A Birthday Fit For A Thief

Burnt Bridges

(Dabi x Villain!Reader)

The first time Dabi left, it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. There were no explosive confrontations or sudden betrayals. It was just an absence that spread like a poison, slowly creeping through the air. You should have seen it coming, really. The signs were there, even if you didn’t want to acknowledge them. But you didn’t expect him to just leave.

He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t give you any warning. He just... vanished.

You had been partners in crime, partners in everything. Destruction. Chaos. He was fire, and you were the wind that fueled it. But now, in the wake of his absence, you felt like an ember, flickering in the cold.

You’d come back from a mission, bruised and bloodied as usual, but the familiar warmth of his presence wasn’t there to greet you. His side of the room was empty, the bed unmade. No smirk, no flame, no Dabi.

You should have been used to it, but you weren’t. The hole he left was jagged, painful, and the silence rang louder than any explosion you had ever caused. The night he left, you tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need him. You had always been able to go it alone before.

But this wasn’t the same.

You spent days — no, weeks — trying to drown out the void he’d left. You threw yourself into missions, into villain work, into destruction. But each kill, each robbery, each confrontation felt hollow. Something was missing. Someone was missing.

And it wasn’t just anyone. It was him.

You hated the way you couldn’t get him out of your mind, the way you felt like a part of you had been ripped away. And the anger? It burned inside you like an open wound. He had left you without so much as a word. No explanation, no apology. He just left. It wasn’t like Dabi to be this cold, this distant. But maybe he’d always been that way, and you’d just never realized it.

-------------------------------Time Skip------------------------------------

You didn’t expect to see him again. Not after everything. Not after he left without a trace, without a single word.

But there he was, standing at the center of the chaos, his flames dancing like an inferno, scorching everything in his path. He didn’t even look at you at first. Not until the smoke cleared, and you saw him standing there — taller, colder, more controlled than you remembered.

He was a walking blaze, but the heat was different now. It wasn’t the wild, unpredictable fire that used to send shivers of excitement down your spine. It was something calculated. Detached.

And that’s when it hit you. He hadn’t just left. He had changed. His flames weren’t the same, but neither were you.

The battle raged on, but you didn’t care about the heroes. You didn’t care about the villains. Your eyes were fixed on him, and the anger inside you bubbled over.

“You just left,” you spat as you approached him, the words sharp and filled with venom. “Without a word, without a fucking reason. You just left.”

Dabi’s expression was unreadable. His eyes, once filled with fire and intensity, were now cold, like nothing could touch him. It was like he was a different person altogether.

“I don’t owe you anything,” he muttered, his voice like gravel.

“No,” you shot back, your fists clenching. “You don’t owe me anything, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make you owe me an explanation.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t care if he wanted to fight or talk. You were done holding back. You were done pretending. His absence had carved deep scars inside you, and now you were going to burn everything down until he understood the weight of his silence.

-------------------------------Time Skip------------------------------------

The city was ablaze, but nothing compared to the fire inside you. You fought like an animal, driven by rage. Every punch you threw, every villain you took down, was a piece of the anger you couldn’t contain.

But the heat of the flames was different now. Even Dabi’s fiery presence was no longer enough to soothe the wound he’d left behind.

After the battle, you stood alone in the remnants of the wreckage. The sound of distant sirens was like a mocking reminder of everything you had lost. Everything he had taken. You didn’t know why you stayed here. Why you didn’t walk away.

Maybe it was the lingering hope that he’d finally talk to you. But after everything, you weren’t sure what you expected.

“Why the hell did you leave?” you demanded, your voice shaking with barely-contained fury.

Dabi didn’t respond right away. His eyes were cold, focused on the destruction around you. But then, finally, his gaze flicked to you. His lips curled into a thin, bitter smile.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” he said, his voice distant, almost disinterested.

The words hit you like a slap. You didn’t expect him to apologize. You didn’t expect him to beg for forgiveness. But this? This was worse. The indifference in his tone, the way he dismissed you as if you didn’t matter, as if you were just another part of his past he could burn away… It was more than you could handle.

“You think I didn’t care?” Your chest tightened, the anger threatening to swallow you whole. “You think I don’t care that you left me without even telling me? Without any warning, without any explanation?” Your voice rose, the fury in your words making the air around you crackle. “You’re a fucking coward, Dabi. A coward who ran when things got hard. You always leave when it gets too real. And I’m sick of it.”

He stepped forward, his gaze unwavering, the flames flickering at his side, but there was no emotion behind them. “I didn’t ask you to stay. You’re here because you chose to be.”

“And now I regret it,” you hissed, taking a step back, the fire in your eyes not matching the coldness in his. “You’re not the same, Dabi. You’re just a ghost. And I’m done chasing after you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze. There was no sound, no movement, just the two of you — separated by everything that had come between you.

Then, without another word, you turned away, leaving him standing in the flames.

John Constantine x Witch!Reader

Endless Banter & Snark – Constantine would never admit it outright, but the fact that you're slightly better at magic drives him insane. He hides it behind constant sarcasm, throwing comments like, “Yeah, yeah, show-off, let’s see if you can also make a pint appear in my hand.” (You do. Just to shut him up.)

Reluctantly Impressed – He watches you cast a spell he’d struggle with and just lights a cigarette, muttering, “Bloody hell...” before pretending he knew how to do that all along.

Competitive as Hell – He keeps trying to outdo you, even in the most ridiculous ways. If you exorcise a demon in five minutes, he tries to do it in four. If you fix a broken ward, he’s suddenly acting like it was faulty in the first place just so he can redo it.

Protective in His Own Way – He won’t admit it, but he worries about you getting tangled in the same kind of magical disasters he does. He warns you about messing with certain forces, even though you’re arguably more capable than him. If something actually does hurt you? Hell hath no fury like a pissed-off Constantine.

Drunken Magic Debates – After a few drinks, you two get into long-winded arguments about magic theory. “That’s not how that bloody rune works—” “Oh? Then why did it just work when I used it?” He groans and orders another drink.

Demon Magnet Duo – Demons and other supernatural beings hate you both but also find you very interesting. Sometimes they even try to pit you against each other, which is hilarious because you just team up and make their existence miserable.

The One Who Fixes His Screw-Ups – He won’t say it, but having you around is incredibly useful because, occasionally, even he digs himself into magical trouble he can’t get out of. You casually fix things, pat him on the shoulder, and say, “You’re lucky I like you.”

Constantine Being a Mess, You Being Over It – He shows up at your door, bloody and half-cursed, expecting a place to crash. You sigh, let him in, and then spend the next hour undoing whatever hex he pissed off this time.

The One Who Can Actually Call Him Out – Constantine gets away with a lot of things because he’s so good at talking his way out. But not with you. You see right through his crap, and the first time you call him out, he just stands there blinking like, “…Shit.”

Unspoken Mutual Trust – He never really trusts people, but you? You’re different. He won’t say it, but he knows if things go really bad, you’ll be the one standing by him, fixing things together—even if it means pulling his reckless ass out of the fire again.

Hi. Could you please write an Alpha Jason Todd x Beta Reader? You don't have to but it would be a good story. 👍

More Than Enough

Alpha!Jason x Beta!Reader

The apartment was cold. Too quiet. Too empty.

Jason hated it.

He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, breaths coming too sharp, too ragged. His rut had passed days ago, but the aftermath still clung to him like a ghost—exhaustion, frustration, the bitter taste of loneliness.

He wasn’t supposed to be alone.

But you were gone.

Not because you wanted to be, not really. Jason had made sure of that. Had pushed you away with sharp words and colder actions, because what was a Beta supposed to do with an Alpha during rut? What could you do?

Nothing.

That’s what he told himself every damn time he forced himself to keep his distance.

And now?

Now, the sheets didn’t smell like you anymore. Now, the only heartbeat in the apartment was his own, and it sounded all wrong. Now, he was left with nothing but the echo of his own damn mistakes.

The door unlocked.

Jason’s head snapped up, breath catching. He swore he was imagining things until he saw you step inside, arms full of takeout bags, looking at him like you hadn’t spent the last few days giving him space he never really wanted.

“…You look like shit,” you said, shutting the door behind you.

Jason exhaled, a shaky, uneven thing that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Feel like it, too.”

You crossed the room, setting the food down before sitting next to him, close but not touching. “Didn’t think you’d actually eat if I didn’t come back.”

He didn’t deny it. Couldn’t.

The silence stretched, and for a moment, Jason braced himself for you to leave again. For you to say something final. Instead, you sighed, leaning against him, letting your warmth seep into the cracks he’d been too stubborn to acknowledge.

“You don’t get to do that again,” you murmured, voice soft but firm.

Jason swallowed. “I—”

“You don’t get to decide what I can handle, Jason.” You tilted your head, looking up at him with something unreadable in your eyes. “You’re my person, rut or not. Got it?”

Jason inhaled sharply. The knot in his chest loosened, just a little. He nodded.

“…Yeah. Got it.”

You huffed, satisfied, then nudged a takeout bag toward him. “Good. Now eat before I force-feed you.”

Jason cracked a real smile, small but there. And as he picked up the food, he finally let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

First off, plz post Chapter 2 of 'The Making of a Villain' 🙏

(Only if you want to, I ain't forcing you to do anything)

Second! I had just some small ideas that I couldn't get out of my head. They're just fun small things I guess...

So like, I just imagine some of the ways Duck would be disruptive for the bats.

Like, they are able to lock most of the computers down at the Wayne tower or something, leading to 'Ah, ah, ah. You didn't say the magic word' from Jurassic park playing on loop every time someone tries to unlock the computers

Or, or. During an important mission, Duck disrupts their communications by playing 'Barbiegirl' on loop at max volume, making the vigilantes unorganized, and making the mission even harder

Idk, stoic chaos gremlin is just right up my alley

They'll make your day hell via pure chaos, and won't even crack a smile

Anywho, stay hydrated!!

- 🐇

Firstly, I'm giving you a kiss on the head and a plate of cookies.

Secondly, I LOVE THESE IDEAS AND WILL BE USING THEM. I have ideas on how to use them, either in a later chapter or as another side story.

Like, waaaay after Duck left the batfam and went with the other villians (minus Joker, he can die in a ditch), they batfam are putting together important information regarding a big case Gordon wanted them on. And while in the middle of working, the screen goes black and the only on said screen is "AH, AH, AH, SAY THE MAGIC THE WORD" in big bold letters and on loop, with an annoying song in the background.

The batfam are confused and concerned, and slightly annoyed, as to how someone was able to hack into the batcomputer and leave this message ON LOOP OF ALL THINGS meanwhile Duck is just sitting in a comfy chair in their lair, watching all of this go down from the little camera placed in a spot no one looks.

A smirk playing on thier lips, watching their former family scramble to figure out what happened.

I LOVE YOUR IDEAS, GIVE ME MORE. Please and thank you!

Also, thanks for reminding to hydrate! haven't had water today.

I WILL BE POSTING CHAPTER 2 IN A FEW MINUTES BTW!

Also skull what readers do you write for?

hmm, currently I write Gender Neutral, Female, and Male.

When I have more confidence in my skills, I'll venture out but that it's for now.

Thanks for asking, Hermes!

I'll pop in with a prompt

✨ Superman x Reader where Superman falls in love with a Kansas farm girl ✨

- 🧑🏼‍🍳

A Quiet Retreat

Superman X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1: The Weight of the World

The city lights flickered in the distance, a blur of orange and white beneath a starry sky. Superman, bruised and battered from his latest battle, flew above Metropolis with a quiet urgency. His body ached, muscles sore from the relentless fight with the alien warlord. The world was safe, for now. The villain had been stopped, but the weight of the battle lingered in the air. It was always like this—he would win, but the cost never seemed to get any easier.

He needed a break. Desperately.

The world depended on him, but who would protect him when the burden became too heavy? He couldn’t keep running on empty. His responsibilities were endless, and sometimes the pressure suffocated him. The countless lives he’d saved, the never-ending battles, the constant reminder that he was different—he was the world’s protector, but there was no one to protect him.

So, he did what he always did when the strain of being Superman became too much: he retreated to the one place that had always offered him a sense of peace. He needed to remember who he was beyond the cape. He needed to be Clark Kent again, if only for a short time.

Clark didn’t land in Metropolis. Instead, he set a course for the one place that had shaped him—Smallville.

The familiar, rolling fields of Kansas awaited him, and though he had been away for years, they still felt like home. The crisp, open sky greeted him, the air full of the sweet scent of earth and grass. He took a deep breath as he descended toward the quiet town, feeling the tension in his body slowly begin to ease.

It had been a long time since Clark had come back to Smallville for anything other than business. This time, though, there would be no interviews or press conferences—no reporters or crowds clamoring for his attention. He was just Clark Kent, the son of Jonathan and Martha Kent, returning to his roots. He’d parked his car by the old farmhouse, and now he found himself walking through the familiar dirt roads, away from the noise of the world.

That’s when he spotted it—an old farmhouse just at the edge of the hill. The porch light flickered softly, a warm, welcoming glow in the quiet evening. His eyes shifted to the small garden beside the house, where a young woman in worn jeans and a faded flannel shirt knelt in the dirt, her hands moving with practiced ease as she tended to her plants. She hummed a soft tune under her breath, lost in the tranquility of the moment.

Clark paused, a quiet curiosity pulling him closer. He hadn’t seen her around before. She didn’t look like she was from the town, but there was something about her that made him feel like he wasn’t the only one in search of peace.

Without thinking, he walked up to the porch, careful to keep his distance as to not startle her. It wasn’t like him to intrude on someone’s solitude, but something about her presence, the calm that radiated from her, made him want to know more.

The woman didn’t seem to notice him at first, her focus entirely on the rows of vegetables she was pulling from the earth. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat gently that she finally looked up, her eyes meeting his with a spark of surprise, quickly followed by cautious curiosity.

“Oh,” she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I didn’t see you there. Can I help you with something?”

Clark blinked, caught off guard by her ease, her voice warm yet unbothered by his sudden presence. "I... I was just passing by," he said, offering her an easy smile, trying to keep things casual. "I’m Clark. Just visiting the old town. Needed to get away from the noise for a while.”

The woman straightened, brushing the dirt off her hands with a sigh of satisfaction before extending her hand. "Nice to meet you, Clark. I'm Y/N. Welcome to the farm."

Clark took her hand, surprised by the strength in her grip and the way her gaze seemed to appraise him without judgment. “A farm, huh? That’s a good place to get away from the noise.”

Y/Nchuckled softly, her eyes crinkling at the edges. “You’d be surprised. Some of the loudest things around here are the chickens. But it’s peaceful. Most of the time.”

Clark could sense that there was more to her than just the calm exterior—the sharp wit and the quiet self-assurance. The simplicity of her life was something he hadn’t experienced in years. He felt himself relax, the constant hum of his superhero life momentarily silenced in her presence.

“I could use some peace right now,” Clark admitted, glancing around at the farm, at the serenity she had cultivated in the middle of the vast Kansas plains. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

Y/N gave him a knowing smile. “I get that. Life can be overwhelming, but you’d be surprised what a little time outside can do. I’d offer you some lemonade, but I’m guessing you’re not here for that.”

“Lemonade sounds nice,” Clark said with a chuckle, his tension starting to ease. “But I’d just like to sit for a while. If that’s okay?”

“Of course.” Y/N gestured to the rocking chairs on the porch, the evening sky beginning to paint itself with hues of pink and purple. “There’s always room for someone who needs a break.”

Clark nodded gratefully, following her to the porch and sitting in one of the rocking chairs. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt his shoulders relax, the weight of the world momentarily lifted by the simple act of sitting beside a stranger, away from the chaos of his double life.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For now.

Insomniac's Masterlist

This is where you can find every fic I've currently written for different fandoms!

This is still a work in progress but wanted to make it easier for myself and others to find the fics I've written thus far. Please be patient while I get it figured out. Thanks!

Edit: I tried to make it more organized, gave up. That will be a laters problem when I have more fics posted and it gets confusing.

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

DCxDP Fics:

Blood and Ectoplasm

Batfam Fics:

Operation: Sweet Tooth

Valentine's Day

3am Crackfic

Batbaby

Dadman: Rise of Cringe Pt.2

Bruce x Hal:

Headcanons

Caffine and Capes

John Constantine:

John x Witch!Reader

Alpha!Jason Todd:

Safe in His Scent

Wrapped in Red

Burning for You

More Than Enough

Dick Grayson (Nightwing):

Tilt-a-Heart

Duke Thomas:

Golden Hour

Superman:

A Quiet Retreat

Logan Howlette (Wolverine):

Not the Celebrating Type

Just This Once

Cabin Quiet, Cabin Warm

Oswald Cobblepot (Penguin):

One for the Birds

Flynn Rider:

A Birthday Fit for a Thief

MHA:

Your Name Was Hope (shigaraki x reader)

Burnt Bridges (dabi x reader)

...

Oh. my. everything!!!!

I just got around to reading chapter 2 (was my b-day yesterday, so I've been busy :]), and I love it!!!

Seeing Croc as a mentor wasn't what I expected, but I love that so much!! Him, and probably Harley would be the ones who would have been the best mentors out of the rouges gallery. Imo at least

Now that just makes me think of what Duck's relation is with all the villains. Ofc, Joker can go die in a ditch, but like, would Harley and Ivy be like, aunties towards Duck? Or at least friendly on the most part?

I'm sure Selena would be, considering they've got a cat themselves!

I just imagine, that Duck is like, the only one Croc tolerates being near, or accidentally touching him, after they've known each other for a long while.

Keep up the amazing work! And remember to hydrate! <3 <3

- 🐇

BUNNY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! HOPE IT WAS A GOOD DAY!

I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND WHEN I SAY YOU'VE READ MY MIND. I HAVE A LIST OF HOW THE VILLIANS WOULD TREAT DUCK.

If you want that list, I can and will post it, much like the Batfam list.

I would have to say that Croc, Ivy, Harley, and Selina were probably the main 4 to teach Duck the ways, with the others teaching Duck every once in awhile but none of them where ever mean!

I can tell you this, the rouges all fucking love Duck would do anything for them!

They see someone hurting Duck badly in a fight? They are on the person's ass in 0.5 seconds.

Also, Selina was def the one that gifted Duck their cat once they became their own villain. I could see Ivy giving them some plants that don't need much taking care of while Harley would gift them some weapons or a book on how to analyze people.

Croc would probably just give them a pat on the back or something and say "proud of you" but is their biggest supporter. Duck can go to him, or anyone else, for help or for anything really.

Also, side note, AUTOCORRECT KEPT CHANGING DUCK TO FUCK SO IF I MISSED ONE, LET ME KNOW. 😭

Hear me out:

How would y'all feel if I wrote a fic for Valentine's Day?

Not an actual fic (maybe) but more like, headcanons of the batfam

Hmmm...

The Making of a Villain - Chapter 0

You were villainized long before the thought of becoming one ever crossed your mind. 

They called you reckless when you were daring. Careless when you were creative. Every idea you offered was met with polite silence—or worse, a nod followed by someone else taking credit minutes later. And when things went wrong, even disasters you weren’t near, the blame found you like clockwork. A raised brow. A disappointed look. A quiet, “We’ll talk later.” Somehow, it was always you. 

It wasn’t hate. That would’ve been easier. Hate is loud, messy, obvious. What they gave you was neglect. Quiet dismissal. The kind that sinks into your skin and makes you question if you ever mattered at all. 

So, you stopped trying. 

Stopped talking. Stopped offering. Stopped hoping. 

And in the silence they left you in, something new began to grow. 

A different kind of brilliance. One that didn’t need their approval, their guidance, or their rules. Something sharp. Strategic. Patient. 

If they wanted you to be the big bad villain so badly, you'd make sure to exceed their wildest expectations. 

And oh, how they’ll wish they had seen you sooner.