not right now.

You exhale shakily. The flush rising in your cheeks burns hotter than any touch.

“Please, I want your cock inside of me.”

It doesn’t take him long to get the condom.

You feel your mind fading white as he finally presses into you, slow and deep. His long, satisfied groan rings in your ears beyond the translucent curtains of pleasure.

“Ngh-”

You pant and lock eyes with his as he moves excruciatingly slow, in and out of you. Pulses of pleasure wash over your entire body like shallow waves on a shore.

He doesn’t even dare blink as he watches your face warp in various forms of pleasure.

“Caleb,” you whisper, voice barely audible. You reach for him, fingers tangling behind his neck. He leans down instantly, lips brushing yours in tender, breathless kisses.

“I love you.”

He says it softly in your ear, like a prayer whispered in the dark.

“I love you, so so much.”

He whispers again. Another kiss. Another breath.

You tighten your arms around his neck.

“These past few days have felt like a dream.”

He continues like a prayer, voice hot on your skin as he continuously rolls his hips against yours, deep and slowly. You can feel the folds within you slide up, and slide down with the movements of his cock.

“I don’t ever want to wake up.”

The way he whispers it slowly, reverently into your ears tugs at your heart strings vividly, and you feel your eyes sting.

“I love you too,” you manage, voice hoarse and shaking.

“Mmh-”

He lets out a short moan at what you say. His breaths become instantly ragged and his hips start moving faster, like he can’t hold back any longer.

He pumps into you like he’s done so many times the past two days. The wave that was silently washing onto shore turns into those of a storm, getting larger and larger, violently crashing into you with every thrust.

You and him just fit so well like a puzzle - you wonder how other people are able to function in their everyday lives when sex feels this good - this mind bogglingly good - each time.

You choke out moans bordering on screams as a jolt runs through you with each clap. You think you can see stars.

Caleb responds just as sensitively, moaning and panting your name religiously, each breath cutting off violently as if he can’t stand the sheer pleasure coursing through him. You feel the tension in him rising with each jagged thrust.

You feel the biggest wave yet looming in the horizon. As his thrusts become deeper and faster, with one strong stroke, his thick, throbbing tip hits your most sensitive spot, and the peak crashes into you with blinding force. Your body seizes, your breath ripped from your lungs in a cry as the pleasure slams through you. Your mind flashes with hot, all-consuming pleasure.

A beat later, Caleb groans low against your neck and follows you over the edge, hips snapping one last time as he buries himself deep. His body trembles and jerks with each release.

He pulls out and collapses on top of you. For a long moment, you stay like that. Tangled, sweat-damp, and breathless. You feel his heart pounding in rhythm with yours, fast and full and alive.

He cups your cheek and brings his head close, resting his forehead against yours like he can’t bear even an inch of distance. His breath is warm, steady, brushing against your skin as he nuzzles into the curve of your temple. One arm remains snug around your waist while the other traces idle, loving strokes down your arm - fingertips light, reverent, like he’s memorizing every shape of you.

Soft kisses follow: at your hairline, your cheek, the edge of your brow. None of them rushed. Each one placed with a kind of patient devotion that makes your heart ache.

And it’s then, in that quiet, post-storm stillness, that you realize that he has been holding back. Not just in what he does, but in how much he feels.

Because this - this tender, unhurried flood of affection - it’s fuller, heavier, denser than it was just two days ago. Back on Sunday night, looking back on it, you realize he was still restrained, careful, and testing the edges of what was allowed.

But now that you’ve dunk yourself into him, what is spilling out is something bigger, sweeter, and hungrier.

His wants and desires seem to really run much deeper and thicker than you could have possibly imagined. It’s deep, consuming, terrifying in its depth.

You feel yourself sinking into him, inch by inch, willingly. Letting the weight of him pull you down like gravity, further and further into the dark center of him.

And somewhere in that quiet descent, a question floats to the surface of your mind - How deep really, does his love go? and what happens if you sink too far?

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

Hope you guys enjoyed this!!!

Will try to update at least once a week :D

Likes and comments are life <3

tagged readers💕: @noxus123 @plzdonutpercieveme @captainstarnoir @mcdepressed290

[kandyscorner]

Do I Know You? Part 31

Synopsis: Darla wants you to be okay. So does Damian. And so does Jason.

Note: Damian’s back for the chapter! He is the carrier of some important information. Also, he’s just a kid and I love him. Everyone’s just kind of checking on our girl and her and Jason come to a very important agreement at the end. Enjoy!!

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“So, I heard your boyfriend brought you to work this morning. Is that why your so bouncy?” Yours and Darla’s shifts overlapped for just an hour today, not totally common but she had a doctor’s appointment that morning.

“I’m not bouncy,” you retort, and she gives you a look of firm disbelief.

“This is the most energy I’ve seen from you all week. You don’t look like you’re gonna pass out from sheer exhaustion anymore. Tell me you gave him an earful for ditching you.”

“I didn’t have to,” you tell her, and she opens her mouth, probably to tell you otherwise. You hold up a hand to stop her, “He apologized, and he missed me like I missed him.”

She gives you an unimpressed look, “I’m not sure I like him for you anymore.”

“That’s not really your decision, Darla.” You counter and it comes a tad harsher than you intended but some part of you feels it necessary to defend Jason. Sure, he left but he came back. Darla features falter and she gives you an apologetic look.

“I know, sweet thing. It’s just- I don’t want you to get hurt. This city and the people in have a way of drowning out people’s light. I don’t want that to happen to you especially sense you only recently got it back.” She steps towards you and takes your hands, “be careful, please. It’s okay not to forgive so easily, it’s how you survive.”

You forget sometimes that Darla was your first real friend in Gotham and that she knows more about you than anyone else in the city.

“That’s how you survive. I’m so tired of being alone, Darla,” you admit quietly remembered the melancholy you felt during your first two years in Gotham, “Jason’s good and kind and unmistakably human. He made a mistake, and he owned up to it and apologized. He’s not going to hurt me.”

She purses her lips, and you know she wants to argue, but she just nods, “Fine, just be careful alright?”

“I will,” you reassure her, and she leaves to attend to customers.

You know why she’s so up and arms all of a sudden with Jason. The emotional drop in your life while he vanished was extremely apparent. Your apartment a mess and you had a less than stellar work week, wrong orders and spilled coffee. Jason had without a doubt altered your way of existing.

Part of you knew you were lying to Darla about something, about Jason hurting you. You don’t think he would ever physically harm you but emotionally, he could do some serious damage. Something told you he already had. You couldn’t figure out what, but you felt a hollow ache in your chest if you thought too hard about it, so you ignored it.

You finished your cleanup process and clocked out. You give Darla an affectionate squeeze of her shoulder before you slip out into the warm air. Jason had told you he had some business to take care of after being gone for a week, if you needed him to pick you up he would. You brushed him off and told him to take care of what he needed.

It would’ve been a good day for a ride on his bike though. There would be a perfect breeze. You take your time walking, enjoying the mild weather before another storm creeped into Gotham. You tune back in at the sudden feeling of being watched, nerves suddenly on end.

You wonder if it’s paranoia, some strange connection with Jason suddenly being in town that might make you a target, but you don’t know why. A sleek black car rolls slowly on the road beside you and your muscle suddenly twitch with the urge to run. You keep your eyes forward, trying not to draw attention to yourself.

“Miss?” you flinch at the voice, stunned by the British accent. You turn to find Alfred Pennyworth smiling at you through the window from where he sits in the driver’s seat. Your nerves settle back down, and you smile back at the old man. You step towards the car and lean into the window slightly.

“Hello, Alfred. I like your hat.” You say pointing to the chauffeurs hat he wears. He holds the brim and tips the hat to you.

“My mother always taught me to dress for the part.” He smiles fondly as he says the statement.

“And what part is that?” you ask.

“Chauffeuring master Damian from school. He was concerned and wished to see you.”

“Pennyworth, do not make me more emotional than I am.” The boy speaks up from the backseat and your eyes are drawn to him, clad in a school uniform and scowl.

“Hi, Damian.” His scowl lessens at your acknowledgement of him.

“Hello, may I speak with you?” with the way Damian speaks you wonder if his English teachers love him or hate him.

“We’re speaking now, bubs,” his brows wrinkle at your words, a disgruntled look crossing his features. You worry that you’re about to get berated but his features ease.

“Have you eaten?” the question startles you and you turn to look at Alfred again. He doesn’t say anything, just nods encouragingly.

You turn your eyes back to Damian, “Not quite yet, I was just heading home.”

“Will you accompany us to Batburger for an afterschool snack?” his entire question, and this entire conversation, throws you off. Damian didn’t seem the type to eat at a fast-food restaurant or have after-school snacks. He gives you an imploring look that reminds you he’s still just a kid.

“You know what? I’ve never been to Batburger, so you’ll have to tell me what to order.” You tell him with a grin. A pleased look crosses his features before settling back to stoic.

“Very well. Pennyworth.” At Damian’s words, Alfred steps out of the vehicle and you feel confused until he rounds the car and opens the back seat door for you.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that Alfred, sorry,” you flounder at making the old man get out of the car. He shakes his head and tips his hat at you again.

“Not only do I dress the part, miss, but I also play the part as well.” He says with a pleasing smile. You give him an embarrassed smile.

“Thank you,” you tell him as you slide into the back seat with Damian. Alfred closes the door and you’re surprised by how tinted the windows are. You settle back in your seat and buckle up just as Alfred returns to the driver’s seat. You turn to look at Damian and his book bag on the floorboards.

“How was school?” you ask, what you hope is a neutral question. He rolls his eyes, and you think maybe you missed the mark.

“The place is full of imbeciles and heathens. How they could call the place an education center is beyond me.” You try not laugh at his words, startling like everything else that leaves his lips.

“It can’t be that bad,” you try after quelling your laughter, “do you have a favorite subject?”

He gives you a hesitant look, “the art classes are quite enjoyable.” He tells you quietly.

“See, there’s always something good. Do you like drawing?”  you ask, trying to keep the conversation going

“Yes.” Is all he gives you. You nod, waiting for more but get nothing. After another beat of silence, he pulls his book bag open and takes out a sketch book. He flips through the pages before settling on one and giving you the book.

The drawing is quite romantic, which surprises you. Two figures standing together, gently leaning against each other. They dressed nicely. The man in slacks and a button up and the woman in a dress you swear you’ve seen before. They stand under a tree, faces pressed close like they’re sharing a secret.

“This is amazing, Damian. The detail is phenomenal, and you can almost feel the emotion.” You tell him, still scanning over the detailed sketch.

“I was going to give it to Todd. Though your approval of it bodes well.” Your brows pinch at his words.

“Why are you giving it to Jason? Why would you need my approval?” you ask meeting his eye and he gives you a confused look before a realization’s dawns on him.

“You don’t remember this then?” you blink at the question and look back at the drawing.

That’s why you know the dress. It was the dress you wore at the brunch. This was you and Jason at some point during your blackout.

“You saw this? me and Jason?”

“Yes. It was before you vomited.” He says nonchalantly and it makes you pause.

“I threw up?” you set the sketch down to press your hands to your face. How embarrassing you must have been during your blackout.

“I apologize. I forgot Jason left town. I had assumed he had filled in a majority of your memory before departing.”

An embarrassed warmth reaches your cheeks, “No. I still don’t remember anything.”

“I can fill in what I know…”

The rest of the ride Damian tells you what he saw. Jason bringing you food, Steph admitting to getting you drunk over a bet, Jason smoking and you trailing after him, the moment sketched, and the moment Jason rushed you inside. The next time Damian saw you, you and Jason were standing in the rain, embracing (Damian’s words), Damian shooting you with a water gun and managing to get you inside for a warm shower.

“I didn’t see you awake until the next morning. I did check on you per Todd’s request.”

It was a lot of information to take in. You were even more convinced that you told Jason you liked him. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

“Request? What do you mean by that?”

“He left.” He states plainly, “he asked me to take care of you, and he didn’t come back until breakfast. I didn’t think he would come back with how out of sorts he was, but you have some hold over him.”

You scrub at your face. You have had fewer than five interactions with Damian and every time he’s fed you information you hadn’t known about. You don’t want to take advantage, but between your blackout and the sudden radio silence from everyone, you wonder if he’d be willing to fill you in on other things. You intentionally ignore what he’s implying about Jason’s feelings for you to ask another question.

“Damian, did I do something bad at the brunch? Maybe something you weren’t there for but your siblings may have told you?”  You ask him and you catch Alfred flickering his gaze at you both through the rear-view mirror. Damian hesitates for a moment.

“You did not do anything wrong, per say. You were inebriated with no solid grasp on your emotional state.” He tells you. Vague and very unhelpful.

“Did I say something to someone in the family? If I did, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to scare anyone off.”

Damian gives you a questioning look as the car pulls to a stop, “in what are you referring to?”

You pause to think about how to phrase it without sounding angry with his family. You exit the vehicle before Alfred can meander to open your door. There’s a twinkle in his eye and you can’t help but think you’ve just challenged the old man. You and Damian walk across the parking lot as Alfred climbs back into the car and drives away. You’re confused about it but can only assume it’s a rich person thing.

“The girls have been ignoring me,” you finally find something, “well, not totally but their always busy when I’m not and free when I’m not. And of course, Jason left town but that was for work.”

Damian gives you a look like your wrong about something, “They feel guilty, mostly Brown, over the mimosa incident. Todd also told them they lost their ‘privileges’ on the threat of bodily harm.”

“What? When did he say that? Was it while I was drunk?” you ask trying to piece the timeline together still. If Jason had left right after you were asleep, Damian being the only one that saw him leave and didn’t come back til breakfast, there wouldn’t have been time.

“It was on patr-” he cuts himself off. You glance down at him from where you’re eyeing the menu and find him glaring at the tile floor like it had done him wrong. You try to decipher whatever he was going to say. Pat? Patchouli?? Petroleum??? None of those made sense in the way of this conversation.

“I see why Todd likes you.” He finally says instead, eyes shifting to meet yours.

“Why’s that?” you tilt your head at the statement, you didn’t even know why Jason spent so much time around you.

“Your easy to talk to.” He states and you nearly scoff. If that was true, you and Jason wouldn’t be sitting in this messed up relationship you had going on where you’re both lying to each other about something.

“Thanks, kid,” you tell him and promptly smack a hand against your mouth, “Oh jeez I sound Wally,” you mumble. ‘Kid’ was all Wally called you like it was an affection nickname rather than the thing you’d call a child. You got the feeling Damian probably wouldn’t appreciate being called that anyway, acting far more mature for his actual age most of the time.

Damian orders for you as you had requested. Three years in Gotham and you really had never been to a Batburger. You move to pay for it, but Damian beats you to it, waving a shiny black card.

“Father would insist.” He tells you and can’t help but wonder if that’s Damians card or one he’d taken from Bruce’s wallet. You choose not to ask.

Once you’re settled with your food and taken a bite of a surprising, delicious burger, Damian takes to questioning you.

“Whose Wally?” there’s an edge to his voice and you think your about to get a shovel talk about dating Jason.

“He’s a friend from home. Much too old for me too.”

He eases at your words, “and home is?”

“Oh, Central City,” it feels odd rolling off your tongue. You hadn’t told any aside from Darla where you were from and much less why you were in Gotham. Nobody had asked. Damian hums like he already knew that information.

“Do you like Gotham?”

You pick at your fry’s unsure of how to answer it, “Its not too bad. I’ve been kidnapped a lot more than I would’ve been in Central City. Some of the people are pretty good.”

“Like Todd?”

“I have a lot of emotions when it comes to your brother,” you sigh, “it’s complicated.”

“You hate him?” he asks quietly, and you blink in surprise.

“No, I don’t hate Jason, bubs, why would you think that?” Damian takes a bite of his fry’s instead of answering you.

“Is that what happened?” you tip your head trying to catch the boy’s eye, “Did I tell Jason I hated him?”

You think it might be a solid conclusion based on how everyone, not just Jason, was acting, especially after Cass told you not to be mad at him. The biggest issue is why? Why would you have told Jason you hated him? Even in a drunken state, it didn’t make sense. You liked Jason a lot, maybe more than like. You didn’t hate him.

“You’re correct. It is complicated. You did tell Jason that, but he told you something that made you say that.” You open your mouth to ask what, but he stops you, “It’s not my place and I shouldn’t have brought it up. My apologies.”

Jason had told you something? The truth, maybe, whatever he’s been keeping a secret from you, and you told him you hated him for it?

“It’s okay, Damian. I shouldn’t ask you things like that. You shouldn’t have to tell me about my own drama. I’m sorry for trying to pry it out of you.” You pause not liking the tense suddenly between you, “Why Batburger for your afterschool snack?”

He seems startled by your change in topic, like he expected you to keep digging. Damian was just a kid, and it didn’t feel right to harp on him about something that you were too drunk to remember. It was good to know that everyone wasn’t ghosting you because you did something embarrassing, they just thought you were upset.

You’d reach out to the girls again. You’d tell them you weren’t mad at them, you just wanted to hang out again, maybe guilt trip them with how lonely you’ve felt.

The rest of your afternoon with Damian was enjoyable. You learned a lot more about him than you thought he’d been willing to share. Why school was so boring (he had advanced learning when he was with his mother), that he was a vegetarian (which is when you learned the burgers you were eating were actually vegan), and that he had a friend named Jon from Smallville, Kansas.

Alfred brought you to your apartment building, Jason’s bike in its usual spot.

“Todd is back in town?” You blink at the question.

“He came back this morning,” you don’t mention that it was 2 o’clock this morning, “you’ve been in school all day that’s probably why you don’t know.” You say trying to ease the thought of Jason not having gone to see his family. Based on the look Alfred gives you, he didn’t know Jason was back in town either.

You gather your purse and sweater, “When’s the next family dinner?”

Damian turns from his stare at the bike to look at you, a glimmer in his eye and a small smirk.

“On Thursday, 6 o’clock. You remember what I asked of you?”

“Yup, have a game ready to play, not twister though. Watching just the girls play sprained my back. I don’t need to watch Dick Grayson play too.” You comment as your door opens. You blink at the driver seat and find Alfred missing. How did he move so fast?

“See you Thursday, Damian,” you say as you slide out of the vehicle, “Thank you for lunch and Thank you for the ride, Alfred.” You add.

“Anytime, miss, should you need it.” Alfred offers you a card, “The manor and my own private telly.”

“Oh, thank you,” you smile, a little surprised by the offering, “I’ll see you Thursday too then.”

You step away from the vehicle and wave to them before walking up the steps of the apartment building. The elevator dings just as you reach it and you’re greeted with a worried-looking Jason. You watch the emotion slip from his body when he spots you.

“Jesus, I thought something happened to you,” he mutters as he drags you into a tight hug. You squeak at the pull but hug him back.

“Sorry, I got caught up with Damian and Alfred.” He pulls back and looks at you like your crazy, “We went and got Batburger. Afterschool snack.”

His eyes scan across your face in a way that makes you think you’re hurt but you know you aren’t.

“Jay, why’d you look so worried?” You ask as you pull him back into the elevator, staying close.

“Well, you should’ve been home from work by know, thought something happened to you.” He says plainly, like it should be obvious.

You hug him again for his worry, arms curling abound his waist and you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His arms curl around your shoulders in what feels like instinct.

“I didn’t know I had a stalker.” You mumble without thought but you feel the way you both tense. For you it’s because you’ve only called one person your stalker before and that was Red Hood. Your mind had all but pushed Red Hood to the back of your mind these past few months but all of a sudden, he’s front and center again especially when you’re with Jason.

You don’t know why Jason tenses, maybe he’s worried you’ll be upset about it. You think back to what Damian told you. You tip back in your hug to meet Jason’s eye; face’s far too close for normal friends but you two had never been normal.

“I’m not mad at you,” you start, “and I don’t hate you, Jason.” You slide your hands up and down his back, trying to emphasize your words, “I could never truly hate you. You mean too much to me.”

You hear the door dings but neither of you move. You want to make sure Jason understands how you feel about him without being too spot on. You like Jason and you don’t know if you told him that while you were drunk. If you did, it was far over shadowed by the ‘I hate you’.

It’s only as the door starts to shut that Jason moves, hand stretching out to stop the door. He keeps one hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing gently at the skin of your collarbone at the edge of your shirt collar.

“Bold words, sweetheart,” he utters as he pulls you from the elevator. You don’t like the way he says the words, nearly degrading in tone but you don’t think it’s aimed at you. He pulls you out of the elevator and gently guides you to your door, like he had time and time again.

“Honest words. I want to do that more,” you tell him. It was a little freeing talking to him that morning about him leaving and about your sister. The accident had weighed heavy on your heart for years and you hadn’t realized how much about your life you were hiding from Jason.

“I want to be better about telling you about my past,” you continue, “I want you to be better about it too. All I know is you were born and raised in Gotham and that you’re adopted and you weren’t even the one that told me that. I don’t want us to have a superficial relationship, Jason.”

He seems startled by your sudden request, but he nods, “I think I could do that. If that’s what you want.”

“What I want is to prove to you that I could never hate you. So, I need to learn every little detail about you.” You fish your keys out and start unlocking the door.

“Sounds terrifying.” He admits but you can hear the way he tries to make it a joke.

“Sounds exciting too, doesn’t it?” You ask as you lean against the now open door to let him. He stands in front of you and brushes a stray fly away hair behind your ear.

“It does. You gotta ask questions, though. I don’t know if you want to know something if you don’t ask.” He gives you a pointed look and you wonder how long he’s had that thought.

You nod, “You too. I liked that you asked why I didn’t drink this morning. It made easier to tell you things.”

He finally steps away from you, and you turn to shut and lock the door. You turn back to meet him where he leans against the kitchen counter.

“So, my good sir, do we have deal?” you offer him your hand. He takes it and shakes it once.

“You have a deal.” He brings your hand up to his face and presses a kiss on your knuckles. A tingling warmth works its way up your arm from your hand as he keeps his eyes focused on yours. You suck in a breath, trying to gather yourself.

“So, what do you want for dinner?” you ask, and he lets your hands drop between you, not letting go, as he laughs.

“let’s see what you have.” He finally let’s go of you to search the fridge. You take his place against the counter.

“Also, on the note of dinner. Thursday at 6. Game night too.” He pauses at your words meeting your eye over his shoulder.

“What? You ask me out on a date?”

You laugh and hoist yourself to sit on the counter, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you repeat your words from that morning that had him flustered. His gaze drops back to the fridge, and you continue.

“Wayne Family Dinner. Also, you should let them know you’re back in town. Damian didn’t seem too pleased that he didn’t know you were back.”

“Damian’s never pleased about anything.” He grumbles as he starts pulling out your sparse ingredients. You really need to go shopping.

“He’s just a kid and most of his big brothers don’t even live at home. He just misses his family.”

He turns to look at you with far more sass than a man of his size should have, “and you’ve decided this from your, what? Two interactions?”

“Shut up, I can be good at reading people.” You scoff at him.

“Sure, what ever you need to tell yourself.” he comes to stand by you and in spite of what you’d call an insult he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“I can’t believe you,” you gap at him, and he lightly smacks the side of your hip.

“I can, get of the counter. You’re taking up precious workspace.”

“Yes, Chef. Whatever you say, Chef.” You bow with each phrase and evidently don’t move fast enough for him. His hands grip at your hips, and he picks you up off the counter, setting you the ground.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, mostly to hide the sudden harsh beating of your heart.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Cut the veggies.” He tells you with an eye roll

“Yes, Chef,” you shout and take the knife from him with a cheeky grin.

Additional Note: btw this is, like, the calm before the storm of the next few chapters. Theres gonna be a lot of drama again, I think. Maybe a little more backstory if I can figure out how to write it. It’s gonna be interesting. Thank you for reading!! Please let me know your thoughts on anything! ❤️❤️

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog, @dearghostling, @automaticplant, @alma-ru3, @13fresh, @anuttellaa, @nekotaetae, @redsakura101, @sleepy-head1, @aejabba, @asteria33, @princessbl0ss0m, @sinnamon-bunn, @wholelottalove05

[water-bottle-dont-sip]

I love the new tadc episode so much and the motivations/lore implications it revealed so a mini yap(hopefully mini)

I love how in this episode above all else we learned so much about Jax, a character that many had just seen as “being an asshole to be an asshole” a lot more is revealed here and one bit I wanna highlight is his apology sequences, especially with Pomni

I think Jax apologizing at the bar to her was probably motivated by that underlying want for connection with someone else, the guilt he tries to hide to keep up his facade (which even though he criticizes Ragatha for doing he very much does himself too. Just in the opposite side of the spectrum. His facade is not a kind one but a mean one to keep people away- while Ragatha wants to bring people closer)

And with his apology I feel like he’s trying to halt a sort of hatred Pomni could develop towards him, and I don’t mean the way she gets pissed at him torturing her and then she kinda keeps it as a mini grudge but nothing huge- I mean a long lasting hatred. Like Zooble, who has, the entire episode, been trying to get back at Jax for hurting gangle. (Valid)

And the reason he targets Pomni for this new friendship is for the same reason, she hasn’t been at the circus long enough to develop any long lasting hatred or distaste for him. She’s still impressionable towards who these people are, Jax hasn’t ruined his relationship w her completly yet.

And she’s also one of the more genuine people. I believe him and Zooble could get along if he wasn’t such a dick to Gangle. Zooble is honest in their feelings for the most part and they don’t hide it when something annoys or pisses them off, and they look out for their friends. If Jax hadn’t ruined the opportunity before hand maybe they could’ve been friends (but his fear to get attached and lose someone to abstraction is probably what led him to be so aggressive. I’m gonna assume that frog was the friend he lost and with that loss he probably made a switch in how he acted- almost immediately. If anything was developing he stopped it.)

You can’t dwell on the past when you’re always making a joke, laughing and smiling or getting someone else mad at you, their anger a sign you stand no chance of getting attached.

I think this is also why he has a sad/down expression when Ragatha finishes speaking about her past- before he immediantly cracks a joke about Kinger forgetting everything about himself and his past, a diversion from staying on a depressing topic.

And a topic about the past.

He barrates Ragatha for not loosening up and being more honest, he hates the performative nature of it. Yet he himself isn’t taking the time to digest his own feelings, seeing this constant joking as a way to “loosen up” despite the fact it’s just burrying his feelings and ruining the relationships he could build with those around him. Everything’s fine if you ignore the past, keep moving, keep going keep joking.

So back to Pomni- she has been pretty open about her emotions thus far, you can read her like a book. She’s cried a lot so far and has been very loud about her distress. Yet when Jax is being rude to her she might snap back, a sign that she’s not as pathetic as some other members (in Jax’s eyes at least. And by members I mean Gangle or even Ragatha from his point of view.)

(Gangle is easy to make fun of because she has little to no barrier to her emotions. And when does try to make one things just get worse. And Ragatha isn’t ‘brave’ enough to be herself, to be rude, to make someone feel bad! Being constantly kind isn’t a trait inherent to her, and Jax knows it. His comment about someone constantly telling you how much they love you tends to wear the effect down, he sees how Ragatha treats people as extremely fake because of this, she doesn’t FEEL like a person. Atleast how I think Jax sees it from her perspective)

(Back to the earlier topic) Pomni’s been a fun rag doll sure but she’s also been willing to just, talk to him. (Firefly scene) make a joke with him, and treat him like he’s normal, he hasn’t lost the chance for a friendship yet and as much as he fears that loss that befriending her may entail he’s (probably) desperate at this point.

He’s gone too far with his jokes and no amount of apologies can save him. At least for some of the group…

He probably tells himself it’s not a friendship he’ll get attached to. No, just a momentary thing to satiate his hunger for quick laughs and cheap thrills, besides, her honestymakes for a good show when placed in horrible situations.

He also enjoys using her to mess with Ragatha, maybe if he toys with her enough she can finally realize that being such a goody too shoes won’t get her anywhere but simply dig her grace deeper (ironic bc he’s doing the same in a way)

Pomni just happens to be the one in the middle, the one Ragatha felt she could connect to- finally someone new without any preconceived notions about her (sound familiar…?)

But with Jax wanting to be her friend it almost feels like losing Pomni, like Pomni was betraying her. Maybe that’s how Ragatha feels about the other members too, Gangle has Zooble, Kinger had his wife but now he’s basically insane, can’t hold a conversation, and she hates Jax with a passion.

And then a new person comes along, someone she may finally be able to talk to, be friends with. And the one she despises takes her as his friend, leaving her with no one. (How she sees it)

I also like the softball scenes where it illustrates how the two are fighting to keep Pomni as a friend/make her their friend. The line “I can think for myself” is a perfect way to describe how Pomni has just been thrown around for the majority of the show and has yet to be able to take full agency of her situation.

A close case of this is episode 4 where she decides to close and let Gangle go home. Yet that wasn’t even for her, just a decision she made for someone else, yet it was one she did out of kindness as she knew Gangle had had a long day. Taking in the responsibility of closing in order to help Gangle.

These traits of Pomni are something both Ragatha and Jax are looking for, Jax for a friend, and Ragatha for a friend and because it’s a trait she has to force, something that doesn’t come as naturally to her as she would hope.

I’d also like to note that Pomni not hating Jax isn’t just Jax’s view but is pretty close to fact, she doesn’t hate him, at least not as much over episode 5s runtime. When it was time to vote on whether or not Jax should wear the maid outfit she voted no. Most likely aware he would hate it. And he did.

(Maybe a stretch but it’s fiiiine)

Kinda long yap and got a little off topic but I haven’t stopped thinking abt the episode aaaa

There’s also more I might wanna write about this cuz I think I missed a lot (this episode was packed w stuff) but for now it’s good enough

[creepycranberry]

And So, Being Young and Dipped in Folly…

Bob Reynolds x single mom!Reader

Warnings: abuse, pregnancy loss, addiction, angst, not proofread

A/N: so here’s another bob x childhood friend thing, this is only part one (I think). Yes the title is part of an Edgar Allen Poe quote. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 4,444 words

—————————————————————————————————————

Bob didn’t really want to be here. It had been an offhand comment, he hadn’t meant anything by it and he surely didn’t think Yelena would remember it.

They had been watching Sweet Home Alabama. Yelena had never seen it and it was kind of a guilty pleasure of Bobs.

“Y’know, when I was younger I used to hang out with this girl who lived a couple towns over and every year we would go to the county fair together.” Yelena took note of Bob's faraway relaxed expression. It was rare for him to talk about anything from his childhood and look like he was nostalgic for it, “she used to hum this song, something about a little girl and her puppy getting caught in a storm.�� Bob hummed softly, “if you don’t love us, no one will/ i promise we won’t cry.” His voice was soft, low and kind of sleepy, “London bridge is falling down/ daddy’s drunk again in town.”

“Why would she sing that to you?” Yelena asked him, perplexed by the thought of someone singing him a song about neglectful parents.

“She just liked the song,” Bob shrugged, “she found it comforting for some reason.”

“Well what happened to the little girl?” Yelena asked.

“She died, her dog too.” Bob mumbled, “god knew Little Andy would be lonesome with her gone/now Sandy and her puppy dog won’t ever be alone.” He recited.

“But that’s so sad.” Yelena argued.

“Most old songs are like that.” Bob shrugged, “at least the ones she liked.”

“Something is very wrong with her than.”

“Maybe. The fair was fun though.” Bob shrugged.

He didn’t know that Yelena would take note of it, remember it.

And so now he’s in a small town in Florida, under the guise of Yelena needing to get something from someone. He basically does anything and everything to avoid looking out the window while Yelena drives.

He reads until he feels nauseous, he stares at the floor while his headphones drown out the sound of the wheels on the road, he makes it a point to not acknowledge the GPS in any way shape or form.

“Are you hungry?” Yelena asks him after a while, Bob shrugs, “you haven’t eaten since breakfast, we’re stopping to eat.”

Yelena stops at a diner, in a town that now looks insanely familiar.

“Where are we?”

“Surprise! County fair town.” Yelena smiles. Bob's face drops, “I thought it might be nice. Something to do together and something that might help out. I talked to your therapist and she thought it was a good idea.”

Bob swallows thickly, breathing slower. Maybe this could be a good thing? He liked hanging out with Yelena and it wasn’t like he was at risk of running into anyone he went to school with or his parents. This could be nice. He’d give it a chance.

“Yeah. It’ll be fun.” Bob smiles tightly and Yelena smiles.

“Come on, I am starving.”

———————

“You don’t get ice cream until you finish your peas.” You remind Lettie.

“I don’t like peas.” She insists.

“You liked peas three days ago.” You narrow your eyes, leaning over the table to meet her eyes.

“I only like Mimi’s.” She has a little accent, she gets it from spending so much time with your grandparents.

“Well Mimi isn’t here right now and you ordered those peas so you’re going to eat them.” You sigh, resting your chin in your hand.

She pouts, her little bottom lip jutting out. She hasn’t had a nap yet today and you are now dealing with the consequences.

“I don’t wanna eat ‘em.”

“You don’t have to eat them but if you don’t eat them you won’t get ice cream, you’ll have to wait until after dinner.” You explain for the fifth time.

“You know, if you eat all of your peas it’s good luck.” A thick accented woman at the counter chimes in.

She’s pretty, round face, blond hair and an amused smile playing on her lips.

Lettie looks at you, asking for permission to talk to the stranger. You nod and she looks up at the woman.

“How do ya know that?” Lettie asks her and the woman approaches the table, leaning down to get on Lettie’s level.

“Well when I was a little girl, everytime I ate all of my vegetables, dessert appeared. Sounds pretty lucky to me.”

Lettie looks skeptical, looking between the woman and you.

“Is that true Mama?” She asks you and you smile, nodding and trying not to laugh.

“Very true, baby.” You assure her.

“What’s your name?” The woman asks her.

“Lettie Mae.”

“Oh well that’s a very pretty name. I’m yelena, it’s nice to meet you.”

Your gaze drifts away from the woman and to the counter. The diner isn’t busy, it’s actually kind of quiet which is rare here. There’s a guy at the counter who’s faced away from your table. His hair is long and his T-shirt is stretched over the muscles in his back.

A waitress approaches him and he turns around to get yelena’s attention. Your heart basically stops and you feel like you’ve been punched in the stomach.

Fuck he looks good. He looks clean. Blue eyes and broad shoulders.

He’s stuck looking at you like he’s been caught doing something he’s not meant to be doing. And then he looks across the table to your daughter. And then back to you again. And then to Yelena.

“Why are you doing that with your face? They have that disgusting corn chip and chili slop that you love.” Yelena says.

“Hi Bob.” You smile awkwardly.

——————

Bob's brain is short circuiting. How the fuck do you look like that? It’s Been well over a decade and you look like that.

“He-hello. Uh- um hi.” He stutters, mentally cursing himself.

“You’re- you,” your cheeks burn red at your inability to finish a sentence, “you look good. You look clean, are you clean?”

Bobs eyes trail over you, stuck on your eyes and your lips and your collarbones and how your skin seems to be glowing, is your skin glowing? Are you glowing? “I- yeah. You look- I mean- um,” he looks to Yelena for help but she seems to find his malfunction amusing, “this is the girl I told you about.”

Yelena’s face brightens noticeably and she turns to you, “Bob told me about the fair and your weird song!”

Bobs face falls as he tries to will the floor under him to open and swallow him whole.

“My weird song?” You laugh nervously.

“The one with the girl and her puppy.” He offers and your face lights up in recognition.

“Me and little Andy. Lettie loves that one, don’t you baby?”

The little girl perks up with interest, “aint you got no gingerbread/ ain’t you got no candy” she sing songs, slightly off key but she’s too cute for it to matter all that much.

“Lettie, this is Bob.” You introduce him and he turns, waving to her.

“Like SpongeBob?” She asks him.

“Exactly like SpongeBob.” He responds and the little girl smiles a thousand watt smile that Bob can’t help but see you in.

“How long are you in town?” You ask him and he looks at yelena.

“Weekend, but we can probably stay longer if Bob wants.” Yelena responds and you nod. There seems to be a battle happening behind your eyes, you look at Bob, studying him closely as he stands before you. You look like you want end the conversation there, like you’re trying to fight the impulse to be nice to him because you were always nice to him even when you weren’t supposed to be.

“Would you like to sit with us?” You ask the both of them finally and before Bob can politely decline, Yelena speaks up.

“We would love to.” She smiles and immediately slides into the booth next to Lettie.

Bob slides in next to you, all nervous smiles and hesitant movements.

“How old are you?” Lettie asks him, her gaze piercing and intense for a little girl.

“I’m your moms age.” Bob shrugs.

She turns to you, whisper shouting, “mama, how old are you?”

You laugh and tell her your age, “how old are you, Miss Lettie?” Bob asks and she beams, leaning over her plate, abandoning her peas to the conversation.

“I’m six.”

“So you’re in school?” Bob asks and the little girl nods, “do you like school?”

“It’s okay. I like recess and reading.” She responds, picking at her peas.

“Those were my favorites too.”

You watch Bob interact with Lettie, he was surprisingly good at talking with kids. You should have expected it, seen it in his once gentle nature.

Maybe you’d thought of it once or twice, years ago amidst teenage naivety and roaring affection. before it actually happened, at the worst possible time, and everything went to shit.

You’re so caught up in watching the two of them interact that you don’t notice Lettie’s dad approaching. It’s his week, he’s moving states soon so he’s taking all of the time he can get now, before school ends and he has to leave.

“Hey sweet pea.” He smiles, and you look up.

“No peas!” Lettie declares and he gives you a look.

“We’ve been having a debate about peas.” You clarify for him and he nods.

“Makes sense. Who’re your friends?”

“Bob, yelena, this is Lettie’s dad Shane, Shane this is Bob and Yelena.” You introduce them and Bob looks up and smiles politely at Shane.

Shane’s eyes meet yours at the mention of Bob, a kind of look laced with confusion and hesitance “It’s nice to meet you guys, I’m just here to pick up Lettie.”

Lettie stands up in the booth, reaching for her dad and tucking herself under his chin.

“We skipped nap time today so she might be a little difficult.” You inform him and he nods.

“Okay, after B-E-D can I call you to talk about N-E-W Y-O-R-K?”

“Yeah, I’ll be home. Bob, hon, can I…”

“Yeah- oh yeah.” Bob stands up, stepping out of your way so you can say goodbye to your daughter.

As Lettie’s dad is carrying her out of the diner she looks over his shoulder, “Bye SpongeBob! Bye Lena!”

Bob waves awkwardly to her, trying not to feel too happy with his new nickname.

You and Bob sit back down and Yelena smiles at you, “she is adorable. Very polite too, kids don’t tend to be that polite.”

“That is all her, I can assure you. I mean I try to make her want to be polite and everything but she’s a social butterfly of her own means.”

“Her dad is moving to New York?” Bob asks, crossing his arms on the table in front of him.

“Yeah. He’s an English teacher and he got hired to work at some private school up there.” You respond, Yelena observes as you and Bob exchange looks before looking away from each other, just to come back one more time.

“I’m going to order food, Bob, you want disgusting corn chip pie?”

“Frito pie?” Bob clarifies and Yelena nods like he just said the same thing as her, “sure, Lena.”

Yelena gets up and you watch her walk away, “you’re not using.” You state again, like you’re surprised by it.

“I’m clean. Have been for a year now.” He clarifies as your face hardens slightly.

“You were scary, Bob.” You mutter.

“I-I’m sorry. I um, I wouldn’t have acted like that if I wasn’t- if I wasn’t so fucking gone, I promise.” He assures you, turning to you fully now to plead with your eyes directly, “I’m here now, fully. No pills or alcohol or weed or- or anything else.”

“Good.”

“You don’t have to let us stay here. You can tell me to fuck off and I will. I-I know who I was and what I did and what it cost you and you don’t-“

“You owe me the chance to know you.” Your tone is measured, soft but firm, “I want to understand why I let you put me through that.”

Bob's eyes just stayed fixed on you, like he’d never been able to see anything else, “whatever you want. I’m willing to give whatever you want.”

———————

Bobs been quiet since they left the diner. Yelena doesn’t think to ask what’s wrong, she knows he doesn’t want to talk about it by the way he closes his eyes and leans against the door. Like he’s begging for sleep to come.

He got like this sometimes, especially after talking to people. It was like they were all too much the second they were gone.

But his mood lasted the rest of the day. The Air BnB Yelena got was a few miles outside of town, on a quiet piece of land. The owner lived on another part of the land.

Bob was okay overall, he was quiet and calm and Yelena really just thought it was just social burn out.

It was half past 1 am and she woke up thirsty so she went to the kitchen to get water and maybe a snack. Bob was in the kitchen, tracing the top of a mug with his finger, seemingly stuck in his head.

“Bob?”

He doesn’t respond, he just sighs deeply and rests his forehead on the tops of his folded arms. His shoulders shake with something, something powerful.

She could picture the inside of his mind, nothing but inky blackness and projected self loathing.

“Bob, are you okay?” She rubs his back and he jumps, his red rimmed eyes finding hers, “what is going on with you? Is it about your friend? She seemed happy to see you-“

“She wasn’t- she wasn’t just my friend I- fuck- she-she has a daughter.” He rambles, “she got everything I took from her- I- god, I ruined everything for her and I don’t know if I can make it up to her.”

“Bob, you’re better, you’re trying to be better, she saw that. She wouldn’t have sat with us if she didn’t.” Yelena continues to rub his back as he babbles.

“I want to make things better, but she deserves so much better than anything I could give her.” He shrugs, resting his cheek on one of his hands.

“Well what happened? What did you do that was so bad Bob?” I’m sure whatever it is-“

“I got her pregnant.” He croaks, his voice a shell of itself, “when we were twenty and she would have been- she is an amazing mother. But I was gone, I was a drug addict drop out with no hope of ever being an involved parent. I was reckless and- horrible- terrible to her. I hurt her, she lost the baby and then I didn’t even- I didn’t even stop then, I just- I sucked her dry, I took everything away and then I left her.”

Yelena goes still, like if she doesn’t move the bomb that just dropped won’t go off.

But Bob doesn’t go on. He doesn’t tell her about the shame room where he watched himself, drug addled and reckless, opening cabinets in the crappy kitchen of your old downtown apartment. Flinging them open with reckless abandon until he opened one too close to you and cracked it against your head. He didn’t say anything about the fear that gripped him after, how he held you to his chest and apologized over and over, swearing he’d be more careful from now on and that it’d never happen again.

And he didn’t tell her how the only good thing he’d ever done for you was clean the blood off of the sheets and the bathroom floor after it happened. He didn’t tell her about the fights that happened after where you sat in front of him and begged him to be there or to talk to you but he just stared past you until the begging turned into yelling and yelling turned into another fight where he screamed back and scared you. And then you cried and he left and didn’t come back.

He doesn’t tell yelena how he still has dreams where you’re humming that dumb song to him, when he finally came down from a high and he spiraled himself into self loathing and babbled incoherently. He doesn’t tell her about your hands on his back, rubbing circles into the fabric of his shirt. The luxury of your voice humming in his ear, a cherished momentary comfort he finds himself going back to again and again.

Yelena doesn’t know how to respond now. She never really considered who he might have been in the throes of addiction. She didn’t much care, didn’t see the point in dwelling on it because she knew him now and that’s what mattered was helping him now.

“I’m gonna go for a drive.” He mumbles, getting up and taking the truck keys off the book by the door.

“You don’t have a license.” She calls after him.

“I can’t drink or do meth about this.” He calls back to her and that shuts her up.

She gets a drink and goes back to bed, leaving her bedroom door open just in case he needs her later.

Yelena’s starting to believe his therapist doesn’t know as much as she thinks she does about this.

———————

Bob ends up at a convenience store, the only place in town that’s actually open 24 hours. He gets a pack of cigarettes and a Dr Pepper.

He knew he shouldn’t smoke but it’s the one vice he sometimes allows himself to have. He sits on the tailgate and lights the cigarette, inhaling the smoke into his lungs like it might give him the hug he needs right now.

“Can I bum one of those off of you?” He hears a voice call behind him and he jumps.

“Make a fucking noise.” He laughs nervously and you smile up at him.

“Can I sit with you?” You ask him and he puts the cigarette between his lips, offering you a hand. He pulls you up with ease you find surprising, “thought you were clean?”

“I’ve been good for long enough and these are unprecedented circumstances so I figured I’d make an exception.” He sighs, offering the cigarette to you, “why’re you smoking?”

“Don’t have kids with anyone unless you think they’re gonna stick. Co-parenting sucks ass.” You blow the smoke into the air and breathe in again, relishing in the feeling of clean air after strong smoke.

“He seemed nice enough.” Bob shrugs and you smile.

“They always do,” you grin, “it’s more just court stuff that sucks. We’re trying to figure out how Lettie can see him regularly without me having to fly up to New York with her every other week.”

“That does sound like hell. New York isn’t all that bad though. She’ll like it once she gets there.” He assures you, offering the cigarette back to you, “what are you doing out so late?”

“I have a kid and she’s not with me. It feels like I’m missing a limb. Makes it hard to sleep or function on a basic level sometimes.”

“You like it? Being a mom?” He asks you, his gaze fixed upon the way your brows knit together.

“I love it. It’s really fucking hard but I was built for her. And her specifically. I don’t know if I could be someone else’s mom but she makes it feel easy. At least until bedtime.”

“She seems like a really cool kid.” Bob smiles, putting the cigarette out on the back of the tailgate.

“I think she is. Her dad thinks she is too but she has a hard time making friends.”

“She seemed just fine talking to me and Yelena.” Bob shrugs.

“That’s why I’m so confused. She seems perfectly sociable when she’s with me.”

“Sometimes kids are just mean.”

Bob has such a soft voice now, it didn’t used to be this soft. He used to be all hard stares and jagged edges.

“Yeah, and then Shane was not a big fan of me letting you meet her.” You say shakily.

“I cant say I blame him. Especially if he knows… everything.”

“He doesn’t know about that,” You say softly, “no one else knows about that. He just knows about the asshole part.”

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t be too keen on my kid meeting their moms ex-abusive boyfriend either.”

“Well what’s annoying about him getting mad about it is that he’s a total stoner, which is fine, but he’s taken her with him to buy the shit. At least you’re not actively high or anything.” You clarify, reaching out for him and holding onto his sleeve. He turns to look at you, focusing on your face. He traces the lines of it with his eyes and relishes in the feeling of the weight of your hand holding onto him.

“I can see that being frustrating.” Bob mutters, “Was he nicer than me at least?”

“Depends.” You shrug. Bob's eyebrows knit together and his head cocks to the side like a puppy. It makes you smile, he misses your smile.

“On what?”

“If we were alone or not.” You exhale slowly, “he didn’t want anyone to know we were dating. And then I got pregnant, even though I was on birth control by that point-“

“Learned your lesson, huh?” He mumbles.

“It takes two, Bobby.” The nickname sounds saccharine sweet on your tongue.

“I know. I was thinking more the lesson I kind of enforced, that sounded dick-ish, I’m sorry.” His cheeks burned and he looked away from you again, staring up and away from you.

“I get what you meant.” You bump his shoulder and he looks back to you, “but after I got pregnant he started trying to be an actual boyfriend. He sucked at it and we separated when Lettie was three months old.”

“He sounds like a dick, I mean I’m one to talk, I know, but… still.”

“You never hid me. I mean you were a lot of things and you did- a lot of things but everyone knew I was yours. I never had to question that.” You counter.

“I feel like in giving me that point you’re kind of just smoothing over a lot of other stuff.” He mutters and you nod slowly.

“Towards the end you were the worst, but when everything started you were- you were perfect.”

“Just because I wasn’t yet on meth or harder stuff doesn’t mean I was-“ he starts.

“You were attentive and straightforward and you loved me.” You interrupt.

“I- I got you pregnant and then I made you lose it-“

“The stress made me lose it. You never hurt me physically, jus-“

“Just mentally and emotionally and in every other way possible.” He snaps, “the stress I put you under made you lose it, I killed it. And I did hurt you physically- the cabinets.”

“That was an accident, Bob. I stepped forward as you opened a cabinet you didn’t mean to do that. And you weren’t the thing that was stressing me out- Bob I- I think you misremember a lot.”

“No, I remember it very clearly.”

“Bob, you yelled at me a lot and you would disappear for days. There would be times where you wouldn’t be able to get anything on time and you’d be irritable. It was one of those times when the cabinet hit me. I had rearranged the kitchen and you couldn’t find anything and you opened a cabinet while I was trying to show you where everything was. You didn’t deliberately hit me.”

“I did- I hit you with the cabinet because I was reckless-“

“You accidentally opened the cabinet at the wrong time as I was walking towards you. And then you cried and held me for the rest of the day. You apologized over and over again. Drunk or sober or high over the next month you apologized again and again. That was the only time you ever physically hurt me. Yeah you were deliberately mean and you would argue with me like hell- god I don’t think either of us stopped yelling for hours at certain points-“

“I yelled and you cried.”

“You cried too, a lot. You swore you didn’t have a problem when you were high and then you’d come down and be the most apologetic. It was whiplash inducing. What killed the baby was the stress of dealing with everything with my mom dying-“

“I stole your money- all of the time-“ Bob confesses, “I knew it was for her but I would-“

“I know, Bob. You told me every time, you’d cry and beg me not to leave you and I didn’t even when I should have. I blame you for a lot. You were not nice to me, you projected your self loathing onto me and you stole money from me and you argued with me like no one else. But I also knew you younger, before the drugs really took over everything and I want that guy back even if he’s older and a little more beaten up than before.”

“I don’t understand why you want to be my friend now.” He whispers to you, like he’s not supposed to say it.

“I want to know you now. I know what you are, Bob. I’ve seen you on the magazine covers and the cereal boxes, I know you’re different now.”

“I mean yeah, I’m different, I’m clean and all but I don’t actually help save anything, I’m just used for marketing.” He’s so honest right now, torn open and determined never to lie to you again.

Your eyes shine with a sort of affection he only ever remembers missing, you move a piece of hair out of his face and something buzzes at the base of his spine, “But I’m willing to bet that you help with laundry and dinner and you do the dishes and everyone knows that if they need to talk they can talk to you.”

His cheeks burn pink and he finds it hard to look at you, “you don’t have to want anything to do with me. If you change your mind ever, you can just say so.”

“I know.” You smile, “but I believe in second chances. I think you might be able to prove me right.”

“I don’t think Lettie’s dad is gonna be too happy about that.” Bob's eyes shine with humor as he unintentionally leans toward you.

“No. But I will be.” You smile.

[millersdarling]

jackson!joel x reader

summary: you wake up from a nightmare and, for the first time, you don’t feel completely alone.

warnings & tags: estabilished relationship, comfort after hurt, reader has ptsd, grief

a. n.: hello! this is my first short (very short) fic. sorry for any typos in advance, english isn't my first language :)

your scream could be heard from meters away from your room. no, not your room. joel’s room. it’s the first night you sleep together, and this is what happens. not that you’re worried about that. right now, your head is nothing but a massive swirl of fear, dread, and pain.

“hey, baby,” joel says, his voice soft as his hand gently slides along your thigh. as if he’s not sure he should even touch you. “baby, what happened?” you can’t speak. not now. not when all you can hear inside your mind are screams, muffled sobs. you see images of dead people, begging for help even though there’s nothing anyone can do for them. you hear the sound of gunshots aimed at the heads of people who aren’t entirely gone yet.

joel stays with you the whole time. eventually, he kneels behind you and wraps his arms around you from behind. big arms surrounding your body like a cocoon that might shield you from all the dangers in the world, even from your own mind. he doesn’t tell you to stop crying. he doesn’t tell you everything’s okay, because it hardly ever is. sure, things are better in jackson. since you arrived a few months ago, the constant fear of sudden death has lessened. but still, your past lingers behind you. and it always catches up, no matter how far you try to run.

in time, your breathing returns to normal. the shaking eases. your tears dry. “i’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice weak. joel still hasn’t let go, but he kisses the top of your head. “i didn’t mean to wake you.” “it’s okay, baby. do you feel better now?” you nod. as much as you can, yes. you feel better. with joel, it becomes easier. you haven’t been seeing each other long, just recently started getting close in a way you never thought you could again. you had a few things in the past, sure—mostly physical, not really romantic. joel is different. you haven’t crossed that line yet, just shared some kisses and gentle touches. he knows you’re not ready, that the months leading up to jackson changed you in ways you haven’t fully healed from. and still, this has been better than any relationship you’ve ever had.

“good,” he says, letting you go just enough to move in front of you. joel approaches slowly, giving you time to object if you don’t want him closer. you stay silent, especially when he kisses the tear-streaked skin on your face. “is there anything i can do?” he’s a sweetheart. even though he’s tried to hide it for far too long. joel miller is the sweetest man you’ve ever met. sweet. gentle. perfect. enough to make you want to burst every time he does something that leaves you speechless for an entire day.

you sniffle, wiping your eyes with your sleeve as he pulls back. “i’ll take that tea only you know how to make.” he smiles. joel kisses your forehead before standing and leaving the room.

you head to the kitchen a few minutes later. you watch joel prepare the warm drink while he hums some song older than you. when he finishes, he calls you to sit next to him on the couch, two mugs in hand. you sit beside him, curling up as one of his arms wraps around your shoulders. you drink the tea in silence. and somehow, that’s the best thing joel could do for you. stay.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

(You) Left a Mark

Pairing: Shigadabi (Getting together,), Dabihawks (Breaking up)

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Summary: Commissioned by an anonymous user. Enji was late to the mountain, and Toya still burned, but he was pulled from that fire by his father and spent years ignored in the hospital as his body was made to look right again, even if his quirk was never the same. And when he got tired of being ignored at home, he went out into the world with a new name and found a new way of supporting himself as he became a tattoo artist and piercer. He wasn't expecting to meet the new up-and-coming hero, Hawks, at that gig, and really didn't know he would end up in a long-term relationship with the bird. But after two years, there is a selfish fatigue that he feels starting to creep in as Hawks is so busy with his work that he's left wishing to have more of  his time and attention even though he knows he should be happy with what he already has. Or at least that's what he thinks before his chance meeting with Tomura Shigaraki. 

Contents: Past/Brief Child Abuse, Emotional Neglect, Hawks Bashing, Anti-Dabihawks (please do not tag as Dabihawks), Non-Villain!Dabi, Scarless!Dabi, Tattoo Artist!Dabi, Canon Divergent AU, Cheating, BDSM, Dom/Sub, Under-negotiated Kink, Dirty Talk, Blow Jobs, Premature Ejaculation, Cumming Untouched, Cum Eating, Bondage, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Sex Toys, Hand Jobs, Creampie, Bathing/washing, Aftercare, Breaking Up, Getting Together. 

Word Count: 24,829

He doesn't remember being pulled out of the fire, or the hours that he was in the I.C.U. in the hospital. He doesn't know the years he loses to a coma, just that when he wakes up in the hospital, his skin ruined, patches of it numb and others screaming with agony at the slightest prod, and his body so different from how it had been before he'd burned, that he isn't ever going to be the same again. He knows that it's one of his father's assistants who comes to tell him that his father is too busy with his hero work to come and see him upon his waking and that his siblings won't be visiting for a while either. Not until Toya has been treated and the scars and damage to his nerves has been dealt with. The next visitors he gets are juvenile prosecutors who tell him that the 'accident' with his quirk, while unintentional, did cause a massive fire that destroyed kilometers of wildlife and protected land. Because Endeavor spoke on his behalf, because his grades were so good before he burned, because they think that he's suffered enough-- especially given they now know things were also very bad at home, with Rei having tried to burn out Shoto's eye as she suffered a mental breakdown shortly after Toya's accident-- they don't want to have to arrest him. So instead he is going to live in quirk restraining cuffs until he's eighteen years old. It's not that long, they tell him, just another three years because he slept so much of his life away. And Toya is left in that hospital for a long time, the only people he sees are the nurses and doctors who try to put him back together and the tutor who appears twice a week on his laptop screen as he tries to recapture the education that he'd missed out on. 

He finishes with his treatments at seventeen, intensive plastic surgery taking away the scars that covered most of his body at the start, and his skin not hurting or going numb anymore. But there are small ripples in it, from the burns, from the incisions that had to be made to stitch him back together, but nothing that catches the eye from even just a few feet away. He still looks too much like his mother, and he still feels like a ghost when no one comes to pick him up the day he gets released from the hospital. He thinks that he might just be lucky that someone thought to send a cab to the hospital for him, because otherwise he would have had to trudge back into the building and beg one of his nurses for the fare to get home. 

No one thought about the fact that he wouldn't have a key to the house anymore, and even though he rings the bell, no one appears to be home, and Toya is forced to sit on the sidewalk outside of the gate until well after dark before his father arrives home. He looks up at him, seeing that nothing has changed in his face except that he is more openly disgusted with him now than he had been before he'd set the mountain on fire, and all Enji says to him after all of that time was, 

"Don't you ever embarrass me like that again." Before he opened the gate and walked inside, not waiting to see if Toya had actually managed to follow him inside or not. He hadn't felt fire rush through his veins like that since the mountain, having been so numb to everything that happened afterwards for years now. But he was furious when that was all his father said to him. He had shot up from the ground and he had raged. The cuffs at his wrists were the only thing that kept him from turning the house into an inferno as well, as he screamed his fury for anyone and everyone nearby to hear. But there wasn't anyone else to listen to him, just as there hadn't been all of those years ago, and all his father had done was calmly walk back to him and bring his hand across Toya's face hard enough that he had been knocked to the ground, black spots blurring his vision. Then he had turned and gone right back into the house. 

He stayed on the ground for a long time after that, and when he was finally able to make himself stand, it was as Dabi, Toya thrown away and left to burn up in the memory of a childhood promise that the world, his genes, and his father had not managed to keep to him. 

///

Enji hadn't cared what he did when he left the hospital so long as he didn't draw attention to himself or destroy his siblings who had better futures laid out in front of them. Shoto was still completely isolated from the rest of them, but Toya’s relationship with Fuyumi was damaged beyond repair when she kept asking him to apologize and make nice with their piece of shit father so that they could be a 'happy family’ again. Natsuo was still ride-or-die with him, blaming Enji for what happened and being so ready to be away from the house as soon as he was old enough to be, looking into colleges and scholarships for years, intending to get a full ride as soon as he could and get out of the house and away from Enji, but five years apart still left their marks and Dabi couldn't click with his brother the way he thought he had when they were younger. He didn't have prospects for going to college, even though he had graduated by using online programs, his doctors had said that he might need an adjustment period as he left the hospital, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to get any kind of scholarships, nevermind him sinking so low as to ask for his father to give him the money to go to school. So instead, within a week of being back in his father's house, he was on the street every goddamn day looking for work. 

His first job was in a convenience store. He took every shift he legally could, and a few more that he got paid for under the table as he often exceeded fifty hours a week. He just wanted to save up his funds as much as he could. His father didn't care about paying for things within the house to be maintained, so while he was living there still, he was able to save every yen he made, going and setting up a bank account at a firm entirely separate from the one he knows the Todoroki accounts are in, so that he would be certain that his father wouldn't touch that money or even know that he was making any at all. 

He dyed his hair black, he started dressing how he wanted to instead of the way he had been forced to by his family growing up, and somewhere between all of the work, between the nightmares that still ravaged his mind every night when he was sleeping, he decided that he just didn't want to leave anything of Toya left in him when he looked in the mirror. It was a slow process, one that took over a year to complete, the quirk cuffs coming off and Dabi being warned that any other incident would land him directly in Tartarus for the destructive nature of his quirk, before he had metal littering his skin. Piercings along his ears, in his nose, snake bites, studs through his nipples, cock, and tongue, and dimple piercings in his cheeks. When he had so many that his manager at the convenience store had been put off by them, he'd made up some bullshit excuse and fired him. Dabi went back to the piercing studio and asked if they needed anyone to do anything there, and after being pointed in the right direction of what education he would need before he could start working at a place like that, he’d had a new goal to follow. It took him another year, Fuyumi moving out to go to college then, before he had been ready to actually become a piercer and be able to just work the counter at a place. 

It was another three years of his apprenticeship, and a lot of luck that saw the requirement of needing to have a medical license being  overturned, allowing Dabi to become a tattoo artist as well. He didn't think that he would want to do that, not ever thinking that he had a creative bone in his body. But he'd given it a try and found that while, even after years of artist studies of form, anatomy, and color, he was not the kind of person who could do a still life, a portrait, or anything even vaguely resembling a human form. He could imitate those things when people came in wanting a specific thing, and that's what he did most of the first year that he was working on people. And then he had been bored during one of his shifts and he'd rolled up one of his pants legs and gone at his skin with a sharpie for a while. They didn't have any walk-ins, only one person there and with Simon as planned, so he finished freehanding the design and stared down at his skin. The contrast between the sharp lines, the areas he knew he would fill in with thicker black, the thinner swoops of lines that would be shaded in a wider stippling, the way that the volumes and forms of the shape conformed to his leg looked... right. They looked like absolutely nothing, but it was the kind of nothing that he thought abstract art was supposed to be, and he had been quick to get Simon's feedback on the design, 

"It looks good. You finally gonna try something over your scars?" They're not very noticable from a distance, but they are still there and Dabi had hesitated getting any ink beyond a single smiley face on the inside of his wrist because he hadn't been certain at the start that he wanted to cover them up. He didn't want to have the evidence of everything that he'd gone through taken away from him. But looking down at the design creeping across his leg, he knows that he would regret not capturing it in his skin as he sees it.

It's a whole production to get his station set up and make sure he doesn't damage the ink too badly as he actually properly preps his skin for the tattoo he hadn't actually planned on giving himself. But he spends the rest of his shift with his needle buzzing in his hand, the pain of it sinking into him over and over again more than worth the elation that he feels as those lines start to come into sharper focus as they turn real on his flesh. By the time he's done and Simon is taking pictures for him while it's still raw and vibrant, Dabi doesn't know if he's ever felt... prouder of anything else he's ever done. 

He takes care of the tattoo as it heals, and before it has, the shop has already gotten an email and a few DMs on their social media account from people who want to have his freeform art adorning their skin. And suddenly Dabi is actually making a name for himself in small circles.

He still doesn't make enough money to afford anything elaborate, but the day that Natsuo moves out to go to college, Dabi leaves too, living in a tiny apartment above a Yakitori restaurant that always smells like burning, but that's his, with no ties to his father and no parting words exchanged between them. And that's good enough for him. 

///

Dabi is twenty-two when a blond guy with dark marks around his bright gold eyes comes into the shop. He is short, pretty, and clearly nervous as he enters the building. He's probably a year younger than him and when he comes up to the counter he gives him a bright smile that doesn't hide that he's nervous the way that people often are when they come into the shop for the first time. 

"Hi."

"Hello, do you have an appointment?" Dabi knows he doesn't, but he asks as a matter of protocol, knowing that their only appointment today is already back on one of the tables with Simon, in for an eight-hour appointment as he works on the shading of his back piece. 

"Oh, uh, no, do I have to have one? I didn't know. I thought that something simple might just be a walk-in if it's simple?" He shifts his weight on his feet and Dabi gets that vaguest touch of... familiarity that he doesn't know how to place as he looks at this guy who he was pretty sure was a stranger. 

"What simple thing do you want as a walk-in?" He asks, leaning his hand on his chin and looking as uninterested as possible as he tries to place how he knows this guy. 

His face goes red. "Oh! Uh, I don't mean to be rude. I just-- I wanted my ears pierced? I thought that might be simpler than like, all of that," he gestures to Dabi's body and his numerous visible piercings, and then, when he realizes that might also be rude, he goes even redder. "I mean--!" 

"Lobe piercings or something else?" Dabi asks as he straightens back up nonchalantly. 

"Just my lobes," he tries to clarify as Dabi moves around the counter to lead him back towards the piercing area. "I have a set of earrings I'd like to use-- they're 24 karat gold. What I read online said that would be fine for a first-time piercing?" 

"Yeah, that works, come take a seat and I'll take a look." Dabi focuses on the task at hand, trying not to choke on his tongue when he sees the jewelry box that the guy pulls out from his jacket pocket and the name of the store that he got them from. No doubt that the rubies in them are real and worth more than Dabi makes in a year, and that the quality of the gold is equally as exceptional. Piercing his ears doesn't take long, not when it's something that he's so practiced at and he's gotten so good about getting the marks for the holes symmetrical on the first try. Soon enough he's got the ruby studs in the guy's ear and he's bringing him back into the main area and over to their aftercare section, getting him a saline solution and the little pamphlet that they give all of their customers that has information on how to care for their new modifications, and what to look out for in case of rejection or other complications. By the time he's checking him out, Dabi is a little disappointed that he uses cash to pay instead of a card, but he plays it off lightly as he gets his change, saying, 

"Guess I'm not gonna get your name then." 

And the guy, his nerves seeming to have abated from his earlier fumbling, sounds much more sure of himself when he says in return, "I'd be happy to give it in exchange for your number." 

Dabi doesn't know if it's to satisfy his curiosity or to reward that absurd boldness, but he gives it. He's not expecting to be told, 

"Hawks," in exchange. 

But when he gets a text three days later asking if the number three hero in the country wants to meet up for coffee, he is curious enough to go. 

///

Dabi hadn't been sure that he'd wanted to date a hero at first. Especially not when he avoided telling Hawks that he was Endeavor's son, but the hero never told him his real name either, so he figured that put them on even ground in some ways. And Hawks was... fun. He was loud and vibrant, eager for every good experience that he could have outside of his hero work, though that wasn't really a surprise. He was always working so hard at it, he had to be to end up as number three in just two years after his debut, and Dabi wasn't about to knock that. He'd gotten further than Endeavor had when he'd started his climb and Dabi was more impressed with that than he liked to be. 

Hawks has two apartments, and after a year of dating, Dabi moves into the second one. At first it felt like they were living together. Sure, most days, most nights, Hawks was out grinding through hero work, but when his shift was over he flew back to the apartment hard and fast, shedding his hero clothes and becoming nothing but a cuddly, clingy, useless bird. He couldn't cook for shit and would have probably died from eating nothing but fried chicken, so Dabi always made him food when he was home and packed extensive bentos for him when he went to work, sometimes several days of meals if he knew that the other man would be working multiple back-to-back shifts. He continued to work as a tattoo artist primarily, and Hawks was a hero, and in their little apartment that was nothing like the lavish penthouse that Hawks always said just 'didn't feel like him' they had a little life together. 

And that was alright, for a while. But the thing about hero work is, and he should have known this from the start, is that it never slows down. Hawks will always have the same amount of work to do because there will always be crimes in Japan. He will always have to go out on the press circuit and flash his pretty smiles at cameras and wink at his fans, never telling them that he's gotten into a relationship, let alone with another man, because he is, for all intents and purposes, an idol while he's still in his prime. He wouldn't be able to announce a relationship until he's in his thirties and even then, the backlash that would come and tank his public opinion scores if that wasn't just an announcement of marriage would be so stark that even when they hit their two year anniversary, there is no chance of that becoming public knowledge. 

Dabi knows about the game that gets played so heroes can stay on top, and the ways they can go after each other so viciously behind the scenes if they think that's something they need to do to get to their own satisfaction. He knows that this all is just the way things are, and he tries to make himself okay with that. Hawks doesn't really care about those numbers, he just stays in the top ten because he wants to do as much good as he can for the world and being the fastest hero in the country means that he can do more than others. 

And the days that Dabi spends alone in the apartment, the hours he spends cooking and then cleaning out spoiled food from tupperware when Hawks gets called in for a team-up out of the blue that stops him from coming home, how he hasn't told anyone who Dabi is, so he can't even drop off the food at his agency, all of it starts to weigh on him.

But Hawks is fun. It's nice when he's home, and Dabi doesn't want to lose those good moments. So he endures the long stretches of silence in the apartment. He makes due with being a dirty little secret, a private house husband when he's around, and--

"Fuck!" Hawks has always been loud in bed. From people noises to bird noises and coos that Dabi has gotten used to. His back has marks on it from being slashed up with the sharp black talons that curve out of his nail beds and Dabi has taken a wing to the face more than once because of how they can spasm and flap when Hawks is feeling good. Dabi likes to do that, likes that when the hero cums, he finally relaxes, he coos at him and allows himself to be pulled into the bed to stay for a few hours, even if the cuddles are typically preceded by Dabi preening him. 

Dabi spent nine hours today working on a client, his neck, shoulders, and hand are already sore as hell, but it's the first time in two weeks that Hawks has actually come back to this apartment, usually crashing in the other one because he didn't have the energy to try and lose any tails he might attract to come home to their real apartment, or sleeping in his office instead. He wanted to come home and make them dinner, to be sure he cleaned up the food that he'd made that had gone uneaten and made a new week of meals for the other man to have as he goes back to work tomorrow afternoon. And the orgasm is nice, getting to lay together closely in bed is nice, but by the time they are settled, Dabi doesn't feel like he's said more than a few dozen words since Hawks got home, the other man slipping out of work, but never slowing down in talking about what he's been up to.

"I can't believe I'm finally going to have my first team-up with another top ten member." His wings flutter lightly and Dabi wants to be excited for him, but there is a headache starting in his forehead and even though he wants to stay up and talk to the other man about whatever he wants, he has another early start tomorrow. 

"When are you going back in?" He asks, because of the things Hawks has told him so far tonight, that wasn't something important enough to bring up. 

"Tomorrow afternoon," he wraps his arms around Dabi's waist and flutters his wings, beaming up at him, "So you've got me all to yourself until then, hot stuff." 

Dabi blinks, then frowns, "I told you, I have an appointment coming in at nine-thirty tomorrow." He tells him, watching his face fall and his feathers un-fluff. "They've been waiting three months, I can't reschedule it." He says it more gently, but it still makes his chest ache awfully as he does. 

"Oh, well, it's work. I get it." But for the first time tonight, Hawks stops talking about his own work and Dabi stews in that quiet for a few minutes before he reaches over to his phone and shoots off a text to that client, asking if they can come in at one instead because an emergency has popped up on his end. He apologizes profusely as he lies, but not long after the text goes out, his client responds with a very sweet message wishing him the very best, and saying that she would be happy to reschedule entirely if he needs the time to take care of his 'emergency'. The kindness and understanding only makes him feel worse, and Dabi knows he'll be giving her a discount and taking the cut from his pay to pay back that kindness. 

"She was okay with rescheduling," Dabi tells Hawks, reaching back to his wings and starting to pet them again, the feathers a little stiff under his hand at first, but softening as he hears those words. "I can stick around until you go back to work." 

Hawks lifts his head off of his chest and beams. "Great! Because you know how I love to go into another long shift very relaxed, hot stuff." His voice takes on a salacious purr and Dabi regrets not asking his client to come in at two instead, because working over his lover in the morning after also giving it to him tonight is going to leave him exhausted and not energized the way that sex seems to work for Hawks. 

Still, he smiles. He's just glad that he can be someone that the hero relies on so much. 

///

"You look like you're about to drop dead." Simon tells him the next night as they're closing up. "Boyfriend finally deign to show up?" 

It's so automatic at this point for Dabi to respond, "His work--" that when he turns around, he sees the other man is mimicking him, continuing where he drops off, 

"'keeps him so busy. He makes time to come home whenever he can.' Right." Simon rolls his eyes. "And did you actually manage to talk to him about going to the convention in Kamino?" 

Dabi winces slightly. He'd gotten accepted eight months ago, and in the four times that Hawks has been home, there was so much happening that he wasn't able to actually talk to him about it. "No-- but he's going out of town again for another trip. I shouldn't have any problem going to the guest spot." And he will tell Hawks. He'll leave him a message and send him a text, and he'll know he has his own work things to see to when he leaves. He had debated submitting an application for years and finally worked up the courage to do so eight months ago. It was an honor and a miracle that he had been selected to be one of the twenty featured artists who are going to be present at the event. He can't give up an opportunity like this. 

Simon huffs softly, shaking his head as he continues to make sure his station is fully sanitized and ready for the next morning, and Dabi tries not to let that sour something in his gut. 

///

When he does call Hawks, he doesn't answer the phone, and when he texts him explaining the situation, it takes six hours to get a response. Dabi has already finished packing his suitcase and is now focused on making sure that there isn't anything in the apartment that will get gross if he's gone. He's taking the meals he made out of the fridge and putting them in the freezer as he realizes that Hawks was in such an excited rush to go off to his debriefing that he didn't bother to pack them so he could take them to work with him. 

Birdy: 'Aw, what?? ☹️ I always get so lonely when you're not around. Who's going to make the best karaage in the world if you're not home?'

The sentiment, while it might have felt more sweet if he weren't currently packing away the meals he spent hours making before the other man had come home yesterday, feels like it rings against something discordant inside of him. He tries to put that out of his head and focus on what he's doing and the response he pens as he sends it. 

Dabi: 'Sorry, pretty bird. All of the meals I made are in the freezer and I made sure to clean the apartment.' He hasn't yet, but when he sees he doesn't need to head to the train for another hour and a half, he figures that he can manage that as well. 'So everything will be good for you if you manage to come home ahead of me. Love you, stay as safe as you can.'

He has already gone and put their sheets in the wash and has started to vacuum by the time that Hawks manages to reply again. 

Hawks: 'It still won't be the same without knowing you're there .💔💔💔'

And that only makes Dabi's chest hurt a bit more acutely as well. But... this is a big opportunity, and he can't cancel it at the last minute or he'll risk not ever getting invited back to one of these events. Not to mention that he already has clients lined up for some of his time slots, including one who has agreed to be his canvas for the competition aspect of the convention. He should have told Hawks about all of this when he'd come home instead of putting it off to find a better time. But as he shoots back one last apology, he determines that the next time they're both home, he'll just put in the extra effort to make that time special. 

///

Registration and check-in start at two on Thursday, and he goes to get his badge and papers that will allow him to check into the hotel accommodations that were provided for special guests, featured artists, and other talent that has been booked for the convention. It's not an elaborate room in some fancy hotel, just a suite in a moderate chain, but the fact that his travel and his room were comped because they wanted him to come to this even the fact that he has a lanyard, badge, and wristband that say 'featured artist' on them, all fills him with a giddy excitement. He goes and gets lunch, really dinner by the time he's fully settled in, and eats as he goes over the information he was given at the door, the map of the convention hall, and the schedule that the organizers sent to them. He can go in and start setting up an hour and a half before the doors open and his first booked appointment isn't until tomorrow at noon, so he should have time to take a few simple walk-ups if he gets any. Every day there will be a judging for the best tattoo started and completed that day, if the artist wants to submit to it, but that is separate from the other competitions that are going to be happening on Saturday and Sunday which include over twenty different categories that can be submitted to, covering everything from size, to style, lettering, or color, what gender their client is, and more. Dabi goes over his laminated booklet of designs that he has ready as space fillers and flash tattoos, but he is glad that he has a few clients who have already specifically reached out to get some of his more elaborate freehand work for the rest of the weekend. There will be plenty of press at the event, or so he has been told, and lots of other people involved in the industry, including companies that he would love to be noticed by and get his work featured on their sites as well. There are only three or four conventions like this in Japan a year at most, and he wants to make the most of it. If he can, then he might get invited to go to other ones overseas. He could travel, make a name for himself entirely independent of his past. A legacy all his own with nothing to do with his father. It's something that hadn't been as important to him when he first left as just getting away was. But the thought now makes him sit up a little straighter and his mostly dormant quirk heats his skin a little warmer. 

Dabi can hardly get to sleep that night from how excited he is to go in the next morning. 

///

Check-in in the morning is a little rocky, something to do with having to make a last-minute change to how some of the tables were set up in the artist alley. It's only a ten minute delay, but he's not the only person who has arrived early to start getting set up, and the line grows and grows in that time. But once they do get inside, the map seems accurate and he's easily able to find his station. This is his first convention, and while he tried to talk to other people who had been to them before, he hadn't had the funds in his account to do something very elaborate for his area. Other people have banners, multiple binders or other creative displays for their work, and the like so that people will be able to see their area from a good distance, but Dabi could only afford, and be able to travel with a large poster he got made at a copy store that he unrolls from its tube and then has to duct tape it down along the edges so that it doesn't curl back up and pop off of the frame he sticks it on. It has his name and a couple of pictures of his work, and the single binder of designs he has is all he needs to put out for that part of his set-up. Then it's all about preparing his station for when the doors finally open. 

///

Dabi should not have been worried about not being able to book people. He had been, in the back of his mind, terrified that he would only have his pre-booked clients come to his chair and otherwise be left alone, watching as other people worked, and go home with nothing to show for it. But as soon as the doors open almost every available chair is full as people mill about. There are other events and entertainment throughout the day and Dabi hopes he gets to take a walk around when he takes his lunch break, and the convention center fills up with people who are visiting the other vendors around as some come straight over to their area and start to line up to get tattoos from the artists available. His flash tattoo designs are popular, but that seems to be the case with everyone else present as well, and he's glad to see Simon's advice on pricing has kept him from asking for too little or too much for the convention. He knocks out a few of the little flash designs before his scheduled client comes in, showing him, in person, the series of scars along his thigh that he wants worked into and covered up by Dabi's abstract work, and while they'd talked size, color, and concept, when Dabi starts to work on his skin, he goes at it with marker first just like he did his own limbs, all four now having full sleeves of his winding artwork, though Simon did have to put him in touch with some weird guy who could make clones of people. It had to be all off the books since only heroes are allowed to use their quirks to make money, but Dabi was happy to pay the money to have himself do the work along the parts of his skin that he couldn't reach, knowing that turning over the work to another artist wouldn't create the same ink-splash effects that he would with his own hands. 

And as the lines start to flow so easily, he is able to ignore the clutter of so many other people milling about and the buzz of over a dozen other needles working around him. He just focuses on what he's doing, focuses on talking to his client, and when it's time for him to put his own needle to skin, all he's thinking of is the next curve of his wrist that will bring the design he sees spiralling through his head to life. He gets into the zone, through the walk-ins and his appointment, and by the time he comes up for air it's only when he has a pounding headache and realizes that his stomach is aching and hollow. He puts up his sign that says he's going to step away for lunch, and upon realizing how much he's actually made today and missed a check-in text from Simon, he's glad to shoot him back a message that tells him things are going well.

There are a few places to eat around the vendor's hall and he goes to get in line with some of the other patrons, a little scandalized at how expensive the meal is, but at least it puts something in his stomach. He walks around as he eats, looking in on some of the other vendors, just to stretch his legs and stand up straight for a little while, and with the food in his stomach, chased by some pain medicine, he takes down his sign and prepares himself for the next wave of people.

///

Dabi slept like a rock when he got back to his hotel room, and when his alarm goes off the next morning he is so exhausted that he suddenly understands why Simon said there was not a chance in hell of him ever applying to do another convention gig again. But the money is great and the amount of people he had going through his station and absolutely thrilled over the results was also great. He saw so much wonderful work at the hall, and talking shop with other artists who studied different techniques or who use different equipment to achieve their style has only made him more excited about how his craft could expand in another three or four years. 

So when he opens up his booth today he's prepared for what he needs to do, and he's pleased when he has the first person in the hall make a b-line for him. The guy who approaches him is wearing a white button-up shirt, black slacks, and a dark red blazer, his long wavy white hair cut into a shaggy style that has pieces falling across his forehead and against his cheeks. His skin is pale, but his eyes are bright and shine like rubies as he comes right up to Dabi's table. 

"Hello," He greets, a light rasp in his voice. 

"Hi, Dabi," He introduces himself, reaching out to shake his hand. 

"Tomura. I was wondering if I could get an estimate for some detail work? I have a presentation at three, so if you're not booked, I'd love to also get that done today, if not now, then later this evening I should be finished by five." Judging for today doesn't even start until  seven and the convention is open until midnight, so Dabi figures this all should be good to go. 

"Sure, can I see the area? And do you have anything in particular in mind?" He lets him around into his booth so he can take a seat and the man shrugs off his blazer and opens the buttons on his shirt. Dabi has seen a lot of people's bodies over the years, and he's not going to say he's immune to seeing someone particularly attractive or particularly fit stripping out of their clothes, but he does know how to separate that from the professionalism that he always tries to handle his clients with. Still, seeing the other man open his shirt so that he can expose his well-muscled chest and abs, the only ink a large blacked out circle over his chest, a simple but strange image, is not entirely unmoving. 

"I got this a few years ago, but I don't think it's complete yet. I saw your work around and I like the flow of it. I was thinking maybe some splashes of ink going around it and up towards my collar bone? Maybe make it look like it has some kind of gravity to it?" 

It's a larger space filler, but honestly, if that's what the guy wants, Dabi will be more than happy to do it. He would love to work on something with that kind of style to it. "Yeah, I can definitely do that." The doors opened at nine and if he were doing the blacked out area as well as the design arching around it, then he doesn't think that there would be a way in hell that he would actually be able to get it done before he needs to leave, but he should have plenty of time to get this done if the guy likes his initial sketch. Tomura takes off his jacket and shirt to keep the fabric out of the way and he sees that he has a forearm sleeve on one side that is an elaborate field of forget-me-nots with a white cat laying at the center, and the other shows an impressionistic wolf chasing a rabbit. They go over what they need to, from pain tolerance to relevant medical history, asTomura folds his clothes over the back of the bench, and then they get started. "What's your presentation about?" He asks as he sets things up and gets his gloves on. 

"I'm here on behalf of La Vénus," and when Dabi doesn't have a reaction to that, he continues, "It's a sex club downtown." He explains. 

"Oh," Dabi blinks, his face heating slightly. "I didn't know there was one of those here." 

"It's only been open for a year and a half, but in addition to our nighttime activities, we also offer classes for people who are looking to learn how to engage in kink safely. I'm giving a brief presentation about ways people can not only approach kink at the start of their journey, but also how to introduce that to a partner if they aren't on the same page as them." 

"Is it always a hard sell?" He asks, genuine in his question. Most people here are living some kind of alternative lifestyle, he's not about to alienate someone or potentially get put on the wrong person's shit list by being dismissive about the wrong subculture. 

"It depends on the partner. Not every kink will be for every person, but a good partner, and a strong relationship, will meet a request from a place of understanding instead of disgust and shame, and hopefully there can be a way of working together to find something that all parties involved can enjoy. And if there isn't any of that communication, understanding, or attempts at empathy, and the asker really does want to have and doesn't think they can be happy in the relationship without it, then maybe it's time to thank the partner for what they were able to give them and move on to what other opportunities are out there for them." 

"Yeah, guess that makes sense." 

"I'm also going to be talking about basic introductions like what BDSM means, kinks vs. fetishes, different types of domming and subbing styles, I think the panel is called 'Kink 101'-- I was a last minute swap-in for my riggers who were supposed to be here putting on a performance art piece.One of them got clipped by a cyclist and took a tumble at just the wrong angle off of the curb and broke his foot."

"Ouch, I hope that he has a quick recovery, and it's great that you were able to step in on short notice." 

"He's in high spirits about it." 

Making conversation with people is about half of the job, and over the course of the next two and a half hours that Dabi works over Tomura, they keep up a steady, comfortable stream of chatter. The design takes shape easily, turning into curved lines of ink that meet in sharper points along their apexes, gaps between the thicker black sections like the ink is being pulled apart as it is drawn from the skin and into the circle at the center of his chest. Light dot shading gives some areas additional depth that gives it a three-dimensional effect that makes the illusion even more apparent. And by the time he's done, he's very pleased with his work. 

Dabi gives it its final wipe down and Tomura is perfectly happy to linger for pictures before he starts to get out his stuff to wrap up the fresh tattoo.

"Oh, no need." And before Dabi can say anything about how absolutely necessary it is, he watches as Tomura's skin heals. It goes from shiny and red with irritation, to thin scabs forming, hardening, flaking away, and then to clean, unblemished skin, the tattoo looking like it's months old instead of minutes in a handful of seconds. Tomura meets his eyes as he takes a wipe to get rid of the plasma and ink that leaked out and the flakes of scabs from himself, "Regeneration quirk." He explains with a shrug. "I'm just glad that it doesn't work so well it completely destroys them." 

"Yeah, that would be wild," Dabi says, as if meeting someone with a regeneration quirk alone isn't already insane. Natsuo has ranted at length about how people with regeneration quirks are nearly forced to go into hero studies so that they can be used as field medics instead of sending them to hospitals where they could consistently help people instead of being on standby all the time for heroes or for disasters. 

Tomura pays for the piece in cash after he does up his shirt, passing Dabi a stack of bills that is definitely too much, and then giving him a wave. "Thanks for your time, Dabi. I'd love to have more of your work, hopefully I'll have time to get in touch again." He takes a business card that has the shop's number and his work email and then turns to leave as Dabi realizes that he'd given him a fifty-percent tip. Holy fucking shit. He only has a few minutes to wrap his head around the strange man that he'd just met before the next person comes up and starts to look through his book of flash tattoo designs, and he has to focus on getting his station all cleaned up and sanitized instead of turning over the strangeness of that man in his head. 

///

It's not quite intentional for Dabi to take his lunch right around when the Kink 101 course is supposed to be starting. He just didn't get a break until then, and after how long he spent waiting in line the day before for food, he took the fact that vendors were allowed to bring their own snacks in, both for themselves and in case anyone on their table needed them if their blood sugar dips, and he shoves two convenience store onigiri into his mouth and chugs his water bottle, goes to a fountain and refills it, and then chugs that too, before he decides to try to go to the panel. He still ends up being late by fifteen minutes and Tomura Shigaraki, as he catches his full name on the sign taped to the door, is already deeper into his discussion. This convention is already eighteen plus, so he's able to slip inside and find a vacant seat at the back of the room, sitting to listen to what is going on. 

"Finding a kink, discovering a style of domination, submission, or both, can take a long time to work through, and it might not be consistent with every relationship that you're in. That's why being able to check in with yourself and be honest about what you have in your relationship, what you need out of it, and what you're looking for in terms of kink-- or really whatever else you need-- is so important. Maybe in a past relationship you were okay with play just being in the bedroom. Maybe you had a period of time where being a brat was the only thing that got you through the day, but now things are more stressful, and you have so many responsibilities on you, that you can't handle having more expectations put on you, and you need a dominant who doesn't get a thrill out of punishments, so much as you need one who will be pleased to take care of you when you come home. Someone who has a good meal waiting for you, will run you a bath, and then take you to bed and make sure that you're feeling so good that all your stress melts away and all you need to do is let yourself be guided by them to bring you both fulfillment." Shigaraki goes on, talking about ways of negotiating through different styles of dom/sub relationships and giving examples of things that can happen in them as well as some reasons why people who have been into those dynamics have found them fulfilling. He talks about a wide variety of other common kinks including a few that make Dabi uncomfortable to hear about, but he talks about all of it with the same level of care and detail. There isn't a drop of insincerity or derision when he talks about things that seem strange to Dabi, but must be relatively commonplace and that must be... popular. All of the things he discusses have to be popular to have made it into his limited presentation, and when Shigaraki gets to the question asking and answering portion, Dabi feels like he fades even further into his own head. 

He's been doing all of that 'service dom' stuff for Hawks all the time when he's home and at first it was nice to feel helpful, it's just been... less nice lately. But he didn't know that people could get off to that kind of stuff. Maybe if he could make that some kind of foreplay then he wouldn't be so exhausted each time Hawks comes back to the apartment after also having to spend so much time in bed with his partner. 

Dabi dips before the full presentation is done and goes back to his booth, thinking about that for the rest of the weekend. Out of the thirty plus competitions, he feels very lucky to have managed to win two of them, best flash tattoo on Sunday, and best small black design on a male model on Saturday, each day seeing the same categories presented, but new winners chosen for each one. Each winner gets ¥40,000, and that feels like a nice bonus, given that the amount he makes just from doing the pieces he has over the course of the weekend is more money than he normally makes at work in a month. Dabi is never hurting for money now, everything at the apartment is set to autopay and Hawks gives him an allowance for groceries since he wouldn't bother with cooking otherwise, but Dabi never really has been able to shake the feeling of being poor. He never was, not really. He was close a few times after he left the Todoroki house, but all that time that he spent scraping together the funds to support himself always made him feel like he was on the knife edge of oblivion, or at the very least having to crawl his way back to his father and destroying any scrap of his pride that he had left. And Simon did insist that he take a week off to let his hand recover, which, yeah, ow. So he has the money to take a vacation, the time off work, the knowledge his partner isn't going to be home for another two weeks if hero stuff stays the way it has been, and... no reason to go home if there isn't going to be anyone there waiting for him. He'll just be alone in the apartment, and lately... he really hasn't liked doing that very much.

So when Dabi gets back to the hotel on Sunday night, he asks if they have a room available for the rest of the week and then he goes and looks up La Vénus and their educational programs.

///

The following afternoon he finds himself going to a skyscraper in down-town Kamino and checking in with a woman at the front desk. She brings him off to a waiting room with sixteen other people of all shapes and sizes who are also here for the one week intensive workshop that promises to teach them the basics of negotiations, safe BDSM practices, and practical knowledge like basic rope tying. And the class starts at exactly two on the dot as Tomura Shigaraki walks into the room with a tablet. He's wearing a deep red button down today, several of the top buttons undone, a black leather chest harness looped around his torso, sleeves rolled up to show his forearms, and black dress pants again. Today, he's tired back most of his hair, though the messy fringe still frames his face. 

"Hello, I'm Tomura Shigaraki and I'll be your instructor for the week. Before we get started, I have a few rules to go over and some guidelines to help keep all of us safe as we proceed." He explains that they will be using the traffic light system as they go through the classes and what that means, so if anyone ever needs to have something stop during a practical application or if they want to step out of the room while the class is learning a triggering kink, they will be able to do so safely. He makes sure that they all checked their phones at the door and tells them that the night of free admittance to the actual sex club upstairs on Saturday night, then they will all have to turn in a clean STI test by the end of the week, but that they will get a welcome packet for information about the walk-in clinic that the venue works closely with to make sure that their various talent also use. Then the tour starts. They get to go through the filming studio that has a variety of different sets and is currently being set up for the next porno that will be shot there today, then up to the lobby of the love hotel section of the building, for people who might not be ready to engage in a public entanglement, and for their guests who are too inebriated to get safely home. There are offices and administrative rooms, as well, though Shigaraki says those areas are where the more boring work of running this company happens, but they need to cross their t's and dot their i's because a lot of people would love to see this place disappear rather than succeed. They get a tour of the empty club near the top of the building, and that is expansive. Dabi hasn't ever been much of a club going person, but seeing one in broad daylight with all the lights on is extremely weird. They are shown the main dance area where people who aren't sure if they want more explicit play tend to stay for some heavy petting, and then go down a wide hallway with roped off  seating areas in front of six sets of red velvet curtains. Shigaraki steps down the stairs and parts the curtains showing a bedroom inside, also all decorated in red with a variety of common toys hung neatly on the wall, ready to be used by either customers who book the experience or by their professional doms, subs, or actors who choose to use it instead. Beyond that is the lounge which has large benches at the center of a speak-easy style bar with a balcony running around the top of the room giving people a bird's eye view of the tangled orgies that often take place there. Next door is the traditional dungeon area that Dabi would have expected when people talked about BDSM, with black leather and red accents with floggers, crops, neatly tied bundles of rope, and other accoutrements on one of the walls. And from there the 'wet' room which is tiled and with drains in the floor for people who are interested in fluid-based activities. Then the playroom which is a frilly, pastel landscape that might look like a cartoon world or a child's playhouse if not for all of the very obvious, very pastel, fetish gear around, like breeding benches, stockades, and modular furniture that can be used by the people inside. Before Shigaraki ends the tour with a much more traditional strip club-like room that consists of a bar, two seating areas, and a t-shaped stage. When they've had their look at V, Shigaraki brings them back down to the ground floor and they go to a conference room and are able to take a seat at the little tables in a semi circle around their room, the welcome folders waiting for each of them. Then he starts to teach. He goes over basic terminology, starts to talk about what they will be exploring in this workshop, and then he goes around and gets those of them who are comfortable with saying what they're most interested in learning and has them say it out loud. Dabi doesn't offer, but when everyone is filing out of the room, he's not surprised when Shigaraki comes over to him. 

"I didn't expect to see you again so soon, Dabi." He says with a pleased warmth in his tone. "But I can't say that I'm complaining. Do you have any experience with BDSM?" 

"I hadn't planned on it until after I caught part of your presentation," he says honestly. "And no, not really? I think... that I've kind of been being a service top for my boyfriend for a while after hearing what you said about it on Saturday, and I got curious about how uh, kink and stuff, might be able to heighten that experience."

"Oh, well I'd be happy to help you work on that and find tools to help ensure that you're happy with where your current relationship is, or find a new way of framing it to make it better. I can't promise perfect results, but if things feel stagnant, then just opening the door to a conversation can be a great way to start to get things moving again." 

"Yeah, that's really what I think I'm hoping for." He admits. "We started off really hot and heavy, and then his work got so busy-- and that's fine, he has an important job, and I like what I'm doing, but sometimes I don't know," Dabi shrugs weakly, not knowing how to put into words how he feels after Hawks and come and gone like a whirlwind and he's left dusting himself off in the aftermath. 

"You feel drained, alone, helpless? Like maybe the time you spent together wasn't good enough, or you made a mistake?" But Shigaraki just reaches into his brain and extracts the words like it costs him absolutely no effort to do so. 

"I-- yeah, how did you know that?" 

Shigaraki doesn't look all that pleased that he was so on the money, his lips twisting into a small frown as he goes on. "Well, it sounds like you're doing a lot of acts of service, but not getting any reassurance or aftercare from your dom." 

"Oh, he's not my dom. He doesn't uh, give me orders or anything. I just do all of that stuff because I know that it makes things easier for him. I just.. think maybe I overdo it sometimes?" 

Shigaraki still doesn't look very happy at that explanation, but he says, "Well that's very kind of you as a caretaker. And when you're finished performing those acts of service for your partner, does he do anything for you in turn? Either in bed or outside of it? Running you a bath, bringing you your favorite food, cuddling with you, words of affirmation?" He lists off things his tone a little more leading with each option and Dabi feels the back of his neck go hot as he has to say instead, 

"No, usually I... take care of things in bed too, and afterward we go to sleep. He usually has to be back at work first thing in the morning, so he heads out almost immediately after we get up, and then he stays at work usually for a few days, sometimes a whole week if things are really busy." Dabi... doesn't have that many friends, he realizes at this moment. He has Simon, who is technically his boss, and Natsuo, but he doesn't have anyone else besides them, and they both know that Hawks is a hero and that how busy Hawks is is really just par for the course. It's not his fault, it's just that he has so many lives to save and so much good to do being a hero because he actually believes in a world where heroes make it better instead of it just being a contest of ego the way that Enji has made it, and they usually just nod when he says Hawks is too busy for birthdays, anniversaries, dinner, holidays. It's to be expected. But with that knowledge tying his tongue in this conversation, he sees it on Shigaraki's face as he hears how little it sounds like Hawks does in their relationship and Dabi feels worse about misrepresenting his partner. 

"Okay, well, maybe you can start with something small. Maybe try to find the time to talk to him about how you've been feeling low after your time together. You said things were very hot and heavy at the start, and I imagine if you two don't get to see each other all the time, that means there's a lot of anticipation for the times you can. And I bet that things get hot and heavy again quickly after that because of the limited time as well. When something gets built up and there is a lot of excitement around it, there can be a crash afterwards as your brain uses all of your good hormones and endorphins up and that can leave you feeling depleted. That's what we call a 'drop' and they can be very severe for people, or just a consistent feeling of discomfort after a scene. But doing something that helps to reassure yourself, or something that is low effort but feels good or comforting, can be a great way of preventing that, some aftercare so that you will hopefully be able to stop getting to those lows." 

And those words, at the very least, make Dabi feel a bit better. "Okay, yeah, that sounds doable." He didn't know that feeling so much anticipation, so much frantic energy to make the most of the time he has not being alone in the apartment, and the hollowness that comes for him in the quiet again when it's over, was something that could be so commonplace to other people that they would have words for it, but he's glad he has them now. 

"Great, and I look forward to showing you some other ways that will help you make sure you're getting everything you need to make kink work for you." He smiles again and some of the tightness in Dabi's chest leaves him. 

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to finding out more about all of this, and hopefully I'll get the chance to work with you again on your next piece." He says, giving a weak smile of his own. 

"I hope so, I was thinking of a back piece. A moth maybe, with slashes of starlight coming out of it, mirroring what you did around my chest piece." 

They talk for a bit longer about that, and Dabi relaxes again. Shigaraki is a good conversationalist, and Dabi does talk to a lot of people, he talked until his throat ached over the weekend just trying to be personable with everyone who came to his booth at the convention. But that just means it's much easier for him to know when he actually clicks with someone enough to want to keep talking to them, and when forty-five minutes eclipse from the end of the class and someone actually comes to see what is going on, Dabi knows he probably could have stayed there talking to the other man for another hour at least. Oh well, if nothing else, it just reassures him that taking this vacation was absolutely the right move for him as he looks forward to the class tomorrow. 

///

The classes are wildly different from anything that Dabi ever thought that he would get up to in his life, but they are good, fun even. Shigaraki is good at treating the subject with enough seriousness when he's talking about play that could be harmful if executed poorly, but he never shies away from the fact that, 

"Yeah, sometimes we have to take a step back and acknowledge it is pretty funny that being treated like a dog, piece of furniture, or a misbehaving student when we've been out of school for decades gets us off. It's fine to laugh at yourself and never forget that when it comes down to it, kink is supposed to be fun, there should be a joy and satisfaction in the things that you're doing, and if you aren't finding that, then it might be time to take a step back and re-evaluate why you're doing it in the first place." 

And there are little exercises that Shigaraki does with them as well. He walks them through the beginnings of wax play and how to buy candles that are safe to use on human skin. He brings out a series of different impact toys and teaches them where they can go, how to create a pain scale, the difference between 'thuddy' and 'stingy' pain and how to take care of whoever is on the receiving end of that pain when they're done. He teaches them the basic knots for shibari and signs to look out for in case something is too tight, urging them to always leave the knots loose enough so that they can slip two fingers under the rope of whoever they're tying, including themselves as he talks about self-shibari and the way that can be soothing and enjoyable as well. 

Dabi learns so much, and whenever they have to partner up for the activities, he often ends up with Shigaraki as his given the odd number of students in the class at the moment. He thinks that maybe that should be embarrassing, with the other students already forming little micro-cliques during their breaks, but he doesn't mind. Shigaraki is great to talk to one-on-one as well, and he feels like he's absorbing even more information than he thinks that he is during the lectures at large as they work together. 

Their task right now is a mock scene negotiation in a safe space where they can practice voicing the things they want in bed, how to handle rejection, or how to map out details enough to ensure that they are set up for a safe scene in the end. 

Dabi knows he's not the only one bright red as he tries to stumble his way through his words, but he doesn't know if he's felt his quirk closer to his skin in a decade, but he might burn up completely as he tries to imagine asking Hawks to do anything that they've tried so far in class. 

"I, uh, I think I want to try to be a service dom. Not much has to change-- I'll still clean the house and cook and stuff, but when we're together, I think it would feel good if you could tell me that I've done well? A-and after we're together I start to feel low because I was so excited to see you, but then it's over so quickly and it makes me exhausted, and I tend to feel really bad after you go, so maybe instead of me just making you feel good before you leave, we could spend a little more time together? I think it would be nice to do something softer. Maybe I could do that thing that you like," bird quirks aren't common enough for him to risk saying 'preen your wings' out loud, but he doesn't have to. Shigaraki already told him that he could redact anything that he wants to protect the privacy that he wants to hold onto here. It still feels so strange to say all of this out loud though. "I just, I want to make sure that it still feels special, and that it still feels good when we can be together, and I think that making some of these changes could help." 

Shigaraki waits a beat for him to finish speaking and then he answers in a low voice. "No, I don't think I want to do that. I would rather you put a leash on me and make me bark." 

And even though it's not supposed to be funny really, the wild rejection does let a bubble of half-hysterical laughter slip from his lips and help him to try and regain his balance. "That's not what he would say if he were going to shoot me down." 

"What would he say then?" Shigaraki leans his knuckles against his cheek, smiling at him gently, encouragingly as he helps to coach him through this part. It's going to be so hard to say any of this at all, but just being forced to think through it, to practice what he would want to say, it does help. He always felt better when he thought he was doing something proactive to change his circumstances. 

"He would probably say something like, 'oh? really, sorry! Sure, we can try it!'" Dabi tells him, but even as he says the sentence, he feels that low starting to come into his mood again and he trails off. He's not expecting Shigaraki to reach across the table and catch his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze to encourage him to go on. "...And then, maybe after a week or two, he would slow down. And if I asked him for a check-in, he would probably say, 'oh, yeah, all of that-- I'm sorry, I've just been so busy lately! Maybe we can try again some other time?'. And he is busy, this is just something for me."

Shigaraki squeezes his hand a little tighter. "Just because it's something for you, doesn't make it less important than things that are just for him. You should be able to ask for the things you want, Dabi." He considers him for a second and Dabi can't keep holding his eye contact, feeling... small in a way that he hasn't ever felt before. "You keep talking about service domination, but have you considered that you might lean more towards submission instead?" Shigaraki prompts him, and that, at least, is different enough that he is able to focus on the other man's words more clearly. 

"I always top, he usually doesn't have the energy for that after all the time he spends at work." He says automatically. He used to switch with other people he's slept with in the past, but Hawks just wasn't ever interested in that. 

"You can still be a submissive who tops, Dabi. The real difference comes from where you're getting your pleasure. Do you like the idea of doing all of the things you've told me you do because you feel satisfied knowing that the apartment is in your control, that you are the one who makes sure that your busy partner is looked after and taken care of when he comes back home? He can go out and save the world, or whatever his job is that is so important, but when he's inside of your home, he's able to relax because he looks to you for that kind of tenderness and care that you put into making everything perfect? Or," he leads him with his tone, "Do you make the house perfect, cook, and do whatever he likes in bed because you like it when he gives you attention for doing them? Is it about taking pleasure from being told that you're doing a good job? Would you enjoy being tied to the bed and used as nothing but a toy as much as you enjoy making him food if you knew that it made him happy to do that to you?" 

And Dabi's blush comes back hot across his skin again as he rolls those words around in his head. He... always tries to earn a scrap of praise, always works hard so that he can prove that he's worthy of standing beside Hawks even though only two other people in the whole world know that they've even met. And when those efforts go unnoticed or unacknowledged, those lows come in so much harder for him in the aftermath. He only ever sails high when he does something particularly impressive and Hawks spends time telling him how wonderfully he did. He looks to him for that reassurance. "I... like it when he tells me I'm doing a good job." He admits softly.

Shigaraki smiles at him again, so warm and sweet and it makes Dabi's chest go warmer too even though he knows it shouldn't. "That's fine, Dabi. But if that's the case, then maybe start to reframe what you're asking for in your negotiation. If you need a dom who will give you the praise, attention, and acknowledgement that you deserve for how well you've been acting as a sub, then that's important. You have every right to that kind of attention, especially if you're suffering without it." 

"Okay." He barely manages to say the word, taking his hand out of Shigaraki's. "Uh, I think I'm going to go to the bathroom." He says, leaving the table without another word. He has safe ones to use, but he doesn't know why he needs them. Why his chest feels so tight, why he thinks he might burst into tears as soon as he's alone. But he does know that he shouldn't have felt a little warmer when Shigaraki was holding his hand like that. 

///

Dabi tries to text Hawks that night. He hadn't bothered to tell him that he was going to stay in Kamino after the conference because he knew that he wouldn't be home to notice his absence. But that sends a sourness through his gut now and he shoots off a message to the other man. 

Dabi: 'Decided to stay in Kamino for the week with the vacation time. How are things with you?" 

It takes twenty minutes before he gets a response. 

Birdy: 'Kamino?? What r u doing there???'

Dabi frowns and types back quickly, trying to make sure he gets as long of a conversation out of his partner as he can. 

Dabi: 'I had the tattoo convention over the weekend.' 

Birdy: 'Ooooh right! Cool, have fun!'

Dabi stares at the text bubble for a minute. He thinks about telling him that he won a few prizes for his work, or telling him how many people he saw, how badly his hand hurt on Monday, something. But he realizes distantly that he... wants Hawks to ask him about that. He had been so excited when his application had been accepted for this, and Hawks had forgotten about it in the eight months leading up to it, forgotten that he went to it even when he'd gone home and not seen him there, and he didn't even remember it now. 

He doesn't like the part of him that screenshots the La Vénus educational programs page on the site, but the parts he does like are silent as he sends that to Hawks with the added bubble, 

Dabi: 'I signed up for a few, thought that it could be an interesting way to spend the week.' 

Birdy: '😳!' 

Birdy: 'Maybe a nefarious villain will tie me up when I come back home and have his wicked way with me 😘' 

And Dabi's not prepared for the sharp heat that goes through him. Not desire, but something... volatile that has his quirk trying to act up again. 

Dabi: 'Or maybe a dirty hero ties me up and has his way with me. I could teach you the knots we've learned.' 

Birdy: 'Eh, we could get to the good stuff faster if you do it. GTG, ttyl, hot stuff!'

And it's only when Dabi sees a spark leave his lips on his next exhale that he realizes that he's so... angry. Angry in a way he hasn't felt himself get in a long time, but angry in a way that makes him think that if he let his flames escape his skin, he wouldn't stop burning until his fire chased Hawks through the sky-- 

Dabi tries to take a deep breath, and when he can only taste smoke in the back of his throat, he goes into the shower and cranks the water as cold as it can go, staying there until the smoke stops spilling from his skin and his body is just left frigid and shivering when he goes to lay back down. 

///

The next day, Shigaraki reminds them that they need to go to the clinic to get their STI tests done if they want to be admitted to the club on Saturday. They only have until Friday afternoon at three if they want their results by the next day, and he doesn't want any of them to miss out on the opportunity if they want to see kink in practice or try it out themselves if they're in the market for that. He doesn't push, but Dabi is pretty sure he's the only person who hasn't actually gone to the clinic. He hadn't been planning on going to the club on Saturday. Going to these classes had felt alright, like he wasn't really doing anything wrong because it was all an educational setting and there wasn't any chance of this becoming an orgy or crossing the line into anything actually sexual. Whereas going to the club felt more... overtly bad. He knows he's clean because Hawks is the only person he's slept with in years, and he knows the hero isn't cheating on him because if he wanted to drive himself absolutely insane, he could very easily map out every single second of the hero's day from news reports and fansites. He doesn't want to do that, and another part of his mind sparks with something mean and bitter as it reminds him that Hawks wouldn’t have the energy to try and cheat on him. He can't even put any energy into being--

Dabi tries to shake those angry thoughts, knowing that they don't do him any good and just make him more upset. Hawks is the number three hero in Japan. He grew up knowing how little time for a home life the number two had, and holding that against Hawks when he knew what he was getting into is just petty and in bad faith. He knows better than that. But he is quiet during the class today. Shigaraki brought in a huge array of sex toys and fetish gear and talked them through finding reputable sellers, good materials, how to sanitize different ones, and how to take care of others, including things like latex which requires special storage and upkeep to make sure that it stays looking its best and doesn't get damaged between uses. It's all interesting, and Dabi tries to pay attention, but he doesn't really manage it. 

And at the end of class, Shigaraki comes over to his table and takes the seat across from him as the other students file out of the room. Dabi never got in trouble at school, he was always too desperate to prove that he was the best at school and his training, but he imagines that the dread inside of him that comes now is a similar feeling to what he would have gotten when he was young. 

"Hey, I just wanted to check in. You seemed a little out of it today, did you remember your colors, Dabi?" His voice is gentle and worried and that makes Dabi feel even worse. 

"I remember them," he says quickly. "I wasn't uncomfortable." 

"Then is there something else on your mind that I can help you with?" Shigaraki sounds so sure, so understanding, and he is looking at him. Taking the time to check-in on him when it would have probably been easier for him to just shoo him along so he can go about whatever other business he has to do today.

"I... tried to bring things up with my partner." He says after a second. "He was into some of it-- he even told me a fantasy of his. But... when I suggested that he take a little more control, he turned me down. W-we were just texting, so it's not like he could see how much that disappointed me, but I don't know. It just made me think that maybe there isn't a reason for me to keep coming to these classes. He's never going to--" he stops himself again, holding his tongue because he doesn't want to say that. He doesn't want to put it in the air. If he does that then he can never take it back. 

"I think," Shigaraki says after a moment, still watching him with that same measured look, "That these classes are for you first and foremost. They're something you decided to do because you were interested in them and the things you learn here are ones you'll be able to use for the rest of your life, whether or not you stay partners with this person for all of that time. If you enjoy what you're learning, then learn it for you-- not him. To me," Shigaraki says, his tone shifting a bit, but in a way that Dabi can't put a name to, "It seems like you're already doing a lot for him. I think you should spend the rest of the week thinking about the things that you want to do." 

Dabi has always thought he was doing the things he wanted. He left his father's home because he wanted to be something other than the failed son, he threw himself into this craft because he wanted to make a name for himself unconnected to his family name, he's been a good partner because he... wanted to prove that he wasn't made of the same things as his father. He sees who he is and how every echo that shaped him is just in response to where he started and that is a new layer of horribleness that he is suddenly made aware of that he absolutely loathes. "I... don't know." 

"That's okay too, but thinking about it won't hurt. Has there been anything that we've talked about in class that has piqued your interest? Not something to do with the partner that you have now, but an ideal fantasy?" When Dabi feels like he's just desperately clawing through his mind for one real thing that he wants, that isn't just... attention from the people he always gives all of his attention to in turn, and he doesn't move to speak, Shigaraki takes pity on him again. "I don't have a full-time sub right now." He says honestly, watching him from across the table with unwavering red eyes. "I want one, very badly. I want a full-time power exchange. I want him to live in my apartment and abide by the schedule I leave him, wear the clothes I pick out for him, and only feel good when it's my hands on his body or when I've given him permission to touch. I imagine how much of a relief I would feel checking in with him throughout the day and seeing if he was following along with the schedule and then getting to spoil him with rewards or punishments depending on his answer. I would adore getting to dress him up, maybe in latex, maybe leather, maybe tight bodices, or frilly skirts, or maybe walking him naked through the club with only my collar around his neck and a leash taut to keep him at my side. I would love to show him off and make sure that everyone knew that out of anyone else I could pick, he was the person I chose to spend my time with. I would love to teach him how many ways he could be broken and put back together without ever feeling shattered-- or ever doubting that I would make sure he was together again before we were finished."

Dabi listens, his attention clinging onto every word that Shigaraki says, his skin growing warm with something other than his quirk when he hears the things that he says, when he imagines what it would be like to be the one at the center of someone else's world. When he thinks about how... good it would feel to be adored in his subservience. Not made to feel lesser, not used up completely with the only thing that matters being what he can give the people around him. He wonders how good it could be, and he stands up from the table abruptly, meaning to leave as quickly as he can. 

Shigaraki stands too, "Dabi--" There's heat in his voice that makes a tremble go through his whole body and his step falter even before the other man has wrapped four fingers around his wrist and pulled him to a stop. 

"I can't--" The words slip out immediately, and like a shark scenting blood, Shigaraki locks onto them even as Dabi's hand flies up to his mouth like he could catch them from the air and put them back in his throat. It's not 'I can't', it's 'stop, let go of me, don't touch me' hell it's 'this is inappropriate, I want my money back' territory. 

But Dabi didn't say any of those other things and Shigaraki is quick, and he's strong, and... Dabi isn't fighting him when he pulls him to a stop, catches his hips, and pushes him up against the wall, his body not quite pressing into his, but blocking him in so completely that the world beyond them feels like it's falling away. He holds him in place as those red eyes burn into his body and he doesn't let him escape his gaze. 

"You are so talented, charming, and beautiful. You are so ready to be a good submissive for someone and the person you're with doesn't deserve you. You don't deserve their treatment. You should be cherished, pampered, adored. I would love to be the one responsible for showing you that, Dabi. I would make certain that you knew every day how happy it made me if you were mine. I would reward you every night as we figured out what kind of treatment would excite you most. Maybe I would talk myself hoarse every night telling you what a good job you did following instructions that day. Maybe you would want a reminder of how to be good and you would lay across my lap to get maintenance spankings. Maybe you wouldn't be able to sleep without warming my cock in your needy hole after how completely you've been neglected for so long. And I would help you figure all of that out. I would do my best to make sure that you never dropped again, and if you did-- there would never be anything more important to me than taking care of the person who trusted me so completely. I will take care of you, Dabi." 

And that horrible broken ache in his chest is so much worse than it has been, but even just that makes Dabi acknowledge that his chest has been hurting for a long time. It hurt so bad and so much that he made himself numb to it instead of feeling it. He's been running away from things, burying his head in the sand, making excuses the way-- the way--

"Red," Dabi's voice cracks as he croaks out the word, his eyes burning as they fill with unshed tears. 

Shigaraki lets go of him immediately, his expression going from intense to remorseful in a second as he takes two steps back so that he's not even within arm's reach of Dabi, but before he can say anything else, Dabi is racing out of the room. He manages to flag down a cab and tell them where he's going before he's pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes and doing his best to muffle his sobs as the car pulls away from the building. 

///

It's hours later, Dabi's mouth feeling dry, his head pounding, and a horrible sourness in his gut that he isn't sure is ever going to go away, before he realizes that he doesn't have his phone, he left it at La Vénus, and he needs to talk to Hawks tonight. Dabi feels awful, but he trudges to the bathroom, leaving the light off so he doesn't have to see himself, and he washes his face before he gets his coat and goes back to the door. 

It's a horrible walk of shame that brings him back to the club that already has a modest line out the front door as people have to show their IDs and tests to get into the building. Dabi's skin prickles with discomfort the closer to the front of the line he gets, knowing that he won't be allowed inside, but when it's his turn he shows his ID and starts to speak before the bouncer can force him to leave, 

"I don't have a test-- I don't want to go to the club. I'm a student in some of the educational programs in the afternoon, and I accidentally left my phone at the front desk. I really need it tonight, could I please just run to the front desk and grab it? My name is Dabi, I'm on the class registry." 

The woman who was looking at IDs has got at least ten centimeters on him, but as she listens to his rambling she reaches for a walkie talkie at her belt and buzzes the desk, asking if there are any personal belongings under his name there. His phone is found and returned to him in a matter of minutes. But when it's returned, it does so in a red gift bag and Dabi doesn't bother to question it right now. Not when all he wants to do is get as far away from here as possible. He makes his way down the street, wanting to find somewhere that is more private than his hotel with paper thin walls and that isn't going to be as stiflingly confined as actually being inside. 

It's been a long time since he did something so delinquent, but he wanders until he finds a building that is off in the middle of nowhere that doesn't have a particularly high fence, with darkness in every window, and then he hops the fence and climbs the fire escape up to the roof. He sits down on the edge, letting his legs dangle off, the glow of street lamps and the light pollution of the city ambient enough for him to see through as he extracts his phone from the bag first, and then goes after whatever is tangled up in the crisp white tissue paper. 

The first thing he finds is an envelope and even though he doesn't know if he wants to see what Shigaraki had to say, he still opens it up. 

'Dabi, 

You have my sincerest apologies for my inappropriate behavior today. While you are welcome to continue to attend my class, or the later afternoon session that has a different teacher, or the club on Saturday or at any other point in the future, your payment has been refunded in full. I'm certain that monetary repayment isn't enough for the distress that I have caused you, and I can only hope that an apology is enough for now, or until you feel comfortable with presenting me another way I can make amends. 

I'm certain that you do not want to hear this from me, but the 'partner' that you talk about with such reverence, doesn't seem to be worthy of the care and attention that you put into caring for him when he cannot be bothered to return those affections in kind. I hope that no matter what path your life takes, that you can come to terms with that in your own time and find a way that allows you to be happy with the acts of service that you do with someone who cherishes them for what they are worth. 

It was a pleasure to meet you if I don't have the honor of seeing you again, and I hope you know that you leave a lasting impression on anyone whose path you do cross-- even if you don't end up putting your ink in their skin. 

-Tomura Shigaraki'

Dabi doesn't want to let the words shake anything else loose in his chest and he puts the envelope back into the bag and takes out the other item. It's three books. Two of them he recognizes as ones that Shigaraki talked about being good ways to learn if they wanted to keep doing so outside of the class. The third is probably something that he picked up from the convention, because it's an art book that has different styles of tattoos from all around the world. Dabi has a copy of it already, something he got himself for his birthday last year when Hawks said that he would be too busy to come home to celebrate with him and he'd run out of time to do any shopping, so he'd told him to just pick something out for himself. Dabi wants to burn it as he stares at the glossy cover, but he manages to refrain if only because he's not sure that he would stop if he let himself start to burn. 

Dabi pushes himself up from the ledge and starts to pace as he texts Hawks. 

Dabi: Can you call me?

There's no response right away and Dabi can't stand that. He normally waits. He always has to wait because Hawks is a hero. He's busy. He's saving people and Dabi isn't selfish enough to pretend that he is more important than that. Not usually. But right now he needs to be selfish. He calls the other man. 

It goes to voicemail. Dabi knows his frequency for his coms channel for his agency and he logs into it from his phone, listening to see if there is any chatter about a fight going on, but all he hears are some of the sidekicks talking about picking up a late dinner. 

So he calls Hawks again. And again, and after three calls going to voicemail, the hero finally answers. 

"Jeez, what's going on, hot stuff? Never had you blow me up like this. Is it an emergency? I'm not going to be home tonight, I'm still at work." He says that and something in Dabi snaps and goes white-hot with his rage, sparks flying out of his mouth as he snarls back, 

"I know you're at work! I know you're not home! Do you even remember where I am tonight?" It's been a long time since Dabi raised his voice and he doesn't know if he's ever done it to Hawks, but if it's between keeping his words or his flames contained, then he has a very important choice to make and he's... not going to ruin his life over Hawks. 

"Whoa, calm down, hot stuff. What's going on? Why are you so steamed? Smoked?" He makes a joke and Dabi's mouth goes. 

"I'm still in Kamino, for my vacation after the convention I was so excited about being accepted for."

"Oh! Right, sorry about that." Hawks doesn't seem upset. He laughs. "You were going to some classes," he can hear the way that the bird waggles his eyebrows suggestively whenever he's making his allusions as he says that word. "Oh! Is that what this is about? Something happen that got you all hot and bothered. Sure I could swing by Kamino real quick if you can make it worth my while, Dabs."

Dabi has never had anger burn so brightly inside of him that it turns to... nothing. To a wave of calm that is so deep and so thorough for a moment that as he starts speaking again, he doesn't have room in him for doubt or hesitation anymore. "Yeah, I heard something very hot, and it made me think: I'm not happy with what we're doing in bed anymore." 

There's a pregnant pause on the other end of the line and when Hawks doesn't find his words immediately for once, Dabi keeps talking. 

"I don't like always topping when we're together. I don't like the fact that when I'm exhausted after spending eight hours crouched over someone, knowing that any fuck-up I could make will stick with them for the rest of their life, I then have to rush home to make you dinner and clean the apartment, and then know that I have to be the world's most attentive dildo because otherwise you'll squawk and pout about how your needs aren't being met while I'm doing so much that it feels like I'm dying." 

"Woah, hey, where is all of this coming from?" And Hawks finally sounds like he's actually taking him seriously, for once, and he sounds annoyed when he adds, "This isn't an emergency and I am at work, Dabi. I don't have time for this." 

And the fire comes back. It explodes, through his veins, out of him in a blast of fire that vents out through the uncovered parts of his skin and leaves them tingling with the pain of a light burn from how hot they come and how quickly they dissipate like a flash bang. “You're ALWAYS at work! You never have time for me! But you expect me to make time for you! You expect me to call off work, and clean the apartment, and cook for you, and fuck you however you want without ever asking me what I want! I know your schedule back to front and you don't even remember when I tell you I'm going somewhere for eight months before it happens! You didn't even ask me how the convention went! I won two awards! I'm not changing the world, I might not be a hero, but that doesn't mean that I'm not important! Is this all I have to look forward to? Being your house husband who doesn't exist in the eyes of the public because your image is more important than I ever will be to you?"

"Okay, sorry. Fuck, I didn't realize that not asking about your day was such a big deal. But you cannot honestly be telling me that you think me calling to check in how your day is going is more important than my hero work. Come on, Dabi. I don't know what's gotten into you, but be reasonable." 

Dabi doesn't cry. He doesn't scream anymore. This time he knows it's hopeless before he goes and destroys himself in pursuit of someone who absolutely does not deserve him. "I shouldn't have ever had to be measured against that. You should have made time and room for both if you wanted to have both when you asked me to move in with you. I'll leave my key under the mat. We're done." 

And he hangs up. He pauses, waiting for a moment to see if Hawks calls him back, if he sends him a text, but he doesn't get one. He hates that he can just imagine Hawks shaking out his feathers, rolling his eyes, stretching, and then going right back to his sidekicks to keep being the golden hero. He'll probably either tell him to buy himself something or just have his personal assistant send flowers to the apartment. That's what he did the first time that he forgot their anniversary and Dabi had been mad at him. He had someone else buy him a present, and then he doted on him a bit when he'd come home, until Dabi 'got over it' and had gone right back to doing the same thing again. Dabi had convinced himself that was alright, like Rei had convinced herself that she could survive in his father's house and like how Fuyumi had deluded herself that they could all be a happy family again. Not anymore. Dabi picks up the gift bag and climbs back down, blocking Hawks's number before he looks up where the nearest open department store is and if there's any way that he can get from Kamino to Fukuoka tonight. 

///

He arrives back at the apartment just after sunrise with three suitcases that he bought on his way back. He goes inside and finds that the air is stale, Hawks only having come home maybe once based on the fucking take-out container that is stinking up the apartment and that has already bred fruit flies from being left there. Because Hawks is used to him going around and cleaning up after him. Dabi has been living here for two years, but he... doesn't want anything. Not a damn thing that is in this house. He just goes in and gets the things that are important. Legal documents that he has to have, his clothes, his sketchbooks, but there is nothing that he looks at in this house that has some sort of sentimental value that he feels the need to hold onto. And he's not about to find out if Hawks can be as vindictive as his father was, so he makes sure to get a picture of every room with timestamps on, just in case, and then he locks up and puts his key under the welcome mat he bought for the place. 

He takes his shit and goes to the tattoo parlor, and as soon as Simon sees the bags he gives him a look that tells Dabi that he's been waiting for this to happen. It only doesn't make him angry or hurt because at least Simon doesn't protest at all when Dabi says, "I think I'm finally ready to try guesting at other studios around the country. Do you still have any offers for me?" 

"Yeah, I've got a few, come sit down and we can take a look." Thankfully, his friend doesn't offer him any condolences or ask him how he's doing. He just brings him to the office and opens up a folder he's saved in his email with the inquiries that have been sent their way. "You got three more since last weekend," he says, his tone trying to be encouraging. 

"Are any of them near Kamino? I... didn't actually check out of my hotel yet." He realizes dimly. He is going to have to go back, though at least he shouldn't be in too bad of a spot on that front given it's Friday and he won't have to check out until Sunday. 

Simon hesitates, but he does click over to one of the inquiries. "There is one, it's a relatively new shop, only three years old with only a few reviews and a pretty barren online presence, but somehow it's on one of the most populated streets and seems to be doing very well for itself even though none of the artists there have a very large online presence either." And Dabi wanted to be a hero since he was a child, so he feels very sure when he says, 

"Yakuza?" 

"Not in Kamino," And he knows Simon uses his quirk, the ability to get people to follow his command if he uses his command phrase, for off-the-books illicit activities. He knows his main side hustle is with some black market mob doctor because when they can't get anesthetics, all Simon has to do is command someone to slow their breathing, go numb, or go to sleep, and their brains rush to follow his orders. It's shady business, but Dabi never wanted to see him go to Tartarus for it, especially not when he knew that Hawks would have absolutely brought him in for it. "Someone new owns Kamino, took over about three years ago, same time this place popped up, so I'm guessing this is one of their laundering businesses." 

"Is it the kind of person I should be worried about if I go there and do some tattoos for a week?" 

"No, from what I hear he's pretty level-headed. I don’t think he'd bother you as long as you keep your mouth shut, and I can vouch for you there. Just, uh, maybe don't tell anyone who your ex is?"

"Okay, can you set it up for me?" Normally Dabi takes care of his business stuff on his own, but all he wants to do after a sleepless night is go back to his hotel room and sleep back all the time he lost to Hawks. How the fuck can that feel as bad as losing the years that he did to a fucking coma?

"Yeah, no problem Dabi. Sorry." 

He doesn't thank him for his condolences, just the work that he's willing to do for him as he gets back on his feet before he goes back to Kamino. 

///

Dabi didn't eat anything on Friday, he realizes as he wakes up absolutely ravenous on Saturday morning. His eyes still hurt from the late night bout of crying that got to him after he'd gone to the front desk and extended his stay again. Coming back to the room with his life in four bags around him had been too much and he'd shattered apart again. But he's starving, he has to think about his savings and next steps and generally get his life together now. He can't just stick his head in the sand and wait for things to not suck as much as they do right now. He's been doing that for two years and he'll be dead in a ditch before he wastes another day on that kind of bullshit. 

He goes down to the hotel shop and picks up whatever instant stuff they have so he can eat, and then he comes back to the room, shoving it into his mouth as he opens his email. Simon forwarded him other offers, and told him that the studio is happy to host him for the next two weeks starting on Monday, and that he's free to start posting on socials about it and they will be doing the same. He immediately goes and uploads the pictures he has of his winning designs from last weekend and says that he'll be there and if anyone wants to book something with him, he'd be happy to do so. 

Then he replies to the other two spots that want him to take up work with them, booking out the next two weeks after this spot, and then the next two weeks after that. He texts Natsuo and asks if he can store his non-essentials at his place for a few weeks while he's traveling for a bit, and his brother offers to commiserate with him, but Dabi shoots it down. He's not going to be sad over this. He's been sad for years now, he's realizing, and he's ready to go back to working hard for himself, not for someone else who doesn't care about him. 

And as he's going through his emails, he gets one from La Vénus. It tells him that today at three is the final chance for him to be tested if he wants to attend the 'graduation' event tonight and get into the club. He was pretty certain that Shigaraki said that the last day was Friday, and he fully intends on closing that email and moving on with what else he needs to get in a row now that he doesn't have an apartment anymore. But he glances at the clock and it's only ten in the morning. 

When was the last time he went out? Two years? Three? He stopped partying and drinking out in public because Hawks always got so pouty and mournful that he couldn't do that too because of his public image. Dabi stopped in solidarity with him, not because he stopped liking those things as a fun treat every once in a while. And he won't even have to pay the door fee at La Vénus. He can just go in and use the refunded class fee to get absolutely plastered and have a good time. And maybe if someone wants to push him up against a wall and have their way with him, maybe that could be good too. Dabi goes to the clinic. 

By the time he's finished, his results promised within the next eight hours which will put them as ready well before the club opens for the night, he decides that he wants to dress up. Dress less like a house husband and more like the way he used to when he wanted people to see his tattoos. Before Hawks told him he should try to look nondescript because when they would risk going out on dates at the beginning, there was still always a chance that someone might recognize him and try to look into Dabi and find out about their relationship like it was a dirty secret. 

He scrolls on his phone to find the shops that La Vénus recommended in the area for different fetish gear and finds a place that focuses on fashion. He heads over, and by the time he gets his results back from the clinic that declares him clean and ready to go, he's at a salon not too much further down the street, getting his hair bleached and his nails painted properly for the first time in ages. It's all money he spent and got back from the classes in the first place, and he is tired of making himself smaller for other people. 

///

When Dabi goes back to V that night, he gets in line with everyone else and as he gets to the front, once they see his test and ID, they tell him that he's welcome to go up and there's a graduation present waiting for him at the phone check. There he hands over his phone and is given back two golden coins with an impression of a Greek statue with a ball gag in her mouth, his two free drink tokens, a wristband that can be scanned to put drinks on his tab that he'll settle before getting his phone back, and a ticket that he can use to get a slot bumped up in the red rooms if he wants to use one and there's a waiting list. 

He goes up the elevator into the final waiting area before actually being able to enter the play room and he puts his coat into one of the lockers, already so warm that he knows he'll be sweltering if he keeps it on. And he... looks like he belongs. He was surprised to find baggy shiny vinyl tripp pants when he went to the shop, but the fishnet tank top and chest harness were much more along the lines of what he wanted, and he knows he looks striking with the winding and jagged black ink along his arms, chest, and back against his pale skin and his freshly bleached hair. Black was what he wore for years to keep people from paying too much attention to him. Now he wants all eyes on him. 

Dabi goes to the first room, the one mostly like a normal club area, gets his first drink and downs it as quickly as possible, and then throws himself into the crowd, the sharp tang of sweat filling the air alongside layers of cologne and perfumes that paired with the changing lights and thrumming music make the dancefloor a dizzying cacophony of sound as they go. 

Dabi dances for a long time, letting strangers hold onto him and pull him close, before he slips out of their grips if he thinks they might ask him to pull away into one of the other corners in the room so that they can have their way with him. He doesn't want that, he just wants to have a good time and when he's sweating and needs to separate himself from the overwhelming heat and crush of bodies, he slips out of that room and into the red hallway.

The rooms are all filled, the curtains open, and people are sitting off to the side of the main hall, watching as the various shows of sexuality unfold on the other side of the glass. He wants to catch his breath, but not here. He passes through and glances around the lounge. There are two tangled piles of bodies on the large benches at the center of the room, but a glance around also shows him that there are people in laps or under tables at some of the booths as they find their pleasure easily and readily as they do so. 

He doesn't find what he wants in this room either, so he moves on. The dungeon is bumping as much as the other rooms, people strapped to breeding benches  or tied up, some with spreader bars holding open their legs so that their partners can press bits of ginger into their genitals or bring floggers and crops against them so that they're squealing and crying with the pain. Dabi feels like his legs get a little more unsteady as he turns and leaves that room, wondering what it would be like to be helpless like that as he lets his dom do whatever they want to him. He skips the wet room, not wanting to even chance seeing what is going on in there, and his skin goes unbelievably warmer when he looks at the pink room and sees all kinds of people dressed as puppies or kittens or in frilly skirts and dresses regardless of whatever gender they present as. But he doesn't find him there either. It's only as he goes into the strip club and sees that three of his classmates are still sitting at one of the tables, the others either gone for the night or having already found their fun elsewhere in the club. 

And Shigaraki is there. His long white hair is wild around his shoulders again and he's wearing a see-through black button down shirt, mostly open to show his tattoo on his chest, with intricate red flowers embroidered over it and black dress pants again. He's talking with the other students and doesn't see him as he comes into the room, and Dabi makes a b-line straight for him. 

He's at the edge of the table before Shigaraki glances over at him and his eyes widen slightly, and then he's climbing into his lap, straddling him with the edge of the table biting into his back as he hooks his hands over his strong shoulders before Shigaraki can say his name. 

He's kissing him hard before he can think better of any of his boldness. 

There's a split second where Shigaraki's lips are slack and surprised against his, but that goes away so quickly and then his hands, covered in leather half gloves, are wrapping tightly around his hips and his mouth is moving against his. Shigaraki kisses him like he wants to eat him alive. Like if he can't catch every breath and little gasp from his lips, then he won't be satisfied. And Dabi wants that. He wants to be so frantically and completely wanted, and the way that his whole body hums with pleasure when Shigaraki takes control, holding Dabi tighter, keeping their lips together even when Dabi tries to part for breath until he's decided that he can pull away, is so different from the way that sex has felt like... going through the motions for so long now. 

"Dabi," His voice is low and hot and he doesn't think he would be able to hear it over the pounding music if he weren't so close to him. 

"I want someone who will take care of me." He admits breathlessly. "I want to be good for someone who appreciates it. I want to be a sub." He says those things, wants those things, but he knows that Shigaraki hears what he doesn't say. That he wants to be his sub. That he wants him to be the one to take care of him, that he wouldn't have gotten this far without what he'd said to him, that he wants to feel as wanted as Shigaraki has made him feel in just this past week. 

"And I'm never going to give you reason to doubt wanting those things ever again, precious." Words given back to him with the same amount of heat that he's offered to him before, with a sureness that tells Dabi he isn't worried about being a homewrecker or a rebound. He knows what his domination, his affection, his words are worth, and there isn't an ego behind that the way that it always felt like Dabi was fighting ego and entitlement from the people around him, from himself, since he was so young. "I'm going to show you off over and over again here, baby boy, but not tonight. Tonight I want to take you upstairs, and I'm going to show you how good it will feel to let yourself give into anything I ask." 

Dabi knew that V wasn't technically on the actual top floor of the building, but he also doesn't know what's actually above them. Maybe some other love hotel rooms? He doesn't care. "I'll do anything, Sir." He breathes, his whole body suffused with heat already. He doesn't know if Shigaraki really will want to keep him, if this is something he says to anyone who shows up in his classes that he thinks is attractive and if he throws them aside when they've given him what he wants. But if he shows him a good time tonight and then throws him away in the morning, then that's just something that Dabi will deal with. All that matters to him right now is how good this can be and if, as he tries to figure out what new shape he wants his life to take, if he would rather have it be one that has BDSM in it or not. 

Shigaraki gives him another few kisses, hot, heavy ones that make Dabi's lips tingle from the bites an that he peppers there, his hands moving along Dabi's body as well, as he works his arousal up so quickly that he's starting to tent his pants well before they actually stand. When they do finally get up to take their leave, they do so with Shigaraki holding him by intertwining their pinky fingers and pulling him gently through the club, leading him when he doesn't yet have a leash around his throat. Dabi follows after him, his head far more foggy with arousal than the one drink he'd had however long ago that was.

He is expecting to go back to the lobby so they can get to the elevator, but Shigaraki blows past the bartenders working and to the door behind the bar, taking them through a kitchen behind that area and into the guts of the club behind the public-facing part. He takes him to a service elevator and keys in a code on a small number pad before the elevator start to ascend, Shigaraki turning his attention quickly away from that as he pushes Dabi up against the wall as he murmurs against his skin, nipping at his neck as he waits for him to answer, 

"What are you going to let me do to you, baby boy? You kept blushing so much in class that I couldn't tell if you were so excited about everything that you couldn't think straight, or if you just couldn't tell what you would like."

Dabi hasn't gotten to be the one to ask for something in bed from his partner for so long, but he doesn't just want to switch roles from what he's used to. No, he likes some of the things that he does, he wouldn't have started doing them if he didn't, but he does want it to be different. "Want to be good for you, Sir." He tells him. "Let me prove it?" Make demands, reward him when he does well, make him feel how good it can be to submit to someone who knows that's what he's been trying to do. He can be in control of his own life outside of this. He can take the years he wasted and put them away on a shelf somewhere else so that he doesn't have to think about them constantly anymore and still choose to give up control in the areas he wants to without ever having to doubt himself by thinking that means there wasn't a point in making the choice to leave the situation he was in before. 

"I can do that, precious. Do you want to hurt, baby? Or is your head already too heavy for that." 

Dabi doesn't care. He knows that they're supposed to do more negotiating, that they should practice with a pain scale, that there are a hundred other questions and conversations that they probably should have to make certain that this goes well, but he doesn't want to worry about any of that right now. He just wants to be fucked by this gorgeous man who tells him how much he wants better for him. "Green, Sir." 

He says and that has Tomura's mouth back against his as he reaches down to get a tight grip on his thighs. Dabi wraps his arms around his neck just as tightly, hopping up a little when prompted and a little surprised that Tomura is able to lift him so easily from the ground as he walks him back through the elevator doors as soon as they open. Dabi doesn't get a good look at where he's been brought, only hearing a faint tinkling bell from somewhere beyond them before Tomura is easily carrying him through the space they find themselves in. 

It takes a minute, but then he feels a door against his back and Dabi fumbles a hand to find the curved knob and opens the door. Tomura kicks it open the rest of the way so that he doesn't have to put Dabi down until his back is landing against a large, soft bed that Tomura sets him on. 

"You're so pretty flushed like that, baby." His hands, no longer needing to support him, move around from the back of his thighs to inside him, leather sliding against the vinyl less smoothly than he would want, but the firmness of his hands more than makes up for that. He presses down on the loose fabric, stretching it so that it is taut and so shiny even in the dim light of the room, the very faint sounds of the music from the club humming up from the floor. "And look at how excited you already are." His voice is a purr and it doesn't do anything to keep Dabi's cock from twitching, filling even faster. "How long has it been since you were allowed to feel good, precious?" 

"Tomura," his name is a whimper, not wanting to have to count how many weeks, months maybe, that it’s been since he got aroused because he really wanted it versus doing it out of obligation. 

Sir chuckles softly, "Alright, baby. Why don't you take off your clothes for me. I want to watch." 

Dabi's skin heats at being given his first order and he moves readily when Tomura shifts over him, allowing him up. He undoes his own shirt lazily, toeing off his shoes as Dabi slips to the edge of the bed and rushes to take off his boots, the strappy belt around his waist, the chest harness, mesh shirt, and finally get to his pants. Sir has less layers and before Dabi has even gotten to his tops, he's already stripped down to his dark red boxer briefs, distracting Dabi from his task as he watches him, his cock half hard as well and creating a large bulge in the front of the fabric. It has Dabi's twitching weakly beneath his pants, and he feels a humiliating gush of pre soak his boxer briefs as well as he sees the tattoos over his thighs too. An octopus and a shark entangled in a fight on one thigh, and a massive spider in its web crawling over one hip and down to his knee on the other side.

"All of your clothes, Dabi," he orders him, heat in his eyes as he watches him hesitate. 

Dabi's hands feel shaky from his arousal as he manages to undo his buttons and fly and then he lets the pants fall to the ground, kicking them away with his underwear so that the other man only sees how hard he is and not how hopelessly desperate he feels. 

"Gorgeous, precious. Come here, sit pretty for me." 

The slave positions that they went over in class take a second to filter back into his mind, but when they do, Dabi has to swallow hard to keep from drooling as his mouth waters, his knees hitting the floor quickly as he scrambles to kneel on the ground in front of Sir with his hands against his thighs as he looks up at him. 

As soon as he's in position, Tomura reaches for him, his leather gloves still on and the texture of them against his skin wonderful as he curls his fingers around the back of his neck and tilts his head up, a few straying up to play with his hair there. "You're already doing such a good job for me, baby. I'm so proud of you." 

The words fill him with more heat, but they also feel like they shake loose one of those shattered pieces of himself he's trying to put back into place. His eyes get wet and shame is hot and queasy in his gut as he realizes that just the soft praise, just actually feeling wanted instead of convenient, is pushing him towards tears alongside the orgasm he knows he'll get if Tomura keeps talking to him like that. 

"What's wrong, precious? Do we need to slow down?" 

Dabi barely manages to weakly shake his head, adding, "Green," so that the other man knows that no matter what is going on in his head, he still wants this. He's just a fucking mess about it. 

Thankfully, Shigaraki doesn't seem to mind that as he strokes his hair again before his other hand reaches into his undergarments and pulls out a long, thick cock that makes his mouth water again. "Alright, precious. You've been so well-behaved so far. Why don't you show me how good you are with that pretty tongue, and if you do a good job, when I'm nice and wet, I'll fuck your tight little hole until you can't think about anything but how full you are. Does that sound good, baby boy?" 

"Yes, Sir." Too good. There's no hiding how just the suggestion has his cock dripping again as it throbs with need between his legs. 

"Good boy, open wide." And he coaxes his head forward. Dabi smells his skin, clean and musky with whatever soap he used leaving its scent on his body, and the slight tang of salty sweat on him as he opens his mouth and leaves along his length. His hand doesn't push him so that he can get inside of his mouth as quickly as possible, his fingers don't tighten or leave scratches across his skin. He just... plays with Dabi's hair and pets him gently like an obedient animal, his eyes never looking away from him as he starts to lick along his length. His tongue finds winding veins beneath smooth skin as he traces them up to his head, making sure to get him so wet as he savors the weight of him. He knows that he'll like it even more with the girth of him stretching his jaw, and soon he has his lips fully around his head, Dabi coaxing his mouth wider so that he can sink further and further down on his length. He wants to lift a hand to wrap around his base, another to stroke the heavy balls sitting behind his length, but he is supposed to be a good sub right now. And his dom told him to sit pretty. He's going to show him that he can be just as good at sucking his cock as he can following orders, especially if it means that Sir might want to have him doing both more often. 

Dabi barely gets Sir all the way into the back of his throat, his nose pressed into the thatch of white curls at his pelvis, before he's moaning. He can't help it, his fingers biting into his tattooed thighs as he tries to not let himself go over the edge as he feels his breathing completely stoppered by the thick length that is settled so deeply in his throat. 

Sir feels his moan reverberate across his skin and his hand strokes through his hair again so gently. "Does that feel good, sweetheart?" He asks, his eyes on his and a small smile full of heat curving his lips. "It's such a shame you didn't realize that you were made to be on your knees, absolutely adored by the dom you chose to take care of you. You could have let yourself be so happy so much sooner-- but I'm glad I get to be your first, baby. I'm going to make sure that you always know just how precious your submission is." 

Dabi doesn't understand what those words do to his head, he just knows that they make him feel too good. And before he can try to pull off of his cock, before he can think to try and grab himself and tighten his hold to stop it, his cock is twitching hard and stars are going off behind his eyes as he feels his pleasure pulsing along his length. The orgasm he finds on his knees, with a cock deep in his throat, and with the knowledge that he's nothing but what he can be for the man above him, is stronger and more intense than any other he's had in years even though his cock has been completely untouched up to this point. 

Dabi moans weakly when Tomura eases his cock back, letting his head rest against Dabi's tongue, rubbing against his piercing there, as he leaks his own pre against it. That bitter, salty fluid only has another weak moan coming out of Dabi as he does it. 

"Oh, sweetheart," and the tone of condescension in his voice makes Dabi's softening prick twitch again with a delayed burst of pleasure as he feels how wet and sticky he's made his stomach from his cum. "So soon? And without waiting to get permission? We're going to have to have a longer talk about that later on, but I suppose that you won't have to be punished tonight. Not when I'm so intent on spoiling you rotten. Come here, precious." 

Tomura gets him to his feet, though Dabi stumbles like a baby deer as he does so. He gets him back onto the bed and makes him spread his legs wide before he reaches for ties that he sees are placed along the four posters of the bed, a stockade built into the foot. He ties the knots in barely a minute, tight enough that Dabi can't twist out of the ropes or close his legs if he wants to, and being so vulnerable, so exposed on the bed, with Sir looking at his soft cock and the mess that he made all over himself, his hole also visible to him at this angle as well. 

"You're so pretty like this, sweetheart," he purrs, his hands moving along his thighs and rubbing soft circles there, his head dipping so he can press kisses along the column of his throat and over his chest. He pauses to linger on his nipples, his tongue finding the skin-warmed metal of the barbells through each one, and teasing them until Dabi is letting out weak, breathy moans as his prick stings from being forced to start to build his arousal again after such an explosive orgasm before. Then Sir keeps moving lower, his tongue flicking out to taste the puddle of his spend that he left on his skin as he reaches across to the nightstand and grabs a bottle of lube out of it with practiced ease. 

When he pulls his mouth away from his skin it's to ask him, "How many times can you cum in one night, precious?" 

And just the question has him whimpering as his prick twitches hard, his nerves stinging with that sharp arousal as it goes through him. 

Sir's eyes flash with a dark satisfaction when Dabi doesn't have an answer for him. Once, maybe twice? It's been a long time since he got to focus on his own pleasure. It might not have ever been a thing he's done in any of his past relationships, and the time he's only spent masturbating for quick, easy relief. "Then tonight, your punishment for cumming without asking me, or even warning me that you were getting close, is going to be cumming over and over until your pretty cock can't make another mess. Does that sound fair, baby boy?" 

Dabi is dizzy, the smell of smoke on his breath as he barely manages to say, "Yes, Sir." 

"Good boy." 

And then Tomura's mouth is back on his skin. His fingers find Dabi's hole and he opens him up, reminding him just how good it can feel to have something inside of him as he works him up until his prostate is tingling at every touch and his prick is hard again. He gets him so close to the edge and then slips his digits out of him, replacing them with his cock at such an achingly slow pace, not to savor it, but because he wants to watch Dabi try so hard to hold on, and fail again as he cums so hard before Tomura is fully sheathed inside of his body. He fucks him long and slow, holding off his own orgasm with a control Dabi can't even concieve of as he fucks him deep, showing him how good it is to be stretched after so long of going without. 

He fills him up eventually, but only after Dabi has sobbed through his third orgasm, and even then, he's still not done, curling around Dabi's restrained form and reaching down to keep playing with his cock after he's pressed a thick, vibrating plug deep inside of him to keep his prostate stimulated and his insides warm and wet with Sir's cum. It feels so good, bad, sharp, as pleasure is made to dance along his nerves until the intensity of it turns to pain. And still on it goes. Tomura tells him how pretty he is crying, what a good boy he is, remembering his safe words when he checks in, and he doesn't stop. Not until Dabi has his face turned to cry against his skin as he manages a forth meager orgasm, his cock barely hard for it, and only a little drip of cum managing to slip from his tip. Sir gathers that on his finger and brings it to Dabi's mouth, and he latches onto that, tears still dripping down his cheeks, as Sir says that's enough for now, and gives him a kiss on the forehead before he unties him from the bed. 

Dabi isn't expecting him to then massage away the red lines on his ankles from how hard he'd been pulling at them. He doesn't expect the other man to pick him up and carry him to the bathroom, to a big spa tub that he fills with warm water as he makes Dabi bend over the sink so he can watch himself in the mirror as he starts to ease the plug out of his ruined hole. Dabi cries fresh when it still hurts so much, feels so good, that he has another orgasm. Not from his cock, but from deep inside of him and that rolls through his whole body and makes his legs weak as he watches Sir's cum drip down his thighs. 

 Tomura kisses his skin as he cleans up the mess across his body before he gets him into the tub, washing him more thoroughly until his skin is clean and his head is heavy and floaty with exhaustion. He feels like he's on the verge of passing out when Tomura carries him back to the bedroom and sits him at the trunk at the foot of the bed, making him drink a glass of cool, refreshing water as he changes the sheets. And when that's all done, instead of zipping away with an excuse or asking him to get his clothes and go, he brings Dabi back into the bed and pulls him close again. He wraps his arms around him and lets Dabi's fingers trace the lines of the tattoo that he'd given him, until his eyes grow too heavy and he slips away from the world. 

///

When Dabi wakes up the next morning, he is exhausted. His ass hurts, his cock hurts, and he is very confused because there is a different sharper pain against his lower back that is more needle-like and heavy as he comes out of sleep. He tries to shift, feeling that he's still pulled close in Tomura's embrace, and as soon as he shifts, that sharp weight moves. It scurries up his back and Dabi gets a blur of white against his face before he's stepped on as a pure white cat walks right over him so that it can stand right next to Shigaraki's head on the pillow and yowl loudly. 

Tomura's eyes open, just a bit, just with a little glare, and he grumbles. "I have a guest, Onigiri." 

The cat flicks its tail in clear response to what it thinks of that as Dabi starts to straighten a little. Tomura lets him, sitting up as well, the cat moving to sit on its owner's lap, as they all three regard each other for a minute, before Shigaraki starts to pet the animal with his still-gloved hand before the other reaches to curl gently around the back of Dabi's neck again. He pulls him closer and Dabi knows his morning breath tastes like ash, but Tomura doesn't seem to care about that as he kisses him as slowly and sweetly as he did the night before. 

"Stay for breakfast?" He asks when they part, and Dabi only manages to nod a bit before the other is starting to pull him back in for another kiss. This one is a little hotter than the first, but it doesn't go anywhere as the cat informs them once again that it too would like breakfast first and foremost.

///

It's probably bad form to get together with someone else immediately after leaving another relationship, but Dabi can't bring himself to care. The morning after their first time, Tomura had called off anything he had to do for the day and spent hours with Dabi. He listened to him talk the way that he had before, and he made it clear that he was more than willing to wait for however long Dabi needed if he wasn't actually ready to commit to something long-term or casual right now. He would have just been happy to have him for however long he was able to have him. He also told Dabi, upfront, that the tattoo parlor he had accepted the guest spot at, was one of his other businesses, and when Dabi had been confused about that, he'd very gently let him know that he was the owner of V, not just an instructor, that his penthouse is the upper floor of the club, something he'd thought Dabi had known because that information is on the 'about us' section of the website. Thankfully, he hadn't made Dabi linger on that too long, and Dabi asked for a week to think about this and see how he was feeling before they had a more serious conversation about where to go from here, if there is actually anywhere or if the chemistry on Dabi's side had just been his desperation to reach out and find someone who was giving him the attention that he wasn't getting before. 

Tomura had been kind and understanding about that, had let him work the full period unperturbed at the tattoo shop that is absolutely a money laundering scheme, and moved the fuck on. When they met back up for coffee and a conversation at the end of the week, they had both gotten banned from the restaurant and only escaped possible arrest from the bribe Tomura had given them because Dabi got way too loud when they'd ended up in the bathroom, Tomura's hand down his pants as he told him how many ways he was looking forward to having him if he still wanted to be his. 

He still went to the other places that he'd lined up before, went back to Fukuoka to stick around with Simon until he hired a replacement, and within three months, he was back in Kamino, his stuff moved into the apartment alongside Tomura's. In seven months, a day collar became a permanent addition to his attire. 

And after a year, he knows that he's being good waiting for Sir to come back from his last meeting of the night, dinner already made and just waiting for them to eat before they decide what to do with the rest of the night. He knows that when he sees what he made for him, he'll be happy, that he'll reward Dabi for the effort and especially be pleased that Dabi was able to get through every other task on his schedule today. Those thoughts keep him from getting too angry when he thinks about the news that aired earlier. 

Tomura comes upstairs through the elevator instead of the door, so he must have been doing final checks before opening the club, and as soon as he steps inside, both he and Onigiri who was playing with his ribbon chaser perk up. 

"Welcome home," he says as he immediately sits up as the cat races off to purr and rub around Tomura's legs. 

"Thank you, firefly. Did you have a good day?" He asks as he moves over to the conversation pit and steps down so that he can give Dabi a kiss as Oni demands pats as well. 

"Work was good." He manages, but when he can't say much more than that, Tomura frowns slightly and shoos Onigiri out of the way enough so that he can sit down with him on the couch. 

"But?" He prompts gently. 

He lets Dabi press against his side as he mumbles. "All Might retired." 

And he knows that Tomura has no love for heroes, All Might especially, though he hasn't ever elaborated why, though Dabi suspects it has something to do with the mysterious dearly departed adoptive father who somehow bequeathed Tomura a wide variety of quirks he hides from the public. And while he tries to conduct his business mostly in the shadows, his hatred of heroes is well known, even getting into a public fight with Midnight over not allowing her entry to the club because she turned up thinking that she would be able to get in without having a clean test because she's the 'symbol of BDSM' in Japan. But he feels how his lover tenses as he says that. "Why is that bothering you, baby?" He asks, and no matter his feelings on the subject, he's gentle about it, ready to listen to him and understand where he's coming from, which gives Dabi the resolve to say the words that he has been avoiding for years now, even before he ever met Tomura. 

"Endeavor's number one now. He's... my father, and he only ever had kids because he thought that we would get him to that goal instead. Treated us like shit when we couldn't do what he wanted, and when my quirk got too powerful for my body, he threw me aside like trash. He hasn't ever looked for me in all of the years since I left the house. Pisses me off that he got to his goal by default." 

Tomura doesn't say anything at all for a minute, but when he does speak again, it's after he's wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm sorry, firefly. But I hope you know your worth more than he ever made you feel." He says sweetly, and Dabi doesn't know if he'll ever fully believe that, but he does know that he's more primed to since Tomura came into his life than he was before it. "And if you want the number one and two heroes destroyed, all you have to do is say the word, precious. I can make sure that they hurt. Whether you want their heads on a spike or you just want them to watch as their polished images crumble apart around them." 

He hasn't ever told him just how much of a villain, or a criminal, he is, but Dabi doesn't doubt for a second that he would do exactly that to both of them. He thought Tomura might go out into the street and rip Hawks's wings off with his bare hands the very first time Dabi had told him who he was after Hawks did an interview with some magazine and told them the sad story of how he'd been cruelly left by his partner, making it sound like Dabi had been unreasonable and selfish, thinking he was more important that the rest of the country, and who just up and left him heartbroken out of the blue. But for now, just knowing that kind of ruthlessness is an option, that Tomura will ignore any long-term plans he's clearly been working on to change this world so that he can be certain that something isn't hurting Dabi, is enough for him.

He shakes his head to have him hold off and Tomura presses another kiss to his temple before he reaches for the sketchbook that Dabi abandoned shortly before he'd come in. "This looks so good, firefly." He says, looking at the celestial moth with a shattered crown that he has been working on for a few weeks now. 

Dabi manages to push away some of his frustration, anger, helplessness, and focus on what actually matters to him right now. "Yeah? Is there anything that you want me to change? It's going to be on your body forever." 

"No, it's perfect, Dabi, and I can't wait to show it off. Did you find out if it has to all be done during the contest?" They are able to shift to talking about their days, about what they're going to do over the next few days, and Tomura never lets an effort he makes to be good for him go to waste. It's taken a while, but that's helped Dabi to be happy with what he can do, what he is for himself, instead of only finding value in what he can be for the people around him. If he and Tomura broke up tomorrow, he would still have a thriving career, he would know that he could find someone else, that he could be worthy of falling in love again and not accept being given the bare minimum in a relationship.

He just also knows that he's not ever going to let Tomura go. No matter if the heroes, his business rivals, or anyone else comes after him. Dabi would go villain too, burn down the whole world before he let someone pull them apart, and it's the right thought for him to linger on, because by the time dinner is over, he's starting to get warmer and Sir immediately notices, eager to fan the flames hotter beneath his skin without worrying about getting burned as he does. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment/ask. If you'd like to get a commission, consider checking out my guidelines, which can be found right here! Commissions are currently 50% off throughout the month of June!

[moodymisty]

I remember this sending some time ago a variation of this fic to a Warhammer fic blog but I don't actually remember which. But I guess since I love your writing I would send it here too!!

The Hanging Gardens of Babylon were allegedly build by the Neo-Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar II for his Median wife, Queen Amytis, because she missed the green hills and valleys of her homeland. Even though it is probably a legend, I believe this is one of the greatest acts of love that ever existed! Now let's imagine this with sweet little baby boy Rogal Dorn. There has been already some time since he became the Praetorian of Terra and his beloved wife is desperately missing their homeworld, Inwit. It was a harsh place, with unyielding winters and deadly temperatures, but it was still home. Due to his love for his wife, Dorn builds a place just for herself, where she could practically live in the home where she grew up.

The Emperor, in the background, asks himself how could his generals, especially the one who's personality is that he has no personality, could be so emotional 😭🙏

Author's note: A very short thing, but this idea is cute and it's Dorn so <3 Relationships: Rogal Dorn/Fem!Reader Warnings: None

Dorn considers most verbal promises and declarations or fealty meaningless.

It was easy to say something, to promise loyalty and adoration. To act upon it and prove it was another thing entirely; What he abides by. He will never say he loves you in a million different saccharine ways- simply because why would he say it, when he could do it.

While it hadn't been intended, The Phalanx had become your home as the Crusade progressed. Dorn had little desire to have his wife so far away, even if he was far too busy to actually spend much time with you at all. To simply know you were close at hand and safe behind his stalwart walls and men was adequate enough for his peace of mind. His showing of love was assuring your safety.

However, you missed Inwit.

The cold brick of Inwit's main hold had been your home for some time now, and while the Phalanx was also quite cold, there was no wind whipping and slipping between the bricks, no constant snowfall, and no fire to sit by.

The unfamiliarity of the Phalanx had dampened your mood considerably over time. Even his men had noticed, oddly enough.

"Lady Dorn seems, forlorn. Has something been amiss?"

Dorn had, in the few moments he could catch for himself, begun to plan something for you. The Phalanx was massive, it would be easy enough to take one of it's many rooms and repurpose it for his needs. If his wife was dissatisfied, it was simply his duty to fix it.

He never mentioned it to you, in the time you had together he preferred to listen and enjoy said time rather than go on and on about his blueprints and his plans.

And perhaps, the idea of it being a bit of a surprise was appealing to him. A gift for the Lady of the Imperial Fists.

Upon letting you in, you were instantly greeted with the familiar smell of firewood. The crackle of pieces breaking, the ever so slight burn of smoke. It complimented the sight of so many things you found familiar; The bookshelves, the chaise, the fur pelts, it felt like home.

His secret project was finished after a few Terran months; It had unfortunately taken more time that he anticipated. Being unimportant in the grand scheme meant much else came before it. The next private moment he had with you he was quick to inform you he had something to share, and walked with the expectation you would follow. After only a short walk from your shared quarters he lead you to what would be the most complicated thing he had made for you yet.

Yet, being a key word for Dorn.

You could tell something was off about him right away, smart as you were. Even in his stoicism you kept looking up at him cautiously, trying to sniff out what was different. You knew him far better than he might like to say, if asked. No one could ever say that Lady Dorn didn't know her husband well.

Dorn never said a word the entire time- only watched as you touched every little thing. Your approval was immediate, sitting on the chaise and wrapping yourself in one of the pelts. The fur was soft against your skin and encircled your body with a comfortable heaviness. Dorn came over, and keeled in front of you.

While it was almost blasé sounding, Dorn's declaration of such an expected thing revealed a bit more of him than one might assume.

"Why did you do all this?" His answer was stereotypically muted and neutral.

"You missed Inwit."

To go through so much effort to recreate something down to the scent, simply because his wife was homesick. You've only heard him say the word love no more than three or more times, but each day he proved that he would move moons and stars simply to appease his lady.

You leaned forward, and your lips chastely pressed against his for a moment.

"Thank you, Rogal."

[someone-writing]

Today's menu:⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ Headcanon 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Dr.Spencer Reid, the kind of man who fell in love with them somewhere between the aisles of ice cream and frozen pizza. gender neutral!reader x Spencer

Spencer Reid… is, in my eyes, a man who appreciates good music outside of the classical world, but he never quite understood the hype about most song lyrics or melodies.

But the night when his partner had just finished dinner, he was tired after a long case, and the playlist was slowly inching toward its end… Under Pressure came on.

It started innocently: his partner softly humming and swinging their head to the rhythm as they were washing some of the dishes.

It ended with forgotten dishes, the song turned all the way up, and dancing around the living room, giddily whispering the last parts of the lyrics in the company of David Bowie’s voice to the man who holds them.

⋆. Because love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night… ˚⋆

“You know…” The whisper against their ear was soft. “The day I’m... I'm going to marry you… I know it sounds weird, but… I think I’d rather hold you to Bowie than Paillard, even though that’s… traditionally the one, right? I-I mean, Canon in D is statistically one of the most used wedding songs in history...

But I think… I don’t want to add to that statistic this time. Because that--that song just feels more like us. More like what I didn’t know I needed… until you didn’t yell at me for the coffee thing.”

A small breath in. A dry swallow.

“I think... that I want to hold you in my arms and listen to David Bowie as he describes the way I’ve felt since the day I tripped over my feet, spilled coffee on you, and you, instead of sending me to hell. you… you asked me to repeat it, but add a coffee invitation.”

𐙚˚࿔...𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Spencer Reid... is a man with more than enough on his plate. But the moment he notices something is wrong with his partner, he drops anything and everything—that isn’t literally breathing down his neck or threatening to get him killed or fired—and he becomes the best support system he can possibly piece together.

There’s a difference, of course, between a fresh relationship and a long-term one.

In a new relationship, he doesn’t quite know his footing yet. So, he just starts doing small things.

Washed dishes without saying a word when he’s staying over? Done. Silently prepping everything his partner might need for the next workday? Done. Staying up late when they need to work on something? He’s there—taking his own notes, helping to keep things organized, even preparing a cup (or two) of green tea.

He doesn’t always know how to talk to his partner yet, but he’s doing everything he can to take the weight off their shoulders in small, meaningful ways.

But once he’s in a long-term relationship?

The first question is always: Do you want to be heard, or do you want help?

If things are tough, he usually knows before the first sigh that leaves their lips. And if his partner is okay with touch, he leans in carefully and rests his head on their shoulder, hands gently running up and down their arm, maybe even a quiet side hug.

"Eight minutes. Tell me anything and everything. You don’t even have to talk about it. Just... speak to me."

𐙚˚࿔...𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Spencer Reid... knows how to knit and he gave his partner the scarf he knitted for his Fourth Doctor costume because they’ve been wearing it anyway, and he loves the idea that, when he wears it to the next convention, it’s been lived in. It’s loved, even through normal life.

And he folds like a chair if his partner ever knits, crochets, or sews something for him.

𐙚˚࿔...𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Spencer Reid... who has seen nearly every documentary under the sun, but his soft spot? BBC nature documentaries narrated by Sir David Attenborough.

His partner loves to imitate the voice once in a while and describe what the “genius” is currently doing, and yes, Spencer fights back in kind.

“And here we can see Homo sapiens sapiens domesticus on their next hunt for cheese sticks. It’s a ritualistic behaviour, but it’s unusual to see them leave their den this early in the evening... Perhaps the hunger is greater than we expected. We will see if the hunt is successful this time…” And he has always a hard time to keep the grin from his face.

𐙚˚࿔...𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Spencer Reid... who is totally up to the night snacks.

He grumbles that it’s definitely not healthy for either of them when they’re dragging a chocolate cake back from the 24/7 shop down the corner—but life is too short. He may not come back home from the next case or case after that.

He knows what it means to not come home. 

So what is life, really, without 2 a.m. cake and his partner snuggled against his side while they watch the city lights flicker below the window?

𐙚˚࿔...𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Spencer Reid... in my eyes, is the kind of man who wants to do dates right.

He tries: expensive restaurants, bouquets of flowers, candlelight. He follows the social scripts. He means well.

But the night his partner suggested ditching the fancy restaurant they’d booked, he thought he’d done everything wrong. That was all he knew about how romance was supposed to work.

Until that moment.

But when they took his hand in theirs and started the conversation about how his day was and then announcing that they were craving cheap ramen and sweets, he understood more.

There was something magical about two overdressed people walking through evening-time Washington D.C., making their way to Chinatown.

Watching the confused old man behind the counter as they stepped into the shop… wandering the aisles, searching for gummy worms and those off-brand Snickers bars—he started to see the beauty in it.

The way the milky store lights danced in their eyes as they held up a gummy eyeball next to theirs and made a face. The way they asked if he could handle extra spicy ramen. The question about which of the sodas looked more radioactive. The half-hour hunt through the freezers for that one specific type of ice cream he definitely needed to try in their opinion because everyone should taste that awful blue ice cream with chocolate lentils in it.

“Every child should taste that awful blue one with the chocolate lentils in it,” they’d said. “I want to see you give a treat to the small boy you used to be. The one who deserved this. Bit overdue, but... I think he would like it. And I think the adult you will hate it with a passion.”

Yeah. He fell in love with them even more.

Right there, between the aisles of ice cream and frozen pizza.

Guess who is stuck with the series? So, here is at least a bit more of the headcanon I'm entertaining myself with for now. This one is mostly relationship focused one... but I want to do a few 'normal life' ones too in the near future. And I may try to write a short piece about the store date... Well, that would be it for today! In case I don't see ya, good morning, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!

[quietplace26]

hey so can I have scenario with venti and reader, where he has a crush and he and them have gone on a long trek for fun or he’s asked them for help with a big task and he’s all serious and crush agrees. They have fun/get the job done. By end of it though crush is very exhausted and straight is like “ Ey, let me use your shoulder/lap” and uses them as pillow and passes out?

I can try? Venti isn't a character I usually write about so it might be a little awkward...

...MC thought the worse when Venti came up to them, face serious and dark.

"I need your help." And MC tosses the book they had been reading to the side and rush to follow him, thinking some great catastrophe had happened-

-Only to find out the 'thing' Venti needed help with is helping him clean up a very dirty looking Dvalin.

The Ameno Dragon looked like it went through a mud storm as it crouched embarrassingly in front of MC while Venti gives them a sheepish look and his signature 'ehe'.

MC looks at him blanky, before sighing in fond exasperation. "You're lucky I like you, Venti."

MC completely miss the blush that spreads across his cheeks as they walk past him and asks Dvalin to follow them to a nearby pond.

They also miss the lovesick look Venti gives them as he follows behind.

Unsurprising, giving a giant Dragon a bath was a tiring experience, but also rather fun as water was splashed around.

And Venti was tossed into the water by a bratty Dvalin.

Venti sputters out water and glares at his friend son melt like putty in MC's hands as they scrub mud and gunk out his feathers and fur.

By the time the duo was finished and Dvalin was clean, his feather and fur that bright green again, the pair had flopped down beside the now snoozing Dragon who decided now was a good time for a nap.

MC, exhausted, follows in Dvalin's lead, and flops down like a rag doll, letting their head fall on Venti's lap.

They barely notice him tense up, looking down with wide eyes and pink cheeks.

"'m gonna take a nap... ple'se sing? 'ike your voice..."

The blush darkens, and a soft smile grows on the Ameno Archon's face.

"Of course~"

And MC easily drifts off to sleep to the sound of Venti's voice and his hand brushing through their hair... and to the quiet whisper of-

"Anything for you... my Cecilia flower, my love~"

[6feathered6siren6]

I’ve had this thought for a while,

What if the MC was a cannibal but when they joined the server nobody knew until one day it just comes out. Like imagine Angles reaction 😭

Savory Dishes

Authors note: I wrote this quickly, but I enjoyed writing this. Might continue this as Angel x Reader making dinner together, or reader making them soup while Angel is sick. Dunno yet. Anyway, please stay hydrated during this heatwave. Enjoy o7

Trigger warnings:

Human meat/cannibalism

Prepping human meat for dishes

---

Addictive. Savory, and delicious. It was hard to get human meat, either from having to kill or getting it on the black market. But human meat was your go to meat. It was better than other products you have tried in the past. 

Prepping and making food with it was an adventure of its own, since there weren't many recipes out there to get. From stew to skewers to sandwiches. But not only from prepping but testing each part was also a journey. 

–

It’s been a couple months since you found this weird server you have been invited to. And with the jokes you have been hearing, Angel was also a cannibal like you, though they have denied it often, so you don’t know if it was true. But the server has been fun, learning how each one kills to their own personal adventures in life. 

You checked the server through your phone as you cooked. Making yourself a version of stew with human meat, it was a bit of a process, but it was worth it. You watch the server plan a voice call with little plan, just a random call with a small topic about killing. You just shrugged and figured to join later. 

Once you were done, you got a bowl of your stew, letting the stew to cool down further before putting it away. Getting onto your computer, clicking it on, and waiting for it to boot before joining the server’s discord. 

Joining in, there was mostly everyone, except Ai hua and Vince. But there was everyone, and they were on the topic of body parts. From what you could catch. 

“Look, if there has to be a part to eat, I would say it would be a thigh!” Luca yelled into your speakers. 

“Luca,” Feli dragged out the word as her boyfriend finished his turn. “Why do you have to bring this up again?”

“Why not, Fel, this has to be a conversation with the rest of the server!” 

Feli groaned. 

Ronin spoke, even though you couldn’t see his face, you see he was pleased with talking about eating people. “Yeah, Angel, this should be a topic up your alley.” He chuckled. 

“Really, Ro?” Angel groaned, you can see her eyes roll even though you can’t see her.

Misaki patted their desks as they got excited, “Oh, oh! The eyes have to be good! Right? They are like gushers or a popping dumpling.”

You paused from lifting your fork to your mouth to speak. “Nah, they taste nasty. They are really nasty, I would say neck or upper torso.” Then take a bite of the stew.

The VC became quiet. Like deathly quiet. 

“HUH?!” That was the only thing you heard before the VC crashed on you, kicking you out. Somehow, it took a moment, before you join back in. 

“Sorry about that,” You said. “I got randomly kicked out. Now what happened?”

“READER!” Misaki yelled out. 

Ronin spoke, “Guess Angel isn’t alone eating us. We got another to help her. Guess you gotta share now, Angel.” 

Angel groaned. 

“Yes, Misaki?” You said, mid-bite.

“Cannibal? You? I thought you just… y’know kill people but eat them too?”

“Yes, I eat people, I’m eating human stew, which by the way, perfectly made.”

V was weirdly silent, but it might be because he’s just listening in. 

“So that’s why you know!” Luca yelled out, “You eat them!”

You snort.

“Look, if you know how to cook it, bring the Saint with you, I’m sure she would enjoy your time making a divine dish.”

Angel was also quiet, you didn’t notice, but befores you could worry about anything. She said, “That would be interesting.”

—

From that day, they demanded some photos of the food you eat. Sandwiches with sliced meat, bbq ribs, and so much more, there were days where you were asked for recipes. But they were shocked with how much experience you have with human meat. But then again, it was your preferred meat.

[couriers-mile]

I enjoy the implication in Origins that Zevran isn't a very good fighter when we meet him and then after Origins he was utterly terrorizing the Crows. All the levels he gained in the Warden's party actually made him a canonically, significantly more dangerous fighter than he was when the Warden met him.

[azaracyy]

a lesson on good karma digimon survive week 2024 day 4: supporting characters

[appystruda]

Small ramble about my art

[humming-fly]

Inktober Day 26 - Discarded

Once again I've started rereading @post-it-notes7's fic Heart and Soul and am as always having a Wonderful time with it unlike the protagonists

(will probably go back in and add the shading later but for now it's 2am so it's gettin posted!)