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fettuccin-e · 1 year

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The Wonderful Way Things Change

A/N: hi there everyone... shamefully, very shamefully, I have not posted anything original since i think like february. it was an unplanned hiatus! promise it was completely unplanned, this semester just really kicked my ass lol. BUT HERE WE ARE! with matt smut of course how could I not because he is the loml so please enjoy! love you!

Description: Based off this ask, and can be read as a loose sequel to this (my first ever fanfic oh boy oh boy). In which Foggy calls you to check in on Matt, and the sight of your boyfriend all disheveled in a suit is making you a tad desperate. Thankfully, neither of you have the self-control to keep your hands to yourselves.

Tags: Matt Murdock x Reader, afab!fem!reader, no use of y/n, smut like so much smut who do you think I am, fucking Matty in a suit, oral (f!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids) (w/c: 2.5K)

Yours and Matt’s relationship is new, somewhat, but you both know that it’s been a long time coming. It’s only been a few weeks since he finally kissed you for the first time, since he healed your poor, pining heart. It’s not like other relationships you’ve had, with the talking stage at the beginning, where you’re still asking each other about your childhoods, favorite movies, and songs. You and Matt already know everything about each other.

He knows about your shitty job that you hate but manages to pay the bills. He knows all about your childhood, all of your hopes and dreams. Up until a few weeks ago, the only secret you’d kept from him was your frankly ridiculous crush on him.

But you know that it’s the same way for him. You already know about Daredevil, and to Matt’s unending surprise, you accept him, love him for who he is. You don’t want him to give up either side of himself; you’re happy to just have him. Matt is still trying to get used to the feeling of actually having you, instead of just being by your side, letting you slip through his fingers.

Up until a few weeks ago, Matt had resigned himself to only being your friend. The friendship he’d found in you at Columbia would remain just that. Unbeknownst to him, you’d resigned yourself the exact same way. But a misunderstanding and a frustrated and ridiculously dramatic love confession later, you’d finally kissed him like he’d only dreamed of. You’d allowed him to touch you like he’d always wanted, and Matt could swear that he’s never felt anything softer, never tasted anything sweeter than you.

So the relationship is new, but it also feels like you and Matt have just been waiting, settling into routines like you’ve been together for years. You know how Matt is, how he’ll bury himself into cases and recordings and court documents, searching for that one bit of evidence that proves his client is innocent. He sends Foggy and Karen home on nights like these, insisting that they need to sleep, that they work too hard as is.

“He’s gonna be there for hours,” Foggy tells you over the phone. “You’ve gotta get him out of there or he’s going to collapse.” You laugh, pulling on your coat and stepping out of Matt’s apartment.

Ever since you had both confessed your feelings for each other, and Matt had finally, finally taken you to bed, you had more or less moved in. It hadn’t been intentional, nor had Matt officially asked you, but the one time you had broached the subject of maybe sleeping at your own apartment, Matt’s arms had wrapped around you, holding you to him while he pressed desperate kisses all over your face and neck, telling you that his apartment was so cold without you there.

“C’mon, sweetheart, haven’t we spent more than enough time apart?” he had murmured, and you had agreed.

“Yeah, alright Fog, I’m heading over there now. I’ll make sure you have a well-rested partner by tomorrow,” you giggle into the phone, and you laughed even harder at Foggy’s genuine sigh of relief.

“Christ, how did Nelson, Murdock and Page survive without you and Matt together?”

“It’s truly a mystery, Foggy,” you tease, and Foggy laughs with you. He keeps you on the phone the entire walk to their office building, filling you in on the cases he, Karen, and Matt are working on. You could talk to Foggy for hours, really, but he lets you go as you walk up the steps to their offices. With a promise to talk soon, maybe take a trip to Josie’s, you hang up, shoving your phone into your coat pocket.

You can hear the recording Matt is listening to through the door to his office, some judge droning on and on. You enter the room quietly, heart beating wildly at Matt in his sharp suit, without his glasses, hair mussed from his fingers running through it the way they usually do when he’s working through a case. You watch as a smile blooms across his pretty lips, his eyes lifting to your direction as he pauses the recording.

“Hi, baby,” he says, and his sheer beauty in that moment nearly brings you to your knees. This man, with his hair sticking up in every direction, his tie slightly loosened at his chest, big brown eyes and wide smile is yours. All yours. You can’t help how your heart beats even harder at the thought.

You watch his grin meld into a knowing smirk as he listens to the quick pattering of your heartbeat. “Something got you worked up, sweetheart?”

You hum, crossing the room to where he sits in his office chair. “Oh, you know,” you drawl, trying to keep your voice coy and light, even though you know that your heart is giving away your sudden desperation for the man in front of you. “I’m just thinking about all of the things I get to do now.”

“To me?” He’s playing coy too, trying to goad you.

“Always to you, Matty,” you giggle, and he chuckles in return. You swing a leg over his lap, straddling him and relishing in how his chuckle morphs into a choked gasp.

“What- What kinds of things, gorgeous?” his voice is breathier now, beautifully affected by your actions.

“Just how I can do things like this,” you wrap your hand into his tie, tugging him towards your mouth. “And things like this-” you breathe over his mouth, before capturing his pretty, enticing lips with your own.

Matt groans into the kiss, smoothing his hands over your hips before reaching behind you to grab your ass in his big, thick hands, tugging you further up his lap. Your clothed pussy rests just over the bulge of his cock through his slacks, and you can feel it thickening beneath you.

“And you call me worked up, Matty?” you murmur against his mouth, wiggling in his lap and pulling a soft moan from his lips.

“When my gorgeous girlfriend walks into my office, smelling like my apartment and so fucking soft on top of me,” he says, squeezing your ass again, “how can you expect me to be calm, baby?”

Your stomach bursts into butterflies at the title. You’re his girlfriend. He’s your boyfriend. It feels so very juvenile, like you’re twenty years old again and still trying to get through calculus class. Maybe it’s because you’ve been waiting that long. Waiting for him, since you first met him and Foggy at Columbia. It feels so far away now, so different, and yet, you still burn bright and warm with Matt’s attention on you. Calling you his girlfriend.

He shifts his hips under yours, the bulge of his thick cock against your pussy impossible to ignore, and you whine, just barely, but Matt hears. Of course he does.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “So fucking needy.” He lurches forward again to press his lips to yours, licking into your mouth.

“Please, Matty,” you whisper, and he groans into your mouth all over again. He doesn’t separate his mouth from yours as he lifts you against him, using a hand to brush the cumbersome documents and files off the desk behind you, before laying you softly against it, running his hands over your waist and kissing you like you’re something precious.

But you are, Matt knows that you are the most precious thing in the fucking world. And you want him. Matt can hardly believe it sometimes; he still sometimes thinks he’s dreaming when he feels you in the morning, pressed tight against him, your heart calm and steady with sleep.

He licks into your mouth like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and what a way to go. He could stay in this moment forever, kissing you while your hands tangle into his hair. But your sexy little whines are echoing around him, your hips moving in desperate little circles against the aching bulge in his slacks.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispers, and you just whine louder. It’s a nearly painful thing, taking his lips from yours, but he can fucking smell your arousal, and the need to dive between your thighs is suddenly too much for him to handle.

You kind of want to cry when Matt breaks your kiss, but your mourning at the loss of his lips is quickly cut short by his thick, calloused hands pushing your skirt up your thighs, leaving the material to bunch around your waist. He nudges his nose against your clit through your panties, taking a deep breath in through his nose, savoring it, and you nearly black out.

“Oh- oh my God,” you stutter, and Matt smirks in that ridiculously cocky way you hate that you love.

“I mean, I go by Matt, but if you want to call me God-” Matt starts, tugging your panties down your legs.

“Matthew Michael Murdock, I swear-” You want to continue, you really do, but it’s really hard to keep your train of thought when Matt is leaning down and licking a long stripe up your soaked pussy, swirling around your clit and making your hips buck up uncontrollably. He quickly braces a forearm over your twitching body, holding you still with his strength while he eats your pretty cunt.

“So fucking wet for me, gorgeous,” he mutters between your thighs, the vibrations feeling like shockwaves up your spine. “So pretty, baby, could’ve been eating this pretty cunt since college.”

You can barely form a sentence, only able to utter out whines of Matt, Matt Matt, between desperate moans as he licks into you. You can feel him grinning into your cunt, knowing he’s driving you fucking crazy, before he’s drawing up to capture your throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks. He brings his free hand up to sink a thick finger into your needy entrance, crooking it up and pressing into a spot inside that makes white creep into the edges of your vision. He just sucks and sucks, swirling his tongue around our achy clit and playing with you like a toy.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, unexpected and brutal, and you would have thrashed off the desk if it weren’t for Matt’s strong arms holding you steady. He carries you through it, licking at you softly while he keeps his finger inside, giving your pussy something to clutch onto. As your hips finally stop twitching, Matt rises, leaning over you again, and you can’t help but tug at his tie again, dragging his mouth to yours, uncaring of the taste of your pussy covering his lips.

“Please fuck me, Matty, oh god, please. Need you in me, baby,” you whine, and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how needy you sound. Matt groans, sounding just as desperate as he licks into your mouth. He takes his hands from your body to reach down, undoing his belt and slacks just enough to tug his aching cock out. He’s so hard it’s nearly painful, the head sticky and red and throbbing with the need to fuck you. To claim you.

You wrap your arms over his back, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as he sinks into your sensitive pussy. As he finally bottoms out, you lean back to look at him, at his big eyes staring just off your face, his mouth slightly agape.

“I thought about this, y’know,” you whisper, your nails digging into his back as he presses just a bit deeper inside. “Every time I brought you guys lunch, I-” you moan softly as Matt thrusts, hard and so fucking deep you swear you swear you can feel him in your guts. “I thought about you, fucking me on this desk, in-in this fucking suit, god, Matt.”

“Shit, baby,” he grunts, rocking into you so hard the desk rattles beneath you. You can barely pay attention to it, not when the tip of Matt’s thick cock is grinding into the spot inside you that makes you scream, your nails digging into the soft fabric covering his back. “I thought about you too, god, you have no idea, sweetheart.” You can only whine in response as he continues, “You’d bring us all lunch, wearing your little uniform, fuck, with that pretty skirt and those heels.”

Matt’s hands tighten over your hips, forcing you to meet him thrust for thrust, and it’s so fucking good. You can’t manage to answer him through your desperate whines of his name and choked moans as his thick cock stretches you out for him, but Matt’s still talking. You don’t know if he can stop.

“I could hear your thighs brushing together under that tight fucking skirt, your heels clicking up the hall, and all I could think about was ruining you. Ripping that skirt off you and making you beg for my cock,” he grunts, driving desperately into your soaked pussy. Your head is swimming, drowning in Matt’s words, his scent, his cock.

“Now I can, baby,” he grunts, voice breaking on a choked moan. “I can fuck you just how I’ve wanted, make this pretty pussy soak my cock. Can wake up to you in my bed, fuck you whenever I want, whenever you want, baby, fuck I’m yours. You hear me, angel? I’m yours.” Matt can feel your pussy fluttering desperately around his cock, and snakes a hand between your bodies to press a thumb over your clit.

He leans over you, his tie loose and dangling over your face as he growls, “and you’re mine. Mine.”

And you’re gone, pussy tightening like a vice around Matt’s thick cock, screaming his name. Little tears escape your eyes, dripping down your cheeks as Matt groans your name in return, hips stuttering into yours and flooding your overwhelmed pussy with his cum. You can hear him, just barely, through the roar of blood in your ears as he whispers, “So good, baby, so perfect. Love you so much, so much, you have no idea. I love you, loved you for so fucking long, angel.”

You bring your hands up to tangle your fingers into his soft hair, bringing him to your lips, whispering a soft “I love you so much, Matty,” in return before meeting him in a soft kiss. His smile against your mouth is blinding, endlessly joyful, and slightly delirious.

He’s still buried inside you a few minutes later, when you finally whisper, “I’m not sure this is what Foggy had in mind when he sent me over here.”

“If this is what Foggy had in mind, I might have to send him a fruit basket, or buy him a round,” Matt chuckles, and you smack him lightly on the shoulder before you’re laughing too. Matt smiles, unable to believe that you’re his, before he cuts your giggling off with a loving kiss.

#hey I'm back #with daredevil smut #what else did you expect #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock smut #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil fanfiction

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dodger-chan · 4 months

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Look we all have to write the steddie flirting through DnD scene don't we?

Consider this a Christmas gift if you celebrate and something to do while everything's closed if you don't.

“How touchable are my boobs in this?”

“I think I’m falling in love with Eddie.” Steve replied. He had not meant to say that. He’d been helping Robin pick out clothes for her date with Vickie that night, and the thought had just hit him. Steve tried again. “Your boobs look great. Vickie will definitely want to slip her hands under that shirt.”

“Perfect.” Robin threw herself down on her bed next to Steve. “Let's go back a few seconds. Why do you think you’re falling for Eddie?”

“I stole one of Dustin’s old DnD manuals and I’ve been looking through it to figure out how their nerd game works. I bought my own copy of Sacred Heart. And I'm trying to read The Hobbit for the third time.”

He was forty-eight pages in, the farthest he’d made it yet. He might make it through the whole book this time, now that he’d decided he could skip the songs.

“Oh, it’s like when you studied for the SATs with Nancy!”

“Even though I’d already taken the exam. Exactly.” Steve sighed. “It’s been going on for weeks. How did I not notice until now?”

“Because you’ve spent most of your life purposefully ignoring it when you liked a guy.” Robin ruffled his hair. “Hey, at least finding him hot isn’t news, right?”

“Yay for small victories, I guess.” Steve fixed the mess Robin had made. “But what do I do about it?”

----------

A part of Steve had wanted to show up in his rattiest t-shirt and jeans, to do his best to blend in with the rest of the club. But it wasn’t like the other guys didn’t know who he was. And Steve wanted to find out if Eddie might like him, not some nerd that looked like him. So Steve wore a polo shirt and his best jeans. The only way he could have looked less like he belonged was if he’d pulled his letterman out from the back of his closet.

“Are you playing with us Harrington?” Eddie asked when Steve sat down at the table.

“Um, is that okay? Bobbie had a thing come up and she asked me to sub in for her.” Robin’s thing had been a second date with Vickie. At his house, so the girls could kiss without worrying about getting caught. Steve needing to spend four hours in the Wheeler basement gave them plenty of alone time, too. “I might need some help with the math, but Robs gave me a character sheet and some basic instructions.”

Eddie and his friends exchanged looks. Steve really hoped they weren’t going to tell him to get lost.

“Steve? You’re playing?” Dustin practically threw himself down the stairs when he saw Steve. “How did we finally convince you? Was it Robin? Where is she?”

“Robin’s busy. I’m her sub. If Munson’s cool with it?”

Faced with Dustin’s pleading eyes, Eddie didn’t stand a chance.

----------

Steve mostly kept quiet at first, observing how Eddie ran the game, what strategies the kids preferred to use. Mostly he let them make the decisions and when they were in combat he hit the biggest enemy with his morningstar until it stopped moving.

It felt kind of familiar, but way less painful.

After a little while, Steve thought he had the hang of it enough to try Robin’s plan.

“Wait a second,” he stopped Mike before they attacked the mysterious cloaked figure. “Isn’t everybody’s health kind of low?”

“We don’t have time to rest and heal, Steve.” Mike was being weirdly patient with him. “The enemy has already seen us.”

“Yeah, but I could try charming him instead of fighting. Robin said her character was supposed to be charming.” She’d had this long explanation about charisma that Steve hadn’t followed but she’d summed it up as flirt with the NPCs. “If I flirt with him, maybe he’ll let us by without a fight.”

“He’s a guy, Steve,” Dustin pointed out. “Robin’s character is also a guy.”

“Gay people exist.” One of the older Hellfire members, Steve thought his name was Gareth, spoke up. He hadn’t expected any of Eddie’s friends to help him out with this. The three of them had their eyes on Eddie.

Eddie wasn’t saying anything.

“He’s seduced at least one girl in every town we’ve passed through,” Lucas explained. “Usually two or three.”

“It’s kind of a running joke,” Will added.

“He could like both.” Steve said it with a casualness he did not feel. “Some people do.”

“Buckley’s not going to be upset you made her character a little gay?” Eddie asked him.

“Nah, she won’t mind.”

“Then roll for seduction.”

Right as he rolled, another of Eddie’s friends - Steve had missed his name during introductions - bumped into the table. The dice fell onto the floor and one rolled under the sofa.

This was apparently a catastrophe.

“We won’t be able to get the die without moving it! We’ll never know what you rolled!” Dustin whined.

“Couldn’t I just roll it again?” This was, for some reason, the worst question he could have asked, as it sparked a lecture on the sacred and inviolable nature of the dice rolls.

“Have him role play it,” Jeff suggested. Eddie shot his friend a dirty look.

Steve briefly wondered if Robin had been talking with the older members of Hellfire, but that didn’t seem likely. They wouldn’t have any reason to help him out.

“I don’t mind.”

“If that’s what you want.” Eddie shrugged. “Show us you can be as charming as your character.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m exactly as charming as Sir Dingus des Cheveux.” Steve wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or disturbed by how much Robin’s character was based on him. Though it certainly made playing him easier. “Tell me what I see.”

“I already did. Cloaked figure, no obvious weapon.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’d notice if I was looking for a fight. Can I see his hair? His face? His eyes?”

“Um, his hood is up, so no.” Right. Eddie was going to make this difficult.

“Okay so I step forward and I stand, uh, shit. It’s hard to describe.” Steve could be just as difficult. “Can we act it out?”

“Act it out?”

“I mean the NPCs are all you, right? So if you could stand in for this guy?” A lot of flirting was physical and, for Steve, automatic. He didn’t know exactly what he was doing until he was doing it.

“Do it, Eddie.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve always wanted to see The Hair at work.”

Eddie’s friends egged him on. Lucas nodded along with them. Dustin had grabbed a blank sheet of paper and seemed prepared to take notes. Will seemed somewhere between uncomfortable and fascinated. Only Mike looked unhappy about it, but that was just how Mike was.

Date a guy’s sister for a year and not even saving his life could make him smile at you.

Eddie rose from his seat.

“Okay, Harrington. Charm me.”

Steve stepped forward, until he was almost close enough to touch Eddie.

“Hi,” he said, tilting his head to one side. He smiled a slightly goofy smile that he knew invited teasing. “What’s a nice boy like you doing in a dungeon like this?”

Eddie burst out laughing.

“Seriously? That’s what you’re starting with?”

“Is that you or the character laughing?” Steve asked.

“Both.”

“You have a beautiful laugh.” Steve spoke in character. Eddie stopped laughing, surprised. “I bet your face is just as lovely.”

“He pushes his hood back to reveal the face of a drow. The face is not lovely, but scarred. One particularly nasty scar on his right cheek creates the illusion of a smile. He says, You lose.”

“I don't know about that.” Steve stepped a little closer and lifted his hand. “May I?”

Eddie nodded.

Steve pushed Eddie's hair away from his face, lightly brushing Eddie's scars. Taking care that the back of his thumb caressed the most prominent one, the one that tugged down the corner of Eddie's lip and gave his smile a permanent look of irony.

“You have the most expressive eyes I've ever seen,” Steve murmured. Eddie pulled back.

Shit. That wasn't in character. Steve tried again.

“I think I won, but I wouldn’t want to contradict anyone with such enchanting eyes.” He dropped the smile but kept the teasing tone. “What do I lose?”

“Your life,” Eddie replied, but his heart clearly wasn't in it.

“You don't want to kill me.” Steve’s smile widened. He'd won this round as soon as Eddie had laughed. “If you’re having trouble thinking up a forfeit, can I suggest a kiss?”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie said with another laugh. “You have successfully seduced the drow. He does not attack your party, or summon reinforcements. Your one night stand allows for a long rest. Because the drow is a cleric of Loviatar, you only recover half your health.”

“Worth it.” He winked at Eddie before sitting back down at the table. “Sir Dingus had an excellent time. Is there a fantasy version of asking for a guy’s number? In case I have to sub in for Rob again?”

He didn’t want to saddle Robin’s character with a boyfriend when Robin had been using him to flirt with girls, but he didn’t want to leave Eddie with the impression that Steve moved on from people as quickly as Sir Dingus did.

“The life of an adventurer is hardly conducive to long term relationships.” That did not answer Steve’s question. “But, he tells you his name is Ghauntel Kenduis and should he see you again, he will remember yours.”

--------

Dungeons and Dragons was not the worst way to spend an afternoon. The combat was kind of boring, and the bickering over what the party was going to do next made Steve sympathize with the guys who’d stuffed nerds into lockers.

Okay, DnD was not his thing at all and the only thing he really enjoyed about it was getting to flirt with Eddie.

Steve slid his hand over the scars on Eddie's neck. Slowly, carefully, he brought their lips together for a kiss.

Well, Eddie’s characters, which wasn’t exactly the same thing. And after that first time, he hadn’t had to do nearly as much roleplaying. But it was still fun.

“You kept breaking character,” Eddie commented when the game was finished for the day.

“What do you mean?” The kids had, unsurprisingly, vanished upstairs as soon as it was time to clean up. A little more surprising was that the rest of Hellfire had also cleared out, leaving Steve and Eddie alone.

“When you would flirt. You kept losing the characters. You’ve never played before, so flirting with me instead of my NPCs would be an easy mistake to make. Or…” Eddie trailed off. “Nah, you’re just bad at the game.”

“I mean, I am. And breaking character wasn’t something I tried to do on purpose.” Steve stepped close to Eddie again. Close enough to reach out and touch him. “But I kept doing it because I wanted to flirt with you.”

“Why?” Eddie asked. “I'm a freak and kind of an asshole a lot of the time. And I’m not exactly a pretty face these days.”

“Well, it turns out that weird and passionate nerds are kinda my type.” And Steve was sick of dating girls who weren't his type. “May I?”

Wordlessly, Eddie nodded.

Again, Steve pushed Eddie's hair back, tucking it behind his ear. Eddie leaned into Steve's touch.

“You really do have the most expressive eyes. I wish you didn't feel like you have to hide them.”

#stranger things #steddie #obligatory steve plays dnd fic #my fic

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neondiamond · 4 months

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🎁 Recently Read Fics - December 2023 🎁

These are all the amazing fics I read over the past month (from shortest to longest). Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show the authors your appreciation if you read any of these! ❤️

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A short, sweet snapshot of Niall and Shawn’s first holiday season living together.

🎁 to wake up by your side is all I wanna do by @beardyboyzx (1k, G)

Sometimes, Niall still thinks about the way Zayn’s laugh sounds when they watch TV and Niall makes up fake answers for whatever quiz show they’re watching.

🎁 Oh Christmas Three by @tommokat (1k, M)

A birthday surprise goes awry. Louis doesn’t understand. Harry blames the oven.

🎁 make my wish come true by @voulezloux (2k, NR)

the one where all harry wants for christmas is lou

🎁 Baby, please come home by @iysics (2k, T)

Breaking into his neighbour's house wasn't on Harry's Christmas checklist.

🎁 Stuck in Midnight Traffic by @letthemusicmoveyou28 (3k, M)

the one where two broken people meet in an empty tube car on Christmas Eve. Can they find a way to heal each other?

🎁 All The Way Home I’ll Be Warm by @justanothershadeofblue (3k, T)

Harry & Louis jokingly send out holiday cards together as friends, and now everyone is congratulating them for finally getting together. A 5+1 fic, for Christmas.

🎁 Santa Baby (one little thing I really need) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (3k, T)

When Louis himself had first heard those words - all the nurses at the A&E have a secret line to Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve-, not nearly long enough ago to be considered a child himself, but long enough that he hadn't really felt like an adult all the time, he’d laughed them off. Thought they were sweet, of course, but just a line, something said to appease the kids who ended up having to stay overnight. Something to explain the presents that parents brought to the hospital on Christmas morning, or that were waiting for them at home, if they were lucky not to have to stay any longer.

Something that would allow a little bit of Christmas spirit in the sometimes sterile rooms of the hospital.

But that was before he’d met him.

🎁 A Christmas at Home by @parmahamlarrie (3k, T)

After meeting his boyfriend in the emergency room, not having Louis home for Christmas Eve (and his birthday) was not a big surprise to Harry. What he didn't expect was just how hard that would be on his six year old son, Arlo.

Or, the one where Arlo wants nothing more than to celebrate Louis' birthday with him, and Harry hates having to be the parent who says no.

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They're also missing some soulmates.

For extra flavour, it's Christmas.

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🎁 The Busker by @chelsea-frew (7k, T)

A snowstorm has trapped artist Louis at home on his birthday--Christmas Eve--and on Christmas. Louis anticipates a lonely holiday. A mysterious stranger appears on Christmas morning, however, and Louis doesn't have to spend the day alone. But where did the man come from? Why does he seem familiar? It's a Christmas mystery.

🎁 Lonely Cards Club by @hellolovers13 (25k, T)

Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard.

It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day.

An Advent story about missed opportunities and second chances.

🎁 You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by @londonfoginacup (32k, T)

Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is.

Oh, and the guy who works in conservation at the other end of the building is the most beautiful man Harry's ever seen, even when wielding a hot iron as a weapon.

Happy Christmas, here's to many more.

🎁 Snow In Love by @lululawrence (33k, NR)

Harry and Louis are best friends and have been for basically as long as they can remember. For the first time since middle school, they are both single for the holidays leaving them with the brilliant idea to take each other as their dates to work events. To make things easier they will pretend like they’re dating. But then they learn something funny.

People thought they were already dating. Weird.

An advent fic featuring childhood friends, fake dating turned actual dating, really horrible secret keeping, and a winter weather surprise.

🎁 Heart Beat by @allwaswell16 (33k, E)

Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.

🎁 I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours (34k, T)

Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype.

It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words...and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.

#chose the present emoji this month because all of these lovely fics are the best presents to all of us #🥰🥰🥰#28th appreciation #monthly recs #fic rec #tracksintheam

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s-creations · 2 years

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The Nightmares - The Aftermath Series

The physical scars have been healed, but the mental ones are taking a bit longer. Especially when MK continually has nightmares, dreaming about if the plan hadn't worked.

He could deal with it! ...Maybe.

Fandom: LEGO Monkie Kid Rating: General Audience Relationships: Shadowpeach, MK&SunWukong, MK&Macaque Warnings/Additional Tags: Nightmares are not fun, Possessed kid has a name, Not sure if it’s the right one but it’s what we’re going with, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Shadowpeach

It all fell apart so quickly.

Pigsy, Tang, Sandy, and Redson had been captured when the first three weren’t able to stop the shadow spirits of the spider demons. Which led to Redson unable to free Mei from her crystal prison. Where they were, MK wasn’t sure. Only knew of this loss when the giant mech started wielding two large, red flamed swords.

The panic only grew when the ground MK was standing on shook. Turning to find Wukong, fully possessed with eyes glowing an eerie blue focused on the teen, standing imposingly. With Macaque held in hand by his throat, the black furred monkey clearly broken and unmoving. MK wincing when said monkey was tossed forward. Landing a few feet away from the shocked teen.

“What a pitiful attempt. I did warn you child, the Monkey King couldn’t stop me. So what made you think you could? A scared child carrying a title that shouldn’t belong to him. How sad.” Lady Bone Demon’s voice seemed to come from everywhere, echoing in MK’s head. But matter how hard the teen searched, he couldn’t see her. “Don’t fret, I’ll make your end quick… Not by my hands though.”

A wind rushed past the teen and, facing forward once more, MK’s felt fear encompassing him. Wukong was now mere inches away. Having covered the distance between them easily.

“Monkey Ki-” MK’s voice was cut off when a hand was wrapped around his throat. Hands reaching up to claw desperately at the arm that started to lift him up. Legs now reach out to kick Wukong away. Which amounted to nothing as the golden monkey was stoic as he stared the teen down. Who gasped and weezed as MK tried to get air into his lungs. “P-Please…”

“I told you child. These selfless actions will lead to nothing but pain.”

MK woke with a hard gasp. Sucking in air greedily as he sat up. Mind swimming with fear and grogginess as a hand reached up to touch his neck. There was nothing there, but he could still feel the pressure. The fingers and claws digging into his skin.

Blurry vision made MK realize that he had started crying. The teen reached up to desperately wipe the tears away, which amounted to nothing as more followed. Until he was burying his face into his pillow to quiet his sobs. He really didn’t need Pigsy or Tang rushing up here. They were already on pins and needles making sure MK was recovering well, physically and mentally. And MK really didn’t want that kind of attention on him. They had enough to worry about, their own fears and worries to work on.

MK could handle this on his own. At least, that’s what he’d liked to tell himself. But if the tear soaked pillow case and weight of exhaustion were any indications, MK wasn’t doing well.

Sniffing weakly and rubbing his face, MK decided it was time to get up. His movements were slow as he went through this normal morning routine. Head pounding, wanting to fall asleep but not wanting to have that nightmare again. Now uncomfortably dry eyes moved over to the window. Showing the numerous construction machines currently being used by the city to repair itself. It had only been a few days since Lady Bone Demon had been defeated and there were still plenty of open wounds. The crowded streets even more so with the large equipment that congested the road. All of it was an attempt to get back to normal as quickly as possible.

MK just wished he could reach a semblance of peace before attempting normal. Five minutes before 9:00 and the teen was heading downstairs. The noodle shop already had a large line outside the front door. Pigsy’s cooking was in full swing as he prepared for the day's orders. Tang was already sitting at the bar. A plate of dumplings resting before the human as he wrote in a new notebook.

“Ah, good morning MK,” Tang called out upon seeing the teen, “Sleep well?”

MK held himself back from wincing as the dream flashed in his mind. “Uh, yeah, I slept great. Ready to face the day!”

“Good to hear, because I already have a number of orders for you to deliver.” Pigsy said from the stove. Turning down the heat and wiping his brow as he faced the teen. “I know you’re planning on seeing Monkey King today. But we’re gonna be busy for a while.”

“It’s okay. He’s not expecting me until later today. More than enough time to help!” MK’s smile faltered upon noticing the hard look his boss was now giving him. “Um…what’s up?”

“Kid, have you been sleeping okay?”

“Uh- yeah! W-Why do you ask?”

“You’re looking a little pale. Those are some nasty bruises under your eyes too. Anything you want to talk about?”

“Nope! Unless it’s a discussion about all those orders that need to be delivered! I’ll get on those now, don’t wait up!” MK knew everything sounded forced, wincing at the volume his voice reached as he grabbed the bags before leaving. Trying not to notice the concerned looks that Pigsy and Tang shared.

The cart was soon packed up and MK was heading out. A deep breath leaving him as he relaxed.

He really didn’t need them to worry. He had a handle on this.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Move on.

The morning and early afternoon, it was business as usual. MK driving around the healing city easily, darting around the numerous machines and cars with no problems. Every time he arrived back at the shop, he had more bags to pick up. Barely having time for a breather before MK was out the door once more. He even ate his own lunch quickly before he had to leave. When the later afternoon/early evening started to roll around, the orders started to dwindle. Eventually, Pigsy announced that MK only had to go out one more time before finishing up.

MK smiled softly as he traveled through the city once more. Even though he still felt tired, the dream was far from his mind. Feeling at peace as he looked towards the horizon where the sun was barely starting to sink below it. Thinking that maybe tonight would be the night he slept. Either peacefully or completely passed out, he’d take it. Returning to the shop, MK started humming the song that had been stuck in his head for the past hour as he turned off the cart. Making his way up the front entrance slowly before bursting into the restaurant.

“Pigsy, I’m ba-” MK felt his throat close upon seeing a newcomer at the counter.

Bai Mingwei, school bag resting at her feet and eating a bowl of noodles, looked over when MK walked in. Eyes widening with glee upon seeing the teen. It wasn’t uncommon to see the girl in the shop as she’d been able to create a bond with the small family that had saved her from possession. Coming around to the shop after her school let out to connect further with her newest friends. MK had seen her plenty of times.

So there was no reason for him to suddenly tense up. Heart racing as he felt an unwanted chill settle in him. His mind screamed that he needed to run, get out! Lady Bone Demon was right there- why wasn’t he moving!

“Kid? Kid! Breathe kid, what’s going on with you?” Pigsy’s voice broke through the panicked fog, a hand landing on MK’s shoulder.

The teen stumbled away from the touch, running into the door frame. Wide eyes darting around caught the worried/panicked looks that were being returned to him. Unable to stay on the young girl’s face as it made MK’s stomach twisted with fear.

“MK,” Pigsy continued cautiously, “Kid, you need to talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I…I need to leave!” That was all MK said before he was out the door again. Using his staff to launch himself into the air and as far away from the store as he could. A part of him knew he was being foolish, knew Lady Bone Demon was gone, that Bai was a sweet girl who loved cats.

But at that moment, MK couldn’t tell the difference between the two and it made him feel sick.

_____________________

Wukong frowned, waiting at the waterfall entrance while resting on his cloud. Eyes glaring at the slowly sinking sun.

The kid was late, really late. He’d tried calling MK (with the cellphone that Mei insisted the Monkey King just had to get), but all calls were left unanswered. Wukong was tempted to go off to just search for the kid. Maybe MK got distracted by something? Or he was hanging with Mei and lost track of time? Or he’d been cornered in some dark alleyway and he’s-

Stop, she’s not here, she’s gone, MK’s fine.

Wukong’s already strained nerves almost shattered when the quiet was interrupted by a loud ringing. Realizing it was the cellphone going off. Answering it before he could correctly see who was calling him. “MK, kid, where are-”

“Not MK, but we do have an issue.” The panicked voice of Pigsy answered.

“Issue? What issue? Is MK-”

“Just, stop talking and listen. MK freaked out and ran out of the shop. We can’t find him anywhere in the city. He wouldn’t happen to be with you, would he?”

“No…no, he’s actually late for his training. I haven’t seen him at all today.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know of any locations he could get to that we couldn’t? Because we’re honestly out of ideas.”

“I have a few. I’ll go check them out and report back.”

“...Thanks. Make sure you talk to the kid too. Something’s been off with him today.”

“Right, will do, yeah.” Wukong ended the call and wracked his brain. Running through a list of places he’d shown the kid over the few months. Eventually narrowing down areas he knew MK could get to and took off. Worry only grew as each place was just as empty as the last. “Come on MK, where are you? What has you so freaked out?”

His phone goes off again. Once again answering it without looking at the caller id. “I haven’t found him yet Pigsy. Have you had any luck?”

“If I didn’t know that was the name of one of the kid’s friends, I’d say you’re rude.”

“Macaque?” MK frowned, “What are you calling me for? Wait, you have a cellphone?”

“Youngsters normally just say ‘phone’ instead of ‘cellphone’. Just a heads up so you don’t sound too old.”

Wukong pulled his phone away, MK’s name flashing up in the caller id. “You have MK’s phone? Is he with you?”

“Yeah, he is. It’s kind of why I’m calling. He just showed up at the, uh, well worn battle ground? Sure, we’ll go with that, and he’s not looking too great. Any idea what happened?”

“No. Pigsy-”

“Which one is that?”

“The, uh, the pig chef that MK works for.”

“Oh…yeah, no, should have known. Go ahead.”

“Anyway, Pigsy says MK was returning from delivering orders and just…freaked out.”

“Well, he’s still freaked out. Can you get over here? I’m not quite sure what to do about all of this.”

Wukong laughed softly. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon. Just keep the kid there.”

“Can do.”

The call ended and Wukong was off once more. Finding the area still damaged from the numerous battles that had been held there. The crater where MK had been trapped by the staff was still standing strong. Wukong shivering, mind flashing for a moment if he hadn’t been fast enough to block that punch-

Nope. We’re moving beyond. Time to focus on the future.

Against another rock wall rested MK and Macaque. The teen curled into a ball. Knees tucked in close, hiding his face away in the crossed arms. Macaque was leaning back against the rock wall, looking ahead, appearing not to have a care in the world. His tail draped easily over MK’s shoulder. The black furred monkey looked up upon hearing Wukong touch down.

“About time,” Macaque leaned over to nudge MK’s arm, “Hey kid, look who joined us! It’s your egotistical mentor.”

Wukong pointedly ignored the comment and the smirk, instead focusing on his successor. Bending down to get closer to MK. “Hey bud, you’ve been missing for a few hours, you’re worrying a lot of people. You were late for training and I got a call from a kind of frantic Pigsy.”

The Monkey King frowned at Macaque’s clear and over the top throat clearing. The Shadow Warrior shaking his head with a pointed glare. Wukong, in turn, frowned, raising his brow with a shrug. A clear but silent question of ‘What’s wrong?’. To which Macaque rolls his eyes and jerks his head to the side. An indication to have a conversation away from the distressed teen.

Wukong gave a gentle squeeze to MK’s shoulder, who didn’t look up, before following Macaque’s lead. “What.”

“You’re an actual idiot.”

“Okay, great, thanks. What does that have to do with anything?”

“The kid’s already stressed enough as is and you just come flying down, asking those kinds of questions? He doesn’t need a cross examination right now. He needs to know someone’s here to offer comfort and an ear when he’s ready to talk.”

“That’s an interesting take, coming from you.”

Macaque suddenly looked uneasy, crossing his arms. “The kid talked a lot during breaks when training.”

“When training- Oh, right, that,” Wukong felt something burn in his stomach, “If you’re so good at something like this, why am I here?”

“Are you honestly going to be bitter about that? I figure enough has popped up to let that remain in the past. As well as we have a distressed teen to worry about in the back.”

Arms crossed, the Monkey King gave a small huff but nodded. “Alright, then you explain to me what I need to do. If you’re such an expert.”

“Just go sit with the kid.” Was the simple reply.

Wukong raised his hands in defeat and walked back over. Aware that Macaque’s eyes were following him. The Monkey King took the place where the other monkey had once sat. His own tail reached up to wrap around MK’s shoulders. “Hey kid, I’m back. Hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

No reply.

Letting out a small sigh, he leaned over, replacing his tail with his arm. Pulling the kid closer. Resting his chin on MK’s shoulder. “I can’t understand what’s wrong if you don’t talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I saw Bai in the store.” MK’s voice was muted slightly as he was still hiding his face.

“Oh…okay,” Wukong frowned. Looking over to Macaque, who quietly waved him on. “Well, she’s a sweet kid. Did something happen to-”

“I thought she was the Lady Bone Demon again.”

“Oh…” Swallowing weakly, Wukong attempted to pull MK as close as possible. Trying to put as much comfort in the one-armed hug as he could. “Look, I know the entire thing was intense, and that’s an understatement. But I know she’s gone, you now she’s gone. The Lady Creep can’t hurt anyone any more. I promise.”

Wukong allowed silence to fall between them for a few minutes before continuing. “Why did you think Lady Bone Demon was back?”

“...I’ve been having dreams…”

“Do you want to tell me about them?”

MK let out a shaky breath before continuing. “It’s when we were all on the mech, the one she made… Everyone was captured, she had Mei’s powers… You hurt Macaque…”

Wukong quickly looked up to the Shadow Warrior. Who pointedly looked away upon hearing that from MK, reaching up to rub his right eye. “Okay, what else happened kid?”

“She said she knew I wouldn’t be able to stop her. Said that I didn’t earn the title and…” MK shivered weakly, tightening the grip on his arms. Wukong wrapped both of his arms around the trembling teen. Curling around the teen in what the golden monkey was hoping was a comforting way. “You attacked me…”

Wukong had a feeling this part was coming, but that didn’t hurt any less hearing MK choke it out. “Kid…”

“You were possessed and the staff wasn’t nearby and…”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Wukong whispered softly, “Never again. It was just a dream, you’re okay kid. It’s going to be okay.”

The Monkey King shifted to kneel in front of the teen once more. Reaching out to grip the teen’s hands gently. MK still not looking up. “Look at me kid, let me show you that everything’s okay.”

“I-I can’t, I don’t want to see…”

Wukong faltered slightly at that, but knew that should have been expecting that as well. Knew that MK was worried he was going to see the possessed Monkey King again. Even he was worried about waking up one day to have an unwelcoming chill travel down his spine. What was he supposed to say to comfort the teen when Wukong was fearful too.

He jumped when an arm was wrapped around him. Not fighting back when a black furred cheek easily pressed against his. Ears twitching hearing a familiar comforting rumble sound from Macaque’s chest. One that Wukong responded to equally, eyes closing in contentment. Feeling his shoulders drop slowly as he relaxed.

“Are you two…purring?” MK’s voice broke through the quiet moment.

The golden monkey peered back over to the teen, who was peeking up cautiously. Ignoring the wince when he and MK’s eyes connected. “Uh, yeah?”

“...Monkeys don’t purr?”

“They also normally don’t talk, or fight, or have mystical powers. So just chalk this up to another interesting quirk.” Macaque responded this time with a smirk.

Wukong laughed softly seeing the confused look that flashed over MK’s face. He reached out to cup the teen’s cheek to raise MK’s head up further. The teen instantly reaches out to grip onto the golden monkey’s arm, pressing into the comforting hand as a small sob escapes him. Both monkey’s instantly reached out to pull the teen close. MK immediately surrounded by warmth and comfort, the quiet rumbling returning as the teen’s walls finally crumbled.

“You’re okay kid,” Wukong said softly, nuzzling against the teen’s shoulder, “Just let it out. It’s gonna be okay, it’ll take time but I promise. And I’ll be right there the entire time.”

MK only whimpered as a response, a hand reaching up to grip onto both Wukong and Macaque. The golden monkey smiled, looking up to give a small thanks to the other monkey. Only to pause to find that Macaque was already looking back, a warm smile on his face. Causing something warm and comforting to wiggling gleefully in his stomach. But he had to push that aside when MK pulled away, the teen wiping his eyes.

“Sorry…” The teen said quietly.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, kid. It’s been a rough couple of…months. You’ve just reached a boiling over point.” Wukong said calmly.

“Bai’s never going to want to be in the same room with me now. And we were getting along so well.”

“The kid’s forgiving,” Macaque spoke up, “She’s not one to hold grudges and she understands where this is coming from. Bai’s not going to hold this over you. She’ll more than likely laugh this off than anything.”

The Shadow Monkey looked up when silence followed his statement. A deep flush formed, realizing Wukong was smirking. “What?”

“You seem rather close to Bai,” Wukong leaned closer as his smirk grew, “Have you been hanging out with her without us knowing?”

“I- What? No. Pfft, what are you on about? You’re so weird right now.”

“Uh huh, sure. And that cute little blush is just there for show?” Wukong laughed when Macaque quickly raised his scarf to cover his ears and cheeks. “Aww, are you embarrassed to have feelings-”

The golden monkey let out a cry of surprise when he was suddenly pinned to the ground. Blinking away the confusion to find Macaque smirking down at him. The mentioned blush slowly fading away. Annoyance taking over surprise, Wukong grabbed Macaque’s wrists to hold him in place while putting his feet on the Shadow Warrior’s chest. There was a brief moment of confusion before Macaque let out his own noise of surprise as he was pushed back. Quickly landing on his feet and just as fast to block the next ‘attack’.

The trading of friendly blows lasted for a few minutes before player three entered the battle. Just as Macaque was about to throw another punch, MK latched onto the arm and pulled him back. Wukong, who had been previously knelt down to block the on coming blow, only laughed as the Shadow Warrior now had to deal with a hyperactive teen. Falling quiet quickly when the noise called attention quickly back to him. Barely able to turn when he was pounced upon and easily pinned down to the ground.

A small huff left the fallen Monkey King, the short retort falling away hearing MK let out a laugh. The teen beamed as he leaned against Wukong, finally looking relaxed. The golden monkey took the relaxed teen and pulled MK down. Ignoring the indigent cry of ‘Hey!’ as he rolled them both over until Wukong was sitting up. MK lays across the monkey’s chest, smiling softly as he relaxes again.

Wukong looked up to see where Macaque went and was met with a gentle kiss. Face flushed as the black furred monkey pulled away. Unable to give a reply or comment before Macaque disappeared into the shadows with a wink.

Muttering out a ‘Cheeky monkey.’ before turning back to MK. Slightly shocked to find the teen asleep, snoring softly with his cheek pressed against Wukong’s chest. He let out a small chuckle before shifting MK to sit a bit more comfortable. Head now resting on the golden monkey’s shoulder.

“Sleep well kid, I got you… You’ll be okay.”

“You were such the perfect champion.”

Wukong’s eyes snapped open. Breathing became ragged as the unwelcoming familiar feeling of cold crawled over him. His body not responding as he tried to get away from the approaching blue fog. “Get…out…of me!”

“You had already done the majority of the ground work for me. Reforging the fire. Your successor handing his powers over to me so willingly. Then you deliver yourself right to me. How foolish you were.”

“You’re not here,” Wukong growled out, “We defeated you. I broke free-”

“Yet here I am.”

“No, you’re not. I don’t know what kind of trick this is but I’m not going to fall for it.”

“Fall for it? What do you mean? You’ve been mine for a while now. Just look at the damage you were able to do.”

The fear only grew when the surrounding darkness cleared to show the destroyed city. Not a single thing was left untouched in the wake of whatever Wukong had been forced to do. Feeling ill when he recognizes familiar forms lying on the ground. Bloody, broken, and unmoving.

“They’d fought so hard, but were clearly no match against your power.” Her voice hissed in his ear.

“No…”

“They, however, were not your largest triumph over this matter.”

Two large forms were dropped next to him. Wukong responded in turn by moving away from where they landed. Mind reeling when he realized who had ‘landed’ beside him. MK and Macaque, collapsed in a heap of broken and bleeding bodies tangled together. Glassy eyes staring at nothing.

“No!”

“They put up such a good fight. I honestly couldn’t tell you which one pleaded for you more. But they both sounded so desperate. Too bad for you, and them, you were a bit too preoccupied. You truly are the perfect champion.”

Wukong felt the fog slowly creeping back into his mind, eyes still on the broken bodies of those he cared about.

“NO!” Wukong sat up, clawing at the few blankets that covered him to tear them off. Sitting at the edge of the nest as he clutched at his head. Breathing hard and shallow as he attempts to call himself down. He flinched when something touched his back. Turning quickly to find an exhausted Macaque there.

Oh, right, he’d just popped up that evening and hadn’t left. No matter how much Wukong attempted to show he didn’t want the Shadow Warrior there. Now, however, the golden monkey was thankful that Macaque had ignored him. Wukong’s shoulders slumping in relief knowing the other was still actually alive.

“Peaches? …What’s going on? You just screamed, scared me half to death honestly…” Macaque didn’t miss the wince that fell over the golden monkey.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Wukong eventually choked out.

Macaque didn’t respond right away. Instead reaching out to cup either of Wukong’s cheeks. The golden monkey shivered when thumbs gently rubbed under his eyes. “You’re crying…”

“I am?” was the weak reply.

“What’s wrong, Peaches?”

“I…had a nightmare.” Wukong breathed out weakly, sinking into the touches.

“About what?”

Wukong shook his head at that, shutting his eyes. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“Okay, that’s fine. We’ll…We’ll talk about it later. What do you want?”

“...I want my kid.” Wukong felt a little foolish once he said it out loud. It was clearly just a dream. Macaque was here and alive, no doubt the kid was fine as well. But that thought didn’t chase away the worry gnawing at the back of his mind.

If this was a strange request, Macaque didn’t argue. Merely gave a nod before saying, “Okay, hang tight.”

Before he could comment further, Wukong watched as the other monkey disappeared into the shadows. The silence became unsettling as he waited. Wukong pulled his knees to his chest, picked at the closest blankets to try and straighten everything out. Suddenly worried that his nest was looking a little bit of a mess. He didn’t have time to fixate on that when the shadows moved once more. Two forms appear from it.

Wukong held back a thrilled chirp upon seeing MK. The kid was still clearly half asleep as he leaned against Macaque, who merely smiled. “We’re here kid.”

“Mmm? Really?” Letting out a yawn, MK rubbed his eyes before looking around. “Oh, we are… Hi Monkey King, was told something was wrong?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Wukong said, itching over slowly. “I just had a bad dream.”

“Like me?”

“...Yeah, like you. But we can worry about that later. How about we get some sleep? You look like you’re halfway there.”

MK hummed softly before looking around again. “...This a bed?”

“Something like that,” Macaque said while gently pushing MK off him and towards Wukong, “It’s comfortable, trust me. You’ll sleep just fine.”

Wukong happily collected the sleepy teen in his arms. Any remaining fear from the dream melted away as MK easily wrapped his arms around the golden monkey. Said being didn’t fight back when another pair of arms pulled him to lie back down. Macaque pulled the number of blankets back over the three of them before settling down himself.

Looking over, Macaque laughed softly, finding Wukong gently brushing MK’s hair with his fingers. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah…thanks for getting MK.”

“Anything for you Peaches.” Macaque inches closer to gently press his forehead against Wukong. Both monkey’s felt comfort and followed MK into blissful sleep.

#lmk mk #lmk sun wukong #lmk macaque #lego monkie kid #s-creations #fanfiction #also on ao3 #shadowpeach

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thechaoticenigmadiary · 2 years

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🔒 03/24/23

I think I found my opening for this. I’ve been analyzing my texting style for my moods and I figured out how I text when I’m happy vs. when I’m not. I’ve watched videos we’ve taken and looked at the way my face scrunches up when I’m happy. I’ve been practicing blushing in the mirror. But I got a tea today. It did give me more energy. That’s not a lie. But I wonder if I can say it’s helped fix my borderline issues. Well, maybe fix isn’t the right word, I’m never going to get better. I’m always going to be sick. I’m always going to have ups and downs and inside out moments. But I think that’s my opening. So the first thing I need is to get as much independence as possible. And that starts with mobility. I don’t love the thought of a wheelchair but it gets me out and about and then I don’t have to be carried around. I know Ari would rather not touch me. Shade.. I wish I knew. He’s always been so much harder to read despite Ari’s stoic features.

But Peru was beautiful. Gods it was. It was bright and colorful and smelled wonderful. It was so lively and I did have fun buying things for the kids. I got some seeds for Raph, but I really just want Ari to give it to him alone but I know he won’t do it. He won’t feel comfortable until I convince them I’m ‘fine.’

I don’t want him to leave me and I know he’s close. I know he is. And our anniversary isn’t that far away.. yet I’ve never not wanted to celebrate something so bad. The closer it gets the more I just want to rip out my insides.

My new coping method is working though. If I can’t tape blades in hiding places.. They can’t rip out my teeth and sometimes I use the lighter by the candles I practice on on my wrists the rare moments I’m alone. That one I can’t do much though Shade will smell it. But the pain hurts.. and I can heal myself and if I’m careful I don’t break skin and Shade won’t smell blood. I wish it could be harder but unless I think of something else.

I’m relieved the twins are okay. I’ve been in the dream scape twice to make sure and they are. But tonight I’ll be listening to Marcel. I love listening to stories of him and the Goddess.. And he doesn’t judge me for my selfishness when I cry.

I remember when I asked Ari how he’d feel if anyone touched me and he said he’d get upset.. and I still just think about how Luca is the exception and I don’t now why.. And it just hurt. I know I should have felt happy but.. It hurt. I wonder though if he wouldn’t care if anyone touched me. But I’m not trying to purposely throw away my marriage, I’m not testing this. Besides I don’t want to hurt Shade.

And I like Luca. I do. But it’s not as if I can be with him.

I’m the glue after all.. I can’t waiver. I have to be the one that’s loyal even if they both wander off. Ari already has. I wonder when Shade will wander. He won’t while I’m fragile. I know that. He wont’ let himself be happy. He’d be happier I think if he didn’t have to deal with me all the time. I almost wish he would. Just rip the bandaid off now while it’s raw with Ari so I can heal from them both all at once.

I still wouldn’t be surprised if Edward does. They get along well. And then him and Ari and Raphael and Edward could double date and they could be happy.

And I’ll.. Luca doesn’t deserve this mess.

Ari would feel okay with someone who doesn’t look at me or even want to touch me as someone ‘safe’ to do so.

Why can Ari handle it? Stomach it? The thought of someone else running their hands along me. Kissing me to the point I’m breathless. Their eyes meeting mine and the world fades away.

They both don’t understand.. this hell.. I’m not enough and too much all at once. Shade.. I wonder how he’d feel if someone touched me. Could he stomach it? Would he understand this hell? Ari doesn’t care. Ari’s okay with it. Ari doesn’t care..

“I don’t mind if it’s him.” How much longer until you just don’t mind? I can’t breathe. I have panic attacks every day.

I’m scared to call Shade Daddy. I haven’t in days. Has he noticed? I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t. I never want to hurt anyone. But I just don’t feel safe. I’m avoiding the Pink Room. I wonder if we’ll ever need The Red Room again if my husband won’t touch me.

I even have this dress hidden away for when I’ve lost the baby weight but now I’m wondering if I should return it. I’m not sure I’ll need it. He won’t look at me. He doesn’t touch me. I want to claw off my skin until I’m someone he’ll love again.

I wish things were just good and I could just focus on Peru. But all I want to do is sleep in my Hawaii home.

But Vincent turns one tomorrow. I can’t believe it. My children are getting so big.

Honestly.. I’m afraid of what I’d do without my kids. I’m afraid Ari would already be gone without them.

But I found an opening.. It’ll get fixed.

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ofviolentdeath · 2 years

Text

Character(s)::Jax and Ari Word Count::755

The summer heat was sweltering, making the air feel thick as she padded barefoot through the woods, sticks and stones battering skin, but she barely noticed. She should have been in bed, curled up with her husband and sound asleep, but he was away on business and she never slept well without him. It wasn't just a wolf thing, no, Ari just didn't do well on her own.

The clearing wasn't much further, the trees thinning gradually, allowing more silver moonlight to filter through their thick leaves. She could already hear the soft sound of water lapping against the shore of the small pond that the pack had dug out decades ago.

Jax had been up at the pond for the last few hours, the noise in his head too loud. It had been like this off and on in the years he had been home, every part of him wanting to run again, but he always found a reason not to. At first it had been Ari, then Sunny and the kids, then Shiloh had shown up. There were people that counted on him, that loved and wanted him around, but being there was still too much most days. The ghosts of his childhood clawing at him, reminding him of why he had left in the first place.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't realize he wasn't alone until Ari dropped down beside him and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"You look like you're ready to run away again," she murmured, unable to hide the way the thought alone made her heart ache. She had watched him leave once before and it had nearly destroyed her. She didn't think she could go through it all over again.

"I'm not gonna, don't you worry," he sighed, resting his head against hers. "Just...bein' back here brings up a lot o' shit I tried real hard to bury."

He had done his best to hide it, but he had never been great at lying to his baby sister. Even now, he knew she was the one person in the pack that would understand what he was going through. After all, she had lived through their father's abuse the same as him.

"It's easier to carry if you talk about it. Bottling it all up...it doesn't go away, Jax." It had taken her years to learn that, to trust in Adam enough to tell him everything. She had been terrified that he would leave her or think maybe she had deserved it, but he had gently guided her through it and reminded her that she had been a child and at no fault for what had been done to her. If she could do the same for her brother, she would gladly take the weight. Or if she could coax him into opening up to Sunny, that could be just as helpful.

"I know ya got a point, Ari, I do, but I just ain't ready to go diggin' into it that deep yet. I was still a kid when that old bastard ran me off. I had no idea how to survive out in the world away from here and I had to do a lot of thing I ain't proud to admit." Not to mention the close calls with hunters and the scars he still carried from silver blades and bullets from those encounters. "Dunno if I'll ever really be ready to get into it."

She nodded, knowing it wasn't easy and not knowing the extent of what he had gone through. Quietly, she stood and rested a hand on his shoulder, giving him a small squeeze. "When you do feel ready, my door is always open," she promised before moving from him, intent on giving him his space. She didn't get more than a step away when she felt his hand on her wrist, gentle and seeking.

"Stay for a bit? I don't...I don't wanna talk but I don't wanna be alone much either."

With a soft smile, Ari dropped back down beside him and leaned against him, willing to stay as long as he needed.

"I know it's hard, but I'm still glad you came home."

He smiled a bit at that before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He'd never fully feel at ease here, they both probably knew it, but knowing he had healed some of the damage he had dealt to his baby sister helped more than she would ever know.

#drabble #ari:drabble #jax:drabble #queue me something soft

0 notes

moemoemammon · 3 years

Text

MC is Sick?!

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

A little late to notice that you’re sick. He’s been so busy lately that he can’t watch you as carefully as he’d like to, so he apologizes for not catching on sooner.

But now that it’s been brought to his attention, Lucifer is all over it. You’re excused from your classes and sent to your room for bedrest while he tends to everything else. He’s rarely the one to bring you your medicine or meals, to his dismay, but his busy schedule just won’t allow it.

If he were able he’d let you stay in his room until you felt better. But for the time being, he’ll have to squeeze in little visits to your room, where he’ll pop in and sit on the edge of your bed, pressing his hand against your forehead and letting it linger on your cheek.

He’ll often come to your room with a record for you to listen to, and he loves talking about the history of the music and the life of the composure. His boring talks put you right to sleep.

“This piece is one of my favorites. The composer went into an illness induced madness when he created the sheet music, and wouldn't eat or sleep for two weeks until it’d been completed. Why, I often listen to it when- Ah, have you fallen asleep?"

Mammon

The first to notice the change in your health. You don’t look so good.. Are you okay? MC?!

Good luck trying to get any rest, because your first man is gonna be popping in and out of your room every five minutes. He’s constantly checking in on you, making sure you’re not too hot or too cold, that you’ve got something to drink, that you ate the soup he left-

Actually, Mammon’s not that bad of a caretaker! He’s a little too attentive, but he clearly knows what he’s doing. Also insists on being the only one that takes care of you until you’re better.

Polices everything you do. You wanna get out of bed? Nope, wait for Mammon. You’re bored? He’ll bring you something to do. Know what, he’s just gonna move into your room for the time being-

“Who told ya to go and get sick? Makin' me worry like this... I'm gonna make sure ya get better in no time, so you'd better be grateful, ya hear? I don't do this for just anybody..."

Levi

No way... You’re sick?! But you guys had plans to watch Magical Ruri Hana together...

Yeah, he’s not the best at caretaking despite watching Cells at Work, but he does know the basics! It kills him to leave his room so frequently, so.. why don’t you just stay in his room? He’ll take care of you there, and the healing waves of Ruri-chan will wash over you and get rid of your illness!

He definitely can’t be your primary caregiver, unless you want to be sick forever. Anime doesn't really imitate real life. Who would've thought?

But he’s as attentive as he can be, at least! He brings you new DVDs to watch, manga to read, and delicious stacks to try whenever he can! Even if this is all he can do, he wants to make sure you know he’s thinking about you. May or may not also be spam texting you and keeping you awake-

“I brought the audio drama for you to listen to! It's from the TSL live series, where they act out the scenes! You won't have to worry about reading or watching anything, so you can listen to it to sleep. Oh, but I want to hear your opinion on everything! And then you- huh? When will you be able to sleep? Uh..."

Satan

The most knowledgeable when it comes to taking care of human illnesses, but he still fumbles a little. Insists on making an accurate diagnosis of your symptoms, and that takes way longer than the actual treatement,

But once he’s deduced what’s going on, Satan goes all in. You might feel like a guinea pig because of all the weird methods he’s trying on you (may or may not have read a medieval medicine book first), so uhhhhh be patient with him. Now hold still while he puts this onion in your sock-

Not as attentive as the others, but very thorough when he tends to you. And despite all the unorthodox healing methods, you actually recover quickly, by some miracle.

In the quieter moments when all you need is rest, Satan will sit by and quietly read to you until you lull off to sleep, brushing the hair from your face before he leaves.

“Hm... I was sure St. John's Wart would do the trick, but your fever hasn't broken at all? Maybe I ought to try minced garlic and honey next? Or maybe..- Eh? Just normal medicine is fine?"

Asmo

SICK?! No no, this won’t do at all! Asmo doesn’t want to see his darling MC looking so pale and unsightly! It’s off to bed with you now. No, not his bed he loves you but you’ve gotta understand-

Gentle affection is one of Asmo’s selling points, but that doesn’t mean the king of aftercare knows how to treat illnesses. He does however make you extremely comfortable. I’m talking extra fluffy pillows, cold and hot packs where you need them most, careful sponge baths (if you’ll let him), and everything else he can offer to make sure you’re okay.

May or may not show up in a hazmat suit, but don’t worry. The mask is clear so you get a view of his beautiful face! And when he isn’t around to take care of you, he sends pictures of himself to speed up the healing process.

Most likely to ask for help in your care. He tends to forget that you need more than affection and selfies to help you recover-

“Make sure you get better quickly, okay? I'll keep gracing your with my gorgeous face, and that ought to heal you in no time! Oh, maybe an herbal bath will help, too? I'll join you~!"

Beel

Extremely worried the moment you sneeze twice in a row. And when that escalates into a full blown cold, he immediately takes you to your room and cocoons you in every spare blanket he can find.

His care is sloppy, but full of affection. Your bed is a fluffy mess of soft blankets and pillows, and he lingers in your room nearly all day. And naturally, Beel knows you need to eat in order to heal.

You’re never without any food. This man will bring you an entire rotisserie chicken and a quart of orange juice for breakfast do not underestimate him. And if you can’t stomach anything, he’s try for things that’re easier to eat. like soups and broths. Also insists on feeding you himself.

Might also need some help in caring for you. He has good intentions and he’s being as careful with you as can be, but it can’t help to have another set of hands on the job. He wants to make sure you get the best care he can offer.

“Mm... you're not eating a lot today. Hm? You're full? But you only had a shadow hog roast, three sandwiches, and a gallon of juice. Are you sure that's enough? ...Well, maybe you're right. I'll eat what you can't finish, then. Hm? You're worried I'll get sick? It's fine. A human cold wont affect me."

Belphie

He knew something was up when you didn’t get out of bed that morning. Sleeping until 2pm is HIS thing, got it? Just kidding-

Tries not to show it, but this man is so worried that he can’t even sleep. BELPHEGOR, the Avatar of Sloth, is suffering from insomnia.

He isn’t really the best at taking care of other people, but he knows that plenty of rest can only do you good. Belphie climbs into your bed and resigns himself to staying there until you heal. Somehow, having him around makes your sleep even deeper, so you always wake up feeling a little more rested than before.

Not so great at remembering when to bring you medicine and stuff, so the help of the others is a given. But despite that, you find yourself comfortable in every position you shift into. Belphie knows a thing or two about resting peacefully, so he’s got an eye for helping you with that.

“Are you feeling a little better today? ...Good. You were tossing and turning in your sleep, so I got you that ice pack. It look like your fever finally broke, so that means I can rest easy now.. goodnight......"

#I wrote this because I am ill and I wanna indulge #obey me shall we date #obey me!#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#shall we date? obey me!#shall we date obey me #obey me writing #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

1K notes · View notes

wkemeup · 3 years

Text

Graveyard

summary: As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too. pairing: bucky x healer!reader word count: 10k warnings: canon level violence

As a child, you were told it was a gift; placed upon a pedestal above the quaint suffering of a rural town and removed of your innocence for the good of strangers. You’d been made to be revered – honored – for the touch that could mend the broken.

It began with a cut upon your father’s finger – a slip of a kitchen knife that had left a small bead of blood in its wake. Curious eyes glanced up at your father as he hissed at the sting of it and you’d reach forward to place your infant hand upon the cut, a grip so mall it barely wrapped around his finger. He stilled as a soft glow began to emit from your palm. When you removed your hand and began to cry, your father was stunned to find his skin perfectly intact – no trace of a scar in its place.

They told you it was a gift, celebrated you as if you were a blessing from Heaven itself. But they were cruel in their rejoice, selfish in their praise. They had not considered your gift was not a gift at all – but a sacrifice.

Like energy, pain could not be destroyed— but it could be absorbed. It could be transferred. Your father’s cut had not simply disappeared, but instead manifested on the finger of an infant for a few short moments before it faded into your skin; laid to rest amongst a sea of foreign injuries that did not belong to you.

“Look sharp, kid! We’ve got incoming,” Banner’s voice startled you from your thoughts as he stood at the doorway to your lab. Arms folded over his chest, an amused smirk upon his face, he must have caught sight of the quinjet landing in the hanger from the windows overlooking the loading dock.

You nodded, setting down the drill beside the stun absorption pad you were engineering for Stark’s newest suit. You didn't have to wonder long who was on the latest mission and currently on their way to your office, because a familiar bickering began to carry down the hall and into the lab, forcing a smile onto your face.

For a mechanical engineer, you saw more of the Avengers post-mission than the med wing did these days. You’d been hired for your multiple PhDs and borderline genius IQ, but once you’d rushed across the room to spare Stark from a rather unpleasant laceration on his palm from an experiment gone haywire, your lab had quickly become a rotating door of injured Avengers.

Sure enough, Barnes and Wilson stumbled their way into the lab, Sam draped over Bucky’s shoulder, barely able to put any pressure on his left leg. While Sam tossed you his charismatic grin and those big, round, puppy dog eyes, Bucky favored to dispose of his partner on the lab table with an aggravated grunt.

“What do we have today?” you smirked, rolling up the sleeves of your coat as Bruce shook his head in amusement.

“Broken ankle, I think,” Sam replied, gesturing to the mess of bandages and improvised splint.

You nodded as you stepped closer, examining the injury before you brushed a hand over the swollen joint. Sam whined at the contact, the pain clearly breaking through the lighthearted grin upon his face though he tried to suppress it. His hand curled into a fist.

“You know I’m not a medical doctor, but I’d have to agree,” you nodded, planting your hands on your hips.

“You could just get the x-rays and go through PT like a normal person,” Bucky grumbled off in his corner of the room, narrowing his eyes in warning upon his partner. “She’s not here as your personal healer, Wilson.”

Bucky was always hesitant of your powers. He never said why, but you wondered most days if he was still seeking penance for the evils he’d committed under Hydra, if maybe he felt as though giving you his pain absolved him in a way he was not worthy of.

Or perhaps it was a degradation of his pride. Men often found strength in their ability to withstand pain. Though, it seemed to bother him when the others would come to you for injuries like this, too, almost as if he worried they were taking advantage of you.

He was a good man; certainly, more concerned with your consent in healing his friends than your parents and the town who spent your childhood exploiting you ever were.

“I don’t mind, Bucky,” you told him, smiling encouragingly back at him until he started to relax his shoulders and uncrossed his arms, softening under your gaze. “If it means less time on the bench and more time out there saving lives and having your back, I don’t mind at all.”

“Yeah, Barnes, who’s going to watch your back if I’m held up in a cast?” Sam teased, chuckling under his breath until Bucky stepped forward and not so subtly bumped his hip to the side of the lab table. The sudden disruption of the table moved his ankle just enough to instantly wipe the grin from Sam’s face.

“Try to relax for me, Sam,” you eased, stepping forward as you started to remove your gloves. You leaned over the edge of the table, slowly removing the splint and the bandage surrounding the swollen muscle. You handed it off to Bucky as you examined the dark purple and blue discoloration on his ankle.

He hissed as you laid your palms on his leg, clenching down on his jaw.

You closed your eyes, concentrating as you felt for the break beneath the surface. A crack splintered through the bone, the surrounding tissue swollen and aching.

A gentle glow began to emit from your palms, a warmth that spread from your hands and directly onto Sam’s skin, through the muscle, and deep into the bone. You could feel the subtle fragments as they began to mend, the swell in his joint as it shrank, the slight movements as he regained feeling.

Exhaling a tense breath, you shifted your stance onto your right leg as the pressure started to build in your ankle. It wouldn’t last long, just a few minutes in comparison to the weeks of treatment and months of physical therapy Sam would have endured – an easy trade for a man who spend his days so selflessly on the line in the service of strangers.

You could sense Bucky watching you and you were careful not to let the pain show on your face. There was a privilege in healing the Avengers like this. It gave your life meaning beyond the injuries of your hometown; of careless teenagers falling off skateboards or angry men in bars who took an argument a drink too far. You’d happily take on a few moments of pain in service of heroes.

Not that you’d let them know.

“You should be good now.” You held your hands up, the soft glow fading away from your palms as you tucked your hands into your pockets. Careful of the momentary break in your ankle, you took a cautious step away from the table to lean on the chair at your desk. No one noticed the wince in your expression as you put the slightest pressure on the fresh injury.

“I will never get tired of that.” Sam looked down at the foot in awe, rolling at the ankle and amazed to find the swelling and bruising disappeared completely. He jumped down from the table, bounding on his feet just to test out the freedom in his mobility.

“Alright, Wilson. Enough,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re going to hurt yourself again and Y/n’s not going to be so generous next time.”

Sam smirked, pausing for a moment as he contemplated. “Nah, my girl will always take care of me. Won’t ya, sugar?”

It didn’t slip your notice when Bucky tensed up at the pet name. You started to laugh, the teasing smile dropping from his face as his hands curled into fists. Sam really knew how to press his buttons and it seemed, surprisingly enough, you were one of them.

“Bucky’s got a point, you know. Fancy healing powers are reserved for field injuries these days.” You were only teasing, both of them knowing you’d have healed a papercut if they’d ask. Still, Bucky smirked, taunting Sam over your shoulder as if he’d won.

You eased yourself off the chair as you started to regain feeling in your ankle, giving more pressure to the heel to find it barely noticeable. You rubbed at the joint with your right shoe to find the swelling had disappeared as well.

A few moments to spare him weeks of pain. Easy trade.

“What about you, Sergeant?”

Bucky paused, raising an eyebrow at you.

You took a step forward, glancing over him in search of injuries. Nothing more than a few cuts that his own advanced healing would take care of overnight. Still, there was one injury you’d been trying to convince him to allow you to heal in the year since you’ve known him.

“You going to let me work on your shoulder yet or are you still being a masochist?”

Sam snickered under his breath as he crossed the room to watch what Banner was doing over his shoulder. Bucky gave you that knowing smile of his, the one that pushed up into his eyes and left behind beautiful creases and lines on his face; an exhale of a laugh on his breath.

“It’s not necessary, doll. I’m fine.”

A frown tugged at your lips. “You always say that, and yet...”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Bucky shrugged. He was watching you with those sweet eyes of his, creating a warmth that spread in your chest entirely independent of the powers in your hands.

“You shouldn’t have to handle it in the first place,” you pressed, a pain in your voice as he placed a hand on your shoulder, letting it slide down your arm. It was an intimate gesture, more contact that he had with most people, and he offered it willingly. You tried not to let the shivers show in your spine as he pulled away.

It looked as though he wanted to say more, but Steve suddenly appeared in the doorway, causing Bucky to take an abrupt step away from you. You hadn’t realized how close you’d been standing to one another.

“Debrief in five,” Steve ordered, eyeing Sam and Bucky, though paused as he saw you, offering a short smile in acknowledgement before disappearing down the hall.

“I’m not letting this go, just so you’re aware,” you teased, pointing at Bucky’s shoulder as he started to wave Sam towards the door. He smiled, keeping his back to you until Sam was clear of the room and he leaned into the open frame, one quick glance back at you.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less, doll.”

***

The next month saw another broken leg, a fractured clavicle, two minor lacerations, a sprained wrist, and a number of superficial cuts – all from various members of the team. Though there was always the one exception who wouldn’t accept your offer no matter how badly he was favoring his right arm.

The clavicle was certainly a challenge to get through, but the world needed Natasha Romanoff in the field, not strung up on a gurney and a brace for a handful of months. It took longer than some of the other injuries to heal, but you’d managed, even if you had to excuse yourself to the restroom as soon as you’d finished, even if you had to shove a towel into your mouth to keep from screaming as it mended itself together under your skin.

The truth was you liked being useful. You liked the stunned smiles on their faces and the appreciation in their eyes. You liked seeing them run a hand over perfectly smooth skin where an open wound had just been. It gave you a purpose.

And sure – your work on SHIELD tech was important and perhaps not all of the injuries in your hometown had been a waste of your abilities, but there was something exceptionally gratifying in mending someone who was untouchable, in healing the people who saved the world.

You’d take a dozen broken clavicles for them.

It was late after your evening shift and you’d taken to running a few laps on the indoor track around the gym. Blow off some steam, use the state-of-the-art equipment Stark spent thousands of dollars on, give your mind something to think about beside how you were going to rewire Sam’s wings to expand in a more fluid motion.

You’d just started to break into a sweat when you noticed Bucky setting up at the row of punching bags. The gym was otherwise empty as the sky favored the stars over the sun, and you started to smile as you watched Bucky shrug off his jacket and drop the bag at his feet. He rolled back his shoulders, concentrating on the bag as he readied his fists. But as the first punch hit the bag, the smile quickly fell from your face.

It echoed up into the rafters, startling you enough to still your sprint abruptly. He let out a grunt as he pummeled at the bag; left jab, right hook, kick, until it broke at the seams and split open to spill sand in heaps upon the ground. He moved on to the next one.

You clasped a hand to your mouth, looking around the gym to confirm you were in fact alone with him. He’d been on a mission as far as you were aware for the last week. You’d missed him hanging around the lab, asking questions as you worked on new advancements on the stun guns for field agents. He must have gotten back a few hours ago and something clearly went wrong.

“Bucky?” you called, voice far too soft to be heard across the gym and above the thunderous clash of his knuckles to leather. You jogged a few paces closer, wincing as he threw the entirely of his momentum into a hit that would have broken an ordinary man’s hand. “Bucky? Are you alright?”

But he didn’t hear you. You took a cautious look back at the doors, wondering if you should go find Steve, or maybe even Sam – someone who might know what happened, someone who might be able to talk him down. But you were the only one around. You cleared your throat, stepping up just behind him.

“Bucky?”

You hit the ground before you knew what had happened.

A blinding pulsing in the back of your head, the wind momentarily knocked from your lungs, you opened your eyes to find Bucky hovering over you. He held a closed fist in the air, the other digging sharply into your shoulder between his grip, pupils blown wide and dark. It took a moment before he seemed to realize who was laying under him.

“Y/n?” He blinked, confused. His stare flickered to the fist held above your head, knuckles dripping red and bloody, and he pulled away instantly, a flash of horror written over his features. “Shit-- I didn’t... What are you doing here?”

You rubbed at the back of your head, brushing over a slight bump that would certainly mend itself within a few minutes. Slowly, you sat up, careful of the sudden darkness that swept over your eyes, though something cool grabbed onto you before you could fall back against the floor.

“Hey, come lean against the wall, okay?” Bucky urged, carefully guiding you to adjust your position until you could press your back to the chill of the plastered walls. You sighed in contentment, the pain in your pain already dissipating. Bucky swallowed nervously. “Did I hurt you?”

“I don’t stay hurt for long, Buck,” you told him with a teasing smile, though he did not return it. You set a hand on his forearm, squeezing it lightly before returning it to your lap. “I’m alright. I promise. Are you?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“You were beating that punching bag within an inch of its life,” you clarified, chuckling as you gestured to the exploded bag on the floor, and then to the one still hanging with sand streaming down the seams.

“Rough mission,” was all he said, his eyes downcast.

You nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, listening to the soft buzz of the air conditioner and the faint chirp of crickets outside the windows. You didn’t expect him to say anything. Bucky was a man of few words, but you hoped the company was enough. He didn’t make an effort to move away, not even when your thigh brushed against his.

He was trying to close his fist when you heard him hiss in pain. His right hand was coated in dried blood and fresh, open wounds on his knuckles. They’d barely started to crust over and with every attempt to close his fist, they cracked open, drawing a painful sting in their place.

“Will you let me heal your hand?”

Bucky paused, setting his hand down on his leg. “Y/n, it’s not necessary. I won’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” you countered. “Besides, it is necessary, actually. How are you going to punch the bad guys if you can’t close your fist?”

“I’ve got another,” Bucky argued back, though a smile had etched its way onto his face. He raised his left hand, making a show of it as he curled his fingers into a fist one by one. “This one’s pretty indestructible so...”

“Please, Bucky.” You turned towards him, folding your legs as you held out your left hand for him to take. “Just this once. Let me do this.”

A stormy array of ocean blue and thunderous skies stared back at you, unsure. His eyes flickered down to your hand. Always so hesitant to ask for help, always so reluctant to accept the good things when they were offered. But as he watched you, searching for signs to run, to back out, something softened.

He swallowed and slowly, placed his right hand into yours.

You smiled, adjusting your grip gently on his hand. You placed it to lay on you knee as you hovered your left hand over his knuckles. The warm glow illuminated from your palm and Bucky’s breath hitched as he must have felt the sudden rush of energy it produced.

The scars began to mend before his eyes and just as you felt the stinging prick on your own knuckles, you quickly pushed your right hand into the pocket of your jacket to hide the scars as they formed.

“That’s incredible,” Bucky exhaled, withdrawing his hand as soon as you were finished. He held it out in front of him, examining the dried blood coated around perfectly intact skin. He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re incredible.”

A rush of heat burned in your cheeks as you looked away, a smile breaking onto your lips. It was enough to distract you from the stinging in your hand tucked away in your pocket.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” you asked, biting on your lip nervously. “Think you could do with the company and I’d like to keep you from breaking more of these expensive punching bags.”

Bucky laughed at that, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He stood and offered you his hand, thinking out loud about which one of the movies on his list he wanted to try out next. You pulled your hand from your pocket and took his as he offered it to you; the knuckles already clean and healed.

***

“You should see it, Fitz! It’s a goddamn stroke of genius.” You held up the ventilator no bigger than the pad of your thumb up to the light, admiring your work.

“I’m sure Stark will be thrilled,” a thick Scottish accent crackled through the speaker on the com beside you. “Send me the schematics, will you?”

You pursed your lips, a smile etching through. “Think you can one-up me?”

“No never,” Fitz laughed. You could hear him tinkering in his own lab on the quinjet, the small clicks of metal and the buzz of a drill humming over the speaker. “Just want to see if I’m still head of our class or not.”

“Pretty sure we both know that title belongs to Simmons.”

There was a slight pause, then, a dreamy, “yeah, you’re right.”

A sudden knocking at the edge of the lab startled you as you spun around in your chair, nearly dropping the ventilator for Stark’s suit. Bucky stood in the doorway, clutching at his left shoulder as fingers dug into the muscle. He wore a sort of guilty look upon his face though he pushed out a smile and waved.

“Hey, Fitz, I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?” you said over your shoulder to the speaker, waited a moment for his response and ended the call. You turned back to Bucky as a smile grew upon your face. “What can I do for you, Sergeant? I didn’t miss movie night, did I?”

“No, you’re in the clear,” Bucky chuckled, though it was tense. He stepped further into the lab, relaxing a little as he noticed no one else was around. It was pretty late for you to be working, but you were so close to finishing the ventilator, and well, time easily got away from you with Fitz on the other end of the phone.

“Coming to keep me company then?” you teased. “I’m actually about done anyway, so we could set up the next movie on your—”

“No, I— um...” Bucky started, losing his nerve rather quickly. He exhaled a tense breath, eyes casting down to the floor. “I was, um, wondering if you could work on my shoulder?”

You raised an eyebrow. Even after that night in the gym, Bucky was still hesitant to your offers to heal his various injuries from the field. He’d give you that sweet smile of his, a soft pink in his cheeks, and tell you that he’d be fine on his own. You never doubted that, but it didn’t mean you couldn't spare him just a few hours of that pain.

“The, um,” Bucky winced, gritting his teeth as he pushed his hand deeper against the tissue, “the nerve endings are acting up. Shuri said it’s to be, uh, expected given how Hydra butchered my arm all those years ago, but...”

“Come here.” You were already removing the files and paperwork from the table, gesturing for him to take a seat.

His whole left arm was slack at his side as if he could barely tolerate to move it. Shallow breaths hitched in his lungs as he leaned against the table, settling against the hard, metal surface.

“Can you take this off?” you asked, nodding to his shirt. Bucky’s cheeks flushed and you cleared your throat nervously, playing with the ends of your hair. “It’ll be more effective if I can touch the area directly.”

He removed his right hand from the muscle at his shoulder and gripped at the hem of his shirt. Slowly, he started to pull it over his head, though you could tell from the harsh exhale in his breath that it was causing him considerable pain.

“Here, let me help you.” You stepped forward and helped ease the fabric up his torso and gently guided it off his right arm, over his head, and eased it down his left. He seemed more at ease with the shirt removed, but a chill swept up his spine in the cool air of the lab.

You kept your eyes on his, determined not to let your gaze fall to the hardened muscles on his chest and stomach.

“I won’t be able to heal the scars,” you told him as you moved around to stand behind the table. “Just try to relax for me, okay? I’ll do what I can for the pain.”

Bucky nodded, his hands clenched into the lip of the table, enough to warp the surface. He could barely muster out a response.

“My hands are a little cold, so...” you muttered out nervously, rubbing your palms together in an effort to warm them.

Then, you set your hands against the mess of scar tissue surrounding his shoulder, starting at his shoulder blades as the glow illuminated bright enough to light up the corner of your lab. Bucky gasped, the first breath in a long time completely filling his lungs as he felt the relief within your touch. You could practically feel the tension melting off his shoulders.

It didn’t take long before the pain made its way to your body. Starting out slow, in numbing aches, until it was so sharp, it felt like a dozen edges of sharp blades puncturing into your shoulder. You clenched your jaw, held your breath, thankful that Bucky couldn’t see your face when you bit down on the inside of your cheek and tears sprung into your eyes.

“God, that... shit...” Bucky sighed, his grip releasing on the table. You could hear the smile in his voice, the relief, and it helped to push aside the pain as it manifested in your body.

You moved your hand up his back, sliding along the scars where his skin met metal, taking as much of his pain as you could. Bucky was exceptionally strong, able to withstand far more than you could without passing out completely. You couldn’t take it all, especially if you wanted to keep him from knowing how your gift truly worked, but you took enough.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, preparing yourself as you moved around to face him. There was more on his chest, by his clavicle, you couldn’t reach from behind him. You'd had years of practice, learning how to keep the pain from displaying on your face. You could get through this for him.

As you stepped in front of him, keeping a steady hold on his shoulder, you could feel his eyes watching you. The glow under your palms was bright enough to illuminate the lab, but it was a gentle light, as soft as the burn of a candle or the golden rays of a sunset. Bucky watched you with a kind of awe that made your stomach twist into knots.

You guided your hand along the scar tissue on his chest, doing your best to ignore the goosebumps as they rose in your wake. Your heart was stammering, louder than the pain radiating in your shoulder, though it lessened the more you worked. The pain had nearly left him entirely as he started to take in more even breaths, relaxing his muscles as you felt them soften under your touch.

You exhaled a tense breath through your nose, concentrating on gathering as much of the pain as you could, on mending the broken nerve endings as they misfired and frayed under the torn appendage. You barely noticed as Bucky crossed his right hand over his chest and laid his hand palm against your hands.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his fingers curling around the undersides of your hands until he gently tugged them away. The glow faded until the lab was only lit by the soft light of the lamp at your desk and the reflection of the moon peering in through the window.

You met his eye, the pain still prominent in your shoulder though you forcibly softened the clench in your jaw as he looked over you. His eyes flickered down to your lips for only a second, but it was enough. Your heart skipped.

Bucky slowly released your hands, letting them fall gently against his thighs, as he leaned forward to cup the sides of your face. Fingers tangling into your hair, you stepped closer, pressed against the table between the parting of his legs.

You wondered if he could feel how fast your heart was racing, or if he could hear it, because you were certain it was going to beat straight out of your chest. The fading pain in your shoulder you’d taken for him was nothing but a forgotten memory as he pressed his forehead to yours, just waiting.

The moment his lips touched yours, you lost your breath; fireworks and butterflies, twists in your stomach and clamoring in your heart. You could feel his smile as it spread into his cheeks, your hands seeking more of him as you slid them up the sides of his bare chest. He was beautiful and perfect and so incredibly wonderful, you’d take hours of his pain, years even, if you could keep kissing him like this.

“Hey, Y/n, I thought you were already done for the—oh, sorry!”

You jolted away from Bucky, restless and a little disheveled, Bucky’s cheeks flamed red, as you turned to find Banner standing awkwardly in the doorway. His hand was shielded over his eyes, his back quickly turned to you as papers littered the floor at his feet. You started to laugh, hand clamping over your swollen lips as you looked over at Bucky.

“It’s no worry, Bruce,” you giggled, quickly skating over to the door to help him pick up the files. Bucky meanwhile shrugged his shirt back on, fixing the flyaways in his hair.

“So sorry,” he mumbled again, clearly embarrassed by his intrusion as he glanced over at Bucky apologetically. He gathered the papers into his arms. “I’ll be going now and, um, I won’t come back, okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Bucky’s eyes blew wide in Banner’s quick escape.

“Still want that company?” you offered with a smile, extending your hand to him. The pain was long gone from your shoulder as he shook himself from the flush in his cheeks and nodded. He took your hand and led you down the hall to the living room. There was another movie on the list to get through.

***

You couldn’t remember the last time you were this happy. Your cheeks began to hurt from how often you were smiling, as if it were a permanent fixture on your features. You’d even caught yourself humming along to the radio as you dusted the surfaces in your lab the morning after Bucky had kissed you goodbye on the landing dock in front of at least a dozen agents.

He’d been away on a mission for the last few days, but he called when he could. You’d spend whatever spare minutes he could get on the satellite phone with him, distracting him from whatever was going on in his end of the world with talk about your latest project with Stark or old stories from the academy with Fitz or what the next movie on the list was going to be.

He wasn’t a man of many words, but you liked knowing he was on the other end of the line. You could picture his smile perfectly in your mind, the way he chewed on his lower lip, how his eyes fell downcast to the floor by your shoes, the flush of pink in his cheeks. It was enough.

“So, things are really heating up with you and Barnes,” Natasha commented as she sipped the top of her steaming coffee before it could spill over the edge. You shrugged, though it was hard to contain your smile. Natasha grinned. “I think it’s good for him. You, too. Don’t know the last time I’ve seen him this happy. He seems more relaxed. Like maybe he’s not carrying the whole world on his shoulders anymore.”

“Helps when he’s not in excruciating pain on a daily basis,” you added, tapping at your left shoulder. He’d let you work on it a few times since that first night. It always took some convincing, but the pain was never as bad as it was that evening. You could take it. You’d do it a thousand times for him without question.

Natasha nodded, a pleased look upon her face. She parted her lips to say more, but a sudden commotion at the end of the hall stole the words from her tongue. You set your coffee down on the counter, peering out around the tables to find agents jumping out of the way of an oncoming train.

“Y/n!” Bucky shouted, voice breaking in the effort as he sprinted down the hall and slammed into an unsuspecting agent. Papers flew into the air as he sprinted towards your room. “Y/n!”

“Bucky?” you called stepping out into the hallway where he could see you.

He skidded to an abrupt stop, his hair flying over his shoulder as he turned in your direction.

“Y/n! Thank God.”

It wasn't until Bucky stood in front of you that you realized he was covered in blood; soaking into his hair, caked under his finger nails, drenched into his suit, and stained to his skin. Your eyes widened, breath all but leaving your lungs, as your hands clutched against his jacket. He tried to pull you back towards the stairs, but you couldn’t budge, not with that much blood all over him.

“What-- What happened? Are you hurt?” You started seeking out exposed skin an effort to draw away any pain you could, even if you couldn’t see any exposed wounds.

Bucky's hand slid over yours, pulling it away. He softened, though you could still see the frantic rise and fall of his chest.

“It’s not my blood. It’s Steve’s.”

Your stomach sank; relief mixed into an ugly shade of guilt and grief. Natasha was already sprinting down to the med bay, coffee mug cracked and spilled upon the tile floors. Her footsteps echoed through the hallway, the sudden clanging of the double doors startling you from your daze.

“Please, I—I need you,” Bucky begged, his voice shaking. Tears were burning in his eyes. You’d never seen him this afraid; this shaken and helpless. “It’s not good, Y/n. He’s-- He’s--”

“Okay.” You pressed a hand to his cheek, brushing your thumb sweetly across his face and smeared the tears as they cleaned the dried blood away. You didn’t need to hear anymore. All you wanted was to take his pain, even if your gift couldn’t touch it as it nestled deep into his heart.

By the time you reached the med bay, a storm of chaos had already barreled through. Lab equipment was knocked over on its side. Dozens of agents frantically running around, shouting orders at one other. Papers and schematics lined the floor with imprinted of boots damaging the print. But it was the trail of blood that drew your attention.

Droplets trailing from the loading bay of the jet to down the med wing to the surgical room. Dark red and oozing. Taunting. Far too much for any ordinary man to have lost. You tried to stifle the gasp as it hitched in your breath the moment you saw him.

Steve was strung up on a gurney, suit cut down the middle and flayed open, exposing his chest and the three bullet holes expelling pints of blood. The hands of several agents were pressing down onto him, trying to keep pressure on the wounds, deep red slipping out from between their fingers. The look on their faces said enough – he wasn’t going to make it.

“Where’s Helen?” you gaped, staring at Steve.

“Ten minutes out.” Tony stumbled into the room as he rounded the corner, holding a stat phone in his hand. “She’s in the chopper.”

“He can’t wait ten minutes.” Bucky gripped tight to you hand and you could feel the tension radiating in his muscles. You wanted to take it for him but he pulled his hand before you could, turning to face you. “You’re all we have. Y/n, please. I can’t lose him.”

Bucky had never once asked you to heal someone like this. He could barely muster the will to ask you to heal his own wounds, to ease the constant stream of pain in his shoulder, and the open wounds on his hand. But with Steve’s life in the balance, he didn’t have room to be hesitant anymore. He couldn’t risk his best friend’s life.

But he didn’t know it would risk yours in the process.

You swallowed, glancing back nervously at Steve. “I’ve never healed anything this bad before, Buck. I don’t know if I can--” survive this.

Could your body heal fast enough to take on his injuries? Could you do them one by one? Would he live long enough to even try? Would either of you?

“Y/n, please. He’ll die without you,” Bucky begged, his voice wavering. Tears reflected in his eyes; gentle pale blue obstructed by a swarm of fear and guilt and desperation, a redness straining into the surrounding white until his cheeks were wet. The dried blood cleared in streaks as they traveled down to his jawline.

You watched him as he bit down onto his lip, shielding his face from the others as he waited. The frantic beeping of the monitor strapped to Steve’s chest was growing frantic, irregular, and you knew there wasn’t much time left.

The worst you’d ever attempted to heal before had been the stabbing of a stranger. You’d found her clutching stomach in an abandoned alleyway in Queens, contents of her purse spilled to the pavement, jewelry torn from her neck. You'd knelt down beside her and took her pain without so much as a second thought.

As her wound began to close, your skin split open, blood soaked into your shirt, your vision grew dark and hazy, until it was nothing at all.

The last thing you remembered of that night was the horror in the woman’s eye as she scrambled away from you and ran back to the safety of the open streets. You woke in a pool of your own blood hours later – longer than it had ever taken to heal before.

A scar remained on your stomach from that night. The only one on your body. A warning.

Test the limits of your gift again and learn why it’s called a sacrifice.

But as you looked back at Bucky, at a man who never dared to ask you for anything until it was unbearable, who wore his own scars and healed his own injuries in fear of exploiting your gift, who was impossibly gentle for the evil he was surrounded in for decades – you couldn’t find it in yourself to say no. You didn’t want to.

Bucky must have noticed the change in your expression because his shoulders softened immediately, a heavy sigh sinking through his body. He pushed forward and pressed a quick kiss to your lips; short, chaste, and still—filled with a world of emotion, of gratitude, of relief. It gave you the courage to do what needed to be done.

Tony began to shout for the room to clear the moment you approached the table. You stared down at Steve, whose skin had grown nearly translucent, the monitor above displaying his heart beat as it evened out to a nearly thin line. He was fading fast. You wouldn’t have much time.

Everything around you became muted, distorted, as you channeled your focus; the huddled whispers of the agents hovering over Steve with their hands pressed to open wounds sounded as if they were miles away.

Bucky stood at your side, watching anxiously though he tried his best to remain stoic and unaffected, though you knew he was splintering apart at the seams. Natasha and Sam were huddled in the far corner, talking quietly amongst themselves as they tried to put the pieces together as to what happened out in the field. Tony was shooing away stay agents with the threat of force, while Banner did his best to remotely disengage the power on Tony’s glove.

None of it registered. Not beyond the flow of blood coating Steve’s chest and dripping onto the floor, your shoes stepping into the pool below. It was a miracle he was still alive at all. The serum was the only thing tying him to this Earth.

You stretched out your hands, hovering over his chest and the agents quickly dispersed. You didn’t dare steal a glance in Bucky’s direction as the glow began to emit under your palms, afraid he might see the goodbye in your eyes or the apology for what he was about to witness. There wasn’t time.

The pain was sudden. Sharp. Like you’d felt the bullets rip straight through you as if you stood on the battlefield in Steve’s place. You cried out at the impact of it, nearly thrown from your stance as you clutched into Steve’s body.

Bucky jolted beside you, startled as you cried out again, desperate to choke down the screams before they passed your lips. He stared at you, wide eyed, as you clenched your jaw.

“Y/n? Are you—”

Another scream tore through you and Bucky visibly flinched. You didn’t have the energy to hide the pain from him, not with three bullets tearing through you. You had to save Steve; put the full force of your power into healing his wounds before they consumed him whole. Damn the consequences. Damn the sacrifice of your gift.

Your body was always meant to be the host of broken bones and bullet wounds and bruises. Made to be broken and mended. A host to others. A graveyard of injuries that did not belong to you.

It was what your parents had told you from the time you were a child; that you were a gift to others, that you were a vessel to better the world. But it came at a price; one, it seemed, you’d soon enough pay.

Your legs began to shake as a wave of darkness cast over your vision, tunneling, consuming the space around you. You could only vaguely make out Bucky’s voice calling your name, his tone laced confusion and concern, but you blocked it out. Daring to look in his direction now would only hinder your resolve and you needed to save Steve’s life.

Concentrating your power, a scream ripped through your lungs as the glow illuminated the entire room, enough that Bucky was forced to shield his eyes.

The wounds were taking hold on your body. One at your stomach. Another along your ribs. The third, just above your chest. Exit wounds opening on your back. You could feel the drip of blood as it slid down your skin; thick and unrelenting.

You were growing light headed as the pain started to dissipate. But the wounds were still fresh on your body, still open and bleeding; the pain shouldn’t have faded so quickly.

The steady beep of the monitor indicated that Steve was stabilizing, the flesh had nearly closed, and you barely registered Helen’s voice as she rushed into the room, ordering her team to take over.

“Hey, hey, you did it, sweetheart. You did good,” Bucky exhaled. He had the most beautiful smile on his face; filled with a sense of pride an awe, stunning and handsome beyond belief, even with traces of concern still evident in his eyes.

But you were stone. A statue. You couldn’t move without fear of collapsing completely.

“He’s stable now, Y/n,” Bucky eased, trying to pull you gently away from the table. “Come here, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

Bucky hand set against your stomach when you didn’t follow and he froze; the sticky wet residue of fresh blood on his hand. He stared down at his palm in horror as the blood began to seep through your shirt in three distinct spots, all perfectly aligning with the ones on Steve’s chest.

Bucky darted forward, pushing up your shirt to find the wounds he’d seen healed on his best friend moments ago littered over your stomach. His mouth went dry, throat lined with sandpaper, rocks shoved down into his lungs. His hand trembled as it reached out and touched the bullet wound on your ribs. His breath hitched as he felt the warmth of blood and the tear of flesh in your skin.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Is Steve alive?” Your voice was barely a whisper and you wondered if Bucky could even hear you at all. His eyes were glossed over in fresh tears, lips parted in shock as he stared back at you. You could hardly keep your eyes open.

Before he could respond, your legs gave way and you stumbled back out of Bucky’s hold. Your vision was closing in, a dark cloud of black swarming around you as your foot caught on the edge of toppled lab equipment. You were in Bucky’s arms again before you made it to the floor.

You didn’t hear him screaming for help, didn’t hear the shattering crack in his voice, or the crash of equipment behind you as Simmons raced into the room. You didn’t feel his hands as they desperately pressed onto the open wounds, or the heat of his breath as he begged you to ‘stay with me, sweetheart’. But you felt the warmth of his embrace.

It was comforting as the darkness pulled you under.

***

A heaviness draped over you. Soothing. Pressing you into the soft cushion below. A repetitive chime rang above; even in tone, consistent. It drew you back from the kind embrace of shadows, calling you toward a flicker of light.

Pressure squeezed at your hand. Cold and warm at once. Solid and soft.

You listened for the chime; allowed it to guide you as the rest of your senses awakened.

The chatter of voices in the distant too muffled to distinguish. The distinct smell sterilizing alcohol that burned in your nose. The heat of a thick blanket tucked around your legs. The chill of a breeze streaming from the humming vent above. Scratchy bed sheets and laundry fresh clothes a few sizes too big for your frame.

You groaned, trying to adjust to the influx of light as you opened your eyes. It was a room you recognized. White. Clean. Far too bright. You’d been within the walls dozens of times before, but never laid upon the bed. It was a strange view.

Glancing down, you found yourself dressed in a dark grey t-shirt that didn’t belong to you. The logo was faded on the chest but it was still recognizable. Vintage. An eagle at the center of a circle, it’s wings remarkably similar to the symbol of the Howling Commandos. Around the edge: Strategic Scientific Reserve. You’d seen Bucky wear it until the hem frayed. Sure enough, as you reached for the bottom of the shirt, you found the split seams.

A slight squeeze on your hand again drew your attention to your right. There, you found Bucky hunched over the side of the bed; both hands encasing yours, his forehead rested on the very edge of the mattress.

A smile tugged at your lips until it started to ache. Unused muscles, must be. You wondered how long you’d been out this time. Must have been longer than a few hours. Bucky’s back would need your attention after the way he’s been sleeping.

“Bucky,” you tried to call, but found your voice was nothing more than a breath of air. You winced, testing it again. “Bucky?”

He only hummed in response. The sweet vibrations nestled against your arm. It took him a minute as he lifted his head, stretched out his upper back, matted hair fallen down into his face, before he caught your eye; glancing around the room, checking the door, the heart monitor above, like it had become routine, until he realized you were watching him.

He froze, eyes wide. “Y/n?”

You nodded sleepily, pushing out a smile. “What’d I miss?”

Bucky didn’t laugh. His hands were still gripped tight to yours, squeezing at them as if he were checking to make sure you were real.

Your smile began to fall the longer he stared at you. “How long was I out? Is Steve okay?”

Bucky cleared his throat, nodding, though it seemed strained. “Y-yeah, Steve’s fine. Doc said he’d make a full recovery thanks to you.”

“That’s good,” you replied, but Bucky couldn’t so much as force a smile. He couldn’t seem to look at you, his hands playing with the lines in your palms. It was then you started to notice the dark circles under his eyes, the wrinkles in days old clothing, the hallowed look upon his face. Your stomach sank. “How long was I out?”

Bucky’s paused for a moment, his movements stilling as he traced your lifeline. He sighed, resuming again. “Six days.”

“Oh.”

A silence swept over the room. You’d never been under that long before. Frankly, you were a little surprised you woke up at all given the extent of Steve’s injuries. Your fingers dipped under the hem of Bucky’s old t-shirt and grazed over the bullet wound on your ribs, feeling for the raised edges of a fresh scar. It didn’t heal, as you suspected the others hadn’t; laid to rest next to the knife wound from the woman in the alley. Injuries you were never meant to survive.

“Were you ever going to tell us?”

You looked up, startled by Bucky’s voice as it wavered. He brushed at his eyes; red and glossy.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“No,” you admitted and Bucky’s shoulders slumped. He sank back further into his chair and you could read the disappointment on his face. You gritted your teeth, preparing to deliver the same speech you’d been telling yourself for years. “My body could handle it, Buck. It was only a few minutes of pain to trade for weeks or months of your own. It kept you in the field and off the bench. The world needs you guys. It was worth it for me. I could handle it.”

“Until you couldn’t!” Bucky snapped, startling you as he tugged his hand from your grasp and began to pace around the room. His fingers raked into his hair, gripping at unwashed strands. “You almost died, Y/n! You almost died because I fucking begged you to use your powers to save Steve and I—Jesus, Y/n — if I had known what it does to you, I never would have asked you to do that!”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” you replied gently, wanting nothing more than to ease him. Bucky shook his head, unwilling to accept your answer. “Bucky, if you knew that healing a papercut hurt me, you wouldn’t let me do that either.”

He paused; arms folded over his chest though he wouldn’t look at you. “No, I wouldn’t.”

You softened, sitting up in the bed, though a dull pain rushed made it rather difficult, leaving you to clutch at your stomach. It ached as you moved, an unfamiliar feeling, and the tension quickly faded from Bucky’s shoulders when he heard you whine.

You pushed through the pain in your stomach, holding up a hand as Bucky started to step forward to help you. It would fade. It always does. You’d heal and move on, until the next injury came through. It was routine. It was your life.

So, you told him as much.

“I’d do it again.”

Bucky frowned. He looked like he wanted to just lay on the bed beside you, curl up against your chest and sleep. He was exhausted. And still—he couldn’t let it go.

“You almost died—”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

“A sacrifice?” Bucky’s face contorting in horror. “Are you insane? You're not a sacrifice, Y/n!”

You nodded, determined; the words of your parents, the village elders, ringing in your ears. “That what this gift is, Bucky! I can’t actually heal anyone other than myself, but I can transfer the injuries and the pain to my body. That I can heal. It’s what I was born for! It’s my purpose. I was made to be a sacrifice.”

“Not for me!” Bucky held his ground, voice firmer than you’d ever heard it. “Nothing is worth that to me! Do you understand that? I won’t trade your life for anyone’s, not even Steve’s, and I sure as hell don’t care how many bones I break or how bad the nerves in my shoulder misfire. I won’t put that on you again. The team won’t either.”

You clenched your jaw, heart starting race. No one had ever challenged you on this before. No one had ever questioned whether your gift should be used at all. No one ever seemed to care of the effect it had on your body, never thinking to look past the extraordinary abilities to the mutilation under the surface.

No one until Bucky.

You curled your hands into the thin sheets at your waist. “Bucky, don’t be ridiculous. I’m saving you all from weeks of unnecessary healing. I can handle the pain. It’s an easy trade for—”

Bucky’s fist met the wall. “You’re worth more than just a vessel for our pain, Y/n!”

“What the hell is going on in here!?” Helen Cho rushed into the room, eyes darting between Bucky standing by the corner of the room, shaking out his hand, and you as you laid in the bed at the center, the heart monitor above pulsing far too quickly.

Bucky seemed to notice the frantic beeping of the monitor and the anger quickly drained from his face.

Helen glared at him as she stepped closer to you, beginning to check your vitals. “You should leave,” she shot over her shoulder. Your stomach twisted to knots as Bucky nodded defeatedly and walked to the door.

“No, don’t--” you called, voice small, nervous. He paused in the frame, glancing back at you with a raised eyebrow. “Please, Bucky. Stay.”

Helen set a hand on your shoulder as if to ask if you were sure. You nodded.

“You may be able to heal yourself, but you’re still recovering,” Helen advised, tapping on the IV drip. “Take it easy, alright?”

Bucky remained stoic by the door after Helen left. He didn’t say anything for a while, his eyes focused on the tile floors at his feet, waiting until the heart monitor chimed in even, steady counts.

“Will you sit down? You’re making me nervous,” you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. It got him to look at you, at least. While he couldn’t muster a smile, it was clear he was drained of the anger that had quickly taken hold of his body; anger that was never once reserved for you, but for the voices in your head that deemed you unworthy of more than a body to be used by others.

Bucky sank into the chair at your bedside.

“When’s the last time you slept, Buck?”

He stayed silent. It was enough of an answer. You didn’t dare ask the last time he left this room, not with the shiny reflection at his roots and the red strained in his eyes. Six days at your bedside, hunched over on a cold, unforgiving chair, clutching your hand. It ached deep into your bones.

“I mean what I said,” Bucky mumbled, slowly brining himself to meet your eye. He reached out for your hand, letting the comforting chill of solid metal lay below as the warmth of flesh and muscle laid on top. He brought your fingertips to his lips and gently kissed at your knuckles.

You sighed at the feeling. “Bucky, I...”

“You’re more important to us than your abilities,” he pressed, a sincerity behind his words and laced delicately into sweet shades of blue. “You do a lot of good to keep us safe with the tech you’ve been building and the adjustments to the suits. You’re incredible at what you do, Y/n. Your worth isn’t based on how many injuries you can heal or how much pain you can handle. We care about you. I care about you. Isn't that enough?”

You didn’t know.

You’d never known anyone to prioritize you over your gift. You parents had exploited it from the moment it was discovered your ability; showing you off, treating you as an idol to be worships and adorned. They put their child through broken bones and lacerations and asthma attacks. They sat back and watched as you healed strangers of arthritis and sprained ankles and migraines. Their child cried as they collected their winnings.

Were you afraid it would happen again? Is that why you kept it from the team? From Bucky? You’d convinced yourself it was noble to silently suffer in their place, but you started to wonder if it amounted to little more than your parent's words whispered into your ear: your ability is a gift to the world, a sacrifice unto yourself.

“Would you ask any of us to suffer in your place?” Bucky questioned, drawing you from the mess inside your head with the gentle vibration in his voice.

“I just want to help you...” you murmured, tears slipping past your cheeks.

Bucky reached forward and brushed the tears as they fell, sliding his hand against your cheek and nestling against your hair. You leaned into the touch.

“So, we find a middle ground, okay?” Bucky offered, smiling enough to push into his cheeks, though his eyes were still heavy. “No trivial injuries. No life-threatening injuries. We take the stuff in-between case by case.”

“Your shoulder,” you added, determined. Buck started to shake his head but you pressed harder. “Five minutes of pain to spare months of yours, Bucky. No lasting damage. Don’t argue with me on this one.”

It brought the smile back to Bucky’s eyes as he eventually nodded. You knew he had no real authority to decide what injuries you could and couldn’t heal, but you’d never had anyone who dared to put you first. You trusted him to do that; you trusted him more than yourself, anyway.

“We decide the rest together,” you told him. “I get the final say but... I need you to tell me if I’m pushing it too much, but I won’t be too cautious, either. No discriminating against Sam.”

“No promises,” Bucky chuckled, playing with the ends of your hair dreamily. “The other stuff I can deal with.��

“Okay,” you exhaled, relief sweeping through your body.

“Okay.”

“Think I’ll be lucky if anyone on the team even lets me touch them for a few months after this ordeal, though, huh?” You laughed and though it ached in your stomach, it was considerably less than it was moments earlier. You didn’t mind the dull pain. It was familiar, almost a comfort. Steve was alive because of it.

“Yeah, can’t say anyone was thrilled to find out how your powers actually worked,” Bucky chuckled. “But they’re happy you’re alright. I’m sure Steve will be, too. He was pissed when he woke up and learned what you did.”

You clenched your jaw. “Never good to be on Cap’s bad side...”

“No, it’s not,” Bucky agreed, wide smile pressed to the back of your hand, his lips touching over exposed skin. “He doesn’t like when anyone else pulls a self-sacrificial move. It’s kinda his thing. Diving into the Atlantic and all. We don’t really need two of you running around...”

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, swatting Bucky away. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, the pain in your stomach long forgotten, or maybe it had finally healed. You supposed it didn’t matter.

They were scars that would never heal. Like the knife wound. Like mesh of hardened tissue around Bucky’s shoulder, stretching out onto his chest and back. Reminders of when you were too both close to the edge, to the brink of darkness. Reasons to push back towards the light.

read the sequel here!

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader

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ellana-ravenwood · 3 years

Text

“You’re not my real mom !” - Batkids x Fem!Reader (Batmom)

Synopsis : A story about those few dreaded words : “You’re not my real mom”, said by the batkids, to you, in a the heat of a moment. And the aftermath of it all...

This has been in my draft for ages. I hope you like it :) :

my masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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DICK

It happened so fast. In a quick moment of anger.

A flash, a bang, words said too quickly to truly realize their meaning.

Dick was frustrated because he felt you didn’t understand him, his point of view. And you were trying to explain to him that it was not okay to...

You know what ?

You couldn’t even remember what he did. As if whatever it was, it was all wiped out of your memory when he pronounced those bone chilling words.

You only remembered you were “scolding” him, just like parents do when their child did something he wasn’t supposed to. You rarely told Dick off, even when he would burst into fits of anger.

You always told him : “When you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son, I love all of you.”

And you meant it. Often, you or Bruce would take the brunt of his anger, without batting an eye. After all, that child went through a lot. It was totally normal for him to lash out at times.

He saw his parents died right in front of him. It wasn’t a trauma that would be solved that fast (Bruce was proof of it). “The magic of love” couldn't simply cure someone who was so deeply hurt. Although it helped, over time.

Yes. Time.

It would take time, and support, for Dick to heal. And you were here for it. Here for him.

But there were times, you had to say something.

Usually, it was when he was being too reckless.

Your son could be overzealous, and go too far. And you were so worried about his safety and wellbeing...Very rarely, you’d have to “scold” him.

And you couldn’t even remember what you were lecturing him about that evening (even if you had an idea it was about being a little more careful). All you remembered was...

“You’re not even my real mom ! You can’t tell me anything !”

And him turning away from you, crossing his arms and refusing to look your way. Which was good anyway, because you were an instant mess.

“Ok”, you managed to say, wondering how the hell you were able to get the words out. And then you left. Feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. And your heart slowly breaking.

Bruce found you two later, both clearly feeling down...

Dick stayed quiet the entire time they were on patrol, and Bruce instantly knew something was wrong. He wasn’t there during your fight, and he only arrived when you were already gone, surprised that you went to bed so early in the night, and didn’t stay with your son downstairs until it was time for patrol...

The man didn’t push the boy, waiting for him to open up if he wanted to. And as usual, Dick did finally speak up. In a weak voice, as they were surveying the city from a rooftop, he said :

“I told her she wasn’t my real mom...”

“Ah.”

Bruce felt the urge to go back home and console you, knowing that you were certainly a mess, right now. But he had to take care of his boy, too.

And oh, oh Dick looked so crestfallen and sad as the meaning of his words slowly etched into his mind.

“I told her she wasn’t-she wasn’t-but she is I just-I-I don’t know why I said that-I...”

The little one was on the verge of tears, and Bruce understood why.

He probably understood more than anyone else.

He told Alfred “You’re not my dad !” more than once, and remembered how even the stoic butler looked, whenever he said it.

He remembered the hurt in his eyes, the resignation too. The “very well sir”, said in a neutral manner, but the stiff way he’d left the room.

It took Bruce a while, to finally realize that Alfred WAS his father. That he raised him, most definitely. And was always there for him during the hard times.

That he even helped and supported him, when he came back after disappearing for years, saying : “I’m going to dress up as a bat and wipe crimes from Gotham”. ...How many parents would be that understanding, eh ?

Alfred knew Bruce. And always tried to do his best for him. So whenever Bruce would yell at him that he “wasn’t his father”, it hurt.

Bruce knew it. He noticed how Alfred’s entire demeanor would change. He’d see a light go out in his eyes.

“Very well, sir.”, a small bow, and the stiffness of his body as he left...

And Bruce remembered.

The guilt and the pain he felt himself, as he regretted ever saying those words. As he knew they were going to hurt, which is why he said them in the first place.

It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt his adopted father, oh no. It was that sometimes he just...He just felt so angry ! Like everything was unfair ! And he missed his parents so much !

It was a force stronger than him, he wanted Alfred to leave him alone, and pushed him away...”You’re not my dad !”. So yes. Bruce understood little Dickie. He understood you, too. He knew how you must’ve felt, he saw it enough happening to Alfred.

Once you’d get home, he would take care of you. But right now, he had to care for his son.

Right here, on one of Gotham’s rooftop, the scary and mighty Batman slowly kneeled down, and took his boy in his arms, holding him tightly.

Dick didn’t need more to throw his arms around his father’s shoulders, and hold him strongly too, with all his nine years old strength, sobbing slowly.

Bruce drew soothing circles on his back, and whispered :

“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok. It’s ok. Calm down, things are going to be ok.”

Your husband lost count of the time passing. Were they there, holding each others while Dick was sobbing uncontrollably, for ten minutes, or for ten hours ? He didn’t know. And he didn’t budge.

His son needed him. Just like once, he needed Alfred...

Dick fell asleep in his arms, and that night, Bruce came home early.

Not like he was going to stay out anyway, knowing you were probably devastated, all alone in your room...

************

Dick fell into a deep sleep, and didn’t budge one bit even as Bruce came down the building, rode home, and put him into bed.

Bruce’s guess was that all the pent up feelings truly exhausted him. Also, he knew that crying could be tiring. And freeing, in a way.

Putting the boy’s blanket all the way up to his chin, Bruce laid a kiss on his forehead and then rushed to your shared bedroom...

You had cried too, but you were not asleep.

Your eyes were puffy and red, and your cheeks marked with your tears. You seemed surprised, when he came in, and looked at the clock.

It was only midnight ?

“Hello, my love.”

He sat down next to you, and from the way he ran his fingers through your hair, and caressed your cheek, wiping the salty tears from it...You knew he knew.

He knew how devastated you felt. How those simple words that would mean nothing for many, truly wounded you.

He knew how much you loved that boy, how as soon as your eyes laid on his little face that terrible night he lost his parents, you felt like he was going to be your son one day.

He knew how much you’d sacrifice for that kid’s happiness, how far you’d go to keep him safe...And so, how hurtful him telling you you weren’t his real mother must’ve felt.

There was no need for words.

He knew what to do. He laid next to you, and you just cuddled up to him, letting him wrap you up in his warm embrace.

He drew those same soothing circles on your back than he did on Dick’s. And whispered :

“He didn’t mean it. He truly didn’t. He loves you, you know. I love you too.”

You fell asleep to his words of love and reassurance, finally letting go after hours of not being able to sleep, reenacting the terrible scene in your head over and over again, making yourself feel worst each times.

************

You woke up around 4 am, with Bruce’s arms wrapped around you.

He was asleep and escaping his grasp (without Alfred’s help) took you a little bit..but you managed to leave without waking him up.

He did groan a little at the loss of your warmth, and grabbed your pillow to hold it against his chest. Which was extremely cute, and oh how glad you were to be the only one to see this side of him.

You went down to the kitchen and...

Dick was coming from the other door, opposite to the one you took.

The kitchen had three access. Two doors facing each others, and one on the third wall. The door you took was because you got a little lost and did a detour through the drawing room. Dick, however, came from the door you should’ve come from too, which was the one you accessed from the West Wing third corridors, which was directly under your bedroom, and Dick’s.

The boy probably stood up a little after you, and while you got lost in your own home (again), he took the normal way and...

Boom. Here you both were, arriving in the kitchen at the same time.

There was a small silence. Awkward. And...

Your heart tightened.

Dick was sort of cowering backward in fear. Fear of what ?

Oh. But of course.

“He didn’t mean it.”

Bruce whispered to you many times, before you fell asleep. And the way Dick looked at you, worry in his eyes...He was thinking you were mad at him. And the regret in his pupils was as obvious as that fact.

“Ice cream ?”

You ask him. His eyes widen a bit, and you can almost see the gears in his brain trying to piece everything together. You’re...not mad at him ?

Of course you’re not. You felt sad, and lost, and hurt, yes. But never did you feel any hint of anger. Of course not.

You take out his favorite flavor from the freezer, and settle a bowl in front of one of the high stool around the counter.

At that time, Dick was so tiny. A very short little bean. And he’d stay small for a long time, only having a sudden spurt when he was around fifteen.

He climbed onto the stool, and watched you as you gave him some ice cream and a spoon, and then sat down next to him to eat some as well.

The silent was slowly turning less awkward.

Slowly, and unsurely, Dick picked his spoon up and looked at you. And completely missed his mouth, the ice cream spreading on his cheek instead.

You turn around to look at him, ice cream on his cheek, and he’s clearly embarrassed, as a tint of color slowly rises on his face.

You don’t really know why, but something snaps in you and you start laughing. And laughing. And laughing.

Because honestly, the kid missing his mouth as he picked his spoon up full of ice cream, is kinda funny right ? And also, all the tension and stress you felt suddenly broke with this simple, silly thing.

Unsure at first, Dick just looked at you. But your laughter quickly spread to him, and soon enough, you both were bursting out in laughter.

Anyone not knowing what happened, would probably think you were both crazy, laughing that hard for no apparent reasons.

Instinctually, you ruffle his hair and Dick gasps. You really weren’t mad at him ?!

You realized what you did, and slowly, both your laughter subsided. There was a small silence as Dick stared at you, and you stared back, and then :

“I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it !”

He says in a small voice, and he can’t add anything else as you just pick him up and hold him tight against your heart, and you say :

“I know.”

And it’s all he needs to realize you’re not really mad at him, and although he messed up and hurt you, right now, you were both on the path of recovery...

Next morning, Bruce woke up alone in bed, which greatly distressed him as usual (he often woke up first). But a gut feeling was telling him that...

He found you asleep with Dick in his bed, holding him tightly.

************

After that event, you sat down with him, so you could have a serious talk about the underlining issue this raised. Talk about something important.

“Little bird, you know I love you, right ?”

He nods, but still cannot speak quite yet, doesn’t have the energy to.

“I want you to understand something. Something vital. Are you listening ?”

He nods again, his eyes fixed on you. And he’s listening, oh he definitely is.

“It’s ok to be angry. It’s ok to lash out. It’s ok to not be alright. It’s ok to make mistakes.”

He nods, a little slower than before, and you can see his eyes slowly becoming wetter and wetter.

“It’s ok. It really is. I’m here. And I love you. Even when you don’t want me around. Even when you push me away. I’m here. And I always will be. Ok ?”

He nods one last time, unable to hold his tears, and then his little arms latch around you, and he refuses to let go for well over an hour...

Oh. Sweet, sweet boy.

Your son.

************

Even now, at age twenty seven, Dick still often think about this day. And the regrets are as burning as they were back then.

He often thought about it.

Whenever you did something for him, went out of your way to make him happy, or were just there for him, always...

He’d have a flashback of this day, and feel nothing but regret and anger at his younger self.

And then you’d read him like an open book. Know exactly what he was thinking, and would slowly shake your head, and say : “I know I often said that, but I will say it till the day I die if I need to : when you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son. I love all of you. Even when you’re a little bit of a jerk.” and you’d wink at him, making him chuckle and feel a surge of affection toward you.

Kind of like the ones you’d feel sometimes. A sudden urge to hug your family, to tell them what they mean to you. Both you and Dick understood since a long time that with the life you all lead, you never knew what could happen, and should never waste a “I love you” if you felt like saying it.

Well, the apple never fall far from the tree ?

Yes. Because you were his mom. And nothing would ever change his mind on that. Ever.

JASON

"Well Jason, you did it you idiot !”

He says to himself in the mirror, and oh he could’ve punch himself if it was possible. He took his desk chair, and threw it across his bedroom, letting out a scream of frustration.

He went to his desk, and threw everything that was on it on the floor. He then went to his book shelves and...

There. Your book. The one you wrote for him.

Jason fell to his knee, holding his head in his hands, crying softly.

Yes. Yes he did it...He ruined this one chance life gave him to have parents.

He hurt one of the person that meant the most to him, one of the person he loved the most...His mom. You.

Because you were his mom, no matter what he told you, in that moment of anger as you scolded him after he did something dangerous during one of his patrol.

He hadn’t been allowed to go out for long, by then. And Bruce had already scolded him before for the very same thing, so when you did it too, he had enough and...it happened before he could think about it.

He was angry, about the lack of trust and about the sermons, and his brain tried to hurt without even thinking about it. Triggered by years of living in the streets, where he had to think quick and act right away, and then suffer the consequences. If he wasn’t fast enough, it could be the end of him...

A gut reaction triggered by years of being all on his own, having to fend for himself. His brain went into overdrive, “hurt” is what it set into motion.

“You’re not my mom !”

And that was it...

As he saw your face fell, and his father’s face turn angry, he knew. He knew he messed up. He messed everything up, as usual !

“Jason !”

Bruce called, but Jason wasn’t about to stop. He ran out of the cave, right to his bedroom. Oh, oh but if only he stayed a little longer. He’d realize that his father wasn’t angry, just hurt as well.

Hurt to see the woman he loved being hurt.

Not angry. Ah but being in pain could sometimes look like you are mad ? And Bruce hadn't been able to hide his frown as he heard Jason’s words...

“Let him be, Bruce.”

You say in a weak voice. You knew Jason, you knew sometimes he needed to cool down on his own. That he could be impulsive, but always came around.

Ah. But that time, he needed everything but to be alone.

Because, as he thought he ruined his one chance at having a real family, he thought...

“Better to leave before they throw me away !”

He knew he could never bear to face you and Bruce, as you’d certainly tell him you were “un-adopting” him. Jason saw it happened before. Someone thinking their adopted kid was “too much”, and sending them back.

It was awful, of course. But it happened. For real. And Jason knew that life could really suck...But her couldn’t bear to face you as you’d send him away.

Worst, what if you just send Alfred and that was it ?

No. Jason would leave before you could do that. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t.

Filling his backpack with some clothes, and snacks, he opened his window and slid down the gutter all the way to the ground, and then ran away into the night. Tears trailing down behind him, as he left behind the one place in which he ever felt safe, warm, and loved.

In the meantime, you and Bruce were unaware of that, and slowly falling asleep in each others’ arms... As usual, Bruce was there for you.

************

“Jason ? I thought I wouldn’t see you anymore after you got adopted by dem fancy fellas. Are you here to get some work ?”

“No.”

“Really, why did you come then ?”

“I didn’t, I’m just passing by.”

“Nah, don’t believe it. Once a bad boy, always a bad boy !”

“TAKE IT BACK !”

As he ran away, Jason went back to a place he thought he never would need to. A few intricate alleys, in the Bowery, under the main city.

The Bowery, a filthy underground neighborhood, hell on Earth for many. Although things did improve when Batman started his work a few years back.

“Wow there tiger, relax.”

Jason came in this specific area for only one thing. Retrieve a few items he left behind, thinking he would never need it again because he was leaving behind this life.

He had a hideout, not far. In which he hid some materials to survive in the streets. He thought he probably had to go back to stealing cars’ tires...Although maybe he should change it. Thinking of what happened last time he did this hurt his heart.

He knew that next time he’d get caught stealing tires, the person wouldn’t end up adopting him...Anyway, he didn’t want any other parents but you and Bruce.

And he messed that up so bad, by being so mean to you !

“Listen, it’s not because you got all fancy schmancy that you can talk to me like that. Remember who’s boss in this part of town.”

Batman did a lot of good to the city, but also, by getting rid of some big players in the “crime business”, he allowed small time thugs to climb up the ladders...It felt, at times, like there always was someone to replace whoever Bruce just put behind bars...

The man who was talking to Jason, used to be a small time criminal. Turned boss, when the Batman kept arresting all the people above him. Jason used to “work” for him, bringing him watches or jewelry that he’d exchange against cash.

Damn. He never thought he’d ever see him again... Oh and he definitely didn’t think this through.

As the new boss, who’s name was Johnny Clancy, told him that he’d forever be a “bad boy”, Jason saw red and...getting mad at a crime boss was a bad idea.

Before he could even think about an escape plan, Jason was surrounded by dangerous armed men.

“How dare you talk to me like that ? Mmm. The Waynes adopted you right ? Mmm. They’re loaded. Probably would pay a fortune to get you back uh ? And to think they’re gonna give me a lot of cash to get a little runaway brat back haha. Because that’s what you did right ? You ran away ? As you always did before mm ? You know, I observed you Jason Todd. I saw you run away from anyone getting close. I saw you.”

Jason’s heart didn’t need anyone to push and squiggle the knife he felt in around some more. He had just lost his family. Did he need more reminder that he always fucked up ?!

“They won’t give you any money, they don’t want me anymore...”

But Johnny didn’t believe him, of course. He told two of his thugs to grab the boy, but Jason, by instinct, dropped them to the floor with a few well placed kicks and punches.

And that was enough to unleash Johnny Clancy’s wrath.

See, he was a new boss. He had to assert dominance. And an eight years old kid making a fool of him and his gang ? That wouldn’t go.

So what if he had to off a child ? Anything to keep climbing up, and leave the Bowery’s slums.

************

“Have you seen Jason ?”

Bruce asks you, a few hours after your fight with him.

“What ? No, I thought he was with you ?”

“No, he skipped his training and I thought he might be with you, apologizing for what he said yesterday ? You know, sounds like something he would do.”

“I haven’t seen him since, you know. I thought he was avoiding me...”

“He would never.”

“Bruce...”

“He would never, my love. I know what he said hurt you, but I’m sure he’s regretting it right now. You should go see him, he’s probably sulking in his bedroom. I wouldn’t be surprised if you meet him up the stairs as he comes down to say sorry.”

“Bruce...”

Your husband comes to you, and takes your hands in his.

“You know him. He’s impulsive, and a little abrasive sometimes. But he’s a sweet child. And he regrets his bursts, you know it. Tonight was just tough, we both scolded him, he’s not used to it.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am, I’m-”

“I swear to God if you say “I’m Batman” I’m going to smack you.”

Bruce smiles softly at you, glad he managed to at least made the tension go away a little. He pecks your lips quickly, and watches you as you leave to go to your son’s bedroom.

He was about to go down the Batcave, when you came back, panicked :

“He’s gone ! Jason’s gone !”

Ah. Bruce knew that placing a tracker in his children’s molars was a good idea.

************

“HOW HARD IS IT TO CATCH A FUCKING KID ?!”

Jason runs as fast as he can, without looking back. He managed to break the line of thugs coming at him, and escape in-between to of them who didn’t pull their guns out quite yet.

They were shooting at him. With no hesitation.

Johnny was set on proving he was an unscrupulous boss. To earn everyone’s respect. So what if he had to shoot a kid ? It’d send everyone a message. He’d back off from nothing !

Jason turned in an alley and...Damn it ! He must’ve taken a wrong turn at some point, it had been a while, since he roamed the Bowery’s alleyways...

He was faced by a wall, stuck. And they quickly caught up to him.

“Wooouh, you’re fast kid. And you’re sneaky. Too bad you’re such a brat, I bet you could be a nice addition to our-”

Johnny Clancy never finished his sentence. In fact, he never could properly speak after that night. After getting his jaw broken into a thousand pieces by the Batman’s fist.

Bruce had come down from nowhere, with...you in his arms ?!

This was the first time Jason saw you wear the costume he saw a few times in the Batcave. He thought you wore it only to go to the JLA’s watchtower, to hide your identity. Not that you could actually...fight ?!

And wow, you definitely could hold your own ! You made a few disarming pass, taking the guns away from all the men before they could even react, and letting Bruce finish them off with well placed kicks and punches.

Oh and that night, the Batman unleashed his rage and unforgiveness full force. How dare they touch his son ?!

You didn’t have anything to envy from your husband either, however, as you worked through Johnny’s gang rather fast too.

That night, the both of you exterminated (figure of speech, of course, neither of you ever killed, that was the one big rule...but there were never a rule against breaking a few bones) Johnny Clancy’s gang, who dared to even think of hurting your precious son.

Jason, holding his backpack tight against him, couldn’t believe his eyes. You two came to save him ? But...why ?

He messed up. You’d surely not want him around anymore !

Once Bruce dropped the last man, you rushed to Jason and before he could utter a sound, took him in your arms.

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re safe baby, I’m so glad you’re...”

Your voice broke at the end, and you chocked, the emotions too strong and squeezing your throat.

Jason didn’t understand. And through his surprise, he managed to say :

“I thought-I thought you’d never want to see me again, and that you wouldn’t want to be my mom anymore.”

You hold him even tighter, as you feel Bruce get down on his knee and bring the both of you in his arms.

“Oh sweety, never. Never.”

You say, not letting go.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...”

Your son manage to choke out, before sobbing profusely and holding on to you and Bruce.

“I’m just glad you’re safe...it’s ok, it’s ok it’s already forgotten...”

And it was. As soon as you saw that Jason-That your SON, was missing, you forgot he ever told you “you’re not my mom”. You forgot and it truly didn’t matter anymore, as all you cared about was to find him, and make sure he was safe.

“Jason, oh my little Jason, I’m so glad you’re safe...”

Wether it is a conscious things or not, he returns your embrace fiercely, holding tightly as he looks up at you. It almost feels like he wants to make sure you really are there. And won’t go anywhere. Like everyone else did in his life.

Jason was tired of losing those close to him. Those he cared about. Sometimes, he’d push them away, by fear of getting attached again just for life to rip them away from him. So he held onto you, as you held him back.

Tightly against your heart.

“Mom...”

This was the day Jason Todd realized something very important : He wasn’t alone anymore. He had parents who loved him, and he loved them back.

So much.

And they’d never let him go. Never.

************

Years later, this love he had for you and Bruce, turned out to be the very reason he became “Red Hood”.

From that day he told you : “you’re not my real mom !”, he felt like he belonged. Like finally, the people he loved loved him back. Like he was cherished. And then Bruce didn’t avenge him. He let Joker get away. And you let him do it. You, the people he trusted and loved most in the world, betrayed him...

He felt like he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth Bruce breaking his one rule to avenge him. He wasn’t worth it...He didn’t matter enough.

Jason felt so angry. For years. He wanted to hurt you, to hurt Bruce. To show you what it felt like. What HE felt like.

But Jason has always been a strong one. You knew it. You told him enough times : “you’re a fighter, my Jason. You went through so much, and always came out of it. You lost a lot on the way my little one, but you never give up. You never give up...”

You never give up.

Love.

It’s what drove him to become the Red Hood. It’s what drove him over the edge. What gave him so much pain.

Rather, the feeling of not being loved. The thought all you and Bruce said to him, about how much you cared and loved him, was a lie.

Yes. The thought that you lied about loving him, is what broke him. What made him find every way possible to truly, truly hurt you two.

You never give up.

He was so angry. But he never could quite give up on his family...that’s why he didn’t stay with the Al’ghuls. That why they didn’t keep him.

He could never forget you and Bruce. Move on.

He could never.

Jason was a strong lad. Strong enough to see past his hate and need of revenge. His pain. His deep trauma.

It took a while. But the change came from him. He’s the one that gave you another chance. And it allowed him to realize...nothing was a lie.

And you got your son back.

Because you showed him. You showed him nothing was a lie.

When his dad never gave up on him even as he killed more and more people, and even as Jason saw him completely erase people who used to be close from him as soon as they killed once. When you refused to let him go. When Bruce kept going back, even as he knew Jason would fight him and try to hurt him. When you pleaded with him, even when you knew his answer would be the same...

Jason never gave up.

But you didn’t either.

“You’re not my mom”, are words he never meant. Not even once. Not even when he was the “old” Red Hood, the one that killed mercilessly any criminals, and that was trying to be exactly what Batman wasn’t.

“You’re not my mom”, even at his worst, at a time he suffered greatly, Jason never meant it. He never did.

And ultimately, it’s this filial love, and the love you and Bruce had for him, that brought him back out of the dark pit the Joker pushed him in...

TIM

Tim knew that his overly pragmatic mind sometimes could make him sound tactless. That he had trouble, sometimes, expressing himself properly.

He knew that what he said, although it could be the factual truth, could be perceived as not being very nice...

He knew, yet sometimes, he couldn’t help himself.

“But you’re not my mom.”

He told you that day, as you asked when was the “mother/child day” at school.

Tim’s school had a day each year, during which every mother would come and do different activities with their kids. You did it with Dick and Jason, and it was always great fun, and amazing bonding time.

By then, Tim had been with you and Bruce for over a year now. And he did, see you as his mom. However, he was a little too set, at the time, on rules and specifics. In the “mother/child day” rulebook, it “specifically” said that the actual child’s mother had to come, not the nanny or anyone else.

In Tim’s mind, although he did see you as his mom, he thought the school wouldn’t. For him, the way the rules were written, were clearly stating his birth mother had to come. And the official adoption papers were not processed yet. Those took quite a while.

He had been living with you for over a year. He called you and Bruce “mom and dad”. He truly considered you two his parents. But the official papers were not done quite yet. So to him, in the eye of the law (be it a silly school rule), you weren’t his mom quite yet.

So when he said : “but you’re not my mom”, that’s what he meant. Of course, you misunderstood...

How could you guess that Tim was thinking that only his “birth mother” could take him, because officially right now he didn’t have a mom, just “guardians”...

His mother was dead. Has been dead for a while, now. And even if she wasn’t, Tim knew she’d never come at this event...She wasn’t the caring type of mother. Not like you. Which is why it really bummed him out that those rules were so clearly stated like that !

What Tim misunderstood, is that this specific rule had been added to the rulebook because many family would send their nanny, or a big sister, instead of the mom. Because Tim was of course in Gotham’s Academy, full of rich families, in which the moms were very busy...

Which is why such a day existed. Some kids spend quality times with their mom only on this school day. Nowadays, everyone made an effort to come (the fact you appeared, the famed (Y/N) Wayne, a few years back, with Dick, and it made all the papers’ headlines, might’ve influenced others to participate too).

To tell the truth, Tim was very disappointed that you couldn’t go with him, and was considering asking the principle of the school to do an exception to the rule and allow you to go with him.

He was already fomenting a plan in his head to convince the headmaster to let you come as his mom, and as usual when he was planning things out, he completely disconnected from reality.

And therefor, didn’t see how your face “closed”, and your eyes turned sad. The boy was typing away on his computer, as if nothing had just happened, as if you didn’t feel your world crumble as he flat out told you you weren’t his mom...

Of course, it was all a misunderstanding. He meant it as “officially”. Not about his actual feelings.

For some reason, the way he said it so nonchalantly hurts you more than when Dick and Jason yelled at you that you “weren't their mom”. Because at least, in your eldests’ cases, you knew it was in the heat of the moment.

That it was because they felt frustrated and sad.

But Tim just told you : “But you’re not my mom.” matter of factly, and moved on. And it hurt.

It hurt so much, because that boy...You loved that boy, of course. And considered him your son for sure. Part of your heart, now. Part of your family. And he felt so far, right now...so far...

You left the room and he didn’t even notice.

Did he really not see you as his mom ? Was he just calling you “mom” to imitate his brothers ? ...You didn’t know, but it hurt.

It hurt so much.

************

You found Bruce in his office, doing some paperworks for Wayne Inc. When he saw your face, he immediately smiled, your presence lighting his whole world...But then he saw your expression, and he frowned.

“What happened ?”

************

“Mom ? MooOOooom ?”

Tim had been looking for you for the past hour, but wasn’t able to find you. You weren't in all your favorite places ! Did you leave the Manor without telling him ? It was unlike you.

Finally, he found you. You were in a room that was rarely used, but which was conveniently close to Bruce’s office, and had a couch.

Laying on top of your husband, you were fast asleep as Bruce was going through his paperworks, letting you holding onto his waist as he kept working.

When he saw the boy come in the room, he smiled at him. And it was hard, not to smile at Tim, seeing his own big wide smile.

Tim was missing a few teeth, that fell not long ago, and it was absolutely the cutest, when he smiled widely. He looked so happy, eyes sparkly and genuine smile. It felt wrong to Bruce, to think that this sweet boy didn’t see you as his mom...

Maybe it was all a misunderstanding ? Wouldn’t be the first time. Although, Bruce knew how sometimes Tim could be brutally honest, and say the facts in a matter of factly way that could be very harsh on the uninitiated.

Your son was holding a cardboard sheet almost as big as him, and looked very excited about something. He slowly approached you two, and said, whispering, yet the excitement was clear in his voice :

“Has she been asleep for long, dad ?!”

He called Bruce dad. Without an hesitation. And it felt so genuine. Like he was relishing in the word rolling off of his tongue. And it was often the case, with Tim. His parents, when they were still alive, never really noticed his presence...

And sometimes, it could be even worst to have parents who acted as if you didn’t exist, than caring parents who passed away. Bruce realized this.

“No, she just closed her eyes.”

Bruce answers, looking at you. And oh he couldn’t possibly know how soft his expressions as as he gazed at your sleeping face.

“Oh...”

Tim was clearly disappointed. His shoulders fell down, and he looked on the floor, looking defeated.

“What is it, champ ?”

“Well, I wanted her to-Oh ! Mom !”

The rumbling of your husband’s chest as he spoke is what woke you up. Not the actual sound of their voices, just that low vibrations reverberating in his chest.

You opened one eye, then the second, and was greeted by your youngest son’s face being very close to you. As Tim saw you were waking up, he kneeled down next to the couch, settling his piece of cardboard next to him, and approached you very closely.

His smile and sweet expression filled your vision. And you felt even more hurt, as you saw him so happy to see you, to know he didn’t really think you were his mom.

It was clear he cared for you. And loved you, and being with you. But to him...You weren’t his mom. And that was so painful.

“I got a plan mom, I got a plan !”

A...Plan ? For what ? You don’t even have time to ask him, and, still a little hazy as you just woke up from a short nap (that you took after crying exhausted you), you raise a little from your husband.

You exchange a curious look with him, as you see Tim spring to his feet and get a hold of the piece of cardboard that is almost as tall and large as him.

He turns it around and...

Your heart drops.

It’s a lot of very detailed drawings, maps and words about...about...

“This is how we’re going to convince the headmaster of my school that you’re really my mom, even if officially you’re not yet !! I thought we could start with logic first, and then go down the path of pathos if he really doesn’t change his mind !”

What ? Your brain is trying really hard to comprehend what’s happening, although it is starting to put two and two together.

“The rules say that the mom HAS to be the one who comes, and the way they wrote it suggest that they wouldn’t accept someone who isn’t yet official. But I think we could convince that, in our heart, we’re already an official family, right ?!”

Tim looks at you, and then at his dad, a little worry in his eyes (what if for them, he wasn’t their son yet because the paperworks weren’t finished and officials quite yet ?!?!). Bruce cannot help but smile, and nods, feeling his heart melt (a rare occurrence).

And you. You have exactly the reaction he expected you’d have. You sit up, put the cardboard aside, and drag your son into a tight hug that makes him giggle and exclaim :

“Hahaha mom wait I can’t breaaaathe !! Mom !!”

But he hugs you back, knowing that this means yes, you do consider him your son already, paperworks or not, and you will probably follow his plan to convince the school to-

“Mom ? Why are you crying ? Mom ?”

You can’t explain it to him. You feel silly, but also so emotional and touched. You thought he didn’t think of you as his mom. But he did. Oh he did, and was actually worried about technicalities of rules and...So sweet. That boy is so sweet.

Carefully, Tim dries your tears, and look curiously at his dad, his eyes clearly asking : “Did I do something wrong ?”

You’re still unable to speak, as you hold onto him, and Bruce ruffles his son’s hair saying :

“She’s just too happy, champ. She’s just too happy.”

CASSANDRA

"You, not my mom !”

She screamed. You never heard Cass raised her voice before. And yet, here, she screamed at you. And then closed her bedroom door right on your nose.

And you felt it in your heart. That specific pain that you wished you’d never feel again. That kind of hurt you wished you’d never feel ever again.

It happened just liked it did with Dick and Jason. You were “lecturing” her about putting herself in needless danger, and she felt frustrated at the fact you “didn’t trust her”.

It wasn’t true of course. You did trust her. And you knew she could hold her own. Didn’t mean you wouldn’t worry, and scold her if she really scared you...

It was pure instinct. You couldn’t stop yourself from telling them off when you felt they went too far. You did it with Bruce too.

Once, he threw himself in the way of a bullet to save you, and once he recovered enough...Oh you were so mad at him.

It’s not that you wanted to take that bullet, of course. You knew it was also instinct that made him move to save you. But in truth, you would rather take a thousand bullet than lose any of them. Bruce, or your children.

And sometimes, it was hard for them to understand this. To get why you were so worried, when you accepted fully their night activities.

Why you monitored the batcomputer, if it was to scold them when they put themselves in danger ?

Ah but they didn’t understand that you only got “mad” when they put themselves in NEEDLESS danger. Pushing themselves too far that one night, being careless with something, ignoring their own safety to finish a task...

You couldn’t help but be afraid. And your fear turned into you scolding them. And sometimes, on each sides, things boiled and...

“You, not my mom !”

The meaning was clear. As Cass slammed her door right in your face, you knew not to push it further, not to tell her anything more.

Maybe you should’ve ? Should’ve open her door, and continue lecturing her so she’d understand her life was valuable ?

Cass put herself in danger more than any other member of your family, because she was raised as a weapon and thought of herself as an “expendable”. You weren’t mad at her for this, of course not (but oh, David Cain probably should never cross your path, it wasn’t pretty, when you were truly angry).

You were just worried. And unfortunately, being a parent was complicated and sometimes, your worry turned a little overbearing for your kids.

This was a mistake every normal caring parents made. Wanting what was best for their children, sometimes not realizing they’re going too far. And you ? Your family wasn’t normal.

Your children were vigilantes. Your worries were tuned up to the max.

Being a parent was hard. And sometimes, both you and your kids were frustrated. It happened. In any family.

It was resolved rather fast, most of the time. A little conversation, understanding and indulgence, and boom. Sorted.

However, there were times when things would go a little too far. Wether because one of you was tired, or didn’t feel well etc etc...

Tonight, was such a time.

“You, not my mom !”

Cass didn’t even register what she said. She was just mad and frustrated, and said the first thing that came into her mind. Her hand slammed the door shut before she could even think about it.

And here you were. In the corridor. In front of your daughter’s door.

Hurt. And feeling as devastated as you did when her brothers told you the same thing. You would think, after a few times of this happening, it’d be easier, right ? Well. No. It wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

As usual in those instances, you went to seek comfort in the arms of your husband.

************

Cassandra didn’t feel ok.

In fact, she felt absolutely terrible.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she felt that bad.

When she went to look for you and apologize for her behavior, she found you in her dad’s arms, crying, and it made her run away...

She couldn’t face you, knowing she truly hurt you like that.

The worst thing is, she knew she would hurt you by saying those words. Yet she still did it. It was as if she couldn’t control herself. It was like an ugly force took over her, and made her say those words.

But she knew. She knew she’s the one who ultimately decided to say them. She’s the one that pronounced them. Under the anger.

Anger.

The ugly force.

She turned around in her bed, holding onto the plush toy you gave her shortly after her arrival. You said “every child should have one” and that this one made you think of her.

It was a fox with bright colors. And it still smelled like you.

She was about to fall asleep, when she heard a knock on her door.

“Can we come in ?”

It was her older brothers.

Dick, Jason and Tim.

It was rare, to have them all in the same place nowadays, what with how busy they all were. Dick with Bludhäven, Jason with the gods only knew what really (the gods, and you and Bruce...but sshhh, that’s a secret), and Tim with college applications.

So Cass immediately understood that they heard about the fight she had with their mom.

And she felt a rush of shame come over her. She felt sad too, because maybe they’d be mad at her ?

Cassandra didn’t think she could bear to break your heart, and have her precious brothers mad at her all in the same day.

She almost told them to leave. But she didn’t have the strength.

They surrounded her, and their presence was so...soothing.

And then they spoke. They each told her the story of the time they told their mom those few dreaded words.

“You’re not my real mom !”

They told her how awful they felt, and how they knew they hurt their mom. They told her that...well, they did have the best mom ever.

You never held any grudge. Ever. Especially not against your own family.

You never even mentioned again the fact they told you this awful thing, you never even mentioned once this, under any circumstances.

Her brothers stayed with her for hours, talking about their feelings on the matter. Telling her it happened. That everyone wasn’t always on their best behavior...

It was hard, for Cass, to not be “good”. She did so many awful things when her biological father raised her to be a weapon, she felt like she had to catch up so much on those years of “badness”.

She often felt like she was evil, and could never caught up to everything. Like she was doomed, and could never become good.

On that, Jason told her she was wrong. That everyone could change, and no one was born truly evil. Environment, and the way you’re raised, matter. And what she did...wasn’t her fault. She was forced to. If she really enjoyed doing this she’d never become a Batgirl. She would never be part of this family.

She often felt like she was a bad daughter.

On that, Dick told her she was wrong. He too, felt like a bad son, when he “replaced” his parents with you and Bruce. He too, felt like a bad son when he would get so mad while you would do anything to make him happy. He too, felt like a bad son...on so many occasions. But he grew. And thanks to you mainly, he realized he was just human. Mistakes are human. And it’s not being a bad son, to sometimes feel so hurt that you lash out. That your trauma are so strong, things sometimes are tough.

She often felt like she couldn’t fit in, and would never fit in.

On that, Tim told her she was wrong. Him too, felt too different. He already had parents, they were alive, he just wanted to help, he didn’t have any friends...But in this family. In this family, everyone fitted in. Because you made it so. Bruce made it saw. You both accepted any flaws, and differences your kids might have. You loved them unconditionally, they all knew that by now.

And Cass...Cass didn’t want to hurt you.

They knew that, too.

It was an accident. In the heat of the moment. She didn’t mean it. Of course, you are her mom. Of course...

It felt good, to have her brothers there for her, when you couldn’t be.

************

Later that night, after her brothers left, Cass slowly exits her room and take the known way to yours and Bruce’s.

You are both there, and she knows her dad stayed because you felt bad. He always stayed with you, when you were feeling down. And vice versa.

Cass always told herself that, later, if she ever found a significant other, she’d want her and them to have the same kind of relationships than you. You and Bruce set up a rather high standard for whoever would come into her life.

But that was another story. For now, she was opening the door slowly, scared of waking you up. But you were awake.

Bruce was asleep, deeply. As usual when he felt your warmth against him. But you were not. Cass could see you slowly and absentmindedly caress your husband’s hair. It was soothing to both of you. His silky smooth dark hair were soft in between your fingers, and helped you get your mind off of the pain and focus on the sensation, while for him...Well, it put him asleep, when you did that.

The door creaked a little, and you abruptly turned your head towards it, ready to fight and...You instantly recognize your daughter, even in the dark of the room.

She doesn’t need to talk. You manage to roll over Bruce, who then by instinct roll too, and therefor you create a little spot for your daughter to climb in bed with you.

You turn around in Bruce’s arms, and slowly wrap them around your middle, instead of your shoulders. You turn towards Cass, your back against Bruce’s chest, and tap the small spot you managed to create next to you.

Cass understands, and climbs in, facing you. She lays her head on her arms, as you do the same. And then she mouthes :

“Sorry mom...”

And that’s all you needed. You gesture for your daughter to cuddle up close, and she does. By instinct, Bruce lets go one arm off of you, and grabs his kid to bring her closer. He is still asleep, but it wouldn’t surprise anyone that his subconscious holds onto the two most important women in his life like so.

And there she is. Cass feels safe. And warm. And she hears your heart beat softly. And she knows it partly beats for her.

And partly for Bruce. And partly for Dick. And partly for Jason. And Tim. And Damian. And Duke. And Alfred.

It beats for your family.

For her family.

Family.

She has a family.

And you are her mom.

Her biological father never hugged her, never told her everything was going to be alright, never...

Cass never felt safe and warm.

Like she did, right now, held by both you and Bruce.

“Family...”

She whispers, as she slowly falls asleep. And you’re the only mom she ever wants to have. You are, her real mom. Always have been, always will be.

DAMIAN

Damian didn’t really think this was a big deal, at first.

Just like his father, he often made the mistake to think that people around him will simply understand his true meaning.

When he told you : “You’re not even my real mom !”, he obviously didn’t mean it. He was angry because you told him he couldn’t go out on patrol for a few days, as he was grounded for skipping school and going to work on cases instead.

“But school is boring, I already know everything ??”

“It’s the principle of it, Damian. You can’t just do what you want whenever you want, this is not how it works. I don’t feel like we’re extremely strict parents, so when you betray our trusts like that, it has consequences.”

Bruce kept out of the argument, ready to jump in however if you needed him to affirm that yes, actions have consequences and although you two are pretty lax with your son on many fronts, he still has to listen. You and Bruce made clear rules when you first adopted Dick, because you realized your lifestyle was anything but normal, but it didn’t mean your children could just do anything they wanted.

Neither of you wanted them to turn into privileged little brats. Or to think they were above everything. And you were right, by skipping school so much, and lying about it, Damian did betray your trust.

Understanding actions had consequences was a big step that took a while, with Damian. Unfortunately, he grew up in an environment that indeed taught him he could do whatever he wanted, no matter if he hurt people on the way...

Unlearning all this, was tough. And you understood that. Which is why you let things go a lot, with him, and only slowly told him about things. Gradually teaching him about your values and principles.

However sometimes, like in this case, you needed to be firm and strict, because otherwise he’d just keep doing it knowing it had no bad consequences, and you didn’t want him to simply not go to school anymore...School was important for his social development, you realized it as he made friends and...

And simply, an eleven years old kid couldn’t just roam around all day as he saw fit. That’s it. And so here you were, trying to explain this to him. And that’s when he said it.

He scrunched up his nose like he always did when he was angry, and then, turning his head away from you, throwing his Robin boots at the back of the cave.

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not even my real mom !”

And then he bolted out of the Batcave, leaving you behind, with a broken heart and feeling guilty...What if he hates you, because you were too harsh on him ?

Bruce, that night, did not go out on patrol either, and stayed with you. Of course, he did.

************

The fact he still listened to you and didn’t go out, made him thought you knew he was just angry and didn’t mean a word of it.

To him, it was so obvious he thought of you as his mom, and that he said this just because he wanted to have the last word, that he honestly didn’t think much of it.

Sure he was frustrated and angry, just like any kid was when their parents said : “no” to them. But he didn't mean it...

He didn’t really see you of the entire day. Finally, he decided to go see his father to ask him what was up.

“Father ?”

“Yes ?”

“Is-is mom ok ?”

“Well, what do you think ?”

“She doesn’t seem ok.”

“Do you know why ?”

“Did you do something to upset her ?”

Normally, Bruce would feel vex at this statement. What, did he really do things to upset you that often ? Yes and now. Sometimes, he would get on your nerve, and vice versa. It happened, in relationships.

But it was never anything major. Not anymore at least. Because now, when he had his “dark days” and could be a total jerk, you knew how to handle him. You knew not to take his bullshit.

Yes. Normally, Bruce would pout like a child, at the fact his son thought that his mom was feeling down because of him. But not today. No.

Because he knew that what made you sad, was something important.

Unfortunately, Damian inherited from him his bad habit of thinking others will understand his meaning.

Like, when he tried to push you away at first so you wouldn't get involved in his crazy life, what he really wanted was for you to get closer...Or when he told you that he was fine at times, all he wanted was for you to hold him and take care of him etc etc...The first time he told you “I love you”, wasn’t with words, but by not going on patrol one night, to stay with you. And he thought you’d immediately understand that he truly loved you...Truth was, it wasn’t as obvious to you (or anyone really) than it was for him.

And Damian had the same problem. Doing things that he thought would obviously tell his meaning, his real feelings, when really...No one but him would get it.

Although you became quite good at deciphering your husband’s true intentions, you could still misinterpret things sometimes.

And yesterday night, when you grounded your son and tried to teach him a life lesson...You definitely didn’t see that he didn’t mean what he said and just wanted the last word. For you, he was seriously meaning it. And that’s why you were avoiding him a little, because it was too hard to...to...

Damian’s words truly hurt you. You often were scared he could never see you as his mom (even if he did call you mom now and clearly cared for you) because of how he grew up. You’d never give up on him, of course, but it didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt when he pushed you away or pretended to not care...

Damian thought it was obvious, that his actions actually reflected how much you meant to him. That without you, he’d be lost and honestly wouldn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t.

But it wasn’t obvious.

Bruce sighed, and then smiled :

“Since when is she acting odd ?”

“This morning. She didn’t kiss me goodbye when she went to work !”

It felt like such a serious issue to your boy, in that instant, that Bruce wished you were there to see his reaction. You’d instantly know he didn’t mean it, when he said you weren’t his mom...

But you couldn’t quite face him. You didn’t really avoid him or try to hurt him by not saying goodbye. Of course not, you were an adult, and you definitely knew that doing to others what was done to you is pointless, and mean. And why hurt someone the same way they hurt you ? You’re no better than them uh...

“Can you think of anything that might’ve upset her ?”

“I spilled my milk a little, but cleaned it after. I didn’t let Alfred do it like last time. I woke up a minute late, too. Jason hasn’t called in two days, but he was there yesterday afternoon. Dick said she messed up her pumpkin soup but he was just joking and she knows. Tim fell asleep at the breakfast table. You clinging to her this morning apparently made her late, I heard Alfred say it. Um...Cass um...Cass didn’t do anything bad really...None of those things sound like it would upset her though ! She really looked sad this morning, not like herself at all !”

Bruce couldn’t help but smile. It was pretty cute, how Damian often acted as if he didn’t care about anything, yet no details would ever go past him. Especially not when it came to his family. He always noticed, when one of them felt down in any way, and tried to help (in his own way).

Hell, he probably woke Tim up and told him to sleep more and take care of himself. Called Jason and told him to call his mom. Scolded Dick to not make this kind of jokes again.

This was just the Damian that was privy only to them. A sweet child, who unfortunately often had trouble expressing his true feelings.

Just like his father.

Damian would often brag about his siblings, and how awesome they were, to his friends (notably to Jon, who didn’t have any siblings). But he’d never tell them right in front of their face.

Bruce tried to help Damian see what was wrong, and said :

“What about last night ?”

“Ugh ? What about last n-OH !”

Damian replayed the events in his head, and remembered his anger and frustration. But most importantly...What he told his mom.

“I have to find mom ! Where is she ?!”

Damian looked absolutely panicked, which was quite unlike him. Bruce answered :

“She’s at work, she had a meeting with her editor. She should be back soon, though.”

And on that note, Damian ran out to do god knew what, as Bruce shook his head and...Well, he just knew things would turn out alright.

************

Alfred almost fainted, when he saw Damian tear off his beautiful flowers from his garden. He almost ran out, and had a very “get off my lawn !” moment...up until he realized that the boy was probably doing this for a reason.

Oh. Oh his poor lilies.

Hopefully, this really was for a good reason. A very good one. One so good, that it would stop him from strangling his grandkid, hopefully...

************

When you came home, Damian was waiting for you at the front door. He had a bunch of lilies in his hands (that you were pretty sure were from Alfred’s precious garden) and he looked absolutely frantic.

He ran to you, almost threw the flowers in your arms, and yelled :

“I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN IT !! YOU ARE MY REAL MOM ! I WAS JUST ANGRY ! I’M SORRY !!”

You were a little confused as to why he was yelling, but before you could continue he took a drawing out of his pocket and added :

“THIS IS A DRAWING OF YOU ! I MADE IT FOR YOU !! YOU ARE MY MOM ! YOU REALLY ARE ! PLEASE FORGIVE ME !! I’M SORRY !! DO NOT BE MAD AT ME !!”

Still confused as to why he was screaming, you bend down to look at him eye level, settled the flowers on the floor, and said :

“It’s ok Damian. It’s ok. We all get frustrated sometimes...I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt, but it’s ok. It happens.”

Damian’s face showed great relief, and he leaped into your arms, yelling :

“I LOVE YOU !!”

You winced as he screamed in your ear, and said :

“Why are you yelling, little one ?”

Damian took a step back from you and said :

“BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF AND JASON TOLD ME THAT SAYING THINGS IN AN AGGRESSIVE WAY MIGHT HELP !! AND HE’S RIGHT !! I LOVE YOU !!”

Damian told you he loved you before, in certain moments. When he got really hurt, when you were really hurt, if he felt really sad...It was always a moment full of emotions. And it was still rather hard for him to say the words.

It didn’t really surprise you that Jason would have such a technique. Yelling his feelings. Yep. Sounds like him alright. And it did seem like it worked for his little brother too.

Only you and your close family would know, because you were the only ones to truly know him, but those two were more similar than others would think. And it wasn’t because they already killed before. Oh no. On the contrary.

“I love you too, my little one...”

You say, as he goes back for another hug, clearly relieved you’re not mad at him. From this day on, he swore to himself that he would really try to tell others’ what he truly felt, even if it meant yelling it at them. Because other wise...otherwise it’d create this sort of terrible situations, in which his mom thought he didn’t think of her as his mom !

He couldn’t have it, anymore. Many “I LOVE YOU !!” were heard in the Manor, from that point on.

DUKE

“You know you can tell me anything, right ?”

Duke doesn’t know why this time, this made him snap.

Today was the anniversary of when his parents got “jokerize”, it had been two years already...And not one step closer to cure them ! He was so frustrated, sad, and lost. And you noticed.

Duke tend to try to keep things inside. Not that he didn’t want to bother anyone, more like he just thought he HAD to handle things himself. Like it would make him stronger, and therefor, he could protect those he cares about.

He could protect them, unlike when he could do nothing but watch as his parents fell into madness...He couldn’t bear the thought of this happening to you, Bruce, or any member of this family ! Not again.

He couldn’t bear it...

“You’re not even my mom ! Stop acting like you are !”

Are the words he heard himself scream at you as you asked him if everything was ok, and if he needed to talk. As you were caring, once again, and he just couldn’t...he couldn’t stand it ! Not today.

Not today.

He immediately saw on your face the way you shut down, and took one step behind. The way your face “closed”, and as you said : “I understand.” and left the room, your body stiff and your face inexpressive (which was very unlike you), Duke felt it.

The guilt.

Right away.

When those dreaded words were said by all your other kids, they were young. They were all under the age of ten, and the immediate consequences of their actions didn’t truly registered.

But Duke.

Duke was almost eighteen. And he knew. He knew he hurt you.

He felt the need to run after you and apologized, but there was something stopping him.

After all, it was true right, you weren’t his mom ! His mom was still alive, and she could be cured one day ! HE ALREADY HAVE A MOM !

So what if you always cooked him his favorite meal, or knew exactly what his favorite food was ? So what if you would go out of your way to grab his favorite burger from his favorite joints when you knew he felt down ?

So what, if you were always there when he was sad ? Cheering him up with comfort food, kind words, and just your presence ?

So what if you knew exactly what would make him feel better, which movie to put on to put a smile on his face ?

So what, if you spend entire night right by his bedside when he got really hurt, or when he was sick ?

So what if you’d listen to him at any time of the day or night, and always took time to give him your thoughts on the matter, and truly, truly listen to what he was saying instead of waiting for your turn to speak ?

So what if you’d make him laugh, smile, feel loved, even as he felt so alone and isolated, especially after he discovered his powers ?

So what if you never made him feel like he was different because of it ?

So what if you opened your house’s door without a second thought for this unknown teenager who was also a meta ?!

So what...so what...so what if you obviously cared a lot, and if you...if you...

He already had a mom. And she might get better one day.

He couldn’t have two moms.

...

Right ?

What would happen when his parents would be cured ? Forget all his feelings for the Waynes ? So it’d be easier to pretend he wasn’t part of the family, right ?

It would be easier.

Yes.

But it was too late.

It was too late...

He ran after you. Caught up with you in the corridor. Tears in his eyes, he said :

“I’m sorry, please don’t go...”

And fell into your arms. Almost eighteen years old, yes, but still needed the support of a mother. Of his mother.

And you were there. You’d always be there, no matter what happened in the future. And he needed you, especially in that moment of frustration, where he really missed his parents, and was starting to lose hope to ever find a cure...

And you were there.

Who ever made a rule that you could have only one mom anyway, right ?

BRUCE

They did tell him “you’re not my dad !” too. And for him, it was as terrible as for you. If not worst, on certain aspect. Especially since he had a hard times truly expressing his feelings more often than not.

He knows how devastating it can feel. He knows it even more, because not only did he feel it as they told him “you’re not my dad !”, but he also felt it as he told Alfred “you’re not my dad !”. He knew the feelings from both sides.

It enhanced everything.

Of course, in general, Bruce always felt things more than anyone else around him. He was born like that. Hypersensitive. That’s why he worked so much on hiding his true feelings, and appearing detached and cold.

It’s much easier, than to always being overemotional. Of course, it didn’t mean he felt nothing. On the contrary, he felt everything. He was just better, nowadays, at pretending he was okay. At pretending he didn’t care.

Ah. But you existed.

You.

The only person that could always see through his bullshit, and know when he was lying and fake smiling.

Between the two of you, there has always been something. Even before you were together. It was an irrational and irresistible attraction.

An unbreakable bond. Always supporting each others.

You have no idea how you’d live without him. And he couldn’t even fathom a world without you. It’s a world he wouldn’t like very much...

Even during the worst times, and oh you went through a lot together, you knew at least...at least you’d have warm arms to fall asleep in. At least, you’d have each others.

Bruce had known pain so strong he sometimes wished death would just take him away. And then you came in. Ready to put up with his shit, and to not give up on him even when he gave you every reason to.

And oh, oh he gave you back everything times a thousand. You knew he’d never let you fall. Not alone.

Whenever something hurtful as your children telling you two you weren’t their real parents happened...It’s when you truly realized how vital you were to each others.

When you fell, Bruce was there to catch you.

When he fell, you were there to catch him.

Better to fall together, than to stand alone.

__________________________________________________

And here we are :). I hope you liked it ? Don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback and reblog if you want to ^^. I’m a little afraid I disappointed y’all for some reasons haha. I couldn’t explain. Self-confidence crisis hahaha. I finished writing that late, and exhausted after a hard week, maybe it plays into account ? Anyway, I really do hope you enjoyed your time reading this :). And thanks for reading, of course ^^.

7K notes · View notes

ohmysparkle · 3 years

Text

🎀 Plush Baby 🎀

[Pairing] Minho (Stray Kids) x chubby Reader

[Genre] Smut

[Word Count] 4.4K

[Warnings] NSFW, smut, body insecurities

[NSFW Content] Vanilla sex, raw sex, soft soft soft (male) domination, PIV, oral (fem. receiving), body worship.

[Note] This piece was originally posted on my old account as a request. It has been edited and rewritten.

Also, I like my girls how I like my cats: soft, purring, jiggly. Just sleeping all day, occasionally meowing, being cute.

[Edit - Note 2] I remember the original request asking for a chubby reader, and my reply was that I hoped that all of my writing as inclusive enough that any reader could feel themselves represented in that scenario. I know we all have drastically different physical characteristics - but we are all beautiful. The tiny, fit little waist on one girl is as beautiful and sensual as the soft, plush and pillowy belly of another. We can all be recognized as beautiful and sexy and desired - and we should feel that way. But I wrote (and rewrote) this request with extra care because I wanted to shower some love on all chubby, full figured, plus, fat, curvy readers and I hope I do some justice to your beautiful bodies. 💕

🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀

You’re laying on his bed, in nothing but a set of plain undies. The white panties are so thin he feels he can almost make out the delicate folds that decorate your vulva, and if you only spread them a little further he’d be so proud if he saw a little wet and sticky stain on them, making them stick to your skin. Your hands are gripping each other, as you try to sink yourself onto the bed, somehow shielding yourself in your shyness, but all it does is force your arms to push your breasts together. He sighs in delight as he takes in your body, every curve, every soft fold and pocket of flesh, every supple crest.

A soft and warm, plush goddess before his eyes, on his bed, just at his fingertips…

He’s been dreaming of the day he’d be able to see you like this, and he’s been coaxing you day by day; making sure you’re comfortable with him, letting you know he thinks you’re beautiful, assuring you that any intimacy with him would be about your pleasure and his efforts to lay all his love on you.

His kisses were always more than just kisses, he’d do everything to reassure you, let you know how he felt. Every profession of how beautiful he found you was deep and genuine - and sometimes he felt like he was healing a precious little wounded animal that had been scarred by the cruel words of past lovers.

You’ve been shy, and insecure. He understands, but it breaks his heart a little because he just wants you to bask in confidence and find yourself as beautiful as he does. If only you could see yourself with his eyes, he thinks…

If only you could understand the desire he feels… from the moment he saw you. Your cute rounded cheeks, expressive and squishy. The beautiful way your thighs would move as you walked, his eyes traveling up whatever skirt you wore, thinking about the plush and bouncy bum underneath. How your breasts spilled so beautiful when you moved around, especially when you lay on your back and your cleavage would become so accentuated in any top you wore. The softness at your waist, supple and warm… he couldn’t resist pinching at a little pocket of fat in your back or your hip whenever he hugged you, despite you hating it at first, thinking he was teasing you.

But he wasn’t… he wouldn’t tease you in that way. He’s only tease you in a loving and playful manner. If only you could understand how pretty you were in his eyes.

It has taken time, for him to chip away at your walls. Sometimes he got carried away in you, wanting to use all of his tricks to have you wet and weakened to his whim, because the thought of touching, kissing, fucking you was too much. He’d impatiently shiver at the thought alone.

But it wasn’t just about what he wanted - because he wouldn’t want it if you didn’t, and he wouldn’t enjoy it unless you did twice as much. He could see something, hesitation, or fear perhaps, always lingering behind your eyes. He knows how you sometimes shielded those insecurities with smiles, but your body would freeze and tense…

So many things you needed time to heal. Every glance from a stranger toward him and you would have you second guessing, or when a girl would try to flirt with him you’d be completely dejected. And he’s kiss it all away, drown your thoughts out with soft words. Again and again, no matter how many times. It would tire anyone out.

He’s been so patient, he’s always patient for you. Gladly, happily patient. He knows when to let you take the lead and set the pace, or when you need him to encourage you and guide you. And now, to finally have you here on his bed, body laying beneath his… well, the months long effort has borne fruits.

He sits beside you, looking down at you, lost in admiration. He’s eating you up with his eyes, staring down at every curve and dip along your body. You don’t know if it’s good or bad, and your hands are bunched up, tense against your chest as your chin rests over them. He worries you’re feeling doubtful, but for a moment his eyes are lost in your figure and he doesn’t notice. From some angles, his eyes seem so sharp and intimidating, but the feeling in them is tender and comforting, just like the look of worry he casts you once he notices your tension.

Minho gently takes your hands in his, separating their tight grip and kiss omg the knuckles on each one before guiding each area to rest at your side.

“Just relax, baby girl…” he hushes. His voice… you feel it make you shiver, running deep within you. It’s deep, soothing, almost like a purr - but he’s so much less harmless than those kitties he loves… It’s a mix between being stalked by a predator, making you feel small and fearful, and being comforted and lulled by a strong presence that blankets you.

You try relax, and tense little huffs of breath leave you. He knows you’re having a hard time so he decides to reassure you one last time before asking if you want to continue.

“Baby girl…” he whispers after leaning closer to you, clicking his tongue, the tip of his nose almost brushing your temple, “you’re beautiful, I adore you, and I think everything about you is beautiful. I’m going to treat you like a princess and I promise I’ll make you feel good, but we won’t do that if you’re not comfortable first, ok?”

You gulp and nod, and the next deep breath you take does dissolve tension a bit. Your mind is made up, you’re absolutely sure, but still you feel the slightest bit afraid to say so… Minho is so, so, perfect, and protective and doting. You logically know he won’t do anything wrong, that he’d never hurt you - so why are you so terrified of all of this?

“I want to. Just… slowly, ok?” You finally say, and he smiles at you with pride - pride in you for being comfortable with the prospect of intimacy, and your trust in him. Pride in himself knowing he’s made you comfortable… it makes you smile too.

Minho begins as he had always dreamed of doing with you. His fingers dance with anticipation before he dares dip them against your flesh. He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead before commencing to roam his hands all over your body.

He gently grips the flesh of your thighs and hips, while leaning down to kiss the tops of your breasts as the spill out from the cups of your bra. You begin to sigh and sink in relaxation. He lets his palms lightly glide over the skin, feeling so soft and powdery, your hairs there velvety, peach-like…

“So beautiful baby, so soft, you feel perfect…” he says with a pinching squeeze of the mound of flesh at your waist that pokes out from the waistband of your underwear. It makes you whine a little bit he rubs it with the heat in his palm to soothe the sting. It’s with these little pains, the pinches, the digging of his fingers into your mounds of plumpness, and then the soft massages and tender touches, that he gets you to melt.

Your legs seem to naturally spread for him, and now his free hand roams between the softness of your inner thighs. Now, that by far, was the tenderest thing he had ever touched, and to think he’d soon be burying himself within them… He kneads them, enjoying the jiggly feeling of them in his hands and how perfectly his finger dug into the almost powdery flesh. So, so soft. Handfuls of supple, warm and jiggly fat for him to feel and play with. He looks at how he moves your flesh about, how voluptuous and sensual it all looks…

You deserve a kiss there, he thinks. You can’t deny that he’s relaxed you to such a point that your body melds in accordance to his manipulation. Your legs spread and he grunts a bit at the warmth that radiates off of you and the slight scent of your arousal through your panties. He digs his face into one of your thighs, nudging it, until he latches his lips on to a particularly soft nook of flesh and sucks. The hiss that leaves you makes his cock twitch, and he’s in awe at how well your thigh mends against his mouth as he sucks, and how sweet your skin tastes when he runs his tongue over it.

How is it possible that this plush, voluptuous angel belongs to him? He is drunk on the kisses and sucks and licks that he gives to that one thigh, and when you begin to shake him off one leg, he moves on to the other. He wants to keep kissing, but he also just wants to melt into you, your pillowy figure being too perfect for him.

At some point, his hands begin to travel back upwards, and he hooks his fingers under your high waisted underwear to slip them down to your hips, leaving your cunt clothed but exposing your tummy. Minho begins to grope at the flesh there, massaging and munching it together, pressing his hands into every inch of your skin, and he’s looking down at you.

It’s ticklish, or maybe you feel it tickles because you’re nervous, or because that’s a part of yourself you’ve always thought should be covered or avoided, left completely unacknowledged despite its exposure. Yet Minho… his eyes, the way he touched you; it all showed genuine love and arousal.

You had feared this moment for so long, but you didn’t feel scared now. Not with the way he was looking at you and touching you, not with the way he was making you feel; beautiful, sexy, attractive. It’s what you were, and he felt that way too. He grabs at your waist, digging his hands roughly into the mounds in your abdomen and he presses his entire body against you. Slowly, Minho leans down for a kiss to your pretty lips as he grinds against one of your thighs.

“My sweet girl… please tell me you want us to keep going… please.” He begs.

“Yes.” Is all you can reply after rewarding his mouth with your whimpers.

Minho leans back on his thighs as he tore his shirt off, providing you with the sight of his defined torso. Chiseled, sharp, masculine - not a line of softness in him. The two of you are exact opposites and it makes it all the better for how your two figures complement the touch and feeling of the other. He dives back in, kissing along your soft belly, up towards your bra and between your breast, until finally he’s back at your mouth. His body lays on you, and while you feel firm and detailed flesh, he relishes in the plushness of your body and how it seems to embrace him. He rubs his own pecs over the lace of your bra, stimulating his pretty brown nipples, and he groans into your mouth. Your response is to roll your hips upward, against the erection that’s growing inside of his sweatpants.

“Minho, I want you - anything, I can’t wait anymore…” you plead while pushing him off. You begin to take your bra off, and he removes his pants and briefs in one go, revealing his hardening cock under a tuft of trimmed dark hair. You’re desperate now, and confident too, and you lay back to peel your own underwear off.

Fuck, the way you cunt is nestled between your plump thighs and soft abdomen, your lips peaking from your protruding vulva. His mouth is watering, and despite his reservations about being gentle and not startling you, he’s quick to grab your ankles and press your legs apart so he can burry is face in your pussy. He doesn’t have an ounce of control left because the sight of you has made him but a stupid animal.

He presses a firm kiss to your musky and moistened lips, inhaling sharply at that scent he’s sure would drive any man to the point of insanity. They’re just slightly tacky and they stick to his lips in the most pleasant way until the fluids of your arousal start to spread about and mix with his saliva, making everything glide more easily. He’s moaning and grunting against you and it makes you feel so aroused that you feel yourself pulsating within. He licks your lips, lathering them up with his saliva, he sucks at your clit.

Long strokes of his tongue run over your labia, his hands massage the outer sides of your vulva too, until he uses them to slightly spread your pussy, so his tongue more easily glides between your lips. The workings of his hand, massaging you around your vulva leaves you in awe to how sensitive every part of you was - something you likely wouldn’t have discovered without an expert and generous lover like Minho.

And then it all centers at the little sucks and nibs to your lips that tease you, and the way he stimulates your clitoris with his muscle to make your entire body jolt.

A finger expertly slips its way inside, and he keeps his hand facing downward, so the underside of his finger stimulates a different part of your walls that you wouldn’t even think of touching on your own. He twists them about, letting the little joints in his fingers circle every part of your cunt, exploring and pleasing everything. He begins to finger you with determination and it’s just not enough. You need more. Still, his mouth on your mound feels so good, and he tears away to slobber all over your vulva and leave your lips soaked and glistening. You can feel his drool dripping between your thighs and down your slit toward your ass.. Never had a man done this to you like this, and Minho had no restraint, he was proudly pleasing you with his mouth, devouring you like an animal, shamelessly soiling you with a mix of your fluids and his own spit.

“Minho!” You whine, and he knows what it means. Fuck, he nearly wants to bite into you until your screaming and squirting…

He pulls you by your hips and raises your thighs back, so that the lower part of you cunt is slightly more exposed. With his palms supporting your thighs, his thumbs inch toward your labia to spread you open. You hold your legs up by your ankles to make it easier for him, but you almost kick them away when you feel his tongue prod at your hole.

He presses his face harder and harder against your fleshy cunt, making sure his tongue gets in as deep as possible. He finds you’re full of slick and thick nectar that tastes heavenly and filthy on his tongue, and he juggles the muscle in his mouth as best as he can within your hole. You whine and cry and clench but it’s not far enough inside, not even with his finger rubbing at your clit so fiercely.

If only he could go deeper. This isn’t enough for him either.

“I need to be in you now doll, please.” He was getting ready, expecting your answer to be a yes.

“Damn it - yes!” You whine, feeling desperate all over with a sensation you couldn’t shake that you felt made you churn with uneasiness. You needed him to fill you, and it was causing near hysteria.

Minho doesn’t care about delicacy now. He slips his cock in and slams it. You’re wet enough, horny enough, and damn it but your swollen and wet pussy looks so damn fuckable that he knows its aching for his cock. You cry in agony and ecstasy, it stings and burns at a certain point where his fingers did not reach you before, but it also feels so fucking good because his fat and solid cock hits the right spots inside of you in the first thrust.

“Fuck…” you cry, trying to force your thighs together in discomfort. He hushes you and lowers himself to your face, resting his weight on his elbows and resting his abdomen against your supple tummy, his hips force your legs open still.

“Sorry, my baby girl,” he says kissing your face, panting in his own despair, “I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t thinking…” as he whines your arms wrap around him and your legs begin to hook onto his. You feel like your melting against him and he against you, and it causes you to roll your hips back and forth against his, slowly, and with your bodies firmly pressed together.

You’d make it seem like it hurt even more just to have him dote on you and treat you so preciously. It made something inside of you swoon to think that you’re almost delicate in his embrace, how the very thing that brings you pleasure can also hurt because the entire act is so vulnerating.

You whine at the feeling, and he takes the cue to roll against you. You feel his pelvis rub against your clit, his bush tickling at your bare cunt. The stroke and glide of him inside of your sends shivers throughout you, and you can feel him making contact with every ridge and grove of your wet cavern. Still, a little stretch lingers because that massive cock of his is incomparable to anything that’s been inside of you before.

The pain is good, it makes everything sharper. It’s like the little sting of a blade, and the pleasure like a stream of water to soothe it. You’re drunk in it, completely overwhelmed and mindless. The only thing tethering you to the earth itself is the feeling of his body in your arms, you clinging to him, and him clinging onto you.

He’s kissing all over your face, and when he needs to catch his breath he rests his forehead against yours. Your grasping desperately to scratch his back, shoulders and biceps, and finally you pull at his hair.

You feel the need for more of him, more harshly, you whine more desperately and you tense after each breath, he can tell. He pulls back, tearing your hands from his scalp and he pulls out of you, making you twitch and clench at the emptiness he’s suddenly left behind and you audibly weep at the sensation.

“Minho!” You cry as you raise yourself on your arms to see him glistening with sweat, and his proud cock drenched with globs of your fluids.

“Not yet, baby girl… Let me, just relax.” Trust me, he seems to say.

You’re whining and pressing your legs together but he tears them open by the knees and blows against your clit. It felt awful, driving your desperation further, making you want more and more, which he was cruelly denying you. You want to cry, it seems like the only outlet for such an onslaught of unnamable emotions.

The sight of a tear trailing down your damp and pretty face is enough to make him coo… his sensitive, pretty girl, so precious…

“I want to fuck you another way now, baby, it’ll be so good…” He growls, voice deep, but still desperate, still seeking permission. You know you’ll say yes. “Get on all fours, doll.”

You obey, shyly. His strong arms don’t leave you, guiding you, making sure you are in the right position. It makes you feel exposed, vulnerable, and you can feel him prowling behind you, but his warmth still comforts and envelops you. You arch your back as best as you can to look good and he appreciates it - a lot.

He grabs each cheek of your ass, groping the flesh to expose your sopping cunt. He groans at the sight, like an animal. Your wet and slick with sweat all over, glistening for him, letting his hands slide all over your ass and back. With a quick smack to your ass he alerts you, You yelp. And once more, the sting is soothed by a kiss, a tender hand kneading that spot he just abused.

He travels up your spine, his body brushing against yours, and you can feel his hands at your shoulders, his breath on your neck. With a soft kiss, he presses you down and soon he pushes you onto the mattress, your hips still held up by your legs.

You can feel him groping you all over, leaving searing and wet kisses along your spine. You’re desperate and your hips wiggle in desperation.

“Minho….”

“Not long now, baby doll. I promise.” He says tenderly.

He keeps one hand at your hip as he pumps himself, and guides his head back between your folds, whimpering loudly, so unlike how he has kept his demeanor. How is it possible for such a sensation to exist? That perfect moment where your soft lips suck the head of his cock and guide them into your tightening walls, so wet and comforting, stimulating every inch of him.

He can’t help himself, again, lost in you. He begins to buck his hips, slapping the skin of your ass with his pelvis each time, making you cry into the mattress. You soon feel him still and he reaches down to bunch up your hair and pulls you back, snapping his hips into you once more.

His touches are so forceful, the veins and muscles in his arms tightening as he manhandles you. But it’s the languid kisses that let you know that the baseline of it all is render, and again, they wash away and pain, any sting.

The discomfort makes your desperation grow, the restlessness makes the sensation of his cock ever better within your sensitive cunt. The harshness mixed with the tenderness is perfect, and you feel like you want more of it.

He pulls you back all the way so your back is pressed against his, chest both of you sitting and supporting your bodies on your legs. Your head is angled back so your neck is exposed to him as he thrusts up into you, and his eyes wander to your bouncing breasts. He fucks you harder so the bounce and jiggle of your tits becomes even more erratic, and he doesn’t know where his hands should stay.

He slaps his hand against one of them, pinching your nipple - it makes you scream in pleasure. The other digs into your tummy, scratching at the soft skin there, latching onto any mound he can find.

It doesn’t take long now. You cum, and it’s lasts a while as he keeps going inside of you, he fucks into you until his own orgasm arrives, and draws your pleasure out until the point that your walls spasm around him again, trapping his cock against your leaking orifice. He wraps his arms around you and you lean against him, head thrown back to lean on his shoulder and he buries his face in your neck. You stay there, with only the heaving of your breaths moving your bodies as you both recuperate from the highs.

Slowly, he roams his hands all over your front, soothing you and giving reassuring squeezes, everywhere - your thighs, tummy, breasts, sides, waist. He is all over your body.

Minho slightly moves to guide you both to lay in your sides but the lightest pull of his cock makes you hiss in sensitivity. He tenses at the noise, and is all the more gentle as he lays you both down.

He kisses your shoulder, brushes your hair back with his fingers, while his other arm still circles beneath your soft waist.

“Perfect…” he hums into your ear, and you can’t help but break a smile because you know he’s referring to you.

You’re both filthy, sweaty, dirty, but it’s perfect. He pulls a blanket from his side to cover the two of you, as he pets you, and occasionally lets out a giddy giggle.

“What’s funny?” you question once you feel like you’ve returned to your body.

“Nothing!” He giggles again. “I’m just happy?”

“Hmm…” You hum contently.

“I’m happy you’re happy, I’m happy we made each other happy.” He adds while lightly rocking you, sighing against your body and how perfect it feels to rest against you and your warmth.

“You do make me very happy.” you quietly confess, and it’s such a simple but deep statement.

Minho blushes and buries himself against you, quite proud of himself himself, satisfied by the work he’s done with your body, and kisses you mindlessly… until he falls asleep thinking of all the ways he can keep making you happy.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know #lee know smut #stray kids minho smut #minho smut

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witch-hazels-musings · 3 years

Note

Hi Hi!!! I was wondering if I could request a reader treating their S/O's wounds after a fight/accident. Possibly with Diluc, Kaeya, and Albedo? Thank you so much I absolutely love your writing :D

^ I love Albedo so much - silly little forgetful genius

Warning -> cleaning injuries, playful/joking

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo⚘

Diluc

Diluc would be pretty angry if he got hurt. It doesn’t matter hoe either, it could be because he was out protecting the city or found himself in a fight, but his pride would be hurt the most if it was because of an accident

He’d beat himself up for being careless and not paying attention - don’t mistake his terrible mood for being annoyed at you, it’s all turned inward

“This is a pretty bad cut.” You take his arm in your hand and look over the wound. It’s hard to tell, but it looks as if it spans from his triceps to his upper bicep. The blood has soaked into his shirt and when you go to examine the rip he pulls away from you.

“You don't need to fuss with it.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Of course I do.” You reach back out to him but he pushes your hand away which makes you huff. It was admirable how much he did and how hard he fought for others, but sometimes his pride got in the way of what was best. You wished he would let those walls down easier.

Diluc was always so much for you - in everything he did you couldn’t keep yourself together and you felt your body tingle from the tips of your fingers to the bottom of your feet. You loved him and sometimes it was painful

“Still, it needs to be treated.” You reached for him for the third time and his hesitancy began to slip. Carefully, you unbuttoned his shirt, keeping a close watch on his facial expressions. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is turned into a frown but he isn’t fighting you. Once you get enough of it unbuttoned, you slide it over his shoulder, and, as if you could forget, you catch sight of his beautiful skin. The muscles around his eye scrunched as you slide the sleeve of his shirt over the injury. “Sorry.”

You’d seen him many times before, but the air in your lungs always escaped when you did, there was something beautiful about him with his shirt half off - how it accentuated his chest and back muscles, the way his vibrant hair complemented his dark shirt and pale skin

You began to clean his wound. First, you wiping it with a cloth, making sure to use a gentle touch so as to not irritate the skin anymore before applying the medicinal cream you often kept on hand.

Even as your eyes looked over the injury, you couldn’t help but glance at his face and look for any sign of discomfort. Soon, you found your gaze trailing down his neck and over his chest. It was unbelievable how attractive he was, and you couldn’t understand that out of everyone, he chose you.

You rummaged through the medical supplies until your hands found the bandages. Shifting closer to Diluc and resting his hand against your outer thigh you began to wrap his injury as carefully as you could.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Not particularly, all that you need to know is the issue has been dealt with.” His chin rested in his free hand and he avoided your eyes.

“Hmm. I’m not surprised, you’re more than capable. I’m nearly done.” You wrapped his arm a few more times for good measure before clipping the bandages together with one of the small metal clasps. “That should do. We should change the bandages tomorrow, but I don’t think you’ll lose the arm.” You chuckle and bend to your side, the items in the medical kit a disorganized mess and you work quickly to get them back in order. When you sit back up Diluc is still sitting in the chair in front of you, which you didn’t expect.

You open your mouth to say something but stop when he turns to you. He runs his fingers against the side of your head, pushing strands of your hair over your ear. His hand rests there for a second, his thumb sliding across your cheek and you feel the goosebumps climb up your back and over your shoulders, seeping into your heart.

“I’ll be more careful next time.” His eyes shift back and forth between your own, his face haloed by fiery hair.

“Mhm.” You nod and he releases you. You gaze at him as he stands by the dresser and works his way into a fresh shirt.

Kaeya

Kaeya loves being pampered by you - he cannot get enough of your touch anyway, and when you care for him, clean him up - all your attention on him - well he gets kind of a big head

“How many times have I told you to be more careful.” You scold him as you position yourself behind the chair.

“At this point, I’ve lost count.” He bent backward and tilted his head until he could look up at you. Even though the two of you had been together for some time, he still found ways to set your veins on fire.

He looked at you and at this angle, you were given a perfect view of his neck and chest. You couldn’t help but notice the discolored skin where he had been injured in battles past. He may be quick on his feet, but he was still human.

As nimbly as he could, he wrapped one of his arms around your back and pulled you close to him.

“Who needs to worry about being safe when they have their own personal nurse.” You laughed and leaned down to place a quick kiss on his forehead. He hummed and the sound warmed your chest.

“I might be out of a job if you don’t be more careful.” You traced your fingers up his neck and along his jawline before giving him a gentle pat against his ear. “Now lean up so I can work.”

He complied, returning his arm to rest on his legs and you settled back over his shoulder. With a light touch, you gripped onto his bicep and pushed it further into the light. The injury, while painful looking, didn’t seem to be too dangerous.

Kaeya was cocky - sometimes more than he should be, and while he was perfectly capable of keeping himself out of harm's way, he didn’t know everything all the time

Taking care of him like this was intimate in its own way. He wanted to be close to you and normally his hands were the ones trailing their way across your skin, but when these situations came up you had more justification to touch him without reservation

The cut stretched across his shoulder blade, almost as if a blade was deflected from striking him in the back. You grabbed the cloth from the warm tub of water and wring it out until there were only a few drops coming off of it. Wrapping it around your hand so you have more control, you slip your pointer and middle finger into the cloth and hold it together in your palm, this way you can clean the skin around the cut more efficiently.

You admire how flawless his skin is as you clean the blood. You hope this doesn’t leave a lasting scar, but honestly, it wouldn’t be the first and unlikely to be the last. As carefully as you could, you begin to clean the edges of the injury. When you hear him suck in the air quickly you stop.

“Ah, did that hurt?”

“Heh, nothing I can’t handle.” He laughs in good humor and shifts a bit in the chair.

“Oh, so I can stop being so gentle then?”

“Now hold on.” He begins to turn around, his confident smile already slipping.

“I’m kidding.” You reassure him with a snicker, placing your hand on the side of his arm. “Be a good patient and relax.”

You finish cleaning his wound and covering it with the healing ointment before working on placing the bandage. Thankfully, the Knights always had everything on hand so it made the whole process quick and relatively painless.

“I think we are good.” You pack away the items and place them back into the medical cabinet, the door closes with a satisfying click. Walking over to the small refreshment table you pour water into a cup and make sure you take both it and the pain medication back to Kaeya. As you make your way back to him he’s already putting his shirt back on, a shame really. “Here, these should help with the pain.”

You hold out your hand to him and wait for him to finish. When he turns around and his eyes land on the pills in your hand he smirks.

“I know another way to alleviate pain.” He walks toward you and you already feel the urge to roll your eyes.

“And what is that?”

“Kissing.” He looks down at you and pulls at your shirt. He closes his eyes and leans down to your face but you hold him off.

“Hey now. Why don’t you take these and then we can talk.” You knock your knuckles onto his slightly exposed chest and with a huff he concedes. Quickly, he takes the medicine in his hands and tosses them in his mouth, you offer him the water but he doesn’t take it. “Good jo…” He cuts you off. His lips connecting with yours and his hands pulling you close.

He pulls away and looks at you, “See, my way is so much better.”

“Cheeky.” You poke back and fail in your attempt to get away from his lips.

Albedo

He’s taken care of himself for so long that it’s still a shock sometimes to have someone dote on him as much as you do - you’re always around to help him and he’s starting to find your company quite enjoyable

Here’s the kicker - Albedo wouldn’t notice if he had been injured until way later - so when you react loudly near him he doesn’t completely follow nor understand what has made you so upset

“Albedo! What happened?” You reach out to his face and when he disconnects from the papers that have kept his attention for so long you see the confusion in his eyes.

“Y/N, sorry. I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“You have a cut on your face.” You brush his hair away from his forehead and shake your head as you see the cut across his brow.

He reached up and touched his head, when he pulled his hand back to his line of sight and saw the blood on his fingertips his reaction was calm. “Well, this is a surprise.”

You turn around and walk toward one of the cabinets in the research facility. It wasn’t uncommon for small accidents like these to happen here. Often, the experiments would become quite volatile or their reactions unexpected. You pulled the items from the shelf and remembered the time an unfortunate student lost his eyebrows.

Quickly, you made your way back to Albedo’s side and placed the medical box on the counter next to you. As you rummage through the items in the box you start to talk to yourself, narrating out everything you were doing as well as your thoughts.

“I know there should be some things in here that will help. I could have sworn that it had, ah yes. Here you are tricky thing.” You tear open a small bag and pull out a cloth. As quickly as possible you get it wet and feel it begin to lather under your fingers. “I’ll use this to clean your wound and then I’ll bandage it.”

You walk back to Albedo and place your hand against his cheek. He’s been watching you this whole time and lets you do as you please. “Where is Sucrose when you need her. At least she seems to keep you out of harm's way … sometimes at least.” At this point, you are mumbling, and more to yourself than you are to Albedo. When he laughs you freeze, one hand resting under his chin and the other against his forehead. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re so upset that you’re talking to yourself.”

“Oh … really?”

“Mhm”

“… I didn’t even notice.” You feel your ears get warm and pinch your lips together.

“It’s fine. I often talk out loud when I’m looking at my research.”

It never ceased to amaze you how similar the two of you were - how you could both get so lost in whatever you were doing that the world seemed to fade away

Still - Albedo was the only person in your life who could keep your attention on the here and now - from the day you met him he was your present and, hopefully, your future

“This should be enough, does your head hurt?” You placed the bandage over his injury. The research facility was really to thank for the adhesive additions to small bandages like this. Somehow, they managed to make the edges sticky enough to adhere to the skin, but not too much to make it impossible to remove.

“No, it seems to be okay. Thank you.” He reached up and grabbed your hand and let it rest in his lap.

“No problem.” You avert your eyes and let them rest on the floor. He gives your hand a squeeze before letting you go and the warmth of his palm leaves yours chilled. The two of you just live in the comfortable silence for a second, he glances your way and you push the medical box along the counter. Finally, you break the silence, “I should put this back.”

You pack up the items and close the box before walking back to the cabinet where you got it. As you slide it back onto the shelf the question you never got the answer to slipped back into your brain.

“Hey,” you begin, turning around and leaning against the counter. “So do you remember how you got the cut on your head?” You cross your arms and stare at him from across the space.

He scratches his head with his pencil and shakes his head. “I can’t recall. Oh, are you busy though?”

“No, I’m free the rest of the day.” You reply.

“Excellent, would you be inclined to stay and assist me? I have a number of things I’m working on and would appreciate the extra hands.”

“Sure. Where can I start?” You push yourself from the counter and take a few steps toward him.

“Ah yes, I need to organize the specimens in the closet back there … ” he stands and begins to walk toward the back closet, you head that way and reach it before he does. “There were a number of things to do …”

His voice trails off as you open the door and find a great number of items littering the floor. Boxes, books, papers, and other random items spread about in complete disarray.

“Oh … I think I remember how I got injured.” He stares over your shoulder and in defeat, you cover your eyes with your hand.

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ijwrsmff · 3 years

Note

Hello there

This one is a bit lengthy but can i please get headcanons of the straw hats reaction to an admiral reader(gender neutral please) who quits the marine to join them, and is at first is distrusted but does something to gain theirs trust

I hope it's not too much trouble

It's no trouble at all! I really like this idea, it was a ton of fun to write! I hope you enjoy it ^^

Luffy:

He found you during a fight with the marines

He noticed...you were so much stronger than the marines you were fighting with

Maybe not strong in comparison to Luffy...but he was extremely powerful so comparing to him isn’t fair

He saw you deal what should have been a finishing blow to his crewmates…

But for some reason you never hit them hard enough to kill them

Down them, sure...but never kill

He makes quick work of the other marines, and approaches you with a smile

“Join my crew!”

You looked at him baffled

“Quit the marines and throw away all my hard work to become an admiral because some...kid thinks I would be a good match for his crew? No thanks.”

Luffy left it at that, but knew he’d see you again soon

You encountered him once more at a nearby island

“Is...is that offer still on the table?”

He grinned wide and pulled you by your hand to his ship

He couldn’t put his finger on it...but something was special about you

He just knew the crew would love you

After they get over their initial distrust that is

But Luffy? He trusted you already

No hesitation, he knew you had a good heart and that’s what really mattered

Zoro:

He didn’t trust you...at all

He would go silent when you talked to him, giving you the silent treatment

He didn’t trust the marines...how was he supposed to know you weren’t there as a spy?

You tried to talk to him a couple times...but he just pretended he was sleeping

One day, he was up in the crow’s nest training and you walked in

“Mind if we spar? It’s been a while since I was able to.”

Since you left the marines

He huffed but gave a firm “sure”

He didn’t go easy on you, which surprised him when you handled yourself fairly well

You parried his attacks, and gave a few good jabs of your own

He respected your strength

He still won...but he expected to beat you within seconds

Not minutes, nearly half an hour of sparring

From then on, he’ll make small talk with you

Every once in a while he’ll go to take a nap and he’ll pull you down to lay beside him

He also sits next to you at the dinner table, even helping you fend off Luffy when he tries to steal your food

Overall...he respected strength. And if Luffy chose you...you were here to stay

Once he starts to trust you, he’ll protect you at all costs

Nami:

She trusts Luffy’s decision...but that doesn't mean she has to trust YOU

She won’t go out of her way to be mean...but she won’t help you if it means bending over backwards

She interrogates you, wanting to know why Luffy had chosen you

After days of interrogation on and off...she thinks she sees why

You were unhappy in the marines

Sure...you managed to become an admiral...but the happiness you had hoped to feel just wasn’t there

She discovered that in the short time you’ve been on this ship, you’ve felt happier than you ever did in the marines

She’ll be nicer after that, slowly building up her trust in you

“Want me to show you how I chart the islands we go to?”

Even if cartography wasn’t your thing, you figured it would help get you closer to Nami

After that, you would spend hours upon hours with Nami

She can be very...very protective

So once she trusts you, any comments about you that weren’t warranted she’d defend you

She wants to get closer to you, and spends the majority of her time with you

Either sitting on the deck or working on her maps

She even tells Sanji off if he starts to bother you, making the hearts in his eyes break

She’ll protect you...and she knows in her heart you’d protect her too

Usopp:

He is so...so scared of you at first

You were an ADMIRAL

How could you just give up that position to join a crew?

Doesn’t trust you for a good long while

He’s convinced you’re a spy

He lets his imagination get to him, and that drives a wedge between you two

You don’t blame him...the situation is sketchy, but you were genuine

You would spend all the time needed to get the crew to trust you

After only being with them a short period of time...you trusted them with your life

And that’s never happened before

In the marines...people wouldn’t go out of their way to save another if it meant getting hurt in the process

During battle, you stepped in front of Usopp and took a harsh blow, forming a long slash across your chest

After that...he’s significantly nicer to you

He visits you in the infirmary and looks...troubled

“What’s wrong Usopp?” You give him a concerned look

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you save me...you’re hurt now. Because of me.”

You smiled at him...so he did care

This was a good first step

Maybe eventually you can become even closer

Sanji:

He’s reluctant to trust you at first, but Luffy seems to see something in you…

Just like he saw something in him

So he tries to get closer to you, even going so far as to not flirt with you

Not until he got to know you better

The first time he really began to see the trust between you building was a regular day

Nothing particularly special about it, except you went into the kitchen while he was cooking

“Mind if I help?” It was your attempt to get closer to him

“Of course! Here, I need this mixed.”

You cooked together in relative silence, small talking every once in a while

Overall it was...nice

It was a bonding experience and he cherished it

That day, he sat next to you at the dinner table

You gave him a wide smile, which he returned

He would defend you to anyone who spoke ill of you after that

He could be quite protective, and it showed

Especially to Zoro, who made comments about your being a spy (which only made Usopp and Chopper panic more about the situation)

“Hey marimo! They don’t deserve the bullshit you’re throwing at them. Back off.”

“What are you gonna do about it, shitty cook?” A smirk formed on Zoro’s face

Oh dear...it looks like they’re fighting again

You went to speak up, but Nami stopped you

“They get like this sometimes. Though it’s impressive how quick Sanji was to take the bait this time...I think he likes you.” She gives you a wink and your face flushes

Who knows what the future will bring...all you know? Is that you made the right choice to join this crew

Chopper:

He wants to trust you...he really does

But the nagging fear of you hurting his crew is at the back of him mind

He avoids you, not wanting to risk getting hurt

Once you get injured in battle...he realizes how unfair it was that he did so

“I’m sorry y/n...you’re hurt. Please follow me to the infirmary.”

He keeps it relatively formal, only talking when he needed to do something to check on you

“Would you...come back in a couple days so I can check on the wound and how it’s healing?”

You gave him a smile “yes doctor! Thank you!”

“Hehe you don’t have to thank me I don’t deserve your thanks I was just doing what I’d do for any of our crew!” He swayed back and forth, his paws on his face as he smiled

You could swear you saw flowers around him…

After that, he invited you to play games with him, Usopp, and Luffy

While Usopp was still reluctant, Luffy was 100% on board

“Come on y/n! Play with us!” Chopper smiled up at you and...well...there’s no way you could say no to his adorable face

So you joined in

It was fun...more fun than you thought possible to have

You laughed as Chopper tagged you, and you spun around picking him up in a hug

“Chopper...thank you.”

He smiled and laughed, “for what? Tagging you?”

You shook your head, putting him down

“No...for being a good friend.”

And he was, he was your best friend. You grew closer to him in the days following and you were certain you made the right decision

Robin:

She knows what it’s like to not be trusted by the crew initially...but at least with her it was one pirate to another

You were a marine

And not just a marine...but an admiral

She is reluctant to trust you, but will give you the benefit of the doubt

She spends a lot of time with you, gauging if you’re a threat to her crew or not

She would sacrifice herself for any one of them...you’re no exception

She almost thinks its her JOB to determine if you’re a threat or not

It wasn’t until your first battle together that she finds she trusts you

You give her a look, and she knows to use her devil’s fruit

You both coordinate perfectly together, and it shows your trust

She has only battled so flawlessly with her crew...which means you’re entirely one of them now

She will defend you from that fight forward, and stands up for you when the others express their doubts

“Y/n? Would you like to read with me?” She pats the spot next to her and smiled at you

“Of course! What are we reading today?”

The two of you grow closer and closer, spending hours upon hours just...enjoying each other’s company

She looks at your smile and knows...she would do anything to keep that happy smile on your face

Franky:

He doesn’t trust you...but he doesn’t...NOT trust you

He’s reluctant to get close, but finds it’s really easy with you

He’s newer to the crew, but he trusts Luffy’s judgement

So he doesn’t have any reason not to give you a chance

He’ll spend time with you, requesting you sit in his workroom as he works on a specialized weapon for you

Over that time, you make a lot of small talk

It brings you closer together

“Y/n! What do you think?” He’ll say holding up your now finished weapon “Pretty super, right? Don’t you just love it?” He has a look of pride on his face that makes you grin

You take the weapon into your hands and feel the weight is perfect

Not light, but not overly heavy either

“Thank you Franky!” You jump up to hug him and miss seeing his face turn a dark crimson

“O-of course! Anything for a crewmate!” He hugs you back, lightly as if he’s afraid he’ll break you

This makes you laugh, “Franky...I was an admiral remember? I won’t break from a hug!”

“Well then...take this!” He lifts you up, spinning you around in circles

You both laugh, pulling each other closer and closer

Once he sets you down you see the fleeting color of pink on his cheeks

You were sure your face mirrored the same color

He knows in that moment he would protect you

Even if you didn’t need it

Maybe...protect isn’t the right word

It sounds so...one sided

“I’ll protect you...will you protect me?” He looks sheepish, almost as if he hated asking

You lean up and kiss his cheek

“I’ll protect you Franky. I’ll protect all of us...this crew...it’s special.”

He nods, knowing exactly what you meant

“Then we’ll protect each other.”

And it was settled

Brook:

As soon as you stepped onto the ship he approached you

“Your name is y/n...correct?”

“Yup! That’s me!”

He leaned down so your…”eyes” were level with each other

“Can I see your panties?”

SLAP

“...is that a no?”

It’s safe to assume...he doesn’t judge you for being an admirable

Though seeing some of the crew be distant from you...it only motivates him to speak to you more

You looked tired after playing with the crew on deck, so he approached you

“Would you like me to play you a song to help you sleep?”

You stared wide eyed, not knowing he was the musician on the ship

“Sure! Would you...maybe be able to teach me how to play an instrument?”

“Which instrument would you like to learn?”

You hummed, “I’m not sure. I’ll get back to you on that.”

And so he played you a song

It put not only you, but Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper to sleep

He would have grinned if he could, and looked over his crewmates with love

As he finished the song he looked at you once again

“Sleep well y/n...I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #x reader #gn reader #nami x reader #usopp x reader #sanji x reader #chopper x reader #tony tony chopper x reader #robin x reader #nico robin x reader #franky x reader #brook x reader

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

Lost Time (The Ashes of Yourself Part 2)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: mentions of suicide attempts/ideation, swearing, daddy/abandonment issues

Word count: 3,879

You and Techno stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, both of you not knowing what to say to each other. So much was left unsaid between you two throughout your childhoods and the past four years that you didn’t know where to even start. You supposed a simple ‘how are you?’ would suffice, but that’d be too simple, far too simple for not talking to each other in literal years. But you couldn’t just say ‘hey, I’m incredibly jealous that you are Dad’s favorite and I totally didn’t send you my suicide note that you may or may not have seen’, that’d be way too much trauma dumping for your taste. You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you chose to sheepishly grin at him and awkwardly wave.

“Heh uh, how’re you…?” Smooth, (y/n). Real smooth.

You watched as he furrowed his brows slightly before he hesitantly gave you a small wave with his gargantuan pink hand. “...I’m doin alright. You?”

“I’ve seen better days.”

“Right…”

An awkward silence fell over you two as you glanced down at your bloodied hands. “Sorry bout the blood. It won’t really stop until I stop moving.”

He shrugged, “that’s fine. I’ve bled everywhere in this house. Nothing that won’t come out.”

“Alright then.”

You wanted to crawl into a pit and just let yourself die, you hated this awkward atmosphere you created. Your mind scrambled to find something to say to the man other than a stupid ‘alright then’. You haven’t even seen him in four years, surely you would be able to find something to talk about. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard him clear his throat.

“I uh got some clothes for you. They’re Tommy’s old clothes from when he stayed with me during his exile. I don’t know if they’ll fit, but I’m guessing that they’re better than the wet ones you’re wearing.”

When he saw you wince when you tried to stand up, he rushed to your side and helped you stand up. You could feel the backs of your knees start to drip blood. “Do you have any spare lava?”

His hands paused on your upper arms, “yes, but why would you need it?”

“It kinda heals me. I mean, just enough that my skin stops cracking open and bleeding everywhere.”

“Why don’t we just take you to a lava lake in the Nether?”

You glanced out the window at the flurry of snowflakes falling to the ground and being whisked off to other places by the harsh wind. You shuttered, remembering what it felt like to be fully engulfed in water. “Water hurts. I don’t want to get burnt out again.”

“Right, I’ll go get a few buckets full. Stay here,” with that, he ushered you to sit in front of the fire once again and draped the large blanket over your shoulders again. You could hear him move to another room and rustle around what you presumed was a chest before you heard his heavy footsteps walking behind the couch. You could hear the billowing of the wind when he opened the door before it was cut off by the door closing.

You leaned forward and put your hands in the fire, relishing in the feeling of the flames melting away the charred skin slightly. The flames licked and caressed your dark skin slowly giving you more feeling back in the damaged tissue. As you were turning your hands over the flames, you thought about your voluntary near death experience just about an hour before.

The thought of the ocean finally taking you and dragging your charcoaled corpse into its depths never to be seen again was alluring. After feeling the intense pain and the suffocation that came with chucking yourself into the ocean when you’re part blaze was definitely a deterrent, but you just had to push through the pain. This was something you’d dreamt of doing since you were fifteen and you’d be damned if you were going to let pain stop you.

You know you felt sort of… grateful that Philza saved you when you were laying on that beach, but now that you had time to reflect on what happened, you felt resentful that he did. Of course he’d take away the only good thing you had going on in your life, he was full of audacity and impudence when you were a kid. He hasn’t changed at all much to your disappointment. You shouldn’t have expected him to change in the first place, that was just something that you knew in the back of your mind would never happen. A large part of you craved his approval and affection, but you knew that wouldn’t happen.

Your thoughts were cut off by someone pulling you back gently from the fire. “I got the lava. Uh, I can set up an area for you downstairs with netherrack.”

“No, you don’t have to, I just have to put it on my joints for a few minutes.”

“Don’t you want to, uh, fully cover yourself?”

“I can hold off until the snowstorm dies down. It’s nothing too major.” You dipped your hands into the large bucket of lava and sighed in relief, “that’s much better, thank you Technoblade.”

“It’s no problem, but you literally just almost died. How is that something that’s ‘not major’?”

“I’m used to… well, this,” you took a hand out of the lava and gestured to your stone covered arm. “It’s just more than I’m used to. Kinda uncomfortable, but I’ll live.”

“What do you mean you’re used to it? You don’t live by water do you?”

“Yeah, I live by the ocean so I’m bound to get a little charred. No big deal,” you took your hands out of the bucket, shook the excess lava off, and stuck your elbows in. You looked at your now dully glowing hand and wiggled your fingers. There were more blackened scars etched into your skin on your joints, but you didn’t care.

“Heh? Why the hell would you live by an ocean?”

You wove your hands nonchalantly in the air, “I always liked how the water looked when the sun set. The way that the pinks and yellows would reflect and bounce off the waves? Breathtaking.” You also lived by the ocean so that you had an easy way out of living, but you weren’t about to tell him that. Too much trauma dumping.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Have you ever seen the sun setting over the ocean?” You rose a brow at the piglin hybrid sitting on the couch.

“Well, no but-”

“Then you can’t knock it till you try it. I’ll take you to my old place after I can take a proper lava bath. You won’t regret it, promise.”

“Still, you’re literally made of fire. Look what happened to you… Er, speaking of, how’d this happen?” He looked you up and down inquisitively with his red eyes.

You sighed as you took your elbows out of the lava and dipped your feet into the buckets. “...Do you still have your communicator?”

You watched as his floppy ear flicked and his eyebrow rose at you, “...Yes, but I only talk to Dad. Why, did you leave me a message?” Before he could stand up to grab his communicator, you stopped him with a hand on his shin. “No, I didn’t. I was just wondering.”

He didn’t look convinced, “...tell me what happened. Were you pushed?”

Your shoulders tensed up against your will before you forced them to relax. “I fell in, got too close to the edge.”

“You’re so lucky Dad was already at your house, you could’ve died. How could you be so careless?”

You only responded with a blaze-like frustrated grunt that rumbled in the back of your throat and removed your feet from the buckets. Picking up one of the buckets, you took a swig of the lava. The viscous liquid crawled slowly down your throat and soothed your burned esophagus and stomach. Clearing your throat, you looked over to your estranged brother. He was looking at you with disgust, his snout scrunched up slightly and his mouth twisted into a grimace.

“What?” Your voice sounded less strained and scratchy. Overall, it felt better to speak.

“Your- your feet were just in there. That’s disgusting.”

You blew out a puff of smoke and watched as it drifted to the ceiling, “my feet were just in water, remember? They’re clean. And besides, I swallowed and inhaled a lot of water so I needed it. I mean, my lungs are still stone, but there’s nothing I can do about it except wait it out.”

“That’s still gross. Wait, can you not drink water?”

“No- well technically I can, but it hurts. Gimme one sec.”

He was quiet as he watched you take a deep breath and dunk your entire head into the lava bucket you weren’t drinking from. His youngest sibling was… strange, but he found that he enjoyed your company so far. The only company he’s had at his cabin recently was his brothers and dad, which burned him out slightly with their big personalities. You were as awkward as he was and that was refreshing. But he couldn’t help but feel guilty after hearing the majority of yours and Philza’s argument. Now that he thought back on his childhood, the majority of his memories were of him and Philza. He didn’t have many negative memories past his adoption, and that was because he spent all of his time adventuring with Philza. He did everything with his adoptive father and absolutely nothing with his siblings. He knew nothing about Wilbur, well Ghostbur now, or Tommy until they stayed with him during Tommy’s exile. He’s never talked to you or spent any time with you before, and he wanted to get to know who you were. He wanted to make up for lost time.

After you were under for a while, he started to worry that you drowned yourself. Just as he was about to pull your head out of the bucket with a hand close to your forehead, you slowly removed your head from the lava and held it over the bucket so that the excess would drip off from you. Panting slightly, you sat up fully and wiped your eyes clean of the lava. You could hear some rustling in front of you so you opened your eyes to see your brother holding out clothes to you.

“Go change, I’ll make dinner. There’s a spare room upstairs, second door on the left. You can stay there for now.”

You hesitated before you took the clothes from him, “I… Thank you Techno.” You weren’t expecting him to be so kind to you, he was known as the blood god after all. He was ruthless when he battled, leaving thousands without families. You saw him a couple of times when you were younger coming home with Philza covered in blood with a malicious expression on his face. That always made you try to avoid him; not that you had any difficulty doing that, he was never home.

He curtly nodded before he turned to walk into where you assumed was the kitchen. You trudged up the stairs and tiredly drug your feet down the hallway towards the second door on the left. When you opened the door, you were pleasantly surprised. You didn’t know what you were expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t this. It was simplistic, yet it looked like a professional decorated it.

The bed looked incredibly comfortable and soft with a large white comforter draped over the top. At both sides of the headboard, twin chests sat underneath double hung windows with wooden frames that matched the spruce planks that made up the walls. You were sure that once the relentless snowstorm stopped you would be able to see a spruce forest in the distance. Lanterns hung at the far corners of the room opposite of where the bed sat. Glancing at the opposite wall, you saw a framed portrait of a nether fortress. You assumed that it was the nether fortress on the other side of his portal. If you squinted, you could see orange specks that you assumed were blazes.

After you got dressed, you were pleasantly surprised to see that Tommy’s clothes fit you. Despite the slight bagginess of the pants and the sleeves of the jumper hanging halfway past your hands, they fit relatively well. Humming in satisfaction, you hung up your wet clothes to dry and made your way downstairs following the savory smell of cooking meat and potatoes. Your mouth watered at the smell, it’s been a while since you’ve eaten an actual meal. You’d just been surviving on an apple a day with the occasional potato when you had some leftover from making homemade vodka.

You walked into the kitchen and looked at your brother standing at the stove, the stove looked miniscule compared to his seven and a half foot tall form. That man was a giant and you wouldn’t be lying if his height alone didn’t intimidate you slightly. If he wanted, he could grab your entire face with his hand. Various light pink scars decorated his muscular arms that poked out from the rolled up sleeves of his blouse. He wasn’t wearing his huge fluffy cloak, instead it was draped over the back of one of the chairs at the large wooden dining table. Every part of your body wanted to take it, wrap yourself up into a blaze hybrid burrito, and take the best nap you’ve ever had. His corseted form moved gracefully around the kitchen grabbing various spices and herbs.

You saw his ears twitch before he moved his massive head to look back at you, you could see the corners of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly. “They fit you, that’s good. Take a seat, dinner's almost ready.” With that, you took a seat at the table. You felt like a child again, the table was huge, the tabletop coming up to your lower chest. The table and chairs were made of what looked like dark oak wood. The wood was carved intricately with complex patterns etched into the frame and the back of the chairs.

You eyed the cape draped over the chair next to you. It was a deep royal red with black speckled white fur lining the border of the fabric. If you looked closely, you could see that the pendant that connected the two ends was made of gold and had a diamond encrusted center. It looked incredibly soft, it would be so easy to just reach out with a finger to pet it. Your brother wouldn’t notice if you did it quick enough so that you could touch it before he turned around. When you gathered the courage to touch the cloak, you reached out with a slightly shaking hand to pet the fur, watching Technoblade the entire time.

Everytime he would move to grab a spice, you would quickly retract your hand and try to act as innocent as possible only to try again after he didn’t turn around again. Just as you finally touched the fabric, you were in awe with how soft it was. It was like petting a newborn puppy but better. You truly couldn’t put into words how soft it was.

You were snapped out of your trance by a small chuckle, “soft isn’t it?” You jumped, quickly retracting your hand and smacking your head against the back of your chair in the process. You could feel your cheeks heat up more than they usually did, you could see the glow of orange intensify at the bottom of your vision. Your brother was staring at you with amusement, his mouth quirked up in a small smile. He was carrying two plates full of steak and potatoes, putting one in front of you before walking to sit opposite of you.

“Uh, yeah. It- it’s really soft.”

“I got it from a nation thousands of blocks from here, it wasn’t easy to get. Those guards were not happy to see me stealing from their king.” He chuckled before he started to eat his food.

“Is that where you got the crown too?”

“No, Dad got it for me as a going away present when I moved out… You’ve grown up so much since I’ve last seen you. I remember when you barely reached my waist and now you’re only about a foot and a half shorter than me.”

“You’ve gotten taller also, more scars too.”

“You as well. Are all those from water?”

“Yeah, it only scars when I crack the stone on my skin though.”

“Ouch. So like you get scars whenever you move?”

You shrugged, “basically.” Turning to your plate, you struggled with not wolfing down the entire thing in one go. You didn’t want to have your brother get the impression you had bad table manners. Wilbur raised you better than that. When you took a bite of the stake, you moaned slightly at the taste. Quickly swallowing your mouthful, you looked at your brother with wide eyes. “Ender Tech, where’d you learn to cook? It’s delicious.”

He gave you a small bashful smile and shrugged, “when you’ve been living alone for this long you pick up on a few things.”

“I’ve been living alone for about a year now and I still can’t cook.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “well what do you eat then?”

“Just an apple a day, maybe a potato too if I have any to spare.”

He narrowed his eyes, “how the hell are you still alive? That’s hardly enough.”

You blankly stared at your plate, “I’ve been asking myself that everyday, things aren’t… amazing living alone. Uh, let’s talk about happier things. I wanna get to know you.”

He stared at you for a while before he sighed, “fine, but we’re talking about this later. How do you wanna go about getting to know each other?”

“It’s gonna be hard cuz we have like seventeen years to catch up on, but I think we can do it. Let’s… let’s play the favorites game. We take turns naming a category and we both say what our favorite thing in that is. I’ll start, what’s your favorite type of mythology? Like Greek, Egyptian, Norse…”

His eyes lit up at the mention of mythology, “I like Greek mythology. I can talk for hours about it.”

“Nice! I personally like Norse mythology better, we have to exchange myths sometime.”

“My turn, what’s your favorite myth?”

You matched his excitement, “I really like the Ragnarok myth. The fact that the gods know of their impending doom and destruction and are actively working towards it is- is just really intriguing. What’s yours?”

You both abandoned your meals as your conversation diverged into telling each other various myths from your respective favorite mythologies. Your favorite ones he told you were the tales of Orpheus and Eurydice, Persephone and Hades, and Psyche and Eros. You were a sucker for romance even if the thought of you being in a relationship was something you were uncomfortable thinking about. Romance stories just made you happy to see people finding comfort and fulfillment in each other. You told him more about Ragnarok, the creation of Mjolnir, and the murder of Baldur.

Before you two knew it, hours passed by. Your untouched dinners grew cold and the clock struck midnight startling both of you out of your story telling. You both looked at the grandfather clock then back at each other in shock, “we’ve been talking for four hours Tech.”

“Yeah, we did. It- it was nice talking about mythology. Usually people get bored when I talk about it.”

You rolled your eyes, “Ender, I know. Why don’t they find it as interesting as we do? It’s been a while since I’ve had someone to talk to, it’s nice.”

“We better go to bed, we can just eat a bigger breakfast tomorrow before we take you to the Nether and your house. You probably want to sleep in your own bed.”

You laughed nervously, “yeah about that… I don’t really have a bed anymore. Or an actual house for that matter.”

“The fuck happened?”

“I may have burnt it down accidentally.”

He was silent for a bit before he looked at you suspiciously. “Are you gonna burn my house down?” And there’s the thing you hated most when you told people of your lineage and abilities. They always believe that you’re a being of destruction and inferno. They always grow to not trust you around them or their possessions fearing you would burn them to a crisp. You cursed your biological parents daily for giving you these genes.

You shrunk in on yourself slightly, “no, I’d never do that to you. I’m in control as long as I keep my emotions in check. Can’t get too excited, scared, or happy. I just can’t do anything extreme and my temperature stays low.”

He grunted, nodding in satisfaction. “We probably should get to sleep soon if we wanna get stuff done before the family reunion.”

“I forgot about that… Have you met the kid Phil’s gonna adopt?”

He drew in a long breath into his nose and huffed it out of his mouth. “Yeah, his name’s Ranboo. And he’s actually only about half a year younger than you are. I don’t know how to feel about him yet, but he seems like he has good intentions.”

You drug a hand through the flames idly flickering on your head, “is Phil seriously gonna adopt another kid? I don’t think it’s a good idea for him.”

“That’s what I thought, I don’t need any more orphans running around here. You, Tommy, and Wilbur are more than enough. We can talk more about this in the morning.”

With that, you picked up your plates and took them to the kitchen. Before you could turn on the water faucet, a hand on your shoulder stopped you. “I’ll get it. You can’t be around this stuff.”

“A little water won’t hurt me. It’s the least I could do, you made dinner.”

“A little water will hurt you. Go to bed, I’ll handle this. It’s only two dishes.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but it snapped shut as soon as he gave you a warning look. “Go to bed (y/n).”

“...Aright, thank you for doing that. I’ll see ya in the morning.”

He grunted as you walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the guest room. You walked straight to the bed and plopped down onto the surface. You felt sort of bad that you were rubbing soot off onto the white comforter from your still charcoaled skin, but it was nothing that you couldn’t clean in the morning. The bed was extremely comfortable, a stark contrast to your old one. Your old one had lumps and some exposed bedsprings sticking out of the fabric. With the weight of the heavy comforter and the plush mattress, you were out like a light.

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#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #ghostbur x reader #tommyinnit x reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader #sibling reader #platonic #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: suicide attempt #tw: swearing #tw: abandonment issues #tw: daddy issues #tw: depression #tw: blood

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inkykeiji · 4 years

Text

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back

character: dabi | todoroki touya

notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use

words: 7.1k

part 2.1 | part 2.2

synopsis:

“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.

She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.

You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.

It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.

It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.

You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.

But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?

You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.

He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.

Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.

The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.

It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.

The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.

He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.

He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.

✰ ✰ ✰

To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.

This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.

You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.

Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.

You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.

Touya must have a lot of things imported.

You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.

After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…

You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.

You don’t ask—no one ever does.

You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.

You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.

The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.

You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”

You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.

Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”

“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.

So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.

“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”

It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.

And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.

It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.

And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.

Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.

Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.

Who are you to deny him that, really?

✰ ✰ ✰

The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.

He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.

You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.

You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.

Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.

Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.

His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.

“You had niichan worried,”

You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”

Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”

“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”

Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.

Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.

“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.

He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I…I did?”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”

“Wh-What?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.

Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.

“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.

But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.

“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.

“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”

“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. “But you’ll never do it again, right?”

“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.

“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.

“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”

His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.

“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

✰ ✰ ✰

He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.

Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.

A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.

Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.

It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.

“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”

The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.

A nightmare.

You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.

You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…

Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.

You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.

That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.

Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.

He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

“Princess? What is it?”

You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.

“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”

You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.

But he plays along.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”

Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.

“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.

Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.

“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.

You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.

These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.

“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.

His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.

Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.

It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.

“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”

You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.

“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”

You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”

He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.

“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”

Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.

“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”

He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.

Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.

And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?

“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”

Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”

And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?

Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.

“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.

Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”

He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”

Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.

Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”

Of course. Of courses you do.

Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.

“But you gotta get it wet first,”

You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.

He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.

They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.

He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.

Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.

“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.

You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.

But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.

He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.

“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”

✰ ✰ ✰

You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.

He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.

And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?

Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.

By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.

“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.

As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.

He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.

✰ ✰ ✰

He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.

But eventually, he returns.

The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…

He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.

And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.

With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.

“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.

“So what if I am?”

“What did you take?”

“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”

Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.

“Can I try some?” you ask instead.

All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it—even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”

Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.

He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.

“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”

“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.

You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.

“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”

You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.

“Wh-What?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”

Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.

Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.

“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.

“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”

You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.

A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.

The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.

You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.

His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.

“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.

He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.

Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.

Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.

You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”

He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.

But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.

And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.

“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.

He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”

#todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi x reader #dabi smut #touya x reader #dabi may be a scumbag but he loves his momma #tomura baby i’m so sorry #promise u don’t horrify me at all oof #pls come horrify me more #christ if dabi isn’t touya we’re all gonna look like goddamn fools #a buncha clowns #anyway this is my first time posting something like this #n i haven’t written smut in an extremely long time #so pls be nice #actually u should always be nice #so pls be extra nice #no one beta’d this so there’s a good chance i’ll come back to it n revise it or whatever idk i’m just sick of looking at it rn #the ‘he talks too much’ is inspired by ch 271 w hawks where he’s all ‘he’ll keep talking’#dabi shut the fuck up challenge #prone to monologuing this boy is #also sorry abt the crazy sentences with a thousand commas #apparently now i’m oscar wilde w these run on sentences #idk i still kinda like em tho #i like oscar #tw pseudo-incest #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw emotional manipulation #tw somnophilia #tw drugs

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