#it's okay i can fix him (by making him worse)

[kruegerspillow]

small arguments with simon riley would be like...

well, you don't argue with simon often

so when a conflict DOES ignite between the both of you, there'll be no funny businesses

the whole damn argument, simon stares at you blankly. no thoughts behind those eyes, until you're done speaking.

"love." yes, it's that nickname again.

he feverishly needed to talk it out between the both of you, not wanting to ruin the relationship he'd spent his whole life wishing upon.

but the words always get stuck in his throat.

so, instead of speaking, he'll let a few minutes of silence pass, giving the both of you to gather your composure back.

buuut his reaction/reply to the argument would be different. it depends on who is in the wrong. if it is you who's in the wrong, he'll most likely isolate himself for a while, most likely for a few hours/maximum a DAY. he'll lowkey die without you around him.

he doesn't hold grudges, so a few apologies and kisses from you is enough. but his trust? a bit bruised (as long as you didn't say anything too far!) but nothing that you can't fix.

he'll let you pamper him all day.

under one condition—he won't let you buy anything for him as an apology. that's his job. your apology and presence is enough.

but if it is him who's in the wrong? oh, the silent guilt will gnaw at the bars of his enclosure.

for example: whenever you lecture or tell him to take care of his health, he'll most likely brush it off as if it was nothing.

and that pisses you off, because you care deeply about him.

you'll probably start telling him off, rambling about how he needed to listen to you more.

until he rolled his damn eyes at you.

that's your breaking point. your annoyance reached its peak point.

"can you— can you listen to me for once, riley?"

that caught his attention.

he immediately tensed up at the sudden change in your tone, shifting in his seat so that he's fully facing you.

but when he met your gaze, he was far too late. your tears already threatened to spill.

panics in the inside AND outside. his eyes widen in surprise and hands twitch in desperation. he wanted to reach out to you but he didn't know if it would make it worse or better.

so, he stayed—with the feeling of regret punching him in the guts.

he watched you sniffle, turning your head away from him as the silence took over the conversation— well, argument. one sided argument.

until you shifted closer to him. he took that as an offer.

immediately goes up to you and wraps his arm around you. he's quiet for a while, mumbling apologies and promises (that you need to remind him of)

once your sobs and sniffles come to an end, it's his turn to speak

"love, i know you've heard this a million bloody times, but 'm sorry."

"should've listened to ya, yeah?"

"it's okay sweet'eart, let it out."

"fuck, if i could i'd stop those tears of yours from flowing, i would."

and in a few hours, you'll get your favorite takeout, snacks and flowers. he'll pamper you with kisses all day.

(he won't promise to stop being stubborn though. that's one unique part of him that you loved, anyway.)

kruegerspillow © 2024 — reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[harumasa-wifey]

Omgomg i love your writing sm 😭‼️

Since you're open for request, can I request a doctor!reader with Harumasa? Imagine he is going to infirmary just to see reader 😔 maybe he pretend to be sick as an excuse just to see reader

➹Just Because I Like You a Lot

✖Asaba HarumasaxFem!doctor Reader

Warning: none just some fluff, not proofread

Note: yea i almost died last week/srs but only my left hand is injured so it's fine. Thank you for waiting i also have another similar request for doctor Reader and I am currently working on it.

The moonlight falls on the papers placed upon your office desk as you go on reading while sipping on your cup of tea with more papers in the piles beside your desk.

You weren't expecting any patients at this hour as you were checking some reports before ending your shift but as the saying goes, Expect the unexpected. So there he was entering your office with a pout on his lips looking beat up.

Your instant response was putting down your cup as you stood up, several thoughts running in your head. Did he get these injuries in a Hollow? Or worse fighting some high level ethereal.

“Who hurt you?” The worried look on your face was obvious as you asked him to sit down to take a look.

“Chief”

.....

“Huh?”

The worried expression was now replaced by confusion. Why would miyabi do that? Of course she should have a reason, those thoughts ended as he spoke up again.

“Well well isn't this embarrassing, the chief and I had a sparring session and now I look like this”

“Man she wasn't playing this time” he murmured under his breath which was pretty audible in the peaceful office. A light giggle broke out your lips as you came to the conclusion on why this had happened.

“Really Miss doc? I came up looking this injured in the night and you are laughing,Won't you at least treat me with care?”

“Pfft, it's just some minor injuries you been through worse asaba but don't worry I'll ask a nurse to fix your bandages”

You were about to make your way to your desk to call upon a nurse when he pulled you back hugging you from the back, his breath fanning over your ears as he mumbled.

“I didn't come all this way for you to push me out, you know how much i hate travelling long distances”

It's true he is lazy like that and it's not like he cannot do this by himself yet he is here asking for your help when he could be home sleeping.

You held his hand which was interlocked around your waist as you faced him.

“Alright, sit back down I'll do it”

He smiled like a kid winning a prize and sat back on the bed watching you move around the office gathering the first aid kit, you came back with the kit and several bandages in your hand placing them on the desk.

“Okay, show me the wounds that have been reopened”

“Do I really need to do all that doc? You already know where it is, can't I just sit here all pretty for you?”

He said as he gave you a teasing smile clearly stating his intentions once again.

You sigh as your hands hover above his his tie first then the shirt buttons undoing them one by one as he quietly indulges you taking it off him with a satisfied smile resting on his until you pulled off his waist and stomach, he lets out a low grunt trying to make it look like it hurt while you just stared at him unamused.

“Can you please be gentle with me doc? I am a really fragile person”

“I am sure no fragile person can charge into hollows like it's nothing but whatever you want”

You checked around his wound and it hasn't been opened which was good. You just need to change the dressing, as you were thinking of changing the dressing your fingers were hovering around his abs, and how could he miss out on a chance like this.

“You like what you see doc? It took a lot of effort so i would like you to parise me more if you wanna” he asked with a slight smirk adorning his lips. You quickly take your hand back tearing your gaze away from him to the box besides.

“Ahem, i was checking the wound” even though what you said was true he surely doesn't mind you checking something else out on him.

You slowly but carefully wrapped the bandages around him and put the box aside giving him space to dress up but it seemed like he didn't want to do that either.

“won't you help me with this doc?” you wish you could dig yourself a hole, his advances were getting too much for you to act nonchalant even though the blush on your face is quite obvious to him and he is enjoying every second of it.

You help him put on his shirt and tie back, whispering quietly under your breath which was clearly audible to him.

“You cannot keep getting away with this” before leaning in to give him a final kiss as you ward him out of your office to pack your stuff to leave with him, you know he is standing outside and he won't go anywhere without you.

[sp1d3rzz]

Pervert!Midoriya

final / pt.3

pt.1 pt.2

WARNING !! : Virginity loss, mean!reader, blowjobs, PiV unprotected, slight dick desc, cum swallowing, cowgirl position, swearing. Lemme know if I missed anything!

Summary : When your grades drop extremely low and leave you with a bad reputation, you decide it's up to that stupid dork Izuku to tutor you. Oh, a maybe ruin his virginity too.

A/N : A long ass wait, I hope you'll forgive me! (＾ｰ^) Love you all, and happy late New Years!!!

Never in a million years would Midoriya ever think that this day would come.

The day when you came to him after class and shoved your paper in his face with a big fat 'F' in the corner, ranting on and on about how much your reputation is at risk when you are getting shitty scores on tests and practically failing every exam.

It seems to go on for about another 30 minutes until you look him in the eyes and tell him not ask, tell him, "You're gonna tutor me so all of my hard work doesn't go for nothing, loser."

He remembers how sharp your eyes were that day when you pressed your pointer finger against his chest and made him swear on how he wouldn't let you fail. Claiming you'd make his life even more of a shit show if he let you down.

So of course, he's frantically nodding as he swears he would never let that happen! Sure, you two have had your differences, but maybe this could fix the relationship you and him had. And if not, he's just glad you're willing to let him keep the already toxic bond you share and not make it any worse.

Ultimately, you both end up at his house, sitting on his strangely clean floor as he explains how each problem is somehow related the next in the most complicated way possible. It twists your brain just right in some inhumanly fashion that you haven't experienced since you actually cared for your education.

One stupid math problem leads to another, and you quickly find yourself getting bored. Your eyes linger on to his pretty pink lips as he blabbers on about some random subject you don't bother to listen to. Each word that leaves his mouth has you a little more fixated on him. It especially leaves you in a trance when he presses his lips together nervously, catching your obvious stare and wondering if he'd done something wrong.

"Is... everything okay?" he speaks up, the hesitation in his voice so obviously showing. You can't help but roll your eyes and snatch the sheet of paper out of his hands, already tired of supposed tutoring. "This is boring!" you slam the paper on the floor, which Midoriya pathetically flinches at. "You can barely get a sentence out without stuttering or avoiding eye contact! Have you even talked to women outside of me?"

He doesn't know why, but your words hit him harder than usual. Sure, he's never been the luckiest with women, let alone have a relationship above friends... but he could if he wanted to! He's doesn't know the lines of unattractive or attractive, but he knows he isn't ugly enough for girls to not even look at him.

It takes him a few seconds of silence to reply, debating on a good comeback. "I-I have... There's plenty of females who I talk to." Even with a lie as obvious as that, he doesn't expect you to burst out into laughter, hands clutching at your stomach as you wheeze and gasp for air.

Sweat beads form on his forehead, and his face goes red with embarrassment. He watches in humiliation as you try and settle yourself down, somehow becoming infatuated with the way yours crinkle with joy, and the way your teeth show brightly to light up your face. Suddenly, he feels his body temperature spiking up, warm from how flushed he is.

Once you finally calm down, your eyes flicker back up to him. He's watching you intently, fingers fidgeting with themselves as he waits for your next word. You find it amusing, really, with how patient he manages to remain with you even after all the tormenting things you do to him. Maybe— just this once... you can be a little more appreciative of his kindness.

Slowly, you pick yourself up from your sitting position and get on all fours to crawl to him. His eyes go wide and he bites his bottom lip, and you can tell he's anticipating what's about to happen. "Y'know.." you begin, "I'd be willing to show you what a woman does when she likes a man."

Midoriyas jaw drops open as you get closer to him. His brain goes mushy when he can feel your warm breath tickle his skin, reminding him just how close you are. His breathing gets heavier, and he swallows down his nervousness.

It suddenly feels like the worlds going to stop on him in any moment when your hand inches towards the layer of fabric above his leg. "What do you m-mean?" But you know he isn't dumb. It's clear he understands your intentions since you've seen the shit he writes and reads about. Who knows what he's watching behind closed doors.

"We're gonna fuck. Or do you not want to?" You state it so bluntly, Midoriya thinks you've gone crazy. Its always been you teasing or making fun him, putting him down and setting a clear boundary between you two. Now here you are, claiming you want to have sex with him!

His eyes shoot down to your hand and then back up to meet yours. Panicking, he decides on blurting out whatever he can think of. "I never said that! It's just that well you caught me off guard and I've never done this sort of thing so–"

"Shut up before I change my mind!" you cut his nervous rambling off irritably. Silencing, he nods his head slowly, afraid of screwing this up any further. He's only seen what happens in the stupid pornos he watches, so he hesitates on what to do. But when he catches a glimpse of your impatient face, he mutters a quiet "sorry" for the wait and quickly tackles his fingers with his waist band to push it off his hips.

And when he does, you eyes widen at the sight of his boner, not expecting him to be as big as he was. It twitches under the thin material of his boxers as you hungrily stare, begging to be freed from its confinement. You don't waste any time, reaching to pull down the front of the fabric. His meaty cock springs up and bounces with release, making you ogle at the sight.

Despite not being a mathematician, you estimate a total length of 5.7 inches and a girth a little below half of that. Long and angry veins lead up to his blushed red tip, which already leaks pre-cum. A small patch of green hair covers below the base, matching the messy patch he has on his head. Naturally, a pool of saliva pools in your mouth as you take in the sight before you.

Midoriya watches you keenly as you admire his length, blushing when you look back up at him. "So this is what you've been hiding from me, huh?" you tease, and he waves his hand in front of his face as he rapidly shakes his head, sputtering out whatever he can to deny or defend your accusation.

While he isn't paying attention to what's happening below him, you lean down to place the flat of your tongue on his tip. Almost instantly, he lets out an unexpected whine and bucks his hips forward, pushing more than just the tip past your lips. The heat of your mouth, overwhelming him, quickly sends him off the edge. Pathetically enough, he might not last as long as he thought he would.

You smirk to yourself at his reaction and press forward, placing your hands on his thighs as you swallow him whole. Your wet mouth coats his dick easily, making it easier to take him. A slutty moan echoes throughout the room, and he quickly slams his own hand against his mouth. His panting escalates through the muffles past his fingers as you bring your head up and down on his cock. Your tongue drags along his base from each bob of your head, memorizing the veins that decorate it.

His hand falls from his mouth and finds its place in the roots of your hair, tangling it between his fingers. "Shit— feels s-so– good!" he whimpers, grinding his hips to the rhythm of your bobbing. The gagging sounds you make when his tip hits the back of your throat makes warmth rush to his face. He swears he's never felt anything better than this.

The hand that's taken place in your hair tightens, and he lets his mouth fall open, only shaky moans and cries leaving him. He finds it incredible how you haven't come up for air yet, only breathing through your nose like a professional. And the way you take his whole cock like it's nothing proves his point.

It isn't long before he can feel himself about to cum, lengthy moans slipping out as he grinds lazily into your mouth. You take notice of this, sloppily finishing him off and picking up the pace in which you take him. "I'm gonna— fuck!" He pushes your head down to where your nose brushes his pubes, ramming his cock deep enough to knock past your uvula. His eyes close tightly as his warm cum washes into your mouth, clenching his teeth roughly together.

Once his fingers untangle from the crown of your head, you quickly swallow his cum and push yourself up to breath. As soon as you're able to sit up, you gasp and take in as much air through your lungs as you can. "How the hell do you–" cough "cum so much.." You complain, shooting him a glare. Midoriya is practically passed out, leaning back with his cock slapped against his abs as he pants tiredly.

" 'M sorry," He whines, peaking one eye open to look at you. Even with droplets of his cum on your face and now messed up hair, he still thinks you look breathtakingly gorgeous. "It just felt so good and I couldn't help myself. Are you... o-okay?"

Scoffing at his worries, you push a loose piece of hair behind your ear and rest your eyes for a moment. "Fine. At least you gave me somewhat of a warning." And he might be overly exhausted from the earth shattering orgasm he just had, but he swears he can see a small tint of blush form on your cheeks. The thought of you having somewhat of an attraction to him makes his stomach go weak. Can such a thing really happen?

When he goes to close his eyes again and take a breath, he hears you stand up and begin removing something from your body. His eyes open up out of curiosity and he's met with you removing your pants and underwear. "W-wait, I thought we were done—" he pauses when he catches sight of your pretty pussy, slowly being revealed as you strip free from your panties.

Heat rushes to his face again as you walk back over to him and sit yourself down with two knees outside of his legs. He doesn't even notice his cock spring back up to life as his eyes take you in. "I said I was going to fuck you, didn't I?" The tease in your voice has him growing in desperate need of you once again, and he can do nothing but nod and let you take the lead.

You scoff and shake your head, hand grabbing his dick below you and aligning it with your hole. Midoriya sucks in a breath and watches as you let your hips slowly fall down so his tip brushes your clit. "Shit–" you shakily breathe, grinding your hips back and forth to swipe your pussy along his cock.

He whimpers needingly as his hands find the fat of your hips, giving him something to hold onto. You do the same, resting your arms around his neck when you finally slip his leaking tip into your warmth. The both of you moan in sync from the pleasure, pressing your bodies closer together. "I'm not sure it'll... fit." You admit embarrassingly, biting the inside of your lip as you cautiously lower yourself.

He anxiously waits for you to fuck him, so he can finally feel the walls of your cunt. And when you bring your body down and let him stretch you out, he shamefully cries out your name, pleading for you to warm his cock. "Needa' feel you! Please, I need to feel more!". You grumble back a snarky comment, but decide to get it over with.

The weight of your ass hits his thighs and you let out a lewd moan, similar to one of the porn star Midoriya likes so much. His girthy length splits you open entirely, hitting your cervix harsh enough to leave bruising for at least the next few days. He impatiently rolls his hips into you, whimpering random nonsense to try and keep himself from finishing too quick.

As soon as you adjust to his size enough to keep going, you begin to drag yourself up and down on him. The heat of your pussy invites him in sensibly, gummy walls being stretched each time you bounce on him. It doesn't go unnoticed by how wet you are already, letting him glide in and out of you easily. "You're so— fuck.." His thick fingers squeeze your skin, bound to leave marks you'll see in the morning. "So so so so good." He whines, face flush with euphoria.

You don't hesitate to start riding him faster, tits bouncing against him under your shirt. The familiar feeling of his stomach tightening approaches him once more, making him groan. Your skin meets his as you push your ass up and down on him, feeling your own orgasm begin to rise in you.

Sweat forms one body, exhaust briefly catching up to you as you ride him like your life depends on it. His cocks plunges into you so sweetly, making you unable to hold back a single moan as it hits the spongey wall in you. It has you gasping with each puncture it deals on you.

The whole room is filled with slutty sounds and wet slapping, seemingly like a porn video. It feeds into the sex perfectly, only bringing him to finish sooner. "Im so close! Please— don't stop!" Midoriya gasps, shutting his eyes tightly to let the feeling of pleasure take over him.

You take notice of the way his cock twitches inside of you, begging to spill his cum into your walls. Digging your fingers into his shoulder, you let out a string of moans before letting your orgasm rush through you and make you cum riding him.

Pants leave your lips as you grind yourself on him, rocking out the pleasure on his body to ease yours before pushing your sore knees up slightly so his dick can be free from your pussy. It separates from you with a small pop! sound, leaving you empty once again. The sight of him jerking his hips into the air as his cum spurts from his slit and onto his chest with a somehow cutely fucked out face, leave you wishing for another round.

The atmosphere seems to settle down after awhile as the two of you rest against each other, calming yourselves down from your session. "You're a pathetic fucking pervert, you weirdo." You smack his shoulder with your remaining strength, mumbling curses on your breath.

But before he can say anything, or make some half ass witted reply, your soft snoring cuts him off. Midoriya can't help himself when he softly smiles, because truthfully, he knows deep down you care for him.

[midnighthazee]

Greenridge ABO Series

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GREENIES!!! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday! Sorry this took so long to post!

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Warnings: explicit language, mentions of blood, violence, mentions of previous fire/house destruction

WC: 3659

Chapter 22

It was late morning when you woke, the faint sound of conversation and laughter coming from the other side of the door. You blinked your eyes open, the curtains pulled shut to keep the harsh light from waking you. 

You roll over, muscles aching in protest. Groaning slightly, the memories of yesterday come rushing back. You were so sore in the best way. 

Wait, what time is it? You question. 

Leaning up to see the alarm clock, you realize it's just after eleven. Your eyes go wide. Did you sleep a whole day?

You push the covers off, ignoring the soreness and standing. Your legs were wobbly as you walked, making your way into the bathroom. Your neck was a little stiff, the ache all the way into your tissues from Chan's mark.

When did I get into Chan's room? You think, sitting on the toilet.

As you wash your hands, you see the mess that is your hair. You should probably locate a brush soon, but for now, you attempt finger combing. You notice the fresh mark, turning to see it fully and admiring.

Once you feel your hair looks less ‘i stuck my fork in a socket’, you retreat to the closet. You pick out some boxers and a shirt from Chan’s collection and throw them on. 

“Morning.” A male voice whispered. 

You jumped. “Don't sneak up on me like that!” 

Chan chuckled. “I heard you moving around. How you feeling?”

“Good.” You say with a smile, leaning into his chest. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you close as he kisses the top of your head.

“No pain?”

“A little.” you shrug.

Chan moves your hair from his mark and looks at it.

“It’s healing nicely.” he smiles.

You smile up at him in return, kissing his lips. He holds you flush with him, kissing you deeply as your mark tingles. Suddenly, you pull back, looking up at him.

“What?” he asks.

“I don’t smell your rut.” you note.

“Yeah. It’s weird…I woke up and was fine.”

“Is it because of the mark?”

“That’s what I’m thinking.” Chan shrugs. “You hungry?”

“Extremely.”

Chan laughed. “I bet. You haven’t eaten in over a day. We need to feed you.”

You followed Chan out of the room and into the kitchen where he fixed you a plate of breakfast foods from earlier that morning. Minho came from behind, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on the shoulder on the side of his mark. You lean back into him, and he squeezes you.

“You’re officially in the pack now.” He comments.

“I wasn’t already?” You scoff.

“Not technically.” Minho smirks.

“Rude!” you push him off you as the others come into the living room.

“You’re awake!” Hyunjin states as if surprised. You swear you see his shoulders drop a little as he makes a beeline for you.

He comes over, arms coming around your waist as he leans his head down into your neck, inhaling your scent. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him close. The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes -  you could feel he needed it. Chan smiled, knowing that Hyunjin could finally relax now. Then he sat your food on the table before he went into the living room with the others.

“You okay, Hyunjie?” you whisper to him.

He pulls back, looking in your eyes. “Yeah, I was just worried…”

“Worried about what?”

“You. Chan can be…rough when he’s in rut.”

You caressed Hyunjin’s cheek.

“He couldn’t be worse than any of the Nykos…” you half-smiled.

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything.

You kiss his soft lips, melting into him as an attempt to comfort him. He smiles, blushing. You pull him over to the table and sit him down in front of your food. He gives you a confused look but you just sit on his lap and begin eating. Usually Felix was the one to overthink and stress about little things. So you just did what you would do with Felix to reassure him you were okay. 

It must be working because he wraps his arms around your waist, laying his head on your back. Felix and Jeongin came into the kitchen and you all started talking. You were joking and laughing together while you finished eating. And when you were done, you all moved into the living room. 

“Where’s Chan and Minho?” you asked, noticing they were gone.

“Outside talking.” Jisung didn’t look up from his game as he pointed to the front yard.

You looked outside, seeing Chan pace the front yard as Minho talked.

“What are they talking about?” you ask.

The boys exchanged glances before Changbin sighed. 

“Reed is still in the wind. Police haven’t tracked him down yet.” he said.

You stay silent, growing angry that he’s still wandering free. You think back on what he said - how he threatened to kill Chan.

“He said he would kill Chan…” you say softly, staring at the floor.

“What?” Seungmin asked.

“Because I killed one of his men and he couldn’t take me away because the police showed up. He threatened to kill Chan in retaliation.”

Changbin rubbed your back. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. He’s just…an evil man.”

You offer him a small smile before standing and going to the front door. You slowly open it, Minho and Chan going quiet. They both smile at you.

“Hey, baby.” Chan says, beckoning you over.

“How you feeling, Kitten?” Minho asks as you sit down next to Chan.

“Good. Sore, but good.” you say. “What were you talking about?”

“How to kill Reed.” Minho deadpanned.

Chan glared at him.

“What? I’m not gonna lie to her.” Minho said defensively.

“Better you kill him before he kills you.” you note, meeting their gazes. “He wants you dead, Chan.”

“Of course he does. I have everything he wants.” Chan smiles, bumping his shoulder into you playfully. 

You blush. “I’m serious.”

“I know, baby. But it’s eight against one. He’s outnumbered.” Chan says.

“He has so many packs under his control. He outnumbers us.” you say.

“You’re assuming they will still follow him after what he’s accused of. There’s a manhunt for him right now. He’s probably lost so much respect.” Chan comforted you by wrapping an arm around you.

A breeze blew by, your hair flowing and a shiver going down your spine. It was a bit nippy outside, the fall air biting at your exposed skin.

“It’s cold, you should have shoes and a jacket on before you catch a cold.” Minho lectures.

“I’m fine.” you glare at him.

“You’re shivering…” he says, glaring right back.

“Come on. We will go inside with you.” Chan says, standing up.

You follow them back inside, sitting in the living room. Chan draped a blanket over the two of you, pulling you into his side. He’s wanted this for so long that he was going to take advantage of every second.

“Do you have to go to the house today?” you ask.

“Yeah. And then I have to go pick out a backsplash.” Chan rolls his eyes.

“Backsplash?” you question.

“The tile above the kitchen counters,” he explained.

“I wanna go!”

“Let y/n pick the backsplash.” Jisung suggested.

“Can I?” You ask eagerly.

Chan chuckles. “Sure.”

“I’m just happy to not have those ugly cabinets. I hated those things.” Minho muttered as he got up to get his shoes.

You had gotten dressed and everyone piled into the suv to head out to the home improvement store. It had been a while since you were out in the world like a normal member of society. You didn’t realize how much you had missed it until now.

The gentleman behind the counter set out a handful of options in front of you and you studied them all. There were neutral ones and bold colored ones. There were also different shapes and textures. As you admired the options, you were overwhelmed by all the pretty ones. How could you choose just one?

You pushed your least favorite two away, and the gentleman returned them back to his collection. Then you tilted your head to each side, squinting an eye and scanning the rest with a very detailed eye. The gentleman was clearly annoyed that you were taking so long but the boys thought you were adorable. The way your brows furrowed as you concentrated, your tongue peeking out the side of your mouth.

“I like these two best.” you finally decide.

“Well you can only pick one.” Chan rubs your back as he looks them over.

“Minho, Felix. Which one do you guys like?” you ask.

“Uh uh, Kitten. It’s your pick.” Minho winked.

You swear you hear the gentleman groan from the shelf of samples he stood in front of as he placed the rejects back. He walked back over, a forced smile on his features. 

You finally pick a green subway tile, thinking it fits the pack best. It would go well with all the warm wood tones currently in the house. The boys approved, also agreeing it would look better than the tan tiling they had before. Minho showed you the newer cabinets they were getting in the kitchen as well, which you loved. They had a more modern look and apparently were slow close because he was “tired of Changbin slamming the drawers”.

After tile shopping, you all headed over to the house. You were nervous to see what damage had occurred, but held Chan’s hand as he led you inside, directing you on where to walk. You took in the fire and water damage, the living room and kitchen barely recognizable. There were industrial fans scattered around the house, making it really loud.

“Oh wow.” you mumbled.

You couldn’t help the twinge of guilt that threatened to make you cry as you took everything in. You knew it wasn’t your fault - it was Reed’s - but he did this because of you.

“The fans are to dry up any remaining moisture.” Felix informed, elevating his voice over the sound.

“It’s more than I thought…” you say.

“Most of the house was unaffected by the fire. Just the main level and a bit of the basement from the explosions.” Seungmin added.

“What was it?” 

“The police believe there were a few grenades thrown into the windows simultaneously. They exploded, creating a fire and…” Seungmin gestured to the surroundings, shaking his head.

“Your room is still intact so if you want to get anything.” Changbin said.

“Can I walk up there?” you ask, taking in the charred staircase with no railing. 

“Just be careful.” Changbin says with a nod.

“I’ll walk with you. I want to get my art supplies.” Hyunjin says.

The two of you walk up the stairs carefully, Hyunjin on the outer side. You watch your step, the wood creaking and splitting underneath you. You grip Hyunjin’s arm, stopping. 

“It’s alright. Just keep moving.” Hyunjin comforts.

The remaining carpet running down the middle was frayed and burnt. The whole house smelled like a campfire honestly. You hold Hyunjin’s hand as you walk, more in fear he would fall off the side than you tripping. At the top you relaxed, letting out the breath you were holding and looked over the melted banister. The living room below was a mess of burnt furniture and soot. A huge dumpster could be seen in the backyard, pieces of wood and furniture thrown inside. The fireplace was still standing, but most of the walls were removed on the two lower levels. At least the roof was still intact.

“The builders tore down most of the walls to rebuild them. It’s going to be a few weeks before they finish. So pack a bag of your stuff.” Hyunjin says, heading to his room.

You nodded, watching him go down the hallway opposite from yours. Being upstairs was slightly creepy, even more so alone. You were on edge as if the floor would just collapse beneath you.

Maybe I should go with him and then he can come with me. You thought before shaking your head.

It would be faster to go at the same time - and less time you would have to spend on the upper level. You hear the others, sifting through the scraps of wood below as you walk down the hall. At least the rooms weren’t destroyed.

You walk into your room, stopping in the doorway to admire your nest. You felt your shoulders relax instantly, walking to your bed and falling onto it. It still smelled like you…but with smoke now mixed in. You wrinkle your nose, rolling onto your back. 

You hear your door click shut and lift your head. 

“What the-” you ask, standing up immediately. “Hudson?”

“It’s just me. Reed isn’t here.” He whispered, holding his hands up in surrender.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Wanted to see the damage I caused.” he looked down, dropping his hands.

“You could have prevented this.” you remind him.

“If I wanted to prevent this, I would have had to sneak you out of the party and hand you over before he got here.” Hudson said. “And you wouldn’t have come with me willingly.”

“Fair point.” you cross your arms. “You still should have told me. We could have evacuated the house. People died because you were too chicken to tell us what Reed was planning.” 

You were nearly yelling now. He hung his head.

“People died because of you. Innocent people.” you continue.

“I know…” he says, barely audible.

You glare, shifting your stance. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I wouldn’t have come if I knew you would be here.”

You don’t say anything for a beat.

“Y/n, did you get-” Hyunjin says, opening the door and bumping into Hudson.

You see his eyes flash red, dropping his bag of art supplies and growling. He lunges at Hudson, pushing him back into your dresser with a bang. You wince, watching as he punches Hudson in the face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He seethes, holding him up by the collar.

“I, uh-” Hudson didn’t know what to say, not that anything would save him right now.

Hyunjin throws him down to the ground as Chan walks in. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” He growls through gritted teeth, looking at you.

You wince as you feel his anger. The anger in the room was suffocating and you wanted to curl up away from it all. You knew he wasn’t mad at you, but it didn’t quell your urge to flee. 

“He, uh..was j-just checking the h-house.” you stutter.

Hyunjin was on top of him, beating him to a pulp. Chan moves to pull him off, Changbin and Minho also come into the room. The rest of the pack stood at the door.

“Hyun…enough. Hyunjin, Stop!” He commands. 

Hyunjin stops, panting heavily as he looks down at Hudson’s bloody face. One of his eyes was already swollen shut, his lip busted. His nose was unnaturally bent and his cheekbone was probably broken too. You look away, stomach churning.

Hyunjin moves off your brother, Changbin and Minho picking him up and holding him up for Chan to speak with.

“Checking the house, huh? Or were you trying to steal? Maybe bask in all the destruction you caused?” Chan asked Hudson angrily. 

“No…” Hudson grumbled before spitting blood to the side. “I came to see how bad it was. How bad Reed had hurt your family.”

“Mmm. And where is your brother?” The pure disdain in Chan’s voice was palpable.

“I don’t know. I didn’t go with him.”

Chan punches him in the gut, making him groan.

“Keep lying to me and I’ll cut your tongue out.” Chan seethed.

You couldn’t stomach the harsh words or the tense atmosphere any longer so you left the room, heading down to the other end and finding comfort in Jeongin’s room. Felix followed you, wanting to comfort you while the others handled the intruder.

“I’ll ask once more….” Chan continued, pacing your room. “Where is your brother?”

“He’s staying at a motel not far from here. He didn’t go back north for fear he would be found by the police. I left him a few days ago so he could be gone by now.” Hudson confessed.

Chan squinted his eyes, studying Hudson before stepping back. “Here’s what we are going to do, Hudson. You’re going to help us take down your brother. And if you don’t…I’ll kill you myself.”

“If I help, can I see y/n?”

“See her? You just saw her.” Minho retorts.

“I mean…regularly. I know I lost my chance to ever be a part of the pack, but can I visit?” 

“Frankly, I don’t want you around. I don’t want her to have anything to do with you.” Chan states with zero sincerity. “But that’s up to her. Not us.”

Hudson nods. “I’ll help you.”

“Smart man. Now you’re using that brain of yours.” Chan pats his cheek demeaningly.

Changbin and Minho release him, stepping away. 

“What do you want me to do?” Hudson asks, slightly hunched over without their support.

“I want you to tell me what you know about your brother. His weaknesses, allies, secrets…anything I can use to destroy him.”

“Why not just turn him into the police?”

“Because a death sentence isn’t enough justice. He needs to suffer for all he’s done.”

After hours of sifting through Hudson’s brain, Chan felt they had enough to make moves on Reed. His plan was to go to the motel and drag him out, bringing him back to the house and beating him close to death.

“Chan…you’re on probation.” you remind him. “If you accidentally kill him…”

“I won’t.” he says, leveling his eyes with yours as his hands rest on your arms. “I promise.”

Chan makes his way down the steps and you look to Minho, silently pleading for him to do something. Minho sighs heavily, following after Chan and catching up to him at the car.

“You coming?” Chan asks.

“Y/n’s right. This is too risky. If we get involved, they might still find a way to charge you. Even if you don’t kill him.”

“You want this asshole to escape the country and be a fugitive living his best life on some remote island?” Chan asked, now in Minho’s face.

“No, of course not. But emotions are high right now and I think we need to slow down and do this the right way.” Minho explains.

Chan clenches his jaw, looking off to the side.

“We just got you back…” Minho whispers.

Chan looks back into his eyes, his harsh gaze softening. He pulls Minho into a hug and rubs his back. “Fine.”

“Let’s just let the cops handle this. You and y/n can testify against the death penalty and he can rot in a max prison somewhere.” Minho suggests.

“I just don’t like the idea he could be released or escape.”

“Me either, but we can’t let that push us to do the wrong thing.” Minho rubs the back of Chan’s head.

“What would I do without you? Without your words of wisdom and sane brain?” Chan smiles.

“You’d probably still be in that cell...” They laugh lightly. “But I learned it from you.”

Chan kisses Minho deeply. “Let’s call the cops then.”

At the motel, the pack was in the car, parked off to the side. Hudson was at the front desk, flanked by two officers. Once he was told the room, he informed the cops who made their way up to the second floor and stood outside his door. They knocked before kicking down the door.

You watched, heart pounding as you held Jeongin and Seungmin’s hands. Not too long after, the cops exited the room, shaking their heads as they yelled to the cops below.

“It’s clear. He’s not here.” the cop yelled.

Hudson squatted down, hands running through his hair.

“He left in a hurry. The room’s a mess and there’s no personal stuff left behind.” the cop told Hudson.

Chan walked over, arms raised at Hudson as if asking him what happened.

“I’ll call him. See if he answers.” Hudson says.

Hudson steps off to the side, calling Reed’s number. He calls five times before he finally answers.

“What the fuck do you want? You’re like a cockroach.”

“Where are you?”

“Why do you care? You said you were done with me if I recall correctly.”

“I want my sister. I want my family. So I’ll work with you.”

“Really? And what changed your mind?”

“It’s lonely on the road.”

“I bet you are.” He grunts as if amused.

“Reed, please.”

“I’ll think about it. Stay by your phone.” Reed hangs up.

Hudson groans.

“So we wait. He tells you where he is and we get this son of a bitch.” Minho says with a shrug.

“What if it’s a trap?” Hudson asks.

“Why would it be a trap?” Chan asks.

“If he saw all this…he could be setting me up or something.”

“A chance we will have to take.” the officer says.

Hudson swallows.

“Minho, have Changbin take the others home. We will see this through.”

“No.” you say, having overheard him. “We are staying.”

“Y/n, I don’t want you getting hurt or caught in the crossfire. I won’t be able to live with myself…”

“Chan… if there’s anything I learned from the movies I’ve watched with Felix and Jisung…it’s that the female is more useful than the guys ever give her credit for. I know you love and want to protect me, but this is my brother. I’m helping.”

“You can confidently say he won’t hurt or kill you if it comes between you or him?” Chan challenges.

You swallow. “No. But I will take the risk.”

Chan holds your gaze for a moment before caving. “Fine.”

TAGLIST:

@estella-novella @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @butterflydemons @readr1221 @gaby105-skz @notevenheretbh1 @bah2004 @sinfulfic @bowsnbang @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @dreamerwasfound @motheraiya55 @m00njinnie @writeuntilthebitterend @jutdwae-flower @staytinyluv @emmxxsworld @galaxy4489 @wolfo2027 @iknow-uknow-leeknow @thatgirlangelb @fr34k4c1dr41n @stwq2349 @rylea08 @sang-09 @scarlet789 @hxnnielk @thecutiepieme @sillygoosegoose @ihttinniee @kaleigh-2002 @stvrrylove @tenshimara @chanshugsaretherapy @xgridx

Shout out to my lovely beta @cherry-erii

[amuseintime]

Shattering Realization (Pt 2)

Star Souls AU

After Siffrin is rendered comatose, well, they have to keep his apparently not human form somewhere… So why not their tent? Isabeau can be normal about this, surely… (he cannot)

<< PREV || NEXT >>

Isabeau tried to settle into his and Siffrin’s tent once night came, he really did! But it was easier said than done, especially with so much to think about.

Funny how something that had become as mundane as a Sadness attack could throw everything into chaos! Bonnie was taking it the worst of all of them, not at all helped that no one had answers. What was Siffrin? Would he be okay? When was he going to start moving again? Was he going to start moving again? Why didn’t he have a pulse? Did that mean he was dead? Had he ever been alive? All great questions that no one had answers for. The best anyone could think to do was try to keep them from looking at…

The body? The doll? Siffrin? No one could quite decide how to refer to the still and silent form that usually housed their friend.

Odile wanted to inspect it, but she conceded to waiting until Siffrin could consent. Whether he ended up having anything to look at or was literally built like a child’s doll, whether he was aware and unable to respond or completely unconscious, it was still messed up to strip someone and look at their body when they couldn’t say no—at least outside of medical emergencies, but even if this counted as one, they had no idea what they were doing so that was senseless.

Mirabelle seemed to be taking it the best, shockingly? Apparently she loved books like this! Which was great! At least one of them should be able to help, and he’s glad that someone actually held Siffrin’s hand as… whatever happened to him happened.

Isabeau still didn’t really understand. The best he could do was stop Bonnie and Odile from staring and obsessing over Siffrin’s form…

And now, as he rolled over to look at the little body tucked into a sleeping bag, he couldn’t help but feel like a hypocrite. Why did he ever think this was a good idea? Was this even okay? Sure, they did it every night, and it wasn’t like he was doing anything—they weren’t even sharing a sleeping bag! But it still felt weirdly violating. His hands still felt cold from tucking Siffrin in, from having to be ever-so-careful with joints that suddenly seemed so fragile and arms make of something more brittle than flesh. The idea of accidentally breaking him was terrifying—what if that pushed him over some unseen edge and he couldn’t fix it this time? Could Siffrin spill out of himself like pouring water from a glass?—but what was worse was just…

Doing it.

Moving Siffrin’s body for him. Forcing it to bend and pose, even if it was just to keep him safe and, hopefully, comfortable.

Even worse, he could imagine an appeal to it, in another context. What little bits he saw of Siffrin’s body were inhumanly pretty. Pearly, smooth not-skin, slender proportions, an impressive amount of articulation with joints that Isabeau, at least, found strangely appealing, and even without the subtle glow his hair usually had, it was so soft. He understood why Siffrin would feel a need to hide it, but it seemed a shame…

His stomach curled and he turned away. There was something wrong with him, admiring the craftsmanship while Siffrin was unconscious because he got his head shattered.

Any growing heat in him was quashed. That was for the best.

…

What was he even doing? Should he be in here? Or would it be weirder to leave him? How many times had they shared a tent or been back to back on a bed with no more than a pillow or some sheets between them—Siffrin didn’t like being touched, another thing to make this situation worse. He was basically just sleeping, right? Hopefully? This shouldn’t have been any weirder than every other time they shared a tent, but…

“… hey. Sif. Siffrin. Sifarooni? Um… I don’t know if you can hear me at all, or if you’re awake or asleep. Do you sleep? Or have you just been pretending this whole time? I, uh… hope not. That’d get really boring…”

What was he even doing?

“But, uh… I hope you didn’t mind me tucking you in. I just want you to be comfortable, and we couldn’t just leave you kneeling in the field! So I hope? This is? Okay?”

…

“Sorry. I’m being weird. And, uh, I know you can’t really talk back right now. If you can hear me. At all???”

He shifted back over to look at them, to stare at the back of their head. Even in the dark of night, he could make out the darkless shades, though not half as well as usual.

“… Sorry. I’m being weird. Don’t worry about it. Just know that I still care, okay?” He paused, then sighed. There’d be no answers tonight. “Sleep well, Siffrin. See you in the morning, hopefully.”

———

I prefer tea, but buy me a Kofi?

[gotham-adrenaline]

The Importance of Abnormalities

Author note: Really pushing my autism/alexithymia on Tim this time but I cannot be contained- not beta read to even heavily proofread cause it is past 1am...

Pairing: Tim Drake x Kon-El/Conner Kent

Word Count: 1300

Warnings: nothing really though Tim thinks a lot about feeling "different" than the rest of the world (very hinting towards autism)

Look, Tim wasn’t stupid. It would be impossible by now to be unaware of his own… eccentricities.

Not many people stalked and then blackmailed their way into a family of vigilantes to essentially babysit a grown man running around every night in a bat costume. He was completely aware he was a bit outside the norm.

But most days it was easy to forget that everyone around him didn’t function like he did. Life was busy, he was busy, and his family wasn’t exactly known for self-analysis and being introspective of their feelings.

Today was not most days.

It started firmly in “most days” territory, with a nap before breakfast and Damian accusing him of trying to “lure Titus into a life of debauchery” when Tim attempted to slip the dog some bacon on his way down the cave. He had only just opened up a file when, immediately, as if it had sensed Tim trying to be productive, his phone began to ring.

Kon calling to ask for a bit of help with a stealth mission was not an everyday occurrence, but Tim pushing down the swell of warmth in his chest absolutely was a regularity (Kon called him, Kon could have contacted so many people but he chose Tim to help, trusts Tim even after everything Tim’s done-), so Tim could ignore the disruption to his routine and suit up so Kon could come get him.

The mission went well, really well actually, which could be considered odd with their track record but by the time Tim and Kon had finished, he was tired enough to disregard that and let Kon fly to the nearest safe house for them to crash in for the night.

The safe house only having one bed was somewhat standard too, and yet that’s where everything seemed to get weird.

Kon showered first and was already curled up in the bed by the time Tim slipped out of the bathroom, hair wet enough it would be a nightmare to fix tomorrow if he went to sleep now… but that was a future Tim problem. Present Tim was busy very pointedly not looking at how adorable Kon looked buried under the covers (he always bundles himself up even though he can’t get cold, just his eyes and hair peeking out and it makes Tim's chest a bit too tight). So he grabs himself a blanket and gets ready to curl up in an armchair to sleep for at least 10 hours when Kon, voice soft in a way to Tim can only describe as “safe”, breaks Tim’s worldview like it’s nothing.

“Hurry up and get in bed, it’s cold.”

And that is not how this usually goes.

Stranger yet is that Kon doesn’t get cold, and Kon knows that Tim knows that, which means that Kon is concerned about Tim getting cold, wants Tim curled up in bed with him and oh god his heart is racing, there is no way Kon hasn’t noticed-

Kon shuffled a bit around behind him and Tim turned before he could stop himself, taking in the sight of the clone sitting up partially and blinking at Tim like he’s the one being strange here when once he’s being completely normal.

“Tim,” Kon has this little smile like Tim is the one being cute and maybe a little ridiculous when he most definitely was not- “Come on, seriously, I’m tired.”

And when Tim didn’t move, Kon’s smile slipped away, and no no that was not allowed-

“I- if you’re okay with that, obviously. Don’t wanna freak you out.”

And oh, it was way too late for that, but Kon looked nervous and Tim could fix that. He was sliding under the blankets before his brain realized his body moved.

Kon settled back down onto the bed and stared at him in a way that made Tim wonder if he’d learned mind reading recently, or worse if Tim’s thoughts were written all over his face, if his heart rate gave away how much he wanted to curl up as close to Kon as he could and not move until he was physically forced away-

And maybe somehow Kon had known (or maybe Kon wanted it as bad as Tim had) because he reached out slowly, giving Tim enough time to move away before pulling Tim into his chest and that was all the permission Tim needed.

Pushing his face into the curve of Kon’s neck, Tim went completely slack in Kon’s arms. The clone gently rubbed his hand on Tim’s back, and god Tim’s muscles must’ve disintegrated or something, Tim is a detective so he should really look into that- and yet Batman could walk into this room right now with an assault rifle and stripper boots and he probably wouldn’t even twitch.

“All good?” Kon is using that safe voice again, which sounds even nicer up close, his chest rumbling under Tim’s hands.

And Tim knows he’s different, okay? He knows, because he spends most of his days neutral to most of life and apathetic at worst. Sometimes he just can’t connect to things in the way everyone else seems to so simply, can’t summon the emotions the world wields as easily as breathing. He has to monitor his face to make sure he doesn’t ruin a new Wayne Enterprises contract or scare a victim on a crime scene.

He feels emotions, he’s still human, but it’s hard enough to know what he’s feeling and even harder to make sure everyone else can identify the emotion correctly when his facial expressions don’t ever seem to display them naturally.

But this? This is easy. Loving Kon was so natural to him that it sometimes hurt.

There hadn’t been any second-guessing in years, not since he first identified the feeling pushing at his rib cage in a desperate bid to get out, and that love had only grown, a hungry creature that Kon often unknowingly fed.

People always make love seem so gentle and Tim could relate to that too, sometimes. When it feels like laying in the sun in the backyard of the manor or taking a warm shower after a good workout.

But so often, Tim’s love was just so… forceful.

He had nearly destroyed himself in his attempts to satisfy his parents, stalked Batman and Robin for years and threw away what was left of his childhood to save his city and Batman himself (because he was too late to save Robin and he knew he could have done more-), put himself into harm's way time and time again for his friends, searched the whole globe and manipulated the League of Assaains to find Bruce-

And he’d never want to make Kon uncomfortable, to scare him, but sometimes he felt as if he’d crack the whole planet open if Kon truly needed him to. Would take the very air out of his lungs if Kon needed the oxygen.

When Tim loved, he loved hard.

Tim knew he wasn’t normal. He just couldn’t find himself to care if it meant loving Kon like this.

And since Kon asked and now that he’s thinking about it, he was all good right now. Tim sighed into Kon’s neck sleepily.

“Yeah.”

Kon’s arm around his back tightened. It felt like a shield from the rest of the world and he let out a breath that felt far too controlled, something that Tim would read more into if he had any brain space left for anything other than being warm and safe and happy and-

“Good.”

And that was the last thing Tim heard before drifting off to sleep.

[okasuka]

Damian wayne x Y/N - fractured lines.

The Batcave hummed softly with the echoes of computers whirring and the occasional clinking of tools. Damian stood near the weapon rack, methodically checking his batarangs. He cast a glance over his shoulder as you tightened your gloves and adjusted your utility belt.

“Are you ready yet, Y/N? You’re slower than Grayson,” he teased, his usual gruffness softening at the sight of you.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t look up. “Give me a second, Damian. Not everyone wakes up and chooses perfection every day like you.”

His lips twitched into a smirk, but his sharp eyes caught something that made him pause. A thin crack ran along the side of your suit, near the ribcage. He frowned.

“Y/N,” he called, his tone suddenly serious.

You froze, instantly recognizing that tone. Turning to him, you saw his gaze fixed on your torso.

“What?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

He walked toward you, his emerald eyes narrowing. “Your suit. It’s damaged.”

“Oh, that?” You waved him off. “Just a scratch from last night’s mission. No big deal.”

His frown deepened. “A scratch? That’s not a scratch, Y/N. That’s structural damage. It could compromise your protection during patrol.”

You shrugged, ignoring the sharp sting that radiated from your side as you moved. “I’ll be fine, Damian. It’s not that bad.”

But Damian wasn’t convinced. He crossed his arms, blocking your path to the Batmobile. “You’ve been wincing since last night. I’ve noticed.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was cold, cutting through your attempted deflection.

You sighed, the weight of his stare making you squirm. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, okay? Let’s just go.”

He didn’t budge. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes scanning you with a mix of concern and irritation. Before you could stop him, he reached out and gently prodded the area near the crack in your suit.

You hissed in pain, jerking away.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low but laced with anger. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s just a cut, Damian!” you snapped, finally losing your patience. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning. I’ve dealt with worse.”

His jaw clenched. “A cut? How bad?”

You didn’t answer, and that was enough for him to pull you toward the medical bay.

“Hey! I’m fine!” you protested, but his grip was firm.

“Alfred,” Damian called as the elderly butler appeared, his expression calm but curious. “She’s injured. Check her.”

“I don’t need to be checked!” you argued, trying to pull away.

“You’re being reckless,” Damian shot back, glaring at you.

“And you’re being a control freak!”

Alfred, ever the mediator, stepped between the two of you. “Now, now, let’s not argue. Miss Y/N, please sit.”

Grumbling, you obeyed, wincing as Alfred carefully peeled back the damaged section of your suit. The sight made Damian’s eyes widen. A deep, jagged cut ran along your torso, red and angry.

“Good heavens, child,” Alfred muttered, immediately gathering supplies. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You looked away, embarrassed. “It wasn’t that bad…”

“Not that bad?” Damian’s voice was sharp, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You’ve been walking around with that and didn’t think to tell anyone?”

“I didn’t want to bother anyone,” you muttered, feeling small under his gaze.

“Bother—Y/N, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” His voice rose slightly, frustration bubbling over. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? What if it got infected? What if you made it worse during patrol?”

“I can take care of myself!” you shot back, tears of frustration pricking your eyes.

“Clearly not!” he snapped. “You’re impulsive and reckless, and one day it’s going to get you killed!”

His words stung, and your chest tightened. “Why do you even care, Damian?”

The room fell silent. Even Alfred paused, his gaze flicking between the two of you.

Damian’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His face softened for a brief moment before he turned away, his fists still clenched.

“I care because I can’t… I can’t lose you,” he finally muttered, his voice quieter now, laced with vulnerability that caught you off guard.

You blinked, the sting of tears forgotten as you processed his words. “What?”

Damian still didn’t look at you, his jaw tight as if he regretted speaking. “You’re reckless, Y/N. And it terrifies me because I…” He exhaled sharply, struggling to find the right words. “You matter to me, okay? More than I’d like to admit.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Damian Wayne, of all people, just confessed—albeit indirectly—that he cared about you.

Alfred, sensing the emotional weight in the air, cleared his throat gently. “If I may interject, Master Damian, perhaps we should focus on treating Miss Y/N before delving into… other matters.”

Damian nodded stiffly, stepping aside but still glowering. “Fix her up, Alfred. And she’s not going on patrol tonight.”

“Excuse me?” you said, snapping out of your daze.

“You heard me,” Damian said, crossing his arms again. “You’re injured. You’re staying here to recover.”

“I don’t need to stay back!” you argued, wincing as Alfred dabbed antiseptic onto the cut.

“Clearly, you do,” Damian shot back. “If you can’t take care of yourself, someone has to.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Damian!”

“Then stop acting like a child!” he retorted, his voice rising.

You glared at him, hurt and anger swirling in your chest. “You don’t get to call me stupid and then act like you’re doing me a favor by caring, Damian!”

He flinched at your words but quickly masked it with a scowl. “I wouldn’t have to call you stupid if you weren’t being so stubborn!”

“That’s rich coming from you!” you shot back, leaning forward despite Alfred’s protests. “You’re the king of stubborn!”

Alfred sighed deeply. “If you two are going to quarrel like this, I’ll fetch earplugs. Miss Y/N, hold still. This will sting.”

You hissed as Alfred carefully stitched the wound, but you didn’t break eye contact with Damian. His glare softened just slightly, but his frustration remained.

Once Alfred finished patching you up, he stood back with a look of mild exasperation. “Now, I suggest you both take a moment to cool off. I’ll bring some tea.” He left, leaving you and Damian alone in the medical bay.

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken emotions.

“I didn’t mean it,” Damian said finally, his voice quieter now.

You blinked at him. “What?”

“When I called you stupid.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I was angry. You scared me, Y/N.”

The vulnerability in his tone made your anger waver. “Why didn’t you just say that instead of yelling at me?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t know how else to say it.”

You bit your lip, your frustration giving way to a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry too,” you admitted softly. “I should’ve told someone about the cut. I just… I didn’t want to seem weak.”

Damian looked up sharply. “Weak? Y/N, you’re one of the strongest people I know. But strength isn’t ignoring your limits—it’s knowing when to ask for help.”

You stared at him, surprised by the wisdom in his words.

“And for the record,” he continued, stepping closer, “I don’t think you’re weak. I think you’re incredible. Infuriating, but incredible.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “Infuriating, huh?”

He rolled his eyes but smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

For a moment, the tension melted away, replaced by the quiet warmth that always seemed to linger between you.

“So… I’m benched for the night?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine. But only because Alfred patched me up, and I’m tired. Not because you said so.”

“Of course,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

As you turned to leave, he reached out and caught your wrist. You looked back at him, startled.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his gaze locking with yours. “Promise me you won’t hide something like this again. Please.”

The raw sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. You nodded. “I promise.”

He released your wrist but didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned in just slightly, his expression unreadable. Your breath hitched as you wondered if he was about to close the distance between you.

But then he pulled back, his cheeks faintly pink. “Good. Now rest.”

You smiled, your chest feeling lighter than it had all night. “Goodnight, Damian.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

As you left the medical bay, you couldn’t stop the small grin from spreading across your face. Maybe Damian wasn’t so infuriating after all.

The manor was silent, save for the faint creaks of the old house settling into the night. Damian lay in his room, staring at the ceiling. He’d tried to focus on his routine—reading, sharpening his weapons—but his thoughts were stuck on you. The look in your eyes when you’d snapped at him earlier, the tension in your voice when you’d fought back tears.

Something felt off.

Without a second thought, he slipped out of bed, grabbed a small first-aid kit as an excuse, and made his way to your room. The door was slightly ajar, and the faint glow of a lamp spilled into the hallway.

“Y/N?” he called softly as he pushed the door open.

You were curled up on your bed, knees hugged to your chest, staring blankly at the wall. Your eyes were red and puffy, and your cheeks glistened faintly with tear tracks. At the sound of his voice, you quickly wiped at your face, sitting up.

“Damian?” you croaked, your voice hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” you muttered, trying to mask your vulnerability with sarcasm.

He ignored the jab, his sharp eyes scanning you. “You’ve been crying.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” He crossed his arms, his expression softening despite his usual sharp tone. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine,” you said, avoiding his gaze.

“Y/N,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “Stop deflecting.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “Why do you even care, Damian? Don’t you have better things to do than babysit me?”

He set the first-aid kit on your desk and sat down in the chair next to your bed. “No. Right now, you’re what matters.”

His words made your chest tighten, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. Finally, you whispered, “I already felt stupid enough for getting hurt. Then you called me stupid, and it just… made it worse.”

Damian’s expression softened further, guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I was angry because I was scared. You scared me.”

“Scared you?” you echoed, your voice cracking.

“Yes,” he admitted, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You’re reckless, and you always push yourself too hard. One day, you’re going to get seriously hurt, and I won’t be able to stop it.”

You looked at him, his usually stoic expression now open and vulnerable. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” you murmured, tears welling up again.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But you need to stop carrying everything on your own. You’re not alone, Y/N.”

The tears spilled over, and you quickly wiped at your eyes, but Damian reached out, his hand brushing yours gently. “Don’t,” he said softly. “It’s okay to cry.”

His touch, usually firm and deliberate, was uncharacteristically tender. Something about his quiet reassurance broke the last of your defenses. You let out a shaky sob, burying your face in your hands.

Damian hesitated for only a moment before moving to sit on the bed beside you. He placed a tentative hand on your back, rubbing small, awkward circles. “It’s okay,” he said again, his voice softer now. “I’m here.”

“I just…” you started between sobs. “I hate feeling like I’m not strong enough.”

“You’re the strongest person I know,” Damian said firmly. “But strength doesn’t mean ignoring your limits. It means knowing when to ask for help.”

You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face making his chest ache. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Y/N,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Not to me.”

The raw sincerity in his words made your breath catch. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the room filled only with the quiet sound of your breathing as you calmed down.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Damian asked after a while.

You shook your head. “Not right now. Just… stay?”

His gaze softened even further, and he nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, his hand still resting on your back. Gradually, your breathing steadied, and the tension in your shoulders eased.

“Thank you,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

Damian looked at you, his green eyes meeting yours. “Anytime.”

You hesitated, then leaned your head against his shoulder. He stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed, letting you rest against him.

As the night wore on, neither of you moved. Damian stayed by your side, his presence a quiet but steady reminder that you weren’t alone. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe it.

You stayed leaning against Damian’s shoulder, the silence wrapping around the two of you like a cocoon. But the thoughts swirling in your head wouldn’t quiet. You sighed, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

“I just wish I wasn’t so stupid,” you muttered, your voice tinged with frustration and sadness. “If I were smarter, like you, I wouldn’t make so many mistakes.”

Damian stiffened at your words, then gently pulled back so he could look at you. His brows knitted together, his piercing green eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you freeze.

“Don’t say that,” he said firmly, his tone sharp but not unkind.

You frowned. “But it’s true. I—”

“It’s not,” he interrupted, cutting you off before you could finish. “You’re not stupid, Y/N. Far from it.”

You looked away, fiddling with the hem of your blanket. “Then why do I keep messing up? Why do I keep getting hurt? I’m impulsive, I don’t think things through, and—”

“And you’re brave,” Damian said, his voice quieter now but no less insistent. “You’re courageous, resourceful, and quick on your feet. Those are strengths, Y/N, not weaknesses.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the passion in his voice.

“Do you know how many times I’ve overthought something and hesitated at the wrong moment?” he continued. “How many times my so-called ‘smarts’ have slowed me down? Your instincts, your ability to act in the moment—that’s something I admire about you.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but the doubt lingered. “But I still make mistakes.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” he said, his tone softening further. “Even me.”

You gave him a look, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “You? Make mistakes? You’re Damian Wayne. You’re basically perfect.”

He snorted, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m far from perfect. I make mistakes all the time—more than you probably realize. The difference is, I’ve learned to accept that it’s part of being human.”

You studied his face, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you found was honesty.

“You’re not stupid, Y/N,” he said again, his voice almost a whisper now. “You’re incredible. You push yourself harder than anyone I know, and you never back down, no matter how tough things get. That’s not stupidity. That’s strength.”

Your eyes burned again, but this time it wasn’t from sadness. It was from the overwhelming warmth spreading through your chest at his words.

“Damian…” you started, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll stop comparing yourself to me,” he said, his smirk returning slightly. “Because for all my so-called intelligence, I’d give anything to have your heart and your instinct.”

Your lips quirked into a small, watery smile. “You really mean that?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

For a moment, you just looked at him, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, impulsively—true to form—you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” you murmured into his shoulder.

Damian stiffened at first, clearly caught off guard, but after a moment, he relaxed and returned the embrace. His arms wrapped around you, steady and comforting.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “I’ll always tell you the truth, Y/N.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him. His face was so close, his green eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“Damian,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Y/N,” he replied, his tone matching yours.

The air between you grew charged, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had fallen away. Your heart raced as you realized how close his face was to yours.

But before either of you could move, Damian cleared his throat and looked away, his cheeks faintly pink. “You should rest,” he said quickly, standing up and smoothing his shirt. “We both should.”

You blinked, your own face heating up. “Uh, yeah. Rest. Good idea.”

He lingered by the door for a moment, his hand resting on the frame. “Goodnight, Y/N. And remember what I said.”

“I will,” you promised, your heart still fluttering. “Goodnight, Damian.”

As he left, closing the door softly behind him, you couldn’t stop the small smile from spreading across your face. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel stupid or weak.

You felt seen. And that was everything.

The morning sunlight streamed into the manor, illuminating the long corridors as you shuffled out of your room. Despite Alfred’s careful bandaging and Damian’s insistence that you rest, your injuries still throbbed with every movement. You gritted your teeth, determined to push through. You didn’t want anyone worrying about you—not after last night.

But as you took another step, a sharp pain shot through your side, and you faltered, gripping the wall for support.

“You’re terrible at hiding pain, you know,” came a familiar voice from behind you.

You turned to see Damian, his arms crossed and his sharp green eyes studying you. His hair was slightly messy from sleep, but his stance was as composed as ever.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, attempting to straighten up.

“Sure you are,” Damian said dryly, walking up to you. “You look like you’re about to collapse.”

“I’m not—” Your protest was cut off by another wince as you shifted your weight.

Damian sighed and stepped closer. “Stop being stubborn, Y/N.” Without waiting for your permission, he slipped an arm around your waist, his other hand gripping your forearm to steady you.

“Damian!” you hissed, your face heating up at the sudden closeness. “I can walk on my own.”

“And fall flat on your face?” he retorted, his grip firm but gentle. “I don’t think so.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the look he gave you—the same mix of concern and determination you’d seen last night—silenced you.

“Fine,” you muttered begrudgingly, leaning into his support.

“Good,” he said simply, adjusting his hold to make sure you were stable. “Let’s go.”

As the two of you made your way to the dining room, you couldn’t help but notice how careful he was. His hand on your waist was steady, never wavering, and he matched his pace to yours without complaint.

When you finally entered the dining room, Bruce, Dick, and Tim were already seated at the table, discussing something over breakfast. The moment they noticed you and Damian, the conversation stopped.

“Well, good morning,” Dick said, a sly grin spreading across his face as he took in the sight of Damian practically holding you up. “Don’t you two look cozy.”

“Don’t start,” Damian warned, his voice cold as ever, but the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him.

“Aw, come on, Damian,” Dick teased, leaning back in his chair. “You’re practically sweeping her off her feet. Literally.”

You groaned, your face burning. “It’s not like that. I just—”

“She’s injured,” Damian cut in sharply, glaring at Dick. “I’m helping her. That’s all.”

“Sure, sure,” Dick said, winking at you. “Helping her. Got it.”

Tim, sitting beside Dick, smirked but kept his comments to himself, clearly enjoying the show. Even Bruce raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t say anything.

“Enough,” Damian snapped, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he guided you to a chair. “Sit,” he instructed, his tone softening as he spoke to you.

You obeyed, grateful to finally be off your feet. Damian grabbed a plate and began fixing you some food, ignoring the amused looks from the rest of the family.

“Look at him, being so attentive,” Dick said, nudging Tim. “It’s almost cute.”

Damian shot him a glare that could’ve frozen Gotham’s harbor. “I said, enough.”

“You’re really bad at denying things, Damian,” Tim said, finally chiming in.

Bruce cleared his throat, his deep voice cutting through the banter. “That’s enough, boys.”

Dick held up his hands in mock surrender, though his grin didn’t fade. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop. For now.”

Damian returned to your side with a plate of food, setting it in front of you before sitting down beside you. His usual scowl was firmly in place, but you could see the faintest hint of a blush lingering on his cheeks.

“Thank you,” you said softly, glancing at him.

He met your eyes briefly, his expression softening. “You’re welcome.”

The teasing continued throughout breakfast, but Damian stayed close to you, brushing off every jab with a cold remark or a well-timed glare. And though you would never admit it out loud, having him by your side made the morning a little easier to bear.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of quiet moments and lingering pain. Despite your insistence that you could manage on your own, Damian shadowed you like a hawk. Every time you tried to move too quickly or push yourself, he was there—steadying you, scolding you, and ensuring you didn’t do something reckless.

You were in the manor’s library now, insisting on fetching a book you’d been wanting to read. Damian walked beside you, his arm hovering near your waist in case you stumbled.

“I told you I can do this,” you said for what felt like the hundredth time, though your voice lacked any real heat.

“And I told you I don’t care,” he replied, his tone cool but firm. “You’re not risking making your injuries worse just to prove a point.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue further. You were secretly grateful for his help, though you’d never admit it.

As you reached for a book on a lower shelf, a sudden sharp pain flared in your side. You gasped, your knees buckling slightly as you lost your balance.

Before you could hit the ground, Damian’s arm shot out, wrapping securely around your waist. His other hand gripped your forearm, steadying you with ease.

“Careful,” he said, his voice soft but laced with concern. “I told you not to push yourself.”

You looked up at him, your face inches from his. His green eyes bore into yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite place—something warmer than his usual stern demeanor.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing.

He didn’t let go right away, his hold firm but gentle, as if he was making sure you wouldn’t fall again. “You need to stop being so stubborn,” he said quietly, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

You chuckled softly, a warm smile spreading across your face. “And you need to stop being so overprotective.”

“Not happening,” he replied without hesitation.

You shook your head, still smiling. Without thinking, you leaned up and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, just above the line of his jaw.

Damian froze, his eyes widening slightly as a faint blush crept up his neck. His grip on your waist didn’t falter, but you could feel the tension in his body.

“Thanks for catching me,” you said, your voice light but sincere.

He blinked, his mouth opening slightly as if to respond, but no words came out. Finally, he cleared his throat, his usual composure snapping back into place.

“Don’t do that again,” he said, though the pink on his cheeks betrayed his flustered state.

“Do what?” you teased, grinning up at him.

“Kiss me,” he said, his voice stiff, though he still didn’t let go of your waist.

You laughed softly, leaning into his support as you steadied yourself. “No promises, Damian.”

His lips twitched, as if he was fighting a smile, but he only shook his head and muttered under his breath, “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” you quipped, giving him a playful look.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, his arm remaining firmly around your waist as he helped you back to the couch. As you settled in with your book, you couldn’t help but notice the faint smile tugging at his lips.

Maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as impossible as he claimed.

Damian stood nearby as you settled on the couch, your book open in your lap but your eyes wandering to him more often than the page. His quiet attentiveness had been relentless all day, and while you’d normally find it suffocating, something about Damian’s care made it feel… different.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, his arms crossed but his voice soft.

You pretended to think, tapping your chin. “Maybe some water?”

He sighed, though you could see the corner of his mouth twitch. “Fine. Don’t move.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied sweetly, watching him leave the room.

When he returned with a glass of water, you set your book aside and reached for it, but Damian handed it to you with a pointed look. “You better drink this. If you don’t stay hydrated, Alfred will make me brew tea for you, and I’d rather not.”

You chuckled as you took a sip, watching him sit down beside you. His usual cool demeanor was still there, but something softer lingered beneath the surface.

“You know,” you started, setting the glass on the table, “I never expected you to be such a good nurse.”

He gave you a flat look. “Don’t push it.”

You grinned and leaned back against the couch, turning to face him. “Still, you’ve been really sweet today, Damian. Even for you.”

He scoffed, though his ears turned faintly pink. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Why not?” you teased, leaning closer. “You’re good at this whole caring thing.”

He avoided your gaze, his arms crossing defensively. “It’s not… terrible,” he admitted quietly. Then, after a brief pause, he added, “And I didn’t mind when you… kissed me.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his admission. “What?”

He turned his head slightly to look at you, his cheeks tinged pink. “The kiss. Earlier. It wasn’t… unpleasant.”

A slow, mischievous smile spread across your face. “Did you just say you liked it?”

Damian rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “Don’t make me regret telling you.”

“Oh, you are never living this down,” you said, grinning. Then, tilting your head playfully, you asked, “So… can I do it again?”

He stiffened slightly, his green eyes narrowing as he studied your expression. But instead of brushing you off, he surprised you.

“Yes,” he said simply, his voice steady.

Your smile faltered for a moment, his answer catching you off guard. “Wait, really?”

“Yes,” he repeated, his gaze unwavering.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you leaned closer, the playful banter giving way to something quieter, more intimate. Slowly, you pressed another soft kiss to his cheek, lingering just a second longer this time.

When you pulled back, you noticed the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Happy now?” he asked, his tone softer than usual.

“Very,” you replied, your voice light but sincere.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the comfortable silence stretching between you. Damian didn’t move away, and you didn’t press him further. But as you settled back into your spot, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you, warmer and softer than they’d been before.

Maybe Damian Wayne wasn’t as untouchable as he seemed. And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind being touched by you.

The warmth of the moment lingered as you shifted closer to Damian on the couch, your shoulder brushing against his. His usual tense posture seemed to relax as you leaned into him, resting your head lightly against his shoulder.

“You know,” you murmured, glancing at the book you’d set aside earlier, “I don’t think I’m up for reading right now. But… you could read it to me?”

Damian raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into the smallest of smirks. “You want me to read to you?”

“You’re always correcting me about things anyway,” you teased, nudging him gently. “Might as well use that big brain of yours for something nice.”

He rolled his eyes but reached for the book. “Fine,” he said, his tone feigning reluctance, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed his true feelings. “But don’t interrupt me with your nonsense.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, smiling as you settled against him more comfortably.

Damian opened the book, his steady voice filling the room as he began to read. His tone was calm and deliberate, with just enough inflection to keep the story engaging. You closed your eyes, listening to the rhythm of his words and feeling the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

It was a side of Damian you rarely got to see—soft, patient, and completely unguarded.

As he read, you noticed the faintest pause when he realized you were still leaning against him, but he didn’t move away or tell you to stop. Instead, he adjusted his position slightly, making it easier for you to stay close.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Bruce stood at the entrance to the room, quietly observing the scene. He’d come to check on Damian and found him sitting with you instead, his usually aloof son reading with a rare look of contentment on his face.

Bruce’s lips curved into a small, proud smile as he watched the two of you. It wasn’t often that Damian let anyone in, but it was clear you’d managed to break through his walls.

Damian must have sensed someone’s presence because his eyes flicked up to meet Bruce’s for a brief moment. Bruce gave him a subtle nod, his approval evident, before stepping away silently, leaving the two of you in peace.

“What was that?” you asked, noticing Damian’s brief pause.

“Nothing,” he replied quickly, returning his focus to the book.

You didn’t press him, instead letting your eyes flutter shut as his voice continued to wash over you. In that quiet moment, everything felt right.

And though Damian would never admit it out loud, having you so close, trusting him so completely, made him feel something he hadn’t in a long time: happiness.

As Damian finished reading the passage, he noticed your breathing had slowed, your head resting comfortably against his shoulder. He paused, glancing down at you, and saw that you had drifted into a light sleep. His fingers hesitated on the pages, but he didn’t move, unsure if he should wake you or let you rest.

Damian had never been one to offer comfort to others, let alone seek it himself. But this felt different. You felt different. His heart thudded a little harder in his chest, and despite his usual control, he couldn’t help but feel a certain tenderness in the way you leaned into him, trusting him without question.

He continued to read, his voice softer now, as if to not disturb the peaceful silence between you. The warmth of the room and your gentle presence had a way of soothing him too. Damian found himself reading, not just for you, but for the sense of peace it brought him—peace he hadn’t realized he needed until now.

Some time passed before the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway. Damian immediately stiffened, but he didn’t pull away from you. He was used to Bruce’s occasional check-ins, but this time, Bruce walked in quietly, almost as if he’d been deliberately avoiding detection.

Bruce leaned against the doorframe, taking in the scene before him. The sight of his son, the one who never let anyone in, reading to you—of all people—was something Bruce had never expected. And yet, he couldn’t help but smile at the picture you two made.

He kept his voice low, a rare softness in his tone. “I’m glad you two are getting along.”

Damian looked up briefly, his eyes flicking to his father before he quickly returned to the book, his voice more clipped than before. “It’s nothing. She needed help.”

Bruce smiled, not fooled by Damian’s attempt to downplay the situation. “Of course.” He took a step closer, his smile widening as he looked at you, still asleep on Damian’s shoulder. “I’m happy to see you like this, Damian. It’s good to know you have someone you trust.”

Damian stiffened but didn’t protest. Instead, he continued reading, though now his eyes were focused more on you than the words on the page.

“Just… don’t wake her up,” Damian muttered, almost as if it were an order.

Bruce chuckled quietly, his eyes softening as he studied the two of you. “I’ll leave you two alone. Take your time.”

Damian didn’t respond, but his shoulders seemed to relax as his father left the room. He glanced down at you, noticing the small, contented smile on your face, the way your hand had unconsciously reached up to rest against his side.

He paused, feeling his own heart skip a beat at the sight. Damian had always kept a certain distance from others—fearing vulnerability, fearing weakness—but right now, as you rested against him, that distance felt irrelevant.

He didn’t want to wake you. Instead, he closed the book gently and set it aside. The soft hum of the manor filled the silence, and for the first time in a long while, Damian let himself just… be.

A few moments passed, and he found himself watching you, studying the way you breathed, the way you trusted him so completely. Despite all the ways he’d pushed people away in his life, you had a way of breaking through those walls without even trying.

Damian shifted, still careful not to wake you, and allowed his arm to drape loosely around your shoulders. He wasn’t sure what it was about you—whether it was your unwavering strength, your impulsiveness, or the way you saw him, but something about your presence made him feel more grounded, more human.

As the minutes turned into hours, Damian remained by your side, keeping watch over you as you slept. He could feel the quiet rhythm of your breathing against him, and he found it oddly comforting.

It wasn’t something Damian usually allowed himself to experience—this kind of closeness, this sense of intimacy—but with you, it felt right. And for once, Damian wasn’t afraid of it.

Later that Evening

You woke to find the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the windows. For a brief moment, you didn’t remember where you were, until the familiar weight of Damian’s arm around you reminded you. You lifted your head from his shoulder, feeling slightly embarrassed to realize you had fallen asleep so easily, but you didn’t move away.

Damian had stayed by your side the entire time, his own head resting back against the couch. He hadn’t shifted an inch, his focus solely on you.

You smiled softly, watching him sleep for a few moments, taking in how different he looked—so much younger, less guarded.

Damian stirred slightly, his eyes flickering open. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, your voice still laced with sleep. “How long did I sleep?”

“About two hours,” he muttered, his eyes still half-closed as he shifted to a more comfortable position. “You looked… peaceful.”

“Thanks for sticking around,” you said, your tone sincere. You hadn’t expected him to stay with you, much less comfort you.

Damian’s lips quirked into a small smile. “It wasn’t entirely for you,” he said with his usual dry humor. “I… didn’t mind the company.”

You chuckled, the warmth between you palpable. “I’m glad you didn’t mind.”

He shifted slightly, the faintest hint of his usual stoic self returning, but the warmth in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Don’t think you’ve won me over entirely,” Damian said, though his words were soft, almost playful.

You grinned, nudging him gently with your shoulder. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Damian’s gaze flicked to you, his smirk ever so slightly more genuine than usual. “You’re lucky I don’t have the energy to argue with you right now.”

You leaned back against him, feeling the tension between you both melt into something more comfortable. In that quiet, shared moment, you realized that you’d grown closer to Damian in ways you hadn’t expected, and maybe—just maybe—he’d become someone you could truly count on.

And that realization left you with a quiet, hopeful feeling, one that you weren’t sure would ever fade.

The next few days passed quietly, the atmosphere in the manor more relaxed than it had been in a long time. You were still recovering, but Damian continued to be by your side, guiding you through even the simplest tasks. You had no doubt that he’d keep that same watchful eye on you until you were fully healed—though, if you were honest, you didn’t mind it.

On the third morning after the mission, you found yourself in the kitchen, sipping on some tea. Your injuries still ached, but you were beginning to feel like yourself again. You had made it a point to move around more today, but you weren’t foolish enough to push yourself too hard. Damian had warned you not to, though his way of doing so was less about concern and more about his usual stoic insistence.

You glanced up from your tea to find him standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, his expression unreadable.

“Shouldn’t you still be resting?” he asked, his voice devoid of accusation but full of a quiet, underlying concern.

“I’m fine,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Besides, I can’t spend all day on the couch. Alfred’s made it clear that I need to start moving again.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Alfred’s advice aside, I don’t think that means you should overexert yourself.”

You shrugged, not wanting to argue. “I’m just tired of sitting around.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on you. There was something about the way he looked at you—almost like he was studying you, reading you in a way no one else could. It was unsettling in the best way possible.

“Come on,” you said, standing up slowly, careful not to jar your injuries. “Help me get through the day. You’ve been so overbearing lately, I’m starting to think I’m not allowed to move without you there to supervise.”

Damian’s lips quirked, and for a second, you saw a rare flash of something warmer in his eyes—something that wasn’t masked by his usual arrogance or stoicism.

“I’m not ‘supervising,’” he said with a mock-offended tone. “I’m making sure you don’t end up in worse shape than before.”

You grinned, the teasing between the two of you as comfortable as always. You slowly walked toward him, making sure to keep your movements slow and deliberate.

Damian’s eyes followed you, and without thinking, he stepped closer, his hand catching your arm just as you swayed slightly, a subtle wince on your face.

“You’re pushing yourself too much again,” he said quietly, his voice firm but gentle as he steadied you.

You looked up at him, a little embarrassed to have been caught. “I’m fine,” you insisted, though the slight hitch in your voice made it sound less convincing.

He gave you a look, the same look that made it clear he wasn’t buying any of your bravado. “You’re not fine. You’ve been walking around like this for hours, and you’re still not telling anyone how much pain you’re in.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not a big deal.”

Damian didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched you. He placed his hand lightly on your shoulder, the touch almost too gentle, as though he was afraid that touching you too roughly would break something.

“You’re not stupid,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “I just… don’t want to see you get hurt more than you already have. You mean something to me, Y/N.”

You blinked up at him, his words hitting you harder than you expected. It was rare for Damian to show such vulnerability, to express his emotions so openly. And yet, here he was, standing in front of you, his touch tender, his eyes earnest.

“I… didn’t know you cared so much,” you whispered.

Damian’s gaze softened, but he quickly masked it with a slight roll of his eyes. “I don’t make it a habit of expressing emotions, but that doesn’t mean I’m indifferent to you.” He paused, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. “You don’t have to be so reckless all the time. Let me help you. You don’t always have to do everything on your own.”

The sincerity in his words made something stir in your chest. You had always prided yourself on being independent—on being strong—but hearing Damian’s quiet plea, seeing the unspoken care in his eyes, made you realize how much you’d been pushing yourself. Maybe, for once, it was okay to lean on someone else.

Without thinking, you placed your hand on his, a silent thank-you that carried more weight than words ever could.

“I’ll try,” you said softly, meeting his gaze.

Damian nodded, his grip tightening ever so slightly, as if reaffirming his unspoken promise. “Good,” he said, his voice steady again, though there was a softness to it that made your heart beat a little faster.

The two of you stood in silence for a few moments, the weight of the unspoken conversation hanging between you. It was clear that things had shifted, that a deeper understanding had developed between you.

Later that Day

That afternoon, Bruce and Alfred had gone out for some errands, leaving you and Damian to yourselves. It was one of those rare moments where the two of you had the entire manor to yourselves, and it felt like a chance to just… be together without the usual distractions of Gotham’s chaos.

Damian was sitting on the couch, his eyes scanning through a set of documents, his usual intense focus in place. But every once in a while, his eyes flicked over to you as you sat across from him, content in your own thoughts.

The quiet was comforting, a stark contrast to the storm that usually surrounded both of you when you were out on patrol.

You noticed the way Damian looked at you every so often, his gaze flicking from his papers to you, his expression unreadable but his eyes revealing more than he probably wanted. It was as if, for once, he didn’t feel the need to hide.

Finally, after a long stretch of silence, you stood up and walked over to where Damian sat. You leaned down and placed a kiss on his cheek once again, this time lingering just a little longer.

He froze, his head snapping up to meet your gaze, his cheeks tinged pink. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the air thick with the weight of the simple act.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” you murmured, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

Damian opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He blinked, seemingly caught off guard. “For… what?”

“For being here,” you said quietly, your voice steady but full of sincerity. “For caring about me.”

Damian’s expression softened, but only for a brief second before his usual guarded mask returned. “I told you, it’s not about that.” His voice was lower now, more vulnerable than usual. “It’s just… it’s you, Y/N.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at the unspoken meaning behind his words. “Well, I appreciate it. More than you’ll ever know.”

Damian’s gaze lingered on yours for a moment longer, his hand reaching out to rest on yours, just a brief touch—yet it spoke volumes. He didn’t need to say more. You already understood.

The quiet intimacy between you two only deepened over the next few days. The distance that had once defined your relationship began to shrink, replaced by a mutual understanding that spoke louder than words. Neither of you had to put up a front anymore. You were both starting to let down your walls, even if just a little.

And in those moments—quiet, simple, and shared between the two of you—you began to realize that maybe you’d always been meant to be here. Together.

A Few Days Later

Gotham had been unusually quiet. The usual chaos of the city seemed to have taken a brief respite, allowing you and Damian a few rare moments of peace. The two of you had spent the past few days just being around each other—something that had slowly become a comfort neither of you expected. There was a sense of understanding between you, one that transcended words, and that’s what made it so special.

This morning, the silence of the manor was only interrupted by the sound of the coffee machine humming in the background as you and Damian sat in the living room. The sun filtered in through the large windows, casting a warm glow across the room. You were sipping your coffee, leaning back against the couch, while Damian was… well, being Damian.

He was sitting at the far end of the couch, his eyes scanning through a pile of documents as if the weight of Gotham’s problems rested entirely on his shoulders. But despite his usual focus, you could tell his attention wasn’t fully on the papers in front of him. He had a habit of glancing at you, his gaze lingering just a bit longer than necessary.

You caught him doing it again—his eyes flicking up to meet yours for a brief moment before he returned his focus to his work, as though trying to convince himself he wasn’t watching you.

“Damian,” you called softly, setting your coffee down and turning to face him. “You know, if you keep staring at me like that, I might start thinking you actually like me or something.”

His lips quirked into a small, almost imperceptible smile, though his usual sharp edge remained. “I don’t have time for distractions,” he said, though the way he said it was more teasing than dismissive.

You raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at your lips. “Distractions? You’re not even looking at your papers half the time. Admit it, you’re interested in me.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was something softer in his gaze now—an unspoken acknowledgment of the truth. “I’m simply concerned for your well-being. You’re reckless, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Your smile softened at the honesty in his words. There it was again—the careful way he shielded his true feelings. His words were as guarded as ever, but the way he said them, the subtle shift in his tone, told you everything you needed to know.

“I’m not that reckless,” you teased, though there was a flicker of warmth in your eyes as you leaned closer to him. “You just don’t like seeing me get hurt. Which, by the way, I’m fine now.”

“You’re lucky I’m not your doctor,” he replied, his tone half-serious, half-amused. “Otherwise, I’d tell you to stay off your feet for at least another week.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I’ve never been good at listening to orders, especially when they come from you.”

His eyes softened at your words, and he leaned back slightly, letting his focus drift away from the papers. “You should listen to me more often. You wouldn’t be in this position if you did.”

“I know,” you said quietly, feeling the weight of his concern settle between the two of you. You hadn’t expected him to care this much, but you were slowly starting to realize that he did.

Damian opened his mouth to say something more, but before he could, a voice interrupted from the hallway.

“Are you two just going to sit there all day?” Dick’s teasing voice echoed from the doorframe, breaking the comfortable bubble you and Damian had created.

Damian’s expression immediately hardened, his posture straightening as he turned his gaze toward his older brother. “What do you want, Grayson?” he asked, his usual tone of annoyance returning.

Dick smirked as he leaned against the doorframe. “Nothing. Just thought I’d pop in and see if you two are still glued to the couch. I mean, it’s been hours.”

You shot Dick a playful glare but couldn’t help but laugh a little. “We’re allowed to take it easy once in a while, right?”

Dick’s smirk widened. “Oh, of course. Just didn’t know you were both this cozy.” He raised an eyebrow, looking from you to Damian and back again, his grin widening at the sight of the two of you so relaxed together.

Damian immediately bristled, his hand instinctively moving to his side, as if preparing to defend the space between him and you. “This is none of your business, Grayson.”

But you could see the faint blush creeping up Damian’s neck, and it made you smile. You leaned back against the couch, smirking at Dick. “You know, maybe I don’t mind hanging out here for a while. You should try it sometime.”

Dick chuckled, clearly enjoying the subtle discomfort he was causing. “Oh, I’ll leave you two alone. But I just had to see if Damian was actually relaxing for once.” He paused for a moment, and his expression softened. “It’s nice, though. You two… you’re good together.”

Damian rolled his eyes at his brother’s words, but you could see a hint of appreciation behind his usual guarded demeanor. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, but his tone lacked its usual edge.

Dick smiled, his eyes softening as he gave you both one last look. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.” He winked at you, giving Damian one last teasing glance before walking out of the room.

You couldn’t help but smile as Damian’s face flushed slightly, his jaw tightening in frustration.

“I hate it when they do that,” Damian grumbled, but there was no real heat in his words.

You chuckled, nudging him playfully. “Come on, you know he’s just teasing.”

“I know,” Damian muttered, still trying to regain his composure. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

You smiled, letting the quiet warmth of the moment settle between you two. “Well, I don’t mind it. Maybe it’s nice to know someone else sees it too.”

Damian shot you a sideways glance. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

You grinned, leaning back against the couch again. “It’s one of my best qualities.”

And for the first time, you saw Damian’s lips twitch in something that almost looked like a smile. The barrier between you two was slowly crumbling, one small moment at a time.

Later That Evening

That evening, after another quiet day spent mostly inside, you and Damian were once again on the couch together. Alfred had made dinner, and the two of you had enjoyed a peaceful meal, a rarity in the chaos of Gotham. Now, with the evening wrapping up, the two of you sat together in silence once again, each lost in your own thoughts.

This time, it was Damian who broke the silence. His voice was quiet but certain. “You’ve made a habit of getting under my skin, you know that?”

You smirked, glancing at him. “I thought that was your job—getting under everyone else’s skin.”

“Touché,” he muttered, looking away slightly. But then he added, “Just don’t make a habit of it. I’m not always the best at handling… affection.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the vulnerability in his voice. “I didn’t think you had a problem with it.”

Damian looked at you then, his gaze intense and yet… softer than usual. “I don’t,” he admitted. “I just—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening for a moment before he continued, his voice quieter now. “It’s just… you make it hard for me to stay closed off.”

You let his words hang in the air, your heart thudding a little faster. This was the closest he had ever come to saying something like that to you, and it was both terrifying and comforting.

“I’ll try not to make it too hard for you,” you teased, but your smile was soft, gentle—just like the way you felt in this moment.

Damian gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile in return, his hand moving to rest beside yours on the couch. The touch wasn’t anything overt, but it was enough.

And for once, neither of you felt the need to hide what had quietly, subtly, been building between the two of you.

A Few Days Later

The atmosphere in the manor was tense, something between you and Damian had shifted again, but this time, not in a good way. You were growing frustrated—frustrated with being treated like you couldn’t take care of yourself, frustrated with the constant overprotectiveness, and frustrated with the way Damian kept trying to control everything.

You had made it clear that you didn’t need constant supervision, but Damian wasn’t getting the message. It wasn’t like he was trying to make you feel weak, but it certainly felt like that.

It all started when you’d decided to go out for a run. It had been a few days since you’d gotten out of the house, and you were feeling better—stronger. But as you laced up your shoes, Damian had appeared in the doorway.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he had said firmly.

You had stopped, glaring at him. “What do you mean, I’m not going anywhere?”

“You’re still recovering. You need to rest,” he insisted, his arms crossed.

“I’m fine, Damian,” you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. “I’m not an invalid. I’m not some fragile thing you need to protect!”

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not fine. If you were, you wouldn’t be acting like this. You should be listening to me and resting, not going off on some ridiculous run.”

Your heart started to race, anger building in your chest. “I’m not listening to you anymore. I know my own body. You can’t control me, Damian. I’m not one of your soldiers, and I’m not some object you need to protect all the time!”

The words stung, and you immediately regretted them, but your emotions were running too high to take them back. Damian’s face twisted with something close to hurt, but it was quickly replaced with a simmering frustration.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he said sharply. “I’m not trying to control you, Y/N. I’m trying to help you. But it seems like you’d rather get yourself killed than admit you need help!”

You stood there for a moment, staring at him, but the words that came out of your mouth were sharp and bitter. “Maybe I don’t need your help. Maybe I don’t need anyone’s help. Especially not from someone who thinks they know everything!”

Damian’s jaw clenched at your words. He had never been one to back down from a challenge, and right now, he was too angry to let it go.

“You think you’re so strong, don’t you?” His voice was laced with frustration. “You think you’re invincible. But you’re not. You’re human. And I can’t just stand by and watch you destroy yourself!”

The words hit harder than you wanted to admit. He had a point. You did think you were invincible at times. You did push yourself past your limits. But that didn’t mean you needed him reminding you of it every time.

“I never asked you to stand by,” you bit back. “I can take care of myself.”

Damian’s face hardened, his eyes flashing with anger. “You keep saying that, but you’re still here, injured and ignoring everyone who’s trying to help you.” His voice dropped to a more intense tone. “You’re stupid for not listening, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched at the harshness of his words. “Stupid? You think I’m stupid?”

Damian’s posture was tense, his fists clenched at his sides. “Yes, Y/N. I think you’re stupid for thinking you can handle everything on your own. You’re stubborn and reckless.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could say anything, the distance between the two of you closed in an instant. Damian stepped forward, his hand grabbing your chin, lifting your face up to meet his eyes.

For a moment, you both stood there, chest heaving, breaths shallow with the intensity of the argument. But then, without warning, Damian’s lips were on yours—hard, urgent, almost desperate. It was a kiss that caught you completely off guard, one that silenced every word in your head, every angry retort.

The kiss was intense, and for a second, you forgot why you were even arguing. His lips were warm, firm against yours, and the frustration that had built up between the two of you melted into something else entirely.

It was only when Damian pulled back, breathing heavily, that you finally managed to process what had just happened. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

“Shut up,” he said, his voice hoarse, though there was a trace of something softer in it. “Just… shut up and listen for once.”

You were left standing there, heart racing, breath still heavy from the kiss. You blinked up at him, utterly speechless for a moment.

“You—” You tried to speak, but no words came. What could you possibly say to that?

Damian let out a frustrated breath, rubbing his forehead, as if trying to collect his thoughts. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, but there was no anger left in his voice, just exhaustion. “You push me to the limit, Y/N.”

You were still reeling from the kiss, trying to gather your thoughts. But despite the overwhelming emotions swirling inside you, you found a small part of you that wanted to admit the truth—admit how much you’d wanted that kiss.

“You can be a real pain in the ass, you know that?” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Damian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “And you’re just as infuriating.” He took a step back, finally releasing his grip on you.

You both stood there for a moment, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. It was clear that neither of you knew exactly what to do next. But for the first time, you didn’t feel as angry anymore. You felt… understood. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

“You’re still stupid,” Damian muttered under his breath, though there was no heat in his words now. Just a resigned, exhausted tone.

You smiled softly, the weight of the argument lifting slightly. “Yeah. But I think I’m starting to see where you’re coming from.”

Damian’s expression softened, just a little. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.

Instead, he walked toward the couch, muttering something about how you’d probably try to run off again soon. You followed him, a small, content smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

It wasn’t over yet—not by a long shot. But as you sat next to him on the couch, a quiet understanding hung in the air between you two.

!

[jasonsbruce]

[raybeam-littlebean]

I need yall to stop drawing Timothy Drake so hot.

I can't only breathe heavily for so long before I start to get dizzy.

[weezerlvr228]

hi fam !!

[fictional-men-enthusiast]

Old Flesh + The Parliament is conservatism.

I said what I said and I’m not taking it back.

[pyr0man1c]

“I could fix him” okay? I could fuck him?? It won’t take away the rage and resentment but idk man maybe he had a good time??

[villruu]

me: this is a hurt/comfort fic, alex won't have too much of a bad time

also me: [puts him in The Situation] [puts him in The Situation] [puts him in The Situation] [puts him in The Situation] [puts him in The Situation] [puts him in The Situation]

[sunlightfeeling]

I genuinely feel like I dont have a right at all to complain or talk negative about Japanese fans but like……..the evident cliqueish-ness of honestly what looks like a very unfortunate larger chunk of them ……😮‍💨

like i gotta be honest the concert was a lot more isolating than it actually already was in itself because of the vibes at least a couple of clusters of fans gave me

[acourtofquestions]

Dont be angry, Finnula said. Be smart.

[dandyshucks]

seeing ppl say that theyre going to kiss and hug all his trauma away makes me insane bc thats so not how it works 😭😭😭 not to be "u don't understand him like i do" but CMON... that sort of trauma doesnt work like that.... its not a "romance fixes everything" situation.... and i know half the time ppl are just being somewhat silly and not actually serious but i just get so irritated w the trope of "just get into a relationship and it'll fix all ur trauma :]" bc its EVERYWHEREEE