#so they get a parental figure in the form of a god

[princeofuchiha]

Half baked au thats been floating around my head for months:

Hatake!Tobirama AU where different packs have different wolf-isms / abilities. And the pack Tobirama's mother was from had the ability to shapeshift.

Only. Tobirama lost his mom at a young age, leaving him without anyone to guide him or you know. Warn him at all.

So when he is badly injured in a fight and his adrenaline takes over, pushing him into his wolf form in one last ditch effort to survive, he has no idea how to handle it.

What he double doesn't know how to handle is Izuna, who finds him half dead and goes "Oh my god, it's a wolf puppy. I bet if I heal it it'll love me and I can have my own summoning contract way before everyone else my age!! That silver haired freak will never see it coming."

Que Izuna dragging a half dead Tobirama back home, tending to his injuries and hiding him from his parents and brothers because he knows they'll never let him keep him. Splitting his rations going I'm A Genius. I Get A Pet And A Weapon. Dad's Going To Be So Proud. Eventually.

Meanwhile Tobirama is trying with everything in him not to bite the one thing keeping him alive (his bastard rival) while trying to figure out how to escape / listening for intel.

Him spending time in the house waiting for the other shoe to drop. And being absolutely bewildered when Tajima is. Not the best parent by any means but like. Certainly better to his kids up front vs the shit he's used to dealing with with Batsuma. And Izuna and Madara. Honestly aren't as evil incarnate as he's been raised to believe.

He's watching Izuna run into the room and all but throw himself on the bed absolutely livid that the adults won't let him join them on their upcoming hunt. And opting to do the most reasonable and mature thing - rant to the wolf puppy with a leg too broken to run away and ignore him.

He's watching Madara sneak in and out of the house each night, horrified and outraged to smell Hashirama's scent on him every damn time he comes home. Usually with a stupid giddy grin he's shoving down.

He's watching Tajima walk circles around the compound when he can't sleep, sharingan whirling with protectiveness of all things as he watches over his sleeping clansmen.

He's watching day by day with the horrible realization that the Uchiha truly are Human. Growing attached to the warmth they radiate while also. Not able to go a full 24 hours without considering biting someone.

[extrasfromthevoid]

Draxum's Accidental Child Acquisition (part 1/?)

@tmntbestsibscompetiton

Summary: How Milo (though that's not yet her name) found her way into the Hidden City and into the care of the one and only Baron Draxum

OR Draxum's adventures in parenting.

----

In an innermost back alley of New York City, there is a very bored girl.

The plain red ball she’d been given—or found, she doesn’t remember—is nice, but she’s running out of games she can play on her own with it and there’s no one around to play with her.

She picks up the ball once again as it rolls back to her feet from where she kicked it against the brick wall.

The city around her thrums with activity, but the late hour means that there’s no one around.

How did this lone child end up in the depths of New York City alone? Well, even she doesn’t know that. It doesn’t matter to her anyway as the sole thought at the forefront of her mind is that she is incredibly bored.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a curious flicker of light in the corner of her eye. Looking up, a curious orb of light zips over her head.

Mesmerized, the rubber ball drops from her hands as she reaches up for the light. It weaves gracefully through her fingers before darting away, its pale blue light pulsing cheerfully. Without hesitation, she chases after it, heedless of the rubber ball bouncing away behind her, quickly abandoned.

The orb zips around the corner into a nearby alley and—strangely—through the wall behind a dumpster. She—being two and a half by generous estimates—didn’t even notice as she crossed a threshold from the surface city, to the hidden one. — She loses sight of the fun orb pretty quickly, but new wonders catch her attention pretty quickly as what once seemed to her to be a quiet city now explodes with light, life, and color. The toddler twirls around with wide eyes, trying to take in as much of her new environment as possible.

And boy is it a change from before. The surface city was quiet in its own way, save for the sounds of traffic and the occasional dog. She didn’t know, but it was late enough that it was now early, and while the City That Never Sleeps certainly lives up to its name, its comparatively sleepy early morning state can’t hold a candle to the sensory explosion of the underground city.

Giggling, she starts to run down the streets, weaving between the fascinating people walking around. She’s never seen such a fun place before! People walk around with extra sets of arms, horns, tails, wings, and all manner of skin colors and textures, and so much more!

The air smells of hot, spiced food, carts zoom through the air, pulled by creatures she can’t identify. Everything around her hums with life and energy.

It's exciting!

She pushes past two people to reach a balcony over looking a glittering city that follows the curves of the cavern and shining with all the colors of the rainbow.

She stands on the base of the railing though her chin only barely makes it over the top.

“Uh...who’s kid is that…?”

“Dunno. Do you see any panicked parent-looking types around?”

“Nah. Should we bother doing something?”

“Eh…it’ll work itself out. Long as they don’t bug me…”

Heedless, the toddler steps away from the balcony’s railing and continues to wander deeper into this fascinating new environment. — Baron Draxum is all around having a fairly rotten day. The Council of Heads has once again dismissed his concerns about the human threat and Big Mama has once again refused to release Lou Jitsu into his custody. Nothing seems to be going Draxum’s way today and it has left him in a foul mood.

So he’s going to indulge in a little of his favorite vendor food to help soothe his fraying nerves.

Just as he’s about to partake, something thumps into his legs harshly enough for him to stumble, nearly dropping his delectable indulgence and with it, the last shreds of his sanity.

He whips around, teeth bared in a menacing sneer at whoever was foolish enough to run into him. “Watch where you—“

Draxum's rage stutters as his eyes turn down towards the culprit. Sprawled on their back at his hooves is a toddler with two messy buns and a pair of overalls. A human toddler. Draxum wrinkles his nose in disgust as the wretched spawn blinks up at him with wide, dark eyes.

Draxum reaches down and picks the toddler up by the back of their clothes. They weigh very little. “How did you get in here, spawn?” He asks.

To his surprise—and annoyance—the spawn doesn’t answer. Instead, it lets out a shrieking laugh as it dangles from Draxum’s hand, feet kicking out wildly in the open air. It seems to enjoy being held like this, strangely enough.

Curious, Draxum glances around the mulling crowd. Various yokai go about their business, casting occasional curious glances in the direction of him and the human spawn, but none seem eager to claim it for themselves. From where he stands, Draxum spies no other humans in the crowd, and certainly no one that looks frantic enough to have misplaced this little creature.

Did it wander in her all on its own somehow? Draxum wonders.

An idea percolates in Draxum’s mind as he takes a bite of his food, looking over the tiny giggling human in his grasp. Perhaps, this could be an opportunity. After all, how often would Draxum be able to examine and study human behaviors from the outset of their infancy?

And more importantly, shape them. If some disgusting human couldn’t be bothered to keep a better eye on their own spawn, then perhaps it was better off with Draxum anyway.

Curiously, the spawn seems unperturbed by neither Draxum’s appearance nor the general sight of the Hidden City. It continues reaching for Draxum with pudgy hands, repeating the syllable “ba” over and over.

Draxum hums, mind made up. He takes a bite of his treat and then tucks the still giggling human-ling under his arm and walks off in the direction of his home and lab.

Perhaps if he’s lucky, this creature will become an excellent soldier. And wouldn’t it be ironic if the one to lead Draxum’s army to take back the surface world from those disgusting humans was human themself? He smiles a little at the thought. Yes, this may work out nicely.

——— As it turns out, raising a human spawn is harder than Draxum thought. Namely, the specimen—that Draxum has taken to simply calling Spawn—is the most disagreeable and stubborn creature humanity has ever produced. He has determined that Spawn is approximately two and a half years old and biologically of the female variety, but that is about all he was able to discern as Spawn refused to stay still for any further examination and forced Draxum to chase her through the lab, giggling the whole way as if they were playing a game. She may not be very fast on those unsteady legs of hers, but the clutter in Draxum’s lab makes catching her a chore whenever she darts through openings Draxum can’t pass through. Especially since the little creature seems to find Draxum’s frustration with her antics highly amusing.

On top of this, the Spawn refuses to stay in her containment cell during rest hours, either wailing until Draxum comes to quiet her or breaking out herself. Most often the latter.

Spawn spends most of the night crying. Draxum has stayed to observe Spawn as she sleeps to see what exactly causes her such violent distress. So far, he has observed no external stimulus that could be responsible for Spawn’s late night outbursts. His best hypothesis from his observations is that Spawn suffers from nightmares and seeks comfort from him in their aftermath.

Further complicating matters, Spawn is not at point in her development where she is capable of workable speech. The most she is capable of is repeatedly shouting “ba” at him and babbling incoherently as she tries to mimic what Draxum says himself.

Draxum sighs heavily, holding the squirming, giggly human ahead of him from under her arms. “It seems teaching you to speak will have to be our first priority,” he says.

“Prabababe,” she echoes, lightly slapping her hand against Draxum's wrist with her meager baby strength for emphasis.

“That’s right, little Spawn. Priority,” he says, repeating the proper pronunciation of the word the child is mimicking.

“Prabababe!” She cheers loudly.

He sets her down and pats her on her head as he turns to look for a notepad. He’ll have to make a trip to the library and start putting together a lesson plan. Perhaps he should pick up some books on child-rearing while he’s there. Raising a human spawn can’t be much different than raising a young yokai, right? Not that Draxum has experience with either, however.

And then suddenly, there's a cacophonous crash behind him, followed by the piercing sound of crying.

Draxum whips around so fast that his neck muscles cramp painfully. Spawn sits amid a pile of toppled weapons, a rather nasty cut on her right forearm, likely from a wayward blade. Tears leak from her face at an impressive rate as blood wells in the wound and dribbles down her arm, splattering across the floor and soaking into her clothes.

“Ah nuts!” He shouts, diving for the sobbing child.

She curls in on herself, pulling her injured arm close to her chest, further staining her outfit with the blood seeping from the wound, and burying her face into Draxum’s kimono as she wails. Draxum shudders involuntarily as he feels Spawn’s face fluids soak into his clothes.

“Spawn, cease this and let me inspect your injury,” he orders, prying her arm out so he can examine it.

The bad news is that it’s a fairly deep wound. The good news is that it’s also a clean one. While it speaks to the quality of the blade that caused it, it’s deep enough that this will doubtlessly require stitches.

Looks like I’ll need to put those somewhere she can’t reach, Draxum thinks as he digs through a drawer for his medical kit. A little difficult with a child in his arm, but not impossible.

He finds it tucked all the way in the back, of course. Regardless, Draxum retrieves the supplies and sets to work, all while cursing his past self for leaving him so ill-prepared.

Spawn continues to squirm and wail and cry, but Draxum doesn’t let her yank her injured arm away as he expertly stitches the long wound on her forearm closed and wraps it securely with sterile bandages. Fortunately, once Draxum completes the stitches, Spawn’s squirming lessens and her cries quiet down to blissful silence, though one punctuated by an occasional hiccuping sob. Still, it's a great deal better than the shrill wailing Spawn had committed herself to just moments ago.

His work completed and his subject thoroughly exhausted from her emotional display, Draxum sits back in his chair, staring indifferently at the mess of bandages and cleansing solution strewn over his lab table. As if sensing the opening in Draxum's defenses, Spawn wastes no time scooting herself off of the table and plopping gracelessly into Draxum’s lap.

“Hey!” He exclaims indignantly.

Predictably, the little creature pays no heed to Draxum’s protests as she curls up against his chest, gripping his robes with her tiny hands and tucking her wounded arm carefully against her own chest. And she soon falls asleep.

Draxum sighs lightly. “At least she’s finally quiet…” — Draxum swiftly returns a thoroughly exhausted Spawn to her containment cell. Detangling her is a bit of a challenge as her tiny hands are deceptively strong and grip his robes so tightly he’d momentarily feared they’d rip as he dislodged her. Tear tracks dry on her cheeks as she dozes against the pillows, the bandages covering her injury standing out starkly against the dark bedding. Even through the bandages, a faint light shines through, tracing the length of the injury.

The wound has a mystic quality to it that, Draxum concludes. He finds it odd, seeing as the chances of this random human toddler having mystic potential it laughably small. Most likely, that mystic quality came from whatever Spawn cut herself on.

“Still,” he muses quietly to himself. “It may be worth a look. Just in case.”

Packing away his medical supplies, Draxum turns his attention back to the pile of weapons he will need to find a new home for. Preferably out of a certain nosy—and fragile—human’s reach.

Over the course of his long life, Draxum has become steward of many interesting mystic weapons. Some owners return for their stowed weapons, but many never do for one reason or another. Usually it’s because they no longer need it or forget about it, but some are items of terrible power that are better off tucked away and hopefully forgotten by the inevitable march of time. Draxum can only hope that Spawn didn’t cut herself on one such weapon.

Finding the weapon doesn’t take long, as it’s the only one in the pile with bright red blood glistening along its edge.

“Hm. The odachi…,” Draxum muses, picking up the sword in one hand and reaching for the rag with another. “Not the worst possible outcome.”

He’ll have to keep an eye on Spawn for any adverse effects. The blade of this particular odachi is capable of cutting the fabric of space just as easily as it cuts flesh. Draxum can’t rightly say what might happen in this case, if anything at all. It’s doubtful--though not impossible under the right circumstances--that Spawn will gain powers like the odachi’s or lose parts of herself suddenly, but Draxum admittedly hasn’t cleaned the blade in some time, so it is a much greater possibility that Spawn could contract an infection rather than powers.

He’ll have to monitor the wound carefully as it heals. Both for infection and any...peculiarities.

Draxum wipes the blade clean and sets about gathering the weapons around his lab. He rather quickly finds himself eyeing the loose, breakable beakers of caustic chemicals littering the surfaces within reach for the heedless spawn now in his care.

Part of him now regrets his impulsive decision to take in such a small, fragile creature, but…hopefully the results will be worth the present headache.

(Next)

[digitaldiseas3]

extremely frustrating situation

[sutorus]

BAD IDEA RIGHT? BEST FRIEND'S DAD!TOJI for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: you and megumi are old friends, but a recent development (called growing up) has made you aware of just how hot his dad, toji fushiguro, really is. you sit on your desire for years until one night, you get an idea. 

PAIRING: best friend’s dad!fushiguro toji x reader

WC: 5.1k whoops!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORDS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, age gap! power dynamics, slight daddy kink, degradation, spit (like a lot it's a Thing here), oral (m! receiving), unprotected relations, slapping, gaping, size difference/size kink, creampie, toji is Nasty and a pretty bad dude lol 

A/N: this is nasty and very descriptive i’m so sorry i really sinned here. anyway enjoy!

you and megumi have been friends since school. after all, it was inevitable that a friendship would form between the only two kids whose parents consistently forgot to pick them up after class. 

nods of acknowledgment quickly developed into trading pokémon cards, sharing samanco waffles, cheating off each other during tests. 

it was the most meaningful relationship you had in your life, the one other person who really got you and the situation you were in, and before you knew it, you two were being admitted to the same college, like you’d talked about all those years ago. 

in the meantime, megumi’s dad had… mellowed out. from what you knew. 

sure, he was still gone for weeks at a time, neglectful, irresponsible and womanizing, but one final falling out with their family seemed to have lifted a big weight off his shoulders, and he became more present in megumi’s life, less resentful. you knew he wasn’t a good guy, but you also knew he was trying, in his own way. 

besides that, you also couldn’t help noticing other things about the man. you first started paying attention when you were in high school, always hanging out at megumi’s place to play video games or study. 

toji would come home sometimes, smelling of smoke and sake, tonguing the scar on the side of his lip. plopping down on their shaggy sofa, legs spread wide, thick thighs straining the fabric of his pants. you would give megumi some excuse about getting something from the kitchen and just watch toji, lazily browsing channels with one hand inside his sweats. 

it wasn’t a big deal. but it never quite went away, your infatuation growing with your desperation the more the man hung around. you did everything you could to get his attention. 

you wore the frilliest, shortest skirts, left dirty dishes on the sink, showed up too late at night drunk and stumbling “looking for megumi”, acting out so you could try to get some reaction out of toji. but he never seemed to give you a second thought, annoyance being the closest thing to an emotion on his face every time your eyes met. 

but you were no quitter. you knew one day you would get what you deserved. maybe not today, but… eventually.

you approach the fushiguro household’s front door, fishing out the extra key megumi had given you from your backpack pocket. you two had a study session today but he’d texted you telling you he’d be late and to just let yourself in, so that’s what you do. 

with a sigh, you set down your laptop on their coffee table and sit down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. before you can finish getting comfortable, a tall, broad figure is looming over your face and you almost jump out of your skin. 

“what the f—oh my god,” you laugh in embarrassment. “you scared me, fushiguro-san.”

he doesn’t react, his eyes boring into yours. “me? you’re the one breaking into my house.”

you roll your eyes, pulling your legs up below your body. “megumi gave me a key. we’re supposed to study today, do you know where—“

“he’s with that itadori kid. don’t think he’s coming back tonight,” toji moves to sit down on the loveseat, turning the tv on. the old, boxy thing crackles to life, a boat race playing on the screen. toji adjusts his body in attention. “so you can fuck off back home.”

“um,” you start, but nothing else comes out of your mouth. you let your eyes wander all over his lax form, and you can faintly make out his abs below the raggedy shirt he’s wearing. it makes your stomach turn. 

without taking his eyes off the screen, he addresses you again. “you know where the door is.”

an idea starts to form in your head. a really, really bad, tempting idea.

you discreetly take off your sweatshirt, leaving you in just your undershirt, no bra. you hope toji can scent the whiff of perfume you exude when you move, scooting closer to the edge of the sofa. 

“nah, i think i’ll just study here. my parents are home today and they’re too… y’know.”

“not my fuckin’ problem,” he picks at his teeth, spreading his legs wider. your desperation is growing with each second he spends not looking at you. 

you lift up your bag, something clinking inside. it's a bold move, but it's now or never.

“i brought booze. we could just share some and then i’ll go.”

that at least gets a reaction. the man snorts, finally glancing over at you from the corner of his eyes. you instinctively push your chest out, feeling eager. 

“is that what you do with my son under my roof? get shitfaced in the house that i pay for?”

“well i paid for the vodka so i don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you make a point to pull out the bottle from your bag, swinging it around. 

toji’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. you know he doesn’t like to be challenged, absolutely hates smart mouths. you should be in for a treat. 

“who the hell do you think you’re talking to, kid?” he stands up and snatches the bottle from you, turning it around in his — big, veiny, deliciously calloused — hand and laughing. “vanilla flavored? fuck, you really are a kid.” he says it like the realization excites him. 

you can feel your face flush.

“are you gonna turn down free alcohol, toji?” it’s risky, dropping the honorific. you know he doesn’t like it, can see it in his face, but he doesn’t say anything. 

instead, he unscrews the top with ease and takes a swig, grimacing at the taste. you watch as his throat works, adam’s apple bobbing.

his arms are huge, you can’t imagine he was ever shaped like megumi is nowadays, slender and frail. toji is tall and broad and big, with a permanent 5 o’clock shadow on his defined features. 

he grabs two whiskey glasses and sets them down on the coffee table — no coasters —, pouring some vodka in both of them. it was most definitely not your idea to do straight shots tonight with megumi, but you will not go through the humiliation of asking for a soda to mix it with. 

you’re desperate to have toji view you as the adult you are, no longer megumi’s awkward middle school best friend. you know you’ve grown up well; all you need is for toji to see it too. 

you drink in silence for a bit, the only noises coming from toji being his disappointed grunts as the boats he bet on fall behind. you type away at your laptop, not really being able to focus with the heat rising within you. 

he refills both your cups a couple more times, but makes no effort to talk.

you slowly but surely start to get antsy, your determination wavering and giving way to a funny feeling one can only experience by drinking with their best friend’s dad who they’ve wanted to fuck for like, ever. 

so you bite the bullet and with the liquid courage flowing in your veins, you strike up conversation. 

“y’know, toji, i’ve always wanted to ask,” his head lolls on his shoulder to look at you lazily and disinterested. “what happened to megumi’s mom? he doesn’t talk about it.”

“yeah, well. me either,” toji replies. you take a deep breath. 

“you’re gone a lot. megumi is alone a lot.”

toji scoffs.

“thought that was what you were here for, hmm? megumi’s done well for himself,” he finally, probably for the first time in your life, gives you a proper look over, his eyes traveling all over your frame, tucked into the armrest of the couch. “scored himself a nice little bitch.”

you let out a strangled noise. you’re fighting laughter when you exclaim, “i’m sorry?! you think megumi and i have a—like, a thing?”

toji just shrugs, stretching one leg out in front of him. “i figured. why else would you loiter around my house so much?”

oh, if he only knew. 

“no, no. it’s never been like that. megumi’s not really my type.” toji hums inquisitively, and you take that as a sign to continue. “i’m into more… mature guys.”

toji eyes you knowingly, but seemingly amused. 

“that right?” you nod. “fuckin’ kid like you even know what to do with a man?”

you raise an eyebrow. you’re a sophomore in college, well into your twenties. he can’t be serious. “surely you know i’m not a kid anymore. surely you d—“

“surely my ass,” he exclaims and oh, he’s a little terrifying like this. toji downs however much was left in his cup and turns to you, pointing with the hand holding his glass. “you’re a full of shit, foul mouthed, rude brat. get the fuck out of my house, you’re pissing me off.”

you’re used to toji’s outbursts, not because you know him well but because every time you see him, seldom as it is, he always loses his temper, sooner or later. 

“i think,” you take another sip, feeling loose. “your old ass wouldn’t be able to handle sex. like, actual sex, not those rich hags you who just lay there for you and give you money in the end. if you had to put in any real work i bet your heart would give out you slimey pi—“

you can’t finish your sentence because you can’t breathe, suddenly. your eyes widen, chest spasming as your oxygen gets cut off mid-sentence. toji has one of his huge palms covering your nose and mouth.

you look up at him with watery eyes but he’s not looking back, he’s chugging vodka straight from the bottle again.

he puffs his cheeks and moves his hand to cup your jaw, smirking around a mouthful of alcohol. 

you catch your breath quickly, the hand that was clawing at his falling limply on your lap. toji holds your face, his grip unforgiving as he leans over you. his form is so, so much bigger than yours, towering over you completely, and all you can do is look up at him with a blank expression. 

his thumb pries your mouth open with ease, the digit hooking behind your bottom teeth as toji’s face gets closer and closer. on instinct, you close your eyes. 

soon, hot, stinging liquid is pouring steadily into your mouth. toji swishes the rest of the vodka between his cheeks — on purpose, you’re sure — before spitting it directly on your tongue.

it’s disgusting, everything about it makes your stomach churn, but it also makes you squeeze your legs together, chest rising and falling rapidly as you swallow without having to be told to. 

“ya talk too fuckin’ much, brat,” he grumbles. ironically, you’re at a loss for words. “someone needs put you in your place already.”

“you,” your voice cracks and nearly fails you, but you’re determined. it surprises him, that you’d have something to say. that you’re still game. you can see it in his face, in the way his hands come off of you. “i want you to.”

toji’s expression is hard and unchanging. his fingers go back to your face, two of them slipping inside your lax lips.

your breath stutters as you inhale, instinctively sucking the digits and working your tongue around them.

toji grabs his cock through his pants pointedly.

“fuckin’ slut… that what you want?” you nod. he takes a step forward, knees hitting the couch. “is that why you walk around my house looking like a fucking whore?”

a whine dies in your throat at the sweet, sweet recognition.

he noticed.

he noticed and it bothered him and you really couldn’t bring yourself to care that he was your best friend’s father right now because he was tenting his sweatpants and your mouth was watering at the sight. 

“please…” you paw at his waistband, pulling on the drawstrings. toji laughs at your desperation, voice growing gruff. 

he buries a hand in your hair, fingers closing around your locks tightly and making your eyes sting with tears. slowly, he pushes your face into his crotch, so close that you can feel it pulsing, can feel every ridge, can feel that he’s not wearing any underwear.

god, you can smell him, and it makes your head spin, your mouth huffing out hot breaths and wetting the front of his pants. 

you hook your fingers in the back of his sweats and pull until they’re down tight around his thighs. you have to maneuver the fabric over the head of his erection, earning a hiss from the man towering over you.

his dick springs up, slapping you in the face and leaving a smear of pre across the bridge of your nose. you think toji snorts at that but you can’t be sure. you’re too mesmerized.

he’s so, so big, the skin darker and flushed, tight, heavy balls and the head, angry red, peeking out from the foreskin.

your throat goes dry at the thought of it inside of you, inside any of your holes, because you know it’ll destroy you forever. and you want it. 

toji doesn’t have the appeal that most men his age do to most girls your age. he doesn’t make you feel safe, he doesn’t offer financial support, he doesn’t care about your well-being, he doesn’t have his shit together. and to make matters worse to you, he’s your best friend’s dad, who your best friend doesn’t even like that much, whose presence has been totally indifferent to megumi for most of his life. 

it makes you burn in shame to know you’re about to have a man 25 years your senior in your mouth.

you readjust your position on the couch so that you’re sitting on your knees, angling your face with his cock. it’s curved, pointing up, and you wonder how much of it he’s gonna wanna stuff down your throat. judging by the pure evil glinting in his eyes, it’s gonna be as much as possible. 

you take a deep breath, steadying a hand around his length. it’s concerning that you can just barely close your fingers around him, but you put that thought aside to focus on pulling the skin down gently so you can wrap your lips around the tip. 

toji sighs in relief, his grip in your hair tightening.

you begin to work your head up and down, licking the underside of his cock to gather up saliva. 

“thaaat’s it, what a good little bitch. got a sweet little mouth on ya,” he whispers, hips thrusting slightly to work his cock further into your mouth. “yer gonna take all of it? or are ya all talk?”

you whine, gripping the base and sliding further down his length. he’s already hitting the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your stomach seize. you pick up the pace, twisting your wrist rhythmically as you suck him. 

“don’t swallow,” he threatens, forcing his cock deeper into you, the head sliding into the opening of your throat. “lemme see how messy this slutty face can get.”

you choke audibly, eyes smarting with tears, makeup smudging. you look up at him with furrowed brows in a silent plea of mercy. 

toji’s having none of it.

he puts one foot down on the sofa, next to your legs, giving himself the leverage to start fully fucking your face now. he wraps both hands around your throat and thrusts his hips violently into your mouth, his thumbs pressing down to feel his length in your throat. 

“ahh, fuck,” he throws his head back, reveling in your desperate gurgles. you feel like a fucking ragdoll, like a fleshlight, unable to control the noises you make or how much dick you take. “takin’ me so well. who taught you to squeeze your throat like that, huh? so fuckin’ slutty.” 

you sob around his cock, nose buried in his pubes. he’s impossibly hard, impossibly wet as thick strings of spit and pre hang from your lips, dripping down to his balls, falling to the floor.

toji keeps fucking your throat relentlessly, granting you mere seconds between thrusts to inhale a desperate breath that immediately starts to burn in your lungs. 

he’s a fucking sight though, above you. chin tucked into his chest, veins bulging and biceps flexed, nostrils flared as he watches you devour him. 

he pulls out suddenly, leaving you choking for air. tears stream down your face, spit bubbling out of your nostril. you look all wrong, like you’d been put back together by someone after being utterly demolished.

“open your mouth,” toji orders. you obey and he grabs his cock, slapping the head against your tongue a few times. he slides his length in and out for a bit before he starts jerking himself off. “suck my balls.” 

you take that moment to swallow down the saliva that had pooled between your teeth, tucking away the wet strands of hair that frame your face.

toji’s lifting his cock towards his belly, fisting the head and flicking his wrist. he looks at you expectantly, and you understand it’s time to prove yourself once again. 

you place a gente thumb right below his shaft, where his sack hangs. your tongue dips in between his balls, shyly at first, just slightly tracing the shape of them before you pop one into your mouth. 

toji groans, the hand on his cock gaining speed. you squeeze your thighs together; you’re so wet that it makes you uncomfortable. you lean forward on your knees, steadying yourself with your palms planted firmly on his thighs. 

you’re sucking his balls earnestly now , one then the other, then both at the same time, angling your head up and working your tongue up and down the wrinkled skin.

toji’s loving it, maybe more than the blowjob, and it makes you feel like a toy all over again, in an even more humiliating way because now you’re not even allowed to touch his cock, he’s just getting to use your mouth anywhere he wants. 

it’s so fucking hot that it makes you dizzy. you hollow your cheeks, giving his nutsack a good suck before gingerly lifting his balls. you sneak a glance up at toji, hoping to catch him by surprise when your tongue dips even lower, approaching some pretty controversial territory. 

it works. his breath catches in his throat and his knee kicks out instinctively.

he grabs your hair immediately, pulling you away from him. 

“fuck,” you look up at him smirking, lips smeared with saliva and snort. but you don’t even care how debauched you look right now, as long as you can keep the upper hand. “you’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t ya?”

he leans down to kiss you deeply, messily, inhaling loudly through his nose. toji finishes stepping out of his sweatpants and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing what you’d been imagining for so many years. 

you run your hands over his chest, his abs, down his hips, his v-line. he’s so fucking hot, got bulging muscles you didn’t even know existed in the human body, and scars you can’t even fathom the origin of. 

he stares at you, looking bored. “get up.”

you do, legs shaking and prickling with pins and needles. now you can fully feel the scope of your arousal, how your panties stick to your core uncomfortably, how the wet tops of your thighs rub together. 

toji sits down on the sofa and you waste no time getting on his lap, clawing at his chest and leaning in for another kiss. he’s unforgiving even like this, so much bigger than you, his hand on the back of your neck and his mouth on yours. 

“arms up,” and when you comply, he’s pulling your tank top off. “good girl.”

you shiver, instinctively wrapping an arm around yourself. toji tsks at that, easily taking both your wrists in one hand and pinning them behind your back. he grabs your tit with the other, popping as much of it as he can in his mouth. 

you groan, fighting against his grip to get your hands on his hair, his shoulders, anywhere. toji relentlessly sucks on your nipple, nibbling and circling it with his tongue.

when he pulls off, he lands a swift slap across your boob, ripping a groan from you. 

“such a good fuckin’ slut, look at that body.”

he slaps your ass, this time, tugging your shorts over your butt. you help him get it off of you and then, finally, you’re straddling toji’s cock, no layers in between you two, just your dripping core on him. 

you think, belatedly, condom, but then toji is pulling you in for another kiss and for all you know megumi could come home any minute and you wouldn’t want to waste time like that. or so you tell yourself. 

his hands guide your hips to grind over him, soft mewls coming out of you and being buried into the crook of his neck. 

“pretty little girl, gonna ride me? hmm? gonna ride this old man’s cock?” you whine, nodding.

you press your front against his so you can lift your ass up and guide the tip into your entrance. you don’t expect to be able to take it all, but at least like this you can control the pace and how much of it is going into you, the only thing keeping you from panicking at the sheer size of him. 

the head of toji’s cock doesn’t slip inside so much as it pops inside, the ridge locking just past your opening.

it’s too big, and even though you’re soaking wet, it’s still a stretch. you both groan in unison and you realize, this is it. this is your fantasy, you’re fucking toji fushiguro, megumi’s dad, your best friend’s dad. 

your legs tremble as you hold yourself up, too soon to sink down more on his cock. toji’s playing with your nipples but you have a sneaking suspicion his patience isn’t going to last much longer. 

you give it a valiant effort to take more in and it feels like being ripped in two. you clench your jaw, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple. 

“fuuuuck, so fuckin’ tight,” toji spreads your ass cheeks with both hands, rubbing the thin skin where you two are connected. he thrusts up, feeding your poor pussy more of his cock, and you let out a scream. “take it, c’mon.”

“unghh—can’t, toji, hang on—“

“‘course ya can,” he fucks up into you again and you sob, nails raking down his chest. he hisses and slaps your ass in punishment. you realize you might really cry.

“i can’t, it’s too big, too much—“

“shhh,” in an uncharacteristic display of affection, toji kisses the furrow between your brows, snaking a thumb between you two to rub your clit. 

you throw your head back, body torn between seeking more pleasure and running from the pain. you can hear how wet you are as toji fucks in and out of you, your plush walls hugging him so well, weeping around him. 

he speeds up and you bury your face in his chest, moaning wantonly into his skin. toji lets out staccato grunts, working his cock further into you with each thrust. 

“any scrubs your age givin’ it to you like this?” he breathes out, grabbing your ass hard and moving it up and down his length for you. you whine, drooling on him. “yeah, that’s right. fuck, take it, that’s a good girl.”

“ahh, toji—“

“that’s not my name, whore,” he fists your hair and drags your head back until your eyes meet. “try again.”

“fushiguro-san—“ that earns you a hard slap on your ass. you yelp — wrong answer. 

“toji-sama—“ another slap, and this time he grips the reddening flesh viciously. you whine, squirming in his grip. 

“little braindead cumslut,” he wipes a tear with his thumb. “who’s fucking this tight pussy right now? huh? tell me who's ruining this slutty cunt.”

“d—daddy?” 

toji smiles, humming, his grip on you softening as he leans in for a kiss. “that’s right, sweetheart. show daddy how much you want it.”

it’s amusing to toji, you know it. he just wants to humiliate you because he’s aware of how badly you’ve wanted this. but it does something to you, it’s serious to you, it’s so fucking depraved and sexy to you. 

he lifts you up with ease and lays you back down on the couch. you feel so empty suddenly that it makes you want to cry, like toji has already carved a home inside of you for his cock that no one else will ever be able to fill. 

he wastes no time getting on top of you, hooking a hand under your leg and lifting it up onto his shoulder. your eyes widen immediately, a protest dying in your tongue. this position… his cock… it’s, god, it’s gonna be—

toji plunges in in one violent, perfunctory thrust. you let out a scream, your heel kicking toji square in the back as your body rises up from the couch. he’s all the way inside now. 

you can feel him bruising your cervix, his balls, wet with a mixture of the two of you, slapping against your ass, his hip bones drilling into you. 

“you’re so deep,” you look at him with panic in your eyes, chest gone cold at the overwhelming pleasure. “you’re so deep.”

toji laughs, pulling out to spit on his cock. he grabs your ankle and sets it on his shoulder. “yeah, baby, daddy’s all the way inside now. feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“fuck. oh fuck,” you let out shaky breaths, allowing toji to lay more of his weight on top of you. your knee is by your head now and somehow in this position his cock seems to hit even deeper, to curve up exactly in the right spots that have you struggling to breathe. “you’re gonna break me.” 

“takin’ me so well. just a natural slut aren’t ya,” he’s fucking you so fast now, wet, slapping sounds resounding across the whole house. 

there’s a thick creamy ring at the base of his cock, frothy and bubbly with how much you’ve been gushing for him. toji presses a thumb against your clit and rubs tight little circles, making you squeeze against him like a vice. 

he grunts, speeding up his movements.

“so sensitive, this cute little pussy. you a virgin?” he slaps it a few times, your wetness sticking to his fingers with every pat. “gonna cum soon, whore?”

you whine, nodding. you wrap both arms around toji’s neck and pull him closer, open mouth awaiting expectantly.

toji grins, spitting onto your tongue before leaning in to suck it. 

“toj—daddy,” you moan against his mouth, “daddy, i’m close.”

you don’t recognize your own voice. it’s slutty, desperate, pitchy, juvenile. it's too far gone.

toji works your clit over and over again, fucking you harder than you’ve ever been fucked. he splays a hand over your stomach, kneading the place where his cock is nestled inside of you and hitting a spot that makes you lose control of your body and words. 

“ah, ah, ah, oh god toji fuck daddy make me cum, please please can i cum—“

“oh, fuck,” his thrusts start to become erratic and you know he’s close too. you clench around him, one leg wrapping around his hips to make sure he stays inside until you're done. “cum on daddy’s cock, come on. make a mess, little girl.”

you throw your head back, burying it into the pillows as your entire body thrashes with your orgasm. you clamp around him so hard that you can't even tell where he ends and you begin. 

toji takes no mercy on you, his messy cock plunging in and out of you fast. 

“gonna fill up this pretty pussy, yeah?” you shake your head desperately, one hand punching his chest. he can’t finish inside of you, right? but why do you want it so bad? “no no no, don’t fuss now baby. you want daddy’s cum inside you, don’t you? wanna give megumi a baby brother? fuck yeah i know you do fuckin' take it whore fuuuuck, fuck i'm coming—”

he thrusts once, twice, three more times, knocking all air out of your lungs and the most ridiculous moans out of your mouth before he’s spilling into you, locking your legs like a fucking pretzel and biting down your neck. 

you can feel it pulsing, spurting inside of you. you can feel both your heartbeats in your abused cunt, both of your juices combined and oozing out of you. 

once you catch your breath, toji pulls out of you languidly, with a yawn. you two made a fucking mess, a sticky puddle on the couch right below your ass. 

toji eyes it disinterestedly, much like how he’s eyeing you right now. your sweaty, messy, fucked out self, nearly melting on the fushiguro household’s sofa. 

“ah. are ya on the pill or what?” he asks, like he just now remembered. after a few seconds you nod, a little incredulous. “heh. good.”

you slowly sit up, reaching for your sweatshirt to at least cover yourself up. you sneak a hand down to your cunt, fingers sliding through the mess there to dip inside you. 

fuck, you’re gaping. toji well and truly ruined your pussy. it makes you panic a little bit, but it also makes pride swell within your chest, knowing you took it, all of it. 

toji finally addresses you. 

“i’m gonna go take a shower,” he looks behind his shoulder, sighing. he points at you. “we left the fuckin’ tv on. if this shit racks up my bills you’re gonna have to pay me back.”

you guffaw. “me? pay you how?”

he smirks. 

“got one more hole i haven’t wrecked yet, dont’cha?” he flicks your forehead. you just sit there, incredulous, trembling legs, halfway to horny again. from the bathroom, toji calls out, “let yourself out. oh, and leave the vodka.”

A/N: lmfao! i got nothin to say in my defense. reblogs r very much appreciated

[luxaofhesperides]

the beginning - danny

0.

The Lazarus Pit brings Danny back.

The child who went into them, however, is gone forever.

Danyal al Ghul is the soul who should reside in this body. Danyal has a life still to live and Danny died ages ago, old and surrounded by loved ones, ready to spend the rest of his forever in the Infinite Realms.

Something's gone terrible wrong, he thinks rather wryly, squinting through the cold green water that surrounds him. An ache echoes through his body and he brings a hand—small, a child's hand that shouldn't belong to him— to his stomach, where he can feel a large wound slowly pull itself together.

Did I get stabbed?

He means to continue the thought, but a sharp pain hits his head, making him curl up. He gasps and air bursts from his lungs, water rushing to fill in the empty space. Danny chokes, panicking, as memories slide into place, the lives of Danyal al Ghul and Danny Fenton fighting for dominance in his head. His lungs burn, throat working futilely to push water out, but there's nothing to be done.

Danny is a child again, and just like last time, he dies young.

1. So.

Assassins.

Danny honestly can't tell if this is a step up or a step down from mad scientist parents. On the one hand: he knows they loved him, as clumsy as it was, even though they loved their work more. On the other hand: assassin cult sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and while cool, is definitely not safe for kids.

And Danny, somehow, is a child again.

This really wasn't what he expected when he woke up on the sandy bottom of the pit. He's in ghost form, which is an unpleasant shock, but at least its familiar.

He is also, if his memory as Danyal serves him correctly, nine years old.

Kinda sucks that he died so young this time round. Didn't even make it to the double digits before he was taken out of the running.

He can't remember what it was like being so small in his last life. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a child and run them through with a sword. It's a cruel world he's woken up in. It's made worse by the fact that he's alone.

At least being down here without needing to breathe is giving him valuable time to think.

Danny has lived a full life already. He didn't really need or want another one, content to be a full ghost in the Infinite Realms. But going back isn't really an option, now that he's in a new body. The kid he could have been deserves to live fully, and the least Danny can do is live that life for them.

It'll be hard, but Danny's sure he can manage a decent life for himself.

Being presumed dead will make his escape from the assassins easier, though he'll miss getting the chance to meet his new mother; assassin as she is, Danyal knows her not by her blades but by her soft lullabies and jasmine-scented hair. The loss of her child must be hurting her deeply, but it's necessary. If Danny wants any semblance of a normal life, he has to leave her behind.

Besides, he's seen enough death. He doesn't want to ever be the cause of it.

So, he needs a plan for this new life.

Step one: get out of dodge.

The rest he'll figure out on the way.

2.

Turns out assassins weren't the most shocking thing in this new life.

No, that honor goes to superheroes.

Genuine, honest to God superheroes! With powers and everything!

To think that Danny once called himself a superhero. Ha! As if! He's nothing compared to the likes of Superman or the Flash or even Green Lantern. They're in another league. Literally. They're part of the Justice League, which has a whole slew of other heroes, and Danny is possibly their biggest fan.

Not like that's weird; most people in this world are huge fans of superheroes. Makes sense, since they're the ones who rely on their protection the most.

It does suck to know that his background belongs to that of a villain. Assassins aren't known for saving people, after all.

Part of him contemplates becoming a hero again, taking up the role of Phantom and joining the ranks of Superman. But he's had many years to come to terms with the loss of his teenage years and the bitterness that came with it. That experience, that life once lived, helps him decide each time that being a civilian is the gift this life owes him.

At thirteen, Danny lives in a foster home with six other kids. He's the oldest and has his hands full taking care of everyone else while their foster parents work three jobs between them to keep them all afloat.

When his younger siblings play superheroes, he gladly takes the role of the villain, swooping in with a blanket to kidnap away an innocent bystander that has to be rescued. He falls over dramatically at the end of each fight and praises his siblings' strength and teamwork, making them puff up with pride.

It's all fun and games so long as it only stays fun and games.

Superpowers are cool and all, but his came at the cost of his life, his health, his future. He knows, better than anyone, the price of being a hero. He knows that even Superman carries heavy losses on his shoulders, struggles under burdens no one can see.

He's lucky that the small town he ended up in—Luray, Virginia—has no heroes or villains. Too small a place to be on anyone's radar, apparently.

His classmates often complain about how they wish they could live in a big city where there's more to do, more to see, superheroes flying through the streets to protect them.

Danny is happy where he is. It's quiet, and small, and nothing like what he's used to, but it's safe.

That's all he really wants.

3.

Here's something that stays the same no matter what world he's in: Danny is a magnet for trouble.

If the trouble stopped at bullies, everything would have been fine. Danny could handle Dash, and he could handle Justin just as easily.

But the universe loves to escalate with Danny, specifically, which is why Danny had to reveal his powers when some villain-wannabe school shooter attacked his high school.

And to think he felt bad for Jackson when he didn't make it onto the track team.

Luray does not have a meta population. They're too small to have much of a population at all, and much of it is white which made him, half-Iranian, stand out even before he threw out a barrier of ice to protect his classmates a second before the gunfire began.

"Danny?!" his seatmate, Clarrissa, cries out in alarm.

"Everyone get out the window and run for it!" he orders, "I hold him back as much as I can!"

"You can't stay here!"

"Don't worry," Danny says, offering her a tight smile. "He couldn't kill me even if he tried. Now go!"

His classmates hadn't wasted any more time, sending him shocked looks as they escaped the classroom. A glimpse of his reflection in the window revealed glowing green eyes and blue mist wafting out of his mouth.

Looks like his time in Luray is up. He hopes his foster siblings won't be too mad at him for running away.

The gunfire stops, and Danny takes his chance to leap through his ice, intangible, and tackle Jackson, easily knocking the gun away from him.

"Monster!" Jackson spits at him, and Danny laughs.

"Bold of you to say that. I'm not to one trying to kill people."

He doesn't want to hear anything else that comes out of Jackson's mouth, so he knocks the guy out with a solid hit to a pressure point on his neck. Hopefully that'll keep him down long enough for the cops to get him.

Danny stands and means to leave, but something hits the back of his head hard and he's out before he realizes what's happened.

When he wakes up, he's strapped down to a table in what is undeniably a lab, and sighs.

At least he made it to sixteen before he went into another lab. Maybe in his next life he might even get all the way up to twenty before he's pulled back down here.

4. Though he has all his powers and a ghost form, that doesn't mean he is a ghost in this life.

No, he's fully a meta, which means meta-suppressing cuffs work on him.

It's not exactly a discovery he was hoping to have while locked up in a lab, but it's what he's got, so he has to roll with it. The cuffs are heavy on his wrists and around his throat, keeping him from escaping as a group of people in masks and lab coats bustle around, ignoring him.

His head is still foggy, though likely more from the drugs than the hit he took to his head.

He doesn't bothering talking to any of them; they don't see him as human, and Danny's dealt with enough of that in his past life.

Mad scientists love to talk though, so he still hears the gist of their plans: recreating the meta gene for normal people, making a profit from selling powers, getting rich and famous from their accomplishments. They had been using Jackson to get corpses for human testing, but they got Danny instead — someone they can harvest bio material for, a much better find than a couple dead kids.

If he had the energy to rage, Danny would have killed everyone in the room already. They planned to kill his classmates just for test subjects.

He doesn't want to be an assassin, but he'd gladly lean into those old lessons to make sure they never hurt anyone again.

But the cuffs and drugs do a good job of keeping him docile, barely able to think, as they transport him around to different locations and cut him open.

He's not sure how long it's been when they ease up on the drugs a bit. It still takes time for his body to work through everything, and he comes too with a throat that's dry and a stomach that hasn't had anything in it for quite some time.

The first thing Danny does when they start asking him questions is throw up on them.

If they wanted cooperation, they should have treated him better. This is fully on them.

It makes for a convincing argument for food and water and a bathroom break, at least, so he gets what he demands and takes care of his human body under the cold gazes of three scientists.

"You guys suck," he says conversationally. "Keeping test subjects alive is like basic knowledge. No wonder y'all suck at your jobs."

"Your comments aren't needed," one of the scientists says primly. "Get up. We need to study how using your powers affects your body."

They hook a bunch of different things onto him, then lock him in a glass cage and use the cuff around his throat to send jolts of electricity through him when he doesn't do anything. He throws a chunk of ice at them, watching as it breaks apart into small pieces when it hits the glass. The scientists scribble in their notepads, and when they look at him again, he flips them off.

He gets shocked again, but it's worth it.

The process repeats for another few hours, then he's pulled out of the cage, gets an IV stuck in his arm, and drops off into drugged oblivion before he has time to start throwing hands.

5.

It must have been months. Danny's not sure; it's hard to keep track of time when locked in isolation.

He knows he's fed at least once a day. He's been getting a tray of bland food at random times, but he's counted over 50 trays sliding through the little slot on the bottom of his cell door.

Turns out insulting scientists and their procedures is a bad idea, especially when he has the language to really bruise their egos.

So.

Isolation sucks.

But at least they don't drug him anymore!

The cuffs do their job of keeping him in place, and if he didn't have memories of another life to keep him company, he definitely would have lost his mind long ago.

There's other people in here, other metas. He's heard them screaming and begging for mercy. He's heard them go chillingly quiet. He wonders why there are so many superheroes in this world when not a single one has come to save them.

Surely at least one would notice metas disappearing and would investigate?

But no.

No one ever comes to save them.

So Danny needs to figure out a way past the cuffs, and then he can be Phantom again long enough to free the other metas and make every scientist involve pay for their crimes.

He just needs to wait.

He just needs—

6.

When Danny wakes up, the alarms are ringing. It makes his head pound, throbbing with each piercing sound.

He stumbles up, using the wall to keep his balance, and freezes when he sees that the door to his cell is open.

…Huh.

The hallway is bathed in red light when he steps out. No one's around. He wanders around the facility, searching for answers and only finds more questions.

There are other cells, also empty. Certain rooms have blood splattered across the walls and the floor, but no bodies. Labs are destroyed, broken glass on the floor. But every room is empty.

He wanders until he finds what must be a security room. There's a strange device dangling off a keychain on a rack, and Danny eyes it curiously. He runs his fingers around the cuff on his throat, feels the little depression where the collar comes together, and takes the rounded device. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

But if it does work…

The cuff pops open easily, as if it hasn't been his greatest foe these past few months.

All at once, his strength returns to him. He has forgotten what it was like to breathe easily, to feel his powers come to his call so easily, to be reassured that he can take care of himself.

It's almost like coming back to life.

He transforms, settling back into his ghost form with relief, and flies through the facility in search of any other metas that may need help. He finds no one, but he does catch a glimpse of the outside.

The sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. Part of the facility has been blown apart; rubble surrounds the place and the surrounding forest has been flattened. It looks as though a fight has moved through the area.

Maybe a superhero did come to save them? Rude of them to leave only Danny, though.

He continues his search, poking his head into different rooms and hallways. He finds a staircase going down and follows it into the basement. More labs greet him, and the glow of computers and strange vials of liquid leave him unsettled.

There's a green glow coming around the corner than reminds him of the Lazarus Pit he flew out of, once upon a time many years ago, and that's what draws him forward.

Tucked away in that familiar glow is a small body, floating in a tube of liquid. There's an oxygen mask attached to her face, but that doesn't stop Danny from recognizing her.

"Ellie?"

7.

Just like in one life, Danny is cloned. The difference is that this time, there's no reason for it, no insane godfather trying to recreate a version of him that will choose him.

No, this time it's from a group of scientists who should have known better, who decided to mess around with his genes, and brought his once little sister now daughter into such a cruel, dangerous world.

Danny barely remembers breaking the glass to get her out of there. He doesn't know where he found the coat to bundle her up in, flying out of the facility as fast as he could. He feels sick, knowing it's his fault that she's here now, forced into a painful, terrifying existence because he wasn't strong enough to save himself.

He's a runaway meta victim of mad science. He can't take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he whispers to her, pressing a kiss against her head. "I'm so sorry."

She small in his arms. She barely weighs anything.

Danny blinks back tears and tries to find some place he can stop and rest, somewhere safe he can gather his thoughts and figure out his next steps.

This isn't like when he first woke up in this world, with both sets of memories.

This is Ellie.

She deserves more than just a wish and a half-baked plan for a better life.

She deserves a family that wants her, that can care for her, that can protect her. She deserves to grow up normally and not worry about destabalizing or being a replacement for him or being hunted down.

She deserves one life to be a kid and grow up safe and be whoever she wants to be.

Danny will never be able to give her that.

But maybe he can give her to someone who can.

8.

Danyal grew up with an assassin mother and a cruel grandfather who expected far too much from a child. He was taught to kill and be more weapon than child. He was taught the world was something for him to take, to protect, to water with blood.

Danyal was meant to be the next Demon Head, and the next Bat.

Danny knows he can't go to his mother. If they're both lucky, he will never have to see her again. Knowing his luck, he's already planning explanations for why he never went back to her.

Danny's father, on the other hand…

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. The notorious Bat is Batman, Gotham's vigilante and one of the founders of the Justice League. While a child would have been left confused by the many comments his mother made about his father, it was simple enough for Danny to line them up with what he learned about the heroes of this world and realize, oh, that's my dad.

It takes a few weeks of research, using public libraries with Ellie tucked securely in a wrap to his chest, but he's able to learn more about Batman.

The most important thing being that he has kids.

Of course, none of this is officially acknowledged, but everyone knows that the Robins are his kids. Current Robin, especially, likes to remind people that he's 'the son of Batman'.

Okay. Cool.

Danny has siblings.

Awesome.

He's… not looking forward to those conversations.

At least it means more people to look after Ellie. Assuming they take her in, which Danny's really hoping for.

But it's the best he can do, so Danny sets course for Gotham and hopes that just this once, everything will work out.

9.

Meeting the Bats of Gotham is a lot harder than he expected.

A week in the city and he's barely caught more than a glimpse of them. He can't dedicate a lot of time to tracking them down either, needing to break into grocery stores to get food for him and Ellie.

She's so quiet as a baby, and it terrifies him. She's only cried twice the entire time he's had her, and Danny spends every day begging her to hold on.

Time during the day is spent catching naps and researching common vigilante spotting areas in Gotham. He's got a map of Gotham taken from a library and has been steadily marking it up, putting stars in the best places to find a Bat. There are places all over the city, and Danny has no idea how to know which ones are the best.

The only thing he can do is wait at a different rooftop each night, clinging to Ellie, wondering if this is the last night he has with her.

On the ninth night, someone finally arrives.

"Step away from the edge," a voice demands.

Danny turns to see Robin approaching, hands held out as if to catch him. He's bigger than Danny was expecting. Which makes sense; most of the stories Danny got online are from when Robin was a kid, and it's been a few years since then. He must be a teenager now. Older, but still young.

"Robin," he manages to say, his throat tightening. It feels almost like there's a noose around it. It feels like that meta-suppressing cuff has clicked back into place, leaving him helpless.

"Step away from the edge," Robin repeats. "There is no need for this to be your last resort."

"But it is," Danny whispers.

Robin darts forward and wraps a hand around Danny's wrist, yanking him towards the center of the roof. "Why on Earth would you come up here? Surely you must have known that someone would stop you."

"Batman," he gets out. "I need to speak to Batman."

"What for?"

"I'm… I was told, once, that I'm his son."

10. Robin stares at him for a long moment.

Then he takes off his mask.

Danny knows those eyes: he sees them every time he looks in a mirror.

"Danyal," Robin breathes. "You died before I was born."

"I did. Are you…?"

"Mother told me about you."

So he has a little brother. If only he hadn't left first chance he got, he could have known his little brother, gotten away from that place before it hurt him too. Danny has made many mistakes since he arrived in this world. Missing a little brother is perhaps the worst of them.

"Mother…" Danny repeats. "She put me in the Lazarus Pit. I remember that. She didn't want me to die."

"I was born to replace you."

Just like Ellie.

So many mistakes repeating. He's never felt like more of a failure.

"Batman. Our father. He treats you well? You are safe with him?"

Robins brows furrow, but he nods, which is enough for Danny. "Yes. Of course. Isn't that why you're here now?"

"I'm not asking for me." Danny carefully, gently, unwraps Ellie. "I'm asking for her. Please, take care of her. She deserves more than I can give her. Ellie… she'd be your niece."

Robin's eyes are wide. He's frozen until Danny pushes Ellie against his chest, forcing him to lift his arms to hold her.

"Wait, what about—?"

When Robin looks up, Danny's already gone.

It's for the best.

(masterpost for all parts)

[stervrucht]

Eddie likes messing with his friends.

Call it a love language if you will.

Messing with Steve is a special form of entertainment, but only because Eddie still hasn’t figured him out. With most people, he knows just how to push their buttons. 

Steve Harrington is different.

He’s a little too perfect maybe, with his good looks and his rich parents. And it’s totally unfair that Steve is actually a nice guy and a fucking badass to boot.

If there is a god, he sure wasn’t very fair with his Ability Scores on this one.

So yeah, Eddie doesn’t have a lot to work with and Steve is apparently hard to phase. Eddie teases him; is a little mean about it just to get a rise out of him. And really, it’s a form of endearment. He does it to everyone he likes well enough.

Only Steve doesn’t really respond all that much. The best Eddie can do so far is a little scoff, and he figures it’s probably Dustin’s fault—that kid has a serious mean streak. By now, Steve’s tongue is sharp like a sword on a wetstone. He can bounce insults back with the same energy with which they are received, and although Eddie is endlessly entertained by it, it doesn’t yield the desired results.

He wants Steve riled up. 

It isn’t until Eddie says something nice—something he actually means—that Steve is left speechless and flustered. 

He likes that much more than a snarky back-and-forth. 

And it clicks something in his brain—unleashes something much worse than Steve has seen of him before. 

Eddie can’t stop praising Steve. 

“You’re doing so well.”

“You’re so good for me.”

And Steve flushes that pretty pink color every time.

Yes, Eddie likes it much better this way. 

That Steve Harrington can’t take some praise without popping a boner.

[skyahri]

How They Found Out |Naruto Boys X Reader| HC

Part Two Masterlist Ko-fi

Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki, Shikamaru Nara, Kakashi Hatake

Summary: How your relationship ended up being revealed.

Warnings: Naruto's is short af because he's an open book. Deal with it. NSFW themes. Mentions of sex and being caught.

- - - - -

Sasuke Uchiha

You'd been together for about a year at this point. In the beginning, you'd agreed to keep it hush-hush until you'd figured things out.

Before you knew it, it'd been more than six months since your first date, and it was still secret. You enjoyed the privacy of it, but didn't enjoy hiding things from your friends.

So you decided to stop actively keeping it a secret and instead allow things to come out naturally.

But that was six months ago and still no one knew.

Sasuke hated PDA and no one had asked either of you about relationship stuff, so it was still quiet.

That is until today.

You two were victims of Narutos' lack of boundaries and awareness.

It was late at night, about 11pm, you were in Sasuke's apartment.

He was drilling into you, his hands holding down your legs and mouth connected to your neck.

You were too busy enjoying the all encompassing feeling of him fucking you, and he was too busy ravaging you to hear Naruto enter the front door.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swings open. Narutos face very quickly goes from his usual happy-go-lucky to a horrified, dramatic look.

Sasuke is quick to cover you with the sheets before he yells at Naruto to get the Hell out.

Naruto is already way ahead of him, bolting straight out the front door and to God knows where.

After that, it wasn't long before the whole village knew. Honestly, once Gai found out, there was no one who didn't know.

Naruto Uzumaki

Find out? Ha! There is no finding out because he immediately told anyone and everyone the second you agreed to a date.

If he did somehow manage to keep it quiet, it really wouldn't be long until it got out.

Hes just so... excited to be with you.

He likes showing you off like a prize. He likes going on dates and holding your hand and loudly proclaiming that you're his.

You don't mind, of course.

Shikamaru Nara

You two lay around together most days. A while back, you shared a kiss, and it very VERY slowly escalated from there.

It was almost six months before you actually had sex.

Mostly because he'd somehow rationalized kissing was "just something you guys did" and didn't require any extra thought.

The sex was amazing. Slow and passionate, just like you'd expect from the lazy Nara.

And so things continued on like that. A relationship had formed, but it was never something either of you talked about.

You liked his parents and they liked you. You'd help his mom with dinner some nights and played Shogi with Shikaku. They didn't question your relationship either.

Things stayed on the down low for almost eighteen months before someone finally brought up something regarding his romantic life.

"So, Shikamaru, who was your first kiss?" Choji asked one night in the bath house.

The question caught him off guard since he wasn't usually included in these types of conversations. (They mostly assumed he wasn't interested in women, or something like that.)

"Hm? Oh, Y/N."

Cue the silence. Then total chaos.

"What?? When was this?" Kiba asked.

"I don't know... sometime around the solstice last year."

That sparked a lot of questions from his friends, only some of which he'd answered.

The guys relayed all the information to the girls the next day, where they then went and hounded you for answers.

Despite all of your friends knowing about your relationship, nothing changed between you and Shikamaru.

You just stayed... whatever it is you were.

Kakashi Hatake

Gai, Kurenai, and Iruka all had their suspicions about you two but had nothing to back it up. It's been years at this point, yet they still come up empty-handed.

That is, until Kakashi’s students decided they were interested in his love life, and began to poke around.

It's after the war; Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke are fully grown adults, but something is just so tempting about reverting to their youthful days of trying to spy on their sensei.

Kakashi is all for it, partially because he's glad his students are getting along again, and partially because he's grown tired of keeping secrets.

This is something he discusses with you, and as he predicted, you're completely on board.

You gradually make yourself seen with Kakashi over the next week- leaving the Hokage tower with him, getting dinner with him, and even allowing him to walk you to his apartment.

The kids watch all of this happen, but there's no evidence that actually proves anything, just like Gai sensei had told them in the beginning.

So they continue to stalk you two around the village. They're better at it than when they were little, but it's still pretty easy to spot them.

At the end of the week, when you're sure all three of them are watching, Kakashi kisses you in front of your front door.

You watch as they all zip away, surely off to meet up or possibly report back to your friends.

You and Kakashi can only laugh.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I really want to see what happens next in cave boy. How fast do they build a ship to take Danny home, and how embarrassed is Connie about his mistake

"Take care of yourself," Bruce says, smiling down at him. Danny offers back a grin, making sure to include all of the other Waynes. They surround the ship that has pre-program coordination to his home dimension.

All he would need to do was turn it on and fly it through the portal the Justice League had brought to the Batcave for him. Apparently, it was built a few missions ago for other dimension traveling allies.

The magic users have formed some kind of cult in Bruce's front yard but that wasn't Danny's problem. He got tired to explaining that he was plain old Danny Fenton, a halfa that got lost.

Apparently, a few demi-gods, Wonder Something and Captain Something (Danny stayed true to what he told the Bats. He doesn't want to be involved in their heroes' business. He wasn't paying attention when they introduced themselves) had gone around telling people that he was a god and to show him proper resepct. That just drove even more colorful charaters to camp out in Bruce's yard.

It looked like a music festival out there—the ones his parents claim they couldn't remember despite spending an entire weekend at. Sometimes, Danny is violently reminded that his parents were a lot more party animals than Dan, Jazz, Dani, or he turned out to be.

Thankfully, not everyone was acting weird around him; many heroes coming and going to help set up the final steps. Tim spearheaded the effort, and after building the ship for him, everything was finally ready.

Danny was finally going home.

All his things were packed and on board, waiting for Danny to take off. He was surprised the Waynes were willing to let him take everything they had bought or sent to him by fans. It wasn't worth millions, but it was a generous amount.

He will miss them after all the lies and theft that he done, Danny had spent a long time with the Waynes. He still wasn't entirely sure he and Bruce were the same person just a counter part of one another but they were so sure he was willing to let them think that.

"Thank you for everything," Danny tells the group, allowing Dick and Steph to step in for a hug.

"Thank you for allowing us to see Bruce as a child," Cass counters patting Danny's head around Dick's body. "You were entertaining."

Tim clears his throat, stepping forward with a binder. Dick and Steph detach themselves from Danny but not before giving him michvious smiles that make him slightly worried. If they were ghosts, Danny would think that they were planning on attacking him in the middle of class on purpose.

"I'm sorry about the way I treated you, Brucie." Tim starts twisting the binder a little before holding it out. "I figured you should have this."

"What is it?"

"The contingency plans I wrote about you. In case I had to neutralize you. All ninety-seven of them," Tim says, if that's even remotely normal. Danny is even more unsettled at Jason's smile of approval or Babarba's little coo as if she were watching toddlers play make-believe.

Is showing each other contingency plans a form of love for these people? Ancients Danny enjoyed his time with them but can't wait to get home.

"Eh, thank you." Danny manages to say, curling the binder to his chest. Tim's face explodes into a beam of pure unadulterated joy.

"You're welcome! If you ever come back, we can compare notes. I honestly think plan number fifty-two will give you a run for your money."

".....I'm a civilian, remember? Punching me would be enough to beat me."

Tim waves his hand in dismisal, before leaning in for own farewell hug as Damian scoffs. "We both know that's a lie, even without your god-hood."

"Father, did he fight off suitors since he was a child," Damian raises his chin, standing up straighter in pride. He's not quite puffing out his chest, but it's a darn close thing. He doesn't seem to mind when Danny wraps one arm aorund his shoulder is a makeshift hug. "You like will have the same suitors."

"Okay."

"Goodbye, Young Master Danny," Alfred says next, straightening his hair and shirt with a bittersweet gleam in his eye. "I will forever cherish your time spent with us."

"Bye Alfred."

Jason clapped a hand on Danny's shoulder, giving it a rough push. "Don't forget about us brat. We may not be able to follow you to your dimension, but once our worlds' divide stabilizes, you better come over for dinner."

The halfa shurgs not committing to anything. The way the Flash explained their worlds was that due to how similar their two dimesions were, having someone from either place visting for two long was cutting away at the diviation that seperated them.

If that fell, the two worlds would collide and rip each other's realities apart.

They would need to allow it to heal before any visitation could be done. Sadly, the divide would have to be healed naturally. It could be days, or it could be decades.

This may be the last time Danny would see them for a long time. Stupidly, tears start to well up in his eyes, at the thought. Duke punches his shoulder gentely, not calling him out on them when the other also has some tears.

In fact, the only dry eye in the cave right now belongs to Alfred, Bruce, and Cass. What a strange little family this was.

Danny bites his lip while gesturing to the ship that hums with power. "I better get going."

"Yes," Bruce says. "You have family waiting for you. Remember to cherish them"

Danny freezes from where he climbs into the ship hatchet door. He looks over his shoulder at the gathered group and suddenly realizes something. He can see the similarities between Bruce and Dan even if he has doubts. "I will. And maybe in a few years, I'll met the versions of you and have a even bigger family. Cherish your children Bruce."

The man offers him the softest smile he has seen grace Bruce's face. "I already do."

His children swing wild, crazed eyes at him. Danny can practically see the fines in the white of their eyes, and Dick climbs over a table so he can lean into Bruce's personal space. Batman leans away from his eldest son, looking honestly stricken.

Danny laughs, closing the door. He quickly settles into the lush seats, feeling the material of the cushion creak under his weight. The familiar hum of advance technology welcomes him with open arms as he wraps his hands on the steering wheel.

For a still moment, Danny wonders what he will do if this false, and he stuck here forever. A familair ache grows in the center of his chest at the thought of never seeing his family- his real one- again but with one deep breath he forces himself to press the on switch.

The portal blares to life in front of him- white and bright, unlike the Fenton Portal- and with a loud woosh, it rips open. He can see the front of his house, and it's like a physcial blow of happniess.

He slams his foot on the gas, flying out of the cave with a wave of laughter, feeling light for the first time in over a year. The bight clear sky of Amity Park, rains sunshine down on him as he crashes against a few parked cars.

The Wayne Tech holds true not allowing him to get any damage as it stumbles to a stop in a ironic perfect parallel parking spot right in front of his house. Danny is laughing so hard, so utterly free, that he feels mad with it, as stares out the window of his home.

He is home.

The last thing he hears of the Waynes is Alfred's calm voice in the communicator as it loses connection. The portal seals shut, self-mending the air as if though it was never there.

"Thank you, Master Danny, for allowing this old man to relive a memory."

The front door of Fenton Works is thrown open, a teenager with long red hair stumbles out of it, staring at the ship. She makes eye contact with the driver and then a scream of glee fills the air.

"Danny!" She runs as fast as her legs can carry her down the driveway, and Danny quickly fumbles out of his seat, desperate to get outside. They met halfway, arms encasing each other in desperate hugs as the to sob.

"Danny! Danny! You're back" Jazz babbles through her tears. Behind her Jack and Maddie are running toward them yelling and crying, and so utterly despreate to hold their boy.

The teenagers fall to their knees from the impact of their parents, and first the frist time in over a year, Danny can fianlly breath easily.

"I'm home," He whispers, pressing himself against his family.

[dclovesdanny]

Something I will never get enough of is Danny killing the Joker. However, something I want to see more of, is Danny killing the Joker for Ellie.

Like, Jason and Danny are neighbors and they’ve been friends for a little while. Jason knows Danny has the 20 something year old mechanic with a six-year-old daughter who is an absolute gremlin. He really likes them both, and he might have a little crush on his neighbor.

Then when they are out at the park or something, the Joker attacks. The joker decides to grab a hostage and who does he grab, but this six year old girl who only seems to have one person who knows her, a scrawny 20 something person. She has dark hair and blue eyes and only person who seems to care about her is her older brother/possible father? Perfect bait for Batman.

He wasn’t counting on Danny being able to fight god for his family. He didn’t realize that Danny will do anything to protect his family, that, in his literal core, he is sworn to protect his people, no matter the cost. the joker did not realize that Danny loves Ellie enough to not only die (again) for her, but to kill for her.

The Joker doesn’t die to Batman, or in some big battle. The Joker dies to a man no one knew because the Joker kidnapped his daughter. The joker dies, because he forgot that not everyone has the same hangups about killing that Batman does. The Joker dies because he pushed a parent too far.

Jason is there during all of this. I think he’s either there as red hood, watching through the cameras, or there is Jason. All three of these have many different pros for various forms of angst.

If Jason is there as red hood, he’s probably with some of the batfamily, and they are holding him back from killing the Joker. They’re trying to figure out how to make it so that the joker won’t kill this little girl, and Jason is going feral because that is his kid. That is the little gremlin who lives next-door, who knocks on his door and treats him like a jungle gym. That’s his kid. When he sees Danny jump at the Joker, he’s going to have a straight up panic attack and he’s gonna get the guns ready, but he doesn’t need to.

If he’s there as Jason, I think the joker would also take him hostage. Jason Wayne, the brat who would get him a lot of money. Especially if the Joker knows that this was the second Robin, because this just means he can get two killed in one swoop. And Jason is trying to protect Ellie with everything in him, cursing himself for not bringing a gun with him and praying that this time Bruce isn’t too late. And he can see the pain in Danny’s eyes and he is so scared to lose this family he has. He praised to a God he doesn’t believe in this time, history won’t repeat itself.

I feel like it would be most painful, if he’s watching through cameras. He’s probably injured or in the middle of doing something for his civilian life . Maybe he’s even out of town, but turned the camera on to look out for the joker, and had a heart attack when he saw the little girl next-door being held by the Joker. This man is trying so hard to get there, breaking every traffic law, praying that he won’t be too late that this won’t be the same as his death. His trauma is excruciating, because this feels like when he was waiting for Bruce and Bruce not getting there until it was too late.

No matter which of these scenarios, he needs to see Danny snap and kill the joker. Maybe, in the camera scenario, it’s just this he arrives that he sees it. Either way, he needs to see the moment, the Joker dies at the head of a single father, and the parallel of Bruce and him and Danny and Ellie need to be very apparent. Because this time the dad wasn’t afraid to kill.

This is the moment I feel, Jason would fully acknowledge that he would do anything for these people. That these two neighbors of his have become his family. The moment he sees the two of them holding each other, and the jokers body at their feet, I guarantee you this man is fighting tooth and nail not to go over his red hood exposed them. if he’s Jason, he can run into hug them no problem, but if he’s red hood, he’s not going to be able to do that.

This man will fight with Batman if he even that should get in trouble for killing the Joker. He will threaten to never ever speak to Bruce ever again, will be ready to bribe the police into letting Danny go, we will race every camera footage out there of the event, will do anything for this family.

Later that day, he won’t have nightmares of the Joker for the first time in a while. He will be able to look at his family and rest easy, knowing that there’s no way that Joker can take them from him.

[bountycancelled]

(un)secret admirer

luke castellan x child of aphrodite!reader

tip me on kofi, if you feel so inclined

requested: nope, I'm just currently obsessing over pjo (aren't we all?) and Charlie bushnell is my pookie so luke is also my pookie (what about all the people he murdered��� what murdaaaa?!)

warnings: none I believe!

content: probably ooc luke becusse I haven't read the books, I don't know if demigods even nap, I don't remember the movies and he's barely in the show lol, some cuddling, lowercase intended because fuck grammar, also I know demi gods are dyslexic i just dont gaf because i thought this concept was cute, that's all!

a/n: SEND ME PJO REQS! please. also this is short and I'm sorry, I've been having horrid writers block.

"I don't get what the big deal is." Lukes voice could be heard from where he sat on your bed, as you gazed at the piece of paper in your hand, pacing back and forth in your room as you analysed its every minute detail to the best of your abilities. "you get letters from the other campers all the time."

"I already told you Luke. this handwriting isn't the same as any other letter I've gotten, so that means it's from someone who's never sent me a note before, and I need to know who it is."

you had recieved a myriad of letters ranging from 'I think you're pretty' to 'I would sacrifice my right arm just to get a hug from you' during your time here at camp. beyond being drop dead gorgeous, you were kind, always wearing a charming smile on your face, and having the ability to comfort people with your presence alone.

that (coupled with the facts that most kids here had some kind of parental baggage and your kindness definitely filled some kind of void) meant that you recieved many a words from not so secret admirers. you were sure that you knew the identities of the people who had given you sealed envelopes and tightly folded papers, but you were currently stumped.

you were startled out of your staring contest with the scribbled ink by the feeling of Lukes arms around your shoulders as he spoke. "I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually, now can you please come back to bed? you know that I can't nap if you're not with me."

you sighed, letting him lead you back to your bed so that he could rest before you two inevitable of the two of you needing to help around the camp occured. you stared up at the ceiling as he slowly started to dose off beside you, before you gasped and shot up, effectively spooking him out of a peaceful moment.

"it's Percy!" you shushed Luke before he had the chance to complain about your sudden exclamation or the fact that you weren't letting him get a wink of midday sleep. "I mean, he's just met me, and one of my friends probably told him some stuff about me–"

"it's not Percy." Luke deadpanned, pushing you down by the shoulder from the upright postpone you were sat in to make you lay back down, and wrapping his arm around your waist. you were shocked into silence, because although Luke was an affectionate friend, he had never cuddled you while he was still awake. he would always wake up and discovering that he had wrapped around you in his sleeping state, apologising sheepishly while retracting his limbs.

after a few moments of stunned silence, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at his statement. "and how do you know it's not him, huh?" he simply blew air from his nose, tightening his grip around your waist.

"because it was me, sweetheart."

now that shut you up fairly quickly, as you bit your lip to try to hinder the giddy smile that wanted to form on your features. you opened your mouth to speak again, only to be interrupted by Luke placing a small kiss on the back of your neck.

"we'll talk when we wake up, alright?" but you weren't having any of that. "okay... but, before you go to bed. how long have you liked me? is this actually the first letter you've sent? why wouldn't you just tell me, you idiot. obviously I like you too. I know you said some stuff that you like about me in the letter, but I want you to tell me about everything you like about me, like every feature, every trait-"

Luke chuckled, sporting a big grin as you spoke. he would tell you all of that and more, he would do anything you asked of him, just as long as he got to hold you in his arms just like this.

[bornwholocker]

Reading flatland and obviously Bill’s home dimension and flatland aren’t exactly the same, but like. Since we don’t know which parts are different I’m just thinking. This is really unorganized and all over the place and probably doesn’t make any sense but

In flatland, it takes a LOT of planning for an equilateral triangle to be born. I’m talking like generations of interbreeding and methods for the fathering isosceles to get as close to equilateral as possible. It’s a huge deal. When an equilateral is created, it’s celebrated by pretty much everyone (for a miriad of different reasons but I won’t get into that). And being “irregular” in any respect is one of the worst things you can be. If you don’t “fix” your irregularity enough, you’re executed.

So imagine Bill’s family working their triangular asses off to have an equilateral kid, to give him a better life, and when they finally do it, he’s got that eye. From what we’ve seen of his parents, they seem to have taken care of him as best they could, but again, it’s been a whole ordeal just to have him, involving the whole community and family, and he came out wrong.

I imagine that’s probably why his parents took him to see the doctor and drink the “juice” that messed with his vision. They thought they were doing what was best for him. They didn’t blame him for his eye, didn’t hate him for it, but they felt the need to fix him, either to please their families or even just bring him to their own standards. The idea of irregularity being wrong is seen as natural and obvious, so they wouldn’t find an issue with trying to change him.

Another thing about flatland is that the mention of any third dimension or any idea close to that is pretty much criminal. (Spoilers i guess) The narrator of the story, a square who saw the third dimension for himself, is eventually locked away for talking about it.

So Bill was supposed to be a sort of miracle baby, I guess is the best way to put it. And when he came out just slightly but irreparably wrong, it was devastating. And then he starts spouting about 3D and the stars and he just wants people to understand, to see that it’s not dangerous, that it’s beautiful. But his parents don’t want him to get imprisoned or worse, so they try to keep him quiet. They give him his juice and his silly straws and wave away any ideas about the third dimension.

Bill was born a disappointment, one of the lowest life forms imaginable, and the only way he was gonna get anywhere in life was by losing his stars forever. He was told that the thing right in front of him wasn’t real, that he should stop talking about it, that he could get in trouble. So he had to show everyone that he was right. He would be a hero! He would be the kid who finally discovered where the light came from, something no scientist had ever gotten close to figuring out!

But in the end his parents were right. It was too dangerous. God bill tragic backstory is so ougrhhhhj grabs alex hirsch by the shoulders and shakes him

[kenacoki]

Rain Check

//Pairing// Eddie Diaz x Reader

//Summary// The five times Eddie Diaz tries to ask you out.

//Word Count// 6.97k

//Warnings// none!

//Request// requesting a eddie x reader , 5 times eddie has asked you out and you say no and the one time you say yes. (or something like that idk i’ve seen fics like that and love the idea) maybe reader is a teacher at Christopher’s school ??

//Dividers// sister-lucifer

I.

“I wanna thank everyone for coming today!”

Your (e/c) colored eyes nervously dance around the small, cramped classroom. There are about twenty or so parents currently occupying the desks of your fifth-grade students. As your gentle voice pierces the air, the room falls silent, and all eyes hall on your anxious form.

Oh dear god…please don’t vomit.

You feel your nerves skyrocket as you rub your sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants. You take a shaky breath and swallow, trying to focus on the task at hand.

"As the new teacher for the fifth-grade class, I wanted to meet with you and discuss your children's progress and what I think is next to come in the school year for them." You glance around the classroom, trying to make eye contact with everyone at least once.

For the most part, the adults in the room remain quiet. Most of them are at least moderately invested in what you are saying. You gesture towards a bulletin board at the back of the room as your eyes fall on a handsome figure.

The man's honey-colored irises are trained on you, his facial expression completely neutral. He's one of the few parents who isn't sitting down, instead leaning against a wall with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His biceps are on full display in the snug-fitting t-shirt he's wearing. His short, dark brown hair is perfectly tousled. As you meet his gaze he gives you a subtle, almost unidentifiable once-over.

Good God, he's attractive.

You try to ignore the small burst of butterflies that explode in your stomach, quickly looking away to continue your pre-rehearsed speech.

"As I'm sure you're all aware, this is the last year that your children will be with me before they move on to middle school." You gesture towards some of the younger children, watching as they all look at you with wide-eyed interest.

"They are all incredibly bright, smart, and sweet kids," you continue, a small smile on your face as you speak. "I'm so excited to see what the future holds for them."

You can’t help but jump as the bell suddenly rings, signaling the end of the parent-teacher conference.

"That's all the time we have today," you say, taking a deep breath as you watch the parents stand up and begin to leave. "If you haven't done so already, I've left some signup sheets for class volunteers on the table by the door. Please feel free to sign up to help at your convenience."

You watch as the parents start to leave, the students trailing behind them with excited grins on their faces. A few remain behind, talking amongst themselves as they gather their things.

The handsome man you took notice of earlier pushes himself off of the wall and begins to make his way towards you.

You internally curse yourself as you feel a wave of nervousness wash over you.

Okay, dumbass. Get yourself together.

You take a small step away from your desk, straightening your spine and trying to appear as composed as possible as he stops in front of you.

“I’m uh, Edmundo Diaz. Eddie,” he says, a rough edge in his voice that you find completely entrancing.

God, even his name is attractive.

You fight to keep a neutral expression as he holds his hand out; you try to discreetly wipe your clammy palms on your pants before you take it. His grip is strong, and you nearly gasp at the feeling of his rough calloused fingers against your skin.

“It's nice to meet you, Mr. Diaz-” you begin, but he quickly interrupts you.

“Eddie.”

There's a firmness in his tone that sends chills down your spine, and you pause for a moment before you continue.

“It's nice to meet you, Eddie. You’re uh, you’re Christopher’s father, right?”

Eddie nods, pulling his hand from yours as he stuffs them in the pockets of his tight jeans. “That’s right. How’s he doing?”

You swallow, trying to keep yourself focused as you speak. “Christopher is such a wonderful kid. He’s incredibly smart and so sweet. Honestly…” You lower your voice, leaning closer to him. “ I’ve never met a fifth grader—or any kid for that matter—who’s as kind and polite as he is.”

Eddie’s smirk only grows, the corner of his mouth curled up into an almost cocky smile. “Chris is an amazing kid,” he says, his eyes raking over your form. “He’s better than I ever was at his age, that’s for sure.”

You shift on your feet, your nerves going haywire as his eyes travel up to meet yours. “He’s an absolute pleasure to have in class,” you respond, your heart fluttering when his gaze doesn’t move. “I’m positive he’s going to do great things in the future.”

Your eyes catch the LAFD emblem on his shirt, “just like his father it seems.”

Eddie lets out a chuckle, a low, husky sound that makes your knees weak. “You’re a charmer,” he says, taking a small step closer. “Do you always compliment the parents of your students?”

The sudden proximity of his body makes your pulse quicken as his scent slowly fills your nostrils.

He even smells good���god, what’s that scent?

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm and collected. “I’m just being honest,” you respond, ignoring the way your voice slightly wavers. You glance up at the clock on the wall, “Anyways, it was a pleasure to meet you Eddie, but I’ve—“

“would you want to go out for coffee sometime?”

The words immediately die in your throat, your heart nearly stops. For a second you honestly think you hallucinated the sound of his voice, but the expectant look in his eyes makes it very clear that he actually spoke.

You blink a few times, your voice caught in your throat. “What?”

Eddie’s smile grows, his gaze never leaving yours. “Coffee,” he repeats. “Would you want to go get a cup sometime?”

You stand frozen, completely dumbfounded. You honestly didn’t expect him to say that, and yet here he is; a charming, hot-as-hell, firefighter asking you out.

“I—I-“ you stumble over your words, your cheeks heating as his eyes roam over your face, “I can’t.”

Eddie’s smile quickly fades from his, his confident demeanor faltering. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” your words rush out, your cheeks still stained a deep red. “It’s just…I kind of have a rule about not dating parents of my students, you know?”

Eddie just nods his head, that unreadable expression on his face once again. “Yeah,” he says gruffly; the same firm edge back in his voice. “Don’t apologize, I get it.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, a gnawing feeling in your stomach that tells you you’ve made a mistake. “Because—”

But Eddie just gives you a dismissive wave of the hand, “It’s fine. Student’s parents and yadda yadda—I get it. I’ll see you around.” He gives you one last look, a small smile on his lips before he turns on his heel and walks towards the door.

You watch as he leaves, a feeling of dread settling in your chest.

“Goddammit…” You let out a groan, burying your face in your hands as you curse yourself for rejecting him.

“Hey Siri, add wine to my shopping list.”

II.

“Hi, can I just get an iced coffee? Thank you.”

the barista takes your order as you move off to the side of the line, awkwardly picking at the skin around your fingers. You bounce your leg anxiously as you glance up at the clock on the wall.

7:35 am

You’ve gotta be getting to the school—

You're snapped from your thoughts as you hear the door to the coffee shop open behind you; the small bell attached jingling in the air. As you glance over your shoulder, your eyes widen as they land on a familiar form.

Eddie stops in the doorway, eyes widening slightly in surprise as he looks at you. For a moment you just stand there, looking at each other, neither of you saying a word until the barista behind you speaks up and snaps you both into focus.

“Uh, your total is $2.50.”

You turn back towards the barista, hastily looking for a few dollars in your purse to hand them.

“Fancy running into you here.”

You can feel Eddie’s presence behind you, his voice low and rough. He pulls his debit card from his wallet and hands it to the barista.

“Oh, you don’t have to-” you start to protest, but Eddie just shakes his head slightly, interrupting you.

“I got it, don't worry about it.”

“I…thank you.”

The barista hands you your coffee as they take Eddie’s order.

“I’ll just take a large black coffee.”

Both of you stand there awkwardly for a moment, neither of you saying a word. It’s not like there is a lack of things to say or talk about- there are about a dozen things you want to ask him right now. But for some reason, the words just won’t come out.

“So uh….“ Eddie seems just as awkward as you do, his eyes never quite meeting yours as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets, “I’m sorry, about yesterday. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, asking you out like that.”

“I wasn’t—“ you cut yourself off, shaking your head slightly, “I appreciate the gesture, it’s just…” you fidget with the cup in your hand as you speak, struggling to find the words to describe your thoughts.

“Yeah I know,” Eddie sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t date parents of your students. It’s a good rule, a sensible one.”

“Right, it’s, uh yeah…” You look down at the coffee in your hand, fiddling with the little cardboard cupholder. You can feel his gaze on you, the weight of his eyes making you antsy.

“I’ve gotta get to the school—“

“What if I took you out for lunch?”

His question catches you off guard. You have to pause for a moment, processing his words.

“I-” you stutter, not sure how to respond. Your brain is screaming at you to say no, but at the same time, you can’t deny the thrill running through you at the thought.

“Black coffee for Diaz.”

The interruption causes Eddie to turn and face the barista. Glancing back towards the door, you take this as your chance to make a break, hastily slinking away.

“Wait-”

Eddie whips around to stop you, but you’re already halfway out the door, the little bell giving you away. He watches you go, a frustrated yet somewhat amused look on his face as he holds his cup.

“Uh sir, that’s gonna be $3.00…”

III.

The large mall is teeming with people, parents, and families going in and out of shops, or rushing past in order to reach their next destination. You look down at the shopping bags in your hands and groan softly under your breath. You had been here since 9 this morning, and you were already exhausted. And yet, you still had more shopping to do.

You take a step inside the store, immediately surrounded by various school supplies, decorations, and books. It’s a relatively small store, the aisles narrow, but the walls are lined with countless materials to use in the classroom.

You let out a small sigh as you look through the aisles, your face dropping when you read some of the prices.

“Jesus…how do teachers afford some of this stuff?”

You make your way through the store, slowly gathering a few supplies; dry erase markers, a new class calendar, and a few books to add to your library. The list in your pocket grows smaller with each thing you pick up.

You’re standing in an aisle debating over some new math flash cards when a voice suddenly sounds from behind you.

“Miss. (L/N)!”

Christopher…?

You quickly whip around, eyes widening as a smile forms on your face. Sure enough, there, standing in the middle of the store is your student Christopher; Eddie’s son.

“Chris!” You exclaim, walking over to the boy. “What are you doing here?”

Christopher stands there, a massive grin on his face as he looks up at you. “Dad and I are shopping!” he responds, his voice filled with excitement, “I was supposed to be helping him, but I kinda lost him.”

The realization that Eddie is around somewhere immediately sinks in, causing your heart rate to spike.

You quickly glance around, hoping and praying that Eddie is nowhere in sight. But as you look up, you spot a familiar mop of dark brown hair in the next aisle over.

You watch as Eddie looks over a few items in his hand, seemingly unaware of your presence. You can just barely see his face from your position, but notice he’s wearing a pair of dark jeans and a tight-fitting dark blue shirt. Your eyes rake over his form, taking in the way his clothes cling to his muscles, making it almost impossible for you to look away.

You swallow hard, forcing your attention back to Christopher, who is still smiling up at you.

“So have you been helping your dad shop today?” you say, praying that your voice doesn’t give you away. “Have you helped him pick out any good stuff?”

“Yeah!” Christopher exclaims. “We got new shoes for me,” he points down at the new vans on his feet. “And we got some new video games. We’re gonna get pizza later too.”

You nod along, listening to him, but your brain is still trying to process the fact that Eddie is so incredibly close to you right now.

“Christopher Diaz.” an all too familiar voice calls out.

Your head immediately snaps toward the end of the aisle, and your heart nearly stops. Eddie is standing there, a stern look on his face as he walks towards the two of you. He stops just a few feet away from you both, his gaze fixed on his son, who awkwardly fidgets beside you.

“Chris,” Eddie says, his tone firm yet soft at the same time. “I told you not to go over here. You could’ve gotten lost.”

Christopher’s expression twists, a sheepish look on his face as he looks up at his dad. “I got distracted,” he mumbles.

Eddie shoots his son a look, but his expression softens slightly as he looks up and sees you standing there.

There’s a moment of tense silence as Eddie’s eyes connect with yours, his intense gaze sweeping over you, making your heart skip a beat. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes locked on yours as he stands there; his hands in his pockets and his muscles tensing beneath his shirt.

Oh my god, how does he look so-

You almost forget how to breathe as Eddie’s eyes rake over you, your hands gripping your shopping bags tightly to the point you’re worried you’ll rip them.

“Hey.”

Eddie’s voice cuts through the silence, sending chills down your spine.

“Hi…” you respond, your voice weak. Christ, what is wrong with you right now?

Eddie looks down at the items in your hands, his eyes lingering on the ‘teacher store’ bags.

“Shopping for school supplies?” he asks, taking a step closer to you.

You nod in response, your voice not quite working. Eddie’s proximity makes it extremely difficult to think or speak, your heart fluttering against your chest.

You can practically feel his presence towering over you; a heat radiating off his body as his gaze is still locked on you. The urge to squirm under his look is almost too strong to ignore, your knees feeling weak.

“Yeah,” you finally respond, your voice slightly hoarse. “There’s a lot of stuff I still needed to pick up…”

Eddie nods, his eyes drifting down to your hands. Suddenly, he takes a step even closer, making your breath hitch in your throat as his shadow engulfs you. It takes every ounce of willpower that you have not to shiver under his gaze right now.

Without a word, Eddie carefully pries the bags from your hands, slowly taking them from you.

You feel your pulse skyrocket as his fingers graze against your skin, your brain short-circuiting as he takes the bags from your grasp.

“Uh…” is the only sound you manage to get out, your heart thudding against your ribcage.

What the hell is he doing?

Eddie doesn’t say anything as he takes the bags from you, his fingers grazing yours for a few extra moments before he takes a step back. He looks down at the bags in his hands, a smirk appearing on his face as he speaks.

“I’ll take these,” he says, his tone slightly nonchalant. “You can go finish your shopping.”

His words catch you off guard, and it takes a moment for you to process what he’s just said. “I…what?” you respond, still not quite believing he’s actually offering to do that.

Eddie just shrugs his shoulders, a casual look on his face. “You said there was more you had to pick up, right?” he replies, “So go do it. I’ll just follow behind you and carry the bags for ya.”

You can’t deny how attractive this is; the way he’s just casually offering to carry your shopping bags for you. But at the same time, this also feels…odd. You’re sure this has to be some kind of flirting tactic that he’s using.

But, you’re hardly complaining. If it means you get to spend more time with Eddie, you’re sure as hell not going to argue with it.

“Are you sure?” you ask, uncertainty in your tone.

Eddie just nods a smirk still on his face. "Of course, I don't mind at all," he responds, shifting his weight to one leg. "Consider it a favor for all those good grades you're giving my kid."

You let out a soft laugh, a slight tension in your shoulders lessening.

"Well, I guess if you insist..."

Eddie gives you a small smile, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment. He then looks down at Christopher, who has been quietly standing beside you throughout this entire exchange.

"Go look at some video games for me, buddy," he instructs his son. "I'll be right there in a minute."

"Okay!" Chris responds, shooting you a quick grin before he turns and walks away, disappearing down an aisle of electronics.

Eddie looks back towards you, his gaze focused solely on you now.

"So, what else is on your list?" he says, shifting the bags in his hand.

You blink a few times, forcing yourself to focus. It’s incredibly difficult to do when he’s standing this close, and looking at you with those dark eyes--

“Uhhh…” you falter, struggling to remember what on earth you had even needed. “More…flash cards, I think…” you respond, your words coming out slightly shaky.

Eddie nods, his eyes still locked on you. “Flashcards,” he repeats, the smirk still on his face.

He jerks his chin slightly, signaling for you to start walking. “Lead the way then.”

You swallow hard, nodding silently as you start walking down the aisle, your heart beating hard. It’s almost difficult to focus on walking properly with Eddie right behind you, so close you can almost feel his breath on your neck.

Luckily, you manage to locate the flashcards fairly easily, picking up a few different sets to add to your collection.

You quickly move on to the next item on your list, your footsteps almost robotic as you keep your eyes firmly ahead. You can feel Eddie’s presence behind you, his footsteps slightly heavier than yours despite his more casual demeanor.

Finally, you reach the last item on your list; push pins. You pick a few packs up, looking them over before adding them to your bag.

You let out a soft breath when you finally finish picking up everything you need. You turn around, coming face to face with Eddie.

“Damn, school supplies are a lot more expensive than I thought they were,” he comments, looking back up at you. “You must be planning on spending a fortune on all this stuff.”

You huff out a quiet laugh, looking down at all the items in his arms. “You’re not wrong,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders. “I’ve gotta practically sell my soul to pay for all of it, but the kids are worth it.”

“We can go check out now.” You gesture with your head towards the register.

God his arms look so good right now…

Eddie nods, readjusting the bags in his hands, “Lead the way, sweetheart."

You swear your heart stops for a second at the endearment, your throat going dry. Taking a deep breath, you turn and start heading towards the register.

As you reach it, your chest is fluttering like crazy as Eddie follows closely behind. You place the items on the counter and pay for them, the entire time forcing yourself to keep your eyes on the items in front of you and not on the man right behind you.

You finish paying, taking your receipt and shoving it deep into your pocket. You turn to take your bags from Eddie’s outstretched arms, praying he doesn’t notice your shaking hands.

“There you go,” Eddie says, his voice light and casual. “All done with your shopping.”

You nod, gripping the bags tightly, “Y-yeah, I’m all done,” you respond, your voice wavering slightly. Eddie's eyes flick over your face, an undecipherable look on his face.

He just silently watches you for a moment. then after a beat, he shoves his hands into his pockets, the casual smile back on his face.

Your heart is thudding against your ribcage; every word you want to say is caught in your throat right now. Just as you open your mouth to speak, however, Eddie’s voice interrupts you.

“Chris and I are gonna head up to the food court. Would you, uh…would you want to join us?”

The question catches you off guard, your breath hitching in your throat.

For a moment, you freeze, your brain short-circuiting as you try to process the implications. You want to say yes; spending more time with Eddie is a very tempting proposal. But it’s also a risky one.

“I-i would, really—but I can’t.”

The immediate flash of disappointment that crosses Eddie’s face is almost devastating.

Oh my god I think I would rather die than see this man sad

“Oh.” He says, his voice surprisingly soft. He lets out a breath that sounds almost like a scoff, his gaze flicking away from you for a moment.

“Yeah, of course,” Eddie finally looks back at you, an artificial smile on his face. “You must be pretty busy, yeah?”

Your heart breaks at the look of disappointment on his face, almost making you regret declining his offer.

But you know that you can’t accept it. The risk is just too high; too much could go wrong.

“Yeah,” you respond, trying your best to sound nonchalant. “I’ve got…lots of stuff to do. Lesson plans to write and stuff.”

Eddie just nods, still forcing a small smile, “Right, right. Makes sense. You should probably get on that then…”

Why do I feel like such crap now?

“Right,” you finally force out. “Bye, Eddie.”

You turn away, your heart pounding as you start walking away. For a split second, you want to look back behind you, want to see the expression on Eddie’s face. But you know deep down that it’ll probably make the aching pain in your chest even worse, so you don’t look back.

This sucks.

IV.

The fourth time you run into Eddie Diaz, you’re convinced that the universe is playing a cruel trick on you.

You had decided to go to a nearby park in order to try and get into the grading groove. The park is practically empty, just the occasional stranger walking by. You’re so caught up in a paper on Ancient Rome that you don’t even notice footsteps approaching.

“What’re you working on?” A low, gruff voice comes from your side. You look and see a very familiar, sweaty face, and pair of dark eyes looking down at the papers in your lap.

“Eddie?” You say, surprised to see him standing next to you out of the blue like this. You can’t help but notice the shimmer of sweat glistening off his body; was he running? His shirt clings to his muscular body and beads of sweat roll down his neck and face.

He nods his head slightly, taking in your appearance, how you’re wearing a soft t-shirt and some leggings, your hair lightly disheveled, “Yeah...I was out for a run.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face, and your eyes follow the movement, watching the way his arm flexes as he moves it. You quickly snap your gaze back down to the paper in your hand as he looks back at you.

“So…what are you working on?” Eddie repeats his question, tilting his head to the side slightly to try and look at the papers you’re still holding.

“Just doing some last-minute grading before the semester ends.” You admit, tucking a strand of your (h/c) behind your ear.

“You work on your day off?” He teases.

“I’m a good teacher, what can I say.” You say in mock defensiveness, placing a hand against your chest.

He laughs softly, the smirk on his face doing all kinds of things to your insides, “Clearly.” You give him a playful push on the shoulder, but the contact does nothing to stop the way you shiver as your hand brushes against the bare skin on his arm.

He runs his tongue across his lips, his eyes roaming your body.

You try and ignore his gaze as you look down at the paper in your hand. You’re suddenly very self-conscious about the outfit you’re wearing, all too aware of the sweat that’s coating Eddie’s body, the way his eyes are moving over you like he’s undressing you right here on the park bench.

“What if, after you get done with your grading…we go get some ice cream?”

The question catches you off guard. You look back at him, your expression a cross between confusion and surprise.

“Ice cream?” you repeat as if to make sure you heard him correctly.

“Yeah.” He’s got a lopsided grin on his face as he watches you. “Ice cream, at the stand around the corner here. C’mon, it’s hot out, you deserve a break after all this hard work.”

You glance down at the papers in your hand, contemplating what to do. You still have quite a bit of work left to get done, but Eddie is giving you that look again, almost daring you to agree, and for some reason, you’re tempted to throw caution to the wind. Yet…you can’t.

“I’d love to,” you start, and the surprised look on his face would be almost comical if you weren’t already internally wincing, “but I’ve still got a lot of grading left to do, and...” You pause for a moment, struggling to find an excuse to say no while not fully rejecting him. “And, I have that teacher’s seminar thing tomorrow so I gotta make sure I get some sleep tonight.”

It’s a pathetic excuse, and you know it. Judging from the expression on his face, Eddie knows it too. But he doesn’t call you out, just nods his head slightly.

“Yeah I get it, I guess I’ll let you get back to your…” he glances down at the papers in your hand, “papers. See ya around, (y/n).”

You’re just about to tell him to wait, to throw caution to the wind and agree to the ice cream. But he starts to move away, jogging towards the opening of the park.

You watch as he goes.

You know you made the right choice, even if a part of you doesn’t agree. You go back to grading, trying to ignore the way your skin still tingles from when you touched him.

V.

“Are you guys ready?!”

There’s a chorus of cheers from the kids. You can practically feel the excitement coming from them. They’ve been looking forward to this experiment for well over a week.

“Okay okay! Everyone stands behind the line!” You call, and the class scrambles back so they’re standing behind the white line you had taped down in the grass.

“Okay! On three everyone, one…two…thr—ow!” You feel a tiny pinch on your neck. Instinctively, you swat at your neck and see a dead honey bee lying in your palm.

“Ooh Miss. (L/N) it stung you!”

“Are you okay Miss. (L/N)?”

“Did it hurt?”

The kids have surrounded you now, and are talking over each other, their voices filling with concern and worry.

You hold up the small dead bee, trying to reassure your students. “I’m okay, it was just a tiny bee.” You assure them, but it doesn’t do much to ease the worried looks on their faces

You can feel a small bump forming where you got stung, already starting to hurt and burn.

“Why don’t you guys go count down from 10 in the line? You still get to see the big boom.” You shoo them into the row, all of them giving you concerned glances on the way.

As they count, you crave to find some sort of relief for your neck. It had started to hurt more than you expected, and it felt like the spot where you were stung was even starting to throb a bit.

“2...1!!!” You hear from the class as they finish their countdown. Your eyes widen in anticipation as you wait for the explosion from the small baking soda and vinegar volcano.

And sure enough, there is an explosion and a burst of purple lava-like foam from the vinegar and baking soda concoction. The kids cheer in excitement, pointing at the display before them.

You’d probably enjoy watching the joy on their faces more if you weren’t still struggling with the pain in your neck.

Something…something’s wrong.

You put a hand to your neck, rubbing it slightly, as the kids continue to gaze excitedly at the mess they just caused. Something was starting to feel off…and not just in your neck. The pain and the burning sensation from the sting was starting to grow and intensify, feeling as if it was running through your entire body. The pain in your neck is now excruciating, and you swear you can feel your chest start to get tighter.

You start to feel dizzy, the kids becoming a blur before your eyes. The noise around you is starting to become muffled and everything seems to be spinning a bit too fast.

“Call—call for help…” That's when everything goes black.

When you finally come to, everything is a haze at first. The first thing you become aware of is the beeping noise piercing your ear and the strong smell of antiseptic.

It takes a moment for your eyes to focus and actually look around. Once your vision adjusts, you become aware of the white walls around you, the sterile equipment. You’re in a hospital.

Flashes of what happened slowly start to return to you. You remember doing the science experiment with the kids, the bee, the pain, and then...nothing.

You lay there, (e/c) eyes staring up at the white ceiling, the memory of the kids running through your mind. Your heart almost stops. How are the kids?! Are they okay? They must have freaked out when you passed out.

The need to know if they’re okay overpowers you, and you push yourself up in the bed, the beeps from the heart monitor quickening in pace as you try to sit up, only to immediately be stopped by a firm voice

“Woah there, woah. You should probably stay still, you got some pretty strong drugs in you.”

Your eyes dart to the sound of the voice, and suddenly Eddie is standing there to your right, looking down at you, a concerned look on his face.

“E-Eddie…?” You say, unable to hide the surprise from your voice. He’s the last person you expect to see in the hospital room.

Why was he here?

“Yeah, it’s me.” He says, a soft comforting look on his face. He steps closer to the bed now, stopping right by the side of it, looking down at you. You swear you see him swallow a lump in his throat, “How are you feeling?”

You’re about to make a sarcastic remark about the strong pain meds that are currently running through your system, but the look on his face stops you. The concern and the worry that’s present is more than any casual parent should have, and it surprises you.

“Okay…I think. I’m a bit fuzzy right now, and my neck hurts a bit.”

He nods slightly, his eyes roaming your face, checking what you assume he can in the state you’re in. “Well that’s to be expected…ya know it was me and the rest of the 118 that responded to the call.”

He’s standing so close now, his body practically towering over you. A small lump forms in your throat at the revelation that it was him and his team that had responded to the call, it was them who had probably saved your life…he was probably the one who had saved you.

Eddie reaches a hand out now, almost as if he’s going to touch you but hesitates last minute, letting it drop to his side. He looks unsure, a strange look for the usually confident man.

“The, uh, the kids are safe,” he says, and a sense of relief washes over you. “There was some…chaos once you passed out, a few of them started crying, but they’re okay now, Buck was able to calm most of them down.”

“I-I just, I wanted to check on you.” His voice is low and quiet, you’d almost think he’s uncomfortable. And then it hits you. This man, this man who stands before you, a wall of muscle and toughness, actually looks almost nervous. It's endearing and sweet...and strangely attractive.

“Listen,” he spares a glance out into the hallway of the hospital, “I’ve gotta go, but when you get released…you really should let me take you out.”

His words are so unexpected that you think you actually hear him wrong. But it’s not a dream at all, or the meds that are running through you. Eddie looks at you, a soft, pleading look on his face, as he waits for your answer.

For a moment you’re so shocked that you can’t even speak. Eddie’s already got your head spinning at the best of days, the fact that he's asking you out right now is almost too much for you to process. In a weak moment, you’re tempted to just give in…but you can’t.

“I—I can’t…” you practically whisper, and the expression on Eddie’s face is almost enough to make you change your mind. He looks like a puppy that’s just been kicked. “I-I appreciate the offer Eddie…but we both know it’s not a good idea.”

He looks down at the ground, the disappointment present on his face. He nods his head slightly as if to agree with you, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to. He clenches his jaw, and swallows, looking back up to you, the pleading look in his brown doe eyes slightly stronger now.

“I-okay.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep yourself from taking it back, from telling him that yes, yes you’ll go out with him. You watch as he stands there for a moment longer, wanting to say something else, but stops himself, turns away, and leaves the hospital room.

You feel your heart sink as he leaves, a feeling of guilt and disappointment washing over you. You know that your reasons for saying ‘No’ are good ones—great ones! But still, as he walks off…

You already regret saying it.

VI.

This…this is violating so many different ethics laws.

you hastily walk down the street, “Oh my god, I’m gonna lose my job for this.”

So what if went back to your emergency forms and got the Diaz’s address? It’s not like it makes you a stalker.

…right?

as much as you try and tell yourself, you know you shouldn’t be doing this, and yet no part of you wants to stop.

You’re so lost in your thoughts, that it’s a miracle you don’t miss the street where Christopher lives. Walking on, you suddenly feel a drop of rain splash against your face.

Looking up at the sky, you see black clouds moving in rapidly, “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

As you turn the corner, you see the street numbers slowly rising as you get closer to the one that matches Christopher’s house. Your heart is racing, and you start walking even faster, the rain starting to come down in heavy sheets.

Once you finally reach Christopher’s house, you stop, staring at the front door. All the doubts that have been nagging at you in the back of your mind start to come back in full force.

You shouldn’t be here.

And yet, you are.

You take a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare yourself to knock on the door. You’re already so far down this rabbit hole, might as well dig deeper, right?

With a trembling hand, you reach up and knock on the door, the sound of the rain getting louder as the moments pass. You hold your breath as you wait for an answer, feeling every second tick by.

The seconds feel like minutes, and the rain starts to get worse, until finally, you hear the door unlocking.

The door swings open, and Eddie stands there, his eyes widening in obvious surprise as he sees you standing there. The rain is falling faster now, and you can feel the cold drops hitting and drenching your clothes.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Eddie asks, the confusion obvious in the tone of his voice. You look like a complete and utter drowned rat, hair soaked, body starting to shiver. How long had you been standing out in the rain for?

“I want you to go out with me!” You shout over the heavy rain.

Eddie’s expression morphs into almost complete shock, his eyes widening and his mouth hanging open. He stares at you, clearly not having expected that at all. You stand there, looking up at him, and your face is drenched with rain, water dripping from your hair and running down your face, but you don’t care, because all you can focus on is the man in front of you as you nervously ramble.

“I-I completely understand if you don’t want to. You’ve asked me out so many times and I’ve turned you down repeatedly, but after the other day I-i just couldn’t—“

You’re cut off mid-sentence as Eddie surges forward, his body almost colliding with yours as he pushes himself against you. The kiss takes you by complete surprise, and you don’t react for a moment, but you soon find yourself kissing him back. You can feel your heart thump against your chest as his lips continue to press against yours.

This is what you’ve craved for what seems like forever now. The feeling of his lips on yours, the taste of him. The cold rain doesn’t even register, all that registers to you is him. The feeling of his body pressed against you as his lips move against yours has you feeling a high you never have before.

Finally, after what feels like hours, Eddie pulls back slightly. The two of you are both a mess, breathing heavily, hair soaked, and clothes sticking to your bodies. But all Eddie is focused on is you.

He stares down at you, his eyes roaming your face, “You…you really want to go out with me?” he says incredulously, his voice low, barely able to be heard over the rain. You can’t help the wide smile that breaks out across your face.

“yes.”

A look of complete surprise and happiness crosses his face at your answer. Eddie’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face and for a moment the two of you are silent, staring at each other, taking everything in.

Until a shiver wracks throughout your body, cold from being out in the rain.

Eddie’s eyes dart down to your form. Concern flashes across his face as he looks down at your clothes, which are now drenched and sticking to you. “Jesus Christ…you’re soaked.” He says, his eyes roaming over you once more

“I could say the same for you.”

He chuckles, reaching out and grabbing one of your hands; rubbing it between his in an attempt to warm you up.

“Let’s get you inside. You’re gonna get sick out here,” He keeps a grip on your hand as he leads you into the house, shutting the front door behind the two of you.

“then…we can talk about where I finally get to take you for this date.”

[kombuuuu]

Omg I just saw that u write for atsv!! So I was wondering if u could do one with a female reader x hobie where the readers quite reserved to everyone in public (maybe she’d been a spidey longer so she’s lost more people? Idk why she’d be reserved bc I cannot write for shot lmao) and people think she’s super cold but then they like?? Walk in, and she’s like open and warm with Hobie (it doesn’t matter if she’s loud or not) and they kinda just look at the scene in shock like wtf and Pav is sort of smug bc he knew all along and then it comes out that they’re dating?

It Sounds Nice coming from You.

Hobie Brown x Fem!Spidey Reader

“I totally called it.” “Don’t even speak, Pavitr.”

kisses him cause he my bf (-compulsive liar)

People whispered about you. Spider people and the general public alike. Your city spreading gossip, rumours and misinformation to try and figure out who you were, but that was a Spiderwoman affair, every one of them dealt with it.

But having people same as you talk in hushed tones, glancing at you as you walked past. That’s a new kind of feeling.

The Spider Society didn’t exactly favour you, per se. There was nothing inherently wrong with you either, so no reason to get rid of you. But you were just so silent. No one knew a thing about you.

You mostly kept to yourself around base, never really trying too hard to make friends, you were well known enough not to be questioned. A loyal fighter was what you were recognised for, not your personality, your abilities.

There were still some people that managed to creep their way in though, their hearts so full of love, you didn’t know how to refuse them.

So you conceded. You let them in, and begged to any deity that would listen not to take them from you.

—

Hobie knew you as someone who could listen. Who understood him rather than challenged his beliefs. Not that he had any, but that was the point.

Your lack of input made him feel accepted in going on tangents of why he thought the way he did. And you just sat, and listened. A kind heart and an open mind.

Which eventually led to him falling for that kind heart. Tripping over his own feet to please your silent self. To get those small smiles or amused huffs out of you.

The occasional time you spoke to him, under hushed breaths and fond tones. God, he couldn’t take it.

The way your accent forms over each and every word, how your voice was akin to honey malt, sweet and addicting. Only giving him small doses, but he was the only one who got those doses. Only him, and you, and the words you spoke or times you listened.

He knows that people thought you were cold, or unloving. And maybe you were at first, maybe he thought you were. But he figured you out fast. Where you couldn’t talk, you could touch. Brushing your hands over his arm to get his attention. Linking your hand through his and dragging him away from people you don’t want to be near, he would smile down at you and follow along like a lost puppy. How your brows would crease a certain way, or nose would scrunch a little when you found distaste in things. He was a fool for you.

Where you lacked in verbal communication, you strived in every other category. So when some Spider-people decided to come to him, urging him for answers about you.

Telling him that he wasn’t sure you even wanted to be here—, Hobie would shut down the conversation quicker than thought to be possible. Giving a simple “She’s just quiet.”, and ditching the moment the words are out of his mouth.

It’d worked—, for a while. Ignoring the demeaning or conspiratorial comments made about you by spider-people a-kind. But eventually it got the better of him. Having him borderline snarl at the people who would talk shit right in front of his, or your, face.

“She’s silent, ain’t she?”

“Yeah. Peter 48 said she was like that ‘cause she killed her parents, made ‘er real quiet.”

“Jesus christ. Wouldn’t surprise me, she’s a freak.”

“Dude—“ One of the two spiders, the first one, turned to Hobie. Spider-senses ringing. Hobie stated back at them, deadpan and unblinking. “Don’t.”

The younger spider paled, quickly trying to backtrack.

“Hey— Hobie. I— Didn’t mean it. Was just repeating what I heard, ykno—“

“Cut it, mate.”

He squeaked, head tilting down in respect, the other spider following.

“Stop spreading shit rumours like ‘at. It ain’t fun when you’re the subject. ‘S it?”

“No.”

“Mm.”

Hobie walked past them smoothly, brushing shoulders with the kid just to scare him a little more. When he was far enough away, he heard them start to whisper to one another. “Fuck man, that was close. He could tell Miguel, and then we’d be out.”

“Jesus..”

He felt rather accomplished that day.

—

It was days later where you were brought up around him again. He’d been texting you, the upper half of his body hanging from Miguel’s platform, his wicks shifting every time he moved.

Miguel and Lyla were talking amongst themselves, clicking through holograms and sorting things out for potential anomalies.

Jess, Pavitr and Gwen had walked into the room chatting, Pav and Gwen expressing their excitement rather loudly.

He glanced up at them from his phone, you were still typing.

immm gonna b homein ten just be patient >:(

I’m patient 🦑

u werent 2 seconds ago

I don’t subscribe to consistency.

Or this slandering talk

ur consistently lame

also why squid

I’m never lame. Also, he’s cute

hes not real

Don’t do this me

reeeeeal tasty tho

What is wrong with you.

numnnum crunchhhh crrcchhh numnum ( > _ <)

Inhumane.

mmmmmm yummyyyy

He can’t die, he’s immortal

The ‘Texting’ bubble popped up on his screen.

“Hey, Hobie!”

Pavitr was running up to him, looking from his lowered position below the elevated platform.

He slipped further down the platform, slumping slowly as he greeted Pavitr upside down.

“Pav, my guy!”

Pavitr bounced on the balls of his feet, smiling wide at his friend.

“What’chu doing up there?”

His eyes darted to Miguel and Lyla, ending their conversation.

Smirking, he whispered to Hobie, “With the grump.”

Hobie snickered, gaining a disapproving look from Jess.

“Textin’ [Name].”

Just then, the next message from you showed.

immortal ??? how consistent of him to live

He grinned, typing back quickly while Pavitr eyed him knowingly.

He’s a squid, he’s more fluid than anything

ihu

terrivle joke

No, you don’t

And it was great

wtvr >:P

Hobie grabbed the ledge of the platform and swung down, landing softly in front of Pavitr and pocketed his phone.

“Glad ya ‘ere. Those two can’t keep it quiet, aye?” He said, pointing back towards Lyla and Miguel.

“They do argue very often.”

“Nah, Lyla don’t argue, mate. Just the hardass.”

Pavitr snorted and Hobie softly punched his stomach in jest, earning one from Pav to the chest, and starting a round of playful punching. Pavitr laughed as Hobie brought him into a headlock, scrunching his fist over the shorter man’s hair and rubbing it in.

They let up when they heard Lyla teasing Miguel for something again, giggling to each other at his expense.

He threw an arm over his fluffy haired friend and leaned his weight on him. Pav smiled up at him once more, brighter now. Before he could speak, Gwen’s voice echoed through the barren room.

“Same reason as you, I’m guessing.”

Hobie turned his head towards her, dropping himself off Pav and standing up straight again. Smiling at her as she reached him, and went in to hug her briefly. When they disconnected, he spoke again.

“Yeah—, No clue then, mini-punk.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Neither big bad has said nothin’ to me yet.”

“Seriously, are we going to skip over that?”

“Maybe they’re waiting until [Name] is here!” Pavitr chimed in.

“What does mini-punk even mean!”

“Not exactly, Pavitr.”

Jess, who now was standing next to Miguel, spoke.

The trio turned to face the two elder spider-people.

“Huh?”

“We wanted to have a discussion with the three of you—.” Miguel put his hands on his hips, authority that Hobie only saw as a challenge emanating from his figure.

“—Away from [Name], she’s already been consulted.”

Hobies eyes narrowed, the atmosphere in the room suddenly shifting to something a lot less unfriendly, and a lot more cautious.

Jess caught wind of the younger man’s tense stature and shuffled forward a step, not unwilling to intervene.

“Nothing too bad, just—,” He paused for a moment, the dense light from the reflective floors making the contours of his face pop.

Hobie watched with batted breath, posture only slightly relaxing from the statement. The crease in his brows begging to be drawn, yet his pokerface was something to be beat.

“,—Addressing her.. lack of communication.”

A shiver raked down the brit’s body, physically restraining himself from chewing this man out with a rebuttal.

“Wha’ ‘bout it?”

His gruff voice was a stark indicator of his annoyance.

“Well, ignoring the rumours following her—,”

Hobie, the usually rather sensical man, was getting more agitated by the minute.

“,—We’ve noticed a certain independence that she holds. Something not many others do.”

The punk quirked a brow.

“So?” Gwen was the one to talk now.

“That doesn’t seem very serious, ‘f you ask me.” She laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood. Something Pavitr seemed a tad scared to do. There was a lot of competition in the air right now, he wasn’t very competitive.

“Exactly, it’s not.”

Jess cut in, seeing how terribly Miguel started this conversation made her cringe.

“It’s not—, but,” She shook her head, hair falling prettily with every move. “,Her ‘independence’, has been more akin to ‘lack of teamwork’. In some cases.”

Gwen started to speak again, her eyebrows furrowed, just as Hobies now were. He was right about brewing with offence.

“So!—,” Jess cut her off before she could begin.

“So there’s no need for her to have distractions anymore. From now on, she will not be going on team missions. Just solo’s.”

“Wha—! You’re cutting her off?!”

“Gwen, it’s not like that.”

“Like hell it isnt! She’s a part of us!”

“Doesn’t this mean she’s going to be in more danger?” Pavitr spoke up, concerned.

“No— well, not unless—,”

“Unless!? You’ve gotta’ be kidding!” Gwen choked out.

“And what does ‘consulted’ mean! Did she agree to this?!—“

They continued to argue, Gwen and Pavitr advocating for your teamwork skills while Miguel and Jess had made up their mind.

“No communication,” He pinched the bridge of his nose “,Fuck off.” Hobie scoffed under his breath, turning to leave and storming out.

The voices of Miguel, Jess and his friends following him through the portal to you.

—

“You agreed to this?”

lIts not like they’re wrong, I just hold you all back.”

He huffed, exasperated. Not only were you putting yourself in danger, you were doing it alone. And letting some guy who has a borderline vendetta against teens be the call for it.

“Now, you know that’s not tr—“

His stern voice was cut off by the frown on your face quivering. A due sign of you nearing to cry.

“Oh, shit— C’mon dollface, c’mere.”

He sat down on your shared bed, scooting against the headboard and bringing you into his lap. A soothing hand ran over your back as you tried to reel in your embarrassment.

“I really didn’t mean to agree.”

Hobie sighed, pushing your head into his neck and watching how the rings adorning his fingers rose goosebumps in their path. “I know, sweet’eart.”

And he did know, the moment that it had been a meeting addressed solely with just Jess and Miguel, he knew that Peter had been excluded for a reason. That Miles had been sent after an anomaly as an unknowing distraction for Peter to chase after. He knew those two intimidated you. And the fear of parental disappointment was something they used on you—, young, sweet you. That only ever got hurt because she didn’t want her problems to hurt others, or herself.

You had opened up to him once. Told him what everyone twisted when they whispered sickening words. A story unlike the rumours crowding your reputation.

How no, you hadn’t killed your parents, or siblings, or whatever messed up thing people claimed of you.

You told him how you hadn’t been bitten yet. How, when your family was killed, you hadn’t had any powers. So you couldn’t save them. And it wasn’t even canon. Nothing could’ve stopped them from dying, but it didn’t have to happen. And that was the guilt that weighed on you. How no matter the hardships your parents put you through, a kid neglected of attention. You still would rather die a million times for them to live once.

And it’s all “would”, and never “can”.

Other spider-people don’t have to live with the fact their parents died for nothing. Was what you said. A messed up thought, no doubt. And one you felt guilty for. But the sole continuer of this sorrow-filled silence. Which has worked well enough to protect you so far, why is Hobie one to break that?

Because you love him, you guess.

His hands slid further down your back, resting on the curve of your waist in his lap.

His breathing soothed yours. The shuddering breaths you had been giving to stop your tears, also stopped.

“You wanna talk about your day instead, luv?”

“Yeah, thank you Hobie.”

“Love when you say my name, Babydoll. So pretty and sweet like that.”

Wrapping your hands around his lithe waist, you hummed. Beginning your recount of the day in the honeyed, reserved tone you’d always held.

—

Around half an hour had passed with Gwen arguing against Miguel before Peter showed up, Moles in tow.

“What’s all this about?” His slippers flopped when he walked and the baby carrier strapped to his chest shifted every time a sleeping MayDay squirmed to get comfortable.

“This—, This asshole!”

“Gwen.” Jess chastised her.

Gwen ignored it, pointing at Miguel accusingly. “—Kicked [Name] off the team!”

“Not kicked.”

“You said she wasn’t going with us anymore.”

Miles looked offended by the prospect. “Why?”

“She’s not kicked, she’s simply better off solo.”

“Oh, so it’s our fault then!”

“Gwendolyne.”

“All of you, stop.”

Peters voice ended the bickering, having learnt since fatherhood exactly how to use said voice. “We are not sending an 18 year old on solo mission against anomalies.”

“Since when did you have a say—“

“Miguel. You’re an idiot if you think i’m going to let that happen. That’s a kid.”

“She’s an adult.”

“When it’s convenient to you.”

Miguel pinched his nose bridge, growling under his breath. Jess spared a glance at him before wincing and backing down from the conversation.

“She doesn’t talk to people.”

“I’m sure she does, just not to you.” Gwen cut in.

“Yeah, her and Hobie talk a lot.” Miles prepped up on his toes. Pavitr smiled and hummed an agreement.

“Not that I’ve seen.”

Peter gave him another disapproving look. “Disregarding that. The fact you decided to not consult me on this decision is another reason that it’s not happening.”

“Consult? Like some council, please.” Miguel scoffed at him, rolling his eyes and turning to open a holographic tab.

“Yes, like some council. Someone’s gotta be the brains ‘round here.” The father joked, coddling MayDay as she cooed.

“I’m going to go inform [Name] the retraction of this decision.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Oops too late, portals open.”

“Can I come with?” Miles jogged after Peter, hopping quickly through the portal, Peter, Gwen and Pavitr following. Not without Gwen flipping Miguel off as she went. “We’ll sort something out, she can go duos with Hobie.” Jess put a hand on his shoulder, watching as he stared off to where the portal had previously been with a sided expression before sighing.

“Yeah..”

“That went great.” Lyla dragged, popping up on Miguel’s shoulder.

“I’m a second away from shutting you off.”

The AI blew a raspberry at her companion, and disappeared.

—

He had went off on a tangent about some movie he saw, or song he’d heard. Hobie honestly couldn’t remember, he was too focused on you. The way your voice sounded, how open you were being with him when every now and then you would respond to him. The hearts in his eyes were probably from how heavy his own was beating. Staring at you like a sinner to a prophet.

You had moved down from his lap, now curled against his side, head leaning on his shoulder and hand resting on his chest. At some point, the movie you had been watching before Hobie showed up was unpaused, and serving as background noise for his quiet rambling.

Both of you pressed under a blanket to beat the cold, and the darkness outside your window being killed off by the lights strung across your room. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this cozy, this utterly comfortable.

Sparks of colour strung out of nowhere, neither of them really seeing it at first, up until it spat out Miles. He stumbled forward a little and went to greet you before taking on the scene. You and Hobie cuddled up on a bed, blanket wrapped around you both, fire going, people singing. He was exaggerating the last parts, but it felt necessary for something so unexpected.

“Hey—, guys.” The awkward teen managed, before Peter walked through the portal with the other two in tow.

“Woah, no mean to interrupt.”

Peter put his hands up in surrender. Hobie snorted, it wasn’t like you were incapable of affection, It just seems he was the only one who got it.

“I totally called it.”

“Don’t even speak, Pavitr.”

He pouted, before giggling and waltzing over to sit next to the both of you. Flopping down on the bed and turning to watch the TV.

“Oh my god, I love this movie!”

“Favourite character?” You inquired. A collective raise of eyebrows was shown throughout the room.

Gwen shuffling over to sit down as well, a baffled look on her face.

“The horse.”

“Pff- Max?” Hobie snorted at Pav. Giving the still rather confused Miles - Peter duo a reassuring smile. And greeting Gwen with a fist bump, she smiled wearily at him before her smirk filled out and she punched his arm in congrats.

Pavitr nodded and laughed, gasping excitedly when the scene on the lake showed up. “Perfect timing.”

You glanced up at Hobie, Miles and Peter finding somewhere to sit as well, talking quietly amongst themselves.

He smiled at you, bringing you in closer while Pavitr sat smug.

The air of confusion slowly dissipated into something accepting, none but Pavitr had really expected you to be so.. Open. But they came to find they didn’t exactly mind it.

—

Everyone had left by now, the knowledge that you didn’t have to go on dangerous missions alone anymore leaving Hobie satisfied and you comforted.

“You doin’ right, babe?”

“Yeah, Hobes.”

You gripped his shirt a tad tighter and yawned, eyes drifting more shut as the minutes ticked down. “Wanna go t’ bed?”

“We’re in bed, dummy.”

He shot you a playful look.

“Don’ ge’ smart with me, young lady.”

You smiled at him before he made the decision to shuffle you both down in bed to get comfortable, switching off the lights by the outlet. He moved back to you, letting his whole body rest near yours, and letting you initiate any contact wanted.

A leg wrapped around his, and your arm still picking the fabric of his shirt.

“Sleep, sweethear’.”

“Mhmmph.”

Hobies breathe lulled you to sleep, white noise against your racing thoughts. He watched you fall, your trust in him to keep you safe was enough to make a man weak. He smiled, looking out your shared window at the city life below.

No crime, no anomaly or misshaped villain could possibly drag him away from you.

—

BAMBAMBAM 🦑‼️

[hgfictionwriter]

Self Control: Part Five - A Glimpse

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: It's time for the first ultrasound. Jessie's overwhelmed with emotion at getting to see your baby for the first time. And if you happen to be feeling better for a spell, no better time for you and Jessie to satisfy some needs.

Warnings: Needy, passionate smut. G!P. Grinding and edging, oral (r receiving), G!P sex, preg and breeding kink, mention of cockwarming, language.

A/N: The rest of the Control series can be found here.

Jessie sat, your hand gripped tightly in hers, next to the exam table in the obstetrician's exam room as you underwent your initial visit.

You'd barely let go of her since you left the apartment. You held her hand the entire time leading up to the point when Jessie had to step back as you gowned up and prepared for your baby's first ultrasound. Jessie's heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears for most of the visit, but she put on a calm, brave face for you.

The obstetrician, Dr. Mal, had been warm and patient as she walked you both through the journey as new expecting parents, and for that, Jessie was grateful. She even beamed proudly, pushing past her bashfulness as the doctor praised her for her dutiful note taking and eagerness to be involved.

A large portion of the visit involved extensive cataloging of family medical histories, reviewing a schedule of upcoming appointments and milestones, and general information and instructions. Jessie released a subtle sigh of relief when Dr. Mal very confidently relayed that she had no concerns about your pregnancy at this point.

Now, it was time for the ultrasound. While it was to confirm the placement and size of your baby, as well as estimate your due date, it was also your first chance to see your baby. Jessie was a bundle of nerves and her mouth was dry.

"We aren't able to do an abdominal ultrasound this early in the pregnancy, the embryo is too small and we can get clearer, better images this way," Dr. Mal explained. "I know this is not the most comfortable, but do your best to relax and let's see what we find."

Your hand gripped Jessie's tighter as the wand was inserted and Jessie rubbed your shoulder with her other hand.

Soon, all three of you had your eyes trained on the monitor next to the table. Jessie's eyes scanned the screen as different grainy images came and went until things more or less were static. Jessie stilled as she saw a little round dark area with an even smaller shape inside of it. She stared unblinking as she quickly made out the tiny figure in the image.

"And there's your baby," the doctor said as she pointed. "They're only about an inch at this point, but you can see here we're starting to see some defined features. Here's their head, their rump - and you can see where their teeny tiny arms and legs are just starting to form."

"Jess." Your shaky voice broke Jessie out of her reverie and she glanced down at you, mouth slightly agape as she tried to process everything. A watery smile crossed her face right away when she saw the tears in your eyes as you stared at your baby on the monitor. She squeezed your hand tightly and leaned down kissing your forehead as her own tears started to form.

This was your baby. This baby that you made together. They were made out of love, passion and devotion and they were real.

"And look at that. Or rather, hear," she went on with a smile and glance over at Jessie and you. "That sound is your baby's heartbeat. And that flickering on the image there - that's the heart beating. We can't always hear it this early on, so that's fantastic. Really strong."

Jessie's breath caught in her throat and the tears welling at the corner of her eyes started to spill over as a low steady beat sounded from the monitor.

"Oh my God," Jessie breathed in absolute wonder.

"Pretty amazing, right?" The doctor asked.

"Beyond," Jessie said, wiping at her eyes and refusing to tear her gaze away from the screen.

When Jessie looked down at you again, you turned your head towards her and she saw the trail of tears on your cheeks. Jessie's emotions bubbled up again at the sight and she let out a small, happy sob. You looked lovingly up at her and kissed her hand.

By the time you both left the office, you had a couple of copies of the ultrasound, Jessie insisting on getting physical copies in addition to the digital. She hugged the photo to her chest as soon as it was handed to her.

You weren't even back to your car yet when Jessie and you collided in an emotional and tender embrace. Her shoulders and yours shook as you both cried happily at the gravity and relief of this moment.

This was happening. It was no longer a hypothetical or a maybe, it was so incredibly real - Jessie saw your baby with her own two eyes and heard their heartbeat loud and strong. She held the picture that proved they were real; that you and her had come together to create this tiny miracle who would grow. And 8 months from now, Jessie would be holding them and taking them home.

Jessie sniffled as she pulled back enough to see you, laughing softly at herself.

"I'm a wreck," she said as she wiped at her tears again. You laughed and wiped away her tears for her.

"Well that makes two of us. Oh my God," you said still in awe. You looked at Jessie, eyes shimmering as a quiet smile played across your face. "We're having a baby," you said in wonder, your voice thick with emotion.

"We are," she affirmed, feeling her throat grow tight again. She rolled her eyes with a laugh. "I'm gonna cry again." She sniffled and looked at you resolutely. "Thank you. Thank you carrying our baby. For choosing me. I've always thought you were amazing, but what you're doing now," she shook her head, "you are truly incredible. I love you so much."

Jessie kissed you deeply, vainly hoping that she could pour every ounce of her love for you and this family you were building right into her kiss.

"Jessie." Your gaze flit away and you dabbed at your eyes. "Now I'm crying again," you laughed. "We chose each other. There's honestly no one I could want to raise a family with more than you. There never was and there never will be. It's us," you placed your hand on your lower stomach. "and now this little one as well."

------

Originally, Jessie was planning to Zoom with her family over the weekend to share the good news. You both agreed to wait until the first trimester was over before you'd tell friends and others, but Jessie simply couldn't wait to tell her family. The morning after your doctor's visit, she was in the family chat coordinating a group call for that evening.

"You ready?" Jessie asked as she gave your leg a squeeze as you sat next to each other at the table, chairs pressed up against one another's, laptop set up in front of you. She was practically buzzing with excitement. You nodded and kissed her sweetly.

"Least if I have to make an impromptu disappearance, to you know, heave up dinner, they'll understand now," you said with a sly grin.

"Are you feeling sick?" Jessie asked, energy changing completely as she examined your features.

"No," you chuckled as you rubbed her leg. "I'm feeling fi-"

Your response was cut off by voices joining the call. You all waved and greeted each other cheerfully, exchanging some initial pleasantries and updates before Jessie's sister cut in.

"Okay, what's the deal. What's with the call, Jess?"

Jessie held back a smile, but her eyes shone bright and her posture opened up at the prospect of what she was about to relay. You both looked at one another. You gave her a subtle nod of encouragement.

"Uh, well," Jessie said somewhat melodramatically. She glanced to you again. "we, um, have some news."

Jessie caught on the video the way you watched her adoringly. She smiled as she retrieved the ultrasound photo off of the table. She took a small breath before lifting it up to the camera, ensuring it was in focus.

She wore a bright smile and watched their reactions intently, her eyes darting from picture to picture on the screen.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Oh my God!"

"Holy shit!"

A scatter of excited exclamations came through the laptop speakers and Jessie watched on, beaming, as her family reacted with joy.

"I know we haven't talked with any of you about this at all, so it probably seems sudden, but we really wanted this and we're ready. We're so excited."

"Honey," her mom said warmly, "you've been far more mature than your age since you were a kid. I have no doubt you're ready. You'll be amazing parents. Congratulations! I'm so happy - I'm going to be a grandmother! And Y/N, you are glowing already."

"It's probably just the sheen from my morning, afternoon, and evening sickness," you quipped before blushing. "I'm sorry. Thank you," you finished measuredly. Jessie just smiled at you and gave your leg a reassuring squeeze.

"I had it so bad when I was pregnant with Jessie," her mom went on in immediate empathy. "If you're like me, it should go away in the second trimester. How far along are you?"

"Ah, so it's really Jessie's fault," you joked as you gave her a playful nudge. "We're 8 weeks along."

By the end of the call, each of Jessie's family members had committed to flying out sooner rather than later to sneak in the first of what they all hoped were more frequent visits.

They also blocked off their calendars for when the baby was due or the month or two after so they could visit in shifts to help. It was bordering on overwhelming, but Jessie was grateful. You loved her family, taking them on more as your true family than your biological one by this point, so you were thrilled, too.

"It's no wonder you turned out so well," you commented affectionately as Jessie was closing the laptop. "I mean, you're sweet by nature, but growing up with such a loving and supportive family, it's not a surprise you've been able to become the person you are today." Your gaze dropped momentarily. "I hope we can provide an environment as loving and warm as you had growing up."

"We absolutely will," Jessie said without hesitation. "I know you didn't have that growing up, but just you noting this shows how much you want things to be different for our child." You nodded and Jessie saw you actively working to keep darker thoughts at bay.

"You're right. I know exactly what I don't want for our child. I know what I needed but didn't get growing up, and I want to make sure they have it," you said as you rest your hand on your stomach. Jessie leaned in and kissed your shoulder.

"You're going to be an amazing mom. I don't have a doubt in my mind about that." She saw a shred of insecurity still showing on your face. "You know how important family is to me, I wouldn't want to start one with someone who didn't fit into the vision of what I want for one."

"You're too sweet to me," you told her as you squeezed her hand.

"My family's your family, you know," Jessie reminded you. "And now, we'll have our own."

----------

That evening, Jessie laid in bed, splayed out and relaxed, her arm behind her head as she read her book and waited for you to come to bed.

She heard you come in from the bathroom and continued reading as she felt the bed shift as you climbed on. She was mid-sentence when you plucked the book out of her hands. Her hand remained in mid-air, a frown on her face as she processed what was going on. Further confusion set in when you rest your hands on her torso and straddled her hips, clad in pajamas which, as usual, consisted of just an oversized night shirt and underwear.

"How's your book?"

Jessie's frown lingered as she stared at you a moment. "It's fine," she said noncommittally, skepticism in her voice as she finally lowered her hand, letting it rest at the crook of your knee.

"What part are you at?" you said lightly, shifting subtly as you readjusted your position. A jolt shot through Jessie, centering between her legs under the friction and heat of your body. Her whole body began to tense up at your newfound proximity, but she did her best to relax.

With how you'd been feeling, you hadn't slept together in a couple of weeks. Reflecting upon it, Jessie felt ridiculous for even remotely considering it a dry spell. Before you, she'd gone for months or even years at a time without sex. She wasn't a one-night-stand or casual kind of person, and truthfully, the lack of sex didn't bother her. However, since being with you, she couldn't get enough. And since that fateful morning when this whole journey started, she'd been insatiable.

Sure, sometimes you went weeks without sex because she'd be at tournaments, but that was different. Even when you first started seeing each other, though Jessie was fully ready to take it slow, by date two she was in your bed - and stayed there until the following afternoon.

Regardless, she was dedicated to ensuring you didn't feel any pressure to have sex unless you were feeling completely better and ready. And, well, her lonely cock starting to harden in her boxers and jut up into you would harm her cause.

She did her best to think about her book.

"Uh, just reading about how the allocation of parking spaces affects property values and urban development," Jessie said evenly, keeping her eyes trained on yours as you listened attentively.

"Mm. That part's really interesting. Have you gotten to the part about urban heat islands?" You asked, dropping your gaze briefly as you toyed with the hem of her shirt, your hands sneaking under and resting on her stomach once more. Your thumb slowly grazed along her abs. She clenched her jaw briefly.

Right. She somehow forgot in the moment that you already read it. In fact, you're the one who recommended it for her.

"No," she replied, doing her best to not sound abrupt. She gave herself a moment. "I haven't gotten there yet."

"Hm," you voiced as you leaned forward, removing one hand from under her shirt to retrieve the book again. Jessie swallowed a groan as you settled back down on her. She swore you rolled your hips as you did so. You opened the book.

"The prioritization of parking spaces in urban planning not only influences property values but also reshapes architectural design..."

Your mouth was moving, but your words weren't registering in Jessie's mind anymore as you, not so subtly now, began to slowly grind yourself against her cock. Jessie's gaze shot to the ceiling as she tried to retain control.

Her breathing was quiet, but laboured, her teeth now grit together as she returned her eyes to see you oh so nonchalantly reading to her as you rocked your hips and idly traced across Jessie's stomach with your thumb.

With the heat of your core, thinly veiled by your skimpy panties no less, along with your sensual movements made this a losing battle for Jessie. Her brow furrowed with concentration as she tried valiantly to ward off her arousal, but the blood rushing to her member made it impossible.

"Uh, babe?" Jessie interjected, her voice more strained than it should've been as she subconsciously gripped your legs that were gorgeously spread around her hips.

"Hm?" You asked innocently, your movements stilling as you lifted your gaze from the book to look at her. Jessie's eyes fell to your core before rising back up.

"I'd really like to listen to you, but, um," she swallowed inadvertently, "you might have to move."

"What's wrong?" You asked innocently once more, the expression on your face giving no hint of what you intended as you began to leisurely grind against her growing length once more.

Jessie bit back another moan and her hands came up to your waist now. "You know what you're doing," Jessie said, a slight edge in her voice.

"Oh? Well, thank you," you said as you set down the book once more and gave a flirty shrug of your shoulders. Jessie exhaled audibly as she fought an eye roll.

"Babe. I'm trying to be good, here," Jessie went on, her response stilted as she was distracted by the way you rose and lowered against her.

"No need," you told her simply, not letting up.

Jessie blew out a breath, digging her head back into the pillow and looking up as she struggled to focus on anything other than the way her length was straining up against the fabric of her boxers and how a pulse would jump through her every time you brushed against the head of her cock.

"I take it this means you're feeling better?" She grunted out as she met your gaze again, doing her best to ignore the way your whole body sensually moved as you teased her.

"At this moment in time? Yes," you smirked.

"What brought this on?" Jessie inquired further. You cocked your head to the side in mock contemplation before you responded.

"As I was getting ready, I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have you. You're sweet, thoughtful, intelligent, funny," you paused, "and then I came in here and was reminded of how incredibly hot you are, too." You leaned in, capturing her lips between your teeth and tugging before kissing her. "Besides, I haven't had any action or relief."

Jessie shoulders slumped as she recalled you teasing her about her extracurriculars in the shower. Another blush formed on her face.

"The doctor said we're allowed to have intercourse throughout the pregnancy. Or as I call it, dirty, hungry, needy, rabid fucking."

You really were worked up.

"Hey, stud?" You asked, a teasing lilt in your voice as you pulled Jessie's earlobe between your teeth and gave it a teasing lick. "She was pretty impressed with how quickly you knocked me up."

Jessie's eyes rolled into the back of her head, made worse by how you gave a particularly needy roll of your hips against her now rock hard cock. She was already aching and desperate for release.

"Guess it's a good thing we always used protection before," you whispered. "Who knows - you might've put a baby in me that second date." Jessie groaned. "God, this would be our fourth or fifth by now."

"Oh shit," Jessie said, her voice both warning and pleading. She grabbed your waist and rolled you both so she was on top. She held herself up and off of you as she looked down at you with a bemused look. "I'm gonna blow if you don't stop. Let me take care of you first."

You looked up at her with a very self-satisfied look and Jessie narrowed her eyes playfully at you.

"Yeah, you fucking know exactly what you're doing." She huffed before stealing a quick kiss. "You love it."

"Love making you blow your load without me ever really touching you? Yeah," you replied nonchalantly with a mischievous quirk of your shoulders.

Jessie exhaled and let her head fall before smiling and lifting it once more. She gave it a shake.

"I don't think I could love you more," she said with an amused laugh and began shifting down the bed.

She lifted your shirt and very gently kneaded your breasts, being mindful of how sensitive they've been. She kept it short, not wanting to push you, but leaned down and took one of your nipples into her mouth, sucking lightly and flicking her tongue across it. She grinned as your back arched off the bed.

Jessie continued to kiss her way down your body. Her hands grasped your waist and she planted extra soft and tender kisses on your still-flat stomach.

"I can't wait until you start to show," Jessie nearly groaned.

Jessie had to keep herself in check. The image of you in her head - you walking around the apartment, one hand on your back and the other rubbing your belly that was so full and heavy with her baby - had her throbbing. She would've never anticipated these urges, but you being pregnant with her baby not only made her love you impossibly more, but it ignited some primal part of her DNA. Thankfully, you didn't seem to mind.

She blushed at how she found herself absently grinding her still-restrained hard-on against the mattress.

"Mm," you moaned, oblivious to Jessie's pining, your legs fidgeting in arousal as you shifted beneath her.

Jessie stayed on task. She shuffled further down, hooking her fingers into your panties and inching them down your legs. She pulsed as a string of cum stretched from your dripping pussy to your underwear as she removed them.

You bent your knees and planted your feet by Jessie's shoulders as she began to kiss her way down the inside of your thighs. She loved the way you gripped the sheets in anticipation.

Jessie teased you, making her tongue firm as she traced up and down between your lips, before softening and giving a faint lick across your sensitive clit, relishing how you jerked in response. She dipped her tongue inside of you, making several passes to scoop up the arousal she found there. She swallowed.

"I swear you taste even better somehow," she said, mesmerized.

A small whimper worked its way up your throat followed by her name tumbling out of your mouth. That was all the encouragement Jessie needed. She wrapped her arms under and around your thighs, tugging you down the bed and tight against her face as she buried herself in your pussy like there was nothing in this world she wanted more.

Jessie's face rocked up and down and side to side as she devoutly looked after you. Your moans of pleasure were like music to her ears.

It wasn't long before you gripped Jessie's forearm, nails digging in and you panted, "Fuck. Jessie, I'm gonna cum."

Soon, you were convulsing, your hips jerking off of the bed and into Jessie's face while you gasped high in your throat. While she relented to some degree, letting you unwind slightly, eventually slowly lapping at your entrance to drink up your juices, Jessie's mouth didn't leave you.

You were just starting to relax when her slow, languid licks started to pick up again. Low moans started to fill the room once more as your hand came to Jessie's head, playing softly with her hair.

"Oh shit, Jess," you whimpered as you began to subtly grind into her once more.

She turned her attention again to your clit and even with your thighs flexed around her head, she could hear the way your breath hitched as she tended to you.

She opened her eyes as she felt your legs start to quiver. By now, your fingers were digging into her crown, sure signs that you were nearing the brink for a second time.

You gripped Jessie's hair and gave a sharp tug. The force was enough that it jerked her head forward. Alarm went through her momentarily, worried she'd done something wrong when you spoke urgently.

"I need you up here. I need you inside of me," you begged, words clipped as you struggled to speak. They weren't even out of your mouth as you grabbed her wrist and tugged again.

Jessie was all too willing. She was climbing up your body before her mind even fully registered it. Her gaze was fixed on yours as she positioned herself between your legs, so caught up in the moment she only now remembered she still had her boxers on. She went to move back to remove them, but you grabbed her by the waist pulling her in again.

"No, I need you now," you told her desperately as you pulled her into a kiss. She moaned heavily into it, a second later reaching down to open her boxers to release her painfully erect cock. She broke your kiss momentarily as a small grunt caught in her throat when her fingers met the wet fabric of the front of her boxers, damp with precum.

She kissed you hard again as she reached in and pulled out her cock. In her frenzy, she uncharacteristically blindly poked around, fumbling a couple of times before positioning herself appropriately and slipping inside with greater force than intended. She apprehensively held herself still inside of you, relaxing as soon as she heard your wanting moan. Your hands were immediately on her ass, gripping hard and urging her to move.

Jessie began pumping into you with urgency. The part of her brain that was working determinedly to delay her orgasm was losing resolve quickly as her senses were overwhelmed with you.

She grunted, pulling back from your kiss to look down at you as she continued to make love to you. Your lips were parted and your cheeks were flushed as you held her gaze. Most notably though, your eyes were dark with lust and you ran your fingers through her hair, caressing her.

"This is the exact position I was in when you put this baby into me."

A stuttering groan fell from Jessie's lips and she threw her head back, eyes fixing on the ceiling. She panted above you, nearly wincing as she tried to hold off, but her impending climax became undeniable.

She lowered herself onto you, her ragged breath in your ear as she pumped into you. A desperate whimper escaped her as she started to speak. "You know what this means. You're truly mine now. And I belong to you. We're connected forever."

Whether it was her actions or words that did it, your blissful cry was suddenly in her ear and you gripped her length so tightly she immediately came with a small yell, her cum pouring into you with strong, jetting pulses. She gasped several times as her climax washed over her.

She collapsed on top of you as the tension began to drain from her body. You were both so spent and exhausted that neither of you spoke as you stayed in your embrace. Your fingers tiredly weaved through her hair, absently caressing, until sometime later your hand stilled and your breathing evened. She peeked one eye open - you were asleep. The last thing Jessie was aware of was the soothing warmth of your body as she fell asleep inside of you.

[kimberly-spirits13]

Growing Up in the Justice League HC

Purely self indulgence cause I've been on this and idk why so bear with me here

I can just easily romanticize growing up in the Justice League too easily and it would be a problem

you're brought in at as a baby to be trained by Diana

Apollo brings you to her and tells her that you are an ancient being that regenerates as a new person when you die and this is the form that you have taken. As you get older, you will remember the skills and memories of your past lives but you will have to be raised with someone who can handle you

Diana just loves babies so she had no problem with that

I'd say the league has been established for some time during this point and everyone knows each other's identities in the core group

You grew up in Paris and New York being raised as a mama's child

Bruce is the closest you get to a dad and he does his best

SPOILS YOU ROTTEN

all the Barbies and Legos and whatever toys you'd want as a child

They know that you've been trained as an assassin, wizard, queen, knight, sorceress, scientist, all of these other things that can be traumatic so they just want you to have a great, decent childhood

when you start remember things they begin training you to be a hero

It's like PE and recess all in one since they're really just trying to figure out what you can do

Clark treats you like a fragile piece of glass up until you're a teen cause teenagers confuse him and he just cannot not see you as an innocent beep boppin child sometimes

Barry keeps up with the culture and knows all the songs from your favorite childhood movies and tv shows that you grew up watching on the massive computer in the watch tower when you were up there

will dance to any Barbie song since he knows them all by heart

Hal makes fun of you two but secretly enjoys the movies and is very emotionally invested in Princess and the Pauper and Diamond Castle

Diana and Bruce make sure that you have a great education and training

They are the mature parents of the group and want to make sure you're a functioning member of society

you've got a bag full of grandparents in the Kents, Allans, Princes, Alfred and they all love you to death

Alfred teaches you to make the best tea and gardening, Ma Kent teaches you to quilt and make bread, Pa Kent teaches you how to drive a tractor and farm, Hippolyta teaches you about the Greek gods and ancient cultures and how to ride horses, the Allans would have loads of board games to play and love having you over

Once Young Justice or Teen Titans comes around you don't join since you're officially a Justice League member and get along better with the adults since you were raised by them

That doesn't mean that you don't like or hang out with the kids, it's just that you have better inside jokes with Hal and Barry

When Superboy comes around and the League disappears, you were the only one not taken by the portal since you were helping out some civilians

You knew that Clark wasn't dead and you knew the League was somewhere

What kept you afloat was humor and Kon attached to that since he just needed someone that wasn't insane in his life

you probably won't develop romantic feelings for each other but it's more of a camaraderie since you were both raised in a really unorthodox way

when the league finally comes back, you say it's the happiest day of your life and rant to them that you were the only one who knew they weren't gone but no one understood it

Hal and Barry are known for having a thing for chicken tenders and make sure to instill an addiction in you for chicken tenders

Arthur (Aquaman) really really really likes them too but he doesn't realize it until he comes to the League

Clark would be the one to take you out for ice cream randomly or if you're having a bad day

the mother hen therapist type

You're America's favorite Justice Leaguer and often go viral for in uniform interactions with the League

Dancing with Flash at a Presidential ceremony because the music is too beep boopin good and you can't help but bop around a little bit

Media also loves you as a civilian and it's been suspected that you are the love child between Diana and Bruce since I mean- that would make the most sense

it's a running joke in the league

[skaldish]

Alright folks. Here it is, my theory of what Ragnarok actually represents. It is very messy and I'm not sure I'm going to be able to actually convey my understanding clearly like I try with most things, because genuinely this is shit I would write a doctorate-level thesis on.

But we're going to try anyway.

So. After doing a lot to try to replicate animistic thinking, as well as taking a VERY deep read of the Norse myths, my theory is that Ragnarok is specifically allegory for societal collapse—the "end of the world" imagery and such is meant to convey what this feels like.

Recall what Odin says in Grimnismal. It goes something like this, since I can't be arsed to find the exact quote:

Huginn and Muninn fly over the world every day; while I fear Huginn ("thought") may not return, I fear Muninn's ("memory's") absence most.

When a society collapses, so does it's memory. It loses its technology, its methodologies, its paradigms, and everything it has learned about the world up to that point. Gone. Entire chapters of history erased.

What causes societal collapse is not always a conquering force, but is oftentimes the result of circumstances that a society orchestrates for itself. Think Rome.

People who have gone through societal collapse will probably develop an invested interest in figuring out how to prevent it entirely, so they don't have to start society all over again.

It's one thing to preserve the memory of "things collapsed and here's why" using a story. But it's another thing to do what apparently the Norse people did, which is cultivate a methodology for cognitively hardening their own society against collapse, using stories as a way to do it.

Like...I'm not kidding when I say they legitimately knew how the human mind works, and then built an entire system of stories and narratives that intentionally support the mind's freedom, cultivation, and agency. I can only convey a fraction of how this works in this post because the rest requires a deep-dive into behavioral psychology and neurological development.

All the tales leading to Ragnarok demonstrate various instances where the gods choose to follow their own agendas at the expense of the real people and forces in the world. All of these little things contribute to the magnitude of the event that is Ragnarok.

The tales represent these transgressions using allegories rather than literal events. This is because these stories were designed for children, who don't process information through a prefrontal cortex like we do as adults. They don't have them yet. But this gives kids an intuitive understanding for how circumstances of collapse feel, so they can recognize them in all their forms.

Loki is an allegory for the mischief we feel as children, and for the behaviors we demonstrate before we get to the age where we start valuing cooperation. In the myths, every time Loki causes mischief in ways that creates problems, the gods get mad at him and threaten Loki's life until he fixes his mess. Loki eventually becomes vindictive, kills Baldr in a jealous fit, and then is punished by being bound and buried beneath the ground, only to fight against the gods in Ragnarok.

The surface-level takeaway is a lesson in parenting: If we punish kids for their mischief, they're going to become vindictive adults, and these adults are going to have it out for the rest of society because they've been disenfranchised.

But it doesn't just end here. Consider how we punish ourselves for our own sense of mischief, beating ourselves up for having "problematic" thoughts and trying to bind and bury those thoughts in the depths of our mind.

These thoughts come from a place our mind known as the limbic system, which is focused on avoiding pain and seeking pleasure, and—most importantly—does not understand the world or make decisions using logic and reason, but in terms of what feels enjoyable and what doesn't.

We tend to call this system our inner child.

When we punish our inner child, that child starts doing exactly what Loki does and resorts to malicious and petty tricks. We can hold this behavior at bay until something causes us to "snap" (like Jörmungandr's tail does) and out comes the malice of the disenfranchised inner child, which creates a terrible cascade of social consequences for us.

Now, if we were to listen to these stories as kids, we would naturally be very upset whenever Loki was threatened of punished, because we think out of the limbic system at that age and Loki is meant to represent us—specifically, the state of being a kid. We would see what comes to pass, with Loki being imprisoned and fighting the gods against Ragnarok, and it would become clear to us that there's consequences for punishing mischief AND also causing too much of it.

Now I don't know about you, but I was very motivated by a sense of justice as a kid. Hearing Loki's arc would have inspired me to learn how to be friends with my sense of mischief while also learning to use it in ways that were cooperative and social, because this would have been how I could right the wrong I felt was done to Loki. It would also mean my own limbic system will not fight against me in the future, but be a modality of thought I can always access. (This is the beauty of the way the Norse myths are crafted; they are designed to instill knowledge of the world using mechanisms that reinforce one's own sense of agency and competency, so rather than being told the moral of this tale, it sets me up to run right into the conclusion it wants me to draw, but in a way that makes me feel smart and therefore inspires me to value it.)

The binding of Fenrir serves a similar allegory. When we become explosively angry in the way that Fenrir represents, it consumes our wisemind the same way Fenrir consumes Odin during Ragnarok. But this only happens if we bind Fenrir/our anger. By demonizing this nature of ours simply for existing, it will not only refuse to listen to us, but also turn against us. Remember that Fenrir was willing to socialize and cooperate with the gods before his betrayal.

(Honestly, I believe this is why ulfheiðnar existed the way they did. Even though the animalistic rage of ulfheiðnar was too terrible for domestic society, it was not demonized, but instead given a social function. People would learn to understand and partner with their own sense of rage, and I'm guessing this is also how they were able to keep their sense of reason and priorities straight even while going berserk from psychoactives.)

These two examples serve to illustrate how societal collapse stems from binding or punishing our own natures. But also fearing our own nature as mortals factors into it.

For example, Naglfar. This is a ship constructed of dead people's fingernails, and its completion is part of what signals the beginning of Ragnarok. But as the story goes, we can delay Naglfar's construction by trimming the nails of the dead before we bury them.

Naglfar represents "neglect for the dead," and this is significant because the act of no longer viewing the dead as people is sort of like the canary in the coal mine for no longer view each other as people...and no longer seeing people as people is what defines Ragnarok.

A society is at peace when its people have no fear of death, and having no fear of death comes only by incorporating death as a normal and familiar part of life, just like we do with birth. Our relationship with death is a litmus test for our relationship with our own humanity—if we fear the dead and cannot see them as human beings, then we are always going to fear a part of our own humanity, and be at war with it. The simple act of keeping the nails of the dead well-groomed because it stalls Naglfar's construction was a way to remind people why such a simple act was profoundly important.

And these are just the things that I can think of off the top of my head that are the most obvious examples. There are—and I shit you not—multitudes of these things laced within the Norse myths.

(I haven't even gotten to the part about how the Norse creation myth uses what the womb feels like to characterize it. Telling this story to very little children helps them establish a sense of familiarity, belonging, and secure attachment with the entire world from the get-go. If they learn the world is everything they've already experienced, then their bodies will never be afraid of it, because nothing about it will feel unknown or unknowable. Like, how fucking dope can you get.)

So here's where we get to the really dense irony of all this: Why we don't pick up on all these nuances as Westerners and have so far missed this entirely.

It is for two reasons.

The first is because our society values the things that the Norse people identified as contributing to societal collapse—namely, the act of conquering/competing against other forces and conquering/competing against our own natures. The transgressions of the Aesir are not things we register as problematic because to us they're normal.

The second is that we don't think animistically. The way we are taught to convey, interpret, and transmit information is designed PURELY by and for the prefrontal cortex, with neglect to everything else (if you ever wonder why Americans look weird in how we behave, this is why). But because we only prioritize communicating this way, we're missing out on all the context added within the Norse myths. These myths function the same way Old Norse kennings did, in that they are designed to speak to ALL areas of the brain at once and in tandem, but if we only engage with it using one part of the brain, we're only going to get a small piece of the picture and the rest is going to look weird.

(Little experiment for you: Try to logic something out in your mind or think through a complex problem without using words or sentences to do it. Use any other kind of thought-process besides language. I promise you that not only is this possible, but it yields a completely different kind of experience and conclusion than you might otherwise reach.)

Honestly, I don't even think Snorri himself fully understood what he was looking at when he was recording the Norse myths. I think he was just writing them down according to how they were told, word-for-word. But his cluelessness is our good fortune now, because he not only preserved the cultural stories, but also what I consider an entire cognitive technology.

And every time I look at it, I can't help but think about the generations of people who sat around the fire in the dead of winter, weaving, crafting, and figuring out better ways to fortify their society, raise kids so they became fine and truly fearless people, and conserve information. This is, as far as I'm concerned, real magic.

They knew some shit.