cw/tw : neglect turned obsession, slight victim blaming?, run away, tim has a heart monitor, stalking
1485 words
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
prepossession :
a belief or impression formed before actually experiencing something.
a particular liking to something you dont affiliate yourself with, yet. a fixation on something you dont even understand fully and a longing thought he never seems to shake but neither does he let himself digest.
a prepossession of who you are molded into his brain. someone whos always been shy and quiet, unneeding of anyone or anything else, even before you met the bat. someone who after their brother died became a hermit, completely hiding themself away wether from grief or just preference, he didnt particularly care.
someone his family has all but forgot about not only because of your nature but because you just werent a robin. someone who the family doesnt need and never has. youre frivolous to the house, what he believes when he lets himself only glance.
hed always been too obsessed with other things, family, friends, crime, school, all grabbing for his attention. all more interesting than a lingering thought in the back of his mind he never seems to catch, hopeless to scratch.
an idea hed love to look into one day. a day he knows probably will never come simply due to the nature of his life. if he had the choice, a eternity of knowledge, youd be at the top of the list he looks into but theres no eternity and theres no reason to. you just have never been important enough. never looking, never knowing, never thinking truly about you.
strangely though, a fixation is easiest to adapt, to learn, to digest if its in limited supply, for a limited time. he never thought there would be a limit to you. no youve been the same for so many years, why would you change now? of all times? when hes finally calming his obsessive tendencies down? when hes becoming his own person? why now?
it happened faster than he could ever anticipate and it didnt take much to reach the conclusion. you were gone, fled, flown the nest.
you had never seemed your brightest returning through those heavy mahogany doors, the few times you did leave, on the other hand you were always buzzing. bag tossed over your shoulder, red cheeked and heels hot, anxious but excited.
that night though, the last night youd been caught on the cctv entering or leaving the premises, you werent just buzzing, you were shaking. hauling your load down to the taxi pulled up to the manor, arms packed full just enough you had to shift a box to your hip to open doors.
itd been two months since that recording.
he didnt really know why he was suddenly interested. he wasnt even quite sure what made him realize you were gone. he assumed your absence simply made the desolate manor a little more empty. but you didnt really fill up much space, no one really spoke to you unless it was necessary and you were good at making it curt. did anyone even think of you as an actual member of the home? you just werent apart of the family.
he isnt really sure why you missing affects anything. he doesnt even like you, youre just a civilian bruce picked up because you needed a home and dick begged for a sibling. there wasnt anything intresting about you more than that you had been affected by jasons death. but he couldnt help but find himself curious...
why had b and dick forgotten about you? why had alfred and barbra gone along with it? why hadnt he grown curious about you like he had to every other aspect of bruce and dicks lives? why hadnt anyone out of all the proactive individuals that reside in the family not gotten curious about you? it was weird, strange in a way that left an ashy taste on his tongue. you were apart of the family. it felt like a weighted ball on his tongue. why aren't you anymore?
it just isnt like bruce and it isnt like dick and it isnt like barbra or alfred and it isnt like tim. why had they forgotten about you?
tims brain wouldnt shut up, no your name played over and over even as he tried to drown it out with music and podcasts and live streams and calls but none of it really helped. what did help is your name pulling up a few articles when he searched it.
a handful of news headlines hollowly echoing your name back at him, reporting of the newly adopted wards, you and jason and then both of you starting middleschool and of jasons death and asking what happened to you too. some assuming bruce killed you for some conspiracy, some saying bruce was getting over protective of his kids now, and none of them were right.
leaving him to just wonder why they werent? why hadnt bruce doubled down like he swore he would? why did they all let you hide and rot?
it made him so sick that his hands jumped back to the mouse and board, a few blogs asking what happened to you, some threads curious of the wayne history. none knowing what happened to you and worse nothing about you. it was like you never really existed at all. like you were just a myth, nothing more than the loch ness monster or the sasquatch.
its frustrating! he doesnt know why he suddenly cares. you just got out, your probably happier enjoying being alone and free and not couped up in your stuffy bedroom. his lifes better without you too, so why is his throat tight? why does he feel nauseous?
at least now at 2 in the morning he doesnt have to adjust the thermostat for the 12th time and theres not as much creaking of the old floorboards at 4 am but also at the end of the night no one turns the grand chandelier off because the buzzing disrupts their sleep before he eventually gets restless enough to do it and the birds damian loves watching dont seem to be around as much anymore because you had always fed them.
but besides that everything is normal, everyone is normal. its quiet, enjoyable as always, nothing changed. you werent anything special or important and he doesnt care about you.
but you were afflicted by something important and regretfully special, something that shouldn't have happened. bruce is overprotective, he stalks everyone! trackers, hidden mics, cameras on cameras on cameras, so much tim couldnt count if he tried! neglect wasn't in his vocabulary so why had he done it to you? what happened?
dick is the same as his father, hes constantly harassing everyone in the family anytime he can. clinging and stalking and bothering, just to get a rise out of them! and barbra, shes so attentive! shes always there for everyone, even while having so much going on. why hadnt she offered her comfort to you too? not to mention alfred, were all his grandkids hes usually more rational than this, than neglecting a kid!
this was weird. this was strange. this was terrible. hes a hero, he has to fix it right? even more hes a detective. he has to find out what had happened to ruin things between you all. grief usually brings the family together, bonding over trauma is why batman and robin first formed! why had you been ostrisizied?
hes starting to feel dizzy but he cant think about that right now. it cant be as simple as you just werent apart of the team, it cant be. even if tims superficial like that, bruce and dick and barbra arent, atleast not anymore. they understand better than anyone the importance of civilians, so why are you nothing to them? his grip on the mouse only got tighter, his heel kept bouncing faster, harder.
why have you been nothing to him? the wires clinging to his chest sway as he does and he only barely remembers to hit the button of his monitor as his heart flutters and his whole chest tightens. he should try to calm down but he cant. just what the hell happened? had you tried to get them to love you again at any point? did you purposely make them all forget about you? how could you have that doesnt make sense, you were a kid!
why had you just run? why hadnt you tried talking to them again? atleast once more? hes sure he could have started caring for you, if you just spoke to him! he wants to care about you now! he doesnt know why but he does! why did you leave? how can he get you back? so he can understand you, analyze a key part of his family he missed for so long! no, he can get to that. this moment he needs to know, where are you now?
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
a/n : yay!!! new series is out!! this is all ive been able to think about for the past week! yippieeee!! i hope you guys like it! most of the parts are already in progress and this is gonna be longer than my previous series!
they say like they dont still have 2 chapters to work on.... gahh im just really excited!!! ill work on it once i can stomach reading my own writing again. blehhhh.....
Warnings: Yandere Behavior, past neglectful behavior, mentions of past abuse, mentions of religion.
Yandere deadbeat father who was a real work of art, once abandoned you and your momma for his side chick now is preaching about Christian values and how important family is.
Yandere deadbeat father who has apparently changed for his so called new family while leaving you in the dust like you never existed. Never once reaching out to apologize or make up for lost time oh no hed rather just ignore your existence like you aren’t their.
Yandere deadbeat father who doesn’t see you until Christmas where you were supposedly invited by his ma. And god he didn’t realize how much you’ve grown since he last say you (he did leave when you were about 9)
Yandere deadbeat father who akwardly approaches you. Not knowing what to say or do but he didn’t expect and cold nod of acknowledgment nor you practically ignoring him! (God did your mama ever teach you manners!)
Yandere deadbeat father who doesn’t attempt to interact with you after that, only hearing snippets about your life back in the city. (since when did were you interested in art? And what do you mean his baby has a girlfriend/boyfriend! Oh golly you are to young!)
Yandere deadbeat father who realizes how much he’s missed out on your life and childhood because he decided to go fuck around and drink (god he could still remember your face as he slapped your mama when she got to roudy)
Yandere deadbeat father who insists on letting you stay with him and his family for the time being until your winter break ends (he’s gonna make sure to slash your tires so you ain’t gonna go nowhere)
Yandere deadbeat father who has your guest room decorated more childlike. He wants you to feel like home after all!!
Yandere deadbeat father who insists on you spending more time with him so he could finally get to know you better and the more he learns the more he loves you.
Yandere deadbeat father who encourages his family’s more obsessive behavior towards you, he just wants them to love you as much as he does that’s all!
Yandere deadbeat father who doesn’t plan on letting you go, not again no you’ll be his baby forever!
Ps: trying to refine my writing skills so I decided to make this little Drabble with a Yandere deadbeat!
.ᐟ All that remains of BRUCE WAYNE’S daughter is everything she left behind: her belongings, her room, and a diary no one knew existed. And inside of it, she's still there, alive—in ink, in pages, and in quiet entries.
.ᐟ a/n: ty all sm for 1k+ followers! <3 :D srry if i didn't include every1 in the batfam, it was easier for me dis way. and i didnt want to mischaracterize them.
The ride home from the funeral was painfully silent save for the soft tapping of rain on the fogged up window and some light jazz playing on the radio, just loud enough so the silence doesn't drive anyone crazy or swallow everyone whole.
No one spoke. No one dared to.
Not when Bruce’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. Not when they had to stop when the traffic light turned red. And not even when the manor that seemed even gloomier than before came into view, gates already open. As if it was waiting.
Except this time, they weren't greeted by your warm open arms.
The large menacing doors of the manor opened easily. What wasn't easy was what they had to face. Damian still, foolishly half expected you to come running over to them, ready to smother him in kisses just to annoy him. But now, only the cold wind from the inside greeted them all.
Nothing was out of place. No signs of trouble, no chaos. Everything looked normal. Too exact. Too still. And that was what made it even more unbearable.
They see it in the ghosts of your everyday routine.
Your sneakers resting on the shoe rack, almost like you’ll slip them on any second to tell Bruce you're going out with your friends he never got to know because he never asked.
Your favorite mug neatly tucked in the cupboards. Almost like you’ll reach for it later because you wanted to have some hot cocoa to battle the cold weather.
Everything simply felt…paused.
Like you weren't gone, just delayed, got into traffic, running a bit late.
Maybe because some part of them still wanted to believe you’d enter the manor any moment now—coming back from school, or maybe a late night out with some friends.
And then, without uttering a single word, Damian turned to the grand staircase and made his way to the East Wing of the manor—where your room rested.
You and Damian had never been particularly close. Well, that's what he says at least whenever someone asks. But it was undeniable that the two of you were closer than either of you admitted.
Through shared blood, the same dark hair, and even the same stern resting face—even though you were, in every possible way, the complete opposite.
The closer Damian got to your door, the heavier the silence weighed down on his shoulders. His hand hovering over the doorknob before his mind betrays him for a brief moment.
You call his name, either for help or just to irritate him. You, laughing way too loudly at a joke he never found funny. And how you always leaned closer to him like you had no concept of personal space.
Although, on some nights, he’d let you rest your head on his shoulder. As long as you made sure not to tell anyone the next day.
His hand finally closed around the doorknob. The coolness of the metal is like a sharp sting against his skin when it reminds him of how cold your hand felt the last time he got to hold it.
The door eased open easily, slow and quiet—like it was trying not to disturb anything.
The curtains were hung exactly how you did them, your bed fixed in that rushed manner. Everything sat where it belonged, untouched and unchanged.
Damian stepped in, not closing the door behind him. It was already too suffocating. He hesitates, because for the first time, he had no idea what he was doing here. His feet simply brought him up here with no clear purpose.
Damian stood still in the doorway. His eyes moved around on their own.
Polaroids of you and your friends taped onto the wall, certificates and awards he never knew about on the shelves. He’d seen them countless times before without truly seeing them.
His eyes shift to your desk. He could almost picture you sitting on it, back hunched like a shrimp as you complained about your back aching.
Looking closer, he spots something laying on the desk. At first, he didn't register it as anything important. Probably just clutter, another ordinary object. And for a moment, a part of him wanted to leave it that way.
As if that meant you were still going to come back to it.
It was a notebook, small and unsuspecting enough to be overlooked, but worn down to suggest that it's been with you for a while. There wasn't anything particularly special about it, yet he couldn't get his eyes off of it.
He approached the desk, and up close that's when he realized it wasn't just some notebook. It was your diary. His expression doesn't change much, because it was just a diary.
People kept diaries all the time, it wasn't anything unusual. Still, there was still something about it he couldn't ignore.
His fingers twitched at his side as he told himself that it was irrelevant. Just words on paper. Nothing more.
And yet, Damian opened the diary.
The pages rustled beneath his hand. For a second, nothing has changed. Just words on a page waiting for someone to read them.
“Damian.”
His eyes snapped to the doorway where Dick stood, the voice stopping him mid-breath. Meanwhile Dick’s gaze instantly drops to the diary in Damian’s hands. “What's that?”
Damian doesn't answer immediately, but his grip on the diary gets noticeably tighter. His eyes don't meet Dick’s, instead fixed onto the page. “It's nothing.”
His words were final, like the decision had already been made. Dick notices the way Damian holds the diary closer to his chest, as if it was an attempt to protect you from the world for the last time.
“It doesn't look like nothing.” Dick slowly steps into the room. Damian doesn't answer, letting the silence stretch. “Damian.” He calls, softer this time. “Let me see.”
Damian didn't move right away. His grip on the diary remained strong, curled tight against the cover as he refused to let go. A pause.
Then he let his hold loosen, only slightly. Just enough for Dick to be able to read the written words. The page settled between them, and there it was. Your neat and familiar handwriting. Too familiar.
September 17
Dear Diary, today was a good day. I just wish I had someone to tell. But everyone was busy, even Alfred. It's fine. I do hope tomorrow is even better.
Neither of them spoke. The silence stretched uncomfortably until they heard faint footsteps echoing from the hallway—gradually getting louder as they got closer.
Tim appeared first, too quickly for them to even bother closing or hiding the diary. His eyes swept over the room instantly, taking everything in. The stillness. How everything in your space looked frozen in time. The tension between Dick and Damian.
Then his gaze drops to the diary.
“You found something.”
He stepped closer, eyes focused on the item Damian was holding. It didn't take long for him to realize it was a diary. Your diary. His expression tightens slightly, but he continues to approach.
And as if on cue, footsteps followed to the doorway. “What's that?” The air shifted when Jason entered, clearly not waiting for an answer.
And just like that, they found themselves gathered around your diary. All of their eyes linger on the first page, and before Damian could flip over to the next one.
“...You think she’d want this?”
Damian didn't look up, as if he couldn't be bothered to. But his hold tightens. “You're free to leave if it bothers you.”
Jason presses his lips together, clearly far from pleased. And yet he couldn't find it in himself to leave.
No one moves. Still, Damian’s fingers hesitate to move to the next page. As if he was letting the weight of your first entry sink in first before whatever came next.
Then footsteps could be heard coming from the hallway again, heavier and full of grief this time. They didn't turn, didn't have to. They knew.
Bruce stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the room. But not analytically like Tim’s, and not sharply like Jason. Just…steadily, taking everything in and remembering.
“Read it.”
Bruce didn't have to look twice to know it was your diary they discovered. He’d seen it before. A couple of years ago when he caught you scribbling on it once like a little schoolgirl that tried to hide their secret crushes from everyone. He remembered letting you be.
He found it endearing. Now though, that memory felt different. A part of him wished he asked about it, and maybe you would have shared it with him.
Damian nodded slightly as his fingers moved to turn to the next page.
September 20
Dear Diary, today was just a little more different than usual.
I had breakfast with Alfred because apparently dad already headed to work early. Anyways, Alfred’s pancakes are always delicious. He’s got to teach me the recipe some time!
He's like a grandpa to me, but he's got a whole manor to run. Still, he tries to make time for me and I try to make time for him too.
And I never really liked my dark hair, I’ve always wanted to dye it. Probably blonde. I think that’d bring out my eyes. But Alfred always tells me that my hair is like Gotham’s sky, mysterious and beautiful in its own way. So I guess I should keep it.
And when I got home dad was there surprisingly. He asked me about my day and I told him that it went nicely, though I don't think he really heard what I said.
It's okay though. He’s busy and has a whole company to run. Not to mention the nightly activities, but he doesn't know that I know. So it should be our little secret.
October 2
Dear Diary, today was normal.
It was a weekend, but I had a buttload of homework. :( And Tim was around so I figured, why not do some work together? It's like efficient family bonding.
I slipped into Tim’s room with all my stuff when he didn't respond to the first three knocks I gave. He was working on another case, no surprise there. I got into the space next to him and he said “Hey.” to me. I think that was acknowledgement.
We worked for a while in silence, not the bad kind. The usual.
I actually managed to do most of my work, so yay me!
October 14
Dear Diary, today was sorta weird…
Jason was home today. He was in the kitchen, having some tea while reading a book. That was good, I liked books. We could talk about that!
I said “Hi.” first though, before sitting across from him. But he just looked at me and nodded, and that may have been a smile on his face. I'm not too sure.
It was quiet for a while. The noise was mostly just me trying to talk about books accompanied with Jason’s grunts of acknowledgment. That's fine, at least he was listening. I mean, I hope he was. I don't know.
At some point I don't remember, I just stopped talking. He left a little after that, but I noticed that he looked tenser than before.
I don't think I said or did anything wrong, but it felt like I did.
October 29
Dear Diary, today was really nice! :D
This time, Dick was home! And I ended up hanging out with him in the living room. We decided to watch a movie together like old times and he even let me pick!
I ended up choosing one of our old favorite movies, just to reminisce. It was nice. Dick kept making jokes that made me laugh.
It feels easy being around Dick. It's been lonely ever since he moved out, and after that it's felt like he keeps me at an arms length.
Anyways, I hope we do this again sometime.
The pages stilled under Damian’s hands. The more they read the smaller the room felt, the more suffocating.
No one moved or said anything for a moment. Jason only lets out a quiet breath as the brothers share a look. They didn't know. “I thought she was okay.” Dick says under his breath, practically a whisper.
And no one responds to him, because they thought the same.
November 3
Dear Diary, today was nice.
It was just me and Damian today.
I saw him doodling something in the library alone, so I decided to keep him some company! I sat near him and before I could even mutter out a word he told me to be quiet.
…Rude. (Affectionate) I silently watched him sketch for a few minutes, and whenever I leaned to close he told me something about personal space. But he never moves away himself.
So I stayed.
I think he's gotten used to my presence, maybe even fond of it…Hopefully. And sometimes, he lets me rest my head on his shoulder. He never mentions anything about it after. So neither do I.
I think that's just our sibling thing.
November 17
Dear Diary, today could've been better honestly.
I mean, nothing really happened. I just wanted to hang out with somebody, but it was just my luck that everyone was busy. I understand though, and I tried keeping myself entertained but nothing has really stuck.
I think I just need a change of scenery. So I'm going out tonight by myself. :) #Independent
Just for a walk, I won't go too far. I know it's late, and it could be dangerous. But it's fine, I’m not helpless.
Oh—and I also made sure to give Damian a goodbye kiss on the forehead before I left even if he says he hates it. He'll probably complain about it later.
Damian's thumb hovered over the page, as if he was waiting for something. Then he turns it, again, again, and again. All blank, of course they were. What did he expect?
You never came back after that.
The city had taken you in the quietest, most ordinary way. All it took was one moment.
Warnings: mentions of negligence/abuse. Some of the things may be triggering.
Do you see what you have to fear, child? He sent you here for me to improve you. For you to become a daughter he will be proud of.
Two hundred and sixty weeks… One thousand eight hundred and twenty five days… forty three thousand eight hundred hours… That's the time you've been there. Days merged together after the first month being in the room. Father won’t come for me right? I’m tired…
Father. What a foreign word. It is not like he acted like one for you, maybe for Richard and Jason. But not you, you don't deserve it.
Dad… I don't remember his face. Bringing your hands to your eyes, your long uncut and uneven nails drew harsh lines from your under eyes until your chin. Jay… I also don't remember his face and certainly not his voice.
How dare you forget him. You can forget everything and everyone, but not him. No, never him. Your hero, your older brother.
Your thoughts came to halt after hearing the slow steps on the corridor. He is here again. Your body began to tremble, eyes already drifting from reminiscence to numbness.
I want to go home… I don’t have a home… Home is where Jayjay is…
The past few days have been intense. Damian didn't question his father anymore, in fact he decided to take matters into his own hands. He couldn't possibly demand assistance from the one that had sent you away in the first place, it was naive of him to think he could. So instead he looked for you everywhere, any sign of you sent him a loophole, it is too hard to look for clues without alerting the family, tho he was sure they already knew.
It was after taking advantage of his father's absence that he got to go through whatever he was keeping to himself.
“Serene, mental wellness camp”
The words stared back at him, mocking. The teen couldn't quite comprehend, he got it you lost Todd and it was affected by it, but how sending you further from the family could make you feel better? Tsk, it feels like father just wanted to get rid of her…
Searching for the place, Damian found the small farm in the outskirts of Gotham, bordering Metropolis. The place held almost only positive reviews, but one pattern caught his attention.
“I spent 5 months there. The staff are so considerate which made my stay really pleasant.”
“One year connecting with nature, out of Gotham's constant trouble, made my mind and heart more at ease. It won't be easy to get out of this safe haven and come back to the city, but im sure ill be going as a new person.”
“4 months…”, “ 7 months…”
The ward had a 12 month maximum of stay and yet his sister had been gone for five years. Did Bruce use his influence to guarantee a longer stay? Is his sister still there? Damian closed the laptop and soon enough found himself wandering through the manors corridor, looking for Tim.
“You!”- Speeding his footsteps to reach his brother, the older one was already sensing trouble.- “I request your help.”
“Does it involve Y/N?”- Tim asked and when the youngest nodded, he sighed.- “Then no.”
“Why Drake? Don't you know how important that is?
“Let it go, Dames. B doesn't want us to meddle.”
“Listen, just this time. I just need you to look through this camp father put her in, once we see that everything is okay, then I won't bother you anymore.”
Tim rubbed his eyelids and motioned his hand, singing for Damian to follow him. The two boys followed to the cave and in a matter of minutes, Drake was hacking into the camp security cam. The farm seemed normal, just a few people here and there, feeding some animals, others reading and yet, not a sight of their sister.
“Do you know what she looks like? I can't find her.”
Before the youngest could answer, another voice interrupted.
“Long black hair, bright eyes.”
“Fuck, Jason. Why do you always have to appear out of nowhere?!”
He didn't answer, his eyes glued to the footage, scanning and eventually knitting his brows.
“She’s not there.”- His hands came to the table, fingertips whitening with the strength of his hold.
“What do you mean, Ahki? That's where father sent her.”
Not even waiting for any explanation, Tim opened another file, this time it was a list of members of the farm. From staff to visitants, all of the names were there, except yours.
“Looking at the past five years' worth of information, it never once showed Y/N.”- Tim said, eyes still glued to the screen.- “It's like she never even set foot in this place to begin with.”
The realization made Jason's heart sink. What did Bruce do? If she had never been there, then where the hell could she be now? Did she change names? Did she move cities? Fuck, is she even alive? It is not like she had anything to live for.
“Damian, call Alfred now.”
The youngest nodded and went on his way to find the butler. Which, although he had an idea on what this was about, still descended through to the cave with a confused expression.
“Alfie, Where is she?”- The urgency in Jason's voice brought the older man even more confusion.
“What do you mean, Master Jason? Miss Y/N is at the wellness camp.”
“She isn't, Alfie. Look at this.”- Tim pointed at the files and after reading through them, Alfred's face grew pale.
With trembling hands, the older man supported himself in the wall. Was that the reason his many letters were never answered?! God, his chest felt tight. Adding to the already chaos that started to ensue, Bruce entered the cave, already noticing the heavy atmosphere. He barely had time to ask what that was about, when Todd's fist connected with his face.
“What did you do to her?”- His son's rushed words almost weren't filtered in his ears.
Her? Y/N… She is the only one who could make Jason act this way.
Being held back by his brothers, he seemed almost feral. Alfred used this time of distraction to fill his master with what's been going on. Bruce's eyes seemed ready to fall from his skull,
His daughter… His baby… Where is she?
He had no time to be spiraling into his thoughts with Jason's voice filling his eardrums again.
“Fuck, i cant count on you. Not even once, not even with her…”- His son voice came out trembling with pain.- “Why her, dad?”
Dad… he called me dad again, but how come I can be happy when he looks at me with this kind of eyes? Eyes that denounce my failure once more…
“Y’know what?! Fuck this, I’ll find her myself.”- The man stormed off the cave, heavy steps doing barely to cease his anger.- “Don’t worry babybird, I’ll find my way to you. I always did and I’ll always do.”
Taglist: currently closed due to the amount of characters 🥹
Synopsis: Batfamily x neglected Reader who is inspired by Effy Stonem and Tracy Freeland. Basically how the Batfamily would be able to handle the depressed drug addict party girl, but slowly becomes more protective.
CW: Underage graphic depictions of drugs and alcohol, Overdosing, explicit language, kissing, attempted suicide, PSYCHOLOGICAL TRAUMA, Child neglect, RAPE, Non-con (NO INCEST) sensitive topics not suitable for readers under the age of 18. Readers discretion is advised
WC- 11.6k
CLICK ME FOR NEW TAG-LIST
You learned quickly that promises were never meant to be kept.
At first, it was just on Saturdays, something to keep your mind at bay. It wasn’t a big deal, just something to take the edge off from day-to-day life; it made you feel weightlessness, whole, and normal.
You wouldn’t say you were happy before...nor were you sad. But with the drug in your system, it gave you the feeling of content. To be able to drift through life like a fish in water breathing through its gills.
You were living a different life you couldn’t have comprehended without the feeling of euphoria. You were going through a world so grey you didn’t know how you were able to live before then. Things are different now.
You no longer felt the need to pretend. To believe that one day you were gonna grow wings, a chemical reaction. To pretend that you were going to be free. That one day the heavy weight in your chest would finally release—Like confetti popping from a party popper, sudden and evaporating.
To think that you would be happy. Truly happy—Not the smiles that never quite reach your eyes, the forced laughs to convince yourself you were alive. Faking a life of normalcy that you couldn’t even begin comprehending. The cycle was beginning to become tiring. Convincing yourself that you were fine was getting old. Telling yourself that you didn’t need anyone was sickening.
Instead, you learned to accept.
To accept that your world would be muted, and dull. Full of self-hatred and self-wallowing. That you would touch things and feel nothing—cold water wouldn't feel cold, and warm hugs wouldn't feel warm.
Going through daily life without conscious, emotional engagement, like a doll. Not eating, sleeping, or taking care of yourself like normal people would. You were a shell, your body a husk for your soul to reside.
And your shell was slowly deteriorating as the days went by, and the months passed. The least you could do was adapt to it and protect yourself from vulnerability.
But the thing is, the drug acted as your shield. It was impenetrable. And without it, there wouldn’t be any more weightlessness—The feeling of being inside a dream, colorful and idealistic. You could float there for eternity.
You didn’t have to think about the feeling of heaviness that was weighing you down day by day. Watching as time tricked and moved as you tried your best to catch up, like Alice in Wonderland, but the difference between you and her is that she was able to catch up. You ended up tripping and falling on your face in the process.
With the drug, you could float endlessly without the expectations of responsibility crashing down on you like a meteor.
You wouldn’t have to pretend to be normal.
You would become normal.
It was Ironic, you were chasing after something you didn’t even know the meaning of. Something that you had never experienced before. Who are you to yearn for something so unachievable. Normalcy was in its own way Abnormal, but it isn’t like you’d know anything about it.
Growing up with a mother who ended her life taking care of you, who couldn’t bear being with you day-after-day. She felt so suffocated in your presence that she erased herself from your life completely. Stripping you of her care so suddenly it gave you whiplash.
And being shoved into your father’s care even though he had no intention of loving you as his own. So, how could you wish to obtain something you didn’t know the meaning of. Well, it doesn’t matter how much you yearn for it.
Now you have neither happiness nor unhappiness.
Everything passes.
——
The creaking of the window added an uneasy feeling as you observed life happening on the other side of the glass.
The weather today was foggy and wet with rain from yesterday’s rainfall. The days felt drowsy. The weather prevented anyone from spending the day outdoors. You were lying across Eiris’s bed in silence doing nothing of value.
You opted to stare out the window to pass time as Eiris went to the bathroom to powder her nose. Neil was home today on his rare day off from work, and Eiris didn’t want to get caught with the white powder. She was doing it more frequently than you. Somehow getting more supply as she grew insatiable.
Taking dose after dose.
You wondered what it would be like to witness the high from Eiris’s point of view. What did she feel and what did she see?
You already smoked a blunt a few minutes ago. You contemplated turning the radio or television on for background noise, but you were okay with the silence that enveloped you. Listening to the drip-drops of the rain instead.
You ignored the slow pulsing of your beating heart in your chest—satisfied. You hadn’t slept properly in ages. The calming effect from the drug coursing through your system couldn’t shake off the drowsiness that plagued your consciousness. The feel of your limbs was constantly in a state of shaking and jittering from the drug you became dependent on.
Smoking a bit of weed was a change of pace. Your nerves were still as your body had finally decided to shut down and relax on its own accord. You were feeling content now; your brain went into a serene stateat the thought.
The sleepless nights finally took a toll on you as you drifted off to sleep before you could process that your eye’s closed.
Eiris came back from the bathroom feeling rejuvenated and ready to unleash the newfound energy. She closed her room door quietly as she entered the room. When soft snores invaded her hearing.
She glanced over at you, asleep in her bed. She supposed she could sit still and entertain herself as you slept peacefully. She could tell you needed it. There were dark circles under your eyes, and constant clumsiness from your lack of awareness.
——
You can feel your phone softly vibrating under you.
Creating a tingly sensation on your skin. You rolled over, limbs falling over Eiris’s form. The sudden touch of smoothness wakes you up. You slowly come to your sense’s as you try to make out the world around you.
You lifted yourself up from your slumber with a yawn. Hand over your mouth as you arched and stretched your body, arms overhead as you let out a soft sigh. You glance over and see Eiris’s sleeping body. She must’ve fallen asleep as well when she joined the bed. She was still curled up, with a blanket covering her body.
Her arm stretched out under her as she lay her head on top of it, making a makeshift pillow.
Your phone continued to vibrate under you. Begging for your attention. You finally turned your attention to the ringing phone as you palmed at the sheets below you trying to find the device.
Eiris’s bed wasn’t large, but it still wasn’t small either. It didn’t take you longer than a second to find the bulky phone beneath the sheets. You flipped your phone open as it made a click sound.
The nonstop vibrations from before comes to a complete stop. You read the caller's ID before clicking the accept button. It was Penny phoning your line. You hadn’t spoken to the girl in what felt like ages.
You were surprised; the girl even remembered you existed. You hadn’t known her for long. And you weren’t sincere in your supposed friendship either.
The minute you held the device up to your ear, a series of rambling spilled out from the tiny device. You winced at the sudden flood of chatter on the other end and distanced the phone an inch from your ear.
Hearing just fine from a distance. Penny talked on and on. Unrelenting to her questions about your absence. You had always known the girl was a chatter box, but this was on a whole ‘nother level. Penny continued to talk on the phone as you hadn’t uttered a word yet.
You were still drowsy from the nap and with all the yelling and incomprehensible mutterings of words, you weren’t paying attention. Letting the girl yapp a waterfall of words flowing freely without pause.
“Where the hell are you?” Penny's high-pitched voice rang through your ears. “You haven’t been around in ages, I thought you were dead!!” Penny continued once more. Babbling into the phone about how many days you’ve been gone, expressing how ‘lonely’ she’s been without you.
filling you in on the ‘drama’ you’ve missed, yadda-yadda-yadda. Just the boring shit you didn’t bother listening to. You tuned the girl out as you let your mind wander off to other things plaguing your mind.
It wasn’t until Penny was begging you to come to this small get together at her house, did she catch your attention once again.
“C’mon, it’s just this small get together between close friends, my mom even agreed to pay for the food there!” You hummed in thought to yourself.... Free food. That wasn’t bad at all; it never hurts to feed your face every once in a while.
You were rarely at Wayne manor to indulge in Alfreds cooking for some time and you know Neil’s been struggling to put food on the table for a while despite the new job that was supposedly paying well,though you remembered Neil mentioning how sucky the starting pay was. Regardless, you would be sure to sneak some food while you were leaving.
“I'll go. But only if I can bring a friend—” Penny shrieks into the phone before you can finish uttering the sentence. “You made a friend?!” You hummed into the phone in confirmation. Not offering up any more unnecessary information.
Penny went silent for a moment on the other side of the line. “Is that why you’ve been gone for a while...to hang out with this new.... friend?” She asked. You could hear the jealousy in Penny's tone.
You rarely spend time with her—let alone hold a proper conversation. But somehow someone was able to work their way into your barriers that even she herself couldn’t get through?
Penny’s pause in silence told you everything you need to know; it wasn’t exactly hard reading through her. Even with a phone separating you from view. The tone in voice combined with the choice of her wording said it all.
You rolled your eyes at the thought, how annoying. “Fine, you can invite whomever you want, just be there tomorrow. "Penny said reeking of attitude.
Jeez, why did she want you to come so bad if she was so snappy at the thought of you befriending someone else. You didn’t understand how that worked. Let alone know how friendships worked, period.
Was it normal to get territorial about who your ‘friend’ chose to hang out with? What exactly was she getting out of you attending her house party. You scoffed into the phone. Letting the annoyance you felt be known.
You hung up the phone, your device slammed shut with a loud click. You didn’t need anything else from the girl anyway. You already knew her address and the date. Who cares about what time you actually show up. You just wanted the liquor and the food and maybe chill for a little while.
It’s been stuffy in the house all day and the rainy weather that started to come in from spring was starting to take a toll on your psyche. The dreary weather reminds you of yourself.
It wouldn’t hurt to get some much-needed air and take a breather while you're at it.
It wasn’t like you and Eiris had anything better to do planned.
You reached over and put your phone down on the makeshift coffee table. It was better than sitting it down on the bed and losing it once again when placed out of sight. It was the most aggravating downside of the phone. It was so small that it could easily get lost if you weren’t careful where you placed it.
As you were fumbling with the tv you failed to notice the shift in breathing and the shift of movement in the bed. Eiris’s eyes twitched open as she took in the sight of you.
“Who was that on the phone?” Eiris questioned sleepily but aware. You were shocked to find the girl up and beside you. Not knowing how long she’s been up.
“It's my friend from school, she invited me to her house party, it’s tomorrow we should go. There’re free food and drinks to go around.” Eiris hummed softly in thought contemplating it. “We should definitely go; it’d be good to get out and live a little from the gloomy weather that’s been going rampant lately.” Eiris added.
After the decision, you and Eiris smiled to yourselves before bothering Neil about taking both of you. He agreed in the end.
———
You both arrived at Pennys door, letting yourselves in because the door was already unlocked. She really wasn’t lying— It really was a small house party.
There didn’t look to be more than 10 or 13 people, there was obviously food just as penny said, but there were also drinks either penny provided for everyone or the others had brought for themselves to enjoy.
It wasn’t much happening besides the playful; chatter and banter everyone was immersed in. You could see Penny talking it up with the others as they taunted and played with each other. It seemed like you and Eiris were the outlier in the group since you were the last two that had been expected to be coming.
“Didn't know you had arrived!” Penny goes in for a hug without your permission; you didn't hug her back. Your arms are still stiff to your side. Eiris raises a brow at the scene in confusion. Penny was oblivious to it all as you and Eiris seemed to be having a conversation between glances.
The others began Greeting the both of you as walked through the house, you were introducing Eiris to everyone around the room. A few of the people you recognized were the same faces you found yourself in the car with, and a few other people you recognized from Gotham prep you had seen penny hanging around with sometimes. You and Eiris moved around more as you tried to get settled into the party Scene. Drinking cups of alcohol and stuffing your face with food.
As the night went on Everyone was pretty much wasted. There were drinking games going on and other small competitions as the drunk teens tried to do anything to size each other up. Eiris of course was a social butterfly and was able to talk and chatter to people with ease despite having ever known anyone at the small party before.
You see a familiar face from the party you attended a few months ago. Blond hair, green eyes, and a slim figure. He didn’t seem surprised to see you as he made his way over to you with a grin. Eiris was somewhere else conversing with some guy, and it gave him the opportunity to talk with you uninterrupted. “So, she really invited you. I asked her if she think you’d show up” He shared with a smile.
You raised a brow at the boy. Seriously? This is why she desperately wanted you to come then? You tsk under your breath...How stupid. She was letting him slip from her grasp so easily. It was like she was handing the boy over to you on a silver platter. You clearly had known him since middle school, but it was clear there were some changes in the boy.
Firstly, he wasn't as meek as he was before. He stood proud, almost sure of himself in the way he held himself. He wasn’t the whiny little crybaby who couldn’t fend for himself off from bullies that plagued the school. Having you protect him despite your small stature.
“Yeah, came with a friend” You muttered to yourself. You didn’t have anything else to say to the boy, and it seemed like he didn’t know what else to say either. It wasn’t like both of you had anything in common anymore anyway. The time both of you had spent apart from each other had made you practically strangers. At least back then the boy was comfortable enough to chatter about his comics as you listened but from the distance apart there was none of that.
You could hear Penny’s voice as she gathered everyone in the living room to play another game together. Everyone clearly had nothing else to do but to fall unto minor chatter, so playing a game would at least make time go by faster. You shoot the boy a small nod as you reunited with Eiris to go play the game that Penny called everyone in for. Everyone sat in a circle on the living floor. There was a decent amount of people, so some of the furniture had to be moved out the way to make room for everyone.
“Alright everyone we’re going to be playing spin the bottle.” People whistled in excitement. Waiting for penny’s next move as she grabbed an empty glass beer bottle from the counter. Someone must havedrunk the beer earlier and left it rather than putting it in the trash properly. ‘yuck’ you thought to yourself. You didn’t exactly remember how spin the bottle worked, but you listened to the rules as pennyexplained them to everyone.
“You play spin the bottle by someone spinning the bottle; when it stops, they must perform an action, we’ll be doing truth-or-dare challenges,” she added with a smirk “with the person the bottle points to.” You listenedabsentmindedly as Penny explained the rules to everyone in the circle. There were idle comments about the game. You sat beside Eiris in the circle as some random guy sat beside you. Charlie sat beside Penny as she chatted animatedly with him.
Eiris laughed to herself excitedly at the game, having some random guy’s coat around her shoulders as you watched them make eye contact with each other all night and make googly eyes at each other. It was sickening to watch the two flirt with each other cornily.
“Alright let's begin the game, I'll go first since I'm the host” Penny crawled over to the beer bottle in the middle of the circle and spin it once. You watched as the bottle went round and round. It took a minute to slow down but once it did it landed on some guy on the opposite end of her. “Truth or dare” she asked the boy. “urh dare?” He said unsure.
Eyebrows raised as he contemplated the two options “I dare you to spend the rest of the rounds in nothing but your underwear.” Penny laughed.
The guy scowled but took his shirt and pants off along with undershirts and socks. The boy sat down in his seat again. In nothing but corny underwear that had something along the lines of “Stop staring at my elephant” The party bursted into laughter as he sat there silently embarrassed about his underwear.
He Reached over to the bottle and you swore you could see a tiny hole stretched into the boxers from behind. You let out a snort at the revelation. He spun the bottle so hard it moved in blurs.
It didn’t seem like it was going to slow down anytime soon. People sat back in anticipation as they began to chatter to the people next to them on who they thought the bottle was going to land on.
You could hear a few, not so quiet whispers from the girl besides you talking about how she hoped it didn’t land on her because the guy was too ugly for her tastes.
You snorted under your breath at the confession. The bottle finally came to a stop, not only did the bottle stop, but it landed on the poor girl that sat next to him. “Truth or dare” He asked the girl beside him as she sucked in a breath.
“Truth” She replied disinterestedly.
“Is it true that you actually made out with your cousin on New Year's Eve?” It was a rumor that surrounded her throughout the school at Gotham prep and the fact that he asked such a question was bold of him.
The room went quiet as everyones chatter slowed to a halt wondering what she was going to say next. You didn’t know how it spread,but it was something everyone knew.
She scoffed under her breath, taking a shot instead of answering. That told everyone what they needed to know Ironically.
The girl spins the bottle; it goes round-and round until it eventually freezes.
It landed on Eiris...
You sneaked a glance over her form; she was sitting next to you. Eyes-glazed and mouth twisted in that small smile that she loves so much, you could tell she must’ve snorted some of the powder before the both of you made it to the party, her voice was hoarse from laughing and giggling all night.
The guy she was talking to before by the kitchen was sitting right beside her, his jacket over her. It smelled of him too, weed and some cologne that had the scent of wood oak. She perked up when the bottle landed on her.
The girl from before had a small mischievous smirk on her lips as she asked Eiris the winning question “Truth or dare?” Eiris of course rose up to the challenge as she crossed her arms over her chest. An unidentifiable glint in her eyes. “Dare, of course...” Eiris said with that tone of superiority she used so little.
The girl faked the look of thoughtfulness as she placed her hand on her chin “Hm, I dare you to kiss the person next to you” Eiris looked in thought conflicted for a moment, you had already know how this would play out—the guy would try to get handsy while Eiris’s lips locked with his, and she’ll flash him that knowing look, a silent invitation.
Or maybe he wouldn’t be good enough, and she’ll give him a warning glance instead.
But before you could think of anyone else, she turned away from him, and you felt cold hands holding your face. her soft chapped lips connected with yours; it was unlike anything you’ve experienced.
This was your first kiss. Your eyes widened just a little, a bit shocked at the revelation. Your first kiss.
Eiris’s lips on yours.
You now knew what she tasted like. They were soft and a little chapped; you could feel her lips locking with yours in control—moving in a rhythm, you moved yours to keep up with the pace, but you didn't like it, nor did you dislike it either...it was confusing. It was like your brain was on autopilot, not properly processing the tingly feeling that should have been there.
You heard stories back in middle school of how your classmates first kiss went and how magical it was. You didn’t really care back then either, but you did have an idea of what you were supposed to feel. There weren’t any sparkles, rainbows, or fluffiness. There wasn’t an air of romance like romance books either.
You still felt dull, as if nothing had changed. There was a disconnect you couldn’t figure out, nor did you want to think about it. It was nice though... at least it was with someone you trusted instead of a drunken mistake.
Eiris’s lips finally disconnected with yours; you could see the way she stared at you as her tongue swiped her bottom lip. You glanced over to the side unsure of what to think, and what to say...Eiris was still going to be Eiris regardless, besides—it wasn’t like it was real; you were sure the girl was just playing around with you like she usually does.
Eiris sends you a small wink as people whistled and cat-called at the brazen flirting. You played along and smiled back; you grabbed a cigarette from your pocket—needing to calm down your nerves. You searched for the lighter but to no avail you couldn’t find it.
“Need a light?” Eiris asked. You nodded your head as you leaned into the girl. The cigarette sitting between your lips as you waited to inhale. Eiris grabbed the lighter from her jacket pocket as she made a tiny shield with her hands. You held the cigarette firmly in your mouth as you had guided it to a still. The ember of the cigarette blazes orange; you inhale the smoke into your lungs.
You hadn’t smoked a cigarette in so long. You spent your time smoking weed now. It was less harmful and the blunts relaxed you better. Easing your mind. You and Eiris didn't have any and needed to restockthe herbs, so you just stuck to cigarettes. Not only that but ever since you had switched over a while ago, it began to taste bitter and strange to your tastebuds now.
But you did it anyway. It wasn’t about the act of smoking; it was about the feeling it gave you afterwards.
You sat there quietly as a few rounds passed, and people got more drunk. The game had been going on for a while now, Eiris had gone back to entertaining the guy she was with, but you still wondered why she had kissed you in the first place... maybe she wanted to show off to the crowd or something, who knows. You could still feel the phantom touch of her lips when they softly pressed onto yours.
You fell out of your trance as the room was suddenly tense. You didn’t know what happened in the time you were out of it but you were surely paying attention now, you observed what was happening around you; people were gathered around the kitchen counter observing the screaming match that was happening, instigating and adding commentary.
This guy had caught his girlfriend cheating on him at the party a few minutes ago having caught her while he was searching for her, Apparently, she was sucking off another guy, and he walked in on her doing it. You didn’t want to hear the specifics. Finding it gross and disgusting. Your nose scrunched up in distaste.
“You fucking bitch, I should beat the shit outta you right fucking now”
“This isn’t what it looks like, I swear Ty” she whined and pleaded.
“Well, you had his dick in your mouth—the fuck else am I supposed to think” he snarled at her with malice.
“I promise—I didn’t—hic— I didn’t mean... to, m’just drunk—didn’t mean for—Hic—this to happen, I swear Tyler”
He kept going on and on, not cracking in his resolve “I buy you shit, take you out—make sure you get whatever you need, yet you cheat on me like a bitch in heat? Like a fucking slut? Is that what you are Nikki, A slut?” Shame flashes across her features as she bit her lip, opting not to say anything in response before opening her mouth once more.
“Tyler, I swear—” Worry etched her face. Her pleads and cries are ignored by Tyler, clearly.
“Maybe she’s just tired of you, man—Needed someone else to take better care of her” The other guy said with a laugh with a knowing smirk on his face.
“The fuck did y’just say to me” You swear the guy was about to pop a vein at any minute, you were entranced by the scene in front of you. The Tyler guy was clearly way smaller, yet he was barking out insults regardless of the difference in mass. The guy she cheated on him with was clearly bulkier. He was for sure some dumb himbo gym bro. You could tell from his slurred speech and his overconfident demeanor.
This guy was going to get his shit socked for sure. This was way too much fun to miss. You sat leaning on the counter as you continued to listen to the argument more closely. You had a good view and hearing distance despite not being in the main area that the others had circled around, Anticipating a fight.
“I said—” Before the himbo could utter another word, Tyler punched him across the face. His head whipped to the other side as the pressure Tyler put into his fist was powerful. The himbo gathered the blood red spit that gathered in his mouth and spat on the floor— ‘disgusting’. He had a manic look in his eyes as he smiled wide and proudly. He looked like he was on the verge of murdering someone with the glint in his eyes. It gave you shivers.
Not long before the two were throwing punches and hits at each other as they fought it out, you didn’t know who was winning as your vision was blocked. No one bothered stopping it as they cheered and placed bets on who would be winning. You overheard a few people placing bets on Tyler because of the anger and strong hits he showed, but others also placed bets on the himbo because of the sheer difference in his stature and broad body.
You didn’t think about who would win, but you were sure interested in how it’d turn out. People were chanting for their names in slurred speech, you couldn’t make out the himbo’s name from the crowd, but it was weird sounding. There were only about thirteen of you, so things weren’t as hectic as it should’ve been for all the racket they were causing.
Before the fight could escalate further, your eyes widened in realization.
A loud gunshot rang in the air.
Tyler tried to shoot the himbo.
The small group scattered in panic.
Before you know it, you could feel Eiris pulling you from you quickly. Your nerves had fired up at full force. You flinched again, clutching onto your head with your free hand as gunshots were ringing once more. You didn’t know how many shots were fired. You could feel the panic in your body as your heart spiked in adrenaline and fear combined.
You could feel a few bodies push past both of you as Eiris led the way out of the front door into the faint rain-soaked ground. It was cold and windy as air hit your face at full force. You could see people getting into their cars and driving off. Neil was supposed to be picking you guys up at the get-together, but it seemed like Penny's house was out of commission.
You and Eiris kept running.
splashes and pitter patters on the wet covered ground. It seemed like it was raining earlier. It was completely dark outside. There was puddle after puddle, and You couldn’t believe what had happened at the party.
You and Eiris’s feet splashed and hit the ground as you both ran from Penny’s house just to get out of the proximity from the house the party took place in. You weren’t thinking about where you were running to there was just adrenaline and the voice in your head telling you to—
go-go-go.
Your head was pounding from all the alcohol you consumed, and the cigarettes being passed around. Your head was throbbing; Eiris trailed behind you as she held onto your hand with a tight grip. She clutched onto you with a force.
You didn’t know where you were going or where your legs were taking you, your hair was sticking to your neck as it grew damp from the rain, Your body was on autopilot as your brain conjured up a familiar pathway, you were hearing cars honking as they drove by not paying any attention to the distraught teen girls. The familiar mansion came into view as you crossed the street and stopped in front of it,
You could already imagine the thoughts running through Eiris’s head as you began silently climbing the small gate on the side of the Manor you were used to using to get inside the Manor instead of opening the front door like the others normally would. But you continued your way up the fence anyway.
When you dropped down from the other side, Eiris began climbing the gate as well following your lead. You helped the girl up from the other side as you held her arms on your tippy toes. Eiris dropped onto the ground clumsily.
“Where are we?” She asked with caution. She trusted you, but this was clearly one of the wealthiest mansions she’s ever seen and the fact that you had to climb the gate instead of going in like a normal person raised some alarms in her head. Were you both supposed to be here? There was too much going on, and you chose to stay silent at the question.
Walking through the Gardens you loved before so dearly but paying them no mind now as you stepped on the dripping flowers moist with rain. You carefully make your way to the part of the window you knew your room was located in.
You opened the window and climbed in. Eiris followed in after you. Curious. Once inside the room It was pitched black, you were lucky you still remembered the layout, but you were still stepping on small things that you left left around the room, you hadn’t seen in a long time and hadn’t bothered cleaning up either.
Alfred left your room as it was with no interruption of your space. You walked over to the light switch and flipped it on. The room lit up with a few flicks of light before completely turning on. Eiris observed the room around her.
There were objects laying around, and the room was small despite the large size of the mansion. There was a singular bed on the side of the wall with trinkets and the like everywhere. There were clothes strewn about and a garbage can filled with blood stained tissue.
__
You both were sitting upright in the tiny bed; legs crossed facing each other to make room for each other. Your shoes were scattered on the floor on the black rug, fading into the mess in the room. Eiris found a bottle around the room, some type of spray that can get you high. You didn’t have any powder left after absorbing it all before the party, so you were left with whatever. It had been some time since you answered all the questions Eiris had about you after finding out about your supposed family.
You were going to stay the night, after hearing the loud booming sound of the thunderstorms lingering outside the manor. There was no way you’d be able to sneak back out. It was storming so bad tonight that there was no way you’d make it back home in peace without getting sick from being soaked and wet. You had changed into some pajama wear, and so did Eiris not to get the rain splashed pants onto the bed.
This brings you to now. Both of you getting high from cleaning spray to pass the time. Giggles and laughter filled your ears as you and Eiris both kept laughing from the drug. You wanted to try something new. Your face was numb and frankly you couldn’t feel anything. You couldn’t feel your lips, your face, or your body. Nothing.
——
Eiris observed your features; her vision enveloped with your face, from the quirk of your mouth to your magnetic yet empty eyes. You held an aura of indifference most of the time but in the rare times when you were either high or wasted it would be the most, she’s ever seen you express yourself. Your lips would be taught in a straight line. Your face would remain unmoving and stoic. But there were moments when you surprised her.
The first time both of you smoked weed together at Kingsley's party months ago was the day she noticed you for the first time. She was entranced, there was so little emotion in your eyes, yet she could tell as clearly as day that you were more troubled than you let on. Yet you still sat there and held your head up high like you were untouchable, keeping the world at a distance. It was like you were there, but you weren't at the same time. Your body would be physically there moving and interacting, but once more attention was garnered to you. It was clear you were absent; you were quiet and kept to yourself.
You held this magnetizing air around you; it seemed even as quiet as you were there was this gravitational pull that couldn’t be ignored. She watched as people flocked to you and stared at you, wanting your attention but needing to stay away. You seemed unaware of it.
Eiris was also one of those people; she didn’t know what she did, but whatever it was, it kept your attention on her. You were perfect in her eyes. You were detached from life and needed to be saved, and she wanted to do the saving. To be the light you looked forward to in the dark. It was working. Eiris was sure she was what you needed. She could make it better. She was addicted to your essence
It was already decided that you belonged to her.
So she watched you as you smiled at her with a quirk to your plush lips, eyebrows creased with the manic look in your eye’s that she loved so dearly, it was the only thing that could resemble a sparkle, the only thing that showed your emotion on your sleeves served up to her on a silver platter for her to devour deliciously. She watched as you begged and pleaded with her to hit you.
The disinfectant had already gone to your brain. She watched as you sat crisscrossed looking at her with anticipation from what was to come, a dangerous glint in your eyes that only seemed to increase how crazy you looked. Rubbing your cheek with your left hand.
With glazed-over eyes, you exclaimed to her, "Hit me. I'm serious; I can't feel anything. Hit me!". You said with a giggly tone to your voice, sucking in a breath. Eiris hit you across the face, caving in to your demands; your head whipped back. Bouncing back demanding she hit you harder.
“Again, do it harder!” You said with your pearly white teeth stretched into a smile; she couldn’t shake off. Eiris felt her heart pulsing in her chest; she hit you harder than before.
“Oww” you said with that smile still etched on your face. Your words were different from your facial expression, smiling with glee. “I can’t feel anything, this is so awesome” you said it so happily, your words were slurring. You were staring into her eyes as you laughed loudly, like you couldn’t believe it. She could feel your exhilaration radiating from you.
Eiris took the spray from your side, pressing more into her mouth. It sounded like air pumping into a balloon, leaning to the side as she was disoriented it was such a rush, it wasn’t the same as the crystalline powder, but it still did its job, you both were completely out of it. A giddy feeling in her stomach.
“I hear this little- wah-wah-wah inside my head” Eiris said with a laugh. She could feel the metal of her piercing being exposed as she laughed, clutching her stomach. Before you added “That’s your brain cells popping!” You both laughed hysterically at the joke; you were leaning forward a bit, your movements sloppy. Eiris sprayed some more of the product into her mouth.
“Do it,” Eiris said leaning forward so she could get her turn “You want me to do it?” You asked in question with a smile. A loud slap sounded in the room as Eiri’s head whipped to the side; she was clutching her face. A burning sting was felt on her cheek, that she couldn’t feel. Numb.
You reached over and grabbed the can of air from Eiris’s hold as you sprayed more into your mouth. She could feel nothing; the only thing she could focus on was your face as it started to bruise nasty.
“Hit me—Harder! Punch me—” You exclaimed excitedly, waiting for the blow to land on your cheek. Eiris laughed as she leaned over punching you hard in your face. Causing you to topple over and hit your head on the small side table next to your bed, there was a loud clunk at the sound of your head contacting with the bed side table. You clutched onto your lip as blood coated your fingers. Your lip split opened from the impact of the force, making small whining noises as the pain finally crashed into you. You got back up giggling as you took more of the spray. Eiris laughed along with you—You both weren't sure what you were laughing at anymore.
Eiris grabbed the can of spray going at it some more—She looked a bit crazed herself. “Hit me really hard—really!” She said eyes wide with anticipation at what was to come. “Okay I'm gonna plunk you” you said in response. Eiris urged you as she smiled at you.
“Okay—Go!” Your fist balled up as you hit Eiris across the face. Eiris rubbed her hand on her face out of instinct. Your ring that was on your finger colliding with her cheek as well. Your featuresscrunched up in shock at the realization before you both began laughing once more.
“Oh, shit—” you said in utter shock; it really did a number on her. Her forehead and chin were marked with blood. Eiris grinned at the pain inflicted. Squealing loudly, her nose was bleeding as well;this was too much fun.
“YEAHHH” You could make out the silver of her piercing as her moth opened into a wide smile.
A loud knock on the door interrupted the flow.
Young master? Alfred said with worry as he knocked on your room door. “Master Bruce wishes to speak to you.”
“Shit” You whispered to yourself. You ushered Eiris into a corner of the room that couldn’t be seen from beyond the door as you giggled at the predicament.
“Master Bruce wishes to speak to you.” He repeated once more, worried about your lack of answer.
You climbed out the bed, looking for the small bandages you kept in your room to cover the blood. When you couldn’t find them as quickly as you wanted, you settled for the hello kitty stickers in your nightstand drawer with a full pack you hadn't touched in ages. Hoping no one would notice the scars you placed the stickers clumsily on top of it, Lopsided, as some of the blood still peaked through from the punches and slaps you, and Eiris inflicted on eachother minutes ago.
“I’ll be out in a minute!” You yelled loud enough for Alfred to hear you.
Alfred sensed that there was something wrong with you. You had never yelled like that before in a hurry. You were hiding something, especially as he heard laughter from you on the other side of the door a few minutes prior and a loud thud.
You opened the door to your room stepping out of it as Alfred waited for you to come out. Upon seeing your appearance his heart dropped to his stomach shock and worry etched on his face. He had never seen you so... sickly.
He observed you closely; you looked like a shell of your former self, so different but the same alike. Your eyes looked so different as well. The first thing that caught his eye was your eyes as they were heavily dilated, and empty looking, more from before. You had clearly lost some weight; your cheeks were sunken in, gaunt. You looked sickly looking. Like you were hanging on by a thin thread threatening to collapse at any moment.
Alfred had never seen anything like it. This was different from the battered body of the boys that came from missions' day after day from crime-fighting. You looked so battered; it was horrifying.
“Is everything alright young master? You don't look too well” Alfred observed you closer. There was blood on the side of your mouth and clearly on your forehead in your effort to hide the bruises. It was obviously way too fresh to be old. Still red with blood. Your lips were split. It looked like you had gotten into a fight. Alfred’s brows creased in thought. What could have happened in such a short amount of time? Did you get into a fight at school?
Alfred was lost in thought as he personally walked you to Bruce's office with you trailing behind him silently. Neither of you stringing up a conversation, Alfred didn’t know what to say without scaring you off again with worries and inquiries, and you were just...being yourself.
Alfred stepped aside as you were right in front of Bruce's door to his office. You stood there for a moment as Alfred ushered you into the room. The strong scent of bourbon infiltrated your nose. You sat down on the opposite side of his desk. You didn’t know why you were here—and you couldn’t think of any reasons either as your brain turned to mush when you tried to focus on your thoughts. You couldn’t think as clearly as you used to.
Your mind was blank as you glanced down at your fingernails, they seemed to grab more of your attention rather than the man in front of you. When he finally spoke, a chill went down your spine.
“Where were you these few months” His voice is firm and commanding. The usual tiredness gone from his eyes as it was replaced with calculation and awareness.
“What?” You muttered. Your voice wavered. Shock and fear evident in your voice as your heart dropped to your ass. Your limbs went cold. How did he find out... did Alfred say something out of worry? Did someone see you sneaking in or out—You didn’t think anyone would have cared that much, let alone raise Bruce’s attention.
He silently slapped an envelope on the table “Four months, not a single day excused.” You glanced at the envelope and suddenly all the thoughts had finally rushed through your brain. Shit, your questions were answered. The school must’ve finally put their hand down about your absences.
You hadn’t realized that 4 months had passed since you last stepped onto the school grounds.
“I—” You couldn’t get it out. The words were jumbled in your throat, and suddenly that tight telephone cord that you know all too well raps around your throat and tightens. You stared down as you couldn’t speak.
Bruce paused as he finally observes you, glancing up from his paperwork he’s been meaning to complete. His eyes widen completely. There was you sitting there with childish stickers on your face as red blood stained your lip, your eyes looked unfocused as they flickered and darted across the room, your pupils were dilated heavily, and you were picking at your nail beds that had red marks of dried blood from continuously picking at them and biting them down.
“Again. Where have you been.” He said sternly with finality. You couldn’t tell him about Eiris, about your little ‘adventures’ about the partys, the drinking, and the sneaking. You couldn’t tell him anything.
“There’s bruises on your face.” He acknowledges even though you forgot about them.
Silence envelops the room. You remember the first time; you’ve been here. He had called you into his office because Dick alerted him that you weren’t in school. When was this going to end. Why did he choose to worry about you properly now that someone’s brought it to his attention. Again. He never seemed to seek you out. Never found out on his own accord.
You scoffed under your breath at the faux concern the man was showing.
That seemed to catch his attention. He ignores it.
“I have decided to send you to school in Europe, it’ll fix your.... behavior problems.” Your already dilated pupils go wide. He said it so nonchalantly—like he hadn’t given you the equivalent of the death penalty. Your nails scratched your arms, digging into you. Panic filled your core; there was resentment building the longer the silence continued.
“No—I—No, you can’t—You can’t send me there.” Your words were jumbled as you tried to make sense of anything. Your head was pounding. Then he added more fuel to the fire. “It’s my responsibility as your father to do what’s best for you—You’ve been to the best school in Gotham—It seems you need a change of pace—”
This man. This man claims to be your father now? This was certainly a new development in your relationship. He, who had never welcomed you properly into the Manor. He, who had never given you a sincere happy birthday. He, who had never spoken a word to you. Claims to be your father. Before you could process it, giggles escaped your lips, then full-blown cackling laughter while tears welled up in your eyes; you blinked them away quickly.
He was speechless.
“I have no father.” You finally spoke with spite. Snapping the thin thread that clung to you relentlessly. The anger finally spilled out, and you were just talking. Saying anything. You were sick and tired of the same treatment day-after-day living in this household. This man had the audacity to claim the father role as he planned to send you away.
You alone had no body, no senses, no feelings. You were in hell looking up at heaven. And you began to hate them. Hate their softness. Their viscera. feelings. And their flexibility. Their ability to wonder, and to wander, without the weight of the world holding them down. Their tendency to hope...
God had abandoned you, no longer one of his beloved children. This was far too much for you to bare. For you to take.
You gave one final glance at his expression and decided this conversation was over. Drowning out your surroundings as you left the office. Closing the door behind you with a soft slam. You were walking through the halls of the manor.
Your limbs were shaking; you were seething with anger. You strut back to your room, opening the door and slaming it behind you with a thud. It gained the attention of Eiris, who flinched at the impact of your force—startled from the noise.
You could hear Eiris asking about something with confusion lacing her tone. You didn’t know what the girl said, your ears were too loud, and it felt like your vision was impaired. The only thing you could think about was the argument with your father and how he threatened to send you to boarding school.
Your hands felt clammy and you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You could feel a sharp pain in your body. It wasn’t like how it usually was. This was much deeper. Your movements were shaky and jerky
You could feel your throat closing; your heart is pumping rapidly. You could feel all the breathing, your veins, everything plaguing your system. Everything felt out of tune. You should have never been here,
You hated this house.
You hated everything and everyone; this was far too much pain for you to carry every day. You could feel yourself breaking down. On the verge of a panic attack as everything finally sunk in. Tears were welling in your eyes that refused to drop.
Your feet bump into the jacket on the ground that Eiris had on earlier; you paid no mind to it but as you looked down there was a bag of white powder. Did she know he left it there? If she did, you were sure it wouldn’t have been as full as it was. You discreetly pick the bag up not to alert Eiris. But she seemed so out of it you’d doubt if she was able to see straight.
You clench your fists hard around the substance as you headed to the bathroom that was next door to your room. You didn’t bother locking the door, not in the state of mind to worry about the details; you just wanted everything to be alright once more.
To bring back that weightlessness that you desperately craved. You needed it. It was so tiring, you were so tired. You just hoped that you'dget over it like you normally would, but you already knew that this had pierced too deep into your heart for you to easily let it go.
You dump the powder onto the bathroom sink, and for the first time you accidentally catch your form in the mirror. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, your reflection staring back at you. Your eyes were puffy, Deep bags under them from your lack of sleep these past few months. Your hair was a mess, lacking the usual care you’d put into it.
It was something your mother treasured, so you took great care of it. You couldn’t recognize yourself anymore, your cheeks were sunken and your eyes. It was the most horrifying thing you stared into. The eyes—They were far emptier, as black as Cole. You looked lifeless, skin dried up and lips chapped. You could acknowledge that you were lifeless in a way.
Your hands clutched onto the sink as you sloppily began to part the white powder. There was something different about it from how it usually looked, but your unfocused mind paid no attention to it. You were looking for a high. Something to calm you down and something to make you feel normal again. Whole and put together. You grabbed a spare roll from your pocket and held it to your nose,sniffing the sloppy lines of crystallized powder in.
The second it entered your nose you could feel the burn—The itch. The difference was that it lasted longer than it did. You rubbed your nose to stop the burn, but the feeling prevailed. You continued to rub your nose, pinching, and squeezing it. You felt disoriented and queasy, the next thing you know is, you can feel your limbs grow cold by the second. You looked around frantically; the only thing you could see was a blur of colors. Your focus was completely shattered, unable to see. Panic filled you as you blinked frantically. Your nose was still burning. Your throat was clamping up.
You could feel a sudden rush of heat to your brain, and the desire to close your eyes, and fall asleep. Your nose was burning, your head was throbbing, your vision was declining. You could feel your body going limp against your will. Locking up out of your control. You tried to hold onto the bathroom wall as tightly as you could; you could feel your eyes rolling back, eyes open, as your limbs finally gave up.
‘This must be what hell feels like’
Your eyes finally came to a still, as blood leaked from your nose.
You thought you had cocaine, but you snorted heroin instead. Your body falls to the ground with a large thud.
——
Eiris heard a loud thud next door.
She got up from her position on the bed, her dazed look from before now gone. She called out your name, but you said nothing. Panicked, Eiris rushed over as quickly as she could, not bothering to slip anything on her feet as she rushed to the room next door where the loud booming sound came from.
She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Like something bad had truly happened. It was eerily quiet; no sound came from the room; she called out your name once more testing the waters before deciding to burst in there in one fell swoop like she normally would with her brother. You liked your privacy and she wanted to respect it. But when no reply came from you, she took it into her own hands.
She slowly twisted the doorknob.
Her system was crushed with anxiety, she wasn’t unsure how she should feel, she felt sick. As the door opened with a click, she pushed it open. Once she did so, she was met with your limp body sprawled on the floor. Your eyes were rolled up as your mouth hung open. Blood gushing from your nose, as wet dots of blood trickled on the floor.
She screamed so loud her vocal cords bursted, her eyes widened as Fear took over. She made her way to your limp body as she shook you so hard, screaming your name as if that would get you to wake up. She lifted your body as tears slipped from her eyes.
“Please—You can't—Please don’t do this to me.... —No, you—You have to wake up—No, no, no—Wake up...” She sobbed into your shirt, grabbing onto your shoulders as she held you up. Therewere uncontrollable hiccups as she sobbed and cried, screaming your name praying that you’d snap up like nothing happened.
Her lips quivered, eyes painted wide. As she convulsed, there was a spike in her chest.
“Someone—Please...Somone please help me!!” She screamed holding your body as close to hers as she could, trying to preserve the heat in your body as your body grew colder every minute you laid unconscious. Her voice was shaky with cries as she called put for help. Dragging your limp body from the bathroom as she dragged you through the halls of the Manor from your arms. There wasn’t a twitch from your body, as your limbs jumbled, and your head bobbed around.
“Please—I need some Fucking help—” She continued screaming until her voice cracked, there were wavers in her voice as cries racked from her body. Her face was puffy in a matter of minutes; her skin grew red with anger and panic. It seemed like she dragged you all the way to the living room.
She screamed once more angrily, making her presence known through the large house as her voice echoed through the walls, alerting the people of her presence.
She came to the realization that if you didn’t make it—You’d die. And suddenly she was struck with terror
Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see figures emerging from the walls of the room.
——
Damien snapped from his bed with a jolt as the most piercing scream, he’s ever heard
Plaguing his ears, his senses were screaming for him to move as quickly as he could and he did. He didn’t know how anyone could have gotten into this house without the proper security measures, but he slowed his thoughts as his main objective was seeking out the sound.
It seemed like he wasn’t the only one that heard as he could see Tim from down the hall rushing to the common room just as he. He shot him a look for answers at what was going on, but Tims face was painted in confusion as well—Eyes crinkled at distraught and movements jittery from the lack of sleep.
This could only mean that none of his family members had a clue of what was happening either.
The boys both rush downstairs, only to make eye contact with Jason Todd, which wasn’t as surprising as he wanted to be as he always came at odd hours at the manor, sneaking into the kitchen like a house rat looking for cheese.
He could see B emerging from the shadows with his shoulders hunched, and eyes drained beyond recognition. But alert, nonetheless. Barbara, Dick, Steph and duke also appear drowsy and unknowing moving in the same direction, nonetheless, trying to figure out who could be screaming mad at the manor at this time and if it was a threat that needed to be taken out.
As they grow closer to the common room, he could hear faint cries and sobs—He didn’t like this already. A deep sigh comes from his throat. Upon entering, the first thing he could see is an unknown body kneeling over yours as she lay over you and clutching onto you tightly.
He switches his eyes to the figure lying limp, and he flinches in his step, eyes widening.
It was You.
In all your glory, red blood stained your nose as your eyes were open and unmoving. He couldn’t process what was going on—what was even happening—What’s wrong with you, and why did you look dead?
Damien stood there as his breath stopped in his throat. There was a lump there that stopped him from speaking, His hands shook for the first time, unsure of how to approach the situation.
He could see Pennyworth rushing over with a shaky breath kneeling over to check your pulse, Damien had never seen the man as shaky as he was now. The unknown girl moved out of the way as she let the old man help you, before dropping to her knees.
A sharp voice broke the silence that was currently surrounding the room.
“Explain yourself”
Bruce’s voice was so sharp it cut through the room like a trained and deadly blade. The girl shook at the authoritive tone as she shook. He glanced at his father to see that his face was quite the opposite of his tone.
The man looked borderline on the verge of breaking down. His Father—Shaking and eyes wide as he observed the scene before him. No one else would have noticed it but as long as he’s been here,he could see the changes in his father.
Bruce’s stance was stiff as his eyes laid on your unmoving ones. There was a pained look in his eyes, clearly shaken up.
“I don’t—I don’t know what—I don’t know how this could have...—How this could have happened—I heard a loud thud—And I seen,” The girl sniffed, trying not to break down, she was clearly going through it.. How close had she been to his sister, close enough that she stayed under the manors' roof unbeknownst to Bruce himself, was a mystery.
How long had this girl been around without them knowing.
“I saw her lying there—I can't—” She cried once more.
“Alfred, have you Identified the cause?”
“She—It appears to be an overdose, Master Bruce” Alfred stated. His usual tone was wavering as he took in the information he had announced.
An Overdose—Drugs. Under this roof.
He could feel his stomach weakened with sickness. How long had this been going on, how long had you been drowning out the pain. He hadn’t bothered checking on you either. Completely unaware, oblivious as he was out saving Gotham. When he couldn’t even hold a conversation with you. He had turned a blind eye. And now you were lying on the common room carpet as you looked half-dead.
“Wait a minute—That’s the girl I had seen a while ago; she was—she was at this party—I remember” Jason said in realization; all eyes turned to him. He had seen you somewhere and couldn’t make you out. He could tell in his voice that the guilt was eating up at him as well. The girl’s eyes widened. Damien shot her in question.
Before anyone could process the information and say anything, Tim had already spoken out.
“She needs an Adrenaline shot and fast—We’ve already lost time” Tims gears were turning. Already looking for a solution to the problem presented to him and he needed to act fast if they didn’t want a repeat of Jason. Making the same mistake twice wasn’t a good look.
Tim glanced over at Alfred “Alfred do you know where that might be located in the manor?” Swift and to the point.
Aldred immediately got to work; he had to have it—Had to. He rushed over to the kitchen. Searching the cabinets as he looked for the prescription and the needle needed. He was panicked and wasn’t thinking clearly, Reading and switching through the labels as he found the liquid. He grabbed the needle next to it, he walked as fast as he could to the scene in the living room.
Dick had taken over watching your pulse. You still had a chance to make it.
The atmosphere around the Manor was tense as everyone had been shaken up with nerves. They’re protective of their own but here they are. You were laid half unconscious on the floor. With your body abnormally cold and clammy. Your pupils grew smaller than what they normally were, and your skin was turning into an abnormal color.
He could feel his pulse quicken as he had truly observed your state. You looked dead. Unmoving. His throat tightened as his eyes darted to the ground. He was unable to look at you for he would have to face his incompetence regarding you. He couldn’t protect you.
He didn’t protect you.
Pennyworth came back with the shot in his hand filled to the desired amount. Thank God they had something like that lying around—But it didn’t ensure your heart would pulse once again. He was sure neither of them had any experience doing this type of thing and if they had brought you to the doctor now after all this time, you had been unconscious. You would surely die.
They had no choice but to perform the Adrenaline shot on you themselves. As trained as he was in crime and being raised as an assassination. He didn’t know the specifics with dealing with someone who’s overdosed.
Tim spoke once more. “Someone needs to take off her shirt and find the heart.” Wasting no time, Bruce had ripped your shirt off you in a hurry to find your heart. Thankfully, you had a sports bra underneath, so it still covered you while giving them easy access to stick the needle
“Shouldn’t that be exact?” Jason questioned.
“Yeah, it's got to be exact; We’re giving her a shot in the heart, so I guess it has to be fucking exact” Damien raised a brow. It was clear that Tim was stressed judging from his speech.
Jason ignored Tim’s rudeness, feigning ignorance, “Well, I don’t know where her heart is, but I think it’s right here.” He traced the area.
“Alright, what I need is a big, fat magic marker.” He told Dick sat there, thinking he was directing someone else.
“You got it?” Jason asked dick. Handheld out expectantly to feel a round, plastic marker in his hand
“What?” Dick raised a brow, unsure of what his brother was asking for.
“A magic marker!” Jason yelled
Jason’s anger rises “A felt pen, a fucking black magic marker!” He commanded. Steph scrambled to find the marker in Dicks stead, fed up with Dick’s obliviousness
“Come on, man, hurry up!” Tim ushered. Impatient.
“Alright...Alright....FUCK...!” Jason yelled with nerves.
“Okay, okay...okay...” He continued repeated to himself in an effort to calm hiself down.
Tim passed the shot over to Jason.
“Here I’ll tell you what to do.” Tim said.
“No-no-no-n-no, I ain’t giving—I ain’t giving her the shot, Dicks gonna give her the shot...” Jason can feel his nerves spike up again as he struggled to find the right words.
“No, you’re gonna giver her the shot.” Dick shot out.
“I ain’t giving her the shot!” Jason said once more.
“I’m not giving her the shot either” Dick said with finality, crossing his arms over eachother.
Jason sighed in defeat.
“Just hand the fucking thing over...” Steph handed over the magic marker as Jason traced a big red dot over the area your heart.
“Alright—Okay Tim, tell me what to do...”
“Okay, uh—You’re giving her an injection of adrenaline straight to her heart; but she’s got a breastplate, so you have to pierce through that.” Tim ecplained, motioning with his hands the task jasonwas assigned.
Tim continued “So, what you have to do is you got to bring the needle down in a stabbing motion” Tim speaks with his hands once more as he makes a stabbing motion three times.
“I have ta’—I gotta stab her three times?” He questioned unsurely, mimicking Tim’s movement.
Tim face-palmed in irritation “No, you don’t have to stab her three times! You just stab her once, but it must be hard enough to pierce through her breastplate into her heart, alright? Once you do that, you—you uhm, press down on the plunger”
“Okay, then what happens?” Jason questioned.
“I’m kind of curious about that myself....” Tim said nervously.
“This isn’t a fuckin’ joke Tim! Am I going to kill her?! Am I—” Jason utters words in his haze of guilt and worry.
Tim interrupts Jason, “No-no-no—She’s supposed to just come out of it.” Tim says.
“Alright, count to three—Ready?” He looks over at Tim in assurance; Tim gives him a silent nod in response.
“One”
He raises the needle up high, menacingly, drops of liquid dripping down onto your skin. Your skin is glistening as sweat, and the lighting makes you look a lot sicker than you were hours before.
“Two”
Everyone looks at the scene in anticipation. If they messed this up, you’d be gone.
“Three”
Jason plunged the Adrenaline shot into your heart as hard as he can. A sound reverberating through the room at the sound of a needle piercing through skin.
“ GOD ! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? YOU'RE A PINK PONY GIRL ! YOU DANCE AT THE CLUB!”
“YOU MAKE ME WANTS TO SCREAM.”
“I WISH THAT I WAS A DUMB POPSTAR SO THE WORDS WOULDN'T MATTER TO YOU.”
“LOVE IN A BOTTLE,LOVE IN A BOTTLE
Synopsis: You're tired of attempting to meet unreachable standards, of failing in vain, and of living this bleak existence. You've had enough.What's the point if you're not living your life to the fullest? It can't get worse, right?
You’re a big girl now! No more daddy’s little girl
Part one - Part two - Part three
summary: Your family had never truly seen and appreciated you. Might as well move on and live your life!
cw: A bit of emotional neglect, though none of it is intentional. Mc’s very smart and cool
pairings: platonic!batfam x neglected!gn!reader
word count: 2.1K
a/n: this is my first time posting on tumblr, kinda nervous (read: very nervous). My writing’s very rusty, and I am chronically allergic to rereading anything I ever write, so if there are mistakes, uh, I’m super sorry. Also, this is my first time writing anything DC related! So I hope you enjoy this little creation :] Much love
Bruce Wayne didn’t have time for sentimentality.
Those who truly knew him were deeply aware of this information, aware of how he would never truly be present emotionally in any sort of relationship. This included his own horde of children, who, throughout the years, had learned to live with that weighting absence.
Still, in your childhood, you attempted to cling onto the idea of a fatherly figure with an iron grip that even his coldest silences couldn’t break.
Your arrival was a change in the manor, a breeze in a dry desert, the warm sun in a frigid winter. Young, unmarred by the horrors of Gotham city, your new family felt wary to be the ones to taint your innocence. So, as one does when uncomfortable, they spent time elsewhere.
It wasn’t a collective, malevolent decision. It simply arrived like something unavoidable. They still ate with you at dinner, still asked you about your day occasionally, about school drama, or hobbies, but the conversations never went much further. Your relationship didn’t evolve into something closer to family. Instead, it stagnated at polite acquaintances that happened to be roommates and legally related. Nothing more, nothing less.
In a perhaps cynical way, you had expected not to fit in with your siblings. You arrived in a moment where Dick was elsewhere physically, Tim elsewhere mentally, and Steph often appearing and disappearing at the manor at will. Not to mention Jason, since the topic was taboo around anyone, like a ghost story, a warning.
However, childishly, you at least hoped your father – whom you shared blood with, took you in after tragedy inevitably struck as it does in this godforsaken city – would attempt to create a bond with you. You were realistic bordering pessimistic, yes, but you had naively expected him to try. Not even succeed, just put in some effort.
But that small spark of hope quickly died out when you met and began to understand the man in his essence.
The process was short; you’d recall later on. You remembered arriving at the manor, terrifyingly beautiful, haunted by years of history and secrets. It almost felt like one of those mystery slash romance books your mother would read privately in the safety of your home. And this was your home now.
You were greeted at the door by a man with clever eyes and a polite smile and bow, a relaxing accent you had only ever heard in movies introducing him to you, introducing the manor to you. The police officer – whose name you forgot over the years, who had tried cheering you up in the car – bid you farewell, and that was that. A new beginning. New family, new house, new life. Your mother was dead; you had confirmed it yourself. Nothing would ever go back to how it was. But maybe this change would be good for you.
These thoughts lasted four months.
The first person you met was one of your new brothers, Timothy (“Tim” he insisted you call him, as if he stuck around enough for you to call him anything). He was a few years older than you, and according to Alfred, a genius. To you, he kind of looked like he needed a hug and a good nap less he crashes and burn out, but you kept those thoughts to yourself – like you did most of your thoughts.
You met Dick Grayson, Golden Boy with a bright smile, eyebags, and a distracted gaze. He had things to do, a job in a different city, responsibilities as an adult. You understood, let him rush around with no hard feelings, knowing his energy meter would empty eventually. Maybe you could talk to him then. (Who wanted to talk to some random kid your adopted dad took in anyways? You probably would’ve done the same in his place).
Steph was a pleasant addition to your routine, and probably your favorite (after Alfred, of course) of the manor’s inhabitants, even If she didn’t truly live there. She hung around a lot, livening the gloomy atmosphere of the manor while providing feminine energy; something you discovered to be unfortunately rare in you new place. Nonetheless, she had this look in her eye that sometime stole your breath. A look that sometimes haunted you, as if she was searching and searching for something. After a while, she stopped coming around as much, Alfred explaining that with the age, she had new responsibilities. You felt disappointed and a bit bitter, but who were you to complain? She wasn’t your real sister. You both knew that.
A month passed, you talked to your biological father for the first and probably last time. He was quiet – you noticed silently – but attentive. Bruce Wayne never spoke unless necessary, you had heard, but with you, he was soft words and awkward smiles. You felt endeared by his behavior, despite being only eleven years old, and satisfied by his attention. It was like a flower being watered after weeks of neglect, like finally being fed a warm meal after weeks of starvation. The feeling was euphoric, and you brightened when he offered to go on a father-child date to get to know his new kid better.
And like any drug, the crash was abrupt and harsh. He disappeared into the shadows of the manor once more, and the next time you saw him his eyebags were darker and the lines in his forehead deeper. You couldn’t bear to be the one responsible for adding more onto his already seemingly overflowing plate. So, like your father, you let yourself melt into the shadows.
Throughout the years, your father took in more children with varying personalities. Although the manor was fuller, it still held that characteristic darkness to It, like it was destined to be lonely no matter how many people you put in it. You moved on, how could you not? It does you no good to dwell on what could’ve been had you integrated yourself into their circle. The curiosity and hurt would kill you (Though in the dark of the night, sometimes, you let yourself wonder).
You found out about their identities after two years of living with them. A long time? A bit, but how were you supposed to notice signs when they were never there, and this was the first time you were living and actually interacting (as limited as the interactions were) with rich people. At first you thought all rich people were quirky, but when their conversations went on, unaware of your hidden presence, you began realizing that maybe this wasn’t normal.
Resentment was the first feeling on your mind, though it quickly made way for resignation. The discovery reassured you, albeit disappointingly, because it showed you that no matter what you did, you would’ve never been apart of their world. You mourned a bit, yearning for a family; siblings who hung out with you, teased you, protected you, a dad who cherished you, showed you off. Then you moved on.
In fact, it pushed you to do better. Because if your sort-of family could go out to fight crime at night altruistically, you could do your best to help as well.
You began working harder towards your goal, becoming a doctor. Not to impress anyone, but because you wanted to make a difference in this city. You studied hard, pouring your life and soul into schoolwork, barely taking breaks.
Alfred grew worried, but you were as hardheaded and determined as your father, so his attempts to get through to you and push you to rest were all in vain. He even tried going through your siblings or Bruce, but it all fell through.
Silently, bitterly, during another all nighter, you’d sometimes liken yourself to the distant shadow of Tim in your memories. You wondered if this was why he did it, pushed himself to the brink for something. If this feeling was something he also eventually began clinging onto. But you had no time for such thoughts, so you pushed them away.
It was impressive how long you went on without breaking down and burning out. Yet you were a force of nature, a tree that let the weather mistreat it without letting it interrupt it from growing, water that kept flowing.
When you were fifteen, you told your family you wanted to be a doctor over dinner. It had been during an uncharacteristic lull in conversation, and you took the occasion to reveal it casually, like another piece of information, like it wasn’t your motivation and dream.
“And you think you’ll make it as a doctor?”
Your youngest brother and newest addition to the family sneered, an expression that felt wrong on a face so young. You didn’t rise to the bait.
“I’ve been studying a lot for a couple of years. I was just letting you know” you said, though your gaze remained on Bruce.
And since they were still quiet, you chose to drop the bomb.
“Can I practice by patching you guys up after patrol?”
Your question was polite in an almost indifferent way, though your indifference couldn’t hide your curiosity and eagerness for firsthand experience. A cup fell.
“What do you mean?” Dick asked awkwardly with a tense smile “What patrols?”
You deadpanned, rolling your eyes.
“Do you think I’m dumb? I’ve been living with you guys for four years. I’d have to be stupid not to know your secret identities by now”
Damian seemed satisfied with that answer, crossing his arms proudly and mumbling something about ‘superior Wayne genetics’, while the rest of your family had varied reactions. Dick gaped at you, as if your knowing of their identities was unthinkable, Steph seemed somewhat conflicted but amused, Cass… well, she didn’t seem angry (or anything for that matter?), in fact, she seemed proud, and Jason was cajoling loudly.
Nevertheless, the reaction you were looking at was your father’s. Bruce looked at you with an indecipherable expression. As did Tim. But you didn’t break eye contact, you wouldn’t back down – you wouldn’t be worthy of the Wayne name if you let them intimidate you. A deep, tired sigh.
“I had my doubts,” lies, you haven’t seen him in four months, but you’ll let him have it “but the idea isn’t bad”
The shocked reactions broke into disapproval
“They’re a civilian!” “B, they have zero experience, are you insane?-” “I don’t think that is the best idea, father” “That is the funniest thing you’ve said today, old man-” a guffaw.
“Enough” he interrupted. His voice oozed authority, enough to not need to shout for them to all fall silent again. Your father looked in your eyes, deeply, as if seeing something he hadn’t seen or noticed before, something hiding in plain sight.
A sigh “I agree to let you shadow the med area in the cave-” a chorus of complaints and disagreements suddenly interrupted him, but with a glare, they quieted down again “On one condition” he began ominously.
You raised an unimpressed brow. Did he have to be so dramatic about it? A sigh of your own, perhaps it was contagious “Sure. A condition” you repeated flatly. Your first real impression of your family wasn’t turning out to be exactly positive. The urge to retreat into the safety of your room and focus on your studies once more was heavily tempting.
“You’ll obviously need supervision, ideally from Alfred. You have no prior experience” You hummed in agreement. No, duh, you were fifteen, of course you had zero medical experience “You’ll also be required to shadow Dr Thompkins on the weekends to better your knowledge. If you want to help, you’ll help fully”
Perhaps you were more like your father than you thought, because in that moment, you felt like you were seeing him for the first time as well. A bitter taste coated your tongue as you gave an affirmative answer, then returned to your room, doing your best to ignore the argument that exploded at the dinner table after you left. Some things never changed, it seems. They always say what they truly feel and think when you’re not around.
Either way, you were satisfied with the outcome of the conversation, even though your dad’s utilitarian reasoning left a heavy feeling in your chest and a pain you couldn’t explain in your heart.
Nevertheless, that was the beginning of a new period of your life. The beginning of the end, perhaps. Because you are [Name] Wayne, and you were going to become a doctor and help – with the added valor of proving yourself to your family – if it was the last thing you did.
Hey someone suggested I use ChatGPT to figure out adulting today, and as I was going through the mental list of places I'd rather look, I realized "beloved strangers on Tumblr dot net" was on that list.
So if you have an aspect of adulting that you're really good at-taxes, budgeting, cooking, insurance, credit, time management, house upkeep, anything-please feel free to reblog with any tips.
That's us! Professional internet adults, specializing in financial stuff! We recommend starting with our Grand List of All Articles, or one of our Masterposts:
MASTERPOST: Everything You Need To Know About Taxes
MASTERPOST: Everything You Need to Know about How to Increase Your Income
MASTERPOST: Everything You Need to Know about Retirement and How to Retire
MASTERPOST: Everything You Need to Know about Credit and Credit Cards
MASTERPOST: Everything You Need to Know about Investing for Beginners
MASTERPOST: Everything You Need to Know about How to Pay off Debt
MASTERPOST: Everything You Need To Know About Living Independently for the First Time
MASTERPOST: Everything You Need to Know about Repairing Our Busted-Ass World
MASTERPOST: Everything You Need to Know about Self-Care
MASTERPOST: Everything You Need to Know about Getting a Job, Raise, or Promotion
MASTERPOST: Everything You Need to Know about Saving Money and Being Frugal
Being the neglected spouse of Bruce Wayne has a lot of highs that nobody talks about...
Hurt, no comfort but your resolution for change.
When Bruce Wayne offered you a contract marriage you were ecstatic! It wasn't a marriage of love or even loyalty, you knew that, it was of convenience.
Convenience for an easy excuse; "I have to get home to my partner." "Oh sorry I'm married." "My spouse wouldn't like that.". Convenience for someone to offload some paperwork on. Convenience for someone to take care of the children when he was busy when it wasn't Alfred. Convenience for a public icon when Bruce was busy doing god knows what.
As for the convenience of you that was easy;
Money and stability.
There was no stress on if you could afford something or not and no stress of wondering when the next financial burden would be dropped in your lap.
Bruce regularly gave you an allowance that was so big you wondered if you're dreaming. You could do anything with the millions of millions dollars could get you.
Have a hobby you enjoy or perhaps a new one you want to explore? You could get lessons with any pro in that hobby, you can get all new supplies for the hobby too. If it was something unique and so rare you can barely find anything online to order for it, that's easy you could just order something custom.
Are you disabled and need surgery, a new doctor (that perhaps works around the clock if you need it.), new mobility aids) or maybe something else to help you? Easy, you could get it in a heart beat. The best money could afford. You'll never have to count the cost of pain or discomfort again.
Maybe you're transgender and you would like bottom or top surgery, maybe hormones or something else entirely, you could do it. The best surgeons and doctors around the country could help you.
Or something else, perhaps you're black and you want your hair braided a certain way and haven't had the money to afford it, now any hair style you want is at your fingertips, Boho knotless braids, micro braids, French curl braids, box braids, goddess or cornrow braids. You name it.
Religious? You could have a church or temple sponsored, maybe build your own if there isn't one near you for your religion or the particular one you practice. You want tattoos or body mods? You could cover your entire body with them if you want. You want to sponsor a charity or your community? Done.
Whatever you can imagine there is an option, thanks to being filthy rich. Not to mention you get to live in a mansion. You don't even sleep with Bruce or do anything sexual for it too.
The only cons is that it's... lonely.
The manor is big, imposing and almost empty of life except the occasional Wayne child or Alfred roaming the halls. You can’t travel (because Bruce could need you at any time) and you're also not allowed to invite anyone over due to safety protocols either.
You can go out with friends if you have them though, but in a disguise. The one time you accidentally slipped up the paparazzi stormed you and your friends. Apparently they wouldn't leave your friends alone for weeks. After that you started to get less invites to places, probably out of fear everything would go wrong.
Buttttt… you did get to swim in a huge pool whenever you want that was right in your backyard and the wifi is AMAZING. Like so good you never once experienced lag again. That kind of distracted you from the aching loneliness you felt.
The loneliness of knowing the man you shared your vows with will never love you and is probably out sleeping with another person,
The loneliness of knowing any one of your Wayne step-children don’t care for your existence like a child would care for their parent normally,
The loneliness of knowing you may never be able to spend time with your friends or family again or make any new friends ones without cameras flashing in your face,
The loneliness of having nobody.
It only really hit you one day when you were scrolling a streaming site and all you could feel was boredom. Everything was dull, there was nobody to celebrate with you, no warm hugs, no tragic falling out, no angry outburst, no making up and laughing over nothing. There was nothing.
You could feel yourself moving before you realized it, going as fast as you can outside to the backyard which was acres on acres long. But you didn’t care you had to move, had to feel the breeze to stop you from crying.
You could feel yourself yelling into the wind. It was all so unfair. ‘Did I do something wrong to not deserve to be happy and loved? Doesn’t everyone deserve that? Was I just born to never have both?’ Was what your body and mind screamed. You almost wondered if any of this was worth it, but instead all you did was sit and sob. Sob angry sad hot tears that burned your skin as they fell. Bad thoughts creeping into your mind, whispering all the things you could do to hurt yourself or others. Maybe burn this damned manor into the ground. Maybe grab your husband by his collar and yell at him to spend some fucking time with you instead of treating you like a damn human prop.
You grit your teeth together, there has to be another option. You were going to make this work. Make someone other than the damn media acknowledge your presence. You won’t let people forget your existence.
Time and money both on your side, the only problem now was what to do.
my "How 2 Start Reading Batman Comics" zine I debuted at MICE this year! it was soooo much fun to put together, especially for baby's first mini-zine. Printed, it's only 6 interior pages and about medium hand size.
reminder: this is written for people who genuinely have no idea where to start, and it's from the POV of someone (me) who managed to get into Batman this way!
Imagine Y/N, slowly cracking under their neglect from the batfam, having to learn how to live in a family that doesn't want to see them. You're only a teen and have multiple years to go in the mansion.
You barely ever spoke up, gave up on all attempts of trying to communicate and befriend anyone. What was the point?
Till one day Bruce decided to ask you about your skipped classes, in that feigned concern. If you could call it feigned, he clearly had somewhere else to be.
And you, for the first time ever, just snapped. "Shut up and get the fuck away from me."
That's all you said, voice filled with disdain and hatred. It left Bruce speechless, watching you walk off with a new sense of spirit in you.
If they won't like you, you won't give them any reason to anymore.
-----------
Tim was hunched over, head ducked into his phone and scrolling through the latest article, possibly connected to a case he's working on, when suddenly he bumps into someone. It's hard enough for him to drop his phone and see it bounce weakly off the ground.
He looks up and sees you, your own device also clattered onto the floor.
"watch—"
"Watch where you're going! Are you blind or something? Or is that shitload of coffee finally catching up to you, dingbat." You curse, quickly snatching your phone off the floor and muttering a couple more unsavory things under your mouth. Tim tries to say something, tries to ask what's wrong, but you're already off and away without as much as a glance behind you.
Have you always been so angry and bold? Come to think of it, he hasn't talked to you in a while, better make sure you're okay.
-------
You lay on the couch, sprawled out like you personally bought and built it. TV remote in hand, a random show you found blasting through the living room.
This place has the best couch, the best view of the biggest TV in the manor (if you don't count any in the batcave) and has the best sound system up here. You didn't come up here often, since it was a popular space for the bats to relax in. But now, you didn't care.
"hey, you gonna finish that soon?" A cheery voice suddenly picked up behind you. You lazily dropped your head back to look at the noir haired Nightwing. "My show's gonna be on soon."
You looked at Dick for a moment, face blank, before replying "I won't be finishing soon, no." Without further input you direct your attention back to the show. Dick was a bit... Caught off guard. "Uh— what?"
You scoff, pausing the show as if he was wasting precious time and turned your entire body to fully deliver your next words. "I said I'm not finished, I'm gonna binge watch this whole thing today, go find somewhere else to watch those stupid rom-coms. Stop acting as if this is the only goddamn TV in this manor."
Dick is, to say the least, surprised. Your attitude has thrown him off his thought process, and just absolutely fumbled him. He doesn't know what to do so he just, walks out.
What's gotten into you? When did you become so angry? Did he do something? He needs to figure this out quick.
-------
Soon, it seems like the air has thickened. You feel the bats's eyes linger on you as you walk by, taking in your every move and facial expression. Why does it feel like all of a sudden everyone is secretly staring at you? Why is everyone starting to act like they care? It unsettled you, so whenever someone did something even slightly suspicious in your eyes, you'd snarl and bark for them to go away and go on another mission or something.
-------
Alfred tricked you.
You stood in the meeting room, the grand table having full seats. Every one of them, Bruce, Dick, Tim, Damian, heck even Jason was here, they were all here and looking right at you.
You nervously looked at each member, feeling small and vulnerable again.
There was no fresh batch of cookies in here...
Bruce spoke up, fists clenched on the hardwood table, his voice uncharacteristically soft, gentle, sincere.
"Y/N, please take a seat. We'd like to talk to you."
Note: Ayyy I’m back! Sorry for the long hiatus, uni was keeping me busy🥲
…
Tuesday
You quietly slip out of the house, fiddling with the peel of an orange you grabbed off the kitchen island.
A friend once told you that keeping the peel intact means you’ll live a long life. A silly superstition but a small part of you worries it’s true.
You carefully unwrap the orange, leaving a peel that looks almost like a ribbon. You twirl the peel around your finger and make your way to the bus.
You could’ve used the family valet but you like taking public transportation. It makes you feel normal. Like you’re not stuck with a family of rich weirdos.
You stuff the entire orange into your mouth and sit down in the back. You pull out your phone and play a generic matching game as the bus rocks unsteadily to your destination.
The ride doesn’t take too long and you gather your things before hopping off the bus. The air is still damp from the night’s heavy rain and leaves a comforting smell.
You made sure to get off at an earlier stop today so you could head to the store. Sure, you could’ve patched up your backpack but why not spend your father’s precious money?
You patter into the dingy department store and head for the school supplies. There still might be some backpacks left since school only started yesterday.
“Great,” you huff sarcastically.
All that’s left is a navy blue backpack with a giant, green t-Rex on the front. You can only imagine the judgmental stares you’d get bringing that thing to school.
Your backpack from yesterday is barely hanging onto your shoulder after being put through hell. There’s still dirt caked on it from your muddy fall.
You reluctantly grab the bag and shuffle over to the checkout. You greet the woman at the checkout but she doesn’t even look at you.
After paying, you take the backpack outside and transfer all of your school supplies. You toss your old backpack in a nearby garbage can and start walking to school.
Your only about ten minutes early and have to hustle through the pristine halls. Everyone you walk by whips their heads around to take a glimpse at your bag.
You leave a trail of snickering behind you and slip into the first class of the day.
…
Three classes later and you feel like the dead. The orange you ate did nothing for your hunger and you eagerly head to the lunchroom.
The line for lunch is rough and you keep getting bumped into by the group of societal conformists behind you.
An insincere “sorry” being repeated between giggles as they repeatedly jab your backpack. You grind your teeth, holding in every venomous word that attempts to escape you.
You collect a chicken burrito and an apple, meekly smiling at the lunch lady. You rush to the nearest table and start eating your meal.
“Dude, no way!”
A group of students crowd under the lunchroom tv. Batman and Superman dart across the screen, attacking some demonic-looking creatures over in Metropolis.
You roll your eyes and leave for the courtyard. You plop down below a thick tree and finish your food.
“Can’t even escape Batman at school,” you think bitterly.
…
It’s the last class of the day and your science teacher drones on and on about whatever the lesson is. You can’t help but space out and lean against the wall.
Your mindless staring at the window is interrupted by a face peering at you in the reflection of the glass.
You turn and see a boy staring at you. He takes a peek at the teacher before swiftly grabbing his bag and settling in the seat next to you.
“Hi,” he whispers with a small grin.
He sticks his hand out, “my name is Banks. Is this your first year at this school?”
You sit up and shake his hand, “nice to meet you. Uh yeah, it is.”
“I can tell,” he says quickly, “it’s my first year too. I was hoping to find someone in the same boat as me.”
Banks starts writing something on a sticky note and you take the time to analyze him. He has dark brown skin and a litany of facial piercings. His braids lightly sway as he nods his head to whatever is playing on his earbuds.
He seams optimistic and kind, definitely not a Gotham resident. “Must be from Central City or something,” you ponder.
Banks pushes the sticky note over to you. A phone number and an ugly sketch of two people at a desk take up the small, yellow paper.
“This way we can collaborate on homework and stuff. It’s good to have a friend in a place like this,” he mutters while eyeing the rest of the class.
For the first time in who knows how long you smile. “Thanks, I was actually hoping to make a friend,” you whisper back.
The two of you spend the rest of the class chatting and complaining about the rest of the school.
The bell rings and you bid each other goodbye. You prance down the hall with a bit more confidence than earlier.
“Maybe this school isn’t all bad. Oh and hopefully Banks won’t mind telling me where he got his piercings done,” you muse.
…
This time you call a cab and ride back to the manor. The driver gawks at the impressive abode while you clamor out of the backseat.
A short walk and you’re at the front door, kicking away someone’s mail. You unlock the massive door and leave your shoes in the entrance.
You walk past the first-floor kitchen and spot Tim making some sort of dessert. His dark bangs drape like a curtain, blocking his eyes from view.
He pours a bottle of something into the mixture and continues to work. It’s not lost on you that he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence.
Darling, perched atop one of the kitchen stools, jerks their head to watch you walk by.
“Nice backpack,” they say in a child-like tone.
“Shut up.”
Your response is curt and firmer than normal. Darling look taken aback, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
“What was that?” Tim seethes.
He’s now angrily whisking the batter, glaring at you like you just killed someone.
Instead of falling for his obvious argument bait, you wordlessly disappear around the corner and climb the stairs. The walk back to your room is quiet but you’re internally bubbling with excitement.
You’ve never taken that sort of tone with Darling or ignored Tim. It feels liberating.
You know that Tim will send Dick or Bruce to lecture you later and complain about your “unruly behavior.”
For the mean time, you start to get your homework ready. You cant stop smiling while thinking about your rebellious moment from earlier.
You lay down on your rug and type quickly while responding to the different prompts. After several hours of work you close the laptop and stretch across the rug.
You hear raised voices coming from down the hall. You hear someone grumble your name and Darling in the same sentence.
The footfalls sound heavy, demanding, and feel like impending doom. Bruce.
“Absolutely not,” you mutter under your breath.
You grab your phone, wallet, and your bottle of water before zipping over to the window. You shove the window open and climb out onto the ledge.
You stuff your phone and wallet in your pocket and drop your water bottle. The two-story fall is muffled by the thick grass that the bottle landed on.
You follow behind by climbing down the latticework that’s covered in vines. You drop down the rest of the way and grab the bottle.
You sprint across the well-kept lawn and swing open the single-person gate only a few yards from the driveway.
You practically skip down the sidewalk through the extravagant neighborhood. You can barely contain your excitement.
Telling Darling to “shut up” and sneaking out at night? Bruce is going to blow a gasket at this rate. “If he even cares, that is,” you presume.
While trying to fish your phone out of your pocket something tumbles out and onto the ground.
You lean down and pick up the slightly crumpled note.
“Why the hell not,” you think giddily.
You unfold the note from earlier and call up Banks, “Um…hi. Is this Banks?”
“Hey, fellow newbie. Calling me already huh?” Banks asks jokingly.
“Actually I was wondering if you’d want to hangout? I’m looking to get a piercing or two and noticed you have quite a few,” you explain.
“Say no more,” Banks cheers.
…
Extra note: let me know if I missed you on the tag list!
"Damian, you could really use a haircut," Bruce said. "It's starting to get out of hand."
"I feel fine," Damian said.
"You look like a hedgehog," Tim volunteered.
You looked up from your pancakes, annoyed. Why were these scrubs pestering your brother? "Tim, if Damian doesn't want his identity to be revealed by his hair, there are ways to reduce the volume without the use of scissors." You turned to Damian. "Damian, I beg of you, if you do plan on getting a haircut, avoid Tim's barber. If you come into this house with the same atrocious bowl cut, I won't be able to look at you."
"Yes, big sister," Damian said, hugging you before going up to his room. The best thing about you and your sibling sharing a dislike for a person was that you could trade insults.
Tim looked at you with eyes of betrayal. "Do you really think my hair is that bad?"
"Yes. I also believe it is damaging for your worldview to have your hair styled by kitchen supplies," you said. "What's next; brushing your hair with a fork like Ariel the mermaid?"
Jason burst out laughing. The references, the linking of your insults against the teen CEO, it was too good. He was going to high-five you for a second, but then he noticed that you were gone.
Damn it.
*_*_*_*_*_
A little while later, you heard a knocking on the door to your room. "Y/N? Y/N, are you there?" you heard Damian ask.
"Yes, dear. Come in," you said.
Damian came in looking troubled. "Is my hair getting out of control?" Damian asked.
"Depends. Do you have trouble controlling it?"
"No. But I'm worried that it'll give my identity away. Me and Robin have the same hairstyle. I don't want to ruin everything."
They'd gotten to him. Those shits had burrowed into your little brother's head. "I have a plan that involves nobody cutting your hair, but you'll have to listen to me, is that clear?"
"Yes, sister."
"First, you're washing all of that gel out of your hair. Then, you're going to dry your hair and bring me some coconut oil and a hair blow dryer."
You styled your brother's hair into something that looked presentable and notably different, carefully applying coconut oil so as not to dry out his hair now that he wasn't spiking it to oblivion with gel. "This should be enough to make it clear that Robin is not Damian Wayne."
Damian looked at the more relaxed hair style that you'd given him. Still styled upwards, but not as aggressively as before. "It's perfect! Thank you!"
"Come to me if you're having trouble with maintenance." You smiled as he ran through the manor, presumably to annoy Tim. He'd better be annoying Tim.
Jason stuck his smug face into your room. "Nice, job, Y/N! You think maybe you could-"
summary: y/n l/n is a 18 year old girl that struggled in school a lot. It all started in kindergarten when her soul marks never appeared, becoming the class joke. But trust me, y/n’s life never got any easier when the marks did finally appear.
WARNING: MINORS DNI 18+, student x teacher, mentions of burning, scars, bullying, polyamorous, yandere, yandere themes, kidnapping, murdering, nsfw, DELUSION, violence.
THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG.
Great, everyone believes you're dead now. The look of absolute dread on your face never went unnoticed by the trio. They don't care, the hard part is over with now. You look down at the chain wrapped around your ankles and grab the chain to play with it, while thinking about izuku and everything that happened at the hotel. It happened too fast, way too fast. They knew exactly where you were in a drop of a dime. But how? Is izuku ok? What about my mom?
“Seems the hard part is over with now huh”? You keep your head down as a pair of bare feet come into view. You hold the chain tighter and run your thumb over it. “Aw not talking to your favorite person?” the words of the man going in one ear and out the other. Refusing to grace them with your eyes as you stared at the ground. They seemed bummed out that you didn't speak nor look at him. So he crouched down into your view and rested his arms on his knees. His long blond hair falling over his muscular shoulders as he leans towards you, his green irises peering at you through his glasses. It's Hizashi.
You’ve never seen him in normal glasses before. He looks good, too good. You never noticed him without the apron either, he must’ve taken it off when you weren't paying attention. The half naked muscular man in tight pink boxers making you blush. You averted your eyes before he
notices you looking too hard, can't let him have what he wants.
He huffed and tilted his head. He raised a hand to caress your face and gently rub his thumb over your jawline. You closed your eyes as he admired you like a hungry and greedy man. He gripped your jaw and gently forced your head to look in his direction. “Look at me.” you closed your eyes tighter and forced your head out of his hand. In return he rolled his eyes and spoke with patience.
“Everythings gonna be fine ok, we got this. You’ll be grateful soon enough. There's plenty of food to eat and room to run around in.” you opened your eyes and looked at him disgusted that he was talking to you like you were some animal in a cage. “Hey and maybe if you behave you can go outside. With supervision of course.” he smiled at you, the light practically beaming off of his perfect pearly whites. You felt a wave of emotions rising in you as you contemplated violently knocking his perfect teeth out of his mouth. You both turned your heads when a voice cut in.
“have the cameras been set up yet”? Shota asks while walking past to make himself some coffee in the kitchen. All the violent thoughts in your head have been halted.
Jesus he’s fine as fuck. You watch as he walks past with pure lean muscle from head to toe, tight black boxers, and long black hair flowing with his movement, he looked almost like a god. Hizashi notices you watching sho as he walks past you guys all the way to the kitchen.
Hizashi smirks at you as he stands up and responds to him “not yet, but later today the team is gonna come back and finish up the work to set up the cameras and all that.” he said while walking towards shota who was pouring piping hot coffee into his favorite gray mug, that no one else is allowed to use. The steam rising from the mug looks hypnotizing as he pours it. He gently places the coffee pot back into its place, before taking a sip of the piping hot liquid.
You can't seem to understand why he likes his coffee that way, hizashi can't either.
No cream or sugar, just black coffee. That's how he liked it, simple. Toshi used to drink it like that as well, but ever since his incident with one for all leaving that wound, doctors advise him not to drink any heavily caffeinated drinks. If he wishes to enjoy a cup, it must be sparingly.
You can’t help but stare mesmerized as your soon to be fiance shota leaned against the counter. Abs flexing as he crosses his muscular arms over his chest while holding the steaming cup of coffee. His hair is a long black mess falling over his shoulders. You honestly wouldn’t mind giving your virginity to him, especially when he looked like that under his clothes. you secretly favored him over the others. But you are upset with him for what he did to Izuku. Your attention was broken when Hizashi snapped his fingers and looked at shota with excitement. “Guess what?” shota looked up at him with tired dead eyes “what”.
“ I know we were trying to be smart with our money considering the plan and all, but I did pay extra for extremely strong glass. Y’know for all the windows and mirrors, and even the glass doors, y’know for extra security.” He said as he walked to the kitchen window and knocked on it. “She ain’t gonna break this bad boy. Theyre gonna install all of it today.” shota nodded impressed and responded after taking another sip. “Good purchase.”
toshinori got up off of the couch and made his way over to you “where are we going to put her, while they’re here?”
Hizashi looked over at the clock on the wall knowing they’re gonna be here in a couple of hours. “Shit your right.” he clicked his teeth with his tongue while thinking. “Well they pretty much finished installing her room yesterday, could put her up there, and you could keep her company while I work down here with the team.” hizashi said to toshi while looking up at you with his hands on his hips.
Toshi nodded in agreement. “Well I gotta get going, gotta work.” shota cut in while setting his finished coffee cup on the counter. He pecked hizashi and toshi on the lips as he disappeared upstairs. Hizashi looked at toshi. “I gotta head to work after the team leaves, can you handle her?'' Toshi looks at you and smiles “of course, she's a good girl. Except for the fight from yesterday.'' Hizashi looked down at you remembering the fight. “Gonna have to work extra hard for my forgiveness, " he said while massaging the bruise on his calf. You looked up at him confused and disgusted. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Hizashi smiled at you sweetly and seductively '' Anything you want it to mean sunshine. alright i'm gonna go put some clothes on”. He said as he stood up straight and patted you on the head and disappeared up the same stairs as his husband.
Toshi walked over to you bending down to start undoing your chains. “BEHAVE” he said as he stared into your soul. He wore a black shirt and gray sweatpants. Not as attractive as the others, also never thought he would wear that either. He grabbed your arm and helped you up before gathering the chains and guiding you down a hallway and into your new room that's right beside his.
So hizashi and sho’s rooms are upstairs. There's apparently a bunch of rooms with bathrooms but they chose your room to be one without one, since they would want you to use one of theirs with supervision. The bedroom was honestly beautiful. The bed, the lights, the curtains, the decor, you even have a tv. No wonder everyone leaves the decorating to hizashi.
“Do you need to use the restroom?” he asked, looking down at you while holding your arm and tossing the chains onto the bed. “No”. It was a lie, and a big one. But you know that he would stand in there with you. “Alright then” he said as he picked you up and placed you on the bed. “What are you doing?” you asked as he started wrapping the chains around your ankles again.
“What's necessary, especially after yesterday.” After he wrapped you up he grabbed the television remote and laid down next to you. “What do you wanna watch” you huffed and turned over. “Nothing.” toshinori rolled his eyes and turned on a sitcom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After half an hour you heard a couple of knocks on your door before it creaked open. Shota walked in dressed in his hero suit. He kissed toshi before walking to the other side of the bed to lean over you and peck your forehead with his lips. You pretended to be asleep. Sho knew that was bullshit. But he couldn't help but admire you as he ran his scared fingers through your hair. The memories of his horrific act with the clone, clouding his mind. Your “funeral” is also today. He’s gotta look nice at the funeral that's going to be broadcasted on national television. Toshi is supposed to be there, but he can't so sho will make an excuse for him.
His mind raced with thoughts as he began to caress your face gently as if you were made of glass and would break. You're here, and you're safe, that's all that matters to him. He bent down one last time to peck your lips before heading off to work. His lips were warm and minty. He must have put on some chapstick. It sadly made you crave more. Without thinking you chased his lips when he pulled away. He looked down at you surprised before dipping back down. He connected his lips with yours again. You were shocked that you did that. But his lips feel good. It felt like a comfort you never knew you needed. He pulled away and smiled at you. “I gotta head out, ok?” he said. You looked away ashamed of what you did. He waved at toshi before walking out.
You stared at the ceiling as you heard him walking through the house and out of the front door. Hearing his car drive off before deciding to look over at toshi who had his reading glasses on while playing a crossword puzzle out of a book. Good lord. You heard more knocking on the door and looked over, and in came the boisterous blond. He was wearing a white shirt and black sweatpants as well with his Long blond hair in a bun. He smiled brightly at you and toshi. “Doesn’t this room look beautiful? I had it done specifically to your preferences sweetheart.”
you looked confused then scanned the room. He was right, your favorite colors and animals and posters. Everything down to a T, and you never noticed. But how could he know? He never saw your room….right?
Little did you know that his obsession with you is stronger than the other two’s. It got so bad that he was getting up in the middle of the night, and sneaking out of the house without waking his husband to go to your home and sneak into your window undetected to watch you sleep. There's been many nights where he slept in the same room with you without you knowing.
Even went as far as to unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants, watching as his rock hard length sprung into the cool air with a red hot tip dribbling pre cum. He rubbed one out as he stood at the foot of your bed.
He even used your lotion. Precum flying everywhere as he thrusted into his fist roughly at the end of your bed. Loud slick sounds bounced off the walls as he picked up the pace and tightened his fist. He picked up a pair of used panties off the floor to catch his cum as it spurted out. He breathed heavily as he looked up at you after cumming. Smiling like a dork. Thinking to himself that he wishes that you could watch him do that. He has a kink for his partners watching him touch himself. If only you could see how big and long he was, how he could satisfy you and hit every spot inside of you, making you scream, as your ass bounced off his dick.
But that information stays with him until the day he dies. But just know that he definitely has seen your room more than enough times. “It's awesome right?” he said looking at you expectantly. You looked around trying not to get creeped out. “Sure” he frowned at the simple, small uninterested answer. Before he could say anything else. You all heard loud car door slams outside. Not like you could look outside your window since you're chained to your bed. Toshinori sat up and Hizashi walked over to the window.
“Great they’re here”! He says spinning around and walking out of the room.
The next couple of hours were filled with loud footsteps, loud bangs, and thuds, the sounds of hammers and drills as they install cameras and decor to hizashi’s liking. The blond's loud voice constantly booming around the house with “NOT THERE” and “PUT IT HERE” and “HEY BE CAREFUL WITH THOSE, THEY WERE MY MOTHERS.”
You looked up as a couple of men entered your room to install a camera in the corner of your ceiling. Hizashi entered the doorway and met toshinoris glare. “Sorry I forgot about a camera needing to be in this room too.” Hizashi said while he shrugged at toshi. You looked up at the man on the ladder, and the men surrounding him. They were all purposefully not looking at you. Like they felt pity for you. No...almost like they were scared to look in your direction. Almost like if they even dared to view you, they would meet their fate. Hizashi is their fate. He's the most obsessive and predatory person you have ever met.
“All right, great work boys.” he said as they wrapped up everything and started heading out of your room. One stayed behind. “Looks like we did everything, it all looks pretty good, and the cameras were installed perfectly. If you have any questions or need anything else, please call me.” Hizashi nodded at him with respect and handed him a $100 tip, and with that all the men gathered their belongings and left the home.
You looked up at the camera pointing right at you in the corner of your room. “Check this out toshi, we can download an app that controls the cameras.” Hizashi said as he used his phone to move the camera every which way. Great definitely no privacy. He walked over to toshi to help him download the app. Once they got all that situated. Hizashi left to get ready for work. Toshi thanked god that it was his day off because then you would be left home alone. What could be better than Toshi's company? He thought to himself.
Hizashi came back into the room smiling in his hero suit. “All right my doves, I must be off.” he said as he kissed Toshi on the lips and rounded the bed to kiss you. He tried to kiss your lips but you dodged it. He didn't give up though, you kept moving your head around to dodge the kisses and eventually he got tired of it and grabbed your face and forced your lips onto his. “See it wasnt that hard huh?” he said, chuckling to himself. He stood up straight and fixed his jacket. “All right, I'm going to work, I'll be back later. If you need anything toshi im one call away.” Toshi nodded at him and wished him well.
The day carried on with you laying in bed and toshinori doing paperwork with reading glasses next to you in bed. He occasionally thought about izuku. How disappointed in him he is for kidnapping you and scaring you. (still delusional i see). He thought about how he is going to deal with him. No better way than to threaten him. You thought about izuku as well. How is he doing?
You decided to change the channel and forget your worries. Until the news channel came on and it's a funeral. You thought nothing of it until the person in the casket looked familiar… is that…you? It's a funeral. For you. Toshinori looked up from his puzzle to see what the commotion was. His eyes widened. Shit… he forgot about that happening today.
Aizawa was there looking down with everyone else as they prayed over your casket. Your mother was there beside him “sobbing”. She didn't seem too upset. Maybe she knows you're still alive. Hope filled your body. Maybe you can be saved. The funeral wasn’t too long. Your casket was lowered into the ground and everyone was interviewed, paying their respects. Including your mother. Aizawas' interview was just a bunch of “you cant save everyone” bullshit. Great now everyone DEFINITELY believes that you're dead.
They wasted no time getting the ball rolling for everything. It hasn't even been a day yet and your funeral is already happening.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hizashi had no problem covering for his husband's class while he was attending your “funeral”. It wasn’t for too long since the funeral was set to start a couple of hours before class starts. Shota was only 10 minutes late to class today. Nothing major. Once he returned Hizashi told him how good and quiet the kids were today before heading to his own class.
Shota seemed to be treating Midoriya differently today. He seems to drop everything he hands izuku onto the ground before izuku could grab it, Almost like shota is dropping it on purpose. He hands out classwork to everyone but izuku. He huffs in annoyance when izuku raises his hand. Izuku’s terrified of his teacher because of the past event that happened, but he must be brave. “Yes midoriya?” he says in a low sinister tone. Izuku gulps. “You didn't hand me one sir.” shota rolls his eyes before saying “oh you mean one of these?” while lifting up a sheet of classwork. GULP ``yes sir” he smirks. “Come get one then.'' Izuku stood up slowly and made his way to his teacher's desk. It felt like centuries as Aizawa stared at him. He stopped at the foot of his desk and looked down at the sheet of paper sitting next to his teacher's laptop. Shota noticed his hesitancy.
In a low predatory tone he spoke. “Go on, take it.” izuku closed his eyes and gulped before slowly reaching his shaky hand to grab the paper. “I'm not gonna bite.” Once izuku’s hand touched the paper, shota jumped and growled loudly at him just like a dog attack. Izuku snatched his hand back to himself and stumbled over himself. He looked horrified at Aizawa as he laughed like it was the funniest thing he has ever done. He's never seen his teacher laugh so hard or even smile in that matter. Izuku’s heart is beating out of his chest. Shota stands up and wipes a tear from his own eye.
“Oh you know I'm just joking around with ya kid. You should have seen your face.” he says as he hands him the sheet of paper. Izuku just stares at him. “Well go on, take it.” shota insists. He snatches the paper quickly out of his teachers hand as if he’ll rip his arm off. Shota’s face drops back into a dead look before leaning over in his face and saying in a chilling tone. “Now go sit the fuck down.”
Izuku scrambled back to his desk while the class laughed at him. He couldn't focus on his work after that. Shota noticed. “Midoryia, you better focus, I would hate to have to take you out of the hero course.” izuku looked up and saw shota staring at him through his long back hair. “Yes sir.”
Hizashi treated midoriya no differently than shota. Constantly “forgetting” about him, and torturing him. Giving him more homework than the rest of the class. Izuku regretted getting involved with your scary situation. But you're his best friend, how could he not? You're gone now and there's nothing he can do. He saw the news. You were found dead in that very hotel room, and had a funeral later as well. It doesn't make sense. Not for someone who was there. He saw you being escorted out. How could you end up back in the same room dead. He doesn't believe what everyone was fooled by. You're not dead. He knows it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Tea”? Toshinori shouted from the kitchen. “Sure” you said looking dead at the living room television as some random rom com played. He was nice enough to let you out of your chains earlier since you asked nicely and promised to be good. How far could you possibly get? This place is basically locked down to the highest levels possible. The locks are apparently top notch along with the glass windows and doors, and there are hella cameras. Your ass aint getting anywhere without anyone knowing. Hell, just moving an inch would have the cameras notifying them.
They were even nice enough to inject a small quirk canceling thing in your arm while you were asleep. Definitely an illegal thing. They got it off the street from a guy who also laced it so you couldn't feel it. You can thank Toshinori for that idea since he used to do drugs when he was at his lowest, fucking all those women looking for his soulmate (aka you). The only reason you know about the thing in your arm is because toshi slipped up when he was mumbling about protecting you when he thought you were asleep.
“I need to use the bathroom.” you mumbled as toshi walked over to you carefully with a hot cup of tea, setting it down in front of you. He stood back up and nervously wiped his hands on his pants and looked around. “Uh sure, of course.” you stood up and looked at him. “Oh, uh, it's upstairs and it's the first door on the left. Do you want me to come with”? You shook your head. “I can manage, i mean how far can i get in this house?” you laughed in defeat. Apparently he didn't find that funny. He watched as you made your way up to the bathroom. You closed the door and scrambled to the toilet to pee immediately. You’ve been holding it since this morning. Luckily toshi trusted you enough to take the chains off your feet and let you roam around. Almost time for the other two to start heading home if they don't have other plans. After wiping you stood up and pulled your pants up. You washed your hands with the wonderfully scented soap that hizashi picked out.
You sighed as you looked at yourself in the mirror. God you look like shit. You bent down and splashed your face with ice cold water for almost a solid minute as if you're trying to wake yourself up from this dream. Not working. You shut off the water and walked over to the towels and dried your face off. You thought about everything and took a deep breath and put your back against the wall and slid down to the floor. You slumped over on the floor wishing death upon yourself. Looking straight ahead you notice the sink cabinets. Wonder what’s under there. You get up on your knees and crawl over and open it, of course you expected back up bathroom necessities, and it was. But you notice something all the way in the back. A singular bobby pin. An idea slams your brain. The locks around the house may be top notch, but you're sure it's nothing a bobby pin cant take care of.
You quickly move everything and grab the bobby pin. You sit back and hold the bobby pin in between your palms as you pray to the heavens that your idea works. Hope finds its way into your heart. But all of that was interrupted by knocking on the door. You scrambled to close the cabinet and stand up shoving the bobby pin into your sock. “Hey, are you alright, you’ve been in there for a while.”
“Yeah im fine.” you say with your heart beating out of your chest. You stumble back as he unlocked the door with ease and came in. “sorry just had to make sure you were ok.” he walked into the bathroom and scanned it and scanned you. Looks fine to him. “Let's go play a board game, yeah”? You nodded and followed him to the dining room table as he grabbed a board game from a large cabinet. “Let's play candyland.” he said as he smiled at you bringing it over to set it on the table. Candyland, your childhood game. How the fuck do these creeps know everything about you. “Have you played this before”? He asked as he unpacked it. Oh as if he doesn’t fucking know.
You rolled your eyes. “Can I get a snack out of the fridge”? He looked up and over to the kitchen. “Sure” he didn't worry since he could see everything going on in the kitchen from where he sat. you stood up and went to the fridge pretending to pick something out. The fridge and kitchen was loaded with snacks and foods that you liked. The only reason they would know is from the worksheets they hand us in the beginning of the year to write things down about ourselves and the snacks, foods, hobbies, music, and colors that we like.
You walked over to the cabinet close to a small stairway that led to a hallway with a glassdoor. One that led to the outside world. You looked over to toshi to see his nose deep in the board game instructions. You looked around the kitchen with something to hit him with. There's no knives. They hid them all. Fuck. But there's a cutting board. It was a fancy glass one, it was fucking heavy. You quietly grab it and put it behind your back and make your way over to toshi. He never noticed you walking over, raising a cutting board over your head in a deadly manner.
He started mumbling to himself, confused on the instructions “Wait, if this goes here, then this must go-” WHAM
He was out like a light. His blond head slamming against the table. Silence filled the room as he slumped over. You stared at him terrified that you actually did that before the adrenaline kicked in and you were running like a bat out of hell towards the back door. Regret fills you as you approach the clear glass door and notice how gray and foggy it is outside from all of the heavy rain, how could you even see? Why now of all times? It's too late now. It’s now or never. You scrambled to get the pin out from your sock, you were shaking so bad that you dropped it a few times, before finally getting it into the door, after constantly looking behind you. “CLICK” oh my god. You did it. It's unlocked. So much for “MAXIMUM security locks”. You grabbed the door knob and swung the door open, and there it is, that beautiful view you were dying to see. The outside world. After looking over your shoulder just one more time, you booked it out of the house. You could see it, smell it, and taste it. Freedom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
School let out and shota decided to stay and take over for the detention teacher since they had a personal emergency, and hizashi decided to go over to your mothers house and share his condolences for your death. He hopped into the car throwing his bags into the back seat and took his jacket, speaker, headphones and shades off. Tossing them in the passenger seat beside him. He grabbed a comb from out of the glove department and combed his hair down and put it in a bun. He opened the department to put the brush back and grabbed a pair of his normal glasses and put them on. He looked in the rearview mirror at his face to see if he looked good. Even checking his pearly white teeth. “Alright” he said as he put the keys in the ignition and started the car. “Let's get this ball rolling.” he said as he began to drive out of there.
Hizashi decided to hit up a flower shop on the ride there. Once he got the flowers, he was on his way to your moms. The car ride there was almost unbearable, the traffic was awful and he almost got T-boned 12 times by fucking idiots who apparently are color blind to traffic lights. But alas, he made it. He slowly pulled up to your house and turned the car off. Deciding to look into the mirror one last time before taking a deep breath and getting out. He closed the car door and made his way up your porch. He took a deep breath as he rang the doorbell. Sounds of a small dog barking and a woman telling it to hush, can be heard on the other side of the door. The sound of a lock can be heard before the door opens. “Oh hello there.” your mother says with a bright smile. Hizashi nodded “hello ms. L/n, do you mind if i come in”? She looked him up and down in a seductive way before answering. “Why sure.” he was absolutely disgusted. Her daughter just “died” and this is how she acts?
Hizashi kept his smile as he entered the home and looked around as your mother shut the door behind him. “Are those for me”? She asked sweetly. Hizashi nods and hands her the flowers. “Oh I gotta find a pretty vase for these.” she sings as she walks to the kitchen. “Oh I almost forgot, how rude of me. Would you like any Tea, water, juice, or coffee”? She asked while scurrying past him to pull out a chair from the table for him to sit. He waved his hand with dismissal while sitting down in the seat she offered. “No thank you, I appreciate it though”.
He smiled at her.
“Ok then, what brings your handsome self here”? She says as she fills a vase with water and places the flowers inside. He visibly cringes with the language. “I just thought that I should come by and give you my condolences about what happened with y/n”. He says as he fakes a look of concern and sadness on his face.
She looks down and chuckles a bit. “Oh, that's all”? Setting the flowers aside.
Hizashi looks confused. “She’s not all that special to me mr. Yamada.” Your mom looks straight ahead out the window above the sink into the back yard to look at the swingset that you used to play on when you were a kid.
“Yes, she was my child. But she was nothing but a financial problem for me and my boyfriends that i dated. They wanted her gone. But I kept her since she had a chance of becoming a hero and being famous, so I would be able to use her for my own wealth. I mean this swingset I bought for her put me into debt.” She says as she gestures her hand towards the swingset outside of the window.
Hizashi’s eyes widened. What. the. Actual. Fuck. And he thought HE was sick in the head. Get a load of this bitch. He’s stunned. This was never the reaction he thought he would get. This is a joke right?
“I'm sorry”? He says as he stands up. “You heard me. I'm free now. No more having to pay for an ungrateful little bitch, no more forcing her into the hero course, and no more stress of trying to figure out what to do with her since all of my past boyfriends don't seem like her. I can now erase her as if I never had a child, and I would have better luck with relationships” She turned and smiled at Hizashi but her smile faltered a little bit before saying, “but my chance of wealth is out of the picture now that she’s gone.”
“Is that all you're worried about”? Hizashi says in all seriousness and rage. Damn he never thought your mom would say such things about you. “At the moment, yes. Besides, now that she’s gone I can finally shoot my shot with you. I have always had a thing for you, But dating my daughter's teacher would be odd, but she's gone now, and you're definitely my type.” she says as she walks over with a seductive smirk.
He takes a few steps back. “You choose men over your own child and teachers are where you draw the line”? She reaches the table that he stood at and leans on it. “What's the matter, I've always noticed the way you look at me, your partner with the dark hair as well, maybe we can run a train. You should call him since you're already here” she says as she gestures her head behind her towards her bedroom. Hizashi looks past her shoulder and sees she's gesturing to her room.
He visibly cringes trying not to vomit from pure disgust. It takes everything in him not to tell her that he’s definitely into her daughter instead of her. Rage fills his body. “How the fuck could you say something like that.” His heart hurts for you. Thank the Gods that he kidnapped you, he practically saved you and he can tell you had no idea that your mother held this secret of rage and hatred. His soul hurt. Memories of him attending crime scenes where the child met a terrible fate because the mothers chose the man over them, begins to flood in and haunt him where he stands. He wishes nothing but the worst for those types of mothers. Little did he know that your mother was one of them.
She looks at him confused seeing that he hurts for you. “What? You want her over me? Oh my god of course you do, she’s always been prettier than me.'' She throws her hands up in defeat and walks towards him shoving a finger to his chest. “Fine, if thats how you want to be then get the fuck out of my house. NOW!” he stares down at her with anger and a lone tear falling down his face. He contemplates his next move.
This is all happening so fast and unexpected. Does he beat her until she’s unrecognizable? Does he start recording and show the police and frame her for the death of her daughter? The second option sounds like a wonderful plan honestly. His fists clenched up. She huffed and turned around to walk away. He raises his fist but logic struck him before he could hit her. He quickly straightened himself up and walked out of the home. He walked to his car as he wiped his tears. Leaving the house with her still alive in it, took a lot of strength not to kill her. He looked in the rearview mirror and checked his face, wiping any excess tears. He straightened his glasses and started the car, backing out of the driveway. She's not getting away with this alive. Hizashi wont allow it. He can't hurt her unfortunately because It'll cost him his career. But he'll find a way. If she wont show you the love appreciation that you deserve then he will, and so will sho and toshi.
He called toshinori who wasn’t picking up and decided to call shota instead. He was so angry and upset he didn't even bother checking the cameras when Toshi didn't answer. Little did he know that he should have.
With a couple of rings shota picks up. Without wasting time he speaks “sho i'm going to take a street parole shift for tonight.” he waits for shota to answer. “Why?'' Hizashi thinks about everything and huffs. “Someone called off and there isn’t anyone to take over, so I decided to.” he lied. “Ok then, i’ll see you late tonight then?'' Hizashi nods. “Yes.”
“Ok is there anything else you called me for?” Hizashi hovers his finger over the end call button on his steering wheel before saying “no, I just wanted to inform you of that. I love you goodbye.” then clicked the button, ending the call. He’s working tonight because he can't go home and have you see him like this. He wanted to spend tonight with you especially after what just happened. So he’ll just have to make it up to you tomorrow and stay home from work.
He began grabbing all of his outfit accessories from the passenger seat and put them on as he drove to the hero agency where he would be spending the rest of his day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The air was freezing as it hit your face along with sprinkles of rain that were getting heavier by the minute. You can't breathe anymore from how long and fast you’ve been running, even stepping on a few spikey seed pods on the ground with your bare feet, but you never stopped running. You can't feel your legs anymore. Your Lungs are cold and heavy in your chest. You must keep going. Wait, I found it. The gate at the end of the driveway. You started to slow down as you approached it. You looked frantically behind you as you came to a stop in front of it. You would never know if he followed you out here, since the fog is too heavy to see through.
The humidity does nothing to aid your breathing, as the rain picks up. Turning around you begin to scan your surroundings as the rain begins to violently soak everything around. Your hair and clothes are now soaking wet and heavy.
The bars are too close together, and you can't climb them since they were built to be sharp at the top. The walls were made of bricks with barbed wire at the top. Fuck. You look over and see a “private property” and “smile for the camera” sign on the side of the gate. Looking above the signs you see a giant camera facing you. There must be cameras on both sides. Your brows knit in anger as you lift your middle finger to the camera.
Trying but getting stuck when you try to squeeze through the bars. Anger taking over as you used whatever strength you had to get yourself unstuck, ultimately flying and landing in a huge puddle of rainwater. You stared at the gray sky that sported a huge flash of lightning, and a few moments later the loudest sound of thunder you have ever heard in your life. You couldn’t help but sob. “Please, just please.” you prayed and spoke to whoever was listening. Taking a deep breath, you got up and looked over at a tree that was super close to the wall. Perfect. You ran over to the tree and began climbing it. Thank God for your tree climbing skills that you got when you were a kid. You got to the top and crawled along a branch that would take you to the other side. Almost there. “BAM”
Everything around you shook. The branch bounced and caused you to fall, almost face planting into the barbed wire. Your body slammed into a large puddle on the ground. You were covered from head to toe in mud. There's no time to waste, you thought to yourself as you scrambled to stand up. You thought nothing of the large sound that happened, thinking that it was just thunder. You turned around and your heart stopped beating. Toshinori stood there in his might form, staring down at you. Looking up in fear, you backed up as his hulking form loomed over you.
The shadows covering his eyes perfectly made him look more frightening. He breathed deep and heavy with anger as the rain bounces off of his huge form. Neon blue irises peered at you through the shadows around his eyes, making you realize that the sound that you thought was thunder was actually him hitting the ground from out of the sky. Looking down you noticed the mud scattered everywhere and a huge divot in the ground under his feet from the impact.
You stumble backwards from the large man. Only causing him to take a step forward for every step that you took back. The ground vibrates under you with every step that you take. Eventually backing up into the brick wall with nowhere to go. He is towered over you, seething. The only thing that you can do now is beg. “P-please, im sorry, i-i-i did not mean t-to hurt you.” great now you're stuttering. You raise your hands up in defense. “You know I wouldn't mean to hurt you. Please. I have to go home, i-i miss my mom, and my life, i h-have to go home please. Please.” you stuttered and begged through your sobs.
The begs of mercy and pleas fell upon deaf ears. Almost like they were bouncing off of a wall as he just stood there staring at you, not making a single sound. Nothing worse than the silence. Nothing can be heard but the pitter patter sounds of rain hitting every surface around the both of you and the occasional sound of thunder. He reaches forward and you shriek. Dodging his grip and running for your life. You knew your fate was sealed as the ground below you failed you with slippery mud. Slipping and falling on your ass multiple times didn't stop you from getting up to run. He wasn’t running, he was walking slowly towards your small frail frame as you ran like your life depended on it. He walked like a killer from a movie. Slow and taunting like.
You slipped one last time. And he caught up to you. A shriek pierced the air as he grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you to your feet from the roots of your head. He got a mere inch from your face and stared into your soul. He was so close that you could feel the air from his nostrils on your face. You couldn’t help but sob and bring your arms above your head to try to pry his large hand off of your scalp, only causing more pain for yourself. His voice causes you to freeze. “You have disappointed me y/n l/n”. His voice was terrifyingly calm. Without a second longer he threw you into the air and caught you before jumping off of the ground and using the force of his strength to fly into the air towards the house. A loud scream of “NO” erupted from you as he jumped off the ground.
This was horrifying. You were already scared of heights and you could see the earth below you as you flew 3000 ft into the air. So that's how he got to where you were. He flew. But how did he know exactly where you were in the huge messy forest surrounding the driveway. You missed the cameras that were planted all over the forest that were facing right at you, pinpointing every location you were. The landing felt like it could have killed you with the force of impact. He straightened his body after landing and walked to the back of the house where the glass door that you ran through. He walked carefully through the door to make sure that he can fit through it without having to drop you or change his size. He was successful. You watched as your freedom slipped away from your fingers like sand as he closed the door.
It was almost 7pm and shota began packing up everything. The kids were dismissed hours ago, but he needed to finish leftover work that hasn't been done since the incident of you being ‘kidnapped’ by izuku. Man, he's hungry. Should he pick something up to bring home? Nah cooking sounds good, even though he's absolutely exhausted. He hasn’t had homemade meals in a while other than this morning. Too much takeout lately. He smirked at the thought of you watching him while he's in the kitchen with an apron on. He noticed the way you looked at him this morning when he was wearing nothing but boxers.
He held onto that thought as he exited the building with his bag, only to stop as he saw the heavy rain pouring. Yeesh he shouldn’t have parked so far away. He raised his bag over his head to protect him from the rain as he jogged to his car. He quickly unlocked his car and jumped in as he tossed his bag to the passenger seat. Shota took a deep breath as he watched the unbearably heavy rain bounce off of his windshield. Jeez. He took his phone out to shoot a text to toshi that he's on his way home now. Toshi replied quickly with a thumbs up. Shota was satisfied with Toshi's answer and put the phone down before starting the car and turning the windshield wipers on at the highest level, before driving off.
The drive home sucked. The amount of times that idiots almost hit him from every angle is horrendous. Something about the rain makes people drive like fucking morons. He pulled up to the gates and showed the camera his face and it unlocked the gates for him. He takes a deep breath as the gates slowly open, hoping he doesn't come home to any surprises because you misbehaved in any way shape or form. He presses on the gas and makes his way down the driveway. After about 5 minutes the house comes into view. “Hmm, not burned down. That's a good sign.” He reaches the house and stops the car. He turns the car off and takes the keys out of the ignition. Reaching over he grabs his bag to hover over his head again as he exits the vehicle in the pouring rain. He reaches the door and unlocks all 3 locks and types in a passcode before being let in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were terrified as you laid strapped down and chained to your bed. Toshinori is lying beside you watching tv with his fingers intertwined on his chest. Giving you the occasional glare. He was disappointed that it got to the point where he had to break out the straps and make you completely immobile. You know something is waiting for you. You both perk up when you both hear the sound of the front door being opened. Your heart beats heavier than before. “Shota’s home.” toshinori said as he got up and walked out, leaving you alone in the room. No no no no what's going to happen to me?
After what seemed like half an hour, the door opened and Shota stepped in, and shut the door calmly. He slowly stalked towards your bed, and stood at the end of it. Putting both of his hands on the bed frame and leaning on it towards you. His raven hair falling over his shoulders as he glared at you. Eyes glowing just slightly red. You can tell that he’s had a rough day. This cannot be good. Panic rose in your soul as you tried to find the right words to plead. You were about to open your mouth but quickly zipped it when he noticed words were about to come out of your mouth and gripped the bed frame even harder causing it to creak in protest and crack open. Long cracks shooting across the frame. His eyes are getting redder and redder. He looked up and took a deep breath before calmly taking his hands off of the frame and standing up straight.
Shota looked down at your ankles. Gently guiding his hand to ghost over your feet.
“I was hoping that you would behave tonight. Now it looks like toshi is going to make dinner while I keep you company”. He ran his index finger along the bottom of your foot, tickling you, causing your foot to jerk. He quickly grabbed it harshly and yanked it to him. He stared into your soul menacingly as his rough, scarred hands held your foot in an iron clasp grip. “Please i-”
His raven hair started to float when more noise left your mouth, causing you to quickly shut it.
He sighed heavily before speaking in a low unnerving tone.
“I don't want to do this, but I'm left with no choice. I can't let you off scott free with just a few ‘im sorrys’. You won't learn anything.” He squeezed your foot even harder, to the point of snapping it in half. “Your actions have consequences. And hopefully this lesson will stick in that fucking head of yours.” He then grabbed the second ankle and looked you dead in the eyes before gripping them both tightly with the strength only a god could have before snapping both of your ankles in different directions causing horrendous damage to your bones. White hot pain shot through your ankles and legs. Your blood curdling screams fell of deaf ears as he dropped your ankles back onto the bed like they were nothing. The weight of them slamming back onto the bed causes you to scream louder.
Shota stalked over to you and tilted his head as he watched you sob with snot and drool running down your face. He reached down and gripped a handful of hair in his hand as he lifted your head roughly. “Look” you refused to open your eyes. “I SAID LOOK” the fear overtaking whatever was left of your body and to your dismay, you opened your eyes. He was showing you the work he was proud of. Horror filled your entire body as he spoke. “Look at that, can't go anywhere now huh”? Your face going pale as you stared down at your twisted fuck up ankles beyond repair. He slammed your head back down to the bed and got close to your ear so there was no way you couldn’t hear him. “Hopefully THIS” he says as he shakes your limp ankle causing you to wince in pure agony. “Will be a lesson that sticks, Because this is only a mere warning.”
You began to sob but he gripped your hair even tighter and shook your head. “Next time you wont have any fucking feet, and thats only if i feel generous enough to let you keep your whole legs.” He dropped your head and stood up straight. “Your grounded, no tv, tablet, board games, or whatever the fuck you do in your free time. Your going to be in this bed and never fucking leave it, not like you can anyway.” he chuckled to himself. He began to walk out before turning back to you. “No privacy either, this door stays open and if I catch it closed I'm going to take it off of its hinges, no bathroom time by yourself either, and no dinner.” he said as he walked out of the door to leave you in a sobbing broken mess on your own bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Man, it's soaking out here. Mic thought to himself as he patrolled the empty dark streets. The occasional grocery bag skidding across the pavement from the wind. He honestly wishes something would happen, time is moving way too slow for his liking. He can't help but think about your mother and what a vile human being she is. Then he thinks about you. He hopes everything is going ok at home. He fights the urge to call shota so check up on you, he's not supposed to be caught on his phone during patrols. His hair is soaking wet and has fallen flat a few hours ago when the rain was at its peak. It’ll be weird seeing THE present mic all dressed up but with his hair down and soaked.
Jeez can something happen please. He was bored out of his mind and he couldn’t take his mind off of your mothers words about you. A scream from the distance halted his thoughts. He perked up and ran immediately to the sound. It's coming from an alleyway. Typical. He walked into the alleyway still bored out of his mind, thinking that this is some cliche everyday robber. “Hey buddy why don't you put the purse down and maybe i’ll le-” mic freezes as the criminal turns his head and peers at him. It's the serial killer that nobody can seem to catch. The very one that kidnaps people and leaves the corpses in america. That same killer that his husband and fiance framed for the “death” of their darling in that hotel room. His face goes pale.
Before mic can say anything the killer drops what he was doing and lunges forward, knocking mic onto his ass. Mic got up and landed a few blows before picking him up and swinging him around and slamming him to the alleyway walls. He held onto the killer's shirt as he continually punched him knocking a few teeth loose. He slammed his head into the wall and held it there as he twisted his arm behind his back and got close to his ear. “It’s over buddy, you’ve been caught. Do you feel guilty? All of those lives you took?” he asks as he took restraints out of his pocket and detained him, throwing him to the ground.
The killer spit up some blood before answering with a big smile that was missing some teeth. “No, never.” mic rolled his eyes while he kept an eye on him and took his phone out ready to dial the police and turn him in. As he was dialing the man spoke up. “Hey hey hey, no need for that man. I can do whatever you want or KILL whoever you want.” mic froze and looked up at him. Ideas coming into mind. The killer noticed the look on mics face.
“Yeah, I can tell you have someone in mind, come on, who is it? All you gotta do is give me a name.” Mic shook his head and put his thumb over the call button, But for some reason he couldn’t press it.
Mike's head was racing. It all halted when the killer interrupted. “Look, you obviously want someone dead mr “hero”. So I'll make a deal, yeah? I’ll wipe out whoever you want and you will let me go, almost like we never crossed paths, yeah”? He tilted his head and looked up at mic. Who was seriously considering it. The killer almost scoffs at how easy it is to manipulate mic.
“Well?” He tilts his head and looks at him expectantly. Mic completely caved. “I want you to murder this woman named (mothers name) that lives on (address).” The restrained man looks up and smiles. Bingo. “How do you want it done”? He asked. Mic began to smile like a maniac. “I want it to be the most brutal work you’ve ever done.” He laughed and smiled to the point where the killer himself got a little creeped out. He must be losing his mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mic sits and waits in his car at the end of your mothers driveway. He stares at his steering wheel. He went through with it, he a “HERO” actually negotiated with a serial killer. It must be done. He thinks to himself. Full on delusion taking over.
He took the restraints off of the killer and negotiated with him. Setting a due date for TONIGHT. No other time or day. Their plan was to let him go to do what needs to be done, and then mic will follow and make sure that the person is actually dead before “officially” setting him free. Mic laughed to himself in the car. God that killer is gullible. He doesn’t actually think mic is gonna let him go does he? His thoughts were interrupted by faint screams. He looks up and can see shadows moving violently behind the window blinds.
Anxiety rises in mic and he begins to look around. Eventually the screams stop, and he steps out of the car making sure no one sees him or is outside.
He straightens himself up and walks over to the front door before opening it. He looks over his shoulder once more before closing the door behind him. Damn this house is a mess. There's blood everywhere. Eventually he reaches her corpse. Yep, definitely dead. He looks over and sees the man sitting at the table drinking sparkling water.
“Alright, you’ve seen her. She's dead. We’re good”? Mic nods his head and squats down to look closer at your mother. “Well I'm off then, it was good knowing ya.” the man gets up from the table and walks over to the door and stops. There was a coat rack. It's raining outside so might as well grab one. He begins sifting through all the coats to pick one out. Unaware that mic is creeping up on him. The man sees a shadow and turns around only to be struck on the head and knocked out.
He wakes up in a moving car. He tries to move but can't. Hes tied to the car seat. “HEY” he looks over and sees mic. “We had a deal, remember.” Mic looked over at him and laughed. In a spine tingling tone he answered. “You don't actually think i was gonna let you go, do you”? He said as he pulled into the police station.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shota and toshi eat peacefully at the table as you yell from upstairs. “You didn't give her pain meds?” toshi asked his fiance while chewing food. Shota scraped his fork on the plate a few times. “Nah, she needs to think about what she’s done.” he answered as he shoveled food onto his fork and ate it. He noticed the uncomfortable look on Toshi's face and looked up at the bandage on his head and pointed with his fork while chewing. “She needs to learn toshi, look at what she did to you.”
Toshi listened to what shota said and he reached a hand up to feel the bandage on his head from being hit earlier. He then remembered the event and agreed with his fiance. So then they continued to eat peacefully as you wailed throughout the house.
As dinner was almost over they heard the locks on the door shifting and eventually a tired worn out mic came through the door. Shota put his fork down and stood up and so did toshi. “Hey” shota said as he walked over to hizashi. “You alright, how was your day?” mic looked at him and smiled. “It was good, it was good,” he said, waving off the two.
Toshi kissed zashi after shota said his greetings. “Come eat with us, I made dinner.” toshi said, gesturing to the dinner table. Mic shook his head. “Nah, I gotta go see y/n, I haven't seen her all day.”
Shota looked over at toshi and gestured to him to go sit back down. Shota then grabbed hizashi’s wrist as he was trying to go see you. “Come eat.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dinner was peaceful. The food was delicious, and the conversations were fun. Just what mic needed after today. You haven’t wailed in an hour. They think you must have fallen asleep. Good, because shota is silently trying to find a way to break the news to his husband about what he did to you. Hizashi has always been the most emotional of the trio. All he could talk about was you at the table, things like “how is she, did she eat anything today, did she behave” shota and toshi just nodded and laughed along with zashi.
“Did she not come to eat?” zashi asked while chewing.
Sho and toshi looked at each other for a second before looking at zashi. “No she didnt” zashi looked confused. “Well why not, should I check on her?” he asked as he quickly put his fork down and began to stand up. Shota lunged forward quickly and grabbed his husband, sitting him back down. “ you haven’t finished your food baby”. Zashi looked at him confused. “I don't like this, shota what's going on?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“YOU WHAT?!”
You woke up from the sudden scream and lifted your head as you heard running up the stairs. HIzashi came running into your room and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you laying there with twisted, swollen ankles. Snot dried on your face, puffy red eyes, and messy hair.
He was mortified. He looked back down at your feet. He’s no doctor but he's pretty sure they aren't supposed to bend that way. Shota and toshi come trailing behind him. You looked at them with tears in your eyes. Your head was pounding and your throat was sore from the wailing.
Hizashi turned towards the men. “How could you?” shota rolled his eyes. “It needed to be done, I already told you what she did. You can't keep being soft on her, that's how shit like this happens. Look at what she did to toshi” he said, pointing to the bandage on his head.
Hizashi walked over to you and brushed the hair out of your face and coddled you. Shota scoffed at his husband's reaction. “If you had just listened to me” , Hizashi looked up in rage. “Get out.” toshi then cut in between the two. “Look I understand-” Hizashi jumped up. “I SAID GET OUT!” toshi stopped and put his hands up and walked out leaving shota still in the room. “You too.” hizashi pointed at him with hurt in his expression. “Hiz-” “NOW” shota was stunned but complied and walked out leaving hizashi with you.
“Its ok, everythings gonna be ok” he said as he slowly began losing his mind. He brushed the hair out of your face and ran to get pain meds and water. Completely avoiding shota as he followed him around the house trying to lecture him about just leaving you alone and that you need to suffer to learn. Hizashi completely ignored him. He grabbed a pair of clothes to change into and other necessities, including a plate of food to feed you.
Hizashi slammed your door in shota’s face and ran over to you. “Here take these”. He said as he gave you pain meds and water. “This is gonna hurt ok”? He said as he grabbed a stack of pillows to elevate your feet on. Wincing at the wails of pain that came from you. “It’s ok, i'm gonna stay right here.” he said as he walked over and grabbed the plate of food that he left on his nightstand and sat down next to you and fed you. After feeding you and putting a blanket over you, he stood up and walked over to the other side of the bed and changed his clothes.
He then got under the covers with you and cuddled you. “It's ok” he said over and over again as he shushed your cries. It was like that until the both of you fell asleep.
The rays of sun beaming from your window caused you to wake up. You look over and see that hizashi has gotten up and straightened the bed back up and cleaned up the dishes from your nightstand. You smell something amazing in the air, but then remembered what happened to you last night and a wave of nausea hits you like a train. You lay your head down and breathe trying to think of anything else while the three men ate breakfast at the table downstairs.
Hizashi is so angry at shota right now it's not even funny. But he still loves him dearly with all of his heart. So he still kisses him on the cheek and serves him breakfast. Hizashi is always the most emotional out of the trio. So it's damn near impossible for him to ever see eye to eye on shota’s discipline. Pretty much like the fun dad and mean mom. So he will never understand the ankle breaking option that shota chose. Hizashi will never agree with shota’s punishments and will never use them on you himself. He hasn’t quite had a change of heart yet, But if you keep it up, he just might.
He kissed shota and toshi before sending them off to work and waving them goodbye from the porch. They wanted to see you before work, but hizashi wouldn’t allow it. Telling them to give it time. After the cars roll off he takes a deep breath and walks back into the house and cleans up their dishes and tries to find ways to forgive shota while washing them. He then took a plate that he made you out of the microwave and headed upstairs with it.
You heard a few knocks on the door before it opened. You look over and see your soon to be husband walk in holding a plate of food and some juice. Long golden hair wrapped in a low bun, green iris’s lighting up behind his glasses, while wearing a tight black shirt that has a rock band on it, and black and red patterned pj pants.
He smiles bright at you and mouths a “hey” at you while he walks towards you quietly. He sets the plate and cup on your nightstand and bends down to help you sit up. He whispers gently to you “good morning”. He rubs your head when you groan in pain. “I got some food for ya, I think you should eat, songbird.” he says while sitting on the side of the bed to then lay a hand on your legs and start rubbing it in a comforting way. “There's a doctor coming over in a few hours to give you a cast and help you with your ankles so they can heal properly. “ he says as he bends over to grab the food off the nightstand table.
He grabs the fork and shovels some food on it. “Say ah” you roll your eyes, but do it anyway. You take the food off of the fork when he puts it in your mouth and chew. It's spicy. He looks at you expectantly and smiles. “Good?” you nod and he's practically beaming. It was boring while you ate. You weren't allowed to watch tv or read any books or even walk in that matter. That's the only thing about this punishment that hizashi can kind of agree on. So he won't let you do any of those things either. He understands that what you did is bad, so he won't let you get away with it completely. Mid meal, Hizashi started ranting about his husband and toshi. The room was too quiet and he thought that you would make a good listener.
You were surprised most of the conversation, chewing slowly and listening closely as mic ranted about them. Learning new things about them and the things that they did, who they are as people. Shota sounded terrifying. How does mic even sleep with him? Is he a victim? The conversation started when he started talking about your ankles, then he started getting riled up and started venting. Then eventually the conversation circled back to the beginning where he was before he trailed off.
He shoveled the last bit of food on the fork and pointed at you. “Fuck what shota thinks, he believes that you shouldn’t wear a cast or get your ankles fixed. He wants you broken. Toshi disagrees with it too, but he's a pussy. He’s scared of shota. Shotas is pretty much the man of the house.” He said while he raised his arm with the fork in it in a mocking way.
He finally put the fork in your mouth before finishing his rant. “Shota’s gonna kill me when he sees the cast on you.” you chew slightly traumatized but alas, you swallow it. “Alrighty then” he says smiling at you while he gathers up the plate and cup and walks out of your room. Leaving you there to think about what he said about the others.
Hizashi will never tell them that he was the reason behind the death of your mother. That will follow him to the grave. As much as he got in shota’s face for what he did to you, He himself did something just as dreadful. He feels like a hypocrite. Even though that woman deserved the worst, she didn't deserve death. No one does. He stands and thinks about that as he washes your dishes. Starting to regret what he did. He’s never killed anyone, honest. But she lit something up in him. He loved you too much for that. Love will make you do some crazy things won't it?
He headed towards the back of the house. There's a big room, a perfect room to make an ‘at home’ recording studio. So he’ll be able to do his third job at home to spend more time with you.
The boxes were already in there filled with everything that the studio needed, and that's how both of your days went. You spent it in bed while he was building his studio. After he finished building his studio, he took a step back and admired his work. Perfect.
The next thing on his ‘to do’ list is to fix the lock from the door you ran out of and put more security on the locks.
He grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge and took a few sips. “Shit might as well drill all the fucking doors shut.” he thought to himself as he threw his hands up exaggeratingly.
He was in the middle of fixing the lock on the door when he heard a knock at the front door. He dropped the tools and walked through the house while wiping his dirty hands on his pants before he opened the door. It was the doctor. One that hizashi is paying very well to keep his mouth shut about what he sees.
He greeted the doctor and let him in and started working on your ankles. Hizashi decided to go back downstairs and finish the door so he wouldn't hear your yells of pain.
Hizashi fixed the lock and then decided to put more security on the others. He was on his knees at the front door, playing with the lock. “AHEM” hizashi turns around and sees the doctor. “Oh, sorry.” He says as he gets up and opens the door to let him out. He turned around and said “everything is perfectly fine, but from the looks of it, don't let her walk for a few weeks.” hizashi nodded and sparked a 5 minute conversation with him while you laid in bed upstairs crying from everything that you went through and had to go through.
They both laughed and waved goodbye before he came back into the house. He then began walking upstairs to check on you. He opened the door and saw you laying down with tears in your eyes. “Hey what's the matter”? He asked. Oh as if he didnt know. “The doctor gave you cute casts and you're sad?” he said while rubbing them. This is the most frustrating thing ever.
You just ignored him and closed your eyes while he was assuming that the others pissed you off and he was the “good” guy.
“I want to go home,” Hizashi's head snapped up. “What”? You looked at him with rage in your face. “I. WANT. TO. GO. HOME!” He stood up and backed up.
“What, why? After all I do for you? We’re gonna live a good, long, happy life. We’re gonna get some pets, and make babies and have a big happy family here”
He’s honestly really delusional. You sat yourself up and yelled louder. “All you do for me? What did you possibly do to benefit me huh? Huh, Hizashi Yamada?” you screeched. He was losing his mind. He was pacing around the room. Just spiraling every second. You could see it on its face. It was almost enough to make you back down. He might be the softest, but he's the scariest, the most mentally ill. But you kept going. “IM GONNA KILL ALL OF YOU AND BURN YOUR DEAD BODIES AND RUN AW-” Before you could finish he snapped. Turning around and harshly pointing at you “YOU ARE HOME” his face red with rage. You jumped a little from the booming voice. He began to walk closer while still pointing. “YOU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE! DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND ME? ANYWHERE! THIS IS YOUR HOME NOW SO YOU BETTER FUCKING GET USED TO IT!” he said as he grabbed you harshly and yanked you out of bed. “HEY, HEY” you screamed as he dragged you through the house all the way down to the basement. “NO PLEASE” you screamed as he dragged you down the stairs and into the darkness of the basement. The only light is the open door. He threw you to the ground near a metal pipe and wrapped chains around you. “Please i'll be good, i'm so sorry”
All of your pleas fell on deaf ears as he tightened the chains and yanked on them to make sure that it was tight enough. He then stood up straight and began to walk out. “This is your home. Now think about what you’ve done.” and with that he slammed the door closed. Leaving you in complete cold darkness.
As much as you hate it, believe it or not, this….this is your life now.
“What are you talking about? I’m not neglected. My family’s just… busy.”
Your friend stared at you like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Dude, you called me crying at 8 p.m. because no one picked you up after the study tour.”
You blinked, confused, defensive — or maybe just tired.
“…Well—sorry. And… thank you, I guess.”
He sighed, softer this time, like he didn’t want to hurt you.
“I’m not mad. We just… wish you’d stop pretending this is normal.”
And maybe it wasn’t normal.
Maybe you’d just lived that way long enough to think it was.
Content : BatSib!Reader x ATSV
You started your day the way you always did: waking up to an empty room and the soft hum of something distant, the air purifier, maybe, or just silence pretending to be company. There was no greeting waiting for you, no breakfast on the table.
'Alfred is probably still asleep,' you told yourself. It made sense; you always woke up the earliest. You’d long learned that mornings belonged to you alone.
You made toast without thinking, moving through the kitchen like a ghost who knew the layout by muscle memory. A cup left on the counter, a half-opened folder, a jacket draped over a chair, traces of lives that brushed past yours without ever settling beside you. Just enough to remind you that people lived here. That you were not, technically, alone.
'Everyone’s probably still asleep,' you thought, neither disappointed nor surprised.
By the time you stepped outside, the sky was still soft with early light, and you slipped into the quiet road. It was peaceful in a way that made sense: no noise, no rush, no one calling after you. Normal. Predictable. Safe, even.
When you reached your classroom, you set your bag down, pulled out your chair, and sat without much thought. The room was still empty. Quiet, like the morning at home. You simply waited, waited for your friends to arrive, waited for voices, waited for something to feel a little more alive than the morning you had just lived through.
You didn’t have to wait long.
The classroom door swung open with the soft scrape of sneakers on polished floor, and Miles stepped in first, hair still slightly messy, uniform half-tucked like he’d gotten dressed while sprinting. He brightened the moment he saw you.
“Yo, you’re early! Again,” he said, dropping his bag beside the desk in front of yours.
You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Miles blinked. “Man… that’s the third time this week.”
Before you could come up with an explanation that sounded less concerning, Gwen slipped into the room behind him. Her headphones hung around her neck, and her hoodie sleeves were pushed up just enough to show smudges of paint or bruises. Knowing Gwen, it could be either.
“Morning,” she said, offering a small wave before sliding into the seat next to you. Her eyes flicked over your expression, scanning you in that quiet way she did when she was worried but didn’t want you to notice.
“You eat yet?” she asked.
“Yeah,” you lied easily. Toast barely counted, but it sounded better than nothing.
Miles slumped into his chair backward, arms draped over the backrest. “You know, normal people sleep in. Or like… get picked up, or dropped off, or—”
Gwen kicked his foot lightly, giving him a look. “Miles.”
“What?” he whispered back, then turned to you with a softer voice. “I’m just saying. You’re always here alone.”
You blinked, not seeing the issue. “I always wake up early. My family’s busy. It’s normal.”
Miles and Gwen exchanged a glance, a quick, wordless conversation you weren’t meant to hear. The kind where concern lived in the silence between their expressions.
You didn’t understand it. To you, this morning felt just like every other morning.
Life was never meant to be perfect, there’s happiness and there’s sadness, and everyone gets a different portion of each. Maybe yours was simple: joy with friends, and “just fine” at home. So when your family seemed to overlook you, it didn’t feel like a wound. It just felt… expected. Something you accepted without protest.
After all, if you never had much to begin with, there was nothing to lose.
So when they forgot you, or missed you, or simply didn’t show up, the only thing you could think was:
It’s okay. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.
______________________________________
Lunch was loud for everyone except the three of you. Miles had slid his tray across from you, Gwen sitting beside him, both quieter than usual. You didn’t think much of it, you were focused on peeling the wrapper off your sandwich, pretending not to notice the way they kept glancing at each other. It felt like they were waiting for the right moment, or maybe for you to say something first. But you just ate in small bites, content with the familiar silence. To you, nothing was wrong. It was just another lunch.
Lunch at Gotham Academy was always chaotic, trays clattering, people shouting across tables, chairs scraping harshly against the floor. But somehow, at your table, everything felt muted. Quieter. Like the noise of the cafeteria dimmed itself the moment you sat down.
Miles dropped into the seat across from you, his backpack hitting the floor with a dull thud that sounded heavier than it should have. His eyes kept drifting toward you, then away, like he was rehearsing something in his head. Gwen sat beside him, shoulders tight, fingers fidgeting with the wrapper of her granola bar. She wasn’t really eating, neither of them were.
You noticed none of it.
Your gaze drifted across the room instead, catching the sight of Tim laughing quietly with his friends, a rare smile slipping through his usually exhausted expression. A bit further, Damian walked in with that sharp, clipped stride that always made people instinctively part out of his way. He looked like he had just finished intimidating an entire classroom.
You poked at your lunch, peeling open packets and taking small, slow bites as if nothing strange was happening at your table. The quiet didn’t bother you; it wrapped around you in a way that felt familiar, almost comforting. You didn’t understand why Miles kept shifting restlessly, or why Gwen kept nudging his shoe under the table. Whatever was bothering them, it didn’t seem like something you needed to think about.
Miles opened his mouth once, ready to speak, then immediately shut it again. Gwen nudged him harder, her expression tightening in frustration as he shot her a pleading look. You watched them with mild confusion, not quite following their silent conversation. You didn’t ask, choosing instead to take another bite of your sandwich and let the tension pass you by.
The silence stretched long enough that you finally looked up. Miles stared at you like he was choosing his words with painful precision, while Gwen looked torn between stopping him or forcing him forward. You still didn’t understand why they were acting like this. It was just lunch, just another typical day.
Then Miles inhaled deeply, his shoulders stiffening. “So… do you want to talk about why you called Hobie at 9 P.M. a few days ago?” he asked, his voice careful but strained.
You blinked at him, genuinely confused. “What are you talking about? I never called Hobie at nine. I was asleep. Slept great, actually.”
Miles froze, and Gwen’s expression fell sharply. They exchanged a look filled with worry rather than annoyance, but you barely registered it. Or maybe you did and brushed it off before it could matter. You quickly redirected, saying, “Shouldn’t we talk about you two disappearing last weekend? You vanished without telling me anything.”
Miles stared at you in disbelief, and Gwen exhaled shakily. “Reader,” she said, her voice trembling with contained anger, “Hobie told us you were calling him while crying at nine p.m., at the bus stop, begging him not to hang up and to pick you up.”
You flinched at her tone, leaning forward in panic. “Ssst—Gwen, lower your voice! Don’t be so loud, seriously, we’ll look ridiculous.”
You glanced around quickly, relieved when only a few students looked your way before turning back to their meals. Still, heat crawled up your neck from the attention. Miles and Gwen exchanged another look, one that said they knew something was deeply wrong. You still didn’t see it or refused to.
Miles leaned in, voice soft but desperate. “When will you tell us what’s really going on?”
You tightened your grip on your drink and muttered, “I’ll tell you. Just… later.”
Miles frowned, pressing again, “Later when?”
“Later,” you repeat
______________________________________
You didn’t spend much time with anyone at school besides Miles and Gwen, they were the only constant presence in your otherwise quiet routine. The halls were always full of chatter and overlapping conversations, but you often felt like you were walking through an aquarium watching everything through glass.
After school, you usually slipped out as soon as the bell rang, heading home before you could accidentally get caught in someone’s plans. Miles and Gwen always seemed to have mysterious after-school activities, but you never pushed for details. You simply assumed that this was how friendships naturally worked.
As you shut your locker, Miles approached with a careful smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He slung his bag over his shoulder, his fingers tapping restlessly against the strap in a rhythm that betrayed his nerves. Gwen joined him, her sketchbook pressed against her chest, her gaze flickering between you and Miles like she was bracing for impact.
For a moment, the corridor felt too still, as if the noise around you shrank away from the tension gathering between the three of you. You didn’t know what they were hesitating to say, you didn’t even consider the possibility that it involved you.
“Reader, are you heading straight home after this?” Miles finally asked, voice trying too hard to sound casual.
“Yeah, I think so,” you replied with a small shrug, not sensing the weight behind the question. You zipped your bag calmly, oblivious to the exchanged look behind your back.
Gwen stepped closer, lowering her voice. “What about the conversation at lunch?” she asked softly. Her tone was gentle, but her eyes were too earnest to ignore.
Your breath caught for a moment before you forced yourself to smile. “O-oh… that? We’ll talk later.” You waved your hand lightly, pretending the topic was too trivial to address right now.
Miles frowned. “Later when?”
“Later,” you repeated quickly, the word feeling like a shield you clung to. “Don’t you guys have stuff to do? You always do.” You smiled again, but this time it wobbled just a little, and you hoped they wouldn’t notice.
They shared another long look one full of silent communication and mutual dread. Then Gwen sighed, shoulders deflating. “Okay… this weekend, if you’re not busy.” She sounded relieved and heartbroken all at once.
“Great,” you said, genuinely meaning it. “We can invite the others too, maybe go hang out somewhere.” In truth, you still didn’t understand how they always managed to leave Gotham so quickly, or why their video call backgrounds looked like entirely different worlds. You just assumed they lived interesting lives.
When you reached the school gate, Miles slowed his steps, glancing at your bike chained neatly to a pole. “So… you’re biking home today?”
“Yeah,” you answered casually. “Sometimes I take the bus, but today I brought my bike.”
Gwen tilted her head. “You ride home alone? Why not go with your brothers?” She paused. “The youngest—Damian, right? He always gets picked up at the front gate. Why don’t you just go with him?”
Miles winced, and Gwen immediately elbowed him, but the question was already hanging in the air.
You laughed softly, because to you, the answer was obvious. “Damian just moved to Gotham not long ago. He might get lost on his own,” you explained with a smile. “And if Dick’s driving him, they probably already have plans. They’re close. I’d just make it awkward if I tagged along.” You shrugged, adding lightly, “I don’t want to third-wheel my own family, right?”
Miles stopped walking entirely, and Gwen’s eyes widened with something close to disbelief. They exchanged a look so sharp and full of realization that even you felt the shift in the air, though you didn’t understand why. The silence thickened, pressing against your ribs.
“This is… worse than I thought,” Gwen muttered under her breath.
You blinked, confused. “Why? It’s normal. Older siblings are usually closer to the youngest. The rest of us just… fill the gaps.” You said it gently, almost cheerfully, as though stating a fact that had never hurt you.
You didn’t see their expressions tighten, or the way Miles’s jaw dropped slightly. You didn’t notice Gwen’s eyes soften with pity she tried to hide.
All three of you stood there for a moment, exchanging looks that carried entirely different meanings.
You saw nothing strange in what you’d said.
But Miles and Gwen saw everything you couldn’t.
______________________________________
Weekend came slower than you expected.
By the time you reached the small café Gwen had chosen tucked between two old Gotham buildings and glowing with warm yellow lights you could already see them waiting inside. Miles waved the moment he spotted you through the window, his smile bright but a little too forced around the edges. Gwen was beside him, arms crossed, tapping her foot anxiously against the floor. Hobie lounged across two chairs like gravity had given up on him, Pavitr sat upright with perfect posture, and Peni was scrolling through something on her device, though her eyes kept flickering toward the entrance as if checking for you.
The bell above the door chimed softly as you stepped in, and suddenly five pairs of eyes found you all at once. For a moment, the room felt warmer not just from the heaters but from the sudden burst of welcome you weren’t used to receiving. Pavitr was the first to stand, greeting you with a wide grin that could melt winter air. Hobie lifted one hand lazily in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable but sharper than usual.
“Reader!” Miles called, pushing his chair back as if he wasn’t sure whether he should hug you or just wave. You smiled back, easing into the scene without sensing the cloud hovering above the group. To you, it was just a weekend hangout.
Gwen motioned for you to sit beside her, sliding a warm cup of something toward your spot at the table. “We already ordered for you,” she said, watching your reaction carefully. “Hope that’s alright.”
“Of course,” you said easily, placing your bag down. “Thanks. It’s nice to see everyone together for once.”
The table fell quiet not awkward, but anticipatory, like everyone was waiting for the starting note of a song they all knew but you didn’t. Pavitr exchanged a glance with Hobie, Peni’s fingers paused over her device. Miles rested his elbows on the table, studying you like he was checking for cracks he couldn’t point out yet.
You didn’t notice.
You just smiled, unaware of the weight pooling in the space between all of them.
“So!” you said brightly. “What’s the plan?”
Five friends looked at each other.
And you could almost feel the moment they decided:
Today was the day they would stop letting you run from the truth.
The shift in the café became impossible to ignore once you started speaking. Gwen leaned forward almost unconsciously, her fingers tightening around her cup as if she needed something to anchor herself. Miles sat with his eyes glued to you, his posture tense, like each word you said pulled a string tighter inside his chest. Pavitr’s smile faded into a worried crease, and Peni slowly lowered her device, her expression going still. Even Hobie always relaxed, always unreadable straightened in his seat, his gaze sharpening.
“Alright… I guess you won't stop asking unless I tell you,” you said with a small, tired shrug. You didn’t mean it dramatically; it was simply the truth. “That day after the study tour… I told my family to pick me up around five. At the meeting point.” You tried to keep your tone light, but the words felt heavier in the air than you expected.
No one interrupted you.
They all froze, listening too closely.
“But no one came,” you continued, fingers idly tracing a circle on the table. “People left one by one, and it got dark. I was hungry, and my calls went straight to voicemail. My battery was at… one percent? Maybe less. I just remember staring at it and hoping it wouldn’t die.” You smiled awkwardly at the memory, as if laughing at your own bad luck.
Miles’s jaw clenched so hard you heard his teeth grind. Gwen inhaled sharply, her eyes already glassy with frustration. Pavitr pressed a hand to his chest, like the story physically hurt. Peni’s brows pinched together, her lips parting in disbelief. Hobie muttered something under his breath—something sharp, angry, and definitely not meant for you.
You kept going, oblivious. “I thought about calling you guys. Your names were the first thing in my head, actually.” You laughed faintly. “But you two were losing signal all week, so I figured you were busy or out of town or something.”
Gwen’s grip around her cup slowly tightened until her knuckles turned white, as if she were physically holding herself back.
Miles leaned forward, lips parting, then closing again like he was swallowing something sharp and bitter.
Pavitr’s shoulders slumped, the brightness in his posture dimming into a quiet ache.
Peni set her tablet down entirely, her usual energy gone, replaced by wide, stunned eyes.
Hobie tilted his head slightly, jaw clenching, one finger tapping the table with a quiet, dangerous rhythm.
“And it’s Gotham,” you said lightly. “Walking home at night is basically a death wish. So I… panicked a little. And somehow, I ended up calling Hobie. And that’s it. End of story. Tamat deh!”
The silence that followed wasn’t normal silence.
It was thick. Heavy. Almost suffocating.
Miles finally found his voice, barely. “How—how does no one in your family pick up your calls?” His voice cracked on the last word.
You shrugged, genuinely confused at the intensity in his tone. “You know how my dad is busy. Dick was in Blüdhaven. Jason, Cass, Duke? No clue. And Tim never brings his phone into the manor.” You scratched your cheek sheepishly. “And I mean, it's not like I’d ask Damian.”
“Why not?” Gwen whispered. Her voice trembled not from fear, but from anger she was trying to swallow.
You blinked, chuckling. “He’s a kid, Gwen. He’d get lost, and then I’d be the problem. It’d be awkward for both of us.”
For the first time, Hobie leaned forward sharply.
His eyes cut into you with a fierceness that made the others flinch.
“And Alfred?” Miles asked, voice breaking. “The butler. The older man who takes care of your house. Why didn’t you call him?”
“Oh—Alfred?” you said brightly, as if the question was harmless. “He’s old. Probably tired. The manor’s big, and he handles everything alone. I didn’t want to bother him.”
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
You finally looked up from your drink—and their faces hit you all at once: eyes widened, shoulders tense, shock carved into their expressions. You didn’t understand it. Their reactions felt too dramatic for something so small.
A small laugh slipped from your lips, an attempt to break the tension. “Hahaha come on, guys… relax. It’s all in the past. And I’m here now, right?” You spread your hands lightly, like you were reassuring children after a scary story. “Life isn’t always smooth. Stuff happens.”
But your words meant to comfort—only sounded more tragic in the quiet space between you.
Like someone making peace with pain they never should’ve carried alone.
And the five of them stared back at you, each realizing the same terrifying thing:
You truly believed this was normal.
pecah
Gwen leaned forward first, fingers laced together tightly. “Reader… when you say no one picked up the phone, do you mean literally no one? Not even a missed call?” Her voice was soft, but the strain beneath it was impossible to miss. You tilted your head, confused by her intensity.
Miles jumped in immediately. “Did you try calling more than once? Or did you just call each person one time?” He looked like he was trying to find a logical explanation—any explanation—that made your situation less awful. You only gave him a small shrug.
“Uh… yeah? I tried calling a few times. Maybe three or four, I don’t remember,” you answered honestly. “But it’s okay, they’re busy. I wasn’t dying or anything.” You laughed lightly, but no one else joined in.
Peni shifted closer, her eyebrows knitting together. “Did they know you were alone at night?” she asked quietly, her tone surprisingly serious. You blinked at her, unsure why she looked almost… scared. “I mean… yeah? I texted it,” you replied, rubbing your neck.
Pavitr placed a hand on the table, leaning forward. “Reader… did they respond to the text?” he asked gently. His eyes were warm, but there was something pleading in them. “Even just a ‘seen’? Anything?”
“I—um, no,” you admitted, scratching your cheek awkwardly. “But that’s not weird. They forget their phones a lot. Tim leaves his phone everywhere.” You smiled as if that solved everything, while Pavitr slowly sank back into his seat.
Hobie scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. “So you’re tellin’ me your whole bloody house—every adult there—forgot how to answer a phone?” His voice wasn’t yelling, but it was sharp enough to slice through the air. You stiffened, unsure why he sounded almost offended.
Miles took a shaky breath. “Did anyone at home check up on you afterward? Ask if you got back safely? Anything at all?” His voice sounded small, like he already knew the answer.
You thought about it for a moment. “Um… no?” you said, blinking. “But I mean, they probably assumed I made it back. I usually do.” You gave them a reassuring smile, unaware that every word made their expressions darken.
Gwen’s hand flew to her chest. “Reader… that’s not— that’s not normal,” she said softly, her voice almost breaking. But before she could finish, you cut her off with a laugh.
“Oh my god, you’re all acting like I was abandoned in a desert,” you joked, waving your hand dismissively. “Guys, it’s fine. I got home. I survived.”
They didn’t laugh.
Not even a smile.
Peni leaned in again, her voice tiny. “Were you crying before you called Hobie?”
You hesitated, confused by the question. “Well… yeah. I was scared? ok, It was dark.” You said it plainly, like stating the weather.
Hobie let out a low, simmering exhale. “You cried alone on a curb in Gotham. With a dead phone. After bein’ ignored by everyone you live with.” His voice was low, slow, and far too steady. “And you’re sittin’ here tellin’ us like it’s a funny anecdote.”
You blinked, genuinely at a loss. “Well… isn’t it?”, you laught again.
Miles dropped his face into his hands.
Gwen let out a shaky breath.
Pavitr covered his eyes for a moment.
Peni clutched her sleeve.
Hobie swore under his breath.
And still—
you didn’t understand why they all looked like they were about to break.
Interrogation
Gwen set her cup down a little too hard, the tiny clink sounding louder than it should. “Reader… if this happened just once, maybe we wouldn’t be so worried. But what about that time, you waved at Tim in the hallway, remember? And he stopped and stared at you like he was trying to remember your name!”
You blinked, genuinely confused. “Tim’s always tired. And we barely talk at the manor. It’s normal for him to space out.”
Miles sat up straighter, his voice sharper. “And the charity event—you said the whole family would be there. But you showed up alone. You were the only Wayne representative in the entire building!”
“Jason suddenly had an accident,” you replied calmly. “Someone from the family had to be there, and I was already on the way. It made sense for me to go.”
Peni leaned forward, her tone tight. “You entertained an entire room of old businessmen by yourself for hours. Reader. That’s not normal.”
You laughed faintly, puzzled by her reaction. “Well… what else was I supposed to do? They weren’t that bad. Okay—maybe a little creepy, but still.”
Before anyone could respond, something else hit you.
“OH! Speaking of that night, you remember when I called you guys to pick me up?” you said, eyes widening. “It didn’t even take twenty minutes before all of you showed up! With Peter and Mayday! And I didn’t even tell you the location yet! How did you do that?”
All five froze.
Pavitr swallowed hard. “W-we were… kinda nearby,” he offered, voice thinning out toward the end.
“And all five of you wear those matching spider-themed watches,” you said, pointing. “And I never questioned it! I didn’t even tease you!”
Hobie’s jaw flexed, his voice low. “Those watches aren’t just watches, luv. We have… reasons.”
“What reasons?” you asked, bright and clueless.
They exchanged panicked glances, silent arguments happening between their eyes.
But you continued, still completely comfortable.
“And then that time you took me to Pavitr’s house?” you said, looking at them innocently. “You made me close my eyes when you put the watch on me. And when I opened them—like ten minutes later—we were there. Isn’t his house out of Gotham? Or did I get mixed up?”
This time, the silence was crushing.
Miles ran both hands through his hair. Gwen stared at you like she couldn’t breathe.
Pavitr covered his mouth with both palms. Peni clutched her watch nervously.
And Hobie leaned back, eyes narrowing as he studied you like a puzzle with missing pieces.
Then the questions came—fast, sharp, layered.
Questions are asked of you indiscriminately
Miles leaned forward, worry tightening every line of his face. “Reader, when was the last time your family actually remembered your birthday?”
“I-I don’t celebrate my birthday!” you answered quickly, louder than you meant to.
Miles didn’t let it go. “Funny, because a few months ago Tim’s birthday was broadcast on TV. A whole Wayne Enterprises event. Cameras, speeches, everything.”
You stared at him, stunned and unsure how to respond.
Gwen jumped in, her frustration barely contained. “Do they even know what grade you’re in?”
“Oh come on, you know this,” you said with a forced laugh. “I’m older than Damian and a year below Tim!”
“No,” Gwen snapped gently. “Your grade, Reader. We’re talking about your grade, not your brothers’.”
Your smile faltered for the first time.
Peni leaned closer, brows tight with concern. “Do they ever ask how school is going? At all?”
You waved her off with a bright grin. “Relax, Peni! My school days are great.”
But she didn’t look reassured—her fingers curled nervously around her sleeve.
Pavitr’s voice softened. “When you text home, how long does it take for them to reply?”
“That’s easy,” you said. “They usually read it by the time I’ve already made it back home.”
Miles’s eyes widened. Pavitr’s shoulders slumped, hurt by the answer more than you expected.
Hobie tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Or do they reply at all?”
You blinked. “Well… once I’m home and they see me at the dinner table, what’s the point of replying?”
Across from you, Gwen let out a breath that sounded like a quiet, defeated curse.
Miles didn’t wait. “When you get sick, who takes care of you?”
“I— I…”
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.
Even you didn’t seem to know the answer.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Even you felt it this time, like something cold slid down your spine. Gwen stepped in before the moment could settle too long, her voice cracking like she hated the question she had to ask. She looked at you as if bracing for an answer she already feared.
“When you have achievements… does anyone congratulate you?”
“…”
Your throat tightened, and for once your evasive smile refused to come. The absence of an answer said more than anything you could have spoken aloud. Pavitr looked away, as if seeing your expression physically hurt him. Peni’s shoulders curled inward, her gaze dropping to her lap.
She whispered,
“Do they even know our names?”
“I… maybe?”
You blinked, feeling suddenly exposed.
“I never asked.”
That only made their worry spike higher. Hobie leaned forward, eyes burning with something fierce, anger, sadness, disbelief. He felt like a storm tightening in on itself, ready to explode. Pavitr asked the next question with a trembling breath, pushing forward because someone had to.
Pavitr leaned forward, desperation creeping into his tone. “Have you ever had dinner with your whole family—all of them—without someone leaving halfway through?”
You gave a weak laugh. “They’re busy people. It happens.”
But no one at the table believed that was normal.
Hobie’s stare was sharp enough to cut. “And tell me—when’s the last bloody time someone in that house told you they were proud of you?”
Your jaw clenched. “Okay… that’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
But your attempt to be annoyed only made their faces fall further.
Their questions piled up like stones, each one heavier than the last, revealing cracks you didn’t know you had.
You tried to laugh it off, raising your hands as if calming a crowd.
“Hahaha—guys, really. Chill. It’s all in the past. I’m here now, right? I’m fine. Life isn’t always smooth. Stuff happens.”
But your smile didn’t comfort them.
It terrified them.
They stared at you not because your story was horrifying,
but because of how effortlessly, casually, quietly you told it.
Because somewhere along the way, you had learned to live with being overlooked…
so deeply that you didn’t even see it anymore.
And they were only now realizing the scars you couldn’t see.
______________________________________
The silence around the table stretched so long it almost became a sound of its own—thick, trembling, impossible to ignore. You looked from face to face, trying to understand what emotion could twist all of them like this, but every expression only deepened your confusion. To you, the story had already ended. To them, it had only just begun unraveling.
“Why are you all angry?”
Miles sucked in a sharp breath, like he couldn’t believe you had to ask. His fingers curled into fists, restless against the wooden table. He looked up slowly, and there was no anger in his eyes, only hurt.
“We’re not angry at you,” he said, voice shaking. “We’re angry because nobody should have to grow up like that.”
You frowned at him, unsure what exactly he meant. Growing up was growing up. Families were busy. Schedules clashed. That wasn’t abuse, it was just life. You shifted slightly in your chair, feeling everyone’s attention pinning you down like a spotlight you didn’t ask for.
Gwen leaned closer, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“You talk about being ignored like it’s a normal part of your routine,” she said softly. “It shouldn’t be.”
You blinked at her, confused by the intensity in her voice. She looked like she was struggling to stay calm, her hands trembling as she rested them on the table. You wished you knew how to ease whatever pain she saw.
“But it is normal,” you said simply. “That’s just how it is at home.”
Peni made a tiny sound in her throat, like a gasp she didn’t mean to let out. She pressed her palms together tightly, knuckles pale as she stared at you with wide, wounded eyes. Even Pavitr leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, looking at you as if you were revealing something darker with every innocent word.
“Reader… normal doesn’t mean lonely,” Pavitr whispered. “You say things like you’re used to being invisible.”
"First of all, i am not lonely" take a sip at your drink, Invisible? The word landed strangely in your mind. You had never thought of it like that. You had chores, routines, responsibilities. Sometimes they called you for help. Sometimes they didn’t. It wasn’t personal—just busy schedules.
“I’m not invisible,” you said, shaking your head. “They see me. I mean… they don’t always pay attention, but that’s fine. They have more important things to deal with.”
Miles flinched as if your words had struck him, while Gwen covered her mouth in shock and Pavitr lowered his head, the calmness in your voice hurting them more than anything else you had said. Hobie leaned back, jaw tight, posture stiff as he stared at you like you were revealing something quietly devastating. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with anger he wasn’t directing at you.
“They should’ve been there for you. And you talk like you never even expected them to be.”
You blinked at him, genuinely confused. Expectation had never been part of how your home worked. It wasn’t disappointment if you never waited for anything to begin with.
“I don’t expect anything,” you said simply. “It makes things easier.”
Peni’s head snapped up, eyes glassy. “It’s not supposed to be easy,” she whispered, voice trembling. “It’s supposed to be shared.”
The words didn’t land the way she hoped. You’d never thought of your life as lacking, it just was what it was. The Wayne household moved in its own orbit—bright, busy, constantly shifting. You were there, quietly, steadily, a background star that didn’t need to shine to stay in the sky.
“You’re making it sound like something tragic happened,” you murmured. “But nothing did.”
Miles leaned forward, palms pressed to the table, his voice cracking open.
“It is tragic, Reader. You just don’t see it because it’s all you’ve ever known.”
Your chest tightened, not with pain, but with the weight of their confusion pressing against your own. You searched your memories for something that matched their horror, but nothing felt wrong enough, sharp enough, painful enough to justify the fear in their eyes.
“I’m not sad,” you said quietly. “I’m not angry. I don’t… feel abandoned.”
Gwen’s shoulders fell, her expression folding into something soft and devastating. “That’s what breaks us,” she whispered. “You don’t even know what you deserved.”
You looked down at your cup, letting the warmth steady you. Everything in your body felt calm, familiar, unchanged.
“I’m fine,” you said, offering a small, real smile. “This is just how my life is. Not perfect. Not terrible. Just… normal.”
Their faces froze, heavy with heartbreak you couldn’t understand. To them, your acceptance sounded like the saddest confession you’d ever made. To you, it was simply truth.
“It’s normal,” you repeated softly—
or something close enough that you never questioned it.
You're married to Satoru Gojo - an arrangement since your childhood, one you're so excited for. You soon find out - he wants nothing to do with you. Any one is preferable, from the waitress at your engagement party, to his secretary. Torn apart by insecurities and devastated by the fact that you can't make this one sided affection work, you decide to find something to keep you going until Gojo finds a way to end the marriage. That's what lands you right in the notorious boxing ring in town - led by Ryomen Sukuna, who finally sees you.
pairings - Arranged! Gojo x Reader x Boxer! Sukuna
warnings!!! - Heavy, heavy angst, cheating and reactive cheating, Satoru is ooc, cruel and mean, reader starts off very shy/insecure, Soft Sukuna but he still don't mind being buried inside married reader, a fuck ton of feelings, eventual smut, explicit, mentions of insecurities, painful and hurtful all around.
This WILL have multiple endings, all of these three are gonna be messy. Told from Reader, Gojo and Kuna's POV and split up by each! based on this drabble - WC - 9k
This won the 30k followers poll! Thank you so so much again!!
part one
Gojo -
Satoru Gojo his entire life has been used – as the ‘head of the Gojo’ clan, as the heir to the empire, everything in his life has been set in stone the moment he was born. They never gave him a real choice, barely let him have friends his entire childhood, no it was studies, it was pressure, it was how to be absolutely perfect, telling him who to talk to, how to act, how to walk.
He knew inevitably his time in college was just a fun distraction, where he had friends for the first time, where he felt almost normal, where he secretly dated – his parents would not approve – of the girls he talked to. Yet he fell into it just a bit, enjoying it too much, partying and fucking the worst girls, ones that would make his parents gasp in shock.
He hung out with the worst crowd, too, straight up heathens really, to rebel as much as he could, before the inevitable fact – his dad was dead, and he was turning twenty four, there was no more partying, no more life, no more dreams. All there was – the obligations, the responsibilities, the arranged wife they’ve had picked out since you both were children.
Oh, you’re beautiful, it’s not that.
You’re sweet, you’re smart, you’re kind.
It’s not that.
You’re not his choice, nothing about his entire fucking life was his own choice, and this is just another thing, another way to show him what he is – just something to be used, just a tool for his family to have power. The richest family in Japan must have that, right? And you were from the second richest, and one of the most powerful, from an impeccable line.
You were impeccable, you were exceptional, you were ‘perfect’.
And Satoru Gojo hates you on sight, the moment you meet him at the engagement party – yeah, that's where he officially meets you, and doesn’t just ‘hear about you’. That’s where he sees how fucking gorgeous and bright you are, and for a moment his heart hammers in his chest, for a moment he’d sink to his knees to get a taste of you.
Then he remembers it all, when you shyly look down, when you ring your hands in front of you.
Obligation.
Arrangement.
You didn’t want this, want him, choose him – who would other than for his name, for his power? For what he could do for your family, for everyone. You’re shoved into this – a contract from your youth, who knew what the fuck you wanted, or who you’ve been with, who you want to be with?
You didn’t choose him, he didn’t choose you.
He keeps reminding himself in moments where he thinks the light from the chandeliers are hitting too nicely on your collarbones, when he looks at your lips just a little too long, instead he politely smiles, and turns away. Why, do you ask, does he turn away from his future wife?
Why is he later kissing another woman, fingering her right on the balcony, where pretty much anyone who walks by could see, smirking against her neck with every moan she muffles. Why does Satoru Gojo pick the most common, slutty little waitress to do so, when you’re there in a beautiful fucking gown, and look lost and upset, your lips trembling?
Because imagine a world where he falls – and you didn’t choose him. Imagine he thinks for a brief moment he could have happiness in his life, a joke really, it’s just flitting little moments. He can only handle so much pain, and in turn he causes you the pain, the embarrassment, sucking her juices off his thick fingers after she cums, laughing just a bit and walking back in.
His elders are furious, everyone is murmuring about his antics, as he throws back a shot and chuckles, but you?
You just look down, and a couple of tears fall, turning away and sipping on your wine. You say nothing even as he dances with you later, stumbling a bit with how drunk he’s gotten, to piss them off – to tell them he’s not going down without a fight – looking at you curiously.
You stare at his chest, you say nothing.
“Having fun?” He asks, and you scoff a bit, looking up with glassy eyes, and for a moment it pierces his drunk heart.
He’s horrible.
But isn’t he just a disappointment anyway?
“Am I having fun watching you with another woman at my engagement party?” You ask softly, shaking your head. “I get it, I’m not your type. I knew that from people telling me so.”
He pauses, right in the center of the dance floor.
“Yet I expected some decorum, I expected you to at least be respectful, not to show the world how unappealing you find me,” you whisper, biting down on your lip, shaking your head now. “I wanted to at least try here, with you.”
Satoru can’t speak.
Until he spins you, and catches you, his big hand taking over your waist, thumb pressing under the swell of your breasts. He almost falls then, from just a look, yet he holds himself back, he stops every insane thought and action, laughing easily, like he’s amused.
Satoru is good at hiding.
“Ya thought we’d have some story book romance, huh? Oh… you’re a fairy princess and I’m from another kingdom? And oh…” He leans down, so low to you, lips a breath away. “I fall for the princess, she’s just so beautiful, how can’t I?”
“Gojo…”
“News to you, perfect little fairy princess, I’m not interested in marriage, or any of this shit, this show, I fucking hate it,” his words are harsh, as he squeezes you too tightly, so tightly you’re shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Your prince from another kingdom just stuck his fingers in a waitress. That’s reality, sweetheart.”
You tremble in his hold, and he knows then.
He hurt you.
Good, he thinks, shit will be easier that way, safer if you hate him, if you smack him, tell him to fuck himself. Yet you tilt your chin up and spin as the dance calls for, giving a little curtsey as he steps closer, not showing a hint of emotion aside from your tears that you seemingly can’t stop.
“I see,” is all you say then, stepping back into his arms, as the crowd of gossiping families speaks of it all, you hold all of your composure, even as he raises a brow, looking down at you. “Maybe I am foolish, to have thought it that way. Yet I still don’t understand why you’re…”
“What, little princess? So mean?”
You just look down again, quiet, swallowing visibly, you smell too good, invading his fucking senses. “I didn’t think you were mean when I met you as a child.”
“As a child?” Satoru pauses, and you sigh, shaking your head.
“Of course you wouldn’t remember, I’m not very special.” You step back as the song ends, and your tragic eyes meet his, before lowering them and bowing a little bit. “Have a good rest of your evening, I’m feeling a little…” You look at the girl he’d just kissed. “Sick.”
When you rush off, politely excusing yourself, Satoru feels this sinking in his heart, questions simmering under the surface – what if he just was kind to you? What if he at least didn't make a fool of himself?
But he doesn't go after you, no that would have been the ‘right’ thing to do. The thing is, you're much better off without him. So he's dancing with women who make his family furiously whisper amongst themselves, and he just knows -
You will hate him, and you’re better off for it.
*****
You
You didn't expect a fairy tale marriage. Even marrying the man who is basically the ‘prince’ of all the families, all of the clans, the Gojo heir. You may as well be the ‘princess’ of your own, both of you promised as children to each other, knowing no love or match would come to anything.
This was it, your future, but you met him when he was just a little kid, he's two years older than you. His blue eyes and spiky white hair were enough to make your heart race, but mostly you noticed how sad those blue eyes were.
He wasn't mean then, he was kind and reserved, not boisterous, laughing and acting a fool. He was cautious more like you are, both of you not wanting to disappoint your very harsh parents who had so many expectations. Satoru had given you his hand, holding it tightly, pressing a little kiss on the back of it.
So you'll be my wife some day
Yeah…
You're um… pretty.
That was it, just a moment and then he'd had to run off. And you only saw Satoru in bits and pieces, here and there from afar, watching and knowing he didn’t notice you. Yet that moment gave you hope.
Just to fucking crush it all.
It's your wedding night, and his staff is carrying all of your luggage inside the expensive mansion. Satoru is drunk, you notice he is around you, as if that helps with the pain of having to be married to you, stumbling just a bit and chuckling darkly when you try to help him.
“I'm fine,” he yanks your hand off like you burned him. Your tummy is in knots, you feel sick. “Let me show you your room. Princess.”
He says it always mockingly, tonight you know he was with someone again, he's made no attempt to hide kissing others. You're sure he probably does more, but you're innocent yourself so you don't exactly know what's what. Your parents pounded innocence and propriety in your head.
You'll be Gojo’s wife, you must be pure for him.
What a joke, really, to be pure for someone who will never want you, to watch him kissing on necks in the gardens, laughing until he sees your face. You never have been a very confident girl, but everyone has always told you that you're pretty, lovely, so you sort of didn't think your looks were an issue.
Then again, it could just be you. Maybe you're boring, maybe you're too proper. Your mind wracks with doubts as he leads you up the winding staircase of the Gojo mansion up to a dark hallway. He opens a door and you pause, breath catching in your throat at how beautiful it is.
“This is our room?” You ask softly, the blue silk bed and gossamer canopy snug in a room of soft whites and blues. He chuckles, making you look at him.
“They had it made for us, pretentious isn't it?” You blink a bit.
“I think it's beautiful,” it's quiet when you step in, still in your beaded and saying white wedding gown. You slip off your veil and take a breath. Looking in the mirror.
You look gorgeous today.
No matter what he says or doesn't say, you see it in that reflection. In your lashes, in your eyes, in your lips, painted a pretty crimson. Your body is showcased to perfection, modest but still sensual, just hints of your lines and curves outlined, the material glinting in the soft light.
“Your room,” he says at the doorway, and you pause, making him smirk. “You didn't think we were fucking did you?”
You blush furiously, looking down nervously at your hands entwined in front of you. “I did think we would… make the marriage official even if you don't find me attractive.”
It's dead silent, lingering in the air – your insecurities rampant.
“Why? Because our duty?” He asks, stepping inside, his dress shoes echoing on the floor, coming to stand behind you, reflection in the mirror making you tremble.
“We will need to have babies, it's expected of me. Or I'll be… a failure as a wife.” Your voice breaks, and for a moment you see blue eyes soften, you feel fingertips slipping over your straps, yet they halt, and his eyes narrow.
“I won't fuck you, not for duty or expectations, fuck them and fuck that.”
It's like a slap to the face. You take a breath, trembling now. “Gojo, am I that displeasing really? I tried so hard to look-”
“Nothing will make me fuck you,” he murmurs coolly. “We will ride this shit out till I find a way to end it somehow.”
“End it?” your brows draw together, eyes swimming in unshed tears, his fingers slip off now, going to your back, slowly undoing the little rows of buttons methodically.
“An annulment, divorce, whatever… fuck this shit, I'm not staying married.” he is casual as he helps you out of your dress, knuckles tracing up your spine, then he smirks. “Oh shit. You want me? Hah… that's cute.”
“I… um… you…” You're flushed, reflection in the mirror blushing, as you look at him, his cruel smirk, his mean eyes. “Am I not supposed to want you?”
“Of course you do, I am Satoru Gojo,” he presses those straps down, pausing when he gets a view of your breasts as you hold the dress against them, your back exposed and bare. “You can always touch yourself and think of me, who am I to deny that? But I will never touch you.”
It's like he just stabs you in the stomach. You turn, facing the cruel, tall man now, on the night you hoped for something, anything, but you're just met with a mean curve of his lips. “So what, you'll just… fuck anyone but me?”
“You can cuss?” He laughs a bit, fingers curling along one of the carefully coifed ringlets.
“Yes, I can. I just don't usually,” you take a breath. Trying to remember.
Obey him.
Treasure him.
For your family
“You don't know me and you won't even try to, will you?”
“You want dick that bad, huh?” You gasp, slapping him as hard as you can then, he winces and rubs his cheek, glaring at you. You falter, looking at his pink cheek and gasping.
“I'm sorry. I…”
“Let's get one thing straight, princess,” Satoru Gojo leans over you, an arm on either side, tilting his head as you grip your wedding dress tightly to your chest. “We can do our own things. I get it. You have to live here for now.”
For now.
“But don't you dare fucking hit me,” he grips your wrist, bruising with his long fingers, you gasp out at the pain, tears falling. “Not used to men not wanting you, huh?”
“What!?” You're blinking in confusion, his grip tightening, your heart sinking.
You feel so sick.
“Never been turned down because you're the family princess, aww. So cute,” he leans down, touching your cheek, eyes a cruel bluee. “Everyone after that money, after a chance with you, so special. Well you're not fucking special to me, we are just the same.”
“I don't think I'm special or anything!? I never said that.”
“Don't have to, I can just see it.”
You're shaking in his hold. “I just thought we could try, you don't even know if we have anything, a connection or-”
Gojo laughs at you.
He laughs.
“Try what, fucking you? You want my dick real bad.”
“No!? Just if we could feel a connection? I… like you haven't kissed me, how do you even-”
Satoru grabs your face, leaning low and pressing his lips against yours, capturing them and making you lose your breath. You melt when his plump lips work yours, when a hand comes to entangle in your hair, your hands slipping off your dress so that your nipples hit the cool air.
His tongue slips in your mouth, exploring the recesses with far too much finesse, hot and drooling as he presses you against the hard wood of the dresser.
You've never kissed.
You try to move your tongue back, knowing you're awful at it, your arms slipping around his neck. He's mean, he's cruel, but you want to try, you want to have this. Feel whatever this dizzy sensation is, one of his hands gripping your breast as he pulls back, lips glossy, eyeing them now.
“I'll give you this,” he murmurs softly. “You have perfect tits.”
“Um…” You're stammering again, whimpering when his thumb brushes your nipple.
“Perfect posture, pretty face, nice little body. It's not enough though sweetheart," he pulls back now, grinning and crossing his arms as you just stand there. “There, your kiss, and there's nothing between us. Is there? Enough to shove that fantasy out of your head?”
Nothing!?
“You think keeping your tits out will make me hard?” You gasp, covering them up, blinking back more hot tears.
He wipes his lips with his thumb. As if to remove the kiss from his memory. You look down, pain making you dizzy – deep pain.
“I just… you’re so sure that this won’t work that you’re not trying!” He laughs softly, without humor.
Charming. Handsome. Cruel.
Satoru’s two fingers brush down your collarbone and across it, a mean smile on a devastatingly pretty face as he watches goosebumps dance across your skin. "You want me to touch you. Hmm?"
"I just…" you cover yourself with your arms now, suddenly so insecure, you were anyway but this was more. It was worse, having the man you've been infatuated with since a kid turning you down, on a night you felt so beautiful. "I just thought we could try to find some common ground, to maybe make this work. Become… more?"
He leans down, his sweet breath against your lips, tickling them as his blue eyes glitter, cold like the most beautiful sapphires, and just as hard, there’s no emotion in their depths. So cold you shiver, swallowing nervously.
"Oh sweetheart, I don't want any of it. What they tell me to do, what they expect, no... I'll burn it all to the fucking ground, and them with it.”
“Burn it to the ground?” Your whisper is soft, his lips curve mean when he grips your chin.
"You're a pretty girl, but I'm not for you. That's the most you're getting from me.”
Not. For. You.
"What is so wrong with me?” You hate how desperate you sound.
Was this who you are?
Do you know yourself outside of becoming Satoru Gojo's wife?
“It’s not…” he trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “You just don’t seem to get it, little princess. It’s an inconvenience, this entire thing.”
Great.
You’re just a fucking inconvenience to your ‘husband’.
“We will let them think we're good for a year, maybe two. Then I'll get out of this, you should thank me really, it's not like you chose it either.”
He turns now, leaving you close to collapsing, with the pain, with the casual cruelty. “Satoru…”
“Don't fucking call me that,” he snaps, looking back at you. You step back and bump into the elegant dresser, shaking as he looks at you with such hatred. “You don't get to call me my first name.”
“I am… I am sorry if I messed something up. If I did something wrong…” You're sniffling your tears, trying to keep it together. “I haven't even kissed before and I probably am just bad at it. Just give me a chance to-”
“Stop trying,” his voice is softer, like he fucking feels bad for you. That's worse than his cruelty – pity. “Just keep to yourself and I will too, until I find a way out of it. It's useless to try.”
“Useless to?”
“Sweetheart,” his tongue is honeyed, a lilt to his voice. “I'll never want you.”
The knife in your heart?
Twisted.
“Oh, I see…” You take a breath, just nodding then, hands gripping the beaded material so tightly they ache.
Obedient.
Sweet.
Serve your husband.
It's what you were trained to be, a traditional wife who follows her husband's orders, even your stinging palm was beyond what you're used to. How can you serve a man that doesn’t want you, how can you obey someone when their only order is for you to quit trying?
As he walks out, with just one look over his shoulder before he shuts that door, leaving you alone in the room on your own in tears on your very wedding night… how can you act like that kiss meant nothing to you? How can you not sink down on that bed all alone, and sob.
The boy you fell in love with doesn't remember you.
Doesn't want you.
No, he hates you.
And you'll have to endure this and be a failure to your parents, the worst of all your fears.
You don't stop sobbing until dawn breaks into the windows.
*****
Gojo
It's been a month of having you in his home, you're trying to be so perfect too. Dinner ready every night, you sit there and wait for him, smiling so pretty, wearing some new outfit as if he will ever touch you again, trying to talk to him, to get to know him.
Satoru can't stand you.
All you do is make him want to end it quicker, so that he has no feelings in this. No amount of slutty little slips or lingering before bed time is getting him to consummate the marriage, to give in to what his family and elders shoved on him, controlling his entire life.
Nah fuck that.
Satoru is balls deep inside his secretary right now, condom dripping with her cum as he lets her bounce up and down his latex covered cock. He leans back and moans as she works him like a pro, bouncing her ass and letting it jiggle under the shoved up pencil skirt.
Of course he thinks of you, fists his cock to images of those tits, imagines those lips around his tip. All the more reason to not fuck you, imagine if he did? You were a virgin, probably would lay there and not know how to do shit, you could barely kiss him back.
He'd have to be all gentle, not slam you down and bottom out like he could right now. She's moaning, too loud, he has to slam a hand on her mouth, lips against her ear.
“We're at work,” he reminds gently.
“Sorry Mr. Gojo. Mnh!” Satoru's big hands work her up and down, bottoming out as she cums, covering her own mouth as she screams out.
“Hah, so messy,” he taunts, she's squirting all over his Armani slacks, right when the door opens.
Fuck.
Did he not lock it?
He pauses, and its…
You.
You quickly shut the door and turn away, as his secretary gasps, panicking and lifting up. Satoru drags her back down, eyeing you.
“Wife,” he teases, you turn to look at him, lunchbox in your hands. “Didn't expect you at my work. Can I cum real quick, then we can talk?”
You say nothing, obedient little thing that you are, not an ounce of fire in you aside from a little smack. He supposes that's how you were raised, how boring really, but he shoves the woman down once more. Toying with her clit and making her moan in front of you, right as he busts in that condom, groaning softly.
“Fuck, there we go,” he taps her and she hops off, giggling when she tugs her skirt down, rushing past you.
“Mrs. Gojo.” she says, you just step back and nod.
“Hello.”
‘Hello’ is what you say, to the woman who'd been riding your husband's cock?
He tosses the condom in the trash under his desk, sighing and smirking over at you, when you turn and see him, still hard and covered in milky seed, turning back around again.
“I'm sorry.”
“You're sorry?” He demands, slipping his boxers up now. “I was fucking someone and you're sorry?”
“I should have called first,” you turn back again, as he zips up, cheeks tinged pink.
You look beautiful today.
He wouldn't tell you. But you do.
“I was just… I learned to make sushi? I was so bored lately. Then… they kind of look ugly? But they're um… yummy and-”
“Just stop, fuck,” you look at him, tears in your eyes, clenched fists at your side when he takes the bento box. “Stop trying so hard, it's not gonna happen.”
“Gojo-”
“Stop, don't hurt yourself more.”
“But why am I so… why would you never ever want me?” you whisper brokenly then. “I am not trying to be mean but her? She's not even… attractive!? I don't-”
He laughs at you again, shaking his head. “You are a spoiled rich girl, a mean little thing. Because she's not drop dead gorgeous I couldn't want her? Looks mean nothing really, little princess. It's just you who I don't want.”
Your breasts heave up and down, finally a glare on your otherwise sad little pretty face. “I am trying!”
“I don't want you to fucking try, constantly acting like the perfect wife. I don't want it. Don't want you, how clear can I fucking make it!?”
You step up to him then, tilting your head to look up at the tall, cruel man, lipstick on his fucking neck, smirking at you. “Well maybe I don't want YOU, but I fucking TRY.”
“Oh. You want me,” he tilts your chin up, grinning at you, feeling your skin hot to the touch. “Bet you're so desperate you'd lick her pussy off me. Wouldn't you? For a chance.”
“I would never,” you shake your head. “Fine, you win. I won't try anymore.”
“Good. It's for your own best interest,” he pats your cheek and smiles. “What's on your plans today, hmm little perfect wife?”
“Not making dinner.” he smirks at you again. “Not trying for you ever again.”
You rush out of the door, dejected, shoulders slumped, when you look back at him though?
That look.
Heartbroken, devastated, done for. Like you just lost all your goddamn will to live.
That one hurts.
Satoru was not cruel before you. Sure he was a dick, he played a lot, he was conceited, but to make you give up trying made him have to push you away. If even fucking in front of you didn't he had to push it further, and he thinks that's the moment you gave up on him.
It's for your own best interest to end this when he can, to be strangers.
Your eyes are burned in his brain as he opens your dumb bento box, and sees these pretty little Sushi. Shaped like little hearts with pink paper instead of the traditional.
He swallows down his guilt when he sees them laid out with a cup of soup, rice, a drink even. And a little note on pink paper.
He hates himself more when he opens it.
Gojo, I know you don't want me, don't want this, but if we could just try… I think there could be something, truly. When we kissed I did feel it, somewhere buried under the surface.
I know I'm not who you chose, or who you want, but I hope one day we could grow to like each other. I am trying my hardest and I just hope that it can be enough.
Have a great day at work, I will see you at home.
Tears slip onto the note, bleeding the ink through the paper, he looks at the shut door you'd walked out of, remembering your eyes..they'd always fucking haunt him. That look of defeat written all over them.
You were bringing him lunch and love notes when he was letting a secretary ride his cock.
“Mr. Gojo?” his assistant opens his door, and he pauses, looking up at her. “You have a two a clock.”
“Right…” He just stares at the sushi, at the note, before shutting his eyes, swiping off tears he hasn't cried since he was a little kid.
That night, no dinner is made by you. No it's the chefs as it should always be, but it's a sign, as is you not in that dining room waiting for him. He walks around the mansion, looking for you, for any sign that you're in his home.
Why does he care?
He hears your sobs from the room you are supposed to share, and rests his door on it.
Why did you have to try so hard, when he told you not to?
“He will never w-want me…” You're sobbing and hiccuping. “Never enough.”
He swallows down his own self loathing, resting his head on the door, wondering at just who he is. Is this Satoru Gojo, or is this Satoru Gojo trying to be anything else but what he's always been pushed into?
He walks off to his own room, shutting the door. He'd have to end this marriage soon as he can, in whatever way that meant – to get you the fuck away from him. You may hate him for it, but at least you'd have a little bit of a choice in your life.
*****
You
You come home from an event with Satoru, a press junket where you have to act like a happy newlywed. And you do just that, you play your role, giggling with his hand on your waist, the most contact you've had since that kiss – the one where he felt nothing for you. The one that you felt shaken from, suddenly fucking delusional, in spite of the fact of one thing.
Satoru Gojo made sure to let you know there was no chance, he didn’t mince words, didn’t lead you on, it was your own hope that made you keep trying that first month, that hope that even after seeing him with his dick inside a woman, maybe he’d feel anything. Fuck, he made sure to cum before she got off of him, didn’t even stop mid fuck.
That’s how unimportant you were.
Yet even then you tried, until he made that disgusting comment – licking another woman off him? Calling you pathetic?
Well, you were.
You were not going to be cruel to him despite the rage in your heart, however, you just no longer try, it’s quiet when you take off your heels at the door, and he slips off his dress shoes. You both say nothing, but you feel his eyes on you at times, as if he expects some word out of your mouth.
You no longer say good morning, good night, you just live your life with Satoru for another month like this, he’ll have a girl over in his room, but you keep to yourself, living so alone… yet, with him.
Your few friends you have get worried for you, every time you get to see them over the next couple months you look more tired, you don’t look like you’re eating, you have dark circles under your eyes, the eyes that don’t glimmer any longer. They share their concerns quietly, over a nice brunch, but you act like everything is just fine.
Tonight your mother had pulled you aside, making sure to dissect your looks to a fault, including said dark circles – As if you didn’t have enough insecurities just being married to Satoru Gojo, a man who’d fuck anyone but you.
“You have to keep yourself together, look he’s all over those women,” she whispers, you would laugh but you know better, the woman who beat submission into your head was right here. You just look down, nodding.
“He always is.”
“So you need to get his attention,” you sigh, wanting to explain how hard you tried, even in lieu of him fucking that secretary in front of you, but you merely nod once more. “Get yourself together, you look like you haven’t slept in a week, your hair is oily even. What’s wrong with you!?”
What’s wrong with you?
You peer over to your tall, white haired husband surrounded by women in the ridiculously extravagant event, glamorously dressed when you chose a thin silk number, not caring anymore. You didn’t do your makeup, what did that matter? It’s not as if he’d ever look at you anyway.
“You’ll make him look bad, make us all look bad, you must gather yourself together and try more. Have I not raised you to be the perfect wife?”
The perfect wife.
To a husband who hates you.
“You did indeed Mother,” you manage to say, clearing your throat that night, feeling the eyes of so many curiously flit between you both. “I shall try not to disappoint you and father.”
Yet you are done trying, as he asked you to be, walking up the stairs now with him slowly trailing behind, as if to make sure there was enough space between the both of you.
Try a gym!
Or a spa day?
You need self care babe!
Yeah, your friends advice about self care was not enough for what you’re going through, but they ring in your head, as you head to your room, and reach around to try to unzip your dress. You curse, moving your hand in every which way, you then try to tug it up off you, but it’s half stuck with the tight material.
Fuck, you’re gonna have to ask him.
“Gojo…” You say, standing by his door, he’s up typing away on the laptop, shirtless, his body cut and chisled, muscles moving as he sits up straighter, eyeing you carefully.
“You, coming to my room?” You flush furiously, looking down.
“Don’t worry, I’ll never, ever ask to be intimate again,” you whisper, the pain still piercing your heart, your soul. He just looks down. “I just really can’t get out of this dress, and I swear to god it’s not a hit on or seduction.”
“Ah,” he doesn’t gloat like usual, standing up now, his sweats falling down his hips, you wish he didn’t look so good like that, coming up to you carefully, everything flexing as he walks. “Zipper stuck?”
“I think so, and it won’t go up over my damn hips,” you grumble, when he comes closer. “I’m sorry.”
“You apologize constantly,” you just nod again. “Turn around.”
You do that, lifting your hair off the nape of your neck for him, two of his fingers grasp the metal zipper, slipping it down achingly slow, the noise loud in his quiet room, mixing with his own catch of breath. It’s quiet, a few tendrils falling against the nape of your neck, as the zipper jams just a bit, stuck in the middle.
“Hang on…” He mumbles, clearly irritated, holding the dress tight together and then grasping it, jerking you just a bit as he finally gets it down. “There.”
“Thank you, Gojo,” you say softly, as he looks at the smooth expanse of your back, and for a moment neither of you move, you turn to face him, still holding your hair up. “I didn’t mean to bug you.”
He doesn’t say anything, knuckles brushing down your spine lightly, enough to make you ache in your core, something you’ve never really felt before this moment. You swallow nervously, blushing and looking away, you can’t make a fucking fool out of yourself again.
You will not push something he clearly doesn’t want, it’s just not right – even in the name of ‘marriage’ it should be Satoru’s choice too, and he so clearly would never choose you, in any world. You turn now, straps slipping down your shoulders, his bright blue eyes get dark and lidded when his gaze hits your tits, the tops of them showcased with the little dress half off.
“I’ll let you um… sleep.” You say, he just blinks a moment, clearing his throat now.
“Yeah.”
You slowly walk out, wondering if it is just you looking for something, anything, the way you damn near begged him to notice you, to want you, it was as he said – pathetic. Even knowing he’s fucking women actively, that he doesn’t have the time of day for you at all, you still crave it, you still don’t retaliate.
His phone rings, and you hear him murmuring while you’re in the hallway –
Hey sweets, hmm… I bet you do miss me.
You feel your feet get heavy, you’ve been barely eating because you’re just fucking miserable, but hearing that as his door shuts and you walk to your lonely room sinks in. The miserable realization that he doesn’t care about you, that even if he gave you a glance, it was nothing, you were nothing to him.
You slip that dress off when you’re in your bedroom, looking at yourself in the mirror, even just his proximity always put a blush to your cheeks, as if your body was betraying your mind. You remember what your friends told you the other day, their concerned gazes, and the way they tried to be supportive when they barely know the half of what you endure.
Having to hear your husband jerking it on the phone and talking another girl through it when he has never touched you?
You are tired of crying, so tired.
You look up gyms in the area, sure that’s not really going to help a damn thing, but it might be enough to keep you busy, considering you can’t even work as a Gojo wife, and you’re left alone too often in the quiet, thinking too much. You pick one and map it, while laying in your bed and snuggling, yawning a bit as sleep starts to drag you under.
“All right, let’s see if self care will help me at all,” you say to yourself quietly, drifting off into a dreamless sleep, as you have been.
What’s there to dream about anymore?
*****
Sukuna
His knuckles are aching from hitting the big heavy black bag, punching it over and over, his class is done but Sukuna always loves to blow some steam off, and the best way is to beat the bag to a pulp. His ruby eyes are locked on the target, exhaling and controlling his breathing.
One, two.
One, two, punch.
Cross, jab, hook.
It’s methodical, it’s easy, even as his muscles ache – that ache is sweet, it’s so perfect to feel, he grins as he imagines beating the fuck out of so many people then. Start with his shit father – his mother gets a pass only due to being a woman – and then, all the little pretentious shits he went to college with.
Sukuna was supposed to be training to become a CEO, to take over his father’s position, and be a nepo baby like the rest of those damn men he partied with at the frat in college. Yet, he never, ever wanted that, and he built something for himself – several gyms, he’s trained pro boxers, national champions.
This was what Sukuna wanted to do.
Mostly, he loved to box, he cared just a little bit enough not to join those matches himself – oh, what would that look like!? The Sukuna heir going into a boxing ring!? Yet, at the same time, he had dreams of it. Of being in a ring and knocking everyone out, pushing that ‘family disappointment’ name even further.
For now, however, there is peace in the quiet gym.
That is, until you walk in.
Tired and fucking beautiful, these dark circles that sit under your eyes, a shy little nervous smile, about five minutes before he closes. You stand at the door and look around, frowning then and staring at your phone, wearing some pretty little yoga outfit and a big sweater, like you were getting ready for pilates rather than kickboxing.
“I’m sorry, first off for coming so late, second… ugh I thought you were a regular gym! Where is my brain…” You smack your forehead, turning, when he literally runs up to you, stopping you before fully thinking of it.
Sukuna, running.
You really are that pretty, when he sees a giant rock on your finger he curses internally, sighing.
“I do other things here, a whole room of workout machinery,” he says then, his voice just a little gruff, when you turn and look up at him, so shy, you look right back down at your feet, hugging yourself a bit. “I can show you, just need to lock up.”
“You probably want to get home, god I’m sorry, I slept all day like a miserable… oh… so sorry.” You have said sorry again, rambling now, making Sukuna wonder.
Just who has you this down? This shy? This clearly hurt?
“I meant to come earlier,” you blink back tears, looking up again with them swimming in your pretty eyes, so pretty he can’t decide what color they are, but the way they look at him almost takes him out. “I set an alarm, and promised I would make myself do something, then I just… hit it over and over. And now I’m rambling.”
“And crying,” he smirks a bit, swiping off a tear. “Rambling, crying, coming in late too, huh?”
“I know I’m so-”
“I’m teasing,” he chuckles softly, shaking his head and tilting your chin up. “If you want to do any sport, you need eye contact. Even when they’re all red and bloodshot.”
“Well your eyes are red too! I mean, oh my god!?” You cover your mouth, he laughs again softer this time. “I’m sorry, I like their color, they’re beautiful. Not to say I am hitting on you! Oh dear god…”
“Will you take a breath?” You shut your eyes, nodding. “A deep one, in… there you go, and out.”
Your breasts rise and fall, the sweater slipping further off a shoulder, as he takes in the mess that’s come to his doorstep – a beautiful, tragically broken mess that does something he can’t explain. When you swipe your cheeks and try to give a tremulous smile, you break whatever heart Sukuna has in his chest.
Who fucking hurt you like this?
Damage recognizes damage, but this…
“Don’t apologize a fourth time, yeah?” You nod then, sniffling a bit and attempting a better smile.
“I really just want to… apparently I need self care, my friends say, and I thought a gym might… help. But I can’t box, or kickbox.”
“Why not? You've got a lot of pent up tension," his hands brush down your shoulders softly, feeling the tenseness. "Bet you’d kill it."
"Me!?" You giggled nervously but he was serious, a huge handsome man crossing his arms and raising a brow, leaned back a bit in the quietness of his gym. "Kickboxing, huh?"
"Think you can't?"
You shake your head, and he sees it all over your face –
You don’t think you can do anything.
“Why not? Husband wants you all girlie or something?” He addresses the ring with a glance, you laugh without humor, your face darkening then.
“He doesn’t give a shit what I do, no, we’re not,” you trail off, shaking your head. “I dumped enough trauma on you just walking in here. What’s your name?”
“Sukuna,” he takes your hand, feeling yours just a little sweaty in his grip. “What do you mean doesn’t give a shit?”
“He doesn’t like me.” He blinks at that.
“Trouble in paradise?”
You laugh again, shaking your head. “Let’s say he’s done more with his secretary than me so far,” Sukuna frowns at that, raising a dark brow. “It’s okay, really don’t feel bad for me. I just need something to get my mind off it.”
Who the fuck wouldn’t want you?
He almost says it, but he holds back, nudging his head now. “Lemme show you around the gym.”
He locks the door behind you so no random people try to come after hours, and you follow him through, looking up at the ceiling – it’s high, wooden beams running across it, it was once an old factory before Sukuna bought it off the guy. The walls are all red and orange brick, some of it is painted white, with graffiti art.
“That’s so cool,” you murmur, walking up to it then, touching it gently. “What is all of this?”
“Some of the guys like to come tag it,” he says, there are all sorts of images scrawled, along with Sukuna’s name in big red letters, little demon horns over the U. “I think they’re callin’ me the devil.”
“No!” You laugh, the sound so foreign to your own ears, he can just tell when you sober up a bit, smiling gently now. “You, the devil?”
“Mmm, you don’t know shit about me yet,” you blush a bit at the insinuation. “You’d run out if you knew what I was thinking.”
“You don’t have to be so… nice to me, okay? Because you feel bad.”
Sukuna blinks his pink lashes. “Huh?”
“I can tell, you’re a really good person,” you walk up to him, touching his hand now, sucking in a breath at the contact, fingers tracing his calloused, beat up knuckles. “Thank you though.”
“You think I’m pretending to find you attractive?” He almost can’t take you serious, but your face says it all. “Yeah, no, I’m not that nice. Now follow me before I say something real fucking dumb.”
You’re a flustered mess, letting your hand fall and nodding.
“This is where you’d like to be,” he mentions, toward the room with all of the normal equipment – treadmills, ellipticals, rowing machines, all sleek and black. “So you can just do your normal little workouts. Yoga mats and all.”
“Oh! I see,” you’re just a step behind him, he can inhale that perfume, he doesn’t know what scent it is but it’s driving him insane, when he stops and you bump into him. “Ah!”
He catches you quickly, frowning a bit at how weak you seem, assessing you. “You eat anything today?”
You blink a bit.
How'd he notice?
“No.”
“It’s six?”
“Yeah, not for a couple days,” you mumble. Sukuna glares at you, far, far too attractive and you’re not even fucking eating.
“If you have some… problem, you gotta tell me if I’m gonna train you, yeah?”
“No, nothing like that, just can’t eat when I’m sad,” your words are soft, barely over a whisper, running your fingers along the arm of a treadmill. “It’s been a few days I guess.”
“A few days, the fuck?” What sort of husband lets his wife just not eat?
He supposes the kind that makes her an unconfident, sad girl that cries the moment she enters a gym. Sukuna knows damn well he shouldn’t get involved in the shit, but just looking at you hurts him, in a way he’s not sure he’s felt, recognizing a version of himself so long ago, when he was young, when he wanted that approval, when he craved it so badly.
But more than that.
“If you don’t eat tomorrow I’ll be shoving food in your mouth,” you laugh at that, covering your mouth again. “I’m serious, the fuck you mean days?”
“I will make myself eat before I come.”
“And you’ll come at a decent time, yeah? Not before I close. Do I need to set three alarms to get your bratty ass up?”
“Bratty!?” you laugh again, shaking your head, the sight so fucking cute it destroys him.
God he’d drop to his knees just to kiss up those thighs, fucking lick you right over those leggings, the ones just a little snug against your puffy lips. And he can tell when you’re close how excited you are, the way your pupils blow out, the way you bite down on that lower lip, the one already chapped from likely biting it to death.
“No one has ever called me bratty,” you muse softly. “The opposite, actually.”
“Well maybe they don’t see it buried all in there, under a cute little fucking yoga outfit,” he brushes your hair back. His mistake, his undoing, and not kissing you is maybe the hardest thing he’s done.
You’re married.
He’s trying to give a fuck about that.
“C’mon brat,” you giggle again. “Here is the ring.”
You pause, looking at the huge rectangular boxing ring, surrounded by mats, boxing bags hanging heavy and worn all over, red and black ropes surrounding it. “Is this where you all practice?”
“Mhm,” he leads you over to a bag, touching it, old and black and hanging, one of his big hands touching it now. “Tomorrow you’ll punch it, today you didn’t eat so you don’t get to.”
“Mean,” your lips twitch though, the color to your face just brighter, your eyes glittering. Fuck you’re pretty sad, and happy, he can only imagine more. “All right, I promise, full breakfast.”
“Eat some dinner, too, then I’ll let you kick it.”
“The bag?”
“No, me.”
“What!?” You laugh again, Sukuna snorts and rolls his ruby red eyes, those pink lashes fluttering. “You’re joking, oh!”
“Yeah, a joke,” he tugs on that pony tail your hair is thrown in. “Two pm, don’t be late.”
When you’re gone he’s locking up, watching you slip into some bmw, waving a bit before you back up, wondering what’s this feeling in his heart, in his gut.
Sukuna loves women, he loves being inside them, pleasuring them, but he’s never just enjoyed making someone smile that much. Knowing you’re married should be a hell of a deterrent, whether he’s clearly a dick or not, Sukuna can’t just swoop in and be with married women.
Right?
Yet when he’s in bed that night, he finds himself throbbing, thinking of seeing your pretty face in pleasure. And he knows damn well whatever ‘morals’ he should have about it aren’t going to help him not make you feel good, in just any fucking way you need him to.
*****
You
“Never seen you eat so much,” Satoru murmurs when he walks in, lipstick across his neck, you’re downing some soup, realizing just how starved you were. “Have the chefs make something.”
“I just haven’t eaten in a week,” you say softly, Satoru’s eyes widen, then narrow a bit, while you dab at your mouth with a napkin. “I guess I’m hungry.”
“A week? What nothing here good, they can order anything.”
“I was too depressed,” the honesty is something you’d usually hold in, but something about meeting Sukuna today…
Everything about him.
The way he looked at you, that smirk was teasing, not cruel – he listened to you, he seemed to care, him a stranger. You know it’s nonsense, a man trying to be kind to a crying woman, but it meant a lot, even if that’s all it was. You’d walked in with a smile you haven’t had since you married him.
Satoru Gojo.
“A week? You can die from that shit,” he glares now, and you laugh, but this time it’s a mean little sound. “You think you can’t?”
“Sure, but what would you care?” You take a sip of the wine you’d poured, Satoru’s finest vintage, letting it dance along your tongue. “Wouldn’t it make your life easier if I did?”
His lips part, brows drawing together. “I don’t want you to fucking die, okay? Fuck.”
“You wouldn’t care,” you swirl the wine around, leaning back in the seat, eyes locked with the man you’ve tried so hard to make like you. To just come near you, to give you a chance. “I’m nothing to you.”
He says nothing in the quiet of the dining room.
“You didn’t notice.”
“Well, no I don’t eye your every move, figured you eat before I get home or some shit,” he runs a hand through his silky white locks, eyeing you carefully. “Do you want them to order something specific? Just because me and you will never be anything, doesn’t mean I want you to starve in my fucking house.”
“Nah, I like everything they have here,” you finish the wine in a gulp, an unladylike one that makes Satoru raise his brows, standing then, sighing. “It’s hard to eat when you can’t stop crying, when you constantly feel sick to your stomach knowing the man you live with hates your existence.”
You walk up and he says your name, you pause and look back at him. “I never said don’t eat, yeah?”
“No, you didn’t. But her lipstick is all over your neck, and up on that collar,” he touches it then, looking at the crimson on his pale fingertips. You step up to him, so close you inhale that scent. “Can you buy your sluts some decent fucking perfume, aren’t you rich?”
“What the fuck!?” You smile, you’ve never cussed, but it feels amazing in that moment, seeing him sputter. “What are you going on about, and what’s got your ass so fucking peppy?”
“Their knock off perfume, it’s all over you, every night. Buy them some Chanel or something, yeah? Not like you have to buy me anything, I have my own money. The scent makes me nauseous,” you turn again, Satoru grips your wrist, making you pause for just a moment, shutting your eyes.
Nothing, he feels nothing.
“Thought you didn’t cuss?”
“You don’t know me and you don’t want to.”
He lets you go, no argument, just quiet.
“I’m starting training at the gym,” you mention quietly. “I’ll be going there tomorrow.”
“Some yoga class?”
“Boxing.”
Satoru blinks, you just smile, tugging your wrist out of his grip. “You? Boxing?”
“Mhm, good night Gojo.”
You head up the stairs to your room, falling back on the bed, shutting your eyes, feeling good for the first time since that engagement party, for the first time in months there was something brimming under the surface. Some sort of hope.
Tonight you don’t hear him moaning, or talking to his girls, it’s quiet, and you’re thankful, shutting your eyes and falling into a deep sleep.
You’re haunted by two sets of eyes, two sets of hands, blue ones that are glaring, red ones that are hungry, long thin fingers choking your neck, suffocating you, thick ones painted black freeing you. Torn between them, claustrophobic in the darkness, where all you can see are their eyes.
You wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, holding your racing heart, thrumming against your palm, before you fall back asleep, and there is only one pair of eyes.
And they’re red.
Tysm AGAIN for 30k my loves <3 this will be a doozy
Patreon for more exclusive fics - Kofi link if you wanna buy me a glass🍷
Yandere idea, reader is dicks baby mama and when dick decides to bring her to the wayne manor the batboys are instantly smitten with her and now all the boys are trying to steal her away from dick who is ready to fight everyone for his baby mama and baby
Smooth Criminal
Synopsis: Dick's brothers want his baby and his baby mama.
Pairing: Soft!Yandere!Batboys X Fem!AFAB!Reader
Tw: Attempt at crackfic; Implied kidnaping; Implied babytrapping; Reader is insecure with post-pregnancy body; Implied forced relationship; Dick controls what Reader wears; Jealous and possessive Dick Grayson; Touchy batboys; Batboys try to gaslight Dick but he's too smart for that; Slightly angry!Reader and accepting!Reader; English isn't my first language.
Word count: 1,2k
Requested? Yes.
Extra notes: Lol this was fun. Divider.
General masterlist
“And how did this happen?”
“Oh well, this one tried to hide the little one from me for a while, but of course I found them!” Dick exclaimed proudly, but with a hint of his (mostly) past anger at you. You bit your tongue while his family laughed.
You were sitting in the manor’s living room, wearing a sundress that Dick chose, waiting for the picnic on the gardens to be prepared by Alfred. The dress was pretty, and it had plenty of room for your babygirl to grow inside your belly without restricting you. Part of you wanted to resent her for being the reason you're stuck with Dick, but it was not her fault, and not yours either, Dick would shackle you to him one way or another.
Damian put his hand on your belly. Without your permission.
“Is she kicking yet?” Dick answered him for you. “You're 17 weeks along, it could happen anytime.” He started rubbing circles on your belly, out of nowhere. “I don't think Grayson would be a much useful help with that. Truthfully there is no sure way to make a baby stop kicking. But you can try to alleviate the discomfort with warm tea, calming music, light stretching exercises and rubbing the stomach.” He smiled gently. You were taken aback.
“Damian is a pediatric surgeon.” Dick explained while draping his arm over your shoulders, before planting his lips on your neck momentarily.
“Yes. But I mostly stick to managing my clinic nowadays. Your labour’s in good hands. I only have the best of the best on my teams.” Damian gave you a small, soft smile, as if trying to reassure you. He stopped his hand movements and smoothly slid his hands around each side of your waist. He was way too close to be comfortable, and even Dick frowned, confused, at that. You tensed at how close his face was from yours, especially because of your belly and chest grownth, and the fact he was kneeling in front of you. But then- Oh…
Your whole body relaxed instantly and you just had to close your eyes.
Damian grinned smartly and Dick looked at him, bewildered.
“Back pains.” He explained swiftly, while his magic hands worked on your back. You found yourself leaning against his chest and almost laying your head on his shoulder. You sighed dreamily. “You can stop by or call me anytime those get to be too much.”
“... Or I can do it myself.” Dick went to replace Damian's hands but you shot your arms out towards him to stop him.
“No, no, no, don't- don't stop…” You moaned when Damian kneaded a particularly tense knot and practically melted against him. Damian held back a smirk, staring innocently at Dick, who looked murderous.
“Thank you, Jay. I really needed that…”
“I know, you looked so tense when I got here. I knew I could use my hands to loosen you up…”
Dick bursted in the apartament, having just come back from the Titans Tower and heard the weird talk inside.
“Jay… What’re you doing here?” He said, strained, but hiding behind a mask of good humor.
“(N/N) called me.” Jason shrugged.
“Didn't know you were on nickname basis…” Dick contemplated, entering the room and taking your daughter from Jasons’ arms. He started rocking her to keep her doozing.
“We're closer than you think, Dickie.” Jason snorted. You pursed your lips and decided to just keep sitting down on your rocking chair.
“Love, why did you call him?” Dick asked, ignoring his brother and looking straight at you.
“The shower broke, your baby wouldn't stop crying, and I’m gross.” You crossed your arms.
“Seem’s to me someone’s slacking on the job…” Your eyes darted to Jason, wide, and ready to scream at him, even if it would make your daughter wake up. “Not you, sweetheart, never you. But your boy here certainly needs to step up.” He side-eyed Dick. It was unfair, Dick basically took over 90% of the baby’s care when he was home, because he was a good father, and he was slightly afraid you would run if given the chance. He even stopped working just to spend more time with you. The only reason he was away for days and didn't take you with him was because of something with the Titans and some guy called Deathstroke. You didn't really care to pay attention to anything he said as long as it didn't involve your life or the world’s safety.
“You're an asshole, get out of here!”
Jason smirked.
“Can’t. Just put a bun in the oven for (Y/N).” He shrugged.
“WHAT?” You and Dick exclaimed at the same time.
“I’m baking some bread, relax…”
“I need some help…” You were in a clothes store with your husband and his brothers, trying to find a dress for an upcoming gala that you didn't want to go, especially since your body changed during pregnancy, and your previous size isn't fitting the way you wanted to anymore. It’s especially annoying that Dick has to give you permission or order you to wear something, regardless of your opinion.
Before Dick could hand the newborn over to her uncle and get up to help you zip the back of your dress, Tim shot up from his seat.
“I’ll do it.”
Tim stood behind you and clasped the zipper between his fingers, before pulling it up. It went smoothly, until it reached your upper back and it wouldn't go up anymore. You felt embarrassment sink in the bottom of your heart, and before Tim could say something, you turned around.
“It doesn't fit, I should try something else.” You averted your gaze to the floor.
“Nonsense. You look stunning right now, (Y/N). It's just your…” Tim’s gaze flicked to your chest momentarily, before quickly staring at your eyes again. “... New curves. Let me use both hands and I’m sure it will fit.” He smiled at you, soft, reassuring, and trying to convince you really bad.
You let out a huff of breath from your nose, and begrudgingly turned again. Truth to his words, with his other hand gripping the fabric above the zipper, it went up smoothly again.
You pursed your lips, analyzing yourself in the mirror. It was tight, but not uncomfortable, red, and long, with a high slit showing off your thigh. But the cleavelange was a little too much to what you were used to.
“I don't know…”
“Oh, please…” Tim, still standing behind you, placed both hands on either side of your waist and squeezed. You felt momentary shivers run up your spine, and your face warmed from shyness. “You look beautiful. Really.”
“Timmy, back down. The wife is mine.” I’m not an object! Your mind screamed, while you held back the urge to clench your hands and stomp your feet.
“I’m not doing anything.” He shrugged. “If you’re so insecure, that's a ‘you’ problem.” Tim winked at you from the mirror, with a convinced half-smirk. “What do you think, (N/N)? I think he's just jealous that you and the little one like me more…”
“The baby doesn't like you more. She likes anyone who will give her junk food and new toys. You're not special.” Dick retorted, and Tim squeezed your hips. “Now back down before people think you're a couple.”
“Geez…”
Like, comment and reblog 🥰
mussume ronshaku @barb1eshit - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
